#you can’t heal without answers ❅ ask box

[eccentricwritingbaby]

i miss you, i’m sorry 

lando norris x reader

summary - breakup, missed calls, and lando at your doorstep. 

masterlist 

-

do you remember happy together?

i do, don’t you?

“hi, you’ve reached y/n! i can’t come to the phone right now but please leave me a messa-”

click. lando stares down at his phone, the daunting contact photo of you two together and happy staring back at him. mocking him. his eyes are brimmed with salty tears, his head mentally begging you to call him back. 

you had broken up one month ago, pressures of life forcing the two of you to become resentful and angry, with a common thought that you would both be better off apart. after two years together he moved out of your shared apartment, giving it to you, and finding his own. but, within a week, lando had missed you too deeply to even recognize any faults near the end, just hopelessly attempting to contact you in any way. he had called you every day since then, always getting your voicemail and never having the right mind to leave one. 

the boxes scattered around his apartment were just inanimate reminders of you, and how much he wished he would’ve never left. how much he wished he would have fought for you and your love, a love that hadn’t disappeared the more you two were apart, it only grew stronger. 

you said ‘forever’, in the end i fought it

please, be honest, are we better for it?

thought you’d hate me, but instead you called

and said, “i miss you”

i caught it

lando fell back into the couch, his dark phone haunting him as he reminisced. what was so bad about the end? you couldn’t make a few races? he knew his love radiated and compensated for that. he could deal with missed races and conflicting schedules if it meant having you back in his life. as he sits, the slight buzzing of his phone catches him out of his trance, and your smiling face appears on his screen. quick and slightly sweating fingers slide across the screen, answering fast with a clearing of his throat. 

“h-hello?” his voice slightly cracks into the phone. 

“hi,” he hears you sigh from the other line, his smile finally coming back as he hears your current voice, “you called?” 

“been calling,” lando tries to lighten the mood, “‘m glad you called back,”

“me too,” your soft voice is music to his ears, “i, i miss you,” your small confession was everything to lando as his full smile returned to his face for the first time since your ultimate breakup. 

“miss you too, love,” he sighs out in relief, “been needin’ to hear your voice,”

“yours too,”

nothing happened in the way i wanted

every corner of this house is haunted

and i know you said that we’re not talking

but i miss you, i’m sorry

“how’ve you been?” he subtly asks, his fingers now playing with the hem of his shirt - a nervous habit he had picked up from you in your years together. 

“have to admit, not that good,” he hears your giggle through his phone and his heart jumps with love, “the apartment feels too quiet without you here,” 

“my new one feels too empty without you here,” lando replies, his hand runs down his face, preparing himself for his next question, “listen, i-i know you said you didn’t want to see me but-”

“come over,” your voice interrupts, already knowing what he was going to ask, “please,” your voice drops into your most vulnerable octave, and lando is already scrambling to retrieve his keys in order to head out the door to your old shared apartment, to you. 

“be there in five, love,” he responds swiftly, jogging out the door in order to make it towards you faster. 

everything i know brings me back to us

i don’t wanna go, we’ve been here before

everywhere i go leads me back to you

the gentle knocking at your door brings you out of your post-call fog and back into reality. he was here. the man that walked out of your life easily and then wouldn’t leave you alone to heal is here. and fuck, you were so happy to see him. 

the breakup hadn’t been your first decision either, the words had just shouted out of your mouth before you could think things through in a fit of rage. and lando listened. and left. but now he’s here. 

opening the door you’re faced with the man you loved, love. his bright eyes and curly hair still the same, his hoodie and joggers making him ever so soft, and the smile graced on his face was hard to miss. 

“hi,” he whispers, almost afraid to scare you off.

“hi,” you whisper back, same fears in your brain as his, “come in,” you gesture to the inside of your once shared apartment, and he easily steps in, bringing a warmth that was missing to the space and making it a home again. just like that. 

“wow,” he states, keeping his same quiet demeanor, “i’ve missed this place,” looking around, his eyes land on you, “i’ve missed you,”

“i’ve missed you too, lan,” you take a step towards him, “i miss you, a-and i’m sorry, for everything,”

“why are you apologizing?” he takes your hands into his own, giving them both a soft squeeze, “i should be the one apologizing, i just left when things got hard instead of working on it and figuring it out, i-”

“no no,” you cut off his ranting, “i should have never suggested a breakup, that was my fault,”

“and i should have never gone along with it, i should’ve stayed, should’ve fought,”

“you did fight, lan,” your eyes begin to gloss as you look up at him, “you called and called, i just shut you out-”

“then don’t shut me out now, give me another chance,” his pulls your hands that are in his to wrap around his neck as his own land on your waist, “please, baby, give us another chance,”

“i love you,” you whisper, “i still love you, of course i want to be with you again,” lando doesn’t hesitate, now knowing you’re on the same page as him and moves forward to capture your lips into a breathtaking kiss.

“god i’ve missed this,” he pants, forehead resting against yours, “please never break up with me again,”

“please never leave again,” you whisper back.

“wouldn’t even dream of it, baby,”

[revelboo]

Hello! Just wanted to thank you again for all your stories. Like many other people have already said, please take care of yourself. But also, I hope you're still enjoying writing these! Like it hasn't become an obligation or a source of pressure. Take all the breaks you need.

(You likely already know to do that, apologies. Just saying it because many many years ago I *didn't* know that ^^; )

No worries. That’s actually why I’d stopped writing on FFN years ago- felt obligated to answer every single request. At this point, I’m just doing this for fun. I’d missed writing silly TF stuff and you guys are challenging me to write characters I’ve never even considered

Drive Pt 5

Constructicons x Reader

• Tangled in your blankets, you curl onto your side with one of the three books that been in the things Bonecrusher and Long Haul had brought you and try to keep awake as Scavenger’s scoop sways with his steps. You’re not sure what they’re working on, only that you’d been picked up blankets, book, and all by Bonecrusher and plunked into Scavenger’s scoop. Along with three more blankets, a pillow, a bottle of water, and a box of granola bars. Can hear them softly arguing as they work, occasionally getting jostled when someone bumps your current ride and you tip your head up to stare at the stars overhead. Freedom all around you and you can’t get down without breaking your neck.

• Heading over to Hook to check the blueprints Scrapper had made for them, Scavenger can feel the warmth of you, feel every time you shift around inside his scoop and it’s a strange, but not unsettling sensation having you there even though he’d protested when Bonecrusher had just dumped you inside without asking. And it wasn’t like he could deny that you’re safer with them than alone in their habsuite. “You still good back there?” He asks walking back to gather more materials and shivering when you lay a little hand against him.

• Grabbing Scavenger’s scoop when he tries to walk past and tugging to make his brother nearly bend backwards with a strained ‘frag off, you glitch,’ Bonecrusher checks on you. Ignoring Scavenger, he rumbles when you look up at him and smile. Holding his brother still with one big hand as he struggles and swears, Bonecrusher reaches to rub a servo against your jaw and warms when you reach to touch his servo. Chasing you down had been fun, but now he just feels guilty about it. But he still gets a thrill remembering the hunt. Maybe when your ankle is healed you’d let him catch you again?

• Sitting up when Bonecrusher finally stops petting you and lets Scavenger go, you really can’t figure out their deal. The six big mechs so rough with each other, jostling and arguing. And then treating you like you’re made of glass. They’d chased you down like predators going after prey, scaring you half to death and now they’re keeping you like a favored pet. They must want something from you, right? Or maybe they just like having something to care for. Standing, you try to see out over the top edge of the scoop.

• “Don’t fall and break something else,” Hook growls when he spots your little head peeking out and he reaches up to tap you gently on the nose with a servo until you duck back down out of reach. He can still see the top of your head, though as you move around. “Stay down,” he adds tiredly. Because the rest of the Decepticons seem to have lost their minds and he’d rather you stay out of sight. Megatron’s little message to the ranks and then that stupid brawl between the commanders in the hall has him on edge. Just keeps circling in his processor. Cybertronians and humans fragging. Primus. You should be safe out here in the woods, but he’s not sure what to make of any of it.

• Sitting back down, you listen to them working. Hear them pushing trees down. Mixmaster laughing raucously at something Scrapper said that you didn’t quite catch. The sounds of metal on metal, thumps and rumbles. Hooking an arm around your pillow, you stretch out on your belly with the book. There’s not really enough moonlight to read by, so you just listen to them work. Trying to figure out why you feel so safe with them when you should be scared, trying to escape.

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[itsnesss]

𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 | oliver bearman × fem!reader

summary | you’re still haunted by a past love, unsure how to move forward, but ollie waits

warnings | fluff, emotional vulnerability, past toxic relationship, self-worth issues, mentions of unresolved trauma

word count | 0.8 k

🖇️ sctw album 🖇️ more ob87

The night seems endless. The dim lights of the cloudy sky barely reflect off the windshield, and the silence in the car is thick, as if something else is sitting between you two.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye as he takes a smooth turn, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his thigh. Sometimes he taps the steering wheel with his fingers, like the movement helps him think or calm down. But this time, he doesn’t seem nervous. Just attentive. Waiting for you.

"Do you want music?" he asks, breaking the silence in a soft voice.

"No... It’s fine like this," you murmur, because any song now would be too much. It would make you feel something you’re not ready to hold.

Because you’re on the edge. All the time.

Since he showed up in your life, you’ve felt like you’re walking on a tightrope between what you could have with him and everything you haven’t let go of yet.

"I tried to be what he thought I was, I wasn't."

That thought keeps coming back like an old wound that still hurts when the weather changes. You curl up against the window, not looking at Ollie. You’re afraid of what he might see if he looks at you too much. Afraid that he might discover that sometimes you still hear *his* voice in your head. That you still wonder if the problem was you.

Your ex wasn’t cruel. Not like the stories other people tell. He didn’t yell at you or break you apart... at least not directly. His was slower, subtler. A collection of small disappointments that you absorbed as if your worth depended on how much you could endure. You molded yourself to like him. You changed your loud laughs for silences, your ideas for concessions, your boundaries for excuses. And when he left you in the end, you didn’t even cry. You just felt empty.

Now Ollie.

Sweet, patient, and with those eyes that always seem to see more than you want to show.

When he stops at a lookout point by the sea, everything becomes even quieter. You only hear the distant sound of the waves and your shallow breathing.

He turns off the engine.

"I know it’s not easy," he says without looking at you. "And maybe I’m asking you for something you’re not ready to give."

You don’t know what to say. You’re not even sure there’s a right answer. Part of you wants to ask him to stay. Another part feels like you don’t deserve it.

"I don’t want to hurt you," you whisper, and for the first time, you say it out loud. Something real. Raw. Honest.

He nods, but doesn’t pull away.

"Then don’t," he replies with a simplicity that disarms you. "Just... tell me the truth. That’s enough for me."

And so you speak.

Of your past. Of how you got lost in a relationship that seemed like love but was slowly draining you. Of how you learned to lock your emotions away in boxes you never opened. Of how you feel now with him. Scared. Confused. Tempted. And also alive. Because he makes you feel all of that together, and that’s what overwhelms you.

He listens.

Without interrupting. Without judging. He just listens.

And when you finish, when your voice breaks and the tears blur your vision, he doesn’t say "everything will be fine" or try to fix you. He simply leans toward you, carefully, and presses his forehead against yours.

"I’m not going to force you. Or rush you. I just want to walk with you, even if it’s slow."

The tears surprise you. Not because of sadness, but because of relief.

Because no one had ever offered you love like that: without conditions, without hurry, without demands.

"I guess I never healed right... Maybe it's a green light, but I can’t go."

Yes. You’re broken in some places. But maybe you don’t need to be whole to move forward. Maybe something can be built from that honesty.

He looks at you. And for the first time in a long time, your eyes don’t look away.

"I want to try," you say. "I don’t know how, or how long. But I want to."

He smiles. A soft smile, small, but enough to make you feel like you’re worth it. Even with your broken pieces.

You don’t kiss that night.

It doesn’t matter.

Sometimes, the real start of something isn’t a kiss, or a promise, or a certainty. Sometimes, it’s simply staying. In silence. Together. Waiting for the moment when you can cross that emotional stoplight without fear.

And Ollie, you know, will be there when that happens.

Because he doesn’t need you to run.

He just wants you to take his hand when you're ready and say: now, yes.

tags | @ebkitty

[circeyoru]

Shadow and Void _ Arc 4 Special: Moments with Kora

[Yandere!Sung Jinwoo x Enemy Monarch!Reader]

Arc 1: Part 1 ― Part 2 ― Part 3 Arc 2: Part 4 ― Part 5 Arc 3: Part 6 ― Part 7 Arc 4: Part 8 ― Part 9 ― Part 10 ― Part 11 ― Special (here) **Read Part 10 for context

You watched as the only human you made an oath with run into the staircase that few would use with tears in her eyes. Your eyes half-lidded with a bored expression while you snacked on some junk food you stole from the lost & found area. Kora sniffed and rubbed the back of her hands over her eyes to wipe away tears, you noticed a slight flinch at her shoulders before she spoke, “I know you’re there. You’ve been watching me since that oath and I could see again.”

Without another world, you snapped your fingers and just summoned her to your realm again. You weren’t about to appear in the human world and risk letting another human see you. “Why the watery eyes?”

“It’s called crying, Monarch of Void.” Kora continued to sniff and wipe her eyes, “But before I answer, why are you here now? Like show yourself to me again?”

“I was merely curious to see how my vessel is doing and if you’re dead.” You munched on another piece and sipped from your boxed drink, just floating in mid-air near you. “Since you’re fine, I guess you can go back.”

Kora, finally done with her nonsense crying, blinked and eyed you, “But before, you never showed yourself. That time when my family was in a car accident and we were the only ones to survive, I saw you in the smoke! I remember seeing you for one second and then no more.” She continued listing when you weren’t convinced, “That other time! When I was hiking in the forest and slipped! The place where rescuers found me was nowhere within their search range! I had a broken ankle and wrist, but it healed so fast that doctors didn’t believe it!” She pouted, “You were there! I swear it!”

You shoved the snack into her mouth as you gave her an unimpressed look. “Chew.” You didn’t move away until she did, then you backed up and sighed, “Those were the terms of the oath you made. I take it seriously. Besides,” You got into her face again and jabbed a finger under her neck, “Your body will soon be mine when the time comes. I can’t have a broken body.” You backed up again, “So, why the w- crying?”

Kora had wanted to say “it was nothing” but she knew there was no lying to you. Plus, something made her want to share her troubles and happiness to you. Afterall, you were her benefactor. “Some people in my class was picking on me, saying that I lied about being blind to get attention and sympathy… But it’s really nothing now! I’m okay.”

You gave her a look that screamed you didn’t believe her. “Well, I can kill them for you.” That made Kora flinch, “I can make them disappear and you won’t cry ever again. It is the simplest solution I can think of,” You eyed her, “So where are they? You point and I’ll do the deed. You have any requests on how they die?”

“No!” Kora exclaimed. Her face turned red in embarrassment when it was said and done. “I… I mean, there’s no need to go that far for me. It’s just some bullies, I can handle it.”

“But they made you cry. I can’t let them get away with it. My vessel is not a weak prey.”

Kora laughed, instinctively going up to hug you however way she could, “Thank you, Monarch of Void. You cheered me up.”

You blinked with a raised eyebrow, “I wasn’t trying… Nevermind.”

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“Why are you going to the gym? Your friends asked you to hang out.”

“Well, as your future vessel, I want to train up my stamina and such!” Kora smiled at you, “Since you’re eating snacks all the time and never do you have a healthy diet. I should be the more dutiful one between us. Don’t you think?”

“Hey. I am perfect! And snacks are good, they taste good and they are easy to get. And fast. Your meals take too long to cook. Oh, and prepare.”

“Then you eat for the both of us and I work out for the both of us. Win-win. Besides,” Kora pushed the doors open as she glanced to your direction, “I see this as private time with you, bestie!”

“I am not your bestie. I am the Monarch of Void! The King of—”

“Yes, yes. The King of Snacks.”

“You insolent—!”

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If looks could kill, you would have long killed this human male that has been trying to spend as much time as possible with Kora your vessel. You honestly would have if your little human vessel didn’t smile as much as she did with that male.

“Monarch!”

You rolled your eyes and snapped your fingers, bringing the young adult into your realm. “What is it?”

“I think I’m in love.” Kora swooned, cupping her blushing cheeks in her hands with her eyes closed. “There’s this boy that kept coming back to the cafe when it’s my shift and well… He’s a cutie and hot too.”

“Ridiculous. Don’t bore me with such tales.” You glared at anything but the lovey-dovey girl.

Kora pouted and popped over to you, “Don’t think I didn’t notice. Your presence was especially strong when he’s here, I can sense a murderous aura when he’s talking with me too.”

“Did you? Well, that saves me the trouble.” You got into her face, a misty finger jabbed at her collarbone. “Cease this emotion before it grows and consumes you. Love is dangerous. You, particularly, do not have the luxury of being with him for long.”

Though hurt at the truth and reality, Kora maintained a smile, “Come on, just let me have this crush.”

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“Stay quiet! Your life depends on it!” The man Kora fell for turned out to be some lunatic serial kidnapper, greedy for money. Since Kora was from a well-off family, it was logical that something like this would happen.

You watched idly as the van drove off. Your mind recalled a conversation you had with the ungrateful vessel. For that silly crush of hers, she yelled at you, she raised her voice at you to protect his honor—if he had any at this point in time. Well, this would teach that brat a lesson. While you don’t know much of humans, you do know human nature and auras.

“Monarch? Can you hear me, Monarch of Void…? Please… Please save me… I was wrong…”

The pathetic cries of your vessel rang in your realm. Your gaze hardened. It was one thing to teach her a lesson, but another to make her cry. 

You snapped your fingers and the van that was on the road to some abandoned factory place was now driving through the forest. You listened to the man’s disbelief and curses as he slammed on the breaks and halted the van, like a kid, he rubbed his eyes and poked his head out of the van to see if he was dreaming or if this was an illusion. He checked his phone, but regrettably, there was no service—you learned that from somewhere.

“That girl’s really cursed!” He opened the door and went around to the truck, his handgun at his side. He opened the truck door, Kora shivered from within, still bound by thick ropes and a masking tape over her mouth. Anyone would notice the bloodshot eyes and dried tear stains on her face. He cocked his gun, “I’ll just wait for the money after killing you. No hard feelings, girl.”

Kora’s eyes were wide and full of fear, she squeezed them shut as she prayed for you to save her or show her mercy. The sound of the gun firing echoed.

.

.

.

No pain. No nothing.

“You dare attempt to harm something of mine?”

Kora opened her eyes to find herself on a cloud of mist, her restraints long gone, there weren’t even any wounds. She turned her head around, there was nothing as far as the eye could see. This feeling of emptiness and void was suffocating. Tortuous. Her nose tingled and tears started to swell in her eyes before they flowed. “Monarch! I’m so sorry! I swear I won’t fall for anyone! I was an idiot! I was stupid! Please, Monarch!!”

Your misty figure appeared in front of her without much to tell, your emotions that is.

Kora sniffed, controlling herself. “I’m sorry… Monarch… You were right… I shouldn’t have fallen for him…”

“...” You sighed, “I never said that human in particular. This time turned out to be a fluke, that he was one of the bad ones. A villain? Like your storybooks or anime.” You snapped your fingers and got her cleaned up again. “Your time is limited, make the best of it.”

Kora finally smiled, “I will. Thanks for always being there for me.”

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Behind Kora’s back, you erased the man from human history. No records, no identity. You gave him his very own world within your realm, a hell of his own. Where the souls of the forgotten bide their time by tearing him apart with whatever methods they please. Time and time again, he would be healed to perfection, then passed to another to start the cycle again. You didn’t have to worry that his suffering would end soon, for there were a lot of souls who had been forgotten, the warriors of the Rulers, the soldiers of the Monarchs, and even the poor humans of Earth.

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Like before, you continued to watch over Kora with mild interest and regret as the promised time drew closer and closer. On one particular night, you made sure she was asleep to appear by her bedside. You can try it now, try to break the oath you vowed. With a hand raised over her chest, you recited. “I, the Monarch of Void, desire for the oath placed on the human soul Kora to b—”

You choked and collapsed on the floor, your hand reaching for your throat then your heart. An agonizing pain, a warning. You can’t break your oath. You knew instinctively. If you do, you lose you.

Your jaw clenched, your lips curled downwards, and your eyebrow twitched. You’ve gone and gotten yourself attached! Your mist formed daggers around Kora, hovering over her chest. You can’t let yourself be something as insignificant as a human soul. Not even Ashborn has yet to return. 

The dagger fell onto Kora.

.

.

.

But you stopped them. Your expression faded to nothing but tiredness, you stared down at the human girl that offered to be your vessel in exchange for her sight, health, and protection. You sighed and closed your eyes, you disappeared from her bedroom.

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“One more day.” You told her. “The Oath said the age of 25, but it never specified the date. So it doesn’t have to be on your birthday.”

Kora stared at you like you grown multiple heads. “Then… Tomorrow, I want to spend my time with you, Monarch.”

“Why—”

“Kora!”

“Sweetie, are you ready?”

Both of you turned to the door, you more so annoyed than anything. Humans are their timing.

“Monarch,” Kora’s voice brought your attention back to her, “Let’s not ask questions and just enjoy. Okay?”

You sighed, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” You slowly started to fade away, but you spoke to her gently, with honey and kindness, “Happy Birthday, Little One.”

“But I’m 25 already…” Kora laughed, she smiled at you, whispering, “Thank you, Monarch.”

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“Monarch… You asked why I’d pick you to spend more time with…” Kora finally spoke as she rode a dragon made of mist, a form you took to give her a lasting memory of. Sensing your attention, she continued, “It’s because I love you. You’ve always been there for me, watching over me, protecting me. You didn’t have to, but you did. I love you, Monarch. I don’t regret it, not ever. Meeting you was the best moment in my human life. I know it means little to someone like you, but… I truly do love you. If my dying can help you, then I’ll gladly do it.”

Kora leaned to the side and started free-falling through the sky. You dived down to catch her, your dragon form fading away in seconds as your hand reached out to her, you snapped your fingers and brought her into your realm. Kora fell into a puff of mist as you appeared beside her.

“That was my way of saying I’m ready, Monarch.” Kora smiled, explaining herself before you could yell at her. “That was thrilling.”

“Glad you liked it.” You looked away, but turned your gaze back to her as she held your cold misty hand.

“Will it hurt?”

“No, Little one. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Thank you. For making my life bright and everything else, Monarch.”

“Farewell, Kora.”

“Ah… That’s… the first time… You called… My name…….”

Kora’s form slumped against you, her heartbeat slowed until it ceased, her body turned cold, and her eyes close. Yet her smile remained, a peaceful look on her face as if your embrace was warm and cuddly. Your hand extracted her soul from her body and you let it hovered, your mist self entered her form.

The body’s heart started beating and returned to warmth. It You sat up and flexed your limbs, moving your fingers, your eyes opened and you immediately spotted Kora’s soul wavering and lost, shivering as if cold. You cupped it and held it into your chest, hugging it. “Rest, rest in my Realm of the Forgotten.”

Note: This was something I had written to explain a bit about Monarch of Void/your behaviour. If you think it could explain for show you more, then good, if not then you can ignore this as well. This chapter would actually come to explain some things in the future chapter. So for those who read this, congrats.

So~ This isn't detailed or that long, but the most important parts of Kora and you are I think here. If there's any question or scenes you want, you can send me an ask or inbox. For now, this is it. Hope you enjoyed this~~ See you guys in the next update!

𝕮𝖎𝖗𝖈𝖊 𝖄.

My Works: MASTERLIST *(regarding requests, check the Masterlist to see if it’s opened or not and other info related before sending one. Thanks.)

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[charliedawn]

Hi! Could I request a Five hargreeves fluff of any kind, I just watched season 4 of umbrella academy and I wanted a litte Five fluff.☺️

(Here you go ! Hope you’ll like it ! 😁👍)

Five had been cooped up in his office for days—barely eating to survive as he desperately tried to find a way to save the world and his family. His head was overwhelmed and he hadn’t slept in more than 24 hours. He was exhausted, frustrated and angry at himself for not finding some answer or equation to make it all better. He stared at all the papers with all the notes and calculations he had written down. He stared at them and felt the anger bubbling up inside him…until it burst.

He suddenly screamed in rage and threw all the papers on his desk to the floor.

"Why can’t I get it ?! Why can’t I find anything ?!"

He slumped down on his chair and raked his fingers through his hair. He wanted to teleport away—far away. But he knew that no matter how far he went, he couldn’t escape. He sighed and looked up at the ceiling…How could he save the world when he couldn’t even find the answer to a simple equation. No matter how many times he replayed the multiple endings in his history, he couldn’t save the world without…

He closed his eyes and was on the verge of tears.

…without sacrificing one of his siblings.

He would have happily sacrificed himself but then, there would be no way to ensure results. To make sure the end of the world never came. He then thought about Sir Hargreeves. The old man who had decided to put them all in this tricky mess and bail on them. That…coward. He felt more anger and resentment towards the old man. Anger and resentment he wanted to get rid of by punching or killing somebody. He was about to do just that when he saw someone standing in his office.

Y/N.

What were you doing here ?

"Get out, Y/N. Now, is not the time." He tried to dismiss you, but you didn’t move. You simply took a few steps towards him—a box in your hands. He ignored the box and just started glaring at you.

"Didn’t you hear me ?! I said—!"

"I heard you." You replied and Five blinked twice in astonishment. He then sighed and forced himself to smile.

"Fine. What can I do for you, Y/N ?" He asked with a sarcastic grin on his face. You looked at him and could tell that something was wrong and instead of answering, you approached even closer and put the box of cookies on his desk. He frowned and took one before looking back up at you with a skeptical raised eyebrow.

"Really ? Cookies ?"

You smiled and shrugged.

"I needed someone to taste them. Make sure they are good."

Five rolled his eyes.

"Y/N. Your power is to heal people with your cooking. Of course it is good, you literally cannot bake ANYTHING bad."

You kept your smile and shrugged again.

"Who knows ? Maybe you will find the taste different this time ?"

He kept himself from rolling his eyes a second time and just took a bite—knowing that it was the only way for you to scurry off and leave him to his mumbling and brooding.

"See ? Like I said, perf—." He started, but suddenly paused.

He chewed. He paused. He chewed again.

He frowned a little before licking his lips—his brow furrowed in concentration. He took a second bite. A third.

Then, when the cookie was gone, he looked at you. He was obviously puzzled.

"This…wasn’t one of your healing cookies." He finally said.

You grinned and nodded.

"You’re right. I tried a new recipe. You like it ?"

Five stared at you before taking a second.

"It’s…fine. I guess…"

He took a third.

And a fourth.

And a fifth.

And in a matter of minutes, all the cookies were gone.

He stared at the empty box and his heart suddenly felt…lighter. He sighed contentedly and leaned back in his chair—his eyes slowly closing. It felt like the days of baited exhaustion were finally taking their toll on him. You smiled and covered him with a blanket.

You took the empty box…looks like the new recipe was a success.

You smiled to yourself. You were about to leave when you suddenly felt someone grab your arm from behind and before you knew it—the empty box was on the floor and Five had his arms around you.

"…Thank you." He mumbled sleepily.

You were momentarily stunned before smiling and turning around to hug Five back.

"No problem."

You then stayed in each other’s arms until you both fell asleep. You didn’t need words to calm down Five, you had only ever been kind and patient with him. You took care of each other and that was perhaps the reason he trusted you so much. Because he knew that whatever happened, you would be there to hold him and reassure him that everything would be alright.

[itsabouttimex2]

Deep Sea Sympathies

Yandere Sun Wukong

“I still can’t believe MK got me back into this,” the simian before you chuckles. “But I’m kinda glad he did. I really missed drawing. I forgot how good it felt.”

“…I see,” you “answer”, maintaining a stiff and poised position, staring down at the collection of utensils that the hero is using. “Are you… having fun, then?”

“Aww, bud. Come and take a seat, okay? Look, I’ll even put out a little mat for you. Come and take a seat,” he invites, plucking one of his transforming ginger hairs to make a proper cushion for you.

His tail winds lazily around your leg, tugging you closer and closer to the squishy orange padding.

“C’mon, bud,” he says, cutting through your hesitation. His voice has a powerful edge under all the sweetness- reminding you that the Monkey King is someone you can’t say no to. “I want you to draw with me, kiddo.”

Wukong is fond of this- pulling you into little “bonding sessions” that take up the whole day and leave you without time to spend with anyone else.

It’s funny, though, really- you are the last person that need be manipulated away from others.

“The Great Witch of Gloom,” was the title that you had been assigned. Before you had a name, before you had taken a step, before you had so much as uttered a cry… your fate had been decided.

You were to be a wicked soul with dark motives and a darker heart.

As old memories flood into your ever weary mind, Wukong arranges a few sheets of paper in front your mat. The grip of his tail slowly tightens, and you cease all stalling.

Lowering yourself to the ground, the mat provides a cozy cradle to shield against the cold wooden floor.

“…it’s almost Winter,” you mildly comment, tracing a finger against a smooth plank. “It’s getting colder.”

“Oh,” the simian casually asks, scooting his mat closer to yours, “you like the snow?” Here’s chance he always adores- any rare tidbit of info you offer is a chance for him to spoil you, stocking up on presents and snacks in an attempt to drown you in platonic love.

It didn’t help that you always felt so indebted after he was done stacking gifts into your arms and bag.

“So, bud- what’re you gonna draw?”

The curiosity in his voice is almost innocent, almost sweet. He pushes the multi-tiered box of crayons towards you, smiling.

“C’mon, pick a few out!”

Awkwardly; and with a shaking hand to boot, you reach for the box.

It’s… not a comfortable sensation. Waxy paper around thick wax sticks makes for an awkward feeling in your hand, and you slightly recoil from the hueless cylinder.

“Aww, kiddo. No one draws with white- heck, you’d be better off eating it! Not that I’ve, uh, ever done that.”

“…I don’t know what to do,” is your blank confession that leaves Wukong quirking an eyebrow.

“What, you don’t know how to draw? You’vd never had… oh. Oh, kiddo.”

Realization colors his golden eyes, leaving the simian king with a sympathetic frown. Your parents wouldn’t have ever let you have something as fun and bright as crayons, would they? How could he have forgotten that?

It had been a nightmare for the Monkie Kids to pry information out of you, and a further mess to try pushing you towards a healing state.

And, honestly- Wukong’s doting ministrations really didn’t help. All the love and gifts in the world could not undo your traumas- but certainly left you feeling as though you were mired in debt.

Not that you had the words to voice those feelings, leaving Wukong to continue piling on with his affections- all in the futile hope that he could love away the demons of your past.

“Okay, bud. Maybe we stepped out of your comfort zone, huh? Alright, my bad. Tell me what you wanna draw, and I’ll pick out the crayons for you, okay?”

“…I don’t know what to draw, though.”

His frown deepens. It’s hard to think that someone as young as you could be so… he wouldn’t say broken. That was far, far too cruel a word for someone he loved so dearly. You were… “cracked”, maybe. A little “tarnished”.

Like you had given up on seeing a light at the end of the tunnel and decided to instead drift slowly along in a dark ocean.

…actually…

“Bud, don’t you like the beach? C’mon, why don’t you draw something from there, yeah?”

“…could I?”

Your little words break his heart. You shouldn’t have to feel like you need permission for something as simple as drawing a damn picture. But you *do*, so he answers with false cheer-

“Of course, kiddo! Draw anything you want!”

“…how do… how would I draw… a jellyfish?”

Finally, a real smile graces his lips.

“I didn’t know you liked jellyfish,” he says, in a too familiar voice that lets you know you’ll be receiving a loaded armful of themed plushes and stress toys in the very near future.

Another load of guilt, another load of debt.

“I’ll take you to an aquarium one day,” he tacks on, unaware of your growing insecurities. “And we can look at them together.”

To him, this is healing. Love and affection and unending comfort.

And certainly, Wukong is far better a guardian than your parents were. Instead of blaming you for powers you couldn’t control, he was always ready with praise and applause. Instead of resigning yourself to rotted garments rummaged from the trash, you had brand-new clothes and warm shoes. You were never hungry. You were never bored. You were never alone.

And, above all else- you were loved.

But you were not happy.

And you doubted that would ever change.

[mikkomacko]

Does anything ever happen to reader while Nico is away on a job?

In hindsight, it should’ve been something you and Timo accounted for. But it had never bothered you before unless the weather got really cold and even then it was something you could live with.

After Philly, the injury to your wrist had kind of faded to the background. What was more important was the stitching and scaring on your thigh, making sure it stayed dry and bandaged. Your wrist just healed in its own, with a brief conversation over the phone with Fleury to tell him it felt fine.

And it did, so you never thought anything of it.

Until one late morning at training with Timo, you were sparring him in the boxing ring, large pink gloves strapped to your hands. Timo was throwing the pads at you, meticulously following the combo pattern you’d gone over a million times. For some reason that day though, you threw your left fist into the pad, meeting the resistance of Timo’s stance and a needle of pain shot up your wrist. Burning in the little knobby bone on the inside, stinging all the way up your forearm and to your elbow.

Wincing, you immediately curled your arm into your chest, trying to shield the throbbing pain but you couldn’t get to it with the stupid gloves on your hands.

“Ow Timo, wait.” You stop, and he freezes, shaking off the pads and immediately reaching for you. Instinctively, you step away from him, still hiding your injured wrist from him. Instead you shove your good hand towards him.

“Off please.” You whimper, and he unstraps the glove without hesitation. With your hand now free you gently grab the band of the other glove, careful as you unstrap it and ease it off.

The pressure of the band throbs as it releases from your wrist, and you suck in a sharp breath, biting at your lip. Timo steps closer, fingers cautiously reaching for your wrist.

“It’s ok, just let me see.” He assures, and you sniffle, let him take your hand with a feather light touch and examine your wrist. It’s already swollen, red and angry but when he instructs you to wiggle your fingers, you’re still able to. Even if it brings tears to the corners of your eyes.

“We’ll get Marino to look at it,” Timo explains, speaking as if he were soothing a spooked horse. In your defense, the only person who ever touched these injuries were Fleury and Nico, both of whom knew to be extra careful with the reminders of that night in Philly.

It feels…raw and sensitive letting Timo touch such a fragile part of you, one that you had been pushing back for so long. Maybe it has hurt all this time and you just didn’t let yourself feel it.

You remember Nico, months ago when he was training you, always being easy on that hand. He never restrained it too tightly, never gave you boxing combos or self defense tactics that favored that hand.

“What if he can’t fix it?” You ask sadly, and Timo pouts in sympathy.

“He can. And if he can’t, Nico’s got the best hospital in the city on payroll, ok? You’ll be fine.”

Your stomach drops, anxiety gnawing at it uncomfortably. “We’ll have to tell Nico,” you sigh, already thinking about how that conversation would go.

He’s out of town for the next three days, handling something in DC with Jesper and Jack. He said it was nothing worrisome, just working out the details of the alliance with Ovi and the Caps that the devs have had for years. Casual and quick business. No big deal.

It will be a big deal if he gets a call that you’re hurt and he’s there for the next few days though.

Timo, bless his heart, sounds calm and certain when he coos, “he’ll be fine, it’s nothing big.” His eyes though, swim with worry. More than they did when he first saw your wrist. It’s probably a good thing that the worry isn’t aimed at your injury though. Like maybe it’s not actually that bad.

What’s worse is telling Nico.

~~~~

Two hours later, with a brace tightly wrapped around your wrist and an ice pack over it, you answers Nico’s FaceTime call.

He’s in a hotel room, the white bedding and pillows messy behind him, but all you can focus on is his freshly shaved face and dimpled cheeks.

“Hi baby,” he greets, adjusting the backwards hat on his head. You can’t help but smile, the sound of his voice already easing the heavy feeling you’ve had all day.

This is Nico. Even if he’s worried, this isn’t something you can’t tell him. There’s nothing you can’t tell him.

“Hi,” you say, smile lazy and tired. You push yourself up from where you had sunk into the couch cushions, carefully adjusting your numb arm.

“You ok?” Nico asks, eyebrows pinching together in worry. “You sound sad.”

“I’m ok,” you promise, “just didn’t have a very good training day.”

Behind you, somewhere in the kitchen you can faintly hear Timo talking to who you assume is Moose by the resounding bark that follows.

“No?” Nico pouts, those brown eyes of his shining with sympathy. “What happened?”

“Timo and I were sparring,” you explain through a dejected sigh, “and I re-sprained my wrist.”

“The one from-“

“Yeah,” you pout, lifting your arm to show him the wrap Marino had fixed you with. “Johnny said it’ll be fine in a couple days but from now on Timo has to help me build it up so that it doesn’t happen again.”

Nico huffs, dejected and annoyed sounding but you can tell by the look on his face it’s more out of guilt than anything else. Guilt for Philly, for the original injury, for not pushing you to address the fact that it was still fragile, for being gone now.

“I told T to watch it,” Nico says, shaking his head. “He should’ve known to not push you too hard on that one.”

“It’s been months,” you defend, “it didn’t hurt before. He probably just thought it was fine. I thought it was fine.”

“I know you thought that,” he raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Which is why I told Timo and not you to watch it.”

You jut out your bottom lip. “You don’t trust me?”

“I trust you, just not with your own injuries.” He laughs softly. “The same as you say to me.”

Your lips curl up in amusement. “Good thing we have each other then.”

“Except I’m not there this weekend,” Nico sighs, reaching up to remove his hat. He runs his hand through it, scratching at the tick of his jaw. “No more training until I get back and look at it. And Timo is with you 24/7, I mean it. I don’t want you so much as lifting a bottle of water with that hand, ok?”

He’s being a bit dramatic you think, but it’s sweet so you just smile and nod. Timo was already staying with you while Nico was gone and you weren’t planning on training anymore until you feel better so it’s no harm anyway.

“Yes boss.”

Nico huffs a laugh, going silent for a moment. He just looks at you through the phone, grainy but still beautiful. “You gonna be ok without me?”

“No,” you sigh wistfully, “but I’ll simply endure until my teddy bear of a boyfriend returns to snuggle me.”

You two share tiny giggles, Nico’s cheeks tinging pink at your sweet words. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs proudly and butterflies swarm your chest. “Call me if you need anything at all ok? Even if you don’t need anything. And make sure you’re resting.”

You nod along to his instructions, failing to hide the way his protectiveness has your cheeks warming and smile growing so wide it hurts. Nico tilts his head.

“What?” He asks, his own smile widening.

“Nothing,” you shrug. “I just love you.”

“I love you too baby.”

[moonshynecybin]

any humble updates on airport au...

context. SURE man what the hell. i actually have a good ass chunk written after this but hey. this is right after vale shows up at PI post sex dream and marc nearly crashes his scooter. happy birthday to these two filthy animals

Vale, like a mosquito, shows up at his box later that day, just before Marc is about to head out of the paddock. Probably because it’s a flyaway and he can’t show up at Marc’s motorhome to plague him there, and because he doesn’t know what house Marc and Álex are renting on the island.

He also, as a man put on the planet to consternate Marc, brings a good bottle of Merlot. And what with all of the recently healed very public animosity, it’s not like Marc can turn him away.

That’s what he tells himself, anyway.

“What was that about, this afternoon?” Vale asks immediately, rummaging around in the cabinets in Marc’s rider’s room and conjuring two cups without asking Marc if he even wants a glass. He’s pretty sure that the mug that Vale is eyeballing to see if it’s dirty is Jose’s.

He folds his knees up on the little couch in his rider’s room, a small act of self protection. He’s directly post-shower, and his hair is wet, his skin overheated. It's all a little — exposed. Like Vale might happen across his guts if their conversation winds down the wrong path. “I have a race tomorrow, quali, too— maybe I don’t want any wine.”

“God, I am glad I retired before they made us do sprints,” Vale cranks out the cork, then sniffs the bottle and makes a comically considering face until Marc breaks into a smile. He raises an eyebrow in the direction of the couch. “Well, do you?” He asks about the wine.

They sit and Marc takes his glass. Vale has unsubtly poured him a humongous portion.

“You didn’t answer me,” Vale ponders, sipping like a cat. “You know, you are not as good at lying as you think you are, it’s just that no one has the balls to call you out on it.”

Marc privately thinks that Vale is actually historically very bad at telling whether he is lying. He does not share this, he just crosses his arms on top of his knees.

“Hah, you should see my mom— she always let me blame stuff on Álex when we were young, it would make him so mad, and I would always get away with it.”

Turning towards him, Vale twists out of his hoodie, and Marc catches a soft strip of skin as his t-shirt rides up. The band of Vale’s underwear. He bites his lip and looks away. This is embarrassing.

“Hm, a born criminal, then? Not a learned one?” Vale is saying, throwing his hoodie over the chair and settling back on the couch.

Marc really hopes Vale has enough grace to let this afternoon go. He doesn’t have a lie ready, really, that he thinks Vale will believe.

“No, please. Most of those tricks I learned from you.”

“Like what?” He’s looking at Marc with big, innocent eyes.

He knows exactly what, he just likes to hear Marc say it.

“Lots of things. It’s probably the reason I was second place at Jerez in 2013, instead of third.”

It works, and Vale guffaws. Marc knew that it would— He used to love it when Marc would do shit to Jorge. Marc used to love doing shit to Jorge for that exact reason.

“Marc, please, please. We are in Australia, you have to pay your respects to Mick Doohan for inventing that move. He’s probably only about twenty meters away.” He drops his voice into a whisper. “Be careful, honestly maybe he can hear you.”

Marc looks at the ceiling, responds gravely, “I’m not a Repsol Honda rider anymore, I can do what I want.”

“Cin-cin. Hey, me neither,” Vale says brightly, and clinks his cup (José’s travel mug that says LESS TALK, MORE COFFEE) against Marc’s (a protein shake bottle that is missing its lid).

He can do what he wants. Marc turns that over, chewing on the edge of a thumbnail. He’s always thought so, but this is a little bit different. He changes the subject.

“Álex wants to go shopping on Monday at the airport, before our flight home. His girlfriend— it is her birthday on Wednesday, and he wants to get her this at one of the stores there, you know,” Marc pulls up his phone, finding a picture Álex sent him of the necklace. It's— Marc doesn't like it, but Marc’s picky. “And I think it is such a bad idea. It is so ugly, too much. He’s going to scare her.”

Vale looks for a second at the photo, picking at one of his nails, and then looks over at Marc.

“You wouldn't get that for your girl?”

“I wouldn’t get her something like that.”

“Well, what does she like?” Vale takes another pull of his drink, a little more subdued now. His face looks– pinched, for some reason. “Your girl. Maybe she has some ideas.”

“Oh, um.”

Vale just stares at him until he breaks. “No, no girlfriend. With travel, it's hard, you know.” Marc puts down his wine, leaning down to grab his racing boot and fiddle with it. “So. Not really looking.” The strap won’t close. He might need to get one of his backups tomorrow, for the race.

After a moment he notices Vale is still looking at him.

“Hm.”

“Yeah,”

“It’s hard.” Vale agrees, and then goes silent. “Tell Álex that the necklace is not so good. Try simple. Expensive.”

After a taught second where the both sip at their wine, Vale looks like he wants to say something more, but when he starts talking it's bright, airy, unrelated. Some story about him and Mick and being a Honda rider at the tobacco money fueled turn of the millennium, hands moving in the air as he mimes some poor mechanic scrambling to switch a tire. Marc watches, and he can’t stop looking at his hands, his neck, the way his mouth curves around syllables, the slant of his posture.

The thing he is realizing, while Vale boyishly shakes his head in a disapproving impersonation of Jeremy Burgess, is that— this hot fixation he’s discovered, it isn't a one-off. It's not the past, it's here, and it's now. He’d thought a little space would clean things up, work the frustration out of his bones, but the lack of space is serving to be just as clarifying a force. He sits and he stares. It's not just a dream or being pent-up from a long season, he’s not even sure that this is new. It doesn't feel like it is, it feels a lot like when he was 15 and meeting him, like when he was 20 and friends with him. Like when he was 21 and at the Ranch. Like when he was 22 and feeling like he was going to throw up, boring holes with his eyes in the side of Vale’s neck and willing him to look at him.

Hero-worship, he’d thought. The thrill of being friends with Valentino Rossi. People usually grow out of that, don't they? Marc didn't, and now he knows why.

He can do what he wants, Vale had said, except that he doesn't know that he can. Because what he wants, what he thinks he wants, well. That’s not really an option.

He takes his first sip of the night, and the Merlot bursts earthy and light on his tongue.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 62

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,500ish

Summary: Wade continues to search for a solution while Logan, Laura, and you try to fix the previous night.

Notes: I hope y'all like this chapter! I just had to get it out as soon as possible. Please share reactions! 

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

“Have you found anything?” B-15 asked, coming over to the table that Wade had spread the files on.

“I have found that only five Ember’s, including my Buttercup, have her phoenix ability and none of them had power problems like her,” Wade stated, still searching through the files. “She is truly unique, which I could have told everyone, but I didn’t need her to be this unique.”

“Keep looking. There has to be something.”

“There’s a few leads here and there, but nothing that could heal her completely.”

B-15 sighed. “Maybe she can’t be healed completely. Maybe all you can do is find her something that allows her to live without pain for as long as possible.”

“I’m not giving up.”

“I’m not saying you are. I’m just saying that maybe saving her looks a little different than you hoped.”

Deep down, Wade knew that B-15 was correct. But he wasn’t about to stop looking for something that would save you. Logan, Laura, and Wade wouldn’t be able to survive if your powers were to finally end your life. They wouldn’t survive watching you in pain like that, though he knew that none of them would leave your side. Wade had to keep looking and he wouldn’t return until he found a solution.

~~~

Logan didn’t get any sleep that night, too worried about you. In the morning, he went down to the nearest bakery and grabbed some pastries. It took him awhile to settle on a wide variety since he realized that he didn’t know what you or Laura enjoyed. As he walked back, Logan paused in front of a flower shop. He looked at all the different flowers and hated that he knew his old you’s favorite flower but not yours. He didn’t want to bring you a bouquet that could be wrong, but he wanted to still bring you something. Just to see you smile after the hard night you had.

The florist was clearly unimpressed when he asked for two bouquets, with one of every flower in each. Logan didn’t care though. He didn’t know your favorite flower or Laura’s, he had to make do with it and next time he’d hopefully know.

Arms full, Logan headed back to your apartment. He had a key that he could easily use, but after Laura throwing him out last night, he wasn’t going to cross that line. He knocked on the door the best he was able to with the items in his grasp. Logan’s nerves felt like they were on fire as he waited for someone to answer the door. He was hoping that it would be you, not knowing if Laura would let him in or not. His stomach tightened as Laura opened the door.

“Mornin’,” he greeted. “I, uh, brought you and your mom some pastries and flowers.”

“Come in,” Laura said, quietly. She moved out of the way to allow Logan to enter.

“Thanks.”

Logan stepped inside and stood near the door as Laura closed it. Glancing around, he couldn’t see you anywhere. His concern grew thinking that you might have had a harder night than he thought.

“Mom’s asleep,” Laura explained, already knowing what he was thinking. “But I can wake her—“

“No, no,” he interrupted, “don’t. Your mom needs her sleep.”

Laura nodded and motioned to the dinner table with her head. “Let’s sit down.”

Logan followed Laura over to the table. He set down the box of pastries and one of the bouquets before offering the other bouquet to Laura. “I, uh, didn’t know what flowers you and your mom liked.”

“These are for me?” Laura timidly took the bouquet from him.

“Yes.”

“But I was terrible to you last night.”

“It’s no big deal.”

“But it is. You didn’t deserve it. Mom told me that you helped her. Thank you. And I’m sorry.”

“Laura, it was just a misunderstanding. I know that you and your mom have been through a lot and I understand that you’re protective of her. It’s just been you and her for a while and now it’s not. I’m here to help both of you— oof!” Laura had barreled into Logan, gripping him in a tight hug. It took Logan a moment, but he eventually hugged back.

“Thank you,” Laura was crying into Logan’s shirt. “Thank you for being here… for her… for me.”

He pressed a kiss to her head. “Of course, kid. You’re stuck with me. No matter what.”

“And my favorite flowers are Fire Lillies because they remind me of mom.”

Logan chuckled lightly as they continued to hold each other. “I’ll be sure to remember that.”

“What’s going on out here?” Your voice came from the end of the hallway. You were confused as to why Logan and Laura were hugging.

“The kid was just apologizing,” explained Logan, pulling away from Laura. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” you told him, coming over to the table. “What’s all this?”

“Uh, these are for you and Laura.”

“He brought us both a bouquet,” Laura said with a grin.

“I can see that.” You looked over at the bouquet in her hands and then at the one at the table.

“Here,” Logan quickly grabbed it and handed it to you. “I, um… I’m sorry that I didn’t know what your favorite flower was.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you shook your head, holding the flowers close. “These are perfect. Thank you, Lo.”

“I’ll grab vases,” Laura said, taking your bouquet from you and taking the needed steps over to the kitchen.

You sat down at the table and dragged the box of pastries closer. You lifted the box and took in the smell. “Are these from the bakery down the street?”

“Yes,” Logan answered as he sat in the chair beside you. “Again, uh, I’m sorry that I don’t know your favorite.”

“Logan, the flowers were already too much, please don’t hold it against yourself. I’ll honestly eat most pastries anyway.”

Logan nodded. “Good to know.” His eyes found themselves studying your bandaged arms as you reached for one of the pastries. He noticed that some blood had managed to bleed through. “I’ll be right back.” Logan stood up and made his way to the bathroom, grabbing the needed supplies before going back to sit beside you. “Give me your arm.”

“I can rebandage myself, Lo.”

“No need, I’m here.” He reached over and carefully pulled your arm straight. “Just sit there and eat the pastries. You need somethin’ in you if your body’s gonna heal.”

“You’re bossy this morning,” you teased, taking one of the pastries out.

“Gotta be, doll. You’re far too stubborn.”

~~~

Breakfast was full of talking and laughter. It was a nice change of pace from the day before. Laura eventually had to go to work as did Logan, leaving you alone to your thoughts. You sat on the couch, staring at the two bouquets of flowers that sat in jars on the table. Despite how crazy and ugly they might seem to others, they were beautiful to you. It made you think of Laura’s words last night.

Logan did make you happy. The happiest you had been in a long time. You were impressed with how hard he was trying to make up for past mistakes, though they had nothing to do with you. He was also trying so hard to just be there for you and Laura. It meant so much.

You sighed as your eyes fell to the ring that weighed heavily on your finger. Your feelings were all over the place, though was thing was clear. You felt like you were cheating on your husband. It was ridiculous. Your husband was dead—well, technically no, he was still out in the world with a younger version of you—but he was dead to you. You thought after so long, it wouldn’t hurt as much. But now that feelings were starting to rise in you about this Logan, it began hurting again. And you had no clue what to do. You knew that this Logan deserved better than a confused widow. Though you were pretty positive that didn’t matter to him. 

Your other hand pulled off your ring slowly and held it up. This ring symbolized a lot. It held a lot of weight—a lot of memories and a lot of love. You hated the thought of taking it off permanently. It felt like you were forgetting your Logan—your James. But you knew that it was part of the reason you couldn’t fully heal and try to move on. You brought it up to your lips, closing your eyes as you pressed a kiss to it. A tear slipped passed your closed eyes.

“I love you, James,” you whispered. “And I miss you every day.”

You pulled the dog tags out from under your shirt and over your head. Opening up the chain, you slipped the ring next to the dog tags. You closed up the chain and held the items in your hands. The ring had sat next to these dog tags for years and it felt like they belonged there. You wiped the tears away before slipping the necklace back on and tucking it under your shirt.

Your finger felt empty as you moved your fingers around, trying to get used to the lack of weight. It would take longer than a few seconds though to fully get used to it, but you would eventually. As you sat there, you came to the conclusion that another ring would never sit on your finger again. Your marriage was between you and James, no one else could step into that place. Yes, maybe a relationship could come down the line, but there would be no marriage from it. Your husband would always be James.

Taking a deep breath, your thoughts returned to Logan. You don’t know if anything would come of your sprouting feelings for him— you may not let anything— but you knew that you couldn’t lose his friendship. He had changed your life in more ways than you truly knew and you were so grateful for him. As you thought more on it, you realized that you didn’t do enough for him and that you wanted to put more effort into helping him like he was helping you. And so you would do just that.

~~~

Laura came home to find you in the kitchen cooking dinner. 

“Hey, kiddo,” you greeted, throwing her a smile. “How was your second day?”

“It was good,” she replied, dropping her things on the table. “Still just training. But I think I’ll like this job.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“How was your day, mom?”

“It was good. Just spent the day here, cleaning, and now I’m making dinner.”

Laura nodded and moved to look at what you were making. “This is Logan’s favorite meal of yours,” she immediately noted.

“Just a thank you for the flowers and the pastries this morning.”

“Mhm. Okay.”

“Laura, don’t read into it, please.”

“I’m not, I’m not. But you are lucky that Wade’s not here to mention anything.”

You rolled your eyes. “I do hope he’s okay. We haven’t heard from Wade at all.”

“I’m sure he’s fine. He got into plenty of trouble before us and seemed to be able to get out of it, I’m sure now is no different.”

“I guess.”

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you. Laura stood near, watching you cook until she noticed something. She stepped closer and grabbed your hand, stopping you from working.

“Mom, where’s your ring?” She asked, clearly concerned.

“With the dog tags around my neck,” you told her.

“What? Why?”

“It’s the next step to healing… at least, it’s me trying to heal more. Who knows how long it will last there. My hand feels naked.”

“Mom… that’s a big step.”

“I know. And it wasn’t an easy decision, but it was necessary.”

Laura gave your hand a squeeze before letting it go. “Need any help?”

“From you, always, kiddo.”

~~~

Logan had once again made sure he was all cleaned up before heading over to your place to check on you and Laura. As soon as he opened your apartment door, Logan recognized the smell of his favorite dinner you make.

“Hey, Lo,” you smiled, noticing him enter. “You’re just in time. Food’s all done and the table is all set.”

“Smells amazing, doll,” he complimented, heading over to the table. 

“It’s your favorite, right?”

“It is.”

“Good. I wanted to make something as a thank you for everything you’ve done for me and Laura.”

“You didn’t need to, darlin’.” He shook his head. “I don’t need anything as a thank you.”

“I know… I wanted to.”

Butterflies fluttered in Logan’s stomach at your actions and the way you were looking at him. Laura awkwardly cleared her throat as she sat down at the table. 

“Are we going to eat?” She wondered. “I’m hungry.”

“Uh, yeah,” Logan said, pulling himself from staring. “Here, let me.” He pulled out your chair at the end of the table.

“Thank you,” you said softly as you sat down and he pushed the chair in.

He shot you a small smile as he sat down next to you, across from Laura. The three of you immediately dug into the food, chatting away about your days. It was a comfortable scene, like it was a frequent occurrence. Once you all were done eating, Logan and Laura cleaned up, forcing you not to move from the couch.

“I’m heading to bed,” Laura said once dinner was cleaned up. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, kiddo,” you told her.

“Night, kid,” Logan said. His focus returned to you. “You need anything?”

“No,” you shook your head. “I’m good.”

He came over and sat beside you. “How are your bandages?”

“They’re fine. Should be off tomorrow.”

“Good, good.” His eyes still scanned your arms to check for himself, pausing at your hand. His brows furrowed as he noticed that something was missing: your ring. “Darlin’, where’s your wedding ring? Did you lose it or somethin’? I can help you find it. I’m sure it’s around here somewhere.”

“It’s okay, Lo,” you stopped his hurried offerings with a hand to his arm. “It’s just around my neck. It’s still with me.”

He nodded, not fully knowing how to respond to that. He didn’t know if he was his place to pry as to way you had decided to take it the ring off your finger after all this time.

“Well, I, uh, I should get going,” he said, standing up. “Thanks again for dinner. It was amazing.”

“It’s the least I could do after everything you continually do for me and Laura.” You stood up with him and walked him to the door. 

“It’s no big deal. I’m here to help.”

“I truly appreciate it, Logan. Really.” You opened the door for him, allowing him to step through. “Goodnight, Lo.”

“Goodnight, doll. I’ll check on you tomorrow.”

“Looking forward to it.”

next chapter >

[tiredfox64]

You're Odio sorry on Kuai Liang x reader gave me feels bc I know the feeling of watching someone you have feelings for love someone else, leaving you to wonder what you could've done better to receive their love.

You should do a part 2 where reader finally finds love again and moves on with someone else (Smoke, Syzoth, Kenshi, etc.) which awakens something in Kuai Liang that made him realize that he also loves you but now he must live with his choices?

Recházame

Prior notes: WOAH! Did not expect someone to request something! I’m glad you enjoyed it (I think I hope i didn’t awaken something painful)! Sorry I am posting this late I had classes before and they all have a no technology policy :P so I could not sneak in more work. But I hope this is what you wanted I’m sorry if it isn’t I tried!

Pairing: Tomas x Gn Reader, Kuai Liang

Warnings ‼️: More Angst I fear.

Heartbreak can feel like an eternity. Watching someone you loved for so long be wedded to another. You’re left wondering what you could have done differently. And right now you were sulking in your quarters again with the same thing playing over and over in your head. Seeing Kuai Liang holding and kissing Harumi on their wedding day.

Your sulking was interrupted when you heard a knock on the door. What now?

“Who is it?” You answered back in a strained voice.

“It’s me, grandmaster. You have a visitor. It’s…Tomas.” Your second-in-command answered back.

Your heart stopped beating for a second. Why would Tomas be coming over?

“Bring him in.” You said before wiping your tears away.

They opened the door to let Tomas in. He walked in with a soft expression, as if not to scare you away from talking to him. He had a little box with him. A gift for you. If Kuai Liang couldn’t get close to you maybe Tomas could.

“Hello…grandmaster.” He struggled to call you that. You were his friend but he found it best to stay professional right now.

“Please, Tomas, we are friends. No need for such things.”

Tomas nodded before bringing his attention back to the gift in his hand.

“Oh, I have a gift for you. It’s from Kuai Liang. He said it was-“ He was quickly cut off when you swiped the gift out of his hands, knocking it to the ground.

You really surprised Tomas with that. Immediately you got frustrated with yourself. You cursed yourself for being aggressive with him as he wasn’t the one you hated. He’s innocent in all this and you can’t take it out on him. You took his hand into yours to apologize.

“I-I’m so sorry, Tomas. I don’t know what has gotten into me. Please…forgive me.” You started to silently weep.

Tomas just looked at you with confusion but realized you were in pain. He couldn’t tell where exactly but you were suffering. He pulled you in close and hugged you tight. His hands ran through your hair and he squeezed you with his big, strong arms. The floodgates opened and you started to cry hard. Tomas never pulled back but instead comforted you. And it stayed like that for a while. The rest of the night actually. He made you lie back down in your bed and comforted you to sleep. You cried yourself to sleep in his arms. That was the most peaceful rest you had gotten in a long while. And that’s when the healing process started.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Every week whenever Tomas could he would visit you and your clan. Every time he would ask how you were doing and each time you slowly got better. It was awkward at first because you felt bad for falling asleep in his arms. He didn’t mind at all, it was nice for him as well.

You managed to confess to Tomas that you had feelings for Kuai Liang for the longest time and seeing him with Harumi broke you. Tomas never judged. He understood how love can hurt someone. Make their heart that once held love be corrupted with hate. Without knowing it he was helping to fix your once loving heart.

You two would talk from day to night, night to day. You let your feelings out which was what you should have been doing in the first place. You were just scared to be vulnerable in front of your clan as they needed a strong leader. But Tomas was there to listen to you and never judge what you had to say. All the negative emotions left your body and soon your body was filled with love again. Love not for Kuai Liang but for Tomas. And his heart filled up with love for you.

Your clan was more welcoming to him than they were with Kuai Liang. He made their grandmaster whole again. You smiled more. You laughed more. You even apologized to your clan for being negative which they quickly forgave you. They just want you to be happy now.

It was awkward at first because you both didn’t know how to confess it to each other. You guys ain’t experts in this. But you had to be the brave one and say something. On a night where you two were in your room alone you spoke up.

“Listen, Tomas, I want to thank you again for helping me out. I was in a really bad place and I thought I’d never get out of it.” You said.

“Of course! How could I leave someone as special as you to suffer? I would hate for someone like you to stop being so sweet, precious, dare I say even lovable.” He chuckled softly before placing his hand on top of yours.

Well if that ain’t flirting you don’t know what Tomas was doing. What you do know is that it made your heart flutter and your cheeks burn once again. The hate is gone. There is love once more in you.

You struggled to get the words out. There was no right or wrong way to say how you felt. Words can’t express it but actions could. That’s why you practically threw yourself at Tomas. He was surprised by what you did but before he could ask what was wrong, he felt your lips against his. It was clear as the night sky what this was about. Tomas wanted the same thing so he kissed you back. There was passion and love between you that it felt like he was actually meant for you. It was never Kuai Liang. It was Tomas. Your heart belongs to him now. How sweet of an ending.

Except it isn’t. You may have forgotten Kuai Liang but he never forgot you.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Kuai Liang already suspected something was wrong. Tomas was keeping secrets. Even when Kuai Liang sent Tomas over to talk to you he acted like nothing happened when that wasn’t the truth. There were nights where Tomas wasn’t in his bed and would show back up in the morning as if it was all normal. It only got worse after the night you and Tomas kissed. Kuai Liang had no clue where he was going.

The answer hit him like a bullet one night.

Kuai Liang was making sure the Shirai Ryu grounds were safe. He was lost in thought before looking up to the full moon. His eyes widened when he saw something unusual. A silhouette that looked like you. No, not a silhouette, it was you! You were there talking to Tomas.

Kuai Liang was about to call out to you. Say how happy he was to see his best friend again. How he has been fighting to see you again after his wedding. Wonder why you ever turned nasty. But he stopped once he saw something he would never imagine would happen.

He watched as you embraced Tomas and kissed him in the moonlight. Tomas’ hands wrapped around your waist and pulled you close. This couldn’t be right. His brother and his best friend…why is he feeling this way.

Kuai Liang never felt something so painful in his heart. Not even when Bi-Han admitted that he let their father die was this pain in his heart so great. It was a mixture of anger, sadness, and even disgust. Seeing his own brother hide the fact that he was seeing you all this time. How his lips were on yours and his arms were wrapped around you. This had to be some sort of joke. What a sick joke if it was one.

He couldn’t speak. He just stared at you and Tomas making out in front of him. He felt such strange urges. To take you away from his brother right this instant. To push his brother away from you. To yell at you about what you were doing. He didn’t even realize he was grinding his teeth. He just had to walk away at this point.

Even when Kuai Liang went back to the Shirai Ryu temple there was this negative energy going around. A man who never raged like a forest fire was randomly bursting into flames. Patches of fire danced across his skin as he made his way back to his bedroom. Even Harumi was unsure what was happening to her husband. He wasn’t saying a word.

The other clansmen notified Tomas of what was going on with his brother. Even the young Hanzo was confused by the grandmaster’s rage. He went to Kuai Liang’s room which Harumi let him in, leaving the two men to themselves.

“What’s the matter? Why are you bursting into flames.” He asked with concern.

“When were you going to tell me you two were seeing each other? Do you find it right to hide such secrets from your brother.” Kuai Liang questioned with such a cold tone that it contrasted with his fiery outbursts.

Tomas froze up. That’s why he is reacting like that? He knew it was wrong to hide what was going on but he was simply protecting you. You were the one who was hurting the most to the point you changed in a negative way.

“I would have told you when they were ready.” Tomas responded.

“I sent you over to speak to them. I sent a gift. What ever happened to the gift, huh?!”

“They didn’t want it! That doesn’t mean they hate you. I’ve been helping them-“

“Kissing is helping? The man I trusted the most goes around kissing someone I love as if you truly love them.” Kuai Liang didn’t even realize what he said, but Tomas did. That’s why he grabbed his brother by the arms.

“I do love them! And your love belongs to your wife, remember?” Tomas responded which made Kuai Liang’s blood run cold.

That’s right. His wife Harumi. The one he ran to in a time of need as if she were the only option. Never even thinking of you as an option. And now he wants to see you as an option? When someone else has your heart and healed it?

Tomas let go of his arms before walking out of the room. That whole confrontation only fanned the fires and Kuai Liang is left to his own mind. A mind that festered with the thought of what you and Tomas were doing all this time.

Did he kiss you all the time? Does he hold you close? Was he with you on those nights when Kuai Liang couldn’t find them. Where had his lips been? Was Tomas your first in bed!? Oh heavens! He couldn’t stand the thought of that being true.

Tomas could never treat you right. He could never kiss you in such a way that would make you giggle or blush instantly. He could never make you smile just by picking you up and twirling you around. His hands could never make you feel wonderful things in the dead of night before caressing you to sleep. Kuai Liang felt like the only person who could ever do that was…him.

What was wrong with him? He’s married now. You’re in a relationship. This is just wrong. It’s all gone wrong.

He loves Harumi, he would never think about being unfaithful. But it was only now that he realized he loves another. It was you.

Kuai Liang could never rip you away from Tomas. He’s seen that there is chemistry between you and him. It would be wrong of you to be unfaithful as well. So what can be done? Well, you must reject each other. You can’t accept each other’s love. Especially now when your love for him may be gone already. It hurts but he must accept the pain. If he carried on with it he will end up suffering, and in a way so will you.

You love another, no more hatred. Kuai Liang will have to live with his decision. He wasn’t wrong or right. Neither were you. It’s just how love works.

After notes: Once again sorry if this ain’t what you wanted, I did my best. I’m not the best at angst for this was my first go. I didn’t even have a part two in mind but my brain went into overdrive when I saw the idea. Anyways thanks for the request! Adiós!

[kitty384]

Just Outside the Door

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes x Teen!Reader (Found Family | Platonic | Soft Dad!Stucky)

Summary: You’ve been through more than most people survive—and today, you finally agree to take the first step toward healing. Steve and Bucky don’t say much. They don’t push. They just walk you to the office, sit outside the whole time, and remind you with their silence: you don’t have to do this alone.

Warnings: Discussions of trauma recovery, mild anxiety, first therapy session, reader fear of vulnerability, gentle comfort, protective dads, implied past emotional neglect, implied PTSD, found family tenderness

I didn’t sleep the night before.

I just stared at the ceiling in my room, heart crawling in my chest, that tight ache behind my ribs growing heavier with every hour that passed.

It wasn’t the kind of fear I could name.

It wasn’t even fear of the therapist.

It was fear of me.

Fear of what might come out if someone asked me to speak out loud.

Fear that I’d sit down in that soft chair, in that soft room, and the moment someone said, “How are you really doing?”—

I’d break.

Steve didn’t say anything when I came down for breakfast that morning.

He just handed me a mug.

Warm tea.

No sugar, just the way I liked it.

Bucky passed me a slice of toast and smiled like he didn’t notice the way my hands were shaking.

And neither of them said a word about where we were going.

They let me bring it up when I was ready.

I didn’t.

Not even once.

But I still followed them when they got in the car.

Still put on the hoodie Steve left folded on my desk. Still slipped the comfort stone Bucky had given me into the pocket.

Still sat between them in the backseat like I couldn’t trust myself to face forward.

The clinic wasn’t far.

Fifteen minutes, maybe.

But it felt longer.

My palms were sweating by the time we pulled into the parking lot.

Steve turned off the car.

Bucky glanced back at me.

And both of them waited.

They didn’t say, Are you ready?

They didn’t say, Come on.

They just sat.

Silent.

Soft.

Until I opened the door and stepped out on my own.

The building was modern and quiet.

Pale blue walls. Big windows.

Nothing about it looked dangerous.

But my heart wouldn’t listen.

Every step felt like walking toward something I couldn’t name.

At the front desk, Steve gave my name.

They didn’t make me speak.

They didn’t ask me to explain.

The woman behind the counter smiled gently and handed me a clipboard.

I didn’t touch it.

Bucky took it for me.

Filled in every blank.

Checked every box.

“Just sign it when you’re ready,” he murmured, handing me the pen.

I scrawled my name in the corner like I was afraid it would catch fire.

The waiting room was almost empty.

Just one other person.

I sat down between them again.

Not because I needed to be protected.

But because I didn’t know how to feel normal without them.

When the door opened and my name was called, I felt my body freeze.

Steve leaned close, voice low and calm.

“You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to.”

Bucky rested a hand on my back.

“We’re right here.”

“I don’t—” My throat tightened. “What if I can’t do it?”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Steve said. “You just have to sit. That’s enough.”

I nodded.

Just once.

And stood.

My legs didn’t feel like they belonged to me.

But I walked through the door anyway.

The office was soft.

That was the only word I had for it.

Soft lighting. Soft chairs. Soft colors on the wall.

The woman inside—Dr. Morgan—didn’t stand. Didn’t reach out. Didn’t make me shake her hand.

She just gestured to the couch and said, “Wherever you’re comfortable.”

I sat down slowly.

Hands in my lap.

Eyes on the window.

“I’m not going to ask you to tell me your story,” she said after a while. “Not today.”

I didn’t answer.

But something in my chest shifted.

She smiled.

“Sometimes the hardest part is showing up.”

I didn’t cry.

But I wanted to.

We didn’t talk about everything.

We didn’t talk about much.

But I told her my name.

I told her that I didn’t sleep well.

I told her that sometimes I feel like I’m still stuck in a room with no doors.

And she didn’t try to fix it.

She just nodded.

Listened.

Let the silence sit when I needed it to.

When the session ended, I felt like I’d run a marathon.

My hands were sore from clenching.

My chest hurt from holding my breath.

But when I walked back into the waiting room—

They were still there.

Steve, looking up with eyes full of warmth.

Bucky, standing as soon as he saw me.

Like I was something they’d been waiting for.

Something worth waiting for.

They didn’t say, How did it go?

They didn’t ask, Did you cry?

They just stepped close.

And let me lean between them.

In the car, Bucky turned on the music without saying a word.

Steve passed me the hoodie I’d left behind.

And I held it in my lap the whole way home.

That night, I didn’t say anything at dinner.

But Steve reached across the table and tapped his knuckles gently against mine.

Bucky left a tiny white stone on my pillow.

And when I went to bed that night, I didn’t stare at the ceiling.

I closed my eyes.

And whispered, just once—

“They stayed.”

Masterlist

Request

[princessconsuela120]

☾ Padfoot vs Prongs ☾

— ☾

Summary: A pregnancy in 7th year isn't exactly ideal...neither is your best friend and brothers annoying antics.

Warnings: pregnancy, fluff

Author's Note: just a shorty drabble i had sitting in my drafts. ill be posting requests soon!

— ☾

“Whisky!” James shouted, barreling into the room with Sirius a close foot behind. You rolled your eyes at the nickname, looking up from the book that had been occupying you for the past half hour. Ever since the boys had discovered your animagus was a cat, your brother James had deemed you the nickname Whiskers. Ironic that Fire Whisky had also been your favorite and dearly missed drink since the start of your pregnancy.

“Can I help you bozos?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at the two boys who had wide smiles adorning their faces.

“Who has better hair, me or Padfoot.” James asked, causing you to roll your eyes.

“I’m not doing this you guys.” You replied quickly, shifting in your spot as the boys appeared from behind the couch.

“Come on just tell us.” James asked, stomping his foot slightly like a child.

“I said I’m not doing this, where’s Moony he needs to help me up.” You grumbled, still trying to get up from your spot and failing.

“He’s out.” Sirius said, a smirk on his face as you groaned, rolling your eyes.

“And you can’t get up and walk away without our help so, answer the question.” James teased, making you groan even louder, throwing your head back with frustration.

“I hate you both.” You hissed, making James hold his Chet with fake hurt as Sirius smirked.

“We love you too. But that wasn’t the question.” Sirius said, causing you to hold your hands out with anger,

“Please just help me up.” You mumbled, struggling to stand with your large bump in the way.

“No.” 

“Oh come on.” You whined, flailing around slightly with frustration.

“Not until you answer us.”

“I am not answering you, this is ridiculous!” You shouted, letting your head fall back angrily, as the door gently swung open, catching everyone’s attention. Your face couldn’t help but light up with a smile when your boyfriend, Remus, appeared at the doorway, his hands full of bags from Hogsmead.

“Okay, I’ve brought you the new chocolates from Hogsmeade. Not only are they delicious but Honeydukes swears by it’s healing power.” He explained, walking over to hand you a box.

“Remus, thank god, come help me up.” You said eagerly, before Remus shook his head.

“Nope.” He said quickly, sitting beside you. You stared at him for a moment in shock.

“What?” “Ha!”

You and the boys yelled in unison, causing Remus to sigh.

“Sorry love, but you’re on bed rest. Can’t risk hurting you or our little moon.” Remus explained, rubbing your bump gently with a kind smile on his face. You couldn’t even be mad at the sweetness of it.

“This is a travesty.” You sighed, burying your face in his shoulder.

“Perfect, now you can’t move, and you need to answer our question.” Sirius teased, causing Remus to perk up slightly with interest.

“What’s the question?” He asked, making James smile proudly.

“Which one of us has the better hair, me or Padfoot?” He asked.

Remus turned to face you, a nervous look on his face as you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Alright come on, to the common room we go.” Remus said, helping you get up as you cheered to yourself.

“Hey!”

“She just didn’t wanna hurt your feelings cause you’re her best friend.” James said angrily, shaking his head as Sirius shoved him.

“You’re her brother! She’d wanna protect your feelings more!” He argued, before you appeared quickly in the doorway.

“For the record, the answer was Padfoot.” You said quickly, before gesturing to Remus to hurry up and help you out the room.

“Hey!” James shouted, about to come run after you before he noticed you had taken his invisibility cloak from his desk.

“Yes!” Sirius cheered, looking at himself in your mirror proudly, shaping his face, and his ego.

[peonysgreenhouse]

moments of normalcy. (tim stoker x reader)

summary: you regret not going with tim to malaysia. (tim stoker x gn!reader)

tags: 1.1k words, spoilers for season 3 of tma, angst/longing, suggestive content.

It's late when you walk into the recording room, checking to see if anyone is still in the Archives. You can’t help it, it’s an old habit, one leftover from when things seemed slower, more quiet. When the only thing to worry about was deadlines or Jon’s ruffled feathers.

You’re a little surprised when you see a tall silhouette in the dark recording room, hands full of messily sorted files, so focused on reading that he doesn’t notice you enter. You can’t help but watch him for a moment, wondering if you should leave him be or if you should let yourself be known.

No, you couldn’t keep running from this, you think. You can almost feel him slipping through your fingers, your best friend, your once lover, twisted into an angry husk of what he had once been. If you didn’t make the first move here, he might push you out of arm’s length forever. 

So you call his name, softly, like you once did, with gentle fingers combing through his hair to wake him up. Tim tenses when he hears your voice.

“Oh, it’s you.” Tim says, sighing quietly. He runs a hand through his dark hair. It was longer than you had ever seen him grow it before. “Why are you still here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” You answer, firmly. You step further into the recording room, the darkness making you feel a little uneasy. “You’re not one to stay late.”

Tim throws the files in his hands down on the desk. “Yeah, well, if I’m going to be stuck in this shithole forever, there’s no need to work overtime, is there?” He jokes, but it sounds hollow. “I was about to leave, anyways.”

You don’t know what to say, the silence that stretches between the both of you nearly unbearable. You change the subject, voice sounding a little raw. “How was Malaysia? I... You’re back sooner than expected.”

“Yeah, well it wasn’t by choice.” Tim lets out a short laugh. “After the first few days there I got sick... and I just couldn’t stop thinking about coming back.”

Perhaps a month ago you would’ve been more startled by his words. But now? You believe him. It doesn’t make the revelation any less frightening. You nod, letting out a shaky breath as you do. You try to compartmentalize his words, like you do with every other horror you’ve experienced here; boxed up in the recesses of your mind like a statement in the Archives.

"...Are you upset I didn’t go with you?" You ask, quietly, watching as he leans over the desk, head tilted down, hands flat on the desk. 

"Why would I be upset?" He answers, an edge to his voice. "You just would have gotten sick too."

"I know, but..." You pause, the words feeling sticky in your throat. You didn’t want to set him off. "We could have had a couple of moments to ourselves, right? Maybe a day or two where we could pretend things are normal."

Tim scoffs, bitter. "You sound like Martin." He says, pushing himself up and turning to look at you. He looks so very tired; so much older than he did just a few long months ago. "What's the point in pretending? It doesn’t change the reality of our shitty situation.”

You let out a sigh. "The point is that I miss you." You take a step closer, watching as he leans back on Jon's desk. Your pulse thrums harder in response to your admission, though Tim remains unreadable. "We could have... I don’t know, gone to the beach? Laid out in the sun... Or we could’ve gone out dancing, like we used to do.” You say, the words sounding a bit silly, even to you. 

Tim just tilts his head back, letting out a long-suffering sigh. There’s something like grief that passes through his dark eyes, but it’s gone after only a moment. You try to hang onto that; you didn’t want to push too hard at his wounds, but cuts would never heal without first being aired out. 

“I’m sorry I’m no fun for you anymore.” He says, bitterness dripping from his tone. “I don’t know how you can be so chipper, after everything.”

“Just because I don’t walk around acting miserable doesn’t mean I’m not!” You protest. If he wasn’t so dismissive of your feelings, maybe he would realize you were both stuck in the same miserable boat. “We’re both suffering, Tim, I just...” You shake your head. “I just thought it would be nice to have a few days of normalcy with you. I’m sorry I missed out on that.”

Tim is quiet for a moment before he speaks again. “I am too.” 

"Maybe... maybe I can't have a lifetime with you, or even two days but..." You say, quietly, the admission weighing heavy on your shoulders. "What about a few hours? A few hours of normalcy, doesn’t that sound nice?" 

The room goes quiet, and it's only then you realize that the tape recorder is still on, humming indifferently. You turn to turn the accursed thing off, but it’s then Tim closes the gap between you, thumb stroking longingly over your cheek; your skin sings at the gentle contact. Yes, you have missed this, you think. 

"A few hours..." Tim looks at you as if he is seeing a ghost. He sounds breathless when he responds, “Ah, why the hell not?”

Tim pushes you back gently against a row of filing cabinets, and you sigh as his lips find your neck; open-mouthed, hungry, like how a fire licks its way up a dry forest. You feel devoured just the same. His tongue finds yours and you lean into the kiss, balling your fists into his rumpled collared shirt.

You pull back, breathless and grinning for the first time in a long while. “Tim, the tape recorder’s still on.”

Tim groans, muttering a few curses under his breath before he shoves the thing off the desk, moving to take its place.

Whatever happened in the next few moments would be only for the two of you to know. 

[quietlyimplode]

ignite your bones

After the fall of General Dreykov, and the remnants of the Red Room still at large, Natasha first year at SHIELD is anything but healing. Labeled a traitor and a turncoat, Natasha tries to find her footing in a strange new world.

Whumptober 2024: Day 2 - Trust Issues

Warnings: food hoarding

Word Count: 1.5k (gif not mine)

Summary: Maria and Clint talk about Natasha. Clint realizes that bringing in a black widow may not be as easy as he thinks.

Masterlist

Whumptober Masterlist

.

Clint yawns.

Maria throws a book at him and groans.

“I’m so bored,” he complains. “How do you do this?”

“That’s what you get, for bringing a stray home,” she rolls her eyes and throws her pen at him.

“They can’t keep me grounded forever right?”

Maria shrugs, “Ask Coulson.”

Clint throws them back at her and glances at the clock.

“I should probably go,” he sighs.

“Pick up time?”

He bows, “I am the chauffeur, am I not?”

“She’s not eating,” Maria tells him as Clint starts to walk away.

“What?”

He turns and eyes her closely.

“She doesn’t eat the food, haven’t you noticed? Not unless it’s packaged or clear liquid.”

She pauses.

“I don’t know what she does eat, have you been giving her food?”

Clint shakes his head.

“Only the occasional granola bar when I’ve eaten one?”

He pauses. “How do you know?”

Maria pauses.

“She’s been here two weeks, what has she been eating?”

“How do you know?”

Looking around, Maria opens the surveillance program on her computer, and rewinds to breakfast.

“Don’t tell Coulson I’m showing you this,” she growls.

Clint looks forward with interest, feeling voyeuristic at watching her.

He knew they’d be surveilling her, but had underestimated just how closely.

It seems stupid in hindsight.

The breakfast is delivered.

The blue tray pushed through a small opening on the floor, and Clint feels angry at how just like prison this must feel for her.

Natasha approaches it, and squats to look at the food.

She inspects the apple, and places it on the bed away from the other food. The scrambled eggs, she touches as though she’s looking for something; pressing them down; then looks at the juice box and places it next to the apple.

The tray gets pushed back, the rest of the cooked food untouched, and, after a moment, taken away.

“Breakfast she eats the most, or takes the most from, I guess.”

Clint keeps watching, but she doesn’t eat. The juice box gets drunk slowly, but the apple is placed inside the small side table drawer.

He glimpses one of the granola bars he’d given her, and he feels like an idiot for not noticing.

“Talk to her about it?”

He nods.

“Why’d you tell me? You don’t even like her?”

Maria looks at him, annoyed at the look.

“Just because I like her, doesn’t mean I want her dead.”

He looks away from the computer, Maria turning the program off.

“Clint, she’s not okay, traumatized black widows; don’t you think you’re out of your depth?”

He takes the criticism and thinks about Natasha’s face as he’d offered her a lifeline. The way she looked so sad and resigned to her fate, and the run and hide through Berlin.

“I’m all she’s got,” he shrugs.

Maria shakes her head, but says nothing.

“I’ve gotta go. I’ll chat to you later?”

He leaves without the response, mulling on her words, wondering just how hard this was going to be.

.

Clint waits, just as he promised as the door opens as Natasha steps out.

“I’ll see you in two days,” Olivia tells both the receptionist and Natasha at the door.

The receptionist nods, and gives Clint a smile, ignoring Natasha as she steps out and forward.

“Sorry,” Clint says ruefully, taking the handcuffs from Olivia.

Natasha holds her hands up, face blank, eyes glazed.

They step in line with each other, the walk back to the glass prison punctuated with Clint’s quiet words.

“I feel like you look when I walk out of therapy. Did it go okay?”

He pauses, “you don’t have to answer that.”

When there’s no words, he decides to continue talking.

He knows she doesn’t trust them; any of them. He really wants to know what she talks about in therapy. If she says anything at all or if Olivia just talks to her.

He wonders idly if he needs to talk to someone too.

Probably.

The last couple of months have been… intense, for lack of a better word and he wonders if, like Maria had said, he was out of his depth.

It was not the first time he thought it.

Natasha’s despondency was affecting him.

What did he know about defectors and a traumatised super spy?

He just didn’t want her to die.

Not by his hand, or her own.

“I like her though,” he continues.

“Give her a chance, if you can. She’s… not unlike you, in her background and maybe can help? She’s there to help.”

He mulls on his own words as he leads her a different way back. He’s right.

If anyone can help her; Olivia can.

Determined to show her a different part of the complex, they go through the kitchens, and Clint picks up two apples, throwing her one and then crunching onto the other.

It gives him time to think.

He’s going to need to touch base with Olivia, make sure that she is interacting, doing what was promised.

He could ask her what he should be doing too; for her, for himself.

Clint leads the way back with practiced ease, the silence allowing him to think.

As they enter the first round of checks, he smiles easily to the straight faced guards; then as they get deeper to the third and forth stations, it’s just Clint’s badge letting them in.

It seems to bolster Natasha, the less people around, she matches his steps and bites the apple. At the noise, Clint turns and smiles.

“You don’t eat much,” he observes.

Natasha shrugs and takes another bite.

He laughs at her sass.

“Do you not like the food?”

Natasha looks down.

He feels a little mean, talking about this after she’s just had 90 minutes of therapy.

He’s sure the sessions are not the easiest, and he can see the slight tremor in her hands, despite her trying to mask it by holding onto the apple.

They reach her cell and she steps inside the glass, holding her wrists out for him to release them.

He does.

Taking the cuffs away and pushing them into his pocket.

“Just think about it, okay? If there’s food you want or prefer, just tell me? I can help.”

Natasha looks at her feet and takes two steps back, the door closing and the glass sealing shut.

.

Despite her better judgement, Natasha continues to eat the apple. The constant hunger makes her feel on edge sometimes.

She’s so used to it, that until Clint had said something, she hadn’t given it much thought.

Sitting on the bed, legs crossed, she chews on it and thinks.

Therapy had been tough.

Though not for the first time, Olivia had called her out on things that she shouldn’t know.

Details about the Red Room that only the guards, the officers or widows knew, inner workings of the KGB and Red Room procedures like the trial of the silent knife and graduation.

And whilst Natasha hadn’t had another panic attack, it had been close.

The push to talk and baiting was tempting.

How did she know?

She knew she’d eventually have to talk, but for now, whilst she could hold onto her silence, she wanted to keep it.

It was the only control she had.

Her mind feels like a minefield.

Sometimes, she feels like once she starts talking, she’ll never stop; but the years of self preservation wouldn’t let her.

She sorts the known information, finishing the apple and swallowing slowly, closing her eyes on the onslaught of images and thoughts.

It takes her a moment to let the memory of the silent knife trial pass. The blood on her hands feeling so visceral and real she opens and closes her eyes just to check.

She breathes.

In.

Holds it.

And out.

It has become the easiest thing to do after therapy. To think and sort through all the things that were said, disclosed and asked of her.

After a day like today where she had had to do both debriefing and therapy, she knew that nightmares would be inevitable.

She just hoped that whoever was watching the cameras tonight was sleeping on the job.

Natasha breathes slowly again.

Starting with the image that comes first, she focuses as best she can on sorting real from not real. What they had said, what she had disclosed, information that still was secret and that which had become known.

They were still only on major players of the organisation; those that she knew had ties into the western world. People she had been sent after, political agendas. It was far easier to talk about than herself, though she had a feeling that was coming.

Her mind flashes to Dreykov and she bites the inside of her cheek, drawing blood.

Real or not real.

She tries to ground herself in this moment.

She didn’t trust them.

They knew too much.

She’d told them too much.

There was no going back now.

Natasha thinks of Maria again.

Always an ending thought.

The divulgence of knowing her birthdate.

Information known by a select few but, perhaps also could be found from intel files. It means that somewhere here there’s more intel on her; prior to her coming here.

What she wouldn’t give for that file.

Therapy conversations had given her pause.

It was difficult to think about without her mind flashing back; and she didn’t want to.

Not here.

Not now.

There’s a file on her.

And she wants it.

.

<3

[lilithlounge]

Hi! I saw you answering asks on Lilith placements. If it's possible can you tell me what it means to have Pisces Lilith at 22° in the 9th house? It is conjunct sun and moon, square Pluto and trine my ascendant. (I am a woman btw). Thanks in advance ❤️ have a great day 💐

Hii gorgeous! First of all, I’m obsessed. Second of all, you ARE the fantasy. The line between reality and dreams, you blurred it, sprinkled glitter on it, and walked away. Let’s break this magic down:

Lilith in Pisces 22° – The Mystical Seductress

Lilith in Pisces is like a soft whisper that lingers, hypnotizes, and then disappears, leaving people questioning everything they thought they knew. At 22°, a master number, you carry old soul energy with a knack for navigating dreams, illusions, and spiritual truths. You’re alluring without trying, and people project their wildest fantasies onto you but they have no idea who you really are. In the 9th House, you are the spiritual siren who doesn’t stay put mentally, emotionally, or physically. You crave freedom, higher meaning, and cosmic truth. You can seduce with your mind and attract lovers with your philosophy, your art, or your late-night existential convos. You’re like “let’s make love and then discuss the meaning of life.” Iconic.

Conjunct Sun & Moon, this is the main character energy. Your core identity (Sun) and emotional world (Moon) are infused with Lilith’s wild, untamed energy. You’re someone who won’t be boxed in, controlled, or dimmed, and you naturally disrupt expectations just by existing. People feel both enchanted and unnerved by you. It’s giving “she’s dangerous, but I can’t look away.”

Square Pluto, you scare people a little. Sorry not sorry. You have intense, transformative energy and you don’t do surface-level anything. Your power is magnetic, dark, and healing, but people who aren’t ready to face themselves? They’ll run, trip, and fall. You’ve got karmic attraction vibes. Love feels like fate, obsession, and rebirth.

Trine Ascendant, that’s effortless magnetism. You radiate Lilith. People see it in your aura, the mystery, the allure, the vibe of “I know things and I’ll never tell.” You attract attention effortlessly and don’t have to do a thing just show up and breathe, bestie.

I saaaay that you’re mystical, magnetic, and slightly untouchable. People are drawn in by your energy, but you’re not here to be claimed you’re here to explore, evolve, and inspire awe. Your love life is probably a blend of romantic poetry, psychic dreams, and past-life connections that leave people shook.

Thank you for this divine ask, you’re living in your main character fantasy, and I love that for you. Have the most magical day 💖💐✨.

[giveamadeuschohisownmovie]

After doing some thinking on this, I think the most interesting movie in the Creed-Rocky universe is “Creed II”:

While most of the movies in the franchise are good, Creed II fascinates me since it’s actually different in how it approaches the main conflict. Most of the movies follow the same formula of underdog boxer must triumph over superior opponent, while Creed II feels more focused on the behind-the-scenes drama and history.

This movie could’ve easily just been a revenge story. Adonis wants to avenge his dad, so he beats up the son of his dad’s killer. However, it feels like the writers of the movie wanted to dig deeper into this. While the revenge story would be simpler and more theatrical, Creed II instead asks the audience how this would be realistically.

And the answer is…really sad, actually.

You’d think that Adonis would be at Kill Bill-levels of vengeful, but he’s not. Instead, he’s more frustrated by how he’s expected to want to avenge his father. He just became world champion and yet the media is only talking about him fighting Viktor Drago. Even Donnie admits you can’t talk about the Creeds without talking about the Dragos. Sure, he does resent Ivan, of course he would. But he doesn’t have a beef with Viktor, and it shows.

Viktor wasn’t doing any better. Although he was trash talking Donnie, you can tell how frustrated he was with how he was being used to “restore” Ivan’s honor. He hated how the Russian leaders, especially his mother, were only treating him and his father well after he started winning in the ring. None of it felt genuine, it’s like he was just a racehorse to them.

When you look at Donnie and Viktor’s arcs as a whole, it’s fascinating just how the arcs work as an overall discussion on legacy. Legacy ends up being the true villain of the movie:

1) Donnie can’t establish his own legacy since he’s chained to his father’s legacy. Even though he has the belt, no one cared. They just wanted the spiritual successor to Apollo vs. Ivan.

2) Viktor was literally raised in hardship because of what happened to his father in the 1980s. Then, he realized he was being used as a way to restore his father’s legacy, which disgusted him.

3) For both Adonis and Viktor, neither of them harbored any actual hate to each other. Any feelings of resentment came solely from their fathers’ actions.

4) Rocky wouldn’t even put up pictures of his fight with Ivan, which makes sense since there wasn’t anything uplifting about that match. Sure, he ended the Cold War (lol) but it doesn’t change the fact that the fight was about vengeance.

5) Ivan was so traumatized by his defeat that he felt like he deserved his exiling. Exiled…for losing a damn boxing match. It took nearly losing his son in the ring for him to realize that reclaiming his lost glory was not worth it.

The end fight is, in my opinion, the most interesting showdown in the franchise. Instead of feeling like a battle between a hero and a villain, it felt more…therapeutic? It’s like Donnie and Viktor knew that they couldn’t move forward with their lives until they got this fight over with, so that’s what they do. You can tell there’s a feeling of relief on both ends once the fight finishes since Donnie got the win over Viktor (thus ending the media’s obsession over a Creed-Drago revenge match) and Ivan affirmed to Viktor that he’ll always have his father’s love.

I should note that there’s a deleted scene (it shouldn’t have been!) where Donnie, Viktor, and Ivan all make peace with each other. I feel like that was the point of making this sequel. It’s not a revenge story like what most people thought, it’s a story of healing, past trauma, generational conflict, and moving on from the past. That’s also why Creed III is a brilliant follow-up since, for the first time in the Creed series, it’s a movie that’s about Donnie’s legacy, not Apollo or Rocky’s.

Basically, Creed II treated the fight between the sons of Apollo and Ivan as an obligation that needed to be fulfilled. It’s funny since that actually works as meta commentary on the audience since that was what a lot of people wanted to see when the first Creed movie was announced. Once that obligation was finished, Donnie and Viktor were able to move on with their lives and establish their own legacies, as seen in Creed III.

And that’s kinda beautiful.