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x-amount-verbs · 2 years

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A Helping Hand - Part 5

[start here] || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6

[silco x f!reader] [3.5k words] [no y/n] [during timeskip] [touch-starved reader] [henchwoman!reader] [rated M] [physical therapy] [PT dom silco] [major dom vibes, that’s all I’m saying]

waited past midnight so I can officially say happy sinday :) -verbs

AO3 Link

This time, you don’t miss your appointment. You still need a new watch, but the office you’ve been granted (or the desk, at least, since office is a strong word for that room) has a clock. You actually head up early— and it’s only half out of spite.

A knock, a murmured invitation, and you walk in to find Silco with that little notebook open on the desk in front of him.

Once the door is closed, you wander toward the desk, resting your thumb on the butt of your pistol; back to old habits while your other arm is tucked into the sling across your chest.

Silco’s eye narrows at the sling, mouth tightening, but then his gaze drifts to the movement of your hand at your belt. There’s the smallest cock of the head - a 2° tilt - and the subtle shift of expression reads as almost entertained. Barely. Regardless, he certainly isn’t threatened by the weapon at your side.

Which is good, cause you’re not threatening him.

“Refusing to use one arm, but taking up the other?” he asks, casually.

He isn’t wearing that power at the moment. It’s so easy to tell. It slips on and off, or gradually increases like a dial. When he isn’t purposefully going for intimidation - or, for all you know, when he’s actively trying not to intimidate - it’s much easier for you to speak. And move. And do anything, honestly, without the oppressing weight of authority looming over you.

You almost let an amused smirk peek through.

He continues, in a smooth drawl, “…Though I can’t guess how useful it will be, in your current state…”

That does get your lips to turn, the smallest bit. You slide your thumb along the grip before pulling the weapon from its holster, keeping it low and not pointing at anything. Besides, the safety is on. It’ll be a little rough to take off with one hand, but it’s possible. “Left handed.” Looking down at the gun is easy. You spin it around a finger. “Surprised you didn’t know that,” you add. It’s so close to a taunt.

There’s no reply, but when you look up, you think you spot that tiny approving purse of his lips as he looks at his notes. It’s an expression you know the feeling of, because you’ve done the exact same thing. You did the same thing, not even a minute ago; hiding your amusement.

“Take a seat.”

So it begins again. The power in the air around him dials up to a persistent hum.

You sit. Without him needing to ask - or even give you a look - you slip off the sling.

Silco asks the standard questions, you give the same answers. No, there haven’t been issues. No, there hasn’t been progress. No, you don’t feel anything.

He comes around to the front of the desk, for this test that feels almost ritualistic in its process. That aura of power feels thick in the air.

You take a breath, bow your head, and let him touch you.

Regardless of how much his presence unnerves you for its closeness, you accept it as a necessary evil. You close your eyes, and try to guess the movements as he manipulates the device. That might be your thumb, it’s at a different spot in your arm. That one seems weaker, like the pinky. One you’re pretty sure if your middle finger, but it could be index, they feel similar.

It’s not the same as feeling real touch - nowhere near the same thing as feeling flesh brush against yours - but an idea of the movement is something.

Hair raises on your skin as his grip shifts to your forearm, the part that’s easier to sense. A tiny wavering of anxiety makes you open your eyes again, feeling wary and trying not to show it. Looking at the arm, like it can somehow prepare you for the touch. You stare at his hands.

It’s overcompensating, you know, but you silently count your burdened breath in and out as one hand curves around your arm, and skin moves against skin. You won’t let him see how it affects you. The way your pulse kicks up. You hope he can’t feel the goosebumps.

And once again, it’s over. Silco steps away. You can breathe easy. The weight of authority fades again, back to a barely noticeable hum.

Which is good, cause as soon as that dumbbell comes out, you stifle a groan.

You’re 80% sure that Silco’s audible breath was basically a laugh. “Use the sofa.” His tone is dry; “The floors don’t deserve your abuse.”

Your lips purse as you really really resist rolling your eyes. You go for the weight with your good hand.

All it takes is a gesture. A single movement, just raising one of his fingers an inch off the desk. He doesn’t need to lift a hand to stop you, you simply know.

You bite your tongue, and reach with the prosthesis instead.

Picking it up from beneath would be easier, but you know that isn’t what he wants. So you come in from above, watch to make sure everything is solid, and hold particularly tight to lift it. You’re turning toward the sofa when a shiver goes up your spine, a flush heating your cheeks.

He didn’t even need to say it.

You still hear it in his voice, in your head.

Good girl.

Your grip stays tight, luckily, and you make it to the couch. You are very grateful that, in order to keep the bad arm over the cushions, you can have your back to him.

This is normal. This is a totally normal thing to have pop into your head. You’re thinking of it out of annoyance, anticipating a thing he did that irritated you. That is all.

This is fine.

You start your reps. Lightweight, stupid little wimpy reps. It’s not cheating, exactly, but with your grip from beneath, as long as you keep the thumb still you can be pretty assured the thing won’t slip. It doesn’t require as much attention to keep hold this way as it does to lift from above, where gravity is working against your grip strength. With less attention needed, your gaze can wander.

This is far from the first time you’ve been in Silco’s office, but before this week you usually only got called in for briefing, debriefing, and if something went wrong. Once you’d been assigned to the armory district instead of the wharf, things rarely went wrong (just one of the reasons Pashek is a menace). Now, you take in the walls, the floors, the–

Well that’s adorable.

Your movements barely falter as you hide a smirk at the graffitied ashtray on the coffee table. Paint markers in neon pink and royal blue: clouds and stars and bursts. You suspect this is a Jinx original; she had similar colors on the metal tin things hanging from her belt when she visited earlier.

Beside the ashtray is a humidor. On top of the humidor, a cigar cutter. And next to them both…

You frown, and now your pace slows. The bin is full of wonky-looking paintballs. Rejected failures that are underfilled, overfilled, that have pinpricks that threaten to leak paint into any mechanism they try to load. This isn’t your first time seeing paintballs. But why here?

The question is answered moments later.

You hear a drawer open. That could be nothing. Then Silco’s chair moves, and you purposefully avoid looking over. For all you know, he’s just doing… y’know… work… stuff? More importantly, you don’t want to get caught staring. But his footsteps come in your direction, so you let your head turn to watch.

He walks deliberately. Not hurried, not slow, but with a deliberate and purposeful ease.

Your eyes drop to the items in his hands: a bottle of vaguely viscous clear liquid, a rag, and a small empty bin almost identical to the first.

More notably, though— you can’t help but look at bared forearms, shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows. Cords of lean muscle wrap up his arms like a weapon. Calloused hands. But what most attracts your attention isn’t the (annoyingly attractive, though you don’t want to even contemplate that issue) musculature, but the marks.

A few short ghostly scars echo your own: defensive, taken in the service of keeping you alive. Marks of survival, and proof that you’re not so easy to kill. It makes your own darker, fresher scars seem less grotesque, somehow. Like knowing the inarguable validity of his validates your own.

You’re staring.

You realize it when Silco stands still. Ears heat as you recognize that he’s waiting for you to pay attention, to look him in the eye. You try not to look sheepish as you do so.

The way he looks down that stupid too-sharp nose of his at you is—

Frustratingly—

It—

Ugh, you don’t like how you feel when he does that. The way his confidence seems to ensnare you. The number one most annoying thing about it is— it’s not bad. It’s infuriatingly not bad. Because whatever this is, this pull into his gravity, it is so far from useful. He’s your boss. You are a project to him. And that’s all.

Now stop thinking and pay attention.

“I’ve modified your recovery program.” He’d implied something of that sort yesterday. “You lack control. You have no precision-”

“Because I can’t feel my fingers.”

You’ve interrupted him, but he doesn’t speak over you. No, instead he’s stopped talking altogether. That hellfire eye fixes on you and your stomach drops. Guilt chews at a spot behind your ear. The blush hits your neck. Eyes flick away to look at his lapel instead of his face. “Sorry,” you say quietly.

He waits to speak, letting you sit in the uncomfortable silence. Finally, he deigns to go on. “To combat this, I have a task for you.” He practically tosses the second bin onto the table. “Right hand only. One at a time. Grasping between forefinger and thumb or middle and thumb for the largest ammo, between forefinger and middle or middle and ring for the smallest.” You can hear the self-satisfied taunt in his voice as he goes on; “If you can keep your hands clean, you may even get a reward.”

You pick up on the significance of the task easily. They’re not the usual hard paintballs, so they’re more likely to break if you pinch too hard. The ones with leaks will spill out if you squeeze even the tiniest bit.

There’s no fucking way you can do this without getting paint on your hands.

But judging by the expectant look he’s leveling on you, he’s going to make you try anyway.

—

The bottle he brought to the table was mineral oil.

You learn that after thirty minutes of abject failure. After the first five or so paintballs, Silco had deemed you capable of continuing the task without his supervision, and returned to his desk. Pellet after pellet you dropped them, or squished them, or had the liquid overflow to stain the hand.

The hardest ones were the smallest, trying to pinch along a completely different axis, between thinner digits. After your first several fumbles, you realized - and felt like an idiot for the delay - that using the structure of the prosthesis, rather than your expectations of a regular hand, was ten times more useful.

Your normal hand has hard knuckles, and fleshy bits between them that have more give. But the fake one dips in at the joints, offering a wedge to help grip the smooth shell. If you go in at an angle, you can almost scoop, and use the divots to prop the ball more on top of the fingers than between them.

It was cheating, sure, but it was effective.

By the end of that task, however, once all the balls are moved from one bin to the other, you’re still left sporting a multicolored hand.

“Done,” you announce, plainly.

Silco doesn’t look up right away, finishing whatever he’s in the middle of reading, letting you wait. When he does come over, he holds out his hand.

Dutifully, you reach out with the prosthetic hand, fingers drumming the air, maybe too happy to potentially get paint on the man who assigned the task. He grips lower on your forearm instead, your arm lifted at an awkward angle to keep him from having to bend down.

The slight tsk against his chipped teeth is sarcastic. “Far from spotless.” His smooth disappointment is the fakest thing you’ve ever heard. Releasing your arm, he plucks the bottle off the table, and the rag. “Mineral oil. It will get the paint off, and keep the hand’s joints lubricated.”

…Dumb brain really wants to fixate on that word now, doesn’t it.

You take a breath, shunting that thought aside, and dedicating your attention to your next task. It’s only once you notice that Silco hasn’t left that you realize there’s another little challenge to do, first.

Getting the stupid fucking bottle open.

You don’t look at him, just commit to getting it done— and quickly, so he can’t chastise you for using your good hand to grip the bottle cap. It’s only once it’s done that you look up. His lips are tight, eye very slightly narrowed, but he makes no comment. He isn’t even exerting that bizarrely tangible will on you, either.

Reassured by that success, you navigate the blunt motor skills of wetting the rag and closing the bottle, and then get to work.

It feels so incredibly weird.

Your scrubbing with the cloth is rough, clumsy, frustrated at the device’s fingers for getting in the way. Four separate times the rag gets pinched at a joint when you bend a finger. You don’t like how the plate in the center of your palm shifts so much, even if you know there’s a good reason (couldn’t close the hand if it had a single static plate for the whole palm).

The tiniest “hn” noise pulls your attention back to him, making you freeze, eyes snapping up to his.

Your sudden pause causes his mouth to do that little hidden smirk. Then the words slip out easily, like they’ve been rolling around his mouth, a marble of a thought he took his time in tasting. “You’re quite responsive, aren’t you?”

The question isn’t a question, it’s an observation, dropped in that low musing purr, the marble of thought cracking against the table. It’s like he turned the dial to 11 in the space of five seconds. Like he grabbed your attention in a vise grip and holds you by your collar, inches off the ground. He did nothing, he stayed completely still; how is it so apparent? How does the power just ripple off of him in waves?

Heat floods through you at the underlying current of his tone, 100% sure that he’s teasing you.

He’s right, though.

You're painfully responsive, when it comes to him.

Your mouth opens, like you might answer, but you have no words. So you quickly press your lips closed and shift your focus to his collar rather than his face, blinking yourself back to some degree of composure. Mutely, you manage a stiff one-shouldered shrug.

Yes. Obviously yes.

There’s another soft huff of a laugh. He’s laughing at you, because you’re pathetic. Plainly. That is just— it’s obviously what he would think. A project, an employee, an Undercity sump rat who can’t even keep her own godsdamned hand. And here you are, jumping at every little sound he makes. You aren’t timid— quiet, at times, when you’re too busy watching and too smart to run your mouth, but not timid. But you feel like it with him. At least, when he does this.

Your annoyance may be showing in your face, in the tiny notch forming between your brows. You can’t help it. He’s a frustrating man. The way he makes you feel is irritating— irritated, the way he makes you feel is irritated, yes, that’s exactly what you meant all along. That’s exactly what you feel.

You will stubbornly keep telling yourself that for as long as it takes to sink in.

“Have you been touching yourself?”

Your heart stops, wedged into your throat with the speed of a hydraulic press. Just jammed in there, making you choke.

Every thought leaves your brain, except that voice saying those words.

You can hardly guess how you look, staring up at him with blank eyes, your mind having come to a complete halt.

Did he really just—

His brow raises, waiting for an answer. When you offer none, he reiterates the question.

“Have you been touching your new hand?” he repeats, a bit more specifically; “Getting used to feeling it on your own skin?”

The skin in question burns, flaming at his choice of words.

Hhh.

Look…

There was a moment, ages ago, when you grudgingly accepted that Silco, while not conventionally attractive, was - for whatever reason - attractive to you, specifically. With every caveat needed to reason that one out.

And like any smart Undercity resident, you promptly shoved that realization under your metaphorical bed, to bury it on a dark night, somewhere no one would ever have to acknowledge it again.

And then he asked you that question.

The slight twist of his lip could be amusement or frustration, it’s very hard to tell. Maybe both.

His hand goes out, and you offer the prosthesis without hesitation. You try to ignore the heat of a blush that makes everything feel too tight and confined. All you can do is stare, busy doing the necessary mental gymnastics to move past this point of the conversation.

When he gestures again, you offer the cloth, and sit silently as he finishes the job you started.

Oh gods, you’ve been quiet for so long. Silco will start thinking you’re stupid. Or worse: he’ll figure out exactly where your mind went— if he doesn’t know already.

“I don’t like it,” you blurt.

His eyes flick to your face before returning to the task of cleaning the last specks of paint from your prosthetic hand. “How unfortunate,” his voice is flat. “Perhaps next time you should do it correctly yourself.”

“Not— not your—” You trip over your own tongue, just barely stopping yourself from admitting that you don’t mind him touching you at all. “The hand,” you explain. “I don’t like it.”

Silco’s movements stay methodical, thumb polishing the cloth against a particularly stubborn bit at the edge of a seam of your palm. The slow breath he exhales is more patient than you expect. His words are even, but not gentle. “I regret to inform you that you won’t find a better option. Your participation in this experiment is theoretically voluntary.” He meets your eyes, and there’s a simmering bitterness there you don’t expect. “Your disfigurement is not.”

For a second all you can see is that hellfire eye. Then it sinks in. Oh. He’s very aware of this feeling, isn’t he? How long has he had that eye? How long did it take for him to accept the change?

You lower your face. “I know.” It’s an unwilling acceptance, said with not a small amount of reticence, but acceptance nonetheless. At least, vocally. Emotionally, you’re not so sure you’re there yet.

Silco’s attention shifts back to the prosthesis, finishing the work in the silence that falls between you. Finally, he speaks, pointedly detached. “If you don’t think you’re capable of enduring the adjustment period, I will simply have it ripped out.”

“Don’t—” Your head snaps up, closing ceramic fingers around his hand, trying to do so more delicately than your first disastrous effort. The word is a plea, but you’re not sure you’re willing to outright beg. Not yet. Just a silent entreaty in your gaze. You need time. You have so much to process.

He stares down at your fingers closed around his. Lips tighten, and you worry he’s angry. Quickly, you release your hold again, anxious that you may have misjudged the strength of your grip.

Extricating himself from your hold, Silco releases you, wipes his hands on the rag, and tosses it down onto the table. “This denial ends now.”

Oh no it doesn’t.

You shove that thought away, tucking the hand against yourself, dimly aware of how warm it is. He means the prosthesis, you know he does.

“That-” A finger flicks vaguely in the direction of the desk. “-stays here.” Right, the sling. “You cannot fight what you’ve become.” It’s not angry, not some spitting ferocity, but something running beneath his words - some inexplicable tenacity - nearly makes you breathless. This is why you believe in Silco. His passion, his assuredness, his silent belief in his own power, in his own monstrosity.

It’s breathtaking.

His gaze has slid away from you, a hand running through his hair. Finally, he walks back to his desk, back to his throne. He almost sighs as he sinks back into his chair. “Come back when you’re ready to take this seriously.”

And once again, you’ve been dismissed.

—

[next part]

[ :)

Anyway, I like this one. And I crave reactions. Gimme your comments, your replies, your tags. I was impatient to share this because— well I mean. And don’t get me started on the next chapter, that should be a sinday drop too.

Standard boost request, to please reblog if you want to help combat the tumblr tags. AO3 link, tag list is here, and seriously, I crave validation via reactions XD ❤️ -verbs]

Tag list: @hawk4president @mello-jello29 @jennrosefx @dad-dumpster @ellhd-imagination @zuckerwattencupcake @meep-moop-mystic @of-the-argonath @arrlaauud @witxhy-lexx

#silco x reader #silco/reader #silcoxreader #silco #silco arcane #silco x f!reader #arcane fanfic #wip:a helping hand #a helping hand #x-amount-writes

203 notes · View notes

goldenroutledge · 3 years

Note

Hii! Could you do 3 "I'm so lucky" from the list d and 1 "taking each other’s hands during a stressful situation, instantly reliveing the pressure of the situation" from list b with jj please? Thank you 💙

sweet girl

pairing: jj maybank x female!reader

word count: 2.1k

warning(s): reader has a fear of heights, swearing

a/n: it feels like it’s been forever since i’ve posted an actual imagine. this is based on one of my favorite obx scenes. probably not what you were expecting anon but i hope you like it! 💙

jj maybank masterlist

“I think I know how we’re gonna find out who owns that Grady-White.” John B announced to the group, pointing his finger up as he concocted his plan.

Almost in unison, you all caught onto each other’s thoughts as Kiara tossed John B the motel key. All except for Pope, who’s uneasy expression gave away his discomfort about the situation. “Are you sure? We don’t know who’s in that room.”

“We’ll never know unless we try to find out.” You advised, nudging him with your elbow as you followed Kiara and JJ down the wooden planks of the dock and back to the Pogue.

“At least you’ll only be an accomplice.” John B offered with a shrug and a wink, taking the lead of the others and hopping onto the boat.

“Well, this isn’t sketchy at all.” You thought out loud, the boat nearing the torn down Summer Winds Motel sign.

“This does not look like a place someone with a Grady-White would stay.” JJ added.

“This looks like a place where someone with a Grady-White would get killed.” Pope emphasized. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Just stay on the lookout for us.” John B told him. “We shouldn’t be too long, anyways.”

“We’ll keep an eye out.” You assured him, taking a seat in your normal spot on the boat and stretching your legs out in front of you.

“Nope. You’re coming with us, Y/n.” John B stated. “Someone’s gotta keep JJ under control.”

JJ muttered some words of dispute under his breath while you scoffed, not interested in having to keep JJ in line. “I’m not a babysitter, John B. JJ can handle himself.”

“I sure can.” The blond spoke up firmly in concurrence with you.

“I think that might be the first thing you two have agreed on all day.” Kiara chimed in, more so to herself.

“Come on, Y/n. You’ve always been good at pointing things out right? What if you find something that I’m overlooking? We need your help.”

“It doesn’t seem like your partner-in-crime agrees.” You remarked, though you accepted the hand John B held out for you. “But whatever. I guess someone has to be reasonable.”

“Be careful.” Kiara warned, more so in the direction of John B. “I mean it.”

“We will.” He assured.

John B and JJ took the lead up the creaky steps, which didn’t appear all that safe, as you held your breath in passing the moldy mattresses set out along the railings of the deck. The antics of your two friends in front of you caught your attention, JJ playfully massaging John B’s shoulders.

“Just be so, careful John B.” JJ mocked in a softer tone, before cutting the act as he was shoved off by his friend. “Dude, what the heck was that about?”

“I don’t know, maybe she wants us to be careful?”

“When are you gonna stop being so oblivious and swoop on that, man?”

“Why do you care? You’re the one that’s always hitting on her.” John B pointed out.

“Of course I’m always hitting on her. She’s a super hot, rich hippie chick slumming it with us. Why, I don’t know. But who cares, bro? I know that door’s locked because I’ve tried it. Have you?”

“You need help. Not just a little bit of help, you need a lot of help. Because with any girl who has a heartbeat you just turn into a zombie.” John B jeered, mimicking zombie noises while letting his arms dangle in front of him.

As JJ opened his mouth again to defend himself, you pushed past the two boys, snatched the key and began walking ahead of them. “Can we focus? I didn’t realize this was a therapy session.”

“Don’t let your jealousy get the best of you, Y/n. It’s not a good look.” The blond teased.

“And remind me, what am I jealous of again?”

“Not being the subject of my charm.”

“Oh, please. I could go my entire life without it.” You insisted sarcastically, paying more attention to the room numbers decorating the doors.

“That’s what they all say.” JJ quipped. “But there’s no need to worry, I’ll still flirt with you too.”

“Lucky me.” You responded, going to push the key into the lock before his hand paused your movements.

“Wait, Y/n. Just barge on in why don’t ya. We have to at least knock.”

You rolled your eyes and handed the key back to John B, who also seemed fed up with the banter between you and JJ. “Housekeeping!” JJ piped up in a much higher pitch than usual, knocking twice with his knuckles.

There was no response, so you all took it as your answer to go inside. JJ of course went straight for the bags and belongings in the room, rummaging through them to find something to steal, making comments about the quality of the items occasionally. You followed him into the bathroom, to which he turned around and shined his flashlight right in your face.

“So.. I can’t even take a piss alone? What’s up with that?”

You ignored him, folded your arms across your chest and leaned against the wooden doorframe. JJ could only get on your nerves if you let him. “Finding anything?” John B shouted.

“Not with Y/n breathing down my neck.” The blond responded, reaching for a deodorant he was about to pocket from the bag of toiletries.

You slapped it out of his hand just as fast as he had picked it up. “We’re not stealing anything, JJ. Don’t even think about it.”

“Too late.” He smirked in your face, dangling a watch from his fingers that he must’ve picked up on the way in.

“Guys? You’re gonna wanna come see this.” John B called out with a dumbfounded look on his face as his flashlight shined inside a safe. The two of you followed his voice, just as in awe as he was upon seeing the cash inside of it.

“Holy shit.” JJ let out barely above a whisper. “Holy shit!” He cheered this time in a much louder but gratified tone as he looked closer, snatching a wad of cash in one hand and a gun in the other.

“JJ! Put it back!” You reprimanded, trying to snatch the stolen items away from him. He pocketed the cash, but held up the gun and began posing as if he were in an action film.

“Take a picture of me, bro.”

“And make your own incriminating evidence?” You inquired. “Yeah, good fucking idea JJ. Put the gun back.”

“All I’m hearing is that you’d miss me while I’m in jail, darling. How sweet of you.” He mocked, cupping your face with one hand to top off his dramatics.

You pushed him almost immediately, the force enough to knock him back a step or two. “Will you both shut up? I think I heard something on the window.” John B scolded, looking out the blinds to see Kiara and Pope jumping and waving their arms frantically.

“What is it?” You hesitated, fearing the worst.

John B hurried to the other window and peeked through the set of blinds extra carefully, before revealing the answer in a hushed tone. “Cops.”

As the words fell from his lips, JJ threw the window open and looked over his shoulder at you. “Well?” He gestured towards the ledge.

“Well, what? You want me to stand out there?” You questioned him as if he were crazy.

“It’s our only choice, Y/n. Do you see a fucking elevator in here?” JJ retorted, motioning for you to step through the window. “We don’t have all day.”

John B climbed through first, going to the ledge on the left, leaving the ledge on the right open for you and JJ. Unless you remained stood where you were and got caught like an idiot. Your fear of heights was never something you liked to talk about amongst the pogues, though they had an idea. JJ especially. All he would do was make fun of you for it.

“Come on, I’ve got you.” He promised, helping you step out onto the ledge with your shaky legs. All you had to do was not look down.

“Fuck me.” You cursed under your breath. Normally, JJ would’ve spoken up with a remark, but he stayed silent. He inched beside you, taking your hand in his for some support. JJ was relieved to hear your breathing lighten up, as well as your hands that slowed their trembling.

“It’s okay, Y/n. Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

“It’ll be your fault if something does. I should’ve never come up here to begin with.”

He shook his head, adjusting his footing as well. JJ nearly lost his balance, dropping your hand and clinging onto your waist, giving you a light squeeze as a result. The gun hanging outside of his pocket took a tumble and fell down with a few thuds on the surfaces it hit, leaving all three of you to squeeze your eyes shut in disbelief.

“You’re a fucking idiot. I told you not to take it-” You tried to admonish through a whisper.

“Can you shut the hell up for five minutes? I could push you off this ledge right now, y’know.” JJ hissed in return through gritted teeth.

You stayed silent, flush against the brick wall as your heart raced. Until pretty soon John B deemed it safe to go back in, your nerves calming down drastically. Just as he had done to help you out, JJ offered his hand to help you back inside the motel room. He didn’t drop it like you expected him too, either, but you were just happy to be back on solid grounds.

“Let’s get out of here.” John B stressed, interjecting your small moment.

At that, JJ dropped your hand, but still bothered to ask; “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.” You reassured him. He wanted to pick up his pace and travel closer to John B, but the sound of your voice speaking up again stopped him. “I’m sorry for what I said to you. I was stressed out.” JJ kept walking, not once acknowledging your apology on the way back to the HMS Pogue.

“You made it!” Kiara exclaimed, embracing John B as he stepped on. “And I see you two didn’t kill each other.” She commented, looking in your direction.

“Barely.” You told her. “This one threatened to push me off the edge.”

“I was kidding, Y/n. Lighten up.” JJ appealed. “Nothing happened to you did it? As far as I’m concerned I think I held up my end of the deal pretty well.”

“What deal?” Pope queried.

“The deal where as long as she shuts her mouth then I will kinda… make sure nothing happens to her.”

“You mean protect her?” Kiara corrected him, placing a hand to her chest in awe.

“Oh, Y/n. I’ll keep you so safe.” John B taunted, mimicking his friend this time, caressing the blond boy’s cheek as the gentle words fell from his lips. “I won’t let anything happen to you, sweet girl.”

JJ squirmed away from the brunette’s touch, a displeasing look on his face as everyone broke out into laughs. “That’s not what happened. And Y/n is the opposite of sweet.”

“Are you saying I’m sour?” You quirked an eyebrow, ready to fight back with him if he wanted to insult you.

“I’m saying, I should’ve at least gotten a ‘Thank you, JJ. I appreciate you not letting me fall 40 feet to the ground.’ For someone with a terrible fear of heights I thought you’d be a little more grateful.”

You chuckled, clearing your throat before taking his cheek in your hand as he did to you earlier. “JJ. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for protecting me on that ledge. I’m so lucky to have you.” You broke the soft eye contact and ended your scene. “How was that?”

You were almost afraid JJ wouldn’t receive the joke well, judging by the deadpan he was giving. But it was JJ, jokester was his middle name. He chuckled, flashing you a shit eating grin. “It wasn’t half bad. Could use some work, though.”

John B, Pope, and Kiara broke out into laughter and a conversation of their own, not paying attention to the two of you in the slightest. You awkwardly stepped to the side to leave JJ‘s personal space, gazing out onto the marsh to avoid his stare.

You figured he was doing the same, before JJ startled you with his touch on your shoulder, the other hand hovering on top of where yours rested in the back pocket of your jean shorts. He brought his head down accordingly so you could hear him, and most likely no one else. His breath was hot on your ear, sending a wave of shivers through your body. “Oh, and I almost forgot. You’re welcome, sweet girl.”

a/n: let me know what you guys thought about this? it’s kinda growing on me lol

taglist: @ilovejjmaybank @missevi @nxsmss @cameronsrafe @msgorillagripcoochie @bibliophilewednesday @tovvaa @rudybarnes @annab-nana @babeyglo @sunsetholland @moniamaybank @outerbankspreferences @laneybobeczko-g @jjpouggues @j-j-may-bank @heartdose @eifhames @outerbankies @amourtentiaa @k-roleplay20

#jj maybank #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank x reader #jj outer banks #jj obx #obx #outer banks #liv’s 500 celebration

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teebarnes · 3 years

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Barnes' miscommunication | Bucky Barnes x Avenger!reader

Summary: Bucky was an idiot, and he tend to push away things he loved, and that included you. When he hurt you, he didn’t realise his apology would be too late. He didn’t know about your past with hydra, which made the situation, worse.

W/c: 5.2k (holy shit that's alot)

Warning(s): ANGST, weapons, harm (not on you), reader abilities, hydra, swearing!

A/N: A lot to write, I couldn’t find a good way to summarise this fic… you’ll just have to read it. There are -- read more-breaks for the story because it is so long.

Any likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated! Enjoy <33

You were never one to talk; even before you were kidnapped by Hydra, you still didn't really speak. You were quiet and reserved; being an ex-hydra assassin just solidified your personality. There was a lot to know about you, but you never really shared anything about yourself when it came to it. Everyone knew you as Y/n Stark, 'the daughter of Tony and Pepper Stark' and the girl kidnapped when she was five, found by the avengers later in life.

You worked through a lot of things. The therapy Tony and Pepper signed you into helped with the nightmares, but that was about it. But even still, you weren't entirely there; if people didn't know you, your first impression was always coming off as rude and inconsiderate. And you supposed that after all your years working for Hydra, you probably were. You were very much closed off until you met Bucky Barnes.

Bucky Barnes, an ex-hydra assassin, was welcomed into the team just over a year and a half ago. Your dad agreed to the idea because he thought it might be nice for you to have someone else. One who had something in common with you other than, both Natasha and Wanda.

Meeting Bucky was all to be expected; you both got along well, but never once had you shared something about your personal life. You were closed off, and although you and Bucky were civil. He, too, was the same. It was like two peas in a pod.

Over time, it became a love-hate relationship; you'd try your best to be on good terms with Bucky, but over time it felt like he had something against you. You and Bucky were at constant war with each other, and you didn't know what you did for him to hate you so much, or so you thought. You thought that maybe if you tried to tell him that you were an ex-hydra yourself, that may be the pair of you could bond a bit more. But your attempts to do so turned out in failure.

A simple smile would turn into Bucky turning his head away. A good morning, Bucky would walk away. There were definitely good days where he would talk to you, but it wouldn't last long. You guys just didn't really click anymore, and it had been over a year and a half since he had arrived.

Then, not too long ago, Bucky started playing pranks around the compound with Sam. It was their thing. One day when you were about to go on a mission with Nat and Steve, Bucky had accidentally hidden all of your mission weapons, thinking they were Nat's. So you, too, joined in on the fun; two could play at that game, Ex-hydra assassin vs Ex-hydra assassin.

Slowly, you began pranking him back, shaving cream in his boots, salt in his tea or replacing his daggers with dummy knives, just to name a few.

Bucky knew it was you, and he was finding this game pretty fun. There was never a malicious intent behind the minor pranks the both of you played on each other. This quickly became your thing with him and was the reason you two became close again. Spending more time together than usual, you'd spend nights watching films with him, playing board games or even chatting until the earlier hours of the morning. He'd find it weird that you'd be the only one up sometimes, but he never questions it.

It was odd; you were slowly but surely falling in love with Bucky Barnes. You didn't know why or how it happened, but that love for him was there. He made you feel something you had been missing for most of your life.

Love.

Bucky, too developed a love for you. He, too, didn't know where it began or how it happened, but he knew that after all his years of not having anyone, he wanted you. Now I suppose when you put two and two together, it's not hard to know that you and Bucky had a thing for each other; the whole team knew it. Your dad knew it too. However, it never went anywhere; You were just as awkward as each other.

Leading to a few nights ago.

There were three hydra missions scheduled in the week; you and Bucky had been assigned to one of the three. When he came back from his mission that day, he was drained and distraught. You went to welcome him home, but he walked right past you and up to his room.

Steve said something about Bucky seeing where they had tortured him for decades, the memories had got to him, and you understood. Steve thought you might be the best to comfort him, but Bucky still had no idea that you had worked for Hydra before, but you never shy away from the fact that you did. If someone asked, you would tell them. Which still confuses you, the fact that it never came up over the year you've known him. You thought surely someone would say something to him if you hadn't.

The only genuine person who ever understood your pain was Wanda. Both you and she were hydra experiments at the same time. You, her and Pietro. Escaping together because of Ultron, and that's how your dad found you. When Pietro died, it was like you were losing a brother. So you stuck by Wanda; she promised to protect you as you would in return. She was the only one to actually understand what you were going through.

Before the hydra mission, he promised that he'd have dinner with you. Something the pair of you had been doing for quite a while now. So here you were, keeping that promise. You stood outside Bucky's door, softly knocking. You had his dinner that you made in your hand, waiting for him to answer. When Bucky didn't answer, you carefully opened the door just a tiny bit to see him sitting at the end of his bed, gripping the sheets tight in his hand.

His little run-in at the Hydra base triggered something in him. It got under his skin, and he was furious. But you knew that; you sensed it as soon as you walked in the door, and little did he know, you could see what had happened. A soft frown appeared on your face as you walked closer, sitting just a bit away from him at the edge of his bed. "Buck? I made dinner," You called; he didn't answer, just sat there breathing heavily.

"Y/n go away," he warned.

Head tilted, you weren't having any of it. Out of anyone besides Wanda, you knew just how bad Hydra could get, and you didn't want him to be alone. "Bucky, I'm not going anywhere, you promised me dinner, and I made it especially for you." You softly spoke, taking a seat next to him.

He turned to you, looking you up and down. Laying a supporting hand on his back, you leaned down a bit to see his face. "You need someone; Steve told me what happened, and he thought I may be the best to--" you couldn't even finish your sentence before he snapped.

"Best to what, y/n? Understand me? NON of you understand me…" he growled. Sitting back a bit, you were stunned; you didn't know where this was coming from. "Bucky… I do understand. I've been trying to tell you for so long that I was-"

"NO y/n, you don't understand anything, you don't understand me, nobody does!" He yelled at you. You weren't scared; you were sad. You had never done anything for him to be this way to you, yet, here he was.

It hurt you to see him like this. "Bucky, please… I just."

"Get out! GET OUT OF MY ROOM; I hate you." Bucky turned, the words seething through his teeth. Your bottom lip quivered as you stood looking directly at him.

"You don't mean that.."

"I really thought that we were okay… I thought that-"

Bucky stood in front of you, your head looking up at him, "I SAID GET OUT Y/N." he pointed to the door.

A tear shed your face, setting the food down on the bed. You held in your whimpers, "W-well, at least eat. I made it just for you." You almost whispered to him. He watched as you walked away; he didn't realise what he had done. Shutting the door on the way out, you cried back to your quarters. Wanda caught you just in time, that sisterly sense she had when you were down. She sat with you all night while you told her what Bucky had said. You felt so stupid.

In the morning,

Bucky had awoken on his floor; getting up, he noticed the food sitting on his bed. Bucky couldn't remember much last night, only that he came home from the mission, and that was about it. He smiled upon seeing the wrapped food; you had written a note on it. The message you had stuck on it before you walked into his room last night because you thought he may have been in the showers.

"Because I know you like sushi, enjoy! :)"

Slipping on a shirt, Bucky collected the plate of food in his arm with a big smile on his face. Walking out and down the hall to your room, just as he was about to knock on the door. Wanda came storming down from the corridor.

"You son of a bitch!", she yelled slapping Bucky's face. The sushi you made, Bucky slipped from his hands, falling onto the floor in between Wanda and him. His mouth agape, he looked stunned. "If you are looking for Y/n, she's gone on her mission." she huffed out. Wanda gave him a nasty look before walking off. He turned quickly, running off to find Wanda. "Wanda? Wanda-" he stopped when he saw her in the kitchen.

"What do you want, Barnes!"

“I want to understand why you slapped me… What did I do? d-did something happen last night?" he asked. Wanda snapped her head in his direction, "Did you do something? Of course, you did!" She yelled. Bucky came closer to her, "I did? I seriously don't remember." he raised his hands up in defence. "I don't…" he hesitantly repeated.

"Well, this might help you!" Wanda brought her hands up, filling Bucky's mind with the memories of last night. It only took a few seconds for Bucky to fall onto his ass. He was speechless; he put his head into his hands. Wanda kneeled down, "What has she ever done to you?" she questions.

"Nothing Wanda… nothing… I don't even remember anything past coming home." He sighed. "I don't give a shit if you don't remember. Make it up to y/n! She loves you, for God sake, and this is how you treat her!" Wanda ranted mindlessly. "S-she loves me?" Bucky looked up and questioned.

Wanda gave him a shit-eating look, "Of course she loves you; everyone knows this!" She sighed, getting up. His face brightened, "I love her too, Wanda!" He spoke. He hadn't said this to anyone until this very moment, but he did love you. This was the reason; it was his fault for your rocky relationship with him. He was scared to love you, thinking you wouldn't love him in return.

Wanda turned around, shocked, "Then why tell the girl you love that you hated her." Bucky didn't know; he tried so hard to remember, "I got worked up over the mission yesterday, I set myself on auto-pilot. I'll make it up to her, I promise." He got up, trying to think about how to make it up to you.

"Bucky. I'm not in a forgiving mood right now. But just know, she has been through a lot, and you're the only one in this building which still doesn't know that. The best thing you can do is listen to her." She spoke before angrily taking her bowl of grapes with her out into the living room where Vision was.

Before the mission,

"Alright, it is a short but stealthy mission. Y/n, Steve, Nat and Clint, you'll be navigating this one." Fury spoke.

"There is intel that there could be valuable information on Hydra hard drives. We need you to extract them and burn any remaining evidence." He spoke again, everyone agreed, looking through the files. Nat had rested a firm hand on yours, "are you sure you're up for this?" She asked. You simply smiled, confirming her question with a nod.

Everyone in the room with you knew your history with Hydra; that's how you became an esteemed Avenger. Telling everyone your story led to you using your skills to help people around the world. It wasn't uncommon for them to occasionally ask if you were okay or wanted to stay behind if it ever came to a hydra mission.

Now hours later, you were on your way back to the compound. Pretty much feeling like shit. You were numb, and there was no energy left in you. Of course, you didn't let your team see it, but you were exhausted. You just wanted to take a nice shower, eat and sleep for days.

The quinjet landed, and everyone was dis-embarking the jet.

Being the last one out, you slowly made your way into the compound. Not wanting to see anyone, you made yourself a tiny portal to your room that you walked through; you couldn't care. You stood in the middle of your room, not knowing what to do with yourself. Sliding slowly against the end of your bed. Still, with your daggers and weapons attached to your mission suit. You curled up, hiding your face into your knees.

Bucky had run out from his room as soon as he heard the quinjet landing. He came into the bay, looking around for you, but all he could see was Steve, Nat and Clint. Steve smiled upon seeing his best friend, "Hey Jerk, how was your day?" Steve asked, giving him a pat on the shoulder.

"Uh… not great… where's y/n?" Bucky asked, running his hand through his hair. Nat, Clint and Steve all turned their head to look at each other before looking at Bucky. "In her room, catching an early night." Steve smiled, "Steve… I screwed up!" Bucky panicked.

Clint and Nat were putting away their things while Steve stayed with Bucky. "Buck… I don't know what to say." Steve lightly spoke. "Give y/n some time. But not today." Nat spoke before walking out the doors with Clint. Bucky looked back at Steve, "What's with everyone telling me not to bother her today? Wanda, Sam… even Tony has said the same thing."

"This mission was draining for her," Steve advised his friend before giving him another reassuring pat on the back. "If you really want to know, without bother y/n. Just ask Tony. I'm sure he'll tell you." Steve smiled, walking off.

Tony was focused on his tech while Bruce was working at his computer, Bucky had walked in, and without looking up, Tony spoke. "What did you do to my daughter, Barnes?" He questioned. Bucky stood there feeling guilty. "I'm sorry, Tony… I really am. The mission got to me, and I took it out on her." Tony looked up from his laptop, "have you apologised to her?" Bucky shook his head. "Good. Like I said earlier, let her cool down." He spoke before going back to working on his tech.

Bucky stood there trying to say something, "Is there something else, Barnes?"

"That's what I wanted to ask you about." this made Tony sigh. A hand running down his chin, Tony gives Bruce a look. Walking over, he patted the surface of Bucky's back, "Come… sit", he spoke, taking a seat at one of the lab tables. "By what she tells me, you don't know that she was an ex-hydra assassin, correct?" Bucky's face was confused. He was taken aback. "Well, I'm taking that as a yes."

"You know I'm surprised that you've never come across her..." Tony continued. Bucky was wide-eyed; oh, he knew he was such an idiot. "If my time calculation is right, you would've been there the same time as her." looking directly at Bucky, "You're going to have to ask her yourself about her past. Seeing as I know about last night and the fact that you love my daughter." he let out a slight smirk. "I advise that you do one hell of a job to make sure she knows you love her." He spoke. Bucky nodded, and there Tony was, telling you bits of your story.

"I've spent almost two years not knowing she was a part of Hydra? God, I'm so stupid." he sighed, "Tony, I really am sorry." Bucky looked at him. "Don't tell me that; tell her that, bud."

He thought back to all of the times you were with him, all the times you tried to tell him. So when you said you understood him, you really were telling him the truth. Although he couldn't remember the conversation between you two last night, he knew from what Wanda had shown him.

Getting into the shower, you stood underneath the running water for quite a while.

Your thoughts floating in your head, this mission had torn you to pieces, physically and mentally. It had drained you, and all you needed was to regain your health. Cleaning yourself off and washing your hair, you spent a few minutes more under the running water. Thinking about the mission and about Bucky. Bucky was on your mind; you confided in him. He was like your best friend, so you didn't know how to feel when he did this. You tried the entire night to understand his feelings, but you weren't genuinely processing it.

Bucky was walking back to the main quarters when he heard your angered scream, "BUCKY FUCKING BARNES," looking at yourself in the mirrors. Your hair was a mix of pink and green. You furiously went into your showering, grabbing the shampoo and conditioner bottle, checking the contents; it was dye.

Bucky ran up the stairs, coming out into the halls where Sam was standing just a bit away from your room. Then it clicked; Sam turned to Bucky, "I thought you took it out of her shower." Bucky mentally face-palmed himself. "I forgot! I forgot!" Nat and Wanda were coming out of their rooms; they looked at each other with an 'oh fuck look'. Bucky turned to Wanda and Nat, who looked like they were going to kill him. "I'm sorry!" He panicked.

You were a mix of furious and sad; you paced around your room with tears streaming uncontrollably down your face. You dried your hair, slipping into a comfy jumper, some tights, and your combat boots. You pulled the hood over your head, grabbing your daggers. All you saw was red. Today all you needed was a nice shower, to have some food, put your mission gear away and then head to bed. But this was it, that was the cherry on top; you let the emotions run free.

You came out of your room to see Wanda, Nat, Sam, Clint and Vision standing there. "Where's Barnes!" You yelled at them. "H-here." Bucky came out from the staircase; your eyes snapped in his direction. Sam stood in front of your path, "y/n… y/n it was me. I'm-" you were still fuming; you had used your abilities to throw him out of your path. Clint came in sight, and you did the same thing to him.

Storming towards Bucky, your dagger was in your hand. Bucky stood there, not really know what to do. You kicked his chest in with much force that he went flying onto the ground. Groaning, you stalked closers, kneeling onto his chest, and he let you. You pulled the dagger to his throat. When you aggressively took the hoodie off to reveal your face, he could see you were crying. "You think this is fucking funny, Barnes?" You yelled at him, "I have done nothing but be nice to you!" You continued yelling at him.

Nat came in from behind you, but Bucky shook his head, "It's okay, Nat, let her." He groaned as you pushed into his chest. Still, with a dagger to his throat, he looked into your eyes as your cried. "I… I get it… I get that you hate me! I get it!" You cried out in anger. Everyone didn't really know what to do or how to react. They all just stood there watching.

"Y/n… please sweet. You're hurting him." Wanda spoke, your face dropped a bit, turning to Wanda, your eyes darkened, you couldn't get it out of your head. She saw it; she saw this look once before. This just made you a hundred times more dangerous, and you knew she wouldn't get in your way.

Turning back to Barnes, he was looking at you. "A-all I wanted was to come home, have a fucking shower and go to sleep." Your anger is apparent to him. The angrier you got, your hair began to strip of pink and green, turning into a jet black colour.

"I've called Tony," Clint reassured.

Bucky lifted his hand, he tried to caress your face, but you quickly swatted it away, "y/n… I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you…" he furrowed his brows, trying to bring back the y/n he loved. Your whimpers heard from him, "what did I do! What did I do for you not to like me." You yelled into his face. "I don't hate you Y/n… I promise you, I lo-" he stopped when you pushed the dagger further into his neck. You were too angry to let him speak; you couldn't.

Steve and Tony running up the stairs, Bucky briefly looked at Steve.

A black glow emitting from your other hand, and your eyes darkened more. Tony looked at Wanda and nodded. With a flick of her hands, she sent the dagger flying from your hands. Looking at Wanda, your eyes widened. Before you could do anything else, you were pulled off Bucky by the waist. "Hey… hey honey." You looked back to see your dad, a frown set upon your face as you dropped your hands; you gave in once you saw your dad.

Steve was helping Bucky up while everyone just stood there as you cried into your dad's arms, whimpering into his chest. He brought you into a tight hug caressing your back. Bruce came from behind, sedating you with an injection. Your eyed dilated slightly as you looked at your dad with pleas before falling limp into his arms.

Everyone watched, your hair turning back into its original colour. Bucky felt guilty, nor did he know that you had any abilities. Tony looks at Bucky shaking his head in disappointment before picking you up, carrying your sleeping body back to your room. "Friday, get Pepper over here," Tony spoke. "Right away, Tony."

"So everyone saw that?" Sam asked, "Y/n has powers?"

"Yes, she does, and it's none of your business." Wanda shook her head, walking off with Nat. Bucky was catching his breath as Steve held onto him. "I fucked up, Steve… I really did." He felt so bad. Steve looked at him with sympathy. "C'mon, Bud, let's get you back to your room. We can discuss this tomorrow." He spoke. Bucky looked at his best friend, "But I need her to know that I'm sorry… Steve, I need to tell her that I love her." He was almost in tears. "And you will tomorrow. The dose Bruce gave her will last until morning." Steve said.

Bucky sighed, nodding in defeat as he made his way to his bed. "Just trying and get some sleep, Buck." Steve closed the door behind him. Bucky laid on his bed, looking up at the ceiling all night, trying to think of how to tell you he was sorry.

"They were eventually going to find out how bad she could get..." Tony spoke, running his hand down his face, "I told you and Fury not to put her on that mission, Tony." Pepper quietly yelled at him. They both turned your way, watching as you slept softly under your sheets. "She said she was okay; I trust her, Pep. Who am I if I am not to trust our own daughter's words?" Tony sighed. Pepper's arms folded, she took a seat right next to you, caressing the hair out of your face. "Is Bucky okay?" Pepper asked; Tony rolled his eyes. "He's okay; Steve said he keeps going on about apologising."

"Are you going to let him apologise?" Pepper asked Tony.

"Mh… I'm thinking about it."

"Tony…"

"Yes, okay… I'm not one to stop metal arm from apologising." Tony replied.

"Don't call him that," Pepper spoke, giving your forehead a kiss. "Okay... sorry," he whined before doing the same, pulling your duvets up to keep you warm…

Groaning, your eyes flutter open. You didn't move; you just stared at the ceiling. You remembered everything last night, and you felt guilty for what you had done to Bucky. Laying amongst your pillows, you continued to stare at the ceiling.

It was maybe about 45 minutes later when a soft knock on your door lured you from your daze. Bucky knocking on the door didn't bother you. You just continued your stare into the void.

On the outside of the door were Bucky and Tony. Tony stared at Bucky, whispering. "Go in, Manchurian Candidate. We don't have all day." Tony spoke, opening the door, pushing Bucky in before closing the door behind him. You were awake and unbothered by his presence.

He walked towards your bed, taking a seat next to you. "I made you your favourite." He lightly smiled; you softly turned your head to look at him then to the plate of food. Bucky indeed made your favourite food, but you had no words. You didn't say anything but turned back to stare at the ceiling. Bucky placed the plate on your bedside table. Lying right next to you, he sighed.

"Y/n… I'm really sorry about last night and the night before. It wasn't my intention to hurt you. I just wasn't in the right headspace, and I took it out on you" He quietly spoke. "I'm really sorry..."

"I know there have been multiple times you've tried to tell me that you were kidnapped by Hydra… and I'm sorry it took me until now to know." He turned to you as you tensed. He was exploring your features, the ones he had grown to love since the day he first met you.

"And I-" Bucky went to speak, but you cut him off, "Do you hate me?" You quietly asked, still with your eyes to the ceiling. Bucky shook his head, "I could never hate you y/n." "Then why say it?" You asked him again. "Because I was an idiot. I was angry, but I didn't mean any of it. I was so caught up in the mission that I took it out on you." he looked down at his hands.

"It was like I lost myself when I got back to the compound. But that is no excuse for what I did to you, and for that, I will spend however long it takes to make it up to you." You turned to look at him, and he was already looking at you. Sympathy in his eyes, you knew he was genuinely sorry.

"I never meant to hurt you last night, Buck. I'm really sorry, I feel horrible." He smiled lightly at you, "You don't need to be sorry. I understand how you felt, and I'm an idiot. I never wanted to hurt you."

And like any other conversation of yours, the pair of you started fighting again.

"But you did-"

"I know I did-"

"What did I do, Bucky? Where did I go wrong?"

"Nowhere… you didn't do anything."

"But then why-" you were thinking out loud, and you didn't mean to; the words were just slipping out.

"Because I love you, okay? I love you y/n! And I am so angry with myself that waited this long to tell-"

"I love you too..." You cut in. "I know you do," you spoke again.

"You know?" Bucky questioned. You nodded, "I have been able to read your mind since the day you step foot inside this compound, Bucky. I've loved you even before you started liking me." you sent him a small smile.

He went to speak but quickly shut his mouth, taking the advice that Tony gave him about listening to you. "And when you told me you hated me, I couldn't read your mind. I couldn't tell myself that you were lying and that you said it out of the moment." A tear fell down your face. Bucky rested his hand on your cheek, lightly caressing away the tears. "I've spent months trying to tell you so you knew you could talk to me. Because I understood. I wanted you to know that we had something in common. I wanted you to know that I loved you. But you never gave me that chance."

"All the times you would turn away from me, or ignore me or even go as far as to telling the team that you didn't want to go on missions with me."

"I tried because I thought you hated me…. Until that day, when you came home, and I had made you tacos. That was the first time I heard your mind again; I had heard you say that you loved me."

Bucky smiled; he remembered that day. Thinking back to it now, he knew he never said it, but he felt it because it was true. "So you knew what I've been thinking this whole time?" He quietly asked; you nodded softly.

"So, how about now?" He asked.

You furrowed your brows and then heard it, I love you, Y/n.

A small smile paved your face, "yeah... I heard that." he leaned in, placing a soft kiss on your lips which you returned.

He thought again, I'm so sorry for everything… I can't lose you, not when I've barely had you. I'm trying my best, for you and for me.

Your eyes opened back up, you stared into his eyes. "I forgive you, Bucky. Just please don't hurt me again." You whispered.

Bucky gave you a nod, kissing your forehead. "I will never hurt you again."

With the soft blink of your eyes, you believed him. You opened up your blanket, inviting him in. He took his shoes off and slide in next to you, pulling you into his arms. You smiled as he held you close to him. "Y/n?" Bucky whispered. You looked up to him humming in response.

"If it's not too much to ask, could you show me your past?" He asked; you thought about it for a second before gently nodding. Bringing your hand up, placing your hand softly on his forehead. Cuddled up together, you confided in him once and, going back to show him what you'd been trying to tell him from the very start.

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cjsinkythoughts · 3 years

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His Only Contact

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 1014

Warnings: Falcon and the Winter Soldier Spoilers!!!! A little angst, a little fluff, no cursing (I think)

A/N: This is a quick thing I wrote because I can’t sleep after watching that episode. I have so many ideas. I might continue this, too (just like everything else I write because I’m incapable of writing one-shots), but I’ll probably just write a few drabbles here and there when new episodes come out. I also added HBC’s Lucky in Love prompt for Day 19 in here, which is Odds.

FATWS SERIES MASTERLIST

Find my Day 14 Prompt here - Spring Forwards - and my Day 18 Prompt here - Ocean Eyes, Cherry Lips, Ivory Keys

AGAIN: SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

Shooting up. Greedily sucking in air. Sweat sliding down skin. Adrenaline rushing through veins. Wide eyes darting around the room.

Another night. Another nightmare. He was starting to think he’d never get another restful sleep.

The floor was hard beneath him, far better than the soft, malleable mattress he had in his practically empty room. The TV was on, as it always was, the soft glow making his eyes squint. The apartment was silent except for his pants, empty except for his shuddering form. He’s shirt was off - he didn’t like it sticking to him, it was too constricting, and he always ran hot anyways - his sheets tangled with his legs.

Reaching over to the small couch besides him, his hand slid over the cushions until he found what he was looking for.

He flipped open the small phone, going straight to the Contact page. He only had one in this phone. This phone no one knew about except them two. Not Sam, not his therapist. No one.

He quickly dialed the number, leaning back against the couch and letting out a puff of air. Finally, after a few rings, an exhausted voice came through, hoarse with sleep.

“Hello?”

“Hey…it’s me.”

“Oh. Hey. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, no. Everything’s…I’m…we just haven’t talked in a while.”

“I know. I’ve been meaning to call, but-”

“No, no. I get it. What you’re doing is important.”

“You’re important, too, Buck.”

Bucky took a breath, a small nod moving his head. “Uh, so, how’s the search? Found anything yet?”

“No. I’m in Edinburgh right now. They met here right before the whole thing in Wakanda…I thought she might come back.”

“No such luck?”

“No…you know what she did. What she’s capable of. The odds of finding her…” He heard her sigh and a frown etched onto his features. She sounded tired, but she spoke before he could bring it up. “What about you? How’re you doing?”

“I dunno, honestly.”

“Yeah. Okay, that’s fair. How’s therapy going with what’s-her-face?”

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “It’s basically the same every session. ‘Are you having nightmares?’ ‘Are you making amends?’ ‘Are you following the three rules?’ ‘This is part of your pardon.’ Yadda yadda yadda.”

“Is it helping at all, at least?”

“I guess. The amends thing gives me something to do if nothing else.”

“Are you following the rules, though?”

“No one will know if I don’t.” The giggle she gives makes him brighten up. “I got lunch with Yori again on Wednesday.”

“Oh? How was that?”

“Fine. Good, even. I guess. I dunno. He set me up on a date with the girl who works behind the counter at Izzy.”

“OOooo! Fun! Is she pretty?”

“As a picture.”

“What did you do?”

“Played Battleship and drank. A lot in my case. Not that it did much...”

“James-”

“No, no! Not like that! She made it into a drinking game! I was losing.”

“You?”

“I’m a super soldier assassin. I don’t have x-ray vision.”

“Okay, okay. What went down after Battleship?”

“I, uh…I ran out on her.”

“Oh no. Why? What happened?”

“She, uh…she started talking about how nice it is for me to spend time with Yori and his son…I went to tell him, you know. I looked him in the eye and opened my mouth…but I saw a picture. Of his son.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Buck. You know that. It wasn’t you.”

He didn’t feel like arguing with her, so he just agreed. “Yeah. I guess.”

He could feel her suspicion through the phone, but luckily she decided not to pursue the topic. She always seemed to know what to say and when. “Did you have a good time at least? While you were there I mean?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess. I was - I was really awkward, I think. I dunno. It’s been a while.”

“But it’s better than online dating. I told you that was a bad idea.”

“You were also the one who told me to jump in head first.”

“Not on the internet. You psycho. There’s really whack jobs out there.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“Hey!” He chuckled at her faux-offended tone, picturing her hand over her heart mockingly. “That hurt!”

“Kidding. You know I love you.”

“As long as you know I love you back…have you talked to Sam lately?”

“Uh…no. Not…not recently. How is he?”

“He’s fine. We just talked earlier. He’s in Louisiana right now with his sister. He’s got some family dilemma he’s trying to fix. He, uh, he gave the shield up earlier this week. Apparently the new Smithsonian exhibit is pretty good. Maybe we’ll check it out sometime…what do think?”

“Yeah. Maybe. Sometime. Are-are you coming back soon?”

“I was planning to. I really don’t think I’ve got any chance of finding Wanda at the moment. Or Vision for that matter. I still can’t believe SWORD didn’t contact us. I’m so pissed.”

“I know. Maybe it’s good you didn’t get informed, though. We all know how you get when it comes to the team.”

“The Avengers are my family, Bucky. I’m loyal to a fault, you know that.”

“Yeah. I do. I think Steve rubbed off on you after all those years.”

“You think?”

“Definitely.”

They fell into a comfortable, contemplative silence, Bucky’s eyes watching the screen of the TV still glowing from across the room. “What if I dropped by tomorrow? Is that too soon?”

“Tomorrow as in today? It’s one o’clock here.”

“It’s five here. So tomorrow as in tomorrow. I’m tired.”

“Either one would be fine, but yeah. Get some rest. Call me when you have your flight information.”

“Okay. You get some rest, too. Or, at least, try to. You sound tired.”

“You know I don’t sleep well without you.”

“I’ll be there tomorrow. Promise. Then we can stay in all day and you can catch up on sleep.”

“How long will you be here?”

“As long as you need me, James. Good night.”

“Y/N?”

“Yes?”

Bucky hesitated, before shaking his head. “G’night, doll. Sleep well.”

“Good night, Buckaroo.”

3K notes · View notes

thefoxandthepenguine · 2 years

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What if…? (Part 2)

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: AU. You missed your chance with Wanda and now she is marrying someone else. What if…you are given a second chance to make things right?

Genre/Warnings: Fluff/Angst, a few curse words, mention of alcohol. Let me know if I miss anything.

Word count: 5k (This is way longer than I’ve originally planned LOL)

a/n: Thanks for all of your liking for this series. Reading your comments and reblogs always makes me smile.❤️ It has taken me such a long time to come up with the plot and put the ideas down into words. So I really hope you all will enjoy this story. And a big thank you to my friend who spends so much time discussing the plot with me and being my beta reader. Bold and italic fonts indicate flashback. As usual, good reading! :)

Btw, one small final note at the end.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

(Gif found online. I don't own it.)

Part 2 - The Lady In Red

“Okay…alright. Seventh of May, 2018? Really?” Huffing irritably, you can feel the rage pulses through your veins.

You take a step towards Natasha and poke her in the shoulder. “I don’t know how you managed to pull this up,” your other hand gestures to the room and your face agitatedly, “but this is not funny Natasha Romanoff! You know what this means to me and I’m so sick now. This shitty stunt is going to end RIGHT NOW! Now where’s my phone?”

Natasha’s brows draw together in a concerned frown, her mouth falls open and shuts for a few times before replying uncertainly, “I-I have no idea what you’re talking about Y/N.”

“Really?” You roll your eyes in sheer exasperation.

She cannot be serious.

“Y/N－” Wanda steps between Natasha and you. Gently, she strokes your arm, trying to calm you down.

“And you Wanda!” A sudden pang of frustration washes over you when you look in Wanda’s eyes, “I can’t believe you’re doing this with Nat! You can’t just－you can’t do this to me…”

Why is Wanda doing this to you?

Why pick this date out of all the other possible dates if they simply want to mess around?

Does Wanda know how you think of her and decide to mock you about it?

Is that why they are doing this to you?

You catch Wanda and Natasha exchanging a confused look before stepping towards you tentatively, looking at you in concern.

You thought maybe they are going to apologize and end whatever this shit is. But much to your surprise, they hug you tightly in their arms.

“I know it’s been stressful lately and a therapy session might sound intimidating, but we can definitely go together with you. We’re your best friends no matter what happens.” Natasha leans her forehead against your temple, and you cannot help but frown at her words.

“Wh－what are you talking about?”

“We can skip the first class if you want. We can…uh I don’t know? Go grab a nice breakfast before we start looking for therapists nearby?” Wanda strokes your head tenderly while speaking softly at your ears.

…What the hell is going on here?

“Oh my God…you two are just unbearable!” You shake your head in disbelief, “keep this little drama as long as you want. I’m done!” You shove them away and storm off to the door.

Your jaw drops on the ground, again, when you open the door and take in the surroundings.

You know it all too well.

It is the corridor of your dormitory and you see so many people you know from college walking past and greeting you.

“Hey Y/N!”

“Good morning!”

Frozen at the doorway, you blink your eyes confusedly for a few times before shutting the door and stumbling back to your room. “For God’s sake…what is that?”

There is no way Natasha and Wanda would go through so much just to mess with you.

Is that really what you think is happening?

“Y/N…” You ignore the pleading voice from Wanda and go for the phone laying on your bed.

You are shocked as hell when you are able to unlock it with your usual password and your fingers tremble slightly while typing “date of today” in the search bar. You take a deep breath before pressing Enter.

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” You speak in a low mumble to yourself.

7th, May, 2018

“So it’s really 2018 now?” You look up at Wanda and Natasha in wide-eyed astonishment.

Wanda and Natasha exchange a bewildered look before nodding at you in sync.

“Holy shit…”

Did you just travel back in time?

Walking down the road to the campus with Wanda and Natasha, you finally convince them you do not need to be sent to the hospital and you were just drunk.

The two of them are slightly ahead of you when Wanda turns around and looks at you in concern, “are you feeling better now Y/N?”

“Yea…yea. I-uh-I-I’m much better.” You manage to stammer a reply, still a bit caught up in the fact that you have just travelled back in time.

Is the time-travelling thing even possible? Like for real?

That is when Wanda beams a reassuring smile at you. Her hair cascades naturally over her shoulders, a few strands of her locks flying in the brisk breeze. Wanda lifts her head, flicking her hair off her face.

“Y/N?”

You gulp as Wanda’s voice breaks you out of your trance.

What if this is your shot?

Your heart misses a beat at that thought.

What if this is the chance for you to make things right?

You remember everything happened at night. At Tony’s party.

You were holding a solo cup in each of your hands, trying to push your way through the crowd when you heard people around you burst into wild applause.

“I’m in love with you Wanda. Will you be my girlfriend?” Vision asked in the center of the dance floor, everyone in the party was wildly enthusiastic.

Except you.

You came to an abrupt halt, clenching the cups tightly in your hands.

You hid yourself in the crowd and gazed at Wanda’s face. You waited for several seconds, the world came to a screeching halt when you watched her mouth move in a certain way, saying something you could not hear clearly from a distance.

Everyone broke into rapturous applause the next moment.

You mumbled a “sorry” when the booze spilled out from the cup as you held it all too hard, smashing the cup and splashing the liquid all over the ground.

What if you say those words before Vision does?

“Wanda?”

“Yeah?” Wanda tilts her head and scrunches her nose, looking at you expectantly.

You did not do anything in the past and you let Wanda slip away from you. Maybe this is really your shot. Your shot to change everything. To make things right this time.

You take a deep breath.

“Will you go to the party with me tonight?” You can literally feel the heartbeat in your throat now.

“I thought we’re going together.” Wanda turns around to look back and forth between Natasha and you, her eyes blinking in confusion.

“Yeah…but no. That’s not what I meant,” your gaze darts to Natasha who is now biting back her smile, “I mean will you go with me?”

“Oh…” Wanda watches you in silence, her mouth gaping open.

“What do you say?” You take a step forward to Wanda, speaking softly while plucking up as much courage as you have to look squarely into her eyes.

But what if she says no?

Is there a way to travel back in time again?

“Well…I mean I’m only saying yes cause we’re planning to go together anyway.” Wanda bites on her lower lips before walking away.

You cannot stop yourself from thinking how cute Wanda looks when her cheeks flush red.

Because of you.

“Good…great!” You stare at Wanda’s back, smiling like an idiot. “It’s a date then!” You shout in the middle of the road, drawing attention from everyone passing by.

“Sh-shut up! Everyone’s looking!” Wanda scurries back to you and sputters.

“It’s a date right?” You beam a wide smile at Wanda, your heart throbbing with happiness at the idea－

It’s your date. With Wanda.

“I-I mean…let’s go! We’re already late!” Wanda dodges your question and storms off again.

But you guess you do not have to ask for the answer again judging by the look on Wanda’s face.

“Not bad huh?” Natasha nudges your elbow on your way catching up with Wanda.

“It’s perfect this time.”

“This time?”

“This time.”

You do not have any more alone time with Wanda until the classes end in the afternoon. But you did not go back to the dormitory together with her. Instead, you promised Wanda you will go pick her up and leave immediately after class.

You have something important to do.

And now here you are, sigh looking at your bank balance before taking almost everything you have in your account.

Looks like you are going to take more shifts now.

But you know it is certainly worth going for.

You drive to the department store and go straight to the accessory shop after locating it in the directory.

“Good afternoon. May I help you?” The shop assistant greets you the moment you step into the store.

“Uh-actually I’m looking for a necklace which has a dark green or hm…blackish round pendant,” your fingers slide over the glass, looking through the window at the shimmering display of accessories until you see the one you want.

“That’s it! Can I take that one please?” You point to the necklace which looks exactly the same as you remember.

“Sure! Let me wrap it for you.”

You smile at the shop assistant and wait at the counter.

You know Wanda will definitely like it. You remember she took more shifts and saved up for several months just to buy this necklace since she had seen it in the magazine.

It’s perfect. The date. The necklace－

“Y/N!”

You hear someone calling you from behind and that voice just sends a shiver down your spine right away.

You fake a smile forcefully as you look over your shoulder. “Hello Jessie. What a coincidence.”

Normally you will be more than pleased to stay around with beautiful girls. Well who doesn’t like pretty girls after all?

But Jessie…let’s just say her gushing display of affection over you always makes you uncomfortable.

“Buying something for tonight’s party?” Jessie looks over your back, watching the shop assistant packing the necklace for you.

“Oh that’s just for a friend.” You gloss over the question, hoping to end the conversation right there.

“Hm. I wonder who’s that lucky person,” Jessie pouts and walks closer to you, brushing your arm as she speaks, “anyway I’m going to Tony’s party as well. Will you come with me? You can help me with the dress as well!”

You pull yourself away from her touch silently, keeping a distance deliberately between the two of you. “Oh Jessie…I’d love to but I’m going with my friends tonight.” You see the shop assistant handing the gift bag to you just in time from the corner of your eyes. “I’m so sorry about that.”

Thank god she’s your lifesaver.

“Thank you so much!” You smile at the shop assistant before turning around and waving goodbye at Jessie, “Well I gotta go and catch up with them. See you tonight.”

You flee the scene without looking back.

The door swifts open the moment you knock on it.

“Y/N! You’re here! I’m so sorry but I need another 5 minutes. I-I haven’t finished the make up yet.” Wanda said with an apologetic smile.

Your mouth gapes slightly when you see Wanda standing at the doorway, too caught up in the breathtaking beauty right in front of your eyes.

Wanda is wearing a burgundy dress. A short, simple dress that hits right at mid-thigh, flattering her slender figure almost too perfectly.

This dress is not the one Wanda wore for tonight’s party as you remember.

“Y/N?” Wanda looks at you with her brows snapped together.

Wanda must have said something while you are staring. “Are you still feeling alright? We can stay here if you’re－”

“No! It’s just-I mean you look adorable in that dress.” You grin sheepishly, scratching the back of your neck as you manage to stutter a reply.

Wanda smiles shyly, a pink flush spread over her cheeks. “You’re not so bad yourself. Come on in.”

You step inside Wanda’s room and sit on the windowsill as you always do.

“Just give me five more minutes.” Wanda says and you nod without saying anything, swinging your legs carefreely.

The late afternoon sunlight sheds into the room, casting a soft glow on Wanda’s face. You sit basking in the warm sunlight, gazing intently as Wanda puts on her makeup at the desk.

This feels like it is just another random Monday.

It is so calm that somehow you forgot you just travelled back in time for a split second.

“Wanda?” You whisper softly, not wanting to ripple the serenity in the room.

“Hm?” Wanda responds idly without breaking her gaze from the mirror.

“Come here. Lemme help you.”

This is when Wanda finally looks up to meet your eyes, raising her brows with surprise. “Are you sure?”

You nod and beckon her over.

Tentatively, Wanda steps between your thighs, tilting her head back slightly to look up at you. Your fingers brushing over her cheeks tenderly as you tuck a strand of Wanda’s locks behind her ears.

Wanda’s cheeks are warm. You wonder if it is because of the sunlight or the close proximity between the two of you.

Wanda is standing close to you. So close that you can almost see every detail on her face.

You can tell Wanda’s long, dark eyelashes flutter lightly when your fingers brush over her face.

You can feel Wanda’s ragged breath tickling your neck.

And your heart gives a flutter when you look into her eyes. Her emerald eyes seem to bore into you and you can almost see yourself from the reflection of her eyes.

Wanda looks mesmerizing. Perfect.

This is perfect.

You take the lipstick from Wanda’s hand and she closes her eyes as you lean in.

“Open your eyes.”

Wanda’s eyelids flicker before opening her eyes as you told.

And you see yourself again. From her eyes.

You lift Wanda’s chin with one hand and gently rest your other hand on her chin, applying the lipstick from the center to the corner of her lips. You are studying her face when Wanda pulls away in an instant after you have just finished applying the lipstick.

“Wait.” Your voice is somehow dropping low. You tighten your grip on Wanda’s chin slightly before swiping your ring finger over the tip of the lipstick and dab it delicately on her lips to make it look more even. “There you go.”

Wanda smacks her lips together instinctively when you let go of her chin.

“You look breathtaking.” You smile and nod contentedly at Wanda and she smiles back to you.

Neither of you pull away this time.

You nibble on your lower lip as you can feel there is something in the air.

“I’ve never seen you in this dress.” You can literally feel your mouth water when you look down and catch a glimpse of her exposed chest.

“Natasha and I went shopping after you left. She said you’d like this,” Wanda murmurs softly under her breath, her voice barely audible, “do you like it?”

Oh boy Natasha really knows you.

You can only nod as your breath is coming in short bursts, your chest heaving.

Maybe you do not need to wait until the party after all.

Maybe this is the time.

You swallow hard and lean in closer to Wanda tentatively. You are surprised to find her squeezing her eyes shut, her head still tilting ever so slightly as if she is expecting you to press a kiss on her lips. You hold your breath as your hand reaches out to cup her cheek and close the distance between your lips－

A loud bang coming from the hall makes both of you jump and pull away in sync.

“Sorry!” You hear someone shouting an indistinct apology across the door the next moment.

“Uh we should-um…we-we should get going,” Wanda is barely able to stammer out the words.

“Yeah…yeah we should-right,” you gesture to the bathroom flusteredly, “I just uh-I mean I need to…”

Wanda nods absently and you flee and lock yourself in the bathroom.

“Fuck…” You sigh heavily against the door.

You arrive at the party with Wanda and you exclaim inwardly at the size and the decorations of this whole thing. After all these years, you are still wondering whether it is normal for a college student to have such a big party.

As always, a Stark party is an absolute blast. You have so much fun watching all of your friends who are now supposed to be in their late twenties acting like a reckless teenage boy and girl.

And most importantly of course, Wanda is by your side this whole time.

Wanda looks gorgeous tonight.

You can tell there are a lot of people realizing this the moment Wanda steps into the room together with you, judging by the amount of lingering glances in her direction.

Especially the intense gaze from Vision.

You can feel the possessiveness boil inside you, and you cannot help but to snake an arm around Wanda’s waist, silently pulling her closer until she is in your arms, your bodies touching each other.

Wanda lets out a quick gasp in the middle of her sentences and she turns around to look at you. You meet her gaze without saying anything, secretly tightening your grip on her waist. You raise your brows in a silent question, and Wanda just bites on her lower lips, smiling and shaking her head slightly before looking away.

You cannot hide the grin which is pulling at the corners of your mouth when Wanda turns down invitations to join people at the dance floor.

It is indeed a wonderful night.

Everything is perfect.

The party livens up to another level once people begin to request their songs from the DJ, most of them enjoying themselves on the dance floor already.

You finally pluck up the courage for what is coming up after having a drink or two. Or three anyway.

“Would you excuse me?” You smile apologetically at your friends, your hand finally leaves Wanda’s waist for the first time.

And you already miss the heat from her body.

Wanda shoots you a questioning look and you lean closer and whisper softly in her ears, “I’ll be back before you know it.”

You place a soft kiss on her cheek before pulling away from her and walking to the DJ.

“Do you think Y/N is acting a bit weird the whole day?” Natasha asks as Y/N walks away.

“Yea…” Wanda narrows her eyes and tilts her head as she stares at Y/N’s back, “Nat, do you remember the necklace I showed you a few days ago?”

“Hm…You said you’re going to save up for it,” Natasha nods in reply, both of them still looking in Y/N’s direction, “what about it? ”

Wanda hesitates for a brief moment before muttering embarrassingly, “I mean I know it’s not right to do so, but Y/N’s bag fell on the ground when she’s using the bathroom and I caught a glimpse of what’s inside－”

“Don’t tell me she got the necklace!” Natasha finally snaps her gaze from Y/N and stares at Wanda in wide-eyed amazement.

“Shh!” Wanda rests her hand on Natasha’s elbow with the slightest pressure to ask her to lower her voice, “I mean yea…I saw that in her bag.”

“Have you ever told her you like the necklace?” Natasha asks Wanda curiously.

“No! I’ve only mentioned it to you! Have you?”

“No!” Wanda casts a suspicious glance at Natasha and Natasha holds both of her hands up in the air, “I swear I’ve never told her before! Oh my God Wanda! Do you think Y/N’s gonna…?” Natasha smirks looking at Wanda with her brows raised.

“I dunno Nat…I really don't. But uh-we-um I mean we…almost kissed back in my room.” Wanda chews on her lower lips, feeling her cheeks flush red at the memory of what happened a few hours ago.

“W-what!?” Natasha exclaims loudly, drawing the attention from people around them.

“Nat!” Wanda hushes Natasha with a glare.

“I can’t believe this!” Natasha whispers under her breath.

“Me neither! I-I mean Y/N never said anything before. What if she’s just messing with me? Like asking me out, buying the necklace all of a sudden? That’s just insane.” Wanda frowns, a worried expression on her face.

“Wanda honey, no one's gonna spend that money just to mess with you.” Natasha looks squarely into Wanda’s eyes, giving her a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“What if it’s not for me?”

“What if it’s for you?” Natasha nudges Wanda’s elbow and stops whatever she is going to say as Y/N walks towards them, “think about it Wanda.”

You pass the note to the DJ and he stares at you in wide-eyed surprise once he glances down at the paper in his hand. “Is this supposed to be a joke?”

“No…I’m very serious about it.” You look at him with pleading eyes.

“No sweetie, I'm not playing this song at the party. I don't wanna lose my job.” The DJ shakes his head disapprovingly, shoving the note into his pocket.

“Please! I've lost her once and I know I have to tell her that I love her this time. The old and classic song is kinda our thing. So please just help me with this one.” You slip a tip into his hand and reassure him, “I’ll tell Tony this is my idea and you're just forced to do so. Please.”

He stares at you for several seconds before shoving the money into his pocket and mutters in defeat, “you'd better tell him.”

You beam a warm smile at him before putting the velvet box next to him. “I'll come back for it after the song! Thank you so much!”

You have just made your way back to Wanda when the intro of the song starts to play in the air.

You hear people around you all moaning and groaning in disbelief as they gradually figure out the song.

“Don’t tell me－” Wanda turns around and widens her eyes to stare at you in disbelief.

“Well you know me.” A mischievous grin graces your face.

Wanda groans under her breath, rolling her eyes at you. Though you can still see the hint of a playful smile at the corner of her mouth.

“So…” You take the solo cup from her hand and set it on the counter next to you, “would you like to dance with me?”

“Nobody is dancing to this song!” Wanda looks around the hall and her embarrassment is evident in her flushed cheeks.

“Then we’ll be the first one.” You let out a soft chuckle as you take her hand and pull her into the center of the dance floor, pretty sure everybody is staring at both of you now.

“This is so embarrassing!”

“Just ignore them.” You speak ever so softly in Wanda’s ears as she hides her head in the crook of your neck.

You let the rhythm lead your movements, your bodies sway in unison with the music. People are talking out loud around you, but when you hold Wanda close to you, there is something about her…like a magic that drowns out the crowd.

It just feels like it is Wanda and you.

If this is a dream, it is a dream that you never want to end.

“Wanda…”

“Hm?” Wanda hums idly.

“Is this real?” You ask hesitantly, “are you real?”

Wanda’s chuckle muffled by your own skin, her fingertips grazing the back of your neck gently, “of course I’m. What is this question?”

You do not say anything but your grip on her waist becomes a little more firm, silently pulling her closer to your chest. To get her as close to you as possible. Both physically and emotionally.

You can feel Wanda’s breath warm on your neck and it makes you shiver, her locks tickling your cheeks and neck, the coldness of her fingers brushing over your skin and the air is fragrant with the faint scent of an earthy perfume.

Every sense of yours is overwhelmed by Wanda. Yet somehow you still want more.

“I thought you didn't like the song.” You smile at how adorable Wanda’s voice sounds as she hums the lyrics along with the melody.

“I didn’t say that.” Even though Wanda is still hiding her head in the crook of your neck, you can somehow imagine her grinning playfully while retorting you, “but do remind me again, how old is this song?”

“Don’t judge ok? It’s my personal favourite－”

“Again? I thought your personal favourite was our song.” Wanda tries to pull a face, which she fails terribly, as she jests playfully.

“Well that…is my all time favourite. But this is my favourite tonight.” You pause and pull away slightly, taking in every detail of Wanda’s appearance before speaking softly again, “it just came to my mind when I saw you in this dress earlier today. You…you look so beautiful in red.”

Wanda scrutinizes your face, neither of you breaking your gaze until you catch Wanda drawing her lower lip between her teeth, her mouth curving into a smile and mumbles, “thank you.”

The shy smile on Wanda’s face makes your heart skip a beat.

You cannot help yourself but blurt out, “I wish our song never ends.”

“Me neither.” Leaning her forehead against yours, Wanda whispers ever so softly as she drapes her arms over your shoulder, “but since when this has become our song? I thought it’s never let her slip away.”

“It’s our song now. We can make a playlist and listen to them as we grow old together.” Your cannot help but smile at the thought of Wanda and you sitting on the front porch, basking in the warm sunlight while listening to the old and classic songs.

“Yea we can have a big house or maybe keep a dog and a cat.” Wanda giggles in delight as she continues to speak, “hm…let’s call the dog Kitty and name the cat Goose.”

“I’ll make you coffee every morning and we can watch them play together.”

“And I’ll warm your bed every night?” Wanda lets out a soft chuckle as she jokes, arching her brows playfully at you.

“Will you?”

Boring into Wanda, you can see the smug smirk disappears gradually on her face. Your chest heaving when you hear Wanda ask under her breath－

“Do you mean what I’m thinking right now?”

You are going to reply when the outro fades out. Wanda’s fingers brush over your skin as she pulls away, “I-I guess there is always an end afteral－”

Without saying a word, you tighten your grip on Wanda’s waist. “It doesn’t have to be.”

There is something in the air. Again.

This is really the time.

You lost your shot in the past and Wanda was marrying someone else. You are not going to screw this one…this time.

“Wait a second. I have something for you. Just don’t-don’t move! I’ll be right back!”

You sprint to the DJ and grab the box, shouting a “thank you” to him before scurrying back to Wanda in the center of the dance pool.

“Wanda, I-I've been thinking about this for so long…much longer than you can ever imagine. I thought I had lost my chance with you once but I dunno why and how…somehow I’m granted another chance.”

Wanda's eyes seem to widen in anticipation and uncertainty at your next action.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice more and more people surrounding both of you, gossiping in wild enthusiasm.

“I-I hope you'd like this.” Slowly and carefully, you open the velvet box in your hand. Your eyes bore into Wanda, not wanting to miss any reaction on her face.

You hear Wanda’s breath hitch.

But the look on her face…is not exactly what you imagined when you bought her the necklace.

Wanda seems to be…embarrassed, if not disappointed when she looks into your eyes. She has her brows snapped together and her mouth tightened into a thin line. “Are you serious?”

You are baffled as to why Wanda acts like this, struggling with what you should say.

“Of-of course I’m!” You finally manage to stutter a reply.

Didn’t Wanda like this necklace? Did you remember it wrongly and get a wrong one for her?

But you can tell something is off. There is something more than getting the wrong necklace for Wanda. You can hear people bursting into laughter around you, yet not in the usual way when someone is confessing.

People are laughing like they are－mocking and taunting you.

There is even a camera flash going off from behind the crowd.

Out of pure instinct, you look down at the box and your face burns with embarrassment the moment you take a glimpse of what is inside.

It is a fucking vibrator.

“Wh-what? No! It’s not that－” You close the box in an instant, desperately trying to explain yourself, “no! Wanda I swear that’s not what I’ve－”

“Whoa Y/N! A vibrator!” Someone shouts from the crowd and everyone bursts into laughter again. “Are you going to propose with a vibrator?”

Your mind is still reeling from the shock. From everything.

What the fuck is this?

Where is your necklace?

Why is there a vibrator in the box?

What happened?

Wanda does not say anything though. Instead, she just glares at something behind you silently. You frown, turning around to see Jessie approaching you.

You are going to ignore her and turn back to Wanda when something catches your eyes－

The necklace on Jessie’s neck.

It is exactly the one you bought a few hours ago. It is exactly the one which should be laying in the box instead of that stupid vibrator.

You cannot tell me it is just a fucking coincidence.

“Jessie－”

You are still trying to figure this shit out when Jeissie stops right in front of you, speaking with a voice that is barely able for the three of you to listen, “thank you for the necklace.”

And the next moment, she cups your face and leans forward to press a kiss on your lips.

For a split second, you stand in shocked silence.

What the fuck?

You push Jessie away the moment you come to yourself again.

Hate wells up inside you as everything comes to your mind. It must be her.

“Go fuck yourself with this,” you say through gritted teeth as you wipe your lips with the back of your hand and shove the vibrator back into her hand. “And give me back the necklace.”

“I think it’ll look better on me. Don’t you think honey?” Instead of walking back, Jessie takes a step closer to you.

It takes you everything to suppress the urge to strangle her to death.

“You think that’s funny? Give it back to me now or I’ll call the cops.” Your irritation flares uncontrollably every second you talk to her.

Jessie pouts as she takes the necklace off, but it is when you catch a wicked glint in her eyes.

You turn around.

Only to find Wanda already gone.

PS: I’m sorry if you’re called Jessie. It’s just a random name coming up in my mind.

Tag:

@xxromanoffxx @username23345 @imdumbhi @reereeineedtopee @justyourwritter69 @cristin-rjd @when-wolves-howl @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @hoeforwandanat

#wanda #wanda mcu #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #wanda imagine #wanda maximoff imagine #scarlet witch imagine #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #natasha romanoff

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gffa · 2 years

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Honestly, the older I get, the more I understand the Jedi philosophy.

It’s like,as a teen- how can you just sit there and do nothing?! People are in trouble! And what the heck do you mean attachment, friends are important!!!

As a twentyish year old- okay, this is a sort of bad situation, but you still have to do something- and who the heck thinks having a former slave relive slavery for character building is a good thing?! (It was either a novel or a comic, I just noped right out because that was handled really badly by the author)

As a semi-mature adult- okay, emotions can really cloud your judgment, even the subjectively good ones. The philosophy the Jedi are based on is a good one, just a little bit different from what I’m used to, and the more I learn the better I understand the story! And a great part of me learning the story is thanks to your blog! So thank you for your efforts, they aren’t going to waste!

Of course, I still relapse on occasion, mostly when something hits me as wrong- the kadavo arc brought back my frustrations because the whole ‘exposure therapy’ or ‘flooding’ rarely works when it’s a controlled environment and the patient can tap out safely, because it’s more likely to re-traumatize a person and set back their recovery greatly. So having the council think it’s a great idea just kinda makes me 😡.

Again: Thank you so much for the information you provide!

It's interesting that I've talked to more than a few people who started out with the whole "the Jedi are a cult" and "the Jedi kind of brought this on themselves" and "they abused Anakin" train of thought and I'm one of them, too. I watched the movies when I was young, I didn't really have a lot of thoughts about them, Jedi good, Sith bad, etc. Then I got into fandom and saw people saying how the Jedi were really terrible and that was actually what you were supposed to understand when you really thought about it and I completely believed it. And then I got into rewatching the movies and watching TCW and reading Lucas interviews and waaaaait the Jedi don't actually seem that bad... well, they still needed to change, but... well, what were they supposed to do... wait, they're based on Buddhism, oh, that does change how I see them... wait, they're actually being really nice to Anakin in this scene and never took him to task unless he'd just fucked up real bad??... and, well, here I am. It's also true that, the older I get, the more I vibe with the Jedi's approach to emotions--you're not supposed to suppress them, but you need to be mindful of them, you need to let that shit go, because it will poison you otherwise. I was so, so angry when I was young. I was angry every day and the longer it went on, the more I would just seethe at people, the more I would wallow in the bad things happening to me, the more I would just be relentlessly negative. All of it was justified in any given example, but I was so fucking miserable. I was losing friends because they couldn't deal with it. I hated myself and everything. I realized I had to let go of my anger, no matter how justified it was. I still have things to be furious about today, in my personal life and in my online life and in the world around me, and there are days I handle it better than others. But every day I have to keep examining my feelings, acknowledging them, and not letting them consume me. Because that way only lies misery for me. So, the Jedi don't have to be perfect, literally nobody should be held to the standards of being perfect, nobody is 100% pure sunshine, because that's purity culture garbage. But they were genuinely trying, they were in shitty circumstances and not given correct info all the time, like, are we talking about Anakin going undercover with the Zygerrians? Because I think they trusted Anakin to tell them if he wasn't ready to do this, it wasn't meant to be exposure therapy, but that they believed he could handle it, that he might struggle with his anger about it, but if it was too traumatizing, he would say so. And he wasn't alone, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka were there to help him and keep an eye on him. It's not a perfect solution, nothing in the galaxy at that point in time was perfect, because there weren't really any good solutions. And my response isn't to try to browbeat you into agreeing or say that you're wrong, more to explain my view of things (since we're dealing with my inbox and all 😂) and why I sympathize with the position everyone was put in and why I don't think the Jedi were the worst ever or whatever. Sometimes we just disagree on things, interpret things differently, and as long as we're friendly to each other as real people (which you have been very sweet about in this message, thank you! I hope I can return it and my apologies if not), we'll be fine. And thank you for the reminder that, even if we disagree on some stuff, there are people who are fine just not seeing eye to eye and still understanding that the other person is kind and thoughtful and has their reasons, I really needed that today.

#jedi order #meta

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ellebi-studies · 2 years

Text

Hello everyone,

Here I am after another exam session. As usual, I would like to share with you my study method to help someone who is struggling with the same exams. Also, I would appreciate it if you gave me your feedback and advice to improve my approach.

So, let's start.

Microbiology is a unique subject, and many students have difficulties with it. It might seem all about mnemonics, but it is fundamental to understand the mechanisms at the base of infection, clinical manifestations, diagnosis and therapies of viruses, bacteria and parasitics.

First of all, I think attending lessons is vital. Books are full of notions that might be confusing and having an idea of what to focus on can help, at least at the beginning. I went to classes, took notes, and tried to understand the basics of microbiology.

After classes, I made mind maps trying to organize notions: a branch for microorganism's structure, one for the cycle of replication, one for symptoms and pathogenesis, one for diagnosis and one for prophylaxis and therapies. I used X Mind for my digital maps, and I find this app extremely efficient (and also, it is free).

Behind having assimilated these basic notions, I read the book and inserted more details on my map. Integrating with the book was fundamental to understanding the mechanisms of pathogenesis and infection. Also, adding information can make it easier to remember the essential ones.

When classes were over, I started reading all the material again and used my mnemonics techniques. I think it is useless to memorize notions at the beginning of the study because, sometimes, understanding the concept makes it easier to learn it. For example, knowing the mechanisms of action of an antibiotic will help to remember which bacteria can defeat. Anyways, some notions (such as the name of some antibiotics or antiviral) need to be learnt by heart. For this purpose, mnemonic techniques (acronyms, short stories, etc.) are a great help.

Next, I started recalling all the topics many times. Trying to explain the matters out loud helped me comprehend whether I had learnt them or not.

Last, I recalled all the subjects with my usual study buddy. This part is essential because she always knows something that I do not and vice versa.

Also, we do all the previous exams together. It may be unfair, but the best way to get a high score on the test is to understand what the professor focuses on.

I have to confess that I studied the day before the exam. By the way, it was a complex situation. Generally speaking, I advise resting before an exam to be relaxed and stress-free during the test.

And, that’s it! Let me know whether you agree with my study method or you would change something. Also, good luck with your studies 🥰

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wheelsup · 3 years

Note

okay but can you imagine spencer washing your hair for you?

like, i never (ever) let anyone (at all) touch my hair, but i feel like he'd be really gentle about it, and there is just something so soft and tender to me about the idea of washing someone's hair for them 🥺

that’s my dream <3 ik you didnt specifically ask for a blurb but i think about this very often. i wrote two versions of this, but this one (with two bickering best friends who are v much in love) won my heart.

wc: 1.6k contains: friends (to crushes, maybe ;) ), injured reader. gn!reader

“Spence, I promise you that I can do it by myself,” you huffed, attempting to yank off your tank top as you walked toward the hotel bathroom, using only one arm while trying to keep the other as still as possible.

“I’d be more inclined to believe you if you didn’t sound like you were going to cry,” he snickered, following hot on your trail as you tried to escape his hovering.

“You’re being dramatic.”

“Oh really? Lift your arm up, then.” He leaned his hip against the marble counter, crossing his arms over his chest as he waited for you to do it. One obnoxiously smug eyebrow arched on his forehead.

Sometime during the case, you’d gotten into a brief tousle with a suspect, who just had to run away when approached. If Morgan had been there, you wouldn’t have even batted a lash, but he wasn’t. So not only had you detained him by yourself, you also wound up with a minor pulled muscle in your shoulder.

You shot him a sarcastic smile, toothless and irritated, and raised your right arm into the air. He let out an airy scoff.

“Other one, smart ass.”

Your arm dropped down to your side, your smile falling with it as you turned sharply towards the shower.

“Look, I’m disgusting right now. So either I suck it up and shower, or you’re going to smell me until the day we solve this case.”

Spencer’s nose crinkled at the gross truth. He wasn’t ungentlemanly enough to tell you, but sharing a bed with a coworker was quite a quick way to discover if they were in need of a shower or not. Your shoulder might be out of service, but both of you could agree that hygiene was a bigger priority.

“You can’t even move. Just… just let me help you.”

You snorted. “Nice try, Reid. I’m not letting you shower with me.”

He rolled his eyes at your use of his last name. You only called him that when you were annoyed with him. He pushed off the counter and turned to the wall, hitting the light switch and earning a shriek from you as the room suddenly went dark.

“I won’t look,” he shrugged, amusing no one but himself.

“You’re a clown, you know that?” you muttered under your breath, drawing back the shower curtain and fumbling around, searching for the knobs in pitch black. “Absolutely fucking theatrical.”

You found them moments later and ran the water, testing the temperature on the back of your hand. By the time it went from cold to warm, you noticed that he still hadn’t moved. From the sliver of light peeking under the door, you could make out just his silhouette in the corner, perched on the vanity.

He was being stubborn about this. That, and the comforting fact that you couldn’t see a single thing –– thankfully, not even his face –– wore you down.

“Close your eyes,” you murmured.

“It’s already pitch black in here ––”

“Close your eyes, Reid.”

Sighing through his nose, he did just that. To make sure you knew it, and also maybe just to be annoying, he made a show of getting off the counter and turning himself around to face the wall. You peeled out of your clothes as quickly as you could. In the process, you caught the long shower curtain under the heel of your foot and, as you stumbled over it, accidentally dragged it along, sending the metal curtain hooks screeching as they slid along the bar.

The second you found your ground, you immediately shot daggers into the back of Spencer’s head, waiting for him to make a joke. As if he could feel them, he bit back his quip. Not without letting a barely contained cackle slip under his breath.

“Okay,” you warned, stepping into the shower. Grabbing the end of the shower curtain, you pulled it tightly over your body to cover yourself as you poked your chin out to talk to him. “I’m in.”

Spencer turned and approached the shower, eyes still shut with his hands out in front of him, feeling the walls for guidance. He was still mocking you for making him close his eyes. You raised your brows; he must’ve thought he was quite funny.

“You look like Velma when she loses her glasses.”

That knocked the funny bone right out of him. His hands dropped to his sides.

“Just get your hair wet and hand me the shampoo.”

You drew the curtain shut again as you dipped your head under the shower stream, coming back moments later with sopping wet hair and a little bottle of complimentary hotel shampoo.

He let you sit on the floor of the bathtub, just slightly removed from the spray of the water. Your back was to him, as he kneeled down on the tile floor, just outside of the bathtub so he didn’t have to get wet. You bent your knees to your chest, resting your chin on them.

Spencer first pushed up the sleeves of his sweater as far as he could before deciding to remove it altogether for the sake of protecting the wool against stray water. The cuffs of his work shirt were unbuttoned and rolled up to his elbows as he got to work.

Taking a healthy quarter-sized amount of shampoo into his palm, he lathered it between his hands before running soapy fingers through your scalp. The pads of his fingertips softly dug in as he carefully massaged the shampoo in.

When he started working his fingers in patterns, putting pressure near your temples and increasing it as he dragged them up the curve of your scalp, you let your eyes close. He was getting rid of a headache you didn’t even realize you had.

The tension you’d been carrying in your shoulders eased a little, and it made him think about how much you probably needed this. One of his hands came down to massage the muscle between your neck and your good shoulder, knowing it was best to just let the hot water do its magic on the bad one.

When the shampoo had been sufficiently lathered, he stood up and detached the shower head, bringing it down to you so you didn’t have to move. You leaned your head back for him as he carefully rinsed the soap out.

You weren’t going to ask, but thank God Spencer told you to hand him the conditioner next. This, he slathered all over the ends of your hair, making sure all of it was sufficiently covered in conditioner before loosely twisting it into a low, makeshift pony for you.

“Mm. I was about to ask how you’re so good at haircare,” you chuckled lowly to yourself, in a half-sleepy voice with your forehead resting on your knees. Dangerously close to falling asleep. “Then I remembered what you used to look like.”

You had a lazy smile on your face just thinking about the days where Spencer’s hair used to be down to his shoulders. He looked so pretty like that (not that he didn’t look pretty now, too), you always wondered why he got rid of it.

“Remember when I got shot in the knee?” he hummed, returning to work your shoulder. He adorned a tiny smile of his own as he started to reminisce. “You came by my house at least once a week. Brought me meals, watched movies with me. Helped distract me from the pain. Even drove me to my physical therapy appointments.”

You mm-hmm’d that you remembered.

“You pretty much did everything shy of helping me bathe. Though, I feel like you would’ve helped with that, too, if I asked.”

You both laughed at that. You hadn’t really noticed the parallels of your situation, being injured and needing his help for once. He was happy to repay the favor.

“I’ll, uh. Let you wash your body yourself,” he said, coming out of his daydream for a moment. He rinsed his hands off and got up, patting down his wet hands on his trousers. With one nod from you to confirm that you’d be able to do it, he quickly exited the bathroom to give you privacy.

You emerged seventeen minutes later, clad in pajamas with towel-dried hair. Spencer was still awake as you crawled onto the bed beside him, more than ready for bed after that. He looked to the side to ask you how the rest of your shower was, and before he could get it out, you shuffled up next to him, winding one arm around his and resting your head on his chest.

“I take it you had a good shower?” he laughed. This was one of his “I told you so” moments, and for once, you didn’t mind it.

“Mhm,” you smiled, chuckling behind it as you shut your eyes. You were falling asleep fast. “Spence, the scalp massage…”

“Was good, right?” he boasted, inflating his own ego a bit.

You nodded against his shoulder, not caring if you helped blow up his ego another two sizes. Burrowing deeper into the covers, nestling tighter against Spencer, you got one more quip in before falling asleep. “S’good that I think I have a crush on you now.”

Joke or not, he pulled the blanket higher until it reached your chin, holding you with both arms and kissing the top of your head before falling asleep himself.

thank you for being on my taglist!

if you’d like to join, the link is at the top of my masterlist

@ellesgreenaway @suburban–gothic @mercy-burning @reidspurple @mediocre-writer @honeyboysteezy @andreasworlsboring101 @calm-and-doctor @drayshadow @reidgifs @you-sunshine @no-alarms-no-surprises-silence @altsvu @reidtheprettyboy @goose-eats-god @sonnydoesrandomshit @rigatonireid @muffin-cup @amoeebaa @reidingmelodies @reidyoulikeabook @anaagraceeberr @spencerreid9 @luvofyourlifeliv @averyhotchner @spencerreidat3am @paw71211 @princesssmooshie @gubeskneescrew @gourdboy @reid-me-a-story @reidabookforonce @willowrose99 @singularityjc @spencerreid9 @miahelen @alltooreid @meganskane @multixfandomwriter @coldlilheart @lunajoyce3 @boldlyvoid @destiny-tsukino @ahhahahhh @spencers-dria @cocomoo1 @spenxerslut @thehuntresswolf @ssa-natalya-reid @the-chaotic-cow @kuolonsyoja @queenofthepouges @gublersss @username2002 @msspencerreid @itwouldburnupintheatmosphere @oeuryale @big-galaxy-chaos @reidsacademia @idonotexiste @rem-ariiana @spencerreidscumwhore @spaceapplehead @newgirlinhell @noellestrash @jswessie187 @reidaissance @violetclifford @fruitoftheweek @mystical-and-modern-marauder @ilovespencerreidmarryme @mlqcool @opheli-yeah @lytrc @youabitchhhh @spencerscumrag @dinonuggets1967 @flowerchildprotectiveservices @annalayton19 @mrsobrien888 @toast-on-t0ast @xoxospencerreid @motionlessgirl12 @bloodyxheaven @my-thoughts-are-weird @rexorangecouny @nani-2305 @measure-in-pain @donald4spiderman @mrs-dr-reid @manuosorioh @sapphic-prentiss @reid-me-a-story @reblogsoffanfics @winifrede @peoniarose @takeyourleap-of-faith @morks-watermelon @silverhetdanes @luwheezey @cc13723things @starrylang @b00b133 @kidd3ath @seastarapiaries @sergiosbae @mrsobrien888 @jesuisbenny @cocomoo1 @youabitchhhh @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @silverhetdanes @onlyhereforthefanfics @shesalatesh @amoeebaa @happymangospot @mugi-chwan @peayoursoftie @reidsadriana @death-becomes-her @nyx2021 @subbyspencereid @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @nomajdetective

new tags not working: @chelsea-the-enchanted @craybae1116 @writingintheroses (rose i know u changed ur url but atm i have NO idea to what lol)

plus: @pissbit @redevil590 @kaz-2y567 @datsimplol @reid-to-me @rem-ariiana @thegirlinthedresscriedalltheway @jaddi-e @just_arandomwriter @spencerswildestdreams1 @sskylarpaige26 @zbgubler @nyasiablack1899 @faithsamantha @chrisdylan17 @just_arandomwriter @peterisbetterthanpietro @thegirlinthedresscriedalltheway @jaddi-e @chloehanson

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic #spencer reid blurb #criminal minds fic #b a queue

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the-cosmic-gentle-giant · 3 years

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Mars through the houses: Where you draw energy from Pt.1

Hello my peoples, so I have been doing a ton of research on this and I still feel like I don't know everything so forgive me if there are inaccuracies, I'm trying my best and would love to hear your thoughts on this. 😊

So as we all know Mars is the planet of action and as such rules over your physical energy. With this info we can see where we draw energy from and how to maintain it to avoid burnout if that makes sense.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Mars in 1st House: In the house of self-identity Mars is definitely the most familiar with it's surroundings. Energy is drawn from the self, therefore putting yourself first, taking time to do what you want to how you want to, winning in competitive areas because you are the best. Self-improvement and being your badass self is a sure way to boost those energy levels. Also fire, like you guys probs feel most alive around a bonfire, fireplace or even tons of candles.🔥

Mars in 2nd House: It's no secret that you guys are driven and even aggressive in the money making department and attaining luxury. Boosting your energy is as simple as going out for some good old fashioned retail therapy. Establishing multiple income channels, wise money management and spending/treating yourself are definite ways to secure those good vibes. But not everyone can always go spending at evey corner, thus surrounding yourself with beautiful things are also ways to get your energies going. Art gallery visits and window shopping could be something you might enjoy.💝

Mars in 3rd House: This house and mental stimulation *snaps fingers* is it for you. You vibe and even thrive in settings where the exchange of ideas, expressing your thoughts, trying new things and learning new skills and topics are a key feature. You are v v likely to enjoy a good debate (keyword being debate, not argument). Additionally short travels and switching up your immediate environment could rejuvenate your burnt-out soul. So please go ahead and plan that weekend getaway, it's good for you!!! 🌃

Mars in 4th House: First of all. WOW. Super intense/strong emotions...this is like the main source of energy for these people, but once the emotions/passions die down you don't feel like going through with what was started. Energy is likely regained through a sense of independence from your family or from being your own household authority. If you feel burnt out maybe talking with your mother or a motherly figure could give you what you need to push on. Energy can also be gained by doing home based activities and projects that range from cooking, gardening or even renovation and diy. 👨‍👨‍👧‍👦🏘

Mars in 5th House: My peoples with this placement know that the vibes are high when you feel good about yourself and being the center of attention. I mean, who doesn't like having their ego stroked every now and again. Energy is additionally sourced from letting out your inner-child, following your creative pursuits and being on your A-game when going out for a few flirts and a freshened body count (i'm talking lovers not corpses). Overall, being the life of the party is where you get your energetic high. 💞💞💞

Mars in 6th House: With this placement you'll be the most at ease with a stable routine and living a healthy lifestyle. Having a good work-life balance and taking time to reflect for healing can help raise your energy. Being of service to others and being appreciated for the work you do also add to this...so listen here hardworking peoples, I appreciate you. Also, if you have a pet then pls cuddle them because not only do they deserve it, but this is another way for you to just build up a bit more of your physical energy so you can continue being your wonderful hardworking self.🤗

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

There will be a part 2 eventually, but for now I hope you enjoyed and pls let me know what you think and if i did good. Love you my peoples.

#my heart my home #astro notes #astrology #astrology observations #astrology on tumblr #mars in the houses #mars in 1st #mars in the 2nd house #mars in the 3rd house #mars in the 4th house #mars in 5th house #mars in the 6th house

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years

Text

Future Emotions AU

Time travel, returned-to-light Vader to 14yo Anakin, BUT he doesn't get any actual memories or abilities, just Emotional Reactions from outside that don't make sense to him. Walks into the crèche and starts crying. Why is he crying? He doesn’t know!

Sees Palpatine and it's just Complicated Revulsion Loyalty Hate time.

Sees Obi-Wan and it's... also complicated.

Sees Padme on the news, literal wall of Grief and Love.

"Anakin? Anakin! Why are you crying?" "I don't kno-o-o-ow!"

Literally everything in the temple makes him feel sad and guilty for some reason... except Yoda. Anakin spends a LOT of time with Yoda because the only thing Yoda brings out of this Absurd Brain Thing is exasperated frustration and a bit of gratitude

(Because Yoda stayed alive long enough to give Luke the training to stay alive, and died from Being Old Disease instead of Getting Stabbed Syndrome.)

(Not that Anakin KNOWS that.)

Sees Ahsoka and it's time for Guilt and Adoration and "I'm keeping her."

@atagotiak asked: Would it be “I’m keeping her?” Because on some level it’s also “it’s best if she stays away from me”

Which... well... it's less guilt than almost anyone else in the Temple, and Anakin doesn't know WHY he feels these things...

She escaped at Malachor so the guilt is there but not the horrified grief. He didn't kill her, which is SUCH a low bar. But it does mean that whoever is put in charge of dealing with his sudden emotional instability decides that maybe it would be Good to have Anakin hanging out with This Child as like... slow exposure therapy.

(Actually with Yoda involved and his history of "throw a child at the problem," Anakin is going to be encouraged to spend time with The Eight-Year-Old He Cried On whether he wants to or not.)

The only things that don't make Anakin feel Bad Things right now are droid repair and Racing.

He’s insecure so he always kinda expects people to dislike him. But now he expects people to hate him and is also absolutely certain he deserves it. So that’s fun.

Poor Obi-Wan, too. He has NO idea how to help.

(I'm trying to figure out the list of people Anakin didn't screw over or get killed. Do we know how Quinlan died?)

(And I GUESS Jedi who died in the war before Anakin Lost His Goddamn Shit.)

Granted he might not know much about a lot of them and if he doesn’t recognize them his subconscious is probably gonna be like “they died, my fault”

But like. Wow. How the heck do you process emotions if you: 1) don’t know why you’re feeling them 2) have no way to try to figure out why you’re feeling them

Anakin sees Bail on the news "Who's that?" "A friend of mine, why do you--" "I resent him." "For... being my friend?" "I don't know."

Also weirdly grateful, but like. Hey! Also on the list of things Anakin feels bad about for no reason: Bail’s entire planet.

Anakin: I FEEL GUILTY ABOUT ALDERAAN. Obi-Wan: Okay, do you know why? Anakin: I'VE NEVER EVEN BEEN THERE. I’VE NEVER EVEN HEARD ABOUT IT MORE THAN IN PASSING UNTIL YESTERDAY.

There's a lot of "I don't even know who you are but I already hate you" about, like... Tarkin.

Anakin's looking at star maps one day and starts having complicated feelings about an empty patch of space. There's nothing there! There's not a single pla--why is gravity wrong.

Why is gravity wrong in this patch of empty space

Oh shit there's supposed to be a planet here

What the fuck.

"Master Yoda I was looking at stars to calm down but I started feeling gross and angry about an empty patch of space and then I did some math and there should be a planet there because of the gravity but there ISN'T and I keep feeling gross and it's the same kind of gross as when I think about Tatooine so maybe there's slaves on that planet that shouldn't be there."

Anakin and Obi-Wan and Yoda go to Kamino. They meet the clones. Anakin starts crying again. Obi-Wan has to excuse them from the Awkward Conversation With Jango in order to calm Anakin down. Anakin looks at Boba and gets angry despite the fact that this is a five-year-old child that's done nothing wrong.

I just want to take "Anakin has a lot of emotions and no idea how to deal with them" to a whole new level.

#Anakin Skywalker #Obi Wan Kenobi #Master Yoda #Ahsoka Tano #Bail Organa #Kamino #various others #star wars #time travel #Darth Vader #Phoenix Posts

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wof-reworked · 2 years

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I don’t want to reblog the post in question because like. I generally like the people involved in it but there’s a post about Qibli going around rn that is making me legitimately kind of mad so let’s talk about Qibli and where Tui fucked up with him, but also where she didn’t

(this is going to get a little bit aggressive, I might end up deleting this because it is an impassioned rant of sorts, but it’s on my mind as more people talk about Qibli)

(please, keep in mind: I don’t think all of his behavior is healthy. This dragon needs some goddamn therapy. But I think the distinction between unhealthy vs destructive is important. I talk about this later)

SO.

The idea that Qibli is manipulative for having very clear self loathing and trauma is, quite frankly, disgusting?? Like did you forget that a really, really common trauma response is to latch onto people who are kind to you in your life??? The idea that Qibli only acts like he cares about Thorn, his fucking adoptive mother, to get her to pay attention to him is a wild stretch and such a butchering of their relationship I’m genuinely still trying to comprehend it.

Qibli thinks Thorn hung the moon because, honestly, when you’re deprived of kindness, having it freely given feels like magic. And Thorn is one of the few dragons in Qibli’s life that has given him any amount of genuine compassion. And we see this with Moon too, the fact she thinks of him as smart and kind himself is something new and kind of shocking for Qibli. This is only emphasized by the fact she’s seen into his thoughts and finds someone she loves there. He thinks of Moon as being way too good for him (and he doesn’t understand why she likes *him*, or if she does at all) and it shows.

Like I know the point they’re trying to get at with this analysis, but it’s such a strange reading of the text. Qibli comparing himself to Winter in his thoughts is not the same thing as him pressuring Moon to choose him, if you remember, Qibli still has a piece of skyfire, meaning his thoughts are blocked from Moon’s. He isn’t thinking these things in an active attempt to pressure Moon, these are just his thoughts! He isn’t trying to pressure Moon into being in a relationship with him, he is just a deeply self loathing character, and her response reflects that with how she replies “don’t overthink this. say yes” BECAUSE QIBLI HAS BEEN, IF ANYTHING ELSE, DELIBERATELY AVOIDING TRYING TO PUT HER IN A POSITION WHERE SHE IS HIS ONLY OPTION. LIKE THIS WHOLE BOOK IS HIM GOING “I don’t want to pressure Moon into a relationship, I love her but I want what’s best for her”. AND SHE WANTS TO MAKE SURE HE KNOWS SHE’S SINCERE AND WANTS THIS TOO.

And related to this: Him thinking about Winter is not about trying to garner sympathy from Moon or make himself the one who needs her attention, it’s based off genuinely feeling Winter brings more to the table and would be better for her. I’ll say it again: Qibli is a deeply insecure dragon who doubts his own skills constantly, that’s the root of him comparing himself to Winter.

SO: EVERYTHING I’VE DESCRIBE IS UNHEALTHY. LIKE THIS IS NOT A HEALTHY WAY TO LIVE. BUT IT’S NOT MANIPULATIVE. I think what I would call Qibli is, more than anything, codependent. His relationships with Moon and Thorn involve idolizing them to an unhealthy degree and placing them on a pedestal where everything they do is right. I would’ve loved to see this get actually explored in canon.

Now. I do want to point out Qibli’s book is not actually very good lol. Qibli is also never wrong, which is boring and bad storytelling. He solves everything put in front of him and always comes out perfectly fine and forgiving. I would’ve loved to see him as a more complex character, and honestly a better written character here’s how BPD qibli can still win- *I am dragged off-stage by a comically long hook*

And it’s worth mentioning: Part of Qibli being written without meaningful flaws is that this is presented as his genuine thoughts and feelings and reality. Qibli is not an unreliable narrator like Darkstalker or Peril. So the idea he’s “acting” or otherwise pretending to have these feelings is a really bad read.

Not to get personal, but Qibli as a character matters to me a lot. As someone who struggles with a lot of the same inner monologue to the point of being brought to tears when I read this book the first time, this book and the message mean a lot to me. The idea that that inner monologue is indicative of being manipulative is the kind of rhetoric that lead to me feeling like I was manipulating people into caring about me when I shared my problems. That idea has actively sabotaged relationships in my life, and I cannot stress how much I hate it. That the only way to be mentally ill is to suffer in silence away from the world because sharing your feelings with loved ones is forcing them to care about you.

I understand being annoyed by Qibli’s narration. I like a lot of Qibli critical analysis. Do not take this as me mindlessly defending this character. But I do not like the rhetoric I’m seeing passed around AT ALL.

so y’know. If you can have compassion for Winter, you can have compassion for Qibli.

#qibli #qibli wof #qibli the sandwing #wof #wings of fire #ok to reblog #do not take this the wrong way I have respect for the ppl who reblogged the post and like. I generally like the content the person who made-#-the post makes. I don't have any actual ill will towards them #but god #sometimes. trauma victims. are traumatized #WILD CONCEPT I KNOW #if this is ur approach to someone clearly in pain and trying their best to be a good person idk if I feel safe around you

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writer-monster · 3 years

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11 reasons why cap 4 should reintroduce Bucky Barnes as the love interest, an essay

to start this off, i am not writing this essay from a shipping place nor do i believe that this would have any influence at all over the upcoming movie. i expect nothing. this is simply something that i would personally like to see. (of course no hate to anybody who thinks differently)

here are 11 reasons why i think making Bucky into Sam Wilson's love interest in Cap 4 would be a good move for Disney.

1. on the Chinese film market - and why it's an irrelevant argument against the inclusion of homosexual themes in Cap 4

the Chinese film market is something that has been blamed for a lack of diversity in Hollywood films a lot lately. many people claim that this market with a lot of buying power has been responsible for the lack of gay and black representation in particular within Hollywood films.

and we have certainly seen Hollywood treating it as such, going so far as to cut gay scenes from movies for their Chinese releases, and vastly minimising John Boyega's (a black actor's) presence in the Chinese poster of Star Wars The Force Awakens.

[image ID: on the left is an image of the American poster for Star Wars The Force Awakens, featuring John Boyega prominently on the right-hand side. And on the right is the Chinese poster for the same movie, in which John Boyega is barely visible.]

so we know at the very least that Disney believes this through their own actions and efforts to self-censor for the different markets.

but Captain America 4 is a black-led movie, don't you forget. and Disney can't minimise Sam Wilson/Anthony Mackie in the movie or the poster because it's his movie and his poster. and no amount of creativity in the editing room can change that (thank God!).

so if by their own argument the film is already going to be either banned, panned or slammed in China... then what do they have to fear from making it a gay movie too?

2. oh, the queerbaiting

queerbaiting is an unusual cultural idea. and sometimes i find myself thinking that the term is far too easily used, but then all of a sudden i will stumble upon a movie or show that is so quintessentially cruel and overt in it's... well... queerbaiting that i will start to wonder what the hell kind of a bizarre relationship all these straight people seem to have with their friends. take Troy and Abed from Community or John and Sherlock from Sherlock as the perfect examples of this. (in which my reaction to the show's creators saying the show wasn't gay was to ask so then why did you make it so gay?!)

i felt that Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes in tfatws were getting quite close to this level of queerbaiting.

there was the field scene, the couple's counselling scene, the boat scene, the couple's counselling scene, Bucky going with Sam to face Karli when she told Sam to come alone, the couple's counselling scene, ALL the staring scenes, Sam checking out Bucky's ass here as they said goodbye, the "i would move in with him but" hidden scene, "Uncle Bucky" showing up at the cookout scene, the romantic walking off together into the sunset together ending scene, and the couple's counselling scene. did i forget anything? but i mean seriously, the couple's counselling scene!!! that thing they did with their legs and their crotches while staring deep into each other's eyes, would any straight guy willingly do that? do straight guys crotch-snuggle now?

[image ID: an image of Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes during the therapy scene with the quote, "Isn't anybody going to drag me into impromptu couple's therapy and slot my legs firmly between theirs before staring deeply into my eyes?"]

(yeah i stole this image from a buzzfeed article on the fan reactions to the couple's therapy scene. but given that they stole 80% of the content of that article from fandom tumblr, i think it's pretty even-steven.)

there's also the fact that people started talking about bisexual Bucky Barnes a lot after the tiger pictures line, and the lead writer Malcom Spellman responded to the talk of Bucky's bisexuality with "just keep watching". well we watched, Malcolm. but it's beginning to feel like you were just jerking us around.

3. the writing

seriously though, what else is Bucky Barnes doing right now in the MCU? his only remaining connection to anything going on right now is through Sam. there is literally nothing else established that's left for him to do that doesn't involve Sam. he moved to Louisiana to be closer to Sam (canonically), he hangs out with Sam's family (canonically), and Steve is presumably gone and is definitely not coming back for more adventures.

he has no villains or loose ends left. he has no other superheroes that he appears to be in contact with. he has no girlfriend or potential love interest, or even other friends or family. he is living in a tent that he has secretly set up in Sam's backyard and is mysteriously appearing from the bushes when it's time for dinner like a stray cat.

in my opinion there is no other meaningful and pre-established progression for Bucky's character that wouldn't just feel cheap.

plus, i don't think the general audience would be all that surprised if they kissed. i think a LOT of people picked up on all that tension. i think a lot of straight people picked up on all that tension too.

4. the chemistry between the actors & the chemistry between the characters

the original pitch for tfatws was essentially just this, it was the chemistry between Sebastian Stan and Anthony Mackie and their respective MCU characters of Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson.

now obviously Anthony and Sebastian are simply friends, and i wouldn't mean to imply anything more. but they are also not their characters.

Sam and Bucky's scenes together before tfatws were both limited and short, and yet audiences still fell in love with the dynamic between the two characters.

in interviews, these two actors are constantly slipping into character and flirting with each other and frankly it's adorable. plus it's really entertaining. i'd love to see that dynamic, unfiltered, in a movie.

because believe it or not the flirting is actually even more open in their interviews than it was in tfatws. and i'm leaving some links as proof.

this here is known as the "married" compilation

and here's a "lucky dip" selection of interviews - 1, 2, 3, 4, 5,

and here's Anthony trying to get Seb to take his jacket off.

i'm just saying, why not let their chemistry shine? these two are so talented and so entertaining, especially when you put them in a room together. and can you imagine how absolutely hilarious and brilliant it would be to watch them navigate being a couple?

(and for those who bring up the "friends would be uncomfortable pretending to be dating" argument, i'm not here asking for a sex scene or anything. i don't think anyone would expect them to show any more intimacy (physical or emotional) while playing a couple than what they've already shown together in say... tfatws or in their own interviews. not that i actually expect anything regardless.)

5. if they were a man and a woman they would've gotten together in tfatws

i have no more to add here. just that... yeah, they would've.

6. and i'm not talking about the comics here, i'm talking about the MCU.

i understand fully that none of what i'm saying here falls in line with these characters from the comics. but the mcu itself doesn't fall much in line with the comics either, and these two characters especially are very different from their comics counterparts.

i'm not asking for these two to get together in the comics. tbh i don't think that it would work.

but the mcu Sam and Bucky are different and closer than their comics counterparts. they've got different histories, different backstories, and a very different dynamic. please rest assured that i am only talking about them in the mcu.

7. Bucky Barnes is believably bisexual. and Sam Wilson has never been proven to be straight in the mcu, nor has he had a love interest.

(now please continue to keep in mind that these points only stand for the mcu versions of Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson, and not at all for their comics counterparts.)

Sam Wilson has never had a love interest, which is crazy because have you seen that man! he has had two blink and you'll miss it moments of verbal expression of attraction to women, both in TWS. and that's the extent of it, through his entire history in the mcu.

Bucky Barnes has had a number of surface-level female love interests, but none of them even came close to the level of connection and chemistry that Bucky shares with Sam.

and i'm sorry SarahBucky fans, but i just don't think there's very much to their relationship either. i love Sarah, i really do. but it's Sam who shares all the meaningful moments and history and chemistry with Bucky. and i don't see what making her into a love interest would do for Sarah's character either, what would that add to her story?

[Picture ID: Bucky at the cookout with Sam, Sarah, Cass and AJ. Bucky and Sam are looking at each other and smiling.]

and also there is the whole tiger pictures thing... again. which does strongly suggest that Bucky is bisexual whether this was intentional on behalf of the writers or not.

8. it's representation... AND it feels natural

marvel hasn't had a lot of queer representation that's been noticeably present in the MCU at the time of writing this.

there have been a lot of failures so far, from the bisexual erasure of Valkyrie in Thor Ragnarok to the wlw erasure in Black Panther.

there was queerbaiting almost identical to the bisexual Bucky baiting for Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2. when asked if he had considered featuring a gay hero in gotg2, director James Gunn stated that "We might have already done that. I say, watch the movie." after the movie's release audiences were understandably confused about the lack of queer representation. To which the director followed up his comments with, "But we don't really know who's gay and who's not. It could be any of them."

there is also Loki, considered by most fans after the airing of his six episode series on Disney+ to be both a poor attempt at both genderfluid representation and bisexual representation. with both attempts being summed up fairly well by the term "blink-and-you'll-miss-it". (also it's just terribly written and Loki doesn't wear any interesting clothes! fanficcers are a Goddamn blessing in this hard time!)

and let us not forget that Andrew Garfield was apparently FIRED for pushing for a bisexual spiderman. a bisexual spiderman within an interracial mlm relationship no less.

so for all these failures, marvel, why not allow us queer fans this? two brilliant and heroic men in a loving interracial relationship. two heroes that we can look up to.

now, one of the biggest detractions from the argument for representation is the idea of "forced diversity". and some poorly written characters certainly do end up feeling forced into the narrative. take Iceman in the comics for example, with Jean Grey just straight up suddenly telling him he's gay. like, marvel, sweetie, that's not how this works! and i don't know a lot of queer people who thought much of that "representation".

but the crux of the "forced diversity" argument is almost always that it feels unnatural within the story, right? and i don't think that anyone could say that about MCU Sam and Bucky ending up together, given these characters' existing chemistry and their history. they've both played characters in gay relationships before so we know that it's not outside of either actor's wheelhouse. and y'all know that Anthony and Seb can act, people. if it's in the script i believe that they'll make it seem like the most natural thing on earth.

9. it'd be a nice change

there's been an ongoing meme lately about "Disney's first gay character", the joke being that they continually announce gay characters without really ever including gay characters in their films.

this is to the point where Disney has formed a reputation amongst queer audiences of being homophobic.

if Sam and Bucky were to become a couple, then Disney could have its first actual gay character within a gay relationship. AND have him be in the lead of his own movie, no less.

it's also worth keeping in mind that there's likely an overlap between the people who were outraged by a Sam Wilson Captain America, and the people who'd be outraged by a gay Captain America. and if they were already not seeing the film, then i don't think much is gonna change that.

queer audiences would definitely love it, and the media attention would be guaranteed to be huge. i mean, simply look at the amount of media attention mere rumours of a character's queerness gets you and multiply that by a canon confirmation of said rumours.

but i'm pretty sure that Disney already knows this.

10. and yet, in truth, it's not about the representation

in truth i've never felt that i had any trouble relating to characters of any sexual orientation, race, gender, sex, body type, etc. (although that is not to throw any shade at all on people who do wish to see themselves represented) but for me, i think it's more about the story than the packaging.

and yet, a love story is still just a story. straight or queer, monoethnic or interracial. when two characters have chemistry and history and have sacrificed for each other time and time again, and they also can't keep their hands or their eyes off each other, then i'm pretty sure that that's a love story.

straight or queer, monoethnic or interracial, it shouldn't be about these simple labels. it should be about how well written the relationship is. it should be about chemistry, and history, and sacrifice.

because i'm fucking sick of all the hollow, forced romances in media no matter the genders of the participants. i'm sick of lazily written, shallow relationships where any two people sharing the same space for any extended period of time will simply fall in love. it's boring, it's repetitive, and as a writer myself it drives me up the wall!

romance stories suck! and everyone knows that romance stories suck. between twilight, and most of the entire YA genre, and love triangles (so boring), and romance used as poorly-written throwaway subplots in Hollywood movies, the world is in agreement that the romance in western media is simply dreadful. and yet we still want love stories. it's an entire genre that sits at the heart of the human experience (<3), and yet one which so few of today's best known writers seem truly able to capture.

i don't think that i'm the only one who feels this way, either. i suspect it's actually a large part of why fandom is so romance-centred in the first place, that we're all just starving for a good love story.

(btw i think fandom has a reputation for being something that as a whole that it is not. it has this reputation for straight up demanding things and harassing people until they get their way. while unfortunately there are a few people who do this, they're fucking annoying and i swear that they're far from the majority.

in my experience fandom is mostly about writing a five thousand word story at three am while drunk off your ass because it might make someone whom you've never met smile, editing it in the cold light of day, and then posting it. expecting nothing. sometimes getting nothing. and sometimes getting someone send you kudos or a comment so heartbreakingly wonderful that it makes you smile in return.)

11. so once again, it is all about the writing.

i want to see Sam and Bucky get together in the mcu, not because they would be a gay couple but because i genuinely believe that their story has potential to be an amazing love story.

and i know the mcu isn't about the romance. it's why in my personal opinion we haven't gotten a lot of good canon romances besides Peter Quill and Gamora. and i don't think that the mcu should be all about the romance either. i fucking love the action and the fighting scenes. i love the comedy. Captain America: The Winter Soldier had no romance and it was a fucking treasure, it was an amazing spy-action-thriller and it made my little gay heart dance. Thor Ragnarok had no romance, and it was an utterly brilliant comedic spectacle action film. not every movie needs romance.

but mcu Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes were doing couple's therapy and fixing a boat and walking off into the sunset together in tfatws. they were inseparable on the battlefield. they've got a dynamic. it's beautiful, it's romantic, and it's gold.

a budding relationship between them in the next movie would be a good way to explore both characters more without the narrative feeling too stilted and separate. at the end of tfatws, both Sam and Bucky fans found that their respective fave felt somewhat underutilised and that their characters were underexplored.

now, that problem would be even more difficult to remedy in a movie, because the plotline of a movie needs to be really tight to work (giggity). and we know that the central conflict of the movie is gonna be action-based (which is good), but we still need each character's personal journey and growth to tie into the main conflict. (which is another issue that some fans found with tfatws, that these characters didn't really feel connected to the action-based plot on a more personal level.)

if Sam and Bucky are already in a relationship, however, this whole dynamic changes. first, their relationship has already been set up for nicely since TWS and through tfatws and they would officially be the best-fleshed-out couple in the mcu. but most importantly, a relationship gives them a perfect vehicle to explore both of their pasts comparatively and connect them personally to the action-based plot.

do you want to establish that Sam is a little too trusting and naïve? then establish this through his relationship with Bucky, and through showing his placing his trust in Bucky. (rather than through having him sympathise with a villain who threatened to murder his sister and his nephews).

perhaps you want to show Bucky recovering from his trauma? show us how comfortable he is with Sam. they get along, they're enjoying each other's presence, we see more of Sam's life and of his family, and then let Bucky tell Sam something that's raw and dark and honest about his life as The Winter Soldier. something about a memory, one that he only just recalled. he's opening up. and maybe what he tells Sam is even something that sets up the future action-based conflict, to ground that in something real.

you want to explore that Sam has trauma too? do this through Bucky. he tells Bucky a story about his time in the military. in the form of a flashback, he shares his own story of loss to evoke before the audience the shared theme of feeling at fault even when you're simply a helpless bystander to an act of pure destruction.

then, action sequence! and it's directly connected to Bucky's time as the Winter Soldier. explore the grief of someone whose life the Winter Soldier tore apart manifesting into a villain perpetuating the cycle of pain. establish your villain.

Later, Sam is dragged into battle against this villain for protecting Bucky. But Bucky doesn't want Sam to protect him. He feels guilt for what he can't control and he doesn't want Sam getting hurt because of him. Bucky reminds Sam that he has a family, one who needs him and who loves him. He tells him to go home.

Sam reminds Bucky that he's a part of that family. And that sure Sam's a hero and his job is to protect anyone and everyone, but that he's doing it because he wants to. It's not simply to prove that he can, or to prove that he's not a bystander (this connects to Sam's trauma here), but that he's doing it to help people.

and this gets Bucky thinking about who he is and what he's doing here. is he a hero who stands by Sam's side? or is he an ordinary man who stands aside? or perhaps, does he stand alone? what does he stand for? Maybe Sam knows. But does Bucky?

Sam and Bucky fight off the villain again, and for the first time Bucky meets this adversary face to face. And Bucky recognises this villain, and has a flashback to the genuine pain that he inflicted upon them in the form of the Winter Soldier. Bucky freezes mid-fight, he almost dies, and Sam has to save him.

Sam chews Bucky out for almost getting killed because he was afraid for him. but Bucky takes this the wrong way and goes off to fight the villain alone, or perhaps to die alone, he's not quite sure.

He puts up a half-hearted fight. He apologises for what the Winter Soldier has done, and he waits for the killing blow, when Sam swoops down and he saves him. He asks Sam why he saved him and Sam calls him a moron. And then, Sam asks him what sacrificing himself would solve. He tells him that you can't choose your past but you can choose your future (connecting to his own experience of loss and guilt and grief). And that no matter what Bucky Barnes still has a future, whether that's as the Winter Soldier or the White Wolf or just some dork with a day job. And that he has a future as a part of Sam's family too.

Sam fights the villain, and it's toe to toe. He delivers a few good blows, but receives a fair few himself. And then the villain tears off his wings, first one and then the other, in a manner reminiscent of what the Winter Soldier did to him in TWS. Through Bucky's eyes there's a flashback to highlight the parallels. Sam gets back on his feet and he fights his best fight, but is now losing.

And then the heavily injured Bucky steps up and fights by Sam's side, and only together do they take down the villain.

"So... I inspired you, huh?" Sam teases with a smile, utterly exhausted. "With my heroism and-"

"You inspired me." Bucky said, equally exhausted. "Let's leave it at that."

Together, Sam and Bucky go back to the safety and warmth of their family. Sam fixes his wings. Sam goes back to being Captain America. And Bucky... he's around, but it's unclear what he's doing.

That is, until the very end. When Sam is in a fight, and suddenly Bucky shows up and helps him out.

"What are you doing here?" Sam asks.

"I've made up my mind." Bucky says. "I'm the Winter Soldier. But now I'll save lives, Sam. Now, like you, I'll be a hero."

Sam smirks. "So does this make you my sidekick, then?"

Bucky smiles. "C'mon, at least make me a partner." He says.

"How about co-workers." Sam says (in flashback, he remembers back to the death of his last on-the-job partner).

"How about friends." Bucky says, with a wry look.

"Bucky... I don't want to see you put your dumbass self in danger." Sam says.

"Oh, and it's ok for you to go running off into danger on your own all the time?" Bucky asks.

"Yes." Sam says stubbornly. "Absolutely it is."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not a dumbass?!"

"Sam, if you think I'm not gonna be watching your back for the rest of time... then you're the biggest dumbass I know. And I don't care if you need me or not, I will be there for you."

"Because Sam, you're more than Captain America. You're more than a good soldier. You're a good man. And I think sometimes, the world forgets what the difference is."

...or something like that.

(i only spent like 15 minutes on that. you know if i were actually writing this movie i would come up with something much better. and if anyone from marvel is seeing this, yes i can come work for you. i will make the time, let's do this thing right!)

finale

at the end of the day, whether or not the mcu chooses to make Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes a couple, it's their decision. and they don't owe me anything.

i'm just some random person on the internet. who thinks that Captain America 4 should #givecaptainamericaaboyfriend

#givecaptainamericaaboyfriend #meta #analysis #captain america 4 #caatws #fatws #tfatws #captain america #cap 4 #sam wilson #bucky barnes #sambucky #marvel #mcu #mcu phase 4

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cuttoothed · 3 years

Text

Fic for day 3 of @jonmartinweek for the prompt "Healing & Recovery". We've all been saying jmart need a lot of therapy after the finale, so...yeah.

Disclaimer: I have never been to couple's therapy. I have done some reading on it, but this is not intended in any way to accurately reflect real world therapy practices. Please just assume that anything "off" is due to the way couple's therapy is practiced in AU-land (though of course feel free to let me know if you spot anything egregious).

“Why don’t you start,” Judith suggests, “By telling me about the incident?”

The two men on the sofa give her identical startled looks, as if she’s uncovered something incriminating. Martin seems to regain his composure first; he clears his throat, and his hand moves to cover Jon’s, unconsciously protective.

“Sorry, wh-what do you mean by “incident”?”

“For most couples who come to see me, there’s an...inciting incident,” Judith explains. “Something that makes them realize they could use some professional support to work through things. Of course any couple can benefit from seeing a therapist together on occasion, to deal with small issues before they become big ones. But, well, it’s the same way that everyone knows they should go for regular check ups with their GP rather than waiting until they actually get sick—it’s just not something most people get around to until they need it.”

She pauses to give them time to consider that, and after a moment Jon nods, looking mildly embarrassed.

“Right,” he says. “That’s, ah, I think that’s fair.”

“There are pretty strong extenuating circumstances, though,” Martin huffs defensively. “We didn’t exactly have the option for therapy in the a—wh-where we lived before.”

“It’s not intended as a criticism,” Judith tells him. “You’ve chosen to talk to a therapist, and that’s a big step—one that many people never take. You’re ahead of the curve, Martin.”

Martin looks mollified at that; he’s clearly a bit touchy about perceived criticisms of their relationship, and Judith doesn’t want to get him on the defensive. She gives them both an encouraging smile.

“So,” she says. “Is there an incident you’d like to talk about?”

The two of them look at each other expectantly, as if each is waiting for the other to start. After several long moments of silence, Jon raises his eyebrows meaningfully, and Martin sighs.

“Fine,” he says. “So, we, uh, we recently realized that our...garden was a-a bit of a mess. So we—Jon and I—we get together with our...housemates, to figure out what kind of flowers we should plant. Fuschias or—or hydrangeas. ”

He pauses to glance nervously at Jon, who gives him a reassuring nod, squeezing his hand.

Right, Judith thinks, This is probably not about flowers.

“We agree we all want fuschias,” Martin continues, “Except Jon—he wanted hydrangeas. But we took a vote, and it was fuschias.”

“Except of course most of our—our housemates weren’t there for that meeting,” Jon interjects, folding his arms across his chest.

“Yes, but we agreed we couldn’t wait to ask every single person,” Martin says sharply, back on the defensive. Jon’s brow furrows and his mouth opens as if to say something, but he changes his mind and shuts it again. Conflict aversion is one of the most common dysfunctions Judith sees in the couples she treats; very few people want to disagree with the person they love, and even fewer know how to have a constructive conflict. She makes a mental note of it for later.

“Go ahead, Martin,’ she suggests gently. Martin looks unhappy, but continues.

“So we agree to plant the fuschias the next day, but Jon—Jon sneaks out in the middle of the night and starts, uh, planting hydrangeas. Without telling anyone.”

Without telling me, Judith hears in his hurt tone. Jon’s arms are still folded, and he’s almost squirming in his seat with the effort to not interject; Judith decides it’s a good time to invite him into the story.

“Jon, why did you feel so strongly about the hydrangeas?”

“It’s—it wasn’t that I wanted hydrangeas, I just couldn’t a-accept the idea of—of fuchsias.”

“Couldn’t allow it, you mean,” Martin grumbles. Judith lets it pass and continues to focus on Jon.

“Why is that?”

“They, uh, they spread…” Jon waves his hands vaguely. “Their—their...roots? They would get into the, uh, the neighbors’ gardens, completely take over, destroy everything.”

“Potentially,” Martin insists. “There was no guarantee—”

“There was no reason they wouldn’t,” Jon snaps.

By now Judith is not only sure that this has nothing to do with gardening, but suspects that neither of these men has ever seen a fuchsia in their lives. It’s fine, though. This is far from the first time a client has invented a story out of whole cloth so they can work through something uncomfortable without actually describing it. And this is their first session; Judith hopes in the future they’ll trust her enough to give her the real story.

“Remember,” she tells them. “We’re not here to decide that someone was objectively right or wrong, we’re here to help you understand each other and improve your communication skills.”

“Right,” Martin mutters, unconvinced. Jon’s expression is distressed, but he continues.

“There was no other choice,” he says wearily. “The only other option was—was azaleas, and I know you didn’t want that, Martin.”

“Absolutely not.” Martin sounds horrified. “But hydrangeas, Jon? Do you really think that was a better option?”

“You have to see the difference.” Jon’s tone goes stiff and incredulous, as if he’s winding up for a lecture, and Judith decides to cut that off before it starts.

“So what I’m hearing,” she says, “Is that you both had very strong, conflicting opinions on this topic. And that’s okay—it’s okay for you to disagree, even on something important. You’re not always going to agree on what the right thing to do is. Often there is no single “right thing,” so it comes down to how the different choices make us feel.”

“That doesn’t seem like a good way to make a decision that affects the wh—a lot of people.” Jon clearly considers that his opinion on not-flowers was the objectively correct one. Judith smiles.

“People aren’t computers, Jon. Even the most logical minded person in the world is influenced by their feelings—about important issues, about other people. You’d be surprised at how much of our decision making is rooted in emotion; either how we anticipate the outcome of our decision will make us feel, or how we are feeling in the immediate moment of the choice.”

A spasm of something that might be grief or pain flashes across Jon’s face, and he leans unconsciously in Martin’s direction. Martin’s arm instantly goes around him, offering comfort without thought. It’s clear that these two love each other deeply, unquestioningly—and that’s also part of the problem. When someone you love thinks that you’re wrong about something that’s important to you, it can feel like a rejection of your entire self.

“I’d like to pause this discussion for now, and try a little exercise,” she says. Jon nods, sitting back up and disengaging from Martin’s embrace; Martin looks attentively at her, though his expression is unsure.

“One of the biggest challenges we face with people we love is recognizing that they are separate from us. I know—” she says, raising her hands to stop the objections she can already see forming on their lips. “Of course you know that you’re separate people. We all know that, rationally. But emotionally, it’s natural to see the people you’re close to as extensions of yourself—it’s an evolutionary impulse to aid group bonding. It happens with friends and family, and it’s an even stronger impulse between partners.

“We have to do a lot of work to truly internalize the idea that the people we love have their own inner emotional lives that drive their opinions and decisions. But once you are able to fully grasp that truth, it makes disagreeing with the person you love feel less emotionally fraught; it’s a powerful tool for navigating conflict constructively.”

Jon is frowning, but it’s in consideration rather than disapproval. Martin still looks skeptical, his body language defensive, though he doesn’t say anything. That’s probably the best she’s going to get for now, Judith thinks.

“So,” she says. “The exercise is this: I’d like each of you to take a few moments to think, and then tell the other person something about yourself. Not a fact, but something that you feel. And I would like you to listen without interrupting when your partner tells you their feeling. Can you each do that?”

“I, ah—” Jon’s frown deepens. “That’s...rather difficult to do on demand.”

“I know,” says Judith with sympathy. “That’s why I’m here, to support you both in doing the difficult things. If it was easy, you wouldn’t need a therapist to facilitate.”

“Right,” says Jon. “Okay.”

“Martin?”

“Fine,” he says, but his tone is reluctant. Judith gets it; vulnerability is hard enough in front of someone you love, never mind with a stranger in the room. It’s easier to pretend that it’s pointless, that you’re not really putting yourself out there to be hurt. She has the feeling that Martin is someone who would rather avoid being hurt, even if it means closing himself off.

“All right,” she says. “When you’re ready, Jon, would you mind going first? No rush, take all the time you need.” Hopefully, seeing Jon take the first step might help Martin get over some of his defensiveness.

“Oh,” he says, and for a few moments his expression devolves into one of intense concentration. Then he nods, turning towards Martin.

“Start with “I feel”,” Judith suggests.

“All right,” he says, breathless with nerves. “I, uh, I feel...responsible. For—well, for everything, basically. And for everyone. Bad things have happened to people, and it’s my fault, because I should have done something. Everything that happened, back there, it was all because of me.”

“It wasn’t you, Jon!” Martin protests. “Annabelle told us—”

Judith is about to remind him that he’s supposed to just be listening, but he cuts himself off first. Jon laughs, an ugly sound that’s more like a sob.

“And how is that supposed to help? Knowing that the—that they were using me my whole life, how does that absolve me of any responsibility for what I did? For the fact that I failed to do anything to stop them? I couldn’t even go through with the one thing that could have actually meant something, because—”

He clamps his mouth shut, his jaw locked tight; Martin looks down at his hands, his expression distraught.

“Because of me.”

“Martin—” Jon’s tone is wounded, and he reaches for Martin’s hand. Judith sees reflections of a shared pain in both their faces, though she doesn’t understand why; this would be a lot easier if they’d just tell her the truth.

But you didn’t get into this profession because it was easy, did you?

“Thank you for sharing that, Jon. I think there’s a lot more for us to explore there, but let’s give you a break and give Martin a chance to share, okay?”

Jon nods, clutching Martin’s hand in his. Martin gives a long, slow exhale.

“Righto,” he says with false, brittle cheer. “”I feel,” wasn’t it? Right. Jon, when you do something stupidly self-sacrificing for other people, I feel like everyone else is more important than me.”

Jon flinches.

“Martin,” Judith says, keeping her tone level. “Let’s keep the focus on what you feel, not on what causes you to feel that way, okay?”

“Right,” Martin mutters, and glances at Jon. “Okay. In that case, I feel...like I’m not important. Like the only thing I can really do is—is take care of you. And if I can’t even do that, then what bloody use am I? That’s it, I suppose.”

“Martin…” Jon says again, softly. His eyes are wet, and he’s clinging to Martin’s hand like a drowning man to a plank. Martin swallows hard and shakes his head, but he makes no move to extract his hand from Jon’s grip.

“Thank you, Martin,” Judith tells him. “I know that wasn’t easy to share, for either of you. But this is the kind of honesty that we need, in order to build strong communication. Let’s all take five minutes—if either of you want to take a bathroom break, or get some water—and then we can talk about where to go from here. All right?”

Martin disappears to the loo, while Jon wanders around the office, looking with polite interest at the shelves of books and ornaments. Judith writes a few notes for herself, to follow up in future sessions. She hopes there’ll be future sessions. Both of these men seem deeply hurt, traumatized by events that they’re just barely alluding to, and have clearly been struggling through as best they can with less than ideal coping mechanisms, trying—and likely failing—not to hurt each other in the process. They both need individual counselling as much as couples’ therapy—maybe more. She’s certainly going to recommend it..

They clearly love each other, though. And they want to make it work. If they’re willing to put the effort in, they have better than even odds in their favor.

Martin’s eyes are red-rimmed when he returns; he sits on the sofa as near as he can to Jon, who presses their shoulders together. Judith can’t help smiling at the sight.

“How long have the two of you been together?” she asks. She always asks new clients at the end of the first session, rather than at the beginning; that way she can get a feel for the relationship without preconceptions based on longevity. The two of them look at each other properly, for the first time since Martin came back in, and matching, sheepish smiles break out on both their faces after a moment.

“So it was three weeks in Scotland,” Martin begins, ticking it off on his fingers. “And then—how long?”

“Uhh, it’s...let’s say half a year, give or take?” Jon makes a face that says he’s really not all that sure.

“Right, and then we’ve been here nearly six months. So...about a year, all in all?”

“But we knew each other for over three years before that,” Jon insists earnestly.

“It sounds as if the two of you have been through a lot,” says Judith. “And not all of it gardening related?”

“No,” Jon says with a self-deprecating chuckle. “Mostly not.”

“We barely scratched the surface today—and that’s normal. Relationships are complicated, and it takes a lot of time and hard work to build understanding and communication. But I promise you, it is worth all the effort. You both made a really strong start today—it takes courage to be that honest, even with your partner.”

The two of them give each other a long look, and the smile they trade is tentative, but genuine. They haven’t solved anything today, have only just begun to reveal their hurt and their insecurities; they have a long journey ahead to get to a truly honest, healthy place both for themselves and their relationship. Judith has a feeling they’ll persevere, though—that losing each other simply isn’t an option.

“So,” she says, “Should we make this a recurring appointment?”

Jon glances questioningly at Martin, who bites his lip and then nods firmly, taking Jon’s hand in his.

“Yeah,” Martin says. “We’ve done much harder things. We can do this.”

“Together?” says Jon, and Martin smiles.

“No matter what.”

#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartinweek2021 #my fic #jonmartin

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

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Not really a request, just sharing my horny thoughts 😅 Imagine Laszlo marrying a SO who's very repressed and religious. She expects to have sex with him as a means to have children, but she doesn't really expect to enjoy it. We know, though, that Dr. Kreizler knows his way around a woman's body, so she's horrified when she finds herself feeling so much pleasure and wanting more. As far as she's concerned, her lust is sinful, but she still has to fulfill her "wifely duty." Thus, she attempts to hold back her orgasms during sex. Laszlo, of course, notices her tension and stops everything to check on his beloved wife. When she finally admits everything, Laszlo just lays her back down and puts his skills to the test. He starts making her come over and over as he lectures her about how unhealthy that was and how her doctor husband knows better than that bullshit they've been telling her. Thanks for coming to my TED Talk

fuck I love this. like he's probably equipped to give you actual talk therapy about your hangups about sex, slowly introduce you to the idea that it's okay to enjoy yourself and that he wants you to... but I'm having more fun imagining him making you come over and over on his fingers, like he just fuckin' rolls his sleeves up and dives in, and keeps going until you squirt (and then still keeps going).

he'd probably start very clinical in his comments, just little praises like "yes, there you go, see? it feels good. it's supposed to." but then it would get subtly kinkier as he's like "good girl. that's it, that's my pretty little wife, you're doing so well-- you can come again, yes?"

and then he starts getting demanding: "louder. I want to hear you, darling, say my name again. tell me who's making you feel so good, tell me whose wife you are."

but by the time you're totally gone and you've come more than you thought possible, it gets downright filthy y'all... "look how shameless you are, from a shy prudish housewife to a desperate little whore... how many times have you come, darling, can you even remember? oh don't cry, you can give me a few more, but these will be while I'm inside you... I want to hear how loud you scream when you're being fucked, now that you're finally ready to admit how much you love it. I want to feel you come around my cock and I want you to tell me how much you love being my wife, can you do that for me?"

because the truth is, he thinks you looks cute when you're a little ashamed and embarrassed. so he probably gets in the habit of doing and saying things just a bit more liberal than you're used to, to watch how flustered you get. god, when he eats you out for the first time? you're so fucking shy and you try to cover your face so he has to pin your wrists down at your sides as he does it, and he's sure to stop occasionally to talk to you about how delicious you taste and how precious you sound when you can't fight your moans anymore.

he would definitely use your desire to be a good wife to his advantage, too, and start taking you in random places all over the house. again, it embarrasses you a bit because you'd rather it only happen 1. in the bedroom 2. in the dark 3. late at night before bed, but no, your husband wants to fuck you whenever and wherever he wants and he's happy to remind you that you're his good little wife and so you'll bend over the table or get on your hands and knees on the floor or spread your legs on the couch. but it's not just to his advantage alone; he knows you love it just as much, that you need it maybe even more than he does-- you're always soaked by the time he gets his hands on you.

but the pièce de résistance is when, after months of training you to be open and honest about your desires, is when you finally initiate sex for the first time. it takes a bit of work: he takes a work trip without you, knowing that you'll be desperate by the time he gets back. but, when he does return, he doesn't make a move. sure, he hugs and kisses you and cuddles you all night long, but stays perfectly chaste. he has to test your resolve. you hold out quite a while, another two weeks since his return, and frankly he was worried that he might give in first.

but he sees the look in your eyes when you come to bed for the night, and he knows right away that you're about to finally give in to yourself.

you tell him you want to ask him something. he tries to hide his grin but hears you out, and you say that you need him. poor thing, he just has to taunt you. "in what way?" he presses. you clear your throat and he finally challenges you: "say it."

when you mumble it, make love to me, he has you speak up and so you say it again, louder; and he smiles as he guides you to straddle and ride him, to take what you need, to use his body the way you thought yours was meant to be used by him. honestly, he expected you to be more hesitant, but you were so desperate... you took his cock and guided it into you all by yourself, moaning loudly and bouncing on top of him with every ounce of need you'd been holding back for so long. and fuck if he doesn't love watching you go, he occasionally holds your hips or rubs your legs or massages your breasts but other than that he lets you do all the work. he doesn't want you to do anything except exactly what you want.

"there she is," he cooes at you as you clutch at his chest while you grind yourself on him, bringing yourself to an orgasm that makes you shake and shudder, "there's my beautiful wife... you're such a pretty little whore for me, darling, you look so perfect when you finally just let go."

#this got... specific #laszlo kreizler x reader #saturday night sleepover #laszlo kreizler smut

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blooming-violets · 2 years

Text

Pinky Promise || TASM Ch. 10

Pinky Promise Final Chapter

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six] [Part Seven] [Part Eight] [Part Nine]

Summary: Basically Lucy and Peter go around killing off bad guys until they find Liv. You can’t end a ten part fic without a little, light murder.

Warnings: idk I talk about injuries and blood and electrocution and falling damage

A/N: I did it. I finished a chapter fic. This is big for me. If I never write anything ever again at least I can say I didn’t leave any loose ends open for Peter, Lucy, and Liv. I’m glad it’s over because I think I traumatized the three of them enough. They all need therapy. Thank you for those who stuck around to the end. You all made this depressed old lady feel special. Your support helped me find my love of writing again. Me and my therapist thank you lol xoxo Katie

Tag List: @hannahnikohl @poison-in-society @blooo0ooop @anakins-angel @the-winter-queen @queernami @navs-bhat @rattdonovan @ssa-uglywhore27 @liz-allyn

“Lucy. Lucy, wait!” Peter ran after you. He tried to grab your arm but you shoved him away.

“I’m not speaking to you right now.” You couldn’t look at him. This was his fault. He promised. He made you stay at home. You would have left to get her sooner if you didn’t have his words hovering over your head.

“Lucy, how was I supposed to know any of this would happen? I don’t even know who your father is!”

You turned to face him. Tears burned in your eyes. Your lip quivered. It was taking everything you had in you not to start sobbing uncontrollably in middle of the street. “She’s seven years old, Peter. She’s just a kid. I should have been there! This is your fault! You told me to stay home! You promised me! You promised…” your voice caught in your throat as a sob broke through.

Peter’s eyes filled with pain. He looked down in shame. “I’m sorry,” he croaked out. “I didn’t know.”

Whatever plans your father had with Olivia weren’t done with good intentions. This was a man who murdered a 4 year old child without hesitation. He had no love for his daughters. Whatever he was planning, he needed Olivia for a reason. When she wouldn’t be of use to him anymore, you feared what he might do to her.

You rubbed your nose on your soggy jacket sleeve and turned away from Peter. This was too much. “You’re going to help me find Liv. You’re going to bring her home safe. And then we’re done. I don’t want to see you anymore after that.”

You didn’t care that you were in love with him. If loving Peter meant putting your sister’s life at risk than you weren’t even going to entertain the idea. Olivia would always come first.

Peter took a step back from you. Anguish flashed over his features as he processed your words. “What-no...but-”

“Shut up,” your words were harsh. Even as they fell from your mouth, you already regretted them. “You’re the reason all of this is happening! Spider-Man is the reason Hydro even exists at all! You caused him to become like this, Peter. He was just a normal man before you came along and tossed him into the ocean! Now he’s released hell on the city. People are dying because of you. I told you that if anything happened to Liv I would never forgive you. Well something happened to her, Peter! She fucking missing!”

You let out an angry yell and turned away from him. You couldn’t look at the expression on his face. You knew your words would cut deep into his soul, that’s why you said them. You wanted him to feel the same pain you were. Even still, guilt already tugged at your heart.

You took a deep breath and tried to sort yourself out, “I’m going to start searching the streets for her. You should go try and contain some of the bad guys. Keep an eye out for her while you’re out there.”

You could feel Peter move closer behind you. There was no way you could turn around to face him. Your guilt was too strong. If he saw your face, he would know exactly how you really felt. This was breaking your heart. He pressed something into your hand.

“To keep you safe,” he muttered. The pain was evident in his voice. Your words had done the trick.

You fingers closed around a small ball. One of Peter’s Cryo Cubes. You didn’t have to look at it to know what it was. It would freeze whatever it touched. You couldn’t do this. You had to say something. You wanted to take it all back.

You turned around to apologize but he was already gone. A lump formed in your throat. What had you done?

Now was not the time to cry about it. Your goal was to find your sister.

---

Joseph “Johnny” Miller.

That was the man you were looking for. It had been over seven years since you had last seen him. You didn’t even know if you could trust your memory of what he looked like. Instead, you kept your eyes out for Olivia.

There weren’t very many people left on the streets. Hydro’s flood had destroyed a good few blocks. Everything outside of that area seemed eerily quiet in comparison. Anyone who was sticking around were probably taking shelter in whatever building they could. That’s what a smart person would do anyway.

You jogged through the empty streets in search of your sister. New York had never been this desolate before. It didn’t feel right. Your wet clothes weighed you down. At some point, you had to shrug off your jacket. It was soaking wet and useless in the winter air. You’d stick to your wet sweater and jeans. It was easier to run in them even if it was freezing.

Your heart pounded and your body ached. Your forehead felt like it was being split in half. The blood from your cut had since dried to your face but you could still feel the wound oozing and pulsating on your skin. Even though you couldn’t see it, you knew Peter was right. It needed stitches.

You didn’t want to think about Peter. It hurt too much.

The street you were on was empty just like the last three you had tried. For all you knew, you were going in the opposite direction of Olivia. You had no idea how long ago your father had gotten her. She could be anywhere by now.

You pushed away the nagging tears and cut through an alley to the next street over. A man was sitting in the middle of the otherwise empty street. He was slumped over and sitting in a pool of water. The hair on your arms stood up. Something about him seemed weirdly familiar.

You kept your distance as you asked, “Excuse me, sir? Are you okay?”

The man looked up. He had a mop of blonde hair and watery blue eyes. He looked exhausted. “I’m just resting for a moment,” he mumbled.

You wondered if he was hurt. Slowly, you approached him, “Were you in the flood?”

He didn’t answer you. He was a bit too far from where the flood happened but maybe he had wandered away in a daze. Peter’s inherent goodness had rubbed off on you. You felt the need to help the stranger despite the pressing need to find your sister.

“My name is Lucy. I lost my little sister. I’m looking for her,” you said. Then you asked again. “Do you need help? Were you in the flood?”

The man looked up at you and gave you a sad smile, “I caused the flood.”

Your eyes widened. This was Hydro-Man when he wasn’t in his water form. You debated running away but something kept you here. He didn’t seem that dangerous like this. He just seemed depressed. What was Hydro’s real name? Peter had told you earlier.

“Morris Bench?” You asked.

He gave you a confused look as to why you would know his name, “Morrie. I like Morrie. Do I know you?”

You shook your head, “Not really. We met once before. Kind of. In a bathroom.” You were going to hold up your cast to see if it rang any bells for him. Then you remembered it was decorated to look like Spider-Man’s suit and thought better of that idea, casually hiding it behind your back instead.

A look of recognition dawned on his face, “You were in Peter Parker’s bathroom?”

The blood in your veins ran cold. Why did he know Peter’s name? You tried to play it cool, keeping the conversation as light as possible to not set him off. “Yes. I’m a house cleaner. Well, I was. I was cleaning his house. Did you know him?”

Morrie looked down at his hands. He seemed so sad. It was a vast difference from the Hydro version of himself. “Sorry about that. It wasn’t anything personal. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out an ID, tossing it over to you. “He dropped this on the ship the day it happened.”

You bent down and picked it up. It was a student ID card to the Empire State University. Peter’s face and name were printed clearly on it. Your heart surged with guilt at his image. You rubbed your thumb gently across his picture. You didn’t even know Peter was in college. There were probably a lot of things you didn’t know about him. You wished you had a chance to learn everything but, after what you said, you doubted that would be possible.

Morrie kept talking while you stared down at the ID. “I just get so angry sometimes. It’s like I can’t control it. Whenever I think of Spider-Man-” His body started shaking. You glanced up at him and quickly pocketed Peter’s card. Something was happening to Hydro. The skin on his arm dissolved in front of your eyes and became replaced with moving, circulating water. He clenched his liquid hands into fists. “I hate him. He’s going to pay for what he’s done to me.”

You took a step back. Your hand found the ball in your pocket and gripped it tightly. You were ready to throw it at him the second he lost control. Maybe you could talk him down.

“Spider-Man isn’t why you’re like this. What he did was an accident. He was trying to protect everyone else on board. He’s a good person. He would never purposefully hurt someone like that. If you want to blame someone, you should blame the company that put all that radiation in the ocean. That’s what turned you into this. Not Spider-Man.”

That’s what you truly believed, not whatever you told Peter earlier. You were an asshole. You were so distraught over Olivia that you pushed away the one person who would be willing to go the ends of the earth for you.

Morrie stood up. He looked over at you with anger, “You have no idea what you’re talking about. You don’t know what it’s like to have this thing living inside of you!”

You could see his outline start to quiver and morph into liquid. Crap. You had done the opposite of calm him down. You had pushed him too far. You stumbled backwards. You didn’t know if you’d be able to survive another wave. Your body already felt so weak. Your skin was clammy and your stomach ached. You just didn’t have the strength to fight your away out of the water again.

Just when he fully turned into his watery form, a red ball flew down from the sky. The second it hit him, the water exploded into ice. His entire body froze in place. His icy arm reaching out towards you and his eyes locked in a frozen death stare.

You whipped your head over to see Peter swing down from a building. Your heart jumped in your chest at the sight of him again. You wanted to apologize but you were finding it hard to come to terms with it. Admitting you were wrong wasn’t your strongest suit. Sometimes you were too stubborn for your own good.

He landed in front of you, “Are you okay?”

You didn’t answer. Instead you threw your arms around his neck and hugged him close. Tentatively, he gently wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Did he hurt you?” He asked.

“No,” you wanted to say more. Why weren’t the words coming out of your stupid mouth? You hated that he had his mask back on. You wanted to see his face. You wanted to kiss him and tell him how sorry you were.

“Listen, we don’t have any time. I overheard a couple of escaped inmates talking before I got them. Apparently there’s a group of them who are trying to get out of the city. They mentioned they had a little girl as a hostage. It’s gotta be Liv. I think they’re going to try and use her as a bargaining chip for their freedom.”

Your stomach turned at the thought of your sister surrounded by criminals. Whatever apologies you had buzzing around your head disappeared. There would be time for that later.

“Take me to her.”

Peter didn’t argue even though you knew he wanted to. Like he said, there wasn’t any time. You had to act fast.

---

Peter was able to cover ground much more quickly with his webs than you had been able to by walking. If it wasn’t for him, there was no way you would have found Olivia in time. He had a rough idea of where they were keeping her. Some abandoned warehouse near the river was their choice of hideaway. Apparently extra police forces had been called in. They had blocked off all the bridges and main roads out of the city. If the criminals really wanted to escape then they’d have to get creative. Having a child hostage seemed to be their plan.

“Are we getting closer?” You called to Peter over the sound of the wind whizzing past you as he swung you across the city.

“I think so!” He called back.

You clung onto the front of him, legs wrapped around his waist and arms around his neck, so he could have two free hands to move faster. You liked this position better than the one had he carried you in before. It was less of a jerky motion and felt more fluid for him to move. The only downside was that you were fully in charge of holding on to him without his help. To say you had a death grip on him would be an understatement.

Something appeared in your vision over Peter’s shoulder. It was far off in the distance but gaining on you rapidly.

“Uh, Peter? There’s something coming!” The closer the object got, the more it took shape in your vision. It was the thing on the hoverboard that flew over you earlier. It had caused that car to explode in front of you and your neighbor. With its gaining speed, you were able to start making out its features. It looked like a man but something was not right with his skin. His hair was sticking up straight and he had a crazed look in his eyes. He looked like a very ill person.

“Peter Parker! My old friend!” He called from behind you. “Where are you running off to so fast? I thought we could catch up!”

You could feel Peter tense under you. A low growl came from under his mask. You had never heard Peter make that kind of noise before. It sounded deadly. Whoever this person was, they clearly had a long history.

“Don’t want to stop and chat? That’s fine. I’ll make you.” You watched as five black disks shot out of his hoverboard. They hurdled directly towards you and swirled in circles around Peter as he tried to swing you out of there. Thick, black smoke emitted out of the discs and surrounded you in a cloud. It crawled down your lungs and made it difficult to breath. You choked and sputtered on the smog. Even though Peter’s head was directly next to yours, you couldn’t see anything but the smoke. It had completely blinded you. If you couldn’t see, you were sure Peter wouldn’t be able to see where he was going either. He stopped his swinging and hung still in the air. You felt his hand tugging at the back of your sweater.

"Gotta-” Peter’s voice was hoarse as he choked on the smoke. “-put you down. While he can’t see us. Then you run. Fast and far away.”

He dangled in place high up in the air and pulled you away from his body. A web attached to your chest and you descended downwards away from him. You couldn’t see how far the street below you was. You just hoped your feet would touch something solid soon. You didn’t like being suspended in the air like this.

Half way down the cloud of smoke abruptly disappeared. The discs were called back to the man’s hoverboard. He had a terrible smile on his face as he watched Peter trying to desperately get you to the ground as quickly as possible. You weren’t far now. He was lowering you as fast as he could. So close. There was only about ten feet left to go. Closer now. Almost there.

The man pulled something off the green armor he was wearing and tossed it at the web attached to you. It spun through the air and sliced cleanly through the web, breaking it in half. There was no time to think. You felt your stomach drop as you fell.

The scream that came out of Peter was like nothing you had ever heard before. The hurt, rage, and pain behind it filled your ears. It was the last thing you heard before your head bounced off the concrete.

---

Someone was laughing a terrible and cruel laugh.

“Remind you of anyone?” You heard their voice call out. It sounded far away and echo-y. You struggled to open your eyes. Blurry sunlight blinded your vision. You squeezed them shut again.

“How many girlfriends of yours am I going to kill, Peter? It’s becoming a tradition at this point.”

You had no idea how badly you were injured. By the time the web was cut, you weren’t that far from the ground but you had landed on solid concrete. You slowly tried to wiggle your toes in your boots. Then your fingers. At least you could still move them.

“I should have killed you a long time ago, Harry.”

That was Peter’s voice. Only it didn’t sound like his usual self. His voice was dark and low. You struggled to open your eyes again. You were staring up at the deep blue sky. There were no clouds. It would have been a perfect winter afternoon on any other day.

The sounds of fighting filled your ears. You desperately wanted to move your head to see what was going on but your body felt like it was filled with sand. Olivia’s face floated into your memory. Panic filled you. You still had to get to her. You had to make yourself move.

You tried to focus on your breathing. Connect yourself to your body. You’d wiggle your fingers. Then slowly inch your arm closer to your side. Then the other one. Your toes came next. Your foot twitched and your legs sluggishly bent at the knee then extended again. You tried to get your arms into a position where you could push your body off the ground. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t get up by yourself. You needed Peter.

Carefully, you turned your head to the side. Sharp pain shot through your brain. A horrid migraine washed over you. The overwhelming pain stopped you in your tracks and you squeezed your eyes shut. You could still here the vicious sounds of whatever Peter and that guy were doing. Harry, you think you heard Peter call him. It sounded like they were fighting for their lives a few feet from you. There were snarls and yelling. An explosion. Swears. Metal scraping. Something crashing into a wall. A car alarm. More snarling. Like two lions fighting to the death.

You tried to move your head again. The sunlight hurt your eyes. With your head tilted to the side, you could see a little bit of what was going on. It looked like there were two Peter’s hanging off Harry’s hoverboard, trying climb up to reach him. You rubbed your eyes. You were seeing double. You tried to focus your vision.

You watched as Peter managed to claw his way up onto the board with Harry. They wrestled with each other. The hoverboard wove violently through the air as they lost control. A glint of a knife in the sunlight reflected into your eyes. It slashed at Peter’s head. His mask was ripped open and blood spilled down his half exposed face. Even through your blurry vision, you could see the look of death glaring out of Peter’s eyes. He wasn’t messing around. He wanted Harry dead.

You needed Peter to end this fight quickly. You needed him to get Liv.

Thankfully, he gained the upper hand. He managed to dislodge Harry from the board and lift him up over his head. You knew Spider-Man was strong but seeing him lift a grown man with such ease was impressive. Peter threw Harry through the air with a loud, angry yell.

Harry’s body was tossed towards you. He skid across the ground until he was just within arms length. You heard him laughing, unfazed by what had just happened. Peter jumped off the hoverboard, catching it with a web, and threw it into the ground with such force that it became embedded into the concrete.

Harry sat up and tried to push himself back onto his feet.

If Peter wasn’t going to end the fight, you would. You reached into your pocket for the Cryo Cube you had been given earlier. As Harry sat up, you threw the ball out of your hand and hit him square in the back. In a blink of an eye, his body iced over. He fell to the side with a loud crack and remained motionless, frozen in time.

Peter watched what happened. His eyes were wild and his mouth twisted into a savage smile. This wasn’t the Peter you knew. He was lost in his rage. He jogged over to Harry, pulled his fist back, and punched his frozen body so hard that the sound echoed off the buildings. His body shattered into hundreds of icy pieces and scattered across the ground.

“That was for Gwen, you fucker,” he growled.

You let out a breath of air and slumped back down, closing your eyes. That little energy you exerted was enough to completely drain you. Your body had been through too much today. You weren’t sure if you would even be able to stand.

“Lucy!”

Peter rushed over to you. You felt him kneel by your side. You forced your eyes back open. His worried face wavered in front of you. Everything was still blurry. You saw the murderous anger wash away from his features as he looked down at you. His entire body seemed to relax the moment he grabbed your hands in his and held it tight in his grasp.

“Sup,” you croaked out.

A laugh sob bubbled out of him. There was a hint of relief mixed with his pained expression, “You’re alive.”

“You told me I wasn’t allowed to die, remember?” You lifted your heavy arm to your head and used it to block out the sunlight. Your headache was causing strain on your eyes. “I don’t think my brain enjoyed hitting the concrete though.”

Peter’s chest was rising and falling with heavy panting. There was a nasty cut running from the side of his temple all the way down to his jaw from where the knife had slashed him. You could only see half of his face. It was still enough to get a good sense of what he was feeling. Peter was never any good at hiding his emotions. He wore his heartache on his sleeve.

“I didn’t mean any of what I said earlier, Pete.” You had to apologize. The blatant concussion you had seemed to override any sense of pride and stubbornness. “This isn’t your fault. None of it is. These terrible people would still exist even without you. You balance out the scales. You give people hope. You make things better. New York City is nothing without Peter Parker.”

Tears pooled in his visible eye. They rolled down his cheek, mixing into the blood, dirt, and sweat. You could tell he was just happy that you were talking to him and that you were alive. He gave you a sad smile, “You sound like someone I used to know.”

“She must have been a pretty smart lady then,” you had a feeling you knew who he was talking about. It made your heart ache to think about the pain Peter must have gone through to get to where he was today. He had lost so much.

Peter nodded, “She was.” He placed a hand on your forehead. “Can you move?”

You sighed, “I better be able to. We have to go save Liv. Can you help me up?”

He slipped his hand under the back of your head. You winced. Your skull felt tender. Carefully, he hoisted you into a sitting position. The moment you were upright, a dizzy spell hit you. You slumped against Peter’s side. He quickly wrapped his arms around you and held you up.

“I don’t know, Lucy. I know you’re going to reject this idea immediately but I really think I need to bring you to the hospital.”

You opened your eyes and gave him a look, “I need to go to the hospital? You’re the one who got a knife to the face.”

“And you’re the one who survived a flash flood and then cracked her head open on the pavement,” he gave you the look right back.

"Clearly we both need to go to the hospital but now is not the time for that. We need to get to Olivia,” you tried to stand up. You only got about half way to your feet before your legs gave out and you fell back into Peter’s arms.

He helped you back into a standing position and wrapped his arms around your waist to keep you up. You could tell he wasn’t happy. “Let me go get her by myself. I can do it. I promise I’ll bring her back to you safely. Please.”

You turned in his arms and pressed your forehead to his, “I love you, Peter. I don’t doubt you for a second when you say that you’ll get her out of there alive.” You gave a big sigh and closed your eyes. “I just need to see her. I need to see him. I need to be there. She’s going to need me for emotional support. Not you. She’s a little girl and she’s terrified. It has to be me. Okay?”

“Okay. Then I’ll keep you both safe.”

You smiled and pressed a quick kiss to his lips, “I know you will.”

---

The warehouse wasn’t far from where you left the frozen, broken into pieces Harry. Peter made sure you agreed to his terms to bringing you along. You had to stay quiet and out of the way. He would handle everything. When it was safe then you were allowed to come in and get Olivia. Before then, all you had to do was not get in the way. He would find a safe spot for you and that’s where you were to stay.

You felt a bit like a child being scolded but you agreed as long as it would bring you closer to your sister. Peter was the fighter, not you. You’d try to listen to him this time.

He quietly dropped you off behind the warehouse. It was big, rundown brick building. Large windows ran the length of the upper walls. They were covered by industrial metal bars. Most of the glass had fallen out over time. Peter lowered you into a patch of tall grass that gathered around the edges of the wall.

“I’m going to check it out,” he whispered. “Don’t move. I’ll come back and tell you what I see before I do anything.”

Panic settled on your skin, “Peter, whatever happens in there, your job is to save Olivia. That’s it. You get her out safely. No matter what.”

He nodded and gave you a quick smile, “She’ll be okay, Luce. I’ll get her.”

With that, he crawled up the wall and around the corner away from you. You were left in silence. You couldn’t hear anything behind the brick walls. Your headache felt like it was splitting your skull in two. You had to sit down. Nothing in your body felt right. You felt dizzy and sick. You rested your back against the wall and waited. It only took a minute for Peter to show up again.

He peeked his head around the corner next to you and whispered, “I can see eight guys in there. They’re armed and have a van. They’re talking about making their move soon. I couldn’t see Liv but there’s a back room. Someone is keeping guard by the door. My guess is that’s where they’re keeping her.”

You nodded and struggled back to your feet, “What’s your plan?”

“I’m going to try and keep those guys as far away from that room as possible. I’ll contain them. They’re just some assholes with guns. I’ve handled much worse. This shouldn’t be too bad.”

“Those are some famous last words before things become too bad,” your stomach was starting to hurt. “Where’s the back room?”

“Somewhere along this wall,” Peter answered hastily while already prepping to turn around and enter the building. “Stay here.”

He left you alone again.

You looked along the wall you were standing against. Your heart was beating fast. Olivia was just on the other side of these bricks. You eyes traveled along the length of the wall and spotted a small window a little ways to your right. It was too high up for you to see inside from the ground but if you stood on something, you might be able to peek inside.

There were some wooden crates stacked up near by. One of them would be the perfect height for the boost you’d need to see. You silently thanked the universe that the box wasn’t filled with anything. It was easy to push against the wall. You climbed on top and pulled yourself up.

The glass was smudged and caked in dirt. You could hardly even see through it. You had to use your sweater sleeve to wipe away enough grime for you to get a look.

Inside was a small room. It was mostly empty except for an old desk, a wooden chair, and some yellowed papers scattered on the ground. None of that was important though because huddled in the corner of the room was Olivia. Her hands were tied together with some type of cord and there was a gag stuffed into her mouth. Her cheeks were stained with tears. Her hair was a mess. She looked petrified. Your heart surged at the sight of her.

If the window wasn’t so small, you would have crawled in there and scooped her up. You wedged your finger nails between the window and the frame in an attempt to pull it open. It made a terrible squeaking noise as it unwedged itself out towards you. Luckily, the sound was covered by a sudden flurry of gun shots. Peter must have finally made his entrance.

Olivia jumped and gave a muffled scream as the sound of the guns. She tried to cover her ears but her hands were bound. She looked so small and scared.

“Olivia!” You called out to her. You doubted anyone other than her would hear as they all seemed very preoccupied with trying to take down Spider-Man on the other side of the wall.

Her head jerked up towards you. Her eyes widened and flooded with relief. She tried to say something into the gag.

You shushed her, “I need you get up and push the chair over to the window. I think I can pull you through.”

You might not be able to fit through the window but she would. Olivia shook her head and glanced nervously towards the door. You followed her eyes. The door burst open. You caught a quick glimpse of your father’s face before a web shot out and pulled him backwards. Another web landed on the door handle and slammed it shut again.

You breathed a sigh of relief, trying not to be too shaken up by the sight of your father, “It’s okay, Liv! Spider-Man is out there. He’s not going to let anyone get into this room. You have to move fast though. Go get the chair.”

At this point, you were more scared of a stray bullet hitting her. You needed to get her out as quickly as possible, “I need you to be really brave right now. This is important. Go get the chair, Olivia.”

The serious tone in your voice must have gotten through to her because she stumbled up onto her feet. She dragged the chair across the room and climbed up. You reached your hands into the window and slipped them under her armpits. Just touching her again was enough to make tears burn in your eyes.

“I got you, baby. Lift your hands up,” you grunted as you pulled her out of the window. Your casted arm screamed in pain under her weight but you swallowed the agony. This was it. Her body came tumbling out of the window and the two of you fell backwards off the box. You hit the ground and pulled her on top of you.

You wrapped your arms around her and held her tightly. Your hands ran over her head and down her back, touching every part of her that you could while she buried her face into your chest. You were both sobbing.

“I love you. I love you. I love you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you kept muttering over and over again to her.

Pull yourself together. She still wasn’t safe until you got her out of this area.

You sat up and pulled her into your lap. The first thing you did was remove the gag from her mouth. She burst into loud tears and you had to cover her mouth with your hand.

“Shh, baby. I know, I know. It’s okay. You have to be quiet though. I’m going to get you home really soon,” you worked at untying her bound hands.

The second they were free, she threw her arms around your neck.

“I got you, Liv. Let’s go.” You somehow managed to get to your feet while holding her. It must have been the adrenaline coursing through your veins because you could hardly stand otherwise.

You had only taken two stumbled steps away from the warehouse when you heard the distinct sound of a handgun cocking. Olivia whimpered and hid her head against your shoulder.

“He’s back,” she whispered.

You froze. You didn’t have to turn around to know it was your father. There was a stench of thick cigarette smoke and sweat wafting off of him. You remembered that smell from your childhood. You used to smell it in your dreams and wake up screaming. Slowly, you dropped Olivia to her feet and tucked her behind your back as you turned to face the man you hated most in this world.

He smiled when he saw you. His teeth were yellowed and rotted. His hair was longer than your remembered and he had a scraggly, old beard now. His arms were covered in tattoos he didn’t have before being sent to prison. A gun was pointed directly at your head.

“Look at this. My two girls back with me again. My little LucyLu is all grown up,” he sneered at you. “I remember when you were that kid’s age.”

The fucker didn’t even remember Olivia’s name. You shouldn’t be surprised. He was already locked up by the time she was born.

“You used to beg me to bring you home a Slurpee from the 7 Eleven after work. Blue Raspberry. Your whole mouth would turn blue and you’d get this big rush of energy.” He chuckled to himself. “Your mother would always bitch at me for giving you a sugar high right before bed.”

You didn’t recall any of this. None of your memories of him were good. Clearly, you two had very different outlooks on your childhood. You stayed silent and kept Liv pressed tightly to your back, out of his view.

“I need you to do something for me, Lu. I’m not going back to that place. I’m getting out of the city. I’m starting over. You and the kid are my ticket out of here. Your going to need to come with me.”

You shook your head. You were tired of being told what to do. You were tired of feeling weak. You were Lucy Miller and you were sister’s protector. No one was going anywhere with this man from this moment onward, “We’re not going anywhere with you. I’m tired of being pushed around by people who think they’re better than me just because they have something they can hold over my head. I’m sick of fucking bosses and shitty clients and men with freakish abilities who want to spread nothing but evil! I’m not weaker than you just because you have a gun!”

You felt your own anger rise in your chest. You hated him. You hated what he put Olivia through. You hated what he had put your mother through. And you hated what he had put you through. You were a broken adult because of his actions. There was no way you were going to let him hurt you or your family anymore.

Just over your father’s shoulder you caught of glimpse of red and blue peeking out from behind the wall of the warehouse. Peter heard you. He knew you were here. A sense of focused peace washed over you. Somehow, you knew everything would be okay. A smile twitched at your lips.

Your father stepped closer to you and pressed the gun directly to your forehead, “This isn’t a joke, kid. I’m your fucking father and you’ll do what I say. I’m the one with the bullets.”

“And I’m the one with a Spider-Man,” You used your heavy cast to knock his arm away from your head. The gun went off and shot directly into the ground. Olivia yelped. Before he could even fully comprehend what you had done, you raised your boot and kicked him as hard as you could between the legs.

You father bent over and stumbled backwards with a loud grunt. He tried to compose himself. He tried to raise the gun to you again but a web shot out and hit him directly in the back of the head.

It wasn’t Peter’s usual web. The thin line was racing and sparking with blue, buzzing electricity. It was the special one he had made just for Hydro. The second it made contact with your father, his entire body went ridged then started jerking uncontrollably. Black marks appeared over his skin. You could smell burning flesh as his intestines cooked inside of him. His hair stood on end and his eyes were huge. Foamy drool pooled around his lips and soaked into his beard. After a second of watching his erratic movements under the pulsating electricity, his body went limp and he crumpled to the ground.

The air was filled with silence.

You kept Olivia hidden behind you. She didn’t need to see the burned corpse of her criminal father splayed out in front of her.

Peter emerged from behind the building. He tugged off what was left of his shredded mask and toss it to the ground. He walked straight towards you and pulled you into a hug. His hand reached behind you and kept it on top of Olivia’s head, making sure her sight stayed on your back and no where else. It was like he could read your mind. He kissed you softly.

“Is it over?” You asked.

You watched him nod with a small smile, “It’s over.”

---

[TWO DAYS LATER]

“So, Spider-Man is really that man we met on the way to school?”

Olivia sat cross legged on the end of your hospital bed. She ate your cherry jello as she talked.

You nodded to her. Your head had been wrapped up in bandages. Your forehead had been stitched up, the back of your skull had been fractured, and you suffered a terrible concussion from the fall. That’s not to mention the infection you got from swallowing all that dirty water Hyrdo had flooded you with and the internal bleeding you received from being slammed into a pole. You were lucky to be alive, the doctors had told you. You knew it wasn’t luck that saved you. It was Peter.

“Yes. His name is Peter,” you replied.

“Are you sure?” She asked. She seemed skeptical. “Spider-Man seems too cool to be a Peter.”

You heard a laugh from the doorway. The two of you turned to see Peter standing there. He had a bouquet of daisies in his hand.

“Sorry to disappoint you, Liv.” He made his way over to you and placed a light kiss on your lips. You saw Olivia scrunch up her nose in disgust from the corner of your eye.

“How are you feeling?” He asked while putting the flowers on your bedside table. He plucked one off and handed it to Liv. She blushed when she took it and tucked it behind her ear.

“I’m feeling like I can’t wait to be back in my own bed. They told me I have to wait one more night,” you sighed. Thankfully, the hospital let you keep Olivia with you. She had been sleeping tucked safely in your arms every night. You would have refused to stay if they hadn’t let her.

“Everything is starting to clear up out there. The police have the majority of the criminals back behind bars. I think it should be back to usual business again really soon.” He pulled up a chair and sat down beside your bed. The knife wound down the side of his face was already healing into a red scar. He’d recover much quickly from his injuries than you would. “I was thinking, that when you get better, maybe I could take you on a date? A real, normal date. One where I pay for your dinner and we get to have uninterrupted time together without the threat of serious bodily harm hanging over our heads.”

A soft smile flashed on your lips, “Can Peter Parker even handle a normal date?”

He matched your smile with one of your own, “I promise I can.”

“Pinky promise?” You held out your pinky for him.

He linked fingers with you, “Pinky promise.”

Olivia giggled from the end of the bed, “I told you. You’re going to marry Spider-Man!”

The two of you broke out into laughter. Your eyes locked with Peter’s. Your heart surged with love for him.

No matter what the future held, you just hoped he was a part of it.

#tasm #tasm fic #tasm!peter #tasm x reader #tasm!peter parker #peter parker #peter parker fic #peter parker x reader #peter parker x oc #the amazing spiderman #spiderman #the amazing spiderman fic #spiderman fic #andrew garfield #pinky promise #tasm chapter ten

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