#needing a literal shove from the universe to realize peoples emotions

[judastarkid]

i saw one (1) post about zoey being autistic and it wont leave my brain it just. makes so much sense

#lack of empathy #difficulty with grey areas #needing a literal shove from the universe to realize peoples emotions #i love it so much #i speak #zep #autistic zoey clarke

[five-rivers]

@lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks came up with this op!Danny/Marvel AU!

BTW I need help naming this newest proof that I can't keep anything to a short little one-shot.

.

Loki was not, and never had been, a good man. For that matter, whether or not he’d ever been a good boy was debatable. His mother would argue that he had, but she would very likely be the only one. Well, except for Thor, perhaps, but that was because he was an idiot who could drown in three inches of nostalgia. Like he didn’t remember every time Loki had humiliated him. Maybe he didn’t, for all that he kept falling for the same trick over and over again.

It made Loki’s late nights studying the arts of illusion, misdirection, and lying seem redundant. Almost. Not everyone was as dense as his big brother.

No. Loki had never been a good man. He had, however, been a free man.

Free to run or hide. Free to explore the nooks and crannies of Asgard, to uncover her secrets in ways few cared to do. Free to walk hidden paths between the Nine Realms and even farther flung territories, where his people did not and had never ruled, to play games, make deals, have adventures, take risks. To be. To exist as his own creature.

He had been free. He had.

But on one of those little secret excursions, he had discovered something that had made even his flippant, slippery heart clench with fear. A ravening plague, spreading across the stars. The death of half of everything on the horizon.

Loki was not a good man. What cause did he have to care for all the sundry others in the universe? There were too many. It was too much to ask.

But Asgard—His home, even though the had long ago realized the blood in his veins originated on very different soil. That was different.

Asgard, he could help. Asgard could survive.

But it had to be strong. It had to have strong allies. None of this barely-held peace, this enemy eternally at their gates. It needed strong leadership. Not his brother’s simplistic view and longing for the glory of war.

Loki was not a good man. But he was one who could get things done.

Before he knew it, he had burned all his bridges behind him. In one case, a literal bridge that was literally broken.

And he fell.

And he fell.

And he fell right into the hands of the one he had feared enough to do this. Broken enough for poison to drip into the cracks. No one knew where he was, no one could know where he was, except, perhaps, Heimdal, and Loki sincerely doubted Heimdal cared. No one was coming for him. No one was looking for him. No rescue was forthcoming.

He was alone.

Asgardians were considered gods for a reason. Their bodies and minds were much more resilient than the average mortal’s. But Thanos’s people had been titans, and there was a reason for that, too.

Thanos enjoyed breaking him.

And Loki turned his lies on himself. A skilled master of games always had one gifted opponent, even alone. Hadn’t he wanted to rule? To command? To see a world, any world, prostrate at his feet? To be given the recognition and praise of which he was so worth?

To pull something, anything, out of the fire?

(If he had spent less time learning how to spin lies and more on how to see the truth, he might not have believed it. A better, wiser, man would have. But Loki was not a good man. And he was very skilled in his craft.)

So, his new master put a weapon in his hands, and he went off to conquer a world.

.

Danny was used to rude awakenings. He was used to those rude awakenings being full body chills and ghosts, not someone knocking on his door.

Blearily, he pulled himself out from under the blankets. Quasi-military government facility or not, the beds were comfortable. Maybe Mom or Dad had gotten themselves locked out of their room? Or Jazz—No, not Jazz, she hadn’t come with them. She was at college, not being flown places by Mom and Dad’s suspiciously generous new consulting job.

At least it wasn’t the GIW.

He stood on tiptoe (curse his perpetually short body) to peer out the peephole. His parents’ buff, one-eyed, and incredibly imposing new boss stood in front of the door, hands on his hips, slightly sweeping back his long dark coat. If Danny listened carefully, he could hear two other people near the door, and… was that an alarm? Yes. Faint, but present, was a warning klaxon.

Okay. Danny would bet his right arm that something had gone horribly wrong with whatever his parents were consulting on. Didn’t explain why the boss was in front of his door.

Unless they’d gotten the rooms mixed up, somehow?

Ugh. Danny wasn’t paid enough to deal with this.

He opened the door. “What-?”

“Phantom,” intoned eyepatch guy with great solemnity.

Danny immediately tried to close the door. The guy stuck his foot in the jamb, and, sure, Danny could have crushed it, but that would be a jerk move. He didn’t think this guy was going for a pirate look, after all.

“We need your help.”

.

“I’m not sure what you think I can help you with,” yelled Danny over the beating of the helicopter blades. He’d remained stubbornly in human form. “My parents are the scientists. This sounds like a science thing. Not a punching-people thing.”

“We spoke to them earlier,” said Fury, “and we have plenty of scientists working on the theories they brought up. You’re the one with practical experience.”

“Practical experience in what?”

“Interdimensional portals,” said the woman, who had yet to introduce herself.

As if this whole thing wasn’t already giving him a bad feeling. “My parents built an interdimensional portal. Again, you should be talking to them. They’re the ones you’re paying.”

“We could pay you, too,” said Fury, “but we assumed you would want to avoid letting your parents know about this, as you’re still a minor and they have control of your bank accounts.”

Danny stared flatly. “This is blackmail.”

“We aren’t threatening you,” pointed out the woman.

“Emotional blackmail,” said Danny, glaring, daring her to challenge him on whether or not he actually knew what blackmail was.

In the meantime, the helicopter landed. Danny unbuckled and hopped out, trailing slightly awkwardly behind Fury and the woman. He didn’t want to stand out, but he suspected that, being the only kid here and being in the general vicinity of Fury, who radiated authority, that was a lost cause.

“This is Agent Coulson. Coulson, this is Phantom.”

Danny’s mouth went dry(er) at how casual the introduction was. His eyes went nervously to all the other people running around the field. With all the noise, it was unlikely anyone had heard, but still…

“Can you not? Secret identity and all? Unless you’ve told everyone herealready, which, rude.”

Fury sighed. “How bad is it?” he asked Coulson.

“We’re not sure,” said Coulson. “That’s the problem. Big fan of your work, by the way,” he added as an aside to Danny. He glanced at the woman. “Agent Hill.”

“Background?” asked Fury as he led the way into the building.

“The first energy surge was four hours ago. Dr. Selvig’s equipment picked it up – He’s the head scientist on this project.”

“Dr. Selvig isn’t authorized to test,” said Fury. “We wanted to run his plans by the Fentons.”

“He wasn’t testing. He wasn’t even in the room. He called it ‘spontaneous advancement.’”

“It turned itself on?”

“What are the energy levels?” asked Fury before Hill’s question could be answered.

“Climbing,” said Coulson.

“Mr. Fenton,” said Fury, “any comments?”

“Look, I don’t even know what this thing that you built looks like or what it’s a door to.” Danny frowned as a thought occurred to him. “You’re not expecting me to fight whatever comes out of it, are you? Because, unless you’ve got a ghost portal down there, I can’t make guarantees.”

“It’s called the Tesseract,” said Coulson. “It’s supposed to be a connection to the other side of space. A source of unlimited energy. At least,” there was a note of humor in his voice despite the evacuation taking place around them, “that’s what the scientists say.”

“A door to space?” asked Danny, firmly shoving down his excitement at the prospect. “Like, a Stargate?” It was no good, he could practically feel himself sparkling. He took a firm grip of his core and reminded himself he might need to fight before the end of the day.

“Well, no,” said Coulson. “It’s this little… cube… thing.” He made a shape with his hands.

“Oh,” said Danny, mind still whirring. “You know, if it’s really a tesseract, it isn’t a cube in just three dimensions, so bigger things could come out of it than you’d think.” He’d seen some weird portals in the Ghost Zone.

“Well, right now, we’re just getting energy.” They entered a large room with an extremely sci-fi setup. It looked like they were planning to shoot some kind of laser across the room onto a platform surrounded by strange-looking panels. There were men with guns scattered around in what was probably a well thought out formation Danny couldn’t see. There was also a dude with a bow sitting up in the rafters. He frowned down at Danny as he noticed Danny noticing him.

“Dr. Selvig!”

“Director!”

“What do we know?”

Danny allowed himself to be distracted by the centerpiece of the room, a piece of machinery built around what was indeed a little cube thing. He tilted his head and approached, trying to get a better view of it around the people in lab coats and protective gear currently swarming it. He caught mention of radiation a grimaced.

It was unlikely to kill him, but, really, everyone here should probably be wearing more PPE. You never knew what was going to come out of an interdimensional portal, after all. Except trouble. Trouble was a pretty safe bet.

It was pretty. Blue. Reminded him a little of a blue raspberry ice pop. Part of him wanted to lick it. Which was stupid. He didn’t want to wind up half what-ever-lived-on-the-other-side on top of his regular ghost nonsense.

“Mr. Fenton?”

Danny jumped and turned, refocusing on the adults, who had multiplied while he’d been daydreaming. The guy with the bow had joined them.

“Mr. Fenton? Like the Doctors Fenton I spoke to earlier?” asked Selvig.

“Yeah, it’s—”

This, of course, was when everything decided to explode. Sort of.

The blue cube shot out a beam of energy that had more than a little in common with the Fenton Bazooka’s portal setting. The beam terminated on the platform, a portal rapidly forming.

Danny slid into a fighting stance, and barely even noticed as blue energy washed over the room, throwing many less-prepared people back.

Something shaped like a man stepped through the portal.

Danny did not break his stance. Still. “An alien,” he whispered, eyes wide. If they were friendly, maybe they’d answer his questions about space. If they weren’t friendly, maybe they’d answer his questions about space after Danny beat them up.

(Danny did not go ghost. Did not even think about going ghost. There were too many people here, and the space was too open.)

Fury attempted to negotiate. Danny approved. Not everything that came through an interdimensional portal was necessarily evil.

Except this guy apparently was. Go figure. He could also deflect bullets and was very good with throwing knives, which led to Danny having to pull several of the gun guys out of their own line of fire as well as the alien’s line of knife. Who would have thought an alien’s weapon of choice would be throwing knives? The energy-blasting spear was much more in line with his expectations.

The bow guy proved to be more competent than the gun guys. This didn’t really surprise Danny. Bow guy sort of had to be competent. Otherwise, no way would they let him go around with a bow. Like, seriously. A bow.

Even so, bow guy was fighting an alien and—

“You have heart,” said the alien, raising the spear.

Danny pushed bow guy out of the way, and his mind fuzzed out.

(The human part of it, anyway.)

.

Loki didn’t know what a child was doing here, and he didn’t particularly care. The boy would do for a hostage, at least. He had a mission he had to fulfil, or else…

Or else.

“Please don’t,” he said turning with a shadow of his usual lazy affect, vaguely insulted that the human thought he could be sneaker that him, “I still need that.”

The human went on and on, apparently burdened with the delusion that he was on the same level as Loki.

Loki was burdened with other things. A glorious purpose. Glad tidings. Freedom. What could be better than freedom?

“A world free from what?” asked the human.

“From freedom,” said Loki, and wasn’t that what he believed, now? Wasn’t that what he’d been shown? “Freedom is life’s great lie.” He would know. He was an excellent liar. “Once you accept that, in your heart—” He batted away an arrow and tsked. “Shield me, boy,” he demanded. Had Thanos misrepresented the scepter’s powers? Or was the boy merely—

A dome of green surrounded him and the boy, thrumming with magic the likes of which he had only seen once, in a tome thrice forbidden.

“Oh,” said Loki, almost purring. “You are interesting. What are you?”

“Half human, half ghost,” replied the boy, tersely.

Loki had never heard of such a creature. No matter. He’d be sure to make good use of him.

“Grab the scientist,” he said, nodding at the balding man who had been with his brother when he’d fought the Destroyer in the desert.

Loki wanted the archer. He seemed interesting. Useful.

.

Fenton was under thrall. Phantom knew what that felt like. A hundred feet under red water, trying not to drown, whispers everywhere. Pulling. Pushing. Prodding.

This was different, but the principle was the same.

Neither half of him could truly ‘fight’ the other. Fenton and Phantom were a single entity. Not two in lockstep. Even so.

Fenton grabbed onto Dr. Selvig, as ordered. Phantom made sure that was all they did.

“What are you doing, boy?” snapped Loki. “Follow me! Bring the scientist.”

And so, they followed.

.

Loki breathed. Acquiring Barton had been the right choice. The boy was powerful, but, perhaps because of his unique biology, did not have Barton’s presence of mind, and couldn’t have led him to such wonderful allies.

Allies.

These weren’t truly his allies. Nor were they subjects. They were…

Loki forced himself to breathe. He just had to follow the mission. Follow the mission, let Thanos’s army through. He’d been promised this world. He would have this world.

And then he could be… His mind stuttered over the next word, and he shook his head, trying to drive out the painful buzz of Thanos’s herald and mouthpiece trying to contact him.

He looked up at the drones bustling around, all according to his will. Except the boy, who stared at him, somehow managing to be both utterly blank and challenging at the same time.

He was alone, here.

He was alone.

But what did it matter? Bad men always wound up alone, and Loki… Loki could never be a good man.

#danny phantom #marvel cinematic universe #avengers #dannymay 2021 #dannymay 2021 day 28: alone #dannymay #danny phantom x marvel cinematic universe crossover #op!Danny/Marvel #Not much op!Danny yet tho

[chickenmcstucky]

meet me in the hallway

Bucky Barnes x reader

Light angst, fluff || 5.1k

Your bad day gets worse when your less-than-friendly teammate catches you having a breakdown over your shitty morning.

A/N: So this is the second work I’m posting, but actually the first I wrote. Inspired by my own bad morning, lol. Nothing like a little cathartic writing. I’d love feedback!

You had to physically stop your whole body from tapping along with your impatient foot. If you didn’t get out of here and back to your sunny balcony soon, you might actually die of frustration. Sure, the whole sunny day stretched out in front of you, waiting, but it was the principle of the thing. Wasting sun is sacrilege to you. Still, the young woman behind the counter was only doing her job as she gathered your prescription and searched for the coupon you asked for. Why was healthcare so expensive?

As your body cooled from the workout you’d finished just before hopping over to the pharmacy, your thoughts wandered to the lazy hours of writing, tanning, and listening to music you had planned for the day. The team was between missions and somehow the stars aligned and your time off brought gorgeous weather and some much-needed you time. The thought relaxed you as the woman finally rang up your total; as you swiped your card you put your Starbucks order into the app and prepared to finally get home and enjoy your day.

That is, until the card machine gave a deep chirp and the cashier informed you your card wasn’t covering the entire purchase. You balked - how could this happen? The insurance debit was loaded up for the year, ready for any medical purchases. It rarely ran out so early in the year, and it was just April! Your brain scrambled to make sense of it. Had the account rules changed and some of your purchase didn’t qualify? No, that couldn’t be it, you’d done this same process just a few weeks ago.

Your cheeks bloomed with heat as you realized the declined card was the only one you’d brought with you, convinced it would be a quick errand and seeing no reason to bring your whole wallet for the short trip down the street from the Tower. Fuck. And there were people behind you; you shuddered to imagine what they might be thinking of you in your sweaty workout clothes as you stammered to the cashier you’d have to come back. Just fucking great. You felt your good mood at the prospect of a sunny day slipping as you left the store as quickly as you could, trying to save a little face.

***

Making your way around the construction - why did they need to close the entire sidewalk? - you hastily headed back to the Tower to grab your wallet from your personal quarters, wondering all the way how this could happen. Why do the simple things always have to go wrong? Rationally, you knew this wasn’t a big deal. You would just pay the balance out of pocket and deal with the insurance later. But it was embarrassing and annoying and just plain inconvenient. Sure, you had the time and the money to spare, but why couldn’t things just work how they’re meant to? Your swirling thoughts brought you through the private lobby of the Tower and to the elevators that led to the personal floors; angrily jamming the button for your floor, you whipped out your phone to check the balance on the insurance card.

Your jaw literally dropped as your eyes caught sight of the balance. There was more than enough to cover the charge at the store! Now you were really upset. Jesus, why was this happening to you? Stupid, simple nature of the occurrence aside, you felt tears of frustration welling to the surface as you berated yourself internally. Why did you have to be lazy and only take the one card? If you’d just taken your whole wallet and been prepared, you could’ve saved yourself so much humiliation and frustration. And time. You’d brought it on yourself, you always did. Your frustration with the pharmacy and your anger at the insurance company quickly turned to annoyance at yourself and your lackadaisical ways. Why were you like this?

You shoved yourself further into the corner of the elevator, letting your head fall back against the wall as it ascended to the personal floors. You could feel your face was still ripe with embarrassment, your throat thick with unshed tears. God, why did everything have to make you cry? Embarrassment, anger, and frustration brought tears to your eyes more often than not, while sadness rarely wet your eyes. Of course, no one else knew that and you felt like a dramatic cry-baby every time you got teary-eyed in front of your teammates and friends. You were an Avenger, dammit! As the elevator signaled your floor and the doors whooshed open, you could only hope the walk to your room would be deserted. You wanted to make a quick exit before anyone saw your despair.

***

The hope was short-lived. You walked out of the elevator with your gaze on the floor, and smack into a well-muscled chest.

“Oh, sorry,” you mumbled, trying to scoot around the body without making eye contact.

“Walk much?” and if that wasn’t the last voice you wanted to hear. Of course, your card gets declined and you get humiliated to tears, and not only could the universe not provide you a painless return to your apartment, it also brought you face to face with Bucky Barnes. You were hardly in the mood to deal with him on a good day, let alone today. He rarely acknowledged your existence except to quip mockery at you, it seemed. At first you thought he was just like that, but you soon realized he was perfectly funny and friendly with the others, if quiet. So it was something about you; what, you didn’t know. And you’d accepted it. You didn’t need him to like you, honestly. His attitude towards you might have brought you to tearful rages sometimes, but only in the quiet solace of your room where you could freely wonder why he despised you so. His devilish good looks and killer smile didn’t help. Avoiding him was the best strategy.

“Can you just not?” you snapped at him as he blocked your way down the hallway, apparently hellbent on making sure you knew he was making fun of you. As if you weren’t painfully aware of how he felt about you. It didn’t help your girlish crush, the little voice in the back of your head always telling you maybe he was mean because he liked you. Bullshit.

“Whoa there, no need to get in a twist doll. Was just havin’ a little fun is all. What’s got you so worked up?” you heard the teasing lilt to his voice but the question forced your eyes to his anyways. God, the asshole was smirking, those gorgeous blue eyes glinting with mirth. Horrified, you felt tears welling up in your eyes again because the universe liked laughing at you, apparently.

“God Bucky do you ever fuck off? Honestly,” your voice broke on the last word as tears threatened their way out of your glassy eyes. “Just leave me alone, why do you always have to be so mean? What did I ever do to you?” the words tumbled out before you could stop them, your anger and hurt getting the better of you.

Realizing your outburst, you floundered in the hallway as Bucky looked at you with a confusing mixture of shock and hurt on his face. Did he really have the audacity to be upset with you? After the way he’s treated you, so often making jokes at your expense? In the back of your head, you knew the jokes weren’t that bad, nothing more than you’d say in a harmless rib against your other teammates. But they were your friends; Bucky was a menace. Not knowing what else to say as the shocked silence stretched on, you averted your eyes from his now stony face and tried to will your tears - and your anger - away so you could get what you came for, finish your errand, and try to salvage the rest of your day. How did things go so wrong so fast?

You didn’t notice as Bucky’s expression morphed from hurt to cocky as he prepared to deliver his next blow.

“Oh, woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning I see, sweetheart.” His smiling tone grated on your nerves - of course he was still making fun of you even after you yelled at him for just that. He couldn’t just be nice, could he?

“At least I sleep in a bed,” you spat, meeting his eyes once more. You knew it was a low blow, immediately regretting it as a pained expression flitted across his face. You sighed - only you could end up feeling guilty for dishing his own mockery back at him after months of his unanswered jibes. “Sorry,” you muttered, your eyes falling closed in shame and frustration at your inability to contain your emotions.

“Yea, okay, I probably deserved that,” you stopped yourself from mocking his ‘probably,’ refusing to dig a deeper hole for yourself, though the eye-roll was unavoidable. “I guess I’ll get out of your way then,” Bucky acquiesced, his voice quieter now.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his flesh arm reach out as if to pat your shoulder, but he jerked it away as if he hadn’t meant it to move. He hesitated as he half-turned away; why wasn’t he leaving, and since when did Bucky get so unsure of himself? Usually he moved with a sure swagger that riled you right up knowing he thought so highly of himself. Of course, you knew he probably didn’t do it on purpose; your inner feelings about someone had always colored your observations of them and Bucky was no exception - sometimes you manufactured your dislike, but it was inescapable. He infuriated you.

Your head swirled with anger, leftover humiliation, shame at your words to Bucky, and confusion at why he was still in the fucking hallway. You stuttered, mouth moving without your permission but no words forming.

Bucky glanced back at you, and your downturned yet clearly turmoiled face brought an unseen soft, caring look to his chiseled face. It hurt him to see you upset, though you were unaware. He didn’t know why his words to you always came out so biting. He knew how to act around the rest of the team but for some reason you brought out his inner turmoil and apparently his coping mechanism was to just make fun of you. Was he protecting himself? But what did his feelings matter when he had so clearly hurt you? His heart broke realizing that your lack of response to his mocking over the weeks wasn’t good-natured but instead was silent hurt. Fuck, he’d fucked up.

“Honey, why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?” the softness in his voice was so foreign and surprising to you that you jerked your head up, meeting his eyes in shock. “Maybe…I can help,” he gestured awkwardly.

You must’ve pulled a face at that, because his head immediately rolled back as he quipped out, “what, is it so surprising I can be nice?”

“Well…yeah,” you half-whispered, your mouth once more speaking without your mind’s permission. Suddenly you couldn’t meet his eyes anymore, your gaze falling anywhere but his soft blues. Once again you felt shame flood through you, even though you had told the truth - it was shocking to see Bucky offer kindness, at least to you. Had you somehow misread him so horribly? Fuck, there were the tears of frustration again. As if you weren’t embarrassed enough, this time a few actually fell, carving their way down your burning cheeks as your breath hitched.

“Shit. Okay, please don’t cry sweet girl, I’m sorry. I know I’m an asshole. I - I don’t -,” he cut off, not knowing how to explain. At his saccharine tone and the pet name - this time caressed with gentleness rather than thrown with cocky disdain - you broke as tears fell down in rivulets, your body wracking with silent sobs. Why were you such a mess today? Sure, you wore your emotions on your sleeve, but even you could control yourself more than this. Bucky’s sudden softness had caught you off guard. Where on earth was it coming from?

Unsure what to do as you exposed your raw nerves to him like this, you wrapped your arms around yourself as Bucky twitched in front of you, hesitating before once more reaching out to you, with purpose this time. He tugged at your shoulders until you were pressed into his chest, hiding your face in his faded blue henley. You felt the tension bleed out of you as he slowly brought his arms around you, his flesh hand running up and down your back in comfort.

“Hey there, it’s alright,” he cooed quietly, “it’s okay. We can figure it out. I’m sorry sweetheart, I’m sorry.” It was tearing him apart, seeing you cry. You’d never reacted to his jokes like that, at least not to his face. He wondered how often you held your tears in until you escaped to your room, and his heart fractured. He hated who he turned into around you. He’d fix it, he had to. A pretty girl like you shouldn’t cry over a stupid guy like him.

You finally hiccuped to a stop, the tears no longer falling as his sweet ministrations calmed you down. Before more embarrassment over your breakdown could set in, Bucky grasped your shoulders and set you away from him so he could look you in your eyes.

“Now, you tell me what’s going on. I’ll fix it,” his hands gripped you tighter with his last words, assuring you. His sudden change of heart, while shocking, was strangely believable. You trusted his conviction that he wanted to help you.

Sighing shakily, you sniffled and began to explain. “It’s stupid really, Bucky. You don’t gotta worry,” you deflected, walls going back up even though you longed for his comfort, his friendship that you hadn’t allowed yourself to crave.

“Little darlin, it ain’t nothing if it makes you this upset. Please talk to me,” his soft eyes pleaded with you, the kindness floating in their depths piercing straight to your heart. Your resolve - built less from stubbornness now and more from niggling shame at letting him see to your core - crumbled.

“It was just gonna be a quick run to the pharmacy - I needed a refill - and then I was gonna come back here and sit in the sun and try to just enjoy my time off alone but my fucking card got fucking declined even though it has enough money and God, Buck, it was humiliating. And then I came back to get my wallet and -,” you cut yourself off, unsure, not wanting to accuse Bucky of making you cry. He had, but it was the whole situation that had really gotten you going. You didn’t want to point the finger at him when he was being nice for once.

Your sudden silence clued Bucky in to the rest of the story quickly enough, though he took sweet pause at the nickname that had slipped from your pretty mouth. He had the grace to look a bit ashamed, but continued on. “Okay, that’s not so bad then, huh? You can just go back and finish up, it’s still early in the day, plenty of time to relax,” Bucky assured you, thinking he’d figured this out pretty easily.

“Easy for you to say,” you grumbled. “You weren’t the one humiliated in front of multiple people thinking you couldn’t pay. I mean I basically ran out of there, Bucky. Why am I so - UGHHH.”

He very nearly laughed, covering himself by clearing his throat - now that you were talking to him and his dumb brain was letting him be nice to you, he wasn’t about to ruin things by upsetting you again. He wasn’t going to push you away. He found it endearing how open you were with your emotions, wishing he could be more like you some days when his melancholy got the best of him. Maybe then he wouldn’t have to suffer alone.

“I see…well I’m real sorry you had to face that. I’ve been there a time or two, it’s no fun. But it ain’t bad as all that - they weren’t paying you that much attention. It’s New York City, everyone is so self-absorbed I bet they didn’t even notice. That’s not to say you don’t deserve attention ‘cause you do - I mean - that’s not - …yea,” he trailed off, cutting his rambling before he really embarrassed himself. He met your eyes sheepishly, surprised to see a small smile there. His heart soared knowing he was the one to put it there, even at the cost of some embarrassment himself.

“Well, I don’t have much of a choice, I need the prescription today. And - fuck! Whyyyyyyy,” you groaned, your face scrunching as you whined. And damn if that wasn’t just the cutest thing, Bucky couldn’t help but think.

The lilting, light tone returned to his voice as he gently laughed at your groaning. “What is it now, then?”

You moaned, blood rushing to your face as you admitted the silly annoyance, “I forgot my drink at Starbucks. I ordered it while I was in line at the pharmacy, I was gonna grab it on my way back. God, it’ll be warm now - or gone. Icing on the cake, just what I needed,” you sighed, resigned to the wasted money.

Bucky smiled genially as he reached over to ruffle your hair, tucking a stray lock behind your ear with surprising softness. You weren’t sure you’d ever gotten this close to his metal appendage. Something deep inside you fluttered at the prospect of more gentle touches, exploring each other and - now where the hell did that come from? You were beginning to think this morning’s commotion had somehow addled your brain. You shook your head at yourself, emptying those thoughts and Bucky chuckled. This time, though, it felt like he was laughing with you rather than at you. That was….refreshing. Nice, even. You yearned to make him laugh more.

“Alright. It’s no big deal,” Bucky calmly spoke, again determined to bring that smile back to your face and maybe, just maybe, get to know you as a friend. Something about how you’d opened up to him gave him hope he hadn’t ruined things beyond repair with his boyish taunting. He’d treat you like you deserved, be a good man to you, if he could take this chance.

“How about this - you go back, get that paid for, and I’ll go get your drink. If it’s warm or gone, I’ll make them make you a new one. Then you can get on with your day, and I’ll, uh…get out of your hair, I guess,” Bucky trailed off, suddenly unsure. Would this truce be short lived, lasting only until you resolved your dilemma? He guessed he’d deserve it if so, but he couldn’t help but hope you’d stick around him. He’d just have to give it his best shot.

“That’s - wow Buck, you don’t have to go to all that trouble. It’s nothing, silly really, I told you,” you scuffed your feet along the floor, suddenly feeling burdensome. A fearful voice in the back of your head wondered if you were just giving him more ammunition for future joking.

“It’s no trouble darlin’. It’s…it’s the least I can do for ya. I guess I know it’s a miracle you even talk to me. I don’t know why I’m so..” he cut off again, still not sure how to explain without exposing his inner thoughts. “Now, what’s the order?”

“Oh, uhm…,” you balked, disbelieving at what you were about to have to say to Bucky. “It’s, uh, called a Pink Drink?” you let the name escape your lips uncertainly, waiting for the inevitable mocking. But to your surprise, the sweetest smile graced Bucky’s face, lighting up his eyes.

“Well, if that ain’t just adorable,” he gently joked to you as you gave a grudging smile. “One Pink Drink it is, honey.”

And wow, these sudden sweet names were getting to you. You felt your heart flutter as he winked at you before sending you on your way down the hall to your room, finally about to clean up the mess you’d made this morning. He even waited for you to get your wallet, escorting you back to the elevator and riding down to street level with you.

“Go on then,” he encouraged, seeing you hesitate again. “I’ll meet you back up there,” he nodded back towards the Tower.

You smiled softly, half at him and half at the ground you were once more staring at, before making your way back to the pharmacy.

***

You supposed the second trip was actually rather painless. Not a big deal at all, just as Bucky had assured you. Perhaps you could salvage your afternoon indeed, let the sun burn the frustration and embarrassment out of you. Though something told you your newfound confusion at Bucky’s kindness would soon take hold. You still couldn’t believe the gentleness with which he handled you, the kind softness of his words as he comforted you - was this really the same man who spared few words for you but for jokes and laughter at your expense? Something had…shifted. You pushed the uneasy, yet warm feeling away. No time to dissect that right now, you scolded yourself as you headed up the elevator once more, this time for good. You were determined to put this morning behind you and enjoy your rare sunny day off.

As you stepped off the elevator to head to your room, you absently wondered where Bucky was. Surely he had made it back before you - the Starbucks was much closer than the pharmacy. Yet he was nowhere to be found. You weren’t sure if you were bothered or relieved about that. Bothered that he might have abandoned his mission to help you, relieved you might not have to face him again. At least before, his unkindness was certain. You had learned to deal with it. Now, this new kind, gentle Bucky? Just what in the hell were you supposed to do with that? You didn’t know what to think.

***

These swirling thoughts stuck with you as you walked into your room; you were so distracted by your own internal monologue that the open door didn’t phase you, nor did the breeze coming in from the now ajar balcony door catch your eye. Absentmindedly you flitted around the room, putting away your wallet and goods. When the breeze coming in from the balcony caught a lock of your hair, blowing it across your face, you froze. Why was the balcony door open? You certainly hadn’t left it that way.

Peering out to investigate, you stopped right in your tracks at the sight that met your eyes. Your lounge chair was covered in one of your beach towels, bluetooth speaker already gently playing your sunshine playlist. And there on the table was your Pink Drink. You were flabbergasted - had Bucky come in and done this? For…you? The mere thought of him taking the time to set this up sent your heart soaring. But where was he? Perhaps your earlier thoughts were right - his sudden kindness had run out, and he was tired of being your friend already. Somehow, you couldn’t quite believe that to be the truth.

Determined not to let this chance go, because now that you’d had a taste of Bucky’s sweet side you would be damned if you couldn’t sink your teeth in, you set off in search of the brooding man. Wandering down the hallway, you steeled your resolve - you were going to thank him, and you weren’t going to get flustered this time. Maybe this could be a new start for both of you. Maybe he was more than you thought.

The door to Bucky’s room was open, and you heard the soft notes of Billie Holiday float into the corridor. You pushed your hesitation aside and walked in, not seeing him anywhere until your gaze fell upon a brunette head just peaking over the top of a chair on his balcony. Walking towards the glinting sunlight outside, you lightly knocked on the doorjamb to alert him to your presence, knowing he had probably heard you come in anyways.

“Hey,” he exclaimed softly, rolling his head to the side to glance at you. He seemed less…pompous than earlier, at least, but less energetic too. Like something had popped his bubble.

You stepped gingerly out onto the balcony, as if you were wary of startling him. As if you even could. Suddenly you were lost for words, the atmosphere awkward in a soft way. Unspoken words flitted between the two of you, both lost as to how to approach the new dynamic that crash landed in your laps earlier.

“Uh,” you started, lapsing into a giggle. “Thanks for the uh, for my drink. And stuff,” you finished uneasily, letting out a sharp laugh at your inability to articulate your appreciation for his earlier kindness. You still weren’t sure if there would be more where that came from, or if you had simply taken him aback with your tears and his sudden gentility was a stress reaction. You steeled yourself to be laughed out of his room, just in case.

“My pleasure, sweet girl,” he sighed, gazing out over the city. “Least I could do, really.”

“I - Bucky,” you heaved a deep breath and continued, “thank you, you really didn’t have to be so….sweet.”

He didn’t respond immediately and you wondered if you’d taken it too far, but before you could get too worried he spoke again.

“Darlin,” he started, the term of endearment dripping from his lips sweet like honey, “I owe ya a real apology. I never wanted to be unkind to you, but it felt like I couldn’t stop it. Whenever I see you I just…forget myself. It’s like I don’t know how to act, you scare the decency right outta me.”

Was this really happening? You gaped, “wha - Bucky, what?”

He held up a hand to stop you as he kept speaking, his words further shocking you yet sending a warm buzz up your spine at the same time. “I’m sorry I’ve treated you the way I have. I like joking with people but it’s not right that it hurt you and I kept on. I’m sorry I made ya cry. It ain’t an excuse but girl, you really terrify me. In a good way, I think, but I didn’t let myself see that. I hope it ain’t too late, you know…to be friendly?”

You were sure he could see the astonishment clear as day on your face, and you watched as his own expression contorted with unease. It wasn’t hard to see this admission was uncomfortable for him. But why? Because it pained him to admit he was wrong, or because…he was as afraid of rejection as you were?

“It’s not!” you blurted before you realized you had even spoken. ‘“It’s not too late.”

Bucky looked at you with a small smile, hope blooming in his eyes. You couldn’t believe your shit day had turned into this - who would have ever thought Bucky Barnes, the asshole next door, could be nice. Could apologize, even.

An idea struck you and before you could lose your confidence, you spoke, “Do you wanna come sit out with me?”

You left the invitation hanging desperately in the air as you shifted from one foot to the other, hoping he would accept.

“Only if you let me have some of that drink,” he laughed as he got up and ushered you back inside, through to your own room and balcony. You smiled to yourself but stayed quiet as you sat down on your chair; Bucky got comfortable in the chair next to you as the tune of a love song permeated the thick, warm air around you.

Silently grasping your drink, you handed it to him. It felt like a peace offering.

His rosy lips wrapping around the edge of the cup mesmerized you, a rivulet of condensation dripping from the cup down his arm as he swallowed.

His low laugh snapped you out of your reverie. “Well?” you inquired.

His lips stretched into a smile, “sweet drink. Perfect for a sweet girl,” a husky tone to his voice as he handed the drink back to you, your mouth agape once more.

A laugh ripped its way out of your throat, loud and boisterous and before you knew it you gasped out, “who are you and what have you done with Bucky? So charming, jesus.”

“Guess I have my moments. Gonna try harder to have them around you,” he let out a breathy laugh, still unsure how to act around you. But this felt better, lighter. For the first time in a while, he felt at ease within himself.

“I think I’d like that,” you spoke surely. Then a streak of courage hit you and you went on, “maybe next time, I could go with you? I mean, you could go with me - together, uh..”

Bucky smiled then, wide, “you askin’ me on a date there honey?” he cooed, joking but in kindness.

This time, you were ready to dish it back. “If you think one drink and some sweet talking is enough to get a date with me you got another thing coming, Barnes!” you jibed. “I was merely offering to return the favor,” you turned your face up with false haughtiness, but your laughter and the way you averted your eyes told him the truth. Turning over a new leaf and all that, he guessed.

“Well, I suppose that’s a start,” he laughed, hope bubbling in his chest. “That’s a start.”

As you watched the sun reach its midday summit, your mind wandered. What a day it had been already. You never thought you’d share such emotion with Bucky, that he’d be capable of handling it, or even sharing some in return. Maybe there was some truth to his words - you wouldn’t let the pain of his mocking slide so easily, but you felt he deserved the second chance he was craving. You deserved it, too.

You stole a quiet glance at him, your cheeks warming as you realize he’d been staring at you. He looked away quickly, but not before you caught a blush spreading across his cheeks. Perhaps, you thought, bad mornings weren’t so awful if they ended with afternoons like this.

***

#Bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #Bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #Bucky barnes x fem! reader #Bucky barnes fluff #mcu fanfic #marvel fanfic #mcu #marvel #soft Bucky barnes #pink drink #Avengers tower #sweet Bucky barnes #fanfic #fanfiction #new writer #Avenger Bucky Barnes #asshole Bucky Barnes #Lily writes #Bucky barnes x female reader

[lokigodofaces]

Y’all I had this dream where for some reason at the end of Loki Variant!Loki decided he had to save Main!Loki. It was because Loki was the only one that could save the main universe from something along the road, but it would get messy for some reason if Variant!Loki came to deal with it. So V!Loki decided to save M!Loki from dying at the hands of Thanos, but he had to do it in a way that would work seemlessly and not make too big of a time mess.

So V!Loki studied the events leading up to M!Loki’s death and was trying to figure out what to do when Mobius said that if M!Loki didn’t die it would cause all these problems because then Infinity War and Endgame wouldn’t play out right. Basically, things would go differently if Loki was there with Thor. So now V!Loki has to figure this out because he has to make sure IW and EG go about the same while saving M!Loki. 

So V!Loki decides to take M!Loki’s place. Sometime in between the destruction of Asgard and Thanos’ attack on the Statesman, V!Loki swaps M!Loki out for himself. Logically, I think a good place would be right before/after the scene where Thor and Loki see each other for the first time on the Statesman, and Loki shows that he is actually there and it isn’t an illusion. But that wasn’t included in my dream, that’s just me now thinking that would be a good time to make the switcheroo. 

So V!Loki kidnaps M!Loki and takes M!Loki’s place, and is killed by Thanos while keeping a stunning act up. No one thought he wasn’t the right Loki. Which is perfect. Obviously, V!Loki had to do something about M!Loki. Otherwise, M!Loki would go to Earth or wherever either during IW or after IW but before EG (depends travel time), which would change events. And V!Loki has a plan to keep M!Loki out of trouble until it is safe for him to come out. He has to take M!Loki off of the Statesman because otherwise M!Loki could die in the Power Stone incited explosion in IW. 

So V!Loki uses magic to knock out M!Loki who is not expecting to be attacked magically at all. Plus, V!Loki uses a type of magic that the Lokis are vulnerable to (I’m sorry, my dream did not explain magic lore lol) so M!Loki was basically screwed. V!Loki also put a spell on M!Loki that stopped him from using magic, just in case. So V!Loki is about to drag M!Loki off of the Statesman and to Chronyca. But then Hulk wanted to talk to Loki so V!Loki has to shove M!Loki into a space closet (that for some reason looked like the closet in Tangled? Just more futuristic and different colors.) Hulk was nice and said he didn’t want to smash Loki which was actually pretty sweet and V!Loki was thanking anyone that was listening because he’s from 2012 and had just barely been Hulk smashed. 

Hulk leaves, but M!Loki wakes up and is opening the closet door (I’m just realizing now that he was really now out for long). So V!Loki shapeshifts into some other form (he looked like an old man, kind of like Dick van Dyke in Night at the Museum) because it would be a little problematic if M!Loki knew he was being kidnapped by himself. M!Loki knew that he couldn’t use his magic, and he knew that he was kinda screwed, but he wasn’t going down without a fight. He tried to manipulate V!Loki into a position that would give M!Loki an advantage, but he didn’t realize he was literally trying to manipulate himself. Which didn’t work out so well for him. Anyway, after a little knife skirmish and failed attempt to get help, M!Loki is once again knocked out by V!Loki. 

V!Loki skedaddles out of there, unconscious M!Loki in tow. V!Loki does more magic every once in a while to keep M!Loki asleep because dude just burns through magic sedation apparently. So V!Loki is stuck looking like Dick van Dyke, just in case M!Loki wakes up and sees him. At this point M!Loki is restrained because you can’t just not restrain him if you are kidnapping him. He isn’t an idiot, he’s ready to fight his kidnapper, and even if he could just mess with a couple buttons he could sabotage the ship. Better safe than sorry. After a while, V!Loki gets tired of constantly magically sedating M!Loki. He’s tied up, can’t do magic, and V!Loki has the advantage because M!Loki doesn’t know it’s another version of himself that is kidnapping himself. So he’s not too worried about M!Loki being awake while tied up (and blindfolded? He might have been though I’m not sure anymore). So M!Loki tries to get information off of his kidnapper but V!Loki just says that he needs M!Loki’s help with something, which isn’t actually a lie, he does need help with, oh, you know, saving the universe. So M!Loki is freaking out because nothing has happened like this since Thanos. He knows that unless something big changes he isn’t going to be able to escape and if this guy needs his help, he could be willing to torture him for it. He’s already kidnapped him and disabled Loki’s magic, who knows what else will happen. M!Loki says something about Thor because M!Loki had already established that he was sticking around, and now he’s gone. So he’s hoping that Thor won’t just think M!Loki ran off or whatever and will actually be concerned and know there’s a problem, but he’s honestly not so sure about that. And then V!Loki says that won’t be a problem, meaning that he can just use time travel to go back to the second after he leaves, so it’ll be like he never left. M!Loki takes this to mean that something happened to the remaining Asgardians and is worried about that. So now he’s freaking out over what he thinks happened to Thor and what he thinks will happen to him.

And M!Loki is pretty good and concealing his emotions and makes it look like he’s just a little fidgety because he’s tied up, but V!Loki sees the signs because he too would do something similar in that situation. So he’s feeling bad because this alternate future version of himself is on the brink of a panic attack and he is 99% this has something to do with Thanos, one of the experiences the two Lokis share, so he knows what M!Loki must be feeling. But V!Loki knows this is necessary so he deals with it. 

So they get to Chronyca. Chronyca is home of the chronicons, a race that observes and studies other races but never interferes, unless it is to prevent an extinction level threat (we see them in Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.). So the chronicons are pretty suspicious about this random Dick van Dyke dude that shows up. V!Loki leaves M!Loki tied up in the ship and goes to the chronicons and turns back into V!Loki and has some TVA device that shows them what will happen if M!Loki dies and explains his plan to the chronicons. Seeing as this is preventing an extinction level threat of many peoples, the chronicons agree to help. 

V!Loki shapeshifts back to Dick van Dyke lookalike and goes onto the ship where M!Loki is (I’m pretty sure M!Loki was blindfolded now, but V!Loki still is shapeshifted in front of him just in case) and tells M!Loki something along the lines of everything being alright, and that M!Loki doesn’t have to panic. Well, as you can imagine, M!Loki doesn’t take this well. How would you react if you were kidnapped and your kidnapper said that it would be okay and that you don’t need to panic? Thinking that he’s going to go through a Thanos-like experience again, he promises that he’ll fight back and won’t be compliant. V!Loki says that he respects that and that M!Loki better tell anyone else that kidnaps him in the future the same thing. V!Loki knows about Thanos and still isn’t sure how he’d react in a similar situation because it had just barely happened to him whereas M!Loki has had years to sorta recover. V!Loki knocks M!Loki out to get him off the ship, but figures that M!Loki will wake up one more time before the next stage of the plan is put into action. 

The chronicons put M!Loki inside a chamber they use to send chronicons to distant planets they observe, which can double as a cryofreeze chamber (like in AoS). V!Loki takes the spell off M!Loki that stops him from using his powers. The chronicons strap M!Loki inside the chamber, tying him down, and V!Loki then enchants the straps to stop M!Loki from using magic. V!Loki waits until M!Loki wakes up, startled by the change of setting, no longer blindfolded. M!Loki is full on panicking now because this is the same position he was in when Thanos first tortured him, and V!Loki knows this and feels so bad that he is putting another version of himself through a panic attack. V!Loki uses magic to calm M!Loki’s mind and gives his final farewells. Tells him good luck, apologizes for this mess, and tells him that everything will be alright, and that the chronicons will keep him safe. Then he closes the chamber and turns the cryofreeze on, and in a few seconds M!Loki is in a coma. 

The chronicons promise to keep M!Loki safe until it is safe for him to be awakened. They set a timer on the chamber for six or seven years, and when the timer runs out the chamber will turn off and M!Loki will be awakened. It is possible that M!Loki will be snapped away by Thanos, but as long as they keep the chamber in the same position it was in whenn M!Loki was snapped, he would return there in five years and everything would be fine. The plan was to drop M!Loki off somewhere away from Chronyca with resources (food, water, ship, fuel) to get somewhere else. There would be a few chronicons to make sure everything went well and that he gets out safely. And if M!Loki does spot them, they’d tell him that in order to prevent extinctions they would at times interfere, and that a time travelling friend told them of a threat only Loki could stop, but he couldn’t stop if he was killed by Thanos. So the time traveler took Loki’s place to save him from Thanos and save the universe. 

And then he has to learn about IW and EG and he feels bad that he couldn’t do more but it wasn’t his fault and he feels bad that someone died for him but it wasn’t like he was given a choice. So then he has to go find Thor because he doesn’t think anyone else could possibly believe him (even with a message from V!Loki in the van Dyke disguise explaining the plan) and that’s how Loki ends up in Love and Thunder.

Like, absolutely crazy plot going on here, and I doubt it would ever happen in the MCU, but it would be cool.

#loki series #loki #infinity war #endgame #loki variant #chronyca #chronicons #agents of shield #would be absolutely crazy #also best dream EVER #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #marvel

[simpingforsoftboys]

Too Little Too Late

ft. IwaOi

G/N reader

TW: Neglect, manipulation, toxicity in general, swearing

Read this first

tysm for the request anon! It’s about time Y/n stood up for themselves don’t you think? That’s the thing about relationships like these. It’s so hard to get out of them once you’re in deep- even if you can see every single red flag clear as day.

Also I’ve decided that since these are lengthy- there will be separate parts for Kuroken, SakuAtsu, and OsaSuna in the future.

 This one is something I actually turned into a two shot: part one and part two. So same plot line, just goes more in depth on the “break up” part.

This was it, you were finally going to do it. After two decades of following your soon to be ex boyfriends around, it was time for you to step out of their shadow- into the limelight of independency. Still, you felt like a coward- leaving them while neither were even in the country. It was petty perhaps, but deep down within your heart- the vindictive, evil, and cruel part of you whispered that this was what they deserved. You were nearly finished packing- two suitcases stuffed to the max with your clothing and any small, expensive purchase you bought for yourself. Now all you needed to do was shove anything else that could fit into your duffel bag. 

This wasn’t a new idea. Leaving them that is. In fact, you’d been thinking about it for years already. Honestly, you doubted you’d have even begun noticing just how unbalanced your current dynamic with your two “lovers” was, until a stranger- turned friend had pointed it out. 

His name had been Miya Atsumu- he had gone to Tokyo University just like you and was the starting setter for their volleyball team. He was flirty at first, acting like a stereotypical frat boy. Despite telling him you had not one- but two partners- he hadn’t left you alone at that fateful party. 

“Wait... yer datin’ that newbie setter from Argentina? AND Iwaizumi... the one who’s boutta transfer over to that American university?” Atsumu questioned incredulously, nearly doing a spit take, he leans over your figure and places his red solo cup down on the counter behind you. 

“Yeah... I know it’s not a normal relationship-” You begin, already used to defending you and your lovers. 

“Nah, that’s not what I’m sayin’ darlin.” The blonde replies, his words make him seem as though he’s hitting on you but somehow there’s an undertone of genuine concern. “Neither of em have even spared ya a glance since ya got here! Seems like they’re the ones in love- not the three of ya.”

You had frowned at his words, shaking them off easily. The three of you were in love, besides, no stranger could have deduced that at first glance- if anything he was just trying to meddle in your happy relationship... so why did his words continue to plague you that night, and for many nights after that? 

Looking back on it now, you should have listened to Atsumu sooner. 

You had countless discussions with Hajime and Toru after the night of the party. They had seemed genuinely sorry and made an effort to be more inclusive. However, they slowly fell back into old habits- time and time again- as if they had forgotten the promises they had made. 

There would be no more discussions, no more nights staying up, waiting for them to come back home from their date. 

There would be no more of the three of you- just Hajime and Toru. 

That thought prevented you from picking up the framed photo on your bedside- the one of you three. It had been taken at a children’s festival that the three of you had taken Takeru too. It was probably the last photo where you had been so blinded by your love for them that you completely glossed over the fact that the only people they were looking at were each other. 

“Y/n... what are you doing?” A raspy voice called from the bedroom’s doorway, startling you from your memories. Body shaking, you turned around to face the owner of the voice. “We came home early to surprise you... only to find you packing your bags?” 

The same two people that you didn’t want to see stood before you. Both toted suitcases and smelt like the airport. You couldn’t find it within yourself to look them in the eyes, fearing that if you did you’d lose your strength, turn around, and begin unpacking.

“Y/n... prince(ss), what’s going on? Talk to us.” Toru whispered, speaking to you as if you were a cornered animal. That analogy wasn’t wrong per say but it did nothing to help you calm your nerves. 

You knew it shouldn’t have but for some reason his tone had made your heart skip a beat.

“Yeah babe, let’s put the bags down and take a seat... we can talk about this right after me and Toru shower.” Hajime agreed, his poor choice of words stirring anger within your soul- intense and smoldering like Zeus’s lightning bolts.

“No!” You cry, tears of pent up anger, hurt, and every other negative repressed emotion, begins to well up in your eyes. “I’m going to say this one last time- then I’m going to leave. We won’t talk. I’m not going to... to wait until you finish showering. I’m sick and tired of this- this absolute fucking BULLSHIT!” 

They stare at you wide eyed, not quite knowing how to respond. You don’t even give them the chance to think about how to do so- instead you opt to continue your rant. 

“I love you two so damn much. So, so much- to the point that it hurts me.” Your gaze flickered between the two of them. “Loving you... it breaks my heart. I can’t do it anymore Toru, Hajime. I wanted too- God knows I do. But I can’t keep doing this-”

Toru lets his carry on drop to the floor and races over, attempting to embrace you in a hug. Every bone, every fiber, literally every part of you is begging you to stay trapped in his arms. He’s warm and he’s here. It’s all you’ve ever wanted. 

Too little too late.

You shove him off, biting back sobs. Hajime hurries behind him, catching the taller male as he falls. 

“Y/n calm down what’s going on? What did we do?” Olive green eyes flit over to meet yours, they’re just as lovely as they have always been. But you notice that they’re also cold, like jade bracelets and old watered down matcha tea. 

“It’s what you didn’t do Haji.” You say and they can see the heart ache on your face. “I love you but you don’t love me- not as much as I love you at least.” Both of them look like they want to argue but you shake your head- effectively silencing them. The picture on the night stand stares back at you tauntingly- ignorance was indeed bliss it seems. Grasping it lightly you place it on the ground and kicked it gently, letting it slide over to where Toru and Hajime are still seated on the ground. The brunette takes it in his hands and examines it. 

“This was when we took Takeru to the children’s festival!” 

“Yeah... we were so happy then... where did that go wrong Y/n? When did you stop smiling like this?” Hajime whispers. 

“I stopped smiling like that when I realized the truth- about us.” They watch as you take a deep breath, composing yourself. “It took me a long while, but I’ve been coming to terms with it.” A choked gasp escapes your lips, leading you to quickly spill the rest of your well kept insecurities. “This... this thing we have going on- it’s a toxic, endless cycle. There’s no us- it’s just Hajime and Toru plus Y/n.”

Toru’s expression morphs from empathetic to down right murderous. He’s offended that you would dare imply something like that. Deep down, you’re sure he knows you’re actually right, and he’s just acting like that to save his pride. A pang of shame hits you- when had you begun thinking mean thoughts like that?

“How could you say that?” He spits, tone devoid of sweetness, now replaced with lethal venom. “Everything we do is for you. We give you money, this nice home, space, time- our love. And you have the fucking gall to say we’re ostracizing you from our relationship? What the hell are you thinking Y/n?” 

You’ve never seen him this angry- not in all the years you’ve known the setter. It sorta terrifies you. Hajime doesn’t bother to reprimand Toru for his tone like usual, instead he looks like he agrees with him. 

“He’s right Y/n, everything we do is for you. Are you mad because we didn’t take you to a wedding? Guess what- that’s just business. Stop being so damn jealous for no reason. You can’t be selfish in our sort of relationship. Didn’t you know that in the first place?” 

They don’t- won’t see things from your point of view. Honestly, what were you even expecting.

“When have I EVER been selfish? I cook, clean, and practically orbit around the two of you. I’m not mad just because of a FUCKING WEDDING! I’m upset- and hurt because you can’t ever see from my eyes. Don’t think I haven’t seen the differences between the looks you give me verses each other. The date nights you forget to include me in- the stolen kisses in the morning you give each other without even thinking about me. Even when I try to initiate something I’m ‘too clingy’ or you’re ‘too busy.’ FUCK THAT. I deserve better. So I think I deserve to be selfish just this once- because this is something I need to do for me. Not for you.” 

They’re stunned, unable to speak. So they say nothing at all, watching you zip up your duffel bag and single handedly take all your baggage out into the living room by yourself. Neither of them say anything when there’s a knock on the door and they can hear your best friend enter their home and help you take your stuff down to their car. 

There’s nothing they can do. So they go to bed without showering, thinking about the things you said and reflecting. You made it quite clear to them. It’s over- the three of you.

#iwaizumi x y/n #iwaoi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi hajime x you #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa x y/n #oikawa x reader #oikawa x reader x iwaizumi #oikawa angst #answered.requests

[gffa]

I know I've brought this up before, but how much of the fandom reception of the prequels do you think stemmed from the genre dissonance? That the prequels, genre-wise, are closer to high fantasy, while the OT is more an adventure/space western/underdog triumph story.

The prequels also have elements more reminiscent of a romantic period/court drama/Shakespearean tragedy, while if you consider the underdog angle of the OT, the OT also seems kinda similar to some of those inspirational movies about sports teams or something, or a shonen anime with the "Power of Friendship".

I'm just saying, these are rather disparate genres that tend to attract different demographics of people.

And not many people tend to be... great about understanding why they don't like something, much less putting it into words, or understanding that they can dislike something without that something being actually bad. (For example, instead of "I just don't really like [thing]," the usual statement is something along the lines of "[thing] absolutely sucks.")

So the usual response is trying to find (and gather) solidarity while putting down or being condescending towards any dissent, and trying to justify their own dislike. (*gestures vaguely towards pineapple on pizza*)

And historically, it's not uncommon for people to... react strongly towards things they find... different or abnormal, which they judge based on themselves, their emotional response to something, and what they're used to.

Looking at kids, this behavior is... fairly normal. "You're weird," "ew, why do you like that, that's gross," "that's stupid," and so on. A lot of kids/teens/young adults also get defensive really easily. And let's face it--adults are basically just older, taller kids who've had to deal with more of life.

(To be honest, I also get defensive really easily. A lot of people do, and it's... it's normal. The defensive reaction can be lashing out, denial, or just being passive-aggressive or staying silent and tuning it out or mentally rolling your eyes at it. But I'm trying to work on it, because just because it's normal doesn't mean it's a good reaction.)

So, what I'm wondering is whether some fans dislike the prequels simply because it's a different genre...

...but instead of realizing that, they try to defend and justify their dislike by pointing fingers and criticizing whatever stood out or looked different from the OT or cherry-picking details/taking things out of context or making negative conflations (that can be refuted).

Because it's not about logic, it's about how they feel. And people want to feel justified and validated, and we want to feel like we're right and we enjoy staying in our comfort zones. So... yeah. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

LOL, okay, this response is going to be really disjointed because I went off in like a dozen different tangents and even then it's not enough to cover everything, so just kind of read this in a Scattered Thoughts Nerd kind of tone, where I'm staring off into the distance because Navel Gazing Gets Me Going Sometimes. 😂 In my experience, it's sort of a mix. I don't hang around a lot of people who dislike the prequels (in the sense of dismissing them/not being fannish about them) because, well, that's the heart of my interest in Star Wars, so our areas of interest basically don't really overlap that much, so I don't have a chance to talk to a lot of people and find out their reasons or even how they dislike the prequels, in the bigger trends of fandom. I do think there's an element of what you're talking about, that sometimes people can't just dislike things because it's not their genre of choice, that's absolutely a part of it. Mostly because that's how a lot of people react to anything they don't like (and it's something I and literally everyone else has to work on), there has to be a reason for it that it's objectively bad and, like, I have experienced a lot of people getting mad because I like something in a different way than they do. And I don't mean just in Star Wars fandom, but in almost any given fandom--if someone likes something in a way someone else doesn't, if they talk loudly about it (even within their own space), then there's always a contingent of people who have to find a reason why that person is objectively wrong (or even try to make them morally wrong), rather than just shrugging and going, "We see things differently, my view on things doesn't overwrite theirs and their view on things doesn't overwrite mine." It gets more complicated in instances where fandom attitudes genuinely can be hurtful, especially when they're overlapping into the way real people are treated, likes/dislikes don't 100% exist in a bubble, especially when it comes to queer fans, fans of color, disabled fans, mentally ill fans, etc. But that there are a lot of instances where fandom culture has always been--and is increasingly so--contentious and it's hard to chill out when someone is always screaming at you, when the atmosphere of the fandom is always so intense. Further, there's also an element of how fandom has always been--and also is increasingly so--about personal resonance, personal emotional investment, interpretation, and meaning. That sometimes we identify with something so deeply that we feel attacked when someone else likes or dislikes something we feel so strongly about, something that we feel is a reflection of ourselves, and I see a lot of that as well. And this, too, often crosses over into lines of how the context of how we treat characters can be reflections of how we treat real world people, but that there's no monolith here as well. For example: I make fun of Anakin, this angers some people, because how dare I not take this fictional victim 100% seriously, despite that I have repeatedly said that Anakin is the character I most identify with, that things I make fun of him for are ones that I resonate with personally. I'm not disrespecting mentally ill people, especially considering that Anakin is not bound to a single interpretation on this front--he is not canonically mentally ill, no matter how easy it is for us in fandom to map much of that onto his character or, in my case, feel that so much of what I see in him are things I struggle with myself. By and large, the majority of the people I see (at least on tumblr) who make fun of Anakin are doing so within the same vein, that they're being silly about him on things that they personally relate to. (My experiences on this are not universal, I cannot speak for the whole of even any one part of fandom, only my own sphere of experience, but this is what I've seen.) As always, it's fine if someone doesn't vibe with my style or they find that it's not their thing because they do take him more seriously, but that preference does not make my jokes

suddenly not have the context that I relate a lot to what I see in Anakin. In contrast, the way some of the fandom treats Mace or Finn isn't just personal all the time. Not liking their characters isn't inherently racist, but the way they're consistently, consistently treated sure as hell speaks to a larger pattern of racism in fandom and doesn't come without that context. It's the same with Rey--is there a huge vein of misogyny when it comes to her character? Abso-fucking-lutely there is. Things Luke and Anakin get a pass on, Rey is raked over the coals for. Is everyone who dislikes Rey a misogynist? Not even close. Some don't like her because Finn was used as a prop for her story. Some people don't like her because she got sucked into Kylo Ren's story too much. Some just don't care for the way she was written for other reasons. Some just don't vibe with her. It's fine. Nothing is a monolith. And to circle this back around to what you're talking about--it's hard to judge, both because no part of fandom is a monolith in their reactions, but also because we're only hearing from a selection of the fans. How do you know how many people who aren't fans of the prequels, who just don't care for them because it's not their genre, but just go about their day? You don't hear from a lot of them because they moved on to things they do like, so it seems like they must not exist--except, they do, and they're just out there doing things they like more. We only hear from the people who feel the need to tell others they dislike the prequels for this reason or that reason, some valid, some less valid, etc. Ultimately, I do think there's probably a fair amount of genre dissonance for why people dislike the prequels and channel that into "they're objectively bad" and get defensive when people like them and say they were great, but only because that's true of anything anywhere. But that it's only one small slice of the bigger picture (and there's a lot of stuff that I had to eschew in the writing of this response as well because it can be a pretty sprawling topic), where there are tons of reasons and reactions that people have, as well as they're perfectly free to dislike the prequels for whatever reason they do or don't have, it doesn't really affect my opinions, unless they're trying to shove it in my face or are being a dick to those who disagree with them.

#lumi.txt #idk how to tag this

[mooshys]

zara employee!AU futakuchi

content: me trying to be funny, retail headcanons

word count: 2.0k

a/n: ah yes, so winter (@/wackatoshi) and I planned out this entire mall universe for the hq boys and it’s the funniest thing to think about. y’all know those rude zara employees at the mall who judge you as soon as you walk in and tell you that “everything’s out on the floor already” when you ask for a size up? and all the racks on the floor are in shambles? that’s what inspired this. not sure if another installment will be added to this, but whatever! for reference, the other employees: oikawa, ennoshita, kuroo, hanamaki.

the worst person to work with... ever

he completely fits the stereotype of zara employee

will go on his lunch break, but “accidentally” forget to clock out, so he’s still earning cash for eating his sandwich in the back. also prolongs his breaks by at least 5 minutes

can never be found when there’s a rush. and by the time they DO find him, the store is completely empty

comes in late, but leaves as soon as his shift ends

never comes to the store on his days off and whenever the managers text him asking if he can pick up a shift he says he’s “busy”

everyone knows it’s a lie. one time ennoshita, the manager, went on his break and saw futakuchi buying a pretzel at the auntie anne's from the mall food court even though he texted ennoshita like thirty minutes ago that he already had important plans for the day. futakuchi made direct eye contact with him as he took a bite into his pretzel, not the least bit apologetic about lying

all his coworkers wonder how he still has this job

spends most of his shift complaining about working than actually working

when people ask if there are any other sizes in the back, he’ll go to the storage room, play on his phone for 5 minutes, and then walk out to the customer and tell them that they're out of stock

will say he’s doing go-backs, but in reality he’s just walking around the store in circles to avoid work

when he’s REALLY annoyed he sometimes won’t even wear his name tag on the floor so the customers don’t know if he works there and will leave him alone

doesn’t even try to hide how disgruntled he is with work, will literally say “I hate this job” loud enough for customers to hear when he’s shit talking with oikawa behind the register. does loud audible sighs when a customer comes up to check out if he’s in the middle of telling a story

awful at folding the clothes. he might as well just compress all the shirts into a ball and toss them into the bag instead

DESPISES CLOSING WITH A PASSION. he hates staying back even five minutes to pick clothes off from the ground. will literally curse that the company is so inconsiderate of his time even though he clocked in late to his shift...

if you’re on shift with him be prepared to do all the work... go see a chiropractor cuz you’ll basically be carrying him on your back the whole time!

he also finds the most creative ways to get others to do his work for him. his usual victim is hanamaki. he’ll go up to him and say “hey, do you mind folding up all the shirts in zone B for me? ennoshita asked me to organize the back since we’re doing new promos tomorrow” and hanamaki’s so clueless and goes “yeah! sure dude, I got it!”

futakuchi doesn’t organize in the back, he hides behind all the boxes while crouched down on his phone for about twenty minutes before going out on the floor again

someone save hanamaki he’s literally doing futakuchi’s work for him... poor boy needs a RAISE

you actually don’t work at the store futakuchi works at, you’re a part timer at another nearby store

during the holiday season the zara futakuchi works at gets super busy and you take a few extra shifts there to help out

you and futakuchi have an... interesting relationship

first thing you say when you see him during the holiday season: “you haven’t been fired yet?”

he’s rolling his eyes going “oh haha. very funny. saw you were at the bottom of sales last week. that’s probably why you’re always getting transferred here, huh.”

you two are constantly snapping back at each other, even when you’re ringing other people up at the registers. the customers are standing there awkwardly as you two scan and passive aggressively insult each other

it’s so weird, like you two are so mean to each other, but at the same time you’re both practically attached to the hip during your shifts together

futakuchi is more... punctual during the holiday season and even takes a COUPLE EXTRA SHIFTS which floors ennoshita (he’s so moved, he thinks futakuchi has had a change of heart and is trying to improve his work ethic... buddy that’s not it, I’m so sorry)

every time you clock in, futakuchi is there too and you’re going. oh great. not this guy again. it’s like clockwork, as soon as your shift starts, you’re at each others’ neck

when you diss the way he folds clothes, he’s scrutinizing your high pitched customer service voice

at first the other guys are laughing at what’s going on between you two and they’re thinking you two are Mortal Enemies For Life

but then they start noticing little by little that your relationship with futakuchi isn’t like that at all

when you’re scolding futakuchi with his awful folding, you take the time to show him all the steps to make a clean display free of wrinkles. he’s standing next to you trying to imitate the way your hands work on the fabric. he adds in a few snarky comments here and there, but you hush him as you’re giving instructions

and when you’ve got a huge rack of clothes from the dressing room that need to go back on the floor, futakuchi offers to help you put them away. he’ll say “ennoshita told me to help out” and you brush it off, but he’s actually lying. he’s helping you on his own accord

he has his asshole persona to keep up with, so he’s still sliding in snide remarks, but you’re so used to it and can keep up with him that he’s always on his toes. he likes this back and forth with you

one day, kuroo starts talking about you with futakuchi to get the 411 on what’s going on between you two. futakuchi denies it all until kuroo starts teasing him by saying he’ll ask you on a date. that’s when futakuchi’s going. wait what

“yeah, there’s a nice restaurant about ten minutes from here and I think going there on a date would really—”

futakuchi starts internally freaking out. he’s going “oh. a date. at a nice italian restaurant near here. wow.”

and kuroo’s got a nice lopsided grin because HE KNOWS and he’s still egging him on

that’s when it finally hits futakuchi. he... he likes you. He Likes You A Lot

the tips of his ears start turning red at this sudden revelation

and upon seeing this kuroo’s like "Alright bud, I was just messing with you. But if you don’t ask her out on a date then I sure as hell will!"

futakuchi’s going alright man give me like a week

Bro futakuchi is even MEANER to you than he was before because he Likes you and Doesn’t Know How To Deal With His Feelings since he’s got the emotional capacity of a grade schooler

futakuchi: wow. that blouse you’re wearing. it suits you.

you: really? thank you I think the color—

futakuchi: yeah. it’s ugly. like you.

you: ...

kuroo’s watching the exchange from the register completely horrified. he’s like. what have I done. futakuchi whips his head over with pleading eyes when you tell him to shove it and kuroo’s shaking his head thinking “I never should have gotten involved”

he’s in too deep already and when you leave the floor to help ennoshita with the stockroom, kuroo has another one-on-one with futakuchi. he tells him the basics like “Don’t call the person you like Ugly”

“well what else am I supposed to say”

truly a lost cause...

it’s like talking to a wall with futakuchi. kuroo’s telling him to be polite and sweet to you and futakuchi’s nodding his head in understanding, but as soon as he’s within a 3ft radius near you his brain is thinking “insult them for attention” kuroo’s like DUDE. WHAT DID I SAY.

this sad exchange goes on for a week and by then kuroo’s like. I give up on you. I can’t deal with this and the holiday rush. he’s waving up the white flag

futakuchi’s been kinda meaner to you than before, so you start ignoring him a bit and he’s getting so frustrated with himself that he doesn’t even know what to do and kuroo notices you two not talking AT ALL during a shift and he’s like. Futakuchi. Just Confess Already. Jesus.

futakuchi wishes he never realized he likes you because he wants to go back to those work days when you two would be Kinda Cheeky towards each other and everything was lax

the confession happens when ennoshita assigns you and futakuchi to work on orders in the back room. at first, futakuchi was trying to find hanamaki to do the work for him, but was promptly dragged by ennoshita to the back. there was no getting out of this

when he saunters on in, he sees you’re already printing out the shipping labels and folding up boxes and it’s silent, your back is facing him and he can definitely feel something is wrong

you saw him searching for hanamaki on the floor and it hurt your feelings because were you that insufferable to work with?

there’s silence between you two and then you break it and tell him that he can go back on the floor if he doesn’t want to work with you

and he can sense the hurt in your voice and he’s like... no, no, no that isn’t it

you’re shaking your head and saying “look, I get it. I get on your nerves. I could tell from this past week and you avoiding me. sorry if I did anything wrong... you can grab hanamaki and we’ll finish these orders while you work in the front”

now futakuchi is internally screaming NONONONONO in his mind because YOU’RE not annoying him at all he’s just a complete dummy who doesn’t know how to deal with his own emotions and now you’re on the verge of crying as you fold some shirts with tissue paper

it’s now or never

futakuchi blurts out that he Really Likes You

at first you think he’s joking and you’re going “Are you serious right now? I’m literally crying and you think NOW is the time to do some fake middle school confession? you’re sick”

POOR GUY HE’S LIKE “NO I REALLY MEAN THAT I LIKE YOU... A LOT...”

he’s right next to you now and grabs onto your shoulders so you can get a good look at his face. his eyes are all business as he confesses again

you’ve got your hand over your mouth and it hits you

futakuchi being Extra Mean to you is his way of showing affection...

now you’re throwing your head back in laughter because he’s so dumb. he’s tall and handsome and too cheeky for his own good, but he’s also like an elementary school kid realizing he’s got his first ever crush and he has absolutely No Idea how to Deal With It

after you’re done laughing, you lightly hit him on the chest and throw in a few lighthearted insults before you hug him as tight as you can. he returns the favor by wrapping his arms around you, practically engulfing you

he’s thinking wow. this is nice. he’s keeping his mouth clamped shut to avoid ruining the moment, but he’s totally digging the way you fit perfectly in his arms

when you pull away you notice his face is red all over and now you’re cracking up and calling him tomato head

and at this, he’s pointing at your running mascara and is like “sure I look like a tomato, but you’re looking like a reject Joker with all that smudged makeup”

now you two are fighting in the back, but in a more loving manner

as soon as you both clock out for the night, futakuchi takes you to the nice italian restaurant nearby. the one kuroo mentioned about a week beforehand

it’s the perfect place for a first date

(he’s too prideful to thank kuroo, but what he instead does is send a selfie with you in the picture + the food during the first date. kuroo’s slow clapping it out. he knew the little asshole could do it.)

#futakuchi #futakuchi keiji #futakuchi headcanons #futakuchi x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu hcs #haikyuu ff #futakuchi hcs #hq headcanons #hq hcs #moosh hcs #futakuchi x you #I HATE TAGGIGNAISGNISGNSJG #I haven't been in a zara for over a year and I'm proud of that

[ruzek-halstead]

meet me in the afterglow: first date

request from @felicitysmoaksx: i would like to see a continuation of the “i’m so stressed out during finals that i show up to the exam in my onesie and you tell me i look cute” university au. maybe like their first date?

read the original fic here

-

Luke and Julie ended up at a 24-hour diner a few minutes off campus. There was a light wind blowing through Julie's curls, and she was glad her onesie was so warm and fuzzy. Luke seemed perfectly at ease in his sleeve tank, but then again, she could feel his warm skin every time her wrist knocked against his arm. Her hand was still loosely clasped in his. She expected it to be slightly awkward; she had just met Luke and this was unlike anything she had ever done before. In her past four years of studies, she didn't have much time for a social life, much less a boyfriend. But there was no way she could've turned down his invite after the entirety of the situation.

When they reached the exterior of the diner, Julie spotted various empty booths. There were a few students who were quite obviously studying, what with their textbooks and highlighters strewn around the table, but it was generally quite empty. Even though it was relatively empty, Julie was still hit with a wave of anxiety with being seen in this onesie by everyone in the diner. It was dumb, she knew that; she had completed her exam in front of people with this onesie and even walked across campus with it. But for some reason, she couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling. When Luke moved forward to open the door, he stumbled back and realized Julie had stopped walking. Their intertwined hands pulled him to a stop. He noticed Julie's worried eyes and moved closer, ducking his own head to catch her gaze. "Hey, what's wrong? Are you okay?" God, Julie wanted to scream. This is not how their first date was supposed to be going. "This is going to sound weird," Julie laughed nervously. "But I'm feeling super self-conscious about this onesie right about now." Luke's facial features softened, and he stepped even closer. He let go of her hand to bring it up close to her face; Julie's breath hitched and he stopped his movements. "Julie, believe me when I say this, you look stunning in that onesie. Honestly, I’m too distracted with your beauty to even notice anymore.” Her brain was short-circuiting and no words were coming to mind. His green gaze was so captivating, she couldn't look away. But they were standing outside the diner and she had to do something. His hand that stopped mid-air dropped back down, outlining her arm through the onesie to intertwine their pinkies. Julie felt her knees begin to shake. She swallowed hard. “Well, I am pretty hungry.” That was the most her incapacitated brain could come up with currently, but the comment sent a brightening smile to Luke’s lips. “Great,” he added, once again pulling open the front door. Julie took a deep breath to regain her confidence. It didn’t matter what anyone else thought; it only mattered how she felt. And if she was being honest, she felt pretty damn good after hearing what Luke had to say. There was a sign at the front saying ‘seat yourself’ so Julie slid into a widow booth. Luke slid in across from her, his vibrant smile still on full display. It had been quite some time since Julie went on a first date. It was also pretty obvious that she was out of her element, but Luke seemed perfectly okay with taking the lead. “So, what’s your major, Julie?” He waited until their waitress came over to hand them menus and bring two glasses of water to ask his question. He was casually perusing the menu, but inside, he was dying to know more about this mysterious girl. “You mentioned something about an Evidence course?” Julie glanced up from her menu with a soft smile. She hadn't really gotten a chance to celebrate the fact that she was officially finished her major, (however, she couldn't think of a better way to celebrate than a date with an incredibly cute and caring guy). "I was in Criminology. That was my last exam ever, actually." Luke's eyes widened comically, a large grin spreading over his face. "Congratulations, that's amazing!" He cheered, reaching over to softly squeeze her wrist. "Wow, I should be taking you out to a five course meal — not this." Julie's eyes snapped up to meet his. He was grinning and he looked confident, but Julie could see the underlying insecurity beneath. It was intriguing to see, given how comfortable he had been since they'd met. "This is perfect," she replied evenly, meeting his eye with assurance. Luke matched her smile. The waitress came back to take their order, smiling knowingly at the adorable couple. Luke ordered a chocolate milkshake with a cheeseburger and fries, while Julie also ordered a chocolate milkshake and a chicken caesar wrap with sweet potato fries. “Perfect. I’ll put that order in right away and it’ll be out soon,” their waitress assured them with a bright smile. “What about you?” Julie asked, straw between her lips. She didn’t miss the way Luke’s eyes flickered down for a nanosecond; it gave her all the confidence in the world. “Your major?” Luke took a moment longer to reply (yes, he was composing himself, what about it?). “I’m actually a music major.” Julie’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Oh, really?” “Yeah. I was just taking that course as a filler,” he explained. “That was my final exam too.” Julie’s face lit up in excitement. “Doesn’t it feel great?” “Unbelievable,” he chuckled. “A little scary because what the hell am I supposed to do now?” Julie’s smile dimmed a bit. She was in the same boat and she had been avoiding thinking about it for as long as possible. However, she was still young and there was always the possibility of going back to school (although, her current outfit and mental stability would argue against that). “But we’re not going to think about that right now,” she replied with a coy smile. Luke opened his mouth to rebut, but he was instead distracted by the mouthwatering scent of their food arriving. He was mesmerized, but Julie was straight up emotional about it; she truly thought she might cry. “Oh God,” she mumbled, her senses completely overloaded. “It’s been so long since I’ve had proper food. Does coffee count as a food?” Luke was already shoving fries into his mouth. “Definitely not,” he replied through a full mouth. It definitely wasn’t first date etiquette but Julie was so hungry, she couldn’t be bothered to notice. Not that she cared anyway, she was quickly gnawing down her wrap, nearly forgetting to breathe. Once Julie was satisfied that her hunger was appropriately satiated and she could finally multi-task again, she took a sip of her milkshake and turned her attention to Luke once again. “So, music. How’d you get into it?” Luke was momentarily surprised at the question, but he was more than happy to speak about it. Music was everything to him; he could talk about it all day. “Honestly, it kind of just happened. A cousin of mine used to have a guitar and we taught ourselves to play.” “Are you any good?” Julie meant it to come out teasingly, but it really ended up sounding more flirty than anything. “Maybe you should find out.” Luke very easily matched her tone and Julie found herself sweating before him. “How do you propose I do that?” Well, she may as well continue with the ruse. She had leaned forward in the booth, resting her chin in her hand. “Lucky for you, I have a band.” Julie’s brain immediately stopped all function. He was attractive, he had amazing biceps, he was sweet and respectable and he was in a band? “You — you’re in a band?” Julie cringed at the obvious fumble in her words. He can’t just drop that on her and expect her to be okay though. An unconscious smile spread across his features. “My best friends and I are in a band. We try to play gigs whenever we can; you know, exposure.” “Oh — you play gigs,” Julie swallowed. God, her throat was dry. “Does that mean you have original songs?” Luke nodded again; he looked so excited. “My band calls me the Shakespeare of songwriting. Can’t help myself.” Julie’s brain started screaming at her again: HE WRITES SONGS. Julie grabbed her glass of water and drained it halfway. “That’s awesome. Uh — so, are you the guitarist?” “Lead guitarist,” he smirked with pride. “I’m also the lead singer.” Julie squeezed her water glass so tight, her knuckles turned white. Luke’s eyes dropped to her hand and his smirk only widened. He was full-on torturing her now and he knew it. “How the hell are you even real?” Julie was never known for her subtlety. Luke should know that by now since she basically went off on him in the exam room already anyway. He wasn’t, however, expecting that random question. His eyebrows rose in surprise, but Julie didn’t elaborate. Instead, she seemed to be almost glaring at him. He laughed, a hint of nervousness in his tone. “Excuse me?” “You’re a guitar player in a band, you write songs and you sing them. You’re ridiculously sweet and kind and I haven’t seen any red flags yet, which is literally unbelievable nowadays. You’re somehow interested in me and you’re ridiculously hot. There must be something else going on here because there is no way in hell that this is real.” Luke could only blink at her. He took a moment to mull over his next words before he relayed them with a frown. “If you’re impressed by my kindness, which should just be basic human behaviour, then men clearly need to do better.” Julie bit her lip as she sighed. “Sorry. That was a lot. I just mean—” Luke interrupted. “You seem to be really surprised that someone like me could be interested in you and I just don’t understand,” he explained, brows furrowed together. “What you and I see is clearly different. I see someone intelligent and dedicated enough to her studies to block out everything else and get it done. I see someone beautiful, no matter what they're wearing. I see someone who doesn't think as highly of themselves as they should because I've only known you a few hours and that's enough for me to know that I want you in my life." Now it was Julie's turn to blink. "Sorry," Luke popped out a smirk, "That was a lot." "Listen," Julie breathed, openly avoiding eye contact as she started her explanation. "I'm not, nor have I ever been, that successful in the dating department. This," she motioned between her and Luke, "Has never happened to me before and I'm not entirely sure how to handle it. So, I'm sorry if I'm butchering this." Luke instantly reached forward to grab her hand. "You're not." "Are you sure?" She laughed nervously. "I've given you more than one reason tonight to think I'm certifiably insane." Luke looked up from their conjoined hands with an earnest smile. "I hate to break it to you, but it's going to take a lot more than that to drive me away." Julie considered it for a moment. "You know what, I'm okay with that." "Good," he laughed. He stood up from the booth. "I'll be right back." Julie took this opportunity to momentarily reflect. In the span of twenty-four hours, she had gone through a range of emotions like something she'd never experienced before. But she had successfully completed her exams, and thus, completed her major. She could now take a break from school and decide how she wanted to proceed. Somehow the worst week of her life ended up as one of the best. Luke returned a few moments lately, shoving his wallet back into his back pocket. "Alright, we're all squared away. You ready to go?" Julie nodded with a smile, easily following him outside. "Thanks for the meal, Luke. I needed it." "Of course." He was unable to lose the grin from his face. "Hey, is it alright if I get your number?" Julie almost tripped over herself in taking out her cellphone from the pocket of her onesie. They exchanged phone numbers with a smile. "I live just around the corner over there," Julie motioned with her index finger. "But tonight was great, and I had a lot of fun." Luke's eyebrows furrowed together. "Oh, that's great. But I'm walking you home." "You don't need to do that," she replied automatically. "I want to." Well, Julie couldn't dispute that. Luke once again reached for her hand and Julie led the way. She knew it would be an exceptionally short walk, but he kept the conversation going for all of it. It felt like he couldn't get enough of talking to her and it seriously made Julie's heart squeeze with affection. When they reached the doorstep of Julie's building, she turned to him with nervous eyes. "I would love to take you out again," Luke murmured quietly. The energy around them had suddenly changed and Julie was hyper aware of his thumb stroking her palm. "I would love to see your band," she replied, because honestly, she still hadn't gotten that image out of her head. An immediate grin broke out on Luke's face. "Then it's decided," his eyes softened once again as he took a step down. "Get some sleep, Julie. Celebrate your achievements by forty-seven hours of sleep." "You know what?" Julie threw her head back in a laugh. "I think I just might." His eyes were sparkling as he observed her laughing. It was the best sight he'd seen in ages. Julie could see his hesitation and decided he'd done enough already (especially through her multiple freak-outs over the course of the day). With his small step down, he was finally at her height. She took a small step forward and pulled him closer with a soft hand of the back of his neck. She met his wide eyes as she moved closer and pulled a smile as she pressed her lips dangerously close to his lips. She kept her hand where it was and only moved back to glance in his eyes. His own hand slid behind her back and she savoured every moment of his touch. No words were needed. All they needed was the mere presence of each other. Julie finally pulled away, throwing a shy smile in his direction. "Goodnight, Luke." He was grinning the widest she'd seen since they met. "Goodnight, Julie."

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #juke #juke fics #jatp fics #juke au #jatp au #luke patterson #julie molina #julie x luke #luke x julie

[jadelotusflower]

It’s Cold in that Fridge: The Case of Nakari Kelen

Since The Case of Mara Jade has been doing the rounds again, I’ve finally gone back to this post that has been sitting in my drafts for literally years. So let’s honour this absolute badass who deserved better:

Once upon a time, the Star Wars universe was but six films (and a tv series) in the story of the Skywalker family. But beyond George Lucas’ story was an absolute boatload of books, comics, games, and other materials that made up the Expanded Universe. When Disney purchased Lucasfilm and the rights to the Star Wars saga, everything in this universe was decanonised and deemed “Legends” - some aspects of this universe were retained or re-purposed, others sit in Disney’s figurative vault and will likely never see the light of day (and seeing how the ST turned out, maybe that’s for the best).

But this transition between Legends canon and Disney canon was not so simple, because the nature of publishing meant that there were novels approved during the time of Legends canon that would be released in the time of Disney canon. In particular, there had been the planned trilogy “Empire and Rebellion”, set between A New Hope and The Empire Strikes Back, with each novel from the perspective of one of The Big Three.  

Razor’s Edge (Leia) and Honor Among Thieves (Han) were released prior to the Great Canon Split of 2014.  But while the Luke-centric novel had been planned, it was not due to be released until well after the Split. So Heir to the Jedi (so called as an homage to the Legends progenitor Heir to the Empire) became one of the first books of the Disney canon.

What does this background have to do with Nakari Kelen?  Perhaps nothing, but I do wonder how the writing process was affected by the shift from Legends to Disney - was the novel a relic of the old EU with any reference the LFL storygroup didn’t like excised during editing, or was it a trendsetter for the new EU, a Sign of Things to Come?  

The most salient point being, of course, that Nakari Kelen - like so many love interests before her - was not allowed to go along her merry way at the conclusion of the novel, but was shoved into the fridge.

If there was one constant of the Legends EU, it was that Luke Skywalker’s love interests couldn’t catch a break. Mara Jade naturally lasted the longest relationship-wise, with almost twenty years of marriage to Luke before some bright spark decided she had to go (as per the aforementioned case study). But before Mara there was Jem, Shira Brie, and Gaeriel Captison (who came close to escaping the curse), and in the Legacy of the Force series they brought back sole survivors Akanah and Callista, only to kill them off for good too (and rather brutally, if I may add).

So perhaps when Kevin Hearne began writing HttJ within the confines of the Legends continuity, he was merely sticking to the status quo, or perhaps once subsumed by Disney they needed to make sure Luke's slate was clean (so to speak).  And I can’t put all the blame on Hearne since I don’t know whether it was his idea, or LFL mandated - but regardless it was a poor decision.

The root cause of fridging, imo, is limited imagination.  How best to cause your male protagonist pain if not kill off someone they love, or at least have strong feelings for? The answer is of course, easily. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

The Luke Skywalker of HttJ is fresh from his victory in ANH, a lieutenant in the Rebellion: young, not dumb, and full of...

Nakari Kalen is an absolute Queen a civilian volunteer and crack-shot sniper who loans her ship Desert Jewel to the Alliance. Luke is immediately attracted to her, they bond over a mutual love of fast ships and leaving behind desert home planets, and engage in the inexpert flirting of two nineteen year olds while also risking their lives several times over.

I want to make it clear: I actually really like this book. It's a breezy read, almost serialised as The Early Adventures of Luke Skywalker, and is ofttimes genuinely funny. And credit where it’s due to Hearne, many of of the supporting roles in the novel are female. Other than Nakari, there's Soonta, the Rodian who gives Luke her uncle’s lightsaber, Sakhet the Kupohan spy, and the Givin cryptographer/math genius Drusil Bephorin. In a genre where male characters are often the default for these kind of roles, it was nice to see, but makes the regressive fridging of Nakari even more egregious.

Luke and Nakari make a good team fighting brain-sucking monsters and Imperials, but more importantly they have fun together - she encourages him to work on his Force skills, and he successfully moves objects with his mind for the first time (leading to Nakari adorably dub him "a little noddle scooter"). It's a very sweet, if brief, relationship, and a respite from the danger of the mission. They spend the night together (leaving the reader to decide exactly what happened behind closed doors), and share a kiss before splitting up to try and escape bounty hunters. No prizes for guessing what happens to Nakari immediately after she received the Skywalker Kiss of Death.

I assume there were two motivating factors for why Hearne and/or LFL couldn't let Nakari live:

1. If she survived, fans would wonder why she doesn't appear in ESB/subsequent material.

I recall this bandied about on forums back at the time of the book's release, and to that I say - so what? Fans are always going to wonder, and try to paper over the gaps in canon, to make up their own headcanons to explain any any perceived inconsistencies. It's certainly no reason to kill someone off.

It is in fact possible for two young people to have a romance that just fizzles, or doesn’t work out for whatever reason - it should not require great maneuvering or explanation. If Nakari doesn’t show up in the next book in the timeline, what about it? The reader is smart enough to assume she and Luke broke up, decided to just remain friends, whatever. But it seems that the only way for a female character to exit stage left is for her to die, which is bullshit.

And actually, there's no reason why she couldn't have shown up again. ESB and RoTJ cover a month and a few days, respectively, of Luke's life - just because there was no mention of Nakari doesn't mean she didn't exist at that time, whether or not she and Luke were an item. She could have made an appearance in a subsequent novel, or Rebels, or the comics - she could have become a recurring character, showing up when the Rebellion needed her, or - heaven forbid - even have her own comic/book/show! Her existence in Star Wars canon didn't need to begin and end with Luke Skywalker, merely to service his plotline and backstory and abandoning the richness of her own.

No, the only reason Nakari had to die was to facilitate this:

It was a blow to the gut, realizing what that sudden absence meant. I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, but I had felt Nakari's life snuffed out through the Force, and into that void where she had shone anger rushed in - anger, and a cold sense of raw power and invincibility...I took a step to join in the hunt but stopped, breathing heavily, unaccountably sweating even though I felt so cold inside and the power of the Force roiled within me... I shook with emotion and power, and none of it felt the way the Force had before...I saw what kind of space it was , a black hole that would always be hungry no matter how much I fed it. I might never feel warm again if I didn't get myself under control.

Luke feels the dark side and is tempted by the boost of power it offers him, but immediately identifies it as dangerous and unnatural. I can understand why Hearne wanted to include this - it is a book of firsts after all: Luke's first solo mission, his first time using telekenisis, and ending with story with his first experience of the dark side makes sense. But it wasn't necessary, which leads to:

2. How to push Luke to touch the dark side without killing someone he has romantic feelings for?

Also, obviously, shite of the bull (or nerf, if you prefer). Even if this brush with the dark side was absolutely necessary for the novel's climax, there's any number of ways it could be achieved. At this point, Luke is fresh from losing important people in his life - Owen and Beru, Ben, and Biggs - lumping another death on top of that a narrative trick for Luke to react not only to losing Nakari, but the others as well. But it's cheap, the first card in the deck, and why not show a bit of imagination? Luke is young and inexperienced enough at this point that any number of things could be the catalyst - the whole book he's struggling with his growing powers, why not try and reach too far in the firefight with the bounty hunters, his anger and frustration with himself in not doing enough trigger the dark side temptation? It would work thematically and doesn't involve a fridging that ultimately has very little payoff.

Because Nakari is killed less than ten pages from the end of the book - afterwards Luke grieves, but ultimately chooses to honour her memory and be grateful for what he learned with her, recommitting to becoming a Jedi. It's all very surface level, and once again a female character's death facilitates a male character's development. Was it so imperative that Luke lost someone he cared about as part of this story? Sure, this was a time of galactic civil war, and it's far from unrealistic that these stories have a high body count, but who to make collateral damage remains an authorial choice, and in this case Nakari Kelen was (a) a female character of color, (b) a love interest of the protagonist - not just of this book, but the entire Original Trilogy.

I don't know to what extent (if any) race had to play in the decision. I'm sure there was a segment of the fandom absolutely livid that Luke Skywalker kissed (and maybe had sex with) a black woman. Was her death LFL hedging its bets, or demonstrative of the general lack of attention/respect they show their characters of colour?

In any case this was a chance to stand out from the old EU and it's fridge full of Luke's dead girlfriends, but instead they chose to introduce and kill off Nakari for the sole purpose of Luke's manpain and character development, and that's gross.

And then there's this:

A grisly yet reliable fact about custom bounty hunter ships is that you can always count on them to have body bags stashed somewhere for the easy transport of their kills. They often have built-in refrigerated storage, too.

NAKARI IS KILLED AND LITERALLY STORED IN THE FUCKING FRIDGE I COULDN'T BELIEVE WHAT I WAS READING.

I really hope this was unintentional on Hearne's part, because yikes. He was halfway there, this book was full of interesting female characters who had agency - Drusil in particular was a delight with her super math and inability to understand human interaction. Nakari was full of life and fun - capable but relatable, showing a different side of the Rebellion and those that suffered under the Empire's rule. Fridging her in her first appearance is considerably more vile, because it reduces her to a footnote of Luke's story, a plot device to Help Him Grow, rather than a springboard to tell more of her own story.

Because Nakari was a compelling character ripe for spinoff potential. I would absolutely have read or watched her continued adventures, juggling missions for her father's Biolabs company and trying to aid the Rebellion, shooting her slug rifle and cracking wise, maybe even finding a way to amplify her mother's song Vader's Many Prosthetic Parts to really stick it to the Empire, or try and free the political prisoners on Kessel.

The old EU was made great by allies and enemies of Our Heroes showing up again to help or hinder them, and/or branching out into their own material. We fell in love with them, and followed their stories even as they diverged from the main saga, eager to read more about their lives.

Nakari Kelen never got that chance. In many ways, she exemplified what Disney Star Wars was to become: an exercise in wasted potential.

#star wars #star wars meta #heir to the jedi #nakari kelen #luke skywalker #fridging #it's cold in that fridge #star wars expanded universe #nucanon

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Under A Storm - Bucky Barnes x mystery (f)reader Avenger

Summary: You’ve been in love with Bucky for awhile now, and so has he, what will happen when you reveal your true origins? Will he still love you?

Warning: got some good’ol angst, fluffy times with Bucky I don’t hate you I promise

Masterlist

“I think I’m winning. Just putting that out there.” You quip, not even breaking a sweat as Bucky uses everything in his power to get your arm to budge, even just a little.

“I’m trying...just give me a moment..” Grumbles Bucky as he strains to keep his metal arm from reaching defeat at the end of the table.

For the entirety of the day the two of you have been wandering around the Avengers base with nothing better to do then annoy Tony in his lab, and harass Clint who’s recovering from a broken arm while everyone else is off somewhere in the Netherlands, probably freezing their asses off.

Luckily for you, Steve said this was your vacation week, while Bucky on the other hand was told to hang back while his abdominal scars heal up nice and pretty. And since you could care less about heading down south to some fancy and excessively hot beach all on your lonesome, you’ve decided to keep your friends company. Especially Bucky.

But if you’re being honest with yourself here, you mostly just stayed to spend time with Bucky. Ah yes, that beautifully handsome blue eyed bastard with the metal arm and incredibly good looks paired with an equally as stellar personality.

It’s almost like the universe said “I know you’ve had a hard time down there so here’s this literal angel for you, you’re welcome, lots of love now go and do nothing about it sucker.”

It’s not like you didn’t want to make a move, it’s just, you’re origins are so different from his. In fact, your ass isn’t even from earth! You’re not even an actual human being! Granted you look humanly enough, separate from the fact that you’ve got a beautiful pair of darkly colored curled horns, and eyes the color of fire embers that reflects light due to your nocturnal vision.

But other then those little oddities about yourself, you look pretty normal, even more so when wearing a hoodie and sunglasses. Which has become a staple of your usual street attire in general and even when on missions.

Even with all the mystery that still surrounds you and that you’ve kept hidden within yourself since you’ve met him, Bucky likes having you around anyway, and without a doubt you are his favorite person on the team.

Smiling adoringly, you chuckle while Bucky struggles to pin your arm to the table, while your arm holds his up with little effort due to your inhuman strength.

He’s trying really hard, putting all of his effort and sweat into winning this round, which would be the first if he does happen to win, which you already know won’t be happening today, nor the next week.

“Just give me a moment.” Mutters Bucky through clenched teeth as his metal arm adjusts and readjusts to use as much strength as physically possible by this special Wakandian tech.

Blowing air out of your lips, you casually rest your head against your knuckles on your free hand as you wait for him to finally crack, “Just tap out or I’ll pin you again. And I know how much you hate losing.”

“I’m not tapping out Y/N.” Says Bucky defensively as he focuses all his energy into moving your arm even just an itty bitty inch, something, anything.

“Fine then.” You reply before slamming his metal arm against the table with a loud clang that rings throughout the entire lounging area. He quickly gives you an annoyed look as your face turns into a bright grin.

“I hate you.” Grumbles Bucky as he leans back into the couch.

Snatching your water bottle from the side table, you take a swig before shrugging, “We don’t have room in this house for weak bitches. Barnes I’m sorry to say this but....you’ve gotta go.”

Bucky shakes his head in annoyance before the corners of his eyes begin to crinkle, followed by his beautiful smile and then that contagious laugh. “Y/N I couldn’t make it without you, please be kind.” He pleads jokingly as you set the bottle down.

“I’ll consider your words.” You muse with a dramatic hair flip as he reaches over to take the half empty bottle of water, drinking it all in one long chug that has you memorized for a good ten seconds.

Snapping out of your Bucky-being-unknowingly-hot-without-realizing-it trance, you quickly fake pout, “My water you ass!”

“I’m from Russia so it’s our water.”

“Shut up you just lived there.” You retort before giving him a double take, “And hey.”

“Ah, come on doll let’s go bother Clint again.” Suggests Bucky as he rises to his feet and walks around the table to pull you to yours as well. God all you wanna do is kiss that stupid face of his and shove him back down onto the couch and...

“Hey guys what’s up.” Chirps Clint as Bucky wanders into Tony’s lab, you following right after.

Nodding to him in acknowledgment, you casually shrug while looking around at the various contraptions and work-in-progresses, “Oh you know, the usual.”

“Here to lighten up the place? Things were getting pretty dull.” Confirms Clint just as Tony walks out of the bathroom.

“I heard that. And what? Are we not having fun? Are you not entertained?”

“I’m entertained all right.”

“Exactly.” Points Tony before shifting his attention over to Bucky, “Speaking of entertainment. I need you for a little something out back involving a knife and you throwing it at a couple things I’ve been testing out.”

“He’d love too.” You add with a beaming grin as Bucky turns to glare at you, noticing his agitation you quickly take a step forward and squeeze his shoulders, “Right?”

Pursing his lips together, Bucky turns his head to face an expectant Tony before glaring back down at you, “Sure.”

“Alright great! Just follow me and let’s blow this popsicle stand.” Claps the genius enthusiastically as he gathers a bag full of various materials, making certain to snatch a camera before making for the door. Oh, you’ve gotta watch that tape later.

Releasing your grip from Bucky’s broad shoulders, you hand him a small smile, “Hehe sorry.”

“You owe me you little asshole.” Jokes Bucky with an apprehensive smirk as he swiftly touches your chin affectionately before turning to jog out the door after Tony.

Smiling like a fool in love, you suppress a childish giggle as Clint loudly slurps down a smoothie, “You got it bad kid, you really do.”

Raising a brow at him, you walk over to the swivel chair he’s seated comfortably on and take the free spot on the table nearby, “I’m almost as old as the dinosaurs so don’t call me kid.” You sass, causing him to chuckle.

“Fair point. But still, you’ve got it bad Y/N.” Rolling your ember irises, you let out a huff of air as he grins knowingly, “Decide on telling him anytime soon or are we waiting for something tragic to happen first?”

“I’ll get around to it.” You mutter unenthusiastically as Clint takes another long pause to awkwardly suck down his weirdly colored smoothie.

“Sure. Okay, and I believe the earth is flat.” Snorts Clint, his words absolutely dripping in sarcasm.

Scoffing you throw a dirty cloth at him before letting your head fall into your hands, “It’s too fucking difficult Clint. I’m too goddamn weird.”

“What?” Laughs Clint in bewilderment, genuinely surprised that you would say such a thing considering he’s know you for years and finds that completely false, “I don’t believe that for a second.”

“No it’s true.” You mumble against your palms, “He doesn’t know about everything about me yet, I don’t wanna freak him out just as he’s starting to like me alright.”

“Ah, so he does like you.” Confirms Clint with a knowing nod, “I knew it.”

“Yeah me too.”

Nodding slowly once again, the archer stands and makes the less then 1 foot distance to reach you. Head still in your hands, he gently knocks a fist against one of your horns as you try your best to ignore his existence.

“Knock. Knock. Anyone home?” Asks your friend as he awaits in hope that he can talk some real sense into you about your strong feelings for Bucky. “Please, I know you’re in there Y/N, time to open up.”

Cracking a smile at his theatrics, you slowly release your head from your palms to greet him with an annoyed half glare, “By the way I am not waiting for something terrible to happen. I have my reasons okay.”

“Your reasons being...”

Biting your lip, you pull your legs up to sit cross legged on the table, “You don’t get it Clint, I’m me alright. I’m not from this planet, I’ve got horns, I can sense peoples emotions, and since my mother is Goddess of the Underworld I’m technically herald of bringing this earth to a bloody and violent end!” You shout as he keeps the most irritating of faces on, making your anger rise by the second.

“Isn’t it nice to talk about our feelings.” Replies Clint in the most soothing voice you’ve ever heard, if you weren’t so flustered right now you could probably have laughed.

“Fuck off Clint I’m in love and he doesn’t know that shit part about me.” You grumble with a frown, “Bucky doesn’t know anything.”

“Well...” Wonders Clint for a brief moment, “Maybe he should. I mean you said it yourself, he does have affections for you.”

“Oh I know he does, every time I’m around him he smells like what happiness and love smells like.”

“Which is?”

“Hard to describe in this world, but it’s the best smell in existence.” You admit with the smallest of smiles as you think about Bucky, “Clint why do I have to feel this way? Why does he have to love me? I’m destined for terrible things....or, well...I was, but still.”

Noticing how your eyes have suddenly glossed over, Clint holds your shoulder while giving you a reassuring smile, “Y/N, listen to me. You will never do anything like that, you’re too morally correct and are almost the embodiment of a kitten for that shit anyways. And I know Bucky will love you either way, because he’s Bucky and that man needs a wild woman like you in his life to keep things interesting. You’ll be fine, believe me.”

Shutting your eyes tight, you reveal the tiniest of smiles before looking at Clint, “Maybe you’re not just a pretty face after all. Thanks Clint I needed that.”

Taking a step back, be claps his hands together happily, “Why thank you. I’ve been watching a lot of Ted talks on our higher purpose and motivation recently and you gave me the perfect opportunity to test my insight.”

“Clint you’re ridiculous.” You laugh, “But still, I think it’s time to tell him. I just hope he’s okay after all is said and done because I don’t know what I’d do with myself if he walks away.” You worry.

“Well if he does I make the best margaritas...”

“Shut up.”

——

For the past half an hour your mind has been swimming with worries and thoughts about how Bucky may react when you tell him the full truth of your origins, and possible future that you’ve fought to keep away since you walked into this world.

He’s only a man, a full mortal, but you have grown to love him so much it hurts sometimes.

Your ember eyes watch as the trees sway back and forth with the moody wind who pushes and pulls them back. A storm is on the rise as giant puffy dark clouds appear in the far distance, causing the once sunny day to darken.

You slouch lazily in your comfy plush lounging chair, one that you easily dragged over to the nearest giant window to watch the clouds race by while you wait for Bucky to return. Getting lost in your drifting thoughts in the process.

“Guess we won’t be going for a walk today after all.” Interrupts Bucky from your jumbled mind, your head immediately turns to watch as he walks from the kitchen to your side by the window.

“Yeah, too bad. I’m not that mad though, I like listening to the thunderstorms.” You confirm with a casual shrug.

Bucky smiles down at you, head turning to watch as the wind rushes against the trees, “I guess there is a beauty in the chaos....but hey Y/N, you know what we could do now?”

Chuckling at his excited expression, you tilt your head up, giving him your full undivided attention, “I’m dying to know Buck.” You muse with a cute little smirk that unknowingly caused his heart to jump with happiness.

Breaking out into a shy smile, Bucky quickly runs his fingers through his less then shoulder length hair, “Uh, what do you say to a movie night? With me?” He asks cautiously, hoping you’ll say yes so he gets even the tiniest opportunity to maybe, possibly, cuddle you.

Your eyes shift back to the growing grey clouds as small water droplets flicker against the window, smiling to yourself, you swiftly stand and turn to face him, “That’s a compelling question...” You muse with a lopsided grin, your hand rising to touch the tip of your chin thoughtfully as he leans against the thick window with a bemused smirk, “And since you asked so nicely and look so very polite too, oh I guess it’d be a tragedy and lonesome night if I declined.” You laugh.

“It would be very lonely for sure.” Agrees Bucky, his face suddenly shifting to slight nervousness, “So uh....you in?”

Breaking out into a beaming grin, you playfully roll your eyes, “No shit I’m in.” You quip before walking past him and into the kitchen for a drink, Bucky following close behind.

He stops to lean his torso against the marble countertop as you fill up a glass of water, “Well I wasn’t completely sure, just checking.” He admits with a nervous chuckle. Bucky you are unbelievably adorable.

Finishing your drink, you roll your eyes as he hangs his head in slight embarrassment, “God Buck, it’s a good thing you’re pretty.” You jest, causing his cheeks to dust pink as he rises his head to meet your shimmering irises. You’re so beautiful, he thinks, incredibly glad that you can’t read minds like Wanda.

Little does he know you can sense emotions, smell them even if they’re strong enough; and if Bucky doesn’t just smell of love and absolute joy right. It’s the most adorable thing in the whole entire world, there’s no fucking way you’ll refrain from admitting your feelings tonight. It just wouldn’t be fair if you didn’t.

“Hey I’m trying here.” He protests half defensively, pushing himself off the counter as you walk around and head for the door. He’s at your side in a second, smile on and eyes trained on nothing but you.

Keeping your eyes forward, you bite your lip as he stares, suddenly his metal arm gives you a slight friendly nudge and now you have no choice but to look at his dumb face, “You think I’m pretty?” He wonders with a mischievous smirk.

“Yeah.” You mutter before pushing him to the side as he’s drifted comfortably close to you, “Pretty annoying.” You retort, doing your best to hold in your laughter as he takes offense and grips his chest dramatically.

“Y/N you monster.” Gasps Bucky, mouth a-gap as he watches you casually shrug.

“I am evil and cold blooded what can I say.” You muse back, a smug grin on your lips that Bucky would like nothing more then to kiss right now. Yet he refrains, not today, he needs to gather his courage first.

Turning the corner to the Avengers sleeping quarters, he quickly stops when he realizes none of you know which room to take, tugging at his sleeve you hand him a calming grin, “We’ll watch in mine. You’re bed is too hard anyways.”

“It is not.” He argues.

“It is too.”

“Not.”

“Well it is so shut up.”

“Not.”

Pushing him into his door, you raise a brow at him, “Just get the movie, I’ll be in my room waiting for your annoying ass.”

Shaking his head at your humorous sass, he quickly salutes you before opening up his door, “What are we thinking? Horror? Comedy? Adventure? All three?”

Taking a step forward, you lean in closer to Bucky; almost testing the waters, before lightly pushing him backwards by his strong chest, “Surprise me.” You quip, wiggling your brow once for emphasis. He breaks out into an adorable crooked grin as he watches you leave and close your own door right across from him.

After making record time changing into your comfortable movie watching sweatpants and some ten year old shirt from Nat that says SHIRT in red letters with the R in a dull grey. Yeah, its one of your favorites; you race to turn the tv on as rain pounds against the glass, one flash of lightening strikes in the distance as a knock sounds at your door. Bucky.

Bolting for the door so fast you almost trip on a stray hoodie, you quickly regain your cool before taking a breath and opening up the metal door. You’re immediately greeted with the smiling face of Bucky as he holds a movie and two beers.

Leaning nonchalantly against the door frame you meet him with the chillest guise you can muster, “So, you come here often?”

Bucky instantly chuckles at your amusing antics as a small blush creeps out over his stubbled cheeks, “Only when I’m invited.” He replies before holding up the movie, “Is this one good?” Hell yes, and you’re now in my room.

Snatching it out of his hand you pull him fully into the room by tugging on his red shirt without much warning, he practically stumbles in, quickly regaining his balance while you shut the door and practically swagger over to the bed. Bucky following close behind.

You gracefully jump onto the comfortable mattress and twist into a seated position before grabbing some kind of hand held scanner, Bucky awkwardly shuffling to the bedside as he then moves to find a spot against the headboard as you fumble around with the movie and whatever device is in your hand.

Raising a brow he watches in curiosity, “Uh, Y/N. What exactly is that?”

“A movie scanner made by Tony. I scan said film and boom it translates to the tv no problem. Technology right.”

He nods in understanding as you press some button and suddenly the movie is on the tv screen, set and ready to play, “Woah.” He mumbles, genuinely in awe of the advanced tech of today. And how fast you were able to do that, god you’re just the best, he thinks.

A second later he flinches back as you throw a pillow at his side, “Shit sorry.” You mutter almost shyly while crawling to his side, “Heads up.”

“Yeah thanks for the warning. I’ll sit on the floor next time until you give me the all clear.” Sasses Bucky as you sit, grabbing the pillow and smacking him on the side of his head while also pretending not to notice your little theatric as you turn towards the screen. Very nonchalant.

Bucky on the other hand is left with some disheveled hair and the dumbest smile on his handsome face while you press play and grab a beer from out of his right hand, “I’m gonna take this.” You add before gasping in excitement, “You wanna watch something?! I have a party trick! It’s a good one too, you wanna see!”

“Please.” Snickers Bucky as you turn to face him better. He watches in awe as you raise the bottle to your left horn and in one calculated motion, use the sharp tip to crack open the beer bottle. “Wow.”

“I know right!” You exclaim with excitement, “It took me a week to perfect it. I just kept breaking the bottles neck and then Steve would drink after cause he can’t get drunk so.....uh yeah, you want me to open yours too?”

“I’d be honored.”

After drinking both your beers and watching the movie progress in relative peace, with the occasional gust of wind against the glass and a crack of thunder and lightening here and there. All was going pretty well, Bucky was laying on his one side while you were laying on your stomach totally engrossed in the film until....

Crack! BOOM! Darkness.

“Dammit! They were getting to the best part!” You whine, shifting around to sit while dramatically yelling out your frustration as Bucky turns to lay on his back, suppressing bemused laughter while you curse the shit excuse for efficient electricity in this place.

“It’ll come back on soon.” He inquires, “Guess you’ll just have to talk to me now.”

Snapping your head over to him, you scoff, “Why do I feel like you planned this?”

“I thought you planned this? Considering.....well, I guess I don’t really know.” He says thoughtfully, pausing for a moment before he hums, “We could ask each other questions.”

Y/N this is the absolute perfect opportunity, take it you lovestruck idiot, “Uh, yeah sure....I like knowing things.” You internally cringe, wanting to smack your head for that one; and you thought you could go a full hour without embarrassing yourself. Nope.

Nevertheless, Bucky smiles in the darkness, “Alright uh, let me think.......hmm okay uh.....where are you from? Since I’ve never really asked about that before.”

Well, fuck. I guess he’s going for the big guns straight off the bat.

Biting your lip anxiously, you twist a piece of frayed fabric from your one strange little pillow as you gather your courage to finally tell him everything. This is it, no holding back, “Oh uh.....well......you know I’m not from earth, yes?”

“Yeah, I did know that. The horns.”

“Right, good.” You mutter, your voice wavering with nervousness so much that Bucky sits up and turns to properly look at you even if he can’t really see your face.

“Y/N, are you okay?” He worries, brows furrowing in concern.

Hastily you regain your once dampened composure, “Yes! Yes.....yeah, I’m good. Awesome. Great....”

“Y/N.”

“Yeah.”

“Is it because you had a bad childhood?” Quips Bucky, using your own inside joke against you to help lighten the mood and make you laugh.

Snorting in amusement you smack his arm, Bucky mentally rejoices when he hears the sweet song of your happiness coming back, and the light sting of your always powerful hand.

“I didn’t have a bad childhood Bucky.” You admit, voice suddenly somber and thoughtful, “I didn’t even have a childhood.” Already getting depressing Y/N, nice one.

“oh.”

You shrug, letting out an apprehensive sigh as you look from the window then back to Bucky again, while he tries to watch your every move in the blackness of the room, “Bucky....there’s some things in this world that are so incredibly hard to comprehend and fully understand....you’ve seen the power Wanda can create and the talent of the mind stone inside Visions head. Yes?”

He sits in deep thought at your intriguing words, trying to piece together where you may be going with this, “Of course. What does that have to do with you?”

“I wasn’t actually born like a normal being....rather, I was formed and created by my mothers will and raw power. I was molded by earth, thunder, magic, and chaos.....I am.....well..” You sigh, “I don’t really know.”

“Well that’s......neat.”

Cracking a small smile, you continue on, lest confuse him more, “My mother...which I assume you’re curious about by now. She’s essentially, goddess of the Underworld, keeper of beasts and master of chaos. Some type of divine something, who can really say when I’m not even sure.”

Bucky stays silent for longer then you would like, each extra second making you grow more nervous and regretful for revealing all this to him. Soon enough he answers, “So that means.....Y/N you’re technically a demigod?”

“I guess.”

He pauses for another moment before gently shaking your leg, “Y/N! That is the coolest thing anyone has ever said to me in my entire life.”

“What?” Is he serious?

“You’re a demigod! I’m sitting next to a demigod. Y/N I didn’t think you could be any more amazing then you already are.” Exclaims Bucky in awe as you cover your face in your hands, a flash of lightning illuminating your reaction.

Immediately he stiffens and feels maybe he shouldn’t have reacted that way, “oh, uh.....Y/N? Is that not a good thing?”

“No. Not really.” You mutter sadly.

Bucky frowns, “Please tell me why? Because I think you’re the best person alive and I don’t want you to be upset.”

Releasing your hands from your face, you let out a shaky breath, “It’s why I was created. Not out of love, or the want of a daughter.....she formed me so one day I will turn this world to ruin.”

“Why-I don’t understand?”

“She has made me live among the mortal before, in other realms, other planets very far away from here.....I learn about them, I see how they live, how they treat one another and if she sees that they are terrible and violent to each other through what I tell her....”

“Well, I imprison their world leaders, forcing them witness portals open to the Underworld...where beasts of all ugliness and terror wipe out most of the population.” You reveal, your voice breaking with every word, “I then kill all of them......and turn them to more beasts....hellhounds.....shadow creatures.”

You swallow hard as Bucky takes a moment to process the heavy imagery and story you’ve just told him. You can sense how conflicted he feels, he’s known you as the literal funniest and sweetest person ever; he’s come to fall in love with you even, how could you do such horrible things, “Did you enjoy it.” He asks, voice slightly colder then you would have liked, but you understand.

“It’s all I knew. It’s what she created me for, my only purpose. Her herald of death..I..I can’t say..”

“Did you?” He interrupts, sadness lacing his words now, the anger and disappointment only but a slight simmering in the back of his voice.

Your heart breaks in two, he feels hurt by this news of what you did to others, “I did.” You monster. He’ll never love you now.

The atmosphere is thick with emotional tension, if not for the sound of the raging storm outside, you’re certain you could hear a needle hit the carpet. His breaths are slow and heavy, you can tell he’s deeply conflicted with what to do now, yet he refrains from leaving your side.

“Why did you stop?” Asks Bucky, voice a soft whisper as a flash of lightning illuminates around your sides, ember eyes and two curled horns flashing for a brief moment and your heart sinks when he slightly flinches.

Hanging your head low, you nervously fumble with your hands, “Because I met someone....he reminds me of you actually, I guess I felt...” Biting your lip, you suck in a breath as a stray tear runs down the side of your cheek, “I fell in love....it was a long time ago, before this continent was discovered. He gave me humanity, empathy, and I saw what I was truly doing....I bared witness to the monster I truly was. So I ended it.”

You pause, nothing is said from either one of you for a long time until at last you break the tension, “I don’t deserve forgiveness from anyone. I hate my mother and my only friends are the people here. You don’t have to stay any longer then you want.”

“I want to stay.”

“oh.”

He takes another heavy sigh, “And this whole time I though I was the worst person on the team.” Muses Bucky to your great surprise and puzzlement.

“What? You’re not mad I don’t understand? Not even scared or disappointed...you’re just...uh...”

“I’m what? Y/N what wild thing are you about to tell me now? I cut it off with learning you’re a demigod who caused multiple apocalypse’s.”

Slowly sitting up a bit more, you fold your legs and fully face him as he tries to see you in the darkness, “I can kinda....uh....sense peoples emotions and umm....smell the scent if its strong enough.”

“Can you sense what I feel right now?” Asks Bucky, voice above a whisper though you hear it all the same.

Hugging your sides, you nod, “Yes.” He’s practically ecstatic, he feels relieved and grateful that you have trusted him enough to share something so deep and personal. He smells sweet, better then the most lovely of flowers or most delicious of fruits. He smells of love and hope, paired with a smile that could warm a frozen lake.

Reaching a hand out into the darkness, you quickly take his with yours as he brings his other one in to gently clasp your hands with his, “Don’t believe I would ever leave you Y/N....you mean more to me then anything else in this entire world and I’m honored to be someone so special to you. I hope this isn’t too soon or rushed but uh....I love you.”

The way you subconsciously tighten your grip on his hands is enough to indicate that his words have been well received, “I know Bucky.” You confirm with a small smile, “I love you too.” A second later his lips crash messily against the corner of your lips as he fails to completely find them in the darkness. oh, you idiot.

Smiling into the kiss, you pull him into a fierce hug as your lips move slowly and blissfully against one another, his hands quickly find their way around your waist as yours reach up into his long dark hair that you love so much. Moments after you and Bucky fall in a heap of tangled limbs onto the soft mattress, lips still feverously locked with one another. Soon he begins subconsciously smiling into the kiss which causes you to giggle with amusement for how absolutely adorable he’s being right now.

Confused to your cheerful laughter, Bucky breaks from the kiss to gently beck your cheek before resting his head against yours, “I wish I could see you right now.” Mumbles Bucky as he holds you flush against him.

Kissing his stubbly cheek, you quietly snicker, “I can see you.”

“Let me guess?” Humorously asserts Bucky as his fingers trail casually down and up your back, “You can see in the dark too......this whole time?”

“Yeah.”

“Do I look good?” He wonders.

“I’m gonna faint you’re so hot.”

And with that said does he pull you in for another heated embrace, tonight's defiantly going to go extremely well for you. Without a doubt.

#bucky barns x reader #bucky barns imagine #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #marvel x you #marvel x y/n #the winter soldier x y/n #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier #bucky barnes

[vintagedolan]

mixtape | track thirteen

| masterlist | faceclaims | playlist |

Sean died in January, and it was cold. That much Grayson remembered. The funeral was fuzzy apart from a few very vivid memories, including one of sitting outside on a bench, the wind cutting through his slacks and freezing his legs. His arms were so cold he couldn’t even feel the wind on them through the numbness, seeing that his suit jacket was wrapped around Cameron’s shoulders. He’d borrowed one of his dad’s ties - it was a tacky pattern but subtle in color. Sean had worn it to the twin’s 8th grade night for football when he’d walked them proudly across the field with the biggest smile on his face. He shivered. But it was still better than being inside, looking at the casket that had his dad but not his dad inside. 

That suit was gone. He hadn’t been able to look at it after that day, so he’d donated it, despite his mother’s qualms that he may need a nice suit again someday. 

That day was coming much quicker than he expected, and that’s how he found himself in the back of a department store sifting through racks of jackets. But there was one bright spot in the scenario, and she was looking through ties on a table to his left. 

Indy held one up with a soft smile, the most she’d been able to offer him in the last day.

“She liked blue.”

Grayson could only nod, the knot in his throat stealing his voice. He took the tie, running his thumb over the silky fabric. They were quiet as they went through and found him a few suit options to try on. Indy had to hold them up high so nothing dragged the ground as they headed to the fitting rooms. 

She sat in a hard plastic chair outside, crossing her legs and fighting her emotions. She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to feel. After all, there was no reference, no textbook on the expected emotions of preparing for a funeral of a 15 year old with your ex. If he even was an ex. They’d woken up that morning in bed together after all, with his warm breath on her back, arm around her, hand tucked under her rib cage like it used to be. 

And she felt warm. And safe. And guilty. 

How could she have a flicker of happiness in a world without Bekah? How could she be grateful, or glad that Grayson was just two doors down fiddling with suit buttons when her being gone was the reason he was there? 

It was a blessing, the hold he still seemed to have on her. Because as soon as he walked out her mind went blank for a moment, only able to process him, and his broad shoulders and strong arms that she could still see under his jacket. 

“This is the best of the three. What do you think?” 

It took her a minute to find her words. “Yeah, it looks nice. Very… funeraly.”

Grayson looked in the mirror. “Funeraly. Well, that’s the idea I guess. Works for me.”

He disappeared again, coming back out in his nice pants and crewneck. He looked good, but the look of worry in his eyes made Indy uneasy. She didn’t like when people worried about her. 

“Let’s go find you a dress.” 

She’d been dreading that part. She wasn’t much of a dress girl most the time, but she wanted to look her best for Bekah. She deserved that. So with a sigh she led Grayson across the store to the women’s section, looking for anything black she could find. 

He was patient, offering his hand out to hold any of the options she found to try.  She only found three that didn’t look like they were meant for a night out, and Grayson took the spot in the plastic chair while she tried them on. They all fit, but her favorite was the long sleeved number she’d found - tight enough to be flattering, and long enough to be modest and warm, with a long metal zipper that she couldn’t quite get all the way up on her back.

She reached and stretched as far as she could before she huffed in defeat, unsure of whether she should ask him for help. Was that weird? Or was she just making it weird. 

After another moment of contemplation, she stepped out in it, stomach fluttering against her will when she saw Grayson look up and catch his breath. 

“Can you…” She moved her hair out of the way, revealing her back. He stopped breathing for a second, chair clanging against the wall as he rushed to stand up.

“Yeah, yeah of course.”

He moved behind her quickly, finger delicate against her spine as he moved to the zipper. It sat right below her bra clasp, and he recognized it as the one with a bent hook, a casualty of the dryer that he’d accidentally put it in back in November. He realized he was taking too long and zipped it up quickly, patting it lightly at the top to let her know he was done. 

He met her eyes in the mirror, and realized she’d been watching him the whole time. 

“Do you think this will be warm enough?”

“We’ll probably be inside most the time, so it should be okay.”

She nodded at him, disappearing back into the dressing room and taking a few deep breaths. Nothing felt real for some reason, and it took all her effort to settle herself, keep herself in the moment she didn’t want to be in. She stripped out of the dress quickly and slid it back on the hanger. It wasn’t worth the argument when Grayson held his hand out for it when they headed towards the counter. With her inability to work shifts her bank account was grateful for his that seemed to always be overflowing. Surely a $50 dress wouldn’t break the bank, but she still thanked him when he swiped his card. 

They walked into the parking lot in silence, and she climbed into the truck when Grayson pulled the door open for her. He sat the bags in the backseat once he climbed in, starting it up and cranking the heat up. The air was still cold, cold enough for Indy to shove her hands under her thighs in a bid to keep them warm. Grayson frowned and grabbed his jacket from the back, passing it to her. 

“Thanks,” she said, laying it over her lap and smoothing out the wrinkles. She was rigid in her seat, especially when Gray reached his hand over to the back of hers so he could back out of the parking space. She didn’t realize she was holding her breath till both his hands were back on his side of the console.

She hated it. Hated feeling like he was watching, waiting for her to fall apart at any given moment. But she loved it too, because if he was there to look at her with pity it meant he was there. Her mind was exhausted with the constant battle of trying to put a word to her emotions, to guide them into whatever box they were supposed to be in. 

To Grayson, it just looked like she was numb. Her eyes were trained on the New Jersey roads every time he glanced over to her, either out the windshield or through the passenger window. He wanted to talk to her, wanted to know what she was feeling, wanted to grovel on his knees and beg for forgiveness. Instead, he held his tongue and continued down the road, 10 under the speed limit just to buy a few more extra minutes with her close enough to reach. He wasn’t sure what would happen when they got to the house. If she wanted to go upstairs, to avoid him until the funeral, he’d understand. He’d let her, even if it hurt. He deserved that. He’d sit at the bottom of the stairs and wait, and listen, and hope she didn’t need him but also hope she did. 

The two played their own games of tug-o-war, parallel to each other until they made it to the house. Ethan was on the porch with Gizmo’s cage in his hands, holding it up and talking to her as they walked in.

“See Giz? It’s too fucking cold out here.”

“Brrr,” Gizmo squawked. 

“Yeah, fuckin brrr. So you gotta stop screaming to come outside before Ma loses her mind.” 

“You sure you aren’t the one losing your mind?” Grayson asked with a smirk aimed towards his brother. 

“Outside!” Gizmo yelled and Ethan clenched his fists. 

“Did you all find outfits?” Ethan asked to distract himself, looking at Grayson’s empty hands. 

“Shit, yeah I left them in the truck though. I’ll grab em Dee, go get warm.” 

Indy nodded and walked inside slowly, taking her shoes off and sitting them neatly by the door. She walked to the living room, sitting down carefully on the couch with her eyes trained on the woods. Even the squirrels seemed to be grieving, moving slow through the grass at the tree line. She watched them anyways, envied their oblivion of all the tragedy of the world as Grayson hung up their clothes in the coat closet and watched her from the foyer. 

Her shoulders were slumped forward, and it pained him to see her literally curled in on herself in a way that he hadn’t seen before. He ran through a million different things he could say, but none of them seemed good enough. There were never words for times like these, and he knew that. Sometimes, it was better to just sit in silence. So he gave it to her for a few minutes longer, disappearing to the other room where his conversation wouldn’t be overheard. 

When he reappeared, Indy was watching a robin, feathers bright red against the dreary gray of the sky outside by the bird feeder. He stepped into her gaze, offering her a soft smile.

“C’mon. Let’s get you some warm clothes and get outta here for a little while, hmm?”

“Where are we going?” Her tone was flat, and it made his chest feel tight.

“You’ll see. Just trust me.”

Those words hung heavy in Indiana’s mind as she followed him upstairs, let him pass her an old pair of boots that were too big for her and his thickest jacket to fight off the cold snap that seemed to follow the warm air that had brought the thunderstorms. 

Just trust me

She did. Or at least, she wanted to, and she willfully climbed back into the passenger seat of the truck, let him drive them down the road on the route that was familiar now. They made it all the way to the tiny homes without seeing another car. Indy felt like the universe was sad with her somehow, and she was grateful for it. She wasn’t sure she could handle seeing someone smile as if the world was still the same happy place it used to be. 

She blindly followed Grayson until she realized they were going around the house instead of inside of it.

“Where are we going?” She asked again. Her voice echoed off the trees.

He simply held out his hand. She took it without question, ignoring the tirade of contradicting emotions it stirred in her gut. He still had his callous where his pinky met his palm, but it was softer than usual against her skin. 

They walked through the trees slowly until they reached the cliff that Indy recognized from the first time she’d been out to Jersey. It felt like lifetimes ago that she’d been there, but the water still flowed and she still clung to Grayson’s arm the closer they got to the edge.

“Come sit over here,” he coaxed, leading her towards the middle and helping her sit down slowly. Once she was settled he sat down beside her, ignoring the cold that seeped through his pants from the ground below him. He could see his breath in front of him, but he kept his eyes on the water running far below his feet. 

“Gray.”

He tried to ignore the way his heart sung - she said his name better than anyone.

“Why are we here?” She asked. 

He was quiet for a moment, and he picked at his fingernails before he spoke.

“I used to come out here a lot when I was younger and got overwhelmed. I don’t like being around people when I need to feel something, you know? Well, I can only be around certain people anyways.” 

The fact that Indy seemed to be one of those people wasn’t lost on her as she listened to him.

“I just thought coming out here might help.”

“Me or you?”

“What?”

“Is it supposed to help me or you?”

“I was hoping both,” Grayson said.

To his surprise, Indy chuckled under her breath and shook her head.

“Well, I’m fine. I’ve done this before after all. Should be pretty good at having people I love die on me by now.” 

Grayson couldn’t find the words for a response, and his cheeks flushed from her tone. She’d never been so short with him before, and he felt embarrassed to think that somehow he’d be the one who could help her when it seemed no one else could. But he swallowed hard and looked over to her. 

“I’m not fine. And you knew her longer than I did. And I know something about losing people too. That doesn’t mean it ever gets any easier.”

Something in his words seemed to pull her out of her defensiveness, and she took in a shaky breath, eyes brimmed with tears. 

“Sorry.”

“S’okay. You can have a redo, if you want,” he teased, bumping her shoulder gently just to see her try to smile. 

“I know you get it, I didn’t mean it like that. I just… I don’t know how to do this.”

“Nobody knows how to do this Dee. No one knows how to lose a 15 year old that was supposed to be here for a lot longer than she was,” Grayson said, clearing his throat when it tightened. Indy sniffled and rubbed her nose on the sleeve of her jacket. She was quiet for a moment and they listened to the wind rustle the trees until she spoke again.

“Her mom wants me to write her eulogy.”

“Fuck, Indy.”

“I’ve never done one before. Charlie did mom’s.” 

“Do you want to do it?”

“I want her to have one,” Indy sighed, picking at the grass. “A good one though. Not the one that the preacher does where they pretend like they knew her when they really didn’t.”

Grayson reached for her hand and waited for her to look up at him.

“Maybe Charlie can help. I called her, when we got back to the house. She’s flying out tomorrow.”

Indy froze, then turned so quickly that Grayson put a hand on her hip to keep her steady on the cliff’s edge. 

“Really? She’s coming?”

Grayson nodded. “I know that things are… hard, with us right now. And I know that things are always better for me when Ethan is around so I figured it couldn’t hurt. I think her flight comes in at -”

Before he could finish Indy threw her arms around his neck. He wrapped her up as best he could without pulling her over the edge, scooting them back slightly to keep her safe as he held her as tightly as he could through all their layers. 

“Thank you,” she whispered over the trees. She couldn’t find any other words to express what it meant to her, so she left it at that and breathed him in in secret while he held her. He turned his head to press a kiss to her temple but stopped himself, squeezing her tighter instead before they untangled.

She pondered her next question for a moment, then decided she truly had nothing left to lose.

“Can we stay out here tonight? At the house.” 

Grayson paused for a minute, stopping himself from immediately saying yes, reminding himself not to take advantage.

“You wanna stay at the tiny house?”

She nodded, fingers going back to the grass, and she kicked her legs so the heels of her boots bounced slightly off the rocks. 

“The funeral is tomorrow. I need to write the eulogy, and I don’t want a bunch of people around while I do that.” 

Silence hung heavy until he gained the confidence to ask. 

“Am I… one of the people that can be around?”

For the first time in a long time, Indy smiled. 

“Did you think I was gonna kick you out of your house?”

Grayson chuckled and shook his head.

“I mean you did break my heart, so it would be fair though.”

He froze.

Indy laughed so hard it bounced off the trees, made a few birds take off on the other side of the water.

“I’m fucking kidding,” she said, nudging his shoulder so he’d let out the breath he’d been holding.

“Jesus fuck Indy, don’t do that! Too soon!” He huffed, but he was laughing too, heart light as he saw the first glimpse of the girl he’d fallen in love with since he’d gotten home. It was easier to breathe with her around, even in spite of everything else going on. He looked at her, tried to take her in, but he stopped short with a frown when she tried to hide a shiver.

“You’re cold.”

“Just a little,” she mused. 

“Ma is making dinner, we’ll go home, eat, pack some stuff then come back out here.” Indy only nodded and let him help her to her feet. She held onto his arm until they were off the cliff, and after that too. Over top of his jacket, she traced 333 on his bicep, eyes on his tattoo that was barely visible under his growing hair. She wondered if he’d gotten any more while he was in LA.

She wondered a lot about what he’d done while he was in LA, whether she wanted to or not. But she wanted to know if he’d been up every night thinking about her. If he’d cried in the shower as many times as she did. 

She wondered if he’d hurt. 

And she wondered how much she would hurt when he decided it was time to go back. Her mind was screaming as she clung to him, wary that she wasn’t keeping him at an arm's length like she had swore she would. 

Her heart drowned it out, singing quietly deep within her at the familiar firmness of his muscles under her hand, the warmth of him beside her. 

She’d take whatever hell was sure to follow with open arms if it meant she could be back in his, even for a little while. 

Grayson played Cudi on the way back to Lisa’s and tried to hide his smile when he heard Indy singing along quietly beside him. He used the time to think of his pitch to Ethan, his plan for how they could split time on each coast, or even manage most of it from offices in New York. It wasn’t his top priority - that was getting Indy through the funeral. But he couldn’t hold off for long.

The house was warm when they arrived in more ways than one - cozy and filled with the smell of spaghetti that had Indy’s mouth watering for the first time in days. Grayson breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her fill her bowl, happy to see her appetite had returned. 

Still, when they sat around the table, Ethan and Lisa were cautious to start a conversation, worried they’d say something that could trigger the wrong emotions. After listening to the scrapes of forks against porcelain for too many minutes, Indy cleared her throat. 

“I think we should do something a little different tonight. Something to help everyone’s spirits.”

Everyone breathed.

“Yeah?” Grayson said.

“I say we eat on the couch and watch Emperor’s New Groove in true Bekah fashion,” she proposed, standing with her bowl. No one questioned her - they simply followed into the living room with their dinner in hand.

They laughed at all the right times during the movie, and the world was okay for just a minute. Indy still ached deep within herself, guilt punctuating each smile she let creep up, but she fought it like she’d learned to after Nicole had died. 

Grayson was asleep before Kuzco made it back to the castle, exhaustion catching up with him quickly. He was heavy against Indy when he leaned onto her, one arm going over her waist. She felt Ethan’s eyes on the two of them but she ignored it until he came closer, speaking in a whisper.

“Charlie’s flight gets in around 7, I’ll go get her so you all have time to get some sleep,” he offered.

“Thanks E. And thanks for coming with him.”

“Of course. And hey, anything you need Inds. Literally anything, just tell me. We’re all here for you.” 

She bit her lip and looked down at Grayson.

“Is he okay?” She asked. 

Ethan gave her a small smile. 

“This is gonna sound fucked up, considering what we're all doing tomorrow, but… this is the best I’ve seen him since we left actually. I mean, he feels like shit for not being here for, well for either of you. He just wants to take care of you as best he can.”

“He’s always been pretty good at doing that,” she murmured, brushing some of Grayson’s hair back from his forehead. He stirred, curling up closer to her. 

“Get some sleep Indy. Love yah,” Ethan said, leaning over and giving her a peck on the top of the head. 

She sat with Grayson for a bit longer, let him rest until her arm went fully numb and she knew she’d fall asleep with him unless she got up. 

She coaxed him up and made him give her the keys, let him climb in the passenger seat as she packed up a bag of pajamas and their clothes for the morning. He was asleep against the window by the time she got back in the cab, and she was happy to let him sleep. She figured he’d be happy to climb into bed when they got to the tiny homes, but he shook himself awake on the walk inside, cranking the heat up once they cleared the threshold.

“I’m okay bub, you can sleep.”

“You’re not gonna sleep?” He said instead of conceding.

“I need to write the eulogy.” 

His eyes saddened in understanding, and then he was rummaging through the bag for the paper he knew she’d packed. He sat it down on the small table and then returned to the kitchen. 

Indy watched him as he pulled two mugs down from the cabinets, the clay ones with tiny “I” and “G”’s stamped into the speckled surface. They’d found them at the craft fair they’d stumbled across back in November and picked them up, but Indy realized it was the first time they’d used them as Grayson made them a cup each. 

“Gray.”

“What do you need,” he asked quietly. 

“Um… space, I think. Just so I can think clearly for a little bit. It’s not anything you did, I promise, it’s jus-”

“Dee, you don’t have to explain. It’s okay. I’ll be upstairs. Take your time, okay?”

She nodded and took the cup he offered with a grateful smile, turning to the table to work. 

As much as it went against every instinct in his body, he left her sitting there and moved up the stairs to the loft. Even without the coffee that he downed, he knew he wouldn’t have been able to sleep. Especially not when he heard Indy’s pen clicking against the table, followed by her sniffles that seemed to amplify in the high ceilings. 

He stared at the slats of wood and tapped his fingers against each other as he fought to stay still, give her the space she asked for. He was sure it was just part of the process, and he didn’t want to interrupt her. It could have been minutes or hours, he wasn’t sure, but when her sniffles turned to sobs, he didn’t have the willpower anymore. 

She heard him coming down the stairs and broke down even further, burying her face in her hands. 

“Hey, baby hey it’s okay. You’re okay,” he whispered. “Take a break.”

She knew she shouldn’t. She knew it was wrong, that she shouldn’t want to. But the need for comfort was too strong, and she broke. She stood from the table and walked over towards the small bench seat. Grayson sat first and she didn’t hesitate to climb into his lap. She buried her face in his neck and let the misery have her, let her body shake with the force of her pain and let him absorb it too. She let him hold her, let him love her the way she always thought he had. And it felt good there in his arms. The world was lighter with him there to split the weight. She knew it would crush her when he was gone, but she didn’t care. She wanted to believe Ethan’s words, that Grayson was better there with her, and it was just enough to make her feel like maybe she wasn’t a terrible person for giving in. 

Indy fell asleep in Grayson’s arms. He didn’t care whether the eulogy was finished or not - he picked her up and moved slowly across the room, carrying her up the stairs carefully. She woke up just enough to grab for his hand, a silent invitation that he was happy to take. He climbed into bed beside her, let her curl up into him as he set an alarm he didn’t want to wake up for. They slept peacefully despite it all.

The next morning felt like a dream in the worst way. Nothing seemed to really be happening as they woke up and got dressed in black. Grayson looked good in his suit, but that was about the only thing Indiana noticed. He helped zip her dress and put her eulogy in his jacket pocket. 

“You ready?” He asked as she fixed the lapels on his jacket.

“No,” she sighed, but she walked out the door anyway. He drove to the house as the sun rose over the Jersey hills. They were quiet, and Indy watched the trees go by, watched the world spin as if nothing was different that day. It made her angry, the same way it had the morning of Nicole’s funeral. But she’d learned that day that the world had no consideration for anyone, no matter what you gave her. So she swallowed it down and kept herself as numb as she could until they pulled into Lisa’s driveway and she remembered where Ethan had gone that morning. 

“She’s here,” Indy said, her voice strained. It was the most emotion Grayson had seen out of her that morning, and he wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing. But he didn’t get a chance to ask, because Indy was throwing her door open and bolting for the house. 

She found what she was looking for in the living room.

Charlie was sitting on the edge of the couch in a black dress, and as soon as she saw Indiana she was on her feet, rushing down the hallway.

Indy was sobbing before she reached her, but Charlie caught her and wrapped her up in the hug that only she could give, and Grayson watched as his girl went to pieces. Charlie held strong like big sisters do, shushing Indiana and coaxing her over to the couch, helping her sit down as she cried into her shoulder. 

“You’re okay, hey, you’re alright. Breathe,” she said, but her eyes were on Grayson.

“She’s gone,” Indy blubbered, and Charlie winced at the pain in her voice.

“I know. I know.”

Grayson stood with useless hands in his pockets and tears in the corner of his eyes. He hoped that giving Indy her sister, even just for the day, was enough to help more than he could on his own. When her tears finally stopped, it seemed his plan had worked, even if it was only marginally. She ate a muffin that Lisa had made, and made everyone coffee just the way they liked it to keep her mind and hands busy as everyone got ready to go. She didn’t bother with makeup. It wouldn’t survive the day, that she was sure of. Lisa hovered, made sure everyone had enough to eat before they climbed into the SUV. She waved goodbye from the porch as they pulled away, the funeral home in the GPS. 

It was a somber drive. No one even tried for conversation. Charlie sat in the backseat with Indy, privy to the fact that Grayson glanced back at her every few minutes to check in. Each time she was staring out the window again, chewing her cheek. 

Indy didn’t know whether the ride was long or short. She didn’t know much of anything other than she felt like she was going to be sick as they parked. Cold air rushed in as Grayson opened her door and helped her down.

“You okay?” He asked, just for her.

She nodded, but they both knew it was a lie. 

They passed car after car in the parking lot - almost every space was filled it seemed. Somewhere in her mind, Indy hadn’t processed how many people probably knew Bekah. How many people cared. 

Still, she felt alone in the world when she walked inside of the building. The carpet was dark, with swirling patterns of gold and roses. The entryway felt gold, but the parlor to the left was colder. It was marked with a sign. 

Bekah Andrea Newcomb. 2pm.

Indiana couldn’t breathe. She reached to her left, finding Grayson where she knew he would be, holding onto his arm like she had in the hospital room.

“We can wait as long as you need Indy. There’s no rush to go in there.” 

Her voice failed her and she only nodded. Grayson didn’t move an inch until she did a few minutes later, gathering the strength to step inside. It was fragrant, both in the way an unpleasant place is and in the way a floral shop was. There were enough bouquet arrangements around to fill a house. It was overwhelming, but not so much that Indy didn’t notice the photos. She couldn’t look at them - she’d go to her knees if she let herself even process a single one. So she kept her eyes forward as they walked to the opening of the door on the right.

There was a wide middle aisle, lined with pews on either side full of people.

At the end was Bekah. 

Even from afar, she looked cold inside her casket. Indy’s mouth tasted like metal as she forced herself to walk forward. Grayson walked tall beside her, but she could hear him sniffling above her. The Newcomb’s were beside their daughter, and they offered sympathetic smiles as they noticed the pair headed down the aisle. Luckily, they didn’t say anything - they simply stepped away to give them privacy as they made their way towards the casket. 

Indy held her breath as she got closer, eyes blurry as she looked down into the casket, her hands finding the cold wood when she reached it.

“Oh,” she whispered. Grayson coughed out a sob, wrapping his arm around Indy’s waist and turning his face into her hair. 

Bekah looked like herself, but didn’t. Her hands were folded neatly over her stomach, above her hoodie pockets. It took a moment for Indy to realize what she was wearing. A purple hoodie, her favorite leggings and her thunderbolt headscarf.

Her lungs tightened. 

“No, no that’s not right. It’s not right,” she whispered, shaking her head as her hands fluttered above Bekah. 

“What? What’s wrong?” Grayson asked.

“Her hoodie, she wanted her blue hoodie, that’s the one she asked for, that’s what we told her they were gonna find her in. She needs her hoodie, Gray she needs her hoodie, get her hoodie.” She couldn’t get a breath through her throat as she choked on her words, looking to Grayson for help. His face was twisted up in pain as he guided her away from the casket. 

“It’s okay Indy, it’s okay,” he cried.

“She needs her hoodie,” she sobbed, holding onto his lapel to keep him close to her and to hide her face. All he could do was hold her and cry. No one looked at them and he was grateful as he led her back out of the room, back to where Ethan and Charlie were waiting. It took her a few minutes to catch her breath, even with Charlie’s hand on her shoulder. The eldest Cross put herself between her sister and Grayson, her protective instincts taking over. Grayson couldn’t be angry. He’d step aside happily if it helped Indy. 

Her sister seemed to help to calm her down enough to catch her breath after a few minutes. 

“Sorry, I don’t know what happened in there,” she whispered eventually, looking over Charlie’s shoulder to find Grayson’s eyes.

“Hey, no apologies today Dee. It’s okay.”

She tried to believe him, tried to accept that it was okay. Something about the sincerity in his voice made her trust him. 

“I wanna go look at the pictures,” she said quietly, wiping her eyes and standing up to smooth out her dress. “Get some new images in my head.”

Grayson stepped closer to her, offering her his arm as they headed back to the parlor. Things were calmer as they started to look at all the frames. Grayson smiled at the first picture he saw of Bekah with hair, her afro tall and proud as she stood with a small soccer trophy and a smile so big it closed her eyes. 

“She taught me how to do twists once,” Indy smiled, leaning her cheek on Grayson’s bicep. “I sucked at it I’m pretty sure but it was better than nothing.”

“I’ve never seen her with hair before.”

“It made her so sad to lose it every time. She always said it was the worst part.”

“My dad hated losing his. Can’t imagine.”

“Oh my god, look at this one,” Indy smiled, moving to the next frame on the table. It was Bekah in the pool as a toddler, with round pink sunglasses and a purple floaty, with her dad behind her, pushing her along it seemed.

“She always told me she hated water.”

“She did.”

Indy turned to see Martina behind her. Her eyes were puffy but she had a small smile on her face.

“When she was four she fell off a pool float with her cousin, almost drowned. Ever since then she never even put a toe in,” she explained. She stepped up next to Indy, putting an arm around her shoulder. 

“Thank you for coming. It means the world to us that you’re here, and that you’re speaking later.”

Grayson realized quickly he wasn’t part of the conversation, and he excused himself with a reassuring look to Indy. Charlie was still where she’d started out in the entryway, eyes darting around nervously. It was obvious she was uncomfortable, and whether it was because she didn’t like funerals or didn’t know anyone, he wasn’t sure. Either way she hid it well when Indy needed her, but she didn’t bother with the facade when Grayson approached. 

“She okay?” was his greeting.

“She’s talking to Mrs. Newcomb. She seems alright, considering.”

“Considering,” Charlie laughed dryly. “Yeah, she’s been through hell and back. But you know that.”

It stung, even though it was deserved.

“I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

“Well. In my experience what you meant to do doesn’t matter nearly as much as what you did.”

“I know.”

“I’m glad you’re here, but I’m scared to see what happens when you leave her again.”

“Charlie, I’m not gonna le-”

Suddenly, Charlie stiffened, eyes trained over his shoulder on something outside the front doors that made him cut his explanation short. 

“Fuck,” she hissed.

“What? What is it?” Panic rose in Grayson’s throat as he followed her gaze. 

There was a man in a navy blue suit walking through the parking lot. It wasn’t someone Grayson recognized, but nonetheless the hair on the back of his neck stood up. On instinct, he side stepped in front of Charlie, blocking her from the door.

“Who is that?”

“Our fucking dad.”

“What?“ Grayson whirled. “How the fuck did he even know about this?”

“I told him I was coming into town, he asked why, so I told him. Jesus, I didn’t think he was gonna show up! Indy’s gonna freak if she sees him, she can’t see him.”

“Don’t move,” he said, darting out of the entryway to peek into the viewing room. Indy was towards the front, talking to some of Bekah’s relatives it seemed. He caught sight of Ethan and moved to him quickly, putting a hand on his shoulder and trying to make it seem as casual as he could.

“Keep Indy busy and whatever you do, don’t let her go outside.” 

Thankfully, Ethan didn’t ask for an explanation, and he simply started to move towards the front of the room as Grayson exited out the back, just in time to get to the front door before Kenneth made it in.

To his surprise, Charlie was right beside him when the heavy wooden door closed behind them.

He was shorter than Grayson expected. It was obvious his hair had once been blonde, but it was gray now, badly managed with box dye that he could still see remnants of by his ears. 

Charlie’s breathing sped up and Grayson took a step closer to her, just barely in front of her.

It didn’t go unnoticed by Kenneth, who stopped short at the bottom of the three brick-layed stairs. 

His eyes were blue when he looked up. They skipped over Grayson’s broad frame to Charlie and softened just a fraction. 

“Char.”

She stiffened, and Grayson held his ground. 

“Sir, this is a funeral. A funeral I don’t believe you were invited to.”

Kenneth’s eyes went cold the way a father’s do when they’re threatened, and he fixed them on Grayson. Gray enjoyed the fact that he had to crane his neck to see him.

“And who exactly might you be?” Kenneth spat.

“I could ask you the same question sir.”

“The fuck are you, a funeral bouncer?”

Grayson flexed his knuckles.

“Sure, if that’s what you want to call me. Either way, you aren’t welcome here and you need to go.”

“Look, I’m here to see my daughter, alright? Now get out of my way.” 

“I can’t do that.”

Kenneth narrowed his eyes as it clicked.

“Ahhh. So you’re the boyfriend then.”

Grayson stayed quiet, but his stomach turned at the smirk that creeped across the man’s face.

“Get out of my way, boy.” 

“I can’t do that,” Grayson repeated himself and set his feet.

Kenneth moved up another step, but he stopped, eyes on Grayson’s elbow where a hand had appeared. 

Charlie.

“What’s her name?”

Kenneth laughed. It was an ugly sound.

“Are you kidding me Charlie? You think I don’t know your sister’s name? Give me a fucking break.”

Grayson saw the tears brim in Charlie’s eyes, and he clenched his fists.

“No. I’m talking about the 15 year old whose funeral you’re using for your own personal gain. What’s her name?”

Kenneth didn’t have an answer. Charlie stepped in front of Grayson, standing toe to toe with her father as she took a deep breath. 

“Leave. You aren’t welcome here. You aren’t welcome anywhere near my sister, or me for that matter.”

“Charlie.”

“What type of piece of shit do you have to be to show up when your daughter is hurting like this? Hmm?”

“I just knew she’d be here-”

“You also know her address, Dad. You chose here because you want her weak, you want her to need you and she doesn’t. Get out. Leave. I’m not playing this game anymore.”

“Charlie c’mon.” Grayson could see the panic in Kenneth’s eyes as he realized what his eldest was really saying. 

“Indiana has always been so much smarter than me. And I should have listened to her when she told me to not give you the time of day.” She shook her head, a few tears slipping past her eyelashes, taking mascara with them.

“Charlie, you’re all I have left.”

“Yeah, and you did that to yourself. Now, I have a funeral to get to, and if you try to follow me I’ll let him beat you into the ground like you deserve.”

With that, she turned and walked back through the doors.

Grayson stared at the broken man for a moment longer, and then he turned to follow her. She was sitting in one of the big chairs by the table by the window, hands shaking slightly as she brushed her hair behind her ear. 

“Hey, you okay?” He squatted down beside her to get to her eye level. He saw Indy in the way her lips shook while she breathed, trying to pull it together. 

“Do you want me to call Dev?”

She shook her head with a dry laugh.

“No, he’s already worried enough about me. I’m okay. Thank you for that, by the way. Pretty sure he would have just walked right past me if you weren’t out there. I shouldn’t have even told him about this.”

“You didn’t know he was gonna show up. I’m just glad he didn’t make it inside,” Grayson sighed, eyes flickering over to make sure Indy couldn’t see them. Charlie knew what he was looking for. 

“Well, you’re the hero of the day Dolan. I’m sure deflecting the dead beat father counts for some brownie points in winning her over,” she said. 

Grayson’s brows furrowed when he looked at her. He reached to the table and pulled a tissue for her to wipe her mascara with before he spoke.

“I wasn’t gonna tell her. No need to stress her out more than she already is, you know?”

Charlie looked at him for a moment, her head cocking to the right just barely, and she smiled just barely.

“Yeah. Right,” she agreed. 

“I’m gonna go find her, but come get me if you need me okay?”

She nodded, smiling when he patted her knee and moved back into the parlor. Ethan was walking around with Indy, looking at all the floral arrangements that had been sent. Grayson slotted himself beside her.

“Are the blue ones different flowers though? Like what makes them purple?” Ethan asked.

“They’re all hydrangeas. I think it has something to do with the soil, that’s what makes them different colors.”

“Acid. The soil has to be acidic, Ma always adds stuff to get the blue ones at the house,” Grayson chimed in, subtly relieving Ethan of his duties. Indy relaxed when she felt him next to her.

“The blue ones are my favorite,” she hummed, rubbing a petal between her thumb and finger. 

“Noted,” Grayson said. “Let’s get you some water, it’s almost 2.”

She didn’t protest, nerves buzzing with dread as she realized it was almost time for her to speak in front of so many people. 

“You have my speech right?”

He patted his chest pocket where he’d tucked it that morning.

“You’ve got this. I’ll be right there the whole time, okay?”

She nodded, following him to the small kitchen to grab a water bottle from the fridge.

Time flew, and before she knew it everyone was seated in the parlor as quiet music played and the service began. There was a preacher who spoke, read some scripture. Indy could only hear her own heartbeat in her ears. Grayson’s hand anchored her, squeezing hers just barely. He traced over knuckles with his finger. B-R-E-A-T-H-E.

She tried, but her lungs felt tight when the preacher gave her the cue. She stood and smoothed out her dress, took the paper from Grayson. It quivered in the air as she carried it to the podium. There were too many eyes on her, too many red and bloodshot from tears already shed. 

She looked at Grayson. He only nodded at her, a silent reassurance. She smoothed the paper out on the wood, inhaled through her nose, and spoke.

“Hi. For anyone who doesn’t know me, my name is Indiana Cross, and I was a friend of Bekah’s. I’ve never done one of these before, and to be completely honest with you, I’m not really sure how to do one of these. So, I thought about what Bekah would do when I asked her a question - she’d tell me we were living in the 21st century, and that I should ‘just google it’. So that’s what I did. But it wasn’t helpful, because eulogies aren’t designed to be told about 15 year olds. Because 15 year olds are supposed to turn 16, and get their driver’s license and go to prom and grow up to be 17, and so on. So, I don’t think any of us know how to do this -” she waved around the room with a broken exhale - “but that’s okay.”

“I’m the type of person who believes that there are reasons for a lot of things in life, but I’m struggling, like I’m sure many of you are today, to understand what the reason for Bekah being taken from us so soon is. Maybe it’s beyond our understanding. Maybe it’s the cruelty of the universe. All I know is, it isn’t fair, and it isn’t going to make sense to me for a very long time. But all we can do is work to remember Bekah for the light that she was, and will continue to be. So, I’m going to share a few stories about Bekah, and the people that loved her. 

She could hear the sniffles, both her own amplified in the mic, and those from the crowd. She locked eyes with Grayson, who was sitting in the third row. He only nodded his head, willing all of his strength up to her somehow.

“I first met Bekah in a place where you generally don’t want to meet someone. The hospital. But, as anyone could guess, Bekah made a hospital seem like the best place to be simply by being there herself. We played pranks on the nurses, and then got said nurses in on our team and ganged up on the other ones. We ran the halls on good days, we cuddled up and watched movies on bad days. We snuck extra pudding and ice cream from the kitchen once when she was thirteen and got caught, and let me just say, I think that girl could have talked her way out of any trouble she ever got herself in. But the most important thing about that first hospital stay with Bekah was what she told me when I met her. She looked me right in the eyes and she said ‘don’t treat me like I’m sick and I won’t act like it’. I had never met a kid with so much strength and bravery in my life. But that’s what we did, and by god did she keep that energy until the very end. 

“Bekah went into remission 3 times. And when I found out she was back for this next time, I figured it would be just like her past rounds. She would beat it, because she’s Bekah, and she always beats it. I don’t know where her strength comes from, but I know some of it is from her parents. But in all honesty, I think she was just a special person with something special in her. She was kind, and loving and strong and hilarious and witty and smart and beautiful and special. I would give up just about anything to get to see her grow up, to see the woman she would have become if - if she’d been given just a little bit more t-time.”

Indy’s voice began to falter, her breath hitching in her throat on the way out. She grabbed onto the podium, her notes blurry with tears. Grayson twitched in his pew, moving to stand up, to go to her. She saw him and moved her hand to the top of the wood, tapping her fingers subtly. Somehow, he knew what she meant. Wait.

“But I can find some peace in knowing how Bekah’s last days went, and I hope I can share some of that with you. She wasn’t scared to die. She went peacefully, and I don’t have a single doubt that she’s up in heaven watching us right now, probably making fun of me and also thanking me for not telling you all some of the stories of things we got up to. So to end it, I’ll quote a lyric from one of her favorite people, who she claimed would ‘totally be her boyfriend if he knew she had cancer’, Harry Styles. He says “remember everything will be alright. We can meet again somewhere, somewhere far away from here.” For now, Bekah is far away. And that’s a hard reality, for all of us, because she deserved more time here. But I know we’ll see her again someday, and I’m going to hold onto that until this starts to make a bit more sense, if it ever does. So, I love you Beks. Always have, always will. And I’ll see you again someday. Promise.”

Her voice cracked at the end as she stepped back from the microphone, fingers numb and cheeks hot and stiff from the salt of her tears. Grayson stood as she walked back down the center aisle to him, reached out to take her hand and help her to her seat. With the pressure gone and everyone’s eyes elsewhere, she crumpled into his chest, grabbing onto the lapel of his suit jacket as the sobs began to break free.

“Shhh, you’re okay. You did so good,” he whispered just for her, his own tears disappearing into her hair. Charlie ran a hand along her back to soothe her as the preacher returned to the podium to speak again. She didn’t hear much of what he said. Everyone cried as the service moved on, sounds of rustled tissue boxes and quiet sobs behind fists made the soundtrack to the show no one wanted to see. 

Everything moved too quickly, and suddenly everyone was lining up to pass by and give their final goodbyes. Indy clung to Grayson’s hand as Ethan and Charlie excused themselves out of respect. 

Indy blinked away her tears to get one more look at Bekah when it was her turn. Grayson reached to adjust her head scarf, and Indy rubbed her hand, willing herself to pretend it was warm. 

Grayson was a pallbearer, eyes red and puffy as he carried her much too light casket to the back of the hearse. It gave Indy comfort, knowing she was safe with him.

She held it together on the walk to the car, head held high the way Bekah would want it to be, and she noticed Charlie scurry to take the front seat, forcing Grayson into the back with her. She was grateful for it, especially when she slid into the middle seat so she could sit next to him as they joined the procession. 

Indy watched the trees, and Grayson watched her.

The cemetery was beautiful as they drove through it. Plenty of trees that Indy knew would be beautiful in the warmer months. It gave her some peace to know that she would rest in such a lovely place, even though she knew she wasn’t really there. She hoped it would give people a place to remember her fondly, to talk to her. She herself had never really cared for cemeteries, but she stood tall anyways and went through the motions. She watched Grayson carry the casket to the pedestal, took the rose that they gave her off of the casket spray and said her goodbyes quietly. 

The sun shone brightly above them, but it began to drizzle right as she was about to climb into the car. A sun shower, she supposed.

Her tears mixed with the droplets that fell. 

“Hey Beks,” she smiled, an odd sense of peace flowing over her as she stood there for a moment to soak it in before she climbed into the car. 

Ethan drove them back to Jersey, and Indy laid her head on Grayson’s shoulder the whole two hours it took to get there. 

When they got back, it was obvious what Lisa had been doing to keep herself busy. There was a casserole in the oven, both a vegan and non-vegan option, with fresh salad and bread she’d baked herself. 

“I know it’s not really dinner time yet, I just figured you guys might be hungry when you got back, and I didn’t have much else to do,” Lisa explained with a sheepish smile. Grayson just smiled at her and kissed her temple.

“Thanks Ma. You’re the best. Dee, you want something to change into?”

“Sure. My stuff is out at the house though,” she reminded him.

“I’ll find you something,” he said before he disappeared upstairs.

“The house? You all stayed out at the tiny homes last night?” Charlie asked quietly. Indy bristled, ready to defend herself. 

“I needed to write the eulogy, I needed somewhere quiet, and it’s nice out there. I just needed somewhere nice for the night, not my place.”

Charlie was smiling.

“I’m not saying it’s a bad thing,” she said. Indy balked, unsure that she’d heard her sister correctly. She resisted the urge to quote some of the explitivies Charlie had called Grayson when she first found out he’d left for LA during their phone call.

“You’re not saying it’s a bad thing…” Indy confirmed, waiting.

“All I’m saying is… maybe I was wrong. He’s a good guy. Just be careful, okay? Can’t see you like that again, especially with all this going on too.”

Indy was blushing, but she nodded. 

“Here, try these. Might fit if you roll them and tie em’ real tight.” Gray came down the stairs with a pair of black sweatpants and an old wrestling sweatshirt. She took them gratefully, moving into the bathroom to change. She felt free once her dress was gone, like she’d pulled some of the weight of the day off with the fabric. The sweats were still too big, but she didn’t mind. 

Outside the door and down the hallway, Ethan had pulled his brother aside.

“You need to be here.” 

Grayson waited for him to continue.

“I was fucking wrong. I got my priorities fucked, and I put that on you, and I’m sorry. I know the businesses are out in LA, and I don’t think we can really change that right now, but we’ll figure it out. I can fly out here when we need to, and you can come out when you have to.”

Indy heard voices down the hall. 

“Flights are cheaper on Thursdays usually, we could always plan for that.”

It hurt worse somehow, for it to be in Grayson’s voice. 

It was Tuesday.

She disappeared quietly down the hall in the other direction, her stomach turning. 

It was what she knew would happen. It was the pain she’d told herself would be worth letting herself be with him, just for a few more days. 

The pain in her gut had other ideas. The smell of the food from the kitchen made her nauseous when she reentered, and she gave Lisa a sympathetic smile. The angel in the whole ordeal, the last thing she wanted was to hurt her.

“Hey Li, I’m not feeling too good. I think I’m gonna lay down upstairs for a bit if that’s okay.”

“Of course, of course it’s okay. Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m good. Thank you, and thank you for cooking. You guys go ahead and eat if you get hungry, I’m probably good for tonight.”

“Okay sweetie, get some rest.”

Indy managed to get upstairs undetected, and she found herself in Grayson’s room out of habit. She didn’t know what else to do, so she climbed under the covers and let her tears fall. She felt stupid, and unwanted, and sad. She’d let her heart get trampled again, all for a few days of comfort. 

She felt pathetic. 

Grayson’s feet thudded up the stairs only a few minutes later. She buried her face in the covers like a child, made her breathing even and slow. 

He creaked the door open quietly, feet pausing before he came over to her. 

She felt his hand on her hair, smoothing it back, and then his lips on her temple. 

“I love you,” he whispered, and then he was gone. 

Indy’s heart jumped to her throat, and her eyes shot open when she heard the door latch. 

Her mind ran circles around itself as she laid there, staring at the ceiling wrapped in the blankets that smelled like him. 

Did he love her? And if he did, did it matter?

It was times like that she wished more than anything that her mom was there. The closest thing she had was Charlie, who she suddenly felt guilty for leaving downstairs. But at the same time, she knew she couldn’t reappear so soon. So she sat, and she spiraled and rationalized and tried to make sense of her world that had fallen apart around her so quickly. 

Downstairs, Grayson’s mind was wandering. His stomach led him, as it often did, but the greater part of him wanted to be upstairs in bed instead of at the kitchen table. But he couldn’t deny his mom’s cooking, especially after a hard day. So he sat at the table, glad that Charlie was no longer staring daggers into him from across the table. He gave Indy an hour or so to sleep before he went to check on her again, surprised to see her awake, perched on the edge of the bed.

“Hey you,” he smiled. “You ready to go?”

She looked up quickly. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought she looked nervous.

“Go?”

“To the house. All our stuff is out there, and I figured Charlie could stay in here tonight.”

“Yeah. Yeah, the house would be good.”

He held his hand out for her and she took it, let him lead her out to the truck, down the roads to the houses. 

“You still tired?” Grayson asked once he’d kicked his boots off.

She thought of laying with him and nodded, walking up to the loft so he would follow. 

He laid down beside her, let her curl up to him like she always had. It was peaceful, with the quiet hum of the furnace and the woods outside. The sun had set on their drive, and the dim lights from the kitchen made everything a warm yellow. 

Indy took a deep breath and moved her hand under Grayson’s hoodie to find his skin. 

Y-O-U-C-A-N-G-O

Grayson was quiet for a moment.

“What?”

She traced it again, slower, but she didn’t get to finish. He sat up in the middle of it, turning to her with concern all over his face.

“You want me to go?”

She stared at the ceiling.

“Want isn’t really the right word. But you can go.”

His heartbeat picked up, and he moved into her eye line.

“What does that mean.”

“I really appreciate you being here. I do. But I’m gonna be okay. You don’t have to stay here just because I’m sad. You don’t have to stay for me.”

A punch to the gut would have hurt him less. 

“Indy. Indy, look at me.”

She turned and found his eyes, and to her surprise, his were watery.

“You’re my only reason to stay. I want to stay.”

“Stop. Just stop, I heard you earlier, you don’t have to pretend like you want to be here.”

“What’re you talking about?”

Indy sat up on her elbows.

“Flights are cheap on Thursdays,” she said. Grayson’s heart dropped for a moment, and then the pieces came into place. 

“Indy. Baby, that wasn’t what you think it was.”

“Then what was it Grayson, please enlighten me.” 

Grayson took her hand and kissed her knuckles. 

“That was Ethan and I trying to figure out how I can stay here. How I can stay here with you. Because I want to be here. I want to be with you, I always have. Ever since I met you I knew I was meant to be wherever you are. I never should have left, it was the dumbest shit I ever did. And I didn’t want to bring all this up, because I know emotions are fucked right now, with Beks and everything. But I want to be here with you, or I want you with me, or I want whatever it takes for us to be okay and together. If that’s something you still want.”

Her head was spinning. 

“You still want me?”

He nodded. 

“Never stopped.” 

Indy took in her first deep breath in days.

“Oh.”

They sat in silence for a while. Grayson opened and closed his mouth a few times, thinking better of his words before he spoke them. 

“It’s okay if you don’t know tonight. There’s too much going on right now, I don’t expect you to know how you feel about it right now,” he finally said, voice too loud in his excitement and nerves.

“Yeah. I need time to… think.”

“Yeah! Yeah, no that’s good. I want you to take your time with it, of course. And I can give you as much space as you need, you know, like, um, I can go sleep on the couch. If you want.”

Despite everything, Indy laughed.

“You don’t even fit on the couch.”

“I could make it work,” he said sheepishly.

“You’re fine. Just go to sleep, and I’ll… I’ll think about it.” 

There was an excitement in his voice that she hadn’t heard in a long time - it snuck through even as he tried to hide it.

“Okay. Sounds good. Well, uh… goodnight.”

“Goodnight Gray.”

They stared at each other for a minute, unsure of what to do with all the new emotions that had come to light.

“We should probably lay down, if we’re gonna sleep,” Indy said.

“Right, yeah. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” she said again, watching him awkwardly pull back the covers and climb in fully clothed. She wanted to laugh at how awkward it was, as if they hadn’t been in each other’s arms every night since he’d been back. He kept his back to her, and she knew with her mind buzzing she wouldn’t be able to sleep. 

She pulled her laptop out of the bag by the bed, fired up her hotspot and started to scroll through her feeds, passing mindless time and keeping herself busy until Grayson began to snore, rolling to his stomach. It was a sweet sound, and she couldn’t help but to reach over and move his covers up, her fingers brushing over his arm.

He stirred under her touch, grunting a bit as he half woke up, sitting up just enough to pull the yellow hoodie over his head and toss it off the bed.

“Whatcha doing,” he mumbled, reaching a blind hand out until he found skin, fingers landing on her leg under the covers. Indy smiled and moved her hand away from her keyboard, scratched lightly up and down his back, over his tattoo as a thought crossed her mind. 

“Just emails. Almost done.”

“You okay?” He asked, voice muffled by the pillow. 

“I’m okay. Sleep.”

“M’kay.”

He was snoring again momentarily, and once she was sure he was out she claimed her hand back, clicking quietly until she got to what she was looking for. 

Her email from UCLA. 

She scrolled down to the bottom, looked at the two links she had stared at so many times since it had arrived in her inbox.

Accept. Decline.

She moved her mouse and clicked once, and then she closed her laptop, put it on the nightstand and cuddled under the covers. Grayson huffed at her movements, reaching for her in the dark. She let him pull her closer, relishing in the feeling of being with him for another night.

#mixtape #ONLY ONE MORE TRACK GUYS #WHAT #WHATTTTT #then the epilogue #grayson dolan #grayson dolan fanfiction

[msfcatlover]

Me: *rereads my old Portal fics*

Me: “Y’know, some of these are still pretty good! Maybe I should replay the games, and give writing these another shot...”

My brain, always ready with AUs and my latest hyperfixation: TMA crossover with Jon as Caroline, but he doesn’t lose himself in the upload process.

Me: “I... I don’t know if that would work...”

My brain, refusing to be derailed: His robot name could be “Self-aware Intelligent Machine Simulation.” SIMS for short.

Me: “That’s not a great robot name.”

My brain: No worse than “Genetic Lifeform and Disk Operating System.”

Me: “.......Fair.”

My brain: Testing is like statements; he doesn’t want to like it, but it’s addictive and eventually he kinda needs it to stay sane. He regularly gets in trouble for trying to make the tests less dangerous for the test subjects, because like... draining the acid out of the acid pit ruins the integrity or something.

My brain: It actually makes no difference, but obviously Jonah is Cave in this crossover. He’s researching immortality, and this is just one of the ways he keeps Jon under control.

Me: “Elias was his first attempt?”

My brain: Yeah, but it was just a brain transplant. Now he’s worried about the integrity of his brain itself, I mean, physically it’s getting pretty old. And it’s not like aging is fun anyway.

Me: “So, I assume Martin’s Chell then.”

My brain: Obviously.

Me: “Obviously. Where does everyone else fit?”

My brain: Daisy and Basira are trying to get the whole company shut down for horrible human rights violations, but are struggling to find evidence. They go undercover as test subjects, only to realize they’re in too deep and have to fight for survival.

My brain: Melanie’s a reporter, supposedly doing a profile on Jonah, but secretly investigating all the disappearances that keep happening amongst the staff. Georgie brought her in on the case when Jon stopped answering all calls.

Me: “Tim and Sasha?”

My brain: Scientists, were on the same team as Jon. Might get kicked down to test subjects for asking too many questions about his “transfer to the AI department.”

Me: “Wait. All of this is pre-fall-of-Aperture. Doesn’t that take a lot of the punch out of making Jon our GLaDOS equivalent?”

My brain: ..............................

My brain: Mid-fall-of-Aperture. Terribly understaffed, running out of money, the “AI department” is literally just Jon on the paperwork, Jonah’s desperately pushing the testing/experiments to figure out the limits of brain-uploading before he loses access to the equipment.

Me: “I don’t think that scans.”

My brain: Sure it does! What’s the testing in the games even for anyways? It’s all cognitive, the portal gun itself only gets used in a handful of different ways.

My brain: Now the testing is specifically there to stress Jon out and test the stability of his personality matrix; no point in uploading yourself if the first major issue you run into corrupts your code or causes a major error. It puts Jon through the wringer, even zapping him with viruses and stuff, to ensure the process works, because Jonah doesn’t have the time or supplies for more than one test subject.

Me: “......huh.”

My brain, getting more excited: Merge the Eye-pocalypse and Prentiss attacks! Some sort of biological agent gets loose in the facility, and Jon hacks the security system to try and stop it. Any hermetically sealed area of the facility gets locked down, and he gasses the rest of the facility to keep the contaminants from spreading.

My brain: But they’re underground and the ventilation system isn’t the best maintained, so he can’t risk letting anyone out for fear they’ll get poisoned too. Just has to wait for the gas to rise up out of the facility on its own.

Me: “OH! So from the perspective of everyone in the testing tracks, this AI has just gone completely rogue and taken over the facility, killing a whole bunch of people and trapping them inside!”

Me: “I bet Jonah’s office is basically a fortress, and he still has security access to cameras and intercom, so he just eggs them on. Because this is an insurance nightmare, he wants to upload himself ASAP, so Jonah tells them there’s a manual override procedure for SIMS, but he can’t do it alone. They need to get through the testing, reach the central control chamber, and help him deactivate SIMS before they’ll be able to leave the facility. But actually, he’s planning to delete Jon entirely and replace him in the mainframe!”

My brain: Like the bastard he is.

Me: “So now, everyone’s in this weird limbo of trying to figure out what to do and who to trust. I mean, obviously in the AI apocalypse you want to trust your fellow humans, and SIMS did just gas the whole facility and trapped them in the testing tracks, but on the other hand ‘Elias’ is a shady bastard and SIMS isn’t always that bad?”

Me: “Like, sure, it can be pushy about testing and you can’t expect a robot to be good at emotions, but sometimes it’ll do something like ask for a verbal check-in because they’ve been down there a while and that can be psychologically hard on most humans? Someone complains about food, and SIMS sounds almost genuine when apologizing for not having anything else that can be safely transported to the testing tracks at this time. Once, Martin found a corner away from the cameras to take a nap in, and he’d swear SIMS was actually panicking over not being able to find Martin when he woke up.”

My brain: Tim and Sasha make snide, tired jokes about Jon giving the damn thing all his social awkwardness, as well as his name and voice (for some god-awful, unknowable reason.) They don’t want to let SIMS endear itself to them, knowing it probably killed Jon.

Me: “No, no, knowing that it killed Jon. They absolutely ask at some point if Jon’s okay and are told that amongst the however-many living staff members that are left, Jonathan Sims is not amongst them. What else are they to assume, other than that Jon’s been gassed by his own creation?”

My brain: Oooh...

Me: “Martin’s the only one who actually feels endeared to SIMS by the time they meet up, partially because he’s the only one who was trapped alone. Tim and Sasha were together, and already have reason to hold a grudge. Daisy, Basira, and Melanie met up early and spend a lot of free time fantasizing about smashing the damn computer when they find it.”

Me: “Martin was alone and he hates it, so he tries talking to SIMS, and is a little surprised when SIMS talks back. They’re not always pleasant conversations, SIMS can be curt and doesn’t have much personal info to share (being a computer and all,) but Martin does start to get a grasp on the situation as it must have at least appeared to SIMS when he pulled the lockdown-tigger. And for a supposedly evil computer, SIMS can be surprisingly helpful and seems almost as upset by the situation as the humans are.”

My brain: And there was that odd moment after Martin convinced SIMS to stop calling him “Mr. Blackwood,” and SIMS seemed almost flustered before very softly responding, “...Martin, then.”

Me: “Awww... please tell me Jon’s not actually dead, I need them to take him with them at the end...”

My brain: Suspended animation. The brain is still a vital part of the machine, but it never ages or degrades thanks to whatever combo of chemicals and cryosleep Jonah used to preserve him. Part of Jonah’s “manual override” involves adding a high-powered hard drive or four to replace the need for an organic brain, making full digitization possible.

Me: “But where’s he stored? He can’t just be strung up in the middle of the machine, that’d be unsustainable and Jonah would never let anyone within a hundred yards of it lest they realize the truth! A cryotank in a fake computer bank? A stasis tube hidden amongst the wiring, which they could discover while clambering about installing the hard drives?”

My brain: A cold room disguised as a locked closet or something, with the upload chair still inside of it? Only Jonah has the passcode, technically, and he was planning to go in while everyone else had their own tasks to do, just shove Jon’s body out and plug himself in, leaving Jon to finally die on the floor just a short distance from his friends while Jonah replaced him in the machine, removed the safeties, and escaped into the internet?

Me: “Oh, and Jon gave them a universal override or something to get them out of a dangerous situation towards the end! It actually leaves half the group feeling pretty low, having the thing they’re trying to destroy just hand them the key to its destruction out of pure, innocent trust.”

Me: “Then while Jonah’s distracted giving out instructions, Martin (useless with computers,) wanders over and opens the door, letting out a gust of cold air with a hiss. Martin coughs on the escaping gasses, and Jonah rushes to say that the cold room is very delicate, and ought not to be tampered with by people who don’t know what they’re doing—“

My brain: —but Martin blinks back the stinging, shock-induced tears, eyes adjusting to the dark of the closet and gasps.

Me: “And Martin’s only ever seen Jon in passing, really, they never properly worked together. But he was a little sweet on him even back then, and he’s heard the stories from Tim and Sasha, and he’s spent the last several weeks getting to know SIMS...”

My brain: ...He quickly calls Tim and Sasha over to confirm, just in case he’s got it wrong somehow. They’re just as shocked that Jon’s in there, with all his notes tucked away behind him revealing what really happened. Jonah tries to talk his way out of it, but is quickly arrested by Basira and Daisy.

Me: “Sasha finishes the notes first and makes her way back out. She’s shaking, overwhelmed with rage and grief and horror, and punches ‘Elias’ so hard he falls to the floor.”

My brain: Jonah starts to say something about assault, but Melanie congratulates Sasha for stopping him and Basira, completely deadpan, adds, “We all saw him make a break for it.”

Me: “Jonah shuts the fuck up.”

My brain: Part of SIMS’ programming was not being allowed to answer to “Jon” anymore. He never outright denies being Jon, just corrects people that he is the Self-aware Intelligent Machine Simulation. Tim finishes the notes, makes it to the cold room door, looks into the nearest camera and shakily asks, “Jon?”

Me: “For the first time, there’s a solid three beat pause before the intercom answers, softly and less robotically than before, ‘...Yes, Tim?’”

My brain: Tim starts crying.

Me: “Of course he does! He’s been grieving Jon for weeks at this point, trying not to let it show just how sad and angry he was that it all ended like this, and now it turns out that not only is Jon alive, he never actually left them at all! All those months thinking Jon ghosted them, left them behind in R&D for greener pastures, and Jon was all-but-dead in a cold room the whole time, and none of them ever knew! The relief, the joy, the guilt, the lingering bitter grief and rage, it’s overwhelming. Who wouldn’t cry?”

My brain: It takes them a few days to figure out the download procedure to return Jon to his body, especially since Jonah can’t be trusted on this front. Tim and Sasha are the techies, and they recruit Melanie and Basira for extra hands. (Martin’s still terrible with machines, and Daisy needs to watch Jonah to make sure he doesn’t escape.)

My brain: Martin, feeling useless, stays by Jon’s side in the cold room.

Me: “When Jon wakes up, Martin’s the first thing he sees.”

My brain: Martin sees him moving, meets his eyes, and gasps, “Jon?” Jon nods and tries to say something, but his throat is dry and his voice won’t work. Martin scrambles to get him a glass of water and steadies Jon’s hands as he drinks it. When he lowers the glass, Martin cautiously asks if Jon’s feeling better.

Me: “Jon just smiles and answers, ‘You said my name.’”

My brain: Martin’s confused. “What else would I call you?”

Me: “Jon shakes his head. ‘I just... don’t think I’ve heard you say it before. Certainly not to me. It’s... nice.’”

My brain: Martin laughs helplessly and says it again. “Jon.” Jon’s smile brightens, and Martin can’t help stepping closer, repeating Jon’s name again. Jon laughs along.

Me: “It’s on instinct that Martin takes the empty glass and sets it to the side, leans over the chair, touches Jon’s shoulder, cups his cheek. He hesitates when they’re nose to nose, breathing the same air, shockingly warm even when Jon’s skin is still cold to the touch. He meets Jon’s eyes and swallows. ‘Is this okay?’”

My brain: Close enough to feel the small, inaudible gasp before Jon whispers, “Please.”

Me: “They only get one short kiss in before the door opens and Tim makes a scandalized noise before loudly declaring this unfair and blatant favoritism. Martin all but jumps away, but Jon just rolls his eyes and thanks Tim for saving him. As the others pile in —Sasha claiming she did all the work, Basira needing to know if Jon’s up for making an official statement, Melanie both needing to pass on a message from Georgie and wanting an exclusive interview for her expose— Martin can already feel himself fading into the background, even as he and Tim help Jon to his feet.”

My brain: At least until Jon lingers, fingers lightly resting against Martin’s arm, and looks up at him with hope in his eyes. “Later?”

Me: “Martin’s not entirely sure what Jon’s asking (Jon isn’t really either,) but he agrees anyway. He doesn’t even hesitate.”

My brain:

Me:

My brain:

Me:

My brain:

Me: “.....WELL FUCK.”

My brain, smug despite it being 4:30am: Told you it was a good idea.

Me: “I hate you so much.”

#tma #the magnus archives #tma fanfic #portal #jonathan sims #jarchavist #jon sims #tma jon #tma fic #portal fic #portal fanfic #my life #mine #my writing #tma: all about jon #tma: martin #tma s1 crew #tma expanded social circle #tma: the asshole in charge

[colorfullfalls]

Me & You

Summary: Calum’s best friend internally pinned after him for years. At a party she finds out that Calum is seeing someone and her heart breaks. Except Harry Styles is there to make her feel better.

Calum and Y/N. A phrase heard so much to the people that knew them. Growing up as neighbors, they were the definition of a team. Y/N was the one who taught Calum how to whistle, he taught her how to ride a bike. Childhood memories engraved in their minds bonded the two together like magnets.

Calum took Y/N with them when they left as a band. She had a rough life at home and he wanted her out of there. Since then the Hood’s and the band became her family.

“Y/N, what are you doing? That is not how to hang up a balloon.” Calum laughed out, pointing to the balloon that was only half taped on.

She blew hair out of her face, her hands falling to rest on her waist. She gave him an exasperated look, “How else do you suppose to do it, Hood? You can’t put a tack in it, it’ll pop!”

Calum playfully pushed her out of the way and tacked the part that was tied off to keep the air from zooming out. He successfully completed the task and gave her a smug grin.

“It’s almost like it worked...”

She shoved his shoulder as she walked past him to stir the Buffalo dip in the crock pot, “Fuck off mate, I really tried my best.”

Calum paused at her words. He knew she was joking and her tone matched, but he did feel sort of bad. When he called her to ask about throwing a surprise party for Ashton’s birthday, she immediately was on board. She bought decorations, the cake, and helped him invite everyone. She really was trying her best.

“You are the most wonderful friend I’ll ever have.” He softly said, turning her to bop her nose before giving her a hug.

Her insides fluttered at the way his voice sounded so honest. She already loved him with all of heart and him saying shit like that didn’t help it. Because she over thought things- well everything. Especially when it came to them and their friendship.

All the other boys in the band had serious girlfriends that they were building their life with. Sure, Cal had girlfriends along the way- much to her dismay, but he wasn’t seeing anyone and hadn’t in about two years or so. Maybe he was holding out for her? She knew it was a outlandish idea but was it really? They grew up together, did everything together, and she developed feelings so was it too wild if he did too?

She relished the feeling of his arms wrapped around her. He smelled so nice all of the time and the scent was uniquely just him. Her trust in people was hesitant due to her parents but Calum was the one true person who she was completely vulnerable to. The boys were close but not to the level of trust she gave to the man in front of her.

He pulled away when he heard the bell ring, “People are arriving, my lovely Y/N. Shall we go greet them?” Calum mocked in a posh accent.

An hour later everyone was finally at the party, well besides Ashton. Y/N saw that Harry Styles was there and she offered him a smile as he walked up next to her. He gave her a warm hug, his hands resting comfortably against her back. His warm skin burned through her shirt and she mentally sighed when he pulled away.

“It’s been a while since we’ve seen eachotha love.” He said, offering his boyish grin that killed his fans.

Her and Harry hung out during the tour when 5sos joined them. While the boys were playing on stage, he would stand and watch with her. During that tour they became pretty good friends, and he did his best to keep up with her. Only a few noticed, but Harry always kept his eye out for her, but it was hard to get her without Calum.

“Last I saw you, you were just about to release Fine Line.” She spoke.

“I remember, ran into you while walking home. Have you listened to any of it?” He asked almost sheepishly, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Y/N now just noticed how nicely dressed he was. His black flowy pants went well his nice long sleeve butto up baby blue shirt. The first couple buttons were undone to reveal his beautiful chest. She felt her eyes drift, but quickly looked up at his green eyes.

She wasn’t stupid, Harry was absolutely beautiful. His beauty radiated and his personality amplified that by one thousand. He was mature, deep, and kind but also had a playful boyish side. And sass, lots of sass added to it. He made sure to check up on her weekly and she knew that he would help her with anything she asked.

She’d fall for him if it wasn’t for Calum.

“Harry, who hasn’t heard that whole album in it’s entirety? It’s amazing, man! Cherry melted me in the best way. Putting Camille’s voice in it? Genius. You put your heart into your music and it really shows...” you blushed slightly as you realized that you just gushed over him.

He shrugged his shoulders at your praise in the humble way that only Harry Styles could. His green eyes twinkled in the light at the idea of Y/N adoring his album. Songs that were a part of him.

He wanted to admit that Sunflower, Vol 6. and Golden were about her. That she inspired him to form lyrics that made people feel the same love he felt. She was his muse and she didn’t even know it. Harry wanted to tell her, but he wasn’t blind. Something was between her and Calum.

He respected Calum and didn’t want to interfere, but it was hard when his feelings never went away. And not there she stood so pretty in front of him, telling her that she listened to his music. That she loved Cherry. It was ironic that she mentioned the one about his ex but not the the two written solely about his thoughts surrounding her.

“Means so much to me that you enjoy it. I was actually wondering if you wanted to co-write a song with me for my next album?” He said, his left hand playing with the rings on his right.

Her lips quirked into a pure smile, “Me? Harry..”

“Don’t be bashful, I know you help write with the boys, even if you don’t let the public know.. Ash told me about it when we got drunk a year ago.” He admitted.

She scoffed, “I’m gonna hurt him....”

“So, what do you say? It can literally be about anything. It’ll be perfect. I’ll even buy you dinner over it.”

She paused before replying. Helping Harry with a song sounded fun and like a good opportunity to actually work with other artists, but it was a vulnerable thing. Sure, the two have had deep talks while high or drunk, but this would be a whole different thing. The last song she had worked on was Best Years and she thought of Calum the whole time writing it. That’s why it was so easily to spill out because he was across from her the whole time.

“If I write a song with you, do you promise to make sure I don’t get too drunk tonight? Because I have to go grocery shopping tomorrow and doing that hungover would just suck...” she said, making Harry clap in excitement.

“We have a deal, love.”

He extended his hand and they shook on it.

Y/N glanced over to where Calum was when she saw an unfamiliar woman standing beside him. She didn’t recognize her and honestly she was confused. Calum always told her when he met someone and he never told Y/N about her.

Harry followed her gaze and noticed the woman too, “Who’s that?”

Y/N crossed her arms, “No freaking clue...”

Calum caught their eyes and waved before grabbing her hand and brining her to them. Y/N’s eyes widened at their intertwined fingers, emotional pain twisting around her guts.

“Hey guys, this is my girlfriend, Maya.”He said, raising their joint hands as they both smiled from ear to ear. Y/N wanted to puke.

Maya was wicked beautiful. Her short baby blue hair matched Harry’s button up shirt. The color suddenly seemed unappealing to Y/N. Not only was Maya’s hair cool, but she had a dope septum piercing and had piercings and tattoos. Her beautiful hazel eyes smiled with genuine kindness and Y/N wanted to run away.

Calum was dating someone, but it wasn’t her. Y/N scolded herself for not preparing herself for this exact situation. Calum Hood was a beautiful man with a beautiful heart and wicked talent, of course he would find someone. She had just been dumb enough believe it would’ve been her.

Calum sensed Y/N’s unease and he suddenly felt bad for not giving her a heads up. He started seeing Maya two months ago and wanted to make sure it was solid before he had her meet the people so dear to him. He realized that was a mistake.

“I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.” Harry stated what Y/N wanted to but couldn’t.

Calum sheepishly shrugged as he looked at the hurt on his best friend’s face, “Sometimes things are better kept a secret.”

Anger swirled around Y/N like quicksand encapsulating her entire body. She wanted to punch him. Couldn’t he see the pain in her eyes and he had to joke about it and say something stupid like that? How could he be so daft about how she felt for him? He was her world.

She loved him with all of her being; however, at this moment she wanted to never see him again. She wasn’t the best at handling her emotions, so this pain transferred to anger.

Y/N rolled her eyes, “Sometimes friendships aren’t what you think they are. It was nice meeting you, Maya. Come on, Harry.”

She grabbed Harry’s hand and stalked off to the balcony of the house. The British lad followed silently behind her, willing to do anything she needed. As selfish as it was, he was glad to be the one she seemed comfort from.

Crocodile tears slipped out of her eyes as she wiped at them in an embarrassed and frustrated manor. She looked out at the hills of California and grumbled under her breath about love being dumb. Harry quietly shut the sliding glass door and walked over to lean on the railing beside her.

“You’re in love with him.” He softly stated.

She let out a pitiful laugh, “That obvious?”

He didn’t reply for a moment. Instead he took the time to observe her, and his heart stung at the sight in front of him. Her eyes were no longer the vast universe before him that made him believe that life was eternal, instead they were a sunken wasteland filled with sorrow.

Her knuckles were white from how hard she was making fists and her leg was bouncing up and down with anxiety. Harry recalled the one other time he saw her like this. It was when they got a late dinner together and her mom somehow called her.

He hated seeing her upset then and he hates it even more now.

“If you don’t show that you care about someone, you’re not human. Calum is your best friend that has been by your side, it’s natural to catch feelings. And you shouldn’t feel ashamed about it either, hun. Your feelings are valid, it’s understandable to be crushed right now.” His hands gently took hers and flattened them out so that hers would no longer be in fists.

“I’m in love with him.” She choked out, turning to maneuver herself into his embrace. His strong arms wrapped around her back and she clutched tightly to his shirt. She felt the skin of his chest against her cheek as she nuzzled into him.

Sobs shook her body as his left hand rose to lovingly play with her hair. Y/N was glad that Harry was there for her in this time. She knew she couldn’t go to one of the boys because it wasn’t fair to put them in the middle of this.

“I know, I know.” He muttered, glancing inside the house to see that Calum was standing with Luke and Michael. The three boys were starting back at him, all of their faces held regret.

“I-I thought that maybe he loved me too. Every song we wrote, I thought of him. His little gifts and sudden spurs of adventure he whisked me away on, I thought that it was special between us..”

Harry’s heart felt like it got punched. The girl he was head over heels was currently heart broken over his friend. He wanted to tell Calum off for missing out on what he absolutely wished he could have. Calum had his dream girl wrapped around his finger and the dude didn’t even know it.

Harry himself was surprised that Calum wasn’t in love with her too. She was just.. the best. She was adaptive to their life style, good with the fame aspect of their life, she was nerdy in the best ways, so humble and grateful that it was intoxicating to be around her, and she was so genuine. Calum was a fool to not see what was right in front of him. Blind not to see that such a wonderful human being loved him with every fucking inch of her soul.

He saw Calum move towards the door and Harry felt an instinct to get Y/N the hell away from him. He didn’t want her to have to see him and he knew that he couldn’t even look Calum in the eyes without feeling anger even if it wasn’t exactly fair.

Calum hesitated when he saw the death glare that Harry was unknowingly giving him.

Calum knew that Harry was smitten with his best friend. It was apparent that Harry always went out of his way to call her or get drinks when he was home. Hell, Harry had sent her a gift when he went to Japan because he knew it was her favorite place when she went with the band. It was zero surprise that he would feel protective over a crying Y/N.

Calum just wanted to talk to her.

Luke and Michael walked over with somber eyes as they noticed that this situation would not be dealt with tonight.

“Calum, don’t go out there. She’s hurt, man. Give her some time.” Luke gently warned, grabbing his arm.

“I feel so bad. I know she’s hurt but I didn’t think she would be this hurt from me not telling her that I met Maya. I thought maybe she would be a bit happy for me..” he trailed off at Luke’s facial expression.

“She’s fucking in love with you, mate. Why are you the only one who doesn’t see that?” Luke raised his hands in an exasperated manner.

“What?! No? Y/N? She’s not in love with me. It’s not like that.” Calum defended, glancing over at his best friend in the world sobbing in Harry’s arms.

“Seriously Cal?” Michael deadpanned, “You can’t be that stupid.”

Calum rolled his eyes, “Wouldn’t I fucking know if my best friend was in love with me?”

Michael laughed sarcastically as Luke awkwardly shoved his hands in his pockets. Calum sighed at their behavior.

“Apparently not mate. You know how it’s obvious to us that Harry fancies Y/N? Well we could tell when it came to her with you.” Michael explained.

“Why didn’t you say anything? Why couldn’t I tell?” Calum asked.

Luke blew air out of his mouth as he tried to think of how to explain it, “Cal, it wasn’t for us to say. God, you and Y/N pick the worst times to be in love with each other.”

Calum’s tongue poked out to wet his lips. He was annoyed that Luke even brought that up. Growing up Calum was enamored by his beautiful Y/N and he knew that he was in love with her when he was about sixteen years old. She was so supportive and always there, and she made the rough times optimistic and fun.

Unluckily for him, at the time he realized they were on tour with one direction and she went off with Harry a lot. Calum felt like he couldn’t compete so he didn’t say anything. Plus he felt sick at the idea of scaring her off. Over time he got over it and moved on because he was sure she didn’t feel the same way.

Now years later she falls in love with him?

“Things would’ve been easier if I would’ve went for it as a teenager... huh?” Cal asked, dumbfounded.

“Probably. Do you... do you still feel the same way? Because you got Y/N out there crying and Maya over there trying to talk to people she doesn’t know.” Luke pointed over to Maya.

Calum couldn’t help but smile over at his girlfriend. He felt so warm and fuzzy around her. She was so fucking cool, and he was proud that she was here with him. But that feeling was dulled down when he looked out on the balcony. Seeing Y/N cry could ruin his happiness at any time.

But it wasn’t because he was in love with her. He used to be, but now he fiercely loved her in a family kind of way. He forced himself to move on from her and the damage was already done. He desperately wished that she would’ve felt the same back in the day because maybe things would’ve worked out. But now he has a girlfriend and she’s out on his balcony crying.

“I’m not in love with her, but I care about her more than probably anyone else.” Calum admitted, “It fucking hurts to see her so upset.”

The door opened up and Ashton walked in, his hand came up to his chest from being startled at how many people were in the apartment. He grinned as Calum walked over and gave him a hug.

“Happy birthday, mate.” He said.

Ashton giggled, “You fucker!” He pulled Calum into a tight hug of appreciation.

Y/N stopped crying when she saw Ashton walk inside. Ashton deserved this party and she wasn’t about to ruin it. He was the type of friend that would do anything for anyone. He was the sun coordinating the planets, making them more efficiently. At the same time he was the moon, luring over loved ones in dark times to offer any sort of help; emotional or physical.

Ashton deserved all the good in this world and she wasn’t about to fuck it up over crying over a man. She thought about all the tik toks joking about gagging after crying over men, and that made her feel a bit better.

Y/N would suck it up for now and go give Ashton a hug because he was worth it.

Harry pulled away slightly when he saw that Ashton arrived too. He glanced down at Y/N and she gave him a small nod and a smile.

Harry once read that your body naturally rejects a potential mate that isn’t a match. Effects are; nervousness, unease, and weariness. Apparently the theory goes that if someone is right for you, being around them gives off a sense of contentment and peace. You don’t have to get overly excited around them to the point that you feel sick. Rather you sense of feeling at home with them.

That’s how Harry felt with Y/N. His past girlfriends he loved-sure. He was heartbroken when things ended with Camille, but he didn’t have that sense of calmness with her. Not like he had around Y/N.

He was utterly fucking stuck on her. She was the one.

He managed to feel this way for years without it ever going away. That had to mean something. His mom once told him that shit happens for a reason. Calum not loving her back like that could shift her to Harry. And as fucked up as that idea was, and how down right cruel it was, he hoped it was true.

“I need to go see Ash..” she paused, glancing up into his green eyes. Right then Harry knew that she was about to ask him to go along with her.

“Let’s go, c’mon love. I’m right here with ya.” He soothingly assured, grabbing her hand.

Together the pair made their way inside to where the party was happening. Y/N noticed that Maya was standing beside Calum, his arm wrapped around her waist. She clutched tightly onto Harry’s hand as a sharp pain zapped her in the chest. His thumb rubbed against her skin in reassurance.

“Y/N’s coming.” Michael whispered to Calum. He immediately dropped his arm from around his waist and shot a look to Maya saying that he would explain at a different time.

He tried to offer a smile to his sad friend but she refused to meet his eyes. Instead she moved to stand by Ashton, causing the groups attention to go to her. No one failed to notice Harry’s hand was gripping Y/N’s.

Harry seemed like a protective guard dog that was on edge when a stranger walked past its owner.

“There you are! I was wondering where the hell you were! Also, I’m gonna kill you, Cal said you did most of the work for this.” Ash teased, making Y/N’s lips quirk into a genuine grin.

“You’re gonna kill me? No buddy, it’s the other way around! You told Harry that I helped write your albums.” She accusingly joked, jabbing the black haired man in front of her on his chest.!

Ashton burst into laughter, “Harry, mate, that was a secret. Cant trust no one..”

Harry smiled in his charming boyish way, his red nails on show as he lifted his hands to shrug as if it was no big deal, “Maybe I wanted a share of her writing talent.”

Michael looked at Luke with wide eyes. Holy shit, Harry just pulled out a wild card. Could the British man not even hide how enamored he was with their friend? Michael admired his confidence to ask Y/N to write with him. Writing was something you had to have complete trust in with a person, and the proccess undoubtedly bonded souls.

Y/N blushed after Harry’s claim that her writing held any sort of talent. She usually went with the flow and the words poured out.

“You gonna do it? Help him write a song?” Luke asked

“She said yes. Unless she was fuckin’ with meh.” Harry said, side eyeing the woman next to him. He saw her laugh and he internally gave himself bonus points for being able to do that while she was so down in the dumps.

“Dinners involved with the deal so I jumped on it.” Her attention turned to Harry, “As long as it’s not Chick-tik-A. Their food sucks and they’re a company against homosexuals.... that’s a no from me dawg.”

Harry smiled, knowing that Y/N was feeling better.

“That’s great, bub. I’m super proud of you. I know the song will be a fucking hit.” Calum said, shifting his head to look at her.

For the first time she raised her eyes and sadly smiled at him, “Thanks Cal...”

****************

Months later and Y/N was truly doing better. Her heart still hurt a bit from Calum but she was gradually getting over it. Seeing him wasn’t to the same point of familiarity as it used to be, but the two friends were working it out as best as they could.

And truth be told, Y/N liked Maya. Maya was honestly a good match for Calum, as annoying as it was.

And Y/N didn’t have time to be upset because Harry had her too busy with constant adventures and late nights. She appreciated it. She appreciated him.

Tonight he took her to the poetry cafe that they liked. It’s small little place at the end of L.A. He said he found it one day when he was walking alone, pretty sad and feeling alone. Stumbled across the joint and found a deep connection to it. He explained how much it meant to him and it soon became important to her too.

The dim glowing lights brought upon a comforting blanket of support and trust to whomever dared to enter such a vulnerable place. Those who stood on the pedestal of expression compiled their feelings into a glorious ballad.

Harry and Y/N sat at the small table in the back, matching style ball caps sat upon their heads. His a pretty purple and hers a yellow. He told her that it would be better if they kept their identies more hidden.

Their chairs were moved to sit closer next to each other so that their hands could intertwine. They held hands a lot because it was comforting and felt so so so right. His thumb rubbed against her hand as another young woman stood up to go.

I was alone

Felt like no one cared

Ate dinner for one and cried tears enough for two

But something changed in my life

Because there was you

Y/N stopped listening as the woman’s words soaked past her skin, muscles, bones, and swirled to embed into her soul. These words were ones that she personally related with. Sure she had friends but she was so lonely when it came to romance. Until recently.

She wasn’t certain what was going on with her and Harry, but she felt herself caring more and more until the point that he became her number one. She talked to him the most, saw him the most, and for fucks sake she thought about him the most.

He seemed to always be on her mind. If she found a cute sweater she would think about how Harry would wear it with his pearl necklace. Saw a dog? Awh, he would love to pet it. Tasted red wine? She’d think about the time that he spilled it on his counter and acted surprised when she licked it off, claiming that it couldn’t go to waste. If she looked at anyone attractive, she couldn’t help compare them to Harry.

It was exciting. Moving on from Calum and to Harry was new and it brought upon a lot of foreign feelings. As great as all that was, there was a worrisome idea lodged in her head. Could Harry just be acting as a good friend like Calum had? She wasn’t sure and she was too much of a wuss to figure it out.

Harry detached his hand to start clapping along with the crowd as the woman said her thank you and walked off the stage. Y/N blinked back to reality as Harry turned to her.

“That was beautiful, really raw and genuine.” He spoke, offering a smile that showed his perfectly arranged white teeth.

“Yeah, it- it really was.” She was doing a horrible job at convincing him that she actually paid attention to it.

“Love, I’m not incompetent , I know you weren’t listening- you’re too caught up in ya head. What’s going in there?” His fingers slotted within hers, his blue nails the same shade as hers. She painted both sets last night when she went over for dinner.

How could a woman look at a man and explain that she was falling in love with him, but she was scared because last time she was in love she got hurt- she thinks she loves him but she doesn’t want him to think he was a rebound.

She felt humiliated, her eyes avoiding his. The open sign on the window was suddenly the most amazing thing to look at.

“Y/N, dear? Talk to me.” His lips were so close to her ear that she could feel his breath when he spoke.

“My heart is in your hands and that’s fucking terrifying to me because, well, we saw how that went last time.” She muttered, still not looking at him but rather the other people there with their significant others.

Harry was suddenly standing up and pulling her out of the small cafe during a poetic interpretation about being bound to your family.

Her heart dropped to her stomach as the wind bit at her soft skin. She fucked up. She really stupendously fucked this good thing that was going on between them. She must’ve misinterpreted his good nature for feelings and was a stupid bitch that fell for it.

He pulled out the outside patio chair and sat her down. She gave him a quizzical look as he moved her legs apart so that he could sit in between them on the concrete.

Reseda green windows to the soul gazed into her, tears pooling around them. His cheeks were puffy and red. He was visibly upset.

“I’m so sorry, Harry. I didn’t mean to make you cry like this, I shouldn’t have said anything to you-“ she rambled in desperate need to fix this situation before she lost him completely.

“Shhh. Not the least bit upset, ‘m crying because you’re my soulmate.”

Her eyes widened in shock, a forceful cough ripping out of her throat at his confession. He soothed her, handing her his water to take a sip. She waved his hand away to signal that she was fine.

“Mum told me that Buddhists say if you meet somebody and your heart pounds, your hands shake, your knees go weak, that's not the one. When you meet your soul mate, you'll feel calm. No anxiety, no agitation. First time we shared a conversation i only felt peace and contentment. When I’m not with you, my mindset is off. I don’t like being away from you for long. I worry if you’re okay or I wonder if you are reading a book that’s making you sad. You get so into your books, love. The empathy doesn’t stop when it comes to characters.”

She slightly laughed as she recalled the time he waltzed in on her crying because your character in your book was alone on their birthday. He immediately was making her a cup of tea and bugging her about if something happened with work.

“I’ve been waiting for you for years. Honestly was hopelessly pinning after you. Like everyone knew but you. So when you admit you feel the same way...I got emotional.” He softly said, playing with the rings on his hand.

Her hands itched to be the ones twisting his fingers around. So she did. His hands melted into the skin of hers as he grabbed them. Her thumb twirled his left middle finger’s black band. He blushed at the feeling. She did tend to do this when they were submerged in a deep conversation.

“You’re an emotional man, Har. Endearingly so. I admire it more than you’d think.” She retorted.

Harry sat up so that he was sitting more on his knees so that he was closer. His face closer to hers. She could smell his cologne infiltrate her senses. She wished she could bathe in his sun-like presence forever.

“I happen to admire that you admire me.” He teased, blinking as more tears fell down his godlike sculpted face.

“You’re still crying, you’re gonna make me emotional.” She laughed as tears were starting to build up in her own ducts. This was really intimate and she was getting mushy.

“Can’t help it. Jus’ soft cuz of you.”

Her hands shifted to grab the collar of his coat, pulling it until his lips were melting into hers He hummed is satisfaction, his hands shifting to cup Y/N’s face to bring her closer. It was a desperate kiss, the kind where emotion tries to convey the feelings not able to form into words.

His lips molded to her, trying to memorize the taste for the rest of his days. His nose was shoved against her cheek as he slipped his tongue in, sliding it against hers greedily, finally doing this after dreaming of it for years. She pulled away for air, his lips chasing hers in a drunken daze.

“Let me breathe for a sec.” she gently pushed him away with her palm pressed against his face. He laughed, leaning back.

“Used to think singing on stage was the best feeling, but that was before I got to kiss those sweet lips. Just one more peck?” He made kissy faces in her direction.

“Thank you.”

His face scrunched up in confusion, “what?”

“Thank you for.. being there. Taking care of me like you do. Making me laugh by being dumb. Especially for buying pizza rolls in bulk. I know you don’t like them as much as you let on. But I do and you do it for me. Means a lot.”

“Anything for you, m’love,” He stood up and led out a hand, “Me and you. Please let that be the rest of my life.”

Y/N decided in that moment that Calum Hood getting a girlfriend was the best thing to ever happen to her.

Part 2?

#Harry styles imagine #Harrystylesimagine #Harry styles

[m34gs]

For the OTP ask: Grimmichi 3, 9, 11, and 17!!

Thank you for the ask, friend :D From this post here

I'm going to put the answer under the cut here, just because I guess I kind of discuss spoilers for Bleach.

3. What is your favorite AU/prompt idea/trope for your pairing?

Hmmmm. This question made me think. But I would have to say my favourite for Grimmichi is slow-burn, and bonus points for enemies to lovers. I love the slow burn because something about Grimmjow's gruff demeanor and Ichigo's cool attitude just screams that they are people who need time to get to know others and feel comfortable enough around them to fully open up. And I love the enemies to lovers trope for them because in the actual anime they start as enemies, which makes for some lovely fight scenes. And I think that can be translated over into alternate universes and fanfics with some lovely sarcastic banter and make for a very fun fic.

9. Favorite aspect of them/their relationship dynamics?

It's definitely gotta be that Grimmjow is an Asshole and Ichigo is Tired of This Bullshit. :)

11. If they aren’t a canon pairing, how would you get them together?

So they aren't canon :( I would have them start to realize they have some common ground (their stubbornness, for example) and bond over a common "enemy" (Urahara being a nuisance trying to force them to help him around his shop, for instance). And then they would go for food or something. And then? It would become a habit, a ritual, something they do like once a week. And they would fall in love. And neither of them would realize it until one cancels on the other or is stopped from going (probably by the Soul Society or some sort of calamity caused by some major villain). And then the one who was stood-up bitches out the other one (in the rain of course) and lists all the things that they like about them in their emotional outburst. And the other one is just stunned. So then maybe the first one runs off. And then they don't see each other for days. Dayyyyys. DAYYYYYYS. Until they both can't take it anymore and then they are running around to all the places they can think of, looking for the other, just barely missing each other, being given directions from friends that lead them to where the other was just five minutes ago, but they're no longer there, and THEN...

...as they are running to their next location, they see each other in the distance. And they freeze. It's dusk. The sun is setting. The horizon is painted in golds and reds and oranges. And they approach each other, slowly, each one going over his own apology in his head, trying to think of what to say, but when they're inches apart, staring into each other's eyes, they are speechless. And one asks 'can I kiss you' and the other one can't even form words, so he nods.

And then. They kiss.

17. Are they relatable as characters or as a pairing?

So, the answer to me is both.

Grimmjow- this guy is cold in the anime, even cruel (he shoves his hand through Rukia in front of Ichigo, and brings Orihime to where he's fighting Ichigo in Las Noches to get a rise out of both of them). He has anger issues and his rage is poorly controlled. The part of him I find relatable is the fact that he is very immature. He lets his bad emotions out in acts like bursting through a wall or fighting. But when he is getting what he wants, he is very smug and flaunts it. These are the ugly feelings that every person has, and most people have acted immaturely in some way or another in their life. This is why I think he's relatable in that regard.

Ichigo - Ok, so we all know Ichigo is a Protector (TM). He wants to protect others and keep them safe, to a fault. He tries so hard to keep others protected and get stronger for their sake that he is stretching himself thin. He literally sacrifices his Shinigami powers to defeat Aizen. And I have to say I identify with those feelings a lot. I have two younger siblings. If you don't think that I haven't tried to shield them from so many painful things, well you'd be wrong. So I find him very relatable.

Grimmichi- ok, the pairing GrimmIchi is Gruff Egotistical Brute Who Wants to be the Strongest and Protective Idiot who Doesn't Know When to Stop. I am not in a relationship. However, we have established I am protective af. And what do I look for in almost every potential partner? What makes me think someone is amazing and highly attractive? Aside from intelligence (I will not be debating Light Yagami being on my list of Characters I Am in Love With) it is STRENGTH. Like. Any man, woman, nonbinary, or genderfluid person who just...is so strong? I find very attractive. (It's not the only thing I find attractive, but it is high on the list. Also, please note that physical strength does not have to do with appearance. Plus-sized people can be very very strong :D)

#asks #OTP asks #Bleach #Grimmichi #Kimium #friends #Bleach spoilers #kind of

[peachyteabuck]

clear the clouds (bucky barnes x reader)

summary: after weeks of bucky feels down, natasha knows exactly who to call to make him feel better

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

words: 2,030

trigger warnings: sickening fluff, also - please don’t take kitten rearing advice from fanfiction

notes: this is a birthday present for the effervescent @m00nlightdelights​, who asked for bucky barnes interacting with kittens. happy birthday babe! 

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

Natasha was the one who called you – asking something many dream for but very few get to experience. It’s hard to transport that many tiny, wriggling animals across town and very few are willing to pay the exorbitant, arbitrary amount of money you had made some intern put on the website after the twentieth call asking about the particular service.

People, apparently, really want to rent a bunch of kittens for several different types of events – finals weeks at universities and rich high schools, bat and bar mitzvahs, once even a wedding. Why those event coordinators can’t rent service animals is beyond you, and why they always expect you to do these things for free is also a mystery.

No matter why those people wanted your kittens, you closed the service except for incredibly rare cases.

One of those incredibly rare cases, per the usual path of your life, involved Natasha Romanoff.

You owed her a favor from a few years back, when she made sure an ex-boyfriend of yours…well, for legal purposes you can’t talk about it, but Natasha made sure he never bothered you or your friends ever again.

Natasha’s got enough tact not to bring the year-long ordeal up – just said she wanted to “cash in” on your side of the bargain. You sighed into the office landline when she told you she was calling for her favor, the exhale so deep it was still audible despite the barking and scratching and the menagerie of other noises.

It takes you a second to collect yourself, to shove the memories back into that little box your therapist had you build and then tuck into the back of your brain.

Despite not being able to see her face, you can tell she’s frowning and has furrowed her brow. “You good?”

You nodded, then remembered how phones work. “Yeah,” you let out a small sigh. “Yeah, I’m fine. You want the kittens at Avengers Towers this weekend for a few hours to help that friend of yours-“

“Bucky,” Natasha interrupts you. “His name is Bucky. And you should go out with him.”

Despite still knowing how phone works, you roll your eyes. “Didn’t you just say he spent the last week bedridden because of depression. It doesn’t exactly sound like he’s in the right state of mind for a relationship.”

Your friend scoffs into the phone, shutting what you think is a thick book for dramatic audial effect. “And you spend fifteen hours a day at your shelter because it gives you an excuse not to see people. I don’t need you to marry him, I’m saying maybe a coffee date would be good for you.”

There’s a pause where you search for a sarcastic response, but Natasha beats you to it.

“Actually, no,” she says, voice dripping with a lovable dryness you can’t help but admire. “It will be good for both of you.”

Another pause while you recalculate your sarcastic response cortex. After a deeply silent thirty seconds, you give up.

“Fine,” you acquiesce. “But you and Wanda are helping me and you’re buying me lunch for that day and you’re helping me during adoption day at the museum next month.”

Somehow, you can hear Natasha’s wide and triumphant smile. “You got it, kid.”

And with that, you hang up before falling back in your office chair. You swear, that woman could convince you to do anything.

Fucking spies, you think before putting the event in the shelter’s e-calendar.

The day arrives both too quickly and not quickly enough – your brain caught between something akin to “existential dread” and “oh my God my friend is trying to set me up with her friend and what if it doesn’t work but what if it does” the entire week before the planned event. During the night before you down quadruple your normal dose of melatonin to fall asleep after spending three entire hours trying on all your clothes to plan the right outfit (in the end, you chose an unusually nice pair of leggings and a plan sweater along with boots cute enough to fool a man into thinking they’re fancy while still protecting your feet from the end-stage winter air outside.

(Also, the leggings and sweater are the easiest things to lint roll kitten fur off of you for, say, a date at an upscale coffee shop you normally wouldn’t even think of going to, but that’s nobody’s business and you totally one hundred percent did not think about that when trying the outfit on.)

You meet Natasha and Wanda at the shelter the next morning, you getting there before them to gather the necessary supplies from the back. Despite them promising to help you load your car with kittens and kitten-adjacent items, you still didn’t want either of them messing with the precious organization system you’d spent years perfecting (and years training interns and vet techs how to abide by it).

Luckily, with your precautions and time management – and despite Wanda’s need to kiss every kitten (yes, every kitten) as they were loaded into crates – you arrive at the infamous Stark Tower right on time.

Set up of the whole thing doesn’t take long, Natasha successfully leading the way through the maze of which is the expansive building. You pass a few people you recognize from Natasha’s stories and the news, and a few others who you don’t but still smile as they pass (whether they were just being nice or smiling at the kittens in the crates you were holding, you refused to decide).

It takes a few elevator rides, but eventually you get to the desires floor and room – Wanda knocking on the door after setting her Ikea bag of playpen supplies on the carpeted floor.

A response is nearly immediate. “Go away!” a gruff voice calls, muffled by the thick walls.

Natasha and Wanda both roll their eyes. “Shut up and open the door!” the former replies.

There’s no verbal response, but you do hear shuffling before the door opens to reveal a figure more brick house than man. His hair is messy, sweatshirt a size too large and solid black but with jeans that fit perfectly. His boots – much thicker and blacker than yours – are dirty.

“What do you want?” he grumbles.

Natasha remains unphased by the man’s demeanor. “We have kittens. Now move out of my way so we can set all this shit up and you can pet some cute animals.”

Bucky gives her a look and rolls his eyes, but steps asides and holds the door open for the three of you nonetheless.

Twenty minutes later, Bucky found in the middle of the four-foot wide pen, bewildered. He’s done a lot of things in his life, many of which would be impossible for (nearly) anyone else to accomplish. He speaks thirty languages (plus Morse code and ten variations of sign language), he’s hunted bears with his bare hands, he’s survived Russian winters and summers in the Amazon rainforest.

Yet, somehow, the thing that stunts him beyond reproach is a small play pen filled with about forty tiny, six-week old kittens that are all their own form of chaotic. Bucky doesn’t know where to look, let alone how to grab the ones that catch his eye. He’s terrified of crushing them like bug caught under a hardcover book, of breaking their tiny ribs or tiny legs or tiny necks.

He watched you intensely when you and Natasha and Wanda pulled them out of their crates, watching how you held them and which one allowed you to give them kisses and which one chased after the strands in Natasha’s ponytail. He noticed which ones curled up in small spheres in the corners of the pen, which ones immediately bopped about, which ones immediately sought out the bottle of formula you’d prepared and which ones nibbled at the liquidy wet food that had been scooped into a neon blue bowl.

Each tiny animal was different, and it amazed him.

There was this one cat, a fluffy little white one with one ear and splotches of buttery yellow seems the boldest, eyeing Bucky as if the man was this small cat’s Everest. The floral collar (one of those break-away ones, you had told him, meant to keep the kittens from getting hurt but allowing the rescuers to identify them by name and rescue identification number) has a small nameplate – a gold one – with “Squirt” etched into the metal.

“Squirt,” Bucky repeats under his breath. “Nice to meet you, little guy.”

The cat gives him a small, pterodactyl-like scream in response, as if the small animal is too young to speak in any other tone but “loud.”

“HELLO LARGE CAT,” he imagines the cat saying. “HELLO, I AM A SMALLER CAT. DO YOU WISH TO BE CLIMBED?”

Bucky smiles at the imagined conversation, allowing the brave creature to dig its tiny claws into the leg of his jeans just above his socked feet (he took off his boots when he arrived in the room, as per your request), the start to his magnificent journey.

“I do not mind being climbed,” the man answers out loud. For once, he doesn’t take in the entire room’s emotions and reactions before he says something – he just talks, even if that freedom from paranoia is only allowing him to speak to someone (or thing) that can’t talk back.

Squirt gets to Bucky’s knee before screeching once more, just as tenacious as when he was on the floor. “THIS IS MUCH HARDER THAN I EXPECTED,” is all Squirt says.

Bucky laughs, ignoring the several other kittens who are trying to claw up Bucky’s metal arm – each unsuccessful but determined to continue to try. “I’m a lot bigger than you realized, huh?”

Squirt takes a few more wobbly steps, tail high in the air, before looking to Bucky for guidance as the tiny creature stands on his thigh. “I WOULD LIKE SOME HELP, PLEASE,” Bucky interprets from the screeches.

He laughs, not moving. Another kitten, this time an equally tiny short-haired black cat named “Foosball” attempts to follow in Squirt’s literal and metaphorical footsteps, but gives up when she gets to Bucky’s knees. This, too, makes him let out a chuckle. “Don’t worry, kid. You’re doing just fine.”

You watch Bucky’s interactions with the kittens intensely – telling yourself you just need to make sure he doesn’t hurt them accidentally. In truth, he was handling them the best you’d seen anyone outside your shelter in a long time – gentle, firm, attentive. His pseudo-conversations warm your heart, and the only thing that breaks your concentration is one of the larger kittens walking up to the barrier of the pen to scream at you from inside her prison that she was hungry. Natasha and Wanda had long left, citing some bureaucratic problem that was probably bullshit but, regardless of accuracy, left you and Bucky alone.

“What does she want?” the man asks, body still frozen as Squirt climbs his chest.

“Butterfly wants to eat,” you reply while you grab one of the syringes with formula.

“Why can’t she eat from the bowl of food?” he asks. It’s not accusatory, just curious. It’s sweet, extremely so, and makes you realize that Natasha was right – this is good for him.

“At six weeks, most kittens are weened from their mothers or,” you pick Butterfly up and hold her against you as she suckles at the plastic nozzle. “In this case, syringes. But sometimes it just takes a little longer.”

Bucky hmms, turning his attention back to the kittens before he speaks again. “Do you want to get coffee?”

You swallow, looking at him look at Squirt. “Like…with you?”

Bucky nods as he sits up, the brave kitten now on his shoulder and several others vying for his attention. “I, uh,” he swallows. “Yeah. Coffee. With me. Like a, uh, a date. With me. Where we get coffee.”

You giggle a little, both at his flustered speech and at Butterfly’s post-feeding tiredness. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Cool,” is all Bucky replies, the both of you now focused back on the kittens.

Dammit, you think. Natasha was right again.

#bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes fluff #maya tag #lukis writes stuff

[meetmeatthecoda]

Okay so, I wanted to offer my two cents on that ask about Liz’s reaction in Luther Braxton: Conclusion. This is NOT meant as an attack on anyone—I find it 100% valid that the OG nonny (and anyone who related to them, including you dear Coda 💖💖💖) feels the way they do; they can’t control how they reacted to Liz any more than I can control how I reacted to that ask. Plus like, this is all fiction so no harm done? I purely wish to share my perspective, not ~present a counterargument~ or anything like that. :) Apologies in advance for how long this got. 😅😅😅

I get why you would react negatively to Liz’s screaming at Red, but I feel like?? That incident of all the times she’s treated him unjustly was (one of?) the most reasonable. Now, how she continues to act afterwards (regarding the Fulcrum but also, like, for the rest of the show welp) is 100% a continued bad decision in so many ways on her part and reflects terribly on her character, but her reaction in the immediate aftermath?? IDK, I feel the need to kind of defend her, probably because I absoluuuutely saw myself in her when she did that. I’ve (I shamefully admit) yelled, shoved, and even kicked at loved ones when they just wanted to comfort me but their attempts made me feel cornered and small. I’ve made logically unbased and ethically/emotionally unfair accusations against people who’ve done nothing but try to help me when I just needed something to get them away (literally or otherwise). When I just needed to attack something—take out my frustrations and confusion and fear and anger on someone. (And if Liz was like that, she might have latched onto Red as her target because he was the closest thing—physically, emotionally, and even in relation to the cause of that confusion and anger itself.) I have inflicted real harm on people while in an unsettling or unfamiliar mental state—harm that I couldn’t take back even when I could look back with a clear(er) mind and realize I never should have said/done any of that.

(Also, side note: when I first watched that ep and I saw Liz screaming at Red not to touch her?? I’d actually thought they were depicting her as being touch-averse due to the trauma and/or overstimulation, and I was?!! Like, call me badly coping but I appreciate seeing characters not being comfortable or straight-up being aggressive about being touched, even for just a moment, because that is me 24/7. Then of course a few more seconds and it turns out it’s not actually that?? Liz is just repulsed by Red’s Bad Guyness again apparently?? Whenever I rewatch the ep I still choose to see it as overstimulation though because, well… my heart is clearly very talented at choosing comfort characters for me. 🥲🥲🥲)

So speaking from personal experience, coming out of a trauma (or revisiting an unresolved one) is so stressful that it’s only natural to react explosively—even to the extent of unfairness and unreasonableness—in an attempt to protect or heal yourself, whether that attempt be justified or not. And honestly, I could even make the argument that for Liz, her attempt was to some extent justified. Of course Red would never hurt her, but sometimes a person needs breathing space. Like, literally needs. Maybe for the sake of her mental stability/health, Liz should have had her first moments coming up from her trance to herself. Does that make sense?? IDK if I made any sense there; I just know that while I never could have gotten to the place I’m at now without the EVENTUAL professional and personal support I’ve been blessed with, I also can’t fathom how much more mental anguish I would have experienced if I’d had people who knew me (or like, the “closest person” in Liz’s case) see me in the immediate aftermath of my trauma. Just… The state I was in? Yikes, am I glad only I saw myself pull myself together; I’d have had so much more to worry about with others seeing me like that. That might just be me and totally inapplicable to Liz of course, so I digress!

I’m not saying Liz isn’t responsible for her words/actions simply because they happened while she was in utter emotional upheaval and under mental and physical duress—Red definitely did NOT deserve that treatment from her. He did NOTHING WRONG. But with that kind of complex angst comes the inevitably mixed but nonetheless potent reactions of fans, I completely understand that. Everyone has different experiences and thus different viewpoints, and that’s fine and totally healthy in my book. Still, something about that discussion struck a chord with me—you can (and should) hold someone accountable for the harm they do while mentally unstable, but it’s possible and also healthy to do that without, yourself, harboring anger or resentment against them, you know? I had to teach myself (and those around me) that, so I guess I just wanted to put it out there. Again, I don’t mean to start anything and I’m so, so sorry if I inadvertently have. I hope it’s okay that I came here to explain my thoughts (and so wordily too, ack I’m sorry), and if not, I won’t anymore. Thank you for hearing me out this time though, I really appreciate it. :)

Dear anon!! 🤗🥰❤️ Firstly, I want to thank you for your kindness & respect for other's opinions!! This ask was worded in the sweetest, most considerate way & I appreciate it very much!! There's absolutely no need to apologize for having your own opinion & perspective, especially when you share & explain it so nicely, so never fear!! 😊❤️ Moving on to the meat of your ask - which is in regards to this previous one - you make such a good point!! When you look at it that way, the Luther Braxton Post-Memory-Unearthing Screaming Explosion is perhaps Liz's most justifiable negative reaction in the series LOL I guess looking back from where we are now - knowing all about & being completely fed up with all of Liz's awful writing & characterization in the subsequent seasons - it's easy to dismiss her reaction in Luther Braxton as something unreasonable & irritating & unfair to Red (which, to some extent - as you graciously allow - it is). But - as you generously point out - while that's a valid way of looking at it, it's also definitely worth examining from another point of view!! And I think your point of view (in everything ofc, but particularly in this) is so valuable!! I can relate at least on some level... I have definitely snapped at people, even those trying to help me, verbally & otherwise, when I lost my temper & just needed some space!! In fact, I think that's a pretty universal stress reaction & it's not necessarily something to be super ashamed of (but definitely something to be aware of & work on - a good reminder for us all!!) & it's definitely not a stretch to imagine Liz was going through something similar after being effectively water-boarded & having her memories so unceremoniously rifled through!! And, after all, Liz has one thing we generally don't... a perfect, convenient, willing catalyst for all the negative things in her life: Red (however undeserving of that title he may be.)

(And re: sidenote of touch-averse!Liz - Omg, I definitely thought about that being their angle at first too!! While I don't usually default to reacting that way myself [kind of the opposite for me usually LOL] I know that plenty of people do & it's 1000% valid as a coping mechanism & honestly??? A touch-averse Liz would be one of the more realistic reactions she's ever had 😂😭 especially considering the circumstances!! And hey, no shame about gravitating towards that interpretation bc it's 1) less painful for you & 2) you like comfort characters bc you 👏 do 👏 you 👏 but also?? I can't say anything bc the reason that I like that interpretation??? I love the angst of an overwhelmed & touch-averse!Liz unintentionally shattering Red's heart by completely rejecting his well-meaning physical comfort anddddd I'm not sure what that says about me tbh 😂😂😂)

Long story short, anon, you made perfect sense here, not to worry!! You were so respectful & cognizant of others' feelings, thank you so much for that, it doesn't go unnoticed!! You bring such a good point to the discussion with your perspective & outlook & I'm so thankful you chose to contribute!! I loved reading your thoughts & don't worry at all about the length, I appreciate your thoroughness!! (Plus, we all know I'm hardly one to talk, I never use one word when twenty will do 😂) Please don't hesitate to come back to my inbox any time to discuss whatever you like, I always love a little bit of friendly TBL conversation, especially since the show as we know it is so abruptly & unexpectedly over 😭 Yes, still grappling with that, in case you were wondering 🥲 Anyway, thank you again for your lovely ask, anon, I appreciate you greatly, & much, much love to you, of course, my friend!! ❤️

#The Blacklist #Lizzington #thoughts #speculation #theories #headcanons #Luther Braxton #mine #ask #anon #thank you for being so respectful dear anon!! #rest assured your opinion & perspective & POV are ALWAYS valued!! #and please come back anytime!! #:D #much love to you my friend!! #<3 #also lol @ me #saying last night that i'd be starting on my inbox #and then just #... #not #lmfao #sorry everyone #and this might be the only one i get to tonight as well #with nearly 30 sitting pretty in my inbox #but rest assured i WILL get to them asap!! #as soon as the stressful times in the Coda household wrap themselves up tomorrow LOL #much love y'all #<333