#hell maybe longer I dunno

[cq-studios]

8 and 11 for the fandom ask game?

8. you hope more people will come to appreciate ___ (a ship, a trope, an episode, etc)

Well, I’m sure pretty much anyone looking at my blog feels will agree when I say the mobile games.

Like I feel like people are too quick to dismiss them as just Gatcha cash grabs (and I understand they were to an extent, but that’s not all they were, you know?) . They both have told really interesting stories (even if KHUX took its time to actually get to it… 300 missions until Ephemer was insane lol) and added so much to the lore and casts. Not only that, but they gave us new content in what otherwise would’ve been painfully long gaps between games.

Just talking about this makes me even more excited for Missing Link.

11. if you're a writer or artist, what fic or piece of art are you proud of making?

As a writer and an artist I’ll answer for both.

For writing I’ll have to say Nameless AU is probably the fic I’m the most proud of at the moment, and, uhh it’s not out yet but just you wait! Once I finish that first chapter it’s all over for you lol

For art I think I’m obligated to say my Safe and Sound PMV. The art is old and not the greatest but it’s honestly a miracle it got finished at all and I’m proud of that.

[sad-fool-i-guess]

Currently fighting back tears because of something stupid

How fun /s

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hello! I loved your last hobie fic btw it was really good!!

Imagine that in hobies universe you died but when he travels to miles universe he sees you alive 😭 and then the reader introduces themselves to him the same way they did in his universe

Keep feeding us with these ATSV fics 😈😈

Have a great day!!!

Thank you for enjoying my Hobie Brown stuff anon cuz he’s been invading my mind recently. I hope to god this is okay for ya. 🦦

Hobie remembered first meeting you as though it were yesterday, you were within an alleyway vandalising the walls with your spray paint, he happened to be passing by when one of your masterpieces caught his eye; it was of him…well him as Spider-Man clocking a cartoonish Osborne -appropriately adorned with devil horns and a tail- in the head with his eyes crossed out in red spray paint as though he were dead.

It got a good chuckle out of him that was for sure and from that alone he knew he had to know you more on a personal level. ‘Whatcha gonna call that?’ He asked aloud, making you jolt, you were pretty sure you had chosen a spot where you weren’t going to get caught by the authorities or those that’d grass you up for expressing how you truly felt about Osborne and all those just like him. You shrugged, looking up at your finished product before looking back over at Hobie, ‘dunno yet,’ you told him truthfully, ‘my working titles are either anarchy incarnate or death to capitalism.’

Hobie hummed in approval, but he thought you could do better, ‘how about anarchy is the death of capitalism?’ He suggested and he couldn’t never forget the light in your eyes upon hearing his working title, that in the midst of your excitement you had grabbed him by the arm, ‘that’s it! That’s what I should call it, you’re a genius man!’ You cried before realising what you did and immediately removed your hand from his arm, ‘sorry about that.’ Hobie dismissed your apology by slinging an arm over your shoulder. ‘Nah, don’t give me that shit, you shouldn’t have to apologise for being yourself for that’s what they want you to do.’

‘I don’t think I ever got your name.’ You said. ‘Hobie. Hobie brown and may I get to know the name of the amazing artist behind this.’ Hobie gestured to the spray painting. ‘Y/n l/n.’ You replied. ‘Well y/n, I think we’re going to get along quite well.’ And you did.

So when your untimely death happened, Hobie felt as though he were Achilles having lost his Patroclus. He cradled your body into his arms even long after you had said your final words, ‘keep fighting the good fight, my little anarchist.’ and much longer after it had already gone cold. You had told him that you were heading out to go spray paint with some people you’ve met and the worst soon came when despite knowing that you didn’t have to, you still went out of your way to act as a distraction so that the rest may escape; which resulted in the way that it did.He knew he should’ve gone with you that day because then maybe you would still be alive and taking the piss out of him for worrying about you but he didn’t, so you weren’t.

Ever since then Hobie had made it his goal to keep fighting for not only his chase but yours as well in your memory. He made you a memorial in the exact same place where you first met, always paying it a visit whenever he felt as though he needed you with him, which has lead him to start talking to your spray pairings as though they were actually you. There was without a shadow of a doubt that you were quite possibly one of the greatest artists to have ever lived, alongside with being an avid inspiration to many to the youths who felt as though they had no way of expressing themselves when feeling slighted by the society they were born in. Hell you even inspired him! So much so that there were a multitude of songs he would perform that depicted a individual with stardust in their eyes, a rebellious fire in their heart and a insatiably need to insight the themes of anarchy within anything they touched.

After your death Hobie kept a good portion of your things; such as your spray cans that would never get used, your clothes that still clung onto the very last essence of you much like he did and even kept the picture you took together after helping you finish a project you had been wanting to pursue for a long while; and who would’ve thought that it would be him, not as Spider-Man, just good old Hobie Brown with the message, ‘keep fighting the good fight, my little anarchist.’

So when he caught himself walking down a alleyway much like he did long ago but this time in a completely new place, he felt as though he was being hit with a wave of de ja vu when his ears picked up on the familiar hissing sound of a spray can. It was like he was back there again and if his memory serves him right, he knew what was to come next the moment he, Gwen and Miles made it into a clearing where they were greeted with the sight of someone’s back as they were deeply engrossed with their own handy work. ‘You’re going to love them Hobie, they’re like super cool and awesome.’ Gwen told him but her words went in one ear and out the next as he stared up at the spray painting of Miles as Spider-Man mid swing; it was beautiful without a doubt but they style in which it was drawn was all too familiar.

‘Whatcha gonna call that?’ Hobie had said without realising it until you jolted before turning to look directly at him, regaining your composure, ‘dunno yet.’ You shrugged and your voice sounded like an echo to the past for Hobie who so desperately wanted to pinch himself in that moment. ‘my working titles are either a bright new era or rising above all expectations.’ Hobie didn’t say anything for he knew he was going to say something that would only scare you away, just because you were another version of his y/n didn’t mean you shared the same memories; to you, he was just another spider-man from another reality, he wasn’t your Hobie despite how he wish he was but he knew he couldn’t put that on you.

He also couldn’t blame you for being alive while his version of you was dead. It wouldn’t be fair on you for being blamed for something that wasn’t your fault to begin with and it wouldn’t be fair on him either, as despite how many times he made himself believe that he has accepted your death, his heart would remind him that he truly hadn’t. You were such a pivotal part of his life that he couldn’t seem to let go of. ‘Hmm, both titles sound cool but I think we can do better.’ Miles pipped up, breaking Hobie out of his headspace that was running rampant with all the best memories you shared together. ‘How about…the bright new era of rising above all expectations?’ Hobie interjected.

You made a face at the suggestion before a wide smile spread across your face as you lost yourself in your excitement and grabbed ahold of his arm like you did when your first met, ‘that’s it! That’s what I should call it! You’re a genius dude, thank you.’ But before you could remove your hand from his arm, Hobie grasped your hand and held it firmly. ‘I don’t believe I told you my name, it’s Hobie by the way.’ Your excused his actions as an exchange of formal greeting and grasped onto his hand with the same about of force. ‘Nice to meet you Hobie, I’m y/n.’

‘I know’ is what Hobie desperately wanted to say but kept it all contained under a strained smile.

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Twenty Years

Summary: Twenty years went by since the last time you saw Joel Miller. You never thought you would see him again, but on the day you finally broke free of David' clutches and saved a girl at the same time, he's just there, standing in front of you. When your daughter and her husband find you, urging you to leave, you offer to take Joel and Ellie with you, knowing you have to talk to him. About the two of you. And about your daughter.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Rating: M

Wordcount: 6k

Warnings: pre + post outbreak, angst, implied smut, implied and mentions of sexual assault (I kept it pretty vague but it is happening, readers discretion is advised), David (needs his own waring, he talks about child brides and what he wants to do to them), religious bullshit, threats, lies about medical conditions, violence, blood, death, Joel not knowing he has another daughter, pregnancy, more angst, infected wounds, medication, some fluff, talking about feelings, talking about dreams, some kisses, cockblock Tommy Miller, happy end

A/N: Dunno what happened but I wrote all of this in the last 6 hours. Please read the warnings, If I forgot something in the warnings please let me know

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Full Masterlist // Joel Miller Masterlist

At one o’clock on the dot the door opened, a stream of dusty sweaty man walking into the diner you were working in. It wasn’t your dream job, but it kept the bills paid while you were in night school to get your business degree.

And… it had its perks. 

Like being located across the street of a huge construction side. The building that had been there before had been demolished almost a year before, making place for a new building. A mall. Or… whatever. It’s not like you cared. 

With the construction side came a lot of workers taking their break in the diner. 

With them came a frequent flow of tips into your pocket. 

With them came Joel Miller. 

You did not even notice him in the beginning which was the biggest fucking mystery to you. Because he was…. He was attractive, broad shoulders, dark hair and eyes. Always wearing a shirt that hugged his chest like a second skin. And then there were the days he was wearing flannel….

The whole construction worker look was really working for you.

Yet it took him calling out one of his co-workers (employees you would learn later, because he was the boss) from flirting on the verge of making you uncomfortable with you, to make you notice him. 

You had insisted on getting him his lunch on the house and he wasn’t having it. At all. You caught his eyes outside when you saw the bills tucked under his mug when you were cleaning the table, making you grin as you shook your head. 

He had winked at you with a boyish smile around his lips and that was all it took to start your crush on Joel Miller. 

Joel Miller who after that always seemed to linger a little longer in the diner to talk to you. To tell you about his daughter. To ask you about you and your life with that southern drawl that made you want to kiss the spot on his cheek that seemed too stubborn to grow any hair.

If you had known back then that only three months later the world as you knew it would end, you maybe wouldn’t have wasted so much time in confessing your feelings to him. 

Or… at all. 

Maybe you would have asked him to stay when in a very drunken mistake you both ended up in your bed, fucking until you couldn’t remember your name just the night before the world fell apart. 

Maybe things would be different for you now.

You blinked a couple of times, getting rid of the mental picture of Joel Miller smirking at you as the door opened. 

“Come on, he’s waiting,” a gruff voice said and you nodded. 

You were at a point where you were asking yourself if doing this just to survive in this hell of a world was worth it. If running, even if you would die trying was the better choice.

Yet you knew you weren’t doing this for your own life. 

You were doing this to protect her. 

And you would keep surviving and protecting her until you took your very last breath.

The day you walked into a group of men in the woods almost ten years after the outbreak you were too desperate for help to question their offer of shelter and food. 

You and your ten year old daughter Hannah had been on the run for months after your settlement had been overrun by infected, only making it out alive barely. With winter being in full swing for the last two weeks you were getting desperate to find a place to stay for you and your daughter. 

Maybe if you wouldn’t have been severely dehydrated and starved you would have seen the way David’s gaze had lingered on Hannah too long to be just out of concern. 

Maybe you could somehow have gotten far away from Silver Lake until it was too late. 

Maybe you wouldn’t have spend the last years feeling like a cheap whore whenever David summoned you to his room to give you absolution for your sins while he rutted into you from behind before throwing you out like trash. 

David, you learned quickly, was a psychotic maniac pedophile who masked his sick intentions with the word of god.

It was a week after you arrived, that he let the facade slip and told you about his true intentions for taking you in.

He wanted Hannah, as his bride. 

You were too stunned to speak as he kept going on that she was the one he had been waiting for and you were so lucky to have birthed the perfect girl that would bring whatever the fuck he needed to make this settlement more powerful and his followers happier. 

When you offered to take her place he only laughed, marking you as impure since you had her out of wedlock and her father was most likely dead. You weren't pure enough to have children with. He wasn’t asking, he would be taking Hannah and if you would trouble him, he would kill you. 

When it became clear that he was serious about this, you made up the lie that Hannah would never be able to give him any children due to a birth defect that left her without ovaries. 

You didn’t think he’d believe you at first, his cold eyes calculating before he hummed, telling you that he did find it odd that a girl in her age did not have her period yet. 

You by then knew that one, he had no idea about the female body and two, he had actually spoken to Hannah about it. 

He had left you in your room for a whole week after that. Alone. Without the opportunity to see your own child. 

And when he came to see you it was only to inform you that Hannah’s condition had been confirmed to be much worse, leaving her unable to perform her wifely duties by his most trusted doctor in town and that he now had to find another use for the two of you. 

Still occupied with the horror of what these people had done to your daughter you were to stunned to speak when he slapped you across the face, before he turned you around and pulled at your pants, his lips against your ear as he towered behind you, informing you that if he couldn’t have the useless cunt of your child, he would have yours as a substitute.

Because that was all a woman was.

A warm cunt.

Something was different today. 

You hadn’t been able to see Hannah, even though every Tuesday you were allowed to visit her and her new husband at their home. 

If Silver Lake had brought anything good since you gotten here, it was Hannah having been put in the house of the town doctor. The doctor, Carl, had been in his early forties when you met first.

You hadn’t been allowed to leave your room at first but David, showing you (or more like his followers) his good grace, had allowed for Hannah to visit you twice a week for an hour under the supervision of the town doctor Carl who she was living with. 

As helpless as you felt in your situation you were so happy that you had Hannah back, crying in your arms. From the day she was born the both of you hadn’t been separated, so of course she was scared and missed you and your heart broke for the mess you put the both of you in. 

You only noticed the man who had brought her here after minutes, your eyes hardening, putting Hannah behind your back to lash out at him for touching your daughter when he told you in quiet harsh whispered words to listen to him. 

That he was the one who confirmed your lies about Hannah’s condition, and that he made them sound so bad that she became uninteresting for David. That he offered to take her and even you in. While he was allowed to take Hannah, you would remain in David’s place for his… needs. Something Carl would work on changing but needing time for it. 

His own daughter had been taken by David when she turned twelve before she just disappeared and he wanted nothing more than to take him down, but it was difficult due to the hierarchy in town and how delusional the towns people were to everything that David told them. 

He was no fighter, he had been here in this resort on vacation with his family when the outbreak happened. He had no immediate way of helping you, but he could help keep Hannah safe. 

And he did. 

Hannah grew into a beautiful young woman, soaking everything up Carl thought to her and his son Jamie. She was doing better stitches than Carl himself when she was only fourteen years old, not that anyone knew about it. 

Women weren’t allowed to learn and work in this town.

But Carl trained his son Jamie to become a doctor, and if Hannah was in the same room? He could not stop her form listening and learning, could he?

The longer you were in Silver Lake, the more freedom you carved for yourself. It took almost two years after you arrived for you to not lash out and be punished for whatever the fuck David and his goons thought you did wrong. 

By now, you were playing the perfect little mistress, shamed by big parts of town when you walked down the street, silently thanked by the woman who had young daughters and now did not have to fear them getting taken once they hit a certain age. 

It was the only way you could endure David’s hands on you. 

Knowing that whenever he was occupied with whatever sick fantasy he had in his head with you, he had less time to lure on little girls. 

You were doing so good you were even allowed to attend the wedding of Hannah and Jamie only last month, the two of them having fallen in love in the last year. 

But today something was different. 

Or maybe you were paranoid because you finally had a way of leaving this place. 

You had to leave this place before David found out about not only your lie, but Carls because Hannah was pregnant.

Some of David’s men had been missing for some days now and David was preoccupied with figuring out what happened, and how to get his very hungry town fed.

Carl had told you early on to not eat any of the meat that was served, telling you that there was a reason people went missing during the winter with a long hard look. Something you and Hannah took to heart, having not eaten a single bit of meat since getting here.

With David being out, there was more time you could spend out of his house, leaving you to finally form a plan to leave this town. Through his connections Carl and two other men who wanted to leave had been able to trade some medical supplies for a car with a settlement a two day walk away. 

You would leave in three days time and you hopped that nothing would happen until then. 

You didn’t count in the very angry girl who ran into you on your way back to your room, blood splattered all over her face, eyes frantic. 

„Let me goooo,“ she yelled at you when you put your hands on her shoulders. 

She couldn’t be older than fourteen. You heard yelling behind her, pulling her with you inside your room. 

„Slow down and shut up, they are gonna hear you,“ you whispered as you slowly closed the door behind you. 

„Who the fuck are you?“ She whispered angrily. 

„Doesn’t matter. Who are you?“

„Doesn’t matter,“ she snapped back. You took her appearance in, your eyes stopping at the cleaver she was gripping in her small hand, blood dripping from it’s blade. 

„Was it David?“ You asked, nodding towards the cleaver.

„No. That sick fuck is somewhere out there. Are you with them?“ She asked, gripping the cleaver tighter. 

„Not out of my own choice,“ you said as you walked past her. You got on your knees next to your bed, carefully getting under one of the floorboards, getting your knife out. 

You heard her footsteps behind you as you reached inside again, getting the couple of baby pictures you had of Hannah out. 

„Is someone with you?“ You asked her as you got back up and walked towards you dresser. 

„My…. Friend. He’s… I don’t know of he’s… no he is… he’s out there,“ she said. 

„Okay,“ you said before you got out of the shitty dress you had to wear and picked some pants and a sweatshirt.

„Sheesh lady,“ she whispered and you looked over your shoulder as she turned her back towards you embarrassed as you changed. You were pulling your boots on when she turned back around.

It was then that you noticed the smoke coming through the slit under the door. 

Fire. 

„Fuck. Okay. We gotta get out of there. You stay behind me, okay? If we run into someone, I will take care of them,“ you said, grabbing your backpack, putting it on. 

„I can take care of myself,“ she said, face determined. 

„And I don’t question that. But I have been stuck here for ten years. If anyone kills these people, it is me,“ you said. 

She looked at you for a long moment, before she nodded. You turned around and searched for one of your lighter jackets you had not planned to take with you, but she was only wearing a shirt and it was still snowing outside. You approached her, holding the jacket out for her to take.

„Give me the cleaver,“ you said as she struggled to get it on. 

She glared at you, before you held up a knife to trade. She sighed before she gave you the cleaver and you watched her put the jacket on before she snapped the knife from your hand. 

You took a deep breath. 

„Okay. Stay behind me. I am gonna get us out of here. Then we’re gonna get my daughter and get our of here,“ you said and her eyebrows went up. 

„You have a daughter?“ She asked surprised, you nodded. 

„Yeah. I have,“ you said before you opened the door. 

When you heard his voice you gestured for the girl to hide behind the bar. 

You had made it to the old tavern, smoke thick inside the room as the fire spread.

„You’re easy to track, Ellie,“ David said and you took one last look at the girl, Ellie, before you got up and stood to your full height, seeing the surprise on David’s face. 

„What are you doing here after everything I did for you?“ He said with narrowed eyes and you laughed. Once. 

„What you did for me? Enlighten me what you did for me apart form raping me whenever you felt like it and threaten to kill my daughter,“ you snarled and he rolled his eyes, before surprise lifted his eyebrows as he noticed the cleaver in your hand. 

„She’s with you,“ he said before he turned away from you, walking towards the door. He reached into his pants pocked and used his keys to look the door before he put them back.

„If you want to get out of here, you gotta come here and get the keys. Either of you,“ he said a little louder and a small smile came to your lips. 

„You think I haven’t waited for my chance to kill you?“ You asked as you approached him. 

„Always knew I should have killed you. But I have a sweet spot for our dear little Hannah. She’s just so…. Innocent. Almost as innocent as Ellie. But she’s far stronger than your little broken girl. Ellie could have been what this town is missing. But she just had to kill all of my best men huh?“ David was still looking for Ellie, only half of his attention on you. 

The fire was making it difficult to breathe. You had to get yourself and the girl out of here. 

„Ah fuck,“ David groaned and you saw Ellie slip past him, her knife stabbing him in his neck before she hid in one of the front booths. 

At this point David's focus was completely on finding Ellie, which you used to you advantage. 

He was about to grab Ellie ankle, the girl screaming when you grabbed a chair and used it to hit him over the back of his head. He grunted, letting go of Ellie who crawled away. He fell and before David could blink you were on top of him punching his face. 

And the fucker just laughed. 

„Go on, kill me. I know you can’t,“ he mocked and you saw red.

The cleaver made contact with his shoulder first, making him groan in pain, eyes wide with surprise. 

„You think I can’t kill you?“ You screamed.

„You think I haven’t dreamed about this since you took me hostage you fucking maniac?“ You felt his blood splash against your face as you brought the clover down again and again and again. 

He was barely breathing by the time you stopped, his eyes wide in what you were sure was fear as he looked at you. 

„I am gonna kill you. And then I am going to take my pregnant daughter away from here,“ you spit down at him, before you brought the cleaver down one last time, killing him for good. 

With shaky fingers you reached inside his pants, searching for the keys.

„Ellie!“ You yelled and the girl came out of hiding, eyes wide with fear as he followed you to the door. You unlocked the door, coughing as fresh air filled your lungs, Ellie running past you. 

Closing your eyes, allowing yourself a second to fill your lungs with fresh air you startled when you heard the girl scream. 

„NO! Don’t fucking touch me!“ She yelled and you snapped your head around, seeing a man with his arms around her, pulling her against his chest. 

You saw red, running towards them.

„Shhhh…. Ellie stop. Stop. It’s me,“ the man said grabbing her face. You slowed down, the cleaver still in your hand.

„He tried to… He tried to….“ Ellie stammered and you closed your eyes, releasing a shaky breath. 

„Oh babygirl. It’s okay. It’s okay now,“ the man said and Ellie sobbed against him as he pulled her even closer. 

It was then that he noticed you standing there, eyes narrowing as he put Ellie behind him. 

When you could see his full face for the first time it was like you forgot how to breathe.

„Joel?“ You whispered in disbelief. He narrowed his eyes, about to approach you when there was a crash in the burning building behind you, making you jump.

„Mom!“ You heard Hannah yell and you turned your head to the side to watching your daughter run towards you, her husband Jamie close behind. 

Her eyes widened as she looked at you, and you had forgotten that you probably looked like straight out of a nightmare with blood all over you.

„Oh my god mom,“ she cried when she reached you, her hands brushing all over your face. 

„Not my blood,“ you mumbled, giving her a small smile before you looked at the man who was standing behind her, still looking at you, as if trying to figure out who you were. 

„We gotta get out of here. They are gonna come after us,“ Jamie said as he reached you, his hand taking Hannah’s. 

It was in that moment that Joel said your name. And everyone turned their heads towards him, Ellie now next to him, one of his arms keeping her to his side. 

His eyes were on you, before he looked at Hannah who had turned around, pistol raised at him. He looked between you and Hannah for what felt like minutes.

You knew what he saw. And you could see the moment he realised who was standing in front of him. 

Hannah was the spitting image of him. She had his eyes and his dark curly hair.

„Joel….“ You said, taking a step towards him but Jamie stopped you while Hannah looked at you with wide eyes. 

„Joel?“ She asked and you looked at her and nodded. She knew who her father was. You had talked about him a lot when she was little. 

„We don’t have time for that. We gotta get out of here,“ Jamie repeated and you looked at him. 

„Where is Carl?“ You asked and Jamie only shook his head lips tight, instant tears filling your eyes. You blinked them away, before you took a deep breath. 

„Okay. Okay. We gotta leave. You can come with us,“ you said towards Ellie and Joel. The latter shaking his head, while Jamie protested. 

„She saved me, Joel,“ Ellie said quietly and he closed his eyes, releasing a long breath. You only looked at Jamie who was about to argue with you when he saw the pleading look Hannah gave him. 

„Okay fine. But we gotta leave. Now.“

Joel hadn’t said more than two sentences towards you, Hannah and Jamie since you made it to the spot Carl had set up two days later. There was supposed to be a car stashed there, but it was gone and Jamie was trying to figure out what to do next. 

Night time was approaching and you were tired.

„We should settle down close to the lake and decide what to do in the morning. No point walking through the night, when we do not have any clue where to go,“ you said. 

„We have to get further away. I can’t risk them coming after us,“ Jamie insisted. 

„Jamie, we lit the whole fucking town on fire two days ago. If anyone survives, do you think they don’t have something better to so than to come after us?“ You snapped, patience wearing thin. 

„Do whatever the fuck you want, but I need to wash off David’s blood. I never want to ever be thinking about him again,“ you said, suddenly irritated as you made your way down to the shore of the small lake you had found. 

„She’s mine isn’t she?“ You were startled by Joel’s voice as you sat at the shore, dressed in fresh clothes you had brought, clean from all the blood and dirt. 

You didn’t turn around to look at him. 

„Yeah,“ you said and you heard him breath in deeply. 

„Fuck,“ he whispered and you couldn’t help but chuckle. You felt him sit down next to you and you risked a glance at him. 

He was older, you were too. 

The last twenty years hadn’t been kind to either of you, but you were pretty sure Joel was even more attractive than back when you met for the first time. 

And he still had that stubborn spot that grew no hair on his cheek. 

But he looked tired. 

You just sat beside each other, watching the sun set behind the lake, the sky turning pink. 

„Never thought I’d see you again,“ he said and you smiled sadly.

„Was’t even sure you’d remember me,“ you said and he scoffed. 

„Really hard to not remember you, darlin’“ he said and you turned your head to look at him fully, giving him a small smile. 

„Likewise, Cowboy,“ you said and he chuckled, before he flinched. 

„You okay?“ You said concerned. 

„Yeah. Got stabbed some days ago by one of these lunatics in town,“ he said, pointing towards his belly. 

„Can I… Can I see?“ You asked. 

He shrugged, before he laid down. As soon as you laid eyes on his wound you knew something was wrong. It was red and irritated. 

„I don’t think that look too good, Joel,“ you said with concern. 

„Survived worse,“ he said as he pulled his shirt down.

„I’m sure you have but….“

„I’m okay. Promise,“ he said. 

You let it go for the moment and looked away from him as he sat himself up with a groan. 

„Was planning to ask you out officially the next day, you know,“ he said after a while and you sighed. 

„I would have said yes,“ you whispered into the darkness as you let your head all against his shoulder.

As it turned out Joel was indeed not okay. 

All of you decided the next day that you would make your way to Jackson, the town Joel had told you about. It would be at least a week by foot and you were not looking forward to being on the road that long with the snow coming down like that. 

He used the time on the road to tell Ellie everything (Hannah is your daughter? No way, she’s way too cool to be your kid) and got to know Hannah. He talked to Jamie and let them tell him their story. He also talked to you, but every time he asked about how you ended up in Silver Lake and what happened after you closed up and walked away from him. 

You weren’t ready to talk about that. You weren’t sure you were ever ready to talk about that. 

It was on day five that Joel had issues waking up. 

You had taken watch over for him when you couldn’t wake him up. You thought he was tired, him having taken watch every night since you left. Now it was morning and you could see that he was sweating. Carefully reaching up you touched his forehead, feeling him burning up. 

„Mom?“ You heard Hannah. 

„He’s burning up,“ you said quietly, not wanting to disturb Ellie who was still sleeping. Hannah came to kneel down beside him, feeling it herself. 

„He got stabbed by the men David sent out to the university last week. He said he was fine…“ you said and she nodded. 

„I have to see the wound,“ she said. You nodded as he got up to her feet, walking over towards Jamie, waking him up. They both came and knelt beside Joel, Jamie already reaching for his fathers backpack he had managed to take, full of medical supplies. 

„Oh shit,“ Hannah said as you had Joel’s belly exposed, her hands also reaching into the backpack to get some supplies. 

It looked worse. Much worse. 

„It’s infected. We gotta open up the stitches. Here, grab this,“ Jamie said towards Hannah. You let the two of them work while you held Joel’s hand. 

Not fifteen minutes later Jamie injected some antibiotics into Joel’s arm while Hannah wrapped his wound. 

„There’s nothing more we can do. He needs rest and medication,“ Jamie said and you nodded. It was then that Ellie woke up, immediately concerned as she saw you all kneeling next to Joel. 

„Is he dead?“ She asked and you shook your head. 

„No. But he needs rest. The stab wound got infected,“ you explained and she sucked her bottom lip in, nervously. 

„Ellie, do you think you can find the way to Jackson to get help?“ You asked.

„No,“ Hannah said, shaking her head. 

„I think I can. We just gotta find the huge lake. It should be close by now. It was three or four days until Jackson once we found the lake,“ Ellie said, ignoring her. 

You nodded. 

„I want you, Hannah and Jamie to get to Jackson as quickly as possible and get help. We need something to help get Joel back to Jackson. I will wait here. Jamie can show me how to tend to the wound and how to get him the antibiotics,“ you said. 

Hannah shook her head. 

„You don’t have any supplies. We can’t just leave you here,“ she said. 

„And you can’t just stay here and wait until he gets better,“ the if he gets better was implied with the way you looked at her. She had tears in her eyes and you gave her a small smile. 

„You have not only yourself to think about anymore, Hannah. You need to get to safety too,“ you reached towards her belly and she released a shuddering breath. 

„Oh shit,“ Ellie said with wide eyes as she realised what you meant and Jamie chuckled. 

„I don’t like this,“ Hannah mumbled. 

„Me neither. But I’ll survive a week out here. We’re close to water, you saw the stream yesterday, I can hunt, and we saw this abandoned cabin not far away from here. We could get back to it, clear it, and I’ll wait for you there until you can get back. It’s gonna be okay,“ you promised. 

You looked at Jamie who nodded at you, and reached for Hannah. 

„We’ll get your Dad some help so you can get to know him,“ he whispered and you smiled at them both. 

„Well let’s fucking go to the lake of death then!“ Ellie said and you all frowned. 

„It’s… It’s a joke. I swear,“ she said.

Joel was in and out of consciousness for four days before he woke up for longer period of times during the day. He told you it was stupid to stay back with I’m and not leave with the kids and you only told him that you weren’t ready to leave him again. 

You feel asleep in his arms that night, allowing yourself to let your guard down, passing out almost immediately when he told you that he got you. That he’d stay awake. 

The following days went buy slowly. You continued taking care of Joel, his wound looking much better. You went hunting, coming back with some rabbits. Joel was on his feet by day six, taking slow walks with you towards the stream where he washed up. 

And you talked. 

You talked about everything that happened since the day you parted. 

You learned about Sarah’s death, holding him as he shed some tears. You learned how he changed, how he did things he was not proud of to keep bis brother safe. You learned about how Ellie who he had been trusted to take to a group called the fireflies slowly brought back his old self.

You in return told him about finding out that you were pregnant while you were in the temporal Austin QZ. About how you gave birth to Hannah the day before the QZ fell, leaving you on the road with a new born until you found a settlement when Hannah was almost a year old close to Denver where you stayed until it was overrun by infected. 

You showed him the few pictures of her as a baby you had, drying his tears as he looked at them. 

You told him in as few words as possible what happened in the years you were at Silver Lake, seeing him angry on your behalf. 

You woke up on the seventh day with his arm around your back, both of your laying on your side, facing each other. He was already looking at you when you opened your eyes, giving you a soft smile. 

And before you could stop yourself you closed the distance between the two of you, pressing your lips against his in a soft kiss. Resting your forehead against his you closed your eyes, one of your hands brushing through his hair. 

„Sometimes I allowed myself to dream what would have become of us if the outbreak hadn’t happened,“ he whispered. 

„And what happened to us in those dreams?“ You asked, opening your eyes. He kissed you again, humming. 

„We would have dated for seven months before I popped the question,“ he said. 

„Why seven months?“ You asked. 

„It’s my lucky number,“ he mumbled and you chuckled. 

„Sarah would have loved you. We would have gotten married, her as the flower girl. We would have gotten a bigger house, cause I’d have you pregnant by the time we were married,“ he said with a small smile. 

„Would have had at least two kids more before you said you were done and I would have gotten the snip so I could still fuck you everywhere without getting you pregnant again,“ he said and kissed your nosed. 

„Lots of baby making in your dreams, Miller,“ you teased and he laughed. 

„I’m only a man, what can I say?“ He shrugged before he kissed you again, deepening the kiss. 

„You still have that piercing down there?“ He mumbled against your lips and a shudder ran down your body. 

„Why don’t you find out?“ You whispered, feeling him smile as one of his hand made their way down your body, his fingertips slipping over your stomach. He was about to push his fingers further down when a noise outside startled you, making you jump up and grab your knife. 

„Joel!“ You heard a voice yell outside and you relaxed. 

„In here, Tommy,“ Joel yelled back, giving you a sheepish expression before the door opened and a man stepped inside, you hadn’t seen in twenty years. 

Tommy lowered his gun as soon as he saw only you and Joel inside the cabin. 

„Well fuck me, I never though I’d ever see the girl my brother was pining over like a teenager twenty years ago ever again,“ he said with a wide smile and you raised your eyebrow, looking at Joel who rolled his eyes, yet his cheeks seemed a little flushed. 

Tommy hugged you tight before he let go and walked over to his brother. They were whispering with each other, when Jamie walked in. 

„You’re okay?“ He asked. 

You nodded, and he hugged you quickly. 

„Left Hannah home. Can you believe it? We get our own house. With running water. Warm Water!“ He said, excited. You laughed, squeezing his shoulder. 

You turned back to Joel, who was now standing next to Tommy. 

„We got a long ride in front of us. Best we get back as quickly as we can,“ Tommy said. 

"Gonna check his injury first, and then we can be on our way,“ Jamie said, already walking over to Joel.

„Can’t believe you’re here. Can’t believe I have another niece,“ Tommy said as you stepped outside with him after you gotten your coat and shoes on. He took your backpack from you, fastening it somewhere to one of the horses staying in front of you. 

„I can’t believe it either,“ you said. 

„Can’t believe Joel’s gonna be a granddad,“ Tommy chuckled and you did too.

„Fuck I’m gonna be a grandma,“ you groaned, feeling every year of your age.

„Also gonna be an aunt. Wife is due in the next two weeks. So we better get the fuck back before she skins me alive,“ he said and you nodded. 

You turned back when you heard Joel and Jaime talk, the latter helping Joel down the stairs. 

„You good to ride?“ Tommy asks his brother. He nodded. 

„Might need a little help getting up on the horse though,“ he said. Tommy nodded, walking over towards the third horse that you were standing in front of. 

„You riding with me?“ Joel asked. 

You nodded. 

„Sure,“ you said. It took some help, but you got on top of the horse, having never been on one before. You didn’t know what to do, already freaking out a little, when Tommy and Jamie helped Joel on the horse behind you, his arms immediately coming around you, pulling you closer. He grabbed the reins, clicking his tongue once and the horse turned around. 

You watched Jamie and Tommy get on their horses too before Tommy rode up on front. 

„Gonna take us at least three days. Let’s get the fuck out of here,“ he said and rode forwards. 

„Ready to go home?“ Joel whispered against your ear. 

You let yourself rest against his shoulder, your head turning up so you could look at him. 

„Haven’t had a home in twenty years,“ you said quietly. 

„You have now,“ he hummed, kissing your temple before he moved the horse, following Tommy. 

Home. 

[frnchgirls]

you're straddling benny, sitting in his lap at home when all of a sudden, he's sniffing you, nose buried in the crook of your neck and darting all over like a mutt rooting around in the dirt. "what's that smell?" he asks, and you stifle a giggle not only because it tickles but also because what the hell is he talking about?

"my perfume?" you answer, blinking innocently and he shakes his head. no, he knows that one, but this is new and different and he really, really likes it. benny pulls away with a huff, right arm still wrapped firmly around your waist. "i dunno, it's fruity." he shrugs, searching your eyes for recognition. "like strawberries, or-"

"cherries?" you interrupt, and he just nods cause shit, maybe he doesn't know his fruits. you purse your lips then confess, "i think it's my chapstick."

"when'd ya start wearin' chapstick?" benny's brows furrow and he takes your chin between his fingers. you say you bought it a few days ago but hadn't tried it on until now and he fuckin' smirks like a kid in an ice-cream parlor being told about the flavor of the week. "gonna let benny have a taste?" he mumbles so softly and leans in, and you can't even utter a 'yes' before his mouth is on yours and he kisses you with purpose.

it only takes him a few seconds to determine that okay, he's definitely buying you more of that, but it takes him much longer to break the contact. "mm, 's so sweet, angel baby. all for me." benny sighs, licking his lips. he has to give you a little tap on the cheek to make sure you're still with him because your eyes are blown wide, and your hair is a little disheveled and he's sorry, but he couldn't help himself.

"ya better be wearin' that again. gonna have to call you my cherry cream pie or somethin' from now on, hm? would ya like that?" he inquires, chuckling with teeth on display, and you're not only too dazed and breathless to answer but also to recognize that benny didn't just add the 'cream' in there for nothin' and boy, are you in for it.

[bokutosbiceps]

don't be afraid to catch feels

eustass kid/monkey d luffy/roronoa zoro/trafalgar d water law/usopp/vinsmoke sanji  x gn!reader | fluff | ~2k words

warnings: some suggestive/18+ themes but nothing explicit

a/n: idk i just really wanted to write so THIS was born !!! how some of the one piece boys realize they have feelings for ya !!  might do this for other fandoms too…actually yeah i will LOL probably if i don’t forget

NOTE: i end them after their confession on PURPOSE so you can choose your own adventure 😆 also there’s more dialogue for luffy’s + usopp’s so they’re a bit longer !!

18+ MDNI | under the cut for length

eustass kid is angry. he's angry that he developed a crush on you. it's so stupid, he thinks. so outta character.

everyone on the victoria punk knows it, including you. and much to kid’s dismay, so does killer. killer talks to him about it everyday, trying to coax a confession out of him in the most gentle yet firm way he can. he wants his captain to be happy, and he knows that you can make him happy, because you already do without knowing it.

kid is completely docile in your presence, and protective. he’s more quiet, because he wants to hear what you have to say. he’s around more, because he wants to keep an eye on you. and maybe because he likes being in your presence.

kid tells (threatens) the rest of his crew that, even though they’re like brothers to him, they’ll be ripped to shreds if any of them so much as glance at you the wrong way.

luckily for you and unluckily for him, you’d heard his very public threat to the kid pirates, save for you. 

you ask kid what the hell all that was about and he simply shrugs, rolling his eyes and trying but failing to keep his cool. you scoff and chuckle at his indignance. you continue to press him till he finally gets annoyed and locks eyes with you, his pupils dilated and his lips spread out into a crazy grin.

“jus’ claiming what’s mine.”

monkey d luffy is seeking out the smartest person he knows, and once he sees her, he’s barreling toward her at lightning speed. hands appear, arising from the wood of the sunny’s deck and forming a net right in front of robin, effectively catching luffy and recoiling him flat onto his butt.

“robin! what was that for?” luffy whines, adjusting his straw hat and tilting it back so that he can look at robin.

“i’d prefer to not be crashed into, captain.” robin shuts her book and gives luffy a gentle, almost maternal smile. “now, what has you so excited?”

luffy is thoughtful as he opts to lay back down on the deck, tilting his straw hat over his face to shield his eyes from the sun. he’s not excited, kinda confused, actually. 

he’s good with his feelings, because he knows his feelings. he's familiar with them. but these feelings—the ones he's been feeling for the past couple of weeks or so—are new. he doesn’t know them, but he wants to learn about them. so here he is, ready to learn with the smartest person he knows.

“well…i wouldn’t call it excited, ya know?” luffy stretches his arms overhead before folding them behind his head. robin chuckles quietly, already aware of luffy’s feelings before he'd even realized them himself.

“what would you call it then?” robin asks patiently.

“like…i dunno! it’s different! it’s different with ‘em…” luffy trails off, sinking back into his thoughts.

“different with who?”

“y/n!” luffy chirps, feeling himself smile at the mention of your name. “i’m really happy they’ve joined the crew!”

“happy like…you’re happy that i joined the crew?” 

“nuh uh, like…i always wanna be near ‘em. i like when they laugh, when they’re happy. their smile’s real nice, too.” luffy pauses. “it’s a lot of fun to be alone with ‘em! makes me feel good…”

robin takes her time explaining what these feelings mean, that that bubbly, queasy feeling in his stomach was not, in fact, indigestion. once robin’s words seep into luffy’s thick, rubber skull, he jumps up off the deck and wraps robin in a tight hug, grinning the whole time and whisper yelling i gotta go tell ‘em!

luffy finds you instantly, almost like his body contains a homing device that always leads to you. you notice way too late that you are in the direct path of the tornado that is luffy, and he tackles you, causing you to fall back. luffy is quick to catch you, stretching an arm around your waist and bringing you to his chest, looking at your face with such intensity you can’t keep your face from heating up.

you’re breathless. due to the adrenaline from almost cracking your skull against the wood of the ship, and from the i’ve got feelings for ya! robin says they're love feelings! do you feel the same? that rushed out of luffy’s mouth.

roronoa zoro is confused. honestly, more confused than he’s ever been in his life. then he’s annoyed. why did he have to develop feelings for a crewmate, let alone you? it would just get in the way of everything. he wants to focus on his dream, on luffy’s dream, and sometimes even on sanji’s dream.

he doesn’t consider himself a particularly selfish person, but he wanted to focus on himself first. 

but then he sees you smile. he hears you laugh. he watches you work and hone your craft, a look of ecstatic determination on your face and the tip of your tongue peeking out between your pursed lips as you focus. suddenly, he realizes it’s really not about him anymore. it’s about you.

he starts to avoid you like the plague—he figures that if he can’t see you, you can’t see him. but he’s oh so wrong. 

when you decide you've had enough of this, you stop zoro, your hand gripping his shoulder and pulling as hard as you can. zoro raises an eyebrow at you and turns around, crossing his arms and waiting for you to explain yourself.

“you’ve been avoiding me.” you state, leaving no room for disagreement or excuses.

“says who?” zoro is very good at playing dumb.

“says me. and luffy.” you huff a bit as you remember your encounter with your captain. how his lips had twisted to the side and how his eyes had shot up to the sky when you’d asked what zoro’s problem was.

“luffy doesn’t know—”

“know why you’ve been avoiding me?” you step closer to zoro, your eyes locked on his and staring into his soul, searching for answers. “i’m sure we’d both love to know.”

zoro scoffs and rolls his eyes, taking a step back from you and turning his face to the sea. the cool ocean breeze feels nice against his burning face. he grimaces as he turns back to you, figuring he might as well get this over with.

“ilikeyou.” zoro mumbles, the words rushing out of his mouth and stopping quickly as they had started.

you shake your head and lean closer to zoro, turning your head to the side so his lips are inches away from your cheek. 

“can you repeat that, please, roronoa?”

“i like you.” zoro says the three, short, quipped words. he’s frowning and his arms are crossed and pulled tightly against his chest, in hopes to dampen the hammering of his heart.

trafalgar d water law is no stranger to stuffing his feelings deep inside of his chest and leaving them there to rot. so he’s wondering why in the fresh hell these annoying feelings for you keep resurfacing. they crawl up his esophagus and reflux into his mouth, leaving a bitter taste behind and making him scowl every time he feels them. 

and to you, it seems as though every time the two of you lock cross paths, he narrows his eyes at you and stalks away. he rarely talks to you anymore, although the conversations you'd shared before were usually very short, yet somehow still meaningful.

you decide to confront him about it, byway of bepo, who happened to know exactly why law was seemingly scarce around you. 

“c-captain? our captain?” bepo stutters, bringing his paw up to his mouth and feigning surprise. “wow! i have no clue why he’d do something like that!”

you frown at bepo. it’s painfully obvious he knows everything about the answer to your question. “spill it, bepo.”

bepo starts to make gestures with his hands and little struggle noises with his mouth. he has no clue how to get out of this one. so he does, indeed, spill it. 

a few minutes later, after bepo was done with his rambling and law’s confession, you approach law with a smug smile on your face.

it doesn’t take a genius to be able to tell why you’re smirking like that, and law immediately pinches the bridge of his nose and tilts his head down.

“that damn bear…”

usopp is sweaty. he’s sweaty, he’s wringing his hands, twirling his hair around his fingers, readjusting his goggles on top of his head. he can’t sit still. he’s been thinking about how on earth to deal with his feelings: does he just shove 'em deep down inside or does he shout 'em from the crow’s nest? he hasn’t had romantic feelings for anyone since he left kaya, and he simply cannot deal. 

“usopp…” nami says softly, touching usopp on the shoulder. he jumps, then flinches at his overreaction to his best friend’s simple and gentle gesture. “can you just tell them, please?”

“n-no! why should i?” usopp frowns at nami and furrows his eyebrows, knowing full well that it’d be best for his health and the crew’s sanity to just come out and tell you.

“if you don’t…” nami grins at him, slowly and mischievously, “i’ll tell them myself.”

usopp immediately springs up from his chosen sulking location and mutters an okay, okay! behind him as he leaves nami. he’s back to sweating, wringing his hands, playing with his hair, and fidgeting with his goggles.

you notice usopp looking particularly dreadful and wait for him to get closer to your position on the deck. you reach out and catch his hand, giving it a light tug so that he’s moving closer to you. he seems so deep in thought that he doesn’t even notice.

“usopp?” you tug on his hand twice, trying to get his attention. usopp meets your gaze and stares at you blankly before shaking his head and becoming aware of the situation. he tries to withdraw his hand from your grip but you’re holding on tightly, and he realizes he’s trapped.

“y/n! fancy seeing you here!” usopp laughs loudly, trying to mask the way that he’s absolutely crumbling and melting.

“what’s on your mind, usopp?”

“you.” usopp covers his mouth with his free hand immediately after the words come out of his mouth. what was he thinking, being so forward? he quickly looks away from you, directing his eyes to the clouds above. “i mean, nami was talking about you earlier. that’s why i’m thinking about you. no other reason!”

a small smile spreads across your lips. “oh, yeah. she told me something super interesting about you earlier today…” you say, drawing out the last few syllables and relishing in the way usopp looks at you in utter horror.

“nami told you that i like you?” he breathes.

“no, but you just did.”

vinsmoke sanji is aware that he actually likes you. that you're not just another pretty face he admires. he’s always known you were gorgeous, the apple of his eye, the object of his affection. you never noticed that it different, though. thinking back on it, you’re glad that you didn’t notice, because you might’ve thought it meant something bad. quite the contrary, in fact.

sanji knows he loves you when he feels calm in your presence. when he’s not acting like a fan boy and when he spends hours talking with you while he cooks or does the dishes or plans the crew's next meal. you’re always around, and yet, he’s never nervous. 

when he really realizes it, though, it’s when he catches a glimpse of nami’s naked silhouette through the crack in the bathroom door and he doesn’t even flinch. not a tingle, not a single palpitation. it’s not you, and his heart knows it, so he’s calm. this is when he knows he has to confess.

“y/n…darling…” sanji says, grasping your hands in his own and looking you in the eyes. “i have to tell you something—something i’ve never told anyone before.”

you look at him, an eyebrow raised in skeptical curiosity. sanji looks worried, and he almost never looks worried. your mind is going a mile a minute, your brain flipping through pages and pages of things he could possibly say to you within the next minute. because of this, you miss the way sanji squeezes your hands, and the way he sucks in a deep breath.

“i’m in love with you.”

taglist: @usoppsstar (i literally can’t remember anyone else rn lolol, i just knew i wanted to surprise ya coco) | @kingofthe-egirls | @pileofmush | @anemptypuddingcup

[suppose-i-was-worm]

Like A Lamb

**Idea taken from @nerdpoe's post- What the hell is this "Infinite Realms"?**

John Constantine would never call himself a kind man, much less a good man, but the kid at the corner table of this fast food restaurant was making him want to be both.

Not that John’s kindness would really help the kid, in the long run.

He’d seen so many things in all the time he’d been alive- wondrous and horrific in equal measure, but this boy- this teenager, barely out of childhood, was probably the most heart-breaking.

John had known sacrifices- marked by both men and demons. He’d seen the crumpled bodies after the fact, and sometimes he’d been able to save them beforehand. None of them were like this boy. Marked like a sacrificial lamb down to his bones by the universe- an inevitable end.

The teen was the beginning and the end of worlds- his death would shake the foundations of all that was, could be, and is. Time would stutter to a stop before restarting with a different beat, and John could do nothing to delay or stop what was coming.

How in the world could this kid still smile and laugh with his friends? How could he not feel the weight of an entire reality on his shoulders? If John, sitting across a dining room from him, could feel the pressure, why wasn’t the boy buckling under it?

John’s phone alerted him to a text from Zatanna- he was needed by the JLD.

With a sigh, he fished out the strongest protection amulet he had on him. It wouldn’t save the teen, but maybe it would make the rest of his life a little easier.

The kid looked up at him as he approached, all smiles and young innocence. John Constantine thrust the amulet into his hand and then turned, stalking out of the Nasty Burger.

He needed to tell the Justice League. Amity Park needed protection- there was a kid there whose death would change the world.

~~~

Danny flipped the little charm around in his hands, trying to figure it out. The sad trenchcoat man had handed it to him before leaving, and he had no idea why.

“What do you think it is, Danny?”

He shrugged. For some reason he didn’t want to hand it over to Sam for her to inspect it.

“Dunno. It feels important, though. I might take it to Pandora- she’s been teaching me a bit of magic stuff, so she can probably parse it out.”

For some reason, Danny knew he would recognize that man again if he ever saw him, despite only having looked at him for a moment. Something in his core rumbled contently as he tucked the amulet carefully into the back of his phone case.

The next few weeks, Danny found himself having suspiciously good luck. The food at home didn’t come to life, ghosts didn’t attack as much, Dash wasn’t a problem at school, and even the Fentons hadn’t been as insistent on catching Phantom.

That was another weird thing- His brain didn’t seem to compute that Jack and Maddie were his mom and dad anymore. He knew he’d been creeping toward that ever since his death, but it was like a switch had been flipped overnight. The Fenton adults no longer registered as his parents.

Finally he had a chance to slip into the Realms and head for Pandora, who took one look at the amulet he held out to her and laughed.

“You have been adopted, young one, and your core accepted.”

“Adopted?”

“Your nature is to protect- it sings in your blood and guides your instincts. An adult offered you protection, a safe haven, and you took them up on it. Had someone your own age done the same, your relationship with them would be vastly different.”

Danny frowned at the charm, but he didn’t put it down- it didn’t even occur to him to get rid of it.

“Why did he- what made him do that?”

Pandora ruffled his hair.

“He saw someone who needed protecting, I assume, and acted as he ought.”

~~~

“Bats, I don’t know what the Infinite Realms are. Yes, I know they exist. I just don’t know when they started to exist, and when my knowledge of the afterlife became outdated.”

Batman glared, and John rolled his eyes at the other man.

“Magic shit happens all the time. Zatanna can tell you just as well as I can that the Realms didn’t exist a year ago- and also that they’ve existed for millenia.”

“I’ve found a summoning spell for the king of the realms, but it requires a magic user. Zatanna is off-planet, so you’re up.”

John looked over at the speaker, Red Robin, whose slight form and dark hair made him think of the boy he’d left to die.

He’d thought of the boy more often than not- any research into the kind of sacrifice that would have so much power came to a dead end, and John Constantine hated that there was really and truly nothing he could do for the kid.

Maybe this Infinite Realms person might know something?

“Fine. What are the details?”

Red Robin perked up and handed over a heavy tome.

“Batman and I already set up the ritual space in the conference room, and a few other heroes are there to help out if the king is hostile.”

“Of course you have. Let’s go, then.”

The two bats swept off down the hallway, and John followed behind, studying the spell he would need to cast. It was fairly simple, and luckily wouldn’t require blood. He hated the ones that required blood.

As he stood over the sigils and spoke the ritual spells, the floor inside the protective circle began to writhe and bubble a toxic neon green. It was all John could do to stand straight as a rush of air spilled from the portal into the wide room, bringing with it the heavy taste of caution.

The Justice League took a step back as the first clawed hand reached out from the green, white and stretched beyond humanity. It scrabbled for purchase before finding it and pulling.

The creature that exited the swirling mass was something John had never seen before. If the situation wasn’t so tense, he might describe the creature as catlike, with a black body and white legs, as well as piercing green eyes. The similarities stopped, however, when the inky body flickered and lit up from within with the pinpricks of millions of stars and endless void.

This was a baby god, filled with the dreams of deities long forgotten and fueled by the hope of those still clinging on to life.

Its green eyes swept over the gathered heroes before coming to rest on John, and for a moment he felt as if his tattered soul was being judged by the cosmos.

And then the creature folded in on itself, the tense air around it changing from bitter caution to sweet relief, and John found himself face to face with the teenager from Amity Park.

“Hi.”

The boy sounded winded, but happy, and he reached inside his shirt to pull out a small chain necklace. John’s amulet was hanging off it, obviously well treasured and cared for.

“Did you know that you’re technically my dad now?”

Something on John’s face must have told the boy- the god, the sacrifice both dead and alive- that he was unaware of this fact. The kid shuffled a little, looking sheepishly at the floor.

“You- uh. Unintentionally offered safe haven. And I accepted without realizing what was going on, and- it’s weird. I collected your soul for you! Didn’t bring it with me, but I’ve got the pieces you’re missing.”

“I think you both need to sit down and discuss this.”

Bless Diana.

“Can you leave the circle, young one?”

The teen beamed at Diana and stepped out of the protective circle, smudging the sigils as he did and closing the portal.

“I can, yeah. Pandora says hi, by the way.”

John watched as the boy chattered away about his ghost friends to Diana while she led him to a seat, and then sighed, moving to join them. If he needed help with being a new dad, surely Bats could help, right?

[am3ricanh0rrorwh0re]

To Hell and Back ☆

tate langdon x fem!reader

summary: Tate, your obsessive boyfriend, traps you in the Murder House on Halloween

warnings: nsfw, bondage, gagging, asphyxiation, pills, death, manipulation

a/n: hello, hola, bonjour, marhaban !! this ‘oneshot’ will probably be longer than any other one i’ve written since there’s a lot that goes into it. I know Tate is a crowd favorite (and one of my favorites), so i wanted to make this as descriptive as possible! love you, love you, love you, and i hope you enjoy this oneshot <3

Spirits were real. You knew it for sure. Especially because your obsessive, clingy boyfriend was one. Tate Langdon. He’d been your friend since you moved to the infamous Murder House. You’d never see him leave the house, or come in. One day you had enough and confronted him. Tate hesitantly admitted he wasn’t alive, but you didn’t believe him. That was, until you saw how he died, and the events leading up to his passing…You knew Tate was dangerous, a man that could strike at any moment in time. He could kill you. But that’s what you were drawn to, right?

”Alright honey, we’re leaving. Don’t answer the door,” Your mom chuckled, clinging to your dad as they were both ready to head out to a halloween party.

“Joyce, don’t tell her that. It’s Halloween,” Your dad retorted to your mom. Your mother scoffed, ultimately starting a small debate with your father on the crime rate of LA, especially on Halloween. You crossed your arms, staring up the staircase of the house. A figure swooped by quickly, running across the hallway of the house. You stumbled back subtly, swearing on your life you just saw something move. You parents ignored you, of course. They didn’t much care for the paranormal bullshit rambles of their daughter.

Your parents finally headed out the door. ‘Finally. Some alone time without the constant bickering.’ you thought to yourself. You stood in the doorway of your bedroom, eyeing your walls with great care, wondering what you could do to spice up your boring-ass, half unpacked bedroom.

You felt a presence behind you. Something dark. Something malevolent. A black, latex hand grabbed your waist, the second hand going over your mouth. ‘oh shit. this is how it ends.’ you panicked. The figure pushed you against the wall, keeping its hand clasped over your mouth. It’s free hand pinned your wrists above your head. The figure was complete black latex from head to toe. You whimper into its hand, turning your head as you prepared for the kiss of death. It took its hands off of you and took off the black hood. It was Tate, your boyfriend.

“Hey, Y/n,” He smiled, grabbing your face as he pulled you into a kiss. The moment you saw him, your panic subsided. It was a shitty prank, sure, but it was just Tate. No extreme reason to worry.

“Tate,” You groan with a chuckle after pulling away from the kiss You noticed he was wearing a backpack for some reason. Maybe it had candy? “Why’re you wearing that shit?”

That ‘shit’ that Tate was wearing was an old sex suit that you found when your family first moved into the Murder House. It was sitting in the attic, along with a few other kinky things. Tate was currently rocking it, his toned figure showing out against the tight latex. You leaned into him as he kissed the side of your face.

“I dunno. Thought it was funny,” Tate smirked, ruffling your hair playfully. He pulled you into a hug, and you leaned into it. Tate’s hands made their way down your figure, grazing your back. His hands cupped your ass and squeezed a little, making you squeak softly.

You pushed him back with a smile, grabbing your flip phone. “I gotta head out, my friends invited me,” You smile, dodging past him slightly. Tate grabbed your wrist, a hurt look in his dark eyes.

“Woah, what? I thought we were gonna spend Halloween together..?” Tate asked, cocking his head with a feigned look of confusion on his face. There he goes again, manipulating you. You never once planned to spend Halloween with him. For months, you and your friends have planned on hanging out, and now Tate was manipulating you again.

“When did we agree to that?” You chuckle, slightly confused.

“Last week,” He lied, grabbing both your wrists and pulling you closer. “Don’t you remember, Y/n?”

You shook your head. Tate grabbed your shoulders, pushing you backwards into your room. He forced you down to your bed, pinning your wrists on either side of your head.

“C’mon, Tate,” You say nervously, looking up at him with furrowed brows. Tate straddled you, keeping your wrists pinned down.

“Y/n, you’re not going anywhere. You’re gonna spend Halloween with me, okay?” Tate said shakily. He threw his backpack off, setting it next to him. Tate sat on your stomach, pinning your wrists down with his knees. You struggled slightly, hoping to get away from him.

“Moira!” You call, hoping to get the attention of your housekeeper, Moira. She was a kind, caring soul, but also a bit cold. Luckily for you, she liked you more than she liked your family or any of the other ghosts in the house. Tate pulls out a red ball gag, shoving it into your mouth before securing it at the back of your head. He moved your hair, prodding you like you were one of those porcelain dolls.

“Shh..calm down, Y/n..” Tate cooed, stroking your cheek with his knuckles. You whimpered into the gag, looking up at him with scared eyes.

“Hey-! You know i won’t hurt you!” Tate said sternly, shaking your shoulder. He took your wrists and handcuffed them to the bars of your headboard. You watched him pace the room, looking through his backpack. Tate was nervous himself, but the scared look on your face make him feel even worse. Tate pulled a small pill bottle out of his bag. He rushed back over to you, holding the bottle.

Tate sat next to your bound body on the bed, cupping your cheek in his hand. His other hand held the pill bottle in front of you. “Y/n, Y/n, look. I need you to take these, okay?”

Tate pulled the gag out of your mouth so you could speak. You hyperventilated, looking up at the boy who was supposed to take care of you, supposed to love you. He took his hand off of your face and grabbed your throat, tightening his hand around it. He held your throat tightly and popped the cap off of the bottle.

“Tate, I don’t wanna..” You cry. Tate grabs your throat tighter, looking down at you with tears in his eyes.

“No, c’mon Y/n! If you take ‘em, we’ll be together forever, okay?” Tate spoke quickly, clearly in a panic. You shook your head, whimpering.

“Just open your fucking mouth,” Tate growled, pushing your jaw down with one latex hand while the other shoved two little white and blue pills into your mouth. He forced them down so far that you had no choice but to swallow them.

“Swallow…Swallow them, babe. Swallow them and we can be together,” Tate cooed as you coughed and cried, your tears soaking your face. Once you swallowed the pills, he pulled his fingers out of your mouth.

Tate wrapped his hands around your neck, closing them tightly. His fingers dug into your neck, closing your airways. You looked up at him, wide eyes as you gasped for the air that you’d never receive again after this moment. Tate looked at you, swallowing hard. His warm, salty tears fell onto your face. He was sobbing now, sobbing as his fingers tightened around your throat.

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry, Y/n, but this was the only way…” Tate cried softly. His hands tightened as hard as they could. Harder and harder and harder until your airways snapped in your throat. Tate took his hands off your throat the moment he heard your airway collapse. He gasped, tears continuing to fall like a flood from his eyes Tate brushed his fingers over your eyelids, making sure they were closed.

“You’ll wake up in a few days, okay?” Tate sniffled, kissing your neck. He stroked your hair, kissing all over your neck and face as he cried. “I’m sorry..but we’ll be together now, okay…? You and me forever, Y/n..”

[dukeofankh]

Trying to find progressive masculine community is so exhausting.

I've flipped through local men's groups, trying to find places to explore masculinity in a chill, progressive setting. First of all, they mostly seem to be modelled after AA, and like, my gender isn't a debilitating addiction, it's part of my identity actually, but also, the invite and description of the event have maybe a short paragraph tops actually waving vaguely in the direction of what the purpose of the group is, and then ten to twenty paragraphs breaking down the rules. One spent longer talking about the hand signals he would use to direct conversation than he did describing what the conversation would be about. Another had a full paragraph explaining that if the group thought you were evading what they thought your "real" problem was, they'd probably "call you to take accountability". Like...I don't even know who these people are yet and they're already letting me know that they view it as their right, no, their duty, to bully me into seeing things their way. Like, this is in the invite.

...and this warning is there instead of any sort of breakdown of like, I dunno. Whether you should be a feminist to show up. Whether it was a safe space for queer men. What the hell they wanted to talk about. Joining a men's space is on some level inherently submitting yourself to the authority of the leaders of that group, and you don't usually get a particularly clear breakdown of what the values and goals of those leaders are, because on some level the answer is always going to be "whatever I want"

And like, unfortunately you do need to filter men to build a men's space. You do need to remove or chastise men who act in ways that are toxic or disruptive or misogynistic. If you don't things turn into an MRA chapter pretty quick. But the sort of emergency powers that leadership takes on as a result of that...just kind of naturally end up reproducing masculine heirarchies.

MensLib, the only online community of progressive dudes talking about masculinity that I'm aware of, is...on Reddit. So there is a moderator system. In theory, a moderator is there to...moderate. This is a space where people are going to be talking, and mods are there to make sure things don't get too toxic or off topic.

The issue is that, on some level, that is technically a leadership position. In a sub trying to rehabilitate masculinity. So you've got a bunch of folks who view themselves as the leaders of this bastion of goodness standing against the depredations of the misogynistic internet, guiding the hapless smooth-brain neophytes towards The True Way.

In practice, this looks like 95 percent of the posts submitted for the subreddit being rejected. That isn't hyperbole. On average, the sub has about one new post per day. Almost all posts directly relating a personal experience are deleted immediately, in favour of articles written about masculinity in traditional media publications, which are considered more trustworthy than the sus lived experiences of the guys in the sub. The post I wrote here about the effect of purity culture on male sexual shame that's sitting at about 15K notes was based on a 10K word post I wrote for Reddit that was deleted because "I didn't cite any sources to prove that there is a link between purity culture and male sexual shame, or that my experience was anything more than anecdotal". I get comments deleted on a regular basis, and after paragraphs of protesting in modmail that my comments are both fully in line with feminism and not against the rules, the mods have just finally told me that the rules don't actually drive their actions as a team. They delete anything they feel leads the conversation in a direction they personally feel is unproductive. The rule cited at the time of deletion is really just the broad category of why they decided to hit the button that says nobody is allowed to read what I wrote.

The issue is kind of twofold. First of all, progressive men do not trust other men. A good dude knows that he, individually, is a good person, but literally any other man external to him is on thin ice. Do you really want to tie your wagon to that guy? Do you trust him, really? How do you tell the difference between a guy criticizing an article because it's factually incorrect and criticising it because a woman wrote it? Probably best to play it safe and delete it. Weight of the odds, he's probably a misogynist, right? This is the internet.

And thats the other half of it. If you view yourself as part of the leadership of The Good Guys, and you're getting hatemail from incels and facists all day, you get to the point where most of the time people challenge your authority it's because they're a terrible person. It is very, very easy to get to the point where someone challenging you is seen as evidence that they are a bad person. And now someone is challenging you (and therefore bad), in an environment where you are in charge, and you have a "make your opponent disappear" button.

I know. A Reddit mod was rude to me and now I'm butthurt. It's petty and stupid. I'm just feeling like there's nowhere else to really go, and I'm pretty despondent that literally every space I've seen that even looks like it might be for progressive men has the same deeply hierarchical structure and constant status-oriented squabbling as patriarchal spaces.

[bamgyw]

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ the first night ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

flee from sexual immorality. every other sin a person commits is outside the body, but the sexually immoral person sins against his own body. - 1 corinthians 6:18

warnings: nothing too smutty yet. suggestive, let's call it that. mentions of abuse and violence. a/n: i'm realising it’s a little slow burn but that's better for the tension building. there's fingering in the next part, just bear with me. also, might be corny at times. i dunno. sorry. this is a part of a longer work ♡ go to the beginning here

soobin's room was a shithole. it had a correctional feel, with sparse furniture and an austere, almost monastic approach to decorations –not one poster, not one framed picture, not one item that didn't have a practical utility– as if he hadn't had an interest in his life.

it freaked beomgyu out how clean it was, and how earnest; everything that was worth seeing could be spotted with a single glance. simple. soobin had shamelessly exposed the stark core of his existence, that is, a plain wall and the depressive charm of a victorian orphanage.

the mattress was rigid, too. unbending. it defeated the whole purpose, beomgyu thought. it irritated him, that someone would make a mattress so hard it was almost a prank item, and that someone else would be stupid enough to buy it. he was sure soobin’s stepfather thought it built character, or some bullshit of the sort.

beomgyu lay there, sprawled out like a starfish, staring up at the ceiling. he couldn’t sleep. not a wink. his stomach was killing him, or maybe it was his liver, or his kidneys – hell, he couldn’t tell anymore. everything just ached, like his whole body was one big bruise.

his dad hadn't just kicked him out. that would have been too kind. no, his dad had kicked him out after beating the shit out of him. real old-school, no-holds-barred kind of beating. 

half of his internal organs might have been bleeding out in that moment, but whatever. beomgyu, stubborn as he was, refused to go to the hospital. he hated the clinics, the cold tools, the patronising doctors. he could already picture them, their eyes widening as they examined him, enumerating the parts of his body that were just about to give up. if he was dying, he really didn't wanna know.  

they would ask who had done that to him, and if he was sure he didn’t want to press charges. as if. as if he could ever bring himself to do that.

he couldn’t sue his father, he never would. even if his body was falling apart and in ruins. it was their thing. the beatings, the fights. the twisted ritual that kept them tied together. to snitch on his dad would be to betray him, to shatter the only fragile bond they had left.

so there he was, sleepless in soobin’s room, rolling around in the concrete mattress helplessly, restlessly, until he got so bored he couldn’t stand it anymore. 

the room was dark and quiet, the kind of quiet that presses down on you, heavy and suffocating. he needed to get up, to do something, anything to distract himself from the pain and the mess in his head.

he decided to go to the kitchen. maybe a glass of water would help, or at least give him something to do. as he got up from the bed, he didn’t worry too much about waking soobin. he knew he very rarely slept. he needed to be alert every second, like closing his eyes would make him too vulnerable.

that was one of the things that fascinated beomgyu about him—how soobin carried that crippling anger with him everywhere, but he never complained, never erupted. if beomgyu’s dad hit him, beomgyu would hit back, an eye for an eye. but when soobin’s stepdad hit soobin, he would just stand there, stiff and quiet like an ancient tree, never saying a word in some militaristic vow of silence.

the hallway was eerily quiet as beomgyu made his way downstairs, each step echoing in the stillness of the night. he moved cautiously, aware of how the house breathed around him, the creaks and groans of the old wood floors amplifying in the nothingness. he didn’t mind the silence though; it gave him space to think, to let his mind wander even as his body throbbed with pain.

he still tried to make as little noise as possible. the last thing he needed was for soobin’s stepdad to wake up and find him rummaging through the kitchen. that man already had a hair-trigger temper, and beomgyu didn’t need another beating tonight. he moved like a shadow, each step calculated, avoiding the spots he knew would creak the loudest.

reaching the kitchen, a thought crossed his mind. if he was lucky, he might just figure out where soobin’s stepdad kept the expensive whiskey. the good stuff, the kind that could numb the pain, at least for a while. he knew he had a hidden stash no one could access, soobin had told him. it was a small, fleeting hope, but it was something to do. a quest to keep him entertained.

slowly, he eased open each cupboard in the kitchen, the hinges protesting with a drawn-out creak. he peered inside, squinting to make out the shapes in the dark. 

but a fleeting glimmer caught his eye, halting his breath for a moment. someone, two eyes in the dark. he gasped, startled. he only began to calm down when his eyes started to make out the shape. he cursed at himself for being too jumpy. it was just one of those ceramic figures of virgin and child.

he looked around the room. his eyes had become used to the dark enough for him to guess the shilhouettes. anywhere he looked there was a porcelain veiled lady carrying her holy baby, an agonising jesus on the cross, some martyr saint immortalised in art with the object that gave them death.

everywhere blood, everywhere tears, everywhere fire, swords and stained white cloths. he couldn’t see them properly in the gloom, but the white of the eyes fixated on him so eerily it felt assaultive.

"fucking hell," beomgyu breathed out. that room was like a souvenir store at the vatican. soobin’s stepdad had amassed religious imagery with borderline obsession.

he must want redemption really bad, beomgyu thought. he must have done something unforgivable and now he's trying to buy his way into heaven with catholic merchandise.

the watchful gazes and the silent judgement were starting to weigh down on him, and he was about to give up, thinking maybe he’d better just head back to bed. but in a sudden, careless movement, he turned around and bumped into something soft and warm. a body of flesh. the stepsister.

in a split second, he realized the situation and acted purely on instinct. his hand shot out and clamped over your mouth, muffling any potential scream that might shatter the silence. "don't yell, please don't yell... i'm soobin’s friend." his voice was a harsh whisper, almost a plea. slowly, cautiously, he reached out and flicked on the light switch, still keeping his hand firmly over your mouth. "don't be scared." he murmured, more to himself than to you.

as the light finally flickered to life, it illuminated the room with a harsh, revealing glow. he saw you for the first time.

fuck. his breath caught in his throat. slowly, he released his grasp. he almost felt sorry to have touched you. like he could've stained you, somehow. like he was a foul moth and you were the sunlight.

it all made sense now. why your father guarded you so closely, as if he was keeping something holy. this was the secret they had shielded him from, the thing they didn't want to share—soobin and the stepdad. the face of a doll, with moonlit eyes and sugared strawberry lips, sweet enough to taste. an angel of a girl.

"you're not a kid," he breathed out, the words almost a whisper of disbelief.

you remained silent, standing there, paralysed like a scared rabbit ready to bolt. your instinct to flee would get triggered at the minimum movement from him. he could see that, but he couldn't fight the force –call it divine, call it gravitational– that kept pulling him towards you.

he reached for your hand, and you tried to get away. but he was quicker, seizing your wrist firmly. it didn't hurt, though. he was tender with his grasp. you weren’t used to that. with the slightest pull you could've freed yourself, but you chose not to.

"please, stay with me for a bit," he said, his voice almost as gentle as his touch. "talk to me."

you should’ve flinched. you should’ve yanked your hand away and stormed up to your room, locking the door behind you. but you didn’t. you allowed his grasp on your wrist to shift, to evolve at beomgyu’s will until the handcuffed enclosement turned into his hand sweetly holding yours.

"why?" was the only thing you could muster.

"because i can't sleep," he said, the words falling from his lips. ‘and because i want to look at you forever, christ.’ he thought before calmly adding, "my brain... it thinks too much at night. doesn't come up with the most pleasant thoughts, either. everything's too silent."

"that means you feel guilty." you said.

"yeah," he nodded. he was feverish. thirsty. "exactly."

"i feel like that too," you said. “sometimes.”

beomgyu thought he was going insane. that you weren't even real. some imaginary angel his mind had made up to comfort him just a little. it was the house, he thought, it was like an asylum. the light was too bright, too white. everywhere he looked, jesus christ or the virgin mary would return his gaze. the whole place was designed to keep him away from you, he thought, paranoid. but you didn't fit there. you felt warm and honeyed and lovely. you just didn't belong.

your hand was in his, as secure and mellow as your connected gazes, and he would rather die than let go of it. but he took his other hand up to your face, caressing your cheek with the back of it. it was scorching hot, rosy pink and glazed like an apple.

“you’re very pretty.” he mumbled, almost a purr.

“you can’t say that.”

“beautiful eyes, too.” he said. “sad.”

"my dad doesn't hesitate to hurt people." you said, trying to warn him away. you felt too cozy under his touch to push him yourself.

"i don't care what happens to me." beomgyu said, letting his hand travel to your neck, your hair, your cheek again. he would explore as far as you allowed him to. "but i wouldn't want him to hurt you."

"then leave." you said. but you didn't care what happened to you, either. he could see it in the worry of your eyes. it wasn't a fear for yourself, it was an all-embracing need to protect.

beomgyu shook his head slightly. "i’ll take the blame."

"he will say i brought it upon myself. that i looked for it." you said. "he’ll call me the whore of babylon and make me suffer for it."

you didn't seem as frightened as you seemed certain. not a lost bunny, not the distressed victim. you were aware of your actions and their consequences, intellectually and matter-of-factly. and for the first time in his life, beomgyu held something beautiful and felt not the need to destroy, but to save.

"your daddy can try." he said. "i have a dad of my own, and i know how they are. it’s just hubris. don't be so scared of a man who collects figurines of jesus christ like they're funko pops. he's the one who's terrified, don't you see?"

you smiled slightly, and he liked it so much. how the formerly strained and full of fear muscles of your face relaxed into that adorable grin. how he had done that to you. he was so satisfied, so proud of himself for getting an angel to smile. he wanted to do that forever.

he tried to stop himself from staring at you, fearing you'd get intimidated under his hungry gaze. that you'd fear him. but he couldn't quit. you were his new thirst, his desire unlimited, a beautiful wet dream standing right in front of him.

that stupid white nightdress was giving him such a hard time, too. the two necklaces you wore, so pretty and delicate. the first one, fastened and secured close to your neck was the pearls. he didn't know if they were real or not, he was just some brute before a siren. second was the rosary beads in rose mother-of-pearl, loosely draping over your chest to fall under the fabric of the nightwear, wickedly hidden from beomgyu’s sight.

he assumed they were the kind jewel you never took off. he liked the idea. they seemed so easy to pull on, to hang on to. so ornamental over a naked body. so fucking pretty.

his hand travelled up to the rosary beads, almost with a brain of its own. you swiftly moved your own hand over his to stop him, but you ended up softening your grip and letting him do as he pleased.

“do you sleep with these on?” he asked, softly. "it’s dangerous, you know? you could choke."

“i take them off.” you said. “i just wasn’t going to bed yet. i can't sleep lately. like you.” 

of course. you were just like him. morphed by your hostile environment into a broken half-human. an incomplete being, hollow. but still so beautiful and gentle. unlike him. he had felt his void with hatred, while you had maintained yours clean and unpolluted. he wanted to fill it with kisses, with caresses, with words of praise.

he began to lean in.

your breath hitched. he was so handsome, painfully so. plump lips, elegant cheeckbones. you liked him. you wanted to keep looking at him, to have your hand reach for his face and feel his skin, too. you wanted to never stop him from leaning in and to let him kiss you.

but the realization of it all sent a wave of panic through you, because you knew you couldn’t—shouldn’t—like him. you got away. "i really should leave," you said, but it came out more like a whisper, more like a plea. 

still holding the beads, he took his hand to your cheeks again. you leaned in to his touch a little, but you didn't give in completely. you had led a life of strict restrain and soldierlike discipline. you had the willpower of a hundred trained armies.

yet that didn't make it hurt less to let him go. you grabbed his hand and put it down with a slight shaking of your head.

“please,” he begged one last time.

you began to walk back while facing him, as if to make sure he wouldn’t follow after you. beomgyu's heart ached with each step you took away from him, his fingers curling into fists at his sides as he watched you disappear into the shadows. 

but a stupid thought, impulsive and idiotic came to you. in daddy’s house —the house of god— it was the type of idea that could get you killed. you swiftly approached him, almost unnoticeably, like a ghost. when you found yourself before him, you tiptoed slightly. you pecked his cheek. then you disappeared.

"good night," beomgyu whispered into the dark. he felt a pang of emptiness, like that feeling after a good dream slips away in the morning.

before his mom left, she used to take him to the ballet. he remembered a specific one in that moment. la sylphide. mom had loved that one. he felt like the lead, a man whose name he couldn't remember, kissed in the night by some magical being but waking up to nothing but her memory.

he was spaced out as he headed back to soobin's room, lost in his own thoughts. pushing the door open, he found soobin sitting up on the bed with the night lamp casting shadows over his unreadable face.

"why're you still up?" soobin asked him, his tone as flat as the mattress.

"just grabbed some water," beomgyu replied, keeping it simple.

"is everything alright?"

beomgyu gave a nod, not really knowing how to approach the subject. if he should even talk about it, if he would be capable of speaking without giving out too much. he slipped under the covers, giving soobin a subtle signal to switch off the light. and just as the room started to dim, he spoke into the darkness. "i saw your sister."

soobin's strained response came out after an exaggerated stretch of silence. "she's not my sister," he muttered.

beomgyu let the quiet hang for a beat before muttering; "well, she’s beautiful.”

soobin said nothing. the rustle of sheets is all that broke the silence as he rolled on his side, facing away from beomgyu. in the stillness, beomgyu drifted off into sleep, like touched by a divine calmness. soobin, however, remained awake.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ next part

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ none of you have let me know if you think reading about booty sex is gross yet

[uglypastels]

Logan idea- reader has very similar traumas I.e trained as a weapon, memories wiped, has bad nightmares, slower aging, modified healing.

They find healing with the X-men and get close with Logan because of their similarities the reader is more sunshine to Logan’s I don’t know if pessimism is the right word. They go on a mission, goes missing for a period, and when they show back up they’ve been brain washed and are fighting the X-men but Logan recognizes them instantly. And does the whole this isn’t you sweetheart while taking a beating cause they can both kick ass and that’s one of the things Logan loves about them. He gets the mask off of them cause he realizes that’s part of the issue for them not recognizing everyone and then it’s hurt/comfort them feeling horrible for getting caught and Logan feeling horrible for letting them get caught. And even though they hadn’t been together before just very close friends/testing the waters this brings them together cause they realize they want to be with each other after some healing and Logan be soft with the reader while they heal from the brainwashing fiasco.

I dunno I love the idea of Logan feeling horrible about not being able to rescue the reader and then recognizing them fighting his allies and helps bring them back from the void. I’m a sucker for two people relating to eachother having a friendship that a hard time brings out their true feelings with lots of fluff and healing cause Logan understands that.

this made me think of some of my favourite wolverine scenes from different media so it's all inspired by that i guess. hope you like it :3

warnings: angst. mind control. reader presumed dead. swearing. violence. hospital-setting. guilt.

Masterlist ~ X-Men Requests are Open

‘What the hell are you doing? We have to go back!’ Logan started yelling as soon as he realised you hadn’t made it back to the jet. 

‘It’s too late,’ Scott shouted back at him from the pilot seat. ‘We won’t make it.’ 

‘She won’t make it,’ Logan retorted, already lunging at the cockpit, claws itching to come out. And they would have if it wasn’t for the cold hand touching his skin. He looked up to meet Rogue’s eyes. They were filled with sadness–pity– as she held his hand. He tried to pull out of her hold, but the longer it went on, the more frail he felt. Everything around him began to spin, his vision blurred until it all turned black, and his head hit the steel flooring of the plane.

⮿

Rogue had held on for too long. That much she had realised as soon as Logan had passed out.

It took a whole day for him to come by, but not even her powerful narcosis had suppressed his rage. As soon as Logan had woken up and his senses had felt Scott’s presence, he was on his feet, grabbing the team leader by the collar of his shirt, pushing him against 

‘You proud of yourself, punk?’ he spat in Scott’s face. ‘Got your sorry ass out all safe and sound, huh?’

‘There was no other way. We would have all died if we had stayed, Logan,’ Storm clawed at his shoulders to pull him back, but none of her methods sufficed. ‘This was the only way.’

‘No the fuck, it wasn’t!’ He saw red with anger. ‘We could have saved her.’ He had pulled out of saying that one word at the last minute. I could have saved her. That was the only thing on his mind for weeks. How you still would have been there if it wasn’t for him. 

The plan had been simple; that much had been clear in your face as you suggested it the last time he saw you. But he never should have gone along with it. He never should have let you go on your own. If he had just stayed— ran after you— maybe…

A pitiful portion of him still kept up hope. That one day, the heavy doors to the mansion would open, and you would stand in the middle. Perhaps a bit bruised up and tired, but all there. And he would pull you into his arms like he had wanted to all those times before.

But you never did show up. Days turned into weeks turned into months, and there had been no news, no sightings. Even the Professor had stopped seeking Cerebro’s help as nothing turned up anyway, no matter how hard he looked.

⮿

His heart was in his chest as he raced through the dark corridors of the bunker complex. Logan looked around him for the way out with the least henchmen as chances of there being none were slim. He had already left a trail of bodies behind him and was ready for the next wave of men to beat into a pulp.

He turned the corner, but what he saw was the last thing he had expected.

For a second, he thought he was dreaming; perhaps it was a hallucination brought on by some chemicals they pumped into the air to get to him. It wasn’t possible. His mouth had already fallen open, ready to call out your name, but as you got into a stance of attack, eyes blank except for a fury deep inside them, Logan realised it wasn’t a dream at all. It was a bloody terror. 

It was the hardest fight he had ever been in, trying to block all of your attacks while pulling himself back. He couldn’t het himself to hurt you. All he found himself doing was calling your name, but it was useless. It was you, but it wasn’t. Nothing he said seemed to matter, seemed to take any effect on you. You lunged at him, punching and kicking. 

It was futile to try and argue with you, and so, against every muscle and nerve in his body screaming against it, Logan started to place his movements harder, fighting against you until you went limp in his arms. He cursed himself out as he looked down at your unconscious body, pushing some of your loose hair out of your face. But as he looked at you, he also saw that it really was you still in there. And so he didn’t waste a second thinking about it as he picked you up in his arms and ran as fast as his body could take him. Out of the tortuous underground maze and back to that godforsaken jet that had been the scene of the dreams that had plagued his mind for the past months.

⮿

Everyone had practically stopped in their tracks at the sight of you in Logan’s arms. He stumbled into the jet, nearly falling over, having had, as predicted, to deal with a number more nameless jackasses, but with you in his arms, it made beating them up a bit more challenging.

‘What—’ Storm’s eyes were nearly as pale of shock as they would have been of her powers. 

‘She’s been brainwashed,’ Logan explained before anything else, ‘or controlled. I don’t know, but he’s hostile. We need to keep her down.’ He laid you down on the ground, sitting right beside you, wiping the sweat off his forehead with a deep heave, and only then he noticed the looks of everyone around him. ‘What?’

No one said a thing, but he knew what they were all thinking. For he was thinking it, too. Was it safe to bring you back home? Could whatever they had done to you be reversed, or was he just putting everyone at the school in danger by taking you back? 

‘Is everyone back?’ He just said after no one had dared to say another word.

⮿

Logan didn’t know what had possessed him. Why he had suddenly grown so protective over you, but he could not stand the idea of you being alone in the hospital wing. It took nearly half a week just for Jean and the Professor to understand what had happened to you, and the treatment itself took far longer than Logan would have liked. 

He didn’t know why he came to visit you every night, far outside the regular visiting hours, past when anyone would be awake to see him sneak in and sit by your side, holding your hand, hoping you could feel and hear him as the apologies spilt out of him.

‘I’m so sorry, bub.’ He kissed your knuckles. ‘I should have gone back for you. I should have–’ He stilled as you stirred in your bed. 

‘Logan?’ You croaked out, throat dry and hoarse. In slight shock, Logan said nothing. You blinked and tried to find him in the darkness of the room. ‘Logan? Is that you?’

‘Yeah, it’s me.’ He chuckled softly to himself, squeezing your hand.

‘What happened?’ You tried to sit up, orientating yourself to where exactly it was that you were, but he quickly pushed at your shoulder to stay put. 

‘It’s a long story, kid.’ Never before was Logan happy to be sitting in the dark as the tears he had subdued for months finally fell down his cheeks in extreme relief. ‘You uh– you’d been gone for a while.’ 

‘I was?’ you tried to remember, ‘I can’t recall anything. It’s all—’

‘I know.’ He kept your hand in his, rubbing your skin with his thumb. Logan knew to call for someone as soon as he saw you stir awake, but he needed this moment alone with you. Make sure you are doing alright himself. Besides, the professor was probably already on his way. 

‘It’s okay. You’re alright now.’ He continued, happy you had finally come back home.

the end.

thank you for reading 💗

if you enjoyed the fic, please consider reblogging and leaving a comment. or send a message via my inbox. requests are also more than welcome. 💗

[luvkyu]

my love, i still ( mark lee ) part two

mark x male reader

mark is a mess, but he'd never say that out loud.

content : 2.4k words, angst, idol!mark x manager!reader, ex-relationship, some riize, mk is v sweet but the ending will make u guys hate me i fear

part one

"what the hell.." y/n mumbled to himself.

"get it out, get it out!!" anton shouted annoyedly.

"i'm trying!" wonbin screamed back.

y/n watched the scene in front of him. he'd just arrived at riize's dorm to find that somehow wonbin and sohee had gotten anton's foot stuck in their sofa, though wonbin denied any fault in the situation.

"how do you even get a foot stuck in a sofa?" y/n asked tiredly.

"we were trying to prank him, but it just- y'know what, nevermind," sohee gave up on explaining. anton looked down at him with a death glare.

"i don't even know what happened," anton added.

wonbin held the cushions back while sohee tried to maneuver his groupmate's foot out of the sofa springs.

"i feel like i should be helping but i'm having a good time just watching," y/n snickered.

"hyung!" anton whined.

"alright, alright," y/n gave in. just as he was about to help, sohee finally pulled anton's foot out.

"i'm just glad you're wearing socks," wonbin grumbled.

anton rolled his eyes and stomped off to his room.

"anyways, hi y/n!!" wonbin enthused, he and sohee rushing to hug their manager.

"nah, get away from me you troublemakers."

"i told you, sohee did it, not me!!" wonbin defended.

y/n rolled his eyes and hugged the two of them anyways.

"okay, here's your lunch. your schedules are clear for the rest of the day so make sure to rest enough. tomorrow's gonna be a much longer day," y/n said as he set their bags of food on the table. "sohee, can you go get the others?"

sohee quickly nodded and skipped off to retrieve the rest of his members for lunch.

y/n sat down by wonbin and pulled out his phone. he smiled upon seeing a message from mark.

mark :

hey :) we still on for coffee tonight?

y/n :

yes :) sys !!

mark :

okay cool 🤍

y/n sighed and set his phone down. by now, the rest of the group had filtered out into the common room for their food. y/n looked up to see shotaro giving him a smug stare.

"what..?" y/n asked.

"who's got you smiling at your phone like that?" shotaro teased.

"oooh! manager hyung has a girlfriend!" wonbin cheered.

y/n's nose scrunched up in disgust, "girlfriend??"

wonbin's grin faltered, looking between y/n and shotaro - who busted into a fit of laughter that filled their dorm instantly.

"i'm gay, bin," y/n clarified.

wonbin's eyes widened. he quickly covered his mouth to hide his fallen jaw.

"oh, i'm sorry!! you have a boyfriend then!"

y/n chuckled. "no, nothing like that."

"tsk. what a lie," shotaro insisted.

y/n sighed and shook his head. "you guys are so nosy. i'm gonna head out now for some errands. i'll be back late, but call me if you need anything."

"boooo," shotaro pouted.

"remember we need to leave at seven in the morning tomorrow. be ready to go, please," y/n added.

the boys muttered responses as their manager finally departed from their dorm.

"is it true he and mark dated?" eunseok asked.

"i dunno for sure," shotaro answered.

"wait, what??" wonbin was very confused. he almost felt left out. "there's a y/n and mark theory??"

"yeah, but i'd rather not talk too much about it when he's not here."

wonbin frowned at his leader's reply. "i guess that's fair."

"are you and y/n getting back together??" chenle asked excitedly. jeno and renjun stood with him, eyes wide with hope.

mark freezed and in tracks. he was about to leave to meet y/n for their coffee 'date'. he wasn't quite sure what to call it.

"..we're just going for some coffee," mark replied.

".." chenle stared at him. "you didn't answer my question."

mark thought for a second. "oh.. no, i guess..?"

chenle frowned. renjun patted their leader's shoulder from beside him.

"we'll take that as a maybe," he concluded instead. mark rolled his eyes and grabbed his keys to finally leave.

"what's going on?" jisung asked. his brows furrowed at the sight of three of his group members crowded around mark like little gremlins.

"we were asking if mark's getting back together with y/n."

jisung looked at mark and smiled, "of course he is."

"see!!" renjun cheered.

mark would've scoffed and bid his friends goodbye by now, but he was a bit taken back by jisung's sincere reply. the youngest was now comfy on the floor against the couch with his phone in hand, as if his statement was no news to anyone.

jisung felt his leader's eyes on him after a moment. he looked over at mark before lowering his phone.

"what? you are, right?" jisung asked. "..it's y/n. he's it for you. everyone knows that."

mark blinked. he looked back to the other boys, who clearly agreed with jisung.

"i'll see you guys later," mark said with a shake of his head.

jisung's mouth twitched downwards as he stared after mark. he then looked at his groupmates, worried.

"did i upset him..?"

"you didn't upset him. i think he's still figuring out what the fuck he's doing," jeno assured.

"well, he should hurry up," jisung muttered before going back to his phone.

mark stared at his feet as he walked out of the dorm. he knew his friends liked teasing him, but it was like their words were really starting to hit the target.

his watch showed a quarter til ten o'clock, fifteen minutes before he and y/n were supposed to meet at the coffee shop. mark could feel goosebumps on his skin. he hadn't been this nervous in a while.

the coffee shop was a small one; a little hole-in-the-wall of a store. mark found it very cozy and safe, and he was pretty sure y/n would feel the same. he just hoped meeting at the late hour would help them avoid other people for the most part.

once he arrived, he recognized y/n sitting at a table in the corner. the lighting was dim and the smell of coffee beans made the atmosphere even more relaxed.

y/n's eyes fell on mark as he sat across from him in all his glory. y/n felt his heartbeat pick up when he saw that mark was wearing his glasses.

"hi," mark spoke with a cheesy grin.

"hi," y/n smiled. "i haven't seen your glasses in forever."

mark's eyes widened as his hand reached up to adjust the frames sitting on his nose. he chuckled nervously.

"oh, yeah, sorry. i was having a lazy night. i kinda forgot i was even wearing them."

"don't be sorry," y/n smiled again, "i love your glasses."

"really?"

y/n nodded.

"oh.. well, i'll keep that in mind then." a light blush rose on mark's cheeks as he looked down at the table. the whole situation felt a bit weird if he was honest. it felt like they were just meeting for the first time again.

"so how're the guys?" y/n spoke up. although the question was mostly to fill the awkward silence, he was genuinely interested in hearing about the other dream members.

"they're good! jisung is thinking about getting a pet."

"oh cool! does he know what he wants? like what animal?" y/n asked further.

"not yet," mark shook his head. "do you still have your cat?"

"mhm!" y/n replied. mark loved watching the way his eyes lit up. y/n's cat was about the sweetest animal he'd met before, always cuddly and gentle. "she's adjusting to moving back from japan, but i think she's doing okay with it."

"that's good then," mark smiled. "and how's working with riize?"

"it's, um.. interesting!" y/n joked. mark laughed along while nodding.

"no, they're great," y/n continued. "wonbin is very.. baby. and sungchan has this ideology that no one will care if he goes around the dorm barely clothed."

mark burst out laughing at that, causing y/n to laugh along.

"what, does he walk around in his underwear, or..??" mark asked.

y/n nodded. "sometimes not even underwear. sometimes he'll be naked under a robe but he won't pay attention to when it gets loose or moves the wrong way. he's something else.."

mark kept laughing at the image of sungchan strutting around the dorm in just a robe.

"god, that's funny. jaemin taught him well, i guess."

"jaemin is worse," y/n laughed again, making mark's brows raise. "yeah, jaemin does it cause he knows he's hot. sungchan just doesn't care enough to clothe himself."

the two continued laughing at their table. their faces grew red as they clutched their stomachs and sat back in their seats trying to catch a breath.

mark sighed, looking at y/n with a fond smile. "i missed you."

y/n smiled and looked down, "i missed you too, mark."

"..i'm sorry for the way things ended."

y/n's smile faded a bit. he quickly shook his head at the apology.

"don't be. we both handled it as best we could."

"mm," mark hummed. he didn't agree. "but i could've done more. i feel like i let you down back then. i never thought we'd be apart and then when you were gone.. i don't know. the year you were away might have been the worst year of my life."

y/n looked at him, unsure of what to say. mark kept eye contact, refusing to back down like he normally would.

"after you left," mark began again, "there were multiple times when i would go to your old apartment building and just sit outside. like i was waiting for you to come back home. i knew i was kidding myself, but.. somehow it was comforting. like, that was the closest i could possibly get to you, so it was okay."

y/n felt like crying.

"how can you be so sweet and so depressing at the same time?" y/n asked with a small chuckle.

"sorry," mark smiled. "i didn't invite you out to be this sad. we can talk about something else."

"no, it's okay. it's good to talk about that stuff, i don't mind."

mark took a deep breath and nodded.

"so are you living with riize? or do you get your own place?"

"i'm with the boys for now. i don't mind it much, honestly. i like taking care of them."

mark smiled and nodded. he expected as much.

"well, how was japan then? was the work very different?"

y/n thought for a moment. "it was different, yes. definitely took some getting used to. y'know, going from taking care of seven dreamies to just minding my business was odd."

mark nodded, "they'd love to see you. we should all do something sometime."

"yes please."

it was quiet again for a moment. not awkward, just quiet.

"oh, do you want some tea or anything? i think i'll get a drink now."

mark watched y/n get his wallet out while glancing at the menu list that hung by the shop's counter.

"no, i'm okay. thank you."

y/n nodded and opened his wallet, still trying to see the menu so he wouldn't have to stand idly by the register.

a familiar picture caught mark's eye after a second. a polaroid was sticking out of y/n's wallet. it was the polaroid they took together at incheon airport. dream's flight was delayed, so he and y/n walked around for a bit to pass the time. it was pretty empty thanks to the early morning. they found an unoccupied gate and sat alone for a bit, talking and laughing. it was the most fun mark had ever had at an airport.

"you kept it?" mark asked.

"hm?" y/n followed the male's gaze down to the photo. he grinned and took it out. "oh.. of course i did."

mark felt tears prick at his eyes as he held the small polaroid in his hands. they looked so happy it made his heart ache.

mark was handing the photo back to y/n when he felt a chill go down his spine. he spotted someone in the corner of his eye taking pictures. or videos, who knew. it was definitely just a fan, but it was still unsettling. y/n watched mark cross his arms and adjust his mask in silence.

"is something wrong?" y/n asked.

mark didn't reply, only giving a glance to the fan that was holding their phone up at the other side of the shop.

"damn it. let's just go." y/n was quick to return his wallet to his pocket as he and mark got up and hurried out.

"you okay?" y/n checked in. they were now just walking along the street together. mark exhaled and nodded. he pulled his mask down and looked at y/n with a grateful smile.

"i'm fine. thank you."

y/n grinned and nodded back.

it was quiet again for a minute or so. the pair just enjoyed the gentle breeze and the sounds of the nighttime . mark's thoughts started to get the best of him as he glanced over at y/n a couple times.

"can i ask..?" mark trailed off, unsure of himself.

"hm?"

"do you ever, um.. do you think things could, like, be the way they used to be..?"

y/n's breath became a little staggered. "you mean with us?"

mark nodded.

"oh.. mm," y/n didn't know exactly what to say. he would be lying if he said he was over his feelings for mark. but things could get complicated and messy very fast if they weren't careful.

"i don't know.."

mark nodded again. he could feel a lump forming in his throat as he looked away from y/n now.

"that's okay. i don't want to push anything," mark looked up at the moon as he spoke. "you'll always mean a lot to me, y/n. i really do love you."

y/n slipped his hands into his pockets, gazing down at his feet. mark was about to make him cry if he didn't stop soon.

"i think i'll always love you," y/n said quietly. mark finally looked back over at him with a bittersweet smile.

"should we just.. try to move on now? just try to be friends?" mark asked.

"i guess," y/n replied with a small sigh. he wasn't sure what moving on would mean, but he was hoping it was for the better.

they continued to walk together without talking much more, just enjoying each other's company while they could.

[agaypanic]

Maybe a little blurb or headcanon on mutual first Valentine’s Day with Rodrick? I’ve never celebrated with anyone and Rodrick gets no bitches so he’d be lost about it all but he tries 🥲

First Valentine's Day (Rodrick Heffley X Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: It’s your and Rodrick’s first time celebrating Valentine’s Day as not single, and you both don’t really know what to do.

***

It really felt like just another day. You were with Rodrick, lying on his bed with him while listening to one of his CDs. He patted the beat of the song on your thigh that was lying across his hips, muttering the lyrics while you looked through one of the magazines he had. 

You and Rodrick had been dating for a few months now. This was your first real relationship, and Rodrick’s as well. Although it was still a bit new, you felt comfortable just laying around with him, not needing to talk or do something.

A knock on Rodrick’s door made you jolt, but Rodrick didn’t seem to pay any mind. The door opened, and Susan popped her head into the room.

“Hi, kids!” She said with that signature smile of hers. You smiled at her and said hello back, while Rodrick gave a hum of acknowledgement. “You know, I’m surprised you guys aren’t out right now.”

“Why would we be, Mom?” Rodrick asked, probably waiting for her to shut the door and leave.

“It’s Valentine’s Day, Rodrick!”

You and your boyfriend glanced at each other confusedly and then looked back at Susan. She looked surprised at your reactions.

“Don’t tell me you forgot.” You didn’t have to tell her; it was clear that you had. You and Rodrick never really celebrated Valentine’s Day before, so it didn’t occur to either of you that you were able to do so with each other. “You guys should go out somewhere! Have some fun! But, you know, be safe and be back home by curfew.”

You and Rodrick looked at each other, seeming to have a conversation with just your eyes. There were enough hours left in the day to do something fun, but ideas of what to do exactly didn’t come to mind. There was a chance that Rodrick’s mom would keep pestering you two until you decided to go. 

“Wanna go out?” You asked. Rodrick pursed his lips.

“Sure, why not?”

You slipped your shoes on, and the two of you left Rodrick’s room. Susan gave her son some cash, telling you to have fun but not be out too late. Then you left the house and got into Rodrick’s van.

“So…” You buckled your seatbelt and looked at your boyfriend, who was tapping on his steering wheel. “Where should we go?”

He thought for a minute before sighing.

“I dunno.”

The two of you sat in silence, trying to think of an activity that would be worth leaving the comfort of Rodrick’s room. It was so quiet that Rodrick could hear your stomach growl.

“Hungry?” He asked in a teasing voice, laughing as you playfully smacked his arm.

“Shut up.” You tried to sound serious, but a chuckle broke through. “Food, then?”

“Hell yeah.”

***

Rodrick ended up driving to a nearby convenience store, one that he was used to going to with you or his friends. When you hopped out of the van, he grabbed your hand and dragged you inside.

“Mom gave me twenty bucks.” He said, going straight to the slushie machines. You giggled as he unintentionally forced you to pick up your pace, seeing as his legs were longer than yours. 

“And we’re gonna spend it all on junk food?” You asked, accepting the large plastic cup that Rodrick grabbed for you.

“Duh!”

Rodrick filled his cup with different blue flavors while you chose red. Then he sped over to the self-serve hot dog station, putting a dog in a bun and covering it with ketchup and mustard. You were a bit more tame with your toppings, grinning at your boyfriend’s enthusiasm. 

“I think I’m gonna grab some candy or chips or something.” You say, sliding your hot dog over to Rodrick for him to watch. 

“Oh!” He caught your attention before you could leave the aisle. His voice was slightly muffled by the bite of the hot dog he had taken. “Can you get me some-”

“Ruffles?” You guessed, knowing those were some of his favorite chips. He nodded. “Yeah, babe. I’ll be right back.”

You skipped a few aisles over, grabbing Rodrick’s chips before deciding what to grab for yourself. Then you went to look at the candy. Your eyes lit up when you found a bag of typical Valentine’s conversation hearts. Snatching that quickly, you also grabbed a few candy bars before returning to Rodrick.

“That it?” He asked, taking a sip of his slushie. It must’ve been too much too quick because he soon winced. “Ah, brain freeze!”

“Yup!” You answered, laughing at your boyfriend’s scrunched up expression while somehow managing to grab your drink and hot dog. Rodrick grabbed some of the snacks to lighten your load, and the two of you went to the checkout counter.

The total was a little bit more than what Susan had given you. You took out your wallet to help pay the difference, but Rodrick slapped your wrist.

“Put that away, weirdo.” He said, taking out his own wallet and giving the cashier a few extra dollars. You rolled your eyes, pocketing your money and grabbing your hot dog and slushie. You were about to grab the bag that the guy put all your snacks in, but Rodrick beat you to it.

“You’re so chivalrous.” You joked as you left the convenience store, heading back to Rodrick’s van.

“I don’t even know what that means.” The serious, slightly confused tone he had made you laugh. “But thanks. I think.”

***

You and Rodrick went to the park, figuring it was a nice enough day to be outside. 

Although, you weren’t really outside. Instead, you sat on the van floor with the side door open to have some fresh air. A blanket Rodrick kept in the van was spread out for the two of you to sit on. Even though it was nice out, there was a bit of wind. Seeing you shiver slightly, Rodrick gave you his black and white checkered jacket.

“Have you ever thought about cleaning this place out?” You asked, looking at the different piles of random junk that Rodrick kept in the vehicle as you zipped up the hoodie. You had to push the sleeves up so they wouldn’t get dirty.

“Not really.” He answered, chomping down on his food.

You looked behind you and grabbed something to show him.

“You have a basketball in here, Roddy. You don’t even play basketball; why do you have this?”

Rodrick pointed at the ball, having an answer. But first, he needed to swallow his food.

“I throw that at Greg’s head sometimes.” You let out a cackle, not expecting an answer like that. You threw the ball over your shoulder, letting it bounce back into the corner it came from.

“You know, I’ve never really celebrated Valentine’s Day before.” You confessed, although you were sure Rodrick already knew that. “But this is pretty fun.”

“Yeah, it is.” He responded, mirroring your smile. 

After your food was gone, you brought the candy hearts out of the convenience store bag. You opened the package, looking through them until you found one you liked.

“Here.” You said after a moment of looking, holding out a pink heart and dropping it in Rodrick’s hand. He looked at it and cooed.

“‘Be mine.’” He read before popping the candy in his mouth. “My turn.”

He looked through the little candy bag, soon pulling out a blue heart. After reading the message, he handed it to you.

“‘Kiss me.’” You read, looking back up at Rodrick to see him smirking at you.

“I think you gotta do what it says.” 

“I won’t argue with that.” You giggled, leaning forward to kiss Rodrick.

A hand threaded through your hair, the other holding your jaw to keep you close. Not wanting to lean over so much, you shifted on your knees until you were sat in Rodrick’s lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and the two of you made out until you were out of breath. When you pulled away, you caught sight of Rodrick’s mouth and giggled.

“What?” Rodrick asked, and he couldn’t help but laugh along even though he didn’t know what was so funny.

“Roddy, your tongue is purple!” The two of you laughed at the evidence of your affection. “Is my tongue purple too?” You stuck it out for him to check, and he clicked his tongue in faux disappointment.

“Could be purple-er.” Rodrick took a large sip of his blue slushie. “I can fix that though.” He said before kissing you again with fervor.

Let’s just say that you left the park with very purple tongues and warm cheeks.

***

Rodrick Heffley Taglist: @tweedledipshit

[ashotofogdensoldfirewhiskey]

Conclusions

Ginny's run out of her good parchment and has been reduced to using something she dug out of the bottom of her trunk, hating the way her quill scratches over the rough surface. As though it isn’t punishment enough to be writing about History of Magic, she’s got to do it on this piece of rubbish. 

“Bloody, buggering fu–” she swears as the point of her quill pierces a hole straight through her conclusion. Apt, probably - it had been flimsy at best. There’s a metaphor here, somewhere.

“Revision going well, then?”

The wry voice startles her so much that she nearly upends her bottle of ink all over her weak – in more ways than one – essay. “Fuck, Harry, I’d no idea you were there.”

She blinks up at him in surprise and finds him smirking, standing at the table she’s claimed in a corner of the library, looking adorably entertained by her plight. His bookbag is slung carelessly over his shoulder, his hair mussed, his stupid face made more handsome by the teasing lilt of his smile. Her heart flutters a bit, because that’s just what it always does with him. She ignores it valiantly, and hates him for it, a little. 

“Sorry,” he says, though he sounds more amused than anything. “Mind if I sit?”

“Course,” she says, gesturing to the seat opposite. “Can’t guarantee there won’t be more swearing, though.” 

He eyes her holey essay as he sits, jerking his head questioningly toward the parchment. “What’re you working on?”

“Something for Binns.”

“Ah, I’d be swearing, too.”

“Fucking hell, eh?”

They share a smile, and Ginny reckons she’d be better off writing an essay about that - the way she knows exactly when he’ll find something funny; the way jokes fall a bit flat when the punchline isn’t his eyes seeking her out, green and piercing and flickering with amusement. She’d fill the parchment with ease. 

It’s easy to write about something you can’t stop reading into. 

Just like she’s madly reading into the way he’s shown up here - no Ron, no Hermione - and sought her out, like it’s normal, like they’ve been doing this for years even though they haven’t. It feels like they have, though. That’s the worst part of it.

“What’re you doing here?” she asks, like he might just come right out and say it - to see you.

He doesn’t. She pretends that she can’t be disappointed by what she expects. 

“Transfiguration,” he says darkly. 

“Where’re Ron and Hermione, then?” she prods, picking at it like a scab, like a masochist. I wanted to get you alone, she urges him to say. I’ve been trying to all week and I haven’t even been subtle about it.

“Dunno,” he shrugs. Scabs bleed when you pick them, incidentally. “I can survive an evening without them, you know.”

“Can you? I don’t reckon your track record is all that spectacular on that front, if I’m honest.”

“Hey, I haven’t died even once.”

“Right,” she jokes. “Angling for a new nickname? ‘The Boy Who Hasn’t Died, Even Once’?”

He lets out a soft chuckle. “Rolls right off the tongue, that.”

“I’ll owl Rita for you. We can workshop something”

They smile.

She wants to shake him until he admits to it, confesses, like this thing brewing between them is a crime. She wants to lay all the evidence out in front of him, the aspiring Auror, and see what he makes of it. He can’t quip his way around the smiles and the banter and the looks he gives her. See, she’ll say, don’t you see?

He’s got shit vision. 

They sit together for far longer than she’d planned to stay. At some point he adjusts in his seat, and his foot winds up touching hers, and he doesn’t even have the decency to move it. She fancies she can feel his warmth through their trainers, but no - it must be her own traitorous heart, frantically pumping warm blood to her foot like it’s the only part of her body that needs it, like the parts of her that aren’t touching him have ceased to matter because maybe they have. 

Maybe she’s been distilled to the edge of her foot.

They talk about strategies for the Quidditch final, and OWLs, and argue playfully about which of her mum’s mince pies is the best. Ginny’s always fancied herself good at impressions, but she surprises even herself with her impression of easy nonchalance. All the while it’s building - each look, each smile, each easy joke they set each other up for feels like a firework she’s adding to the heap in her chest, ready to explode with the slightest spark. 

You’ve got me alone, she tells him. Do something about it.

It’s nearly curfew. They start gathering their things, and still he hasn’t done anything. If he were any other boy, Ginny would cut through the bullshit herself, but something holds her back. She can’t fully articulate, unravel, why, but she needs him to be the one to admit it. She needs him to decide she’s worth the risk. He’s meant to be brave, isn’t he?

As she’s packing it away, Ginny remembers her abandoned essay, still punctured pathetically. She sighs, holds it up for Harry’s evaluation. “Think Binns’ll even notice?”

“Give it here,” he says, and she hands it over. He pulls his wand from his robes and waves it wordlessly, the gaping tear sewing itself together so it might never have been there. Ginny doesn’t know why she hadn’t thought to do that herself. 

“Thanks. Only now, I’ve actually got to write a damn conclusion.”

He laughs and holds it back out to her. “You’re on your own.”

“Aren’t you meant to have a hero complex?” she quips, pushing the parchment back toward him. “Some useful saving-people thing? Have a go.”

To her immense surprise, he shoots her a wry smirk that sends a tingle through her stomach. “Alright.” He pulls out the quill he’d only just packed away, scrawls something at the bottom of her parchment, shielding it from view.  

She’s gone utterly daft. Her heart is hammering in her chest, beating a tattoo on her ribcage; she wonders if her fingers are trembling as they reach across to take her essay back, fully convinced she’ll find the words Go out with me scribbled there. 

In conclusion, he’d written, this essay is over.

She snorts, mostly at herself. She’s officially deluded. Cracked. What is wrong with her?

“Wow. Thanks for that,” she says drily. “How would Binns have known otherwise?”

He grins. “Anytime.”

“Totally unrelated, but do you offer refunds? Perhaps a voucher for another Harry Potter rescue at a later date?”

“Non-refundable. Sorry.”

“I’m going to be honest,” she lies. “I expected a better rescue than that.”

He shrugs. “You expect too much from The Boy Who Hasn’t Died, Even Once.”

She can’t help herself; she laughs. His eyes seek hers out - green, so green, twinkling with amusement and something that looks so fond. She’s going to set fire to the heap of fireworks in her chest, just to get it over with. She’ll explode in color, driven to madness by the boy who hadn’t died even once but who’d killed her, slowly, with smiles. 

In conclusion, she thinks, I’m utterly fucked.

[jayke0]

Do You Feel... Weird?

Pairing: Marc Spector x fem reader

Summary: kinktober day 4, Sex Pollen 

Rating: 18+

Warnings/content: sex pollen, chubby reader, yearning finally comes to fruition, friends to lovers, grinding, lots of swearing, protected sex (the pill), p in v, creampie, multiple orgasms, fucking everywhere, lmk if there's anything else i should add :).

Word count: 1,532 (yes they're getting longer)

Credit: @automnepoet for proofreading ily.

…………………………………………….......................

"What the fuck was that?" You ask, choking on the fine dust that'd just been blasted in your face.

Marc looks at you with concern and shakes his head. "Shit, I don't know, just stay there ok? Sit down." You feel his large hands push you down till you're sat on the cold stone and you roll your eyes; what's the point of him asking if he's just going to do it anyway?

You shouldn't be mad at him actually, you love how concerned he gets for you when you're on a mission together.

You watch him slink off, which is shortly followed by grunting and crashing and a whole lot of yelling, most of which is Marc's, but eventually he comes back, seemingly choking on the same stuff you'd been at the mercy of.

"Got you too huh?" You chuckle a little, since he always has a bit of a god complex about being able to fight anything and anyone.

"Yeah—" he rubs his throat with a wheeze, "c'mon, lets get the fuck outta here."

The drive home is quiet, but you keep glancing over at the man; is he getting hotter by the second? The way his curls are still sticking to his forehead is something you'd usually fix for him by pushing them out of his face, but right now it's just making you bite your lip. You notice how the veins and muscles in his arms are more prominent.. are they always like that? It's as if his blood is coursing through his body faster and harder than usual. His T-shirt is sticking to his body, exposing his toned chest and arms—

Good God, you wanna fuck him.

You're too busy eyeing him to notice the way that he's glancing at you himself, his eyes quickly switching between the road and your thighs, the way they're squished against the car seat makes his cock twitch in his jeans, and he has to rest his hand on his crotch just to hide his growing bulge.

"Marc, do you feel any... different?" You ask tentatively as you approach your front door. Usually this is when you'd say bye to him, but you just wanna drag him inside and make him fuck you over and over till you can't walk anymore, it's…

"Weird, yeah." He answers, and it's only when your eyes curiously drop to his crotch that you notice he must be feeling the same as you. "Oh, thank fuck." You chuckle; certainly the first time you've been relieved by an unwarranted boner.

"Sorry, I dunno what's wrong with me. Imma go home now, lets just pretend this never happened." He waves his hands wildly, which gives you the opportunity to grab his wrists.

"Please don't go... I—I want you." You mumble to him before slamming your lips into his.

Marc lets out a reassured sigh against your lips as he kisses you back with the same furiosity, his hands cupping your face to keep you there so he can lick into your mouth and taste you better.

Somehow, you make it all the way to your couch without tripping backwards, though maybe Marc's strong grip is enough to keep you from falling, instead pulling you towards himself as he scrambles to sit down and have you on his lap. You pull from his lips just to latch on to his neck and graze your teeth across his tanned skin. "What... was that stuff?" You ask as you lick at the salty skin.

"Dunno... some kinda aphrodisiac I guess." He responds while helping you pull your jacket off and rolling his hips against yours, which in turn makes his cock grind perfectly against your clit even through both of your jeans.

"Fucking hell, Marc," is all you can reply, your nerves feeling like they're on overtime as his tip butts that bundle of nerves. Honestly, you could just grind on him till you cum, but the isatiable feeling to have him inside you seems to be growing stronger by the fucking second.

"Shit, you're fucking hot like this, grinding against my cock, does it make you feel good?" You nod and Marc's hands roam underneath your shirt before pulling it off, exposing your chest spilling out of your bra due to not having readjusted it since the mission. "Oh fuck, your tits are just—" he doesn't get to finish his sentence before he's burying his face between them, biting and sucking whatever flesh he can get his mouth on while his other hand his occupied with groping your hips and tummy.

You groan softly and tug at his shirt to finally take it off as well and reveal his toned body. "Hooooly shit, Marc," you chuckle a little. "God damn, you're beautiful..." Your fingers run up and down his chest before your hands come to rest on his shoulders.

"Fuck me Marc, I need you inside me, like right fucking now."

Marc doesn't waste another second before he's tossing you back on the couch and practically ripping his jeans off. You can see how his cock is throbbing in his boxers and leaving a wet patch of precum, the sight makes your mouth water; if you didn't need him inside you so bad you'd offer to suck him dry instead… maybe later.

He's seemingly resorted to making animalistic grunts and growls as he hungrily scans your body and pulls your jeans down, just with a little more care than he did with his own, but your underwear doesn't get the same treatment. He literally tears them from your body which makes you gasp in surprise, and then whimper, fuck he's so hot like this. 

Somehow, he also manages to wiggle his boxers off during that, exposing his length to you, and fuck is he big. Usually you'd find a man with that size intimidating, but Marc has never looked more attractive to you, and the way his tip weeps for you only makes you squirm more and pull him down into a heated kiss.

"Wait wait..." he pants against the heat of your mouth, "are you on anything?"

You groan, but you know that future you will appreciate the fact he asked. "Yes, so just put it in already." You tug his hips and his cock notches against your clit, making you jolt and whimper and resulting in a moan from the man.

'Finally, fucking finally', you think to yourself as his fat cock slides inside you, stretching you out to the point it makes you tense up.

"I know, I know, just relax. I know it's a stretch... but fuck you're squeezing me so good." Marc moans, sliding deeper inside you until he eventually bottoms out.

You already feel fucked out just from the size of him, but as he draws his hips back and the blunt tip drags along your g-spot, you grip his shoulders to ask him for more; and he obliges.

Marc's pace is relentless, his hips working to fuck you open and practically impale you, and you love every second of it, your cunt twitching and throbbing around him. Your throat feels like it's throbbing as well, what with how loud you're moaning, each time his hips collide with yours it sends sparks through your entire body and yanks a strangled noise out of you.

It's barely been a couple of minutes before you're cumming hard on his cock, clenching around him and causing him to come undone too, filling you with more cum than you've ever felt spill from a guy. You don't feel him go soft though, instead it feels like he gets impossibly harder, and he gives you pleading eyes.

"Please baby, fuck it feels so good, lemme fill you up again." He says breathlessly.

"Ok, give it to me Marc, over and over." You reply, and he draws another orgasm out of you in just a matter of minutes.

You continue like that for the rest of the evening, you're bodies slapping together and filling your apartment with filthy noises while you use almost every surface available to you.

You fuck over the arm of the couch, Marc groping and marking the flesh on your ass and thighs as he ruins you from behind and makes you grip the couch pillows so hard it could tear the material. Even the floor isn't safe; you'd migrated to it after your legs gave out and couldn't hold you up any longer, so he simply laid you down with your ass in his lap and fucked you like that.

After hours, the effects finally start to wear off and you both end up collapsing on the couch again, this time to sleep. When you wake up you're greeted with a now fully dressed Marc cleaning you up gently. 

"Don't move, don't want you straining yourself, just stay there, ok?" He pats your thigh and helps you pull a new shirt on "I'll look after you, it's the least I can do."

'Maybe I should go on more missions with him', you think to yourself as you close your eyes again, a big smile spreading across your face.

…………………………………………….......................

Prompts by: @/flightlessangelwings

Tagging people: @cowboymarcs @sad1st1c-wh0re @poopoobuttsy @boredzillenial @mllover260 @simpforbritgents @saevenswelt @partssoldseparately @keira-kaz2y5 @theincredibleinkspitter @l-lune @red-hydra @queerponcho

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 19, Unfriended - Pt. 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mentions of sex, confrontation, uncovering of lies.

Word Count: 1.3k

Previously On...: Tony has a new mission for you, and everyone finds out you used to be a stripper.

A/N: CONFRONTATION TIME, BITCHES!

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when I update, please enable notifications from my Blog page!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

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You left the conference room with a better idea of what Tony was hoping you’d be able to accomplish, and you were feeling slightly optimistic for the first time all day: You actually had a chance to help women escape the hell you’d lived in for seven years, and you were going to do your damnedest to do right by them.

You hadn't gotten very far down the hallway toward the elevator when you felt the cold, vice-like grip of a vibranium hand take hold of your wrist and pull you into a storage closet.

"Jesus Christ, Barnes," you yelled, wrenching your arm out of his grasp and rubbing the skin where he'd grabbed you. "What the hell?"

"Funny, I was just about to ask you the same thing." His eyes were dark. He was angry at you. Of all the fucking nerve. He had the gall to be angry at you? "What the hell, Pocket? What was that back there?"

Well, you thought, I guess this is actually happening.

"Really?" you asked, your voice calmer than you could have ever imagined it being. "Can't think of a single reason I'd be upset with you?"

"What are you talking about?" he asked, seeming genuinely confused. "We were fine this morning. Fuck, we talked about getting place of our own, for Christ's sake."

"Yeah," you said, "that's not going to be happening. Ever." He had the audacity to look hurt.

"What do you mean?" He reached for you, but you pulled away from him, trying to put as much distance between you as possible in the cramped space. "Sweetheart, talk to me. Whatever's wrong, we can figure it out together."

"How was Russia, James?" you asked, ignoring the concern in his voice. "Anything... I dunno, exciting happen over there? Twice, maybe?" You watched with a sense of sick satisfaction as all the color drained from Bucky's face and a look of panic overtook him.

"I-I don't know what you mean," he stammered.

"Please," you scoffed. "If there's one thing we can both agree on, it’s that I’m not intellectually stupid. Emotionally? Obviously. But not intellectually. Don't insult my intelligence by acting like you don't know exactly what I'm talking about."

"Whatever Carthage told you," Bucky said, trying to draw close to you again, slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal, "she's lying to you."

"Oh, no worries-- Jade didn't tell me anything, so no need to follow through on your threat to kill her and make sure no one ever finds her body, which, by the way, what the actual fuck?!"

"Doll, you gotta understand," he began, but you cut him off.

“No,” you said, putting a hand up to keep the distance between you. “I’m tired of being understanding when it comes to you, James.” You watched him flinch at your use of his government name. Good. “I’m tired of giving you second chances you don’t deserve. I’m tired of your fucking lies. I am so tired of you.”

You reached into your pocket and took out his phone. “Here,” you said, shoving it into his chest, “you left this when you went to your debrief.”

Bucky clutched the phone, looking between it and you. “You… you went through it?”

“Of course I fucking did!” you seethed. “Imagine my surprise when I picked it up, planning on just pocketing it to give back to you when I next saw you, only to see a notification for a new message from Jade fucking Carthage. The girl whose number I blocked from this very phone. The girl who, you swore to me, you were never going to speak to or be alone with again. Imagine how absolutely devastating that was.”

“You weren’t supposed to read those messages,” Bucky said, his voice low and full of sorrow. “I never intended for you to see them.”

“Well, no fucking shit, Barnes,” you said, throwing your hands in the air. “Kinda defeats the point of having a secret affair if the girlfriend knows about it, doesn’t it?”

“But it wasn’t like that!” Bucky exclaimed, desperate for you to believe him. “I didn’t intend for it to happen. It was an accident! I never meant--"

"Oh, an accident? My bad; I didn't realize you'd 'accidentally' tripped and got your penis stuck in her vagina. Two fucking times." You were hit with a realization. "Was this why you didn't call me when you were supposed to? Why you never returned my messages? Were you lying about your phone dying?"

"Yes, but--"

"For fucks' sake, James!" You were shouting now. "I fucking knew something was going on between you two. I fucking KNEW it, but no, you assured me it was nothing, that I was overreacting. That you loved me. I thought I was losing my fucking mind with insecurity, and meanwhile you've been fucking her behind my back and feeding me bullshit about how much you wanted to be with me."

"Baby, no!" Tears began pooling in Bucky's eyes, but they didn't sway you. "I swear, Russia was the only time anything happened. I promise you."

"See, here's the thing: your promises don't mean shit, James," you spat. "I can't believe a word that comes out of your lying mouth. I'd ask you why, but I wouldn't believe whatever bullshit you'd tell me."

"Because I thought you were with Steve," he blurted out, as if desperately grasping for any chance at making you understand. "I saw the news articles from the gala, and I was so angry! I– I wanted to make you hurt as much as I thought you hurt me…"

His words left you momentarily speechless. "You took the word of fucking trash rag as gospel, thinking I would do that to you? That STEVE would do that to you? And before even thinking about talking it over with me, you decided the smart choice was to go balls deep in the one person who I've been begging you to stay away from for months? That you swore I didn't have to worry about?" God, he seemed so pathetic to you now. “You just made the executive decision that I was a piece of shit? I’ve been to enough therapy sessions to recognize projection when I see it.”

"I'm sorry! I know I fucked up. Please, please just tell me what I have to do to make this right. What can I do to fix this? I'll do anything. You want me to never speak to Jade again? Done."

"That's just it, James," you said, the fight leaving you. "There's nothing that you can do. This is over. We're done. I refuse to do this any longer."

"Sweetheart, please," he cried, "please, you can't mean that. Don't talk like that."

"James..."

"Stop calling me 'James'!" he sobbed. "'m not 'James,' 'm your Bucky. 'm always your Bucky."

You shook your head sadly. "'My Bucky' died the second you decided to sleep with her, and there's no bringing him back. Welcome to the consequences of your actions, James. I hope you and Carthage are happy together. You fucking deserve each other." You started for the door, but Bucky grabbed your wrist before you could grasp the handle.

"Please," he moaned, "this-- this can't be it. We can't end like this. We were supposed to be forever."

You pulled your hand out of his grasp and opened the door. "You should have thought about that before you broke my heart," you whispered. “Again.”

"I don't know how to live without you," he murmured.

"Well, you better figure out how to fucking start," you said as you made your way out the door. "When I get back from this mission, I'm moving out of the Tower. Alone." The idea had just come to you at that moment, but you knew it was the right thing to do. You couldn't stand to live under the same roof as Bucky any longer, let alone across the hall.

"But this is your home," he pleaded. "You don't need to leave it."

"You were my home," you told him. "I don't have one anymore." And you left him standing in the open doorway of the storage closet, alone and crying.

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