#from the moment he left the sitcom to the credits i was just staring at the screen in absolute shock

[xmcu-fietro]

just watched the finale of Kevin Can F Himself and I’m at a loss for words. During season two there were times when I wasn’t sure if I liked where the story seemed to be headed, but I take it all back now. My jaw is on the floor

[yuzukult]

i’m bad too 15 || kdy & reader

title: i’m bad too - drabble series pairing: kim doyoung x reader genre: angst, fluff, smut, goodboy!doyoung, nerdy!dy (basically he’s a dork) & badgirl!reader, hitman!au, oc-isn’t-a-hitman-but-she-could-be!au, word count: 1.8k warnings: none !! a/n: a “leading” chapter, before something actually happens! so, not the most exciting, but... yeah. :D

please let me know if anyone wants to be tagged! taglist: @wownajaemin​​​​ @crescent-iak​​​​ @ncttboo​​​​ @byunbaekby​​​​​ @jinfizz​​ @doyoungyoung​​ @ahgayeah0305​​ @doyobun​​ @sexualitaeyong​ @mrkleelvr​​ @m1ss-foodi3​​

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If it’s one thing you’ve learned about yourself, it’s that you hate when Ten chews his food with his mouth open. He chomps it like a cow munching on grass, and sometimes, he even makes those weird wet sounds if the food is soft and squishy enough.

But after laying in a hospital bed for a week, unable to speak, you’re missing the ability to call your big brother ‘disgusting’ across the table, toss something in his direction, and him opening his mouth to show the contents of his dinner inside.

“Are you fucking insane? You let her go into hellfire, knowing damn well she wasn’t protected?” The voice is familiar, loud, and straining, like they’re on the verge of tears but too instilled with anger to let the sadness seep through. “I thought I said to keep her fucking safe if you wanted to work together.”

“I don’t work in the field, Ten. I don’t control what happens at the moment.”

“Yeah, but you set the commands. You give the orders. She’s fucking on her deathbed, Taeyong—“

“Don’t fucking say my name in public,” he hisses through his gritted teeth. “Listen. If it’s not her, it’s me.”

“I’d rather it be you.”

“You need me, Ten. Who is gonna do the dirty work for you? Look at those pretty fingers. You wouldn’t hurt a soul. But your sister—you know damn well she’s got potential to be more. This is just a hurl she’s jumping over. When she recovers—“

“You’ve got to be fucking insane, you think I’m gonna let her go back out there when you put her in harms way?”

Before the conversation could continue, you hear the door click shut, and the shuffling of flat shoes tapping against the cold tiles, reaching to your bedside. You can’t see, your body won’t let you fully awaken, and you can’t speak with this tube lodged in your throat. But the whiff of the cologne that comes hits your nostrils is a familiar one. It’s Doyoung.

He sighs, like he’s been troubled and you can’t even blame him. You told him not to worry, that you’d stay safe, and here you are—unable to move, unable to wake up, unable to breathe on your own, and unable to talk.

You hear his moments; the scuffing of his oversized denim jacket against the leather seat by your bed, browsing through the drawers with each push and slam until he finds what he’s looking for, and when you hear the television turn on, you could only assume it was for the remote.

“I wonder if they have Marvel movies playing,” he says, seemingly to no one in particular until you realize he’s speaking to you, in spite of the fact that you’re very much in a deep sleep. “I know they’re not your favorite, but you tolerate it. I never got to ask what kind of movies you liked. I… I guess I was being a little selfish when you gave me attention that I never considered to ask.”

You wanna tell him that you actually don’t even like movies, in fact, you prefer sitcoms in spite of your very evident opposite personality. If you could, you would tell him that you watch those superhero movies because he’s into them, that if you get to see that pretty little smile on his face, it makes you forget all your problems and… the moment is worthwhile.

Warmth reaches your fingers, and you could only assume that it’s Doyoung holding your hand. It’s a familiar feeling of home, like you’re meant to be here with him, except the current setting isn’t necessarily favored.

“Do you like Spongebob?” He asks, as if you could even respond. “Mm. Doesn’t really seem like your thing, but I feel like you’re the type to not look like you enjoy it, but you actually love it because it’s annoying.”

He’s… right. You want to laugh, genuinely laugh because Kim Doyoung is spot on with his prediction. He knows you better than he gives himself credit for, because he doesn’t change the channel and watches the TV with you.

“I bet you like sitcoms,” Doyoung mentions randomly, eyes still on the screen. “Like maybe not Modern Family, but maybe like… Parks and Rec. You don’t seem like you’d enjoy the Office too much, maybe Michael Scott is too much of a character but Andy Bernard looks like a guy you’d scare to the point he’d piss his pants, but you’d like him.” Again, you think to yourself. Because Doyoung got it right yet again.

He’s quiet for a bit, letting Spongebob play in the background and you could hear the conversation between Spongebob and Patrick. Truthfully, you don’t know what’s actually happening, but the feeling of being with Doyoung like this, hand in hand with something stupid playing on TV is your favorite.

It’s casual. No missions, no guns, no family business—just you and Doyoung.

Doyoung doesn’t say much on the day you finally wake up. With a tube wedged down your throat, it’s difficult to have a two-way conversation anyways, and seeing you like this probably breaks his heart, so any word that leaves his mouth might be with a stutter and a sob.

Spongebob plays on the television for another hour before Doyoung eventually breaks the glass of quietude, letting out a soft chuckle at something Patrick said. “Sorry,” he apologizes quickly, glancing over at you. “Wasn’t sure if you liked Spongebob.” Although you can’t speak, the soft squeeze of his hand gives away your approval, and a gentle smile tugs on his face.

There's another moment of silence, just before Doyoung lowers the volume of the TV before gathering enough courage to talk. It takes a lot to get himself to speak up against you, someone he sort of feared yet at the same time had strong feelings for.

“I know what you do,” he announces, eyes never leaving the flickering screen with cartoon characters under the deep blue sea do stupid things, unmatching to what he wants to say next. “I can’t say that I totally get it, because I don’t. I’d be lying if I said I did, but… you do those things, and I’m not a hundred percent sure what to make out of it, but I get why it was hard to confess… those things.” He runs his fingers through his greasy locks, accumulating in oils from how long he’s stayed here without going home to shower. “I kind of thought I was going to date someone really simple one day, yaknow? Settle down with a girl who has a job, sweet and kind, with the same end goal in mind. Get married, have kids… all that fun stuff.”

Your nose twitches at that. Because you’re definitely not that.

“But then I met you, which is… well,” he lets out a faint laugh, “... the complete opposite of all of that. You’re dangerous, cold, and oftentimes, I’m left hanging by a thread, confused on what we are and what I actually mean to you.”

If you could, you’d interrupt him right then and there. Tell him your sorrys, belatedly confessing your true feelings for him, let him know you’d be better for real this time, but truthfully, you’re not sure if he’ll believe you anyway.

“And I could just drop everything right now. Just get up, leave, move on. Tell you that I don’t want this anymore, that whatever you’re in, I don’t wanna be roped in and get involved in your baggage.” It’s like you could hear the cracking of your heart as it falls into the depths of your stomach because your chest feels empty when he says that. The worst part is when you can’t defend yourself, tell him that it’s not like that, but in the end, Doyoung does it for you.

“Yet, I’m still here, right? Because I don’t get you, I don’t get whatever it is you got yourself caught up in, but… after knowing, it oddly makes me… trust you more. So, I’ll stay.”

“Fuck,” Ten curses underneath his breath, getting slightly frustrated with the wheelchair being caught on the steps of your home again. “Fucking shit, nothing here is disability accessible.”

It’s still hard to talk, but a weak laugh escapes from your lips.

“Don’t laugh, you’re the one in the wheelchair not doing shit.”

When he gets you through the front door, and into the hallway, you can’t help but stare at Ten curiously. He furrows his brows at this, hands at his hips with a gesture of his chin. “What’s in your head?”

“Uh,” it’s straining to speak, but if not now, it’s never. “I overheard a conversation when I was asleep. I-I don’t know if it was a dream or… I don’t know. But I heard you talking to someone, uh, someone particularly… with a reputation.”

His body goes rigid.

“Right,” you state, feeling more confident that the discussion was definitely not a dream. “So this entire time, you’ve been working with the organization?” Ten only sucks his cheeks, unable to formulate a proper rebuttal, so you take advantage of this. “This whole time, you let them constantly probe and ask me to be part of them—”

“I told him not to—”

“Well, he’s been asking, Ten, and he hasn’t stopped. I got contracted to be part of them temporarily, not permanently. This was supposed to be a one and done deal, you realize that, right?”

He scoffs. “You think that anything you do with Lee Taeyong could just be easily brushed under the rug? Hell no, you have to be insanely rich to pay off that guy. He thinks you’re talented, you know? What do you think this is?”

“I could just get up and leave—” “In your fucking dreams, kid,” Ten lets out a chuckle of disbelief, shaking his head. “I agreed to work with him before I knew that you were already contracted with him. There’s shady people in the business. There’s so many messed-up dudes who would bend the laws to get what they want. I don’t want that, but I have to protect myself.”

“But—”

“Wanna hear something, kid? Taeyong doesn’t think this accident,” Ten gestures to your wounds, heart tightening at the sight of you in pain. “... this accident, is just… it. He calls this an obstacle. He thinks this is just a bump in your progress, something you need to overcome before you hop back into the field and start training all over again. He’s not gonna let this go, doesn’t matter if I’m his client. Fuck, kid, he has a shit ton of clients.”

Uneasily, you grip onto the wheels of your seat. “Then what do you want me to do?”

“It’s your loss, kid. Either kill Taeyong and take his seat or you gotta work for him.”

[tellmealovestory]

Planning

Summary: Planning for the wedding has begun with choosing a color palette. 

Notes: Also posted on my ao3. Part of Something More

I know that it’s been awhile since I’ve last posted and even longer since I’ve updated this and for that I am so sorry. The past few months have been rough and I’ve been struggling to write anything, but I’m trying which is what counts I guess. 

I haven’t forgotten about Something New - there’s for sure one more part, possibly two, but for now here’s something and again I am so sorry for how long it’s been taking me to get these posted. 

Warnings: Surprisingly none - unless you count idiots in love falling more in love.

"Black and yellow?"

"No."

"Purple, orange and black?"

"No."

"Red, white and blue?"

"Bucky, no!" Laughing at his suggestions you playfully shoved his shoulder as he shot you a grin full of mischief. “Besides, I think those are more Steve's colors."

“You opposed to pastels?" His grin only widened when you wrinkled your nose in distaste. "Red and pink?"

“Red and pink isn't the worst idea you've had," you mused, a thought working its way into your mind as you eyed the mess that surrounded you.

“Sweetheart-,” he started, but you silenced him with a look.

Reaching for a bridal magazine, one of many that laid scattered across the floor of the living room where you were both currently seated you flipped through it while Bucky continued to rattle off suggestions. Frowning, you pushed it aside before grabbing another one. Finding what you were looking for you showed him a spread with dark reds and pinks and a gold that had the barest hint of a shimmer. It was for a Valentine’s Day wedding and while you weren’t getting married on that date you still thought it was pretty.

One look at his face told he wasn’t impressed.

"Neons would be better,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders, his fingers flicking a brightly colored post it note that was sticking out from the magazine.

"Please tell me you're joking."

"Maybe."  

“James!”

And this time he was the first to laugh, the richness of his voice filling up the room and drowning out the sitcom dialogue that drifted from the television a few feet in front of you.

He made it difficult at times like these to get and stay annoyed at him, but nevertheless you made an attempt with a glare shot in his direction. It was useless though when he was looking at you like that. All bright blue eyes shining with a love that still managed to steal your breath anytime he glanced at you. Laugh lines around his mouth and before you had a chance to warn him that he was seconds away from not having any say in your wedding colors he was tilting his body towards yours, lips landing on the side of your head. An innocent kiss, but it sent your heart spiraling.

Almost as much as when he murmured against your skin with breath that was warm and smelled of the chocolate ice cream you’d been sharing, “Alright, show me what you were thinking.”

Waking up your sleeping laptop that rested on the coffee table you expertly navigated the rabbit hole of Pinterest. Scrolling past boards you had created for flowers and centerpiece ideas, dresses and cakes you found the one titled colors.

A sea of palettes stared back at you; turquoises, magentas, oranges and yellows. Mints and whites. Pastel purples and soft pinks, creams and pale blues that screamed romantic. Greens and blushes. Purple and grays.

And finally, towards the bottom of the board a mix of navy blues, grays and burgundy. Burnt oranges and peaches. Sunflower yellows and dusty blues.

A  collection of colors that reminded you of him.

“Something like this I thought.” Chewing on your lower lip you glanced from Bucky to the screen and back again. Anticipation thrummed through your veins as you waited for him to say something.

“It’s a lot of blues.”

“You look good in blue.”

“All the burgundy?”

“You also look really good in burgundy.”

“You really picking colors based on how I look in them?”

“No,” you scoffed with a quick roll of your eyes that he saw right through. “Okay, fine, but it’s not the only reason.”

“You gonna share those other reasons?” He asked, leaning forward to take a closer look.

"Um... I... like those colors?" Even to your own ears the words rang false. "And they're a better choice than the random ones you were shouting out." There another reason added to your list.

"Y/N," Bucky said, amusement dripped from his voice and he bit back a smile as he pushed the laptop towards the middle of the coffee table.

For a moment the only sound in the apartment was that of a commercial advertising pizza.

Turning to you he cradled your face in his hands. "You know no ones gonna be looking at me," he said softly, the pad of his thumb brushed across your cheekbone. "They're all gonna be looking at you and how beautiful you are."

"I haven't found something to wear yet."

"Doesn't matter, sweetheart."

Biting your lip your eyes danced between his and you couldn't help asking, "What if I get a really poofy dress and I end up looking like a cupcake again?"

It was a struggle for Bucky not to laugh at the mention of a cupcake. A million memories ago, but he could still remember that night. Your fathers wedding to his new, younger bride, the hideous pink dress she had made you to wear, the endless teasing you had endured from him, the new nickname he had bestowed upon you before you banned him from ever calling you that again. In his mind it didn't matter if when your wedding came you wore a dress that made you look like a cupcake, drenched in pink that looked as if it came from a jumbo sized bottle of pepto-bismol you'd still be beautiful in his eyes.

Dipping his head down he brushed his lips against yours in a kiss sweeter than any cupcake he had ever tasted.

"Doesn't matter," he whispered again, his mouth moving over yours slowly. "You’re still gonna be the most beautiful person in the room, cupcake."

It was hard to kiss him back when your lips were curling up into a smile, a laugh bubbling to the surface followed by a rush of memories at the mention of cupcake. He hadn’t called you that in years and though you still hated it you didn’t have it in you right now to tell him to shove it.

“Is that your way of telling me you hate my choices?” You asked, breathless from the feeling of his lips against yours. “No,” he laughed, stealing another kiss. “It’s my way of saying you should really give my suggestions another chance.”

“Buc-,”

“I’m kidding!”

Another kiss, this one to your forehead as the commercial ended and the sitcom returned. Turning your attentions back to the screen at the same time you rested your head on his shoulder, eyes scanning through the options again, his for the second time and yours for what felt like the hundredth since first compiling the list.

“I really do like these colors. Especially this one,” you said, bringing up a palette with dusty and navy blues, marigold and a hint of dark green.

No matter how many options you had looked at you kept going back to it. It was pretty and it was an added bonus that he looked in most of those colors.

“That the one you want?”

Biting your lip you switched back to your second choice. Navy blue, maroon and gray. More colors he looked good in, more colors that you had been drawn to, but in your heart you knew which one you wanted.

“Yeah, but what do you think?”

“I like it,” he said.

“You agreed to that awfully quick.” Your tone was light and you couldn’t help asking, “Are you only saying that cause you’re tired of looking?”

“No. ‘M saying it cause you like it.” His eyes darted down to the shiny engagement ring that sat pretty on your ring finger. Lifting his gaze up he continued, “And cause I don’t care about the colors.”

No sooner did the words leave his mouth and he was left scrambling to explain when he saw your widened eyes.

“Sweetheart.” His hand slid along your cheek. “Whatever colors you choose are gonna be fine, but I’m not gonna be paying attention to them. Our friends and family might, but the only thing I’m gonna be paying attention to is you and how I’m finally marrying the woman of my dreams.”

His words sunk in amid the closing credits of a sitcom and as tears welled in your eyes and your laptop drifted off to sleep the only words you could manage were a breathless, “Oh, Bucky.”

You had never thought planning your wedding would be so emotional.

You kissed him softly, savoring the way his lips moved against yours in a practiced ease that still made your stomach fill with butterflies. Just as he was about to deepen the kiss you pulled back with a start and a flurry of questions.

“Wait, if you don’t care about this why did we spend two hours looking and why did you offer such awful suggestions?”

Bucky swallowed, his cheeks flushing deep pink. “You asked me to,” he said simply, before adding on as his cheeks turned even darker, “Maybe I wanted to make you laugh a bit.”

Mission accomplished.

Parting your lips to speak he beat you to it saying, “I also wanted to spend time with you and I know how much planning this means to you.”

It felt as if your heart was going to burst right out of your chest. You didn’t know anyone who would willingly want to spend that much time going over colors, debating between two shades that were nearly identical when they could have been doing something they enjoyed.

Searching for the words to tell him all of that you came up empty, settling with a simple, but true, "I love you, Bucky."

Which you followed up with another sweet kiss, once again marveling at how lucky you were to be marrying him.

[loserholland]

𝐀 𝐬𝐲𝐦𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐲 | 𝐁.𝐁

Pairing ➺ Bucky Barnes x Fem!Stark!Reader ft Morgan Stark (platonic)

Warning ➺ Slight TFATWS spoiler, some angst, pure fluff, Morgan being a comedian 

Word Count ➺ 2.9k

Summary ➺ After the blip and loosing his best friend, you were there to keep Bucky grounded.

A/N ➺ Based off the song “I hear a symphony” by Cody Fry, such an amazing song. I’M ALSO SO SORRY IF I’M A LITTLE RUSTY 

✿ 𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 ✿ - @loveyathreethousand @killerqueen-gunpowdergelatine @spideyyypeter @lou-la-lou​@babebenhardy @rivervixenbaby @acklesholland @zabdisamor @keepingupwiththehollands @sweet666pea @sspider-parker @jackiehollanderr @caro0512 @thewinchesterchronicles @cporter003 @kisses-holland @spideysnugget @cryszus @sunflowerharrystyles @peterunderoos @ohbabycal @laucontrerasv​ @spider-mendes​ @jessybellsworld​ @quaksonhehe​

☞  Masterlist  ☜

Five years.

It had been five years before everyone returned, five years since Thanos snapped his fingers and wiped nearly 50% of the content. Five years of darkness, questioning whether or not those who turned to dust would come back. The thought of those who disappeared never coming back scared everyone, the thought of never seeing your mother, father, daughter, son- your friends and siblings again?

(Y/N) was one of the lucky ones to not turn to dust, but watching those around her slowly disintegrate never failed to bring her to tears every night. She was lucky enough to fight along side everyone, disobeying Tony’s order of staying put and “letting the adults handle it” she instead convinced Rhodey to let her follow, claiming if he let her he’d be her favorite uncle.

That’s where she saw him again, after nearly two years since Berlin. She had of course stuck by her father’s side and when he had gone to Sibera she stood with him. That’s when they had learned the winter soldier had killed her father’s parents. (Y/N) never entirely blamed Bucky, he never did it. It was the Winter Solider, not Bucky.

Tony always said she had her mothers heart and if her mom was still around she’d be proud of her, for always trying to see the best in people whether they’re good or bad.

“Wow, you’ve grown kid.”

𝘐 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨

A voice all too familiar spoke slowly she turned on her heels, his hair was still long it grew merely a few inches. He had also grown out his beard, the last time she had saw him it was more over stumble. She chuckled lightly stepping forward but keeping some distance between them, “Kid? I’m twenty-one James, plus we’ve been over this- I hate it when you guys call me kid!”

Bucky let out a small laughter showing off his pearly white teeth, there was always something about Bucky that made (Y/N)’s stomach fill with butterflies. I mean- who wouldn’t? Bucky was a handsome man.

𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨

“How have you been old-man?”

(Y/N) was the only person who had called Bucky by his first name, of course you had seen his files and even read about him smithsonian exhibit. She just felt she didn’t have the right to call him Bucky due to not knowing him long enough.

“James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes” she read to herself, reading the following description of the man.

That’s when you first saw how handsome this he was. And, when you first met him in Berlin it was amazing to see him up close. Well it’s not so amazing when some dumbass breached the centre and turned him back into the winter solider for a minute causing him to well fight everyone in his path.

After your dad’s ass was handed to him, he surely handed your ass to you he had you in a choke hold against the wall, your feet was a few inches above the ground.

“James, please.”

He’s eyes widened every so slightly tightening his metal hand around your throat, you felt yourself slide down against the wall gasping for air watching as T’Challa and him fought one another.

“I’ve been good, I’ve never felt so- calm an at peace in a while.”

(Y/N) smiled, that was good, it was good to see him happy for once and not afraid he’ll hurt someone again. He was brave and strong, from what she had read in the smithsonian exhibit and what she had seen in the past two years.

“Guys lets go, and kid stop leaving my sight your dad will kill me if anything happens!” (Y/N) groaned and stomped her feet to the ground “Uncle Rhodey! Stop calling me kid!” Bucky only chuckled at her, a sense of warmth filled his body- an uncommon warmth.

𝘕𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘦𝘸

(Y/N) knocked on Bucky’s apartment door, “Why aren’t we at the zoo yet?” Morgan questioned looking up at her older sister in confusion- Pepper was out of town dealing with business so she had to bring Morgan along to her.

When everyone came back, she had grown closer to Bucky. They had both lost someone, she had lost her father and he lost his best friend. Ever since her father’s death, she would dream about him often it started to become a regular thing after she started hanging out with Bucky. Last night’s dream, he had told her that if she got with Barnes he would be okay with it and to also apologize for blasting his arm off. Maybe it was just her subconscious playing tricks on her.

She crouched down slightly to be the same height as her sister, “Babe, remember I told you that my friend James would be coming along?” just then the door opened causing (Y/N) to fall back at the sudden movement. Instead of helping her sister up or asking if she was okay, she laughed and said “You fell on your booty.” oh, she was definitely Tony Starks daughter.

Bucky quickly helped her up apologizing for giving her a small fright, she noticed something different about Bucky he had cut his long hair. Just a few days ago he had it up in a man bun, “You cut your hair?” his brows furrowed, he ran his gloved fingers through his freshly cut hair “Does it look bad?” worry laced his voice.

(Y/N) quickly shook her head, “No! It looks good!” Morgan looked between the two adults standing in front of her before she let out a dramatic sigh, “Can we go now?” with that Bucky locked grabbed his keys and locked the front door as they proceeded towards the elevator.

The Central Park Zoo was in walkable distance, so (Y/N) left he car parked in the garage of Bucky’s apartment. Morgan stared at Bucky gloved hand she tilted her head slightly before asking, “Why are you wearing gloves? Aren’t your hands sweating?” (Y/N) eyes widened looking at the top of Morgan’s head then to Bucky who was laughing.

“Morgan!”

“It’s a serious question.” she shrugged as she kicked her feet awaiting for an answer, “Well because, this arm-” he lifted his left arm “is made out of vibranium.” Morgan looked up at him before saying, “Cool- now swing!” she grabbed his hand causing (Y/N) to look at Bucky. She knew he was a bit touch sensitive, “Mor-” before she could say her sister’s name again Bucky cut her off “It’s okay. I’ll be fine.” he took her small hand into his before pulling his arm back then forward.

𝘐 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶

Bucky watched as you smiled whenever Morgan would let out a small giggle, he felt the same warmth he did back in Wakanda. The same warmth she could only give him. He was grateful to have her in his life, she gave him the benefit of the doubt seeing the good and accepting the bad. He knew that she knew his history but still befriended him anyways saying, “there’s good in everyone even if you can’t see the good in you, I do.”

“How has therapy been going?” They stood behind the four year old who was admiring the penguins. Bucky shrugged lightly fixing his gaze to his shoes, “‘ts been good.” he mumbled. It had been about two weeks since he started therapy with Dr.Christina Raynor, you knew he had trouble opening up and well at most times never opened up at all. 

Morgan came running back to the two, “I wanna see the red pandas.” she grabbed theirs hands and began to drag them towards her current favorite animal at the moment.

She wondered if he still had nightmares, there were times he’d call her just to talk because he couldn’t go back to sleep. The sound of an old sitcom could be heard in the background anytime he’d call.

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘴, 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦

Bucky watched as (Y/N) carried Morgan in her arms pointing at the red pandas, red pandas? How are they even pandas? Bucky thought to himself, watching as (Y/N) made Morgan giggle loudly she must have said some kind of joke. He watched as she turned her head slightly catching her eye, he began to notice this twinkle whenever she was smiling or talking about something she’s passionate about or enjoyed.

"So, what did you think?” the credits of Harry Potter and the philosopher's stone began to roll in.  As far as Bucky knew, the only wizard he had read about before was Gandalf in the hobbit. Who would’ve thought about writing a book about a 11 year old wizard?

“It was surprisingly good.” He watched as her eyes lit up the corners of her lips tugging upwards.  He loved to see her smile, to see the twinkle in her eye just before she spoke on about how much she loved something.

“I knew you would like it! Gosh it’s amazing- I could go on about the wizarding world but I’m sure you would rather not-”

“I have the time.”

(Y/N) had concluded Bucky would belong in Hufflepuff and basically forced him to take the pottermore test in which she was correct, he was in fact a hufflepuff. She had gone on why he’s in hufflepuff- though he didn’t really care about the reasons he just wanted to hear her talk.

“You have a lovely family.”

The comment caused Bucky to turn his head slightly pulling him from the recent memory, an elderly woman who seemed to be in her late sixties gave him a warm smile. “Uh- she’s actually my-” what is she to me?  Before Bucky could answer (Y/N) had walked over with Morgan still in her arms.

“Hey, ready to go?”

Before Bucky could answer the lady spoke again, “I was just telling your husband you have a lovely family.” (Y/N) eyes widened her mouth slightly agape before responding, “We’re actual friends and, she’s my younger sister.” friends.

“Oh, my apologies. Have a great rest of your day.”

(Y/N) gave the lady a warm smile watching as she walked away, “Well, I think you’ve seen enough animals don’t you think?” Morgan tapped her index finger against her chin pinching her brows together, sometimes she was just a mini version of your dad or sometimes Pepper- but mostly Tony.

“Yeah- I’m hungry.” 

Making their way towards the exit the gift shop had caught Morgan’s eye, specifically a red panda plush she shrieked loudly causing (Y/N) to jump with caution thinking something was wrong with her little sister, while Bucky stood there with his eyes widened.

“I need it!”

(Y/N)’s brows furrowed, “Morgan- you know mom is gonna be mad at me if I get you yet another red panda plush. Remember, you have like a billion of them.” Morgan pouted slightly crossed her arms across her chest and stomped away.

“Dad would’ve gotten it for me!” (Y/N) frowned at the comment, of course he would’ve- he loved seeing the smile on your face anytime he got you something whether you were five or nineteen. 

𝘗𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘦

“I’ll meet you guys outside- I’m gonna use the restroom.” Bucky spoke, watching as she ran after her little sister. Well- he didn’t actually need to use the restroom- he had gotten the plush Morgan was head over heels for. He waited a couple minutes before finally exiting the zoo spotting (Y/N) holding Morgan in her lap as they sat on a bench not too far from the exit.

He held the plush behind his back, as he drew closer he could hear Morgan sob quietly. He sat down next to (Y/N) leaning his head slightly onto her shoulder, “Hey Morgan.” the five year old pulled back slightly wiping the back of her sleeve across her nose lips still in a pout.

Slowly he pulled the plush that was hidden behind his back into view, watching as Morgan’s eyes widened an a huge smile paint her lips quickly she snatched it from his hand and hugged it turning her body from side to side.

Morgan hopped out of her sister’s lap and onto Bucky’s wrapping her arms around his neck, “Thank you, thank you!” she chanted catching Bucky off guard as he slowly wrapped his arms around her.

“Anytime kid.” 

They walked back to Bucky’s apartment in comfortable silence, Morgan squealing every here and there every time she hugged her new plush. Once they had reached his apartment, Bucky offered for the two to stay for pizza which Morgan quickly agreed to. 

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭, 𝘣𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘳

(Y/N) and Bucky situated themselves in the kitchen cross from each other- (Y/N) sat on a stool while Bucky stood. Meanwhile Morgan was in the living room distracted with her new plush, “Thank you for getting her the plush- I- I just didn’t know how to react when she said-” Bucky placed his hand over hers squeezing it reassuringly, she squeezed back giving him a warm smile. They stayed like this for a few minutes before (Y/N) cleared her throat causing Bucky to pull his hand away. 

“You never answered my question earlier, about therapy.” She watched as he tensed at the word therapy, truth be told. He was struggling, he was still having nightmares and he was having trouble opening up to his therapist. He gets annoyed whenever she pulls out her notebook and starts to scribble stuff down.

“I made amends with um- Senator Atwood. No one got hurt.” (Y/N) nodded, “That’s good! Any progress with Dr.Raynor?” Bucky sighed lightly, running his fingers through his hair, “Kind of? I mean every time I tell her I haven’t had a nightmare she gets all aggressive and writes in her notebook.” 

𝘖𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘸𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦

She frowned slightly, taking his hands into hers “James, you sometimes talk to me about your nightmares right?” he nodded slightly ushering her to continue, “You have to slowly open up- it’s gonna help James. And If you want, I’ll go with you. I’ll wait in the waiting room- whatever it takes to get you to talk.”

She cared so much about him, it made her chest feel heavy. She would do anything for him.

𝘐 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨

He had spent nearly seventy years as someone else, he was afraid that after he erased his past it would still catch up to him someday. That he would still become the winter solider even after all this therapy and time away.

𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨

But you were there to reassure him that would never happen, that he was a good person and no longer the person he use to be. She was there to reassure him that he was James Buchanan Barnes and not the winter solider.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘥𝘺

You were the light in his darkness, you were there to guide him and to stay by his side. He thought you’d run away after what he had done to your grandparents but you’re there to remind him that he had no choice that HYDRA had control over him but you knew deep down he tried to fight it.

Bucky tugged his hands back quickly pulling away from the counter and walked around to engulf (Y/N) into a hug, he was afraid that if he were to allow himself to love someone they’d only end up hurt. He didn’t want to loose her, he didn’t want to scare you away.

“Please don’t leave.”

(Y/N) quickly shook her head, “Why would I leave? I would never leave you Bucky.” he pulled away slightly, did he hear that right? “Did you just call me Bucky?” her eyes widened, “Oh I’m so-” he cupped her cheeks closing the gap between the two placing capturing her lips. Something he had been waiting to do.

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘐 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘢 𝘴𝘺𝘮𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘺

It was exactly like how people described sharing a kiss with someone they’ve longed to be with, fireworks and butterflies the way your skin heats up and your cheeks turn into a tomato red.

(Y/N) wrapped her hand around his wrist pulling back slightly for air a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, “Hello? Did you guys not here the door? Someone pay the guy!” Morgan carried the huge box of pizza and placed it onto her sisters lap before turning away to the living room. She quickly fetched her wallet wanting to beat Bucky from paying- but he knocked her wallet out of her hands and quickly rushed to the door.

She had given her sister a slice of pizza and ushered her to go back to the living room, “You make it seem as if I never saw people kiss before.” Morgan stuck her tongue out at her sister before returning to the living room.

“So-” Bucky began leaning against the doorway of the kitchen (Y/N) running up to him to wrap her arms around his neck the impact causing the two to fall to the ground with a loud thud. “You know- know a days people usually go on dates before the first kiss.” (Y/N) joked causing Bucky to smile, “Well in that case. (Y/N) would you like to go out tomorrow?” she quickly pecked his lips.

“I’d love to Bucky.”

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘐 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘈 𝘴𝘺𝘮𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘺

[bestkindofbeehive]

Smile for Me Week, Day 1: Secret

happy smile for me week!!! for my first trick, have a fic I wrote after thinking about my dad too hard. it ends well and it was pretty cathartic for me, but it does get a bit emotionally intense re: feelings about having to stay closeted in front of your parents for years, so fair warning. but it does end well I promise!!! I’ll probably post this on ao3 soon too, so look out for that!

-----

Never in a million years would Parsley have ever expected that being stuck in the same slapdash “mental health” retreat as his dad would end in anything other than frustration. And, to be fair, that was how things went for a while. But then that weird florist handed him one of his dad’s terrible dishes, and before he knew it he was getting drunk off his ass and actually talking to his dad for the first time in... years, probably. Somehow it wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. The Kahlúa and birthday cake flavored vodka probably helped.

And then he’d been woken up in the middle of the night and suddenly urged out of the giant front gates with very little reason why— something something carbon monoxide poisoning. Not that Parsley really needed convincing to get the hell out of there at that point. Even a constant flow of free alcohol probably wouldn’t have kept him there for much longer. Those last PSAs were getting pretty creepy and, well, incredibly specific and aggressive towards one particular person. He had hoped that chicken te- flower vendor made it out alright, but he saw them a few days later in town. So things couldn’t have ended too badly.

The most astonishing thing, though, was the fact that he and his dad actually kept talking once they got out of that place. And he somehow didn’t wind up wanting to tear his hair out by the end of every conversation, even. Of course his dad frustrated him plenty of times, but it never got bad bad like it used to. Things between them were... good. Not good good, but just. Good.

So good, in fact, that Parsley manages to somehow metaphorically vomit up the words necessary to tell his dad he wasn’t attracted to women. He wasn’t even drunk— tipsy, certainly, but he was painfully in control of all his faculties that night.

It went... well. He knows the night ended on good terms, and he knows his dad didn’t get angry. He’s pretty sure his dad told him he loved him at some point, which is a good sign. It only happened a few weeks ago. He isn’t really ready to think about it very hard in any capacity. He’s scared that he’ll go looking for some specific sign, or a phrase, or a look— something that definitively tells him that his dad doesn’t look at him and wish he had another son— and come up empty.

Parsley takes what he can get, until what he can get isn’t enough anymore.

The tension finally breaks one evening; almost six months to the day they both left the Habitat. They were watching the end of some melodrama that was airing right before the hilariously disorganized cooking show they both enjoyed. And the stupid thing is that Parsley can’t even remember what his dad said that set him off so bad— but, god, his dad would know just the right string of words to tick him off enough to say something. It was something about keeping secrets. Something about how he didn’t understand why some people keep harmless stuff so close to their chest for no reason. Which is rich coming from him, the man who has to bluster his way through every emotional conversation he’s ever had. Parsley would be seeing red if his eyes weren’t already that color.

“See, I mean, like with your whole, uh, situation— Not that I’m tryin’ to rag on you or anything, sprig, but I just don’t see why you didn’t just go on and tell me! I wouldn't've been mad at you or nothin’,” Jimothan says, gladly shoving his entire foot in his mouth for the sake of scolding Parsley, just like old times.

Parsley, to his credit, doesn’t immediately blow up. “You didn’t exactly make it the easiest thing to do,” he says, his voice clipped and his jaw tense. His dad makes a bewildered noise next to him; a noise that wouldn’t be out of place in a sitcom.

“Now what’s that supposed to mean? I always told you that you could talk to me about anything, didn’t I?” Jimothan asks. The look of genuine confusion on his face almost makes Parsley want to drop it and just keep watching tv, but the fuse has already been lit.

“Sure, if you forget about all the times you showed me that definitely wasn’t true,” Parsley scoffs, pretending to focus on the tv again. The melodrama is still going. The character on screen is crying big, unrealistic tears. Parsley can’t make out what they’re crying about over the blood starting to rush through his ears. Every neural pathway in his brain left over from his teens is yelling at him to just let dad think that he’s right so the lecture that hasn’t even started will stop.

“What’re you— Parsley, what the heck are you talkin’ about? I’ve never— When have I ever said somethin’ that would make you think I wouldn’t—”

Something in his dad’s tone immediately sets Parsley’s blood to a boil. He sounds like he doesn’t understand; like he doesn’t even know where this is even coming from. He has no idea. Fuck, would it hurt less if his dad tried to justify himself instead? If he sounded angry instead of confused? Because this means that he just doesn’t know. Decades of hiding and bullshit and being afraid and he just didn’t know.

“Are you KIDDING ME?” Parsley fires back, eyes wide open and blood red. Jimothan almost jumps, having not been witness to his son’s temper in a while. “When HAVEN’T you said something that would make me think you wouldn’t approve? I wouldn’t— I couldn’t go a day without you making some comment about how I needed to get a girlfriend, or- or- how you couldn’t wait to have grandkids, or some other stupid thing about me “finally” getting a wife someday—” Parsley rants, his voice stuttering with the anger flying around in his chest.

Jimothan at least has the decency to look a bit stunned. “But— Oh c’mon Parsley, that was just me tryin’ to give you a little push! I thought you were havin’ a tough time talking to girls, so I figured I would just give you some pointers—”

“No! That’s just it! You just had to build up and build up this— this idea of what I was supposed to do! Every time you just had to make a comment like that it was another bullet on the fist— LIST of all the things I wasn’t doing right,” Parsley flusters. At some point in his rant his hands find their way to his head, and he tries to run his fingers through his hair to calm himself down, but they keep catching on tangles. “A-And you wanna act like I shouldn’t have been scared to tell you, but you—!”

“Scared?” His dad’s expression breaks a little, which just makes this awful situation all the more difficult. Shit. Shit shit shit, this wasn’t how this was supposed to happen. It shouldn’t even be happening, but the fire in Parsley’s chest isn’t dying down and he can’t keep his traitor mouth shut.

“Sprig, you didn’t have any reason to be scared, it woulda been fi—” Jimothan tries to start.

“Ugh, you’re not LISTENING!” Parsley feels like he’s seconds away from tearing his hair out. God, he sounds like such a teenager. “It wasn’t that easy! Of course I was scared! How the hell could I have explained— I just—!!” 

“HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO TELL YOU I WASN’T THE SON YOU WANTED?!” Parsley finally screams.

The room gets quiet frighteningly fast. His dad just stares at him, his face slack with a cocktail of confusion, surprise, and what Parsley wants to hope is sadness.

Suddenly, all the anger and half-hearted bravado flies out of Parsley’s chest. His arms fall to his sides, and he’s left panting with the exertion of having just spilled out a flood of emotions that have been building since he was in elementary school. He doesn’t feel relieved. He just feels tired.

And then he starts crying. Which is just... great. As if this night needed some extra turmoil to really polish things off. Like most times, he can’t even stop himself; he was never good about not wearing his heart on his sleeve. Not his anger, not his disappointment, and definitely not his heartache. It’s not even a “dignified cry”, as his dad would put it— he’s hiding his face in his hands, and he can’t stop his shoulders from shaking every time he tries to suck in a stuttery breath.

He probably looks pretty pathetic right now, Parsley thinks. And in a few moments he’ll hear his dad get up and walk out of his apartment while mumbling something about seeing him later. And then in about a week’s time, Parsley will answer the phone, hear his dad’s voice, and both of them will never speak of this night ever again.

But something different happens.

Instead, he feels his dad’s sturdy hands take him by the shoulders and pull him into a firm hug. It’s an awkward thing; Parsley’s hands were still covering his face, so now they’re kind of pinned to his chest, and his dad is squeezing him just slightly too hard. They’re both out of practice, really.

Before Parsley can manage a “whuh” in response, he hears more than sees his dad take in a big, faltering breath while his shoulders start to shake. Parsley has only seen his dad cry a handful of times in his life. Most of them happened around the time the divorce was finalized. But after that... Nothing.

Jimothan makes a wounded noise of a sob. “Y-You’re— God, sprig, I would never...” he starts, but can’t find the words to finish. Parsley manages to find it in himself to forgive his dad for that pretty easily. He’s never been the most eloquent when it comes to emotional outbursts. Parsley manages to wriggle his arms free, and wraps them around his dad. The older man lets out a little sniffle in response, and then starts to run his hand down his son’s messy head of hair. It only catches a few times.

“You’re all I got, Parsley,” his dad mumbles through the thickness in his voice. “You’re all I got.”

Parsley lets himself cry just a little bit more, his chest finally starting to feel lighter than it has in years. The two of them exist like that for a while— clumsily hugging and crying and mumbling little fragments of things they’ve both been meaning to say. At some point they’ll have to break apart, and at some point the night will have to end. They’ll part ways with slightly stilted goodbyes, and very likely won’t speak of this night for at least a few months. But for now, they both let themselves have this moment. 

And it’s not much, but it’s enough.

[tintinwrites]

dreams and other things | Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales x Reader

A/N: This is inspired by an episode of King of the Hill, a show I did not even watch of my own volition yet vaguely enjoyed sometimes. No tags since the subject of this fic is quite touchy.

Rating: T

Warning: Trying for a baby and not being very successful with it. Discussions of possible infertility. Many sexual references. Naughty words. Depression. Arguing.

Word count: 1,907, apparently!!

Summary: Trying for a baby is taking longer than you thought it would, so Frankie tries to cheer you up.

GIF credit: ^ Please let me know if you don’t want me using your GIF!

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

When you and Frankie first talked about trying to have a baby, it was quite possibly the best thing ever.

Yes, your sex life was pretty damn healthy if both of you did say so yourselves, but the moment you were working towards something with no condoms, no birth control?

You barely kept your hands off each other, whether you were somewhere private or you needed to sneak off to somewhere that was only semi-private.

Frankie didn’t know shit about ovulation until you peed on those little sticks and told him that meant you were at your most fertile; which meant three days of as much sex as possible, which meant he now knew a lot about ovulation and considered it to be a pretty damn great invention.

The first month of trying resulted in an obscenely expensive pregnancy test blinking a timer at you before it said ‘not pregnant’.

You were obviously disappointed, but you kissed him on the cheek and told him that it was pretty rare for a couple to get pregnant so quickly and you would keep trying.

He didn’t mind that.

But then one month became three, and three became six, and six became eight.

If someone is wanting a baby, they can only deal with throwing so many ‘not pregnant’ or one-lined sticks into the trash before it starts to chip at something. Frankie would hear you sob in the bathroom when your period came and sit outside waiting until you were pulled together enough, but you would just start sobbing again in his arms anyway.

With how disappointed he was with each month that passed without you being pregnant, he could only imagine your disappointment.

Fuck, he’d watched you weep on the bathroom floor about what a failure you were, how you couldn’t bear him a child, how much you just wanted to see two stupid fucking lines, and he still wasn’t sure he understood the extent of your disappointment.

Those three days he’d loved were starting to become something he hated, sex now an effort you both made yourselves do three days a month when it used to be something you needed to be pulled apart from doing; would this time result in a baby? Was he shooting blanks? Was there something up with your uterus, or your ovaries, or something else?

All your worries made the two of you bicker, then cry, then apologize, over and over again, until you finally broke down and told him you just didn’t know what was wrong with you.

That, at this point, you knew each pregnancy test would say you weren’t pregnant and that you hated yourself so much you were taking it out on him.

He was pissed because this was supposed to be easy, damn it. Creating a family was something biological, something anyone should be able to do if they wanted to, and he couldn’t do that for you? He wanted to yell at whoever the fuck would listen each time you cried because something that should’ve been simple just wasn’t.

Any yelling he wanted to do was kept in for the most part, aside from one time when snippy bickering made him raise his voice with everything he was shoving down.

I don’t know how to fucking fix this, okay?!

The moment the words left his mouth, his face had softened and he moved to you immediately, dropping to his knees at the couch in front of you and rubbing his palms up and down your thighs.

I didn’t mean to yell, okay? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby.

Maybe he was apologizing for more than just yelling as he laid his head in your lap, letting a few silent tears fall with the way you were running your fingers through his hair, telling him that you were sorry too, that you never meant anything you said and you just wanted a damn baby.

You decided to ease off on trying since it was so stressful for you both, and Frankie watched your heart break.

He watched it break even more when, despite not really trying, you were weeping in the bathroom once again at the blood in your underwear telling you that you still weren’t pregnant.

He held you to his chest, and kissed your head, and whispered all the truths to you of how great you were, and he suggested you take the week off work to just take a little more stress off.

You spent each day laying on the couch with dried tear tracks on your face as you watched almost every sitcom that was streaming, but he didn’t care. He’d leave something for you for breakfast in the morning, call in for something to be delivered for lunch, then make you dinner when he was home.

Most nights, he’d bring you to bed and help you change into fresh clothes, smiling at you when you’d kiss him and say a little thank you.

And then you’d fall asleep and any smile he tried to keep on for you dropped.

You were so...sad. There was no other word for it. Empty, maybe. Longing for something that should’ve been yours.

Shit, maybe he wasn’t going to be the best dad in the world, but you needed to be a mother.

Wherever he would’ve failed, he knew that baby would be okay with you loving it, and nurturing it, and kissing it, and holding it close to you.

Seeing the way you yearned for a baby made him think of all the other things you’d talked about with him, all the little dreams and other things you hoped to do with him.

He thought maybe one of them would help, maybe he could find something to help fill that void even if it didn’t fit quite right.

Something that would occupy your heart until you were finally pregnant or you looked into adopting a kid.

He came home that Friday you’d taken off work with a box in his arms, setting it outside the door before he pushed it open and stepped inside. He took off his boots like always and walked over to the couch where you were watching an old show, bending down to kiss you gently.

“Can you close your eyes for me, baby?” He tugged on your bottom lip with his thumb as you gazed up at him.

“If I open them to find you naked, I’m not gonna find it very amusing.” The time off work brought back a bit of your humor, but you did close your eyes as you moved to sit up.

“Not doing that, but I really hope you like this.” He made sure your eyes were closed before he moved towards the still open door. “It’s, uh...it’s gonna be a little work, but I know we talked about doing this before.” He balanced the box in his arms carefully, kicking the door closed as he moved inside.

“I’m still convinced this is a sex thing.” You furrowed your brow, wringing your hands anxiously.

“It’s not a sex thing, hon.” He set the box at your feet and reached in to take out the furry, wriggling creature.

“It really sounds like it is.”

“Hold out your hands.”

You did with little hesitation because you trusted Frankie more than anyone, brow furrowing even more when something soft was placed into your hands.

“Open your eyes.”

You did, pausing when you looked down to find what looked to be a little mixed hound puppy staring up at you and wagging its tail, trying desperately to lick at any part of you it could.

The longer you stared at the puppy in silence, the more nervous Frankie became that this was a bad idea and that you were going to be offended by him trying to cheer you up with a dog.

Then you started sobbing, putting the puppy in your lap and reaching up to Frankie, who quickly moved to sit next to you.

He wasn’t sure if you were happy or not, but he wrapped his arms tight around you either way and let you cry against his neck.

“Is this good crying?” he asked tentatively, relaxing considerably when he felt you nod.

“Good, it’s good. Is it a boy or a girl?” For some reason, that question broke his heart a little, but he pulled away to watch the puppy paw at your shirt.

“A girl. Someone dumped her and her brothers and sisters at the shelter. But she’s ours now, if you want her.”

“Oh, baby. She’s so beautiful, Frankie.”

You held the puppy again and she wriggled around, teetering forward to lick at your chin which made you laugh loudly.

That was Frankie’s most favorite sound in the world and he’d been hearing it so infrequently that he was pretty sure he’d just fallen in love with you all over again.

He gently rubbed up and down your back, watching the puppy gnaw on your finger with those little sharp teeth. “You like her?”

“I love her. Thank you for...everything.” You kissed him gently, for loving you, for putting up with you, for wanting a baby with you, for doing his best to provide something else you dreamed of when your dream of a child wasn’t working out.

He pressed his head against yours and looked into your eyes in a tender moment that was quickly interrupted by the puppy leaping up and licking at you both. You both laughed and you set her down on the couch, letting her sniff around the new environment.

“You’ll need to pick out a name. Alright, alright, damn.” The puppy was trying to nose in behind him impatiently and he scooted forward a little, chuckling.

“Catfish,” you said so surely that Frankie looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re kidding me.”

“I want her to be named after her daddy.”

He shook his head, looking to his side to see that dopey little tan and black face staring up at him with her tail thumping on the couch cushion. “I guess there’s enough room for two Catfish around here, huh?”

She tilted her little head as he spoke, ears flopping around slightly, then dove right into his lap and started nipping at his hands.

You laughed, leaning over and nuzzling his shoulder. “We need to buy her some chew toys.”

“Uh, I did.”

“You sound guilty.”

“—I took off work early to grab her and we stopped by the pet store for food and shit, so I bought a few toys.”

“How many is a few toys?”

“Anything she wanted.”

“You softie.”

You watched him with adoration in your eyes as he playfully scolded the puppy for chewing on his jacket. “Put the puppy in the box.”

“Huh?”

“Put her in the box for a minute.”

Frankie looked confused until your hand slid between his legs, eyes widening when you squeezed him lightly. “Alright, baby girl, you hold tight and play with the ball I put in your box, okay?”

It was a month and a half later as Frankie stared at eight lines, two on each of the four pregnancy tests you’d taken, as well as the three digital screens that said ‘pregnant’ on the other ones, that you kissed Catfish’s head again and again and told her it was thanks to her that she was going to be a big sister.

[cavalierious-whim]

Love, Misunderstood (FE3H)

Sylvix | Modern AU | Fake Dating | Teen So, here’s the thing: Felix doesn’t date anyone that isn’t his sabre.

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A/N: I wrote this for the Sylvix Server's Secret Santa Event last year. Read here on AO3 for better quality! And follow me on Twitter here! @Satodee1 on Twitter drew an AMAZING fanart for this fic as well! I cannot believe I've been blessed so. Please take a look here and give them a follow!

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Let go the fear of falling in love.

#

So, here’s the thing: Felix doesn’t date anyone that isn’t his sabre.

One, there isn’t time. By day he’s almost a professional athlete with dozens of fencing titles to his name, and by night he’s a business student double majoring in Marketing and Finance. His days are full of workouts and conditioning, a carefully maintained diet, and when the sport isn’t on his mind, his academics are.

Two, there’s no interest. None. Whatsoever. Felix has never once looked at another person and thought, Yes, I would like that one.

Which brings him to his current problem: there’s an annoyance in his face that some might think is pretty if they liked overly bleached hair and heavily lacquered nails. Gum pops in her mouth. She twirls a long tendril of hair around a finger like the love interest from a nineties sitcom.

Felix doesn’t just hate; he loathes and despises. Less so the girl and more so at being perceived as a romantic option. He feels as though he does a pretty good job selling the fact that he’s entirely off of the market, even going as far as snarling at hopefuls. Apparently, some people are just infuriatingly stubborn.

Or maybe just oblivious. Felix is starting to lean towards the latter, watching carefully as the girl stares back at him, dreamily.

“So, like,” she says, punctuating the words with a giggle, “I’m a big fan. Of you and you know, your fencing.”

Felix is a hundred percent sure that she has no idea what she’s talking about. What he says instead is, “I’m studying.” Neat and simple, and not even mean. Hopefully enough to fend her off. He’s almost proud of himself.

She blinks at him like she’s trying and failing to process what he’s just said. “So, that bout last weekend,” says the girl, relentless in her pursuit. “You really honed in the touches, winning before the time limit.”

This surprises him; maybe his earlier assessment is incorrect and she’s honestly a fencing fan. Felix meets her gaze and she stares back, smacking her gum, hair still wrapped around her finger, and eyes glinting.

Right, no, she’d just done her research.

“Thank you,” says Felix because he’s not entirely an asshole. “But as I said, I’m studying, so if you would--”

“It was truly riveting,” continues the girl, clasping her hands before her. “Your form is just exquisite.” She says the word like he’s a prized pig.

Felix is losing his patience, his fingers tightening around his pencil and squeezing tighter and tighter. It might snap under his grip. It’s happened before.

“Look,” says Felix, his tone hardening just a modicum, “I appreciate--”

“So, how about grabbing a bite to eat together?” asks the girl, batting her eyes at him in an exaggerated flourish.

Felix opens his mouth to say something rather nasty, but he’s interrupted by someone dropping into the chair next to him. “Darling.” An arm finds its way slung around his shoulder and Felix goes rigid. “I’m sorry that I’m late; got stuck in traffic. You know what rush hour is like.”

It takes everything for Felix to not grab the man’s arm and break his wrist.

Before he can do so though, the man looks to the girl and says, “A bite to eat? All of us? Group dates are always fun.”

The girl, to her credit, looks about as flabbergasted as Felix feels. “Um--”

“Unless you meant alone with my boyfriend?”

Felix immediately starts, turning to look at him incredulously. “Boyfriend--”

“My mistake,” the girl apologizes immediately. “I didn’t, um, realize that you… Anyway, thank you for the chat!” And with a wave, the bleached-blonde bimbo takes her leave.

Felix whirls onto the man next to him, immediately shrugging out of his grasp. “What do you think you’re doing?”

The man is lightly tanned, cheeks dusted with a spattering of warm freckles. His hair is auburn and unruly, curling wildly around his forehead and ears. His smile is crooked, a dimple forming at the left corner of his mouth. Handsome, if Felix likes people. He doesn’t, he reminds himself.

“Saving you,” the man says. “Really, she just wouldn’t let you go. It’s astonishing really, I could feel the leave me the fuck alone vibes radiating off of you from across the shop.”

Felix blinks at that. “I didn’t need help.”

“I think that you did.”

“I didn’t,” repeats Felix, unable to let go of his stubborn need to get the last word in. Glenn used to say that it was the best and worst part of him.

“You could have just told her no.” The man pauses, thumbing at his chin as though he’s amused. “You don’t seem the type to be nice and gently let someone down.”

Felix isn’t; he’s the type to throw books at people instead, and be brutally blunt about what he does and doesn’t want. “I was distracted,” he finally says, “I’m studying for an exam and she just caught me off guard. I promise you, had I been on my game I would have done far worse.”

The other man cocks his head to the side, watching him, and Felix already hates the calculating gaze. “You really go all in, don’t you?” he asks. “Just no fucks given as to what people think about you?”

“I’m not here to date, I’m here to go to school.”

“How boring,” says the man.

“I like boring,” says Felix.

There’s a beat and then, “I’m Sylvain.” Sylvain holds his hand out for a shake. Felix stares at it as though it might bite him, but Sylvain waits patiently. “You owe me at least yours.”

There isn’t a chance in hell that this man doesn’t know who Felix is; his face is plastered across every Garreg Mach University billboard this side of Fodlan. Still, Felix has been raised with manners and he can hear Glenn rolling over in his grave.

Felix hates manners but sucks it up.

“Felix,” he says finally, still ignoring Sylvain’s hand. “Thank you for the help, but I don’t need it. Now leave me alone. I don’t have time to entertain jockstraps like yourself.”

Sylvain eventually puts his hand down and watches Felix for a long moment. Felix doesn’t like the slightly amused grin that seems permanently attached to his face. “Got it,” says Sylvain eventually. He stands and throws his bag back over his shoulder. “Then this jockstrap will take his leave.”

Felix almost feels bad, prompting him to say, “My appreciation is honest. If you hadn’t stepped in I might’ve snapped the girl’s neck instead.” He expects him to run off at such vivid imagery, like so many do.

But instead, Sylvain just throws his head back and laughs, before leaving him be.

#

“Do you like Adrestian Barbecue?”

This one cuter than the last, pert little nose and wavy locks of brown framing her face nicely. Felix still isn’t remotely interested. “I’m studying,” he says, trying his best to sound at least polite. He’s not very good at it, but the woman pays it no mind.

“This’ll only take a moment,” she says. “I’m wondering if you’d like to go get lunch or something? There’s a great new place that’s just opened up off of Twenty-Fourth Street, and--”

“Babe,” someone cuts in, leaning over Felix’s shoulder, their cheeks barely inches from each other. Sylvain, Felix’s mind supplies before being annoyed that he’d remembered. Felix hadn’t seen him in the shop for a few weeks. Sylvain to his credit doesn’t sling his arm around and immediately drop into the chair without permission, he just hovers next to him. Waiting.

A slight improvement.

“Sylvain,” says Felix. Then pauses, unsure how to continue. He swallows and then, “You’re late.”

Sylvain chuckles. “Traffic.”

Felix huffs, a little emboldened. “That’s the excuse you used last time.”

“And it’s still true,” says Sylvain.

“Um,” says the woman who’s been interrupted. “I was trying to ask--”

“My boyfriend to lunch,” cuts in Sylvain. “Yes, I saw that. I can barely get him to go out with me, what makes you think that he’d have a go with you?”

Felix’s eyes nearly bulge at the aggressive raking. Sylvain seemed like a nice man the last they met, but perhaps Felix has underestimated him. It sounds like a jab straight from Felix’s book.

The woman’s mouth falls open and she gawks but quickly recovers. “Right,” she says. “My apologies, I’d thought-- Never mind that. Have a wonderful day Mr. Fraldarius.”

Felix cringes as she turns and walks away.

“Mr. Fraldarius,” drawls Sylvain, falling into the chair next to him. “I really do have a habit of coming to rescue you.”

“I didn’t need to be rescued,” says Felix, acerbically. “It isn’t my fault that you insist on butting in where you aren’t wanted.”

“So, you wanted to go grab lunch with her?”

Felix closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose, and lets out a frustrated grunt. “Absolutely not.” Sylvain doesn’t say anything, just watches him with unwavering patience. Eventually, Felix says, “Look, I appreciate your willingness to help, but--”

“You know, I could just pretend to be your boyfriend and they’d leave you alone for good.”

Felix blinks and then he scowls. “What?”

Sylvain shrugs, noncommittal. “You study here nearly every day. I study here too. I finally stepped in because you seem to get attention all of the time and it does nothing but annoy you. Seriously, people have no boundaries.”

Felix wants to tell Sylvain that he has no boundaries either, but decides not to fuel the fire. Instead, he says, “There’s no reason for you to help me, you would gain nothing from it.”

“Some peace and quiet. Do you know how hard it is to focus on schoolwork here when women and men are trying to approach you? I come here for the quiet, not to watch the latest episode of Blind Date.”

Sylvain has a point; the people who approach him tend to be rather loud about it. Felix thinks about the proposition for a moment. “No,” he finally says. “You don’t have to study here. Go elsewhere.”

“It’s preferable to my dorm,” says Sylvain, not bothering to elaborate. “And, I think that’s why you study here as well. You hate people and would do anything to avoid them entirely. Even if it means studying in public.”

Felix cringes because Sylvain’s nailed it on the head; the general public is less invasive than Ashe is. His roommate is nice but needlessly curious. “I don’t need your help.”

Sylvain opens his mouth to answer but stops when the barista comes by their table. “Felix,” he says, smiling kindly. “I’ve brought you a refill, yeah?” He drops a take-out cup to the table. “Just let me know if you want more.”

Felix nods, his lips quirking the slightest bit. The boy has always been nice to him and unfussy. “Thank you,” says Felix, genuinely.

The barista leaves and as Felix reaches for the cup, Sylvain raises his eyebrows. Felix’s mood immediately sours. “What?” snaps Felix acerbically.

Sylvain points to the cardboard sleeve around the cup. Felix turns it around to find the barista’s name and number written in curling script. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” says Felix. But, at least the barista has the decency not to accost him publicly. Felix rubs at his forehead.

“Say that I take you up on your offer,” starts Felix, already wanting to pull them back, “what are you expecting in return?”

“Nothing,” says Sylvain. Felix meets his eyes, narrowing his gaze as he watches him carefully. “Honestly,” continues Sylvain under the scrutiny. “I also like to study in peace, but I don’t like to sit at tables alone. I work better when there’s someone else there, even if it’s not to talk.”

“That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard,” says Felix.

“So is every person on this campus thirsting after your mangy ass. It’s a mystery to me.” Sylvain bites back just as hard as Felix, it seems. Felix respects that, if only slightly.

“Fine,” says Felix. “But only because I’ve got tests coming up and I’m tired of being bothered.”

“It’s a deal then,” says Sylvain. “We study and pretend to be dating, reaping the benefits of a quiet and quaint coffee shop.”

“You’ll have to be convincing,” says Felix.

“So far, it’s worked.”

Sylvain holds his hand out to shake on the deal and Felix looks at it warily. Then, with a resigned sigh, he takes it. Sylvain’s hand is wide and warm, and it makes Felix want to pull away. He hates closeness and doesn’t do well with physical contact. When they part, Sylvain smiles and then finally drops his book bag from his shoulders, settling in.

Felix hopes to the Goddess above that he’s not making a mistake.

#

Felix wants to hate Sylvain on mere principle, but they fall into an easy companionship. Felix hates it, hates that he doesn’t dislike Sylvain. But, Felix doesn’t quite like him either, and it’s the last thread of hope that he hangs on to.

A week into the charade, Felix is still stunned by the fact that Sylvain actually studies. He expects Sylvain to joke or flirt incessantly. He hasn’t; Sylvain’s quiet when they sit at their table in the corner of the coffee shop, nose-deep in a math text.

Felix’s gaze narrows slightly when he reads the title. “You’re taking Calculus III?”

“No,” says Sylvain, eyes not leaving his book. He flips a page, looking bored. “It’s a prerequisite, so I’ve already taken it, but sometimes I have to revisit.”

“Already taken it?” Sylvain taps another textbook to the side and Felix’s eyes widened. “Ordinary and Partial Differential Mathematics?” Felix can not for the life of him, think of a degree that would require a course like this.

Sylvain hums. “Yeah, it’s my required math for this semester.”

“For a jockstrap like yourself?” The nickname has stuck and so far, Sylvain hasn’t stopped Felix from using it.

Finally, Sylvain looks up, eyes crinkling in amusement. “I like math,” he says simply, “and I’m good at it. It’s an easy course for me.”

Felix isn’t sure what’s easy about math that he doesn’t even grasp the purpose of, but Sylvain’s only proven himself to be a weird man at his core. Sylvain looks at Felix’s book in return.

“Statistics,” says Sylvain. Felix has a distinct impression that he’s not remotely impressed.

“A requirement,” says Felix. “If I had a choice, I wouldn’t take math at all. But it’s part of a Business degree.”

“Business.” Sylvain snorts. “What a boring degree. Aren’t you here for fencing?”

“On a fencing scholarship, yes. There’s no future in a sport, though.” Felix narrows his eyes at him. “Something that you should probably learn.”

Sylvain’s got the build of a footballer, though, so Felix knows that he’s likely on that track. But, Sylvain doesn’t really talk about himself much, let alone his schooling. He has a tendency to watch people carefully with a gaze that’s far too knowing.

Felix never likes that look, like Sylvain’s mind is far away and thinking. A thinking Sylvain is likely a dangerous Sylvain. It’s always the ones you least suspect. Glenn would have been best friends with this dolt.

“What?” says Felix, annoyed.

“Nothing,” says Sylvain, turning back to his textbook.

Felix frowns but doesn’t push to ask more.

As the weeks pass, things shift from a tentative, peaceful study, into an actual friendship. Felix wants to hate it; a large part of him wants to loathe it because he doesn’t like people, nor does he like it when people admire him in return.

But, Felix has learned in their brief time together that it’s not all bad. Not every person who is friendly with you wants something in return. Being a Fraldarius has severely skewed the way that he views the general public, but Sylvain seems to have no idea what his roots are, thank the Goddess.

It’s led to a low-key relationship, full of quiet jokes and genuine care. Felix grudgingly accepts it.

Like always, Felix finds Sylvain holding their table in the corner, a cup of coffee already ordered and waiting for him. Bernadetta’s handmade mugs might be odd and a little bizarre, but they serve drinks all the same, even if it loses its heat more quickly.

Sylvain once berated him for his wasteful use of to-go cups and Felix relented without much of a fight. Much to his irritation.

“One large red-eye, black as your soul,” says Sylvain, pushing the cup towards Felix. “I think he threw in an extra shot this time.”

Felix grunts, noncommittally, drops his bag to the ground and slumps into his chair. The mug is hot to the touch, so it must be fresh, and Felix leans over to inhale deeply. Sylvain makes a gagging sound which causes Felix to glare at him.

“No judgment,” says Sylvain. Then he pauses. “Actually, a lot of judgment because only stone-cold dicks can drink that dredge--”

“Go back to the field,” snaps Felix, before taking a sip. It’s dark and bitter as it burns through his veins. Perfection, really. Sylvain just has bad taste.

“Always with the jock references,” says Sylvain. “At least you haven’t called me jockstrap yet.”

“Apt name for someone like yourself.”

Sylvian blinks. “What does that even mean?”

Felix huffs. “An athlete, you dolt.” He takes another sip. “You make fun of my sport enough that it's only appropriate that I do the same.”

Sylvain is quiet for a long moment and then he bursts out laughing. “Wait, wait,” he starts. “You think I’m an athlete? Why?”

“You're built like a footballer,” says Felix. “Infuriatingly tall and broad.”

“Not to say that jocks are dumb, or anything, but with my courseload what makes you think that I even have time to think about playing a sport?”

Felix thinks for a long moment, coming to realize that even with their burgeoning friendship, he knows next to nothing about Sylvain. He’s easy to get along with, they’ve fallen into an easy routine and Felix even finds that studying flies by with little to no thought by his side. Something about Sylvain’s quiet presence in the coffee shop makes it easier to focus.

Still.

“Wait, you don’t?” asks Felix. “Why didn’t you ever say--”

“I thought that you were just insulting me, I didn’t think that you actually thought that I--” Sylvain stops, laughing again. “I’m sorry, this is hilarious. It shows just how bad you are with people. Pure comedic gold.”

“You said you were on scholarship!”

At that, Sylvain raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, an academic one. Astronomy and Astrophysics.”

“Astrophysics?” blurts Felix incredulously.

In retrospect, it’s painfully obvious, he thinks. Suddenly, the textbooks of differential calculus and other various maths and sciences he can’t pronounce make a hell of a lot more sense. He reaches out, lifting the book that Sylvain’s currently working from, eyeballing the title.

“Steller, Galactic and Extragalactic Astronomy,” Felix reads. Then he moves to the next. “Statistical Quantum Mechanics.” Felix meets Sylvain’s sheepish gaze. “You aren’t joking, are you?”

“I’ve wanted to understand the planets ever since I saw Star Trek as a kid--”

“Are you really basing your degree on a television show that you watched growing up? One that isn’t even that good?”

Sylvain’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, you did not just disrespect the best television show to ever have been created.”

“I’m not having this conversation,” says Felix. “I have an essay for Business Statistics, and it’s going to be hard enough to focus knowing that you’re doing experimental math over there.”

“Theoretical math,” says Sylvain, coyly correcting him.

“Whatever,” hisses Felix. “Honestly, being a footballer would be less annoying.”

Sylvain frowns slightly. “Than being smart?”

“What?” Felix scowls. “No, that isn’t what I meant. I don’t give a rat’s ass how smart you are, but really, Sylvain-- Star Trek?”

Sylvain lets out a long breath and Felix realizes that he must be used to being judged. Sylvain doesn’t have the typical look of a scientist when you think about it. He’s handsome and well built, looking like he spends more time on a beach than a mechanics lab.

Felix has the decency to be at least a little bit embarrassed for assuming, not that he’d publicly admit to it.

“Look, just go back to your book,” says Felix. “I’ll go back to mine. And if I have any math questions, I’m going to expect your help.”

At that, Sylvain lets out a little chuckle, different from his usual boisterous laugh. It takes Felix a moment to realize that it’s a genuine moment from Sylvain, one where he’s let down all those walls he’s carefully put up.

It seems that he’s even more guarded than Felix is, something of mild interest. If Felix took an interest in things. He doesn’t, he thinks, but it’s more like he’s trying to convince himself.

“Alright,” says Sylvain. “But I don’t know how much help I’ll be. Simple math confuses me more than this does.”

What a ridiculous thing to say, but it’s not as annoying as the way that Felix’s mouth twitches into a near smile.

#

In the aftermath of Felix’s assumed snafu, Sylvain makes irritating strides to get to know Felix better. Irritating, because Felix has come to learn that he likes spending time with the genius of a chump, be it lunches between classes, or dinner after their study session. A variety of low-commitment activities that are usually full of small talk that Felix is angered he doesn’t hate.

“Just to be more convincing,” said Sylvain, doing most of the talking like always. Felix was inclined to agree, considering that Annette told him that Sylvain wasn’t his type and the idea of the two of them together seemed frankly, odd.

“I don’t get what the issue is,” says Annette, one day that seems like eons after Felix struck his deal with Sylvain. It’s past winter holiday and creeping into the spring, warm enough to catch a snack at the crepe stand after Annette’s yoga class. “Are you bothered that you like to spend time with him?”

“No, that’s not--” Felix pauses. “I’m not good at making friends.”

“We’re friends,” says Annette, shoving a mouthful of crepe into her mouth.

Felix wants to remind her that they met after she asked him to dinner, and it was the one time he’d said yes. It lasted about thirty minutes before they both decided dinner was a bust and went bowling instead. Annette kicked his ass, looked pretty while doing it and he’d felt nothing in return.

Instead, he says, “You're persistent.” It’s half-hearted and he doesn’t really mean it, but Annette’s cheeks puff up anyway.

“Oh, Felix! You’re evil,” huffs Annette, but she never stays mad at him for long, turning her attention back to her food.

“Sylvain is… different,” says Felix, as they sit down on a bench.

Annette nods sagely. “I mean, yeah, isn’t that why you like him?”

“He’s sufferable.”

“I mean, I’ll admit, he’s an odd choice and definitely not your type but--”

“Wait, Annette,” says Felix. “Do you think that I actually like him? As in romantically?”

She blinks at him, confused. “I mean, don’t you?” asks Annette around a mouthful of food. She’s never been very ladylike, but it’s a breath of fresh air at the end of all things. Normally it would endear Felix. But.

“ What?” snaps Felix, eyes immediately narrowing. “Of course I don’t, this entire thing has been a ruse to get people to leave me alone.”

Annette chews at her food thoughtfully for a second and then says, “But you enjoy spending time with him.”

“I’ve made that apparent,” says Felix. “It vexes me.”

“You’ve admired how smart he is.”

“Infuriatingly so, but it’s useful when we study.” Felix pauses. “Don’t tell him that I said that.”

“You spend your free time with him,” says Annette, gesturing at Felix with her crepe. “This is the first time I’ve seen you face-to-face in like a month, but you go out of your way to see him every day.”

At that, Felix starts, mouth snapping shut as he thinks. Annette’s right, he does go out of his way to spend time with Sylvain. And if they can’t meet properly, it’s texting. Sylvain’s usually the one to greet him in the morning with a corny horoscope that neither of them believes, but still laugh about. And Felix is usually the one to say goodnight, even if it isn’t warranted.

It feels wrong if they don’t share words at least once a day.

“Annette,” says Felix.

“Hm?” hums Annette, cheeks bulging around the last bite of her crepe.

“Am I in love with him?” It’s rhetorical, of course, and dreadful in tone, but Annette answers anyway.

“Would that be a bad thing?”

“No,” says Felix, mouth parted in awe as though the heavens had just been explained to him. Or, Sylvain explained theoretical warp theory and Felix finally understood it. That’ll never happen, but--

“I love him.” The words come easier than he expects and they fill him with unexpected warmth. He wants more of it. He’s also afraid of it, but if there’s anything that Felix is good at, it’s striking something head-on with force.

He hasn’t lost a fencing match in nearly three years.

Annette, blessedly, is quiet for once, just watching him process his feelings. And when he’s done, when Felix comes to his conclusion, she asks, “Do you feel better?”

“Yes,” says Felix, and it’s honest and true, and strangely welcome. He hasn’t felt this good in years. Certainly not since Glenn passed.

“Good,” says Annette, “Now go kiss him.”

Felix’s answer is dumping the rest of his crepe directly into her lap, the loss of his snack well justified.

#

Because Felix’s life is apparently a romantic comedy, he expects things between him and Sylvain to become awkward.

It doesn't. In fact, everything is disgustingly normal. They keep their study dates, emphasis on the study part. Sylvain still greets him with his coffee order, and on the few occasions that Felix beats him to the shop, he greets Sylvain with his ridiculous white mocha, extra whip.

There are a few differences, Felix supposes.

When Sylvain leans over to help with a math problem, Felix turns to him. They meet eyes more often than not. Felix willingly covers Sylvain’s dinner, which raises an eyebrow because he’s notoriously stingy.

But, if Felix seems off, Sylvain never mentions it or broaches the topic. It’s aggravating, how easy it is to just keep to the routine. And it’s not that Felix doesn’t want more; ever since his talk with Annette, he finds himself entertaining the idea further.

He’s done a lot of thinking. Sylvain’s handsome, there isn’t a doubt about it, but that’s not what pulls Felix to him. Sylvain’s smart as a whip and doesn’t mince his words. And yes, he puts walls up and dances about things personal, but Felix does the same.

And lately, Sylvain’s started to pull those walls down, comfortable in Felix’s presence.

No one’s ever comfortable around him and Felix is struck by how much it means. Feelings are hard and love is even worse. Felix isn’t quite sure that it’s worth it.

But, he hasn’t written the idea entirely off.

“Felix?”

Felix blinks. “I, er--”

Sylvain’s mouth tugs slightly downward at one side. Concerned. “Are you okay? You seem distracted.”

“Fencing,” blurts Felix. “The big tourney coming up.”

“You mean the one two weeks ago?”

Okay, so, Felix has been more distracted than he cares to admit. It’s all Sylvain’s fault. “Sylvain, it’s nothing. I’m just tired. School is draining. The usual.”

“Tired,” says Sylvain, unconvinced. He leans back in his chair, arms crossed and watching Felix carefully. Curse Sylvain’s perceptiveness and his ability to look right through people.

“Look, Sylvain--”

“Felix Fraldarius,” drawls another voice. They both turn to find a familiar face framed by bleach blonde hair and twirling a lock around her fingers. There’s the snap of gum in her mouth as she chews open-mouthed and unflattering.

Immediately, Sylvain is on the defensive. “Hey--”

“Hold it, golden boy,” says the girl, “I know you aren’t really dating. Heard it one day after you grabbed a bite to eat.”

Sylvain’s face darkens. “Have you been following us?”

The girl makes a face at the accusation. “Ugh, as if. It was a coincidence, I swear, but what a wonderful one. Means that I’ve got a chance.”

Felix immediately bites back, hackles raised. “I already had little interest, but as of right now, there’s not even a remote possibility of you having a chance.”

“Is it really so hard to just give it a go? You might even like me.” She bats her eyes in a pathetic attempt to appeal to him, but all Felix can think of his tanned skin dotted with freckles and sun-kissed auburn hair.

“Doubtful,” says Felix, dryly.

It takes only a second for her features to change dramatically, from coy and shy to contemptuous and sneering. “I wonder why I even bothered,” says the girl, before nodding to Sylvain. “Clearly your taste isn’t as good as I would have thought. Haven’t you heard the rumors about him?”

Yes, ad nauseum. From friends, the general public, even Sylvain himself. His problems with women and dating, and commitment issues. His brother and father, and the pressure of family legacy. At first, from those around them who’d heard of their dating, who’d seen them hanging out. People who felt it their duty to warn Felix.

And eventually, Sylvain himself who’s recently opened up about the heavy baggage that he carries around, shouldering it without much of a complaint. If anything, Sylvain’s the one looking out for others.

So yes, Sylvain doesn’t have a stellar reputation, but there’s a lot more to a person than what’s seen on the surface. A lesson that Felix has spent the last half-year learning quite unwillingly.

“Do you think yourself superior?” asks Felix, eyes narrowing at her. “You have no concept of personal space, nor do you seem to comprehend the words ‘no’ and ‘not interested’. Sylvain could murder someone in cold blood and still have twice the worth that you hold.”

“It’s a wonder, why you would even consider him,” scoffs the girl.

“Obviously it’s because I love him and despite the terrible things the lot of you gossip about, he makes me perfectly happy.”

The table goes quiet, both the girl and Sylvain staring at him. Likely, for different reasons. Felix didn’t mean to say it so plainly, but he’s never been good at pulling his punches, even when it comes to verbal lashings.

Besides, she brought it upon herself.

And against all odds, Felix feels wholly and utterly satisfied, not a moment of regret at his confession. He takes a sip of his coffee, fingers curled around his mug tenderly, meeting her gaze head-on.

“You should leave,” says Sylvain, before the girl can even respond. She opens her mouth to retort, but stops when Sylvain smiles at her. Only it isn’t a smile, it’s a nasty-looking smirk, more like a wolf that’s about to pounce its prey.

Wisely, she backs off, huffing in annoyance as she turns and leaves.

And then there are two, sitting at a table in silence. Felix is oddly comfortable, sipping at his drink while Sylvain’s mouth opens and closes. Thinking about what he’s going to say. Felix supposes that he’s opened the inevitable can of worms.

“So,” starts Sylvain, “correct me if I’m wrong, but when you said that you love me, it sounded pretty genuine.”

Felix scoffs, he can’t help it. “I always mean the things that I say.”

He expects Sylvain to bolt, to run away, to want nothing to do with this. Instead, Sylvain smiles, small and real, regarding Felix with a kind of warmth that immediately sets him on high alert.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” asks Felix, testily. But Sylvain only chuckles, soft at first and then louder. “Really Sylvain? You’re laughing? Right now?”

“Sorry,” says Sylvain, “It’s not actually funny-- okay, that’s a lie, it’s hilarious.”

Felix frowns, sneering defensively. “Is the idea of me loving someone, least of all you, so entertaining?”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Then what is it?” demands Felix, exasperated. Sylvain’s not one to beat around the bush, but he can’t seem to find his words, too busy being amused by Felix’s feelings, to his utter embarrassment.

“It’s because I love you too.”

Felix’s mouth falls open because that’s the last thing he expects Sylvain to say. He doesn’t answer, gaping openly at Sylvain, floundering for an explanation. Eventually, Sylvain finds himself, clearing his throat slightly.

Sylvain looks to Felix’s face and then his gaze drops to where his hand rests on the table. Considering. Felix really hopes that he’s not planning on taking it, but Sylvain does, fingers tugging at his palm gently.

Felix lets it happen, settling on the explanation that he’s just not like himself at the moment.

“Felix,” says Sylvain, this time quieter and more serious. He thumbs at Felix’s knuckles, the touch soft and hesitant. “I’ll admit, I’m a little bit relieved.”

“I’m annoyed,” says Felix. “I’ve been annoyed since the moment I realized it because all I’ve been able to do is think of you. It’s infuriating in the worst of ways.”

There’s a moment that passes as they watch each other, Sylvain’s hand practically burning around Felix’s. And then, Sylvain says, “Felix, can I kiss you?”

Yes, Felix thinks. It’s such a foreign feeling that he nearly pulls away but he doesn’t. He’s determined to indulge. It’s about time he’s enjoyed something in his life.

So, what he says instead is, “If you must,” the words clipped but his usual crustiness softer than normal. It makes Sylvain smile at him again, looking at Felix like he can see right through him.

Sylvain leans forward smoothly, cupping Felix’s jaw in his other hand. He’s still looking at him, like he’s some sort of treasure, paused right before Felix’s mouth. And that makes Felix impatient.

Felix is the one to close the distance, sealing their lips together like a promise. Sylvain’s mouth is soft under his, but he responds eagerly, his han moving to the back of his neck. Felix has never really put stock into the whole sparks flew and things were felt nonsense. Turns out that he’d been wrong and that kissing is kind of everything. All he can think of is Sylvain’s presence and the solid weight of him as he leans in.

Sylvain licks into the kiss, but only just barely, coaxing a tad more than just a mild response from Felix. And Felix can feel his skin burning bright red with strain, or embarrassment, or maybe just the idea that they’re doing this in public.

He doesn’t care, Felix wants more, fingers curling into Sylvain’s shirt and tugging slightly.

Eventually, they part because breathing is necessary and even Felix requires air. Regrettably. He wants to go back in, to kiss Sylvain again, just one more time before he gains his senses back and thinks better of it.

But first.

“You know, I’ll kill you if you hurt me,” says Felix, fingers tightening their grip around  Sylvain’s shirt.

Sylvain laughs, leaning close to Felix's ear and pressing a soft kiss there. “I know. But that’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

[ithoughtthiswastwitterbutfr]

WandaVision Episode 8 spoilers

Ok I heard this episode is sad so I’m prepared to cry and ruin my eyeliner.

I’m just emotionally preparing myself rq before I start I’m assuming a lots gonna go down cause the second episode is the finale.

I’m still not ready 2 minutes later lmao wait.

Okay hmm the title is called Previously On so we’re going back in time to her childhood based on the summary.

I think we’re gonna get more insight on her and Visions relationship and how it formed and hopefully get to see her relationship with her brother I’m starting now.

Ugh my TV is glitching

Okay we’re starting out in witch trials so it’s Agathas backstory the lady staring at her looks familiar. Oh it’s her mom

Her powers are blue here she’s into dark magic and the book in her basement is the stolen book from Doctor Strange im assuming she began learning dark magic from it l.

As they started to drain her. Her powers became blue and she starting to drain them back. I’m assuming the witches shared power and it was blue and now that it’s dark magic it’s purple.

Wow she killed her whole coven my draining them of their life and magic. Then she took her mother’s amulet so that’s the amulet she’s always wearing from the comics is. 

She admitted her thoughts weren’t available and she was never under control.

Her accent is back because she’s angry because of her children being missing.

She possessed the fake Pietro from another universe she didn’t say he was from another universe she just said she couldn’t get to his body so she had to do possession instead of necromancy.

She picked up the fly now she’s chanting in Latin

She’s mind controlling and talking about how thousands of people can be under your control and all interact with each other with complex storylines which makes me think she wants Wanda power because she’s jealous she can do everything like transformation and mind control without having to study all the spells

“Magic on autopilot,” Dhe wants to know how she did this and she wouldn’t tell her and now she’s manipulating her with her own loneliness. She took a piece of her hair so now she has her DNA 

Real reruns aka memories so she can look into them to see how she did it.

Her kids are crying out for in the basement so she’s gonna go with Agatha to save them I honestly don’t think the cries were her own.

OHHH MY GOD

All the movies her parents were going to sell were the decades and movies she did projected.

When Wanda walked into the memory she turned into her younger self,

The Dick Van Dick show is in the TV shape of the one Darcy used on the first episode so we know where she got her inspo for that one.

Everything outside makes me think this is the scene where her parents die.

The Stark bomb just hit and she’s looking around and can’t find her family yeah the Stark industry label is in front of her and she’s reverted back to Sokovian because she’s young and not the best at English yet I’m assuming.

The TV I’d still on and playing the show “At the end of the episode you realize it was all a bad dream,” I’m not sure why she said that part in English maybe because she’s referring to the show and movie nights are for English? 

Agatha is asking if she used a probability hex to stop the bomb because Wanda reached her hand out towards it and that’s how she uses her powers.

Maybe Agatha is hinting towards Wanda being a natural born witch?

“So what I see here a baby witch obsessed with sitcoms and years of therapy ahead of her. Doesn’t explain your recent hijinks,”

Wanda used her powers subconsciously there and she’s probably using her powers subconsciously to keep Westview running and she used them subconsciously to get it started. 

“The only way forward is back,”

She’s referring to Wanda not wanting to go back to Hydra I haven’t seen the scene yet but I’m assuming it’s because the testing was painful and because she now knows who hydra is and what it stands for.

“Don’t be scared you already lived it once,”

They have Loki’s sceptor of course im assuming they got it from SHIELD since they are SHIELD.

She didn’t have to touch the sample it just came to her on its own further proving she’s a witch but I don’t think she knows she moved it,

She touched the tesseract making the mine stone she then absorbed all its energy and passed out.

In isolation she’s watching another sitcom I just can’t figure out which it is.

I’m sure the episode on the TV is important “she hasn’t got any feeling,” maybe it’s about the Westview citizens or maybe it’s about vision being a doll or like a puppet and the brother is like “she hasn’t got any feelings” just like when Pietro or Fietro called Vision a popsicle an inanimate object 

“So little orphan Wanda got up close and personal with an infinity stone that amplified what otherwise would’ve died on the vine. The broken pieces of you are adding up buttercup I have a theory but I need more,” This is probably talking about how if you don’t use your powers or learn to control them you stop having them but the infinity stone just made the powers she already had stronger. The name Scarlett Witch is starting to make sense now. 

Another door another memory that I’d her watching Malcom in the middle.

She said the Avengers compound was the first home she had ever shared with Vision and with her family and country gone she felt alone so I’m assuming she’s with Vision cause he cured her loneliness.

Vision walking through the walls again she asking him to watch the sitcom with her. The sitcoms are important to her and she’s sharing them with him.

“So it is funny because of the grievous injury that man just suffered?” Vision

“No he’s not really injured,” Wanda

“How Can you be sure?”

“It’s not that kind of show,”

I think this is sort of related to the fact that nothing bad ever happens in Westview permanently like in Malcolm in the middle where the roof structure fell on the dad sure he got hurt but it wasn’t a detrimental injury.

He wants to comfort to her “The only thing that would bring me comfort is seeing him again,” Wanda about Pietro she felt the same with Vision hence why Westview is happening and why he’s back.

“I’m so tired, It’s just like this wave washing over me again and again it knocks me down and when I try stand up it just comes for me again and I can’t- it’s just gonna drown me,” How she explains her grief and depression we’re getting a glismpe of how she copes with death in her actual reality.

Vision says he’s always been alone he never experienced loss because he never had a loved one to lose.

“What is grief if not love preserving,” Okay damn Vision getting all deep.

Aww they just had a moment and now he’s laughing over the show how sweet. The awkward smile they did at eachother. How cute

Vision was dead and she wanted him back now we get to see how she stole Visions body back from her perspective.

All the news on the TV playing might not be revelant but it’s related to tamiles being reunited after the blip. So this is very shortly after the blip and some people might be right thinking it was almost directly after Tony’s funeral.

“He deserves a funeral at least I deserve it,”

They’re letting her take him probably to be able to paint her as a villain which is why Hayward cut out the first part of the footage.

She’s being shown him take apart and sawed she’s in pain seeing him practically dying again. Hayward called vision a weapon and Wanda is saying he’s not a weapon because he wasn’t and he didn’t want to be a weapon Hayward is hiding his true intentions of bringing him back to be his own weapon

“I just want to bury him. That’s all I want,”

She said she can’t do that she truly believes she can’t.

He won’t let her take $3 billion of vibranium to put in the ground she just wanted him to have a proper burial but Hayward provoked her and set her off.

She can’t feel him. A nod to how Vision said “I only feel you,” When he asked Wanda to kill him there is nothing left. She hot in the car and went to Westview she left and when she left she didn’t have Visions body.

She’s pulled up to place where she planned to grow old in with Vision and it’s been demolished this is the scene where she breaks down crying over it. And when she grieved she lets it get the best of her which is how she put the house back together without realizing she was doing it. Then that spread over the whole town and she is projected her own version of Vision. But I’m unsure if this is really Vision or not because then she’d be way more powerful than I ever believe to be able to create people own her own.

Oh wow she’s showing all the lights and it’s like she’s own set so she’s back to where Agatha had this all set up and she was the audience.

Agatha is choking the twins “I know what you are. You have no idea how dangerous you are. You’re supposed to be a myth. A being capable of spontaneous creation. and here you are using it to make breakfast for dinner.” Maybe Wanda was a prophecy before hand and she just never learned how powerful she really was and now Agatha is trying to feed off her powers I’m assuming she’s going to try to get Wanda to push her powers into her so she can drain her.

“Let go of my children,” Wanda with her accent coming back.

“Oh, yes your children and Vision and this whole little life you’ve made, this is Chaos magic Wanda. That makes you the Scarlett Witch,” Ugh yes one of those moments where they say a name of the movie or a character that’s basically it’s own movie I love it.

I’m gonna research Chaos magic and then I’ll reblog this again after I research some other things too.

End credits time. “Team is ready for launch,” They’re going to use Wanda own power to attack her using Visions actual corpse. He’s been brought back as the one thing he didn’t want to be. A weapon. I’m not sure who that was who powered it up but was it Monica’s contact?

Also doesn’t Agatha have Monica now if she was possessing Fietro? I have a lot of questions that I can’t get out right now

[themonkeycabal]

Wandavision Ep 7 Spoilers

Spoilers below

Good morning. There's a guy power washing the sidewalks at 12:30 a.m., and the drone from the generator is drilling into my brain. So I will watch WandaVision instead of doing something I might regret.

Previously on: Wanda was getting sick of Pietro's shit. Vision knows/thinks his wife is behind all the creepy shenanigans, and he tried to escape the Hex, only to fly to pieces in the real world. I can relate.

Outside, Monica, Jimmy, and Darcy were banished from the SWORD circus by Acting Director Dick, because of course. They snuck back in, also because of course. Darcy hacked AD Dick's files and found out he's Up to Something. Then she ran to try and help Vision and got herself arrested and handcuffed to a jeep. Which is where the brave SWORD agents left her when they ran away as Wanda, attempting to save Vision, expanded the Hex, swallowing Darcy and the SWORD compound, turning it all into a sitcom circus. Well deserved. Well, not Darcy, but anyway.

AD Dick escaped. Unfortunately. But, so did Jimmy and Monica who were off to her mystery aerospace engineer friend to find a way into the Hex.

Also, Tommy and Billy have powers.  

The episode 7 summary is a delight: "Two super-powered beings living ideal suburban lives suspect that everything is not as it seems." You don't say, Disney+.

Wanda wakes, regrets everything, and hides under the covers.  Understandable. Cut away to her addressing the camera The Office style "Look, we've all been there. Letting our fear and anger get the best of us; intentionally expanding the boarders of the false world we created". (cut to screaming running SWORD minions lol).

The boys come to get her, their game is freaking out. The video game controllers can't decide what decade they're in and are glitching it up.

Billy says his head feels weird and noisy. Wanda isn't terribly responsive. Mommy needs some her time.

"As punishment for my reckless evening, I plan on taking a quarantine-style staycation. A whole day. Just to myself. That'll show me." lol

Wanda eventually rouses herself, goes downstairs in her robe and sweats, ignores the boys fighting over a video game controller, and goes for the sugariest cereal. The milk container keeps glitching, she tries very very hard to ignore that.

Interesting Office-style opening credits, where it's just her name on everything. Vision is only added at the end, with the tag "Created by Wanda Maximoff".

Out in the real world, what is the point of SWORD? Like how do they have jurisdiction? Where is SHIELD. Director Mack, wtf, dude?

Anyway, now that part of their camp has been swallowed by the hex, they're further out, staring at the angry glowing force-field. AD Dick is a dick. He wants to know what's happening with the broadcast. His little minion says the signal's gone. Ominously he says "we launch today". Mmmm, what delightfully heavy-handed dipshittery will we have to endure?

Back inside. Vision wakes in the field at the edge of town that is now a circus. And lots and lots of clowns. He gets yelled at by a strongman who seems to think Vision is the new clown and tells him he's late for rehearsal with the escape artist. Who is Darcy. lol

"I put in for the bearded lady. But this alabaster complexion wasn't fooling anyone."

Darcy is chained to a ye olde fire engine or tractor or something. Vision walks up to her making a weird face and kind of waving his hand back and forth between them.

"You don't remember me from last night? We locked eyes, there was an unspoken understanding." Darcy tells him "um, hard pass." lol She busts out of her chains and walks away, Vision chases after.

Back at home, Wanda wants to know if the boys have seen dad, they haven't, but Billy wants to know about that whole thing Uncle Pietro said about dad being dead again. Wanda says Pietro is not their uncle. The boys don't understand, and Wanda has a little rambling breakdown about how she has no answers and maybe there's no meaning to anything ha ha don't worry boys mommy's just having a little depression.

Agnes knocks and then, you know, strolls in, when Wanda magics the door open.

"Hi Agnes. I'd get up but I just don't, ahahahah, want to." If I was Billy or Tommy I'd mount a search for dad. Stat.

Agnes: "I think I got there in the nick of time, 'cause she was one split-end away from cutting her own bangs."

(It's 1 a.m. and I swear to God, that man is still power-washing the sidewalks.)

Agnes suggests the boys go with her and give mommy that 'me time' she so desperately needs. The boys are reluctant but Wanda is ecstatic.

Once alone with her certainly soggy cereal, Wanda settles back to watch crappy daytime TV. But, damn it, the furniture is glitching through the eras.

"I'm fine! I'm fine hahahah. *sigh* I'm fine. i'm fine. … I'm fine."

In the real world. Jimmy and Monica are still on the move. The file on project whatever it was from last episode (Cataract), that Darcy forwarded to Jimmy's email, has finally found its way to him. It's R&D reports.

Oh, that asshole, AD Dick was trying to bring Vision back online. Monica puts the pieces together "Heyward wants his sentient weapon back."

Jimmy says somebody has to tell Wanda.

Good thing they arrive at the other side of the Hex, I guess? Where Monica has another team waiting. An Agent Goodner. They brought her like some sort of big Mars rover thingy.

Vision is still trying to talk to Darcy. "You tried to help me." "Doubtful. I'm notoriously self-involved."

lol, some amusing back and forth. Darcy is an f'ing delight and I don't just say that because I am obviously hideously biased.

Vision distracts her with a mime and takes the opportunity to do his brain mojo on her, waking her up. "Part of me secretly wanted a guest spot on this show, but seriously that sucked."

"Dr. Lewis. I have questions." "I have answers."

And then they steal the funnel cake truck.

"Dr. Lewis, my questions. Are my children safe?" "That I don't know." "And who was that Pietro?" "Beats me."

Wanda is still working on her bowl of cereal. Give it up, sister. The house redecorates itself around her.

Uh-oh, in her talking head segment, about how she doesn't understand whats going on, the person behind the camera speaks, and asks if maybe it's what she deserves. "You're not supposed to talk."

Commercial time. For a depression medication. "Nexus, a unique antidepressant that works to anchor you back to your reality. Or the reality of your choice."

Back in Westview. The boys are hanging at Agnes's. Billy has a rabbit. As happens at your crazy neighbor's house. But, he says he likes it there, because it's quiet. "You're quiet, Agnes. On the inside." J'ACCUSE, AGNES!  

Back at Monica's backup camp, she's getting suited up in her SWORD astronaut suit. Jimmy's sad because Darcy's missing the fun. But, Monica will rescue her. SWORD is worse than SHIELD for slapping their name all over everything.

Monica and the little rover zoom off to the hex. Should she really go that fast? Maybe this is something to take cautiously? Oh, and look, she hit it hard and she's stuck. The Hex doesn't want to let her in, but she keeps trying. And now the Hex is eating into the rover — sorry, *re-writing* it. Well that was a dumb plan. Sorry guys, but come on.

Monica escapes, but the hex eats the rover and then spits it out, the front half transformed into a truck. Monica is shocked, Jimmy calls for a medic, and as they run forward, Jimmy, who has known Monica for like two days, recognizes she's got 'I'm a heroic dummy' face on and he's all "noooooo!". She runs for the hex and pushes her way in.

This is a really long sequence of her going through the hex. Like … too long. Sorry, but it is. There's a whole thing where she's hearing voices from moments in her life, and she hears Carol tell her how she's a tough kid, and now Monica is Filled With Resolve and breaks through the Hex, still in her Astronaut outfit, so like she resisted the sitcom wardrobe department.

I enjoy this show, but there are moments of hokeyness that I find very trying.

The hex rewrites you at a basic level as you pass through it. So, third time through and Monica's eyes are glowy blue and she can, like, see electrical currents, or electromagnetic fields (it looks like). Trippy. She can see power along the power lines, fields around streetlights. Closing her eyes and shaking her head makes it all go away. Of course.

Meanwhile, Darcy and Vision are on their slow-speed getaway in the Funnel Cake truck. She's trying to catch him up on what's happened since he's been dead. They keep hitting red lights and obstacles. Vision thinks Wanda's doing it to keep him from getting home. "I'm not amused," he tells the camera with a very not amused face on. lol

Vision is trying to understand what he is now. It's not going well. "My corporeal form was born from Ultron's plan for global genocide?" "Correct-o." Darcy might not be the best person to be explaining this to him.

"What am I now?" Poor Vision.

Darcy takes a deep breath. In fairness, she looks like maybe she'd rather not be the one doing the explaining, either. "Honestly, I'm a STEM type of lady, so I thought she just flipped a switch on your head and brought you back to life. What I don't get is why you can't leave the hex."

Vision is having an existential crisis. But, Darcy assures him that based on her week-long experience as a fan of WandaVision, he and Wanda do really love each other. So, there's that. "You belong together," says the shameless shipper.

Meanwhile, Monica has arrived at the Maximoff residence and busts into the house, breathlessly trying to tell Wanda it's all Heyward being a dick, but Wanda's stunned by the sudden entry and then too pissed to really listen. "The drones, the missiles, Pietro." "No, Pietro wasn't us." "All you do is lie." She's tossing Monica around with her powers.

Monica, friend, buddy, pal, was that really your plan? To barge right in and just … what? Talk fast and hope she didn't yeet your ass again? Okay, she didn't have a lot of time, I get that, but surely she could have come up with something. Like, she should have found Darcy and Vision first, and then the three of them could approach Wanda. But, no. Jimmy Woo would have a plan, Monica.

Well, fortunately for Monica she's been rewritten into Electricity Lass. She hits the ground with a staticky crackle and her eyes glow blue again. Wanda's all "bu-whu?"

"The only lies I've told are the ones you put in my mouth," Monica says all angry like. Mmmkay, I thought you were trying to help? Wanda does not care for this response. Because, no offense Monica, but the last time she heard your voice, she had a missile launched at her head.

Monica challenges her. "Do it then, take me out." Not an approach I’d go for, but it seems to work, and Wanda hesitates and Monica tries to warn her again, that unlike Wanda who isn’t actually violent and evil, Heyward will burn down Westview to get what he wants. "Don't let him make you the villain."

"Maybe I already am."

Next door, Agnes is looking out the window, watching them, with a considering look on her face. BECAUSE SHE IS IN ON WHATEVER THIS IS.

Monica is still trying to talk down Wanda. Agnes interrupts. Creepily. And shepherds Wanda away.

Vision and Darcy are thwarted in their journey again. "Oh come on! Kids? What's next? Puppies?"

Vision takes the faster way and intangibles himself out of the van and flies off, leaving Darcy at the endless intersection. "Go on! I'll just meet you there then?"

Back at Agnes's shack of creepy ladies who are freaking up to something. Where are the boys? Oh, Wanda notices the half-eaten PB&Js and the nightmarish kids' show on the telly. Behind her the bunny is in its cage. No sign of the boys. Agnes says they're probably playing in the basement.

Wanda wanders off to find them. But, there are no boys, only horror show creepiness. The basement turns into some weird sort of domed cavern with arches all around and in the middle a weird glowing rectangle.

Agnes comes up behind her. "You didn't think you were the only magical girl in town, did you?" I was wise to you, Agnes. Which, given she was a featured co-star, was probably no great insight on my part. BUT STILL!

"The name's Agatha Harkness. Lovely to finally meet you, dear." OH! LOLOLOL! OH, I didn't see that one coming. Wow, you got me, show. It never occurred to me for a second that it was Agatha Harkness.

And now a fantastic montage of Agatha doing tricksy things as Agnes through the series, with the best theme song ever "Who's been messing up everything? It's been Agatha, all along! Who's been pulling every evil string? It's been Agatha, all along. She's insidious. HA HA! So perfidious." Oh man, this is great. "And I killed Sparky, too."

LOL. Great ending.

Hey, an unexpected mid-credits scene of Monica trying to get into the house. Maybe Agnes's? Oh, yeah, she finds a storm cellar and opens the doors, to see a stone stairway with vines or roots growing all around it and zippy electrical sparks and such. Pietro appears behind her. "Snoopers gonna snoop."

Credits!

Well then.

I KNEW IT! I didn't know what I knew, but I knew I knew a thing!

[lightneverfades]

Frostiron AU (WandaVision) -  Episode 9

Here’s a few more of the WandaVision Frostiron AU I made! 

Storyline: (Contains Spoilers)

< Story is set in an alternate universe set after Thanos is defeated >

Loki is alive, lives through the events of End Game but loses Tony in the fight when Tony sacrifices himself to use the Infinity Stones. Loki can’t cope with what’s happened and resurrects Tony from the dead and creates an alternate reality where they are in a sitcom, living as a happy couple... to shut out the real world.

Note: Fic is based on previous posts found here! Below scene is based on the end credits in WandaVision! ;) I also changed the clothes he’s wearing just a little bit, to match how Wanda changed her outfit (Loki’s is already so epic, so I decided I’ll just make it a bit different! :P)

Year 2023 Fall

The sun had set by the time Loki had stepped foot back into the little cabin he’d spent with Tony by the lakeside, hidden away from prying eyes by a glamour so that the house stayed invisible to the normal eye.

It was still left the way it was - all of their stuff was littered about like tokens of a memory past before the events of the battle with Thanos. Loki hadn’t touched them - he didn’t feel it was necessary to do so. A shadow clung to each corner even as Loki turned the lights on, the house feeling hollow and empty without the presence of Tony Stark.

Loki took a heavy step further into their former home, face dry now of tears. His clothes shimmered and changed, rippling for a moment before settling back to cloth himself in a simple emerald t-shirt that Tony used to tease him in (“You look like a leprechaun, babe! Hah!”) and a dark pair of fitted long pants.

Slowly, he moved into the kitchen where more memories greeted Loki.

Framed and propped up near the kitchen sink among all the appliances and tableware was a photo of Tony and Loki laughing together, arms wrapped halfway around each other. Someone had taken the photo just after they had come back from a fight; he could see the small cuts and bruises on Tony’s cheek, his hair all scruffy and mussed. But despite the injuries, his face never looked more alive than he was in that moment. Beside him, Loki’s eyes were bright with mirth.

Loki took it in his hands, brushing off the dust that had settled over it and stared, feeling his breath and heart beating steadily. It took a huge effort for him not to fall apart again and regret his decision to let everything go…

But I haven’t let you go, Stark… Not yet. Not while I still live and breath. The Avengers… Thor… The team will be looking for me now, after what I have done. And I… I may not be shown the same mercy they had done once, not anymore… Loki thought, holding the photo tightly to him, so much so that he heard a ‘clink’ and found the glass cover of the photo frame break. He looked at it in surprise, his strength having coming through unexpectedly.

Loki pulled the photo out of the frame and set the remnants of it aside. Pressing the photo to his chest, as if he were embracing an invisible figure he could not touch, he walked down to the bottom floor of the cabin, where Tony occasionally worked on various updates on his Iron Man suits. Unlike the homey feel of the cabin upstairs, Tony’s workshop had a similar stylistic design of the Avengers tower, covered in concrete, steel and glass.

Typing in the passcode easily (“L O K I”), the god stepped into the familiar work station and smiled a little at how utterly messy the place looked. Like the other items above him, Loki had left it the way it was. Most of the tools were scattered about, along with blueprints mapping out equations of the time travel machine Tony had been working on day and night before he succeeded in completing it. Empty coffee cups stained the forms, rims of it on the paper, leaving its mark.

Loki closed his eyes and felt the thrum of massive energy shifting through him, alive and ever present. Some of his magical essence moved along with that of the other source of magic that he’d taken from Agatha. The witch’s magic was vibrant with energy but it was filled with darkness and it rebelled against its new master, crackling within him.

With a breath, Loki summoned the book of dark magic, the Darkhold, in front of him. It floated, as if it had a life of its own. The ancient volume shimmered with a power, having been passed on from one powerful being to another. Carrying an orange hue, its magic vibrated, as if being exposed to open air was causing it to tremble.

“Open”, Loki said in the ancient tongue, and it did as it was commanded, peeling back its covers. It seemed to understand what Loki desired, because the book flipped through until it stopped abruptly at a page that was etched with words of the old script of the Hell Dimension. Having the ability of the Allspeak came with perks, as Loki was able to decipher the title page.

Multiple universes… Loki read and this time, he reached out to grip the book with his free hand. Almost immediately, his illusions vanished, his appearance shifting from his plain Midgardian appearance into armor that he’d worn when he’d faced Agatha in his true self.

Gold armor coated him, the long green cape floating around him defying gravity, the horns of his half helmet glittering as it took form and weighed over his head. In the center of his helmet, however, a different shape took the place of its usual ‘V’ shape. Instead, embedded within the gold was a piece of the arc reactor that Tony had given him, a part of Tony’s creations pulsing brightly in cerulean blue with him.

The workshop darkened abruptly and the only source of light now came from Loki and the Darkhold. The words from the book seemed to float upwards and gleam like the edge of a knife, inviting Loki further. The photo Loki gripped tightly in his other hand vanished, disappearing back for safekeeping. Transfixed, Loki could not turn away from the many possibilities it held. Emerald green light surrounded him as he floated upwards and sat in mid-air, raising the book in front of him.

Another universe… perhaps in this one, I can find Tony. The sun can shine on us again, Loki thought, pushing away the small voice that advised against him. After all, he had nothing more to lose. This universe was empty… He had no purpose, not anymore. Loki Laufeyson in this universe was a fugitive, a villain once more. If he could escape all this and find Tony in another universe, then perhaps… then he could finally become whole once again. All he needed now was find the lost piece so he could feel alive again.

Loki, I need you-!

The urgent scream that echoed out of nowhere caught Loki off guard and he jerked, his head whirling to look around him and finding nothing but the darkly lit workshop, empty and silent.

“Tony?” Loki choked out the words, eyes widening in disbelief. He look down at the Darkhold, narrowing his eyes. What had just happened?

“Are you playing tricks with me?” Loki accused and the book did nothing but continue to float, relaying the details of multiple universes in front of him and how to travel to them. Loki’s eyes trailed over it, but his heart was pounding. He couldn’t focus. How could he have heard Tony, when he had just parted with the real one? Was he merely wishing him back? Is that why he heard him?

Loki!

This time Tony’s cry for help was so clear, Loki knew he could not have imagined it. The realization that he had heard that familiar voice for real warmed him, but it was only temporary, for the pain and desperation ebbed in Tony’s voice hurt him like nothing else.

“Wait for me, Stark…” Loki whispered, his eyes burning bright. Within his iris, the magic swarmed to the surface and colored his orbs fully. But anyone who looked closely would have noticed flecks of dark magic starting to enclose around the green, shading the light.

“I am coming.”

[fulcrumahsokaamidala]

Saturday Spectacular #19

Happy Saturday!!! So this is me thanking awesome fanfic writers for their amazing work and all the time they put into their fics. ♥️ I want to recommend spectacular fanfic stories I read this week! ♥️ All posts will be tagged #saturday spectacular fic rec

Hello friends, it’s been a while since I’ve done one of these. It’s been a crazy few months. This semester I started college and am getting an associate's degree in one year that means I’m taking 23 credits this fall term. It’s been a bit crazy but I’ve still been read fic so this what I’ve read since September 21. It’s not going to be in order.

light upon darkened dreams by @alexiablackbriar13 | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: After the events of 8x04, Oliver remains awake long into the night, getting lost in his thoughts about his children and Felicity. It's a good thing he isn't asleep, because he catches Mia suffering from a horrific nightmare. How can a father comfort his daughter from the future from a bad dream when they're still practical strangers to each other?

Artemis by @laxit21 | Arrow | WIP

Summary: When the Queen’s Gambit sank, two people were stranded on Lian Yu. Five years later, four came back.

Daughter of the Demon by @laxit21 | Arrow | WIP

Summary: What if in 1988 while traveling through Las Vegas Ra’s al Ghul bumps into a nice waitress named Donna Smoak and they have one-night stand together? A little bundle of joy named Felicity Smoak is the result. In 2014, the Demon Head becomes aware of his youngest daughter’s existence.

The Ravager by @laxit21 | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Slade Wilson’s plan for revenge against Oliver took time, money and no shortage of lives to pull together. His plan didn’t anticipate Felicity Smoak. How will his plan change now that his lost-lost daughter is working with the very man he’s trying to destroy?

Felicity of Themiscyra by @laxit21 | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Years ago, Donna Smoak left the island of Themiscyra and her sister Queen Hippolyta behind to live in man’s world. She never told Felicity the truth about where she came from. As a result of the Undertaking, Felicity discovers some of her Amazonian abilities and makes an interesting new friend: Diana Prince.

The Daughter That Was Left by @laxit21 | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Before the Gambit, Oliver Queen met QC intern Felicity Smoak. When he boarded the Gambit, he left something behind. Now, five long years later someone is waiting for him.

I Scream But No Sound Comes out by @laxit21 | Arrow | WIP

Summary: When Oliver returns from Lian Yu after five years, he comes back different. What happened there damaged more than just his body. How will his friends and family deal with this new Oliver?

The Point of No Return by @oneofthosecrazygirls-fics | Arrow | Completed

Summary Oliver and Felicity prepare for their first date. This fic is part of the What Should’ve Been ‘verse, but can be read as a stand-alone fic.

Can’t Help Falling in Love by @smoaking-greenarrow | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Collection of fluff fics based on Tumblr prompts! Some are angsty, but most of this is fluffy. Enjoy!

Let the Light Shine Through by @griever11 | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: Your heart starts healing and it’s a slow process. After all, it’s been in shambles; sharp, cruel pieces of rubble lying on the bottom of your rib cage for so long. Wounds heal, as they say. They’ll scar, and they hurt, but they heal.

Baby Daddy by more0rLessJess | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Bartender Oliver Queen was living his twenties to the fullest, he lived with his best friend John Diggle, and his brother in everything but blood, Tommy Merlyn just moved into their apartment as he started his professional baseball career for the Starling City Rockets. On top of that, his childhood best friend Felicity Smoak, who was no longer goth and instead blonde and beautiful, was back in town and they were hanging out again. Oliver thought his days were going to be filled with partying, one night stands, and boys weekends while also spending quality time with the girl everyone kept telling him he was in love with. Until his ex girlfriend dropped a baby on his doorstep who turned out to be his son. After a lot of thought and Felicity Smoak peptalks, Oliver decides to keep and raise his son with the help of his friends. Or the Freeform sitcom Baby Daddy AU that no one asked for but I needed to write. Aka Oliver and Felicity are childhood friends and are hopelessly in love with eachother and everyone knows but them, oh and now they're raising a baby. What could go wrong?

call me my love, day or night by @alexiablackbriar13 | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: As Mia and William are enjoying their Monte Cristos, Oliver receives a phone call from somebody who is not Curtis. Somebody who is far, far more important.

and you'll blow us all away by inlovewithimpossibility | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: Oliver desperately tries to connect with his daughter but it seems all he needed was a photograph and the memory of a woman both of them love more than anything. [Post-8x04 Oliver & Mia moment]

Fight To Live by CSM | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: Post 803. Oliver's conversation with adult William and Mia does not go as planned and there is only one person that can help him. Takes places directly after the episode.

New York's Finest (Supernatural) Detectives by BillCipherpines | Brooklyn Nine-Nine & Shadowhunters | Completed

Summary: Jake Peralta is 100%, without a doubt, definitely sure that his friend Simon Lewis is a vampire. But when he sets out to prove it to his friends they get sucked into the world of Shadowhunters and realize that petty drug dealers are the least of New York's problems. But not to worry, New York's finest Shadowhunters are on the case

The Unlikeliest Places by @griever11 | Arrow | Completed

Summary: 'It all starts on an unassuming Friday evening. Or rather, if she’s being honest with herself, everything else in her life ends on that Friday.' 

An AU meeting fic where Felicity Smoak accidentally-on-purpose stumbles upon some shady activity as an IT tech for Queen Consolidated and realises that she really isn't being paid enough for any of this.

In Another Life (I could be your man) by angelicmisskitty | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Their lives couldn't be more different - and yet Oliver can't take his eyes off the beautiful blonde woman that leaves the subway every morning at 7.43am. There is something about her that makes him look up every morning - something that also makes him aware he'll never be good enough for her, or that she'd even notice him.

He had no idea how much his life would change the day he rushed over to help her...

Olicity AU - no Lian Yu, no saving the city (at least not in the way we know from Arrow :D )

Here At Last by thecomebackkids99 | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: A 8x04 spec fic of what happens right after Mia, William, and Connor are transported to the bunker.

Against All Odds by CSM | Arrow | Completed

Summary: Post 3x14. Time Travel. Going back in time. Changing the future is not an exact science but he knows if anyone can do it, it’s her. If there is one thing Eleanor Queen can do, is be a hero. After all she has heroes’ blood pumping through her veins.

Lucas' Adventures by CSM | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Post 2x07. One late night in the foundry Oliver finds an abandoned baby, who he later finds out is his biological son, the only thing is the baby seems to think Felicity is his mother, which is impossible. Or is it? aka, Mia Smoak gets tired of her baby brother and sends him to 2013 where their unsuspecting parents find him. Companion piece to Impeccable Genetics.My contribution for the Olicity Summer Sizzle

“Time for a story” Drabble Series by @smkkbert | Arrow | WIP

Summary: This fic shows Olicity and their life as a (married) couple with family. Although Olicity (and their kids) are the protagonists, other characters of Arrow and Flash make appearances. It started as a drabble series, but developed more and more into a full domectic AU. Although some chapters are still drabble-like, there are longer storylines by now.

With You by @griever11 | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: Post 8x03 Leap of Faith. Oliver, William and Mia have a lot of feelings and in classic Queen fashion, have somewhat of a hard time expressing them. Oliver learns about the future and his kids try to make sense of the past.

in the here and now by @alexiablackbriar13 | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: Set immediately post-8x03. “Dad?” Oliver stares in utter disbelief at the trio who have appeared on the bunker platform along with him in a blinding flash of light. For a good couple of seconds, his brain just… stops functioning. He’s so astonished that he can’t think, he can’t breathe, he can’t feel anything but shock.

The Blame Game by inlovewithimpossibility | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: After they recover from their sudden appearance in the past, what's left of FTA still need to deal with what happened before they left. Mia and Connor both seek a moment of peace and Mia's brother and father are the guiding hand she needs as she feels like she's drowning.

There Are Two Sides to Every Story by @oneofthosecrazygirls-fics | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Susan Williams and Bethany Snow are two of Starling City’s most prominent journalists...but their styles are very different.This is a series of articles written by these two journalists from the time of the sinking of the Queen’s Gambit to the present day.**set in the What Should’ve Been ‘verse**

Campfire Stories by @realityisoverrated-fic | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: Samantha has finally agreed to allow William to spend a month of his summer vacation with Oliver, Tommy, and Felicity. William asks to spend his first weekend with Oliver camping - alone. Oliver is more than a little nervous to spend time alone with his son when he still feels like a stranger.

The First Time by @realityisoverrated-fic | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: Every love story has a beginning, theirs started with a death.

Home Is Where You Are by @realityisoverrated-fic | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: Felicity is away on business and missing home. Tommy surprises her with an unexpected visit.

The Italian Restaurant by @realityisoverrated-fic | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: Felicity, Oliver and Tommy go on their first date which leads to other firsts.

Cobble Hill by @realityisoverrated-fic | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: Tommy surprises Oliver and Felicity with a proposal that will mark a milestone in their relationship.

Up All Night by @realityisoverrated-fic | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: After a close call in the field, Oliver and Felicity reconnect.

Will You Still Love Me, Tomorrow? by @realityisoverrated-fic | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: Donna arrives for an unexpected visit and Felicity must decide if she is going to reveal the truth about her relationship with Oliver and Tommy.

Wherever You Are, There I Am by @realityisoverrated-fic | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: The history of Oliver Queen and Tommy Merlyn's relationship.

Burgers & Lies by @realityisoverrated-fic | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: Tommy confronts Felicity about a secret she has been keeping.

Welcome Home by @realityisoverrated-fic | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: Felicity has been away for two weeks and missing her guys. Oliver and Tommy are very happy when she returns from her trip early.

Twenty Questions Over Brunch by @realityisoverrated-fic | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: Thea has a few questions for Felicity about her relationship with Oliver and Tommy.

Look Me In The Eye And Make Me Feel The Truth by @realityisoverrated-fic | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: A night out in the public eye might be more than their relationship can take.

Three by @realityisoverrated-fic | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: Felicity hasn't been acting herself all week. Tommy and Oliver finally confront her and they aren't prepared for what she tells them.

Practical Jokes and Other Misunderstandings by @realityisoverrated-fic | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: Oliver and Tommy tell Thea about their relationship.

House Warming by @realityisoverrated-fic | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: Oliver, Felicity and Tommy celebrate their first night together in their new home.

Perfect by @realityisoverrated-fic | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: Felicity receives a call in the middle of the night from a distraught Tommy.

Nine to Five by @griever11​ | Arrow | Completed

Summary: The new receptionist at Oliver's office is weird, quirky and really cute but totally not his type. At all. Or so he tells himself. An Arrow/The Office AU.

keep this love in a photograph by @alexiablackbriar13​ | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: An alternate 8x01 scene.Moira suspects that there is more to her son than meets the eye when Oliver returns home from the island after twelve years.When she catches him with the photo he's carrying around of him with Felicity Smoak and a baby, a confrontation and an emotional conversation ensue.

Mothers know best by @smkkbert​ | Arrow | Completed

Summary: Since they have been kids, they have been best friends. Since they have been friends, their mothers wanted them to be together.After coming back from the east coast, Felicity takes over a position at Queen Consolidated, the company her best friend will soon take over from his father. Their mothers still push for them to be together, and they seem closer to that goal than ever because wedding bells are ringing. The only problem is that they both plan to get married to someone else.

The Legacy of a Queen by inlovewithimpossibility | Arrow | WIP 

Summary: Series of one-shots from a future AU where Oliver and Felicity are able to raise their children after they defeat the Ninth Circle and Oliver hangs up the hood

A Brother in Arms by inlovewithimpossibility | Arrow | WIP 

Summary: “I just… she really found me and sent you here?” He asks quietly and John’s face morphs from concern into a sad smile as he nods.“Oliver, you know she’d be here herself if it weren’t for Mia.”“I… it’s been a week. She said she’d find me but I didn’t expect…” Missing moment from 8x01 where John and Oliver discuss Felicity finding Oliver and sending John to Earth-2 to help his brother.

Providence by @so-caffeinated | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Will Queen has struggled in silence in the year since he was shot. But when a shadowy crime lord known as Domino targets the only woman Will’s ever truly loved, fate forces him to confront his demons in ways he never could have imagined… Whether he wants to or not. Amelia Prescott has fought to take control of her life since learning two years ago that her personal and professional worlds were manipulated by others. But nothing can prepare her for just how hard she’ll have to fight to set her own course, especially when her heart belongs to a damaged man and a crime lord threatens her every professional move… And her life. Destiny brings them together, but as chaos reigns and personal demons haunt Will and Amelia both, it may also threaten to tear them apart.

What Are You Doing Here, Miss Queen? by inlovewithimpossibility | Arrow | WIP 

Summary Sara Lance prides herself on knowing people, she gets them in a way a lot of others struggle with. So when a mysterious blonde shows up to help with the fight of their lives, Sara is surprised when there's something about her that she just can't put her finger on. That is until she figures out that this supposed 'Green Arrow from another earth' is actually Oliver's time-displaced daughter. [Sara sees straight through Mia's Crisis disguise, confronts her about what she's doing in the past, and forces father and daughter into a conversation that is clear they needed to have]

the true meaning of sacrifice by inlovewithimpossibility | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: Around five years after Crisis, Felicity is surprised and angry when a group of three heroes show up at her door demanding help from her.

i will find you again by inlovewithimpossibility | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: a short-introspective on oliver in s8 inspired by the scene in the trailer as he takes a moment to remember the reason he's fighting. his wife, his children... they give him the strength he needs to be the hero the universe requires

Paging Dr. Smoak by @laxit21 | Arrow | WIP

Summary: When Oliver Queen gets into a car accident, he meets Dr. Felicity Smoak. He had no idea how much a chance meeting would change his life.

little wonders (twists and turns of fate) by @alexiablackbriar13​ | Arrow | Completed  Summary: Oliver and Felicity's drunken mistake of a hook-up in the bunker comes with unexpected consequences in the form of a... souvenir.Deciding to remain romantically uninvolved, the two of them will have to battle all the trials and tribulations of maintaining a platonic relationship while Felicity is pregnant and the two of them are living together, coping with all the emotional baggage that they both bring to the table - and dealing with the fact that they are still very much in love with each other, but scarred by the events that broke them apart in the first place.

time falls away (in these small hours) by @alexiablackbriar13​ | Arrow | Completed

Summary: Missing scene and side-story oneshots and drabbles set within my S5 post-bunker sex AU little wonders (twists and turns of fate). (Will contain spoilers) Summary for little wonders: Oliver and Felicity's drunken mistake of a hook-up in the bunker comes with unexpected consequences in the form of a... souvenir. 

Must be what I need by Nerdofmanytalents | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: Thea gets to meet the reason for her brother's preoccupation of late. Its both exciting and terrifying.

Hawkins: The Upside by allonsysilvertongue | Stranger Things | WIP

Summary: A collection of one shots featuring Joyce Byers and Jim Hopper.Recent Update: "I think you're beautiful."

Welcome to Starling Prep Elementary by inlovewithimpossibility | Arrow | Completed

Summary: When William Clayton and Adalyn Smoak bond over being the two new kids in Starling Prep Elementary's first-grade class, their parents are not prepared for what comes of their children's friendship. Plus, it doesn't hurt that both Oliver and Felicity are single.

Our Version of Events by @machawicket​ & @geneeste​ | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Action star Ollie Queen is trying to clean up his image and land parts that require him to do more than appear shirtless while fighting stuntmen. Pop star Felicity Smoak wants to be seen as an adult in time for the release of her new, grittier album. And talent manager John Diggle’s got an idea about what coverage of Oliver and Felicity’s brand new (and totally fake) romance could do for them both.

Workouts and Babbles by @elasticmonk​ | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Oliver comes to the rescue of one cute blonde at his gym just as Felicity stumbles upon one handsome mayor at her gym. They both have something in common, but will it bring them happiness?

Bodyguard by originalhybridlover | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Felicity needs a new bodyguard and Diggle referred her to an old friend, Oliver Queen. Unknowingly she meets the man she would one day marry.

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

@hope-for-olicity @emdee8907 @malafle @laxit21 @icannotbelieveiamhere

[likesolastalgia]

In which I have felt endless feelings about Grantaire and Marius’s west end friendship (lookin’ at you, Adam Filipe) and also just endless feelings in general. 

ft. bromance, complaining about relationships, the usual

-

It happens more often than it should.

Maybe if they were dramatic teenagers, or characters in a sitcom, or if they existed in any form of larger-than-life media where it was acceptable to place the entirety of your dwindling self-worth into the hands of someone who actively disliked you, that’swhen it would have made sense. But as it is, when it comes to Enjolras, Grantaire just keeps fucking up: over and over.

It’s cooler outside than he expects, after the heat of too many bodies in the too small space of Courfeyrac and Marius’s apartment. Maybe it’s that he’s too hot too, worked up almost to a state of panic. And sure, he shouldn’t have run away from the situation, cowardly, as always, but he can’t imagine that anyone there was too pleased with the mood dampener of the same argument that his every interaction with Enjolras seemed to turn into. He can’t imagine that he could have stood much more of that interaction in the first place.

So, as usual, he ran.

He’s hoping for some kind of solitude, the kind where he can fume silently, cling to some sort of outdated constructs of masculinity while he pretends he’s not on the verge of crying over a boy, and then return to the party to get as drunk as he possibly can. As plans go, he thinks it’s a pretty good one.

His plans are thwarted, however, when he rounds a corner of the building and sees someone already sitting on the bench by the street. The person turns at the sound of footsetps, waving him over, and his heart sinks. Marius. He’s not sure he can deal with this right now.

He sits down on the edge of the bench, nods a greeting in Marius’s direction. For a moment, neither of them speak.

“So, what are you doing out here?” Grantaire asks, finally.

“I’m not a big fan of crowds,” Marius responds, which Grantaire guesses is probably true, but it strikes him as only half an explanation.

“Yet you live with the most social member of our friend group.”

Marius doesn’t respond to that, just watches as Grantaire fumbles lighting a cigarette, then he throws his question back to him. “Why are you here?”

“I’m not a fan of harsh judgement.” God, why was Enjolras even here? Grantaire would have thought he hated parties. “Or being shouted at about political theory, or just in general.”

“Did something happen between you guys?” Marius asks tentatively.

Grantaire laughs, loud and unamused. “Something happen between me and Enjolras? Fuck no. Whatwould give you that idea?” He recognizes that he’s being harsh, too loud, too belligerent, too drunk. Enjolras’s words thrown back in his face.

He takes a deep breath and then another, followed by a drag of his cigarette. “I’m sorry,” he says, finally.

Marius breaks his stunned silence, “No I’m sorry!”

“I’m an asshole.”

“You’re not an asshole,” Marius responds immediately, and something about the sincerity in his tone makes Grantaire’s throat tighten.

He hunches his shoulders, wants nothing more than to curl into himself completely. He feels Marius’s eyes on him, concerned, and he can still hear Enjolras’s words ringing in his ears, can feel the silence that followed: deafening in its loudness. He has to leave, he decides. He knows Courfeyrac will be annoyed at him for going early and knows for sure that Joly will chew him out later for his, well, every action that night, but right now, the only thought on his mind is that he has to go.

And anyway, he knows that if he stays here any longer, with the sounds of the party still drifting down the street from the brightly lit balcony like a constant reminder of his failure, he’s almost definitely going to cry, and he can’t do that to Marius. The kid is already so awkward, Grantaire can only imagine how much worse he would make things by bringing even more unwarranted emotion to the situation than he has already.

“Do you really want to know why I left?” Marius asks quietly and Grantaire has to admit, it’s unexpected.

He shrugs, realizes he’s still being an asshole and nods instead, into the hand he’s dropped his face into.

“Well, she’s here. You know, the girl?” The Girl, Grantaire knows the one. He nods again. “She introduced herself to me and we talked, sort of. She’s so nice and so cool. It was like she knew every person there and I, well,” Marius falters and Grantaire wipes his face on his sleeve before turning to face him. He’s wearing a kind of pained expression and he’s not looking at Grantaire anymore, is staring down at his hands instead which are clenched tightly in his lap.

“So, your girlfriend has some friends, and?” Grantaire hopes his voice doesn’t sound as strained out loud as it does in his own head.

“It’s not that she has friends,” Marius continues. “It’s that she has so many. She belongs here so perfectly, it’s like she seems to belong everywhere. She’s charming and sweet and she always knows the right thing to say and I - I’m - she deserves better.”

Oh. Oh.

Part of Grantaire wants to take Marius by the shoulders and shake sense into him. Another part of him just wantsto cry again.

“Pontmercy, did you physically ghost a girl who was actively flirting with you because, and I quote, she deserves better?”

Marius bites his lip. Anyone else would have argued with him, or at the very least taken offence at his aggressive tone, but Marius just sighs and then very quietly, as if he’s afraid that speaking the words too loudly might make them true, says, “I don’t even think she was flirting with me.”

He looks so small, tucked into a corner of the bench, staring at nothing, and picking at his cuticles. Grantaire scoots closer to him until their shoulders are almost touching.

“Look at us,” Grantaire says, with a bitter kind of exhaustion that he usually tries not to give into until much later in the night, when he’s alone, curled up in bed, preferbaly drunk enough to ignore anything that could possibly manifest into a feeling. “We’re going to be alone forever.”

Marius barely acknowledges him, and Grantaire immediately feels a pang of guilt. Marius doesn’t deserve any of this, the self-hatred and shame that never seems to hit him harder than when he’s been around Enjolras, the fear of rejection pricking at his temples like the start of a headache.

Grantaire flicks the end of his ciegarette onto the ground, watches the red glow of its tip burn down into nothing.

He doesn’t think he can stand much more of this.

He leans sideways until his head rests against Marius’s shoulder, squeezes his eyes shut. For a moment, Marius tenses and Grantaire is worried that once again, he’s fucked up, ruined the situation by injecting it with his own desperate need for comfort, but then Marius shifts beside him, bringing his arm up around Grantaire’s shoulders.

“Is it like that with him too?” Marius asks, simply, and not for the first time, Grantaire thinks that he’s more perceptive than any of them give him credit for.

He can’t bring himself to talk about it, barely even wants to think too hard, so he just nods once into Marius’s jacket, feels the arm around him tighen briefly.

“It’s ok,” Marius says, knowing and gentle, and Grantaire needs him to stop being such a good person, stop putting the situation together so perfeclty in his head because this sort of understanding makes him feel inexplicably worse in the face of his own self-hatred. “It’ll be ok.”

Neither of them talks for a while. Grantaire takes deep breaths through his nose and Marius pats his shoulder every now and then and the vicious spinning of the world around them slows gradually until everything comes back into a sort of dim focus: normality, Grantaire thinks.

“Can I have a cigarette?” Marius asks, after a moment, and Grantaire gives a snort that’s maybe a laugh as he pulls away.

“Yeah, sure.”

Marius smiles.

[holidaywishes]

It Had To Be You XII

Chapter Twelve: Change

 Summary: You and James are trying to navigate your relationship once you get back to Calgary while you prepare for your trial in October.

  Author’s Note: Alrighty! So, 2017 is wrapping up already in this chapter. Fast year! I wanted to explain that I thought it was better to sum up all the partying that (Y/N) did in Scotland into one section in the last chapter or else it would have just been repetitive and I would just constantly ramble; I think it’s safe to say that you get the gist of what would’ve happened. 2017 will wrap up at the beginning of the next chapter and then, the plan is, the next two or three chapters will catch us up to real time. I know this one is quite long but I hope you enjoy it!

   Warnings: Trigger Warning, recounts of rape, talk of violence, angst and probably some swearing

  Song Credit: Change -- Moon Taxi

  masterlist

   “It’s not like I meant to run away,” you told the counsellor that was assigned to you before you left, “I just… I was already going away”

  “I’m sure James didn’t mean to make you feel like you had to stay here,” your counsellor mentioned as you scoffed, of course he did you thought to yourself, “he was freaked out too”

  “Yeah, Yes, sure..” you added, “I know. I guess. I can understand that but it didn’t happen to him. It happened to me. And now.. he cheated on me but keeps telling me it’s over and I don’t believe him really. It still feels like he’s hiding something.”

  “Are you sure you just don’t want him to be hiding something?” she questioned, leaning forward in her chair

  “Of course not. What I want is for him to be honest. Or, I don’t know, for us to at least go back to how we were. I miss the us we used to be…” She sat back in her chair, scribbling something in her notebook before smirking forcing you to ask what she was laughing at.

  “I’m not laughing. I’ve heard this before, of course, but you can’t go back to how you were. Things will never be like that again, they won’t be normal,” you stared at her, your face falling, “the two of you just have to find your footing now. Try going to couples therapy sessions, that might help. But don’t expect your relationship to be perfect again. If it ever was to begin with.” When the session finished, you thought about what she said and did some research on couples therapy in the city; You found a few options and brought it up to James.

  “You want to go to couples therapy?” he said surprised

  “I think it would be good for us,” you replied, “we need to communicate again, be on the same page about stuff. We both need to start trusting each other again.” You could tell he wasn’t sure about it, looking at the printed sheet of research you gave him and pacing around the room.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Absolutely.” He nodded his head in agreement and two days later you were in another therapists office talking about your feelings and it all came back to your experience.

  “I didn’t know what to do,” James started, “I heard her calling out for help and I didn’t know what was happening in there. I couldn’t get in. I couldn’t help her and when everything finally ended, and we got in, I couldn’t touch her. I knew I was saying all the wrong things but I just didn’t know what to do…” By the time he finished he was out of breath and you wanted to give him a minute before you said anything.

  “(Y/N) how does hearing what James felt make you feel?” your therapist added

  “Can I just..” James interrupted just as you opened your mouth, but you motioned for him to continue, “Look, I know that I had no right to do a lot of what I did. I didn’t have any right to make you get a rape kit, I didn’t have a right to tell people what happened. But I mean, you disappeared. You left, you wouldn’t let me in. You kept pushing me away! I needed comfort, I guess I wanted to be consoled. I made a decision, a choice, but it’s over now and you’re still holding it over my head.” You kept your arms close to your body as he spewed his anger between you and the therapist, when he finally stopped and let you speak, you kind of just spat out everything you were thinking

  “James, you have to understand. I was starting this brand new adventure that was supposed to be amazing and rewarding and I was going to be gone, away from the people I loved, for half a year. And then this horrifying thing happens to me five days before I’m supposed to leave and I have to spend the last few days before I leave talking to lawyers and police and nurses and going through an extended.. trauma. I didn’t want that to be my last memory before I went away. So, yeah, sure, I pushed you away,” you turned to James, “because you kept pushing me to talk about it. You didn’t understand that I needed it to just not exist right then. At that moment. Either that or you didn’t care…”

  “Okay, let’s ju--” the therapist tried to ease the tension

  “You have a lot of nerve you know. Saying that we’re in this mess because of me. Because I’m holding the fact that you cheated on me over your head. Your ‘choice’ is not on me. I didn’t realize you were such a baby who needed consoling. I mean how would I right? Since you’re gone every other day?” You continued harshly before James suddenly chimed in

  “I have a lot of nerve?! I’m being honest here, which is what you wanted from me! I’m here because you wanted to be here”

  “Oh I’m sorry, I thought our relationship was worth taking some time to work on!” you interrupted

  “Don’t even try to make me out to be the bad guy here! This is some kind of trick or trap or something. To get me to say something that’ll be the last straw and y-”

  “ENOUGH!” your therapist suddenly yelled, quieting the two of you, “Jesus. I have never had so much bickering here. Usually, it’s painful silence. As annoying as this is, it’s good. It means you both still care enough about the relationship to fight for it. But you have to talk to each other. Not yell, not argue, not blame. Talk. Go on a date. Have a night in free from distractions and tell each other secrets. Get back to being a couple.” With a silent glance at James, you thanked your therapist and scheduled another appointment with the receptionist.

  The car ride home was relatively quiet but in a comfortable way. James wasn’t tense or angry, he was just kind of content it seemed like; he said what he needed to say and you said what you knew he needed to hear. The next hurdle would be the worst. Preparing for trial...

  “NO NO ABSOLUTELY NOT!” your lawyer yelled as he paced the room, “YOU CAN’T TALK LIKE THAT TO A DEFENCE ATTORNEY!”

  “I’m not allowed to lie on the stand,” you quipped, “I’m just being honest…”

  “No, you’re being a brat.”

  “You’re cross-examining me like the DA would right? He’s gonna call me names and say it was my fault and blah blah blah, right?”

  “I’m preparing you for the worst”

  “Right and that’s pretty much the worse, unless he forces me to stand in front of… him,” you couldn’t bring yourself to say Marcus’ name out loud, “and be extra close?”

  “Yes, it’s about the worse he’ll do. But that doesn’t change the fact that the Judge will throw you in court for contempt.”

  “So, I’m just supposed to sit there and take it?” you sat back in your chair, staring blankly at your lawyer

  “It’s not about sitting there and taking it, (Y/N),” Chris finally spoke up from the back of the room, “it’s about showing that you’re stronger than this, than him, than what he did to you..” You turned around to face Chris, shifting slightly in your chair a few times before speaking as you deliberated what to say.

  “But I’m not..” you finally said, “I might be stronger than him eventually, but now, right now, every time I think about my home, my birthday, that night.. I just want to rip my skin off. I’m allowed to call myself a failure and a disgrace and whatever terrible things I want because I know at the end of the day, no one else feels that way about me. But this DA… he’s got no right to tell me that anything is my fault when he has absolutely no idea how it feels!”

  “GOOD!” your lawyer shouted, excited, “say that. Don’t yell it. But say it. Use it. Tell him how hurt you are and how his client was the bad man who did it to you.”

  “No..” you furrowed your brow, annoyed and a little angry, “I’m not playing the broken baby role. Calling him a bad man like this is some kind of sitcom or Grimm’s fairy tale remake. Not gonna happen. I get it, I’ll be thrown in jail if I yell. So, I won’t yell. But I’m not saying the bad man hurt me and I want him to go away for a long time…” Finally, after about an hour of back and forth, your lawyer and Chris agreed to let you calmly address the court the way that you said you would; they’d run through some scenarios with you, but you weren’t going to play a role

  The next day, you had a session with your counsellor. And for whatever reason, today was rough.

  “I started couples therapy with James… It’s good. The first session was great but.. I don’t know. It’s gone back to me feeling like he’s hiding something,” you started and before she could chime in you continued, “before you say I want him to be, I don’t. I stopped looking at his phone. I started trusting him again. But he’s taking calls in the hallway, he’s in town less than he was before I left, I mean that’s suspicious right?”

  “(Y/N)... don’t spiral. I think you’re just worried about the trial coming up. How’s that going?” she asked lightly and you rolled your eyes

  “My lawyer wants me to play a role. Sweet, little, innocent (Y/N). He wants me to be little red-riding hood and him to be the big bad wolf,” you answered, anger slipping from your mouth, “the perfect story to tie everything up with a perfect little bow…” You hadn’t realized that you were picking at the skin around your fingernails because you were looking around the room, it wasn’t until Samantha, your counsellor, cleared her throat to bring you back

  “It sounds to me like he wants you to have a chance at success during the trial. Sometimes that means playing a role..” she added

  “But I can’t do it”

  “Why not?” she pried, leaning forward ever so slightly

  “Because,” you whispered, “I’m not her anymore.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I used to be that girl. The girl who was too naïve to notice that the world was full of villains and criminals. The girl who saw kindness at every turn and told everyone that ‘maybe you’ll get hurt if you cross the street but maybe you won’t.’ I was the girl who everyone loved to look after because I was so gentle and sweet and loving but knew I was never really in any danger because I didn’t surround myself with villains and criminals,” you went on and Samantha set her notebook aside, “that girl is so far gone, I don’t know who she was anymore. I feel like she died but people still expect me to be her somehow…”

  “Ahh,” she said as if something clicked, “I see.”

  “What?” you replied timidly

  “You’re grieving”

  “I’m what? No. Why would I be grieving?”

  “You said it yourself, the girl you were before your rape is gone. She died that day. You haven’t fully accepted that, I’m not even fully sure if you’ve accepted what happened to you. You’re grieving the loss of the girl who everyone remembers you as. You might get there eventually but right now, you have to let her go.” It seemed like such a weird concept, next thing you knew she was going to be telling you to bury an empty coffin or something. You couldn’t think of anything to say and Samantha noticed you play with your fingers, so she ended the session there.

  The next few days were filled with meetings; lawyer, counsellor, therapist, lawyer, therapist, counsellor, etc. James came to a few of the meetings with the lawyer and tried to respect your privacy for your sessions with Samantha, only occasionally asking questions that he thought were harmless enough.

  “Do you think you’re ready for trial?” he asked, knowing that you could never really be ready

  “I mean I’m prepared I think but I’m… nervous” you weren’t sure if nervous was the right word, but you didn’t want to say scared and create extra anxiety around it.

  “When is it? Next week right?” he called from the bathroom as you were putting on your makeup in the bedroom

  “Next Thursday at like 10 am” you answered as he came into the room and wrapped his arms around your waist, placing his phone on his charger.

  “That’s good, at least we have some time to relax a little,” he stopped for a second at the closet, grabbing a suit for date night, “not relax, just focus on other things. You almost ready?” You turned to him -- hair still in a towel, makeup only on half your face -- and raised your eyebrows.

  “I’ll be ready soonish” you laughed and he told you that, since he was pretty much ready, he was going to watch some T.V. while you continued getting ready. Just as you were putting on your dress, you heard your phone chime and you went to check what it was -- when it turned out to be a text on James phone from “Freddy”

  “I need to talk to you”

   You so wanted to open it and reply but, instead, you called James to let him know that his phone rang, getting an ‘I’ll check it later, hurry up we’re gonna be late,’ in reply. You expected him to look at his phone as soon as he picked it up, or at the very least once you got into the car, and tell you that she texted but he never did. Throughout dinner, you kept trying to bring it up but he just kept starting new subjects and you couldn’t seem to get him to let you start a conversation so, you just tried to enjoy date night and forget you ever saw that message.

  It was finally the day of your trial and, while you had thought you were prepared, you wanted nothing more than to run away and let it play out without you. You waited outside the courtroom for your case to be called, pacing back and forth, fidgeting with your fingers.

  “When are we going to get in there?” you whispered to James and your lawyer, Mr. Young, “I mean really, this waiting is obnoxious!”

  “We’ll be in there soon,” Mr. Young replied, “we have to wait our turn. Sit down, take a breath.” You walked slowly over to the bench to sit down when you saw them. Kayla and Marcus. Hand in hand like nothing had happened, like this wasn’t a nightmare. You hadn’t seen either of them since that night, and you never wanted to see him again, but Kayla was one of your best friends; the fact that she took his side and cut you out of her life hurt you. You locked eyes with her for a few minutes, the colour leaving her face, until he grabbed her hand and pulled her away -- presumably to a room with the DA.

  “I don’t know if I can do this…” you admitted, “is there not an alternative? Like can I not just submit a video testimony or something? So I don’t have to actually be in the room?” James and Mr. Young exchanged glances, both letting out a heavy sigh

  “You could’ve but it’s too late now. We would have to…” Mr. Young began speaking in lawyer terms and your mind wandered.

  “Babe?” James rubbed your arm to bring you back, “I’ll be right behind you. Just look at me if you need to, okay?” You nodded and a rush of people came from the courtroom, meaning that it was time for your case to be called. You wandered to the desk and took a seat, watching as the gallery filled with your family and friends; leaving you to smile nervously at them. When you saw Candace and Cassidy but not Tyler, your heart dropped a little. You thought he was in town already but maybe you got the dates wrong? In the middle of the opening statements, the big wooden doors creaked open and a large crowd came through, attempting to be silent but not doing so well. You noticed Tyler was last to sit down and gave you a sympathetic look before you turned around.

  “Miss (Y/L/N),” please come to the witness stand” the Judge said and you slowly stood up, walking to the stand where the bailiff proceeded with the oath.

  “I, do solemnly, sincerely and truly declare and affirm that the evidence that I shall give shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth,” you recited back and sat down. You looked out at the crowd, finding Kayla’s eyes first and wandered over to Diana, Chris, Tyler and, finally, landing on James when your lawyer began his questioning.

  “(Y/N)” he spoke lightly, gently, as he walked toward you, “can you tell us what happened the night of January 10th?” You looked at him questioningly for a second, wanting to just say the basics but knew that’s not what he was looking for.

  “I was raped.” The DA objected immediately, claiming it was ‘speculation,’ so your lawyer pressed

  “Please, we need you to tell us exactly what happened.” You looked at the people in the gallery, the jury, the DA, even the Judge trying to gather your courage to speak; and then you caught his stare; you took a deep breath and continued.

  “I was getting ready to leave for Scotland in a few days, so my boyfriend and some of my friends threw me a going away/early birthday party. We were all having a great time until Marcus showed up at one of the bars we went to. He and Kayla had broken up and he was trying to get her back and when he couldn’t, he used me to… I don’t know.. take his pain away?” You heard another objection, this time claiming ‘narrative.’

  “(Y/N), I’m sorry but we need details.”

  “It was late, the bars had almost all closed so it was around 1:30 or 2 in the morning when we got back to the apartment I share with my boyfriend. I thought everyone had left for the night but that wasn’t the case apparently because Marcus was hiding in my room. He pushed me onto my mattress and held me down, eventually turning me onto my back and forcing himself into me.” By this point, you were shaking and you weren’t sure how loud your voice was but soon enough you got an ‘inflammatory’ objection and the DA asked to approach the bench; though you didn’t hear what was said, you figured the Judge agreed with the DA as he continued the questioning.

  “So, you were drinking?” he began

  “Yes”

  “Would you say a lot?”

  “I can say there’s no way I could’ve driven home” you said sarcastically before looking at Mr. Young, “Yes. Mr. Smith, I had been drinking a lot that night.”

  “Thank you. So, is it possible that you, being intoxicated, took the advances of my client too far?”

  “The advances of your clie-” you started but cut yourself short when you heard James clear his throat.

  “Is it possible that you willingly gave yourself to my client, only to realize it was wrong because your boyfriend was in the other room? And he was dating your best friend?”

  “Absolutely not!” you wanted to scream at this jerk, and you almost did but the Judge banged her gavel, forcing you to calm down.

  “So, you’ve never flirted with my client? Or anyone other than your boyfriend then?”

  “Excuse me?” you looked over at Mr. Young seeing if he would object, this seemed highly inappropriate, but he did nothing.

  “Have you or have you not flirted with other men besides your boyfriend?”

  “No”

  “So, the hockey players in the audience are non-romantic partners?”

  “That’s correct. They’re friends.”

  “Friends who you spend weeks at a time with in fancy restaurants and secluded cabins?” You were baffled with what he was saying and you had no real idea what he was suggesting until his next question

  “Are you a prostitute Miss (Y/L/N)?” your mouth dropped open and your friends and family began yelling, finally your lawyer objected and the Judge had to yell over everyone for order in the court. Once everyone was settled, you answered the question.

  “No, I am not a prostitute,” you spat out and as he turned his back to walk to his table, you spoke out of turn, not caring about being charged with contempt, “are you really going to blame the victim here?” You heard Mr. Young yell objection and the Judge told him he couldn’t do that so she had to let you speak; the DA not answering, his back still to you.

  “You want the nitty gritty details? Is that what will make you more professional? You want me to tell you every millisecond of that night? Fine. Nothing but the truth right?” you growled as if you were preparing for war, “We had all been drinking. We started at our apartment and moved from bar to bar, never letting each other out of sight. We were smart though, we stayed together in groups, never left our drinks unattended and if we did, we got new ones. The problem came when we were at our last bar, Hudson’s. I went to get a drink at the bar, the one time I had left my group. That’s when your client showed up and tried to get me to explain why Kayla broke up with him. Like I was supposed to know the answer. I left the bar and went back onto the dance floor to be with my friends and your client followed me out there talking over my shoulder to Kayla, his then ex-girlfriend and his now-support system? She took him back to our apartment, he rode in the car with us. They fought on our patio. I thought he left when I was cleaning up but he was hiding in my bedroom. I went into my bedroom to change and he was there, lurking behind the door. He was angry and drunk and he had a knife so I was, understandably, upset. I yelled out but he told me not to. When I finally felt like he was going to drop it, because he put his knife away, he forced a chair under the door knob so it couldn’t be busted open. Then he walked toward me slowly, telling me he “deserved something” that he had waited too long and now he felt he was owed something. Apparently I was that something. He unbuckled his belt and forced me onto the mattress and I kicked and I screamed and I punched and I scratched. I mean I did all the right things. MY GOD I even kept my ankles together so don’t even try to say I couldn’t keep my legs closed. But, you see, no one ever tells you how exhausting doing the right thing is. How exhausting trying to save your own life is. While he gets to hover over me, holding my arms down so I don’t hit him anymore, I get to exhaust myself trying to get away or else it’s my fault because I let it happen right?” You paused there for a second, watching the faces of the jury and the gallery and then you continued, “James finally came to check on me and when he couldn’t get the door open, he got worried and I called out for him. Which was apparently a trigger for your client because your client then turned me over and forced my head into the mattress so I couldn’t breathe. He then tore my underwear off my body and violently shoved his dick inside of me. Nitty gritty enough for you Mr. DA? Or do you want me to tell you how it felt?”

  “ORDER! Miss (Y/L/N), calm yourself down or I will be forced to throw you in jail for contempt. You nodded and continued slowly.

  “He didn’t stop though. He rammed himself into me over and over again, pulling on my body, leaving bruises anywhere and everywhere he could,” tears slowly escaped your eyes, “it was the most unbearable pain I’d ever been in and I just wanted it to stop. When he pulled himself out, I thought it was over but he turned me onto my back and told me he wasn’t finished with me yet. I had no strength left at this point. I couldn’t feel any of my limbs. I was completely numb but he didn’t care. He… started again. He laughed when he was finished. And now, you’re defending him…” The room was dead silent, you caught Tyler’s gaze for a second and a rush of tears fell from your eyes as the DA cleared his throat. “I had always been told that I was this delicate, little flower, or like a porcelain doll who needed to be kept in a box so I didn’t break,” you continued, “honestly, I had never felt more breakable than in that moment. With every push, every forceful thrust into me, I felt as if my whole body was made of glass and I was being shattered one tiny bit at a time and there was nothing I could do…” You wiped your face and waited for whatever would come next.

  “How do you know he was drunk? Did you ask?” was his response to everything you had just said

  “With his face pushed up against me, it was difficult not to smell the alcohol on his breath..” you spat, your tears slowly fading as your anger boiled

  “No further questions, your honour…”

  “Wait..” you stopped the Judge before she continued, “can I just.. ask you something?” Your question directed at the DA and you could tell the Judge was curious so she allowed it.

  “Do you know what it’s like to be a girl?” You asked and he shook his head

  “Obviously not,” you smiled and nodded your head once and began what you really wanted to say -- fearing when you might be taking this too far.

  “I grew up very… protected, but also in a very safe neighborhood. We didn’t lock our doors at night, or in the daytime for that matter. I was able to walk through dark alleys to the other side of the block without worrying about who might be in the shadows, I could walk to school without worrying about being harmed in anyway or about being kidnapped. I was very naïve about the way of the world. Up until I was about 14 years old. Then everyone started telling me I had to be ‘careful.’ I couldn’t wear my PJ's home from a friends house after a sleepover just three doors down. I had to follow strict ‘dress codes’ when I went out shopping with friends. There was no leaving anything unlocked anymore and, even though I was a five minute walk from my school, I had to be driven everyday. The world became split between boys and girls and whatever was good for the boys wasn’t always good for the girls. And the girls couldn’t be distractions for the boys in anyway. It was unthinkable that a boy could know right from wrong then I guess. Anyway, I was walking home from a late choir rehearsal that Chris, my godfather, couldn’t pick me up from. I didn’t think it would be a big deal, so I took a shortcut down an alleyway to get home sooner; it didn’t take long for me to feel like someone was following me. I was less than two minutes from my home and, yet, I felt it was necessary to slowly grab my keys from my backpack and hold them between my fingers and rush home.” You paused for a minute and expected the Judge to tell you to stop and let everyone just move on or you expected the DA to interrupt you and tell you that it was a nice story but not worth anything but everyone stayed quiet.

  “See, there’s things you are forced to deal with as a girl. Whether you want to or not. I don’t want to be scared walking in my neighborhood in the middle of the day. I don’t want to feel like it’s necessary for me to have a Rottweiler or a St. Bernard whenever I go out late at night. I have to make sure I’m surrounded by a crowd of people and that my phone never dies and that my keys are available in an instant. Something your client will never have to deal with, that he’ll never have to fear. I, unlike him, have to hear stories about girls who had the courage to report their rape and then had to sit here on a witness stand and listen to people victim blame them, after they had to tell their stories in explicit details to a room full of strangers. Does that seem fair to you? Because it doesn’t to me. What I’ve realized during this whole ordeal is that every person who is raped is raped three times. Once when it actually happens, again during the exams and once more if they go to court. You think you’re protecting a boy who made a mistake but all you’re doing is perpetuating the idea that boys will be boys and they don’t know any better. I hope, with everything I have, that you don’t have a daughter. And if you do, I hope that she doesn’t know you’re defending a rapist. Because I can guarantee, that if she is ever assaulted, she will never come to you. She will never trust you with this. She will never know how you’ll respond to her. She will never ask you to protect her because you didn’t defend the other girls like her, like me, instead you defended the person who did it to her.” That seemed to trigger him and he stopped you to finally speak.

  “You still haven’t offered any concrete proof that the rape actually occurred..” he faltered on the word and you watched as Mr. Young stood up to call an objection.

  “We do have proof, your honour,” he said, pulling out a small remote and looking at you, “I was asked not to show these images because Miss (Y/L/N) thought her words would be enough. But, Mr. Smith, if you want proof of what your client did, I can show you. But I ask permission from you, (Y/N), first.” He stood in front of you, waiting for your answer, showing concern and sympathy for you. Those pictures weren’t going to make anyone puke, other than you because you knew what they came from and you would be able to taste the night again, but you weren’t sure if you could bare to have Tyler or Chris see them.

  “Miss (Y/L/N)? What is your answer?” the Judge urged

  “Do you consent to me showing these photos (Y/N)?” your lawyer said gently and you knew that he was being very particular with his words. You nodded and as the first image flashed on screen you looked down at your lap, listening to Mr. Young describe what the jury was seeing. When you finally raised your head, you saw Candace cover her mouth and Diana let out a few tears, while Lucy looked like her head was going to explode from rage and you could tell how uncomfortable Chris was. It wasn’t until you saw Tyler staring at you, not the screen, that you looked at what was being shown.

  “If this is not proof, from an official Sexual Assault Evidence Collection Kit, than I don’t know what is…” Mr. Young said finally, leaving an image of your bruised body on the screen. You looked the girl on the screen in the eyes, staring at her to see if you could see the change in her; you saw it right away and you laughed to yourself. Her eyes were hollow, the sparkle that was there before was gone, her body that she so frequently tried to conceal was covered in bruises and she had no reason to hide it anymore. None of that really shocked you, from your sessions with Samantha, you knew this was typical. What shocked you was that, for the first time in eight months, you noticed that you weren’t smiling. You always smiled, regardless of what was happening in your messed up world, you always had a smile to share. That’s what Diana had said in that video so long ago. You didn’t mean to say it out loud, but there was no taking it back once it was out there.

  “He took my smile away…”

  “Excuse me?” Mr. Smith said suddenly and you cleared your throat before looking at the Judge. She motioned for you to continue, so you did.

  “Sorry, I.. uhm.. it’s been so long since I’ve looked at these pictures. Since I’ve even looked at my own body and I just noticed I’m not smiling,” you saw the Judge raise her eyebrows slowly as if that meant something; of course you wouldn’t be smiling you weirdo, “I just mean.. If you had met me before this happened, talked to the people in my life, there would be one thing that you could say about me without any uncertainty; I was always happy. I loved everything and everyone. Because I believed that people had the capacity to be good, even when they did awful things. And then this happened and that kind of… went away I guess. I can’t remember the last time I really smiled, like honestly smiled, I can remember all the times that I’ve cried in the last eight months. All the times that I’ve half-heartedly laughed at something. All the times I flinched from anyone’s touch, but not when I last smiled. He took my smile away. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to talk out of turn again but I just.. realized it.” With that, you were asked to step down from the stand and the Judge called for a short, 20 minute recess to allow the jury to discuss and you followed your lawyer to an empty room to discuss what happened with Chris and James following close behind

  “(Y/N)...” he sighed, “what did I say?”

  “I was being attacked by the fucking DA!” you shouted, “I’m sorry if I felt the need to defend myself when you wouldn’t”

  “He wasn’t attacking you, he was doing his job, as was I,” he stated, “you’re lucky we have a sympathetic Judge.” He was probably right but, to be fair, the DA accused you of being a prostitute and he was victim blaming.

  “I’m sorry okay but my testimony wasn’t going to get us, me, anywhere if I sat there and let him call me a prostitute and tell me I asked for it!” you said firmly, sitting down.

  “How do we know that the jury is going to sympathize with you after everything you said up there? After how many times you spoke out of turn for I don’t even know how many rants. I can assure you they were not all necessary..”

  “Maybe not but I made them feel something. I didn’t even want to be here in the first place. I would’ve been fine to never think about this again but everyone was so goddamn determined to get justice that they took this to court. Can I just let you in on a little secret?” you turned to James, motioning for him to come closer, “there is no justice. Whether I had been a silent little lamb up there or not, he will get a maximum of six months, if we’re lucky, because the system is broken. Overcrowding, “good behaviour,” call it what you want. He’s a middle class white guy with no priors. This is his first offence and I’m over 18. The law is not on my side here. So, I’m sorry if I felt it was necessary to speak out of turn a few times.”

  “(Y/N),” Chris started, you expected him to try and reason with you when he sat down slowly, “sweetheart, I am so angry about what happened. Seeing those pictures, hearing you get so angry on the stand. I wanted to rip his head off, honestly, I did. Whatever happens, I’ll be here for you. I’m always here for you okay. We can do whatever you want, we can cancel everything, go h--”

  “Absolutely not!” Mr. Young started, “if you leave now, if you drop the charges, they’ll claim it was a false allegation and you could be charged with perjury”

  “She told her truth! Let the Judge make whatever decision she’s going to make but, so help me, if you force this girl to go back into that room and sit near that parasite I will sue you for emotional trauma” Chris shouted at Mr. Young as James guided you out to the hallway.

  “What do you wanna do babe?” he asked as he rubbed your arms, “do you want to take off? Go back in? Whatever you want we’ll do.” You weren’t sure what you wanted to do, you thought it would be over after the recess, so it would be better just to go in and get it over with but then you thought what if it gets postponed because the jury can’t make up its mind or the Judge wants some time to think it over. What if it goes to an appeal? You were about to tell James that you really weren’t sure when you saw Kayla walking to the water fountain a few feet from you; you nodded to James in her direction and he looked over his shoulder.

  “Should I talk to her?” you asked

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, (Y/N),” you nodded but she spotted the two of you and walked toward you.

  “James,” she spoke and then turned to you, a vengeful look in her eyes and you knew what was coming, “(Y/N), I just want you to know I forgive you. And I can see that James has too. I would appreciate it, however, if you dropped this charade. You’re ruining my poor Marcus’ reputation. He’ll have to be put on the sex offenders list, do you realize what that will do to him? To his chances of finding a job? It’s okay that the two of you slept together, I get it. You were drunk, he was drunk, you were both excited about Scotland and these things happen. But he didn’t rape you and it’s not good that you’re so fixated on the idea that he did…”

  “Oh my god,” you gasped, “Is that what he told you? Did he brainwash you into believing that this was all consensual? Kayla, please tell me this isn’t what you really believe?”

  “Drop the charges, (Y/N), or we’ll counter sue for defamation of character.”

  “Defamation o-, Kayla, he has no character to defame!” you silently shouted, Tyler coming up behind you and James to calm you down

  “If you don’t drop the charges, our lawyer will put you through the ringer. It’s your choice, (Y/N). Tyler, nice to see you…” You were left breathless as she walked away, mouth agape and eyes beginning to tear.

  “What just happened?” you whispered to James and Tyler as they stood in front of you

  “Are you okay?” Tyler asked, placing his hand gently on your shoulder, which James immediately removed by curbing you toward the courtroom door

  “What do you say we finish this?” he said, kissing your temple and you nodded but asked for just a minute with Tyler.

  “Okay but recess is almost over, so don’t be too long,” he replied, watching Tyler intently as he walked away.

  “Thank you for coming Ty,” you smiled softly, “it means a lot. I’m just sorry you had to see and hear everything. I know it’s a lot..”

  “It was a lot. But I didn’t go through it, you did. You’re so incredibly brave to have gotten up there to share everything. Though, if I’m being honest, I’m surprised he’s still by your side through all of this” Tyler chided, gesturing in James’ direction

  “Not now, Ty, please,” you pleaded, peering up at him, “we’re trying to work through everything. We’re going to therapy and everything.” He gave you a sarcastic ‘oh really’ in response and you rolled your eyes.

  “If you’re happy, I’m happy. But I’m cautious” he joked, pulling you in for a quick hug but you pulled away almost immediately

  “Stop,” you whispered and he looked confused, “I.. I just can’t, not here. I’m sorry. We should probably get back inside.” You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and smiled weakly at Tyler, he followed you in and squeezed your hand as he sat down in the gallery; letting you know he was there for you. Hugging him in the courthouse wouldn’t have been the worst thing for the case but there were eyes everywhere and any kind of affection from someone who wasn’t James could be misconstrued. But, oh how you wanted to hug Tyler and just melt into him; his touch was one that hadn’t quite scared you away just yet.

  “All rise” the Bailiff called out

  “You may be seated,” the Judge said before taking her seat, “before the jury shares their verdict with the court, is there anything anyone would like to add?” She looked at you sharply, expecting you to speak up but you just shook your head and stayed silent. Shortly after, Marcus spoke up

  “Your honour, if I may”

  “Go on, then”

  “I know you’ve heard a lot of things today,” Marcus turned to the jury and tried to be charming, “a lot of stories have been told by Miss (Y/L/N) and I fear that she may have changed her mind later that night and was too embarrassed to tell her boyfriend. I just wanted to tell you that, although I may not have to carry my keys in between my fingers every night, doesn’t mean that I don’t face difficulties in this world as well. We all deserve a chance…” He said as he sat down. What a douche, you thought to yourself as you rolled your eyes and hoped that the jury didn’t buy his bullshit.

  “Thank you Mr. Sheppard,” the Judge acknowledged his statement, “Ms. Foreperson, have you a verdict on this case?”

  “We do, your honour,” a woman in a dark purple dress spoke

  “What is your verdict?”

  “We the jury find the defendant, Marcus Sheppard, guilty of one count of sexual assault,” the foreperson looked at you with a sad look in her eyes, forcing your smile to fade, as she continued to speak, “however, your honour, the jury has also requested that Mr. Sheppard be eligible for early release due to this being his first offence.”

  “What does that mean?” you asked your lawyer, “early release? He hasn’t even been in jail yet”

  “If the Judge grants early release, he’ll likely get half of the usual sentence and then will be eligible for good behaviour…” he whispered to you

  “So, like what two months?” All you got in return was a sigh and he turned back to the jury.

  “Alright, thank you Ms. Foreperson,” the Judge broke the tension, “in light of this request, I am postponing this sentencing until November 14th. Two weeks. That should give some clarity.” With the sudden whack of her gavel, she rose and walked away, leaving you speechless and Marcus free to walk another day. It took everything in your body not to throw a chair at his smirking face but you were able to control yourself as your friends came up to you to share their support.

  “We should go over some stuff, Miss (Y/L/N), after Halloween. It will help us prepare for whatever happens at the sentencing” Mr. Young insisted, walking out of the courtroom and you nodded, sending him a small goodbye on his way out.

  “We should probably get going. We’ve got practice in the morning and the game...” Jamie said, “Segs?”

  “Yeah, one sec, I’ll meet you guys out there” he responded and asked you to speak in private, catching James off guard

  “She’s exhausted,” James countered, “we’re just going to head home.”

  “I’ll be out to the car in a minute, James, okay and then we can go home” he gave you a quick kiss on the forehead and left you and Tyler alone.

  “I’m sorry this didn’t go the way you wanted or expected it to,” Tyler started, “but they found him guilty.. so that’s a start right?”

  “Honestly, I’m not even sure what I was expecting. I thought this was going to be it. I thought we’d do this and it would be over after this. But now I have to come back in two weeks?” you huffed, “not exactly what I had planned.”

  “So, we’re leaving after the game tomorrow night. I know you and James are on this ‘fix the relationship’ kick but you should come out for a drink with us, both of you.” You wanted to say yes but the timing was wrong and you knew James wasn’t going to let it play out like a regular night out.

  “Ty…” you pulled him in for a hug and he followed your lead, “I can’t. We can’t. He would be too on edge and it wouldn’t be good for us right now.” He pulled away from the hug suddenly and stepped even further back from you; his face so contorted, you weren’t sure what was going to come out of his mouth.

  “Fine.” he said harshly

  “Tyler…”

  “No, you want to be with the guy who cheated on you after you went through all that, fine. That’s your choice. I’m not going to be the guy who tells you to leave your boyfriend. But you want us to be friends,” he gestured between the two of you, “I can’t have you looking over your shoulder for him, worrying about his reaction about everything even though we both know what kind of guy he is. I’m here for you if you need me, you know that, but I’m done waiting for you to wake the fuck up about this guy.”

  “Tyler!” you yelled out as he stomped away. You were shocked by this reaction. He’d never quite snapped at you like this and you were confused why this set him off now, instead of months ago. Even though you knew you had to confront his cheating, and that text message he still hadn’t admitted to, you loved James. You wanted to love him again the way you used to and Tyler would just cause unnecessary drama between the two of you. It hurt that he would get so angry at you but you also couldn’t argue with him.

  All you could hope was that this wasn’t the end of you and Tyler.

[zforhire]

Beauty Blogger AU

Obikin Week 2018, Day 8

Prompt: Free Day

 Inspired by an anon prompt on the @subskywalker blog, this is a snippet of a modern AU where Anakin is well-known beauty blogger, and he and Obi-Wan meet through a dating site.  Obi-Wan is Ahsoka’s guardian and she’s a big fan of Anakin’s how-to vids.  I’d like to develop this into something longer; this is what I have so far.

They were waiting for dessert when Anakin dropped the question.  “So, how long have you been watching my videos, Ben?”  He choked on his water, sputtering, and Anakin chuckled as he patted his back.  “Sorry, just,” crooking a finger and trailing it down Ben’s cheek, he offered a half-smile, “I’d recognize my contour anywhere.  You might as well have my name written on your face.”

 Ben had the grace to look a bit sheepish.  “It’s my daughter, actually.”  He took another drink, a long swallow to smooth his throat.  “She’s been one of your ‘angels’ for a while now, and she insisted she help me get ready for tonight.”  

 “Is that so?”  The moment of embarrassment was worth it for the amusement that danced in Anakin’s eyes. “Because it’s me?”

 It took a moment for Ben to realize what he meant.  “Oh, no!”  A vigorous shake of his head, “I can only imagine what she might have pulled if she knew, and I’d no interest in turning our first date into a sitcom episode.”  Grinning at Anakin’s laughter, “No, I didn’t tell her yet.”

 A charming smile, turned first on their waitress as she brought their selections, and then on Ben.  “Well, you can tell her she did a great job.”

 Ben felt heat creep into his face, and directed his attention down to his cake, the same one that Anakin had chosen.  Belatedly he realized he should have gone with a different choice; then he’d have an excuse to offer to share.  He’d taken a few bites before allowing himself to boast about his girl.   “Well, it’s nothing compared to what she does with herself.  Lately she’s been taking her eyebrows—” spearing a strawberry from atop the confection, he gestured with it before popping it into his mouth, “clean off, and drawing in patterns instead.”

 Anakin’s eyes widened in interested surprise, “Bold.”  He scraped some of the decorative sauce up from the plate with his fork and sucked it clean; Ben tried not to stare at the bright stain of color it left on his lips, or his tongue as he licked it away.  “Do you have any pictures?”

 Feigning offense at the question, “Of course!”  As Ben pulled out his phone and pulled up the right album he sent up a brief thanks that Ahsoka had already come up over the course of their chatting; he trusted he wouldn’t have to explain her age or adoption again.  “Here are some of her more recent experiments.” He angled the phone toward his date, found himself pleasantly surprised when Anakin scooted his chair closer, laying his arm across the back of Ben’s to get a better look.

 “Oh, hey—” His expression immediately lit with recognition, mouth curving into a smile, “I featured her once.  I think it was glitter week?”  Their separate checks arrived as he scrolled through the album, nodding appreciatively at the various looks she had designed, only turning from the phone to retrieve cash from his wallet.  

 “It made her whole week.”  Ben tucked his credit card in with his check, hoping after the fact that she wouldn’t see the disclosure as over-sharing.  “She’d be thrilled to know you remembered her.”

 “It was a great look!”  He waited until the waitress had collected their payments before asking, “Do you think she’d like an autograph?”

 “Well, she does call watching your videos ‘learning from the master.’” He couldn’t help smiling, “I think she’d love one.”  Anakin slanted another grin his way before turning to rifle through the pockets of his coat.  Chuckling softly, he shared the sudden realization, “Although it will completely blow my cover.”

 Anakin swiveled back around, prize held in his hand, and winked.  “Well, had to happen sometime.”  Then, tapping at Ben’s phone, “Mind if I borrow this real quick?”  Shrugging, Ben agreed.

 He was not prepared for Anakin to start applying lipstick.  

 Using the phone’s camera in place of a mirror, he parted his lips and followed their curves with practiced ease.  The color looked like some kind of deep wine shade and was, Ben thought, distractingly shiny.  He didn’t notice that his card had been returned to him until Anakin was stealing the pen he was meant to sign the receipt with.  The younger man claimed an unused napkin and began scrawling, looking up briefly, “How do you spell her name?”

 Ben recited the proper spelling and took the pen when Anakin offered it, nearly dropping it as he watched the other man part his lips again before pressing them to the napkin.  He forced himself to focus on the newly returned receipt, filling out the tip and signing it.  When he had finished, Anakin was absently waving the napkin, helping it dry.  “All set, then?”  Laying it back on the table, Anakin slid the napkin over to Ben.

 “I think so—oh…”  Smiling fondly, he took in the brief message, the little wings Anakin had drawn off the first ‘A’ in Ahsoka’s name, the perfect lip-print by his signature. “She’ll be over the moon for this.”

 “I aim to please.”  The lipstick only made Anakin’s smile more eye-catching, and Ben felt himself unexpectedly flushing again.  “Walk you to your car?”

 Not particularly trusting his voice, Ben only nodded.

 The parking lot wasn’t that big so, all too soon, they found themselves standing beside Ben’s blue hatchback; he found himself feeling nervous as he had been as a teenager standing on his front porch.  “So.  This was…” Sudden nerves made him doubt himself.  What if Anakin hadn’t enjoyed it as much as he had?

 The man in question leaned back against the car, long legs crossed at the ankle, his dark lips curling into a warm smile.  “A really good time?”

 His relief was immediate, breath rushing out of him in a grateful sigh. “Exactly.”  Ben’s smile was quick but wide, briefly showing off his teeth. “And, ah—” he held up the napkin he was bringing home for Ahsoka, “thanks again, for this.”

 Anakin ducked his head, waving him off.  “Don’t mention it.”  Then, looking up at him through his lashes, “Can I text you tomorrow?”

 “Yes,” another small, almost shy, flash of his teeth, “I’d like that.”  Ben searched his mind for some nugget of inspiration that could keep their conversation going but came up frustratingly dry. Resigning himself, he nodded pleasantly. "Well, good night.”

 “Ben…”

 Catching his arm as he turned toward the driver’s door, Anakin allowed his loose grip to slide down to Ben’s wrist before pushing up off the car to crowd Ben against it instead.  Barely a breath apart, there was a playful tilt to his lips.  “Since your cover’s already blown anyway…” was his only warning before he closed the distance between them.  

 His lips were as plush as they’d looked as they moved against Ben’s, not quite chaste and slick from their color.  When the kiss broke Ben wilted forward, a breath shivering out of him as he absently nuzzled Anakin’s cheek; a swipe of his tongue revealed a hint of berry flavor, though whether it was from the lipstick or dessert Ben couldn’t be sure. He was shocked to find his free hand fisted in the front of Anakin’s jacket and he forced himself to let go, suddenly glad for the cool metal at his back.  Similarly, he hadn’t noticed Anakin cradling his cheek until the warmth of it was gone.  Even after clearing his throat, his voice came out in a warm husk, “Tomorrow?”

 Anakin flashed another playful smile as he stepped back. “Count on it.”    

[tacticalgrandma]

“What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” dealer's choice but make it platonic

God, this is more about the tone of the prompt than anything else, because I fixated on that “platonic” specification and kind of went from there. So here’s some Old Soldiers shit with aroace Ana and trans Gabe and kind of an asshole Jack.

Torbjörn’s the one who starts it, because Torbjörn always has to stick his nose in her business. Ana’s coming from a meeting in downtown Zurich, and texts Jack to let him know she’ll be late for their morning briefing. He texts her back with a thumbs up emoji, a coffee emoji, and a question mark. She sighs and asks the driver if they can make a stop along the way.

“Typical,” Torbjörn grumbles when she rushes in, handing Jack his skim macchiato as she takes her seat. “You only bothered to ask your work husband if he wanted any.”

She and Jack both freeze. The other people at the table may as well, but she doesn’t think she’s really processing any new sensory input. The next thing she registers is Jack nearly collapsing on himself laughing.

“Holy shit,” he says, as he’s catching his breath. “Torb’s right. You’re my work wife.”

She scowls and shoots Torbjörn a poisonous look. He looks appropriately remorseful, but the damage is done. “He was the only one who asked me for coffee,” she says. “And he is not my work husband.”

“You two kind of are work-married,” Reinhardt says. She glares at him as well but he’s practiced at playing oblivious and just beams back at her. “You two work together all the time, you’re such good friends, you know each other so well– did you even need to ask for his coffee order?”

“You’ve made your point,” Ana snaps.

“Hey. Reinhardt.” Jack seems to have found some kind of composure, and is pointing accusatorily across the table. “Stop arguing with my work wife.”

“My apologies,” Reinhardt says, and half-bows with a flourish. Next to him, Dr. Ziegler looks borderline nauseous, which Ana is immensely appreciative of.

“Can we get back to work?” she asks.

“Please,” Ana says. She turns on her holovid and syncs it to the smarttable they’re working on. “Our climatology division has been saying they feel a bit abandoned,” she says, looking over the notes so far. “Can we trying to increase outreach to them?”

“Yeah,” Jack says, flipping through his contacts. “I think we’re just waiting for the winter storms in Antarctica to die down. I’ll forward you all the status updates I get from that team.”

“Okay, good. Thanks.”

“Anything for you, dear.” She glares at him and when he looks completely unabashed, she groans. This is going to be a thing.

-

“So,” Gabriel says. “Congrats on your work marriage.”

Ana rolls her eyes, even though Gabriel’s putting the kettle back on the stove and has his back to her. He’ll know. Just like she knows he’s going to be wearing a shit-eating grin when he turns around.

“I missed my work wedding invitation,” he says as he sits back down at the break room table, grin in question firmly in place. “Or was it a work elopement?” For once, Ana’s grateful that she has to wake up this early. The break room is empty at this hour, so Gabriel doesn’t have an audience for the grand time he’s having with this. Not that it would have mattered. Jack spent all of yesterday playing up their apparent work-marriage, and evidently it’s already made its way to Blackwatch.

“Are you finished?” she asks, stirring her tea absently. He laughs and lifts up his cup of coffee.

“Work l’chaim,” he says, and she rolls her eyes again but clinks her mug. He takes a drink and stares at the wall contemplatively.

“It makes sense, since we’re in different divisions and all,” Gabriel says. “But I can’t help but feel left out. You’d be a grand work wife.”

“And I’d hate to miss out on a work prize like you,” Ana says drily.

“Can I be your work–” Gabriel pauses and frowns. “You know, now that I think about it, it’s pretty sexist that we don’t have an equivalent ‘mistress’ term for other genders.”

“Indeed.”

“‘Mister’ just doesn’t convey the same level of scandal.”

“Truly one of the great injustices of our age.”

“Anyway, can I be your work male-mistress?” He shakes his head. “That sounds like I’m delivering your mail or something, there’s got to be a better way to phrase this–”

“We’re friends,” Ana snaps. “You’re my best friend. We don’t need some stupid sitcom terminology for that.”

Gabriel stops and looks at her carefully. “Is this bothering you?” he asks. “I mean, the work-spouse thing as a whole?”

She sighs. “I don’t know,” she says. “I mean, they’re not wrong. We work together constantly and we’ve been friends forever. And it’s not like they’re even doing some passive aggressive gossipy thing, like what happens most of the time when people start calling out work spouses. Everyone knows Jack’s gay.” Gabriel raises his eyebrows a little and leans back in his chair. Ana narrows her eyes. “What?”

“Everyone knows Jack’s gay,” Gabriel says, in that incredibly irritating tone he takes when he has some piece of intel no one else does. “But not everyone knows you’re ace.”

Ana looks down at her cup. “Yeah? So?” He shrugs.

“I don’t know. Just thought it was significant, that you didn’t bring that up.”

Ana opens her mouth to argue with him. There are some good arguments she could bring up, too. Everyone knows she had a kid and knows about Sam. It wouldn’t make sense for them to just assume she’s ace, unlike with Jack, who has a well-documented history of lackluster attempts at dating illustrious men (and, for that matter, an organization-wide betting pool about whether or not he and Gabriel are still hooking up). She doesn’t hide it, not anymore, but she doesn’t really talk about it too much either. Not like Jack, who has a rainbow flag in the mug he keeps his pens in on his desk. It’s not that ridiculous that she wouldn’t state the obvious.

But Gabriel’s right, is the thing, and that sucks because he can get so smug when he’s right. It bothers her that she’s not afraid of gunfire or towering robots but she’s afraid to put an ace flag anywhere people could see it. It bothers her that everyone knows everything about her relationship with Sam, but Jack and Gabriel are just her friends. It bothers her that “work husband” is the only term she’s heard used that starts to capture how integral they are to her life.

She hasn’t said anything in awhile and Gabriel looks worried. She doesn’t give him enough credit. He wouldn’t gloat over something like this. She trusts him, she loves him, that’s kind of the problem.

“It’s just… weird,” she says, finally. “People don’t get it. And so they try to put what they do get onto it. And it feels cheap and bad.” Gabriel nods.

“I still have older relatives who treat me like I’m crazy,” he says gently. “When I brought Jack home, one of my uncles straight-up asked me if this meant I was done with my ‘phase,’ and if he could call me by my deadname again now.”

Ana cocks her head. “That’s not really the same,” she says. “Gabriel, that’s worse than anything I’ve ever had to deal with with this shit.”

“It’s not the same,” he agrees. “But ‘worse’ or ‘better’ wasn’t really what I was going for. What I meant was, I’ve had to deal with people not getting who you are, and not really wanting to try to.” He reaches his hand over the table, and she sets her mug down and takes it. “And I know Jack doesn’t like to talk about it, because he thinks he’s gotten lucky, and he probably has. But he’s had to deal with shit like this too. It’s not outside our realm of understanding. And the stuff that is, we’ll try to get there, because you do that for us.”

Ana nods slowly. Her eyes feel hot. “Yeah,” she whispers. “Thanks.” Gabriel slides his chair closer to her, sending a metallic shriek through the break room, and hugs her. She buries her head in his shoulder.

“What are work-male-mistresses for?” he says. She jabs him in the side and he laughs.

-

When she’s done with her tea and Gabriel’s done with his coffee, she makes a new cup in Gabriel’s french press. She carries it carefully through the base, and use her foot to knock on Jack’s door.

“Come in,” he yells.

“Get the door for me, please?” she yells back. She only has to wait a moment before Jack’s pulling it open for her.

“Aw, thanks,” he says, taking the mug from her. “You’re the best work wife ever.”

Ana winces as she steps into his office. “Hey, so. I actually wanted to talk to you about that.”

Her back is to Jack, but she knows the slightly panicked expression he has on his face as he closes the door and hurries to the other side of his desk. “Is it bothering you?” he asks. “I thought– you know, it’s all in fun–”

“No, no, I know.” She sits down across from him. The mug of pens with the rainbow flag in it is right in front of her. She takes a deep breath. “It’s just– weird for me sometimes. It makes me feel like everyone assumes I’m straight. And I’m not.”

Jack steeples his fingers in front of his face and doesn’t say anything. “And I know you’re not either!” she adds hurriedly. “I’m not saying they’re not erasing that about you either, you know? Just– like–” She runs her fingers through her hair. “It bothers me, still. I know it’s stupid. But it does.”

“It’s not stupid,” Jack says quietly. He drops his hands. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I’m still sorry,” he says. “I’ll drop it, and ask other people to drop it too.” Ana nods and her anxious, stiff posture eases up a little. Jack takes a pen out of the mug and spins it on the desk aimlessly. “If it helps, given the state of my love life, people don’t really have much cause to assume I’m gay, either.”

He says it in a joking tone, but it’s a feeble one. Ana frowns and tries to remember Jack’s last few dates. There had been the violinist, that had been a year ago, maybe four dates before Jack told her they were both too busy. The ambassador that Jack saw twice and decided that he was too politically risky. Then before that, Gabriel? Is that really it?

Jack’s staring at the pen. She knows that it’s difficult for him, how people see him as a bureaucrat-politician when he still sees himself as a soldier. She struggles with it too, but without quite as many eyes. A lot of the time, she’s just frustrated with his inability to deal with that dissonance– she found away, can’t he? She didn’t think it had gone this deep. But she’d also always thought that Jack would have had a real spouse by now.

“I know you’re lonely,” she says softly. She reaches out her hand and after a moment, he drops the pen and takes it. “And I really want you to find someone. But I’m here. Always will be. Don’t forget that, okay?”

He blinks a little, then nods and smiles. “Okay,” he says. “As long as you don’t, either.”

“Okay,” Ana says. He clears his throat.

“So. I uh, totally get work husband being out, but is there another term you’d want to…?”

Oh God. Jack is looking to her for guidance here and she knows about as much about terminology for this as she does terminology for the gender spectrum of mistresses. Her alarm must be visible though, because Jack just laughs.

“It’s okay,” he says. “It wouldn’t make anything different. Just wanted to know.”

Ana nods, relieved. “I’ll let you and Gabriel know if I come up with anything.”

“So will I,” Jack says. He thinks for a moment. “Partner?” he suggests.

Ana pulls a face. “Maybe. I don’t know. It still feels too romantic, and ‘platonic life partner’ sounds like I’m taking you to court.”

“Hopefully you don’t.” He takes a sip of coffee. “Consort? Comrade?”

“Jack.”

“Life coworker?” She takes a pen from the mug and throws it at his head.

[kassandra-lorelei]

So, new HC this afternoon. Here in the states they had on a special honoring Andrew Lloyd Webber and all I could imagine was Maxwell, Fran and N/CC watching it. The whole show max just whines and claims all the facts are wrong and "that play wasn't really that great" and the whole time N/CC trade whispered jokes and make fun of how dramatic he is behind his back. He's oblivious but Fran hears and keeps supporting her husband while trying not to laugh. Can you write something like this for me?

This was actually an awesome idea, Anon, thank you! Sorry it took a while, I’ve had a busy couple of days between uni, a doctor’s appointment, and my brother moving out of the house. I hope it’s worth it - enjoy!

@missbabcocks1 @holomoriarty

Niles had been finishing up his chores for the evening whenhe saw it – Fran curled up on the living room sofa, her arms wrapped around a largebowl of popcorn, and her eyes fixed on the television screen.

Usually there wouldn’t be anything strange about it. It was,after all, her usual routine when Maxwell and C.C. were busy making importantphone calls to the studio workers in the office, and all of the children were elsewherewith their friends. She’d put her feet up, fetch herself a snack or get him tomake one for her, and watch a rom-com or something until their spouses came in,finally finished from a long day’s work.

But what Fran was currently watching looked like a televisionprogramme – and not one of her usual Netflix bouts.

He approached the back of the sofa, “What are you watching?”

“It’s that NBC special, the one markin’ Andrew LloydWebber’s birthday – oh! I cannot believe that man is seventy and still doin’theatre musicals like he does,” Fran answered, grabbing another handful ofpopcorn. “You’d’ve thought that after the knighthood and then the lordship andall the royalties on top o’ that, he’d decide enough was enough and retire offsomewhere, but no.”

“Hm, I suppose some people just live for what they do,”Niles set down the papers he’d been tidying away and rounded the corner of thesofa to take a seat as well. “Pass the popcorn this way.”

She did so, and he settled into watching along with her. Theprogramme was actually quite interesting and enjoyable, once you got into it.

But still there were more interesting things to the butler,and one of them made herself known with the familiar clicking of heels againstthe hardwood floor. C.C. must have finished her work for the evening, and comedown to join them for an evening of light entertainment.

He smiled up at her as she came in, and she stared back theminute she noticed what was on the screen.

“Why are you watching this?” she asked, slightly incredulous.“You both know how much Maxwell hates Andrew Lloyd Webber!”

Niles shrugged back at his wife, “He’s not here.”

“And we still like the shows,” Fran said. “Besides, Maxwellneeds ta learn that Andrew Lloyd Webber’s successes are not his failures.”

C.C. pulled a thoughtful face and sighed, “You do have apoint, there. We’ve been working in television for nearly twenty years, it’sabout time your husband got over all that pettiness.”

Niles smiled to himself. Both women were, of course, rightabout how Maxwell should have been moving on past his grudge against the otherproducer, but they all knew it wasn’t going to happen. It had been a source ofirritation in the household for so long now, it was practically integral. Andit had lasted longer as a source of tension in the house than his and C.C.’s rivalry,which even they had had to admit was impressive.

It had led to all Andrew Lloyd Webber productions being bannedfrom the new house, back when they’d moved to California just before the startof the Millennium. But C.C. wasn’t exactly trying to turn the television off orover, either. And Niles knew why.

“You like Lloyd Webber musicals as well, and you knowit,” he smirked, and rose to his feet to wind his arms around her waist,crooning into her ear. “Now come; sing once again with me our strange duet, mypower over you grows stronger yet…”

He pulled her back onto the sofa with him, and C.C. let outa soft yelp and a chuckle.

“Well, that’s not creepy at all,” she rolled her eyes,before stroking one finger down his chest. “At least the Phantom only had towear half a mask when he went outside…”

Niles hummed pleasurably, and went to brush his lips up herneck, “Play your cards right, and I won’t wear anything…”

“Hey, hey! I’m tryin’ ta watch!” Fran protested, shifting onthe sofa and taking the popcorn bowl back. “If yer gonna do the whole foreplaything, could ya perhaps go somewhere else where there are no other people?”

C.C. lifted his chin up with two of her fingers, so he’dlook her in the face.

“Later, lover,” she murmured with a wink, before addressingFran louder. “Sorry, Nanny Fine. We’ll watch the show now.”

That seemed to settle Fran, “Thank you.”

They got back into watching, Fran keeping mostly a firm holdon the popcorn bowl and Niles keeping a completely firm hold of C.C., who had swungher legs over his lap and had her body resting against his.

They all appeared to be relaxing, Niles nearly dozing off,when a loud voice started them all back to the present moment.

“What the hell are you three doing?!”

They nearly leapt out of their skins; Niles and C.C. clutchedat each other for dear life, and Fran let out a screech as she just about clungonto the popcorn bowl. They all spun to look over the back of the sofa, heartspounding and catching breath back.

“Maxwell, you just gave us all heart attacks!” C.C. exclaimed.

The other producer marched around to the front of the sofa,his face like thunder.

“Like that’s the biggest crime going on in this room!” he shouted,gesturing wildly between the three of them and the television. “Why are you allgathered in here, watching this…this rubbish about Andrew Lloyd Webber?!”

“Because it’s a good show, with some good showtunesattached!” Fran argued back. “Ya might not like the man, honey, but ya gottagive credit where it’s due!”

Her husband folded his arms in a huff, “I can give creditwhere it’s due, Fran. By letting the show go on without me or any member of myfamily watching.”

Niles cocked his head from side to side, “Well, you achievedmost of that – none of the children are here.”

“Don’t be clever, Niles,” Maxwell was on the verge ofsnapping, and he seated himself heavily. ““Credit where it’s due”! It’s notlike there’s so much to make a fuss over…!”

C.C. raised her eyebrows at Niles, muttering, “And yet herewe are…”

Their employer didn’t hear her snide comment. He was too busycaught up in his own bitter jealousy.

“Half of these ideas came from other people anyway!” he saidin contempt.

That left him open to a lot of fun, for the time being.

Niles copied C.C.’s expression back at her, “Remind me howmany writers the sitcom has…?”

“And the other half aren’t even good!” Maxwell complained.“Remember what a flop Love Never Dies was?”

“Remember before this conversation started?” C.C. askedquietly.

Fran heard that one. Niles saw her try not to laugh as she rubbedher husband’s forearm.

“We all remember, sweetie,” she said reassuringly. “And yersitcom’s been a massive success.”

“As big a success as Cats?” Niles asked his wife, a hint ofirony in his tone.

The corners of C.C.’s mouth were twitching into a smile, “Ifit was, he’d turn it down, too.”

“It has, hasn’t it?” Maxwell was only paying attention toFran still. “He can’t even get a simple stage musical right, I’d like to seeAndrew Lloyd Webber try turning his hand to television!”

That was too good an opportunity to resist. Niles puffed hischest out and ran a hand through his hair to make it wavier, and launched intoa pompous impression.

“I’d like to see Andrew Lloyd Webber turning his hand totelevision…!”

Stifling laughter, C.C. joined in with her own impersonation,“Yes, seeing as the last time he turned his hand, it was to give me thefinger…!”

Fran couldn’t help but let out a splutter of laughter atthat. And it finally caught Maxwell’s attention.

“Is something funny, Fran?” he asked, clearly still verymuch annoyed.

“No, honey, nothin’s funny, nothin’ at all…” she repliedquickly, putting the bowl of popcorn down on the coffee table and taking his hand.“Well, apart from yer sitcom, of course! In fact, we have the boxset upstairs,don’t we? Why don’t we let the rest o’ the country get on with celebratin’Andrew Lloyd Webber, go somewhere else, and watch yer show?”

Something about that perked Maxwell up some, “Really? Youmean it?”

“Of course I mean it! You deserve ta celebrate yer own successes,not get caught up in somebody else’s, and you’re my husband,” Fran squeezed hishand “And both of those things are more important than anything else.”

“Well…alright,” Maxwell nodded, calmer as he stood up. “Ithink the boxset is by the television in our bedroom.”

“Then we’ll go find it,” Fran began to beam, and got to herfeet as well. “We can forget all about this whole Andrew Lloyd Webbernonsense!”

They made their way out of the living area, heading for thestairs. But as her husband went up, Fran turned back, snatching up the popcornand shooting a warning scowl at Niles and C.C..

She pointed first at them, and then at the television, “Youtwo are not funny! And record the rest of that for me!”

Niles pressed a button on the remote for her, “Got it.”

“Thank you!” she called out as she left again.

As she did, the remaining married couple breathed a sigh ofrelief.

Niles let his head rest back against the sofa, “Well, that’sanother crisis averted, for another day.”

C.C. shifted, and relaxed back against him again, “Yeah,until they have the next Andrew Lloyd Webber special.”

“Which hopefully won’t be any time soon,” he put one arm aroundher back. “We’ve, um…got this recording – you want to keep watching?”

His wife looked up at him, a teasing glint in her eye, “Why,what else did you have in mind that we could be doing?”

“What you said about…later,” he growled, using his free handto trace patterns on her thigh.

“Oh, I see…” she grinned. “Maxwell and Nanny Fine went totheir room, so you want us to go to ours and think up our own entertainment?”

In one swift movement, he had her lying flat on her back onthe sofa, and was on his hands and knees over her.

“Who said anything about moving anywhere?” he smirked.

C.C. chuckled, “You’d better hope they’re binge-watchingthat boxset, Butler Boy…”

He slowly leaned down to kiss her, “Like the threat ofpeople walking in’s ever stopped us…”

The special on TV eventually finished, but neither of themnoticed.

Some things in life were just too interesting to bedistracted from.