#i know this isn’t a confirmed cause yet but. come on.

[useless-englandfacts]

come to england! where we'll give you e coli after letting you swim in literal human shit! (x)

[cadavercowboy]

This is for Joseph Quinn…you big fat, white, nasty smelling fat bitch

[lovebugism]

istg that “just because you’re beautiful and a good kisser does not mean i forgive you.” “you think i’m beautiful?” is sooooo eddie coded.

i'm picturing a sorta enemies to lovers with eddie pulling yet another prank on reader (we all know this boy has the emotional maturity of a five year old when it comes to making a move on the girl he likes) but he really does hurt her feelings this time so he tries to make it up to her and they end up kissing.

from what you've written before i think you could put a great spin on this sorta scenario, if you feel like it <3

hope you like it! :D — you're eddie munson's biggest enemy. and, yes, you're also his soulmate. (enemies to lovers, secret relationship, 0.9k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

You storm into the bustling lunch room, having traded your pretty corseted blouse for a piece of oversized Corroded Coffin merch — definitely not by choice. “Do you have a death wish?” you ask when you reach the Hellfire table at the very back of the cafeteria, zeroed in on its leader at the head of it.

Eddie turns slowly, blinking up at you with innocent button eyes. His chews through the hamburger wadded in his cheek. “Potentially,” he answers, muffled before he swallows it down.

You huff, too easily frustrated. It isn’t any wonder why he likes to mess with you so much. “Where are my clothes?” 

“The ones you left on my bedroom floor last night or…?”

“No, you idiot— The clothes you stole from the girl’s locker room. Which makes you a total perv, by the way.”

“Oh, that sexy little number?” he croons, turning in his seat to face you more. “It’s in my locker, actually.”

“Well, get it out,” you say with gritted teeth.

He thinks for a moment, pursing his lips to the side. “Hm… I don’t think I will.”

Your jaw tightens. “Why?”

“‘Cause it’s a little revealing, don’t you think?”

“Well, yeah, that’s kinda the point, Munson.”

He smacks his lips against his teeth, then scrunches the bridge of his nose. He wags a sarcastic, ringed finger at you. “See— Those aren’t the values a nice girl like you should have—”

“God, you’re infuriating,” you groan and stomp off again.

Eddie smiles to himself while he watches you go, cheek tilted lazily to his shoulder. The only thing he likes better than seeing you come (in more ways than one) is watching you leave.

He sighs a deep, contented sigh and turns back to the rest of the table. They’re all wide-eyed and silent, still musing on the sudden interaction with the disbelief that it had happened at all.

Eddie only grins, wider this time. “Ah… She’s obsessed with me.”

—————

By the end of the school day, your blouse hasn’t yet been returned to you. You’re still stuck in the stupid shirt Eddie had left for you — all black, too big, and obviously his. You know it belongs to him because you’ve worn it thousands of times while sleeping over at his place. It smells just like him, like weed and cologne and boy.

You’re heading towards the exits when a hand pulls you into an abandoned classroom around the corner — pale, ringed, and lanky. As if you needed any further confirmation it was Eddie Munson. 

You stumble in, and he locks it behind you.

“Don’t you think you’ve bothered me enough today?” you squint.

“Oh, so you don’t want your shirt back?” he teases, waving the thing in his free hand. You reach for it, and he snatches it back, smirking softly down at you. “Uh-uh. What’s the magic word, sweetheart.”

“Give me my shirt back,” you answer in a monotone.

“Not even close, but I’ll give you a kiss for it.”

You sigh like it’s a chore for you and lean in to kiss his cheek. Your lips just barely graze his stubbly jaw. Eddie shrugs. “You missed, but I’m feeling nice today, so—”

You snatch it from him when he hands it to you. “You can’t keep doing this, Eds. We’re supposed to hate each other.”

“Well, one, we do hate each other. Obviously,” he scoffs and leans back on one of the desks. It shifts under his weight, and he stumbles. He decides to sit on it completely while you laugh. “And two, this was, like, a genius prank on my end. I made my arch nemesis walk around in my shirt all day— you’re not giving me enough credit for this, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, except I got called the freak’s girlfriend all day.”

“By who?”

“Who do you think?”

He ponders for a moment. “…Jason?”

You nod, all slow because it’s obvious. The only one who hates Eddie more than you do is Jason Carver. You wonder if he’s secretly in love with the town freak, too.

“Well, it’s about time he knows who you belong to,” the boy says with a laugh. “He’s only been trying to get with you for two years.”

You cross your arms over your chest. “I don’t belong to anyone— I’m not a toy.”

“Well, yeah— only when you wanna be,” Eddie teases, reaching out for you. His ringed fingers curl around your wrist to pull you closer. You sigh in annoyance but walk between his thighs anyway.

“You’re so annoying.”

Eddie grins, pink and boyish. “But you like me anyway. So who’s the real loser?”

“I thought we hated each other,” you quip with narrowed eyes.

“I was kidding— Just kiss me.”

You giggle quietly and lean in to peck his lips. He tastes like nicotine and spearmint, mouth soft like flower petals. You get lost in him too easily. One peck becomes two — then three — then a longer, languid, and more drawn-out thing.

You feel Eddie smile against you, knowing he’s won now that you’re melting for him. You pull away with a smack when you regain your senses.

“Just because you’re pretty and a good kisser, doesn’t mean I forgive you, by the way. You know that, right?”

“Mhmm,” he hums mindlessly, already leaning forward to kiss you again.

You pull softly back. “And that I’m totally getting you back for this?”

“Yep.” He pecks your lips once, with a lot more self-restraint than you’d had. “So… When are you coming over to get the clothes you left at my place last night?”

[lordgrimoire]

So, an Idea, or AU I had regarding the good ol DPxDC.

I’m not sure what sort of disaster Amity’s ghost problem would be classified as, but think of what would happen if the local EMS (Emergency Services like Fire Departments, Law Enforcement, Emergency Medical, etc.) pretty much started jumping over the Mayor from the get-go? What if hard proof of these hijinx, for a brief time, were able to get out of Amity?

Well the Governor would probably have someone take a look, and once nonsense is confirmed (especially of its weird nonsense that looks a little to close to supers) they send in the National Guard, at first to keep an eye on the situation.

Then comes the Ghost Investigation Ward, and things go from moderately worrying to “WTF” real quick. And things start looking less Small Town USA and more Stalins Town USSR, at the height of Stalins Purges.

Admittedly it’s not immediate, and during the time between being put on “Indefinite Alert” and actually being relived this unit (I’m thinking a Battalion Sized force so about 1,200 soldiers/guardsmen total) ends up befriending the locals, and much to the Mayor, and GIWs, frustration, Phantom, as well as Red Huntress.

This leads to a standoff, the GIW can really only do what they want because of the Governments permission for them to do so, but engaging National Guard, who had not been federalized, may cause an issue or two. So they bring up the issue with someone who they think will back them up, their new boss Lex Luthor.

Now Lex isn’t a fool, but he figures out how the Justice League isn’t being called is due to a jammer the GIW set up and figures he can take a look around incognito like, or more accurately get trusted members of The Goonion, who he had Federally given approval to, to go take a look around.

When Alex gets the full story, and not just the GIWs original story but also updated info from the Doctors Fenton, who are now VERY worried, because they were wrong about Ghosts in more ways than they originally thought they may have been. Suffice to say, when Lex manages to get a copy of "The History of The Infinite Realms" and finds that Krypton's Afterlife is GONE, as in they did something similar to what the GIW is planning, he starts hitting the "Abort" Button with fury. Only to be told "Too late we're underway, we're going through a tunnel, what? What?" And now Lex decides Enough is Enough. Lex does two things, first he sends the GO order for the National Guard Battalion in Amity Park, then he starts trying to get a hold of the Justice League because "Listen I know you dislike me but I am willing to drop it all if you HELP WITH THIS BS THAT I JUST INHERITED!" Meanwhile back in Amity Things go from 0 to 100 faster than an Flash, that being the National Guard heard "GO" and immediatly started blasting. The Townfolks: Confused The Ghosts: Confused Team Phantom: Confused and Afraid The Ghost Hunters who are now studying Ghost Culture and the like: Very Confused and sorta getting Arrested. The GIW: Full of Bullet Holes, Screaming, and On Fire Meanwhile, The National Guard are waiting around two hours later with Phantom for any "Federal" News to come through: So the New President decided the Anti-Ecto Acts are BS, unfortunately they haven't been overturned yet so we're all most likely going to be marked as traitors. Mind if we hide out somewhere our bosses can't find us? Also the Justice League never actually knew any of the BS we've been going through, GIW Had some Jammer set up.

Phantom, Tired of all the damage and killing the GIW has caused in Amity Park: I'll try, but I'm not sure how much good it will do if the League shows up.

TLDR: Amity Park during it's entire run has a Battalion of US National Guard camped out in the outskirts/abandoned parts of town and they figure out most of the situation regarding Phantom not being the Villain Mayor Masters and the GIW Claim him to be. Following this logic they turned around and at the first opportunity attacked the GIW and pushed them out of Amity Park.

[chiliyue-archived]

cause i love to love, to love, to love you

↬ in which you have him all lovesick and smiles

includes; dazai, chūya, atsushi, fyodor

notes; i am gonna pretend i didn’t disappear for 2-3 months. this has been in my drafts for so long :( i tried to clean it up as much as i could but it’s really old jfjdks

DAZAI

dazai appears happy. present tense.

his typical inquiries for double suicides came to lessen to conscious degree, substituting in drinking sake together when the sun cowers, nothing but a string of nonsensical chatter proceeding each sip.

he was sticky like that: unannounced visits, impromptu phone calls, sudden changes in his schedule to accommodate yours. in any case, he isn’t one to shy from stooping as low as whining if it rewards him with your familiar face.

( his windpipes splinter before he could mutter it out loud, but the solitude that’s wedged deep in his bones for so long felt lighter when you were near. he questions how long such benevolence would last before becoming sullied by his hand… ).

…and yet all things considered, it hasn’t deterred him from courting you nonetheless. at times he can’t help but think he’s taken a bite of his own medicine when he’s the one skipping around like a helpless maiden.

and yet again in spite of it all, his brazenness remains perpetually untouched as ever. he entertains different approaches if only to coax out a new reaction from you and he’s not bashful in the slightest. so much so, he remains unruffled even under the scrutiny of your coworkers.

. . .

“ this is highly unprofessional.”

“ don’t be so mean, bella. don’t you know how much i missed you?”

your eyes flit down to the man currently using your lap as a headrest, the rest of his body stretching over the expanse of the couch. he was shameless, that much was certain, but his ability to remain unperturbed whilst in his lovey dovey state was impressive. you cocked a brow, sighing.

“ osamu.” his lips visually twitched at the call of his name; it’s a word warm on your tongue but leaves the hairs on his nape at your mercy anyway. " you saw me fifteen minutes ago—”

“ twenty.” he corrected, cheeky (and quite frankly, you wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled that number out his ass). “ but it was the longest twenty minutes of my life.”

he was unrepentant as ever, experimentally positioning his head to rest on the plush on your thighs. by muscle memory, he began to absently draw shapes wherever he could reach, a crude rendition of stars decorating over the bend of your knee.

he smiles innocently when you squint at him, the gleam in his eyes unwavering. “ only a couple more minutes and i would have been yours,” you mutter out, your voice not as sturdy as you hoped. “ at home.”

dazai almost turns pouty at that. almost. “ but my love, i’ve missed you like crazy. twenty minutes is too long, how can i possibly manage?” the words come out through a breathy exhale and you watch as his lashes kiss his cheeks when he flutters them closed. “ all i could think about is you. and now i have you right here.” he hopes his words carry as much truth as the way his heart does, scurrying away the cold that's mocked him for so long. “ can’t we just stay like this a little longer? pretty please?”

resigned to your fate, you could only clamor your palms over your features— if only to salvage your waning dignity from your coworkers.

unfortunate though… that in doing so you miss the blissful smile curling on his lips as he peeks at you from below. and atsushi notes(after throughly grimacing, not expecting him to be so blunt), it reaches his eyes too.

CHŪYA

" chūya-"

" you can't flirt with me. i have a partner."

terse, stubborn and slurred. if the groggy voice wasn’t enough to confirm your suspicions, the shit-face look belonging to your boyfriend did. he was drunk. wasted if you were to speak bluntly.

in truth, it really doesn’t come off as much of a surprise; his ability to hold his liquor was nothing to brag of (despite what he may profusely argue) and you’re half-convinced he’s already forgotten his own name.

still, you don’t loosen your grip on his sleeve even under the figurative holes he’s burned with his stare. “ chūya. i am your partner.”

“you—! wha-!” his voice erupts into a sudden warble, eyes akin to saucers. " you… you are??"

he takes what’s left of his thinning rationality to study you proper; the style of your hair, your clothing, the smell of perfume/cologne, the familiar quirk of your lips—

oh, he thinks as you push back the loose bangs veiling his face. he doesn’t make any attempts to move, feet stalled and eyes blinking, evidently stunned.

you decide to press on. “ do i look familiar now…?” the lilit of your voice grazes against his ear, plucking out a faint memory tucked somewhere in the crevice of his fuzzy head.

oh. he thinks twice, the stern look bruising his face thawing.

without realizing it, he squares his shoulders in any attempt to remedy his current disheveled appearance, slumped posture pulled taut in— what he hopes— was a more put together frame. conversely, he wobbles on his feet when you continue to eat away at the distance, the ghost of your touch pushing pinpricks into his skin.

“ you’re- you’re really all mine…?” he cringes as soon as it leaves his mouth, coming off eager and hopeful. something like a laugh escapes you and he can’t tell if that’s what made his stomach turn or the alcohol. perhaps both.

“ that’s what i’ve been trying to tell you. you’re so stubborn when you’re drunk.” you punctuate the words with a kiss to his cheek, now warm with revelation. chūya, exhausting the last bits of his energy, shrinks beneath it, a gloved hand clutching his reddened face defensively.

“ why haven’t i made you my spouse yet?” he remarks it so suddenly, you nearly choke on air. he can’t even comprehend what you say thereafter or register the look beginning to contort your features, nothing but liquid courage keeping him afloat.

but- well, if there’s anything the haze trotting his head and his thinning cognition could agree on, it’s that your ring finger appears a little too barren for his liking.

( but not for much longer, he hopes )

ATSUSHI

the sudden change in atsushi’s behavior was a notable observation within the ADA, many of whom watched as the weretiger became stupefied by a face belonging to you. it wasn’t long before concluding it was all the result of a crush; the culprit of which being atsushi himself who played his hand poorly at discretion.

the lovesick chatter would leave his mouth without much rationality, waxing of "[name] this" or "[name] that," and effectively becoming on the receiving end of his praises. it was almost a routine of sorts, occupied by stutters, belated responses and his fidgety footfalls. by the end of it, he fruitlessly attempts to steady his rabbiting heart— if only to stop his blush from staining beyond his cheeks.

even now as he silhouettes by the agency door, the rattle of rain is deafened by the rush of blood to his ears. he anxiously worries the handle of the umbrella in his palms, bouncing from one sole of his feet to the other. should he just ask you? maybe he should wait… now that he thinks about it would be more appropriate to just leav—

“ damn it.” he perks at your sound of displeasure, his heart spiking. “ so much for leaving in a hurry…” you stiffen, realizing you have nothing but a coat protect you from the weather. the flimsy jacket you hurriedly plucked from your wardrobe only added flavor to your disappointment.

atsushi doesn’t miss the opportunity; his feet carries him to you before the unpleasant voice lurking deep in his subconscious bullies him otherwise. “ we can share,” he gestures to his own, silently praying his voice was leveled. it wobbles anyway and by now his knuckles are sheen white as a product of his nerves.

with the organ jumping around in his chest, he almost doesn’t register your ‘thank you,’ only that his fingers were quickly undoing the straps of the umbrella before you could change your mind ( he impulsively bought it earlier that day— his previous pair worned out and far too tiny for two people. but when you thank him with a kind smile, hands slightly brushing with each step, he argues it was the best 800 yen he’s ever spent ).

… that said, a more appropriate question is how you managed to remain naive to all his pining for so long— he’s become despairingly obvious against his own good and yet he can’t find it in himself to change himself, a perpetual lovesick look copy and pasted whenever you entered his proximity.

the same can't be said to everyone else however and he wasn’t particularly pleased when he caught wind of the bets exchanged among his treacherous colleagues. he fears it's only a matter of time before one of them blabs their tongue to you. at this rate, perhaps one of them should.

. . .

" y'know atsushi," ranpo once said, offering his companion a gleaming simper. " you reallllyyy talk about [name] a lot."

"oh.”

his heart flutters, eyes slowly blinking.

" yeah,” he smiles. “ i guess i do.”

FYODOR

" you've been awfully quiet, my dear." fyodor’s voice was just loud enough over the sound of clashing cutlery, fixing you a gaze of genuine interest. " is the meal not to your liking?"

you feel your lips twist into a frown. for being attentive, he (for once) falsely saunters pass the source of your displeasure, failing to recognize the extent of your internal woes. " no- no-" you fidget with your fingers, ignoring the way your propped elbows skidded against the table. the behaviour doesn't go unnoticed by the former, who takes it upon himself to hook his index fingers with yours. “ there’s something i’ve been meaning to ask of you. a… request of sorts.”

“ what is it? i’ll have it shipped to you by the end of the week,” he offers generously though it quickly fades into a confused hum when you shake your head at the proposition.

" it isn’t something you can buy…” you drop your gaze from him to the scantly poked portions of cuisine on your plate. fearing he may misinterpret your words and assume it to be unattainable - perhaps gifting you something ludicrous as a piece of land - you amended quickly. " it’s not what you assume to be either.”

at that, he bums questioningly. “ then what displeases you, my darling?” he provides a faint squeeze to your hand, igniting something warm and paradoxical to his thin layer of frigid skin. “ what can i offer to rid you that frown?”

" just your company.”

" my company?"

" yes." perplexed, he cocks his head; an invitation. willing an inhale to your lungs, you took a moment to gather possession of your words. “ these days you've been rather occupied. i was hoping for perhaps… if we may spend some time together?"

fyodor appears vaguely surprised by that, something unfamiliar fortifying around him. requesting his time felt like a hefty expenditure just in itself and it wasn’t too far fetched to assume he’ll disregard it in favor of some plot embellishing deep within his brain. but a swift refusal never comes.

“ i see,” he finally says after a brief pause. his voice was so soft you wondered if it was meant for you to hear.

it's grows quiet before he speaks again, the fingers curled around your hand withdrawing but not before providing the tips a delicate squeeze. " i can arrange some time tomorrow for you,” he proffers. “ will that satisfy your request, myshka?"

hardly anything can catch fyodor off guard, but something had to be said in the way you brightened at the suggestion, a deep curve coasting over your lips. how pleasant you are.

" yes," you hastily replied, dipping your head slightly. " more than perfect. thank you."

the way your lineaments crossed into a smile was always enduring to observe — exasperated, but one he wouldn’t mind seeing tomorrow knowing he was the cause for such elation.

( idly, he wonders what he can do to see it again ).

A/N !

i’ve been meaning to post this for months but it’s so old & i never quite (and still kinda don’t) liked it :(( fyodor’s is bit ooc jfjdkskla

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[declareqenius]

stitched up

warnings: blood, stitches

summary: you were sent on a mission with your father, tony stark, but something went wrong with the new prototype, resulting in you being injured. wanda needs the closeness and the confirmation that you’re right in front of her, but natasha’s emotions nearly get the better of her. 

a/n: this is not how i wanted to end this originally, but i’m having some writer’s block and just wanted to post something again. i may do a part two but it depends on if y’all would like to see a part two or not! 

“If your arm wasn’t bleeding this much, and if my mind and heart didn’t ache every time I glanced away from you, your father would be hanging from the ceiling by his ankles.” 

Of course, leave it to your girlfriend to say something so poetic, yet so vulgar, in a semi-serious situation. 

Wanda’s arms are crossed as she worriedly checks over the rest of your body, trying to keep herself from peeking at the gushing blood coming from your shoulder. The only thing that holds her back from storming down the hallway in search of your father is her need to see that you’re going to be okay. Meaning she has to sit there and watch on as Bruce slowly stitches the gash shut.

“We both know you would do so much worse than that, Wands.” You try to mask your slight wince with a cheeky grin, but of course your girlfriend notices. 

“You’re right. I think I’ll let Natasha have her fun first.” She makes it sound like a joke, however you both know it’s far from such a thing.

Wanda’s eyebrows are still tightly furrowed together, her eyes constantly checking over you as if the second she looks away some new injury will magically appear. Even though you’re the one covered in blood with the stitching needle in their arm, you can’t help but want to comfort her. 

“Hey, love,” you gently place your first finger under her chin and guide her head until her eyes meet yours, “I’m alright. It’s okay.” 

She searches deeply within your eyes, and it’s a miracle you maintain eye contact with her. The sheer build up of love, worry, and warmth you find within her soft green irises takes you aback.

“It shouldn’t have happened.” 

She says it so firmly. The sentence is so contradictory to the emotions she showed you seconds ago. The feelings she only allows you and Natasha- your other, probably furious, redheaded girlfriend- to read and memorize, to know like the back of your hands. 

Her Sokovian accent is thick, which only happens when she’s scared, angry, or safe. And, right now with Bruce in the room, you know it’s a combination of the first two. 

“You’re right, as always,” you give her a smile, which she mirrors, and you stow the memory away as a small victory. “But it did happen. And there’s nothing we can do about it now except let Bruce stitch me up, okay? I’ll be good as new afterwards. Right, Bruce?” 

Your eyes don’t leave Wanda’s because you know looking at Bruce will somehow make the stitching process hurt more. 

The man only gives a nod and soft grunt of approval. 

“See? Nothing to worry about, my dear.” 

“Nothing to worry about, huh?” 

A calloused voice cuts through the room. You’re the first to snap your head up and break the heartfelt moment with Wanda. The quick movement causes Bruce to tug the stitches more than intended, and you close your eyes and take in a slow, deep breath. The soft hand soothingly running along your uninjured arm is the only thing keeping you completely grounded at the moment.

“Cause from where I’m standing, detka, it looks like something we should be worried about.” 

Once you open your eyes again, they immediately fall upon Natasha, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed and undoubtedly pissed off. 

You’re aware her anger isn’t directed at you. You know _why _she’s pissed. Your emotions would most definitely get the better of you if either one of your girlfriends was injured and you couldn’t do anything to prevent it. It would be worse if you could have prevented it.

The certainty of your words and relaying the facts to her wouldn’t calm her down, but you know there’s no calming her down on your part. Not when you’re sitting on a stool injured and had to be carried to the med bay so you wouldn’t bleed to death.

“HYDRA got the jump on us, Nat. We weren’t expecting it and there was nothing that could have been done to ensure our safety. You know that. We had the Iron Man suit and the counteract prototype with us, and that’s it. Dad decided to use the prototype because it was all we had. It malfunctioned and I didn’t have enough time to move out of the way after the HYDRA agent pushed me towards it.” 

You’re clear with all of your words and your voice never wavers, nor does your eye contact. Natasha may be the Black Widow, and only a very select group of people could ever talk to her the matter-of-fact way you just did, but sometimes she needs a reminder that things happen no matter how much one tries to prevent them. 

“He could have kept you safe. That should have been his priority. You’re his daughter, Y/N. That’s way more important than barging into an intel mission unprepared! With only a prototype, no less. Especially when it puts your life in danger!” 

The two of you hold eye contact with each other for a few seconds until you glance away and focus on watching Bruce finalize his stitch-work. Watching the needle thread through your skin makes the pain undeniably worse, but you can’t seem to force yourself to look at your girlfriends. 

You don’t see the guilt-ridden regret that crosses Natasha’s features before she looks at the floor beneath her.

Tony wasn’t unprepared for the mission. Neither were you. Both of you surveyed the perimeter twice. Both of you were careful at every corner you turned. HYDRA just happened to outsmart two of the smartest people in the world.

Minutes later and Bruce finishes stitching your left shoulder up. Natasha stands at the door impatiently and Wanda watches her but still makes sure to have some physical contact with you. 

“Alright,” Bruce stands from his chair, “twenty-five stitches. No major physical activity for the next two weeks. That includes missions, working out, and... I don’t have to say it. Let’s give the wound time to heal itself, okay?” 

You nod and thank him before he takes his leave, passing by a very guilty, annoyed Natasha.

“Natalia, podoydi syuda, pozhaluysta.” 

Wanda is the first to speak once Bruce leaves, and you’re grateful she took the initiative. Neither of them like seeing you hurt since both have lost so much in their short lives, but Natasha eats herself up over your injuries. She always thinks she’d be able to do something to prevent them, especially in the field. Wanda’s reactions are slightly more reasonable, but her worry gets the best of her and she often needs physical contact to remind herself you’re still there. 

Natasha begrudgingly takes a seat next to Wanda, who immediately holds out her hand to give the former assassin the option of physical contact. Your shorter girlfriend hesitates before she gently take Wanda’s left hand in her right but makes no move to touch you or glance in your direction. 

The chairs they sit in are lower than your stool, and part of you finds it funny that you’re the one that’s been placed in that position. 

“Moglo byt’ gorazdo khuzhe,” Natasha mutters, staring at her boots and focusing on the way Wanda’s thumb rubs back and forth along the back of her hand.

It could have been much worse.

“Odnako eto bylo ne tak. Ona vse yeshche zdes', i my nuzhny yey pryamo seychas.”

It wasn’t, though. She’s still here and she needs both of us right now.

Wanda’s voice is soothing as she softly speaks to Natasha. 

You let them have their moment and offer the Sokovian a small smile when she sends a gentle wink your way. 

Both know you don’t understand the conversation. You’ve picked up some basic Russian, words or phrases they say a lot, but when they get into full conversations and larger sentences, all you can do is either pretend you’re busy or sit and watch their facial expressions to gauge the nature of the conversation.

They speak a minute longer and Natasha starts relaxing. Her furrowed brows even out, her drawn lips ease into a relaxed expression, and her eyes- although still holding an ounce of anger- start to glisten. She finds the need within herself to look at you, check you over for any other injuries- although Wanda has done that several times over- and finally, search your beautiful eyes with her own. 

“Nat-” 

You move to speak, wanting to voice your concerns and reassure both of them you’re okay even though they can see you sitting here in front of them. However, Natasha stands from her seat and takes a step over to you. She keeps her eye contact with you and gently, with a slight nod of confirmation from you, she slots herself between your legs. Her hand comes up to your cheek and she notices a small bruise forming above your eyebrow. It makes her eyes water a little more. 

“I’m sorry, muy lyubov. You’re injured and I’ve been acting like a dick. I won’t apologize for wanting to keep you safe, or wanting to make Tony pay for his lack of common sense, but I will apologize for directing my anger toward you. You didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry, detka.” 

“It’s okay, Nat. I forgive you. I understand why you were so angry, I mean, I would be too if you or Wands were in my position. So, I get it, but next time I need you to try and talk to me, okay?” 

Natasha nods her confirmation, and you know from the look in her eyes that she’s determined to work on her communication with both you and Wanda. 

“Thank you, my love.” 

Sometimes you all understand each other in different ways and need each other for different things, but in the end, the three of you fit together like nothing anyone has ever seen. The journey has been long and will continue to be, but none of you would have it any other way. 

Natasha’s eyes are still teary, and you can’t help but tilt your head up just enough to catch her lips in a slow, soft kiss. Enough to remind her that she’s forgiven and that you’re not going anywhere. You break apart after a few moments and see Nat’s small smile. It could be better, but you’ll take it for now. However, you notice Wanda getting impatient after having watched you kiss Natasha. 

You look over at Wanda with a grin on your face, “Anything you’d like to say, Wands?” 

“My turn.” 

Wanda gets up from her chair and stands to the left of Natasha. She gently cups your left cheek with her right hand and kisses you much like you did Natasha, except with more fervor- as if she could express gratitude for your life through a kiss. When she pulls away there’s a smile on both of your faces, and her eyes have replaced worry and anger with unconditional love. 

It never ceases to amaze you how willingly and openly your girlfriends give themselves to you. 

[corroded-hellfire]

Sight for Sore Eyes - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish Story

Summary: With both of Eddie's sons having respective issues at school, you feel more a part of the family than ever when all of the Munsons want you by their side.

Note: I thought this up in the middle of the night when I couldn't sleep, now here we are. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: mentions of bullying, mentions of violence, mentions of blood, dad!eddie, older!eddie

Words: 5.2k

[As You Wish masterlist]

It’s family movie night in the Munson house, but unlike most other quality times with you and the boys, Eddie can’t focus on the film that’s playing on the television. Ryan brought home yet another disappointing progress report. Not only is that unusual for his eldest son, but it’s also frustrating because when Ryan comes home to do his homework, he always understands it. Be it you or Eddie who goes over it with him once he’s finished, both of you can confirm that the kid knows his stuff. So why are his grades suffering?

At first, Eddie was concerned that Ryan was being bullied. He had brought up to you the idea of teaching Ryan how to fight, but you insisted it would be better to talk to Ryan’s teacher and see if she noticed anything. Mrs. Renner told Eddie that she had not seen anything out of the ordinary, but she would keep a special eye on Ryan. After two weeks of observing Ryan and other students throughout the day, she was able to report back to Eddie that everyone seems to like Ryan and he had no problems with anyone those entire two weeks. It was a relief, but Eddie was back to square one. 

Possibilities still running through his mind like crazy, Eddie absent-mindedly rubs his thumb across the small strip of your skin exposed as your t-shirt rides up. 

“My powers are beyond your mortal imagination. For instance, my eyes can see straight through your armor. Oooh! All right, that's it! Dishonor! Dishonor on your whole family! Make a note of this. Dishonor on you, dishonor on your cow, dis…”

The small, red dragon's rant barely registers in Eddie’s mind as his eyes trail over to Ryan, sitting on the other side of you. His son’s face is all scrunched up as he looks towards the television, his small body even leaning as forward as he can in his seat. Eddie’s brows furrow as he watches Ryan for a few moments, and the boy’s facial muscles don’t move at all.

“Uh, bud? Ry? Can you see the TV okay?” Eddie asks. 

“It’s kinda blurry, isn’t it?” Ryan asks, scrunching his face up to squint even more. “Is it ‘cause it’s an old TV?”

You swivel your head towards your boyfriend and the two of you share a knowing look. Eddie’s shoulders sag with relief, a simple solution to an issue that’s nagged at him for weeks may be within reach. 

“It’s not blurry,” Luke blurts out from his place on the floor in front of the couch. His Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle coloring book is flipped open in front of him, half colored and half covered in butter stains from the six-year-old’s fingers that keep digging into the popcorn bowl. “TV’s fine,” Luke follows up, spewing a few kernels out of his full mouth. 

Movie pushed from your mind at this new revelation you may have stumbled upon, you turn yourself on the couch to face Ryan better. Eddie adjusts his arm that was around you to simply wrap his arm around your middle and lets his fingers glide softly over the cotton of your t-shirt. 

“Um, Ryan?” you ask, watching his adorable little face as it pinches up this way and that to watch the animated singing soldiers on the television. “Where do you sit in your class?”

Now Ryan’s face just scrunches up in confusion; to him, this question came out of nowhere. 

“By the bulletin board and the bathroom key hanging on the wall. Right behind Lorraine Poe,” he says.

“Oh, sweetie, no, I meant, like, towards the front, towards the back…” you trail off. 

“Kinda middle I guess,” Ryan answers with a shrug, turning back towards the movie. 

Eddie lets out a gentle sigh and you lean your body back against his. His large, warm hand rubs over your belly for a moment as he watches his son’s profile.

“Can you see the board okay?” Eddie asks. “At school?”

“Sometimes,” Ryan answers, the song in the movie pulling most of his focus. 

“Sometimes?” his dad questions.

“Yeah. Sometimes my teacher writes so small that I can’t always see what it says, though.”

You frown and tilt your head down onto Eddie’s shoulder.

“Have any of the other kids said anything about her writing being too small?” you ask. 

“No.”

“Ry?” Eddie clears his throat. “I think maybe we should take you to an eye doctor.”

This captures the eight-year-old’s attention back from the screen. He pulls his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around them. It makes your heart ache at how small and vulnerable he looks like this, the fear of going to the doctor evident on his cherubic face. 

“Why?” he asks softly. 

“Well, it sounds like you’re having trouble seeing. The board at school is blurry, the television here is blurry,” Eddie points out. 

“I don’t want to go.” Ryan shakes his head.

“Why not, sweetie?” you ask as you reach forward to move some hair off of his forehead. 

Ryan’s fingers start to fidget where they’re pressed up against his jeans and he begins to gnaw on his lower lip—a few nervous habits he picked up from his father.

“What if there’s something wrong with my eyes?” he asks in a small voice. 

“Ryan, honey.” You lean forward out of Eddie’s grip so you can wrap your arms around the eldest Munson brother. “There is nothing wrong about needing some help to see. Plenty of people do.” You hold him against your chest and rub your hand up and down his arm soothingly.

“I don’t want glasses,” he mumbles. 

Being a kid is hard enough already. Add how soft spoken Ryan is and add new glasses on top of it, and you can understand where he’s coming from. Some jerky kids might say some mean things. But that’s not a reason he shouldn’t get his eyes checked out. 

“Hmm,” you muse. “You know, I can think of a very special little boy who wears glasses. He’s probably the coolest kid there is besides you and Luke.” 

“Who?” Ryan is clearly curious, but still hesitant about where you’re going with this. 

“You don’t know?” you ask him with a smile. “You only read about him every night before you go to bed.”

Ryan gasps in delight, sitting straight up in your arms. 

“Harry Potter!” The excitement on his face has your heart gushing from the inside out.

“The Boy Who Lived!” you cheer. “He’s a super powerful wizard and he needs glasses to see.” 

A shy but genuine smile starts to appear on Ryan’s face and Eddie subtly gives your waist a small squeeze of appreciation. 

“There’s also Superman,” Eddie adds. 

“Clark Kent wears the glasses,” Luke corrects his father, eyes never leaving the TV. You do your best to hold in a giggle; wherever Eddie’s geeky knowledge ends, Luke’s begins. 

“And Clark Kent is Superman,” Eddie says, picking up a piece of popcorn and tossing it at the back of Luke’s head. 

Ryan seems more at ease now, his body posture more relaxed and less rigid as he settles back into the couch cushions. You go to snuggle back into Eddie’s side when Ryan looks up at you with those big brown eyes that are identical to his father’s and slips his small hand into yours. 

“Will you go with me?” he asks, voice soft.

You could almost cry at the question. He wants you to go with him. The love and trust he has in you in this moment of fear and uncertainty means the world to you. Eddie doesn’t miss the emotion on your face at the comfort you bring to his son. He knows he’s so lucky to have you, the woman of his dreams, but the fact that you and the kids wholeheartedly love each other as well? It’s enough to make Eddie tear up any time he thinks about it for too long.

Before you give Ryan an answer, you look at Eddie, wanting to make sure that this is okay with him and that you’re not overstepping. Eddie gives you a nod, his eyes shining with pure adoration.

“Of course I will, Ry.” You press a kiss to the top of his head, and he then lays it down on your shoulder.

“Thank you,” he answers, just loud enough for you to hear.

There’s no reason he has to thank you. This moment, this trust and love he’s giving to you as a parental-type role means the world to you. You’re clearly not the babysitter anymore—you’re their dad’s girlfriend, but a new relationship is blossoming between you and the boys as well. The strong ties that always bonded you and the kids are being bronzed, never to fray or be broken. This is starting to feel in the neighborhood of motherly and it feels more amazing than you could have imagined. 

Ryan keeps his hand in yours the entire time you sit in the waiting room of the tiny optometrist’s office. The fact that you’re his comfort in this situation has you practically beaming enough to be one of the models on the posters that surround you of people who are overly excited to have a new pair of glasses. Ryan has always loved and felt safe with you, but this is different, and you both know it—even if neither of you know how to put it into words. 

“Ryan Munson?”

His small hand is surprisingly strong as he grips yours like a lifeline at the sound of his name. Before you stand up, you lean in to whisper in his ear.

“I’m going to be right next to you the whole time. I promise.”

The words have Ryan loosening his vice grip just enough that you’re able to feel your fingers again. The two of you are led into a small office that has model after model of the human eye and a large chair directly in the middle of the room.

“You must be Ryan,” the doctor says as he steps into the office and shuts the door behind him. He’s an attractive man with a kind smile, right around Eddie’s age. “I’m Dr. Barnes. It’s very nice to meet you.”

Ryan gives him a nervous smile as he climbs into the large chair. “Nice to meet you too.”

You take a seat in a yellow hard plastic chair near the door and the doctor turns around to introduce himself to you as well. After he shakes your hand, his attention goes back to his patient.

“Tell me a little bit about what’s been going on with your eyes, Ryan,” Dr. Barnes says as he sits down on a rolling stool. 

The boy shifts in the large chair, the nervousness still very prevalent. “Um, well I-I haven’t been able to see the board very good at school. A-And at home the TV is all blurry.”

“Well, we definitely have to fix that!” Dr. Barnes says with a sympathetic sigh. “Gotta be able to do your work at school and then come home and watch cartoons. It’s a good thing your mom brought you in.”

You freeze, half a sputter coming from out of your mouth because you don’t know what to say. It’s a logical assumption on the doctor’s part, but if you let it slip by without correcting him will Ryan think that’s weird? If you correct the doctor will Ryan take that as meaning you don’t want to be called his mother? Or would Ryan feel like you’ve crossed a boundary if you just go on letting Dr. Barnes think that you’re his mom?

“She’s the best,” Ryan says, saving you from speaking at all. The anxiety immediately leaves your body at his words. The way Ryan smiles at you from his chair while the doctor sets things up has your heart soaring. His look practically says, yeah, I said you’re my mom because that’s what I want.

Somehow you manage to keep it together without crying—you’ll do that in front of Eddie later. Dr. Barnes turns out the main lights and puts a focused light on an eye chart just above your head. You watch as he tests Ryan’s vision by looking at different charts and signs full of numbers and letters of all sizes before he lowers the phoropter in front of the eight-year-old’s face. Ryan almost goes cross eyed trying to look at the machine as it gets closer to him, and you can’t help but chuckle.

“Okay, I’m gonna show you two different lenses and you tell me which one is clearer while looking at that chart. Sound good?” Dr. Barnes asks.

“Uh huh,” Ryan says as tries to find the right angle to look into the machine. His voice is much steadier now. 

“One or two?”

“Uh…one.”

Multiple strengths are tried out and it seems like Dr. Barnes asks Ryan to pick between “one and two” about a million times. Even you’re getting fidgety in your seat by the end of it, so you can only imagine how antsy Ryan is. 

It was pretty evident to you that Ryan would end up needing glasses, but the little boy looks less than thrilled when the two of you head back out into the main area so you can find some frames.

After spotting a few pairs that he likes, Ryan starts to find it fun, seeing which ones look better on him and which ones make him look silly. In the end, he settles on two different sets of frames—which Eddie already said he’s cool with because he’d bet good money that one pair would either get lost or broken before the year is out. 

As you’re paying, Dr. Barnes makes sure the copy of Ryan’s prescription is all filled out before he hands it to you. The paperwork comes with a smoldering smile from the optometrist, and as flattering as it may be, it still makes you feel a tad awkward.

“I suppose I’ll see you back here in a few weeks, huh?” Dr. Barnes asks, directing the question at you instead of Ryan.

“Oh,” you say, caught off guard by the flirting. You look down and shake your head, but you see your ringless hand and understand why the man probably thinks you’re a single mom. “His dad,” you start, wrapping your arm around Ryan’s shoulders, “he, um, my boyfriend will probably be the one coming here to pick up the glasses with Ryan.”

“Ah,” Dr. Barnes says with a nod. “I guess I’ll see you soon then, Ryan.”

You look down to see Ryan squeezing his lips together, trying not to laugh as he nods his affirmation. He clearly understands what just happened and his expression makes it difficult for you to keep your laughter held in as well. 

The glasses will be ready in about two weeks and the little Munson doesn’t seem bothered by the fact that he has to wear them anymore. 

After the eye doctor, you take Ryan out for lunch at Schoop's Hamburgers, just the two of you. Both of you order milkshakes and you hold a finger up to your cold lips.

“Don’t tell Luke or your dad, they’ll be so jealous!”

Ryan just giggles and takes another sip of his strawberry shake while trailing an “X” over his heart with his right index finger. 

“Daddy’s taking me to pick the glasses up?” Ryan asks as you’re throwing away your garbage.

“Maybe,” you admit with a shrug. “Depends on our schedules that week. But I have a feeling your dad will want to be the one to take you.”

“Because the doctor wanted to kiiiiiiss you?” Ryan asks in a mischievous little voice that you’d expect from Luke more than him.

“Yes,” you acquiesce with a chuckle. “But I’m sure he’s just as excited to see what your new glasses look like.” But it’ll definitely be mostly about Doctor McFlirty, you think.  

When you get home, Eddie’s at the kitchen table, looking over some bills. As soon as you and Ryan walk through the door, Eddie pushes it to the side and stands up.

“Hey, how’d the appointment go?” Eddie looks back and forth from you to Ryan, not sure which one of you will speak first. 

“He did great,” you tell Eddie, throwing a wink Ryan’s way.

“I picked out some glasses and they’ll be ready in two weeks!” he proudly tells his dad. Then his eyes light up and he lets out a small giggle. “And the doctor wanted to steal your girlfriend, Daddy.”

“What?” Eddie’s immediately defensive and looks towards you, eyebrows raised.

You can’t help but giggle right alongside Ryan at Eddie’s expression. “He tried flirting with me, but I told him I was with you.”

“He was bummed,” Ryan adds.

“I’m taking you to pick those glasses up,” Eddie tells his son, jabbing his thumb into his t-shirt clad chest. 

“You were right!” Ryan says with a laugh, looking over at you. 

“Do I know your Dad or what?” you ask as the two of you high five one another. 

A couple of weeks later, the glasses are finally in. Eddie takes Ryan by the office after he gets off work to go pick them up. 

The smell of roasting garlic fills the air as you make dinner and Luke is watching television when they get home. Ryan bounces in, excited about his new glasses. There’s a proud gleam in his eye as he stands in the middle of the entryway, taking in the view of the apartment clearly for the first time in a while.

“Let me see, let me see!” you say as you step out of the kitchen. “Aw, Ry! They look even better than the display ones you tried on at the store!”

The rectangular black frames complement his dark eyes and honey brown hair. You’re overcome with how handsome of a young man your little Ryan is turning into. 

Luke kneels on the couch cushion and turns around to see his brother. 

“Lemme see.”

Ryan does a one-eighty to show his little brother. All Luke does is give him a thumbs up before he goes back to watching The Fairly Odd Parents.

“It feels kind of funny,” Ryan tells you, rubbing his left eye beneath the glasses. You can already see fingerprint smudges on the lenses and you’re grateful you remembered to buy lens cleaning cloths the last time you went grocery shopping. “What does? What feels funny?” you ask.

“Seeing things that are far away!” he says, both excitement and a slight bit of irritation in his usually calm tone. “Almost makes me a little dizzy.”

“Doctor said that’s normal,” Eddie says, resting his hands on his son’s shoulders. “Your eyes will get used to them real quick, then it won’t feel that way.” He raises an eyebrow and looks at you. “And this doctor also seemed a bit nervous around me.” 

You giggle and bound over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “He’s threatened by what a wonderful, sexy man you are.”

“Gross,” Luke mumbles from the couch.

Soda almost sprays out of your nose at Eddie’s story about a difficult customer who came into work this morning, when one of his co-workers pops his head into the breakroom.

“Hey, Eddie,” he says, rubbing a hand over his bald head, leaving small streaks of grime behind. “There’s a phone call for you.”

“Oh, okay,” Eddie says. He crumples up the tin foil you brought his sandwich in and tosses it in the large trashcan behind him. Not in a particular hurry, Eddie stands up and stretches his arms over his head. He smirks and presses a quick kiss to your lips when he sees you checking him out. Your gaze continues to look him up and down as he takes the few steps over to the phone on the wall. 

“Hello?” Eddie asks.

The chicken sandwich lying on the table in front of you looked good when you first arrived to have lunch with your boyfriend, but now that you’re full it looks as if it’s taunting you. Crinkling fills the room as you pack it back up in its foil. Just as you’re lifting your can of diet Dr. Pepper to your lips, Eddie’s face clouds with worry and he lets out a frustrated sigh.

“Yeah, uh, I’ll be right there,” he says into the phone. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, slipping your leftovers into your large black purse. As Eddie hangs the phone back up, you walk over to stand at his side, careful of getting your clothes dirtied by his coveralls.

Instead of answering you, Eddie lets out another sigh and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Gimme a second, baby.”

You watch, confused, as Eddie steps across the hall into his boss’s office. There seems to be a short, quick conversation before your boyfriend comes back out and slips his hand into yours.

“It was the school,” Eddie tells you as he leads you towards the exit and out into the parking lot.

“Are the boys okay?” you ask, feeling your heart rate pick up as you walk briskly towards his truck. 

“Luke’s in the principal’s office,” Eddie tells you with an agitated huff. “He got into a fight.”

“He what?” Your eyes almost pop out of your head. “Is he okay?”

“Just a little banged up, according to the principal,” Eddie says as he opens the passenger side door for you. 

“Poor baby.”

Long strides lead Eddie around his truck, and he situates himself in the driver’s seat. He gives a humorless chuckle as he starts the engine.

“Wayne wasn’t fucking kidding when he said Luke is a little version of me.”

“First of all, we all say that,” you tell him. “Second of all, you fought at school?”

“Oh, baby,” Eddie says with a soft laugh as he pulls out of the parking lot and onto the main road. “Remind me to tell you some stories when we get home.”

When you get to the school, you and Eddie practically jump out of the truck and head towards the building. Once you’re both inside, you feel rough calloused fingers tangle with your own. His eyes are straight ahead but you can tell Eddie’s nerves are on edge as he gives your hand a soft squeeze.

Luke is sitting on the bench outside of the principal’s office, his legs dangling over the edge, swinging back and forth. He’s watching his black and white sneakers disappear beneath the wooden seat before reappearing again, taking no notice of you coming down the hall. Only his profile is visible from the angle you’re approaching from. 

“Luke,” Eddie says as the two of you walk up to him.

The young boy jumps off the bench and turns to face the two of you. You’re startled to see his eye already bruised and purpling, along with a small cut on his bottom lip. There’s the instinct to pull him into your arms and take care of him and tell him it’s all going to be okay. But Luke’s grinning up at the pair of you; a stark contrast to the evidence of the brawl on his face.

“Oh, hi! They told me they called Daddy, but I didn’t know both of you were coming!” The excitement on his face to see both of you is adorable yet seems out of place since he must know he’s going to get in trouble. 

“Luke, what happened?” Eddie asks at the same time that you ask, “Are you okay?”

“M’fine,” Luke answers your question with a shrug. “My hand hurts more than anything.” The boy cradles his right hand against his chest and it’s the first time you see his scraped and bruised knuckles.

“What happened?” Eddie asks again, this time with less patience. 

Luke’s eyebrows furrow, a little “v” creasing his forehead. The pride from the fight vanishes from his eyes as he recalls the situation. 

“Stupid Trevor Brown opened his big fat mouth on the playground!” Luke says sternly, even louder than he usually is. “He said to Brandon Simpson that Ryan’s glasses made him look like a loser.”

“So you hit him?” Eddie asks.

“No, I told him he better shut his damn—uh, dang mouth. Trevor just laughed and said Ryan was a nerd! Then I hit him.”

Eddie sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose as he squeezes his eyes closed. Secretly, he’s proud of his son for sticking up for his brother, but he has to compose himself so he can tell Luke he shouldn’t have done that. The paradox of being a parent.

“Luke, you should have told a teacher instead,” Eddie tells him. “Hitting someone is not the way to shut them up.”

“Well, punching him in the mouth did the trick,” Luke points out. 

You try not to laugh, covering it up with a cough. Eddie’s better at keeping himself composed but you know he would be grinning if he could.

A door squeaks open and the principal steps out of his office with another young boy, a huge bruise blooming on his jaw and dried blood caked under his nose. Luke definitely came out the winner of the fight. 

“You sit here and wait for your mom now, Trevor,” Principal Andrews says, gesturing to the bench Luke was just sitting on. “Ah, Mr. Munson. Thank you for coming.”

“And this is his girlfriend!” Luke announces proudly, coming to stand in front of you. The small boy is wiggling his way out of any trouble with you by seeming so thrilled to have you there and showing you off proudly.

Eddie nods his head at the principal, ignoring Luke, and shakes the man’s hand. You gently pat Luke’s curls, hoping he takes the hint to shut up.

“I’m sorry for the trouble,” Eddie says, and you silently wonder how many times Wayne had to say that to Eddie’s principal growing up. “This one is in for it, I’ll tell you that.” Eddie nods his head towards Luke. “Can someone just let Ryan know Luke won’t be on the bus coming home?”

“Of course,” Principal Andrews says. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Luke. We’ll be better behaved then, won't we?”

Luke turns to head down the hall without answering, but Eddie grabs the back of his t-shirt and pulls him back. He puts his hands on Luke’s shoulders and spins him around until he’s facing the principal again.

“Luke,” Eddie warns him.

“Yes, Principal Andrews,” Luke says in a monotone, eyes on the shiny white linoleum tile below his sneakers. Deciding he’s done with talking, he slips his smaller hand into yours, deciding he’d rather hold your hand than his father’s right now.

“Thanks again, Principal Andrews,” Eddie says before the three of you walk down the hallway towards the exit.

It’s utterly silent until you get into Eddie’s truck. You’re not sure what to say, because this is between father and son. Eventually, you decide you’ll just be a referee if it comes to that. 

Eddie silently pulls the truck out of the parking lot and starts to head home.

“Luke,” Eddie finally says after seven minutes of terse silence. It feels like he’s said his son’s name about a hundred times already today. “I don’t like that you hit someone. But I am proud of you for sticking up for your brother.”

In the rearview mirror, Eddie can see how Luke grins at that, which makes Eddie smile in turn. 

“I wasn’t gonna let those buttheads talk that way about my brother,” Luke says. “I know I’m not s’posed to hit—I do. But if someone says something about a person I love, I just get so mad, and it comes out all violent.”

“Holy shit,” Eddie mumbles under his breath, loud enough for only you to hear. “He is my mini-me.”

When you get home, you take Luke into the bathroom so you can clean up and bandage his wounds. His knuckles are still sore and stinging when you finish, so he sits on the couch with a bag of frozen corn on them. Eddie plops down next to him as you lean against the wall between the bathroom and living room, wiping off some antibacterial ointment that you accidentally got on your own hands.

“You know I have to punish you, right?” Eddie asks, raising his eyebrows as he looks down at his youngest son. 

“I know,” Luke says with a sigh. 

“I want you to go in your room until dinner time. Try and work on your homework if your hand starts to feel any better. And no dessert after dinner tonight.”

“And then?” Luke asks, looking up at his dad nervously, afraid of how long he’s going to be grounded.

“And then tomorrow you wake up, get ready for school, and keep being a wonderful brother.”

It takes a minute, but a smile slowly spreads to Luke’s face as he realizes there’s no punishment besides the minor consequences he’ll have to endure tonight.

“Now, go on. Get to your room,” Eddie says.

Luke gets up and heads towards the hallway before stopping and turning back to face his father.

“Don’t tell Ryan what happened, okay?” Luke says, wincing at the chill from the vegetable bag against his scrapes. “I don’t want him to know that someone said mean things about him.”

“I won’t tell him,” Eddie assures his son. Luke turns back towards the hallway, but Eddie calls him and he faces his dad again. “You’re a really good brother. Ryan is very lucky to have you, and I know he’d have your back too. I’m very lucky.”

“Aww, Dad,” Luke says, wrinkling up his nose. “So mushy. But… I know I’m lucky too. Always felt that having you and Ryan. Never with Mom though. But now I got someone pretty cool who loves me like I’m her kid and that’s even better.”

Luke continues down to his room and Eddie is filled with the overwhelming feeling of love. Love from the kind words from Luke—which are rare within themselves–the love that his two sons have for one another and that special bond, and love at the fact that Luke recognizes that you love him and Ryan as if they’re your own children. You practically see them that way anyway. 

You walk in from where you’re holding up the wall, emotional yourself over Luke’s words, and take a seat next to your boyfriend on the couch.

“How ya feeling?” you ask, bringing your hand up to play with one of Eddie’s stray curls.

“I’m so fucking proud of my son,” Eddie admits with a hushed laugh. “I know I had to tell him the whole ‘violence isn’t the answer’ spiel, but I would’ve done the exact same thing that he did. When I was a kid or even now.” 

“He’s such a good brother,” you say, an adoring grin on your face as well. 

Eddie wraps his arm around you, and you snuggle into his side.

“So, I believe you had some stories to tell me?” You tilt your head up to smirk at your boyfriend. 

Eddie chuckles and gives a shake of his head. “Oh, you better buckle up, princess. I’ve got some wild tales.”

[jayden-killer]

FOR US.

(Loki x fem! Reader)

summary: A friend of Loki knocks at your house door, with the intention to tell you Loki's last words to you.

warnings: SPOILERS FROM LOKI SEASON 2 FINALE, very long one shot, other than that, no more warnings, this is so sad lol.

"On the coast, temperatures will drop sharply, dropping from eleven to four degrees, especially after the sunset. Now, let’s move on to the inner side..."

The weatherman’s voice came from the TV in the living room, but to me, it was distant since I was focused on unpacking the shopping bags on my kitchen island. The cold dyed my cheeks a light purple, although I had access to the heating in the house for a few minutes. A few sunbeams were seeping through the curtains, illuminating my face, and I was checking that you hadn’t forgotten anything from my shopping list. And yet, even though I was busy, there was a small part of me that felt like something bad was going to happen. As if my sixth sense was warning me that something inexplicable was coming. Almost as if it were fate to give me the answer rang the bell at my front door. I picked up the remote next to me of the TV, turned it off, and gently left it on the couch, then went to open it to whoever was behind my door. The moment you opened it, a gentleman appeared to me to be middle-aged, with grizzled hair and a short moustache. Despite his rather well-groomed appearance, the lines on his face were noticeable, showing his age. And he definitely had tired eyes. I looked at him reluctantly, waiting for him to talk; actually, I did it first. "Hi? Can I... do something for you?"

He breathed in air and glanced at me, not with disgust but rather with curiosity. He asked if my name was what he actually knew, which was later confirmed by me. Then he answered with a half-forced smile and a subtle voice: "I’m sorry if I show up here, out of nowhere, without even introducing myself. Call me Mobius," he clarified, giving me a handshake."I am here for a specific reason. It's forLoki".

My heart sank when I heard Loki’s name spoken. It couldn’t be good. Loki would have come in person if it was important.

Why wasn’t he there?

Why was there this Mobius instead?

Did Loki pull one of his tricks again and caused more chaos than he did in the past?

Once again, my sixth sense did not betray me.

~

"Tea?"

"Oh, no, thank you".

"Not even a piece of cake? It’s fresh, I bought it just this morning".

"I can not say no to such a good piece of cake. I gladly accept." Mobius' laugh was short, but it was effective in bringing back a smile on that concerned face that I had shown since he told me he was here with precise intentions. Now, he was sitting in my living room, on the leather sofa that Loki himself adored, since his butt never wanted to leave it. "So..." I began the conversation, handing the strawberry cake plate to Mobius, who thanked me with a silent thank you. He took a bite of it and showed with pleasure that the dessert was good. I sat in front of him, rubbing the sweaty palms of my hands on my jeans. One of my legs bounced back and forth, clearly anxious. "You said it was about Loki. What’s going on?"

Mobius cleared his voice, placing next to him the dish of cake now devoured, and assumed a different expression; he seemed tense, as if finding the words for what he was going to tell me was the most complicated thing in the world. I bit my lip. The wait was slowly killing me inside.

"Loki... well, he..." He breathed, looking down. "You know what he was doing at TVA?"

"Yes" My answer was hasty. I needed to know what had happened to my partner.

"What about his past?"

"I know everything. What happened? Why isn’t he here, Mobius?"

He took a very deep breath, and closed his eyes slightly, looking away. He placed a hand on the inside of his jacket, pulling a paper bag from an inner pocket. He handed it to me, and I immediately noticed the details: the recipient and the sender were written with, surely, an handwriting well taken care of; of course the ink was a fountain pen, because no one else would recognize that writing so elegant. It was Loki’s. A letter from Loki. And judging by the content, there was also an object inside it.

"What does that mean?" I didn’t want Loki to leave me. Not again. My voice cracked in pain, and I felt a tingle in my eyes. Mobius took my hand, holding it tightly. As if to say that he was there to console me, but that the worst was yet to come.

"Loki is...he is now 'He who remains'. The one who watches over time. On all the timelines of all time. He is...like a new time keeper".

The pieces of the puzzle were slowly coming together and everything seemed clearer when he confessed to me. My gaze wavered from the envelope to Mobius' broken face. He sympathized me, it was clear, but how could you not pity a lover who had definitely lost, this time, his other half.

"He holds all the time lines together. His role is extremely important, because if it weren’t for him, we wouldn’t...you wouldn’t be here." I looked at him with tears in my eyes. His breathing was accelerating. He hadn’t finished. There was something else he had to reveal to me.

"Before he sacrificed himself for the sake of time, for his friends, for you... he told me to give you this." His gaze fell on the letter. "Then he closed the underground doors leading to the tunnel, and looked at me and Sylvie."

"Sylvie..." The name reminded me of someone he previously told me about. "Her other variant, right?"

He nodded. "He told us that now he knew who he would become. What God would he be. And he thanked you for taking care of him when he was still a dangerous man, a threat to others." He paused briefly. Even his voice seemed to waver for a second. " That’s it. And he disappeared in the next few minutes."

How much information in one speech.

How many things I would have to process in my mind before I accepted the harsh and harsh truth.

How many thoughts buzzed in my head as a result of that shocking revelation.

It was like a truck hitting you in the chest, throwing your powerless body into the road.

"He won't come back anymore, will he?"

Mobius never stopped holding my hand for a moment, holding it even tighter in his rough palm. He understood that he too had a strong hope of Loki’s return. Surely he had been a close friend of his, one who had been close to him all along. So why didn’t he tell me about it before?

However, his silence mk was from confirmation: he wanted, as much as me, his return, but how many were high hopes?

Would it have happened that, one day, a morning like this, he would have appeared at the door of my house, he would have knelt down and embraced me grieving?

How many years from now?

"We don’t know for sure." That sentence brought me up. I dried with my fist closed the tears that threatened to flow from my eyes, as a child does when she feels that maybe her mother would never return to her. I couldn’t stand the idea that I wouldn’t have Loki around me anymore.

Without adding any more, Mobius let go of my hand, standing up and glancing at the letter I held in my other palm. It was a silent way of saying he would give me some privacy to read the letter. So, he walked to the kitchen, bringing with him the plate with the leftover cake.

My hands were shaking. I didn’t have the courage to see what was inside. I was hoping it was another one of his planned pranks. Maybe confetti and a snake would come out, and he would hiss and say, "I fooled you again!"

I tore the opening of the envelope very gently and put a flickering hand inside. I had a cold feeling. Something hard and small was inside. It was..

"A ring.."

A beautiful silver ring.

Tears immediately came back to me. The small object landed in the palm of my hand, the hiccups made its way into my throat, and I squeezed it tightly against my chest. I couldn’t do it.

This was too much for my weak heart.

Was that the real pain?

Was that how you felt?

I still had to read his letter. I didn’t mentally have the strength to do it. It required a huge effort. Only some time later I had the courage to open that letter that was delivered to me by Mobius.

☆

A/N: NOW, my fellow readers, would you like to know what Loki has written in that letter ✉️? Because I've assured you, it's gonna be much sad than this one short.👀

[moonstruckme]

Heyy

Can I request something fluffy with tasm!Peter where the reader refuses to kiss him cause she's coming down with a cold (definitely not me projecting myself into this) and peter doesn't care cause he loves her kisses sick or not

Thank you for your writing *lots of hugs*

-🔮

Oh no, hope you feel better soon lovely! Thanks for requesting <3

tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 633 words

“Baby.” Peter’s trying to sound serious, but he’s giggling, chasing you about as you try to evade him. “C’mon, just one.” 

“No!” You dodge his hands, dashing around the bed to put something solid between you. “This is for your own good.” 

“I don’t care.” He pouts. “Listen, I’m gonna get sick anyway. Why delay the inevitable and deprive me in the process?”

You give him a hard look. “You’re not going to get sick if you keep away from me.” 

Peter scoffs. “Babe, please. That’s not happening.” 

You cross your arms. “You don’t want this cold,” you reason with him. “It hasn’t even set in all the way for me yet, and I can tell it’s gonna suck.” 

He softens. “That’s what I’m talking about, sweetheart. There’s no way I’m not going to take care of you while you’re sick, so why bother with this? Let’s just cut to the chase.” 

You hesitate. It really isn’t easy to resist him, looking so soft and kissable with his hair all ruffled from the wind outside and that slight pout to his lips. He’s making his eyes extra big to get to you, you know it. But you’re trying to spare him. 

You start to shake your head, but Peter makes to dash around the bed, and you do the first thing you can think of to avoid him, diving under the covers. 

Peter chuckles darkly, and you feel him crawling on top of you, his hands prodding at your form through the fabric. 

“Bad idea,” he tuts. “I’ve got you right where I want you now.” 

“Shut up,” you say, but you’re unable to keep from laughing as his fingers find your side, making you squeal and squirm away from his touch. “Stop! All you have to do is leave me alone for a few days, and then I’ll get better and we can kiss all you want.” 

He hums disapprovingly. “You’re asking too much of me.” 

He straddles you, hands climbing toward the top of the sheets. You curl your fingers into the fabric determinedly, tensing in anticipation of his attack, but then Peter hesitates. 

“Honey,” he says, voice softening slightly. Even though he can’t see you, you narrow your eyes, mistrustful of this change in mood. “You’re only not kissing me because you’re getting sick, right? Like, if you weren’t, you’d want to?”

You hesitate, bemused. “Of course,” you say slowly. 

“So you’re cheating both of us by holding out, huh?” 

You only scoff, but apparently that’s enough confirmation for Peter, because he uncovers you with one good tug of the sheets, tearing them from your grasp. 

“Great, just wanted to be sure.” He holds you in place with a hand at your jaw, pressing his lips to yours with a smack. 

“Peter!” you huff, glaring up at him, but he only pats your cheek consolingly. 

“There we go, baby, I’m all contaminated,” he says satisfiedly. “Now will you give it up and let me be close to you?” 

“Not if it means rewarding your lack of self-preservation,” you grumble, but Peter only rolls his eyes, smiling at you like you’re silly. 

“If you’re asking if I��m always going to want to take care of you when you’re sick, then yes,” he says. “Not sure there’s anything you can do to stop me, sweet thing. I know it must be awful, though, to have a boyfriend who loves you and your kisses so much.” 

He’s trying to guilt you. It’s working, your eye roll nothing more than performative as you warm to the idea of letting him take care of you while you ride out this cold. Peter can tell, grinning down at you smugly. 

“Kiss?” he asks, all but batting his eyelashes at you. “Please?”

This time, you oblige him.

[gaysindistress]

Hey my sweet sweetheart 😘 so I'm currently sitting in the dark as the power in the whole town went down and Id have the wish to have Bucky here with me. So there's maybe this idea where they have also no power at the compound and the reader sneaks her way into Bucks room cause she doesn't want to be alone and he prepares everything with candles and blankets to have all comfy so that he can cuddle you all night 🥺 aw this makes me crave him so bad 😞

Hey hey 💕

I tried to finish this yesterday but I got distracted when I got home. Anyways here it is! I hope you survived your power outage 😉

The lights above flickered for a moment before all chaos descended upon me. The generators cry out as they shut off and even the air conditioning disappears too.

“Jarvis?” I hesitantly call for the AI that I hated at first but later thanked Tony for.

“Jarvis?” I call out again but there’s no reply.

I can hear others down the hall calling for him too but they too receive nothing. Vision waltzes through my wall and informs me that the power is out.

“Mr.Stark has yet to confirm when it will be back on. He asks that no one disturb him while he works to turn it back on,” he states before walking through my wall again.

I curse under my breath and flop myself onto my bed. I had been working on a mission report but seeing as the power is out and therefore the wifi, it doesn’t look like I’ll be doing anymore work.

Usually Tony is quick to get things up and running again however this new compound is significantly larger than Stark Tower. There may only be 3 stories to power however it spans across 15 acres, all of which contain various important power sources. I can only imagine how long it’ll take even with the help of Bruce and Peter (granted Peter may just get in the way but it’s the thought that counts.)

The reality of sitting alone in the dark for an indefinite amount of time starts to weigh on me and it’s been less than a minute. It’s not that I’m afraid of the dark, I’m just afraid of what’s IN the dark and being alone without a way to call for help isn’t where I want to be.

I slide out of bed, wrapped up in a blanket like it’s my armor and book it to the door. Popping my head out, I spot Wanda and Natasha walking towards me.

“We’re having a game night in the living room. You should come with us,” Wanda excitedly tells me but Natasha is quick to give me the answer I really want.

“He was in his room when we walked past,” she says with a faint smile.

“Thank you. Maybe next time,” I mumble to them as I dash past and towards his room.

When I come to stand in front of his door, I can’t find the courage to knock. I nervously shift on my feet as i hope the ceiling would come crashing down so i wouldn’t have to knock or survive this power outage. Voices float down the hall towards me and I know it’s now or never.

I gingerly knock, hoping that Bucky would hear and open the door before the voices see me.

The door cracks open and my savior looks at my wearily, “y/n?”

I wince at the harsh sound of his voice as the door cautiously swings open, allowing me a chance to slip in. I take it and tuck myself against the wall as Bucky turns to look at me.

“Come here,” he says in a gentler tone with his arms spread wide. When I don’t immediately take a step forward, he takes a cautious step towards me and waits. I almost knock him over from the force of me launching myself at him.

“Let’s get you into bed,” he whispers after pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

I barely nod in agreement and he’s gently pulling me towards his bed. Ever the gentlemen, he doesn’t try to remove my blanket and instead lifts his covers so I can curl into a ball under both layers.

He tucks his duvet around me before leaving and opening his closet. I can’t see what he’s doing but I can hear his gathering things and closing the door. Returning only minutes later to his position next my hunched form, he nudges my hip for me to move over. When I move, I can see that he’s lit several candles and placed them throughout the room. He doesn’t mention it as he crawls in next to me and wraps his arms around me.

“Thank you.”

“No need for that, doll. You know that.”

I move my head so I can look up at him and he does the same. I’ve always thought him to be the most beautiful men I’ve ever seen but the kindness and thoughtfulness of this moment confirms that. He is the epitome of beauty from his looks to his heart.

Bucky glances to my lips for a second and I do the same. It’s now or never.

We meet I n the middle, completely enthralled with each other and this moment. He closes the last few inches and captures my lips in a kiss. He shifts so that hes leaning over me as our lips move together, growing breathless. Pulling away, i smile at the man above me, delicate pieces of dark hair framing the face of this angel.

“You are the best thing that has ever happened to me” I murmur before my lips meet his once again. I feel him nod as our mouths part and his tongue slides against mine.

“And you are my light,” he murmurs back as we wrap ourselves up in each other.

[lains-reality]

hi :) i hope you’re having a wonderful day

you’re literally the only blogger i trust when it comes to non-duality, and your advice has been the one i’ve been most easily able to apply/understand. I hope this doesn’t come off as a vent, but it probably will just because this question is so complicated and problem riddled, and tbh idek if you’re actually going to respond, but yea. it’s like star wars you’re my obi wan kenobi! my last hope lol

basically i’ve put my life on hold and procrastinated everything i’ve needed to do. (TW: death?? health problems/sa?) I went through a really bad year, last year. the human character i identify with (non-dualistic terms, bc ik this character isn’t me?) was sa’d in the beginning of the year. really traumatic. i dropped out of school, i couldn’t go out of the house because i feared for my life. i became super paranoid. i reported it and filed charges, but the justice system is fucked so.

anyways, after because the amount of stress i was experiencing, i became very ill. my biological father wished death on me, and i believed it at the time, because my sibling wished for me to get raped, and then it happened. i can see now, how my belief may or may not have been the cause of what happened. i then got cancer. the doctors couldn’t figure it out for months, and even ridiculed me- saying how i relied on google.

i finally went to a specialist who was immediately concerned, and then confirmed my suspicions. i was sort of friends with a blogger on here who got into the void and manifested their dream life. they went into the void for me and affirmed that i no longer had cancer, and that i could tap/wake up in the void. the next day, the huge lump/tumor on my neck was gone. all of my ailments- trouble breathing, patchy and rough skin ceased. i literally told my mother what happened which made her start believing in the power of “manifestation”.

because of the paranoia, and then cancer- i didn’t go to school my last 2 years of school. i switched to online, but never felt the need to complete my classes because i knew i would get into the void. i’ve gotten into the void, both by waking up/tapping into it but i haven’t been able to change my awareness, or “manifest” bc i was just mumbo jumbing words or poetry. i didn’t apply to university, because i thought i’d enter the void before then and revise my school grades + make it so i got into the university of my choice.

now, i have a week left before i have to finish my classes- which i have 7 of them, and so many assignments. i have to move out in the middle of august because i lied to my parents and said i got into university, because i thought i would’ve already changed things with the void by now. my life was fucked, then i fucked my life. after discovering non-duality i gained hope that i would be able to turn things around by now, yet i haven’t. i don’t know what i’m doing wrong, because i was able to show myself the truth of reality (as lester levinson said).

i am really stressing because now everything is falling down on itself. i try to forget my problems, and don’t give them life by letting go, yet it’s so hard when teachers are bombarding me with messages how i have to finish the classes, or how i have to move out soon. i know this is probably ego driven, but i feel as if i can’t see a way through because of how attached i am to this. my health has also been abnormal, which makes me fear that the cancer has returned. what should i do?? im kinda freaking out.

anyways, i am so sorry if this came across trauma dumping/venting. i am just at a point where i do not even know where to begin to conceptualize this into understanding. this took a lot of courage to type, as im a bit afraid still- that people who hurt me from last year will see this (even though i know they won’t, but still). i totally understand if you wish not to post this or answer it, as it is very long and limiting. thank you though! i hope you have a wonderful week:)

this was quite difficult to answer as i've never been through so much turmoil all at once. i hope this answer helps and you'll continue taking care of yourself! (i'm sorry i linked way too much lol just don't read it all at once!)

firstly i want you to rest.

you've been through a lot and you've also been putting off a lot to get into the void. stopping life for manifestation is common it seems, its not healthy either. so much pressure is coming from time. you put all your expectations on a method, and i'm gonna guess that you also put so much onto your mind to get you into the void.

practically: your biological father sounds abusive and so does your sibling, i would be more careful around him. idk if your not around him anymore, it sounds like it? but you need to plan accordingly for your lie. are you gonna tell your parents or ?

theres a massive chance you'll just go crazy trying to figure out all these moving parts, so i suggest do what you can and leave the rest. do the minimum to keep you safe, then figure out the rest as it comes. do whatever you need to do, just remember to not take on too much at once.

ask for breaks on work at school for medical reasons, maybe think about jobs, etc. you see how much more could come into the picture? but this is all the body-mind can do. its easy to treat it as god, but its not god.

"but i feel as if i can’t see a way through"

You fail to do the works of God, because you take the body to be God. - Ada B. [4dbarbie]

take a look at these meditations:

butter meditation

peace meditation

surrender meditation

un-identification exercise

crying meditation

i'd like you pick one of these exercises:

feel all the shit. feel bad. just do it. let all the bad feelings out. put on sad music and fucking cry. cry it all out.

let yourself rest, with no problems. if a thought or feeling comes in just let it, because its not a problem remember? :) just put on some calming music or visualise a calming place. and let yourself have some time with nothing. no conditions. no perfection. no obligations. no 'have to' 'should' 'must'. let that go for this time

feel as if you've died. feel as if you've been completely forgiven, feel as if there was a powerful white light that washed you away of all the crap. really feel as if the divine came down, hugged you and said 'i love you and forgive you'. its all over. finally its all done. you can rest. (i suggest kickstarting this with imagery or music, its hard to generate feeling such grace on you own. i saw a jesus holding a baby lamb picture that made me burst out in tears and realised that all i wanted was just to be, no obligations. i imagined waking up in a heaven, in a gaint flowerfield. do what you want)

one time i did the 1st and 3rd exercises (i made it up on the spot) and it was worth it. the next few days felt much better. its like an exercise in rebirth. let yourself be reborn.

some days you'll just do one or all 3. pick what ever feels right in what ever order. but i suggest that 'feel as if you've died' or 'no problems' comes last! the whole point is to let the painful emotion pass through and settle in a neutral or grateful place.

"after discovering non-duality i gained hope that i would be able to turn things around by now"

here's the problem, you went into a philosophy intending to manifest. yes,, (1) you can do that (2) its okay, AS LONG AS YOU DONT MISS THE POINT. the point being that there is no person! the character is a character, not you. manifestation is just another concept, you can use it as long as you understand that its not real. thats why i shared the BOOKS, you need to READ.

"i try to forget my problems, and don’t give them life by letting go"

don't force yourself to forget (don't say you're not forcing it, otherwise you never would of wrote "TRY"). just let them be. deal with it when it comes up. the mind'll want to make a bazillion plans and stress. if you can make plans without spiriling, then do it. if you can't, don't. there will probably be some things you need to plan and thats okay. but everything else, leave it.

you haven't actually let it go, you're here in my inbox. you do not need to force letting it go. you naturally let it go by realising who you are in relation to it all. if you think you're the body-mind then its impossible to let go, because its your life and it involves you and if you let it go to shit, you might die!! - says the mind. but if you're Self, then this is not you. all those stories mean nothing compared to Infinity, Absolute Perfection and Love!

the Self is who you truly are. Self is still underneath it all, it is all. its imagining itself being a human. the character is the wave, YOU are the ocean. ultimately this is about realising all the identities, images and roles that "you've" taken on and used as reference are not you. how can a story be you? how can the past be you? are you the past? are you currently living in the past? you can be if you keep bringing it into the now.

when you stop using the past as a reference point, how much more posibilities come up now?

this is because the mind only knows what it knows. it cannot know anything more than what it knows right now. it can't access infinite intelligence. that's why it'll try to project into the future, and make plans. but it doesn't truly know. all it does is give suggestions based off the past. it is a combination of identity based off feelings, thoughts and memories that is collected and turned into a habit.

the past, memories, feelings, thoughts, identifies, roles etc all pass through you. they all come up like waves and then leave on THEIR OWN. if you hold onto these (which the character wants to do, it thinks thats all it is) it'll be painful when they are threatened in some way. a simple remark of "oh you look xxx" can be so painful for some characters because they based their whole life on a singular identity that WILL go.

Most of you can't change because you are so desperate TO change... but there is nothing to want to change. Things just are. Don't work with changing self, just realize who self actually is. [4dbarbie]

this is not a forcing thing, its just a rememberance. its done out of love, passion, a desire to just be free! with no ties to whatever identity! its takes courage, not convincing or denial.

Disbelieving you are Vanessa and denial are not the same thing. Denial is when you deny reality to something you're already giving reality to. Disbelieving was meant as an experiment, you never thought yourselves to be anything but this body, what will happen if you did? What are changes in your psyche, do you feel more confident, do you feel like you could take on the world? Don't you love Vanessa now that you know that she always was a choice? Even if she wasn't the greatest, what's so wrong with her? She is just somebody, she just lives a life. Things are only so serious when you're identified with her, you get scared, you get hurt, you feel stuck. But when you know that she can't hinder you? That she was never you? Don't you just want to laugh and hug her? [4dbarbie]

are you sure you're reading books and posts? a lot of this is already answered. your case is just more to deal with, but the point is still the same: you are not the body and mind, see what would happen if you questioned them.

just KEEP IT SIMPLE!

i'd like to leave you with this.

Once a young woman came to Hafiz and said, “What is the sign of someone knowing God?” And Hafiz became very quiet and stood in silence for nearly a minute. Lovingly looking deep into the young woman's eyes, he then softly spoke: “My dear, they have dropped the knife. The person who knows God has dropped the cruel knife so often used upon their tender self and others.” [source]

some extra resources

eft - health fear

eft - afraid to feel

we cannot practice letting go

heart of an emotion

i want to wake up with everything

hafiz - love's victory (PLEASE WATCH IT)

trust yourself

"You think you're doing it all for nothing, that's why you don't do it. But is freedom from pain really nothing? At least you are, for once in your life, sighing from relief from all this never-ending sense of doing."

health anon

apply

"All the process requires is letting go of thinking you are Vanessa."

behaviour

letting thoughts and emotions pass

challenge yourself

stories

everything brings you back to your Self

you've been through a lot and i'm glad you still are full of love! otherwise you never would've tried in the first place to change anything. use that love, take any anger and turn it into love for freedom! for Self! i know you can do it!!

also: the feeling of bad health coming back is a sign to me. you've put so much on hold: your healing from the sa, the healing from your family, the lying, LIFE in general. you can't keep doing that. turn inwards. the fear won't consume you.

[lemonmatronics]

THE POPPY PLAYTIME CHAPTER 3 TRAILER IS SOOO!,?!.?.!.

What a great treat to wake up to—Excuse me while I go insane and spill some thoughts, reactions, theories, and predictions below please

ahem

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

SO LIKE FIRST OFF this chapter is gonna fuck, like this looks SO good holy shit

The setting and environment looks amazing but also the new hands mechanic along with the mask ohhhh this is gonna be FUN

Okay rambling about screenshots I took time

First off the environments look great, holy wow

The house itself looks kinda small so idk if that is the orphanage itself or some kind of set. Cause you can see fake sky walls around it, but like this is Playtime Co they would definitely do that to the orphanage also to give an illusion of outside. Either way it looks GREAT and I’m really excited to explore this setting

Just a nice shot of all the critters

I’m really curious if all the critters are gonna be utilized somehow. We know about Catnap and Dogday already, especially after the trailer itself. Though there was also the footage of Bobby running down the hall, looking like a normal plushie, and possibly seeing Hoppy in the trailer too. (I’ll touch on that later)

New Poster

Definitely looks like some company propaganda to try and keep kids from being afraid of CatNap. Judging by the files we got before looks like the results were a mixed bag. Considering the gas is there in the poster it’s definitely a company only poster, not something they could sell outside. They manipulated this kids so bad man :(

A CLEANER LOOK OF THIS THING,,,

THATS A SKELETON COMING OUT OF PUGAPILLAR’S MOUTH…Like that’s just straight up human remains.

I don’t think we’ve ever seen that before in this game. Like blood yeah plenty but BONES? They’re definitely amping things up for this chapter and I’m 100% here for it.

Besides that there’s a ton of plushies and such stabbed onto this weird thing. Is it a shrine? It doesn’t look like it could really move tbh, and if it was meant to be alive those parts aren’t doing anything to help it.

This poor mf

I’ve seen a lot of people speculate this is DogDay, which is a valid guess, but tbh my first thought was Hoppy. You can tell they have long droopy ears, which lines up with both candidates to me. Though I think the ears look a bit slimmer than what Dog Day’d would be, plus the angle on the head looks more like they’re dropping from the top of the head rather than the sides. I feel like if this was DogDay the whole head silhouette would be different because of the ears, which makes me lean towards Hoppy more.

I know her toy gives her long pointed up ears, but going off art and animation her ears can definitely fold

So I don’t think it’s out of the question that as a Bigger Bodies being her ears could fold over like that, especially while stuck like this.

Now I could be the one wrong here but I really think this is Hoppy. Won’t know until the game itself though so, I won’t treat either as divinities yet. It could just as easily be the case everyone else is right and it is DogDay, there’s evidence for that as well (Again, I’ll touch on that later).

So much happened here where do I even start

Obvious out the bat I guess, Kissy Missy is back!! And looks like Poppy isn’t ditching us alone either! Man I cannot tell it Poppy is good or not at this point, gray area? Trailer dialogue definitely sounded like she was supporting us.

“We’re coming! Just hold on!”

It’s really nice seeing Kissy back, really excited to see how she’s gonna help and play into this. I’ve been on the stance that she’s good ever since she helped in chapter 2 so this is really cathartic for me lmao.

As for what Poppy says here I found it interesting, like really interesting. Like, hearing it the first time made me think she casually confirmed something massive interesting. Granted, actually thinking about it longer, it could mean something else entirely. But was that the whole point?

“What’s happening down here is bigger than all of us. I need you. So we can revenge on those monsters who’ve tortured you, who’ve tortured us.”

“Those monsters who’ve tortured you”

Now, once I thought about it this is most likely referring to the literal monsters in the factory. Huggy, Mommy, CatNap, so on and such. But that’s not what my initial assumption was.

When Poppy referred to “monsters”, by first thought was the people working at the factory. I thought she said people at the factory tortured us.

I thought she confirmed that we’re a toy.

Once I thought about it longer, it doesn’t actually confirm that. But what if that’s the entire point? A double meaning line?

Now the player being a toy theory is something that’s been around since chapter 1, a theory I’ve fully stood by since then and still do. I like to think that’s why our character is completely silent, we’re a toy that can’t speak. Mute toys is something we’ve seen plenty of in the factory, more so than toys that actually talk. (Unless you count stuff like the Smiling Critters cartoon or the cardboard cutouts, but I’m talking purely living beings here.)

So while this doesn’t confirm the theory, this line is definitely throwing wood into the fire for me.

DogDay

Wether or not the chained Bigger Body above us DogDay or Hoppy, we have it confirmed here that DogDay is featured heavily in this chapter as an enemy. Again, I really wonder if the other Smiling Critters will show up as threats as well. Maybe a mixed bag of good and bad critters. If the chained up Bigger Body is DogDay, I wonder why he chases us after we assumingely set him free.

One note I’ll give that is to evidence for the chained bigger body being DogDay is that in the thumbnail you can see a shackle on his wrist

His arms are also long and lanky, which is why I won’t completely rule out it possibly being him there. It’s just as possible that it is him, both feel very plausible to me.

Though looking at the game footage, I’m not sure if can can see anything on his wrists. Additionally his arms look much wider than the one in thumbnail.

Additionally, the DogDay in the thumbnail looks so much like a…mascot suit? You can see seams and stitches all over him. Even other Bigger Bodies don’t look like that. Which is something I wanna give its own post to to figure deeper on.

So is this even the same DogDay at all?

It’s not completely out of the question there could be multiple DogDays, though that begs the question, what about other Smiling Critters? What about other toys as a whole?

Here’s my prediction on it. One Bigger Bodies experiment, and then there’s smaller ones approximately the size of their normal toys.

I think the DogDay in the thumbnail is a result of the Bigger Bodies testing, and the one actually chasing us is just a smaller more “normal” DogDay.

But if that’s true then it begs the question, what about other critters? We’ve seen a smaller Bobby before, does she also have a Bigger Bodies version?

Do they all have a Bigger Bodies equivalent?

Is there still a normal CatNap?

Again, all speculation but this chapter especially is really tickling my brain.

And finally we’ve got the man of the hour

Man he is so much lankier than I thought he would be. That definitely explains why his face was so high up on that one cam footage though. Here I was thinking he’d be bulky!

There isn’t too much to say here other than CatNap is definitely gonna be an imposing threat, and I’m very excited to see him in game. So far we’ve mainly seen him through silhouettes, and light peeks at small portions of his design. Seeing him better is game is gonna be a thrill and I’m so ready for it!

Additionally, just for the sake of adding on, we’ve seen these posters apparently from overseas get spread around lately

Both of these definitely look like they’re meant to be company only posters, ones you’d find in the schooling and orphanage areas.

The left poster telling kids to go inside right away when recess is up, nothing super deep here. Just a peek at the schooling that had here, and that these kids had their lives completely contained within the factory.

The second poster is CatNap telling Huggy to go to sleep, another attempt at convincing children CatNap isn’t dangerous. If Huggy is fine they will be too, right?

Anyways that’s my initial thoughts and reactions right after watching the trailer. VERY excited about this game, it’s been awhile since I’ve been able to brainstorm on my own over a game like this so I’m really looking forward to what this chapter has to give.

[halfdeadfullgay]

404 - Title Not Found (part/chapter 3)

Part 1 - Tumblr Part 2 - Tumblr

Ao3

Summary: Jason was expecting the gala to be boring like always but is pleasantly surprised when it isn’t.

Danny meant it as a joke but Fenton luck always strikes. At least he gets an excuse to talk to the cute guy he gave quarters to.

AN: As always this is crack, this is a whole crack fic; and I play fast and loose with DC&DP cannon. Ignore any out of character writing(mainly Vlad and Bruce).

Kinda/slow Vlad redemption, kinda like a shitty uncle that you get along with sometimes.

Danny and Jason don’t know each other’s names for a bit so they refer to each other as:

Danny - Quarter Guy

Jason - Laundry Guy

Enjoy the crack! :)

Jason immediately knew that the other wasn’t from Gotham. No one just offered anything without an immediate confirmation that they would get something in return. At least that’s how it was in Crime Alley. He and the other held small talk while they were doing their laundry.

“You just offer quarters to people?” He said sarcastically only to have an actual answer in return. “Only the cute people.” The other said with a somewhat joking tone.

“Uh huh. What’s ya name? I didn’t catch it.” Jason wouldn’t directly admit but this guy had peaked his interest even more.

“Well, I didn’t throw.” The guy answered with a smile that felt sarcastic with just a bit of wanting chaos.

The topic changed to other things. He learned that quarter guy had moved to Crime Alley awhile back, he didn’t give a clear reason why; “Just thought it’d be a good change of pace.”

He also learned that Quarter Guy was going to some kind of event with his godfather; saying that even though he agreed to go, he could still complain. And god did he complain but nothing sounded too bad. “He’s just a fruitloop, I wouldn’t doubt him trying to use me to get secrets from the other people.”

Jason didn’t share any too personal information; besides it just out of sceret identity and such but it would also feel weird to. Jason did complain about how he was more or less forced into agreeing to go to the Wayne gala, only not sharing that it was a gala or that it was a Wayne event.

“Maybe we end up at the same event.” Quater guy, who still didn’t tell Jason his name, joked. His laundry had been done before his own. Quarter guy left with a smile that only made him want to figure out why he felt familiarly even more. Jason was more curious about this guy than before but decided to hold off on figuring out more about it.

—

It was just meant as a joke. Danny really did mean as a joke but just his fucking luck(or honestly he was expecting CW to be the cause in some way), he was now looking at the guy he gave quarters to a day or two pior. He was standing next to the snack table, avoiding Vlad so he didn’t have to worry about talking to other rich people he didn’t trust. The snacks didn’t look good in any sense of the word, why did he expect rich people to know what good snacks look and taste like.

He was thinking about texting Sam to complain, knowing that she would say I told you so but that when he noticed the guy from his apartment building was there. It took a second to recgionze him since he seemed more put together and dressed nicer, but it was him. Danny wouldn’t have questioned it too much if the guy wasn’t standing next to Bruce Wayne but he was. Danny didn’t need to know any more rich people but life(or probably CW) had other plans.

He noticed that the guy hadn’t seemed to see him yet. Danny moved away from the snack table, going opposite from Wayne and the laundry guy; mainly focusing on staying hidden but a voice called him. “Danỉ͔͖̜͌ẹ̿͋̒̕l̙͖̑̾ͣ!” It wasn’t loud, at least it wasn’t to humans. It had just enough of a hint of ghost speak to have Danny turn to look. Of course when he had his back turned, Vlad had to go and speak to Bruce Wayne. “Come over, I’ve hardly seen you since we’ve arrived.”

Danny held back a sigh and eye roll as he went over to Vlad and Wayne; which also meant laundry guy. He had felt Wayne’s eyes on him as he went over, laundry guy hadn’t seemed to notice or frankly care enough to look. He looked at Bruce. He knew of “Brucie” Wayne and had wondered if it was just a persona like when Vlad used to pretend to be niceish to his dad. He side eyed laundry guy, who didn’t look at him at all.

“You didn’t tell me you had a so-“ Bruce started with a hint of curiosity. Danny was quick to cut him off. “He didn’t because I’m not.” That’s what finally got laundry guy’s attention, he looked at Danny for a second and Danny already knew that he recognized him. “Daniel, that was rude.” Vlad looked at him before going back to Bruce. “I apologize for him but he is right. He’s my godson.” Vlad said, leaving it to Danny to introduce himself.

“Yes, I do apologize for cutting you off like that.” Danny started. He used the tone he would use with some of the ghost nobles. It was a bit forced but relatively kind. He’d hate to admit and never would out loud but he learned it from Vlad. “It’s alright, I understand how words hold meaning.” He noticed how it sounded more real than “Brucie” usually did.

He just nodded before continuing, “Okay. I’ll introduce myself before Vlad tries to.” Danny made his tone sound just a bit joking. He felt laundry guy’s full attention on him. He smiled, a little fake and a little smug. “I’m Danny Fenton and as Vlad said, I am his godson.”

There was some “good to meet you”s exchanged. Danny picked up on the fact that Bruce nudged Laundry Guy to introduce himself.

—

Jason didn’t like Vlad Masters at all. He was creepy, all around weird and untrustworthy. He had only seen him a few times before, spoke to him barely unless with Bruce but something was off now. There was a strange feeling of paranoia around Vlad that he couldn’t place. Even with all his training from the Bat.

He had been staying relatively close to Bruce, not wanting to deal with questions or the other people which Bruce seemed to respect. He had noticed that Bruce had been trying to be better or very least trying to understand his perspective. It was something, it was better than nothing.

Jason had held back a groan as soon as he saw Vlad approach him and (mainly) Bruce. He tuned out most of everything, just looking at the other people around them. It was like every other time Bruce was stopped by another billionaire. Just stand there, vaguely pay attention and look at the crowd of other people. That’s how it was going until he heard Vlad call out to someone else.

“Danỉ͔͖̜͌ẹ̿͋̒̕l̙͖̑̾ͣ!“ He heard Vald call out to someone else. it sounded off, not by a lot but still. He didn’t show a reaction outside of paying more attention. He noticed Bruce didn’t show any slight reaction which was expected. Jason still didn’t care enough to fully look up at whoever Vlad had called over until Bruce had started talking and was immediately cut off.

Jason had recognized the voice right off the bat. He looked up and saw Quarter Guy or as he introduced himself, Danny. It was obvious that the other recognized him as well but spoke as if he didn’t. He thought of when he talked to him while doing laundry and how he joked about them going to the same event. He heard formalities go around when felt Bruce nudge him. A signal to introduce himself.

He faced Danny, taking note of how he acted like they hadn’t met and he decided to go along with it. “Jason. Nice meeting ya.” He said with a similar smile that Bruice Wayne was known for but each bat kid had their own distinct version of it. “Nice to meet you as well.” Danny said with his own smile, he noticed that it was a mix between genuine and fake.

Jason noticed how different the other acted compared to when they talked a few days prior. He took note of how he was not as talkative or sarcastic and just had a small sense of fakeness about him. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for people to have a more or less fake personas at galas but he found it interesting how the other did a complete 180.

“So Danny, this your first gala?” Jason asked. A bit genuinely curious and also since he knew Bruce would ask him at some point. Danny looked at Vlad for a split second before answering. It seemed like silent communication. “No and yes. I’ve been to a few before but this is the first one I’ve been to in Gotham.” He had kept the smile as he explained. “Vlad has dragged me to some all over. Although I mainly attend the few that are held in my hometown.”

Yeah, he was definitely lying about something. It was easy to guess especially when Danny looked at Vlad before he had answered. He didn’t outwardly question it or look at Bruce to see if he noticed it too, of course he had; world’s greatest detective or whatever.

“Well we’re glad that you decided to attend tonight.” Bruce spoke, or well Brucie did. Some of the others had personas similar to the Brucie one but Jason didn’t. He didn’t feel like he needed one especially after coming back. “How about Jason and you go off and do your own thing while I speak business with Vlad?”

Jason looked at Bruce for a second, they both knew something was sketchy with Vlad and instead of including him in getting more info on him, Bruce was pushing him off to Danny. Not that he was complaining but still. He looked at Danny for his response.

—

Danny looked at Vlad, a bit surprised that Vlad wasn’t one to suggest that although he would’ve been suggesting it as a way to get information against competition. Vlad just gave a nod to him, Danny held back a sign knowing that Vlad would still use it as an opportunity for that. “Sure, why not? Still getting used to the city and all.”

And with that, he was led away by Jason. He could already hear Vlad scheming. At least he would be the only ghost he’d have to deal with. Hopefully, he didn’t want to jinx himself. He just let Jason drag him away from Bruce and Vald, not really caring where they went.

They finally stopped in a more quiet corner of the gala room. It was less bright with less people which Danny was grateful for. He had attended more ghost galas than human ones. So the loudness that came with human ones was still newish to him.

“So, I guess we really did end up at the same event.” Jason said with a smug grin. Hopefully just making it known that he said it as a joke would make it seem as a crazy coincidence and not too weird.

Danny gave him a sheepish smile, “I swear I meant it as a joke.”

[writing-for-marvel]

Everyone’s Watching Him (But He’s Looking At Her) (3)

Actor!Bucky Barnes x Assistant!Fem!Reader

< < PART 2 | Series Masterlist | PART 4 > >

Summary: You’ve barely had time to recover from the controversial interview the night before, but it’s time for Bucky to step into the limelight yet again for his movie premiere.

Warnings: body insecurity and mention of reader sucking her stomach in, idiots in love, soft fluff, shy & insecure reader, jealousy, multiple POV switches, miscommunication, angst (yes, you read that right, though it’s me so you shouldn’t be surprised)

Word count: 4.6k (I may have gotten a little carried away)

A/N: photo credit to @justarandomgirly, banners by @vase-of-lilies

Main Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Taglist | Library

Sunshine creeps through the partly closed curtains, the brightness flickering against your closed eyelids causing you to wake from your serene slumber.

The bed is as soft as a marshmallow, and smells divine, like good quality fabric softener and an undeniable musky scent, which, when surrounding you entirely in the sheets, pillows and large duvet, is like coming home.

You’re still drowsy when you spread yourself out like a starfish, stretching all your joints that have become stiff with sleep. Which is when your brain kicks into gear and realises, in fact, this bed is much too large and comfortable to be your own.

Your eyes shoot open, and what you see confirms your suspicions that this indeed isn’t your bed. You’re met with a luxurious sized room, a large projector screen hanging from the ceiling against the wall opposite the king size bed and a chaise longue over in the corner beside a full length mirror.

Recognising it immediately as Bucky’s bedroom, you do a double take, checking to see if he’s in the bed beside you. You find your stomach sinks in disappointment when you realise you’re alone.

A soft meowing coming from the door catches your attention, but before you can shift positions too get a better look, a fluffy white cat jumps onto the bed and curls up beside your head. Much like his dad, Alpine was a little stand-offish at first, but once he became familiar with your presence, he’s been the most affectionate cat you’ve ever met.

“Good morning, handsome.” You murmur whilst reaching out to scratch under his chin. Alpine purrs in contentment. “C’mon, let’s see if your dad’s awake.”

James Barnes is of course not awake, though that doesn’t surprise you. He always needs a good eight hours of shut-eye, otherwise he’s in a horrible mood for the rest of the day.

Now that you’re wide awake, the memories of the previous night come back to you. In an attempt to distract Bucky from the chaos which would have been erupting online, you stayed up until four in the morning reminiscing, watching old movies and eating all the junk food in this extensive pantry.

Though from your last recollection you were still beside him on the couch, head resting on his shoulder as you became sleepy - you could only speculate that Bucky carried you to his bed after that.

You lean against the doorframe of his guest bedroom, coffee mug in hand and Alpine brushing against your leg as you take a moment to watch Bucky sleep. He looks so peaceful, his lips pressed together in a smile. You can’t prevent your mind from wandering to what exactly he dreams about when he closes his eyes at night, and the hope inflating like a balloon in your stomach that perhaps you have something to do with the subconscious smile he’s expressing.

After the ordeal the night before, you hate to wake him from the tranquillity he’s found for himself, rouse him into a day where all the headlines, both good and bad, will be about him, where his name will be trending on twitter, and all the gossip columnists will be speculating about who he’s dating and why he needs a prosthetic arm.

You wish you could protect him from the scandalous storm, but you also know he has a lot to do in preparation for his movie premiere tonight. The part of you who is employed as his assistant wins out this time.

“Bucky…” You coo gently from the doorway, hesitant to encroach on his personal space while he’s unconscious. You are just an assistant after all. Once you see him stir but not fully wake, you call softly again. “Buck, it’s time to get up.”

“Not yet.” He mumbles in response, making no effort to move or open his eyes, let alone get out of bed. You chuckle at how adorable he is when he’s tired. Most people would consider it being grumpy, you actually find it endearing.

“I made coffee.” You know those are the magical words to get Bucky Barnes moving for the day. He finally opens his eyes and they instantly meet yours, all you can think about is being the first thing he sees every single morning for the rest of his life.

“Thanks.” He says with a soft smile. “I’ll be right out.”

* * *

Bucky is still getting dressed when the doorbell rings.

He’s not expecting anyone, but he’s sure it’s just Maria coming over with last minute directives concerning the premiere tonight. A shiver runs down Bucky’s spine at the thought of stepping out in front of all those cameras again so soon after last night's debacle. It’s horrible timing really, but he doesn’t exactly have a choice but to attend, however reluctantly.

He’s buttoning up his shirt when he hears the distinctive sound of a toddler laughing, and he instantly knows who has paid him a visit.

When he exits his bedroom he’s met with four smiling faces. You, his darling sister, his best friend and their beautiful daughter.

“Buba!” She calls, not quite able to say his name yet.

“We thought we’d pop around after everything that happened last night. Much like her favourite uncle, Jamie has an infectious smile, and we think you could use some of that today.” Becks comments as she tickles her daughter's tummy, making her giggle. Bucky finds that contagious smile spreading over his features as his sister hands him Jamie, who, by the way she’s squirming in his grip, seems very happy to see her uncle.

He didn’t know it when he woke up this morning, but this is exactly what he needs to take his mind off yesterday’s disaster and his impending public appearance tonight.

You offer to leave, so he can spend time alone with his family, but he’s adamant that you stay. Bucky’s sure he will only ever be able to find true contentment and happiness with you by his side, because when you’re elsewhere, there will always be a fragment of himself missing.

The rest of the morning is filled with smiles, laughter and pure joy. His schedule has been so busy the last couple months with finishing the production of the movie in a different city and the press tour, that there’s a lot to catch up on in little Jamie’s life, as well as that of her parents.

“When are you going to tell her?” Becks asks in a low voice as the two of them make lunch in the kitchen, but Bucky can’t take his eyes off the scene playing out in the living room. He’s far too invested in watching you babble, laugh and play with his niece, the miracle his sister and best friend named after him, to care about anything else in the world.

“Tell her what?” Bucky asks, not paying enough awareness, even to his own sister, to figure out what she’s implying.

“That you’re in love with her.” This, however, does capture his attention and are perhaps the only words Becks could have uttered in order for him to take his focus from you.

“How do you know?”

“The way you look at her. Like she’s everything you’ve ever wanted and all you’ll ever need. Everything you’ve waited for.” Bucky chuckles, his sister knows him too well for her own good and he knows there’s no point in trying to deceive her - she also happens to be far too smart for her own good too.

“How come I could never see that between you and Stevie before you told me you loved each other?” It was the love found between his sister and best friend that made Bucky truly believe he too could find a love with someone that would transcend the remainder of his life. It may have taken him a couple years after that, but he then finally met you, and all fell into place.

“Because you were oblivious. Still are actually.” It’s now Becks’ turn to chuckle, but in a way that makes Bucky feel like he’s missing some vital piece of information.

“Why still?”

“Because you clearly don’t realise she’s in love with you too.” Bucky's entire world stops. All he can feel is his heart thumping so forcefully in his chest it might burst at any moment.

“You think- no, no she isn’t… is she?” Only in his fantasies do you return his affections. He’s dreamed, sincerely hoped, that bashful smile and twinkle in your eye when he says anything remotely flattering about you is an indication of something beyond friendship, but he’s never let himself fully believe that in fear of having his heart completely crushed.

Could you really love him?

“She’s the one who invited us around today, she thought seeing your family would be just the spark you need.” And that’s when he thinks his heart stops completely. You organised this? Without him asking or prompting in any way - you simply did it because you thought it would cheer him up? You knew exactly what he needed, what would brighten his day and you were content not taking the credit as long as he was happy?

“Buck, take it from someone who waited far too long to tell the person they loved that they indeed loved them - don’t wait. Stevie and I danced around it for years because he’s your best friend and I’m your sister. If you love her, tell her. It might just be the best decision you’ve ever made. It was for me.”

And with that Becks pats Bucky on the shoulder and leaves him with his l thoughts as she joins her daughter for feeding time.

Tonight. I’ll tell her tonight, Bucky pledges to himself with a new found surge of courage.

He just needs to get through the anxiety of this damn movie premiere without someone asking him why he’s missing a limb before he does.

* * *

After you bid farewell to the Rogers family, realisation sets in that it’s time to prepare for the premiere. You can tell by how tense Bucky’s shoulders are that he’s not looking forward to the occasion, which is a shame because he’s put so much time and effort into making an entertaining film for it to all be ruined by one bully interviewer.

And that’s what you attempt to remind him of, but to no avail. There’s a sharp, stabbing pain in your gut at the thought that, at least this time, you’re not enough to be able to cheer him up.

However begrudgingly, Bucky allows you to take him meet with his stylist for the final reveal of his attire for the night. After the award show season, he wants to go with a slightly different look, and Bucky seems to welcome the change.

“What do you think?” Bucky asks, strutting out in a navy blue suit with a cummerbund, doing a performative twirl just for you which makes you chuckle.

“I much prefer when I get to help you with a tie.” Is what you say, because you’re sure if you try to articulate how gorgeous he looks you’ll end up admitting he’s the most handsome man you’ve ever laid eyes on. The memory of helping you fix his tie last night flashes in your mind and your cheeks heat at simply the recollection of being that close to him.

“I’ll have to remind the stylist only suits with ties from now on.” Bucky smiles, his hands twitching in a way you hope indicates he wishes you were within proximity to touch. “Oh, I also have a surprise for you!”

He ducks back into the dressing area and for the minute it takes for him to return, excitement and suspense grow in your stomach. When Bucky comes back, he has a garment bag in his hands and a cheeky grin on his face.

“Try this on for me.” You try to protest, to object to him having spent any amount of money on you, but when he forces the garment into your arms and directs you to the dressing room with his large hands on your waist, you’re putty in his hands.

“Can you zip me up please?” You ask nervously, as you walk back out to model the gown for Bucky. You turn around and a wave of vulnerability overcomes you as he stares at your bare back. He slowly makes his way over to you, hands careful as he zips up the gown.

He looks at you in awe, but you’re sure it’s just because he’s used to seeing you in a pair of jeans and a band tee rather than an elegant dress.

“Bucky, I can’t accept this… this is far too beautiful and expensive.” You advise, though you're too busy admiring how the dress fits in the reflection of the mirror to fully appreciate the absolutely enamoured expression he’s regarding you with.

“Doll, it was made just for you, you wouldn’t want it to go to waste would you?” He says with a smile, unable to take his eyes off the dress and how perfectly it fits your body. He knows he’s going to have not so innocent dreams about it tonight.

“Thank you Buck, I promise I’ll pay you back.”

“No, you’ve already done so much for me, more than you know, please, let me do this for you.” You don’t push the matter any further, but make sure to express your gratitude again before leaving for the premiere. After feeling so out of place during the recent award show season, it means the world that Bucky would do this for you.

You feel confident in your custom dress when you arrive, not only because the gown you’re wearing actually fits you properly, unlike every other second hand dress you’ve worn to important events, but because of the way Bucky looks at you while you’re wearing it.

But when you get separated, him moving to the red carpet along with all the other exquisitely dressed celebrities and notable attendees, and you with the behind the scenes help, the distance between you allows space for doubt and uncertainty to creep in.

You watch Bucky greet his co-star, the gorgeous Sharon Carter. You can’t deny it, she looks absolutely stunning. Perhaps more than stunning, if that’s possible. A woman out of a man’s sexual fantasy.

A fire red dress plunges down her front, a long slit in the side shows off her tall, slim legs and taught material over her abdomen and hips leaves no room for questioning how flat her stomach is and the desirable curves of her waist. It makes you suck your stomach in, suddenly overly insecure about how your body looks in your gown.

It’s hard to breathe watching Bucky looking at her with such a genuine smile and an eagerness in his eyes that you could only describe as attraction. And that even though they’re in front of flashing cameras and being recorded for the entire world to see, you can see that he’s not feigning a second of it.

Everyone in attendance is abuzz with comments of how dashing they both look, but more notable, what a breathtaking couple they make.

Bucky’s hand slides lower and rests on the curves of her waist, making jealousy spread through your body and stomach churn with insecurity.

The ache in your chest is the painful reminder that it is only in your imagination where he is yours, even if in every version of reality you will always be his.

From that moment on you find it difficult to truly concentrate on the importance of the occasion, or the anticipation of seeing a blockbuster film before the majority of the world. You’re too caught up in the self doubting thoughts bouncing around your head like in a pinball machine.

The movie itself goes by in a blur. You try your best to remind yourself that Bucky’s playing a fictional character, but it’s difficult to sit through two hours of the sexual tension between him and Sharon which ultimately ends in a steamy sex scene.

The chemistry between them is tangible and you recognise that spark in his eye on the big screen as the same way he looked at her on the red carpet. It’s easy to convince yourself that there will never be that electrifying magnetism between you two when not only have they shown it while filming a movie for six months, but also have exhibited it right in front of your eyes tonight.

By the time the movie ends, it feels like someone’s sitting on your chest, every breath agonising, even though you have no right to be jealous. He’s not yours, he’s your boss, he’s never vocalised any romantic interest in you and quite clearly he’s capable of doing much better than you anyway.

The first person Bucky hugs as the credits roll is Sharon. Seeing him find solace in her arms is enough to push you to the edge - you need to get out of here.

As the cast is preoccupied by all the recognition and acknowledgements, you take the window of opportunity to slip out the side door, needing the fresh air and space between the setting bringing you so much anxiety.

You think you’ve escaped inconspicuously until you hear a door closing behind you. The way Bucky’s voice calls your name is like a warm embrace in the cold, lonely night and compels you to stop.

“Where are you going?” He enquires as he catches up to you, a confused furrow in his brow.

“I’m sorry Bucky, it was all becoming a bit too much for me in there, I just want to head home.” The concern brimming in his eyes is enough to make your knees weak and for you to forget that you’re actually incredibly insecure and jealous right now. Bucky knows you don’t like crowds so that’s the excuse you’ll stick with.

“Doll, why didn’t you just tell me? Let me drive you.” He offers thoughtfully without any further questioning.

“Bucky this is your night, you should be celebrating with your friends not driving me anywhere.” Your last wish is to inconvenience him, that’s why you attempted to leave unnoticed, because in the back of your mind you knew Bucky’s benevolent enough to try something like this on a night that should instead be dedicated to him.

“I want to make sure you get home safe. Please.” He looks at you with those puppy dog eyes you intrinsically know you’ll never be able to say no to, those same eyes which regard you with a tenderness you’re only familiar with from him, that make you feel more beautiful and treasured than all of the precious gemstones money can buy.

“Okay.” It should perhaps concern you how quickly you yield to him, but the elated smile which forms on Bucky’s face as you do is reward enough for conceding so easily. That, and the knowledge that if he’s with you, he’s not with Sharon.

“Thank you!” He exclaims, as if you’re the one doing him the favour instead of the other way around. His large hands cup your face as he leans in and kisses your forehead, much too quickly for your liking because before you’re even able to savour the feel of his touch he’s pulling away and rather all you can feel is the cold absence of where his contact was the moment before.

Bucky can see the shiver which runs down your spine and shrugs off his jacket before you even have the opportunity to protest.

“Here, take this, can’t have you feeling cold.” He places the large jacket around you without hesitation, making sure the shoulders are aligned correctly before his hands smooth down your arms before finishing in your hands. His proximity makes you feel dizzy and you’re suddenly hyper aware of how sweaty your palms are. Bucky looks down at you, eyes briefly flickering down to your lips as he licks his own, before settling on your eyes. Your desire to kiss him is about to overrule every professional instinct you’re attempting to exert, when he opens his mouth to speak. “Just wait right here, I need to say a quick goodbye to some people but I’ll be right back to take you home. I promise.”

He squeezes your hands as reassurance and before you’re even able to process the glint in his tender eyes, he’s disappeared inside.

You pull his jacket tighter around you as the wind picks up, losing yourself in the same captivating musky scent you were surrounded by this morning in his bed sheets. It’s soothing and reminds you that it was in fact you who was comforting him last night when he broke down. Not Sharon. You.

“Are you heading off?” A familiar voice asks. You look up to find Maria taking a drag of a cigarette, and for a rationale you’re unsure of, your grip on Bucky’s jacket becomes tighter.

“Yeah, Bucky’s driving me home.” You say with a smile you can’t suppress.

“Oh darling, he can’t leave the celebrations yet. He’s the star of the show!” Maria takes one last puff of her cigarette before she stamps it out with her red bottom shoes you’re sure cost more than your month's rent.

“But he-”

“Besides, I’m sure he’d much rather go home with his girlfriend.” If her words don’t kill you first the nonchalant tone she uses to implode your entire world just might.

“Girlfriend?” You choke out.

“Sharon - I mean, you saw how cosy the two of them were today? They’ve gotten awfully close after all those long months playing love interests.” Simply hearing her name makes your heart clench and brings back the suffocating envy you were feeling mere minutes ago.

“I guess.” Is all you can manage to say.

“Look, darling, you’ve had a long couple days working, you should head home! There’s a taxi rank just around the corner.” Maria almost pushes you forward, but with how weak and pliant you’ve become with self doubt, your body puts up no resistance. You mumble a quick goodnight before your feet shuffle you the rest of the way to the cab stand.

There was a small part of you that hoped, perhaps even believed, that Bucky reciprocated the overwhelming feelings of love and devotion you held for him.

Over time you’ve needed to syphon off larger and larger segments of your heart to be able to store your ever growing feelings for him and all the memories you’d made with him you refused to forget, until you realised that small section had instead become your entire, overflowing heart.

And you pondered that when Bucky looked at you like he didn’t even want to blink in fear of missing out on a single second with you, perhaps that’s what he was doing too.

But why should you trust your instincts when they’ve led you astray so many times before? When all it’s resulted in was the pain of heartbreak and rejection.

Why would Bucky Barnes, renowned playboy and the biggest movie star in the world, be any different?

To your dismay, it turns out he isn’t.

* * *

Bucky leaves the celebration with a pep in his step.

He’s going to take you home and tell you how he feels.

He can’t help the nervous twisting of his stomach at the thought of baring his heart to you. Revealing that his soul has become intertwined with yours and you carry his fragile heart wherever you go, but that there’s simply no one else in the entire world he wants nor trusts more to have that privilege.

He’s about to reveal his most closely guarded secret, open his heart and expose his most vulnerable side to you with the prospect of complete rejection. And as much as it scares him half to death, he’s taking his opportunity. Becks believes you love him, and that’s about as sure as he can be.

When Bucky rounds the corner, Maria is standing alone exactly where he left you and his heart squeezes tightly with anxiety.

“Where is-”

“She left, said she needed to get home and didn’t want to wait for you.” Maria informs flatly, but Bucky can’t believe it. You’re always so patient, so accommodating to his insanely hectic schedule, had you really grown tired of waiting on him?

“She left?” Bucky can hear the distress in his own voice. He looks around, desperately confused, feeling an abyss being carved into his chest as the realisation of your departure sets in.

He told you to wait right here.

He promised he’d be right back.

He was going to tell you he loves you…

Even though Maria confirmed otherwise, part of him expects to see you standing there, wearing his jacket over your shoulders and that shy smile of yours which makes his stomach perpetually flip. But there is nothing aside from the faint music reverberating from inside, and a cool breeze that reminds him you’ve left with his jacket, and his heart, without so much as a goodbye.

“She’s off the clock Bucky, no wonder she wants to go do her own thing, she’s not getting paid to cater to your every whim 24 hours a day. Besides, this gives us a chance to chat. I have to talk to you about Sharon Carter.” Maria platonically drapes her arm around Bucky’s shoulders and directs him back inside without knowing her words are like a knife to his chest.

Of course you want to do your own thing, you have a life outside of being his assistant, you don’t want to be around him every second of every day working. That’s why you were in such a rush to leave tonight.

How could he be stupid to mistake you doing your job for anything more?

“What about Sharon?” He doesn’t want to deal with any work talk right now, all he wants is to go home and nurse his bruised heart by himself.

“I’ve talked with her management, and we’ve agreed to push the angle that you two are dating.”

“No, Maria, I don’t want to do that, I’ve had enough of PR relationships.” You are all he wants. Bucky doesn’t want to have to hold hands, kiss and be excessively affectionate with someone else when it’s really you he wants to be able to do all those things, and more, with. He finds his palms are sweating at the mere thought of being able to do that with you, even if you don’t want that with him.

“James, it’s already in motion. Everyone’s speculating about who you’re dating after last night's interview, so we pushed the story before the red carpet tonight to drum up buzz about the movie. It’s perfect timing!”

Dread settles in the pit of Bucky’s stomach. The next week will be filled with press for the new movie and he’s going to have to play the part of Sharon’s devoted boyfriend when all he craves is to be yours. This was a nightmare he desperately wanted to wake up from.

Two hearts, connected in a way even their owners don’t understand, go to sleep that night feeling more alone and unloved than ever before, when in actuality they both dream of the same thing: being with each other.

Part 4 > >

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[froggyfics]

Strangers

People can go from people you know to people you don’t.

This can be read from the point of view of either a romantic or platonic relationship. However, I think this is even more heartbreaking if you read it from a platonic relationship perspective, because sometimes friendship breakups are sometimes just as hard :( 

I know Damian Wayne stans will come for me on this one, but I can’t help it! I feel like his personality would definitely hurt some feelings and cause problems in some relationships. 

The summary is from Selena Gomez’s song “People You Know”, which I think perfectly describes this fic!

Feedback is always appreciated. Feel free to message me privately or comment below to let me know what you think. Constructive criticism is always welcome! 

Pairing: Damian Wayne x gn!reader

Theme: Angst

Word Count: 1,567

You stop dead in your tracks. You couldn’t believe your eyes. Was that really him?

You squint slightly, examining him further. You instantly regret squinting though, because it only solidifies your hypothesis. It only confirms a recently acquired fear. A fear of seeing him in public. Up close. Alone. 

It's funny how seeing Damian used to bring you so much joy, but now, it brings you bone-chilling dread. 

Your breathing becomes abnormal. Sweat starts to precipitate in your palms and feet. Your heart skips a beat or two. 

What should you do? Should you continue in the direction that you were originally going in? Should you break out into a run? Do you keep your head down? Do you turn around? Should you wish for a black hole to swallow you up and spit you out anywhere else in this universe? Anywhere but here? Anywhere where Damian Wayne isn’t. 

His head was slightly down, as he walked with one hand in his pocket and the other scrolling through his phone. He hasn’t noticed you yet, but he was coming towards you. It would only be a matter of moments before the two of you be mere inches from one another. 

You shook your head in an attempt to get out of your trance. You knew that if Damian saw you in that moment, you would look like a deer in headlights. And then he would know. He would know in that moment that he still had an effect on you. He would know with just one look at your face that you were still hurting. He would know that you still thought of him. He would know that your heart was still broken. And if Damian knew all this, that would mean that he won. And you would be damned if you ever let Damian win again. 

It sounds childish to say, but having a relationship with Damian was like playing a game. Except you didn’t realize it was a game until your relationship disintegrated. You didn’t even know the rules, but Damian did, and he made sure that he changed those rules whenever it was convenient for him. That’s what being with Damian was like. His early childhood with his grandfather, Ras Al-Ghul, and his mother, Talia, primed him to be the next in line for the League of Assassins. This only inflated Damian’s ego, making him innately believe that he was truly better, stronger, faster, and smarter than everyone else. His father eventually was able to deflate his arrogance slightly, but being the child of billionaire and greatest detective alive Bruce Wayne further confirmed Damian’s belief that he was someone special. He was still better, stronger, faster, and smarter than most other people. He was meant for greater things. 

All that might be true. Damian is a very special person. He may very well be a more well-rounded human than 99% of the population. Most people in his life catered to his every whim. Most people didn’t care to discipline him or teach him a lesson in kindness. Bruce, Alfred, and other people in the bat-family tried their best to steer him in the right direction. But ultimately, people just excused his behavior because…well, he’s Damian! And Damian is just special, and he doesn’t face the consequences of his actions like most other people do. 

So, if other people couldn’t set him straight, why did you think you could? Why didn’t you let him continue using you as a doormat? Why couldn’t you just take it like everyone else? 

It’s because you loved him and saw his potential. Not his potential as a crime-fighting superhero, or a super genius, or a businessman. You knew it was in him. You knew he had the ability to soften up. You’ve seen it with your own eyes before. The kindness he exhibited towards animals was unlike anything you’ve ever seen. His ability to connect with other life forms that were considered “lesser than” humans was unbelievable. You saw how he cared for his family and friends by showing up when they needed him. You even saw how he secretly waved and smiled at babies and toddlers whenever he thought no one was looking at him. 

But you eventually became emotionally, mentally, and physically exhausted. Resentment began to build up. Every argument had to end with Damian triumphing over you. His word always mattered more than yours. His opinions were more important. He was always right, and you were always wrong. The last time you saw him was the night when things permanently changed. You would never forget his stone-cold expression as you cried for him, begging him to change. Begging him to treat you the way you wanted to be treated. You were pleading with him to show you some mercy from his harsh criticism and unwanted advice. You poured your heart out to him about how you were hurting so bad it felt like you couldn’t even breathe around him. You cried like you never cried before, bawling like a baby, wishing that he would scoop you up in his arms and whisper apologies in your ear. You wished that he would make promises to treat you like the fragile object you were.

What good did your outburst do? It only led to the end of you and Damian as you knew it. The two of you hadn’t spoken since then. You’ve seen glimpses of each other on social media, and caught each other’s glances at a few mutual gatherings. But now is the first time the two of you didn’t have the luxury of hiding behind screens or friends. 

You wanted to walk past him with an air of confidence, as if Damian was any other person. A stranger. Someone you never shared secrets with. Someone you never laughed with. Someone who never had a piece of your heart. Someone who didn’t infiltrate your thoughts almost daily. Seeing Damian in person brought buried memories to the forefront of your brain. Both good memories, and bad ones.

You felt like your feet were glued to the floor. But you had to move. You had to continue walking forward.

He got closer and closer. You gulped audibly. Your eyes began to water. Not because you were sad. Or mad. No, of course not. Your eyes were watery because you couldn’t blink. Or at least that’s what you deluded yourself in thinking in your frozen state.

His eyes were still glued to his phone. He was walking closer and closer. Your feet felt like they weighed tons. Your breathing became so erratic that you thought you would pass out. Your ears were ringing, the world around you was muffled. The only sounds you could hear were that of your own heart beating and his steady footsteps.

You were still frozen just as he nearly brushed your shoulder. He was so close you could see just about every vein and artery on his neck. Your eyes widen exponentially as you see his green eyes travel from his phone to your shoes, to your knees, to your waist, to your collarbone, and finally, to your eyes. You two lock eyes for the briefest moment, but it felt like an eternity to you. He caught you in your flustered state, with your shocked eyes, red face, and mouth gaping open. But Damian doesn’t stop walking for a single millisecond.

Just as you began to register what was happening, the moment quickly ends. He blinks and returns his gaze to his phone. Your jaw drops open. He knew who you were. He recognized you. And he still walked past you without so much as a hello. But that didn’t matter to Damian. You were someone that he didn’t know anymore. 

Anger ravages through your body. Tears threaten to leak down your face. Your hands form fists and you began to shiver as your icy hot fury spreads like an infection to your entire body. You weren’t even sure why you were so hurt. Didn’t you want to ignore him anyways? Why did it matter that he did the same to you?

Just as soon as the anger covers your body, it dissipates and is replaced by overwhelming melancholy. You knew why it hurt you. It hurt because this was once Damian, your Damian. You secretly hoped every single day that Damian would swoop back into your life, with a grand apology and promises of kindness. With every step that he took farther and farther away from you, you realize that your hope was shattered. Because Damian was never really your Damian anyways. It was your own fantasy version of him. No matter how much you wanted him to change, Damian had to make the decision to change for himself. In just a few short seconds, you realize that there was no one to really be angry with but yourself. Damian showed you who he was unapologetically. You chose to blind yourself to indulge in your imagination. You chose to let him treat you like that. You had only yourself to blame for being so naive.

You watch as his form becomes smaller and smaller as he walks away from you. As far as you can tell, he was completely unaffected seeing you. It was almost as if you two never existed. You let out a chuckle as you allow just one tear to escape. You gave yourself just one tear, before you inhale deeply for what felt like the first time in years. You then continue to walk, away from Damian, and away from your past. Who knows? Maybe you two will reunite in the future. Or maybe you two will forever continue walking past each other like you two were always strangers. 

[woso-fan13]

Sicktember 2023: 5

Preventative Measures (Not Taken) 

You managed to drag yourself out of bed this morning, despite the overwhelming ache and tiredness that was deep in your body. It wasn’t entirely unexpected that you would be tired and sore, you had really been beat up in the game yesterday. Ignoring the dull ache in your head, you pull on sweatpants and a sweatshirt without turning the light on. You would change when you got to practice anyway. 

Seeing as you had hit snooze on your alarm more times than you should have, you quickly pull your hair up and brush your teeth while shoving everything in your bag. Impressively, you make it out of your room pretty much on time, and you’re not even the last one on the bus. 

You slump into the first empty seat you come across, leaning against the window and closing your eyes. Too soon, the bus has parked at the field and you can hear your teammates gathering everything and getting off. 

You stand up with a sigh, grabbing your duffel and throwing it over your shoulder. You take just a second to take a breath, preparing yourself, before you join the chaos of everyone heading into the locker room. You quickly follow, starting to sing along to the song playing. 

You throw your bag into your locker, pulling your practice clothes out. You strip off your sweatshirt and pull your practice shirt over your head. As you’re pulling it down, warm hands stop you. 

You give Lindsey a questioning look, trying to tug your shirt out of her grip. She remains strong in her hold, fixing you with a look that makes you shut up and stand still. You watch as she pulls the hem of the shirt up, exposing your torso to the room. 

She gasps slightly, her fears confirmed. The noise alerts Emily, causing her to lean over and let out a little whistle. 

“I’ll admit, I’m impressed. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this before.”

Lindsey elbows Emily, causing her to start to protest, “this isn’t something to be impressed about, Emily, I- Honestly, I don’t even know what to do about this. I didn’t even know it was still a thing.”

“What are you guys talking about?” you ask confused and somewhat nervous, “why can’t I put my shirt on?”

“Buddy, are you feeling alright?” Lindsey asks, “do you feel sick at all? Or are you itchy?”

You take just a moment to take stock of your body before answering.

“I don’t feel perfect, but I was getting beat up during the game yesterday, so it’s to be expected.”

“But the itch?” Lindsey probes. 

“A little, I think I got some mosquito bites yesterday.”

Emily jumps in, “those aren’t bites, Y/N, those are chicken pox.”

“Wha- No, I can’t have chicken pox. Who even gets chicken pox anymore?” 

“You, apparently,” Emily chimes in. 

Lindsey rolls her eyes at Emily’s nonchalance, “how did you even get chicken pox? I thought you couldn’t get them if you were vaccinated.” 

Oh. 

“Umm, about that. I kinda don’t…” the rest of your answer is a mumble, neither women being able to understand. 

“Use your words, kids.”

“So, you guys know how I’m not 18 yet, right? And I can’t make my own medical decisions no matter how bad I want to. My mom’s kind of a nut and refuses to get me any vaccines because apparently she thinks they’ll kill me or something.”

Your voice is quiet by the end, unwilling to admit to your adult teammates that your mom could have prevented you from getting sick, but she read a blog and is convinced she’s saving you.

Lindsey grabs your chin, guiding you to look at her, “hey, this is not your fault, okay? It’s all okay. We’ve got you, you’ll be fine.”

“Besides,” Emily chimes in, “not like you can get us sick.”