#and maybe even admit that yeah. on some level... yeah she wants what he's offering

[cannibalisticskittles]

also if/when astarion learns abt who amity previously/most recently had feelings for, i think that he'd be... less than pleased lmao

if it's before he's got feelings for her, he just thinks she's a silly little fool for being so lovelorn and moony over some -- to him -- average, forgettable halfling. and for what? earnestness? ha.

if it's after he's got feelings for her, well. now he's going to agonize a bit over what the fuck the common thread is. like yes, he's worried that perhaps his looks are the biggest/possibly only draw to him. and yes, the previous object of her affection... to him seems to suggest that that's not what she goes for. but what the fuck does she go for then. what is the common denominator.

joke's on you astarion, she's used to traveling with ridiculously hot people. she recognizes it, and recognizes that he's very pretty, but her restraint is fucking god-like at this point. got to bring more to the table to really catch her eye.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Declassified [11] - Warning Shot

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves, you are so amazing🩷 I hope you like this chapter as well! 🥰 And please let me know what you think! 🩷

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky x Female!Reader

Summary: Some dances look more than just friendly.

Warnings: Explicit language, yearning, throwing up, mentions of sexual acts.

Word Count: 5.5k

Series Masterlist

If it were any other time, this gala would be exciting.

It was the perfect opportunity to meet more politicians, get some inside information, and overall a good place to make an impression. However, your love life was a mess, you dreamt about Bucky every night while keeping your distance from him all day, so you had no idea how to even begin forming a game plan for the gala, or care about it.

Also, Bucky looked like he had one thousand questions about why you started avoiding him all of a sudden out of nowhere yet again but you had to admit, he was being very understanding and did not push you.

Then again, maybe his girlfriend played a part in it.

“Can I just skip this one?”

You and Kelsey exchanged glances and she rolled her eyes while you heaved a sigh, then checked your lipstick on the mirror.

“Caleb, get in here.”

“No seriously, DC has a bunch of charity galas I can join some other time—”

“Get in here!” You both called out at the same time and he huffed, then stepped into the living room, still fiddling with his bowtie. One simple observer would have thought he was being forced to go to war instead of a gala from the miserable look on his face, and you stifled your laugh while Kelsey walked to him to bat his hand away so that she could fix his bowtie.

“I look like a waiter.”

“You look like a handsome guy in a suit.”

“Handsome waiter in a suit.”

“Caleb,” Kelsey said patiently. “I will be Bucky’s shadow in that ballroom and running around the place on stilettos. I think you and your bowtie will be fine.”

“I can give you my shoes at the end of the night if you want,” Caleb said and Kelsey smiled at him.

“Not gonna turn down that offer, thank you.”

“Birdie?” Caleb turned to you and you winked at him.

“You look like a handsome PR manager in a suit.”

Caleb let out a breath and ran his hands through his hair.

“Anyone else feel like this is prom night?”

“I lost my virginity on prom night,” Kelsey mused, checking her phone and you raised your brows.

“Really?”

“Yeah, at the back of the limo my date rented.”

You grinned. “Classy. I’ve never had sex in a car.”

“You’re telling me Five Minutes Comma Max wasn’t adventurous?” Caleb teased you. “Shocker.”

“I should make a list or something.”

“A sex list?”

“Yeah for like places and stuff.”

“Uber is here,” Kelsey said and you grabbed your purse off the coffee table while Caleb rolled his shoulders back. “Ready?”

“Yep,” you said. “Let’s go to prom.”

                                               *

This was not prom.

This was prom West Wing edition.

There were so many important people everywhere that you didn’t even know where to start. You could see your father talking to a senator at the corner of the ballroom, and the sight was enough to make your stomach do a nervous flip, but you cracked your knuckles, searching the room for—

Oh there he was.   

It wasn’t like you expected him not to look good in a suit but this was another level. For a couple of seconds, you let yourself stare at him; your heartbeat getting faster while he gave a curt smile to something Hazel said, then made a face and shook his head, making her laugh.

Jesus, they really did make a hot couple.

Jealous burned at the pit of your stomach but you frowned to yourself, trying to focus. Kelsey made her way to him while Caleb walked to one of the journalists he knew, and you took a deep breath, then approached him.

Professional.

You were going to be just professional and get through tonight, and then go home where you could whine all you wanted.

“Good evening Mr. Barnes. Miss Brooks.” You offered a smile to her which she acknowledged with a nod, but you made sure not to look at Bucky, instead lowering your glances to your phone in your hand. “Mr. Barnes, I think it could be a good idea to talk Congressman Murray tonight about the veteran bill proposal once you get the chance. He has military background, he supports getting more financial support to veteran families especially after the Blip, and he has already contacted us for next week, so it could be the first step to breaking the ice. I sent you the main points of the latest bill he proposed a couple of months ago, so if you’d like to take a look, it could help.”

Silence.

You pulled your brows together and looked up from your phone to find him staring at you in awe, making your heart skip a beat. You could feel your cheeks burning but you shot him a quizzical look, which made him clear his throat, trying to pull himself together.

“Sorry, I zoned out,” he managed to say. “Can you repeat that?”

Oh this was not going to help this situation with Hazel.

She narrowed her eyes at him, looking between you while Kelsey bit back a smile, and you took a deep breath.

“Congressman Murray could help with the veteran bill, I sent you the details.”

“Ah,” he said. “Right, yeah. Which one is he?”

“That one.” Kelsey pointed at the man subtly and Bucky nodded like he was trying to focus.

“Okay.”

“I’d better go and see who else is here,” you said and walked away from them in a rush just so that you wouldn’t be alone with Hazel. You looked around and made your way to one of the waiters to grab a champagne flute from the tray he carried, then thanked him and took a huge sip of the champagne, closing your eyes for a moment.

Tonight was going to be a long night.

“Wow.”

You looked over your shoulder, then smiled at Lucas and turned to see him better.

“Hi.”

He let out a breath, eyeing you up and down. “You look amazing, Hurricane.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” you said, your smiling growing bigger. “Hey, how come you know my nickname and I don’t know yours?”

“Because I came to the Capitol before you.”

“Oh that’s how it works?”

“Mm hm,” he said solemnly. “Not to look like I’m pulling rank but…”

“But you are pulling rank?”

“But I am pulling rank,” he repeated with a nod of his head. “Sorry about that, but technically you’re a freshman and I’m a senior.”

“You’re a sophomore at best,” you deadpanned. “And in case you forgot, this freshman is helping you with that mess you call a draft.”

He let out a laugh. “Oh that’s how we’re gonna play this?”

You shrugged your shoulders, inspecting your nails nonchalantly. “Just saying.”

“I mean I wouldn’t call it helping,” he teased you back. “More like I’m showing you the ropes.”

You let out a hum, swirling your champagne in the glass.

“I’ve seen first graders with better text cohesion.”

 “Ouch.” He grinned. “That hurt.”

“It shouldn’t,” you said calmly. “You know Lucas, there’s nothing wrong with being bad at things. We all have to start somewhere.”

“Is that right?”

“Mm hm,” you said. “For example, I was just like you when I was in college.”

“Oh, in college?”

“Lost…” You waved a hand in the air. “Clueless. Amateur. Poor in vocabulary.”

He made a face. “No you weren’t, you were the top of your class.”

You tilted your head. “And how would you know that?”

“I have my ways.” He motioned at you to keep going. “But back to dragging me.”

“Oh yeah,” you said. “And then I worked very hard and then…here we are. It might take you longer but you’ll get there.”

“We should’ve called you Viper instead of Hurricane.”

“That does sound more badass than Hurricane—” you started but Lucas’s eyes found someone over your shoulder, his smile wiping off his face immediately, and you frowned before you heard your father’s voice.

“Do you mind, Lucas?”

Lucas looked from your father to you, then shifted his weight and heaved a sigh.

“See you later, Hurricane.”

Your father gave you a small smile as Lucas walked away and you turned to glare at him.

“Dad,” you said through your teeth. “That wasn’t nice.”

“Let’s be serious here, you can do better than a glorified assistant.” He scoffed. “Would you like to dance?”

“I’m working.”

“Oh come on,” he said with a chuckle. “You used to throw fits whenever your mother and I took you to events if we didn’t have our father-daughter dance.”

“Well in my defense, I was like eight,” you replied, keeping your eyes on the people who were dancing in the ballroom. “And half of the government wasn’t in the room. And I wasn’t working.”

“And how is it going at work?” he asked. “I saw Barnes talking to Murray just now. Let me guess, they’ll work together on the veteran bill?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Yeah. And after Bucky is done talking to him, I’ll talk to Congressman Riley about our project for the education of children in low income families.”

“What’s next?” he asked. “We start handing out stacks of money on the street?”

“You have more than enough. Why not?”

“That’s not how it works.”

“At the risk of sounding like a hopeless idealist, I happen to think some of the government money should be used for people in need instead of your buddies buying yachts,” you snarked. “I know it’s a little difficult to understand it for you, the idea of helping people.”

“We do help people, you know.”

“Oh yeah, the world is a much better place with your help.” You snorted and raised your glass in a mock of toast. “They don’t thank you enough.”

“Pumpkin, you know how it goes,” he said. “Some win and some lose. Don’t blame me, I didn’t come up with the rules for this game.”

“No but you keep rigging it,” you growled through your teeth, looking him in the eye. “And for most people, dad, it’s not a game. A lot of people are in need of help. Real help.”

“And you want to be Robin Hood.”

“I want to make a difference in the world,” you insisted. “I’m going to—I’m going to help people—”

“Before or after going on a date with your boss?”

That made you shut up immediately and you pulled back a little, searching your mind for the right words.

“I already talked to mom about this,” you managed to say. “That’s just lies.”

He hummed and took a sip of his drink.

“I don’t appreciate getting my name dragged into tabloid gossip,” he said, his voice void of any emotion. “Any more than I appreciate seeing my daughter put herself in that situation.”

This—

Alright.

You could feel the familiar knots in your stomach, your throat tightening. This was exactly how it would go when you were little, your father’s voice turning into this, and the moment you opened your mouth to explain yourself, yelling would start. Panic was already giving you nausea but you managed to keep your expression flat before you downed your drink and put it on a tray a waiter was carrying just so that you could cross your arms to hide the trembling of your hands.

“I don’t control what the PR comes up with,” you pointed out. “And I didn’t put myself in any situation—”

“I’m not interested in excuses,” he cut you off, his voice low but stern. “I’m interested in solutions. Make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

With that, he walked away from you, leaving you there dumbfounded as you felt your breath hitching in your throat.

No.

This was not happening, not right now and especially not here.

You darted through the ballroom as subtly as you could without getting any attention on you, then stepped out into the hallway to rush to the bathroom. You slammed the door open, then ran to the nearest stool to throw up, pushing the button to flush it before you put the lid down, and sat on top of it.

Your hands were still shaking and you closed your eyes shut, trying to keep your breathing under control.

This was just nonsense. You weren’t a child anymore, your father couldn’t yell at you without you yelling back, and there was no way he would’ve tried to yell at you surrounded by all those people in the ballroom but—

But the fear of disappointing him was still enough to make you throw up.

It took you almost half an hour to pull yourself together. You massaged your temples, willing the headache to disappear before you stepped out of the stool, then walked to the sink to wash your hands, then kept them under the cold water.

The girl next to you gave you a sympathetic smile. “I hate these things too.”

“You have no idea,” you muttered. “Any chance you have mints?”

“Oh yeah, here.” She reached into her purse to pull out a pack of mints and you took one to pop it in your mouth.

“Thanks.”

“I’m Mel,” she said. “I work for Valentina Allegra de Fontaine.”

“CIA.” You whistled. “Badass. I work for Congressman Barnes.”

Her jaw dropped. “Oh, I knew I’ve seen you somewhere, in that—”

She stopped herself mid-sentence and you heaved a sigh.

“That gossip piece, yeah.”

“I didn’t mean to be rude, sorry.”

“You weren’t rude,” you said. “No worries.”

Her phone buzzed in her hand and she checked it, then turned to you.

“Gotta go but it’s nice to meet you.”

“You too,” you said and turned to check your makeup in the mirror, then grabbed a tissue to dab at your eyes.

“Get your shit together,” you muttered to yourself and threw the tissue into the garbage can, then walked out of the bathroom. You slowly made your way toward the ballroom but when you felt your throat tightening, you huffed out and turned the nearest corner to another empty hallway, then sat on the stairs.

Fine, you apparently needed more time.

You didn’t even have the energy to check your phone that kept buzzing because that meant you needed to go into the ballroom, so you kept it in your lap while you wrung your hands, then cracked your knuckles one by one. Counting in your head, you took a deep breath, and leaned your forehead on your knees to focus before you exhaled.

“Here you are.”

It was almost funny how with just his voice he managed to pull you out of the spiral of your thoughts. You could feel your lips pulling into a small smile and you took another breath, then lifted your head to look up at him.

He was way too handsome.

“You okay?” he asked, his blue eyes searching your face and you scoffed, waving a hand in the air.

“Drinking champagne on an empty stomach isn’t the best idea.”

“You think so?”

“Oh yeah,” you said. “Just gonna take five and then go back. How about you, why are you here?”

“I don’t really like the whole…” He motioned in the direction of the ballroom and you raised your brows.

“Socializing in order to manipulate people?”

“That and just—people,” he admitted, then nodded at the stair you were sitting on. “Got room for one more person in there?”

You scooted over and he sat down next to you, making you let out a giggle.

“You do know that we’re supposed to be in there working people?”

“It’s not like they’re going anywhere.”

“Still,” you said. “I doubt many politicians or employees are hiding from the crowd sitting on a staircase.”

“Well, you’re the only person I actually want to sit with tonight,” he said with a shrug, as if that didn’t make your stomach flutter. “What’s your excuse?”

Focus.

“How did it go with Murray?”

“He wanted me to share stories.”

“From the front?”

He nodded and you scrunched up your nose. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, I’m used to it.”

You fell silent for a couple of seconds, then turned sideways to see him better, resting your chin on your fist.

“I wonder about that too sometimes, you know?”

He frowned. “The front?”

You shook your head. “Who you were back then. I mean I saw the footage with the Howling Commandos and Steve Rogers, and you were…” You paused for a second and sat up straighter, grinning at him. “Tell me who you were.”

“You know who I was,” he said as if the answer was obvious and you shook your head again.

“I’m not asking about Sergeant Barnes, or the Winter Soldier,” you told him. “I’m asking about James Bucky Barnes before the war.”

He raised his brows like he hadn’t thought about that in a long time. You had seen that look on his face before, a mixture of curiosity and longing as he fell into silence, trying to dig up a memory that wasn’t full of trauma or bloodshed, a memory that was warm and pleasant and carefree.

“Well, things were difficult even before the war,” he started. “But I think I was happy. Me and Steve, we basically grew up together. My mother would always put a plate on the table for him on Sunday breakfast.”

A soft smile warmed your face. “That’s sweet of her.”

“We would get in trouble sometimes, which she hated,” he said. “Me and Steve, we once went to Rockaway Beach, and had to come back to Brooklyn on the back of a freezer truck.”

“Wait, why?”

He let out a chuckle. “Well, Steve spent our money on hot dogs, and I was trying to impress this girl, Dot.”

Your grin widened. “Ah?”

“So I spent 3 dollars trying to win a stuffed bear for her, which meant we had no money to go back, so we hitchhiked.”

You pulled out your phone.

“I need to check something, give me a second,” you said and quickly typed it into google, then gasped.

“3 dollars back then is— Bucky, you spent 70 dollars on a stuffed bear to impress a girl?” you exclaimed. “During Great Depression?”

“Mm hm.”

“Please tell me you did win the goddamn stuffed bear.”

“I did actually,” he said with a smirk. “And she was impressed, so money well spent.”

“So in your order of priorities,” you said, motioning with your hands, “impressing the girl was higher than going back to Brooklyn safe and sound? And comfortable?”

“Yeah, she was pretty.”

“And that’s enough reason?” You gawked at him. “She was pretty?”

He nodded his head. “Yeah. And she wanted the stuffed bear.”

You bit your lip to contain your smile and heaved a sigh, then leaned back to narrow your eyes at him playfully.

“I knew it.”

“Knew what?”

“That it wasn’t just a rumor. You really were a charming ladies’ man back then.”

He let out a noise of disagreement. “That’s not exactly…”

“Bucky, you looked like this.” You gestured at his face. “And I saw you in that footage, with Steve Rogers and The Howling Commandos. Come on, you were popular with women, it’s very obvious.”

That boyish smile pulled at his lips again. “Someone had to make sure Steve got a date, and double dates were all the rage back then.”

“Oh I’m sure you did all that for him.” You played along with a pout. “Of course. Did you use to dance as well?”

“I did, actually. Steve hated it, I didn’t mind.”

You hummed, fixing the silky skirts of your dress as you crossed your legs and he eyed you up and down, then leaned in so that you could hear his teasing tone.

“Do you wanna dance?”

That made your head whip around and you gawked at him before you snorted a laugh.

“Yeah, let’s go dance in the ballroom full of people we work with, and the media,” you said. “After that PR disaster? Terrible idea.”

“I didn’t say it had to be in the ballroom,” he said and stood up to offer you his hand, awakening butterflies in your stomach.

“Bucky…”

“It’s a waste of music if a pretty dame like you isn’t dancing to it darlin’,” he said with that old Brooklyn accent, a laugh spilling from your mouth before you scrunched up your face in embarrassment, then took his hand, a fire spreading from your fingers to your whole body.

“God, no wonder why Dot was impressed,” you said as he pulled you closer and wrapped his vibranium arm around your waist, smiling down at you.

“Is that right?”

It felt like your heart was trying to climb out of your chest and a giggle bloomed in your throat as he twirled you, then pulled you closer again.

“So this is James Bucky Barnes,” you mused. “I like him. I’d probably work for him back in the 1940s if he decided to get in politics.”

“He didn’t have any plans for politics, trust me.”

“Yeah well, it wouldn’t stop me. I’d talk him into it.”

That managed to coax a laugh out of him, the rare sound making you smile wide.

“I’d make him hire me,” you said. “Through Dot, by the way. Convince the wife and get the husband situation.”

He chuckled, shaking his head.

“Yeah I don’t think he would up with Dot.”

“Because he’s a ladies’ man?”

“Because he is an idiot,” he said softly as you both swayed with music. “He messed things up with her.”

Your eyes snapped up to his and you gulped, realizing that you weren't talking about Dot anymore.

“Beyond saving?”

“Feels that way.”

You scrunched up your nose. “That doesn’t sound right.”

“Well, he backed himself into a corner,” he said, sadness etched on his handsome face. “Right person, wrong time.”

You could hardly hear him from the rush of blood in your ears, but you managed to shrug your shoulders, taking a deep breath.

“Maybe,” you said. “Or maybe it’s just another excuse for him to torture himself. I mean, time has to give him a break at some point, so they just need to find the corner their lines cross.”

A slow smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, but before he could say anything, you both heard the sound of heels on the marble floor and you pulled your hand from his, stepping out of his embrace even if your body urged you not to. You fixed your hair just so that you could keep your hands busy and Kelsey appeared at the corner, then pulled her brows together.

“Hi,” she said after a beat. “Bucky, Caleb was looking for you.”

Bucky nodded and turned to look at you. “Are you…?”

“I actually need to borrow her for a moment,” Kelsey said and you motioned at the ballroom.

“You go, I’ll be right there.”

Bucky walked past Kelsey to make his way into the ballroom and Kelsey approached you.

“Anything you’d like to tell me?”

“Long story,” you said. “I’ll tell you when we get home. Is everything okay in there?”

“I just saw Hazel leave,” she said. “Caleb thinks it’s an urgent business thing, she’s been here all week.”

“Does Bucky know?”

“That’s what Caleb wanted to ask him I think,” she said, linking her arm with yours. “Now come on. You can’t leave me alone with those assholes, and I think I’ve been flirting with a journalist so you need to tell me whether he’s hot or just tall.”

                                               *

Apparently, Hazel had left without letting Bucky know, so he had left as well to make sure she was alright, which meant you and Kelsey and Caleb could go home.

“We should’ve stolen a champagne bottle or something,” Caleb said while he laid on the floor on his back and you played with the corner of the pillow you were sitting on.

“I’ll keep that in mind the next time we go to a gala. So the journalist, Kels?”

“He is kinda cute,” Kelsey said. “Like a puppy.”

“But he’s a journalist,” Caleb said. “I mean, can he be trusted?”

“Caleb, this is yet another instance we have to remind you that we work in politics,” you said, motioning between you. “Journalists think the same about us.”

“You work in politics, I work in communications.”

“Communications in politics.”

“That’s a detail though—” he started but was cut off when his phone started buzzing.

“At this hour?” Kelsey asked as Caleb sat up and answered the phone while you leaned in to hear what it was about.

“Hello? Yes, this is he.” Caleb said and listened to the other line, his eyes widening.

“What?” you whispered and he motioned at you to be silent, standing up to pace in the room. He ran his hand through his hair, letting out a breath.

“Uh, Mr. Barnes didn’t bring me up to speed I’m afraid,” he said, his gaze snapping to you before he mouthed ‘What the fuck’ and nodded as if the other person could see him. “Yeah that sounds like a great idea. Do you have my email address? Okay, great, I’ll check it out right now and get back to you, and we can put it out. Thank you, have a nice evening.”

He hung up and whirled on his heels to look at you and Kelsey.

“What the fuck?”

“What’s going on?”

“That was Hazel’s PR team.” He held up his phone. “They want to check in with me to see if their statement is in line with ours.”

“What statement?”

“Their break up statement.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you gawked at him, disbelief crashing down on you while you reached to hold Kelsey’s arm.

“What?”

“I—what happened while you two were in that hallway?” Caleb asked you and you shook your head.

“We just danced,” you insisted while his eyes darted on the lines on his screen. “I swear. We were dancing and joking about his past—”

“Right before Kelsey found you?”

“Yeah!”

Caleb gritted his teeth and turned to Kelsey.

“And you found them right after Hazel left?”

A look of realization dawned on Kelsey’s face. “…Yeah.”

“No that’s not related,” you insisted, jumping on your feet. “I would’ve noticed if she saw us, or Bucky would—”

“A bunch of people were coming and going to the hallway next to it, he easily could’ve chalked it up to anyone else passing there.”

Your heart was pounding in your head as you covered your mouth.

“Good news is, there’s literally nothing about you on this statement,” Caleb murmured, his attention on his phone. “And her team said nothing about it either—shit, did we have her sign an NDA?”

“Knowing Bucky? I doubt it,” Kelsey said while Caleb touched his screen, then put the phone to his ear.

“Bucky,” he said, making your head whip up. “Hey. Yeah she’s fine. Yeah, I’m fine too. Uh…so friendly reminder, you’re supposed to tell me if you broke up with your girlfriend so that I can put out a statement before her team calls me. Because—” Caleb threw his hand in the air in exasperation. “Because that’s how it works. No, forget what I said about the Bachelor. Did you have her sign anything?” Caleb pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course you didn’t. Okay, I need you to tell me what happened in detail.”

You rushed to your room to change into a t-shirt and jeans as fast as you could, then stepped into the living room again.

“Are you going to Bucky’s place?” Kelsey whispered while Caleb kept pacing in the room, trying to convince Bucky that privacy didn’t exist in a situation like this, and you shook your head, making her frown.

“Then what—Birdie, no.” Her voice was stern as she realized what you were about to do. “That’s a terrible idea.”

“What hotel is she staying at, Kels?”

“You’re the last person she wants to see, you do realize that?”

“And I owe her an explanation, you know that,” you said. “There’s no way she is at Bucky’s place, so what hotel?”

Kelsey pulled out her phone with a sigh, then touched the screen for a minute before your phone vibrated.

“There, the location, and the room number,” she said. “Bucky went there the other day.”

“Thank you,” you said, grabbing your coat on your way to the door. “I’ll text you.”

With that, you slammed the door behind you and rushed outside, raising your hand for a taxi.

                                        *

You knew Hazel didn’t want to see you.

You couldn’t even blame her. You had a pretty clear idea how that dance would look to an outsider, much less to her.

But you knew you had to explain yourself, and apologize.

You cracked your knuckles nervously as the elevator door opened, the door at the end of the hallway greeting you. Letting out a breath, you rolled your shoulders back and forced yourself to approach the door, then raised your fist to knock on it and stepped back, clasping your hands to stop the shaking.

Hazel scoffed a laugh when she opened the door.

“Oh this is gonna be fun,” she said, her voice calm despite her red-rimmed eyes. “Finished your dance?”

You closed your eyes for a second before you opened them.

“Miss Brooks, I’m really sorry,” you started, making her raise her brows as if she was amused. “I know how it looks like, but I swear to you nothing happened. I was feeling bad, that’s why I left the ballroom, but there’s nothing going on between us.”

“Yes there is.”

“No, I assure you—”

“Oh, you guys aren’t sleeping together.” Hazel waved a hand in the air. “But there is something between you. You know it, I know it, and Bucky also knows it even if he likes to pretend otherwise. He knew it throughout the time he was trying to make himself fall in love with me.”

You pulled back slightly, straining your mind to find the right thing to say.

“Miss Brooks—”

“I’m not going to say anything to the press,” she said. “So if that’s why you’re here, you can go away.”

You shook your head. “That’s not why I’m here.”

“Then why are you here?”

“To apologize.”

Hazel held your gaze in hers as if she was trying to find any sign of dishonesty, then let out a breath.

“Listen, I’m going to show you this courtesy only because I’m not proud of how I treated you back in that bathroom,” she said. “I was still pretty angry, but blaming you makes no sense. That’s not the type of person I am, or the type of person I want to be.”

You wrung your hands, staring at her.

“I mean I asked him to fire you,” she said after a beat. “Not my proudest moment.”

“I get it,” you rasped out and she took a deep breath.

“And I hope you understand what I’m about to say doesn’t come from a place of hostility,” she said. “But from woman to woman? Don’t do it.”

Your eyes snapped up to hers, your throat tightening.

“You know how it goes,” she said, her voice almost sad. “You’ve seen how quick the public was to forgive him for everything. His PR was good but no PR is that good, they want to love him. The guy is a superhero, he could walk away from politics today and it wouldn’t make any difference. They will still love him.”

You sniffled and wiped your nose, nodding your head.

“So you know what will happen,” she said. “This is one of the rare things that hasn’t changed since the 40s, no matter what anyone says. He will be their hero, and you will be the whore.”

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, tears blurring your vision.

“I need you to understand that,” she told you. “Doesn’t matter if I like you or not, I wouldn’t wish it upon any woman. They will fucking tear you apart, and trust me, not even the big bad Winter Soldier can protect you from that.”  

Don’t cry.

Do not cry.

“And he doesn’t even see it.” She scoffed a laugh. “But you do. You’re smart, something inside you has to be warning you against this. You know the moment he steps out with you, he will be throwing you to the wolves.”

Your hand shot up to wipe at your eyes and you nodded again, heaving a shaky sigh while she gave you an apologetic smile.

“Good luck,” she said. “You’re going to need it.”

She closed the door and you balled your hands into fists, digging your fingernails into your palms to focus on anything other than the tears falling from your eyes. You slowly made your way to the elevator to step in, watching the doors close.

And then you started sobbing.

Chapter 12

[kaxserlvr]

It was supposed to be a normal date. Just dinner, some casual conversation, maybe a walk through the park afterward. That’s all you and Kaiser had planned.

But a little girl, no more than five or six, standing in the middle of the park with a lost look on her face. Her tiny hands clutched a teddy bear, her eyes wide and teary.

You immediately crouched down to her level, your voice soft. “Hey, sweetie, are you okay?”

She sniffled, shaking her head. “I lost my mommy.”

Kaiser was standing beside you , arms crossed, looking annoyed. “We can’t just babysit some kid. We’re on a date.”

You gave him a side eye and ignored him, your focus completely on the girl. “Don’t worry. We’ll help you find your mommy, okay?”

The little girl nodded, wiping her eyes. Kaiser muttered something under his breath, but you didn’t catch it. You just stood up and looked at him. “Come on, let’s help her. It’ll only take a little bit.”

He sighed, looking around. “This is ridiculous.”

But even though he complained, you could tell he wasn’t going to walk away from a kid in need. He just stood there, reluctantly waiting for you to take the lead.

You guys spent hours walking around the park, asking around, checking every corner for any sign of the little girl’s mother. Kaiser was grumpy the entire time, rolling his eyes every time you knelt down to talk to the girl, offering her some comfort or reassurance.

But as the hours passed, something began to change in him.

The little girl clung to him more, her small hand reaching for his every time we walked. At first, he’d stiffen, pulling away, but then, slowly, he started to soften. Every now and then, he’d look down at her with something like gentleness in his eyes, even offering her a small smile when she’d giggle at one of his sarcastic remarks.

“You’re pretty good with her,” you said, glancing up at him as you guys walked down a new path, the girl holding onto his hand now.

Kaiser shot you a look, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “I’m not the baby whisperer, you know.”

But his words lacked the usual bite. You could tell he was starting to enjoy the little girl’s company,how she’d shyly ask him to pick her up when she got tired, how he’d pretend to grumble but do it anyway. He was showing a side of himself you hadn’t seen in a long time, a softer, quieter side.

When you guys finally found her mother, a woman frantically searching the park. The girl ran toward her, and the woman scooped her up in a tight embrace.

“Thank you so much,” the woman said, tears in her eyes. “I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

You smiled, patting the girl on the head. “Glad we could help.”

Kaiser, who had been unusually quiet throughout the whole ordeal, cleared his throat. “Yeah, no problem,” he muttered.

You both waved them off, watching the mother and daughter walk away. The entire experience had been exhausting, but something about it felt… right. Like you could’ve stayed with that little girl forever, and Kaiser might’ve felt the same.

You guys didn’t say much on the way home, the air between you both heavier than it had been before. When you got back to your apartment, you set your things down and flopped onto the couch, tired but content. Kaiser leaned against the doorframe, looking lost in thought.

“You okay?” You asked, watching him closely.

He looked down at you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just studied you with an intensity you weren’t used to. Then, finally, he spoke, his voice quieter than usual.

“You really are good with kids,” he said softly.

You smiled. “I like to think so. I’ve always wanted a family.”

Kaiser didn’t respond right away, instead, he walked over to the couch and sat beside you . His arm brushed against yours, and you could feel the tension in his muscles. He looked at you again, his voice low, almost thoughtful.

“I’ve thought I didn’t want kids,” he admitted, his gaze flicking to the floor for a second. “Thought I wasn’t the kind of guy who could handle it.”

You tilted your head, waiting for him to continue.

“But after today…” His fingers grazed the edge of your hand. “I don’t know. Watching you with her… it felt like family.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you turned to face him, eyes wide. “What are you saying?”

Kaiser’s expression shifted, his jaw clenching before he sighed. “I guess I’m saying I was wrong. I could be… I could be good at it. At being a father, I mean.”

The words hung in the air, and for a long moment, neither of you spoke. He seemed to be processing it all, his usual cocky demeanor replaced by a rawness that was completely uncharacteristic.

Finally, he looked at you, his face flushed. “It’s just after seeing how you are… I can’t help but think you’d be an amazing mom. And maybe… maybe I could be a good dad, too.”

Your heart thudded in your chest, the weight of his words sinking in.

He suddenly leaned in, his breath warm against your skin. “I don’t know if we’re ready for that yet, but… I’ve been thinking about it.”

You couldn’t help but smile, reaching for his hand. “Maybe not now…but we’ll figure it out together.”

Kaiser stared at you, his face still soft, as if something inside him had shifted. He kissed you softly, and for a moment, it felt like you were already a family—no words needed, just the quiet understanding that whatever happened next, you’d be there for each other.

Always

[tovibeornottovibe]

Club Rats

Azriel x Fem!OC (Merrin)

Azriel and Merrin have been meeting in clubs for months now. Sometimes, they ditch Rita's for dinner, and most of the time, they end up sleeping together. It's better than relying on the skills of strangers, and they like each other, probably more than either of them would admit. This time, they drink far, far too much, make some regrettable decisions that get them thrown out, and share a moment more intimate than they ever have before. [2.7k words]

warnings: excessive drinking, mentions of spiking and Azriel not taking that as seriously as you should!, self-destructive behaviour, mentions of sex (no smut tho), Azriel being the rude, snarky, imperfect male that he is (not towards the OC, to everyone else)

Prefer to read on Ao3? [this is a series there! let me know if you want me to post those fics on here too (:]

“Azriel.”

He looks up. The sound of the sea washes over him as he sits there, legs hanging off the edge of the dock, with his thigh brushing hers. His wings feel like deadweight, like his muscles aren’t even connected to his body. She’s settled in the crook of the right one, and every time she breathes, her shoulder nudges him where he wants her to put her tongue.

It’s maybe four-in-the-morning. He doesn’t know. They got kicked out of Rita’s not more than an hour ago. Merrin bashed in some male’s teeth. Azriel bashed in his jaw. His shadows won’t tell him why she did it, and he doesn’t know why he helped. 

For the briefest moment, he remembers that they might have banned them for it. He huffs out a laugh.

Both he and Merrin are very, very drunk. He’s not entirely convinced they didn’t get spiked. It should concern him, but they’re both suffering, and that’s a comfort. 

They’ve been trying  to convince each other that they were just in this for the sex for the past few minutes. They like each other, but it’s just release, you know?

Head heavy from the alcohol, he cranes his neck forward to look at her face. He distinctly thinks she is the most beautiful female he’s ever seen, and guiltily goes through why she’s prettier than Elain. It’s totally unfair and he knows thinking about it makes him an asshole. Merrin’s hair is a nicer colour and she lacks the etherealness of High Fae that unsettles him. She fits better in his arms; she’s tall enough that he can rest his chin on her head without bending down when they embrace, and when they’re in bed, he can tangle their legs together and she can settle into the curve of his body without issue. Of course, these things were fantasy with Elain.

He swallows thickly. “Yeah?”

She hesitates and something in his gut twists, like he can tell she’s about to say something serious. 

“Are we—are you happy?”

For some reason, that makes him laugh. It’s a horrible, bitter, broken kind of laughter. It’s utterly without warmth. He hates it, actually.

“No,” he says, and it’s true. “Are you?”

She offers him a smile. “Not at all,” she says. “What a fucking pair we make, eh?” Something inside him recoils at the thought of her putting herself at his level. Giggling, she presses her forehead into his shoulder and clutches his forearm where the scars on his skin meet the unmarred flesh. Then she sighs. “Gods,” she says like she’s just discovered the secret to life, “you’re actually an important person, and you’re miserable.”

“It’s not all cocktail parties and fountains of champagne,” he says.

“No,” she laughs. “You torture people for a living.”

Though he stiffens, not even that can knock him out of whatever it was they drank. Feeling him tense, she shifts so her chin is resting on his shoulder, and she laughs again when she sees the look on his face.

“It doesn’t bother me,” she says. “That’s kinda fucked, right?”

It’s stupid that it makes him feel good. It’s stupid that he likes hearing that. Some days, he doesn’t think it bothers him either. And yeah, that is kinda fucked. He kills people for his brother. A lot of the time, they probably don’t even deserve it. Yet, here he is, with the most gorgeous female in the world, drunk off his ass with her, and she doesn’t care that he tortures people for a living.

“It is,” he says. “Really fucked.”

Merrin grabs his hand and intertwines their fingers, and he lets her because he wants her to touch him. All of the time. He thinks about her so often that one day it’ll probably get him killed, but if he goes out with her on his mind, he’ll consider it a pretty decent way to die. Cassian would throttle him for saying that. Rhys and Feyre too. Mor would look at him like he’d lost his mind and call him an idiot.

Merrin would make a joke and smile at him.

“I don’t think we’re fucking tonight, Azriel.”

He hums in agreement. “We’re not in a state to do that anyway,” he says, “but I would if we were.”

“I would too.” She goes back to resting her cheek against his shoulder and he can smell the shampoo she uses. Gently, she rubs circles with her thumb on the back of his palm. It’s probably more intimate than they have ever been in bed and the feeling runs up his arm and into his brain. He traces her reddened, bloodied knuckles. “Wanna just sleep?”

He raises a brow at her. “Together?”

“Literally. In the same bed. Just sleep.”

“...Okay.”

“Come on then,” she says softly, pulling herself up more gracefully than the amount of drink in her system should allow for, then she’s tugging him up too, despite the fact that he’s heavier. With the amount of force it takes, she almost loses her balance and tips backwards, but he catches her at the waist. “Back to mine?”

In response, his shadows languidly start to swirl at his shoulders. They’re objecting to the presence of her cat, but the chances are that it’ll be asleep, or otherwise outside, since it likes exploring the city in the early hours of the morning. 

Raskal meows at the bedroom door at inconvenient times: sometimes when they’re asleep; sometimes when they’re in the middle of something else. It’s so achingly domestic that Azriel can’t even be annoyed. Merrin always comes back after letting Raskal out and buries her face into the crook of his neck, clings to his torso like he might disappear if she didn’t. She blames it on the cold, but she’s from the Winter Court and never gets chilly. If he’s awake enough, he pulls her on top of him and cards his hands through her hair, usually in an attempt to lull her back to sleep.

Hand-in-hand, they stumble back through the city to her apartment. Merrin makes him crouch down so she can pet a stray cat for what seems like half an hour, but it’s really only for a few minutes. Passersby stare at them and look away when he glares. No one will mention what they see, not to the rest of the Inner Circle; that’s asking for trouble, and the city has had enough. 

He has no idea why he’s letting her do this with him. They aren’t together. They’re club rats who keep finding themselves in each other’s company and more often than not, they end up sleeping together because they trust each other and it’s easier than gaining the attention of a stranger. 

Though, recently, they’ve been ditching Rita’s for dinner, and he’s glad because these days he’s eating less and less when he’s in the House of Wind. Merrin takes him to little bistros he knows only by name. He brings her to fancy restaurants and she always laughs because they look so out-of-place with her in slinky, little dresses and with his lipstick-stained cheeks that the High Fae actually turn up their noses. She once ate a whole meal with her fingers to really push it, and they couldn’t kick them out because he’s a member of the Inner Circle. Things like that are why he likes her company. She’s so unconcerned about what other people think of her in the way that the rest of his family pretend they are. 

She’s a smart person. She understands that people assume things about the nature of their relationship, about her, and about him, even though they know nothing. More than once, she’s been called a whore, and, more than once, he’s scared someone shitless for it. And she doesn’t care. Not that she should be ashamed, but Azriel isn’t certain that Merrin ever feels shame for anything she does. Regret, maybe, but not humiliation. 

People, the ones whose opinions are worth listening to, like Merrin. She’s compassionate and generous and she can make even him roar with laughter. She isn’t those things because she wants approval for them, she just is. It’s so rare that he meets someone who has no ulterior motive, who speaks their mind and says what they want with no caveats.

Azriel can’t tell if he’s in love with her or if they’re just friends who fuck sometimes. If they’re really friends at all. He doesn’t know which of those things he even wants. He knows that he likes holding her hand. Likes the sound of her voice and that his heart stutters sometimes when she laughs. He could sit and listen to her go on tangents about anything and everything for hours on end. 

Her choice of dress tonight is driving him insane: the black velvet hugs her curves and it barely reaches her mid-thigh. Open at the back, the expanse of her smooth skin that he has dragged his hands down countless times teases him. He wants to pull at the curls in her hair.

When they’re in bed, he’s almost insatiable. He’ll stay between her thighs and do pretty much anything she asks of him. Seeing her flawless form when she punched that male earlier sent twitching heat racketing through him. But so does waking up to her making tea, wearing his shirt, humming to herself. 

It’s a lie that he isn’t happy. Here, on this random street in Velaris, with his head pounding and his legs not quite working as they should, in Merrin’s blissful presence, he’s happier than ever.

Maybe he does love her.

Would she have invited him back to her apartment just to sleep if all she wanted from him was sex?

Would it feel so normal to be with her, to recognise the scent of her even in a crowd of writhing bodies in a club, if he didn’t feel something for her? 

Is it strange that he sleeps better in bed with her curled into his side than he ever has in the townhouse? That she can chase away his bad dreams just by tightening her grip on his waist? That he hasn’t had anyone else because the thought of sleeping with another makes him feel ill?

He can’t figure it out and maybe doesn’t want to right now.

He squeezes her hand and drags her away from the stray, leading her down alleyways so they can get to the townhouse where she owns the top-floor apartment. The stairwell is in no way designed for Illyrians, so his wings scrape against the walls. She's pushing him up in front of her so he goes quicker and doesn’t have to endure the discomfort for so long. They’re definitely stamping about and waking her neighbours.

But they’ve undoubtedly done that before. He’s reminded of the time he carried her upstairs and didn’t wait until they were at her door before he pulled her underwear down. Merrin shamelessly moaned his name particularly loudly halfway up and complained in the morning that the female who lives below her might not cat-sit for her on account of disturbed sleep. He’d snickered. She smacked him in the arm.

Not tonight, he reminds himself. Tonight, they’re sleeping off whatever was in their drinks.

When her front door clicks shut behind them, he almost pins her against it and kisses her. It’s only her ducking under his arm and taking him to her bedroom by grabbing his shirt which stops him. He can kiss her in bed, he thinks. Not with any expectations. He just wants to.

“I think I lied earlier,” she says, pulling at the ties of her dress before he takes over for her wordlessly, letting her continue. “I am happy sometimes. I just don’t think I’m content. They’re different, right?” She peers over her shoulder at him when his fingers still at the small of her back, the dress starting to slip off her as he nears the final tie. 

“They are,” he replies. “I don’t think I’m content either.” Then he undoes the final tie and the dress falls to the floor in a heap of black velvet. She steps out of her stupidly high heels and kicks them towards the door. 

He’s absolutely not focusing on the fact that she’s left wearing nothing but lacy, black panties. He’s not thinking about the fact she’s topless as she disappears into the bathroom to clean off her makeup. He does not care that when she comes back and he’s lying on her bed in his underwear that she picks up his shirt and drapes it around herself to sleep in.

Instead of going to her side, Merrin climbs on top of him, her knees in the space between his hips and his wings, and he instinctively curls his arm around her to pull her down to him. She’s practically pinning him down with her arms braced against the pillow below his head. Despite the Autumn chill, she’s warm.

He gets his kiss. It’s tender, slow, and without heat. Her lips are soft and he lets her push her tongue in his mouth lazily. They’re uncoordinated and a little messy, but it’s fine, he doesn’t care because it’s her. It feels like they’re the only two people in the world, like all things have led to right here, right now, and he thinks that everything that’s happened to him has been worth it. When they separate, she presses chaste, wet kisses on his cheeks and along his jaw and makes him smile. 

“What would make you content, Az?” she asks quietly.

He could say lots of things, most of them he shouldn’t admit to because they’re both still drunk and it’s a bad idea to make serious decisions when your head feels like lead. 

But…

“Just—stay there,” he says, shaking the vulnerability from his tone, sliding his hands under the shirt and settling them at her hips. He refrains from toying with the waistband of her underwear.

Merrin kisses the crest of his brow and his cheekbones. “What?” she asks, smiling when he starts to blush. “For the whole night?” He hums confirmation. She whispers against his lips, “That would make you content?”

“If I wake up with you on top of me too.” The distance between them is closed. He runs his fingers along the back of her thigh while his other hand creeps up the dip of her spine, pulling her impossibly closer until they’re chest-to-chest and he can feel how her nipples have pebbled through her—his—shirt. Of her own accord, she shifts her hips a little lower until she’s sitting on his pelvis, giving him just a hint of friction. He tuts and pulls away. “What happened to just sleeping, Merrin?”

They need to rest. At the same time, he also needs to know how wet she’ll be if he sinks a finger into her tight heat. She’s always so… reactive. Learning all her sensitive spots has been a lesson he never wants to finish. She isn’t shy about showing him. 

She catches his hand before he can satisfy his curiosity.

“Just reminding you of what we would be doing if we hadn’t drunk that last bottle of liqueur,” she says, shimmying even lower so she can rest her head on his chest, slotting her legs between his thighs. 

He sighs a laugh, his eyelids suddenly heavy. “Like I needed reminding.” When he rests his free hand on the back of her head, dipping his fingers into the fine hair at the top of her neck, he feels her melt against him and fully relax. He tugs the covers and pulls them over the both of them. “What would make you content?” he asks softly, letting himself sync his breathing with the rise and fall of her shoulders, with the soft puffs of air he can feel on his pectoral where his tattoos mingle with her flaring curls. Somehow, the sight of them doesn’t make him wince as often as it used to, but he sees them more these days. Merrin likes to trace the lines of ink in the mornings.

“I don’t know,” she says, “‘suppose we’ll find out if I feel the same as you when we wake up.”

He blames the drinking, but he hopes that she does.

[literaryslapshot]

wordless apology being accepted

pretty pls need this with sidney, can be coach!sidney or not, whatever you wanna do 💞

february prompts | coach!sidney x fem!reader

remember how y'all said you wanted the angst....yeah...

"hey, ryan's doing great in practice. he is the best kid a coach could ask for, really," sidney gave his players parents praise in the stands. it was thirty minutes until puck drop. occasionally before games sidney would go up in the bleachers and talk to parents while he could. he wanted to keep the relationship with his player's parent's strong, knowing that he was for their kids just as much as they were.

he sat next to y/n right before going back down to the bench on the ice. his hand subtly rested on her thigh as he listened to you talk about all you did that day, the parent meetings after class. he wished that he had time to actually talk to her, had time to sit with y/n and hear her go into more detail. but mid season he has to find a little bit of time to sit with her where he can.

"carter's getting better every day. i talked to the coach from arizona state today, he called wanting to know about him." sidney said, taking some of the popcorn she held in her hand. whipping her head to make eye contact she felt a few butterflies fluttering about in her stomach, college coaches already?

"but he's a freshman? are they even allowed to reach out when they're freshmen?" those were the questions that y/n was able to put words to, but in her head she had a thousand and one roaming about.

"all i told him was that he's everything a good program needs, he'll only get better with time, but to give me a call in a couple more years. coaches can go look and scout players as young as they want, but typically they don't get offered until they're a junior," sidney explained, "but if they're good...which carter is, then yeah. they can call, i got calls when i was in the eighth grade."

y/n felt intimidated, she isn't ready for conversations with college coaches and she knows carter isn't either. y/n just wants carter to enjoy the innocence of it all before dollar signs get thrown in his face.

"ten minute mark, i better get down there. want me to meet you guys at the restaurant?" she nodded her head and gave him a kiss on the cheek for good luck. by now parents had put two and two together of y/n and sindey's relationship. she had been approached and so has sidney, but for the most part it's been supportive. a few rumors here and there, but how can they complain when their son has the best coach in the country?

sidney starts to walk down the steps and takes a second to get somewhat of an outside perspective on warmups. hands in his pants pocket watching the opposing team but his thoughts were interrupted when a man approached him.

"i have a, uh, question," the man seemed nervous. he was stuttering over his words, not in a drunk way but he was extremely anxious over something. "can you maybe tell me," he took a breath before moving on, "which one my son is?"

sidney was taken back- no, he was floored. is this a joke? is this man serious?

"are you joking with me man?" sidney asked, taking a half step back to face the mans body with his. but from the way sidney looked in his eyes, they were nearly glossed over with fear and intimidation. the man shook his head as he looked on the ice again.

"i've been out of his life, i haven't been a good man and i'll be the first to admit that but, please i gotta start somewhere. saw his picture in the paper and i recognized him from the letters and stuff my mom sends me- his name's carter."

sidney pulled his lip between his teeth. he felt his leg start to shake and his stomach coil from anger, his hands grew sweaty as he balled them up in fists. he looked this man, this small weak man in the eye, he leaned into his level, "your son is number eighty in black. now get the fuck out of my arena before i have you kicked out, you fuckin-"

before sidney could say what he wanted to he felt y/n's hands on his chest pushing him back, "go to the bench, i'll handle him."

sidney looked down at her then back at the man behind y/n. he was still raging with anger on the inside, but did as told and walked down to the bench. when he got down there he watched as she talked to him a little bit before walking him out of the arena.

"what the hell are you doing here, john?" y/n finally asked as they stood out in the cold. she had kept in vague contact with john, trying since they divorced when carter was five to get him to come by at least once. for a birthday, christmas, or even an easter. but he never did.

occasionally he would send a gift card or a card with some cash, but y/n wasn't fully convinced it was him. she had her suspicions that his mother did it. she was involved in her grandson's life; she repeatedly apologized for her son's actions and for his absence. she was just as disappointed as anyone else was.

"'cause i feel horrible, y/n." was all he could say. it was all he had been thinking the past year. "i...i started going to therapy, and i've been trying to get the courage over a year and i just...i wanna be involved. i wanna be there, i wanna get to know my son."

"well you should've thought about that before you walked out on me and your son with your secretary, john. you should have thought about that before you chose a woman who was barely twenty years old over your wife and your child, you had the chance but you lost it."

y/n had so much more to say. she had thought for a long time what she would say if she got the chance. she often rehearsed in her head all that she would say, all that she would yell and scream at john for. she thought about all of it.

"y/n just give me a chance!" john shouted, taking a step closer to y/n not caring about the people who were walking past.

"no. it's not my chance to give. if carter wants to meet up with you then i'll get with your mom, but i could care less. to me you're a fucking loser, john." she felt tears begin to fall down her cheeks as she looked the man she loathed in the eyes for the first time since she last saw him after the divorce was finalized ten years ago.

"leave, just leave. this isn't how carter would want to see you for the first time in ten years anyway," john ducked his head and walked toward the parking lot. y/n turned and went back into the arena to where she was sitting.

a few parents asked her if she was okay, those who knew her and carter's story giving her a hug and a pat on the back. she was appreciative of those around her who supported her and her son.

y/n could barely focus on the game that had already started when she sat back down, her perspective and head space too foggy to even comprehend the game unfolding before her. all she could do was think about the worst days of her life replaying over and over in her head. she was replaying the minute she found out about john's affair, when she packed up her and carter's things and went to her parents house for the time being. she was replaying the divorce meetings, the arguments, the tears.

she was replaying having to explain to her five year old son where his dad went and why he wasn't going to be at home anymore. y/n hadn't gone into full detail with sidney about all of this yet. their relationship was just a few months old and she wanted to protect carter as much as she could. y/n knows and trusts that sidney was and is a good man, but she wants carter to tell what he wants to, not tell for him.

but now she will probably have to.

-

she went ahead and sat in sidney's office, she walked down there a few minutes before the last period ended. she knew that carter had a couple of points on the board, but y/n couldn't remember how he got them. her mind was full of remembering the worst years of her life with her ex husband.

she sat in a chair next to his desk, silently staring at the mess of practice plans, rosters, and scheduling papers strung along his desk. he walked in and shut the door behind him with a thud, plopping his game folder down on his desk. he didn't sit down, he stood with his hands in his pockets looking down at her as she remained sitting.

"you okay?" he asked. she could tell that he was tense, she couldn't figure out why though. they had won the game, the boys played well, and he didn't have anything to worry about. why was he so tense?

y/n nodded her head in response.

"i'll uh, make sure that he doesn't come to another game again." sidney sat down in his chair, resting his chin on his hand. there was an awkward tension in the room. sidney didn't know much about her past marriage, she didn't reveal too much to him. but now he had more questions than ever, he wanted to ask but it was clear she wanted nothing but to keep everything bottled at the moment.

"he seemed like a dick, don't know why anyone would want to marry him." sidney muttered, moving a few things around his desk. but y/n heard him loud and clear.

"what did you just say?" she asked, speaking for the first time since he walked into his office. oh no. he registered what he said, he didn't think before he spoke. he just let his thoughts flow freely off his tongue, shoulda held that one in.

"i- i didn't mean it, y/n i-"

"no, you think i don't regret being married to a man like that? one who was a complete horror of a man? who cheated, who left his wife and child? do you think i'm not embarrassed?" y/n felt tears brim her eyes and she stood up in front of him.

"y/n you know that's not what i meant," he stood up with her and walked around the desk. he put his hands on her shoulders but she slapped them away walking toward the door. she quickly opened it and headed toward the stairs. he thought about running after her but he didn't want to cause a scene. walking back into his office and closing the door he took a spare hockey stick that sat in the corner of the small space and smashed it as hard as he could against the wall, solving his anger in just that moment.

he fucked up.

-

sidney saw a text from carter which had him gathering his keys and putting shoes on his feet.

hey mom hasn't stopped crying since we got home, you know something i don't?

sidney picked up a to-go order on the way to her house, he knew that she wouldn't have eaten anything since leaving the arena. when sidney walked into her house he saw carter sitting at the dinner table eating a bowl of soup watching youtube videos on his laptop. "everything okay?" sidney asked, dumb question.

"i don't know, when i got in the car she was crying. i asked what was wrong and she just shook her head, i thought you guys broke up or something. did you?" carter asked, pausing the video.

"no, we didn't. it's not my place to tell you what happened, but i'll go talk to her." sidney patted carter on the back and walked toward the back master bedroom. he softly knocked on the door, he tried turning the doorknob but she had it locked. "y/n?" he softly asked, knocking again.

he heard sniffles and light footsteps across the wooden door. she unlocked the door and opened it. his heart softened at the sight, her eyes were puffy and her lips were chapped, she wore soft clothes.

walking back to her bed she got in it, pulling the covers over her legs. sidney sat at the foot of her bed and handed the greasy paper sack to her, his form of an apology in that moment. she took the bag and looked inside, a little grin coming on her lips as she saw the bag was full of fries.

she ate the fries in silence, her brain is dull and her head is hurting from crying for two hours straight. sidney sat on the bed with his hand on her leg, just hoping she feels comforted by his presence. he thinks she is, since she didn't take the bag of fries and kick him out.

she sat up, setting the now empty bag on her bedside table, leaned forward to take his hand in hers. sidney scooted closer to her on the bed when she folded her legs. then she gave him a kiss on the cheek, accepting his apology that came in the form of fries.

"i'm sorry for what i said y/n," he whispered again, pressing his forehead against hers. "it slipped out, i shouldn't have said it, i didn't even mean it i-"

"shh, you're forgiven sidney." y/n placed both hands on either side of his face, keeping her forehead against his. she sniffled and sidney parted for a moment, pressing his lips against her soft skin, taking both of her hands in his.

"you don't have to tell me anything about your marriage right now, but i promise, you say the word and i will make sure that he never steps foot anywhere near you or carter again." he tucked some hair behind her ears and kissed the top of her hands.

y/n shook her head, "you don't have to do that." she scooted back toward the pillows that leaned against the headboard, sidney moved on the bed to sit next to her. he put his arm around her shoulders, kissing the top of her head while she laced her fingers with his.

she told him everything that happened in her marriage; she told him about the way john would speak to her in such degrading ways, how john never really made efforts to go to carters special events, how he would make excuses and say things he's in preschool how special could it be? she explained how she found out about john's affair and the messy divorce. right after the divorce john left the state and she never heard from him until five years later. y/n explained how john's mom still keeps in contact with herself and carter, and that she sends john letters and cards with pictures of carter.

sidney felt himself boiling with anger inside, how could someone be that bad of a person? why would anyone want to do such a thing?

"this was the first time in...years that i had seen him in person and it just brought back, everything." tears began to flow through once more and sidney wrapped both arms around her and pulled her in as close as she could. "i don't know what i'd do without you."

[slashthrashandcrash]

Susie is Ghostface's favorite Legion member, but who is his least (and why is it Frank LOL)?

YOU KNOW WHAT ACTUALLY my hot take is that Julie is his least favorite and here's why:

Susie is obviously his favorite for the sole reason that she's the easiest to manipulate into doing what he wants with little to no backtalk and generally respects him as a trusted adult. Frank, while an absolute pain in his ass, is still an attention starved trauma-king that will do anything for praise as long as Danny throws a few 'atta boy's his way. Joey is impulsive and goes along with the crowd, it doesn't take Danny much convincing to get him in on something, especially if the other brats egg him on as well.

Overall those three are extremely easy to manipulate into doing what he wants for one common denominator: daddy issues. Frank? Foster kid since 6yo bouncing between abusive homes. Susie? Neglectful parents at best and a physically abusive dad at worst. Joey? We don't know when or why his dad left, but all he has now is his mom after his brothers went down a bad path, he's lacking a strong male presence at home. All three of them crave the praise/validation of an older mentor, doubly so if it can come in the form of a father figure they severely lack. Someone they can look up to and imitate and maybe make proud, even if they'd never outwardly admit it (Frank).

But Julie? Julie doesn't need anything from Danny. Yeah, sure, she thinks he's pretty fucking cool for being Ghostface, the notoriety around him, but it's more of liking him as a groupie for a band than anything. She had good, loving parents in her life, she doesn't need to seek out any kind of affection because she was never starved of it. Even when it comes to attention, she has Frank and Susie wrapped around her finger, Danny can't even try to play into some sort of teenage girl crush.

It's much harder to make her listen if it's something she doesn't want to do. She likes to push his buttons and there's not much he can say/do to make her knock it off. She likes to fight back because she can and because she likes seeing him get grey hairs, knowing he'd have to offer up something really freaking good to make anything worth her time. He's not a mentor to her, he's her equal in her eyes, so don't go around trying to treat her like she's in the junior leagues.

All of which to say he doesn't hate her or anything, she's just his most difficult to control. The probability of Julie doing what he asks is 50/50 depending on her mood and if the others are already involved. They're definitely more on the level of "friends" than "not-dad".

[beforewedriftawayy]

Dhaka took a part of you that you’ll never get back. Home doesn’t feel the same—especially not with Bucky back in your orbit, and Thor closer than ever. Healing was never going to be easy. Not when loyalty, love, and pain pull you in opposite directions.

~ Sebastian Stan as Bucky Barnes ~ "I wasn't myself when I lost her, but I am now-and it might be too late."

~ Chris Hemsworth as Thor Odinson ~ "I swore to protect her. I never knew I'd have to protect myself from losing her."

~ You as Jadeyn Rainn (OC) ~ "It wasn't the mission that broke me. It was what I came home to."

18+ (MDNI) Previous Part / Next Part

~home~ (part 3)

7:14 a.m. — Avengers Compound, East Wing

The soft light of morning filtered in through the curtains. Your body stirred first, mind still blank and floating in that in-between place. You shifted under the covers and felt warmth behind you — Thor, still asleep. It was the first time in months you’d woken up without adrenaline rushing through your veins. No chains. No alarms. Just quiet.

Careful not to wake him, you slipped out of bed to the bathroom. You rinsed your face and stared at your reflection. Tired eyes, and the faintest shimmer of calm. Recognition, maybe. You turned on the shower.

Back in the bedroom, Thor lay still, one arm draped loosely over his stomach, the other still immobile in its sling. His breath was slow, even. His jaw slackened in peace. The best sleep he’d had in what felt like forever.

Then — a knock.

It was light. Hesitant.

Thor’s brow furrowed. He blinked slowly, remembering where he was.

Not his room.

He didn’t move, didn’t call out. It wasn’t his place. The knock came again, followed by the soft creak of the door opening just a crack.

Tony Stark.

He blinked, confused. Checked the number on the door. Blinked again. Frowning.

“…This ain’t your room, Point Break,” Tony muttered, voice half amusement, half genuine surprise.

Tony opened the door a little more, hands raised in mock defense. “Hey, no judgment. Just didn’t realize you two were on this level of post-mission bonding. Thought I’d walked into the wrong timeline for a sec.”

He paused, scanning the room, the rumpled sheets. “Huh. Guess I’m late to the gossip party.”

Thor sat up, the comforter falling to his waist. “It’s nothing like that Stark, just a- difficult night.” He admitted.

Tony nodded, some of the humor fading. He understood more than he let on. “Yeah. I get that.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, Happy wants to see you both after breakfast. Routine check-in. Wellness, not interrogation.”

“Understood.”

Tony lingered for another beat, still processing what he’d just walked into, then gave a short nod and let the door close behind him.

A few minutes later, you emerged from the bathroom, hair wet and fresh clothes. Thor relayed the interaction, tone dry.

You groaned. "Great. Rumors in thirty seconds."

Thor smirked. "I told him it was nothing."

You shook your head, half-laughing. "Better hope Sam doesn’t find out."

Right on cue, when Thor left your room, Sam was already in the hallway—coffee in one hand, protein bar in the other. He slowed at the sight, clocking Thor's exit. He didn’t say a word.

But the slow, knowing eyebrow raise said everything.

Thor offered a polite nod.

Sam nodded back. “Wednesday’s about to be wild.” he muttered under his breath. —---

8:06 a.m. — Kitchen, Main Floor.

The smell of bacon and coffee welcomed you like a hug. Natasha sat at the island, sipping tea with surgical precision. Steve stood near the stove, flipping bacon like it was a mission briefing.

You grabbed a plate, slid onto the stool between them.

“Morning,” Nat said softly. She didn’t ask anything. Just placed an extra piece of toast on your plate.

Steve gave you a smile. “Sleep okay?”

You nodded. “Best in a while.”

They didn’t push. Didn’t pry. Just ate with you, offering normalcy without demand. That’s what made it feel like home again.

You finished up and made your way to the elevator.

—----

8:29 a.m. — Outside Happy’s Office

Thor was already waiting. Dressed, alert, but clearly still carrying the night on his shoulders. His shoulders broad, clothes hung looser than usual. You fell into step beside him, and he glanced down.

“Together?” he asked quietly.

You nodded. “Together.”

Happy met you at the door with a clipboard, glasses perched on his nose. He glanced between you both.

“I can do these separate if you prefer.”

Thor spoke first. “No need.”

The office was quiet, warm. Not clinical. The kind of space made for truth, not interrogation.

He flipped through a few charts. “Your med reports came back clean, considering the circumstances. Some injuries will need monitoring, especially your shoulder Odinson. I’ll flag med to check in again Thursday.”

You both nodded.

“Pain levels manageable?”

“Manageable,” you echoed, though your ribs still ached.

“How about medications? Your previous prescriptions?” He asked.

Thor’s voice cut in. “I’ll need refills. On everything.”

Happy looked up.

You glanced at Thor. Knowing how much he was struggling before you even went to Dhaka. He’d lost everything. He relied on those medications more than anyone had realized. He was your best friend, you always knew when he was struggling. And when everything went down with Bucky. You two taking the mission together was more than fighting for the team. It was fighting for distraction. A suicide mission that you were both more than willing to risk your lives for. As long as you were going together. 

Happy scribbled a note. “How’d you manage without your medication?”

Thor turned his head toward you. A small, weary smile played at his lips, as he pointed to you.

“This little one. That’s how I managed.”

You blinked. The weight of those words landed hard and fast.

Happy paused, glancing between you. “Alright. I’ll have the med team fill that prescription today.”

He walked you through more routine paperwork, logging your clearances, assigning mandatory therapy sessions starting next week. Offered a listening ear. His door. His promise.

“No pressure. But I’m here. If either of you ever need to talk. Text me, call me.”

You both thanked him, rising from your chairs, heading towards his door. “Jadeyn.” He announced before you left. Thor carried on walking and left the room, respecting the space. You looked back at Happy. “Speak to Tony.” He asked. Remembering you’d promised to chat with him this morning anyway. “I will.” “Let him explain. Trust him. Give yourself the breathing space, the thinking time you need after. Then please-.” His tone changed. Sounded desperate. “- please be easy on Barnes. Let him talk.”

There it was. That father-voice that got through to you.

And if he’s saying it. You knew you needed to go easy on him, no matter how much anger, hurt and fear was coursing through your body when you saw him last night when you reunited with everyone. You stood silent. “Jadeyn.” You nodded. Jaw clenching slightly.

“I know.” He knew you all too well. Knew that you always found arguing easier than understanding.

He smiled. Knowing you needed to hear it. “I’ll see you later, Happy. And thank you.”

You stepped out the door. Thor hovering a few doors down. “All okay?” He called. “Y-yeah, let’s go.”

The silence between you was soft. Steady. Walking back to the elevator together.

—--

9:10 a.m. — Workspace 3, Level 4, Avengers Compound.

You and Thor parted ways. Tony’s music was already blasting. “Miss Rainn! You free for our chat now?” He asked. "Depends. You keeping the fact that you saw Thor in my bed this morning a secret? Or are we already too late for that?" You joked. Taking a seat on the desk next to him.

Tony gave a dramatic scoff. “Oh, please. I processed that two coffees ago. I'm emotionally mature now.” You couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m serious,” he said, stepping up beside you, handing you a fresh cup of coffee he’d snagged from the machine. “Didn’t want the whole hallway gossiping before I got the facts straight. I know nothing happened. Not like that.”

You took the cup with a grateful nod.

You nodded. "I know what it looked like."

"And I know it wasn’t. If it was Sam, though…" He grinned.

"I’d never hear the end of it."

"Thor couldn’t sleep unless he knew you were okay?"

"Yeah." You blinked. Surprised. Tony wheeled his chair a little closer. The teasing faded.

—-

Jadeyn Rainn.

No longer the quiet, razor-sharp tactician who used to argue with him over interface latency and neural load percentages. No. This version of her walked slower. Spoke softer. Carried herself like someone made of thin glass.

But it wasn’t the way she moved that got him. It was her face.

He wheeled his chair slightly closer, rolling gently across the floor as she reached for the coffee. His eyes went to it — the scar.

Top of her right eyebrow, slicing downward through her eyelid, fading just under the eye. A surgical mark, precision sharp. And angry.

No one had said anything. Not out loud. But it was the first thing everyone noticed when she and Thor walked into that room yesterday.

Tony let his gaze linger on it for the first time. Really looked. He imagined what had to happen in Dhaka to leave a scar like that. The kind of pain. The kind of restraint it must’ve taken to survive it. He swallowed hard. There was nothing clever to say. So he didn’t.

He sipped his coffee, pausing. Thinking of how to start the conversation.

—-

You saved him from the struggle. 

“I’m all ears.”

He smiled. You knew him too well. His tone changed. He didn’t look at you when he said Bucky’s name, kept his eyes ahead, voice level.

“I know this is soon, you just got back, and I didn’t want to bombard you with this but it’s better hearing it sooner rather than later, before you are faced with him in training, debriefs, missions.”

“After what happened, I know you left for that mission straight after.” Tony started slowly, “Bucky lost it. Not like dramatic-shouting-and-punching-walls lost it. I mean he just… vanished.”

You frowned. “Vanished?”

“He was gone for almost two weeks. Just left. No comms, no tracker. Steve and Sam found him eventually — holed up in some half-collapsed cabin in Minnesota, of all places. Didn’t want to be found.”

You swallowed hard.

“What was he doing?”

Tony’s expression darkened. “Breaking down. He’d completely lost it. From what Steve told me, Bucky kept asking what the point was. Said you were the one person who never looked at him like a monster. And now… you were gone. Because of him. The last time he saw you, you were looking at him like he was a monster.”

Your grip on the coffee cup tightened.

“I didn’t know.”

Tony nodded. “None of us really did until they brought him back. Steve said he looked empty. Like he’d made peace with not being here anymore-” He swallowed.

You blinked quickly, heart thudding hard behind your ribs.

“After that, we got him help. Not just talking — real help. Shuri flew in from Wakanda, stayed for a while. Worked with him. Rebuilt neural pathways. Undid whatever Hydra left behind. It was brutal but she wasn’t letting that code live another day.”

You stared at the floor.

“Whatever happened to him on that mission — when he turned — it won’t happen again,” Tony said firmly. “I made damn sure of it. We ran tests, trigger word scenarios. Monitored every spike in brain activity. The compound signed off on him being himself again. And I wouldn’t have let him back under this roof if I wasn’t sure.”

You looked up, eyes burning. “Why are you telling me this?”

Tony’s face softened. “Because I know you. And I know you’ll be walking around here looking over your shoulder. You’ve been through hell. And you’ve got every right to keep your distance.”

He took a breath. “But shutting him out completely? It’s going to make this harder — for both of you.”

You were quiet, mind spinning.

“You’re strong. You survived things I can’t even picture. But you’re also human. And part of being human is understanding that… pain isn’t a competition. What happened to you — it hurt. But it hurt Bucky too.”

You shook your head. “He became the thing that hurt me.”

“No. Hydra made him that thing. Just like they did before,” Tony said softly. “And the second he came back, he didn’t defend it. He didn’t hide from it. He hated himself more than you could ever hate him.” He hated himself more than you could ever hate him.

Your breath hitched.

“He’s spent the last seven months fighting every piece of himself. Not to prove something to us. Not even to prove something to Steve. Just… in case you came back. In case there was a chance you’d ever look at him again without fear.”

You blinked back tears, eyes fixed on your coffee cup.

“I didn’t think about what he went through. When the Winter Soldier faded and it was just… him again.” You said softly.

Tony gave a faint smile. “None of us did, at first. He came back into himself in the middle of a nightmare — and had to live with what he’d done while he wasn’t even in control.”

Your voice was barely above a whisper. “And he still stayed.”

“Because it mattered. Because you mattered.”

You exhaled shakily.

Tony bumped your shoulder lightly. “Look, I’m not saying you need to forgive him. Or be friends. Or even talk to him today. But I am saying… you should talk to him eventually.”

You looked over.

“If I can trust him,” Tony said quietly, “then I think you can too.”

What Bucky did to you. He did to Tony just as bad. It was the pair of you that were caught in those trigger words.  You sat there in silence for a while, letting it all settle. He didn’t push you. Just let the air stay heavy until it started to feel manageable. And in that stillness, something shifted in you.

The rage didn’t disappear. The trauma didn’t dissolve. But something else began to grow — something fragile, tentative.

Understanding. Empathy.

Maybe even the beginning of healing.

You nodded slowly. “Okay.”

Tony gave you a small, proud smile. “Good. Now drink your coffee before I start crying and ruin my brand.”

You huffed out a quiet laugh, and the two of you sat side by side for a few more minutes — two survivors, trying to rebuild a bridge no one else could see.

—----------------

Previous Part / Next Part Wattpad

[the-fiction-witch]

Little Sister

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack

Rating Sweet

Requested Y/N is a 20 year old young woman, who moves to her brother from London, because her mom died because of a tumour in her stomach. Her brother's best friend is Jack and she's going to fall in love with him, when she meets with him for the first time. Y/N's health is not the best. 

I hummed my little tune as I worked in the kitchen, I was still so new to the house so I felt like baking some nice cookies, as they always helped me feel better. This house and I were still strangers as I only moved down here a week or so ago, to come and live with my brother Samus, he moved down here for business a year or so ago just before my mother got so sick. I tried to force the thoughts of mother and her quick and sharp sickness away and focus merely on my cookies. It was nice to be here with family again even if I did still feel so lonesome sometimes which Samus working so much. 

I stopped a moment and did my best to keep myself level without falling over, 

"Where's the whiskey y/n?" Samus asked as he came through into the kitchen,

"Cabinet," I told him gasping a little, 

"You okay?" He asked checking on me,

"Fine." I forced myself to steady and get on with my baking, 

"Alright so long as you're okay," he said as he fetched the whiskey, 

"What's the occasion?" I asked, 

"Ohh Freind of mine's coming over."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, we play cards together, works at the hospital, he's a nice guy," he explained, 

"Could uhh.. could I meet him?"

"Why?"

"I just... I haven't really met anyone here yet." 

"Yeah alright, you should start meeting people around here I guess."

"He a local?"

"No, uhhh London I think... Maybe you ask him." 

"He's your friend why do you not know?"

He sighed, "Men don't ask each other this kind of thing Y/n." 

"Alright," I rolled my eyes, 

The door knocked so he kissed my head, "Bring the first batch when they're done, Please."

"Course," 

He then headed off to fetch the door with his whiskey, I didn't want to intrude but as soon as the cookies were done I loaded the best onto a plate and headed to the living room, I fixed my dress and hair a little before I headed inside,

"As requested Samus," I smiled bringing the cookies to the table,

"Ahhh yes! you're an angel!" He smiled immediately grabbing one from his seat on the sofa,

I set the plate on the table and stood up adjusting myself again as I saw the man. 

He was... devilishly handsome. 

He stood in our living room, in worn brown shoes, a pair of brown trousers high on his waist, a white shirt with tattered and stained sleeves, a blue waistcoat and a matching blue tie, a youthful well-sculpted face and this fluffy head of dirty blonde hair. 

My goodness, he was handsome! 

I almost felt like swooning over him if not for my brother in the room. 

He turned as he sat his jacket over the chair and was pushing up his sleeves to his elbows he caught my eye and seemed surprised but also intrigued. "Who are you?" he asked with a smirk to his voice and a sly smile across his lips, 

I couldn't answer so I glanced to Samus, who looked between us and it clicked, "Ohh right introductions." He nodded, "Jack, Y/n." He said, "Y/n, Jack." 

Thanks, Samus that's helpful, 

"Doctor Jack Dawkins," He smiled offering his hand,

"Y/n Y/l/n," I smiled taking his hand and letting him give my hand a gentlemanly kiss,

"Y/l/n?" he chuckled, "Ohh now now, there's no way Samus bagged himself a girl as pretty as you."

"she's my sister," Samus interjected, 

"Ohh, that certainly explains it." He nodded, "Miss Y/l/n I take it then?"

"Yes," I nodded with a little blush,

"I must admit it's a little hard to believe a young lady as beautiful as you could be a Miss so long."

"Jack." Samus glared, 

"what?"

"Down boy. she's my sister."

"I'm merely asking." He winked at me before he took a seat in the chair, I tried to go and sit on the sofa so I could be close to him but Samus immediately grabbed me by the bustle and moved me to the other chair across from Jack, so Samus could sit on the sofa between us. 

The boys began their conversation so I smiled and listened politely for a while, 

"Umm these's are fantastic." Jack commented having had a cookie, "These your doing?" He asked me,

"That they are, our mother's recipe. English toffee cookies." I smiled,

"She bakes too." He smirked, "This is getting more and more unbelievable." He said, "There lovely Y/n."

"Thank you Doctor Dawkins," I blushed,

"Just Jack it's alright we're in your house."

"Alright Jack," I blushed, 

"Why has it taken me so long to meet you?" He jokingly smiled leaning his elbow on the arm of the chair and his hand on his chin, 

"I only just moved down here."

"Ohh? How long have you been here?"

"Just a week or so,"

"Aww still brand new." He smiled, "You must let me show you around someday."

"I'd like that very much,"

"Of course, it would be my pleasure." He smirked, 

"How long have you been here Jack?"

"Ohh a few years now, London originally." 

"As were we."

"Aww That's sweet,"

"What brought you here may I ask?"

"I fell into it I suppose, spent ten years in the navy." 

"Ohh that's impressive."

"As a surgeon's lieutenant," Samus added,

"Yes, I was. spent ten years travelling around and I found here to be the most peaceful place to settle down after everything."

"I can see why," I nodded, "You work in the hospital then?"

"Yes, at the Port Victory Royal Hospital,"

"Oh my, that's very impressive Jack."

"It's the only hospital," Samus added,

"Well yes, you uuh you two moved down here then?" 

"Yes, Samus moved here for business I remained to care for our mother."

"Ohhh aren't you a sweet little thing." He smiled, "But your here now?"

"Yes, she uhh she passed away a few months ago." 

"Oh. Forgive me I didn't know."

"It's alright," 

"I am very sorry for your loss, both of you." he said, "You are a very kind little thing to take care of your mother."

"Thank you, Jack,"

"Perhaps you should come down to the hospital some day, maybe your sweetness could rub off on the nurses." he said and I couldn't help but blush, "and of course I'd love you to visit." 

"Perhaps I will." I smiled, 

"so anyway!" Samus interrupted clearly annoyed at us so he and Jack continued their conversations and I sat politely even if many times Jack and I met eyes across the room. I had to blush most of the times, unable to stop myself looking at him.

I rather think I may be in love. 

I stood doing some work on this damn ambergis Fagin had us pick up, trying to get this new stuff to match it, it was hard, and long and boring, but I kept getting distracted. My mind kept wandering to thoughts of y/n. I had been like this since I met her, unable to get that sweet little thing out of my mind.

"Jack..." Samus spoke up, as he had popped in to help out with stuff as he often did, and I admit I had kinda well... "Jack, why are you staring at me?"

"Nothing..." I shrug unable to stop looking,

"Why are you looking at me like that?" He glared,

"No reason..."

"Are you?"

"What?"

"Ohh hell no-"

"What!"

"Oh my god, are you looking at me and thinking about my sister!"

For a moment I was unsure how to answer him I mean... he's not wrong, that's kinda exactly what I've been doing, 

"...Kinda" I gulped, 

"You're kidding!"

"No."

"You are a gross little man."

"What! I'm not doing anything I'm just looking at you.

"Yeah! Looking at me and Imaging my damn little sister!"

 "it's clearly genetic you look similar... enough."

"Stop!" 

"what it's a genetic trait you both have fantastic legs... and I don't get to see her's that much in those big petticoat dresses... ummm" I smirked looking at him a little imaging Y/n's cute little legs, 

"Jack! cut it out!"

"Samus. Relax."

"No, I won't. Cut. It. Out." He warned as we got back to work, 

"You know I like your sister don't you?"

"I'm well aware." He rolled his eyes,

"You think she-"

"Yes, she likes you."

"S-she does?"

"Yeah. She hasn't bloody shut up about you." He sighed, "And you can't shut up about her,"

"Awww, she's so sweet."

"Yeah, she is. leave her alone."

"What is your problem?!"

"My problem! You're the one perving on my little sister!"

"I'm not perving on her!" I complained, "I've been nothing but a gentleman."

"Yeah only because I'm in the room with you" He said, "You don't wanna admit if I left you two alone you'd try something with her?"

"...I'd certainly see if she-"

"See!" He yelled, "That's exactly why I won't let you be alone with her."

"Don't you trust me?"

"No!"

"Why not I'm your best friend?!"

"Exactly! I've been down the cat and bagpipes with you I know exactly what you would do to her if I left you alone with her," He said, "Jack. She's my little sister. Back. Off." 

"She's an adult Samus. You back off." 

"Jack. it's not happening. get that thought in your skull."

"Ohh come on, you know I'd make a good brother-in-law." I teased,

"Like hell, you would!"

"what the hell is wrong with you! I've been nothing upstanding with y/n, and don't you think my intentions kinda have to be good because I know you're gonna be watching us, and looking after her, You think I'd risk our friendship over just trying to screw your sister." 

"I don't care about your intentions your not getting near her!"

"Why not!"

"Becuase she's sick!"

I froze up, "What?"

"she's sick. she's sick. She's always been sick..." he muttered his anger fading, 

"Samus... what do you mean sick?"

"Look I don't know exactly what it is... but she's always been like this, she get dizzy, loses her balance, faints, she barely keeps food down she just.. she's always been like this, always been sick. Our mother used to care for her but,"

"What did your mother die of Samus?"

"Tumor. Found it in her stomach."

"Had your mother been sick like Y/n before she died?"

"Yeah, her whole life," He nodded, "Just like Y/n." he said, "The last thing I want is her to be mistreated in whatever little time she has. Or your little medical experiment. Just drop it Jack."

"what if I could fix her?"

"You can't-"

"Will you let me examine her at least!"

"No!"

"Samus! Please... I really do care about y/n." I admit, "If you let me examine her, I might be able to help her."

"...that's a pretty big might." 

"I know..." I told him, "But do you really wanna sit and do nothing."

"I take it you'd want something in return if you do help her?"

"...If I can help her. Would you let me marry her?" 

He stood fighting his anger and his sadness before he spoke up, "If. and only If. You can fix her." 

"And if I can't? if there's nothing I can do for her?"

"Then it's not happening."

"Samus, if I can't help her, don't you want the time she has left to be happy? for her to get married, to feel the sweet embrace of someone who loves her?"

"You can't expect me to just give you my sister. If you can't fix her. You can't have her. That's the deal Jack." He snapped grabbing his jacket, "I need to get back to her. I see you near her before I say you can examine her... we're gonna have big problems."

"I know..." I nodded, "Tell- Tell her would you?"

"Tell her what?"

"I think you know what I want you to tell her."

"You can tell her that yourself. When you fix her. and not before." He snapped before he left, 

[jmagnabo92]

BuckWeek - Belong With Me

@buckweek. Prompt - Where I belong.

The fight with Bobby when he admits to holding Buck back leads Buck temporarily to the 133 until someone sees the errors of his ways.

AO3

***

Things had been different with Buck since he went to another firehouse after finding out that Bobby had stopped him from coming back.  He’d been hurt by what happened, but the brass offered him a chance to transfer without Bobby’s approval because he had been medically cleared and because he was a special hero for saving twenty lives at the tsunami incident while off-duty due to his own health issues. 

Apparently, it’d been one of those things caught by a journalist, who’d done the research to figure out who he was and went to the brass looking for him, and that made the brass want to keep him as a firefighter.

And so, he’d gone along to the 133 with Captain Mehta and it was great.  Well, it was good.

He liked the men and women he worked with just fine.  He didn’t mind that they just ate whenever they wanted and aside from chores, if he wanted to research something (recently, natural disasters) no one teased him about it.   Buck with a book?  Is it opposite day?  Did you lose a bet?  Does it have pictures?

But there’s not as much genuine interests in each other’s lives.  The firefighters talk, but it’s all surface-level.  Maybe it’s because he’s only been here a few weeks, but it seems that way with the whole crew. 

They care about each other, but they’re not close. 

His favorite part of the 118 was how close he was with them… except, well, he felt like he didn’t matter as much to them these days… they had replaced him without a second thought. 

Bobby still came to check in on him some days (especially after their fight – he maintained that it was the right decision, so Buck lied about his ‘new job’), but he rarely saw the rest of them.  Maddie checks on him, but he hasn’t told her about the decision for 133 either because she might tell Chim, who might tell Bobby…

He doesn’t see Eddie or Hen much, if at all.  Hen’s busy trying to get Karen through IVF, and Eddie, well, he doesn’t know.  Maybe he was struggling more with the tsunami happening to Christopher while on Buck’s watch that he let on.  After all, he’d only brought Chris back once he needed a babysitter again.

Either way, the 118 is different to the 133, in a good way. 

Frankly, he just wants Bobby to admit that he’s wrong and invite him back because well… there’s a part of him that knows that he doesn’t belong with the 133, he belongs with the 118 and he misses it. 

Still, after several weeks of managing to avoid running into them at calls, his luck has a run out.  A call needed multiple houses, and the only good thing is that they didn’t have time to hash it out at the scene. 

Of course, he shouldn’t expect that they didn’t notice or wouldn’t question it. 

Especially, Bobby.

So, when he hears a knock on his door not an hour after his – their – shifts end, he’s not surprised to see that it’s Bobby. 

“Come on in,” Buck offers, even though Bobby looks quite upset.  “Coffee?”

“You should be resting after that call, not drinking coffee,” Bobby states, as he moves towards the counter.

“Yeah, but I need to be awake for this conversation.”

Buck moves to the opposite side of the counter and notices Bobby’s slight nod, so he pours the coffee he made anticipating this in two cups.  He doesn’t hesitate to make both cups just how he and Bobby like their coffee and offers him the one made to his liking. 

“Thanks,” Bobby mutters.  He takes a sip and says, “Just right.”

“Yeah, well, I know you right enough.  Even if I’d never expect that you were the one standing in my way,” Buck states.  He’s tired despite the coffee, and he’s not exactly in the mood to beat around the bush.

Bobby coughs.  “That doesn’t excuse you going around me to transfer to another house.”

“I didn’t, actually,” Buck counters.  “The Brass came to me.  Apparently, my rescue of other tsunami victims made them want to make sure that I was still a firefighter because they know that I was medically cleared, and you were holding me back for no reason.”

“I have good reasons,” Bobby counters.

“Yeah, something, something, blood thinners are some sort of concern even though we wear gear and the doctors cleared me.  Did you tell that to the Brass?  Because they clearly didn’t think it was enough.”

Bobby takes a deep breath.  “What I told the Brass was that I didn’t believe you ready based on my gut.  I didn’t want to be worried about you getting hurt and distracting me – uh, the team.”

It sounded like Bobby was standing in his way because he cared.  He cared… about Buck.  More than anyone else. 

He’d be touched if he wasn’t so angry about the situation.

“We get hurt; it’s part of the job… Why would you be any more distracted by me getting hurt than any of the others?”

“Because – you’re… Buck.”

Buck laughs.  “I’m Buck, so you’re okay with taking away my choice to do my job that is my calling.  I’ve had a lot of jobs, Bobby – this is it for me.  I finally feel like I’m finally in a good place – at least career-wise and you think it’s okay to take it away from me because I’m Buck?  Would it be better if I went back to Evan?  I can, if it helps.”

Bobby shakes his head.  “I don’t want to take away your career and you don’t have to go back to Evan.”

“Then, why are you doing this?  Because it’s not the Brass and Mehta thinks I’m more than capable of taking care of myself, so – tell me – what is it?”

Bobby looks down at his cup, obviously uncertain.  Maybe he doesn’t have a real reason for this, and it hurts.

But after a few moments, he takes a deep breath, and he says, “You were hurt because of me.”

“I was hurt because of some asshole kid –”

“No, just listen.”

“Fine.”

Bobby takes a sip and says, “I made that kid angry at me.  He was targeting me not you or the firehouse and you were hurt because of it.  You almost lost your leg, and I watched as you did the almost impossible and got to walk again.  Then, you pushed yourself too much to come back to us, and I was covered in your blood because you were pushing yourself and you weren’t telling me!   I couldn’t stand the thought of you being hurt again or of you pushing yourself at the firehouse because you didn’t want to be man behind, and you got hurt because that.  I didn’t want to make another call that could hurt you.”

It sounds like Bobby cares about him, but it still doesn’t make it okay and Buck’s not happy.

“It’s the job, Bobby.  I can’t make you forget that that kid was technically targeting you, but you can’t blame yourself for the actions of someone else.”

“I know that…”

“And you can’t walk away from denying me my right to work the job that I am choosing to work just because you can’t stand the thought of seeing me hurt, again,” Buck continues.  “I don’t even get it, why am I so special?  Why wasn’t Chim held back after a rebar went through his head, huh?  We didn’t like seeing him hurt, either.”

Bobby shifts uncomfortably and swallows hard.

“When I came to LA, it was a temporary fresh start.  I could do my penance here for the fire in Minnesota and then, well, I could move on.  Family dinners aside, I never intended to get close to anyone.  I didn’t want to belong here.”

“Obviously that changed,” Buck interjects.  He knows this already, so he’s not sure where Bobby’s going with this.

Bobby nods.  “Because of you.  Because I chose you as my probie just based off your stats at the academy, and I had a feeling about you.  Because you chose to come into my firehouse and my team and say I think I belong here.  Because you broke down my walls with the innocence of a man that just wanted a father-figure to care about him.  Because I couldn’t stop myself from caring about you.  Because you helped me feel like it was okay to ask for help and support.  Because you made the 118 a family – you became my family, Buck.  My kid and I didn’t want it, but you did and I – I couldn’t see another one of my kids get hurt.”

“Physically, you mean,” Buck states because he doesn’t know what else to say. 

“What?” Bobby asks, confused. 

“You can’t stand to see me physically hurt because I’m your kid, to you, but you don’t have a problem hurting me emotionally,” Buck explains.  “I was devastated when I found out what you did, that you didn’t want me back, that you didn’t care what I wanted, that you replaced me like I was nothing –”

“You’re not nothing okay?  You’re everything to me.  You’re my kid, Buck and – and I’m sorry.  Nothing hurts me more than knowing I let you down so much that you went to another house –”

“I had to!  I didn’t want to, it’s not where I belong – I belong at the 118 with you, but you – you wouldn’t let me, so I had to leave.”

It hurts.  This isn’t what they wanted, and they never should’ve ended up here, but it’s where they are. 

Bobby coughs and clears his throat, pushing his empty cup away.  “Right, well, I am sorry, I made a mistake based on my feelings and that’s not okay, but I expect you back at the 118 where you belong for next shift.”

“Wha – what?” Buck stutters. 

“I spoke with Mehta, and the Brass and I told them I was an idiot.  I watched you at the scene, you were much more careful than you usually are, and Mehta says the blood thinners haven’t been an issue for you, so … it’s time for you to come home – if you want to.”

Buck searches his eyes for sincerity and seeing that he means it, he smiles. 

“If you really mean all that, then I’m happy to come home – to where I belong.”

“Good,” Bobby says with a grin.

They both move around the counter in the loft and hug.  A lot of emotions are wrapped up in it, but the biggest one is just relief that things are finally going back to the way they belong. 

They let go, and Bobby smiles.  “We both probably need some rest, but dinner?  At mine and Athena’s place?”

“Sounds great.  I’ll see you then.”

“Later, Buck.”

With that, Bobby leaves and Buck smiles.

Finally going home to where he belongs.

[emma23]

A melancholy melody:

Llewyn Davis x reader

————————————————————————

The clinking of cups, the murmur of voices, and the low hum of folk music were all sounds that blended into the background noise of The Gaslight Café. Y/N sat at a small table near the back, absentmindedly stirring her coffee. She had been coming here for weeks, drawn to the place like a moth to a flame. Not so much for the music, though she enjoyed it, but more for the people. Well, one person in particular: Llewyn Davis.

She sighed, glancing over at the stage. It wasn’t Llewyn up there right now—just some guy singing about trains or rivers or whatever. But her eyes kept drifting to the bar, where Llewyn sat, hunched over a glass of something that didn’t look like coffee. He always looked like that—slouched, brooding, like the weight of the world had settled permanently on his shoulders.

Y/N was used to making bad decisions. Hell, she’d made one earlier that morning when she decided to skip work just to come here. But this? This was bordering on a whole new level of questionable choices. She hadn’t even spoken to him yet. Sure, she’d smiled at him once, and he’d sort of grunted back, but that was the extent of their interactions.

Still, there was something about him, something magnetic. Maybe it was his music. Maybe it was the fact that he always seemed one bad day away from completely unraveling, and that intrigued her in the worst way. Or maybe it was just that he had this face—this ridiculously soulful, sad face—that made her want to… she didn’t know, fix him? Or at least stop him from looking so damn pitiful all the time.

She took a deep breath, deciding today was the day. Today, she would finally talk to him. Maybe invite him for coffee or—

“Hey,” came a voice from across the table. It was Llewyn, his eyebrows furrowed, his eyes a mix of confusion and curiosity. “You staring at me or the drink?”

Y/N’s heart raced. “Uh, both? I mean, mostly you,” she stammered, trying to play it cool. “I’m Y/N.”

He smirked, a hint of warmth breaking through his usual brooding demeanor. “Llewyn. Nice to meet you. I guess?”

“Yeah, nice to meet you too,” she replied, unable to suppress a smile. “So, what’s the drink of choice for someone who looks like they’re one sad song away from a breakdown?”

He chuckled lightly, the sound surprising her. “It’s a sad song kind of day. Just coffee. Helps me feel less… well, sad.”

“Does it work?” she asked, leaning in.

“Sometimes,” he admitted, shrugging. “Sometimes it just makes it worse.”

Y/N bit her lip, sensing a deeper conversation was brewing. “What’s your plan? Keep drowning your sorrows in coffee or try to find something to cheer you up?”

“Honestly? I’ve been trying to figure that out for a while now.” Llewyn leaned back, crossing his arms. “Usually, it ends up being more coffee and less cheer.”

“Well, I’m not sure how much cheer I can bring, but I can definitely help with the coffee,” she offered, feeling bold. “What do you say we grab a cup together?”

His eyes widened for a moment, surprise flickering across his face. “You want to drink coffee with me?”

“Why not? I mean, it’s either that or you go back to brooding alone,” she teased.

He smirked again, a genuine smile breaking through. “Okay, Y/N, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

They moved to the counter, ordering their drinks and settling into a cozy booth. The conversation flowed more easily than Y/N had anticipated. They exchanged stories, each one peppered with laughter and teasing jabs that made Llewyn’s usual melancholy seem more like a playful mask than a permanent state.

“So, what’s the deal with your music?” Y/N asked, genuinely curious. “Why do you look so miserable when you’re so talented?”

“Guess I’m just not cut out for success,” he replied, taking a sip of his coffee. “Every time I think I’m getting somewhere, it all falls apart.”

Y/N leaned closer, intrigued. “Maybe you just need the right person in your corner?”

Llewyn raised an eyebrow. “Like you?”

“Why not? I could be your cheerleader,” she joked, waving her arms like a high school mascot.

“I don’t think I need pom-poms,” he replied, laughter dancing in his eyes.

As the conversation continued, Y/N found herself lost in the layers of Llewyn’s personality—the brooding artist, the sarcastic wit, and even the vulnerability that peeked through every now and then. She felt a strange connection forming, something deeper than just a shared cup of coffee.

Then, Llewyn’s gaze shifted, and for a moment, he looked incredibly pathetic—eyes wide, brow furrowed, and full of need. It tugged at her heartstrings. “You know, sometimes I feel like I’m just… spinning in circles,” he admitted softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Hey, we all have those days,” Y/N said gently. “But you’re not alone, okay?”

He met her gaze, a flicker of hope mingling with the sadness. “You really mean that?”

“Of course,” she said firmly. “I wouldn’t lie about coffee, Llewyn.”

He chuckled, and the tension eased. “Alright, then. If you’re offering, maybe I’ll take you up on it.”

After coffee, they wandered the streets of Greenwich Village, sharing stories and laughter as the sun began to set. Llewyn’s wall started to crumble, revealing a man who, beneath the gruff exterior, was still just a guy trying to make sense of his life.

They ended up back at her place, sitting on her couch, still wrapped in their conversation. Y/N couldn’t ignore the chemistry simmering between them. Llewyn’s gaze lingered on her lips, and she felt a rush of anticipation.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice low. “I’ve been thinking…”

“About what?” she prompted, leaning closer.

“About how we keep talking and laughing, and I don’t want it to stop,” he confessed, his voice trailing off as he looked into her eyes.

Y/N’s heart raced. “Neither do I.”

Llewyn hesitated, then took a leap of faith, closing the distance between them. Their lips met softly at first, a gentle exploration that quickly deepened. Y/N felt herself melt against him as his hands tangled in her hair, pulling her closer.

As their kiss intensified, Llewyn’s hands roamed over her back, igniting a fire within her. She lost herself in the moment, feeling every ounce of tension fade away.

“Wow,” Llewyn breathed, pulling back slightly, his eyes searching hers. “That was… something.”

“Something good?” Y/N asked, a teasing smile on her lips.

“Definitely good,” he replied, his tone laced with sincerity.

They kissed again, the world around them fading into nothingness. Y/N felt like she was floating, caught in a bubble of laughter, music, and connection.

After a while, they broke apart, both panting slightly. Llewyn leaned back against the couch, running a hand through his hair. “I think I could get used to this.”

Y/N grinned. “Just think of me as your unofficial life coach.”

He chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “What’s your first piece of advice, then?”

“Stop being so pathetic,” she said, leaning in and pecking his cheek. “I can’t have my favorite musician looking like that. It’s bad for my reputation.”

Llewyn laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah, because I’m all about reputations.”

“Hey, it’s a start,” she replied, winking. “Next step? We get you a record deal.”

“And a proper coffee maker,” Llewyn added, grinning.

“Deal,” she said, laughter filling the room.

As the night wore on, Y/N knew this was just the beginning of something beautiful. She could be the light in Llewyn’s life, and maybe—just maybe—he could teach her how to embrace the beautiful chaos that was life.

[arianatwycross]

The Process of Wanting

Using @jilymicrofics prompt: camp

@jilymicro-oops

Chapter 10

“We could just camp out in your room until they’re gone?” James says in between kisses.  Lily laughs underneath him.  “We can’t stay here all night.” She breathes heavily, her head tilting back as his lips press firmly against her jaw.

Continue reading below or on A03

James ponders that idea. To stay all night with Lily, pressed up against her, lips always finding purchase somewhere on her body. It’s tempting, and the fact that his heart thrums for it so steadily means that James is ready for that step - a step he’d never felt like he would ever reach. 

Lily laughs again. He finds her amused eyes scanning his face. “That wasn’t an offer,” she teases. 

James tenses, peeling himself off her and sitting himself up against her headboard. 

“I didn’t mean it that way…” Lily rushes to explain, sensing her misstep. 

“No?” James' body seems to have gone into fright mode - the one between flight and fight - the one where he, embarrassingly, just freezes. 

“No, I meant it in a way that means I want to stay here all night but our friends are outside waiting for us to join them - the friends we invited.” 

He grabs his glasses from her nightstand and settles them back on his ears. Now that he can clearly see her, he realises how flushed she seems, the pinkness of her cheeks matching the pink roses of her bedspread. She’s smiling softly, her curious eyes watching him again. 

“Yeah?” he asks nervously. He knows that he can come across too much sometimes - in every other aspect of his life, he’s been told to slow down, think before he acts - so when he’s already overthinking, he seems to fumble more often than not. 

Lily shuffles closer, grabbing his hand and closing it tight under hers. “I wouldn’t mind you spending the night, it would be nice to have some company for once…” She pauses, biting her lip before she continues, “I don’t mean in the - uh physical sense if that’s what you’re worried about. I don’t need that…yet. But I think it would be good to see how I feel with that level of intimacy.” 

James watches the pink blush deepen, spreading over her nose and bleeding into her freckles. 

“Is this too odd?” James asks, surprising himself with his honesty. He waits for Lily to perceive him, to mock or to laugh, maybe even scoff but then he’s reminded that Lily is nothing like the girls that came before her. 

“Maybe. But It seems to be working for me…for us?” She asks, her eyes finding his - an easy gaze. 

“Yeah, I think it’s working.” He admits, squeezing her hand. 

[i-did-not-mean-to]

FOTFICtember - Chapter 5

Kyra goes camping. Bilbo has a hot shower. Everyone eats entirely too much sugar :D

Prompts: cuddling, soft, cinnamon, cold hands, rainstorms, sweet treats

Pairing: Ori x OC, Kíli x Tauriel, Bilbo x Thorin

Words: 1495

Warnings: sexual innuendo

As soon as he was gone, Tauriel stopped at the edge of the bonfire.

The dancing flames filled her rich, red hair with reflections of dying embers, and Kyra was mesmerised enough by the sight not to question the sudden interruption of their plans.

“So, what did we miss?” the elfin beauty then asked, turning back to face Kyra, her bright eyes piercing and her soft mouth curled into a knowing smile. “Did you kiss Ori in the maze?”

“As a matter of fact, I did,” Kyra admitted. “I was made to understand that it was some kind of tradition. Maybe, I’ll have good luck from now on.”

“If you want that, yeah,” Tauriel sighed, playing with a strand of her hair absent-mindedly. “Listen, we don’t know each other as well as you might know my boyfriend and his brother, but I’d like to think that we’ve become friends since you arrived here this year, no?”

“Sure,” Kyra agreed. She couldn’t fathom what the other woman was getting at, and it started to make her nervous. “What’s up?”

“Ori…If I’ve understood the whole matter correctly, he’s had a major crush on you for years, so we decided to give him a little helpful nudge. Nevertheless, we don’t want to pressure you into something you wouldn’t be comfortable with.”

She now looked exceedingly uncomfortable and guilty.

“Do you deem him dangerous? If I were to reject him?” Kyra asked candidly for she trusted Tauriel’s assessment. Since her return to these parts, she’d come to respect and cherish Kíli’s girlfriend as a level-headed, fierce young woman.

Moreover, Kyra was not in a position to callously refuse the offer of an earnest friendship when it came her way.

“Ori? Never,” the other guffawed. “But, spending the night perched up in a tiny tent is another matter entirely than kissing in a maze, and I wanted you to be advised.”

“He’s a darling, isn’t he?” Kyra sighed and dashed forward when she saw that the corner where the cakes and buns were kept was deserted for the moment.

“Oh yes, he absolutely is,” Tauriel agreed as they shovelled as many treats as they could onto chipped plates and melted into the deep, dark shadows of the nearby treeline. “He’s the best, and we all adore him. He’d never hurt you…”

With a wicked smile, she picked a glazed cookie out of the heap and took a nibble. “I also tell you this for another reason. If, and it’s a big ‘if’, you were even the slightest bit interested in dear Ori, you’ll have to go for it. He’s too honourable by far to risk discomfiting you when you’re stuck in the middle of the forest with him.”

“Makes sense,” Kyra mused. Inspired by her friend’s brazen theft, she chose a soft, plump cupcake and took a hearty bite from it. There was more than enough to share, she thought, and the others wouldn’t miss what they’d never seen.

Admiring Tauriel’s fluid, unerring movements, Kyra let herself be led far beyond the warming light of the bonfire into the heart of the woods.

Ahead, a dimmer, more unsteady gleam beckoned to them, and soon they’d reached the makeshift camp of three tents nestled between the massive roots of the surrounding trees.

“Ah, there you are, my love,” Kíli exclaimed and promptly pinched a juicy slice of berry-cake from the plate Tauriel was carrying. “We were about to send out a search and rescue team!”

Rolling her eyes, the tall redhead sank onto the nest of blankets they’d scattered on the floor and sighed contentedly.

For a while, they simply sat in silence, eating cake and enjoying the charming song of the nocturnal forest, but then, the weather turned again, and a slight drizzle started to fall.

“Could turn into a proper rainstorm,” Fíli declared resolutely and went to check every single tent twice. “We better retire for the night. Sleep well!”

Kyra had not even finished her apple cider when she was ushered into the tent along with the almost empty plate and…Ori.

“Do you need anything? Now is the time,” he informed her, squinting at the dark sky suspiciously.

“No, I’m fine. My hands are a bit sticky,” she replied sheepishly and twitched when he took them in his own as if to check.

“Your hands are cold! Let me get you a wet wipe,” he exclaimed and turned around slowly in the cramped space to rummage through his bag until he pulled out his hygiene kit with a sound of triumph. “We didn’t account for such weather, I’m afraid, so there’s no space heater,” he said apologetically.

The whole floor of the tent was littered with soft, fluffy blankets, and Kyra burrowed herself into them eagerly as the staccato of furious rain started to batter the paper-thin walls in earnest.

Meanwhile, Ori’s gaze flitted nervously through their tiny sanctuary as if searching for a corner into which he could simply disappear.

“Come here,” Kyra invited, desperate to feel his warmth again. “I know a trick for dispelling the cold.”

As soon as he’d joined her, laying down on his side to face her, she pulled one of the blankets over them, tucking it in around their bodies to create a bubble of shared body heat.

Tauriel’s words came back to her, and she lifted her gaze to his comely face in hopes of seeing any indication of that secret affection that had been insinuated.

“Do you…Are you warm enough?” Ori asked, worry tingeing his voice.

“In a moment,” she replied, willing her teeth not to chatter too loudly as she inched closer to him little by little.

“I could…” he mumbled, snaking his arm around her and rubbing her back in slow, firm circles. “How’s that?”

“Wonderful,” Kyra admitted truthfully and scooted closer still until she was pressed against his chest, breathing in his clean, wholesome smell greedily.

Nestled in his warmth, she smiled as she felt his lips brush against the crown of her head silently—this was all the encouragement she needed.

Thus, she tilted up her face to catch that furtive, tender kiss and deepen it.

“You taste like cinnamon,” she slurred against his mouth. “I somehow knew you would.”

“’s because I’m a ginger, huh?” he replied in the same muffled voice, unwilling to pull back and end the kiss.

“Brown sugar and cinnamon,” she purred. “Sweet and a bit spicy, yeah, that’s how I imagined you.”

Outside, the world was seemingly ending, but Kyra cared nought.

Her cold legs were intertwined with Ori’s strong thighs and sturdy calves, and she had buried her cold fingers in the fleece of another sweatshirt—he apparently had an endless supply of soft, warm fabrics at his disposal—and she started to wonder what it would feel like to peel these protective layers off him one by one.

She decided to find out anon.

Across the forest, Bilbo was dripping wet and laughing breathlessly as he raced towards his car, Thorin hard on his heels.

“A rainstorm!” Bilbo cried. “And I thought it was all going so well until now!”

“It was a success, don’t fret,” the other reassured him. “And I’m sure that Kyra is doing just fine wherever she is. Probably snuggled up in a warm tent, giggling into Ori’s foolish face!”

“Ah, you’d know about silly visages, wouldn’t you?” Bilbo grinned as he sped down the muddy forest path towards his quaint little cottage. “I’m too cold and wet to stay a moment longer than I must in this car,” he declared and turned up the heat to the maximum.

“So you’ll send me home on foot in this deluge?” Thorin exclaimed, feigning vexation.

“I didn’t say that, you oaf!” Bilbo laughed. “As the kids are all busy doing Yavanna knows what, I invite you to join me for a hot, restorative shower.”

This idea did much to brighten Thorin’s mood, and he even hummed a little tune as they pulled into Bilbo’s driveway.

“Just the shower?” he then asked when they kicked off their sopping wet shoes and shrugged out of their drenched clothes that clung disgustingly to their clammy skin. “Or…”

“I might have squirrelled away a few extra cakes and sweet treats in the pantry,” Bilbo informed him with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “For the day after feast, but…”

“They’ve had quite enough sugar, I dare say!” Thorin declared haughtily, catching the other by the hips and pulling him into a passionate kiss that should have made any remaining moisture turn into steam within a single moment.

“Right you are,” Bilbo moaned. “We can eat them in bed, later. Now, we really need a hot shower. I can’t wait any longer to see you undressed. Come! After all, it’s a night for falling stars and magic.”

“Your wish is my command, dear colleague,” Thorin grinned. “As you know, I’d do anything for the success of the autumn fair.”

↳ Masterlist

@fellowshipofthefics here's the last chapter of my fic for September! Thank you for celebrating autumn with me!

Lots of love from me! <3

[acommonloon]

Black hole sons - egos of men daren’t be eclipsed

My sister invited us to visit her new place in Kentucky on Saturday. Her Lawrenceburg address was an hour and a half drive to “nowhere close.” Even Frankfort was 45 minutes away. As it was their one year anniversary at the new house, it was going to be a big shindig. We felt we had to go.

TD, my sister’s husband (although they never use the term and I don’t think they ever officially married) is a Marine(ret) and a black man so…

We would get to visit with some black people! Yay! lol I spent 21 years in a diverse Air Force with many of those years in North Carolina, Georgia, Mississippi, and Europe so, after our last 22 years in white bread Indiana, I was looking forward to a gathering with some color.

We had a good time but this morning we discussed a thing we both noticed.

We arrived on time so we were early. It’s a military thing. My sister met us at the car as we unloaded lawn chairs, a cooler with beer (I would drink) and a bag with a bottle of bourbon, a gift for TD. I apologized as I handed it to my sister because we didn’t find anything we specifically wanted to gift her. Then I said, “Maybe you like bourbon too?”

“I do like bourbon but TD doesn’t like me drinking it.” She said.

What?

“Yeah, he says I get too mouthy when I drink bourbon.” She chuckled

We walked in silence for a few seconds.

“I do love bourbon though.” She sighed.

This morning, I recalled this to D and she asked, “Did you notice how the black women and the white women married to black men were cheerfully subservient to the men.” She went on, “I was really shocked when Jerry said to his wife, “Hey can I get some ice over here?”

His wife, Anita, responded of course honey and brought it right over.

That was some Mad Men level patriarchy right there.

Before we were given leave to eat, TD turned the prayer into his personal story of deliverance by God, the result being the property he now owned. It was his dream, granted to him because he always put God first. He acknowledged the prior owners who were on hand, recounting how it was his note, left under the humidor entreating the, then unknown, owner to always keep the Marine Corps flag flying that sealed the deal. I felt this conclusion somewhat undermined when he admitted the seller asked the two prior contract offers to perform within 48hours and only when they couldn’t, was his offer accepted. Inshallah. After the conclusion of the prayer, I walked over to the prior owners.

What a wonderful place I enthused, “How could you bear to leave it? I asked.

They smiled and I saw genuine sadness as they said they’d always dreamed to have such a place but couldn’t keep it up. They said they’d bought a smaller place nearby but, what I was seeing here now had always been their dream too.

Perhaps they hadn’t always put God first in their lives or maybe it was just his plan to let them toil for years before letting someone else buy the fruit of their labor.

Minutes later, God’s chosen was back on his soapbox. He introduced his son. His oldest son. He said he’d always hoped one of his sons, but especially this one, would follow him into the Marine Corps. He couldn’t be prouder. Oh and his other son, a football coach, would be here later. Yikes

Then he demanded to know where the cake was. He directed this query to my sister. She said it was in the house. Well get it he smiled. She turned and went.

I watched her walk away from the crowd. No one looked her way. I shouted, “Do you need any help?”

FUCK! I never heard a cross word or impolite remark during the event. It was the type of fellowship I remembered from church dinners during my youth. Everyone emoting delight at the company around them. Sunny smiles all around + alcohol.

Earlier as we were driving down, I’d called my sister to say we would be early if that was okay so we could have a bit of time to visit before the crowds arrived. I joked there’d probably be a hundred people. She said that was accurate with all the people TD had invited. “His problem is he’s too likeable!” I joked.

“You don’t have to live with him.” She responded.

These men love their wives like cherished possessions. They ply them with caring condescension giving all credit to godly provenance and their own wisdom for doing so.

[punkassfrance]

Sierra Nevada - Chapter IV - Ellie/Abby

Chapter IV: Fester (Work length ~1.9k) This work is rated M for canon-typical violence and gore. Please look here for a full list of warnings for the series, specific warnings will be provided at the start of each chapter. This chapter contains: (stable, but) critically injured minor, mentions of blood. Previous Chapter - Full Series - Next Chapter

Abby

Lev tries to turn over a few times as he sleeps through the day— Abby has to jump up to stop him every time, redirect him onto his uninjured side. He mumbles in his sleep, names, pleas, things Abby can’t make out. She can’t focus on any of it. Her comfort is half-hearted, mind wandering far from the room they’re in. It wanders all the way to Salt Lake City. To Jackson. Places she doesn’t care to revisit.

Some part of her regretted all that had happened, after Santa Barbara. Watching a skinny, bloody girl on the beach, sobbing into the water as Abby left her behind— it forced some kind of empathy. Still coughing up water, even then, she knew on some level she’d done something irreversible. Maybe something worse than murder.

Ellie. Miller.

“Abby?” Lev rasps, trying to sit up. She pulls herself up on the bed beside him, taking his hand.

“What do you need?”

He looks around, squinting. “Where are we?” The room they’re in is painted off-white, relatively clean with dark wood floors and a rectangular window by the ceiling. It looks the size of a master bedroom, but she can’t understand why Ellie wouldn’t take it for herself if that was the case. Their supplies sit up against a wall, a few personal affects on the nightstand. She figured he would like some comfort when he woke up, the little she can offer him.

“I think we’re in Truckee. I found someone to help— we’re safe for now.” She helps him sit up and look around the room, keeping a careful eye on his leg. Once he’s up against the headboard, he takes in their surroundings and looks up at Abby.

“Was that…”

Abby nods, swallowing hard and looking down at the bed. “She’s…gonna be helping us for a bit.”

“Who is she?”

Abby hesitates, looking up to meet his eyes. He still hasn’t asked, after everything. After the theater, after the pillars, he never pried. Never asked Abby too much about what came before him. As much as she appreciated not having to explain, he has the right to know by now.

“…her name is Ellie. I’ll explain later, I promise. She kinda… hates me, but she said we can stay for now.” She squeezes his hand. “At least until you’re fixed up.”

“I can— I can go, we don’t have to…” He tries to sit up before Abby keeps him down, hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, you need rest. And we’re really lucky to be able to stay here,” she leans in, conspiratorially. “Look, I know you’re wanting to get back on your feet, but relax for me. Yeah? It’s kinda nice here.” It might be the only angle that could work, convincing him to relax because Abby wants to. He would never take a break without some kind of fight. Even with the few memories she has, he still reminds her of Yara.

He frowns, eyes drifting back to the bed before he concedes and lays down.

“What happened? I don’t remember all of it…” he reaches for his stuffed shark on the night stand, pulling it under the covers to hide with him. He’ll never admit that he’s happy to have it, glad Abby stuffed it in her backpack before leaving for the Seraphite island. “We were at the gas station, right?”

“Yeah, someone…beat us there. Thought they could get the jump on us.”

“They did,” Lev mutters with a small, tight smile.

“They didn’t make it out of the gas station alive. They’re rotting, and you’re still breathing. That’s what matters.”

He’s silent, sheets pulled nearly to his chin. His brow creases as Abby pulls the comforter up to cover his torso. “…I should have heard them.”

“Lev,” she admonishes, wincing. She crouches beside him on the bed, bringing herself closer to his face. “Look, shit like this happens all the time. Everybody has a story like this, you’re not the first person to get caught off guard.” She leans in, squinting. “Did I ever tell you what I did in Everett?”

Lev shakes his head, adjusting as much as he can to look at her. “I don’t think you have.”

Abby smirks, lips pressing together.

-

Ellie

“…and that’s not even the worst part— when I got back, Manny had the flu and was quarantined in our room, so all of my stuff was stuck in there and I had to recover in Nora’s room. I think she was ready to finish the job by the time I could leave.”

The kid snorts on the other side of the cracked door, the sheets shuffling around just enough to hear. It’s the most energy she’s heard from him in the day he’s been here, barely enough to giggle at Abby’s dumb story. Her throat tightens at the mention of Nora, a blood-splattered name she’s tried to forget— one of many.

She knocks on the doorframe, swallowing and holding up bag of supplies. When they look over to her, Abby’s smile falls. “We have to change his bandages.”

Abby nods and starts pulling the blankets back, pushing herself up to sit on the bed by the kid’s feet. “Just tell me what you need.”

“Hold his leg off the bed.” Ellie pulls scissors out of her back pocket, crouching by his bedside as Abby tucks a hand under his knee. They managed to get him into basketball shorts and a clean t-shirt, easy enough to keep out of the way as they sutured him up the day before. She sets the bag down beside her and cuts the bandages along the side of his leg, a few inches away from the wound.

Ellie has minimal medical training- really, none at all. But she’s had nearly a year in this godforsaken cabin with shelves of books, some medical, and she bores too easily to ignore them. Despite her lack of formal training, she still managed to keep Joel alive- there may be hope for this kid after all.

Well. She managed to keep Joel alive for a little while.

Her hands still as she rolls up the old dressings to dispose of, heart heavy. She can’t think about it too hard- if she does, she’ll have blood on her hands all over again. Panicking as she feels her eyes well up, she sets the used bandages aside and picks up the alcohol pads.

“What’s your name, kid?”

It’s a weak distraction, she knows, but if she dwells on the past for another minute—

“Lev.”

Ellie nods as she cleans the sutures, trying to be gentle with the rubbing alcohol. “How old are you?”

Lev shifts a little as she pulls back to grab a clean towel. “Fifteen. I remember you.”

Ellie presses her lips together, but doesn’t stop what she’s doing. “…figured you would.”

Abby squeezes Lev’s shoulder, still holding blankets out of Ellie’s way. She looks down at the sheets, expression blank, wisely keeping her mouth shut.

“Why are you helping us?” Lev asks, frowning. He looks down to get a glimpse of the cut as Ellie wraps him back up, grimacing at the sight.

Ellie doesn’t respond at first, busy fixing the wrap in place. Her throat is tense and painful, the sight of dried blood bringing back unkind memories.

…or I can make it so much worse.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Once the wound is re-wrapped, she stands and gathers her supplies, tucking the old dressings inside the bag to deal with later. She doesn’t spare a glance to Abby, just draws in a slow breath and tightens her grip on the bag. “I’ll do it again in the morning. Get some sleep.”

Lev nods and looks back down to the pillows, exhaling as Abby pulls the blankets back over him. There’s nothing else for him to do right now, after all.

Abby pushes herself off the bed and follows Ellie as she turns to leave, too fast for Ellie to slam the bedroom door in her face.

“Ellie—” Abby starts urgently, but stops to look down and think on what to say. Ellie stares her down, tempted to say don’t call me that. Her name feels too affectionate, too personal, but she has no way to correct her. If her name is short for something else, something less intimate, she’ll never know.

“He’s gonna be fine.”

Abby looks up, leaning against the closed bedroom door. “You’re sure?”

“No.”

Chewing on her lip, Abby crosses her arms and lets her eyes drift to the side. She’s gained some muscle back, it seems. Not quite as intimidating as Ellie’s fragile memory asserts, but the definition in her sinewy arms is notable at the least. Impressive even, as much as Ellie hates to give Abby credit of any kind. She could be useful.

“The snow’s coming soon. Tomorrow I need to clear out the gutters and take care of a branch hanging over the roof that won’t be strong enough for the snow. You’re gonna help.”

Abby just stares down at the floor, head tilted like there’s something fascinating on the ground. She wants to demand Abby’s full attention, snap at her, do something, but Abby nods. “Okay. Do we have what we need?”

“I have a ladder, a handsaw, and rope. That’ll be enough. He should be okay for a couple hours while we work, but crack his window so we can hear if he needs help.” Ellie crosses her arms, glancing at the bedroom door. “…it’s good that he’s talking.”

Abby’s face softens as she looks up to Ellie, tucking her hands in her pockets. “You think?”

“Book says he’s probably not in shock anymore. If we can keep it from getting infected, he’ll be fine.”

“…thank you.”

Ellie reaches up to rub her eyes, pressing her lips together. “You… you’re fucking lucky. Do you get that?” She’s not even sure precisely she means, but she means it. If enough time hadn’t passed, if Lev wasn’t just a kid, if Ellie didn’t have enough to atone for…

“I know— I know. I just…want you to know how much it means. I…” She trails off, shaking her head and looking away. She won’t look Ellie in the eye- it’s alright. Ellie doesn’t want to look at her anyway. All she’ll see is cold blue eyes looking down at her from across the room, blue light through snowed-in windows.

“Whatever. I get it.” Ellie’s not sure she does, but it doesn’t matter. She doesn’t care to figure it out. She turns and walks away before Abby can respond, steadying herself on the railing beside the stairs.

“Wait.”

Ellie pauses, but she doesn’t turn back to look at Abby.

“I… I didn’t know who you were.”

That much is clear. She didn’t know Ellie’s name, but that doesn’t feel like what she’s saying. Abby missed more than a name. “Yeah. Figured.”

There’s silence.

The bedroom door opens, then closes behind her.

-

Abby

Trying not to fall into the growing pit inside her, she hides her face from Lev as she grabs an unused pillow off the bed and collapses to the floor. Lev doesn’t seek her attention, or maybe he’s asleep again— either way, it doesn’t matter. So long as he doesn’t catch her holding the pillow like a lifeline, face buried in the fabric. It smells like dust, but it’s warm.

When she gets the nerve to pull her face out of the pillow and look at her trembling hands, in the darkness, she can almost see splotches of blood.

that tfw face when you've become the monster you sought to destroy, amirite? Hope you're enjoying so far!

Thank you to @plum98 for the forest divider! Feel free to say hi or drop your thoughts in my askbox, check out my AO3 or my about me if you're interested!

Series Taglist: @a-little-bit-of-everybody

[justnerdy15]

iterum sol oritur (daily writing 1.20.24)

prompt: @isabellebissonrouthier The sun hasn't risen in seven years. Why are people terrified that sunrise has finally returned? wc: 2200 (more under the cut) a/n: thanks for the inspo @isabellebissonrouthier! this really tickled my brain into actually writing for once. content warning: cursing, child death (off page)

The hubris of humanity is unmatched. The gall to deny nature its function, to manipulate the stars in the sky, to exert their control over forces that have existed before humans were even specks in the dirt is a level of egotism that has never been seen before and, god willing, will never be seen again.

***

“What do you mean you can’t come today?” a woman demands, clutching her phone with a white-knuckled grip as she paces a pristine kitchen, her voice shrill and hair-raising. “I need this done. Do you understand me?”

A muffled response.

“I don’t care about a list! Or that you’re busy,” she snaps, lip curling to reveal sharp canine teeth. “I’ll pay triple the rate for you to come out now. Fuck, I’ll install it myself if I have to, just give me the fucking supplies.”

A younger woman watches from the couch, glancing between her irate mother and the giant panes of windows that reveal a starless sky, and sighs. It’s embarrassing to watch as her mother argues, anger undercut by the creeping desperation that pricks Eliana’s ears, going back and forth with some kid on the other end.

He probably isn’t being paid enough to deal with the end of the world.

Well, for some at least.

“You know what? Get me your manager. I want to speak with whoever’s in charge,” her mother says. Oh boy.

Eliana rolls her eyes, pushing herself off of the couch, and makes her way upstairs.

She reaches a pale green door, drawings pinned to the wood in layers and layers of printer paper, and knocks.

“Hey, Luke?” Eliana calls out, hand resting on the door knob. “Can I come in?” She leans in, trying to hear something, and tries again. “Luke?”

The light taps of small feet. A sniffle or two. The knob creaks as it turns underneath her still hand.

The door cracks open just enough for wide brown eyes to look up at her, red-rimmed and watery. “What?”

Eliana offers a small smile. “Can I come in? We can draw for a little bit?”

He sniffs, nose snotty and thick, but he nods and lets her in. He clambers back to his bed, comforter and sheets twisted around into a little nest, and fumbles around until he’s comfortable, pulling a drawing board into his lap.

She follows suit, careful to avoid the soft toys scattered around the floor, and perches on the edge of his bed, picking up a sketchbook from the ground. Eliana flips past pages of crudely drawn mouths, sharp and bloody, and glowing eyes in the dark before coming to a blank page. She takes a pencil from his little pile.

“How you doing, bud?” Eliana asks, using the side of the lead to start shading the corner of the paper. Glancing out the corner of her eye, she sees Luke drag a red crayon down his paper in heavy stripes.

He shrugs.

She brings her pencil further down. “You know you can tell me anything right? I —”

“Momma’s gonna die, isn’t she?” Luke asks, not looking up. “When the sun comes back?”

Well, shit. Eliana takes a sharp breath, pressing a bit harder on the pencil, marks darkening with every swipe. She can’t lie. Not to him.

“Maybe,” she admits, looking at her paper. “She doesn’t want to.”

“But why?” A loaded question. Not that he knows that.

She bites at her lip, wincing at the metallic tang, and tries to figure out where she should begin.

“You know how there’s a lot of special adults around us? Adults like mom?” she asks him, watching blonde curls bounce up and down. “Do you know why they’re special?”

“They don’t grow up,” he answers matter-of-factly. “They drink special juice and they don’t grow up.”

Eliana can’t help the face she makes, a begrudging grimace, because he isn’t exactly wrong.

“Yeah,” she says, nearly done with her page. “That’s pretty much it. And what else is special about them?”

He sniffs again, rubbing his sleeve across his nose. “They made the sun go away.” Luke looks at her. “Why?”

Because they’re selfish assholes. “It hurts them,” Eliana answers, meeting his gaze. “And they thought it would be better for everyone if it just went away.”

“How?”

A noise, a weak excuse for a laugh, escapes her. “I don’t know.”

“What was the sun like?”

Eliana looks down at her paper, filled to the brim with dark gray, and thinks of all the pictures Luke has drawn. How there’s never a bright blue sky with a yellow circle and white fluffy clouds. How he’s lived his entire life in the dark.

“It’s warm,” she says, “Even in winter, it’s always a little warmer in the light. And it’s bright. So bright you can see for miles. Sometimes when it hit the windows just right, there would be rainbows on the walls, on the floors. Even the sky was different colors. Pink and purple and orange and blue all mixed together.”

“That doesn’t sound bad,” Luke says.

Eliana chokes out a laugh. “It —” she cuts herself off and scrubs at her eyes “— It was nice.”

Luke looks away from her, returning to his drawing with another crayon. “So, why did momma become special?”

Eliana huffs. Because dad died and she couldn’t cope. Because she was afraid to leave them too. Because she wanted some sense of control of the chaos they spiraled into. Because she was weak and let those fuckers whisper poison in her ear. Because she never thought through the consequences of her actions.

“I don’t know.”

“How many grown ups are special?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why’s the sun coming back?”

“I don’t know, Luke.”

“You don’t know a lot of things, Eli,” her brother says causing her to roll her eyes.

She pokes him in his foot. “Well, excuse me, mister,” she replies, “I don’t think anyone knows.”

When the reports came, of how the endless blackness was lightening, distant stars once again puncturing empty skies, it sent the world into chaos.

How could this be happening? Why is it happening? They had promised never-ending night, never-ending life for those who accepted the Bargain, in return for servitude.

And hadn’t the people kept their end of the deal? Supplied them, worshiped them, feared them? Why have they turned their back on their chosen devotees?

Eliana remembers catching her mother later that night crying — or, well, trying to — begging to empty air that she would be saved. Now, instead of bartering with would-be gods, she’s wasting hours arguing over useless solutions in one last desperate attempt to delay the inevitable.

“What’s going to happen to us?” Luke asks.

She purses her lips together, a sudden burning in her eyes, and swallows against the knot in her throat. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, Luke.”

Her phone vibrates in her back pocket. She doesn’t bother to look at the screen. “Hey, I’ll be back in a second, bud,” Eliana says, clearing her throat as she gets up from the bed. “Won’t be long.”

Ducking out into the hallway, making sure the door closes behind her, Eliana slips out the phone and answers it.

“Hello?” she says, trying to sound a little normal.

“Have you heard?” a voice asks, low and dark. Eliana looks at the screen.

“Heard what, Clara?”

There’s a bitter laugh and a pit grows in Eliana’s stomach. “The Watersons. Fuck, Eliana, they killed their kids. Cops just found them.”

“What?” Eliana looks back at Luke’s door and takes a few steps down the hallway.

“Benny, Lucy, and Willa. They’re all gone. Word is that Chris and Donna put something in their food. They —” some rustling, the slam of a car door “— They fuckin’ drained them, Eliana.”

She blinks, stomach turning, and tries to make sense of it. “Why? I mean, Jesus Christ, what the hell?”

Clara scoffs on the other end. “All this shit with the sun. They didn’t want to leave their kids behind —” sarcasm drips with every word “— and they’re dead anyways so. Why the fuck not I guess.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. I just talked to them a couple days ago. They said they were going to send the kids to an uncle or something up in St. Louis.” They were sad, sure, but they seemed to have reached a level of acceptance. Even told her they were going to be with their families when the time came.

“Guess they changed their mind,” Clara says.

Eliana leans back against the wall, rubbing at her forehead with one hand, listening to quiet breathing.

“Fuck,” she says.

A hum. “There’s going to be more before this is all over,” Clara states. “As the clock starts counting down. When it finally sinks in.”

“Christ. What’s DPD going to do?”

“Fuck, what can they do? Half of them are turned and the other half are getting ready for the shit storm that is going to follow. Besides, it’s not like anyone is going to admit that they plan on killing their families. It’ll be busy for us to, you know, clean up and everything.”

Eliana looks at the floor and imagines her mother pacing underneath, probably still on the phone. Anxiety settles in her chest, heart beating just a tad faster. She takes a deep breath.

“Clara —”

“Eliana —”

Her mouth shuts with a click. She swallows. “Go ahead.”

Clara sighs. “Come to my place. You and Luke. Please? Until this passes?”

Shaking her head, Eliana replies, “You mean until my mom dies.”

“Technically she’s already dead.”

Eliana grits her teeth together. “Try that again,” she bites out.

“I’m sorry, Eliana. I — I’m sorry, okay? I just want you and Luke safe.”

The words tumble out of her mouth before she can stop herself. “We are safe.”

Her mother is a lot of things, but she — She isn’t that.

She’s not. She would never hurt them.

“Barely,” Clara retorts. “How’s she been acting? Erratic? Angry? Aggressive?”

“Christ, Clara, she’s trying figure out a way not to die. I think a little emotional volatileness is understandable.”

“Sure, but she has a habit of taking things too far. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.”

“Of course I haven’t,” Eliana snaps, reaching up to run a hand through her hair. She wants to pull it out. “What the hell is your problem, Clara?”

“No, Eliana. What is your problem? Jesus, it feels like you’re sticking your head in the goddamn sand. You aren’t safe there and you fucking know it,” Clara bursts out, voice raising enough for Eliana to hold the phone away from her.

Eliana clenches her jaw, teeth aching under the pressure, and smothers the desire to pitch her phone down the hallway. “I don’t need a lecture from you. You have no idea what it’s like —” The words catch in her throat, her mind catching up with her mouth, and shame slams into her like a freight train. God. She didn’t mean —

It’s just —

This is her mother —

But Clara had mothers too.

Dammit.

Eliana closes her eyes, squeezes them shut until the stars reappear behind her eyelids.

Clara breathes out heavily.

“Yeah, well, there’s a reason for that.”

Silence falls between them. She can still hear her mother downstairs, angry and demanding, and the quiet humming from Luke in his room. Her heart thunders in her ears. She wonders how many people can hear it.

“I’m sorry.”

“I think we’re going in circles,” Clara says dryly.

“Yeah, I guess we are.”

Moments pass before Clara speaks again. “Listen, I just want you safe. And I think the best place for you and Luke to be is with me, but clearly, I can’t force you to do anything. So, if you want to stay there, fine — just don’t forget you can always come to me okay? I’m just a call away.”

“I know, Clara,” Eliana quietly replies, scuffing her foot against the wood floor. “And I’m sure there’s something else you want to say, so. Just say it.”

Another sigh. “Your mom made her bed, Eliana. She knew the risks when she took the Bargain. Whatever happens happens. It’s not your fault either way.”

“Maybe she’ll make it,” she offers, not believing her own words for a second, “She’s trying to get ahold of that special glass treatment. Maybe it’ll work.”

“Maybe. For your sake, I hope so.” There’s ruffling, the rumble of the car engine as it turns over. “I gotta go. We have to get hazmat gear for clean-up. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Course. Be safe.”

[missn11]

Ship Meme time! Ryo/Akira :D :D :D

Ahhh the perfect ship to discuss after LaCroix/Nines!

Makes sense and compels me extremely! Why their relationship is quite a huge part of Devilman's plot, like how it went wouldn't have happened if not for Ryo falling in love with Akira! (honestly the end of humanity would've come sooner, so Ryo/Satan falling in love with Akira likely delayed the apocalypse by a while! XD)

Unlike LaCroix and Nines, (Talking about the manga version of them here.) Akira and Ryo were friends before everything went wrong and trusted each other so deeply, even to the point of being willing to go down to hell to together. They understand each other like no other, and would do anything for each other and that's what damns and saves them(in Violence Jack and Devilman Lady tho XD)

Akira willingly went through the Sabbath and became Devilman for Ryo (as well to save humanity but as we see later in the story humanity to Akira really includes the people he personally knows and loves) and Ryo/Satan has Amon merge with Akira to save him from the human apocalypse since Akira was the only human he could ever love. They both make the same mistakes in some ways, when Ryo/Satan fell in love with Akira he couldn't look outside of his hatred of humanity to consider that maybe if Akira was lovable to him then maybe not all of humanity is so bad. When Akira lost Miki and her family to the mob he couldn't look outside his hatred to see that maybe there were other humans that were like Miki who needed to be saved.

I honestly think Ryo fell in love with Akira because Akira was not only a kindred spirit but also showed him that he could live in peace, even if Satan didn't realise it at the time and that's why he is regretful at what he had done to Akira by merging with Amon. In a way he had started the progress that will make Akira mirror him in so many ways.

Despite their differences they understand each other even if they don't want to admit it and in a way they enable each other cause of it. Akira in my mind did come to hate humanity once he saw the evils they committed towards the devilmen and their own fellow humans in order to save themselves and that's why he was considering Ryo/Satan's offer to join him, because a part of him did a agree with Ryo on some level, but hated to ever admit it especially after Miki died. Like even tho Ryo was messy as fuck in trying to give his offer for Akira to join his side, the fact he thought it would work says a lot to me about how much he knew how Akira actually felt about humanity.

And despite all of the anger and hatred Akira had felt for Ryo towards the end of the manga in the sequels he still strives to either save Ryo(Violence Jack) or understand him, because he still loves him.(Devilman Lady manga)

And Ryo/Satan wants to understand/love humanity better through Akira's POV either by loving Miki like Akira had(Violence Jack) or taking on his role as Jun(Devilman Lady manga)

And imo in both Violence Jack and Devilman Lady they both save each other even if the journey is really rough and messy! XD

like I've said before their love damns and saves them in so many ways, they make each other both better and worse and the world(s) is never the same cause of it. Through love or hate they are drawn together and have a hard time being apart.

The fandom plays around this ship a lot and the best ways I've seen it be done is when its both a character and a relationship study where they understand how they can go towards war or peace together...

So yeah after all that waxing poetically again, they are very much OTP but I really like to ship them as a OT3 with Miki cause honestly I feel she is what is able to keep them together or break them apart...

So yeah, thank you so much for the ask on Ryokira, they always give me a lot to think about and I'll always have feels about them 😭😭😭