#I’m showing this to my therapist and I barely even regret it

[thestarlightforge]

WFA coming for my THROAT?!

[metamorphosisff]

|Chapter 17| Spread Your Wings

The dark cloud that had been hovering over me had started to dissipate last week around the same time I met with a therapist for the first time. My reaction to Trevor tearing my apartment to shreds did not stop at pulling away from Xavier. The week after I barely went outside out of work and spent hours in bed crying. Crying because one man’s entitlement had upended so much, most importantly the illusion that I was keeping it together. Mari was not having that though and after exactly seven days after that she stormed into my apartment to shake me out of it. That day we went shopping all over downtown Brooklyn to get new things for the living room. We were even able to find small vials for the remaining ashes of my grandmother I managed to save. It was what I needed to start feeling human but I went through the motions the following week. It wasn’t until Jazz dragged us to some off Broadway play that I slowly realized I owed it to myself to get help. So I started therapy because a wise man once told me talking about my problems might make them easier to get through. 

Sweeping a glance over my apartment as I got my purse together, my mind projects Xavier standing before me with those eyes glossed over in as much pain as I was in. Taking a deep breath, I shake away the memory. I prayed he was doing okay because for the moment it felt safer to keep my distance. I had put too much onto him which was not fair. He had his own problems to contend with and expecting him to add mine into the mix wasn’t sensible. That did not mean his absence wasn’t felt though because a day had yet to go by without me thinking of him. 

The sound of my phone ringing with an incoming Facetime made me roll my eyes. I was trying to head out and get some food but that would have to wait because it was Lonso who was calling. We haven’t spoken in a few weeks so there was no way I could miss his call without him going off on a tangent in our text thread.

“Hey,” I greeted, once his bronze face filled the screen. His curls were shorn close to the scalp in the way military men often sported their hair. He was dressed in uniform and sitting in a nondescript office with a pair of slate gray AirPod Maxes over his ears. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, I was just thinking about you and decided to call. I am surprised you answered though since you seem to specialize in dodging me,” he said, with a pointed stare. 

“Don’t make me regret doing so by being an ass,” I said, with a roll of my eyes which he chuckles at.

“I’m fucking with you, partly. I worry about you and it doesn’t always show in the best of ways,” he said.

“That’s putting it modestly. You are overbearing at best and a pain in the ass at least. There is never any in between with you. I can’t handle that,” I said, finally coming clean about why I avoided conversations with him. Well, one of the reasons. The main reason.

“Cause you be hiding shit when I can help you. Like why Mari had to tell me about what that nigga did?” Lonso asked, folding his hands in front of him. His frustration was slow to start, opposite of mine which was explosive but I can tell he was trying to remain calm so we could have a full conversation. “Like what the fuck Jamila? You know I would have found a way to come up here.”

“And do what? He’s locked up and not coming out for a long ass time. I handled it,” I said, raking my hand over tangled curls. My hair hadn’t been a priority lately but it needed to become one. I made a mental note to take care of it while Lonzo shook his head at me.

“Be there! I could have helped you clean up and replace stuff. What happened was scary as fuck and to hear about it from someone else days later hurt. I can’t lie,” Lonzo said.

“I’m not trying to hurt you on purpose. I’m just used to doing things by myself and asking for help is hard because I don’t like being let down,” I said.

There had been so many times when I was a teenager that I asked for help and people always feel short or never fully followed through. After a few times I realized the only person I could count on in this world was me. Life became easier once I accepted that I had to make sure I was okay at the end of the day. While I did have some help from Mari, I tried not to lean on her too much because raising Papi was a lot. With her I was decisive about what I decided to let her in on as not to worry her. It never even crossed my mind to tell Lonzo about what happened because he wasn’t in my daily orbit. He had been reduced to unanswered calls and texts I’d sometimes reply to depending on my mood.

Nodding his head, he said, “I get that but I haven’t let you down. Anything I ever said I was going to do, I did even when I was broke.”

That was true especially when I was in college and struggling to feed myself after paying rent. Lonzo found a way to send me a hundred dollars every two weeks until I got a better job. Almost a whole year he did that. When I got the flu bad one year he came up from Virginia to take care of me because Mari, having a toddler at the time, couldn't. However it was during that time that he decided he had to hover over every decision I made. 

“Our parents made some terrible decisions that affected us differently and I hate that you got the shorter end of the stick. The one thing they did right was us though. I don’t want us to keep on the way we are, sniping at each other because we used to be close. If you died with our relationship being like it is…,” he stopped to take a deep breath. Lonso wasn’t an emotional person so to see his eyes redden caused mine to as well.

He looked away from the screen for a second but I caught the way his bottom lip trembled and immediately I felt bad. 

“I thought about that too,” I said, taking a shaky breath. “I don’t want to fight with you Lonso, I swear I don’t but I need you to be my brother, not my de facto parental figure. I’m grown now and yes sometimes I struggle but I always find my way.”

“You do and I’m not taking that from you but there’s no harm in letting other people walk beside you. I worry about you, I haven’t stopped worrying about you since the day we left,” Lonso said.

That had been a shitty day because Ms. Lena didn’t let anyone know the day of the move. Later she explained that she didn’t want to be talked out of her decision or be further manipulated by my parents. When I got older, I somewhat understood where she was coming from but that didn’t take away from how cruel the act was. Our father had to physically rip Lonzo from me because even at fourteen he knew what leaving would mean. 

“I’ve been hearing that a lot lately. Guess that means I should listen huh?” I said, causing him to smirk.

“That’s exactly what that shit means,” he cracked.

“I’m going to do better,” I said, drumming my fingers on the counter top.

“Me too MiMi, me too.”

Hearing my childhood nickname doesn’t make me cringe like it normally does when he uses it. For the first time in a long time, we smile at each other.

It’s late at night and try as I might, I can not fall asleep which isn’t a surprise. Insomnia had been a dear friend ever since the tornado known as Trevor ripped through my apartment. He took away my ability to feel safe in the home I grew up in and I would hate him forever for that. Having enough tossing and turning, I get up and slide on some sweatpants. Grabbing my keys and phone, I head across the hall to let myself into Mari’s apartment. The light in the living room is on but everything else is off leaving the apartment quiet with the exception of humming appliances. Out of habit, I pad my way down the hallway and stop at the first door on the left. Slowly I turn the knob and find Papi with a sheet over his and a glow coming from a screen alongside the sounds of a video game. Flipping on the light, I watch amused as he quickly pokes his head out.

“Auntie?” he questions, eyes blinking to adjust to the light. He takes one look at me and knows something is off but like the intuitive kid he is, doesn’t press me. Instead he lifts his Switch in the air. “You tryna play?”

“Hell yeah,” I said, walking over to sit beside him. 

“If I win, can I stay up for at least another hour?” he asks, knowing I’m about to tell him this is his last round of whatever he’s playing.

“Yes but if I win, it’s light out. It’s already going on eleven and your mom will kill us both if you're still up when she gets home,” I said.

“True,” he said, as he passed me a controller. Propping up the Switch, I see we’re playing Mario Kart. “I couldn’t sleep though.”

“Me either. Anything in particular on your mind?” I ask, as he starts the round.

“Yeah I was thinking about how our building needs better security. Like if our door downstairs actually locked how it was supposed to that nig- I mean that bum wouldn’t have been able to do what he did,” Papi said.

“Maybe,” I said, trying to figure out how to approach this conversation with him. “But I don’t want you worrying about that okay?”

“I can’t help it. That was messed up and I hope your boyfriend beats his ass,” Papi said.

I tear my eyes away from the screen just in time to see the serious expression etched across his features. His eyebrows are sunken as his lips twist to the side.

“Xavier is not my boyfriend and stop cursing,” I said.

“Yes he is, he takes you out and makes you happy. He also buys me stuff by the way. Can you tell him I’d like some more X-Men stuff?” he asked.

“I’ll see what I can do Papi but I make no promises,” I said.

“I’ll take that,” Papi says, causing me to chuckle.

We end up going for best out of three when he wins the first but in the end I let him have his extra hour. With one last warning for him to keep his eye on the clock because I will deny agreeing to let him stay up if caught, I leave him to his lonesome and go into the living room. 

As I snuggle into the couch to wait for Mari to come home, my phone vibrates against my thigh where it is resting. Seeing Xavier’s name on the screen on the text notification sends my heart racing against my chest. Papi spoke him up and he must have heard it from wherever he was. My hands grow sweaty as I unlock my phone to read the message.

Hey, I know you still taking your time but I just want you to know that I love you and I miss you. I especially miss you talking during our Marvel marathon. I think I miss your snoring too (not the sound but knowing you're that close). Nothing and I mean nothing, will ever change that baby. I’m here. Take your time.

Hot tears splash onto the screen by the time I have reread the message for the tenth time. A weight is removed slightly from my shoulders but there is no real reprieve. I want so badly to call him but I toss my phone to the side. I’m not ready to talk to him but I should be. 

The scent of Jam fills the air as Mari takes a rat tail comb and makes another part in the back of my head. After waking up and sending Papi outside to play, we decided today would help each other with our hair. I had touched up the bleach on her roots once we finished eating breakfast and now she was returning the favor. I turned my phone over and over in my hands contemplating what I was going to say to Xavier. Contemplating if I was ready to say something at all. I had resolved that he should hear from me last night and thought sleeping on it would help me get there. All I’ve managed to do is lament on the fact that in a dark moment I pushed him away instead of embracing the lifeline he was tossing me. I did not have to face the aftermath of Trevor’s destructive behavior alone but I chose to because cleaning up other people’s messes alone was second nature to me. I did not want to have an audience but that’s not what he was offering. He was offering a helping hand and it took me longer than it should have to realize that.

“I miss him,” I sighed, raking my hand over the few finished braids Mari had placed over my shoulder. 

“So call him,” Mari said, as that was the simplest thing ever after the month of silence between us. The text he sent last night still has my heart racing and made me realize how much I miss his presence in my life. “And before you start, no, it’s really not that hard.”

I open my mouth to respond but my phone ringing in my hands steals my attention. A picture of Jazz and I fills the screen with an incoming Facetime call. I hit the green button to accept it and in seconds, she’s filling the screen with a full beat face and a slicked back black ponytail. 

“You called right on time Jazz, your daughter is in here tripping,” Mari says, peeking from behind me. 

Jazz cackles while I shoot Mari a side eye which she ignores with a mush of my head and a command to keep my head down. I adjust how I’m holding the phone, lowering it further into my lap so that Jazz can see my face and Mari can braid comfortably.

“Gon’ head and tell me what’s going on Birdie. I see it all over your face,” Jazz said, adjusting her AirPod. I can tell she’s on break at the center she works at because this is when she usually calls me to check in or to confirm any upcoming plans.

“Xavier texted me last night and it made me realize that I miss him…a lot actually,” I sighed. 

“I’m not hearing the problem. Not only has Mr. Clipboard been respecting the space you asked for but he didn’t take it as a dismissal. He probably reaffirmed that he loved you, right?” Jazz asked. 

I nodded my head and am reminded by Mari, gently putting it at the right angle to keep still. “He did but-

“But what?” Mari sighed exasperatedly behind me. “You love that nigga real bad.”

“And do,” Jazz chimed in, causing them to laugh. 

“But,” I said, over them, “I blinked and a month went by y’all. There are things broken in me that I thought I could ignore but I can’t and I don’t know if time will ever fix it. He doesn’t deserve the mess that I am.”

“Now that ain’t never been a kept secret baby girl and Xavier has always known that you have some baggage. I’m sure he has his own because we all have our shit Birdie but that’s a lazy excuse to push him away. It sounds like you have let your fear get comfortable in the driver's seat,” Jazz said, instantly calling me to task.

She has a keen sense of knowing when I’m stepping around an answer. Where Mari has gotten used to waiting me out, Jazz has no patience for it. 

“I’m afraid that one day he’s going to decide that he can’t handle me or my shit. Like he’ll realize maybe I’m not worth the trouble after all and I know how fucked up that sounds. My therapist says it’s easy to talk ourselves out of a good thing but I don’t know. It keeps me up at night because I have never been loved like he loves me and we have only scratched the surface of what we could be,” I said. 

“Your therapist is right. Love is a risk, being vulnerable and open is a risk, not loving at all is a risk. Everything in life comes with a risk even the choice to do nothing is a risk because you might miss out on your person or an opportunity. Ultimately you have to decide what outcome you can live with,” Jazz said. 

“Right, and missing out on Xavier will be one of the dumbest things you have ever done and I’ve watched you shave your eyebrows off,” Mari added.

“Regardless of how much he loves you, you have to love yourself and believe you are worthy because your worthiness is eternal. It shows in your attitude, in your walk, in your eyes. Some days will be harder than others to do so but you have to,” Jazz said.

“Sure do and Mila, babe putting Xavier to the side for a moment, you have been more mindful lately. Less snappy and more patient. That little orange vest stint put some things in perspective for you and he came along while you were already in motion,” Mari said. 

“I’m trying but I feel like that shit with Trevor’s dumb ass set me back because bad things keep happening and I realize I never had a break. There is always something and I want there to be peace so bad. In order for me to be at peace I have to heal but my healing is always interrupted and that makes me want to give up. Why is maintaining change so fucking hard?” I sighed, feeling tears align the bottom of my eyes. 

I was sick and tired of crying. Ever since that night I do it easily and it leaves me feeling like a constant torrential downpour. The dam I put up in my teen years had eroded and there was no longer anything between me and my feelings. Though I’m exhausted from crying these last few weeks I let these tears fall too because they feel different. They aren’t sad, they are cleansing. 

“Because change is scary but remaining the same keeps you stagnant and you can’t grow that way Birdie. Actually, that’s the quickest way to die. You deserve to live not just survive but live and you are well on your own way. This really is the time to push past against all your fear and hesitation. You’ll be better for it in the long run,” Jazz said.

Not just live but survive. 

Taking a deep breath, I nodded my head because Jazz was right. I was taking the steps to better my life by going to job interviews, working on my attitude, trying to fix my relationship with my brother and getting my therapist. I deserved the happiness I got from and with Xavier to balance out all of the rest. 

“Y’all are right,” I breathed out. “I just get stuck in my head sometimes and that inner voice is a bitch to drown out.”

“That’s why we’re here. To be loud as hell and tell you to chill the hell out and go get your man,” Mari said, placing a kiss to the top of my head.

“Period. Take life by the reins Birdie and I’ll see y’all for brunch this weekend. Can’t wait to hear how it goes. Toodles,” Jazz says with a quick wave as someone enters her office calling her name. She makes an annoyed expression before slapping on a quick smile which we laugh at as we wave back. Shortly the call disconnects and I lock my phone back.

“I love how she makes plans and just expects us to show up, any other plans or obligations be damned,” Mari giggles as she finishes another braid.

“I’ve learned to embrace it. Her plans have been a bright spot this past month,” I sniffle, as I wipe the last of my tears from my cheeks.

“Agreed, be giving me something to do other than work and cart Papi around,” Mari says, as she makes a new part. “But back to you real quick. Text him back right now. You have had your space but he deserves for his effort to be met with some of your own.”

I nod my head and unlock my phone. “Never thought I’d see the day you would be on a man's side.”

“He’s not just any man, he is the man that returned your real smile. So unless he does something extremely out of pocket, I fuck with him,” Mari said. 

Her approval means the world to me because Mari is the only family I see every day. Without her I would be adrift and I haven’t always brought the best people around. Xavier passed both her and Papi’s test without even having to try hard because he’s a genuinely good person. Opening up our text thread I try to type out a message but nothing feels adequate enough.

“What time do you think you’ll be done with my hair?” I asked.

“In like maybe two hours and no, you cannot wait until after I’m done to text him because that defeats the purpose of me saying ‘right now’ girl,” Mari said.

“That’s not why I’m asking. What I need to say, shouldn’t be done through text. I’m going to go see him,” I said, turning around to look at her. 

Throwing her hands up in the air, Mari shouts, “Hallelujah! She has awakened with the spirit of common sense.”

“Not too much on me!”

[aftonfamilyvalues]

I am terrified if men.

I mean my father did everything to me but rape me. And he’d assert dominance over me /threaten me because he didn’t want other guys to sleep with me, date me, didn’t want me to get married, etc.

I’m no contact and he knows better than to contact me because if he does I’ll take legal action. My mom died and she was the one protecting him.

I seek therapy because I want to heal and am repeatedly invalidated about my trauma and about the reality that most men are abusive, sexual predators.

I’ve expressed that I’m sad I didn’t experience ge t romantic love..

Which is only to say that I’m all about separatism and even though I’m not dating men cause I’m traumatized by them, I have this regret over not having been able to explore a healthy sexuality, and a fear of missing out.

The last therapist I had was malicious/emotional abusive. Would read and be on the computer during sessions and deny doing it. Claimed I talked to much, (bad luck with this super narcissistic, very misogynistic old woman, grandmother /in her 60’s,) she ignored me /was very devaluing, then perked up “it can happen at any age!” She either thought I was lying or l exaggerating about being abused, or/and definitely not listening because I’ve never expressed wanting a bf or a husband, ever. Of course I did as a teenager/child. It’s honestly so demoralizing when even a therapist views you as inferior and like your being single is a problem and thinks you’re talking too much and attention seeking.

I’ve never not had a female therapist downplay or invalidate my trauma and male violence. I wish there were more feminist based pyschotherapists / bare minimum, therapists who do not project their family values Bullshit. I’ve never not have had a therapist view me as the problem to all my experiences. I’ve therapists judge me and treat me as subhuman for being childfree and single.

I def need therapy as I’m so traumatized that I’m scared to sleep and not sleeping anymore and it’s impacting my health. I also can’t regulate my emotions well and I’m a fearful avoidant with ptsd, some folks say therapist isn’t necessary because most are bad. I’d honestly argue most therapists have very misogynistic beliefs…

Is there any way to ver that out. I get so gaslight I lost my sense of self/ I’ve had to recover from bad therapy but once out of therapy I start feeling less crazy… I do we’ll months on my own without talking to someone but then need therapi.

I’m legitimently scared of them at this point. I did give my last therapist feed back about her behavior, when I told her “I’m a person, and I don’t deserve this treatment” and then responded with “I don’t believe you” she raged and yelled at me, blaming me for her being distracted, telling me I talked too much.

I’m started to lose hope however that there are therapists who recognize patriarchy and oppression as a root cause to mental illness, rather than a partner as a cure for mental illness 🙄without claiming I’m the problem when I’m the one showing up to therapy for what happened to me. Therapists all just think their patients are mentally I’ll crazy women who can’t get a man. I feel insane when I go to therapy. Because I’m terrified of men and the focus is never on me as an individual, but (I shit you not, and tbh I even told her she was giving me harmful advice,) but tk shift the focus on my “distortion” of why I think I “can’t have that now.”

(I actually believe there are good therapists in just scared to open up now /be devalued/have a therapist not even treat seperatism as viable or even suggest it to me as an option. I don’t need a therapist to suggest it to me but I’d trust one much better who did. It sucks leaving a therapy session feeling worse because you don’t feel good enough.)

I really think most therapists are sexists because they have male bias

i think ive mentioned it before but therapy is more of a business nowadays. all these therapists arent people that actually want to help, very few of them do, most of them saw a growing industry and decided they could bank on it. they dont care to help and heal, they view therapy as a way to make someone (women) "normal" and fit in to society rather than working through trauma and have a healthy life, even if that life isnt the typical one. ive also seen a lot of therapists feed into bad behavior, validating the emotions and victim complexes of abusers all while teaching them a new progressive language to wield against their victims. i still think about how my friend went to therapy and the entire time going culminated into the conclusion of "your life sucks and theres nothing you can do about it" like what???? it seems like traumatized people come out of these sessions worse and i have no doubt that abusers are going into this field to extend their reach. i feel like the more people glamorize therapy the more this is going to happen.

[anxiousocdturtle93]

Day 8: Stressors and ED

I don’t matter.

I don’t matter if I am here or to work.

Those thoughts that I’ve had for years creep up. The depression that is waiting it’s turn for me to lose it finally shows up. And the PTSD is heightened as the new year is here. Of course, don’t forget the anxiety. That’s where things make an appearance. It’s like your favorite singer or that popular person who just enters down a grand staircase and everyone is in awe. Think Heathers: The Musical. That’s how the anxiety feels.

And why do I say that?

I am a person who works for most of my bosses who just uses me for money. And, what it feels like, will throw my position to the new teacher. And it probably was my fault for telling her I wasn’t a certified music teacher. But I didn’t feel comfortable teaching a whole bunch of kids like that. That’s a disservice to them. Group classes for piano, I can do that no problem.

“Why isn’t it the same as teaching regular kids?” Some kids want to be there for piano lessons. Some want to learn. When you have a big group, well I hope you enjoy it. Sincerely I hope you do. Because I don’t. I like 5 kids at max so I can focus on them and help enrich them to the best potential I can. Because I know they can.

I regret being a music teacher. I teach privately but I have to find contract work. And that’s where 4 schools have me as a contract worker (not all are horrible with the directors). Performing makes me so nervous, so that’s out. I’m not saying teaching is easy, but I should have rethought things. But maybe that’s because it felt impossible back in high school.

“So why can’t you go back to school?” I am dumber than bricks. I can’t do math at all. Science would be cool but that’s years to complete. Being a lawyer I would fail. I can never make it in the world now. Going back to school is near impossible. I barely have enough money to be safe. Summer is the worst part and trying to make it through the summer before you MIGHT get some money.

I will be working 7 days now. I have to. Which means there is that ED that is now prevalent even more. It already comes out when I’m stressed/anxious. I feel like hurting myself this time but that ended so well. Sswsse And I just figured that out this week. As I’m trying to type this, I remember that tomorrow I have a faculty meeting in a new school. And I don’t know how to feel about it. I can tell you my stomach is in knots and I feel like I’m going to be sick.

How pathetic. And all the food I had today, I feel the need not to. I made progress since Tuesday and now I’m back pedaling. And I don’t completely want too. But I would like to not feel shitty. And there’s the restrictive behavior but it’s also mental. I’m trying what my therapist said to do when I’m spiraling this week.

Where is it bothering you? Check other parts of the body? Neck, jaw because I clench, deep breath and focus where it’s going. Relax the shoulders. Remember to sit up don’t focus on the trigger. Just listen to the body.

And I guess that’s where I’m going to leave this tonight. Listen to your body. If needs to be fed and watered, so I’m going to do my best at the moment.

Good luck, lovelies.

If you are in a crisis and need help immediately, call 988 or continue to contact Crisis Text Line by texting “NEDA” to 741741 to be connected with a trained volunteer at Crisis Text Line.

[rommahh]

{this show was off the walls. He looked so good. And the energy was just??}

You stood uncomfortably at your flights gate with Harry. After being with Harry for five shows, your anxiety had reached a peak leaving you to be faced with one of your worst panic attacks before the St. Louis show. Harry didn’t want you to feel so much mental pressure so he suggested that you go home, he even bought you a ticket without consulting with you.

Your shoulders were tense as you stood rigid next to Harry. You were beyond upset and sad. You felt like a burden who being sent away to make everyone else feel better.

“Love, it will be ok. I’ll see you in two weeks for the Nashville show.” Harry comments watching your face scrunch up withholding the tears. “I just want you to see your therapist for a few days.”

“I don’t wanna go. It was one panic attack. Ive done fine every other night and on the bus.” You huff not making eye contact with Harry. “You’re just sending me away.”

Harry feels his heart break in two. “That’s not-“

“We are now welcoming our first class passengers.” He was cut off by the attendant. You grab your duffle on the ground, opening your phone to the electronic ticket. You moved to get in the line but Harry was quick to grab your arm to stop you. You couldn’t stop the tears from welling in your eyes at the look of hurt on his face.

“You’re not even gonna say goodbye?” He whispers.

“Why should I? You said it for me when you purchased the ticket without even talking to me about it. I’ll call you when I land, I love you and goodbye.” You snatched your arm away, rushing to the slowly growing line of passengers.

Harry watched in defeat as you trudged onto the bridge that boarded onto the plane. You felt those traitorous tears push past the surface, your feet feeling like they were dragging behind you- wanting you to go back to your heart.

The entire flight home was painful. All hours spent on the flight looking lifelessly out of the window. Harry put you in first class but none of the comfortable perks could make you happy.

It was weird to walk back into your home with no one there walking in with you or even waiting for you. The house was dark and quiet and you felt scared to even be in the stupid beach side mansion all alone. Times like this made you regret moving in with Harry. This house only felt like home when he was there, any other time felt like your own personal solitary confinement.

Hey lovie, hope you’re flight went well. Having groceries delivered to the house for you. I love you and miss you. Xxx H.

You scoffed. That anger from before bubbling within you. He misses you? You left him on read, the pettiness easing the anger.

Harry’s eyebrows shot up at the small read notification under his sent message. He waited a few moments thinking maybe you just forgot to press send. Minutes turned to hours and hours turned into the next day.

You sat at the dining room table watching the waves eat up the sand and pull granules away at a time. Your laptop sat in front of you after you finished a telehealth therapy appointment. A ring sounded from the laptop signaling that someone was FaceTiming you.

Harry’s icon popped up in the corner of the screen. You hesitated before answering. You couldn’t bare to look at yourself in the camera knowing you looked a mess. Your eyes swollen from the sobbing during therapy. Harry thought you looked beautiful nonetheless.

“Good morning baby.” He broke the silence.

“Hi.” Was all you could muster. This wasn’t the two of you. You both would normally fill a space with sound and giggles and now it was just silence.

“How did you sleep?” He asks. He looked as disheveled as you. Hair messy, face red and puffy.

“Fine.” You didn’t look at him, playing with the frayed edges of your Live on Tour hoodie. Harry huffed in frustration.

“Is this how it will be from now on?” He snapped. Your head snapped up out of shock.

“You’re getting at me like somethings my fault!” You snapped back.

“Well, we didn’t leave on the right foot.”

“You sent me away!” You retaliate.

“No, I did not. You had a panic attack before I went on stage. I had to come on stage late because I was consoling you.”

You flinched at his comment and tone of voice.

“So it’s my fault? I can’t control the panic attacks. It wasn’t like I conjured one up for attention.” His lack of response broke you. “Really?”

“No, I don’t think you did it for attention but it’s a lot Y/N. I want to take you on tour with me but it’s a lot for me and you know it’s a lot for you.” He tries. His words hurt though. You’ve felt like a burden your entire life and to feel that way because of the love of your life hurts even more.

“Ok. Um, I have to go.” You choke out. Harry shakes his head, the weight of his words catching up with you.

“I didn’t mean it in that way. I love you and I only want to protect you.”

“Yeah, protect me by sending me away when things get tough. I’m sorry for being a burden Harry.” You hang up before he could get the last word in.

Harry sat on his hotel bed shocked. He doesn’t know how things escalated the way they did. He made her feel like a burden. His body racks with sobs as he thinks of how his love must be feeling.

The day of Harry’s Philly show you felt uneasy. You didn’t like not being with Harry. You got so used to your preshow rituals with him. It hurt to be left out after being so involved.

Harry felt the same way. His regret evident in the way that he couldn’t stop blowing up your phone with short apologies and messages. He woke up alone in the hotel room on the day of a show feeling like utter crap.

His stomach was in knots and his heart couldn’t stop pounding. Normally before a show you both would share a light meal and have small discussions about nothing. You both would take silly selfies together or watch tiktoks. But now it was just Harry.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, impulsively clicking your contact to face time.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up…” He mutters. He lets out a sigh of relief when your face reveals.

“Hi, Harry.” You murmur, your face squished into a pillow, his pillow because it smells good.

“Hi-hi baby.” He stutters fidgeting in his seat.

“What do you need?”

“I need you. You’re not a burden. I want you here, not there but here. I have a show in a few hours and all I can think about is how you’re not here with me.” He cries. You sit up in the bed, tearing up watching your boyfriend cry. His shoulders shook with the sobs that wracked through his chest.

“Harry, please breathe. Your gonna hurt yourself.” You try to calm him down but can tell it’s not working.

“Come back.” He whimpers.

“I-I think I’m going to stay home until Nashville. We both need a breather from each other and I know I need to see my psychiatrist and probably get some new anxiety medication. Which will take the two weeks to kick in you know?” You reason. Harry wiped his face of tears nodding understandingly.

“Ok. I miss you though. I fucked up horribly by making you feel less than. I know you’re not a burden and I’d do anything for you. The stress of tour is starting to weigh on me and I took it out in you when I shouldnt have. I also thought I was keeping you safe by sending you home, but I shouldn’t have done that. Because we are a team, I shouldn’t be making choices for you.”

“Thank you for apologizing. I understand why you did what you did. You were trying to protect me, I know. I love you Bubby.” Harry felt his world come back together at the nickname, a signal that you two would be alright. “You have a show in like three hours, you need to get ready. Eat some food, drink water please, and I’ll go and scroll through TikTok and send you all of my faves ok?”

“Ok. Thank you for being everything to me. I couldn’t do what I do today if I didn’t have you in my life.” Harry’s sincerity made your heart swell.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. We will be alright. Now go!” You urged him to hang up the phone. He gave you one last smile before hanging up.

Watching Harry through some Instagram live wasn’t what you had planned for but it felt good to see him. He even wore the outfit you picked out with Harry lambert, the blue and pink paying homage to fine line. You’re heart gushes when he tells the crowd that he’s feeling really happy.

The next day you have another therapy appointment with your regular therapist, you even phone in Harry to join the call. You felt warm on the inside as your therapist reassured that you and Harry’s relationship was on the right path. She even said that you and Harry were meant to be together.

She didn’t have to tell Harry that for him to already know that information. I mean he had the ring sitting in his pocket to prove it.

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

Born to Run: Prologue

Okay, I guess I'm REALLY DOING THIS?!? Holy fuck. Here we go.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Marathon Runner f!reader (no y/n)

Rating: E for eventual smut

Warnings: Marcus is having a bit of a breakdown, violence against paper towel dispensers (one [1] punch), Marcus being a bit of a dick in this part, but again, he's going through it. It will get better!

A/N: This is self-indulgent to the max and I make no apologies. This came out of a little fantasy I would weave for myself as I--you guessed it--trained for a marathon. I spent 18 weeks writing out this little story in my head during my long runs. I’ll be honest, the real fantasy I “wrote” in my head featured our favorite chaotic disaster man himself, but since I don’t fuck with RPF personally, enter Marcus Pike! This Marcus is a sweet cinnamon roll with a little bit of darkness in the center for uh… added spice. He’s got some anger issues inside, but he’s got good coping skills from a therapist because we love a man who works on himself, folks. And that’s why we see such a sweet, unassuming man in the show. I’ve never watched a whole episode of The Mentalist and I’m SURE it shows. Any inaccuracies or inconsistencies are due to my ignorance of the show outside of ‘Marcus Pike can GET IT.’ Any other character in Marcus’s world is completely, 100% made up by me because I have no idea who’s actually in the show. I’ve been avidly consuming fanfic for 15 years or so, and this is my first fic, so (gentle) comments are appreciated! Come say hi! Let me know if you want to be tagged for future updates!

Chapter 1

Prologue

As he took his first sip of blissfully hot coffee, Marcus Pike took in the view from the large, wraparound porch of his home for the next 7 days for the very first time. The storms that had awakened him before even a hint of sunrise touched the sky had passed through, leaving in their wake a pink-tinged woodscape, the leaves still drip-dripping with rain. For all his early resistance to the idea, a vacation to the middle of nowhere was starting to seem better and better. Not that he had any choice in the matter, he thought ruefully.

The devastating rejection still stung in his mind. A week after Theresa dumped him via text message, he felt like he was barely hanging on to his sanity. One week of haunting his office, the streets, and his apartment like a distracted ghost, unconcerned with the changes in location. Only passing from place to place because habit dictated it. Only working because that’s all he knew to do at the moment.

He found himself in the 3rd floor bathroom on a gray Tuesday, gripping the sink with white knuckled fingers. All the methods to ground himself that he learned from his therapist, whom he saw in his early twenties when he was new to adulthood and full of that misplaced sort of rage that some young men feel when they first begin those stumbling steps into manhood, were failing him. His entire body ached with tension. God, it’s like a migraine, but all over, he thought. He struggled to breathe through the weight in his chest. In fact, it felt like the rapidly increasing inhales he took were barely carrying any oxygen to his cells. His lungs couldn’t inflate enough. He took one final gasping breath before he unclenched the sink with one fist and, before the rest of his body caught up with the action, swung it at the towel dispenser.

He regretted it just before the inevitable collision. Idiot, he mumbled to himself, as he finally took a few slow, steadying breaths (counting to four for each inhale and exhale in time with the heartbeat that he now felt in his hand). It had been years since he had taken out his anger in such a childish way, and it felt worse than he remembered (in part due to the remorse he now felt as a grown-ass man expressing his anger with violence like some child). Now he had bloody knuckles to deal with on top of everything else, and he stalked down the hallway to the break room and the first aid kit.

Marcus returned from his lunch break (spent trying to work out his frustrations at the gym while pointedly ignoring his aching hand) to find a printout of a VRBO listing for a cabin in rural Kentucky sitting on his keyboard. Patricia, the senior office administrator and the person that every college intern referred to as their ‘work mom’, knocked tentatively on the door frame as Marcus studied the paper with a bemused expression. He looked up.

“Do you know anything about this?”

“I’m the one who left it there,” Patricia confessed with a voice that, even though lowered by too many years of cigarettes, was warm and caring, in the no-nonsense, ‘you’ll-listen-if-you-know-what’s-good-for-you’ sort of care. “Marcus, the whole office agrees--you need to take some time off. You’re driving everyone crazy. They’re all walking on eggshells around you.”

“They don’t need to walk on--”

“Marcus, you’ve been snapping at everyone all week. You yelled at an intern over a fax machine on Friday. A fax machine, for Christ’s sake!”

“He asked me why the paper still came out the other end! Like a fax physically sends the damn thing to another place! YOU try explaining how faxes work five times to some college freshman who still doesn’t get it!”

“I get it, Marcus, I do.” Her gaze turns sympathetic as she puts her hand on his shoulder. “But the bags under your eyes have their own bags. You’re running yourself ragged.”

“I don’t--”

“I know you’re doing it to cope, but you can’t keep doing this to yourself. Or the interns, or let’s face it, Marcus, the whole damn department!”

“I don’t know how a vacation to the middle-of-nowhere is supposed to help. I need to stay busy, I’ll go crazy out there, you know?”

“It’s a beautiful cabin, Marcus. The property backs up onto a paved bike trail, the whole thing’s wooded, it’s as rural as you can get while still only being about 20 minutes from downtown--”

“Listen, I appreciate the idea, Patricia, I really do. I can’t-- I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t at least have the work--”

“Look, we insist. In fact, it’s already been paid for and your, uh, request for a week’s PTO has already been approved.”

“My what?? Patricia…” Marcus tossed the paper back down on his desk and brought his hands to the sides of his nose in frustration. “What do you mean, we insist? Who insists?”

“The whole department. This was kind of a group effort.”

“You all pitched in to rent me a cabin for a week?” Marcus asked, feeling touched despite himself.

Patricia suddenly found the scuff on the floor near the wall to be very interesting, indeed. “Actually, you rented you the cabin for the week.”

“I… I rented--? How?”

“Thompson accidentally noticed that you uh, you left your credit card in the top drawer of your desk, and we kind of, um, borrowed it.”

“He ‘accidentally noticed’ that I left my credit card in a closed drawer?”

“Mmhmm.” Patricia inspected her long, red manicure through her cat’s eye bifocal glasses.

“When, ah… When do I leave for this ‘vacation’ that I so willingly purchased for myself?” Marcus gritted out through his teeth.

“Friday after work.”

Marcus’s jaw clenched, and ticked slightly to one side in obvious irritation.

Patricia at least had the decency to look remorseful.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was late when he had finally arrived at his destination. Exhausted from travel and heartbreak, Marcus had passed through the dark house, paying little attention to the cozy but updated kitchen, the impressive stone fireplace, or the panoramic windows in the living room. He single-mindedly dragged his suitcase (and his own miserable feet) down a wooden-beamed hallway to what he had hoped was the bedroom.

He dumped his suitcase unceremoniously on the plush armchair in the corner and nearly threw himself, messenger bag and all, down onto the quilted bed. Letting out an exhale for what felt like the first time in hours, he felt a little of the tension he carried leave his body. Only a little. His shoulders still ached with the feeling of uneasiness and every breath still seemed to struggle against the weight in his chest.

Marcus shrugged out of his shirt and pants, all while only lifting his body off of the mattress when absolutely necessary. He rummaged through his messenger bag for his phone charger and hastily plugged it in, before setting the bag haphazardly next to the bed. He pulled the quilt over himself and turned off the bedside lamp. The room was blanketed in the most complete darkness Marcus had ever experienced. The familiar haze of streetlights coming through his apartment windows even at the latest of hours was, of course, absent here. Even if expected, the magnitude of the darkness was still a surprise. The only illumination came from the faint blue glow of Marcus’s phone charging. He curiously removed it from the charger for a moment. There was no difference in his field of vision when he blinked his eyes open and shut several times. Resisting the urge to turn on a hall light and crack the door like a toddler scared of a monster under his bed, Marcus plugged his phone back in, rolled over, and closed his eyes again.

The city sounds he was accustomed to were replaced by a different sort of cacophony. The constant peep-peep-peep of small frogs from a small pond somewhere on the property. The creaking of branches every time the wind blew through the trees. He could hear the rustling of other small, unknown nocturnal animals making their way through the undergrowth. Then there was the ceaseless droning of crickets, adding the final piece to this unfamiliar sound tapestry of the rural midwest. Even so, Marcus thought it was far too quiet to soothe the loudness he felt in his mind. How was he going to survive a week of being alone with his thoughts, with nothing to do but stare at the trees? Eventually, the thoughts swirling through his head quieted, and he fell asleep.

When the thunderstorm woke him up from a blessedly dreamless sleep, he lay in bed watching flash after flash of lightning lance through the still-dark room, and listened to the wind lashing through the trees and the rain pounding the small cabin. The violence of the storm seemed to calm his own internal tempest, and as the rain abated and the slowly lightening sky began to seep through the window, Marcus felt a little more of the tension seep out of his shoulders. He took a few deep breaths, fighting against the now-familiar weight in his chest, and got up for the day, before the sun.

Now, as he sat enjoying the warmth of the coffee against the rain-cooled morning air, he decided a few days of this idyllic view might not be so bad, after all. Mist rose off of the pond he had only assumed was there the night before, on account of the frogs he had heard. The still water, broken only by the occasional ripple of a bug on the surface, reflected the same pink hue of the sky. He tried (and failed) not to think of Theresa, of what he had lost. Had he ever even had it in the first place? He watched little spots of early sun dance between the trees and raised his coffee cup to his mouth again, finding it empty. How long had he been sitting here, lost in thought? It was as he was lowering the mug back to his knee that he heard a sudden scream cut through the quiet morning.

-

Tagging: @honestly-shite , it's me I'm the anon who said they were writing their first fic because I love Notes so much... You said I could tag you, and NO TAKIES-BACKSIES! (I'm kidding, let me know if you don't want to be tagged.) I have no idea who else to tag. I'm new to this game and I'm NERVOUS, jesus christ.

[cutiecorner]

Anything You Need

Fanfic • Agere • Multi-chapter • 1/? • setup, agere only mentioned • light warning - mental health struggle • Steven Universe Future • Regressing! Steven, Caregiver! Greg • AO3

《 finally putting pen to paper on the Steven Universe agere series I've been thinking up! Coincidentally, I got a request for a cg Greg fic, so thanks to that requestor for kicking off my series! I might still write a short cuter drabble since this one starts a little angsty and is also unfinished, but regardless, here we go! If you'd like to keep up to date on the fic as it's unfolding, check it out on AO3!》

Greg had been hovering for weeks.

It was an understandable response. His son had turned into a giant monster barely a month ago, what father wouldn’t be worried? At that crisis point, he said something to Steven, and he meant it with every bone in his body - “ Anything you need, I’m here for you”. He would cross the galaxy for his son, hell, he already had, but he had the itching feeling Steven just couldn’t be open about his needs. Greg knew he hadn’t been the best father, it was something he regretted every day. He tried his best - what parent doesn’t - but he was 20. He didn’t know anything about kids! He just knew he wanted one, he wanted a family, he’d work out the details later. Oh, and not to mention, the mother of his child was a literal alien. That threw a planet sized wrench into the mix. 

But he was older now, more mature. He had learned. Once Steven started showing signs of trauma he learned even more, he kicked into overdrive trying to help his son but by the time he got there it was too late. Regardless, all they had was the present. And now he did know better, he knew how to care for Steven and he wanted to desperately. Sure, he babied him a little now, but he couldn’t help it. He knew Steven was old enough to do things on his own, but all Greg wanted to do was make up for all the times Steven had to do them on his own when he wasn’t old enough. He just wanted a second chance.

Steven was… conflicted. He appreciated all his dad did for him then and now, but he had a hard time accepting it. That broody little teenage voice in his head kept going off - What does he know? You’re not a kid anymore. He should stop treating you like one. But then again, it felt … nice. To be cared for. Not that he’d ever admit it, but deep down something in him jumped at the opportunity to just leave stuff to other people. He spent so much time caring for others, including his dad, that it just felt foreign to be on the receiving end of it. It took some getting used to, and he wasn’t quite to the point that some ego inside him wouldn’t push back against any acts of kindness toward him. 

Either way, it was a touch annoying just how present his dad was. By the request of his therapist, someone had to be with Steven at all times, so Greg opted to move into the beach house. The house was incredibly open, so privacy was not a real option for Steven, especially when his dad popped in to check on him every five minutes. It was a constant parade of check ins, reminders, snacks, everything. Steven was grateful but really - he didn’t need his dad within sight every second.

…Until he did.

Steven knew relapse was a possibility. His myriad of mental illnesses was not something one just willed away once they got a big hug from everyone in their life. But when he fell back into it, he fell hard. And it hurt. This time was different, he didn’t have a … reason. He wasn’t going through a transition period anymore. He had a constant orbit of support systems. What was wrong now? Why was this still happening? Why did he still feel this shitty? Feeling defeated, he brought it up with his therapist.

“I just don’t get it. I thought I was fixed. I thought it was over. What did I do this time?” Steven pulled his knees to his chest in shame, and Dr. Endeara listened.

“After all the changes in the last year, it can be hard to readjust. But first of all, you’re not -”

“I’m not a problem to be fixed. I know,”

“I guess I have gotten through to you on some level,” Dr.Endeara chuckled.

“I know I sound like a broken record at this point, but it’s not something you did. It’s what you’ve been through. Even when things are good in your life, past traumas can creep up. It’s just a part of life, for everyone, and the best we can do is find a healthy ways to cope with and work through that trauma when it reappears,”

That wasn’t what Steven wanted to hear. It wasn’t great to lie to a patient, but he didn’t think ‘ that’s the breaks, kid’ was an especially therapeutic way of going about things. 

“What has been helping you get through these periods?”

Steven just shrugged. ‘Getting through’ was kind of an overstatement.

“Well, how about we brainstorm things together. Who is available to help you?”

He immediately thought of his dad. He was incredibly available.

“I don’t know… my dad, I guess?”

“That’s great. What do you want from your dad?”

That was a weird question. Unexpectedly loaded to say the least. There was a beat of silence between them as Steven tried to gather the many things that came to mind. 

“I don’t know I guess I just want him to… be a dad if that makes sense? I spent so much of my life being taken care of by the gems it kind of feels like he just left me in someone else’s hands. And because he did that I never really got a chance to just, be someone’s son you know? I wasn’t just some kid I was Steven Universe-”

He’d gotten more worked up than he realized. He had unfurled from his position and was on the edge of his seat. He tried to reel himself back.

“So I guess like… one childhood please?” He chuckled, strained. 

Dr. Endeara put a hand on her chin. She surveyed her notes, looking from them to Steven, and seemed to come to a conclusion.

“Well, if that’s something you struggle with I do have something that may help you work through that feeling.”

Steven watched as she fished through her many pamphlets. Dr.Endeara loved pamphlets, as if she were afraid her patients would forget if they didn’t have written list of what she wanted from them. It was kind of like homework. She passed him the pamphlet, and he was immediately drawn to (and confused by) the title.

“...Age regression? Like you want me to shapeshift?”

That made Dr. Endeara laugh. Steven liked it when she laughed, it was a moment of connection to remind him that they were truly close and she cared about him. Also it made him feel like he was doing a good job at therapy.

“No, Steven. It’s a coping mechanism some people use to heal what’s called your ‘inner child’.”

“Inner child?”

“Yeah, it’s like the little part of you that’s still a kid. They're still hurt by the things that hurt you back then, and they want the things you lacked in childhood. By attending to their needs, it helps you cope with those things and work through them.”

“So… what does that mean?”

“Well, you can heal the inner child in a lot of ways. But one way is through age regression - temporarily reverting to a younger state of mind.”

Revert to a younger state of mind? This whole thing was starting to… ring some bells.

“It can be something you do individually, but sometimes people have others they trust take care of them as a bonding experience. Maybe you could -”

“... have my dad take care of me.”

“If it’s not something you’d find helpful, that’s totally okay. I just thought I’d bring it up so you knew it was an option,” Dr. Endeara closed her notebook and set it aside - her little cue that it was the end of their time.

Steven looked at the pamphlet again before putting it in his pocket. 

“Thanks Doc, you’ve given me a lot to think about."

[mellowswriting]

Nightmare

pairing || Bucky Barnes x Reader

summary || Bucky struggles to calm down after a particularly rough nightmare - it’s a good thing you’re there to lend him a hand.

word count || 1,799

warnings || hurt and comfort, love confessions

a/n || So I started writing this before the first episode of The Falcon and The Winter Soldier even came out (because I’m incorrigible) so if it’s a little off, that’s why. As someone who’s gone through all that fun trauma-based therapy, seeing Bucky working on himself is validating as fuck. I tried to emphasize that while a good relationship can help after trauma, it doesn’t complete the healing process or suddenly make a person whole. Anyway, enjoy!

Main Masterlist  |  Join the taglist!

“Bucky?” Your voice cracked, still thick with sleep. “Why are you on the floor?”

“I…” Bucky started but his words failed him. He couldn’t find a way to tell you about it without feeling like he was gutting himself, without bringing the images right back up to torment him all over again. The vulnerability left him trembling, dog tags clinking quietly against his bare chest with every heaving breath.

But he didn’t need to say it. You just nodded and sat down next to him on the blanket he had spread out on the hard floor. Remnants still prickled at the back of his neck, images and echoes of gunfire and that wide open emptiness that cracked his chest on every mission, but he got some small peace from your presence. He felt just a bit safer at the feeling of your knee pressed to his lightly. You didn’t probe him about it, didn’t try to weasel out details, and he was thankful. Instead you offered him your hand and in turn, offered your quiet support, and he gratefully slid his fingers up your palm to curl with your own.

The pressure of your fingers holding him was grounding, kept him in the reality of what was actually happening around him. He wasn’t in that building. He didn’t have a gun in his hand. He wasn’t trapped behind a wall in his own mind. He was at home, sitting cross-legged on his living room floor. He held your hand in his, the softness of your skin against his a sharp contrast to the imagined bite of gunmetal.

He was right there. So were you.

Your thumb slid up and down over his as you tentatively started speaking. “I used to click my tongue to keep myself grounded after nightmares.”

Bucky glanced at you, eyebrows raised. “Really?”

“Yeah, I know it seems silly, but it worked for me more often than not.” You said with a small chuckle. “Sometimes I would have to tap if the clicking thing wasn’t working. It drove Tony crazy. He always said he could hear it all throughout the compound, but I think he was bullshitting. And if the tapping didn’t work, I would do sprints until my legs couldn’t hold me up anymore.”

Bucky took a long, deep breath the way his therapist taught him during their first session. Your voice was so calming. “Keep talking?”

“Of course.” You murmured. “It’s cheesy as hell, but they do get easier to deal with. The nightmares, I mean. The more you work at it, the less… vivid they are. I still get pretty bad ones every now and then, but even those are a little easier to come down from.”

“I hope you’re right.” He said.

“Well, you’re in therapy - even if it’s mandatory, you’re still showing up. Still putting in the effort. You’re sleeping semi-regularly, eating somewhat healthy. Trust me, you’re doing better than you realize. It takes a minute for you to ease out of survival mode, so it can be hard to tell how far you’ve already come.” You squeezed his hand lightly. “I’m proud of you, Bucky.”

A breath caught in his chest as he turned to look at you where you leaned your head back against the wall. “What did I do to deserve you?”

“Well, you did save me from getting shot that one time.” You teased and Bucky laughed quietly, a genuine one that seemed to surprise you. “But seriously. You’re a good person, that’s all you have to do.”

“No, I’m not.” The laugh turned self-deprecating. “I don’t have to tell you that, either. I know you’ve read the files.”

“That wasn’t you. That was Hydra.” Your free hand pressed against his bare chest, right over his heart. “This is you. You aren’t what they put in your head. You’re the person who went out and bought me a new coffeemaker in the middle of the night when mine broke so I wouldn’t have to go without caffeine the next morning. You’re the person who's mowed Mrs. Franklin’s yard twice a month since her husband passed. You’re the person who is working their ass off to get better.”

There weren’t words. He didn’t have them, the ones that could tell you how much he appreciated you, how much you meant to him. So he covered the hand you placed on his chest with his own, wishing he could actually feel you, but the prosthetic had its limitations with the enhancements given by the vibranium. You nodded at him, a quiet acknowledgement of his thanks.

Silence fell over you both. It was a comfortable one, not the heavy, oppressive silence that curled around him in the moments after waking. Your hand fell away from his chest, much to his disappointment. The skin against skin was comforting. A moment later you shifted onto your knees, ready to stand and seemingly leave him there, and Bucky tightened his grip on your hand instinctually.

“Please… don’t go.” His voice was small.

“I’m just going to get you some water. I’ll be right back, I promise.”

And you did. You returned less than a minute later and handed him a glass of cool water, watching him take a few sips until you were satisfied, and then stole a sip for yourself. Bucky couldn’t help the small smile that found him at the sight as you settled back in next to him and offered him your hand once more. He took it, but didn’t interlock your fingers like before. Instead he lifted your hand to his face and pressed your palm against his cheek, eyes falling closed at your cool skin against his warmth. Your thumb rubbed small circles along his cheekbone and when he opened his eyes again, you were looking at him almost thoughtfully. Impulsively, Bucky tilted his head slightly and kissed the delicate skin of your wrist and he could hear your breath stutter in your chest.

“Bucky…” You whispered, worry suddenly played across your features.

“I talk about you in therapy, you know.” He whispered, his heart jumping in his chest at the prospect of telling you about it, admitting his vulnerability. “I told her about how you make me feel… seen. And safe. I told her about how I always think about you. About… kissing you. And making you laugh.”

You swallowed, the sound louder in the resounding silence of three a.m confessions. “And what did she say?”

“That she could tell I was in love with you before I would even admit it to myself.” He whispered the words as if breathing them to life would make the very earth crumble at his feet.

“I couldn't live with myself if I got in the way of your healing.” You said and his heart soared in his chest. You weren't rejecting him, weren't pulling away in disgust or fear. No, you were putting his needs first - or rather, what you perceived his needs to be.

“Part of my healing is supposed to be building relationships, you know.” There was a small smile on his face at the very thought of it - of falling asleep and waking next to you each morning, of finally getting to kiss and touch you like he craved for so long.

“So… we take it slow?” You said and Bucky watched your eyes flick down to his lips before meeting his gaze again, your body leaning closer as if drawn in by the very gravity that held you to the earth.

“Yeah, we take…” Bucky leaned in, meeting you halfway, your lips a hairsbreadth apart. “...it…” You brushed your nose against his gently and he sighed contentedly, eyes finally falling closed. “...slow…”

The first press of your lips to his was soft. It was something he hadn’t felt in a long time, the simple pleasure of a kiss, and the fact that it was you only made it all the better. He relaxed against you, pulling you closer by a hand on your waist and angling himself to deepen the kiss. Your gasp against his lips was addictive, something he could happily spend the rest of his life seeking out.

A shudder ran down Bucky’s spine at the feeling of your hand sliding up from his cheek to tangle in his hair, the short cropped style barely enough for you to grab onto. Fuck, you felt so good, he could lose himself in you without regret, could drown in the bliss that washed over him and -

He pulled away gently, offering one last peck against your lips as a parting gift, and pressed his forehead to yours to catch his breath, to calm himself down. He had to go slow and going slow decidedly was not dragging you onto his living room floor and finally letting his hands roam underneath your soft pajamas. You chuckled quietly and that was what got him to lean back and look at you again, dumbstruck by the dazed, happy look on your face.

“You’re good at that,” You whispered, earning you a bashful laugh.

“So are you.” Bucky sighed, the heavy weight of sleepiness gathering at his shoulders. “I need to try to go back to sleep… join me?”

“I think this floor would kill my back, sweetheart.” You teased and holy shit, his heart soared in his chest.

Sweetheart. He was your sweetheart.

“I was thinking we could share my bed, but if you’re gonna tease me -”

“Don’t even finish that sentence, Barnes.” You surprised him with another kiss before climbing to your feet, your hand reaching out to pull him up with you.

He couldn’t help but feel amazed at the sight of you climbing into his bed, settling right into his rumpled sheets and looking up at him expectantly. He wasn’t going to leave you waiting, not when he finally got you right where he wanted you. You yawned as you brought him closer to lay his head against your chest and he melted right into you. Bucky curled his arm around your middle, effectively bringing your bodies completely flush against each other.

“You’re so warm, Buck.” You mumbled, sleepiness already warping your voice.

Bucky just hummed, his own exhaustion finally seeping back into his body now that the remnants of paranoid tension eased away at the steady sound of your heartbeat reverberating against his ear. Your hand rested against the top of his head to tease at his hair once more, and it was that gentle affection that had his eyes falling closed. At peace for the moment, his mind let him fall back into sleep, knowing that when the nightmares inevitably found him once more, he would have you there to help guide him back to where he belonged.

Right in your arms.

[plush-rabbit]

Intimacy and Vulnerability In A Different Form

Request: Can I please request for some angst with Shigaraki, Hawks and Dabi. Their S/O acts like she enjoy choking but she feels like it’s what she deserve (basically triggering some suicidal/depressive thoughts) so they’ve always thought she liked it until one particularly rough session she started breaking down and begging them to kill her and they found out about her depression. Sorry if this is against the rules, I’m not sure what you don’t write for. But kinda need this in my life rn. Angst+Fluff and aftercare please!!!

Warning: self-harm mentions, suicidal thoughts

A/N: I hope you like it!! Take care of yourself and remember to do the best that you can to take care of yourself and if you can, take your meds!!

-

Dabi:

His hands are heavy around your neck, a pressure that makes it harder to breathe and even harder to think anything coherent. His lips are bitter, the taste of alcohol lingering on his tongue and his smile presses itself against you in soft kisses. Dabi hovers above you, and as pleasurable as this all should be- the attention that he gives to you and the words that usually makes your body tremble- it’s only making you sick. The pressure tightens and all that can flash through your mind is the horrible mistakes of your past, every wound left open and salt poured on it as his words reach your ears. You aren’t sure what makes this night different compared to the others but your own hands are placed above his, your eyes squeezed tight as you press your hands down on his.

At first, he thinks nothing of it, believing it to just be you simply telling him that you want more pressure but as you continue, your face burns. Tears tracing down and marking you, your moans jumbled out and sounding so pitiful that he stops immediately. Your lips move, words slurred and are told out of order and he knows that something is wrong. You mumble something about wanting to die, and he pulls his hand away from your neck and your own hands that replace where his hand used to be. Your hands curl around your neck, scratching and pulling taut at your skin and you’re left sobbing as he stares down at you. His hands are soft, curving around your wrist and holding them together, watching as you rest against his bare chest, your tears slipping down his skin and burning against his scars.

He isn’t sure what to do. He’s unable to figure out if he should outright ask you what’s wrong but between your sobs and mess of words, he figures that that isn’t wise. The only thing that he can do is hold you close, let his hands rise in heat and rub them against your back, hoping that the motion will soothe you. He has you against him, crying and he knows- or at least has gathered enough information- to decide that you do indeed want to die. You lay against him, crying and letting your emotions get the best of you and he is unable to do what he should do, but yet, he stares at you, looking around the room hoping that the answer will be written on the walls. But, it's just him and you and a wall with chipping paint. There’s no answer to this and he isn’t good at playing therapist, and the most he can offer is a simple question of “are you okay?” even if it’s obvious that you aren’t.

While he isn’t good at sorting things out and giving advice, he is good at listening, taking things to heart and paying attention to the small details. He listens to you talk about how you have your own bad habits- you hand threads with his when you say that- and that sometimes you wish that something or someone would end your life so you didn’t have to do the dirty work. He knows enough about that to nod his head and hold your hand tighter. Your lips brush over the swell in his chest and you rest on his lap, your body shaking with the aftershocks of your sobbing, and your face still wet with tears. He listens well when you talk, nodding his head and squeezing your hand to show that he is still listening to you and his lips press against your head.

The last thing that Dabi wants is to hurt you. He doesn’t want you to see him as something that can only bring pain and destruction; he wants you to view him as a person. He tells you in a whisper that anything rough is out of the question, he doesn't want this to happen again. He tells you that he’ll be with you because he wants to be and that you two can still remain intimate but he won’t hurt you, he doesn’t want to be the reason that you cry. His hands are gentle as they move you away from him, his hand holding your jaw and his eyes linger to when a tear touches his thumb. He kisses the tip of your nose, his smile lazy and he offers a shower- just something to get rid of all the tears and sweat. It isn’t a permanent solution, but it’s the best that he can offer and he’ll stay true to his word, not wanting to go against our trust and safety. There’ll be another conversation about your mental health, but only when you’re more coherent and less in a negative state.

Shigaraki Tomura:

It’s already a dangerous situation to place yourself in with Tomura- his hands around your neck, his focus already diverting to pleasure rather than focusing on you. It’s times like these that he regrets not remembering where he placed the half gloves. His entire being is centered around death, his hands clawed and already so close to closing, the air becoming thin and harder to catch and you’re left with burning tears in your eyes. Your lips meet his in a desperate kiss, straining your neck and making his hands close tighter around your neck. A part of you wants for it to hurt more, for his hands to close around your neck and squeeze until your lips are cold and he’s over your body. You call out in a croaky voice for him to tighten his grip, placing your hands over his and begging for his to close his fist. It’s getting harder to breathe and your vision is dotted in black, tears fall and catch on his hands and your moans have turned to cries. His hand loosens around your neck, his movements stopped and he carefully removes his hand away from you.

The air is tense in the room. Your cries echoing around and he stares down at your body as it closes around itself, your arms hugging your crying form. He carefully crawls beside you, clenching his teeth when the bed creaks under him, his body careful to not touch yours. Beside you, he sits, his back propped by pillows and his lips bitten as he calls your name. He isn’t sure what he’s hoping for in a response- he knows that the answer he wants is unrealistic given your state and he isn’t sure whether he can touch you or if that would lead you to spiral down. His hands catch at a piece of your hair, rubbing the ends between his thumb and index finger. He calls you once more, nudging his leg against your body, hoping that you’ll at least give him a sort of reply.

You give an odd sort of sound- something stuck between a cry and a hiccup- but he takes it. He leans over you, brushing away the stray hair and tears, grabbing at a shirt and cleaning your face with it. You hold his hands with yours, your palm over the back of his hand, the cloth pressed against your face, the warmth of his palms warming at your cheeks. He turns over to lie beside you, his chest against your back and his lips pressed over a bruising spot on your neck. You both lay in silence for a long moment, his hands sliding down until they curve around your stomach, his nose pressed against the back of your head as your cries turn into whimpers. He whispers words of comfort- telling you that it’s okay, that he’s stopped, and letting you just cry as his hands circle around your abdomen.

He asks you what happened, his lips pressed against your neck, his hands still and his words are solemn. He doesn’t know what set it off and he isn’t aware of what he should say and a part of him thinks that it’s his fault. He asks if it was his fault- that maybe he triggered something or something else that he doesn’t know what happened. Your confession about your state of mind makes his body go pale, a shiver running down his spine and his hands curl around your stomach. You make it a point of telling him it wasn't his fault- he hadn’t known, it was something that you kept as a secret. Your hands hold his, your face dry with tear stains still lingering against your face. After the sudden outburst, your tone grows drowsy, eyelids heavy and breaths deeper. He can sense that you’re growing tired, that the outburst took a lot of energy and he moves to grab at a blanket, letting it rest against your waist until you’re ready to move it closer to your body.

During the entirety of your relationship, Tomura has always put your wellbeing as a priority; he wants to know that you’re safe and healthy and when you confess about your issues, about how your mind works against you, he asks you to turn around. He holds you close, allowing you the option to look at him or hide your face, and he speaks slowly. He isn’t going to be the one that brings out painful memories, he’s going to be here for you. Perhaps, he won’t be the best at it, but he’ll do what he can, he’ll offer to listen and to talk, he’ll offer you snacks and hold you when you need to be held. He’ll try and that’s the best he can offer. For now, you’ll rest against him, your body covered by a blanket as he keeps you close, letting his arms wrap tight around you.

Takami Keigo:

A caring lover, Keigo takes great pride in giving in to your needs, wanting you to feel heard and seen during acts of intimacy. If you want his hands around your neck, then he’s willing to do it for you. His face will be pinched, a string of curses hissed under his breath as his hand tightens around your neck. You’re under him, a cloud of negative thoughts forming into a storm, your stomach twisting and churning with every move, your eyes closed tightly and yet, the pressure against your chest isn’t enough, the way that he has his hand wrapped around your throat simply isn’t enough.

It’s a simple bad day turned worse with sex. Despite the act of intimacy and the enjoyment that you derive from it, your thoughts scream loud, drowning out anything and you’re simply just tired. You beg him with a choking voice to tighten his grasp and he does, pressing his forehead against yours for a moment, pulling away with a crooked grin. He doesn't realize what you want- that it isn’t tight enough for you, that you’re pleading for more and that you want him to close the gap until you’re heaving and gasping for air. You beg for it to be tighter and the most that he offers is a squeeze around your throat before he loosens. His hand pulls away as you start to cry, his face falling into a frown as your words are slurred between each cry, your hands covering your face, taking deep breaths with a bitterness that lingers on your tongue.

He ground you, grabbing your hands and lifting you up, his wings pushed back in an attempt to make you feel less crowded. You’re crying, your body trembling and chest shaking with every breath, as he tries to calm you down, asking you to mimic his breaths and tell him the colors on the bed sheet. He’s desperate, fear thick on his words and his hands wanting to hold you but he refrains. His voice is steady as can be, hesitation on the end of his words but nothing like yours that trembles and breaks with every sentence. He’s a hero, he knows what to do, how to calm those who are almost seen as being uncontrollable. He gets your breathing back to normal, holds your knees and has you play with his hand, the lines and calluses traced and touched under your jittery hand.. He lets you catch your breath, your body shaking and tears slowing down into heavy drops.

You open your arms, hands curling close in an attempt to ask him to come closer. He follows, wrapping his arms around you, and bringing you close to him. Careful as ever, he makes sure his wings are extended, careful to not wrap them around you nor him, wanting you to have as much space to breathe. Your hands roam around back, clinging to his shoulder blades, the tips of his feathers teased with your fingertips. His voice is calm, letting you start the conversation or choosing to save it for later and focusing on you right now. You move him and he is putty in your hands, molding into whatever you need him to be, leaning against the headboard and holding you close, feathers twitching restlessly as you lean on his chest. His hands circle back around you, his chin on the top of your head as you start to speak. He lets you take your time when your voice starts to crack, his presence nothing but soothing.

It’s difficult to listen to you talk so negatively about yourself and to know that the rougher stuff introduced during acts of intimacy were more of a punishment rather than something for pleasure. Keigo is patient in listening to you, holding you close to him and kissing your knuckles as you talk and go further in detail. He won’t push you to do things that are outside of your comfort zone and would prefer for you to take your own pace and come into realizations for yourself. He’s your partner and he’ll help you as much as he can, but he isn’t good at taking care of himself and can often find him going further than what’s good for you. He talks to you and runs his hand down your spine, moving around until you’re side by side, his smile almost pained. It’s a minute before he rises, holding you close to him and leading you to the bathroom, turning the water on and letting you stand under it, his hands covered in white fluff as suds cover your body, his body close to yours.

[phoenixyfriend]

Thoughts on “Auntie Soka and Little Leia” now that I’ve actually got it posted:

Call it a director’s cut! The process of actually writing the thing, and also jokes made along the way. Link to the actual fic.

Unfortunately, I don’t have the energy for image descriptions, even the text screenshots. Might come back that later. Most of this was DMs with @atagotiak​.

This was an entire thing before I even started writing:

Before I decided on ages and stuff Ahsoka, to Jango, who has had zero contact with Kaminoans: Okay I know I'm a Jedi kid so you hate me but this toddler is your clone from the future. Jango, tired: What the FUCK are you talking about. Rex, barely able to talk: Don't you dare leave me with him, Commander! Ahsoka: I'm not going to leave you I just--I'm so tired I'm so fucking tired I haven't slept in five days and someone tried to kidnap Leia two days ago I am so fucking tired I need help

Ben: [twenty years of depression followed by a 'now I'm safe' breakdown over the course of weeks] Sokari: [whatever the FUCK this mess is]

When Ahsoka mentions there only being three other Jedi at the time of her death,  I was thinking Kanan, Yoda, and Obi-Wan (Leia told her about the latter two living past her). She's not counting anyone that received training after the Temple fell, and she didn’t know about Cal.

When Leia says  “I was adopted and raised by one of the founders of the rebellion, a movement built on the desire to instate freedom and democracy in a galaxy that had lost even the pretense.”

Depa: I'm no therapist but I diagnose you with "incredibly fucked up." Ahsoka: yeah, that’s fair

"Why did you pick Depa for--" She's pretty and I'm gay. Also because of the Kanan thing But mostly I'm gay "It's not a visual medi--" GAY

Empty of context beyond general post-fic AU: "Hey Sokari, we need to engage in psychological warfare against this individual and--" "I'm going to break into his office and leave a threatening note on his desk and leave no other sign that I was there. He'll see that his security is nothing and the only reason he isn't dead is because I'm too nice to kill him." "...okay, not what we were planning, but that works. Why is that your first choice?" "I really like breaking and entering, it's soothing." Ben just standing there with a bland smile like This Is Normal.

"We need someone to infiltrate a highly guarded facility in hostile territory." "So we're sending the Torrent kids?" [sigh] "We're sending the Torrent kids."

Rex and Sokari insist on both going by "Torrent" even though Rex could be a Fett. Jango really wants him to be a Fett. Rex has too many grudges to agree to being a Fett for... a while.

I really hope it's blatantly obvious that Ahsoka's not a reliable narrator for some things Ahsoka: Fett could care less if I died Jango: jfc even if you are older than me I can see you're fucked up. Drink your hot chocolate. Hells. She's got good reason to expect him to hate her as a Jedi! BUT. THAT IS NOT REFLECTIVE OF REALITY

We don’t get a lot of actual characterization for Jango, but the way I played him out here is he has never really parsed that Jedi are people before all this. It's a lot harder to treat them as a monolith when the traumatized former child soldier is having regular breakdowns in your shitty little kitchen

Fett: I respect you Ahsoka: No, don't do that

Ahsoka’s vigilantism is something that, in my mind, she's associating heavily with Zygerria and then the clones.

I figured that she never bothered to learn Quinlan’s teacher’s name but in the process of looking up some basic facts (whether he had a surname), I found that Wookiepedia was forced to give us a VERY wide range of possible death in Legends.

Please take a moment to imagine Quinlan's FACE when Ahsoka initially dismisses him. Quinlan has put a lot of effort into being rogueishly charming! It's very useful for his line of work! He knows to expect either irritation or a return flirtation when he acts like this with people his own age! Ahsoka is not flustered OR rolling her eyes and insulting him, she's just ignoring him and it's a bit of a blow to the ego

This just makes me really happy:

This was the initial comment I made, as a joke What if Maul is just. There. On one of the planets they make a pitstop at. What if Maul exists as the walking problem he is, but fifteen, and Ahsoka immediately tries to kick his ass and drag him back to Coruscant. I do not have room for this plot but What If

Despite not having room for this plot, I proceeded to write this plot.

Maul is kidnapped and it’s the best thing that ever happened to him HE'S FIFTEEN HE'S DUMB AS SHIT AND HAS A BAD ATTITUDE AND YEAH HE'S A DARKSIDER BUT HE'S FIFTEEN

Ahsoka: I sense... Maul [takes off sprinting] Rex: [immediately takes Jango's blaster and runs after her] Jango: Wait who Tholme: Who Quinlan: Who Jango: [looks at Leia] Leia: I don't know who that is either! Ahsoka, already wrestling a teenager to the ground: Oh no, you're a child, REX STUN HIM AND GRAB THE CUFFS, I'M SURE FETT OR THOLME HAS SOME

Fighting him isn't even legal, they have NO evidence of criminal wrongdoing, so first she needs to yell until he admits to something she can fight him about

Ahsoka: When I see Maul, it's on SIGHT Maul: WHO ARE YOU

Ahsoka: The Force didn't give me hands just to NOT throw them when I run into That Crafty Son Of A Bitch

Ben, when they arrive, after the tearful reunion: You... you brought Maul. Ahsoka: Well, yeah, he's fifteen and kinda dumb. I figured we could drag him here and force him into therapy, see what happens. Ben: I can't quite tell through the gag, but I think he's threatening to feed you your own spleen. Ahsoka: Lol, yeah.

Ben is absolutely on team "get Maul therapy" and will fight the Council on rehabilitating the baby Sith But also it's like. Here's your daughter! And your niece! And your daughter's QPP! Also your best friend, but baby, and his teacher, and the biological origin of a number of people you cared for deeply! AND ALSO THE GUY WHO SPENT LITERAL DECADES CRAVING YOUR DEATH, FOR SOME REASON

I just really want Ahsoka lovingly bullying Maul She gives him noogies and the horns don't protect him because girl has reinforced gloves

Maul's only allowed a low-power training saber and his fights with Sokari involve Much Taunting by her and Eventual Screaming by him, and everyone pops by to see: 1. Sokari doing the most absurd flips, for fun. 2. The bullshit that is ataru-shien reverse-grip jar'kai in the hands of someone who makes it work 3. What a Sith lightsaber form looks like 4. Just the general nonsense that is the way these two fight

Tia said “Wrt ridiculous flips. I'm remembering that time she beheaded four Kryst'ad at once.” and I just Rex brings up the quadruple beheading at one point to get someone to stop asking questions and the awkward, horrified silence almost makes him regret it. And then Sokari just snorts and makes a joke about how Rex once speared a slaver point-blank and everyone's just like hello??? "are you two okay" "no"

Maul absolutely starts crushing on Sokari after a 'sword under chin' moment and she's just very "Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh you're fifteen, bye" GO MAKE PUPPY EYES AT OBI-WAN OR SOMETHING

The crushes are the worst part of everything, really, she's an attractive young woman that can kick a lot of ass, and a lot of people are into that! Unfortunately, most of those people are a decade younger than she is, mentally, because all the people her actual age look at her and see a child on account of the 17yo body.

It’s almost a good thing she’s in no place mentally for a relationship.

I just want Ahsoka to wear beskar.... I think that would be Nice........

This AU is also what caused this post.

I'm deeply enamored by the idea that Ahsoka can win fights against "older" padawans pretty much unilaterally, even when they team up 2v1 And then she offers to fight 5v1 "But only if I have permission to fight dirty." Ben approves it, a horror show full of "I fought many wars and will scream in your face or kick you in the balls if that's what it takes" follows She wins. There are no permanent injuries, but her reputation certainly gets weirder. Nobody under the rank of Knight agrees to let her fight dirty again. She just lets that stand because, well, she's not actually a padawan, she's thirty-three.

I’m not going to write this but my brain was EVIL and suggested it:

IT WOULD BE REALLY SAD IDK maybe 9yo Anakin has nightmares about what's happening to baby Ahsoka because bullshit about time-traveling force bonds IDK ANYWAY he cries to Sokari about the nightmares and she's like "oh shit" and it's time to go rescue herself from motherfucker unlimited

It's either that or she's like, expecting to welcome mini-me aaaany day now, for like, several months, before she realizes Something Went Wrong. Anakin’s dreams could even start right as she’s starting to realize something’s off.

Obi-Wan has never had a padawan that doesn't at some point bite Even Luke will, when pushed

OH also once the twins get Baby's First Lightsaber (training sabers, not real kyber), Sokari begs to borrow them for a dumb joke and tells Rex to get on her shoulders for a "Grievous Greeting" and they do The Thing

Jango and Ahsoka wrt Quinlan is just “Do I need to beat him up for you” “You realize I’ve beaten up sith lords before?”

JANGO'S TRYING He's just. "Can we be friends? Can I--can I be the guy that just noticeably gets in the way of a creep on the subway so you can be more comfortable without someone making a scene? I'm fucking trying here, give me a hint."

We didn’t actually figure out Jango’s age until this point. The only reason Fett's age matters is for Quinlan making a Wild Oats quip after Jango says he didn't know about Rex until a few weeks ago, and Fett going "How old do you think I am? And how old do you think the kid is?" and Quinlan getting Very Awkward as he does the math. Rex overhears and lets Quinlan sweat for a bit before saying "I'm a genetically-modified clone someone grew in a tube, he didn't know or have reason to know until he saw me with Sokari." Which is like. Eight additional layers of WTF, obviously, but at least Jango gets to avoid awkward wild oats jokes

Like, you’d expect the rebuttal to be ‘he’s my brother just with a biiig age gap’ or ‘he’s my nephew’

I find it very unfortunate for Quinlan that I've decided his defining characteristic in this context is going to be repeatedly putting his foot in his mouth

He’s trying so hard but "That sounds like a cool thing, maybe I'll ask ab--and it's another fucking trauma."

I'm doing Ahsoka&Jango t w i c e (there’s another fic where I’m doing it)

It’s just a fun dynamic! So much resentful respect.

Like she's twenty seconds away from calling him a bitch at any given time and he's just there like "I don't like you but I do see you move like you're about to tell an entire building to get on their knees with their hands in the air and I can respect that" Also she's probably much less judgmental about using blasters than Obi-Wan is The Maul subplot actually started with me daydreaming about Ahsoka grabbing a blaster for Reasons

I like the idea of Jango just deciding the most Useful thing he can do is help teach the Smol how to fight. He's AWKWARD around Rex and Soka because he doesn't know if there's anything he CAN teach them.

I didn’t actually plan for Tholme to figure out the age thing, he just SAID it and I had to sit there like Wait.

Ahsoka, Rex & Leia: ahhh, children Tholme: you say that like you aren’t children

I liked getting to write Rex's little "I have worked with all of them, and they're all Terrible" He loves them But They once got stranded on a planet that didn’t exist and Ahsoka died and Anakin killed a god.

There was research and discussion as to whether Ahsoka could win against Tholme but seeing as she held her own against Vader, and fought Grievous at that physical age without dying, etc.... yeah, the only thing holding her back was her body not being what she was used to, and she’s had a few weeks go adjust.

“I miss being able to just jump off skyscrapers” is such a jedi thing

Jango: I'll take the gun back if he tries to leave, they can't get far before--WHAT THE FUCK He knows Jedi are scary but he’s still not really used to just how over the top ridiculous they are He knows how to deal with Jedi in battle, not Whatever The Fuck These People Are Doing

Rex isn't even a Jedi, he's just so used to working with them. “Oh yes time for free-falling without a parachute again, same shit as always.”

Tia: I’m imagining Jango freaking out and Quinlan and Tholme being like. Concerned but mostly exasperated Clearly if they’re jumping off buildings it must be serious? But jfc they could’ve maybe communicated a bit more?

Leia: I want to finish my juice Tholme: Quin, stay with her while we go figure out what those two are doing. Quinlan: Wait what

Jango: Oh now he’s jumping off a building too??? Tholme: Sokari, you are not registered! You can't legally jump out windows yet! Jango: What the hell is going on? Is this normal?

We don’t necessarily know how often Ahsoka and Maul ran into each other after Mandalore. There was the later thing on Malachor, but other than that I'm just going with the idea that they ran into each other every year or two and just went for the eyes like feral cats

Ahsoka: I need to kick ass and you're coming with me. Rex: Yeah, okay. [several minutes later] Rex: Whose ass are we kicking?

Ahsoka and Rex

Neloms aren’t a SW fruit to the best of my knowledge, I just wanted to mess around with lemons/melons

Jango: you didn’t think any of this through, did you? Rex: you were there, you know we didn’t "When the Jedi says to jump out a window, I jump out a window."

Tholme’s real composed about stalking the ancient nigh-mythical enemy of his people, very “Life is already so goddamn weird”

This fic has been so heavy on the trauma but then I introduce Maul and suddenly it's the worst kind of comedy Nobody is competent, everyone's a little dumb, the bad guy is just grocery shopping

My propensity for banter has turned this into a six-person buddy cop comedy about Maul buying grapes They spend a significant amount to time ineffectually stalking Maul before Quin suggests the sensible option Quinlan just "You remember this is my literal job and specialty right"

Ahsoka sees Maul and all her brain cells go out the window except "Fight good" Usually she doesn’t need to worry about doing things legally. Maybe she needs to worry about someone seeing her do illegal things but she spent the past 15 yrs in a place where her existing was illegal

I feel like he’s also maybe kinda wanting to reassert that yes he is competent. Bc like. Ahsoka’s been kinda condescending this whole time and also can beat everyone up so. It's not his fault that he's actually the youngest person there, but.

Jango is finding this whole being friendly to Jedi thing a lot more overwhelming than he thought it would be. And overwhelming in different ways.

Maul usually signifies things getting worse and more horrifyingly tragic but he's just a dumb teen that they needed to arrest for his own good.

Quinlan: Look, I'm useful! Ahsoka: I've been through hell, wanna hear? Quinlan: NO. I DON'T. WHY.

Quinlan: I understand the concept of joking about your traumas, I do it sometimes myself! But sith hells that’s a lot of trauma.

Quinlan just wanted her to treat him as a Competent Individual, and here she is whipping out stories about Dying and Gods and the Force insists it's the truth and he just???? And apparently emo darksider over there is a Sith. And just, sure. Why not

A lot of people’s interactions with the time travelling disaster lineage is just

Tholme and Fett arguing and  Ahsoka's just waiting for a moment to pop in with "Hey, when's the last time either of you worked with the other's culture before this mess? Yeah, that's what I thought."

Much like Leia and Ahsoka hurting each other earlier, and Tholme figuring out the de-aging, we ALSO have Fett’s confrontation with Ahsoka being something the characters just did, rather than something I planned.

FTR the only time I managed to trigger myself while writing this fic was the “your behavior isn’t actually acceptable and we’ve all been trying really hard to give you room to recover but you have to at least make an effort to not be a bitch”

Writing about people having PTSD and symptoms of such: Yay! Writing about people having PTSD and engaging in toxic behavior to cope: Shit Ahsoka had... basically my exact reaction. It's "remind yourself that you're in the wrong, that they have a point, and then be overly formal in the apology because fuck if you accidentally make them feel sorry for you when they're the injured party"

Quinlan: Can we be friends? I mean, you're an asshole, but you're really cool. Let's be friends. (He MIGHT be nursing a crush) (Neat mysterious girl who can beat him up.)

Also he realises she's probably nicer when not having a slow-motion breakdown He's like "Huh, you'll probably be less of an asshole once you've gotten therapy."

...also, she pretty and got Nice Biceps

I love writing a good mental breakdown

I was so close to including a "he tried to kill me" just early enough for Jango to wildly misinterpret as her thinking Quinlan tried to kill her. He'd have been very confused, considering Quinlan's the one that called them down in a panic and currently has Ahsoka having her massive breakdown in his lap But

Tia:  I could see Jango interpreting it as idk, Quin resembling someone or for a moment acting like someone who tried to kill her and she had a flashback or something like that

There's absolutely room for a couple reasonable interpretations there And "trapped in a flashback about someone who tried to kill her" is absolutely what's happening! Just. You know. For a different reason. Jango probably wouldn’t assume Quin would hurt her, for one thing he seems to like her, for another even if he did he’s smart enough to pick a way that wouldn’t be so likely to get him caught

I had to step back and actually say “Also I'm just. Wow. I'm really just shoveling QPP Rex&Ahsoka at full speed”

Me, a few weeks ago, joking: Two halves of the same idiot black ops specialist Me, now, entirely seriously: Two halves of the same idiot black ops specialist

Me, belatedly: Oh, Ahsoka being joyfully mean to people was a form of mania she was unconsciously using to build a barrier between herself and her impending meltdown

She went from "just died" to "in charge of Rex and Leia" in like. Two minutes.

Confession: I've been delighting in the mental image of this whole Mess leading Jango to try to retake Mandalore, and Ahsoka loans him a saber for a 1v1 to get the darksaber.

“Can’t I just fight him barehanded? That’s how I did it on Galidraan.” "But the drama, Fett!"

Probably Rex has learned how to use a saber as well, because you never know when you have to borrow a weapon

I later changed my mind to Jango asking her to help, rather than her just sneak-teaching him, but it was funny.

Background nonsense to all this is Ahsoka and Rex, despite Rex being as force-sensitive as a lump of coal, having developed a process where she can extend her sensitivity to him mind-to-mind for weird symbiotic battle trance that scares everyone around them. It’s very similar to Battle meditation.

CONTEXT FOR LEIA BEING WORRIED ABOUT THOLME HIDING THINGS: Tholme is hiding the fact that the Council reached out and told him that the people he picked up might be connected to Ben and Luke, who showed up after the Depa thing but a solid week and change before Jango's ship makes it to the Temple. They asked that he not share that information to avoid getting anyone's hopes up in case the two situations aren't related. Ben and Luke haven't shared enough information for anyone to really be sure if the other three are connected Because the info Tholme has isn't quite the info Jango has, etc. And they can't just say Ben is a future Obi-Wan over comms

I just have a lot of feelings about people trying to do something right and just. Nobody's at fault! Not really! It's just complicated!

Tia: I like how when Ahsoka isn’t doing maladaptive trauma response stuff she’s very mature. And of course she’s had to be but it’s a good like, contrast. Where when she slows down to think about things she’s very sensible

Jango just spends most of this story lowkey wanting Ahsoka to Be His Friend but there's too much baggage that he's only metaphysically responsible for

Local aroace(?) has a squish

Ahsoka: He just wants to get on my good side because of Rex. Jango: I'm pretty sure you could kill an entire army without trying but you wouldn't because you have actual morals and stuff... and when I met you it was because you were killing yourself trying to keep (what appeared to be) children safe... you seem cool please be my friend.......

Ahsoka’s #1 weakness: mountains of trauma Ahsoka’s #2 weakness: she just doesn’t get why so many people think she’s cool and want her to be their (girl)friend

Jango, a 27yo massacre survivor who's killed Jedi masters with his bare hands: [gets lectured on various government structures by a tiny girl that's missing several teeth and needs to sit on books to see the table properly]

Ahsoka was raised in a religious meritocracy but developed all her opinions during a galactic war and then became a vigilante spy, Rex comes from a military cult, Leia is from an inherited monarchy that participates in democracy, Quinlan was originally from what appears to be a dynastic dictatorship, and IDK about Tholme other than that he is also from the religious meritocracy. And in legends Quinlan came to the religious meritocracy after his aunt sacrificed his parents to a vampire cult and then forced him to experience the psychometric echoes of that. There's just. A lot going on.

Leia at least has knowledge about structure and admin in theory that isn't based in either the military or populations under 10k

Jango: I want to be your friend. Ahsoka: Sounds fake.

I am unfairly fond of "Rex destroys a conversation by bringing up his own horrifying childhood and calling it a cult"

"Why does Sokari call you 'Rex'ika'?" "Because she's older than me." "...can I--?" "No."

Nickname privileges are extended ONLY to Ahsoka and older clones. There are no more older clones, so it's just Ahsoka.

Me joking about Star Wars AUs: Would you like a crackship? Me writing actual Star Wars fic: My favorite character type is apparently “too traumatized to have a relationship” so this is at least 90% gen.

I had to pull a scene opening at one point because Ahsoka's skill with not getting shot is actually much less useful than Tholme's clearance levels.

Now I really want a team-up of Ahsoka, Rex, and Jango where they do have to get in a dogfight of the "she flies, we shoot" variety and Fett just has to scream because the speeder thing to catch Maul was one thing, but this....

Ahsoka, before TCW: I know all the traffic rules but I'm not that great at flying! Ahsoka, after TCW: I'm great at flying but if you let me behind the wheel we are absolutely getting arrested.

She went from "knows the rules but doesn't have the skills" to "has the skills but primarily in the form of not getting shot" which! Is delightful! "Bet I can get us through that alley--" "DO NOT"

Jango and Ahsoka are both just very "Is this friendship? Is this camaraderie? My heart's been fried on platonic love by so many murders that I'm not sure anymore." "I've lost a lot of friends. I kind of forgot how to make those."

I have no idea if "hasn't been closer than Alderaan except that one trip to Chandrila" is canon-compliant but ehhhhhhhh It feels plausible enough?

Belatedly realized that I could just explain my optimal Rex&Ahsoka dynamic as just... drift compatible. It's vague enough on the specifics while still digging into the meat of what they mean to each other and how they work together. The terminology is already in existence. I can just use it.

Romantic? Platonic? Familial? Doesn't matter! They're drift compatible.

They are important to each other and that is what matters

I really like the Leia&Quinlan thing. He's just like "This small child needs a friend that isn't super depressed," and decided he's going to be her friend. I keep trying to toss in "Quinlan volunteers to 'baby'sit." She's not much older and she has a Baby Brain, it works out

There's a running bet as to whether Leia will leave the Order the second she turns thirteen, or if she'll let Sokari "train" her for a few years first. And... that’s how I came up with Leia Antilles, Senator of Serenno.

They'll be bullshitting Ben as her new master to "finish out the padawanship" since they can't tell everyone she's really in her thirties and he's conveniently there and already knows everything and was half her master anyway. Like Ben was planning on taking on Luke, but Luke is "six" and even he can't swing that as old enough to be a Padawan, and it's not like Sokari will take more than a handful of years to justify knighthood, sooooooooo

[queen-haq]

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 5

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 5

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language and light smut.

Words: ~2000 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost...

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

******

You didn’t grow up with hugs, so you never really understood the big deal about them. Nothing irritated you more than when acquaintances wanted to hug you. Over the years you’d learned to accept it and go with the flow but intimate gestures from people you barely knew made you uncomfortable. The only time you didn’t mind being hugged was by Davina and even then she was careful not to overdo it. But right now, with Billy’s arms locked around you, you pressed up against him, he felt so good, so solid, you never wanted to leave his embrace. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so cherished, and the fact that it was Billy – you didn’t want to think about what that meant.

You wrapped your hands around the back of his shoulders, simply breathing him in.

At first the comfort Billy provided was enough to distract you from what happened today, but then you were suddenly struck by the memory of Adam pointing his gun at you. Thanks to your father’s outbursts you learned a long time ago to stay calm in hostile situations, and that skill came in handy this morning. While Adam spewed hatred at you and accused you of destroying his life, you kept him preoccupied and talking until the cops came up and managed to haul him away. But once the danger subsided, all of that unleashed fear came back with a vengeance and you hadn’t been able to shake it off since then. Shopping, and then Billy’s unexpected arrival, had provided a temporary distraction but it was still lingering in you, threatening to engulf you at any moment.

Your fingers trailed up Billy’s back. One hand cradled the nape of his neck while the other reached up to play with his hair. He was so tall you had to stand on your tip-toes to run your fingers through his silky strands. You dropped a soft kiss on his chest, over his sweater, then on his skin as your lips dragged up to the base of his throat. His hands caressed languidly down your back, and you groaned when he squeezed your ass. Your hips ground into his, needing more from him than he was giving.

Adam’s face flashed through your mind, his sheer hatred of you stamped across his angry features. Your chest felt constricted, like you couldn’t breathe.

Before you could change your mind, you reached up to kiss Billy.

Every thought in your head instantly dissipated.

You’d forgotten what it felt like to have his mouth devour yours, hot and wild and reckless, tongue on tongue, tongue against teeth, nothing about it soft or tender but simple, pure assault on your senses. He didn’t just kiss with his mouth, he kissed with his whole being, every movement of his reverberating throughout your body. Even something innocuous like his fingers fisting your hair heightened your desires, making you more frantic.

Usually he was very much in sync with what you wanted, he could read when you were in the mood for slow and sensuous, or when you wanted to be fucked hard and rough, and he always delivered. But today he seemed to want to take his time even though you kept pushing for more. Charging forward, you trapped him against the wall behind, kissing him ferociously while your hands rushed to the buttons on his jeans. As you tried to undo them your fingers shook violently, frustrating you so badly that you tore your mouth away from his just so you could focus on ripping them off.

“Y/N,” he groaned, panting.

You didn’t look at him, too busy unzipping his jeans.

“Y/N, slow down…”

Your fingers delved beneath his boxers to palm his cock. You missed the feel of him, the touch of him, how slick he felt in your hands when he was hard. Before Billy you never thought cocks were beautiful but his was thick, long and divine, made to give you the most incredible of pleasures. Your mouth and pussy thirsted for him-  

Abruptly, Billy grabbed your shoulders and forced you to back off.

Caught up in passion, your brain scrambled to figure out why he was no longer touching you. Breaths labored, you stared up at him, confused, as he pulled up his jeans. Before you could catch your breath he was whirling you around, forcing you against the wall, gripping your wrists tightly over your head. His penetrating eyes bore into you, like he could see right through you or something, and the thought scared you. Leaning forward you tried to kiss him but he angled back, rejecting your attempts.

“Hey,” he murmured. “Just stop. Okay?”

“I thought you wanted this.”

“I do but-”

“Isn’t this why you showed up here?”

“Look, you’re messed up right now.”

“I’m fine!” you snapped, struggling to release your arms from his grip. “I want this, ok? I want you. Let me show you. Let me fuck you.”

He focused on you closely, his eyes dark and stormy, before he finally loosened his grasp. When you moved to cradle his face, he retreated back. Forget kissing you, he didn’t even touch you. Instead, he knelt down to pick up your robe from the ground and cover you with it. That’s when you noticed you were naked. You hadn’t even realized your robe had slipped off.

You were naked and desperately throwing yourself at him and he was purposely rejecting you. It felt like a slap in the face. You were mortified.

Pushing him away you tightened the robe around you and tried to sidestep past him. Except he blocked your path.

You tried again, he did the same.

“What?” You snarled, swallowing the lump in your throat. You were embarrassed as hell but you’d die before telling him that.  

He tilted your chin, forcing you meet his stare. In turn, you glared at him.

“Sex isn’t going to make you forget what happened this morning,” he said softly.

“Maybe I just wanted to feel something good.”

“Doesn’t last long. Then you’re stuck feeling shitty again.”

You were tired of his sanctimonious bullshit. He of all people shouldn’t have been lecturing you on using sex as a distraction. “Like you’ve never used me for sex?”

“Fine, yeah, I have. And I don’t want to be used in the same way.”

“You’re such a hypocrite!”

“I don’t want you to regret being with me.”

The intensity in his eyes was spellbinding, piercing you right through to the core. You trembled when he brushed your cheek with his fingers, your heart pounding. Throughout your time together, you’d studied and learned many of his expressions and nuances. The excited bounce in his movements when Anvil booked a new client, the underlying bitterness in his words on those days he’d gone to visit his mother, how dark and glossy his eyes shined when he was about to come. But the way he was watching you now – this was new to you. This was dangerous territory. The last thing you wanted was to get caught up in Billy Russo again.

You wrenched his hand away. “If I have regrets, I wouldn’t bother you with them.” You shrugged your shoulders. “Anyway, I told you yesterday. If we have sex again, I’d see it as closure.”

The shift in his eyes was instant. A second ago there had been warmth in his gaze, now there was only disdain. “So you can move on?”  

“Not just me. You too.”

Molten eyes narrowed into slits. “Maybe I don’t want to move on.”

“What does that even mean?”

His jaw was clenched, his mouth set in a hard line. “Why do you have to make this so complicated? Why can’t we just go back to how things were?”

“I threw myself at you five minutes ago and you rejected me! And now you’re telling me you want to keep sleeping together?” You massaged your temples, feeling a headache coming on. “Are you purposely trying to fuck with my head?”

The sound of your phone vibrating loudly against the coffee table drew your attention. You marched over to see who was calling. Spotting Roger’s name, you tensed immediately. Why would he be calling you late at night unless it was to tell you Adam was being released? Your heart started pounding as you picked up the call. “Hey, Roger. What’s up?”

Billy snickered beside you and you cast him a dirty glance, turning away from him.

“How are you holding up? I was worried about you, I wanted to check in.”

You breathed a sigh of relief that he wasn’t calling with news about Adam. “I’m fine.”

“I received an email from HR. They said you refused an appointment with the therapist?”

“I don’t need to talk to anyone,” you insisted. You’d tried the therapy route years ago and found it to be a waste of time.

“Unfortunately, it’s not optional. You know how it is. Insurance. Liability. All of that. We just need to make sure you’re okay.”

You exhaled a resigned sigh, rubbing the side of your head again. Today was not your day. “Fine. I’ll make an appointment.”

“Good. I’m glad.” He cleared his throat. “And if you need to talk to me, I’m also here.”

“Thank you for the offer but I’m alright.”

“How about we meet for dinner tomorrow?  I want to run some ideas by you about the expansion.”

You groaned internally. You had a stack of work you needed to do and you were hoping to catch up on it this weekend, but turning down a work dinner with your boss wasn’t a smart idea. “Sure. Tomorrow night sounds good.”

“Any preferences?”

“How about Piatti’s?”

“You love that place, don’t you?”

You chuckled. “Yeah, it’s one of my faves.”

“I’ll make reservations for 7pm. See you then.”

“Yeah. Thanks for checking in, Roger.” You hung up and put the phone back on the coffee table.

“Yeah, Roger, thanks for checking in.”

Hearing Billy imitating your voice, you turned around to find him balanced against the edge of the sofa arm, his long legs sprawled in front of him. Arms crossed, he was staring at you with a stern expression. “Isn’t that sweet? First his negligence almost gets you killed, and then he checks in to play the hero.”

You frowned at him. If he was anyone else, you would have thought they were jealous – but you knew Billy didn’t feel that way about you.

His lips twisted into a sneer. “And of course you eat it all up. Because he’s such a fucking sweetheart.”

“What is your problem with him? He’s a nice guy, and he was actually really great with me today.”

“I bet.” Billy’s voice was laced with hostility. “Nice. Sweet. He’s checking of all the right boxes, isn’t he? But can loverboy get you wet? Would he even know how to make you come?”

You finally snapped. “Are you jealous or something?”

Silence hung in the air as he simply stared at you, his jaw ticking. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not my fucking girlfriend.”

His words may have hurt, but they also served as a cruel reminder of why you needed to walk away. “That’s right. I’m not. So this thing you’re doing…” You wagged you index finger back and forth between you and Billy. “This interrogation stops now. I don’t answer to you. Who I’m seeing, who I’m fucking, who I’m interested in, it’s none of your business. So stay out of my life and I’ll stay out of yours.”

He stood up to his full height, probably trying to intimidate you. However you held firm, leveling him with a heated glare as he closed the distance between you. His eyes were cold, contempt etched on his face. “Bring the vibrator on your date night with Roger. Probably only way he can get you off.”

“Fuck you, Billy!”

“Not interested, sweetheart,” he snarked back, walking past you.

When you heard the door shut a few seconds later, you walked over to lock it.

You spent the rest of the evening trying to distract yourself from the warring thoughts in your head. When it wasn’t Adam’s face haunting you, it was Billy mocking you. You tried watching a movie but that did nothing. You attempted working next, but you couldn’t focus. Eventually you realized there was only one thing you could do to lessen the fear. You needed to get ahead of it. Adam may have been angry and unhinged, but he came from a powerful family. Even if he couldn’t be controlled, they could be. So you did what you always did to protect yourself. You started acquiring information you could use as leverage against your enemies.

Part 6

A/N - Thank you, thank you, thank you for all the likes, reblogs, comments, feedback and the asks. I’m so grateful to have wonderful readers like you. As always, if you have the time, I’d love to read your thoughts on this chapter.

If you want to be added/removed from the tag list, please let me know. A few people have asked to be tagged, but for whatever reason, Tumblr wouldn’t let me. I still have you on the list, though you may not receive notifications.

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[rivers-rambles21]

The one with the flipping

Part 10 of The one where Bucky has a cute neigbour series!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader (f)

Summary | Reader and Bucky become friends after he saves her from  a creep in their apartment building. Each chapter explores a different point in their friendship - very slow burn!

Warnings | 18+ only, Smut in later chapters (this is a slow burn), swearing, unprotected sex, oral sex, (later chapters)

We’re starting to see more from The Falcon and The Winter Soldier - there are some bits taken from the show to help shape the story.

We’ll also be seeing Y/N & Bucky texting whilst he’s away

Chapter 10 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 1 | Masterlist

It didn’t feel right with Bucky away. Although he’d only been gone for just over a day you felt the void he left. Over the past few months you’d become inseparable, seeing each other every day - whether it be hitting the gym together, cooking or just hanging out.

After coming home from yet another terrible day at work, you wanted nothing more than to open a bottle of wine and binge watch TV with Bucky who was undoubtedly now your best friend. 

You were two glasses in when you heard a banging outside your apartment door. 

Stepping out into the hallway you were greeted with two cops hammering away on Bucky’s door, nearly breaking it clean off. “Excuse me, can I help you?” 

Both officers quickly spun on the spot and reached for their guns, stopping when they saw you were on your own. “Do you know the man who lives here?” 

“Yes, do you?”

“Ma’am do you know where he is?” 

“No I don’t” You lied, not trusting the two men infront of you. 

One of their radios suddenly turned on “-he’s is now in custody in Baltimore” 

Both cops nodded to one another before turning back to you. “Nevermind ma’am” 

You watched as they left as quickly as they arrived before running back into your apartment, grabbing your phone and frantically calling Bucky. You tried a few more times before stuffing your wallet into your purse and heading for the door. 

Fortunately you managed to catch a last minute flight to Baltimore after confirming with the police precinct they were holding him in . You hadn’t thought twice about going to him, your heart ached at the thought of him being confined to a cell, trapping him like an animal. 

After paying the cab driver your fare, you sprinted into the precinct heading straight for the desk. 

“Hi, you’re holding my friend Bucky -  I mean James Barnes.” You panted, tired from the sprint to the officer behind the desk.

“Who the hell are you?” 

Turning around, you came face to face with someone you instantly recognised. “Falcon” You grinned, a little bit star struck at meeting an actual Avenger. 

Sure Bucky was one too but to you he wasn’t some superhero on the evening news who fought aliens and terrorists, he was just Bucky - your friend who stole your food and listened to your never ending rants. 

Realising you hadn’t answered his question, you continued. “I’m Y/N, a friend of Bucky’s.” You extended your hand out to him which he shook. 

“Sam” He replied, releasing your hand from his. 

“The one who believes wizards are real” You joked, trying to remove the tension. 

“I’ll tell you the same thing I told the cyborg, a wizard is a sorcerer without a hat!”

“Uhuh” You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Have they said when they’ll let him out yet?” 

Sam gestured you to the seating area and sat down. “Once his therapist arrives they’ll let him out.” You sat in comfortable silence for a few moments as the busy precinct bustled around you, cops and civilians passing through constantly. 

Sam was the first to break the silence. 

“Do you want to watch a funny video?”

The first time you watched the video of Bucky jumping out of the plane you were worried sick he’d hurt himself with his terrible landing. But by the fifth time watching it you’d found it hysterical as you laughed along with Sam as you watched the video over and over again from different angles to kill the time. 

Reluctantly, you left the waiting area and headed to the restroom to relieve yourself. When you came back you were stumped to find Sam wasn’t where you’d left him. 

“Excuse me, do you know where the man that was sat there went?” You asked the officer behind the desk. 

“Therapy session” She replied, pointing towards the double doors before returning back to furiously typing on her computer. 

“Thanks” You muttered before returning back to your seat, patiently waiting. 

You didn’t have to wait for long before Sam came back with an annoyed look etched across his face. “He’ll be out in a minute” he said as he passed by you, heading for the exit. 

With a sigh of relief you stood from your seat and adjusted your clothing as you watched the door with eager eyes. 

The moment you saw him through the small windows you felt all the stress and anxiety of the day seep out of you as you saw he was relatively okay. 

Bucky must have been distracted as he didn’t notice you standing in front of him until his eyes landed on you, his mouth hanging open in shock. 

“Hey Buck” 

“Doll what are you doing here?” He asked as he strode over to you, pulling you into him in a tight hug, your face pressed against his warm chest. Your arms wound around his back, pulling him in closer, his scent overwhelming your senses. He left a kiss upon your head before pulling back slightly to look down at you, searching for answers. 

“Cops came to your apartment looking for you, and then I heard they’d got you and I just panicked. Are you okay?” Reaching up, you cupped his face in your hand, your thumb stroking his soft cheek. 

His eyes fluttered closed for a moment before he opened them again, suddenly aware of where you were. 

“C’mon lets get out of here.” Taking your hand in his, he led you out of the station and into the fresh evening air. 

A shiver ran down your spine as the cold air hit your bare arms. In your rush to go after Bucky you’d foolishly foregone a jacket. 

Instantly noticing your discomfort, Bucky dropped your hand and shrugged his jacket off and wrapped it around your shoulders, the leather swamping your form. 

“Thanks” You said shyly, Bucky merely smiled back at you in response. 

“Well I feel better” Sam’s voice broke you out of the moment as he walked up to you both. Bucky opened his mouth to respond before being interrupted by the sound of a siren and flashing lights.

“Gentlemen!” You recognised the voice from the news - the Captain America knock off. “Good to see you again.” 

You felt Bucky's hand slide down your arm to grasp your hand once again as he walked towards the imposter, angling you behind him. 

“Look, if we divide ourselves, we don’t stand a chance, you guys know that.” 

“So what do you got?” Sam asked, rolling his eyes. 

“Well the leaders name’s Karli Morgenthau. We’ve been targeting civilians who’ve been helping Karli move from place to place.”

“They geotagged a location then scrambled the signal. But our satellites have found their symbol popping up in various displaced communities all across Central and Eastern Europe.”

“We think she’s taking the medicine she just stole to one of these camps.” 

“Well, there are hundreds of those all over the planet since The Blip so I guess you’ll have to look real hard.” If it wasn’t for present company you’d have rolled your eyes at Bucky’s sarcasm.

“Good thing I have 20/20 vision, huh?”

“Where is she now, Walker? Do you know?” 

“No we don’t know Bucky. It’s only a matter of time before we find out”  

“Things are really intense for you, aren’t they Walker” Your lips twitched as you fought off a smirk.

“Take it easy. Look Walker’s right. It is imperative that we find them and stop them. But you guys have rules of engagement and all kinds of authorisations you have to get. We’re free agents. We’re more flexible. So it wouldn’t make sense for us to work with you.” 

You all turned to walk away, Bucky squeezing your hand as you did before fake Captain America stopped you in your tracks. “A word of advice then… stay the hell out of my way.” The two men turned and began to walk before Walker stopped again. “Nice to finally meet you Y/N” 

You felt Bucky tense as he turned back to the two men, his eyes glaring at them. Gently, you squeezed his hand and tugged his arm, pulling him back towards Sam, not bothering to respond to dumb and dumber. Looking down at you, he sighed before complying. 

With one last glance behind, you raised your hand as though to wave before smirking and flipping them both off instead - earning a chuckle from Sam.

A few blocks later, Sam hung back to give you and Bucky a moment alone. 

“I can’t believe you came for me doll” Bucky couldn’t keep his hands off you, he kept switching from rubbing your arms to keep you warm and tucking pieces of hair behind your ears. After the day he’d had you was a welcome sight, reminding him that not everything in his life was terrible. 

“Of course I did” You replied, confused as to why he would even doubt it. “I’d do anything for you.” Your confession came as a shock to both of you. You weren’t quite sure as to why you voiced your feelings, maybe it was the day of stress finally getting to you, or the realisation what Bucky and Sam was up to was dangerous and you feared losing him. But regardless of your reasoning, you didn’t regret saying it. 

Bucky's breath hitched as his blue eyes searched yours, looking for the moment where you’d crack a smile and make a joke out of it. But that didn’t happen. 

Gently, Bucky leant forward and pressed his lips against your forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling back. “I don’t want you getting caught up in this doll.” His right hand cradled the back of your head as his eyes sought yours, trying to memorise every part of your face, committing it to memory. 

“I’ll stay out of it, I promise. I just couldn’t bear the thought of you caged up again-” Your voice had become erratic as you processed the days events. Bucky pulled you into another hug, silencing you as he did, his metal hand rubbing up and down your back. 

“I’ll be fine y’know that right? But I have to stop these people Y/N, the serum can’t end up in the wrong hands. I need you to trust me, to trust I know what I’m doing.” 

You merely nodded in response, too caught up in the feeling of being in his arms. 

Bucky pulled away from the hug and stroked your cheek, wiping away the tears you hadn’t realised had fallen. “Cmon, where’s that smile?” 

You couldn’t resist his boyish charm and smiled back at him, although weakly. 

“Attagirl”

__________________

If you’d like to be added to the tag list let me know!

 @xpurpleglitter​

[actress4him]

Querencia 9 - Trying

(Day 3 of Whumptober 2021)

Taglist: @darthsutrich , @inky-whump , @lave-whump

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Fandom: Original work

Warnings: lady whumpee (no whumper), referenced fantastic prejudice, referenced panic attack, referenced homelessness, panic, touch repulsion, trauma

No. 3 - STICKS AND STONES MAY BREAK MY BONES BUT…

taunting | insults | “Who did this to you?”

.

Nari and Jamil sit at the kitchen table for a long time after Liliana rushes out, lost in their own thoughts. Jamil is probably berating himself for feeding the kid bacon, and Nari knows she should talk to him about it, but she can’t seem to pull herself out of her own spiral of, What do we do? How can we possibly fix this…fix her?They’re in way over their heads. Yeah, they all came into this team with their own types of trauma, but not like this. She’s not a therapist. None of them are. That’s what the kid probably needs, a therapist, but somehow she gets the feeling the suggestion wouldn’t go over well.

Jamil is actually finally the one to break the stormy silence. “Um, do you want some breakfast?”

Normally she’d get it herself but he needs something to do right now, something to make himself feel better about what just happened. “Sure. What you’re having is fine.”

He busies himself getting out eggs and firing up the stove.

“You had no way of knowing.”

He nods without turning around. “Yeah, I know. Still feel bad, though.”

“I know.” She sighs, drums her blunted fingernails on the table top. “It’s gonna take time.”

At this he spins around, still holding a brown egg just a shade lighter than the palm it’s cradled in. “What…what do you know, do you know anything more than what Quinn told us? Where she’s from, what happened to her?”

Nari shakes her head. “Nope. She spoke more this morning than I’ve heard from her so far…if you don’t count the things she was saying in the hall last night. I’m hoping she’ll open up to us eventually, but…it’s gonna take time.”

Jamil chews on his lip, thumb rubbing over the smooth surface of the eggshell. “Probably has something to do with her powers, huh?”

She offers him a small, sad smile. “Probably.”

Jamil is one of the lucky ones. He grew up in India, where the revelation of people with powers had gone over quite differently than many other countries. He has two loving parents that were happy to encourage him in exploring his powers. There had never been a day when he had to be afraid for his life because of what he could do…until he came to the U.S. and joined their team, of course. Sometimes she wonders if he ever regrets his choice. He’s the heart and soul of their little family, though. She can’t imagine not having him here.

Shaking his head, he turns back to the stove and cracks the egg on the edge of the counter. “It’s been what, two years now?” He doesn’t have to specify that he means since Frost saved that burning building and turned everyone’s view of Supers upside down. “When are we gonna stop having to deal with the fallout of people’s stupidity over ‘Nons’?”

Nari leans onto her elbow and fiddles with her eyebrow ring. “I wish I knew, dude. I wish I knew.”

.

Thankfully Nari is able to coax Lili out of her room for lunch fairly easily. The door opens to a practically brand-new person, obviously having taken advantage of the shower after breakfast. There are no more streaks of dirt across her face, and her once frizzy, tangled hair frames her cheeks in soft curls.

She looks like the kid she is. A nineteen year old girl, according to Jamil, who should be starting her first year of college or working at Starbucks and hanging out with her friends going to parties and concerts.

Not living on the streets. Not having panic attacks because she thinks she’s going to be in trouble for healing someone.

The only thing ruining the illusion is the baggy long sleeve tee that used to be white, and the navy blue lounge pants that are streaked with mud and pool around her ankles. And, of course, the ever present gloves, threadbare as well. Nari makes a mental note to slip some of her own clothes into the dresser in Lili’s room, at least until they can take her shopping.

Not much is said over lunch, a simple affair of various kinds of sandwiches. Liliana manages to eat one with only jelly, and the rest of them pretend very hard to not be watching her like hawks.

Nari and Alex both invite her to hang out with them afterwards, but she shies away and retreats back to her bedroom.

The next couple of days pass in the same way. They barely see her except for meals, though she is eating more and more. Jamil has made it his personal mission to come up with things for them to eat that are simple but interesting. Nari is able to get a few pieces of clothing to Lili, and, though it takes her a while, she eventually shows up wearing some of them. It’s a change that brings a smile to all of their faces. The subject of shopping, though, seems to throw her into a near panic, and Alex saves the day by quickly changing the subject before she can make another hasty retreat.

On the third evening, she finally gives in to their requests to hang out, much to everyone’s surprise and delight. They’re taking turns playing sports games on the Wii, something Quinn insists on them having because, “If you’re gonna burn your brain cells staring at a screen, you might as well get a little exercise while you do it.” It seemed like the best option for Lili, since they had no idea if she had any experience with video games.

She spends most of the time curled up in the armchair, separate from everyone, not making a sound. But she’s here. She’s present, with the team, seeing them behave together like friends, like a family, and that’s gotta count for something. Nari is encouraged by it, anyway.

She’ll get there. This is a good first step.

It seems like an even better step when Alex somehow convinces/coerces her into taking a remote and joining him in a game of archery. She looks so small next to him, silhouetted against the big screen, and her hands shake so badly for the first couple of rounds that she barely hits the target.

But she doesn’t give up. She doesn’t run away. And little by little, as they all encourage and cheer her on, she seems to even relax, her virtual arrows hitting closer and closer to the center.

It’s enough to bring a smile to Nari’s face.

Then the game ends, and Lili loses badly, of course, but everyone still cheers and she seems the most comfortable she’s been yet. Not smiling, but not stiff and cautious, either.

Until Alex puts a friendly hand on her shoulder.

In the blink of an eye she’s crumpled into a pile on the floor. Nari isn’t even sure to start with what happened, it’s all so fast, but she is sure that Lili is kicking frantically against the floor, trying to get away from Alex. Immediately he drops down to her level, apologizing, but the damage is already done, despite the fact that none of them have any idea what the damage is or means or how to keep it from happening again. As soon as she’s far enough away from him to deem it safe, she bolts to her feet and runs out of the room.

In the silence that follows her exit they all hear the quiet clicks of her bedroom door closing and locking.

“I…I don’t know…I didn’t use my strength on her, I promise, it wasn’t that hard. And I could have sworn she saw it coming, I made sure she was facing me first before…” It’s rare for Alex to be at a loss for words, but he just shakes his head and drops down the rest of the way to the floor.

Quinn sighs. “It’s okay, Alex. We know you didn’t mean to. I think it’s safe to say that any kind of touch is off limits for now, though, until we find out more.”

Nari is still staring at the doorway where Lili disappeared, her heart aching at the sudden leap backwards in progress, at the fear she had seen flashing in Liliana’s eyes in the near-darkness. “Oh, jagiya. Who did this to you?”

“I don’t know.” Jamil steps up next to her, eyes trained in the same direction. “But whoever it is, when I find them I’m gonna make them wish they’d never laid eyes on her.”

[mindofharry]

here’s some vampire harry!!!!! pls treat him with the love and respect he deserves <3

“Honey, this is just water under the bridge” Your mother, Joanne, reassured you. She placed a rogue piece of hair behind your ear. You were both sitting on your bed, cuddling like you were 10 years old again. Getting fired, from your dream job for no apparent reason at all has basically broken you. Your mother is trying to reassure you, that it was meant to happen - that everything happens for a reason. You just want your job back.

“We’ll start job hunting again, next week. Ok?” Joanne said, you sighed and rolled over on your sighed. Your mum rubbed your back and took all the dirty cups from your room with her as she left your room.

You tried to sleep, to try and forget everything that had just happened that afternoon. But, your mind was occupied and too busy. So you decided you better start looking for some jobs, even interviews. Even though you still live with your mum, you still need money. Not just for yourself, but your mum too. All the money that comes into the house is coming from you and the jobs you have. You were finally comfortable with money, for the first in your life. But the world just really hated you at the moment.

You walk over your desk and sit down, opening up the second hand laptop you bought yourself for christmas. It’s nothing special like a mac, but it does the job. Once you’re logged in, you open google and type in ‘JOBS IN MY AREA’. You didn’t go to college and you barley passed high school, you’ll be lucky if you even get a job at the local book store.

You needed to stop this, punishing yourself. It’s not your fault, you remind yourself.

Nearly falling asleep at your desk, you decided to head to bed. Tomorrow will be better.

**

Tomorrow is not better. It’s worse than yesterday. You couldn’t even bare to open your laptop after being so disappointed last night. And you’re mum kept trying to reassure you, but you felt responsible for this.

Your mum couldn’t work, she’s not well and she’s in denial about it. She goes to AA meetings and talks with therapists, but she just can’t stay sober. You’ve tried to get her into working, but she manages to fuck it up everytime. Your mum is good mother, she took care of you and did the best she could. But sometimes you just wished she’d just stay sober, for even a week. So you could be a normal 19 year old, go out for drinks and hang out with friends. But you know she’s not a normal mum. And that’s something you just have to live with.

“Morning, love” Joanne said sipping on her ‘tea’. You knew it was alcohol so you gave her a pointed look.

She sighed and poured the drink down the sink. “Good, now go brush your teeth and we can talk” you say pulling your hair up. You mother shook her head and sighed. “I’m the mum here, Y/N. Don’t treat me like i’m the teenager” she said and you laughed. Really? This is how today’s going to go? the universe really hates me, you thought.

“You just hid vodka from me mum” you say and she sighed walking over and kissing your temple. “I’m sorry, ok? I’m trying, lovey” she said and you could tell how hard she was trying to keep together. you nodded and smiled, this was going to be a good day. Bite your tongue, Y/N.

“Yeah, i know. Now go get ready, i need help job hunting” you say and she nodded making her way out of the kitchen and up to her room. You sighed and put the kettle on. You walked into the pantry and took the vodka she had opened and poured it down the sink. Let’s see how long it takes her to notice.

You sat down with your cup of tea and one for your mum, opening up the paper and your laptop.

When your mum came back in, she looked a lot nicer and healthier. The shower did her good.

“So i saw someone looking for an assistant on facebook” Your mum said logging into her facebook on your laptop. You smiled to yourself, she really cared about you. “His name is harry i think, something along the lines of needing someone to sort out his schedule which you’re pretty good at” she said showing you the post. A few, actually a lot, of people had already liked the post and there was people sharing their CVs in the comments begging for a chance. You didn’t have the heart to tell your mum that this person wasn’t going to accept you.

“I mean, you can apply for other jobs but i think it’s perfect for you” She said biting her nip nervously. You nodded smiling in reassurance. “Yeah, it’s perfect mum. Thank you, i’ll try and get an interview. I also found a cleaning job too, so that’s good. Both jobs look like they pay well” you say with a shrug.

Joanne nodded and kissed your temple. “You’ll get a job. Don’t worry about it.”

After sending your CV to multiple possible bosses, you shut your laptop and turn your phone off of silent. Job hunting is a pain in the ass and exhausting, all you can do now is make lunch and hope for the best.

**

You were braiding your mothers hair when you got the call. You were both having a girly night as your mum hadn’t drank a sip of alcohol all day, it was definitely something to celebrate.

“Is this Y/N L/N i’m speaking with?” the voice asked, he sounded so bright and chipper. And he was irish too.

“This is her! how can i help you?” you asked and the man cleared his throat and paused for a second. “I’m offering you a job. the job” he said and you almost dropped your phone. You put it on your leg, on speaker so your mum could hear and you could multitask. You brushed the ends of your mum hair and let out a shaky breath.

“Do i need to come in for an interview?”

“Well, me and the boss would like to get to know you, get a feel of how you work on your own and with help. just like a test run, but if i’m being honest the is yours” he said and you could almost cry. “You’re exactly the kind of person Harry, my boss is looking for Y/N” he said.

“I’m niall by the way, i’m harry’s personal assistant” Niall said and you smiled.

“Well, when can i come in?”

After settling some stuff with Niall, who is kind of your boss too you were free to hang up. your mum squealed and pulled you into the tightest hug ever. “I told you, everything happens for a reason! you were exactly who they were looking for, babe” your mother said caressing your cheeks. You kissed her temple and nodded.

“You’re the best, you know that?” You said and your mum shrugged. “Eh, i’m okay” she giggled, you sat back down on the couch.

“Lay down, mum. We’ve got it sorted now”

You were going in to the offices, or as what niall called STYLES x MALIK, harry styles and zayn malik are both the bosses of the fashion company they both created. They have a headquarters in the states, but they’re just starting up a new headquarters in england, as harry and zayn grew up here and would like to see their families a lot more. Niall basically told you their whole life story over the phone, which you were very thankful for. Saves you the googling.

It was a tuesday morning, when you got the go ahead to pop in. Niall said to look nice, but casual. Like you’re going out for a dinner with your partners family. So you pull out your best high waisted flare jeans, an orange stripped shirt and tucked into your jeans. You topped it off with your lucky platforms and some jewellery. You left your hair natural, and the same with your makeup only some lip gloss and mascara.

“You look beautiful, honey”

“Thanks mum” You grinned pulling her into a hug. You placed your bag over your shoulder and took the car keys from the bowl at the front door. “I’ll be back soon, ok? Go for a walk or something” you say squeezing her hand, before leaving.

20 minutes away from you, is a angry, grumpy vampire. Niall was sat in front of harry, with a grin on his face.

“She’s literally perfect harry” Niall try to reason, but harry was having absolutely none of it. He wanted to rip that blonde son of bitch heart out.

“Niall, i didn’t want her though.” Harry said standing up from his desk, opening up a file and pointing at a picture.

“i wanted her”

Harry was pointing at a girl, blonde hair, blue eyes and great blood. He had tasted her before and worked his magic into getting her an interview - of course, she doesn’t remember him though. But this Y/N girl, he didn’t want her and he never agreed to having her come here today.

“You’ll have to fire her or make up some excuse, fuck i need something” Harry mumbled placing a hand over his eyes, Niall walked over to the fridge in the corner of harrys office he opened it up and took out a bag of blood pouring it in to a small glass. He placed it on the table standing in front of a frustrated vampire.

“She’s really good, Harry. You’ll regret it if you don’t let her do the test run” Niall said before walking to the door. “And she’s hot as fuck” he added leaving the room.

Harry hated being the bad guy, usually he’s a nice person. More lively, a bit like niall. A lot more quiet though, he’s pensive and reads people really well, one of his many talents as a vampire.

Harry was born in 1908, to a wealthy family. He had caring parents, a loving sister and good future a head of him. Until he met liam payne, they met in university decided to work together. The next thing you know, liam had his fangs in harrys neck and he was immortal. The first few years were hard, he was wreck less and did everything possible to get even a drop of blood. He met zayn five years after being turned, and he was sort of like the alpha of their ‘pack’ so to speak. He taught harry all he knew about control and using powers to get what you want, but only when you so desperately need it. They met niall in the 70s, he was freshly turned and needed help. They took him under their wings, and here they are today with a fashion company and a load of money in their pockets.

“What’s all the fuss about?” Zayn asked walking into harrys office with a few files in his hands. Harry huffed and sipped on the blood niall had poured for him. “I’m closed” harry said sitting down on his chair, zayn laughed and shook his head. “You have an interview in 5 minutes, get it together styles” Zayn said and dropped the files on his desk.

“Whether we hire or not, be nice. Her file is there, read it, study it. And keep those fangs to yourself” Zayn warned pointing at harry, then walked out of his office. Harry sighed and opened the file, stopping in his tracks when he saw your face.

You’re beautiful, so fucking beautiful.

He could tell the photo was professionally done, and you definitely had gotten someone to take it in a rush. Your CV is also a mess, but harry thinks it’s endearing. God, you’ve hypnotised him already. Harry could feel your aura through a picture, how the fuck was that even possible?

“She’s here” Niall said through the glass door. Harry nodded and cracked his neck, let’s get this over with then.

He could see niall biting his lip as she walked up, he couldn’t keep it in his pants for 2 seconds.

Niall opened the door and harry watched the girl walk in, her flares and platforms got his attention. She’s perfect. For him. Niall was still checking her out, so harry cleared his throat. Niall smirked and shook his head walking out of the office.

“Take a seat” Harry said and you smiled, sitting down. “I just want to say, i’m really grateful for this opportunity” you say, and harry nearly rolled his eyes. She’s too beautiful for a sob story. “I appreciate it” you say, and harry nodded quickly wanting to move away from anything emotional.

“um, so we don’t need you” He lied and you nearly choked on you own spit. Your eyebrows furrowed and you flushed a bit. Harry could see niall shaking his head. Damn you, super human hearing.

“Don’t need me? Niall said that i was just what you were looking for” you say, not angry just confused. Harry was impressed at how well you could keep your feelings in check, but he could feel how agitated you were becoming.

“Well, he’s wrong” Harry said and closed the file. “Have a nice day” He said with a fake smile. You couldn’t believe this. Fuck this.

“Fuck you” You said grabbing your bag and hoisting it up onto your shoulder. “Woah, Woah, what’s going on in here?” Zayn asked his hands in the air.

“Ask him, thanks for nothing” You say moving to walk out of the office. You needed to get out of here. “Just wait” Zayn called out, you stopped and sighed turning around.

“You’ve got the job” zayn said and your eyes widened in shock. “You start this friday, niall will email you detail. Use this week to treat yourself, on me ok?” Zayn said handing you a 50 dollar note. Who are you to deny money? You nodded and smiled at him. “Thank you” you say and he nodded.

“Don’t disappoint me”

**

You got yourself a coffee on the way home, you were a little overwhelmed and you needed to calm down before you went home to your mum. You just hope she didn’t do anything stupid while you were out.

“Mum, i’m home” you called out handing your bag up on the hanger. You got no response, so you looked around the house. Nothing in the kitchen or bathroom. The only places left are her room and living room.

You walked into the living room, to see your mum passed out on the couch a bottle of wine and an empty bottle of vodka on the coffee table. you sighed “Oh, mum” you said tears welling up in your eyes. “Why do you keep doing this” you mumbled picking up the wine and empty bottle, you put them away and cleaned up the cup. After that, you placed a blanket over her.

“You’ll get better soon, mum. I’ll be able to pay for it. We’ll have everything we’ve ever dreamt of and more” You say, kissing her forehead.

The next couple of days, you were nursing your mother back to health and used the 50 dollars your new boss gave you to by some groceries. Your mother really needed some hangover snacks, and she needed a lot of them. Luckily, you’ve been doing this a lot longer than you should’ve.

“Mum, i’m off to work” You said peaking through her door. She wasn’t talking to you at the moment.

“Alright, there’s medicine on the counter downstairs, snacks and stuff too. There’s no alcohol and no money, so don’t even try” You warned closing her door. God, this was so hard. You wondered how long it would take to be fired from this job.

You arrived early at the office, niall greeted you and took you to your own little office. It was nothing huge, but you absolutely adored it.

“Hey, don’t worry about harry” Niall said and you nodded. “I’m not, don’t worry” you reassured him smiling as you put down your diary.

“Good, well i’ll leave you to it” Niall said and you grinned at him.

“Good luck”

“Why?”

“You’ll need it”

[honeypirate]

Just In Case

Part two

Pro hero Bakugou x fem pro hero reader

in my world Recovery Girl lives forever and trains another who can replace her when she retires who she passes the hero title of recovery girl too.

Anyway on to the story that’s probably not as good as I want but oh well.

Warning- angst. Death. Blood. Ya know the works.

Inspiration- Murder In the City // The Avett Brothers

You write a letter every day. A new one so it stays relevant. Every morning you took ten minutes to quickly write out a letter just in case anything bad happens while you’re at work.

You see, being a hero isnt all rainbows and butterflies and ranks. Sometimes it’s boring. But other times, it’s scary and horrifying. Those days where you barely make it out on top because the villains were crafty.

After one hard therapy session filled with worries and tears, your therapist suggested letters. At least one. To your husband. Just in case.

This morning wasn’t different than your last, you can hear your husband in his office across the hall, humming a song you listened to at dinner the previous night. He made your heart happy with everything he did, minus the way he left his used teeth floss sticks on the counter or the way he could be a little loud.

Every morning you write this letter, periodically meeting his eye through your open doors and he’d wink, making you laugh and stick your tongue out.

Today you watched as he moved, methodical, he’s done this every morning and it shows but he still takes care with every movement.

“Are you ready?” He says as he crosses the hallway “we’re needed in half an hour so we should go soon” you smile at him and somethjng settles in your stomach. Something heavy and uncomfortable. Something wrong.

“Yeah I’m almost done” you say and he watches as you fold your letter and place it in an envelope, writing his name followed by ‘just in case’ then sticking it in your top drawer.

The letters he’s been told about. The letters he supports. He’s actually been writing his own to you as well but you both agreed that you can’t read then unless it’s actually happening.

You try to not focus on the hard substance in your stomach or the way it seems to ache. It’s a bad feeling but sometimes your anxiety could cause them for no reason so you tried not to pay too much attention to it.

“Ready” you say softly, pulling down your hero mask to press your lips to his for a moment. He helps you readjust your mask with a pink flush in his cheeks. You’ve been married for years but making him blush is as easy as it was day one.

(Skippy skip)

The villains were smart, drawing all the heroes to different locations. You were climbing the stairs of an abandoned building, going to see if the intel about a bomb on the third floor was true, which unfortunately, it was.

Your hands hovered over the bomb, using your electric quirk to cancel out the wires and stop the timer. A scuffing sound catches your attention and you’re dodging a metal rod that was thrown at you to only be stabbed by one from a different direction.

The villain could control metal with his quirk, throwing the rod at you from one direction when he was coming from a different side. “Huh” you say softly as you look down at the rod through your stomach, the pain not even registering yet. “Poor unfortunate hero.” He lifts you by the metal rod and you scream, white hot pain shooting through you as it tears your abdomen as he slams you into the ground, pushing the rod further through you until it connects to the concrete floor.

“I’m sorry I can’t stay long. I have a hot date later” he says as he restarts the bomb, placing it farther from you so you couldn’t reach it with your powers, then he’s hopping from the third story window and waving at you with a smirk.

Your hand flies to your ear piece “There’s a bomb! Third floor tallest abandoned building in the-“ and that’s all you can get out before the bomb goes off and the building is collapsing.

The area was covered in dust and smoke, ash falling from the sky. You ripped your mask off trying to get more air into your lungs but it didn’t help that a giant piece of concrete was crushing your right arm and part of your ribs and chest, not to mention you’re still attached to the rod.

“Bakugou” you say through your headpiece, coughing up blood and ash “where are you?” He shouts back “the bomb” you muttered back and it sounded wheezy, you could hear the fluid in your lungs. You heard more explosions before he was appearing right beside you.

“Hey there hot stuff” you say and chuckle softly as he brushes the dust out of your hair “I’ll get you out of here. You’ll be okay” he’s saying but his eyes are filling with tears and his brows are knit. “It’ll be okay” you say but he does not look in your eyes. He’s still fretting, trying to think of how to save you.

“Bakugou.” You say in a commanding voice and he looks at you “you’ll be okay” you whisper, your blood covered lips smiling gently. You reach up with your left hand and cup his cheek, brushing away the hot tears that have started to fall. “You’ll be okay” you say again, your voice sounding weaker “no” he whispers “no. I’ll save you. You’ll be fine. I’ll get you help” kirishima is in your headpiece, telling you how he’s sent first responders your way but you can’t hear him.

Your voice is quiet, your hand going limp and falling from his cheek “You are the best part of me”

He doesn’t know where he’s going. He left the police station and was just walking. He couldn’t go home. Not when it was your home too. Not when he knows he’ll just be reminded of you and how you smiled at him this morning. How he woke up to you kissing his neck. How that will never happen again.

Walking into the office he didn’t bother with any of the lights. He puts in his alarm code and numbly makes his way to your office.

If you’re reading this. That means I’ve died.

Oh god I’ve always hated these letters. It’s so dramatic. I’m going to be okay. I have to be.

But just in case, since were up against major villains every day, I’ll write this letter. The 54th I’ve written so far.

Anyway I would regret not saying anything if it was my last day alive. I know I’m going to go home tonight and hold you, kiss you, and spend it like it was my last. This won’t be different than the last 53 letters I’ve shredded.

But. Life is short. It’s short and before you know it it can be snuffed out like a candle in the wind. So here we go.

If I get murdered in the city tomorrow, don’t go revenging in my name. A person dead from such is plenty, no need to go get locked away. I know you’ll blame yourself and get mad and swear revenge. Bakugou I love you. Let go of the hate and the rage. All I want is you to be happy and you to be okay.

But there’s no need to get over alarmed, I’m coming home I know it.

(His tears start to hit the paper, hot big tears blotting the ink and making it hard to see. )

So if tomorrow is my last day. Ill leave this letter in my desk.

Don’t bother with my belongings. Things never really mattered to me, you know that. Donate them. Burn then. Whatever you want.

Tell my sister that I love her. That I’m sorry if she ever doubted that.

I wonder what my parents will say. Probably that they were proud of me. Please let them know how much I loved them. How much I loved my childhood.

Now for you, my love, my sweetheart. The love of my life I’m sure of it. There was nothing worth sharing like the love that let us share our name. The love that let me share your name for these few years.

Thank you. For loving me. For supporting me. For choosing me every day. I’ve never doubted it once. I’ll always be with you, even if you can’t see me.

I'm watching you in your office right now, youre humming that song that played at the restaurant last night.

If I had never seen your face this world would have been such a very different place for me. It would be quieter and colorless. You have truly given me so much in this life that I can never hope to repay you.

You can never know which way your heart will go, but you are the compass leading mine. It will always point to you.

You’ve made me feel alive made me want to live so I could experience all my dreams coming true with you by my side.

I don’t know what else to add

Please, if you know anything, let it be that you were my greatest happiness in life.

I’ll always come home to you

I love you

-y/n

His hand is shaking as he finishes the letter.

He takes a sharp inhale and his knees give out, falling to the floor beside your desk with a soft gasp that turned into a sob as he broke down.

“You. You promised” he whispered between sobs, not even bothering to wipe away the tears as he hugs his arms around himself, hunching forward as his tears make soft patting sounds as the hit the hard wood floor.

He doesn’t know how Kirishima found him but when he runs through the office and sighs with relief when he finds him, he doesn’t move. He stays, broken on the floor, sobbing. Kiri doesn’t freeze, he’s there in a second, wrapping his arms around his best friend. Trying to give him a little comfort.

Kirishima's phone rings and Bakugou growls, taking it from his hand as kiri goes to silence it, pressing answer without looking to see who it is “what” he yells out, his nose stuffy and throat constricted showing how much he’s been sobbing.

Recovery Girls voice is stern through the receiver “You need to get down here right away. She’s alive.”

[halinski]

I have a lot of feelings about Buck, like don't even ask, I will never be able to put it into words or anything other than abstract feelings in this world

I just know this, Eddie loves Buck and Buck is ace and Taylor is a relapse ✌️

"You've been shutting me out."

It's ironic, Eddie thinks, that these exact words come now 20 minutes after the black out, which felt like maybe the world had shut down. They were stuck mid rescue in an elevator and well, the world had been such a whirlwind since he'd been shot, and this emergency and that- but now it had stopped. And they'd succumbed to their fate, sat down on the dingy elevator floor, bathed in a red back up light, the building silent around them. Out there, somewhere, a siren rang, and Buck sighed.

It was deep and heavy, like he was Atlas lifting the world off his shoulders for a break, something like relief, like that first deep shuddering breath when your lungs finally recovered from a run. It was way too heavy for a young man, barely thirty, who was finding himself. Eddie knew that Buck had been fighting lately. Mostly himself, but also his parents and past, and pushing past the boundaries of life that had been set around him. Then there was the shooting and Buck had truly been nerve-wrecked, Eddie was far from blind, and hell, he'd been a little preoccupied with figuring himself out, and recovering, letting go and paving the way for a future with no regrets- but he'd seen Buck. It was harder to look away at this point.

But he had, because the world had been spinning and Buck had been putting enough pressure on himself, becoming an uncle, and taking care of Chris with full abandon, and therapy and... Taylor. Eddie hadn't wanted to push too hard.

Now that they were here though, just the two of them...

Buck's looking at him, that irritated lost puppy stare, vulnerable and defiant all at once, like Eddie was the first to venture into certain spaces that made up Evan Buckley. It was a deliberant choice, at this point. Back in the beginning, he'd just reached out a hand and had been surprised to find an anchor to the world he'd never knew existed, and now he ventured further deliberately.

It hadn't been a question, and even so Buck looked ready to fight him, a last defensive wall, before he caved and those murky blue eyes dropped away. Full submission.

Eddie waited, opening up the room and hoping for his partner in crime and rescue to fill it and yet... Buck only shrugged weakly.

"Things have been..." He started half-heartedly, losing motivation half-way through and concluding with a disheartened, "busy." Eddie watched him busy himself with the callouses on his palm, picking and rubbing, as if he could erase the last few weeks of running himself ragged.

There had definitely been a lot less mentions of calls to Dr. Copeland lately, a lot of unfocused Buck, who was making himself smaller, less noticeable and quieter. Not that he was actually quiet, Eddie knew Buck could fill the building with vibrance for the benefit of everyone around within the blink of an eye. But his true emotions dwindled, where they'd slipped out before in shadows of an action, or an obvious plea hidden in drowning eyes - now he was more... Calculated.

And even now, Buck lifted his head again under Eddie's scrutiny in square-jawed surrender as if that was that to this conversation, there was nothing more to be done.

Eddie was not convinced. They'd gotten way too far, the two of them, to slip back down to the trenches in this mud slide. Eddie had found solid footing in his own world, and he was unafraid right here, under private eyes with the one person in the world he trusted most. Solid enough that he could stare right back at the nervous energy Buck was holding back and dare it.

What are you so afraid?

A question he had asked himself many sleepless nights, especially after Carla's little "follow your heart" speech, after he'd laid in bed, heart racing, hearing shots and all he wanted had been to-

All he'd wanted was safety, and he could've kept lying to himself, could've deliriously shouted at the universe that he didn't know where he could ever feel safe again, and yet his own body and heart had long gone betrayed him that day in the hospital just before he'd walked out, explicitly stating that he had signed his heart off to Buck a year ago. He couldn't even call it betrayal, because there wasn't a single cell in his body that doubted his decision, that doubted Buck. He just doubted... Himself.

And maybe that he'd be enough for Buck right now, still. He was so far from his best self, and yet better and more stable than he'd ever been. So he sat and he stared back, arms resting easily in his lap, and challenged.

"Why do you keep going back to her?"

Goddammit, Eddie, way to sound like the most jealous jerk in the world.

Buck winced, eyebrows seeming to ask 'really?' and 'what do you mean?' all at the same time and then shrugging again.

"Taylor?" He asked simply, biding time probably.

"Yeah," Eddie assured, the hum of the emergency light their only company as he waited for Buck to reply.

"She's the only one who really wants me," he said, but the tone of his voice wasn't right. Unconvinced. The admission to easily offered to ring true.

Eddie can't stop the snort of disbelief from escaping him. From all that he's heard about the rust-haired reporter... He couldn't imagine what Buck saw in her. He'd seen the effect of her words on him, saw Buck fall in line behind her with a bowed head, saw how the hurt now flared in Buck's face at his open faced challenge to that statement.

A part of Eddie wanted to grab Buck by the face and scream at him, can't you see?!

You're wanted whole-heartedly by me.

But Buck wasn't his to love yet, not really.

"Look, I don't know what you see on the outside but... She wants me. She chose me and I- what more could I ask for, you know? I'm... I'm working on it. On myself. And for now- this is it," Buck said, rattling it down like he was trying to work it into a checklist.

Eddie just wanted to know what 'it' was supposed to mean. But he nodded, because in a way it did make sense. The same way Ana had made sense, even though she absolutely didn't and he was glad that was over and he could laugh over that foolish affair now.

People had questioned his change of heart when he broke up with her during recovery, but when they'd realized he truly wasn't heartbroken and backsliding, they had taken it in full stride. A little misstep, no great scars taken (well except for the new bullet hole in his shoulder but that didn't really have anything to do with Ana, it just happened to be a part of the same journey heading toward a joined destination) and here they were at a pit stop.

The silence simmered between them, just somewhere right before the cliff, staggering before the precipice toward their comfort zone. It had always taken a little leap from both sides to get them to where they were today. Buck usually happens to fall into his without thinking much, just because he was ready to throw himself in dangers way or alternatively, rushing in out of sense of duty, and making it seem so, so very easy. The way he had walked into Eddie's house and kitchen, stepped right into his space and said: 'i'm here and I'm owning my mistakes because you're worth it' or something of the sort. All Eddie remembered was the care and the genuine emotion he'd felt and... The realization that he'd finally found home.

"It just feels like... You smile less when it comes to her." Eddie still did't really want to say her name. He wasn't about to go out blaming Taylor for all the times Buck was sad- it was just an observation. It took a lot to get Buck to giving up his smile. He hated that Taylor accepted a watered down version of him; bright, bold, and boasting Buck.

"Do I?" Buck asked, a furrowed crease appearing between his eyebrows, truly confused.

Eddie nodded.

"Relationships are always a compromise," Buck offered with a half-hearted twitch of his shoulder. "You know me. We're both pretty stubborn. We butt heads."

Buck flicked his wrist for a useless gaze at his watch. It made them none the wiser about the state of their rescue.

"Yeah, I know you," Eddie retorted gently. "Though, you do tend to have a point."

He could come up with a million examples. Eager, always ready to show up and make it work, Buck. How many times had he burrowed himself into Eddie's skin already with truths that stuck like thorns until Eddie accepted them into his bones.

All he wanted was to return the favor

The man granted him a small, crooked smile. It was crazy how much so little could mean to one person. Desperate, wounded, isolated Buck.

How Eddie wanted to tell him explicitly 'dont do what I did, kid, don't fall back into and habits at first chance just because you don't think you're worth anything else'- there were reasons why it didn't work in the first place. He'd learned the exact same lesson with Shannon. And God, the way Eddie had dragged Buck with him back then, for safety, as he had ranted to him and searched for the answers, only to make the same damn mistake.

That wasn't his life.

And Taylor wasn't Buck's. And Eddie knew this.

Knew from what Buck had told about her the first time she had been around, and from all that Eddie had heard about Buck's relationship to sex. It had turned into a joke at the station, oh, Buck and his self-diagnosed sex addiction, but Eddie recognized that worried little steeple on Bobby's forehead when he reminded everyone that that one therapist wasn't licensed to work for them anymore. But it went way deeper, didn't it?

Eddie knew about self-destructive behaviors. Not intimately. But he'd learned a lot about PTSD lately and adjacent behaviors. Buck and sex was a self-destructive bomb if he'd ever seen one.

And it was no coincidence that Taylor and Buck's relationship centered around physical intimacy.

Buck showed up where he was wanted or needed. They all knew that.

"Just... Make sure you get what you want too," Eddie said. "Put yourself first."

Cue the bewildered, insecure facial expression. Now and then Eddie wished he could hide Buck from the world. Shield him. For now all he could do was stand by.

"Because you'll always be wanted. Make sure the reasons are right for you. It has to be good for you."

And Eddie wouldn't be leaning so far out the window if Buck were to look him in the eyes and say 'nah it's not like that' but all he did was get quiet. Eddie couldn't leave him sitting like that, rearranging himself to stretch his legs out before they fell asleep and casually leaning his shoulder against Buck's.

"You're a good guy, Buck. You deserve only the best.

If you wanted Buck to hear you sometimes you had to get straight to the point.

Maybe one day Eddie could conquer his fear and say what he really wanted to say.

When they were both ready.