#i'm sitting here with my tropes bingo and you know this one was on it

[nickfowlerrr]

i never thought you’d happen to me - 2

part one / part three

pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader

warnings: 18+ only. smut, fluff, bit of angst. time travel via magic. dad!bucky and mom!reader. steve x nat. some morally dubious homemade porn viewing 💀. if i’m missing anything that should be tagged, please lmk!

words: 6.7k

notes: this idea came from a prompt post i saw not too long ago and coincidentally fell into some bingo spots for my @the-slumberparty bingo card. fair warning: this is so completely self indulgent and a little trope overload lol but i had such a good time working on it and it was fun to write so who really cares 😌 thank you in advance for reading and reblogging! as always, comments and reblogs are more than welcome and so appreciated. please let me know what you think!

Back at the house, your house, you wander around the living room as Bucky sits on the tablet in the kitchen, consumed by whatever it is he's looking through.

You stop at the large bookshelf that's screwed into the wall, the picture frames all around catching your attention.

You smile at the baby pictures of the twins, admiring their tiny faces as you and Bucky each hold one, looking down at them like they were the only things in the world that mattered. You note how close you are to Bucky in the photo, practically in his lap as you lean into him.

Your eyes drift down the case before landing on a gorgeous shot, breathtaking, really.

You're in white, the elegant dress you don seemingly straight out of your dreams as you recline into Bucky who stands behind you, his arms around your waist as your hands cover his. You're smiling as he appears to be whispering something in your ear, a smile of his own evident as he does.

It's intimate and delicate and it seizes your heart as you can't seem to take your eyes off of it.

Your mind can't seem to make sense of it, though.

How do you get from here to there? How can you ever have this life? It seems so unreal.

Bucky can’t stand you more than half the time,  he's made that fact abundantly clear. So how the hell does he go from that to this? What changes? Why?

The sound of your name being called gets your attention as you wipe at your welling eyes. You hadn't noticed it happening, but you felt it when you finally blinked and looked away from the photo.

"Yeah?"

"My card is linked to this thing apparently, I was gonna order food."

"Okay," you breathe.

"What do you want?"

"I don't care. Whatever is fine," you brush off as you finally turn around and meet his eye. "I'm gonna shower."

He doesn't respond, but he doesn't take his eyes off of you either, watching you intently as you pass him and walk back to the room.

----

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. The car ride back to the house seemed longer without the twins there to distract you from your close proximity to Bucky. And being alone together once you finally got back, despite the huge space allotted to you in this house, still seemed stifling. There was a growing tension between you that was more than ready to break.

You weren’t unfamiliar with the feeling. 

It seemed to be ever present when you two were around each other and only intensified the longer you were alone with one another. 

As you began undressing, starting the water for your shower, your mind wandered to the last time you found yourself in such close quarters with him. 

You were both beyond exhausted when you’d gotten back to the tower after your mission. It hadn’t gone as smoothly as anyone would have hoped, but you got the job done, if not just a little worse for wear. 

You were leaning against the right side of the elevator, facing the door as Bucky stood closer to the left side, facing the same direction as you. It was quiet, and though your body was sore beyond belief, you mentally chided yourself for not just taking the stairs. You’d just finished giving him a piece of your mind after he made yet another unhelpful comment about how you could have easily avoided being flung down a flight of stairs earlier. 

Crazy as it might have seemed, receiving a play by play of every tiny misstep you’d taken after a mission as grueling as that one didn’t go over too well with you. Especially as you stood with bandaged ribs, miscellaneous cuts, bumps, and bruises all over your body, and what you were sure was a concussion causing the throbbing in your head. 

You closed your eyes as you let your head rest against the wall, one hand on the rail and the other holding your duffel. 

A sudden jerking had your eyes snapping open as you held tighter to the railing to keep your balance, the light above shutting off briefly before a dimmer one returned as the elevator completely stopped moving.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you groused under your breath before sinking down to the floor in utter exhaustion. The elevator had been on the fritz since before you had even left for the mission last week, you assumed they would’ve gotten it fixed by the time you returned. Clearly you were wrong.

You watched as Bucky hit random buttons on the panel in front of him in a vain attempt to get the thing to move again. You wanted to say something snarky but just sighed exaggeratedly instead. After a moment, still no words spoken between either of you, Bucky took out his emergency phone and called for help.

You didn’t pay much attention to his conversation as the pressure in your head grew, but his next words caught your attention completely. 

“What the hell do you mean an hour?” he nearly growled into the phone. 

You couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation well but there were only so many people he could have called at this hour that would be able to help and the snicker that made its way through the line had you betting on Stark.

He hung up and chanced a glance to you, meeting your gaze. “Might be a while,” he huffed before looking away. 

He approached the doors of the elevator and you winced at the sound they emitted as he pulled them open slightly. He was greeted by nothing but the walls of the elevator shaft before he allowed the doors to close again. You watched as he checked the time on his phone before he sat down himself. You let your eyes shut again, your tiredness winning out in the quiet settling over you. It was maybe ten minutes later when you were rudely awoken by Bucky.

You were impressed with his bravery because you could still feel your irritation roiling off of you from your earlier exchange. Your eyes were still closed when you felt his fingers brush against the bruise on your jaw. 

“What?” you asked harshly, swatting his hand away from you as you shot daggers at him with your glare.

“Considering how often you find yourself in the med bay, you’d think you’d know the basics of what not to do when it comes to head trauma.” 

“Jesus Christ, you just never fucking stop, do you,” you huffed before snapping completely. “I get it, Bucky, okay? I’m a fuck up, I’m reckless and careless and I don’t think before I act, is that what you wanna hear? Are you happy now? I admit it! I’m everything you say I am. But at the end of the day, I have never put you or anyone else in harm’s way. And just a reminder, I got the files and took out everyone I needed to along the way by myself. So I don’t know, maybe give me a little fucking credit for once,” you raged, the pain in your body only adding to your anger.

“This isn’t about me or the mission getting done or anyone else,” he fired back, his tone catching you off guard, though you refused to show it, “I’m never worried about any of that. But you are careless. Look at you! You put yourself in needless danger over and over again, and yeah, it pisses me off. You always end up hurt when you never should have been in the position to get hurt to begin with. You think I enjoy seeing you like this? I’m your partner, I’m the one who’s supposed to have your back and yet every assignment, you continue to go out of your way to make it damn near impossible for me to do.”

“Your job isn’t to keep me from getting hurt,” you deflected, not wanting to focus on the way his words were making you feel as you flicked your eyes away from his burning blue ones. It was too confusing. A mix of care and chastation you were having trouble processing at once. 

“And yours isn’t to get killed in some pathetic attempt to prove yourself,” he shot back before his tone quieted significantly. “You have nothing to prove,” he finished. 

Your gaze softened at that, a sense of embarrassment coming over you at how clearly he saw through you; The simultaneous feeling of validation his last words offered had the previous tension you felt in your anger lightening before you let your eyes slowly return to his.

There was a thick silence between you as you looked at one another, nothing but your slowing breaths to be heard. His gaze wasn’t as harsh now, but it still took a lot out of you to hold it. The intensity his eyes held was unmatched. You hadn’t realized before, how much closer he had gotten to you, but it was evident now as you nearly felt yourself buzzing - suddenly all too aware of everything in the confined void you’d found yourselves in. 

And then, you couldn’t say why or how, but you found your eyes falling to his lips. A stuttered breath leaving you as inadvertently leaned in a bit closer to him. 

That wasn’t you, though, you’d realized after a split second, one hand reaching up to hold the rail. 

The elevator jolted a bit as it began to move again, only a few seconds passing before the ding signaling its arrival at the top floor sounded. You were still looking at one another, maybe more intensely than you’d realized, when the doors slid open.

“Uh-oh, did I interrupt something? Let me guess, lover’s quarrel?”

Your gaze quickly turned into a glare as you both turned to see Tony waiting at the doors for you.

You rolled your eyes and got up as quickly as you could, trying to hide your winces of pain as you did. 

“Fuck off,” you said as you brushed past him.

“Is that your catchphrase now?” he called after you, “Ya know, I like it, it suits you.”

You remember how embarrassed you were after that night, praying that Bucky hadn’t noticed where your eyes had drifted to, or if he did that he’d have the decency to pretend he hadn’t. You’d chalked it up to a moment of weakness. You weren’t stupid enough to expect him to return your (very well kept to yourself) feelings. You never expected anything out of him, and honestly you’d been trying to shake them yourself since you’d been partnered up. You avoided him for a good week straight after that night, and neither of you has brought it up since.

Even now, you could pretend all you wanted that those feelings didn’t exist, but deep down, you knew they were alive and well. And clearly, as you looked again at the picture of you and Bucky sitting on the bedside table, it wasn’t something you could believably go on denying much longer.

The shower helped. Kind of. You feel better physically, but your mind is still dead set on trying to figure out the future. You take your time drying off and getting into a clean pair of pajamas while Bucky waits in the kitchen.

He's scrolling through every app he can, trying to piece together his future as it stands. And if he's being honest, trying to figure out how the hell he was able to get you to stop hating him. How he was able to get you to fall in love with him..

He opens up the photo library, grinning as he sees photo after photo of the twins, and some family photos, pictures of you, pictures of him, intermingled in.

He backs out of the gallery and scrolls down mindlessly through the albums. His eyes land on the "Hidden" tab and he clicks on it without too much thought, his face unlocking it and granting him access.

His eyes go wide, his mouth goes dry at the images that liter the screen. 

He should close out, look away, something, but he doesn't. The scandalous photos grab him and he just can't. One icon in particular catches his eye and he clicks on it without thinking, the video playing instantly.

He watches the screen intently, hunching over the tablet as he holds it tightly in his hands. Sees himself leave from in front of the camera, his movement revealing you as you wait for him on your bed. You're peering up at him attentively as he approaches you before you spare a glance to the camera and then back to him. A soft smirk playing on your lips as he towers over you, causing you to look up further and further as you recline until you’re on your back. 

“Hi,” you simper breathily, earning a smirk from him in return.

“Hi,” he breathed, leaning ever closer.

He watches as you scoot back on the bed and he follows you, his hands tracing down your curves, fingers playing with the material of your lingerie before he drops his head and begins trailing kisses from the softness of your stomach, up your sternum and along your neck before finally your lips meet.

Bucky is completely enraptured in the scene playing out before his very eyes. He’s sitting here feeling jealous of himself as you run your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to you before you bring a leg up around his hip, arching your body into his own.

It’s sensual at first but you both seem to grow impatient quickly as your kissing heats up and becomes more and more hungry. 

Finally, you slip a hand down and tug at the waistband of his boxers until he pulls away. 

Bucky can see your face perfectly, your eyes are dark as you push yourself up onto your forearms, watching him.

Instead of ridding himself of his boxers right away, he slowly, teasingly drags your silky underwear down your thick thighs as you watch him with heavy eyes, your legs spread just for him.

“Look at the camera,” he hears his own voice command.

Your eyes flick from him to the lens as Bucky swallows thickly, still completely unable to look anywhere but you. 

You gasp suddenly as he quickly buries his face between your thighs, your fingers tightening in his hair as your head lolls back some. Your soft moans begin tumbling past your lips as he focuses his attention solely on you, devoted and unrelenting as you mewl and writhe under his ministrations.

When a whimper of his name leaves you, it causes Bucky to shift in his seat, trying to ease the ache growing in his shorts as he watches you rock yourself against his face.

“Buck,” you moan, “please,” you whine with a tug of his hair. 

He watches as your toes curl, feet arching, and your entire body seems to tense around him, your eyes squeezing shut as your mouth hangs open until your legs quake and you let out a tight, shaky whimper on an exhale. You bite your knuckle in an attempt to keep yourself quiet while he continues working you through your orgasm. 

When he finally lets up and gives you a chance to collect yourself, he moves up your body, finding your lips as he kisses you again, leaving you even more breathless than you had been.

“It’s just you and me tonight, doll. Don’t hold back on me,” he kisses you again, his hands going around your back to undo your bra. “I’m gonna wanna hear you when I watch this back,” he smirks.

You're completely naked as Bucky stands before you, finally taking off his boxers. “Turn around for me,” he tells you. 

You do as he says, getting on all fours with him situated perfectly behind you. He angles you both so the camera has a better view. Bucky watches as he teases your entrance with his tip, over and over again as you whine and wiggle your ass in pure desperation for him.

He keeps the volume low as he lets the video play, he isn’t sure how much time passes as his eyes are glued to the screen, watching himself take you as you let him. He listens to how prettily you cry for him, to the salacious sounds of his cock driving into you over and over, the wet squelching mixing with the slapping of skin as he fucks you hard.

Bucky feels his cock twitching in his shorts as he watches you come for him before hearing himself groan deeply, moaning while he empties his load into your pretty cunt.

He watches the come down, sees himself running his hands along your skin, peppering kisses all over your body, before you roll over beneath him, pulling him down to you and kissing him desperately.

He is entirely unsure about the morality of this all, but he can't look away.

"Fuck, you're amazing," he breathes heavily as he pulls away from you just so. "Thank you, sweetheart," he grins lazily, stroking your cheek.

"Mmm,” you hum contentedly as you look up at him before continuing, “If anyone ever sees this, I'll kill you," you promise him with an 'I mean it' stare before pulling him back to you, crashing your lips together.

"No one'll see it, doll. I promise. For my eyes only," he says as he nuzzles into you. "You have no idea how much I miss you when I'm gone, baby."

"I think I have some idea," you respond, the sultry tone of your voice effortless as you wrap a leg around him.

It looks like you're about to go for another round, and the thirty minutes left in the video seem to confirm that thought, when Bucky hears the door of the bedroom finally opening.

He quickly closes out of the video, sliding the tablet away from himself before trying to hide and adjust his very obvious erection before you come in.

He clears his throat loudly, a bit awkwardly, as you enter the kitchen, earning a questioning brow from you as you walk toward the pizza box.

"You good?" you ask him as you grab a slice, not bothering with a plate.

He nods a bit too stiffly for your liking as you assess him. His cheeks are a little flush and he can't seem to look you in the eye.

"What did you do?" you question accusatorily.

"Nothing. I'm gonna shower now, if that's alright with you?" he questions haughtily.

You make a face at his tone, rolling your eyes as you turn around to grab a glass for water.

He doesn't mean for it to happen, but as you turn from him, his eyes fall to your ass, and he has to work to stop the groan that threatens to tumble from his lips as his mind replays the video for him.

Fucking creep, he chides himself as his cock twitches again. He takes the opportunity to stand and get to the bathroom as your back is to him.

---

You're on your third piece of pizza when Bucky returns to the kitchen, grabbing a slice for himself.

He's spent the last half hour going over in his mind exactly how you two could have possibly ended up here. He's still confused. And at his wit’s end.

Bucky speaks before he can think better of it.

"Why do you hate me?" he asks, seemingly out of the blue, causing you to turn toward him with quizzical eyes as you swallow your bite.

"Excuse me?" you ask in disbelief.

"Why do you hate me?" he repeats himself, his gaze never faltering as he holds your stare.

You're honestly dumbfounded.

You sputter for a second before attempting to form actual words. "I don't hate you, Bucky," you answer as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. And seeing your future, you were pretty sure it must have been. "I mean, clearly," you add a little embarrassed for yourself.

"No? Then why do you act like you do?"

"I -,” you’re about to deny the accusation, but truthfully, you know he’s right. So you pause before giving the only answer you can come up with. “I don't know. Self-preservation?"

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Defense mechanism. I mean, you've been a complete dick to me since day one, Bucky. Am I supposed to just let you ream me whenever you feel like it - justified or not. And for the record, most of the time, it's not. You treat me differently from everyone else, sidelining me over nothing, questioning my every move, and I don't know why but I stopped trying to figure it out a while ago," you spoke candidly.

He was quiet for a minute as he took in your words. You watched as his brows furrowed, his gaze dropping as he licked his lips mindlessly.

"I'm sorry," he finally said at last. It was soft, but sincere as a pained look seemed to have taken over his face. "I never meant to make you feel that way. But clearly I did. It's just.. you're so stubborn," he says with a shake of his head as his eyes meet yours once again. "I do treat you differently. Because, truthfully, you fucking terrify me. You can be reckless; you act like you're expendable, and you're not. You're the furthest thing from it. I just don't want to see you get hurt. And maybe I was too scared to actually voice that aloud before, but it is the truth. I don't know, I guess, I thought I was keeping you safe somehow, protecting you. And I know you don't need me to. I'm sorry. For being a dick, for interfering when I shouldn't have, and for not talking to you about things before. I am sorry."

You’re silent and quietly awed at his admission, swallowing hard before forcing yourself to break away from his brilliant blue gaze.

"Thank you," you accept, not knowing where to go from here. "Good to know you don't hate me," you add.

"Yeah, same here," he smiles softly. Another moment passes before you speak again, something unspoken growing between you.

"So, just to be clear, was that you admitting that...you like me?" you ask, hearing how juvenile you sound but not really caring all that much.

"That was me admitting that I care about you."

You take a breath and nod, "Oh, okay. So, you don't like me?"

"I didn't say that," he almost scoffs.

"So you do like me?" you ask again with a furrowed brow.

"Jesus, doll," he laughs lightly, "We're married."

"Not yet," you counter.

Bucky walks toward you, pizza long forgotten by you both as he suddenly gets to his knees before you while you stay seated in the chair, his face right about level to yours as you watch him with stilled breath.

His eyes are blazing a fiery blue as he holds your gaze. You have to blink at the intensity.

"I like you," he breathes quietly, careful not to break the soft air of intimacy as you stay so close to each other, earning a small smile from you in turn.

"I told Kate I had a crush on you during recruitment, that's why she always makes comments about us going on missions together so often," you admit unprompted, the urge to tell him the embarrassing secret you'd tried to keep hidden from the moment you let it slip to Kate just overcoming you.

Bucky smiles boyishly at that. "Steve was convinced from the beginning I had a thing for you, that's why we go out on missions together so often."

You can't fight the half smile that adorns your lips at his words, "Was he right?" you question. 

He nods.

"He was right," he whispers as he leans in closer to you. "Does our future not make that obvious?" he teases.

You don't think as you lean into him, one hand finding the back of his head and raking your fingers through the soft, dark brown strands as you breathe a bit heavier with anticipation, you watch as his eyes close at your touch, leaning ever closer. You’re sure he can hear the uptick of your heart as he meets your gaze once again, before your eyes flit to his lips. 

You shrug, a playful tilt to your lips.

"I can think of some other things that might make it more obvious," you murmur as you let your forehead press against his own, waiting for him to close the distance between your lips now.

His hand comes up to gently hold your face before he slowly brushes his lips against yours. 

It's soft and gentle as you kiss him again, but after a moment, one kiss turning into another and then another, your lips press harder against each other, hotter as it intensifies, your hand gripping his hair ever so slightly as he kisses you back just as hard before finally you force yourself to break away.

You shudder a breath as you part, catching your breath, but neither of you drop your hands.

Bucky's thumb gently strokes your cheek as you gaze into one another's eyes. So much unspoken, and yet so much being shared with the look alone.

The ringing of the tablet breaks you two up, though, as a FaceTime call pops up.

The contact is Natasha and seeing her name has you grabbing for the tablet and accepting the call right away.

"Hey," she greets as the sound of a movie playing in the background mingling with the giggles of children and fake cries for help from Steve can be heard just beyond her smoky voice.

"Hey, what's up? Did something happen?" you ask, hoping you don't sound as uncharacteristically panicked as you feel.

"That's what I was gonna ask you two. There a reason your daughter keeps twirling around shouting 'fucking dick' into the air every ten minutes?" She asks.

Your brows raise in surprise as your mouth parts open on nothing.

Bucky titters at the thought of that precious angel twirling around with a mouth like a sailor - a mouth like her mother. He smirks, answering for you.

"Yeah, that'd be thanks to her mother over here."

"Why am I not surprised," Nat responds.

"Sorry, she was mimicking me this morning and we didn't tell her to stop," you grimace. "Hey, can you put them on really quickly?"

"Yeah, that's actually the real reason I called. They wanted to say goodnight before they go to bed," she says as she walks into the living room.

"Linc, El, got some folks who wanna talk to you over here."

Your eyes light up as their perfect little faces fill the screen as Nat holds her phone for them.

When they register it's you and Bucky on screen, they smile brightly, calling out to you both.

"Hi, munchkins," you smile at the screen, Bucky right beside you.

"You guys getting ready for bed?" he asks.

"We're ready, Daddy! Just have to say goodnight to you and Mommy."

"Yeah we have to say goodnight so - and then we can sleep,"

You chuckle as Lincoln rubs his tired eyes.

"But I miss you Mommy," he pouts at the screen.

"'S okay, Linc," Ellie says as she takes her brother's hand, comforting him easily. You swear you're on the verge of tears as you smile at the sweetness.

"Sweetheart, I miss you, too. We miss both of you very much. But you guys are gonna have so much fun tomorrow! And we'll see you so soon, I promise. You two be good and listen to your Aunt and Uncle, okay? Oh, and Ellie,” her eyes widen as you say her name, looking attentively at your face on screen, “let's keep 'fucking dick' just an at home thing, alright?"

She giggles at your words but nods, "Okay, Mommy."

"Alright, goodnight you two," you say softly, not sure you’re ready to call it a night with them knowing what tomorrow is promised to bring.

"Goodnight, Mommy. I love you," they respond in unison.

"I love you more."

"Daddy's turn!" Linc calls for his father.

"Goodnight, Daddy," he says when Bucky leans further into the frame before you hand him the tablet to hold completely.

"Goodnight, Daddy," Ellie smiles.

"I love you," they say, again in unison. The sound is the cutest thing you've ever heard.

"Goodnight, guys. I love you more," he finishes with a soft, almost sad smile of his own before they run off the couch and chase Steve out of the room with the other kids. Nat offers you both a goodnight and a happy anniversary, parting with a wink before she hangs up.

"Those are ours," you say after a moment, astonishment lacing your tone.

"Yeah," Bucky chuckles. "We made those little punks."

"Ya know, I don't think we did too bad considering it's our first day."

"No, we were great. Naturals. They had absolutely no clue we'd never known them before today."

You laugh at that before the silence grows between you again. It's not something unusual for you guys, but the hot tension mounting in this moment in particular certainly is.

Bucky is still kneeling beside you, his large hand settled on your thick, plush thigh.

You scoot back, your weight pushing the chair. The movement allows his hand to smooth over your skin, sending sparks through you and raising goosebumps under his touch.

You try to pretend that it didn't send sparks alight in your belly as you move back further and stand, Bucky turning his gaze to follow your movements.

The sight of him on his knees before you, looking up at you with those devout blue eyes, it has your stomach fluttering as you take a deep breath.

He stands after a second, towering over you once again, somehow even closer now as you look up at him.

"What now?" you whisper.

"That's up to you, doll," he responds, voice lower than you've heard it before, his warmth radiating off of him and into you.

You see his hand twitch by his side, like he's holding himself back from reaching out and touching you again.

"Well," you swallow, "they said it's our anniversary, right?"

"Mhm,"

You raise your brows, shrugging the tiniest bit as you nervously lick your lips.

"You wanna celebrate?" you ask, your voice a little tight and heady as you flick your gaze back up to the darkening oceans of his eyes.

His lips crash into yours without another word, his speed catching you off guard as you gasp into his mouth. Bucky lifts you up like you weigh absolutely nothing and your legs circle around him as he holds you up, his lips never ceasing as he walks you out of the kitchen.

You only part to catch your breath, your forehead against his as he strides into the bedroom, your heavy breaths intermingling. Your hands are in his hair as your arms are wrapped around his neck.

He sets you down on the bed before backing away, granting you space you didn't ask for. You look at him, clearly not happy with the distance he'd put between you. Before you can say anything, Bucky speaks first.

"Are you sure you wanna do this?" he asks intensely.

You look at him for a moment, hoping he can see the sincerity in your eyes. "If I'm being completely honest, Bucky, I've wanted you from the moment I met you. I wanna do this," you answer him. "I'm sure. Are you?"

Bucky pulls off his shirt as you breathe a sigh of relief, a soft titter escaping you as you watch him. He steps closer to you, taking your face in his hold, kissing you deeply. “I’m more than sure,” he speaks against your lips before pushing you back on the bed. The move has a scene playing in his mind and has him hesitating from going further as shame creeps up on him.

“I-,” he squeezes his eyes shut as he thinks through what he’s about to admit to, “I need to tell you something first.”

“What?” you ask, worry clear in your voice.

“I, well.. Hold on,” he says before getting up and leaving you sitting on the bed confused and concerned. 

Bucky returns with the tablet in hand as you eye him.

He looks like a kid about to confess his wrongdoings, eyes down on the tablet as he approaches you slowly.

“I, uh. I came across this, and.. Uhm,” he clears his throat, “I,” he takes a heavy breath, “I.. watched.. it.” he says stuntedly. “Well, not all of it, but more than I should have..”

You’re confused as he hands the tablet over to you, but take it with a quirked brow.

An image of Bucky shirtless is on the screen and you trepidatiously hit the play button, wondering what the video could possibly be. 

Your eyes go wide as you see yourself on the bed in lingerie, Bucky sporting nothing more than a pair of tight boxers. You look up at Bucky still standing before you as a blush grows on his cheeks. You watch, still wide eyed as it goes on. You’re on your back, Bucky leaning over you, and god help you, there’s a tingling in your core growing as you look on.

“No way,” you say in disbelief as it suddenly connects in your mind, eyes flicking back and forth between him and to the screen. “Is this-? Did we-? And you watched it?” you ask, scandalized as your gaze shoots back up to him. 

He rubs the back of his neck self consciously, avoiding your gaze. “I know,” he says sheepishly - you’ve never seen him like this and it’s honestly a little entertaining, a bit endearing. “I’m-” your moan coming from the speaker cuts him off and grabs your attention as you look back down at the screen, mouth going dry as your core is anything but. 

“Fuck,” you breathe as you watch Bucky on his knees, between your legs. You almost stop breathing before you look away, catching yourself and pausing the video. “Uhm. Well, that’s- this is.. Unexpected. I mean, obviously we- they- have.. sex, but, a sex tape?”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have watched it, especially not as far as I did, and I just-”

“How far did you watch?” you ask, cutting him off.

You watch as he swallows hard before sitting down next to you, taking the tablet and scrolling to about the point he had stopped when he closed the video.

“Twenty five minutes?” you ask with a light laugh, looking at the time stamp, the screen paused on a still of you pulling him down on top of your naked body. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again, clearly ashamed of himself. You can’t help but laugh, loving how remorseful he seems.

“‘S’okay,” you say with a light shake of your head, pulling the tablet from his hand and locking the screen, tossing it on the opposite side of the bed. It’s not until you straddle his lap that he looks at you finally, his hands coming up without thought to hold your waist. His eyes twinkle with something akin to wonder. “I get it, can’t blame you,” you admit, your arms draped over his broad shoulders before slipping them behind his neck. “It’s hot,” you speak sultrily, leaning closer to him, allowing your lips to brush his briefly.

His eyes fall to your lips as he breathes headily, pulling you flush to him as he holds you tighter. “You think?”

“Mhm,” you nod, your chest brushing against his bare one with your every breath before you finally let yourself kiss him once again, your noses brushing against one another. 

His arms still holding you, Bucky turns you both onto the bed, ending up above you as you continue your soft makeout. His hands wander your body, touching and squeezing your softness lightly as you sigh under him, your hands wandering his body in turn. You feel like a teenager, experiencing something you’d only thought about in the far recesses of your mind for the first time, it’s intimate and exciting and you don’t even care to take this any further, your focus only on feeling each other, on being this close.

The ringing of the tablet, though, breaks through the moment. You glance over as Bucky continues kissing you, his lips on your neck as you try to read the screen - but it’s too far and out of your reach.

“Bucky,” you urge him, causing him to finally break away from you, turning to look at who was calling. 

His eyes squint as he sits up, reaching for the tablet and answering the call.

“Steve?” he answers in question. 

“Hey, sorry to interrupt, Buck. Linc’s having a hard time going to sleep, he wanted to talk to you again, I told him I’d give you a call.”

“Yeah, yeah, put him on,” he responds.

There’s a sniffle before Lincoln’s soft voice comes through the speaker, “Daddy?”

“Hey, buddy, it’s me. What’s going on, having trouble sleeping?” he asks, sitting up more attentively as you watch him.

“Miss you,” Lincoln answers solemnly, you can imagine him rubbing at his teary eyes already as you hear him sniffle again, your heart clenching at the image. “I need Wolfie, Daddy. You forgot to bring Wolfie,” you can hear his pout over the line.

“I’m sorry, pal,” Bucky apologizes sincerely, despite neither of you having had any knowledge of “Wolfie” being a necessity. “How ‘bout we bring you Wolfie?” he asks before looking over to you briefly.

“Yeah, can you bring him to me please, Daddy?” he puffs.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll bring him right now, buddy. Don’t worry, we’ll be there soon, I promise.”

“Okay,” he says, voice wobbly. “Love you, Daddy,” he adds breathily on a huff, sounding on the very verge of tears. 

“I love you, too, buddy. We’ll be right there.”

“He’s on his way, champ,” Steve says as he takes it off speaker, bringing the phone back to his ear. “Sorry, guys,” he offers to you both.

“Don’t worry about it, we were just, uh,... hangin’ out,” he says, scrunching his face at his own stupid response as you give him a ‘what the hell’ look, your hand gesturing of its own accord.

“Oh-kay,” Steve says at the odd response, “What is up with you guys today?”

“Uhhh,”

“Wait, don’t tell me.. Are you guys expecting again?” he asks, voice hushed.

“Yeah,” Bucky answers stupidly on an exhale, your mouth dropping while you gawk at him. 

“Really?” 

“No,” Bucky answers quickly again, “I mean, maybe. We don’t- we’re not sure. We don’t know,” he tries to remedy his previous baseless answer. “Look, I have to find Wolfie, so I’ll see ya in a minute.” He doesn’t wait for Steve to respond before he ends the call on his end.

“What the fuck was that?” you say on a titter.

His face is in his hands as he sits on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, “I don’t know.” His response is muffled by his hands as you crawl over to him, pushing on his back to make him stand up.

“Go get the wolf,” you say as you push on him.

As he stands, you get off the bed, too, throwing his shirt at him before he turns to the door. 

“Ya know, you’d think you’d be better at this,” you taunt, earning a glare from him as he heads to the kid’s room down the hall. 

“Can you go start the car?” he huffs as you watch him walk away.

You stifle a laugh through your nose, “Mhm,” you answer before heading down the hall yourself, grabbing the keys on your way out.

As you turn to close the front door, you’re surprised as Bucky’s already behind you, the plush white wolf in hand. 

“You’re so slow,” he teases, taking the keys from your hand while you blink up at him, a smirk on his face as he passes you while you just watch, your turn to huff. 

“Dick,” you accuse as you follow him, his smirk only growing at your insult before he gets to the passenger door, holding it open for you to get in.

[margowritesthings]

MARGO'S 1K CELEBRATION I - TROPE BINGO

Y'ALL. I can't believe this. 1,000 is such a mind boggling number to me, considering these weird word children would otherwise just be sitting in my brain on their own. I can't thank you enough for your support over the last year. this blog is one of the best things that has happened to be, and now that i'm pursuing my dream of becoming a published writer i truly believe it has changed the course of my life. YOU have changed my life. thank you for being there to read and support. i love y'all.

soooo reading and writing romance is basically my only prsonality trait, so why not celebrate 1k followers with the thing that got me here! im putting you guys as the star role in your own romance- follow along the steps below and send me an ask with your trope and character selection + any extra info.

STEP 1 - PICK A TROPE (please pick up to 3 tropes!)

➼ friends to lovers ➼ enemies to lovers ➼ s/he falls first ➼ one night stand ➼ grumpy x sunshine ➼ small town ➼ billionaire ➼ mafia ➼ forced proximity ➼ marriage of convenience ➼ fake dating ➼ second chance ➼ one bed ➼ childhood sweethearts ➼ surprise pregnancy ➼ why choose? (send up to 3 characters for a reverse harem ship) ➼ random!- i will use a generator ➼ writer's choice- i will choose based on your profile (mutuals only)

STEP 2 - PICK A SHIP there are 3 ways to get your ship:

➼choose a fandom (or multiple fandoms) from the below list and I will choose for you (the more info about yourself you provide the better this choice will be) ➼choose a specific character from the fandoms in the list (or multiple and I will choose) ➼(mutuals only) tell me your fandoms and I will choose for you based on your profile/what i know about you/what you provide me with (even if the fandom ISNT on the list below)

FANDOMS PARTICIPATING IN THIS CELEBRATION: ➼ red dead redemption ➼ bridgerton ➼ marvel ➼ starfield ➼ fallout ➼ skyrim ➼ stardust ➼ star wars ➼ doctor who ➼ daisy jones and the six ➼ mad men

STEP 3 - EXTRA INFO

IMPORTANT- INCLUDE YOUR GENDER AND SEXUAL ORIENTATION IF LETTING ME CHOOSE THE SHIP. Add anything about yourself you want me to know. If you're on anon, this is very important!! I cannot make anything personalised for you if I do not know anything about you. Any icks, anything you want me to include, turn ons, etc. Basically provide me with anything you think might help me make the best gift for you!

RULES

➼ Followers only please, I cannot police this as I have asking on anon enabled, but this is a celebration for my followers so if you are gonna enter please do ensure you are following me

➼ Likes and reblogs are really appreciated! if you do enjoy my work you can also check out my masterlists which can be found here or buy me a coffee here!

➼ At the least, I will be able to make a moodboard for your ship + tropes, but if the inspiration strikes me I will write headcanons and drabbles too. These are a bonus and should not be expected with every entry

➼ 18+ - some of these tropes will include explicit detail, so 18+ only please

➼ Please grant me patience! i am doing this alongside a full time job and have some personal stuff on, but i do want to celebrate so im trying to fit this in as best i can. please be kind and respectful of my lil internet space :)

➼ all posts will be tagged #margo's 1k celebration

tagging my frens to say THANK YOU cause i couldn't do it without ya <3: @inkandbloodbound @cowboydisaster @musicallisto @saradika @sickvictorianangel @alottanothing @twola @photo1030

[banannabethchase]

Supernatural, Cocky - also on AO3

~

Julia and Brody have to deal with the consequences of their actions: babysit the amnesiacs.

~

*wiggles magic fingers* We do not question the timelines of this series. The magic is creating time compressions. Shhhhh. Tis the finale of the House of Black Magic series! It is also the finale of my Bingo board for square G3! A double finale in one. This series was incredibly hard to write - brand new tropes, my least favorite fic framing device (supernatural/magical elements in non-magical canon my eternal rival), and the Pressures made this series a kick in the pants. But it's done, and I'm proud of it, and I hope other people enjoy it! Title from Moonlight Magic, like all the fics in this series. And, without further ado:

~

Julia’s blinded for a second before she hears Matt Jackson speaking down to Page like he doesn’t know him.

“Malakai,” she says. “Malakai, what happened?”

He starts swearing. “Get them in here,” he says. “And then you and Brody are getting everybody you cursed in here.” He sighs. “I think my magic was premature. I intended to wipe the lingering magical effects, not their entire identities.”

Julia stomps out and grabs Matt’s arm. “Get in here.”

Matt turns to her, giant, pretty eyes blank. “Who are you?”

“I’m your worst nightmare,” she growls. “Now get in the room.” She looks down at Page, looking surprisingly innocent and sweet on the floor. “You, too. Get your boyfriend to cooperate.”

“Boyfriend?” Matt says. Julia turns to him, and he’s lit up like a Christmas tree as he stares at Page. “You’re my boyfriend?”

“If the lady says so, I suppose.” Page draws himself to his feet, almost sheepish as he smiles at them all. “C’mon, sir. Let’s get in the room. I’m ain’t feelin’ quite myself.”

“Do I have a boyfriend?” Cutler asks, looking sad. “Or a girlfriend? I don’t even know my own name and I’m already a third wheel.”

“Jesus Christ,” Julia grumbles. “Just – go sit! Malakai will figure you out.”

She slams the door behind them. She has to find Brody – he has the worst timing to go get lunch. She misses her magic in the moment. She keeps bumping into people she would otherwise be able to skip past.

Brody’s snacking on some carrots, mid conversation with Danhausen, when Julia gets to him.

“You, go anywhere else,” she snaps.

“Danhausen does not appreciate your attitude,” the weird little creep says. “But he understands that this must be stressful for you what with losing your powers, so Danhausen will depart.” He stares at her. “But he will request an apology at a later date.”

“Whatever – Brody, come on.” She grabs his arm and yanks him toward the room. “We have to check on everybody we, um, interfered with. Magically.”

“Why?” Brody asks. “Danhausen and I were planning a toy run.”

“Yeah, well, Matt fucking Jackson opened the door when Malakai was mid-spell, so everything got messed up,” she hisses, low and quick under her breath. “So we’re on collection duty.”

“Collecting what?”

“Everybody we magicked,” Julia says. “Jesus, Brody, keep up!”

“You could be kinder about it,” Brody grumbles, allowing himself to be dragged by Julia. “Who’s next?”

They find Danny and Yuta, bickering with each other even without memories, and throw them into the room with Matt, Brandon, and Page. Malakai looks more and more furious as each person joins the room.

“Have you stumbled upon Castagnoli and Nick?” he asks.

“We didn’t affect them with our magic,” Julia says. “Why would we?”

Brody snickers. “Oh, I know what happened.”

Julia turns to him. “Share with the class.”

“I used my magic on Castagnoli back in WWE,” Malakai says, dropping his head into his hands. “And, from what I understand, he used the…gift, I gave him, you could say, with Nick.”

“Hah!” Julia says. “You aren’t perfect after all with the magic.”

“Watch yourself, Princess,” Malakai demands. “And go find them.”

Brody yanks Julia by the arm before she can say anything else, and they continue their search. It’s not hard to find the younger Jackson - Nick is walking around confusedly with a headset on, as if looking for someone. And they manage to find Claudio frowning in the BCC’s locker room.

“Oh, hello,” he says, annoyingly charming as always. “I don’t suppose you would be able to assist me with something.”

“With what?” Julia asks.

“I seem to have forgotten my identity,” Claudio says, and it’s so casual Julia could almost mistake it for a normal conversation.

“You’re Claudio Castagnoli, Swiss, and you like coffee,” Brody says. “Now come with me so we can get that identity back.”

“Of course I like coffee,” Claudio says, but at least he walks with them willingly.

“Get – go sit,” Julia says. “And nobody make out or anything.” She specifically glares at Nick, who’s looking at Claudio like he’s a piece of meat and Nick is hungry. Malakai is flipping with absurd speed through a glowing blue book Julia’s not even sure is corporeal.

“Isn’t he my boyfriend?” Matt asks, pointing to Hangman. “Wouldn’t we be expected to make out?”

“Not when you have no memories. God, you – watch the stupid show.” She turns on the channel to the feed of the network. “Great. Jurassic Park. You’ll love this.” Julia turns to see Brody watching the screen. “Get – Brody, come on!”

They search the venue and can’t find the Dark Order anywhere. After some attempts at covert questioning, they’re not booked today.

“I’ll text Alex,” Brody says. “See if he’s okay.”

Julia’s eyes narrow. “What do you mean text?”

He looks down, frowning. “What, I’m not allowed to have friends?”

Brody texts Alex, then gets a call back.

“Hey,” Julia hears Alex say. “What’s up?”

“Do you know who you are?” Brody asks.

Julia rolls her eyes. “That is not how you ask.” She takes the phone from his hand. “What’s your name?”

“Alex – Reynolds, is this Julia?”

“Yes,” she says. “Where are you?”

“I’m at home,” Alex says slowly. “Are you okay?”

Julia frowns. “Good.” She hangs up and gives the phone back to Brody. “Looks like people were only affected if they’re close enough to the venue and were strongly affected by the magic.”

“Which means we also need to find Kris and Willow,” Brody says. “And Mox.”

Julia groans. “Goddamnit. I hope his boyfriend isn’t here.”

“He’s not,” Brody says. “He’s got some house show.”

Julia raises an eyebrow. “How do you know so much about Seth Rollins?”

“Leave me and my google search history alone,” Brody grumbles. “Come on. Let’s go find everybody else.”

~

Mox is in the shower, staring at a wall in his clothes, in the BCC locker room. He hadn’t made a sound when they were in there before, which might be the strangest part of all of this.

“This is – fucking weird,” Brody says, turning to Julia. “Moxley? Hello?”

Mox turns to them, face blank. Julia’s beginning to wish she had her powers just to be safe. “That me?” he asks. “Moxley?”

Brody nods. “We can help.”

“Cool,” he says, frowning. “Woke up with no memory. Figured a shower would help, but…” He trails off as Julia turns off the shower, his clothes dripping. “Forgot to take my clothes off.”

“That’s probably a good thing,” Julia says, as gently as she knows how to be. “Come on. We can probably fix this.”

“You’re not gonna, like, kill me?” Mox asks.

“Definitely not,” Brody assures. “We save that for the ring.”

“Ring?” Mox looks down at his hand.

“Wrestling ring.” Julia leads Brody and Mox toward what she’s now referring to, in her head, as the cat herding room.

“Stay here,” she says, “see that guy in the back?”

Mox turns and nods. Malakai is hard to miss even without magic that allows you to see beyond the corporeality.

“You got questions, anybody messes with you,” Brody explains, “you talk to him.”

“New guy,” Matt says, “why are you wet?”

“And that’s my cue to leave,” Julia says.

“Be back soon,” Malakai says, voice deadly calm. “I’ll need both of your assistance.”

~

After mild begging, Julia gets Kris’ phone number from Chuck.

“Are you gonna try to kill her with your weird magic again?” Chuck asks, frowning. “She told me everything.”

“I’m going to try and protect her from magic,” Julia says.

Chuck frowns. “What the hell did you do now?”

“Just give me the number so I can fix it!”

She calls Kris five times in a row. She’s about to panic when, on the sixth ring, someone answers. They sounds out of breath.

“What the hell is so important you can’t let me get laid?!”

“Willow?” Julia asks.

“Yes, it’s Willow,” she snaps. “Six calls. In two minutes. I can only assume this is Julia.”

“Where’s Kris?”

There’s mild snipping and shuffling, and a new voice speaks. “I’m between Willow’s legs. Can you call us in, like, an hour? Or never?”

Julia blinks. “So you two – you know who you are?”

“Yes, somebody trying to get laid in a hotel.”

“And your names are…?”

 Kris groans. “Oh my god. I’m hanging up.”

There’s a click.

“Did you just cockblock Willow and Kris?” Brody asks. Julia decides not to acknowledge that he’s fighting laughter.

“Shut up,” she grumbles. “You have Ricky’s number, right?”

Brody nods and dials. Maybe, if they’re lucky, Ricky and Eddie are off in the hotel, as well. Maybe it’s just people here right now.

“Hello?” Ricky says. “Surprised to hear from you, Brody, after everything.”

“Where are you?” Julia demands.

“I’m sorry, how did you get my number and why do you think you get to demand a goddamned thing from me?” Ricky says on his phone.

“You remember who you are, but you’re booked this week so you’re definitely not at home,” Julia says mostly to herself, frowning. “How? Are you at the venue?”

“My boyfriend and I,” Ricky says, ice in his tone, “are attempting to have a nice lunch out together without interference from meddling idiots. Apparently, we didn’t do enough to prevent it.”

“Fine,” Julia says. “You two seem to have avoided the magic.” She hangs up while Ricky’s still complaining. “Brody, Eddie and Ricky seem okay.”

“That’s good,” he says, exhaling. “So…”

“So now we have to get back and see if Malakai has fixed things yet.”

When they arrive, Malakai is flaring reds and stark whites. Never a good sign.

“Are you good, man?” Brody asks. Buddy is next to Malakai, his magic a pool of soft, dusky oranges and forest-floor greens around him as Malakai borrows his magic.

“I’m fine,” Buddy says, “but Malakai here may be ready to commit murder.”

“Ready implies I’m ever unable to do so,” Malakai says, not lifting his eyes. “Glad to see the two of you back.” He closes the book and stands, using magic from his hand to lift Buddy to standing. At the very least, Buddy looks content and happy. “The only responsible magic user of mine and I must go solve this problem without people bitching around me nonstop.” His glares land on Matt, Nick, and Mox. “So, now you two get to babysit them,” Malakai says, striding to the door, gesturing to the rest of the people in the room. “I have to go do research on my own.”

“What?!” Julia and Brody yell in tandem.

“You two caused these problems,” Malakai says, leveling them with a glare. “You two will help me fix it. And the only way for you to help is if the two of you stop getting in the way for five minutes and I lock you in a room.”

“It was all her idea,” Brody says. “You know that, right?”

“Suck up,” Julia mutters, but the worst part is that he’s right.

“Your responsibility is to keep them in this room to the best of your abilities and escort them anywhere else they have to go to,” Malakai says. “Buddy and I will be elsewhere solving this problem of yours.” He reaches up and runs his fingers through Buddy’s hair. Buddy arches into it, and Julia is suddenly very struck by how much she screwed up here.

“Okay,” she says. She hasn’t felt like she’s disappointed Malakai like this before.

The door closes behind the two of them, and she and Brody turn to see all the others staring up at them.

“Matt,” Brody says, “why are you braiding Nick’s hair?”

There’s no response for a second.

“You, the one braiding the hair,” Julia says. Matt’s head snaps up. “What are you doing?”

Matt shrugs. “He has nice hair. I like braiding. I was bored.”

“Did – did you ask him to do that?” Brody asks Nick.

Nick shrugs. “No, but it’s nice.”

“Ugh, brothers,” Julia says, flopping on the couch next to Claudio. He offers her a bland, almost politically polite, smile.

“Brothers?” Matt asks. He drops Nick’s braided ponytail and steps in front of him. “We’re brothers?”

Brody nods and sits on the arm of the big chair that a dripping wet Mox seems to have commandeered. “Yeah. It’s a whole thing with you two.”

Matt flops onto the couch next to Page, who moves an arm to throw around Matt’s shoulders without a second thought. “You must be the older brother,” Matt says, and Julia’s a little baffled at how easily he curls into Page’s side, even without a memory.

“Why?” Nick asks. Despite being fully in a conversation, Julia catches him repeatedly glancing over at Claudio.

“Well,” Matt says, gently, “you’re a little taller, for one. And you’ve got that hairline thing going.”

“I do?!” Nick stands and looks at himself in the mirror. With a little shuffling, he yelps when he finds a bald spot. “I must be older, based on the hair.” He looks over at Matt, with an expression surprisingly bitchy for the Buck Julia can usually stand a little more. “You’ll lose yours soon, I assume.”

Julia snickers. “This is fun. I genuinely don’t think I’ve enjoyed myself like this since I got my belt.”

“Why?” Matt snaps, leveling her with a glare.

“Because you’re all still just as annoying without your memory.” She stands and gestures to the couch, where Brody sits easily. When he puts his hands on her waist, she drapes herself over him. “Also, Matt’s the older brother.”

Matt’s jaw drops. “I am?!”

“He is?!” Nick asks. He looks at himself in the mirror, pushing back his hair. “Fuck, I’m screwed.”

Julia blinks. “Did you just swear?”

“Yeah,” Nick says. “Why?”

“You and Matt have a thing about swearing,” Julia tells them. “You say second-grade shit like ‘what the eff’ and ‘eff you’ instead of being an adult and saying fuck.”

Nick wrinkles his nose. “That can’t be right.”

“Maybe we’re above that kind of language,” Matt says, and he mirrors Julia’s position, only on top of Page. Julia rolls her eyes. Even mind wiped they’re cute.

“From the look of it, you’re just annoying,” Mox says.

Danny and Yuta pause from where they’ve been bickering quietly in the corner. It strikes Julia as very possible this is the first time they’ve realized other people are in the room. “Do I know you?” Yuta asks, frowning toward Mox. “I feel like – I think I’ve heard those words from that voice before.”

“You two are in a faction together, along with this one,” Brody says, clapping Claudio on the shoulder. Claudio jumps. “Oops. Sorry.”

“I’m alright, thanks,” Claudio says. “Faction?”

“Like – okay, we’re all pro wrestlers. Right?”

Julia watches as Matt’s, Nick’s, and Danny’s eyes lightup like sunbeams. “We are?” Danny breathes.

“Yeah,” Julia says. Unfortunately, this is kind of fun. “Yeah, most of you guys in here have won some sort of big ass match or whatever.”

Brandon grins. “We have?!”

Julia grimaces. “Well. Okay, maybe not big matches, but big for you?”

“I can’t get anything,” Brandon mutters.

“You do have a boyfriend, I think,” Brody says. “He’s at home though.”

“It appears statistically unlikely that all those in this room would be partnered with men,” Claudio says. “Are you joking with us?”

“Okay, first off,” Julia says, “we’re in wrestling, so we’d call it a rib. Second.” She pauses as Brody adjusts her on his lap so she can get a better look at everyone in the room. “Second, no, I’m not joking.”

Claudio huffs. “Well then. I suppose at some point we have to prove a rule using the exceptions.”

“Why are you fucking with the vibes, man?” Mox asks. “You’re not the one dripping wet in a…” He trails off. “Is this merch for the channel where they show Doctor Who or something?”

Julia can’t help but laugh a little. “No, that’s the BBC. You – and him, and him,” he points to Yuta and Claudio, “are all part of the Blackpool Combat Club. The BCC.”

“I can assure all of you, I’m not from Blackpool,” Claudio says. Which is weird for someone with no memory to claim.

“None of you are,” comes Brody’s soothing rumble from behind Julia. “It’s a long story, but you guys have the name in honor of another dude. William Regal.”

Mox blinks. “That…somehow feels familiar.” He turns to Julia. “Is my name Dean?”

“Oh, no,” Julia says. “Not, um. Not anymore.”

“Okay,” Mox says, but he looks uncertain. “Then who am I?”

“Jon Moxley,” Julia says. “That’s who you are.”

The room goes silent for a moment. It’s a little unsettling.

And then the Shield theme rockets through the room.

“I think that’s you, Mox,” Julia says gently. “You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to.”

Mox pulls out the phone and reads. “Seth…” He looks up at Julia. “I love Seth, don’t I.”

“You do!” Brody says. Julia can feel his excitement.

“Hello?” Mox says. “Hi, yeah – I love you, right?”

Julia can just make out Seth saying, “Yeah, of course you do. And I love you, too. Are you okay?”

“I think my memory. Um.” He looks up at Julia. “I don’t know what to say.”

Julia takes the phone. “Hey, Seth.”

“Who am I speaking with?”

“Julia,” she says. “Julia Hart.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. “Oh, god. Did you make him the feral animal man again when I’m not there?”

“No!” Julia says. “No, that, um. That one was actually on Malakai. Sort of.” She pauses. “It’s not relevant. You know who you are?”

“I do,” Seth says slowly. “Does Mox?”

“Actually,” Julia says, “he heard the ringtone – your old Shield theme – and knew he loves you.” She tries not to gag at how infuriatingly romantic that is. “Which is, I don’t know. What he feels for you overrode elemental chaos magic. That’s pretty impressive.”

Seth, and the whole room, are silent. “Can you put him on the phone?”

Julia hands it back to Mox.

“Hi,” Mox says. Julia’s never heard him speak this way.

She can’t hear what Seth says on the other end of the line, but Mox starts tearing up.

“Here,” Page says, leaning over Matt. He hands Mox a box of tissues. “It’s alright, man. Let it out.”

“One week he’s drinking blood, another week he’s being emotionally aware while being mindwiped,” Brody mutters in Julia’s ear. She laughs.

“What?” Page asks, frowning. “You got somethin’ against men showin’ emotion?”

“No!” Julia says. “Just – okay, recently you got in a match with a guy where you drank his blood. It’s a big shift.”

Matt’s eyes go wide and he turns to Page, who looks similarly disturbed. “You drank somebody’s blood?”

“I – apparently so,” Page replies.

“Don’t worry,” Matt says, shifting on Page’s lap. “I think that’s kind of hot.”

“Oh, god,” Yuta says, rolling his eyes.

“You get covered in blood all the time, too,” Julia says. “He,” she nods over to Mox, who’s hung up the phone and is patting his cheeks dry, “beat the crap out of you in a match, and you wrote BCC on your chest in your own blood.”

Yuta’s face goes a bit blank.

“Damn,” Danny says. “Okay, big man. Maybe you would win in a fight.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying this whole fucking time,” Yuta mumbles. “Hey, lady in charge.”

“Me?” Julia asks.

“Yeah, you,” Yuta says. “Are he and I a thing?”

She nods. “Yeah. We, uh. Brody and I body swapped you while back and you two have been together ever since.”

Yuta turns to Danny. “You wanna make out?”

“No!” Julia says. “Nobody is making out when you don’t have memories!”

Danny grabs Yuta by the front of the shirt and hauls him in, and Julia decides that fighting their basest instincts to fuck and fight each other really isn’t worth it.

“I assure you, ma’am, I will not be participating in any of this,” Claudio says. Julia’s eyes flick to where Mox is scrolling something on his phone with a smile on his lips, where Matt and Page and gazing into each other’s eyes, where Danny and Yuta are practically going at it on the floor.

“At least somebody’s listening,” Brody sighs.

“I’m listening!” Brandon says. He stands up and falls on the couch next to Claudio. “I’m not making out with anybody.”

“That’s because Reynolds is at home,” Brody replies. “Don’t worry. You have your own person.”

Brandon visibly relaxes. “After all this, I’m going to call him. Just to…just to know.”

Nick grumbles from where he’s still messing with his hair in the mirror. “Glad to hear everybody else is in love or whatever.”

“I –”

“I wouldn’t get into that if I were you,” Brody murmurs in her ear. “That one was Malakai’s fault, in the end.”

“Good point.” She looks back over at Nick. “I’m sure your memory will come back any time, and then you’ll remember that you and your friends and your brother created this company and you’ll be all happy again or whatever.”

Nick pauses. “I…created a wrestling company?”

Julia nods. “You and Matt, a guy named Tony Khan. Big wrestling mark, our boss. Two guys named Cody and Kenny, but Cody’s not here anymore.” She tries her best sincere smile. “This exists because a bunch of weird nerds took a chance.”

“The insult feels unnecessary, but okay,” Nick says. He relaxes, looking content.

The rest of the afternoon ticks by so slowly Julia feels like clawing out of her skin. She puts on another movie – Transformers seems least likely to cause problems – and waits for Malakai. And waits. And waits.

“The show’s going to start soon,” Brody says. His leg is bouncing so hard Julia’s slipped off of his lap and next to him. She’s a little squished between Claudio and Brody, but she’s distracted.

“I know,” Julia mutters. “Do you think we’re in serious trouble?” She glances around the room. Not everybody in here has a match, but most of them have something to do this evening. She leans in closer. “Should we start worrying about their memories yet?”

“No,” Brody says quietly. “I think we’re good.”

“Think?”

“Hope.”

Julia buries her face into his arm until he reaches out and pulls her in. “It’s going to be okay, Jules.”

“I know,” she says with a sigh. “But I miss my magic.”

“I miss mine, too,” Brody says. He adjusts her hat.

There’s a lot more she wants to say. She can see the effects of her actions around the room, though some are less negative than others.

She waits a little longer, until the ending scenes of the movie.

“We’ve got it.”

Everyone in the room looks up at Malakai.

“Everyone affected, stand.” His glare toward Julia and Brody is clear as day. They stay seated.

Malakai turns the deepest red, blood and rubies sparkling in a sunrise before a storm. He spins his magic in front of him. “Return their minds,” he speaks, in a language Julia doesn’t know how she understands, “return their memories but take none of the past few hours. Keep them whole.”

The red is almost too powerful. Looking at it hurts, somewhere deep in her mind, but she forces herself to keep looking. She wants to know how the magic can fix all of this.

If she knows how to fix it, maybe she can use it better next time.

It swirls and grows, with Malakai carefully instructing its placement. The magic seems to have a mind of its own, but Julia can understand that they’re lucky the ideas of the magic seem to align with theirs. She’d never known how powerful it was until she sees it laid over the bodies of her coworkers, working to turn them back to themselves.

Time, she’s fairly certain, has stopped. And then it hasn’t.

The room settles back to normal, the red dissipating until it’s nothing but a faint fog, and then gone.

“Okay,” Page says, shaking his head. “That was the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me, and that’s saying something.” He wiggles his hand at Matt, who laughs.

“I don’t want to know,” Malakai says, dropping his head in his hands.

They go around the room, Malakai asking very pointed questions to ensure all memories have returned.

“Alright,” he says, nodding. “It feels appropriate to release all of you at this point. If anything – and I mean anything­ – feels like it’s wrong, you come to me.” He glares at Julia and Brody again. “You hear me? Me only.”

The group of recently re-memoried wrestlers nod and mutter in agreement as they leave.

“Thank god that’s over,” Brody says, falling sideways on the couch. Julia would be annoyed, but she’s just as relieved.

“Oh, it’s not over,” Malakai says. “Buddy, find a safe seat. We need to have them meet with the true origins of their powers.

“Meet with – what?:”

She can’t react. The world is swirling colors and patterns that Julia can’t name or understand, and she feels suspended.

Now you understand the responsibility of the magic, she understands through what’s around her, now you know that your motivations come second to mine.

“Who am I speaking with?” she asks. It’s less words than lightning coming from her.

The deepest of magic is the most dangerous, Julia understands, but lighter level magic also harnesses my power. Your Malakai has done his best to educate you on his own, but you required further reminders of your powers.

“I’m sorry,” Julia says with sparks. “I didn’t – I hadn’t realized –”

But you do now, Julia understands. And using magic as a toy is your way to lose it forever. And possibly your life.

Julia feels fear like liquid ice run up her spine. “Is this how I die?”

No, child, Julia understands, death is not for you for many years, if ever. Immortality can be given to those who wield power well and carefully. Do you think yourself capable of this?

“I don’t know,” Julia whispers with the flicker of a candle.

Good, Julia understands, for if you were sure so early, it would be proof you are not. Julia feels the whisper of a caress against her cheek. You are prepared to be a leader, little Princess. You will become Queen. But lessons will be learned along the way. Julia feels the liquid ice melt into comfort. And you’ve learned your first.

“Thank you.” Julia’s voice is a spark again. “I won’t – I’ll be more careful next time. More intentional.”

My princess, Julia understands, you may have some of your magic back. You will continue to earn more as the years go by, as long as your intentions remain true and you demonstrate the intentionality. It’s a brush like lips against hers, a touch Julia would do anything to feel again.

And then her eyes open. And she’s on the couch next to Brody.

“Holy fuck,” Brody says, his eyes opening. “What was that?”

“That,” Malakai says, looking far too calm for the situation. Buddy’s got his head on his lap, content. Little suckup. “Was the Goddess.”

“The Goddess?” Julia asks. “We – we spoke to the person we get our powers from?!”

Malakai nods, carding fingers through Buddy’s hair.

“I thought we got our powers from you,” Brody says. He rests his hand on Julia’s thigh until she takes his hand.

“If you’d listened,” Buddy says, “you’d know we’d always gotten our powers from the Goddess.” He looks up at Malakai with unbridled adoration. “Malakai is our conduit.”

“Did she forgive the two of you?” Malakai asks. “Do you have your powers back?”

Julia presses her lips together and holds out her hand. Her colors are slightly different now – a hint of magenta instead of pure red, but the majority is ocean-teal instead of pure green. “They feel…different,” she says.

“They represent the nuance you understand now,” Malakai says. The blue-grey of his skin, the deep blackened purple of his eyes. Julia’s never understood the meaning before.

“That’s why Cutler had yellow and blue,” she murmurs. “Why we had green, and blue, and pink.”

Malakai nods. “And why Buddy here has had sages, forest greens, and sunset oranges,” he murmurs. “He understood the responsibility from day one.”

“Always the perfect one,” Julia mutters.

“No one is perfect,” Buddy says. “But, yeah, I am.”

Brody chucks a pillow at Buddy using his newly orange-pink and ocean-teal powers.

“Hey,” Julia says, showing Brody her own greyish teal, “we match now.”

He beams over at her. “We do.”

~

Mini Playlist: Moonlight Magic - Ashnikko Magic - One Direction Magic - The Cars God is a Woman - Ariana Grande

[jmrothwell]

Oh hell, while I'm here. Trope bingo prompt almost/interrupted confession, rulie

Julie couldn’t wait to get to the combined kitchens and dining hall. The hard labor of tending the fields felt extra exhausting today. It probably had something to do with her most recent brush with death. 

Sure she was mostly healed now, only some scarring and minor bruises left. But for the past month she hadn’t really been able to do much more than sleep. She couldn’t even comfortably walk on her own until a week ago.

“You ok?” Reggie asked, one of his hands came up to rest on her shoulder. A comforting weight and warmth she was accustomed to by now. 

“I’m fine.” Julie said but as usual even the small lie was very noticeable even to her own ears. Reggie leveled her with the usual look he reserved for when he thought she was pushing herself too far.

“Why don’t you go sit down,” Reggie suggested, before she could say anything else, his look softened into a small smile. “I'll get us both some food? Ok?”

Julie really wanted to argue, but even if she had the energy for it Reggie didn’t give her the option. He spun her around towards the makeshift tables and ran off.

‘I don’t like him,’ Carrie snarked suddenly in the back of Julie’s mind as she sat them back in the corner where Julie always chose to sit. 

‘What? Why? Not that long ago you were saying how good of a friend he is.’

‘Not like that, not like a friend. I meant like, how we like Nick.’

‘Why does that matter?’ Julie’s confusion at Carrie was drowned out by the subtle joy she felt seeing the return of Reggie’s bright smile as he happily chatted with Willie and Flynn who were tasked with running the kitchen today.

‘Because! Uuugh, I swear you are so dense sometimes.’

Julie tried to not roll her eyes at the statement. Half of what Carrie said never made any sense, at least initially. Almost like Carrie purposefully forgot Julie had exponentially less experience on earth and with humans than she did.

‘I don’t purposefully forget, you are just too naive for your own good. He is starting to act like he likes you, like Nick likes us-me. Likes me.‘

‘I highly doubt that,’ Julie grimaced at the frustration radiating off Carrie and building in the depths of their mind. 

“Everything ok in there?” Reggie asked, wearing a bemused smile as he sat down, sliding Julie the usual bread roll and soup. He’d been one of the first to believe Carrie was still alive, one of the few that could tell when she was talking to Julie. 

“Carrie’s frustrated.”

‘TELL HIM I DON’T LIKE HIM’

With an exasperated sigh Julie did as Carrie asked, only to be met by Reggie’s confused, furrowed brow. 

“Wha? Why?” Reggie sputtered as he shook his head, like he was trying to shake his thoughts in order. “Where’d that come from?”

“Carrie thinks you like us.” 

‘Not US, You.’

“She thinks you like me.” Julie corrected with another sigh and tore at her bread.

Reggie chuckled as he sat up straighter, “Well, of course I like you. You’re my friend.”

‘See?’ Julie threw the thought almost triumphantly toward Carrie.

‘No. He might be just as dense as you are or-’

‘How could someone not be aware of their own feelings?’ Julie interrupted Carrie, remembering how intense even just the memories of certain emotions could be. It didn’t seem feasible to not be aware of them.

‘A few months ago you didn’t know what jealousy was’

‘That’s different, I don’t know what a lot of feelings are. Surely he’d be able to tell something as intense as attraction’

‘You’d be surprised, everyone feels things differently. Plus, he might be fully aware and putting up a front.’

‘What does any of that mean?’

Carrie was interrupted again, this time by Reggie, though he didn’t know it. “She still frustrated?”

“She’s trying to convince me that you like me, like Nick likes her.” Julie mumbled, keeping her focus on her soup. “Which is ridiculous.”

“It is?”

“Of course it is.” Julie said with a shake of her head, “No one here could actually like me like that.”

Reggie went silent for a long moment, longer than he’d been around her in a long time. The silence was what made Julie finally look at him again. He was slouched over his food and avoided looking at her. 

Something inexplicably twisted uncomfortably in her stomach even though she didn’t think she was sick. 

The smug confidence Carrie had been radiating also shifted. There was more of that usual exasperation but it was laced with something, almost defensive. Or maybe it was aggressive?

Before Julie could even begin to sort through the emotional bombardment Reggie sat up straighter, face scrunched up in confusion and something else Julie couldn’t name, “wait, why?”

“What?” Julie was still distracted by the inner turmoil, not aided by Carrie’s sudden stubborn silence.

Reggie leaned forward, his food seemingly forgotten, “why do you think someone couldn’t like you like that?”

“Because,” Julie began, trying to find the correct words, “human attraction is so dependent on physical appearance. And this face, this body, it’s not mine. It's not me. It’s never been me and it’s never going to be me.

“But no one can separate us like that. Separate me from this appearance like that. So any attraction they might feel wouldn’t be for me. It’d be for this body.”

Reggie frowned and his hand slid the slightest bit closer to her before he pulled it back, “Hypothetically, what if someone could separate you like that?”

“Reggie,” Julie exhaled.

“Wait, just hear me out?” He waited for her to nod before he continued on. “Right, so as pretty as Carrie is. That’s not what makes you, you, right?”

Julie tried to push past the temperamental mix of emotions that washed over her and radiated off Carrie when he called her pretty, and focused on the words he was saying. Even if she wasn’t sure where he was going with them. “Right?” 

“Right,” his grin was growing broader again, “For some people, looks aren’t what attracts them to a person. It’s the personality, or the bonds they build with somebody that sparks attraction.”

Julie chewed it over, “Ok, so in your hypothetical, this person isn’t attracted to appearance. So it wouldn’t matter what I looked like, even if I looked like Willie or even Magnolia?”

“Exactly,” he bounced slightly in his seat, “it doesn’t matter what you look like. It matters what kind of person you are. And you’re pretty amazing.”

“I’m not all that great.” Julie mumbled a little sardonically, which shocked Carrie and made Reggie deflate a little. “Besides, it doesn’t matter, because Carrie and I are trapped like this and your hypothetical person doesn’t exist.”

“Jul-”

“Reggie!” Luke’s voice rang out, drawing his and Julie’s attention to the entrance of the room where he stood frantically pointing at his wrist, “Dude, what are you doing?”

“Damn it,” Reggie muttered under his breath, before he turned back around with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, looks like I gotta go. We’ll talk more about this later, k?”

“Ok.” Julie tried her best to return his smile with a small nod and watched him run off, shoving as much of his bread roll in his mouth as he did so.

Carrie groaned, ‘You two are going to be absolutely insufferable soon, aren’t you?’

[missingmayuri]

Let's see

Ah a tag from @mayuris-basement-dweller for Fanfiction Writer Bingo!

Then let's get to it!

One

I actually used Wattpad up until very recently when I began writing on here. I still have my account but some recent issues with the site had me questioning what to do. Still there for now but writing more here mostly 😊

Two

I'm writing my first piece like this for a friend for her birthday so this technically counts even though its my first piece

Three and Four

I have proof read for friends back in the day and most of everything I have posted hasn't been beta read by anybody. I wing it and ✨hope for the best ✨

Five

I literally don't know anyone who doesn't write self indulgent fics. I think it's a trope all we fanfic writers share!

Six

Who doesn't love a good fluff fic c,mon. Nothing better then characters being lovey. My favourite to write too ❤️

Seven

Haven't posted but have written some M/M fics before

Eight

Facts

Nine and Ten

I have written for a few fan bases before and because of that I like to do plenty of research to make sure I get characters accurate with the correct information. Doesn't hurt to be prepared right?

Eleven

The good ol' outline stops me going on tangents during writing . This happens a lot 😂

Twelve

Damn I'm such an anxious writer. Immediately regret anything I post and just sit here hoping people like it like

Thirteen

One?! Fool! I have an entire collected of unfinished and unpublished works!

Fourteen and Fifteen

Nothing hits quite like those 3am ideas you have when you should be sleeping. Let's be honest here and stop lying to ourselves about what times we got our ideas 😂

I think the coffee might be keeping me awake. It's a vicious cycle

Sixteen

I do think one thing I wrote does deserve a little more praise. Was super long and while it's my first and it's riddled with errors it took a huge amount of research and many months.

I don't mind though. Fun to watch my writing grow from there!

I don't think I have many people to tag and feel free to ignore this but just gonna tag @criminal-sen here. Just gonna set them down gently... There we go.

Blank template is below

Thanks again for the tag! ❤️

[nuclearforest]

12, 13, 16, 23 and 30 for the ask? (Only if you feel like answering them all. It's a lot but I am curious lol)

Rotten I am a slut for rambling on and on and if you (or anybody else who wants to chat) ask i will alWAYs answer. So thank you lmao.

12. Are there any tropes you used to dislike but have grown on you?

tbh this one was like, a long time coming but long ago I used to hate the idea of mary sue/gary stu. mostly because i was concerned about being too carefree and wanting to be far too serious/anti-cringe as i am a wee bean terrified of scorn (i didn't actually share ANY fic until One Dog Night). (and this is like, a years long thing. i used to hate it, spent a long time not caring, and now i encourage it lol).

anyway the fuckin minute i started working on getting over myself and just enjoying stuff because it's made? honestly helped. so go and make whatever OC you want overpowered because you can have a convincing story even with a perfect character. sometimes you just gotta have fun and the perfect character is the way to do it.

13. Are there any tropes you used to like but don’t anymore?

this one's hard. the things that i like i don't tend to let go of easily (surprise, surprise?). i promise i'm sitting here thinking and trying, but i will have to get back to you on this one if i can even think of it lmao. it's like the time you asked for my fav ships and i sat there agonizing like "UHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH SHIT" because i'm a filthy casual and appreciate a wide variety of things without selling my soul to them. (and yeah i am still scratching my head at that one, too).

16. What’s an AU you would love to read (or have read and loved)?

ok other than the "office predators working on their home planet in mundanity" AU that we briefly discussed today, i kinda love slapping really intense characters into like. slice of life settings (and sometimes the reverse can be pretty damn funny, too. i probably just like the whiplash tbh). so Hellsing, for example, would see the big three being rivals at the local remote town's firehall's bingo night or something. (anybody wanna take that idea and run?)

23. What’s a trope, AU, or concept you’ve never written, but would like to?

i know i write a lot for my beloved stinky wolfman but i keep stumbling on the idea of how Doc made Schrodinger (I wanna know what experiments he ran) and desperately want to use all my knowledge for the dumbest purposes just to write about Doc giving people acute radiation syndrome in the pursuit of creating a supersoldier. and then failing. many times. atomic science was running wild in the early 40s.

30. Have you ever written something that was out of your comfort zone? If so, what was it, and how did it affect your approach to writing fic thereafter?

so i don't know if i'm out here writing too much of the same shit or if my comfort zone is just hella broad, but i can't think of much that i've written outside (i mean, i doubt i'll ever touch something like noncon which sits outside my writing comfort zone). i mean, closest to answer your question was the two male reader inserts because i don't know if i could give a good fic experience with them! and i got some warm reception and don't feel like i did awful, so i am interested in continuing to try it out as time and inspiration allow.

[commander-diomika]

Pspsps come get your angst and inevitable betrayals. (Part One) (Part Two) Part 3 - Fandom: Rusty Quill Gaming Pairing: Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde Rating: Upped to Mature for graphic depiction of blood/injuries Word Count: ~2200 Additional Tags: Slow Burn, 18-Month Time Gap (Rusty Quill Gaming), Rating Will Change to Explicit in Later Parts, Opposites Attract, Blood and Injury, Angst

Summary: "The longer they stayed, the more it delayed real progress on the mission. Hope had borne them this long, but Zolf knew by the heaviness in his heart, it was time to consider saying goodbye. In more ways than one.

He didn’t want to have this conversation. He didn’t want to be the one to tell Wilde that it was time to stop gambling on the chance that they might see the party again. There was a tragedy in the shape of an executioner’s axe hanging over them both, and Zolf was about to give the nod to drop it."

It's all fun and games until someone loses their smile.

Six days after Bosie’s arrival.

Zolf was walking back to the safe house from the temple of Hephaestus. It had been locked up tight, and there was no response to his hammering on the door.

I think it might be time to move on from this city, he thought. The ringing of his unanswered knocks at the temple had rung with a kind of finality. Both he and Wilde had held on here longer than they should, making any excuse they could to stay put in their current safehouse. Hoping to hear from Hamid and Sasha. Zolf and Wilde clung to Damascus, praying that any day word would come through. If they just stayed in the last place the other party members had been seen, it might make them easier to find. Hoping, hoping, hoping.

But the longer they stayed, the more it delayed real progress on the mission. Hope had borne them this long, but Zolf knew by the heaviness in his heart, it was time to consider saying goodbye. In more ways than one.

He didn’t want to have this conversation. He didn’t want to be the one to tell Wilde that it was time to stop gambling on the chance that they might see the party again. There was a tragedy in the shape of an executioner’s axe hanging over them both, and Zolf was about to give the nod to drop it.

“Ho, Wilde!�� Zolf called, coming through the door. He sighed as he unslung his pack from his shoulders, thinking about how best to broach it.

When a few silent moments passed, Zolf surfaced from the depths of his thoughts, noticing that there was no response from within the townhouse. “Douglas?” he added uncertainly.

There was every chance the two of them were cozied up in Wilde’s room again. Zolf had seen a lot less of Wilde this week than usual, and he wasn’t looking forward to prying Wilde out of his torrid nest to have a hard conversation. Whilst it wasn’t any of Zolf’s business who Wilde took to bed, it was Zolf’s business that Wilde was... distracted. And if Wilde was planning on keeping Bosie around...

Depressed about the notion of so many hard conversations threatening, Zolf clanged his glaive into the weapons rack in the entry hall and threw down his bag, heading to the sitting room.

Shock has a way of warping perception, of making a mind skitter when it should seize. For instance, as he reached the door, the first thing that Zolf noticed was that the settee was the wrong colour, instead of Wilde’s bloodied body atop it.

Zolf swore, feeling like his legs wouldn’t respond, like everything moved slowly as the view properly hit him.

It felt like an age before he could move. Wilde’s upper half was drenched in blood, the couch dark and dripping with it.

“Wilde?” Zolf asked, almost inanely, as if expecting a response. Wilde had fallen back as if pushed, limbs splayed. The blood was leaking from multiple messy slices across his torso, darkening the soft turquoise shirt to a purple-black. That was shocking enough, but the real horror was Wilde’s cheek, sliced from temple to lips in a vicious, loose flap. Already Zolf was pulsating with healing light as he ran over, years of combat experience overriding the dumb shock. He nearly slipped in the growing pool of blood.

The wave of power emanating from Zolf slid like oil around Wilde’s body, none of it sinking it.

The cuffs! Zolf could have screamed. He yanked up the hems of Wilde’s pants. He snapped the cuffs off with strangely steady hands and blasted the man with magic.

“Don’t move!” Zolf cried. Can he move? Will he move? Zolf’s hands were slick within moments of touching Wilde’s face, the blood still oozing from the wound. Zolf’s stomach lurched, but he remained focused. He drew the two loose parts of Wilde’s cheek together before slamming more magic through it, his mind a horrified buzz. The point of a safehouse was that it was safe!

Wilde was trying to speak.

“Don’t! Just let me- don’t talk, Wilde, just wait.” There was so much blood- this kind of precision surgical work was better done by, well, surgeons, not hackneyed ex clerics who weren’t even sure why their magic still worked.

Zolf felt the loose pieces of skin begin to knit themselves back together beneath his hands, and no more blood flowed from the chest wounds. Zolf had a brief and horrifying flashback to Sasha, in pieces, her organs floating like a halo around her lifeless body. He didn’t want to keep getting his friends' blood on his hands, even if it was in the service of saving them.

Wilde weakly tried to push Zolf’s hands away and went to speak again through the ruin of his face.

“Don’t worry about me,” he managed this time. “Go after Bosie!”

“Stop! Talking!” Zolf replied, besides himself with anger, incredibly relieved that Wilde was conscious. “Wait- Bosie did this?”

Wilde was awake enough to hold a hand over his cheek and sit up. His face was painted stark red from the bridge of the nose down. His head had slumped to one side, wound facing up, blood flowing down; the effect was like he was wearing a shiny maroon bandana over nose and mouth. But his eyes were remarkably clear and angry.

“Yes. I don’t know- he turned, it wasn’t him anymore, or something took over him. He tried to take me with him and I- I fought back and-” Wilde went to stand, hand still clasped over his face. “I think he heard you- shit, Zolf.” Wilde’s eyes flicked around frantically, looking for the man who attacked him.

“Easy, easy.” Zolf stopped Wilde from rising and as he did, Wilde’s fire seemed to go out. Zolf kept talking. “It’s alright. It’s not important right now.” Zolf’s gut swooped with guilt as he looked at the wound. He’d gotten here just in time, but Wilde wasn’t walking away from this without scarring. “Just let me take care of it, ok?”

Zolf reached and cupped Wilde’s bloody cheek in one hand. Wilde half-closed his eyes and leant into the touch, breathing shakily. Zolf had been about to push more healing magic through the cheek, but he froze at the sensation of Wilde’s lips and breath against his blood-slick hand. Alive. Zolf had gotten here in time and his droll, irritating, shallow co-conspirator was alive.

Suddenly Wilde’s eyes flew open. “No!” he shouted and leapt to his feet, knocking Zolf’s hand aside. He looked completely deranged. “Get away!” Zolf backed up a few steps, hands outstretched as if he were taming a wild animal.

“I- Argh! He was infected!” Wilde clenched the tattered shirt to his chest, as though trying to hold his whole self together. “We spent this whole week together, in bed, fucking, kissing! You need to stay away!”

The wind went completely out of Zolf’s sails, his breath leaving him in an instant. Wilde was only semi-conscious and still reeling. Zolf would be impressed at Wilde’s acumen whilst distressed, if the point he had made wasn’t completely terrifying. Zolf took a few steps backward without realising.

“Wait, Wilde, just wait.” Zolf was still catching up. “You said, he tried to take you away. If you were already infected all he had to do was wait, righ’? A week, Curie said, all of her double agents lasted less than a week before they turned on people.”

“We can’t know that! Maybe he was just getting a head start! Fuck!” Wilde’s cheek started to bleed again with the strength of his swear.

Zolf had backed all the way to the other side of the room, only noticing when his arse gently bumped the wall. “The cuffs, Wilde.” He was grasping, but he desperately needed to find the right words to say to take that hellish look off Wilde’s face. “If it’s at all magical in nature, maybe the cuffs protected you.”

Wilde’s head snapped around frantically. In the carnage, he hadn’t realised they’d been taken off. He spotted them, discarded by the low table and moved to them.

“Wait, at least let me-” Unwilling to come closer, Zolf simply radiated as much healing as he could muster. Wilde, eyes unfathomably dark, nodded his thanks as he snapped the cuffs back on. He’d been on the brink for a moment there, terror threatening to snap him, but Zolf’s words, and the Stockholm-syndrome familiarity of the weight around his ankles had brought him back from whatever edge he’d been teetering on.

Wilde’s mouth twisted. He’d taken as much healing as Zolf could jam into him, but the scar was there to stay. “Here’s what’s going to happen. Zolf, you’re going to go up to my room and bar the window. I don’t care how you do it, move a wardrobe over it, stone shape it, whatever, but make it tight. Then I am going to go into that room, shut the door-” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “-and wait for seven days.”

Zolf gulped. “Righ-…. Right. That’s a good idea. I can bring you food and-”

“No. No food.” Wilde snapped. “No opening the door. Not if I beg, not if I scream. Not for anything.”

Zolf’s mouth was agape, trying desperately to catch up to Wilde, to meet him wherever he had gone. “No food? Don’t be daft, you’ll die.”

Wilde’s head snapped to the side, then to the other. It was unclear if he was shaking his head or simply processing with his whole skull. “No, I won’t. I’ll need water but I can live without food, or whatever we’ve got in the house. What are you waiting for? Do it now!” His demeanor had snapped from terror to fury. “Every second we waste dithering about it makes it more likely that this could take you too!”

Zolf obeyed. His hands had started to shake as the crest of the crisis passed, and he stilled them by taking action. He washed the blood off himself and dutifully collected all the vases from about the place to fill with water, grabbing any food in the kitchen that wasn’t raw ingredients. It amounted to some bread and dried fruit, but Zolf was still obscenely grateful there was any ready-to-eat food in there at all. The horror inherent to spending seven days alone in a single room was starting to spread like a dark inkblot in his mind. He kept moving, as if he could outrun a stain.

It was trivial to stone shape the window closed; the townhouse wasn’t particularly big or lavish. When he stepped out of the room, Zolf was met with the ghoulish sight that was Wilde waiting for him down the corridor. He had put a jacket over his slashed shirt but hadn’t even tried to clean the blood off his face.

Zolf paused in the door, looking Wilde over. “Curie said something about- about blue veins?” he said softly. He didn’t want to ask. The last thing he wanted to say was I told you so.

“What? Everyone’s veins are blue.” Wilde’s voice was flat, emotionless. Shock was setting in properly, Zolf diagnosed.

“I dunno. It weren’t clear, but… did you notice anything? On Bosie.” It felt horrible pushing Wilde right now, but knowledge was power. Wilde in his right mind would understand.

Wilde’s eyes shifted in either shock or deception. “No. I didn’t. But we spent a lot of time with the lights off.” Wilde gave his head a little shake, as if to dislodge a memory... or stop one from surfacing.

More than the blood, it was the blankness on Wilde’s face that was most unsettling. Zolf couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Wilde without a smirk or an arched brow or, more frequently these days, a soft little smile, usually when he thought Zolf wasn’t paying attention.

“What’s done is done. Worry about the “how” if I come out the other side of this.” Wilde took a step forward, waiting for Zolf to back off. “Go to the end of the corridor. Once I’m inside, I’ll shut the door. Bar it from the outside.” Metres between them, they performed a grotesque mockery of a tango step, Zolf stepping back, Wilde stepping forward. When Wilde reached the door, he stared into his room.

“And Zolf?” Wilde didn't look over at him, considering the darkness inside as though it held a secret. Perhaps pondering the poetic implications that his love den of the last week was to be his prison for the next.

“Yeh?” Zolf knew this had to happen. Knew it was a good idea. But gods, he wouldn’t wish this on his worst enemy. Wilde had just been betrayed in the most vile way, and now he had to sit in the dark with that for a week. Zolf hadn’t wanted Douglas around, but he certainly hadn’t wanted this.

“At the end of these seven days... if it’s not me in there-” Wilde finally tore his eyes away from the room and turned his gaze to Zolf’s. “-if I’m, monstrous or sick, if I try to hurt you...” He didn’t finish the thought.

“I won’t let you.” Zolf whispered through dry lips. Wilde didn’t have spell it out; they understood each other well enough by now.

Wilde nodded once, satisfied, and stepped into the dark.

[weeinterpreter]

Ok that trope bingo thing got me all excited I can’t wait to read all the amazing work 😔🔥

How about this, Everyone is a suspect trope and it’s just the cast playing Monopoly and someone stole money and they’re trying to figure out who :)

@me-fangirlingxxx

So sorry for the long wait! It took me so long, but here we are. I hope you enjoy this! It turned into a smaller episode, but will be part of a bigger story, so please bear with me.

What's a Trope Bingo?

What's the Evil Association of Evil Villains?

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5][Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8]

Part 1. Monopoly.

Jon laughed, "Well, Arty, looks like I win and you lose."

Artemis groaned as he moved his pawn to Park Place.

"That'll be 1500 dollars, please," the millionaire said, his golden bracelets clinking against each other. Artemis shot him a dark look and counted his money.

"Don't look so sad, Arty," Jon said lightly. "It's just a game."

"I'm not sad," Artemis snapped, shifting in the comfortable leather armchair. It had been Jon's idea to play Monopoly. Ever since the President of the Evil Association of Evil Villains had approved the blueprints for the Secret Evil Lair, Jon had been adamant that the place had to have an arcade and a bowling alley. The proposals hadn't been approved yet, so Jon had spent all his free time in adding a game room, trying to get his fellow villains to play with him.

"I just find it funny that I seem to land on Park Place every single round. Are you sure the dice aren't loaded?"

Jon placed a hand on his heart. "Artemis, I am a criminal, but I have standards. I would never trick a fellow member. That's beneath me. You just have terrible luck today."

Artemis made a non-committal sound and handed over the paper notes. "I still find it odd. Regardless, I have been thinking about our heists. Why have they all failed? I finally know why."

Arno and Butler paled, while Jon thought hard.

"Beats me."

"It's obvious, Jon. Think about it. What did all our missions have in common?"

Arno shot Butler a panicked look, his hands trembling as he sat up.

"They were too obvious," Artemis said.

Butler frowned. "Too obvious?"

"Yes, beams melting the ozone layer? Come on. It's what movie villains would do. Instead, we have to think subtler. Less obvious."

Jon nodded. "What do you suggest instead?"

Artemis gave him his signature vampire smile. "Glad you are asking. I was thinking-" he handed Butler the dice, who let them promptly drop to the floor.

Arno Blunt sneered. "Scared you'll end up on my street, Butler?"

Artemis cleared his throat with a lift of his eyebrow. He didn't appreciate the interruption, and was about to start anew when Butler rolled his dice. They both landed on a 'six'. Arno's eyes widened.

"Impossible," he exclaimed and grabbed the dice, eyeing them from all sides. "You are cheating."

Butler shrugged. "We are all using the same dice. How would I be cheating?"

"Gentlemen, if I may," Artemis began. Before he could lie out his genius plan, though, the lights went out.

"What the-?"

"Not to worry," said Artemis. "The emergency generator should kick in any moment now."

As if on cue, an eerie green light came to life, illuminating the sitting room. Jon blinked, squinting his eyes when he noticed something on the table.

"Hey, why is all the money gone?"

Everybody looked, and indeed, there was not a single note lying on the table. Jon furrowed his brows.

"Come on, Arty. I know this is not your strongest game, but theft?"

"My money is gone, too," Artemis said. "As you can see. Besides, what would I do with play money?"

Both criminals looked at their bodyguards. Butler lifted his empty hands.

"Arno?"

The giant threw the dice on the table.

"What? Like, I'm that petty? It's a stupid game to begin with. Like, what is this, kindergarten?"

Artemis placed a finger on his chin. "How intriguing."

"What is?" Jon asked, confused.

"Clearly, one of us is lying. The question is, why?"

Arno snorted. "Maybe it was you, kiddo. Since you are so intrigued by the whole thing."

Artemis didn't answer. He let his gaze wander across the room. It got caught on a white card that had imbedded itself into the wall. Walking over to it, the boy pulled it out and examined it for a moment. The thick, expensive paper was empty except for two symbols. Artemis frowned, studying the first, unable to remember where he had seen it before. It looked like a secret message, as if someone had written one letter above another. He wondered if he could scan it and decipher the message on his computer at Fowl Manor.

The second symbol, however, was much easier to interpret. It was a winking smiley.

Jon tapped his foot in an erratic rhythm. "What is it?"

Artemis looked up. "We've been robbed."

To be continued.

[spencers-renaissance]

Fic Rec Bingo!!

So instead of Fic Rec Thursday, I thought I'd do something a little different this week and recommend 25 fics based on this bingo card (although it turned into 26, oops). I kept most of these as CM because that's my blog's focus, but due to the nature of the prompts, there are 5 Marvel (Irondad) ones & 1 Sherlock towards the end!

from @lightveils on twitter, but found posted on tumblr by @cywscross <3

1. A fic with a premise that shouldn't work but does

I never would've thought I'd enjoy a fic with Spencer as a little rebellious shit because it seems so ooc, but I loved this one!

las vegas kid by trashcanbarbie - 1.9k, 1ch, Gen/Aaron Hotchner & Spencer Reid, Gambling, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, Young Spencer Reid, Teenage Rebellion, Protective Aaron hotchner, Pre-Canon, Father-Son Relationship, Teenage Spencer Reid

JJ raises her eyebrows, “so, you're trying to say counting cards isn't cheating?” “No,” he grins, boyish and charming, “it is.”

2. A fic you've reread several times

Discipline Changes by fullofcrazyness - 1.2k, 1ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Past Child Abuse, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, Comforting Hotch

Jack stopped and looked at his dad, finally seeing that his dad wasn’t actually angry. Concerned and relieved, but not angry. He was about to say something when he saw someone in the doorway, white as a sheet. “Papa?”

3. A comfort fic

i'm always tired, but never of you by @iamrenstark - 2.2k, 1ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Hurt Spencer Reid, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sad Derek, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, Derek Morgan Needs a Hug, Men Crying, Gunshot Wounds, Blood and Injury

When Spencer figured it out, he was stepping out of the elevator on the bottom floor of Quantico, and he went to tell Derek he loved him like he did every day, but he froze up, because he was afraid he wouldn't hear it back. (Or, Spencer thinks his boyfriend is falling out of love with him.)

4. A cathartic fic

Every Little Transgression by @58thacademic - 1.6k, 1ch, Gen, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sad Spencer Reid, Protective David Ross, Protective Derek Morgan, Mentioned Suicide Attempt, Spencer's Backstory, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-Con, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, Episode: s03e16 Elephant's Memory

Ok so. Elephants memory was really good because we got Reid backstory. But I'm still annoyed that he didn't defend himself against Hotch. So this was born.

5. A fic you'd print and put on your bookshelf

One Call Away by GhostInTheBAU - 204k, 32ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Dubious Consent, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Domestic Violence, Rape Recovery, Referenced Past Drug Use, PTSD, Hurt Spencer Reid, Protective Aaron Hotchner, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Flashbacks, Healing, Nightmares, Suicidal Thoughts, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Eventual Smut

When Reid's boyfriend attacks him, leaving him broken and bleeding, he calls the first person he thinks of for help. He calls the only person he really wants to see. He calls Hotch.

6. A fic you associate with a song

I associate this fic with The First Thing You See by Bruno Major. I think if you listen to the song, you'll easily see why <3

You Make Waking Up Worth It by @guccifloralsuits - 2.1k, 1ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Fluff, Minor Angst, Established Relationship, Morning Routines, Hurt/Comfort, Good Things Happen Bingo

“Morning sweetheart,” Derek says, pausing briefly to ruffle his hand gently through Spencer’s hair. The genius nuzzles into the touch but doesn’t reply. It’s too early for conversation, Morgan knows. Pretty boy may get up earlier than he does, but it takes the younger a lot longer to really wake up.

7. A fic that inspires you

This fic could have been in so many categories because I adore it, but I wouldn't have started writing Rain is a Chance to be Touched without this fic so it definitely belongs here.

Forgive Me For All I Could Not Become by @degrassi-fanatic - 105k, 20ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Canon Divergence, Getting Together, Angst, Case Fic, Confessions, Complicated Relationships, Near Death Experiences, Friends With Benefits, Smut, Miscommunication

In which Reid has always been good at hiding things. He hid his father's departure and his mother's illness from social services. He hid his addiction from his team. He hid his sexuality from the world. He hid his inappropriate feelings from his boss. That is until he's bleeding out in Hotch's arms, in an abandoned church, in Oklahoma. From there on out, Hotch and Reid learn to make a complete mess out of each other.

8. A fic that brought you on board a new ship

Even though it's unrequited, this was the first fic that really had me going !!! at Penemily <3

Another Wide-Eyed Girl by mallfacee - 2k, 1ch, Gen/Derek Morgan & Penelope Garcia, Penelope Garcia/Emily Prentiss (Unrequited), Coming Out, Internalised Homophobia, Derek Morgan is a Good Friend, Friendship, Gunshot Wounds, Episode: s03e08 Lucky

Derek Morgan is handsome and calls her “baby girl” and smiles at her like she’s the only girl in the room. Penelope Garcia knows she should be swooning and all she can think is that there must be something wrong with her not to react to a man like that giving her all this attention. Two years later she meets Emily Prentiss and understands.

9. A fic you wish could be a movie

Listen, I adore the soulmate trope, and an angsty moreid soulmate movie? Fucking sign me up right now

i need you now but i don't know you yet by @iamrenstark - 3.1k, 1ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Hurt Spencer Reid, Hurt Derek Morgan, Mutual Pining, Soulmates, Hurt/Comfort, Buford Mention, Angst with a Happy Ending, Getting Together, Season 5

It goes like this; Spencer hasn't spoken to his soulmate since he was ten, didn't know their gender or their name or a single thing about them. Spencer's soulmate doesn't want him, and that's okay.

10. A fic that led to you making friends with the author

I'm doing two because fuck you that's why

This was one of the first fics I read of Adam's and I immediately fell in love with his writing! And I'm pretty sure that we ended up becoming friends after I rec'd it!!

Plum Sauce by @goldencatchflies - 1.5k, 1ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Canon Divergence, Fluff, Jealousy, Platonic Morcia, Episode: s07e13 Snake Eyes

Garcia tells Spencer about what she thinks happened between her and Derek. He doesn’t seem too happy about it...

I read this from Syd and absolutely loved it, and like with Adam, we became friends from there! (I mean technically husband and wife, but, y'know. Semantics.)

You Belong With Me by @spencerspecifics - 11.4k, 1ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Song Fic, Getting Together, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pining, Fluff

A fluffy Moreid fic based on You Belong With Me by: Taylor Swift

11. A fic you associate with a place

This reminds me of a chilled Sunday afternoon on my old sofa in my living room, with the fire on in the background. I read it all in one sitting and loved every word <3

Metanoia by @makaylajadewrites - 39k, 16ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Canon Typical Violence, Implied Rape/Non-Con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Established Relationship, Near Death Experiences, Frostbite, Rape Recovery, Suicidal Thoughts, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Autistic Spencer Reid, Drug Use, Eventual Smut, Eventual Happy Ending

Oh, Derek… He couldn’t stand the thought of him bursting in with SWAT in tow, gun at the ready, only to descend those creaky stairs and find his naked, bleeding body, vacated of life, crumbled on a red-stained mattress. The realization that he was going to die at the end of this was catching up to him, but maybe it would be better that way.

In which an unfortunate resemblance to an unsub's victims puts Reid right on his radar.

12. A fic that made you gasp out loud

Gasp out loud might be a *bit* of an overreaction, but this one took me on a rollercoaster and I loved every second of it (all of bau-gremlin's fics will do that to you tbh)

The End by @bau-gremlin - 3.1k, 2ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Graphic Violence, Stabbing, Blood and Injury, Temporary Character Death, Hurt Spencer Reid, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt Aaron Hotchner, Sleepy Cuddles, Protective Spencer Reid

The famous interview with Chester Hardwick ... except Hotch and Reid get separated and Reid is left alone with Hardwick and a prison-made shiv.

13. A fic you found at the right time

You're Going to be Okay by fullofcrazyness - 2.6k, 1ch, Gen/Aaron Hotchner & Spencer Reid, Dark, Suicidal Thoughts, Depression, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, Sad Spencer Reid, Hurt Spencer Reid, Depression, Protective Aaron Hotchner, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending

Spencer was no stranger to depression. His father leaving him, his mother’s episodes, being twelve years old in a Las Vegas high school. All of those things made him very familiar with the illness. “I… I think I need some help.”

14. A fic that you would read a fic of

Chain Reaction by EloquentDossier - 42k, 16ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Alternate Universe, Texting, Dialogue-Only, Text Fic, Self-Esteem Issues, Fluff, Angst, Implied/Referenced Past Drug Use, Canon Divergence, Pining, Oblivious Aaron Hotchner, Happy Ending

A dialogue-only AU in which Hotch texts what he thinks is Rossi's new number but is actually the slightly eccentric stranger whom Hotch knows only as "Spencer." What follows is something neither man could have ever quite expected.

15. A fic that made you laugh out loud

The Bet by @degrassi-fanatic - 1.6k, 2ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Bets & Wagers, Humour, Fluff, Canon Divergence

“Fifty bucks says Hotch writes you up and sends you to sexual harassment sensitivity training.” she declares as she stares him down. Without looking away from her, Reid takes out his own wallet and flips it open to pull out a fifty dollar before placing it down right next to Prentiss’s own money. “Fifty bucks says Hotch will go out with me.”

16. A fic that gave you butterflies

The healing and dynamics in this one is just.... off the charts :')

Who Spencer Reid Loves by @blueberriesandbubbles - 36k, 11ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Rape/Non-Con Elements, Abusive Relationships, Domestic Violence, Abuse, Hurt Spencer Reid, Mutual Pining, Rape Recovery, Healing, Fluff

Derek Morgan has been in love with the resident genius as long as he's known him. When Spencer enters a relationship with a mystery man, Derek is unhappy. He is even more unhappy when he meets this man. Spencer starts acting different and Derek knows something is wrong and he has a feeling its connected to the man Reid is dating.

17. A fic that embodies something you value in life

The utter and total love and devotion in this fic just punches me right in the gut every time I reread it

A Little Fall of Rain by jack_hunter - 4.3k, 2ch, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Spencer Reid Whump, Autistic Spencer Reid, Major Character Injury, Secret Relationship, Team as Family, Dad Rossi

Morgan crept up behind the doctor and snatched the headphones off of his head, earning a yelp of a protest as he slipped them over his own ears. “Les Mis?” Morgan asked with a quizzical look, “didn’t peg you as the musical type, Pretty Boy.” Spencer snatched the headphones back. “I’ve always loved the theatre and I went to see Les Misérables with-... a friend last Friday.”

18. A favourite AU

The Curious Case of Dr. Reid by severaance - 37k, 10ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Transgender Character, Fluff, Trans Spencer Reid, Light Angst, Getting Together, Developing Relationship, Smut, Insecurity, Happy Ending (Warning for Homophobic & Transphobic Slurs)

"And your names for the order, please?" The barista asked, eyes flickering expectantly between the two before her. "Spencer," she answered, although she was not talking to the barista. "I'm Spencer." The man before her had the same idea. "Derek."

19. A fic you stayed up too late to finish reading

I stayed up one night and read pretty much all the marvel fics this author has written, but this was the last one that I simply could not resist. The next day wasn't pretty :/

The more you say, the less I know by forthenightisdarkandfullofterror - 13.9k, 3ch, Gen/Irondad, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Temporary Amnesia, Protective Pepper Potts, Not Endgame Compliant, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Blood and Violence, Hurt Peter Parker, Whump

Tony wakes up from snapping with amnesia and for the life of him can't remember the kid hanging around, claiming to be 'just an intern'. Feelings get hurt.

20. A fic that made you feel seen

heavy in my bones by hopeless_hope - 4.4k, 1ch, Gen/Irondad, Chronic Pain, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Peter Parker, Whump, Father-Son Relationship, Dad Tony, Worried Tony Stark, Angst, Chronic Illness, 5+1 Things

Five times Peter lied to someone about his chronic pain, and one time he told the truth and got the help he needed.

21. A fic you love without knowing the source material

(I mean this is literally all marvel fics but I'll rec this one because I loved it so much)

the locker room by searchingforstars - 15.5k, 3ch, Gen/Irondad, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Hurt Peter Parker, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Mental Health Issues, Misunderstandings, Arguing, Miscommunication, Crying, Whump, Angst with a Happy Ending, Rape Recovery

Peter's falling apart and he doesn't know how things will ever go back to normal again after Ryder.

22. A fic you've gushed about IRL

Genuinely, this fic is better than most published fiction I've read...

The Third Option by Uncertainty_Principle - 220k, 37ch, Gen/Irondad, Hurt/Comfort, Sexual Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Physical Abuse, Alternate Universe, Hurt Peter Parker, Foster Care, Identity Reveal, Slow Build, Disordered Eating, Homelessness

Ben and May divorced before Peter’s parents died, so when Ben is murdered Peter goes into foster care. It takes just a tiny taste of superpowers for Peter to decide he doesn’t want to put up with his horrible foster father anymore—the streets are infinitely more appealing. All he wants is to be Spider-Man anyway.

So he leaves. Simple.

Simple, that is, until Iron Man needs Spider-Man’s help. Peter isn’t about to turn down an opportunity to fight alongside Tony Freaking Stark, but he also isn’t going to let his hero know that his recruit is a fifteen-year-old homeless dropout. So they strike a deal. Peter will help Tony. In return, the mask stays on. And that’s when things get complicated.

23. A fic you still remember many years later

The Transport Series by ancientreader - 135k, 2 works, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Backstory, Canon Drug Use, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Physical Disability, AU, Important Character Death, First Time, Developing Relationship, Angst with a Happy Ending, BDSM, Humour, Fluff

How to become a consulting detective. // Jim's lessons are hard to unlearn.

24. A fic with a line or two that you've memorised by heart

"He has held up buildings and nuclear bombs and whole entire countries on his back. Peter’s body is the heaviest thing he’s ever held."

when my body won't hold me anymore (where will I go) by @madasthesea - 4.4k, 2ch, Gen/Irondad, Temporary Character Death, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Father-Son Relationship, Hurt Peter Parker, Crying, Forehead Kisses, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Medical Inaccuracies, Hugs, Platonic Cuddling

But he knows. He knows. He can feel it. Peter’s dead. Peter Parker watches as Tony carefully arranges his limbs on a cot. “Mr. Stark,” he tries for the dozenth time. No one hears him.

25. Free Space

And to round it off, we have to celebrate the fic that really and truly welcomed me into the CM fanfic world...

Chanel by @4x24 - 24k, 7ch, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Getting Together, Spencer Wears Makeup, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon Typical VIolence, Humour, Fluffy Ending, Pining, Smut Heavy

Penelope mentions offhandedly one night that she thinks Spencer might look good in makeup. Spencer takes the suggestion to heart. Derek likes the new look - and Spencer - more than he probably should. (Season 4)

[stormcrawler75]

oh my gosh!! you've got such an amazing bingo board!!! ok, i'm gonna toss you four squares all with one character - if you'd like, you can count this one ask across multiple fics, or try to double up tropes in one fic, or disregard some of the prompts altogether, whatever works best for you! but i would 100% love to see how you write virgil with 1, healing pod malfunction, 2, came back wrong, 3, truth potion/serum, or 4, i know you're in there somewhere fight?

Warnings: Major Character Death, Necromancy, death.

Characters: Roman Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Remus Sanders, Janus Sanders with Mentions of Patton and Logan.

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

“I can’t believe you! How could you do this, Remus!? How?!”

Remus rolled his eyes, accepting a tray from his personal servant. He ignored how his servant kept his eyes on the ground with a pale shaky look to him. “Hey, is it really my fault that Necromancy is super easy to figure out? Janus and I figured it out in less than a month.” He turned and grinned at his older brother, looking uncomfortable and out of place in Remus’ bed chambers. “Get that grumpy look off your face! Look, we fixed everything!”

“Fix-” Roman stormed forward, waving his arms wildly, “Necromancy is banned, Remus! If you weren’t a Prince then you and Janus would be thrown into the dungeon and V-” Roman cut himself off with a pained grimace. “...The person you brought back would be granted a mercy kill. The Nobles Families are already pushing for that to happen and I... I...”

Remus gripped the tray with his and his consorts’ dinner on it tightly, his knuckles turning white. “Finish that fucking sentence,” he hissed, glaring at Roman. “Finish it. I fucking dare you.”

There was a long tense silence where nothing happened except the two brothers staring at each other, one glaring defensively and the other with a pleading look in his eyes. The silence was broken with a low groan from the other occupant of the room. Remus fixed a smile to his face and brushed past Roman, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Hey, Sleepyhead. Glad to see you awake!”

Virgil’s eyes slowly opened, his unnatural purple eyes having a tired glaze to them. While his body had been restored exactly to how it had been before his death - no decay and the gaping hole in his stomach gone like it had never been there in the first place - there were dark circles under his eyes like he hadn’t slept in months. Which he had, of course. He had barely done anything but sleep. “Remus,” he whispered. His voice was so soft and quiet that Remus could barely pick up on it. “Where’s Lo? And Pat? They were just here.”

Remus heard Roman’s breath hitch at the mention of Virgil’s long dead older brothers but didn���t react besides gently smoothing down Virgil’s bangs. “That was just a dream, Stormcloud. Hey, why don’t we have dinner? I got your favourite. Remember the chef’s special pie? I got a whole slice just for you.”

“It tastes like ash,” Virgil whispered. He stared at Remus with eyes that looked devoid of life. “Everything tastes like ash.”

“It’s just a little side effect, Stormy. Janus said that’d your tastebuds would come back soon, I promise,” Remus vowed, taking Virgil’s shaking hand and pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. He grinned over his shoulder at Roman, ignoring that pale sheen to his brother’s face. “See?! He’s back and as good as new!”

Virgil’s slowly turned to look at Roman, a thin and pained smile spreading across his face. “My King? You did survive. I, I told Logan and Patton I saved you and I did.” he reached out to Roman, the King immediately taking it in his own.

Roman knelt by Virgil’s bed, pressing Virgil’s hand to his cheek. “You did save me,” he whispered, tears pooling in his eyes. “You did and I’m so proud of you. You were the best of my King’s guard. I wrote of your accomplishes and,” his voice trembled and Roman took a shaky breath, “and my people sing songs of your bravery. Virgil the Brave, they call you.”

“The Brave,” Virgil whispered back. His smile widened but it looked wrong, like butter spread over too thinly over bread. “I like that. Patton told me, he told me when he died to be brave.” He blinked in confusion when Roman’s tears started trailing down his cheeks. “My K-King? What’s wrong? Did I, did I upset you?”

Roman laughed wetly and shook his head. “No, no my friend. You didn’t upset me. I’m just worried about you, that’s all. You look so tired.” He cupped Virgil’s cheek, looking over him and asked softly, “How are you feeling? Are you okay?”

“I’m tired,” Virgil whispered. He rubbed at his eyes and whispered out, “I’m just so tired.”

“Then perhaps we should leave you to rest, my Dearest.”

Remus and Roman turned to the doorway where Janus, the Court’s Wizard, stood. The scales spreading across his face glittered in the light of the setting light, giving him an otherworldly look. “It’s been a long day for you,” Janus hummed, walking forward and tucking the blankets up to Virgil’s chin. “You had a walk in the gardens in the morning and then you and I read some books. It’s been a productive day.”

Virgil blinked at him slowly and took his hand. “Okay,” he whispered softly. He looked up at Janus and asked softly, “Do you think I’ll see Patton and Logan again in my dreams?”

“I’m sure you will,” Janus hummed, gently kissing Virgil’s cheek. He took Remus’ hand and pulled him up. “You have a good rest, Dearest. We’ll be joining you in just a few minutes after we say goodbye to the King.” He turned and looked at Roman, arching an eyebrow at the tears dripping of Roman’s chin. “My King? Shall we?”

Roman’s jaw trembled and he croaked out, “This isn’t right. This isn’t right, Remus. Janus, you are the Court’s Wizard and you know that this isn’t right. Look at him,” he cried, waving a hand at a confused Virgil. “Is this what you wanted?! He was at rest, who are you to-” He cut himself off as a cold wind blew through the air, blowing off the candles and oil lamp.

Janus stood up straight, glaring at his King with bright golden eyes. “I am his Husband, that’s who I am,” he hissed, his voice echoing with power. “It wasn’t his time, I know this. If it wasn’t for you, then we’d never have to do this in the first place. If you hadn’t needed Virgil to jump in front of you and get-” he cut himself off and looked away, his face softening slightly as he stared at Virgil. “Leave,” he said softly, the power disappearing from his voice. “My Dearests and I will be having a private dinner tonight.”

There was a long, tense silence that was only broken by Virgil whispering, “Why can’t King Roman stay? Patton and Logan are going to be staying.”

“No, Dearest,” Janus said, smiling at him gently with a sad look in his eyes. “No, they won’t be. And the King has things to do. Perhaps tomorrow.” He glanced back at Roman, narrowing his eyes at the still crying King. “King Roman... you’re busy, aren’t you?”

“...Yes,” Roman whispered. He smiled at Virgil sadly, not bothering to wipe away the tears. “I’ll visit with you tomorrow, my friend.” He left with tears still rolling down his face. He closed the door behind him, just as he let out a sob.

How could Remus have done this?

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[cinnamonrollstark]

Irondad Bingo: Trope: Sick Fic

@irondadbingo

□□□

Your toothbrush is the red one. Damn thing has your name on it- you've got no excuse to forget. The bathroom is twenty-two steps from the bedroom, and a sharp left turn away. It shouldn't be that hard.

But somehow, it is. If it weren't, Tony wouldn't get cavities in the back of his mouth, or piss his pants in search of the toilet. This is meant to be a natural occurence, and it likely would've afflicted his father were he to have lived long enough, and yet, it feels like an intrusion on his life, a bomb dropped for absolutely no reason other than to throw him off course.

If it were as easy as simply reminding himself of these things day to day, then Pepper wouldn't have to find him in the hall, confused and frustrated, and scared because he doesn't know which way to turn next. She wouldn't have to brush his hair or remind him to wash it when it gets oily. But she does. And that is how it goes.

Dementia robs him of most luxuries. It was always Tony's longtime goal to find happiness one day, and as soon as he'd found it, the rug had been ripped from underfoot, and he'd landed in an abyss, with no direction, no map, and no way to get out again.

And yet, some days, the confusion clears. He is lucid, happy. These days are getting rarer as of late, few and far between, but when they occur, he never takes them for granted. He steals lucid moments of sunlight, wind combing through his slowly graying hair. He hugs his daughter, who grows with such rapid force that he's entirely sure he's missed years of her life in between the clarity. He stands at the bank of the lake, toes dipped in the water, letting sand tickle the soles of his feet. He takes these moments in as deeply as he can, as often as he can.

Today is no different. It's been three months since he was last completely lucid, and lately his ability to walk and talk as he once normally did is fading. It's somewhat early in the summer, about a week into June. Crisp light filters in through scattered windows in the lake house, framing Tony's figure as he looks out the window. The day has been slowly slipping through his fingers, and he knows what's coming. For all the planning and paperwork they've put into this, it's far harder to come to terms with as it actually happens.

Slim arms weave through his own, his hands in his pockets, and wrap around his waist. Pepper, the familiar scent of her perfume. Her breath elevates his chest against her own, her chin on his shoulder. "What're you doing?" She asks, swaying a bit against his body.

Tony lets out a soft exhale and turns to face her, returning the embrace. "Just thinking," he admits, not quite able to look directly at her. "Not gonna lie, Pep," he clears his throat, "I'm scared."

Pepper runs a soft hand across his hair and smiles with tears in her eyes. "I know," she swallows, and the pain in her voice is evident, "but you know it's going to be okay."

This is a quiet, loving lie. They tell this to themselves to feel better about what will happen later tonight, what they've been expecting for months now. They are settled in their decision, of course, but are nowhere near happy about it.

Morgan is not quite old enough to understand it in its entirety; at eight, she is obviously intelligent, but the rapid decline of her father's health was beyond her comprehension in its earliest stages, and now, as it is coming to an end, she is more so confused about what will happen after than why it is happening at all.

Many long talks with her, mostly on Pepper's end, as Tony is often unable to get a clear point across, have lead her to a stable acceptance of the subject.

Peter, on the other hand, has been so against the idea from the beginning that Tony's been fearing the worst- that he wont show up at all. He's 19, now, taking a gap year between high school and college. Other than lower-level villain defense, Peter isn't up to much at the moment, and his freedom to participate in the last clear days of Tony's life makes his absence all the more painful.

◇◇◇

Pepper's fingers lather shampoo through Tony's dark hair. She plants kisses on his soapy, wet cheeks, and cries as calmly as she can. It's moments like this, moments when he's aware and lucid that she misses him all the more. Every good moment has felt like the last in recent months, and now that is truly how it is.

It feels odd getting dressed for the last time- casual, comfortable, but something other than his standard pajamas- and his wife helps him pick out his last pair of clothes. He's gotten quite skinny, still muscular, but much smaller. Her arms fir around his waist so easily that her wrists overlap. She whispers that she loves him into his neck, and he tells her he loves her right back.

Tony pays a visit to Morgan's room soon before the doctor arrives. His daughter is sitting on her bed, eyes locked outside the window. She hugs a stuffed animal to her chest.

"Hey Maguna." He sits on the edge of the bed with her, and she glances warily at him. "You doin' okay?"

He runs a hand over her soft but messy hair. Her lips pout out in the way that they do when she's about to cry, and he kisses her cheek as the tears spill over. She doesn't sob or wail; it is resigned mourning.

"I just don't get why- if you're okay right now- why you have to go."

Tony takes in a deep breath. He had a feeling this question would come, as it is a perfectly natural reaction. He swallows the lump in his throat and hugs her from the side.

"Its because I'm okay right now that I know it's time to go. Thing is, kiddo, that things haven't been so easy for me lately. Things that everyone else can do without even thinking. And I don't always get to look at you, and see you for you."

He has to pause in order to not break down- six months ago, he forgot who she was. Simply didn't understand why this stranger of a child was in his house. It hadn't made sense to him when she'd burst into tears, and why he'd followed suit, as if some part of him knew what a self-betrayal it was to forget his own daughter.

"And I always want to look at you, and know you. And know your mom. And your big brother. I don't lose those things because I want to; it's just not in my control. But this is."

Morgan nods, a tear slipping from her cheek and over her lip. "I know," she admits. "I just wish you could stay."

◇◇◇

They eat dinner as a family, waiting in anxiousness for the arrival of Doctor Kleptach. Three chairs filled, and four spaces set for the meal. There is an emptiness that has yet to be filled, and it certainly isn't meant for the doctor.

Pepper keeps catching Tony's eyes, trying to reassure him that Peter will be coming, there is no way he'd miss this, but Tony isn't so sure. It feels as if Peter has completely separated himself from the family, as if he's rejected this new reality. Tony can't blame him; the last time the kid saw him, he was lost in the hall, wetting himself because he couldn't locate the bathroom in time. It must have terrified him, or at the very least, grossed him out.

It's coming down to the last twenty minutes before the doctor arrives, and Tony is certain that he wont be seeing Peter again until... well, until the time comes.

But there's a timid knock at the door, a catch of breath in each person's chest- and a tidal wave of fear that the doctor has arrived early. It's Tony who stands and makes his way to front of the house weakly, terrified that this means his time has been cut short. The doorknob turns, the door slides open-

And he's there. Peter launches himself into Tony's arms and he holds him there for a moment, hugging around him tightly. Tony tries not to focus on the way that Peter is quietly sobbing against his chest. When he finally let's go, Tony sees it in his eyes- this willingness to fight his own disagreement for the betterment of everyone else.

It's when he sees Peter standing there, red-eyed and tear stained, that he knows he can't go through with this. As much as it may have felt right, once, Tony still has a family. And though he falls apart, so often, now, he still has his good days.

He pulls him in, again, another embrace, and no longer for the last time. There will be many to come, and many to remember, even as he slowly loses those recollections, and moments in time that seemly do not exist any more. He is here, breathing and living right now.

When he turns to see his family, who stand awkwardly by the table, emotionally weary, he nods- and Pepper seems to understand, a slow-spreading smile on her cheeks. "Really?" She asks, breathless.

Tony grips Peter around the shoulders and smiles. "Really."

◇◇◇

Over the course of Tony's last years, he still lives out his good days. Most times he can be found, sitting on the patio of the lake house, across the table from his wife, trying his best to play stuffed animals with his daughter, or telling the few old stories he remembers again and again and again to the boy he is so thankful to call a son.

He does not always remember their faces, but they will always remember his, and that is enough.

[misscrazyfangirl321]

Hey! I saw that you're doing the Bad Things Happen Bingo. Could I request either Nightmares or Take Me Instead? I just finished Timeless and I'm in desperate need of some Garcy whump. Your first fic for the Bad Things Happen Bingo was awesome btw!!

@badthingshappenbingo

Fandom: Timeless 

Trope: Take Me Instead

Rating: T 

Warnings: Child in peril

-“Please.” She’s never heard his voice like this, quite so desperate and broken. He’s come close once or twice, but this is encompassing. Consuming. Suffocating. “Please, give her to me.”

Emma only laughs, tightening her hold. It doesn’t seem like it hurts, which is a relief, but Iris looks terrified, tears streaming down her face.

Iris.

Because somehow, Emma has her. Alive, uninjured, looking like she hasn’t aged a day since that fateful attack. As if she’s somehow been snatched from time and taken here. Lucy has questions, of course, but just at the moment, she also has a mountain of rage for the woman before them, who holds a gun in one hand, and Iris’ wrist in the other.

“Let her go,” Lucy snaps, and Emma rolls her eyes.

“Why? So your guard dog here can kill me? I don’t think so.”

“I won’t,” Flynn promises before she can answer. “If you let her go, I won’t-I won’t hurt you, just, please- ” He’s telling the truth, she can tell, but whether Emma can or not, (and whether or not she cares,) Lucy isn’t sure.

“Daddy, I’m scared,” Iris whispers, and Lucy’s heart shatters. Judging by Flynn’s face, his does the same.

“It’s alright, sweetheart.” He actually manages a smile, small and pained though it is. “It’s gonna be okay.”

But it isn’t. There’s no escape. No way out. Nothing they could do without endangering Iris more, and while Emma probably didn’t save Iris just to kill her, Lucy has no doubts that she’ll do it without hesitation if it comes to that.

They’re out of options.

“Take me instead.” Her voice is louder than she expects; everyone turns to her, wide-eyed, but she keeps her gaze fixed firmly on Emma. (If she sees Flynn’s face in this moment, it might break her.) “You don’t care about Iris. She’s nothing to you. Take me, and let them both go.”

Flynn draws in a sharp breath beside her, but says nothing, does not dare risk Iris’s safety.

Emma hums, assessing her. “I already have you,” she points out, but it doesn’t seem like she’s refusing. No, it’s like a puzzle, and her solving it is a matter of life and death.

Luckily, Lucy has always been good at puzzles.

“Right, but not willingly. If you let them go, I’ll go with you. I’ll sit quietly in my room, or do whatever you want me to do. Without me, they won’t know enough about history to try to stop you.”

“And if I don’t?”

She leans forward, channeling every ounce of her fury-at Emma, at Wyatt, at her mother -into this one moment. “If you hurt either of them, I’ll fight you every step of the way. I’ll rip a hole in history, so everyone will know exactly where to find you.”

Of course, Emma could just kill her, but Lucy knows she won’t. Not since her discovery of the journal. Unfortunately for Emma, she needs Lucy: to write the journal, to save her from the past. Without that, she’ll find herself back in a log cabin, hiding from Jesse James. (Or worse, cozying up to Lucy’s great-grandfather, just trying to earn a modicum of respect.)  

For a long moment, there is near-silence. The only sound she can hear is Iris, quietly sniffling.

Then, Emma beams. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Princess.” She releases Iris suddenly, nearly shoving her forward, and grabs Lucy’s arms in the same movement. “Get out of here, before I change my mind,” she tells Flynn, and Lucy can’t help but look up, to see his reaction.

Oh.

She was right before; it does break her, just a bit.

Raw anguish covers his face, and he glances between her and Iris desperately, maybe trying to find another solution. Maybe looking for a way to rescue both of them, but there isn’t one. She tries to feign a reassuring smile, but it’s weak, and he flinches in response. “At least let me say goodbye,” he pleads.

Surprisingly, Emma doesn’t refuse. “Make it quick,” she snaps, not releasing her hold. Flynn steps forward once, then twice, shakily, Iris clinging to his side. And oh, Lucy would give anything to gather him up in her arms, to whisper reassurances against his ear, but she doesn’t dare pull her arms free. And she is not nearly cruel enough to tell him she loves him, not when he’s about to lose her forever.

“Lucy,” he starts, but his voice breaks, and he cannot seem to find anything else to say.

That’s okay. It’s her turn to be strong for him. “You’re a good man,” she whispers, and a sound that might be a sob escapes his lips. “Take care of Iris. And-” Her mind races for something, anything, to make him smile. “Tell her where Rufus’s secret candy stash is.”

Oh. Him smiling might actually be worse. It’s just a twitch of the lips, pained and weak, and a hint of devastated awe. “Lucy, I lo-”

“That’s enough.” Emma looks pointedly at Iris. “Time’s up. And remember, if you try to come rescue her, I’ll wipe Iris from history. You know, like you did with Amy?”

No. Please don’t make him think of that. But she doesn’t dare speak, just tries to reassure him with her eyes that she loves him, she forgives him, and everything is going to be okay.

With one last heartbroken glance, Flynn scoops Iris up and runs, vanishing into the night. Gone forever.

Emma turns to her with a smile. “Well, Princess. Guess it’s just you and me.”

-

Months pass before she gets a chance. Months of torture and misery and loneliness, and not a single word from Flynn. She understands why, knows he can’t reach out, but she misses him more than she can say. But one night, when Emma is sleeping, Lucy sneaks into her room. In a flurry of bullets and blood, it’s over. She goes to the Mothership, locks herself inside, and sends a signal to the Lifeboat, just like Rufus once taught her. In minutes, they have both ships, and Lucy is back in the bunker. Home.

Flynn holds her so tightly she cannot breathe, refuses to let go. “I love you,” he whispers against her hair, “I love you, I’m sorry, I love you, I had to save Iris-”

“I know.” She clings. Oh, she clings. “I love you. It’s okay.”

Once again, he sobs, but this time, she can, too. There is no need to feign strength or bravery. Not here. Not now.

They do not let go for a very long time.

__

Thanks for the ask! I hope you enjoyed! Also on AO3, but I’m not linking to it, because Tumblr apparently doesn’t like links. 

[cinnamonrollstark]

Irondad Bingo: Trope: Protective Tony

Wow, thanks for the repost @irondadbingo!! Hope yall like the last one. If you haven't read it yet, do, because this is the second one in this little mini series! Enjoy!

◇◇◇

Peter's been sleeping in Tony's bed. He refuses to leave, get up, or to eat. He's still and unshakable, and hasn't cried since Tony picked him up. It scares the man, even though he knows that greif is different from person to person, he wants Peter to feel free to express what he needs to.

Periodically, Tony comes in with a drink and a snack- neither of which the boy consumes. He's focused on the blue walls of Tony's bedroom, breath still and concentrated.

"Kiddo?" Tony asks at the door, not picking up any real movement from Peter. "Do you mind if I join you?"

Just the slight movement of Peter's head, the almost nonexistent shake of curls. "Okay." He says, crossing the threshold, over to the bed, where he sits next to Pete. He rests a gentle hand between the boy's shoulder blades, sinking with each breath.

No words are enough to fix this. I'm sorries and condolences do nothing to mend him. The only thing that has made the slightest impact of the kid in the past three days is contact. Hugs, ruffles of the hair, and at night, being sandwiched between Tony and Pepper.

Tony was never a snuggler before Pepper, but when he started having nightmares, the warm form of her body molded around his was the only thing that could save him. He understands that now, as he pats Peter's back, occassionally running a hand through his hair. It's a very intimate thing, but in a very innocent way. Intimate in the way a newborn is as it rests against a parent's chest, feeling the heartbeat of a mother or father against their own.

Tony can feel Peter's heart, and he's grateful. Peter is alive. He cannot fathom how he or anyone else might've managed if he'd been with May that morning.

His heart breaks for the child. May was a kind and patient soul, a good mother- even only as a role she'd stepped into, an aunt in a parental set of shoes- and this loss is greater than Tony could ever wish Peter to outlive. He is small and shaky, a child taking his first steps in a world without one of the closest people to him.

Somewhere in another room, CNN drones on, some famous Republican and some famous Democrat arguing over something unimportant. Tragedy puts it all in perspective; everything outside this world is menial, a grain of sand against the asteroid-sized hurt.

"Peter, buddy. You've got to eat something," he whispers, expecting resistance. "I know how this feels, but you are here, Peter, and because you are here, you need to take care of yourself."

Peter rolls sideways against the comforter of the bed and props his head against his hand. His elbow makes a dent in the fabric.

"Okay," he resigns. "Okay. I'll eat."

He doesn't look too enthused, but he accepts Tony's word, and slowly gathers himself up and out of the bed. He stands in front of the blinds, and soft afternoon light creates a halo over his chestnut hair.

Tony watches him from the safety of his pillows and is amazed at his strength. From legs to belly to shoulders to neck, he holds himself upright, and manages to stay that way.

"On one condition," adds Peter, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "we go out somewhere."

°°°

Tony had definitely been suprised by the suggestion, but agreed all the same. They pull up out front and wait a moment before exiting the car. Peter's shaky in his seat, likely nervous about being in a car.

"What is this place?" Asks Tony, because he's lived in this city forever and he's never seen this resteraunt.

"A thai food restaurant. I haven't been in a while."

And Tony's not opposed, because honestly, if he thinks about it, pad thai doesnt sound so bad. When the sit down inside, he notes the lively lighting- bright and colorful. It seems like a great environment to be in tonight, and he feels that it will cheer him up.

They flip through there menus, and although he's not sure why, Tony gets the sense that's something's wrong. Peter frowns at his menu, either in concentration, or maybe he's just upset.

There's an item on the menu he just knows will make Peter laugh, thank god. "Pete," he starts. "Look at this."

Tony flips the menu around and points to the dish, giggling. "I could totally go for some Larb right now, what about you?"

At first Peter smiles, but the expression falters and crumples after a brief second.

"Oh, Peter." Tony grabs his hand across the booth, squeezes the soft skin. "Don't cry, buddy."

He instantly regrets it, although Peter doesn't really seem to mind. He's too focused on reeling it in, but Tony wants to tell him to forget that, to go ahead and cry if he needs to.

Peter wipes his eyes, smearing tears across his cheekbones. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, and let's it out. "I'm sorry," he says, hiccuping against the ball in his throat.

"Don't apologize. You do what you need to do."

"I know," sighs Peter, sniffing. "But I don't want to cry right now. I want to feel something other than sad or numb, and that's all I've got right now."

Tony gathers his thoughts for a moment before he knows what to do. Peter's been singing this song, nonstop for the past few months, a relentless tune that plays in the back of Tony's mind whenever he sees the kid.

"What are you doing?" Peter asks in response to Tony stepping up on top of his chair, and then the table.

"I try to say goodbye and I choke," Tony starts. Peter is instantly embarrassed.

"Mr. Stark. Get down."

"I try to walk away and I stumble,"

Peter pinches the bridge of his nose. "Oh my God."

"Though I ate a pie and its clear,"

"Those aren't the words."

"My world crumbles when you are not here!" Tony puts his hands on his hips. "Get up here."

"Tony. No."

"Tony yes. Goodby and I choke," He continues, louder now. By now, a good lot of people are staring. Waiters and waitresses are not amused.

Peter resigns to the fact that he has to join in. He stands on his booth and sings with Tony,

"Try to walk away and I stumble,"

And they're loud, now, probably too loud. Tony continues to sing the incorrect lyrics but Peter adds, "and though I try to hide it, it's clear, my world crumbles when you are not here."

"Sir," says a waiter, hands planted angrily at the small of her back. "I'm going have to ask the two of you to step down and exit the resteraunt."

Tony steps down and holds up a hand. "You finish singing." He looks to the waiter, who is annoyingly taller than him. "Let him sing."

"Sir!" Says the waiter, as Peter finished. "My wo-o-r-ld it crumbles, when you are not here."

When he's done, Pete looks down, satisfied. "Its time the two of you leave. Now."

And that same faltering, from before, that spark of joy that flits out of those big brown eyes, and it's the waiter's fault. Tony's fist rises and plants itself squarely under the man's nose before he can stop it.

As he tries to recover, Tony watches the light filter back into the kids eyes, and he pulls him off the table.

"Let's get out of here," he says, his hand gripped around Peter's exiting the door and laughing as it clinks in goodbye.

When they get to the safety of their car, Peter smiles at him.

"Well," he says, "I certainly didn't larb him."

And he laughs, and it's a glorious sound, a miracle to hear considering recent events. When Tony catches that fleck of golden hope hidden in Peter's irises, he hopes it never fades, and if it does, that he is not the cause.