#I feel like a madman ranting to the sky but that’s okay

[spineless-lobster]

Alright I am done silencing myself and I am here to come out as a proud patcapvers shipper okay the captain has TWO hands and TWO holes and TWO LOVELY MEN who can be his forever there are NO downsides to this!!!

They’re literally the perfect outdoorsy polycule cap infodumps about birds, pat sets up all the camping stuff and havers goes on and on about plants do you see my vision?!

They all cuddle on the bed watching campy 80s movies movies together okay they know all the lines and the quote them to each other

Havers bakes, pat cooks and the captain cleans they live in a cute little house at the end of the street they have a cat named blondie they sing and dance to ABBA together DO YOU HEAR ME?! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!?!?

And you bet your ass pat and havers are kissing sloppy style to there’s no reason why they shouldn’t, why put two bad bitches against each other when they should kiss???

*I am dragged away by two men in lab coats as I continue to yell*

(Thank you so much to anon for reminding me that I feel very passionate about this)

[stelliyue-cafe]

╰┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄╮

꒰🕰꒱ [ 𝐓𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞 ] Another Chance

꒰📦꒱ [ 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ] On your final adventure together, the TARDIS landed where it all started. Perhaps this time, the Doctor would be given another chance.

꒰☕️꒱ [ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫/𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ] 12th Doctor x Fem! Reader

꒰📔꒱ [ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ] Angst, lol. Swearing. This hasn't been edited since I last posted it in 2020.

꒰🌟꒱ [ 𝐌𝐞𝐢’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ] A repost from an olddd blog. The beginning is the ending from the "Kill the Moon" episode but at a different time and moon. The ending kind of gives off "The End of Time Part 2" vibes. I just wanted more 12th Doctor fanfics. I love my angry Scotsman XD

"I nearly didn't press that button. I nearly got it wrong. That was you, the one I-" (Y/N) paused, "my dearest friend, making me scared. Making me feel like a bloody idiot."

"Language," The Doctor scolded.

"Oh, don't you ever tell me to mind my language. And don't you dare lump me in with the rest of the little humans that you think are so silly and predictable. You walk our Earth, you breathe our air. You make us your friend. You make us trust you- love you even. So that is your moon too. And you can damn well help us when we need it." She ranted.

"I was helping." He said quietly.

"What, by clearing off?"

"Yes."

"Yeah? Then clear off!" Her voice echoed. "Go on. You can clear off. Get back in your lonely- your lonely bloody TARDIS and you don't come back."

The Doctor and (Y/N) stared at each other, the tension high. "(Y/N)-" He said in a hushed tone.

She ignored him and walked towards the TARDIS doors. He quickly followed her, "(Y/N)!" The Doctor said more assertively. With his arm stretched out, he caught hold of her wrist to which she turned around and stared at their hands.

'In another situation, I would've been over the moon.' She thought. The warm feeling of someone's palm cradling her cheek broke her away from her thoughts. Slightly shaking her head, the Doctor set his hand down to his side. She looked up to meet his gaze. His eyes told stories of the universe, yet held more mysteries than gave answers. These were the eyes that belonged to someone she'd learned to love.

"You go away, okay? You go a long way away," (Y/N) said bitterly, removing her wrist from his grasp. She turned and continued her way to the door, slamming it behind her when she exited the TARDIS.

━━━━━━•✦.✧.☾.✧.✦•━━━━━

The TARDIS materialized in a forest near a building structure. The surrounding area was a pleasant setting. People were walking and talking, kids playing on the streets and a lovely autumn breeze was passing through. The Doctor stepped out with (Y/N) following after him. It was around noon, but due to the autumn weather, the sky was sort of cloudy.

“Huh, I was hoping for something more exciting… like the Orient Express.” He muttered, rubbing his hands together.

(Y/N) looked around. Her eyes started to tear up as she felt a wave of nostalgia sweep over her. This was the library near the orphanage where she grew up. That library was where her thirst for knowledge and love for writing emerged. This was where a woman told her a story about a madman who traveled through time and space, all alone in his blue box-

“Why are we here?” The Doctor asked, his eyes surveying the area.

She sniffed and wiped the tear falling down her cheek, “The TARDIS takes us to where we need to be, remember?”

His eyebrows furrowed, “Seems so... ordinary.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, “Come on, we need to head over to that building.” She said walking past him and heading over to the library.

“What? Why?” He asked as he walked briskly to catch up with her.

━━━━━━•✦.✧.☾.✧.✦•━━━━━

Shifting in the storyteller’s chair, she thought of all the stories she was going to tell the children. “Gather around children. Let me tell you about a madman who travels throughout time and space in his ancient blue box.” (Y/N) said as the children sat down in front of her, the Doctor sitting in the back of the crowd but still listening.

“Here… let me tell you a story about one of his adventures…” She tapped the bottom of her chin playfully. “Hm… Let me tell you about the Fires of Pompeii!” She said quietly, yet still in an exciting way. The group of children stared up at her in awe as her storytelling skills were theatrical and very engaging.

She mimicked an old conversation between the Doctor and one of his companions, “What? You’re in charge?” (Y/N) said in a harsh tone, looking up at the imaginary Doctor.

She stepped to the opposite side, “TARDIS. Time Lord. Yeah!” She said, acting out the Doctor’s actions and movements.

(Y/N) hopped back to her original place, “Donna. Human. No!” She sassed.

A rupture of soft laughs and giggles filled the storytelling area as she continued to tell the story of how this Time Lord caused Mount Vesuvius to erupt. (Y/N) continued to tell the stories of the Doctor’s adventures and though he would never admit it- he adored the way she was able to make any story interesting. So there he sat, behind the children, until he couldn’t anymore since he needed to stretch his legs.

As she settled down, The Doctor was now leaning against the bookshelf behind her. She started, “As you can see, he’s saved many lives, planets, and universes, but what he didn’t expect was to fall in love somewhere in between all his heroic deeds-”

“Don’t try to paint me as some love-sick hero, (Y/N).” He said, interrupting her sentence.

This caused her to look back and glare at him, “I’m telling the story.”

The Doctor sighed and sat down next to her. Though he lived through these adventures, he wanted to know what it sounded like from the other perspective. He wanted to know what it sounded like to travel alongside the Doctor.

(Y/N) cleared her throat and turned her attention back to the children, “As I said earlier, this man had many companions. All of them were beautiful and brilliant in their own way, but in the end, he traveled alone.”

“Why? What happened to them? The companions?” A girl asked.

Her eyes looked straight in the girl’s direction and smiled. (Y/N) knew that face anywhere- it was her as a kid. ‘How’s that for changing your personal history, eh, Doctor?’

She hummed, glancing over at the Doctor. His face was stoic, but his eyes told a different story. “They left,” She looked back at the children, “Because they should. Or they find someone else. And some of them… some of them forget him.” A pause.

“What were their names?”

“Maybe we can find them and tell them to travel with him again!”

“Yeah! So he won’t be so lonely anymore!”

(Y/N) smiled, “I don’t know all of his companions or their real names, but I could name a few. There was… Bad Wolf girl, the tech guy, the time travel captain, the medical doctor, the girl who wanted to see the stars, the runaway bride, the old man who watched over him, the girl who waited, the last centurion, the love of his life, and the impossible girl. But there was one companion who saw him through it all,” She paused.

“Thing is, I-” This Freudian slip caused the Doctor to pay closer attention to her words. “I mean, she was his companion before the impossible girl. She was there before he married and lost the love of his life. And she was there even before Bad Wolf girl.”

(Y/N) let out a sigh, “Ten years of her life spent traveling with the madman and all his other companions. Though it took her a while to realize it, she fell in love with him.” Scattered gasps suddenly filled the silence.

The Doctor’s gaze was fully on (Y/N). ‘She loves me…? No… That can’t be. She deserves so much more than this… She deserves so much more than me.��

“She loved him so much that she watched him fall in and out of love with others. Love makes you do reckless things… And sometimes at the expense of your own happiness.” (Y/N) explained. “She loved him so much that she had to leave him and let him go.” She trailed off, feeling her eyes start to water.

A small gasp escaped the Doctor’s lips. That story was her goodbye. He thought that he would be able to see her- to at least pop in for a visit- but no, she was going to leave. His hearts wanted nothing more than to take her hand and run. Run away and keep on running to another adventure. Anything to make her stay, but he decided against it.

“What happened next?” A child asked.

“He did what he did best...” (Y/N) paused for effect, causing the children to lean forward. The Doctor copied their actions. Of course, he knew the answer but listened anyway. “He hopped into his ancient blue box and ran.”

Mrs. Anderson, the librarian, cleared her throat, “Alright children, storytime is over.” Soft whines and groans erupted from the children. “Come on, off you pop.” Mrs. Anderson said, ushering the children toward their parents. She glanced back to (Y/N) and the Doctor, “Thank you for filling in for our usual storyteller.”

(Y/N) smiled, wiping her eyes, “It was no problem. Thank you for having us.”

“Alright, we should get going.” The Doctor said quickly, before exiting the room. (Y/N) followed before she was stopped at the front door.

“Miss! Wait!” The mini-(Y/N) whispered, walking quickly.

(Y/N) nodded and squatted down to her level, “Yes, dear?”

“This story... is it real?” She asked, in between breaths.

(Y/N) let out a small laugh and smiled, “Stories are where memories go when they’re forgotten.” She said, ruffling her hair before leaving the library.

The Doctor and (Y/N) walked back to the TARDIS. (Y/N) poked her head out the door and winked at the mini-(Y/N) who was still standing by the door. The girl smiled before running back inside.

━━━━━━•✦.✧.☾.✧.✦•━━━━━

The pregnant silence that was in the TARDIS when it landed was the longest the two ever shared. Usually, the two would commence in playful banter. Clara was their mediator and always helped to fill the silence with her laughter, but not this time. This was an issue for the Doctor and (Y/N) to solve on their own.

“I’m sorry for making you play God, (Y/N).” The Doctor said quietly, running his fingers along the console.

“I know you’re sorry. I’ve forgiven you so many times. Doctor... take me home.” (Y/N) replied, her back facing him.

“(Y/N), I can fix this. Just don’t leave. You’ve been there since-“

“Yes! I know I’ve been there! I literally just told a bunch of children about how I felt about you!” (Y/N) cried out, flailing her arms to emphasize her point.

“(Y/N), I-“

“Don’t. You. Dare.” (Y/N) turned to face the Doctor, tears already running down her face. “You don’t get to do this to me. Not here and most certainly not now. Doctor, please let me go home...”

The Doctor, emotionally defeated, gestured to the doors, “We were here before we started talking.” There was nothing he could do to prevent his companion from leaving. She had been running with him ever since their first encounter and now it was time for (Y/N) to break his hearts just as he broke hers.

‘Let me be brave...’ She repeated in her head as she walked toward the doors. (Y/N) opened it and saw that the TARDIS had landed in her bedroom. She looked over her shoulder, “Doctor?”

He looked up at her, his eyes pleading, ‘Stay… ’. “Yes?” He asked.

“I will always remember when your companion was me.” She said, her voice cracking at the end. (Y/N) smiled at him before leaving the TARDIS, shutting the door behind her.

━━━━━━•✦.✧.☾.✧.✦•━━━━━

The Doctor and Clara walked out of the TARDIS to see that they landed in an empty alleyway on Christmas Eve- evidence being the excessive amount of lights and caroling. All seemed normal, but it was quiet... too quiet for the Doctor’s liking.

That’s when a chorus of screams and moans of injured people echoed through the streets. The sound of lasers being shot could also be heard. A woman ran past the alleyway until she was shot down by a laser beam. The Doctor smiled, “Ah, now that’s more like it!”

Clara scoffed, “Doctor, now is not the time to be smiling! We need to help these people!”

“Yes, right.” He said before grabbing Clara’s hand, starting to run out of the alleyway. As they exited the alleyway, a woman had bumped into the Doctor. The woman shook her head then rubbed the shoulder that bumped into the Doctor, “Sorry about that!”

The Doctor looked at her in shock. He couldn’t believe it was (Y/N). Clara gave a soft nudge to wake the Doctor from this trance. “No, it��s quite... alright...”

“Doctor, those are Cybermen... right?” Clara whispered.

He was about to grab (Y/N)’s hand and run, ‘Like old times...’

Suddenly, a man with a leather jacket, big ears, and blue eyes bumped into (Y/N), “Blimey, I’m just a magnet for collisions today...” She said, rubbing her other arm. The new stranger grabbed (Y/N)’s hand, starting to run away from the Doctor and Clara.

They managed about five steps before (Y/N) quickly tugged on the stranger’s hand and looked at him confused, “Who are you?”

The Doctor’s ninth regeneration looked at (Y/N), “I’m the Doctor.”

Clara gasped, finally realizing where they landed, “Doctor this is where you first met (Y/N), right?”

The Doctor turned his head halfway towards Clara and nodded, still keeping his eyes on the scene that was playing in front of him. “The leather was a mistake...” He mumbled.

Instead of understanding, she looked more confused, “I’m sorry. Doctor who...?”

He knew what he had to do, “Doctor!” The Doctor called out to his ninth regeneration. The Doctor’s ninth regeneration looked at the old man and his companion. “Doctor, this one is special. Don’t let this one go.” Nine gave a curt nod. He didn’t know why he could trust the old man, but he just knew he could.

(Y/N) waved their hand in front of the Ninth Doctor’s face, “Hello? Doctor?”

“Yes?” The Doctor and the Ninth regeneration said in unison. A laser beam had missed them by a few feet and ended up hitting a car, “Ah, right,”

“You still never answered my question! Doctor who?”

The Ninth Doctor chuckled, “Exactly. Now run!” He said before taking (Y/N)’s hand in his and running away from the scene.

━━━━━━•✦ Bonus ✦•━━━━━

The Doctor and Clara watched his ninth regeneration and (Y/N) run off in the distance. A small smile was present on his face and Clara caught it.

“Doctor? Were you- Is that a smile I see?” Clara teased.

His smile was quickly replaced with a scowl. “What? No. I don’t smile.” He said crossing his arms over his chest.

Clara nudged him, “Don’t be like that. Admit it, you like her~”

The Doctor scoffed and made his way back to the TARDIS, “I don’t do feelings, Clara. That’s why I kept you and (Y/N) around. You were both my carers, so I don’t have to.”

Clara matched the Doctor’s pace, still carrying the conversation, “So what happens now? In our timeline, she left us.”

“I really can’t say for sure..”

They reached the TARDIS doors, both hesitant to enter. The Doctor rested his hand on the door, “I don’t know if I had changed anything.”

“Well,” She set her hand to the side of his, “There’s only one way for us to find out.”

“Clara, don’t get your hopes up-“

She interrupted him, by pushing the door. Her eyes looked around the console room, “(Y/N)?”

“See? We didn’t do much.” The Doctor said, walking in after her.

Clara pouted slightly, “I really thought you made a difference…”

The Doctor walked over to the console and started pulling levers and pressing buttons. His face remained emotionless, a little disappointed at the results. He wondered what happened between that moment and now that caused (Y/N) to not be there. ‘I thought I would be smart enough to listen to myself given the fact that I talk to myself all the time..’

A sudden echo from the top steps had caught their attention.

“Hey! Where have you been?! I leave you two alone for five minutes and when I get back there’s one less Scotsman and companion!” A woman’s voice scolded.

The Doctor and Clara look at the top of the stairs to see (Y/N) standing there, a tad bit angry.

Clara gasped, “(Y/N)! You’re here!”

(Y/N) walked down the stairs to join them on the main floor. “Of course, I’m here. Why wouldn’t I be- Oh!” She was interrupted by a tight hug. “Clara?” She questioned, looking down at the brunette.

“Shh, just enjoy it,” Clara said, hugging her a little tighter. (Y/N) smiled and returned the hug.

When Clara let go, there was an awkward silence between The Doctor and (Y/N). Clara looked back and forth between them and groaned in annoyance, “I’m not letting this happen again.” She said as she pushed the two closer together. “Now make up!”

(Y/N) looked up at the Doctor and blushed lightly. The Doctor, on the other hand, was sceptical. “Tell me something that only the real (Y/N) would know.”

She nodded and took a step closer to him. In response, he took a step back which only prompted (Y/N) to step even closer. She lifted her hand to cup his cheek. Though his mind fought against it, he leaned into her touch. It was always so warm and loving.

“To the universe, Doctor…?”

With those words, his hearts began to race. This was truly his (Y/N). And that moment was one of those rare times where he allowed himself to show his emotions. He let out a sigh of relief and hugged her. (Y/N) stood in shock for a moment before melting in his embrace, wrapping her arms around The Doctor she loved so much.

“Hey! For everyone else it’s “I’m not a hugging person” but when it’s (Y/N) you go all soft?” Clara teased.

The Doctor pulled away from the hug, now holding (Y/N) by her shoulders. Disregarding Clara’s comment, he looked at the woman who piqued his interests since he first met her. He smiled and leaned in close to kiss her forehead. He then looked down lovingly to see the (E/C) eyes that held her own galaxy.

“To the universe, (Y/N)... To the universe.”

stelliyue-cafe © 2022 | all content and its rights belong to me. please do not modify or repost.

[greytoiletpaper]

Out on Allen Street, it’s 7 in the Morning

Set in the same-ish street-siblings universe as First Contact by @cryptids-and-muses and @a-sketchy-character @streetsiblings (they’re still awesome). I present to you... Angst.

Drizzle | AO3 

Chapter 2: Deluge

Felipe Garzonas falls.

Jason cannot find it in himself to care. The man was human garbage at best-

A shriek of anguish rents the air, a woman's, while the stalking man pounces on her and bays with his manic glee.

-and they were just going to let him go? No dice. Jason did not push him off the edge, but it’s still satisfying enough for him to know the man is gone now.

It is here, on this rooftop, that Jason understands that the horrors of the world can never be contained, only controlled. In what ways, he isn’t sure yet, but when he thinks of killing, all he can imagine is a figure adorned in a red helmet, ruthless and proud.

When Bruce takes Jason away from the scene, long crimson snakes flow off Garzonas’ body with the deluge, painting the face of Gotham.

Cass believes Jay when he says he didn’t kill Garzonas. He can lie like the best of them, but he can never hide anything from her. Bruce still doesn’t believe him even when she says as much.

“You’re a danger to yourself and the people around you,” Bruce is saying. Cold is the only way that Cass can describe his body.

For as long as she has been with Bruce, Cass has not thought of David. But looking at him now, a small, insidious part of the man that projects the urge to control (something she had only seen from David) starts to slip through. She is so thrown about what to think that she almost misses him firing Jay as Robin.

“No.”

“But Cass-.”

“No.”

Jason resists the urge to groan at his sister. Above them, the three names of his potential mothers are displayed clearly and brightly.

“I get why you don’t want me to. But think of what will happen if we manage to bring one! We could- we could-.”

“My brother,” Cass says, with finality. She gestures to the names (although ‘Sandra Wu-san’ in particular catches both their eyes). “Not theirs.”

Cass makes that stance she always does when she wants him to stop, her back hunched and her eyes pleading. He hates it when she does that, which is why he bites back a sigh.

“Fine. I’ll leave it alone,” Cass has been trying harder to get her smile right. Her effort shows when she gives him a mega-watt grin when he relents.

“My family, love,” She says as she hugs him before leading him away to raid the freezer for Neapolitan.

Later that night, Jason leaves his copy of Huckleberry Finn on her nightstand. He has to make sure that she doesn't think he'd left her behind when he goes. As Jason leaves the window wide open, his sole companion is the rain for the first time in years.

Gotham feels it as it happens. As the madman clubs her boy over and over with his crowbar. She feels every bruise, every bone that fractures, every act of pure, unadulterated cruelty inflicted on Jason.

Her eldest cradles the body, surrounded by a field of debris and smoke left in the wake of the monster that is the Joker. She washes the blood away with her tears.

When Cassandra wakes to see her brother’s prized possession on her nightstand, she instantly knows and never lets it go, even as the sky opens up in time with her tears.

--

As the casket lowers into the earth, she absently notes no rain, not a cloud in sight. Somehow, in the void that is the Jason-shaped hole in her heart, she realises he would have hated it.

“I think… I want to have my burial when it rains. Gives a whole ‘nother meaning to bleary doesn’t it?” Jason had confessed that once, a slight chuckle drawing from his chest. It fades as fast as it came. He looked away, then. “I don’t think I’d rest in peace without it.”

Cassandra fills the silence with the hymns of her tears – droplets staining the well-loved pages of the last piece of her brother – and hopes that it will be enough.

In her mind, her efforts are for naught when they devolve into wails as the first shovelfuls of dirt encase the ebony coffin.

--

The first thing she sees when she enters the cave is- is the atrocious thing. All the noise in the cave seems to phase out. The squeaking of the bats. The banter between Dick and Babs. The low murmurs of Bruce and Alfred in the corner. All she can focus on is the caricature of her brother in full view of everyone in the Batcave. She looks at it, and the world becomes a sea of pink and brown and white. The uniform he died in still bloody and ragged; all her thoughts a cacophony of wailing; iron on her tongue; roaring in her ears; she feels nothing in her but pain.

Jason Peter Todd

A Good Soldier

She hates it. Hates it with a passion because Jason was so much more than a soldier. He was her Jay, her brother, everything; all she has left of him is a small paperback and this disgusting mockery of his memory.

But he’s Batman, and he grabs her by the arms and pins her, even as her legs kick out viciously. She headbutts him and manages to push him off, nailing him square in the jaw with her knee as she flips back.

“Cassandra-.” Batman starts.

“Mine,” She snarls, eyes blazing and her hand pushing Bruce away from her. Even with the pads of his armour, she knows it hurts. She turns to leave.

“Not Robin. My Jay. My Brother. My Jason.”

Standing in Jason’s room, Cassandra closes the window he left open. She notices a picture frame on his nightstand. It’s of them, Huckleberry Finn spread between their legs and their foreheads pressed together.

Cass curls into a ball and clutches his treasures to her chest, sobbing because there is no rain to fill the vacuum she’s found herself in.

--

Far, far away, a man between worlds shatters the dimensions. The ripple disturbs Gotham, but she cannot deny her love of the results.

Gotham watches as her prodigal son begins his dramatic return; rising from below to walk above once again.

--

“So, is it really true that you took down Troia when you were only thirteen? All on your own?” The new Robin, Tim, is okay. Really. Cassandra just can’t look him at and see someone else in the uniform. When she doesn’t answer, the boy seems to fidget nervously. She doesn’t even know what his eyes look like.

“I–I guess, since I’m here to be Batman’s new Robin, I was hoping I could be the Robin to –.”

Cassandra doesn’t even let the boy finish before she leaves.

--

Jason wakes up drowning. It’s not water that enters his lungs, but an unnatural, sickly green liquid that vexes and rots and makes his body feel like he’s on fire. Nandra Parbat is where he is when he’s calmed down from being dipped into the Lazarus Pit, trapped in a fortress of assassins that want to mould a Bat into one of them. It’s an entirely different League.

This time, Cass is not here to keep them away.

--

When she meets Steph, Cassandra is enamoured because the girl smiles and laughs (except she still isn’t the same, no one is), almost just like Jason. But there are slight differences between the girl and her brother. Her hugs are great, but they don’t feel right. She smells like lavender instead of the rain. Despite how much the girl likes to joke with her, not one of them manages to draw out her smile.

Cassandra holds onto the girl like a lifeline anyway.

What bone she can throw, Steph has an uncanny knack of finding things that others take ages to locate, which is helpful enough for right now since Tim is still missing. It doesn’t help when Steph reads that Tim is in a warehouse with none other than The Joker.

--

He’s practising his aim when she comes in, almost plucking the gun out of his hand. Jason grips the girl’s arm and flings her over his back. Rose Wilson, a wolfish grin plastered on her face and snowy hair fanning under them, doesn’t even look fazed.

“Wow Jace, if you wanted to pin me you could have just asked,” His only friend in this place is what keeps him sane; when the Joker of his nightmares haunts the edges of his mind, she is there to let him know it isn’t real. Despite how different they are, she’s a breath of fresh air in this hellhole they’re in. He should probably tell her how he feels.

“You’re such a fucking chicken-shit,” Is what comes out of his mouth instead. Rose only smirks at him, silver mane and eyes with almost the same mischief his sister had.

“Your aim still sucks balls by the way.”

He growls, raising his arm to let his gun do the barking.

--

Ranting and raving greet her as she sneaks in through a window, a litany of nonsense and stammers echoing around the warehouse. She drops from the catwalk as silently as she can, but the madman obviously still hears her as his head bends at an impossible angle to look right at her.

“Oh. Look who showed for quality time with Uncle Jay!” She doesn’t mean to, but Cassandra flinches, and the Joker’s twisted grin shifts. Big mistake. “Oh? Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” It takes every inch of willpower in her not to rasp the words, but Joker sees through it regardless.

“What? Don’t like my name?” The Joker pouts, but it looks more like a sneer. “It’s just me yaknow? Your Uncle Jay.”

Another flinch, and the Joker steps closer, a snake in the reeds.

“Mister Jay,” He’s stalking closer now; her body won’t move. “JayJay.”

“Jaybird,”

“Jay,” She is so still as the Joker seems to tower over her, his sick grin crueller and sharper (David flashes in her mind) than any other time she has ever seen it. Poison flows from his mouth like saliva as he croons.

“That’s what you called him, isn’t it? When he was still here, your precious Robin. Not this -,” He gestures to Tim, who is wide-eyed and struggling. “-phoney replacement. Want me to-? Let me tell-.” The Joker stops, frowning at the ground before continuing, his voice aberrantly low. “When I beat him over and over with that crowbar – pink with blood and brown with dirt over the white of his skin –, do you want to know what he was saying?

“The only thing that came out of that pretty little mouth of his was how sorry he was that he was for leaving ‘Cass’ behind.” The madman leers at her. “Was that you? Cass? I gotta tell you, the whole apology shtick got really boring after a while, but…

“I’ll tell you one thing. Something you can keep between just you and your Uncle Jay,” He leans in close to her ear. “I think that our Jay is almost just like me now!”

The madman cackles, his eyes sick and twisted, and his body is nothing but mania. Something in Cassandra, strained and twisted for the past three years, finally snaps.

She strikes him, harsher than she’s struck anyone ever before. So severely, she can feel his ribcage snap. His flesh becomes mince under her fists. He stumbles and contorts as she overwhelms him with every piece of her fury. The gale-force that is Cassandra Todd blows through the Joker, who laughs and laughs and laughs.

The monster scrambles for his gun, suddenly slick and focused. Cassandra snaps off the comic ‘Pow!’ that sticks out of the muzzle when he fires it at her. She backhands his face with the full force of her knuckles, knocking him down, and all he does is chortle. The Joker’s body twists and squirms as he is pinned in place. She raises the broken end of the comic and skewers his leg into the ground.

The Joker’s mouth froths. His eyes are bloodshot as he becomes more depraved and maunders yet, he’s still fucking laughing. Laughing as his spittle flecks onto every surface around them when he thrashes. Laughing even as she clenches the sides of his head and pulls. Laughing even as they both feel his flesh strain and shear as she tries to tear it off. The part of her that has so vehemently denied killing now cries for bloodlust. For this is justice, this is vengeance, this is for her, Jay. Cassandra, with all her might, prepares to wrench off the monster’s head and-.

And Batman pushes her off him. Batman blocks her assault on his body when Cassandra rebalances herself. Batman protects the god damn fucking Joker. She roars with her rage, her grief, and doesn’t even feel the sedative that Tim plunges into her side until it’s too late.

Glaring at Bruce, at Batman, all she sees from his body is fear and concern and all the latter is directed at the death-worshipping monster he cradles in his arms. Absently, before it all goes to black, she thinks she should leave. Leave without Batgirl, without Jason, without everything she has ever cared for.

She does, and like her brother, the tears of Gotham are the only family she has left.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[owlsinathens]

Soooo... I'm normally not keen to meddle in an existing discourse, or start one for the matter. I like it quiet and peaceful.

But the recent Jojo Rabbit discussions have started to gnaw on me and I think I need to say what I want to say before it chokes me. I'm very well aware that I don't have that many followers, so I apologize in advance for boring you with this. Feel free to ignore me 🙂

Jojo Rabbit is an excellent film, about a dark topic in history. I think it treats it very well. The characters people have taken to, K and Finkel, are very well written and acted, and of course people are shipping it, and why not? It's almost canon anyway (imo). Now people have, of course, started to hate on people who ship this, because K and Finkel are Nazis.

Well, yeah, they are. And that makes them problematic I guess. God I hate that word. But nazis isn't all they are, so calling them adorable isn't inherently wrong I think, nor is describing the relationship between them with cute terms like the so hated-on 'pure'. K and Finkel are not pure creatures, they're following the idea and regime of a hateful madman. But that doesn't mean the relationship between them has to be tainted by that.

I'm from Austria. My great-grandfather was a policeman when the country was annexed, and he immediately joined the NSDAP - and soon after that the SS in Vienna. He definitely was a Nazi, and what a Nazi. That's horrible, and I can't help seeing pictures of him in the infamous uniform with the skull cap and all that and shuddering from the evil. Yes, evil. A man who thinks Jews and other non-aryan people should be wiped off the face of the earth is. Evil.

But he wasn't just a Nazi. He had a daughter, my grandmother. She never experienced anything but kindness from him, she only knew the father, not the SS officer. To her, he was 'Vati' and an endless source of joy and laughter, and when he went to Russia, got captured and consequently died in a camp in Siberia from starvation and dysentery, she was heartbroken, losing her loving father at just six years.

She'd been VERY sheltered, so it must've been a shock for her to learn what went down during those years, to learn what job 'Vati' had had, and what that job entailed. Arresting people. Interrogating people. Sending people on a journey without return. And yet, wouldn't you know, she still loved her father. Not the Nazi in the skull cap, not the horrible man who believed in Aryan supremacy and a thousand year Reich. But the man who held her hand on long walks, who told her stories of his own naughty school days and who swung her high into the sky.

And yes, I would call their relationship pure, father and daughter, untainted by war and ideologies and hate. Because yes, my great-grandfather was a Nazi, and that's fucking horrible, and inexcusable. But that's not all he was. That's not all he's remembered for.

Okay enough of my fucked family lol

I don't think there's anything wrong with calling the Finkeldorf ship cute or pure or whatever. The only thing that makes me personally uncomfortable is seeing certain kinds of tags, examples:

my baby nazi son

my adorable nazi boy

...and the likes. I mean, I'm not the tag police and of course people can tag what they want without deserving hate or being bad people for it, but I'm asking you all to consider something. The word Nazi isn't necessary in those tags. K is adorable without that part of him. Finkel can be your baby son without the Nazi part in the tag.

And I'm not saying this to pretend they aren't Nazis or to hush that up - as if that's possible. I just think the term Nazi should never be misused, played down, or trivialized as a cute nickname/description of sorts. I'm not calling anyone out, hell I don't even remember where I've seen it (from whom) and of course I know these posters didn't mean anything like that by it. But it is what it is.

Okay I'm done sorry for this horribly long uninteresting rant 🙈🙈🙈

PS: Don't hate on people for their ships, guys. It's meant to be fun. Just... don't hate. Shake your head in annoyance if you must and move on 😞

[gaycrouton]

Just Like Old Times

xSo this is my entry to the @xfilesfanficexchange I just wanted to post it here too!

Dedicated to the always lovely DeeDee for the 2019 X-Files Episode Exchange!

MASSIVE thank you to my love @admiralty-xfd who beta'd for me through my procrastination and the amazing @suilven19 for being a boo and helping me aswell! You guys are the best!

XXXXXXXXXXX

"Mulder, what are you doing with my poster?"

For years she had stared at that poster. The blue sky, the trees, the spaceship, but most importantly, the words "I WANT TO BELIEVE" written at the bottom. The poster had changed more times than she could even remember, but they had all had the same impact on her - they instilled a little mantra in her head. Sometimes a silly pep talk when she felt like her fingers would fall off before she finished a case report, sometimes acting as a proverb of acceptance when Mulder pissed her off.

She wanted to believe, and as much as Mulder was considered the believer, she felt an intimate connection to those four words because they encompassed all she'd been doing for the past three years. She wanted to believe in the science she'd dedicated her life to, she wanted to believe in their work, she wanted to believe in him most of all. The last one seemed to take the most precedence for her; she noticed that several years into their partnership when her gaze mindlessly would flit from the white block letters to the man sitting a foot away.

She wanted to believe they'd work out.

Sometimes when she'd laid next to him in bed that fateful year when his depression had consumed him and she couldn't reach him anymore, she had thought back to that two by three foot poster, the newest incarnation a floor below her in his home office, completely covered up by clippings of his newest fixations: I want to believe he'll get better, I want to believe I'll see my Mulder again, I want to believe I can stay by his side, I want to believe leaving him will be the push he needs to get better, I want to believe it won't break him.

It hadn't. She'd seen him off and on again over the past four years they'd been separated, magnets couldn't help but be drawn together after all, and he slowly but surely had gotten better.

But up until a few weeks ago, she hadn't been to their - his, she kept doing that. She hadn't been to his house since she'd walked over the threshold and turned herself from a resident into a visitor.

Then, like the last four years hadn't happened, she was back, pleading with him to get out of his never ending cycle. "You want to believe. You so badly want to believe."

She'd gone through as many physical metamorphoses as the poster, and no matter what she looked like, her message still was branded across her heart, as it always was with Mulder. I want to believe. It was the sole reason she'd sat on that couch, the same one they'd spent countless hours on making lo- stop. She kept doing that, too. Thinking about things she most definitely shouldn't.

It was the same reason she was sitting and listening to him ramble like a madman, his audience consisting of herself, the person who sparked the fire, and the one prodding the ashes to keep it aflame. Yet both of the latter, along with Mulder, kept touching base with her to see if she was believing him, because -for some reason- her believing him seemed to act as a benediction against any traces of insanity lingering in his tone.

She was listening, she was, but her attention was partly caught by the familiar spaceship against the blue backdrop that was peeking behind his shoulder. He'd cleared it off. He'd moved it. Now that she was really looking - it wasn't as wrinkled as it was when she'd last seen it. So did he get a new one?

In that moment, as ridiculous as it was, she was hurt. Was the message on this poster as replaceable as the way he treated it? Every few years, a new poster; every few years a new theory he was dedicating his life to.

All while she sat there idly and tried her hardest to believe, year after year, theory after theory.

So she decided to put her foot down. And she did...but if there was one thing she would always believe, it was her science. And her science was telling her Mulder was right, her science was telling her that she needed to help him.

Maybe that's what their cycle of shared beliefs amounted to - not mindless searching and dutiful following, but a symbiotic partnership that was necessary to find the truth.

They both liked it that way.

It was probably her renewed sense of mission, her excitement at going back to their roots, that caused her stomach to flop when she walked into the basement office for the first time in fourteen years. Her key, which she'd never taken off her keyring along with the keys to their old apartments, still managed to unlock the door and the first thing she saw was the poster she'd spent so much time looking at torn in two on the ground. The ship was the part ripped away, as if it left when they did.

But they were here. They had work to do.

She picked up the two sections of the poster and laid them on the barren desk and ran her hands over the glossy finish. It was identical to the one at their - dammit. It was identical to the one at Mulder's house. She remembered when they'd moved to Farr's Corner back when they'd finally stopped running. She remembered they'd told only a few people where they were, only those who they had deemed safe and who they'd wanted to know. Maggie Scully, Skinner, Monica, and Doggett.

A few weeks after they'd finished unpacking the house and their few belongings, they'd got a tube of cardboard in the mail with the familiar poster and a note that had simply said:

I had a feeling you guys might want this. Welcome back.

Happy housewarming.

-JD

Acting with the same precision she used during surgery, she found a roll of tape in the desk and began aligning the Poster's edges so she could take them together.

To be honest she hadn't been expecting to see a poster in the office because of John's kindness, but now that she thought about it, she remembered snagging one after her trip to Maine, following Mulder's directions to a little headshop on M street she could smell from a mile away. But she ended up never sending it out instead, just letting it sit untouched in their impromptu storage room.

She taped one side and then the other, securing the pieces together to the best of her ability while Mulder strolled in. "Hey, where'd that come from?" he asked.

"This is mine," she smiled at him, holding up the poster and inspecting her work.

"I'm sorry, I ripped it," he apologized, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck.

"You ripped it?" she repeated curiously, moving to the spot it was destined to go.

"Yeah. I was down here a few weeks ago and I just felt like no one was listening to me and I was frustrated," he explained.

She nodded, regretful that she might have contributed to his feelings of isolation, and held the poster up to the wall. "It's okay. Just help me put it up," she smiled. He did as told, grabbing some thumbtacks from the drawer and walking over to her to put them in each corner.

When it was secured, they both took a step back and admired their work. "Order's been restored," Mulder beamed, and she knew he wasn't talking just about the poster. Deciding to simply nod in agreement, she sat in her chair and went to work, appreciative when he followed suit.

It was almost like once it was up, they were thrown back to the nineties, minus the dial up and the shoulder pads. They fell into a comfortable ease and she had to bite back a smile when he, almost out of muscle memory, threw a pencil at the wall like he always used to do. He immediately recognized what he'd done and turned to her with a look of absolute guilt. "Shit, Scully. I'm so sorry."

He expected a reprimand, but instead he got an eyeroll he probably hadn't seen in years along with an amused, "Some things never change."

She looked up at him and caught him smiling at her. "No, they really don't."

But some things were changing, and it was those subtle things that made all the difference. The last time she'd really spent with him, he'd rant and rave, going on and on about things that had no evidence, which was unlike the Mulder she used to know, the Mulder she used to spar and debate with. But now she was by his side and he was pointing to a screen he'd obscured from the janitorial staff at the company for Nugenics Technology. A brilliant move she was impressed with. He was excited about proving this to her and as her gaze flickered above the monitor to the image underneath the pencils, she realized she didn't have to want right now. She believed in him.

And now, for the ultimate test. From the desk of good ol' Walter Skinner, they had a case and it had a monster in it. She just hoped things would be different this time. No, she knew they'd be different this time. And it would all start with her being the one to introduce the case. To be honest, the idea thrilled her and she had to try and calm the skip in her step as she made her way to the office.

Opening the door she was met with the familiar sight of Mulder hurling a pencil at the poster, hitting it dead on. She looked at the white text and held onto the X-file in her hand. She wanted to believe this was going to be fun.

XXXXXXXXX

"Mulder, have you been taking your meds?"

It was something about the question that reminded him of a conversation they'd had two years ago.

He'd pressed 'call' on her contact information seventeen times today since he'd got out of his doctor's appointment. He'd hung up sixteen times, and on the third ring he was going to make it seventeen when he was interrupted.

"Mulder?" a hesitant voice called out from the receiver. He hadn't heard her voice in a few months and just the sound made his heart ache.

"Hey, Scully," he replied nervously, playing with the cap of an orange pill bottle, listening to the gentle 'pop' sound it made when it came off followed by the 'snap' when his thumb pressed it back down.

"What's wrong?" she asked. He felt guilty at how happy it made him that she still worried about him, almost as guilty as he felt that she had to, but not nearly as guilty as he felt that she assumed something had to be wrong for him to call. But he'd set the precedent on that one.

"N-nothing," he swallowed nervously.

"Then why-"

He interrupted her before the end of a sentence had a chance to hurt his feelings. "I have a therapist now. I-I've been going for the past month." He wished he could stop stuttering. He had her attention and he didn't want to ruin it.

There was a slight pause and he felt his stomach start to churn until he heard. "Really?" She sounded pleased with him. Surprised even.

"Yeah. I like him a lot. He's been really helpful." Tone it back, Mulder. He just figured that sounded better than the fact it took him a long time to really open up; paranoia's hard to shake.

"Did he prescribe anything?" she asked. He'd just opened his mouth to respond when she immediately followed with. "I-I'm sorry, that's none of my business."

I want it to be. "No, no. You're fine. You, uh, you sent me the referral anyway so, I really have you to thank." I wouldn't have gone if you hadn't left. The words were unspoken, but were implicit to both of them. "Yeah, um, they gave me Zoloft," he responded, reading the name off the label. Take once a day with food.

"For your depression and anxiety?" she asked, diagnoses she'd been aware of far before they came out of his therapist's mouth. He could hear her hair rustling against the phone and he knew she was nodding.

"Yeah, he said it could help with obsessive tendencies too," he informed her, knowing she'd want to hear that.

"How do you feel?" She'd taken a similar medication for depression about a decade ago. She'd recognized how she was feeling and proactively tried to better herself. She had always been smarter than him.

It also meant she understood it took some time getting used to. That's why it had actually taken so long for him to be able to call. For a while he'd try, his head would get too fuzzy, and he'd quit. He didn't want to call Scully until he was definitely better and he didn't want to call and then break his promise, because she had no reason to believe him. Scully, as always, needed evidence. But God, those first few months had been hard. "I hated it at first… I felt fuzzy a lot." He could hear the similar rustling that signaled her agreement. "But after a while I could tell it was working. I feel...better. Clearer," he told her honestly.

"I'm glad you stuck with it. I know how much you don't like medicine," she explained. Her referencing her deep knowledge of him brought a smile to his face.

"Me, too," he replied, closing his mouth when he realized his happiness was audible. There was a silent tension on the phone now that they had nothing to say. He had called to say he was getting help. He said it. She heard it. That was that. There would be no "want to come over" and that "how are you" would be met with brevity that turned into frustration when he inevitably pried too hard. He'd been met with a dial tone enough times over the past two years to know that was the likely outcome.

"I'm very happy for you, Mulder. I'm glad to hear you're doing good for yourself," she replied, and he wished more than anything that the slight implication that it didn't or shouldn't affect her wasn't there.

But now two more years had passed and they were together again. There was still a shyness, but they were both finding footing in this new terrain. If he had any questions about if they were moving forward, it was answered as she softly asked "Mulder, have you been taking your meds?"

She was teasing him, but she knew the underlying question was 'are you sure this is you renouncing your old ways or falling privy to them?'. They were having fun being together, but he understood that she felt like him having the X-files was akin to an alcoholic being in a bar. But he was better now.

His words were true, he did view the work in a new, wiser light. But he'd be lying if he said half the inspiration of his speech wasn't to let her know he recognized there was more to life than work.

"Mulder, I married you so I could spend the rest of my life with you because I love you! You promised me, you promised me you would let the darkness go. That you would try. I feel like I've lost you and I don't know how to get you back. Mulder, look at me!" She'd screamed at him, her voice cracking during the last sentence. Screamed. He couldn't remember if she'd ever done that before. He was trying to put together her words when he heard her grab her keys and slam the door. How long had she been trying to get his attention?

He didn't need another mothman, another walla walla blah blah blah; honestly looking at the files just reminded him of how naive he had been. How he had chased the lies while his truth had run beside him in his blindspot. But he had Scully now, and she was front and center to him. He could tell she was biting back a smile at his speech, and the sight was a blessed gift.

He pulled the pencils out of the tattered poster slowly, little marks of various introspections marring the blue sky like a map of all the times he'd hoped for answers. He'd always be curious about the unknown, it was in his blood, but he didn't want to lose her.

"We've been given another case, Mulder. It has a monster in it," she told him, a hint of excitement lacing her tone.

He tried to bite back his shared feelings and threw one singular pencil onto the poster.

Well...if it was given to them, who was he to say no?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Mulder!"

It was a sound that, unfortunately, was not all that unfamiliar to her ears after all these years. Mulder was screaming. While she'd been pleasantly enjoying the nostalgia of being on a monster hunting case with Mulder, this uncomfortable combination of dread, fear, and adrenaline was something she could definitely do without. Within a second of hearing it, she didn't care about the body in front of her. All she cared about was getting to Mulder.

As soon as she rounded the corner and saw him on the ground, his name ripped from her throat and she was rushing towards him. No, no, no, I just got you back. Images of the other man's gouged out neck flashed in her mind and she immediately bent down, calling his name again, as her hand touched his intact neck. Thank God.

His eyes opened this time, but her relief at that was mixed with worry as she saw blood. "No, I'm okay," he rasped, looking around dazed and confused.

"You've got blood on you," she told him, touching him as much as she could to assess his condition.

"I don't think it's mine," he replied, closing one eye experimentally.

She heard a rustling sound behind them and she pivoted so that she was covering him a little more like a mama bear defending her cub. But, luckily, it was just the animal control guy who seemed to be as hapless as he was harmless.

Not seeing a threat in the unlucky man, she turned back to Mulder and did another check over on him, making sure he was truly okay.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"If you squint it looks like...something"

Did he realize he was forgetting what personal space meant? Of course not. If his shoving evidence in front of her face wasn't clue enough he was in his enthusiastic-Mulder routine, the fact he seemed to disregard how close he was getting to her was evidence enough. He always had a knack for standing as humanly close as he could get away with. In the beginning it had flustered her, then it had frustrated her, then it had turned her on - it was a dart board for which it would make her feel like. Ultimately, she loved it and she missed it, but she couldn't let him know that.

Even though she was circling around the dead body like they were dancing, she felt her body reacting to the familiarity of it all. Even his aftershave made her insides melt. Correction, she remembers how it used to make her insides melt, emphasis on used. But she thinks what was affecting her most of all was his excitement.

She had to try and reign in how much she loved this though. They weren't together and she couldn't tease him by letting him think they were closer than she thought either of them were ready for. But it was hard; it wasn't like she could revert back to this moment or that moment of their partnership and just go on. Every moment they'd spent together had led up to their intimate partnership. It was hard being on new ground and trying to understand how to navigate the foreign terrain.

Especially when they were bantering like this.

Oh, how she'd missed this.

His eagerness, his theories being refuted by her science. This was what she'd wanted all those years ago when he couldn't stop spiraling downwards. Just as much as she could tell he was having fun, she knew he could see the same in her.

"You're really enjoying yourself, aren't you, Scully?"

I'm enjoying you, Mulder.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sleeping Beauty

It was amazing how merely the sight of Scully immediately calmed him. Of course, he still didn't like the implications of this situation - that someone had been using this intricate peeping tom labyrinth to violate their, specifically her, privacy. And it especially didn't bode well with him that someone else had got to see Scully like this when it'd been four years since he'd had the opportunity, not counting all the dreams and late-night longings.

He'd always loved watching her sleep. It was one of his favorite pastimes, even before they'd gotten together. After, it just became a more frequent luxury.

"Do you always watch me sleep?" she'd asked a few weeks after they started having sex regularly.

"Always," he reassured, drinking in the sight of her bare body illuminated by the morning sun. Even the dust motes were dancing in praise above her nudity.

"Has anyone ever told you how proper you sleep?" he asked, raising a hand to trail his fingers idly over the curvatures of her arm muscles.

"Proper?" she repeated, laughing as her voice cracked from hours of not being used.

"Yeah, you sleep like this," he explained, before rolling on his back and clasping his hands together gently, trying to imitate the look of angelic peace that she wore so effortlessly.

His imitation broke as he smiled at the full throated laugh that escaped her lips. "I do not!"

He laughed with her and rolled over so that his body was on top of hers, looking down at her beaming face. "Yes you do, Madame Scully. You sleep like an angel and I love it." She hadn't had a chance to answer as his lips covered hers and he continued to show her just how much he loved it.

Years later and here she was… laying on her back while clasping her wrists in her lap and tucking her legs.

And here he was… unable to conceal his smile or adoration.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The shirt

He'd been so distracted by seeing her sleep that he hadn't noticed what she was wearing.

He'd always wondered where he'd put that shirt.

He knocked on the door, ready to tell her what he'd seen, but his breath was momentarily taken away when she opened the door to reveal a messy haired, sleepy Scully wearing his shirt.

"How do I look?" she'd asked, twirling around like she was in a fashion show, the hem of his Knicks jersey temporarily shifting up enough to reveal her creamy upper thighs.

She'd worn his clothes temporarily, usually to have something to keep her warm when she'd shuffled to the kitchen in the night to get them a post-sex snack. But now they'd just gotten home - or, they'd just gotten to her apartment. The pizza was on the way and she was wearing this just because she wanted to.

He pulled her to him and kissed her deeply, breaking it only to murmur, "I never thought anything was sexier than you in scrubs, but I think I have a new favorite."

Soon enough, the matching silk pyjama sets were replaced with his shirts. Sometimes she would put on whatever he'd just taken off, with only the explanation of, "They smell like you. It feels like I'm wrapped in your embrace. It's comforting."

He used to think it was cute, but unnecessary since he'd always be there in the flesh, ready to embrace at any given moment. But now knowing that she was possibly, at least at this moment, wearing his shirt after the separation made his heart skip a beat at the implications.

"It's comforting."

His gaze must've lingered too long because she looked down and realized what had captured his attention. "Wh-what do you need?" she asked shyly, crossing her hands in front of her chest as if to hide the subtle intimacy she'd accidentally revealed to him.

All it did was emphasize to him the fact she was braless under his shirt, but he didn't want to make her uncomfortable so he instead focused on the task at hand. "The motel manager saw our monster, Scully."

Our monster. His, hers, theirs, even now it all blended together.

Her eyebrows shot up as did the corners of her lips while she stepped aside and opened the door wider, beckoning him in.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"This is how I like my Mulder."

The words escaped her lips and she couldn't hide her smile.

This was the Mulder she'd spent years missing. He was excited, and despite the obscurity of his claims right now, he was backing them up, and he was confident.

She saw his eyes widen at the word 'my' preceding his name, but he still was trying to play it cool. God, he really was trying to be on his best behaviour for her. She saw the hunger and intrigue in his eyes when he came in and noticed she was wearing his shirt. Part of her was embarrassed that he now knew she still did it, especially since he knew she did it in an attempt to feel closer to him, but the other part liked the fact he knew.

But not as much as she liked seeing him prance around her, prattling on about his confidence that it was no longer a creature, oh no, but a monster. Just how he liked his cryptids.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"That...did not happen."

This man...was not sane.

"And then this beautiful woman with red hair strutted in."

He knew he was referring to Scully immediately, but he seemed to have an...alternative...telling of the events.

"I greeted her, thinking she wanted to buy a phone, but she was in the market for something else if ya know what I mean," Guy smirked, imitating charm he'd undoubtedly seen on TV, but not quite having the bravado to pull it off himself.

Mulder knew his confusion registered on his face, not quite understanding what he meant, so Guy elaborated. "She wanted to procreate, like they do in the porn" Guy explained with a proud smirk.

There was too much wrong with that sentence for Mulder to be able to hold in his bewilderment. "I'm not following."

Guy nodded his head as if he expected that answer, as if he could sense the lack of sex appeal in Mulder that he himself apparently reveled in. He shrugged and leaned against the tombstone temporarily. "I guess she could smell my pheromones from outside the store; I could smell hers as soon as she came in." Mulder internally cringed at the man's oddly textbookish recitation of human interaction, but encouraged him to go on nonetheless.

"She said she thought her phone was broken because guys weren't sending her pictures of their junk on it. Now, I'd heard how annoying junk mail is, but this woman seemed to really want it. So I told her she could cancel her pop-up blocker, whatever that is, but she told me to follow her and I learned she was talking about a different type of 'junk'," at his last words he pointed to his crotch with a smile, attempting to enlighten Mulder about this strange woman's unusual vocabulary.

Out of every single thing Guy had told him in the past ten minutes, this was the most unbelievable. "What?" he deadpanned, not even trying to hide his skepticism.

"We went into the storage room and started mating. She was like a wild woman. It was like we were animals going at it as she moaned and groaned. And she just kept whimpering, 'Don't stop! Don't stop! Don't-"

As he explained this, he crudely reenacted this fantasy by thrusting his hips into an imaginary Scully. Mulder gritted his teeth in unbridled irritation. Scully had always teased him for being possessive, and apparently it hadn't faded. "Stop," he commanded, halting the man's motions before adding, "That… did not happen."

"He said I did what?" Scully exclaimed, gawking at him.

Mulder laughed and put up his hands in surrender. "I'm just telling you what he told me."

She pouted a little and looked at her lap, her fingers twiddling nervously. He was shocked at her change in demeanour, but even more surprised at her dejected words, "He said he wouldn't tell anyone…"

For a flash second his stomach pitted out before he realized the improbability of her statement and caught the way she was biting back a smile. He nudged her lightly and laughed, "Liar."

She pursed her lips into a line, amusement dancing in her eyes as she looked at him in mock earnesty. "No, I'm not," she balked, pausing to swallow a laugh. "As soon as he shucked off that maroon vest and screamed 'I quit' I felt my loins quiver."

"Your loins," he repeated with a laugh.

"Oh definitely, and when he ran around the room like the Tasmanian Devil, destroying everything in his wake, I just couldn't help myself," she nodded.

"You had to drag him to the back room and take a picture of his junk?" he teased, enjoying this flirty banter he'd been missing so badly - enjoying being able to talk about sex in front of Scully in any capacity.

"What can I say? I needed it," she joked.

"Mulder, I need it," she whispered into his mouth as she pinned him up against the alley wall. He looked down and noticed it was a dead end and turned to her with a mischievous gleam in his eye.

"You said this was a shortcut," he huskily replied, helping her hike the hem of her dress up over her hips.

"I lied," she purred as she unzipped him and pulled his already hard cock out of his pants, stroking him eagerly while he slid a finger under the fabric of her thong.

"When you need it you need it," he murmured, thinking back fondly at the memory.

Her ears reddened as she realized he was referencing her penchant for impromptu sex in unconventional places. Then, much to his happiness, instead of reprimanding him for being inappropriate, she rolled her eyes and slapped his arm with a smile.

"Shut up, Mulder."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Hey, buddy. You wanna come home with me?"

She'd meant it when she was on the phone. She missed having a dog to love - though she recognized that longing would be satisfied more by a six foot puppy-eyed man she knew than an actual dog, but anything to come home to now would be nice.

To say she'd been surprised when he'd ultimately left her, after she solved the case no less, in favor of looking into his horny lizard man, would be a lie. She couldn't be mad though, he was finally getting life back into him, he was healthy, he seemed happy, and at the end of the day that's all she could ask for.

But…

She looked around and didn't see any other staff lingering around the shelter. Surely this little guy would have a better home with her…

Maybe in the future she'd have someone else to come home to, but everything has to start somewhere.

"Let's go cutie," she whispered, letting her fingers tickle his brown hair.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Mulder and Scully Meet Daggoo

"Scully," he stated slowly.

"Yes, Mulder," she replied with mock innocence.

"What is that?" he asked, pointing to the ball of fur sitting on her bed.

"Um...my new dog," she explained.

"Since when did you get a dog?" he questioned.

"Since you abandoned me at the dog pound."

I leave and I'm replaced by a dog. Okay.

"So what was it you were going to tell me? How did it end up going with your lizard-man?" she asked sweetly.

Not used to her uncharacteristic enthusiasm, he decided to put off any more questions about the dog for later and fill her in. He sat on a chair facing the bed, ignoring the dog sniffing every inch of his leg, as Scully gave him her rapt attention. At first he thought she was just curious, but then it just became a little too interested to be normal - she wasn't even giving him her usual eye rolls or critical comments. When she finally did speak up, it was at a part he thought was irrelevant. "But when he got back, Daggoo was gone. The maid-"

"Daggoo?" she repeated, ignoring the dog's now incessant attention and barking.

"Yeah, that's what he named the dog, Daggoo," he said, the dog barking like an exclamation point on the sentence. "Why?"

"Daggoo's the name of a harpooner in Moby Dick!" She smiled at him, petting the dog on the head.

"Yeah, he said Daggoo-hey! Is he okay?" Mulder asked, pointing to the dog who was jumping at his legs.

"I think so, he hasn't really acted this way before," she replied, scooting off the bed.

"What's he-," Mulder stopped, realizing something.

Scully sent him a questioning look as she leaned next to the dog. "What?"

Without a word, he got up and crossed to the other side of the room. When he was as far away as possible, he looked at the dog licking Scully. "Daggoo," he declared sternly.

Without Further prompting, the dog ran to him and sat at his feet, looking up at him before barking once. A smile spread across his face as he looked over at a surprised Scully. "I think you found Guy's dog."

A look of sadness flitted across her face and she stood up, "Does that mean I have to give him back?"

Happy that he had news that would make her smile, he quickly assured her, "No, no, long story short, Guy went into hibernation in the woods. He won't be back for a long time."

"Oh," Scully laughed, "Um, well. Good."

He watched as she bent down and picked up the little mutt, barely big enough to really count as a dog in Mulder's opinion. "Do you have stuff to take care of a dog?" he asked.

Suddenly, an expression of nervousness took over her face. "Well...actually. I wanted to ask you a favor..."

In that moment, her previous indulgence of him made absolute sense. She was trying to butter him up. "I don't know, Scully," he began, his resolve weakening when he saw her lip pout.

"Please Mulder! I called my apartment when I got here and they said no, but I'd already fallen in love with him. We can't let him lose two owners in one week, that's cruel."

"I don't have any stuff to keep the dog at the house," he explained.

"I'd get it!" she offered immediately. "And I promise I'll come over everyday and take care of him and walk him and clean up after him," she was rambling like a child who had brought home a stray and it made him smile - usually it was him who had do do all the convincing. He let her go on a little, not letting onto the fact he'd already agreed when she said she'd come over everyday.

"If you do all that, then yes. I'll take him," he replied.

"Thank you, Mulder," she beamed.

Anything to get her home.

[marvelmymarvel]

Despicable

Ronald Speirs x Medic!Reader (toxic. Reader deserves better)

Synopsis: He needed you to leave him... So he pushed you till you did. And it was absolutely despicable.

Song: Despicable by Grandson (link: https://youtu.be/zZ3bohoNNrU )

Trigger warning: angsty

A/n: I can't stay away for long here's some content ;) let me know if you wanna know who exactly the reader deserves.

(The goodbye is the hardest part). It was hard for you to say goodbye to Ronald Speirs. The Ronald Speirs. The madman that ran across the town of Foy through enemy fire. The crazy guy who offered cigarettes to POW's and killed them. Or so they said... The first instance was real, you witnessed it firsthand. But the second instance? They were rumors, but you wouldn't question whether or not he would do it. You couldn't leave him though. (When we find ourselves back at the start). You would just start over once more. It was a vicious cycle you two were in. He left, you begged. You left, he begged. Over and over and over again. You couldn't seem to break free. You didn't know if you wanted to. (But I'm not so brave, and I'm not so smart). You weren't brave or smart enough to leave him for good. The minute you saw him running into danger was the minute you ran back to him. Every. Single. Damn. Time. You guess though when it came down to it, he would be the one to make you leave. (No,). He hurt you. Not physically, not even really verbally. But you still felt the ache in your stomach when he ignored you or cut you off short. He had to do it. (I'm doing you a favor, doing you a favor). He was doing you a favor, he thought. If he could make you hate him, you would never come back.

"Ron" you whispered out as he came out of the battle with a wicked wound on his arm. Walking towards him, he only pushed past you. His shoulder slammed into yours and your breath caught as it nearly knocked you over. (One day you will understand). "Ron?" You croaked out toward his retreating form, but he just kept walking towards a different medic. Laying in your foxhole that night, you thought of all that was happening. He was ignoring you, pushing you away. And you couldn't stop it. You got up and climbed out of the foxhole before making your way over to Eugene's. Climbing down, he jumped as you shoved his arm. (Why I pushed you away as I am). "I don't get it, Gene." You whispered out as you two sat together in the foxhole. He yawned as he stretched out his arms, "Get what sweetheart?" He asked sleepily as you rested your head on his shoulder. "Why does Ron hate me...." his breathing stilled at those words and he sat up finally. Your head fell off his shoulder as he rubbed his face in anguish. (And you will find a better man than I am). "You deserve better y/n" he muttered under his breath and you grew conflicted at those words. You did deserve better... Didn't you. "Should I leave him?" You whispered out softly. It was heavy and full of sadness. Eugene could feel that and he wrapped an arm around your back. Grabbing your waist softly, he drug you closer to him. "Do you want me to be honest?" You gulped at the words. Did you want him to be honest? You knew what he was going to say... You just didn't want to hear it. "Yeah" you whimpered out and he just sighed at you before getting closer. "You need to leave him." (Trust, I'm doing you a favor, doing you a favor). Ron inhaled his smoke from where he leaned against a tree nearby Eugene's hole. He wasn't meaning to eavesdrop, but hearing you made him falter in his steps. He was glad he stopped. 'Leave me' his thoughts prayed 'Leave. Me.' "Okay" you choked out sadly. Ron threw his cigarette to the ground before sneaking off. He got what he wanted... (Ooh).

But he felt so God damn...

(Despicable).

Why did he do it anyway, he contemplated to himself in his foxhole that night. Tomorrow, you would leave him. Something that he prayed for. But why. He loved you.... (I'm just a bottom feeder (uh huh)). Well for starters, he was a horrible person. At least, he saw it as such. He didn't deserve the title, the honor, the praise. He didn't deserve you.

He was...

(Despicable).

He was not going to be yours for the rest of your life. You would leave him eventually. (I ain't never been a keeper (oh no)). He was never really the boy to bring home to mom and dad...

He was just so God damn...

(Despicable).

Inhaling sharply at the next thought that crossed his mind, his blood ran cold. You deserved better. He would only love you and then leave you. (Love her then I leave her). Just like you, he would never stay. He would always, always, leave you. He wouldn't blame you for your feelings of hatred. (And if I were you, I wouldn't love me neither). Because if he was you. He wouldn't love himself either. (Said if I were you, I wouldn't love me neither). The words circled in his head over and over again. It hurt his heart the more and more he thought about just how much he wouldn't love himself if he was you. (I wouldn't love me neither). Why would you stay??

He was only...

(Despicable).

And that was it. That was all he was to you.

He felt like a fallen angel. Seeing him across the field felt heavenly.... but getting close meant feeling only the hellfire. (The boy who fell into the sky). You didn't know that he loved you truly. And the only way to hide his tears and feelings from you was to be cruel. (Had no one there to watch him cry). He didn't want to feel weak. He didn't want you to know that he couldn't live without you-

"Ron" you called out from behind him. He turned slowly. It was happening, he thought to himself as he internally built a wall. You walked closer to him as the other men scattered away. His eyes looked sad... They looked... (He looked at you with his empty eyes and said:). Empty. "Its over." You whimpered out shakily "We... We can't keep playing this game of cat and mouse" your voice was surprisingly strong, but it masked how you truly felt. "So I'm leaving you... For good." You finished off, finally looking straight into his eyes. You were hoping for any emotion whatsoever... But there was none. "I'm glad you did it... I was getting impatient" he sneered lowly before turning and storming away. ("I'm doing you a favor, doing you a favor."). Your heart broke as you tried to grasp his words. He wanted you to leave. That was confirmed. Stumbling back, you felt your world tilt. Feeling a hand grab your back softly, you could barely hear Eugene over the blood that was rushing in your ears.

(Ooh).

"That despicable" you snarled out as Eugene turned you softly to him. You were angry.

He was just so...

(Despicable).

"Low life" you continued on as Eugene guided you over to a curb. (I'm just a bottom feeder (uh huh)). Everything you two went through meant nothing to him.

It was all so...

(Despicable).

Sitting you down, Eugene pulled out his canteen for you to drink. But you were deep in thought. (I ain't never been a keeper (oh no)). "Y/n" Eugene whispered out as he saw the tears form in your silence. Turning your head to him, you sniffled loudly "He was never going to keep me was he?" You stuttered out as your lip quivered from the pain that ran through your body. Not one hand was laid on you... Yet you hurt. Shaking your head, the one word that described him in this moment repeated in your head over and over again.

"Despicable" you snarled once more before rubbing your hand over your face in angst.

(Despicable).

You hated him. HATED him. He was never going to stay, no. He used you. (Love her then I leave her). He loved you and then left when you returned the feelings. And for that, Ron thought as he backed away from the wall that he was watching you and Eugene from, you deserved better. He didn't blame you. He hated himself as well. (And if I were you, I wouldn't love me neither). Instead of manning up and leaving you, he pushed you to the point of pain. He hated that. (Said if I were you, I wouldn't love me neither). That wasn't something he was proud of. Oh no. No no no. That guilt of hurting you sat in his chest for the rest of the day and well into the next couple of days. He even heard you say how much you hated him while you were ranting to Gene. He didn't blame you. "I wouldn't love me neither y/n" he whispered to himself as he backed away from the screaming. (I wouldn't love me neither). After all.

He was only...

(Despicable).

As time the days drug on, he watched you as the pain lessened on your face when you would see him. How he wished it was different. (How I wish I told a different tale). He wanted to be with you. He wanted to love you. (Like we chased the light and his love prevailed). He used to pray for it to work out. That the fight you two just got into wouldn't be the last. But...

(But his blood went cold and his skin went pale). He realized how much it was hurting you. The first initial thought of how it wasn't fair to you made him sick to his stomach. It made him distant. But he couldn't do it. He couldn't end it. So. (She got a letter in the mail, said:). He made you do it. ("I'm doing you a favor, doing you a favor"). He used to repeat that phrase over and over again. How he was doing you a favor when he couldn't sleep at night knowing you were crying yourself to sleep. Just like tonight, when he was all alone with the thoughts and guilt. He wished he could tell you. (Said: "If I were you, I wouldn't love me neither" (no)). Tell you that it was okay for you to hate him. He hated himself too. But he loved you.

(Said: "If I were you" ("If I were you")). A sob escaped from his throat into the empty and dark room he was sleeping in. Why did it hurt? Isn't this what he wanted. (Said: "If I were you, I wouldn't love me neither). No. He thought as he repeated to himself that he did you a favor. All he wanted, was your love. He wanted you. But he was nothing to you anymore.

He was only...

Despicable.

Tags:

@hell-itwasyou @desired-love-

[imaginetonyandbucky]

During his time on the run, Bucky accidentally got caught up in a crisis where the Avengers got called in and was rescued by Iron Man, who thought he was just a random (albeit cute) civilian. Bucky doesn't have the heart to tell him he wasn't really in danger, being a super soldier and all. Besides, it felt nice to be rescued and cared for (especially when his rescuer was admittedly kind of hot). Later when he joins the team he constantly refers to Tony as his hero just to make him blush.

My Hero

xxxBuckyxxx

“Sorry, dear, noplums. They’re a bit out of season,” the elder lady says, clearly too polite toimmediately tell me I’m stupid.

Not only are plumsout of season, but only an idiot or brainwashed, former HYDRA assassin from the40’s could ask for plums on an early spring farmer’s market. In Canada.

Ontario goddamn Canada!

Why did I move hereagain? Oh…because HYDRA was hot on my tail in Czechia, Steve and his pal almostgot me in Peru and I’m not even going to comment on what happened in Malaysia.So I thought Canada would be a perfect hideout for a moment. Too cold and tooclose to the US for my liking – something HYDRA would think as well. No HYDRAspotted for a month proves my theory correct.

No HYDRA but alsono plums. What a terrible trade-off.

“I have somesplendid, delicious apples though!”

“Thank you, I’llhave a pound or two,” I cave in underneath her bargaining skills and end upwith a bag full of admittedly nice, golden apples. They’ll have to do. I’mmoving back to Europe after I overstay my welcome here, that’s for sure.

“Is that a bird?”the elder asks, frowning at the sky.

I glance around myshoulder to see what she’s looking at and thatis not a bird! I grab my apples and the granny and jump out of the way of whatlooks like some kinda falling space debris.

Are the Russiansdecommissioning more space stuff?

Seconds later, thegranny’s stall is blasted off by the impact, the fruits and veggies flyingeverywhere.

I half-carry her tothe nearest store, kick open the door and push her in there. “Go inside!”

The square issuddenly in complete chaos, everyone’s running around, screaming, tripping overeach other. It’s just a falling debris people, calm the fu –

Why is the debrismoving?!

“Ow! You did thaton purpose didn’t you, J?! Nah uh! Don’t even, you little…just wait till I getback!” the not-debris rants, limbs struggling to untangle from the crash-landedmess.

(read-more ahead!)

Sound of very distinct,clear buzz of engines roars through the air and in a speedy landing maneuver, acompact flying craft I recognize only too well touches the ground at thefarthest side of the large square.

Great. Whenever Idodge HYDRA I end up with the Avengers. Can’t a guy get a month just tohimself?! Hell, a week at least!

“Watch out!”

I was beingmetaphorical about the whole dodging business, but leave it to that flyingpiece of junk that destroyed poor granny’s stall to smash into me full force, sendingus flying sideways.

Red, gold, flyingand metal – I don’t need the Winter Soldier’s restless presence at the back ofmy mind to tell me who just almost knocked the lights outta me.

Tony Stark. The Iron Man. Threat level: High. Captureor kill.

HYDRA’s little memoneeds to be updated. Threat level high?! Romanov is a high level threat, CaptainAmerica is a high level threat…Iron Man is a damn menace, ultra hazard to one’slife and market stalls!

The dust clearsafter our unceremonious landing and I’m left staring into wild hazel eyes of mywould-be savior. Okay, so maybe he did save me, seeing that the spot on thepavement I’ve been standing on two seconds ago is now a big smoking hole in thepavement. But that doesn’t change the fact that his one thousand pounds worthof metal is now squishing me to death…if I was just a random pedestrian and nota supersoldier, I’d be flat as a pancake by now.

Those expressiveeyes widen slightly and is that a blush right there?! “Sorry!” he blurts out,rolling off to finally let me breathe. “You okay?” he kneels next to me, metalfingers resting against my chest in a subtle gesture to keep me laying down.

I almost wanna rollmy eyes and tell him I’m the Winter goddamn Soldier, I most definitely didn’tneed saving and he doesn’t have to worry about me in the least!

Thing is, I am notthe Winter Soldier. I am Bucky Barnes and Bucky Barnes likes what he’s seeingright now very, very much. Talkin’ in third person too…great. HYDRA’s memoreally is useless; it completely forgot to mention how handsome Tony Stark is.Especially up close. Should have been listed in the threat level, to be honest.Damn HYDRA…

Stark frowns andsnaps his fingers in front of me. “Hey gorgeous, you still with me or what? Areyou hurt? Can you get up? D’you need a hand?”

“If it’s your handin marriage then yes, I need one,” I say before my brain can register thewords.

A startled chuckleescapes his lips – stop thinkin’ abouthis lips, Bucky! – and the blush intensifies. “You hit your head there,didn’t ya? Anyway, I gotta go. Have a date with funky alien projectile bugs.”

“I’ll fight themfor you.”

“Why thank you, buthow about I do the fighting and you do the staying low and safe, hm?” hesuggests, getting up.

“My hero,” I smirkup at him, starting to enjoy his flustered reaction.

“Stop flirting withcivilians and start blasting these things off!” some bow and arrow weirdoshouts from the top of a nearby statue causing Stark to roll his eyes.

“On it, Katniss!JARVIS! Where’s my helmet!” he yells and with a wink he disappears back intothe fray.

I jump back to myfeet and scatter out of the square that has now become a battlefield. Not thatI’d be threatened by…real funky alien projectile bugs. I could easily introducethem to my metal fist, but that would without a doubt not go unnoticed by theAvengers. I couldn’t dodge Iron Man but I’d rather not come face to face withany more Avengers, especially those that could recognize me.

I watch the fightfrom a safe distance, gaze lingering more and more on the red and gold flyingsuit of armor. A strange…fluffy feeling settles in my stomach, making theWinter Soldier all uncomfortable and growly and I honestly couldn’t care less. Fora fleeting moment there, I finally felt like Bucky Barnes. Not something inbetween or forgotten, incomplete.

One hundred percentBucky.

That’s part of whatI’ve been looking for these past few months on the run. Myself. Of course fatehas a sense of humor and would throw exactly that right in my face…or rather itthrew Tony Stark in my face and the rest just suddenly clicked into place.

Time to go back toEurope. And then…who knows.

xxxTonyxxx

Son of a bitch. Sonof a…okay, it’s probably my fault that I haven’t studied the Winter Soldier filesthoroughly enough and so wouldn’t be able to recognize Bucky Barnes even if Icrashed right into him.

Because that’sexactly what happened! I crashed right into him and did not recognize him.Smashed riiiiiiight into the Winter Soldier, thinking I was saving him. Me. Savingthe Winter Soldier. From some nasty alien critters he could probably squishwith his pinky.

Nope, it was worsethan that. I thought I just saved a random…cute…civilian. Cute!

I thought the WinterSoldier was cute! Steve’s bestgoddamn friend Bucky Barnes!

Who turned up atthe Tower a couple of days ago, after almost a year on the run. And few monthsafter our little impromptu meet & greet in Canada. The hell was he doing inCanada?!

Not that itmatters. What matters is the fact that the former HYDRA assassin, who strikesfear even in Natasha ninja Romanov when it comes to it, waltzed into the Towerafter being cleared by SHIELD, his trusty best pal Steve right next to him and oncehe greeted all the other Avengers and turned to me, that little bastard grinnedlike a madman and said:

“Oh hey, it’s myhero from Ontario! Hi there.”

He even made itrhyme…I was done! So done, I was…blushinglike an idiot. Tony Stark, blushing like an idiot in front of everyone. And theman who caused it seemed to be enjoying every second of it.

Damn him!

If only it were justthat one time but oh nooooo. Ever since then, he obviously made it his personalmission to throw that Canadian incident at me every chance he got.

“Ah! Thanks for brewing the coffee, it’s amazing! Stilla hero, even this early in the morning.”

“That’s it? The joint’s been drivin’ me nuts for daysand you just smack it with a screwdriver a couple times and it’s as good asnew? You’re my hero.”

“I’m just saying, for the record, JARVIS is a godsend!I’d be so lost without him. Guess the kudos goes to the superhero that createdhim. Super in every way and a hero through and through.”

Every. Chance. He.Got.

And he got me blushinglike a crazy teenager every time.

My hero.

He keeps calling methat like I am some kinda savior of his sent from the God above! From what Iremember, one of those damn bugs slammed into me mid-air and I plummeted downlike a comet…that’s hardly a divine intervention.

And I doubt he evenneeded saving! I watched him train with Rogers yesterday, he does not need saving, alright?

So here I am,sipping on my morning coffee, wondering how this is my life now. Can’t even goone day without him…without him…flirtingwith me? Is that what he’s doing? Why would he be doing that? With me? He’s the one that can make Thor andhis biceps run for his money. And me? I’m…not thirty anymore. Barely funny,barely…desirable. He’s probably just making fun of me and here I am, the foolwho’d think he’s actually interested in -

“Can ya open thefridge for me?”

“Hm,” I hum,automatically opening the fridge doors without looking at the newcomer.

Yeah. He’s makingfun of me, that must be it. I know Steve never really got over his dislike forme but at least he’s not being cruel about it. Bucky’s fucking savage about it!

“Thanks…my hero,”the person currently stuffing the fridge with vegetables whispers and I almostspit the coffee right there and then.

“Oh for fuck’ssake, you two! Get a room already or somethin’,” Clint complains, shoving twomore bags into Bucky’s arms to unload into the fridge.

“Since when isanyone around here going grocery shopping? That’s what deliveries are for!” Istare at the bags, not meeting their eyes because of course I’m blushing again!

“Shopping’s relaxin’,I love it! The local market’s the best. They’ve got plums,” he adds with asmall smile.

“Of course they’vegot plums, what do you mean? They’ve got everything! Welcome to the 21stcentury, Brooklyn boy.”

“Lovin’ the 21stcentury. So many…wonders around here these days.”

“Oooookay, that’sit!” I push the fridge close, making the supersoldier jump away. “You, out!” Iwave at Clint, who lingers curiously on the spot. “Out, now, Birdbrain!”

“Fine! Jeez, I’mgoing,” he mumbles and vanishes out of the kitchen.

“And you!” I pointmy finger at the startled man. “Are you done making fun of me?”

His upward quirk oflips fades at that. “What? Wait, I’m…how am I making fun of you?”

“You serious?!What, with all the ‘Oh Tony, you’re my hero! My savior!’ stuff?! How am Isupposed to understand that other than you making fun of me, hm?”

He widens his eyes,putting the bags down on the floor. “You think that I’m making fun of you…wheneverI call you that?” he asks and actually looks horrified, which in turn makes me horrified.

Oh oh. Did I screwup again? My brain to mouth filter, I swear to God…

“Yeah…? Yes. Aren’tyou? Because then I’m at a loss as to why would you call…uh…,” I stutter, eyinghim suspiciously as he walks closer, that small smile returning. “Me…uh…call methat. Why would you call me that,” I clear my throat.

“Why would I?” hechuckles. “Here I thought I was being so obvious and cheesy and…old-fashioned.Steve actually said I was being – and I quote – fucking stupid. Yes, he saidthat.”

“Obvious…stupid…what?”I blink in confusion.

“Obviously,stupidly in love,” he shrugs and looks away. “You look so cute and…oblivious wheneverI bring up Canada and…the whole ‘my hero’ thing. The blush looks good on ya soI figured I wouldn’t stop, just so that I could see it over and over again.”His smile drops again and suddenly he’s the shy one in the room. “If it’sbothering you I’m just gonna - ”

I’m a genius… or soI thought, until I’ve apparently completely missed the fact that yes, BuckyBarnes was flirting with me this whole time! Some genius I am…well, there’sstill hope for me yet.

So I kiss the manmid-sentence, putting a stop to any more blasphemous words coming out of thisgorgeous mouth.

“Not bothering me.At. All,” I whisper against his lips.

“Yeah I uh…kindagot that from the…the kiss,” he whispers back. “So…do I still get to call youmy hero whenever I want to?”

“Depends…do I getto kiss you whenever I want to?”

“I sure hope youwill,” he smirks, but it lacks his usual confidence. It’s shy and oh…why hellothere.

Turns out I’m notthe only one looking cute while blushing. Gonna have to do this a lot moreoften then, too…for science.

~Lantia

[paisleywraith]

Curses, curses. Chapter 11

Junior year is often considered the most difficult year of high school. Kyle would agree with that on a regular day, he didn’t need some magical bullshit wriggling its fingers at him and turning him into an ass-old Bill Murray movie reboot.

Kyle had no idea what was going on. At first.

The time had changed. It was Friday, finally, and he just about burst into tears in relief. As it was, his eyes watered and Stan nearly panicked trying to calm him down.

It was Friday.

Kyle stayed over with Stan, afraid to fall asleep in case he woke up on Thursday. His exhaustion eventually caught up with him, and Kyle zonked out to be shaken awake by Stan.

Friday.

           Wendy drove them both to school. She was in high spirits over something, and chattered happily with Kyle as Stan more or less just sat back and listened. It was nice, except for one thing.

           He forgot about Kenny.

           He realized this when he went to put his things away in his locker. He was thinking about breaking from the time loop, and hazily wondered, just a vague little thought. Wonder where Kenny is?

           Kyle paused. In a flood, it all crashed into him. Mysterion, wrapped in a cloak and staring down at him, telling him everything Kenny couldn’t. The kiss on the street, shock followed by reciprocation. Kenny couldn’t die.

           His eyes widened.

           “I’ll be decapitated right in front of you. My blood will splatter over your shoes and you’ll go on your day as if it never fucking happened. And you’ll be all ‘Hi Kenny’ the next time I drag myself back in your world, ‘how was your night, Kenny?’ and I just woke up in my bed after being slaughtered by the fucking universe again.”

           Kyle dropped his books.

           “Kenny.” He covered his mouth, afraid he was going to be sick. No. No, no way.

Considering he just escaped from insanity, he figured he could ditch school and left everything behind to go search.

Kenny was not in school. Or at home. Or at work. Kyle came back after lunch to finish his school day, unable to focus.

He’d almost forgotten Kenny entirely. Was that what he had meant? That vague, casual disinterest that basically said don’t worry about it and he never questioned it before? If he let his mind wander too much, he would start forgetting.

It took Kyle until next week to see Kenny again.

He saw him at school, in an actually-well-fitted tshirt and no coat. His back was to Kyle and he was staring into his locker well before school would start, searching for something.

Kyle left his locker open. He grabbed Kenny by the forearm and turned him forcibly, the taller boy looking startled before his expression melted into a grin.

“Hey, Ky-”

Kyle threw his arms around him, the force shoving them both into Kenny’s locker. He buried his face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in. He was okay.

He was alive.

Kenny wrapped his arms around Kyle as well, trying to get them out of inside the locker. He was laughing, nuzzling against the redhead.

“What the fuck happened?” Kyle shoved him away, smacking poor Kenny the back of his head against the metal corner of the locker. Kyle grabbed his shoulders. “What did you do? Kenny!”

“Hey,” Kenny just smiled at him, something in his eyes so affectionate it actually hurt.

“Kenneth!”

           “Kyle-” Kenny gently tried to shoulder him off, reaching up to rest a hand on his forearm. “I wanted to see if it would change anything. It worked, right?”

           “Oh my god.” Kyle dug his fingers into his shoulders. “Kenny.”

           “It’s okay, Kyle,” Kenny was using his soothing voice and it was pissing him off. “I’m okay. It’s alright. You’re out, and I’m okay.”

           Kyle let go to reach for his face, cupping his cheeks like he had previously when he was freaking out. The Jewish boy glared right up at him. Kenny’s eyes widened.

           “What happened?” Kyle asked, voice low.

           “Don’t ask that, Ky.” Kenny’s voice was soft. “You don’t want to know.”

           God. Kyle’s eyes momentarily shut like he’d been punched. He sighed, running his thumbs over his cheekbones. Kenny just about melted.

           They were going to talk about it. Kyle was stubborn and more than willing to latch onto this.  The thought that Kenny willingly…

           He was still holding onto his face. Kyle paused. He should back away now. Let him go, get him away to talk.

           “We need to get out of here,” Kyle finally said earnestly, letting go of his cheeks. His fingers felt cold afterwards.

           “Now?”

           “You have work later, right?” Kyle asked impatiently. He’d kidnap the asshat if he had to. “And I can’t focus anyhow, I want to talk. Just you and me.”

           “Just you and me.” Kenny parroted, still smiling like a madman. “Awesome. Lead the way, baby.”

           Kyle scoffed, but he whipped around to shut his locker and then dragged Kenny away down the hall. They passed enough people to give them looks and Kyle really didn’t give a shit. He didn’t see Stan, which was okay, he didn’t know what to say to him at the moment, or if he was ever going to tell him the whole story. He hadn’t made up his mind yet.

           “Are you hurt?” Kyle asked as he dragged a willing Kenny down the stairs.

           “No, darlin’, I come back good as new.” Kenny’s voice was chipper, but his hand tightened around Kyle’s fingers. “Don’t you worry.”

           “Yeah, I’m pretty far into ‘worrying’ territory already, thanks.” Kyle’s stomach churned. He pulled Kenny outside, out through the maintenance door behind the school, where the goth kids hung out and couples tried to sneak to smooch.

           He whirled around, dropping his hand to fix Kenny with a fierce look that made even the sunny blond’s smile fade.

           “Kyle-” Kenny was clearly trying to get a word in first, but Kyle was not having it.

           “You killed yourself, didn’t you?” Kyle’s voice was low. He locked eyes with Kenny, fire in every corner of his face.

           Kenny closed his eyes, jaw locked. There was the resistance again, Kenny’s dislike of sharing what he was actually feeling. Kyle hated it. If he hated any part of Kenny, he hated his fear of vulnerability.

           “Ky, please.” Kenny opened his eyes to look pleadingly at the redhead. Kyle grit his teeth. “You really, really don’t want to know.”

           “That’s a yes, Ken.” Kyle said in that same, bordering-on-dangerous soft tone.

           Kenny made a frustrated sound, between a sigh and a growl, before pacing around the small fenced-in area. Kyle watched the blond walk, looking distraught before stopping right in front of his shorter companion.

           “I told you, I wanted to see if it would change,” Kenny said, matching Kyle’s quiet tone with a kinder edge. “And it did, and I’m back, everything is okay, Kyle.”

           Kyle grabbed Kenny by the front of his shirt, slamming him against the school wall. Kenny grabbed his wrists but he didn’t try and remove them, despite the fact it would be easy for him.

           “Why the fuck would you do that?” Kyle was nearly in his face. His heart was racing.

           Kenny’s own expression darkened, the cold look sweeping over his eyes.

           “Don’t act like this,” Kenny leaned further until they were practically nose to nose. “You were the one contemplating suicide by car.”

           “I was-” Kyle’s face colored.

           “I wasn’t going to let you get hurt,” Kenny’s hands tightened painfully on his wrists. “You don’t come back, Ky. I told Stan to watch you, and then, yes. I went home and pulled out a gun, and I shot my fucking brains out.” Kyle clawed into his shirt, making Kenny finish speaking rapidly. “I’ve done it before and I’ve always come back. If there was even a chance it would work, I was going to do it and I’ll do it again.”

           “No you won’t.” Kyle snarled back, giving him a shake. “Not for me, or anyone else, you fucking idiot.”

           “You don’t get to make that decision!” Kenny snapped.

           “I’m not going to have you die for me,” Kyle’s voice nearly cracked and he cleared his throat. “Kenny.”

           Kenny exhaled, breath puffing over Kyle’s cheeks.

           “I looked for you,” Kyle told him, fingers aching with the force of his grip. “I asked for you and no one knew what I was talking about. It was like you stopped existing and for a while I thought maybe you weren’t-” He struggled, regaining control of himself. “Coming back at all.”

           Kenny slowly relaxed, the furrow between his eyebrows disappearing. He loosened his own grip, hands sliding up Kyle’s arms to his shoulders, up to the back of his neck. Kyle shuddered as warm fingers traced circles on the skin there.

           “I came back.” Kenny smiled crookedly. His fingers trailed up to his hair, where they buried into wild curls.

           Kyle grit his teeth. It was getting harder to hold onto his anger, but he gave it another shot.

           “But why did it work?” Kyle’s grip on his shirt loosened, Kenny’s shirt wrinkling when he let it go. “Why the fuck would that matter at all?”

           Kenny leaned back against the wearing building, head making a thunk as it hit.

           “I don’t know, Ky.” Kenny’s fingers gently scritched through his hair as he stared up at the sky. “I don’t know anything about how my own curse works, and I’ve had it for ages.”

           Kyle tore his eyes away from ogling Kenny’s neck, feeling inappropriate, redirecting his attention. This wasn’t the time.

           He swallowed. “You told me it hurts to die.”

           Kenny looked back at the redhead, visibly surprised. “Why did I tell you all this?”

           So that was something he hadn’t intended for Kyle to know. The Jewish boy chewed his lip.

           “You crawled in my window dressed as Mysterion,” Kyle was more or less just resting his hands on Kenny’s chest at this point. He didn’t bother to move. “And basically just ranted at me the whole time.”

           Kenny seemed to think that over. Kyle watched him scrunch his eyebrows, eyes focused on something far away. Kenny didn’t remember anything of the previous days. He knew that, but he hadn’t realized just how bizarre this was.

           “You only remember that last day,” Kyle murmured. Kenny’s eyes flit back to him. “I talked to you for all of a second, and you went and killed yourself to try and get me out of this?”

           Kenny shrugged, a grin creeping back into his face. “I’ve clearly been talking to you for days, though.”

           “Yeah,” Kyle’s hands smoothed his shirt. Kenny’s eyes seemed unfocused. “We- But I didn’t even drive you and Karen to school that day. We didn’t talk except for like ten minutes.”

           Kenny hadn’t spoken to him in years, the conversations, trips, touches, kiss, none of it never happened for him. And he still valued Kyle this much.

           God he could kiss him right now. He wasn’t going to be impulsive, but wow. He bit his lip.

           “You’re such an idiot,” Kyle told him, leaning back into his space. “You are by far the most annoying, careless, selfless, most amazingly brave moron I’ve ever met.”

           Kenny’s smile was blinding. Color was creeping into his cheeks, treating Kyle with the rare treat of seeing the unflappable Kenny McCormick blushing. Kyle felt a rush of affection for the gangly blond.

           Dammit.

           “Kenny,” He was looking at his lips. Kenny very distinctly look down at his mouth. Kyle’s heart picked up. “You’re not dating anyone right now, right?”

           “Huh?” Kenny’s eyes snapped back to Kyle’s. “Am I- no!” His grin was luminous. Vibrant, there was that word again. “No, I’m not.”

           “Good.” Kyle felt himself smile as well.

           “Great.” Kenny said happily. His other arm wrapped around Kyle.

           Fine.

           Kyle dug his fingers into his shirt again, but Kenny was already leaning down.

           Kyle felt the terror bleed away. Kenny was here, Kenny was fine. They kissed, this time without the need for distraction or to focus on anything other than Kenny. The blond was in his arms, finally, finally, and Kyle was not letting him go.

           He more or less was shoving him against the wall, but Kenny didn’t seem to be complaining. On the contrary, Kenny seemed perfectly happy to let Kyle lead and follow along with whatever he wanted. The boy smelled like, well, Kenny, familiar to Kyle as his own home. It was so easy to relax against him, turn the whirlwind into something soft and sweet.

           Kenny moved his other hand to the small of his back, pulling Kyle back against him until they were more or less pressed against each other. His own arms wrapped around Kenny’s neck, scratching against the wall of the school. Kenny radiated heat, through his lips and body, making Kyle feel warm. Relaxed, happy.

           He broke for air, Kenny moving back in to press quick, sweet kisses all over his lips and cheeks. Kyle laughed, wrinkling his nose under the ticklishness.

           Kenny giggled as well, leaving him both laughing at each other out in an alleyway in the cold. Kyle pulled him into a hug, nuzzling against him and feeling Kenny wrap his arms around his frame.

           Neither said anything, but really nothing needed to be said. It was just quiet, the murmur of people indoors and nothing else. It was warm, it was home. Kyle closed his eyes, just soaking it in. Kenny didn’t complain, just rested his cheek against his curls.

           Honestly, they should probably talk about this, too, but somehow Kyle felt like they both understood. He turned to press a kiss to his neck, feeling Kenny gasp more than hearing it, before moving back to look up at him.

           “I’m going to find out what’s happening to you,” Kyle said, looking up at Kenny with fierce eyes.

           Kenny seemed to struggle with something before nodding. Kyle could guess.

           “I will,” He murmured, mind set. “Just you watch.”

           The smile that spread over his face was fucking sunshine. Beautiful mosaic eyes softened to reveal vulnerability of a sort, something like love. “If anyone could, Kyle, it’s definitely you.”

           Kyle smiled as well, and leaned back in.