#'last' scene sounds so final but i know we are getting that sequel

[yrsonpurpose]

Alex & Henry: first & last scenes together

#rwrb #rwrbedit #red white and royal blue #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #firstprince #mine* #feeling nostalgic #'last' scene sounds so final but i know we are getting that sequel #the way henry just walked off akjfdlk just like me fr #even tho its dark you can just see alex's stupid grin in the last gif im obsessed #they came so far :')

[zepskies]

A Good Man Is Hard to Find

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader 

Summary: When Beau starts pulling away from you and Emily during a very difficult case, will the pressure make or break your relationship?

AN: This is a sequel story to the Take Me Home storyverse, set just a few months after Part 9!

Word Count: 5.5K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, a Law & Order: SVU-esque case, angst, perilous situations and violence, hurt/comfort and fluff.

Catch up on TMH: ⤵️

❤️ Take Me Home Masterlist

You took pleasure in the sounds you were pulling out of this man.

You continued to kiss down his neck. Each of your movements was slow and purposeful.

Your hips rolled against his, brushing your clothed, aching core against his risen length. His hands were like steel bands on your hips, not letting you leave even if you wanted to. He groaned.

“I needa get ready for work,” Beau chuckled. And he pointed out, “So do you.”

You smiled against his skin, and you gently dragged his flesh between your teeth.

“It’s still early,” you argued in his ear. You teased the shell of it with your tongue, making him shudder and rock his clothed hard-on between your legs. The wet tip of his cock dampened your panties further.

His hands moved down your thighs, caressing, squeezing, getting a handful of your ass in the process. Just as his fingers dipped under the satin hem of your panties, his phone buzzed on one of the nightstands. Beau let out a sigh of disappointment and reached over blindly for it.

He saw the caller ID and took in a breath to get himself together first. Even though he didn’t quite succeed, he answered the call.

“Mornin’, Jenny,” he greeted. You grinned.

“Tell her I said hi,” you whispered.

Beau shot you a “stern” look, though his lips curved at a smile. He mouthed at you to behave. 

You gave him a look that was cheeky at best.

“We caught a new case. If you want, you can meet us at the scene instead of the precinct,” said Jenny.

“Okay, where to?” Beau asked.

While Jenny gave him the directions, you used his distraction to your advantage. You shimmied out of your underwear and the overly large shirt you’d stolen from him last night. Then you drew down the waistband of his underwear and freed his cock into your hands.

“Okay, sounds g—” Beau was forced to pause on a sharp inhale.

“You okay?” Jenny asked.

“Y-Yeah. Just fine. Had a tickle in my throat,” Beau said.

"Okay, well just so you know," Jenny said, continuing to give him tidbits of information that he really should've been paying attention to.

He cleared his throat, shooting you an incredulous look. You didn’t pay him much mind as you began to touch him with care, from the weeping tip and along the shaft down to the base, even caressing his balls.

Beau’s furrowed gaze held yours as his breath faltered again. Your deft hands lined up his cock to your entrance. You teased yourself on the sensitive head of it, brushing it through your wet folds and against your clit. You had to bite your lip against a moan, but you didn’t quite manage to stifle the sound.

“Okay, Jenny. Thanks, I’ll see you there in a bit,” he said in a rush.

He hung up as soon as he could, but all the while, you were unrelenting. You finally sunk fully down on his cock, taking him all the way inside your wet heat.

Beau let out a strained groan and grabbed your arms. He sat up and pressed his forehead to yours. His lips formed a chiding smile.

“That wasn’t very nice,” he said. His voice was a bit rough, sending a shiver down your spine.  

“You want me to be nice?” you teased, beginning to let the full length of him slide out of you. You welcomed him back inside with a rock of your hips. “I just need a moment of your time, Sheriff.”

He nodded breathlessly. “Think I can manage that.”

You smirked and held onto the back of his neck as you rode him. You had a feeling you would find fingerprint bruises on your hips and thighs tomorrow, but this was worth it.

It took a lot to see Beau lose control, even in the bedroom. Now, he had a hand tangled in your hair and his lips fastened to your throat. He helped you move on him with a guiding hand on your hip. You slipped a hand from his shoulder and further parted your folds to find your clit.

But as Beau so often did, he moved your hand away so he could usher in your pleasure himself. He massaged your clit until your inner walls became almost too tight for him to drive up into you. Your thighs shook around his hips, and he managed to hold off on his own release until you came, hard on his cock.

You cried out near his ear and held onto his shoulders. He supported your collapse against his chest, but he still grabbed your hip tighter and rutted into you a few more times, until he was able to spill into you and fill you up to the brim with his warmth. You clenched on him on purpose, milking him for all he was worth.

Fuuuckin’ hell, he thought with a grunt, and he panted against your shoulder. He laid a belated kiss there.

“What a way to greet the sun,” he remarked.

You laughed breathily, caressing his cheek.

Beau was, inevitably, running late for work. He found that he was okay with that as he kissed you goodbye.

You were still in your robe and holding a mug of coffee. You didn’t need to be at work for another couple of hours. Your Tuesday classes didn’t start until 10:00 a.m.

“Have a good day, baby. I…” you trailed.

Certain words were poised on your tongue. Words that neither of you had said to one another just yet. Your heart started tripping up a bit as you realized it. 

Even though you’d known the truth of what you felt for him for a while now, you’d been very careful to let him say it first. You told yourself you didn’t want to pressure him, in light of his contentious divorce and how new this all still was between you and Beau…

But more often, you wondered if you were maybe projecting, considering your own rocky past. Maybe it was just self-preservation.

“Yeah?” Beau questioned. You waved him off with a nervous chuckle. 

“Nothing. I don’t know,” you said. “My coffee hasn’t kicked in yet.”

He just smiled and gave you one last kiss to the side of your head before he left your apartment.

Beau arrived at the scene of the crime: the parking lot of a movie theater. Jenny and Poppernak were already there inside the perimeter of yellow caution tape while the Forensics team did their thing. Jenny checked her watch when she saw the sheriff.

“What took you so long?” she asked. 

“Traffic,” Beau lied, his face warming. “What’ve we got?”

He quickly shifted his attention to the pool of blood staining the ground between his deputies. The path of his gaze led to the victim: a young woman wearing a blouse, skirt, and heels. The skirt was torn up to the hip. Her neck was cut, deep but clean.  

There were other signs of struggle; road burns on her right thigh, like she had been dragged. Jenny even found a can of pepper spray rolled under the victim’s car. 

“Maybe he was trying to get her to his car. She fought back hard enough that he cut his losses,” she theorized. 

Beau blew out a sigh and nodded grimly.

“Okay. Let’s get started.”

Two months gave the Lewis and Clark Sheriff’s Department two more murders. Both were women, presumably alone and late at night, and in the dimly lit, poorly secured parking lot of an establishment. 

Stressed didn’t begin to cover how Beau Arlen walked back into the precinct two hours before he truly had to. What little forensics they’d been able to uncover from each scene (and on the victims) let them to conclude that the suspect was male, and likely between 5’10” and over 6 feet tall.

As they now had a murder cluster, Beau and his team determined that the victims were found within a 5-mile radius. Both Emily’s school and the college where you taught were within that range.   

It had led Beau to long nights spent at the precinct and in town, researching, canvasing, working with his team to lock down possible leads. 

But those two months had also led him to cancel dates with you and plans with his daughter. He hadn’t stayed over your apartment in weeks. You’d spoken to Emily, and she told you he was often late in picking her up from school on his custody days with her. When she was with him, he always seemed distant, distracted.

It was all too familiar, Emily told you, and she hated it. 

You were worried and becoming increasingly frustrated. Any calls you made to him to check in were a few minutes at most, before he left you hanging to go back to work.

Beau had told you this was a difficult string of homicide cases, and very little else. You knew that he shouldn’t and couldn’t tell you too many details about the case, but you also couldn’t help but feel that he was pulling away from you…and leaving you in the dark. 

You’d just gotten home after a longer day than usual at work. Frankly, you were exhausted. All you wanted to do was shower and find whatever you could in your fridge to have for dinner. You didn’t care what it was at this point.

Before you could go rummaging, however, your phone started to ring. You sighed and went back to the purse you dumped on the kitchen table, and you saw that the call was from Carla. Your brows knitted in confusion. She’d been on a business trip in California for one of her higher-profile trial cases.

Carla was polite on the phone, but sounded a bit stressed.

“Emily just called to tell me that Beau hasn’t come by to pick her up from school. She’s been there for two hours,” Carla said.

Your eyes widened in surprise. “What? That’s not like him.” 

“I know, but he’s not picking up his phone. Is he with you?” she asked. 

“No, I just got home. He has to be still at work,” you said. You restrained a sigh as you grabbed your purse back up. “I can pick Emily up.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, in a relieved tone that suggested that was what she’d wanted all along, but she still wanted to be polite about it. 

“Yes, I’ll get her. Don’t worry,” you said. “And I’ll talk to Beau about this.”

“Good,” Carla said. “I appreciate that.”

After getting off the phone with Carla, you texted Emily and let her know you were coming to pick her up. She texted back:

Are you sure? I can just take an Uber to your place or something.

You replied:

No, honey. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be there in 15 - 20 minutes.

You didn’t manage to get ahold of Beau until you’d already picked Emily up from school. You braved through thirty minutes of traffic to get home again, and you stopped to grab dinner on the way.

Beau didn’t get to your apartment until later that night. You and Emily had a nice dinner of Tex-Mex takeout (though she’d said it was definitely better in Houston). He looked tired and apologetic as he went to hug his daughter first. 

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he said. “I just got held up at work.”

Emily nodded and tried to smile at him, but it didn’t reach her eyes. 

“It’s fine, I get it,” she said. 

Beau knew his daughter well enough to see the truth. He sighed, but he went over to you in the kitchen next. You were putting away the leftovers. He laid a hand on your back and tried to kiss you in greeting, but you only gave him your cheek. 

You didn’t meet his eyes when you slid over the plate you’d set aside for him: a massive carne asada burrito with all the sauces, just like he liked it. 

Beau felt like an ass. 

You left him to heat up his food and went to Emily, who was helping to clear the kitchen table. 

“Do you need help with your homework?” you asked her. “I know you said you did some at school while you were waiting.”

She nodded. “Yeah, I’m pretty much done. I’ve got it.”

You smiled at her. “Okay, good job.”

The next item on your mental list was grabbing the bedsheets out of the dryer, to set up the pull-out bed from the couch later for Emily to sleep.

Beau watched you putter around the apartment while Emily settled in front of the TV with the remainder of her homework. He felt like an outsider with his own girlfriend and daughter…and there was an eerily familiar feeling churning in his gut. 

Later that night, you were reading in bed. Beau stepped out of the bathroom after a shower, with the towel wrapped around his hips, his chest and arms all dewy. You had to force yourself not to take notice.

You’d been missing him—practically aching for him for weeks, for two months. You were also upset with him though, and for more than one reason.

After he got dressed for bed in a long-sleeved shirt and some sweatpants, Beau once again noticed that deceptively calm look on your face. He knew that face, just as he sensed the tension in the air.

He sighed and came to sit on the edge of his side of the bed. Or at least, the side he’d claimed ever since he started sleeping over regularly here. Somehow, his own trailer had become a bit stale and lonesome, unless Emily was staying over. 

Beau watched your profile and saw the way you were trying your best to ignore him. 

“I get the feeling you’re mad,” Beau said, breaking the silence. “Sorry about today. I know Carla called you…I just got caught up with something at work.”

“Carla was right to call me,” you replied, though your eyes didn’t leave the page that you weren’t reading. Beau’s lips pursed. 

“Darlin’, would you look at me, please?” he asked.

You dropped your book into your lap, and you met his gaze. 

“All right, tell me. Why’re you mad?” he asked. 

You raised your brows with a tense frown.

“I’m upset with you. Because this is the first night you’ve spent here in over a month. And it’s not because you wanted to.” 

You shoved the blankets off your body and slipped out of the bed. Beau’s shoulders sunk a bit. 

“Come on, honey. You know that’s not—” he tried, but you weren’t done. 

No, you were very far from done.

“I’m upset with you, because every time I try to extend an olive branch and make plans with you, you reschedule at the last minute,” you snapped. “I’m upset with you because what few and far between conversations we do have? They consist of me trying to figure out what’s happening with you, trying to share with you about what’s going on with me—and you’re either half-listening, or you’re running off before the five-minute mark.”

Again, Beau opened his mouth to argue as his brows furrowed, but you beat him to it.

“And not to mention, you forgot your daughter,” you said. “You’ve been forgetting her, and you’ve been shutting me out.”

Beau stood along with you, his whole body tense with frustration. 

“Look, it’s not like I’m out there cheating on you! I’m doing my damn job!” he said. 

His words hit you like a physical blow. Your mouth fell open in soft shock. Tears even stung in your eyes.

“Reminding me of Michael,” you nodded in understanding. “Okay. Wouldn’t be the first time this month.”

Beau bristled; he didn’t think it was right for you to compare him to your bastard ex-boyfriend.

“Hey, that’s not fair,” he said.

"This isn't fair," you retorted, gesturing between you both with a pointed finger.

Beau's lips pursed. His jaw clenched as he averted his gaze, so he could better hold his tongue before he said something he might regret.

Too late...

Eventually, you stopped waiting for him to answer you.

Beau saw how you withdrew, both from the argument, and from him with a sigh. You crossed your arms and held yourself when you headed into the bathroom.

He internally deflated. Shit. 

Something told him that if Emily wasn’t occupying the only other sleeping place in this apartment, he’d have been booted out of your room.

Things were tense the next morning. 

Beau agreed to take Emily to school, since you picked her up yesterday. You gave Emily a hug before they left, and you had even packed her a good lunch for school. You knew she had to do that herself whenever she stayed at her dad’s place. 

And yes, while the teen was old enough and responsible enough to pack her own lunch, you just wanted to make sure she knew you were still in her corner, no matter what friction might be happening between you and her dad.

You and Beau parted ways that morning with tension still lying between you, just like it had been last night in your bed. After they headed out, you found yourself at a loss, feeling unbalanced.

You didn’t have a class today until noon, so you took the morning to truly think about what was happening here. Whatever Beau’s case was about, you knew it was serious and complex, and he didn’t want to talk about it, likely for your safety. 

All you could hope was that Beau, Jenny, Poppernak and the rest of the team were able to solve it quickly. You even began to wonder if it was fair of you to add stress on Beau’s shoulders when he was dealing with something that was clearly taking all of his energy, and making him distant with both you and Emily.

Blowing out a big sigh, you supposed you could try to be gracious one more time. You braved the annoyance of putting real clothes on—a blouse and work casual pants, as you later would have to go in to work. 

You first headed over to the precinct with your purse on one shoulder and a plastic bag hanging from your other hand. 

You entered the double doors and walked in past the reception desk, then through the bullpen. You noticed right away that there was a commotion going on, as you saw Jenny leading in a man handcuffed behind his back. You almost bumped into him as they crossed you in the hall. 

The man was tall and lean, with pieces of his coiffed dark hair falling over his sharp blue eyes. They found you, and his lips curved into a smile after he gave you a once-over. 

His smile made a shiver of unease prickle down your spine as you froze. 

“Keep moving, Casey,” Jenny ordered.

Beau was right behind her, though the moment he took in the exchange between you and Casey, Beau stalked forward and stepped in between, urging the other man forward with a firm hand on his shoulder and a stern look of warning.

Jenny and Popernak led the suspect into a room for questioning, while Beau’s hand found the small of your back and guided you into his office. 

He closed the door behind him and carded a hand through his hair. He let out a subtle breath and turned to face you. He didn’t look all that happy to see you, just tense. 

“What’s going on?” he asked. “Sorry, we’re a bit busy today.”

Before you could speak, he added, “Matter of fact, it’d be better if you called first next time.”

Your mouth snapped shut. Your brows knitted together in a glare, and you handed him the bag you carried in. It contained a nice hot sandwich and fries from Tonya’s diner, made by Donno himself.

“Here,” was all you said, before you walked out the door of the sheriff’s office. 

Beau watched you go in surprise, with the word “wait” halting on his tongue. His gaze traveled down to the open bag between his hands, and sure enough, the smell of a good meal hit him, making his mouth water and his stomach twist with guilt all at once.

Damn it, he sighed. But lunch (and a phone call to you) would have to wait. He set it down on his desk and hastened down the hall to where their suspect, in what had been dubbed the “Fall Murders,” had finally been arrested and held for questioning.

Casey Sanderson; ex-military, dishonorably discharged, an abusive mother in his childhood and an unstable mind following two tours in the Middle East had left him unbalanced, according to his friends from his unit.

His DNA was also discovered under the fingernails of the most recent victim, Christina Mendez. Two weeks ago, her body was found behind a gas station late at night, her neck carved by a knife, and bruises littering her arms and body. 

Beau entered the room where Poppernak and Jenny had already gotten started on the suspect. 

“Casey here has lawyered up,” Jenny informed him, though her gaze never left the suspect. They were forced to wait on further questioning until the lawyer arrived.  

“Ah, the Sheriff of Nottingham,” Casey remarked. His cool blue eyes watch with a measure of nonchalance as Beau stood behind his deputies, arms crossed. 

Casey nodded up at him. “Was that your girl out there in the hall?”

Beau’s formerly calm face turned to stone. 

Casey’s lips curved slightly. 

“Good taste,” was all he said.

His tone was mild, yet it still made Beau’s skin crawl. And his rage built, igniting his blood. He did everything he could to temper that wildfire into a simmer that rolled just underneath his skin. 

Jenny and Poppernak knew him well enough to see what he was thinking. Both of them watched him with hidden wariness and concern, especially when Beau stepped forward, placing one hand on the table between him and Casey Sanderson. Darkened green eyes met cool blue. 

“Where were you on November 2 between 10:00 p.m. and 4:00 a.m.?” Beau asked.

Beau was irate when, a few days later, the ADA prosecutor called him at his office first thing in the morning to inform him of the latest news on Casey Sanderson. 

“What the hell do you mean he got out on bail yesterday?” Beau snapped. “We have DNA evidence.”

“He claims that he and Miss Mendez had consensual sex earlier that evening, in the women’s bathroom, of all excuses, but they parted ways after leaving the movie theater,” said the ADA. “As you know, we couldn’t put him directly at the gas station near the theater, where she was found. The defense lawyer convinced the judge that the remaining evidence is too circumstantial to warrant holding him without bail.”

Fuckin’ hell, Beau let out an angry breath, carding his fingers through his hair. He hung up with the ADA moments later. His cell phone lighting up with a notification drew his attention, even perking him up a little, but he deflated when he saw it wasn’t from you. 

Just Carla letting him know that she’d take Emily for the weekend this time, just like he’d asked. He felt bad for it, but he needed more time to concentrate on his cases. Sanderson was just one of many now, and Poppernak and Jenny couldn’t handle it all.

Beau tried to rub his tired face back to life, but once again, he thought of you. He still felt guilty, and he still missed you. Missed you like hell. 

He hesitantly picked up his phone and he called you, hoping you wouldn’t let it go to voicemail again.

Admittedly, you were being a bit petty. You were screening your boyfriend’s calls. 

However, if Beau Arlen wanted to see you, then he could get his ass up off that office chair and come to you this time. 

You were tired of giving out olive branches left and right. You didn’t deserve to be the one left waiting and wringing your hands, wondering if this man even cared about you…as much as you’d come to care about him. 

So you ignored his call—the second one today, and you prepared for your afternoon classes. 

Even after your classes were done for the day, you graded a batch of papers to get them out of the way. As much as you couldn’t wait to go home, you didn’t feel like doing more work when you got there.

Another hour and a half ticked by before you finished grading and inputting the percentages into the online gradebook. Then, with a weary sigh, you grabbed your purse and your workbag and headed down to the garage where your car was parked. 

You always tried to park in the same spot for faculty, in a space closest to the elevators. You found your car and put down your workbag in the backseat first. When you closed the door, you saw a figure in the window’s reflection. 

You gasped and turned around. A man covered your mouth as a scream tore from your throat and echoed loudly in the garage.

He shoved you hard against the car door, but thanks to a few self-defense lessons from both Jenny and Beau, the heel of your hand came up on reflex. 

It hit the man up the bridge of his nose with a crack. He shouted and reared back. When he pulled his hand back, it came away bloody. And you finally recognized him as the man you saw at the precinct: tall, thin, dark brown hair, angry blue eyes now staring back at you.

“Fucking bitch,” he chuckled. “Got some fight in you.”

Fear was a living thing inside you, but you somehow managed to force your body to move.

You scrambled for the driver’s door of your car and tried to open it, but the man shoved it closed, then grabbed at you once again. His forearm pressed across your chest and pinned you there.

The edge of a knife poised at your throat, making you freeze in panic. The blade teased your skin, hot breath against your cheek.

“Freeze, Casey!” came an angry shout. Both you and your attacker recognized that voice. Your breath was stifled in hope. Casey frowned in frustration. 

Just over his right shoulder, you saw Beau holding his gun aimed at the man who held you. His brows were drawn together, his entire body poised to react to whatever Casey did next. 

“Turn around, hands up high, and drop that knife,” Beau ordered. 

Casey’s mouth edged into a humorless smile. “Evening, Sheriff. Up for a date night?” 

He slid the blade just slightly against your skin, enough to draw a line of blood, and make you inhale sharply. 

“I’m not gonna say it again! Turn around and drop the goddamn knife,” Beau snapped. “Try anything else, and I’ll make a third hole in your spine.”

Letting out a breath through his nose, Casey’s façade of nonchalance fell. He released you, stepping back slowly with his hands held in the air. The knife slipped out of his hand.

Beau stalked towards him before it even clattered to the floor. You were frozen where you stood pressed against your car.

You watched Beau stow away his gun and wrangle Casey’s hands behind his back, slapping on some tight handcuffs, and getting the man onto his stomach on the dusty ground, his cheek pressed hard to the asphalt. Beau held him down with one hand while he fished for his cell in his pocket to call for backup on the arrest. 

Beau’s head lifted to catch your eyes. He gave you a reassuring look. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve got this,” he said.

His voice was warm for you, steady. When you nodded, it was a jerky motion as you held a hand to your racing heart. You then raised it shakily up to your neck and swiped at the trail of blood there. The wound itself was minor, just a sting, but it was a cold reminder of what could’ve been.

The wait for Jenny and the rest of the team was agonizing. 

Beau kept Casey on the ground, facing away from you. Eventually you were able to peel yourself off the side of your car and climb into the driver’s seat, just so you wouldn’t have to keep looking at the man who attacked you.

Jenny and Poppernak arrived within half an hour to haul Casey up and drag him into Jenny's SUV. That allowed Beau to return to your car and tap on the window of the driver’s side. You jolted and looked over to find Beau’s reassuring face. 

“They took him. It’s okay,” he said, only a little muffled through the door. You nodded and gestured for him to step back, so you could open the door. 

The moment you were on your feet and out of the car, you went into Beau’s waiting embrace. Hot tears welled up in your eyes. You hiccupped and struggled to breathe steady, but Beau held you tight and soothed a hand over your hair, down your back.

“It’s over, honey, I promise. I promise I’ve gotcha,” he said quietly in your ear. You nodded and let his warmth seep into you. 

“I’ll take you home, okay?” he said. “We’ll get your car tomorrow.”

You sucked in a trembling breath. 

“Please,” you agreed. “Take me home.”

“Am I going to have to testify in court?” you asked. 

Beau held you close in your bed later that night. You two had dinner together and had been rewatching old episodes of Friends to take both of your minds off what happened today.

Beau reluctantly nodded in answer to your question. 

“The ADA will probably ask you to, but…you can say no,” he said. “I’ll back you, whatever you decide.”

“No, I want to,” you said, even though the thought made you tremble inside. “That animal belongs in a cage.”

Beau silently agreed with you. He admired you for your vehemence, and your courage to even say that you wanted to testify against Casey. 

Beau laid a gentle kiss above your brow and continued to rub your back. You both had the blankets up to your hips with a bowl of popcorn balanced between his thigh and yours. He moved it over onto his nightstand so he could curl you more securely against him. You raised your head to consider him thoughtfully.  

“Why were you on campus?” you asked, as it finally occurred to you. “How did you know I was still there?”

“I thought I could catch you after your last class, so I went up to your office to see you,” he said. “But you weren’t there. A receptionist was on her way out though. She saw you head out a little while before, so I booked it back down to the garage to see if you were there.”

He was never more glad to heed his gut instinct. That was when he’d heard you scream.

The memory made his insides clench. Beau shook his head against the rest of it. He let out a heavy sigh.

“I’m so damn sorry for what happened. You gotta know, all this time, this is what I was trying to prevent,” he said, with pain written on his face. “But I’m also sorry that I shut you out. You and Em. I just didn’t know how else to keep you out of this. After what happened this summer…I wasn’t gonna let that happen again.”

With tears stinging in your eyes, you nodded. You knew now that he hadn’t meant to hurt you.

Beau Arlen truly was a good man, and that was hard to come by.

You shifted so that you were propped up on your elbow, resting on his pillow. You stroked his cheek. 

“I understand. And I’m sorry too. I know that your job can be difficult, and stressful, and sometimes dangerous,” you said. “But I need you to talk to me. If we’re going to do this for the long haul, we need to communicate. I can’t be left in the dark like that again, Beau. I just can’t…"

It was your turn to sigh. "It feels too close to what I went through with Michael. Being lied to. Being told what I wanted to hear, never actually knowing what was going on, until it was too late.”

You admitted that last part with a hitch of emotion in your voice, meeting Beau’s eyes. His were full of remorse.

“I know. Again, I’m sorry. I promise, I’m gonna work on it,” he said, nodding. He planned to make it up to his daughter too. He would talk to her tomorrow.

You drew his attention back with the hand caressing his cheek.

“I just don’t want anything like that to happen to us. I love you too much,” you said. A tear worked its way down your cheek. “Beau, I love you.”

Beau grasped your hand, holding it to his cheek. His furrowed expression eased, and his lips slowly turned up into a smile. A true one, hinting at all the charm that was unique to this man. You’d missed that smile. 

He dried your cheek with a gentle hand. 

“Well that’s good,” he said. “Because I don’t think I’ve loved you more than I do right now.”

You laughed through more of your tears, and let him guide you into a tender kiss. One sparked another, and more, each one more searing than the next.

Beau’s fingers disappeared into your hair, just as your legs tangled themselves between his when he rolled you over, and underneath him, where he continued putting actions behind his words. 

He gave you a promise that night, one that you’d both try to hold yourselves to in the morning.

AN: Ahh, I'm soft. This feels like the more "official" end to Take Me Home, though I'd be open to come back to these two if new ideas hit me. But until then, let me know what you thought of this one! 😘

Keep Reading:

Here's a drabble set directly after this one-shot. It's called A Crime of Passion:

Summary: When Beau Arlen decides to “make it up to you,” he’s damn thorough.

▶️ Next Story: A Crime of Passion

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Take Me Home Masterlist

Big Sky Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

For those of you with tag lists, Tumblr is doing a weird thing again with tags. I had to separate them 5 at a time for the hyperlinks to work on each blog! So annoying lol.

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007

@wincastifer @iamsapphine @roseblue373 @brianochka

@branj19 @globetrotter28 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @ades106 @charmed-asylum

@waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady

@leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @emily-winchester @xiphoidbones @skoveu

@nyotamalfoy @kmc1989 @deans-baby-momma @tabsluvsu @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

@deanwanddamons @anticxrrupt @lacilou @deans-daydream @deans-spinster-witch

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @iprobablyshipit91

@ladysparkles78 @solariklees @lostin-jensenseyes @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731

@curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @chernayawidow

#A Good Man Is Hard to Find #beau arlen #beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x you #beau arlen x female reader #beau arlen smut #Beau Arlen series #TMH-verse #Take Me Home #big sky #Emily Arlen #jensen ackles characters #big sky season 3 #Jenny Hoyt #jensen ackles #zepskies writes

[acesofspadess]

Living ( A live sequel)

a/n: omgggg I know it been forever since this story but im back with the sequel!!!! there is gonna be a few chapters before were back on track but that just means you guys will see me on your timelines everyday ☺️

“Hi I’m Maia Quinn, and I'm the Season 23 winner of The Voice!"

Mid July

“Hello Team Niall.” Niall introduced as they all waved and greeted him back. “Well, I've got a bit of news for you. Because of my concert schedule, I actually won't be in town for knockout rehearsals.” Everyone was shocked… and rightfully so. “Because I won't be there, I've chosen another coach to come in and mentor you guys for rehearsal.” Everyone started to freak out wondering who on earth it might be. 

“And they have been in your place before so I think they’ve got exactly what you need.”

The scene changed to the all too familiar practice room with an empty directors chairs. The sounds of steps progressively got louder until the special person appeared. 

“I'M BACK!” 

But let's not get ahead of ourselves. Let's rewind a bit.

~~~~~~

A day or two after The Voice Finale

“Hi I’m Maia Quinn, and I'm the Season 23 winner of The Voice, and we're hanging out with Rob on Front Row Live.”

“Go with me.” Niall moaned into your mouth as you straddled him. “Where?” you question kissing down his neck. “Boston. I know it's last minute and we’d leave in the morning-” you shut him up with a kiss and a roll of your hips, his hands tightening against your thighs. “Just wake me up an hour before we leave.”

Sitting at the desk of you and Niall’s shared hotel room the morning of May 26th  you had early interviews to get through before you were meant to go to the festival. You looked over the camera to see Niall already looking at you.

“Maia congratulations. What a night you had a few nights ago.” Rob praised and you smiled adjusting your airpod. “I am super excited for you and your career and your future. Especially because you're starting so young. You have enough time to kind of like, continue to evolve, and understand your voice; learn a lot more about yourself throughout this process. Talk to me about this process of your experience here on the voice and how you've evolved as a vocalist and a performer.” The interview was more than you could ever imagine. 

“Now your relationship with Niall this season has had fans going crazy. From the after performance hugs to the duet, and the after party, what can you tell us about that?”

You saw Nialls face peak over the laptop screen and stayed neutral. “Niall has been the most supportive and very encouraging. He has become one of my best friends through this whole journey. I lost a lot of my confidence during the pandemic unfortunately. It made me think that I would never be able to do things that I certainly could do and Niall- all these years later- has been there to remind me that I probably can do them, and then make me do it. So our friendship and relationship has been so important to me. He is my best friend across the charts and he’d hate me for saying this, but I wouldn't be here without him.” 

“Last question before we go. Is there anything we can look forward to seeing soon? Maybe another EP?”

You smiled glad you were able to share some information on what was coming next. “All I'll say now is, look for me on stage back home.” you winked dramatically knowing those who would get it would get it.”

“That's amazing, I'll definitely keep my eyes peeled. It was so great having you on. I hope to see you in person soon.”

“Bye!” 

``````````````

View comments

User10 i'm actually really happy she won

User2 wait…Slane is in Ireland…..

User6 I just learned she had an EP…. what?!?!?!?

Being at Boston Calling with him

“Boston, Massachusetts, how you doing?” he asked the crowd after he finished ‘Heaven’. The loud response made him smile excitedly. “Holy shit! This is crazy.” you face palmed knowing he was going to slip up sooner or later. “Thank you all so much for coming out to see me. I really appreciate it.” they cheered again as he sipped his water. You watched as he looked at the amount of people and a smile formed on your face.

 “This is uhm- this is actually my first ever Festival.” he let out a breath at the realisation. “I've definitely been drunk at a few.” you laughed at him with the rest of the crowd. “But I've never played at any and for that reason I'm absolutely shitting myself.” he said looking at you knowing you would calm him, and him seeing you laugh did just the trick. 

“But thank you for being here. I know some of you guys have been queuing for years.” he looked around at the signs “My girlfriend showed me this earlier ‘i travelled four thousand miles to be here from Brazil’ your eyes went wide at the declaration and the deafening screams were present. He subtly looked in your direction and saw your reaction, his worry diminished as he saw you smiling making him smile. “Makes you feel bad from coming just down the road doesn't it? ‘I came from round New York’.” he mocked, “awe who cares.” he laughed with them and you hid a big smile behind your hands. 

~~~~

You walked the same route you came flashing your pass when you reached the gate and made your way in to see Niall. When you saw him you squealed and ran over to him. He turned when he heard you and caught you in his arms as you wrapped your legs around his waist and he spun you both around hands on the swell of your bum.

“I'm so proud of you!” you screamed and he laughed before he was kissing you passionately. It was quick as many more pecks through giggles followed. “I can not explain to you how happy i am.” he whispered in shock as you were sitting in the trailer behind the stage and he was getting changed. “You should be so happy, my love. That was incredible, and I am so so proud of you.” he smiled at you before grabbing your hand and kissing the ring on it. “You make me so happy, baby girl.” you melted at his words and stood up to kiss him softly. “And you make me the happiest girl, Ni.”

You surprising Niall at his Zane Lowe interview and him outing you 

You knew Niall was disappointed when you told him you wouldn't be able to make it to his Zane Lowe interview today. He was really excited for this one and wanted you to be there. It was only a few days later that you flew from Boston down to LA for the interview. You were working on last minute stuff for the announcement today and you were nowhere close to done when he was getting ready to leave.

“I'm sorry love.” you kissed his pout away as you both stood by the door of his  LA house. “I know, it’s okay. I know why you can’t make it, and for that I am so very proud.” he melted his lips against yours as your hands went to the curls on the back of his neck and he wrapped his went straight to your bum.

~~~

Niall was watching Zane play his songs and the guitar with a big smile a few hours after he left. “There are some pretty songs on this record bro.” Zane complimented as he switched playing from ‘The Show’ to ‘You could start a cult’. You who had just made it into the studio to surprise Niall were standing behind the glass watching him, waiting for him to notice. 

“Thank you very much.'' He cut through Zanes music. “This one kills me.” Zane admitted as Niall caught on to what he was playing. “Yeah.” he cheered Zane on softly, finally noticing you. You saw his smile widened and you waved softly. “You Could Start A Cult.” he named distractedly, still looking at you as if he looked away you would disappear. 

~~~

“Kingdoms fighting over you,” Niall continued. “I think that like they’re the ones- that could have very easily been, ‘ i like waking up beside you and you're my favourite person.” he joked easily. “But ‘you could start a war’.” you shook your head at his lyrical genius. “Do you ever crack yourself up with it?”

‘Yeah it was something silly at first but now everyone's obsessed with it. It started with me and my girlfriend now, when we met we would watch crime shows together over facetime,” he exposed and you chuckled at his laugh.

‘You say girlfriend now, sorry if i'm over stepping but..” zane trailed off

“No,” he shrugged off looking at you, who nodded, “she was not my girlfriend at the time, she is now, is what that meant.”

“So did she not know the song was for her?”

“She didn't know any song was for her- or about her I should say. The road from when we met to now has been a very dark windy tunnel, but we made it to the other end.”

“That's beautiful Niall, truly.” You smiled at him agreeing with Zane.

“This was the last song on the record that we wrote.” Niall confessed, and you wondered why. “Why, what was missing?” and without hesitation he pointed to you, “her.” Zane looked to where he was pointing and you waved happily at him. He waved back to you just as happy before turning to Niall with a face of shock. “No?” he gasped and Niall laughed, throwing his head back. “Yeah, I know. Way out of my league.” he watched you shake your head with an eye roll and he couldn't stop the smile from gracing his face.

“I could’ve gone and did what I did with the rest of the record and put BV’s all over it and strings and that was my plan - and John just said to me- because we we were not talking at the time…” he pointed between you and him, “...this is your message to,” he paused, ‘“ her’ keep it that way. Just you and your guitar and your feelings.”

And while there's much much more… you’ll see that soon

~~~~~~~~~~

taglist: comment if you want to be added!!

@youcan-nolonger-run @ravenclawdirectioner@luxiorchive @maeflowers653  @purple9950 @forkmeniall @nathalielovesonedirection @hopsydaisy @shortie-niya 

#nialler #cute niall #niall horan x reader #niall horan fluff #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan #niall horan smut #niall fanfic #niall one shot #one direction #solo niall #niall 1d #niall james horan #niall horan fic #niall the show #niall horan x y/n #niall imagine #niall horan x you #the show 2024

[lesharl-eclair]

ferwis fic recs

25,288 fics in f1 rpf and only 75 ferwis fics. truly a rarepair for the ages.

this is a list of *the* literature to read if you are even vaguely intrigued by the premise :) (i am also aware that the 5 people this will appeal to have probably already devoured all of these fics end to end many many times) (but it's ok!! right??? righ t ????)

all fics below the cut; if you enjoyed these fics, please show the authors comment and kudo love; should you be the author of a fic that's here, and don't want to be here, please reach out to me and your wish is my command :)

Amen by sirius (M, 9.1k)

Spygate. Reimagined. With sex.

& (Amen) by sirius (M, 6.6k)

Retirement. Reimagined. With sex.

OK so this is basically what i think about every waking hour. every single minute. Amen was written 2 0 1 5 and it's so damn incredible i have only found a few other pieces that match it in terms of voicing and structure and literary genius. the toxicity is left to ferment and it is gorgeous. literally ahead of its time. look:

"Old Testament, he thinks. Fernando is an Old Testament God, piled high with fury and jealousy and fire and brimstone and needing someone to beg mercy just so that he can refuse them. 

A god so good that there's nobody else you'd need to worship."

THIS IN 2015. so so so incredible.

the sequel (?) is even richer, more nuanced, more developed. lewis and loyalty and fernando and lots and lots of questioning. the author has the voices down to a tee in both pieces and the dialogue especially is mindblowing. i come back to this so often because it's their story, and it's told so richly and lavishly.

***

In Search of the Traveling Nude by Anonymous (M, 4.5k)

Fernando didn't like sharing. He was not going to let a nude of Lewis get out of his grasp when he'd spent millions on the first three. If that means threatening someone and traveling for most of his winter break in search of it, so be it. Unfortunately for him, Lewis's final nude has to go through many people before he can finally get it.

kinkmeme prompt fill. possessive fernando alonso is a story for the ages. look:

"Fernando was a selfish man. He didn’t like others having what was his.

And Lewis, inexplicably – even if Lewis didn’t know himself – was his."

it's not a stretch to imagine this premise, every single detail is so well-imagined and the people nando meets (?!), all the nuances in dynamics etc are handled with so much love and care. valtteri and seb is just perfection. lewis is also the most oblivious person to walk planet earth and i am living for it.

***

The Thirst Trap Curse by @seafoampearlygirl (no warnings, 1.9k)

Fernando realises the power of thirst traps in vanquishing his enemies, but the magic doesn't work quite the way he planned.

this fic is so so dear to me because it hooked me on nando fics. this verges on crackfic (actually it is, what am i talking about) and it is delightful. a tasty, unhinged little morsel. the title does the talking here i think!! but i just want to say that every single scene is so unexpectedly rich. there's so much packed into so little, so you get pleasant little surprises at every turn. also look at this dialogue. lOOK.

"Lewis was silent for a moment. Then he said 'How many thirst traps are we talking?'

'Thirty-five.'

'THIRTY-FIVE??' Lewis turned to Fernando, outraged. Fernando was impassive. "Man, I only have two nipples. They're not that exciting."

'They could be. I have some ideas.'"

***

it's more than i can bear: this interminable want, turning and turning. by Anonymous (m, 2k)

George laughs. It's an ugly sound. When Fernando looks over, his eyes are dry. “Were,” he says. “You were the exception.”

kinkmeme prompt fill. we close off this list with a fic that gives me chills every single time i read it. it's not even ferwis. just ferwis as a concept, and yet. i literally don't know how to coherently respond to this still. the last line still makes me fall apart every time i read it.

fernando and george, and the concept of lewis. and mind games. so much within 2k words that it's devastating to read.

***

if you enjoyed this, or if i missed any fic, let me know in the tags :) drop me an ask mayhaps if you would like more fic recs for any ship, and i will try my best to give timely unqualified opinions <3

#formula 1 #f1 #fernando alonso #lewis hamilton #george russell #ferwis #claire rambles #claire's fic recs

[tremendouskoalachild]

looks like no acolyte trailer this week but i wanna talk about it, so whatever let's go over all the shots from the one leaked in april 2023

sorry for horrible quality but in my defense. literally not my fault

1. Jedi Temple

The trailer opens with several shots of Jedi kids in a lesson, in what I assume to be the Coruscant Jedi temple:

The alien looks to me like a Tarsunt, similar to this background sequels guy. For now I'll assume these kids aren't important characters in the story and mostly serve to introduce the Jedi and/or Lee-Jung Jae's character, who is speaking over these and following shots:

He says: “Close your eyes. Your eyes can deceive you. We must not trust them. The Force is powerful. It is power we must respect.”

(I assume all these lines and shots are part of the same scene and it isn't some clever editing done for the trailer. It sounds like a reasonable introductory lesson for little kids, is coherent, and the locations match. Also what would be the point.)

There is also a single shot later in the trailer that seems to be in the same room, except with older Jedi, presumably Padawans:

The one that interests me in this shot is the one I assume to be a female Zabrak with light hair (on the right up front). She appears in other parts of the trailer as well.

2. Cantina confrontation

This sequence starts during the latter half of LJJ‘s voiceover and is partially intercut with the Temple shots. We see Amandla Stenberg‘s character walk through a public space (market place? spaceport?) and into what seems to be a cantina/restaurant, with patrons sitting at tables and eating or chatting:

There are many aliens, I think I saw an Iktotchi and/or Ovissian. If anyone knows what that thing slurping soup and the two sitting next to it are please tell me.

The voiceover ends over that last shot of Carrie-Anne Moss' character, there is a brief cut to black, and then we get a short fight between AS and CAM. It mostly looks like AS is attacking with her knife and martial arts skills while CAM deflects, before finally Force-pushing her away. We then get a first close look at Amandla Stenberg's character without her cloak:

The character's hairstyle was described by her actor as "clay-rolled dreadlocks, a North African reference".

At this point we are halfway through the trailer and the Lucasfilm logo comes up. Shots from what seems to be the same scene come up later in the trailer too:

AS is of course playing the main character and CAM is part of the main cast, so I assume this is an important scene, possibly the introduction to at least one of the two characters.

It seems a safe assumption that CAM is a Jedi master, and imo at least possible that she is the character mentioned in the show's synopsis (“A former Padawan reunites with her Jedi Master to investigate a series of crimes, but the forces they confront are more sinister than they ever anticipated.”) - if so, this could be the unhappy reunion before they reluctantly work together. AS seems to know exactly where she's going, while CAM appears to be waiting for her, either because she invited her/agreed to a meeting set up by AS or a third party, or because she sensed AS coming.

(Of course, it could be an entirely different situation. Several outlets have reported that LJJ is playing the former master in question, which seems reasonable, since he is the male lead of the show.)

#the acolyte #man this will look really stupid if they release the exact same trailer online tomorrow. anyway i wanna procrastinate today #i didn't want to ramble too much but some extra observations are in the image descriptions #i desperately need to see amandla stenberg's character in hd. what a look oh my god #part 2 to follow #though the second half is more of a montage of unconnected shots and less to analyze with any clarity

[ikatako38]

Life Stuff

So I’ve been struggling with motivation and time lately, between college finals and a sharp decline in my mental health. I know I made it sound like everything was going great in the last update, and it was, but then it wasn't, and then it was again.. and the back and forth has just been exhausting, not to mention time-consuming.

I was supposed to have a little surprise sneak peek for you all on Monday, but when I went into my planning document to retrieve the scene I had written for a future chapter, it was gone. When I checked the revision history of the document, all the versions from last month to December 2022 are missing---nearly a year's worth. It seems like all the edits within that year's time have been lost. Thankfully, I had all the basic planning for the story done before that year of edits that got deleted, but I still lost all of my newer edits. I'm still so perplexed about how this could have happened, and it's causing me a lot of distress, especially because at this point I'm not even sure exactly what I've lost. The whole point of that document was so that I could write down an idea and then forget about it until I needed it again to clear up space in my head for new ideas.

It's also finals week, so I have that going for me, too. I'm not planning on having time for any work on TPWCH until after my last final of December 6th.

Poll Details

Even then, I've been having problems with motivation lately. Winter break should be a good rest for me, but I still worry about how much I'll be able to write. The other day, I got an idea for a Squidmas special. While in the TPWCH universe, it would take us to different time periods, allowing us to finally meet all of the prequel and sequel characters I've been teasing (including Three's old friend group and Tsuku's friend group). It would essentially be set in the future but with an extended flashback to Three's childhood. And we get to see Three and Eight as parents! (And maybe even some others?) 👀 I'm so excited to share these new characters with you, and that excitement might just be the extra little push I need to get myself motivated again.

Or, with all the extra time I have, I should be able to stop procrastinating and finally get a good start of Chapter #22-Part2. Ultimately, I'm going to make my own decision on whether to write the Squidmas special or not, but I'd still like to hear your input!

I also haven't forgotten about other promises I've made having to do with TPWCH--like more development of the Dark Three AU, the 300-kudos bonus, the Part 3 cover, etc. Just working slowly. Thank you as always for your patience and understanding!

#tako’s updates #this place we called home #this way we found love #this thing we called freedom

[reidscanehand]

Sixty Percent

A Sequel to Twenty Percent

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAUfem!Reader

Category: Hurt/Comfort/Angst/Fluff

TW: eating disorders, eating disorder recovery, very frank language and discussions of body dysmorphia, discomfort with weight gain, fighting with family, worry about weight loss, and mentions of pregnancy

Key: A/N = Aunt’s Name; N/N = Nephew’s Name; S/N = Sister’s Name

This has been a long time coming. In terms of my own recovery, I’m not quite there yet, and I certainly don’t have as constant a support as living with a boyfriend like Spencer Reid, but things are better. I hope the best for you if this is something with which you’re also struggling. This is just three little scenes during Y/N’s recovery - all of them deeply personal and based on real life events (this is a very self-indulgent fic). 

Hope you like it and all the love to you xx 

~ Things tend to scream when dying. - Amalie Lee ~

You’re so quiet in the entryway to the kitchen that when Spencer turns and sees you standing there, he’s certain you’ve been there for quite a while. You’re not looking at him, but clearly have the intention of saying something to him. He decides to give you the time you still clearly need to say whatever you’re going to say and turns back to dry the last of the dishes from dinner. 

“Um,” you finally begin to speak, “I know that, um...”

You trail off as Spencer slowly turns to fully face you, “Something wrong, bun?”

“Well...no, I guess...I-I guess not,” you decide. “I mean it’s just that....we just ate dinner.”

“Yeah,” Spencer agrees vaguely, leaning back against the counter to keep himself from rushing to your side. It had been a good dinner, or so he thought, at least. The two of you made it together. Nothing special, just tempeh, some roasted sweet potatoes, and crispy brussels sprouts. Simple, but nourishing, as all of your meals needed to be. “Did you not like it?”

“No, that’s not what-what I’m saying,” you quickly correct and you shake your head so vehemently and look so unsure of yourself that Spencer wants to curse himself for saying something like that. “It’s just that...um...I’ve been having this...craving.”

You almost whisper the last word, as though terrified to say it at all. Spencer tries not to smile, tries not to show how overjoyed he is that you’ve recognized a craving at all. 

“Oh?” he asks jovially, trying to encourage you without sounding condescending, just as he does whenever you comment on something food related. 

“Y-yes,” you stammer out, clearly determined to tell him. “For...granola.”

“Granola? Like...like the cereal?” he clarifies. 

“Um, yes,” you continue, scratching behind your ear and still not quite meeting his eyes. “And I know it’s not breakfast time and...and I don’t really n-need it, but I really want some and I was wondering if we could...run to the store and get it?”

He tries not to be overly enthusiastic. You’ve begged him not to baby you and even your therapist told him to not overwhelm you with praise. But he’s so proud - so fucking proud - that you’ve not only recognized a food craving, but that you’re brave enough to ask him to honor it. He grabs his car keys from the hook next to the doorway as he crosses to you, wrapping an arm around you and pressing a kiss to your temple. 

“Of course we can, my love,” he whispers, squeezing your hip as he does, hoping you can feel how ecstatic he is about this.

And it’s not incredible, really. It’s cereal - relatively healthy cereal at that. But as you pick a brand that isn’t weirdly packed with protein or overtly advertised as something healthy and even grab flavored almond milk to go with it - it feels like a huge shift. 

And he isn’t condescending or overly babying about it. But as the two of you sit, knee to knee, watching tv over (miraculously unmeasured) bowls of granola and almond milk, Spencer can’t help the proud grin that sits on his face. It’s been a long year into eating disorder recovery with you. A long and, at times, absolutely terrifying year, but Spencer wouldn’t trade a moment of it, especially when it leads to moments like this. 

~~~

One step forward, three steps back, so the saying goes. And nothing feels more like several steps back than dinners with your family. It isn’t that you have a bad family, you don’t. In fact, they’re lovely people and, really, truly, other than their strange lack of sensitivity surrounding your recovery, they’re a fantastic family. They aren’t pushy about your private life, they’re proud of the strides you’ve made in the FBI. All good, wonderful things. But it’s as though your need for support in recovery just doesn’t compute to them. Especially to your aunt. 

Your Aunt A/N, who’s by far the pushiest person Spencer’s met in your family, doesn’t seem to get the required sensitivity of dealing with eating disorders at all. If he puts half a mind to profiling the situation, which he tries not to do out of respect to your family, Spencer could easily wager that a lot of her comments come out of living through the toxic environment of 90s and 2000s dieting culture. But it doesn’t really excuse the behavior. 

It’s your nephew’s third birthday and you and Spencer make the drive to visit your family and celebrate. It’s actually been quite fun; the road trip was a delight, really, and every second with N/N and your family thus far has been really nice. But this dinner has been doomed form the start. You’d purchased a dress from a local vendor at an outdoor market in Philadelphia when the team had been stranded there on a case. Spencer thinks the off-white dress makes you look like a dream, you insist it makes you look like an ‘ugly potato’. 

He hopes that the positive effect of spending the evening celebrating N/N will brighten your spirits. Your nephew is, obviously, thrilled to be in the spotlight, an entire treasure hunt set up just for him in your sister’s backyard. There’s a huge buffet of food and balloons and gifts and cake. It’s all very happy and sweet. But then A/N just has to speak. 

“You’ve eaten an awful lot of watermelon tonight, Y/N,” she says unnecessarily as you finish off a small piece of the fruit from the buffet table. Even if he weren’t standing next to you, Spencer’s sure he could see your body freeze up as it does now. 

“Don’t you know that stuff is packed with sugar?” your Aunt A/N continues, laughing patronizingly. “I thought you were supposed to be the healthy one around here.” 

You smile tightly and look away from her, eyes brimming with tears. 

“I’ll be back,” you whisper, partially to Spencer and partially to yourself, hurrying away to the bathroom inside. There’s a pause then, a brief moment where everyone realizes what’s happened. Your mother, sister, and father both look to Spencer, N/N wriggles his way out of your brother-in-law’s arms and runs over to Spencer. 

“Where’s Aunt Y/N?” N/N asks sweetly, looking up at Spencer. 

Spencer kneels down to the three year old, “She just needed to-”

“She’s being silly, N/N,” Aunt A/N interrupts, “and dramatic as usual.” 

Spencer clenches his jaw and shuts his eyes determined not to say anything.

“Now, A/N,” your mother says gently, “you’re being unfair-”

“I’m being unfair?” A/N guffaws. “Y/N always does shit like this-”

“Please don’t curse in front of-”

“It’s not like he’ll remember any of this,” A/N cuts off your sister’s complaint. “And thank God he won’t remember his selfish Aunt Y/N being a crybaby because I-”

“Made a ridiculously rude and entirely unnecessary comment about her food,” Spencer states, standing abruptly and staring her down.

“Oh, come on,” A/N rolls her eyes dramatically. “She’s eaten, like, what? Half the watermelon-”

“She’s vegan,” Spencer corrects, his voice barely containing the anger burning in his throat. “There aren’t that many options for her here. No offense, S/N.”

“None taken,” your sister replies, smiling sadly. “I tried, but-”

“She liked the salad a lot,” Spencer reassures her before turning back to your aunt, “but she can’t eat any of the cake, so she ate some more of the watermelon. It shouldn’t matter to you what she eats any way. There’s absolutely no need for any commentary regarding what she eats.”

“Please, a little teasing about watermelon isn’t going to kill her,” A/N says far too casually for his liking. And Spencer tries, he really does, to keep in his temper. But he finds himself marching over to the woman, staring imperiously down at her.

“You’d think that, wouldn’t you? But it just so happens that Y/N is currently in eating disorder recovery and I know that may be hard to filter through your absurdly selfish brain, but that beautiful, incredible woman is working overtime every single day to relearn how best to fuel her body. If that means she gives into the craving of extra watermelon, then so be it. If that means she decides to eat nothing but cookies for a day, then so be it. If that means she quits being vegan and becomes a carnivore, then so be it. And it is your job to not say a single word about it. Any of it. Because, frankly, it’s none of your business,” Spencer explains as calmly as possible to the infuriating woman. 

“You’re not even a part of this family, young man,” A/N attempts to fight back. “What gives you the right-”

“Y/N is the love of my life,” Spencer interrupts her again, his voice raising only slightly. “Which gives me every right in the world to tell idiotic people like you to keep their mouths shut about her recovery. Understood?”

To his delight, A/N looks rather ashamed and deeply uncomfortable. She looks to the rest of the family for support, but seeing none, finally looks back up at him sheepishly.

“Fine,” she grits out. “I’m...sorry.”

“Good,” Spencer replies just as bitterly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go make sure you haven’t completely demolished the progress she’s been making.” 

Spencer begins to exit the yard into the house, stopped only by your father’s hand on his arm.

“Mr. Y/L/N,” Spencer says, “I’m sorry I-”

“I was just going to thank you,” your father whispers, “for telling off A/N. And for taking care of my little girl. Especially through...this recovery stuff. I know it’s hard and that...that we’re not the best at it....she’s-she’s very lucky to have you.”

“It’s an honor, sir,” Spencer assures him. “An absolute honor.”

~~~

Spencer Reid is, rather unequivocally, a genius. However, he finds it irritating when people mistake his genius for an inexistent form of omnipotence. Sometimes it’s because the fact that he feels it cheapens his knowledge a bit; cheapens behavioral science, too. But sometimes, like right now, he’s annoyed because he doesn’t actually possess any real form of omnipotence, but he does possess almost preternaturally good profiling abilities. Meaning that he knows that something is wrong with you, but he doesn’t know what it is. 

You are, by Spencer’s metrics - which are biased and he doesn’t care - the best girlfriend in the history of the world. He’s so proud of you for your progress in eating disorder recovery and delighted by every milestone the two of you have hit in your relationship. So, of course, him knowing you really well is expected, but, in moments like these where you’re clearly keeping a secret from him, it’s horrible because he knows absolutely everything about you and he knows that you’re being cagey and weird because you’re trying to keep a secret from him. It also doesn’t help that now, almost a year and a half into your relationship, he’s moved in with you. Which, in situtations such as these, means that Spencer has more awareness of you than ever before and yet - somehow - he still doesn’t know what’s going on. 

He truly might lose it. Especially as you wriggle out of his regular post-case hug and catch up with JJ to ride back to the station, leaving Spencer to ride back with Derek and Hotch. He tries, he really does, to keep it together, but he’s so out of his mind with worry that he can barely think straight. And there’s plenty of reason to worry. 

The truth is: you’ve gained weight. And he’s noticed, but it’s not a bad thing. It’s, in fact, a wonderful thing in eating disorder recovery. You’d gained some steady weight over the past year and a half, but you’ve recently put on a few pounds and - while Spencer wouldn’t care what size you are - he knows that it’s delicate balance, trying to sustain recovery and fight the havoc eating disorders can wreak on your mind. 

He tries to hold it together, he really does, but the second everyone’s back at the station, he grabs your hand and pulls you to a storage closet away from the main office without any preamble. He pulls you into the closet, turns on the small light (that doesn’t really help much), gently pushes your back against the door and anchors his hands on either side of your head. 

“Spencer, what are you-”

“What is going on, baby?” he asks sternly, looking down at you. “You have to tell me what’s going on.”

“S-spencer, I...” you trail off, looking away from him. He takes one of his hands from the door and tenderly tucks his index finger below your chin, tilting it to look at him.

“Are you breaking up with me?” he asks calmly. 

Your eyes grow wide, “No, of course not-”

“Are you angry with me?” he asks, running through the list of possibilities in his head. 

“Why would I be angry with-”

“There’s got to be something, Y/N,” Spencer cuts you off again, staring desperately into your eyes. “You’re keeping something from me and I don’t...I just want to make sure you’re alright.”

“Why wouldn’t I be alright, sweetheart?” you ask quietly, running your hands up his chest. “I’ve got you. I’m always alright.”

“Then what’s going on, honey? Because you’re keeping something from me. I know it,” Spencer searches your eyes, terrified when you open your mouth, only to close it again. He sighs, upset with what he needs to ask. “Is it...is it because you’ve...gained weight?”

Your eyes grow very large and he can feel your body tense up. 

“Now, sweetheart,” he starts moving his hands to cup your face sweetly, “you know that that’s just part of recovery and-”

“You noticed?” you ask quietly, tears brimming in your eyes. 

“Y-yes,” he answers uncertainly. “But I think it’s a wonderful thing. It is, right? It means you’re getting better and-”

“I’m pregnant,” you whisper, tears running down your cheeks. 

Now it’s Spencer’s turn to freeze and he can feel his eyes growing as big as saucers. 

You look up at him, eyes still filled with tears and uncertainty, “Spencer...is that...I mean, I’m sorry I didn’t....I-I wanted to make sure that I wasn’t just...I mean, when I lost my period before it was because I wasn’t e-eating and-and then I was feeling...and I just...I took some tests and then I went to the doctor and...I didn’t want to hug you at the crime scene because I thought you might f-feel it and...I’m...well...Spencer, please, say something.”

But Spencer can’t say anything. There’s too many emotions happening for him to even contemplate forming a sentence. His eyes are filling with tears and there’s a smile growing on his lips and he finally slightly tightens his grip on your face tilting it upwards for a kiss. 

He pulls away from the kiss and presses another to your hairline, leaning his forehead against yours a moment later, “You’re pregnant.”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Is that okay?”

“Is that okay?” he asks back, not even trying to fight his huge grin. “Y/N...that’s...this is the most amazing thing I’ve ever...I love you so much, you know that?”

“So you’re...we’re going to have a baby?”

“Do you want to have a baby?” he asks sincerely, thumbs rubbing away at the tears still running down your cheeks.

“I think so,” you admit softly, a small smile growing on your own face, “yeah.”

“Then it looks like we’re going to have a baby, Mrs. Reid,” he teases, pressing another kiss to your hairline. 

“That’s not my name,” you giggle, your own fingers working to wipe away at the tears Spencer didn’t even know were falling. 

“Not yet,” Spencer teases, pulling you into a hug, “but I think it’s got a really nice ring to it, don’t you?”

You laugh, but then you’re quiet, pulling back only to look up at Spencer seriously, “I know that it’s been hard, this recovery stuff, but I have to start eating for-for two now. And that means...” you trail off, but Spencer gets your meaning. He pulls you into an impossibly gentle embrace.

“I know, my love,” he whispers into your hair, “but we’ll do it just like we’ve already been doing it: one day at a time.” 

~ “The best thing about the future is that it comes one day at a time.” - Abraham Lincoln ~

~~~

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[youreobsessedwithtoomanyfandoms]

Don't Let Me Go (Part 3)

Words: 1660

Warnings: language, talk of alcohol/alcohol consumption, regret, Leon being a dick but for a kinda good reason, people may be mad at reader cause of what she does but whatever idc this is my fucking story, maybe ooc characters and probably bad writing

Resident Evil Masterlist Main Masterlist Join My Taglist

This also was originally written for my OC Tiffany (Whose info on her/original story will eventually be available on this account @imnotobsessedwfictionalchracters )

Leon and Hunnigan are PROBABLY OOC (as I suck at not being able to keep them from being OOC)

Actually find it fucking insane how long this thing is all together

This is it in multi-part form: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

This is it in one part form

Reader and Leon are partners with their job (have been since 2004/2005) and is insinuated to be around the same height as Leon

Not Proof-read and I think it can be seen every once and a while (I know you can see where my brain couldn't function how to write the scene so I just guessed and hoped for the best)

Can be read as its own story or as a sequel to You’re About To Lose The Best Damn Thing You’ve Ever Had

Losely has themes from the songs Never Say Never by The Fray, No Surprises by Radiohead, Afterglow by Taylor Swift, and Look After You by The Fray

Anywho, enjoy

Love Z <3

March 9th of 2009

Y/N's POV

Beeping. That was all she could hear. Her entire body was sore, feeling like she had been dropped from the top of a building. After a few moments of trying, she finally was able to open her eyes. But she instantly regretted it as the bright fluorescents welcomed her. She groaned as they tried to adjust to the brightness. She looked around and suddenly realized that she was in a hospital. That was the reason for the beeping as she realized how hooked up she was. 

Her throat felt dry and like something had been pulled from there. She moved her head to the side and let out a shocked gasp when she saw who was by her. She thought she had been dreaming. That the fever she knew she had from the infection that she knew had happened from the terrible keep of her cut had made her imagine he was there. That he had been the one to save her. 

She felt her hand move to reach out to him, but she dropped it when she heard the sound of the door opening. A lady, probably around her grams’s age, walked in. She had a soft smile on her face when she looked at Y/N and walked closer to her. Y/N watched as the lady began fiddling with one of the bags that she assumed was liquids to keep her from getting dehydrated. 

“You’re very lucky that boy got to you when he did.” The lady turned to her, “He’s a keeper, that one. He hasn’t left this hospital except for the one time me and another nurse forced him to get a hotel and sleep properly.”

“He’s just my partner--no, wait, he...I don’t know.” It hurt to speak, it felt like she hadn’t used her voice in years.

The lady raised a brow, “I doubt whatever he did will last long. You’ve been here a week and he’s had chances to go back to DC, but he’s stayed here.”

“Where is here? And what day is it?”

“You’re in Vancouver, it’s March 9th. Do you know the year?”

“2009?”

“Good, who’s your President?”

She genuinely had no idea. Graham had ended his Presidency a few months ago and she still had to learn the new guy's name. Only did she know the Vice-President. “I haven’t learned his name yet, but the Vice-President is Adam Benford, he used to be the CIA Director.”

“Hm, I guess that works.” The nurse chuckled, “You sure know a lot about him.”

She looked at Leon, “Yeah...the two of them are friends.”

“I should have expected that. Well sweetheart, we have you on a morphine drip to--”

“I-I can’t have morphine in large doses. It affects me worse than dilaudid.”

The lady took a look at her file and sighed, “Well I be damned, the nurse who did this completely ignored that it says no morphine.” She looked at Y/N, “I’m going let the head nurse know and we’ll get you switched onto, dilaudid you said? It works with no issue

“Yeah, every time it’s worked in the past it's been with no issues.”

“Alright.” She wrote something down, “I’ll be back in a few.”

Y/N nodded as that lady walked out of the room. Her eyes went back to Leon, who was still asleep in the chair, but she noticed how one of his hands was sitting on top of the bed, like he had been holding hers while she was out.  She gently took it in hers and brushed her thumb over the top. She wondered if Hunnigan ever found a loophole for them to work. If she ever found a way that she could use to show Leon they could have worked.

She watched as he stirred, his eyes slowly opening and blinking to adjust to the bright lights. He groaned before looking at her and she watched as he straightened up and took her hand in his own. She watched as his usual emotionless face turned to one full of emotions.

She gave him a soft smile, “Hey Lee.”

He moved the chair to be closer before he ran a hand over her, moving hair from her face. “Hey beauti--Y/N/N.”

She moved her hand to go back to rubbing the top of his, “You can call me beautiful. You got me out of there after all.”

“You scared me, y’know? I thought I had lost you there and I wouldn’t be able to tell you how sorry I--”

“Don’t, please. Just...just don’t. I don’t want to think about that. You’re here, that's what matters. That shows that you really care, even if you can be annoying about showing it.”

He gave a small smile, “Yeah, but I really am sorry for not...talking to you. It was fucking Stacey who walked in and he threatened to expose us. I just didn’t want your life to get fucked over.”

“Why would mine?”

He sighed, “Hunnigan said that unfortunately, STRATCOM would rather lose you than me. So if they had found out, they would have displaced you. Put you in another department or place you with one of the other offices. But we wouldn’t be able to see each other anymore.”

“And you were scared I would argue and say it was nothing.”

“Yep.”

She looked over to the other side, “I hate when you’re right.”

She heard him chuckle, “It’s a rare feat, but one that can happen.” She looked back at him and smiled, but the smile fell as she began to think. “What’s wrong?”

“Why did you call for a new partner?”

He let out a big sigh, “Because I knew I wouldn’t be able to handle seeing your broken face everyday. Be right by you, pretending to be a supportive friend while you move on.”

She scoffed, “Yeah, me moving on would’ve taken a lot. Trust me. I even asked Hunnigan to find loopholes in the rules for us to be together.” She sighed, “I guess she never found one cause she never told me.”

He laughed awkwardly and she raised an eyebrow, “Well...that’s not necessarily true.”

“What?”

“She found the loophole after you went dark.”

“And she told you?”

“So I might have come in drunk one day, felt bad because I did that because I drove drunk, and asked her to drive me back to my apartment. It was like I could hear you in my head getting mad, not because I showed up drunk, but because I drove drunk. So while she was taking me to my place, I might have spilt that I fucking hated what I did to you and wished that there was some fucking way for us to work and she might have told me the way it could. The small loophole that you asked her to go looking for.”

“What is it?”

“A lifetime commitment that we both said we weren’t ready for.”

“Kids?”

He snorted, “No. Not that.” He moved and dug in his pocket before handing her a small dark blue velvet box. She felt her heart in her throat. “Yeah...that’s the commitment.”

She opened the box to see the ring. It was simple, not over the top. Two diamonds with a sapphire in the middle on a silver band. She let out a shaky breath before looking at him, “When did you get this?”

“Um...a while ago actually. Last summer, I believe.”

She laughed slightly, “That was why you asked me what my ring size was.”

He laughed as well, “Yeah, I expected you to catch on.”

“But...that was before we talked about marriage.” She looked at him, “That was why you asked me, wasn’t it?”

He shrugged, “I realized that I would rather have a possible answer than make you uncomfortable.”

She smiled and for some reason, she leaned over to him and kissed his lips softly. “Why don’t you ask me now.”

“What?”

Her voice was soft, “Just ask that four word question.” She brushed some hair out of his face, “My answer won’t be dependent on it being the only way for us to be together and work together.”

He smiled, “Y/F/N, will you marry me?”

She smiled, “Yes.” She kissed him again, “Y’know, I would have said yes if you had asked me at Christmas.”

“Really?”

She nodded, “Mhm, that was around the time that I realized that even though marriage is a big commitment and we both have our issues with commitment, I was sure I would be able to fully stay with you. Was it partly because you’re the only guy I’ve ever been with that can handle me when my brain can’t function so I just shut down? Possibly. But it also had to do with the fact I can’t see myself with anyone else but you and every time I imagine a future, you’re always there.”

Now it was his turn to brush hair from her face, “So we could have avoided these past few months if I had just looked at the handbook for a loophole?”

She nodded, “Yep. But that doesn’t make me love you any less.”

He laughed, “Good.”

She closed the box and handed it back to him, “Hold onto it for me until we head back to DC.”

He took it and placed it back in his pocket, “I love you, you know that right?”

“I questioned it for a while, but yes, now I do.”

He laughed, “Good.”

They were silent for a few minutes until she looked him dead in the eye, “Can you promise me one thing, Leon?”

“What is it?”

“Never let me go, please? Promise me if you ever start to get insecure with anything in our relationship that you will tell me and we work on it.”

He smiled and kissed the top of her hand, “I promise.”

She smiled, “Good.”

#leon #s #kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy imagine #leon kennedy imagine #leon s kennedy angst #leon kennedy angst #leon s kennedy fic #leon kennedy fic #resident #evil #resident evil #resident evil x reader #resident evil imagine #resident evil angst #resident evil fic #x reader #imagine #angst #fic

[clatoera]

Always Remember We're Burned for Better Chapter 17: What Doesn't Kill Me Makes Me Want You More

Heeeeey guys. I feel like I apologize a lot for delays. Full transparency is that as we enter the final act of this fic we are also entering my application season. Things are going to be irregular until October when my apps are submitted. At the same time I expect thats when I'll be starting the sequel so! Exciting things ahead! Thank you for your patience and understanding and love. I appreciate and love every one of you.

I quite literally went on a mission to revisit every thing Jack Quaid has ever done to get an idea of how I wanted Marvel to sound. I'm posting this 26 minutes before I see oppenheimer the third time.

The title is from Cruel Summer (tswift)

AO3

Masterpost

As always, thank you to my friends. @ohhowwehavefallen who quite literally is the reason for the very last scene. IT was her. Give her credit for it existing. @kentwells for literally letting me bounce EVERY idea off them (I literally the other day said I just want people to be happy and had to be reminded I cause the suffering), and @crookedlyniceperson who keeps me going with the thought of memes.

Thank you as we enter this last segment of chapters, where we end the war and start the rest of their lives.

“Do they ever stop looking at you like you killed their dog?” Johanna is the one who asks, glancing around half heartedly at the dozens of wary stares being sent their way at any given moment. 

In perfect, offhanded unison, Cato and Glimmer give a resigned “No.”

They had grown used to it. The distrustful looks, the pitiful side glancing, but frankly there was not as much fear or respect one would think these once great victors would garner. 

Then again, they were quite a sight to behold these days. 

Johanna, with hair like a peach fuzz and various track marks from IV after IV for that Morphling hit. 

Clove, who had flayed more than one man alive on television, with skin like violets and nightlock berries from her neck down, bruises blossoming on every inch of that pale canvas. 

Cato and Glimmer, who they had long since deemed as crazy and unstable, but now less of a threat with the return of the carrot they had dangled on the stick before them. 

Really, the only one who even resembled his old self was Marvel. And what threat was he, anyway?

Finnick did not grace them with his presence, nor did Annie, as they were playing peacekeepers between Katniss and Peeta across the room after his attempt on her life not all that many weeks ago.  After all, someone had to keep Miss girl on fire’s embers glowing. Without the supervision of Finnick, Gale likely would have taken Peeta out by now just for his own opportunity to get ahead in the name of protecting Katniss. 

“We kinda did kill their dogs. Well. We killed their kids.” Glimmer reminds her, back to her earlier habits of pushing food around on a tray, slipping hard and fast into her old ways. 

She sits directly next to Clove on the opposite side of Cato, across from Johanna. Next to Johanna is Marvel who still cannot look at her for longer than a second, so far as Glimmer knows at least. 

It’s Clove, of course, who catches him looking when Glimmer is not. 

“We didn’t kill their kids, they weren’t in the games.” Clove rolls her eyes, but stabs her blunt spork into the overly-cooked but under-seasoned green beans. She couldn’t even raise her shoulder parallel to the floor, but they were still unwilling to give her (or Cato, for that matter) a knife. At least someone in this godforsaken place was still scared of her and didn’t see her like a bird with a broken wing. “The twelves mostly finished themselves off every year anyway- for fucks sake would it kill someone to get some salt down here?”

“I would commit a literal war crime for a pizza right now.” Marvel admits, and the tone of his voice sounds like maybe he’s only half joking, that maybe he really would dig a knife into the president of District 13 in exchange for extra pepperoni. 

When the eyes around them firmly land on him, and some of the armed guards tense and take a step forward he puts up a single, defeated hand. “I’m joking. I’m not here to take out the rebellion for a stuffed crust.”  When the guards step back and the weary looks turn away, he does cock an eyebrow and gives a slight nod of his head. “Extra cheese on the other hand..”

Glimmer gives a quiet giggle, though she does not look up from the swirls she makes with the potatoes before her. 

Cato actually laughs, though, in a way he had not in the many months of separation of him and Clove. It was like something in him had come back to life, and it clearly had something to do with the dark haired girl he currently had his arms draped around the shoulders of. “If you’re going to get us shot over pizza we may never have again, at least make it something good. At this point I’d lead this fucking war if it would get me back to a burger.” He gently nudges Clove, who is furiously attempting to stab at whatever they were trying to pass off as a balanced meal. “Come on. What do you miss?”

“What don’t I fucking miss? Our bed. Fabric softener. The use of my arms..” Clove starts to complain, but she looks up and catches the teasing shine in his blue eyes and can’t help but play along. “...half of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, the peanut butter half. And an orange. If we make it out of this, I never want to go a day without real fruit ever again.” She nudges at Glimmer’s knee with her own, before doing the same with her free shoulder. “What about you Glim Glam? What’s your death row choice here?”

How is she supposed to say, oh, nothing, I wasn’t allowed to enjoy food, the thought of eating makes me nauseous? How is she supposed to say that she isn’t quite sure there's anything out there in the world that she’s interested in these days. There’s a memory, though, of a night before Clove became victor officially, of late night snacks in a bed that was not her own but belonged to the man across from Cato. Back when there was still potential and love in her world, that little bit of good that she had had taken from her yet again. 

“...those little cake slices, not cupcakes, but the individual slices so you can try the different flavors. They have them at the parties all the time. And maybe fries?” Glimmer smiles to herself at the memory of salt between bed sheets and frosting on the tips of noses. “And there was this pasta, with like…cheese sauce and It was so so good but I can’t remember what it was called but it was just so good I’d kill to have it again–”

“...mac’n’cheese. That’s what it’s called. You like it with the toasty little breadcrumbs on top of it.” Marvel finishes for her, briefly lifting his head and giving ever so slight of a nod. “I remember it from when-”

“Yeah. I do too.” Glimmer agrees, and is the one to break eye contact as she refocuses down at the scraps of borderline dog food they’re being fed. 

A heavy, powerful silence falling over the table full of victors, a haze no one quite wants to break. Cato taps his thumb on Clove’s shoulder, and she settles into his side contently. Marvel clears his throat and looks around the room awkwardly, not quite focusing on any point or face in particular. 

“...well!” Johanna announces, finally breaking through the silence that permeated their shared space. “I don’t know about you, but the first thing I want, is a fucking drink.”

—————

“Where’s Cato? I haven’t seen you two apart…actually at all, since you got back?” Glimmer invites herself to the foot of Clove’s bed, hands full of bed sheets and thread. “Off in that silly little meeting of boys?”

“Finnick showed up and practically begged him to go.” Clove confirms, pulling herself to a more proper sitting position  and tucking her feet back to sit criss-crossed underneath her.  “I don't know if it was actually a meeting or if he was just trying to make him go get his allotted thirty minutes of fresh air.”   As she sits she tugs at the newly replaced IV in her hand, bringing forward the poll that was attached to the long bit of tubing in her hand, reminded of the inconvenience she thought she had escaped. 

Glimmer reaches out a hand to brush over the back of Clove’s, immediately calling attention to the new intrusion. “Clove! I thought you were done with these?”

“Eh. A small setback. Turns out part of my lung just like..collapsed when I was trying to throw this morning. It was filled with blood, it got pretty nasty. I guess I still have some internal bleeding and bruising.” She pulls down the top of her hospital pajamas, showing the literal tubing coming out from below her clavicle, which is filled with fresh ruby blood. “Shoved this in me, the IV is for the pain. I don’t think I need it but–”

“Your lung collapsed. You have a literal piece of plastic sewed into your skin. And you don’t think you need the pain meds?” Glimmer cocks a blonde eyebrow, before mirroring Clove’s cross legged posture. “You’re stronger than anyone else I know, Clove. Stubborn, but strong nonetheless.” 

She offers Clove a bit of thread and one of her stitching needles, along with  the upper half of some shredded fabric.  It had started off handedly– a story of how Clove used to stitch up Cato, how they had been taught in the academy and how she didn’t want to lose that skill too when people were here to baby her. Someone, Primrose Everdeen maybe, had suggested it may be a good therapeutic exercise for her to use the fine muscles and tendons in her hands, to work on stitching and maintain her fine motor skills. 

Really, though, it was more of a therapy for Glimmer, who desperately needed to feel needed, who desperately needed a friend to distract her brain for a few hours a week. 

It worked out for both of them. 

“Any other injuries you wanna admit to, Clove?” Glimmer inquires, absentmindedly beginning to run a new type of fabric stitch on the opposite end of the fabric from Clove. “You know I have no one to tell.”

“Nope. Just the usual. Broken ribs. All my major joints are useless. A lung that gave out. Oh, some internal bleeding…” Clove tries not to reveal her frustration when she cannot thread the needle, cannot keep the intrinsic muscles of her head steady enough to connect the two pieces. The shaking of her right hand betrays her as she drops the needle, grip strength so diminished she can't even keep hold of it for long enough to throw an anchoring stitch in the fabric.  Clove throws down the fabric in defeat, running her hand now over her face instead. 

“But hey. My skin is coming back together. Just ugly fucking scars for the rest of my life–” Clove reveals the skin of her thigh to Glimmer, the puckering of stitches and the greenish-yellow hue of a bruise starting to dissolve under her skin. “Just fucking great, Glimmer. I’m just great.”

Glimmer drops the fabric, and immediately pushes up the sleeves of her District Thirteen issued henley shirt. Her own scars are not as angry red or freshly bruised, but rather a raised, pink granulated tissue in rivulettes from her elbows to right where her wrist meets her hand. “We all have scars now, Clove. No more magic Capitol tricks  to take them away. I clawed my way out of handcuffs, using blood to lubricate my way out.. We all have scars now that we’re going to carry for the rest of our lives. You are alive. You have Cato. By all standards, you’re dong pretty fucking great compared with the other option here.” 

Glimmer picks up the little fallen needle and wordlessly threads it for Clove, saying nothing nor expecting any gratitude from the other woman for the act. “You have Cato. Who will not leave your side, who shoves into a twin-sized hospital bed with you somehow–”

“We slept in a twin sized bed at the academy when we were sixteen until he won. We’re used to it, is all.”

“It’s still sweet. How he is so insistent on being near you all the time, all he thought about that whole time was you Clove, I’m shocked they even got him away from you now.”

“Yeah well.. I made him go with Finnick, too. It’s not good for him to sit here and treat me like a porcelain doll all the time. For either of us.” Clove takes Glimmer’s offering with no words of thanks, as the exchange would prove too embarrassing of a hit to Clove’s fragile confidence.

Her confidence being the only truly fragile thing about her, may she add.

“He sleeps with me and he is always touching me but it’s like he’s scared to touch me, you know?” Clove explains, hoping it is not too much information for what had become her closest friend. “He thinks I'm fragile.”

“He doesn’t think you’re fragile.” She nearly scoffs, giving a half hearted laugh. “He thinks you’re anything but. He just doesn’t want to hurt you.”

It’s Clove’s turn to scoff and laugh at that. “He has never given a fuck about hurting me. He broke my collarbone the day we met. After he won, he used to push me so hard at training that I couldn’t walk the hundred steps to my room at training. One time he picked me up by the throat and slammed me against a wall until I could escape myself. Our entire lives have been hurting each other–”

“Well you’re not the one getting choked against a wall now, are you?” Glimmer deflects, and a wicked smile floods Clove’s face at the realization of the lighthearted change in topic. 

“I wish I were getting choked against a wall in a different way, you know?” Clove teases, laughing as they fall into a comfortable silence as they work on different types of stitching– human skin or low thread-count sheets. 

“You know Marvel is going to come around, right?” Clove offers out of the blue, seemingly coming from nowhere with the topic change. “You said that all Cato thought about was me, well, that was him too. We shared a wall. Lots of conversations were had through six inches of concrete and all….he’ll come around. He just needs time to remember–”

“Clove, he won’t even look at me. He won’t come around, because he remembers it all just fine. Do you know what he said to me that day? That I used him, that he was just another client to me. He said that…that..that I just picked him because he was there! He doesn’t believe that I love him, Clove. He thinks I just..faked it all.” Glimmer catches the skin of her finger in her needle, and quickly brings the blood drop to her lips to staunch the bleeding. “I didn’t fake a thing. Not with him. He is the only person it was ever real with and I just- I just…I miss him.”

“He loves you too, Glimmer. He never stopped.”

“Yeah, well, he shows it just like every other man I’ve ever met, now.”

—————

“There's my favorite cellmate!” Marvel’s voice pops out, a goofy grin on his face as he lets himself right into her room.

“Let me guess, it’s your turn to babysit me?” Clove slams shut the book she had been reading, some silly novel from long before the dark days in a language that was English but also so much more complicated. The only type of enrichment activity she got these days was mental, it seems. 

“Huh? No, no of course not, no...yeah, actually. Yeah. But! I came because I wanted to see you, not because It’s my turn to keep you supervised.”

Clove swings her legs over the side of the bed, placing her feet firmly on the ground before pushing herself to a standing position. She had quickly discovered if anyone was going to let her get away with something it was going to be Marvel– he was not going to keep her in bed with crafts or insist she not move too much at risk of re-angering an existing injury or worse, making a new one. Maybe it was because he had been there when she was at her absolute worst in the Capitol, right alongside her, but he didn’t quite treat her like her skin was made of glass. “Let me guess, another meeting of all the victors but us?”

“The privilege of being the special ones who got pulled out of the arena apparently comes with a security clearance.” Marvel shrugs, nodding his head enthusiastically towards the door. “Peeta bread down the hall is in therapy, Johanna went backwards today in terms of progress with water, and Annie is..well she’s Annie. Oh but us, we’re the big scary careers remember? We’re the little captiol plants, that's why they tried to kill you, makes it more believable you know?” 

Clove hops off the bed and practically scurries towards the door, at the chance to escape her sterile prison at any slight opportunity that arises. As she gets closer to her chaperone she notices the permanent marker writing on his arm. “Look at you, you got slave to district thirteen privilege, what are you blowing off right now?”

“History of Nuclear Defense. It’s pretty cool, but I can’t look at that guy from twelve for more than fifteen minutes-”

“Well you are the one who threatened to stab him for cheesecake, Marvel.”

“I was kidding! Mostly!” Marvel gestures to the left to turn out of the hallway, the long way away from the fellow prison (hospital) cells of their friends and fellow victors. Other than Annie, he has had the hardest time accepting what has happened to them, and even more so why he was left without the physical scars of his friends. “Apparently Cato and Glimmer have both gone after him, I think our turn is long overdue.”

They take their government mandated stroll up and down the hall, back and forth, as they do any day that Marvel gets assigned Clove duty. It’s the most exercise anyone will let Clove have, the most autonomy, even. 

“Have you heard anything about back home? Noone will tell me shit, and I don’t know if they don’t know or if they’re trying to spare my feelings like I'm a child who can’t handle the reality of war.” He half whispers, all too aware (and maybe even a little paranoid, after their time in the capitol) that someone is always listening for something even the littlest bit treasonous to slip their lips so they can be hung in the proverbial town square. 

“Glimmer knows nothing about Gloss and Cashmere. They can’t tell me anything about Enobaria. I thought asking every day would break them but-” Clove gives half a shrug, kicking her feet along the concrete floors. “Noone can tell me anything about her. We don’t know about Brutus, either. All Cato wants to know is about his sister. I don’t think anyone knows. Or if they do, they’re keeping it from all of us.”

He doesn’t respond, just gives a nod at the reality of their situation. If anyone knows anything, it is well hidden from all of them. “You know, I’m not glad you’re still in the hospital, but I’m glad Cato sleeps with you, he’s supposed to be my roommate. We have fucking roommates, what is this, war boarding school? Between this and the classes, I feel like they left some gaps in our education in the districts. Who knew we should know how to do nuclear fission by eighteen.”

“I literally don’t even know what those words mean.” She half-laughs, shaking her head in disapproval. “Other than the games and then, you know, the capitol, I have barely spent a night away from him since we were sixteen. I think you’re safe to push the beds together to make yourself one big one, because he won’t be there anytime soon.” 

Clove supposed that meant that Glimmer was meant to be her roommate when all was said and done. In another life, they probably would have switched in the dark of the night, Clove and Marvel or Glimmer and Cato, rearranging the sleeping arrangements in a way that would scandalize the upper-administration of thirteen and they would not have cared. All they would have cared about is having been together, at whatever cost. Things are different, now, though.

“You need to talk to her.”

“I don’t want to talk to her.”

“Marvel I do not know what they said to you in those last couple of days before we got out, but a week before all you wanted in the entire world was to see her again.” Clove reminds him in a voice that can only be described as lecturing. “All you have to do is talk to her, you’ll know she meant it all.”

“I just can’t get it out of my head, Clove. That all along she was just using me. Over and over and over again, I just hear them telling me that it never would have been me. Why would it be me?” His eyebrows are just slightly knit together, and there's a hesitation in his voice that Clove can recognize as doubt. 

Doubt. The strongest force in the world, like a spell that needs no more than a drop to permeate every inch of your being, to consume you. To burn you to the ground. 

“Because you’re you. And she’s her. And I’m Clove, and he’s Cato. It makes sense just because it does. Some things just…are. And this is one of them.” She has nothing better to say, because there is no stronger answer. 

Somethings are just meant to be because they simply are. 

They pace in a peaceful albeit tense silence, for about five more minutes before the overhead alarm signals to them that a change in activity will happen in exactly five minutes, and her other supervisors will return.

“...you know that Glimmer and Cato got to go to the armory, right?” Clove informs him with a heavy, heavy sigh. “Cato gets target practice and I’m barely allowed out of bed. How’s that fair? I’m going fucking crazy, Marvel.”

“You almost died, you psycho, I think they’re just being cautious. Besides, you were already crazy.”

“I’m not made of porcelain or glass or ceramics. I trained in the best training academy in the country for ten years, I won the fucking Hunger Games.” Clove slams her hand into the door, blocking their entrance back in. “Do you think I'm some little broken winged bird?”

“You don’t have to tell me that, Clove. I was there. I know what you survived. I wouldn’t have. I don’t think anyone else would have.” He gently nudges her hand out of the way so he can make sure she actually goes back to her room. “You know, it probably wouldn’t have been so bad if you had just given them the screams they wanted.”

Clove scoffs. “That's rule number one. Never show weakness. That gets you killed. And besides, I only scream for one person.” She gives him a playful nudge with her shoulder as she pushes past him. 

Who would have thought. At one time she saw him as one of the most annoying victors she had ever met, and now, he was the only person treating her like she had her own two legs to stand on.

Damn. Maybe trauma bonding is real. 

“I don’t need babysitting, you know, Marvel.”

“Trust me, I Know that. Convince everyone else.”

—————

“It’s okay, Clove, you’ll get it back–”

Clove lets out a frustrated scream, throwing the knife to the ground. Finally, finally, she had gotten a knife back in her hand in the training room, a moment she had been working toward for weeks. She had expected it to be muscle memory, truly her second nature, and come back to her as easily as it had back when she was five years old and threw for the first time. 

Apparently muscles lose their memory when they are severed. 

“No, Cato, it isn’t fucking okay!” She grabs another one of the knives– albeit not the best quality, but she cannot blame that. She could kill with a plastic butter knife, before– and as soon as she raises her arm she nearly drops the knife from the sharp pain that runs through her shoulder. “This is all I fucking have, this is all I am, and I can’t do it. I could do this when I was five.”

The couple of throws she had managed to succeed in executing failed in other ways, each three feet away from even hitting her target. A failure, by academy standards. 

“Baby, this is not all you are.”

“How would you feel? If the only thing that has ever made you remarkable was just..gone? This is all I have, yes it is. This is as close as I’ve ever felt to my mother, who chose the games over me, this is the only thing that kept my grandmother choosing to keep me alive, the hope that i’d actually win. I was tiny and frail looking then but I was good. I was the best. This is all I have, Cato. This is all I am, and now I'm not.” Clove tries, again, to bring her arm past parallel with the floor, and the pain is nearly unbearable. She does not cry. She does not show it. But god, god does it hurt deep in her bones. 

“If this is hurting you, you need to stop, Clove.” Stupid Cato. Stupid Cato and his ability to know even the slightest change in her face, to be able to notice even her slightest tells. “You just need time and that's okay.”

“And what the fuck got into YOU Cato? What the fuck is this ‘you need to stop’ shit?” Clove snaps, stepping forward to grab him by the center of his shirt, pulling him forward with a jerk of her arms. “What happened to the person who broke me, and ran me until I threw up, and never once, not a single time, took fucking pity on me? What happened to the person who wanted to make me a better tribute, who wanted to make me a better fucking victor even when we were going to kill each other? I’m not broken, Cato, don’t treat me like I am.”

Cato shakes his head, and drops his hands to his side, before very very gently grabbing her upper arms. “Clove, I don’t want to hurt you, it’s not worth it.”

“Oh since fucking when don’t you want to hurt me? Pick me up by the throat and make me fight my way out, Cato!” Clove practically begs, deep eyes searching his face in desperation, pleading for understanding, 

“That was to make you survive, Clove, not fucking kill you.” He tries, gently tightening his grip on her arms. “This isn’t all you are, Clove, not anymore. Not ever.”

“Cato, stop! Treat me like your fucking partner. Treat me like me, Treat me like you’re Cato and I’m Clove and we have spent our entire lives making each other better. I am begging you, treat me like me.” Clove sees the hesitation in his face, in the way he looks from her eyes to her nose to avoid the desperation in her eyes, and knows she has him. She grabs his right hand and pushes it up to the top of her shoulder.  “Brace my shoulder, and do NOT let it go. If I cry or scream. Do not let it go.”

Something snaps in Cato, or maybe something reawakens, but he gives a firm, hard squeeze at the junction of her arm and her shoulder, feeling the tendons separate and slip underneath his fingers.  Clove’s legs nearly give out, and it takes all she has not to whine in the true agony at the feeling of her joints sliding over each other again. He does not let go, or loosen the grip he has on her swelling shoulder joints. Cato twists her in his arms, facing her out towards the targets. “Go. Throw.” 

His other arm is wrapped around her waist, and holds her up as her legs beg to give out and bring her to the ground. As her throws hit closer and closer to the target, Cato doesn’t comment on how he can tell exactly how hard she is struggling to breathe, or how he can feel her other hand shaking at her side. 

“I have an idea.” Cato begins, finally letting go of her arm and her body and trying to ignore the soft whine that she lets out when he does. “Not that they’re letting us anywhere near a war but,” 

He reaches for the same deep silver gun he had picked up all those weeks ago, when he and Glimmer had been given free range for an hour with Beetee taking pity on them.  “Easier to hit with this.”

Cato slips it from his hands to hers, and notices the way her hand nearly falls at the weight of the weapon. Before the frustrated look can even befall her face, he has her back in front of him, with both of his hands on top of hers. He raises her hands in his, holding them out infront of her. “You’ll like it, at least until your arms are better.” 

“Easy now, baby.” Cato whispers in her ear, “You’ve got it.” He promises, and when she finally pulls the trigger, he catches her back against his chest when the kickback reverberates through her and sends her a few inches backwards. “There you go,” Cato kisses right below her ear, just before she twists in his arms to face him. 

The smile stretched across her face is worth it all in that moment, the wicked, dark energy she is so known for all but painted in her eyes. 

“I knew you’d like that.” Cato teases, only slightly off guard when the metal falls to the ground with a loud cling and he feels her pulling him back. It’s effortless when he naturally lifts her by her waist onto the armory table, in a spot between the guns and knives and various weapons of choice for the assorted victors in thirteen. 

Clove threads her fingers through the hair at the base of his neck and oh she is alive, alive alive again. As she pulls him down on top of her, she pauses only for a moment before catching his lips with hers. 

“Remember, I’m not broken.”

“I know, Clove.” 

#arwbfb tag #the hunger games #clato #cato and clove #clato fanfic #cato hadley #clove kentwell #glimmer thg #marvel thg #always remember we're burned for better tag #the hunger games fanfic

[wakanda-nonsense-is-this]

Ghost of Us — Chapter 1

Masterpage <last next>

This is the sequel to my book Ghost of You. Go check it out before reading this one.

Pietro Maximoff x fem!Mutant!reader

Warnings: PTSD, vague mention of torture, blood, little violence, alcohol, alcohol as a coping mechanism, liquor store, alcoholism, suicide talk, angst, trauma, grief

Word Count: 3284

If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know :)

Dying is easy.

Coming back it's the tricky part.

But what's even worse is the situation I found myself in at the moment.

I released a yelp as Strange's eldritch whip came in my direction and I quickly dodged behind a table which seconds later exploded into million pieces leaving me defenseless in front of a frustrated wizard. I slowly crawled backward until my back hit the wall and winced at the intensity of his gaze.

"Get up."

"I'm fine here, thank you very much."

"Now." He demanded, magic illuminating his hands orange. Reluctantly I stood up and faced him before I sprinted away from him racing towards the door. As expected, it did nothing since seconds later I was face down spitting dust a whip wrapped around my leg pulling me towards Strange.

"Fight back." I moved my head out of the way as a magic disc crashed beside me hitting the side of my face and causing blood to pour out of my cheek. The surprise of actual blood was overtaken by anger, as ghosts made their apparition around us. I felt my powers in the tips of my fingers, in the deep of my stomach, they wanted to crawl out and unleash death. The temperature rose and the light faded away.

"That's enough for today Strange," Wong stated as he appeared behind us. His voice snapped me out of my trance and the spirits disappeared. I blinked once, twice. Since coming back from the land of the dead this type of thing has started to happen more frequently and I was afraid to repeat a scene worse than the one back on my last day on the compound after seeing...

"I leave you two for three hours and you somehow always find a way to destroy everything." He snapped as Strange finally released me. I quietly stood up and tried to clean the dirt out of my clothes.

"He started it," I mumbled.

"It's her fault."

"How's that my fault? You attacked me," I snapped, gritting my teeth as I crossed my arms defiantly.

"If you would simply do what I've taught you and fought back then we wouldn't be having this conversation," Strange grunted, narrowing his eyes.

"Well if you got it into your thick skull that I'm not a freaking wizard then we wouldn't be having this conversation either."

"You're insufferable, anyone ever told you that?" He hissed, his jaw clenching.

"Only every day of my entire life," I commented, raising my chin, a smug smile forming on my face.

"Oh now we're playing the victim card, aren't we?" He grumbled, rolling his eyes. "How creative, now I can't say anything without sounding like an asshole."

"Whoops."

"I hate you." He fumed, swearing under his breath.

"Why? I'm lovely." I grinned cheekily as Strange made to reach me. With a yelp, I hid behind Wong, who looked anything but amused. His brows furrowed together in annoyance and I could see a sneer starting to form on his face.

"Okay, that's it. Get out, both of you. I don't wanna see any of you." He snapped and forcefully shoved us out of the room and finally slammed the door on our faces with a loud thud. We stood still for a moment.

"So, you want something to eat?" I grinned

"Don't talk to me." His nostril flared as he turned around and walked away.

"Idiot."

"I heard that!"

"I wasn’t whispering," I announced smirking.

***

I stood in front of the bathroom mirror as I splashed water on my face, erasing any trace of blood that could remind me of my past. But I wasn't fast enough as the sight of bloody water running down the drain brought me back to the days at the asylum. I tried to shake the images out of my head as I forcefully shut my eyes. My breath quickened as memories of being tied down to a table as they sliced me open invaded my brain. I could still remember the feeling of the blade against my skin as if it was yesterday. The pressure on my wrists as they were being tied down. The chill on my exposed bloody back as air met it. How my screams left my throat feeling raw. Their faces as they stood above me...

But a knock on the door stopped my brain from finishing that memory. With shaky hands, I opened the door only to be met with two green eyes. A grimace appeared on my face as I took in his unwanted presence. His eyes however focused solely on my bloody cheek and then on my probably crazed eyes after my little episode, but he knew me enough not to mention it. We faced each other for some awkward seconds until he spoke.

"Need a hand with that?" He nagged.

"Do I look like I need your help?" I barked back and regretted it immediately as I felt blood dripping down my chin.

"Was that a rhetorical question or do you really want me to answer that?" Strange debated, amusement evident in the way his eyes lit up.

"Whatever" I sighed and rolled my eyes as I opened the door completely to let him in and sat on the toilet.

He stepped inside the little room and searched for the first aid kit inside the drawers. When he found it he kneeled in front of me and took the alcohol out. Gently he wiped the blood off my cheek and then rubbed alcohol on it. He looked at me expectantly, waiting for my reaction, and was surprised when he found none.

"It doesn't hurt," I explained. And it didn't, not really. Not even when alcohol came in contact with the open wound.

"You have a high pain tolerance I see." He noted warily.

"I do." And I did, ever since I knew what real pain was, little things like this felt like a joke. For some minutes nothing could be heard as he cleaned my wound and surprisingly gave me two stitches until a loud sigh could be heard from him.

"What?" I snapped annoyed as he sighed for the fifth time.

"I didn't say anything."

"Then stop breathing so loudly," I grunted as I stood off the toilet and made my way to the mirror to gaze at the repaired damage on my face.

"I just don't understand why you're holding back." The sorcerer pondered crossing his arms above his chest.

"I'm not."

"I don't believe that and neither do you."

"Honestly? I don't care what you think." I snapped glaring at him. Restrained anger danced in my eyes as we stared at each other. Suddenly recognition dawned on his eyes.

"Ohh, so he's why." Strange acknowledged. I tensed and froze at his mere mention.

"It's been 8 months Y/n." When I said nothing he continued.

"I think," he began hesitantly, "it's time to get over him."

"I am over him." I denied

"I'm not blind nor deaf, I can see you crumbling before my eyes. Do you think I can't hear you screaming every night in your sleep? Do you think I don't notice the alcohol stench in your room? The bottles? Well, I can. Why do you think I'm trying to teach you control?"

I didn't answer, I was speechless as shame burned through my veins as I recalled all the sleepless nights filled with Pietro's memories and the bottles I drank to erase any trace of him and the last 12 years of my life.

"Because every night you lose it." He softly answered himself.

"Leave me alone."

"Not until you realize how stupid all of this is!" He exclaimed, his hands raised in exasperation as if begging God for patience. "You're wasting your potential grieving over someone who doesn't know who you are."

"I'm warning you Strange. Stop talking." Warning seeping through my teeth.

"I'm sorry to break it to you but that stupid little dead boy doesn't deserve the power he still holds over you." He snapped, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You don't understand." I looked away, shame filling my veins. I hate it, the power Pietro still had over me.

"Explain it to me then, why put yourself through all of this?"

"Because I loved him and he's gone and it hurts" I roared as the lights flicked and the mirror tremble. The air filled with static.

The silence was so loud. I could feel his eyes burning on the back of my head. My hands twitched at my sides, unrestrained power tingling at my fingertips. I tried not to show it, but I know he saw straight through it. He always did. His features softened at the shaking of my hands.

"That day, you told me to make it stop. You told me you would come if I made the pain stop. But if you keep holding back there's nothing I can do to help you."

I knew he was right, of course, he was right. I was holding back. I was hiding. But what was I supposed to do? For twelve years that's what I was thought to do. If I didn't, I was punished. My whole life has revolved around me having to hold back, for my and everyone's sake. Back then I didn't know what I was capable of, and I still am not, but if I have the power to bring someone back, who says I can't do the opposite. The thing is, maybe I don't want to find out.

What's the point of using these abilities, if all they do is bring me pain. I want, no, I need to forget him. And if alcohol is the way, I'll gladly take it, even if it'll just work for a few hours.

"I don't need your help Doctor." I exited the room and smashed the door behind me as I made my way to the nearest liquor store.

The walk was painfully long. Even after 8 months, everywhere I looked I could see his face, literally. There were dozens of posters with his face adorning the street. People were bedazzled when they learned the Pietro Maximoff was, somehow, alive, after 7 years of being considered dead. I walked faster as I always did every time I got too close and before I knew it I was entering the store, the bell ringing as I opened the door.

By then I knew all aisles by memory so I rapidly searched for the tequila and made my way to the front, where the same man was always working. He acknowledge me with a nod and I did the same as I took money out of my pocket and gave it to him. Without a word I took the bag with my newly bought alcohol and left the store.

Outside I entertained my options and decide going back to the sanctum was not a good idea so I settled by walking directionless until I found someplace to sit. Minutes felt like hours as the sun set down on the horizon, obscuring my surroundings.

Some time passed and I found myself alone in the dark, my only company being the ghost of us. And those horrible posters that made no justice to the color of his eyes.

As the first tear made its way through my face I opened the bottle and took a sip that burned my throat and for just a second made me forget that once again I was alone in a world where no one would ever miss me. It wasn't funny, but I couldn't help the laugh that left my mouth.

"You were right dad," I began speaking to no one in particular as I felt my hands start to shake as the reality of my situation sank in. "I am a monster, unlovable." I croaked, my hand finding the almost full bottle and taking a longer sip.

"I think I get it now, why you abandon me." I kept going, way sober to have this realization, so I took another sip. "I wouldn't want to have me as my daughter either."

"I wonder if they miss me" Another sip. "I bet they don't." I chuckled as I lazily took one more.

"Maybe" I whispered to myself as if I was telling a secret. "Maybe everything would be easier if I just" I took a deep shuddering breath that made my lungs ache "disappeared."

"Don't say that." Blurted a childish voice from somewhere above me. I looked up and honestly, I was not a bit surprised to find a teenager in a red tacky suit hanging off a tree, upside down. I sighed and drank some more. It had been a long day.

"Mind your business kid." I sighed as monkey-boy got down from the tree.

"Are you okay?" He softly asked, but I refused to answer. Maybe if I acted like he wasn't there he'll disappear. Like everyone else. HA.

"I can call someone for you if you want." He continued, unaware of my morbid internal sense of humor. How ironic, I concluded. That a total stranger was the only person that cared enough to ask.

"There isn't anyone. Not anymore, at least." I refused to look at him as I admitted the truth. I kept gazing to the front as we sat in silence. I didn't want to see his pity, the pity that clouded Wong's eyes after he found me curled up crying after a particular nightmare, or in the way Strange would halt giving me shit after a panic attack.

But to my surprise, I was found instead with understanding.

"It sucks, doesn't it? Miss them and don't be able to do something about it, but remember them." Red-guy whispered, his voice becoming melancholic with every word. I looked at him and wonder if there were tears in his eyes every time he spoke about this.

"What's the point of remembering if it only causes pain? That's just cruel." I uttered playing with the hem of my shirt, a lonely tear falling. That was all I was gonna allow myself at the moment, one tear for the man I lost and for the life I never got to live.

"It is. But what about all of the happy memories? Those memories made me who I am, who would I be without them?" Bug-kid stated with so much confidence, that I couldn't help to wonder about him again, is the absence of us, affecting him someway? I shook my head at the thought, I don't think I ever was that important.

"Maybe they're gone, but you aren't. So live, if not for yourself, for them." the boy instructed with, what I think, was a smile behind the mask. He looked healed, I wonder if I'll ever be like that.

At the distance, the sirens could be heard which put an end to our conversation. Spider kid stood up and I came to the conclusion he couldn't be older than 15 years. Yikes, I just poured all my bottled-up trauma on a teenager.

"For the record? I don't think you're a monster, someone capable of loving as hard as you did can't be one." That was the last thing he said after he went swinging through the city.

As fast as he left tears clouded my vision. Because he was right. About everything. My life wasn't over, it had barely begun. Pietro was gone but our memories weren't. It didn't matter that he couldn't remember them. It didn't matter, because I could remember for both of us. My Pietro wouldn't have wanted me to stay like this forever, I know that. So out of respect for him, I had to live, and that I would do. No one was ever gonna take my life away from me again, the choice. I had to live for myself and I would fight for it, because of him.

And drowning my fears and pain in alcohol was not gonna do anything to solve my problems. It didn't help my abilities, it just made them unstable. I needed control, and for once in my life, I would take it.

I stood on wobbly legs and with all my force threw the alcohol bottle to the ground but to my embarrassment, it only bounced and didn't break as I expected. To my dismay, it kept rolling and eventually stopped before someone's shoes. I recognized those ugly shoes and their owner.

"That was embarrassing," mocked Stephen Strange a few meters from me. Any day I would've told him that having to walk with that face was embarrassing, but ant-boy's word rang strong in my head.

"I should have died that day, didn't I?" I knew the answer, but I had to ask, because maybe he knew why, maybe he knew the reason why so many failed, but I didn't.

"But you didn't." He stated, his voice rang through my body and told me everything he wanted to say but wouldn't. In some sick/ Stephen Strange way, he cared. He could've just left me there that day, but didn't. He could've sent someone else to get me today, he sure has more important things to do, but he came. I looked at him through my tears and realized, that in all of these past months there wasn't pity in his eyes, it was a way softer stare. I wonder if that's what a father is supposed to look like because at that moment he sure looked and act like the one I needed.

"No, I didn't," I repeated as if I had just realized. And I think to some extent, I just had. All this time I had been blinded by my grief that nothing else mattered. I was grieving and don't think I would ever stop, but life keeps going and so should I, if not for me, for him, for my Pietro.

"Teach me."

"Gladly."

***

~~1 year and 4 months later~~

"That was amazing!" I laughed, stepping through Wong's portal, adrenaline coursing through my veins as I recalled our latest mission.

"It was meh," Wong replied as he close the portal once we were on the New York's sanctum after 2 weeks of chasing some dark wizards. I looked around me and inhaled deeply, a smile on my face. I was finally home.

"Are you kidding me? I totally nailed that." I scoffed

"Nailed what?" Strange asked making his appearance before us. My smile widened at the sight of my teacher.

"Oh Stephen, you should've seen me. I was amazing." I gushed as I approached him and explained the latest mission and my accomplishments to him.

"Good."

"Don't sound too excited, I may think you care." I gave him a nasty look at his lack of interest. But after a few seconds without a come back I realized something was wrong.

"What's wrong?" I asked, unease rising inside of me. My first thought was someone died, but then I realized all the people I care about were in the room and they were pretty much alive. But Pietro wasn't. I paled and felt my heart skip a beat.

"You're not gonna like it." He sighed and looked at me. By the moment I was sure I was as pale as an albino salamander.

"They need our help, well, more specifically, yours." I was so relieved at the knowledge that he was okay that I didn't register what he was saying.

"What, who?" I scrunched up my face and tilted my head. Strange gave me a long look. Uneasiness gnawed at my insides, but nothing could've prepared me to hear that name come out of his lips.

"The Avengers."

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[alohastyles-x]

Faith In You- Four

Faith In You | Sequel to Loyal To Me

Summary: How long can a grudge truly last? Your return to earth leaves you emotionally confused as you reconnect with your fellow Eternals. As the Emergence comes, you discover who you truly are, what your true purpose is in the universe. Can you handle it?| Druig x fem!eternals! reader

Notes: I apologize this took so long, but I hope the length makes up for it <3 | Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: Character death, brief mentions of suicide | Movie Inaccuracies cuz im low-key tired of going back and rewatching scenes 7 times to get it perfectly right :(

Druig Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Marvel Masterlist | Wattpad | Series Masterlist

The air in the temple was tense as everyone eyed each other cautiously. The last time everyone in the room was together-- with the exception of Makkari and Ajak- they were discussing what to do with your body that laid limp on the marble slab next to Thena’s. Now you’re here, your heart beating, your blood racing through your veins. 

Everyone shifted uncomfortably, as you and Druig stared each other down. His gaze was still harsh, convinced you had left him in the dark on purpose. You just stared blankly, unsure how to feel. You were numb, yet angry. Angry at Druig for what he did to your people, angry at Druig for the way he wouldn’t even listen to you. 

“Druig…” Sersi finally said, just bareilly above a whisper. When Druig didn’t answer, she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She didn’t want to say his name again, fearing she’d only fuel the fire that was raging silently in the room right now. 

“Well, what are ya waiting for,” Druig snapped, impatiently. 

“Ajak… she’s… she’s dead. The Deviants are back, only it's just one, and it's able to adapt to our powers. We think it took Ajak’s healing ability before killing her.”

A beat passed before Druig finally responded, tearing his gaze away from you. 

“You’ve given me a lot of bad news in one go, me lady. First, the once love of my life returns, alive, with the ones who betrayed her, and now this news about a Deviant able to evolutionize in seconds…” You grimaced at the word ‘once’. Was that really how he felt?

“Will you help us?” Sersi asked, her voice full of hope. Druig stood from where he was leaning on the table in the front, and began pacing around. 

“Do you remember this forest? It was the last place we were all together- dead or alive,” he looked at you, his words full of venom. “I have protected these people for 20 generations. From both, the outside world and from themselves.” He was now standing before Kingo and Karun, smirking as he stared down Karun. 

“Your kind will be responsible for your own destruction one day. Don’t ya think?” Druig asked, trying to bait him. 

“I think we must learn from our mistakes, so we can do better,” Karun answered, his voice echoing off the temple walls. He wasn’t scared. He should have been. This angered Druig. His eyes glowed that golden color of cosmic powers and in the next moment, Karun was throwing his camera against the wall. 

“Oh no you didn’t. Okay, new rule, no possessing people’s valets,” Kingo said, standing up and moving directly in front of Druig. 

“Where is your sense of humor, Kingo?”

“You are not a god, you know that right?” Kingo sneered, not backing down. 

“How ironic… Kingo, the movie sta-” 

“Druig! Enough,” you shouted, trying to stop this before it turned into a pissing contest between the two. The sound of your voice stopped him dead in his tracks, turning to face you again. He slowly moved until he was now in front of you, trying his best to be intimidating. You held your breath as his scent filled your nose.

“Don’t talk to me,” his voice was low, and cold. It brought tears to your eyes, which he noticed, but you straightened up. 

“This is serious, Druig.” Sersi said firmly. “ I was waiting until I had everyone together, but I have enough of you now I think I can just tell you…” she said. She told them of what happened when she discovered Ajak’s body. Of the things Arishem told her, the fact that they were never here to protect the humans, only to aid in the existence of the emergence. 

“So, Druig, please. All of you… we have to figure this out.” She finished, looking to everyone, but especially to Druig. He was the one that could make or break this mission- his power was especially useful. 

“I’ve just been told that I’ve been sent on a suicide mission for the last seven thousand years,” he paused and turned to you, “and that most of that existence has been a lie. So excuse me for not giving a fuck about your plan at the moment,” he finished, turning and heading out of the temple. 

“Druig fucking sucks,” Kingo said. You just looked at him, before turning to leave as well.

You went out of the temple in search of Druig- you had to sort this out. A building next to the temple caught your eye. In the window was a vase of dragonsnaps and another of Marigolds- the flowers that were etched into your headpiece. When you looked around, you didn’t notice a vase in any of the other windows, so you made your way up to the door. 

Slowly opening it, you halted at the threshold. It opened into a living room, adorned in all of your favorite colors and all the things the villagers had made you over the centuries. The entire hut was a temple dedicated to you. When you moved further in, you noticed a bedroom in the back corner. As you moved closer , you eyed something draped over the bed. It was the hand woven blanket that one of the village moms had made you. It brought a tear to your eye, knowing that Druig still had all of this to remember you. 

“What are you doing here?” Druig asked, making you jump. You hadn’t heard him come in. His voice was laced with venom still. 

“Druig, stop, please,” you whispered. “Stop the hostility. You haven’t even given me a chance to explain myself-” 

“Well go on then!” Druig interrupted, yelling at you. You closed your mouth, completely over the way he was treating you. 

“Stop yelling at me!” You responded back. “Gods, Druig, this is madness! Why are you so rude!”

“Why? Why am I rude? I don’t know, y/n, why do you think?! I watched you die, and here you are-”

“Yea! Here I am! You should be happy to see I’m alive, that I’m here!”

“Yea, only after a couple THOUSAND YEARS!” Druig scoffed. He was in your face now, absolutely livid that you couldn’t understand why he was upset. 

“Get. Out. Of. My. Face.” You sneered back. He wasn’t expecting your voice to be laced with as much venom as he had in his. It made him stumble back a few steps. You pushed past him and headed to the door. 

“Y/N- wait,” his voice was shaking. 

He was about to say more, but a familiar growl interrupted him. It rumbled through the woods, vibrating the windows next to you. 

“Oh no,” you whispered, flinging the door open, and booking it down to the middle of the grounds, where Sersi, Sprite, Kingo and Ikaris were standing. 

“Did you hear that?” You asked. They nodded, preparing to fight whatever was heading towards them. Druig was following behind you, taking his stance next to your side– just like before. You tried to act like you didn’t notice. Thena and Gilgamesh were missing, but otherwise, everyone was there… waiting. 

The trees ahead of you shook, and you knelt down to feel the vibrations running through the ground. 

“It’s getting closer. Druig, you need to get everyone out of here.” You said, motioning to the helpless humans aimlessly working, not noticing the sounds in the distance. 

“They can fight,” Druig responded. He lifted his arm, his eyes going golden. Suddenly, the villagers stopped what they were doing, and picked up the nearest shotgun to them. Druig had them line up, ready to attack. 

“Are you serious Druig?! Get them out of here!” You shouted. “This is unbelievable,” you whispered under your breath as he just shook his head. 

Suddenly, a screech echoed through the woods, and a Deviant with wings flew down, snatching Ikaris by the shoulders. Sersi yelled out, but you knew he could handle his own. You turned, anticipating where the next one would come. 

“I thought you said there was only one?” Druig asked.

“There was only one… until now,” you said. This changed Druigs tone tremendously. 

“Everyone! To the river, now!” He yelled to the villagers, who took their guns and ran. Druig snatched one from one of them, cocking it and aiming it towards the woods. 

A small Deviant came from the side, but with one blast of lightning, you cut it down. Druig was shocked, but not surprised. Clearly you had worked on your control. Another small Deviant came out from the left, and Druig claimed this one, shooting at it twice before running up its back and shooting it in the head. 

You hated to admit how hot it was to see him with a gun, his muscles flexed in the sleeveless sweater he wore. You couldn’t let yourself get distracted though. Kingo and Sprite took on two more Deviants that came out.  

There was an electrical charge in the air. You sensed it. Something bigger was coming, something stronger… the One from before. As you let the Eternals take on the smaller ones, you decided to muster all of the elements you could- something Loki taught you to do. 

Reaching your arms out to the east and west, you lifted your head to the north, and stood on your tiptoes for your toes to face the south. Muttering a chant under your breath, you began to levitate, the golden cosmic energy swirling around you. Druig was the first to notice, as he dropped a Deviant he just killed. 

“Woah,” he whispered. This caught everyone else’s attention. No one knew you could do this. 

In your head you pictured the elements rising. Rocks began to levitate off the ground, sticks and water droplets as well. They all rose to be level with you, before moving to point into an arrow directly in front of you. Flashes began to play in your head of the leader of the Deviants. You saw a name written out: Kro, and then you saw it. It  was just about to be at the edge of the woods. You manipulated the elements to form a long stick, sharp enough at the end to penetrate its skin, and then you waited. Just as it made its way to the clearing of the woods, you sent a gust of wind with it. It pierced it right in the chest, but it wasn’t enough. 

While you were still levitating, you summoned a lightning storm. Your eyes glowed golden as the golden cosmic energy flowed around you still. Lightning began to strike from the sky, setting the trees on fire next to it, causing them to fall on it. As that happened, Kingo blasted it with his energy bolts, and Ikaris returned, beaming it as well from higher up. 

Only this wasn’t enough either. The power wasn’t just penetrating Kro, it was flowing through him. He was adapting your powers. A vision flashed in your mind of lightning being sent your way and you ducked. It struck the workshop behind you. 

Kro cut its connection with you, and sent a large stone hurling your way. It struck you, and you fell to the ground with a scream. 

It was the same scream Druig heard every night in his dreams. Rushing to your side, he moved the stone off of you. 

“Y/n, oh god, no,” he whispered, seeing blood pool under your clothes on your chest. PTSD began to bubble up. It was in these same woods he lost you once, and now he was going to lose you again. Your chest was sunken in from the stone, and he could see the color drain from your face. 

“Elixir… pocket…” you breathed out. Druig reached into the pocket of your pants and pulled out a shiny, dark green vile. He popped it open, and held it to your lips. Within seconds your chest rose to its natural place, no longer dented from the large stone. 

“What… what was that?” Druig asked, as he helped you sit up.

“A healing elixir that Loki helped me make.” 

Druig pulled you tightly into a hug, the fear of almost losing you again was too much for him to continue holding his grudge. It no longer mattered to him why you weren’t here all these years. You were here now, and that’s what mattered more to him. Your heart was beating, and he could hear it. You were alive. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. His voice broke; he was crying. You hugged him back tighter. 

“I hate to interrupt this moment- but we could really use your help here!” Kingo shouted, making the two of you pull away from each other. Druig was still in shock, he sat back watching the events unfold in front of him.  Sersi had just come to from being knocked out. Kingo and Sprite were shoved off into a building, and Ikaris was now being held down by the Deviants hand. Kro was gone. 

Sersi got up, and went after the Deviant holding Ikaris down. It got off of Ikaris, and went after Sersi, pushing her into the water of the walled pool that stood in the center. WIthin the next second, water droplets splashed up from the water and  a tree made from Deviant flesh stood in the middle, limbs sprouting in all different directions. The water then fell, drenching everyone.

“How did you do that?” Ikaris asked, but before Sersi could answer, their attention was drawn to you. You were levitating again, attempting to find Kro. He was further in the woods with Gilgamesh and Thena. 

“Gilgamesh. Woods. Now!” You shouted. Without questioning it, everyone took off to help Gilgamesh fight off Kro. 

The woods were dark as you moved through them. It was eerie familiar, and you had to push down the anxiety that was bubbling up inside. As if Druig could sense your discomfort with being in these woods again, he reached out and softly grabbed your hand. All felt right in the world again to have him by your side. 

But that all got tossed to the side when you heard a scream up ahead. It was Gilgamesh. The two of you broke out in a run, catching up to where the others were. You gasped at the sight before you. 

Kro had struck Gilgamesh down, and fled after realizing their true purpose on earth with the emergence. It turns out Arishem left everyone in the dark. 

Gilgamesh lay lifeless on the forest floor, gaping wounds glittering in the faint moon light. He had sacrificed himself to save the love of his life. 

“No…” Thena whispered, as she processed what she just saw. She kneeled next to Gilgamesh, resting her head on his chest. 

“Right when we lose Ajak too…” Ikaris whispered to Sersi. You shot him a glare, still suspicious of him. 

“Wait, y/n, what about the elixir?” Druig asked, a little too loudly. Everyone’s heads snapped to you. 

“I… I only had one on me. I could try and make it real fast, but I don’t know how long after… you know, death it works…” you trailed off, hurt that you didn’t think to snag 2. 

“No, it’s okay. Gilgamesh was a natural man, he wouldn’t have wanted to be brought back after death.” Thena responded callously, before breaking down into tears.  

An all too familiar feeling ran through Druig. These woods were cursed to him and, now, to Thena. The place she once took someone's life, she now lost her love. The parallel was gut-wrenchingly obvious to everyone in the circle they now made around Thena and Gilgamesh. No one said anything while Thena sobbed over him. 

The feelings of deja vu became too much for Druig, as he stood watching his fellow eternal mourn the one they loved dearly. He reached for your hand, but you pulled away. 

Not now, you mouthed. You didn’t want to rub in Thena’s face that you came back, when Gilgamesh never will. Druig tensed up. He needed your comfort right now. 

“We need to hold a funeral,” Thena spoke up suddenly. 

“Of course,” Sersi whispered. “Shall we do it at the lake again?” 

“That would be nice,” Thena answered. 

Everyone dispersed to grab materials for the pyre to build. Druig went to grab an accelerant, while Ikaris and Sprite went to cut some wood. Kingo and Sersi went to find some leaves to twine the wood together, before Druig pointed out that they had some rope in a warehouse. 

“We’re not that uncivilized,” Druig smirked. 

You decided to hang back with Thena. While the rift between the two of you wasn’t fixed, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave her side. You knelt next to her, and placed your hands on the dirt floor. 

“Do you know if he had a favorite flower… or plant?” You whispered. Thena gave you a confused look until she saw your hands. 

“Wolfsbane was a favorite of his, along with lilies,” she finally answered. She watched carefully as your hands began to glow. Patches of wolfsbane and lilies began to shoot up through the dirt. 

“Do you think that is enough, or should we make some more?” 

Thena’s face softened at your kindness. She appreciated the use of ‘we’ as if she was honestly helping you magically grow flowers from the ground. Especially with the tension between the two of you. 

“I think we should do some more,” you answered, and began to make more. But you were stopped by Thena’s hand on top of yours. 

“Thank you.” 

You didn’t know what to say. Anything you could think of seemed lacking given the grave circumstances. Instead, you offered her a warm smile. 

After everything was prepared, Ikaris, Druig and Kingo helped carry Gilgamesh down to the pyre, setting him on top before lighting it. The wooden planks were decorated with the flowers you grew, and the leaves Sersi and Kingo gathered before Druig showed them the rope. 

Nothing but the roar of the fire filled the night sky. Thena held her head up high. Even when sad and mourning, she still looked effortlessly graceful; you envied her for it. As Gilgamesh’s body burned, Ikaris and Kingo pushed the pyre into the water, watching respectfully as it floated down the river. 

You placed a comforting hand on Thena’s shoulder, before turning and heading back up the hill. You wanted to give her her space before his body disappeared around the curve. Everyone else seemed to have the same idea, besides Druig. He hung back with Thena, the memories too consuming to leave her alone. 

“How did you move on, after y/n’s death?” You heard Thena ask. You hung back behind a tree to listen for his answer. 

“I’m not sure. Clearly, I didn't do very well. I enslaved the people she loved to keep her memory alive. I don’t recommend that though,” Druig snickered, turning to face Thena. 

“I just didn’t let my love for her die. I kept it ignited all these years. It was hard, sure. Some days I thought about endin’ it all, in this river actually, to join her back home. But I couldn’t leave these people leader-less, so I stayed. Now I’m glad I did, but I know that this fortune won’t come to everyone.” Druig answered. Thena’s face softened as she took in his answer. 

“How do you think I could keep his love alive?” Thena asked, genuinely. She was lost on what to do.

“Just by being the Thena he loved.” His answer brought a tear to her eye. She nodded her head, and he swung an arm around her shoulder. 

“You’re gonna be alright, Thena. You’re gonna be just fine,” Druig comforted. She leaned her head on his shoulder and smiled. She was grateful for the kindness he was showing her. 

| ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ, ʟɪᴋᴇꜱ, ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴏᴘɪɴɪᴏɴꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛʟʏ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ |

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[alfairy]

So! I finally saw the fnaf movie! And I’ve got many thoughts about it!!! Here’s my review and random reactions and thoughts about it. Spoilers for the movie under the cut. Proceed with caution!

I thought it was really good! Definitely wasn’t perfect but I had a lot of fun watching it! My mom was with me, and she doesn’t really know anything about fnaf but she also enjoyed it. I didn’t really get scared at any point during the movie (I was more scared by the horror trailers they played before it started haha), but that’s fine! Maybe I’m just immune to jumpscares.

The effects!!! All the animatronics looked so good in motion, and the sound design made them feel even more real. Every heavy metallic movement or blink of an eye, it was just perfect.

There are sooooo many Easter Eggs! Sparky the dog! Ella from the books as a prototype circus baby spring lock suit!

The soundtrack slapped, especially the opening credits. Blumhouse was cooking in the music department fr 🔥🔥🔥

BLANKET FORT SCENE! EVERYONE CHILLING TOGETHER ON THE FLOOR AND BEING FRIENDS! I wish they could’ve stayed friends like that, it was my favorite scene of the whole movie and was so sweet

I heard everyone say there was a matpat cameo but I didn’t see it? Either I somehow missed it or the theater cut the scene or something? I SWEAR I didn’t see this man or hear him say his iconic line. I did have to get up at one point to use the bathroom really quick, so many that’s when I missed it.

Coryxkenshins cameo! I love that guy, he did really good for his quick scenes! I think they should make him a reoccurring character actually. Have him run over springtrap in the next movie.

Also the aunt character was evil. But like, comically evil. She hires people to break into the restaurant to make Mike look bad so she can get custody of Abby and get the government paychecks for it. And she got murdered in Mikes house by Golden Freddy, and they never resolve that??? Last we see her she’s lying dead on the floor and then the last scene with Mike and Abby they’re happily eating spaghetti at home like their aunt wasn’t murdered in the living room lmao. And we know Vanessa couldn’t have covered for them because she’s in a coma soooooooo. 🤷‍♀️

The coolest kill was when Freddy bit that girl in half and her bottom half fell onto the floor like DANG! The rest of the kills they either cut away from or don’t really show detail, which I thing is a weak point. Next movie I think they should push it a little bit further, but I understand why they shot it the way they did.

Is this a good time to admit that I’m kinda down bad for Josh Hutcherson in this thing hhahghshdh 😳🫣 boy stopping looking at me with them big sad doe eyes

Matthew Lillard was also serving cunt in this, even though he got 10 minutes of screen time 😔 he gave it his all. Hopefully if we get a sequel he gets to do Springtrap stuff.

Mike during this whole movie be like: 😴. I’m surprised it took so long for the band to attack him in real life (dream sequences don’t count) when in literally every other scene he’s popping pills and taking naps. He naps every few scenes and yet looks like he hasn’t had a good nights rest in 30 years 😭

So… Garret isn’t one of the spirits? I would’ve thought he was Golden Freddy but he’s not…. Maybe in this universe Garret is the puppet? There was a hidden message in the end credits that says COME FIND ME and the puppet music box is playing. That seems to be what theyre trying to set up for a potential sequel, but…. That’d make me a little sad tbh, this is Charlie erasure ;-; Also can we please have Henry Emily do something for once in this franchise, WHERE is this man.

The finale was cool! When Spring Bonnie walked in everyone was like “YESSS!!!” And after he started talking my mom was like “😯 I think I know who it is!”

William smacked Mike so hard he did a damn triple flip through the air and got his ass knocked out cold. Mans him so hard that it probably sent him back to the bite of 83 💀💀💀

So. The big thing. No Michael Afton in the movie. In fact, Vanessa is William’s only child.

Honestly I’m kinda down for the strange role swap that this universe has going on. I don’t think anyone expected Vanessa to be Williams daughter, but that was cool, and it gives a little insight as to how William managed to get away with this for so long. He’s literally got a kid in the police force keeping tabs on Freddys and covering his tracks for him. Now it suddenly makes sense why in the trailers Vanessa seems so knowledgeable about the animatronics and already knows they’re possessed.

Tbh I had a random thought. If Vanessa gets to take over Mikes role in this world as Williams kid, then Mike should get to have his own “reluctant follower” villain arc. Put that man in a rabbit costume. It’s only fair. Equality 😤 ✊

And with those final thoughts…. Yeah! I’d say the movie was a solid 8.5/10 for me, I’ll probably go see it again with friends when they get off work this weekend! The critics are wrong yet again, it’s a perfectly enjoyable movie and the fans will love it.

#fnaf movie spoilers #fnaf spoilers

[allandoflimbo]

Take It Back: His Story (4)

Sequel to Take It Back

Previous Chapter

Summary: You and Bucky. It was supposed to be a happy ever after. Your story, home, and love was near perfect. After all, you had worked so hard and suffered so much to be where you finally were. But behind the scenes, Bucky had been dealing with more baggage from the past than he had been willing to publicly share. Steve was always the second best when it came to him and Bucky. From Nat, to you, and maybe now, even someone else. It’s been seven years since Ashlyn cheated on Bucky, but nine since she first fell in love with him.

Two years after their public divorce and after starting therapy, she holds onto a dangerous mixture of jealousy and strength. With new friendships and new love on her side, she knows she should let Bucky go. But should is so hard to do when she loved as hard as she did.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Masterpage for Take It Back: His Story

“Let’s take it back a step.” 

Bucky’s mind was in the middle of a whirl when she says it. 

Along with her words to stop him, Dr. Raynor holds her hand up. His eyes go to her hand that remains up in the air and he opens his mouth to speak, but she doesn’t let him as she continues.

“What did I say would be our approach?” Her tone is calculating and he knows it, but it’s well deserved. He’s been avoiding a good chunk of information.

He licks his lips and swallows thickly. 

“We would do each one at a time.” He says quietly.

She stares at him for a second longer with that same look. 

Bucky guessed that look meant she was probably debating with herself if she should continue this session at all. 

She quickly lets out a quick sharp exhale and shifts in her seat.

“This whole experience here won’t be easy, Bucky. I  know  you know that. This isn’t just to share stories, but for you to finally talk about every single thing, and I know  that’s  what  you  want to do. But you  cannot  be afraid to avoid something you want. We  can’t  hop around from one story to another,” she snaps her finger, “just like that. You need to get it all out so we can see the root of the solution for each thing as best we can. I know  you  know that, but I know you also want to rush through it all as much as you can. Sure, we’ve spoken about most of these topics before, but this is different.”

She’s not wrong at all.

“Right. Sorry.”

She looks him dead in the eye and then turns her laptop back towards her.

“College.” She starts.

Bucky nods.

“Let’s go back to that story about Steve and when you spoke to him about your college girlfriend, Nat. About your friendship. The one you brought up in our last session. Do you recall?”

“Yes.”

“And Afghanistan.” Bucky winces at her words, “We need to start that far back.”

Bucky nods again, running his hands through his hair as he hangs his head low.

“I’ve heard everything that has happened, but in third person, and all very vague. I need you to be transparent with me from the very beginning. If you want me to best understand to better help you, I need to know the story. This will hurt, but it will help you We both know this, and we both know deep down you want to, which is why you are here.”

Bucky looks up at her and her heart cracks slightly. 

She knew this would be hard for him.

“We have as much time as you need. Start whenever you are ready.”

The  Real  Beginning

“Get in the bus!” Bucky’s screams were desperate, his voice cracking with fear.

He tried to push each child safely onto the white and outdated school bus. Their little screams and cries filled the air over the distant, but approaching, sounds of bombs and men yelling. 

He knew the kids couldn’t understand what he was saying, but he was glad they trusted him enough to get in the vehicle. 

He still doesn’t know how these children ended up here. He just knew children were innocent and  this  was not an accident.

“Is that all of them?” A shout comes from his right. Bucky turns to look at his friend Matthew, seeing the clear fear in his dark brown eyes.

“I don’t know, I have no idea.” Bucky shouts back, putting what he  thinks  is the last little kid on the bus; a seven-year-old little girl, “but I think so.” He turns to the driver, another soldier, “take them to Roeford. Don’t stop and be careful!” The soldier nods quickly and speeds away.

Just as quickly, a loud pop goes off in Bucky’s right ear, making him lose his hearing momentarily. 

He cringes, the ringing is unbearable.

After a second, he looks over to see Matthew. His stomach drops. His friend was laying down in the sand and dirt where the bus once stood, a pool of blood underneath his head.

Bucky watches stunned, as just as quickly, another bullet goes straight into his friend’s skull, the brain matter going everywhere and contorting his face in multiple directions.

Bucky screams.

He wants to run over to his friend, even though he knows it’s a death sentence, but before he even has the chance to, a pair of strong arms wrap around him. 

His yells of despair and pain become completely and utterly inconsolable.

He never knew fear like this. Ever.

Bucky wakes up with a jolt, his body sitting up straight and unable to catch his breath.

He was still in critical shock as they brought him home on the A400M. 

If anyone would’ve said any word to him, he wouldn’t have heard them. 

He hasn’t spoken a word since his last scream six days ago. 

Eventually, his yelling stopped. He realized soon that they were of no use anymore, and that instead, he was just starting to badly lose his voice. Not that it mattered much if he were to die soon.

He had blacked out for the eighth time when he was woken up to the sound of shouting - English - and gunfire. He was too far gone and too delirious to provide a proper reaction when the armed forces approached his side on the metal bed, hands immediately going to untie him. 

His blood squelched beneath their boots . He could still hear it.

He doesn’t remember how he was greeted, or what they told him they would do for him. He just remembered feeling tired, dizzy, sick, and completely disassociated from reality. 

He no longer felt like he needed to care about anything about himself anymore. Not that it mattered.

When they had placed him on the stretcher, and then taken him out into the hot Afghan sun, he passed out once more.

He doesn’t know how many times they revived him, and how much fluids they pumped into his body. 

He doesn’t remember the surgery or any of the doctors. 

Maybe it was the medically induced short coma they had put him in that made his memory so foggy.  

He doesn’t know. Not that it mattered.

He looks around the airbus and sees some other soldiers walking back and forth, some offering him to lie down or take a sip of water. 

He doesn’t respond.

He closes and opens his eyes. He finds himself back in that cavern, back with  those  tools, and with Matthew’s dead but open eye staring at him from the corner.  

He’s shaking his head back and forth, can’t be believing that his rescue had all been a dream. 

He starts crying, asking for it to be anything but this.

“James. James, calm down. You’re safe. You’re on a military aircraft. We’re bringing you home. You are safe.”

“No. No.  Matt …” the older man facial’s expression falls at the name.

Bucky doesn’t care that everyone stops what they are doing to look over at him if even for a second.

He dissociates immediately, passing out once again.

He wakes up to the sound of low talking and something creeping open. Metal on metal.

It sends a jolt of nausea through his gut.

Too quickly after, he also feels the heat of the summer air slams him in the face, along with its strong UV rays that just manage to peak into his eyes. 

He doesn’t recall how they get him up, but then end up rolling him down the cargo door out in a wheelchair. If he could talk, he would’ve told them he didn’t need one.

With a hand to his eyes to help shield some of the sun, the first thing he makes out is other government officials standing around the tarmac and some sleek black vehicles.

He begins to feel light and airy as his eyes take in the airport and the blue sky. Maybe it was the post-surgery pain meds still working.

It takes him too long for him to make sense of the two pairs of arms hugging his head and shoulders, and the cries of what he then realizes is his mother. The hushed words — his father. 

Why wasn’t she at the hospital? Why was dad whispering?

Bucky tries to pull away from his parents, to try and breathe for a second, just one second, but he remains disassociated, numb, and without energy.

So he subjects to the continuation of the hugs. 

The trauma surgeon speaks to his mom and dad, updating them and handing them his prescription meds. During the ride home, he’s in a trance, eyes stuck on the scenery that passes him out the window. 

He sees everything, but he can’t make sense of any of it.

How can things be this way now, so simple, after what transpired only a few weeks ago? 

How could he be here in the backseat of a brand new G-Wagon, with birds singing happily outside, when Matthew was rotting to death in a casket? It was not fair.

How was he just a few weeks ago held captive in a cave, with his arm almost hanging off, bleeding and starving to death, and now his mother was talking about what he and his dad would have for dinner tonight? 

He knew she meant well. 

But still.

He feels the vehicle slow down to a curve. He looks at the gravel underneath the tires that led to a beautiful three-story cape cod-style mansion. It was grey and white.

The summer home.

When the car is turned off, his dad turns to his mother. 

Bucky watches as he places a gentle kiss on the top of her head. 

She then turns her head to speak to Bucky in the backseat.

“Honey, I have go back to the hospital, but we’re dropping you off first okay?” Bucky’s mom says. “They transferred me so I’d be closer to you. So we can see each other here. You only have two months left until you go to college. We think it’s best you spend it here at the home, where you can have some space and quiet.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that.

All of it sounds wrong but simultaneously good.

“Thank you.” Is all he says. His voice remains monotone and his face stoic. The rumble of his first real words in days feels like sand in his windpipe.

Bucky watches as his dad gets out of his seat, goes to grab the things out of the trunk, and then opens the backseat door for him. 

His dad hands him his hand and Bucky gladly takes it with his right hand. 

His left arm was in a swing and wrapped up with heavy dressings that would need constant monitoring and cleaning.

His father helps him slowly make his way up the stairs and through the front door of the home.

“I’ll help walk you up, okay?” His dad says, sliding the key into the lock. 

Bucky nods. Still feeling ashamed and embarrassed. He’s not sure why he feels that way, but he does.

They take each step one at a time. Bucky’s induced week-long coma left his legs a little more out of shape than he’d thought. 

Once they are in front of the door to his bedroom, his father turns to him. 

He looks sad. Bucky looks away, not liking it.

His father leads him into his bedroom, and then he walks over to Bucky’s nightstand. 

Once Bucky eventually sits down on the side of his bed, loving the relief off his legs, his dad places the duffle bag on the floor. He reaches over and also places the paper bag on the little table next to his bed.

“These are your meds.” His father says gently, his own eyes staying on the bag and then slowly drifting to his son and his arm.

Bucky’s eyes go to the floor and he nods.

“I’m going to take your mother, and once I’m back I’ll…” there’s a large pause between them and it makes Bucky’s eyes fill with water and his throat constrict painfully. 

Help feed me?

Help me shower naked like a baby? 

Help me use the bathroom ? 

Help me pull my bandages off my disgusting wounds that represent my cowardliness?

“ Okay .”  Is all Bucky manages to say. 

He doesn’t remember watching his dad leave, nor the heavy slumber that came right after.

The last few hours were a blur of sleeping, sleeping, and drinking a few sips of water. He doesn’t even know what time it was or if it was already the next day. He hasn’t opened his blackout curtains so he doesn’t know. 

He does know he’s ready for his first shower at home. 

He sits himself up with one arm and then lets out a long breath. He was exhausted.

He looks towards his closed bedroom door and debates if he really needed to ask his dad for help.

There was something that bothered him about asking his dad to help him undress and wash him with soap. Something so simple.

He runs a hand up his face and through his hair. 

He would try without help. 

He starts with his pants and underwear since it’s the easiest. He looks down at his grey t-shirt, wondering how he would do this.

He hesitates for a moment before starting with untying his swing from around his back as best as he could with one arm. He needed to get it off so he could prep his arm with the sleeve in the bag in his room. He almost has the sling completely unclipped when he feels the first tug on his shoulder, making him cry out.

His weight of his arm was pulling on the severed nerves. He sobs through clenched teeth, cursing himself for clearly nothing thinking this through.

He puts the one clip back on the sling and then rests his right hand forward onto the nightstand. He keeps himself up like that, already feeling too tired to do anymore. He also feels vulnerable and ashamed.

Here he was, pants around his ankle in his bedroom, wanting to just take a shower, and he couldn’t even do that.

He blinks away the tears and sits down on his overslept bed.

Slowly, with draining energy, he pulls his garments back up his legs. With a deep and shaky breath, he raises his head back up to face his bedroom door.

“Dad.” He starts quietly, not knowing how much his voice could take yet, “Dad.” He tries a little stronger and louder.

He doesn’t trust it to go louder than that. He stares at the door that remains closed and untouched. He hates this so much. He can feel the tightness in his throat grow into that painful lump that comes right before a cry.

He opens his mouth again when just then the door opens.

He lets out a cry of relief, but just before he can ask his dad for anything, Bucky takes in the look on his father’s face.

He didn’t come in because he heard him. It was for something else.

His dad looks furious.

It scares Bucky immediately. He recoils, realizing for the first time that his pants were still unbuttoned.

“They took her.” His dad says, eyes wide as saucers.

The words don’t really make sense to Bucky at first. It takes him a second to even really hear what his dad just said.

“W-what?” Genuinely confused.

His dad looks him dead in the eye, a strong finger pointing at Bucky.

“Your mother. She’s missing.” His voice is strong but it breaks at the end.

Bucky’s gut falls-  hard . 

He lets out a shutter as he looks his dad up and down, almost in disbelief.

“What do you mean?”

George’s face turns into an ugly snarl.

“What do you think it means? She’s gone! They kidnapped her, because  you—“  Bucky swallows hard, his eyes swelling with tears. Mr. Barnes catches himself and steps back. He shakes his head as if to shake off whatever it was he was going to say. He runs a hand up through his hair, almost regretful at his words towards his son, “They took her.”

Bucky starts shaking his head back and forth as he shuffles back.  No .

“Dad—“ his voice cracks.

His dad starts to walk back and forth across the room. 

“You— you  need to stay low. Just like we said before, what happened  there  doesn’t get out. You got  lost  — that is it.”

Bucky starts shaking his head. 

“Dad—“

“We will find her.  We will find her , okay?” He says, obviously trying to convince himself more than Bucky.

Bucky just stands there in the middle of his room, feeling sick to his stomach. 

———

It’s been two months since he started physical therapy and two months since they’ve been looking for his mother.

The last thing Bucky was ready for, or wanted to even do, was leave the summer home to go to college. 

You’d think he would be tired of eating cereal all day and watching Breaking Bad.

But his friends told him he couldn’t give up now. 

And so he worked on his muscles, and his arm, and his hand. Physical therapy was two times a week. He was nearing his twentieth week of PT. His fingers were near perfect, but his arm would still take a few more months (or maybe years) to get it near to what it was. 

It still required more surgery since his arrival home. 

The nightmares still didn’t stop, nor did the severe pain because of the nerve damage. But they were getting better. The doctor said a lot of it was psychological at this point. He saw a therapist, Dr. Raynor, every two weeks on Monday mornings.

He had two last upcoming surgeries, one more for his nerves and one last one regarding his bones being shifted, because they had been chaffed so badly.

That was the last of his worries.

He wanted to find his mother. 

The first month since she had been missing, he couldn’t sleep, and he still somehow held hope. 

As time went by, he knew things weren’t looking good. Everyone did. By the beginning of the second month, they knew what happened, but they hadn’t found evidence.

Bucky relied desperately on the evidence. He convinced himself that he would lose no hope unless he had proof to give up hope. Since there wasn’t any, she still had to be out there somewhere.

He had carpooled a ride with Steve and his parents to the campus where they would get settled into their dorms. They had been there the week prior and already set everything up with their stuff.

Once they arrive and tell Steves' parents goodbye, they go their separate ways. 

Bucky goes into his dorm and sets his backpack down on his wooden and bland-looking chair. 

With a loud sigh, he sits down on his bed and looks out the window into the late summer sky. He couldn't feel it, but he knew a soft breeze came through as the foliage blew here and there.

Hope .

He sighed.

He wasn’t ready for  anything .

He takes in a deep breath and fidgets with his fingers. He looks down at it, gnawing at his bottom lip.

The double knock on his door surprises him. 

He smiles at Connor, his roommate.

“Hey, man. Just coming in real quick to grab my gym bag. Didn't mean to bother you.” Connor says.

Bucky chuckles.

“No worries. You’re fine. Not a bother.”

Connor nods and goes over to his side of the room. He grabs his bag underneath the bed. When he swings it over his shoulder, Bucky is expecting him to leave, but instead he just stands there.

“A couple of us are going to the Equinox down the street and then we’re going out for some burgers later, if you want to join?”

“Thanks. But maybe later, or another day,” he finds himself rambling and looking away from Connor, “I’ll definitely be down.”

“Alright, I’ll hold you to it, man. See ya later.” Once Connor is gone, Bucky runs his right up his face and through his hair. He doesn’t know if he should be thankful for having a nice roommate or if he secretly wished he would have one that would just pretend the other wasn’t here. 

He falls back against his bed, tired.

He pulls out his phone and sends Steve a text.

What are u up to tonight?

He stares at it until Steve responds, which doesn’t take very long.

I need to finish setting up my stuff still then I need to get ready for classes Monday. I’m swamped dude, sry. :/

Bucky sighs, letting his phone drop.

Truth was, he  did  want to do something tonight. He needed a good distraction. He just wasn’t in the mood for meeting new people tonight. 

Not tonight.

He decides to order a personal pizza and just watch some movies on his laptop for the night.

Order placed, and the sun already beginning to set, he gets up and starts to fix up his desk a bit. His arm is no longer in a permanent sling, it only takes him about thirty seconds to do. After that, he pulls out his laptop, trying to decide on what to watch. 

He gets stuck between  How To Lose A Guy In Ten Days  and  Fifty First Dates.

Sue him, but Bucky loved his romcoms. 

Once he’s settled on his choice,  How To Lose A Guy In Ten Days , he gets a food delivery notification on his phone.

Cursing for losing track of time, he grabs the cash and quickly makes his way out of his dorm, making sure to grab his key on the way out.

He makes his way to the front entrance of the housing for his building, already looking forward to his little treat. 

He sees a redhead standing there, holding a pie a little larger than he expected. His stomach grumbles.

He opens the heavy front door, the tip already in hand.

“Hey, sorry. Thank you.” He reaches forward and grabs the side of the box. 

The girl turns to look at him and the look on her face is one for the books.

“ Excuse me ?” She smirks, the grip on the box tightening.

Huh?

Bucky opens his mouth to speak when—

“Order for Bucky?”

Bucky turns to see an older guy with a baseball cap holding out a much smaller pie. Bucky’s eyes go down to it and the man and back at the girl. 

He slowly lets go of the box he was gripping and clears his throat. 

“That’s mine. Yeah. Room 8.” Bucky says, taking the box from the guy.

“You paid full in card, you’re good to go, son.” The man says.

“Here, I insist.” Bucky is handing the man a twenty. The older man takes it kindly. 

“Bless you. Have a great night.” He thanks him.

Holding the warm box, he then turns back around to face that same girl again. 

She’s still smirking.

Bucky blushes.

“Sorry about that. Mere coincidence.”

She raises a brow and lets out a scoff.

“Except that your pizza is the size of your hand.”

Bucky smiles and nods. 

He chuckles and looks down.

“Yeah. It’s my own personal pizza. I’m alone so, I think it’ll be fine.”

The girl nods. 

“Understood,” she smiles sweetly this time, “I’m Natasha.”

“I’m Bucky.” 

“Hi, Bucky.”

“I would shake your hand but as you can see.”

She looks down at her own hands.

“I think it’s safe to say that I could say the same.”

They both chuckle together, letting the comfortable silence linger between them.

“Freshman, too?” She asks and Bucky nods. “Well, I guess I’ll be seeing more of you.” She gives him a half smile, “but you should go before that tiny thing gets cold.”

He tilts his head at her.

“How long have you been out here?”

She raises a brow. 

“Uhm, why?”

“Well,” he looks out into the now dark sky, “it’s getting pretty late, and a little breezy, and it’s a little dangerous to be sitting here, waiting to be set up.”

“Set up?” She acts shocked, and it quickly fades to a sad furrow. Bucky continues to look at her for another second before looking away and sighing.

“He’s a jerk.” He says.

“Yeah, whatever.” She plays with her box and looks out into the air. She balances the box in one hand as she stretches her other hand into her cross-body bag and pulls out her keys, “I’m gonna head to my room and eat my own personal pie.” She looks back up at him and their eyes stay glued for a bit before she smiles again, “I’ll see you around.”

After their goodbyes, Bucky heads up to his door and, for the first time in a while, he feels nice. He thinks that was the most he’s talked to another person in months, aside from his dad or Steve. 

It puts him in a good mood. 

One he did not expect. 

Maybe everyone was right. Maybe for just a second, he had to pretend to be a normal college boy.

With a deep breath, he opens his pizza, admiring the deliciousness that looks him back in the eye. Crisscross on his bed, he presses play on the movie.

He doesn’t get that far past the first few scenes before he realizes he ate the entire pizza already.

——

That Monday evening, he gets his nerve procedure. The following Monday, he sees Natasha in the main Library. He was looking for a specific book for one of his classes when he walks by the end table to leave. He notices a familiar shade of red hair.

“If it wasn’t so nice, I’d say you were stalking me.” He says so casually that she doesn’t look up right away.

She lowers her book and stares up at him. He smiles at her.

She looks down at his book of choice, True North, and then closes hers, The Heart Of Change. Bucky watches her, intrigued. This girl was like a fireball. 

“Guess you aren’t nice then, since you said it.”

He smirks at her. 

It’s then that her gaze trails over his arm in a sling and the heavy-looking book in his hand.

Her eyes soften, and that spitfire and playful look are gone.

“Do you need help with that?” She asks.

He looks down at what she’s referencing, and why she made that conclusion, and he clears his throat.

“No, I’m alright. I’m used to it.”

She doesn’t buy it. She stands up and gently takes the heavy book from him. He’s stunned.

When she looks back up again, their eyes meet.

“I insist.” She walks with him back to that familiar building.

When they are in front of the door, he thanks her.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Bucky.” Their eyes stay connected and Bucky feels confused. Confused because he doesn’t remember how to do this. He doesn’t remember how to be normal and just ask a girl out, because he wants to right now.

“Uhm, right. So.” She squints her eyes at his words as he tries to find them, “Would, uh, would you maybe want to hang sometime?”

“Like a date?” She asks.

He stares at her for a second before nodding.

“Yes.”

She gives him a genuine smile.

“I’d love to.” She pulls out her phone from her pocket and hands it to him, “give me your number.” He does it right away and hands it back to her. She touches something on the keypad, “I’m calling you so you have mine.” Two seconds later his phone starts ringing. She hangs up, “Text me a day and time.”

——

It happens fast. It was only Wednesday when they went on their first date. By Friday, they were already sleeping together. 

That first night, he enjoys that feeling in his tummy. He felt like he was getting that break he was hoping for all along. For the first time in a while, he saw a glimpse of hope.

Nat helped him more than she realized. He was very thankful for her and he hoped she knew that, even though he told her constantly.

——

One month later, that hope and light were quickly ripped away from him.

He had gotten a phone call from his dad while he was in his dorm room, and Connor had been sitting on his bed doing his homework.

Bucky felt a heavy wave of nausea make its way up his throat, and he felt a heavy stab in his chest. 

A strong sense of impending doom.

He felt sick. 

Completely sick and devastated.

He felt like dying.

Sensing something wrong, Connor had looked over at him and quickly put his laptop to the side to run to Bucky’s side, concerned. He barely made it there, because Bucky beat him to the bathroom where he threw up nonstop. Connor looked down at Bucky’s cell phone that he left on his bed, the call still on.

Connor slowly makes his way to the bathroom when he hears Bucky has stopped. 

Bucky stands up again and sways a bit, his eyes red and swollen. 

He walks past Connor, pushing him aside, and goes to his desk where he starts rummaging for things in the drawers. Connor watches intently as Bucky finds what he was looking for, an orange pill bottle. 

Bucky is a mess, struggling to open his opioids with his trembling hands. 

Connor squinted, knowing fully well he wasn’t due for another dose until around 2 AM. That was when his alarm always went off.

“Buck—“ Connor’s tone is knowing. Bucky is still trying to get it open, cries leaving his chest as he grips the plastic with both hands. One on the bottle, the other on the white cap. Connor runs up to him, “Bucky, stop!” The pill bottle opens up and slips out of Bucky’s hand. The bottle falls under his bed and pills go all over the floor.

“No, no, no, no.” Bucky repeats over and over again as he falls to his knees. He’s looking for them all over the floor. 

His pills.  My pills .

“Bucky, stop, please.” Connor is repeating over and over again, putting a hand on his new friend’s good shoulder. Bucky ignores him completely as his right hand glides over the floor. He manages to grab a few in his hand and he brings them to his face.

Connor’s eyes go as wide as saucers.

“Bucky, no!” Connor shouts, fighting with Bucky to get them out of his fist. His hand is over Bucky’s and they stare at each other like they are in a competition to see who would give up first.

Bucky is the first to go as his left arm twitches and he lets out a short scream, falling back against the floor the rest of the way.

The pills that were in his hand are now in Connors.

Bucky cries silently, both in physical and emotional pain.

Connor sits on his knees as he watches him fall apart.

They found his mother’s remains.

——

Every night that week, Bucky has a nightmare. The pain in his arm also comes back at full speed. The physical therapist lets him skip his two sessions for the week. 

Connor is always up with him, ready to get him whenever he needs. 

Steve and Sam come over twice that week to see if he needs anything. 

It’s on Steve’s second visit that Nat also happens to be there.

Bucky and Nat are talking when there’s a knock on the door. Nat offers to go and open it.

Like a slow-motion, dramatic-as-hell movie, the world stops moving.

Nat and Steve stood there face to face for the first time since  that  night.

Nat opens her mouth to say something but, from behind, Bucky beats her to it.

“Hey, Steve.”

Steve clears his throat and looks over to Bucky. His eyes slowly drift back towards Nat. 

“Uh, hey.”

Bucky gets up off his chair and goes to stand next to Nat, placing his right arm over her shoulder. Steve watches carefully, analyzing each move between them like a hawk.

Shit .

His stomach grows frigid and his heart breaks slightly.

“Hi.” Steve says again, to no one in particular.

Bucky gives Nat a firm squeeze.

“You can come in,” Bucky says kindly.

Steve nods and awkwardly shuffles in, making sure to now avoid all eye contact with Nat.

The last time he saw her, he had been kissing her so hard he saw literal shooting stars.

“This is Natasha, sorry I hadn’t introduced you guys yet. I was meaning to get around to it. Nat, Steve.” Bucky introduces them.

“Nice, to meet you,” Steve says, looking around the room, still slightly shocked about finding the girl he’s liked for over a year, in his best friend’s dorm.

“Likewise,” Nat says, tone unfamiliar.

“Sorry for the, ya know…” Bucky’s voice drifts off as he motions to the slight mess that is his and Connor’s room, “I’ve been packing to go home for a few weeks.”

Steve’s animosity is gone just like that.

“Don’t worry about it, man,” he looks between Bucky and Nat again. Nat walks away to go sit on Bucky’s bed while Bucky continues to sort through the belongings in his wardrobe, “If there’s anything you need, please let me know.”

Bucky sighs. 

“Thanks, but I should be busy enough to keep my mind occupied.”

“He has another surgery this Friday. Then, all next week, Mr. Rollins has given him more than enough work to keep him busy,” Nat says with a disappointed tone, “of course Mr. Rollins offered a grace period of three weeks but Bucky refused to take it.”

Bucky starts shaking his head.

“The last thing I need is to stop living my life. That’s what you taught me. Right, Nat?” After Bucky’s question, the room goes quiet again, “I can’t stop everything,” his voice breaks, “I need to try to keep going.”

Bucky’s shoulders relax as he feels Nat’s hand on his right shoulder.

“We’ll both be just a call away.” She says.

——

The drive home is too much. Whoever in his head told him it was a good idea was stupid. 

Oh, right, it was himself.

By the time he pulls his Honda into one of his dad’s apartment buildings on Madison Ave, he’s ready to pass out. 

Putting his car in park and pulling the keys out of the ignition, he tosses his head back against his seat and lets out a long breath. 

It all still felt so surreal.

No. No thoughts.

With that, he gets out, grabs his luggage, and makes his way to the lobby’s side entrance.

He ignores the sounds. He tries to focus. He needs to. He needs to stay in his head or he would lose it.

Breathe  in  ten seconds,  out ten , just like Nat taught him.

He enters the elevator, and presses his dad’s floor along with the code.

The ride up takes  too  long. He ignores the moisture that fills his eyes at the last memory he had in this elevator with his mother. 

He pushes those memories out and closes his eyes tightly together. He stands there, waiting for that ding.

When it comes, he walks off; relieved.

All the lights inside are set to dim, and the curtains are drawn closed. He doesn’t ignore the hundreds of flowers set on the floor. It feels morbid here. Bucky hates it.

He wants to leave, but he won’t. 

He walks through the foyer and into the living room.

“Dad?” He says, looking around.

“Hey.” His father is standing to the side, a glass of scotch in hand. He looks rough.  Probably just as much as me,  Bucky thinks.

His dad lets out a heavy sigh and places the glass down.

Bucky’s heart breaks even more, if possible. This entire time he had been hollowing in his own pain, when his own father was here alone, hurting and dealing with the death of his own wife, a woman he loved.

They don’t say much more before Bucky walks up to him. 

His father wraps his arms around him, hugging him tightly. They stay in a tight embrace as his father places a small kiss on the top of his head, his hand going there to comfort him.

That’s when Bucky loses it again.

——

There was no personal urn. They were given her ashes in a discreet and small black box, which they would later bury under a small oak tree. They would plant the tree on top and it would grow in her memory. It was Bucky’s idea and his father liked it. 

The funeral is the next morning. It felt impersonal. Ninety percent of the invitees were people Bucky didn’t even know, along with a lot of press waiting outside the premises. There was also a big police presence, given the circumstance of his mother’s death and what happened with Bucky, which still remained a secret from the public.

The ride to the penthouse is silent, but a different kind of silence than the one Bucky felt when he first learned of her confirmed death. He doesn’t know what it is, but he and his father make peace with it.

When they arrive, they help each other get rid of the already dying flowers and clean the home. They didn't care that they had a well-paid housekeeper for that, the next three weeks would be about bonding and letting everything settle in. 

They make dinner together. Nothing too special, some roasted chicken with potatoes and string beans.

By their second week, things were feeling a bit better. Even Bucky was starting to already think about new beginnings, maybe even restarting old endings.

It’s over some stir fry that he mentions it.

“How’s school going?” Mr. Barnes asks, “I’m still disappointed you chose Harvard over Dartmouth.”

Bucky sighs, not wanting to have this conversation again.

“It’s good. It’s good for me.” He ignores the second comment completely.

His dad hums in response.

“Things are going well with Nat?”

Bucky nods.

“They are. She’s good for me.”

“That she is. She’s also very smart. She’s going to make a fine wife to a good lawyer one day.” 

Bucky can’t help but cringe at the sexist comment, and totally ignores the marriage one.

“She is very smart.”

They continue to eat in silence for a little longer.

“I’m thinking I’m picking up some extra cash,” Bucky says and eats takes a spoon of mashed potatoes.

Mr. Barnes perks a brow at him and then dabs his mouth with the napkin.

“You planning on working the clubhouse for another summer again? You know come senior year, I’ll have you getting ready to intern at the company.”

Bucky swallows the last of his potatoes and looks away from his dad.

“No, not the clubhouse.”

“Then what?”

Bucky swirls his spoon around for a bit and picks up more potatoes.

“I’m thinking of doing some gigs again. Some small ones. Maybe during break. Just some small coffee houses.”

There’s a long silence before his dad responds. He knows he’s disappointed, but he also knows how much Bucky used to love to play.

His son is mourning, and he doesn’t want to take this away right now.

“Can you still play after?” Bucky knows he’s asking about his hand.

“I can. Took some time, but looks like it’s still there.”

Mr. Barnes nods.

“I’m not for or against it. As long as it’s only one break.”

“Of course, dad.”

_____

Harvard Vs. Dartmouth’s first football game.

The air was static and on fire. The crowd was contagious, and a few months after probably the worst days of Bucky’s life, he was finally feeling back on top again.

He couldn’t find a better time to feel himself again than at a football game with his girlfriend.

Nat’s hand was in his as he pulled her down the steps to one of the benches farther down. They said hi to some of their classmates as they made their way down.

Thanks to Connor who played for their school, his team was able to save Bucky, Steve, sam, and Nat a good area for them to enjoy the game.

The couple quickly spotted Steve and Sam. Steve and Bucky’s eyes met, and Steve felt guilty.

Just a few weeks ago, Bucky finally had the guts to ask him if anything had happened between him and Nat, where Steve finally told him the truth. Ever since there had been this awkward tension between them.

Bucky’s hand was on Nat’s waist as he guided her first down the row to sit closest to Steve and Sam.

The crow around them goes wild. When Bucky sits next to Nat, he looks over at her and pulls the red beanie tighter over her head. She looks over at him and smiles. He leans forward and gives her a quick peck.

“Connor’s a badass,” Sam says, another cheer coming from the crowd.

Nat pulls out a box of skittles from her jacket pocket and offers Bucky some. He stretches out his hands and takes a couple, tossing them back into his mouth.

She turns to Steve and he barely glances at her and gives her a short no. Sam takes half the box. Steve keeps his eyes straight ahead as Nat reaches over to take the box from him. 

Bucky pretends not to notice, taking the box from Nat to grab a few more. 

About forty minutes into the game, Bucky starts to notice Nat shivering a bit more. He takes his jacket off, offering to give it to her.

“Bucky, it’s okay, really. I’m fine. You need it more than me, anyway. You know you need the warmth—”

“I don’t care, Nat. I’m not letting you catch a cold.”

Bucky could practically feel Steve roll his eyes as Bucky catches a glimpse of him over his shoulder.

That’s just about what does it for Bucky before he lets out a long sigh and finishes taking off his jacket.

“Take it,” He ignores her protests as he places it over her shoulders, “I have to run out to the car and grab something. I’ll probably grab the small blanket I saw in there anyway.”

“Okay.” She says.

Bucky looks back over at Steve.

“Steve said he left something there earlier, and I just remembered he has to come to look at it to make sure it’s the right one,” Steve’s eyebrows comically furrow in complete confusion before he looks over at his best friend, “If you want to come, too?”

Steve looks at him, lost. Reluctantly, he nods. 

Steve follows Bucky up the stairs and then through the hallway that led back to where all the stairs were. Steve really thinks Bucky is going to go towards the parking lot area, so when Bucky suddenly stops and Steve almost walks straight into him, he’s shocked. 

Bucky turns around and looks at him, furiously.

“What’s going on?” Steve asks, genuinely not knowing what was happening.

“You,” Bucky says, glad there was no one around except for a soda machine, “Why are you being such an ass to her?” Steve’s mouth opens and closes. This frustrates Bucky even more, “I get the whole thing about you and her and you liked her and all that, but you don’t have to take whatever it is you’re still feeling about her on her. She did nothing wrong.”

Steve’s mouth is still gaping open. He stands up taller on his feet and lets out a long sigh. It was ironically funny that they were the same height. 

“Bucky.”

“I’m serious man. I asked you if you still had feelings for her, and I have a feeling you lied to me. Tell me the truth and I’ll…” Bucky sighs and runs a hand through his hair, “I don’t know, but you don’t gotta be this way.”

“Bucky, stop.” Steve says firmly, “I didn’t realize I was being an ass or acting like one,” Bucky gives him an are-you-shitting-me face, “I’m serious, I didn’t! I guess it’s just coming out. I just…” Steve lets out a long breath, “Look, you’re a good guy. You’re probably one of the sweetest guys ever. And I’m not trying to get with you or something when I say it, but it’s true, okay? You’re this super nice guy and you’re a good best friend. You’re great, and all the girls love you, in a different way than they like me.” Bucky’s face falls.

“Steve—”

“No, let me finish because it’s not what you think. I’m not saying I’m jealous of you, because it’s not that. I get girls. It’s not that. It’s the  relationship . You’re my best friend and I do want the best for you. I will always want the best for you. And I gave you that permission to keep being with her, me knowing good and well you would drop her for me in a second if I asked, because that’s who you are, but I’m not going to take something great from you for selfish reasons.” Steve clenches his teeth and his jaw tightens, “But I know what she told me that night, and I know what we felt, and I know that that night meant a lot to her, too.” Bucky’s eyes drop, “I’m sorry, I know it’s uncomfortable to talk about, but I might as well say it now.”

“I’m all ears.”

“I’m not saying I want her to betray you in any way or for something to happen, but do you know how frustrating it is for me to be around her for as long as I have and for her to act like she just met me for the first time four months ago?” Bucky’s face falls, “It’s not you that I’m upset with. I’m upset with the lack of compassion from her. So, I’m sorry if I’m making these faces without realizing it. It’s hard.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry, I—” Bucky looks around and then back to Steve, “I was so busy thinking about the other things it could be that I didn’t stop to think about how  she’s  really treated  you .”

“Look, Bucky. It’s not our fault we have the same taste, and it’s not like you took some girl from me knowing I was with her or something. We were never really together officially. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But, still. You like her, Steve.” Bucky says with no hesitation, “Do you want me to tell her something?”

 “What? No!”

“I can just tell her to speak to you, maybe if you guys spoke about this.”

 “And then what?”

“She’d stop treating you like you meant nothing to her.”

“Buck—“

 “We both know her well enough to know she’s not like that. We know that meant something to her, maybe there’s a reason she’s been standoffish.”

“And then what, Bucky? What if she has a reason? That won’t make you uncomfortable? How about us three, our dynamic? It’s not that simple.”

“If she feels the same way, then it is what it is,” Bucky says simply, defeated. Steve stares at him surprised. Shocked. Almost offended at his best friend’s lack of  his  own compassion.

“She loves you, Bucky.”

Bucky sighs and looks down at the ground.

“We were going to talk about it anyway. Nat and I are great together, she’s helped me through so much. So much. And she’s an amazing person. She’s smart, a little fireball, sweet, she  is  compassionate, and she’s beautiful. What we have, is exactly what we both needed when we needed it. She taught me so much. Don’t shake your head back and forth, because she and I have talked about this already. Aside from the physical aspect of our relationship, her and I are really just really great—”

“Don’t say it, jerk.”

“ Friends .” Bucky says, “It’s not official yet, but we don’t know where this will take us. If it doesn’t last—”

“Bucky, stop this.”

“I’m serious! If it doesn’t last, what do  you  have to lose?”

“You’re telling me to go after your girlfriend?”

 “I’m telling you that she and I are going to talk again and depending on where that talk goes, you should take your chance and talk to her. If your fear is ruining my relationship with her and you, at least then you shouldn’t have anything to worry about.”

“ Bucky .”

Bucky places a hand on Steve’s shoulder and gives him a firm squeeze.

“I’ll let you know when I speak to her. Until then, try to keep your facial expressions in check. It’s pissing me off, Stevie.”

——

The weather outside was chilly and brisk. It’s the second winter in a row where there would be no snow on Christmas. Bucky was back in New York City for winter break with Natasha at his side. They both decided this would be a great opportunity to see if what was left of their fire was still enough there to make more of a relationship. 

They would try more romantic things. Despite this private conversation with his best friend, Bucky wasn’t going to treat his relationship with Nat unfairly. He was still fully committed until they tried everything.

The second stop of their winter break was at a bar in Chelsea. 

Bucky’s first gig in three years. He was nervous, beyond nervous even, but he also felt this sense of renovation. He was also excited.

The bar had a comforting and warm setting. The lights on the stage were bright as the others were dimmed down. On each table, there was a little candle.

The chatter died down as the mic squeaked over the sound system. Bucky’s eye catches Nat in the front where she sits at a round table. 

He smiles.

He clears his throat as now all the eyes are on him, waiting. 

He feels the cold chain of his dog tag around his neck and over his chest. A reminder.

He’s sitting down, his acoustic guitar settled on his right thigh. He puts his right foot on his chosen pedal. 

The whole place is quiet now except for some plates and utensils in the distance.

“I would like to dedicate this one to my beautiful mother. She’s not here with us anymore, but she’ll always be with me in my heart. Love you, momma.” 

The lights dim even more. He swallows thickly and licks his lips, eyes flickering up to the ceiling for just a second.

The first strum is heavy and sweet, and the chords that follow it, match its beauty and symphony. 

His voice adds gravel to it, a little imperfection added in that makes it authentically warm and personal. 

His voice flows like honey over each chord, and while, physically he’s in that coffee house, mentally he is very far away.

——

Little treat:

Quick flash forward four years in Grafton, Vermont.

Despite Bucky’s promise to his dad, he tries to play at least every year for every winter break in the city.

Now 24, since this is his first year since graduating (after deciding to do one more), he’s wrapped up. He feels sad about it. He’s having his last drink of the night, making small talk with the bartender, Lucas.

“This is your last one? For real this time?” Lucas asks, a sad tone in his voice.

“For real, Luke.” Bucky takes the last sip of his drink, and his black guitar swings behind his back. He lets out a long breath. “Thanks, man.” 

He slides the empty shot glass back against the table. 

It’s then that Bucky hears the most beautiful sound. A laugh. His eyes shoot up. It’s a girl. He can’t see her, but he can see the back of her head. She was a little shorter than the other girl standing next to her. He couldn’t see their faces. She laughs once more and his heart flutters. 

He doesn’t know if it’s because it’s his fifth drink of the night, but with that shine around her and that laughter, he feels a pull like never before. 

He doesn’t have time to even react before the girl — whoever she was — was already walking out with the other girl.

@rebloggingmyrecs​ @kjdara​ @angstsebfan @lethallyprotected​ @lilfuturescars​ @ccmarvelxx​ @thesneakylittleminx​ @empress-of-riva @death-unbecomes-you​ @sonicisnotsober​ @sebsgirl71479 @prettywhenicry4

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky #marvel #mcu #marvel fanfic

[lazinesswrites]

Writing Patterns

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

I was tagged by @auburnlaughter a little while ago; thank you! ❤

I'm doing the latest 10 fics I've posted to Ao3, oldest first, and I'll include links because... every excuse to self-promote? Everything here is Star Wars, most of it Bad Batch (from before s3, save the last two), and most of that is more or less Crosshair-centric.

Sunrise Caf (TCW post-war AU, pre-CodyWan, 1k, G)

“Do you still prefer your caf black, now that you have access to more options?” Obi-Wan asks as Cody sits down at the small kitchen table in Obi-Wan’s new apartment.

Labor of love is ours to endure (TBB s1 finale AU-CD, 4.6k, T)

Wrecker watches as Hunter talks to Crosshair about chances; watches as Omega says her piece too.

To feel your heart as it's keeping time (TBB, Batch twins, 3.3k, G)

Since Crosshair’s recent and long-awaited return to their squad, Tech has found that treating him like one would a feral tooka has been relatively successful in getting the sniper to relax around him.

Don't You Doubt (TBB, Cross & Hunter, 2.5k, T, part of a series)

Pabu is very quiet at night.

And please be there; I can barely hang on (But oh I wait 'til I break) (TBB, h/c, 3.8k, T) (this one's in Russian too!)

Crosshair didn't know they'd be here.

Mirjahaal (TBB, pre-show, 2.1k, G)

Echo doesn’t know what Crosshair’s problem is.

Breakthrough on Bracca (TBB, AU-CD, 4.6k, T)

Crosshair wakes to a face on fire and a clear mind.

Change of Heart, Change of Plans (TBB, AU-CD, 5.6k, G)

A flash of white armor in his periphery, accompanied by the sound of familiar voices – or rather, one familiar voice from multiple people – has Hunter diverting from their route, leading his siblings into a dark and dank alley, waiting for the troopers to pass.

We're Still What's Left (TBB s3e4 cont., grief, 1.7k, T)

“But… how did you escape?” Hunter asks the kid, and Crosshair figures that’s his cue, even if he’s not sure he’s quite ready for whatever awaits him out there.

Homecoming Heroes (TBB, sequel to above, 2.8k, T)

Pabu is… nice.

Thoughts and tags below the cut:

So... Patterns? I was gonna say something about fairly long sentences, but then half of them turned out to be pretty short, actually 😅

I guess I try to set the scene: Who's there, what are they doing, what's the Problem (if the characters know, yet) etc. Try to make clear what canon scene we've jumped into, when relevant (I.e. in Labor of love, which picks up towards the end of Kamino Lost, when Hunter has just said something like 'you gave us a chance Crosshair; this is yours' and Omega has said 'they're still your brothers, Crosshair. You're my brother too.', which is what Wrecker's thoughts are referring to.)

I also tend to start right in the middle of Something, especially in the more action-filled ones. This is both because I then avoid losing people to "boring" exposition or world-building or descriptions right out of the gate, and also because beginnings are Hard, so the way I typically start writing a fic (or anything, really) is to start with whatever scene I've got in mind that sparked the idea for the rest of the fic, regardless of when it actually takes place, and then build the rest around it. Or by writing notes/something like an outline if I don't have a specific scene in mind but more just a sort of general feeling or plot or theme or something I want to write about, and then expand those into text-text. This approach means I often end up explaining the things that need explaining throughout the fic, so there's no need to put it all at the beginning. And also - it's fanfic. By far most of my readers will already be familiar with the characters and general setting; I just need to make clear where and how we might deviate from that.

That's all, I think. But hey! if you got this far and you noticed something I didn't, why don't you tell me? (please be nice, though, I'm not looking for critique; just curious)

NPTs: @whimsicalmeerkat @hxad-ovxr-hxart @spacemagicandlaserswords @battlekilt

#star wars #tag games #Ao3 links #TBB fic #TCW fic #tbb season 3

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

No Net Ensnares Me

A Conclusion to The Birds They Put in Cages 

Summary: A year has gone by. Danielle is expecting, Loki is enduring, and you are slowly attempting to rebuild your life without him. When Hydra terrorists take Avengers Tower (and everyone inside) hostage, you find yourself reluctantly taking your love for the God of Mischief out of storage in order to save the day.

I guess people like happy endings. I was definitely not planning a sequel for this, yet here we are. The lesson? Don’t listen to your parents, friends, family, clergy, or probation officers, kids: peer pressure always works! 

Content Warning: hostage situation, thematic danger Word Count: 4.8k

“Happy Anniversary, darling!” Marcus Ashton-Banks toasted his daughter and son-in-law with a small flute of champagne, grinning like a victorious war general. “To many more years of bliss!”

The party in Avengers Tower was in full swing. The room was filled with only about one hundred-fifty or so of the most elite of the social scene, all dressed to the nines in celebration of Danielle and Loki’s first wedding anniversary. Soft, classy music twinkled throughout the room, drinks flowed freely, and Loki spent the entire time hanging out with Thor and Tony over by the bar, watching his wife flaunt her pregnancy underneath a slinky red dress.

Every time he looked at his wife’s belly, he sighed in sadness.

“So, you’re really saying it’s not yours?” asked Tony, throwing back a shot of top-shelf whiskey.

Loki nodded. “We came to an arrangement when I couldn’t bring myself to sleep with her. It’s her tennis partner’s. He agreed to give up parental rights at birth.”

Tony chuckled. “You really couldn’t bring himself to, uh, what do you fancypants gods call it? Sire an heir?”

“Absolutely not,” Loki sighed. “But Marcus and Dany wanted a baby almost immediately. As long as the public doesn’t find out—”

“—you know, brother, out of everyone in the Nine Realms, you’d be one of the last people I’d expect to roll over for the will of mortals like a lapdog,” Thor scoffed, taking his favorite beer glass and chugging the last third of the ale within it.

Because they broke me, Loki thought, although he wouldn’t say that part out loud. Dark elves and vengeful deities couldn’t do what two Midgardians accomplished with one blackmail scheme. Fucking humans.

Loki was eternally grateful to Danielle and her father when they agreed to have another man father her baby. The wedding night had been an absolute disaster, and Dany quickly discovered that even a creature with the sex drive of an insatiable immortal could not be moved when it came to affairs of the heart. She was no fool, she knew what she was taking away from her husband. Angry as she was that she had a dead-end marriage from the get-go, Dany wasn’t a quitter.

Sadly, she had not called for an annulment when the sex issue was decided. In fact, she doubled down on insisting that they share everything and would grow closer with time. After she showed him her positive pregnancy test six months ago, Loki felt the trap door finally release from underneath him. Fate was his hangman, and now his life had come to a quick drop and a sudden stop.

It was a boy, and Loki already knew that Dany was planning on making the announcement tonight, along with the declaration that he would be named Marcus Lokisson Ashton-Banks Jr. He found the name laughable. The kid was going to sound like a law firm.

In the end, the Ashton-Banks family called it a compromise: the baby (and any future children) would be Loki’s on paper only, and Loki would be given the precious gift of a separate bedroom from his wife (provided he didn’t have extramarital affairs) in return for continued compliance with the charade.

“Oh, honey! Darling, come here!” Danielle shouted excitedly in the general direction of the bar. “It’s time to announce!”

Loki looked at Thor, who shrugged. “Duty calls,” he quipped, setting his glass aside, painting an expression of contentment on his face, and striding slowly towards his wife, who greeted him with a mouthful of veneers (half of the past year alone was Loki sitting and waiting for Dany to get back from her cosmetic dentist after some new procedure to make her teeth glow even more).

“Everyone! We have something to share!” Dany clinked her wine glass, as did Marcus, until the room fell silent. Danielle took Loki’s hand, playing the part of loving wife to a T. Loki, for his benefit, did a quality job looking happy about becoming a father.

“So, Loki and I just found out what the gender of the baby is!” Everyone oohed and aahed with artificial interest. Loki had to keep from rolling his eyes or giving a sarcastic look to Thor. “So, we’re having a bouncing baby—”

A crash broke through the room. Glass and people went flying as a bomb on the floor below exploded up into the party. Screams and blood filled the room as people began ducking and scrambling. Loki and Danielle fell to the floor, Loki spreading himself over her body until the debris settled.

The Avengers instantly assembled in the middle of the room. Steve Rogers, of course, was commanding the attention of everyone else with his assuring authority.

“Everyone stay low and stay here!”

“Oh, nobody should be moving at all, Captain.”

A swarm of masked men entered the room, all armed with AR-15s and rabid looks in their eyes. People were still trying the scream for help, at least until they were met with the barrel of the mens’ rifles and orders to stay quiet.

The man at the center of the situation, tall and imposing, spoke with an Eastern European accent. “I apologize for forgetting my invitation to this soiree, but I have been hunting for years for something that I believe is hidden here, and no one will be leaving this Tower alive until it is in my hands.”

“You have no idea what you’re up against!” someone shouted bravely from behind the bar, just before a terrorist standing next to him fired his gun directly into the brave fool’s skull, sending the room into a chaotic fit.

Loki looked to Thor and mouthed “call your damn mallet already.”

Thor shook his head. “Too many guns on the people.”

Loki closed his eyes, wishing he could send out a projection without anyone noticing, but even that would be entirely too dangerous right now.

Suddenly, a certain classic novel came to his mind, and something from within its’ pages gave him an idea on how to summon help. Maybe he could try a different kind for projection, and he knew exactly who he wanted to send it out to. Loki closed his eyes and began to concentrate.

Meanwhile, over near the bar, Tony looked down at the dead man near his feet. “Thor, do we have anyone on the outside?”

Thor thought a moment. “A few minor employees, maybe. Oh, and Clint couldn’t make it tonight. Sick kids.”

“Well let’s hope Katniss has the smarts to gather who he can, and soon, because this is Hydra, so we may be here for a while.”

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

Well, here’s to a year without you, babe, you mock-toasted from your apartment in Newark, raising a half-empty can of Labatt and grunting at the TV. You had decided to leave the City entirely. You couldn’t stay around. Even in a town of millions upon millions, you just knew you’d bump into your former flame at some point, and you didn’t want to risk it. The day Danielle and Loki announced that they were expecting a child was the day you spent moving your few possessions into your cousin’s place. Your cousin Luke Rivers was nice enough, but a little cold, and a LOT religious.

“Y/N, maybe you should switch to water, you’ve had eight of those in three hours,” Luke said quietly, bringing out a tray of pizza rolls and potato skins. “We can put on Blazing Saddles or something to take your mind off it.”

“Like you’d know how to take your mind off of the man you loved having a baby with that silicone-based lifeform,” you answered, reaching for a pizza roll, not caring that it burned your fingers. “You’ve never even had a date.”

Luke shrugged. “No one interests me. Is that my fault?”

“It is when someone DID interest you, but you let her get away,” you mumbled bitterly. “She was nice too, and she was really into you, moron.”

Luke sighed and took a pizza roll. “She deserved better than me. I didn’t have what she needed.”

“God, you’re dumb,” you replied, popping the pizza roll in your mouth and letting the pain of the roof of your mouth instantly scald you without so much as a flinch. “The Toxic Avenger was right. There’s no hope in New Jersey.”

Luke took up the remote and began switching through channels. “Maybe a DC movie is on.”

However, the instant you saw the image of Avengers Tower smoking from the top floors on NBC, a “Breaking News” banner flashing along the bottom of the screen, you held up a hand and told Luke to stop with the remote.

A deep-voiced announcer was explaining the breaking story. “Local authorities and federal SWAT agents are on the scene, but the group known as Hydra, has explosives and trigger sensors placed at all doors. Police believe nearly all of the Avengers are among the 143 hostages, including billionaire tech tycoon Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, aka Captain America, and Thor and Loki, Gods of Asgard.”

“Fuck!” you cried out. Luke cringed.

“Also inside are Loki’s wife, heiress and philanthropist Danielle Ashton-Banks, and her father, Marcus Ashton-Banks. Loki and Ashton-Banks are expecting a child later this summer.”

“Christ, was THAT detail really relevant to the story?” you sighed.

“Language,” Luke muttered.

The day the news came out that Loki was going to be a father was the day you began drinking. You thought you could handle the announcement (hell, you’d been bracing for it since hearing those stupid gossip segments about the pair of them honeymooning on a private nude beach in Cabos), but things somehow became more bearable when your brain was swimming in Jägermeister. Anything to block out the fact that Loki had been able to stomach a way to have sex with Danielle, even though the whole time, you knew he’d be procreating with her.

It didn’t help that on occasion, you could swear you heard his voice calling you. On several nights, you found yourself waking up with a voice hoarse from screaming, your arm outstretched as if reaching for someone, and Luke standing in the doorway, puzzled and startled.

“Hydra has admitted to already killing three staff members inside the building, bringing their bodies and laying them out in front as a testament to their lethality and the seriousness of the situation. They have disabled the Avengers and pledged to kill one person for every two hours that their demands are not met. Hydra has yet to make those demands clear to the press, although the Chief of the NYPD is on the scene, insisting they are currently in negotiations, and that he is optimistic that a peaceful solution can be reached.”

“Not likely,” you said sharply. “I need to go.”

“No, you don’t,” said Luke. “You haven’t worked there for ages. You aren’t even ALLOWED back there!”

“But there’s a way in the building they might have missed. I know about it. I should at least tell the police about it.”

“I know what this is about,” Luke assessed. “You think if you become the Avengers’ Great Savior, that Loki’s marriage will break down and he’ll run back to you. Well, newsflash my cos, he’s having a baby! That’s kind of the final nail in the coffin, yes?”

“But this is his LIFE! This is his baby’s life! This is about everyone up there!” you fought.

“You can’t go,” Luke insisted.

Someone knocked at the door. You got up. “I ordered egg rolls, by the way. Tonight is the Feast of the Deep-Fried Saints.”

You peeked through the peephole and couldn’t believe who you saw waiting for you. It was Hawkeye, in full armor, arrows sticking out of the quiver on his back. Four people stood behind him, and two of the women you recognized, for they’d also worked in the Tower with you for a while, albeit downstairs in HR.

“Y/N? Are you—”

You opened the door. “Clint? What are you doing here?”

“Can we come in?” asked Clint. “I trust you’ve seen the news.”

You motioned quietly for everyone to pile in to your small living room. Luke looked confused.

“Hey, you’re Hawkeye,” Luke said, stunned. “Wow.”

“Clint, are you seriously planning a violent breach without police approval?” you asked sternly, putting your hands on your hips.

“Yes.”

“Good, then you came to the right place,” you replied. “Let’s have some fun.”

Luke stood up and gently put a hand on your shoulder. “Y/N—”

“—I will do the right thing, Luke. If it bothers you, go in your room,” you answered, shaking your head and delicately pushing his hand off of you. Luke nodded and left you along with your former co-workers.

“Now, Hydra has every door guarded,” said Clint. “Motion triggers and bombs, mostly, but I wouldn’t be shocked if there was a sniper or two.”

“Probably not at the old dumbwaiter by the loading dock. That garage is open-air, and so they would be guarding the door inside the garage, but the dumbwaiter is on the other side, and it’d be easy to get to without being seen by anyone by that door. It’s pretty large, big enough for two if we can curl up and deal with tight spaces for a few floors.”

Clint shrugged. “But a dumbwaiter wouldn’t go up 140 floors.”

You nodded. “Correct, it goes as high as the kitchens on the third floor. It gets us inside, but after that, the rest has to come from us.”

“So, if we can get to the kitchens, we can arm the rest of you and ninja our way up,” Clint strategized. “Y/N, you and I can lead.”

You nodded. “I just hope we know what we’re doing.”

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

Four more people were killed and left outside by Hydra during the night, all four were rich acquaintances of the Ashton-Banks Family, but Danielle hardly cared to know them. She and Loki spent the night sitting in a corner of the meeting hall on the 105th floor, where everyone who hadn’t been gunned down execution-style was herded into, away from windows and sight of the military. Thor sat next to them, quiet and uncharacteristically nervous.

At 7:30 am, dawn was breaking, and soon Hydra would likely be taking another victim. Danielle had fallen asleep, slumped in the corner, leaving Loki and Thor a little freedom to quietly whisper, although Loki was still busy trying to concentrate on manifesting his idea.

“How is she doing?” Thor asked.

Loki looked over his shoulder at his wife’s sleeping frame. “She’s fine.”

“I didn’t mean her,” Thor said, winking.

“What the Hel are you talking about?”

Thor raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been trying to covertly send a projection to Y/N. I know it. I may be a bit of a fun-loving lout at a party, but I’m not brainless.”

Loki shook his head. “She knew the building. Trouble is I can’t splice myself without a physical separation. You saw how I had to hide behind the altar to send myself out to her at the wedding! It’s not something I can do with just my mind.”

Danielle shifted in her sleep, and the rustle of her dress was almost too loud.

Thor cringed. “And that’s what you’re trying to do now? Any hints of a success?”

Loki thought back to six months ago, the night after he’d held the press conference announcing Dany’s pregnancy. He’d been woken up by her, and apparently, he was speaking out in his slumber, calling out for an unnamed entity. Loki recalled seeing your eyes floating off into the darkness as he hovered in that void between consciousness and the plane of dreams.

“I think she’s too far away. She could be anywhere in the world by now. Knowing her, she left town a long time ago. She was in Newark when I last saw her, one year and one day ago.”

Loki sighed with quiet longing. One year without you down, the rest of them to go.

Suddenly, several of the soldiers guarding the room began to scramble. Orders were being barked out in some Cyrillic dialect. Something was going on.

“Does anyone speak Russian?” someone from near the door asked.

“No, idiot, it’s Sokovian,” a second chimed in.

Gunshots from several floors down rang out, and the shouts intensified, making the hostages rustle.

“There’s been a breech downstairs. Not police. They think it’s Hawkeye,” a lady explained. “Be quiet! There’s more!”

Thor turned his head just in time to see Steve scooting over in his direction. “Hey Thunder. I think now’s the time to act. Loki, if you want to stay here and protect your wife, I understand. Things will get hot.”

“Loki’s cooking up something different, I think,” said Thor. “But I am with you. Where’s Stark?”

The woman who spoke Sokovian chimed up again. “They said there’s a huge trigger three floors below us in the stairwell. Everyone, get away from the doors!”

“Hawkeye’ll die if he hits it!”

Loki’s ears perked.

“He’s with a small group of office workers and lab assistants. They’ve been making their way up the tower all night!”

Loki felt his body run cold, and something akin to an explosion of darkness blinded him from behind his eyes. He could hear something new. Your heaving breaths, as if you’d been running for hours without rest. Or, perhaps, slowly snaking up a building over a hundred stories high to try and rescue your former lover.

Y/N…can you hear me? Y/N? Use the west stairwell, not the main one…

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

“Chickenhawk, I think we need to switch to the smaller stairwell by the west corner,” you informed Clint as you were hiding in a bathroom stall, the doors locked and the lights out, waiting for the soldiers to clear the floor.

“You know, Y/N, we don’t need the code names,” he replied.

“I know,” you smiled. “I just think calling you Chickenhawk is funny.”

Clint rolled his eyes. “I’m going to ignore that for now, and anyway, why do you want to do that? We’d have to cross the whole floor! If they didn’t have triggers all over this place before, they sure as hell do now.”

“We’d need a distraction,” one of your compatriots suggested from the next stall. “So…who wants to get a water fountain dedicated to them in the atrium? Not it!”

“Not it!” “Not it!”

“Um, people,” Clint chimed in. “Did you forget that I have arrows with tiny bombs on them? I just need someone to cover me.”

“We have to do this. I think…I think it’s trapped,” you said softly, trying to decipher the voice softly cooing in your ear in Loki’s baritone. You were definitely losing your grip.

“Well, then you and I go out there. Beta Squad heads right for the west corner, got it?” Clint commanded. “If we can subdue them here, it’ll probably be easy to take out the rest of ‘em. My arrows will do that work. I just have to not suck at shooting them.”

“Then let’s go!” you said back. Clint nodded and popped out of the stall, you trailing, then the others following behind you.

Clint began shooting as the barrage of bullets almost immediately greeted you, sending you into a spiral down to the floor, hoping the shadows would cover you. One arrow, two, then four, each exploding and sending bodies shooting up and over you as you crawled and shot. Everything stood still and rushed by you all at once as you continued your progression through the floor, the Beta Team successfully making it to the safe stairwell and starting to make their way to the party to liberate the hostages.

“Keep going!” Clint hollered. “I almost have them!”

“Not yet you don’t!” you replied, aiming a pistol at a terrorist, screaming like a fool as he attempted to charge you and taking him out easily.

“You know what? Sure, I could use you,” he caved. “Now, let’s finish this. I want to go to bed.”

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

Five minutes later, the bombs and gunshots ceased. The Beta Team had swept the area of guards, so when it was you and Hawkeye who came up through the smoke in the stairwell, cheers and shouts of thanksgiving erupted.

Police and military flooded the building in minutes, of course, questioning everyone in the room and arresting the terrorists who’d survived the scuffle downstairs. You just wanted to leave, because out of the corner of your eye, you could see Danielle Ashton-Banks, round with child and in an impossibly tight red dress, run towards Loki, crying “Darling! I was so afraid! Thank God you’re alright!”

They kissed and Loki smiled, looking up and suddenly spotting you from across the room.

You couldn’t deal with this anymore. You saved the day, very good. Now, you had to fulfill your obligation to them to leave them alone. It would be best if you just slipped away…

You didn’t notice Loki follow you with his eyes as you left the room, making his stomach fall. He took a deep breath and pushed away from Dany’s grip on him.

“Dany, I know this is probably the single worst time to bring this up, but if I don’t do this now, I never will.”

“What is it, darling?” she asked.

“Look, Danielle,” Loki began. “I can offer you mountains of Asgardian gold and jewels. I can give you a noble title and a place in our society that would make your position here on Midgard look like a play act. I can even offer you my patience, time, and ear. But there is one thing I cannot offer you, no matter how hard to try to paint the tableau of an ideal family for the world to see.”

“Your heart,” Dany replied, looking down. “I do love you, you know. For real.”

“I understand this,” he replied. “But you’ve known that another has had my soul for a long time. She still has it now, and in your love for me, you thought it was best to rip my happiness away for your own benefit.”

Tears began pouring from her eyes and she nodded. “I know, and I’m sorry. I always get what I want. And I…I want you.”

“When I was on Asgard, I had to rely on my wits and magic to get what I wanted. You have to learn to be resourceful, Dany. You don’t love me in the way you think you do. And out there, there’s someone who does love me in that way, and every step she takes further from me I feel more need for her.”

Dany looked up again and held her belly. “You’re calling for a divorce?”

Loki shook his head. “I can’t. Your father is keeping me here on threat of death, you know that. It would have to be you who asked for it.”

Dany sighed. “I don’t want to, Loki. You are mine.”

“Dany, listen to me, this is for you too,” Loki said, taking her hand in his and looking her directly in the pupil. “Why would you want to spend your days living a lie like this? When you too could be finding a lover that would fall at your feet of his own choosing?”

“I…I never thought of it like that,” Dany said, turning away. “You couldn’t bring yourself to have sex with me. I wanted it to be your baby. I thought when I had it, you’d feel a fatherly instinct and start to bond with me.”

Loki shook his head. “I must be blunt, I could not love you like a husband should. In my heart, I’m married to Y/N. I was with her in spirit there last year, even as my corporeal body recited their vows to you.”

Dany sighed and thought a moment. “Well, then, if that’s true, that settles it.”

“What does?”

“We don’t need a divorce, because you weren’t of sound mind and body when you married me. Legally, that’s not consenting to a marriage. We just need an annulment,” she said sadly. “And…I’ll sign off on it.”

Loki perked up, smiling. “Really?”

“Yes,” Dany said quietly. “And don’t worry about Daddy. I’ll talk him down. You’ll be fine.”

Loki put a hand on her shoulder and kissed her eyebrow. “Thank you for this gift, Danielle. You’ve made me happy.”

Danielle was crying openly. “We can make arrangements to move you out later. I just…I can’t be around you right now. I’m sure you get it.” With that, she turned away and briskly walked towards where her father was hysterically having a freak-out.

Loki looked after her a moment and smiled, thankful to say goodbye to his wife. Then he turned on his heel and made his way in the direction he’d seen you go, hoping he could catch up to you before you left the city.

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

You were able to slip away from everyone. You didn’t want to stay there with Loki and Danielle a moment longer than you needed to. So, you were able to disappear into the night and find the nearby subway station, surprisingly crowded for the late hour.

Smushed in between a young girl in a miniskirt readying a book and some older woman with a paper bag full of fish, you just wanted all of this to be over forever. If you could have wiped your mind clean of any memory of Loki, you would have gladly taken the opportunity in that moment to do so.

You noticed that the young woman in front of you was reading Jane Eyre, and you felt the memories make you want to cry all over again.

“Wait’ll you get to the part about what’s in the attic,” you said quietly. “You don’t see it coming the first time.”

The young girl looked up to you and grinned. “This is far from my first time reading this, Y/N. In fact, I can quote it, as can you.”

Somehow, no one around you seemed to notice the teenage girl morph into one of the most notable men on the planet. You even gasped.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you whispered. “You should be back with your wife and child!”

“My what? I don’t have a wife, nor do I have a child as far as I know.”

You looked at him inquisitively. “What do you mean? Danielle? And the baby?”

Loki shook his head. “Because I projected myself to you on our wedding day, the marriage is going to be annulled, and she has agreed to it,” he said softly but happily.

“But the baby?”

“I couldn’t, Y/N, I couldn’t bring myself to make love to her. It’s her tennis instructor’s!” he declared.

“Oh my god,” you replied, and it was all you could muster before Loki took your face in his hands, giving you the greatest kiss of your life, making fire shoot down your back, making your legs feel unstable.

Someone from further down the car yelled ‘getta room!’ making you pull away and laugh.

“Once the annulment is made public, we can make our own arrangements,” he promised you. “And for the rest of our lives together, I will lay myself and everything I have at your feet.”

Your heart raced as he took your hand in his, placing a kiss on your knuckles.

“Loki, when I was down with Hawkeye and the others making my way up to you…I thought I heard your voice in my head for a moment,” you confessed.

He nodded. “Then it worked.”

“What worked?”

“You would have fallen into a death trap if I hadn’t isolated my voice and sent it out to you. I always had to physically separate my body from my projection before now.”

You looked down at the book he had in his hand. “I wonder where you got the inspiration for that?”

Loki smiled at you, not letting your hand go. “We made it, my love. Let’s have our forever start now. I don’t even know if I could wait another month. We’re finally together, so let’s not waste another day.”

Danielle, to her credit, made the annulment and the ensuring shitstorm of a paparazzi mess as easy for Loki as possible, claiming that she’d made a mistake by rushing in to things (which wasn’t a lie) and the separation was on her. She used her team of lawyers and publicity agents to make the entire process complete and smoothed over within the month, leaving the pair of you open and free to be a couple again.

Loki found a place outside of the city for you both, a small retreat, but far enough away from the others and the hustle and bustle of New York, and on the day he brought you there for the first time, he got down on one knee before you in the doorway.

And, Reader, you married him.

#MCU #MCU Loki #MCU Avengers #MCU Thor #Loki #Loki laufeyson #thor #avengers #loki fanfiction #MCU fanfiction #loki x reader #loki/reader #arranged marriage #forced marriage #hydra

[silvertsundere]

Silver Talks AniManga (24/12/23)

not as many finales as I made it sound last week cause 3 of them are just taking cour breaks, tho there's hoshikuzu and zom finales tomorrow, but that'll be on next week's post

blue - finale/completed

Anime

Frieren Ep16

great episode, like always, love when they really dig into death, memory and legacy and all that and that's all this episode was so I was content no ep next week but it'll come back in january with a whole ass arc, a good ol reliable exam arc, so that should be fun

Adult Precure Ep12 (Finale)

man I only have one word for this: disapponting I know it's my fault for getting my hopes up with toei but still

the story was pretty bare bones basically just "humans are destroying the world with climate change and we have to change our ways to stop that but can only do it if we work together which is hard" the animation was also the bare minimum, with them turning the girls back into their kid forms when transforming into precures as an excuse to reuse the old stock footage from the shows the music and voice performances were good but that certainly doesn't make up for the rest let's not even get me started on shipping stuff, like them giving saki and mai pointless boyfriends that may as well not even have existed in the story

still it wasn't terrible really, I've seen much worse, and it was cool seeing the girls grown up, it just lacked ambition at the end of the day next year we're getting a sequel to mahoutsukai precure (takarie, hocchan and hayamin main cast!!!!) and it's on a late night slot so I'll hope and pray they actually do something with it unlike otona

Imas Million Live Ep12 (Finale)

honestly just the fact that it's CG would knock it down to an 8 at the most, but.... at the end of the day my ratings are for enjoyment and I sure as hell Am Not Immune to Idols and it would be dishonest for me to give it anything else

it's a real shame it's CG, and that the SC anime will be too, especially after U149 had such beautiful art direction, it just made the inadequacy of CG stand out even more. Unfortunately this seems to be the norm going forward, with even Toei's upcoming girl band anime being revealed to be CG as well...

But anyway, the story was good as usual, following the same formula from the other imas anime of having one episode to introduce each girl and then big group episodes, ofc with the much larger cast ML has, instead they did episodes for units instead of individuals but it was still good I already said what I thought about the animation, tho I will say despite all my complaints the CG is actually great, but that doesn't change the fact that this shouldn't be the norm. if it was only during the concert scenes like love live then it'd be fine but not like this. At least it made me not dread the SC anime so much cause I saw it could be serviceable in this Finally, obviously the music and voice acting are top notch, it's imas after all it was just banger after banger and a cast full of talented queens

Manga

Jujutsu Kaisen Ch246

akutami making it really clear that higuruma is gonna die here with a billion flags but it certainly has been cool seeing him go off, really curious to see how the next chap is gonna go since this one ended with this incredible praise

#silver talks animanga