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ancientwastedlores · 3 years

Text

Undone by “Darling”

REQUEST (from @november-solarstorms): Celebrating another year of this earth being braced by Tom Hiddleston's presence! Lol. Might I make a prompt request? I feel as though it would be interesting to read from Loki's POV to explore the dynamics between him and a human female who is just as intelligent as he. She has a sharp wit and even sharper tongue. Her sarcastic and clever nature enable her to out-banter Tony Stark, the king of snark himself (may he rest in peace). But she is also just as flirtatious and salacious. She never blushes, never falters, and is incredibly clever. You can decide the nature of their encounter. Really im just in it for a good game of cat and mouse.

A/N: Okay, I had SO MUCH FUN writing this!! And yeah, this will run a bit longer than my usual fics lol. Also, there IS a Loki POV, just keep reading thaaanks <3

WARNINGS: none.

WORD COUNT: 1,932

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Undone by “Darling”

17 hours and 6 white chocolate mochas later, it was finally ready - an upgraded version of Corvus Glaive’s glaive, this one spec-ed out to your fancies and requirements. It was a beast, and definitely not something Nick Fury would ever let you play around with, even if you made it.

Satisfied with your work, you remove your safety goggles and grin at Stark, who is working on his own weapon he scavenged from the Black Order.

‘I’m done!’ you say triumphantly, causing him to look up and groan. ‘How did you finish before me!?’ he lowers his glasses and looks at your weapon. ‘I’m smarter’ you say. ‘I went to MIT’ ‘And I didn’t, yet here we are, both in the same lab’.

He shakes his head, not unlike a petulant child, causing you to laugh.

‘How far along are you?’ you ask. ‘Still running diagnostics’. ‘Still!?’ ‘Have you seen the size of his hammer?’ he gestures to Cull Obsidian’s chain hammer on his work table, but the innuendo doesn’t escape you and you grin at him. He facepalms. ‘Y/n, for god’s sake...’ ‘You’re just tired, or you’d appreciate the joke too’.

You stretch your weary body and let out a deep breath. You’d test the weapon out tomorrow, but for now, you need a nap.

‘Take a load off, Stark. Hammer’ll be there tomorrow’. ‘Oh, you’d like that wouldn’t you...’ he puts his goggles back on and get to work.

Loki’s POV:

Humans are surprising, but I always knew that. I never thought them boring, even if my brother says I do. Humans are of so little power but such incredible resilience that it’s frankly astonishing. I am inclined to believe that sometimes resilience is just stupidity... in most cases, I am right. But that’s not to say I haven’t come across some truly brave people.

Take the Avengers Tower, for example.

Just in here, you have Y/n, a brave soldier with the mind of an intergalactic scavenger, and I do mean that as a compliment. She’s awfully clever, she can build better than Stark, and has a track record of finishing every mission to perfection and before time. And then you have the Super Soldier Steve Rogers, a big muscled, big hearted idiot who often mistakes challenging our enemies for bravery and morality.

The two couldn’t be more different, but they get along like siblings. Not siblings like Thor and I... better adjusted, perhaps.

They sit in front of me, talking about some mission while they play Chess. Her moves are quick but calculated, his take more time because he’s more interested in telling his story than playing the game.

‘...so there I am, no weapons, no shield, bang in the middle of the Serpent Citadel...’

He’s a good storyteller, I’ll give him that. But not as good as Y/n. She paints quite a picture, full of delicious gory details and horribly dark jokes.

‘Steve, you have to pay attention, you’re losing’ she says. ‘Yeah, I don’t actually know how to play chess, I just wanted you to listen to my story’.

She looks up at him, almost offended. ‘STEVE...’ ‘Cool, I’m gonna go wrap Stark into a game of Battleships and tell him about my fight with Copperhead’.

She laughs as he leaves the room, and she puts the chess pieces away.

‘We could play?’ I ask her. ‘Is the God in a mood to lose?’ ‘Over confidence isn’t attractive in anybody’. ‘Oh darling, neither is telling someone what is and isn’t attractive’.

She’s never called me that before, and in the context it should seem cutting, but it isn’t. ‘Darling?’ ‘Problem?’ ‘It’s quite a term of endearment to set someone straight’.

She says nothing.

‘Cat got your tongue?’ I tease her. She only smiles and continues putting the pieces away neatly. Stark’s chess set is gold and black, all individually carved pieces. The pawns are all Iron Man suits, but that’s to be expected. She handles them with the care Stark would.

‘I mean...’ I continue, ‘honestly, if someone heard, they’d never let you live it down’.

And she carries on, unbothered.

‘Y/n!’ ‘Oh dear, look at you come completely undone with just one term of endearment’ she comments, shutting the chess set. ‘Whatever would happen if I held your hand?’

The very thought of it seemed to drain my brain of blood. I unwillingly glanced at her hands, working the lock mechanism of the box, her blue veins prominent.

‘Cat got your tongue?’ she asked.

I stood up, the human emotion of embarrassment becoming too familiar for me. ‘I’ll have to see you at lunch’. ‘Sure, darling’.

Oh, I hate how she’s enjoying this.

----------

The next day, Y/n booked a training room to test out the Glaive, and Stark had a rusty but working chain hammer. Steve insists on trying it out anyway, and now our breakfast is being spent on discouraging him from doing that.

‘Guys... if nothing else, I’ll still have my shield. Let me test it out!’ ‘Y/n’s glaive cuts through Vibranium, you know that, right?’ Stark says. ‘Y/n wouldn’t do that’. ‘Oh yes she would’ Y/n says nonchalantly as she sinks her teeth into a bacon and egg sandwich.

As she does, the yolk runs down her fingers. She makes a sound at the inconvenience and sets the sandwich down, then grabs a napkin. I’m hardly ever crude, but the energy it took not to take her hand and lick off the yolk myself could burn every star in the galaxy.

Captain America scrunches his nose at her remark, severely offended.

‘In any case, that shield barely covers your giant body. It will force Stark to make you a new one’. ‘What do you care about his giant body’ Stark says. ‘It’s America’s ass, Tony’ she takes a sip of her iced coffee. Steve blushes, and Tony rolls his eyes.

----------

The training facility is magic, of course, somewhere between a mirror dimension and Wanda’s reality powers creating a safe cocoon inside the building so no one can be harmed. Y/n hardly trusted anybody to fight with her except Thor, but given the nature of Corvus’ Glaive, she knew magic would be required.

And so she called me.

After getting into my battle armour, I stepped into the facility, equipped with my sceptre and the teachings of the witches of Asgard.

She whistles as I walk in. ‘Trying to distract me from killing you?’ ‘Are you?’ I ask. She’s dressed in a black bodysuit, details of purple in her belt and weapon harnesses. ‘Why yes, I am. Glad you noticed’.

The glaive is on the floor, and she stomps her foot on one part of it so it swivels up and neatly places itself in her hand. She smiles.

‘Try to keep up. I’m not just looking for eye candy in a training partner, darling’ she says, getting into battle stance.

With nothing left to say for the second time this week, I aim the sceptre at her and the stone at the end glows.

She charges and I shoot at her, but she spins the glaive and creates a shield which absorbs the energy.

She continues to charge at me. I shoot again, and again the glaive takes the hit. Not a scratch on her.

Once she comes closer, she simply places the flat end of the weapon against my chest, sending me hurtling back into a wall.

She spins the glaive and laughs.

‘Compliments of Wakanda. It absorbs any hits and charges up with kinetic energy’.

I get up on my feet. This is far from over. I create multiple illusions to surround her, all of them brandishing knives, Chitauri tech, and sceptres.

‘Damn, suddenly my whole evening has opened up’ she says, looking around.

Even my clones look around at each other puzzled.

‘Come on then, who’s up?’ she spins the glaive around. ‘One at a time or all at once, baby’.

They charge at her, and I expected her to fight them off at once... instead she plants the staff on the ground and ducks, and a semi-circle shell grows from the top of the staff, down to the floor... like a mini fortress, completely impenetrable. It could, no doubt, continue to take hits and build up kinetic energy, so I call off the clones.

She gets up and retracts the shell. ‘Nanotech’ she grins at me. ‘The whole shell sits in a disk. It can withstand bombs and even a moon’. ‘Is there any tech you haven’t adopted?’ ‘I’m an intergalactic scavenger, aren’t I?’

I stare at her, horrified. Can she read minds?

‘Maybe I can. Or maybe I heard you tell Stark when he was complaining about me finishing my weapon first’.

Silence.

‘Also, darling, you’re awfully predictable in your fighting’.

She picks up every trick and tech she sees, so beating her is less about weapons and more about cunning.

No problem. Cunning is my specialty.

‘Ready now?’ she asks. ‘Mhm’.

She takes a deep breath to ready herself, her eyes shutting slightly. Once they open back up, she stares in shock.

In my Jotun form, I give her my most menacing smile.

She cocks her head to the side, studying my icy blue skin.

The illusion I cast of myself approaches behind her, dagger in hand. Once it’s close enough and I can almost taste my victory, she raises the glaive and in one swift motion, sticks it into its abdomen.

The illusion disappears into green light.

‘Cute’ she remarks. She points the glaive at me. ‘What else you got for me?’ I shift back to my Asgardian form and sigh. ‘You win’.

Y/n laughs and lowers her weapon. ‘Oh darling, I won the second you walked in wearing all that leather’. She winks at me, then walks out of the facility. I feel a blush creep to my face, much against my will.

-------------

‘Maybe you should stick to your guns, Tony’ Y/n says, ‘Fancy suits is it for you, chain hammers may be overshooting it’. ‘Is that what they taught you in the back alley you learnt ironmongery from?’ ‘Yes! Do you want their number, I’m sure they’ll have a spot on the waiting list for you’.

Ah. Y/n’s relationship with Stark seemed more like mine with Thor. While they banter, Steve and Natasha tear up from laughing. I wouldn’t go so far as to call this domestic, but it certainly is comfortable.

‘Come on, the glaive can’t be that good, right Loki?’ Stark asks.

The company looks at me expectantly. ‘To say her weapon isn’t good enough means to insult your own tech, Stark. Everything about it is founded on your theories’.

‘So technically, it’s my brain that made the glaive so cool’ he tells Y/n. ‘Yeah, you could say that. The glaive comes from the same mind that manufactured Captain America’s dinner plate’.

Steve doesn’t find that one funny, but Natasha does, sending her into peals of laughter.

‘Oh whatever’ Tony huffs. ‘I’m going back to the lab’.

He stands up and Y/n grabs his arm. ‘Aww Tony, I’m just kidding!’ she pats his hand, ‘Look, you’re a brilliant inventor, we all have our slow days’.

He sighs and nods, and holds her hand. ‘Thanks... I guess I’m just not in my element, you know?’ ‘Yeah...’ she keeps patting his hand.

And the feeling of domesticity creeps in. We really are all a family. Y/n smiles encouragingly at Tony, and Tony seems more relaxed.

‘So, you want me to get you the number of that ironmongery, or...?’ ‘OH FOR...’ he snatches his arm away and storms out of the room, with Steve and Nat losing it all over again.

___________________________________________________________

Ah this was so fun!!!!!!!! I hope you guys liked it <3

MASTERLIST HERE

ASK BOX OPEN FOR FIC REQUESTS. Find GUIDELINES HERE.

#loki x you #loki pov #loki x reader #loki marvel #Marvel Avengers #avengers tower #avengers fluff #tony stark #loki fanfic #loki fluff #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston birthday #fic prompts

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maxismatchccworld · 4 years

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Hey you lovely Simmers! It is time for our new Spotlight of the Month. Please give a warm welcome to @ravasheencc 😊 I myself discovered RAVASHEEN through the Retro Smeg line. And like many of you, I was sold on the bunk bed set. What is your favorite cc?

I started playing sims waaaay back in the day when it came on a CD (that’s a compact disk for all you kids). I stopped playing in high school and didn’t start playing until late 2018 when I was trying to find a way to connect with my older sister who lived far away. She is a completely different type of simmer than me and has played her family for generations while I was always a die-hard builder. Our playing styles matched perfectly together and I would spend my time building her families new homes, restaurants, or whatever else she wanted. I would keep up to date on her family and help her make crucial life decisions like how should her sim respond to that weird text and where should they go on vacation.

Up until this point, neither of us had never heard of CC. I stumbled on it one day while browsing the gallery and seeing the custom content option and obviously my mind was blown. I downloaded all the CC much to the dismay of my poor laptop. Somehow I still couldn’t find everything I wanted and thus began my obsession with making CC. I started making CC just for my sister, but then decided to upload it to TSR since that was the main site I downloaded from.

Since I was a player before I made CC, my intention from the beginning was to make CC that was customizable, easy to use/place in game, and make things I always wanted but could never find. Although my quality has improved immensely, I feel even my early items reflected my mindset. That being said here are my favorite CC items/sets I have made so far:

1) Couldn’t Chair Less Sectional

One of the first things I wanted to make when I started creating CC was a sectional couch. The Couldn’t Chair Less Sectional many of you know today, is not the original version. I actually spent TWO MONTHS working on the original version of this couch only for it to be rejected when I uploaded it to TSR because it did not meet their strict guidelines. I started over from scratch, redid the whole set, and finally published my first piece of modular furniture. As of today, this couch wouldn’t meet my standards because of several things I didn’t know when I created it (making the corner piece functional, more mm style, etc). However, it is still one of my favorite sets because it follows my original intentions, is easy to use/place in game, and gives simmies the customization I always wanted. I want to note I am currently working on a new sectional couch which has so many more features and is reflective of the progress I have made in the year since my Couldn’t Chair Less Sectional was first released.

2) Sip Back & Relax Functional Bar Cart

This set is when I finally learned the fundamentals of making CC and expanded into changing/adding functionality to items. My sister actually suggested this set to me because most bars were those huge 2-tile wide monstrosities or the globe bar which wasn’t very stylish and was only available with an EP. So I set out to make a bar that was looked like something you would use in real life, but also had all the functionality of a Sims 4 bar. This ended up being a 1 tile bar cart with tons of slots to clutter up while allowing sims to use it as a fully functional bar in a much smaller footprint.

3) Do It Your-Shelf Modular Cubbies

The Do It Your-Shelf Modular Cubby set was reflective of my love for custimizable furniture and functionality. Cubbies are so versatile for almost any room. For the first cubby set, I added in empty cubbies as well as cubbies filled with toys that worked as functional toy bins. I thought this was reflective of something you would see in real life and reduced the footprint of items like the toy bin while maintaining functionality. Since this first came out, I have gotten soooo many requests to make different add-ons for it and I want you all to know not only am I working on add-ons but a totally new and improved cubby set that improves the in-game usabiltiy and aesthetics of the set!

4) Peg To Differ Pegboard Series

Although this is technically a few sets lumped into one, it is one of my favorite sets to date! I love using pegboards in real life and thought there were so many opportunities to use them in Sims. It took me weeks to figure out how to make the pegboards customizable with items and I am so happy I stuck with it! Since the original set I have come out with add-ons which have pieces that are both decorative and functional including: kids defender light, speakers, dresser, and umbrella rack just to name a few. I still have so many more ideas to expand on this set and can’t wait to share more in the future!

5) That’s What She Bed Bunk Bed

Although this was the second bunk bed set I made, this was included an entire set with versions for toddlers, single beds, loft bed, and coordinating furniture. I knew there was a need for bunk beds and tiny living only delivered a murphy bed. I set out to fill this gap and came up with this set! One question I have gotten since day 1 is if I can add ladder animation to the set and I want to all let you know I am working on it!

I wish I had 10 sets to cover cause there are so many more I want to feature but I hope this was a good sample of the CC I like to create! I have so many more ideas and can’t wait to create more for you all in the future!

#s4cc #s4 spotlight #ravasheencc

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7nosecrinkle7 · 4 years

Note

Sorry I shouldn't have kissed you with Maggie and Alex? Also I love your maggie and alex stuff its wonderful :) A true blessing my dear

Thanks, luv! I was so happy to see a request come through. You’re the first person to ever send in a request to me. I love hearing how much you enjoy my Maggie & Alex stuff <3 I love writing them!

Okay, so I had like three different ideas for how I could cover this prompt. I’ll probably post at least one of them at a later date. It’s a reverse situation to what’s written below. I went somewhat canon with a twist with this one. It’s a play off of the iconic “kiss the girls we want to kiss” Alex/Maggie scene from 2x08.

Background: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lZyQYS9i8tE

There’s a YouTube video that covers the Sanvers scenes that I’m using. Basically Maggie getting hit by a laser, Alex stitching her up, and then the scene that I’m specifically working off of. If you want. 2:11 is where this begins.

*I have a few more requests in my inbox that I’m working on. I haven’t forgotten about any of you!*

----------------------------------------------------------------------

You Want to Stay?

Alex was sitting at her kitchen island nursing a glass of whiskey. She sniffled for the umpteenth time that evening and rubbed at her nose. She knew she should definitely make some tea or even hot chocolate instead of drinking alcohol. Alex had been feeling run down the past few days, but the runny nose and scratchy throat seemed to kick in when she got home.

To top it all off, Alex had been in a weird mood all evening since patching Maggie up tonight in the med bay. Her feelings had bubbled back to the surface when she'd told Maggie she came out to her mom and about being gay. As much as Alex tried to convince herself, Maggie was not an option, and she was having a hard time accepting it. Alex wasn't big on feelings to begin with, but she mostly wasn't enjoying this internal emotional mumbo jumbo. She did not enjoy feeling like a hormonal teenager.

So to say it was a taxing day for Alex would be an understatement. The second Alex had made it home today, she showered and changed into her pajamas. She was exhausted physically, emotionally, and mentally. She muffled another cough into her long sleeves. Alex had picked this pajama shirt specifically because it could stretch over her palms and hands. It was her comfort shirt.

Alex took another sip of her whiskey and put the glass down. She was debating if she had the energy to make tea when a knock disrupted her thoughts. Alex quietly slid off her stool and walked to the door. She wasn't expecting anyone, so she pulled her gun out of the drawer and looked through the peephole.

Maggie's dimpled smile greeted her, and Alex relaxed. She slid the gun back into its place and quietly muffled a cough as she opened the door.

Maggie entered with her pack of beer and box of pizza, setting them down on the counter.

Alex put on a face of excitement in a poor attempt to pretend she felt fine as she asked about a potential new murder case. Before she knew it, Maggie was pacing and saying the most adorable and heart-pounding speech about how they should kiss the girls they want to kiss… Alex's brain was already foggy from feeling unwell, so it took her a moment to wrap her head around where Maggie's speech was going.

And then soft lips were greeting her own in a kiss.

Alex's mind went blank as she brought her hands up to cup Maggie's face. She got lost in the moment and deepened the kiss. Her lips were as amazing as she remembered, and yet it still surprised her. Alex gently pulled back with a dorky, hazy smile.

"So you're -- saying you like me?" Her voice cracked partway through as she asked Maggie to confirm what she was understanding.

Maggie gave her an affirmative nod and chuckled before Alex pulled her in for another kiss.

And then Alex's mind finally caught up to the mental cloud she was on.

"Sorry I shouldn't have kissed you," Alex said abruptly and leaned back. She pressed the back of her hand to her lips.

Maggie froze and blinked at Alex, "Oh… Sorry."

Alex's eyes got big really quick, "no, no, no, no, no, no! Not like that. I--" She cut off and shook her head. Alex brought her elbow up to cover her face quickly. She ducked to the side and sneezed twice.

Hih-- uh-- hiihEShew!.. Etsschhew! *snnnf*

Alex sniffled thickly and shook her head. *snnff* "I'm sick. I wanted to kiss you, I liked kissing you. I LIKE kissing you. I don't want you to get sick."

Maggie smiled, looking relieved. She gave an airy chuckle and tilted her head. "I can work with that."

She made her way around the counter. "Why don't I put the beer in your fridge for another night and make you some tea?" Maggie suggested.

Alex sneezed twice again.

Hhii-Hiiesheeww... Hiih-Hihesheeww!..

"I'll take that as a yes. Now go sit that cute butt of yours down on the sofa there and pick something out for us to watch."

"You want to stay? I mean, I want you to stay, but you're okay with that?" Alex wondered aloud.

"Of course I do, Alex. A few little germs aren't gonna scare me off," Maggie said with a dimpled smile. That look already made Alex weak in the knees.

"Although," Maggie started saying but cut herself off, "Nah, never mind."

"No, what was it?" Alex asked. She sat on the sofa facing the kitchen and pulled a blanket over her legs.

"Well, I was going to say maybe making out was off the table to play it safe, but that ship kinda sailed…" Maggie said as she filled the kettle with water.

Alex chuckled and ended up coughing rather harshly into her elbow.

"As much as I like that sentiment, and I really do like the idea, I'm not feeling up to it right now." Alex laid her head against the back of the sofa. She sighed, "it just hit me like a ton of bricks." She sniffled again.

"Cuddles it is," Maggie nodded. She busied herself, grabbing mugs. She debated which tea to make for each of them while Alex flipped through Netflix.

Alex's cough rattled through the apartment as she got settled.

"Jeez, Danvers. You didn't sound like this a few hours ago." Maggie responded after the coughing calmed down.

"I kndow," *snnf* Alex sniffled a few times. The congestion was starting to get to her. *snfff* "It kinda hit when I got home. I didn't feel like this a few hours ago, just a little tired."

Maggie hummed from the kitchen as Alex went back to looking through Netflix. She wasn't thrilled by her options, so she mustered the energy to get up and go through her DVDs. The best ones were at Kara's place, but she still kept a second copy of her go-to movie.

She pulled the disk out and put it in as the kettle whistled.

Maggie poured the water and carefully carried the hot mugs to the sofa.

"Here you go, Danvers," Maggie said, handing the mug to Alex. She placed her own mug on the table's coaster.

"Now, where are your tissues, and what medicine do you want?"

Alex sniffled and rubbed at her nose. "Um, tissues are next to my bed and whatever decongestant I have in the bathroom cabinet, please."

“Thank you,” Alex said. She blew lightly across the top and took a sip of her tea. She quietly moaned; it felt amazing on her throat. Maggie had put just the right amount of honey in it, too.

Maggie heard the moan and laughed, “you’re welcome. I’m glad you like it so much.” She padded off to get the tissues first, depositing them on the table, and then went to the bathroom. Alex could hear her shuffling through the cabinet's contents and hoped she had at least something still in there.

"Danvers, these expired two years ago," Maggie said, exiting the bathroom with the box of decongestants. "I also found an empty pack of Nyquil and an empty bottle of Advil."

Alex wasn't listening, though; her nose required her immediate attention.

Hih--uh… Huh’shhuuew… HuhUSSHew..!

Alex snuffled and reached for the box of tissues on the table.

"Bless you," Maggie said, brows furrowed and a frown forming.

Alex blew her nose, "ugh, thank you." She sighed stuffily. She was really counting on having something at the very least.

"That settles it then, give me eight minutes to run to the corner store and back," Maggie said, reaching for her jacket and keys.

"Nooo," Alex whined quietly, "I'll be fine. I'll have Kara bring me stuff tomorrow. I'll manage for tonight."

Maggie paused, "only if you're sure, Danvers. You sound beyond exhausted, and we both know medicine will help."

"I'm definitely sure," Alex nodded. She patted the sofa, silently trying to get Maggie to join her.

Maggie nodded and put her jacket back. She took a seat right next to Alex, "so did you pick a movie?"

"Yes, but don't laugh," Alex said. She pulled up the menu screen of the movie. "I went with The Goonies. I put it on every time I need a comfort movie."

Alex hit play, and they got settled in. Alex coughed and laughed her way through the truffle shuffle, and was nearly asleep two scenes later when she sneezed again.

Heh--hETSSHhew!

Alex groaned and flopped her head on the back of the sofa. She sniffled and squeezed her eyes shut before she leaned the other way and sneezed loudly.

Hihhh uhh HIHEtSsshHEW!

"C' mere," Maggie gestured towards herself. Alex didn't even question it before lying down on her side against Maggie. She sniffled several times, rubbing at her nose with her sleeve-covered hand.

One of Maggie's hands ran softly in circles over Alex's back underneath the blanket. She could feel Alex starting to relax into her. Maggie's other hand gently scratched at her scalp.

A content, yet stuffy, sigh came from Alex as she completely relaxed. The agent must've been beyond exhausted because she was asleep in under two minutes. Maggie placed a light kiss to the crown of Alex's head and settled in to watch the movie as Alex slept in her arms.

#snzfic #sneezefic #alex danvers/maggie sawyer #alex danvers x maggie sawyer #supersickfic #7nosecrinkle7 #sneezing #snz #snzblr #sickfic #crinklewrites

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juminsmysticmc · 5 years

Note

Rfa + Sarean + V. with suicidal MC and they had a bad fight then MC has bad thoughts.

Rfa + Minor Duo have a fight with a suicidal MC who has bad thoughts afterwards and tries to act on them but gets caught before she could do anything (TRIGGER WARNINGS, MENTION OF: Self harm, death, depression, suicide

Hiii! I hope I didn’t misunderstand you and wrote it the way you wanted. Please stay allert, trigger warnings! And please guys don’t give any hate, this is fictional and shows only a scene of the request! Now enjoy!

Jumin

You looked down as Jumin slipped angrily at his wine.

You were honestly sorry for what you did.

It wasn’t your purpose to embarrass him like that.

He muffled as he took a slip of his wine once again.

,,J-Jumin….I‘m sorry, it wasn’t my purpose to soak the best investor for C&R with wine….I simply….didn’t look.“ you tried to explain once again.

,,It’s humanly to make mistakes.“ he snapped.

Even through he said that, it seemed that he still couldn’t forgive you.

Your lips began to tremble….you tried to bite on them to stop the trembling, to not begin to sob in front of him.

None needs me. What’s the meaning of living if none loves me?

You questioned yourself as you observed your trembling hands.

Out of the blue you were interested if someone would cry over you.

Since Jumin decided to not talk to you, you decided to go away.

Forever.

You couldn’t bear it anymore, the man you loved would be better without you.

You opened the faucet as warm water filled the tub.

While the tub was getting filled you searched a for a blade and striped your clothes.

Your ugly shape made you remember that you never fitted for Jumin.

When the tub was full with enough water, you entered the warm paradise and turned it into hell.

You scratched your wrist as deep as possible as you grinned your teeth, it was more painful than you thought.

Because of the warm water you quickly lost conscious.

,,She‘s moving….“ a man‘s voice sobbed as he was holding your hands.

Somehow you were sure that Jumin was the one besides you.

And you were right, he was right by your side.

,,Jumin…what happened?“ you questioned him as you tried to get up a bit just to fail.

,,You…you tried to kill yourself, Mc….After almost two hours I wanted to use the bathroom and when I opened the door I found your bloody figure in the bath tub. It’s good that you never close yourself in……but why did you do it….?’’ he asked you, stroking your pale face.

,,I….I hated myself for arguing with you. I just wanted to die, to feel missed….’’ you told him and looked away.

Jumin however took your chin ans kissed your lips softly.

,,My love, you realize that we need help, right?’’ he asked you as his tears fell on your cheeks.

You nodded.

Zen

,,I WON’T FORGIVE YOU IF YOU DO IT!’’ you yelled at the white haired man as he signed a contract at your home.

,,THEN DON’T FORGIVE ME!’’ he yelled back and threw the pen away and glared at you.

His glare seemed to leave scars behind, your body began to tremble as your tears dripped on the floor.

,,HOW?! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?!’’ you asked him while you looked at the contract.

Zen just signed a contract for a new manager and a trip to L.A for a year.

,,BECAUSE I NEED A NEW MANAGER IF I WANT TO GET FAMOUS IN L.A!! I WILL TAKE YOU WITH ME!’’ he yelled.

He was angry at you.

He thought that you would support him but it seemed that you were just interested in your own feelings.

You however felt the same as you saw him with the contract.

He was selling you out just to get to go to L.A.

,,I hate you.’’ you snapped in a silent voice, showing your boyfriend that you were disappointed.

You rushed on his balcony to keep crying at the fresh air.

Bad thoughts haunted you as you kept crying harder and harder.

,,I’m not worth it! I’m no good for him, I’m holding him back! Mc you’re such a bitch!’’ you sobbed and began to slapp yourself.

Your biggest wish right now was just to die.

You hated yourself more then ever and when you realized that the place was pretty high you got up.

As if you were in trace you climbed on the grid to stand a bit higher.

,,Good bye my love….’’ you mumbled to yourself while you tried to lean your body over the grid.

You were sure that you would die, fall down and crash on the place below you but Zen destroyed your plan.

With a strong pull you were between his arms on the cold floor.

His strong arms made it impossible for you to free yourself from his embrace.

His head was laying on your neck while you felt his warm tears.

,,Why…..?’’ he asked you and cried harder.

,,BECAUSE YOU WANTED TO LEAVE ME AND I THOUGHT I WAS HOLDING YOU BACK! I JUST WANTED TO DISAPPEAR!’’ you yelled as your tears soaked your own shirt.

,,DON’T DARE I LOVE YOU….!’’ Zen responded.

When the two of you finally calmed down and rushed in to not disturb the neighbors.

Zen destroyed his contract while he talked to your doctor.

He first wanted to make sure that you would get better.

Yoosung

,,RIKA RIKA RIKA! ARE YOU FUCKING BROKEN DISK?!’’ you yelled at your husband as you glared at him.

,,YOU’RE THE SAME BY THE WAY! YOU’RE ALWAYS REPEATING THAT I TALK ABOUT MY DEAD COUSIN!’’ he yelled back from a big distance.

You immediately stepped closer to him.

,,Don’t dare!’’ you snapped.

,,Oh please, don’t give me this kind of look! You will probably say that I never did anything for you. Don’t lie, Mc. Because we both know that in this marriage I’m the only one who’s in love!’’

,,WHAT?! ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO YOURSELF?!’’ you asked him after you heard his idiotic words.

,,Come on! I even hurt myself for you!’’ he responded.

This was enough for you.

You couldn’t bear this anymore.

You could already imagine why he was thinking like this. You were out a lot these days.

But it wasn’t because you weren’t in love anymore but because you had regular check ups with your doctor.

You simply didn’t want to worry him but it seemed that this act of you made him loose his faith for you.

You decided to stop the play here and escaped the hell.

You just wanted to show him how much you loved him.

Behind your back you still heard him yelling to stay here but you ignored him.

Instead you wrote him a letter and decided to just shallow the whole ten portions of sleeping pills the doctor gave you.

You really hoped that these sleeping pills would bring the wished effect.

And your wish became real, or at least it felt so.

A few seconds later you woke up in a completely withe room with Yoosung by your side who was holding a pink paper in his hands, your letter.

,,Why are you crying?’’ you asked him.

His perplexed red eyes scared you a bit.

,,You know that if your cry a lot your eyes turn out red….’’ you mumbled and in the next moment you felt his warmth.

,,You slept for almost two days…..I was so worried that you would die on me, Mc….’’ he sobbed harder.

,,I’m sorry for what I did and said, it’s my fault, please don’t do this again….don’t try to kill yourself…..please!’’

Of course you realized that you had your faults too and that’s why you could become better, together with Yoosung and professional help.

Jaehee

You smelled the metallic odor as the razor cut your flesh.

Tears streamed down your face as you remembered the discussion you just had with your girlfriend.

It all happened because of a customer who was simply unhappy.

You knew that you still did your best but Jaehee and you kept on with your discussion until the both of you were yelling at each other.

,,I DON‘T UNDERSTAND HOW JUMIN COULD BE SAD BY LOSING YOU!“ you yelled and immediately regretted your words.

But not only you caused pain with your sharp words.

Jaehee made you feel unloved in that very moment and so it came that you decided to hurt yourself just to decide to die a few minutes later.

Although you couldn’t go on with your plan.

The young woman stopped you before you could cut your wrist.

Her tears dropped on your hands and got mixed with your blood while you soaked her hands.

Her sobbing noises was the only thing which filled the room.

With her trembling hands she tried to stop the blood.

,,I‘m sorry.“ she repeated over and over.

,,Me too…“ you mumbled before your head collapsed on her chest, resting on it for quite a while.

A few months later your suicidal thoughts almost completely disappeared.

Jaehee was still afraid leaving you on your own but you did your best to gain her trust back while undergoing treatment.

Saeyoung

,,I SWEAR TO GOD SAEYOUNG IT WASN’T ME!’’ you yelled as Saeyoung looked at his scratched car.

,,Are you kidding me? You’re the only one who’s allowed to drive my favorite car AND IT WASN’T ME SO IT’S YOU!’’ Saeyoung kept accusing you.

Your face turned red from the anger as your boyfriend kept accusing you.

,,It…wasn’t….me!’’ you repeated and turned away.

,,YES, JUST GO!’’ he yelled behind your back.

You slammed your door behind your back as you sat on your chair and began to cry loudly.

It really wasn’t you but your boyfriend wouldn’t trust you.

It made you so sad, none had really faith in you, right?

,,Why is it always me who get’s the pain and accusations?!’’ you groaned as you tried to stop sobbing.

You remembered about your past and realized that you were always the source of all problems.

Everyone kept blaming things on you.

With your boyfriend now nothing changed and so you came to a hurtful conclusion.

,,It’s my fault, so I will take the consequences.’’

It didn’t take long until you knotted a rope around the lamp.

While your trembling legs climbed on the chair you tried to knot the rope around your throat to finally stop this crazy circle.

Your boyfriend instead tried to find out if you were really lying.

While looking at the hidden videos in his garage he found out that Zen scratched the car while carrying his beer when he visited you guys.

,,Shit…I need to say sorry….’’ he mumbled and looked at the closed door.

Saeyoung waited a bit until he heard a thud.

An odd feeling overcame him as he approached the still closed door.

He pressed down the handle and looked at your shaking body.

Your body was hanging on a rope while your eyes flacked a while.

Saeyoung reacted in seconds, grabbing your legs to pick you up so that you could breath but everything seemed too late.

Support took incredebily long as Saeyoung cried for your life.

,,I’m sorry, I love you, I was wrong, forgive me…..please please please wake up and don’t die on me, please….’’

Saeran

Your relationship was wonderful, almost creepy if you look at the perfection.

The perfect couple, that’s what everyone else called you.

But you weren’t that perfect.

You weren’t that happy although with Saeran by your side this feeling got surpressed.

Just today your depression was hitting you a bit more.

And out of all days Saeran and you had to argue today.

By now you already forgot why you were angry at him.

Everything what you knew was that you were currently approaching the storming sea.

Your last strength let you go on as your feet touched the cold water.

Nothing mattered to you anymore, you just wanted to die.

Die, die alone, just to leave.

,,Ufff…’’ you gasped as you couldn’t feel the sand anymore.

Your legs gave up, you just couldn’t swim anymore as your body got heavy.

Your head slowly dissapeared and your lungs got filled with the salty water.

So, this is your end, isn’t it? You thought as you closed your eyes.

,,MC! MC! MMMMMCCCC!’’ someone called you.

You however were unable to response to this voice.

,,HAAAAAAAAHUUUUU!’’ you puked as your head was exposed to the cold air.

Someone dragged you out of the water as you kept throwing up salty water.

,,MC! OI MC!’’ someone called you over and over as you tried to breath.

The sand got all over your body as you tried to open your eyes.

,,Don’t die here….’’ Saeran cried as he massaged your heart.

,,I…want to….die….’’ you chocked again before he breaked down on your chest.

Jihyun

,,Are you kidding me?’’ you asked him as he calmly looked at you.

,,No, I’m not.’’ he answered as he looked at the chats.

,,You were simply wrong that’s why I defended Yoosung instead of you.’’ your husband explained.

,,Are you sure that you were definding Yoosung and not Rika?!’’ you snapped at him as you tried to read out his expression.

,,Yes, I’m sure. Why are you always talking about Rika?’’ he answered and asked you at the same time.

,,Because you still love her after everything she did?!’’ you responded and looked away.

,,That’s not true-‚‘’ he tried to explain but you stopped him.

,,Ah, then please explain to me what Yoosung said that he deserves your acknowledge.’’ you laughed.

Just like you expected he was unable to answer you, making you leave.

He didn’t even call you.

You slammed the door and began to curse everything.

,,DAMN YOU!’’ you yelled.

You weren’t like this.

You actually decided to forgive Rika for everything but this time Jihyun just crossed the line.

He left your heart broken, your eyes looked at the outsied in trance as you thought about your relationship.

It wasn’t that great like you imagined.

It wasn’t what you thought it would be like.

Maybe you should just end everything?

Everything…..

You didn’t think that you were actually that brave to just stab yourself with the knife you found.

Bad thought haunted you as you closed your eyes and tried to kill yourself just to feel a strong hindrance.

When you opened your eyes Jihyun was holding the blade.

His scared eyes made you shriek back.

His blood was dripping on the floor as he let go of the knife.

,,Mc…..’’ he mumbled, approached you and began to painfully cry with you.

MASTERLIST 1MASTERLIST 2

12.05.’19// 23:03 (yes stayed up late for you on a Sunday) MEST

Tagged:

@foreversunshine-love @giulia2372 @milkyxstrawberry

@widya345 @remiliadacalde @sailormoonrocks666 @r-f-a-journalists

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greatshell-rider · 4 years

Text

day twenty-four of quARTine: parent (prompt list)

Jerry missed peanut butter. He missed a lot of things from Earth, but after visiting dozens of planets and browsing through dozens more betwixt markets, he’d found suitable replacements for most stuff—a lot of it cooler, truthfully, with magics or technologies from thousands of ’scapes woven into every fabric and material.

But he had yet to find a foodstuff even sort of close to peanut butter. And he missed it.

Jerry shoved his hands in his hoodie pouch, the shopping bag dangling from his elbow as he wandered through the aisles of the store. A scrunched-up paper in his hand got steadily sweatier, each item on the list of requests from Lani and Cindy scratched off. The bag on his arm was full. He had no reason to stay at Stuff? Food? You Decide! any longer.

He paused by a shelf stocked with jars of “sliknut spread”. The containers were clear, revealing the creamy golden-brown spread inside, and each had a patterned bow tied around its lid. He reached for a pink-bowed one, but hesitated. Then shook his head and headed for the clerk’s counter. He paid with a handful of fingernail-sized crystals left over from the last ’scape.

The clerk eyed them skeptically. “Jastners?” they asked in Wide.

Jerry shrugged. “Think so.”

“Eh.” They dropped the crystals in the tin. “Thank you for shopping at Stuff? Food? You Decide! on Vaspin’s. Tell your friends about us, and have a nice day.”

“You too,” Jerry said, but the clerk was already shifting on their stool to greet the next customer. He grabbed his sword from the bin—leaving behind a small mace and bandolier of smoke bombs—and switched the grocery bag to his other arm as he left the shop. The enchanted wooden gecko engraven over the door yawped his departure, just as it had when he’d entered.

It was raining still, so Jerry put up his hood and drudged down the street, not caring that he splashed through muddy puddles or that rainwater dripped onto the unprotected groceries. Not many people were out, and he soon left the town, so it was quiet but for the sound of rain as he walked. The scenery was pretty enough—the road was bordered by a white picket fence, separating it from gentle rolling hills blanketed with turquoise coral-like plants—but Jerry felt his mood darkening the longer he walked. Earth’s rain didn’t react aggressively against his skin, leaving nasty green boils wherever a drop hit. The more he thought about it, the more he realized how much this planet sucked.

You suck, he thought at it, kicking a pebble of the same turquoise from the fields down the road.

He could imagine Lani’s smug retort. Salty you don’t align to its magic, aren’t you? Which, of course, she could say, since she aligned perfectly and could send large objects flying with just her mind. Typical.

By the time he reached the two-storied cottage with roof tiles made of that weird turquoise-coral whatever, Jerry had mud streaked up to his knees and a minor headache—another of this ’scape’s fun little side effects it gave him; something to do with the particle composition in the atmosphere’s lower layers or some crap, according to Lani—and would’ve rathered to brawl a Nellio in one of their lava pits than deal with anyone. Unfortunately, Lani was sitting at the table when he came in, building a house out of cards with her newly-learned telekinesis. House was inaccurate, really. His sister started on a third tower of her castle as he kicked off his boots.

“Is it raining again?” she asked, too innocently, though the patter of raindrops could clearly be heard and seen on the windows.

Jerry said nothing, dropping the groceries on the tabletop.

A mistake. At his silence, Lani turned in her chair to face him, a smile spreading across her face as she set her elbow on the backrest and rested her cheek against her fist. “Did someone have a hard time in town today?” she lamented in a babyish tone. “No one told you how cool your sword is?”

Jerry stomped up the stairs.

“Oh no, now I’ve upset him too—Hey, don’t forget you’re also making dinner!”

He reached the door and slammed it shut behind him harder than necessary. The room was empty, and there he let out a tight, angry breath. That left him feeling drained, his headache even worse now, and he dropped wearily onto his cot of the three, setting his sword down beside him. Maybe he would just sleep the rest of the day away, try to forget, since he’d already failed at not remembering.

But as he bent to pull off his socks, he saw his small pile of belongings by the foot of the cot, and laying atop his change of clothes, a flower. It had yellow petals and a brown disk, very similar to an Earth sunflower. When he picked it up, however, the petals shifted to a lavender hue and the disk a sickly white. Jerry scowled, crushing the flower in his fist and throwing it aside. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, fists clenching and unclenching as he breathed in and out, in and out. His headache pounded. Even after counting to fifty, then back down to zero, he nearly went down the stairs to confront Lani about that thing. It had to have been her. It had to. Who else? Who else, after all these years, after all they’d been through, who else—

A rap on the window. Jerry looked up. Cindy’s face stared back on the other side of the glass. Ze beckoned him over, then motioned for him to open the window. He did so, expecting zir to clamber in, but ze instead turned and walked down the slanted roof of the cowshed without a word, probably thinking he would follow.

“Cindy,” he called zir, “I don’t have shoes.” The rain didn’t react strangely to zir skin, so ze was free to go as barefoot as ze wanted, but Jerry less so.

“You’re already wet.” Ze crouched and, gripping the edge of the roof, swung zirself down to the ground before Jerry could reply. Ze stepped into the shed and out of view.

Jerry wavered, looking over his shoulder at the door leading downstairs. A part of him wanted to stay stubbornly inside the room, to curl up on his cot and refuse to move or speak until Lani came up and apologized. . . . Well, she would never do that, except to mock him. But he could make her make her own dinner. It would serve her right. Today of all days . . .

But Jerry couldn’t stay in this room for a second longer. Not upstairs. With his socks still on, he balled his fists in the hoodie’s long sleeves and hopped through the window. It didn’t matter if his clothes got soaked and got his skin damp. For some reason, only falling raindrops caused the boils. So, though his socks got unpleasantly soggy, Jerry was able to carefully slide down the tiles to the edge of the roof and copy Cindy’s move, swinging himself down. He padded into the cowshed, which was really just a second, shorter roof protruding from the back of the cottage propped up on stilts. Currently it only sheltered a single scrawny goat, the only animal they’d found for sell in town. In theory she gave milk, but so far had only eaten absurd amounts of hay that beguiled her skinny frame. Right now, she was nibbling on grain cupped in Cindy’s palm, and gave Jerry a distrustful stare with a single dark eye as he walked in.

He ignored her, putting his back to a post and sliding down until he was sitting. Though the roof blocked the rain, he kept his hood up.

For a while, Cindy said nothing. When the goat finished off the grain, ze grabbed a brush and sat cross-legged. The goat settled right down and laid her head in zir lap, eyes drifting half-shut as Cindy moved the brush down her back in long, steady strokes. Jerry rested his chin on his drawn-up knees, watching the strangely hypnotic scene, listening to the rain beat against the turquoise-tile roof. He sniffled quietly and crossed his arms over his knees, burying his nose into the sleeves of his hoodie. The specific garment was surprisingly common across the ’scapes, so Jerry had frequent access to them, but he had yet to find one exactly like Earth’s. Something about the fabric, the dye or material or design, just wasn’t right. He ran his thumb idly down a seam. Maybe it was just the scent. Nothing like mass-produced Walmart brands, right?

Cindy hummed, and Jerry realized he’d spoken aloud.

“Nothing,” he mumbled. “Just . . . Just feeling nostalgic I guess.” But that wasn’t right. This mix of sadness and anger, of guilt, of despair, of pain, it wasn’t something as whimsical as nostalgia. Jerry didn’t know if it could be defined with one word.

He fidgeted, picking at a ball of fuzz on the sleeve. “It’s just.” He huffed. Tried again. “Shopping today, surrounded by stuff, by foods that are familiar, but not the same, I just—” He cut himself off. There was a long pause. Jerry buried his face completely into his sleeves, hands sliding up underneath his hood to grip his hair.

“I miss it,” he said, voice muffled. “I miss it so bad, Cindy.”

He thought he was too angry for tears. But there they were, burning at his eyes. At least his hoodie was already wet, right? No one could tell. No one knew.

“It’s your home,” Cindy said.

“It is,” Jerry said angrily, swiping his arm across his face then scrubbing his knuckles at his eyes. “It’s not perfect, of course it isn’t. Yes there’s loads of planets and ’scapes without corrupt governments or decade-long wars or, or, or climate change, but it’s still mine! It’s had everything I’ve ever wanted.” He sighed, because that wasn’t true either. That’s why he and Lani had started the whole thing, wasn’t it? They’d wanted more. And in the process, they’d lost everything.

Jerry dropped his head into his hands. He pressed his fingers hard against his closed eyes, though it made his head hurt more. “Do you know what day it is?” he asked Cindy, his voice croaky.

In zir silence, he imagined zir shaking zir head.

“My mom’s birthday.” He swallowed, his mouth and throat dry. “And the anniversary.”

That made him laugh, a harsh, bitter bark. “Anniversary,” he sneered. “Like it’s something to celebrate.” His hands dropped to dangle over his knees, and he stared sightlessly at the straw-strayed dirt. “Maybe for the slavers.”

He swallowed again, knowing he had to say it and hating himself for it. “It’s my fault, you know,” he said. It came out in a hoarse whisper. He tried to clear his throat, but it didn’t do any good. “My fault. Partly, sure. Lani and I both did it. But it is. My—”

He hadn’t noticed Cindy moving until ze was suddenly next to him, extending an arm across his shoulders. Ze said nothing, but pulled him close in a hug. At first Jerry resisted, going stiff in zir embrace, and Cindy started to loosen zir grip and pull away. That shot a spike of panic through Jerry’s heart and he slumped, burying his face into zir shoulder. He started crying again, quietly, as he’d learned to do in the trench, and Cindy held his shaking body tight.

“I miss her,” he sobbed, “and it’s my fault.”

He thought ze would say something, some trite phrase that was supposed to be comforting, supposed to resemble her, but ze didn’t. Ze rested zir chin atop his head and began to sing. A soft, lilting melody, haunting in the rainshower’s murmur. Jerry had heard the song before. Once, Cindy had told him it was the lullaby her parents had sung together when ze was a toddler, to help zir fall asleep. It was the same song they’d whispered into zir ear before sending zir away.

The rain continued to drizzle.

#quARTine #writing #my writing #Lani & Jerry #i saw the prompt and was immediately like heheheheh i know what im going to write #wrote this sunday actually but haven't been able to post until now #and now i have nothing else to procrastinate with. gotta go write that essay now huh 😔

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programmingisterrible · 4 years

Text

Scaling in the presence of errors—don’t ignore them

Building a reliable, robust service often means building something that can keep working when some parts fail. A website where not every feature is available is often better than a website that’s entirely offline. Doing this in a meaningful way is not obvious.

The usual response is to hire more DBAs, more SREs, and even more folk in Support. Error handling, or making software that can recover from faults, often feels like the option of last resort—if ever considered in the first place.

The usual response to error handling is optimism. Unfortunately, the other choices aren’t exactly clear, and often difficult to choose from too. If you have two services, what do you do when one of them is offline: Try again later? Give up entirely? Or just ignore it and hope the problem goes away?

Surprisingly, all of these can be reasonable approaches. Even ignoring problems can work out for some systems. Sort-of. You don’t get to ignore errors, but sometimes recovering from an error can look very similar to ignoring it.

Imagine an orchard filled with wireless sensors for heat, light, and moisture. It makes little sense to try and resend old temperature readings upon error. It isn’t the sensor’s job to ensure the system works, and there’s very little a sensor can do about it, too. As a result, it’s pretty reasonable for a sensor to send messages with wild abandon—or in other words, fire-and-forget.

The idea behind fire-and-forget is that you don’t need to save old messages when the next message overrides it, or when a missing message will not cause problems. A situation where each message is treated as being the first message sent—forgetting that any attempt was made prior.

Done well, fire-and-forget is like a daily meeting—if someone misses the meeting, they can turn up the next day. Done badly, fire-and-forget is akin to replacing email with shouting across the office, hoping that someone else will take notes.

It isn’t that there’s no error handling in a fire-and-forget client, it’s that the best method of recovery is to just keep going. Unfortunately, people often misinterpret fire-and-forget to mean “avoid any error handling and hoping for the best”.

You don’t get to ignore errors.

When you ignore errors, you only put off discovering them—it’s not until another problem is caused that anyone even realises something has gone wrong. When you ignore errors, you waste time that could be spent recovering from them.

This is why, despite the occasional counter example, the best thing to do when encountering an error is to give up. Stop before you make anything worse and let something else handle it.

Giving up is a surprisingly reasonable approach to error handling, assuming something else will try to recover, restart, or resume the program. That’s why almost ever network service gets run in a loop—restarting immediately upon crashing, hoping the fault was transient. It often is.

There’s little point in trying to repeatedly connect to a database when the user is already mashing refresh in the browser. A unix pipeline could handle every possible bad outcome, but more often than not, running the program again makes everything work.

Although giving up is a good way to handle errors, restarting from scratch isn’t always the best way to recover from them.

Some pipelines work on large volumes or data, or do arduous amounts of numerical processing, and no-one is ever happy about repeating days or weeks or work. In theory, you could add error handling code, reduce the risk that the program will crash, and avoid an expensive restart, but in practice it’s often easier to restructure code to carry on where it left off.

In other words, give up, but save your progress to make restarting less time consuming.

For a pipeline, this usually entails a awful lot of temporary files—to save the output of each subcommand, and the result of splitting the input up into smaller batches. You can even retry things automatically, but for a lot of pipelines, manual recovery is still relatively inexpensive.

For other long running processes, this usually means something like checkpoints, or sagas. Or in other words, transforming a long running process into a short running one that’s run constantly, writing out the progress it makes to some file or database somewhere.

Over time, every long running process will get broken up into smaller parts, as restarting from scratch becomes prohibitively expensive. A long running process is just that more likely to run into an impossible error—full disks, no free memory, cosmic rays—and be forced to give up.

Sometimes the only way to handle an error is to give up.

As a result, the best way to handle errors is to structure your program to make recovery easier. Recovery is what makes all the difference between “fire-and-forget” and “ignoring-every-error” despite sharing the same optimism.

You can do things that look like ignoring errors, or even letting something else handle it, as long as there’s a plan to recover from them. Even if it’s restarting from scratch, even if it’s waking someone up at night, as long as there’s some plan, then you aren’t ignoring the problem. Assuming the plan works, that is.

You don’t get to ignore errors. They’re inevitably someone’s problem. If someone tells you they can ignore errors, they’re telling you someone else is on-call for their software.

That, or they’re using a message broker.

A message broker, if you’re not sure, is a networked service that offers a variety of queues that other computers on the network can interact with. Usually some clients enqueue messages, and others poll for the next unread message, but they can be used in a variety of other configurations too.

Like with a unix pipe, message brokers are used to get software off the ground. Similarly to using temporary files, the broker allows for different parts of the pipeline to consume and produce inputs at different rates, but don’t easily allow replaying or restarting when errors occur.

Like a unix pipe, message brokers are used in a very optimistic fashion. Firing messages into the queue and moving on to the next task at hand.

Somewhat like a unix pipeline, but with some notable differences. A unix pipeline blocks when full, pausing the producer until the consumer can catch up. A unix pipeline will exit if any of the subcommands exit, and return an error if the last subcommand failed.

A message broker does not block the producer until the consumer can catch up. In theory, this means transient errors or network issues between components don’t bring the entire system down. In practice, the more queues you have in a pipeline, the longer it takes to find out if there’s a problem.

Sometimes that works out. When there’s no growth, brokers act like a buffer between parts of a system, handling variance in load. They work well at slowing bursty clients down, and can provide a central point for auditing or access control.

When there is growth, queues explode regularly until some form of rate limiting appears. When more load arrives, queues are partitioned, and then repartitioned. Scaling a broker inevitably results in moving to something where the queue is bounded, or even ephemeral.

The problem with optimism is that when things do go wrong, not only do you have no idea how to fix it, you don’t even know what went wrong. To some extent, a message broker hides errors—programs can come and go as they please, and there’s no way to tell if the other part is still reading your messages—but it can only hide errors for so long.

In other words, fire-and-regret.

Although an unbounded queue is a tempting abstraction, it rarely lives up to the mythos of freeing you from having to handle errors. Unlike a unix pipeline, a message broker will always fill up your disks before giving up, and changing things to make recovery easy isn’t as straight forward as adding more temporary files.

Brokers can only recover from one error—a temporary network outage—so other mechanisms get brought in to compensate. Timeouts, retries, and sometimes even a second “priority” queue, because head-of-line blocking is genuinely terrible to deal with. Even then, if a worker crashes, messages can still get dropped.

Queues rarely help with recovery. They frequently impede it.

Imagine a build pipeline, or background job service where requests are dumped into some queue with wild abandon. When something breaks, or isn’t running like it is supposed to, you have no idea where to start recovery.

With a background queue, you can’t tell what jobs are currently being run right now. You can’t tell if something’s being retried, or failed, but maybe you’ve got log files you can search through. With logs, you can see what the system was doing a few minutes ago, but you still have no idea what it might be doing right now.

Even if you know the size of a queue, you’ll have to check the dashboard a few minutes later—to see if the line wiggled—before you know for sure if things are probably working. Hopefully.

Making a build pipeline with queues is relatively easy, but building one that the user can cancel, or watch, involves a lot more work. As soon as you want to cancel a task, or inspect a task, you need to keep things somewhere other than a queue.

Knowing what a program is up to means tracking the in-between parts, and even for something as simple as running a background task, it can involve many states—Created, Enqueued, Processing, Complete, Failed, not just Enqueued—and a broker only handles that last part.

Not very well. As soon as one queue feeds into another, an item of work can be in several different queues at once. If an item is missing from the queue, you know it’s either being dropped or processed, if an item is in the queue, you don’t know if it’s being processed, but you do know it will be. A queue doesn’t just hide errors, it hides state too.

Recovery means knowing what state the program was in before things went wrong, and when you fire-and-forget into a queue, you give up on knowing what happens to it. Handling errors, recovering from errors, means building software that can knows what state it is currently operating in. It also means structuring things to make recovery possible.

That, or you give up on on automated recovery of almost any kind. In some ways, I’m not arguing against fire-and-forget, or against optimism—but against optimism that prevents recovery. Not against queues, but how queues inevitably get used.

Unfortunately, recovery is relatively easy to imagine but not necessarily straight forward to implement.

This is why some people opt to use a replicated log, instead of a message broker.

If you’ve never used a replicated log, imagine an append only database table without a primary key, or a text file with backups, and you’re close. Or imagine a message broker, but instead of enqueue and dequeue, you can append to the log or read from the log.

Like a queue, a replicated log can be used in a fire-and-forget fashion with not so great consequences. Just like before, chaos will ensue as concepts like rate-limiting, head-of-line blocking, and the end-to-end-principle are slowly contended with—If you use a replicated log like a queue, it will fail like a queue.

Unlike a queue, a replicated log can aid recovery.

Every consumer sees the same log entries, in the same order, so it’s possible to recover by replaying the log, or by catching up on old entries. In some ways it’s more like using temporary files instead of a pipeline to join things together, and the strategies for recovery overlap with temporary files, too—like partitioning the log so that restarts aren’t as expensive.

Like temporary files, a replicated log can aid in recovery, but only to a certain point. A consumer will see the same messages, in the same order, but if a entry gets dropped before reaching the log, or if entries arrive in the wrong order, some, or potentially all hell can break loose.

You can’t just fire-and-forget into a log, not over a network. Although a replicated log is ordered, it will preserve the ordering it gets, whatever that happens to be.

This isn’t always a problem. Some logs are used to capture analytic data, or fed into aggregators, so the impact of a few missing or out of order entries is relatively low—a few missing entries might as well be called high-volume random sampling and declared a non-issue.

For other logs, missing entries could cause untold misery. Recovering from missing entries might involve rebuilding the entire log from scratch. If you’re using a replicated log for replication, you probably care quite a lot about the order of log entries.

Like before, you can’t ignore errors—you only make things expensive to recover from.

Handling errors like out of order or missing log entries means being able to work out when they have occurred.

This is more difficult than you might imagine.

Take two services, a primary and a secondary, both with databases, and imagine using a replicated log to copy changes from one to another.

It doesn’t seem to difficult at first. Every time the primary service makes a change to the database, it writes to to log. The secondary reads from the log, and updates its database. If the primary service is a single process, it’s pretty easy to ensure that every message is sent in the right order. When there’s more than one writer, things can get rather involved.

Now, you could switch things around—write to the log first, then apply the changes to the database, or use the database’s log directly—and avoid the problem altogether, but these aren’t always an option. Sometimes you’re forced to handle the problem of ordering the entries yourself.

In other words, you’ll need to order the messages before writing them to the log.

You could let something else provide the order, but you’d be mistaken if you think a timestamp would help. Clocks move forwards and backwards and this can cause all sorts of headaches.

One of the most frustrating problems with timestamps is ‘doomstones’: when a service deletes a key but has a wonky clock far out in the future, and issues an event with a similar timestamp. All operations get silently dropped until the deletion event is cleared. The other problem with timestamps is that if you have two entries, one after the other, you can’t tell if there are any entries that came between them.

Things like “Hybrid Logical Clocks”, or even atomic clocks can help to narrow down clock drift, but only so much. You can only narrow down the window of uncertainty, there’s still some clock skew. Again, clocks will go forwards and backwards—timestamps are terrible for ordering things precisely.

In practice you need explicit version numbers, 1,2,3... etc, or a unique identifier for each version of each entry, and a link back to the record being updated, to order messages.

With a version number, messages can be reordered, missing messages can be detected, and both can be recovered from, although managing and assigning those version numbers can be quite difficult in practice. Timestamps are still useful, if only for putting things in a human perspective, but without a version number, it’s impossible to know what precise order things happened in—and that no steps are missing, either.

You don’t get to ignore errors, but sometimes the error handling code isn’t that obvious.

Using version numbers or even timestamps both fall under building a plan for recovery. Building something that can continue to operate in the presence of failure. Unfortunately, building something that works when other parts fail is one of the more challenging parts of software engineering.

It doesn’t help that doing the same thing in the same order is so difficult that people use terms like causality and determinism to make the point sink in.

You don’t get to ignore errors, but no one said it was going to be easy.

Although using things like replicated logs, message brokers, or even using unix pipes can allow you to build prototypes, clear demonstrations of how your software works—they do not free you from the burden of handling errors.

You can’t avoid error handling code, not at scale.

The secret to error handling at scale isn’t giving up, ignoring the problem, or even it trying again—it is structuring a program for recovery, making errors stand out, allowing other parts of the program to make decisions.

Techniques like fail-fast, crash-only-software, process supervision, but also things like clever use of version numbers, and occasionally the odd bit of statelessness or idempotence. What these all have in common is that they’re all methods of recovery.

Recovery is the secret to handling errors. Especially at scale.

Giving up early so other things have a chance, continuing on so other things can catch up, restarting from a clean state to try again, saving progress so that things do not have to be repeated.

That, or put it off for a while. Buy a lot of disks, hire a few SREs, and add another graph to the dashboard.

The problem with scale is that you can’t approach it with optimism. As the system grows, it needs redundancy, or to be able to function in the presence of partial errors or intermittent faults. Humans can only fill in so many gaps.

Staff turnover is the worst form of technical debt.

Writing robust software means building systems that can exist in a state of partial failure (like incomplete output), and writing resilient software means building systems that are always in a state of recovery (like restarting)—neither come from engineering the happy path of your software.

When you ignore errors, you transform them into mysteries to solve. Something or someone else will have to handle them, and then have to recover from them—usually by hand, and almost always at great expense.

The problem with avoiding error handling in code is that you’re only avoiding automating it.

In other words, the trick to scaling in the presence of errors is building software around the notion of recovery. Automated recovery.

That, or burnout. Lots of burnout. You don’t get to ignore errors.

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prepare4trouble · 5 years

Text

Good Omens fanfic - Looking Like This (3)

Part 1 | Part 2

The Bentley really was back.

It wasn’t that Crowley hadn’t believed Aziraphale; after all, he had seen the bookshop, whole and unburnt, when it should have been a charred mess cordoned off and still damp from the hoses that had been used to extinguish the fire. He knew things had been put back more or less the way they had been before the aborted apocalypse had taken place, but it was that ‘more or less’ part that had been bothering him.

Aziraphale wasn’t exactly known for his automobile expertise; until sometime in the mid 60s he had still been referring to cars as ‘horseless carriages’ on occasion. He could have missed all kinds of discrepancies with the Bentley that Crowley would have picked up on instantly.

And so, until the taxi had dropped the two of them off outside Crowley’s flat, it had still been difficult to believe that the car that he had loved and taken care of for so many years; the car that he had purposely driven through the wall of flame that was the M25, and that he had held together through sheer force of will the whole way to Tadfield; the car that he had been convinced he had lost forever, was really back.

He might have gasped. Just a little bit.

“I did tell you,” Aziraphale said with a smug but very happy smile that looked completely out of place on the face he was currently wearing.

Crowley touched his fingertips to the black paint and caressed the bonnet lovingly. “Yeah, I know,” he said. “But it was hard to believe it until I saw it with my own two…” he hesitated. They weren’t his own two eyes, they were Aziraphale’s. “Anyway,” he said. “You’ll get it when you see the bookshop.”

The car looked brand new; fresh off the factory floor. The paintwork gleamed in the sun in a way that it hadn’t for decades. For ninety years, Crowley had been looking after that car, carefully miracling away every scratch and bump, keeping the water and oil at optimum levels — without actually having to check them or top them up, of course — and once, because he had wanted the full car owner’s experience, even washing it by hand on a Sunday morning. He hadn’t enjoyed that very much, although there had been something oddly satisfying about polishing the paintwork afterwards.

Still, over the years it had aged in subtle ways. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was, but there was a newness to the car now that hadn’t been there last week; something that he recognized from a long time ago. He wasn’t sure he liked it. Age had lent the car a certain kind of dignity that Crowley feared it might take a couple of decades to get back. Right now, it felt like something out of a period drama; not quite authentic.

He doubted that anybody else would notice.

He opened the door and slipped inside. It even smelled like a new car. Not like a new car now; all chemicals and plastics and pine scented air freshener. No, it smelled like an old new car. Like a new car was supposed to smell. He inhaled deeply, and touched the steering wheel reverently.

He noted with interest that the car was already fitted with a CD player. It wasn’t actually brand new, then; those hadn’t exactly been fitted as standard when he had first bought the car. Over the years, he had made changes, adding first a radio, then a tape player, and finally — when cassettes became hard to come by and all the music he had ever loved had been transformed into Queen — he had miracled in a CD player and started buying it again in a new format.

There was something else too. He frowned as he leaned in to get a closer look. Two USB ports were built into the dashboard, looking as though they were supposed to be there, and the display on a screen that definitely hadn’t existed the last time he had been in the car, said something about ‘bluetooth’.

“What’s a bluetooth?” he asked.

Aziraphale, still standing outside the car at the driver’s side, shrugged. “Is it some kind of fish?” he asked. “Or perhaps a whale?”

Crowley shook his head. It sounded like it could be right, but something like that had no place anywhere near a car. Especially a car of this quality. “Yeah maybe.” He had been thinking it was something to do with mobile phones. “Are you getting in, angel? Or are you planning on standing in the middle of the road all day? I thought you wanted to see your books.”

“Oh! Right.” Aziraphale hurried around the front of the car and clambered in.

Crowley put the key in the ignition, but didn’t turn it. He hesitated. Something else was different too. The car was the wrong size. The pedals were that little bit too far so that he had to stretch his legs to reach them, and a glance in the rear view mirror showed that it was angled slightly wrong. In fact, everything seemed that little bit off. He fumbled for the lever to move the seat.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Aziraphale look at him. “Problem?” he asked

“No,” Crowley insisted, grinding his… Aziraphale’s… teeth a little. “Nope, no problem at all.”

He couldn’t find it. It occurred to him that he had never had to adjust anything in the car before; it had always just fit him perfectly.

He moved the mirror; that at least was easy, then swept a hand along the side and then the front of his seat. Nothing. “You’re too short for my car,” he said.

“I beg your pardon?” Aziraphale said. He sounded mildly offended.

“I mean…” Crowley waved a hand indicating the pedals of the car, then shook his head. “Your legs don’t… the seat’s too far… There should be a lever or a button or something around here to move the seat forward.”

“Really? In a car of this age?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley scowled at him, not sure exactly why the angel of all people — who as far as Crowley was aware had never even sat in the drivers seat of a car, let alone driven anywhere — would have the first clue about the features that cars of different ages should have. He was right though. Crowley wasn’t sure whether he had simply been lucky with the car before, or whether he had unconsciously made changes to make it more comfortable to drive, but there probably wouldn’t have been any real way to move the seats around back then.

Well, that was easy enough to fix. He turned the key in the ignition, then reached down the side of the seat again. His fingers immediately found a switch that hadn’t been there a moment earlier. He slid it forward and the seat moved to the correct position. “Yeah, really,” he said. He put the car into gear, pulled out into the quiet road and a nice, steady 70mph.

“You changed your music,” Aziraphale noted.

Crowley listened. Aziraphale was right; it wasn’t Queen. He turned up the volume a little. “Must be the radio,” he said. But it wasn’t.

“No, I don’t think so,” Aziraphale told him. He opened the glove compartment and pulled out three other disks.

“Try something for me; put one of those in instead,” Crowley told him.

Without questioning the request, Aziraphale took out the first CD and replaced it with the other one. The first notes of Handel’s Water Music filled the car.

“This makes a pleasant change,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley shrugged, and swerved to narrowly avoid a cyclist. “I guess the CDs are as new as the car, technically they haven’t been in here long enough. Don’t get used to it, in about two weeks we’ll be listening to Another One Bites the Dust.”

But in the meantime, Aziraphale was right; it did make a nice change.

He squinted a little as he turned a corner into the sun. It seemed unusually bright today.

(part 4)

#good omens #good omens fanfic #crowley #aziraphale #oh look #it's that body swap fic that I still seem to be writing #I know nothing about cars #I hope that isn't too apparent here

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myheroaizawashota · 5 years

Text

Head Canon

Aizawa, Hizashi and Toshinori finding out their S/O has the most beautiful singing voice they've ever heard, followed by a lot of questions of why they've never been told before!

Aizawa:

Music never really interested him. In his eyes it was nothing but just a loud blur of noise, a distraction and interruption to his sleeping habits. You knew this though.....you had often found yourself playing music while waiting for your lover to arrive home from work. A few times Aizawa would come home and catch your record player blaring as the needle scratched its way across the round vinyl disks that held your favorite songs. He’d let a deep sigh shake past his lips and you knew it was time for the music to turn off, though you never took it in a hard way. You knew Aizawa worked hard all day listening to the screaming and nonsense of his 20 students, you always tried to accommodate his requests of peace and quiet when he arrived home.

Most days you only had the music playing while preparing dinner for the two of you in the kitchen, and most days you were very good about turning the music off when you heard the tumbling of his key in the door.

This day in particular though, you had gotten so engrossed in the music, you’d forgotten that your adored boyfriend would be staggering in any moment. You had began your nightly meal prep a little later than most nights, as you yourself had arrived back home later than anticipated. You gave a soft hum as the turn table began to rotate, one of your most beloved songs softly airing it’s way through the speakers.

A smile played on your lips as you stood in the kitchen fingers delicately but swiftly moving to chop the vegetables for tonight’s dinner. You adored this song very much. It was a song your grandfather used to sing when you were younger, it held a special place in your heart. As the sound of Elvis filled the room you took a deep inhale, your voice falling into harmony with the golden singer. This song held such significance in your life, as well as being a childhood favorite, over the years being involved with the pro hero gave you an even founder feeling towards the song. It captured every emotion you could ever have in regards to the rough around the edge stoic individual.

“Love me tender, love me sweet, never let me go. You have made my life complete, and I love you so.” The words fell so delicately past your lips, your back turning to the door so you could face the stove.

The vibrations of your voice sounded sinful and lust filled, your tone wavering on the line of alto. Your singing was airy and light as you continued to push the vegetables into the pot, you not even noticing when the living room door began to crack open. “ Love me tender, love me long, take me to your heart. For it's there that I belong, and we'll never part”

Aizawa’s eyes rose gently from the floor, his palms growing sweaty. Without breath, he closed the door softly in an attempt to stay unnoticed. He wasn’t a fan of music, not typically, but when that music was coming from your lips he tended to have a slightly different view.

So preoccupied you hadn't even realized when his slender fingers began to inch their way across the fabrics covering your abdomen. Your body flinched but as quickly as it flinched relaxed at the familiar touch and scent of your lovers musk. Immediately your face began to sting as your cheeks flushed red from embarrassment “ S-shouta....did you hear any of that?”

“Every last line.” he murmured eyes low lidded as he lazily pressed a kiss against your cheek “If you want, I wouldn't mind if you kept the music on.”

Your stomach fluttered as you leaned your body back against his. You had never seen him take such a liking to the music. It didn’t take long until Aizawa began to ask you to sing to him as he laid in your arms in the very little spare time he had. You couldn’t ever turn down such a soft tender request from this man. “Sing for me.” he’d ask eyes closed, body laid perfectly in your lap as your fingers pushed back the strands of black hair that fell in his face. As nightly routines went, you were glad this was the new norm.

Hizashi:

He was so happy when he found out your shared a love of music. For him the art of creation and expression was totally stellar and he was thrilled that he could share that feeling with the person he loved the most. Though you two could sometimes have very different loves and interests in music, you were both always happy to share your favorites with each other.

While Hizashi was always proud to share with you the music he mixed and created, you were never as quick to show the other any ounce of your talent. In all honesty, you had a minor case of stage fright when it came to performing or sharing your gift with others. You knew Hizashi would never make you feel bad about your talent, or what you saw as lack of, but still you were reluctant to share your voice with him. You weren’t even comfortable singing in front of your family, let alone your lover!

The only time you ever sang aloud and left yourself vulnerable for someone to listen in was during your nightly showers. You knew you had a tendency to shower perform, so you would always purposely schedule your showers for times when your other half wasn’t home. Today though, was Hizashi’s day off....so there would be no free time between yourself and him. You watched as your boyfriend lay unconscious on his stomach, arm dangling off the bed as soft breathes of air poured past his delicately parted lips. You turned to check the clock, figuring you’d have just about an hour before the other would wake up. You gave a soft hum and gathered your self from the shared bed, pressing a light kiss to his head before scampering off to the bathroom.

As quickly as you could, you began to disrobe and turn the water temperature to your preferred comfort setting. You leaned your head back and allowed the water to drip through your hair, humming at the warm sensation of the water hugging over the rest of your body. Before you knew it you had been standing there for at least 20 minutes, just standing and basking in the warmth of the water. It was around this time you couldn't help but hum out the tunes stuck rumbling around in your head from the day prior. You did your best to keep your humming to a low minim but before long you couldn’t help but belt the song into the open acoustics of the room, enjoying the way your voice bounced back from the walls of the bathroom allowing for you to hear your voice the way you liked to imagine it sounded. While your fingers lathered the shampoo through your dampened hair, your voice began to vibrate through the bathroom as you sang out “Sometimes it all gets a little too much But you gotta realize that soon the fog will clear up”

To your dismay, Hizashi had been awaken by the lack of presence in the bed next to him. As his body began to stretch and wake from sleep, his ears all but twitched when he heard the ruckus coming from the bathroom. His heart clenched in his chest as he gently made his way closer to the bathroom door, ear pressed against it as he listened in softly for a moment. “And you don't have to be afraid, because we're all the same and we know that sometimes it all gets a little too much”

His heart melted at the sound of your voice. It was the most beautiful sound he’d have ever heard, he was overwhelmed by just how much he loved the sound of your voice. Tears poked at the edges of his eyes as he rubbed them away with the back of his hand. With a gentle tap on the door he asked “Hey Y?N? Can I come in baby?”

Your heart stopped in your chest as you heard the tap on the door. Suddenly the steam and heat of the shower became to much, you moving to frantically turn it down as you stuttered your response to him “O-of course come on in”

He took note of the distress in your voice, he removing his own clothes before pulling the shower curtain back, kissing the space between your shoulders. “Please don't stop singing on my account......Your voice is beautiful....almost as beautiful as you. Keep going just pretend I’m not here”

Blush played on your cheek, while you wanted to be shy and tell him no, there was honestly no point. He had already heard you singing. With a sigh you steadied your breath and picked up the song where you left off. It was a relief in sense to finally have him hear your voice. From that point on you tended to hide it a lot less knowing he was always more than happy to hear you singing.

Toshinori:

Toshi took pride in knowing as much about his lover as he could. You meant the absolute most to him, so for him learning all he could about you only ever made him smile more and more with each discovery he made. He finally had convinced himself that there was nothing else he could learn about you, but you knew he was wrong. There’s one secret in your corner that your poor loving boyfriend had never known about. You weren't to keen on letting to many people know of your most private but passionate hobby.

Ever since you were young, you always wanted to be a musician, pro hero was the back up choice. Though, the older you’d gotten you were glad you came to your senses and pushed the path of pro hero way above the desire to become a musician. You were much more talented as a pro than you would have been a singer. Not to say your voice was terrible, but you could feel in your heart that being a hero was where you were meant to be. That didn't stop you from singing whenever you got the chance though. You did try to contain yourself though, you never tried to sing unless you felt you were alone. You didn't feel comfortable to share this talent of yours with anyone else. It was more a dirty little secret you hid away and professed your love to when you were alone.

Times like....well...now. You looked around the empty class room you sat in, your eyes darting from where you stood to the door way. This was Toshi’s class room, clearly he wasn't here. He had told you to meet him there for lunch. Since you were both employed by U.A as teachers, you had the luxury of sharing a lunch dates just about everyday. You gave a gentle sigh as you leaned your rear against the front of his desk, arms crossed as you watched the clock tick. He was never this late when he promised you a lunch date. You gave a soft groan, your breath catching to hear the acoustics in the room. They would be great for singing, though....knowing the other could walk in at any time was your only deterrent. You gave a sigh and dropped your head before peering to the back of the class looking at the large fonted round clock that sat staring back at you. Well....maybe you had time to just hum out one song.

Your shoulders began to relax as you took a deep breath, body letting go of all tension as you let one fluid breath release. You took in one more full breath before letting another this time releasing a beautifully pitched note on the exhale as you began to quietly sing “I'm not a stranger to the dark. Hide away, they say 'cause we don't want your broken parts. I've learned to be ashamed of all my scars. Run away, they say mo one will love you as you are,”

Slowly but surely your volume began to rise as the notes began to shift calling for more or less air depending on their pitch. With closed eyes you began to continue your self serenade, completely oblivious of the 40 eyes staring at you through the window of the classroom door, “But I won't let them break me down to dust. I know that there's a place for us, for we are glorious.”

Toshinori’s heart grew and broke as he listened to the song you sang, watching the passion in your voice as your voice grew to belt the next part at the top of your lungs a smile on your lips “When the sharpest words wanna cut me down, I'm gonna send a flood, gonna drown them out. I am brave, I am proof, I am who I'm meant to be, this is me. Look out 'cause here I come and I'm marching on to the beat I drum! I'm not scared to be seen I make no apologies, this is me.”

He and the students of his class all watched you in awe. Unable to take the distance between you two anymore, he cracked the door open making his presence known to you. Immediately blush began to creep across your face turning you into a blushing mess. You hid yourself away in your own palms shaking your head “oooh...this is so embarrassing!”

“No it was amazing, you are amazing...just when I think I’ve found a hundred reasons to love, you give me several more’ he whispered, stepping his way in front of you, grinning your way.

From that point on, Toshi wanted to hear that beautiful singing voice of yours every single chance he got......and those students of his were always hoping for another performance.

#aizawa shouta #eraserhead #aizawa x reader #yamada hizashi #present mic #hizashi x reader #toshinori yagi #all might #toshinori x reader #bnha #my hero academia

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prettyyoungtragedy · 6 years

Text

“It’s Complicated” (9)

Request by @fandomsfor-days

Summary: You lead the most normal life on planet earth, completely oblivious to the world of Avenging that rages around you until you are suddenly thrust into it with the Winter Soldier and an unexpected photo, and now you are the center of a plot that you don’t even want to be a part of.

A/N: So I finally sat down at wrote this, one more chapter and the fic will be done! I promise it’s all happy and sappy at the end! I hope you guys like the chapter, because I love the ending haha! (Its a cliff hanger :P!) drop me a reblog or some feedback and I will love you forever!

Tags are full!

Leave me some feedback and drop me a reblog if you liked it Sil vous plait :D?

Characters: Avengers!Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: None at all :)

There are moments in life that define you as a person. Moment’s that make you who you are today, specific moments when something so drastic or so small could happen that it changes or makes you as a person. You had a few of those in your lifetime, for example.

The day you graduated high school, stood out for you. It was where your love of photography came from. The day you bought your first camera, got your first job, suffered your first heartbreak from your douchebag college boyfriend. All these moments stand out for you, but one moment in particular in your life stood out more than others.

The day you met James Buchanan Barnes. Somehow you remember exactly what you were wearing that morning, what you ate for breakfast and even what time you walked into the office, almost tripped and looked into those incredibly wonderful starlight blue eyes.

And every moment after that, that you had spent hating him and the Avengers. Suddenly became a memory that stood out for you. Like stark red blood against cold white snow. You couldn’t explain it, and you yourself didn’t know when it happened but you found yourself cherishing those moments with him. Even the time he threw you out a window and jumped off a building with you. As much as you hated those memories, you sort of loved them too.

So when, James Buchanan Barnes stepped into the room that day. Every single thing just, melted away and all you saw was him. There was so much you wanted to say but couldn’t find any words, instead you were left with nothing, just a blank stare.

“Hi.” Bucky said, his voice breaking the deafening silence between the two of you.

“Hi.”

“Are you okay?”

“I think so.”

Bucky moved closer, and took a seat on the chair beside the bed you lay in. You couldn’t look at him for some reason, so instead you looked down at your hands, folded in your lap.

“I uhm...I’m sorry.” He said softly. Bucky wanted to reach out and touch you but he doesn’t, he hesitates not knowing what was the right move in this instance. “About Will…”

At the mention of Will, fresh tears suddenly spring into your eyes, and you quickly wipe them away with the palm of your hand. He shouldn’t have to feel guilty for what happened and you didn’t want him to seeing you crying either. But guilt suddenly ripples through him when he sees those tears and he’s at a loss for words.

The little silver flashdisk that he held in his hand, suddenly felt as if it carried the weight of the world on it. And Bucky knew what he had to do, what was the right thing to do. He couldn’t keep this from you, you deserved to know. Deserved to have some sort of closure or you would spend your whole life wondering what had happened to Will and why he turned out the way he did.

“I know this isn’t the right time but…” Bucky placed the disk on the bedside table and looked up at you, “I’m sorry for how things turned out and I wish I could take away whatever sorrows you have right now but, I think you need to see this.”

You looked at the flashdisk and then back at him. “What is that?” You asked, with a frown, sniffling a little.

“Will Crawford left it for you.”

Your heart suddenly felt as if it had turned to stone in your chest and your stared wide eyed at the silver disk. What could Will have possibly left on the disk, and why did Bucky have it.

“What’s on it?” You asked.

“I’ll leave you alone to watch it.” Bucky answered cryptically, “F.R.I.D.A.Y will give you access to the TV.” With that Bucky stood up and began to walk out.

“Wait,” You said quickly, and he paused for a second turning his gaze back to you. “Thank you…” You said softly, “For saving my life.”

Bucky smiled at you, “Always.” was all he said before he walked out and shut the door. Leaving you alone with just the haunting silver flashdisk that now sat beside you. Practically screaming at you to watch it.

‘The time is uhhh...7:04PM and I am currently sitting in my living room filming this. I guess Y/N, if you’re watching this it means I didn’t make it out of this whole mess alive.’

Will Crawford’s voice filled the room you were in and and you immediately hit the pause button.

Forcing down the lump in your throat as you looked at your now dead ex boyfriend on the screen before you. He sat in the living room, the living-room you had spent so many days with him in. Happier days when everything was okay, and well wasn’t such a cluster fuck. Tears escaping your eyes, you took a deep breath and composed yourself, whatever was on this disk, you needed to watch it, to help you understand.

“So, I guess I should start at the beginning” Will’s voice sounded once more as you hit play again. “It wasn’t always fucked up between us,” He sighed and you knew he was talking directly to you now.

“There were really good times, happy times even. I really did love you and I’m sorry it all got so twisted along the way. I’m sorry I used you, even though sorry doesn’t even begin to cover half of what I have put you through. I’m sorry about the Senate dinner, It wasn’t supposed to go that way, but I guess in a way I am glad it did because it put you on his radar.” Will paused and sighed again, taking a sip of the whiskey in front of him before he continued. “OSCORP was my idea entirely, which again I should have been less reckless with your life. I just thought if you had more near death experiences Mr Barnes, who I am sure is watching this with you right now would only want to protect you more. I know I kept throwing you in his path and I never expected him to fall so hard for you, I thought it would be a simple crush, maybe you two would fuck once or twice but I saw it and well...It hurt nonetheless, even though it was me who caused all this. But it what what they wanted, they wanted to hurt Barnes and somehow they knew they could use you to do it.”

Will leaned back against the leatherback couch, and looked directly into the camera, “Y/N, you deserved a lot more than I gave you and I know that now. Hydra won’t stop, they didn’t when my father worked for them and they won’t now that they control my company. I should have gone to the Avengers sooner, but Hydra threatened to hurt my family, to kill you if I didn't comply. I must sound like the world’s biggest asshole to you right now, but I just want you to know that I am sorry for all of it, for the mistakes, for the ugly words I said to you, for putting this burden on your head and for thrusting you into this world you had no business being a part of. I hope that Bucky Barnes takes better care of you than I ever did, because I can assure you, he is a hundred times the man I ever was.”

“On that final note, We had a fight tonight and I’d like you to know I never meant what I said. If you remember it then you know what I am talking about, I was hurt, and angry because I saw you falling for him too and I couldn’t stop it. Not without getting you killed. So, Y/N, I just want you to know you always were my best friend, and I’m sorry I failed you so miserably. I’m sorry I chose Hydra and my family’s legacy over protecting you.”

“And Bucky Barnes, Do right by her, please, because I never could.”

When the recording ended, and the screen faded to black. You sat there, heart thundering wildly in your chest as you let Will’s words sink into your mind. The weight of his confession cascading down on you as if you stood beneath a waterfall at this very moment.

You were at a loss for words, emotions raw and running wild. So many questions, mostly how dare he? How dare he do all this and then die, leaving you with this shitty recording of him admitting his sins and then basically telling Bucky he could have you. Like you were some prize that could be traded between men.

“Asshole!” You exclaimed, “Stupid, fucking asshole!” without thinking you hurled the nearest object you could find at the sleek black screen. The glass shattering on impact.

“Will Crawford, you selfish, stupid, worthless sack of shit. You fucking moron. Oh my god!” You screamed, rage boiling over like a overflowing cauldron and before you knew it you jumped out of the bed and started angrily hurling things around the room.

A mixture of tears and anger as you pretty much wrecked the room. You found yourself repeatedly punching the TV screen where Will’s face was a few moments ago. It didn’t make a single iota of rational sense but your rage was unleashed, there wasn’t a rational thought inside your mind. Blood oozing from the wounds on your knuckles, cuts on your arms from being scratched by the glass and feet bleeding from the glass you had stepped in. Suddenly, a pair of muscular arms wrap around your waist and haul you away from the now cracked and shattered screen,

“Stop!” Bucky’s voice commands but you fight against him, trying to get away. He was the last person you wanted to see right now.

“Let go of me!” You exclaimed, struggling against his vice grip. You twisted every which way, trying to shove him off you but to no avail. He was stronger than you were and he held you to his chest, firmly.

“Calm down.”

“Bucky! Let go of me! For fucks sake!” Suddenly you were crying, you couldn’t decide if it was angry crying or because you were genuinely terrified but hot tears were streaming down your face.

Bucky suddenly releases you from his grip and you stumbled forward, falling to the ground on your hands and knees, gasping for air.

He knelt down beside you and placed his cool, metal hand on your back.

“I’m sorry, it’s okay.” He murmured.

“Get away from me!”

You looked up at him and it was unexplainable the anger you felt, but Bucky knew it was grief and he was the closest thing to you right now that you could take your grief out on so he lets you.

“Y/N…”

“No!”

“I’m trying to help you.” He said exasperatedly reaching his hands out towards you once more

“I don’t need your help, Bucky.” You snarled at him, shitting his hand away.

“I’m sorry, I get it.”

“Get out!” you exclaimed.

“Please let me…”

“Get out.” You screamed at him, and Bucky sighed. He wasn’t going to win this fight and he resigned to the fact. Slowly he rose to his feet casting a glance to you on the floor once more before he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

You leaned against the bed frame, and suddenly were overtaken by emotion. And uncontrollable sobbing ripped through you as you held your knees to your chest, and sobbed on the floor. Bloodied and messy, you didn’t care.

A few minutes later, you heard the door open again and footsteps crunching over the broken glass. They take a seat beside you, and you already knew who it was without looking up. He sighs deeply and reaches over, placing a comforting hand on your back.

“It’s going to be okay.” Bucky said softly.

The next couple of weeks were shitty to say the least. You had to sit through interview after interview with different magazines and companies and the police and the Avengers. Repeating the same answers again and again to all of them.

Reporters hounded you for more information on Will’s death, to which you had no response to of course. It got to the point where you had to quit your job and move apartments because of the invasion of privacy from those vultures.

Bucky tried to be there for you, he came with you to physical therapy and to almost every appointment at the psychiatrist which you appreciated but you didn’t want to be round him. Not right now, with pretty much everyone’s eyes on you, the last thing you needed was the Winter Soldier shadowing you everywhere. He seemed kind of hurt by you asking for time alone but he didn’t argue it, instead he respected your wishes and stayed away.

Finally six weeks later, everything had seemingly died down and you gained some semblance of a normal life again. Well as normal as it could be, you found a new apartment and a job that would keep you out of the public eye for a while. The sleepless nights still plagued you, sometimes you would sit up and obsessively check the news for anything to do with Hydra, you had to know more, it became a slight obsession. Always looking over your shoulder, became a second nature

The feeling of butterflies in your stomach is such a weird thing to explain. It felt like there were a million butterflies just zinging around inside your stomach, your palms clammy, heart pounding in your chest. But it’s how you felt when you walked into the Avengers tower that morning, nervously saying hello to the security in the lobby and asking to see Bucky Barnes.

An incredulously look on the his face as he looked at you but he phoned up to the tower and a few minutes later, Sam Wilson showed up in the lobby with a grin on his face.

“Well, well, look who it is” He said enveloping you in a hug. An unexpected show of affection towards you and it made you feel welcomed and comforted.

“Hi Sam.” You laughed, returning his hug.

“What brings you to our humble home?” He asked, slinging his arm around your shoulders and guiding you to the elevator with him.

“I uhh…” You hesitated and cleared your throat, “I need to see Bucky.”

“Something wrong?” Sam asked, a worried expression suddenly in his face.

“No, no I just…” You paused, and listened to the whirr of the elevator as it moved up floor by floor. “I need to apologize to him” you said softly.

“Ahhh…” Was all Sam said, with an understanding expression on his face.

You sighed deeply and rubbed your face with your hands, this was hard for you. You had asked Bucky to stay away from you, because you wanted to get your life together, pick up the broken pieces that Will had left behind. And Bucky being around you, it seemed always brought bad luck or so you had thought. He was trouble, him and his Avengers were trouble and as long as you stayed in his path your life would never be normal and that’s all you wanted after Will’s death. Some sense of normalcy.

So you told him to leave you alone, to stay away so you could live your life out of the public eye. Because every magazine that printed something about you or article that was written was calling you the Winter Soldier’s girl all of a sudden, how they came to that conclusion you had no idea. You soon did find out though, when Bucky told you what he did at the hospital for you, how he demanded they give you to the Avengers for medical care. This was kind of the tipping point for you, he for all his goodness and kindness was too protective and intrusive and you needed to get away.

But a slow realization dawned on you in the weeks to come, your life would be anything but normal now that you knew you had feelings for him. You had to eventually see him, it sort of felt like this innate disability your feelings for him. Because even though you wanted a normal life and you had forced yourself to live this vanilla, quiet life away from the public eye. You still sat for hours in front of your laptop, scrolling through news feeds and articles, reading up on Bucky and the Avengers.

And then one morning, you just felt it. The loneliness that comes from rejecting your feelings and you just knew what you had to do.

“How have you been?” Sam asked, interrupting your train of thought.

“Good.” You mumbled, slightly shaking your head to rid yourself of the nervous thoughts that plagued you

“How’s work?”

“It’s you know...business as usual.” You replied.

Sam nodded and thankfully the elevator doors opened onto the landing and the two of you stepped out onto the bustling floor. There were people all about, walking, talking, laughing. Some wore suits, others wore t-shirts that said recruit across it, some were kitted out in full tactical gear with white bold letters Strike written on their chest.

People parted ways as Sam weaved through them, nodding their greetings to him as he led you towards the gorgeous glass walled conference room. Everything on this floor was sleek, glass and looked state of the art. And in the conference room sat Steve Rogers who immediately got to his feet when he saw you walk in with Sam.

Opening the door to the conference room, Sam lets you step in first and shuts the door behind him.

“Ma’am.” Steve greets you formally as if he wasn’t on a more friendly level with you anymore.

“Hi Steve.”

“What uh what are you doing here?” He asked, glancing at Sam momentarily.

“I need to see Bucky.” You replied

“Is everything okay?” Steve asked.

“Yes. I just need to talk to him.” Beginning to feel a little frustrated having to answer the same line of questioning again.

Steve nods at Sam and then Sam walks out of the conference room, leaving you alone with Steve. He gestures to one of the leatherback chairs and you take a seat down, looking around at the room and the people milling about in the hallway.

“Do you want something to drink?” Steve asked.

“I’ll take a shot of tequila if you’re offering.” You joked, and his face faltered for a moment.

“Uhh we can arrange that if you need…” He started saying.

“Steve, I’m kidding.” You shrugged.

“Oh…”

“Yeah.” you muttered, looking down at your hands and nervously wringing them. This waiting was making this whole situation more tortuous for you. You wanted to just get it over with and see him, even though you had no idea what you were going to say. There was this inevitable pull you had towards him and you knew when you saw him, your brain would just somehow find the right words to say. It always did when you saw him.

And so you wait, patiently, nervously, with Steve Rogers in that damned conference room.

Bucky dropped onto the bench, sweat dripping down the side of his face and a thin sheen of sweat covering his bare torso and limbs. He frustratedly tossed his t-shirt to the floor and rolled his shoulders. Over the passed few weeks he had thrown himself into work, whatever anyone wanted he did it. Any mission, any assignment, all the paperwork, he took it all. He had to occupy himself or he would go crazy from thinking about her.

It had been six weeks of torture for him. He couldn’t see her, or contact her. He tried to keep her off his mind but he couldn’t seem to do that and it frustrated him to no end. It was a frustrating conundrum but he had to deal with it, Steve gave him endless shit about it and his feelings which he had branded as unprofessional and lacking in common sense but he couldn't help how he felt.

Bucky wiped the sweat from his face with a nearby gym towel and slung it over his shoulder before getting up once more. He glanced at the clock on the wall and realized he had a briefing with Fury in a couple minutes. He hurriedly made his way back to the residents floor of the tower and a quick shower and a change of clothes later, Bucky made his way up to Fury’s office.

The elevator dinged on the landing and Bucky stepped out, tousling his damp hair as he looked at his phone. Sam was texting him meme’s again, something he never understood but found funny anyway. Chuckling as he scrolled through the group chat with him, Sam and Steve. He was so preoccupied with his phone that he didn’t notice Steve standing in the hallway with someone, Sam was there too. Both of them looking at him, waiting for him to notice them .

Steve cleared his throat and Bucky finally looked up, stopping dead in his tracks as his eyes wandered over to where Sam and Steve stood, or rather to who stood with them. She once again, quite literally took his breath away when he looked at her. Her eyes meeting his, a small smile on her face. Bucky swallowed thickly, his mouth suddenly feeling very dry and he couldn’t find the words.

“Hey Bucky.” She said softly, her voice like music to his ears as it sets his heart off racing in his chest.

The two of you sit awkwardly across from each other at one of the tables in the massive canteen. Bucky had suggested it as a place to go and talk, he didn’t know why. It made zero sense to him but you agreed to it immediately.

You walked in silence down to the bustling cafeteria and Bucky got two cups of coffee before the two of you sat down, in silence once more, just looking at each other.

“So…”

“How’s…”

You both talk at the same time.

“Sorry.” You both say in unison again.

“You go first.” Bucky said with a slight chuckle, he picked up his coffee and took a sip. Waiting for you to start talking.

“Uhm..so, I owe you an apology.” You started softly. Your eyes meet his, there’s a softness in them that sudden puts you at ease and you took a deep breath knowing it was okay to be open with him. “I’m sorry Bucky, for the way I reacted to everything. I was dealing with everything and I guess I handled it badly.”

You paused for a moment to sip your coffee, it tastes amazing for cafeteria coffee but of course it would. It was coffee made in the Avengers tower, Tony Stark probably had the coffee beans shipped from some foreign country.

“I have been trying to fix my life and I realized I was just trying to run away from it all.” You said, “I pushed you away and you were only trying to help but that doesn’t mean it makes what you did okay.”

“I was trying to protect you.” Bucky interjected.

“By controlling every aspect of my life Bucky!”

“It’s protection. You were unsafe, I won't apologize for that.” He retorted.

“It was internment.” You snorted in reply.

“Over exaggeration.” He rolled his eyes,

“Ugh, okay listen up idiot.” You snapped, “I came here to apologize for my behavior and words, but you’re being an ass.”

Bucky clenches his jaw, he wants to just blurt out his feelings for you. He feels like he is about to vomit but it’s just the fact that he is holding back his words. He wants to say it so badly, and looking at you and how pretty you still looked, sitting in front of him made him feel like his head was going to explode. He didn’t understand why he was being an asshole, it was like some self defense mechanism that was built in him.

“So apologize then.” He muttered.

“I just did.” You snapped.

“That’s all?”

“Oh my god what were you expecting?!” You exclaimed, throwing your hands in the air almost knocking your coffee over. Bucky quickly reaches out and grabs the cup before it falls over. A few passersby throwing glances at the two of you, but you both ignore them.

Bucky shrugged and shook his head, you could see he was holding back. There was something he wanted to say but he was not saying it and this was annoying you.

“Maybe a little more effort? You just show up here, after running away from it all like everything is just okay?” Bucky said. He was mentally kicking himself for even letting those words come out of his mouth, why was his stupid man brain starting an argument with you. He really needed to fix his pride, it was clearly not working in his favor right now. He sees the look on your face, and knows the verbal lashing he is about to get.

“What the fuck is your problem?” You demanded.

“I don’t know, you tell me!” He shot back.

“You know what, I’m sorry I wasted my time coming here today. Goodbye Bucky” You said through gritted teeth and shoved yourself out of your seat, leaving Bucky and the coffee at the table.

“Wait!” You hear him call out and you stopped, turning back around to face him. Crossing your arms, you watch him rise out of his seat and walk over to you. His 6’2 height towering over you, broad chest hulking beneath that black t-shirt of his. You look up at his starlight blue eyes, momentarily getting lost in them.

“Well?” You say, irritably.

“I…” He started then sighed, “I’m sorry, I’m being an ass but I don’t know how to deal with this.” He said gesturing between the two of you.

“Deal with what?”

“This thing, this...The way I feel about you.” Bucky said, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, nervously.

“What…?” You murmured, heart suddenly thundering in your chest again. You knew you had feelings for him but you weren’t sure he felt the same way about you. Was he finally going to address it, and why suddenly when the prospect of that was real were you terrified of this.

Bucky looked at you, and stepped closer to you. “I mean, I think it’s obvious? Or maybe it’s not. I don’t know, I’m really bad at this.” He grimaced, “I don’t know where these feelings came from and I have no control over this.”

“Bucky…” You whispered, unsure why you are suddenly feeling terrified that if he kept talking you would run away.

“I know we’ve had this really shit run since the moment we met, but I feel something so strong for you and I can’t get you out of my head, I haven’t been able to since I met you. You are magnetic, I keep finding myself drawn to you. I feel like I have been waiting for you my whole life, you just walked in and unknowingly clicked everything into place for me.” Bucky paused and looked at you, his eyes searching your face for any sign of a reaction. Something that would give him an inclination of how you felt, but all he saw was shock.

“I think I’m in love with you.” Bucky blurted out.

Your eyes widened suddenly at his confession, mouth opening and moving but no words came out.

“This isn’t love.” You said, and Bucky’s face fell. “It can’t be, I ...I don’t know what...Bucky...This...we...can’t.”

“So you feel it too?” He said, he sounded hopeful.

“I do but...:”

“There should be no ‘buts’ if you feel it too!” He said suddenly gripping your hand in his. You throw a quick glance around the cafeteria, people were beginning to stare at the two of you, and you needed to get out of here.

“I can’t.” You murmured,

“Why?”

“I don’t know…”

“I love you.” Those words making your heart flip in your chest as he openly admitted it.

“Bucky,” You shook your head, why the fuck were you so scared of this. There was an undeniable magnetic pull between the two of you, you both knew this. And here he was laying his heart out for you and you were somehow unable to reciprocate.

“Do you love me?” He asked softly, his blue eyes searching your face again.

“Yes.” You murmured breathlessly.

“Well what do you want?!” Bucky demanded, his voice raising an octave.

“I don’t know!”

“What do you want Y/N?!” He repeated firmly,

“It’s not that simple Bucky!” You exclaimed, pulling your hand from his and walking away from him. Bucky sighs frustratedly and starts after you.

“Then let me simplify it for you.” He said, and without any warning, he grabs your hand and pulls you into his arms, his lips crashing against yours. There and then, in the middle of the cafeteria in front of hundreds of people, James Buchanan Barnes kissed you breathless and you let him.

#Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #The winter soldier #Bucky x reader #avengers fanfiction #Bucky Barnes fic #Bucky Barnes Imagine #bucky barnes headcanon #Avenger!Bucky Barnes #The winter soldier x reader #Bucky #bucky barnes fanfiction #Fanfiction series #Avengers

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brandi6189052-blog · 5 years

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10 Nice Apps To Convert Audio & Video Files In Linux

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quiet-onset · 6 years

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Grounded

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!reader

Requested by Anon: “Supitty Sup Sup! Can I request a Peter Parker (Tom Holland version of course) x Tony’s Daughter! Reader in which the reader is caught sneaking back in from a fight against HYDRA and is stuck in her dads lab for like e v e r (1 week) when she’s not at school or under the supervision of another avenger”

Word Count: 3k+ (aka Tumblr needs to fix the damn read more so ppl don’t have to scrool past my long ass fics)

A/N: I finished this at 5 AM while laying in bed with back pains, so hopefully this fic is coherent enough to post lol. My Marvel tag list is open if anyone wants to be tagged in my Marvel fics

You weren’t sure what had gotten into you.

It started when the team returned back to the complex after a mission. You’d busied yourself with making some improvements to your own iron suit (which your father had no idea about) while on the phone with the neighborhood hero who’d become the center of your romantic imagination since taking your father’s ‘internship’. “I think it’s cool, Y/N, but don’t you think you should tell Mr. Stark?”

“For the love of god, please stop calling my dad Mr. Stark.” You rolled your eyes as you soldered two wires together. You blew a quick breath on it to cool it down before speaking again. “He’d never understand, Pete. You, of all people, know that. He’d just tell me no.”

“I mean, maybe he’s right.” Peter said shyly. You groaned loudly as he tried to continue. “Come on, you’re the daughter of Tony Stark. There are literally hundreds of people, and at least a few aliens, who want him to suffer. You’d be the easiest way to do that.”

“All the more reason to be able to protect myself with my own suit.”

“You’re not talking about protecting yourself though.” He chuckled. “Plus, what would I do if something happened to you?”

You dropped a circuit board you’d been working on when he asked you that question, your heart suddenly racing faster than the speed of light. You cleared your throat as you picked it up, “You’d find another lab partner.”

He laughed shortly and sarcastically, “You’re hilarious.”

“I get it from my father.” You joked. “What if I agreed to be your sidekick? Would you change your mind then?”

“You be my sidekick? Yeah, right. You know you’re not anyone’s sidekick. You want to be a hero.”

You held your freshly painted helmet in your hands and smiled. “I want to do good, too. Sue me.”

Peter only laughed and rolled his eyes. “Maybe I will. Well, besides building a super secret iron suit, have you studied for the Spanish test tomorrow?”

“If I’m making a super secret iron suit, do you really think I studied for the Spanish test tomorrow?”

“Good point. You should do that though, alright?”

Just as Peter finished speaking, you heard the quinjet approach the cargo bay. As it docked, you rushed to put everything away before your father could see. “I won’t, but I appreciate your effort. I gotta go, Peter. My dad just got back. Call you later?”

“‘Course.”

Only moments later, you were whispering for FRIDAY to hide all of your schematics and files and initiate your stealth protocol. “Switching to Private Project mode.” She’d said, purposefully lowering her volume.

As your schematics and prototype were being whisked away, new schematics were set in front of you; new ideas for the Hulkbuster suit and some gadgets for Falcon. As soon as you heard footsteps, you popped your head out of the lab, seeing them gathered on the cargo bay. “So how’d it go?”

“Not great.” Steve said.

“What happened? Is Dad okay?”

Just a second later, your father emerged, his eyes dark and upset. He walked straight past you, a breeze catching your hair. “I’m fine.” He muttered.

You turned to Steve who sighed and gestured for you to follow him onto the quinjet. You were met with your father’s suit, covered in soot and scratches, sparking with damage. You’ve seen his suit take some hits, but you’d never seen it that bad. “What happened?” You asked.

“They made some kind of new technology.” Steve fished a small blue disk out of his pocket. “As soon as they got it on his suit, it just stopped working.”

You felt your lips twist into a frown as he placed the disk in your hands, the soft whirring of the technology frustrating you. Steve knew you felt a bit guilty; Tony had let you make some improvements to his suit after months of begging. He placed a hand on your shoulder and looked into your eyes, “This is not your fault, kid.”

“I should’ve anticipated something like this.”

“And how exactly would you have done that?” He asked knowingly.

“I’m the daughter of a genius, Steve. I could’ve used a logarithm to find out the different possibilities of failure or cross-referenced my improvements with recent Hydra technology to try and counteract any sort of weapon. Or—”

Steve stopped you with a single look. You knew that look all too well. Tony gave you the same look whenever you resorted to self-loathing. He swore you got it from your mother, but you knew that was all Tony Stark. Without another word, Steve gave you a little shove towards to the lab, silently urging you to speak with your father.

You heard some mumbling as you entered. You realized he must’ve been talking to FRIDAY, probably telling her to pull up some schematics of his suit. You watched him move them around in a messy attempt at organization. He muttered a curse under his breath and began to turn around, calling for Steve, “I need that disk!”

You held it up, “This one?”

When he caught your eye, Tony sighed. “Yes, that one.”

The silence was thick as you both stared at each other. Your eyes were suddenly on the floor as he walked closer to you. You could just feel the shame in his eyes with every step he took towards you. You wondered how you could possibly be Tony Stark’s daughter; he would’ve thought of some sort of defense mechanism. But you? You wouldn’t have been able to see this coming if it was staring you in the face.

“Kid,” He called your attention. “I didn’t mean to snap at you back there. I just—”

“It’s okay, Dad. I deserved it anyways.” You slid past him and went to place the disk on the scanner tray, practically whispering to FRIDAY to pull up the schematics of your enemy’s device as soon as they were processed.

Tony stood on the other side of the room, confused and dazed. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I know I should’ve thought of something to protect your suit from this when I was making changes.”

“Uh, that’s definitely not what I meant.” Your father followed you as you went to sit on the workbench. When he sat next to you, he resisted the urge to make a joke to diffuse the tension as he realized how upset you were. He sighed, “What made you think that?”

You shrugged. “I should’ve known better.”

He actually chuckled at that. You were almost angered by him laughing at your sadness, but he threw an arm around your shoulder before you could. “Hon, I didn’t even see this coming. Not that that’s saying anything; You are substantially smarter than I am.”

“Then why did you snap at me?”

He drew in a deep breath, “I was frustrated. I mean, I’ve never been in a position where my suit just completely shuts down because of a disk the size of my eyeball. That’s no excuse though, and I’m sorry, kid.”

The corners of your lips tugged upwards in a small smile as you slung your other arm around your father’s waist. He hugged you tight and kissed the crown of your head before standing up. “I’m gonna head to bed.” He told you. “Getting your ass beat really takes it out of you.”

“I’m sure it does.” You grinned. “I’m gonna stay up for a little bit. Analyze this piece of crap.”

“Don’t stay up all night this time, alright?”

“Yes, father.” You rolled your eyes.

As your father exited the lab, you turned your attention to the screen. Your eyes ran over the schematics that FRIDAY had just pulled up. Suddenly, your brain was moving at a thousand miles a minute. You hadn’t noticed the time pass by as you modified your father’s suit and your own. Before you knew it, it was midnight.

And again, you weren’t sure what got into you.

But you took one look at that disk, and you were infuriated all over. Feeling a wave of irrationality wash through you, you walked to the cargo bay, telling FRIDAY it was time to suit up. “Should I notify your father, Y/N?”

“He doesn’t need to know.”

“I know I cannot talk you out of this, but I would not suggesting taking this route.” FRIDAY said as your suit began to cover your body. “Perhaps I can analyze a few better-suited methods.”

“I’ve got this, FRIDAY. My AI will take over from here.” You vaguely heard her confirmation before another voice surrounded you, your helmet lighting up with different programs and notifications.

“Where to, Y/N?” Your AI, TORI, asked.

“Analyze the origins of the blue disk and take me there.”

“You’re aware this is a HYDRA base?”

“Yep.”

“Very well.”

Not an hour later were you in a full on fire fight with half of the base’s agents. You tried everything you’d equipped in your suit, and it still didn’t seem to be enough. You were taking some pretty hard hits when a call rolled through.

“TORI, reroute twenty percent power to thrusters.”

“Not recommended. They’ve got your thrusters locked on.” She told you. “Also, patching a call through. It’s Peter Parker.”

“No, TORI, don’t—”

“Hey, Y/N.” Peter’s voice stopped you. “I knew it was late, but I didn’t expect TORI to answer for you.”

“Yeah, well I’m kinda in the middle of something.” You shot missiles at one of their rockets before dodging another. “What’s up?”

He laughed nervously, “I just noticed that I actually have your Spanish notes. So if you want, I can just swing by, no pun intended, and—”

Suddenly, your left thruster was hit by a rocket, sending you tumbling towards the ground. “Power is at thirty-five percent.” TORI stated.

“Was that an explosion?” Peter asked, suddenly anxious. “Y/N, where the hell are you?”

“Thirty percent.”

“I’m fine.” You shouted through the noise. “Just dealing with some complications. TORI, emergency power mode, half to left thruster and fifteen percent to defense systems.”

“Emergency power mode? Are you crazy? You’ve never been in the field before! Are you by yourself?” Peter asked incredulously. All the while, he was tripping around his room, trying to slip on the Spiderman suit. “Where are you? I’m coming.”

You were too focused on the fight in front of you to even notice that the boy you’d been dreaming about for the last year was ready to come save you at a moment’s notice. You grunted as you took another hit, barely balancing yourself out. “Pretty sure Argentina’s a bit too far for you to swing.”

“Argentina? Y/N, I’m calling Mr. Stark. You need help.”

“Peter, don’t—”

“He’s ended the call.” TORI told you.

It wasn’t even ten minutes later that your father’s voice filled your helmet. “What the actual hell is wrong with you?”

“Dad—”

“Do you know how incredibly dangerous what you’re doing is?”

“I just—”

“Y/N, you’re the only person I have left, and you’re throwing yourself in danger’s way! What if you died?”

“But I didn’t.”

“Don’t you dare say that to me.”

Suddenly, you were hit again. This time much harder than the last. Both of your thrusters were blown off, and you were barreling towards the ground. TORI sounded urgent as you started to pick up speed. “Thrusters destroyed. Calculating landing coordinates for least bodily damage.”

“Y/N!”

—

“I don’t know, man. It’s been a week. She hasn’t even texted me.”

“You gotta give her space.” Ned clapped a hand onto his best friend’s shoulder as he closed his locker. “She’s probably not all that happy you ratted her out.”

“She could’ve died, Ned.” Peter said, adjusting his book in his hand. “Her thruster had just been hit. And that suit was just a prototype. She’d never used it before.”

“Dude, Mr. Stark told you she’s fine. You did the right thing. You’re just worried because you’re in love with her.”

Peter punched Ned’s shoulder and whispered, “Shut up. I don’t need to whole school to know that.”

“I mean, this is better than last time. At least this time, the dad of your crush isn’t a supervillain that wants to kill you.” Ned pointed out, rubbing his sore arm.

“Mr. Stark would kill me if he found out I liked Y/N, okay? She’s his everything, and I’m just some kid from Queens.”

“Correction.” Ned smirked as they arrived at the cafeteria. “You’re Spiderman. Don’t get me wrong, she’s way out of your league. Out of everyone’s league.”

“Thanks Ned.” Peter groaned and rested his head on the table.

“But Mr. Stark would approve of you.”

He looked up, “You really think so?”

“You’re smart. You’re strong. You’re a hero, so you’ve got morals. And you’re better looking best friend isn’t interested, so.”

Peter thought about it as he ate his lunch. He wanted you to have your space if you were mad at him, but he couldn’t live with this uncertainty. He couldn’t go on without seeing you and knowing, for sure, that you were alive and well. He chewed at his nails for the rest of the day, debating with his subconscious.

But finally, at midnight, he decided that he just couldn’t take it anymore. He didn’t care how angry you were with him. He had to make sure you were okay. Then you’d get your space.

You limped your way over to the window of the medbay, opening it and breathing in the fresh air. A deep voice behind you made you jump. “You’re supposed to be resting.”

“I needed some fresh air.” You told your father. “And this is the most I’ll get until I’m not grounded anymore.”

“You are absolutely right. So enjoy the windows.”

You began to limp back to your bed when Tony asked if you needed help. “No.” You answered, one hand on the wall. After another moment or two of your attempts, he strolled across the room and lifted you, bridal-style, carrying you to your bed.

He stopped you as you opened your mouth to argue. “No, you’re not too heavy, and I’m already carrying you, so it’s too late, kid.”

He laid you down, careful not to bump the casts on your wrist and leg. Sitting down next to you, he placed a warm, comforting hand on the crown of your head as you averted gaze. “I’m not doing this ‘cause I’m mad at you, kiddo.”

You blinked at him until he rolled his eyes. “Okay, so yeah, I’m a little mad. I think I get to be after what you did.” He sighed. “But you gotta understand, you’re all I have. HYDRA can do whatever they want to me, but if something had happened to you? Something worse? I don’t know if I could’ve gone on.”

All of your emotions and thoughts from the past few days suddenly overwhelmed you as tears started to fall down your cheeks. “I just felt so guilty. I wanted to help you.”

He wiped away your tears, “You help me all the time. This was just one time something didn’t work, the first of many. You can’t go doing crazy, irrational things because something doesn’t work. That’s my job, alright?”

You choked out a laugh, “Yeah, alright.”

“Good.” Tony smiled. “Now I’m gonna go make that tea you like, for whatever reason, and get the medicine Dr. Banner prescribed. I’ll be back soon.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple before leaving you in the medbay, the cool breeze wafting inside the room. You sniffed a few times as your remaining tears fell from your eyes before your eyebrows scrunched together. You sniffed again and realized that you weren’t crazy — You were smelling food. The scent of churros filled your nostrils when you heard a soft pad on the floor. Looking to the window, there stood Spiderman with a white paper bag, no doubt filled with the warm, delicious treat.

Peter pulled the mask off and shook his hair out, an action that made heartbeat quicken every time. When he locked eyes with you, he seemed nervous, afraid even. Little did he know, you felt the same way. What if he was mad at you, just like your father was? “I brought a peace offering.” He held up the bag.

“A peace offering?”

“I know you’re probably mad at me for calling Mr. Stark, but I had to. I couldn’t save you, and he could. Plus, he’s your dad. I couldn’t not tell him.” Peter rambled.

You let a sigh of relief and chuckled as you watched his cheeks tinge with pink. He really was the cutest boy you’d ever known. You beckoned over while you responded. “I’m not mad at you, Pete. I never was. Dad took my cell phone.”

As he sat by your side, he reached in the bag and offered you a churro. “Grounded?”

“For two months.”

“Yikes.”

You bit into the treat and sighed at the taste. It’d been so long since you’d had an authentic churro. They quickly became your favorite treat when Peter let you try his months ago. Since then, they’d become an unspoken thing between you two. Kind of like the other unspoken thing you had going on.

“Save me?”

He looked up, “What?

“You said you couldn’t save me.”

“Well yeah.” He said sheepishly. He scratched the back of his neck, “I was actually putting the suit on while I talked to you. Obviously, Spiderman probably can’t swing to Argentina.”

“But you would’ve tried? To save me?”

“Of course. I’ll always save you.”

You weren’t really sure which one of you was leaning or if either of you were leaning at all. You just hadn’t realized how close you were until this moment. You noticed little brown freckles splattered beautifully across his neck. His breath fanned over your cheeks as he looked into your eyes, getting lost in the color of them. Slowly, your hand intertwined with his, the sweet churros long forgotten.

All either of you could focus on was how close you were to one other. How fast your hearts were beating. How easy it’d be to just kiss one another.

“Please tell me,” He started slowly. He let out a short breath, as if he couldn’t believe what was happening. “Please tell me you’re okay with this.”

Your nose nudged his as the gap became smaller, “I’m more than okay with this.”

That was all he needed to press his lips against yours, careful not touch any of your injuries. His lips were soft and still had a hint of sugar on them as he let go of your hand and cupped your cheeks. The only thing you could hear was your heartbeat, pounding against your ribcage in time with his. It felt much too soon when he pulled away and leaned his forehead against your own. You let out a content chuckle. “You taste like churros.”

He chuckled along with you, “You do, too.”

As your heartbeats slowed down, and your senses returned to normal, you heard footsteps coming down the hall. You gasped and sat up, Peter’s hands falling from your cheeks. “That’s my dad!” You whispered.

His eyes widened. “Shit.”

He stood up and yanked his mask halfway on, headed for the window before you pulled him back by his arm. “He’ll see you!”

“Well, what should I do?”

Moments later, Tony walked in and smiled at his daughter, a tray with tea and medicine in hand. You’d finally picked up your Spanish textbook and began studying for the test you missed. “You’re not fluent yet?” He joked.

“Are you?” You flipped a page.

“Touche.” He smirked as he sat down next to you, something crunching underneath him. “I’ve got your tea and your medicine. Banner says takes two of these every night before bed and keep the leg elevated, alright?”

“Yeah. I got it.”

“Good.” Tony stood up and headed for the door. “Ya know, if you keep this whole studying thing up, I might give your phone back. But in the meantime. Parker?”

The room was quiet as Tony kept his back to you, only turning his head when he was answered with silence. “Parker.”

“... Yes, Mr. Stark?”

“Get off my ceiling.”

“Yes, Mr. Stark.”

Tony turned as Peter landed on the ground, sheepishly holding his mask in his hands. “I’m telling May you were out past curfew. And this,” He gestured from the ceiling to the two of you before pointing you. “Earned you another month.”

“What!”

“I don’t make the rules. Oh wait.” He laughed. “I do!”

Forever Tags: @jockarchie, @kimmy-h-life, @ben-platt-deserves-the-world , @thewordofthenerd , @wishuponastarlana, @yumel21, @here-for-your-bullshit, @bethbat, @iamafangirlofeverything, @loveisloveandmorepeopleneedit

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel x reader #if no one asks me what TORI stands for I'm considering this a failure cuz I spent so long trying to come up with a name for that AI

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kaplanfriis08 · 2 years

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soonwellbefoundfic · 7 years

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being confused just takes control..

marlee.

"Why you not pick up? I worry for you!"

"I'm sorry, Lau." I spoke through a yawn. "I've been in and out of sleep."

"Where you is?"

His question made me pause. My eyes glazed over the span of the hotel suite I'd been calling home for nearly a week now.

"Bob!" He pressed.

"I'm not home." I told him, chewing my lip.

"I know that! I go there." His declaration shocked me. Last I'd checked he was in LA. "Where you is?"

"I don't wanna tell you," I muttered, scratching my scalp.

To say I'd let myself go would be a complete understatement. I hadn't put a comb to my head in days. My skin was dry and lacked its normal glow. The only thing I bothered to do was shower and to be honest I didn't want to do that. It was the sporadic spotting due to the abortion the forced me to clean myself.

"Why not?!"

"Because,” I paused with an inward sigh. “You're gonna tell your brother and I don't want to see him."

He blew out a sigh. "I not tell him anything!"

"You tell him everything." I stressed, rolling my eyes despite the fact that he couldn't see me.

"If you say dong tell him I won't."

"Whatever, Lau."

"Bob." He sighed. "I just need to see you okay."

"I'm fine."

"Marlee Estelle Bourgeois." I cringed at the name. At this point I'd go back to Nichols with no complaints.

I hesitated but caved, knowing he wouldn't let up. "If I tell you will you bring me food?"

"I bring whatever you need."

And he did.

Less than an hour later I was rummaging curiously through the bag he'd brought. Amongst all the items was the most important – sanitary napkins.

"I'm surprised you got the right ones. Larry always fucks up." His name on my tongue annoyed me.

I talked about him so much but it was difficult not to. So many areas of my life revolved around him. It was maddening.

"I better." Laurent smirked.

“True.” I mumbled, cracking open the Honeybun I'd requested. “Can you heat this for like, 15 seconds?”

Laurent wordlessly complied and when the sweet treat was to my liking he handed it back to me. I ate in silence mentally preparing myself for any questions my beloved brother would ask. He was too quiet and he was never quiet so that only meant that he had tons to say.

To my dismay, his silence lasted through my Honeybun and half my bag of Doritos. It was torturous. I wanted so badly to know what was going on in that head of his. My paranoia made me itch with a fear that Lau knew why I was here and what I'd done.

Could he smell the stench left from the sterile clinic in my pores? Did my body look different? Was I bathed in guilt? Apathy?

Not knowing where his head was killed me. His silence was torture. And the void it left needed to be filled.

“I want a divorce.” My lungs nearly popped from the pressure of saying the words aloud as I had never done so.

The declaration wasn't refreshing or liberating. I didn't feel better but worse. My biggest fear would play out because words were powerful. I'd put it out into the universe after fiddling with the thought for months and eventually it would materialize.

“Bob,” Lau started with a pained expression.

Seconds prior I'd craved his voice, or any sound from him, but now I didn't want to hear it. I knew his lips would spew words designed to alter my decision, or defend his brother.

“I'm getting a divorce.” I reiterated, refusing to let him say whatever he wanted to say.

My voice was stronger, full of purpose and my eyes full of tears.

"What are you doing?" He whirled around, seemingly surprised by my presence.

"I look through pictures." His eyes were warm, inviting and hopeful.

A few days had passed since my doctors appointment and I'd mostly avoided him. I was surprised yet appreciative that he let me. I needed the time. My thoughts were mostly redundant and my memories stagnant. It wasn't necessarily that I didn't know what I wanted it was more so the fact that I didn't know what to say to him.

My memories told the tale of a woman who evaded serious conversations – much like I was doing now. When Larry did his dirty work I solely acted on how I felt, I never said anything because I felt like he should've known. He out of all people was the closest to me. He was the sole person who had access to all parts of me. He was most in tune with my wants, my needs, the things that made me happy and the things that made me sad. He was most in tune with my emotions and with that fact came a responsibility. I expected him to know better and do better. And he didn't.

His lack of compassion led to my apathy. I kicked him out, then fled when I knew he would return, then aborted the child we'd conceived and finally filed for divorce – all without cluing him in because he of all people should have know why.

With the exception of the pregnancy I felt that explaining to him why my acts were a result of his actions was fruitless. He was an adult with common sense – he knew better. But now as I found myself repeating the same shit I wondered if I should take a different course of action. I was experiencing those same emotions that I'm sure I harbored in the past when we were actually falling apart but I didn't know how to express them. I didn't know what to say to him.

Was yelling at the top of my lungs as I stood before him the best tactic or was sitting and calm;y explaining a better route?

I was clueless, and as I watched him watch me I felt all the words I'd wanted to say retracing their steps away from the tip of my tongue. It took mere seconds for them to become a crowded mess in my brain again.

“Come see.”

I accepted the invitation, taking a seat opposite him on the coach. Being near him is the first step, I told myself hoping the words would eventually follow if I didn't try and force them.

The relief that flashed in his eyes nearly made me weep.

Despite everything he wanted me. Was this how I'd been with him in the past? Had I remained hopeful even as he pushed me away?

"I find this disk I forget all about." He explained gesturing towards the TV even as he looked at me.

My brows rose. "Disk?"

"You get scare of losing pictures or maybe damage them so you take to get backed up on DVD."

"Oooh." I nodded my understanding.

My eyes moved to the screen just in time to catch a picture of a younger Larry.

"You were so skinny.” I chuckled.

“You remember take these?” He quizzed and I narrowed my eyes on the cool toned photo of the twins.

“No.” I tilted my head as though it would jog my memory. “It's terrible.”

The picture was easily ten years old, and everything about it technically made me cringe. Then again, I was younger with none of the experience and expertise I had now. Mentally letting myself off of the hook, I peered at my husband and his twin, taking in the many ways they'd physically changed.

“Lau get so mad because he say you make me look better.” He cackled when the next picture came up.

“I probably did just to spite him.” I shrugged, as my gaze roamed over Larry's tattoo-less frame. “He was annoying as fuck back then.”

“I can't wait to tell him that!” He laughed. “Every time he see this picture my brother get mad and say the same thing. And you always deny but now you not remember you say the truth.”

His laughter brightened the room and I rolled my eyes with faux annoyance. “You bet not say shit to him.”

“He would get so mad! I swear!” He laughter hardened at the thought of agitating his twin.

Kissing my teeth, I playfully cut my eyes at him. “Go to the next picture.”

“Who is that?” I tilted my head, peering at me and a blonde haired girl that hadn't been in any of my memories.

Larry chuckled. “One of Lau's exes.”

The next picture was of me and another unfamiliar face. “Another ex?”

“Yeah.”

“What the fuck?” I shook my head with confusion. “Am I the president of Laurent's harem? Did I even like them?”

“I think you do,” He shrugged. “They both nice but not really talk to you after my twin be stupid.”

I made a sound in my throat but said nothing as Larry clicked forward to the next picture.

My breathing completely stopped when a younger me sans clothes and common sense consumed the screen. My eyes widened to double their size as I took in my too thin eyes brows, red tinged hair and thinner frame.

“Larry, what the fuck?!” His laughter filled the room yet again only this time I didn't find anything funny. I was confused. “Why the hell am I naked?!”

“I love this picture.” He sang as his eyes roam across the screen. “You don't remember this?”

“No!”

He chuckled. “You do this for my birthday.” His hand moved to his chin, rubbing the sparse hairs there as his eyes stared unmovingly at the screen. “This my favorite picture.”

“Who even took this? What was I even doing?” I was in utter disbelief.

This move totally sounded like something I would do for him but it was weird seeing it. Seeing me – my younger self, before marriage and failed pregnancies and stress from life posing candidly for my man, my love.

“You take. With time thing.” He explained, still looking at the screen.

“I don't remember my hair ever being red.” I noted, swallowing my initial shock.

“You change it fast.” My response took form as a distant sound in the back of my throat. “You send nudes always. I don't know why you so shocked.”

“This ain't just a nude.” I chuckled. “It was planned. This looks good.”

“Believe me,” He eyed me with a mischievous smirk. “They all look good.”

“I guess it's just weird seeing me at the stage of my life. I know this is when were happy.” My words were enough to disintegrate his smile.

“We go through a lot but I think we mostly always happy. I want you to know that.” His voice had taken on a solemn quality.

“I do.” I nodded. “But you know, the bad has a way of smudging out the good.”

“If you let it.” He muttered, switching to another picture.

“Wow.” I tooked in the aged photo. “I don't remember my granny much but I dreamed about her the other night.”

“What happen?”

“Uh – I was grown and she kept asking me about the baby.”

“Oh.” His voice and eyes dimmed.

“It kinda fucked with me but that's all my brain seems to do anyway.” I shrugged.

“You talk about her a lot – you used to.” Larry supplied the information with ease. “But she die when you young – 12 years old.”

“I loved her.” I knew that to be a fact.

I couldn't really remember or voice or envision her face without pictures but I knew she meant a lot to me. She was a safe haven, a major pillar in my life. She was my peace.

Larry slowly clicked to the next picture which dragged me further into my emotions. It was my mom and I. Sensing that he would skip it for the sake of my mental state, I grabbed the remote.

“I um –“ I cleared my throat as my eyes roamed the picture. “It was her birthday the other day.”

His expression told me he knew. “Why you not say anything?”

“Why didn't you?” I shot back and he shrugged. I didn't need his verbal answer because I already knew it. He didn't want to make me sadder than I already was.

“With losing my memory I kinda feel like I'm living some sort of weird ass second life. It's hard to explain but –“ I paused, peering at my mom. “It feels like my mom and my granny are only people that I've heard really detailed stories about. Like, you know how someone tells you about a person and you start to feel like you know them?”

He nodded as his eyes moved cautiously over my face. I could sense that he was waiting, and preparing himself, for me to crack. I wouldn't.

“That's how I feel. It's fucked up because I know my mom and granny – knew them. But it feels like I didn't. It feels like in this life,” I quoted with my fingers. “I'm super disconnected from them. My memories of them are sparse and far apart. It's weird.” I sighed, moving to the next picture before eyes that used to calm me like no other deduced me to tears.

“Chink,” Larry called only to be ignored.

“This bitch.” I hissed, eyeing a picture of Erin and I on somebody's beach.

“You know, we can not look at this right now.” Larry went for the remote but I quickly dodged him, switching to the next picture. “Come walk Millie with me and then we eat.”

“I'm fine, Larry.” He sighed but didn't protest as another picture of Erin and I came up.

“You remember a lot for her?”

“Hmmm.” I hummed. “I do but I swear in every memory me and her are fucking arguing.”

His brows rose. “Really?”

“Yeah, makes me wonder how we were ever even friends.”

“Maybe is just what you remember because you get along good with her. I mean, you fight sometimes like me and Lau but who don't.”

His words were hard to process and even harder to believe. My memories had shaped Erin to be more of a frenemy than anything.

“Well,” I sighed as another picture of my mom and I came up. I could tell it was around the time she started getting sicker. “She wasn't such a good friend after all was she?”

Larry knew exactly what I was talking about and I could tell from the look in his eyes that he didn't want to linger on the subject. He was smart.

“Where were we?” I paused on a picture of me in the pool.

He chuckled. “How you know I take this?”

“Wild guess.” I rolled my eyes.

“Tulum.”

“Old pictures of you make so happy.” I murmured, peering at a younger photo of him that I'd probably taken.

“Why?”

“I don't know.” I whispered the lie.

Old photos of Larry represented a love that was true – one without betrayal and lies and secrets. Old photos of him represented a time where he saw only me. A time where he considered himself to be deserving of my love and saw me as being equally as worthy of his – all of it. In the past I had no doubts or worries or fears – I had hope for a forever and Larry, then, embodied that. He'd been my future, my salvation – my remedy.

Silence drifted into the room and I did nothing to push it away. I used the silence to my advantage, focusing solely on bits and pieces of my past.

Jumbled up on this lone photo disk was everything. Things I'd forgotten, things I remembered. There were pictures of me as a lass, photos with family members I'd some how forgotten, pictures of the twins and all their awkwardness. The disk that I'd had made due to my paranoia was now acting as my saving grace.

It was proof that I had indeed lived a full life where I'd been happy and whole.

“What do you want to eat?” I quizzed, knowing I needed to talk to him. I'd look at pictures all day to avoid the task and I knew doing so was bad for both of us.

“It's a Brazillian spot down the street, or Mr. Chow.” I shook my head, knowing I didn't wanna go to Mr. Chow. That place put my mind too close to Pierre.

“I kinda want breakfast.”

“Cafeteria?”

“Yeah,” I muttered still halfheartedly clicking through the pictures.

“Okay, I walk Millie first then we–“ My gasp cut him off.

“Chink!” He called, seeing what I saw.

Acting fast, he went for the remote but it was too late. My eyes burned from familiarity, my heart ached from remembrance.

I dropped my face into my hands, wanting to unsee my bronzed skin, untamed hair and vivid green bikini because with those components came a protruding belly that housed a baby that hadn't made it. A precious baby boy named Laurent. An angel Larry had the chance to see and hold before he passed on.

My baby was only a part of my imagination. Up until this moment I'd never seen a picture of me pregnant. I had no stretch marks or maternity clothes. I had nothing but distant memories and the words of Larry.

“Fuck,” I whimpered, feeling Larry's arms along with a ton of dread wrapped around me.

Instead of soothing me he smothered me in angst, and regret. His warm hold felt constricting instead of comforting. His low murmurs echoed in my ears, morphing into rage filled howls. Even his scent that was usually tantalizing now reeked of bitterness and ire.

I winced as he apologized. His 'sorrys' and 'I didn't knows' pounded shards of repentance deeper into my heart. My pain coiled around my spine, blinding me with agony. With every second it intensified as the source shifted. Soon my tears weren't based on the child I'd just seen encased in my tanned belly – the one I'd lost. My tears now derived from the child that I hadn't allowed a chance to make my belly swell – the one I'd gotten rid of.

“I'm so sorry, Larry.” I croaked, my chest rattling as the words came to life on my tongue. “I'm sorry.”

“Marlee, it's okay, my baby.” He cooed, peppering kisses on my forehead.

He rocked me like a child, determined to dead my pain. He coddled and cosseted me when it should have been the other way around.

Larry was so many things. He was selfish and self-serving but nestled between the two was selflessness. It amazed and saddened me at the first same time.

In a matter of months I remembered a man who'd left me hanging when I needed him most while also experiencing a man who would carry me on his back to peace with his last bit of strength.

I could remember loosing our first child and feeling alone even though I wasn't. Larry had been there for me in every way yet I managed to push him away. We fought a lot and when we weren't fighting I was busy isolating myself. I remember feeling like loosing my baby affected only me, though Larry had lost the same thing. I'd blamed myself because it was my body that was designed to house and nurture our child and hadn't.

The second time around had been even more difficult. Reality had set in, making it apparent that I wouldn't be a mother without certain stipulations – stipulations that excluded my body as a whole. We had options, surrogacy and adoption, but I had no interest in either. And I think my failure to comply, mixed with my depression and overall poor attitude encouraged Larry to distance himself from. I didn't blame myself completely but I understood the part I played in that phase of our marriage.

By the third pregnancy, which was anything but planned, our marriage was inches away from the dumpster. In fact, immediately after the child was conceived what was left of our union deteriorated. My fears of both having another warped pregnancy and being alone led me to the abortion clinic. It had been a solo effort that Larry hadn't known about until after and in retrospect I felt terrible about it. And those feelings were raining down on me like shards of glass.

“Stop cry,” He urged as my wails grew in strength and sound, rattling my body. “Please don't cry, baby.” His lips were close to my ear, making it impossible for me to miss the pain webbed between his words.

He'd lost what I lost, I reminded myself. And he'd just seen the very same picture I'd seen yet instead of reacting to his own trauma he worked to rid of mine.

“Larry,” I murmured, freeing myself from his hold. “I'm so sorry.”

I was able to easily spot the confusion on his face even beyond the blur of my tears.

“Sorry – why baby?” He pulled me back to him but his eyes never flitted from my face.

“The abortion – I'm so sorry I got the abortion.” He froze and every part of him that was warm went cold.

His grip loosened before eventually falling away, leaving me to drift alone in my self-inflicted misery.

“Wha?” He blinked, furrowing sparse brows.

“I remembered,” I rasped.

A heavy bang at the door yanked me from my midday nap. Over and over a fist pounded at the door, fueling my anger and quickening my steps.

My quick movements caused a slight amount of pain to tug at my womb but my eagerness to figure out what the fuck was going on forced me to brush it off.

Not using my best judgment, I ignored both the peephole and ability of my own voice to figure out who the maniac on the other side of the door was.

I yanked the door open only to be met with the reddened face of my husband. His eyes were red and I couldn't tell if he'd been crying, if he was high or if he was suffering from extreme exhaustion.

"What you did?!"

"How did you find out where I was?" I asked though I already knew.

"I ask you one time and don't lie to me," His heat pressed against me as he moved forward. His anger pressed into my neck, making it hard to breathe. "Did you get abortion?"

The question was posed in the calmest manner but I saw right through it. I heard the slight rattle of his voice, felt his fury radiating off of his lengthy frame. And his fear, I could've smelled it from a mile away – it reeked, poisoning my suite with its pungent flare.

"Answer!"

My sharp intake of air soiled my calm façade just as his quivering voice had done his.

"If you're asking the question you already know the answer." I muttered numbly, moving away from him and further into the suite.

His hand curling around my wrist stopped me. "Say you lie, please?" He pleaded as his grip grew more constricting with every syllable. "Please," He begged.

I didn't respond. I couldn't.

"Marlee, please baby, tell me is not true." He was desperate for a truth I could not give him.

With a sigh, I dislodged my wrist, ignoring the present throb. "I can't carry children to term, Larry."

His neck nearly snapped in two as he jerked his head back. His nostrils threatened to tear as they flared and his every cranial vein pushed his skin to the limit, protruding dangerously.

"You said it yourself, my body can't carry kids." The 'private' conversation he'd had with his twin had nothing to do with this but I didn't care.

"You get abortion – yes or no?"

"Larry—"

"Yes or no?!" He roared, disturbing everything in the room.

"Yes!"

The silence that filled the space was deafening. The pressure made my eardrums pop and eyes water.

He was so still and so quiet that had I not been looking at him I would've been sure that he was gone. But he was wasn't. He was still there rooted in his spot as though he was glued there.

His eyes blazed with enough fire to wipe out of New York as he glared at me. I'd never seen so much disgust in his eyes – felt so much hate. My glare matched his, going against everything that I ever thought we would be.

Here we were, staring each other down, in a hotel suite I'd run away to after aborting his child, with enough heat and energy to build an atomic bomb. I never dreamed we'd turn into this. I never foresaw myself looking at him with such repulsion. I was nauseous and it had nothing to do with what I'd paid a doctor to do to me.

"I don't know why you mad – you don't even fucking want me." I snapped, pacing around his frozen frame. "Why don't you go have a baby with that Luzy bitch."

My words jolted him to life and within seconds he was in my face. His atomic heat melted away my resistance but I refused to crack. I refused to reveal that inside I was weeping and still longing for everything that he was.

“Don't ever say that shit to me again,” His voice was a low growl.

“Whatever.” I muttered, not knowing what part set him off the most – the part about him not wanting me or the part about Luzy.

“Y–you get pregnant and not tell me, Chink?” His voice cracked despite his effort to keep it steady.

“I called you, and where the fuck were you?! Where the fuck were you?” I pushed him and when that wasn’t enough I slammed a fist into his chest. “Huh?!”

“Stop touch me.”

“Fuck you, Larry!” My fist met his chest again.

“Fuck me?” His eyes blazed with fury. “You say fuck me when I come to you after find out that you get abortion? You my wife, Marlee.”

“And it seems that you only remember that when shit don’t go your way.” I scoffed. “I can’t have kids, Larry. I didn’t need your permission or approval to do what I did.”

“Is just as much my baby too, Marlee! How you so selfish?!”

“Selifish?”

“That’s what I say.” He deadpanned. “All this times we try for baby and it never be right because of whatever and you just get rid of one and it can be okay.”

A gnarly mixture of disbelief, anger and pain marred his face. His eyes blazed, showing his fury – they matched mine but our anger was rooted from two different places.

“And if it wasn’t?” I challenged only for him to refuse me an answer. “I can’t take another failed pregnancy, Larry. I’m not strong enough for that.”

“You say it like you have to be strong by yourself.”

“I don’t have you! Fuck you mean?!”

“I'm not you boyfriend or some guy you just fuck – I'm your husband!” He roared. “A decision like that can't be made without me!”

“Now you wanna be my husband.” My laughter was cold. “Get the fuck out.”

“I not leave until you tell me why you did what you did,” He growled, stepping even closer to me. “And why I go to Erin house to look for you and she tell me you have abortion?”

His admission knocked my world off its axis and nearly knocked me off my feet. My mouth fell open but nothing came out – not even a whisper of a breath..

“Answer!” He roared, pressing his forehead angrily to mine.

Ignoring both Larry and his rage, I moved away from him and over to the bed where I'd discarded a pair of sweats. Once they were covering my legs, I went for the pair of Jordans that hadn't housed my feet since I checked in days ago.

I felt Larry following me and heard his voice but my severe tunnel vision disabled my ability to react to him. Robotically I moved around the room, dressing and murmuring to myself. When I was dressed I spared him one last glance before leaving him alone in the suite.

His calls were all that followed me as I moved down the hall towards the elevator with my key card in my pocket and rage in my heart.

"A huge part of me feels like I made the right choice based on my physical ability to carry a child and my mental stability when it came to not being able to but—" I paused as Larry wiped at tears that wouldn't stop streaming. "I know my health wasn’t the only factor in my decision." I admitted to him for what I was sure to be the first time.

My memories painted a picture of an apathetic me, one who hadn't cared how Larry felt about the decision I'd made. I wanted redemption, though I was sure if I could do everything all over again I would've made the same choice while being more cognizant of Larry and his feelings.

"I was hurt and bitter and lonely but regardless of all of that I should have never excluded you from that decision." I sighed. “I'm sorry for that.”

“I forgive you.” I was more than positive that he'd said the words aloud moreso for himself than me. He needed that, and I understood.

“Thank you.” I whispered as his face nestled against my neck.

My hands moved to his scalp in an effort to comfort but deep down I knew there was nothing any part of me could do to make him feel at ease. I was lifting rugs, sending everything we'd swept under them flying everywhere. We were both uncomfortable – me because I was forcing myself to expose my deepest, most inner thoughts and him because I was bringing up shit he longed to forget.

"I remember thinking that you didn't want me and that you wanted Luzy because she could give you what I couldn't – and when she said that exact thing in those texts something in me died." I wanted to put him as close to knowing why I'd done what I'd done. He would never understand or relate but I wanted to grant him as much clarity as possible – even if he didn't want it.

"For years I felt like shit because I couldn't give you a baby. And I know it hurt you that I wouldn't try with other options like surrogacy." I sniffed, ignoring the fresh wave of tears that drifted down my face.

His lifted his head, peering at me with the saddest eyes I'd ever seen. They were damp and red but I knew he wouldn't cry. His selflessness would tug him away from his own emotions to tend to mine. And to prove my point, he reached out swiping my tears away with a gentle thumb.

"But I think you think I get mad and blame you and I don't." He insisted. "Yes, I want my way and I want baby but I understand and respect your feelings."

"Yet you went and told another woman about our... issues. You confided in her. You exposed my biggest flaw to her and," I wiped roughly at my face, completely over the waterworks. "I know you weren't being malicious but it felt like it."

"I just talk to her like my friend. I never complain or talk bad for you I just think I can trust her and tell her some things." He gripped my hand. “And I'm sorry for that. I know what she do embarrass you and make you look crazy and everything I say to her not right – I know this. Chink, I never love her or even want her – she just remind me of you when you happy and–“

“I hate when you say that.” I snatched my hand away from his. “Because I would never in a million years do what she did! So don't tell me that she reminded you of me. I'm not like that.”

“I'm sorry.” He quickly apologized and I nodded my acceptance.

Quiet consumed the room and I briefly wondered if we were even getting anywhere. We were exposing old wounds and saying things we should have said eons ago but for what? Were we trying to move on together? Or move on from each other? Was this closure? Or the peace we both longed for?

“How did this become us?” My questioned prompted more tears.

“We make so many mistakes.” He took my hand in his. “But I never stop loving you, Marlee.”

“How?!” I sniffed. “I did such a terrible thing to you.”

He frowned. “How you can ask me that when you love me no matter what I do? In the past and even stupid shit I do just 3 months ago?”

I shook my head. “I forgot everything – you never did.”

“And now you remember all the things I not want you to. So you don't love me anymore – because you remember?” His next breath was dependent on my response.

“Of course I love you.” I was almost offended.

“So I supposed to stop love you after you make one mistake when you love me no matter how many dumb shit I do?” I didn't answer – I couldn't answer.

He stared at me with an almost peeved expression, making me feel foolish. I totally understood what he was saying but what I'd done – the way I'd done it – was a lot.

“What you do,” He sighed, looking off. “It kill me. It break my heart – bad. And for so long I live my life angry about it – angry about you not tell me, about how I find out, about how I never know why,” He trailed off as his eyes trailed over the open space of our livingroom.

“I'm still pissed.” He looked down at me, not bothering to tend to my tears this time around. “I pissed off that you didn't tell me, that I was not there to hold you and make sure you okay when you do it – and I'm pissed off because I never know if that baby was a healthy one.” He breathed a sigh that caused his body to vibrate.

“Larry–“ I whimpered only for his voice to stampede over mine.

“But I know your fear and I have that fear too so I would have never in my life asked you to even be pregnant long enough to know if that baby was healthy – I just wish so bad that I was a part of that decision.” His weeping eyes fell onto mine. “But I get it – I know you and everything I do and I get it. You wrong for it but you human. I put you through so much and not be there when you need me so you act without me. I get it.” He was pounding the declaration into his own head. “But I'm still pissed.”

By now my tears had blurred my vision completely, making a mess of me. I sniffed and snotted, quaking against Larry as a mixture of guilt, angst and longing loomed in my lungs.

“Marlee, you have to forgive yourself.” Larry spoke, gripping my chin and raising my head. “This not about me forgive you – you have to forgive you first.”

“I can't.” I whined, covering my face with my hands.

“If you don't how you be happy – how we can be happy?” His speaking of a we made my soul quake.

I wanted so badly understand my feelings but I knew I never would, and because of that I wanted to bottle them up and toss them away. My memory wasn't sharp enough to understand. I felt disconnect from myself and damned near every decision that I'd ever made. The only thing I was sure I'd done right at this point was love Larry.

“I don't know.”

“I remember even when we young you feel like you don't deserve so many things – even me. You focus so much on all the bad that happen to you in your life that you try to push away the good because you think you not deserve it, or something bad happen to it.” He pulled my hands away from my face and stroked his fingers gently over my eyes, granting me sight. “You deserve everything you want, Chinky.”

He caressed my cheeks and stroked the pad of his thumb over my lips. “And I pray so hard to god that you still want me.”

I hope we can start brand new ‘cause I don’t wanna lose you..

#swbffic #lt fanfic

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writingwife-83 · 7 years

Text

Complicated Little Emotions- Part 1

Part 2 should be posted in the next couple of days. That’s where the direct sherlolly interactions will begin. Thanks for bearing with me, readers. ;))

The door to her flat shut, not even hard, but it still made Molly wince in pain. She stood there for a few moments, frozen with her arms crossed tightly over her middle as she felt heat pool in her face and pressure build throat. She could hardly breathe at first, and when her body finally insisted on air, the process became an agonizing combination of respiration and sobbing.

With her vision now horribly blurred, Molly marched down the hallway and into her bedroom. The force of her steps set Toby on alert and he jetted from the bed to hide underneath the armchair by her window. Which was fortunate for him, seeing as Molly was in no mood to be gentle with the bed linens.

She whipped the duvet and sheet from off the bed and tossed it on the floor, along with the throw blanket that hung on the footboard. She violently removed the pillow cases; all four regular ones and the two shams. Amongst sobs that were growing louder by the moment, she climbed onto the bed to tug the corners of the fitted sheets and mattress pad away from the mattress, sniffling as she finally balled them up and chucked them at the floor along with the rest of the items.

She collapsed then, atop her completely bare bed, curling up and weeping uncontrollably. How stupid she felt; utterly ridiculous and childish! Molly couldn’t even believe that she’d managed to convince herself that somehow things would be anything other than what they were this morning. How, in the moments that it took for her to make that decision the night before, did she conclude that things would somehow turn out well?

Molly lay there fifteen minutes later, spent from crying, staring blankly up at her ceiling. Toby felt it safe to join her and she absentmindedly scratched his fuzzy head and felt the soft rumbling of his purring against her side. It hurt so badly to lay there feeling like she did at that moment. The contrast to twelve short hours before was so very extreme. It really was too awful to dwell on. She decided that she really shouldn’t.

A few minutes later, Molly Hooper forced herself to get up, start the linens washing, get ready for work, and get on with her life.

Sherlock pulled up a chair and sat down across from his brother, both of their expressions weary, even three weeks after their lives completely changed. Mycroft dumped a file on the desk in front of Sherlock and smiled tightly.

“All loose ends officially tied then?” Sherlock questioned softly as he picked up the file.

“Yes, I should say so. Even Mummy and Daddy seem relatively at ease.” Mycroft sighed. “Largely thanks to you.”

The two brothers exchanged a look for a moment, both fully aware of the part that each of them had played, good and bad, and the way their lives would never be the same.

Mycroft drew a deep breath. “Oh and the search was done, as you requested. During the work day of course, so she was completely unaware.”

Sherlock’s leaned forward in interest and he set the file down again. “And?”

“Completely clear of danger, as Eurus stated. No explosives. We found the surveillance cameras though. All have been removed from Molly Hooper’s flat.”

Sherlock released a breath. “Good,” he stated softly. “Thank you, Mycroft.”

“Interestingly,” Mycroft went on. “The surveillance was not just found in her kitchen. There were also cameras found in each room of her flat. “

The younger Holmes eyes widened a bit as he listened to his brother.

“Naturally she could have been in any room when answering her mobile and that had to be accounted for, but it would also explain why Eurus would have been so sure of herself when setting up that particular challenge for you. Especially since the cameras had been there for at least a few weeks. Enough time to collect a bit of dust…and the necessary evidence.”

"Evidence? What evidence?” Sherlock fired back.

Mycroft smiled in his typical know-it-all way. “The evidence that you just all but spelled out for me.” He folded his hands atop the desk. “You must realize how colossally transparent you are at the moment.”

Sherlock paused, looking down for a moment. “And where did the surveillance footage go?” His voice had gotten a little smaller, perhaps even a bit sheepish. “Was it being fed back to Sherringford? And if so…what happened to it?”

“It was being fed there, yes. And I was going to leave its ultimate fate to you. I could of course have my people review it if-“

“No,” Sherlock answered without hesitation. “Absolutely nobody is to review that footage.”

Mycroft’s brow shot up. “It’ll be going in the bin then, I assume?”

"Yes," Sherlock agreed firmly before standing and buttoning his suit jacket. “There’s absolutely no need to compromise Molly’s privacy any further.”

“Or yours?” Mycroft asked receiving a small glare from his brother. “There’s little point in denying it.”

Sherlock picked up the file and marched to the door. “Thank you for providing the final report. And if you could continue to provide a helicopter biweekly at the previously specified time, that would be appreciated.”

“Indefinitely?” Mycroft questioned.

“Is our sister ever again to see the light of day?” Sherlock asked with his hand poised at the door.

Mycroft’s expression fell a bit. “You know very well that she can’t,” he confirmed solemnly.

Sherlock nodded. “Then yes…indefinitely.”

"And have you spoken to Molly Hooper? Since that day?"

Sherlock stopped again before opening the door. He turned to face his brother again. “What do you care?”

Mycroft shrugged. “Call it curiosity I suppose. I wondered if perhaps there was more damage done than what was inflicted on that ill fated coffin.”

Sherlock’s lips were set in a hard line and his eyes were tired. “Let’s put it this way- that was the last call of mine that she’s answered. And when I’ve seen her in passing, she is indifferent at best. I imagine that I could more easily piece together that stupid coffin than anything resembling a friendship with Molly Hooper.” He smiled wryly at his brother. “Thank you for asking.”

With that, Sherlock took his leave.

Mycroft sat there silently for a moment, alone with his thoughts. But finally, he pressed the intercom on his phone. “Anthea, would you come in here for a moment? I have a small but urgent delivery that I’d like for you to arrange.”

“Molly, thanks again,” John said as he walked into her flat.

“No problem. She was a peach, as usual,” Molly stated with a smile. “I can go get her up now if you need to run.”

“Oh no, it’s fine. Give her a few more minutes sleeping. And here, I grabbed your mail for you.” He set the envelopes and things on her kitchen counter.

Molly started flipping through but made a face when she came to a plain white heavier envelope with just her name on the front. “This was in there too?”

“Yeah it was.”

She opened it and pulled out a DVD…with nothing but a date written on it. A date three weeks ago she’d rather forget. She’d had a bad day.

“John, what is this?” Molly demanded, her voice hardening.

Fear flooded John’s gaze now. “I- I dunno. But there’s been quite a lot of DVDs being mailed around these days so…maybe we should call Sherlock.”

“No!” Molly looked embarrassed right away after shooting down that offer so quickly. “I just, um, I haven’t spoken to him in a few weeks so…”

“Yeah, about that...look, I think he’d really like to-” John paused, clearly not sure what to say himself. “A lot happened on that island and with his sister. Things I didn’t want to tell you the last time we talked because I’m sure there’s some of it he’d like to explain himself if you gave him the chance.”

Molly shook her head, staring down at the disk. Yes, she knew where the three men had been some weeks ago and that this was when she’d received that dreadful phone call, but beyond that she wasn’t even sure if she wanted to know more.

“John, I’m glad you told me what you did before, but really, anything that Sherlock has to say...I dunno if I’m ready to hear it.”

“I think you’ll want to,” John said softly.

She smiled at John as best she could. "I'll think about it.”

“Hey, do you want me to stay? Are you gonna try and watch that now? Just in case of...whatever it is.”

Molly nodded. “Yeah. Maybe you should stay. I mean, what if it’s…” She swallowed hard.

John nodded. “Right. Ok let’s do this then.”

They made their way into the sitting room and John set up the DVD. He took a seat next to Molly on the sofa and gave her hand a little pat before pressing play. They were both equally shocked when Mycroft’s face appeared on the screen.

“Hello, Dr. Hooper,” Mycroft said with a smile. “Not to worry, everything is fine. I simply thought there was something you should see with your own eyes. I believe I can be at least partly held responsible for much of what occurred some weeks ago, so perhaps I feel the need to right a few wrongs. Please do take my advice and give the rest of this DVD a watch. It is something that is difficult to comprehend if you haven’t witnessed it with your own eyes. And I believe it is something you have the right to understand to the full.” One more small smile and Mycroft’s face disappeared.

Before either Molly or John could say anything, the picture switched to a stone room with a coffin on display in the middle. At that moment, John’s hand went to his mouth.

“Oh God, this is at Sherringford.”

“What?” Molly looked horrified. “You mean where you all were? With Eurus?”

Sherlock's voice came on then.

“Is there really no one there that can help you? Have you really really checked?”

Molly began listening to the exchange between him and the little girl’s voice with her heart in her throat. But that was nothing compared to her level of anxiety once Eurus began speaking to him and explaining about someone’s life hanging in the balance.

“Whose coffin, Sherlock? Please, start your deductions.”

Molly felt John grab her hand at that moment. Clearly he knew this wasn't going to be pleasant. She listened as Sherlock rattled off the particulars of what sort of person would inhabit this coffin and then saw his face shift as Mycroft presented him with the plaque on the top of the lid. And then Sherlock face truly fell as he made the final deductions about who the coffin must be for.

“Oh God,” Molly breathed, squeezing John’s hand tighter. “I don’t know if I can-“

“No, Mycroft is right,” John countered, back and shoulders straight. “He’s right, you need to see this. But I’m right here, I’ll stay with you.”

Only minutes later and she was softly weeping while staring at the screen with her heart pounding in her ears. Molly held her breath at her own hesitance to respond to the repeated declaration from Sherlock. He stared at the screen, begged desperately, and Molly squeezed John’s hand all the more tightly as she watched herself take her time bringing the phone close to her lips and then finally whispering the words in return.

“I love you.”

Molly covered her face for a moment as a sob escaped but John tugged at her hands.

“No no, Molly, please keep watching.”

She wiped at her eyes and focused on the screen again as she listened in horror to Eurus words explaining to Sherlock that there was never any danger and that he’d done nothing but succeeding in hurting himself and her. She watched in some confusion at first as Sherlock walked slowly over and picked up the lid to the coffin and put it in place, running his hand along the top. But a second later her hand flew to her mouth again and she let out a little gasp at the sight of Sherlock losing all control and smashing the coffin to bits with his bare hands. She could hear his screams echoing and watched as he finally collapsed against the stone wall and slid down to sit, completely spent of energy, looking broken and beaten.

A second later, the screen went black.

“Oh God,” Molly murmured and then covered her face again and let the tears fall freely. John put his arms around her and held her tightly for a moment. When she finally pulled away, she sniffed and sighed. Mycroft was right. She had needed to see that with her own eyes.

“He never meant to hurt you, Molly,” John said softly. “It was the last thing Sherlock wanted. And the knowledge that he had, and not even for the purpose of saving your life…” He shook his head. “I think that it broke him. We watched people, innocent people, die in front of our eyes, most of them because of decisions that we were forced to make. But he didn’t break down like that at any other moment that day. Only then, only about you.”

She nodded. “Yeah, I um, I didn’t think he could be that cruel. I was surprised that even he would pull something like that; demanding something like that over the phone. Especially given what we’d-“ She stopped herself and smiled nervously at John. “I should probably just talk to him.”

He smiled and gave her back a little rub. “Yeah I hope you two, you know, work it out. I know he can be a git, but he cares. He really does care about you. He wanted to save your life, but I don’t think he was lying, especially not losing it like he did. I know what it means to um…” He scratched his temple, hesitating. “To be afraid of losing someone who means that much. It can very nearly tear you apart.”

She put her arm around him, giving his shoulder an extra squeeze. Of course he knew what was like.

“Thanks, John,” Molly said genuinely. “And thanks for staying with me. It wasn’t easy to watch. Nothing like having to live through it though, I’m sure.”

“We’re all just happy to be safe now.” John started to get up, but then stopped and spoke again. “By the way, it wasn’t really what I was able to appreciate in that moment seeing as, you know, I thought you were about to be blown to bits.”

Molly couldn’t help a small laugh, despite the gravity of the whole thing.

“But, if I’m able to factor that bit out now,” John continued with a look of something like deep respect. “That had to be one of the most...amazing things I’ve ever seen someone make Sherlock do; to say those words. For whatever it’s worth, it was incredible to witness.”

Molly smiled. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was incredible in a way. She certainly did consider it a bit of a miracle in that moment. Though, she could hardly call it a victory. There were no winners, not really. Maybe Eurus had been right.

As John packed up Rosie and her things and left that afternoon, Molly was left with the realization that nothing was simple. Nothing was as simple as the fact that they were all alive and walking around and grateful for that fact. It was all so much messier and more complicated than that.

And now, all the complications would just have to be dealt with.

#sherllolly #mollock #TFP fic #complicated little emotions #my writing #good lord this was slow going lol #it's also on AO3 #but I figured some might want to read it on here #thanks again!#*runs and hides*#seriously the weight of that scene is more than I can handle and it's made me a nervous writer haha

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