#and confronting continued existence when all you want to do is escape

[bird-inacage]

Love Sea Episode 10 | The Fight (Micro-expressions + Mini Meta)

Peat and Fort did brilliantly in this scene. I wanted to pick out some of their micro-expressions to analyse in more detail.

1 - Just after Mut tells Rak he loves him, he's visibly taken aback, he looks crushed and frantic and helpless - 'Why did you have to get your feelings into the open? Why couldn't we have continued to play house without me having to confront my feelings? Why?' Rak is confused and crestfallen as to why Mut has chosen to shatter the bubble they've been existing in. Why is this necessary?

2 - Mut can't help his frustration. He's decided to put all his cards out on the table, and still Rak is choosing avoidance, to deny, to hide, to escape. Mut's played along until now, but he's so sick and tired of it. His attempts to be fully transparent, always lead to a rebuttal, Rak's unwillingness to concede, to compromise. Mut's anger comes from a place of 'you leave me no choice'.

3 - You can hear the gears grinding in Rak's brain when Mut reiterates that he was never after the money. His mind is going into overdrive. He's questioning. He's thinking 'but this isn't possible'. Despite being aware of Mut feelings, he can't face them because it forces him to recognise his own. And he just can't, he's scared shitless and he just doesn't know how.

4 - Just after Mut says 'let me love you', you can see the intensity of compassion and concern flit across his face. He softens. His eyes are searching, wanting. He so badly needs Rak to open up to him fully. There's hope and vulnerability - 'please accept my love, please. I'm trying so hard, I'm trying. Give me something, anything.'

5 - Rak is fighting with himself. He's conflicted, guilty, torn that he's been put on the spot against his will. He's dealing with the realisation that he will hurt Mut, and he doesn't have the stomach for it. You can see the second he decides to muster up the courage, decides to do the cruel but necessary thing. In this moment, Rak's fight or flight response is telling him to choose himself, which means he has to hurt Mut instead. It's the only way. 'You forced my hand'.

6 - Mut doesn't often exhibit outbursts of hurt but he does here. He's incensed. Rak's callousness is insult to injury. 'Perhaps you were never capable of loving me, but don't throw my love for you back in my face'. I think Mut is also making a last ditch effort to emphasise that he's not going to change his mind. Once his feelings are out there, that's it. Regardless of whether Rak loves him back or not, it doesn't change how he feels. This is the power of his conviction.

7 - This is super subtle, but you see the light diminish from Rak's eyes. He almost goes lifeless from the inside out. He deflates. Any active turmoil that was there is now replaced by resignation, by acceptance. It's sinking in what he's done and the realisation there's no going back and he has to make peace with it.

8 - Mut's final retort is painfully self-deprecating, that little chin tilt of 'How foolish I was to think I could have nice things. You've just proved to me once again how asking for things only indicates how wildly undeserving I am. I know my place, and that's where I'll return to'.

[solitary-traveler]

A Wanderer's Prayer

It was like staring at a mirror and confronting a version of himself that he detested with every fiber of his being. In other words, he sees his past in you and wishes he could help.

Wanderer x Gn!Reader

Notes: Hiii, so this is inspired by a video I saw on tiktok by @dellabelle99. It had me sobbing for like 5 minutes. I swear I want to give him a hug so badly-

Art: @Coco_nikio (X)

Warning: Angst? (again yes), let's use all collectively give him a hug

Blue.

The sky was dark blue.

Settled on the ground, the tall patch of grass served as a mattress for the tired Wanderer. The days filled with deafening noises and taxing chores blur into a hazy memory, whisked away by the remaining orange glows of sunlight. He rests his eyes as the veil of silence nestles against him once more. Nightfall never failed to seclude him from everything inconvenient, in the best way possible. 

When he opened his eyes, the flickering gleam streamed onto his face, as a faint evocation pulsated through his thoughts. 

“The moon is beautiful isn't it?”

He recalled your words from a previous night, a night that continuously haunts him. The moon had cast a soft glimmer on your face, uplifting your features and framing that cheeky grin you have plastered on your annoying face. It was almost ridiculous how all he could do was stare and swallow the lump of words he’d been itching to say. In spite of the whirling chaos in his chest, he could only mutter a soft “I know”. 

“Just like you.”

He sighed, shaking his head. Nothing good comes out of reminiscing about that event. Just thinking about it made his cheeks flush. An utterly, absurd reaction. Maybe there’s a malfunction somewhere in his system?

A green pulse of light darted across his vision, eyes widening as his attention snapped to it. Much to his surprise, a dendro crystafly perched on his indigo hair. He raises a hand to wave it away, but your saccharine voice tugged on his wrists like a pair of handcuffs.

“I feel like my skin is on fire”

Wanderer paused. He caught a glimpse of the glowing rock above him for the second time, adorned by a tiny flitter of lights that washed the area with a green flicker, before a set of images burned across his mind. 

A crystafly had landed on you before too. The luster reflection of the moon strikes your face with such delicacy—the fluttering wings akin to a blooming flower tucked behind your ear—yet your features showed disagreement. The glint illuminated a new set of marks on your pale skin and the heavy bags under your pretty eyes. You looked pathetic.

“I wish I’d never been born at all”

He dislikes how his stomach lurched at your words. It was like staring at a mirror and confronting a version of himself that he detested with every fiber of his being. The tightness of his chest loitered, an impending reminder of the past etched in stone, unperturbed for all eternity.

He longed to smash that visage and pummel it until even ashes were forced out of existence. He wanted to break you, the shadow who’s lagging behind him and striding down his path. To impale every shred of innocence you have left back to your pounding heart.

But how could he offer you any assistance when he could not liberate his own from the repulsive tethers that bite onto his skin and refuse to let go?

A frustrated yelp escaped from his  throat. It was fucking annoying. The reality of his helplessness was slowly sinking in. Was that it? Was there nothing else he could do?

Drenched in desperation, Wanderer exhales to still till his raging thoughts. “To any god that can hear me,” he whispered, his gaze falling on the blatant light that blinked from the black canvas above. “Please offer them your protection.”

His eyes closed. What was he even doing? Praying to the gods as if they’ll fulfill such a foolish request?

“I can’t always spend every waking hour by their side. I can’t always save them if they need help” 

He saw himself dressed in a white kimono, running around the sandy beaches of Yashiori Island. He sees Niwa trailing behind him, out of breath as he catches up with the eccentric wanderer, holding a purple veil in hand. 

He was following him again.

“No matter what happens…”

“May they never lose,” his voice cracked. “May they never falter”

At that moment, his chest blazed with a crushing weight. Why did these words hurt so much?

“No matter how many times they cry.”

“You promised me we could be family!”

“No matter how many times they fall.”

“No! Anything but the gnosis!”

“May they have the strength to stand again.”

So that’s how it is. 

“May all the people he meets be kind and warm.”

“If all I wanted to do was use you, then I’d be no different from The Doctor.”

“I hear he has some pretty interesting ideas… Gotta have a chat with him sometime!” 

“Please protect them.”

He blinked. He gets it now. His prayer mirrored the words he’d been dying to hear. 

A prayer from one broken person to another.

[doccywhomst]

okay so i understand that daleks are one of the main brand icons of doctor who, and that they represent a certain breed of fascist thought that can never be fully stamped out, but. :/

i think im ready for the daleks to die.

daleks have been central to doctor who from the very beginning (the second ever episode, the daleks, and season 2’s the dalek invasion of earth), embodying fear, hate, imperialism, and the darker sides of our own nature - but it seems that, for a while now, their continued existence has been maintained solely by the doctor’s mercy and/or ineptitude ??? which sucks as a theme imo

a great example is remembrance of the daleks, a seventh doctor story from 1988 - yes, the one where the doctor blows up skaro. or, davros fires a device the doctor boobytrapped at skaro’s sun, which goes supernova and destroys every dalek in that region of space. it’s pretty baller. anyway! davros and a few daleks hop in an escape pod and fuck off, and the doctor just lets them. k.

(skaro’s destruction was later ‘corrected’ by widely-detested EDA author john peel in war of the daleks, which is unhyperbolically the worst book i’ve ever read, and thus disregarded! but this heretical text explains that the planet was a decoy named antalin. it’s awful yeah. i tried to warn you)

exhibit b: evolution of the daleks (2007). ten confronts dalek caan, the sole survivor of the cult of skaro, at the top of the empire state building. the daleks have just created and annihilated a slave race of pig people, and it’s horrible to watch. you get the feeling that they’ve done this millions of times all across the universe, because they canonically have. they are inherently imperialist, racist, and genocidal. the doctor knows this.

and the doctor’s response is basically “killing you would mean that I commit genocide, so let’s just hang out and have a conversation.”

dalek caan gets away.

and you’ll never guess where he goes. that’s right! he hops the time lock and grabs davros, who escaped in remembrance of the daleks!!! and they make a bunch of new dalek babies together, out of davros’ gross old flesh. it’s a tentacle fest.

so he was right. killing dalek caan would’ve been a genocide- but because he didn’t, now there are ten thousand genocides. a clear improvement!

exhibit d: victory of the daleks (2010).

after a couple of false starts, the daleks manage to make more daleks after tricking the doctor into confirming their species to open their own device (??? okay sure)- but then they trick him again with a robot scientist bomb that he failed to detect even after talking to the guy, and it’s just like…. fool the doctor once, shame on you, fool them twice? damn, you must be on the merch.

exhibit e: the witch’s familiar (2015).

the iconic ‘only other chair on skaro’ scene where twelve and davros chat on the rebuilt dalek home world - super fun, so fun i forgot how the doctor folded like a house of cards. davros, the genocidal maniac, wants to live another day to see a pretty sunrise, so the doctor *checks notes* gives him some artron energy? that can’t be right, wh- oh- oh, but it’s fine because it affects all daleks, and through some contrived science magic, they all ‘learn the concept of mercy.’ on accident.

and it changed nothing. later stories retcon this. i’m too tired to even think about resolution, revolution, or eve of the daleks right now, but those episodes only further cemented my malaise regarding the doctor’s apparent complacency.

again and again, the daleks depend on the doctor’s mercy, and they get it, and they WIN- and it feels like the moral is that they should be eliminated like an unthinking, unfeeling virus, but the doctor is just too compassionate or inept for the job. certainly not the first doctor to lose to a virus, but perhaps the first to do so willingly.

beyond a loss in revenue, i can’t imagine why the doctor couldn’t destroy the daleks, or why they wouldn’t want to - there was a point when, allegedly, “the time lord’s continuity could not survive without the daleks” (“neverland” audio), but i think the weight and relevance of that harry potter type threat has long since passed.

so… it might be time to put the daleks away, for now. sure, they can come back as a concession to the persistence of fascist ideology, but watching the doctor lose or win to fascism for seemingly arbitrary (always sentimental) reasons isn’t really satisfying. the show addresses that daleks cause untold suffering, but again and again the only obstacle to no suffering is the doctor, who can’t get their shit together! it’s killing me.

[safety-writes-noms]

Did someone say continuing hyper fixation with Spider-Verse?

You just like me fr. :')

Haha, anyway, here's a thought - do you think borrowers exist in 2099?

How would you imagine an encounter between Miguel and a borrower would go, either in his apartment or in his lab? Perhaps he's tired after a long day at Spider Society and just noms the borrower without asking questions - he'll interrogate them in the morning (maybe he'll feel bad once he wakes up and they're a terrified mess trembling in his gut).

~We love a bit of fearplay followed by comforting reassurance. :D ~

18+ ACCOUNTS AND MDNI PLEASE DNI!! I AM A MINOR!! yesyesyesyes omg imagine being a borrower in 2099

(I didn’t mean to write a whole little fic thing Jesus)

i don't think he's really at his apartment all that often (I'm going off of his original comics leading to atsv) since he's constantly trying to keep the multiverse together so to a desperate borrower, it must be a relief to find a seemingly deserted apartment with electricity and all working components.

and it's massive!! there are a bunch of nooks and crannies that any borrower could just make a nice little home in and it's so easy to get food from the seemingly endless supplies of care packages from some guy named Gabriel (who tf is that?) it seems like a heaven for a weary borrower who's braved giant cannibalistic flying men and flyboys who seem to enjoy stomping out your kind cruelly.

of course there's always a catch. you're sitting on the table when the lights suddenly turn on and a low voice rasps, "Lyla. Lights on, 25% brightness."

A massive figure stumbles through the window in the bathroom. Now, humans and other kind are usually large but this person? absolutely massive. they have to at least tower over any normal human. you freeze in place, blood turning to lead in your veins. Oh gods. You're exposed, terribly exposed. there's no way to get down from the table quickly unless you want to shatter all the bones in your legs.

The person -- seemingly male, blinks at you tiredly. shadows stretch deep beneath his eyes and he's in a sort of suit, a blue-ish black, embellished with angry red that leers at you in the form of a skull. you've seen it before in the snippets of newspaper you've scrounged up from the trash and the glimpses from the holospheres around the city low to the ground. Spiderman, reborn. Spiderman, back from the dead, futuristic and without qualms of killing unlike his predecessor.

Oh no. you've made a home for yourself in Spiderman's apartment. or worse, a Spiderite. But going off of how high-tech that suit is and how accurate it is, this guy is either the genuine article or a very devoted Spiderite. either way, you're doomed.

The man just stares at you for a moment, dropping off his bag and crawling in from the bathroom window he opened from the outside. definitely the real thing. He sighs and trudges over with an exhausted glare. oh, he looks pissed. super pissed.

you tryto escape, you really do, diving off the side of the coffee table with a split second thought. unfortunately, your home invasion victim also seems incredibly fast and a massive palm curls around your body before you hit the hard ground. it knocks the breath out of you entirely and you open your mouth soundlessly, too shocked and terrified out your mind to plead for mercy, to beg, to cry, to do anything.

it all happens so quickly. one moment you're being held in a warm palm, the next second you're confronted by a fang filled maw, sharp canines on full display as you're unceremoniously stuffed inside.

this time you find it in you to actually scream, fat load of good it does you. the massive tongue (oh gods, oh gods, you're in a mouth) curls around your body, soaking you in saliva, turning you over, squishing you in the fleshy side of a cheek. You're getting kinda dizzy and any protests to this confusingly gentle treatment are silenced pretty efficiently. While you're glad you're not being crushed to a broken mess by those horrifying teeth, you're still so, so scared.

Then everything pauses and you breathe, laying on the warm ground. you know ifs not actually ground, but if you dwell on this any more you're gonna give yourself a panic attack. then everything shifts and you're sliding downwards to your horror. please, you find yourself praying, don't let me die like this. Oh, whatever up there, whatever exists. don't let me die like this.

and on par with your usual luck, whatever up there just cackles in your face and you manage a small, hiccuping cry as you're squeezed down a tight, undulating tube. it's awfully warm and slick and with a loud gllk, you're sealed away. you squeeze your eyes shut and pretend that the warmth sliding down your face is just saliva and not tears.

It might take forever. It might take a second. You retreat into the foggy recession of your mind for a little bit until you register sliding somewhere more spacious. This is when it really sets in. You’re stuck. You’re going to die. In this soft, cushy place thrumming with warmth and gentle tightening squeezes, all you can think about is the fact that you are somewhere inside another person, you’re stuck, and there’s no getting out.

Hopelessness swamps over you immediately and you tuck yourself into whatever corner you can find in this ever shifting, curling, living space. You don’t want to think about the fact that you’re in a stomach. Or anywhere really. You can’t do anything. Maybe, if you close your eyes, it’ll be over soon. Faintly, you register the fact that you’re shaking like a leaf. Trembling.

but all you can feel is utter despair. Is it too much to ask for a home? Are you simply not born for happiness? It seems your luck has run out. Too bad there won’t be a next time to try again.

—

Okay. Maybe Lady Luck hasn’t forsaken you entirely, yet. You wake up (miraculously!) and though you find yourself still inside your captor’s stomach, you’re in one piece. It’s a slow, screeching, clawing way to full wakefulness because you feel so sleepy — something that’s immediately shattered to pieces once you hear a low, grumbly voice of the giant that’s sentenced you to a slow, painful death.

“You awake?” The walls around you contract a little as he seemingly pats his stomach lightly. You’re too petrified (and furious) to respond. Awake? What is this human playing at? Oh gods. You desperately pray that this one isn’t hoping to play around with you before killing you. “Come on, I can feel you moving in there.”

moving? More like shaking. But you don’t see a point to keeping silent much longer since he already knows you’re not asleep.

“What more do you want from me?!” You yell, and your words crack in the middle, splintering into stifled sobs. Maybe you lied, before. Warm wetness spills down your cheeks and you wipe away your tears with a soaked sleeve, sniffling pathetically. You think it’s warranted, at this point. There’s no one to make fun of you now (except the giant.) “Isn’t it bad enough that you’re gonna kill me slowly? Painfully?”

the reminder of it all just creates more fresh tears. This isn’t fair. All you wanted was a home. Somewhere that was safe. You suck in a breath through your teeth, burying your face in your knees. It does no good. You can still feel the muscles of the stomach beneath your feet.

There’s a thick silence for a moment, broken only by your stuttering cries.

“Shocking hell. I’m not — I’m not gonna kill you. I’m not gonna hurt you.” This time, the human sounds distinctly guilty. “God. No, no no. Shit.” He groans, and you sniffle. He should feel bad, you think viciously. Then your brain catches up with the rest of what he actually said, and then blue screens.

“What do you mean you’re not gonna kill me? You ate me!” You shriek, almost hysterical. The human sucks in a breath through his teeth, just barely audible from the gurgling ambiance and beat of his heart, somewhere inside the body.

“I… did do that, yeah,” he agrees slowly. “But you’re safe. I swear it. Look, I’m sorry. Don’t worry, you’re not gonna be hurt in any way, shape or form. My body is uh, weird like that.” The walls around you squeeze comfortingly, almost like a hug. To your immense dislike and surprise, it makes you feel just the slightest bit better. Gods.

“Then — why did you eat me in the first place?” You hiccup and the man sighs.

“I was. Tired.” He admits bitterly like he’s disappointed in himself for that. “I can fully own up on this — I really wasn’t thinking. I’ve got these instincts and — shock, these sound like excuses. What I’m trying to say is, it was a mistake on my part and I’m sorry. You’re safe. I’m just wondering what you were doing in my house..”

You don’t know what to make of his explanation so you just decide to keep it going. If he’s telling the truth, then you will personally make a shrine to Spider-Man like a full on Spiderite. Maybe.

“I was — I needed a place to live. My old one was demolished by some flyboys. I’m — im sorry. I didn’t know this place wasn’t abandoned. I just — I just wanted a place to call home.” You’re crying now, for real. You’re not ashamed to admit it.

The man sighs again.

“Shh. S’okay. You’re fine. You’re going to be okay. I’m gonna let you out in a bit, alright? I was wondering why Lyla kept tripping the sensor for mice… guess I got my answer.” He mutters that last part to himself and you blink at his rueful tone. This human is achingly gentle, or at least, from what you can tell. You’re hoping against hope he’s telling the truth… but he tried to comfort you. And to your disdain and slowed tears, it actually works. Damn him and his dumb deep grumbly voice. It vibrates through his body lightly, but you can feel it. “Don’t cry, I got you. We can talk more once you’re out, okay? My name’s Miguel. You’re okay.”

and because you’re that dumb, and that hopeful, you believe him. After all, Spider-Man has historically been for the people.

[becausesomething]

A cold heart cannot be warmed (Law x Reader)

Sinopse:

After the worst generation has conquered the long-awaited new era, the long-awaited future arrives for everyone. Where dreams can finally be realized and lived. However, there are hearts that are stuck in the cold of the past, which not even the warmest love is capable of melting.

WC: 2K

Relationship established between Law and Reader. It unfolds after the new era has been conquered and established.

"You can leave it, I'll finish cleaning the kitchen", I take the cloth that Sachi had in his hand and continue what he was doing. However, both he and Penguin didn't like leaving things half done so they finish what they were doing, leaving only the tables to clean.

"I'll take the food to the captain, he forgot again" Penguin was starting to place some plates of onigri leftovers on a tray. I let out a loud sigh "If he's hungry he'll show up, it's not like we're still in a fight against time, he might as well remember that his crew still exists...", unfortunately the words end up coming out in a slightly more aggressive tone than I liked. "Calm down, we know how he is, he just gets lost in his own world", he continues what he was doing but Sachi stops him, and then comes to meet me and puts his hand on my shoulder "Tomorrow we will arrive in Lvneel, we will be on land will bring good things" I grab his hand and look towards them both, in the vague hope of finding some comfort from the loneliness I felt, before returning to focus on what I was doing "How many times have I heard broken promises... I could understand when we had the objectives until the new era arrived, and after a lot of effort and struggles we manage to see this new world". I feel their eyes on me and that feeling that once again caused unnecessary concern, "Sorry, I'm just tired, and you know how I get when I spend too much time inside the polar tang. Go and rest, when I finish this I'll take you him what you prepared Penguin". In unison, they say see you tomorrow and don't forget to rest, and leave that space, lefting me alone. I sit down heavily in my chair, slump onto the table, and let out the sounds of frustration.

It has been 2 years since the crew was almost annihilated in the confrontation with Blackbeard, if it wasn't for everyone's quick action and teamwork to save Law and escape. After a few months, we met the Straw Hats again and a new alliance was formed to defeat him. 1 year ago, Luffy became the pirate king and we lost the race to find the one piece. However, no one could be sad because that person was the breath of hope that the world needed. And in a matter of weeks more changes began to happen within the crew of the heart pirates.Ikaku discovered she was pregnant, and with Hakugan they decided it was time to settle down, start building a new life, dedicate themselves to their new family and went to live on an island in the South Blue. It was a huge celebration with the birth of that girl, who was going to be a disgrace for her parents, it also meant a farewell that weighed heavily on everyone's hearts. 

This was followed by Uni's unexpected wedding, which was the result of falling in love at first sight, and it all happened so quickly that it left everyone amazed that he would give up everything for love despite knowing that it was always what he secretly believed and wanted. Jean Bart was the last to follow his own path, after being inspired by Usopp's stories and seeing the island of Elbaf with his own eyes.

My relationship with Law matured, and we spent so many nights in the room or on the deck, when we weren't submerged, talking about our own future, all the challenges we went through, after seeing cycle's close and trying to deal with the departure of the companions who were our family. It's something that brought us even closer together and fought readjustment. However, he managed to remain even more distant than before, spending days locked in his office with books and research, looking for the best island that the heart pirates could call their own. I tried my best to bring him to reality and I know that he saw and heard me, until he entered into that cycle again. No matter how much effort, affection and understanding he showed, I felt that it was often in vain and I needed something concrete and solid."Let's find an island and start building our future, maybe our own family, the time has come", those were the words that echoed in my mind, that kept the fire in my heart alive, that kept me fighting for what tomorrow would bring us.But no island was enough. We continued to be pirates in an era of conquering a name that we already had, but with each mission that appeared, it was where he put all his effort into compensating for the emptiness that sometimes weighed on the submarine. We continued to follow our captain with the same passion, but those words changed something in me. I wanted to experience the future that we could only dream of a few years ago, but that now was finally possible.

The sound of a chair being dragged next to me and a warm hug bring me back to reality. His arms wrap around and pull me against him, "You're lost in your world again, what's the reason this time?" I wanted to scream that it was him, but the words were stuck in my throat and an unexpected cry took over. I comfort myself in that hug, in an attempt to stop the tears that are already falling. "Why are you crying, sweetie? Did something happen?", I squeezed him tighter before placing a light kiss on his lips. "I'm here in a wait that never ends, being understanding and like everyone else dealing with the silence that came with their departure. My heart screams for the future you promised but that is never good enough for you", the fingers wipe away my tears, making my body shiver with that touch that I fell in love with, in the same circumstances I found myself in now. "I promise it will be the last island we visit and then I will make a decision", the look was sincere but I could hear the uncertainty in his voice, however it comforted me that he came looking for me and hugged me.I could protest those words, but we would get into an unnecessary conversation again, and I wasn't the only one who knew because it seemed like he was reading me at that moment. "What do you say if we go to the control room and expel Bepo?", he raises his eyebrow, that malicious smile appears, my weak point where I wasn't able to maintain my position.

That person to whom I gave my heart and who showed and helped me reach my potential as a crew member and wife of the death surgeon, was now in front of me arguing with Bepo. He explained it in the simplest way and without going into details to leave us alone, but you could see the veins of the little patience he had, and no matter how much time they shared, he wanted to maintain his friend's innocence. "Bepo, we want the space because we're going to make love with that magnificent view", the pale skin turns red and the hands quickly hide the features in the cap, while Bepo just puts his paws on his face happily and smiles to leave the space, but before saying some of his aye-captain to Law, leaving him now even more frustrated. "tsc, can't you be less direct?!", I grab his hand and pull him towards me, like the first day I met him I kept getting lost in those grey eyes "You know I don't, besides it's not that the reason we came here and you asked to leave us alone?" He returns the attack and grabs my waist "I need you!", his lips close to mine with a determination to only let go again to breathe as needed.

We had spent the last four days on the island, and I honestly felt like this place had always been my home. The characteristics of the island, the climate, the different cities reminded me of the island where I was born. The residents welcomed us from the moment we set foot on land, which only increased that feeling. Our name lived up to us and with those smiles, I knew that our legacy would go continue in history.

I was returning from the city along the paths laid out in the forest when in seconds I found myself on the deck of the Polar Tang thanks to his room "What took you so long? We have to leave in a few hours" I place my hand on his face and intertwine our fingers with the other "I need you, but I am no longer able to postpone a future that you don't want to come... For me, it has arrived and we are anchored in it. Law, I love you, and I know you love me too. In all the conversations about the future, I really wanted to believe that it was what we both wanted, but your actions say otherwise. Nothing will ever be enough because deep down you don't want to be stuck in one place or really build a family with me, because you're afraid that everything will disappear in a matter of hours and you'll be alone", shock takes over his features but I feel him squeezing his fingers and that confirms the words. "It's okay, I understand. Facing change is anything but easy, however, our friends who we consider family are choosing their own path, as they were always supposed to. I will never forget...", "No, it's not okay! Don't even think about finishing that sentence... I just need more time to consider, find a place for all of us", "This choice isn't up to you, it's up to each one of us" I hug him and give him time until he separates us.

"I need to experience the reality that you have always told me about, both in the past and in the future. My decision has been made", I held back the tears with all the strength I had left. Obviously I didn't want our story to end there, but I also couldn't stand being aimless and what I wanted not to be taken seriously."Don't leave me. It's true, I'm afraid and I'm terrified every time we stop on an island because of what happened now. You are my strength, and the one who always made me look forward. Please...", he grabs my wrist and forces me to look at him, which makes me can't take it anymore and my body gives in to the emotion "I have to think about myself. You're here, but loneliness has also started to take part when you go in search of excuses that only exist in your head. I can't stand feeling this way and having to hold on to the moments when you remember that I exist" I try to let go and calm the crying that made me feel like the worst person in the world. "This is hard enough, but I've always been honest with you", "Is this really what you want? Staying here?" In one of his affectionate gestures, he wipes my tears and leaves a heavy kiss on my lips, before hugging me "You are the woman of my life, I really love you for the person you are".

Promises that he would after those words were made but never fulfilled. Days gave into weeks, which became months, and ended up years. The heart pirates continued to exist, being a family that met from time to time, but without their captain who made the choice to isolate himself from the world.

It was Corazon's love that made Law become a death surgeon, it was the passion he experienced with the woman that he thought we would share his life forever, overcome the greatest battles and ghosts of his life. But both were still not enough when it came to facing the fear of a past that had left marks on a heart, which was in a closed safe in the office of a yellow submarine that continued to sail aimlessly.

Find more stories here and here xoxo

english is not my first language, even thought I use it more than my native tongue. I try my best to adapt it 🫣

[bleue-flora]

why do people think cdream was obsessed with ctommy like i read stellos analysis on it and its well written and nice but they fail to take into account that cdream has a persona and 90 percent of the time is not telling the truth

Ummm well many reasons actually. Ones I’ve talked about a bit before, but basically I think it actually comes down to Tommy himself for a few reasons.

a) Firstly, I think because Tommy believes it, it’s hard for us not to believe it. In other words, by watching his stream, being in his head, that perception is ingrained into the lore itself so we are more inclined to believe it, simply because the character we are watching through does. This is true not just for Tommy but other characters as well and it makes sense, we are seeing things for the first time through their eyes - how could it not taint our view? This is also not helped by the fact that Dream leans into Tommy’s expectations. In multiple scenes we see him bring to life Tommy’s world view, giving him and us more inclination to take it at face value. Like Dream becomes who Tommy thinks he is so it makes it really convincing from Tommy’s head to not believe it.

b) Secondly, in many ways Dream is obsessed with Tommy. Sure not in the way Tommy thinks - like him constantly trying to kill him and take his discs and yada yada… but he tears up Tommy’s whole yard for Tommy’s discs, he fights wars for the discs against Tommy, and in some ways that is Tommy obsessing over Dream forcing Dream to engage. The problem I think is not so much that Dream is really obsessed with Tommy but that he’s obsessed with keeping his “big happy family” and Tommy continues to threaten that and be the center of chaos and conflict, there by making him a priority for Dream. And it doesn’t help that Tommy is also the very center of Dream’s hurt, and beginning and end of his downfall.

c) Lastly, and I think probably most notably, I kinda touched upon this already, but because Tommy is obsessed with Dream, he forces Dream to constantly be involved with him, making it look like a focus/obsession/priority when Dream really may be just trying to defend himself, defend his friends, get back his stuff… etc. Dream can’t not be involved with Tommy because just like the finale Tommy inserts himself right at Dream’s throat again.

So is Dream obsessed with Tommy? Or is he obsessed with getting to live his life, something Tommy continues to make impossible?

And yea the fact alone that Spirit, Mars, and Bekerson existed before Tommy and that Dream built a prison but plans on putting Skeppy in a little cage, should be enough to highlight that Dream is talking nonsense in the disc confrontation about Tommy being the key and him needing Tommy alive and yada yada… like it should be enough to showcase that maybe he isn’t really obsessed with Tommy like he depicts. But perhaps it’s much easier to believe that narrative than the one that Dream is actually a relatively sane person who’s just lying (like he’s accused to be lol - “All you do is lie, Dream…”). It’s a less messy reality then the what ifs and considerations and dissecting needed to find the actual truth. And who doesn’t want to just do the things that are easier?…

[i3utterflyeffect]

Can you explain your time-travel au?

I fell asleep this one time.

And then the au existed. With so much lore. Sounds epic though

claps hands in delight. okay so how do i explain this..........

somehow, (post-showdown+avm, pre-vic) alan gets sent back in time (or as i called it it's more accurately Karmic Multiverse Displacement) and becomes a stick drawn by his past self not long after victim's creation! he's unable to talk unlike SC, and is forced to survive through his previous self's torment! he has powers, but they're much more weak and uncontrolled than Chosen's at the time.

his program name is untitled-3 (3 is a reference to his username, noogai3!) so i call him by untitled! similar rules to nightshade

he tries his best to escape with Chosen and destroy User!Alan's PC, but they both ended up tamed and trapped on the computer. he does his best to free them as soon as possible though! so chosen and he might get out a year or so earlier at most.

Dark is still pretty much the same..... they're made to kill Chosen, spared by Chosen and Untitled, and the three destroy the computer and escape into the outernet.

things are peaceful for a while, but Dark and Chosen are destroying the outernet behind Untitled's back. Chosen decides pretty quickly that they don't want to do this anymore, but Dark kind of just continues to wreak havoc. Untitled finds out about this, and once the two find out about the Virabots, all hell kind of breaks loose, because Untitled is EXTREMELY upset with Dark, and completely freaks out when Dark sends the Virus, because he's completely worried about the CG.

he goes to rescue them immediately with Chosen, and ends up returning and confronting Dark with them. I've thought about it and I kind of like the idea another anon suggested where he brings the pencil for back-up-- but of course, things go badly, and he ends up being incapacitated with Chosen.

this means he's forced to watch not only the CG get killed by Dark, but he also watches Dark die! yes he sees SC's laserbeams, but unlike Chosen he realizes they don't know this when he sees their reaction!

he ends up visiting the CG a lot and spending time with them, even though he's very embarrassed by them idolizing him because he saved them and tells them. to please. uh. not?

his knowledge runs out around here, though! he isn't able to warn Chosen or tell them that SC doesn't know how to use their powers!!

ofc, with the memory reader, victim finds out what happened to him, and decides to use their immediate newfound knowledge and power for evil and also erasing alan from the timeline. they don't know how to do it yet but they WILL

anyway that's the au. it's just 'what if the pain was neverending and the crushing guilt of your actions never faded because you constantly witness its effects'

[hermannsthumb]

Hey hey could you write something about newt confronting his middle school bully a la this post: https://10001gecs.tumblr.com/post/729455540321779712/my-high-school-bully-reached-out-to-me-and-asked

(post) hmm i wonder who sent this in after we talked about it in discord 7 months ago... allusions to non sfw behavior at the end !! (edit also literally seconds after i posted this i realized this ask says middle school and not high school like i wrote. sigh.)

-----------------

“Oh, shit,” Newton says. “Hermann, do you see that guy?”

He’s doing some strange, jerking head motion over the ambiguous vicinity of Hermann’s left shoulder, and it takes Hermann a good few seconds to realize Newton wants him to turn around and look at the fellow in question. He puts down his sandwich with a small sigh: he waited two hours for Newton to wrap up his work so he would have company in the mess hall for lunch, lunch which will continue to evade him, he supposes.

But Newton kicks his shin under the table as he cranes his neck around. “Newton,” he snaps with a startle. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt, but—offended at the mere principle of it—he hits Newton’s own shin back with the end of his cane. Newton is too preoccupied with attempting to hide the entire upper half of his body beneath their table to put up a fuss.

“Don’t be so obvious about it,” he says to Hermann. “Be subtle, subtle. Yeah, perfect.”

There’s no one exceptionally exciting over Hermann’s shoulder when he turns back about painfully slowly, or at the very least no one he can see causing Newton to get as worked up as he is. It’s the usual gaggle of personnel they see wandering about the Shatterdome with them. “Ugly blue shirt,” Newton whispers, “and a stupid beard.”

Hermann spots him after another glance through the food line—a stocky, unassuming man waiting with a tray in his hands, though admittedly Hermann can’t find anything particularly offensive about his shirt or his facial hair, not even by Newton’s standards. “What of him?” Hermann says.

He doesn’t recognize the man, but that’s hardly surprising. There’s been plenty of new faces about the base recently after the latest round of Shatterdomes shuttered their operations and sent their skeleton crews to Hong Kong as a last resort. Hermann expects he might be one of the transferred ranger recruits. He lacks the, ah, soft disposition of Newton and Hermann and their more technologically-inclined ilk, and is certainly built large enough to hold his own in a jaeger.

“I think I know him,” Newton says.

This is not that surprising either. Newton has a curiously long list of ex-partners spread throughout the various networks of the PPDC, partially because the instability of their employment at any given base up until recently (or, indeed, the instability of their expected lifespan) is not conducive to long-term relationships, and partially because Newton’s personality is not conducive to it either. Hermann envies the people who have had the means to escape Newton: he himself has had no such luck. “Another poor soul you’ve scared off?” he says, and takes a bite out of his sandwich more aggressively than he intended.

“Ew, man, gross.” Newton makes a face at him. “No way. He’s a total asshole. He used to make my life hell.”

Hermann swallows his mouthful of sandwich. This admission, on the other hand, is surprising. Newton doesn’t usually make his dislike of people unknown, especially not to Hermann, and Hermann had been under the assumption he was familiar with the full roster of Newton’s ‘enemies’—most of whom are academic rivals of some kind (though certainly none surpass Hermann’s high ranking in that particular category), and all of whom Hermann had Googled obsessively after being made aware of their existence. “Sounds a bit like the whole 'taste of your own medicine' cliche,” Hermann says.

“No, come on, I'm serious, I mean actual hell, just ‘cause I was out about being into dudes,” Newton says. “Whatever bullshit you can think of—stole my shit, made fun of my glasses, pushed me around, called me lots of really creative and exciting slurs. Really original content. He flushed one of my notebooks down a toilet one time and I got in trouble for it. Just—you know, stupid, immature, homophobic jock-vs-nerd bullshit.”

More than slightly alarmed, Hermann shoots another glance over his shoulder. The fellow with the beard has moved ahead in the line and Hermann has a much clearer view of him now. He’s most certainly at least twice Newton’s size, if not larger, and Hermann doesn’t like the idea of him treating Newton in such a physically aggressive manner by any means (to say nothing of the other half of the harassment he received). “When on Earth did that happen?” he says. “The Jaeger Academy? You reported him to—someone, anyone, I hope.” And if not Hermann is more than happy to do so now.

“Oh, no,” Newton says. “It was back when I was in high school for a year. Before I skipped twenty grades, I mean.”

Hermann relaxes his shoulders, which had grown quite tense. “Ah,” he says. As a child he was unfortunately quite familiar with schoolyard bullies himself.

“His name is something stupid, like Chad or Chet or something. Not actually, but you know what I mean. I used to stalk him on Facebook when I was in grad school to make sure his life still sucked shit. He got divorced the same month I got my fourth doctorate. Really poetic. Oh, fuck.”

He ducks back beneath the table. Evidently he isn’t fast enough, because when Hermann turns, Chad-Chet-something is staring intently at the empty space Newton inhabited seconds prior. If the wide-eyed surprise that flashes across his face is any indication, he has recognized Newton in return.

“He’s coming this way,” Hermann says to the rustling somewhere in the vicinity of his ankles. It must be filthy down there. He hears Newton curse, though given the alarming way the entire table wobbles, it may be because he’s just hit his head on something. “Would you like me to make up a lie and say you’ve gone off somewhere? Or I can stall for a bit, and you can—I don’t know—crawl off.”

“Newt?” Newton’s former classmate says.

Newton rises back up slowly, his hair in significant disarray. Hermann fantasizes briefly—not for the first time—about going at it with a comb. “Heyyyyy, man,” Newton says. “What’s up?”

Newton’s classmate had been squinting at him with a small frown, but (to Hermann’s immense surprise) he begins to smile. “It is you, that’s wild! I don’t know if you remember, but we went to school together—like, fifteen, twenty years ago. We were in the same homeroom.”

“Oh, totally,” Newton says. “Bradley?”

“Seth.”

“What’s, uh, what’s brought you to Hong Kong?” Newton says.

Seth looks down pointedly at the empty chair positioned between Newton and Hermann. “Mind if I sit here?” he says, and though neither of them respond, he drops his tray down with a small clatter and follows suit. “I joined on with the PPDC last year, and I was stationed in Seattle up until a couple weeks ago,” he continues, confirming Hermann’s earlier suspicions. “I’m still getting used to everything. I heard there was a Dr. Geiszler working at one of the labs here somewhere, but I had no idea that was you. Did they just throw you over here too?”

Newton has gone a little red in the face, as if he’s bottling up a great deal of shouting, cursing, and possibly crying, and Hermann is somewhat impressed at his restraint in not making a scene. He feels a small surge of protectiveness for Newton (despite everything) and steps in not-very-smoothly to help him. “Newton—Dr. Geiszler I have been stationed here since 2020,” he says. “I’m Dr. Hermann Gottlieb.”

“Hermann’s my lab partner,” Newton manages to say. “We get along really awesomely. We’re, like, pretty close. Seth and I went to high school together, Hermann.”

“Mm,” Hermann sniffs. “So you’ve mentioned.”

He does not bother hiding his disdain, and Seth is astute enough to notice and jump to the logical conclusion of precisely the conversation he’d interrupted: he gives them a small, embarrassed grin, and an exaggerated shrug of his shoulders. “Yeah, I was kind of an asshole back then,” he says, “but you know how teenagers are.” He picks up his tray and stands. “Anyway, I’ll leave you guys alone. We’ll have to catch up later, Newt? Maybe dinner?”

“Totally,” Newton says.

“I should hire someone to kick his ass,” he says to Hermann as they watch Seth find a seat with some fellow rangers—similarly fresh faces, Hermann presumes them to be his crowd from Seattle—across the mess hall. “I bet I could bribe another ranger into it, just go a littttle too hard in on a sparring match. Maybe knock out a few of his teeth. Ugh. Like I’d ever get dinner with that dick.”

“I got dinner with Seth,” Newton announces in the laboratory a week later.

“I wondered where you were last night,” Hermann says, feigning disinterest as he squints at his computer screen. In truth he’s rather peeved at Newton over it; they’ve had a long-standing arrangement as dinner companions for several years at this point, and he’d waited for Newton at their table in the back of the mess hall for an hour before he finally realized he was being stood up and stormed off to his quarters. He’d debated tossing out the extra chocolate pudding cup he had stolen as dessert for Newton but decided to eat it instead, imagining with relish the whole time how upset Newton would be if he found out. It made him feel a little bit better.

“Oh, yeah, sorry I ditched you, I kinda forgot,” Newton says. “I was on my way to the mess and he kinda accosted me out of nowhere and offered to buy me noodles downtown, as an 'apology'. Not gonna turn that down. I made sure to run up a bill. But, dude, you’ll never believe this.”

“Mm,” Hermann says.

He hears Newton made an impatient little shuffling noise behind him. Then Newton is stomping over and grabbing onto the back of Hermann’s desk chair to spin Hermann around to face him. He boxes Hermann in, one hand on each armrest, and (with nowhere else to go) Hermann folds his arms across his chest and scowls up at him. “Fine. Go on.”

“So,” Newton begins gleefully, “it turns out he’s also gay now. Or I guess he always was, which explains the divorce thing, but you know what I mean. He said the reason he treated me like shit was because he was jealous of me for being out, and also because he thought I was infecting him with my gay cooties or whatever since he wanted me soooo bad. What a jerk.” He drops his arms away from Hermann’s chair. “Anyway, we boned.”

Hermann sits up quickly and nearly collides with Newton's abdomen. “What?”

“Eh, don’t worry,” Newton says, “it’s not like I’m into him or anything. I’m gonna hold that grudge forever, sorry, he’s not hot enough to make me forget all that, even if he isn't an asshole anymore. I know what I’m doing. It’s all part of my awesome revenge plan: I’m gonna string him along and then dump him hard after he gets a taste of what it's like to date someone as cool as me.”

Hermann is of two minds: the first is that Newton’s plan is abysmally stupid, and the second, that he can’t help but be relieved that Newton is not earnestly subjecting himself to a relationship with a man whom he’s professed to hate. Loathe as he is to admit it, Newton deserves—Hermann grits his teeth—better. “How exactly do you intend to ‘string him along’?” Hermann says. “And why would you even want to? He hardly seems worth the effort.”

“Number one, by being hot and charming as usual,” Newton says, and rolls his eyes at Hermann’s loud scoff. “Shut up. I’m irresistible. He’s already trying to get me to go out for coffee with him today. Can you believe how clingy he is? So desperate. Ugh. And number two—” He shrugs, and something uncomfortable simmers within Hermann’s chest at the sight of the light blush rising to his cheeks. “I meeean, I don’t know, dude. The hate sex was kinda doing it for me. I guess technically I was the only one doing the hating there, because I’m irresistible, but it was still pretty hot.”

Being treated to details of Newton’s sexual proclivities is not a new experience for Hermann, as Newton seems to think it both constitutes daily small talk in the laboratory when their work gets slow and something Hermann genuinely cares to hear about, but Hermann finds himself bristling at it now. He wasn’t aware such an, er, act, spurned on by hatred, was even a possibility with Newton—that Newton would enjoy it. Could they have been finding more constructive outlets for their mutual dislike throughout all these years? Simply embraced the fiery passion of it all? Certainly Hermann has crafted list after list of increasingly erotic ways he could shut Newton up, but it is the first time he begins to wonder if Newton might not have done the same.

He forcefully turns his chair back around to hide his face from Newton. He is flushing, his skin hot beneath his collar. His computer screen swims in front of him. “That’s lovely to hear,” he says, after far too long of a silence. “I’m glad you—enjoyed yourself. Best of luck with it all.”

“Right,” Newton says, after too long of a silence of his own. “Uh, I’ll be back in an hour-ish.” He adds, mockingly, “We’re getting coffee. I’ll bring you back a muffin and tea or something.”

Once Newton has gone, Hermann drops his head into his hands with a small groan.

[bucksangel]

In a Week | sb!au Finale

Pairing: Ceo!Bucky Barnes x Personal Assistant!Reader

Word Count: 7.8k

Summary: Tough decisions need to be made, and distancing yourself from Bucky seems to be the best thing to do. That doesn’t last long, however, because your love for Bucky - and his for you - can never keep you apart for long.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, soft love-making, Bucky's an idiot but it'll be okay, fluff, a tiny bit of angst, jackie gets bitch slapped, confessions of love

sb!au masterlist | tip jar

a/n: so this is the last part of my Beneath The Milky Twilight series (sugarbaby!au)!! this has been extremely fun to write and I might write a few drabbles for this depending on if y'all want that! pls enjoy :)

Soft, pillowy lips glide across your skin, from your lips down to your neck where they bite down ever so gently. The lips inhale, sucking on the skin for a mere two seconds before releasing, a tongue peeking out to run over the mark to soothe the sting.

Hands, large and warm hold yours, fingers entwined and your arms pinned above your head as the kisses get deeper, the comforting pressure keeping you pinned to whatever you’re laying on. It feels like an endless existence of clouds wrapping around your body.

Wait - no. Bodies.

The weight above you begins to materialize, warm, golden pale skin with divots of defined muscle is all you can see. Wisps of deep brown hair tickle your neck and chin, and there’s a head buried in the crook of your neck, lips continuing their wandering until a hushed ‘i love you’ floats through the air, the hot breath hitting your skin sends shivers down your spine.

As things get more apparent, you recognize that you’re swaying, the hips pressed against yours move in slow, sensual grinds. A feeling of fullness develops deep in your stomach, overwhelming pleasure grows within you, and another whispered ‘i love you’ sends you higher into the clouds. The only thing keeping you tethered to any sort of reality is the person currently taking up space in your body, in your soul.

The head moves from your neck, but not before kissing your jaw one last time. Then, he comes into view.

Bucky. 

He looms over you, soft pants of warm breath hitting your skin, and that’s when you realize you’re nearly out of breath too, whines and whimpers escaping your lips as his hips thrust deeper and deeper, embedding themselves into your soul. His face is tight, a furrow on his brow and lips parted as he stares down into your eyes with what can only be described as desperation. Sorrowful desperation.

Hips thrust against yours at an increasingly fast and powerful pace, and the hands holding yours are clenched tight as more moans - nearly cries - fill the space. The pleasure in your core winds higher and higher, tighter and tighter before one final thrust sends you into ecstasy.

And right before you’re plunged into the abyss, Bucky’s heartbroken voice forces its way through.

‘I love you. And nothing will ever change that.’

With a breathy gasp, your eyes shoot open, soft pants leaving your lips while your heart tries desperately to calm down. Your hands are gripping the sheets below you, and for a moment you’re angry. Angry at yourself both for waking up and ruining the dream, and angry for dreaming about him in the first place. You’ve been trying so hard to sort out your thoughts, talk yourself through the heartbreak to come to rational reasoning after Bucky’s confession. But it’s four days in and you’ve dreamt about him every night since the confrontation, though, granted, most of your dreams and thoughts were centered around his betrayal. Now, though, you really can’t escape the inevitable.

Bucky loves you. You love Bucky.

And if talking to him on Monday showed you anything, it was his remorse. How sorry and defeated he looked, he was in physical pain admitting to what he did. And that alone breaks your heart because you can understand where he’s coming from. As much as you hate to admit it, deep down you know he was only trying to protect you.

After only a little less than a year you’d like to think you can read him pretty well, and while you’re not excusing his actions, this last year has proven to you that he does care, that he does love you. This whole time you’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop, for something to happen to ruin your relationship with him. And, you’ll admit, you were so focused on that to realize that you do deserve happiness. You couldn’t see that Bucky was so invested in your happiness to realize that he was different, he wasn’t going to leave you because you are the one that has his heart.

It’s scary, terrifying really, trusting someone with a part of you that has the potential to be broken only to hope and pray that they don’t. You’ve always had a hard time doing that, trusting anyone other than your brothers, and even now, knowing that the man you’re in love with is also in love with you scares you even more, makes you want to curl in on yourself.

But, seemingly at the perfect time, Ezekiel’s words ring through your ear; “If you love him, then fight for him. Fight for yourself.”

So, you’re going to.

____________

Monday morning comes faster than you’d hoped, you’ve been so focused on what you were going to say that the week passed in the blink of an eye, especially since you hadn’t been at work since that day.

But now you’re here, sitting in your office with files scattered over your table and your laptop on with at least seven tabs open as you fight to catch up with the work you missed out on last week. Part of you is admonishing yourself for taking the week off, one day's workload is barely enough to handle, let alone an entire week's worth. It’s only eleven in the morning and you can already feel a headache coming on. The three cups of coffee you’ve had so far are definitely not helping, nor is the fact that you’ve only had a salad and a protein bar.

Quite frankly, you’re tired of everything. The lack of sleep and proper self-care has taken its toll, and you’re about ready to go off on someone if they hand you one more file that ‘needs to be completed today’ even though the earliest deadline for any of these contracts is next Tuesday. 

But none of that compares to the fact that you’ve barely spoken to Bucky all morning. In fact, you technically haven’t even spoken to him, merely nodding to him in greeting when he arrived at the office. That doesn’t mean that you haven’t looked, though. You’ve sent many glances his way, studying his slumped-over demeanor and fake smile as various employees try to talk to him. And knowing him, he’s probably not listening, those dull eyes give way to an empty mind.

And it hurts to see him so down and defeated. His smile - his genuine smile - always brought you comfort and peace, but this smile? This brings a sourness to your soul. Despite knowing that he’s facing the consequences of his actions, there’s something deep in your heart that wants to give him another chance, to let him redeem himself and give you the love that you deserve.

It’s all too confusing. You’re just fucking tired.

Deciding to get rid of the headache, you stand, grab your purse and phone and head out of your office. With a glance behind you, you manage to catch Bucky’s gaze, his eyes burning holes into yours as though a silent conversation is passing from his mind to yours. But before you can decipher the look in his eyes you turn and walk down the hall toward the elevator, pulling out your phone to look up the nearest cafe.

____________

Surprisingly - or unsurprisingly according to some (most) people - lunch actually helped. Good food and water helped fill your stomach, clear your head, and calm your racing mind. The chill and crisp spring air helped cool your skin for the walk to and from the cafe.

But, lost in thought of the prepared speech you’re going to give your boss, you don’t realize the woman walking towards you in the parking garage. Nor do you recognize her speaking. But that changes the moment she steps into your peripheral, her heels clacking annoyingly on the concrete as she stops in front of you.

And, as much as you hate to admit it, you’re happy to see the woman - Jackie - because you’re finally ready to give her a piece of your mind. Her hands rest on her hips, one hip cocked to the side as she stares at you with malice and disgust, though you’re pretty sure you’re giving her the same look. And the moment she opens her mouth to speak, you cut her off with a smirk.

“Listen, Jackie. I don’t know what I did to deserve your treatment, I don’t know what happened in school that made you hate me so much. But, at this point, I don’t really care anymore. You’ve made me feel worthless, unloveable, and a nuisance for years and I didn’t deserve that. I still don’t deserve it. It took me a long time but I’ve finally realized that I am loveable, that it’s possible for someone to love me and not be swept away by some immature little child that would rather be petty than actually communicate like a fucking adult.”

“Excuse me?” She yells, her eyes going wide in surprise at your tone and your newly-found confidence, always expecting you to stay quiet and push yourself to the side to “let” her have the spotlight.

Not anymore.

“You heard what I said, Jackie. You’ve made me miserable for no reason and I’m putting an end to it, now. You’re going to leave Bucky alone, he’s made it clear to you and to me that he’s not interested and yet you still thought you had a chance. I was foolish enough to think that was true, but it’s not. He loves me, not you.”

Everything is silent for a moment, your confident demeanor never wavering even when faced with Jackie’s petulant and offended attitude. You can see the cogs turning in her brain, her eyes shifting from you to literally anything else as she sighs and slumps forward.

“Listen, it’s jus-”

“No.” You cut her off again, a sharp edge to your words as you try and calm your racing heart. “I don’t want your apologies, I don’t want your excuses, and I most certainly don’t want to see or hear from you ever again. It doesn’t matter what made you decide to act this way, but I’m not entertaining it any longer.”

With a final huff, you push past her, not so subtly knocking your shoulder into hers. And for a moment you think it’s finished, that this is the end of whatever bullshit these past few weeks have put you through. But then Jackie decides to grab your arm. Hard.

She yanks you back and turns you around, nearly causing you to stumble in your heels. In your shock, you’re barely able to steady yourself before your body acts on its own accord. Your right arm raises and swings down, and a loud smack! sounds through the air as Jackie stumbles back.

Your arm is released from her grasp, and for a moment you stand there staring down at your stinging hand, surprised at yourself for the outburst and the fact that you’ve never hit anyone in your life. And honestly? It might be crazy of you but it felt good. But then a loud ‘hey!’ echoes through the parking garage. Turning, you’re met with your boss running towards you with a wild look in his eyes.

“What’s going on?” He huffs, stopping next to you and turning to face you directly. Instinctually, his hand reaches for your arm, ready to soothe the sting her grip created. And for a moment you allow this behavior, too caught up in the whirlwind of events and your racing mind to truly process everything.

“Mr. Barnes, she was -”

“No!” Bucky cuts Jackie off angrily, turning his head ever so slightly to look at her as she fumbles her way to her feet. “I told you not to come here ever again, nothing you can do or say is going to change how I feel, and you need to respect that before I call security to escort you out of here.”

Jackie’s eyes widen in surprise, her face contorted in confusion and disbelief. She starts stuttering her way through a reply but both you and Bucky seem to have the same idea when you turn to walk away—leaving Jackie to stand in the middle of the garage, stupified.

The ride back up to your floor is tense and quiet, standing next to Bucky in the elevator and taking note of the way his fists clench and his jaw ticks, the metal of his arm clicking and whirring - something you know happens when he’s distressed.

And you want to help him, to soothe whatever is plaguing him and make the frustration go away. You don’t, though. Simply, you stare forward, hands folded in front of you as you force yourself to block everything out, to just be and escape from the hecticness of the last few minutes.

Peace doesn’t last long though. Soon you’ve arrived at your floor, and you’re the first to step out of the elevator, albeit timidly. For a moment you’re not sure what to say or what to do. Do you follow Bucky to his office now to explain yourself or do you wait it out, hoping he won’t be as angry with you after he’s had time to calm down?

Bucky decides that for you, walking up next to you, he places his hand on your back, urging you forward. “Come with me,” he mutters, guiding you to his office.

You follow him, fingers fiddling with each other as you walk in and he shuts the door. Everything is quiet which makes the click of the lock echo ominously through the room. You can feel Bucky’s presence behind you, and he then comes into your peripheral before stopping in front of you to lean against his desk.

No one speaks for a long moment, Bucky looking you over while you keep your gaze on the ground by his feet. Then, he sighs, dropping his arms to his side.

“What’s going on?” His voice is soft and concerned, and when you glance up at him you see his eyes, sparkling with an emotion you can’t quite place.

“She was -”

“Not that.” His voice is firm but doesn’t stray from his somber tone. “I saw everything that happened. I’m not mad about that, okay? You stood up for yourself, as you rightfully should have.”

You hold his stare as he pauses, thinking over his words before continuing.

“You haven’t spoken to me since you came in this morning. I understand why you haven’t over the last week, I respect that you need your space. But I-” again, he pauses. “I just want to know what you’re thinking. Even if you don’t want to ever see me again, even if you want to quit and find a new job, I'll respect that. I’ll hate it but I’ll respect whatever you think is best for you. I just need to be put out of my misery, darling. I need to know whether I’ll ever have another chance to prove my love for you.”

Your heart is hurting now, breaking into pieces while simultaneously mending itself back together. Now it’s clear to you, what you said in the garage is true - Bucky loves you. He chose you and kept choosing you even when it seemed like he didn’t. So, making up your mind, you take a deep breath.

“These last months have been amazing, truly. It’s been wild and fun and exciting, and everything I never knew I needed. You showed me love when I thought I didn’t deserve it, you’ve made me happier in ways I never knew I could be. But with all of this going on, it’s been a wake-up call. We can’t carry on with our… arrangement anymore. And I probably should look for a new job.”

Now it’s your turn to pause. Your mind was racing and your heart was thumping so fast it would seem like you were running a marathon. Bucky’s shoulders slump forward, his head hanging as he nods, a sniffle echoing through your mind.

“But that’s because I want more. I… I want us to be together. For real. I want our dates to truly be dates, not ones under the guise of a relationship based on money and arm candy for public appearances.”

Stepping forward, you reach one of your hands out to hold one of Bucky’s while your other hand comes up to lift his head so you can cup his cheek.

“I love you, Bucky. I think I’ve always loved you, I was just too scared to admit it. But I'm saying it now: I. Love. You. You’re one of the most wonderful men I’ve ever met, and I’d be honored to love you openly, the way I’ve been dying to.”

“Really?” He sounds astounded, almost like he wasn’t expecting to hear this confession. The hope filling his eyes translates to the wide smile forming on his face, the hand clutched in yours squeezing tightly as his free arm wraps around your waist timidly. Only when you smile and nod does he tighten his hold on you, pulling your body closer to his and lifting your entwined hands to press kisses on the back of yours.

“Really.”

Both of you stay like that for a moment, simply soaking in the other person’s presence and basking in the glow of love. That is until Bucky’s eyes drop down to your lips, his tongue peeking out of his mouth to lick at his bottom lip. You do the same, glancing quickly down at his plush, pillow-soft lips before curling your own into a soft smile.

“Don’t you dare,” You tease, humor lacing into your tone while placing your forefinger against his lips, effectively stopping their descent onto yours. “I don’t kiss until after the first date.”

Bucky smiles fondly, pressing a kiss to your finger while nodding.

“Well, It’s going to be very difficult to stay away from your lips until this Saturday, but that’s when our date will be. I’m going to wine and dine you. I’m going to show you all the love and adoration I have for you.”

Humming, you bring your hands up to your face to kiss his knuckles.

“And I don’t doubt that you will.”

____________

“Ez stop!” Robbie shouts, his voice carrying through the entire apartment as you see a pillow flying through the air only to be caught by Ezekiel.

“Boys!” Everyone stops, Ezekiel, holding the pillow in the air, mid-throw. Robbie is ducked down behind the couch, and your other brother, Lucas, is sitting at the kitchen island, eating his cereal with headphones in, presumably trying to drown out the chaos your brothers are causing. He’s always been the more quiet one.

“What’s going on?” Standing at the doorway to the living room with your hands crossed over your chest and hip cocked to one side, you sigh deeply, silently begging whatever God is out there to give you just one day of peace.

Your wishes are never answered.

“He broke -”

“I was trying -”

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Everyone stills, your two brothers glancing at each other in panic before remembering what today is. It’s your date with Bucky.

Robbie and Ezekiel jump to their feet, rushing over to the door to fling it open while you yell after them to “be nice!”

Walking through the living room, you pick up the pillows and blankets scattered around the room, carefully avoiding a broken vase. And luckily the layout of your apartment allows you a clear view of the front door from your position next to the couch.

“So, Bucky,” Robbie says in a mildly condescending tone, crossing his arms over his chest. “What are your intentions with our sister?”

“Yeah!” Ez pops up, placing an arm on the doorway, blocking the entryway. “We know what you did to her, entertaining floozies and all that. How do we know we can trust you to treat her right this time?”

“I-”

“Guys, stop!” Lucas appears from behind them, looking very frustrated while you stand behind him, an amused smile on your lips.

“Stop interrogating him.” Ever the sweet one, he walks up to them, grabbing both Robbie’s and Ezekiel’s arms to pull them back. “I don’t really care about what he did, he apologized and she accepted it. And if he hurts her again we’ll just maim him, right?”

“Boys!”

“No, it’s fine, darling,” Bucky chuckles, glancing up at you and winking before turning his attention back to the boys.

“I was a selfish idiot, I know that, and I admit that. I held secrets from her and even though I didn’t know, it hurt her. I regret it, I always will. But I love her, genuinely. And I know it may take some time to gain your trust but I’m willing to do whatever it takes for both you guys and your sister to believe me when I say that she’s the only woman I want, now and forever.”

Everyone goes silent for a moment, tears stinging your eyes at how sincere he is, and how willing he is to admit to his faults to the boys who he knows would actually maim him if he were to hurt you again. It’s sweet.

Finally, Robbie hums, your brothers sharing a look between them before nodding begrudgingly and moving away from the door, giving Bucky an unobstructed view of you. His eyes go wide, eyebrows raising as he takes in your outfit - your nicest pair of jeans matched with a soft sweater he had bought you months ago, and his eyes catch the shimmer of a necklace, one he bought you six months into your arrangement. His smile is so wide you’d think it would hurt to be as happy as Bucky seems to be.

“Wow, darling.” His voice is soft but just loud enough for you to hear. Your face flushes, heat filling your cheeks and neck as you nearly crumble under his gaze.

But your moment is ruined by Lucas fake-gagging, all three of your brothers moving down the hallway back to the living room as they remind you to call us if anything happens, let us know where you’re going so we know where your last location is if you go missing, use protection.

Laughing, you nod along to what they’re saying, knowing full well that they wouldn’t let you leave until you agree to their stipulations. Grabbing your purse, you walk to the front door, reaching for Bucky’s hand as you walk out of the apartment.

But, before you forget, you shout “clean up the glass!” over your shoulder only for the door to shut almost immediately after. Then, you’re standing in the hallway outside your apartment, staring at each other for what should feel like too long, but seems, to you, not long enough. Bucky brings his hand up to cup the back of your neck so he can pull you into him. He places his lips against your forehead in a loving kiss, and he keeps them there as he mumbles “you look beautiful, darling.”

Giggling, you wrap your arms around his waist and lean against his firm body, trusting him not to let you fall.

“So do you, Mister Barnes.”

Bucky brings up one hand to poke your side, causing you to squeal and giggle harder, to which he laughs too.

“Don’t test me, darling. We have places to be.” He moves his lips off of your forehead, allowing you to move your head and look up at the man with a twinkle of humor in your eyes.

“Fine.” You sigh, unwrapping your arms from his waist and stepping back, but not before grabbing one of Bucky’s hands so you can pull him with you. “Time to wine and dine me.”

____________

As it turns out, Bucky’s version of ‘wining and dining’ includes driving into Manhattan to visit a museum. As it turns out, it was The Museum of Modern Art. Bucky is taking you to the one place you’ve always dreamed of going to but never had the time or money to. Viewing beautiful and carefully-crafted artwork has always filled you with awe, and now you’re going to, almost inarguably, the most influential museum in the modern art world.

And, almost unsurprisingly, the entire museum has been rented out for just the two of you, the only occupants are you and Bucky, the tour guides, and security guards. The quiet and calm aura adds to the peaceful moment with Bucky’s arm wrapped around your waist and resting on your hip as you hang onto every word the guide has to say about each piece. And not only is the artwork beautiful, but the architecture and structure of the building are also alluring all on their own.

The tour only takes a few hours, and the guides let you stay and admire each exhibit as long as you wanted thanks to Bucky paying for the museum to be empty for at least five hours - he wanted to make sure you had plenty of time to see everything.

And after the museum, you had assumed the date would be over soon - much to your dismay. But Bucky had other ideas, having apparently planned an all-day event. Because now you’re in the heart of Brooklyn, parked out front of a small, hole-in-the-wall type diner while Bucky’s hand had never left your thigh since you left the museum.

“Now,” Bucky says, unbuckling his seatbelt so he can turn to look at you. “They’re going to be a little overbearing, but they mean well. And I’ll make sure they don’t get too out of hand, so you don’t need to worry about anything.”

Confusion passes over your face. They?

“What are you talking about, Bucky?”

He chuckles and squeezes your thigh before leaning over the console to press a soft kiss to your cheek. Then, without warning, he opens the door and hops out of the car, quickly rounding it so he can open your door and help you out.

“You’ll see, darling.”

And oh boy do you understand why he had to warn you. The moment the both of you stepped into the building an older man behind the counter shouts “Little Jamie!” in a heavy accent - you cannot place where though, maybe eastern European? - enthusiastically. You’re caught off guard by the boom of his voice, but even more, intrigued at the nickname. Little Jamie? You’re not sure where that came from, but you’re filing it away to tease him for it later.

“Sergio, stop.” Bucky groans, though he still guides you to the counter as the man - Sergio, apparently - walks around to gather Bucky in his arms, mumbling something in his ear in a language you don’t quite understand. But Bucky just smiles wide and pats Sergio’s back, pulling away and looking at you.

“Sergio, this is -”

“Your darling!” His voice booms once more as he steps forward to wrap you in a hug as well.

Letting out a surprised ‘oof!’, you glance to your right to look at Bucky with a confused but amused expression as you hug the man back. When he pulls away, he grabs both of your hands, placing overexaggerated kisses on the backs of them.

“We have heard such lovely things about you, darling! Little Jamie will never stop talking about how wonderful and beautiful you are, but he understated just how much.”

Sergio’s eyes twinkle with amusement as he steps back, Bucky “punching” his arm in faux annoyance.

“Will you stop trying to steal my girl?”

Both men laugh, and your body fills with warmth at how welcoming and charming this man is to you, acting as though he knows you and already sees you as his family. A wide smile crosses your face, leaning into Bucky’s side when he wraps an arm around your waist.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Sergio. How do you know Bucky?”

At that, Sergio’s eyes light up, proceeding to ramble about how their families have been friends for decades back before even Bucky was born. Apparently, Sergio is his godfather, and he’d just started to veer into a particularly embarrassing story of the time ‘little Jamie’ was ten and fell flat on his face in front of a girl he liked when a short - but no less energetic - older woman comes rushing out from what you assume to be the kitchen.

Her arms are open wide, and Bucky has barely any time to turn his body before the woman grabs him by his bicep and yanks him into her arms. Bucky grunts in surprise, wrapping his arms around the woman and squeezing her back just as tight with a laugh.

Words start pouring out of her mouth, all in the same foreign language and eastern European accent with the widest grin on her face, her hands coming up to cup Bucky’s cheeks and squish them.

Finally, when the woman’s excitement calms down, she turns to you, her enthusiasm growing.

“Dragă!” She cheers, rushing to you to pull you into a hug as well. “I’m Ana, Jamie’s godmother.”

“Hi, Ana.” The smile is evident in your voice, the turn of events being a complete 180° from just an hour ago. Though this is no less exciting.

“Come!” Ana grabs both of your wrists and leads you to a booth by the window, calling out to Sergio behind her to start making something called a Ciorbă de burtă for ‘the young lovers.’

Once again, Bucky groans, mumbling something that causes Ana to turn her glare to him and push him into one of the booths indignantly. “Stop it, young man,” She scolds him, wagging a finger at him before leading you into the other booth with a loving smile.

Then, she scurries off to the back, walking as fast as her short legs can carry her.

“I’m sorry, darling. I know they’re a lot.” Bucky’s tone is comforting, and though you are a tad overwhelmed, the pure joy on his face when he saw his family makes all of your nerves worth it. The light shining in Bucky’s eyes as he reaches over to take one of your hands in his is one of the most beautiful sights you’ve ever laid your eyes on.

“It’s more than okay, little Jamie.”

Immediately, Bucky groans again, his eyes rolling playfully in faux annoyance.

“Please don’t, just forget you ever heard that.”

You laugh, hand squeezing his as you shake your head in disagreement. “I will not be forgetting that. I’ll be teasing you about it until we’re old and gray.”

Both of you pause, your eyes going slightly wide as you realize what you just said and what it implies. And you’re about to speak up, to assure him that it didn’t mean anything - even though it definitely did. But Bucky beats you to the punch.

“Well, then it’s only fair that I never let you live down the time you laughed so hard at one of my horrible jokes that the water you were drinking shot out of your nose.”

And you can’t really blame him for bringing that up, after all, it was quite funny. Both of you go quiet, though it’s a peaceful silence. Both of you simply gaze into each other’s eyes, getting lost in the love you share.

But it’s interrupted sometime later by Ana returning from the back carrying a tray with two plates and some drinks, a book tucked under her arm. Once she gets to your table, she sets down the plates and drinks and then - very lovingly - scootches you further into the booth so she can sit down next to you.

“Now, dragă, if you’re going to be with my Jamie then it is only right I show you these.” And before Bucky can object, Ana shoots him a stern look, effectively shutting down anything he was about to say. “Eat, Jamie, this is between me and her.”

Hours later, after Ana has shown you every baby photo and told you of all of the trouble he and his friends used to get into, Bucky finally manages to convince Ana and Sergio that you two needed to leave. You don’t leave without several more hugs, however. And both Ana and Sergio kiss your cheek and give you wide smiles as you follow Bucky out of the restaurant.

“So, Jamie, where to next?” Your giggle carries through the evening air, the humorous night coupled with the several glasses of wine Ana insisted you drink finally catching up to you.

Bucky sighs a little dejectedly, helping you towards his SUV and opening the door so he can help you inside. Once you’re sat in your seat facing him, he places his hands on your thighs, rubbing his thumbs in circles over your skin.

“Well, this was all I really had planned, but…” He trails off, looking down quickly before looking back up into your eyes. “I really don’t want tonight to end.”

You sigh thankfully, your smile never faltering as you bring your hands up to run them along Bucky’s forearms.

“Thank god, I don’t want it to end either.”

Bucky hums, eyes squinting playfully. “Well, what do you think about coming back to my house? We can drink some wine, watch some movies, maybe cuddle?” The cheeky grin that crosses his face at his last suggestion makes you roll your eyes, a laugh escaping your lips.

“Okay, Bucky, but no funny business.” You point your finger at him, raising your eyebrow as he chuckles and nods.

“No funny business.” He confirms, leaning down slightly to press a kiss to your forehead before stepping back away from you fully.

____________

As it turns out, the whole ‘no funny business’ rule was thrown out at the second glass of wine Bucky had poured you. Both of you were tipsy, giggling at the stupidity of the supposed spy fumbling his way through getting information on the screen in front of you. Bucky’s arms were wrapped around you completely, your back pressed against his chest and legs stretched out in front of you on the ridiculously comfortable couch.

One of Bucky’s hands is resting on your hip, the other on your stomach that inches lower and lower throughout the evening. At one point in the movie, it turns sensual, the main spy character and the enemy who he’s been chasing the entire movie colliding together in a heap of fiery passion, tearing clothes from each other’s bodies as they become entangled in one another.

At this, Bucky’s hand dips under your shirt, his warm fingers causing a spark of electricity to shoot up your spine and a gasp to escape your lips. His hand runs along your stomach, traveling down to your pelvic bone and then moving upward to rest just below your breasts, his fingers so evidently itching to take hold of one.

“So,” Bucky murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear as his hot breath hits your neck. “Do you think I could have that kiss now?”

A shiver runs down your spine, and you have to consciously force yourself to not whine. Taking a deep breath, you turn your head to look at Bucky through your eyelashes, a playful pout on your lips.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, trying to stifle a giggle. “Do you think you’ve earned it?”

A low growl rumbles through his chest, one you can feel from how you’re pressed against him. Now, your panties have been slowly growing damp throughout the night, and the alcohol mixed with the heated looks thrown your way have gotten to you more than you want to admit. But now it seems you can’t escape it, the dampness turning into nearly a puddle with every centimeter closer he gets to your breasts.

“I think I’ve earned it, and judging by the way your heart is beating so fast I think you agree.” His teeth nip at your ear, waiting patiently for the whimper you let out along with a short nod before delicately placing kisses along your neck.

“You gonna let me love on you?” He mumbles the question into your neck, gently biting down on the skin before releasing it and running his tongue over the area to soothe the sting.

“Y-yes.” You’re already out of breath. It’s been weeks since you’ve had any sort of intimacy, and, quite frankly, you’re desperate. “Yes, please Bucky.”

That’s all he needs to hear, the hand on your hip coming up to turn your head upward so Bucky can press his lips against yours, his other hand cupping your right breast through your bra and massaging the area.

The gasp that spills from your lips allows Bucky the access to poke his tongue out and dip into your mouth, teasing your lips before plunging in. Meanwhile, while you’re distracted, the hand over your bra pulls the cup down, now palming your breast and teasing your nipple with his fingers. This time you let out a whine, your mouth opening further as you melt into Bucky’s body and allow him the room to pleasure you as he sees fit.

“Darling…” Bucky mumbles into your mouth, giving you one final kiss before leaning back and chuckling when you subconsciously chase his lips with yours. The hand previously holding your face travels down your body, and your legs immediately part so Bucky can cup your crotch through your jeans.

“Buck-”

Smack!

It takes a moment before you connect the sting to the noise, your eyes widening and shooting down your body to see Bucky’s hand rubbing the inside of your thigh where he landed the blow. And despite letting out a surprised squeak, the pleasureful pain causes you to shiver.

“No,” Bucky grunts into your neck, his hand moving closer to the waistband of your jeans while his other hand pushes your shirt up to your chest and pulls down the other cup to free your other breast.

“That’s not my name, darling.”

The moan you let out is involuntary, as is the frantic nodding of your head. Arching your back, you push your chest into his hand and grasp the hand fiddling with your jeans to press him closer to your core.

“S-sir, please.”

Bucky groans, hands moving with purpose as he maneuvers your body to take your shirt off, then your bra. His tongue runs along his bottom lip, nearly salivating at his unobstructed view of your breasts. Quickly, he moves out from behind you to lay you down on the couch and hover over your body, gazing into your eyes with a mixture of love and lust. Leaning down, he places a hungry kiss on your lips and then moves to your jaw, placing wet, open-mouthed kisses down your neck to the area between your breasts.

“Sir.”

Your whine makes him glance up, though he continues sucking and biting at your flesh.

“Pl-please, sir. I want..” Huffing frustratedly, you bring your hands up to tug on his shirt. Your brain is foggy already, unable to really form sentences or effectively communicate your desires. And you curse yourself for it, though it’s definitely because you haven’t had any form of intimacy since France.

“What is it, kitten?” His teasing tone makes you huff, but his chilled metal fingers that twist and pull at your nipple are what make you moan. “Do you want me to take off my shirt?”

Nodding frantically, your hands tug harder at his shirt. When Bucky leans back, your eyes widen, missing the sudden loss of heat and pleasure, though it’s placated by seeing his muscles tensing as he tugs his shirt off of his body. Once it’s been thrown off to the side, Bucky leans back down to capture your lips with his. His metal hand cups your right breast once again while his flesh hand travels down your body to your waist, dipping his fingers into the band of your jeans before swiftly unbuttoning them and pulling down the zipper. Your own hands fumble with his pants, struggling to blindly unzip them but only growing more frustrated when Bucky moves your hand away.

“Don’t,” Bucky mumbles against your lips, biting down on your bottom lip and pressing a soothing kiss to it. “Just lay back and let me love you, okay?”

It takes a moment to register his words, but when you do you nod your head, melting back into the couch and staring up at Bucky with half-lidded eyes.

“Yes, sir.”

The groan he lets out sends shivers down your spine and a whine escapes your lips. His hands start working with purpose, standing to remove his pants before kneeling on the couch between your legs. He scoots back, laying on his front and toying with your jeans before pulling them down your legs slowly, revealing inch after beautiful inch of your skin.

Bucky’s lips press small kisses to your hipbones, then to the tops of your thighs when they are revealed. His lips followed his hands, slow yet lingering kisses being placed all over your thighs, then calves, and finally, your ankles before he pulls them off of your body and throws them aside.

Glancing up, one of his hands rests on your hip while his other reaches down to cup himself through his boxers to relieve the ache.

“Can I take off your underwear, darling?”

His voice is low and smooth like honey, floating around you like a warm blanket as you nod lazily.

“Yes, sir.”

Bucky nods, releasing his crotch so he can pull your panties down and off of your legs. His eyes hone in on your crotch as he takes in the slick coating on the inside of your thighs. He groans again, then looks down at your panties that are dampening his hand. Quickly he brings them up to his face, pressing them against his mouth and sucking them into his mouth. Once again he has to grasp the base of his dick to keep it from throbbing, and the loud moan that sounds through the air makes him focus his attention back on you.

As he pulls the fabric out of his mouth, he shoots you a wink before throwing your panties to the side as well. Subconsciously, your legs fall open further, the cold air hitting your soaked pussy causing shivers to run down your body.

“S-sir,” Your whine is almost porn-like. Wanton and open and shameless. “Please, please make love to me.”

Bucky chuckles, though he is no less affected by the pleasure you’re giving each other.

“Of course, kitten.” He leans down, placing himself right in front of your core. His arms wrap around your legs, pulling your body closer to him so his face is mere inches from his own personal heaven. Bucky’s thumbs run down to your pussy lips, massaging them slowly and pulling them open, giving him an unobstructed view of your throbbing hole.

“I’m going to give you everything you need.”

With that, he leans in further, pressing kisses from your clit down to your quivering hole. Then, his tongue dips inside, flicking his tongue teasingly and pressing your hips down onto the couch to prevent you from squirming.

More soft kisses and kitten licks are showered onto your pussy, Bucky’s tongue speeding up as your breathing becomes heavier, your whines turning louder, your body struggling to stay in place as the pleasure winds tighter and tighter, higher and higher.

“S-sir, please!” Then, you let out a loud squeal, your core throbbing in pain due to Bucky’s hand raining down slaps against your clit. “Ah! Ah - oh, please. Yes, yes please, sir!” Your words turn into mindless rambling, your whines and moans unable to be stopped.

With one final kiss to your hole, Bucky leans back to hurriedly take off his boxers so he can lay his body on top of yours.

“Darling,” Bucky mumbles against your lips, one hand coming up to grasp your jaw and force your gaze on him. “Are you sure you want this?”

If you weren’t muddled with pleasure and wine you’d have rolled your eyes. Though you know Bucky wouldn’t do anything you were uncomfortable with, even in the midst of passion you manage to nod.

“Yes, sir.”

Bucky nods, one hand grasping his cock and the other gripping your right leg and placing it over his shoulder. And though he wants this to last longer, he really can’t help the way he sinks into your pussy with one thrust, it feels too good for him to last longer than he probably will.

With a glance up at your pleasure-ridden face, he starts grinding his hips into yours, letting you adjust to his size after not having experienced it for so long. But when you give him a nod, he starts thrusting shallowly, pulling back only an inch or two before sliding back home.

His thrusts quickly become harder and faster, the sounds of your lovemaking echoing through the room as both of you let unhindered moans float around you. Before long, the coil in your core starts building higher and higher, your head throwing itself back as you fumble your way through telling Bucky of your impending orgasm. And already you know this is going to be an intense one, after all, you haven’t had an orgasm in two weeks.

Bucky leans down so he’s in your line of sight, his eyes burning holes into yours, his brows furrowing as he nods. His lips catch yours in a passionate kiss, mumbling “cum, please, darling,” while his thrusts become sloppier.

With his permission, the band in your core snaps, a pleasured scream escaping your lips as Bucky continues fucking you through your orgasm. For a split second, you recognize the warmth flooding the inside of your pussy, but then, everything turns black.

You’re not sure how long it takes for you to come to, but when you do you’re laying in Bucky’s bed, resting on top of his body as he runs his hand up and down your back. Your eyes stay closed, still trying to focus on anything but the ringing in your ears and the soreness between your legs. And then, once you can finally hear again, you catch Bucky’s soft voice mumbling into your hair, presumably assuming you’re still asleep.

“-And I just - god, darling. I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am, how in love with you I am. You’re… you’re everything to me. And I know I don’t deserve your love, but I won’t take it for granted, I swear it.”

The smile that crosses your face is so wide that it hurts, and you nuzzle your face into Bucky’s neck with a small hum.

“I love you too, Bucky.”

And just like that, everything seems right in the world. You know you’ll have to have a few deeper conversations about everything that happened. But you’re willing to do whatever it takes to keep the happiness that Bucky brings you.

tagging: @fandoms-writings @vayollie @bucks-metal-arm19 @southernbe @eclecticpatrolroadlawyer @ilovetaquitosmmmm @banana-man0 @whitewolfstar01 @awkwardalie @flawssy227 @princessdancingonthesunshine @nataliewalker93 @blackwidownat2814 @britishvamps @elbell20-blog @purple-vodka-99 @bport76 @star017 @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @giftedyoungster3000 @xcaptain-winterx @igotmajordaddyissues @perksofbeingabookworm @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @povlvr

[bi-bard]

You Don't Have to Sing it Nice, But, Honey, Sing It Strong - Eleventh Doctor Imagine [Doctor Who]

Title: You Don't Have to Sing it Nice, But, Honey, Sing It Strong

Pairing: Eleventh Doctor X Reader

Based On: To Noise Making [Sing]

Word Count: 1.305 words

Warning(s): grief, mention of major character death

Summary: [Season 7] The Doctor suddenly stopped when he lost Amy and Rory. (Y/n) makes it their goal to get him to move forward and continue the good that he had done.

Author's Note: I talk about this plotline so fucking much and I am so sorry. I just... I have so many thoughts about it and when it came out, I was either not writing yet or my writing was shit, so I'm making up for lost time.

WASTELAND, BABY! - HOZIER WRITING CHALLENGE MASTERLIST

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I took for granted how easy it had been for the Doctor to walk into trouble.

I never realized how hard it could be to search for something that he would think was interesting. Especially when I was confined to one time period on one planet.

After losing Amy and Rory, I did everything in my power to take care of the Doctor.

He cried at first.

I could still vividly see the time spent holding him as tight as I could as he sobbed into my shoulder. There were a few times where his crying would soften but his nails would dig into my back or sides. I thought it was a way for him to remind himself that I was still there. I was real.

There were times when I was convinced the dull marks were still there. A reminder of how long I held him.

I don't remember exactly when the crying stopped.

It felt more sudden than it probably was. All of the sudden, he just stopped. A switch was flipped.

He parked the TARDIS in the skies above London and completely stopped. No helping, no adventures, no running. His curiosity suddenly ended.

I started to split my time.

I would spend half of my time in the TARDIS. I would stay with The Doctor and talk or read or merely rest my head on his shoulder and try to enjoy the admittedly tense company. Granted, it never felt tense on his end. Only mine. It must be my longing for escape.

The other half of my time was spent walking the streets of London, searching for something interesting. Not for me. For the Doctor. I needed something that would spark enough curiosity to get him to just... investigate. I guess.

I needed the Doctor back, and this felt like the best way to do it.

"Wasting your night again?"

I jumped at the sound of a voice behind me. "Vastra. I'm not one of your suspects. You don't need to sneak up on me."

"I'll be sure to make a note of that. Now, would you care to answer my question?"

"I'm not wasting my night. I'm helping the Doctor."

"You and I both know that he has no desire to be helped now. How many times will you break your own heart?"

I closed my eyes and turned away from her, continuing on my way.

She had a point. That was what annoyed me the most. There were too many occasions where I stood in front of the Doctor and told him of something I found only to be dismissed. It had gotten to the point where those conversations didn't consist of any substance. They were just me begging for him to listen to me. To do something.

I just wanted him back. I didn't care if we went back to our normal routine. Just some sign that he was still there would've been enough for me.

"(Y/n)-"

"Forgive me if I feel no need to sit and talk about this anymore," I snapped. "I... I have to help him. I can't just sit and watch him wither away in that stupid box. I can't. I... I am going to help him. You can either assist me in that or leave me be."

I was never one to be confrontational. Especially not with her. But anger and fear and grief all mixing together can lead to many people doing things that they never thought were possible.

"If you have no interest in helping, then stay out of my way."

I refused to believe that this was hopeless. I refused to believe that this was going to be my existence for the rest of time.

I just needed to find something to help fix it.

And then, there was the snow. Alien and new.

And there was Clara. A young woman who stumbled into the same alley as the Doctor and me.

The more I look back at this time, the more tragic the story looks.

She had been that thing I had been looking for. She caught the Doctor's attention. She got him to come down from his blue box in the cloud and help when the world needed it. I remember the countless moments that I made a mental note to thank her later. To thank her for helping him, even if didn't even know that he needed help.

But that hope had a price.

We met the Great Intelligence. A name that still burdened my heart with so much dread that it felt heavier than stone.

Worse than that was the fate of Clara.

Even after defeating the Great Intelligence, for the time being, Clara was still dying. And we couldn't save her.

I knelt next to her as she rested under the device that was meant to be keeping her alive. I grinned at her.

"I wanted to thank you," I said. "I... I thought I'd have more time."

"For what," she asked.

"Doing what I couldn't," I whispered.

A small, amused smile crossed her lips. "The Doctor and his cloud."

I nodded. "Thank you."

I pulled her hand up and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

I stepped back so the Doctor could have a chance to speak with her. They whispered back and forth until her voice stopped.

I saw something change in the Doctor when he heard the last words fall from her lips.

I didn't hear what she said.

All I knew was that the moment she was gone, the Doctor jumped up with this shocked look on his face. He grabbed my arm and pulled me into the TARDIS, which had been conveniently parked in the very room all of us had gathered in.

"What's going on," I asked as he dropped my arm and took off around the console.

"She said something!"

I furrowed my eyebrows. That didn't help much.

"Do you remember the girl from the Dalek asylum?"

I nodded. Another heartbreaking story. We were just too late. She deserved more.

"When I found her, she... she said something. 'Run. Run, you clever boy, and remember.' I didn't think much of it, but then Clara- this Clara said the exact same thing! They're the same girl! Both named Clara, both saying the same words!"

"So, now?"

"I'm going to find her. And figure out exactly why she's jumping around my timeline."

I nodded, still stuck in my spot.

I couldn't help it.

I stopped and watched him as he ran around the console again. It was like seeing a ghost. It had been so long since I got to see the Doctor with a mission. Something had finally caught his attention. That idea brought me a lot of comfort.

"What," he asked, stopping for a moment when he saw me staring.

I shook my head. "Nothing."

"(Y/n)..."

I let out a breath. "It's just... It's nice to see you like this. With something to run for."

The Doctor walked over and cupped the sides of my face. "I'm sorry that it took so long."

I didn't say anything. I had no interest in waving off his apology like it didn't mean anything to me. That wouldn't be fair to him. Instead, I reached up and pressed my hands to his as I smiled at him. A soft grin traced his lips. The silence was enough to show that forgiveness had been offered and accepted.

He wiped away tears that I had no memory of shedding. My brain and heart were a jumble of emotions. Grief and relief. Heavy yet suddenly weightless.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

Through that confusing mess of my feelings and thoughts, one thing stuck out to me as clear as day: it was nice to have him back.

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Navigation Guide

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

[justanotheroutlastfanblog]

The Outlast College AU: the cast

Eddie Gluskin:

Eddie Gluskin (also known as "Ed" or "the groom" in a mocking way) is a failed pre-med student who switched over to fashion design and merchandising and is known for his "retro" style of dress along with his misogynistic behavior. He is a social outcast due to how he acts so despite his good looks and "charming" personality, he seldom ever gets dates or even respect from his other peers (functionally making him an incel). He is "friends" with Frank (although this is mostly just because Frank also happens to live with him) and that is really about it. And despite his bizarre standards for women and beliefs surrounding sexuality: he is dating Val who is the polar opposite of all of what he holds dear.

Frank Manera:

Frank Manera is Eddie's weed-smoking, whisky-drinking, grunge music-loving culinary school dropout roommate. Unlike Eddie, he is a social outcast by choice and actively chooses not to socially engage with other people or things. Frank is probably the most easy-going person you might meet partly due to the fact he is high all the time but also due to his "I really do not give a shit" attitude he has about practically everything. If it is not about his pickup truck, guns, food, weed, or the bands he likes he could care less. Frank is also occasionally seen at Crust-punk bars and other hole-in-the-wall places around MMU despite not being a student.

Val:

Val is a former member of the hyper-religious cult Temple Gate who once held the role of being the "mother" of all of the bastard children of its leader, Knoth, along with the orphans. She was unable to biologically produce children (functionally be a broodmare) so she took on the role of raising them instead. Val escaped the cult when she was 17 and attempted to bring others with her but was unable to. After her escape, she began to hyper-indulge in sex, drugs, body mods, and all of the other things she was never allowed to even talk about while living on the commune. She never got an education and instead opted to continue partying while also taking a job at a Spencers near MMU. She is dating Eddie Gluskin for reasons not fully understood. And despite her new life of freedom and indulgence, she is still on the run from the cult who does periodically attempt to drag her back. She still misses some members of the cult, specifically the children she cared for and wanted to take with her, but also deeply fears being dragged back too much to do anything.

Miles Upshur:

Miles is a journalism student at MMU who also works at the Spencers with Val. He is yet another stoner similar to the likes of Frank only with a significantly more conspiratorial slant. He is best friends with Waylon Park and frequently pulls him into his strange schemes and ventures (like when he goes ghost hunting in abandoned asylums or attempts to prove aliens exist). And much to his friend's horror: he overall lacks a sense of self-preservation and self-control which frequently results in him getting into a lot of dangerous situations.

Waylon Park:

Waylon Park is a computer science major at MMU and the unwitting best friend/accomplice of Miles. He is a lot more timid than his best friend and spends most of his time locked in his apartment streaming video games or working on various coding projects and actively avoids danger/confrontation. He is dating Lisa, a literature major, and is in a pretty steady relationship with her. Due to his more ambiguous appearance, he was mistaken for a woman and thus pursued by Eddie but that was quickly shut down when the truth was revealed and a restraining order was filed.

Rick Trager:

Rick Trager is an extremely shifty business professor teaching at MMU who may or may not be addicted to cocaine. The only reason he has not been fired is due to his tenure at the university.

Jermey Blaire:

Trager's equally as shifty/douchy TA who practically models himself after Patrick bateman.

Chris Walker:

Chris Walker is a former combat veteran going back to school after his time in the service. His exact major is unclear as it has changed several times. But due to his emence size and overall strength he is also a coveted member of the MMU football team. Chris does not have a particularly close relationship with anybody and only happens to know Miles because he had a class with him once (and in turn grew to dislike him as he came off extremely annoying).

Blake Langermann:

Blake is a fellow jornalisim major along with Miles and is a catholic school survivee. Blake is only mildly acquainted with the likes of Miles and Waylon and instead focuses a majority of his time on working on projects with his girlfriend Lynn who is also a journalism major. These projects are usually Exposes regarding local controversies or drama going on (along with the periodic serious human rights/civil rights violation). However, he will join Waylon and Miles on their bullshit adventures from time to time.

Father Martin:

He is the weird guy standing outside of MMU with a large sign only instead of telling people they are going to hell, he warns of the end times and weird ghost demons coming but it is unclear if he is for or against them.

Sullivan Knoth:

Is the leader of the Cult Val escaped from and one of the main antagonists in Val's life. He is functionally the same compared to how he is in the game minus the radio tower frequencies: he is just crazy naturally.

Marta:

Is funtionally the "Sister Cindy" of MMU. She, unlike Father Martin, does accuse all of the students of being whores and tells them they will burn in hell if they don't repent (and do so to Knoth's teachings). She is also the closest immediate threat to Val's freedom and safety outside of the cult given she is still actively looking for her (dubbing her "the Heretic").

Ethan:

The only person from the cult Val is still somewhat in contact with. He is too attempting to escape given his fading faith had the fact Knoth sexually assaulted his daughter and is denying his wife the ability to get cancer treatments as "only god can decide if she lives". He tried to leave with Val initially but had to stay behind in order to at least allow Val to escape and to protect his family.

Billy Hope:

Billy is a highschooler who has functionally adopted by the MMU football team and is "enrolled" at the school a year early so he can play football. His mother, Tiffany, more or less signed off on it due to the hefty sum of money she was offered to allow her son to play.

"The Twins":

Really creepy townies everybody avoids and can usually be spotted with Martin

Pauline Glick:

The asshole president of MMU who may or may not be taking bribes and doing a bunch of illegal shit along with Blaire and Trager

"Mother Gooseberry (Phyllis Futterman)":

Is a washed-up former children's TV host who later became an art teacher at MMU. She teaches several of the more "technical" arts classes such as sewing and technical drawing. However, she also teaches dental classes at MMU although not that many. It is unclear when or if she even got a degree in dental medicine. But given she is only teaching more "anatomy" based lessons and is not actually practicing medicine: it is looked over by MMU administration.

Leland Coyle:

The campus cop who is activly on a power trip, all of the time.

"The Pusher":

The guy who sells literally everybody drugs. Weed, coke, you name it, he has it.

[muzzlemouths]

Prompt: "We dont have to do anything at all if that's what you want." Would be good for a bit of post panic comfort.

this prompt came right when I needed it too ngl...........

Sun & Moon Centric // Wordcount: 1,440

It starts with a bad day.

A bad day turns into a bad week, the bad week becomes a headache, then a migraine, and that migraine creates tension. The tension builds into restlessness. Overstimulation.

Which then becomes panic.

The first time you have an attack at work, it’s in front of Sun. It’s in the middle of your shift and it happens like all panic attacks do; like spilt milk, triggered by the smallest inconvenience. You aren’t sure what causes it - your shirt sleeve getting wet, a book falling on your toe, a child screaming just a little too loud - it could have been any number of things. You can’t remember. The moment was lost to you.

What you do remember is Sun’s face. He’s busy with a game when you catch yourself in the midst of it, and he looks up just in time to see you making a run for the door. A hand locked over your mouth, limbs shaking, tears on the brink of escaping, it’s all you can do just to get outside the two Daycare doors before all of it spills over.

Things are different after that. Something’s tilted, off kilter. Not on the brink of panic but drifting in the aftershocks of it, where the world is still only a distant whisper. You’ll get through it - or over it. You always do. It doesn’t mean the episode is any easier to bear, because you’re not really processing (you don’t have the energytimecourage to) you’re just enduring. The feeling will eventually become an afterthought.

Sun treats you like dainty orchid. Like any slight inconvenience will result in torn petals and another fit of tears. Maybe that’s the guilt; he wasn’t able to get to you that day - not without leaving the Daycare - and by the time you returned it was with a tight smile and a promise that you were alright. A lie he is quick to point out, and one you don’t fully deny.

He tiptoes around you at half his usual volume. He offers every opportunity to be a listening ear, convinced you aren’t going to get better until you talk out the storm cloud above your head.

And maybe that’s what you needed - to talk things out - but you sure as hell weren’t going to do that. What was the point? Talking was hard. Talking meant exposing things you’d prefer were kept hidden, especially when you already spent all of your energy on just existing. It would happen again, inevitably, and you would repeat this whole process without ever solving anything. Talking won’t change that.

He switches gears only a few days in. Distractions. If you can’t (won’t) talk about it, you must simply be overwhelmed by it. Breaking the emotions down into tiny bite-sized pieces will make them easier to digest, he thinks. Enough distraction and you might not think the issue is so big, you might not see it as this horrible, intimidating thing, and you might do something to confront it. Or, at the very least, let him in to fight the demons off in your stead.

So he pulls out all the stops. His offers to play games go continuously ignored, your favorite songs just bounce off your ears even when blasted through the Daycare speakers. His art makes you smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes, and he can tell. He can see it.

Nothing he does is what you need. When you trip, the bruise doesn’t go away overnight. Sometimes it turns an ugly color, first. Sometimes it takes weeks to disappear. Even then, the skin beneath it remains tender until it’s ready to move on. You can’t rush this soreness.

There’s no way to explain the process in a way he’ll understand.

There comes a point when he seems to acknowledge this. Somewhere towards the end of the week he stops trying all together, days of energetic attempts without success finally getting to him. He was built for joy. Built for comfort. This was an itch in his protocol that he couldn’t scratch and it was beginning to wear on him. He didn’t have the answers.

But maybe someone else did.

Sun is mostly quiet when you arrive at the Daycare that day - a sharp contrast to his usual habit of filling the air with speech bubbles - you don’t try to stop him. Not while he’s talking, and not when he stops, gets up, and moves somewhere out of view.

There’s several hours more to your shift and you’re content to stay here, slouched against a foam block, knees to your chest and all alone, until that time is up.

Sun has other plans; he always does. It’s a persistence that’s endearing on the best of days and frustrating on the worst, and you don’t have the mood for either today. You can only expect he has some new concept to get you up and moving, talking, living again, that he’ll return with party poppers or a new string of jokes to try out.

The change from day to night is an abrupt one. You don’t see him flip the switch, and if he says anything you don’t hear it - but the lights undoubtly go out, one by one, and you’re left in the resulting dark. A little early, you think, but it’s the only thought to cross your mind before your chin returns to your knees.

Moon’s arrival is inevitable. You hear him before you see him; silvery bells ringing in an otherwise silent room. Nothing more. You don’t bring yourself to greet him, and he doesn’t expect a hello. Doesn’t sound annoyed at the lack of one.

He’s silent himself when coming to a stop at your feet. Says nothing when he sits in the spot beside you. The foam gives at his weight, forcing your shoulders to collide. He doesn’t say anything then, either. You keep your head low, tucked into your knees, and despite all prior evidence stating that Moon will tease and taunt you for the mood, today he is quiet.

It’s unnerving at first. You think that he’s mad at you - that maybe Sun tattled on your lack of communication and has sent Moon to finish the job. You think he’s just waiting for a good opportunity to prod at your sores and rub salt in the wound. Indifference becomes anxiety. After the week you’ve had, you’re convinced the other shoe is about to drop.

But it never comes. Moon mostly reflects your position; knees tucked to his chest, arms wrapped loosely around them. You can see his telltale red glow every few minutes - checking up on you, apparently - but still saying nothing.

You sniffle, burying your eyes into your sleeve and cursing the way they sting. You already made a fool of yourself in front of Sun, you didn’t want to repeat the process with Moon, who evidently wasn’t in the mood to talk with you anyways.

Eventually you have to break the silence.

“Aren’t you going to say something?” You force your way around a swallow, “Try convincing me to talk? Tease me for crying? Something?”

“Do you want me to?” His answer comes quick, catching you off-guard. He looks at you from the corner of his eye.

“It’s what I expected…” your fingers clench around the fabric of your pants. You wipe your face on your sleeve, clearing your throat. It croaks all the same. “You’re really not going to push me to talk?”

His eyes leave you, looking ahead, “We don’t have to do anything,” he tells you, “if that’s what you want.”

You lift your chin, but his gaze remains off to the distance.

The returning silence answers his question.

His arms raise into a stretch, then lazily curl behind his head. He settles deeper into the foam with the intention of making himself comfortable for however long you'll be there.

You don’t realize how much of your weight was supported by his shoulder until you’re slumped to the side and landing square against him.

He says nothing about it, and you don’t, either.

It stays like this for some time. True to his word, Moon doesn’t push for anything. You sit in relative silence instead; your head on his chest, his arm eventually settling over your back. And you’re fine with that - with all of it. You aren’t pressured to feel okay, like this, and Moon doesn’t expect you to try.

It’s everything you need for the moment. No talking, no expectations, no pushing for you to reach at a happiness that still felt too distant. Sometimes silence speaks the loudest, and all that.

Him simply being here, beside you in the quiet, is more than enough.

[420thewritersroom]

Got That Cursed Dawg in Him

Whoo-ie, this took slightly longer than intended. I wanted to gift this piece to @averageludwig simply because I LOVE LOVE LOVE their art and their pieces of the Demoman & Soldier makes my heart do backflips AND front flips. This is also highly inspired by @waterwindow art on Twitter that I think about daily, on top of that I love their art and their pieces on Demo & Soldier too.

This is also my first time writing anything involving the TF2 peeps, and I feel like it shows a lot when writing dialogue for the Soldier and Demoman (I didn't bother with doing written accents because...no, not skilled or patient enough to bother with that lol).

Before we continue, just wanted to do a bit of housekeeping, BLU Soldier is named John Doe (full name Johnathan Dodger) and is essentially a BLU Team OC. Same with the BLU Demoman, their name is Harvey (full name Harvey MacLennan). So for those who are confused on why the Soldier is named John instead of Jane, that's why. I also like to interpret the BLU Soldier to be a tad bit smarter (still a massive himbo). Anyway, I hope you enjoy the read!

Characters: RED Demoman (Tavish Finnegan DeGroot), BLU Soldier (John Doe), BLU Demoman (Harvey Maclennan)

Word Count: 2,058

Ships: RED Demoman/BLU Soldier (Boots n Bombs) if you squint

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence (it's not too gratuitous, but it's there), Unresolved Tension, mentions of murder, BLU Soldier is too dumb to not escalate situations to worse heights

John strains to keep himself upright, wobbly staying on his feet as he looks at the RED Demoman across from him under his helmet. Pained breaths escape him as he readjusts the grip on his shovel, having lost his rocket launcher in the fight long ago.

"Tavish," it hurts to talk as John forces himself to try to reach his former friend again, "Tavish, you need to snap out of it!"

He has tried, time and time again, since this fight reignited, to get Tavish to stop this bloodshed he was subjecting both teams to. John said he could talk him out of this blood-frenzied stupor that the RED Demoman was under, that there was no need to trap Tavish in the Respawn system. Or worse, cut him off from it completely. He can be reasoned with. He's one of the most reasonable men with both teams combined.

"You have to let go of that sword, Tavish. You can't let whatever commie trickery that thing is plaguing you with take over. For your sake, listen to me!"

The RED Demoman was slumped forward, arms dangling in front of him while holding on tightly to the Eyelander that dripped fresh blood from its blade. Tavish's remaining eye shone with a cursed green, the outcome of constantly feeding the sword the heads of not only the BLU team but RED as well. The usual rogueish charm that the Demolition Man possessed was gone. In its place, a blood-hungry beast that saw neither friend nor foe, but lambs fit for the slaughter. Despite being wholly empowered by the claymore, the body is still flesh and bone. Tavish, or whomever was possessing him, struggled to keep themselves aloft. They have lost too much blood, and Tavish's body protested any further exertion unless treated.

John, however, looked worse for wear. His uniform was ripped and in tatters, revealing the white tanktop below, which was also showing signs of damage. He lost FAR more blood than Tavish ever did, with multiple cuts that ran deep and oozed his essence all over his attire and on the dirt below. Breathing was haggard and painful for the BLU Soldier to do. Hell, existing was riding him up a wall as hours of fighting and dodging were catching up with him. The only reason he was still kicking was thanks to the few health kits and bottles that were littered about, the dispenser that his team Engineer set up for him (that was now destroyed at this point), and their resident nurse giving him a buff before the confrontation. But his resources were running thin. He practically ran this entire battlefield dry of its health kits and ammo, his rocket launcher and shotgun now only having a single shell and maybe two rockets for him to utilize.

"Heads," a ghostly snarl escapes not from the claymore but from Tavish's mouth, dripping like poison in John's weary ears. "Heads…Heads," the body continued to utter as it tried to inch closer to John. Tavish's body, exhausted from the fight, struggled to place one foot after the other, stumbling here and there as every nerve was demanding that this being stop and let it rest.

John can barely think. He tried talking to Tavish, but nothing was getting through to him. Every plea, insult, and statement was greeted with unbridled violence and horrific screams. Any strategy the war veteran could think of was leaking from his ears (or maybe that's just blood now that he's thinking about it). As Tavish's body lumbered closer, John scrambled mentally on what to do. Shooting Tavish will send him to respawn and will provoke the RED team to damn Tavish to whatever fate they opted to do. But he can't fight him either. Should whatever's controlling the Scotsman gain a second wind, John will be sent through the ringer instead, failing in his mission and pushing both teams to definitely kill Tavish.

Tavish was now within arm's length of the Soldier, scrapping the Eyelander beside him on the dirt ground and ready to swing the weapon at John's head. John isn't sure what compelled him to do this. Perhaps he was hinging on the possibility that their past friendship still lingered somewhere in Tavish's mind. Maybe it was a final distraction tactic he opted to pull out from under the possessed Demoman's feet. Regardless of what the reasons were, John pushed himself to get dangerously close to the deranged Demoman.

And he kissed him.

The kiss might as well be two kids on the playground pressing lips together, thinking this is "how adults kiss" or woeful virgins awkwardly "kissing" each other. The sensuality was lost between the two of them; their lips connected, but the desire that usually comes with it was in the other room.

Yet, John couldn't help but feel his heart flutter a bit. He tells himself that it's just the adrenaline and fatigue that caused his heart to skip a beat, kicking away the dawning fear that he might still harbor the same feelings that he felt all those years ago; before their fallout, before the Demoman betrayed his trust. But despite these affirmations he tried to hammer into his head, his lips still lingered far too long than they should have. But it must be doing something; Tavish has yet to raise his Eyelander at him.

John mentally had to rip himself away from the Demoman, quickly stepping back should the RED fiend decide to take a swipe at him. What he saw before him took him aback as the RED Demoman stared at the BLU Soldier with a wide eye. The color of Tavish's remaining eye no longer glowed a misty green, but it wasn't back to the usual brown that it was before. Instead, his eye was a startingly alluring emerald green.

"…Tavish?" John says carefully.

There's a brief moment of silence between the two, and John decides to take further initiative in this temporary standstill. "Tavish, you have to give me the sword. You're out of control, out of line, even for someone of your expertise."

The Demoman remained still, his face filled with foggy confusion as he seemingly was slowly coming to his senses. John took this moment of uncertainty to his advantage as he leisurely reached for the sword.

"If you don't let go of this communist contraption you found, they'll kill you. You hear me? They. Will. Kill. You, Maggot," despite the insult, it held none of the searing bite that it usually conveys. John silently thanks his helmet for shadowing his eyes as he used the concealment to prevent the RED Demoman from seeing him eyeing his sword.

"You may not be a red, white, and blue-blooded American, but I know you can fight whatever has plagued your English-muddled brain." John was so close to the sword that he could taste it. Just a millimeter longer, and he'll end this nightmare once and for all-

Tavish's eye suddenly flares in anger, shoving John away from him and placing extra distance from the BLU Soldier. "Then let them kill me. Maybe Heaven or Hell will have more use for me than this wasteland of a state!"

John stares at Tavish dumbfounded, his helmet slightly ajar to glimpse his blue eyes. "Tavish, you don't know what you're saying-"

"I know EXACTLY what I'm saying. Haven't had a drop of scrumpy since I've started this rampage."

So he was aware? All this time?

"What? You think I'm that ill-willed to just LET a dead son of a bitch take me over without an inch of a fight, eh? I fought the goddamn loche, read a cursed book, and lost me eye for it."

Not a single word was slurred or interrupted by an untimely burp. John was lost for words, unsure of how to respond.

"But, why? You're terrorizing both teams consorting with that weapon, letting it whisper Russian nonsense into your ears!"

"Firstly, this sword isn't from fucking Russia; let's put that through your tin-canned skull first. Secondly, I let it take over because I allowed it."

"But WHY?" Soldier couldn't restrain his growing impatience, his tone resorting back to his usual drill sergeant demeanor.

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"Don't back sass me, you one-eyed Scot son of a bitch. Your whiskey-drinking life is on the goddamn line."

"See, that right there," the Demoman points at the Soldier accusingly, "Maybe if you'd stop with those demeaning jokes, we wouldn't be in this mess!"

"Jokes? It's what you are, Tavish! You have one eye, and you drink! What else am I supposed to call-" John stops himself, his mind finally clicking back into gear and understanding where Tavish was coming from. "Ah, so drinking wasn't enough, was it? Gotta bully everyone else, all because of your own damn insecurities, is that it?"

"You shut your bucket-wearing trap," Tavish growled, his remaining eye threatening John with a ghostly mist.

"Maybe if you actually faced your own demons instead of trying to drown them out with whiskey and blood, you'd be half the man you wished you were."

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Tavish's eye becomes fully enveloped in the same cursed green color as his fury rises to new heights. "YOU HAVE LITTLE ROOM TO TALK FOR SOMEONE WHO WAS PLACED IN A MENTAL HOSPITAL FOR DECIMATING THEIR WHORE OF A GIRLFRIEND!"

Though this should've struck a cord in John, it instead made his spine and skin run cold as a shiver coursed through him. Nevermind that Tavish screamed to the heavens a secret he wished was left buried in its grave, but John completely lost the plot of what he was supposed to be doing. If anything, he reignited and made worse the Demoman's conviction to fucking kill him.

"T-Tavish, wait," John tried to backpedal, kicking himself mentally for letting his emotions run his mouth. But it was too late. The familiar sounds of Tavish's ungodly screams came rushing at him, and he had little time to run. Hell, he even tripped on himself attempting to run away from the bull that was the RED Demoman.

Thank his stars and garters that the Eyelander clanged against steel instead of his flesh and bone.

John is unsure when the BLU Demoman appeared or where they came from, but he was slightly grateful that the demolitionist stood between him and the willfully possessed Tavish.

"We gave you ten minutes, you took an hour, and we waited, John," Harvey's soft voice pierced through John like a hot knife to butter.

John panics as the possibility of Tavish meeting a fate worse than death becomes a painful inevitability in his mind. He scrambles through his words, thoughts not connecting to his lips, "Harv, please, just give me more time-"

"I gave you all the time in the world, Soldier. But something has to be done," Harvey grunts, and his words felt cold to the touch, but he does not raise his voice. Keeping a steady tone that, to an untrained ear, he might as well be as serene as a monk.

The BLU Demoman ends the standstill between him and his RED counterpart, building distance by kicking Tavish away with amazing strength. A prowess even the BLU Soldier didn't know his BLU companion possessed.

The RED Demoman's back slams against the outer walls of one of the buildings. With that previous stalemate, Tavish's body felt a renewed vigor as it slumped forward, and from his mouth, a familiar, venomous hiss escaped his lips, "Heads."

"If there's anything good that came out of your distraction, most of BLU have convened with RED, and they're plotting what to do with this beast once it's down." Harvey tilts his head to look at John, "Either you join them, or you help me keep this monster down."

John, from under his helmet, lingers between the two Demomen, searching through his mind how he can still salvage this situation. Ultimately, he settles on helping Harvey in the moment, and hopes to contain Tavish should they weaken him again. The BLU Soldier gets back on his feet, shovel in hand and stands with his BLU companion.

"I know you both have history, but that can not hold you back from doing what must be done, Johnathan," the BLU Demoman softly says.

"I know," John answers.

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

Hey, you made it to the end of the story, congrats :D

My main inspiration for making this piece, aside from Waterwindow's art piece, was because I have yet to see anyone put Demoman in the "unwillingly or willingly becomes possessed by an entity that takes over their body completely and they're so deep in the possession sauce that they require the power of friendship to save them or have to be put down like a dog for the sake of the world" trope, and I decided to clumsily make this a reality.

I can just imagine, especially when he gains the Eyelander and his friendship with the BLU Soldier is broken, that Tavish goes through a spiral of emotions as he questions his self-worth and feels guilty for betraying his friend all for a cursed sword. And his guilt and self-hatred eats up at him and he becomes vulnerable to the influence of the Eyelander and lets the sword put him on auto pilot, allowing the spirit within to go on a mindless rampage against both RED and BLU team.

[sweetlyybitter]

When I see Lemons

It reminds me of my best friend

So bright and a creature of nature

That has weathered everything that has been thrown at her, no wind of change could deviate her path for she is her own. She had been through so much and even in her off seasons, she continues to charge through life with confidence

But then I remember that I’m most likely not her best friend anymore and as she grows, I’m stuck here a little green, having a paradox moment of missing her warmth and not wanting to hold her back (a bittersweet moment of clarity)

When I see babies

It reminds me of my mum

Surrounded by their innocence of first sight Helping others to past the struggles she faced, with guidance and support.

The memories of childhood having escaped us both, trying to remember the fun times, the times of acceptance and of equilibrium 

But then I remember she had to distance her from me as a child to make herself feel better. Young enough to be both adult and child, who could not share with the other half of me. Forth and back, pulling non existent faces, no talking back to explain my emotions, not being the same smart. All downfalls, all faults o mine

Both growing up too fast, the eldest, wondering if the cycle will continue (worried it will be an unconscious reaction)

When I see the army

It reminds me of my dad

Always routine, precise and angry

The order of life, being always different and the same, brutal and strong, concurrently. Used to be an idol, used to be a symbol of strength, used to believe was good

But then I remember he repeats history while resenting it, yells at my brother for not being compliant, can’t handle change but moves every 2 years, confronting to the point of intimidation. While I’m always stuck in the middle of conflict, orders from all directions expecting to pick a side

When I see planes

It reminds me of my parents

All 5, technically, all separate lives, all reasons the same and different

Flying has a sense of freedom, excitement, entertainment. That time in between. Nobody’s attachment, nobody’s trouble, nobody’s thought. Travelling every holiday, swapping responsibility for a regret that now ties them together for life

But then I remember that planes can crash, and burn. You can swap flights again and again, no matter how much you leave behind. Fight over flights, over who’s supposed to do what, who wants when. I’m the extra passenger to some flights, no exception agreements, and just added baggage to the others, always having to pay for the repercussions

When I see photos

It’s reminds me of my brothers

None full, but who I love with my whole heart

Watching slides of their life click past. The colour that I can see developing, seeing their warmth, their contrast to each other. Catching glimpses of their happiness, their growth, their life.

But then I remember the difference. Too juxtapositioning for me to slot in seamlessly. Age, distance, structure, setting. I’m just the trial of the collection, the testing phase, the person always meant to be observing . (Maybe I’ve always supposed to be a spectator)

When I see roses

It reminds me of myself

All different colours, different smells, different ways of life that could have been.

How you grow is determined by you, mostly. How your roots either help you stand strong, or will watch you wilt. How different would I be if I was raised another way? Would I be louder, would I stand tall, would I be confident in who I am, would I be a better person?

But then I remember it was me. It was me who dug myself out of the dirt. It was me who grew from the broken garden

But then I remember the weather. Maybe I’m a weed instead, maybe I’m the problem. Stunting growth, rotten parts that are infecting others. Stubborn roots that keep coming back and stopping others from fully blooming.

It reminds me of awkward silence on a plane when you don’t know if you are coming or going, the discovery of old photos that make you wish for the naivety you used to have, the sleep deprivation from newborns to regret all your life choices, the look of roses dying in vase to remind you that you’re just wasting your life, the sensory overload of everyone shouting to figure out you can’t regulate your emotions properly, and the sour taste that makes you cry when you think about how everyone’s life would be better without you

[firediamondsv]

It Wasn't Supposed to be You

It's been a rough week or so for me, but I'm finally feeling better. Somehow, even in this state of anxiety and worry (or maybe because of it), I was able to remember more about my initial reactions to Winx 3 and Valtor. I knew that I enjoyed watching it that first time - that it changed my life - and that I came to hate Valtor at first. What I didn't remember until a few days ago was that it was the overall conflict that I was most interested in: his struggle against a universe that hated him and how that affected everyone in it. I was more concerned about the Winx and the continued existence of the universe. I mainly felt only negative things for him and didn't analyze anything about him outside of the context of the conflict overall.

But I'm multidimensional, and I could choose to (safely) become a part of this if I wanted to. I only wanted to bring him into the multidimensional universe so I could confront him and hold him accountable for his decisions in a way the Winx universe could not. That was supposed to be temporary. We were going to send him back there when it was over

But I guess things unfolded in a different way. I didn't have the heart to send him back to being imprisoned in a torturous dimension. I convinced Naomi 6 to let me keep him in Naomi jail instead. Eventually 4 helped him escape, and that allowed Valtor and I to gradually get to know each other better. It wasn't supposed to be him. But I suppose life just has a way of doing that sometimes. And now we're here, and I feel like I'm falling in love all over again.