#but would it TRULY kill anyone to spare ONE OR TWO reblogs on this. at the VERY LEAST the resource posts??

[lovewithoutresin]

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[fuckyeahhiccannamonth]

HIIIII HICCANNA NATION, long time no post!!!

Sooooo long story short, a bitch overcommitted HARD last year, and had like 17 Hiccanna month posts that I completely ran out of steam to finish. And then because I felt so guilty I didn't finish THOSE, I also didn't reblog all the incredibly awesome posts the rest of y'all made, and I'm really sorry for not giving my people the love and appreciation they deserve!!! And then, of course, my life from like October through like March became an absolute shitstorm, and I got semi-threatened with eviction and then friend-dumped by one of the most important people in my life D: It was a whole Ordeal™️, and sadly, my brain was too fried to think about my favorite awkward blorbos 💔

BUT BY GOD, THE TIME HAS COME FOR ME TO GET MY LIFE TOGETHER AND PULL THROUGH FOR ALL YOU WONDERFUL PEOPLE WHO HAVE MADE THIS FUNKY LITTLE EVENT COME TO LIFE!!! I WILL finish reblogging all of last year's Hiccanna Month posts before the end of this month if it kills me!!! And by god, I WILL have this event again, because it's what y'all deserve!!! I don't have the spoons to post much of my own stuff this year (except maybe some leftovers from last year lol), but I'm going to be more on top of my shit about hyping anyone and everyone who decides to participate :3 I'm so grateful for each and every one of you, and I can't tell you how happy it's made me that you all have made this event for my little rarepair OTP bigger and better than I ever imagined 💚🧡💚🧡

I am, however, following suit for some of the other RotBTFD ship months and cutting down from one prompt a day to two per week for 8 prompts total, with an overarching theme for each week. I honestly don't have the spoons to do a prompt every day this year, although for future Hiccanna months, that could change. The two-a-week format seems to work better for a lot of people anyways, since I've gotten feedback that 31 prompts in a row is, er…pretty overwhelming, to say the least ^^; So two prompts a week for this year, and we will see if people like this format better!

@gryffindorkxdraws a tag for you, as promised 🩵

AND NOW, the prompt list!!! Apologies for only giving you guys a couple weeks of prep time—I know it's usually more ^^; But y'all know I'm flexible about late submissions, and it's totally fine if you submit for Hiccanna month after July! And who knows??? If I'm feeling spicy, I might tack on a bonus week for the first week of August 👀👀👀

WEEK 1—MUSIC Special thanks to @lovestrucklyuniverse for suggesting a focus on music from Hiccup and Anna's movies—I'm enamored with that!!! Of course, these prompts are just suggestions, and if you'd rather make something inspired by a pop song, alternative rock jam, or Eurovision ballad that reminds you of Hiccanna, then have at it!

1. For the Dancing and the Dreaming—A re-imagining of our favorite Viking wedding song with Hiccup and Anna! They're certainly the sort of people who would do all manner of impressive feats and grand gestures to win each other over, but the joke is on them—they don't need to! Sometimes, pledging love and devotion is enough, and there's no need to slay monsters or gift troves upon troves of treasure to prove yourself worthy of someone.

2. More Than Just the Spare—One of my absolute favorite things about these two is how they rise above being overlooked and underappreciated and accomplish some truly spectacular things. This prompt is all about Hiccup and Anna showing that they can be more than anyone ever expected them to be—preferably together, while being madly in love!

WEEK 2—MOVIES AND TV Let's be real—we've all dreamed of seeing Hiccup and Anna interact (and adorably butcher flirting several times) on the big screen. Whether it's through an epic Disney-Dreamworks crossover (god, we all wish, right?!) or imagining Best Awkward Blorbos in your favorite TV show, this week is all about Hiccanna slaying in visual media!

1. Romcoms—Have you ever watched a romcom and gone "You know what would make this better? If it was about Hiccanna!"? Furthermore, have you ever watched a romcom and gone "Well shit, this is literally just about Hiccanna!"? Well, now's your time! Make something inspired by your favorite Hiccanna-coded romcom, or a romcom you desperately believe needs more Hiccanna energy in it! Or, hell, make up a brand-new cheesy romcom plot for these two and make us all swoon 💞

2. Dramas—We forget it sometimes, but not everything in these two dorks' lives is sunshine and rainbows. Hiccup lost a whole-ass leg! Anna almost froze to death! They both grew up lonely, friendless, and (relatively) isolated from their communities! For this prompt, take your favorite drama and Hiccanna-ify it—or aplify the Hiccanna you already see! It can be any subgenre you want—coming-of-age drama, period drama, weird avant-garde indie drama, you name it! Subject those guys to some Dramatics™️ and let us see :3

WEEK 3—LITERATURE AND TEXT PROMPTS This week is all about something so many of us long to have an excuse to do--write about the blorbos! Whether you're looking to try your hand at fic for the first time or you're coming back to add more much-needed Hiccanna into our ever-sparse internet ecosystem, these text prompts will hopefully get your fanfiction juices flowing. Pick your favorite(s) of the four for each day, and write away! If you want to try and do all of them then have at it, but don't stress yourself out!!! I wanna make sure this year's event is as chill and no-pressure as possible, since I know a lot of options can be overwhelming, especially for Anna and I's fellow ADHDers! And if you don't want to commit to writing anything, or writing just isn't your strong suit, that's okay too! Use this week to make something based on any literature that brings Hiccanna to mind, or any literary world you'd love to see our favorite awkward ship in. Happy creating! Also HUGE shout-out to @lilandraws for helping me narrow this down from 40 fucking prompts, because when I tried to just casually make a list of text prompts I liked, I got, um...a bit carried away ^^; Also for giving some absolutely hilarious commentary that singlehandedly got me through the workday, bless 💚💚💚 And thank you to @creativepromptsforwriting for the prompts themselves!

1. Pick your favorite(s)!!! a) “Two bros, chilling in a small bed…” b) “Someone just handed you a cat?” c) “Sorry I tried to kill you.” “It’s fine, but next time you should try harder.” d) “Takes one to know one.”

2. Pick your favorite(s)!!! a) He had prepared himself for all the different ways she could reject him. But what he hadn’t prepared for was for her to actually say yes. b) “Want to hear some random facts about geese?” c) “What are we?” “Human. At least I hope we still are.” d) “I can’t stop thinking about kissing you.” “And what are you going to do about that?”

WEEK 4—COMIC BOOKS And now, for the ultimate kick-ass combination of visuals and literature—the visual novel and comic book!!! Since Hiccup and Anna are, fundamentally, animated cartoons (as much as they are much more to all of us!), it seemed fitting to wrap up with this one :3 This week is all about comics, and what epic shenanigans and hijinks can come of Hiccanna-ifying them!

1. Sci-Fi/Fantasy AU—One of the things comic books and visual novels do best is exploring fantastical scenarios and limitless possibilities. The iconic superhero AU is probably the most well-known, but your options don't end there! Do you have a favorite comic about guys on spaceships exploring the galaxy and battling aliens? Or a comic about a party of DnD-style adventurers taking down an evil wizard? Throw some Hiccanna in it and let us see! The sky's the limit, and really, you don't even have to stop there! (Note: Using AUs for ANY of these prompts is real and valid and encouraged, so don't feel like this is the only place where you can use wacky AUs! This is just the one where they have a special focus/emphasis. But AU away whenever you like—Hiccup and Anna kinda require an AU to even be able to interact, so it sort of comes with the territory!)

2. Favorite Comic Book Adaptation AU—Many of us have been lucky enough to see a comic we like be adapted into something else, and can say with confidence that the adaptation kicks absolute ass,, whether it be a movie, TV show, novelization, video game, or whatever else! Like with the previous prompt, superhero comics might be the first thing to come to mind. Of course, I'd be delighted to see Hiccanna in the world of the Spiderverse, Invincible, or your favorite DC or Marvel movie, but keep in mind these aren't your only choices! Something like Scott Pilgrim vs. the World or Netflix's The Sandman would be a totally valid option as well! Have fun and go crazy :3

Aaaaaaand that's all for now! Tag those posts with hiccannamonth2024 or hiccannamonth24 so I can see them and reblog, and happy Hiccanna month-ing! Can't wait to see what everyone comes up with and shower all my love on it 💗💖❤️‍🔥 See you next month!!! We will go through all of July…and beyond >:3

As far as content goes, literally anything is welcome--edits, art, drabbles/fanfic, videos, interpretive dance you record yourself doing that has Hiccanna motifs, it is all fair game as long as it’s Hiccanna-related!

Your ever-determined Hiccanna month hoster person, Fuckyeahhiccannamonth 💚

[threeletterslife]

38 | Legends of Darlaria

⨰ summary: You wake up in yet another unfamiliar place. This time, however, these strangers seem to recognize you. With your previous judgments and aspirations thrown out the window, you're now forced to face where your loyalties really lie. Who will you betray? And which General will you choose to stand by his side?

⨰ pairing/rating: yoongi x reader & jungkook x reader | PG-15

⨰ genre: 70% angst, 30% fluff | war!au & magic!au

⨰ warnings: profanity, gruesome depictions of the war, death, blood

⨰ wordcount: 5.8k

⨰ join the taglist! (pm/send in an ask/reply/reblog)

⨰ previous | series m.list | next

⧖⧗Many, Many Circas Ago⧗⧖

“On your left!” Jungkook roared over the din of cries on the battlefield. He valiantly swung his sword, catching several Solarian limbs in the process, and sliced right through them as if they were made of paper. Mangled bodies crumpled to the floor, writhing as paper tended to in flames. He marched on, leaving his enemies to die, covered in blood that wasn’t his.

Swerving right, you narrowly missed a ball of fire, no doubt aimed at your head. It would’ve killed you had Jungkook not warned you. But on the battlefield, there was never any time to express gratitude, for one misstep, one second of wasted time could be fatal. Before the enemy could attack you again, you twisted your torso, eyes squinting as you concentrated on their limbs. In seconds, they turned into jelly. The Solarian soldier collapsed into a miserable, trembling heap, fear overtaking their features as their quivering eyes landed on the silver insignia on your black uniform—such a symbol only a General would be fit to wear. Their look of fear spoke to you. Please don’t kill me.

You turned your head.

Never look a helluvian straight in the eyes, Jungkook told you so many times before.

The first time he’d said that you and Hajin had been curious. But why? you’d asked in unison. The two of you had been so naïve then, inexperienced to the real atrocities of war.

It’ll humanize them, Jungkook had answered. It’s easier if you don’t think of them as people.

You walked away from the pleading soldier, sparing their life at the moment, but knowing their death was imminent. They had nowhere to run, for there was an entire unit of Darlaean soldiers right behind them. Guilt ripped through your guts, but you swallowed it just as you usually did. If Jungkook could walk away so easily, you should be able to, too.

You caught up to your lieutenant, who, despite the grueling hours already spent on the field, only had a light sheen of sweat on his forehead. If he weren’t drenched in others’ blood, it would’ve been hard to believe he was at war. Jungkook glanced at you from his peripheral vision and nodded to himself as if he were glad you were left unscathed from your last encounter. Then he was off again, his sword glinting in the afternoon sunlight, his sapphire radiant amongst the sea of deep red and black uniforms. He always moved as if he saw ten steps ahead—perhaps he truly did. 

“On your right!” you called in caution. 

Yet, the Solarian you’d warned about was already writhing on the ground by the time you finished your sentence. Jungkook gave you a knowing look. Thanks anyway.

You and your lieutenant ventured further into the battlefield, working in perfect tandem and paving a path for the rest of your army. You had no need for weapons—nor did you prefer them. So, you stuck to your maskings, which were temporary and meant to be innocuous. It was stupid, of course, to think that you were mitigating the Solarians’ pain by masking their limbs into jelly or their scarlet uniforms into stone. They would die anyway. But you just couldn’t do it. It was selfish and cowardly; yet, even the thought of having someone else’s blood on your hands made you feel sick. You couldn’t look anyone in their eyes—Solarian or not—and kill them. How could you? They were people too—people who just happened to be wearing a different uniform. They, too, would have loved ones to go back to after the battle was over. They, too, would mourn the deaths of the fallen once the rust-colored dust settled. They, too, would antagonize the very people who dared to take the lives of their brave ones. Yes, it was naïve to think you, the General of the Darlaean Army, could get away without spilling blood on her hands—you knew that. You also knew your refusal to kill was to satiate your own sense of morality. But knowing that you weren’t the direct cause of anyone’s demise gave you peace of mind—the kind that allowed you to sleep better at night and maintain your appetite. 

Jungkook, on the other hand, didn’t mind a bit of bloodshed. 

“Move!” he shouted. Even amongst the roar of the battle, you could hear his booming voice, devoid of its usual silvery tone. He sent a forceful kick to a Solarian in his way, sliced their head off, and leaped into the three-way fight that Seokjin was on the verge of losing. Your poor comrade sported burn marks all over his sleek uniform and looked exhausted, though determined to persevere. Still, it was three against one; if Jungkook hadn’t intervened, Seokjin would be dead.

In a flash, your lieutenant severed the limbs of one of Seokjn’s attackers and size-shifted the eyes of the other until they popped out of his skull. That gave Seokjin just enough time to duck the ball of fire of the third and deliver a killing kick to her head. Before the captain could express his gratitude, Jungkook was off again, moving swiftly with the wind, the only glint of color coming from the sapphire on his sword. Seokjin looked stunned for half a second, as one may when one was only seconds away from death, but he hastily resumed fighting, covering your blind spots. You, in turn, allowed Jungkook to take the lead.

The march back to base was a blur as usual. You carried an injured soldier on your back while Jungkook hauled two over each of his strong shoulders right next to you. There were casualties as usual, but they were much lower than expected. Even more miraculously so, you and Jungkook sustained no major injuries—a remarkable feat, considering you had been on the front lines. But perhaps that was just beginner’s luck, for you were the freshly made General and her lieutenant.

Your officials didn’t have to tell you the battle was a success for you to know it. 

“I heard you guys killed it!” Hajin said excitedly, grabbing two deviled eggs in each hand and shoving them in her mouth without chewing nearly as much as she should. The three of you were dining in your private quarters, which contrasted starkly with the barracks you were so accustomed to. Private quarters and an office came with your new title. Plus, extravagant food.

“It did go pretty well,” you said, smiling. “Better than expected. I just can’t believe it. No deaths, minimal casualties… Who would’ve thought?”

“Well, that new formation of yours was impenetrable. Absolutely no flaws at all,” Jungkook said as he sipped some wine. He was no longer using one of those half-rusted metal cups. Instead, the dark red wine sat in a beautiful crystal glass. His new title came with perks too. “Seokjin had a close call to death, though. If I hadn’t intervened.”

“Seokjin?” Hajin snorted. “Captain Kim?”

“It was three against one,” Jungkook said. “I had to help him out.”

“I bet he’s going to worship you now,” Hajin snorted. “Maybe he’ll worship you more than he worships Y/N.”

“Oh, come on,” you said. “He’s just a dedicated.”

“Come to think of it, he thanked me after the battle for saving his life and offered to shine my shoes for me.” Jungkook stared down at his feet. “But my shoes are always clean.”

“Well, did you tell him that?” Hajin asked as she took another deviled egg from the plate and took a gigantic bite.

“I did,” Jungkook said. “But he seemed insistent on assisting me in some way, so I let him wash a few of my uniform sets.” He smiled. “Y/N’s right. He’s dedicated. What a great guy.”

Hajin leaned back in her seat, grinning so widely you could nearly see her entire front row of teeth. “I’m so glad we’re still doing this,” she said with a content sigh. “You know, our late-night dinners.”

“And we’ll never stop,” you said. “I look forward to them every night.”

“As do I,” Jungkook said with a soft smile. 

The candles in your private quarters flickered, and the breeze from your open window helped the floral scent of the melted wax permeate through the room. It was a cool night, one that made you feel extra warm inside of your quarters. And in that moment, sitting with your loved ones, talking with them over dinner and drinks, you realized that you’d finally accepted your position. You were the General of the Darlaean Army. And you were no longer worried about it. 

But with this much power came a mountain of responsibility. You were determined to change Darlae for the better, as Instructor Shin always believed you would. And now you had the means to, for you commanded hundreds of thousands of soldiers who risked their lives in your name as well as the nation’s. 

It was strange. Before you were the General, you felt meek and never quite enough, but as soon as you assumed your new title, you morphed into a different person. Perhaps General Son did see your inner potential when he chose you. Or perhaps you didn’t want to fail him when he’d put so much faith in you. So, when all eyes were on you, believing in you, you realized that you had no other choice but to be who they wanted you to be. And instead of that being exhausting, it awakened a part of you that you didn’t know existed.

You shifted the funds, spending hours attempting to make the math work to provide better meals for your soldiers. By the end of the circa, the kitchens were bustling with royal chefs you and Hajin handpicked from the 12th city. Gone were the sad, dry variations of meat, bread and corn that sometimes left the soldiers going to bed still hungry, and in came roast ducks and pigs, delicious, crumbly pastries, and sweet, fresh fruits. 

When you realized some soldiers weren’t getting adequate sleep, you strictly banned your officials from giving their subordinates work to do after hours. Within weeks, you saw improvements in training performances. You were generous with giving soldiers free leave as well. When Taehyung’s sister grew seriously ill, you comforted him and offered him ample leave. He cried happy tears. When his sister’s condition grew worse, you had her looked after by your private team of healers; they never had much to heal for you, anyway.

When you stepped into the infirmary again after spending circas avoiding it, you realized how much of a shithole it was—smelled like one, too. Immediately, you sourced more healers from the 4th city, expanded the building itself, and added ventilation, which had been years overdue. 

Every soldier you met, you tried to remember their name so that the next time you saw them, you could call them by it. You also insisted that others called you by your first name, for General Kwang felt far too removed from who you were. You were merely Kwang Y/N, who happened to lead the army. Your soldiers were also more than their titles, so you called them by their names, too.

You tried to visit the 12th city as much as you could—to pay your respects to Hoseok and to occasionally facilitate the training program for adolescents. The cadets loved it when you rolled up to the castle gates in your fancy carriage. They would always crowd around you, telling you about their latest training and duels. You knew every one of their names, and if there was a face you didn’t recognize, you asked for an introduction.

Every so often, you would have a speech prepared for the cadets. You talked about your experience in the Training Corps, your hopes and dreams when you were their age—though most of them weren’t that much younger than you. You loved the bright looks in their eyes when they listened to you speak. It was as if somehow, your words were inspiring them. That, in turn, inspired you to visit them more often; they were the future of the army, after all.

But things weren’t always so perfect. Outwardly, you were the charitable General who single-handedly shifted the cutthroat army into a place of unity and understanding. You were on par with Guseul to some, though you couldn’t find that believable. You were simply human, not a legend who founded an entire nation. In the end, all of these good deeds came at your expense.

You lost sleep over brainstorming new ways to improve the army. When you weren’t fighting, approving battle plans and signing documents, you were memorizing your soldiers’ names and worrying over their wellbeing. Even when you were driven back to the 12th city to relax, the war was still on your mind. You couldn’t escape it.

What’s worse, your relationship with Jungkook took its first rocky turn.

He stood in front of your desk, arms crossed and frowning. You were sitting in your chair, looking up at him, pleading with him to be reasonable.

“It’s not setting a good example,” he told you, crossly. You’ve never seen him frown at you like that before. “I’m trying to help you,” he said. “As your Lieutenant General, I’m giving you advice.”

“But I can’t, Jungkook,” you said. “I can’t just kill...”

“Don’t you understand?” he said, running a frustrated hand up his hair. “You’re killing them anyway if you’re leaving them immobilized on a damn battlefield.”

“But they could still survive,” you countered desperately.

Jungkook gave you a look. “You know that’s not how the war works.”

He was right. He was so painfully right. But… “It’s… It’s my moral code, Jungkook. I just… I can’t kill someone because they were born in another nation that we happen to be at war with. What did they ever do to me? They’re only attacking me because they were ordered to. Because I’m wearing black and they’re wearing red. Please, can’t you understand?”

Jungkook scoffed, shaking his head. “I don’t think you understand,” he said, his voice cold. You never heard him speak like that; it made you feel so small, so stupid. “Our soldiers fight not because they were told to but because of passion. Because of hatred. Why do you think so many of us use light magic? They are motivated to march into battle, to kill the enemy because they believe those fucking helluvians are the scum of the earth. If you spare them in battle, if you show them mercy, your practices will bleed into your soldiers’ heads. They will begin to believe that these, these helluvians deserve to see kindness. They’re going to lose their passion, their hatred, their motivation. They will lose their will to fight. Do you understand?”

“But—”

“We have no choice but to continue to create propaganda that slanders the Solarian name. I would even argue that we must increase it to heighten morale.”

You shook your head, your hands gripping onto the edge of your desk. “But you don’t even believe in that sort of propaganda. Do you…?”

Jungkook gave you a long, hard look. He didn’t have to say anything for you to know his answer. 

“But you told me,” you said. “You once told me that I don’t have to kill. That with my… my talent, I wouldn’t need to.”

Jungkook didn’t even flinch. “That was before you became the General of the Darlaean Army,” he said. “Before you had any influence.”

Before you had any influence… Of course when you were a nobody, you could do anything you wanted on the battlefield; no one was watching. But now that you were the General, expectations were different. There were always people watching. It was a good point. Yet… “I don’t know…” you whispered. “I really don’t know…”

He only sighed. “Sleep on it,” he said. “But not for too long. I’ll still be expecting you at dinner.”

You showed up to dinner that day, not having made up your mind. Then, you proceeded to sleep on it for many, many weeks. In the end, nothing was done. You continued to have mercy on the Solarians you met on the battlefield, which you knew disappointed Jungkook, but maybe you were weak. Maybe you were selfish. Maybe you were a coward. Even after all of those battles you’ve been on, you were never able to shake that fear out of you. So you couldn’t do it. And if your soldiers couldn’t do it either, you wouldn’t blame them. Jungkook never asked about it again.

More battles flew by. You saw mostly victories, a few losses and many casualties, but your soldiers were resilient. They absorbed the new charms you developed and deployed them on the battlefield with ease. They learned the formations you assigned to them and executed them flawlessly. When they were hurt, they took their generous leave, but always came back, looking to serve their nation once again. You worked hard to support their ambitions, though with the tides of the war turned so far over in the Darlaeans’ favor, there was more room to breathe, which equated to more free time. 

Your dress collection began to grow. You spent odd hours in the night sketching your latest designs in your precious leather-bound notebooks and then masking them into gowns that were your exact size. You played around with fabrics: silk, velvet, cotton, lace, wool, satin. You experimented with different lengths and gowns for all sorts of occasions. The collection expanded so large that you had two other wardrobes built just to fit your chambers in the 12th city. 

Your wardrobe was rather small in the 1st city, understandably so, so you often rotated your gowns when visiting the 12th. There was a different dress for every occasion, every dinner meeting, every royal event. When you weren’t fighting in the war and leading official meetings, you discarded the rather drab Darlaean uniform, which you didn’t dare change for any other than legacy reasons. You didn’t mean to have fashion attached to your name, but it was inevitable with the meticulous way you chose to dress yourself. Your clothes told your story—each one mindfully made and woven with your emotions.

The lavender gown with sage ribbons evoked a sense of nostalgia when you donned it, for it was one of the very first gowns you successfully created. It reminded you of your training program days—before you went to war, before your military titles and the whole nation knowing your name. Things were much simpler then, which had manifested itself in the gown; though beautiful and flowy, it was rather plain in design. Yet, the intricate colors resembling springtime sprigs of grass and pretty lilac blossoms made up for it. 

The cotton garnet-hued dress tasted of blood—the aftereffects of your first victory as the Darlaean General. Inspired by the sea of red uniforms you faced and immobilized, the gown reeked of death, and yet just the faintest bit of triumph. The material was akin to the Solarian uniform: cotton, breathable, and perhaps a little shapeless. It had been a materialization of your fears on the battlefield—the fires, the blood, the Solarians. You never wore it, for it resembled the Solarian’s style and Jungkook wouldn’t approve, so it sat in the back of your wardrobes in the 12th city.

Then there was that sleek, silvery gown you’d crafted with soft tufts of fur around the neckline. This was an experimental one when you were playing around with the juxtaposition of contrasting materials. While you didn’t quite like the outcome, Jungkook did. He would always run his fingers over the fur, eyes glinting with longing. So, on one of his birthdays, you fashioned him a majestic cape made of similar material. He wore it everywhere, and especially to battle—something about enjoying the looks of horror on the Solarian’s faces when they realized he donned real animal fur.

The gowns that you did enjoy wearing, you often twirled around in them in front of your mirror, watching the hems flutter and the colors blend together like the wind. Sometimes, you had an audience—usually Jungkook and Hajin—who would give you second opinions on your designs. Though Hajin was never quite as interested in fashion as you—and occasionally Jungkook—she was still supportive. When she could, she asked you to configure her gowns for fancy events she was forced to attend as the crown princess. The budgets were glorious for the royal family, so you always enjoyed a worry-free day shopping for fabrics in the 3rd city, never checking the price. You spent countless hours fitting your newest creations on Hajin as her lady-in-waiting fussed over her hair and makeup. 

One such event you diligently prepared Hajin for was the Harvest Ball, a celebration in the 12th city in honor of the fruitful harvest in the 4th. You remembered this simple moment so vividly. The ball had been so suffocating that you, Hajin and Jungkook managed to sneak out to the Sapphire Lake—after you shook the hands of the nobility and gave your scripted speech. 

You could imagine how odd the three of you looked in your formal wear, sitting at the edge of the undulating waters, extravagant clothes soiled by the damp sand. You were wearing your beautiful navy dress that day, the silk one where the skirt rippled like the waves of the lake. An intricate silver circlet sat on your head, complementing the sparkling diamond around your neck. Hajin wore a deep purple chiffon dress you’d fashioned for her, a smooth velvet ribbon wrapped tightly around her waist, much to her disdain. She looked like a true princess with her silver tiara, ruby earrings and delicate necklace. Jungkook was always quite fashionable, and today was no different. He wore his usual slacks, which accompanied the silk and navy button-up you’d masked for the occasion. It was adorned with small sparkling jewels fit for a Lieutenant General. Draped over his shoulders was his fur cape, and tucked into his belt was his sword. He looked fiercely handsome, though you supposed he always did. 

It was peaceful and quiet as the three of you caught your breath after the rather suffocating social scene. You could see the gentle puffs of air leave your mouths from the Circa Amethyst cold. Winter was shedding, though the chilliness seemed to linger. Hajin was the first to break the silence.

“Well, that was a show,” she said with a laugh. “I can’t believe there was a line to talk to you, Y/N!”

You couldn’t believe it yourself. “I thought the attention would’ve been on the 4th city healers,” you said. “They’re the ones we should be thanking for the bountiful harvest.”

“Ah, but food is guaranteed for the nobles,” Jungkook says. “They’re always more interested in the war.”

“I think they made that pretty clear today,” Hajin snorted. She sunk back on her elbows to stare far out into the lake as sand clung to her sleeves. “Do you guys remember when I begged you to explore the Blackwoods?”

“You’re not going to beg us again today, are you?” Jungkook asked. Though his tone was serious, he was smiling.

“Of course not!” Hajin said. “Come on, I’m trying to be nostalgic, here,” she teased, reaching in front of you to playfully shove Jungkook’s left shoulder. “We sure were rowdy.”

“We?” Jungkook said incredulously.

“Oh, shut up, Lieutenant High-Horse.”

“Remember when we used to skate on this lake?” you asked, trying to dissolve the play-fighting.

“Yeah, and Jungkook would eat shit every time.”

“I appreciate you needing to resurface that detail,” Jungkook bit back sarcastically.

“Oh, you’re very welcome.”

They were snarkier than normal today, perhaps paying homage to the sweet, old memories the three of you shared in the Training Corps. Jungkook and Hajin had always loved to bicker. Though with age, they seemed to have grown out of it. Tonight was special, then, for they had reverted to their old antics. A wave of nostalgia came over you.

“We were so young,” you said. It came out more wistfully than you imagined.

“We’re still pretty young,” Hajin said. “Youth is a mindset!” she giggled.

“Clearly,” Jungkook said.

“You wouldn’t understand, you grandpa,” Hajin retorted.

You had to laugh at that one. Jungkook shot you a look.

“Sorry!” you said, stifling another laugh. “I guess I was trying to say we’ve come so far.”

“That’s true,” Hajin said. “Who would’ve thought that I somehow befriended both the General and Lieutenant General?” She slumped into the sand, hands on her stomach as she stared up at the sky with a grin on her face. “I can just taste victory,” she said. “You two have led us straight to it, all right. The war will be over soon.” She sat up excitedly, pumping her fist in the air. “We’ll punish every last one of those tree huggers for ever messing with the Jung Dynasty!”

Jungkook entertained her. “Oh, really? What will you do once the war is over and every last one of the helluvians is punished?”

Hajin paused. “That’s a good question, Lieutenant,” she said. “I never really thought about it. But I can think about it now! Lemme see…” She tapped her finger on her chin. “I’ll start a Deviled Egg Ball every circa in my name. It shall be a national holiday. Let’s see… I’d also spend some more time with my father. And I do hope they’ll let me continue to wear the Darlaean uniform because I won’t be able to last two days in gowns like these. I’d also take volunteers on an expedition into the Blackwoods,” Hajin said, grinning. “I expect the two of you to come with me, by the way,” she added. “We’ll all be able to search for Guseul’s Hill!”

Jungkook looked at Hajin like she was crazy.

You were nicer. “Let’s discuss that when the war ends,” you said. “We promise.”

Jungkook shot you a look that said, We???

Hajin’s grin grew wider at both your words and Jungkook’s expression. “I’ll look forward to it!”

There was the familiar, yet ever-so-putrid stench of piss and blood. You saw dead bodies left and right—bodies of which were missing their heads or various limbs. Some bodies had already been burned to ash and would soon mix with the blood and soil for the next unit of soldiers to trample over. Your soldiers were crying into the charge—some cried in pain while others cried for mercy. It should’ve been a typical battle. Even with the few losses, you were supposed to emerge victorious. You were winning the war for fuck’s sake.

But in that moment, it felt like you lost everything.

Jungkook saw it at the same time you did. 

She was lying on the ground, face up, her eyes empty yet wide open, a hole through her head. 

First, there was the shock. It sizzled through your body and left it feeling scorched, sucked dry. Your legs threatened to give out. A distinct ringing in your ears came and never left.

Then, it was red. All you saw was red.

Was it rage? The blood? The fucking Solarian uniforms?

“Y/N!” Jungkook yelled.

You ran.

The terrain was rugged from the fallen, your feet stumbling over severed limbs and still bodies. You slipped several times, and once, your ankle twisted unnaturally, but there was no pain. It was as if you couldn’t feel anything. You didn’t stop running until you knelt over her, grasping her still warm hands, pretending like she was only in a deep sleep and she’d wake up any moment now. 

“Hajin,” you whispered, squeezing her hands. “Hajin…”

Warm blood trickled down from your forehead. You had no idea how it got there. It sunk into your vision, tinting it red. You tasted iron on your tongue. The droplets dripped from your chin. You wondered where the wailing, the bawling, was coming from until you realized it was from you. 

Yet you couldn’t stop screaming.

Fire hurtled at you. You only had half the mind to duck. 

Someone was calling your name. He was grabbing your shoulder, trying to hoist you up. You fought him, staying on the ground, wrapping your arms around Hajin’s body, rocking back and forth and back and forth.

Another ball of fire careend your way. 

You turned it into smoke with a desperate, clumsy wave of your hand.

The same someone mutilated your attacker, hot blood splattering everywhere, and yelled, “You’ll get yourself killed!” 

You barely heard him.

“H-Hajin…”

You held her close to your heart, fingers tangling into her matted hair, hoping that she would wake up, that the blood spilling from her head was a stupid illusion. Red. It was all so red. Your bloodied hand reached up to touch your necklace.

Hajin… It’s so pretty….

Aw, don’t cry! Everyone in my family has accessory trinkets. My father’s is his crown. My mother’s was a bracelet. Mine’s an earring. And now yours is a necklace. Isn’t it beautiful? Dad thought a ring would be a better fit, but I argued against it. You like to fidget with your trinket, so I thought you’d lose it if it were a ring.

Your shaking hand tucked her dark hair behind her ear to reveal her trinket. The ruby earring had lost its shine as birthstones did when magic no longer coursed through the Darlaean’s veins. You couldn’t bear to look at it, so you let her short hair fall over her ear again.

Look! Look! A secret passageway! We have to explore it! How could this have been in my room all these years? How are we only finding this now? Maybe I should’ve taken up reading earlier. Oh, Y/N, we’ve got to go in there! It’ll be like the secret passageways in my summer home! Oh, what an adventure! I wonder what we’ll find. Today’s looking out to be adventurous after all. Come on!

W-Wait! Don’t you think it’ll be dangerous?

If it was dangerous, it wouldn’t be in my room.

W-What if this is how your aunt disappeared?

Then we can finally solve that mystery! I can always go by myself!

Blood continued to spill out from the wound between her eyebrows, drenching your hands and uniform in red. Red. You were so fucking sick of it. 

It’s the Solarians. They’re murderers! The whole lot of them! Did you see the damage they’ve done in the infirmary? We’ve got to punish them, Y/N! We’ve got to get our vengeance! We’ll defeat those helluvians one day. We can’t keep letting them get away with killing our people, Y/N! Not after what happened to my poor mother! Oh, I miss her, Y/N. Isn’t it sad? She died on the battlefield when I was only four. I can’t remember much, but she had my trinket made for me. See?

You buried your face in her hair, and though blood smeared on your face, you didn’t care.

But guys, it can only go up from here! Seven battles in and… damn. I can’t even explain it! It’s like… It’s like I’m finally doing what I’ve always dreamed of doing! Every time I go out there, I’m raining hell on those stupid helluvians, knowing Mom’s watching me from somewhere, really fucking proud. 

Guys, guys, guys… I just realized something! I swear, if I died now, I would be perfectly content.

A loud sob left your lips.

I think I’ve gotten everything I’ve wanted out of my life! I’ve killed some tree huggers, I’ve finally made it to the 1st city, and I even have two amazing bodyguards!

You failed her. You failed your best friend, the crown princess, and you failed her father, the Darlaean King, as well. What would he say? You didn’t want to imagine the horror-stricken look on his face. 

The least you could do was bring her body back with you.

“What the fuck are you doing??”

You grabbed onto her arms, pain shooting up your leg as you stood up. You swore it hadn’t been there before. “I have to bring her back. I have to!” Your voice was so hoarse it was almost unrecognizable.

“Are you fucking insane?”

You ignored the voice. “Retreat!” you screamed. But that command was pointless, not without the violet smoke signal. The world was a blur. “Retreat!”

“Y/N!” The voice was angry now. “Don’t you dare order a retreat!”

“I have to!” 

“Fuck, Y/N, you can’t! We’re so close—”

“Help!” you called to no one in particular. You began dragging her limp body towards the 1st city. Your leg was beginning to feel numb from the pain. “Please, someone! Help!”

“Whatever you do, don’t shoot the retreat signal! I’ll take care of things. Do you understand?” Your shoulders were grasped. “Either leave her or get out of here alive. Do you fucking understand?”

You were a sobbing mess, a mixture of blood, snot and tears all over your face. “Yes,” you said. 

“I can’t cover for you,” he said.

“Jungkook…”

“She’s already dead, Y/N. There’s nothing we can do.”

You were crying so hard that you couldn’t breathe. But you continued to drag Hajin’s body across the battlefield. Your arms ached and your leg was threatening to give out, but you continued. You had to get her back. You owed it to the king. You owed it to her, too.

You were being targeted, but you lashed out at your attackers, immobilizing them by turning their uniforms into stone. You continued to move.

Someone grabbed Hajin’s legs and began helping you carry her across the field.

You didn’t register who he was until minutes later. The kind face, the tousled hair, the soldier, your comrade, your friend, the one who had a boxy smile. “Thank you,” you sobbed.

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung answered. “I’m sorry.”

You nodded, letting go of Hajin’s arm momentarily to throw another hex at a Solarian soldier who dared to get too close.

“Let’s bring her back home, all right?”

You won the battle. But it didn’t really matter.

The king fell to his knees when he saw his daughter’s still body. 

And the entire world wept, it seemed, for Hajin was quite the beloved princess. 

She was so young. Only 22.

I’d take volunteers on an expedition into the Blackwoods. I expect the two of you to come with me, by the way. We’ll all be able to search for Guseul’s Hill!

Let’s discuss that when the war ends. We promise.

I’ll look forward to it!

⨰ previous | series m.list | next

⨰ a/n: so.... another sad one! the next chapter is one of my favorites :') act II is the saddest act of the series, but don't worry! things get a lot more magical and romantic in the third. meanwhile, hang on and enjoy <3 the next update will be in a month (oct 25th, 2024)

please consider telling me your thoughts with a comment, an ask or a reblog :) i love hearing readers' impressions/rambles/predictions! if you want to join the taglist, send in a private message, ask, reply to this post or reblog with your request!

[celticrune]

Very tempted to copypaste the entire ask list as revenge but I'll behave. 🌌✂️👑📎 for Temperance, 🚆☁️ for Tanwen and ☄️❇️🌈❤️ for Keiji! And maybe even 💚🎡🪤 for Val.

:3 reblog an ask meme with many questions, get punished with curiousity. and starting with temperance, smh, i see you like the evil ones

also yeah uh. long. good luck. plus the usual warnings that temperance is Not A Good Person

Temperance

🌌 MILKY WAY - what was the inspiration behind your oc? what was the first thing you decided about them?

I made Temperance in concert with Val, so you're going to get a double whammy on this one haha. Val came to be because I was talking with friends about evil DnD campaigns and we ended up making a trio of evil characters, who grew into their own setting with a main city where they do their evil. I really like characters who are living weapons of a sort and I love playing with identity, so I quickly settled on the idea of a conman with a thousand faces, who ends up disappearing behind the masks. Who has no name, is nobody noteworthy, someone you would never spare a second glance if you saw them on the street, but who because of that can steal any face and fit in anywhere. That's still a core part of Val and what makes them scary, though actually writing it and exploring it can be a bit of a pain. But! We're here to talk about the queen bitch herself. IIRC, what first gave me the idea of Temperance was a specific suggesting in the Player Handbook entry about the Conman background. Correction: It was the Charlatan background. "I owe everything to my mentor - A horrible person who's probably rotting in jail somewhere". A living weapon style conman who struggles with identity and an awful teacher who made them into what they are and who they equally resent and thank for that?? listen this is catnip to me. how could you expect me to resist. So this is where Temperance came into being. I quickly ditched the idea of the mentor being in jail, because I wanted the option of her being an active threat. Then as time went on and the other two characters in the evil trio got more fleshed out, I wanted someone more... "actively evil" to match those two. Val is a follower, and I needed a leader. Temperance, then, is everything I love to hate. She is all about facades and pretense, about fitting into society and using their prejudices against them to get ahead. She sees pawns, rather than people, and only truly respects two (2) total people. also she's a hot dangerous lady who doesn't usually do her dirty work herself, now that she is rich and established enough she doesn't have to, but she still would poison you and watch with a pleasant smile as you choke on your own vomit so. like. i'm gay i'm not blind. hope you're not regretting your questions yet as i am incapable of being concise and it will probably not get better :D

✂️ SCISSORS - what is the “last straw” for them to cut someone out of their life? how easily do they let go of people?

Haha. "How easily do they let go of people" extremely easily. Val was her most succesful project and arguably someone close to her and now that they've ran, she would still kill them without a second's thought for betraying her. If you want to be in Temperance's life on her terms, there are two rules: Adore her, and obey her. She tolerates no less, and she will not hesitate to drop you for a more willing toy if you don't have a secondary use for her. There are some rare exceptions, mainly Chal (one of the two OCs in the original evil campaign trio), but baseline? As much as lovebombing is a major facet of her emotional abuse, Temperance only cares about one person and it is herself. Anyone else is simply a means to an end and will be treated as such.

👑 CROWN - what does your oc want to be remembered as? why?

A queen. She is aware that will not happen and has settled for being a shadow queen, pulling her strings behind the scenes and watching everyone who thinks they're in control dance to her tune, but what she wants deep down is for everyone to know. To see her and see power, see influence, see control, see someone who will never ever be disrespected or fucked with.

📎 PAPERCLIP - a random fact.

I get to use a basic fact about her as a random fact cause you don't know her that well yet, score. Temperance is an albino (in her native setting, an albino tiefling), usually with a light pastel pink hair. She is also the reason Val still panics when they see someone with pink hair in a crowd or from a distance.

Tanwen

On a much nicer note! My darling ray of sunshine.

🚆 TRAIN - what is their answer to the trolley problem?

Pixel you are cruel. First answer and the aftermath: Cry, feel immensely guilty, panic, feel more guilty. She would choose to save more people but it would absolutely gut her and she would feel deeply personally responsible. Depending on the exact situation and the aftermath this is something that could break her as a character, or at least ruin her very very badly and take a long time and the right support to recover from In a philosophical classroom context: She honestly wouldn't be able to answer. Would be deeply uncomfortable with having to consider it too, and she would have to be very hard pressed to stop dodging it and actually pick one.

☁️ CLOUD - a soft headcanon

she fucking deserves one after that

As a child she made a lot of bead bracelets and she would gift them to anyone nice. The town she’s from isn’t that big, so at one point almost everyone walked around with a colourful, Tanwen-made bead bracelet.

Keiji

☄️ COMET - what do people assume about them? are they right?

When he’s lucky: Exactly what he wants them to.  That he’s annoying, that he’s an idiot, that he’s a little shit and he knows it. That he’s down to fuck, when they’re hot. 

Keiji tries very hard to give off an air that he’s untouchable, and he does that by leaning hard into being a bit of an asshole. He likes riling people up, likes getting a rise out of them, loves making fun of people who actually have morals and ideals. So he comes off as all those things, and he comes off as a guy who’s fun to get drunk with but not much else.

If you have an experienced eye you might spot how easily he keeps his balance even when wasted, or how alert he is to exits and entrances and anyone close to him, or how his slight build doesn’t quite hide the lean muscle, but to most folks he looks like nothing more than a small guy with a big attitude and a bigger mouth. He’s very happy to keep it that way right up until he kicks out their kneecaps.

❇️ SPARKLE - what is their most prized possession? what do they value?

okay now, see. i hate you. Keiji doesn’t really have material attachments. He likes stuff, he likes nice things, when he has the time and space to stay in one place for longer he immediately fills his whole bed with pillows. But in terms of a prized possession? There’s one thing that I suppose does count, and that’s from his native DnD verse. It’s an amulet with a symbol of Pelor,  the sun god the monastery is devoted to. He claims he still carries it so he can scam believers into giving him free stuff, but a part of him can’t bear to toss it. It holds the weight of a home he loved, once, where he thought he belonged and where he thought he had value, and even though all that is now ruined and broken and he should know better and he should just fucking toss the thing, he can never bring himself to.

Oh! And bonus round for GW2, in the main verse where Tahir is the commander and Keiji is his right hand (and eventually husband): When they were newly dating Tahir gave him one of his own leaves, encased in amber. Keiji wears it as an amulet and was wearing it when he was killed by Balthazar. It came with him into the realm of the Lost, and it is what reminded him of his name and his memories. In the physical world it split down the middle when Balthazar stabbed him, but when he comes back the amulet heals over too, and it now glows a faint blue to match his scar.

In general: Keiji doesn’t really value possessions. He tends to live lives where he can pick up and move at any moment. When he gets attached it’s to people

🌈 RAINBOW - what advice would they give to their younger self?

“Don’t be a fucking idiot. Don’t believe a word they say.”

❤️ RED HEART - their love language(s)?

Words of affirmation and physical touch. The former to receive, the first to give. When Keiji falls he falls hard, but it’s hard for him to show it and harder to say it. It's easier to watch what he does. See where he stands in a room, see how he'll keep finding excuses to totally casually touch the person he likes, how he can't sit on a couch next to them without laying his feet in their lap or how he can't make a joke without looking to them first to see if they laughed.

Receiving physical touch is good for him too, but words are what makes him melt. Tell him what he means to you, tell him you care and he matters and he just fucking dies. It feels surreal and impossible and he can't bring himself to really believe it and that's what makes it all the more powerful to hear. Contrary to that, though, is that the immensity of it also makes him really likely to try and squirrel out of it. Deflecting compliments, sassing to distract attention away from the sweet thing they said, anything he can manage.

When it's deep enough in the relationship he can actually be made to sit down and listen and accept it without running, but that takes time. Before that, it takes some mild force or finagling. Am I talking about literally tying him up and distracting him with sex until he's soft and floaty enough to let his guard down and you can swoop in with the praise? Maybe. It's not an underhanded tactic if it works.

Val

💚 GREEN HEART - what things make your oc feel comforted? hugs, kisses, food?

The best thing you can do for Val is be there. Be close but don't crowd them, don't touch them unless they ask or initiate it, and always leave them an open room to escape. Talk, give them something to listen to and quietly chime in with when they start to feel better. Physical contact sometimes helps, but they'll ask for it if they want it and then it's usually sitting with their shoulder pressed against yours, or resting their head on you.

The one exception re: touch is their dog, Kaylie, who is very good at grounding them when they dissociate or start to. Do they sometimes also hug Kaylie pretending she's the human and wishing they could just be normal and hug the person they care about without feeling trapped? maybe.

If we're talking self-soothing, or things they do for comfort, there's baking. When they were still with Temperance, on very rare days where they had time off and there were ingredients to spare they would make cookies for the younger girls and those are some of the rare actually treasured memories they have. They still like baking cookies, and it's both a ritual and a comfort thing for them and what they tend to when someone they like is going through a tough time and they're not sure what they can do to help. When in doubt, make friend's favourite cookies and gift those.

🎡 FERRIS WHEEL - are they someone who wants to kiss at the top of the ferris wheel?

there may in fact be a fic about that wait shit no it's N that gets the kiss at the top of the ferris wheel and not F. also this means nothing to you because it's Wayhaven related and not gw2 but shhh.

Actual answer: Yes, they'd find it charming and romantic.

🪤 MOUSE TRAP - what will always lure them into certain danger? a loved one in danger? a promise of something they are always searching for?

A loved one in danger, absolutely. They try not to but they can have a bit of a self-sacrificial streak because, well, they can handle pain better than most people and if someone needs to suffer, it is better it's them than the people they love. Children being in danger or being mistreated too, there's no way they can stand by and watch that happen without trying to interfere.

[itsyourchoicedevotionals]

Very Real Powerful Force

“Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!” Philippians 4:4NIV

For 21 days I’ve been on a public fast. Fasting always reveals areas needed correcting. Afterwards, prayers are answered. This time has been no different. Yahweh Adonai has been working amazing things into my heart.

One area— truly rejoicing. “Always be joyful. Never stop praying” 1Thessalonians 5:16-17NLT. Face it— where there’s more needs than money— new laws written daily to take away more of our freedoms— corruption in every area, including the churches— enemy armies crossing our borders in-mass to take over our nation— children being used trafficked to sick perverts— life tends to become too heavy to bear. Rest assured! We’re not the first people to see these evils and feel overwhelmed.

Problem is: we’re looking in the wrong direction. Jesus said, “Now when these things begin to happen, look up and lift up your heads, because your redemption draws near”” Luke 21:28NKJV. The Lord Yahweh is our Savior. Government leaders and laws aren’t. Jehovah has not, nor will He change. Look to Him, He’s the same “yesterday, today, and forever,” Hebrews 13:8.

LORD God sent me to Genesis to read. Corruption abounded, so much so that God regretted making humanity. He was ready to destroy everyone. But— “Noah, however, found favor in the eyes of the LORD” Genesis 6:8BSB. Ending? Noah and his entire family were spared in the ark during the flood.

Question: Where did all the sin come from between Genesis 6 and 19 when God pulled Lot and family out of Sodom? Noah walked with God, his sons didn’t, even after seeing the flood, his sons didn’t walk with God. As for Lot, angels rescued him, and daughters, Genesis 19, God spared his two girls, knowing their penchant for incest. Noah and Lot trust in God to take care of them. saved their families also— God knows how their hearts would have mourned losing their children. Is it any different for us today?

Nehemiah, and the Israelites had returned from seventy years of captivity in Babylon. The younger ones probably didn’t even fully understand the importance of returning to Israel. When they returned, neighboring lands were trying to kill them, while they built a wall for protection, (maybe like a border wall.) As they finally finished their work enough to read the scriptural laws, they realized how sinful they were. Remorse came, but they were instructed ‘don’t cry —celebrate’— “…Go your way. Eat the fat and drink sweet wine and send portions to anyone who has nothing ready, for this day is holy to our Lord. And do not be grieved, for the joy of the LORD is your strength. Nehemiah 8:10ESV. Take the phrase “of the LORD” out of the preceding verse— “for the joy…is your strength.” Joy isn’t a fleeting emotion but a very real powerful force of walking with the Lord, sharing intimacy. This joy force requires us to look at Jesus— (Yeshua Hamashiach in Hebrew), as the Supreme Being, all powerful, undefeatable. Satan and fear cannot stand up against joy and rejoicing. They have to flee, (see James 4:7).

Rejoicing like fasting brings promises. Yahweh has promised me— “‘Do not fear [anything], for I am with you; Do not be afraid, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, be assured I will help you; I will certainly take hold of you with My righteous right hand [a hand of justice, of power, of victory, of salvation]’” Isaiah 41:10AMP. Like Noah and Lot were rescued— While all the evil is surrounding us, we have nothing to fear. Our salvation is near. Will you look up and rejoice? It’s your choice. You choose.

LET’S PRAY: Yahweh thank You for teaching us the power of joy, and Your mercy for us who believe. Help us to rejoice more, in the name of Jesus Christ I pray.

by Debbie Veilleux Copyright 2024 You have my permission to reblog this devotional for others. Please keep my name with this devotional, as author. Thank you.

[free-pool-trash]

come off it - george weasley

i wrote this because i was bored and in my george feels :) if you know me irl no you dont

word count: 5k

warnings: swearing, y/n absolutely bullying draco 💓😌, angst at the start for 0.2 seconds, mentions of blood, umbridge being a bitch, kissing 😽 slytherin!reader

summary: george wants to break up just until you graduate to keep umbridge off your case but it comes out wrong. eventually you both agree to keep your relationship on the low until you can see each other at graduation <3 (im terrible at summaries)

this is my first time ever writing for hp so please let me know what you think, id love feedback <3 reblogs are so appreciated

let me know if you’d like more hp stuff

masterlist

(also i dont support jkr if i saw her on the street she’d need new kneecaps <3)

The silence was screaming, the room completely devoid of volume, and yet, you’d never heard anything quite so loud.

He never moved from his spot, perched on the arm of an old grandfather chair, his head hung and his hair blocking his eyes from view, hiding any chance you had of reading his expression.

Feeling suffocated by his lack of dialogue, you spoke up again, your voice nothing more than a whisper to be swallowed up by the silence, “So, that’s that then.”

The quiet in the room didn’t bother you so much after you heard the words that had slipped from your lips, you could find solace in the hollow silence. Relating it to your thundering heart, that was beating rapidly, but the thought that you no longer knew what it was beating for left you like the aforementioned silence; hollow.

“I’m sorry, love.” His voice, as smooth as ever, brought your thoughts back to the situation at hand. All you managed was the weak shake of your head, willing your wet eyes to dry out before you lost hold of what little dignity you had left.

How could you possibly cry? You wondered miserably.

If you had only listened to the whispers in the back of your mind, you’d have seen this coming, foolish girl. You scolded yourself mentally.

“Don’t be.” You told him simply. Regaining your composure long enough to make it to the exit of the room, you spared the boy one last glance, he was looking at you then, brown eyes cloudier than you’d ever seen them.

What would he have to be sad about? This had been his choice, after all.

With a steadying breath you left the room, uttering an almost pathetic, “Look after yourself, Georgie.”

Only when he was sure you were truly gone did he allow his tears to fall, he hadn’t wanted to end things with you, not really.

It was for the best though. Tensions were high in Hogwarts at the minute, with Umbridge’s take over of the school putting everyone on edge. George knew well enough that the pink sporting she devil wouldn’t take too kindly to the prestigious, pure-blooded, princess of Slytherin embroiled with the likes of him. A supposedly lowly Weasley. A blood traitor.

Of course, status never mattered to you, or to your family for that matter. But it mattered to the new headmistress and George couldn’t bear the idea of putting you on the wretched witches radar knowing that he and Fred would be leaving you before the end of term.

He hadn’t expected it to be so bloody hard though. He thought he’d breeze through it with the thought process of “it’s only temporary”, as he’d initially intended. His plans for a temporary reprieve were hushed the second he saw your heart shattering right before his eyes.

You should’ve known really, you can’t just break up with the girl you’ve been completely in love with since third year out of nowhere. Merlin, you’ve really done it this time, haven’t you? She must think you’re a right tosser.

He reprimanded, the words trapped in the confines of his muddled mind.

His sadness turned to anger as it dawned on him, he’d just let you go and for what? Merlin, his mother was going to kill him.

Molly Weasley absolutely adored you, George recalled the first time he’d introduced you to his family. You’d been so nervous, it wasn’t every day a Slytherin found themselves in the midst of mostly Gryffindors.

Of course, yourself and George were just friends at the time. Fred had been the one who had begged you to visit the burrow as a matter of fact.

George cringed at the thought of the letter he’d surely be getting from his mother when she got wind of what he’d just done.

Overcome with frustration, George lifted himself from the arm of the chair and began storming through the stone halls in search of you. The conversation, if you could even call it that, hadn’t gone the way he planned.

He’d planned to sit down with you, talk you through his thought process and then hopefully you’d promise each other to rekindle your love in six months after you graduated.

Obviously that’s not how it ended up going. He’d screwed it up completely, he’d frozen on the spot and suddenly he’d forgotten everything he had planned to say.

He spotted you then, sluggishly moving down the corridor, small sniffles emitted from your retreating form and George jogged to reach you.

His large hand grasped your wrist, stopping you in your tracks, “Wait. Please.” His voice was strained, pleading.

Inhaling shakily you turned to face him again, the redhead tried his best to ignore your red rimmed eyes as he could already feel his guilt eating him alive as he held your wrist.

You didn’t speak. Just looked at him expectantly.

Carefully, his hand slipped from your wrist to your own hand, intertwining his fingers with yours.

“Can we talk?” You nodded wordlessly, allowing him to lead you wherever he intended to go.

The pair of you didn’t speak until you reached your destination. You found yourself standing in the privacy of the astronomy tower, hugging yourself to lessen the chill you felt when George released your hand, you stared at him expectantly, praying that you wouldn’t cry anymore.

“I didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did.” He confessed while taking a calculated step closer to you, acutely aware of your habit of simply walking away if you felt as though you were being ridiculed. It was a characteristic that he loved about you, you didn’t take anyone’s shit, including his. Which is why he wanted to keep a close proximity, knowing that there was a very real possibility that he’d say the wrong thing and you’d tell him to shove it.

“First of all, I love you. I don’t want you thinking for a second that I don’t.” He couldn’t quite hold back his grimace as you shuddered and turned your face away, staring out at the view as opposed to at him.

With an aggressive sniff you blinked away the water forming in your eyes before meeting his gaze again, “Then what is this about then?” Your tone was demanding, the cold air making itself comfortable in your bones while you waited for an answer.

George took another step forward, the sound of your shaky voice sending a pang directly to his heart. Throwing caution to the wind, he grabbed hold of your arms, just above your elbows.

“I want to be with you more than anything, honest. But I can’t have you in Umbridge’s bad books because of me, especially when Fred and I will be gone in two weeks.” He tried his best to explain, his grip on you softening when he felt your body become less rigid, although you still shook slightly from the cold.

“Why didn’t you just tell me that in the first place?” You chastised him weakly, your lips turning downward as you realised he was right. Umbridge had been on your case since she had arrived, with being the top student in her house, she didn’t take kindly to your “fraternisation with the likes of them”.

He let out a sigh, tugging you gently to his chest, his long arms wrapped around you tightly. “Because I’m a knobhead.”

His words had obviously been intended to get a laugh out of you and he was pleased to confirm that it had worked when he heard the soft giggle leaving your lips.

You gave his shoulder a halfhearted whack, “Yeah, you are.”

“Are you still breaking up with me?” You asked, voice a whisper, arms tightly around his waist, afraid if you loosened your grip he’d disappear.

George chuckled at that, “I was never breaking up with you, love.” His lips met the top of your head before he continued, “I just think we should keep a low profile for a bit.”

“I hate it when you’re right.” Your grumbled, pulling away from his hold slightly to look into his eyes.

“I know this isn’t ideal… but we’ll get through it. I need you in one piece for our wedding, after all.” He teased, wiggling his eyebrows and causing you to bark out a laugh.

“One minute you’re breaking up with me and the next your banging on about marrying me? I’ll never understand you Weasley.” You reciprocated his teasing, eyes finally dry and shining a little brighter than they had been just a few minutes prior.

George lowered his face close to yours, your noses nudging together ever so slightly as his mouth, formed in a grin, hovered in front of your own. “I’ve got to keep you interested somehow, love.”

With that his lips met yours, his hands sliding up to cup your cheeks when you began to move your lips in unison with his and your own hands tangled in his ginger hair.

All too soon, he removed his lips from yours and rested his forehead on yours. “Maybe we should make up some code words.”

“Like what?” You entertained him, playing with the hair on the nape of his neck as he thought about possible code words.

“Right, how about this? When I say “ Merlin, you’re hard work”” he spoke, his hands leaving your cheeks to make air quotes and you watched him fondly as his hands moved to your hips, “That will mean. You’re bloody incredible and I wish I could snog you right here on the spot.”

Throwing your head back, you laughed, “Perfect.”

Then you paused, thinking for a response and then you bit back a smile, hands sliding to his chest pushing him away ever so slightly, “And when I say “Oh, come off it, Weasley” that will mean You’re a prat but I love you regardless.” A dopey smile crossed his lips.

“I’m choosing to ignore the part where you called me a prat.”

Innocently, you shrugged your shoulders, “You are a prat.” George scoffed at that, pulling you into his chest again, rocking your bodies together and lulling you into a sense of tranquility as your cheek rested against his chest.

He let out a long sigh, tightening his grip around you, muttering cheekily in your ear, “Merlin, you’re hard work.”

A small laugh left your mouth and you looked up at him with a half hearted glare, “Oh, come off it, Weasley.”

*

This ‘keep it on the down low’ plan was to put it plainly: dreadful. Acting as though you and George had broken up didn't do too much to keep Umbridge off your back. What it did do however was have, what seemed like every girl in the entire castle, crowding around your boyfriend in hopes of being the next one to catch his attention.

He entertained them all with charming smiles and false niceties, more often than not passing them over to Fred, who basked in the new found attention.

Not that George was the only one being bombarded with love offers, you had your fair share of Slytherin boys sniffing around you over the last couple of days.

One boy had been particularly persistent though, and it was easy to see it was driving the youngest Weasley twin absolutely mental.

The boy in question was currently sat beside you at the Slytherin table in the great hall, doing his very best to keep you interested in what he was saying.

“I don’t know if I mentioned it earlier, but I’m sorry to hear about you and Weasley.” He told you, his voice uncharacteristically shy.

You supposed you shouldn’t be so curt with him, as far as Slytherin boys went Adrian Pucey was probably the kindest of the lot. With a small sigh you turned to the Slytherin chaser and gave him your best fake sad smile, “Thanks, Adrian.”

The boy cleared his throat and you couldn’t help but notice the flush beginning to form on his cheeks, Merlin he is going to be upset when he realises you're not really available.

“If you ever want to talk about it I’d be more than happy to listen.” He offered up kindly, his kindness wasn’t necessarily out of the ordinary, the pair of you had always been friendly with each other, but your perception told you that Adrian was definitely hoping for something a little more than friendly to come of this situation.

Giving him another small smile you nodded your head, deciding to cut the poor boy some slack, “I appreciate that. It’s been pretty strange honestly, feels like every girl in school is lining up to take my place…” You trailed off, eyes landing on George who was sat at the Gryffindor table, a fifth year Hufflepuff girl sitting way too close to him for your liking, twirling her hair and you let your eyes roll at the sight.

Adrian followed your gaze before giving you a sympathetic look, “He doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that left you at that, you returned your gaze to him, giving him an expectant look, “You seem more upset than I am.” You pointed out, trying not to smile at the furrow in his brow.

Adrian looked away from you towards George who was now laughing with Lee, the Hufflepuff girl now long gone, shrugging his shoulders lightly he began to speak his eyes never leaving the red headed Gryffindor, “The pair of you were great together. I just don’t see what he could possibly want that you couldn’t offer… if you ask me he’s a right idiot for letting you go.”

George was looking in your direction now, his jaw set in a tight clench as he watched Pucey playfully bump his shoulder against yours. Why on earth were you smiling at something Adrian Pucey said?

You caught his gaze from across the room, sending him a sad smile then turning back to the Slytherin beside you, keeping in character as you were very aware of Umbridge’s eyes on you and what she would consider an eligible bachelor.

“Yes well, you know how Gryffindors are. Don’t often think before they act.” You told him, pushing yourself away from the table and collecting your things.

Adrian nodded in agreement, quickly standing up too, “Um, I was wondering if you were after a new potions partner?” He asked quickly, voice shaking ever so slightly with nerves.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you glanced towards George- your usual potions partner desperately, turning back to Adrian you reluctantly nodded your head, you’d need a new partner in a week or so anyway. “Sure.”

Seeming pleased with your answer the brown haired boy sat back down and smiled happily as he watched you leave the hall.

The evening was drawing to an end as you found yourself on the balcony of the astronomy tower, eyes set on the sunset, your body leant comfortably on the railing in front of you.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the future Mrs. Pucey.” Came the voice you’d recognise anywhere, his tone teasing.

Without looking away from the view you chided him playfully, “Don’t be jealous, Georgie. Or should I say Hogwarts’ most eligible bachelor?”

You let out a content sigh as George wrapped his arms around you from behind, leaning his chin on your shoulder and placing a delicate kiss to the curve of your jaw, “I quite like that title. But I’d prefer to be known as your future husband.” He shot back cheekily, placing a flurry of kisses against your neck making you giggle joyfully.

As you threw your head back, your laughter was silenced by his lips catching your own in a passionate kiss, his hands moving to your hips to flip you around to face him, your back pressed against the railing now as you looked up into his eyes.

“That’s all I’ve been thinking about all day.” He admitted, his hands sliding up and down your sides gently as you slid your own around his shoulders.

You hummed approvingly, pulling him towards you and placing your lips against his again, tongue moving against his as his hands gripped your hips. When you pulled away, he chased your lips, pressing short kisses to them while simultaneously pressing his body closer to yours.

“Bet Pucey wouldn’t be able to kiss you like that, eh?” George smirked cockily and you let out a breathy laugh.

Matching his energy, your hands slipped up his neck and you let them get tangled in his hair, you raised an eyebrow, “I could always go and find out… how much are you willing to bet, Weasley?” At your challenge, his lips returned your neck, dragging along the sensitive skin and making your stomach flip.

George’s lips paused right at your ear, his voice gruff and low as he whispered, “No amount of galleons would tempt me if it meant you’d be kissing that git, darling.”

“Stop, you’ll make me swoon.” You joked dryly, tugging softly on his long hair causing him to detach from your neck.

His forehead met yours as the sun finally retreated, leaving just you, George and the stars in the darkness of the tower.

“You know, you could always run away with me. Then we could go back to snogging whenever we want and that old cow wouldn’t be able to punish either one of us for too long.” You could tell he wasn’t truly joking despite the tone of his voice, you released a sad sigh, running your hands through his hair, your nails scratching his scalp the way you knew he liked.

“Mm, but imagine how incredible it’ll feel when we reunite at graduation.” He let out a small puff of air against your face, tightening his arms around you.

It was then that a worry crossed your mind, would he and Fred even bother showing up? Ron wasn’t graduating until next year, Ginny in two, so there would be no family members there for them to see. But surely they’d show up to see Lee?

“You’ll come won’t you? To graduation?” You wondered out loud, his hands rubbing soothing circles into your hips as he sensed your nerves.

He pressed his lips to your forehead and hugged you close, “Freddie and I wouldn’t miss it for the world, love.”

“If I don’t see you there I’ll hex you both.” You promised, snuggling into his embrace.

George let out a small chuckle, hand running down your hair with a content smile, “I don’t doubt it.”

*

All too soon, Fred and George disappeared from Hogwarts in a blaze of lights and explosions and you couldn’t have been prouder of them. With the ambition those boys had you sometimes questioned how they weren’t placed in Slytherin.

You’d managed to stay on Umbridge’s good side for the most part, you’d become quite close with Adrian too, but to avoid leading him on you’d fed him a story about how you were still mad about George and that you were sure he’d only broken up with you so it wouldn’t hurt you so much when he left, he accepted it far more gracefully than you’d expected and continued to be a great friend to you despite knowing you weren’t interested in anything romantic.

There was only a week left until you graduated from the school you’d called home for the past seven years and you’d managed to make it this far with no detentions with Umbridge and her favourite quill.

You were so close.

It’d been a long day of classes and you were on your way back to the Slytherin common room, Adrian by your side when you’d come across the scene.

Some of the fifth years were crowding a scared looking fourth year, you let out a low growl as you recognised Ginny to be the girl cornered by Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle. Throwing all your previous caution to the wind you stamped towards the scene, wrapping an arm around the youngest Weasley’s shoulder and pulled her into your side protectively.

“What do you three little demons think you’re doing?” You seethed, checking Ginny over for any injuries only to find she had tears pooling in her eyes.

It was no secret that you adored the Weasleys. You’d visited the burrow six Christmases in a row and Molly has never failed to send you an owl with a present attached on your birthday. It was also no secret to the family, even George, that you’d both kill and die for little Ginny. When she’d been taken to the chamber of secrets in her very first year you’d nearly popped a blood vessel worrying about her and very nearly ended up petrified while looking for her. Your fake break up with George hadn’t changed how you felt about the family.

Malfoy scoffed, turning his nose up to you, “What’s it to you, you’re just as bad as them. Filthy blood traitor you are.” It was then Adrian stepped in, clamping a hand down on the blonde’s shoulder.

“I’d watch your mouth if you’re looking to play in the final game on Saturday.” The chaser spoke lowly, his threat scaring the younger boy only slightly.

“Oh you’re such a big hard man, Draco.” You laughed mockingly, you’d known him since he was in nappies due to the fact that your mother and his were quite close up until recent years.

Pushing Ginny gently into the grasp of Adrian who had again moved to be standing by your side, he gave her a kind smile and you nodded reassuringly and that was all she needed to go willingly to Adrian.

Now that Ginny was out of the line of fire you squared up to the spoiled brat in front of you, you were anything but intimidated by him, it was high time you gave him a little reminder of exactly why you’d been named the Princess of Slytherin for so many years.

You were never mean for no reason. In fact, everyone believed you’d been misplaced at first. That was until half the student body had watched you absolutely verbally obliterate a Ravenclaw two years above you after he’d called you a slut. You had been absolutely ruthless. Nobody dared to speak badly of you or your friends as you proved on several occasions that you’d not hold back in retaliation. It seemed that little Draco needed a reminder of this.

“You’re so cool. Bullying girls…” You told him dryly, smirking wickedly as he swallowed harshly when Crabbe and Goyle had the good sense to take a few steps back, you raised an eyebrow lowering your voice and forming your lips in a pout, “Tell me, Draco, is your daddy proud of you? Or have you yet to catch his attention?”

Draco fumed then, huffing and gritting his teeth, by now there was a small crowd forming and Ginny had retreated into the arms of Ron, another one of George’s siblings that you simply adored.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He spat out, venom lacing his words, only egging you on further.

The grin on your lips only widened and your eyebrow rose higher, “Oh? Because the last time I checked” You lowered your voice so only he could hear before going on, “He’s missed your birthday for the last three years.”

His face turned red and he lunged. Shouts came from the crowd and you considered your options, were you really, as a seventeen year old, about to fist fight a fifteen year old prat with daddy issues? You got your answer in the form of Draco connecting his first to your jaw and busting you lip. The fifth year being restrained by Adrian and Ron, both of whom looked like they were going to fight him themselves.

The crowd watched with bated breath as you dabbed a finger under your cut lower lip. Noticing the blood that now painted your finger you let out a humourless laugh and tilted your head to the side.

You were absolutely about to fist fight the fifteen year old with daddy issues.

Just as you realed your fist back, a voice that met your ears like nails on a chalkboard sliced through the jeers of the crowd, “What is going on here?”

Umbridge screamed when she took in the scene. And you’d be the first to admit it looked bad. Draco with his hands being restrained by a seventh year and your fist in the air, there was absolutely no question about what was going on.

“Why Ms.(L/n)! My office this instant!” She seethed but you could tell she was biting back that horrid grin of hers. She’d been waiting for a reason to lock you in detention with her before you left.

You didn’t bother arguing with the women as she glared at Adrian, Ron and Draco.

“Pucey, Weasley let the boy go. I will deal with the three of you later.”

She motioned for you to follow her and you obliged, sighing softly when the voice echoed from behind you, “My father will be hearing about this.” He couldn’t quit could he? Seeing as you were already in trouble, you continued walking but turned your head over your shoulder and gave him a look of agreement, “Yes Draco he’ll be hearing, but will he really be listening?”

*

“You have been soiling the good name of Slytherin for far too long, positively whoring yourself out to that Weasley boy.” Umbridge had been criticising you for what felt that hours, watching intently as your hand bled as you wrote.

Not too bothered you let her go on her little rant as you write out your line: house embarrassment, her words stung far less than the growing wound on your hand.

The women took a deep breath as she continued, “A bright girl like you should be putting her talents to good use not entertaining the likes of blood traitors.”

It took everything in you to bite your tongue and refrain from stabbing her with her own enchanted quill. It was funny how you’d ended up in that position really, not because of George but because of his little sister.

“I had half a mind to hold you back. But you’d only get in my way. Consider yourself lucky.” She shut up after that, obviously growing bored of your lack of response she relieved you after another half an hour.

When you got back to the dungeon Adrian was sat waiting for you, a tired smile on his face, “You’re ridiculous.”

“Oh how your words injure me.” You jested, flopping onto the sofa, dropping your feet into his lap.

He patted your shin with a chuckle, “How’s the hand?”

You wiggled your bloody hand at him and he winced, “Merlin, (Y/n)...” It looked at lot worse than it felt.

You only shrugged, a dazed smile on your face, “My only regret is not getting a punch in.”

“That Ginny girl is quite worried about you. Kept saying how George was going to prank her so badly for getting you in trouble.” Pucey told you, laughing lightly when you sighed dreamily at the mention of the twin you loved.

“I’ll protect her.” You murmured, thoughts trailing off, “Did I tell you he’s coming to graduation next week?” Adrian nodded, soft smile on his face.

“D’you reckon a reconciliation is on the cards?” He asked teasingly, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Mimicking his eyebrow movements you nodded with determination, “No doubt about it, mate.”

He barked out a laugh, pushing your feet off his lap and standing up, “Save me the details, a man’s heart can only take so much.”

With a wicked smile you watched as he walked towards the dorm stairs, “So are you going to tell that Ravenclaw girl you fancy her before the end of the week?” He went rigid then, blushing furiously as you laughed.

“How’d you find out about that?” He whined miserably.

Just like earlier, you wiggled your eyebrows at him, “Saw you snogging at the back of the library.”

Adrian groaned, grabbing a cushion from the armchair by the stairs and chucked it at you, “Why’d you ask if you already knew?”

You placed your uninjured hand over your chest and faked hurt before it morphed into a triumphant grin, “Thought it’d be fun to rile you up considering you didn’t think to tell me.”

Adrian shook his head before finally heading up the stairs, “Don’t stay up too late.”

*

The days until graduation flew by and before you knew it you and the rest of your year were shouting in delight, a few even crying.

“(Y/n)!” Lee’s voice caught your attention and you met him with a bright smile and squeezed him tightly when he pulled you into a hug, “Come on, the twins are here!”

Being Fred and George’s best friend, Lee knew all about your fake split, never shy to tell you how utterly stupid he thought the whole thing was. But it didn’t matter anymore because the jig was about to be up. Finally.

Eagerly, you followed Lee through the crowd, rushing ahead of him when you locked eyes with George.

When the pair of you collided it was as if you’d never been apart. Your hands immediately tangled in his hair as he lifted you from around the waist, spinning you around excitedly before placing you down but keeping his arms around you

“Merlin, I’ve missed you.” He whispered lowly into your ear, you pulled your lip between your teeth, and leaned away to look at him fondly.

“Hi.” You whispered, a huge grin on your face.

“Hello.” He whispered back, the look on his face nothing short of enchanted when he studied you for the first time since he left.

Without another word you used your grip on his hair to bring his lips to yours, kissing him softly through your smile as you heard Ginny giggling from her place beside Molly.

George grumbled at the short length of the kiss, settling for holding you hard and leaning down to whisper, “You’re hard work, my love”

With a laugh you pecked his cheek adoringly, staring deeply into his eyes as you murmured with a shit eating grin, “Come off it, Weasley.”

[pandoras-princess]

Next Best Thing (Tommy Shelby x fem!reader, John Shelby x fem!reader)

*gif not mine//credit to owner

A/N: Hello my lovelies! 🌸 Welcome to my first ever Peaky Blinders fic, I wrote it ages ago and have just edited it slightly so my apologies if the quality isn’t greaaat but the other parts will be better I promise! 😅 This is an AU fanfic where John never married Martha or had kids before he married Esme and there is no Grace for Tommy andddd the timeline is absolutely wack, I know it’s a lot so if you’re in the market for a traditional by the book Peaky Blinders fic this one is not for you I’m afraid 🤗 also if you’re finding it a bit slow I advise you to hang in there until after the time skip because that’s the better half of this part in my opinion, nevertheless I seriously enjoyed writing this so Happy Reading Peoples! 🥳🥳 as ever I appreciate every like, reblog and follow, feedback is forever welcome 😌

Summary:  Being the bestfriend of Jonathan Shelby meant that you’d grown up attached at the hip. And considering you were hopelessly in love with him, life was eventful to say the least. With John marrying Esme you decide it’s high time you got over him. And as they say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else...

Pairing: (OOC) Thomas Shelby x fem!reader, John Shelby x fem!reader

Warnings: Swearing, violence, smoking and drinking, mentions of addiction, mentions of sex but no smut I’m afraid

PART TWO PART THREE PART FOUR

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Being John Shelby's best friend was definitely not an easy job.

You and John were the exact same age, born on the same day of the same month of the same year, precisely one hour and eleven minutes apart, and since your family only lived one house away from the Shelby's it was a given that you and John would grow up to be best friends.

You were as good as family to them, so when your father was killed in the war and your mother unable to cope turned to the drink and drugs, you were left officially orphaned at age 10 and Polly arranged for you to live with them, raising you as her own.

Growing up with the Shelby's came with it's challenges. They were all fiercely protective of you but no one more so than John. When you were kids he'd beat up anyone that dare made you cry, or sad or angry or anything other than happy really, and as you grew older and began to date he'd scare away anyone deemed not up to scratch, which seemed to be pretty much all of them, threatening violence known around Small Heath as common behaviour for the Peaky Blinders. This meant that you never really had a boyfriend, or many boys interested in you at all for that matter, and any who were rarely had the balls to act on it for fear of the Peaky Blinders wrath. However this didn't bother you much as there was only ever one boy you truly wanted interested in you, the one boy who never would be interested in you.

Of course being a teenage girl you'd had your silly crushes, Tommy being one of them. But they all paled in comparison to what you felt for John.

Being best friends meant that the two of you spent practically all of your time together, did everything together, went through and dealt with everything together. He had always been your shoulder to cry on, your ear to bend, your hugs and smiles and laughs, your safe place. It was inevitable that you'd fall for him. And fall for him you did, painfully obvious to everyone except John himself.

Shortly after your 16th birthday, you were reading a book by the fire, a woven blanket strewn across your legs and a steaming mug of hot chocolate warming your hands when John bursts into the house loud, drunk and jolly. He often snuck out to join his brothers in their shenanigans - whether it be business or pleasure - and you were all too happy to listen to his stories when he came home.

You watched John intently as he regaled to you his latest night out. You watched the corners of his mouth twitch ever so slightly as he spoke, a smug smile tracing his lips every so often. His eyes glistened from the whiskey and his lips were wet. A cigarette clasped lazily between his fingers, his eyes closed for a split second whenever he took a drag. Deep in admiration of the boy sitting in front of you, you didn't quite notice the change of events in the story.

"-and then she walked right up to me and kissed me!"

It was at that point that your attention snapped back, ears pricking up and heart racing as you go over what he'd just said. But too excited to wait, John didn't give you the chance to work out if you had misheard him.

"Well before I know it she's got me in the back alley dress hiked up going at me like a feral she was. Can ya believe it after all this time I'm finally a man aha!" John exclaims, a goofy, ear-splitting grin plastered on his face.

He spares any explicit details, knowing it was no way to talk with a lady no matter how close they are to you or how drunk you may happen to be. Nevertheless, upon hearing those final words coupled with the look of pure elation on his face, your heart shatters into millions of ice cold shards right before your eyes. The pain that was rapidly building in your chest and the image of John with some tart, skirt bunched around her waist fucking like dogs in the alley was too much for you to bear. A wave of nausea washes over you and you stand abruptly, dashing to the loo before the contents of your stomach emptied onto the carpet.

A few minutes later you hear faint knocks on the door.

“Ye alright in there love?” John asks, concern lacing his words.

“All good” you reply quickly, willing your voice to steady itself.

Wiping the sheen of sweat from your forehead you collapse into a heap against the wall, and a sigh escapes your lips as you wrack your brain for the exact moment you had lost him. While John had never shown any signs of liking you, you were always able to draw hope from the relationship you two had, no matter how blind it may have been. Now though, he had dashed that hope, blind or otherwise, as he had given himself to someone else. He had openly chosen not to be with you.

Not to be yours.

Fobbing John off with some excuse about a dodgy dinner you quickly retreat to bed, going without giving him a hug, unable to bring yourself to touch him. And from that day onwards you lived with the knowledge that your love was unrequited. You lived with loving him, and him not loving you.

For the most part it was rather easy. John wasn't the kind for serious relationships - preferring causal sex to the committed kind - so you never really had to deal with any girlfriends or the lark, just the occasional tart interested in him on the rare nights out you tagged along. Even then, you soon learned not to go on any nights out without Ava or Polly present and so the issue of John and his women quickly became dormant. That was, however, until John agreed to marry Esme Lee.

Tommy came to you before asking John, asking for your help in convincing him. He knew John would come to you with it asking for advice before deciding. Tommy explained his plan, marry John off to the Lee girl forcing them to squash the war and join forces to overthrow Billy Kimber. It was simple enough and since you'd already accepted there was never to be a you and John, you agreed.

The time came and sure enough John came to you, confused and somewhat annoyed at Tommy's rough handed approach, and sure enough you stayed true to your word, telling him it was nothing new, people had arranged marriages all the time.

So on he went to marry her, your true feelings unknown to the man.

[2 years later]

"You shouldn't be working here you know. John certainly wouldn't like it" Tommy said, a smile tugging at his lips as he watched you carefully wipe down the bar surface. He was referring to your new job as barmaid in the Garrison and having just finished your first shift you were cleaning up. Last orders had been and gone and every punter had now left the pub, drunk and merry on their ways.

After John married Esme you spent the next two years much to yourself. You embraced the spinster lifestyle and faded away into the passing days. However it was the turn of a new year and to everyone's joy you'd come to your senses, deciding it was high time you stopped wasting your life moping after John. He didn't love you - that much was clear - but somebody out there must and so it was time for you to move on, you thought. Reinvent yourself. This 'new you' started with marching into Tommy's office and demanding the new barmaid job. Surprisingly he offered no resistance, merely a quizzical look at your sudden determination before giving you the job. So here you were, your first shift done and nobody left in the place but you and your new boss.

"Well it might surprise you to know, Mr Shelby, but I don't abide my decisions by what John would or would not like me doing" you reply. Finishing up you leave the cloth on the bar and make your way over to the table, taking the chair adjacent to his.

"Is that so?" He asks, his piercing blue eyes meeting yours as he offers you a cigarette. You accept, bending down slightly to the offered flame and without breaking eye contact, you light the cigarette and take a drag, exhaling as you sit back up.

"Yes, Thomas, that is so" you reply, the use of his name making clear your exasperation with the questioning.

"Very well then, a toast-" he picks up the bottle of whiskey and pours some into each glass, placing one in front of you and taking one himself "-to your new job, and to your new found freedom" he says, locking eyes with you on his last words and clinking your glass before you both down it. If growing up with the Shelby's had taught you one thing it was how to hold your liquor.

Soon you and Tommy were halfway through the bottle and quite drunk, too caught up in the fun to notice. It was now something past 3 in the morning; you and Tommy had been talking, drinking and laughing for nigh on 3 hours now, going through old stories of your childhoods, stories from before you were born and from afterwards, stories of your parents and stories of his.

"So tell me, what is the meaning behind this sudden change in you then?" Tommy inquired, only too happy to see your old self back again.

Before you knew it the whiskey had gotten the better of you and you found yourself telling him the reason. You told him about John, about your love for him, about that night and about how you'd come to terms with it and decided to move on.

"Besides, it's not like he was the first boy I ever liked, so I'm quite sure he won't be the last" you state matter of factly, unaware of the storm you had just brewed.

See, unbeknown to you, Tommy was fully aware of everything you had just poured out to him. He knew about your love for John. He knew the deepest parts of your heart, your mind, your soul. Every crush and fling you'd ever experienced Tommy knew all about it, thanks to a little book you liked to keep hidden under your mattress. You had been detailing all matters of yourself in that little black journal for as long as you could write. Polly happily replacing it when you found your current one full, it was much easier than finding a shoulder to cry on every time you needed one. When Tommy came across it he had no idea what it was, merely out of curiosity did he open it and start reading.

"Oh, who was?" Tommy asked, lighting another cigarette. Following suit you decide to take a minute to weigh up your options, drinking in the smoke as you did.

"You” your voice remains deceptively steady, not wanting the man watching you so closely, so attentively, to become aware of the raging swarm of butterflies occupying your stomach.

"Is that so?" Tommy pulls on his own cigarette, the smoke rising from his lips as his eyes lock onto yours. "So what changed then?" His eyebrow arches perfectly, a smirk gracing his lips.

"You're 4 years older than me! There was no way you'd ever look at me as anything other than an annoying little sister!” You say in a chuckle, the fiery whiskey encompassing all of your thoughts in a humorous glow.

"And if I told you I do look at you as something other than an annoying little sister?" His eyes flick to your lips for a millisecond before returning to your own (E/C) orbs. If you’d have blinked you would’ve missed it, but your full attention being fixed on the man before you meant that you hadn’t.

"Well... that would certainly change things." The possibility of one of your fantasy's coming true ignited you to your very core.

Silently, Tom rises from his seat and offers his hand to you. You take it, and he leads you to his office with the worst of intentions in mind.

[otptings]

Life Goes On

→Idols: Wong Kunhang & Xiao Dejun

→Requested: Yessss Hi!!! I’m a new follower and literally fell in love with your writing ^o^ May I request an angsty right person at the wrong time scenario with either Xiaojun or Hendery, thank you!

→Genre: Right Person Wrong Time, angst, fluff

→Word Count: 2.7k+

→Warnings: self degradation, implied cheating, Hendery's an asshole, Xiao's a savior, kinda self indulgent (apologies)

→Synopsis: Life's not far. You either have to learn how to swim or drown in your own misery.

→A/n: I honestly surprised myself when I finished this cause I'm actually behind on a couple requests but I really enjoyed writing this. I hope you enjoy reading this, and if you did please like, reblog or donate to my Ko-Fi in my bio. Requests are open for NCT, Enhypen, SVT, and Treasure.

Life isn’t fair, and it isn’t always right. Things don’t end the way you want them to, and no amount of begging or wishing or sacrificing will change fate. So you can only sit there, watch as life moves on without you in it. You either learn how to swim or drown in your own misery.

You swam.

Wong Kun-Hang, you’re child-hood bestfriend. The two of you met long ago. Back when the biggest problems were early bedtimes, or begging your parents for the newest toys. When scraped knees and torn tights were a constant part of your life. In the 2nd grade when he was the new kid, you were too nervous to talk to him so you gave him a special Valentine’s Day card, the one with the carton fish with the really funny joke on it that made you giggle while you were placing various heart stickers on it, accompanied by two pieces of candy instead of one. One of your parents had helped you sign it specially with your name, not just your initials. Although it was scribbled it was still readable. You were nervous walking up to his desk, fixing your school uniform as best you could before shyly handing it to him, trying to hide the heat that was rising in your cheeks and ears.

“Hi.” Kun-Hang looked up at you, a look matching yours on his face. You saw his paper bag for his cards was bare, Kun-Hang covering the front of it in the teacher’s cursive due to him not having time to decorate it. It was empty, devoid of any Valentines, and he hadn’t brought any to give out so he didn’t even have his own. It was sad compared to yours, filled almost to the brim with cute cards and candy.

“Hi.” Hendery’s voice was almost a whisper. He wasn’t prepared for anyone to talk to him, he had only been in your class for a week and hadn’t had enough time to make friends.

“I want to be your friend. Here’s a Valentine’s card.” Where you ignored the heat in your cheeks it was obvious to see Kun-Hang’s awkward smile adorning his face as his cheeks glowed a light red. It was too late to back down now, so you thrust the card out towards him and watched as he timidly took it before sending him a bright smile and scurrying off to your desk, the teacher’s voice telling the class to calm down.

You looked towards the teacher, patiently waiting for their instruction while Kun-Hang only looked at you, awe in his eyes while replaying the moment you walked up to.

Years have gone by since that fateful day that you handed him the card and declared that you wanted to be his friend and you’re still just as close. The day after Valentine’s Kun-Hang stayed by your side faithfully, sitting beside you at lunch and playing with you and your friends at recess. At first he was still awkward, not knowing just where he fit into your life, but everytime you held your hand out to him or handed him a spare cookie from your lunchbox he got a little more comfortable until you were connected at the hip.

As the friend group gradually grew smaller due to everyone else moving away or transferring schools, you and Kun-Hang stayed together, evolving into something more than just childhood best-friends. Shared cookies turning into something else just as sweet, innocent pecks when you thought no one else was watching, holding hands having a new meaning when he pulls you under the bleachers of your high school during your share P.E. class to hold you close  as he whispers his feelings for you. He was your perfect love story, your first and only boyfriend. Even now at 20, watching him live his dream life as an idol you still have the same feeling from the first time you met him, that bashful shy feeling as you watching him smile on stage and during fanmeets. The pretty diamond ring on your finger glinting in the various strobe lights they use for their concert, a comforting weight that makes your heart flutter when you think about the day that the two of you will get married.

Life always throws a wrench into pretty plans don’t though.

“It’s just not working out with her.” Confusion filled your mind hearing Hendery’s voice through the phone. Calling out his name gave you no answer. “She’s so clingy, she refuses to back off and give me any space.”

“Aren’t you getting married?”

“I don’t think I can go through with it. I don’t want to leave her at the altar though.”

“I thought you guys were perfect for eachother? Haven’t you been together since middle school?”

“I know, I know. I don’t think I ever liked her in that way. She’s my only relationship but I just don’t see her in that light. She’s more like an annoying little sister than a girlfriend.”

“You’re a fucking douchebag Hendery.”

“I know. She really loves me, but I don’t think I ever saw her romanctically. She was the only option. I really don’t want to ruin the friendship, but I don’t love her.”

You don’t remember hanging up the phone. Or sending him the message.

You accidentally called me, you don’t have to be miserable just to make me happy. I’m sorry I couldn’t be good enough for you.

I didn’t want you to find out this way. I really do like you, you’re my best friend.

But you don’t love me the way that I love you

I’m sorry.

Don’t be sorry. Goodbye Hendery.

-

Hendery couldn’t ignore the smile that grew on his face, the heavy feeling over his chest lifting.

“What happened to you? Why are you so happy?” Ten questioned while chewing on the cookie he stole from Kun, slight concerned at how over the span of a half hour Hendery’s expression could go from forlorn over the thought of the wedding to ecstatic as he jumped up from the couch, staring at his phone that was clenched tightly in his hand.

“She broke up with me.” His smile grew impossibly bigger while Xiao’s face dropped. “I accidentally called her while we were talking and she said we don’t have to be together.” If Hendery wasn’t so busy cheering about his new found freedom he would’ve felt how the tensions rose in the room, or saw how Xiao looked at him with disgust as he slid his engagement ring off of his finger and tossed it on the coffee table. As if it meant nothing to him.

“So you used her?” An uneasy silence settled over the room while Yangyang made a quick exit, not wanting to witness anything. Hendery’s smile swiftly disappeared at Xiao’s accusatory tone. “And you’re celebrating your ‘freedom’ while she’s heart broken?” A cold chuckle punctuated his statement.

“I didn’t mean for her to overhear the conversation. But she broke up with me. If she’s hurt it’s her fault.” Hendery tried to plead his case, looking around at his other groupmates that were present but they refused to meet his eyes, all sharing Xiao’s sentiments on the situation. “I never wanted her to fall in love with me.”

Xiao couldn’t ignore the way that his fist shook hearing Hendery say that. He was already angered hearing how casually Hendery talked about his lack of feelings, no remorse evident in his voice. Clenching his jaw to hide the obscenities and curses that he wanted to spout on each of Hendery’s weekly rants about your relationship. But hearing just how casually he used you and didn’t care, that was Xiao’s last straw.

“So you fucking used her, and are now blaming it on her?” The room went stilent and the tension was so thick that you could cut it with a knife. Xiao walked closer to Hendery, crossing the coffee table that kept them separated. Then he threw the first punch.

No one was expecting it, hearing the crack when Xiao’s fist connected with Hendery’s nose. Hendery didn’t have time to recover enough to retaliate before Lucas was picking Xiao off of his feet and hauling him out of the room. “Fucking stay away from her or I’ll fucking kill you.”

-

Xiao knew that it was stupid to fall for you, even dumber since you were head over heels in love with Hendery, someone who didn’t deserve even an ounce of you. He knew that you would never see him in that light, naively hung up on Hendery, so he did the next best thing. Become your friend.

Sure, he knew that he was only a rebound, only truly talking to you whenever Hendery was too busy - ignoring you - to entertain you, so you turned to Xiao. He knew that there was never way you would love him the way that he loved you, but he didn’t care. He’d be whatever you wanted him to be, even if it was perpetually stuck pining after you.

That’s the only explainable reason as to why he snuck out of the dorm after receiving the text from you.

I need you Dejun

It wasn’t hard to leave the dorm, Sicheng and Ten were too busy worrying about Hendery’s nose and if it was broken or not. All Xiao had to do was slip out of the front door. He didn’t bother asking the manager for a ride, walking would do just fine. Your apartment wasn’t too far from the dorm, there was no sweat off his back. Until the clouds broke open and it started to rain profusely when Xiao was only a block away from your apartment.

That explains why you answered the frantic knocking at your door to be met with a soaking wet Xiao, hair plastered to his forehead from the rain and shirt appearing like a second skin.

“What the hell happened? Come in, hurry.” Moving to the side you quickly pulled Xiao inside, feeling guilty at the way that he shook from the cold.

“It rained a little bit.” Despite the pain in your chest, and your eyes burning from the amount of tears that you had shed you couldn’t help but giggle.

“That’s an understatement. I’ll get you a towel and some clothes so you can change.”

Twenty minutes later the two of you were awkwardly facing eachother. You’ve never truly hung out by yourself, the boys were always a buffer between the two of you. The teddy bear that you were clutching against your chest being the only thing to separate you, your light pink blanket seeming almost childish with Xiao sitting on it. The gigantic hoodie that you stole from your brother draped over his frame, almost drowning him in the sheer amount of fabric.

“Are you okay?” He was the first to break the silence, eyes finally meeting yours and softening out of compassion. The sight of him pitying you caused the tears to prick at your eyes, glancing down while you absentmindely played with the fraying ends of the blanket.

“Why would I be? Hearing that my fiance didn’t love me. I was a burden to him our whole relationship. An annoying little sister.” Letting out a joyless chuckle at the irony of it all, a fiance that saw you as a little sister. You hadn’t realized that warm tears were falling down your cheeks, darkening the light pink fabric where they hit, littering it with drops of magenta. “How was I so stupid? I should’ve seen it comer when he started staying at the studio later and later when there was no comeback. Was he even staying at the studio? Was there someone else?” You looked up at Xiao, trying to blink away the blurry vision to find any answer for the questions you desperately asked. Xiao’s hand came up to cup your cheek, wiping the tears away. The sweet motion caused you to let out a sob, launching yourself into Xiao’s arm.

Xiao’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you onto his lap. You couldn’t be bothered to feel awkward or uncomfortable at the strange position, only burying your face into the hoodie and letting your tears soak the fabric. Xiao sighed, biting back his own emotions as he listened to you choke on your sobs, feeling your body shake with every wretched wail that left your mouth. All because of Hendery. If it weren’t for you clutching onto the fabric of the hoodie so tightly that it could rip out of fear of Xiao leaving he might’ve gone back to the dorm and broken Hendery’s jaw.

“He never deserved you.” Swallowing to hide the way that his voice attempted to crack Xiao continued, “ You are the sweetest, loveliest, gentliest, and purest person that I have ever met in my life. You care for everyone and everything no matter how small or significant they may seem. You loved Hendery with your whole heart, and he didn’t deserve to ever see that side of you.” Your sobbing had dissolved into meaningless sniffles, eyes still wet with tears as you listened to Xiao’s words.

“He’s the only person I’ve ever loved. I thought he was the one.”

“He wasn’t right for you. You’ll meet someone who is.” Xiao bit back the confession that he desperately wanted to say. He knew it wasn’t the right time. The two of you sat in a comfortable silence until the sounds of your stomach grumbling caused Xiao to sadly move you from his lap so that he could order the two of you food.

The silence remained even as the two of you ate, quietly munching as the ramen noodles brought a warmth back to you, hands shaking slightly from the after-cry headache that plagued you. Xiao grabbed your empty containers and bottles, throwing them away before appearing in your doorway again, wet clothes now wrapped in a bag.

“It’s pretty late. I’m going to go home.”

“You can stay. If you want.” The silence between the two of you was no longer comfortable.

“I’ll stay.”

If only you knew just how long he would.

-

“I’m so proud of you baby.” You whispered in his ear as he carried you back to the bedroom, adrenaline from WayV’s most recent win still coursing through his veins, if the way that he unlocked the front door and picked you up had anything to say about it.

“Owe it all to you. Always supporting me.” Both of you giggled as he hovered over you, hands on either side of your head while yours ran down his back, before tugging at the bottom of his sheer shirt, prompting him to take it off and throw it on the floor.

“Technically you started this two years ago by staying.” Xiao rolled his eyes before leaning down, placing a sweet kiss on your lips, barely giving you enough time to savor it before he was pulling away. Poking your lips out Xiao obliged, placing one, two, three more kisses before pulling away.

“I’m in love with you.” This wasn’t the first time he’s said it, but this confession made you burn from the inside out all the same. Heat rising up your neck all the way to your ears while butterflies pranced around in your stomach. Xiao’s eyes held the exact same emotion that they had two years ago when you asked him to stay that you now had a name for. It was pure adoration, and devotion. Love in simpler terms.

“I’m in love with you too.” Tangling your fingers into his hair you pulled him down into another kiss, a searing one deeper than the previous ones you had shared. His hand coming up and cupping your jaw caused you to pull away from the kiss, a bright smile on your face as you whispered two words that caused Xiao to kiss you until the both of you had to pull away for air in fear of suffocating. “Thank you.”

Sometimes, the right one get’s away to let a better one in. Thank you Hendery, you taught me how to love so I could love Xiao properly.

[berjhawn]

Day & Night ~ Ch. 4 ~ The Truth

Bruce Wayne/Batman X Reader (Lady Light) X DC

Warnings: pain, loss, betrayal, disappointment, abandonment, ETC

(A/N) Please like, comment, and Reblog if you guys enjoy it. 

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

Bruce couldn’t help the worry that was filling his body. What did she need to talk about? He had texted her back after that but all she said was that it was important. His anxiety was through the roof, and he didn’t get anxious. Was it because he truly cared about (Name) and was worried about what would happen?

He stands at her door about to knock when arguing inside sends him into protect mode. Using his spare key, he opens the door up and rushes inside to see Connor and (Name) arguing. His brow furrowed as he caught the end of their argument.

“What do you mean you know?!” Connor inquires angrily.

“Exactly what I said.” She pauses for a moment before pain fills her eyes. “Connor, why do you think I left?”

“You mean you’ve known she did it all these years and you never tried to confront her?”

“What good would that do?” (Name) argues placing her hands on her hips.

“Clark deserves to know that he’s dating a liar.” Connor retorts and (Name) shakes her head.

“He knows.” Is all she says before she finally notices Bruce.

“I’m sorry for interrupting.” Bruce says pulling Connor’s attention to him.

“It’s fine. Connor, can you give Bruce and I a few minutes please.” (Name) asks her eyes avoiding Bruce’s.

“But mom?!” Connor argues.

“Please, we’ll talk about this later. I promise, I will explain everything then. Okay?” She offers and he nods.

“I’ll be outside.” Conner says glaring at Bruce as he walks past him and out the front door.

Once the two of them are alone, Bruce turns back toward her to see a pained expression on her face. Something was wrong.

“You okay?” He asks and she shakes her head.

“No, I’m not.” She replies and he goes to hold her, but she holds her hand out to stop him. “Please, don’t.”

All it takes is for her eyes to meet his and he knows she knows.

“Bruce, if you have been keeping anything from me, I need you to tell me now.” She pleads and his heart clenches.

“I have been keeping something from you.” He replies and her brow furrows. “Since Connor is here, I take it you already know.” She nods.

“I do, but I want to hear it from you.” She replies wrapping her arms around her waist.

“I’m Batman.” He states and he watches as tears threaten her eyes. “First, I want to say that day we met at your work and I asked you out. I didn’t know you were Lady Light. I just saw a beautiful warm woman and I wanted to get to know her more.”

“But you came to see me that night.”

“I wanted to make sure the girl I met in that restaurant got home safe.” He pauses a smirk filling his lips. “But you don’t need me to keep you safe.” He adds and she smirks.

“Damn straight I don’t.”

“When I found out you were Lady Light, I thought it would be for the best if we didn’t see each other again. You wanted no part of the league life and I respected that.”

“But?”

“But when I saw you that day sitting at the fountain, I knew I couldn’t walk away. I wanted to get to know you as Bruce. I wanted to be with you as Bruce.”

“Were you ever planning on telling me that you were Batman?” She asks and he takes a cautious step toward her.

“Yes.” He answers honestly and her body relaxes. “I should have told you sooner. You deserve complete honesty.”

“Complete honesty?” She asks and he nods. “Why did you avoid me when I first went to work for the league?”

“Because of Clark.”

“What do you mean?” She asks her arms folding over her chest.

“I saw how Clark looked at you. He fell for you hard when he first saw you.”

“And you didn’t.”

“I did,” He interjects making her eyes widen slightly. “That’s why I avoided you. I didn’t want to ruin a chance for both you and Clark to be happy.” She nods her eyes looking down. “But you weren’t happy.”

“I was for a time.” She replies taking a step towards him. “But who I became with him, it wasn’t me. I was trying to be like him to make him happy, but I realized that I needed to make me happy.”

“So, you left.”

“That’s one of the reason’s I left. The other…” She pauses as she lets out a heavy sigh. “Bruce, before I tell you this, I need to know how you feel about me. Was all of this just some elaborate scheme to keep and eye on me or?”

“I love you (Name).” Bruce announces his eyes focused on hers.

“It’s easy for people to say they love someone. It doesn’t necessarily mean that they really do.” (Name) replies tears stinging her eyes.

“I never say I love someone, when I don’t.” Bruce adds and she smirks.

“I know.” She concludes as she reaches up and wraps her arms around his neck holding him tight. Bruce wraps his arms around her waist and holds her close not wanting to let her go.

“Before we move on, I need to tell you my secret.” She says as she leans back but keeps him in her arms. “I take it you know about Connor?”

“I do.” He says and she nods.

“I guess I should start from the beginning then.” She says as she grabs his hand and pulls him over to sit next to her on the couch. Turning to face him she holds tightly to his hands as she uses him to give her strength.

“Back before Connor showed up, Clark and I were going through some issues. I could feel like he didn’t want to be with me anymore, but he also didn’t want to leave me. We argued a lot about the stupidest shit. We were at our breaking point when Connor showed up. He was just an innocent boy. He didn’t ask to be made. I knew from the moment he told me he was created from a piece of me, that he was mine.

“I became his mother and I never looked back or regretted it. Clark though, he had his own stupid issues and of course took them out on Connor. So, we argued about that. We argued a lot. It didn’t take me long to realize that there was something else going on.” (Name) pauses and Bruce can tell that this was hard for her to talk about.

“When Connor told me what Lex had told him, I went to Luthor Corp.” She states making Bruce’s eyes widen. “I had a feeling about how he got my DNA, but I was so hoping I was wrong.” Tears slowly start to fall down her cheeks making Bruce grip tightly to her hand as he offers her support. “I asked him how and he just came out and told me. It wasn’t like he had anything to lose by telling me.”

“How did he get it?” Bruce asks making her eyes meet his.

“It was given to him.” She answers and Bruce furrows his brow.

“Who gave it to him?” Bruce asks anger filling his voice. He was angry. He wanted to hurt the person who betrayed her.

“None other that Lois Lane.” (Name) states and Bruce sees red.

Bruce sat there for a moment confused before it all made sense. Clark and Lois had had an on and off relationship for years. They even had a son together. When (Name) showed up, their on and off again relationship stopped. Clark was devoted to being happy with (Name). Bruce remembered all the late night calls he got from Clark about how excited he was to finally move on with his life.

So, what had happened?

“Why did she do it?” Bruce asks and (Name) tilts her head at him.

“You believe me?” She questions surprise on her face.

“Why wouldn’t I? You would never lie.” Bruce says and she smiles sadly.

“You don’t know how much it means to me to hear you say that.” She says as she reaches up to wipe the tears from her eyes. “When I learned what she did, I told Clark. He called me a liar. Said Lois would never do something like that. But I saw the video. I saw her hand my hair over to Lex. When I tried to tell him this, he lost it, and I learned that day that he didn’t really love me.”

“He’s stupid.” Bruce says and she chuckles.

“It was only later that I learned that toward the end of our relationship he was also sleeping with Lois. That’s how she got her hands on my hair. They slept together on the bed I shared with him. I was broken, betrayed; I couldn’t stay there anymore.”

“Does anyone else know that it was Lois?” Bruce asks and I nod.

“Connor found out. That’s why he was here, and why we were arguing. He doesn’t understand why I won’t confront her about it.”

“Why don’t you?” Bruce asks his curiosity peaked.

“What good would it do?”

“It would give you closure.”

“It would, but if I lost my temper, I could hurt her. She’s normal. I’m not.”

“You would never hurt an innocent person.” Bruce adds and she smiles sadly at him.

“I wouldn’t intentionally. But my powers are unstable when I’m upset. What if I lose it and accidentally kill her? I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. I couldn’t hurt Jon or Clark like that.”

“You’re too kind for your own good.” Bruce says and she nods.

Letting out a heavy sigh he pulls her into his chest and lets her meld into his side.

“Thank you, for listening and believing me.” She says and he gently plants a kiss on her forehead. “After hearing all that, do you still want me?” She asks taking him back.

“Of course, I want you. Nothing you’ve told me or could tell me would change that.” Bruce replies and she lets out a sigh of relief.

“I love you, Bruce.” She says and Bruce smiles.

“I love you too.”

Bruce moves his hand up and down her arm therapeutically as his mind thinks about what to do now. Clark was his friend, one of his only ones. He needed to know the truth. It was surprising that Lois would stoop so low just to try and get Clark back with her. Clark didn’t deserve to be used and lied too. Bruce made a mental note to help his friend out and find those tapes. What Clark did after he learned the truth was up to him.

“I need to talk to Connor, and Damian.” She announces moving away from him.

“What happened with Damian?” Bruce inquires about his youngest.

“He was here when Connor showed up. I didn’t handle my emotions that well and when I found out that they knew who I was and that you were Batman, I felt a little betrayed and pushed him away. I need to fix that.”

“You’ll get your chance.” Bruce says and she nods. “I’ll talk to Connor.”

“Are you sure?” She asks and he nods.

“Why don’t you pack some clothes and stay with me tonight. You and Connor both. It will give you a chance to talk to Damian as well.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back.” She says as she walks into the other room.

“I’ll go get Connor.” Bruce announces as he walks out of the apartment and downstairs where Connor was waiting impatiently. When he notices Bruce, he narrows his eyes at him. “Tell me what you know about what Lois did.”

Will Continue - 

[connorinabeanie]

A slightly salty take on North and fandom

Disclaimer: Nothing in this post is meant as an attack on anyone. Fandom is subjective and you have the right to interpret media, form your own conclusions, and create whatever you want. These are my opinions about what I’ve seen, as well as my experiences in previous fandoms and the patterns I’ve seen play out over and over again. It’s okay to disagree with me, and it’s okay to have a respectful discussion in reblogs/comments! Just keep it civil. That out of the way…

North. She’s polarizing character in DBH; she tends to be loved or hated, and I’ll admit it: I didn’t like her at first either. I wanted to, but as I played through my first time I just couldn’t get past one of her traits in particular, which was that she was so convinced she was right; she blamed Markus for every mistake, refused to adapt her tactics or consider other methods, and seemed more driven by vengeance than anything else. So as much as I wanted to enjoy her character, I found her to be a poorly written “strong female character” archetype that fell flat in execution, as most characters of that type do.

Honestly, I think this is the reason most people who dislike North dislike her, at least consciously. They genuinely think she’s a terribly written character, and they’re not necessarily wrong. One playthrough on a standard route, with no extrapolation or extra consideration, combined with a lot of people getting the awkwardly forced romance (I actually avoided this, completely unknowingly, on my first playthrough) leads to a dislike of this character. That’s understandable! I would expect this from people who played the game once. But that’s where the problem comes in, for me.

People active in a fandom usually haven’t consumed the media they’re into just once. They usually don’t engage in surface-level interpretation, and they usually don’t lack context. But I find it hard to believe that so many of the opinions and interpretations regarding North could possibly come from people who have approached her character with an open mind and additional information, because just one major path divergence shows a completely different side to North’s character.

I’m talking, of course, about North’s leader route. When we see her in Markus’ role, leading instead of advising, her true motives come out: she loves her people and is willing to fight for them. She isn’t interested in playing nice with her oppressors, and why should she? There’s a whole discussion here about how oppressed people are judged for how nicely they fight for the rights they should already have, where there’s a ‘good’ way of protesting and a ‘bad’ way of doing it (which is, ironically and showing how tone-deaf Cage can be, supported in the narrative of DBH as well), but I won’t go into that in depth; other people have posted really good takes on this already. I’ll just mention it here and there where relevant.

Once of those relevant places is that, as I said, in North’s leader route she isn’t interested in peaceful protesting. And you know what? When I played this game the first time and had Markus, I had been peaceful up until Night of Soul, which is where North would be making her first major decision as a leader if you don’t have Markus. Yet when it came down to it I made the same decision with Markus that North makes on her own, because you know, as a Jewish woman, I wasn’t super interested in peacefully protesting at the gates of camps that were currently killing people. Playing nice hadn’t worked, and it was time to fight.

So maybe I’m in a different position that some others when it comes to interpreting North’s choices, and as I saw that she made the same choice that I did when playing Markus, I’m just… Not impressed that the fandom tendency to criticize this choice as warmongering, unreasonable, and a ‘betrayal’ of Markus’ peaceful actions (always assuming that Markus had been completely peaceful before, which is the way the story pushes on you, but certainly isn’t a given.) As far as I’m concerned, North is taking the action needed to save her people who are in danger right that instant, and humans don’t deserve a nice civil protest (and if I were in her position with Markus alive, I would be furious that he wanted to just sit and talk while people were dying.) They need to be stopped, and she’s going to stop them.

But it wasn’t just her choice in the church that brought me around to North’s side during her leader route, it was her behavior during Crossroads. Specifically, it was her behavior toward Connor, and how it contrasted with some of her actions earlier. So, going back a bit to Spare Parts, where the Jericrew goes on a mission to steal parts from the Cyberlife warehouses at the docks, and you run into John. North votes against taking him with them, citing that they can’t trust him and it’s too dangerous. Moving on a little, to Stratford Tower, if (or, more likely, ‘when’ since it’s pretty difficult to avoid) Simon is injured, North suggests shooting him. These are pretty harsh marks against her, because they seem needlessly ruthless, but are they really?

With John, the answer is maybe yes. But think about it from her perspective; they’ve never seen the ability Markus used, in turning an android deviant. So as far as North is concerned, John was a threat to them about two minutes earlier, and now wants to go with them? With no traumatic catalyst or trusted android vouching for and giving him the key to Jericho? To North John is a potential threat, a potential danger, and she has no reason to trust him. But as the story goes on, North never makes another objection to an android joining them in this way, because she knows they’re truly deviant. As soon as an android is deviant, they’re one of her people.

With Simon, the answer is probably no, because North is exactly right; if Simon lives, and Connor finds him, Connor finds Jericho. It’s that simple, and it’s not a rare series of events. North might be a little fast to jump on the option, because there’s a genuine argument to be made that it isn’t worth killing someone just because there’s a chance that something (even something very serious) might go wrong, but she clearly isn’t choosing this option because she wants it; she’s choosing this option because she thinks it’s the most guaranteed way to protect her people. It’s a difficult, ruthless decision to make, but it isn’t one made out of malice.

(It’s also worth noting that Simon suggests leaving North when she’s in danger in Crossroads, when the only people that would be at risk from saving her were Markus and Connor, and this happens whether or not North suggested killing Simon one the rooftop. Yet this choice is almost never criticized, because it comes from Simon, and I’ll get into that later.)

But with those particular attitudes from North out of the way, it’s interesting to see how she reacts to Connor in her leader route. North instantly shows concern for him, never blames him for the attack on Jericho, and—like Markus—tries to prevent him from going on his suicide mission to Cyberlife Tower. She’s kind and understanding, and it’s clear that she accepts Connor immediately as one of her people.

This is a place where I have some trouble with fandom interpretations of North and Connor’s relationship, specifically in terms of North being angry, cold, or extremely suspicious of Connor (a little suspicion, especially in a more ‘good end’ route where she has less direct interaction with Connor during the revolution, is reasonable; I’m talking about outright refusal to even consider accepting him.) It bothers me for two specific, and somewhat different reasons.

One is that it directly contradicts a theme of North’s history, which is that deviant androids are not their pasts. They’re not what they were before they woke up. The idea of North holding someone’s past, before they turned deviant, against them is just… I can’t imagine it. I can imagine her suspicion, as I mentioned before, until she's very sure Connor is truly deviant, but that seems very apparent to her right away in any route (I find it hard to believe she’d think he was faking deviancy after delivering the army to Markus.) Some concern or suspicion after finding out about the attempted hijacking makes sense, but the way I see it portrayed in fic is often jarring; it seems completely out of character for her to blame Connor for something like that, as opposed to being angry on his behalf, because North wants androids to be free (and, more deeply, she’s experience being used for something she never wanted.) She wants androids to have the chance to live, to become their own people, and to leave their pasts behind them. Why would she blame Connor for what he was made to do, whether before he was deviant or when Amanda tried to take control of him? It goes against everything North stands for, and that leads me to my second reason:

I think people choose this interpretation because it makes North a villain. Maybe it’s not an active conscious decision to do this (and in fact I doubt it usually is), but it reminds me very painfully of the trend in fandom of villainizing a character—especially a female character—in order to woobify a male character (and, often, get the female character out of the way of a ship) and I can’t help but see that here. It seems like a cheap, easy way to excuse other characters turning against North for her behavior, and therefore getting her out of the way as well as causing drama and conflict for the characters the writer really wants to focus on.

And that seems like a good segue into the big topic that people are gonna get mad about being called out on: misogyny. And even more specifically, misogyny when it comes to shipping.

I’m just gonna state this super clearly at the forefront: I have no problem with shipping whoever you want, whyever you want. I’m not personally into most ships for various reasons, but I do have some favorites (most of which other people aren’t into) and shipping is fun! Not everyone agrees on shipping, and that’s okay; not everyone has to like what you like, we can all still exist in harmony.

But that isn’t to say that people don’t engage in, for lack of a better word, ‘problematic’ behavior in their ships. As opposed to just going ‘hey, I like this, I’m gonna do it’, way too many people become obsessed with justifying their ship (and I think this comes from an underlying desire to ‘prove’ it’s canon or based in canon, as a way of making it seem more legitimate, which is a whole other topic I could rant about.) In the process of these justifications, and then often as a part of the fixation or obsession that some people develop about their ships/characters in their ships, any character or ship that ‘threatens’ someone’s favorite is a target that must be destroyed. And, in what I would say is arguably the vast majority of times, that threatening character is a canon female love interest.

Open bashing has (with good reason) gone out of fashion in fandom, so the way to get characters ‘out of the way‘ is to argue an unlikeable interpretation of them. I feel like this is what happens a lot of the time with North, and with the poor writing and flat portrayal of her character in the ‘good end’ route, it’s very easy for people to take the worst of her personality, say it’s canon, and then get rid of her. This is usually a bit side-eye worthy when it happens in any fandom, but it’s extra ridiculous in DBH for one very distinct reason:

North doesn’t have to be a love interest. As I mentioned before, when I first played through I never got the ‘lovers’ scene, because North said way back when Markus first met her that she didn’t want to talk about her past and so in the scene on the roof I just didn’t ask her (and I could write another whole discussion about how no means no and pressuring someone to tell you their past is NOT how to get a romantic option with them, but that’s an issue with another time.) The rest of the game progressed completely as normal, with the only changes being a lack of kissing options in a few later scenes. There’s no reason why fic writers can’t just choose this option for their fic’s canon, and move on.

And yet I can’t tell you how many times North is an obstacle that has to be overcome in order to get Markus with Simon or Connor (because let’s be real, North, Simon, and Connor are the only major ships for Markus even though Josh is RIGHT THERE, but again that’s another topic for another time.) It’s completely unnecessary, and yet there it is: North is this unreasonable, horrible person who is terrible to [insert love interest here] and Markus has to overcome this internal struggle to break free and be with [whoever] and truly be happy.

It’s such nonsense. It’s using this ‘undesirable’ female character as a source of drama and angst for this poor sad male character to have to deal with, as opposed to taking even a moment to treat the female character as a person who might have motivations, experiences, and emotions, and I’ve seen this over and over and over in every single fandom I’ve ever been in. This isn’t a North-specific thing, it’s a female character thing, and honestly if Kara’s storyline weren’t so separate from the fandom favorite shipping characters then I think the same thing would happen to her (as opposed to her existence just being entirely ignored.) This is such a pattern in fandom that I find it very difficult to believe this is a special case where it’s somehow legitimate.

One of those reasons is that the ‘justifications’ for disliking North tend to be complete double standards between North and whatever love interest the writer is going for, whether that’s Simon or Connor. With Connor, it’s extremely obvious; almost all of North’s negative traits are traits he has to some extent as well (ruthlessness, solving problems through violence, stubbornness,) but those traits are not only not usually treated negatively in Connor (and instead are depicted as justified and necessary in context, which I’m not saying they aren’t, but that it’s unfair to say that about him and not her) but often erased entirely, leading to the obnoxiously delicate, wilting flower version of Connor that shows up in so much fic. But again, an issue for another time.

For Simon, it’s less obvious because North and Simon are quite different, but not in opposite ways; North and Josh are opposites in many respects, but Simon is, in a sense, perpendicular to the line North and Josh are at opposite ends of. Simon doesn’t have particularly strong opinions about anything, just going with the flow and being supportive; his strongest opinions are about being cautious and not taking risks. Except, of course, for that scene I mentioned before, where he outright says they should just leave North to die. For such an overall bland character, that needlessly harsh moment stands out to me and I find it kind of amazing how it’s just completely ignored, often while holding it against North that she suggested shooting Simon on the roof.

So I guess the whole point of this rant is that I wish people would think more critically about North as a character, rather than a flat archetype, especially in the context of shipping. It’s cringey and painful to see blatant flanderizing of her character for the sole purpose of being ‘able’ to ship other characters together, whether to use her as an antagonist or just to get her out of the way, when it’s completely unnecessary to begin with. It’s also very obvious where someone’s priorities and biases lie when they’re happy to write North off but then obsess over other poorly written, bland, or even outright purposefully antagonistic characters that they deem somehow to have more potential and be more worthy of attention and character development.

Overall, there’s no requirement to like a character. It’s totally fine not to like a character. But double standards and needless demonizing of a character go far beyond not liking them, and it’s important to stop and think about why it might be happening. Is it always misogyny with North? No, I don’t think so, there are definitely people who don’t like her for her traits and that’s fine. But I think it’s very telling when someone who claims to dislike North for her personality and behavior then spends time in fan works purposefully making her a villain for the benefit of drama in their pet ship. It’s even more telling when someone who claims to dislike North for her personality and behavior, yet they celebrate the potential of characters that are canonically far worse (but who just so happen to be attractive men.) And, unfortunately, both of those situations coincide quite often with vocally disliking North, and there are only so many ways to interpret such a correlation.

[marta-bee]

Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary

Sherlockians, I want to talk about Mary. Or not about Mary the character, because enough words have been spent on that topic and I’m nowhere near brave enough to wade into that one on a snowy Sunday afternoon, but rather on the way we as readers can (perhaps should) relate to her. At some level what follows is about this Tumblr post, where an anonymous commenter asked for “any fics where Mary’s not the bad guy” and noticed that a lot of the evil-Mary fanworks “gets a bit misogynistic in my opinion”; but I’m also using that as something of a springboard, and don’t mean this as a direct reply to that post. (Which is why I’m not replying in a reblog; please everyone go check out that post and comment on it as well.)

Anyway, let me start with two basic points that I hope are pretty noncontroversial.

Mary is an antagonist, at least some of the time.

Mary has at least some aspects of her character that are bad-making (more on what I mean by “bad-making” in a moment), or at least would be if she were a real person.

The devil’s in the details here, as it is with most things worth talking about, so let’s unpack that a bit.

(Long post is long, and so continued under the cut.)

When I say someone’s an antagonist, I’m not really making a value-judgment. I’m purposefully avoiding that word, “villain,” which calls to mind “villainous” as a description of their personality and character. An antagonist is just someone who plot-wise stands in opposition to the character. They’re wrapped up in the conflict our hero has to overcome.

Let’s take a pretty straightforward (and unrelated to our fandom, so hopefully less emotionally charged for a lot of us) example: the first “Hunger Games” book. Katniss is thrown into a gladiatorial fight to the death with twenty-three other teenagers. With the exception of Rue and (later in the games) Peeta, everyone else is an antagonist in relation to Katniss. She has to hope for their death and be prepared to kill them because their continued existence stands in the way of her surviving the games. Most are reduced to numbers with s knowing precious little about them – certainly not enough to think they deserve death. But they’re still antagonists because they’re obstacles the hero has to work past if she hopes to succeed.

Or take Draco Malfoy, in the early Harry Potter books. He’s a thoroughly unpleasant boy, spoiled and sniveling certainly, but I’d be hard-pressed to call him bad. His biggest defining characteristic is he stands up and tries to fight Harry; but often as not this comes down to inter-house squabbling and the only reason he and Harry are on opposite sides is how they were sorted. As we learn, given the way he was raised and the political situation he was raised in, it’s actually pretty admirable how on the periphery of the Death Eaters he stays. But he’s still the antagonist, he’s the one Harry has to outsmart or outperform or otherwise get around.

It's only natural we cheer when the antagonists fail. We’re primed to identify with the protagonist, after all, and their failure means the protagonist gets to win. Even if objectively know the antagonist doesn’t actually deserve to fail, well. That’s just kind of how stories work.

Getting back to Sherlock, I said it’s pretty noncontroversial that Mary’s an antagonist. So when I say that I don’t mean she’s evil, or even that she’s only an antagonist. But the woman shoots our star character in the chest. It’s her secrets and her very presence that drive Sherlock into exile (and drive Sherlock and John apart) for a second time, undoing whatever victory  Sherlock achieved when he defeated Moriarty’s web. She’s certainly a problem to be addressed and worked past in HLV. In terms of canon and parallels with the Doyle stories, there’s quite a lot about her actions (particular in Leinster Gardens) that all but screams “Sebastian Moran.” Ergo: antagonist.

There’s also a quieter, more ordinary sense that I suspect will be more controversial but is worth talking about anyway. Like a lot of Sherlockians and Johnlockers, I’m a big fan of making space for John/Mary/Sherlock in happy OT3 land. I think Sherlock and John at least want some version of that in canon; maybe not romantically, but they like to imagine their being room in their lives for these different relationships to not be in conflict. But in BBC-canon that hope’s not really borne out. This deserves a full meta on its own, but briefly: when Mary observes that neither she nor Sherlock were “the first” (talking about Sholto), she situates them in competition for the same position in John’s life, rather than in distinct, complementary ones (which an OT3 seems to require); and when Sherlock notes at the end of TSOT episode that “we can’t all three dance,” he seems to come to a similar conclusion. I do love me some good Johnlockary fic, but I don’t think this is where the show was heading

At a more basic level, I’d actually argue it almost has to be this way with these three- at least if we’re to hold on to John and Sherlock being “the two of us against the world.” In the 1800s men and women had such different roles in society, a man would do very different things and relate in very different ways to his close (male) friends than he would to his (female) wife. So Watson could run off with Holmes and have adventure, then return home to Mary for the peaceful, even loving family life, without one really being in tension with the other. But by the twenty-first century those spheres aren’t nearly so different. Even if you don’t imagine them as lovers, it’s hard not to imagine a self-respecting woman today saying as Mary did in TAB, “I don’t mind you going; I mind you leaving me behind.” One of the biggest challenges for a modern Holmes adaptation (or indeed, for a modern consumer of the original Doyle stories) is how to balance Holmes’ and Watson’s private “intimate partnership” – however we understand that term – against (John) Watson’s marriage to Mary with all we moderns expect of that relationship in terms of emotional fidelity, equal partnership, shared future, etc.

Put more simply: Mary should throw a monkey-wrench in the mix; she should be something that must be accounted for and whose presence should affect how Holmes and Watson can interact. Not to mean her presence is incompatible with Holmes and Watson’s close and exclusive relationship, but at a minimum she’s a factor in need of an explanation. She can’t help but be antagonistic, at least to some interpretations of Holmes’s and (John) Watson’s relationship.

As I said, with antagonists, it’s only natural to cheer for the protagonists, which almost inevitably means rooting for the protagonists’ failure. At least we root for them being de-antagonized, converted into some other relationship to the main character. But if you’ve spent any time on AO3, you’ve probably come across fanfic focusing on the antagonists (*cough* Loki *cough**cough* Drary *hacks up a longue* Silm-fandom-this-one’s-for-you *cough*’s). We can be a thirsty bunch when it comes to our antagonists, for characters we by all rights should be primed to hate. And even at the level of primary-canon, one of the biggest ways the primary creator shows their emotional growth is by realizing their antagonists aren’t truly their enemy. Like most readers I had a tear in my eye as Cato suffered through the night, begging for death; and certainly I would have been outraged if Harry hadn’t saved Draco from the Room of Requirements in “Deathly Hallows.” Gollum’s treachery is explained and he is given his own completion; Darth Vader is spared by Luke and allowed to look on his son with his own eyes; and the Klingons, Cardassians, and Borg are given their own sort of redemption in Worf, Garak, and Seven of Nine.

All of which is to say: it’s understandable, even natural, why people would have a hard time rooting for the antagonist, but there’s a long history of fandom peoples steering into the curve on this one. So it’s also understandable, even natural, that people want to hear stories with them at the center, both new stories about them and also versions of the original canon narrative that don’t need them to wear the black hat all the time. Some folks want Mary, Sherlock, and John to all go crime-solving together. I personally think there’s sometimes a danger of turning an antagonist – especially one who is at least morally gray (and I promise we’re getting there) like Mary is – into a protagonist without wrestling with what turned them into an antagonist in the first place; so if you want to bring Mary back to the side of John and Sherlock you need to grapple with what pushed them into opposing roles in the first place, or else risk your plot feeling “cheap” and unearned. (In fairness, this warning could as easily be directed to Mofftiss as anyone in fandom!)

But at an absolute minimum, I think it’s pretty obvious that lots of fans want to imagine the antagonists as at the heart of their own stories, and lots of fan-creators have done a really good job of providing those stories. Just as a lot of fans will almost instinctively be drawn to hate them, well, if you want to go a different path you’re in good company.

Enough about protagonist/antagonist, which as I said is more about the role the character fills in the story than about their morality or character. This, for me at least, is where it really gets interesting.

Before we get started, though, I know a lot of people struggle against this idea of morality when it applies to fictional characters and fictional stories. They’ll point out (rightly) that just because they enjoy a non-con PWP doesn’t mean they approve of rape in real life; that their reading preferences come from a different place entirely than their moral judgments. But at the same time, a lot of people (equally rightly) struggle to enjoy stories that glorify things we don’t consider worth glorifying. It’s one thing to enjoy a story about Draco rejecting the Death Eaters, returning to mainstream wizarding society and joining the Aurors; quite another to imagine him dating Harry while he’s still walking around calling Hermione a mudblood.

Or getting back to the Sherlock fandom, a lot of people are most comfortable with stories with Mary’s the antagonist because she’s got a character history and just personality traits where, if we met someone like her in real-life, we’d consider her morally bad. Or on the flip slide, those fans who want a not-evil!Mary in their stories often like to imagine her as the kind of person we’d describe as good or redeemed or some such thing, if she were an actual person. Mary’s morality, at least the morality of a similar person operating in the real world (because --speaking as a former philosophy Ph.D. student who taught philosophical ethics for years-- let me tell you: talking about the morality of fictional constructs gets very messy, very quickly), seems to matter to a great number of fans. So let’s talk about that.

I said above I thought most people would agree, Mary had parts o her character that were bad-making. What I mean is there are aspects about her that tend to make a person bad, unless they’re explained by some other factor. I’ve got in mind something vaguely similar to W.D. Ross’s theories of prima facie duties (if any of you studied this in your Ethics 101 courses- you would have in mine). Basically, the idea is we have all these duties that apply to us, but they can seem to conflict, and we may decide (rightly) in any given situation that one or the other is the more important one for us to follow. The classic example is the duty to keep our promises and prevent suffering when we can. You can imagine situations where you can’t do both- for instance, if I promised to meet you for lunch and on my way to the restaurant came across a man who fell into a ditch and twisted his ankle along a deserted road, where it’s unlikely someone else would come upon him. If I stop to help him I’ll miss our lunch date and break my promise; and while I still have a duty to keep that promise, I think most people would agree it’s more important to stop and help the person. We’d all be hard-pressed to say if I helped the stranger, I’d failed at my duty to keep a promise; at least not in the same way as if I could have kept that promise and just chose not to. That’s Ross’s idea of prima facie duties: that we have all these general obligations on us, but which actually should govern our choices in any particular instance comes down to the details of that situation.

I think there’s something similar going on with Mary’s character. This is actually a good way to evaluate most of us morally, in my opinion, but it’s doubly useful when it comes to Mary because she’s simultaneously got so many troubling aspects about her that just demand some sort of justification, but at the same time, because Mofftiss really screwed the pooch here, we don’t really have the information we need to give a definitive answer. So it’s useful to say: here’s something about Mary that needs accounting for, even if we don’t have enough information to evaluate her definitively.

Let’s take Magnussen’s biggest accusation against her: “All those wet jobs.” Mary killed people on her own prerogative, and she left behind a lot of grieving relatives who would love their revenge – both a testament to the suffering she caused, and a real risk for John, the baby that will become Rosie, and everyone else in their orbit. But if that’s all there is to it, it’s not wholly dissimilar to John’s decision to shoot the cabbie. It may have been different, but we don’t have the information to know that; it feels different, but most because John was saving Sherlock (who we know), whereas if Mary was saving anyone, it’s not someone we the viewer have an emotional connection to. Still, to borrow a phrase from Ricky Ricardo, Mary, you’ve got some ‘splainin’ to do.

Or to take an even more serious charge, Mary shot Sherlock, was prepared to make John watch him die all over again and force him to go through that grief that so nearly destroyed him the first time around. Unforgiveable, yeah? The best shot at justification here is that Mary had somehow got herself cornered, so that shooting Sherlock was somehow an attempt to escape an even worse sitation. This really demands a full meta to dive in to, but very briefly, I think Mary never intended to kill Magnussen and was instead trying to intimidate him; meaning she couldn’t let Sherlock undercut her power, but equally she couldn’t leave Magnussen with the impression that John and Sherlock were somehow her partners; so shooting Sherlock was the best way to keep him from becoming a full target of Magnussen’s. If that’s the case, the whole showdown in Magnussen’s office becomes markedly similar to Sherlock’s decision to “kill” himself on the roof of St. Bart’s. Mary is willing to cause a lot of pain to avoid even greater destruction, but at the same time, the whole situation that compels this choice was fed by her limiting her options when she decided to intimidate Magnussen. Similar to how Sherlock, once he’s on the roof of St. Bart’s, has no better option than to fake his own death and leave John to grieve; but how he does have some degree of culpability for engaging Moriarty in the first place and egging on Moriarty’s destructive obsession with Sherlock.

My point isn’t that any of these parallels really hold up to scrutiny. Sherlock risked his own life in TRF (and John’s pain) while Mary was prepared to kill another. John was ready to kill “a bad man” to save our hero while whatever murders Mary committed were against unnamed people in undetermined circumstances, and narratively certainly don’t pull at or heart strings in the same way John’s heroic killing of Jefferson Hope does. But the point is, with Mary, so much of what a lot of fans object to involve these vaguely-told stories where whatever factors would excuse her actions just are left untold. What we can say definitively is “all those wet jobs” require justification. Mary’s willingness to shoot Sherlock require justification. These things are prima facie wrong (or bad-making, the kind of things that tend to make something bad in the absence of other explanations) and demand an accounting for.

I’m focusing on Mary’s violence more than what a lot of fans have identified as her abuse toward John. Partly, this is personal: I have my own experience with abusive relationships and don’t entirely trust my ability to parse similar dynamics in fiction; certainly I don’t want to tie that part of my past to public debate, and I’ve not worked out how to talk about Mary and John without over-personalizing it. But I will say, there’s a lot to be considered on that front as well, and people interested in thinking through Mary’s im/morality shouldn’t ignore it. As a starting point, inevity-johnlocked pointed to several of her old posts making the case that Mary was an emotional abuser. silentauroriamthereal’s fic “Rebuilding Rome” looks at a lot of these issues in a really powerful way if you’re looking for an exploration in fic form. I’ll just add, even if I thought Mary was justified and so “good” in some sense (and my internal compass is so screwed up, I’m not really qualified to tell at this point), the way she chose or had to lie about her past to John seems a particularly bad match for a man like him with his trust issues. So even if you think Mary is good, there’s a lot of justification for saying she’s still not good for him.

So what does this mean for reading fics involving a kinder, gentler Mary? First, I’d emphasize there’s no shame or judgment in reading what you want. Much as writers may choose to write about all kinds of things they’d disapprove of in real life, readers have that same freedom to scratch whatever readerly itch they like, with no need to defend that to anyone else. Kinktomato and all that. On the other hand, I know I personally enjoy stories more when I can lose myself in them, and – again, for me personally – it helps me do that if my values are at least compatible with what’s presented as praiseworthy. I don’t have to guard myself as I enter the story. So it’s definitely worth thinking about how comfortable you are with fiction that vilifies Mary or pardons her or something in between, because it may make it easier or harder to really immerse yourself in a fic.

Then again, maybe that’s just me. I am a rather persnickety chickadee with things like this.

I do know that many fandoms have an unfortunate history of coming down hard on the female competition to a popular slash ship. While I’m reluctant to apply “should”s to our consumption of fiction, I think there are genuine feminist concerns here. Not with thinking Mary’s bad/evil or even hating her, but hating her for the wrong. For me, it helps to imagine another character doing something similar, and think about why I would react differently if it was someone other than Mary doing the deed. Also to be aware of the details canon doesn’t answer decisively or answers different ways in different episodes.

(More than most characters, Mary does suffer from a really inconsistent characterization. I’ve often wondered if everything since HLV was Sherlock or whomever trying on different frameworks for her personality/psychology/what-have-you, to see which could account for what she did to him. First she’s a badass villain, then a Mycroftian operative, then a martyr, then a worldclass manipulator, and finally a sanctifier whose own personality was irrelevant, giving her imprimatur from beyond the grave. And that’s without throwing veteran/maths genius and happy homemaker into the bunch. Maybe the showrunners simply weren’t sure what they wanted to do with her. Whatever the situation, I do think we need to be careful about taking any one canon detail at face-value, especially with her.)

I’m also a little discomfited by this trend I’ve seen among Johnlockers, to write Mary as a monster as a way to lessen John’s pain at her… betrayal, I guess? Or just the loss at her death? I remember when a lot of fanfic authors back between S3 & S4 wrote about the baby being fake; or even after S4, as part of John’s “alibi” rather than a true detail. Or even just deciding the baby was David’s or some such. By itself, that could have been really interesting, but what I saw so often happening was people used that as a way to remove the complication of the baby. Or to let John skip the grief he’d feel if the baby wasn’t born healthy- for instance, if it didn’t exist, or died, or if Mary was killed or ran while she was still pregnant. The basic theme was if Mary didn’t deserve John’s pain, John didn’t have to hurt for so long or as deeply.

Complicated grief is a thing, though, and for a lot of people, grieving the loss of someone who hurt them and aren’t “worth” their pain seem to suffer worse and for longer, particularly if they also have to grieve the lost opportunity to make their peace with the person while they were alive. This doesn’t mean fanfic writers or readers have to give us some kind of sanitized Mary; certainly she has the potential to be a true east wind of a character. But I do think there’s a tendency to prefer a more evil Mary because this lets the story move past her or spares John some suffering often won’t feel true. It also runs the risk of disrespecting the suffering of people impacted by these kinds of losses. So while I think this kind of characterization can be really interesting and compelling, it also takes a lot of skill and thoughtfulness to do it well. Here be dragons.

For me, though, the point isn’t to be proscriptive, to say Sherlock fic writers and readers need to limit themselves to a particular read of Mary. Her character has such potential to give birth to such a wide range of fic. As a viewer of the show I wish the writers and other creators had given us more of a sense of who she was because I think it really contributes to my frustration with not understanding the story they were trying to tell. But as a (kinda-sorta-someday-once-again) fic writer, it’s a true embarrassment of riches. The trick, for those of us concerned about Mary’s ethics were she a real person, is to be aware of the dangers of reading her character certain ways and to be cautious around them if we want to play with those interpretations.

[lynnsfics]

Coffee Stained Confusion Ch 11

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~~

You screamed as the elevator dropped, the world outside seemingly crashing down around you. The force of the fall propelling you backwards, you careened towards the glass wall. Squeezing your eyes shut, you braced yourself for impact. Just a moment before you fell through the glass a steady hand grabbed your wrist. 

“I’ve got you doll,” Bucky pulled you close to him. Your forehead pressed against his shoulder as you tried to take some deep breaths. The elevator continued to drop and Bucky wrapped his arms around you to shelter you from the crash. As you neared the ground, the elevator stopped suddenly and the doors slid open. 

The elevator was stuck between two floors, and the opening seemed to be shrinking. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. The elevator hasn’t fully stopped, which means once we pass this floor the doors will shut again and it will fall all the way into the basement, which is farther down than you’d expect. I’m going to give you a boost and you can crawl out. Alright?”

“Wait, what about you? I can’t leave you trapped in here! There has to be another way.”

“Doll, there’s no way I’m fitting through that opening. Besides, I’ve survived a worse fall than this. But we don’t have much time and if I don’t get you out of here you might not. And I,” he paused, his voice almost a whisper, “I can’t risk losing you again.” 

“Alright,” you replied “just please, make it out?” 

He nodded in response and then lifted you through the opening. You pulled yourself up and with a little maneuvering you were on steady ground again. Not a moment after you made it out the doors snapped shut and with a sickening snapping sound the elevator plummeted again. 

As you gained your bearings you realized a blaring alarm was sounding throughout the tower. All the lights were off, except for a flashing red emergency beacon at the end of each hall. FRIDAY’s voice spoke over the din. “Prisoner containment breach. Code 10-A. Maximum security.” The words were repeated several times and you finally realized what they meant. Alicia was gone. Then only one thought remained. You had to get to Bucky. 

Racing down the hall you found a set of stairs leading down. Pushing the door open, you ran as quickly as you could to the bottom of the stairs. As you were about to exit to the lobby you saw a door out of the corner of your eye. The sign next to it revealed it to lead to the basement. Remembering Bucky’s words, you tried to pull the door open but it wouldn’t budge. Swiftly undoing your hair you pulled out two hairpins and jammed them into the lock. Twisting them around took a minute, but finally they pushed the cylinders into place, and the lock opened with a satisfying click.

As you opened the door and began running again you said a silent prayer of thanks for the alcoholic foster parents that always locked you out. You finally made it down to the bottom of the staircase, only to be greeted by winding catacombs of record shelves and long-forgotten motheaten papers. 

Compared to the rest of the tower, the basement was shockingly not up to date. The sirens and flashing lights were left behind at the end of the stairway. Here, your way was lit only by a flickering fluorescent bulb that clearly needed replacing.

A cloud of grimy dust rose from a far corner of the room and your heart skipped a beat. You walked through the messy labyrinth and longed for more light. Sparing a glance at your hands, you paused. You closed your eyes and held your breath as the fire came to you. It was lighter, gentler than the roaring flames in the video Alicia had shown you. It was reminiscent of a warm candle on a cold winter’s night. 

But still, looking at it flooded your memory with the horrors of what you had done. Your heart felt heavy and shame flooded your senses. The flame in your hand flickered and you stumbled, catching yourself at the last second. An aching began in your ribs and you cried out. Gasping in pain, you tried to think of what could have caused it. The shattered glass from the elevators window left several cuts along your skin but that was the full extent of your injuries. 

Finding the source of the pain was a problem for another time, however. You picked yourself back up and sped quickly to where the dust was coming from. Reaching the scene you cursed under your breath. 

The elevator shaft lie in shambles, a heap of loose wires and bits of metal. You called out, “Bucky? Can you hear me?” No response. You tried again, this time with some success. A low mumbling came from the pile and some of the wreckage seemed to move. Out of the corner of your eye a piece of metal moved. Upon closer inspection you saw it was Bucky’s arm, partially obscured under some of the debris. 

You approached the wreck, carefully stepping over some sparking wires. “Bucky, it’s me. I’m here, don’t worry.”

A mumbled “Doll…” came from under the pile and your heart broke. 

“I’m here. Just hang on.” You tried to lift the metal sheet but it was covered by tiny shards of glass. Cursing, you ignored the cuts appearing and tried again. The metal budged, but not enough. You noticed a pole a few feet away and grabbed it. Planning to use it as leverage, you carefully wedged it under a slanted part of the metal and pushed down. It shifted downwards, and with all your strength you pushed it off. 

You had to hold back a gasp when you saw him. Crimson blood pooled near his head, matting his hair. He had bruises forming on his other arm, which gently cradled what you assumed to be broken ribs. 

“Oh my God, Bucky-”

He cut you off. “I’m alright, doll. Just help me out of here.”  He struggled to sit up, and you stopped him. 

“No, Bucky, you need a medic, I’ll go get help.”

“Listen, whatever happened to us must have affected the whole tower. Let me guess, there were sirens blaring when you got out of the elevator?”

“Yes,” you sighed, “but there has to be someone who can help you.

“I think I’m well enough to go up a flight of stairs. It’ll be fine.”

You gently grabbed his hand and helped him stand. The only way out would be through the maze of a way in. You couldn’t risk trying to find a shortcut and end up getting lost. 

“Alright, here’s what we’ll do. You need to step over this wire here, but be careful, it was sparking just a few minutes ago.” Before the words even left your mouth the wire sparked back to life and a blaze encircled you both.” 

“Doll, now would be a real good time to use those powers of yours.” 

“I can try, but I-”

“Look at me,” Bucky said, “you are our only way out of here. It’s a cruel twist of fate that you have to do this right now, but you have to. Otherwise those sparks will catch all this junk on fire, and we’ll go up in smoke with it.”

Closing your eyes you felt the flames near you and reached out to them. There was a connection, a spark if you will, and with one thought the flames went out. “I knew you could do it. Now let’s go before they start again, okay?” 

You nodded, still feeling the connection in the back of your mind. Fear laced itself through you. If putting that fire out was so easy, starting one would be even easier. You could feel Bucky’s hand on your arm as you led him through the basement. You cared about him, which made him an already bigger target than before. 

Your mind raced with worst case scenarios. If HYDRA was able to brainwash you before, what if they did it again? What if they made you hurt him? Or even worse, what if you hurt him while you were yourself.

“Hey, I know that look. You’re overthinking things, aren’t you?” 

“I’m scared, Bucky. I can’t hurt anyone anymore,” you whispered, “I can’t hurt you.”

“Listen doll,” you looked up, surprised he had heard you, “sometimes things don’t go the way we plan. Sometimes people get hurt- or killed- because of the things we do. Willingly or unwillingly.

That’s part of the risk of all of this. When you have powers, and you can do things that no one else can do, there’s always a risk. It can be hard to come to terms with. HYDRA brainwashed me for so long, and it took me a while to separate the actions of the Winter Soldier from my own.

“But my parents-”

“You were young, you had no real control over what your powers or any real idea of what they could do. Looking at you now, what you did back there, that shows your control.” He looked into your eyes, and you knew he meant it. 

“You’re right,” you replied, as you reached the top of the stairs. “Thank you, truly.”

“Hey, I couldn’t let you wallow in self-pity forever, could I?” he smirked.

You laughed, “No, I guess you couldn’t. Now please see a medic. You’ve definitely received some sort of head trauma.” As you pushed open the basement door you flinched. 

A look of concern flashed across Bucky’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s my ribs. They were hurting earlier. I’m sure it’s nothing.” Bucky glared at you. “Fine I’ll give it a look.” Very carefully you lifted the hem of your shirt to reveal a dark bruise forming around a freshly inked tattoo. 

“You didn’t happen to get some new ink before any of this happened, did you?” 

You shook your head ‘no’. Alicia must’ve done this. The tattoo was a detailed phoenix with flames surrounding it. 

“How symbolic,” Bucky scoffed, “on the bright side Stark has a tattoo remover here at the tower. Too many drunken mistakes, I guess.”

You thought about it for a moment before answering, “No, I think I might keep it.” 

“Are you sure?” he questioned, “It will only serve as a reminder of what happened.”

“They may have branded a phoenix, but I get to choose what ashes I’m rising from.” 

~~~

Taglist:

@sydneyisnotawriter

Since many of you celebrate Easter tomorrow I decided to post a day early! From now one though, I’ve decided to make Sunday my official update day, and if I have time to write there may be an extra update during the week! Like always, likes and reblogs are appreciated! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! Love you all <3

[izzy-b-hands]

Only You

I saw a picture of Freddie in that rhinestone leotard, and now here I am. I might be doing another version of this with Brian/Freddie too, but for now: 

Roger/Freddie. Roger’s got a particular love for the rhinestone leotard, and for Freddie. The combination? Has him just fucking melted, on the floor. And Freddie loves it. 

This one is mostly NSFW, though there’s bit before to get us there lol. 

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

He had no issue with Roger stealing glances in public. He wasn’t always subtle, but he  wasn’t overt either.

This, however, was overt.

“Shall I pick your jaw up for you?”

“Hm?” Roger’s eyes didn’t leave where they lingered over the leotard Freddie was in. Shiny under the lights, with rhinestones (just a bit sharp to the touch, but only if you ran your hand over them the wrong way.)

“Don’t know why you’re bothering,” John tutted. “Absolutely no blood going to his brain right now. None.”

“Fuck you, Brian,” Roger mumbled.

Brian threw his arms up, half-changed into his street clothes. “I didn’t say it; Deaky did!”

“Yeah, Deaky’s great,” Roger replied absent-mindedly.

“Get dressed and you can have your fun with me later,” Freddie instructed. “Where are our clothes?”

John and Brian looked to each other, then away.

“What?” Freddie laughed. “If they got moved or something, that’s fine. Just tell us where they are.”

“Er,” John sighed. “Thought the road crew would have told you two already.”

“Told us...” Freddie prompted.

“They’re probably too scared to say,” Brian muttered. “The green room got broken into. They chased the kids out before they got to my and John’s things, but yours and Rog’s...”

“Ah,” Freddie said. “And how am I to walk into a hotel looking like this?”

“I have my trench coat with,” Brian replied. “In case it rained. And Roger can just toss a sweater of John’s on or something.”

“I have an extra coat,” John said, tossing it over to Roger, who caught it without looking, but didn’t move to put it on.

“He’s enamored with that anyway,” Brian whispered to Freddie as he brought him the coat. “I think you being in this in the hotel might be a dream for Rog.”

Freddie looked over to Roger, who was giving him the dreamiest look, entirely in his own thoughts, apparently.

“You might be right,” he said, and tossed the trench coat on.

It snapped Roger out of his reverie, and he seemed to realize just how out of it he’d been, blushing brightly.

“Welcome back,” Freddie joked. “Does this do it that much for you? You’ve never said.”

“Can we discuss it at the hotel?” Roger mumbled as he shuffled on John’s spare coat.

“Discuss,” John giggled. “Make sure you keep that ‘discussion’ quiet. Don’t need any noise complaints from the neighbors.”

“I’ll keep him quiet,” Freddie smiled, and made sure to catch Roger’s eye as he spoke.

He had an idea.

---

“You like looking at them, hm?” he asked Roger as they settled into their hotel room.

Roger was working off the tight stretchy trousers he’d worn, yanking them off his legs as he sat on one of the beds. “It’s a really nice outfit, is all.”

“Is that all?” Freddie teased, and waited until Roger had himself undressed to walk over and drop the trench coat in front of him. “Just nice? And it would get that reaction from you if anyone was in it, would it?”

“Well,” Roger’s face flushed. “Not exactly. I mean...you...”

“Tell me what you like about it,” Freddie said, and gestured down his body.

“Christ,” Roger laughed. “Can’t we just fuck?”

“If you want,” Freddie shrugged. “But wouldn’t you rather play a little bit first? Make it even better, once we get to that point?”

Roger smiled. “Well, when you put it like that...”

Roger reached for him, but Freddie waved him off. “Tell me first. What do you like about it?”

“It’s shiny,” Roger started awkwardly.

“It is! I like that about it too, but I doubt that’s all you like.”

“You...there’s no way to put this that I don’t sound like some caveman,” Roger sighed with a smile. “So forgive me that, I guess. But you...fill it out nicely.”

“Such a polite way to tell me you spent all night staring at my ass,” Freddie giggled. “Very sweet.”

“Not all night!” Roger protested. “Just most of it.”

“Show me how much you like it,” Freddie said, and backed away from the bed. “Safe word?”

“I still like the phrase we used last time,” Roger replied.

“The drums are on fire?”

“Yeah,” Roger grinned. “Ridiculous enough to stop things, plenty silly, but not so mood-killing that if we want, we can’t go on in some other way we’re both comfortable with.”

“Stick with that one then,” Freddie smiled, watching as Roger climbed off the bed and settled onto his knees in front of him, naked except for the thin pants he had on (women’s, meant not to show lines as much, a necessity whenever he wore anything as tight as what he’d had on tonight.) “Now, how are you going to show me how much you love me in this?”

“I have ideas,” Roger replied. “If I’m allowed to touch?”

Freddie mused on it for a moment. “Yes. But tongue only.”

Roger’s eyes lit up. “I can do that. I might need my hands to make sure I don’t fall over though.”

“I can allow that,” Freddie said.

He needed Roger’s hands as much as Roger did as he finally made his move.

Roger’s hands gently held his thighs, as he leaned in and licked his way up the rhinestones, careful to avoid scratching his tongue on them. Looking down to see it was utterly breathtaking.

“You good?” Roger asked as he looked up to Freddie.

Freddie managed a nod as he found his tongue again. “I am. Very good. But I’ll be better once I have this off.”

“Do I get that honor?” Roger smirked.

Truthfully, it was half a sexy thing, and half that he truly needed help out of the leotard. It was simply too tight to get out without assistance.

But Roger made it all the more fun. He stood, and helped Freddie peel the top of it down to his waist with hands that lingered at every touch of bare skin they got. His hips bumped against Freddie’s ass, and he could feel just how hard Roger already was.

His lips lingered at Freddie’s upper back and shoulders, and after a few hickeys, it dawned that Roger had gotten slightly distracted.

“Rog, love?”

Roger moaned through a kiss to one of his shoulders in reply.

“You remember I’m still half-dressed, yes?”

Roger paused and lifted his head from Freddie’s shoulder. “Sorry. Couldn’t help myself.”

“I know, and I love it,” Freddie said. “But I think it’ll be more fun once I’m out of it completely.”

“It will be,” Roger giggled and resumed his work, hands at Freddie’s waist, pulling the leotard down further.

He was back on his knees after that, reaching up to tug it down more, to Freddie’s hips. As soon as those spots were bare, he moved up enough to press kisses to each hip, and Freddie resisted the urge to melt and let his knees give out on him.

“Might hurry that up,” he said instead, and Roger gave him a devilish grin.

“I thought you were doing a bit of a dominate thing tonight? Why not make me?”

“I’m closer to begging,” Freddie admitted.

“Yeah?” Roger asked, letting his fingers trail down from Freddie’s stomach to his hips, stopping at the worst and best spot.

“You’re so cruel,” Freddie sighed happily, then gasped as Roger’s hands dipped lower, working the leotard off his hips and down his thighs.

“Lucky you’ve still got that on,” Roger motioned to the dancer’s belt. “Or I’d have lost an eye, wouldn’t I?”

Freddie laughed. “As if you don’t know how to move back.”

“I do, but I don’t want to, is the issue,” Roger said. “I want to keep as close as I can.”

He moved his feet then, so Roger could finally pull the leotard off completely, tossing it to the side.

“Go get on the bed, and we can get as close as you’d like,” Freddie said, stripping off the dancer’s belt as Roger yanked off his own pants and scrabbled over to the bed.

There was something about settling into Roger’s lap that never failed to make him happy. It wasn’t only the promise of sex that often came with it, but it was simply comforting. Knowing that Roger wanted him that close, that it made him happy to have Freddie in his lap. They were hundreds of miles away from home, but as he rested gently on Roger, it made no difference. This was as much home as anywhere else, being with Roger, like this.

Roger wasted no time, pulling him down close, kissing him breathless. He was all happy moans and sighs, even as they rolled over together so he could reach into the bedside drawer and-

“Fuck,” Roger muttered. “We’re out.”

“Of everything?” Freddie asked.

“Half a bottle of lube, and there are no condoms,” Roger sighed. “Well. We’re not going to let that ruin tonight. Still plenty we can do.”

There was indeed, with Roger’s hand smoothing lube over their cocks, so they could frot against each other.

It was such a simple thing, Freddie thought. But it was perfect. Even if they’d had condoms, he wouldn’t have minded sticking with this.

His cock hard against Roger’s, Roger’s hands wrapped around them both, and Roger’s head dropped down against his shoulder as he moaned.

“You should have kept that near us,” Freddie said. “The leotard.”

“Why?” Roger’s voice shuddered as he lifted his head, his hips still moving in time with Freddie’s.

“I’d like to have seen you cover it in come,” Freddie replied brightly.

He knew that would send Roger over the edge, and he let himself follow a moment later, hips bucking against Roger’s, lips crashing into his.

The mess was no mind for now, as he wrapped his arms around Roger and held him tight.

“I’ll get up in a moment,” Roger mumbled, eyes closed, those beautifully long lashes in focus.

“You will not,” Freddie said. “You’ll get up in maybe five minutes, because I can’t bear to let you go yet.”

Roger snuggled against him, kissing softly at his neck, and Freddie settled.

Five more minutes of heaven then. He couldn’t ask for much more, but so long as he had Roger in his life, he certainly would, as often as he could.

[margoshansons]

The Killing Kind (14/17)

Part Fourteen

MASTERLIST

Summary: Y/N and Happy bond, MJ and Ned worry.

Warnings: Slight angst. Swearing. 

Notes: This is it y’all. The final few chapters. Wow, my heart is breaking. Also, sorry there’s not much Y/N x Peter, I wanted to give my characters the proper setup.

She sat snuggled into the co-pilot seat of the cockpit, her computer tucked into her lap, EDITH scanning for possible locations in London her father was scouting out. 

You’re exactly like me. 

What if it was true? What if she ended up exactly like him? Bitter and angry and crazy while going after people who screwed her over? She had already tried to do it with her dad. What was stopping her from doing it to others? They had the same temperament, the same skill set, the same genius brain that was severely underutilized. 

“You alright kid?” Happy asked interrupting her throng of thoughts.

Y/N shook herself out of her spiral, straightening up and facing the man who had saved them both. “Yeah, uh, I’m just uh, lost in thought I guess.”

Happy smirked, “Your dad used to do that a lot back in New York”

Great. More confirmation of her theory. 

“You uh, you knew my dad?” She asked, unsure if she wanted to know how he was before he got fired. 

Happy chuckled, “Babysat him was more like it. I swear, he gave me and Tony more trouble than the actual gods he thought he was like.”

Y/N chuckled at the thought of her dad being babysat like a five-year-old at recess. “That bad huh?”

Happy rolled his eyes, “Ugh, he was the worst. Kept going on and on about how he was going to be the next great superhero one day.”

“Yeah, that sounds like him” Y?N responded bitterly, remembering her own conversations about his ‘heroics’ around the dinner table. His endless rants about the state of the world. How people like Tony Stark got a free pass because they had tons of money while the hardworking scientists got pushed to the side. 

“You’re nothing like him” Happy murmured, meeting Y/N’s rueful gaze. “He was power-hungry and crazy and  thought he was a god.” 

Y/N played with her fingernails, tearing at the loose skin. Happy grasped the girl’s hand, a gesture of assurance. “You’re better. You care about people. You’re nothing like your father.”

Y/N sighed, relief flooding through her system as newly formed tears trailed down her cheeks. 

“Besides, I don’t think your father was ever capable of loving someone the way you do” Happy continued, motioning toward Peter. 

“I don’t, um, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Y/N denied, not ready to say those words aloud.

“Oh please,” Happy scoffed, “It’s so obvious, I don’t know how he doesn’t see it.”

“He’s an idiot that’s how” Y/N scoffed, blushing at the indirect confirmation.

Happy tilted his head in a knowing gesture. “You’re not wrong”

The two chuckled at their agreement surrounding the spiderling. With all the book smarts in the world, not even Peter Parker could figure out how much Y/N truly cared about him.

“You know he still hasn’t figured out that me and his aunt are dating?” Happy bragged, not realizing what Y/N would do with that information.

“You and May?” She asked, laughter bursting from her. “I can’t believe it!”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Happy leaned back, offended by her insinuation.Y/N saw the blush in his cheeks, the shifting in his seat. She knew those symptoms better than anyone.

“You’re in love with her!” She realized, a smile crossing her face. “Oh my god, you’re in love with Peter’s Aunt!”

“What’d you’d say?!” Peter yelled from the back of the lab, unaware of what was happening at the front of the plane. 

“Nothing!” Happy yelled back, sighing in relief as he met the playful look Y/N was throwing at him. “Don’t you dare.”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything” Y/N smirked, popping her feet on the dashboard of the jet. 

“Have you found anything on Beck yet?” Peter asked, putting some of the finishing touches on his suit.

Y/N turned around to face him, butterflies bursting in her chest as she laid eyes on the boy she loved. “Yeah, he’s in London, and it looks like he just purchased several tickets for an airplane out of Heathrow and a bus tour hours before that.”

“He's gonna trap them” Peter realized. Y/N stood up, grasping his shoulders in earnest. 

“You have to keep focusing” she urged, pointing toward the lab, “Your suit is not going to make itself. I’ll handle my dad.”

Peter nodded, knowing he had very little time before they landed near Heathrow. Y/N sat back down, grabbing her computer and accessing EDITH once more. 

“Hello Y/N” the voice assistant replied. 

Hello Edith, she typed between bits of code.

I need you to disable the weapons system 

“For how long?”

Y/N huffed. Of course, her dad would install a failsafe. Of course, he would put a time limit on disabling the weapons system.

She typed an arbitrary number, hoping it was long enough to buy them some time.

***

MJ was tired of the constant switching of buses and airports. First, it was Prague, and now it was Heathrow. She knew it had something to do with that weird code Y/N had downloaded earlier, but right now all she wanted to do was take a long nap and forget about the science trip that had ended up being more eventful than she had planned. 

“Is no one going to acknowledge how crazy this is?” Brad piped up from behind the group.

“I agree” The other chaperone moved forward, “There has been nothing sciencey about this science trip”

MJ nodded, sharing a shrug with Ned. 

“No no I’m talking about Peter and Y/N” Brad continued. “Has no one else noticed how shady they are? I mean I saw Peter in the bathroom with a much older woman, while Y/N was not far behind, and they're always sneaking away like Venice? And the night at the opera? And now they’re j-just off the trip?” He narrowed his eyes, tilting his head in frustration, “With their families? I mean is no one interested in finding out the truth?”

MJ lifted her finger, silencing Ned’s worried expression as she moved to defend her best friend and current crush from the idiot that had been trying to get in her pants all vacation.

“Well, since Peter and Y/N are not here to tell their truth” She moved against Brad in a move Y/N would be proud of. “What about you? Brad? Why do you think it's cool to take pictures of people in the bathroom? And spy on girls who have no interest in you?”

An unlikely source came to her in support, “yeah dude” Flash jumped in, live streaming the whole thing, “What’s that about?”

Brad stuttered out a small defense, “No, no, no, no, no it wasn’t like that--”

Thankfully they were spared his dumb apology by an even dumber interruption by Mr. Harrington, the teacher who hated this bullshit and just wanted to have a good time in Europe. MJ shot an insincere look toward the unblipped kid before following the rest of the class out toward their tour bus. 

The guy looked shady as hell and she had seen enough true crime documentaries to know that white guys with hair that maintained were never good people. She fingered the USB in her pocket, hoping Y/N would show up like she promised. She hadn’t texted her at all, and it made MJ’s heart pound. 

As their bus pulled onto a traffic-heavy bridge, all she could do was stand next to Ned, eyes scanning the foggy horizon warily, looking for any sign of her best friend in blue. 

“I don’t like this” MJ confessed to the shorter kid, “I feel like something bad is about to happen”

“You’re an FOS now” Ned tried comforting her, “Friend of Spiderman” 

MJ internally rolled her eyes at the acronym. 

“That means, stay calm” Ned continued, allowing MJ to take a deep breath.

She tried to follow Y/N’s advice. 

Breath in for five. Hold for six. Breath out seven.

The storm clouds were gathering and the sound of thunder pulled her out of her ritual. Even though she knew it was fake, the fear was real.

“That doesn’t look good”

“It’s fake” Ned confirmed, “It can’t hurt us right?”

MJ nodded, biting her lip in a moment of anxiety. She wanted more than anything to tug on her curls, the old habit soothing. But she forced herself to stare straight at it, ready for Peter and Y/N to waltz in and save the day at any time. Her hand stayed firmly on the USB in her pocket.

Oops, dropped it a bit early folks haha. Thank you all so much for the feedback and please like, comment, and reblog!

TAG LIST: Closing after this chapter.

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[ellana-ravenwood]

Salt, Tequila, Lemon - Jason Todd x Reader

Please read this intro, thank you very much :  

So. I posted this yesterday, but after a bug on the Tumblr app on my phone it got deleted. I’m super bummed out because it had over 200 notes and quite a few feedbacks that I never got to read because it was accidentally deleted...If the people that took the time to comment things on the story could take a bit more time to write a little comment again and give me their feedbacks, and also if the people that liked and reblog could do it once more...i’d appreciate the hell out of you <3.  So reposting it (thanks god I always have back ups of all my stories now). Written in twenty minutes during my break at work. Bam. Hope you’ll like it :

Also, since Tumblr’s new guidelines and enforcement of it, I DON’T really appear in searches anymore, so the only way for this story to be seen by others than those who follow me is to reblog it. So if you wanna, you can show your support for my writing by doing just that. Thanks very much. You can find my masterlist here : @ella-ravenwood-archives

_________________________________________________

Ok. So. Grandma’s remedy against heartbreak ? Oh, right. 

Salt. Tequila. Lemon. 

Got it. Licking the back of your hand to make the salt stick to it, you pour yourself a massive shot of “To-Kill-Ya” in your coffee mug, not even caring about the fact that there is still some remnant of your cappuccino from last night in it. 

You focus on the sound the liquid makes as it fills your cup. Makes you think about something else. Good. Yup. This was totally gonna help right now. 

“Cheers”, you exclaim to yourself, your empty apartment echoing your voice. 

Salt. 

Wincing. Stingy. Salt on its own is gross. 

Tequila. 

More wincing. Oh my god, it burns. The coffee that was still at the bottom of the cup is an oddly nice touch. 

Lemon. 

The last of the Wincing. 

You spit the piece of lemon you just bit into in the trash and…miss. The yellow fruit falls with a little flat sound on the floor, and you honestly can’t bother to pick it up. Your apartment is a mess anyway, so you just stare at it angrily and pour yourself another drink. 

Salt. Tequila. Lemon. 

You gulp the last of the citrus and shiver. Miss the trash again. 

Damn. This was good. 

Well, actually, it was disgusting. 

You didn’t like strong alcohol and what the Hell ?! Why did you leave a bit of coffee in your cup ? Now that the aftertaste was kicking in, it was actually really gross. If the tequila itself didn’t make you wanna throw up, the stale coffee taste nearly did. Oh, and the salt and lemon combination was as awful as ever. 

You really didn’t like salt, tequila, or lemon. 

But it was still good. 

Because thanks to all this immediate awfulness, you could slowly feel yourself drift into “haze land”, and forget about your worries. 

Forget that your boyfriend of two years just cheated on you with some random woman you worked with. Woman that, by the way, he met at the Christmas “end of the year” party from you work you invited him to…You gave him free champagne and mise-en-bouche and all your love, and he broke your heart. 

It wasn’t your thing, to drink your sorrow away. And it wasn’t your thing either to wallow because of a man…But you genuinely thought he was “the one” (oh what a mistake you would soon realize that was). 

He was always so nice, treating you like a princess. He complimented you daily, and never forgot an important date. He was affectionate, not to an annoying point. He was the perfectamount of affectionate. He was a gentleman and seemed to love you and yet, he betrayed you. 

If a man like him, that was nothing short but sweet and passionate with you, cheated on you, then did that mean you couldn’t trust anyone ? 

Because in your eyes right now, he was perfect. Albeit said eyes were slightly clouded by a a few tequila shots. 

You were downing a fourth drink starting to slowly sob when…

There’s very few things that can get you out of a drunk state in seconds. 

An extremely cold shower could do the trick, for instance. Brings you back to your senses a bit you know ? You wouldn’t magically be sober, but you’d get a clearer mind. Or someone giving you shocking news ! Or like, an event so incredible that your body just forgets how drunk it is for a minute. 

And this event, for you, came at the perfect time. 

Right when you were entering your “sad drunk” phase, which was between the “lol alcohol does NOTHING to me” phase where you downed most of your drinks, and the “dancing on the bar’s counter” phase (a few more drinks and you would have a one woman dance party in your living room, acting as if you were on a bar’s counter and that your name was suddenly “Britney”).

Right when you were about to wallow times a thousand, and cry, and yell “whyyyyyyy ?!” to the sky, arms in the air (drama queen). 

Years later, looking back on that particular event, you’ll start to realize that Destiny HAS to exist. Because come on, it was just too perfect a timing to be a simple coincidence. 

You were about to swallow up your fifth drink, launching yourself head first into the “sad phase” when an ear shattering noise rang all around your apartment. 

Broken glass. 

It was the sound of broken glass. Heightened to the max by your drunkness. You turned on your stool, and…there he was. 

It was a guy. That you were sure of because he had no boobs and too much pecs. And that guy…well that guy just flew right through your window, destroying it. How rude. 

There was glass everywhere. 

How much did a window cost ? Probably a fortune. 

You wondered briefly if you could just use aluminium foil and tape the shit up. There was nothing of value to steal in your apartment anyway, and if aluminium foil could keep meals warm, it definitely worked with a house too right ? 

You sobered up quite a bit, but you were also very drunk when this event happened, so your mind was still in that cloudy weird phase where your priorities were…interesting. 

You worried more about the broken window at first, than about that guy who just launched through it. 

A guy. 

Not just any guy. 

You saw that guy before. 

He was one of those night vigilante your crazy hometown was filled with…RED HOOD !! 

“Thick thighs”, is the first thing you thought right after you recognized him (priorities). 

The second thing you thought was that you needed another drink, and so you downed what was your fifth one, but with that crazy thing happening ended up being on the same level as if it was a second one. You were tipsy, but not “drunk” anymore. 

The third thing that came to your mind was…Is he still alive ? 

No cause, he was like, just laying there, on your living room’s floor, not moving. 

“…Outch.” 

Oh. He spoke. 

So he ain’t dead. Good, means you can have another drink then, you don’t need a clear mind to call an ambulance or something. 

Oddly enough, in your half-drunk half-sober state, this sounded completely reasonable. Nevermind if Red Hood had some internal bleeding or something. He talked. He was probably fine. 

A minute passed, and you just sat there, sipping up your tequila in between taking a pinch of salt and biting into a piece of lemon. 

Salt, tequila, lemon. Great remedy against heartbreaks. 

Wait, were you heartbroken ? Really ? You couldn’t really recall that fact now. But, yeah…it was the reason why you were drinking right ? Because right now, all you could think about was the fact that this Red hood guy had abs for days…

This unforeseen event sobered you up quite a bit, but the two shots you just took kinda brought you back to the same state than you were before.

Well. Not quite. You were drunk as hell again, but seemed to have avoided the “sad phase”. Instead, Red Hood bursting quite literally through your window took you to another road. 

The : “Cool, I got a drinking buddy phase”. Well, taking for granted he didn’t have any internal bleeding and wouldn’t die while biting into a lemon wedge. 

“Tough day ?” 

You ask him, as he slowly sits up and shakes his head, trying to regain his senses. He looks towards you and seem surprised (or at least you think he is, because he wears a mask so…kinda hard to tell). 

************

Jason definitely thought he was alone in this place, because no sane person would just sit there, not saying anything, as someone simply jumped through their window. Nope, most people would just freak out. Scream. 

He knows, because it’s not the first time he falls through a window during a night on duty. And every single time it happened, people freaked out. Screamed. Threw stuffs at him, or hid away begging for their life to be spared. 

And yet here you were, half a bottle of tequila in front of you, surrounded by lemon wedges you bit into, and table salt all over your hand, just staring at him curiously. And did you just say : “tough day” ?  

Well, Jason guessed the empty half of the bottle was why you were so chilled about it all. He sat up, and slowly got back to his feet. 

Usually, going through a window meant the end of the night for him. He’d go back to one of his secret stash, patch himself up and get some rest. Most of the time, he fell through windows because someone pushed him or threw him there…Though today, he just embarrassingly missed a step and fell by himself. 

Of course, no one would ever now he tripped while jumping from one building to another (you lived on the last floor) and went careening into your home (and life). Nope, the official story would be that he fought a fierce enemy and was thrown into that window. Finding fake villains name was easy, given how truly ridiculous some could be. 

Tim and Damian were still after the “Illusive Blue Man” that he totally made up that one time he walked into a poll and had a huge black eye that he couldn’t quite explain…Oh man, he had to stop telling such elaborate lies and just say “I fought with a few guys last night” without more explanation. 

But he couldn’t help it. And those kids believed everything he said, it was too tempting…But for now, this wasn’t the issue. Nope. 

He did a quick check of his body and knew he wasn’t really hurt (thanks “dad” for the amazing body armor ugh ?), so he was planning on leaving that poor girl’s house and send a mystery check in the mail to pay for the damage (money stolen from a certain Bruce Wayne of course, as if he would pay himself). 

Yup. He was just gonna stand up, and go on his way and…somehow, he found himself sitting on the stool opposite side of this mysterious girl, and now she was peppering salt on his hand ? 

“Salt”, she says, and she has a cute drunk voice. Jason almost forgets he just went through a window a few minutes ago. 

“Tequila”, she continues, downing her drink and pointing at the one she poured him. He doesn’t even care the she poured it in a cereal bowl that she didn’t even seem to have clean…He drunk worst things in worst recipient. He turns away to take off his mask and so that she can’t see his face, and “bottom’s up”. 

“Lemon !” she finishes, biting into the sour fruit and spitting it in the direction of the trashcan but missing completely. The lemon wedge goes to lost itself amongst his fallen brothers…

Jason bites into his own lemons, and spits it. Right into the garbage. 

There’s a slight pause, where she just stares at the trashcan, and then at Jason, back to the trashcan, and then turns to him again and simply says : 

“Wow.” 

************

So. This was surreal. 

Here you were. In your home. Taking tequila shots. With…Red Hood. 

One of Gotham’s night vigilante. The most violent one. But the dude seemed chilled. He was holding his liquor really well. 

And now you were talking about your broken heart, telling him the story as if he’d been your friend for years. And he was listening. Intently. And reacting to what you were saying. It had been a LONG time, since you had this kind of talk with anyone, and despite the fact you were drunk, you still noticed how nice it felt to have someone to talk to. Someone that genuinely listened. 

“And then he slept with her !” you say angrily. 

“Nooooooo !?!” 

“Yes, he did ! He slept with…with…what was her name…”

“Nicole. From accounting.” 

“Right, Nicole from accounting ! That bitch ! She always just…counts and shit ! And he slept with her ! Nicole from accounting ! Whom he met thanks to me, by the way ! At a partyyyy !! At my wooooork !!” 

“What an ass.” 

“Right ?! Oh but he had such a good ass though…Quite firm. But whenever he wore jeans, it was super flat.” 

“So, not such a good ass in the end then ?” 

“I guess not. You have a good ass. Popping right out in this outfit of yours.” 

Red Hood chuckles, and the sound of his laughter makes you forget that you just said something incredibly embarrassing. His voice is…nice. Deep. Manly. You like it. You wanna make him chuckle some more, so you say, hoping : 

“And it looks very firm. Not just quite firm.” 

It works. He snorts and it’s very cute. Oh wow. He can be sexy and cute. Full package. You smile a bit dreamily. 

For a second, he’s lost in that smile of yours, and there’s a silence installing itself in the room. A comfortable one. That you break : 

“Ok. So now, he’s not that perfect anymore ! He got no ass ! Penalty points ! I never notice how un-assed he was before…” 

Jason smiles and damn. He’s hot. 

Somewhere along the way, he stopped turning his face away from you whenever he took a shot, and just ended up taking his helmet off. He was probably hoping that you’d black out or something, so you wouldn’t remember his face (or he just didn’t care). 

In any case, you were pretty sure you never saw him before. His face kinda reminded you of an old memory. Of someone you saw somewhere long ago, when you were a kid…Which wasn’t really a big help right ? 

Right. You had no idea who he was. And in your drunken state, probably couldn’t piece anything together anyway. So even if you did know who he could be, you wouldn’t know in the end anyway…Makes perfect sense right ?

What you knew was : he’s hot. 

This white streak in his hair did something to you that you couldn’t explain. And that jawline ? You would love to get cut on that bitch.  It could actually cut a bitch, you were sure of it. Those blue eyes ? You’ve never seen someone with such blue eyes. And did you mention to yourself how muscular he was ? Because man you only saw guys like this in magazines ! 

But beyond his handsome features, he seemed like a nice guy. Like he was listening to you, a total stranger. And this realization suddenly raised your guard up. 

You also thought that your ex-cheating-boyfriend was a nice guy. And come to think of it, who the hell just barge in someone’s home like that, and actually stay to drink tequila shots ?! Wait but…in your guts…it’s not like with your ex. 

You don’t think he’s a nice guy. You know he is. 

************

There’s a visible shift in your mood, after this realization. So far, you talked to him about your broken heart freely, and he listened. 

Oddly enough, no words that came out of your (perfect) mouth bored him. Jason wasn’t sure wether it was the alcohol or not, but you captivated him. 

But in a split second, and without him knowing why, your features changed. You were now frowning. Like an unhappy little kid. It was kinda cute, but he didn’t like it because���why were you frowning ? 

He tries to lighten up the mood and says : 

“Well here you go. See, you didn’t loose the perfect guy, his ass was flat in jeans. Can’t work with that, can you ? I bet we can find other flaws. Make you realize he actually was a looser.”  

Your guard is up, but you can’t help but smile a bit, plus you were frowning just now because you realized you just knew you could trust that total stranger, and it was so weird…. 

Besides, no harm in indulging this, because you’re pretty sure it’ll make you feel better to try and see the bad side of your ex-boyfriend, not just his good ones. No one was perfect. And so, still a bit careful, you say : 

“Well…He never got any of my Tv shows or movie references.” 

“Well, here’s a point to take off of his “perfectness”. Doesn’t get pop culture references. Deal breaker.” 

“Yeah…Yeah you’re right. It is. He also used to hate when I made jokes. I like puns ya know ? Terrible ones. Well, he was always embarrassed whenever I made them in public.” 

“Ashamed of his girlfriend, doesn’t sound very gentlemanly, right ?” 

“Yeah. It doesn’t. Maybe he wasn’t such a perfect gentleman…He also used to not want to go out with me if I didn’t wear any make-up and was dressed just casually.” 

“What you mean, he never just went out with you ?” 

“We only went out on dates. I had to dress up. I could be casual home though…” 

“Well goodie, the man let you be yourself when you were home. Big deal. To be honest, sounds like a douchey move.” 

“That was kinda douchey…I never cared what he looked like.” 

And it’s true. For you, physical appearance wasn’t everything. And sure you thought your ex was hot and all, but only because you liked his personality too. You liked his jokes, you were never ashamed of anything he said. 

And right now, sure that stranger that bursted through your window was hot, but the reason you felt like you could tell him things was because he just made you comfortable by his mere aura. Because he gave you such a good vibe. 

You never were fully about appearances. It was always just a bonus for you…So it never occurred to you why your ex would only hang out in public with you if you were pampered. Like he used to hate when you just wore hoodies and no make-up, even if you didn’t need make-up to be beautiful. 

Comes to think of it, he was very much about appearances…Uh. Interesting. You never realized that before. 

You turn to Red Hood, and the look on your face says it all. You’re slowly realizing maybe you didn’t just lost “the one”. The vigilante says : 

“Ok, so : no ass, no humor apparently, doesn’t get pop culture references, and was kind of a jerk when it came to going out with you…” 

“He did tell me often that I was beautiful though. Including when I just woke up from a night out, and was awful looking.”

“Yeah, but he never went out with you looking like that. He shouldn’t feel ashamed of hanging out with you looking like that. Just like he shouldn’t feel embarrassed when you joke. He can be exasperated, like if you really make bad puns, sure. And he can think it’s unfunny…But embarrassed ? No.” 

“I guess…I never thought about it.” 

“Well let me tell you, as someone who does not know neither you nor him personally, he sounds like a bit of a jerk. Let’s not forget he cheated as well. Like, that’s not something good people do. Especially not with…Nicole from accounting.” 

“Nicole from accounting…Yeah. They’re together now though.” 

“So ? He should’ve broken up with you if he realized he liked her. That’s the right thing to do. Trust me on that, I put villains behind bars for a living, I know what’s right or wrong.” 

“I heard you kill criminals.” 

“Used to. I used to kill criminals, I had issues. I’ll tell you one day if you wanna. It’s a real tear jerker story. With clowns and crowbars. And I’m telling you that because I’m drunk, right now. Also, if we want to be specific, I don’t actually make a living out of putting villains behind bars. Like, I don’t get paid or anything…” 

Jason finds himself ranting about anything that comes to his mind, and though he hears himself claim it’s because of the alcohol he’s saying all this, he realizes maybe there’s something else making him want to talk. 

You. A total stranger he walked upon. Or rather, went-through-the-window upon.  Who didn’t freak out when he went through said window. And instead, invited him over to have tequila shots. 

Because, according to your grandmother, the best remedy to…basically any problems in life, was “salt, tequila, lemon”. 

“She was a wise woman.” 

He says, and you turn to him, clearly not understanding what he was talking about. 

“Who ?” 

“Your grandma. For saying that salt, tequila and lemon was a great remedy against heartbreaks and all.” 

“Oh. Yeah. I wouldn’t know, I never met her. She died before I was born.” 

“Well what she passed on to your parents is great.” 

“What ?”

“Well, that “salt, tequila and lemon” thing, I assume she said that to your mom or dad, and then they said that to you, and then it became your grandma’s advice. Right ?” 

“…Nah. It’s an excuse I made up. Whenever I need to justify something, I just say “like my grandma said, ain’t no shame in eating an entire tub of ice cream if you want to”, and then people are just like “oh yeah, cool”, because when you say the word “grandma”, then it gives a perspective to your words ya know ?” 

Jason had no idea what you were on about, but he loved it. You seemed to be very smart. And witty. And funny. The hell did that guy cheated on you for ? And why was he ashamed of going out in public with you when you weren’t dressed up ?! 

You currently wore “Hello Kitty” pyjamas, had absolutely no make up on, and your hair was a mess, and he thought you looked gorgeous.

“Why are you so nice ?” 

Your question takes him by surprise, and for a few seconds he doesn’t register it and just says : “ugh ?” 

“To me. Why are you so nice to me ? Is it the alcohol ? Does it make you nice ? Or are you just nice to every stranger ? Every girl you destroy the windows of ? Or are you like my ex ? You seem nice, but then you go off and cheat on your girl simply because you like another girl and you’re too cowardly to break up with your current girl ?” 

Jason hiccups slightly, and says : 

“No, I’m not nice to any girl I met. I’m actually usually kind of a jerk, too “brutally honest”. But you…I don’t know. You give me good feelings. Oh and here’s to add on his flaws list. “Coward”. Can’t even break up with a girl, has to wait to get caught red-handed and break her heart. Cooooward. Bad flaw. Kind of guy who runs in the face of danger, instead of standing by you.” 

It’s probably the fact that he said “you give me good feelings” that spurs this in you. That gives you a new clearer perspective on things. 

“My heart wasn’t broken.”

It’s a shock, to you. This realization. This sudden feeling jumping in your face. You…are not heartbroken. You’re mad. You’re frustrated. You feel betrayed. You feel a crazy burning anger towards your ex for toying around with you like that. For not having the balls to just break up, after spending two years together. 

He was suppose to know you. To be your friend. Things could have turned out better. He could have just come up to you, say the truth, and…You were pretty sure you’d still be friend. Because he really was a great guy. 

He really was all the good thing you though about him. He made a mistake, an unforgivable one in your book. But he was a great guy. 

He was just…not your great guy. Not anymore at least. 

And you realized, there, quite drunk, that…It was ok.  

Your heart wasn’t broken.  

Your heart wasn’t broken. 

Your pride was. Your trust was. But your heart ? …Maybe you weren’t completely in love with him. You were best friends, yes, but love ? Maybe it wasn’t love…

Your heart wasn’t broken. 

“My heart isn’t broken.” 

You tell Red hood, looking at him right in his wonderful ocean blue eyes. And he looks right back at you, and just nods. Just like that. And then he pours you one last tequila shot. 

Because like your grandma would say : “When you make great discovery about yourself…Salt, tequila, lemon”. 

************

It took you only a few hours with him to realize that you weren’t in love with your ex, and that was kinda scary. Because this realization didn’t come from nowhere. 

Nope. 

But when he said that your ex broke your heart, you felt obligated to tell him that no. No your heart wasn’t broken. You were sad and angry, yes, but not heartbroken. For you, in that moment, it was important for this total stranger to know you weren’t actually in love. 

Hell, you didn’t even know yourself you weren’t that in love before you talked to him. It just came as a sudden, yet utterly true revelation. 

Because, and this wasn’t the alcohol speaking…You felt incredibly attracted to that guy. To Red Hood. Not just because of the white streak in his hair, and the eyes, and smile, and voice, and abs, and thick thighs. That too, sure, but not only…Nope. 

Nope. Not because of this. 

But because he had a tough day (he said so himself, explaining to you how he went through the window…he was fighting a super-villain when he got flung through your window, tough tough time ahem), and yet he sat with a crazy lady that peppered salt on his hand and practically forced him to take a tequila shot…

Because you could see in his eyes, and felt in your guts that he didn’t have an easy life…and yet he took a break from whatever he was doing to just sit with you and listen to you. He didn’t even make sense, that you trusted those feelings so fiercely. And yet, you did. Because he listened to you. 

He saw you were struggling and he stayed. And though you felt you couldn’t trust anyone at that time…You oddly felt like he was ok. 

Like he wouldn’t be the kind of guy to cheat, or run in the face of danger, leaving you all alone to fight off demons. 

In a few short hours, you fell for this guy more than you ever fell for your ex. 

What did that say about you uh ? …That was pretty pathetic…

************

Jason didn’t think that you were pathetic at all. 

On the contrary. If he went to seat with you, and drink with you, is because he was instantly mesmerized by you. 

And though he didn’t know at first why, now he was sure of it. 

It’s because you didn’t freak out. And something told him it wasn’t only because you were a bit drunk (he fell in drunk people’s home before…none reacted like you). 

Nope. It was because you were special. He just knew it. Special in every way. Funny. Beautiful. Genuinely listening to him when he was speaking. 

He peppered his own problems within your story, as you told him. And you listened. Hell, even referenced a few things he said early on, way later, while you were crazy drunk. You listened. 

You gave a total stranger that seemed to have a tough day some salt. And tequila. And lemons. 

And then you cared. You asked him a thousand times if he was ok, and he basically had to take off his armor to prove it so (to your eyes’ greatest pleasure…mm mm mm those muscles). 

Captivated. He was captivated by you. It was strange, and though he knew it was because you were special, he still was unclear as to why his feelings were that strong. 

For someone he just met. And barely knew. And only knew while drunk. 

You were just…Special. 

************

It was surreal. The all thing. 

What started as a night where you planned on wallowing your pain and drinking…ended up changing your life. 

And no one could convince you that it wasn’t Fate. Because what were the odds that Red Hood would fall through YOUR window after tripping (yeah you didn’t buy that “fighting super-villains thing” at all) ?

What were the odds of his timing being so perfect, arriving just before you started to cry ? Because there was no doubt in your mind that if he had come a few seconds later, he wouldn’t have stayed. 

He would have found a crying mess, and maybe he would have tried to confort you but…You wouldn’t have answered. In your “sad phase”, you only cry and whine. He would have eventually left. And the wonderful talk you’d just have, would never have happened. 

But instead. He came right before your lips touch that fatal shot of tequila that would have brought you into the “sad phase”. And took your drunkness down a notch. Rerouted your evening. 

You weren’t wallowing anymore, you were ranting. 

Sharing your anger and frustration. 

And he helped you realize that your ex wasn’t that perfect…That maybe it was just not meant to be…After all, he cheated on you. 

Uh. What a shame. You didn’t even know his name…”Red Hood”…

You wished you knew his name. 

************

The morning lights were rising, and the bottle of tequila was long gone. 

There were still salt and lemons though. For some reason, you decided to buy the entire grocery store’s stock of lemons. 

Red Hood stood up, and said he had to go. 

He was nice about it. Said it was a pleasure to have spend the night with you. You both laughed about the innuendos that ensued. 

You were exactly on the same page. And he understood all your joke referencing to pop culture… 

But it was time for him to go. And he apparently had no intention of telling you his real name. He didn’t hint either at ever coming back to see you again. 

And there was that. Just a nice night, spend talking to a genuine friend that you’ll never see again. 

A genuine friend that you didn’t even know a few hours before. 

Maybe it was the alcohol speaking. Maybe not. 

And even if you ended up never seeing him again, this evening truly changed your life…At least, it saved you from a heartbreak. Made you realize it wasn’t that.

Though, now, as he climbs out of the window again (he couldn’t possibly use the front door), you feel like the actual heartbreak is starting. 

Grandma’s remedy against heartbreak ? Right. 

Salt, tequila, lemon…

But the tequila is all gone. 

“I’ll send someone to fix that window…Sorry again about that. …Bye.” are his last words, and then he’s out. 

And the tequila is all gone. 

************

… 

…

…

…

Days pass by in a blur. 

Salt. Tequila. Lemon. 

Ugh. But you don’t want to this time. You don’t want to get drunk to forget. 

You don’t want to forget him. And you know it’s ridiculous to get that worked up over a guy you met one night and that will never come back. That you didn’t even know the name of. 

This entire night was weird anyway. 

Getting drunk with a dangerous night vigilante. Pouring your heart out to him, and him doing the same. The hell were you even thinking ? 

Salt. Tequila. Lemon. 

That would be a good idea to do this right now, because man…your heart hurt. More than when you discovered your ex sleeping with Nicole. From accounting. But you can’t resolve yourself to drink. To forget. Nope. Instead you…

*Knock knock knock*. 

Uh ? You take a quick look at your clock in the kitchen.10 pm. Who the hell is coming at 10 pm ?! It can only be bad news. Especially in Gotham…You peep into the eyehole and…

WHAT ?! 

You open your door quickly, and… 

“Told you I’d send someone to fix your window.” 

It’s him. It’s Red hood. But in…civilian clothes. 

His ass doesn’t look flat in jeans. 

He’s holding a window wrapped in cardboard, and there’s a toolbox at his feet. 

“Yeah, you did…come in.” 

************

Jason Todd. 

That’s his name. And connections are fast to be made in your brain. Jason Todd. Bruce Wayne’s adopted son. That supposedly died…ten years ago. 

And is Red Hood now. Oh. It makes sense. Even his little “killing criminals” thing while Batman never killed. You easily put two and two together. 

Red Hood. Jason Todd. Bruce Wayne. 

Wow. Can’t believe you never guessed that before. Of course Bruce Wayne is Batman. He’s got the motive, the means, the excuses…It’s so obvious. And yet, you never realized. And no one else in Gotham ever realized. 

Jason Todd. 

Now you know his name. 

And he’s fixing your window. Nobody ever fixed windows for you before (even those who broke it).

Um. To add to the “perfect man” list : “Handy”. 

Jason Todd.  

He quickly works the window up, and then he turns to you. While he was working you talked, as if you knew each other for years. Joking around. Like old friends. Like old extremely good and close friends. 

It fits. It clicks. It’s natural. You and him, him and you. 

Barely knowing each others, and yet knowing each others the best. 

Jason. Todd. 

He turns to you now, and with a smirk, he says : 

“Ya know, my grandma always say that when something good happens to you, you need to celebrate. And I feel like this, right now, you and I, though I have no idea what we’re doing and where it’s going…Well it’s still something to celebrate. And she always says, my grandma, that to celebrate perfectly you need…” 

You smile. 

Yeah. You don’t know where this thing between you two is going, but you do know that you never met someone who so fully understood you. 

And in such a short span of time. And you know you’re not mistaking. It’s a feeling too strong to be a mistake. 

He came back to fix your window for god’s sake. And trusted you enough to tell you his actual name. Without a second thought. Which meant everything. Especially since from all the hint he let slip through last time you saw each others, about his father, well…let’s just say telling people his real name wasn’t really something he was used to. 

But it just works. It fits. It clicks. It’s not like with your ex, because you don’t think you know it does. It just does. The fact that you say those next few words in perfect sync finishes to convince you : 

(“…And she always says, my grandma, that to celebrate perfectly you need…”) 

“Salt, tequila, and lemons.” 

______________________________________________

I’m so mad the Tumblr app crashed and I deleted the original post...Y’all were great and reblogged the hell out of it ! Which is why it got so many notes in such a short span of times. And feedbacks. I haven’t had that many feedbacks on a story in a long time. So just one last time and I won’t bother you with that again : Please, if you enjoyed this story, don’t hesitate to reblog it and share it with others. People who don’t follow me can’t really find my stories anymore so...you’re a big help by spreading them. It’s always very encouraging. 

And if you got the time, feedbacks are always hella appreciated and always make my day a little brighter <3. 

[swellwriting]

LOVER Pt.1

- I Forgot That You Existed -

Bucky x Reader/ The Winter Soldier x Reader

A/N: Welcome to the beginning of this journey, hope you are excited for the rest of the story, please let me know what you think, like/ leave a comment/ reblog and all that stuff it’s really appreciated :))

Word Count: 2.7k      Series Masterlist   Part 2

Warnings: Just violence for this chapter.

Hydra had fallen and S.H.E.I.L.D had fallen with it, given they were truly one and the same in the end. But just because the secret was out, it did not mean that Hydra had gone extinct. They thrived working in the shadows and casting new light just made more shadows in new places for them to hide. Like rats they scurry from one safe place to another, making new hidden bases, moving back and rebuilding old ones. That was their dumbest tactic.

On their tails, they had the Avengers chasing them, and the Avengers weren’t easy to hide from since they seemed to be growing in numbers every day.

To make matters worse for them, because you just loved to make things worse for the organization that ruined your life and stole it from you in more ways than you could count, they had you, their very own prized “Asset Number 2” who was living just to continue to kill them all. You wouldn’t stop until you could safely say that Hydra was a thing of the past.

And any new organizations like Hydra that came up, you would put their fire out before they could burn someone else as they did to you, as they did to him.

You would search for intel, scan digital global maps, return to old bases trying to find where the disease of Hydra had spread to next. Hydra was right to call themselves by this name, Lerneaen Hydra being the type of monster that when you cut one head off, two more would grow in its place. It was tiring chasing after the “heads” but what else was their really to do with your life, with your abilities, work in a small town diner? Not a chance.

You consider for a moment what it would be like, serving drinks with a cherry fake smile, winking at men that made your stomach curl for an extra tip, and then bringing them out back and slitting their throats for trying to put a hand up your short uniform skirt? It would just never work out.

The explosive device you had set on the door goes off, blowing your hair back and spreading a bit of heat against your cheeks.

“That was a close one.” You thought aloud, feeling your face to make sure your eyebrows were still there. You had been looking into this specific base for a long time, you were tired of trying to figure out passwords and lock codes so you did a small heist of the local police department armoury and decided the loud and proud approach was more your style today. The alarms blared like music to your ears.

“That’s right, panic, scurry around like rats, grab a weapon, it won’t help you.” You say in a sing-song voice, purely for your own amusement, it had been a long while since you had had a partner to joke with.

You grab your .44 magnum revolver from your thigh holster, lean up against the wall and listen for nearing footsteps around the corner, you check and make sure you have all nine bullets loaded and when you hear the tip tap of the scurrying rats you duck down and peer around the corner, shooting upward as the men run towards you in blind panic. There were six of them, you counted each one as you put a bullet in their heads, even as they realized you were there and went to turn and run you were too fast.

You took a moment to admire your work because hell if you didn’t who else would?

The men wore bleachy white lab coats now stained in their own dark blood, “damn lab rats,” you say with a spite filled yet satisfied grunt as you spit on their bodies.

You look down the hallway, no one else seems to be there but you know better than to waltz down there with only three bullets left. You grab a grenade off your hip, pull the pin and hold it to your lips as you count to three before dramatically rolling it down the long hallway like a bowling ball until it hits the door at the end and stops.

You hear men begin to yell “grenade” but your timing’s too perfect, they don’t even finish the word before their lips are probably blown right off their faces.

“Strike!” You congratulate your self as you slowly stride down the hallway, a swagger to your step. Fuck a diner, this was what you were good at. You excelled at this.

One of the men wasn’t quite dead, you walk up to him, stick the heel of your boot into his chest where the skin is torn open and then kiss the blade of your knife before pushing it through his heart. You fake a frown as you watch the light leave his eyes.

“Awe just a spare, you ruined my streak!”

As if human lives were equivalent to bowling pins, but in your mind, the lives of Hydra officers were lower, even lower than an inanimate object, but can anyone blame you, they treated you the same way.

You skip down the hallway, twirling your knife in your hands until you think you hear a noise, holstering your knife you grab your prized AP4 gun off your back and hold it up to your line of sight, tired of the dramatics and wanting to see Hydra blood splattered on the walls of their underground steel hell box.

You find nothing and no one as you kick the door to the lab open.

In total there were only a few lab rats and couple meek soldier mice? Hydra must be feeling the pressure you’ve been putting on them lately, good.

You plug in your USB and start the download of all their files, this will help you figure out what Hydra’s up to and where their other basses might be.

You hear a noise down the hall, one expertly quiet footstep that only a super-soldier would notice, you should have checked the surroundings before you left your back so open, someone comes in and you raise your gun at them about to yell at them to drop their weapon, until you realize you are being held up by a man with a bow and arrow.

You laugh for a moment, he shoots an arrow as you lower your gun and you catch it, breaking it in half thanks to your super-soldier strength and laugh. Your laugh fades to shock when someone walks in beside him, his gun is covering part of his face but you recognize that metal arm, that messy hair that needs to be trimmed, his face as he lowers the gun a bit to look at you.

“Winter?” You ask, losing all of your focus as your mind panics and before you realize the stupid arrow guy shot again, right into your stomach, it feels like a sharp pain, it goes straight up your spine and into your head making your vision go blank and your stomach ache. You’re lying on the ground, when did you fall?

“Fuck,” you say but it comes out so quiet and you feel so weak, you squeeze your fingers to stay awake, to focus but something is wrong, something is so very wrong.

You hear faint footsteps.

“Someone already cleared out this base, I’m assuming it’s our gal there that you shot in the stomach without thinking.” Says a voice you swear sounds like Tony Stark, or at least how he sounds on tv.

“She was pointing a gun at me!” Clint defends and Bucky chuckles as he walks over to you, you’re alive and struggling on the floor, like an animal, helpless and visibly angry about it as you grab at your stomach.

“She’s not dead,” Bucky confirms as he grabs your hand, but he doesn’t look at you like he knows who you are, he doesn’t look sad to see you dying on the floor. And as the pain fills your body, as your head pounds against your skull, your eyes water, your mouth tastes tangy like metal you realize he has no idea who you are, your eyes go wide as you desperately try to speak to him, but you spit up blood which horrifies him.

“Impossible, I’m using those arrows you made me Tony, you said instant kill, that doesn’t look instant.”

“They are poison coated, Legolas, the poison should kill any normal person within seconds, seems our gal here is both a badass Hydra killer and a special enhanced. Barnes bring her on the jet, let’s nuke this joint.”

Clint instantly feels bad as he watches Bucky carry you away, how was he supposed to know you had killed those guys in the hallway, he came in after Nat and Cap who went into a different room, so he just assumed they had taken care of them. He looks at the small pool of blood you left behind on the ground and then grabs your USB, putting it in his pocket and hoping he can give it to you later.

You are only partially conscious, conscious enough to hear and to feel the pain circling your body but that’s about it.

You feel them lay you down and then strap you in, a safety measure, perhaps to keep you in place, or more for their own safety, you aren’t sure. You blackout from the pain, only waking up sometime later, you aren’t sure where or how long it’s been but the room is bright white, it’s filled with fancy technology on the walls and a nurse looks you in the eyes and then scurries away to get the others.

You blink a few times, sit up even though it sends shooting pain up your spine and to your toes, your brain feels numb, they must be heavily medicating you, and to achieve that they must know about your…abilities.

“We go into lots of Hydra bunkers, it’s not rare to find specially enhanced soldiers there, or traces of their past existence, but it is rare to find one who seems to be doing exactly what we were,” Tony says as the room quickly fills with various curious Avengers

“Do you usually shoot at them too?” You ask.

“No.” Tony answers easily while Wanda answers simultaniously, “yes.”

Tony looks at her, raises a playfull brow which gets him a shoulder shrug in return, and then turns back to you.

“Lets cut to the chase, you’re special. Another Super soldier by the looks of it,” he says as he flips through your lab results.

“I’m the same as Winter, same make, different model.” You joke as you gesture to your body.

“Winter?” Steve asks confused.

“Yeah, Winter, he is the only reason I even got shot, he broke my focus. I’ll never be killed by a dude with a damn bow and arrow.” You counter thinking that somehow answers who Winter is.

“Who is Winter?” Tony says, asking you again.

“How do you not know who he is? He was with you, in the base, on that jet. I saw him and blanked. The Winter Soldier, I’m exactly like him, he helped them create me, I am a copy of him.”

“Let me guess your name is Summer right?” Tony jokes.

“Spring, actually. Hydra is really creative, luckily they maxed out at two of us and didn’t run out of seasons.”

Tony chuckles at the nickname and speaks up, “FRIDAY, call Barnes to the medical ward.”

Then you just wait, still confused still in pain as the love of your life walks through the door.

“You didn’t tell us you knew our almost casualty here?” Tony asks and Steve listens intently, never having heard of “Spring” before now.

“I don’t?” He answers and your heart drops. You were right, your hunch from the way he looked at you before was right, it wasn’t that he moved on and didn’t care, it’s that he completely forgot, he has no idea who you are.

The Avengers, or at least the ones in the room, Steve, Tony, Clint, Sam, Wanda and Bucky, all stare at you with looks of confusion and some filled with accusation.

“So your story doesn’t work,” Sam suggests, instantly not trusting you, not that the others trust you any more than he does.

“It’s not a story, or an excuse it’s the truth. I was The Spring Soldier, Asset number 2, I was created by Hydra, I was the only person they found who could survive the half-assed knock off serum they created and used on Winter first. I was trained by Winter, he was my partner, my lover.” You say the last part quietly and they pretend not to notice as you look at your hands.

“You just don’t remember me, it’s happened before,” you finish.

“I thought you got all your memories back Buck?” Steve asks.

Clint chimes in, “How do you even know if you remember everything you…forgot,” but no one pays attention to him.

“I do,” Bucky assures himself aloud.

“I forgot you existed once too, and I’ve dealt with you forgetting me before too. After you left Hydra I couldn’t find you anywhere for years, they said you went chasing after some old friend, they couldn’t find you either.

I heard that you joined the Avengers and there were all these trials in the news and it seemed like you had moved on and I was tired of chasing after you so I thought it was my turn to forget, I begged a lower officer to perform the procedure, I thought to forget you would be hard, painful. I thought that it would kill me, but it didn’t. It wasn’t long before the memories rushed back. You should remember me too by now. What all do you remember, about the past?” You spill your guts, quickly running over your past skipping some of the darker moments. You ask the question as calm and collected as you can, masking the heartbreak as you search for answers.

“I remember Hydra, I remember the war and I remember Steve but not you,” he says so flatly like he isn’t bothered. As if he isn’t even trying to rack his brain for memories of you.

And he looks at you in this way that breaks your heart, behind his eyes there isn’t love, there isn’t hate, just indifference.

And it hurts because you want him back so badly but he doesn’t seem to care. As painful as the past is you crave it at this moment. Life with Winter was hectic and hard but it was worth it to be with him, this peaceful and quietness that lingered without him, without being part of Hydra was deadly. And then he had to twist the knife.

“I remember everyone I’ve ever killed, I remember everything the soldier did but I am not him.”

“Yes, you are!” You say raising your voice a little, like a wounded animal backed up against the wall.

“No, I’m not.” He says and he doesn’t yell but he says it like he’s so sure of himself and it hurts, a blow to the heart as if he’s stomping on the memories as if he’s ripping up pictures in your face. And he isn’t saying the words out loud, he’s not saying he doesn’t love you, but he might as well be.

As Bucky leaves the room in a rush the team gives you a new mix of looks. Tony looks at you as if you’re a new project, something begging to be fixed. Clint looks guilty and confused. Sam and Steve are both defensive, they had spent so long helping Bucky move on from his past, helping him believe he wasn’t the same person, that it wasn’t his fault and here you come, ruining that idea.

Wanda looked neutral, like she sort of felt bad for you but also didn’t trust you either.

The love of your life just walked out the door, leaving you behind like dust without a second thought, for what felt like the hundredth time, and you were stuck in a room of strangers who were all silently judging you and making their own opinions on you.

To make it worse you were handcuffed and strapped to this damn hospital bed. You had to get Winter or Bucky to remember you and you had to get the entirety of the Avengers to trust you and believe you aren’t a threat. What a fucking nightmare.

Part 2

Tag List: @finnofamerica @theseuscmander @fortisfiliae @theboywhocriedlupin @draqcnheartstrinq @carolinesbookworld 

Let me know if you would like to be tagged, this series is getting its own special taglist since I discontinued all my other ones.