#just got hit with some serious sad nostalgia Emotions

[favvnsongs]

getting into rvb is so funny you read all the meta, all the emotional posts, see all the fanart, maybe get a bit spoiled then you watch the first episode and your like.....this is it??! this is the show youre all going nuts over!!?? that cannot be correct, this is shitty machinima made in some dudes basement, and then 10 seasons later ur crying into ur pasta because the of worlds worst wife guy made an ai and it got sad.

me, thinking bout rvb tbh ;__;

no but like this isn't inaccurate lmfao. the first block of the story (s1-5) are so hit or miss for people. it truly is just some dudes fucking around in their basement. and it's hard to recommend bc like. everything About it is just some guys fucking around in their basement. it's very early '00s humor and without the benefit of nostalgia goggles (im pretty sure I first watched it in middle school?? '07 or so maybe??) it's reasonable for people to have that 'what..what the fuck is this' reaction to it

I forget who initially made this meme but it really is Like That lmfao. the sudden pivot into 'oh okay this is actually serious and part of a larger story than dudes dicking around in a canyon' and tbh I think once you get to season six and beyond, the first five become much easier to get through? because it's all laying the groundwork for characters and foreshadowing and junk.

and yeah like!!! it all comes down to the worlds worst wifeguy causing so much pain and trauma and suffering because he couldn't cope with the dead of his wife. like excuse me dr loser mcdeadwife, you still have a whole entire kid who needs you!! now look at her! jfc!

(don't even get me started on the fragments and the freelancers and asdfghjkl like. I think the sheer misery and drama and angst in the back half of the series - lmao for me rvb ended with s13 - makes the first five seasons all the more lightheartedly enjoyable)

Anyways♡

#rvb nonsense #nonny bestie drop into the dms im always so excited to talk about this fucking show

[snackleggg]

City of splintering hopes: Chapter 4 "Meda-Lean"

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Ao3

~~~

When Danny came out the other side of the cave, back into the Far Frozen, he turned around to confirm yep the bird robot is still following me.

"So why exactly has keeping me safe been 'added as your top objective'?" Danny asked, using air quotes when referencing what the robot had said earlier.

"Because you are a Halfa" It replied. Danny actually paused at that.

He turned around and started making the trek back to the yeti civilisation in the Far Frozen, following the route that Frostbite had led him through.

"Okay but I wasn't born a Halfa. I'm not a citizen of that city or even related to those Halfas in anyway so why did you activate?" Danny asked.

He heard the crunching of snow behind him stop and he also came to a stop to look behind him at the robot. It had it's head tilted to the side again, seemingly a common gesture for it when it was thinking or maybe confused?

"It does not matter if you were not born a Halfa. What matters is you are one now and that was proven by the activation once you stepped into the Hall of the Ancients" It stated and Danny could tell by it's abrupt blink that he was making a face because he did not understand half the things that just- well not 'came out of it's mouth', it didn't have a mouth but that last sentence definitely had him confused beyond all belief.

"Wat" Danny said "Hall of the what now? Activation? What are you talking about?"

"The Hall of the Ancients is the name of the structure atop the capital." It explained "The automatic pairing system was activated by your presence as it sensed you had not been assigned a droid and therefore assigned me to you" the robot finished and Danny needed a second to take all that in.

Instead of facing everything that sentence implied Danny turned back around and continued walking. He soon heard the crunching of snow behind him signalling that the robot bird was following.

"So... it only turned on because it sensed I was a Halfa?" Danny asked after a brief silence.

"Correct. All Halfas are assigned droids to assist and protect them in their everyday lives, especially those who travel outside of the Hidden lands" It explained and Danny was trying to wrap his mind around it. More questions suddenly started popping up into his mind, thankfully he finally had someone who seemed to know what they were talking about.

For some reason Danny felt relieved. The automatic system that the original Halfas left behind had recognised him as a Halfa and that made him feel very validated.

"Why'd it choose you?" Danny asked after briefly mulling over the question. He had seen many of those statues in the alcoves in the walls and there had probably been more he hadn't seen deeper inside the building. So why was this specific droid chosen for him?

"Each droid has a unique personality of sorts, unique responses to certain situations and when you stepped into the building it scanned your core and automatically found the droid best suited to serve and protect you" It replied.

"So there are just a bunch of pre-made droids laying around waiting to be assigned?" Danny asked, he couldn't help the sadness that tainted his voice. Those droids would probably never be activated, Danny sure as hell wasn't letting Vlad get his grubby little hands on one. He shuddered at the very thought of Vlad knowing about the ruins.

"Incorrect" It informed him "Halfa children typically have droids created and assigned for them at the age of 10. All droids in the Hall of the Ancients had already been created and assigned to a Halfa at some point and were all once active. Including myself." the robot said, there was something in it's voice but Danny couldn't place his finger on it.

"Wait so.... how long have you been deactivated for?" He asked.

"It has been roughly 247 years since I was last active" It replied, that strange tone in it's voice again.

"And that was when...." He could piece together what that meant but the droid answered him anyway.

"When Pariah Dark was launching his attack on the Halfas" Danny suddenly recognised the emotion in it's voice. Grief. Sadness. Hesitancy.

Even if it was a robot Danny could only imagine what it was like. Then another thought hit him and he stopped again in his tracks on the path. But only for a moment before he continued. He could sense the robot's worried gaze but Danny wasn't going to bring up what had caused him to stop. He didn't even want to look back at the droid.

Danny couldn't bring himself to ask more questions, not yet. Maybe another time when his core wasn't clenching in sympathy for the droid.

They walked in silence, every once in a while Danny looked back at the robot bird to see it was seemingly surveying it's surroundings. Danny thought back to how he had scanned the landscape around him when he had come through here with Frostbite and he bit back a laugh at the similarity. It didn't take long before the droid snapped it's attention back to him whenever it noticed him glancing.

Finally they made it back to landscape and terrain Danny was familiar with and it wasn't long before Frostbite popped out and greeted him.

"Great One! You have returned!" Frostbite exclaimed and then he took notice of the new face following behind Danny but instead of any number of reactions Danny had expected Frostbite just glanced at it with something akin to nostalgia in his eyes before diverting his attention back to Danny.

"You're injured!" Frostbite shouted, finally taking noticed of his broken nose. The blood, having dried up ages ago, now looked a muddy brown and felt flaky against Danny's skin.

"Yeah, I had a bit of a crash" Danny said, straining the last word as he glanced at the robot bird that simply blinked back at him.

"Come, let's get you fixed up then before your travel home" Frostbite insisted, ushering him towards the yeti tribe to get his nose fixed up.

Half an hour later and lots of assuring Frostbite that "I'm fine" "No, I don't have a concussion" "Yes, I will make sure to be careful to avoid faceplanting into anything", Danny was finally given the okay to go home but before he left he had one last thing to ask Frostbite.

"Frosty, why aren't you phased by the sudden stone robot bird following me around?" Danny asked, gesturing to said droid who was still hunched over as it stood behind him. Danny had noticed that the robot bird, while not hunching to the point of meeting his eye level anymore, was still not standing to it's full height. He also noticed that no one in the Far Frozen tribe batted an eye at the stone being.

"Oh! Sorry Great One, you must be confused by our lack of reaction! It's just these stone creatures always accompanied past Halfas. If anything we had been surprised when first meeting you that you did not have one. I had a feeling that you may gain one by visiting the sight of their origin" Frostbite replied thoughtfully, a paw held to his chin as he briefly examined the droid.

Danny felt his eye twitch slightly "And you didn't think to inform me that when entering the remains of a Halfa civilisation that some ancient automatic system would decide to give me some bodyguard assistant?" Danny asked, his tone becoming more hysterical as the absurdness of the situation sunk in.

"I apologise Great One. It had only crossed my mind after you had already entered the cave" Frostbite at least had the decency to look sheepish.

Danny took a deep breath before letting it out and giving a slightly strained smile "it's... okay. At least you didn't mean to leave out that semi important fact" He said.

Finally, finally! Danny started his flight home after one last goodbye to Frostbite. He also quickly discovered that bird like stone beings could apparently fly. The droid flew above Danny, stone wings spread and the occasional flap of them even though he was pretty sure that wasn't necessary but he wasn't about to rain all over the robot bird's parade.

Halfway home he realised that he will definitely not be able to explain a giant stone robot following him around to his parents.

"Hey uh... can you turn invisible?" Danny directed to the robot flying above him. The droid looked down at him, blinking once, before replying "Yes, I can but it is energy consuming so only for short periods of time"

"Cool cool cool coolcoolcoolcool, cause when we get to the portal you're gonna have to turn invisible so my parents don't see you" Danny said, a scenario of what would happen to the droid if his parents saw it played in his mind and he quickly shook it from his head.

"Portal? Are we travelling to the living realm?" The robot bird asked and Danny remembered that this was a robot two centuries and a half out of it's time. He would need to keep as close an eye on it as it was keeping on him.

"Yeah. I kind of live there but my parents don't really know about the whole being a Halfa thing so if you stay out of their sight I would really appreciate it. My sister Jazz is fine though, she knows" Danny dreaded having to explain this to Jazz. 'Hey Jazz! I went to the ancient ruins of the original Halfas like we talked about yesterday! I accidently triggered some automatic pairing system that gave me a robot bodyguard for the foreseeable future!' Yeah, that was not going to be a fun conversation.

"I will be mindful" The droid replied before they fell back into a comfortable silence.

Soon the Fenton ghost portal came into view and they both landed on the floating rock it was positioned on.

"Okay remember, invisible. I'll tell you when you can drop the invisibility. Just stay quiet and try not to touch anything" Danny said, making sure he got across how serious this was to the droid.

The robot bird nodded before disappearing from sight instantly.

Danny turned around and did the same, turning himself invisible as he walked through. He mildly panicked when the thought that the droid wouldn't be able to follow him crossed his mind but the feeling of three claw like stone fingers on his shoulder quickly got rid of those doubts.

As expected, his parents were working in the lab, focused intensely on their newest invention which of course was a blaster of some kind. Danny rolled his eyes, another weapon he would have to dodge.

As Danny walked through the lab it was unnerving to him how quiet the droid was managing to be. No heavy footsteps like when they had been walking through the Far Frozen and the cave. No sound of camera like clicking from blinking. The only indication Danny had that it was there were the cool stone fingers on his shoulder.

They made it up the stairs with out a single noise and as soon as they got through the doors Danny immediately dropped his invisibility.

"You can drop it now" He said when the droid didn't immediately follow his example. After the robot became visible again Danny moved around it to close the door to the lab and he sighed in relief.

Despite the fact that he had left in the morning it was evening now as Danny had spent roughly 7 and a half hours on his little side quest. He let the transformation back to his human form go over him and breathed a little in relief.

He saw in the corner of his eye the droid jerk back a bit and he turned to see it blinking repeatedly at him with that same clicking noise before suddenly stopping.

"Your clothes are different than in your other form" It stated.

"Yeah, what of it?" Danny asked as the droid stared at him, still hunched over but Danny was pretty sure it would hit it's head on the ceiling if it stood at it's full height.

"I am an information retrieval droid. Though my objectives have been updated for your safety as top priority I still must gather as much information as possible on everything around me" It stated. Danny made a mental note never to let it onto the internet unsupervised.

"Oh well, like I said earlier I wasn't born a Halfa. I kind of half died? Or maybe I died fully but was half brought back to life? Either way I died, whether half or fully, and those clothes were just the ones I died in" Danny shrugged.

The droid looked at him for another second before seemingly accepting that answer and turning it's attention to their surroundings.

"Right, if you're going to be following me around you should know the layout of the house" Danny said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. The droid nodded absentmindedly, Danny could see it's thin pupils moving around rapidly, trying to take in as much information about the surroundings as possible no doubt.

"Well this is the kitchen. We eat food in here but you don't have a mouth and are a robot so I don't think you'll find yourself in here too often. You already saw the lab, in the basement. Don't go down there unless I'm with you because my parents are down there like 70% of the time" Danny said as he gestured around and then to the door behind them.

Danny started moving into the living room and the droid followed him, he noted that the sound of it's heavy footsteps had returned.

"Living room, we'll pass through here alot to get to the front door so if my parents are ever in here you'll have to turn invisible and be quiet" Danny said, again making a sweeping motion with his arm to show the room. It was weird, he kind of felt like he was showing around a secret roommate.

They went up the stairs. Danny quickly explained that the droid should never ever follow him into the bathroom. An off handed comment to avoid his parents room and the stairs that led to the Ops center. He also pointed out Jazz's room before ending the tour with his own room.

"Since you insist on being around me all the time you'll be spending alot of time in here" Danny said after he closed the door to his room.

The droid was looking around with great interest, examining the books he had on his shelf and all the different space themed things scattered around his room. Danny felt a little embarrassed and could feel his face heating up even though he knew the robot was most likely analysing everything so it could get a better understanding of the Halfa it had been paired with.

Then a thought hit Danny.

"This might be an awkward question to ask now but uh-" the droid turned to face him as he fumbled with something he should've asked from the start "Do you um, have a name I could call you?" Danny asked. He was getting a little tired referring to it as 'the droid' and 'the robot bird' in his head.

"Why yes, you may call me Meda-Lean" They said and Danny blinked.

"Medalean? Or wait- Meda Lean" Danny corrected himself and Meda-Lean nodded.

"Can I call ya Meds for short? Y'know like a nickname?" Danny asked.

"Yes, you may call me 'Meds'." Meds confirmed and the way their eyes seemed to half close gave the impression that if they had a mouth they would be smiling.

----

A stone statue stood tall in a ravaged battlefield. The land was empty and quiet until suddenly the statue moved. The grey stone fell apart revealing a ghost. A rumour that the worlds, both the living and the dead, had forgotten.

The tall figure stood and stretched out two large metallic wings from his back, being careful not to jostle the bow and bag of arrows also resting on his back. Despite not needing to breath he took in a deep breath before releasing it as a loud sigh that echoed throughout the long abandoned battlefield.

"I smell Halfa"

~~~

First | Previous | Next

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I'll be tagging all content do to with this story with the tag City of splintering hopes so if guys want to you can follow the story easier. You can also use that tag for any questions or content you guys make of the story!

#danny phantom #city of splintering hopes #chapter 4 #danny fenton #Meda-Lean #dp frostbite #danny phantom fic #danny phantom au #my writing #dp fanfic #fanfic

[lyallblacklupin]

Don’t miss the Yule Ball.

Sirius finally opens up to James Potter, and he realizes a lot of things. He has decided he will go the yule ball, but the question is: with whom?

Tags: Post-Incident with Severus Snape, Angst with Happy Ending, Getting Back Together, Trust Issues.

Chapter 3

Sirius kept chewing his first bite for a little longer than he was supposed to, because Remus had left the Great Hall looking apprehensive, and gruesome. He sighed through his breakfast, waiting for the day to get by. He was pushing down all the unnecessary thoughts and emotions because he didn’t want to expect anything from anyone, especially how the last night had turned out.

He had woken up with a better feeling—if he had to be honest with himself—because Remus had finally not just smiled at him but hugged him with genuine earnest and he had held him until Sirius was done crying. The memory was painfully sweet in his head. Nevertheless, he was slightly hopeful than yesterday. Remus had always tried to bring the best out of him. The tug of war in his brain about his friendship and relationship with Remus was easing out in his mind, while also clenching his heart. He took another bite of his porridge, and thought that he should stop worrying about normalcy. He realized that wanting normal with this desperation was going to make him fall in the pits of agitation. He was not able to deal with another heartache. For once, he wanted to give his heart a break.

He gulped down his bite, and he decided he was going to the same with his desires and dreams. He was going to be grateful of the things he had in life; Good friends, miles away from his abusive parents, good education, and especially, his magic. He was himself because he knew how to kindle fire by the swipe of his fingers, he could wave his wand and conjure blue stardust while walking alone in the forest, and he could conjure a patronus to keep the sadness away for a while.

His thinking cycle came to a halt when James and Peter rushed to the hall, and haphazardly began swallowing their breakfast. Sirius was so captured seeing them not uttering a word and gulping down their teas and milk in one breath.

“Merlin, Pads—could have told us—“ James was managing to breathe while munching his toasts, debauching all the manners and etiquettes of eating by spraying the breadcrumbs everywhere on the table.

“Wow, Prongs, you really know how to eat.” Sirius laughed amusingly. Both of the Marauders glared at him. And once they were done, James said that they were already five minutes late for Transfiguration. This time Sirius didn’t think of manners at all, and stumbled out his seat as the three of them raced to the classroom. The air whooshed through them as they pushed through the crowd of students and teachers who shouted things like ‘Hey! Watch it!’ and ‘5 points from Gryffindor!’

The air smelled of nostalgia as Sirius felt the adrenaline in his blood and giddiness in his stomach. The three of them were running like they used to when Filch would catch them and they would hide in the broom cupboards for hours until the course were clear, and then they would laugh like maniacs. It felt all the same to Sirius when they reached the classroom, and he was getting breathless in the most satisfying way. The doors opened, stealing everyone’s attention. Mcgonacall had her usual glare, and Sirius spotted Remus sitting with Lily, his face looked scarlet which made Sirius feel the same heating flush beneath his cheeks and neck.

“Mr Potter, Mr Black and Mr Pettigrew, why is it always you three to be late in my class?” There was something different about Mcgonacall as her gaze is fixed at Sirius. He could swore that there was a hint of smile playing on her lips. She ordered them to take seats, and Peter sat with Mary while James with Sirius. The both of them had to keep hands on their mouths to suppress the bubbling laughter. James gave him a playful nudge, his eyes were whispering something meaningful, and Sirius felt a gush of affection for him.

The day went by with Double Transfiguration with the Slytherins, Charms with Ravenclaws, and Double History of Magic with the Hufflepuffs. James and Sirius were walking to the common room to put their books and notes and then return to the dinner with the rest of Marauders.

“So, Padfoot…” James smirked at him, “I have an unbelievable news to share with you.”

“Have you finally learn not to make a fool of yourself?” Sirius got a harsh fling of James’ arm around his shoulder that he staggered in his pace, almost collapsing on the floor but James held him firmly.

“Hey, hey, hey,” James’ voice was soaked with concern, “You okay? I’m sorry I didn’t know I was that harsh.”

“No, it was not harsh.” Sirius managed to say but the other didn’t seem convinced. He was getting some serious brain-fogs from the past few days, and he hadn’t told anyone yet, not even Madam Pomfrey.

“Then what was that, Sirius? What is going on? Are you not well?” Those were so many questions for Sirius to answer. He didn’t want to disrupt his day which was finally going better for the first time in forever. However with James’ big hazel eyes were staring at him like that as if they were saying hundreds of things to him he felt the urge to tell him everything—by everything meant everything.

And then they didn’t return for dinner, they were in their dorm alone with no interruption. Sirius told him how frequently he had been experiencing panic attacks, and how much tired he felt, like always, how he felt like his bones were feeble, and his muscles were aching, how he was also experiencing constant brain-fogs. And then, he also told him how he was dealing with emotional pain the most, how constantly he was thinking and trying to commit act of self-harm, and how much he was thinking how he had let the Marauders down. James listened him very carefully with full attention, nodded in the right places and shushed him when Sirius talked about how much he missed Remus. He was struggling to get louder because his voice was not cooperating with him. He was gushing out all of the emotions which were buried in the depths of him. He cried at some parts but he was calm because James’ hand was there squeezing his arm, and rubbing his back. When they were done, they fell into comfortable silence, and Sirius felt as light as a feather.

“So what was the good news?” Sirius said to break the silence.

“Uh…” James smiled weakly at him, “I asked Evans to go with to the ball as my date and she said yes.”

Sirius smiled at him genuinely, “I’m happy for you, Prongs.” He hit him with a playful punch but James didn’t respond too much. He looked sad, and it was awkward. Sirius never wanted that. They fell into another round of silence before he felt two arms wrapped from his behind, tugging there. Sirius put his hands on James’, sitting under the cloud of melancholy.

“I’m sorry, Padfoot. You were keeping a lot inside of you. I don’t like when you do that.” Sirius smiled warmly at his mildly aggressive voice, “I am your brother, and you are supposed to tell me that. And all of that. Everything, buddy. I love you, you know that right?”

“There is no reason to be a sap, Potter.” Sirius elbowed him, “But yeah, and I love you, too. Always have and always will.”

“Look, who’s a bigger sap now.”

“Okay, Evans said yes—“ Sirius pulled away to face him, but he was cut off by James in mid-sentence.

“For the ball. I don’t want to get my hopes up.”

“Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”

James didn’t smile. There was still something despondent about him. After a brief silence, he said, “Pads, this may sound a little weird but hear me out…” Sirius nodded, “You should ask Moony for tomorrow.”

“Oh no, no, no, no,”

“Why!?” James whined.

“’Why’? What do you mean ‘why’? Out of all people, you should not be the one to say that.”

“No, Padfoot, I should be the person to say that! You told me how he encouraged to go to the ball. I mean, why would he? Either he is trying to be your mom and asking you to have fun or he is giving signals for you to ask him to be your date for the ball!”

“Considering Remus, he was definitely being a mother-hen.” 

“Think about it, Moony doesn’t easily like someone. He never dated anyone except you because you are the one he fell in love with, you tosser!

That’s when the door swung open, revealing Remus and Peter which confused looks. Sirius felt like his heart was in his throat.

“Thought we’d find you guys here.” Peter said, throwing his satchel on his bed, “Why did you miss dinner?”

“Oh, we completely lost track of time.” Sirius said successfully because the room had started to feel small with Remus’ presence, “We should go to the kitchen, Prongs.” He was hoping he could just skip the anxiety and continue his chance of talking out with James more. He was talking after ages, and it felt lighter and easy. Suddenly, he was very grateful for having James Potter in his life.

“Oh, you know what, you stay here. Wormy and I will bring food for you.” James piped up with his stupid grin, and Sirius began to have second thoughts on being grateful of James.

“What!?” Peter retorted, “But I just came back!”

“And you could come back again, my best friend Wormy!” Sirius scowled at James who in returned gave him a thumbs-up, gesturing to talk to Remus who was putting down his books in on his nightstand. Soon, the whiny Peter and an overly-smart James were out of the dorm, leaving him and Remus alone.

Sirius was fidgeting with his fingers anxiously, gazing at Remus’ back.

“I can feel you staring at me.” Sirius thought he was completely frozen. Remus turned to face him, smiling small at him.

“Yeah…” Sirius let out a breathless chuckle, “I was just…”

Awkward silence.

“Remus, I wanted to ask you something and if you don’t think the same way, I would completely understand.” His heart was hammering in his chest. Remus nodded at him. He took a deep breath and finally the words were out, “Will you go to the ball with me as my date?”

Extremely awkward silence. Remus was opening and closing his mouth to say something but no words were audible enough as an answer to Sirius. That’s because he doesn’t have any answer, Sirius thought to himself.

“Sirius…” Remus finally said, “I can’t.”

It wasn’t like Sirius wasn’t expecting this, but it still hurt him like a dagger shot right into his heart.

“I mean…” Remus continued, scratching the back on his head or pulling his sleeve, “it’s not like I don’t want to, because I do…A lot, actually…”

His voice was turning croaky, and Sirius was able to see that it was not easy for Remus either.

“But, I already have a date.” This time it hurt more than earlier. Sirius wanted to laugh, and he did. Remus froze, looking dumbfounded. It was a strange thing that hurting not always accompany the act of shedding tears. Sirius was actually laughing at himself that he was a fool to believe, like actually believe.

“Of course, of course,” Sirius wiped the tears in the corner of his eyes, “Of course, you have a date. How can you not?” He was shaking his head, still unable to control his laugh. It was a very wrong judgment.

Chapter 1  Chapter 2

Chapter 4 coming soon!

#wolfstar #Wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar angst #WOLFSTAR FLUFF #angst with happy ending #James Potter #Lily Evans #james and lily #james and sirius #james x lily #peter pettigrew #remus and lily #remus x sirius #Sirius x Remus #SIRIUSxREMUS #Remus John Lupin #Sirius Black #hp marauders #Harry Potter #hogwarts

[personasintro]

blue side | jhs drabble

⏤𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴; you see your ex at your friend's wedding, awakening some feelings at the simple sight of him

⏤𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨; hoseok x reader

⏤𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: fluff, little bit of angst, exes to lovers au

⏤𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 4.3k

⏤𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: strong language, mentions of sex

𝘢/𝘯: requested, I came to the conclusion that I can't write short drabbles they always get longer than I want them to be

It’s unfair how effortlessly beautiful and charismatic he looks.

Two years is a long time since you’ve personally seen him, even though you got a brief glimpse into his life through stalking his social media. In your defense, it’s only occasional whenever you feel weak and curious about his life. Fair to say, it’s not something you’re proud of.

Fortunately, your ex-boyfriend keeps his Instagram account public, which makes it easier for you to look through his profile every now and then. He keeps most of his life private, even though his account is public, but he still shares a fair amount of pictures which describes his personality. Most of them are pictures of food, him in the distance where you can barely make out his face and a few snaps of the sky. Personally, the picture of his hand holding a cup of coffee with his name written on it, is your favorite. The silver watch and veins disappearing underneath, what seems like an elegant shirt, has something to do with it.

From what you remember, he doesn’t post often, sometimes goes even three months without posting anything. It sounds creepy, but you’re sure most exes do shit like this.

And you haven’t stalked his Instagram, or any social media, ever since you found out he’s going to your friend’s wedding. It’s understandable. It’s your mutual friend who invited you both, little did you know Hoseok would bring his ass from Japan back to South Korea. You’re just being bitter, of course he’d come to Namjoon’s wedding. But considering Japan and the work offer that broke your relationship was so important to him, the thought of him actually coming here never crossed your mind.

It kind of hurts that he came to Namjoon’s wedding, left his precious Japan, but couldn’t do the same thing for your relationship. No matter how many times you’ve told yourself not to think about it, you just couldn’t but feel anger boiling inside of you. Or maybe it’s the sight of him, noticing how freaking good he looks in suits. His hair seems to be darker than the light brown he was sporting when he broke your heart. He’s glowing, his eyes crinkling exactly the way you remember, showing a full set of teeth as he quickly covers his mouth before his loud voice erupts in the ballroom. His face seems to be chubbier, not in a bad way though. He looks healthy, another thing that irritates you, even though your brain screams at you.

It’s been two years.

Of course he moved on and lives his life.

What have you expected? Him looking miserable?

Yet, you don’t feel any hatred towards him. Yes, he’s someone who’s painful to watch, especially when it brings all the months of trying to put yourself together right back. However, you haven’t been living badly. It’s not like your whole world revolved around him, even though he was the only man you truly ever loved. Deep down, you know he’s not a bad person. It’s just the pain of knowing he chose a carrier life instead of you. That’s what hurts to this day.

And when somehow, your group of friends pushes you to the circle of his, there’s no escape other than to be met with him face to face. During the actual ceremony, you sat far away to even notice him, even though you tried extremely hard to stare at the bride and groom. But now, when your eyes glance at his own, you find him already staring at you. A very cautious greeting leaves his mouth first, as the true gentlemen he always presented himself as, and a very dry greeting comes out of you before you can even try to fake a certain kind of politeness.

Before the atmosphere could become any more awkward, one of your friends starts to chat, gaining everyone else’s attention. They all catch up, as you silently pray for them not to ask you a question about your life. The last thing you want to do is to share it with Hoseok. It’s not like you’re ashamed of your life, or care too much about what he thinks and if he knows about it, but it feels uncomfortable.

Silently sipping on the pink champagne is a better idea, while you politely listen to anyone that’s talking, giggling when it’s needed but your mind drifts elsewhere. With each sound Hoseok’s mouth makes, is like a wave of nostalgia and nausea hitting you at the same time. He affects you and your heart, despite of those two years of not having him in your life, like it never happened.

“How’s work, Hoseok-ah? I’ve heard you got promoted. Congrats man!” Taehyung, one of Hoseok’s friends, speaks up sipping from his own champagne as he gently slaps his shoulder in a praise.

Hoseok’s lips stretch into a wide smile, looking down into his almost full glass, something you recognize as a hidden shyness. He has always felt shy as soon as someone complimented him for his hard work. Despite of his reaction, he has felt a huge appreciation to whoever gave him a few words of praise or encouragement. He’s just too hard on himself, well, he used to be. It’s not like you know him. A lot can change in two years. Even peoole can.

“Thanks,” he scrunches his nose, before he grins at Taehyung. “I got promoted just last week.”

He gets a round of happy gasps, another set of praise words which you just ignore by gulping all of your champagne. Maybe you should be less obvious, but you don’t really care. You can’t look at him, not when the topic of discussion reminds you of everything the two of you experienced together. You’re not a bitch. You don’t wish him to be sad and fail all of his dreams and achievements he has set for himself. But you’re also a living person, a human who’s not perfect with real emotions, and you do feel a sour emotion in your chest when you hear them talking.

For all you know, he might be over the moon that he got rid of you. In a way, you were just an obstacle that stood right between his dreams. You just thought three years of dating would’ve been more valuable to him. Maybe that’s what hurts the most.

“Wow,” you speak up, not even regretting it as you feel all the eyes on you, including his. “Congrats, Japan must be treating you right.”

It’s the damn champagne, the third glass you had and should’ve declined when that goddamn waiter offered it, that’s making you so blunt and outspoken. By the way Hoseok eyes you, he probably knows that by now. He’s watching you, and this time you don’t budge your eyes from his, stubbornly staring right back at him.

“What city was it?” The city you left me for. “Noho?” you ask with a fake interest, tilting your head to express it even more.

If not all of them, most of your and his friends, aren’t stupid and caught onto your tone and jabbing at your ex-boyfriend. The fact it’s in front of them all causes Hoseok’s smile to freeze as he clenches his jaw, still staring at you.

“Naha,” he drawls out, “It’s Naha.” he corrects you, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Same thing,” you mutter, waving him off in disinterest but you still catch onto the way Taehyung’s eyes widen.

You notice him whispering something to the man next to him, before all of them just excuse themselves and walk away from the two of you. Your own friends betrayed you like that, not even glancing at you as you stare in disbelief at their backs.

“Why would they leave?” you mutter, trying to hide your shock and panic that rises inside of you.

What you don’t expect is, to Hoseok actually hear you and have the actual interest to answer.

“I think we all know why.”

Your head snaps his direction, eyebrows furrowed as he stares with the same intensity back. It brings you back to all your little arguments during the period when the two of you were dating — both of you are stubborn. The arguments were never too drastic or serious, you and Hoseok were just too stubborn to apologize or talk about it first.

Hoseok was acting like nothing happened, but he’d always snap back if you managed to get out a sarcastic remark. It would go back and forth, until he’d come to you just to cuddle you and whisper a soft apology in your ears. You did the same thing, making sure he knows you hate when the two of you fight about pointless stuff. Your relationship was far more important than Hoseok forgetting to buy groceries or not picking up his dirty clothes off the floor.

He’d kiss you all over your face, covering every inch of your skin with his soft lips to prove his apology, until he’d make love to you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear for the whole time. You knew how serious and sorry he is about the whole situation, especially when he buckled his length into you with gentle and swift movements, making sure you feel every inch of him as he slowly rubs your walls. Even thinking about it makes your cheeks flush, it’s like you can’t still feel his pillow like lips on your own, yet it seems distant and foreign.

Looking back at him, his tense expression relaxes as if he just changed his mind to say something else, and asks a simple question instead. So simple, that it leaves you breathless.

“How have you been?”

You want to be angry at him so bad, but when you’re met with those brown eyes that look nothing but friendly and warm, you can’t bring yourself to be mad or annoyed. Still, you hold your head high with a sour tone behind your words.

“Great,” you inform him, too intensely for your opinion, but it doesn’t matter. “I’ve been great.”

Maybe the huge effort of trying him to believe you is what makes your stomach clench in a discomfort, or maybe it’s the way he looks at you. Like he sees right through your little white lie, but then you’re remembered. This is Hoseok, Jung Hoseok, who knows you like the back of his hand. Or used to know you. You haven’t changed much, you’re still the same person, just with a broken heart.

“That’s good,” he drawls out, and you mentally curse at yourself for trying to sound too happy. He clearly doesn’t believe you. “Are you still with that guy?”

And just like that, Hoseok leaves you breathless and knocking all the air out of your lungs again.

It took you some time to dive into the dating life again. It’s not something you were looking for, it’d be stupid while another guy was constantly on your mind. It’d be unfair to your potential future boyfriend, or just a guy you went on a casual date with. So you waited, it took you a year before you were introduced to a guy by one of your closest friends.

Tim is her colleague, a very charming and polite man, that you were dating for four months. Four months full of amazing dates until you broke it off. As much as those dates where adventurous and amazing, enough for your mind to shut Hoseok out off it, it felt like your relationship wasn’t going anywhere. Yes, maybe four months were a short period of time to do such a drastic decision, but you just weren’t feeling it. It was better to break it off with him before he caught serious feelings, not that you don’t think he wasn’t serious about you. He was, he just deserves a better woman who’s going to love him much more than you ever did.

But you kept your relationship private on social media, not that you were trying to hide him. Not at all. You didn’t post any pictures with him on your Instagram account, it wasn’t nothing intentional. You just never took that many of them.

And still, Hoseok knows about Tim, or at least that you were dating someone. And he calls him ‘that guy’.

“How do you even know that?” you ask, brows furrowed in confusion as you stare at him.

He’s the least person to talk about something. The beautiful brunette on one of his photos is the exact proof of it.

“Just because I lived in Japan, it doesn’t mean I’m completely clueless. We’ve got a mutual friends, Y/N.”

By the usage of your name, your breath hitches in your throat as you stare at him with doe eyes before an annoyed expression crosses your features.

“Mutual friends,” you scoff, “You mean Namjoon.”

It’s evident Namjoon is the one who spilled beans about your only relationship after you and Hoseok broke up. And for a moment, Hoseok’s eyes widen by the realization that you figured it out, even though it wasn’t anything hard to realize.

“We’ve got more mutual friends.” he reminds you dryly, trying to save the situation but you only chuckle in response.

“Namjoon is the only one who keeps talking with the both of us on a daily basis,” you remind him back, causing him to just sigh in defeat knowing there’s no point denying it. “And no. I’m not with that guy. And his name is Tim.”

He visibly widens his eyes at that, before he nods. “Good,” His eyes widens one more time, coughing before he speaks again. “I mean--not good, I thought--“

You raise your brow, trying not to snort at his blubbering and nervous state. You don’t ask him about his love life, the possible answer might not be what you were looking for.

“I get it, you don’t have to, y’know, be a stuttering mess.” you point out, the tip of his ears reddening as he nods awkwardly in response.

There’s a silence for a moment, your hands sprawled against the silk silver material of your dress on your thighs. You look away from him, not having the heart to look at him for any longer, and as you open your mouth to excuse yourself, he opens his own.

“Can we talk?”

You hide the shock, shoulders tensing as you look up at him. “We’re talking.” you tell him slowly, noticing the different glint in his eyes.

Oh, shit. He wants to talk. Not just a casual awkward talk between exes.

“You know what I mean,” he says, the slightest cringe making its appearance on his face, almost as if he's hurting. “I miss you.” he confesses, completely surprising you as he looks alarmed.

“You what?” you ask slowly, not believing you just heard him saying that he misses you.

“I miss you.”

He doesn’t miss a chance to say it again, this time with more confidence and if there was one of the waiters passing by, he’d ask for the whole bottle of wine to chug it down. He’s been embracing himself to talk to you ever since he decided to go to Namjoon’s wedding, knowing you’re invited and going.

“Why are you telling me this?” you breathe out, unsure of what to say.

But your heart says it all when it beats faster, appreciating how those three words sounded from his mouth with that silky and raspy voice. Is he drunk? Why is he telling you such a thing after two years of not communicating with you? On the other hand, he looks completely sober and serious as you see the determination behind his eyes that used to shine with gentleness and joy.

“Because it’s true.” he murmurs, his eyes solely set upon you.

“No, I mean-- why are you telling me this after two years?”

“Because I’m an idiot and it took me two years to realize that my life isn’t what I wanted it to be, if you’re not in it.”

You finally understand the term when someone says ‘it hit me like a bucket of cold water’ — that’s how you feel right now.

“What are you saying? You just can’t come here after such a long time and tell me all those stuff! What do you expect me to do? Welcome you with open arms?”

If he’s embarrassed by the sudden raise of your voice that would catch other’s attention sooner or later, he doesn’t show it and looks at you like a kicked puppy on the street instead. He expected your reaction be like this, he knows you and it doesn’t matter how much time has passed. You haven’t changed and if he could, he’d be the one embracing you with open arms even through your sudden outburst.

“No, I wasn’t expecting any of that,” he tells you, outstretching his hands in peace, or to calm you down, you’re not sure which one it is. “I came here because of you.”

At that, you snort and scoff right after as you stare at him with a raised brow. “Oh please, this is Namjoon’s wedding. Of course, you’d come if the time and your job would allow you to.”

“I wasn’t about to come. Yes, Namjoon invited me and I told him that I won’t probably make it. I don’t know what came over me but I asked him if you’re coming,”

“You asked him if I was coming?” you chuckle, Hoseok’s face cringing by the bitterness behind your tone.

“I was asking him about you all the time.” he admits quietly, eyes scanning your face as you let his words to sink in.

You know Hoseok barely lies, his ears get all red and you can see the frustration on his face right away if he does. But there’s none of it, straight honesty thick in his voice and determination mixed with sadness on his handsome glowy face.

“Why?”

It’s a simple question, yet you see how his Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps before he opens his mouth.

“Because I couldn’t stand the fact that I don’t get to see you or hear your voice. I messed up. I fucked up so bad by leaving to Japan, by leaving you. I thought I was doing the best thing for me but I was wrong. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, and I can’t believe I was fucking stupid enough to let you go.”

All the emotions that were buried inside of you makes your hands tremble as you try to clutch them in your hold. The tears are brimming in your eyes but you blink them away, staring at Hoseok who looks just as painful.

“Stop, you can’t say things like--“

“Why can’t I? I know this may not be a good time or place, but I had to get it off my chest. Seeing you right now--I just couldn’t wait.” he cuts you off, but still offers a weak smile in apology when he sees your deep frown.

You’ve always hated whenever he interrupted you, it makes your heart jump over the fact he remembers.

“What do you want me to do? You’ve hurt me, Hobi.” you murmur, happy your voice didn’t crack.

He stutters over his words, eyes widening before he looks down in a shame. “I’m sorry.”

You can’t blame him for choosing his career life, you’ve always known how important it is for him to prove himself to his parents. And you’ve always wanted what’s best for him. Although, it doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt when he told you he’s got a new job opportunity in Japan. He expected you to move there with him, but you couldn’t. And when you’ve told him that, he ended things with you. It was mutual, and the most hurtful thing you’ve ever experienced.

The memories of you crying yourself to sleep, pillow damped with your tears are so fresh, that it almost hurts just thinking about it.

“I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with. If you want me to leave, I will. If you don’t want to see me ever again, you won’t have to.”

Something about how he talks about you not having to see him ever again makes your heart crack. “I don’t hate you, Hobi.” you tell him quietly, watching a hope crossing over his features.

“You don’t?”

“Of course not,” you try to muster a smile, “I could never hate you, no matter how hurt I was. I’m just not sure what I’m supposed to do. This is so all of a sudden. Aren’t you living in Japan?”

“Not anymore,” he answers, smiling when he sees your confusion. “I’ve quit.” he shrugs, causing your eyes to almost buldge out.

“Quit? But you just told Taehyung that you got promoted.”

“I did, but I declined the offer. I just didn’t know what to say, I didn’t think he’d bring it right in front of you,” he explains, causing you to chuckle when he scratches the back of his head in a mere embarrassment. “I’m moving back to Korea and I’ve got a few job offers already.”

You nod, confused how joyful your heart feels at the new information.

“What’s your plan then?” you cough.

“To win my girl back,” He doesn’t waste a minute, answering your question right away while you almost choke yourself on your spit. “I mean... if you let me to.”

“I-I don’t know what to say,” you stutter, shaking tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You caught me off guard.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I understand we can’t go back to what we used to have, nor I expect that from you. I just want you to know that I’m sorry.” he smiles sadly at you, tucking his hands into the pockets of his slacks.

“I’m not angry at you,” you tell him, causing him to smile and nod. “I’ve missed you too.” you admit, noticing how big his eyes look.

“You have?”

With a slow nod, you’re shocked when your body is enveloped in a strong arms, your face pressed into his suit as the scent of his fragrance hits your nose. You recognize it immediately, it’s the one you complimented him so many times, causing him to use it all the time. His arms are strong, yet gentle around your frame as you smile into his chest when you feel a soft peck into your hair. He apologizes under his breath, whether it was for the innocent kiss into your hair or just in general, you just shake your head and hug him back. It feels nice to feel him again, not be in his arms.

And even though, you’ve no intention of going back to dating him right away, you know what your heart pleads for. It’s him. It’s always been him, and being so close to him right now just proves it. It proves that even after those two years, you still love him.

He softly pulls away, hand itching to caress your cheek but he stops himself in midway which makes you blush.

“Are you free tomorrow?” he asks, tone cautious and insecure about your possible answer.

It makes you smile, wanting to squeeze his cheeks and kiss those pouty lips. When he sighs, ready to apologize and tell you to forget about it, it feels like you know exactly what’s on his mind. So you interrupt him before he can utter a single word.

“Yeah, I am.” you answer, grinning at him which causes him to open his mouth in shock.

“Y-you are? Yeah, okay. Is coffee okay?”

He clearly thought your answer would be the opposite, and it makes you giggle at his distressed face.

One thing he probably doesn’t know, is that no matter what he’d propose would be the perfect idea for you.

“Coffee’s perfect.” you answer, causing him to visibly sigh in relief as he touches his chest, exactly where his heart is.

Giggling, you lick your lips as he smiles down at you with adoring lips.

“Can I have the dance?” he stretches out his arm for you, causing you to groan which he laughs at.

He knows you hate dancing, especially when he’s so good at it. It makes you look like a total fool. But still, you don’t miss the opportunity to be close to him again, as soft classic music fills the whole room. You place your hand into his and nod in response, causing him to hesitate before he kisses the back of it, your heart screaming at you as you smile at him.

He leads you to the dance floor, one hand placed in yours while the other one holds your waist in a soft and gentleman manner. As you both start to dance, letting your bodies move into a slow and sensual music, both of you don’t look away. You stare at each other, with Hoseok licking his lips and you biting your bottom lip, wanting nothing more than to taste them. But as the gentlemen that Hoseok is, he doesn’t make a move even when you press yourself closer to him.

And when he chuckles at your attempt to get closer to him, he holds you even tighter as he stares lovingly down at you.

It takes you a few minute of dancing, before both of your mouths are pressed together, kissing like there’s no tomorrow.

In the distance you hear all of your and Hoseok’s friends cheering for the two of you, both of you are too busy making up for those two years. However, you still have a long way to go, and you’re getting that coffee tomorrow.

But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#networkbangtan #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #hoseok x reader #jhope x reader #bts au #bts fanfic #hoseok scenario #hoseok drabble #jung hoseok au #personasintro

[vagrantblvrd]

I’ve seen posts where people think Sebastian Stan should be cast as Luke for future space adventures? Which believe me, are amazing and I would 100% watch the hell out of?

But also please to consider this:

Din comes across this character played by Sebastian Stan who gives Din what is obviously a fake name. Because Antilles, right? One of the most common names around and he might as well have not given Din a name at all, but it’s not like he’s going to call the guy on it or anything, right?

Din’s out hunting down Imperial remnants that have anything to do with the experiments on Grogu and finds this Antilles guy in a cell at one of the bases. He’s clearly had a rough time of it if the look he gives Din when he opens the door to his cell is any indication.

Just this...shock and surprise and something like grief before he tucks it all way behind this oddly familiar smile.

Antilles has clearly been treated to Imperial “kindness”, in that he’s bruised all to hell and can’t walk on his own - almost falls when he insists he’s fine, no really - so Din gets to play human crutch. (Might have been there a while, because he’s all scruffy too, unkempt beard and hair, and anyway, he’s not had an easy time of things.)

Which is fine because Din dealt with most of the Imperials by the time he found Antilles, but! They hit an intersection while looking for the labs and a couple of stormtroopers coming from the opposite direction.

This moment where they all stare at one another in that uh, situation? kind of way but haven’t had the time to react just yet.

Thing is, Din and Antilles happened to trip over their feet just before the troopers walked up, are untangling themselves but Din’s not in a good position to draw his blasters or any of his other weapons. Is like of course this would happen now and resigned to using himself as a human shield, because Antilles is in rough shape and Din’s armor, and anyway.

Doesn’t matter in the end because he feels this tug at his hip and Antilles ducking under his arm and pew-pew-pew, down go the stormtroopers, felled by incredible aim and Din’s blaster and Antilles who gives him this little smirk that is also oddly familiar.

Antilles shrugs, says something about his dad teaching him to shoot or whatever and when Din gets them both back on their feet apologizes for grabbing his blaster. But since doing so just saved their lives, Din’s not all that bothered by it.

Anyway, they get to the labs and Din parks Antilles in a chair while he digs for anything helpful. Scrounges up some datasticks and destroys the rest and when he turns to collect Antilles on the way out - 

The guy’s got this look on his face. Complicated, because angry and wistful and a whole bunch of other things Din doesn’t have the time or luxury to unpack.

They get back to Din’s ship, and Din catches the - he doesn’t even know - expression on Antilles’ face when he sees it.

Some of the grief is back, and the wistful nostalgia and weirdly enough, Antilles pats the hull of the ship as Din gets them up the ramp and he swears he hears him say something like long time no see, old girl, and anyway. Din has stuff he needs to get back to Lu - to Skywalker to see if he or his New Republic friends can make sense of it.

He gets Antilles patched up and there’s clothes for him to wear - old bounties who didn’t need it anymore or gifts from people Din helped in the past an he didn’t know what to do with them and anyway.

Antilles looks better after he’s patched up and cleaned up, wearing this mishmash of clothes but he’s not complaining. Seems more grounded, settled, too, than he had earlier, like he’s had time to sort things out for himself.

Shaved his beard, but kept the mustache and just shrugs when Din notices it, just an observation on his part and doesn’t ask because it’s not like matters and anyway.

They run into some trouble getting back to Skywalker’s school, but Antilles isn’t useless. Knows how to fly, is a damn good shot - impressive, really - and knows his way around both jungle and desert in survival situations.

Because that trouble they run into and crashing and continuing to not die after the crashing is done because Imperials or other baddies, and anyway.

Antilles is far from useless and also snarky as hell and Din actually starts to like him.

Wonders a little at how sad he seems sometimes, the two of them sitting at the fire they’re cooking that night’s dinner over and Din looks over when Antilles isn’t expecting it.

Staring at the flames and sad, the kind that runs deep.

Din doesn’t ask, though, doesn’t think it would be appreciated because there’s something...brittle about Antilles in the right conditions and anyway, he doesn’t ask.

Antilles gives him little pieces of himself here and there, though. Mentions his parents, the one who taught him how to shoot, the one who taught him how to fight. Both of them arguing about who was going to teach him to fly until his aunt and uncle had enough of the pointlessness of it and taught him themselves.

(”I learned to fly on a freighter,” he tells Din, cutting through an asteroid field to avoid Imperial TIES after them like it’s nothing. “Corellian make, fastest thing around.”)

Apparently Antilles knows a whole lot of things besides all that, knows how to cheat at sabacc well enough Din almost doesn’t catch him at it. And when he does, the man gives him this wide-eyed look of innocence like who, him? cheat? he would never that is so painfully familiar Din has to look away because there’s a reason he’s out here on his own, isn’t there.

(All these inconvenient Feelings and no chance that Skywalker would ever return them, because Jedi and also look at Din, okay, kind of a mess of a human being and Luke is Luke.)

Anyway.

Eventually they make it to Luke’s school and Din can’t help but notice how quiet Antilles gets as they come in for the landing approach. Hands whit-knuckled in his lap, and he’s trying to look like everything’s fine but his jaw in clenched and he’s got that look in his eyes again and anyway.

Luke comes out to greet them with Grogu running ahead, and both of them stop short at the sight of Antilles.

“Din,” Skywalker says slowly, in such a way that Din realizes something is going on, “who’s your friend?”

Din explains meeting Antilles in the cell of an Imperial remnant base and their many adventures getting back to the school and so on.

The entire time Skywalker (and Grogu) are staring at Antilles, and Antilles is staring back at them, and Din is just like this is Force nonsense again, isn’t it.

And then Antilles is like, So I Have Something To Tell You.

At which point he tells them that he’s from the future - because of course - thanks to some doohickey in the ruins of a Jedi temple he was investigating - because of course it’s to do with Force nonsense - and also he’s here to set the timeline right after a sith or whoever got their first and meddled with the original timeline.

Because of course he is.

There’s a whole Thing in which Antilles and Skywalker go off to talk Jedi stuff.

(Oh, yeah, apparently Antilles is Force-sensitive, probably actually a Jedi himself and Din is like, of course he is because that’s his luck, isn’t it?)

Anyway, Din goes off to check on Luke’s students with Grogu and everyone’s happy to see him, pepper him with questions about what he did while he was gone and he tells them the parts that don’t involve killing people, because wow, no.

And then later on when everyone’s asleep or supposed to be asleep Skywalker finds him and they just kind of enjoy a moment of quiet, peace, while they can.

Comfortable the way things are around one another, and Din’s traitorous heart goes all soft and squishy when Skywalker gives him this warm smile as he catches Din up on happenings at the school while he was gone.

(How many frogs Grogu’s eaten - too many to count, honestly, I’m starting to worry - and so on.)

Din feels guilty at how much he enjoys these moments with Skywalker because they’re not something he gets to have, and anyway, yes.

Shenanigans in which Antilles is clearly in league with Skywalkers students and just about everyone in shoving Din and Skywalker together until finally one of them breaks and confessions concerning Feelings are had and convenient that they’re locked in a storage area because no one else to see when Din presses his forehead against Luke’s and they both do that breathy little laugh that’s all soft and surprised and only for them, and anyway!

Then the Serious Shenanigans happen in which the sith (or whtatever) Antilles was after pops up and does an Evil Monologue in which it’s revealed they were responsible for killing Antilles’ family in that original timeline and also ushering in a new era for the Empire and oethr bad stuff.

Oh, and also, Luke and Din are his parents because those experiments on Grogu and that time both Din and Luke got caught and had blood samples and the whatnot taken and anyway.

He’s cloned from them or something equally dramatic, idk how science works, and they rescued him and raised him as their own and the mustache of his should have been a bigger clue, really, it’s been staring them all in the face (literally) the whole time, what fools they’ve been not to realize!!1!

Emotional fallout and sacrifice plays with one of them being no, bad, don’t try that again or I’ll be Disappointed and the good guys winning the day as the timeline is set right, and all that good stuff.

Din, Luke, Grogu, and Antilles go to where the Jedi ruins are with the time travel doohickey to send Antilles - he still won’t tell them what his name is.

There’s emotional goodbyes all around and then poof, off he goes back to the future where he belongs Din and Luke and Grogu like wow, that was a thing, huh?

But also.

The thing where they’ve both been captured - together and separately - by Imperial remnants and had blood samples and the whatnot taken and Antilles could exist in their timeline right now.

Realize he never told them where they found him or how, and are like oh, no, because what if they don’t find him now? What if they never find him???

So of course Artoo trundles over and plays this little holomessage of Antilles.

Looks nervous as hell and that sadness they knew the reason for all over him, must have recorded this before he told them who he was, and anyway.

He doesn’t know where they found him exactly, just the name of the system and his best guess at when it happened, and then he gets this look on his face like. It’s too much like the one Luke gets sometimes, like Din’s when he’s in a bad place, and anyway.

They go looking where he told them and they find this kid, tiny, adorable, scared kid who can tap into the Force and he’s got Luke’s eyes and Din’s hair and other little small things and he’s just.

“Would have been helpful if he told us what we named him,” Luke says, but he’s kind of an emotional mess the way Din is, and anyway, yes.

(Also, though. Grogu is the worst influence on their kid, but an awesome big brother.)

#star wars nonsense #dinluke #time travel shenanigans #because reasons #technically not a fic #vagrant fic #¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[kaylorrehabcenter]

Rating Every Song on Fearless Based on How Gay it is

Hello friends! I still have a few song analyses in the pipeline (and one on Lover the album) but today in honor of Fearless (Taylor’s Edition) being announced and Love Story being released in a few hours I thought I’d do something fun to celebrate!

And you know what? Fuck my usual disclaimer, I am the word of god here. Try and change my mind about any of these. I dare you. (I kid I kid this isn’t that serious and you’re free to disagree <3)

1. Fearless 15/10

Everything about this song is so fucking gay oh my god. This isn’t a fruit, this is a whole ass edible arrangement. As a small rural town Gay (my hometown has a population of less that 4,000 and where I’m living now has a population of 2,500) this uh. Hits.

“And I don't know how it gets better than this/You take my hand and drag me head first, fearless”

Y’ALL

The idea of falling in love with someone who makes you less afraid of your homophobic small town…….it’s getting to me.

“My hands shake, I'm not usually this way but/You pull me in and I'm a little more brave/It's the first kiss, it's flawless, really something/It's fearless”

This is making me emotional, I'll be honest. I see so much of my friends and my experience in high school in this song. 

This quote I found on genius is from when the album was released on BMR’s website.

“When I wrote ‘Fearless,’ I wasn’t dating anyone. I wasn’t even in the beginning stages of dating anybody. I really was all by myself out on tour and I got this idea for a song about the best first date. I think sometimes when you’re writing love songs, you don’t write them about what you’re going through at the moment, you write about what you wish you had. So, this song is about the best first date I haven’t had yet.”

This just screams baby Tay writing gay folklore to me, about the gay stories she wish she had. Notice how there are no pronouns in this song??? Fruity I’m telling you.

All that to say. I’m crying because the linear note says “I loved you before I met you” and I want to go listen to Long Story Short and cry now.

2. Fifteen 1/10

Objectively pretty straight as she’s singing about her and Abigail’s dating boys in HS. And Taylor got with a senior guy. Good for her I suppose.

Unless he was one of the shitty ones in which case.

“This is life before you know who you're gonna be”

This however, is a cute line and the whole song makes me warm and nostalgic. You can also hear her crying after the line “and Abigail gave everything she had to a boy who changed his mind” which makes me emo and I’m sure will take on new depth after Abigail’s divorce and hurt me even more.

Other highlights that make me sob include.

“When all you wanted was to be wanted/Wish you could go back and tell yourself what you know now/Back then I swore I was gonna marry him someday/But I realized some bigger dreams of mine”

Bigger dreams of hers indeed :’)

(Also how can you say she’s a gold star lesbian when this song exists. She was obviously dating boys in high school and even if you think she’s a lesbian. Comp het is a hell of a drug kids.)

3. Love Story 8/10

Tried to change the ending indeed.

This is THE Taylor Swift song, and maybe it’s the nostalgia talking but damn I still love it. Written because she wanted to change the ending of Romeo and Juliet (how anyone likes RandJ enough to want to rewrite I have no clue.) and/or because her parents didn’t approve of a guy she was seeing. (according to genius, it would’ve been too early for Joe J so it could possibly be Boys Like Girls frontman, his image did clash with hers and they did release some cute songs together. However if you want my take it’s probably folklore about Emily, take for what you will)

This song has very oft gay vibes with the ‘They don’t approve of our love angle!’ but uses male pronouns so points redacted for that. HOWEVER this is a very early use of ~the male perspective~ in Taylor’s songs and for that it deserves all the love.

“ So I sneak out to the garden to see you/We keep quiet, 'cause we're dead if they knew/So close your eyes/Escape this town for a little while”

More rural town angst!!!

Nothing gets me more than rural town angst.

“Romeo, save me, they're trying to tell me how to feel/This love is difficult, but it's real”

Originally the lyric was “this love is different”. Granted I do not remember the source, i’s just lore implanted into my brain, but make of that what you will.

“"Marry me, Juliet, you'll never have to be alone/I love you, and that's all I really know/I talked to your dad, go pick out a white dress/It's a love story, baby, just say "Yes"”

Marry me Juliet from the male perspective :)

Also worth noting. This is Karlie’s (and Kim K’s lmao) favorite Taylor song which. While basic as hell. Makes this cover sad as hell to this former Kaylor. (thanks @swiftgron-get-married for the tears <3)

Also not to make this about a man AGAIN but the secret message is “Some day I’ll find this” AND SHE DID IM CRYING.

4. Hey Stephen 1/10

The one thing Camilla Cabello and I have in common is loving this song, so I have to live with that for the rest of my life.

This song is very painfully straight.

How can you think this woman is a gold star lesbian.

The only noteworthy thing is that this is one of the few songs she confirms who it’s about. The secret message is “Love and Theft” which is the name of a country music duo who went on to open her Fearless tour. Which, does make me side eye this song a little bit.

Still a cute song.

“Hey Stephen, boy, you might have me believing/I don't always have to be alone”

5. White Horse 1/10

Oh look. It’s track five. 

You know maybe this is just me being a bitch but in my ranking of track fives this is. Pretty low. Maybe on the bottom.

Like I don’t have a lot to say about it. 

She’s going through it over a guy. He was a cheating dickweazel. 

“'Cause I'm not your princess, this ain't a fairytale/I'm gonna find someone someday/Who might actually treat me well”

“Try and catch me now, oh/It's too late/To catch me now”

These lines hit though!!

And she found Joe!! Who treats her well!!!! And she isn’t the princess, she’s the prince who dropped her sword and knocked on her door!!! But this time if they come for them she’s ready!!!

Yes I will make every song about Long Story Short <3

6. You Belong With Me 5/10

Ah yes. The other THE Taylor Swift song.

You know. If I went to a high school with a cheerleading squad. And I had a crush on a cheerleader. I would blast this song. So for that it gets a 5/10. Otherwise. Fairly straight and fairly iconic.

7. Breathe 8/10

Well. We know this one is about a woman. (Emily Poe for those not in the know. Ha. A rhyme!) That alone has an 8/10. And it’s the first time she has a featured artist so bonus points for that!

It was nominated for a Grammy and it fucking lost to Jason Mraz. When’s the last time you thought about Jason Mraz.

I will not have Kaylor feels on a fucking Fearless song but damn is it VERY easy.

“Never a clean break, no one here to save me/You're the only thing I know like the back of my hand”

“It's 2 A.M, feeling like I just lost a friend/Hope you know it's not easy, easy for me”

Also this bridge? Goes off. HIGHLY underrated. 

8. Tell Me Why 3/10

You know. Maybe this album isn’t as gay as I once thought.

This song does bop though, not as good as her other angry songs on this album. But I can vibe with this you know. Why are you being an asshole mysterious man.

“You could write a book on how to ruin someone's perfect day”

This has to be one of baby Tay’s best burns. Damn. 

“Why do you have to make me feel small/So you can feel whole inside?/Why do you have to put down my dreams/So you're the only thing on my mind?”

Men ain’t shit kids. However, bonus points for the shade. 

9. You’re not Sorry 1/10

Ok, ok. Maybe this was a foolish endeavor.

Because yet again we have a very straight song. A good song. That was on Taylor’s episode of CSI. But oh dear. Very straight. Gets a measly one point. We started this post off so very very gay but damn. We seem to be nearing the end on a very straight note.

10. The Way I Loved You 20/10

Hey Remember what I said about this album being very straight.

WELL THAT WAS A LIE.

Is this a comphet album or am I projecting.

This is one of my favorite baby gay Taylor songs. Her masterful use of pronouns (he is sensible! And so incredible! And all my single friends are jealous! But I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain, when it was two am and I was cursing your name!) makes the other person she’s singing about completely vague, while we know she isn’t happy with whichever guy she’s dating.

Mayhaps an early reaction to PRomances?

Either way this song is so good, truly an underrated gay gem I mean. Look at it.

“Breaking down and coming undone/It's a roller coaster kind of rush/And I never knew I could feel that much/And that's the way I loved you”

AND THE BRIDGE. Do all of her gay songs just have kickass bridges?

“He can't see the smile I'm faking/And my heart's not breaking/'Cause I'm not feeling anything at all/And you were wild and crazy/Just so frustrating/Intoxicating, complicated/Got away by some mistake and now…”

Damn. I’m imaging this with 2020 vocals and fucking ascending.

Also please watch the live performance of it from the Fearless tour. It’s such a damn shame this got cut from the movie and some woman in the front row is wearing a cowboy hat. Everyone is holding up those cameras everyone had to have before smartphones. Taylor is being endearing. It’s a good time.

11. Forever and Always 6/10

Bonus points for the ~drama~ of it all. Added last minute to the album? The iconic throwing of the chair in live performances?? All of it very dramatique and for that we stan.

Still pretty straight.

Also Joe Jonas responded to the song and why do I find his response so damn funny. “It’s part of being a musician, I guess. You write songs about each other.”

This is another song where the idea of Taylor’s grown up vocals on this is………..whew

12. The Best Day 0/10

This gets zero points because it’s about her literal mom.

Still makes me cry.

God bless Andrea Swift indeed

13. Change 13/10

We start the official tracklist with a gay song. We end it with a gay song.

We will ignore that it was originally written for Scott and BMR and instead induct it into the hall of gay pride anthems, as it should be. 

“We're getting stronger now, finding things they never found/They might be bigger but we're faster and never scared/You can walk away, say we don't need this/But there's something in your eyes says we can beat this”

“This revolution, the time will come/For us to finally win/And we'll sing hallelujah, we'll sing hallelujah”

The music video is cringe though lol

14. Jump then Fall 10/10

This song is gay because I choose it to be. <3

Like. Picture baby Taylor writing this song and playing it on her guitar to a girl she has a crush on telling her that she’ll protect her and they’ll be safe and in love and happy together. Gah, maybe I’m ~projecting~ but this sweet ass song always gets me and is EASILY in my top five Taylor songs. Super underrated and hecking cute. 

“We're on the phone and without a warning/I realize your laugh is the best sound/I have ever heard”

Like. Look at this shit.

“I watch you talk, you didn't notice/I hear the words but all I can think is/We should be together”

Tell me this is about the first time you get a crush on a girl and she’s your best friend and she’s amazing and beautiful and you realize you kinda want to kiss her and you hope she wants to kiss you too.

“I had time to think it oh, over/And all I can say is come closer/Take a deep breath and jump then fall into me”

And she’s the Romeo who's going to protect her!!!!! She’s the knight in shining armor in this song and I love that for her??

“The bottom's gonna drop out from under our feet/I'll catch you, I'll catch you/When people say things that bring you to your knees/I'll catch you/The time is gonna come when you're so mad you could cry/But I'll hold you through the night until you smile”

I won’t divulge into full on analysis here because. This is what this post is about but PLEASE listen to this song more. It’s such a gay little gem.

15. Untouchable 9/10

How does she make a cover sound gay.

It sounds so gay.

“You got to come on, come on, say that we'll be together/Come on, come on, little taste of heaven”

Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay

16. Forever and Always Piano Version 1/10

This song gets 1/10 because I don’t like it. There. I said it.

17. Come in With the Rain 3/10

I can see why this is a bonus track. It doesn’t hit me as much as the other songs on the album.

But damn if I don’t want to scream sing this one driving down a high way.

18. Superstar 7/10

You can’t tell me this song is about a man. I simply won’t entertain the idea.

You cannot prove to me that this song is about a man. There is not a male pronoun in sight. 

>:)

19. The Other Side of the Door 6/10

Is this song about having a fight about being in the closet? Probably not. Will my gay little brain make it about that? Yep!

And that, funky little queer pals, is my gay rating of every Fearless song. Like and subscribe, #t3atmidnight

#long post // #fearless the album #gaylor #what do i tag this for it to show up for peope?? #gay rating

[slashersins-abandoned]

It’s quiet . The volume off in your car as you drive through back roads . Music didn’t seem to help your mood . In fact , it seemed to worsen it . Happy sounds tore at you as you remembered flicking moments when you had thought you were loved . Sad songs cut deep as you remembered the way he had so easily left , telling you he couldn’t care less how he hurt you . How he’d never loved you . The emotions had swarmed in your head and you’d done your best to refuse to cry . You hated to cry , hated how your voice got thick and dry and overly wet at the same time . Hated how splotchy and heated and red your face became when you tried to hold back tears . Hated how it felt to have your eyes so raw , being so exhausted afterwards . So the music was turned off only ten minutes into your drive .

You weren’t sure how long you’d been driving . Crossing from Texas into Louisiana an hour in , and it’s been miles and hours since then . You had no where to go . Just wanting to get away . And you really should have been paying attention to how much gas you had . Frustrated , you let out a scream , hitting your steering wheel as your car stuttered to a halt , barely able to pull off backroads gravel and half way into a shallow ditch . You just couldn’t do anything right . Couldn’t keep the love of a man , couldn’t even get the damn man to love you . And you couldn’t keep track of your gas and now you stuck in some back roads miles from the last town and who knew how many to the next .

You didn’t see the point in getting out just yet . The sky was starting to light up with the red and orange and purple hues of the sunset . And you had enough sense in you to know walking a lonely country road at night wasn’t the smartest thing to do . At least it was pretty , wherever you were . Somewhere in Louisiana . The trees tall and rich with green leaves . The road curving and familiar , so much like back home . At least you could spend the next few minutes enjoying how the sun set before it got dark and you were forced to sleep in your car the rest of the night .

The lights of a truck had you squinting awake from your restless slumber . Curled up in your front seat , you managed to shield your eyes , sitting up . Looks like someone found you . A yawn left your lips , the concern that should have flooded you pushed aside as grogginess made itself a home . Without a cautious thought , you opened your door , got out , wrapped up in an old sweater you were using as a makeshift blanket .

Suppressing a yawn and failing as you put the back of your hand to your mouth , you gave a lazy wave , eyes still adjusting to the bright headlights and the dark all at the same time . For a moment you think no ones going to get out of the truck , and you tilt your head some before turning to get back into your car .

“You okay , ma’am?” The sound of a truck door being slammed shut draws your attention back . And the southern drawl is almost comforting to hear after being stuck out in the middle of nowhere . You give a sheepish smile and shift on your feet , looking as embarrassed at the situation as you felt despite trying not to show it .

“I ran outta gas . Kinda stuck out here . But I figured it’d be safer to walk during the day than at night so I’m camping out.” The man moves closer . Tall , oil stained coveralls and a red jacket to keep himself warm .

“Well ain’t that all kinds of unlucky.” He laughed some , looking over the car and then you . Giving a jerk to his truck . “If you wanna keep enjoying your little sleep over I won’t bother ya . But if you’d rather sleep on a bed I don’t mind taking ya into town . Ambrose ain’t too far from here . And a bed might be better than a car seat .”

You blink , the sudden offer alluring . You really didn’t have a lot of options . And a bed would be better than sleeping in the car . Plus if you were close to town that’d mean you could get gas for your car and stock up on some snacks before … before you decide to head back home or keep on driving . You scratch at your cheek , giving a laugh and sighing in defeat .

“I think I might have to take you up on that offer . And thank you . I really appreciate it .” You lean into your car , grabbing the bag you’d haphazardly packed before taking off and slung it over your shoulder . Waking over to him you offer your hand , a half sleepy smile on your lips . “I’m y/n . Nice to meet you.”

The man grins , grabbing your hand and shaking , letting out a low whistle when you don’t just limp grip his hand but firmly shake it with purpose . You just shrug and smile . “Bo. Bo Sinclair. Nice to meet ya. And don’t worry about you’re car . I’ll have one of the guys come get in in the morning and bring it to my shop. Get you gas and get you on your way.”

You perk up a bit , letting him walk you to the passenger side and opening the door for you . “What ? You don’t have to . I can walk back . Really I don’t wanna cause you too much trouble.” He shakes his head , flashing you a smile as he shuts the door and walks around the front to the other side .

“Isn’t any trouble . Would be a shitty ass mechanic and car shop owner if I let you walk all the way to your car carrying a jug of gas.” He flashes you a smile and you shakes your head .

“I think you’re just trying to show off your southern hospitality .” Bo snickered , moving his truck out of park and turning it around , headed to … “Ambrose . Is it a small town ?” You shift the conversation , curious about where you’re headed .

Bo gives you a side glance , smiling to himself , “Maybe I’m just this charmin’.” You laugh and he raises a brow at you , only to seem to somber as you mention Ambrose. “It’s my home town . It’s small , but big enough . We gotta fancy wax museum up on the hill past the fields . It’s ‘bout the only reason anyone passes through anymore.”

“Really?” Despite your obvious sleepiness , you manage to perk up , curious as he mentions the wax museum . “We don’t even have a dollar store in my home town!” You laugh some, bringing your feet up to sit crisscross in the worn down seat of Bo’s truck . “Would it be too much to go look at it before I take off tomorrow ? Is there an entry fee ? I should have enough to pay for the tow and the gas and maybe some snacks , but if I have any left over I’d love to see it.”

Bo blinks at you for a moment , as if he’s considering something before he chuckles and turns his gaze back to the road . “Sure it wouldn’t be too much trouble . It’s a donation ran kinda museum . If your feeling’ inclined to pay for your visit , I won’t be stoppin’ ya .”

You grin , already looking forward to tomorrow . Which was something you hadn’t done in a while . At least not since … Your smile fell , a different kind of tiredness taking over as you gazed out the window . A large sign coming into view that read “Welcome to Ambrose” it looked like it needed a fresh coat of paint , but was well maintained . It chased away your previous sadness , replacing it with a mixture of nostalgia for your own home town and excitement to see this small one .

“Isn’t much to look at this time of night , but it’s home.” You give a glance to Bo , brow raised as he played up his home town . The southern boy charm oozing off him was refreshingly adorable . And it seemed he knew it .

“Sir , I’m gonna have to ask you to stop.” You’re almost laughing as you look at Bo . It seems he likes showing off because he’s smirking like crazy and laying on his accent thicker and thicker .

“Ma’am , I got no idea what yer talk in’ about.” He pulls into a drive , parking his car before tossing an arm over the empty middle seat and giving you a grin . “Hope ya don’t mind the fact we don’t gotta fancy motel .”

“I can’t believe you expect me to stay in a motel . I have a perfectly unfunctioning car to sleep in.” Bo laughs at that , shaking his head and shooting you a playful look .

“I could always drive you back and dump you there . Make you walk all the way to this little town o’ mine.” He winks , getting out of the truck and walking to your side , opening the door for you . You get out , taking a moment to be serious as he shuts the door and jerks his head towards the house .

“Really , though , I do appreciate you giving me a lift and a place to sleep.” You smile , genuinely thankful , and it makes Bo pause . Once again looking down at you as if he was mulling something over in his head . Wanting to ease the silence you playfully nudge his shoulder with your fist . “And all that country boy charm was refreshing to hear . I’m starting to wonder if people come here for the wax museum or for the way you talk.” Your words break him out of his thoughts and he laughs .

“Trust me . It’s the museum that brings people in . I ain’t all rainbows and sunshine all the time . Even us charmin’ southern gentlemen got a little bit of a bastard inside ‘em .” You roll your eyes , feeling so at home with how Bo went on . Maybe you should visit your home town for a while after you get gas . It’d be nice to go back .

The two of you joked , each one trying to lay on your accents thicker and thicker , jabbing at each other in an almost snarky way as bo grabbed a key from the motel counter and walked you to your room . Once again you went from light hearted to sincere thanks for the help . Bo just waved it off . Giving you a good night before you shut the door .

Outside Bo frowned to himself . He should of just killed you and taken you to Vinny . Should of ended your life , but something about you … He wasn’t sure . But whatever it was kept him from killing you . Plus you were entertaining . Not falling for his charm but actually enjoying it in a casual way . Maybe it was the small town solidarity he got from you . Either way , you were alive . For now , at least . He’d deal with it in the morning . Or better yet , he’d let Vincent decide on what to do with you .

#bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair imagine #slasher #slashers #slasher imagine #slashers imagine #slasher x reader #slashers x reader

[suituuup]

pieces - chapter five

Five years ago, Chloe dropped off the face of the Earth. Beca didn't expect to see her again dancing in a strip club, out of all places.

rated: E (drug use and emotional abuse)

ao3 link

*

As the rest of the day ticked by, Beca kept replaying the events at Sarah’s coffee shop over and over, unable to pinpoint what she could have said to make Chloe bolt like that. She managed to focus on her tasks at hand over the afternoon and headed home around 6, groaning as soon as she stepped inside when she remembered she had promised Sarah to cook her dinner. 

She pondered on canceling for half a minute because all she felt like doing was taking a long shower and eating pizza in bed, but she already felt guilty about a lot of things these past couple of days. 

So she took a quick shower instead and put on some comfy jeans and a plaid shirt, tossing her blow-dried hair in a messy bun atop her head. With one of her favorite blues records playing throughout her home, Beca set to work to make creamy salmon pasta with spinach, nursing a much-needed glass of wine as she cooked. 

“Babe?” 

“In the kitchen,” Beca called out over the music, lowering the heat on the boiling water and dropping a handful of spaghetti in. She smiled as Sarah brushed a kiss to her cheek. “Hey.” 

“Hello you,” Sarah murmured, squeezing her hip as she walked past her to set a bottle of wine on the counter. “Smells delicious.” 

“Hopefully it tastes good, too.” Not that Beca was worried; she had been making this dish for a few years. “Wine?” 

Sarah hopped onto the counter next, humming. “Yes, please.” 

Beca opened the fridge and took the bottle out, reaching on the tip of her toes (shhh) for a glass in the cabinet over her head. She poured some wine in and handed it to Sarah. “Sorry I disappeared earlier.”

After Chloe had left, Beca wasn’t in the mood to eat or finish her coffee, leaving a $20 on the table on her way out. 

“Was that the friend you told me about yesterday?” 

Beca puffed out a sigh. “Yeah. She’s…” It’s complicated, Beca was about to say, but she figured she owed Sarah some details after what happened at her workplace. “She’s in a bad place. And I wanna help her, but she doesn’t seem to want any help. I don’t know what to do anymore.” 

Sarah covered Beca’s hand with her own, the pad of her thumb stroking her skin back and forth. “Has it been a long time since you last saw each other?” 

“Over six years. We fell out of touch about five years ago. Well, she cut us all out of her life nearly overnight.” 

Sarah tilted her head to the side. “Us?” 

“The Bellas, from college. Chloe and I were co-captains.” Beca swallowed around the lump forming in her throat as a wave of nostalgia hit her with full force. “She just… she was my best friend.” 

“I’m sorry, baby. Maybe give her some time and she’ll come around?” 

Beca doubted that, but she nodded anyway. “Yeah, maybe.” She shook her head, squeezing Sarah’s hand as she mustered a smile. “Enough about me. How was your day?” 

As the next week ticked by, Beca started to lose hope. In true Beca Mitchell fashion, she threw herself into work to avoid dealing with her emotions, staying at the office until midnight most days. 

A knock on her open-door one night made her jolt. She had lost herself in the view and her own thoughts, unaware someone was still at the office. 

Beca spun her chair around to face the door, finding Luke in the doorway. “Why are you here so late?” 

“I could ask you the same thing,” Luke pointed out, inviting himself in. He set a sheet of paper in front of Beca, then plopped down in the seat on the other side of her desk. “This is incredible. You’ve got to record it.” 

Beca glanced down at her own handwriting, heavily regretting showing Luke that song she wrote a few days ago. “I don’t know, man.” 

“What?” Luke asked, incredulous. “Becky, you haven’t been able to write a lyric for the past three years and now that you’ve got a platinum record worthy song, you don’t want to use it?”

Beca nibbled on the inside of her cheek. “It feels too personal, I’m not sure I feel like sharing it with the world.” She glared at him next. “And stop calling me Becky, this is getting old.” 

“I’m serious, this might be your best work yet,” Luke insisted. “Think about it?”

“I will. Now get out of my office,” Beca muttered.

“You got it, Becky,” Luke teased, easily catching the stress ball Beca tossed at his head, chuckling at her poor attempt. “You should go home and get some sleep.” 

“Yeah. Night.” 

“Goodnight.” 

*

It turned out Sarah had been right. 

When Beca wasn’t expecting it anymore, Chloe called. And she sounded like Chloe. Hope flared within her once more, but she tried not to let it engulf her whole being. While Chloe reaching out was an enormous step, Beca threaded carefully, knowing a lot could happen in five days. 

She wished she had been wrong, but as it pushed 1 pm that Thursday afternoon, it was pretty clear Chloe wouldn’t show. Beca didn’t have her phone number or any other way to contact her. Her heart felt heavy as she headed back to BMLJ for her meeting with Jesse regarding his movie score, and her head was too full of thoughts to completely focus on work. 

“Earth to Beca.” 

Beca hummed, snapping out of her daze. Jesse was staring at her in a mix of concern and curiosity. “Sorry.” 

“Do you wanna do this another time?” 

“No, no,” Beca insisted, straightening up. “I’m okay.” She hated how well Jesse knew her, and heaved a sigh when he gave her that look. “It’s Chloe.” 

“Chloe Beale?” Jesse asked. “She’s in New York?” 

“Yeah. I found her a couple of weeks ago. She’s a stripper at some hyped club in Times Square.” 

“Holy shit, seriously?” 

Beca proceeded to tell him everything over the next ten minutes, Jesse hanging onto every word. “Am I stupid? Trying so hard to help someone who clearly doesn’t want to be helped?” 

“No, you’re not stupid. You’re a softie under that tough exterior and you care deeply about the people you love. Especially Chloe. I was in the front row, remember?” 

Beca grimaced, some of that decade-old guilt surfacing. “Dude…” 

“It’s fine. I’m definitely over all of that, but we both know Chloe is too important for you to just give up. And from how you described her, and that phone call? It sounds like she still cares, but she lost herself along the way and is now in so deep she has trouble coming back on her own. Maybe she just needs to hear that asking for help isn’t giving up, but rather refusing to give up.” 

Those words echoed deep within Beca, and she found herself nodding, filled with newfound energy to fight for this. “I need to go by the club. Tonight. Her boss might kick me out if I show up inside, but maybe I can wait by the back door?” 

“I’ll come with you.” 

“You don’t have to, man. It might be hours before we see her.” 

“That guy sounds creepy, you shouldn’t go on your own.” 

Beca sighed. “Okay, fine. I’ll pick you up around ten.” 

*

Beca felt like they were on a stake-out as they waited in her car hours later, parked across the back alley of the club. Winter had definitely settled in in NYC and waiting in the cold for hours in freezing temperatures didn’t seem like a great plan. 

She texted back and forth with Aubrey, who once more offered to come down, but Beca was concerned Chloe might think they were ambushing her. 

It was pushing midnight by the time a familiar figure stepped out of the building through the side door. Chloe was on her own. 

Beca slapped Jesse’s arm to wake him up. “She’s here.” 

They both stepped out of the car and crossed the street when it was clear, Beca telling Jesse to wait by the corner as she tentatively approached Chloe, slipping her gloved hands inside the pockets of her dark grey wool trench coat. 

She was smoking a cigarette, clad in her glitter dress under an open fleece jacket. Her gaze flickered to Beca when she spotted her, her posture turning rigid. “What are you doing here?” 

There was no bite to her tone but soft curiosity, which reassured Beca further. 

“Can we talk?” 

Chloe glanced over her shoulder towards the door as she nibbled on her lower lip. “Five minutes, then I have to go back inside.”

She met Beca on the other side of the alley, the orange glow of the lamp post over their heads allowing Beca to trace her features. “You didn’t show earlier.” 

Chloe dragged on her cigarette. “I changed my mind.”

“Is that the truth or did someone tell you not to?” She wasn’t dumb; after meeting Chloe’s boss and knowing she was his favorite, she had an inkling the two were somehow involved. And that guy just gave off a crazy possessive vibe. Chloe’s silence was her answer. “Chlo…” 

“It’s more complicated than you think,” Chloe murmured, licking her lips. 

“Then explain it to me,” she demanded, a desperate edge to her tone. 

“Why are you doing this?” Chloe croaked out. “Why won’t you leave me alone?” 

Her question took Beca by surprise, and her mouth moved wordlessly for a few beats. “Because I care about you. And you’re not okay, Chlo. I want to help.” 

“Beca…” 

She thought back on Jesse’s words. “Asking for help is not giving up, Chloe. It’s refusing to give up. And I’m here. You just have to say the word, I’ve got you.” 

Chloe shook her head, closing her eyes briefly. “I’m not--” Her eyes were filled with so much sadness when they found Beca’s that Beca had to remind herself to breathe. “I’m not worth it.” 

Those four words felt like a knife lodging itself inside Beca’s heart. They stole all the air from her lungs and brought tears to her eyes. “What?” She whispered, her voice nowhere within reach as a huge lump formed in her throat. “That’s not true,” she said, with more forcefulness this time around. “It’s not, you hear me?” 

Chloe kept shaking her head. “You don’t know me anymore.” 

“Maybe I don’t know this version of you, but I know Chloe Beale is still in there, somewhere. I heard her on the phone the other day, remember? And I can see her now, under all those layers of sadness and lack of self-worth triggered by outside factors. I know her soul hasn’t changed, deep down. It couldn’t have, because you are the purest, kindest human being there is, and that has to still be somewhere in there.” 

“I’m broken, Bec,” Chloe cried, her eyes filled to the rim with tears threatening to spill over. “I’m a crack addict. I don’t--” A sob spilled from her throat. “I spend all my money on coke and all I know how to do anymore is show my breasts for money.” 

A tear rolled down Beca’s cheek as she reached for Chloe’s hand. “Then I’ll help put you back together. Piece by piece, for however long it takes. Whatever it takes, Chlo. I promise.” 

“Chloe?” 

Both their heads snapped towards the open door, where Marco stood. His features hardened when he saw Beca there, and Beca released Chloe’s hand, looking over her shoulder towards Jesse, who made his way over. 

“What is she doing here?” He spat out as he climbed down the set of steps. 

Chloe visibly swallowed, her fear radiating off her. “She’s just leaving.” 

“No, I’m not,” Beca stated, loud and clear as her eyes shone fiercely. “I’m not going anywhere without Chloe.” 

“You fucking homewrecker,” he muttered, crossing the alley in quick strides. Chloe stepped in front of Beca, as though to shield her with her own body. The anger swirling in his eyes shot a chill down Beca’s spine. “Move, Chloe.” 

Chloe shook her head. “You should go back inside, Marco. Please don’t make a scene, it’s not worth it.” 

Beca had never understood the expression ‘to see red’ until now; until she witnessed Marco backhanding Chloe with so much force she staggered back with a cry. 

Unparalleled rage filled her, the kind of rage she couldn’t control. She stepped forward and raised her fist, clocking him in the face with a mean right hook. She wasn’t sure if the cracking sound came from her knuckle or his nose breaking, the pain in her hand muffled by the adrenaline coursing through her veins. 

Marco stumbled a few steps backward with a grunt, his eyes screwed shut as he covered his nose with his hand. But Beca wasn’t done, taking advantage of his dizzy state and stepping forward to knee him in the balls as hard as she could so he couldn’t walk until they were all safely inside the car. 

“You guys get into the car,” Jesse ushered them, keeping an eye on Marco as he doubled over in pain. 

“Chloe, come on,” Beca coaxed urgently, grabbing her hand and pulling. To her surprise, Chloe didn’t fight her. She seemed absolutely shell-shocked, even once they reached the car, as though her legs were carrying her on their own accord and her brain was miles behind. “Get inside, Chlo.” 

Jesse jogged over a few seconds later and slid behind the wheel without Beca having to ask him, and she climbed in the backseat beside Chloe, relief washing over as the doors locked behind them and the car pulled onto the road towards safety. 

#bechloe #bechloe fic #chloe beale #beca mitchell #pitch perfect fic

[starrysebastians]

Tis the damn season

Summary : On the first post-blip Thanksgiving, you find yourself having to reunite with your parents and your heart is not in it — Sam persuades you to take Bucky with you, and this might be an opportunity for you two to get to know each other. I just heard a ten pound turkey hit the ground and also very strong words. Do you need help? 

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count : 11k 

Warnings : general sadness, mentions of death and strained family relationships, but holiday fluff to make up for it.

A/n : this was written for @wonderlandmind4​'s fall winter challenge, thank you for hosting this! (Got carried away with the word count while simultaneously having no inspiration and writing utter shit I'm genuinely sorry about this?????) 

"God I hate this damn season and everything about it."

The sound of pebbles aggressively kicked by your foot is drowned out by the driver's door being slammed shut. It echoes around the empty street, morning fog still lingering in the air even in the early afternoon. A white cloud escapes your lips as you sigh, emptying all of your lungs' air before breathing in once again, and your eyes follow the shape — up, up, until it vanishes into the air and you are left staring at a familiar bay window. The curtain moves before you can even begin to turn your gaze away and a curse escapes your lips.

"Think they saw us?" His tone is dripping with irony.

Bucky is leaning against the car, arms crossed against his broad chest and his face as blank as your mind when you try to think about why you chose to do this. In the small moment of contemplation you were having, you didn't even notice him walk around the car and stand next to you.

"Nah, impossible," you say deadpan as a hand waves behind the glass. You stare at it silently before you talk again."We can still make a run for it." 

You don't move as Bucky pushes himself off the car and opens the trunk, bags all held in his metal hand. The trunk slams shut and he is already crossing the road leading to the front lawn. 

"I was being serious!" You call out, huffing when he turns around and glares at you. 

Throwing up your arms and letting them fall back at your sides with a heavy sigh, you begrudgingly lock the car and walk towards the house — it seems so much smaller to you now. 

"Of course they put Christmas decorations literally everywhere," you mutter under your breath, suddenly feeling a wave of holiday hatred hitting you at full speed.

Bucky eyes you for a second before knocking on the door, a horrified expression distorting your features when the word wait doesn't get to be voiced out loud. His eyes are more grey than usual, matching the sky, and they hold a twinkle of amusement at the sight of you, mouth open and eyes looking up at the sky as if some sort of alien could possibly appear and whisk you far away from here.

It's intriguing, seeing you this way — in your hometown, nervous about spending Thanksgiving with your parents. Nervous isn't the right word though, because he thinks he has never seen you nervous before ; there are actually a lot of emotions he hasn't seen you display yet. Not that he has a reason to, actually, because he only sees you when you are visiting Sam at their new headquarters, or when you are helping out on a mission. So really, he has only seen you laughing at Sam's jokes, or being angry at armed criminals. And what is left between those two extreme moods are mostly you being silent or passive-agressive — although the passive-aggressiveness is reserved for him, he has noticed.

"Y/N!" Your mother's voice makes you want to wince and you purse your lips, a poor attempt at smiling. Bucky had stepped behind you after having knocked on the door and you are at the forefront of every attack. 

Arms feel strange and foreign around you, a warmth you are not used to anymore. You can't really feel your hands as you awkwardly reciprocate the gesture, patting your parents' back as your gaze rests upon the staircase, so many memories rushing to your mind at once.

"Hi," you say simply, taking a step back and crossing your arms. You clear your throat, leaning closer to Bucky, your arm brushing his. This is what a regular person would do, right? "This is James." 

You don't really pay attention to the way your mother's arms engulf Bucky — poor guy. Their voices are just noise to you as you step around them and walk to the living room. We have been dying to meet you. Y/N has been keeping you hidden from us for so long. We are so glad to have you here, James. Slow and careful steps, eyes taking it all in — the green walls, the fireplace, the old rug and the stains you've made, the painting you've always found disturbing. It smells just the same. You run your hands across every surface, fingers lingering on cold wood.

"It's a good thing that you're here early. I'll show you to your room and you can settle in, rest a little." You turn around lazily, lids heavy with the weight of nostalgia and old visions. Your mother's hand is resting on Bucky's forearm, probably because his shoulder was out of reach, and he looks at you with an unreadable expression on his face. You wonder if he is uncomfortable being touched like this by your parents or if it is something else. "You must have had a long ride." 

Bucky opens his mouth and you cut him off before he can even begin to utter a single word, eyes boring into his with a warning. 

"We did. Exhausting. Lots of traffic." You have faked enough yawns in your life to fool even your own parents — then again, how long has it been since they last saw you? And it takes little effort to conclude that you and Bucky will rest in your room for a while before coming down and helping with dinner preparations. 

The stairs creak under your feet and you smile a little at the sound. Your room smells like old wood, rays of light playing with dust particles around you. An old fluffy carpet, pastel tones and white walls, very few decoration. Some pictures — pictures of artists you used to like, empty postcards, not personal ones. These ones have been taken off the wall years and years ago.

The mattress dips under your weight as you slump down on your bed, fingers moving on their own to stroke a soft blanket. Bucky closes the door behind him, eyes lingering on the almost empty walls. The thought of you and him in your old room and sharing your bed finally crosses your mind.

"M’gonna go for a walk," you suddenly say, getting up from the bed in a swift movement. You don’t walk towards the door, but towards the window instead. 

"O...kay," Bucky drawls out. He watches as you open the window, grunting as it requires some forceful pulling. "Is this a secret code for...I’m gonna jump out the window and die so I can avoid my parents?" 

You snicker, closing your eyes and breathing in as the icy air finally hits your face. Tendrils of hair fly around your features and tickle your skin. You turn around, fingers putting your hair back into place, strands tucked behind your ears.

"I wish," you almost don’t add anything, but Bucky looks so utterly lost and confused as you throw a leg outside that you have to. "I used to sneak out of here all the time. It’s safe, there’s a big ledge and then I land on the guest room's balcony." 

"When are you getting back?" He only asks, pushing his body off the wall and going to sit down on the spot you were occupying just a minute before.

"In time. Don’t worry," this time you’re fully out of the room, feet expertly walking on the ledge. "If they knock just say I’m asleep." You stop in your tracks, voice louder. "And don’t go through my stuff. I’ll know and I’ll kill you."

*

Bucky’s still sitting on the bed when you get back, your hair slightly damp and frizzy from the humidity and the small drizzle outside. Cheeks and nose reddened by the cold and eyes brighter now that you have breathed in some fresh air, that isn't the air from New-York, something purer with a familiar smell. 

"I’ve been gone two hours. Please tell me you’ve got up at least once," you mock, bending down to untie your shoelaces and avoid making mud stains all over the carpet. This floor has suffered enough over the years. 

"No. I’ve been sitting there waiting for you like the good dog that I am." His voice dripping with sarcasm, you roll your eyes. "Told them you were asleep and blocked the door in case they wanted to check on you." 

You raise your head slowly, squinting at him. 

"So...you talked to them?"

He stares back with a bored expression. 

"Yes. I’ve talked to them. I'm spending Thanksgiving with them and sleeping in their house, so I figured maybe I could behave like a civilized person and say hi, you know." You blink. "Plus, I'm your boyfriend." You blink again.

"You didn't have to talk to them so soon. We've got all night," you mumble, now going for your socks.

"I've endured far worse than having a full conversation with someone's parents, Y/N," he chuckles and your smile doesn't reach your eyes.

"Right." 

Bucky looks at you, really looks at you. Hands going through your hair and gripping it a little too tight as you try to weave your fingers through knots and tangled strands — wind still raging outside. Dark shadows under your lashes from having rubbed your eyes in exhaustion and forgetting you had mascara on. Jaw ticking every now and then as your eyes bore into an empty spot, and he doesn't know if you are staring at an actual object or at something that only exists in your mind.

"Have they asked anything about us?" You say, sitting down on the floor and next to your travel bag.

"The usual. How we met, how long we’ve been together…that sort of thing."

Your stomach twists and you look up, alarmed.

"Oh god. What did you tell them? I forgot to make something up. We should have discussed this in the car, I just forgot." You run your hands through your tangled hair, again. "Fuck."

"It’s okay," Bucky’s eyes follow your every move as you rummage through your bag to find another top, fingers pulling on a soft black fabric. "I told them we met through Sam. And obviously they knew who he was — who I was, so I assumed they knew about you too." There’s an interrogation in his voice and you simply nod in confirmation. "So we talked about our jobs, mostly."

"Exciting," you comment sardonically. "And how long have we been dating?"

"Told them we started dating before the snap." 

You freeze, hands still resting on your black top, a slightly sheer and shiny material you thought would be more festive.

"So…definitely more than five years," you start, and he nods in response. "And...that means I visited Wakanda, right?"

He thinks for a second. 

"Right. Yeah."

You hum again.

"Not very practical. I’ve never been to Wakanda."

"Now you have a problem with accuracy?"

You glare at him. 

"No. Just saying. We could have met in New-York. Would have been simpler. That's all."

"Right. Two months ago and it was love at first sight so you’re already bringing me home to your parents — whom you haven’t seen in years. Makes sense." You clench your jaw and he raises a brow, sparkling blue eyes taunting you.

Glaring at him one last time, you turn around and face the wall.

"First of all, we didn’t meet two months ago," you start undoing the buttons of the cardigan you are wearing. "I'd definitely remember if I had only been enduring your presence for two months." He scoffs behind you. 

You pull your cardigan over your head, tossing it somewhere in the room. Some deodorant and you grab the festive top. Bucky stares at your back for a second, soft skin covered in small beauty spots and old scars, defined muscles in action grabbing his full attention. Your neck, the way your hair brushes up your shoulders, the glimpse at your breasts and the curve of your waist — he focuses his gaze on the window instead. An afternoon sky blanketed by dark grey clouds, a promise of rain and a mirror of what he guesses is an internal turmoil.

"And?"

"And what?" You face him again, fitted dark fabric clinging to your body.

"You said first of all. I’m assuming there’s a second part." Brow quirked and smirk slowly lifting the left corner of his mouth, he watches your face fall. 

"There isn’t," he nods, full mocking smile on his lips now. "I actually like using first of all knowing there’s nothing else I have to add. It’s a figure of speech."

He scoffs, shaking his head. 

"It’s not."

"It is now," you stand up, brushing your hands against your thighs. You are now dressed in all black and it looks like you are going on a mission. You are, somehow. "Are you gonna change for tonight?"

"What, is it that ugly?" Bucky looks down at his outfit. 

Fitted blue sweater and black jeans with dark combat boots. You know he had cut his hair right after...everything, but it has grown out again and you’re surprised to find curls. You don’t notice him looking up, instead keeping your eyes fixed upon the blue of his sweater and the way it hugs his chest. He clears his throat and you meet his gaze — curious.

"No, it’s not," you force a smile. "It’s very nice, actually. Brings out your eyes." You sigh, turning around and grabbing your toilet bag and makeup. 

"I can’t tell if you’re making fun of me or not right now," Bucky frowns. Isn’t it part of the job description to know whether people are being genuine or not? Aren’t spies supposed to know that kind of thing? He never can tell with you. Everything you say has that kind of monotonous tone and it's either ironic or deadly serious. 

You let out a light chuckle as you enter the bathroom. "I’m not making fun of you, Barnes. Blue looks good on you." 

You stare at your reflection for a second. Pale skin and dark circles, the remnants of a fight barely visible because your hair is hiding the last remaining scar. The door to the bathroom was left open and you catch Bucky’s gaze in the mirror. 

He busies himself with his bag, going through his stuff and deeming perfume to be the only necessary adjustment to his current state. Fingers scratching an unshaven throat, he calls out your name, meeting your eyes again in the mirror. You only hum.

"Should I call you babe for the weekend?"

Your hand halts mid-air, makeup brush just a few centimeters away from your skin.

"What?"

"Well. We’re selling this thing. What about PDA, that sort of thing?"

You laugh again, and this time it sounds really genuine to him. High and full of disbelief. 

"Didn’t think you were familiar with the term PDA," you shake your head to yourself while he rolls his eyes. "But to answer your question — " you turn to look directly at him, complexion brighter and cheeks rosier. "— call me babe and you won't live to see another day. "

"Why have someone pretend to be your boyfriend if you're just gonna act like he's your friend?"

"Barnes. You think you have to exchange saliva with me in front of my parents for them to believe we’re together? Me bringing you here is already huge, trust me." 

He stares at your back. Dropping the subject. 

"Should I shave?" You don't need to look at him to answer confidently.

"No. I love a man with a stubble."  

You finish your makeup in silence as he lays on the bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking about the dinner that awaits him. He is curious about you and your family. Not a lot of people in this field still have their parents, or at least are being honest about what they do for a living. But mostly he is curious about you, someone he has been getting used to working or training with, but not holding casual conversations or doing simple things.

*

A week earlier 

Bucky raises a brow as Sam answers his phone. It’s eight in the morning and they just returned from their morning job, among fog and drizzle, the sun slowly rising over New York City and filtering through Central Park's trees and half-empty branches. It is not as cold as it should be for this time of the year, but he can still feel the early morning air biting at his face, even inside the apartment. Sometimes after a run he has breakfast with Sam, when they haven’t bickered so much on the way over that Bucky decided to run home instead. 

"I cannot deal with this amount of bad energy in the morning. Come over," Sam laughs and Bucky stares at his mug of coffee while his mind goes though every possibility. 

And when Sam opens the door and you step in, he goes back to staring at his mug, only watching your every move from the corner of his eye. You do look agitated for someone who probably woke up less than an hour ago. 

"I can’t." The new Captain America shakes his head and you grab him by the shoulders, hands looking so small. 

"Sam. I wasn’t asking. This is not an option." 

"We’re having a Thanksgiving dinner at the VA, I can’t ditch the guys," he says and you groan, head thrown back. 

You plop down on a bar stool, the one across Bucky, and you only nod at him as a hello. He rolls his eyes — typical. He is hunched over the kitchen counter, plate of pancakes drowned in maple syrup placed in front of him. You stare as he picks up his fork and knife and starts eating, following every mouthful with empty eyes.

He almost opens his mouth to snap at you before you slightly shake your head and turn to the window to your left. The beginning of fall doesn't feel like it is supposed to — yellows and oranges and reds could be a palette of grey and you wouldn't even notice the difference. It's not the same anymore.

"Why do you absolutely have to bring someone anyway?" You sigh as Sam asks.

"They think I have a long-time partner."

"Why would they think you have a long-time partner when I've never even seen you hold a conversation with a guy?" Bucky comments.

"First of all, you've been gone five years. I'd shut up if I were you." You scowl, lips almost curling up in anger when you whirl around to glare at him. "Second of all, you're not exactly a god in that area either." 

"Well I have been gone for five years, I've got an excuse," he shrugs with a smirk and you eye the table where they are sitting at, pastries and pancakes, fruits and hot beverages, full glasses. "Throw that glass of water at my face and I'll kill you." 

You hold his gaze for a second and purse your lips, eyes turning away as you sit down and rest your elbows on the wooden surface, permanent frown etched on your face. 

"They think they've missed five years of my life, I had a moment of…weakness. Didn't have the heart to tell them I was still single." You look out the window again. The wind howls loudly and a chill runs across your spine even though you're perfectly warm inside. "I think I'm gonna say he died." 

You don't pay attention to the small beat of silence that follows your sentence — a silence that is interrupted by Bucky's fork scratching against his plate. You scowl at him. 

"You're gonna say what now?" 

You shrug at Sam.

"Then I don't have to explain why we broke up. And since I will spend years recovering my mom won't think of bothering me with boyfriend talk for a while." Which seems like a rather logical and practical plan to you, underserving of such funny looks.

"You can't just make up someone and then say they died, Y/N."

"I don't see why not. A lot of people have died recently, I can easily get away with it." The way you speak and shrug, it's all innocent and casual, but your words leave a bitter taste in your mouth.

Sam and Bucky exchange a look and stare at each other for a second as if a simple blink was enough for them to communicate their exact thoughts. You almost feel jealous.

"Just take someone else. I’m sure some of your friends have nothing to do on Thanksgiving."

Something heavy settles on your chest as you think of the people you would have loved to take home to your parents. Tony would have been impressive — albeit older and, well, married with a child. But your parents would have been starstruck. And Natasha would have seduced them right away. One foot into the threshold and they would have swooned at her feet, hanging onto her every word. Steve would have made the perfect boyfriend — the ideal american sweetheart, thoughtful and selfless, not the kind of person who would let you down. Not the kind of person who would leave everything behind. 

When your silence has stretched for a little too long, you clear your throat, tightening your hold around a steaming cup of tea that you assumed was meant for you. Sam is now sitting next to you and you hadn't even realized he had moved while contemplating how lonely your life was. Bucky is staring at you with an unreadable expression and you shrug, again.

"I don't really have anyone else to bring. But that's okay. I'll stick to my story," you give Sam a woeful smile. "They'll think I'm sad and avoid annoying me for the whole evening so really I couldn't ask for a better story." 

You stretch your arm in order to reach the plate of pancakes, but your fingers barely graze it. Bucky silently pushes it towards you and you simply purse your lips. It looks like a smile, right? Drowning your pancakes in syrup just like he did five minutes ago, you sit up straighter and exhale. Then your tone changes. "Anyway."

Sam crosses his arms and nods at Bucky. Blue eyes fixed upon the dark-skinned man’s face, he already knows. 

"Bucky doesn’t have anything planned for Thanksgiving," he starts and you keep chewing. "You should take him. I’m told he’s great boyfriend material." 

You slowly look up, skeptic look on your face. 

"I feel like you could sabotage me at dinner and I do not want that. The whole thing’s annoying enough as it is." 

He shrugs. Too bad. Sam’s eyes are getting bigger and bigger and Bucky sighs, setting his fork on the counter and leaning back. The leather squeaks under his weight and he clears his throat. The noise makes you raise your head and you look at him curiously. 

"I’ll behave." 

You stay silent for a little while as Bucky raises his eyebrows expectantly. Is he better than making up someone and then saying they died? You think about it, and the chance of your mother not leaving you alone and looking at you with pity instead suddenly crosses your mind. Not good. Not your plan.

"Okay," you resign. Your pancakes don’t taste as good as they did before you said yes. Bucky and you have probably exchanged ten full sentences ever since you met, and they weren’t necessarily sweet. It is not that you don’t get along or fight — you work well together, actually. But he’s not your friend either. And sometimes, most of the time, you can’t help but feel something akin to anger build up in your chest when you look at him and see Steve instead. 

*

The table is pretty. Red and green, matching the decorations hung upon the fireplace and all over the house. Candles and elegant wine glasses. Christmas tree already up in the back of the living room, which you can still see from your spot at the table. The flickering lights and glittering garlands are a welcomed distraction to the people actually sitting in front of you, and you can't even remember the last time you had dinner with your parents. So formal.

You notice your mother stealing a glance at you before she fully turns her body towards Bucky. Fuck. You try to shoot her a warning glance but her sweet smile is already into place and there is nothing you can do except watch. You knew appetizers and amuse-bouches and your comments about their incredible taste would not be enough to keep the conversation from turning more personal, but you didn't think it would be so soon.

"You know, this is the first Thanksgiving Y/N is spending with us." Bucky quirks a brow and you scoff in disbelief.

"This isn't true. I have distinct memories of yelling and burnt turkey. Where else would that be?" You deadpan, hand moving towards your glass before stopping mid-air, a single drop of red wine left starring back at you. 

You hold back a groan, eyes flickering between the glass and the bottle. Should you maybe wait before getting a refill and not get any comments from your parents? 

"I meant, this is the first Thanksgiving you're willingly spending with us. You were sixteen last time," your mother's voice holds the same irony, but hers is sad while yours sounds angry. Bucky steals a quick glance at you without ever moving his head, and smiles sweetly at your mother, as if trying to make up for your attitude. "Are you still in touch with your parents, James?"

"Oh god," you groan, hand on your forehead. "Mother." 

You decide that possibly getting a comment about your drinking habits is worth it if drinking means not feeling this crushing weight of shame, embarrassment, and everything else. Bucky looks down at your arm as it emerges right in front of him — you don't spare him a glance, fingers curling up around the bottle and the sound of wine filling up your glass grows higher and higher until you stop. Even this can't drown out the conversation. Your dad's voice echoes from the other room, footsteps drawing closer. 

"Sweetie, I think you're forgetting how old James is."

You don't watch as Bucky probably smiles softly at your dad, then at your mom, and says it's fine. Red wine is pretty when it is swirling in a moving glass — it reminds you of fall, leaves twirling in the wind, the red lipstick you're wearing, but mostly blood.

Your mother is babbling out apologies and reaching out for Bucky's hand across the table and he is being so gentle and patient it makes you want to shake him by the shoulders and yell at him for being so good to them. 

"We only heard from Y/N six months ago, actually." 

"Well, you were gone before, so," you mutter, regretting every single choice that has lead you to this moment. Bucky perks up, eyes going quickly between your closed face and your parents, eyebrows drawing in a compassionate frown. Man, is he good at this. 

"Were you both…taken by the snap?" 

You sigh, turning your head to look out the window while Bucky and your parents talk about their shared experience, finger tracing the rim of your glass over and over again. For some the light around them and their alternate universe was all blue, others say it was a sort of ethereal shade of green. Some have non memory whatsoever of the whole experience and you wonder what it would have been like for you. You think that a minute in a world on literal fire would have been better than five years in the real one. 

Natasha's world is probably made out of purple and red — you hear this is how Vormir looked. Pretty. 

The rain suddenly hitting the bay window snaps you out of your quiet moment of contemplation. It was left slightly open and the sound of the wind blowing through swaying trees lulls your for a second, eyes unfocused. 

Your name echoes around the dining room again and your gaze snaps to that of your mother. 

"What?" You say in a sigh. 

"Nothing!" Her tone is unusually high. "I was just explaining to your boyfriend how we reunited. You visiting us when everyone came back." She looks at Bucky again. "It was a big surprise."

You don’t meet his gaze, instead resting your elbows on the table and nuzzling your face in the palms of your hands. You probably should have kept being a ghost.

"A good one, I bet?" He keeps his tone light.

Your mom goes on about how they have missed you all this time and you resume playing with your glass. And maybe refill it a few times.

"Oh. We saw the ceremony you had for Steve Rogers with Captain...Captain America. It was very moving." Your dad tells Bucky with a compassionate frown and you purse your lips. You almost want to put your hand on Bucky’s shoulder — his hand, his thigh, anything to give him some sort of comfort, but you can’t bring yourself to move your own hand. Everything feels really heavy. 

In your opinion, it’s actually a good thing that Steve died so soon. He had first been a man out of time when he woke up in 2011, and managed to adapt. Even said he wouldn’t go back because the past was the past. Right. But coming back an old man, having lived another full life while your friends remain the same? This wasn’t right, for anyone. With Tony and Natasha gone, you would rather have Steve be gone as well. Can’t really move on if something is still holding you back — now they’re all definitely gone. 

Your chair scratches the wooden floor as you stand up on almost-wobbly legs. 

"M’gonna check on the turkey." Your voice doesn’t even sound like your own and your throat hurts. 

Voices are drown out as you close the kitchen door, back resting against it for a moment. The room is hot even though the window has been left open. You breathe in and out slowly, taking in the smell of pies and spices. You walk towards the window, slowly, taking it all in as you calm down. Nothing is in its usual place. Scattered utensils over every surface, traces of flour and sugar on the table and bottles which haven't been closed. Something makes you jump and it's a pan is overflowing.

There are only a few seconds left on the oven's timer. Pan situation under control, oven gloves on both hands, you think maybe cooking more for yourself would take your mind off things. You almost sigh in contentment as the warmth from the plate spreads through your hands, arms and even radiates through your chest. 

All sorts of pies litter the kitchen table, cinnamon, clove and ginger invading your senses. All of you is consumed by spices and sounds of domestic life and it looks so homey but you can't bring yourself to feel at home. This whole day has been like being in a dream, floating through life, childhood and Thanksgiving memories like an intruder. Seeing yourself move around but not being able to control or truly touch anything.

You see yourself with the turkey between your gloved-hand, red lipstick and pretty outfit hugging your body. You see yourself ten years ago, dressed in a red dress and hair cascading down your back, laughing hysterically as you set a turkey down on a large wooden table, candles lighting up your friends' eyes. Seven years ago, in that deep green jumpsuit — the color of Natasha's eyes, Tony had said all night. Six years ago, in that matching Christmas jumper and soft socks in which you kept slipping on the cabin's floor. Five years ago and the years following the snap when everything was dark and hopeless and you had lost so much but you still had Natasha and Tony and Steve.

Every single bittersweet Thanksgiving memory plays out right before your blurry eyes, like a film. A compilation of every celebration shared between loved ones, your chosen family. And it feels so lonely without your best friends and half of the team you used to be.

Your hands shake as you go to set the plate down on the kitchen table — it's greasy and slippery and your hands are starting to burn so you don't even feel the glove slowly slipping.

Fuck.

It takes a moment to be fully registered.

"Fuck!"

On the other side of the door, Bucky’s cough is enough to cover a string of colorful curses and the cracks and tears in your voice. Your hands are as wet as your cheeks and you drop to your knees, muttering shit shit and shit all over again under your breath.

The plate clatters against the floor as you set it beside the turkey. Too loud. The minute your mother enters this kitchen you are a dead woman. "Shit."

Footsteps draw closer and heavier and you curse again, hands greasy and knees hurting from hitting the tiles. Somehow your fingers won’t grasp the turkey’s correctly and it keeps slipping back to the floor. 

The door creaks open and you whirl around, eyes wide open and a strings of excuses ready. But Bucky stands here, hands in his back closing the door behind him and keeping anyone from seeing what is happening inside the kitchen. Mouth agape and tear tracks probably visible on your face, you finally close your mouth to gulp, turning your back to him and breathing in and out as quietly as possible. 

Which is probably not quiet enough for someone whose ears are more than human. 

You sniffle. Bucky stares at your back, hand still securing the doorknob. He doesn’t really know how to proceed with you, so he takes a few quiet steps forward. He clears his throat.

"I just heard a ten pound turkey hit the ground and also very strong words. Do you need help?"

This is so stupid. 

"Bucky. The turkey’s on the floor. Literally."

"Yeah. I can see that," he eyes you, gauging your expression. Your eyes are dead set on the animal and hands still hovering over it, not quite stable. "It’s okay. They won’t know. I made noise when you dropped it."

"You did?" Your voice is smaller than usual and he bats your hands away from the turkey, grabbing it with his metal hand. 

"Yeah. Coughed so hard your mom almost stood up to keep me from choking." You gape at him. He smiles at your stunned expression and the turkey is back in its plate, looking perfectly normal. Your hands are still greasy and you don't know what to do with them.

"Hey," Bucky's voice is softer than it usually is. Or maybe you never really noticed it was soft in the first place. "Look at me." 

You change positions and rest your back against a cupboard, closing your eyes for a second before re-opening them. Crouching down to your level, he studies your face as you wipe off remaining tears with your sleeve. Flushed cheeks and quivering lips, wet lashes and a crease between your eyebrows. You hold his gaze for what seems like an eternity. There is a kind of intensity, determination in his eyes as he searches into yours. You aren't sure what he is looking for — maybe he is trying to find the right words, but eventually he just sighs and fully sits down in front of you. He is probably annoyed. 

You bite down on your lip as your throat swells again, sudden shame washing over you. Having a meltdown is not something you do. Not when you are on your own, not in front of your friends and certainly not in front of a friend of a friend, even when his presence has become something usual and almost comforting to you as you hide it between rolled eyes and silence. Sometimes it's nice to visit Sam and have a trio again, even if it is not the trio you are used to. When you close your eyes and listen to the voices around you or when your vision is hazy, the mere idea of feeling surrounded is already comforting.

"M'sorry, this is stupid," you mutter, throwing your head back to have it rest against the cupboard. The bang echoes in your ears and Bucky slides a bit closer.

"It's okay," he shrugs. "Take your time." 

He is so gentle in everything that he does. It's in the way he looks at you, eyes searching into yours but never once displaying pity, as if everything was perfectly normal. It isn't to you, but he seems so relaxed and unbothered. The way he speaks softly and expresses nothing but patience and serenity, the way his flesh hand slowly moves closer to your leg and almost hovers above your skin.

You sigh, head banging against the cupboard again, and spread your legs a little bit further. The right one brushes against his limb and he hesitates for a moment. Another look at you and his hand is resting on your calf. The warmth seeps through your black jeans and at this particular moment it comes back to you that you used to love being touched.

"I can't believe I dropped the fucking turkey," you say flatly. Bucky blinks slowly at you, the only proof that he heard you. He doesn't think he should talk and break your train of thoughts right now. "This isn't…what I normally do. On Thanksgiving. I've never spent Thanksgiving here. I mean, after I moved out."

Bucky's fingers move slowly against your leg, a sense of satisfaction washing over him as you start talking. You purse your lips, somehow wanting to keep your mouth shut but feeling oddly relaxed to be sitting on the floor with his thumb brushing over your jeans-clad skin. You look down, eyes following his fingers before focusing on your own, still numbly resting at your side.

"Yeah, that's what your mom was saying earlier," Bucky nods, eying your hands as well. 

On your left, there is this hook with towels hanging from it. His arm is long enough for him to grab one without having to get up. You don't respond, instead staring at the tiles and the space between your legs. You don't seem to notice when he hands you the towel, so he slowly moves his flesh hand towards yours. The loss of warmth makes you look down to your calf, stomach dropping a little when his fingers aren't dancing on your skin anymore. 

"What do you usually do for Thanksgiving?" 

You blink. He grabs your arms, hands sliding from your forearm to your wrist, thumb resting on your pulse point longer than he should. Then his hands are cupping yours, gently turning your palms upwards. There is this small beat of silence and tension where both of you are looking at your almost intertwined hands as if you were not their owners, as if they were moving on their own and you could only watch as this unfolded before your eyes. 

Should he let go? 

"I always spend it with Natasha." Your voice breaks the moment. His gaze snaps up but you're staring into the void again. "We have this tradition." You blink. Once, twice. Slowly, kind of like a cat. "Had. We used to rent a cabin, somewhere remote and snowy, and Tony used to come as well. Well, before he had Morgan. Then we used to come to his house and have this big dinner with him and Pepper, sometimes Clint and his family." 

Your gaze drops to your hand in his, one holding it up and the other wiping the oily substance away. Every movement seems so soft and gentle it makes your brain go fuzzy for a second.

"That sounds really nice." Bucky comments softly, going for the other hand.

"Steve came sometimes," you add, and he quirks a brow in surprise. "When everyone was taken away. Sometimes he held a little something at the VA, but we had him over once or twice." You nod. "It was nice."

Bucky simply nods. Your hands don't shine with turkey grease anymore, and it physically pains him to let go of your hands. For a second he thinks you are about to hold his tighter and keep him from prying off his fingers, but his ears suddenly pick up movement, and the way his posture visibly changes makes you snap out of it. Back straighter, eyes wider, shoulders squared.

"Shit." 

He is quicker than you and stands near the door to tell your mom that the turkey’s ready — you’re on your feet again even if you have to grip the counter’s edge for a second so your legs don't give out under your weight. His body is blocking your mother's view of the kitchen and you can only hear her voice.

"Look at her, making us Thanksgiving dinner with her boyfriend," she tells your dad and you snicker. 

"Look at her making us eat a turkey she dropped on the floor!" You singsong, pressing the heel of your hands to your cheeks as you try to make the red disappear.

"Now this is girlfriend material," Bucky mocks. The door is closed again and he takes a few steps towards you, the turkey being right next to where your hand is set.

You laugh at the absurdity of the situation and he smiles. He is only a foot away from you and you wonder if the warmth you are feeling is real or if it is your imagination, your mind and chest aching for comfort again. Touch is a vicious and dangerous thing when you can still feel it linger on your skin well after it is gone.

Metal hand reaching for the plate and body almost trapping you against the counter while you fix your gaze on anything but him, Bucky freezes for a moment — he meant to grab the plate and turn around, but this does feel intimate. 

"Hey," he breaks the silence and you have to look up. In this instant, you want to take a mental picture and remember exactly how he looks. Light shining into his eyes, illuminated the tip of his perfectly carved nose and cheekbones. Pink lips parted and tongue swiping over them. Could this be nervousness?

You raise your chin, biting the inside of your cheek and fighting to maintain eye-contact. He is so close that you cannot help but being distracted by his smell, the way your chests would touch if you just pushed yourself off the counter, the way you want to feel cornered and caged if it means resting your cheek against his chest and having his arms around you.

Fuck.

"You gonna be okay?" 

You wonder if his senses can pick up your internal turmoil. If he can hear your heart hammering against your ribcage, the quickened and shaky breaths. You fold your arms and hug yourself, a poor attempt at gaining back some control over yourself.

"M'fine," you mutter. He doesn't look convinced and still hasn't moved. You lower your head, the remnants of previous haircut mistakes and bangs falling over your eyes. "Really."

"Yeah?" 

You look up again, mustering up a smile.

"Yeah. A little meltdown can work wonders for a girl." 

He chuckles and you have never wanted to kiss anyone this badly in your entire life, but you blame it on the emotional rollercoaster this day has been. You almost flinch as Bucky raises his hand but exhale as his fingers graze your cheeks, moving your hair out of your eyes.

Your mother calls your name and you sigh. Bucky brings out the turkey and you set the side dishes on the table, carefully avoiding the candles and almost squishing a green garland. It's a perfect picture, you and him stepping out of the kitchen in tandem and smiling down at your parents as they congratulate you on the turkey — this is probably a picture you had in mind as a child. Something out of a romantic comedy.

You sit down and Bucky's hands linger on your shoulders, thumbs stroking exposed skin and your neck. You raise your head, leaning back in your chair to meet his gaze. Should you put your hand on his? Should you smile and gaze lovingly at him — isn't that what you are already doing? He bents down, softly kissing your cheek, lips ghosting over your ear.

"Let's sell this thing, shall we?" 

* 

You step out of the bathroom, silky pajamas hugging your figure and wet hair sending shivers down your back. You sigh heavily, feeling the need to seek warmth but not having enough energy. Your arms are at your sides and your bare feet have a hard time moving.

Bucky stares at the carpet as drops of water trickle down your hair and slowly form a dark spot at your feet. His gaze travels back to your face, eyebrow quirked. You look absolutely drained, with your lips slightly parted and the way you blink slowly, as if your eyelids weighted tons.

"If they ask us to stay for lunch tomorrow," you begin, slowly approaching the bed. "Please say we have a mission." 

Bucky gives you a small nod. You sit down on the bed or rather let your body drop unceremoniously and lay down, hands on your stomach and eyes glued to the white ceiling. The mattress moves with Bucky and you hear him rest his back on the bed's head. Creaky wood that won't stop making noise.

"Well," Bucky starts, looking down at your form. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" 

You slowly peel your gaze off the ceiling, body and face still as your gaze moves to his face, his eyes already on yours.

"I don't have the strength to answer you right now." 

His shoulder shake and so does the bed. You groan.

"Can I ask you a question?" 

"No."

"Why did you decide to contact your parents after all this time?"

"Did you hear me say no?" 

He gives you a half shrug and you sigh, rolling so you are lying on your stomach, elbows propped up on the mattress. Bucky knows this means you are going to talk, and he sits up straighter, intrigued.

"Everyone was gone," you say simply, fingers drumming mindlessly on your cheek. "It was…utter and complete chaos everywhere. You're lucky you didn't get to see it. Just to go out in the streets, enter a coffee shop and see the look on people's faces…" You don't finish your sentence, eyes fixed upon Bucky's torso but mind miles away from your room. His shoulders sag as he takes in your expression. "And I felt lucky I still had Natasha, and Steve. And Tony. I was so lucky compared to others — sometimes I helped Steve out with his therapy meetings and I just…hearing about other people's loss…I wondered about my parents, somehow. I drove all the way up here and the house was so silent and empty, I just knew." You shrug, lowering your gaze to numbly observe the patterns on your sheets. "We've never been close, and I thought I didn't care about them the way I've always felt like they didn't care about me, but when I realized they weren't here anymore…they're still my parents, you know?" Not expecting you to look up at him, Bucky is at a loss for words when you bite your lip and go silent as if you were waiting for an answer.

You swallow thickly.

"So when everyone came back, I had this urge to make sure they did too. And now we're here," you purse your lips. "Not sure this was a good idea." 

Sometimes you think contacting them was a mistake. Yes, you felt an incommensurable sense of loss, standing in this empty house with the wooden floor creaking underneath your feet, dust flying and twirling around you, your reflection staring mockingly at you whenever you passed a mirror. Too late. Visiting your childhood home was the moment it all came rushing back to you ; the moment your mind finally caught up with reality and you simply crumbled. Orphan, half of your friends turned into dust, a whole world of shades of grey and not an ounce of hope. But spending Thanksgiving here doesn't give you the comfort or closure you thought it would. Being here and feeling like a stranger in your own home, bringing a fake boyfriend, having to sit through celebrations when there is nothing left to celebrate on this earth for you.

"They looked happy to see you."

Your chest tightens for a moment. It's somewhere between guilt and longing.

"Yeah, I guess," you give him a half shrug. Your face is resting right next to his thighs and you stare for a moment. Another barely perceptible movement and the headboard squeaks again. You almost let your face fall on his thighs when heavily groaning. He laughs and it gets worse.

"Well at least it's gonna be easy to convince them we really are a couple, right babe?" He says, deadpan. You look up at him through your lashes, sly smile on your face, a force of habit. Striking blue eyes staring back at you, perfectly sculpted face and a smirk on his plump lips. It would be so easy to pretend this is a normal scene from a domestic life. The creases around your mouth disappears as you blink a sort of haze away.

The moment passes and you busy yourself with the laptop you brought, while Bucky stalks to the bathroom. The sound of water running manages to soothe you, weight on your chest slowly dwindling and breaths coming in lighter. It's a white noise lulling you to sleep. You lazily brush your hair and slide into bed, covers pulled to your chin and body stiff as the cold from the sheets seep into your bones for a long moment. 

The shower curtain rattles, bottles clink against the sink and water runs again with the sound of a toothbrush. You turn on your side, chin tucked to your chest and arms under your pillows, scared to stretch out your legs and meet a biting cold again. The bathroom door opens and you relish the very small amount of warm steam reaching you.

The bed dips and you keep your eyes closed.

"You sure you don't want me out of your bed?" You don't know how many times he has asked this question. You only hum, too tired to voice your thoughts out loud. You feel the covers being lifted and shiver — could it be his thigh brushing against yours?

His mere nearness already warms the bed up and you silently thank a higher presence for the super soldier serum.

"God you're like a personal heater," you mutter, faced squished against your pillow, body moving closer to his on its own until warmth has engulfed you and you can finally extend your legs, feet reaching the end of the bed.

"Mh, I get that a lot," you feel his chest rumble next to you and you hum in response, something between contentment and an attempt to hide a blooming sensation in your chest.

You get closer again, face now pressed against his arm, cheek to warm and toned flesh. It doesn't take long for his arm to move, a frown etched on your features before they ease up again as he guides your face to his chest. An arm snaking around your shoulders and holding you closer, a chest rising and falling with deep and even breaths, a back and forth that rocks you.

You can't even remember the last time you felt this at peace. This warm and safe, arms secured around you like a cocoon, the smell of your childhood and his cologne mixing together. And it hits your half-asleep brain that you had craved this all along, all those years of darkness and loss.

"M'sorry," you murmur, your lips moving against his chests and your words barely discernible. "Just really need this right now." 

His fingers linger on your back, hand sliding down to rest on your waist. Squeezing, thumb stroking your skin, fingers tracing random shapes. You shift, your own arm laying on his stomach, almost hugging him like a pillow or a big stuffed animal. Fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt like a reflex, legs tangling with his.

"It's okay." His voice is smooth, quiet. "Me too."

*

Eyes bleary and squinting to adjust to the light, you hold on to the banister as you wobble down the stairs. Voices echo around the living room and you frown. It's only eight.

You still as Bucky's laugh reaches your ears and hurry down the remaining steps. The morning light shines through the windows, surprisingly blue and clear skies facing you. Red and green lights dance around the living room's walls, reflections from the Christmas Tree's decoration. Lips parted in awe, you linger for a moment. The atmosphere is different from last night, it feels lighter. It's not just that the downpour has been replaced by a blue sky and what seems to be a perfect fall day — ice cold but the sun still shining. You feel lighter.

"Hey." You whirl around. You didn't notice Bucky approaching you. Coking his head to the side, he looks at you with an unreadable expression. "You planning on spending the day standing here?" 

"Tempting," you give him a half shrug, and he extends his flesh hand towards you, palm up and inviting.

"We made breakfast," he says as you rest you put your hand in his warily. 

"We?" 

The smell of bacon hits you when you enter the dining room, a table full of pancakes and pies greeting you. Steaming cups of coffee, a teapot — Bucky discreetly tugs you closer to him, hot breath on your cheek.

"You prefer tea in the morning, right?" It is whispered as not to draw suspicions towards the fact that he knows nothing about you, but it takes you a moment to recover from the initial surprise of the gesture. You nod numbly, eyes fixed upon your intertwined fingers. When did you say it was okay for PDA? 

The conversation flows more easily in the morning, the sight of a table this impressive and Bucky's touch lifting your spirits. You think life could be this easy all the time. This tranquil and domestic, a good night's sleep with someone and pancakes waiting for you in the morning. You smile as you talk about some of your most confusing missions, as you and Bucky tell stories about Sam. Albeit a bit pained, but it's something.

Leaving your parents after breakfast isn't as satisfying as you thought it would be, and you give warmer hugs than what you gave last night.

You sigh when the driver's door closes, sinking into your seat and resting your forehead against the cool window. The landscape is an orange blur, the sound of the wind blowing around the car loud enough for the radio to be useless. When you are in the city again, the car slows down and you are stuck in traffic. Bucky's hand reaches out to switch the radio on and you turn slightly in your seat, body leaning towards his.

"I was a bitch to you," you state without any warning and he snorts, looking at you with a confused expression. "When we first met." 

"Oh," his raises his brows high, as if in absolute agreement.

"You just reminded me of Steve," you say softly. "And I hated him for leaving. Still do, sometimes." you think, frown etched on your features. "Most of the time. But it wasn't fair to you and I'm sorry." 

He turns his head towards you, a simple nod to you. You fold your hands on your lap, chest lighter now that you have said it out loud. He clears his throat and you look at him again. Sun reflecting on his sparkling eyes, a smile pushing its way onto his lips. Genuine, soft. You find yourself returning the gesture naturally — no pursed or tight lips, no physical pain in your cheeks. 

"And this was nice," you add quietly.

*

"It's not that we haven't talked," you roll your eyes, nursing a drink of champagne and crossing the bal room with Sam at your side. Voice louder than usual, eyelids and lips glittering, your heels click against the floor and you side step dancing couples. 

It's quieter near the Christmas Tree. Well, near the bar.

"So you have talked?" Sam sets his empty glass on the bar counter and asks for a refill with a simple tilt of the head. Perks of being Captain America, surely. You lean against the cold marble, in-between the stools, huffing.

"No, we didn't," you repeat for what is probably the third time.

"Man, this isn't going anywhere," Sam shakes his head, eyes skimming over the crowd. You do the same.

"That's what I told when you insisted on starting this conversation, Wilson." 

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever," he grumbles before taking another sip of his drink. You give in with a half shrug and a sigh.

"We just haven't had a reason to, Sam, don't read too much into it," you say casually. "No missions, no meeting…" 

"Right. And the fact that you haven't been to our headquarters in a month."

"Well, as I said. No mission, no meeting," you raise your eyebrows. "You think I'm gonna drive all the way up there to say hi and prove you that everything is fine?" 

"I was expecting this kind of commitment to the team, yes," Sam sighs dramatically and you return to your bubbly drink.

The song switches to Mariah Carey and a chorus of cheers erupts from the room, almost making you physically wince. Hands in the air, feet jumping up and down and literally making the room shake, every vibration felt deep in your chest.

"Now this is a song I haven't heard today."

Sam snickers.

"Here we go. Was wondering when you were gonna ruin the mood." 

"Hey!" You head whirls around, mouth open. Brown eyes twinkling with amusement, eyebrows barely raised, the kind of satisfaction you get when you want to say I told you so. "You have to admit that this is getting redundant." You are definitely not to blame here — surely more there are more than three Christmas songs in the world?  

"It's Christmas." 

"Yes, I'm painfully of aware." Someone falls on the dance floor and you judge them silently. You and Sam probably look intimidating as both of you are leaning against the bar, glass in hand and chins raised. "Plus it took me more than an hour to…" You trail off, a sudden glint drawing your attention to the entrance of the room, right across from the bar. "…get here." 

Sam follows your line of sight. Through a flurry of red figures, glittery and twinkling dresses twirling around with every move and laughter mixed with animated chatter and pop songs, a dark figure parts the crowd and makes its way towards the bar. Something akin to slow-motion happens in your brain. Completely unprepared for something you had been thinking about for days. Not days. Weeks.

Your chest rumbles with the rhythm of the song, matching each beat of the drums. It helps you cover up the fact that your heart is violently pounding against your ribcage and that he can probably hear it. Hell, Steve could probably hear it from his grave — this thought makes you blink, a semblance of composure coming back to your face.

"Hey man!" Sam happily greets his friend, patting him on the back. "Happy Christmas Eve." His hand lingers, squeezing Bucky's shoulder. His gaze is warm and the silent eye-contact you two share when your eyes travel above Bucky's shoulder is a way of wishing you the same. Playful face merging into something sincere. Jolly songs contrasting with the sad look in your eyes and the woeful smiles you three have plastered on your face. Civilians like to call this night the first Christmas into a normal life again. Their old life.

"Hi," Bucky greets you, a little breathless, and you wonder if he took the stairs to get here. 

Sam is whisked away by a politician and you remember that he is here as Captain America and therefore is on duty. Champagne has never looked prettier, swirling in your glass as you try to focus on anything else but the man ordering a drink beside you.

"How have you been?" He asks, mimicking your exact posture and taking a first sip of a scotch. You cast him a side glance. There's a scratch above his left eyebrow and you wonder why no one told you about this mission or called for backup. 

"You mean, have I lost my goddamn mind in the kitchen again and thrown a poor animal on the floor?" He chuckles. Your eyes travel down his face and his midnight blue suit for a moment. Too long, and he notices. "Nope. I'm good." 

He nods, then tilts his head to the side. His once-over is even less subtle than yours and you bury your face into your glass, not knowing where to look anymore. Shit. This was easier when you just bumped into him on your way to see Sam or simply shared missions with him — no small talk, no information on each other, nothing. 

Thanksgiving was supposed to be unpleasant. And it was — bleak, gloomy, melancholic. But he wasn't.

"Care to dance?"

Your head snaps up towards him. You laugh, the rest of your drink downed in a second. Bucky stands up straighter — finishing a drink means being freeing oneself from having to hold a glass, right?

"I don't dance, Barnes." 

"You don't?" You shake your head, already lifting a hand to motion for another drink. He steps around the bar stool that was previously keeping you apart, the smell of cologne and aftershave hitting your senses. 

"I don't. Certainly not on Christmas songs." 

He turns his head towards the crowd, chest rising as he breathes in deeply. The room does look pretty. Golden, red and green. Trees and fake wrapped gifts on the floor, fairy lights cascading down the windows and giving a kind of ethereal glow to everything and everyone standing here. It makes looks softer, eyes lighter. A couple captures everyone's attention ; skillfully dancing on every single song and adapting to every tempo. Their smiles are so bright that your lips quirk up a little without you even noticing it. It is radiant and contagious and for a moment they are all you can see.

A small gasp gets stuck in your throat when Bucky steps in front of you, breaking your focus on the dance floor. How did he get so close? 

He offers you his hand, palms up and inviting. You remember how they felt on Thanksgiving.

"Bucky, I…really can't dance," you shake your head, lips parted.

"C'mon. No one cares."

He doesn't wait for you to place your hand in his, but simply grabs it, fingers naturally intertwining as if they had been designed to fit together. You open your mouth to argue, but all that escapes your mouth is a chuckle. An incredulous and surprised chuckle — almost a giggle but it hurts to admit it, eyes flitting over the crowd and the people surrounding you. Are they looking? Are they seeing what you are seeing? 

He tugs on your hand and it is a slow song that echoes around the room, two bodies felling in step and gliding across the glittering floor. You hide your surprise at the way he leads you effortlessly — you had heard stories about his days in the forties and you suppose this is what he mastered to woo the dames. A warm hand in yours and the other firmly placed around your waist, drawing you close to his chest. You wrap an arm around his neck, fingernails tingling his skin.

"Is this Bing Crosby?" You ask lazily, body swaying slowly.

He hums.

"Uh. Better than Mariah Carey," you state quietly, almost in his ear. Hot breath on his skin. He huffs, quiet laughter and crinkles by his eyes. Out of all the things you could say to him right now, this is what you do.

"I'm glad you came," he says softly and you look at him curiously. He gives you a half shrug as you slowly twirl in his arms. "We haven't seen you in a while. Didn't want you to be alone today." 

Your stomach twists when you are pulled into his arms again, your hand hesitantly cupping the back of his neck. You had indeed considered staying in bed and possibly crying in front of a romantic comedy, as cliché as it sounds. Completely immerse yourself in a universe that isn't yours and whose characters you do not have to grieve for. Vicariously feeling the Christmas Spirit of others.

But you wanted to be with your friends, as painful as it is to be reminded that your circle is half empty. Sam has poured his heart into this party — a tribute to Tony, a bit of giving after having taken so much, money raised for people in need and an opportunity to reunite and share something as a group again. You admire his strength and will and it is no surprise to you that he gets to carry the Captain America mantle. Someone whose heart knows no limit and who would do anything for his friends.

You smile wistfully.

"It's a nice party," is the only thing you say, small shrug accompanying a casual tone.

"It is," Bucky nods. Eyes going over every decoration again. It is a nice feeling — swaying in his arms, warmth and cologne engulfing you whole and caging you from the outside world. His skin is so soft against your fingers and you want to nuzzle your face into his neck, completely hide away and feel nothing but him.

You shouldn’t let yourself feel this way for someone you might lose, but you can’t help but relish the feeling of being held again. His hands cannot mend the pieces of your broken heart but they can contain them and keep you from crumbling down. 

Disappointment probably shows on your face and your tired smile when the song ends and he steps away from you — hand still lingering on yours. As if reading your thoughts, Bucky casts a glance behind him and motions towards the exit with his chin. You follow his line of sight, then eye the crowd around you. He is right, no one cares.

Trailing behind him with flitting glances around you, hand grabbing a hold of his suit as if you could squeeze fabric tighter than flesh, you don’t notice when he stops and you bump into his back.  The idea of leaving this party with him is taking up all your thoughts — no clear ideas but a definite feeling, an urge to find the comfort of his arms again.You almost don't look up as a string of cheers and laughter erupts around you. Way too close to you to be a simple coincidence. Bucky's hand tightens around yours. Green stares back at you.

Oh.

No.

Mistletoe. 

Should you shake it off with a good laughter that makes it look like this is extremely funny but he is just a friend? Should you pretend not to see it even though your eyes are boring holes into it? 

Bucky has already made up his mind.

Warm flesh squeezes your hand while cool metal rests on the small of your back, encircling your waist and pulling you close so unexpectedly that you almost stumble into his arms. The warmth emitted from his body is already melting away any smart quips or observations you had ready to get out of this. Completely shattering your resolve not to melt into his arms. You can only feel him. His arms around you, flesh hand moving up your arm, caressing and squeezing your shoulder until it is resting on your neck, fingers delicately holding your chin. You don't resist when he lifts it, eyes meeting his through your thick lashes.

This is the opposite of the quiet and intimate moment you were thinking about when leaving the room. Far from discreet touches but right among flashing lights, booming music and expectant stares. You’ve never had a kiss under the mistletoe and this is way too cheesy and holidays-like.

But he leans forward and his lips are on yours. Softly. Delicately. It lasts a split second. It satisfies the crowd and it seems like a peck that could happen to both lovers and friends but it leaves you aching for more.

You look up in a daze when he pulls away, lips parted and eyes wide. You blink it all away and plaster a tight-lipped smile on your face when you fake-bow to clapping strangers, and it takes all the willpower in the world to hold yourself upright. 

The corridor is almost empty, save late-comers jogging towards where you are coming from or drunken people escaping the warm and almost suffocating air of the party. You have absolutely no idea where you are going, numb legs carrying you all the way to a remote corner. Your back hits the wall — his arm around you softens the impact.

Who instigated the second kiss? You feel like he met you halfway, or maybe you stayed rooted to your spot like a deer caught in headlights, pulse probably heard from a miles away. You can only focus on the softness of his lips on your skin, tender kisses on your neck and on the corner of your mouth. Eyes fluttering shut, fingers making their way through his hair and tugging, cheek to cheek and chest to chest — time has stopped.

You only open your eyes halfway when he pulls away for air, blurred vision and pounding heart. You feel his hot breath on your face when he chuckles breathlessly.

"Still hate this damn season?" 

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes one shot #christmas one shot #Wonderland4SeasonalWC

[romiithebirdie]

Epilogue for the Lost - Chapter 2

Present day.

Inko Midoriya entered her apartment, softly closing the front door behind her after dropping her shopping bags in the hallway. A harsh breeze slapped her bare arms and she shivered, quickly removing her shoes and padding into the living room to close the window that she hadn't realised she'd left open.

Cheerful music rang out in the direction of the kitchen and she immediately followed the sound up towards one of her kitchen worktops. Within seconds, Inko slid her arm across the space and picked up the mobile device with a questioning frown.

UNKNOWN CALLER

Timidly, she pressed the Answer button and slowly put it to her ear;

"Midoriya Residence, may I ask who's calling?"

Her response came from an intangible grunt followed by loud rustling, like the caller was fumbling through plastic liners. She sighed, "Hello?"

"Y-yeah," the audio was fuzzy, almost like they had a bad signal connection from wherever they were calling from. "I'm looking for an Inko Midoriya."

"Speaking."

"I see."

Inko huffed, switching her phone into her other free hand; "So? Is there something you needed or-"

"You were his wife, right?"

And her instinct to slam the phone down at that moment faltered and she immediately was hit with old painful memories.

"E-Excuse me?" her voice was hushed, like she'd been winded by those words alone.

"Your husband. Hisashi Midoriya."

"Who is this?"

"Just somebody who wanted to talk."

"My husband hasn't lived here," since he disappeared, "for a while. I'm sorry if you were trying to reach him, I can't help you."

With that brief explanation, she immediately ended the call and dropped it on the table top. With a stifled gasp, she clamped a hand over her mouth and leaned over one of the kitchen chairs as if she were in pain.

Emotional pain.

She really needed Izuku right now…

UNKNOWN CALLER buzzed across her phone screen for the second time and a shiver ran from the back of her neck all the way down to her spine. Was someone trying to pull a sick prank or something? She had no clue.

Reluctantly, she pressed Answer once again and whispered an anxious, "Hello?"

"You know you cry way too much, right? Same old Inko."

Crying?

She gingerly touched her cheek and immediately felt the wetness. Then it dawned on her what this person had just said and her breath hitched in her throat.

"Who is this?" she repeated, firmer this time while brushing the back of her arm against her face. Somebody had been watching her, the problem was she had no idea where. "Listen," her voice was jittery yet she ignored it, "I don't know how you got my number or where you've seen me but if you don't stop right now, I will be calling the authorities."

"Call them," the voice cackled gruffly on the other side of the line, "besides, who said anything about having seen you? You shouldn't leave your window open when you leave the house."

The window.

It had been open when she'd returned home from her errand.

She lowered the phone from her ear, heart racing against her chest while her ears picked up every tiny sound coming from the floorboards, thumps against the walls from the neighbours and a slow ticking sound coming from the kitchen clock.

The front door was only along the hallway. Almost taunting her with the reflective rays of the sunshine outside.

Tick, tick, tick.

It felt like she was stuck in slow-motion, her legs trembling violently under the assumption there might be an intruder hiding somewhere in her home right now…

"You've gone quiet."

Was that this person's plan? To lure her outside?

"I-I…" Inko choked on her own words.

"Don't you like talking to me?"

No. I really don't.

"I like talking to you."

Inko closed her eyes and bit her lip before shaking her head.

"After all, we're practically family."

                                                .-.-.-.-.

"You serious, Deku?" came the sneer of a young boy with spiky ash-blond hair. Behind him stood two other boys around the same age as they towered over a smaller boy with messy green locks. "You really think a weakling like you can do a fucking thing against the three of us?"

"He was crying, Kacchan!" the green-haired boy pleaded, wiping furiously at his tear-stained cheeks. "You can't keep acting like a bully; it's wrong!"

"The hell did you just say to me?!"

It was the wrong choice of words.

Something Izuku had quickly learned when dealing with Katsuki Bakugou, a boy that used to be his friend. However, when Izuku confided to the other child about the secret that greatly upset his parents, he was met with complete scorn and eventually became the class outcast.

Defenseless Izuku, the freak that saw dead people and nobody wanted to be friends with.

However, Katsuki's bullying tendencies halted after one of his friends, Tsubasa, vanished without a trace. The fiery boy grew more withdrawn and unsure, keeping Izuku at a great distance rather than choosing to torment him.

Katsuki Bakugou eventually moved away from Musutafu to live with his grandparents after a gruesome event that deeply traumatised him;

Early one morning, the remains of Mitsuki and Masaru Bakugou were found along the coastal side of Dagobah Beach. The media kept a lot of the details brief due to the case's sheer horrifying nature.

Masaru Bakugou was found with his throat slit and hands cut off while Mitsuki Bakugou was covered in various stab wounds with her tongue removed. The forensics and autopsies had ruled out that they had been dead for quite some time due to the fact that their corpses were spread with heavy decay.

Izuku only remembered fragments of the dreadful news; his father being more reserved while his mother broke down over discovering their demise. From what he remembered, his mother and Auntie Mitsuki had met in Junior High and had remained friends in their adult life.

Despite Katsuki's ill-treatment of him, Izuku still found himself feeling concerned for the louder boy. Sadly, Izuku never got a chance to try and rekindle his friendship with the youngest Bakugou due to him immediately being sent away.

It was something that Izuku still found himself longing for many years later in his teenage years…

"Hi, everybody. My name is Izuku Midoriya and I'm visiting today to talk about things that have affected me since I was very young."

And I'd rather be anywhere else than here right now…

Izuku forced himself to smile, despite the overwhelming feeling of nerves tugging away at his chest that made him feel more like a wooden puppet than an actual person at this point. It was pretty on point, he'd been rehearsing his greeting for a while now anyway...

"Thank you, Midoriya, please take your seat," one of the group therapy leaders smiled, sitting forward while hunched over her thick clipboard in an extremely awkward manner. Izuku bared his teeth in another forced grin before sitting back down on his plastic chair, trying to ignore the burn of embarrassment scorching his freckled cheeks.

While various names chorused amongst each other, Izuku chose to tune out. His emerald green eyes focused completely on a particular spot on the floor tiles as voices blended into one incoherent fuzzy noise. Almost sounding like television static.

Therapy had been his mother's idea. Izuku hadn't been thrilled at the proposition but he knew how much it would mean to her if he tried it out. That was several months ago.

They had attempted medication and counselling in the past too, thus why Izuku was understandably growing more and more tired with it. It was the same old story to him.

While he had grown up seeing things that would be… odd to most, the idea for counselling had nothing to do with the invisible people that clung to him in desperation. They still talked to him, though Izuku often found himself tuning out more nowadays.

Maybe he was just crazy?

That would explain why his mother was always sad and his father cut them off years ago.

Perhaps it was the stress of dealing with a problem child?

Izuku shook his head, chiding himself internally for even daring to consider such a ludicrous possibility;

Both of his parents loved him.

His mother was still grieving her husband's disappearance, it had nothing to do with Izuku's quirky little ability to see dead people…

"Get a grip, Izuku," he muttered to himself.

"Uh, is everything alright over there, young man?" one of the counsellors blinked, everybody's attention solely on the greenette as he flushed in humiliation.

Add talking to yourself to that pile of issues too, Izuku thought miserably to himself while the group therapy session came to end. The second that the adults dismissed the teens, Izuku snatched up his bag and bolted for the exit door like his life depended on it. Luckily, it was a short ride on the bullet train back to the city of Musutafu's Tattooin Station and then a ten minute walk back to his apartment complex.

As he made his way along his neighbourhood street, he noticed a large number of people crowding around the apartment blocks, some people were filming while police were running around and taping the area off to the civilians.

What in the…

While he craned his neck to try and see what was happening, his shoulder bumped against another member of the public and they made a short, restrained grunt as they were pushed to the side.

"S-Sorry, are you-" Izuku froze, emerald orbs meeting an intense crimson that sparked an old feeling of anxiousness and bad nostalgia.

"It's fine," the guy muttered, lowering his head before turning on his heel and striding in the opposite direction of the scene.

That was odd, Izuku frowned, watching the guy disappear amongst the sea of people flocking around the teen while using their phones to record.

Paramedics dressed in green appeared from the stairwell of the apartment complex and rushed across the lawn, pushing a stretcher on wheels. Izuku carefully pushed his way towards the front of the crowd and immediately froze in complete horror.

On the stretcher was his mother.

Thick gauze and towels were drenched in red that could only have been blood and she had an oxygen mask over her face. Izuku's vision suddenly swam and he clung to the nearest stranger, gasping for breath.

Police, paramedics and people were surrounding the entire vicinity. Realisation smacked Izuku as hard as a blunt object striking him across the face.

Holy shit. Who had done this?

His mother was being taken away on a stretcher covered in blood. He honestly didn't understand what was currently happening. Why was this happening?

The last that Izuku saw of his kind, gentle mother before the paramedics closed the ambulance doors were three random letters that had been carved into her arm;

A.F.O

#bnha fanfiction #ao3 bnha #my hero academia fanfiction #bnha #dfo #dad for one #afo is hisashi midoriya #inko midoriya #izuku midoriya #epilogue for the lost #my writing

[slashersins]

Enjoy something I probably won’t finish .

It’s quiet . The volume off in your car as you drive through back roads . Music didn’t seem to help your mood . In fact , it seemed to worsen it . Happy sounds tore at you as you remembered flicking moments when you had thought you were loved . Sad songs cut deep as you remembered the way he had so easily left , telling you he couldn’t care less how he hurt you . How he’d never loved you . The emotions had swarmed in your head and you’d done your best to refuse to cry . You hated to cry , hated how your voice got thick and dry and overly wet at the same time . Hated how splotchy and heated and red your face became when you tried to hold back tears . Hated how it felt to have your eyes so raw , being so exhausted afterwards . So the music was turned off only ten minutes into your drive .

You weren’t sure how long you’d been driving . Crossing from Texas into Louisiana an hour in , and it’s been miles and hours since then . You had no where to go . Just wanting to get away . And you really should have been paying attention to how much gas you had . Frustrated , you let out a scream , hitting your steering wheel as your car stuttered to a halt , barely able to pull off backroads gravel and half way into a shallow ditch . You just couldn’t do anything right . Couldn’t keep the love of a man , couldn’t even get the damn man to love you . And you couldn’t keep track of your gas and now you stuck in some back roads miles from the last town and who knew how many to the next .

You didn’t see the point in getting out just yet . The sky was starting to light up with the red and orange and purple hues of the sunset . And you had enough sense in you to know walking a lonely country road at night wasn’t the smartest thing to do . At least it was pretty , wherever you were . Somewhere in Louisiana . The trees tall and rich with green leaves . The road curving and familiar , so much like back home . At least you could spend the next few minutes enjoying how the sun set before it got dark and you were forced to sleep in your car the rest of the night .

The lights of a truck had you squinting awake from your restless slumber . Curled up in your front seat , you managed to shield your eyes , sitting up . Looks like someone found you . A yawn left your lips , the concern that should have flooded you pushed aside as grogginess made itself a home . Without a cautious thought , you opened your door , got out , wrapped up in an old sweater you were using as a makeshift blanket .

Suppressing a yawn and failing as you put the back of your hand to your mouth , you gave a lazy wave , eyes still adjusting to the bright headlights and the dark all at the same time . For a moment you think no ones going to get out of the truck , and you tilt your head some before turning to get back into your car .

“You okay , ma’am?” The sound of a truck door being slammed shut draws your attention back . And the southern drawl is almost comforting to hear after being stuck out in the middle of nowhere . You give a sheepish smile and shift on your feet , looking as embarrassed at the situation as you felt despite trying not to show it .

“I ran outta gas . Kinda stuck out here . But I figured it’d be safer to walk during the day than at night so I’m camping out.” The man moves closer . Tall , oil stained coveralls and a red jacket to keep himself warm .

“Well ain’t that all kinds of unlucky.” He laughed some , looking over the car and then you . Giving a jerk to his truck . “If you wanna keep enjoying your little sleep over I won’t bother ya . But if you’d rather sleep on a bed I don’t mind taking ya into town . Ambrose ain’t too far from here . And a bed might be better than a car seat .”

You blink , the sudden offer alluring . You really didn’t have a lot of options . And a bed would be better than sleeping in the car . Plus if you were close to town that’d mean you could get gas for your car and stock up on some snacks before . . . before you decide to head back home or keep on driving . You scratch at your cheek , giving a laugh and sighing in defeat .

“I think I might have to take you up on that offer . And thank you . I really appreciate it .” You lean into your car , grabbing the bag you’d haphazardly packed before taking off and slung it over your shoulder . Waking over to him you offer your hand , a half sleepy smile on your lips . “I’m y/n . Nice to meet you.”

The man grins , grabbing your hand and shaking , letting out a low whistle when you don’t just limp grip his hand but firmly shake it with purpose . You just shrug and smile . “Bo. Bo Sinclair. Nice to meet ya. And don’t worry about you’re car . I’ll have one of the guys come get in in the morning and bring it to my shop. Get you gas and get you on your way.”

You perk up a bit , letting him walk you to the passenger side and opening the door for you . “What ? You don’t have to . I can walk back . Really I don’t wanna cause you too much trouble.” He shakes his head , flashing you a smile as he shuts the door and walks around the front to the other side .

“Isn’t any trouble . Would be a shitty ass mechanic and car shop owner if I let you walk all the way to your car carrying a jug of gas.” He flashes you a smile and you shakes your head .

“I think you’re just trying to show off your southern hospitality .” Bo snickered , moving his truck out of park and turning it around , headed to . . . “Ambrose . Is it a small town ?” You shift the conversation , curious about where you’re headed .

Bo gives you a side glance , smiling to himself , “Maybe I’m just this charmin’.” You laugh and he raises a brow at you , only to seem to somber as you mention Ambrose. “It’s my home town . It’s small , but big enough . We gotta fancy wax museum up on the hill past the fields . It’s ‘bout the only reason anyone passes through anymore.”

“Really?” Despite your obvious sleepiness , you manage to perk up , curious as he mentions the wax museum . “We don’t even have a dollar store in my home town!” You laugh some, bringing your feet up to sit crisscross in the worn down seat of Bo’s truck . “Would it be too much to go look at it before I take off tomorrow ? Is there an entry fee ? I should have enough to pay for the tow and the gas and maybe some snacks , but if I have any left over I’d love to see it.”

Bo blinks at you for a moment , as if he’s considering something before he chuckles and turns his gaze back to the road . “Sure it wouldn’t be too much trouble . It’s a donation ran kinda museum . If your feeling’ inclined to pay for your visit , I won’t be stoppin’ ya .”

You grin , already looking forward to tomorrow . Which was something you hadn’t done in a while . At least not since . . . Your smile fell , a different kind of tiredness taking over as you gazed out the window . A large sign coming into view that read “Welcome to Ambrose” it looked like it needed a fresh coat of paint , but was well maintained . It chased away your previous sadness , replacing it with a mixture of nostalgia for your own home town and excitement to see this small one .

“Isn’t much to look at this time of night , but it’s home.” You give a glance to Bo , brow raised as he played up his home town . The southern boy charm oozing off him was refreshingly adorable . And it seemed he knew it .

“Sir , I’m gonna have to ask you to stop.” You’re almost laughing as you look at Bo . It seems he likes showing off because he’s smirking like crazy and laying on his accent thicker and thicker .

“Ma’am , I got no idea what yer talk in’ about.” He pulls into a drive , parking his car before tossing an arm over the empty middle seat and giving you a grin . “Hope ya don’t mind the fact we don’t gotta fancy motel .”

“I can’t believe you expect me to stay in a motel . I have a perfectly unfunctioning car to sleep in.” Bo laughs at that , shaking his head and shooting you a playful look .

“I could always drive you back and dump you there . Make you walk all the way to this little town o’ mine.” He winks , getting out of the truck and walking to your side , opening the door for you . You get out , taking a moment to be serious as he shuts the door and jerks his head towards the house .

“Really , though , I do appreciate you giving me a lift and a place to sleep.” You smile , genuinely thankful , and it makes Bo pause . Once again looking down at you as if he was mulling something over in his head . Wanting to ease the silence you playfully nudge his shoulder with your fist . “And all that country boy charm was refreshing to hear . I’m starting to wonder if people come here for the wax museum or for the way you talk.” Your words break him out of his thoughts and he laughs .

“Trust me . It’s the museum that brings people in . I ain’t all rainbows and sunshine all the time . Even us charmin’ southern gentlemen got a little bit of a bastard inside ‘em .” You roll your eyes , feeling so at home with how Bo went on . Maybe you should visit your home town for a while after you get gas . It’d be nice to go back .

The two of you joked , each one trying to lay on your accents thicker and thicker , jabbing at each other in an almost snarky way as bo grabbed a key from the motel counter and walked you to your room . Once again you went from light hearted to sincere thanks for the help . Bo just waved it off . Giving you a good night before you shut the door .

Outside Bo frowned to himself . He should of just killed you and taken you to Vinny . Should of ended your life , but something about you . . . He wasn’t sure . But whatever it was kept him from killing you . Plus you were entertaining . Not falling for his charm but actually enjoying it in a casual way . Maybe it was the small town solidarity he got from you . Either way , you were alive . For now , at least . He’d deal with it in the morning . Or better yet , he’d let Vincent decide on what to do with you .

[echo-three-one]

Whatever It Takes

Sequel to A Forgotten Memory

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

With more and more information revealed via Augustus' burner phone, The team now has to make an important decision, one that would change the course of their lives, forever.

Chapter 15 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

Previous Chapter : Meet Me Halfway

Unexpected Alliances

Gary "Roach" Sanderson

Task Force 141

Flying above Russian Airspace

Roach was speechless. Admittedly the dark and messy battle at the Gulag was something worth noting but the thing that kept his head preoccupied at the moment was Soap and France kissing in the middle of warfare.

Guess love knows no boundaries huh. He thought to himself as he looked at France kneeling beside Soap who passed out from exhaustion. Another person laying beside him was an old man named Jack. The 141 records had a match to Jack, he's apparently Alex's mentor who got missing when their safehouse got raided.

Guess the force will be having two reunions tonight. His eyes turned to Price, who sat by the huge window and gazed into the sea of clouds, he's always serious and in thought that Gary found him intimidating, even after that short mission in Germany. 

Then there was Ghost. He's surely heartbroken now that she saw what France did. And Gary was slightly to blame, well not necessarily his fault but if he pushed him enough to confess, maybe this won't hurt more than it did to him today.

Gary spent the rest of the trip observing, noting his comrade's actions, discussing with their thoughts, especially after the invasion. He was glad 141 extracted Soap before the deliberation, where none of them are allowed to perform missions. Gary felt scared, he just got here, got the hang of it, and was afraid to cut ties with the 141 on such short notice. But he hoped Shepherd would talk sense to the board, especially now that the burner phone filled with leads was within their possession.

"You're awfully quiet…" Ghost nudged to Gary while fidgeting with his gun.

"Well, I got nothing to talk about." Gary replied, turning to the masked man.

"Well I've got a lot, and it's pretty nasty. Can't say it here though." He replied, his tone was almost relieved, as if he just blurted out something that was bothering him for a long time.

"Is it about them?" Gary whispered, pointing his thumb to the couple back at the med bay.

"That's a different story, and I told you I was right, they already had a thing going on since day 1. Who am I to interfere…" Gary could feel him frown beneath the mask, he got defeated in the war of love.

"That's okay… You'll find someone better." Gary consoled and Ghost automatically shrugged it off. 

"Eh. I hope…" he said, turning to the window opposite to Gary's position.

~

Task Force 141 Base - Infirmary

"The audio from this room's camera is muted so it's best to discuss it here." Ghost sat on the chair as concerned 141 members circled around him, Jack, Alex and Soap occupied the beds as they recovered from injuries.

"What you got for us, lad?" Price crossed his arms as he leaned by the door, his hat tilted perfectly on his head.

"An anonymous number sent Augustus coordinates of the base prior to the attack." He held up the phone and everyone murmured.

"Looks like we have another mole in our hands." Alex grunted, turning to Jack for nostalgia.

"But this time, we have a solid lead to who it is…" Ghost added while everyone braced themselves for the slap of reality they're going to get.

From out of nowhere the infirmary doors opened, Maxine was panting and sobbing at the same time, her hands held her thigh desperately enduring some sort of pain.

"It's Samantha… haaah… Shepherd took her!..." she panted as Gary quickly assisted him while everyone who was capable of fighting dashed to the scene.

"Go, Gary. I'll take care of her." Soap quickly got up with Jack, they were already fine and just required to complete their nutrition so assisting her would be the best option.

Gary nodded and dashed outside, bracing himself for the unbearable news.

"Shit. What's going on! I thought we already agreed not to take Samantha elsewhere!" Gary caught up with Ghost and the rest of the available team.

"I have my wild guess, but you're not going to like it." He replied, adjusting his shades as they exited the building. From there, they saw the General's aircraft already far away from their reach. Behind them Alex, Soap, Jack and Maxine followed, their faces were drawn with extreme sadness. 

A few seconds of staring at the sky and Price's comms received an incoming message.

"Captain, I regret to inform you that the 141 is no more… I'm sending the High Value Individual to their care as the threat escalated and is being designated to a different force. I'm sorry. Please tell the rest of the group that in two weeks they will be returned to their prior assignments before 141 was established." his voice was nonchalant, emotionless and straightforward, like he's reading it from a diner table's tissue paper.

"No…" Price muttered. They were this close to Nero.  The rest of the team looked down, others started to disperse and did as ordered while the more concerned group stayed.

"Shepherd's working with Nero. He wants the EMP based weaponry to help his marines in Afghanistan." Ghost blurted, raising the heads of everyone around him.

"He's trading the economical side of the world to win a war?" Gary asked, as the information doesn't add up.

"It's a wild guess but the global economic pressure is already influencing the government to allocate more funds to anti terrorism. Cutting off 141 shouldn't be in play but he found a way to do so… He wants us to stop fighting back." 

"Then fighting back is what we're going to do." Price muttered, grabbing his phone.

"I'm going to make a few phone calls. Those who want to stay and save the world could stay. Those who are content to return to their past lives, you could leave." 

"What about me?" Maxine asked, raising her hand.

"Come with us, We'll take care of you while it's not safe out." Gary said, almost pleading her to say yes.

"I don't have anyone else but France and Samantha. I don't know where to go from here…"

"Then that settles it. Nikolai will take us somewhere safe. If the 141 is no more, we could still salvage weapons and ammo for ourselves. But after this, there's no turning back." Price added, his voice sparked inspiration to everyone. 

And that was it, from that moment. They've gone rogue, for a good cause. And they have to defeat Nero, Whatever it takes.

The Next Step

John Price

Task Force 141 - Disbanded

Former Task Force 141 Base - Helipad

A small group of his comrades were willing enough to stop the war, even at the cost of losing a lot of privileges. Price was always one to work under strict jurisdiction, and this rogue act he's going to commit will be backed up soon, it's going to be dependent on how Laswell influences the board.

The idea was easy. Create another task force which had to be approved prior to the 141's disbandment so that the papers for their redeployment would never be processed. Of course a few strings needed to be pulled and an organization must be able to absorb them. Interpol was willing to help along with Jack's influence to the CIA and Price was lucky enough to have them two on their side.

And there they were, with Nikolai's majestic aircraft, they set course to a temporary camp thanks to Jack. Price noted that he'd get along with the CIA, given they're age similarities and stance toward warfare. 

He surveyed his trusty crew and took note of their abilities. There's Alex, former CIA and fought alongside him in Verdansk and Urzikstan. He's got a clear objective and will and it doesn't matter to Price whether its love or world peace. He's good at terrible hostile locations and can single-handedly turn the tide of war by local agreements and persuasion. A good weapon.

Then there's Simon Riley, or Ghost. Excellent Sniper, the team's tech guy. He's a keeper, his ability to reject emotions while in combat makes him focused and a keen observer. He also excels in weapon usage. You give him anything with a trigger and he'll be sure to hit enemies no matter what.

Another one is John MacTavish, or Soap, what kind of a name is Soap? Price thought. Price looked at the muppet proudly. He rose among his comrades during recruitment and stood at the top of his batch, showing exemplary combat skills and demolitions expertise. Excellent at handling air support machinery and his keen eye never misses a tango hiding from the field. He's got it tough recently, Price believed luck wasn't on his side that's why he got injured a lot.

There's Gary Sanderson or Roach. Price calls him the team's therapist. He sees the willingness to help from the guy. He's eager to train hard and be better and he was impressed on how he handled the German Infilnitration they did together. He has initiative and a clear goal. Something useful at these times.

There's Francine Winters, France a.k.a. Shepherd's prodigy, the last minute addition. He's still quite skeptic as to why she's placed here, but so far he knew that with her sister mentally disturbed by the enemies she's bound to use her emotions as ammunition. She's great at stealth and close combat especially great for breaking and entering missions. She could be trained of open area battles and she has the drive to do so, making her another good addition to the team.

As for the remaining ones, Jack and Maxine, he has no idea yet but them tagging along and using their resources to the fight would greatly increase their chances of killing Nero and destroying the era of EMP machinery.

"Looks like you got yourself a pretty nice team, pal." Jack patted the Former captain's shoulder.

"Yeah. Small enough to remain secret and powerful enough to defeat Nero." he muttered. Jack held his phone and showed it to Price.

"I got us a place. An old CIA Safehouse."

"Are you sure this is going to be okay?" 

"Positive. This one's not used for decades. Classified as dormant and unmaintained. It's situated near a city that once housed a lot of terror activity but after it got neutralized it became very peaceful." Jack convinced. Price no longer hesitated, the team needed the help they can get.

"As long as we're under the radar." He replied and gave Nikolai the coordinates. From there they would begin their revenge toward Nero's attack, plan Samantha's rescue, and discover what Shepherd is really up to...

One step at a time.

Doing everything they can.

To set things right.

Whatever it Takes.

END OF PART 1

Wild ride first half. I hope you stay for the second part right around the corner!

Notification Squad my beloved 💝

@smokeywhalee @samatedeansbroccoli @enderio @ricinbach @beemybee @whimsywispsblog

#horRAYfic #whateverittakes #john price #simon ghost riley #gary roach sanderson #john soap MacTavish #alex echo 3 1 #cod #codmw

[procrastinatorimagines]

Another Chance

Fandom: Chicago PD / One Chicago

Characters: Kim Burgess x Reader

Warning/s: none

Word Count: 2,135

Request:  Can you do a Kim Burgess imagine, were you friends with her since you were little and when you moved away she was crushed so when you come back to Chicago you ask her out on a date and it's really cute, maybe a picnic date in the park? thank you lovely

Kim was one of the first people you called when you found out your job was moving you back to Chicago. You’d been friends since you were little, practically inseparable until you’d left the city for college. She’d been crushed when you left, and you’d been crushed to leave her, it was like leaving a part of yourself. 

You and Kim had always just been friends, you’d never crossed that line, though you’d come pretty close once or twice. She’d visited you in college a couple of times, but then she’d become a flight attendant and you’d found a job near where you were going to school, and the two of you had lost touch.

There were still occassional phone calls, and birthday and Christmas cards, but you’d always thought of Kim as the one that got away, especially as you’d gotten older and started to understand the feelings that you’d had for her. 

Now you were back in Chicago, and although you had no idea how Kim felt now, or how she felt then, you didn’t want this regret to hang over you forever. They’d told you the Chicago position at your firm could be permanent if you wanted it to be, and you’d told them you’d give it serious thought, but you’d actually just wanted to check that there was even a reason for you to stay in Chicago first. 

Kim had sounded excited over the phone, but her shifts in Intelligence had her working late as your flight arrived on Friday, so you’d taken a taxi back to your hotel and thought about what you were going to say to her when you saw her in person.

You’d made plans to meet up the next day, at the park you used to picnic at as kids, and you spent way too long deliberating over what outfit you were going to wear to see her. It was ridiculous, she practically knew you better than anyone, but suddenly you were nervous. 

These feelings you had for her hadn’t gone away, even after all these years, but now they were right at the surface as you rummaged through your luggage for an appropriate outfit. 

When you had finally chosen some trousers and a nice blouse you looked back at your messages again, specifically the last one Kim had sent saying: ‘it’s a date’ to your proposed time to meet in the park. 

Your mind had gone to the obvious places and you’d had to tell yourself over and over that she didn’t mean it that way, but as you tossed and turned that night before finally falling asleep, you’d wondered if she had meant it that way afterall.

You had packed a variety of picnic food in your bag as you crossed the familiar roads to the pack, memories of your childhood and your time spent with Kim coming flooding back to you as you wandered around the streets of Chicago, it felt like you’d never left.

There was an assortment of the foods you’d used to bring as children, as well as the more grown up food you ate now, but the nostalgia had hit you hard as you were scanning the isles of the supermarket that you’d had to grab some of the kids stuff, for old time’s sake. 

It took you a second to spot Kim once you arrived, sitting on a picnic blanket under the same tree you’d both used to scale as kids. You knew why she’d picked it, you’d both carved your initials in it together when you’d graduated, as a reminder that you’d be friends for life, wherever life took you.

Your heart swelled just thinking about it as she spotted you heading over, her face lighting up as she rushed over to greet you, both of you nearly toppling over with the force of the hug. Not that you minded.

“God I’ve missed you, hi!” Kim said excitedly, wrapping her arms around you with a strength you didn’t remember her having, not before she joined the police anyway.

“I’d tell you how much I missed you too if I could breath,” you laughed as she let go, mouthing sorry but still grinning. You knew you had the same grin on your face, it was straining your cheeks but you didn’t care, you were so happy to see him. “It is so good to see you,” you told her, squeezing her arm.

“Gosh how long has it been?” She asked as she directed you to where she had been sitting, taking your bags off and taking a seat next to her on her picnic blanket. 

“Too long,” you replied, removing your jacket.

“Agreed,” she said, “well you look good anyway,” she added, looking you up and down. You didn’t think you’d changed much until you’d skimmed your old year book after you’d found out you were coming home. But it had been the better part of ten years since you’d seen each other face to face like this, and you’d both changed. 

“Thanks,” you shrugged, feeling a little bit of heat creep into your cheeks and hoping she wouldn’t notice in the sun as you added, “so do you, guess chasing after bad guys does you good,” she laughed. Kim did look good, you noted to yourself, and not just in her actual physical appearance either, although she definitely did. You couldn’t quite explain it, but she looked more confident, sure of her self... sexier? You shook that last thought from your head.

“Oh yeah, you definitely get in that cardio,” she joked, “how was your flight anyway, sorry I couldn’t pick you up,” she apologised but you waved her off.

“It’s not problem, really, you were busy keeping the city safe,” she had nothing to apologise for. You saw your initials carved into the tree out the corner of your eye and nodded towards it, “they wouldn’t believe us if we told them where we’d be right now,” you said, thinking back to the day you’d both snuck out late to carve your friendship in stone... well, wood.

Kim smiled fondly at the memory, “I definitely wouldn’t have believed I’d ever be a cop, especially not a cop in as high profile a unit as Intelligence, some of my family members still have a hard time believing it,” she said, tracing the letters lightly with her fingers. 

“I thought I’d be waiting tables forever,” you admitted, “I felt like I BS’d by way through law school and now I’m just some fraud pretending I know what I’m talking about in the court room,” you explained.

“Waiting for the day someone finally catches on and tells us we’re not supposed to be where we are,” Kim finished for you, glancing back at you with the realisation that you both felt the same way. 

She opened her mouth to say something more to you when her stomach grumbled, both laughing as you decided to get out the foods you’d brought to eat. As it turns out, you’d both brought the food you used to sneak out the house when you were younger, candy bars and chocolate that your parents had kept for special treats stuffed under your shirts and in your pockets, only to be shared with each other once you’d made it to your concealed spot at the top of the tree.

Neither of you were going to be climbing it now, but as you divided out sandwiches and snacks, and the bottle of wine Kim had brought, you couldn’t help but watch her as she poured. 

You reminisced as you ate, trading stories about what you’d been up to since college and laughing at memories of your youth together, your school years and misadventures. Kim had thrown a grape at you when you’d made a comment about her embarrassing middle school bangs and you’d returned the favour when she’d brought up your disasterous first kiss, and for a while, it was like it used to be, like you were the only two people in the world.  

“I’ve missed you Kim,” you said suddenly, after a little bit of a pause in conversation, your feelings and emotions getting the better of you as you reached out and squeezed her hand.

“Well then, maybe you shouldn’t have moved away.” She said it as a joke but you felt the jab, your regret about leaving her behind never really leaving you, even after all these years. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t,” you admitted. Kim blinked at the sincerity of your tone, both of you forgetting that you were still holding either other’s hands. 

“It hurt,” she told you honestly, looking down at your hands but not pulling away. You swallowed hard as she spoke, hardly daring to breath as you listened. “We did everything together, we promised we’d be friends for life, never without each other, and then you were gone.”

“I know,” you nodded, “I never expected... life to- to happen like this,” you waved your free hand around like that explained everything, “but it’s no excuse, I’m sorry.”

Kim met your eyes, silent for a second before she said anything, a sad smile on her face as she did. “It’s not you fault, not entirely, we both got so busy that we never really made time for each other anymore, not in any real way anyway,” she said but you didn’t respond, seeing she had more to say but was wrestling with how to say it, “it’s on me too, you might have left for college... but I took that badly, I’ll be the first to admit that now, and when I visited you and saw how much fun you were having with your new friends, I got jealous okay? It was always me and you you know?”

She looked away, a little embarrassed to finally be getting that off of her chest. You took a breath, she’d come clean to you, it was only fair you did the same, here went nothing. “Kim I- I always meant to come back to Chicago, but when we stopped visiting each other, and hell, when you started travelling the world, I didn’t see a place in your life anymore, at least not in the way I wanted, so I took the job at this firm because I didn’t want to risk us not... being the same when I got back, I thought that would hurt more.”

You hadn’t quite confessed everything, but you both definitely had a lot to think over as you sat there, wind rustling in the trees as birds chirped and children played around you in the mid afternoon sun. What you really wanted to tell her, but what you didn’t think you could, was that you’d realised you were in love with her, and the thought of her not reciprocating had seemed like the worse alternative to just not being in her life at all. 

It had been selfish, you knew that, but at the time it had made sense to you. But still, seeing the hurt flash on Kim’s face was reopening that old wound. You didn’t know how long you both sat in silence, still holding hands but both deep in thought.

Kim was the first to speak, chewing her lip selfconsciously. “When I said that I wanted things to be just you and me, I wanted us to be more than that, if that makes any sense, and seeing you in college, with your new friends, I realised that I was never going to fill that place in your life,” she explained.

“I felt like that too,” you replied, “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, it meant so much to me that... that I panicked when I started to realise the way I actual felt about you, so I left...” taking a breath you finally said it outloud for the first time: “I think I was in love with you.”

Kim took a sharp breath, but despite your fear, she smiled. “I was in love with you too,” she admitted, all the weight lifting from your chest as you felt like you could finally breath, “do you think we’ve missed our chance?”

“I think maybe we have another chance right now...” you suggested slowly, watching for her reaction, “I mean if-” You began, not wanting to be too forward or push her into a corner.

But your words were taken right out of your mouth as you realised that she was kissing you, pulling you towards her by your collar.

You’d thought about this more often that you’d ever admit, especially when you were first starting to realise your feelings, and to be kissing her right now. You leaned in, cupping her face.

You’d both wasted enough time, you weren’t going to waste anymore.

#kim burgess #chicago pd #one chicago #kim burgess x reader #kim burgess imagine #chicago pd imagine #kim burgess imagines #chicago pd imagines #kim burgess one shot #chicago pd one shot #one chicago imagine #one chicago imagines #one chicago one shot #one shot

[dandyvespa]

I-Land Final Episode and Thoughts *SPOILERS! duh*

For anyone who has kept up with I-Land, I understand how emotional and nerve-wracking this episode was for them.  After developing a connection with a lot of the participants and sharing in their memories, its hard to see anyone being let go.  It has been just as much of journey for them as it was for the fans who supported them and at the end of the day, regardless of who debuts, there will be people who will be disappointed by the final results.  But please please PLEASE understand that you should not put the blame on them or even break them down just because your favorite did not make it.  All of these boys worked hard to get where they are and though it stings for those who did not make it, please support whatever flower path any of them have taken and continue to support and spread love.  With that being said, I would just like to use the rest of this post on my final thoughts on the episode and debut line.  If you are caught up with the show, please read ahead.  Thank you :)

First I would like to say that the preparations done for the final performance, the OT22 interaction and performance, the funny bits of preparing PR videos, dividing roles, and playing Truth or Dare, and the home-cooked meals sent from their parents were all just an emotional roller coaster.  I laughed and I cried.  To see those boys grow was something very special to me and to see their individual selves shine through personalities or skills were always a treat.  Having these segments were really meant to lighten the mood for the final lineup to come.  Personally, Sunghoon developed the most out of his shy exterior and his personality was so confident and funny in the pre-recorded videos.  I also thought Jay... could never escape his dark history LOL.   Also Heeseung’s brother teasing him and telling him to tell Jay he adores him was very cute.  Seeing everyone help each other with the PR videos was adorable and heart-warming (Heeseung even had a whole production team haha).  Jungwon dressed up as a sheep still sticks with me though haha.  Seeing OT22 come together also had me in tears and stitches.  It was so cute seeing them all hang out in I-land and despite how whack it was for the Grounders to never experience it, they looked so happy being with their friends and taking part in this little world even if it was for a short time. Also loved how they would easily throw others under the bus during Truth or Dare and the Questions they voted on.  The love and support their parents got and how each of them could not hold back their tears was really the icing on the cake.  No matter where these boys go, their family will always be their for them more than anything else.  Just all those moments leading up to their debut lineup really put a toll on me and it just made me feel like a proud mom

Okay the team name?  I am sooooooooooo glad its not Dragon Gee or Dee or whatever that speculated name was going around on Twitter.  Enhypen is odd but in a good way.   Its different and it will stick with time even though I still may just call them the I-Land group for now lol.  Pretty curious about what the fandom name will be too (but honestly I think I would still call myself an Eggie haha).

TXT and BTS’s presence was neat.  I wish more of the TXT member’s got to speak but having them all physically there was nice.  Though I will say it was just awkward not seeing them cheer as much.  I also felt like BTS was just bored at some points or were just glazing over when having to wait on each member getting called out.  They did have their humorous moments which was nice to see, definitely lifted the tension in the room and I’m glad they joked a bit (especially Suga losing it lol) instead of remaining completely serious.  Their advice and encouragement were all appreciated too.  Jhope being an avid viewer really showed.  Also plus points for Jungwon getting Jungkook’s attention uwu.   I still wish they could have interacted more and mentored some of them over the course of the show.  The slim TXT interactions with Heeseung such as Taehyun and Yeonjun’s reactions made me wanting more damn it.  But hey, at least we get to see them more often in the BigHit building.  I love a good family.

So the Calling performance was A M A Z I N G.  I personally thought they were so coherent as a group and made me wishing OT9.  There were some who really shine in their parts, but I think all of them stood out one or more times to me.  The dance was pretty powerful and a lot of them improved vocally.  Again, it makes me feel like a proud mom seeing them all at this point, grown and amazing.  The Into the I-Land performance also made me feel that way as well.  They all looked so good together and were pretty in sync given that they were fucking 22 of them.  The nostalgia was really hitting in me and I also teared uo like a big ass baby.  But can I just say... and let’s be real here.... Every single song on this show has been a bop and I would be thrilled to see a whole Soundtrack Album for I-Land on Spotify.  Like P L E A S E.

Now onto the debut line! I was S H O C K E D.  You can clearly tell these votes were not rigged in the slightest and this was solely based on global votes always shifting which was appreciated.  I did not see this order coming and it did turn out slightly different then my post on my preferred I-Land debut line.  So starting with number 1.... YANG FUCKING JUNGWON.   I was pleasantly surprised and I literally jumped out of my bed when I heard him place first instead of Sunoo.  This was the complete definition of people who initially slept on him finally waking.  I was soooo thrilled.  Bro really came in last by the last Producer vote and then climbed all the way to first.  Our lovely sheep garden and hidden ace, a big congrats!  

Jay also left his cursed 6th spot and got second! Again another well-deserved man who gave it his all from the beginning and was no stranger to being straightforward and a go getter.  His stubbornness and hilarity will lead this group lol.  

Jake getting third was a big shock as well.  Our icon of improvement!  To think he was always on the verge of getting placed out of the top 7 members and made it here? Also considering his benefit put him in 7th once when he literally could have been the eliminated member that episode.  UGH.  Our Aussie boy did great and seriously improved performance after performance.  

Next up.... NIKIIIIIII.  Now I’m gonna be real I thought it was gonna be K.  I never placed Niki in my debut prediction, but his Flame On performance really change everything for me.  Actually, just the whole second part of I-Land was very impactful for him.  I was always hesitant about his sportsmanship and whether he was too selfish in the first part (the constant evil-editing did not help, Mnet...), but thanks to other members, he really matured and took a greater lead in things.  I really began to fall for him when we got to see him more playful and interactive with other members.  Like I really thought he was much happier and understanding throughout the second half of the show.  So kudos to him!  

Coming in 5th place was Heeseung.  I was actually confused man.  When he was called first at this point, I just knew this global vote line up will be verrrry different.  I was still relieved that he made it and seeing him choke up, this boy who has been going at it the longest among the 9 participants at 3 years to finally debut.... Gosh I could not.  As someone who is also Heeseung biased, I was so so so happy for him.  Think we all know regardless of which place he got, the boy was destined to debut.  My Ace heart feels full ^^.  Go get him Leader!!!

Now 6th place... my Ice Prince... Sunghoon! I was actually the most nervous for him.  I saw so many people saying that Sunghoon was last in votes or was in danger because a lot of people had the mentality that given his popularity they should reserve the votes for the people who would most likely be eliminated.  I think that’s why Heeseung and Sunoo were scored low too.  Now I am also biased towards him.  I was thinking like what would I do if none of my favorite Bighit trainees (Heeseung, Jay, Sunghoon, and Jungwon) do not make it?  But when he was called to take up the last spot in global voting, I did a back flip (not really but yeah lol).  Given that Sunghoon has never gotten any brutal feedback from the Producers and has always adapted to each concept, he deserved this.  Just everything he has been through... And shifting his life from being an ice skater of 10 years to this path as an idol.... hold up let me get some damn tissues.  May he continue to break out of his shell and show his continuous charms!

Ok the producer choice for 7th place... Again did not see that coming.  Sunoo constantly ranking high in global votes only to be one of the deciding factors was another big surprise.  I have said that Sunoo’s sunshine personality would be needed, especially if the group were to do cute or youthful concepts.  His health had been concerning, but he was able to manage himself so well.  Even with powerful choreo!  He is not really one of the best dancers but he had always been able to do his part.  I really thought the Producers would choose K, but I really thought Bang PD boiled it down to overall skill and personality appeal.  He even claimed that Sunoo would connect best with the world with his joyful outlook.  I honestly could not agree more. I just people do not rail him for being picked as they should now understand he is not just some cute face and has proven that multiple times.  Sunshine Fighting! :)

The eliminated trainees were K and Daniel.  Though I thought Daniel has improved a lot, he was just outshined.  I also think at his age he should have more time spent in sharpening his skills.  What was more devastating was K.  He looked like he was obliterated.  I mean both of them were naturally sad, but K was just gone to me.  I was really hoping that he would make the debut line.  K has shown himself as a performer multiple times and was praised for his choreography skills.  He even showed to have learned from past behaviors and matured more as a person when taking the leader role.  To see him grow and understand where he went wrong.... ugh I really could not bear him looking that way.  His thoughts were all over the place and he could barely choke out what he wanted to say.  I just hope he meant what he said and actually continues to enjoy music and develop himself as a performer.  I knew how much his mom was initially livid at the idea of him becoming an idol so I hope he gets another chance at showing her that he can still do this. Now understand this does not mean you should blame Sunoo for being chosen or complain that Sunoo does not deserve it.  I already feel like he is gonna be haunted with the grim reminder that he was chosen instead and think that he doesn’t deserve this because he is not as skilled as K.  And people are gonna bandwagon hate on him... and again I say please DO NOT DO THAT.  At the end of the day, no matter how much you want OT9 or OT22, this is a survival show and these participants signed up for this.  Yes there will be fans who are disappointed, but you shouldn’t waste your anger on the other trainees who were able to succeed instead of your faves. I don’t want this moment to completely wreck K or Daniel’s chances at being an idol again.  Same goes for rest of the eliminated I-Land members.  This is definitely not the end for any of them so please go on with hope guys because I know you will still have many people’s support!  They will end up on the same stage as their colleagues one day.  

The last thing I want to say is that though this has been a tough journey and though there may be people who will not be satisfied with the debut line, everyone worked hard.  From the participants to the fans and even the Producers, all of them played a special role in making I-Land bearable and exciting to watch.  This is a big congrats to everyone who took part in the show despite having to go through many hardships.  With that being said let us continue to support the futures of the eliminated I-Land members as well as the grand success of Enhypen.  I smell 4th gen leaders :D. Welcome to the BigHit family Enhypen and may your fans, your wings, fly you even higher once you officially debut. F I G H T I N G!

Now... will you guys join in during the next season of I-Land for the next global girl group? :3

.... Ya’ll already know I am lol.

#I-land #iland #enhypen #jungwon #jay #jake #niki #heeseung #sunghoon #sunoo #bts #txt #kpop #kpop survival show #kpop thoughts #kpop opinions #bighit #mnet

[trollcafe]

Keia

Length: 1812 words TW: None that I know of, ask to tag.  Brief: Rom unearths some old memories.   Credits:  All trolls in this are mine  Here’s the song I listened to while writing this!

There were a lot of boxes in Romune’s hive that he had never bothered to open. Some were in the hall closet, some in his sleeping block. Occasionally, when feeling sentimental, Romune would pick out a random box and open it up. He had discovered a lot of things that sparked various memories from life before the hospital. He found some pictures of what he used to look like once. It was bittersweet to look at the face he used to have. The troll in the picture didn’t even really seem like him. That Romune had a different look in his eyes. That Romune just seemed…..different. He wasn’t empty but there was a hollowness to his stare. But it was sweet to look in the mirror afterwards and see a light in his gaze that wasn’t in the original image. It also sucked because he had been growing a beard out and then, of course, lost his jaw. How typical. 

One of the pictures Romune had found even had a few of his old co-workers. They all wore similar Fleet-issued work uniforms. Specifically jumpsuits. One picture was Romune and a goldblood in workout gear; it looked like a selfie taken at a gym. For as long as he stared at their face….he couldn’t remember their name. Honestly, looking at their smile, their sweet face, their blue and green eyes, their curved horns, and the little scar that ran over their nose… it made his head hurt. It made his heart hurt, too. 

Romune had spent many sleepless days thinking about the incident that led to him losing his limbs. He could never quite shake the unease that the situation gave him. He remembered walking down a specific road. Occasionally he would remember a landmark….a boulder on the side of the road, the boba shop next to the florist that smelled like honeysuckle no matter the time of year. He always wondered if he could find those shops again. 

It wasn’t a particularly sentimental night. To be honest, the phantom pains were killing him. His arm hurt the worst. It was a horrible burning sensation in his arm; it couldn’t be helped with pain killers or going on walks or bundling up under blankets. What he could do, however, was try to ignore it. And Romune chose to ignore it by opening a box from the closet in his block. The box was one he had put off for a long while for one reason or another, he just never felt it to be the right time to open that specific box. Upon opening, the box held….clothes? 

More specifically, there was one of Romune’s old sweatshirts folded neatly on top. Underneath it was a gift wrapped box complete with a crumpled little yellow ribbon. Romune sat back, criss crossing his legs to get more comfortable. His lusus lifted her head slightly as the sound of tearing paper filled the air. Of course the box was taped with duct tape, nothing could ever be EASY. It was no problem, though, the tape had aged enough to peel off without too much of a struggle. It took part of the box with it but this wasn’t exactly a gift-opening contest, was it? Rom hesitated to open the now unwrapped gift. It was as if something inside him knew to wait. Something in him said this wasn’t a good idea. Normally he was one to listen to his gut. It felt almost wrong to open this gift. Had there been a name on it? He gently set the box beside him and dug through the wrapping paper shreds to see if there had been a name other than his own written. But there was no name, no tag.

Reluctantly, Romune picked the gift back up. He set it in his lap and stared down at it with furrowed brows. It took a serious pep talk to finally pull back the top of the box. 

The first thing that Romune noticed was a surprisingly strong smell of cologne. For as old as the gift was, the smell was potent, both in smell and in emotion. It forced a wave of overwhelming nostalgia upon him. Romune sat there, holding the open gift, too stunned from the intense longing to move. He didn’t even know what he was longing for. The cologne started to make his head hurt. He considered setting the gift aside and laying down instead but this whole ordeal had made his phantom pain lessen. So he continued. 

He pulled out a shirt from the box. As he pulled the shirt out, an envelope flopped onto the floor in front of him. Romune nudged the box to the side for a moment and stared at the shirt. It was too big to be his own, and the color of the symbol was too purple. The more he stared at the symbol, the more his head ached. But there was something there. A memory. A troll. Someone stored in the back of his brain, waiting to come forward. 

Romune didn’t know what he was doing. He brought the shirt up to his nose, closed his eyes, and breathed in the scent. The feeling of deja vu came forth, but it didn’t feel wrong. This was genuinely familiar. He just didn’t know why. Romune held the shirt close, willing it to bring forth the memory of the owner. And yet…..nothing. The longing was replaced with a deep-rooted sadness. As if his own heart was upset that he couldn’t remember. 

Romune folded the shirt back up into a neat square, and set it to his side. He let his gaze linger on it for another second, as if that sole second could conjure up the proper memories. When nothing happened, he turned to the letter. His name was hand written on the front of the envelope. It looked hastily done, and punctuated with a little exclamation mark. Romune! That was him alright! Romune. Someone had written a letter for Romune. 

But not this Romune, the Romune with the hollowness in his eyes and the scruffy face; the Romune with the goldblood friend. The Romune who died on the operating table. Not this Romune. 

It almost felt wrong to open the letter. The tear was jagged and uneven, messy at best. He wasn’t sure if it was his hand shaking from nerves or the slight ache that remained. The letter inside was folded haphazardly. It was handwritten as well. But it looked like whoever wrote it had spent actual time on it, unlike the name on the front of the letter. He took his time to read every word, take in everything. 

To say reading the letter was an emotional rollercoaster was an understatement. 

The name at the end of the letter is what caused Romune the greatest amount of grief. He stared at it, begging for something. It was at the tip of his tongue. There was SOMETHING there. He had to work for it, but he could feel the gears turning in his head as he grasped for the straws of a memory.

Magnus. Who was Magnus-? 

It hit Romune hard. The more he stared at the name, the more he could picture a face, until it suddenly became clear as day. Messy hair pulled back in a bun, square jaw, long ears. He had a goatee. There were strands of hair falling down into his face. His eyes weren’t really blue, but they weren’t really purple, either. His horns were curved with spikes. Specifically, Romune remembered him with a hair tie between his teeth. Magnus was grinning, brow cocked, walking backwards. Where was he going? Mentally, Romune reached for him, desperate to pull him close and ask. But as quick as he came, Magnus was gone. 

When Romune returned to Alternia, he realized his cheeks were wet with tears. One of them had splashed down onto the paper and smeared the ink by Magnus’ name. Romune sniffled slightly and brushed away the rest of the teardrop before folding the letter back up. He wiped his cheek with the back of his hand. 

HyenaMom realized something was wrong, and stood up from her bed in the corner. She gave a big long stretch before making her way to her charge, and laid behind him. She curled up behind Romune’s back and whimpered. He leaned back just slightly, then decided to lay down on the floor instead. He used his lusus as a pillow and stared up at the boring ceiling while his emotions swirled in his chest. And the phantom pain resurfaced. 

He carefully rested his organic hand on his robotic shoulder. The shirt laid, now slightly tousled, within reach of his robotic hand. Romune slowly grabbed it and brought it back to his face. He begged for the smell to bring him the same sense of nostalgia and security. He wanted to feel warm again. He wanted to feel like Magnus was there again. But nothing happened. The smell was so faint, it was practically a memory. 

But what the shirt did bring back, was the faintest memory of a voice. 

“You said no, right?” 

Romune had the feeling he had said yes. What did he say yes to? To working. He agreed to work. To cover someone’s shift at the ship repair sight. It was a different site, not his usual place of business. Who was he covering for? He strained to think of a name. No name popped up, but the smiling goldblood with the blue and green eyes came to mind. Them. He was covering for them. 

Romune had agreed to cover the goldblood’s shift at the ship repair sight. It was starting to come back to him, slowly but surely. Magnus had stopped by unexpectedly. Romune didn’t really remember from where, what Magnus had been doing. What Romune did remember, was opening the door to leave and seeing Magnus standing there. And in his hand was the box. The box that Romune had just opened. 

The box meant for the Romune with the hollow eyes and the scruffy face, who covered a shift for a goldblood and got blown up. Not the Romune with the metal limbs and metal jaw, who doesn’t cover shifts because he’s the only intern. 

If Magnus was alive, Romune was certain he had moved on. Or maybe he died in the explosion. Wherever he was, he was obviously happy. No Magnus had ever stopped by his hive, at least not that Romune could remember. 

Romune found himself hoping Magnus had died. He hid his face in the shirt, silently begging it to bring him anything. Any sense of comfort. Or more memories of Magnus. He wanted so badly to remember more about this mysterious purpleblooded man with the long hair and curved horns. 

( Do you wish to read the contents of the letter? ) 

#ghost.art #drabbles #romune #magnus #romune iscatu

[citrinekay]

Looking Season 2 thoughts

So I finished season 2 last night, and I’ve been trying to gather my thoughts and pick the broken pieces of my heart up off the floor - and the first thing that comes to my mind as a general reaction to these ten perfectly crafted yet heart-breaking episodes is the quote by C.S. Lewis: “Experience: that most brutal of teachers. But you learn; my God, do you learn.” 

I absolutely loved all the character arcs and development that occurred over the course of season 2 for all the characters, not just Patrick. Though I was very sad to see Lynn and Dom break up, I think that relationship taught Dom that he wants something real - not just sex - out of relationship. If S3 had happened, I would have loved to see Lynn learn that he wants to try to find some level of the happiness that he had with his late boyfriend again. Later on, Dom also learned that he needs to be independent and do things on his own with him opening his chicken window (in my mind, a smashing success!!) I was most surprised by Agustin’s development in this season. He truly hit rock bottom, and I gained a new respect for him seeing him face the consequences of his actions and in part, the brutal truths about himself that Frank explained to him at the end of S1. I can relate to and respect a character who learns from his bad choices and tries to be a better person. And in turn, the addition of Eddie to the cast of characters was really lovely for me. I loved the fact that they included an HIV positive character and were honest yet also sensitive about the topic. Eddie himself was just a joy to see, and what I really liked about his relationship to Agustin was that he’s a no-bullshit kind of person. He doesn’t let Agustin lie to himself or be a prideful asshole. If we had gotten S3, I think we would have seen a beautiful evolution of that relationship, and Eddie learning to stop using his HIV status as a reason to shut people out from having a serious, committed relationship with him. 

And now, I save Patrick for last because oh my Lord 😭 Oh my poor, sweet, baby. Where do I even start? Though the character development in this show is so detailed and carefully orchestrated in a way that feels really natural and amazing to watch, it was also really fucking sad and disappointing. This season with him and Kevin was like watching a train wreck in slow motion. I knew exactly where it was going, but at some point (I think around episode 8 or 9 when Kevin finally broke up with Jon and they got together and seemed to be really happy) I had one small moment where I wanted it to work out - simply so that I wouldn’t have to see Patrick get his heart broken again. Alas, my opinions about Kevin were correct from the very beginning. What a dick. I never liked them together, but the reason for their breakup really upset me. I completely agree with Patrick when it comes to relationships and monogamy. If the point of having a relationship isn’t exclusivity and devotion, then what is the point??? Kevin really blew it because he could have had someone who would love him fervently for the rest of his life - but I guess that goes to show how he felt about his relationship to Patrick all along. It’s like Richie told Patrick, “You shouldn’t be in deeper than the person you’re with.” That was the case, for sure. 

It all comes back around to 1x1 in which Patrick asked Dom “Why do I go on so many bad dates?” and Dom said, “Because you care too much what your mom thinks.” Maybe in this season Patrick saw a whole different side of his mother, but he still cared so much about what his entire family thought of him. The fact that he rushed to move in with Kevin just to prove a point to his sister is really fucking sad. He’s just looking for acceptance and respect inside his own family and it seems that no matter what he does, he can never get it. I don’t agree with Megan’s mean behavior over the whole situation, but she had a couple good points. Patrick made the same mistake as he did in S1 with Richie, though for entirely different reasons - he rushed it. He was so eager to prove to himself that he could be in a relationship that he completely ignored every warning sign and gut feeling about Kevin that could have saved him a lot of heartache. To see him admit that to himself in their final conversation was crushing yet also important. Watching him lie to himself about Kevin and himself all season was so frustrating, and it was good to see him open his eyes to the truth no matter how painful it was. 

So, in conclusion, I suppose Patrick did learn. He finally learned that he does want a real, monogamous relationship (a clear contrast to episode 1 and cruising in the park.) He learned to stop caring about his family. He learned that he should have listened to himself when he broke up with Kevin the first time. I think, in time, he’ll learn that he still loves Richie so much and that he is finally ready for that commitment Richie was looking for the first time around. And if the show HAD to end (i know there’s the movie but I’m talking season after season) I would have wanted it to end exactly the way it did - Patrick showing up at Richie’s barber shop, asking for him to cut his hair. Not just cut it, but shave it all off, a fresh start. I think this was a very subtle point and a throwback to Patrick’s conversation with his mom in the wedding episode when he told her that Richie has no other ambition aside from cutting hair. It’s not a lowly, unimportant pursuit. I think it’s a form of healing touch that’s very intrinsic to the human condition. Not only did Patrick go to Richie after his horrible breakup with Kevin, he went there to change his hair and to start changing himself.

Favorite episodes happened right in the middle of the season:

2x5: Looking For Truth - Patrick’s day with Richie which felt a little like a modified version of their date back in S1 when Patrick called off work to spend the day with him. I love them just sitting there talking, looking at each other, understanding one another 💛

2x6: Looking For Gordon Freeman - Patrick being an absolute MESS

2x7: Looking for a Plot - Patrick going to Doris’ dad’s funeral with her and Dom. I thought it highlighted grief and emotional turmoil in an important and poignant way from Doris’ reactions to her father’s passing, to Dom’s nostalgia about their hometown, to Patrick’s utter breakdown at the graveside service. Even though he didn’t know Doris’ dad, the memorial spoke deeply to him about what he really wants for himself, the brevity of life, and the impact of his choices. It made sense to me why he went back to Kevin after that even if I didn’t agree with that choice. I think it was probably my most favorite out of the entire season. 

I’ll be watching the Movie later tonight and am simply praying please be kind. I want to be healed from the heartbreak of S2 and see Patrick and Richie back together again after so much turmoil. It’s what they deserve !! 😭💕

#well this got really long #did I call kevin a d*ck enough times??? #i just really love patrick you guys #i want him to be happy and loved !! is that too much to ask??? #looking hbo #patrick murray