#i mean it was such a bad year that watching threads twice felt like an improvement to my life

[eggmeralda]

having a hyperfixation forever nostalgic of a certain time of year feels really weird when the hyperfixation was so unpleasant. like you'll have me every april/may from now on smelling the spring air like. ah........threads (1984)......

#2023 was a time i'm still not over my threads obsession #i mean it was such a bad year that watching threads twice felt like an improvement to my life #and then when i fancied bob. for some reason #what's that post about girls will be attracted to a white fence. like honestly #i still back that era though bob is a king i would die for him #it's like a tradition that every 3 aprils i will have a hyperfixation that isn't that weird but the experience is #2014. cheated on my clash obsession by being obsessed with the who and it took me like 4 months to accept my clash thing had faded #2017. read a south park fanfic that was so good i wanted to convert it text-to-speech and listen to it in the car #except i couldn't even drive yet so basically south park made me pass my driving test #2020. the secret history saved my life but then it ended quickly bc i started seeing that guy from work and then had an aromantic crisis #& didn't wanna think about anything recent so i descended back into 2017 and became obsessed with south park Again #and then 2023. when things were going so badly that threads became my comfort film and now i forever associate spring with nuclear war #can't wait for april 2026 like. absolutely unreal #ramble

[kentopedia]

nanami kento, who hates dating, and didn’t do much of it in his early twenties. but now, he’s almost thirty, watching all the people he works with settle down, have kids, and he thinks he wants that. so he might as well try.

so satoru sets him up on a few dates — friends of friends, he calls them. and at the end of every one of the dinners, kento goes home empty, exhausted, because he knows what they want is not the same.

still; he thinks maybe he’s being a little self-destructive, maybe too picky, maybe he just got so used to being alone. with satoru’s insistence, he gives all the women another call, invites them over to his apartment.

the first time was a disaster… kento had barely set the dinner on the table before his cat had hissed at her, scratched her down the arm in a thin gash. and though it did draw blood, it was hardly enough to warrant that reaction.

he didn’t even try to stop her as she picked up her bag and left, huffing like she’d been morally offend. kento, though, could only smile to himself in amusement.

because maybe kento was a poor judge of character, a man who was secretly hoping nothing would pan out — but his cat could certainly tell the good from the bad.

it became a little game to him, after that. seeing if anyone could win his pet over, and if they could, perhaps they were the one. his darling animal was a fickle thing anyway. a bit too defensive, quick to bite anything threatening after years on the streets.

naturally, no one came back twice.

he was close to giving up, accepting his solitude because he was tired of empty conversations over dinner. but then, he ventured out over the weekend to a new coffee shop, during hours he normally didn’t spend out of his home, and met you.

though you only talked for a moment, kento felt like maybe he’d known you in a past life. a part of him thought maybe it was strange, the way he kept coming back to talk to you, catching you at the end of your shift to see if you wanted to grab a coffee sometime.

by the second date, kento started to think you could turn out to be his best friend.

by the third date, kento wondered if soulmates were real.

on the fourth date, almost two months later, an appropriate time to get to know someone when you were as reserved as kento, he invited you over for dinner. it was, perhaps, the final confirmation he needed to let himself be with you.

he let you through the door, smiling softly as you told him about the book you were reading, and hung his coat on the rack. a moment later, you stopped, distracted, hands covering your mouth in a gasp.

“kento! she’s the cutest cat i’ve ever seen, you didn’t even show me pictures!” you exclaim, and, a few feet away, crouched down. “look at her pretty eyes…”

“careful,” kento said, “she’s not very—“

but the cat approached your outstretched hand, sniffed once, before letting you scratch her under her chin, purring loud enough for kento to hear across the room.

“shes such a sweetheart, you told me she was mean!” you smiled, making a cooing noise as you threaded your fingers through her fur. “kento’s a liar, isn’t he… you’re so precious.”

a few moments later, she snapped her jaw at you in a biting motion, and you only laughed, withdrawing your hand. “alright, i get it, i won’t bother you anymore.”

though she still brushed against your legs, just as she did kento’s, and seemed to communicate some sort of message to him.

“do you want any help cooking?” you ask, tucking your hair behind your ears. “i’m a disaster in the kitchen, but—“

“sure,” kento said, his chest tightening as he blinked back at you, only in his apartment for minutes and already looking as at home there. he wondered if it was possible to fall in love so quickly. “but only if you want to.”

#this is very silly #i just wanted to get it out of my drafts #i’ve had this thought for a while but #i decided i didn’t want to write a whole drabble so now you get this #kento being inexperienced at dating & not enjoying it is very special to me #and so is him having a cat tehe #selfship coded i suppose bc reader is me but it’s not that obvious i hope #beloved kento 💋 ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ #nanami x reader #xoxo rylie 💌 ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ #jjk x reader #nanami x you #nanami fluff #nanami x gender neutral reader

[lvrdrafts]

Rescued by Love Part 1

★ Summary: Your brother Steve always hated you after your mother's death and when he finally gets the family's empire he is ready to sell you off to some toxic marriage but will the knight and shining armor save you or make it worse?

★ Pairing: Bucky x f!Reader

★ Warnings: Arranged Marriage

★ Word Count: 2,000+

★ Genre: Angst/ Fluff

Masterlist

From the moment you took your first breath, you carried the weight of a past you didn't fully understand. It was a past overshadowed by the loss of your mother – a loss that your older brother, Steve, held against you.

As far back as you can remember, there was always a palpable tension in the air whenever you were around Steve. His eyes held a mixture of resentment and sorrow, a constant reminder of the day your mother's life slipped away while giving birth to you. A day that, in his eyes, marked the beginning of his own torment.

Your father, desperate to mend the frayed threads of your family, tried tirelessly to bridge the gap between you two. He believed that time and shared experiences could heal the wounds that festered beneath the surface. But no matter his efforts, Steve's heart remained encased in ice, his bitterness toward you seemingly unbreakable.

★

15 years later...

The air was alive with the beat of the music and the laughter among the people at the lively party. Steve and Bucky stood by the refreshments table, each holding a drink and engaged in a casual conversation

"So, have you talked to Sarah lately?" Bucky asked, leaning against the table. Steve shrugged, a hint of a smile on his lips. "Yeah, we caught up yesterday. She's doing okay, just busy with school and all."

Bucky chuckled, nudging Steve playfully. "You know, I think she's got a crush on you." Steve's cheeks flushed slightly, and he rolled his eyes. "Come on, Bucky. We've been friends forever. It's not like that."

As they continued chatting, you stood at a distance, watching them with a mix of envy and loneliness. You'd always felt like an outsider, never quite fitting in with the crowd.

Seeing Steve and Bucky laughing together only accentuated your isolation. Summoning up your courage, you decided to approach them. You took a deep breath and walked over, hoping to join the conversation and maybe finally feel like you belonged somewhere.

"Hey, guys," you greeted softly, a small smile on your face. Steve and Bucky turned their attention toward you, their expressions changing ever so slightly. Steve's smile faded, and his brows furrowed as if he was annoyed by your presence. Bucky knew how this would end and a part of him felt bad.

"What do you want?" Steve snapped, you'd heard that tone so many times. But still, you were taken aback by his sharpness, and you stumbled over your words.

"I just thought... I mean, I don't really know anyone here, no one really wants to talk to me... and I thought maybe I could join you guys."

Bucky shot Steve a sidelong glance, his eyes silently questioning the change in his friend's demeanor. Steve's lips twisted into a bitter smile.

"We're not in the mood for your company. Just go find someone else to annoy." Bucky shot Steve a look, clearly taken aback by his friend's harsh tone. "Steve, come on."

Ignoring Bucky's protest, you felt a lump forming in your throat. "Please I promise I won't bother you and-and I—"

Cutting you off, Steve's frustration boiled over. "Well, maybe you should've thought twice before showing up. People like you shouldn't be at parties like this."

Your heart plummeted, a mix of hurt and humiliation washing over you. Swallowing hard, you turned and hurriedly walked away, tears stinging your eyes. You found a quiet corner where you could be alone and tried to hide your face as you wiped away your tears.

As you huddled there, Bucky's voice reached your ears. "Was that really necessary, Steve?" Steve's response was cold and unapologetic.

"Yeah, it was. She's always been nothing but trouble, if it wasn't for her I would have still had my mother."

Bucky sighed, a mixture of disappointment and frustration in his voice. "You still didn't have to be so harsh. She's just a kid who wants some friends. You don't have to be an ass about it."

Steve shrugged, a stubborn set to his jaw. "She needs to know her place."

★

7 years later...

The corridors of the mansion stretched out before you, each step echoing the weight of my uncertainty. Ever since your father had succumbed to Alzheimer's and the grip of illness, Steve had ascended as the new head of your family's sprawling mafia empire.

It was a shift that had altered the dynamics of your life in ways you couldn't have imagined. With hesitant determination, you made my way toward Steve's office, a heaviness in my chest that seemed to grow with each passing moment.

Even if he didn't love you, you were still determined to try even if it would take a million years so like every day you brought him lunch even though you knew he was probably going to reject it.

As you approached the slightly afar door, fragments of conversation reached my ears, stealing my breath away. "...marrying her off to Jason Storm," Steve's voice cut through the air, a sentence that hit like a sledgehammer to your heart.

Jason Storm – a name that carried a reputation that curdled your stomach. A man who was known for his cruelty, a vicious cycle of abusing his wives. The realization struck you like a bolt of lightning – your life, your choices, was being manipulated for the sake of getting rid of you.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you stumbled away from the door, your world crumbling around you. The bitterness of the truth tasted like betrayal, a sharp reminder that in this world of shadows and secrets, your well-being mattered little in the grand scheme of things.

You found yourself outside, the cool air doing little to quell the turmoil within you. The weight of your emotions was suffocating, and the façade you had tried to maintain for so long was crumbling. Your sobs echoed through the empty corridor as you leaned against the wall, your heart aching for the love and compassion you had always hoped to find within your own family.

Amidst the darkness of my despair, a voice cut through the haze – a voice you recognized as James Barnes, a name that held a sense of familiarity and warmth. "You can't do this, Steve." Bucky's words were fierce, laden with conviction.

His presence was a surprise, a glimmer of hope in the darkness that had enveloped you. You wiped your tears away as you listened intently, your heart pounding in your chest. "Why not?" Steve's voice was tinged with a coldness that had become all too familiar. "Because it's wrong, Steve. You can't marry her off to a man like Jason Storm. You know what he does to his wives,"

Bucky's words were like a lifeline, a lifeline that you had never expected to find. Steve's retort was sharp, but Bucky's resolve didn't waver. "You want to marry her, then?" At that moment, you felt a spark of something deep within you, a flicker of hope that perhaps someone was willing to stand up for you, to see you as more than just a pawn in a dangerous game.

Bucky's voice held a determination that cut through the tension. "No, that's not what I meant." And then the words that would change everything hung in the air – words that carried a mix of motives that I couldn't fully comprehend.

"Actually, I will," Bucky declared. But in Bucky's heart, he didn't want to marry you, but marrying you would be a disguise for his parents to stop nagging him while he was off with whores.

As the weight of the conversation continued to hang heavy in the air, the office door swung open, revealing Steve and Bucky. You sat there, tears glistening in your eyes, vulnerable in your moment of despair. Steve's scowl deepened as his eyes met yours, and without a word, he turned and walked away, leaving you to wrestle with your emotions alone. Bucky; however, spared you a quick smile before quickly following Steve.

#bucky x reader #mafia bucky x reader fluff #mob bucky barnes #mob bucky au #mob bucky x reader #bucky x reader angst #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x reader angst #steve rodgers sister x bucky #steve rodgers reader x bucky #mob steve rodgers #mob steve rodgers x reader

[watchmegetobsessed]

SNACKS AND SEX

A/N: a little something, because i thought i would be done with the single dadrry fic by now... but im not so i just wrote this quickly bc i felt bad hahahah

WORD COUNT: 1.4k

WARNING: a bit of body issues

SUMMARY: You're three months pregnant, but the world doesn't know. Seeing some pictures of yourself online really get to you.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

Social media has been a weird hole in your life ever since you started dating Harry. You weren’t an obsessive user before, but you spent your fair share of time scrolling on Twitter and Instagram, checking out funny posts.

But then they were about you.

Five years into dating Harry, one year of that spent as husband and wife, you still can’t stop yourself from wandering online and hurting yourself by seeing something mean about a photo or a nasty gossip. You promised yourself a million times before that you wouldn’t even check what complete strangers have to say about you, but it’s hard to keep away from the internet.

It’s a random Thursday evening when you break your promise again and it brings you to tears. Harry is out to get your Sour Patch Kids, because that was your pregnancy craving of the day and you tried to ignore it, but then ended up asking Harry to run to the store and get them for you without a word or complain. He’s been your hero not just since you’ve found out you’re pregnant three months ago, but probably since you met him.

So while you’re waiting for him, you’re munching on some chips, scrolling on Twitter aimlessly.

And then you find a thread about yourself.

Two days ago you went for a walk around the neighborhood, the weather was nice, you felt like you needed to get out of the house so you and Harry walked to your favorite bakery, got some donuts and took a stroll. Paparazzi keep away from the neighborhood where you live, Harry has had a long but successful fight with them in the past so now they keep their distance, so you weren’t worried about getting papped. But you can’t have normal people away every time you’re out on the streets. He has fans everywhere and love taking pictures of him doing literally anything, whether it’s just crossing the street, being on a run or walking around with her pregnant wife eating donuts.

Well, people don’t know you’re pregnant and hopefully they won’t find out for months.

You kind of saw a few girls get worked up when they spotted the two of you, but you were hoping they would be respectful and not take pictures. You were wrong. And now you’re met with a series of photos of you, your face stuffed with donuts like you never ate any before. They caught you in a bad moment, for sure. You haven’t washed your hair in days, you were wearing baggy clothes because one, they hide your growing belly amazingly and two, those are what you feel the most comfortable in. Your body is going through some major changes, comfort is your number one priority these days.

But now you’re watching people tear you apart for looking so slobby and practically just the shadow of yourself compared to what you used to look like five years ago.

She definitely shouldn’t be eating donuts, lol.

Wow, she put on so much weight!

Harry is just getting hotter, while she is turning into… that.

She is twice the size like she was at the Grammy’s omg!

You just can’t stop reading the nasty messages, they seem to be endless, about your look, your clothes and mostly about the size of your body. You immediately stop eating the chips and toss the pack away as you keep scrolling.

Tears start dwelling in your eyes, feeling like all these comments are being thrown at you relentlessly. There’s no doubt you’ve gained weight, pregnancy has been crazy for you, you’ve been constantly hungry, always eating something because whenever you tried to keep yourself out of the kitchen, your body definitely started rioting against you until you gave it what you wanted. So you’ve been putting on extra weight these past months, but you didn’t think much of it until now.

“Fuck,” you mumble, tears rolling down your cheeks as you lock the phone and toss it to the side, staring ahead of you, the comments playing in your mind on repeat.

It gets you so worked up that you don’t even notice when Harry returns.

“Love? I got everything you’ve been craving!” he sings as he walks down the hallway, smiling to himself thinking about all the treats in his tote bag.

You jump at his voice and try to hide your state, but a moment later he walks in and sees you sitting at the dining table, crying.

“Hey, what happened?” he asks, dropping the bag and rushing over to you, kneeling in front of you. “What happened? Talk to me, baby!”

“Nothing,” you breathe out shakily, but even the blind could see that you’re crying. “But… I don’t want the snacks anymore.”

“What? You’ve been craving them all day, I got all your favorites!”

“I don’t…” you shake your head and even though you’re fighting hard to stop crying, it just gets worse.

“Y/N, don’t tell me nothing happened, something clearly upset you! Please, I want to help!” he begs, feeling helpless seeing you like this.

Instead of answering, you just grab your phone, unlock it and hand it over to him and wait as he reads over some of the mean tweets.

“Baby…” he exhales, putting the phone to the side as he pulls out the chair next to yours and sits beside you, his hands never letting go of yours in your lap. “These idiots don’t matter, they have no idea that you’re pregnant!”

“I’m pregnant, yeah, but I also gained a lot of weight and I’m only entering the second trimester! I look horrible!”

“No, you don’t, you look amazing!”

“Don’t bullshit me, I look like shit on those pictures and I have a feeling I look the same now as well!” you snap at him. Your hormones have been all over the place so you’ve been overreacting a lot lately, but you just can’t help it.

“But that’s not what I see. I see my beautiful wife enjoying some great donuts she deserved because she is growing our baby in her belly. Did you put on some weight? Yes, but that’s nothing to be ashamed of. I loved you before pregnancy, I love you now and I will love you forever.”

“How do you not think I look hideous?” you moan, still not convinced.

“Because I’m in love with you and all I care about is that you’re nourished, loved and cared for so you can care for our baby in there,” he says, placing a hand to your growing belly. “People will always have something to say about us, that doesn’t mean it’s true. I was there with you on our walk, I saw you eat those donuts and wanna know what I thought?”

“What?” you ask in a whisper.

“I was so happy that I saw you eat them with those pleased hums, I loved knowing that you have what you want and need. That’s all that mattered to me.”

Harry can tell you’re still not entirely on the same page as him and he is determined to get your mind to the right place.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Y/N. And you’re going through some extreme changes so we can grow our family. Be nice to your body, because it’s gifting us with a baby. I promise you that even on your worst day, when you feel like you don’t want anyone to look at you, I would still think the same thing about you.”

“Are you sure?” you ask as he wipes your tears off of your cheeks.

“I can’t be more sure, I promise. Now why don’t we get comfortable on the couch, I’ll rub your feet and we can eat the snacks I got and then maybe have sex too,” he adds cheekily and it finally makes you laugh.

“Harry!”

“What?” he grins. “I told you, you’re beautiful. Of course I want to have sex with my amazing wife!”

“You don’t mind the weight I’ve put on?”

“No,” he answers confidently. “I love all of you, I love this wonderful body of yours that’s cooking my baby in there,” he smirks and leaning down he kisses your stomach, making you laugh. Then he wraps you in his arms and pulls you into his embrace. “We good?” he hums.

“Yeah,” you nod, holding onto him tight.

“So, snacks?”

“Yes.”

“And sex?” he adds, his hands wondering down to your butt, giving it a nice squeeze.

“Mm… Maybe. After snacks,” you say, making him laugh this time.

“Deal!”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Michael in the Mainstream: Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3

As most people know by now, I am a huge fan of superhero movies and have been since I was a kid. I grew up with Batman, Spider-Man, the X-Men, and even Ghost Rider, and I loved the transition into the MCU and the huge leap in care and respect towards the source material.

Still, I don’t think it was really until 2014 that I really came to love the genre like I do now. I sat down in a theater for a little movie called Guardians of the Galaxy, not knowing what to expect since this was a pretty obscure superhero team comprised of characters I’d never heard of, directed by a guy whose work I wasn’t familiar with at the time (aside from Scooby-Doo, of course). The opening scene, in which Peter “Star-Lord” Quill watches his mother die before being abducted by aliens had me intrigued. But when the next scene began and Chris Pratt began dancing through the ruins of an alien world to the sound of Redbone’s “Come and Get Your Love,” I knew I was watching something special, something extraordinary. I left the theater that day with a new all-time favorite film.

Fast forward nine years. The superhero movie landscape has changed a lot in that time, but there are only two things really relevant to the topic at hand. The first is that people have grown incredibly tired of Marvel’s brand of humor and witty banter, something that really defined the first two Guardians movies. It doesn’t help that so many superhero films, even outside of Marvel, tried to crib their style without understanding why people liked it there (looking at you, Suicide Squad). People don’t mind some humor to lighten things up, but they also want dramatic moments and genuine emotion to let them connect to the characters.

The second is that the MCU wrapped up its decade-long overarching plot and gave a few characters the satisfying conclusions they deserved while leaving some threads dangling for the future. It was a truly massive event that felt like the end of an era… and it was immediately followed by Disney churning out dozens of movies and shows in only a couple of years, inundating the market and pushing out products that feel incredibly half-baked and underwritten. Even the ones I’d call great like Wakanda Forever or No Way Home suffer from the sort of wonkiness that the home runs of Phase 3 didn’t have, while the ones I didn’t like exacerbated all the problems people have with Marvel. Now I don’t believe in “superhero fatigue,” because people still want superheroes. What they don’t want is bad movies, and too many of the films lately are falling short of audience expectations.

And that brings us to Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3. Despite James Gunn having hit it out of the park with Marvel twice before and hopping over to DC to redeem their cinematic universe with two of their best entries, the aforementioned points weighed heavily on everyone’s minds. That’s not even getting into the film’s tumultuous development, with Gunn being fired and then rehired, which only further had people worried about the gang of intergalactic goofballs. Even from a man so known for quality superhero cinema that DC put him in charge of their own cinematic universe, the odds seemed stacked against this film delivering.

But in spite of all that, even with all these things against the film, Gunn managed to pull off one of the rarest feats imaginable: He went three for three and delivered an amazing finale to a perfect trilogy.

Now, when I say “perfect” I don’t mean the films are without flaw, because a movie without flaw does not exist. What I mean is that the trilogy consistently builds on core themes while maintaining its identity throughout, as well as maintaining a high level of quality throughout. Think of the original three Star Wars films or The Lord of the Rings to see what I mean. The key is to start strong, keep building through the middle, and then conclude on a strong note that wraps everything up nicely. In short: Be a story with a beginning, middle, and end. Vol. 3 manages to pull off being that satisfying endpoint that no other superhero third movie has been able to so far.

The big way the film does that is by recontextualizing the series in a big way: It establishes that, rather than Peter Quill, the trilogy’s true protagonist has been Rocket. It makes sense when you look back on the movies and see how he has had the most development (which is even more pronounced when you remember he and Nebula were the only Guardians to survive the Snap), and this film is no exception other than taking this to the logical conclusion by making him the focus character and the one who drives the plot. It’s frankly amazing how a character who spends two acts in a coma dreaming of his heartbreaking backstory still manages to feel relevant even when he’s not actively participating in the plot, and when he is Bradley Cooper makes a case for being one of the single greatest actors in the MCU.

That’s not to say the other characters are bad, though! Every single one of the Guardians’ actors brings their A-game here, especially the ones for whom this is definitively their last rodeo (Dave Bautista and Zoe Saldana). Bautista is finally given his due, getting to play Drax as more than just dumb muscle, while Saldana gets to play a more brutal and vicious Gamora than we’ve seen before. Outside of them, the very best performance is probably from Karen Gillan as Nebula who, while still as crabby as ever, genuinely feels like a part of the family for the first time and gets to play the straight man to a lot of antics.

I think it’s also worth pointing out how good Chris Pratt is here, especially after Quill was something of a joke in the Avengers films. Here, Quill is back to his proper characterization and gets a great character arc that plays to Pratt’s strengths, unlike many of his modern roles. I know there’s been a bit of a Pratt fatigue lately, but he’s in his element under Gunn and delivers one of his strongest performances yet. And with all that said, no matter how minor (Cosmo) or out of focus (Groot) a Guardian is compared to the core cast, they all get their time to shine in the third act with a finale that makes use of all their skills in unique and creative ways. No one really feels underutilized here, even if they don’t get as much spotlight as others.

I think one of the more divisive new additions is going to be Will Poulter’s Adam Warlock, though I think most of that will hinge on how familiar you are with his established character in the comics. As I’m not super familiar with Warlock, but do love Poulter even in films I hate like Midsommar, I thoroughly enjoyed him here. He feels like Age of Ultron Vision done right, a powerful being only recently born but forced into dramatic conflict. He is a bit underplayed unfortunately, but you know we’ll be seeing more of him soon enough, and at the very least he gets a handful of really funny moments and some cool scenes to build him up. They could have done more with him, but I certainly loved him.

This movie certainly ends up being one of the darkest films in the entire MCU, and nearly all that darkness is the result of the film’s villain, the High Evolutionary, who is quite possibly the most evil villains in comic book movie history, if not necessarily the very best (though I certainly think he’s up there). His entire character revolves around his insane god complex, and to satisfy it he abuses animals, cruelly experiments on living beings, and commits genocide with an unnerving casualness. On top of that, he’s just incredibly petty, never missing an opportunity to either figuratively or literally kick the dog. Chukwudi Iwuji is clearly relishing every moment he has playing a guy who can switch from classy visionary villain to frothing lunatic at the drop of a hat. If nothing else, it’s just so refreshing to see a villain without a tragic backstory or sympathetic motivations and who is just an asshole, plain and simple. This might not work for everyone because it does leave him as a rather simple character, but sometimes it’s just nice to see a villain who’s just a massive cunt that you want to watch die with every fiber of your being. He’s pretty easily the best villain of the entire trilogy, and considering how good Ego was and how fantastic Kurt Russell is as an actor, that’s really saying something.

You will not be surprised to hear that the soundtrack is good, because Gunn has not missed once when it comes to these soundtracks. It’s not quite as good as Vol. 2’s soundtrack—how could it be when there’s no Fleetwood Mac?—but the variety of decades the Zune brings beyond the 70s and 80s tunes of the first couple of movies really help set the scenes. It’s never bad to hear Faith No More’s “We Care a Lot,” and the movie has the best use of the Beastie Boys in a movie starring Chris Pratt that you’ll see this year.

What is surprising, though, is that the CGI isn’t dogshit. We’re not talking Avatar levels of quality, but it’s still a damn pretty movie, and this is supported by some fantastic practical effects and costumes. The only real complaints I’ve got are that the humor doesn’t always land and there are some rather weird editing choices, but aside from that you can tell everyone working on this was given the time to make sure this was the sendoff these heroes deserve.

And I think that’s the movie’s ultimate strength: It’s a true sendoff, and not just setup for the future. The characters conclude their arcs, and unlike with Endgame all of the endings our heroes get feel fitting, satisfying, and well-earned. We may see some of these characters again someday, but for certain members of the Guardians you can tell they’ve finally ended up where they need to be. And this is a good thing! All stories need an ending, and as far as endings go this is one of the best.

At the very end of the film, the audience gets to experience something the other characters have throughout these films: We get to clearly and without translation understand what Groot is saying, symbolizing how we as an audience have become as close to him as his friends have. In essence, we are all Guardians of the Galaxy now. Our journey, too, has come to its logical conclusion; we’ve seen these characters we’ve followed for so long complete their arcs and end up where they need to be. Isn’t it nice to reach a conclusion, however bittersweet it is?

This is one of the best superhero movies out there, and easily one of the top 5 MCU films. If you like superhero movies and are tired of the same old slop being shoveled out, you need to go see this movie, because it shows a bright future where creative control goes to the filmmakers so they can make films with heart and soul. The future of DC is definitely in good hands, that’s for sure. And if this is ultimately where you get off the superhero rollercoaster, I can’t blame you when this is the best stopping point we’re likely to get. For me, my days of obsessively making sure I see every Marvel project are over; I’ll stick to checking out what interests me, ignoring what doesn’t, and being at peace knowing my favorite heroes got a satisfying conclusion.

#Michael in the Mainstream #review #movie review #Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 #James Gunn #Marvel #MCU #Chris Pratt #Zoe Saldana #Bradley Cooper #Vin Diesel #Karen Gillan #pom klementieff #Dave Bautista #Chukwudi Iwuji #Will Poulter #comic book movie #guardians of the galaxy #gotg #Star-Lord #Gamora #Rocket Raccoon #Groot #Drax #Mantis #High Evolutionary #Nebula #sci-fi #superhero movie

[k-dokja]

FIRST LOVE, LATE SPRING | CHAPTER 0/?

For once, he appreciated that she didn't mention it. Not at the immediate moment when it happened anyway. He knew she was bound to mention it at some point. With his completely obvious and out of character behaviour, it was simply a matter of when.

And that happened when the two of them were the ones left to keep watch.

"She won't vanish if you take your eyes off her, you know," Han Sooyoung pointed out, unimpressed by his spacing out.

To be fair, he didn't like how he was acting either. There were more important matters to worry about than a face from his past. A non-threatening face for once, but from his past nonetheless. And maybe it was the one you carried with you that conflicted him more than anything.

It'd have been better if you were someone he harboured hatred for. Easier to write you off then. Wouldn't have to think twice about you afterwards. Yet, he seldom got it easy with life. Maybe your appearance would complicate it further.

Maybe it won't.

"Hey—"

"Do you remember your first love?"

Whatever impatience showed on Han Sooyoung's face vanished in place for her befuddlement. He could understand. He didn't know why he asked it himself. Your appearance had inspired a certain mood that muddled the clarity of his mind.

Han Sooyoung frowned distinctively, conflict drawn over her face. "Uh."

"So?" He pressed, unrelenting.

"Fictional." Her answer came. Clipped and straightforward, yet, her embarrassment was shown on her face.

He almost snorted. That was him, too. Once upon a time when he was in 8th grade and he was in love with Lee Jihye. However, the Kim Dokja of a few years later would sing another tune completely.

"I mean the real one," he clarified unhelpfully, egging her to go on.

Unfortunately for him, Han Sooyoung didn't really feel cooperative that day. "Why does it matter? You asked because this had something to do with her. Just go on ahead and say it."

"She was my first and last love," he threaded his fingers together, hoping it would keep his emotions in check.

It didn't. But the Fourth Wall helped. "She was a freshman when I was a senior. We were friends, once."

"Were?" Han Sooyoung once again frowned. "Aren't you on friendly terms? Is this a roundabout way to say you graduated from being a friend and becoming a boy—"

"Wish I have your optimism." He deadpanned. "But no, fairytales don't happen in real life. We aren't living in your stories."

"Will you stop dissing my writing?!"

Ignoring her disgruntlement, he continued on. "Do you remember the werewolf from earlier?"

His eyes fixated on your sleeping form. You looked peaceful somehow, he hoped that it was because of his presence. Yet, it felt foolish to believe him being there would help with the quality of your slumber in any way.

Still, he'd like to think all he had brought to you wasn't entirely bad things.

"What? Were you in a love triangle or something?"

"Yes."

"Wait, what? Seriously?" Han Sooyoung almost cackled out loud and disturbed those asleep.

He sighed out loud, bone-weary despite having been awake for only a few hours. "It wasn't even a love triangle, could've been a hexagon or an octagon for all I know."

"Well, then what happened?" She urged. "Seeing how the two of you are around each other, didn't you win? Did the two of you fallout somehow?"

He wanted to sigh again. "Nothing happened," he explained, "we simply stopped being children, that's all."

"Nothing happened?" Han Sooyoung echoed his words with the incredulity of someone who wanted him to hear how ridiculous they were. "You're a bad liar, you know that?"

"I know."

He was a bad liar. He knew that. The best he could do was bluff with the information he already had. Back then, he didn't know anything about the world. Everything he knew was the extension of basic knowledge and what Way of Survival taught him.

Yet, it was enough to convince you.

Once upon a time.

#kim dokja #kim dokja x reader #orv x reader #omniscient reader's viewpoint #fics

[iridescentis]

REASONS WHY MAYA HART WAS A LESBIAN AND RILAYA SHOULD'VE BEEN ENDGAME

It is currently 1am and I have Rilaya brain rot and so even though the Girl Meets World fandom is hanging on by a thread and I haven’t posted in a year here we go. 

Both the Josh and Lucas 'crushes' are the most typical sign of comphet; Josh is too old for Maya and Lucas was pre-established as having a thing with Riley, meaning both unattainable.

Following on from this, Maya goes through an entire arc trying to determine how she likes Lucas and is incredibly stiff when trying to make it work. Also her 'crush' on Josh is unusually enthusiastic and she only decides she likes him when she figures out she doesn't like Lucas LITERALLY FORCING HERSELF TO LIKE ONE OF THE TWO BECAUSE SHE THINKS SHE HAS TO.

The ski lodge episode was poorly written - the whole 'she wanted to protect Riley so she felt what she felt' made no sense whatsoever, and completely erased her own character growth. The only reason the writers implemented that episode was to get both a resolution to the triangle and a throwback to Boy Meets World done in the same episode. The fact that Riley stayed up talking with Lauren's son and it resulted in nothing showed that it was just for reference purposes.

Josh completely took advantage of Maya and willingly admitted to LIKING A FIFTEEN YEAR OLD FRESHMAN GIRL AS AN EIGHTEEN YEAR OLD MAN IN COLLEGE.

Throughout the entire triangle plotline, Maya was confused. She never even SAID she had definite feelings for Lucas, Riley assumed she did and it went from there. It was the most clear sign that she was doing what she thought she was meant to - Riley was going out and liking boys like everyone else and Maya only ever 'liked' boys she couldn't have. 

"I don't know what I like anymore" The usage of 'what' and not 'if I like him'; she was definitely questioning her sexuality here why else would she be that vague. (+Riley saying "Woah" thought I'd point that out)

Maya 100% has feelings for Riley. It's not even a question. 

Unrelated but Maya and Riley are much more like Jack and Eric than Cory and Shawn, especially Riley - she is not as much of Cory and Topanga as the show forces, she is pure Eric Matthews. 

Upon seeing Riley get a crush on the new guy, Maya IMMEDIATELY resorted to making fun of him and being abundantly clear that she doesn't think of him as a threat ("[be scared] of ranger rick? sure honey you be as scared as you want") 

THE CAMPFIRE SCENE

"I just want it to stop it's bad enough I've been keeping this from her all this time"

ARE YOU KIDDING ME

That sentence is the most Denial™ line I have ever heard since "he's just my roommate"

We were robbed of a Rilaya country dancing scene

THE WAY THEY HOLD EACH OTHERS FACES

Riley is consistently uncomfortable around Lucas: It may have just been Disney's censored writing style but the fact that the two dated twice, and yet their 'romantic' advances were the most awkward things to watch. The lip peck on the train was the closest they got to being comfortable around each other, all the other hand holding and stuff was stiff and forced. Kind of a stretch because that's up to the actors, director and Disney but still, the relationship was unbelievably forced.

HOW I WOULD'VE WRITTEN A RILAYA PLOTLINE (this is in the case that GMW got more seasons)

A social studies teacher introduced, teaching a lesson on LGBTQ+ identities; this would lead to Maya doing her own research and becoming comfortable in her identity. (done in a way that avoids stereotypical coming out plotlines written by cishet people)

The whole group but more specifically Rilaya should've heard the story of Eric, Jack and Rachel. (In this plotline Jeric becomes canon and gets married because its my ideal and I make the decisions)

Maya has a long pining arc because she deserves real character development that didn't resolve itself in the span of 10 episodes.

Its already way to established that Riley works slowly and very much isn't the weekly relationships type but Maya should be. Especially during her pining arc because that is a perfect level of angst and portrays unhealthy coping mechanisms perfectly. 

RILEY TAKES A LONG TIME TO REALISE SHE LIKES GIRLS. Riley very clearly grew up privileged and blissfully ignorant, so its not going to be an immediate thing. Maya's understanding should be more fast paced than Riley's to maintain their contrast because its such an integral part of their relationship.

They get together during college. Their dorm/apartment has a bay window. They kiss in it. No important reason. It would just be very cute. 

Eric is the first person to realise there's something going on between Rilaya. I need more idiot genius in my life. 

THE FRIENDSHIP RINGS BECOME PROMISE RINGS. Not engagement rings because that's a stretch but a cute awkward scene where they have to figure out what to do with the rings now that they're dating would be perfect.

And that is all. Thank you. 

#girl meets world #gmw #riley matthews #maya hart #rilaya #boy meets world #eric matthews #jack hunter #jeric #lucas friar

[emerald-chaos]

Daydream

**gif not mine! credit to the owner**

So, I couldn't help myself. This is a continuation of my previous Bucky fic Insomnia because I just really enjoyed the dynamic between Bucky and the reader. I had a lot of fun writing this part and I love building things up between the two of them. If you guys like this or are interested in seeing more - please let me know! I love talking with people and hearing their ideas and such.

Much love xo.

Pairing: Reader x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 2079

Warnings: cursing, struggles with mental illness, mentions of sex (nothing entirely explicit but better safe than sorry), alcohol use, and really poorly written jokes lmao

Fingers threaded into hair.

Hot, opened-mouth kisses marking every surface of your neck.

Nails trailing down his back leaving raised, red lines in their wake.

“Oh my god,” you groaned as you let your head fall back and continued to rock your hips into the man in front of you.

Strong hands tighten their hold on your hips, sure to leave purplish-blue bruises for the morning.

“C’mon, baby,” he grunted, face buried in your neck as he helped your body to grind against his, “I got you. Let go, fuck, let go for me.”

A pair of slender fingers snapped in front of your line of sight, tearing you from your daydream and bringing you harshly back to reality.

“Hmm, what was that?” You blinked a few times before you turned your attention to the redhead who you, apparently, had been having a conversation with.

“Are you serious?” She laughed, “I’ve been talking for the past 10 minutes! I looked over and you had that far off, glossy look in your eyes. Not to mention you’re bleeding.”

A hand found its way to your lower lip and you realized she was right. You had been so lost in wet dreamland that you chewed a layer of skin off of your lip. You hoped she didn’t notice the heat rising in your face as you cleared your throat, grabbing a tissue from the coffee table.

“Sorry,” you muttered, pressing the tissue against your injured lip, “guess I got lost in thought.”

“Is it one of those flashbacks again?” She asked kindly, facial expression softening.

You nodded quickly, knowing fully well that the statement was a lie. Your gaze drifted over the woman’s shoulder to the subject of your previous thoughts. It would be easier to explain the common occurrence of your PTSD than it would be to explain that you were reminiscing on the hot, steamy, passionate sex you had the night before.

Bucky was situated across the room, leaning against the counter as he talked to Rogers and Wilson. The unfortunately tight, black, short-sleeve t-shirt he was wearing left nothing to the imagination. It accentuated every muscle of the body you had gotten to know so intimately not more than 10 hours ago. His muscular arms were crossed at his chest and he was sporting his signature scowl. Everything about the sight sent a shiver down your spine. You finally had a taste and you wanted more.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Your friend’s voice gained your attention once more.

A small smile found its way to your lips as you met her gaze again. Apart from Bucky, Nat had always been a good trauma buddy of yours. From the beginning she had been someone you felt like you could confide in and someone who would understand your troubles. Sometimes you wondered if a requirement of joining the avengers was to have a fucked up, tragic backstory.

“I’m okay, Nat.” You reassured, “Just got lost in my head again.”

“Whatever you say. Maybe the party tonight will help you get your mind off of things,” She mused as she pushed herself from the couch to stand up. She paused briefly before she turned to you again, “you are coming, right?”

“Yeah,” you snorted, “Tony actually threatened me if I didn’t go this time, so, I guess I have to.”

After the last party you skipped out on, Tony cornered you in the hallway and gave you quite the interrogation. Then he went on a spiel about how staying in your room all day and all night was bad for you and that if he didn’t know better he would think you weren’t appreciative of what he’d done for you and blah, blah, blah. Tony really was a good person underneath all that hair gel. All he wanted was to help you break out of your shell and give you the family he knew you were lacking. That didn’t mean he couldn’t be a pushy asshole.

“Good, I’ll see you there. I’m sure Barnes will too.” A devilish grin painted her lips as she watched your jaw drop. Before you had a chance to say anything she was off down the hallway.

Fuckin’ Natasha.

*******

A pile of clothes littered your bed as you slipped another dress over your form. Not once in your life had you ever been concerned about what you were wearing or what you looked like, but there was something about tonight that made you want to turn heads. Your eyes raked down your figure as you twisted from side to side, admiring the way the black dress hugged your body in all the right places. Not to mention the thigh high slit in the dress showed off probably the only body part you weren’t self-conscious about. Tony, being the theatrical and over the top man he was, once said that you shouldn’t show up to his parties if you weren’t dressed to court a royal or to bring a man to his knees. Guess you were shooting for the latter.

As you put the finishing touches on your look for the evening, you felt that familiar heavy feeling settling into your chest. Your body always had a tendency to go into fight or flight mode when you became too familiar with anything or anyone. It felt like every fiber in your body was screaming for you to retreat into sweats and stay in your room, to not allow yourself this opportunity to enjoy the people you’d grown so close to. You know what happens when you let people in.

Grief, trauma, coping - it made it really difficult to live a “normal” life. Everyday tasks are daunting, it can be next to impossible to have intimate friendships or relationships, and not to mention the intrusive thoughts that infect your mind on a daily, if not hourly, basis. Here you were, the happiest you’d been in years. You were finally in a place where you felt loved, comfortable, safe - and yet your mind was trying to self-sabotage again.

You took a moment to close your eyes and take several deep breaths. When you opened your eyes you locked eyes with your reflection in the mirror and made a pact with the girl staring back at you. The intrusive thoughts and self-doubt couldn’t continue to have a hold over you anymore. You gave yourself a small smirk and nod as you made the decision to throw caution to the wind and give the party a try. What’s the worst that could happen?

*******

Come to find out, the worst that could happen would be your competitive nature overcoming the rational, thinking part of your brain; which in turn would lead you to enter in a drinking contest. Thankfully a small portion of your pink, smooth brain was still functional enough to tell you when you’d reached your limit. Now you sat comfortably on the couch, legs tucked underneath you as you joyfully watched your friends argue.

“Dr. Banner, my friend, you are one of the most intelligent people I know. However, you are wrong.” Thor stated simply as he finished the rest of his drink.

“Thor, for the last time, water is not wet!” Bruce retorted, throwing his hands up in frustration.

You let out a loud snort before thinking, “Oh yeah, water. I should drink some water.”

Your feet planted themselves on the floor and slipped back into your pair of shoes. As you made your way to the kitchen you were pleasantly surprised by your balance and coordination, considering how much alcohol you’d consumed. Seems that drinking with Thor has done wonders for your tolerance.

While you were busy searching the refrigerator for a bottle of water, you were also oblivious to the soft sound of footsteps coming into the kitchen. After retrieving the beverage, you closed the door and turned to leave. Instead, you turned right into the chest of a figure that was definitely not there a moment ago. You yelped as you clutched a hand over your chest dramatically, your face filled with horror as though you’d just come face to face with the grim reaper.

“Jesus Christ, Barnes!” you scolded.

Bucky was holding his abdomen as he leaned back, consumed with laughter at your reaction. You huffed and wanted to be offended, but he looked so damn cute laughing that you couldn’t help but join him. You pushed his chest playfully and grumped as you hopped up to sit on the counter, opening the water to gulp about half of it down. Bucky couldn’t help but grin at your pouty state as he finished up his laughing fit.

“My apologies, sweets. Didn’t realize I’d be makin’ ya scream twice in one day.” He teased, grinning even wider as he did so.

Your jaw dropped at the comment, quickly looking around to make sure no one else was in the kitchen to hear what he had said. After seeing that the coast was clear you kicked your foot at him out of annoyance, only for his metal hand to catch it smoothly. The two of you locked eyes, motionless for a moment before he moved closer, sliding his hand from your ankle to your thigh. In the moment, you damned yourself for choosing this particular dress. The closer he got, the faster your breathing became. The contrast between his cold embrace and your flushed, warm skin sent a shiver down your spine. Abandoning the water bottle, you ran your hands up his abdomen and chest until they rested on his shoulders. Following a small nudge from his knee, you parted your legs to allow him space to stand between them. The heat in your face at an all time high as he pressed his flesh hand to your cheek.

“Haven’t been able to stop thinkin’ about you.” Bucky whispered as he stroked the apple of your cheek with his thumb. Each word that left his lips had you feeling way more intoxicated than any liquor you’d had all night.

As quickly as it started, his touch was gone and his back was turned as he opened the fridge. Before you had a chance to open your mouth to ask what the hell just happened, Tony was entering into the kitchen.

“Well, well, well. Surprised to see you here, Annie.” Tony beamed as he laid eyes on you.

Yes, Tony had nicknamed you after little orphan Annie. Yes, he also referred to himself lovingly as Daddy Warbucks. Yes, any person in their right mind would probably be offended, but you were just fucked up enough that you found it kind of hilarious.

“Wish I could say that it’s a pleasure, Tony.” You grumped back, upset that you’d been cockblocked and by Tony no less.

“Never lose that spunk, kid.” Tony winked as he turned to see Bucky retreating from the fridge with a beer in hand. “Inspector Gadget! Good to see you too.”

As much as you didn’t want to encourage him, you couldn’t help but laugh. Much to your dismay, Bucky simply raised his bottle to Tony as if to say “cheers” and padded out of the kitchen.

“He has such a way with words.” Tony teased as you rolled your eyes.

A sigh left your lips as you slipped off the counter and back onto the floor, muttering a “goodnight” before leaving the kitchen and heading back to your room. Although you wanted nothing more than to find Bucky and finish what he had started in the kitchen, you came to the conclusion that you were probably too drunk and definitely too tired.

Back in the comfort of your bedroom, you went about your normal nighttime routine. As you exited the bathroom, you couldn’t help but notice a piece of paper that had been slipped beneath your door. Grabbing the paper from the floor and plopping back onto your soft mattress, you opened it to read the note that was scribbled in black ink.

Never got the chance to tell you how gorgeous you looked tonight. Gotta say, I’m a big fan of that dress.

Sweet dreams.

- B.

When you finished the note, it felt as though you were floating on cloud 9. Even when you laid your head down and tried to welcome sleep, Bucky’s words were still replaying in your head over and over again - like they were lyrics to your new favorite song.

Turns out you were down for Bucky Barnes, and you were down bad.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan #sebastian stan character #marvel fanfiction #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #the winter soldier #white wolf #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan imagine

[farfromharry]

Mini Valentine | Stepdad!Tom fic

Summary: Your valentine’s plans with your fiancé get slightly set back when you get called in to work, leaving Tom to spend the day with your daughter.

Word count - 4,017

Warnings - One brief mention of throwing up, i think that’s it?

Unfortunately for you and Tom, you’d been called into work on the morning of the 14th, based on ‘emergency’. It was all very last minute and caused a lot of stress for your fiancé, even if he tried to promise you that it wasn’t a big deal and he could sort something, but anyone would be stressed while finding out their plans for the day had been spontaneously ruined that same morning without warning.

You originally had plans to go on a family trip to the zoo during the day, wanting to show Scarlett all the adorable animals that she’s never had the pleasure of seeing in person. Then you were meant to be heading to a romantic dinner with Tom at the same fancy restaurant he took you to, to propose. All while his mum watched Scarlett for you so you both got some well deserved time together.

“I’ll just shift the reservation, it’s okay,” he promised you, kissing your shoulder as you tied back your hair to keep it out of your face.

“You’re an angel,” you whispered, making sure to press a lasting kiss to his lips. You could tell he was exhausted, and you didn’t blame him, it was barely even four in the morning and you were already up and ready to leave the house.

You couldn’t leave without making a hundred percent sure he was okay with you heading in, moving over to where he’d tucked himself under the covers again, trying to shield his bare upper half from the cold morning air.

He’d planned on getting some more sleep before your munchkin woke up and decided she needed her stepdad to feed her instantly, something she did often.

“I still feel bad, ‘m sorry.” He shook his head, cupping your cheek with his large hand.

“You have nothing to worry about,” he chuckled, finding some amusement in the idea of you feeling so guilty about something you couldn’t control, especially when the issue was so easily resolved.

You rested your head on his bare chest for a few seconds, just until you really had to leave so you wouldn’t be late.

“I’ll take Scarlett out somewhere, still got to win her over.” You rolled your eyes at his words, pecking his lips one more time before standing up.

“You know she loves you already,” you mumbled, referring to all the moments the two had shared over the few years you and Tom had been together.

“No, she loves my cooking.”

You scrunched up your nose, feigning disgust. “I don’t know why.” Tom scoffed, his heart fluttering when you let out that silly giggle that he adored.

“Y/N?” he called. You hummed. “Happy valentine’s day.”

You placed one more kiss on his lips, taking your time to study his face as you pulled away. “Happy valentine’s day Tom.” You waved goodbye without letting him say anything else, not wanting anymore distractions that could risk making you late, closing your bedroom door behind you.

“Mummy?” You turned your head at the sound of your angel’s sleepy voice, seeing her standing in her bedroom door. She looked like the cutest little thing, hair all messed up from the way she’d slept, in her Disney pyjamas, rubbing her tired eyes with her first while her teddy bear was squeezed as close as possible to her chest.

“What’s wrong bub? You should be asleep.” She waddled over to you, wrapping her arms tightly around your legs. Your fingers threaded in her hair, trying to tame the flyaway strands, tucking them back into her scrunchie loosely.

“I heard you awake,” she mumbled, almost falling asleep in the position she was in. You pouted, leaning down to kiss her head.

“Mummy has to go to work,” you said, seeing the frown forming on her face. “I’ll be back later, but that means we can’t go to the zoo.”

If she had the energy she probably would’ve thrown a tantrum right then and there, but taking into account the utter exhaustion consuming her tiny body, meant she didn’t have the effort to argue. All she could do was flash you her typical pout and puppy dog eyes, but even those weren’t enough to win you over this time.

“Why don’t you go get in with Tom for a bit, get some cuddles?” You were always trying to encourage her to do more with Tom, praying that she would get along with him well enough to accept him. She did at least like his cooking, so that was a start.

She hummed, placing a sloppy toddler kiss on your cheek before shuffling down the hall to your room. You chuckled to yourself, grabbing your keys, jacket and any other necessity, leaving your daughter and fiancé to spend the day together.

Tom couldn’t fall asleep until he knew you were on your way, his subconscious telling him that he couldn’t let you be late by getting distracted with something in the house.

That meant that Tom felt the tiny body that was crawling onto the large bed, climbing under the covers on your empty side.

“Hi,” she whispered, laying her head on your pillow. The man laughed silently, noting how much she was like you with her mannerisms. He asked if she was okay, checking she wasn’t in here because of a nightmare.

“Mummy said I could come get cuddles.” The girl often liked Tom more when she didn’t have the energy to be mean, so at times like this she was often very affectionate towards him.

“Of course, c’mere.” She shuffled closer to him, curling her body into his chest while her head rested on his shoulder. Tom pressed a light kiss to her temple, soothingly rubbing her back until her breathing evened out and he was sure she was asleep.

He wasn’t too far behind her, letting his own wave of exhaustion crash over him until he was back into the deep slumber he’d been in before it was interrupted by your phone ringing.

»»——⍟——««

Tom and Scarlett ended up getting out of bed around 10. He’d sent the girl to the bathroom to do her business and brush her teeth while he made her breakfast, going over some ideas of what they could do for the day in his head.

“How do you feel about going to the aquarium today?” he asked, slipping a pancake onto her plate, letting her decorate it however she wanted. Her eyes widened and she rapidly nodded her head. Tom chuckled, preparing some breakfast for himself, taking a seat next to the girl at the kitchen island.

“Can we see the penguins?” she asked, filling the silence with the innocent question. She let out a squeal when Tom nodded, thanking him with the same amount of energy.

She finished her breakfast quickly, bouncing in her seat as she waited for Tom to tell her she could leave. “Go get dressed, we’ll go in a little while.” She didn’t have to be told twice, jumping down from the seat to run to her room.

Tom left to get dressed a few minutes after her, changing into some jeans, a plain white hoodie and a coat on top.

He waited by the front door for more than a few minutes, confused about what was taking the little girl so long.

Tom didn’t want to impose, he knew she was capable of getting ready herself, but he also didn’t know if something else had possibly gone wrong.

He headed to her room, knocking on the door before pushing it open. “Hey bug, what’s taking so long, you okay?” He could see the tears on her cheeks as she sat in front of the mirror, a hairbrush and a hair tie to her right. “What are the tears for?” He asked softly, bending down beside her to wipe them away.

“I can’t do my hair.” She sniffled, looking up at the man with those big eyes that looked exactly like yours. He was such a sucker for those eyes. “Do you want me to try?”

She nodded, handing him the stuff he needed. He brushed through the strands of her hair as carefully as he could, making sure to avoid brushing any tangles harshly, and apologising if he caught any anyway.

“Ponytail?” he asked. She nodded in confirmation. Tom wasn’t exactly a pro when it came to hair, he’d grown up with 3 brothers, so he didn’t really have anything to do with long hair until he spent those nights when you were drunk. He would always carelessly throw your hair into a bun or ponytail to keep it out of your face when you threw up, receiving a mumbled thank you from yourself.

You’d helped him learn the basics a while ago, teaching him how to do a simple braid and how to do a quick ponytail, but that was all he knew. He was never sure if his versions of the hairstyles would be up to Scarlett’s standards.

He pulled all the strands in, making sure there were no loose ones before wrapping the hair tie around them all, keeping them in place at the back of her head.

“Is that okay?” he asked. She nodded, standing up from her spot. Tom raked his eyes over her outfit, making sure socks were matching and everything was on right before guiding her to the entrance of the house.

She took a seat next to him on the stairs, swinging her legs while she waited for him to pass her, her shoes. She easily slipped them onto her feet, right then left, just like you always did when you were here.

“You think you can tie them yourself?” he asked. She nodded her head, grabbing a hold of the two pieces of white string on her left shoe.

“I’m a big girl,” she argued. Tom raised his hands in defense, muttering an okay.

Her big girl mindset didn’t last for long when she realised she in fact didn’t know how to tie her shoes. Tom tried to hide his smile, knowing this was going to happen.

“Tom?” She asked. He hummed, looking up from where he’d been putting on his shoes. She pointed down to the little converse that were on her feet, the laces messy and undone. “Can you do them, please?”

He tried his best to show her how to do it, but the girl got easily distracted, rambling on about all the different fishies she was going to see. He couldn’t be annoyed, finding it completely adorable how she babbled on.

“Alright, up?” He didn’t want to pick her up if she’d rather walk, not wanting to risk the girl throwing a tantrum so early on in the day. However, to Tom’s surprise, she agreed. She stood on her tiptoes, reaching her hands up to the sky, a signal that she wanted to be lifted up.

Tom scooped her up into his arms, resting her on his hip while he collected everything he needed to head out for the day.

Scarlett busied herself in playing with the chain around Tom’s neck, finding it intriguing for some unexplained reason.

He carried her out to his car, having to follow her instructions on how to get her into the car seat, it seemed to be a struggle for Tom everytime.

Once he was sure she was safely in her seat, Tom climbed into the driver’s seat, sending you a quick text to tell you they were heading out.

At one point during the short drive, Tom glanced through his mirror to see Scarlett quietly singing along to the radio, which he turned up so she could hear better, kicking her legs in her carseat happily.

The aquarium wasn’t too far away, and before Tom knew it they were inside and ready to look around. Scarlett complained about how it felt like it’d taken forever, clutching Tom’s hand with her tiny one as she dragged him towards what she thought looked most interesting.

“Look at that one!” she gasped, pointing to the vibrant coloured fish. Tom nodded, grinning down at the pure happiness on the little girl's face. The sudden vibration in his pocket made Tom jump. He pulled out his phone to see your contact lighting up his screen. He took a few steps back from her, so she was still in his eyeline but her loud squeals weren’t heard in his ear everytime she spotted a pretty fish.

“Hello?”

A smile creeped onto your face just at the sound of his voice, it was all you needed to hear to convince you you could make it till the end of your shift.

“Hi.”

“How are things?” You let out a sigh, glancing around the ward with a bored look.

“It’s okay, I guess, nothing much happened after this morning,” you explained. “How’s it going with Scarlett?” Tom smiled to himself, watching as the girl stared in awe at all the vibrantly coloured fish swimming in the tank.

“I didn’t take her to the zoo because I know you wanted to go, so I brought her to the aquarium you’ve been to before.” Your heart soared. The fact that Tom both listened to your stories about your daughter and respected the things you wanted to do with her were just more things to add to your ‘why Tom is the perfect man’ list.

“Are you having fun?” There was an underlying hint of sadness in your voice that Tom quickly picked up on.

“Yeah, but it’d be even more fun if you were here.” You could hear him quietly talking to Scarlett in the background, something about spotting a certain coloured fish. The girl responded with a squeal of excitement when she found out, gushing about how pretty it looked.

“She sounds happy,” you commented, pulling Tom’s attention away from the girl again.

“I think she is, this is the warmest she’s been with me.”

You bit your lip to try and hold back your smile. You’d both been waiting for the moment she’d decide she was ready to accept Tom as her dad, and it’s been a long journey to get to that point.

“Well, I should go, but i’m glad you’re having fun.”

Scarlett ran over to Tom, clutching his legs and asking who was on the phone. When he responded with a simple ‘mummy’ she decided she needed to talk to you right that second.

She ended up occupying you on the phone for much longer than you’d intended, finding it impossible to get away from the girl while she was ranting about all the different animals and fish they’d seen.

“I don’t want to keep you then, tell Tom to have fun too okay?” She mumbled a quiet okay. Tom was watching her with an amused grin, finding it adorable how large his phone looked pressed against her head. You said your I love you’s before hanging up to continue wallowing in your own self pity.

»»——⍟——««

The picture Tom sent you around 1 was the thing that kept you going, but was simultaneously the thing that almost made you cry in the middle of the hospital.

The two were sitting in the restaurant at the aquarium, the girl cuddling some kind of fluffy penguin teddy that you were sure Tom insisted he buy for her, while grinning at the camera.

He followed it up with a little message afterwards that basically confirmed your suspicions.

‘She loved the penguins and I couldn’t resist, this is Oswald x’

You giggled at the name, an obvious reference to the time Harrison came over and let her watch Batman. You ended up setting the picture as your lock screen, clicking your lock button to see your baby’s face light up your phone screen.

Your eyes drifted up to the clock on your phone, seeing you had at least another 2 hours left of work.

You wish you could say those last couple hours flew by, but it felt like they were never going to end. You spent most of the time being handed more and more tasks to do that you were scared you wouldn’t finish before the time you could go home.

Thankfully you did, wanting to practically scream with relief once you climbed into your car. You felt like you had more energy now that at any point during your day, which was very confusing considering the long almost 10 hour shift you had.

You heard the excited yells of your daughter the second you walked through the door of your home. She’d quite clearly seen your car pull up outside and just couldn’t wait to greet you.

“There she is.” You were almost tackled into a hug by the four year old, the girl beaming at you. Tom helped you slip your jacket off once Scarlett decided to let go of you.

“So, how was it?” She was more than happy to tell you again every single thing her and Tom did, going as far as describing almost each and every one of the fishies in detail.

Tom joined in at random parts with bits of information that seemed to slip past her excited mind. He watched you both with a smile, silently laughing at you when you realised you’d probably be here for days if you didn’t stop her.

“That sounds like so much fun, but you need to go and get ready for when Nikki comes.”

She still hadn’t taken up calling Tom’s mother Grandma yet, but you reassured her that it’d come with time, exactly the same as your reassurances to Tom.

She ran away to her room to do as you said, leaving you and Tom a moment alone before you got ready for your date.

Tom’s hands made a beeline for your waist once she was out of sight, bringing you in close to him until you were pressed up against his chest.

“Hello handsome.” A faint blush creeped onto Tom’s cheeks, the man trying to hide it by burying his face in your neck. He placed soft kisses all over the skin there, earning him a pleased sigh from you.

Your hands trailed up the expanse of his muscly back, eventually residing in his mess of hair. Gentle tugs on the short curls were what brought his attention away from your neck.

He smiled at you, resting his forehead on yours. Your noses occasionally clashed from the close proximity, but neither of you cared enough to pull away. He was the one to close the gap between you, slotting your lips together in a slow kiss. It wasn’t hungry or needy in any way, more so screaming that you’d missed each other.

“We should get ready,” you mumbled onto his lips, unwilling to pull away just yet.

He hummed. “We really should.”

Neither of you made an attempt to move. This time it was you who couldn’t stand not kissing him, placing such a soft peck on his lips that he was sure it almost didn’t happen.

“I love you.” You grinned, rubbing your thumb over his unruly eyebrow, eyes flickered over the tiny features of his face. He took the time to study your eyes while you did so, noticing the little flecks of different colours that didn’t match your overall eye colour.

You finally looked into his eyes, those golden, honey orbs that just made you melt inside everytime they stared at you with just so much adoration.

“I love you too.”

He let you go and get ready after that, pouting adorably as he watched you strut your way to your bedroom. You picked out your outfit before hand, pulling the hanger with the gorgeous silver dress out of your wardrobe, laying it on the bed.

You knew Tom would probably sneak a look at it, but seeing it on a hanger wouldn’t even compare to seeing it on your body.

You took a lot longer getting ready than you expected to, purely due to the long, hot shower you took that felt like a necessity after your work day, and also the fact you hadn’t truly gotten yourself dolled up for something in a while, something that you greatly missed.

Tom was there as soon as you were finished to make you feel even better about yourself, throwing compliments at you left and right that left you a flustered mess of butterflies.

At some point Scarlett had creeped into your room, looking at your pretty dress in awe.

“Doesn’t your mummy look pretty?” She nodded her head rapidly, complimenting you profusely. Your fiancé knew you were getting flustered, trying to cover your face to hide from your own embarrassment. He placed a quick kiss on your head, his hand slipping down to the small of your back to guide you to the front door.

You gave Scarlett a tight hug, telling her to behave, while Tom placed a kiss on her head.

“Thank you again,” you gushed, making sure to give Tom’s mum an extra tight hug before you left. She always told you that she loved taking care of Scarlett, even if she wasn’t her biological granddaughter.

Tom led you out of the house with a lovesick grin plastered on his face, making you rather suspicious about what he was up to.

“What are you so smiley about?” you asked. He simply shrugged, placing a kiss on your knuckles as he told you absolutely nothing.

“Just happy to finally have to myself.”

»»——⍟——««

The small body of the girl barreled towards you as soon as you stepped through the front door. She surprisingly almost knocked your balance, forcing a giggle out of your slightly tipsy self.

You were able to scoop her up, holding her on your hip.

“I know, we’re home,” you whispered, cradling her to your chest. She tucked her head into your neck, trying to not let sleep consume her so she had more time to spend with her favourite person.

While you were snuggling your baby, Tom was once again thanking his mother, telling her a little about the lovely night you had at the restaurant.

Nikki could see in his eyes as he watched you, just how much adoration he felt for both of you. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen her son look like that.

“Missed you,” she mumbled, muffled by the way her mouth was resting on you. You responded with a simple kiss, noting how her eyes were so desperately trying to flutter shut.

You couldn’t blame her, you had accidentally woken her up at a ridiculous time in the morning and she was still only a toddler who often took multiple naps throughout the day.

“Let’s get you to bed.” She whined in your ear out of protest, shaking her head in your neck. Her head raised, looking around the room until her eyes landed on Tom.

She twisted in your arms so you were only holding her by her stomach. Scarlett made grabby hands at Tom, a sleepy pout on her lips when he didn’t instantly come over.

“Can daddy put me to bed?” she asked, so innocently.

Tom froze, his heart growing in size as he stared at her. You and Nikki shared a look, one that told the other you were happy you could experience this moment.

He didn’t exactly know what to do, becoming a bit of a stuttering mess. He’d been waiting at least over a year since you’d gotten engaged for her to say that one word, a sort of confirmation that she was happy he was there.

You could see the tears lining his waterline as his mind replayed the 6 words she just uttered. It seemed to take him a few seconds to come back down to earth, nodding his head. You helped transfer Scarlett from your arms to his much stronger ones, the male making it look like lifting a feather. Scarlett shifted slightly, sighing as she got comfortable in his hold.

“Yeah, of course, daddy can put you to bed.”

»»——⍟——««

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#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #tom holland imagines #tom holland oneshot #dad!tom #stepdad!tom

[lisinfleur]

Memento Mori

The request:

Author’s Notes | This came out sadder than I thought. But it’s beautiful imo and I hope you like it. Universe | Vikings Pairing | Ivar x Reader Info | requested by anon for 5CW Ivar II, posted for HTGI Event. Words | 1894 ⁑ Warnings: Triggering content: mentions of child loss (past), mentions to burns, deep angst. Caution is recommended, the following content may be triggering to some audiences.

She became my queen.

From a woman I couldn't handle looking at to the one I didn't want to take my eyes off, Y/N became the most precious of my treasures.

And perhaps it was the reason why finding that piece of metal hidden beneath her pillow was such a huge betrayal to me.

Perhaps it was for loving her too deeply that I let out raw screams of rage that woke up the whole Hall when I found that symbol of her lies.

I could remember every trace of our story.

The day I chose her from the line of our Saxon's slaves because she noticed I was in pain.

"I know how to care for these pains, my lord."

Her ointments, her treatments, how slowly she eased the pain of my body more than any healer was able to do. How, one night at a time, it brought her closer to me like a companion.

How it made me talk to her, be gentler, try to get her smiles.

How her presence became the easiest way to get mine.

My fingers pressed that piece of retorted metal, remembering how deep I'd fallen in love with her. How she promised she would leave her past for me. How I asked her to come home with me. To come into my life. To be mine, and no one else's.

Every single promise of hers was broken by that piece's presence.

How could I trust her when she was betraying me like that? Laying beside me with that symbol as if it wasn't a crime by itself against my trust, against my love.

Against everything.

"How could you?" I yelled when she came into our room, attracted by my screams. "How could you lie to me like this?"

The metal cross, made of gold and silver, hanging from my fingers for her major shock and surprise.

"Ivar..."

"No!" I yelled again.

My voice was as loud as the pain was big in my heart.

"I've been trusting you all these years, Y/N. I trusted your promises! I made you my wife!" I said, looking at her with fierce and sharp blues. "I made you my queen... I gave you everything and this... This is how you repay my love!"

"Ivar no!" she insisted, trying to approach. "It's not what you think..."

I pushed her away, watching as she fell near the fireplace.

"Don't come to me with more of your lies, woman!" I kept yelling, furious. "What more, Y/N?" I asked.

My eyes deep inside of hers.

"What more about you is a lie? What more did you tell me you would do that you're not doing, my dear wife? Uh? What more?!"

Her tears started rolling down her face, but I could see her eyes were focused on the piece in my hand, and it just made me angrier. She wasn't really feeling bad nor guilty about lying to me.

No.

Her major concern was that piece in my hands. That cross was so beloved that she could ignore my deepest wounds to look at it with all the fear of Midgard in her eyes.

She wasn't afraid of losing me the same way she was terrified by the idea of losing that scrap of meaningless metal I had in my hands.

I've seen it in red.

I didn't see when I threw that shit in the fire, hearing with contempt the yell of despair her voice converted into. Watching with deception while she burned her own fingers to pick that piece from the fire, hurting her hands I'd caressed so many times.

Everything just to have back that meaningless symbol of her treason.

The metal didn't even have time to get warm enough to be damaged, but she had marks from the burning wood she had touched fearlessly for that insignificant proof of her crime.

"Is it this strong?" I asked, looking at her with disdain. "Your faith in him is so..."

"It was my child's!" she cried out loud, cutting my voice.

Freezing me in place when her sobs broke her voice, and I saw her bringing that cross close to her heart, embracing it with her wounded hands as if it was the most precious thing in this world.

"It was my child's crucifix," she sobbed. "It was everything that's left from my baby boy. I didn't have time to pick up his clothes. I couldn't pick up anything. This is everything that's left."

My shock was maybe as big as my confusion.

"You... Had a child?" I asked, totally stunned by those words.

Still trembling, Y/N lifted her face, looking at me with thick tears in her eyes full of sorrow.

"My little Rafael..." she mumbled, making my face frown with all the love in the way she spoke his name.

I could remember hearing something about a Rafael from Bishop Heahmund, cycles ago. Something about an arch-angel or something like that.

"I named him after the archangel of healing, begging God to heal his awful pain. Begging anyone who could bless my hands to relieve his constant misery," she continued.

Crushing my heart with the sigh of my mother's eyes on hers.

She was speaking of her Rafael the same way mother used to speak about... Me.

"He was my everything. My one and only child my husband didn't want to accept. He left me because of Rafael's condition, saying I'd given birth to a demon. But My child wasn't a demon!" she yelled.

Defending her child... The same way mother would do to me...

"He's not a monster!"

I swallowed dry as she continued, making that knot in my throat almost suffocating.

"Rafael was just a child in pain. His legs were like yours," she cried.

Her burnt fingers caressing the jewel in her hands.

"Sometimes, I couldn't even hold my son without hurting him," she mumbled painfully. "Sometimes, even the minimum movement would break his little bones, so I was twice as careful when doing anything to my little angel. But..."

The pause in her voice filled my heart with sorrow.

I had never scratched that part of her story. I could imagine why.

I could imagine how it would end.

"First, I thought he was indeed a little angel God decided to take back to the sky. Then... Then the anger came. Why would God make such an innocent angel suffer like that? Why giving him to me if I would have to bury his little broken body with my bare hands? I yelled at God. I cried at him. But he never answered me. And then... I got revolted. My little Rafael wasn't with me anymore. And it was God's fault for doing him that way! It was God's fault for allowing my child to suffer. It was my fault for producing him imperfectly. It was everyone's fault!" she paused, swallowing her sobs for a moment. "And when your men came, when your faith came, and I've heard your words about yourself, I finally understood. It was no one's fault. It was his fate. It was my fate. And God didn't make him like that to suffer. No. The gods had given him to me as a gift so he could spend the most beautiful days of my life in my arms. The gods had cut the thread of his life to spare him from suffering cause his condition was worse than yours. And he wouldn't survive as long as you did."

Her words were killing me inside, softly.

She'd found relief in my faith. She'd found an answer to her questions in my gods. And there I was, hurting her because of a stupid necklace.

"The gods showed me their mercy bringing you into my life so I could understand my child's fate. And so..." Y/N looked at me. "So I thought they wouldn't be mad if I saved this little memento. It means nothing the faith it carries, Ivar. It's not Christ's cross anymore. This... This is my remembrance of my sweet Rafael. This doesn't turn me to the skies, Ivar. This makes me remember his tiny little fingers trying to catch this cross in my hands, or his giggles whenever it would shine for him to see."

Her voice broke. The sobs engulfed her. And I saw her embracing the necklace again as if she could embrace her child the gods had taken from her so soon.

How stupid I was. How unfair could I be?

I sat in my bed, taking off my braces and dragging myself closer to her, bringing my bandages and ointment I took from my nightstand. Slowly, I took the small piece from her hands, treating it with the proper respect when I placed it gently on her neck, carrying for her hands and bandaging the burns after spreading the ointment over them.

I kissed her fingers and cupped her face, kissing her forehead and wiping her tears.

"I'm sorry," I said, looking into her eyes. "I'm deeply sorry for what I did, my love. Forgive me, please." I asked.

No shame of showing my regret, gently caressing her cheeks.

She leaned into my hands, so mine. Her eyes closed as she felt my caresses, sighing as if they could soothe the pain in her heart.

"I didn't lie to you, my heart. I swear," she mumbled.

"Shhh..." I said, touching her lips gently. "I know. I was wrong," I mumbled, touching our foreheads, slowly nuzzling my nose to hers.

"He taught me how to take care of you, my love," she said, opening her eyes so deep into mine. "I've learned with my child how to soothe your pain. He was so important in my life... I would've never known how to care for you if it wasn't for his existence. He allowed us to exist. And I'm so grateful I had him, although it was for such little time, I'm grateful."

I held her in my arms, cradling her body against mine. And I stayed there a long time trying to compensate for my horrible behavior.

When she fell asleep that night, I went out of our house. I crawled up on the hill, and I gathered stones. I placed them all together, and marked them with runes, placing some flowers and small decorations around them.

I made it as if it was my own child. And I prayed for him, asking the gods he could hear me that single night.

"I don't know where you are. If with Hel or in heaven, as the Christians believe. But I want you to know I'll take care of her. I swear on my arm ring I'll never make her cry like this once again. And when your brothers and sisters come, I'll tell them about you. I'll tell them your story. So, you shall live through them. So, you shall live forever."

After that, I saw my dear Y/N with her precious cross here or there. She didn't have to hide it from me anymore, so, sometimes, I would see her holding the small jewel with tenderness. But now, it had a whole new meaning to me.

And I knew, somewhere in the afterlife, a child was very happy for the loving mother that brought him into this world someday.

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#history vikings #imagine vikings #ivar #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar's heathen army #sister wives #htgi #shot

[yslkook]

sonder

pairing: taehyung x reader (exes au) summary: sonder: the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own. or

“What am I about to say?”

“That nothing has worked out for you since we dated, because even though the women you date are all wonderful, all you see in them is me,” You exhale, “I might have to kick you out if you say something as predictable as that.”

word count: 3459 warnings: alcohol, smut (penetrative sex, oral f receiving, tae is possessive for like half a second, some tears) a/n: inspired by these pictures of taehyung. also if this feels rushed, that was on purpose- i wanted to make them kinda messy 

Your second whiskey of the evening burns something bitter in the back of your throat, but you welcome it. It’s a welcome respite from the shitty week you’ve had, but that’s besides the point.

One of your favorite things to do to unwind after a tough week is to people watch, and one of your favorite places to do so was at the bars near your apartment. You liked to create vivid stories for these people that walked through the bar- who they were, what their backstories were. It was an amusing game to you, and even if both Yoongi and Hobi told you that you needed a better hobby, you’d only scoff at them.

Speaking of, Yoongi was supposed to be joining you soon. But apparently he’s running late. About fifteen minutes late, according to his cryptic text from earlier:

yoongi: running late, im bringing a friend

You think nothing of it, not really. And you just sip on your whiskey, watching a pair of new faces walk through the door from your stealthy booth in the corner of the bar.

You should’ve known that when Yoongi had said he was bringing a friend, it meant Taehyung. You briefly remember Yoongi telling you that Taehyung had moved back to the city a few weeks ago.

Taehyung, who had moved away halfway across the world years ago as a novice in the art history world. Taehyung, who had broken your delicate heart and taken pieces of it with him more than five years ago.

But even so, you harbor no ill feelings towards the man. He did what he had to do, and you did as well. It’s been so long now, that he should almost be a stranger to you. 

Yoongi watches the way your lips part in surprise at the sight of Taehyung- he knows there are still lingering feelings, maybe a lack of closure. Maybe something else that you don’t feel like discussing or diving into. You send him a hearty death glare his way but Yoongi ignores it.

You and Taehyung are nothing if not stubborn. Taehyung hasn’t stopped asking about you since he moved back to the city.

After all, you’ve hardly dated since Taehyung broke up with you. You had sincerely, genuinely believed that he was your one and only, your forever. It just hadn’t felt right, not with anyone else. So you just stopped, not wanting to force love with people if your heart really wasn’t in it.

And now, Taehyung is standing in front of you, dressed in expensive black from head to toe, looking as if he had just walked off of the runway before meeting up with Yoongi. His hair is longer than you ever remembered it being, two small silver hoops in his ears.

Handsome. He looks healthy and warm. He looks good.

You clear your throat and wave at both of them, opening your arms for a hug. Yoongi’s hug is brief, you see the man at least once or twice a week, but you pinch his waist for ambushing you like this. You gasp softly when Taehyung wraps his arms around you. You’d apparently forgotten how his body just fits into yours. Even after all this time.

It truly hasn’t been that long, but it feels like it.

“Hi,” Taehyung breathes into your hair. You should pull away, you really should. You can’t even meet Yoongi’s eyes, too bewitched by the hold that Taehyung somehow still has on you. 

You feel as though your heart is running a mile a minute, and yet it feels like you’re greeting an old friend after a long time. 

“Taehyung,” You say softly, his name sounding like a ghost of a memory, “It’s been a long time.”

You sit in your booth and Taehyung sits next to Yoongi. It feels like three old friends catching up after a while, not like if two exes are sitting with their mutual best friend trying not to catch glimpses of the other.

You take a sip of your drink with shaky hands. It’s going to be a long night.

At some point during the evening, Yoongi claims that Hoseok has an emergency and that he has to go. You think he planned this (both him and Hobi), because there’s a meddling glint in his eye that you haven’t seen recently.

You panic, scrambling to somehow get Yoongi to stay, so that you’re not alone with Taehyung. You’re afraid of what you might do or say. Or for what you might not do or say.

And yet, talking to him comes like second nature. Maybe it’s because you have years of history between the both of you, even if you haven’t spoken in the last five.

It hurt so much. When he broke up with you, you mourned the loss of your best friend. He had said you could try to be friends, but you couldn’t handle it at the time. And then more time went by… and suddenly, he was barely a thought in your passing mind. Yet, he still lingered, in your mannerisms. Maybe some part of you was still waiting on him. Which wasn’t healthy… But it wasn’t hurting anyone. And besides, you were okay. But you had never really believed in soulmates until Taehyung. Perhaps it was the lack of closure. 

At least that’s what you convinced yourself, because seeing Taehyung like this, laughing and talking to you as if no time has past throws you for a loop.

Mainly because… it’s so easy to fall into conversation with him. It’s so easy to laugh with him and make him laugh. You enjoy learning about everything he’s been up to over the last few years, all of his adventures, the sights he’s seen. How enthusiastic he is, how he finds beauty in everything.

You both had always been such good friends. Maybe that’s what you miss more than anything. Somehow, hours go by and you both are left to be the only ones in the bar-

“Hey what brought you here to begin with?” Taehyung asks, holding the door open for you, “Had a bad day? You still like people watching?”

“Yeah,” You say wistfully, “Something like that.”

He squeezes your shoulder in reassurance. You catch his eyes in the streetlights and feel your heart swell.

Even if it’s been more than five years since you saw Taehyung last, since you felt his fingers thread in between yours… it still feels so familiar. It’s funny, isn’t it? How so much time can go by, how you can be strangers on paper but feel like you’ve known his soul for this entire time.

His smile glows in the moonlight. A light breeze cradles him, carding through his dark strands of hair gently. You can vividly recall a time when it was you- your fingers running through his hair through soft laughs and unkept promises.

You wonder if your heart is still his, after all this time. It’s not as if you’ve had many people to compare your all-consuming five year relationship to in the last few years. Every person you met, you found yourself comparing to your ex-boyfriend. It wasn’t healthy.

And you had known that he had moved on from your own mutual friends. You don’t even know if he’s single right now, but you knew he was in a relationship a year ago… Or maybe two? Maybe you should care a little more, but you’ll blame it on the whiskey for causing you to squeeze his hand a little harder and lean into him.

Taehyung looks exactly the same, he feels exactly the same as he did when you were twenty-two and stupid enough to believe that you would make it. He’s always felt like he fit the messy edges of your soul perfectly, and even now, you feel that familiar warmth of his soul rubbing up against yours.

Even as he’s chatting away, eyes crinkling in genuine happiness, you’re hardly listening. You’re only thinking about how nice he feels next to you. 

Serendipity. It must be serendipity, for him to show up in your life again when you had been teetering on the edge of misery and self-deprecation. Your head is jumbled, brain filled with nothing but sweet memories of him and your heart is aching for something you might never have again.

But all you have is now. So when Taehyung twirls you easily and sways with you under the dimmed light of a street lamp, pulling a surprised laugh out of you, you make your decision.

“Where’s your new big girl apartment?” Taehyung asks, a hint of longing in his tone.

“It’s not new,” You scoff, “But I live, like, five blocks away.”

Taehyung takes your hand in his again, asking you questions about your apartment. How you found it, do you like it, do you have roommates. To which you shrug and tell him that you like being alone. Something shifts in his eyes, something sad. He recalls your thirst for life when you both had been together- always ready to try something new, always wanting to be around people, always dreaming with your head in the sky.

He wonders what changed. You’re so quiet, eyes a little dark, shoulders tense. Maybe that’s what growing up is. Maybe that’s what tumbling out of your early twenties and into your late twenties is.

Or maybe you’ve just changed in general. It’s been a long time, after all. Since you both mutually broke up, since he moved halfway across the globe. 

But still, he catches sparks, flutters of embers in your gaze. He catches the tender, playful excitement that you’ve always held near and dear to your heart- it’s what made you and him such a good team years ago.

Talking to him is so easy, not that you thought it would be difficult to begin with. It’s always been easy with him, easy to laugh with him, easy to love him. 

The front door of your apartment building comes into view. Your hand is still in his. Taehyung hesitates on letting you go, but he does.

“It was nice to see you,” Taehyung murmurs, allowing himself the brush of the back of his hand on your cheekbone, “I mean it.”

“Yeah. I’m glad I ran into you, too. Even if I was stuffing my face with whiskeys,” You grin and lean into his touch, “Even if Yoongi probably played both of us.”

“Don’t know when you became such a whiskey girl.”

“It’s been years, Taehyung. I’m sure I’ve got a few more surprises for you,” You say, smile falling into something more intense, “Wanna come find out what they are?”

“Thought you’d never ask, sweetheart.”

Taehyung’s lips are on yours the minute you close the door to your apartment. His hands are molded to your hips over your clothes and you instantly moan into his mouth loudly, slipping your tongue past his lips eagerly. Drinking him up as if he’s been yours to drink up this entire time.

You fumble with the buttons of his peacoat, nearly ready to yank the buttons off. Patience has never been your strong suit, but you just want to feel him. 

But the minute you pull away for air, you re-center yourself. No matter how enticing his bitten lips are…

“Are you single?” You ask bluntly.

“Why?” Taehyung says with an arch of his stupidly perfect eyebrow, “You falling in love with me again?”

“Shut up, you wish. I thought you had a girlfriend,” You say pointedly, toeing out of your heels and hanging your jackets up in the coat closet.

“You keeping tabs on me? I knew it,” Taehyung says, looking a little too smug about it.

“Shut the fuck up,” You swat his chest, “Yoongi may have mentioned it to me once or twice.”

More like he told you multiple times when you were drunk, wasted and crying over Taehyung because you never truly got over him. In some corner of the deepest part of your heart, you never got over him.

“I’m not dating anyone. Or talking, seeing anyone,” Taehyung shrugs, “That didn’t work out. Nothing’s really worked out, not since…”

“Don’t say it,” You mutter, “Don’t say what I think you’re about to say.”

You need another drink. So you pour yourself another hefty glass of whiskey and pour one out for him, too.

“What am I about to say?”

“That nothing has worked out for you since we dated, because even though the women you date are all wonderful, all you see in them is me,” You exhale, “I might have to kick you out if you say something as predictable as that.”

“And if it’s true?”

“Then I’m definitely kicking you out. Might need another five years to see you again,” You whisper. He moves closer to you, tentatively holding your hips in his. You don’t push him away, only looking up at him with wide eyes.

“I missed you so fucking much,” Taehyung breathes into your hair, wrapping you in a hug, “You have no idea. And you? Are you single?”

“No, you missed the idea of me. Of us,” You mumble, but you’re unable to pull out of his hold, “We were young, we had dreams… And yeah, I’m single.”

“We could’ve made it work-”

“Taehyung, stop it,” You mutter, throat going dry with barely concealed yearning for him, “We both made the choices we made for a reason. You’re here and I’m here for a reason. Don’t wanna talk about what if’s with you anymore. Just kiss me, Taehyung-”

Taehyung doesn’t need to be told twice, cupping your face in his big hands and pressing his soft lips to yours instantly. Time feels like nothing between you both, but it feels like he’s trying to learn this new version of you through your kiss. 

You’re undecided on whether this is a one time thing, but all you know is that you want him. And you want him now. His hands are warm over your thighs as he lifts you up in his arms, your chest plastered to his. His hair has gotten longer, dark strands effortlessly falling into his forehead.

He’s so handsome and you swoon when his lips press against your neck. Taehyung still remembers what you like, what your favorite spots are.

It’s almost as if no time has passed. You both ignore it, ignore the nostalgia creeping into the crevices of your kisses.

“Mmm, my bedroom’s that way,” You mumble hoarsely, pulling away with hooded eyes. 

“You’ll have to give me a proper tour later,” Taehyung says, his voice somehow even deeper.

“Yeah, you’d be so lucky,” You snort and Taehyung shuts you up with another searing kiss. He doesn’t miss the meticulous way you’ve decorated your cozy home, pops of color and decorations that are so very you in every corner. He sees a small photo collage in the corner of your bedroom. 

Once upon a time, a photo of you and him would’ve been the crown jewel.

“Tae,” You mumble, “Stop, focus on me. I want you-”

So he does.

Your legs close around Taehyung’s head, his tongue slipping into your glossy folds for the third time that evening. He can’t get enough of your soft noises, even when you’re telling him it’s too much, you widen your legs for him to slot in between them easily. Taehyung hikes your legs over his shoulder, nearly rutting into the bed at the sight of your quivering bottom lip and the way your tits bounce.

He palms you lewdly, squeezing and pinching.  “You’re so wet,” Taehyung moans into your pussy, “Fuck, baby-”

“Taehyung,” You breathe, voice sounding broken even to your own ears, “I want you, I want your cock…”

“You sure you want this?” Taehyung asks, his voice strained.

“Yeah,” You nod eagerly, “Do you?” 

With a nod, “Do you have condoms?” He rasps, nose nudging your clit.

“Y-yeah,” You moan, “The nightstand, first drawer. Brand new box, never before used-”

“Really?” Taehyung raises an eyebrow, “When was the last time, baby?”

“The last time what,” You whine, tugging on his forearm.

“Last time you had sex,” Taehyung says, pulling the box out from your nightstand. 

“Uhhh… when you broke up with me?” You shrug sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Shit,” He groans, “Seriously?”

You don’t miss how he palms himself over his pants at your words. He’s always had a hint of possessiveness in him, and you already know that he’s trying to process that the last person, the only person to have ever seen you like this was him.

“Yeah, I didn’t have luck the way you did, I guess,” You say lightly, “Not that I was trying very hard, though.”

“Damn, baby, nobody’s been loving you right, huh?” Taehyung says, pulling out a condom from the box with shaky hands.

“Yeah. Not even you,” You say. Maybe that was mean, but his eyes flash at you in warning.

“Come here,” He says, a soft demand, “Did you miss me?”

You shrug playfully and unbutton his pants for him. He swats your roaming hands away and they land on his belly, your nails scratching lazily. Taehyung has always looked like a vision, but seeing him like this, hovering above you with golden, tanned skin and his jaw locked, looking every bit like the man of your dreams...

He commands, demands respect. Your pussy throbs just from the sight of him shucking off his pants and his boxers in one go, tugging his hard and heavy cock roughly with one hand.

You swear you drool. Your head is empty, only thoughts of him, his big hands, broad shoulders-

“Did you miss me, baby,” Taehyung asks again, voice a little rougher, a little harsher.

“Does it matter,” You challenge him, “You only want my pussy-”

“And you only want my cock-”

“So give it to me then. Since you know me so well,” You sneer. You gasp in surprise when he swats your thigh and then moan his name when he pushes the head of his cock into you without much warning.

“You talk so fucking much,” Taehyung breathes, cupping your cheeks with one hand.

“Shit,” You gasp, “You’re so fucking big-”

You squeeze your eyes shut and Taehyung stills inside of you, giving you time to adjust to him. He peppers sweet kisses over your forehead, a contrast to his previous words. You cannot believe that somehow, Taehyung is back in your bed, his cock buried deep within you. 

The thought makes your eyes water. You’re a little overwhelmed.

“What’s wrong,” Taehyung asks when he sees your wet eyes, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Nothing, you’re just so big,” You mumble, avoiding his eyes. Taehyung looks at you suspiciously but says nothing.

He’s the only one who’s ever had you like this. The thought makes something in his belly flare, the urge to leave bruises on your welcoming hips and pound into your wet pussy growing and growing with each second.

But he doesn’t move, not until you give him the okay. Taehyung’s fingers are tight around your hips, loose around your neck, his lips plastered to any inch of skin he can reach. With the first rock of his hips into you, you wrap your legs around his waist and shudder in his arms.

He nuzzles your neck, chest plastered against yours. Your nails are tightly pressed into his biceps, surely leaving marks for tomorrow morning. Your soft cries of his name sound like sweet rapture, something he’s been searching for for years. Or something that he had and something he let go of.

And then he wonders how he ever spent the last few years not buried in your pussy, when you feel something like home to him.

“You know, I moved back here a few weeks ago,” Taehyung says, turning on his side to face you, hands gentle over your chest.

“Oh, I know. Yoongi and Hobi wouldn’t shut up about it. They really missed you,” You reply, not meeting his eyes.

“And you? Did you?” Taehyung asks again. You hesitate.

“Does it matter, Taehyung?” You mumble, brushing his hair away from his eyes, “Does it change anything?”

“It could. If you wanted it to,” He murmurs, pulling you into his chest. His fingers are light over your spine, but you scoff.

“Don’t say shit like that,” You sigh, pressing your hand to his face. 

He only laughs with his big, bright smile and pulls you in closer, kissing your forehead. “I can leave you know. If you want me to. If this is... weird.”

“I think we’re way past weird, Taehyung. If I wanted you to leave, I would’ve kicked you out by now,” You say easily and ignore the way his smile sends unfamiliar butterflies through your belly, “Go to sleep. I’ll decide if I wanna kick you out in the morning.”

#taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #kim taehyung x reader #taehyung fic

[kosmosguk]

Fôret de Cauchemars (M)

Pairing: sleep psychiatrist kim namjoon x reader

Word Count: 6.3K

Summary: Plagued by nightmares of your boyfriend’s death, you turn to sleep psychiatrist Kim Namjoon for help. What you find in him is condolence in your isolated world, a ray of sunlight breaking through gaps of rotting leaves. What you find in him is a dream, a beautiful dream, until that dream shatters to reveal the true nightmare underneath. Sometimes, nightmares seamlessly blend into reality, and, unfortunately, waking up simply won’t make them go away anymore.  

Warnings: Yandere themes, death, murder, mature themes (bondage, cunnilingus, unprotected sex), smut, violence, kidnapping, self-loathing, psychological disorders, manipulation,  mentions of suicide, gore 

A/N: Finally back with a fic in a...month? Sorry for the delay; the work load of classes this year has been a real bonk to the vibes, but hopefully testing out a oneshot fic will get me back in the writing energy. Happy fall, and maybe (just maybe) we’ll vibe it up with a new spooky series featuring our beloved yandere bangtan boys! Dedicated to Namjoon’s birthday (although it’s been weeks), and hopefully Jungkook’s birthday fic will be up next. Unfortunately, this means next release of Lineage might not be until October/early November, but I hope you guys stick around!

You didn’t quite know when the nightmares began.

They were unconscious little pricks of fear, the kind that crawled under your skin into your skull and left you with a cold sweat and rapid heartbeat. You always forgot them when you woke up, but their influence was engraved into your bones and etched in every sleep-deprived jolt of paranoia and every accusatory glance you threw to your empty surroundings. You felt eyes on you, even though the remnants of your fading rationality knew that there was nothing there.

Each night filled with the conflict of battling off your body’s desire to sleep left you even more exhausted and even more terrified of some nameless entity that your sleepless mind had conjured up.

The nightmares did not stop. They refused to stop; you knew you needed to solve it somehow. That brought you to the moment of now, in the present, across from a sleep psychiatrist in an office with an air condition system that blew cold gusts of air against the back of your neck and left bumps of goosebumps rising up on your skin.

You curled in on yourself, picking at the ends of your sleeves until the threads became loose, as the sound of rustling paper flipping between your sleep psychiatrist’s fingers filled up the gaps of your sleep-deprived mind. You tentatively threw a glance at the man across from you.

If you weren’t nearly irrational from the lack of sleep, you would’ve been able to truly appreciate how handsome the man was. He was the kind of handsome that artists drew portraits and sculpted of and poets waxed long pages of sonnets about. With smoky gray hair slicked back, eyes curved elegantly behind silver-rimmed glasses, and a sharp mouth set back in a firm expression, Dr. Kim was the type of beautiful that you found in every sharp edge of an icicle.

However, it was unnerving how familiar you felt with his beauty.

“(Y/n) (L/n), correct?’’

His voice, a baritone that encased the chilly office air, drew you back into your blurry reality. You heard a soft click as he turned on his stopwatch. The soft ticking noise reverberated in the still room, just a tinge louder than the blast of the air conditioning. You nodded your head mutely before reaching up to rub at your sore, burning eyes.

“Yes…,” you fought back a yawn, and your words slurred a bit as tears prickled your eyes,” Sorry…’m jus’ tired.”

His gaze, previously neutral, softened a bit more at your pitiful state.

“Though it is currently difficult right now, we’ll work through any psychological stressors that may be causing your nightmares. When did the nightmares begin?’’

You blinked owlishly at him—well, you were more like a raccoon than an owl with how severe your dark circles were, though that was a jab of humor your dwindling mind allowed you on only rare occasions—as you tried to register his words.

“Hmm,’’ you rolled your shoulders back, and a dull ache throbbed through your body as you stretched it,” I don’t…really remember. I don’t remember a lot of things now. Can’t even remember what I did yesterday… Maybe…a couple months ago? They weren’t…weren’t as bad as they are now, so I didn’t really pay attention to them.”

“Have you tried any over the counter sleep medications?’’

You scratched your neck.

Tick, tick, tick.

“Tried a few, but the nightmares didn’t seem to go away. Woke up…,” you shook yourself as if to demonstrate,” cold sweat and everything after a bit. Nightmares came right away, which is weird cause I don’t think I’m even asleep long enough to enter REM.”

“We’ll try a stronger prescription to see if it’ll help you sleep better. Has there been any troubling situations lately? Some time before the nightmares started, right when they started, or even ongoing ones?’’

You blinked again, your eyelids scraping against your dry eyes.

“Hmm…Someone, uh, passed away… My boyfriend? Maybe these nightmares are about losing him, but I dunno…can’t remember them.”

“Would you like to talk more about this?’’ Though his tone was more gentle, Dr. Kim had a look in his eyes that seemed even more chilling than the artificially generated wind against your skin.

You didn’t pay attention. It took you a lot more effort to pay attention to things nowadays and noticing tiny almost unnoticeable things was even more difficult.

“Yeah…It was tough that time. He disappeared, and they found his body. Said he killed himself, but, uh,’’ you tugged even harder on the loose threads, your eyes glued to them,’’ I didn’t even notice the signs…”

“Do you blame yourself for what happened?’’

You blinked once and then twice and then thrice. You could not look at Dr. Kim, but there was a strange shift in the air. Maybe it was a delusional mix of emotions and sleep deprivation. Maybe it was something more. You settled on the former.

The next words came out a bit more choked than you wanted them to. You thought you might’ve cried if you weren’t already so mentally and physically exhausted.

“Yeah…I was his girlfriend. Shoulda seen the signs, but I was busy, and we were drifting apart…,” you bitterly mumbled,” No excuse, though. I have no excuses…”

A silence settled between the two of you. You felt like you had just bored some piece that you had crammed in your soul so tight that it drifted into your thoughts like a second poison. You were so tired; you wanted to tuck yourself into the leather chair and fall asleep to avoid how vulnerable you felt. You noticed him level his steady gaze on you.

“No one can see the signs. People are good at hiding the worst things affecting them, even from those they care for deeply and who care for them deeply. You can’t continue to blame yourself for events in the past that cannot be changed and let that blame affect the you of the present and the future. (Y/n), the first way to conquer your nightmares is to forgive yourself.”

For the first time in the meeting, you raised your gaze to meet Dr. Kim’s gaze straight on. Your eyes, vulnerable and holding onto a devastatingly deep sorrow, were surprised to see that the look in Dr. Kim’s eyes was not as pulled together as his words were. But maybe, as you unconsciously tugged on another thread so hard that it yanked out of your sweater sleeve and drifted to your lap, that was just another one of your delusions.

Dr. Kim’s words resonated throughout your mind on your commute home. They bore a weight on your mind as you slowly shuffled throughout the rest of your day, and they rang even stronger as you laid in bed.

When you closed your eyes, you felt yourself drifting off into the land of unconsciousness. You were running in a forest, clumps of dead grass, rotting leaves, and mud staining the soles of your feet, and your breath gusted out in sharp white puffs of air. The dew of the forest left a sheen on your skin as the wind brushing against your body chilled you to the bone. Underneath the whistle of the wind, you could hear the sound of something ticking.

Tick, tick, tick.

Something grabbed your ankle, sending you sprawling to the forest floor, and you threw a frantic glance at what had yanked you down. Tears built in your eyes and dripped down your cheeks. You were trying to push yourself off the floor to keep running, but the branches and roots of the trees of the forest broke out from the floor and wrapped tight around your trembling form, pinning your quaking body to the muddy ground.

You saw a glimpse of a hand and part of an arm extending itself from the forest floor, dirt crusted under the fingernails and staining the crevices of the palm. The forest floor opened up, dirt jaggedly fragmenting and cracking open, as the body behind the hand emerged. You watched, petrified from your spot to the floor. The head pushed out from the forest floor first, and your eyes made contact with the sunken eyes of your dead boyfriend. You were screaming now, your voice hoarse, but no sound coming out. The ticking sound grew louder and louder, and you were crying even harder.

He was so pale that the moonlight trickled through his almost translucent skin, a corpse that dragged itself to the land of the living, and his dark hair was matted to his forehead. There was a sticky glint to the side of his head where his hair looked more clumped. You forced yourself to tear your gaze away from it.

“Why…Why did you leave me behind?’’ his voice was like a haunting croak. You could speak now, and your voice pitched into a petrified scream.

“I didn’t mean to…! I didn’t mean to! You told me to run! You told me to run!’’ your voice broke out of your throat, and it grew and grew in an unruly crescendo. “I’m so sorry! I should’ve never left you behi-“

You drew in a sharp inhale that suffocated you, leaving the last words still on your lips as you woke up in your bed. The chill of the forest left you; you were in your bed again, the sheets and blanket messily wrapped around your body. You had been thrashing in your sleep, sending pillows down onto the floor. The room was still dark, just a few moments before dawn. You got up, the cold sweat on your body leaving you breathless, and you blindly reached down to grab your pillows and throw them back onto your bed. Instead of touching the slippery silk covers of your pillows, your fingers met something soft and cuddly.

Your fingers wrapped around a tiny, stuffed arm, and you pulled up what the item was.

A scream tore out of your lips as you threw away the item. It was the stuffed bunny your boyfriend had given you the night of your first anniversary, the last night you had seen your boyfriend before he had pushed you to keep running; this was the very item you had dropped in your run out of the forest. You had left it there.

Why, why was it here?

Your head was hurting, and you dropped the plush animal back onto the ground. You hadn’t noticed the faint blood stains. Its faux fur was too dark for you to make out the splashes of dried brown red.

No, no, what do you mean you left it there? You never went in a forest. Your boyfriend overdosed. They found his body. You weren’t there; you were at home working— You sagged against your bed as your head pounded in throbbing agony.

No, you were here. You were here, waiting for him. It was your first anniversary. He was late. He never came home. You had gotten angry and had called him several times. And then…And then, you got the phone call the next morning that they found his dead body. He killed himself. You forcibly repeated that until it was ingrained in your head, and your breathing slowed down.

The next time you woke up, the sun was blindingly warm against your face, but the nightmare had already left your body cold long before.

You were seated across from Dr. Kim again. The dark circles were even worse today, and you fought back a yawn as he clicked his pen and pressed the tip against the pristine white of his notepad. You watched through watery eyes as your name elegantly swirled out in ink on the notepad.

“I’ve been sleeping the most I’ve ever had in a while, so, uh…Hah, would that even qualify as a perk?’’ you smiled weakly,” And I can remember my nightmares now, though that in itself is exhausting me more than the nights before the remembering ever could.”

His pen stopped right at the second curve of your name. He raised an eyebrow, his demeanor still as composed as ever. He was listening. He was the only one who would listen to you now. Well, you suppose he was the only one who listened because you were paying him for each second of his time.

“That’s good to hear. Remembering your nightmares can help us continue to identify and potentially reduce the impact of your psychological stressor. Continue to talk about them. What do you see?’’

“Uh,’’ you yawned this time, your yawn so big that it cracked your jaw and filled your eyes with tears,’’ They’re a little vague.’’

“It’s okay. You’ve made progress.”

“Mmm…if you say so.’’ You scratched your wrist, your gaze on the skin,” Well…I’m in a forest. Super scary. I think it’s the one they found my boyfriend in. And I’m running. And, uh, a hand comes out and grabs my ankle, and I try to break free…but…but I can’t, the trees are coming and they’re wrapping so tight…I can’t breathe.”

Your words sped up, and you didn’t know you were choking on your own breath until you let out a strangled cough at the last word.

“Keep on going.”

“And I—,’’ you’re tearing up now, sobbing slightly as you force the next words out through ragged breaths,” I look over, and it’s him! It’s him! He’s there! He’s climbing out…and he’s asking me why. Why! I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know!’’

Your voice heightened in its pitch, and you were just a whisper below a full-on yell. Your shoulders shook, trembling as the tears spilled out and splashed against your cheeks and dripped down your chin, and you were curling further into yourself as you fought to inhale a deep breath. Dr. Kim was out of his chair, his hands stroking your shoulder gently, and he was soothing you. He was holding you now. You buried your head into the collar of his shirt, staining the cloth with tears and snot.

This wasn’t professional, but Dr. Kim made no move to get away, and you didn’t care that you were probably violating some doctor-patient code of conduct rule. It had been so long since someone held you and stroked your back so kindly.

When you finally broke away from the hug to look at Dr. Kim, Dr. Kim brushed the drying tears off of your cheek, his finger glistening with your tears. Your heart twisted painfully in your chest. This was wrong. Not only professionally, but your boyfriend…You couldn’t move on from him. But you couldn’t push away the only hand that was willing to dry your tears.

You somehow managed to look at him, your cheeks feeling hot, and you shakily whispered,” I’m…I’m sorry.”

Who were you apologizing to? Dr. Kim for having a mental breakdown, though his job in the very first place was to help you with mental breakdowns? Your dead boyfriend, who was rotting away 6 feet under for finding solace in another man? Or you, poor innocent you who had suffered so much?

He tenderly smiled at you, the warm look strange compared to his usual stony expression but oh so comforting.

“Don’t be sorry. It’s normal.” He cleared his throat, his expression turning cold again, and he was back in his leather chair.

Somehow, although the two of you had resumed as if was normal, you knew something had changed. Maybe it was when his arms were wrapped around your trembling form, his touch warming up your freezing body, or maybe it was the very moment you had sat down on the sofa across from him just a few minutes ago.

Or maybe, maybe something was different between the two of you all along.

You had the same nightmare again that very night. Well, it was not like it ever really changed, not when your psychological state of mind seemed to seek its purpose in rattling every single nerve in your poor body. But something seemed even more worse than usual in your dream.

The scent of mildew was the same, damply settling on the back of your tongue and in your throat, and you could smell something rotting underneath the sickly-sweet scent. However, that wasn’t what was off in your dream.

You weren’t running for the first time. No rapid breath escaped you; your chest rose and fell in even beats. That was your first indication that something was terribly wrong.

What a horrible irony bestowed upon you.

Your fears were confirmed when you heard something small and thin and sharp snap underfoot, and you turned slowly. Your mouth fell open in horror at the sight.

There was a skeleton, one with ivory bones that gleamed underneath the waxy moonlight, and something told you that that skeleton was your boyfriend. Your gaze darted to what made that terrible crackling sound: a foot clad in a leather shoe against the delicate bone wrist of your boyfriend’s postmortem state. Your eyes trailed up and up and up until they settled onto the face of the perpetrator.

“Dr. Kim?’’ the dream you, despite the roaring screams of your thoughts, smiled a coquettish one that stretched almost painfully on your face. You took steps forward, the mud staining your bare feet, and you felt bone snap and crackle and crumble underneath your weight as you got closer and closer, and Dr. Kim laughed as he swept you up in his arms and left a loving kiss on your lips.

“My beloved,’’ his hands trailed to your waist. You felt the bone underneath your feet turn into a mass of bloody flesh and bone. There was a streak of red carnage on Dr. Kim’s face that you hadn’t noticed before,” Oh, how I adore you.”

“Dr. Kim,’’ you whispered playfully into the side of his neck,” Dr. Kim, touch me.”

His fingertips brushed underneath your skirt, toying with the fabric of your panties, and you let out a breathy sigh of laughter as you opened your legs further. A squelch of flesh and blood underneath the soles of your feet accompanied your movement. As you looked up, your eyes tenderly swept his face and took in his features.

His handsome features, his strong jaw and his softly curved lips and the indents in his cheeks dappled underneath the romantic pale moonlight peeking through the trees, looked absolutely maniacal. His voice was amused, and it swathed the crisp air of the forest in a breathy husk that left you shivering in both pleasure and thrill.

“It’s what I’ve been waiting for all along, my beloved.”

You woke up with a start. Your pajamas were sticking to your body in a feverish sweat, and you pushed yourself up and off the bed. Your body was unused to the sudden movement, and your legs froze, sending you to a tumble to the floor.

“What the,” you stayed there on the floor, unable to move. Your breath was heightened and came out in shallow pants through your dry lips. “What the absolute fuck?’’

When you finally managed to get off the floor and onto shaky legs that trembled to hold your weight, your first action was to call the office and cancel your upcoming appointment with Dr. Kim. You didn’t mind the large fee that came from this cancellation; even the thought of seeing him after what had transpired between the two of you in both reality and the imaginary world left you disgusted with yourself. You could feel the aching throb in between your legs, a neediness still settled in your veins, and the wet spot you left on your pantie. Bile rose up in your throat as your mind engulfed in self-loathing.

You turned off your phone and threw it onto your bed. It bounced off and landed by your feet on the carpet. You swallowed a shriek of ragged frustration before getting up in quick desperate movements. The uncomfortable drag of the fabric of your panties seemed to remind you only more of your shame. You felt dirty.

You needed to be clean.

You stepped into the tub, turned on the faucet, and silently stood there as the shower sprayed cold water onto your still-clothed body. Inhaling a sharp breath, you closed your eyes again.

“I’m so sorry.”

Looking back, you wondered to yourself, what were you even sorry for? Wouldn’t it have been better to be sorry for yourself?

Perhaps it wouldn’t have ended the way it did if you had done that instead. But you’ll never know now. It was too late.

The echo of the clock ticking seemed to sound over the rush of cold water. Each click and swing brushed against the other, softly like the wind that brushed through the leaves and the branches and the trees and by the roots that bounded your feet to the dirt.

Tick tock. Tick tock.

You couldn’t keep cancelling your appointments.

Some part of you didn’t want to. You hated that part of you. But it was ingrained in you. Some part of you was addicted to Dr. Kim, addicted to the way he had tenderly held you, to the way his fingers had felt against the soft skin of your cheek as he wiped away acrid tears.

You were sitting across from him again. The soft, almost inaudible but painfully audible to you ticking of his wristwatch echoed in the silent room. There was no notepad in his hands again, nor rustling of paper forms between slender fingers to fill up the tension in the room; there was only his gaze rested on you. You couldn’t breathe.

You were yanking on the threads of your sweater again. The threads, loosened, snagged on your nails, and you dropped the soft material with a mental huff of displeasure. The setting of the sun outside of the window drowned the both of you in a peaceful warm orange hue…but you knew: there’s nothing peaceful going on. Not in your heart, not in the crevices of the office, not in the way Dr. Kim coolly smiled at you as if nothing was wrong…Nothing was peaceful.

“It’s been a while since I’ve last seen you.” If you thought too hard into it, you might have perceived his words as accusatory. But he was just your psychiatrist. There was no way he was going to cross the professional boundary between the two of you. The first time was already a mistake.

Or was it?

“How are you?’’ his words sent a thrill down your spine.

You looked at him through your lashes. You couldn’t seem to think properly when he was so near you. The smell of his cologne, musky and rich, settled in your throat.

“I’m,’’ you swallowed thickly before ducking your head back down,” I’m fine.’’

“Are you really?’’

Those words seemed to break you down.

“Yeah, I’m…I’m fine,’’ the heaviness of your voice gave the truth right away, and you were sobbing. The you of before, the you back in the past when you were better, had hated crying, but something about being in this office, with the air conditioning blasting heavily at the nape of your neck and the thought of Dr. Kim, Dr. Kim, Dr. Kim left you glued to the seat in tears.

You sucked in a shaky breath, fiercely wiping away tears with your sleeves until your skin stung; you didn’t even notice the tissue box that Dr. Kim picked up and placed by you. He was closer to you now, sitting next to you on the couch in his office, and you leaned in closer to him. You felt him stroke your hair, comforting. You melted into his warmth.

“I’m s-…sorry,’’ you stammered out,’’ It’s just…It’s just I’m feeling guilty.”

“Why do you feel guilty?’’ his voice, deeper than usual, brushed hotly against your ear, and you shivered. Was it the air-conditioning that chilled you to the bone, or was it something else?

Ironically, despite the icy feeling in your gut, you could feel the heat coming to your cheeks, and you swore there must’ve been some hint of a flush that gave away the rapid pit-pattering of your heart. The guilt swelled and crashed in your chest with every thump.

“I’m guilty because…because!’’ the words dried up in your throat, and you clenched your eyes shut as you forced them out through trembling lips,” I shouldn’t be viewing someone else like this.”

“Like what?’’

“In the way I viewed my boyfriend…I’m—,’’ you swallowed thickly.

“Who do you view this way?’’ The gentle stroking of your hair halted, and you peeked open your eyes. You couldn’t meet his gaze, though, and your eyes fell back down to your lap.

“Y-,’’ you sucked in a breath,’’ You, Dr. Kim.”

Tick, tick, tick.

The ticking of his stopwatch drew your attention, and you stared at it breathlessly as you waited for his reply.

He didn’t reply right away, and your heartbeat spiked painfully in your chest. You made a move to stand up, a torrid heat swelling up in your face as tears of embarrassment and guilt and shame pricked your eyes, and you pushed away from him.

“I-I should leave. I’ll cancel my appoint—,’’ your remaining words squeezed out in a surprised gasp as Dr. Kim’s hand encircled your wrist and pulled you to him.

His lips were against yours, the kiss bitingly rough, and you let out a surprised moan as you felt his hand cradle the back of your head and pull you closer to him. He sucked your breath right out of your lungs, and you meekly realized that you were drooling slightly out of the corner of your mouth as he probed his tongue through your lips and against the warm crevices of your mouth. He sucked on your tongue, and you made a soft startled mmph against his lips.

“Dr.—Dr. Kim!’’ you managed to place a trembling hand between the small gap between his chest and yours—you briefly admired the feeling of the muscles of his clothed chest against the palm of your hand—and pried your lips from his. Your eyes had watered in a wanton surprise; you looked like sin itself with the way you trembled and quaked and breathed shakily through swollen lips, a trail of saliva glinting on the corner of your mouth. “Dr. Kim, what—what are you doing?’’

“What do you think I’m doing?’’ his lips curved in an attractive teasing smile that caused shivers to roll down your spine,” Is it a sin to view you the same way you view me?’’

You sucked in a breath and opened your mouth. No further words of protest managed to come out.

Laughter, rough and hoarse, rumbled in his throat as he took off his jacket and loosened the tie around his white collared shirt. The setting sun cast shadows and made him look almost sinister. His voice was like a purr as he spoke.

“Then we’ll sin together. On your hands and knees.”

Some part of you trembled as you heard his voice. His voice was alluring, the way it wrapped around you and dragged you, limp and terrified, into a daze. You were flat on the palms of your hands and your knees before you knew it.

You felt his hands, cool and slightly rough, against the heated flesh of your exposed thighs, and they dragged up to your skirt and pushed it higher up around your waist, leaving only the exposed fabric of your soaked panties behind.

“Dr—Mmph!’’ you were about to question him, but the drag of his finger as it peeled away the flimsy string of your panties left you shivering in bliss. You made another move to question it; you tried your best. Your arms trembled, struggling to hold yourself up, as you felt his tongue drag against the outer folds of your pussy, and then he was devouring you.

His tongue brushed and stroked against your swollen clitoris, and you made a muffled moan through clenched teeth at the spine-tingling touch. And he was shoving his tongue deep into your walls; your walls shivered and quaked and trembled and tightened around his tongue, and you heard him grunt a muffled curse before you were coming.

Your toes curled, your eyes rolled back, and your arms collapsed, sending you careening into the plush arm of the sofa.

You tried to recover, but Dr. Kim didn’t let you recover. He pushed the fabric of your panties further down, and you made a muffled sound of protest as you felt something hot and hard against your sensitive pussy.

You were panting, breathless little whimpers leaving your lips. You were so sensitive; you couldn’t handle anymore. But he was already pushing his cock in.

“Dr. Kim, I’m so…,’’ you sobbed out, your hair a mess. You made a move to twist around, but he grabbed your wrists and, using the tie he had pulled out from around his neck, tied them together. You could only press your face, breathing out high-pitched gasps and moans, against the soft arm of the sofa as he pushed deeper and deeper into you.

The sensation was almost burning the way your walls stretched around his big cock. Oh god, he was bigger than your boyfriend, and you hadn’t fucked anyone since his death. You were tearing up, ready to open your mouth and tell him to stop it, when his cock finally was fully in. It felt like it was pressing against your womb with how deep it was. You made a choked cry.

“Dr. Kim…Dr.—Oh!’’ you keened in pleasure as he pulled out, his cock dragging against your gummy walls, and then pushed back in fully. He set an unforgivable pace, his hands firmly placed on your hips, and you swore you were getting fabric burns from the rough way the pace of his thrusts sent you crashing again and against into the sofa. Your tits bounced, and he grabbed one of them with a hand, stroking the clothed hard nipple with his finger. “Please…Please slow…Mmm! S-slow…slow down!’’

He didn’t slow down. If anything, it seemed like he sped up instead. You could feel your wrists getting red from the tie, but you didn’t care. You were getting so close to your next orgasm. You were already sensitive from the first orgasm, and Dr. Kim’s cock was dragging against your walls just right. You were so, so, so close.

“Dr. Kim!” you squealed out as your walls squeezed around his thrusting cock, and your eyes squeezed shut as you clenched hard down on him. He didn’t even pause, continuing to fuck you even through your orgasm. “Dr…Nngh! Dr. Kim…!’’

You were drooling again as he continued to pound into you, your sensitive pussy trembling fervently around him. You couldn’t think, not when his cock was rearranging your insides, and you could only shiver as he chased his own orgasm with your wet pussy.

He was pounding against your cervix, the sensation leaving little pricks in the nerves underneath your skin, and then you felt him twitch. You realized, with heightened panic, that he wasn’t wearing a condom and made a panicked move to stop him, but he was filling you with hot cum and your eyes were rolling back as you reached another orgasm. He pulled out, his cum staining the bare skin of your ass, and you felt his cum ooze out slightly from your walls.

You twitched, your ass still up and your arms sore from being pinned to your back. You couldn’t move. Not when your brain couldn’t even form coherent thoughts, and you were left spent.

“With the way you haven’t moved,’’ his voice lowered to a predatory tone,’’ Fuck, you make me so hard.”

He was hard again; you could feel it against your sensitive walls before he slammed back into you. You couldn’t even make a sound of protest, not when he had already fucked you thoroughly, before he was fucking you again. You heard the sound of his hips colliding into your ass, the sinful clap of skin together and the squelch of your juices around his invading cock and the rough drag of the fabric of his pants against your flushed skin. You were making panting noises, too tired to even moan. Your cheek rubbed against the sofa as he knocked against your quivering womb with each thrust.

His thrusts were as animalistic as the first time. He fucked you like he was stealing a part of his soul. He fucked you like he craved your existence. He fucked you as if you were his. And you took it, falling into the next orgasm and whimpering as he came again, quicker this time. He was filling you up, marking you from the inside out, and you… you could only moan as he did so.  

He pulled out this time, and you couldn’t even hold yourself up. Your thighs trembled, the inner skin of them coated in an obscene mixture of his cum and your juices, and you clumsily fell to the sofa. You were drifting off, your eyelids closing, and you were, for the first time in a long, dissolving in bliss.

He draped his coat over your sticky body, and you felt him stroke your hair again. His touch was gentle, so gentle. Your eyes drooped further shut.

“Did he fuck you like I did? Make you more like the whore you are?’’ his voice was low, but you could hear it. When it came to him, you could always hear him. But you were too tired. You wanted to sleep. Maybe if you slept by him, the nightmares wouldn’t come.

He chuckled at your lack of response, smoothing the strands of your hair down, and you heard the faint sound of his ticking watch. If you looked closely, through half-lidded eyes, you could make out small scratches and a single crack on the watch’s glass.

“Good night, my beloved.” His voice was like a hum. You…you remembered that. You knew that voice long before you ever sat in front of Dr. Kim. Some part of you screamed, but that part was weaker, blurred by the calming strokes of his hand over your hair and the sweet daze of sleep that kissed your eyelids shut.

You were dreaming again. It was a nightmare. You were in the woods again, the wind in your hair, and you were laughing at a joke your boyfriend said. He gave you the stuffed animal, pretty and soft and comforting, and you were giggling in delight as you hugged it to your chest.

“Babe, I love—,’’ the words died in your throat as a gunshot cracked through the crisp forest night. You were screaming now, the previous words of your love confession dying in your chest as ragged yells dragged out of your throat. He fell down, fearful-stained eyes growing glassy, and you felt a splatter of blood against your hands that stained the stuffed animal you were cradling. You were sobbing, your hands trembling as you reached out to try to touch his paling face. His lips shivered as they made one final desperate yell.

“Run!’’

You turned on your heels and made a run for it. You broke through trees and branches whipped at your fast as you ran and ran and…A hand grabbed your hair and slammed you against the tree so hard you were left winded, and you were screaming madly in grief and fear and outright hysteria as you lashed out.

“Why are you after us? Why us? Why did you kill him? Why did you kill him? WHY DID YOU KILL HIM?’’

Your fingers snagged a watch, leaving scratches on the wrist of the perpetrator, and you yanked it off the wrist in the midst of your struggle. You kicked out, frantic and desperate, and the moonlight of the night hit the perpetrator.

Dr. Kim’s face glowed underneath the waning light, his handsome features twisted in a mad glee as you thrashed and thrashed, and he was laughing through a choked breath even when your foot crashed into his rib and sent him sprawling to the forest floor.

You didn’t even wait to turn on your heel, and you were running again.

“Good night, my beloved.’’

You heard him laughing in the distance after he spoke, the sound rough and coarse and haunting, and there was that ticking again resonating from his watch still drowning in the forest floor’s mixture of mud and branches and rotting leaves.

Tick, tick, tick.

You saw the edge of the forest, the blinding light of the lamppost flickering in the distance, and your foot caught on a root protruding from the dark ground. You crashed into the ground.

You fought to get up, but the mud was soft underneath your thrashing body, and you were sinking into it. It swallowed your feet and your hands first, and you were sobbing in hysteria as it began to swallow up until your neck, and you were choking on mud as you drowned in it.

Flashes of Dr. Kim’s face flickered through your mind. His cold face, the warmth in his eyes as he wiped off your tears, the hunger in his expression as he devoured your lips, and…and his face twisted like a maniac as he dragged you against the forest tree and mockingly laughed at your struggle. He was going to finish you next, he was going to love you, he was going to break you, he was going to hold you, and he was…he was obsessed with you.

The mud filled your lungs, and you stopped coughing, stopped trying, stopped fighting. Your lips twisted in a content smile as you closed your eyes and went limp.

A/N: Leave a comment/review if you enjoyed the fic (or tell me if I made a mistake anywhere. Always a bit nerve-wracking copy and pasting from the word document I use to write). Sending my love to all of you for your support, as always!

#yandere namjoon #namjoon x reader #yandere #yandere bts #bts smut #yandere lemon #yandere smut #bts fic #bts x reader #namjoon smut #yandere writing #yandere x reader #bts namjoon #yandere fic #bts thriller au #bts reader insert #bts fanfiction #kim namjoon #yandere male #bts scenarios

[emwritesstuff]

as the world caves in | ch. 7 | bucky barnes x reader

synopsis: You are a ghost story. A former Air Force pilot who had her plane shot down by Germany in 1945, but here you were in 2023, alive and frozen in your 25-year-old body.

You haven’t seen Bucky since the 1940’s, before his fall, before you went on a suicide mission only to come back alive. You aren’t sure reliving those memories – and being a living memory of everything the man has lost – is the best for him.

But you and Bucky won’t be apart for long.  

This will loosely follow the plot of TFATWS - so spoilers ahead, specially regarding episode five. Thread carefully!

masterlist | AO3

notes: i got wordy with this one, lol. But there IS fluff and revelations in there somewhere

(warnings: mentions of death, blood, injuries, weapons) (word count: 5K)

seven: timing

You’ve seen death before. It’s inevitable, when you’ve lived an entire century.

You’ve died before, when half of the universe did too, crumbling into dust and fading into thin air. You’ve seen it during the war, during missions, you’ve done it. Yet, you might never get used to it, not like this.

A shield is objectively a protector in nature. Captain America’s shield, once the symbol of salvation, had been tarnished with blood.

Bucky and Sam looked at you when you turned back to them, after watching John Walker ran off from the square. Their silent conversation from seconds before communicated to you through a look.

Walker couldn’t carry the shield. Not anymore.

“We have to take it back.” Sam said, and you and Bucky nodded at the same time.

“He has to have gotten his hands on the serum somehow. He’s too strong.” You made your way through the crowd hastily, having to shove people out of the way, everyone still in slow motion due to shock.

“That means it won’t be easy.” Bucky added as the streets had gotten empty enough for you to start running freely.

“It never is, is it?”

Sam led the way on air while you and Bucky ran, following his coordinates. A fine rain fell over Riga, and it did good of seeping through your hair and clothes, though you didn’t register the cold in the moment. The warehouse you ended up in was empty except for industrial lifts, the lot abandoned and overgrown. A good enough hiding place.

John Walker marched over to you somewhat casually, and your eyes met Bucky’s as Sam stroke up conversation.

“What? You saw what happened. You know what I had to do. I killed him because I had to!” You held yourself from flinching when he raised his voice. “He killed Lemar!”

“He didn’t kill Lemar, John.” Bucky said calmly. “Don’t go down that road. Believe me, it doesn’t end well.”

Your fingers brushed Bucky’s metal ones lightly, them twitching in response.

“I’m not like you.”

That much was right. Sam stepped forward to try and reason with him, you and Bucky staying behind.

“Bucky—” You whispered, urging him to look at you.

He offered you a small strained smile. “I know.”

“Okay. Good.” This time you linked your hands fully, icy skin on Vibranium. You squeezed for a second and let go, forgetting that it probably wasn’t bringing him the comfort you intended. You hoped the message got across, at least.

“We don’t want anyone else to get hurt.” Sam’s voice drew your attention back to Walker and the imminent conflict. “John… You gotta give me the shield, man.”

Walker looked up at you three, a smirk gaining on his face. “Oh, so that’s what this is. You almost got me.”

“You made a mistake.”

“Don’t make another.” You said, your brows furrowing.

“You don’t wanna do this.”

“Yeah, we do.”

When Bucky said that he, you and Sam advanced into Walker, surrounding him as he swung the shield in every direction.

He lunged at Sam, sending him to ground. You were smaller, but that got you to land punches at his side and ribs, which he blocked a few of. You wondered how much more he could take, one against three.

A kick to your abdomen launched you back. He was terrifyingly strong, and you think that this serum had to be the most advanced yet. On top of that, he was completely deranged.

You helped Sam up while Bucky kept Walker occupied, then using the fact that Walker had him pinned against a lift you ran behind him and landed a knee to his spine.

“Why are you making me do this!” Walker flung Bucky first, and your eyes widened in horror when he crashed violently into a metal pillar. You were second, the shield hitting your head and flinging you towards the same direction as Bucky, your body sliding on the concrete floor.

Spots swam before your eyes. You blinked once, twice, trying to get them to focus again. You felt warmth on the side of your head. Blood.

Bucky was still limp on the ground, his metal arm sparking and twitching wildly. Your breath hitched in your throat and your eyes started to fill with water and fear.

“Bucky? Buck—oh my god, Bucky, come on,” Still dazed, you held his face in your hands, watching it twitch along with his arm.

You looked up to Sam altercating with Walker and Bucky stirred in your grasp.

“Y/N.”

A relieved sigh escaped your lips, along with a couple of hot tears that Bucky caught with his flesh hand. “Y/N, the shield—”

Looking up again, you saw what Bucky meant. The shield, seemingly forgotten as Sam and John Walker scuffled on the ground. You ran to it, swaying slightly, and stomped on the edge so it would go up into your arm.

As Walker ripped Sam’s wings out you flung the shield at his back, it flying back to your arm like a boomerang. You had his attention. He ran at you, nearly howling, and you stopped his lunges using the shield.

“You. You’re strong. You’re a super soldier too.”

“I have been… since 1945.” You panted, trying to catch your breath. Walker frowned at you.

You went at him again, not giving him time to process the new information. He grabbed the shield, trying to wrestle it out of your arm. Bucky tackled him before you could crumble, but as they stumbled down and away from you so did the shield, John Walker’s hands still gripping is viciously.

Somehow, he managed to have it strapped to his arm again, hitting Bucky with it as they threw punches.

You and Sam reached them at the same time, one to each side of Walker, taking him off of Bucky. Sam moved to remove the shield from Walker as you and Bucky pinned him.

There was a crack.

Sam took the shield off, rolling away with it, and you let go of Walker when you felt he stopped resisting due to the pain. Bucky spat red, and you cleaned the blood off your face with your sleeve.

Your head was throbbing, and you felt your balance wavering once again.

“It’s mine.”

“It’s over John.”

You tried jogging to Sam’s side, but all you did was limp the quickest you could. Suddenly, your knee was in fiery pain again. You would probably need a new replacement soon.

“It’s mine!” Walker moved on Bucky who was closest. You took a step toward them, but Sam put a hand on your shoulder to stop you.

“He’s got it.”

You turned to him, wondering if you really looked that much in bad shape.

Bucky really did get him, tackling Walker and hurling his body against Sam and the shield. The three of them fell to the ground.

It was over. You finally let your knees buckle, wincing once they hit the floor.

You closed your eyes for a brief second, spots swimming in your vision, and once you opened them again the men were still heaving on the ground. Bucky was the first to get up, picking up the shield and dumping it next to Sam.

He walked over to you, offering his hand. You took it gladly and let him hoist you up. His deeply concerned expression was the same as yours.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Buck.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Let’s go clean up, sugar.”

--

A shower and your clean civilian clothes got you feeling good as new.

You ended up going back to Zemo’s place, Bucky making you answer too many pointless questions as the both of you tended to your injuries, even though you had assured him you did not have a concussion.

“How’s your knee?”

“Could be better. It’ll be fine, though. I just hope we don’t have to fight Walker or anyone again in the next few days.” You shrugged, pressing an antiseptic tissue to Bucky’s nose. He hissed. “Don’t be a baby.”

You chuckled when he glared at you, slumping his shoulders.

His jaw tensed. “We wouldn’t have fought if Sam—”

“Bucky, don’t start this again—”

“— hadn’t given up the shield!”

“James, none of what happened was his fault. Did you even try to understand his side of things?”

You threw the tissue in the bin and checked your phone. Sam had replied, confirming that he was okay, and that he had managed to find a ride home with a friend. You and Bucky weren’t going just yet, since you still had to find Zemo and give him to the Dora Milaje.

You sighed. “The shield is just an oversized Vibranium frisbee. It’s nothing without the right person behind it.”

Bucky shook his head. “Why are you defending him?”

“Because you aren’t. You should be the first to take Sam’s side.”

“He gave it away like it was nothing. This Vibranium frisbee it’s all we have left of Steve, Y/N!”

“Not it’s not. We have an entire life worth of Steve, Bucky. The shield is just… an object.”

“If Sam was Captain America, Walker wouldn’t even have been nominated.” He grumbled.

You sat beside Bucky and took his metal hand in yours, tracing the golden seams on his palm. He sighed, and you knew he was close to resigning.

“The government didn’t even consider Sam before nominating Walker. Hell, they didn’t even talk to him.” You pursed your lips, feeling Bucky’s eyes on you.

“How can he be Captain America if America’s gonna treat him like that? And it wasn’t a one-time thing, either. So, I get it. I don’t like how things turned out. But I get it.”

Bucky looked at the floor. “Yeah. I want to understand. I’m—I’m trying.”

You beamed at him. It had taken you a while to understand too, and you still struggled sometimes. But you were proud of Bucky, for at least being open to listen.

--

You met Sam the next morning at the displacement camp. Or, at least, where it had been. Sam explained that the GRC was conducting raids in search for Karli, arresting people and closing their lodgings, but without much success.

“They searched this camp and just like the last camp, nothing.”

“Well, she’ll be laying extra low after…everything.” You frowned at Sam’s old gear, wings now a broken mess of carbon fiber and wires.

“She’s gone. We’ll never find her.” Sam’s voice was grave and littered with anxiety.

“We will. She’ll move again. She won’t just stop.”

You looked at Sam and he shook his head. From the other side of the room, Bucky sighed.

“Hey, you uh, you got your sleeve back.” A new voice piped in, and you recognized its owner as the soldier from the hangar the other day. “Oh, it’s you—hi, I’m Torres. Joaquin Torres.”

The boy had a nice, gentle smile. No wonder he and Sam were friends.

“Y/N.” You smiled back at him and shook the hand he extended to you.

Bucky headed to the door without a word.

“Are you off to take care of Zemo?”

You nodded at Sam and gave him a quick hug. “He can’t be running around causing trouble, can he now? Take care, Sam.”

“You too.”

“Alright, good to know you survived.” Torres said at Bucky’s back as he disappeared through the door.

Sam smiled down at you and you let yourself be content with that for now. You still had Zemo to worry about, so you rushed to catch up with Bucky.

“So, I’m thinking we should go to—”

“I have intel he might be in Sokovia.” Bucky shot you a confused look that made you shrug. “You forget I was a spy for more than 40 years, Buck.”

You smirked a little. Retired, sure. But that kind of thing was like riding a bike, and you knew better than to drop all of your hard-earned contacts.

“Did you contact Ayo too?”

You shook your head, and started leading Bucky to the hangar where your plane was waiting. “No, I figured you might wanna do that.”

It was another good fifteen minutes of walking before you arrived, and there it was. Your baby. An Eclipse 500, a pretty little thing with a red stripe and caramel leather seats.

Bucky whistled. “When you said you flew in…”

“I flew in.”

You smiled brightly at Bucky once you were on air, and it was safe to hit the autopilot. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

Bucky chuckled, looking at you. “Yeah.” His smile widened as he turned to watch the nose of the jet cutting the clouds.

Your chest ached with something unwelcome. Oh no. Not this, and not again. You wished for the feeling to go away, so you could just love him as your best friend, as a brother – but your heart wasn’t keen on listening.

“Sometimes it’s hard to remember you’re not that tiny, spunky girl who picked too many fights.”

“Well, that little girl is still in here somewhere. Except now I could say I have a bigger chance of winning those fights.”

Bucky smiled. “You always had a mean right hook.”

He was looking at you in some sort of way you couldn’t exactly determine and you decided not to think too much about it. You couldn’t.

“And now, what? You work for the UN, you have an airplane—you still live in New York, right?”

That was the moment when, after all that you’ve been through the past days, you realized that you and Bucky haven’t had a chance to actually catch up with each other. Everything had been a blur of conflict and stress, and although you knew most of what had been going on in Bucky’s life through Steve, Bucky knew virtually nothing about yours.

“I do, actually—do you remember those rowhouses in Columbia Heights?”

Bucky knitted his eyebrows. “The ones with the… sculpted flowers on the doorway?”

“Yeah. I bought one of them in the 60’s.” You grinned.

“We used to say that we’d live there, remember? Make it big, you, me and Steve.”

You nodded. It was one of the silly things you held on to – your dreamhouse, back when you had no idea that either Bucky or Steve were still alive. Back then, your house made you feel like you had fulfilled some sort of promise. The iron fences and the flowerbeds made you feel less alone in the world.

And then Steve came back. And then Bucky. And now Bucky was back in your life, and Steve was gone. Your eyes watered every time you thought of him.

“I remember, yeah. Gosh, I miss him.” You wiped the corner of your eye.

Bucky nodded, his eyes downcast. “I do too. I guess—guess that’s why I was so hung up on Sam giving up the shield. But you were right.”

“Oh? That’s new.”

“Shut up.” Bucky chuckled. “I’ve been thinking… and I still don’t fully understand. But Sam deserves at least an apology.”

You gave Bucky one last look before turning off the autopilot. What he was saying – that he was willing to understand Sam’s choices, and apologize – made your heart swell.

“Oh my, pigs might fly today!” When Bucky let out a tired exhale, you giggled. “I’m proud of you, Bucky. Really.”

He watched you for a long time while you brought the jet down to Sokovian grounds.

Bucky had gone off to change into new clothes before the two of you headed to find Zemo at the memorial. At least, that’s where he had been seen most recently. You had stayed to speak to the manager of the small airport you had landed in, the jet needed to be fueled and stationed somewhere before you headed back to the US.

“Alright, they’ll take care of her until we—”

You rounded the nose of your jet and faced with Bucky in a well-tailored black coat, his hair was styled and he’d shaven too, now only a faint stubble darkening his jawline. He cleaned up well, to say the least. Your heart skipped a couple of beats.

“—why, don’t you look dapper.”

Bucky smiled. “Have you seen Zemo in that coat of his?”

You laughed. “Alright, hold on a minute now.”

When you returned to him, you wore heeled ankle boots, a dark skirt and a silk blouse, all over your trench coat. Bucky’s Adam’s apple bobbled up and down as he took you in and you twirled, smiling sheepishly.

He offered you an arm.

“Come on, sugar.”

Sokovia was barren land now, most of the old city had gone up in the air, leaving a round crater in its place. There had been some rebuilding efforts, but everything was still quiet and empty. The memorial was right at the center, and as you and Bucky approached you saw him.

Zemo stood with his back to you, in that familiar overcoat, reading the inscriptions on the marble. You wondered if he had been waiting.

Bucky stopped walking, turning to you. “Ayo’s already here. She and the Dora will be waiting for my signal.” He took your hand. “Wanna come with me?”

“Do you need me?”

“I… should probably do this alone.”

You patted his hand with your free one before letting go. You drew a heavy breath when Bucky took out a pistol, then smiled when he emptied the bullets on his metal palm.

He raised his irises at you, a small frown making its way on his brow. “You said you were proud of me?”

You gave him a reassuring nod. “Always. I’ll be here.”

All you could do was watch now that Bucky was making the rest of the way to Zemo. If the Dora were watching somewhere, Bucky was probably safe, but you couldn’t keep your chest from constricting in apprehension as you watched him and Zemo interact.

Bucky raised the gun with his flesh hand, and with the other he dropped the bullets on the ground. That was the signal. The Dora Milaje came from behind Zemo, and Bucky looked over at you.

When they start walking off, leaving Bucky and Ayo behind, you approached.

“We will take him to the Raft, where he will live out his days.” Ayo said, greeting you with her dark eyes as you took place at Bucky’s side. “It would be prudent to make yourself scarce in Wakanda for the time being, White Wolf.”

“Fair enough.”

“And I hope to see you soon, Y/N.”

You and Ayo smiled at each other. “Same to you.”

Bucky gaped at you, and you had to stifle a laugh.

“Hey!” He called Ayo again. “I may have another favor to ask of you.”

You looked at him quizzically, and he smirked before closing the distance between him and the Dora Milaje, discussing something before walking back to you.

“It will be waiting for you once you get there.” She announced, and turned away. You raised an eyebrow.

“What is it?”

“Something for Sam.” Bucky said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You couldn’t help but lean into his warmth, and pulled him a little closer.

“How mysterious. Are we paying the Wilsons a visit, then?”

--

Delacroix was a close-knit community just south of New Orleans. It was sunny the day you and Bucky arrived, so much so that you’re able to ditch the heavy coats– you, at least, because Bucky had run back to get his jacket.

You didn’t mind much, that arm was a dead giveaway, and what truly mattered was him being comfortable – but you smiled once you noticed he didn’t have his gloves on.

You let Bucky go ahead and give Sam the favor he had asked of Wakanda by himself, despite his pleads for moral support. You figured it was a peace offering, and that being the case Bucky should deliver it himself.

When you finally approached them, greeting probably Sam’s sister Sarah with a smile, Bucky was busy tightening a pipe.

“Why didn’t you use the metal arm?”

“Well, I—I don’t always think of it immediately.”

“He’s right handed.” You quipped from behind them. Sam turned to you in surprise.

“Hey! I was wondering if I would have to deal with his grumpy ass without you.” He wrapped you in a hug and you laughed against his arm.

You smiled when Bucky rolled his eyes. “He’s actually in a good mood today.”

Bucky cleared his throat.

“So this is the boat, huh?”

“This is it.”

“It’s nice.” Bucky was looking around, rocking in his heels. “Want any help?”

Sam raised an eyebrow at you, and you simply shrugged.

“He was pretty handy in our time.”

Sam studied Bucky for a good two minutes in complete silence. Then, he relented, nodding and walking to the front of the boat.

Bucky stayed behind, looking up at Sam’s sister. “I’m Bucky.”

“Ah. Sarah.”

You raised your eyebrows once you realized just what he was doing. The sly dog. 106 years and he was still the biggest flirt to ever walk the earth.

You rushed to ignore the slight pang of jealously that hit you. You were debating following them when Sarah extended a hand to you.

“You must be Y/N. Thank you for offering the safehouse to us.”

You shook her hand, thinking that you couldn’t really blame Bucky for flirting – she was really pretty. Hell, maybe you should be flirting too.

“It was the least I could do.” You smiled.

“Does he… do that often?” She asked, looking in the direction Bucky had disappeared to.

You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve heard that, from hopeful girls who wished for more than just a date and a dance with Bucky. But you weren’t in the 1940’s anymore, though, and you had a feeling that flirting wasn’t really something he did often now.

“I’ll guess, no?” You shrugged, and she shook her head. “Serious!”

“Okay, okay. You go, I won’t keep you anymore.” Sarah nudged you with her shoulder. “Nice to finally meet you, Y/N!” She said, walking away and waving.

“You too, Sarah!” You waved back.

Sam was inside the wheelhouse when you found him. He was fiddling with a bunch of wires that looked more like a plate of noodles than something that was supposed to power a machine.

“And what’s going on here?”

He huffed. “I can’t get the panel to turn back on. Are you any good at this?”

“Technically I only know my way around flying things. But I can try.” You waved your hand and he stepped to the side, allowing you to start sorting out through the wires and try to see what could be connecting to what.

“You know, I think I like staring Bucky better than flirting Bucky.” Sam said in a serious tone, and you smirked.

“What a protective brother, you.”

“No, no—I’m a protective friend too. You made a face when Bucky started being all flirty with my sister.”

You furrowed your brows, looking at him. “No I didn’t.”

“Uh, yes you did.”

“Did not—” You sighed. “We’re just friends, Sam. Always have been. And that’s what we’ll continue to be.”

You connected a couple of wires and the panel flickered.

“Look. Even before I knew you two were a pair of old relics from the last century, I had a feeling you two would be good for each other.” Sam looked out of the window as Bucky walked by it, busy with scraping the paint off some wooden bitts. “And I am a great wingman.”

He winked at you, proud of his own pun, and you rolled your eyes.

“We are good for each other. Good friends. Best friends, if I may be so bold.”

The panel flickered again, then went out again. You groaned. You were so sure that would get it to work.

“It’s no use. Thing’s busted.”

“If I get it to power on, will you drop the cupid thing?” You stared at Sam with raised eyebrows, a challenge lingering in your eyes. He narrowed his, then turned to the panel.

“Deal.”

You tried again, this time joining a different set of wires, and the panel lit up. And stayed.

You smirked. “All done!”

“No no no, no— you set me up! Deal’s off! You tricked me!”

“No dealing off! You’re welcome!”

You laughed, exiting the wheelhouse and stepping into the warm sunshine. You spent the rest of your afternoon like this – helping Sam fix the boat, looking at the engine but still not getting it to work, scraping off paint and laughing at Sam and Bucky’s antics.

The sun had started to set when Sam called in for a break, offering you and Bucky a beer and a breather.

“What’s in the case?”

You raised your shoulders, just as in the dark about it as Sam was. “Dunno. It’s your gift, you’ll find out when you open it.”

“Well… gonna catch my flight tomorrow.” Bucky started, getting up and taking the last swig of his beer. “Get a hotel room for the night. Crash, you know?”

You knitted your eyebrows. Sam began chuckling.  “So you’re just gonna set me up like that, huh?”

“I don’t wanna make it weird for your family.”

You hid your face in your hands. So smooth, Bucky.

“Just stay here. The people in this town are the most welcoming people in the world. They don’t care if you wear small t-shirts or if you have six toes or if your mom’s your aunt.”

Sam trailed off, but Bucky chuckled, raising a hand to stop him. “Okay, I get it. I mean, you know, the people are nice.”

Sam started laughing and stopped himself quickly. “But don’t flirt with my sister. ‘Cause if you do I’ll have Carlos cut you up and feed you to the fish.” He deadpanned.

You snorted. Sam elbowed you in the ribs.

“Okay.”

“Alright boys, I should get going, though. I can fly myself out still tonight.”

“Ah ah—no, he’s not staying here if you aren’t. C’mon, Y/N.”

The two looked at you expectantly. You sighed.

“Fine. But I am leaving first thing in the morning. The GRC vote is soon, and I have not been benched.”

On the contrary, actually. You knew the bubble was about to burst and so did the government. They needed all the help they could get to keep things running well, with so many international representatives coming over to New York for the vote.

--

Sam’s family home was a cozy three-bedroom facing the water and surrounded by green. It was homey, and the minute you stepped inside you felt at ease.

It was a Wilson thing, really. The house only reflected it.

You and Sarah had hit it off quite well, becoming quick friends after bonding over being completely done with Sam and Bucky’s incessant banter. They even had a staring contest, like the children they were.

“So, Bucky doesn’t flirt often… because you are into each other.” She said playfully as you cleaned the dishes from the dinner.

Your jaw slacked. “What—he’s not. Sarah! We’ve been friends for so long, that’s all.”

“Oh, come on, I see the way he looks at you. And you look at him. Also, Sam told me—”

“Sam was supposed to drop that! I can’t believe he told you.” Actually, you could. You set a couple of glasses on the dish rack, groaning.

“Hey, he told me not to tell you! But I did anyways.”

You narrowed your eyes at her. “Enjoying the double agent life, huh?”

She laughed, and you went along with her.  

“I just think you should tell him how you feel. Before Samuel tries to parent-trap you.”

You knew Sarah was probably right – You should know better than not telling him before it was actually too late. You should, and yet the words die in your throat every time you looked at him.

You were in love with Bucky Barnes again. There was no going around it, but as it turned out, you were a coward. You were a coward, because you needed him to know. He deserved to know too – but you didn’t want to scare him off. Not now, that things were finally good. You’ve come all this way, and you promised him you wouldn’t leave.

This longing – this love – was only going to be a huge problem.

“I can’t. I don’t want to mess things up.”

She sighed at you and turned around to put the dishes away. “So you do have feelings for him.”

You looked at her, your eyes wide. She smiled big.

“Maybe you should date him.” You raised your eyebrows and crinkled your nose as she turned back to you, hands on her hips.

“Ah—no, don’t drag me into this.” She swatted you with a dishcloth when you raised your hands in defeat. “Let’s find you a place to sleep, girl.”

After much insistence on your part, Sarah agreed to let you sleep on the couch instead of Sam’s bed. You didn’t want to strip them off their comforts, so you settled on the couch, and Bucky took a mattress and placed it next to you on the floor.

The setup is familiar. You’ve slept like this before, you on either the bed or the couch and Bucky on the floor. Only thing left was Steve, your third piece. You’ve been trying not to spend all of your time missing him, but quiet nights were especially hard.

You tossed and turned for a while until Bucky reached for your hand, another of those old habits that had been resurfacing ever since you two started spending time together. With your hand secure in his, you drive the grief away and let sleep take you.

--

You woke up with the sounds of two kids making their own fighting sound effects. The smaller had the shield on his arm. Maybe it wasn’t just metal, after all. Maybe it could be more.

Bucky watched them from his makeshift bed, a grin on his face. “Hey.”

You giggled as the boys hurried to put the shield back in its case and ran back further into the house, startled by Bucky’s voice. “They’re so sweet.”

“You ever wanted them? Kids, I mean.”

You’re caught by surprise by Bucky’s question. Taking a deep breath, you processed it, trying to find a good way to answer it.

“I did – still do, I guess. It was never the right time. Or the right person.”

You closed your eyes, thinking that your person was laying right under you, on a mattress on the floor.

Strange thing, timing – you were born in 1918, and spent most of your life believing that your time with Bucky had come and gone. Now you both were more than one hundred years old, living way past your time frame – perhaps completely different people than what you used to be, but together again nonetheless.

Timing wasn’t right then – you wondered if timing could be right now.

Opening your eyes, you glanced at the clock on the wall. It was early, still barely 6.

“I have to go.”

Bucky was sat up, looking at you with a little frown. “No breakfast?”

“Well, I don’t want to abuse Sarah’s welcome. I’ll get it on the way.”

Bucky got up with you, his eyes following you as you gathered your things and he folded the blankets you two used during the night. He followed you to the door, then out to the front lawn, then to the start of the road right at the edge of the property.

“Don’t forget to have that talk with Sam, okay?”

“Yeah. I won’t.” He looked back at the house, and then at you. “I’ll see ya’ back at the city?”

You hummed. “You know where to find me.”

Bucky pulled you in, kissing your head, and you hugged him back tightly. His heartbeat was strong and steady.

“Take care, sugar.”

“You too, Buck.”

You turned back twice as you were walking away, finding Bucky on the same spot the first time and making his way back to the house on the second. Your eyes met both times, and you had to keep yourself from running back.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader

[onceupona-chaos]

Elain's trauma + (another) lightsinger theory

(This theory is about Elain)

This post was supposed to be just about Elain's trauma, but I decided to use it to share with you one of my theories. So, buckled up, because this will be long!

Warning: This post will be a little about Elriel, but my focus is Elain. If that's not your cup of tea, be warned! Also, as usual, English is not my first language, so forgive for any mistakes. Be kind always!!

So... since I was reading ACOSF for the very first time I noticed how many times Elain's trauma was brought up, especially that time when the Cauldron kidnapped her. I strongly believe that we have enough textual evidence that points to the next book being about her, so I want to talk a little about that trauma and then share my theorie.

Childhood

I'm not going to talk much about it because there is this incredible post right here where the author did an amazing job. But I’ll briefly talk about it just to make sense.

If Nesta was raised to use her "maneuverings", her talents, her dance, Elain was not raised in the same way (not that was good for Nesta, I'm not saying that).

Elain was raised to look pretty, to please others, to not speak up, to get marry using her pretty face, to be a proper lady: a perfect doll.

So she acted like one.

It simply never occurred to her that she might be capable of getting her hands dirty.

Elain would put on a hat and gloves and kneel in the dirt, weeding. She acted like a purebred lady in every regard but that.

Her mother raised her like that until she was at least eleven years old. This is enough time for her to internalize how she should behave.

This is what SJM is trying to tell about Elain:

"I wonder if everyone has spent so long assuming Elain is sweet and innocent that she felt she had to be that way or else she'd disappoint you all"

(Again, check this post for more details, this is just a scratch in comparison)

How this childhood reflects on Elain

Strength:

So, Elain was raised to be passive.

I'm not trying to justify her neglect towards Feyre. Elain has flaws just like any other character. But there's a reason why Feyre and Nesta was filled with rage when they lived in the cottage, and Elain look at it in a different way:

"A shelter from a world that had possessed so little good, but she tried to find it anyway, even if it had seemed foolish and useless to me. She had looked at it that cottage with hope; I had looked at it with nothing but hatred. And I knew which one of us had been stronger."

Since Elain was raised to be passive, her strength is different from her sisters. Her strength comes from her heart, from her kindness. But mostly from her hope. The book tell us that:

"Elain had always been gentle and sweet—and I had considered it a different sort of strength. A better strength. To look at the hardness of the world and choose, over and over, to love, to be kind."

My point is: her strength is different, not weaker. She is a different type of character, one that a lot of women relate to. Her strength isn't brutal. Her strength is hope. In her book, she will look at an indescribable horrible situation that seems to have no way out and will choose not to despair.

Beauty

She ignored me, and saw Elain as barely more than a doll to dress up, but Nesta was hers.

Elain's mother saw her for her beauty and only that. Now look at this:

Elain had gone from lovely to devastatingly beautiful. Elain never seemed to realize it.

She was several years older, and I’d never done anything to provoke her hatred, but I think …”

“She was jealous of your beauty,” Amren said, an amused smile on her red lips.

Elain blushed. “Perhaps.”

In my opinion, Elain has been seen as beautiful and only beautiful her entire life. It's not that she doesn't realize it, but she doesn't want to be reduced to that.

“Pity you didn’t bring the other sister. I hear our little brother’s mate is quite the beauty"

"They say your sister Elain is the beauty."

"They." Elain's beauty is known across Prythian, Eris said that twice in the series. She is so beautiful, that it seems like this is the first thing everyone will say about her.

That's why she wishes to be seen:

"No one ever looked ���not really.” A bramble of words. Her voice strained to a whisper. “He did. He saw me. He will not now."

She is described as the most beautiful among the sisters, and one of them is High Lady. So everyone looks at her. However, she wants more than that.

For her, it's vital to be seen.

She wants someone who loves her for who she is. That's why she hoped Graysen would still love her even after she turned Fae.

Trauma

Now that we understand what it means for Elain to be seen, to be loved, can we please stop reducing her trauma to a breakup?

She was: kidnapped from her bed, throw into the Cauldron (we saw what a nice experience that is), changed into something she feared, exposed to all the guards laugh at her and mated to a male who conspired to all of that happen.

Not only that: for months she was lost in her own visions. She didn't even know what was reality anymore:

“I think I was dreaming,” she murmured. “I think I’m always dreaming these days.”

"I hear her—her screaming. With rage. Utter rage…” She shuddered.

And when she was able to understand what she was, a Seer, and "wake up" from whatever "murky realm" she had been, the Wall came down. Which means she faced the Graysen.

Elain genuinely hoped he would love her for who she was despite being Fae. She looked at that situation with the same hope she used to look at the cottage. And how that turned out:

“You belong to him.”

“I belong to no one. But my heart belongs to you.”

Graysen’s face hardened. “I don’t want it.”

He would have been better off hitting her, that’s how deep the hurt in her eyes went.

And then she was kidnapped.

Elain is captured by the Cauldron

SJM used ACOSF to remind us of events that are going to be relevant for the next books and Elain's trauma was repeatedly brought up in ACOSF:

But Elain said, “I went into the Cauldron, too, you know. And it captured me. And yet somehow all you think of is what my trauma did to you.”

“Elain was right. We’ve become so focused on how her trauma impacted us that we forget she was the one who experienced it.”

(...) he understood that Elain had spoken true, claiming the trauma of that memory.

Now, look at how many times Elain being captured by the Cauldron came up.

Elain had been stolen. By Hybern. By the Cauldron, which had seen Nesta watching it and watched her in turn.

Do you not remember the Cauldron kidnapping you, bringing you into the heart of Hybern’s camp?

The Cauldron looked at her. And then took Elain.

“Bad things happened the last time. The Cauldron looked at me. And took Elain.

“I know. I helped rescue Elain, after all.” Az hadn’t so much as hesitated before going into the heart of Hybern’s war-camp.

He’d gone with Feyre into the heart of Hybern’s camp to save Elain—he knew the risk.

These are just a few examples to say: Sarah is setting up her next book by remind us again and again how deep her trauma is.

Now, how did the Cauldron kidnapped her in the first place?

Nesta was already moving, sprinting for where we’d heard that voice. Luring Elain out.

I knew how it had done it.

I’d dreamed of it.

Graysen standing on the edge of camp, calling to her, promising her love and healing.

Graysen promising love and healing: everything she had hope for.

Now, who rescued her?

From the shadows near the entrance to the tent, Azriel said, as if in answer to some unspoken debate, “I’m getting her back.”

Nesta slid her gaze to the shadowsinger. Azriel’s hazel eyes glowed golden in the shadows.

Nesta said, “Then you will die.”

Azriel only repeated, rage glazing that stare, “I’m getting her back.”

And we have this reaction:

Azriel gently removed the gag from her mouth. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, devouring the sight of him as if not quite believing it. “You came for me.” The shadowsinger only inclined his head.

I don't believe it's coincidence that the Cauldron used Graysen's image to lure Elain out, and Azriel was the one who got her back. (I'm dying to get into her head and see her feelings about all of this)

And ACOSF reminded us of this as well:

Azriel stiffened. "I know. I helped rescue Elain, after all.” Az hadn’t so much as hesitated before going into the heart of Hybern’s war-camp.

Repeatedly. We don't know how this characters felt at that moment, we don't have their POV's, but after ACOSF I do think this was a crucial moment for both of them: Elain and Azriel.

Lightsingers

“There are lightsingers: lovely, ethereal beings who will lure you, appearing as friendly faces when you are lost. Only when you’re in their arms will you see their true faces, and they aren’t fair at all. The horror of it is the last thing you see before they drown you in the bog. But they kill for sport, not food.”

"Hunt the kelpies or lightsingers without provocation and you might find yourself trapped here.”

When Cassian explains what is a lightsinger, the book has already remind us again and again the Cauldron took Elain.

We know Nesta fought a kelpie. But what if the reason why we didn't see a lightsinger is because Elain will be the one who will face one?

Lightsingers lure people, appearing as a friendly face: this is exactly what happened when Elain was captured by the Cauldron, when she saw Graysen. We know that was very traumatic for her - she told us that herself.

Elain already experienced what is to be lured, so if anyone could face a lightsinger and survive is her. She wouldn't make the same "mistake" twice.

Graysen standing on the edge of camp, calling to her, promising her love and healing.

There are lightsingers: lovely, ethereal beings who will lure you, appearing as friendly faces when you are lost.

Elain was lost, the last thread that connected her to her humanity had been cut off. The Cauldron used her love for Graysen, her deepest wishes, her hope for a future and turned it all against her.

But when a character is developed, they learn with their mistakes, they get stronger. What it was once a weakness might become their greatest strength, which is something very present in SJM books (The Nephelle Philosophy?) .

Elain's strength comes from her hope, she looks at the darkness of the world and sees the light. If the Cauldron used it once against her, maybe that hope would be precisely how she could break through whatever luring spells lightsinger cast.

There's a reason why SJM remind us again and again about that specific moment, which was without a doubt one of the most important ones between Elain and Azriel, and possibly because we are going to see Elain dealing with her struggles.

But what if there's more? What if that trauma would be the reason why Elain can face a lightsinger and survive?

What if what was once a weakness may become... her strength, her survival?

#pro elain #acotar theory #pro elain archeron

[btsslowburnfic]

The Arrangement Ch 17

Story summary: Desperately in need of money, you answered the questionable ad. AKA-Arranged marriage AU featuring Y/N and Yoongi

Chapter Summary: Part one of the photoshoot

Previous Chapter here

The work week proceeded as normal. Well, what had become normal. Delivering coffee and reminding Yoongi to eat, answering emails, trying to figure out which meetings Yoongi actually needed to go to and which ones were a waste of time. Of course you always went to the meetings, and holy shit you couldn’t believe the topics couldn’t have been discussed via email. You were looking forward to this particular day because you got to go visit Hoseok in the style department and Jimin had decided he was tagging along “for funsies.”

Yoongi was supposed to go and get measured and try on clothes for his photoshoot. When you reminded him that morning he laughed at you, “Uh no. Hoseok knows what size I wear. He can figure it out. Go look at the clothes and I might try some of them on tonight.”

You and Jimin met up for lunch and then headed up to the styling department.

“I’m excited. I’ve never been to a photoshoot before.” You said bouncing up and down in the elevator. 

“Yeah, they’re pretty boring actually. Like if it’s with some of the hotter models it’s a little fun for the eye candy, but then you feel bad for them because they have to sit for so long  making awkward faces. They are constantly getting their make-up and hair touched up. Touch base with craft services to make sure there’s plenty of water. The lights are bright.”

You took out your phone, “Oh thanks. I wouldn’t have even thought about that. Any other tips?”

“It’s Yoongi. It won’t take as long as it does with the other people. He’ll show up, do it, and leave. JK and Tae, especially Tae, want to chat with everyone on set and if they are together it takes foreeeeevvvveeeeeerrrrr.” 

“Huh, ok. Thanks.” The two of you arrived at JHOPE Fashion and walked through the rainbow vomit doors. 

Hoseok was wearing glasses with yellow lenses today, which made his dramatic facial expressions stand out even more. He immediately rolled his eyes. He pointed to you. “You are not Yoongi.” He pointed to Jimin. “And you are not Yoongi.” He put his hands on his hips. “So why are the two of you here?” 

“I’m sure you can guess why.” You responded dryly.

“Ugh. That ungrateful man. I had lovingly hand stitched these pieces. For him. These patches...” Hoseok pressed his fingers together as though he was praying. “Fine. Fine. You. Y/N. Come. You. Jimin. Wait right there.”

Jimin’s eyes went wide. “Me? Why do I have to wait here?” 

Hoseok turned from where he had started to walk towards the back. “You will thank me in a minute. A certain someone is coming to get his fitting in a few minutes.” He raised an eyebrow and then turned around, his heels clacking against the red tile floor.

Jimin started to blush profusely and before you could ask, Hobi interrupted, “Come new girl. We have work to do especially if that boss of yours refuses to come here and experience these magnificent beauties for himself.”

You followed him through the large door, which led to lime green hallways and then to a quiet, more muted workspace. The walls were lined with fabric bolsters, the middle tables with ribbon, thread, patches, paint. Paint? 

Hoseok sat down. “From what I understand, this album will have an acoustic feel to it versus his previous albums. For that reason I have chosen these natural materials such as cotton, linen, and denim.” He spread out several pieces onto the large table. “I have also opted for a more neutral pallet, as much as it hurts my soul. I have chosen colors found in nature. I have chosen brightly colored accessories such as these silks to stand in contrast with the stiff fabric and more neutral colors he will be wearing. Additionally, I avoided black. We’ll see if he notices.” 

You watched as he draped the red and purple silks over the top of the clothes. For whatever reason, you found it mesmerizing watching the fabric juxtapositioned in such a way.  “It’s so cool to hear you tell a story just using clothes.” You said, somewhat enchanted.

Hoseok flicked his eyes up to you, “Thank you. That is what I try to do with my collections. Everyone’s outfit tells a story, even if they don’t mean for it to. May I?” He asked, stepping back and gesturing at you.

“Oh man. You know I don’t dresses fancy--”

“Shhhh you don’t tell me.” He looked at your outfit. You had opted for an Aline skirt and blouse with a casual blazer.  “You had meetings this morning, that’s obvious by the jacket. You usually dress cuter. Which means you are either sick or not feeling great. You look fine. So I’m guessing...you are on your period. Sorry, this just comes out, I can’t stop it,” he paused for a moment as your jaw dropped open slightly. He stepped closer, inspecting the shoulders of your jacket. “The blazer is at least ten years old but you shouldn’t have had a blazer ten years ago unless it was for your school uniform and that isn’t a school jacket. Which means it probably belonged to an older sister or aunt. You are very responsible and well organized otherwise you wouldn't be Yoongi’s assistant. Therefore you are most likely the oldest or only child so that is your aunt’s jacket. Your blouse is nice. You actually like it, you’ve worn it twice in the week you’ve been working here. You bought it at a thrift store. You don’t spend a lot of money on yourself, but you are very confident. Therefore, it’s not that you don’t think you deserve nice things, it’s just that you can’t afford them so you likely grew up poor and it has continued into your adulthood.”

“Holy shit. You should be a detective.” You said to him.

“The shoes, I gave you last week. They don’t have a story yet, other than a very good -looking man in a suit helped you out because Jimin said you were a nice girl. You wear zero accessories which shows a lack of both funds and sentimentality. Most people have at least one piece of jewelry that means something to them, but if you have one, you don’t wear it.” He smiled at you, his white teeth gleaming. “ Now, how much am I right about?” He crossed his hands in front of his chest.

You clapped your hands as though you were in an audience. “All of it. Although I am still weirded out that you know I’m on my period. Next time I’m going to wear something skin tight to throw you off.” You joked.

“Well,” he started, “At least now that you work here you don’t have to worry as much right?”

Given the shitshow you went through this weekend you weren’t sure about that, but you shrugged, “It definitely pays better. And money doesn’t buy happiness, but it sure helps make some things less hard.” You gestured to the pile of fabric on the table, “So...what do I do? Take these clothes with me for Yoongi to try on or will they be at the photoshoot tomorrow? Do I need to bring them to the photoshoot?”

Hoseok sighed dramatically, “I could dress Yoongi drunk, in my sleep. He can just show up tomorrow and I will dress him then. My staff will make sure the clothes and accessories are at the photoshoot. Here,” He walked over to one of the garment racks. “More clothes for you. I know you have a big closet. And if you run out of space, just take Yoongi’s, he only wears like three things despite my best efforts.”

You laughed, “Yeah, you’re not kidding. Ok thanks,” You took the clothing. “I appreciate it.”

“It’s no trouble. Feel free to see yourself out, I’ll see you tomorrow. Oh and please make sure the catering has strawberries.”

“Strawberries? Got it.” You were learning so much today. 

You exited the backroom and saw Jimin over near one of the pedestals. He was chatting with JK who was getting fitted with a corset. What an itty bitty waist, you admired. The two of them seemed to be having a good time and you had a new list of things to do so you waved at Jimin and headed to 1802 to drop off your new clothes. You had forgotten Hoseok knew you lived with Yoongi. The week had flown by.  

You sent a text message to Jiwoo asking if you could stop by her desk and ask her a few questions to make sure everything was set up for tomorrow and then stopped by the apartment.

You conferred with her and learned how to navigate catering requests via the company website; apparently it wasn’t available on the app, good to know. you felt much better about the shoot tomorrow but still nervous and excited.

You knocked on the door to Genius Lab. No answer. Never any answer. You typed the code in and saw Yoongi wearing his headphones, lost in his own world. He had told you to just wait on the sofa when this was the case and that he would eventually notice you. Normally the smell of coffee was what alerted him to your presence, but you had come empty handed today. You sat down on the couch and took out your phone.

YN: I don’t mean to alarm you. But there’s something behind you.

You saw his phone light up. He ignored it for a minute, presumably to finish listening to a song, and then picked it up. You heard him laugh and take off his headphones.  “You are the worst.” He spun around.

“So mean. Hey. Tomorrow is my first photoshoot. I checked on the outfits for you. By the way, Hoseok is like Sherlock Holmes with clothing. I learned I’m supposed to contact catering, I have hair and make-up requests in. Do I need to do anything else?”

Yoongi thought for a minute. He never really participated in that side of the photoshoot, now that he reflected on it. He walked his way through a day on set.  “No. The changing rooms and photography are handled by other departments. Check with Jiwoo or Jimin, they’ve both set up a shoot before.”

“I did. I’m getting ready to send in the last food request. Any requests?”

“Mandarins. I don’t like to eat a lot on set because I don’t want stuff getting stuck in my teeth.”

“That makes sense. Ok. I’ll let you get back to it then.” You got up and stretched.

“Tomorrow will go fine. If you forgot anything, it will be somewhere in this building.” He reassured you.

“That makes me feel a lot better.” You said honestly. “Alright, I’ll see you around.”

“Later.”

--------------------

The next day arrived with Yoongi heading off to the hair and make-up department and you heading to the 11th floor to see what the photo set up looked like. You exited the elevator. Man your hands were sweaty, you followed the sounds of voices and made your way to the shooting location. The lighting crew was checking their overheads, a stand-in was posing on the various props they had set out. It looked as though there were three separate “areas” for shooting photos. One area had a large white couch, complete with coffee table, rubber plant, magazines. The whole set up designed to look like a living room. A second space was a blue sheet with a white background. The third space was a kitchen, complete with an island, stovetop, and refrigerator. Holy moly this space was huge. You marveled at it.

“Hello, can I help you?” An older man walked over.

“Oh hi, I’m YLN. Yoongi’s assistant. I was stopping by to check the set up. It looks incredible.”

“Thank you. Yes. Here, let me walk you through it.”

You received a tour of the set and also an overview of the order of shooting. You also found out that next week, weather permitting, there would be a second shooting at the park across the street. You got catering checked in, or at least pointed to the table and felt like you did a thing. The same happened when the clothing team showed up. You pointed to dressing rooms and the vanity where the accessories trunk should go. You were thankful no one had asked you any questions so far. This was a steep learning curve. You had hoped someone you knew might be here today to help ease your nerves, but so far, it was all new faces.

Finally, you saw one familiar face. Alice walked in, carrying a small case with her. You waved.

“Hey! It’s nice to see you again.” She said. “I had no idea you were Yoongi’s assistant until today.”

“Oh, yeah. I guess I didn’t mention that. I was so overwhelmed that first day,” you smiled.

“No worries. He was just telling me and Bongcha that he had an assistant now. He’s almost done. His make-up is setting. I’m on hair today which isn’t my strong suit, but it’s not like he’s needing a fancy up-do or anything and it’s good for me to practice.”

“Ok great. This is my first time at a photoshoot, so if there’s something I’m supposed to be doing but I’m not, can you let me know?” You confided in her. 

“Absolutely. It looks like most of the stuff is set up how it usually is. Just remember,” she got closer to you and spoke quieter, “You are Yoongi’s assistant. Some of these people, especially these older guys will try to get you to do stuff like get their coffee, grab them snacks. That is not your job. It’s not by job. If they have an assistant, it’s their job.” 

“I knew I liked you when we first met,” you smiled at her. “Thanks for the heads up.”

“Anytime Unnie.”

She walked over and took out her hair tools and placed them on the table reserved for hair and make-up. A few minutes later you saw Yoongi walk in wearing a black shirt and grey sweats. His face looked even more beautiful than normal. Next to him was a petite girl with long black hair pulled up into a ponytail, dragging a make-up train behind her.  Yoongi looked around for a second, and then locked eyes with you. You saw the tiniest smile threaten to come out as he walked over.

“Hey. Everything here looks good.” He gestured to the room.

“Thanks. I didn’t do most of it, I just pointed and people seemed to know what to do already. Your face looks good.” 

Yoongi chuckled, “You can thank Bongcha for that. Bongcha, this is YN.”

Bongcha stuck out her hand, “Hi. Nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Nice to meet you as well. You do good work. I give his face a 10/10. Highly recommend.” 

“Well, it’s easy when you have such a great model to start with,” She smiled while looking up at Yoongi.

Yoongi had started to blush between the pair of compliments. “Is Hoseok here yet?”

“No not yet.” You took out your phone to see if you had any messages from Hoseok. Nope. You looked back up, “Bongcha, I’m sure you already know, but the make-up table is over there.  Alice is setting up right now.”

“Great, thanks!” She headed over, her shiny hair swishing behind her. 

Speak of the devil in blue himself, Hoseok strutted in at that exact moment wearing an electric blue suit. His crisp white shirt underneath popped beneath the jacket, and his pocket square had little sunshines on it.

“Wow. You look like the sky.” You said before you could help it.

“Thank you. Indeed. It was my inspiration today. It’s a crime to be indoors beneath these artificial lights on such a beautiful day. Oh well. It can’t be helped.” He laid eyes on Yoongi, like a predator gazing on its prey, “Yoongi. Baby. Come.”

Yoongi scrunched his face. “Don’t call me baby. If you miss the sunlight so much, leave. I know how to dress myself.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you don't know which pieces go together.” Hoseok grabbed Yoongi by the shoulders and started leading him over to the clothing section, leaving you to laugh at the pair of them. You went over to the table you had set up for yourself between make-up and the food. You had printed off several lists that morning to help you stay focused. You checked off several action items. Satisfied, you sat your clipboard down and looked around. It was a well-oiled machine for sure. You walked over to the hair and make-up table. “Hey ladies.”

“Hey! Have you two met yet?” Alice asked, referring to Bongcha.

“Yep, we just did.” Bongcha confirmed, putting on her make-up apron and filling it with various powders and brushes.

“Ooooo we should do a make-up party sometime.” Alice squealed. “We try to do it with all the new girls. And since Yoongi is” she hushed her voice again “One of our favorites. We have to take care of his assistant.”

You smiled, “Sure. That sounds nice. Excuse me.” You decided to go see how the clothes were going.

“Yes. Yoongi’s assistant. So glad you’re here.” Hoseok turned to you.

“She has a name, it’s YN.” You heard Yoongi say from behind the curtain.

“Yes yes. I know. We talked yesterday, remember? At that meeting I scheduled for me and you that you did not come to. Anyways, here. The outfits are now coordinated. They have tags on them corresponding to their accessory in the accessory trunk. Some pieces have more than one option that the Director of Photography and Yoongi will decide on. Got it?”

You looked over the set up. It seemed simple enough since Hoseok had organized it so well .”Yep. You going out to enjoy the sunshine?” 

“Honey, I am the sunshine. I’m off to get laid after having to deal with this cloudy baby.” He gestured to the changing room.

“Don’t call me baby.” Yoongi shouted from behind the curtain. You just laughed as Hoseok turned around and left. You waited for a few minutes. 

“You ok in there? Need me to come help you put your pants on?” You teased.

“Not necessary.” Yoongi slid open the curtain. Why was everyone teasing him today? He pouted without thinking about it.

You walked over, straightening the collar of his shirt “Hey now, you can’t go around pouting like a baby and not expect people to call you one. Here,” you handed him a mandarin. He scowled at you as he took it. “Such a pretty face” You laughed. 

“Yeah whatever. I can eat this while they set up the white meter. You should be fine to just hang around at this point.”

“Alright. Sounds good.” The two of you walked over to the main part of the set where the Director gave Yoongi instructions about where to sit as they practiced the blocking and softbox placement.

“Oh my god he looks so good eating that tangerine.” You overheard. Your eyes bugged out slightly and you turned around. A group of women from the photography team were looking at the images to check the saturation and focus, as well as apparently the model. Damn. NEXT CHAPTER

@lidda  @anpanman-sonyeondan   @firefairy1  @cuteipat​  @sugaslittlekookies​  @janeelizabeth1216​ @deeepvibes​ @gxldenhunny​ @livelyjay​ @niniita-ah​ @bobbyboops​ @honeysunandsoil​ @deathkat657​

#BTS suga #bts writing #bts fic #suga x you #suga x reader #yoongi scenarios #bts yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi x y/n #suga x y/n #bts suga x reader #bts suga x you

[docholligay]

Ghost Story

Sometimes I can do things for me, as a treat!! Total universe is here for timeline

Pharah was a woman of action. When Mercy did not know what to do or say, she would pray, and while Pharah wished she had the sort of faith that could give her that strength, the only religion she had ever bent to was that of order. This was what she could do. She could clean Tracer’s nails. She could comb her hair. She could wash and dress her, and ready her to be cremated. 

Others had offered, but Pharah had insisted. It would be too much for Emily and Winston, who had cared so much for her in the last months of her life. They should be permitted to simply mourn. Mercy had done the autopsy, sent out the samples to try to learn something from all this, and that had been enough to expect from her. Her family was preparing everything for her funeral. The rest of the Overwatch team had duties Pharah had assigned to them. 

She would have said all of these were the reasons she had chosen to do it, but there was also the matter of care. Pharah knew that few people had her sense of perfection, her sense of drive and completion, and so it was only Pharah that could be trusted to make sure that her body was properly prepared. It was a duty, something she owed Tracer, to make sure her final appearance in this world was a correct one. 

She smoothed the front of Tracer’s shirt. Mercy’s work had been exceptionally neat and careful, even for her, and the stitches had been so tightly spaced and small, with transparent thread, her own labor of love, that you would have been forgiven for not knowing Tracer had been autopsied at all. Pharah looked at Tracer, dressed in the clothes Emily had given Pharah, washed and straightened and ready for the coffin in the corner, a cheap wooden thing Tracer had purchased herself. 

She considered a moment. Something was wrong. She nodded as it came to her, and reached down, ruffling her hand through Tracer’s too-straight hair, letting the cowlicks fly up. 

“You won.” She looked down at Tracer’s body, “I saved your life once, and you saved my life twice. You died with the greater score. Congratulations.” 

“Saved your life once, Fareeha, in a bleeding miserable patch of desert outside Cairo. Not that I ‘ate winning, mind, but its the principle of the bloody thing.” 

Pharah stepped back in what was nearly a stumble, and looked at the body in front of her. It had not stirred, still cold, and grey, the cheekbones still too sharp and sunken, eyes closed, breath still, heart stopped.

“God, but I look bloody awful,” Pharah’s entire body stiffened at the sound of it, the clear, bouncing impossibility of it, “Not to say as you didn’t do your best, Fareeha, but, you know, cor, blimey, and what the ‘ell..” A giggle. 

“I have not slept well in days,” Pharah said, closing her eyes and breathing deeply, “I have been stressed. I have been jailed. Lena was close to me. I have been thinking of nothing but her.” 

“And I am sorry about that, love,” Out of the corner of Pharah’s eye, a motion at her side, “But I suppose it would ‘ave been the same if it were this week or a year from now, right? Right.” The question she always asked and answered. “Sides all that, if Ang was telling the truth, and of course Ang always tells the truth, about these sorts of things, it would have been a bit of a rough go, dying that way. Maybe would have been worse memories, than me just sort of….” Pharah looked to her as she made a fluttering gesture, “fading away in Win’s arms.�� She grinned. “Fareeha?” Her eyes widened. 

“You are,” she took a breath,”  a hallucination.”  

“Right,” Tracer nodded, “you're speaking English because you don’t think I can ‘ear you. Makes sense.” 

Pharah looked at her, and down at her body, and back to her. The Tracer in front of her had round, pink apples back in her cheeks, her eyes were clear and bright with no sign of pain in them, and her voice chirped and popped with joy. The blue RAF shirt she wore fit her neatly, all that muscle that had gone from the body in front of her apparently restored, and her tan corduroy pants wrinkled and straightened as she rocked on her heels. 

The effect was so perfect that tears prickled in Pharah’s eyes. Her brain was a cruel thing. 

“Oh, it’s all right, you big ol Turkish delight!” The hallucination swatted at her, and then launched herself onto the edge of the table where her body lay, dangling her feet, “We all die, don’t we?  I always did rush things, a bit. But I’m alright now, nothing to worry about, love.” 

Pharah stared down at the body, unmoving even as the unmistakable feel of her filled the room. She is dead, Fareeha. You were there when she took her last breath. You carried her body up here. You slipped off her wedding ring and gave it to Emily. Lena Oxton is dead. 

“I am hallucinating.” Pharah said it like a prayer, letting it ring out against the walls. 

“No you ain’t, love.” Tracer barely missed a beat. “Wish you’d all ‘ave let me just ‘ave me body dumped out the door. Seems a waste, this, even after all I saved doing it meself.” She jumped off the table and scampered around to Pharah’s other side. “‘Ave you always been able to see ghosts, Fareeha? You never did tell me that! Leave it to you, ‘ave a secret like that. I’ve nothing like that. Me thumb’s double jointed, I suppose.” She giggled and bounced, flashing a bright smile. 

Pharah closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Rest. All she needed was rest. And still, these mantras being true, a tear sprung from her eye, and rolled down her cheek. 

“Oh God Fareeha, but I ‘ate seeing you cry. I’m only dead, love, and you’d be surprised--”

“I am not sad that you are dead.” She said, the words barely coming out. 

Tracer gave a bark of a laugh. “Wasn’t expecting that. Bit ‘arsh, love, bit ‘arsh.” 

“I am sad,” she gave another slow, deep breath and opened her eyes, “Because when I imagine you this way,” she indicated to her side but did not look there, “I am reminded of how very sick you became. I never told you this, when you were alive. I will not burden you with it.” 

Tracer paused for a moment, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “All right love, all right, but,” She dashed around to the far side of the table where body lay, facing Pharah, “‘Allucination is all I am, right? So it’s only you talking to yourself, not burdening me with nothing, innit? And maybe you’ll feel a bit better, saying whatever it is.” 

Pharah looked at Tracer, whose eyes flicked around Pharah’s face, waiting. She had a point. To refuse to say this to Tracer meant she gave her hallucination power. Her hallucination was not real, and it was only a way to cope with the loss, and so she would only be putting in words what she already knew. 

Yes. This was the most logical path. 

“Watching you deteriorate was one of the most painful things I have ever experienced.” Pharah nodded. “Seeing you be taken, slowly. It hurt.” 

Tracer’s voice was soft, and her eyes were warm. “Could ‘ave told me, love.” 

Pharah huffed and shook her head. “Yes, I should have told you how bad your dying, your suffering, your struggle,  made me feel. That is a very responsible thing to do.” 

“Oh ease up, Amari,” Tracer rolled her eyes, “Talked about it with Win. With Ang. Ang cried, even, god but she felt so guilty. Wish I could tell her it wasn’t ‘er fault, and she did all by me, I mean, I did tell her that, but again, right? And you and me are friends. You ‘elped me, Fareeha, and I’s feeling useless, right? Might ‘ave been something I could have reassured you over, felt better. “ 

“Why would I complain to you about something that is my fault?” She looked bad down at Tracer’s body, somehow seeing her dead easier than the firework in front of her. 

“I do ‘ave to say that discovering you’ve been Moira O'Deodorant all this bloody time is a bit of a shock, love.” 

 Pharah turned away from the table, and put her hands behind her back, pacing just a little bit away, eyes flicking to the coffin now and again. 

“Do you remember when we were captured? And tortured?” 

“No, Fareeha,” came the annoyed chirp behind her, “completely bloody forgot about the most painful experience of me life, that ended up killing me, slipped me bloody mind, it did.” 

“My mind does a very good impression of you.” Pharah shook her head and tried to take a soothing breath. “You drew her anger. You needled at her, you annoyed her. You made her furious, and so she did not hurt me as badly as she did you.” 

“Alright,” she walked up next to Pharah, arms crossed, “What were you meant to do then? Die as well?” 

“I could have saved you,” The tears choked in her throat again, the painful guilt that had run through her mind with every one of Tracer’s struggles, her spasms and seizures and suffering, “If I had been faster with my tongue--” 

Tracer laughed. “Right, love, and if I was 190 centimeters, then. Fareeha,” She put her hand on Pharah’s elbow, and Pharah swore it felt warm, “I did what I did because I wanted to do it. You couldn’t ‘ave saved me, love, anymore than Ang could. Moira’d had it out for me for a bloody decade. Would have all ended the same, but,” she smiled, “I got to save you. And when things were ‘ard, I thought of that. She was going to kill me one way or the other, and you can count on that, but now I know Overwatch is in good ‘ands. Your ‘ands.” 

“Still--” 

Tracer put her hands on her hips and stood in front of her. “What you’re saying is you wish it was me felt guilty, instead of you? Not very kind of you, Fareeha, I’d be bloody miserable in your position, so you’re saving me a bit of trouble by ‘aving me die instead.” 

Pharah looked at her, letting the tears fall quietly. 

“I will miss you.” 

“Suspect you ‘aven’t seen the last of me,” she stood on her tip toes and wiped a tear from Pharah’s cheek, “Thank you, for ‘elping with me. This, but also, the washing, the cooking, everything, when I was poorly. For ‘elping Win and Em. I love you too, Fareeha.” 

“You can’t really be here.”

“Doesn’t matter, love, if I’m ‘ere or not. Makes you feel a bit better, seeing me, and let’s not worry too much about me reality. I’m ‘ere for now.” 

Pharah nodded, took a deep breath, and turned around, lifting the light body into her arms, and laid the shell of what had been a strange and wonderful friend into the unstained, plain little coffin. 

She chuckled as she stood up. “You spared every expense on this.” 

“Bloody fucking right I did, you see how much a casket is? To be set on fire?  That’s a shipping crate, it is, bought it online, ‘ad it shipped to the ‘ouse.” 

Pharah roared with laughter. There was no one like Lena, in this world, and if imagining her kept her here a little longer, well, maybe she would allow herself a little belief.

#HON HON HON