#is there something wrong with the car?? do you not have someone to monitor it???

[idk-my-aesthetic]

Respectfully if you are on a train and take up a table seat and don’t even use it I am eating your phone

[doberbutts]

Anyway yes, people who can X should be accomodating to people who can't X. People who can walk should accomodate people who can't. People who can hear should accomodate people who can't. People who can see should accomodate people who can't. And on and on. When that doesn't happen, it's a problem that deserves to be talked about.

But the problem is not and has never been "physical disabilities are more important and deserve more accomodations than mental disabilities"- nor the other way around either.

People love to dunk on folks with ADD/ADHD but you know? As someone with ADD raised by diabetic parents I gotta say there's a lot of similarities here. People with ADD, myself included, often forget to eat and when they do eat they often load themselves up with carbs and sugars because those foods make their brains feel good. People with diabetes have to closely monitor their meals and often crave sugars and need a blend of sugary and protein-rich snacks on hand. This is not to say ADD and diabetes are exact one-to-one disabilities.

But having grown up watching my parents manage their diabetes, I too am very aware of meal times and blood sugar and constructing meals that will tide you over and having a blend of sugary and protein-rich snacks on hand Just In Case. I am able to manage my ADD better in this way because I have experience from watching my parents. I also need access to snacks and to be able to say to my boss "I need to go eat something real fast" without being punished.

I had a training client who was the image of "able bodied mentally ill" outside of the usual creaks and squeaks associated with age, her body worked just fine. But after a series of incidents in her youth- a car accident that left her with a serious brain injury, coming home from the hospital afterwards to immediately have her house broken into and herself raped by an intruder, and assorted medical malpractice while she was healing from both- she has a serious and extreme case of agoraphobia and spent the next 40 years completely unable to leave the house. She would hide and wail and scream when deliveries of groceries and other goods would come, because it meant a stranger (and usually a man) would be at her door. She could not go more than a couple steps outside to get her mail and especially not if other people were outside.

At some point her therapist suggested getting a pet, one that *had* to go outside, to help her. So she got a dog and contacted a trainer (me) and we got to work. And she did improve! The dog has been a huge help to managing her symptoms! But you cannot seriously expect me to have worked with this woman for years and then belittle mental illnesses as being lesser when this woman also shares the inability to even leave her house let alone go inside a grocery store. Even today there are times when she simply cannot, she cannot will her body to move out of her door and into transportation let alone into the building.

When she first started coming to me she thanked me for not belittling her or making her feel bad for classes she had to cancel because she couldn't force herself to take the first step over the threshold. That is when she told me what happened to her and that while it sounds terrible she was really happy to have found a trainer who knew something personal about trauma and brain injuries. She is also a case where I feel her ESA should be considered service dog not because of training or tasking but because her need is so high and she is just completely incapable of doing anything without the dog in her arms.

Anyway I think of her any time someone says "but you can walk through the door". There's nothing wrong with her legs so in theory sure she could. But often she *can't*, not because of anything physical, but because she is very severely mentally ill.

[narcissarina]

Hellooo pookie! :D

Could you write a fic about Re2 Leon, like a really lovey dovey one where he's a rookie and he falls in love with his lieutenant or something like that? 🧘

Hello, babyyyy. Yes I could write something like that but I swear I read a similar fanfic about it. And yes it's a leon fanfiction too, but I hope I did well ^^!!!

Here's part 2 if anyones looking for it

𝑆𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝐴𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕, 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒅𝒖𝒕𝒚.

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 2,961 (mf wrote a whole oneshot🥲🥲)

Leon heard that someone transferred to R.P.D, he doesn’t know who nor what rank they are but he reckons that it’s someone with high respect if he see his buddies getting worked up and actually doing something.

The boy had his head bowed in his desk, it’s been just two days when he was warmly welcomed, it was his first day and it was very memorable. His eyes were heavy and almost took a nap when someone slammed a file on to his desk, “wake up, rookie.” One of his co-workers said with a smile on his face.

They all heard a car pulled up, all of them got tense as one of Leon’s buddies kick him out of his chair and stand up. The room was silent and the car engine died, he could see an officer jogging up the small stair and opened a door for a someone.

It was you.

You had a long leathered black coat and wore a sunglasses, the aura you’re giving is dark and intimidating. You take a look around before turning to one of the officers, “This is R.P.D?” you asked, your tone flat and strong. A female officer nodded at your statement and flashes you a smile, “yes, ma’am. Do you like the interior..?”

Leon swore he heard a scoff, “it’s a mess, take that down and you all shouldn’t have bothered decorating, we have a job to do. Chop-chop.” You clapped your hand as the others rushes what they’re doing, the female and male officer led you to your office and made you familiarize around the area.

Heels clicking as they faded quickly to the background, Leon found himself standing idly and frozen when his friend bump into him. “Don’t you have work to do?” he asked Leon in a nervous tone, “I’ve already done my part.” Leon whisper back to his friend.

“If the Lieutenant heard you two whispering and not doing any work, you guys are fucked.” His other friend bothered to turn his head just to warn Leon and the other. Before the black haired guy leaves Leon to do his work, he got a grasp of his arm, “that’s Lieutenant?” he asked.

“Yeah, and if I were you. I wouldn’t make eye contact with her.” He says and left, getting his documents done. Leon was left alone standing beside his desk, he sat and think for a moment.

The moment he caught your eyes, he felt his heart skip a beat. Your voice was simply beautiful and angelic to him, is he falling for his Lieutenant thats just new to R.P.D? His thoughts were swirling as he felt his cheeks burning crimson, he feels like a little boy who has a big crush on someone and act like a little puppy.

While you were flipping through files and files, “wrong, wrong, redo.” You mutter, letting the two nervous officer hear your disapproval. “Not enough, now go.” Clicking your fingers together and scoot them away from your sight, you think there is just so much mess in this station and it needs fixing and more organizing.

You lean down to one officer and stare at the monitor, “I need people to patrol this area.” You point to the bottom right of the screen and beside it, “yes, ma’am!” Leon could hear they’re super nervous and scared of you, why? He’s just resting his elbow on top of his desk and resting his cheek with both of his palms.

Your eyes shot to him, thinking to yourself that there’s one officer who’s just chilling and doing nothing, you tap on a random officers shoulder—not bothering what they look like or get their name, “who’s that?” you asked, “oh, that’s Leon. He just started two days ago, a rookie.” You nod at their words and dismiss them.

Heels click and Leon heard them, he tensed up as he felt your presence behind him. The boy slowly turns and looks at you in the eye, maintaining an eye contact which most of the officer couldn’t do. “Rookie?” you called.

He stood up straight and put his heels together, “yes, Lieutenant?” his voice almost squeaked as he spoke, “why am I not seeing you work, Mr. Kennedy?” you knit your brows together but you’re not frowning at him. His heart race as you stood close to him, your arms folded and you shift your weight to your left.

Silence filled the room, it was eerie as the other officers prayed for Leon’s being. He spoke with a nervous smile, “I just finish my part..?” you nod at his words, thinking at the back of your head if this rookie is playing games with you.

You tut his words and let out a sigh, “is that so?” he nods, standing straight as he adjust his uniform. He was intimidated but felt his stomach flutter. “Nope, I heard that excuse before, rookie.”

He swallowed his saliva, his adams apple bobbing as he do so, before you could speak another word—someone cut you off, “ma’am we got a noise complaint…” said a female officer, you nodded and look at him. “You go, rookie. Since you don’t have anything to do.” You flash him back with a smile, he chuckles and salute you, “yes!” before heading off.

Now that you have him gone and run some errands, you got back to exploring the place once more as officers rushes to you to give you their printed document to get approved on.

You never know this, but each day. Leon’s adoration for you grew stronger, you were oblivious to Leon crushing on you. He just felt so warm and fuzzy and he loves it, the way your eyes met his to either scold him for bringing in a wrong document or that there’s errors in his reports—he didn’t mind that, he just loves to hear your voice and your attention to him even if it means he did frequent mistakes.

Gifts also started dropping off on the doorstep of your office, you once asked all of them, “who gifted this to me?” but they all shake their head, not knowing who keeps dropping gifts on your office doorstep. Leon made sure that no one sees him dropping them off though, otherwise he's caught.

He would get to work early so he could drop them off, then watch your face in a frown or confusion as you read the note that was attached. Making you grow curious who is it from.

This continues, and of course. Your nagging continues to Leon, he just grew to love it. He has his head bow on his table, you slam the file down as he flew back to his chair and rub his eyes with his wrist, “listen here, rookie. I don’t tolerate too much mistakes when you’re under my care.” You frown at him, grabbing the two of his armrest and pushed him back to his desk, the others just focused on their work and pretend they didn’t see a thing.

“The file you just turned in? It was good, but too many errors and I need you to redo them, asap.” You grit your teeth but try not to be too intimidating, Leon just looks at you in the eyes with love and adoration, you were cute when you’re mad. You see something in his eyes and sigh, you let go of him and mind your posture.

“Look,” you turn his chair and pushed him back at his desk, open the file he turned in and took a red pen from his desk. “This is fine, but this and this are…” you guide him through this and point out what he needs to do and how he properly does it, surprisingly, he listen to every word you said and nodded each time you asked him, “do you get that?”

It took a minute and Leon didn’t realize that you were leaning over his shoulder. He froze in place and feel his ears and cheek heat up, “I’ll be expecting you to redo this and turn it in, okay?” you spoke to him, finding anything in his eyes but you found none but his adoration for you.

“Leon, I’m not that scary, okay?” you sound like as if you’re talking to a child, “but if there is something that you’re having troubled with, you can come to me and I’ll guide you.” You added and pat his shoulder as you pull yourself together, “do you understand rookie?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He flashes as grin.

“Good boy, now keep up a good work.”

You turn your heels and walked away, returning to your office and plan things here and there. Leon blushes and lightly slam his forehead against his desk and brush his fingertips against his shoulder—where you were almost brushing against him.

He was too zoned out about you calling him a good boy as he earned a hard slap on his back, “g— fuck!” he curses and put his hand where it hurts and stings, “ow?!” he faces his buddies as they sat next to him, “the Lieutenants into you.” One spoke with a donut in hand, “I mean, why wouldn’t you go after her. She had a whole cake packing.”

“what cake?”

You just earned two screams and yelp from the two officers beside Leon, “Lieutenant…” his friend from the right swallows his saliva while the other put the whole donut inside his mouth, “do you two have cake? I would love to have one.” You hum, raising an eyebrow as you await for their response.

“N-No, n-no ca—”

“We just finished eating it, sorry we didn’t gave you one, Lieutenant.”

Leon saw a sad frown planted on your face but manage to keep your cool back, “it’s all right, I hope the cake you two ate is Red Velvet,” you nod at them, Leon open his mouth and asked, “is red velvet your favorite?” your attention to the blonde boy, “yes it is, now focus on your report Mr. Kennedy.”

And with that, you walked away again.

After that conversation, Leon got better at handing you his reports and documents—once he was assured that he can turn to you without having trouble to make up some mistakes to have a reason for your attention, he’ll ask for your help and feel your chest at the back of his head. When he does a good job, you praise him and give him a pinch in the cheek which you grew accustomed on.

Leon looked forward every time your hand made contact with his face, either giving him a pinch or gently pat. He’s so god damn in love that he’ll cover up your murder for you if you ever murder someone…

He wants more though, he wants to be able to hold your hand, grab you by the waist or bury his head on the crook of your neck and inhaling your scent that he'll grew to love. He was a puppy in love, you noticed his behavior and made him run errands for you: getting you your coffee, driving to your favorite café to get your favorite snacks.

You noticed how much he acts like a puppy when with you, but when he’s with his co-workers nor friends. He is chill and could look at them in the eye and hold conversation, but with you? He’s a stuttering mess and couldn’t hold eye contact for more than five minutes.

You waited him to make his move, you step inside the station as you were greeted with three officers inside as they always arrived early. Leon is having his nap to his cubicle, he looks so peaceful and unbothered by the bright light inside the station.

Your heels clicked and wall to your officer and dangle your key, you feel eyes on you as you quickly turn your head and catch a glimpse of Leon eyeing on you then quickly bow his head to his desk and pretend to be napping. You look down at the ground on cue as if you knew there will be another gift for you.

It was a red velvet cake, didn’t you just say that you love red velvet a few days ago with Leon’s friends?

You took it in and place it in your desk, Leon was watching and chuckling to himself like a kid that’s been falling hard.

Few hours later.

The station became busy again for the day, Leon is doing the best he can to help his co-workers with papers when they need him to double-check the files they’d be turning in. Since they all knew that Leon hasn’t been scolded for these fast few weeks. They wouldn’t be dealing with your intimidating remark and can handle Leon’s kind and soft words.

“oh no, you need to change this.” He points to the mistake that the female officer has, then another file was shoved in to his face. “This is good but this seems unnecessary.” He circles around the thing that needs to be removed in the males officers report.

Leon was packed with officers and files in his desk, someone taps his shoulder, “Lieutenant wishes to see you in her office.” Then walked off, they all look defeated and sulk at the sudden need of the Lieutenant to Leon.

A smile flashes to his face and stood up, “thank you,” he said and hold back his excitement when he walks towards your office door, he knocks and waited. “Come in,” and he did.

“Quite packed, huh?” you remark, looking up at him as you held the small cake in your hand and a spoon to the other, “they’re approaching you rather me,” you said and sliced a piece and ate it.

“It was… fine.” Leon said and closes the door behind him, “you need me for something, ma’am?”

“oh no, I just got made an excuse to get you away from the crowd.”

This made Leon smile as you were considerate to him, “although, I do need to clarify something.” You gesture to him to sit on the chair, he sat and tense up.

“Yes?”

“Were you the one who’s been dropping gifts on my office doorstep lately?”

His heart dropped, his heart race and he looked down. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“Leon, I installed a small camera on the door, I literally saw you putting down the cake and getting all giggly when you put the note in.”

Ah, he was caught. He got no more excuses so he confess, “yes… I did…” he mutter, he looks like a dejected puppy that’s going to get his punishment, “don’t you like them?”

“it’s cute and all, but you’re getting distracted from work, honey.” You lift his chin to make him look at you in the eyes, the pet name craved at the back of his head—your hand touching his chin, good god he’s fucking melting right under your touch.

The sight made you smile as you put the pieces together, “your reports and files that you turn in are quite an improvement, there are no mistakes nor unnecessary things in them.” You could imagine him having a tail and wiggling it when you praises his works, mostly importantly—praise him.

“You did good today, haven’t you?” you teased him, you could feel him tremble under your touch, “been a good boy too, helping his co-workers because they don’t want to face a big and mean Lieutenant.” You act as if you were literally talking to a child when Leon is a grown ass man.

His nails digging to his knees and nodded, “not mean…” he mutters, “what’s that?” you grab a hold of his chin and made him look at you directly, “You’re not mean, you’re lovely…” Leon mutter and you squish his cheeks together, you hum at his words and sat down to your desk.

“Is mr. Kennedy confessing?”

You tease him, as he holds himself back. Your thumb caressing his cheek and pushing a strand of hair out of his face. He grit his teeth and couldn’t hold himself back, you were caught off guard when he quickly got up from his sit and pushed you back to your desk and bury himself on the crook of your neck. Finally inhaling your scent and melt on top of you.

You two were silent as you pat him in the back, “good boy.” God that two words definitely made him melt more as you mistake it that he’s wagging his tail like an excited dog. “Want you…” you heard him, his lips brushing against your ear as he looks up at you and brush his nose to yours as he leans in to kiss your lips.

You didn’t resist and kissed back, your hand gripping on to his shoulder and the other on his bicep. He held you by the waist, you didn’t knew his hands would be massive too, he’s melting to everything. Your lips, your touch, your voice, everything. He is worshipping the ground you’re standing.

“not today,” you stopped him as he pulled himself from your lips, he sulks and looks like a sad little puppy that didn’t get his treat. “Not until you finally proved yourself to me, Leon.” You hum, cupping his cheek and pinching it again.

He smiles and nodded, saying he’d do everything to prove himself to you—you don’t know how much he’ll pour his entire soul to love you and please you and fit to your standard. He never thought that his silent affection would come to this, but it did and it worked.

He's yours and he’s going to do his best to make you his.

OK OK OK, I LOVE HOW THIS TURNED OUT!??!?!??! It turned out like an office romance lol. I HOPE I DID WELL!!! Reblogs and asks are appreciated <33

[alessioa]

this may be a strange request so no need to have to do it aha, but can you write a Georgia stanway x reader where Georgia does a header with England and scores but after heading it she gets really dizzy and faints and reader is very worried as Georgia is unconscious and has to be stretched off etc? you can add more detail as I’m not really sure but just something like that ? Sorry if it’s weird, you don’t have to do it, just a suggestion x

Georgia Stanway x Lionesses!Reader

Hard Header

In which Georgia Stanway passes out from a header and reader gets to take her home to take care of her.

TW: Concussion, passing out.

Thank you for the request, its not weird and feel free to ask more.

Georgia Stanway. Your best friend, the girl that was there for you through thick and thin, the one you grew up with, the girl that was there for you when you got your first lionesses call up. Georgia Stanway, the girl you loved. Was playing against the Netherlands with you. Both in the midfield. 

A corner kick came and you watched as the ball flew towards Georgia and she jumped to get it. As her head connected with the ball your heart almost stopped as it flew towards the net the keeper dived for it but missed they missed and she had just scored a goal. 

You all celebrated, but not Georgia. You were the first one to notice how she didn’t cheer or run around. She stood still looking at the ground, before she collapsed. By that time you were almost by her side as you had realised something was wrong the moment she didn’t move. 

You began to shout for the medics as Georgia was laying still on the ground, not moving. 

After a few minutes you heard her  groan and open her eyes. By then the medics had told you and Sarina that she would need to be subbed off and checked for concussion and other injuries. 

As Georgia began to get stretched off she was still not quite conscious and you needed to be with her, she was your best friend after all. And Sarina understood, so she subbed both you and Georgia off and you followed her to the medical room.

After a few tests it was clear that she had a concussion and would need to rest for a  few  weeks to recover. She would also have to live with someone to monitor that she didn’t exhaust herself and make sure she didn’t lose consciousness again. 

You immediately offered for her to live with you so you could take care of her. It was then decided that you could go home after the match was finished and that she would stay in bed for at least a day and a week without screens for her head to rest. 

When Georgia finally became fully aware of her surroundings the two of you were in the car back to your house. She had been conscious before but not fully aware. 

“Love, how are you  feeling?” you asked her, the terms of endearment quite normal for the two of you. “My head hurts” Georgia groaned and you softly smiled towards her. “Yeah I understand that, you got quite a concussion there” you said softly, not wanting to speak too loudly and cause her more pain. “Did I atleast score?” Of course she would ask that, it was more important than her health that they won. 

“Yes you did love, we won the game” you replied smiling. 

The rest of the car ride home was quiet. At your house you cooked her some food before you helped her in the bed. 

“Stay with me, please” Georgia asked as you were about to leave her in the guest bedroom to rest. “Okay love, let me just get changed” you said and went to get some comfier clothes. You then came under the covers of the bed and let her cuddle up against you. As she was on the verge of sleeping she quietly murmured “I love you”  and your heart almost cracked with love.

“I love you too” you whispered back. This was something you had to talk about in the morning.

[steppin-on-the-last-train]

As it Comes Back to Me

Natasha Romanoff x WinterSoldier!Reader

Summary: Your whole life you'd been living for a mission, whether it be protecting your family or fighting just to see the next sunrise. If you didn’t slow down though, you stood to lose someone you couldn’t live without.

Takes place during the events of Captain America: Civil War.

Word Count: 8,000

A/N: I spent way too much time writing this instead of studying for class.

“Hey kids,” you said, walking up to wrap your arms around Steve and Bucky. You’d just  been promoted to Major and had been sent back to the states to escort a fresh round of recruits to the front. There was a big event tonight though which begged for your attention. Howard Stark was showing some new invention or other of his. You’d never been too interested in what the scientists had to say, but there would be plenty of girls out looking to be asked to a dance.

Steve, your little brother–both in age and stature–looked less than thrilled at your return. “What’s wrong, buddy?” You asked, shaking his shoulder.

“It’s not fair,” he protested, shrugging out of your embrace. “I should be heading out with you and Buck tomorrow. I want to fight. I know I can help.” You felt for Steve. If it was him and Bucky standing in uniform and not you, you’re sure you’d be missing out on a whole lot.

“I know, I know. I’m sure you’d give them Nazis real cause to turn and run,” you said, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hold a rifle properly.

“Yeah,” Bucky added. “Ya know you should’ve seen him earlier today. Fought off some punk in an alleyway with a trash can lid. Kicked his ass real good if you ask me.” 

“Bucky,” Steve said. “Ya said you wouldn’t tell.”

“Oh, right. Sorry, what I meant to say was that Steve got beat up and I had to come rescue him.” The soon to be sergeant ruffled your brother’s hair.

“No, I know what you’re really upset about is that I’m stealing your boy here,” you said, nodding at Bucky.

“Yeah, yeah, enough. Now come on, I wanna get a good look at the car. All the posters were sayin’ Stark could make it fly.” Steve began to weave his way through the crowd, giving you no choice but to follow. 

“I’m worried about leaving him here all alone, ya know?” Bucky said, a crease forming between his brow. 

“He’s tough, and he’s smart. Always has been, you know that. Honestly, if they should be sendin’ anyone to fight they should be sendin’ him instead of us. But spirit’s not gonna win a fight, ya gotta back it up with somethin’. Point is, he’ll be fine on his own. Maybe if we’re lucky when we get back he’ll have found himself a nice girl to care for.” You smirked at Bucky. 

He ignored the jab as he waved at a group of nice looking girls. You waved too, flashing a smile and admiring the way their skirts fit. “Hey girls!” He shouted. As they made their way through the bustling crowd, he turned to you again. “I just worry about him. I care about him a lot and I can see how torn up he is about us gettin’ to go when he can’t.” A frown appeared to dim the light on his face. “What if he does something stupid while we’re off?” 

You clapped him on the shoulder and said, “You worry too much Barnes. You ought to save some of that for the war.” 

Giggling, the girls–the names of which Bucky had supplied earlier and which you had promptly forgotten–siddled up. The one nearest to you was a brunette with a yellow skirt and a white flower in her hair. She took your hand and pulled you right up to the front row. “Come on soldier, the show is startin’.” 

You smiled and let yourself get lost among the din and the spectacle. 

From beside you, Steve waved at you and said your name.

He said your name again, and again. You finally tore your gaze away from the TV monitor mounted in the corner of the room. Steve was much, much bigger now; even taller than you. You were still adjusting to the change. Although he still had the same kind gaze that came with naturally always wanting to do what was right, and believing others wanted the same. You wondered if you had been like that once too. 

“We need to get him out of there,” he said. Your gaze flicked back over to the security footage that showed Bucky restrained in a mobile holding unit reinforced with metal supports and bullet proof glass. You had thought he was dead, and turns out Steve had thought the both of you were long gone. And apparently, fate wasn’t done with any of you yet. Bucky looked drastically different. His hair had grown out to his chin and he had lost the boyish swagger and proud glimmer in his eyes. But beneath the bulk and hardened exterior you still saw your friend.

“I know. Something doesn’t feel right about this,” you said. A year ago you had been similarly detained. But you were held in the Avengers Compound and were surrounded by friendly faces. The people here were not so sympathetic. You could feel the passing judgment not just on the Winter Soldier, but on you as well. 

“Maybe we could talk to Tony again,” Steve said. 

From his seat across the table Sam shook his head. “Did you not just hear him tell us he was fully committed to kissing the government’s ass? Steve, I understand this whole ‘peace at all costs’ approach, but I have a feeling we’re not going to get our way by talking this time.” 

“Sam’s right,” you said, mouth twisting into a defeated frown. Through the glass wall of the office you were sitting in you watched a certain Avenger weave her way through the crowded room. You were torn, but Natasha had made her choice. “We’re going to have to consider punching our way out of this one. I got off lucky, but things are different now. The whole world is watching what will happen to him. Compromise isn’t an option anymore.” 

Hands on his hips, Steve sighed. “Well, we aren’t going to be able to grab him and get out of here. And we need our gear back if we have any hopes of not getting locked up in a real cell.”

As if sensing your staring, Natasha looked over. Quickly you averted your eyes and suddenly found the tabletop very interesting. But you knew she had caught you. Just a couple of weeks ago you had been spending your mornings going out on runs with her and your evenings watching her try and fail to play chef. She could go on for hours talking about the world and bringing you up to speed. You didn’t know what was more interesting; that the world had turned upside down or the way her voice sounded as she helped you make sense of it all.

And you both enjoyed the newfound freedom neither of you believed you’d ever see nor deserved. You had thought you knew her well enough to predict which side of the so-called Sokovia Accords she would be on. Turned out maybe you didn’t.

Sharon Carter walked into the sound proofed room, hopefully bringing more news. She seemed to have a soft spot for Steve, and you and Sam by extension. She was also the only person here that seemed to want to communicate with the three of you.

On the screen a man sat down at a table across from Bucky. He shuffled some papers around and faced your friend as if in conversation. You stood with your hands braced on the table and watched intently. A glove covered the shiny metal of your right hand. Under your sleeve, the flexible steel plating melded with flesh just below your elbow.

You knew visual without audio would only get you so far, but you’d be damned if you could figure out how to turn it on. 

“The receipt for your gear,” Sharon said, handing a slip of paper to Sam. 

He took one look at it and scoffed. “Bird costume? Come on.”

“I didn’t write it,” she said, trying to hide a faint smile. Now was not the time for jokes. Noticing the attention on the TV screen she pushed some buttons on a control panel and the audio switched on.

The camera showed a modestly dressed middle-aged man. “I’m not here to judge you,” he told Bucky. “I just want to ask you a few questions. Do you know where you are, James?.” He glanced down at his notes and removed his glasses amicably. From another angle, part of the screen detailed an uncomfortably close profile of Bucky’s face. After a moment of silence, he went on. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me, James.” 

“My name is Bucky,” he answered, still not making eye contact with the man.

“Who is that man?” You asked, wary of the stranger who was supposedly the only person authorized to make contact with the Winter Soldier.

“He’s a psychologist sent by the United Nations just to conduct a primary evaluation. I’m not familiar with him personally,” Sharon said.

Steve studied the blurry photograph of Bucky that had been taken after he set the bomb off in Vienna. “Why would the Task Force release this photo to begin with?”

“Get the word out, involve as many eyes as we can?” Sharon supplied.

“Right. It’s a good way to flush a guy out of hiding. Set off a bomb, get your picture taken. Get seven billion people looking for the Winter Soldier.” You could see the gears in his brain turning. Steve had always been the intuitive one.

“You’re saying someone framed him to find him,” Sharon said, catching on.

Sam spoke up, unsure of where your brother was going. “Steve, we looked for the guy for two years and found nothing.” 

“Sam has a point,” you said. You were all too familiar with the Winter Soldier program. If you didn’t want to be found, you had the ability to make yourself dead to the world. “We were trained to blend in, to hide in plain sight. Even if he had to run, no one man would ever be able to find him.”

“We didn’t bomb the UN. That turns a lot of heads,” Steve asserted.

“Yeah, but to your point,” Sharon said, nodding at you. “That doesn’t guarantee that whoever framed him would get him. It guarantees that we would.” 

“Yeah,” Steve breathed.

So there was a mole in the government, and he was probably in the building. Your gaze narrowed and you watched the people milling about outside your little bubble with a new suspicion. Whoever it was was obviously already ten steps ahead, you would have to wait until he made his next move. Beside you Sam stood from his seat, eyes similarly flicking from the screen to the windows and back. Steve looked like a racehorse ready to spring from its stall. 

From the corner of the room, the conversation continued on through the speakers, even if no one was paying much attention any longer. “Tell me, Bucky. You’ve seen a great deal, haven’t you?” The man asked. 

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You fear that…if you open your mouth, the horrors might never stop. Don’t worry.” 

The CIA agent, Captain America, the Falcon, and the Wolf Spider were too busy looking for a threat aimed at themselves to notice what was going on before them.

In the secured, private room five levels below the surface, Helmut Zemo received a message on his phone. A package of his had been delivered. Looking up, he wiped the false pretenses of innocence from his face. “We only have to talk about one.”

For a moment the room was plunged in darkness before emergency lights bathed the building in a red glow. The monitor with the video footage remained black. You looked at Sam. Now was your chance.

Steve looked to Sharon and she spoke without hesitation. “Sub-level five, east wing.”

No sooner than she had finished were the three of you bolting from the office and back the way you had been escorted in. You flew down the stairwell, concerned only for Bucky and getting to him before it was too late. But even super soldiers could only descend a dozen floors so fast. Heart racing, you jumped down the last flight, only to be met with a sign on the wall that read ‘Sub-Level 5; West.’ 

Without pause you pushed through the nearest doorway and wound your way through the maze of hallways. “This way!” Sam shouted. You and Steve rounded on your heels and went sprinting after him down a narrow corridor that served as a connection between the two wings of the building. The soft glow of emergency lighting lit the way, but between flashes the basement levels were pitch black. In the final stretch you overtook him and spilled out into another landing.  

The doors to the room on your right were destroyed. A dozen guards lay spread out on the floor unconscious. The chamber was completely silent, but you doubted the chase truly ended here. You knelt and checked the pulse of the agent at your feet. He was alive. 

“Help me. Help,” a voice cried out from further in the room. You picked up a discarded pistol and tucked it into the back of your waistband.

Steve was closer to the man than you and wasted no time picking him up and pinning him against the wall by his jacket collar. “Get up.” You’d never heard him sound so furious. “Who are you? What do you want?”

“To see an empire fall,” the man replied vaguely. After staring down Steve he turned to face you with the gleam of a predator in his eyes.Your heart pounded in your chest. 

“Steve, we need to find Bucky,” you said.

The echo of footsteps rang down the hall as Sam caught up. Right as he stepped through the door Bucky came lunging out of the shadows, metal fist swinging for Sam’s face. Sam ducked just in time to avoid getting his teeth knocked out. Instead, a fist-sized chunk of the concrete wall blew away into pulverized chunks. But by the time he righted himself Bucky had already launched another attack. This time he grabbed him by the jaw and threw him all the way across the room to crash into the holding unit. The impact was enough to knock him out cold.

Steve looked torn between chasing after Bucky, checking on Sam, and further interrogating the psychologist. 

“Go,” you said, nodding toward Bucky. “I got him.”

Steve launched himself at Bucky and pushed him back out into the hall. 

You pulled the gun and trained it on the guilty party. Outside the exaggerated sound of two super soldiers fighting reverberated back to you. The shuffle of quick footwork followed by the concerning crash of a metal fist colliding with a wall at inhuman speed. 

“Your name. Now,” you demanded.

“My full title is Baron Helmut Zemo. But I think the more important question is, who are you?”

The brawl in the hallway had stopped, and the renewed silence made you uneasy. “Enough with the games.” You flicked the pistol toward the exit. “Move. I’m taking you upstairs.”

He began to pick his way slowly across the room. “Okay, you’ve got me beat. But I just need to know one thing. Steve seems to think you’ve miraculously been returned to him the same as before he became Captain America.” It bothered you, how Zemo felt he had the right to use your brother’s name. “Show me what you hide from them, Wolf Spider. Show me who you really are.”

“Shut up,” you said, annoyed with his riddled speech. But before you could make another move, Bucky came ramming back into the holding room, kicking right at your stomach. The impact forced you to take a knee and as you scrambled to stand up, Zemo pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and began to speak. “Мрамор.” 

Even over the rushes of blood pumping through your veins and the stomp of Bucky’s boots on the ground, you still heard it. Like a heat-seeking missile the word wormed its way into your brain and you faltered.

Panic seized you. You needed to get to Zemo. “Bucky, stop!” You yelled, desperate for any way to get around him for even a second. As you tried to stand he planted a foot and your chest and pushed you to the floor. The air left your lungs in a gust as your back slammed into the cement. The gun went flying from your grip and skittering across the floor. “Dick move, Barnes,” you said in a strained whisper.

“Восемь,” Zemo said, sounding closer now even though you couldn’t see him. You clamped your hands over your ears and screamed. Taking a chance you bashed your metal fist into Bucky’s knee and charged for Zemo. “Жжение.” His voice sent you careening off course as if repelled by his words. Fighting for any last scrap of control you punched the wall until your knuckles left bloody streaks. You counted back from ten in your head, jaw clenched so tight it was close to shattering.

Your defenses broken, Bucky reengaged the fight. You scrambled, narrowly blocking his punches from beating your face in and counting you out. You reassessed and went on the offensive. You’d have to take him out before going for his handler.

Easier said than done.

“Рекрут.” You fought even harder, even as a fog crept up the back of your mind. Where was Steve?

“Снегопад.” Another nail in the coffin. He landed a punch to your face and a deep split opened on your cheek. You barely felt the blood run down to your chin.

“Пять.” You managed to land a right hook on Bucky’s weak side. You capitalized on the small victory. Seizing him by the shoulders you grappled with him for a moment before sweeping his leg from under him. He fell with a thud and you lined up a kick to the side of his head. You’d apologize later.

“Увядший.” The Wolf Spider crawled up the back of your spine, jaws gnashing at your brain for control. Your attention slipped for a fraction of a second. But that was all the time the Winter Soldier needed. He seized your ankle and pulled you to the ground. Before you could get your bearings he clamped his fist around your neck and threw you against the wall.

“послушный.” The Soldier rammed his knee into your stomach and you doubled over in an attempt to suck air back into your lungs. The room spun and the lights blurred together. A male Sokovian accented voice was all you could hear above the ringing in your ears.

An arm snaked around your throat from behind and forced you to stand. 

“An impressive attempt to be sure. But I’ve found that dogs can always be tamed.”

A fading voice in the back of your mind yelled at you to fight. Halfheartedly you tried to twist out of the Soldier’s hold.

“Одиннадцать.” A dam had cemented itself and separated you from your body.

“Пекин.” Your breathing became even and you looked to the man before you for instruction.

“Солдат?” He asked.

“Я готов отвечать.”

—

Natasha Romanoff walked through the chaos-ridden office, catching up to Tony Stark. Your swift absence hadn’t escaped her notice. She had almost chased after you herself. She’d desperately been wanting to talk to you since the Accords had been dropped in the team’s lap, but you had made yourself scarce since. She could tell that her decision had upset you, even if you were as unlikely to tell her so as you were to turn your back on Steve and Bucky. 

“Please tell me you brought a suit,” she said. Because a fight against three super soldiers would be much easier won with a trick of their own.

“Sure did,” the Iron Man replied. “It’s a lovely Tom Ford, three-piece, two-button.” He stopped his nervous rant. “I’m an active-duty non-combatant.” Fancy speak for the government not being comfortable with his access to the greatest weapon’s system on the planet.

Sharon Carter ran up to them, an earpiece providing information Natasha nor Tony were privy to. “Follow me,” she told them. 

They made their way downstairs onto the ground level. “The Winter Soldier has been unleashed,” Agent Carter said. “He’s on this floor in the lobby, probably trying to escape.”

“That’s a no-can-do from Agent Ross. We need a plan. Nat?” Tony looked expectantly toward the Black Widow.

“Why is it always up to me?” She asked, even as a plan formed in her mind.

“Because everyone knows my job is to look good and provide charity for you free loaders.”

Natasha narrowed her gaze at Tony’s watch. “Which outfit is that a part of?”

“It is as practical as it is fashionable. Glasses too,” he said.

“Tony, you’ll come up on him from behind. Get his attention, and try to disarm him if you can. Carter and I will be right behind.”

“I don’t remember volunteering to be the bait, Romanoff.” 

Natasha motioned for Sharon and they picked their way around the edge of the sun-lit lobby. Civilian workers fleeing for their lives rushed around them in a current, but the women stood as solid as stone. The sound of combat reached her ears before she was able to see into the main lobby. A metal fist pounded against flesh and man after man crumpled to the floor. The snap of a bone being broken and the subsequent screams. 

Natasha rounded the corner into the foyer just as a terrible supersonic blast flooded the area. Tony had stunned the attacker if only for a moment. To her horror it wasn’t Barnes standing there, but you. She couldn’t see your face as you moved to pummel Tony, but she knew what she’d see. A figure of a ghost from the Red Room flashed before her eyes.

A gunshot shook her out of her stupor and she ran after Sharon into the fray. You elbowed Tony in the face before punching him in the gut hard enough to send him flying into a table several feet away. 

Before you could finish the job Sharon ran at you, forcing you to block a kick and a jab. You wound up an answering punch that would’ve cracked her sternum but she ducked away and you missed. As you recovered, Natasha lodged a knee into your stomach before crouching down to jab you in the groin. She didn’t want to fight you, but she would. All it took was one look into your eyes to separate the Wolf Spider from the person she knew you were.

Sharon landed a roundhouse kick to the head but as she wound up for a second assault you caught her leg and hurled her down onto a table. The legs broke underneath with a clatter. 

As you were turned around, Natasha took the opportunity to seize you from behind and flip herself up onto your shoulders. With anyone else she would’ve been able to floor them from this position. But the Wolf Spider intimately knew all of the Black Widow’s moves. All those years ago, you had taught her much of the combat she still used today. 

She rained down blows on your head as you crossed the lobby. She grunted as she threw her fists down over and over in a vain attempt to get you to drop her. Instead you carried her to a table and slammed her down. Before she could recover, you clamped your hand around her neck and choked her out. 

Scrabbling at your metal forearm, Natasha’s face burned red. She felt her windpipe being crushed under your grip. But even under the eclipse of death’s shadow, the scariest thing was what they’d done to you. She knew you’d tear yourself up about it later, and worse she knew no one here would understand.

On the verge of passing out, she managed one last choked whisper. “You could at least recognize me.” Maybe, as Natasha’s heart was shattered in two, she could pass some of that anguish onto you.

If anything you only squeezed harder and she felt the strength waste away from her muscles. 

Seemingly out of nowhere you were shoved off of her. She gasped and pulled as much air in as she could through her bruised throat. All she could manage was to stare up at the ceiling and blink away the spots from her vision.

Rallying, Natasha pushed herself up and saw Tony standing over you with his mechanical gloved hand extended. She coughed and asked, “How?” 

You were on your knees, hands clamped tightly over your ears and fingers digging into the back of your head.

  “Lucky guess,” Tony said. “Think of it like a dog whistle, but for super soldiers. And also like blow your head off levels of loud. Had to estimate the frequency after getting beaten half to death. But it looks like I’ve outwitted the killing machine.”

Natasha was frozen. You’d just about suffocated her, but a large part of her still wanted to yell at Tony and tell him to cut it out. “Does it hurt?” 

“Well, it’s no symphony, I can tell you that.” 

She threw a glare in his direction.

“I don’t know. Ballpark? Somewhere between a migraine and an ice pick through the ear.”

A dozen more security personnel came flooding in. They rounded in a circle around you and half of them readied their guns. The rest assaulted you with tasers. You fell to the floor in a series of violent spasms and Natasha looked away. 

“Let’s get this one ready for transport,” one barked.

“Natasha, are you okay?” Tony asked.

“I’m fine,” she said, voice still raw.

“That psycho almost killed you.” He always got assertive when he was worried. “You see, this is why we need the Accords. To keep chaos from breaking out in refuges of peace for godsake.”

Natasha looked back at where your limp body was being dragged away. She wished she could go back to before any of this started. She was terrified that she had missed her chance to tell you how she felt. “He’s not a psycho.”

“Then you and I have very different definitions of the word.” 

“Stark.” The disappointed voice of Secretary Ross called.

“We have the Wolf Spider in custody sir.” Tony adjusted his tie.

“And Barnes, Wilson, and the other Rogers are all in the wind. One out of four is three less than I expected of you.”

But Natasha had had enough of Thadeus Ross for a lifetime. She walked away wishing that you were by her side instead. Isolated from the beaurucrats and politicians and the bridge with Steve having been thoroughly burned, she felt lost. All around her the pieces of the life she had worked so hard to build lay scattered. The overwhelming urge to hit something surged. How did she get here?

—

You sat by Natasha under a tree in the forest behind the Avengers’ Compound. The chirping birds and the rustle of wind through the leaves were the only sounds that broke the silence out here. Everything at the compound was a blur of light and rush of movement all the time. You couldn’t get two seconds without someone needing something from you. So you had developed the habit of sneaking out and picking a random direction to pass an afternoon. 

Natasha had a book in her hands. Today her hair was pulled back in a braid and thrown over her shoulder. You liked when she put it up because you could see her face more clearly. 

“He talked a lot about the past, and I gathered that he wanted to recover something, some idea of himself perhaps, that had gone into loving Daisy,” she read. You ran your hand through the grass and dirt absentmindedly. “Are you listening?”

“Yeah, of course.” You had been listening, but not to what she said, but how she spoke it. “It’s just I’ve read Gatsby before. Jay is a dreamer, but he still loses everything. It’s not fair. He didn’t know any better but to follow his heart.”

“That’s not how I see it,” she replied. “Listen. ‘His life had been confused and disordered since then, but if he could once return to a certain starting place and go over it all slowly, he could find out what that thing was’.” She shifted closer, leg almost bumping your own. Uncomfortable with the proximity bordering on affection you subtly moved away. “Jay is chasing a life that he can no longer have. And in the process he ruins himself, and the woman he loves. He should’ve known better.”

Overhead the branches had become indistinguishable from one another and instead blended together as one entrapment. The fading orange glow cast by the setting sun reminded you to start heading back. The woods would be near impossible to navigate without the light. You stood and reached a hand out to help Natasha up. She grasped it tightly and instead pulled you down to her.

“You should’ve known better.” A haunted despair paled her features.

“What?”

The crack of fracturing bones echoed throughout the lonely clearing and Natasha cried out. Your hand had begun to squeeze hers tight enough to crush it. You willed yourself to let go but your stubborn metal fist refused to obey. 

“You destroy everything you love, even if you never say the words out loud.”

A bullet hole slowly materialized in the middle of her forehead. Blood seeped down her face and she smiled a bloody smile. 

“You should’ve stayed dead.”

You jerked yourself awake with a gasp. The dream faded from your mind almost immediately, as had the once before where you’d been stuck in a cave, and the one before that where you’d slaughtered an entire family.

You took a second to examine the unfamiliar environment. The cell you were in was bright and clean, and the camera assured there was no privacy. Across from you was an identical unit. In fact, the entire room was just an octagon of prison cells. 

You rubbed at your face, only for the movement to be followed by a metallic clanking. Both of your wrists were manacled with thick iron cuffs which were anchored to the wall with a chain. Your left wrist was chaffed and dried blood coated your hand. Alarm surged through you. 

No, you would rather die than play prisoner and puppet for anyone else again. 

You stood up, suddenly feeling claustrophobic. But when you tried to step away from the wall you were yanked back, not by your wrists, but by a chain around your neck. Coughing, you fell back against the wall and pulled at the tight restraint. All you succeeded in doing was irritating the inflamed skin underneath. 

“Hey buddy, are you okay?”

You snapped your attention to the voice. You didn’t recognize the guy who had spoken, but the man in the cell next to him looked familiar. Your head throbbed as you tried to remember. He had short brown hair and sat hunched over on a bench, just watching. 

“Fine,” you said. Your voice sounded about as shitty as the rest of your body felt. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Scott. You actually don’t know me cause we haven’t met, but I fought with your brother. He’s a really nice guy. Of course you know that.” You shot him a glare. “You know what, I’m just going to shut up now.”

Confusion spun your battered brain around even further. Your brother. You had a brother named Steve. Steve was small so you had to–wait, that wasn’t quite right. Steve’s strength had caught up to the size of his will. He was a soldier. The Soldier. Солдат. A fresh pang wracked your head. No. A captain. Captain America. 

The room felt cold but your hand was clammy. Sweat dampened your hair as if you had caught a fever. You squeezed your eyes shut. Why were these lights so damn bright? Where were you? 

“Hey, what’s going on? I can’t see into the cell. Is he back?”

You knew that voice. You trusted it as well as you may trust anyone. If only you could think harder. You opened your eyes and again saw the familiar-looking man. The name came to you this time. “Clint,” you said.

Hope cleared some of the melancholic fog that had marred his features.

“Where are we? What happened? Where’s Steve?”

When he spoke, it was reserved, but you could tell he was holding back. “Steve called me. The Avengers fought. Some of them are picking up the mess. The rest of us landed our asses in here. You though…you were already here when they brought us in. I wish I could tell you why.”

“It’s Sam,” the man in the unit directly to the right of yours said. He banged on the wall for effect. “You were with me and Steve back in Berlin. Bucky was controlled and he went after us. He knocked me out and by the time I woke everyone was gone. I met up with Steve and Bucky outside, but you were gone. I’m sorry. If we would have known…”

“It’ll come back eventually.” Even if you could barely remember your own name now, somehow you knew this. The memories always came back, especially the bad ones. 

“I should tell you, this isn’t the first time you’ve woken up,” Clint said. Scott looked away. “The first two times you didn’t say anything or acknowledge us. You just pulled away as hard as you could until you made yourself pass out.”

“Great,” you muttered under your breath. So they had all received a front row view of the mindless monster you were. “What is this place, anyway?”

“They call it the Raft. It’s an American prison unit that they dropped into the middle of the Atlantic.” Barton’s voice had taken on an undercurrent of anger. “It’s where they stick the worst of the worst.”

“Is anyone else here?” You asked.

“Wanda. Probably. I don’t know, they put her in a separate transport.” Your heart dropped. Why would they bring her into this? She was just a kid. And with her powers, you could only imagine what they were doing to keep her locked up. 

You didn’t ask if there was a plan. The atmosphere here wasn’t exactly revolutionary. You drew your knees up to your chest and rested as best as you could.

Sometime later–you were sure the room had been built to be purposefully disorienting–the door slid open with a whir. In walked Tony Stark, his left arm in a sling and sporting a terrible black eye.

Clint stood up and began to slowclap, finally finding a target to take his anger out on. “The Futurist, gentlemen! The Futurist is here! He sees all! He sknows what’s best for you, whether you like it or not.”

The goading worked, drawing Tony’s attention away from you. “Give me a break, Barton. I had no idea they would put you here. Come on.”

He spit on the ground in defiance. “Yeah, well, you knew they’d put us somewhere, Tony.”

“Yeah, but not some super-max floating ocean pokey.” Stark gestured at the barred cells, gaze catching on you for a moment. “You know, this place is for maniacs. This is a place for…”

“Criminals?” Clint walked closer to the glass of his cage. “Criminals, Tony. Think that’s the word you’re looking for. Right?” The two estranged teammates stood eye to eye.  “That didn’t used to mean me. Or Sam, or Wanda. But here we are.” A long time ago that didn’t used to mean you either. 

“Because you broke the law.”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t make you.”

Clint turned his back on Tony. “La, la, la, la, la…”

“Alright, you’re all grown up, you got a wife and kids. I don’t understand, why didn’t you think about them before you chose the wrong side?” Realizing he wasn’t going to get anywhere with Clint he walked away. 

Barton rounded on him. “You gotta watch your back with this guy. There’s a chance he’s gonna break it,” he said, slamming on the glass.

“Hank Pym always said, you never can trust a Stark,” Scott said with as much menace in his voice as he could conjure. You wondered how a civilian like him had gotten wrapped up in this fight.

“Who are you?” Stark walked right past him and onto Sam’s unit.

“Come on, man.”

“How’s Rhodes?” Wilson asked, not as willing to bite as Clint had been.

“They’re flying him to Columbia Medical tomrrow. So…fingers crossed. What do you need? They feed you yet?”

You couldn’t see Sam from your cell, but you hoped that he’d tell Stark off too.

“You’re the good cop now?” He asked sarcastically.

“I’m just the guy who needs to know where Steve went.”

“Well, you better go get a bad cop, because you’re gonna have to go Mark Fuhrman on my ass to get information out of me.”

Stark messed with his watch. “Oh, I just knocked the ‘A’ out of their ‘AV’. We got about thirty seconds before they realize it’s not their equipment.” You looked up at the security camera in the corner of your cell. Could he really do that? “Just look,” he went on. “Because that is the fellow who was supposed to interrogate Barnes.” A little picture of a clearly dead man appeared out of thin air. “Clealy, I made a mistake. Sam, I was wrong.”

“That’s a first.”

“Cap is definitely off the reservation but he’s about to need all the help he can get. We don’t know each other very well. You don’t have to…”

“Hey, it’s alright,” Sam interrupted. You wished you were in his eyeline so you could shake your head no in silent protest. But you didn’t have the energy or mental capacity to pick a verbal fight right now so you stayed quiet. “Look, I’ll tell you…but you have to go alone and as a friend.”

“Easy.”

Sam spoke so quietly you were sure without super hearing you wouldn’t have heard. “They went to an old Soviet-HYDRA bunker in Siberia. The fake doctor is going to unleash five more Winter Soldiers.”

“Okay. Wilson, I won’t forget this,” he said with fake malice in his voice to impress the cameras. 

He turned to you next. “Rogers.” He saluted. Shame burned your face. You felt like a wild animal on display. And Tony Stark’s presence wasn’t exactly a comforting one since you presumed he was largely at fault for the team’s current predicament. “You’re not going to go all Terminator on me again, are you?”

You stared at him blankly, not moving from your place on the floor in the middle of the cell. 

“Really? Nothing. I just came up with that one. Any messages from you to your brother I can deliver when I find him?” 

“Tell him after all this he needs to get his ass as far from trouble as possible. Tell him I’m right where I should be.”

“How about I just say you’ll send him a postcard?” He quipped, walking away.

“Stark,” you called. “Lay a hand on Steve and I will find you.” 

He didn’t turn back, but he gave a thumbs up on his way out.

—

You don’t think you could ever tire of the view before you. For most of your life you never believed you’d travel outside New York City, but here you were on the other side of the world. The waters below the ship were as blue and clean as great artists imagined in their scenes. The current lapped gently at the hull and you let the sound wash through you. Ahead, snow-capped mountains rose into the cloudy sky. The buildings and streets you were so used to being surrounded by in the city were replaced by miles of undisturbed woodland. The sky was overcast, but calm for now. Mist hung in the air and clung to your jacket. Maybe it would storm later, maybe it wouldn’t. You found peace in the apprehension. 

“Hey,” Natasha said. You hadn’t heard her come up. She joined you at the railing and pushed a phone into the water.

“How’s the Good Secretary?”

“I’ve got him chasing his tail in D.C. We are officially in the wind.”

Steve and Natasha had broken you out of the Raft three days ago. Since then you’d decided to split up while the heat died down. He had wanted you to go with him, but you couldn’t look at your brother without feeling crushed by six decades worth of guilt. You still thought he would be safer without you, but you couldn’t escape the disappointed look on his face. Hurting him was like kicking a little puppy.

“Steve would love this place,” you said. Natasha took in the view while you admired her. Her hair was down and flowed past her shoulders. The wind blew strands of it about in a way that told you God indeed played favorites. “He loved to draw. And he was damn good at it too. Kid used to draw everything. Our old apartment, back alleys, the sky. He wouldn’t know what to do if he saw all of this.” 

“You’re worried about him.” 

“Really? Was I being that obvious?” You were tired, but you smiled anyway.

“The first time I met Steve he couldn’t make heads or tails of the shirt on his back, much less anything else humanity had changed. Yesterday, he was piloting the most advanced jet on the planet. Sounds like he’s the same resilient kid you grew up with. Except now he can throw a man a couple dozen yards.”

“I think he could literally be invincible and I’d still worry,” you admitted.

“I think that’s how family is supposed to work. And if it helps, he’s got Sam to watch his back.”

“Why did you volunteer to come with me?” You asked. You bit your lip nervously and scanned the grayish-blue horizon. “I almost killed you. I mean I would have killed you if Stark hadn’t…” You’d opened Pandora’s Box and couldn’t stop all of the guilt from pouring out. “And all those years ago in the Red Room, what I did to you. Why don’t you hate me?”

“Because I know who you really are. And that wasn’t you. Never was.” She said it so fervently that you almost believed her.

“But that’s just the thing. It was me. All of that blood is on my hands. If something happened to you, that would be on me.” And I don’t think I would survive without you. You left the rest unsaid, but it hung in the air just out of reach. “All he had to do was say the goddamn words and I lost it.”

“And you came back.” You found your mind wandering off into the mountains afar. “Hey look at me.” She laid a hand on your shoulder and brought you back from your reverie. Her warm breath fanned across your cheek. “You’re okay. We’re okay.”

“I can’t shake this feeling, Nat.” You heaved a shuddering breath. “That horrible voice is always in the back of my head. I’m so scared that one day it’ll drown me out.” Your eyes hurt from the force of holding back tears. “Please don’t let it drown me.”

Natasha wrapped her arms around you in a supportive hug. “I’ll never give up on you,” she said. “You can always come back to me.” You cautiously hugged her back and draped yourself over her. You concentrated on what was around you. The smell of the sea-salted air, the warmth of her body, the churn of the boat's engine.

You let her go and cleared your throat, rubbing harshly at your eyes. “Me too,” you said. “I mean, I’m here for you. ‘Til kingdom come.” You’d always fight for her. Truth is you had been for a long time now, you just didn’t realize it. 

“You’re not the only one who’s done unspeakable things,” she whispered, as if preoccupied with reliving some awful memory. You weren’t the only one with demons intent on ruining any scrap of peace.

“Aren’t we quite the pair?” You inspected her hoodie and all of its familiarity. “Is that my sweatshirt?”

“No,” she lied, even as she messed with the ends of the sleeves that went well past her hands.

“Mhm. So did you bring any of my clothes for me or…?”

“I didn’t know if I was ever going to see you again,” Natasha said. Her voice was shaky with frustration and pent-up anxiety. “I was so worried. I thought that this would be all I had left to remember you by. I kept thinking that we would get into the Raft and you wouldn’t be there.” 

“I’m sorry,” you said. The week and a half you were locked up for you hadn’t thought about where she might be. You told yourself you were too preoccupied with Steve and Bucky to otherwise focus. But you knew to think about Natasha was to admit you cared deeply for her. That was a battle you weren’t ready to surrender. “I didn’t know.” But maybe now was the time to lay down arms.

“That’s right you didn’t know. You didn’t think. That’s the problem you think you’re invincible and you run headfirst into danger time and time again.”

“I can take care of myself.” 

“Except it’s not just you anymore, Rogers. There are people that care about you and how you act affects them. When you make a stupid move it’s not just you who suffers the consequences.” Her voice cracked under the weight of the words.

“I can’t just sit around when something goes bad. You can’t ask me to do that.” You had so much time, so many lives to make up for. And that came about by means of action.

“I thought that you were dead. Don’t you understand that?” Natasha’s eyes were full of sorrow and accusation. Your cheeks flushed and you stared into the icy waters. She had every right to be mad. “When they dragged you away I was sure they were going to execute you. Again.” 

The reference stung. When the Red Room found out you’d broken your programming they’d practically beaten you to death in front of Natasha before shipping you back to HYDRA. The scars still burned in your dreams.

An apology formed on your lips. “I know,” she said. The bitterness had burned itself out of her tone. What was left you couldn’t describe. A profound understanding, edges brightened by the hope of a fresh start.

An unspoken something lingered in the cool morning air. 

Natasha grabbed your gloved hand and intertwined her fingers with yours. She leaned over and rested her head on your shoulder. A warmth bloomed in your chest. 

You thought that, just maybe, you’d found where you were supposed to be.

[lelengerine]

because of ur new gamer!hyuck post my brain has once again been infiltrated with him and i thought of a request if ur able to do it!

so do yk the whole perilla leaf debate that was going on in korea like a while ago? i was thinking maybe hyuck sees reader peel a perilla leaf for someone else (or reader sees hyuck do it) and then later when they’re streaming together, one of them asks chat who was in the wrong and to back them up/choose sides (jokingly ofc)

you had me thinking as soon as i read this TT i think it's so fun so i just had to write it asap! thank you for the req and i hope you enjoy reading :>

up for debate

pairing | gamer!hyuck x reader

genre | established relationship au, just a lot of fluff, mentions of food, nicknames are used for haechan (lovie) and reader (baby, cutie, lovie), gaming term mentioned (fps - first person shooting game), do lmk if i missed anything!

wc | 1.0k

m.list

haechan’s been more clingy ever since the two of you parted ways with his friends, leaving the korean bbq restaurant you just ate at with weighted steps. it wasn’t like he didn’t act in this manner on a daily basis, because he often did, and it’s become something you’ve grown to adore over time—yet on this occasion, the gut feeling of him being off was getting to you.

honestly, you don’t even know the cause for the doubt you have on your boyfriend’s behavior. though, every time you try to pull it out of him by nudging his shoulder, he only rejects your advances of questioning by clinging onto you closer than he originally was. that surely wasn’t normal.

“hyuck, did i do something today?” you state softly as you take a step in the passenger seat of haechan’s car. 

“the perilla leaves.” his reply is simple, and you note of the pout in his voice. was he referring to the side dish you were eating earlier in the restaurant? just how does that have anything to do with his mood? 

you were utterly clueless.

“the perilla leaves?” you repeat, making sure you heard him right the first time. he nods his head, taking a quick glance at you before starting the car. “lovie, i don’t understand how a side dish-”

“shhh, you’ll understand soon enough, cutie. i think it’s a good topic to bring up on stream later when we get home.” he gives you a grin that does nothing to ease your confusion, in fact, it leaves you even with even more questions, but you decide to sit it out for the meanwhile till you both get home. 

and just like that, the ride back home feels longer than it should be, mainly because you're anticipating the stream you and haechan had planned in advance. you shift in your seat from the eagerness and haechan can’t help but chuckle as he watches you from his peripheral view. 

he rounds a familiar street corner, and you immediately know you’re both 5 minutes away from your house at most. you pass by a couple of houses before yours comes into view. “i better be hearing a good explanation of today, hyuckie.”

“so eager, baby. we’re literally here.” he points out, the car coming to a stop as he parks in the driveway. once you hear the doors unlock, you step out of the vehicle, urging your boyfriend to do the same so the two of you can start the stream already—a request he gives into easily.

entering haechan’s stream room without a moment to spare, you take a seat on the gaming chair beside his, one that’s usually reserved for you. he takes his place in the comfort of his own seat, turning his monitor on.

the streaming software immediately pops up as soon as the screen loads, haechan clicking a couple of buttons before his face cam signals that it had begun recording with a small red light flashing from it.

“hello everyone! me and y/n promised a stream for you guys today, right?” he flashes a wide smile towards the camera, and you send a small wave the audience’s way.

user_01: i’ve been anticipating this all day!!

user_02: if it isn’t our favorite couple <3

“hyuck said he had something to discuss and wanted you guys to be included in it.” you bring up without missing a beat.

“i was getting to that, baby!” haechan whines now that you’ve cut through his momentum, and you bring your hands to cup his soft cheeks while laughing. “sorry, lovie. continue?”

user_03: you guys are so cute TT

user_04: every time i come here, i feel even more single than i am…

“what do you guys think about your lover helping one of your best friends take a perilla leaf to eat?” he starts, and your eyes go wide, quickly recalling your actions from earlier in the restaurant.

user_05: no way!! nope nope nope!!

user_06: wait, what’s the problem from helping? idgi… i’m with y/n on this one

“hyuck, is this really what you’ve been thinking about?” you turn to face your boyfriend. “you know it means nothing-” 

“you used your chopsticks to help jisung a while ago!” oops, there goes the name drop. the younger was now probably going to receive a few messages from your audience about this conversation when he goes live later on. “that’s like… indirectly kissing him!”

user_07: I AGREE!! 100% hyuck’s right

user_08: idt it should mean anything. peeling shrimp for someone else tho… now that’s something

you both glance at the messages, noting your audience was split fifty-fifty regarding this issue. “the poor boy was struggling!” you try to reason out.

“you didn’t have to help him though! that’s a grown man!” he huffs in return.

“… he’s jaemin’s baby though?” you smile st him sheepishly after saying that, hoping it was a big enough of a loophole for him to drop his claims against you.

“not the same, babe.” your boyfriend deadpans with a look of disbelief, finally giving up on the debate, making you giggle from his expression.

“okaay, i’m sorry. i won’t do it again.” you bring up a pinky, and haechan instinctively wraps his own around yours.

“you see this, right guys?” he raises your intertwined pinkies, making sure the viewers are witnesses to your promise.

user_09: caught in 4k!!! 

“good.” hyuck beams as he sees the comment, lowering your hand down with his. “i think we got a bit pumped from that, don’t you think? now’s the perfect time to play games and keep the adrenaline up!”

user_10: omg play fnaf together ><

user_11: kinda want to see y/n play a fps

“y/n playing fps? what do you say, baby?” haechan asks, courtesy of the viewer’s suggestion, and you hesitantly nod along, knowing full-well it isn’t your forte by any means.

“i still don’t get how you move on from things so quickly.” you mumble mindlessly, resting your head on his shoulder as he opens up the first fps game he sees on his monitor, that being valorant.

“that doesn’t apply to you though! you’re forever stuck with this non-perilla leaf sharer.” he muses happily. “now come on! i’ll teach you how to play, lovie.”

“okay.” you lift your head back up with a smile peeking through the corners of your lips, leaving the perilla leaf situation up for someone else to debate on.

[samgirl98]

Mending a Family 38/?

Prev | Next

Jason’s guilt grew as he entered his newly restored Mustang.

He had finished fixing her up that day and had been excited to take his little family around the village.

And he had. He had put Danny in a booster seat and Ellie in a car seat and taken a drive with Jazz in the passenger seat. They made it a family day, ate out, sang out of tune with whatever song came on the radio, and had a good time.

Then, they got home, Danny fell asleep, and Jason started feeling down.

He had no idea why he had bouts of depression, but they were starting to become annoying. Well, they would be if he had the space to feel annoyed.

Jason rubbed his chest. It hurt as if someone was squeezing his heart.

Jason turned on the car and felt the soft purr. He stayed in the car, not daring to move. Why couldn’t he feel happy all the time? Why was he thinking about his old family so much? Every time he felt miserable about his old family, he felt guilty. It felt as if he was betraying his current family.

Jason was so lost in his negative thoughts he didn’t notice Jazz until she entered the passenger side.

“Jazz, what are you doing here? Are the kids alone?”

Jason was about to leave the car when Jazz pulled out a baby monitor.

“I got it covered,” she said, “Besides, nobody can come through our haunt without us knowing.”

Jason said nothing.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” came his automatic response. Jazz raised an eyebrow.

“Uh-huh. Sure, I believe that, big brother.”

Silence reigned for a while. The chirping of the crickets was the only thing that could be heard.

“Am I a bad person for missing them so much? I love you guys, and you are the best things that have ever happened to me, but when I’m alone with my thoughts and emotions, I can’t help—I miss them but feel like I’m betraying what we have. What we found.”

Jason let his head fall on the steering wheel. The ache in his chest grew. He wanted his family to be whole again. Jason could picture it in his mind’s eye. Danny surrounded by the Waynes. Danny being spoiled by his aunts and uncles. By the Ancients, he wanted that. He wanted Danny to have cousins, aunts, and uncles.

Jason wanted his older jackass of a brother. He wanted his grandfather…He wanted his dad.

He wanted his family whole. No, his family was whole already.

What was he thinking? What was wrong with him? Why wasn’t he satisfied with the family he had?

“We have a theory,” Jazz said, putting her hand on Jason’s head and giving soft scratches. It felt nice. “Danny and I think your obsession is family. Until you can have every last person you consider family surrounding you, well, you won’t feel complete.”

Jason snorted. It made sense, but Ancients, did his obsession have to be something he couldn’t have?

“So basically, my obsession is unreachable. They’ll never take me back. And if I do return, they’ll try to take Danny away from me. They’ll consider me unstable, too much of a monster to raise a child.”

Jazz said nothing. Jason raised his head and stared at the woman who had become his younger sister. Someone Jason could trust.

“I miss mom and dad sometimes, too,” Jazz whispered, “not for the people they turned out to be, but for who they once were.”

Jazz smiled bittersweetly and turned toward Jason, “Do you think me a bad person for missing them?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” was his automatic response.

“Then why don’t you give yourself that same leeway? My parents have done horrible things; they tried to kill Danny! Yet, I still miss them. Family is complicated, Jason. Emotions are even more so. Don’t blame yourself for what you’re feeling, and don’t feel like you’re betraying us because you want what you used to have. We understand.”

“You’re all too good for me.”

Jazz slapped the back of his head. Jason yelped out in surprise.

“And stop thinking you don’t deserve to be happy. You have a family, even if it’s incomplete.”

“No, you guys are enough,” Jason refuted.

Jazz smiled sadly and kissed his cheek.

“I’m going inside. Remember, don’t feel bad for your emotions, Jason. If I’m allowed to miss my old family, so are you.”

Jason said nothing. He watched Jazz enter the house, lost in his thoughts.

How nice it would be to integrate his old family with his new one, but if he tried, he would lose what he had built.

“Suck it up, Todd; you have a great family now. Forget about your old one.”

Jason turned off the car, phased through it, and returned to the house. The ache in his chest still throbbed.

Suddenly, a chill ran down his spine. He looked out into the darkness and felt watched. There was no one there. Jason gave one more uneasy look into the forest and went inside.

____

Tim couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Holy shit,” he whispered.

Tim had a facial recognition program running 24/7. After a few weeks of the program running, he had a match.

La Petite Académie would like to thank Peter “Jay” Nightingale for his generous donation to the school. Two benches will be built in his honor.

Tim observed the picture. Jason had dyed his head red and glared at the camera as his picture was taken. He held a plaque with the school’s name, address, and Jason’s alias.

He broke into the school’s files and read about Daniel Nightingale. He had the highest marks in his class and was considered exceptionally smart. Jason had donated fifteen thousand dollars to the school and seemed to be an active participant in school activities. Jazz Nightingale was put in as an emergency contact, and he found phone numbers. Most important, though, was the address listed on the record.

Tim had a lead. His next stop would be Tadoussac, Canada.

I'm so sorry if this wasn't up to my usual standard. I needed to move the plot along. On the plus side, I know how I want the story to go and end. On the downside, I see an end, which means my time with this fic is coming to a close.

Anyway, I hope you liked

@itsberrydreemurstuff @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @skulld3mort-1fan @theauthorandtheartist @emergentpanda-blog @jaggedheart11 @fisticuffsatapplebees @booberrylizard @fantasticbluebirdfan @thegatorsgooseoose @cyrwrites @kjoboo91 @crystallicedart @amaramizuki666 @spekulatiusmuffin @meira-3919 @kilasmess @bubblemixer @lexdamo @wonderland-daisy @mj-arts-n-stuff @amyheart19 @dolfay @the-church-grimm @undead-essence @aph-mable @lizisipancardo @purrloin77 @writer-extraodinaire @charlietheepic7 @sinfulloccultist @nootherusernameworked @coruscateselene @chaoticchange @itsberrydreemurstuff @gmkelz11 @feral-bunny31 @paroovian @thatonegaybitch68 @d4ydr34min9 @overtherose @fandomwandererer @vipower001 @thordottir45 @blackrabbitt3t @rosecinnamonbun @bianca-hooks123 @epilepticnerd @dat1angel @consouling @flamingenchiladadragon @all-mights-asscheeks @ender-reader @fuyu-bitch @ravenswife

[darkworkcourier]

i have a request: after realizing the reader has a crush on him ghost teases her, at first just by gazes, later by words and touched and eventually makes her come by rubbing her trough her panties

so i'm working on a follow-up to this fic where ladybird gets railed in a hotel (like she deserves), but this prompt inspired me to get her into the mile high club. this is shorter than what i'm used to writing, but i hope you like it! :D

contains: through-the-panties fingering, quickies in the bathroom discussion of public sex, and price being way too into nature documentaries.

---

The 141 is flying coach, and—in a word—it sucks.

There's a reason, like always. You're all assigned to carefully monitor a red-eye flight from Boston Logan Airport to London Gatwick on trusted intelligence regarding a potentially dangerous agent onboard. You've read the file (now six going on seven times, nearly beating out how many times you've read the in-flight magazine and the safety card), knowing that this agent—known informally and hilariously as Red Sox—is Kastovian. She's posed as a Bostonian businesswoman for months now, and your instructions are to confirm her role in a recent cybersecurity incident at an international bank. With any luck, you'll get the evidence and have her arrested the moment she gets off the plane.

Until then, you're stuck in the middle seat of the middle aisle in a 787, fighting with a granola bar that refuses to open, half-watching whatever godawful action movie Soap's entertained by on his in-flight screen. He's enjoying himself, though, feeding himself a package of peanuts with the gusto of a man eating caviar.

At least someone's having fun.

Gaz and Price are four rows ahead of you, and Gaz has the luck to have a window seat. You've walked by them twice as you've gone to the lavatory out of sheer boredom. It's all sunshine, roses, Netflix, and podcasts up there, apparently. Sure, they have eyes on Red Sox, but apparently it's much more important for Price to finish his nature documentary ("Jesus Christ, have you seen how much a whale shits? Nature's incredible!") before you all do your jobs.

Ghost is the luckiest, you think. He's in business class, with leg room and hot towels and a seat that isn't actively trying to fold him up like he's in a mousetrap. He's also closest to Red Sox, quietly muttering through the comms whenever she gets up or gets something from one of the flight attendants. He sounds bored as hell, though.

"She's getting a— bloody fucking hell, who gets decaf coffee on a red eye?" Ghost grumbles through your headset. His voice is low, sending tingles through your body and making you wish he was next to you instead of Soap—currently guffawing in every sense of the word at something in his stupid movie.

You hear Gaz snort. "Who gets decaf, period? Gross."

There's a brief pause before you hear Price's awestruck voice. "Did you fucking know that killer whales can chomp a penguin in half? What the actual fuck? Why do we keep these little bastards in zoos?"

"The penguins or the orcas?" Gaz asks, even though he's sitting right next to Price and probably looking at his phone screen. Then, he confirms he is when he utters a disgusted, "Oh, nasty. Why are they showin' that on a documentary?"

At the same time, Soap slaps his knee like a grandpa, nudging you in the ribs with his elbow before snickering and gesturing to his screen where a man is yelling at... you think it's a goat. No way to know what that has to do with exploding cars or paragliding.

You lean back in your seat and groan, rubbing your eyes. "Ghost, please tell me you're having a semi-productive night," you say.

"If by 'productive', you mean carefully analyzing dinner choices and how many copies of 'Tatler' this woman brought with her, then sure," he responds dryly.

"Beef or chicken?"

"Fish," he says.

"Oh, she's definitely a spy," Gaz says. "Decaf and fish. There's something wrong with her."

That's the sum total of your work so far. You briefly glance at the time on the screen in front of you—you still have four and a half hours.

For lack of anything better to do, and abandoning your fight against the granola bar, you turn your focus back to the main object of your thoughts for the past few months. It's not easy to think of Ghost while you're crammed in a tiny seat and sandwiched in between Soap and a snoring British businessman, but you let your mind wander a little bit in Ghost's direction.

Since your crush came to light, he's opened up to you, allowing you to get close enough until you felt tidally locked to him. He's shown you Simon Riley, Manchester born and bred, with a love of bourbon, vinyls, and old camping equipment that he collects the same way people gather stamps or glassware. He's revealed all sorts of quirks and tells, drawing you in further, yet keeping just enough distance for the sake of professionalism.

But for days before this flight, Ghost's teased you relentlessly, in ways you never expected from him—glancing touches on your shoulders and back as he passes you in the hallway, pressing his thigh against yours when you do manage to sit next to him at a meeting, fingers brushing against yours when you pass something to him or vice versa. And he knows what he's doing, because Ghost never moves without intent. Every stray touch lights up your nerves like fairy lights, and he is completely aware of it.

Touches like that might not seem relentless, but in the gap between them are his words—again, carefully chosen. The man's got a way with double meanings and innuendos, all woven into his normal speech so well that no one seems to notice. He'll lock into eye contact with you, then say things to Price, Gaz, or Soap about erecting defenses or pointing the finger of suspicion. Bastard knows exactly what he's about. He knows it's been driving you crazy for weeks.

Those thoughts start to get something stirring in you, which is frankly a terrible thing to have happen on an airplane. Apparently, all your bad thoughts are mile-high ones, and before you start rubbing your legs together like a cricket for Soap to notice, you excuse yourself to the lavatory again.

Squeezing by Soap and his godforsaken tendency to manspread, you catch him grinning at you as he takes one of his AirPods out. "Goin' somewhere exciting, Ladybird?" he asks.

"Yeah," you say, gesturing to one of the emergency doors. "Thought I'd test one of those slides out."

"Oooh, fun," Soap says, all cheeky. His brows go up, and you feel what he's going to say before he says it. "Thought you'd be payin' a visit to a businessman up front. He seems lonely up there."

God, you wish.

You stand in the aisle beside Soap for a second, willing your legs to wake up and ignoring the wash of pins and needles through your skin. "Nah, I think he likes being by himself," you say. "Obviously he's not chomping at the bit to watch nature documentaries or visit with us."

"No," Soap agrees, tucking a hand behind his head and grinning up at you. "But I dinnae think he'd say no to you visiting him." At that, he wiggles his brows suggestively, then breaks into a wide smile that has you rolling your eyes.

"Yeah, no, I'm leaving now," you tell him, turning on heel to limp your way to the lavatory on a very wobbly-feeling right leg. You can hear Soap laughing at your back, and you think you hear the words 'mile high club'—better to ignore it.

The lavatory's full when you get there, so you lean against the wall and wait, arms crossed over your chest, fighting back a yawn. The plane wiggles with a little turbulence. Someone coughs nearby. Someone else turns off their overhead light.

Then the lavatory door opens and— yeah, that's Ghost looking down at you.

He's dressed in a disarmingly casual way. He's ditched the balaclava in favor of a black disposable mask and a beanie pulled down low. You're both pleased and distressed that you recognize his hoodie (one that you've stolen before to dart between his room and yours and briefly considered stealing for good), although the jeans are new.

In turn, he looks over you, a faint flicker of something in his eyes that makes a familiar, raw heat already start to form in your gut.

"Ladybird," he says with a nod.

"Ghost," you reply.

It feels like an old cowboy movie standoff, except there's less than a foot of room in between the two of you. Someone has to move—preferably him, because you kind of do need to use the lavatory now. There's a stretch of tension, of an invisible band being pulled before—

Ghost suddenly looks left, then right, and then his hand is on your wrist, tugging you back into the lavatory and closing the door behind you before you can even comprehend what's happened. As soon as the lock clicks into place, the overhead light blinks on, filling the tiny, tiny space with watery white light.

It smells like Clorox wipes and diapers, which is not conducive to anything sexy until Ghost is practically pressed up against you, an arm wrapped around your waist. In another too-quick movement, his mask is pulled down beneath his chin, and then his lips are on yours.

The kiss is hungry. His tongue finds yours immediately, and in between deep kisses, he catches your bottom lip between his teeth. It's ravenous—starving. His free hand goes up to your jaw, cupping your cheek, thumb brushing under your eye.

He kisses you like you haven't seen or touched each other in months. Like he's not the one keeping a perfectly professional distance, maintaining the hierarchy of command while torturing you with words and touches. Suddenly, the hand on your waist moves and goes up under your t-shirt, up and up over your stomach to your bra, fingers brushing over one rapidly-stiffening nipple while you moan quietly against his mouth.

For fuck's sake, Soap was right about the mile high club. You wouldn't be surprised if he texted Ghost the suggestion.

Ghost tilts his head back enough to talk, although you feel every syllable against your lips. "Wanna touch you," he mutters, half-lidded eyes flickering up to meet yours.

"Do it," you whisper back. The urgency is there, knowing you only have a short amount of time and the smallest bit of elbow room to work with.

The hand on your breast descends quickly, and with it, your body feels like it goes into an uncontrolled downward spin, dizzy with the thought of what you're doing. Ghost's hand slips under the band of your—

"Pajama pants? Really?"

You glare up at him, although all the heat is redirected southward. "They're comfy, and it's a long flight," you retort.

He breathes out a laugh that fans over your cheek before he kisses you again, just as his fingers go down and rub against your cunt through the thin cotton of your panties. It makes you gasp against him, even at a slight, barely-there touch. But his touch transmutes into something stronger and more insistent, rubbing your slit, the fabric helping to build friction.

"Oh, fuck," you whisper, staggering a little and leaning on his shoulder for support. You feel him press a finger against your clit, setting off a charge that darts lightning-quick up your spine. One of your hands claps over your mouth to stifle a moan.

Ghost laughs, a low rumble that seems to vibrate right through you, matching frequencies with the electricity currently pulsing through your whole damn nervous system.

"Been wantin' to do this all week," he mutters into your ear as his index finger slides over your clit.

Your voice fights to catch a foothold in your throat, hoisting itself up into your mouth in a strain. "I-in an airplane lavatory?" you manage, although the joke is lost on another moan that you have to hide in the fabric of his hoodie.

He hums this time, and it's almost thoughtful. "Sure," he says. His fingers slide back, pressing the soaked fabric of your panties against your opening in the most teasing way. You're tempted to just pull everything down and let him take you over the tiny stainless steel sink. But he goes on, "Back at base. Kitchen, office, common area. Don't really care."

Holy fuck, the idea of Ghost taking you in any of those places sends another little shock through your system and turns that inner coil tighter. You shudder, gasping as he rubs his fingers back and forth. You cling onto him, fingers in a vise grip on his hoodie, face tucked against his shoulder as he draws your climax up to the surface quicker than you've ever felt it rise.

"Wait until we get to London," he says, his voice low and hot in your ear. "I know at least five places where I can fuck you in view of a whole damn street an' no one will know we're there."

That promise alone and all the mental images it conjures are enough to send you right over the edge, burying your cry in fleece and shuddering against his hand as you rock your hips against him. You hear him whispering encouragements to you, to use him to get off, to come for him. You do, using all that friction and that sense of taboo of what you're doing now as a springboard for your pleasure. It's not the hardest you've come (and Ghost certainly has the honor of achieving that), but it's the fastest—almost embarrassingly quick. You hit the heights, the upper ceiling of your personal atmosphere, and try to catch your breath as you fall back into an oxygen-rich level.

Ghost draws his hand back while you lean on him for support as your legs threaten to give out entirely. You hear and feel him laugh again, and then he's pressing a rolled-up piece of toilet paper into your hand.

"Kind of soaked there, love," he says, and it's all fondness—maybe a little bit of pride.

"Who's fault is that?" you say, your voice hoarse and tired. Still, you make use of the paper, reaching in to wipe up at least some of the dampness. And—well, fuck, you're going to have to sit with that for another four hours. Gross.

Ghost presses a kiss to your temple, and you lean into it instinctively.

"I'll make it up to you in London," he promises.

You have a better idea.

---

You squeeze past Soap again, inwardly groaning as you sit down and feel dampness between your legs. It's three hours and forty-eight minutes until Gatwick. Three hours and forty-eight minutes of sitting in wet panties while trying to apprehend a criminal on a 787. Nevermind that your orgasm sent enough endorphins through your system to maybe get a good nap in.

Then, beside you, Soap laughs. You feel a tug on your sleeve, and look over to see him grinning at you.

"Nice hoodie," he says. "Is it new?"

You smile and nestle yourself into the fabric, still warm from Ghost's skin. "Sort of," you reply.

[warmaidensrevenge]

Love and pinball

Pairing: Eddie x Plus!size fem reader

A/N: Oh man it's been a long while. I've been taking a long needed break. But now I'm back and I have a bunch of ideas that need to be written. So I'm looking forward to what's next. I would also like to add that I had help from @salenorona23 to write this fic. I would liked to thank you. You honestly come up with the best ideas.

Thanks for sticking around. I appreciate all of you. I hope you enjoy the conclusion of Love and Pinball.

The song I added was an inspiration to me. Kay love ya. Byyyye.

Word count: 3,199

I do not give permission for my work to be published anywhere else. Please respect all creators. All the pictures I used for my collage were taken from a Google search. A credit to the original posters

Warnings: 18+ no minors please. Sexual implications, loss, grief, heartache and angst. Not proof read.

Part 8: Together

Summary: Grief will rip us apart. But love, real love can help us back to each other.

You stirred a little and placed a hand on your stomach. There was something wrong. You felt empty.

You weakly called out for Eddie. " B-baby?"

Your eyes opened slowly and the sun was blinding. You looked around and saw Paul and your mom. Then you saw Eddie who was sitting next to the bed, holding your hand. He had never looked so bad.

It was quiet. The silence and the single heart beat on the monitor was ominous. You remembered a little of what happened when you got to the hospital. But you were in and out of it.

"Is-ugh-is the baby okay?" You asked, trying to sit up.

Eddie and Paul stood quiet as your mom came to your side and started stroking your hair.

" Honey…I'm so sorry."

-

You cried for four days straight, with your mom never leaving your side. Even though you knew Eddie had to be with Liam. It hurt so much more to go through the loss of the baby without him.

Those four days were the worst in Eddie's life. When he was away he wished he was with you. And when he was with you all he did was hold you as you sobbed.

He felt like he was the reason you guys were suffering.

On the fifth day, you were going to be discharged from the hospital. Eddie had left work early to be the one to take you home. However, when he got there you were already gone.

Confused and worried he went home. Only to find suitcases by the door.

" Sweetheart?" He called out.

He found you in the nursery clutching the baby blanket from the hospital.

" Sweetheart?"

When you looked at him, he had never seen so much pain in someone's eyes.

You were dreading this moment ever since you decided to run. The only thing that kept you from taking off without a single care was the respect you had for Eddie. He deserved more than him coming home to see you were gone. He needed to know that you would be okay.

You looked back at the empty crib and felt such heartache. To the means of something you could not put into words.

" My mom went to say goodbye to Paul and Natalie. She's going to be back soon."

Eddie remained quiet and watched you. Waiting for the other shoe to drop.

" I-I'm gonna go back with her."

His heart sank.

" I need some time…"

You didn't need to finish for him to understand what you needed. And though it tore him apart, he wanted you to be okay.

He took a few steps towards you. "Y/n, I think it's a good idea. You should be with your mom for a few days."

You tensed under his hand that was suddenly on your back. He almost lost it. He almost broke down. But he couldn't. So he didn't.

What he did instead was help put your bags in the trunk and helped you with your seatbelt.

Not once did you look at him. You barely said anything at all.

" Sweetheart, I'll be here when you get back."

Your head was hung while you nodded.

Eddie's heart shattered all over again watching the car fade into the distance.

Maybe this was for the best. Maybe it wasn't what was best for him. But it was what you needed. Right now all you needed was family.

…

3 weeks later

You always did hate how hot New Mexico was. You hated the bugs and the disgusting dry heat. But all of those things didn't bother you anymore. Those inconveniences were nothing compared to the suffering you felt.

It had been three long weeks since the loss of your baby girl and you couldn't find it in you to get out of bed. Or to really talk things out with Eddie.

Sure he called countless times, asking when you were gonna come home. But the answer was always the same. You didn't know.

That wasn't true though. You were never going back. How could you? How could you go on and pretend that baby Claire never existed? How could you face the man you loved knowing it was your fault she didn't make it? That the family you wanted was gone.

Chrissy gave him something you couldn't. A baby. And you hated her for that. You hated that she had a healthy beautiful baby boy, while you were left with this empty feeling.

That wasn't the person you wanted to be. And it was definitely not something you wanted Eddie to see.

It took everything you had to breathe. To wake up and not blame yourself.

But the agony you felt wouldn't go away no matter how hard you tried. And no matter how many tears flowed, there was always more.

It especially hurt when Eddie would call and you could hear Liam crying. It was excruciating to hear cries that weren't hers.

Deep down you wanted to be with Eddie. And you really did love Liam. But you just couldn't do it. It was too hard.

On the fourth week you were woken up by a tiny human.

" Tee? Wake up Tee."

You opened your eyes and found big blue ones looking back at you.

"Morning Tee."

You smiled as she climbed into bed and gave you a big hug.

" Hi baby. Oh I've missed you."

Natalie giggled when you gave her a bunch of kisses.

" Hey champ."

You looked up from Natalie and saw Paul standing by the door.

Your eyes started to swell and your chin trembled." H-hi."

After hello hugs you went to the kitchen and sat there watching Natalie eat.

" What're you guys doing here?"

Your mom poured you and Paul coffee and put a hand on your shoulder.

" Honey, your brother is leaving Natalie here for a while."

You looked over at Paul and he nodded. " I uhhh Natalie needs you…and I think you need her too."

You frowned and tears filled your eyes again. Then you nodded and sniffled. " I do."

You wiped away your tears and lightly laughed. " I'm sorry."

" Tee don't be sad."

You smiled softly at her. "I'm just really happy to see you."

She giggled and got down from her chair and raised her arms up for you to pick her up. Once on your lap she started humming.

" Tee, can we make cookies?"

You kissed the top of her little head. " Of course baby."

You looked up at Paul and your mom and saw them giving you small smiles.

For the first time in a month, you felt ok…Better.

-

Eddie was going through it. Sure he still had Liam, but he lost a daughter too. And he started resenting you for leaving him. Especially since you were only supposed to be gone for a little bit.

It was now a month and a half later and you still haven't said when you were coming back.

That was until you called him.

" Hey sweetheart."

" Hi."

He sat down on the bed. " How are you?"

You sighed. " Better."

His brows pinched together. " Yeah? That's good. I uhh miss you.”

“Eddie I- ummm I left a few things and I was hoping you could send them to me?”

He was quiet for a second. Didn't you miss him too?

“ Uhh yeah. Yeah. Sure baby. What do you need?”

He wrote down the list of things and was confused. Photo albums, jewelry and your diploma. Things that were important and likely irreplaceable.

“Umm sweetheart? Do…do you really want me to send this stuff?”

You cleared your throat before answering. “ Yeah.”

He nodded and fought back his tears. Why did it feel like you weren't coming back?

" Y/n? You're coming home…right?"

He heard you sniffle and knew your answer.

" Baby, please. I-I-"

"I have to go. I'm sorry."

-

When you hung up, it was like you felt everything you felt a month ago. But ten fold. It was horrible.

You originally hoped calling him would change your mind about not going back. Instead, all it did was solidify that you could never go back and face him.

You laid in bed that night thinking of all the things that you should've said to him. You should have said you were sorry for falling that day. For losing Claire. For running away. But most of all you wanted to say you loved him very much.

All the pain you felt started making you cry. After a minute or so you felt a little bit of movement behind you. Then you felt a tiny hand stroking your hair.

You turned around and saw Natalie staring at you.

" Don't cry Tee."

You whimpered a little as you wiped your eyes.

She grabbed your hand." Everything's gonna be alright."

" I know, baby. I know."

" Then-then why are you crying?"

You sniffled. " Everyone cries baby."

Natalie frowned. " I don't like it when you cry Tee. It scares me."

Your brows pinched together and you reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear. " Why honey?"

" Because when big people cry, that means something bad happened. And I don't want bad things to happen."

You sucked in a breath and nodded. " I'm sorry. I-I won't cry anymore."

She held out her pinky. " Promise."

You let out a small laugh and hooked your pinky with hers. " I promise baby."

She leaned in and gave you a hug and a kiss before getting under the covers. Then she started humming a familiar tune until she fell asleep.

You squeezed her gently and thought of the day you guys went shopping with Eddie replayed in your head.

It was at that moment you knew what you had to do.

It was time to work on getting better. For your family. And for Eddie.

-

Eddie cried after he hung up the phone. He never felt so alone before. Or so sad. What did he need to do to get you home?

He wanted to go to you, but with Liam and work he really couldn't. On top of that he was heartbroken.

But what made things worse was that Chrissy decided to give him full custody of Liam. All she said when she dropped him off was that Jason proposed to her. So she handed him Liam and paperwork that she had a lawyer draw up.

That was a week ago.

Thank God for his friends. He didn't know what he would do without Gareth or Robin. They were his saving grace. But the only person he really wanted was you. Looks like he wasn't going to get that happy ending he always wanted.

-

Two weeks later

It was a stormy Saturday afternoon. Eddie had just put Liam down for a nap. He had been so fussy today. He had this little cough that scared him. So after a doctor's visit he gave him some medicine and put him to bed.

Eddie went outside to sit on the porch and look at the paper. He was searching for an affordable place that he and Liam could move into. He felt that it wasn't right to stay in your place without you.

However, the only place he could afford was in Forest Hills and he wanted better for Liam. But there was no other choice.

He closed his eyes and sighed. “ Wish you would come home.”

He then heard a car door close. When he looked up he saw you standing there. Umbrella in one hand and a suitcase in the other.

When the cab drove off you started towards him.

He was in shock. With no clue what to actually say or do, he just sat there.

You reached the steps and stared at him. All you could think about was how much you've missed him.

“I…I know there's nothing I can say to take back what happened and how I reacted to it. Just know that I am so sorry for leaving you.” You moistened your lips and continued. “ I should've known that losing our girl was going to hurt you too. I was selfish and a jerk… and I get it if you can't forgive me. I just came back to apologize and to say if you need me, I'll be here... And I need you to know that I'm not 100% right now. And...and I don't think I ever will be. But I'm willing to try and be. For you and Liam...For me too.

He stood up and dropped the newspaper. Just then the slight drizzle turned into a downpour. He went down the steps and pulled you into a hug. Your body trembled in his arms as tears filled his eyes.

“ I missed you so much baby.” he leaned back and kissed you.

After a few seconds you guys heard Liam cough.

He looked down at you and put his forehead on yours. “ I know what you're gonna say. But I don't care. I like how much of a cliche we are together…That's how I know it's real.”

You nodded. “ I guess you're right…Curls?”

“ Yeah sweetheart?”

“ I'm not leaving again. Not ever. Well not willfully.”

He chuckled and went to kiss you again but you put a hand on his chest.

“ Common bud, I wanna see Liam.”

He nodded and grabbed your luggage. Following you inside.

-

You never ran. Not when Chrissy came back crying that Jason left her and then tried to take Liam. Not when he was let go from the plant. Even when things got overwhelming when Hannah and Layla were born. When postpartum hit you like a truck. You didn't leave.

Even when things got better and the band got a record deal and he spent more time on the road than at home. You stayed and supported him. You said and did all the things a partner should. You challenged him to be better and you were honest with him. You did so much for him and the family. You took care of the house and the kids, even though you needed help. You didn't leave when he missed so many birthdays, little league games and ballet recitals.

Because you loved him and he loved you. No matter how hard or easy things were. You both showed up for each other. No matter what, you had each other's back.

-

Eddie hadn't been home in a few months and you never missed him more. Maybe it was because the kids were asking when he was coming back. Or maybe it was because your anniversary was coming up and you needed your anniversary kisses. Either way he was way overdue for a cuddle session.

All day you tried to focus on the daycare. And for the most part you kept it together. That was until you were about to leave for the day.

He was there. Leaning against his red BMW with his legs crossed at the ankles and hands in the pockets of his leather jacket.

You could cry right now. But instead you melted seeing him smile at you.

“ Hey Mrs. Munson. Beautiful weather we're having.”

You shook your head and went to him. Giving him hugs and all the kisses you've been saving just for him.

“ Mmmmm sweetheart. Let me get you home first.”

He led you to the passenger side and opened the door. As soon as you slid in, you climbed down from cloud nine. You opened your mouth to say something when he closed the door and held up his hand.

“ Don't worry, your car will be safe here and the kids are at Paul's. It's just you and me tonight.”

-

You didn't make it past the living room. You were on each other as soon as the front door closed.

Eddie sighed with satisfaction. “ God I've missed you.”

“ Better have.”

He chuckled and placed a wet kiss on your cheek. “ I always miss you when I'm gone. You and the kids.”

You swallow and nod. “ So how long do we get you for?”

He hummed and pulled you to lay in his arms. “ I'm not sure. 1 or 2, maybe 3 years.”

You lifted your head and gave him a surprise look.

He grinned at you. “ The band decided we needed a break. To get back to our roots and be with our families. So we all agreed that a long vacation would do us good. Obviously, we can't just disappear for 3 years.”

“ Right.”

He reached up and tucked your hair behind your shoulder. “ Yeah. So we set it up to only do local shows a few times a month and do 9 big venues in the surrounding states. But only in the summer so I can bring you guys with me.”

You were speechless. You've been wanting to hear those words from him for a long time now. It was the best thing he had ever said to you.

You smiled softly.“The kids would love that.”

“ What about you?”

You laid your head back on his chest. “ Well I don't know. I guess I can take it or leave it.”

He gasped. “ I beg your pardon!” He then started to tickle your sides and made his way on top of you.

“ Ahhh curls! Okay okay!”

He stopped and grinned down at you.

You smiled back at him. “ I would love nothing more than for all of us to be together. I love that you're home…I miss you bud. So much.”

He nodded slightly before leaning for a kiss.

“ Mmm sooo speaking of all of us…I was thinking maybe we could work on baby 4 and 5.”

You clicked your tongue. “ Hmmm that sounds fun. Maybe pinball after?”

He chuckled lightly. “ Love then pinball?”

“ Or.” You raised a brow. “ Love and pinball?”

“ Oh you're naughty baby.”

You both grinned at each other for a moment before he got up.

“ I'll get us snacks and juice boxes.”

You laughed as he helped you up. “ I'll be down stairs beating your score.”

He smacked your bottom. “ We'll see about that “

-

As you stood in front of the thing that started it all you couldn't help but feel joy. The very same Grand Prix game you guys played all those years ago was now yours. Well it has been since Eddie gifted it to you as a wedding present.

You sighed happily as you took the quarter from the return slot and popped it in. The lights and music were the exact same as always.

You pulled back the spring handle and the ball was off. Whirls and dings were all too exciting. It was perfect. And in a few minutes you were almost to the high score. But then there were hands on your hips pulling you back so that you were flushed against his chest.

“ No distract-” you tried to say but cut off as you watched as the silver ball fell right between your paddles. Then you heard a slight chuckle.

“ Sorry sweetheart. You lost.”

Sighing in defeat, you turned around in his arms and wrapped yours around his neck. “ No bud. I think I won.”

Eddie looked back and forth between your eyes and understood what you meant.

He put his forehead on yours. “ We won.”

...

@marsmunson86 @browneyes528 @erinsingalong @salenorona23 @emsgoodthinkin @eddie-is-a-god @manda-panda-monium

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Can we see arranged!verse meeting batman for the first time?

There was one thing about being married you rather enjoyed. And that was being able to go where you wanted without a chaperone... presumably so long as you didn't abuse it.

Bruce didn't seem to care if you stayed at home at night or not. He really didn't even seem to notice you at all unless there was someone else in the room... You supposed it was better than being monitored constantly. But that didn't mean you weren't lonely.

At least at home. Being out was better. Even if the rain wouldn't stop and the constant drizzle played havoc with your hair. There was some comfort in the noise. In everyone knowing your name... wanting to talk to you. To know you. Girls- women now that had mocked you and been mean to you in school wanted to be your friend. Wanted to be invited to your parties. It was incredible- and overwhelming.

So for a moment, you escaped to the rooftop. Taking a moment to light a cigarette and just watch the city. Cars like ants trail over the streets, following each other to destinations unknown.

You exhale a cloud of smoke and sigh. You should go home. You have an interview to give and you need to write a few letters- but. God it's like rattling around in a tomb.

"Those things will kill you-"

The deep gravelly voice makes you jump and you wheel around, alarmed- and then relieved when it's the Batman instead of a reporter.

"Maybe," you acknowledge, putting it out anyway. "Gonna snitch me out?"

"Not if you tell me what I want to know," he said keeping his distance. You weren't a suspect. So far as he could tell you didn't do anything wrong. But- every crime boss in the city knew you. And had dealings with your father... For now, you might be the safest woman in Gotham. They had a vested interest in keeping you alive. Assuming that your father was working with Bruce Wayne.

"It depends on what you need to know," you tell him honestly. "My father is... old school. Wives and daughters are meant to be seen and not heard-"

"But you have eyes and ears," he snapped, stepping forward. You had to know something.

"I might," you sigh, taking a shaking breath. "But I doubt it. Father is good at keeping us in the dark."

"What do they want with Bruce Wayne?"

"I don't know. I only know they want- well. I'm disappointing them."

"Why?" he growled. Annoyed. Wondering why you weren't afraid of him.

"Because he doesn't- I mean. He doesn't really... want me."

Bruce stepped forward. Making sure he was towering over you, "Why do you think that is?" Bruce challenged, gratified when you rocked back to put some space between you. Weak. You'd been wrapped in cotton wool your whole life. It would be easy to get you to break.

"I don't know," you say softly, wrapping your arms around yourself. "All I know is that if I can't get him to... soon. Well. My father is going to take matters into his own hands and... I don't want to. I can't- I don't know how to- I." You stop, biting your lip and looking away. Feeling stupid. But when a gloved hand tilted your chin up to make you look at him, you shiver. And you don't know if you're afraid or something else.

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : yandere!Kim Hongjoong x F!Reader TW : violence ; blood ; kidnapping ; screaming ; manipulation ; Word Count : 3.5k

Hongjoong was your best friend, he had been that since you were young. As far back as you could remember, Hongjoong had been in your life, he was kind of like a staple in your day to day lifestyle, whether it be hanging out, going to the grocery store together, even just talking on the phone. No matter what, Hongjoong was there, and you knew that he’d always be there. You loved that, knowing that you had someone so constant in your life, someone that would never leave your side, someone that understood you better than you understood yourself sometimes. Maybe that’s why things had gotten so messy, you took everything he did as friendship, you never saw the red flags, you refused to, and that was the biggest problem, that’s where everything went wrong. 

“It’s Saturday, you know what that means!” Hongjoong excitedly announced over the phone, the device held between his ear and his shoulder as he pulled on his shoes, already in the process of leaving his own house to go to yours. When you didn’t respond, he just assumed that you had set the phone down to get your own shoes on, you’d pick back up soon enough and let him know that you were ready to go. 

“I actually already went grocery shopping today with Seonghwa. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I just got so busy and it slipped my mind. We can go together next week though!” Your voice sounded too peppy, fake even, as if you were trying to keep up some kind of act in front of someone… Was someone there with you? “I have to go now, I’ll call you when I get home. Love you, Hongi.” You chimed at the end before ending the call. 

He was baffled, confused, but more than anything, he was furious. How could you do this to him? Saturdays were his days to spend with you, and you just… Leave him behind to spend the day with some new guy? Who the hell was this Seonghwa guy anyway? The only thing he had ever heard about the guy was that he was a new neighbor that moved into the apartment building. You didn’t know the guy though… How could you just carelessly let this new man around you? He could be dangerous, he could hurt you… He could steal you away… 

Hongjoong couldn’t let that happen. He just couldn’t, he loved you too much. All he wanted to do was protect you and keep you safe, that’s why he was always with you, why he always spent time with you. It was to make sure that you were always kept out of danger. You were so naive sometimes, too trusting, he had to be sure that no one would ever take advantage of that, take advantage of you. 

But how could you just… leave him like this? Did you not know how much you hurt him right now? Did you not care at all? It was so selfish of you… And he was disappointed that you didn’t even seem to care that what you did would hurt him like this. Did you really love him like you said, or did you just say it to make him go away? It didn’t matter anymore… He needed you to love him. He thought that maybe it would come naturally after being with him for so long, but he could only handle being pushed into the god forsaken friend zone for so long before he had to take matters into his own hands. You would love him, no matter what it took… He’d be sure of that. 

Stalking you wasn’t by any means something new, he just hated that it would be called that if you or anyone ever found out. He wasn’t stalking, he was simply monitoring, making sure everything was okay. He was a good friend, and he knew that he’d make a great boyfriend if you just gave him the chance. Why hadn’t you given him the chance yet? Did you not like him? Was there something wrong with him? Was there someone else in your life? Maybe it was the Seonghwa guy, the new neighbor that seemed to come from out of nowhere. Why did that guy have better chances than him? It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right. 

He sat in the car outside of your workplace, counting down the clock, just waiting for you to leave. He knew your schedule like the back of his own hand, the smile and the wave you’d give your coworkers on the way out the door before heading to the bus stop. Why would you take the bus when he had a perfectly good car that could drive you home? You always said it was because you didn’t want to bother him or inconvenience him… As if that would ever be the case. 

Eyes like lasers watched as, right on the minute, you emerged from the glass doors, the almost ritualistic wave as your body was right on the threshold before coming out completely. One quick maneuver had him cruising down the street, stopping at the bus stop just as you got to it. “Hongi?!” You said his name excitedly, running over to the passenger side door and leaning in when he rolled down the window. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be working?” 

His heart was hammering with anticipation as he smiled at you, quickly unlocking the door so you could climb in, and you did, you did with no hesitation, buckling the seatbelt around you. “I had the day off and I was in the area, doing some shopping, I thought I’d drop by and see you at work but I guess I got here a little too late.” It was so easy to lie to you, and you believed all of it. He had never given you a reason not to trust him, he was too kind, and maybe that’s why you didn’t like him the way he wanted you to. Maybe he was too friendly… He could surely change things up if that’s what you wanted. He’d do anything for you, he’d be anything for you. 

“Shopping without me?” You said, and even if it was teasingly, he couldn’t help but find it hypocritical that you’d say such a thing after what you had done to him. “You’ll just have to show me the haul. Maybe we can go to your place?” God, you were making it so easy for him, and he didn’t waste a second to put the car into drive and take off toward his own house. 

There wasn’t an inkling of reluctance when he thought about what he was going to do, and there was no guilt, no regret as those thoughts flooded his mind. He’d finally have you right where he wanted you, and technically, in a way, you had brought it upon yourself. It would have been so easy if you had just given yourself to him, let him love you, love him back. You were so difficult, and while he understood almost everything about you, that was one thing that he just couldn’t comprehend. Why didn’t you love him? Why didn’t you like him enough to even give him a chance? 

He pulled into the driveway, quickly pulling the keys from the ignition and handing them to you, an action that had you flashing him a questioning look. “What?” He posed, giving you a small smile, but then you looked at the keys and then back at him and he simply chuckled. “I just need you to unlock the door, I got a lot of stuff.” You eyed him even more now, suspicion glinting in your eyes, and he worried for a moment that maybe you caught on, that you found out what he was planning on doing. He wasn’t sure how you would, but you were always a lot smarter than he was, you found a way to figure out his own brain before even he could. 

“Did you get stuff for me? Is that you won’t let me help you carry in the bags?” You asked, and for a moment he was stumped. It’s not exactly that you were wrong, everything in the bags in his trunk was for you, but he didn’t think that your question would be so… innocent. Of course, you would have never been able to find out what he was truly planning, he had absolutely nothing to worry about. He was the best guy that you knew, you told him that all the time. This type of thing happening because of him, it just… It wasn’t feasible. 

He let out a chuckle, hoping that you didn’t hear the nerves in the shakiness of it as he playfully nudged your arm. “No, I just don’t want your hands to hurt. It’s groceries and you always complain when you have to carry them in.” Your mouth fell open, but you quickly shut it because you knew he wasn’t wrong, and that only made him laugh more. Oh, how easy it was to be with you, did you feel the same way? If you did… well… He just continues to fall back onto the same question. Why won’t you just be with him? 

“Fiiine.” You teasingly sulked, climbing out of the car with a slump to your shoulders, but as soon as you were standing that all too familiar pep was back in your step as you walked up to the front door. This was it, things could either go very well, or awfully wrong. Either way, he had a solution for both depending on how things turn out. Obviously he’s hoping for the best case scenario, and considering the fact that the two of you had known each other for so long, he really feels like that’s how things will go. Everything will be alright, you’ll welcome his love and even return it. Maybe all you needed was for him to make the first move… 

The bags were dangling from his fingers as he walked into the house, momentarily setting them down to lock the door behind him before grabbing them back up and going straight to you. “You wanna see some of the stuff I got?” Your eyes dropped down to the decorative little bag that was sat on the coffee table and then up to him, your eyes bright as you nodded. “Okay… Don’t laugh or anything… Promise…” You held out your pinky to him, the silent form of promises that the two of you had been making since you were children. 

Your legs were bouncing with anticipation as his hand dipped into the bag, pulling out the lace lingerie set, not even breathing as he held it out for you to see. “That’s really pretty, Hongi!” You chimed, your fingers delicately tracing along the pattern of the lace. “You didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend though! How could you hide something like that from me!? I’m your best friend!” Your bottom lip jutted out into a pout and he shook his head, holding the garment out to you. 

“It’s for you…” He whispered, and you were stunned for a second, a small giggle of awkwardness leaving your lips before you shook your head. Why were you denying him? Maybe you were just… too shy to wear something like that in front of him. “You’d look so beautiful in it, I know you would…” 

“Hongjoong…” You whispered, nervously rubbing your palms against your legs as you looked around the room, why wouldn’t you look at him? “That’s really uhm… sweet of you… but… I’m, I can’t… That… I-“ You sighed softly, nervously gnawing on your bottom lip. “Seonghwa wouldn’t be very happy about that…” 

Seonghwa… Was there something there that you hadn’t told him about yet? “What do you mean? Are you and him… Are you with him?” Hongjoong asked, his voice barely able to get above a whisper as he dropped his gaze to the floor. It had been a thought, but he never wanted to think deeper about it, he didn’t want to accept that thought. Your head slowly nodded in agreement to his question and he didn’t know how to take it. His heart was breaking but he was filled with rage, not at Seonghwa though, at you, for hurting him so much. 

His fists balled up at his sides, gripping into the fabric of the piece that he had gotten for you, the bag behind him filled with even more items that you’d most likely deny. “Hey…” You murmured, scooting closer to the edge of the couch and reaching out to grab his hand. “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you immediately… I just wanted to make sure that things were actually good between Seonghwa and I before I broke the news.” Right, because every single time you’d get with someone they’d inevitably leave you and you’d come crying to him, your personal therapist and tissue box, but never anything more. He was tired of being used by you… It was time for him to finally get something in return. 

“Wear it…” He spoke through his teeth, forcing the lingerie piece into your face practically, and you leaned back against the couch, clearly shocked by the sternness in his voice. “Wear it now… Dammit, I bought it for you and you’re gonna wear it. I waste my time, I waste my money on you, and you just choose the first guy that comes into your life and shows interest in you until they get into your pants. I’m not your emotional support animal that you can come cuddle up with when you get done being a hoe and having your heart broken.” 

You shivered under the cold glare he was giving you, your bottom lip trembling as his words tore through you, your eyes welling up with tears. He hated to see you like this, but clearly the first plan, the one that he initially thought would work hadn’t worked at all. It was time for plan B, the premeditated attack on you that he had already prepared himself for. Your tears wouldn’t have him stopping, the only thing that would make him stop would be you finally giving in and agreeing to be with him. “Is that… Really how you feel, Hongi? You think I’m a hoe? You think I’m a waste of time?” Your voice was broken, crackly and pathetic, and you looked just as sad as you sounded as the tears trickled down your cheeks. “I can just leave… If that’s what you want…” 

Of course you were trying to play sweet, innocent, acting like you hadn’t been dragging his heart through mud and shards of glass for the last 5 years. Like you haven’t made him endure as much heartbreak as you every time he felt like he would finally have you. “No…” He mumbled the word, dropping the piece into your lap and then taking a step back, only enough to give you room to get up off the couch. “You’re not leaving… Not until you wear it. I want to see you in it… The least you can do is that.” 

Your head shook violently as you pushed the piece onto the floor, taking the chance, although calculated, to stand up. “No! You’re being a real asshole right now, Hongjoong. I want to go home.” You tried to walk to the door, and for some reason, as much as it hurt to be rejected by you, this time was fun because he knew… You weren’t leaving. You weren’t going anywhere. He let you walk, he let you get close enough to the door that you felt like you had some say in what was going on, like you had some sort of power, but just before your hand could grab onto the doorknob, his arms were wrapping around you and pulling you back towards the couch. 

The little scream you let out was just as useless as your attempt to leave, his hand quickly covering your mouth before throwing you down on the couch, picking up the clothes off the floor and dropping them onto your lap once more. “I’m the asshole…” He mused, staring down at you, his head tilted like a dog's would. “For loving you… For doing everything for you… I’m the asshole.” His voice became shrill as he leaned in closer. “If you think I’m an asshole now, you haven’t seen the most of it, you haven’t seen half of it.” His blood was pumping through his veins, and it was almost scary to him how much joy he got out of seeing you so scared yet so weak in front of him. “I’m tired of you playing with me, playing with my heart, with my emotions…. It’s my turn to play with you.” 

Your head dropped, your body shrinking in on itself, yet you still had the courage to speak, to talk back to him. “Why can’t you be happy just being my friend… my best friend? Why do you need more than that?” You whispered faintly, and the question for some reason had his blood boiling. Why couldn’t you understand his emotions, his feelings? He always did his best to understand yours. 

“It’s not good enough anymore…” He said matter of factly, his fingers gripping your chin and slowly lifting your head so you’d look at him. “Why do they get to have you in every single way… And all I get is a little hug and maybe cuddled if you’re sad enough? Why do they get to break your heart and you force me to deal with the aftermath of it? Why can’t you see that I’m in love with you, I’m infatuated with you… And I’m done watching everyone else treat you like garbage. If I don’t get to have you… Neither can they. You’ll learn to love me the right way at some point.” He let you go, your head falling forward once his fingers left your chin, quiet sniffles sounding out from behind him as he walked away. “Why are you crying?” He mumbled, grabbing the bags off the floor and pulling out the contents that were inside. 

“That’s a stupid question…” Your whimpered response only had him chuckling as he continued emptying the bags. “If you loved me… You wouldn’t be doing this.” You tried to reason, but his head only shook. He was doing this because he loved you, and you still refused to understand. “W-We’re better as friends… Hongi… You know that.” Your attempt at persuasion was for nothing, he already knew that you’d try this and he had prepared himself for that, he had prepared himself for everything. 

“You think we’re better as friends…” He hissed, grabbing one of the items that he had lined up along the coffee table, quickly whipping around and pointing it in your face, the light of the room reflecting off the shiny metal blade that was mere inches from your cheek. “I’m tired of being just friends… I want more, I deserve more. I’m done being stuck in the friend zone… You’ll be mine whether you want to be or not.” 

You visibly held your breath, fear gleaming in your tear filled eyes as the edge of the blade moved closer to your cheek. “You’re crazy… out of your mind…” You tried to move away from the sharp edge of the knife, but he moved it closer, pressing the edge further against your skin until a small sting was felt along with the warm trickle of what you could only assume to be blood that moved down to your chin. “Please…” You whimpered, your face contorting into one of pain as he continued to press the knife deeper into your skin. 

“All you have to do is love me… Once you do that, everything will be okay.” He pulled the knife back just enough to drag it lightly to your hair, using the tip to tuck your hair behind your ear, reveling in the way you shuddered. So weak for him, and only for him, not that you really had a choice to be anything but weak and submissive for him, it was the only thing you could do. “Now… are you gonna put that on for me or am I gonna have to force you to wear it?” 

You took a shaky breath, your nose sniffling as you meekly nodded your head. “Fine… I’ll… I’ll wear it…” You grabbed the outfit off the floor and stood up, your legs wobbling once you got to your feet. “I hate you though… I’ll never love you… ever…” 

For some reason you got cocky once you were standing, maybe it’s because for the moment you were standing above him, but he found it cute how you thought you really had a choice in the matter, how you thought he actually cared whether you truly loved him or not. “Doesn’t matter, you’re stuck here anyway.” He was so nonchalant about it, and maybe it was because he truly didn’t have to worry anymore. Not about you being with anyone else, about you loving anyone but him. Even now, even if you didn’t love him, there would be no one else for you to love. “I can’t wait to see how beautiful you look, angel. Get done quickly, I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time.” 

[liliaeth]

@bestialitybestiary Going to respond to your reply here instead of in reply to your post. Because it honestly had me baffled if you were actually paying attention or not.

@liliaeth I mean you're right, Scott was called out sometimes. But it somehow didn't feel as if he cared that much. It was sometimes said. Idk I feel like I have to reach for context every time I want to understand his emotions in the scene, because it's not clear. Idk if it's because of acting or directing. What I try to say is that because of those little things Scott may be perceived as ignorant or dumb, and it's a shame. I know he isn't. And I wish they portrayed his character with more care. I guess because of how they wrote/acted the character it was easy to see him as a bad friend, if someone wanted to see him that way. And it's a shame I wrote this post because I was wondering why Scott has such a bad rep in fandom. I love the guy

My main issue is this, of all the characters on the show, there were three characters who were called out on their mistakes the most.

There was Scott, there was Lydia and there was Derek. Which makes it no wonder that on the entire show, these three characters had the most character growth and development of any and all characters on the show.

Compare that to characters like say Stiles who was essentially static for six seasons, and had little to no character growth, because the show didn't dare to ever hold him accountable. Never made him feel remorse for how terribly he treated everyone around, him, and especially how badly Stiles treated the people he cared about, like Scott, like his father, like Lydia, like Malia...

(In fact the only time we see Stiles display any guilt over anything, it's to do with either the Nogitsune or Donovan, both of them cases where Stiles blames himself for things that are categorically not his fault. But when it comes to things that actually are Stiles' fault... things he actually did to personally wrong, it just gets ignored, and we see no reaction to it from Stiles, or any kind of him taking responsibility for it.)

But because Scott 'was' called out, and Stiles 'was not', people fell in the false notion that what Scott did was wrong, while Stiles behavior was 'just funny', or perfectly fine. Even though in most cases it was actually the opposite.

It's why people most often don't realize just how bad a friend Stiles was throughout most of the show.

See, you wrote that you felt Scott didn't care that much... and my instant reaction was 'did you miss the fact that he literally tried to kill himself out of guilt on three separate occasions?

In Frayed he is literally refusing to let himself heal, because he feels responsible over what happened to Derek.

And this is added on in Motel California, where he's already lit the torch, and thus is rid of most of the Darach's influence when he tries to put himself on fire, because he feels responsible for everything bad that's ever happened in their life since he was bitten.

And then in s5b, after Theo murdered him, it's Scott who takes responsibility for everything that went wrong, despite him being a victim, where once again, he won't let himself heal.

(all while the show refuses to let Stiles apologize or in any way take responsibility for listening to Theo and betraying the pack)

It's a recurring theme on the show, and with Scott that he's constantly taking responsibility for everything bad that happens around him, even and especially when it isn't his fault.

It's one of his main character traits, and this tendency to blame himself for everything that goes wrong, is probably one of his primary character flaws.

Like, it starts as early as in s1, when Stiles blames Scott for his father getting hit by a car in 'the Tell', when in Heart Monitor, he refuses to even talk to Scott, and Scott is desperately trying to make up for something that Scott had nothing to do with.

With Stiles blaming Scott for the 'werewolf crap coming into their life', despite Scott being the victim, and even going as far as Stiles abusing Scott with lacrosse balls, and getting him beaten up by seniors (risking said seniors' lives) just to punish Scott in false claim of it just being 'training)

I get that Stiles was just frustrated and worried about his father, which Scott knows as well, and is why Scott doesn't hold it against him. But with this added on to Scott's already existing tendency to take the blame for everything that goes wrong...

Scott could have refused, but instead he's blaming himself for these things, despite none of it being his fault... It's an ongoing character trait for Scott to do so.

I'm not saying the show was perfect, one of the main flaws the show had, esp. in regards to Scott, is that they went with the notion that Scott dealt with his suffering internally, and that the audience would see this as resilience. That he didn't lash out (outside of s1 when he's least in control of his instincts), and for the most part just dealt with it.

And directorial this lead to things like the show rarely if ever dealing with the horrors Scott went through. Even in the previouslies we rarely see a focus on what was done to Scott. Even Gerard torturing Scott with a knife in clear view in front of the hospital, and then threatening his Mom, is not mentioned in a single previously, no matter how relevant it would have been to do so...

Just like Melissa's horrified rejection of Scott in Fury is never once dealt with onscreen. Instead we get some mention of 'them being stronger now' in s3, when in reality what the show actually did was to stop having Melissa's behave like Scott's mother, and turning pretty much just into a mentor.

Where we see the sheriff putting his son first, and protecting his son at all cost, Melissa essentially stops doing so after Fury, and just starts putting expectations on him.

People ask why we keep bringing race into this, it's because in any other situation, where a white character's pain would be ignored in the show. (hell this is done plenty with Stiles even in tw fandom), fandom would then pick up the story in fanfic after fanfic...

But with Teen Wolf fandom, that does not happen.

Even Motel California, is more often made about Stiles, or Isaac, than it is made about Scott, a character who is clearly suicidal in canon.

And that would not be the case if Scott were white.

We constantly see fandom claim to hate Scott for traits that he either canonically does not have, faults, he canonically does not have, while ignoring the traits and flaws he does have, because they do not fit the narrative that people want the character or the show to be.

[likoplays]

Graveyard Shift (Part 7 - Betrayal/Rebirth)

Steve Raglan/William Afton x fem!Reader

Warnings: Minors DNI, murder, slight gore, William being a manipulative bitch

Final part, my friends :D I struggled xD

Taglist: @yellowbunnydreams @confiscated-peaches-main

Part 1 † Part 2 † Part 3 † Part 4 † Part 5 † Part 6 † Part 7

Steve had brought you back home on Sunday evening, promising to visit you after his shift on Monday. Everything felt so surreal, so far away, now that you where alone in your own bedroom. You didn't know for how long you were lying on your bed, when your phone rang. With a racing heart you scurried out of bed, grabbing your phone hastily. You were a little disappointed it wasn't Steve but Vanessa. The last week she'd been very busy helping her dad out, so you had no opportunity before to tell her about your date with Steve.

"I'm so happy I finally met someone, who's kind and protective at the same time", you said to Vanessa with a fuzzy feeling.

She didn't press for any details, letting you tell her you what you were comfortable to share. You liked that about her. That was sure something she and Steve had in common, both were incredibly good listeners.

Steve had not broken his promise. Right after his shift, he stopped by with a bouquet of white and pastel pink roses, a few lavender blossoms in between. Your heart skipped a beat, when he kissed you softly after handing you the flowers. He stayed a few hours, cuddling and kissing you. Relishing the lingering feeling of his strong hands moving carefully over your skin you were lying on your bed again, waiting for your shift to start.

***

William headed right to Freddy's after he left you. He still had four hours left until you would show up for his finale. There were some preparations left, but it would be easy in comparison to what he had already done. Also this part wasn't a necessity, but a warm up for him. He just finished putting on the suit, when he heard his "special surprise" entering the building.

***

When you pulled up at Freddy's, your stomach sank. Kyle's car was standing in the parking lot. What was he doing here? He wasn't in his car and you couldn't see him anywhere outside the building. The door was open, but the lock wasn't busted. Everything about this felt wrong. You called Steve and Vanessa. Both didn't pick up.

Calling the cops came to your mind, but you also were so furious your ex had seemingly broken into your workplace, invading your life, that you wanted to take revenge. You knew the pizzeria better than him and you had the advantage of looking for him over the cameras. With trembling hands, you open the front door. Everything seemed normal. You moved as quiet and quickly as possible, scanning your surroundings for any sign of Kyle. When you took the turn to the security office, you froze. The door to the office was wide open, but the lights weren't on.

Was he watching you over the cameras?

Hesitantly you stepped closer, your heart nearly beating out of your chest. Without entering the room, you reached for the light switch. There was nobody in the room. You weren't sure if this was a good or a bad sign, but decided to check the cameras first. Maybe he left? No, he wouldn't have left his car parked here. You quickly turned on the monitors, not even sitting down and searching feverishly for any sign of you ex. The camera in the kitchen was down. You tried calling Steve again to no avail. No service. Dread was creeping through your whole body as the realization hit. You were alone in this.

Cursing yourself for not calling the cops earlier, you take a deep breath. It was strange there was no phone service in the building, there had been before. A thousand thoughts were racing through your head, when you grabbed the flashlight to check the kitchen. With trembling knees, you pushed the door open, the flashlight beam quivering in you unsteady hands. Your eyes caught a glimpse of something behind a counter. You stepped closer, breathing heavy as the object came clearly into view. It was a shoe. A bloody shoe.

You jumped as 80s music started blasting from the main area, sending your mind into overdrive. Everything about this felt like a nightmare straight out of a horror movie. You really didn't want to investigate, that's what gets you killed. The back door. You had never used it and had no idea if it was locked, but it looked like your only chance. You just wanted to leave, not just the building but the job as well. This was enough.

When you reached to the back door, you wanted to cry. It was completely blocked off, heavy crates and animatronic parts were neatly stacked in front of it. You tried to move them, but it was impossible. Desperately you tried to think of another exit than the doors of the main hall. The windows? All boarded up. Captured, like a rat in a labyrinth with only one exit that could mean death. You needed something to defend yourself with. A screwdriver was the first thing that caught your attention. It was better than nothing.

The main area was still dark, as you made your way closer to the doors to an 80s pop song that felt mocking. Somebody's watching me by Rockwell. Very funny, you thought, trying not to let panic take over when the curtains on the stage next to you suddenly opened.

The bright stage lights were blinding you for a moment and you blinked rapidly, frozen like a deer caught in the headlights of a car. The animatronics weren't on stage, but Kyle was. Or what's left of him was. You felt sick and wanted to throw up as you stared at your ex-boyfriend's body, hung up on stage with his own intestines and swinging slightly in the bright spotlight.

"DO YOU LIKE YOUR PRESENT?"

A dreadfully familiar metallic voice made you turn around instantly. The yellow rabbit was blocking the main doors, his head slightly cocked – a bloody knife in his hand.

"MY TURN."

You had no chance to dodge the attack. The rabbit sprinted at you at full speed and as he came closer you rammed the screwdriver into the small crevice between the head and torso of the suit. You only felt the stinging pain in your stomach, when you fell to the ground flat on your back. Gasping for air you looked down you body. The blade was lodged deeply into your abdomen, staining your top red around it. Horrified you looked up to the rabbit towering over you.

"STUPID BITCH!"

He raised his hands and removed the rabbit mask.

"St-Steve?" You were staring in shock and confusion at the man in front of you, with tears slowly filling your eyes and clouding your vision. With a grunt he grabbed the screwdriver and pulled it out of his neck.

"That was close… again", he said, looking at you with a mixture of anger and amusement on his face, "and the name's William. William Afton. Sorry, Darling."

"Why?"

"Oh honey, you know why. You escaped the first time. Made me use my sick leave, spending money on bugging the place and you. You're the most expensive victim I had. Not to mention you nearly killed me with your little tackle. You see…", he chuckled while he knelt down beside you, taking off the gloves of the rabbit suit, "these spring lock suits are dangerous. A wrong movement, a push or a fall can activate them and pierce the body of who ever is unlucky enough to wear it at the time."

Your eyes were burning in pain, fear and shame. He had used you. He had used you from the very beginning. You couldn't move and tried to look away, but his hand grabbed your chin and forced you to face him. His silver eyes were piercing through your soul; the same eyes you could've gotten lost in only a few hours ago. Now they were filled with a dark hunger, predatory and wild.

"Don't look away", he wiped away a tear from your cheek with his thumb, his voice so soft and melodic it stung even more, "your despair is beautiful." He leaned closer. "You know, I just wanted to kill you for fun at first, but your will to live and fight for it gave me an even better idea. Don't worry", William whispered softly, "I won't let your agony go to waste. That's all that matters now." He twisted the knife around, the world around you fading into nothingness.

***

A strange feeling surges through you, darkness surrounding you as you open your eyes. The silent humming of electronics is the only thing you hear. You feel different. A distant memory of pain… of agony flashes through your confused mind. You realize, you're standing in an upright position. Odd. You can't feel the sensation of your feet meeting the ground and yet you can tell that you are standing tip toed with your arms stretched to your sides. In fact, you don't feel any physical sensation at all.

You try to move your body, which follows your orders smoothly and without any effort, when you hear heavy footsteps echoing through the darkness. Overhead lights flood the bare room, leaving you blinded for a second. You are standing on a stage. With curiosity you take a look at your hands, your smooth and slender white fingers. "Welcome, Ballora".

'Ballora?', you think. Yes. Ballora. That's your name. You look up to see a yellow rabbit in front of you. You wave at him as he turns around, leaving the room and turning off the lights. After a few minutes, a spotlight comes on. Just for you. You close your eyes and start to dance.

————

Do you want to read more?

Masterlist † Daydreams and Nightmares Collection

[brighteststar707]

Turn It All Back

Part Three of Don't Say My Name

Part 1 | Part 2 | Masterlist | Read on AO3 (Registered users only)

✦ Saeyoung x gn!Reader

✦ Words: 3407

✦ TW: Death mention, destructive anger

“And… what brought you here?” As if he doesn’t know. He can read it off your face. You were there with him at the funeral, were the one to give him the news. You have been watching him with those same eyes since the day he woke up.   “I’m worried about you.”   The real question is how much do you know? What do you see when you look into his eyes? He can’t bear to look at you and find out.

Saeyoung sits at his desk and absentmindedly watches the screens in front of him. One of the monitors is broken, a web of cracks and multicoloured pixels is all that’s left on the screen. He can’t remember the outburst that caused it, only the sick feeling he got when he realised what he had done. He pretends it’s not broken, though, and keeps flitting his eyes from screen to screen, as if he's anticipating a mission that is never coming.  

This has been an increasingly common occurrence over the past few days as the anger inside him has swelled up, taken up all the remaining space in his body, leaving room for little else. It has resulted in small, isolated outbursts like the one that caused him to break the screen. Manifestations of momentary frustration that he cannot contain.

He feels like a time bomb about to go off, the pressure between his ribs threatening to break him at any moment. The funeral was the last straw. When he is not at the hospital, mask all the way up, putting his only real energy into trying to help Saeran, he loses hours to sitting motionlessly, holding himself tense so he doesn’t do something stupid. In the waiting room seats, in the car, at his desk. Even at the funeral.

He has caught himself fantasising about revenge lately. It is temptingly easy. He'd go quiet for a few days, abduct Rika before she can be sent anywhere out of reach. He would finally be able to ask her all the questions that had been raging in him for so long. He'd deliver justice. Then, he'd finally be free. Or so he tries to believe.

With everyone at fault gone or out of reach, he is the only one his anger has left to hurt. This is the closest thing to catharsis he can picture.

He had seen her at the funeral today. Intentional or otherwise, there was always someone standing between them, keeping them a safe distance apart. He wonders if it was your doing, or perhaps Jumin had been more attentive than Saeyoung had given him credit for. She had been staring at V's picture, oblivious to everyone around her. In a world of her own grief.

It doesn’t take long before his fantasies are interrupted by the more rational side of him that knows that revenge in this form really won’t make things any better. Even if she spoke to him, he doubts anything she would say could make any difference. Killing her would just put more blood on his hands, make him feel more like a monster than he already does.

The robotic voice of his security system suddenly announces a visitor, pulling him from his train of thought. He doesn't care enough to get up. Whoever managed to get through the front gate will just have to come find him themselves if they really want to. It's probably Vanderwood anyway, here to pick up something he forgot.

He was not expecting your voice to ring through the house.

“Saeyoung?”

He straightens up suddenly, wincing when he jostles his arm the wrong way. He scrabbles for the alarm remote to turn it off. Gingerly, he gets up from his chair and rolls out his shoulders, as if it’s going to do anything to ease the tension there. He is equal parts thrilled to see you and anxious to keep you away from him as much as possible.

“I’m here,” he says as he comes out into the living room. It’s a mess. Besides going without Vanderwood’s regular cleanings (Saeyoung does not have the presence of mind to attempt it himself yet), there is more proof of his declining mental state here too. A broken figurine, the robo-dog looking worse for wear after getting in his way. Old takeout containers sitting by the front door. He hopes you won’t see any more of these traces through the house before he can set them right.

You’re already there, waiting for him in the middle of the room. There is a strange dissonance in seeing you here under the fluorescents. He has come to associate you with warmth and comfort, starry skies and sun coming in through the windows. The real, the beautiful. There is nothing in this house that is real (not in the way that it relates to him), much less beautiful.

You take him in slowly. For the first time, he feels self-conscious of how poorly he has been taking care of himself. His clothes are crumpled (he hasn’t gotten changed since getting back from the funeral), his hair is a mess. He knows he has dark circles and he can’t remember the last real meal he ate. Belatedly, he notices he is still holding the remote.

“How did you get in?” He asks to try and deflect your attention away from him.   

“Vanderwood lent me their dictionary. Turns out my Arabic isn’t too bad.” 

He assumes that Vanderwood also gave you the address. Traitor.  

“And… what brought you here?” As if he doesn’t know. He can read it off your face. You were there with him at the funeral, were the one to give him the news. You have been watching him with those same eyes since the day he woke up.  

“I’m worried about you.”  

The real question is how much do you know? What do you see when you look into his eyes? He can’t bear to look at you and find out. He does what he knows best instead.  

“Oh, this?” He gestures vaguely to himself and the space around them, “It’s better than it looks, I promise. It’s just with Saeran… ah… you know how I get.” 

“Saeyoung.” 

“Please,” and now his voice is pleading. More desperate than he wanted it to sound. Please let it go, he thinks, I can’t talk about it or I’ll shatter. “I’m fine.” 

“Fine?” You echo. His pupils are big and dark, all but swallowing up his irises. He looks possessed. “I thought we promised that we’d tell each other the truth.” 

The memory hurts. It’s bright, coloured in a happiness that seems almost unreachable to him now. He will be the first to admit that he has fallen into old habits, keeping you just out of reach for your own safety. And he hates it. Now that he has grown used to the comfort you bring, he hates to be apart from you. It’s just that lately he has been afraid of exploding and hurting everyone around him. His roughest edges are out on show, and he is barely keeping them contained. He'd rather he be the only person he hurts.

So, he deflects again.

“You… don’t want to know what I’m thinking.”  

“Bullshit.” 

He looks surprised. You’ve never spoken to him this way before. But this isn’t the time for delicate approaches. He will take any out you give him. 

You know full well that the funeral was the last drop in the bucket that was on the brink of overflowing. You had caught the sharpness to his words, the way he kept his hands clenched into fists to keep them from shaking earlier today. And that terrible stillness. That’s the biggest tell. As if someone has robbed him of his essence and left behind an eerie impostor.

Opposite you, his demeanour has shifted. He has squared off his shoulders as if he is preparing for an attack. “Fine. I don’t want you to know. It’s… ugly,” he says.

“That excuse has never worked on me before. I want to know what you’re feeling and thinking, regardless of how bad it is. How am I supposed to support you if you won’t let me in?” 

He doesn’t say anything, just watches you stubbornly.  

More softly, you add, “you know I’m not going to think less of you for what you’re thinking, right?” 

In theory, he does. He has come to trust you completely. It’s still hard to believe in practice, though. Being in his own head so much lately has made it hard to imagine that you wouldn’t be disappointed in him, or worse, repulsed by what he has become. He doesn’t know what will become of him if he ever lets go of his building anger completely.

God, does he wants to, though. There is a part of him that wants to put himself in your hands and trust that you’ll know how to help him. It’s almost a relief that you were stubborn enough to come and find him yourself . He loves and hates that you would chase him down just to break down his walls, over and over again. 

He knows just by looking at you that you’re not going to give up. And in that moment, he has to trust that you are as strong as you have proven to be so far. That you will catch him if he crumbles.

“What… do you want to know?” He finally says. His posture relaxes slightly, his eyes not empty but fearful, as if even he doesn’t know what is coming next.  

“What are you thinking?” 

“I… I don’t –” It dies in his throat. It’s nothing coherent. A hot, restless fury, fantasies of blood and revenge and the inescapable reality of the damage that has been inflicted. 

“Okay, then let’s talk about Saeran instead. How is his treatment going?”  

He deflates a little bit. You know him too well. The details of Saeran’s care are imprinted on his brain, and they start to tumble out of his mouth without needing any more prompting.  

"It's not. He is resisting treatment; the doctors don't know what to do with him. He won't talk to me and he- " his breath catches when he thinks about how broken he looked the last time he saw him. Not just physically, but mentally too. The emptiness in his eyes as he watches the clouds passing by his window. “The doctors say that his condition indicates years of drug use.” He grits his teeth. “Years.”  

The anger that had temporarily subsided in your presence flares up again. It fills his lungs and burns his throat as the memories come all at once. That list of chemicals, the blue substance they discovered after raiding the Mint Eye compound. The side effects, the withdrawal symptoms. The testimonies of former cult members coming out every day – the ceremonies and the punishments. His brother’s eyes, icy mint where they were once warm amber.  

He instinctively wants to put it out, change the subject before he can’t breathe anymore and his heart starts to hammer too hard. At the back of his throat, it all builds up, begging to be let out. It's too much.

You’re looking at him encouragingly, urging him to push through it. So, he lets the spark catch. The more painful realisations start to come out, and these hurt more to say.

“They forced that stuff on him for years and put him through hell. They lied to me, sent me those pictures to keep me quiet while they abused him! It was never supposed to be this way!”

His voice is already getting louder, but you don’t flinch, so he doesn’t try to stop it. He hasn’t said any of this out loud yet, and in a way, this feels more like a way for him to untangle the mess in his mind than it is to answer your question. You let him talk regardless.

 “V spoke to me almost every day and he never told me how bad things were! He told me to defend the RFA against the hacker! He knew who I was fighting and did it anyway! How DARE he!” Every time he says V’s name, it’s with venom.  "I might have made things worse for Saeran by just-" His voice gives out before he can finish.

He doesn't fight against the memories that resurface.

Saeran’s skills at hacking, the years it must have taken, the toll it took on his health. That keyboard at the compound, the letters on the keys long since rubbed away from use.  The list of injuries he sustained, old scars and new bruises, the chronic malnutrition and lack of sleep, and – somehow the most offensive – the extensive scarring around his wrists and ankles from being physically restrained.

Blood is pounding in his ears. He wants to scream, to sob for every second Saeran had to endure in that place. It is impossible to think clearly when all he can hear is his heart racing and all he can see when he closes his eyes is the pain and regret in V’s eyes when they were back in that cell. It wasn’t enough, and it is all he will ever get. 

“This was supposed to be the beginning. We were supposed to be free. But how am I supposed to live with his fingerprints on everything in our lives? I go into Saeran’s hospital room every single day and he threatens to kill me. How am I supposed to move on?” He says that last part mockingly, echoing what one of his doctors had told him before he was discharged. “He let Saeran be tortured! Who gave him the right to meddle in our lives? We were kids!”

In that moment, his fury feels inescapable. Embedded in his flesh, impossible to separate from himself without turning into a bloodied wreck.

“You asked me what I have been thinking recently? I wish I was the one to kill him. I wish I could have ruined him exactly how he ruined us. I wish I could show him what any father of mine truly deserves.”

It’s all too much, it needs to get out out out before it chokes him.

He hears the plastic of the remote cracking against the floor and then feels it under his heel as he grinds it into the tiles. It takes a second for his mind to catch up.

He looks back to you suddenly, expecting the worst, shame already clawing at his insides. He is already looking for any trace of disgust on your face, or worse, fear. But you only look mildly surprised.

“Saeyoung, you’re crying.”

He touches a hand to his cheek to find that it’s wet. How long has he been crying for? He isn’t sure. You reach out to cup his cheek. The tenderness in your eyes makes him feel brittle, on the brink of shattering.

He takes a ragged breath and then says, “That boy… in the pictures… that was who Saeran was supposed to be. Happy, in the sun. Carefree. Now, he might never -” he doesn't want to finish that thought. Shakily, he continues, "I was the one supposed to suffer for us. He should never have known this kind of life even existed."

You intervene, meaning to stop him before he can follow that line of thinking further. You clasp his hand in yours, try to straighten out his fingers, warm them up in your own (they're uncharacteristically cold).

"The responsibility of saving yourself and your brother should not have fallen solely on you. They should have protected you too," you continue.

He goes cold. Your statement tugs at something in him. A feeling so old it is etched into his bones, remembering it sends a dull ache through his body. It’s more instinctive than a clear memory he can define.

When he was young, there must have been a moment where he had wished that he didn’t have to hurt so much to keep Saeran safe. But that thought might as well have been sacrilege. He quickly repressed it, put it somewhere far out of reach, and grew around it.

But the way you've put it, so matter-of-factly, without any space for doubt, has unearthed that feeling, brought it back with a renewed strength, made it impossible to ignore.

His anger so far has felt overwhelming, too complicated to handle. This anger is simple. Childlike, almost.

He is Luciel, naming himself after the devil, and nobody intervenes. He is told that he has to do work - commit crimes - to earn money (he would only learn of V's personal riches later on in life and never connect the dots). He brings down international servers at the age of fourteen, because he'd rather be a criminal than watch his brother go hungry again. Nobody intervenes.

He is Agent 707, aged sixteen, fresh out of agency training, body aching and mind wiped blank. He is breaking codes he didn't know he had until it was too late, crossing lines that he never had the luxury of setting. Killing someone for the first time, taking on assignments without knowing who he is serving. Begging V and Rika, the only people he trusts in the world, for any indication that he is doing this for something greater than  himself, because the concept of himself as a person is fading further every day.  

He had always taken these struggles as a necessity, the sacrifices he has to make to keep his brother safe. He trusted V and Rika to guide him in the right direction, to know better than he did. They told him the agency was his best option, so he took it without question.

It’s only in hindsight that he realises just how much of himself he lost to that decision.

It’s in the knowledge that, despite being unconscious at the time, he can picture exactly how Saeran felt on that fateful day at Mint Eye. The cold metal, clasped in his hands. The shot, the recoil, the ringing in his ears. That momentary sense of relief, because he had bought himself more time, immediately followed by the sick seeping sense of guilt at what he’d done. He has been there many times himself. It is a feeling he’d do anything to take off of Saeran’s hands.

Again, more muted this time, he feels that surge of anger through his body, wishing he could pull V out of hell now and squeeze the life out of him himself and save Saeran that pain, at least.

There is a child in him, begging to be heard, wondering if he really was deserving of better. For the first time, he listens.

He inhales sharply through his teeth. "If I believe that then..."

"Then everything else falls apart," you finish.

If, he said. But it has already taken a hold in his head. The belated frustration he is feeling on his own behalf, the way his past memories are being tainted. And, yes, it all falls apart.

His voice is fragile, the question devastating in its simplicity. “Why? What did we do?”

The fight has left him. The anger has forced its way out and has left him raw and tired. With no defensive buffer, there is only the pain left to feel. You reach for his other hand and guide him to the sofa with you. He sinks into it warily and melts at your touch.

You give his hands a squeeze. “You didn’t deserve it.”       

“There’s so much… where do I put it all? I can’t get away from it… I can’t let it go. It’s ruining me.”

“I don't know. There isn't an easy way out. But allowing yourself to feel the things you're feeling is better than the alternative. You can’t hurt yourself forever. I won’t let you.”

He lets that sink in. You wrap your arms around him and he allows himself to feel small for a moment. He can feel the breath you take before you speak again.

“You know I’m always here to catch you, right?” 

And for the first time, he does completely.

You comb your fingers through his hair. He takes a breath, then another. Each one hurts, but it feels good to focus his energy on one action.

You both know that this isn’t the end. That this isn’t the last time this conversation will have to happen, but he feels a certain relief in knowing that he made it through this one. That you will be here to hold him through the next one and the one after that. Maybe it won’t kill him and maybe he doesn’t have to become a monster consumed by it.

He can only hang on for a day when he isn’t ruined by everything he has lost and suffered.

[carefulfears]

what do you think mulder thinks of diana fowley after biogenesis through amor fati? i don't think we really see anything on screen/in text (though i think it says a lot that he didn't have much of a reaction when scully came to his apartment & instead focuses on scully & their relationship lol)

yeah there’s basically NOTHING in the text but tbh i think finding out for certain that she was working with CSM really kindaaaa snapped him out of some things…mulder doesn’t give a fuck what people do to him, obviously, but it’s a different thing entirely to find out that your ex is involved in something like that. like there are MILES from “my partner makes me feel like shit and is maybe pretty abusive” and “my partner is like 3rd on the call list of a eugenics group that treats women like test subjects”

like, scully was right, diana was monitoring MUFON women and collecting data on them. she was heading up the tests on cassandra. she probably knew the truth about samantha the whole time. just nasty nasty shit.

she’s the villain in the amor fati dream: the dismissive symbol of abandonment that offers another path.

one of the most interesting scenes of diana’s character to me, is in the sixth extinction, when she comes to see mulder in the hospital. and she knows what the effects of the artifact are, that he can hear what she’s thinking. that, therefore, he knows who she works for and what she’s doing. (imagine your ex-husband/wannabe boyfriend/obsession finds out you’re lying to him because he can read your mind….shit is crazy!)

and she tells him that she knows he knows. but that he also knows that she loves him.

and she does love him. there’s no reason to lie about that then, she knows he would be able to tell.

scully knows it without hearing it, that’s how she gets diana to save mulder’s life, ultimately. she comes to her and begs. tells her to please just think of him, who he is, who he was when she met him, who he is now. in the end, because of scully weaponizing how diana feels, diana can’t go through with it. she gives her life to help him.

diana seems to be one of those influences on mulder that’s only really all that significant when she’s close by. it’s like how all the tension in the beginning builds up to him getting in her car when she tells him to, leaving scully, when diana is there instructing him.

i think being able to know who she truly was and her true intentions and allegiances, prior to her death, really goes a long way in the way he responds to losing her.

don’t get me wrong, i think he’s upset. you can kind of see the shock cross his face when scully tells him. but he stays focused on his goal, which is to express to scully how important she is to him, in the wake of how discarded diana always made her feel.

mulder loved diana and grieves that she was killed, he doesn’t have it in him not to, but mostly he…wanted something from her, right? he wanted that approval and “affection” and to please her. he wanted her to believe him. the first thing that she says to disarm him (in the end) when she can tell he’s uneasy, is, “hey. i’m on your side.”

learning who she really is, it’s easier not to crave her approval so badly.

(this is the crux of amor fati’s “last temptation.” it’s diana saying: you’re childish. you are going to fail. your path is not your own. “you have to let go, fox.” and it’s scully countering: we need you. this is who you are.)

(it’s why he responds in the end by telling scully that it’s her that’s the voice of truth.)

and then in death, diana’s not…there for him to want anything from!! so it’s like, again, yeah he obviously feels the loss, this was someone who meant a lot to him for over a decade. but also it’s likeeeeee freeing in a way? it makes things simpler in a way? (he’s able to communicate all of that to scully instantly after hearing diana is gone, after over a year of the tension hanging around it)

if you asked him about diana now, or even a year later, i think he’d be like…damn that’s crazy! 😭😭 mulder doesn’t have an awful lot of object permanence you guys sjdjsjfj

when scully comes to tell mulder that diana was killed, and he says to her, “you were my friend, and you told me the truth,” the language matters so much. that’s what scully called diana, “i know she was your friend,” and he turns it back onto her. you were my friend. you told me the truth.

in my opinion, it’s not that he doesn’t love and grieve diana, but that there’s a freedom in knowing the truth. knowing who someone is, and their intentions. knowing who has your best interest at heart. knowing where you stand in the world, what you want to do.

that’s really what allows for the openness and lightness of s7, in the wake of diana’s absence. mulder’s always seeking, always learning.

[kodacozy]

Kyoya smut/fluff headcanons or a one shot? if not Kyoya, could it be L from Death Note?

Of course! Thank you for the request! I went ahead and did headcannons for both :)

Kyoya Ootori

○ Do not date a host if you get insecure

○ this boy struggles with self expression. He can be kind but it will be in private

○ A hand hold alone in a classroom, a quick peck in the music room while he's doing expense reports

○ When word broke you two were dating, he expected to lose business, however quite the opposite happened

○ apparently these girls liked the idea of fighting for a man

○ Plus now they see that dating a host is possible

○ business boomed so the club got a happy Kyoya for a couple weeks

○ He will not stand for bullying, he has watchdogs making sure no other person is harassing you for dating him

○ He was nervous about introducing you to the club, luckily things went fine at first

○ He did smack Tamaki over the head with his notebook for flirting with you

○ He send you flowers constantly, every week you have a new bouquet at your door "To show how my love for you blossoms-Kyoya" on a little attached card

○ after a while of dating he will bring you home, he likes to lay in bed with you, just running his fingers through your hair

○ "Will you come join me tomorrow for lunch, my love?" He'll ask quietly while holding you. And he'll smile and hum at your affirmation

🚫🔞🚫 smut ahead!!

● More of a soft dom, bc of his father he doesn't like being too physically rough with someone.

● Big into dirty talk. he loves to say things that'll make your heart race

● Doesn't care about body size, big, little, he's probably seen a lot considering who he is, so no judgment

● Loves it when you dress up for him, not some skimpy lingerie though, he likes something classier. A neglige with some intricate bottoms maybe.

● He is assertive, won't yell, but he is naturally intimidating so he'll stare you down until you're squirming

● "You look cute," with a smirk and a raised brow "All for me?"

● !GROANS! not super vocal during it, but he groans low and long

● when he finishes he always make sure to pull out (even wearing a condom)

● Sorry if it disappoints, he can't risk a child with his families status.

● awkward with aftercare, he'll try though and bring you a clean damp rag and a water

● he'll have a servant bring some fruit and sweets up for you both afterwards

● Will hold you and kiss you until you fall asleep

he's a good boyfriend. Make sure to give him his space now and then, be honest, and give him time to be vulnerable and you two have a bright future!

L/Lawliet

○ You two met because of the police

○ Matsuda forgot some important documents and they sent you, the receptionist to deliver them

○ Wrong place wrong time

○ you were quickly apprehended by L's security and brought to an interrogation room

○ the officers working on the case saw you and cleared the confusion, due to the breach though he had you in a monitored room

○ L gave you a formal apology in writing and had it delivered to your room

○ You wrote a letter back and thats how this relationship started

○ He would watch you smile and wrote your letters to him

○ eventually you meet in person he was scared you'd be put off by his appearance and mannerisms, however you still smiled and bowed

○ He invited you to his observation room, a tower of sweets beside him, he sits down and you follow suit

○ You two talk for hours and enjoy the treats

○ as the night creeps on you decide to return to your room, standing up you lean over and kiss his cheek

○ once you're out of the room he reaches up and cups his face where you kissed

○ "I could actually fall for her..." He stares off, brain working at nitro speeds

○ "Watari? Tomorrow send a car for Mrs. y/n please, I'd like to take her to dinner."

○ no publicity, however he doesn't mind being close to you around his team

○ likes when you sit on his lap (you can't be too big for this man)

🚫🔞🚫 smut ahead!!

● Very soft and easy going

● he isn't experienced at all but he does plenty of research to make up for it

● makes sure he has all of the appropriate items to give you a good time

● he's a munch

● likes to lay down and have you sit on his face, he'll be content for hours

● Definitely has a thing for breeding

● He loves the idea of having a family with you and caring for you as his life partner

● He talks quite warm when you two are in the act

● Light moans and sighs

● Likes to hold you close, favorite position is you in his lap so he can hug you

● goes wild when you blow him

● hands gripping his desk, head thrown back

● one day you slide under his desk and pull his cock out, came immediately at the thought of being caught

● great at aftercare, holds you, gives you water and food, covers you in blankets and turns on the TV so you can cuddle up for a little while

He is a great boyfriend. When you see him that is. He is dedicated in every sense of the word. He will never cheat on you, but you may go awhile without talking to him. Hang tight for this to be over and your relationship will be stronger than ever