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tojisbbygworl · 10 months

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Before I Let Go - Yandere!Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Summary: A grieving woman comes face to face with her thought to be deceased husband and can't find it in her to care about how wrong this was. She missed him. So much.

WARNINGS: Thoughts of Suicide, Suicide Attempt

Words: 4,994

Tags: 18+, 3rd person, Angst, Emotional Smut, Desperation, Grief/Mourning, Yandere, Spying, Kidnapping, Minimal Spanish terms of endearment

author's note: hey y'all. I have another fic for you. I am so glad I finished it it's been sitting in my drafts for a minute. The yandere part of this isn't violent although there is some slight physical pain put on the reader during sex. Just a mention of choking and scratching it's not bad. It's more obsession if anything. Also, I wasn't even gonna try with the Spanish girl. The most he says is carina and hermosa and I know y'all are sick of seeing that atp. I barely even tried with the British for Hobie I'm not about to embarrass myself LMAO

I hope this makes y'all sad honestly I feel like I could have made it sadder but I'm still very happy with it. Anyway, enjoy! 🩵

AO3 version

My AO3

Masterlist

The buzzing sound of a phone call is all that can be heard in the apartment. It has been a week since the funeral, and Y/N O’Hara hasn’t said a single word. She doesn't even remember what her voice sounds like.

Miguel O'Hara was everything to her. He meant the entire world. She would do anything he asked, but he never asked for much. All he wanted was her love. She was the same with him. A perfect partnership. She felt like she was on top of the universe. And then it was taken away from her. In a fucking car crash, no less.

He was the smartest person she knew. He was the head geneticist at Alchemax after all. He wasn't a stupid driver. No. It was the other driver's fault. But what could she do about it? It was just a kid. A teenager that had just gotten their license, but hadn't taken official driving lessons; no one really drilled into them the severity of texting while driving. How could she really blame them? How could she press charges? Miguel always told her that she was too forgiving. Too understanding.

He was right. But...she also couldn't help but to think it wasn't fair. That her beautiful husband had to die from their actions, and all they had to deal with was an insane insurance increase and a fucked up car that their parents were bound to replace. She would give anything to trade consequences. Anything.

Almost two months since his death, she's been wandering around her apartment frequenting the most common places she and Miguel would cuddle in. She always had a shared blanket, one of his shirts, or a pillow that had his hair on it to squeeze and cry into. If she sprayed it with his cologne and shut her eyes really tight, she could almost imagine he really was there. Almost.

These objects could never replace him. She missed his warmth. She missed his chest pushing her head up and down from his breathing. It would rumble when he chuckled. His hands were so large that her entire back would heat up when he held her gently. He was so tall, 6'6 to be exact, he would completely engulf her whenever they embraced. She felt so safe in his arms. She doesn't feel safe anymore.

Nearly two months of hunching over on the floor of her apartment in pain. She wailed into the ground. Coughing and scratching whatever she could hold onto, because the pain was too much to bare. Oh, the pain. She wouldn't wish this kind of heartbreak on anyone or anything.

The apartment was large, courtesy of his checks. He could already afford it on his own, then, the both of them married just a few years ago and he didn't expect her to pay a dime, despite how much she insisted. Instead, she bought food and handled upkeep. If it got too expensive, then he would chip in. She would have to move out eventually, his remaining income and life insurance the only thing keeping her afloat. Just another thing that she can’t fathom.

It was 3 bed, 2 bath. One was their bedroom, the other was his office, she's been going in there a lot as well, and they always wondered what they would do with the last room. For so long, it was empty even before she moved in with him. He never knew what he could use it for. He had hoped that she would turn it into a hobby room, she loved to paint and she played the violin a little, but there was a beautiful terrace attached to the apartment that she opted for instead and she insisted the living room had the best acoustics so the room remained a mystery. Until last year, when he dropped a bomb on her.

It was an extremely average day for the both of them. They were both home from work, nothing interesting to report, and were deciding what to eat for dinner. She suggests something they could cook, and he agrees. As the night goes on, something seems off about Miguel. He's quiet and zoning out a lot. Something has to be on his mind, right?

"Babe," she calls for him snapping him out of his trance.

"Hm?"

"Everything alright?" She puts her hand on his shoulders and gives him a worried look. Miguel swallows his spit then turns towards her grabbing her hand and placing his on her waist.

"I've been thinking..." His voice is small. She starts to grow anxious as she had never seen him look so timid. He was more nervous than when he asked her to marry him.

"W-What is it?" She stutters. He kisses her knuckles.

"It's just something that I've been wanting for a while now. And if you don't, then It's completely fine. I care about your happiness above everything."

"Miguel, stop being so cryptic and tell me what's up," She half jokes.

He nervously bites his lips and looks away. Then, taking a deep breath, he looks into her eyes and says, "I want to have a kid."

She felt it was best to pretend the work-in-progress nursery didn't exist. In her mind, the room is still empty. There wasn’t a crib set up. The walls weren't in the process of being painted. They didn't have arguments about what to put on it because they didn't know the gender. In fact, gender of what? They weren't planning for a baby. The third room is as empty as she is.

The both of them were foolish, deciding to get everything set up before she got pregnant instead of winging it like everyone else. She should have winged it. Then maybe she would still have a piece of him with her.

It was so fucking hard to focus on what mattered. She was hanging on a thread that thinned out every single day. Before the funeral, she wondered what would be her breaking point? The point where she finally got up and decided to keep going.

The weather was very fitting for that day. The sun was gone, and the rain came in waves. Her tears, however, never stopped. It was a stupid decision to make it open casket. She gazed upon his resting face for the first time since he died in the hospital then turned and ran to the nearest bathroom to empty her stomach. She hadn’t even gotten to say her speech; Miguel’s mother read for her instead.

Something inside her snapped. Sometimes the pain is a dull ache in her chest, and she’s numb everywhere else. Other times it’s a sharp twang that she can feel in her back. She has to lay or sit down when that happens. Sometimes it courses through her entire upper body and she can’t even move. But this…this stabbing, twisting, and searing pain that ripples through her heart and travels to the tip of her fingers and toes…she hasn’t felt this before.

This was the breaking point, but it did the opposite. She didn’t talk for the rest of the day, her and his family begging her to stay with them. She didn’t listen.

It was nights like tonight that she felt completely alone. She knew she wasn’t, if she just picked up the phone and texted someone, then maybe she would be okay. She just needed to stop looking at the ceiling, turn to her nightstand, pick up her phone, and call her mother. But it was 1 in the morning, and Miguel looked so happy in her lock screen picture…

Her and Miguel had been up here on the top of the apartment building so many times before. They liked to dance, he would watch her play or paint, they had picnics together, it was perfect when they wanted to get out of the apartment, but still have some privacy.

The view was nice. They could see across the entirety of Nueva York. Central Park in the fall was especially amazing to gaze upon. But now it fills her with grief. As she steps on top of the edge, she decides that if this couldn’t make her feel better, then nothing could.

She’s glad she’s doing this in the middle of the night, where no one could see her and call for help. She was sure that she would traumatize a couple people when morning came, a problem that she couldn’t be bothered by. She was ready to be back in his arms. So she walked off. And closed her eyes as she plummeted through the air.

She’s scared. But excited. She only has to feel excruciating pain for a second and then never again. It’s almost over.

She hits something, or more so, something hits her. She’s still flying through the air, but it’s different now. There’s a warm body holding onto her for dear life, and she’s soaring upwards into the night sky. Opening her eyes to gaze at her savior, she sees a masked silhouette. It-it’s Spider-Man…but he looks completely different. She can barely see him, the only source of light being the moon, but she could swear that this wasn’t his mask.

They land on the rooftop again and he puts her down. She crawls away from him, embarrassed and ashamed at what she’s done. She was still alive and now she was in more pain than ever before. Wailing on the floor, she glared up at him in vitriol.

“Why did you save me?” She yelled, her voice powerful for a woman who hadn’t been verbal for a week. Spider-Man didn’t answer. She wasn’t even sure if he was looking at her. “I didn’t want to be saved.” Still, he said nothing. So she continued to cry, and she cried harder and harder until she felt a sensation on her back.

He was trying to comfort her, but when she turned he backed off, holding his hands up instead. Her lips quivered, then she threw herself into his arms. His hold on her body was snug and comforting. Her anger for him dissipates immediately as she accepts his affection. For the first time in a while, she felt safe. She didn’t want him to let go.

And he didn’t. He stayed until she fell asleep in his arms. Then, he picked her up, gazing upon her peaceful face with the light from the inter dimensional portal, then walked into it with no intention of coming back.

This wasn’t her room.

She sat up in the bed and took in her surroundings. These weren’t her sheets, that wasn’t her wallpaper, the blinds were different, the floor wasn’t carpeted, everything even the floor plan of the room was different. This isn’t her home.

Her heart begins to pound. Where was she? She was still in her clothes, but that’s the only comfort that she had. Immediately, she shoots out of the bed, the comforter tangling in her feet making her fall onto the floor. The large thump that her fall makes scares her. She stays on the floor, still and quiet as a mouse. There's no noise for a couple seconds. Then, the sound of someone walking.

She hyperventilates, quickly removing herself from the blanket and standing up. But she realizes that she has no where to go. There's a small closet in the room, and space under the bed, but those the only hiding spaces she can think of. And the footsteps were getting closer. What can she do, she wonders as she backs into the wall.

The door swings open. And her heart stops.

Miguel stared at his wife's variant in concern and turns on the light. The woman blinks and shields her eyes, but the bewildered look that she sported quickly comes back. "What happened?"

When he spoke, she gasped and took another step back. She smacked her hand over her mouth. Her eyes glistened with tears, her breath shuddered. "You're alright?" Miguel asked her again. She didn't answer.

For what felt like the longest time, they just stared at each other. He was afraid of approaching her thinking he may scare her away. She was in completely disbelief at what she was seeing. Miguel raised his hands and stayed near the door way. "Please, don't freak out," he began.

She let out a sob, tears escaping her eyes when she did. Placing her hand on her chest, she lifts herself from the wall. Miguel takes this as a sign to keep going.

"I know you must be confused. You're probably upset and angry. I understand." She took a step forward. "But if you would just left me explain..." Another step. Then another. And another. And she held her hand out in front of her. As she approached him, he realized how badly she was trembling, and it only got worse the closer she got. But still, she moved forward.

The speech Miguel had been practicing before she woke up died in his throat. He was speechless as he watched her courageously close the space between them. When she finally stood right in front of him, she hesitated. He could hear her soft gasps and cries. Then finally, she softly touched his chest. He looked down at her hand, then up at her face. Even though she was crying profusely, she looked upon him in wonder. He just wants to reach out and grab her, but he holds himself back.

She begins to rub his chest and torso, appalled by his presence. He looks back down at her hands. Then, they trail themselves up to his neck, stopping right under his chin. He lifts his head up. They both hold their breath for a second. Then, with a gasp from her, and a sigh from him, she finally touches his cheek. Miguel closes his eyes and leans into her palm. He lifts his arm up, and encases her hand in his, keeping it in place.

Her lips begin to move. With a tiny shaky breath, she whispers, "It's you."

Miguel's face is troubled. He has a small frown and his eyebrows were upturned. He twists his head in her palm to give it a small kiss.

Her eyes flicker all over his body. It is him...but he's different. He's taller now. His build is thicker and he feels tense. Miguel was a gym buff, but this man...this kind of definition is not built in the gym. His frown is deep, and so are his wrinkles. His eyes were more troubled than hers, and had the slightest hint of red. And his teeth...she could feel his sharp canines with her thumb.

"No," she realizes. "It's not you."

Miguel opens his eyes and stares at her. He can see the fear growing on her face, and he starts to panic. He moves his hand to her wrist to hold it gently. But he's prepared to squeeze it if she tries to run. "I'm not him. But-"

"But you look like him." She continues, her voice on the precipice of hysteria. "And you sound like him." She holds both of his cheeks and caresses his face with her thumbs. "And you feel like him..."

Miguel winces as he watches her cry louder and louder with every observation. "Cariña, please," He takes her hands off of his face and kisses her knuckles. She completely breaks down crying. Miguel reaches his arms out, and she throws herself into his chest, sobbing into his neck. "You don't have to cry anymore. I'm here now."

"But who are you?" Her voice muffled by his shoulder.

He gulps. "...I am Miguel, but-"

"But you're not my Miguel, are you?" She lifts her head up to stare at him. She looked anguished, her brain not being able to process what was going on. He doesn't answer. "Did you save me?" He nodded. "Why?"

"I had to, baby. I-"

"Where did you come from?" She pushes herself off of him, and Miguel can't find it in him to hold her there. He let's go of her, knowing that there is no where she can really run where he won't find her. "No, where have you been?"

He furrows his brows and tilts his head. "What?"

"Where the hell have you been?" She screams at him in unbridled rage. Her tears were never ending, and her glare was fierce. "I was in fucking agony when you died. I couldn't live with myself. I couldn't get over you. I didn't want to. I missed you so much." Her anger turned into desperation and she falls to her knees on the floor, weeping into her hands. Miguel looks on in desolation, his eyes filling with tears as well. He walks to her and leans down, trying to get her to stand. She flips her head up at him. "Who are you?"

"Please, let me explain." He sits on the floor with her, holds her face and leans into it. She doesn't pull away, instead, she kisses him first, her cries never ending. Her hands tangle themselves in his hair. Miguel wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her into him. He sits back and pulls her into his lap.

The kiss lasts until they run out of breath, then they pull away, panting in each others' faces. "I...am Miguel." He starts. "But not your Miguel. And you are not my Y/N."

She shakes her head and scrunches up her face. "Just listen." Her mouth closes again, and she relaxes preparing herself to take in every word he says...

...Miguel spent a lot of time watching her. His Y/N, across the multiverse. In each one, they are together. It's fate. And in every one...she dies. No matter what that universe's Miguel does, she dies. That must be fate, too. Then he found a universe where that didn't happen. He died instead. He took a chance, and when he replaced himself he was the happiest he had ever been. And then everything was destroyed. An entire universe...gone. He swore to never interfere with fate again. He whispered a soft 'sorry' to every Miguel he found after that.

He saw her, Y/N on Earth - 548. Happy as ever with her devilishly handsome husband. He felt for him. He had no idea the heartbreak he was about to experience. But, for the second time in his studies, he was the one who died. He cried, knowing that he could never do anything about it. When she became a shell of her former self, he focused all of his attention on her. Putting all of his work on Jess and Peter, he monitored her. He watched her cry, she spent all of her time off from work at home rolling around in her bed as if the emotional pain was so strong that it was physical as well. He watched her touch herself at night, whispering his name into the empty air, him joining her from where he was spying groaning her name as well, wishing his cum was dripping from her cunt instead of down his hand. He called for her, hoping that his prayers to keep her safe would reach who ever was listening. They didn't.

He knew that when she sat up like a ghost from her bed that fateful night, she was about to do something rash. He held his hand over his watch, ready to jump as soon as he felt he needed to. When she began to walk to the edge, he decided to not even risk it and hopped into the portal.

He didn't expect her to turn and scream at him the way she did. He hadn't heard her beautiful voice for some time, he missed it so much, and the first thing she did was yell at him. He was stunned. He couldn't believe she was right in front of him. He looked at his watch. No indication of a canon event. There was nothing. Which meant...she was never supposed to die.

He was impulsive, he knows that. But, it worked out in his favor. She was supposed to be alive. He had done right. And now he had a decision to make. Does he leave her here to figure everything out on her own, or does he take her with him...and let her family think she's dead…

“You were watching me?”

Miguel refuses to meet her eyes. She didn’t move, but he tightened his grip around her just in case. Her voice was wavering.

When he didn’t answer, she continued. “Why didn’t you save him?”

He looked up at her that time. Above everything else, she was melancholy. “I couldn’t.”

“Why?”

“I just couldn’t, mi amor. You don’t understand.”

With her face contorted in pain, she released a choked sob. Her mouth was hung open. If she chose to believe this imposter, than hearing that nothing could have been done about the love of her life brought her no comfort. It wasn’t fair.

She gripped Miguel’s shirt letting her head fall forward into his chest. He held her for a long time while her shoulders shook. “Please, believe me.”

She doesn’t say anything, but her cries stopped. He began to worry, but she soon lifted her head up and looked into his eyes. His flicked back and forth between hers, and the both of them dive into another passionate kiss. This time, they don’t let up from each other. It gets more intense. Miguel’s breath picks up as his hands begin to explore her back and waist. She pushes her body up against his, rubbing their chests together.

She’s the one who pulls away opting to kiss down from his cheek to his neck. “Just come to bed with me. Please?” She begs into his skin.

Miguel, in a daze, whispers “Okay.”

He lifts her up and lays her down onto his bed, kissing her sweetly as he climbed on top of her. He felt so much bliss, he never imagined he would be able to do this again.

The way she grabbed his face made him never want to physically leave her side again. This was where he wanted to stay for the rest of their lives. She kissed him with so much despair, so much need, how could he ever leave her mouth? But, the strain in his pants and the grip she had on his back get worse, and he finds a reason to pull away.

She whimpers, missing the way his tongue caressed her mouth, leaving her lips swollen and shiny. Her eyes open, silently asking him where he was going, until he reached under the hem of her shirt and lifts it off of her, exposing her beautiful breasts. She gasps when he begins to rub his hand between them, eventually grabbing one to hold and play with. Miguel grins at her while she watches him rub his thumb across her hardened nipple. Which turned into her watching him dip his head down to her sternum and leave the smallest, lightest kiss.

The restraint he had on himself as he trailed his mouth down her body was unnatural. His claws had long since come out, ripping into the bedsheets as he tried so hard not replace them with her luscious hips. She was responding unbelievably well, making him happy he didn’t listen to Lyla tell him how terrible of an idea this was.

Lyla was wrong, he told himself when he heard her soft cry as his tongue played with her nipple. She began to squirm from frustration, and he just had to push his hips in between her open legs, the heat from his dick making her rub her wet panties along his shaft. Miguel moaned with her nipple fully inside his mouth, her moaning with him from the vibration against her chest.

She’s not scared of me, he thought as he leaves her nipple and kisses down her body. His lips finally met up with her panties, opting to push them to the side instead of taking them off completely. He places a kiss on her sensitive clit, his precum staining his underwear when she yelps. Miguel takes a moment to look at her glistening pussy, then he closes his eyes when he finally licks it.

And she doesn’t hate me. Miguel looks drunk when he starts eating her out. His eyebrows are raised and he gently placed her hand on her spread thigh, caressing the soft skin. Her whines making him even more desperate to please her, he presses his tongue into her center harder. His lips are covered with her fluid. Miguel gives her thigh a nice squeeze, then a slap, then he stands up straight.

When she opens her eyes to look at him, her heart races. His eyelids were low, and he towered over body making her feel smaller than she was. His stare was filled with infatuation, wiping off his lower face with one swipe of his large hand. Without breaking eye contact, he rips his shirt off and swipes his pants and underwear down, his large member bouncing back up. Miguel spit into his palm and started jerking himself off. Then, he climbs onto the bed, aligning his hips with hers.

He drools onto her pussy, her shuddering as his spit meets her clit and runs down her lips. It does well to lube her up with Miguel rubbing his tip in between her folds. “Ngh…fuck,” he mutters, the feeling of her wet cunt on his sensitive head giving him a feeling of euphoria.

She grew impatient, while Miguel was trying to take his time and savor her, she was ready to feel him split her apart. This was something she’s been dreaming about since she lost him. She waited for the day his naked body would engulf hers, his face on her cheek whispering filthy insults and sweet praises into her ear. As she remembers how sex used to be with her love, she starts to tear up.

“Miguel,” she whined making him look at her worriedly. When his eyes open, the red she noticed before is even more prominent. His mouth was opened slightly so she could barely see his fangs. How he could look so similar yet so different from her Miguel, she doesn’t know.

“Yes?” He asks her.

“Please, I can’t wait any longer. I want…” She moves her hips on him again. Miguel looks down at their hips and holds hers still.

He doesn’t respond, just pushes his length into her slowly. He grunts as he sheathes himself inside her warmth, reveling in her cries. “Shit, baby.” She’s tight and squeezing him so nicely, he can’t stop until he's inside of her fully.

She’s breathing heavily with her head thrown back and her eyes closed. Her back is arched lifting her naked chest into the air. “Look at me,” Miguel commands. She lifts her head up giving him what he wanted. Her eyes are filled with tears. It hurts, but feels so good. She missed him so much, and now they were one again.

Miguel whimpers at her beautiful face. “Hermosa,” he reaches out to her cheek to hold it. “Don’t cry.”

“But I love you,” she tells him.

He gasps. His hand lifts from her face. Freezing, he stares into her eyes in disbelief. “W-What?”

She takes his hand and brings it to her lips, leaving a gentle smooch. Her eyes close and the tears fall. “I love you, Miguel.”

His eyesight gets blurry as well, and soon Miguel is crying profusely. “Oh, baby,” he leans over her and pulls his hips backwards. Then he slams himself back down, making her yelp. She grabs his face and kisses him. “I love you too.”

As Miguel fucks her slowly, neither of them can find it in them to stay quiet. Miguel has to tell her how terribly in love with her he is. She has to let him know how much she missed him. He leans into her neck and whispers how he missed her too, and to stop crying because he’s here now. Even though, he can’t stop crying either.

She’s so happy to hear that he will never leave her side. She decides to believe him, accepting happiness instead of reality. She ignores his red eyes, his sharp fangs that press against her neck, as if he can barely hold himself back from biting her. She ignores how different the rumbling in his chest is from her Miguel. It’s not soft or sweet nor does it make her content. This one is predatory and dangerous, it makes her nervous.

She dismisses the way he grabs her neck; tight, leaving her with no air, whereas her Miguel knew that she didn’t like it rough. Honestly, neither did he. This Miguel went faster and harder. He grunted into her ear. But, she doesn't care.

She completely ignores how different this Miguel was. Her wishes were answered. She got him back. It doesn’t matter that his hold on her hip was so strong that he’s scratching her. That he didn’t stop or slow down when she came making her overstimulated. She let him cum inside her soon after, knowing that she wasn’t on anything.

“I miss you so fucking much,” she wailed when he slipped his dick out of her, his cum following suit and staining the bed beneath her.

Instead of getting a warm towel, Miguel laid down next to her and pulled her into his arms silencing her cries. “I told you baby, I’m right here.” But she doesn’t correct herself. She doesn’t calm down. She grips him for dear life and Miguel grows nervous.

Lyla was wrong…right?

“You know she will never love you the way she loved him. It will never be the same. Miguel...are you listening?”

“Lyla…shut down.”

ending a/n: Heyyyyy, did y'all like it? This will definitely not be my only Miguel fic but rn I don't really have any ideas for him. My brain is filled with thoughts of Hobie, and I need to stop neglecting my baby daddy Toji, lmao. So I'll be working on a real quick Hobie imagine and my AO3 stories as well for now. Unless I think of something else. I've been thinking about requests but I will fuck around and make a whole story from it cuz idk how to stop writing so damn much. Y'all I rly dk if I want to make another part to JFTN I rly like how it ended and I can't rly think about how I would continue it. Y'all might just have to deal idk girl. I love ya though! Anyway, I'll see y'all in the next story!🩵

AO3 version

My AO3

Masterlist

#across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spider man 2099 smut #yandere #yandere miguel o'hara #yandere miguel x reader

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shortpplfedup · 1 year

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Chapter 5: Wrong You in the Right Time

I feel like I say this every time, but what an episode. Revelatory in more ways than one, as we learn the story of Wen and Alan, Wen discovers that Li Ming is basically dating, and Heart's parents find out that Heart being deaf doesn't rule out teenage rebellion as a normal part of life. I ended up feeling really sorry for a lot of characters I haven't felt positively about up until now, the power of a good story!

Six years. Wen and Alan spent six years together, slowly souring. And when Wen at least got up to the point when he knew it was over, he still couldn't really end it. Man, staying in a post-breakup quasi-relationship because you still have a glimmer of hope is SO RELATABLE. When you feel like you've failed, the chance of redemption is awfully enticing. Plus, It's not so easy to untangle from somebody after six years together, even when you know the love has gone. Wen dithering for more than a year after the breakup, latching onto Alan's insistence that they can be friends, can still live together, out of guilt or grief or lack of momentum or whatever has been animating him, OOF. It's one thing to fall out of love, but that's why a clean break is always recommended. It's not fair to either party to enter this liminal space. A breakup of a long-term relationship is like a death; you need to mourn, you need to grieve. And you can't do that if you haven't laid things to rest. Maybe Wen wasn't technically cheating with Jim, but he was keeping one foot in both worlds, and that wasn't fair to either Jim or Alan. Him finally ending things properly with Alan, and leaving that condo felt like Wen growing up. Landing on Jim's doorstep though, and Jim taking him in...well we'll see.

I think the fact that there was no specific inciting incident for Wen and Alan and that things just went south over time is so instructive regarding how Wen views love vs. Jim. For Wen, you grab love where you find it and worry about the rest later. For Jim, it has to be right and things have to be clear, it can't be messy. When Jim said heartbreak in your twenties is different from heartbreak nearing forty, I'm here from the other side of 40 to tell you he is absolutely correct. Wen's 'If it doesn't hurt, it's not love' is such a young person's take, let me tell you. Not that every young person feels like that, simply that when you're young, your ability to bounce back from the hurt is so much stronger. When you get your heart broken in your thirties, you feel exhausted, like you just don't have it in you to try again. Easier to just enjoy the life you've built and close up shop, so to speak. Sex is still on the menu but it would take an extraordinary person coming into your life to make you want to get into a relationship again. Love is harder as you get older, that rings true to me at least, and you're warier of people who want to come into your life in that way.

From the time Heart and Li Ming started sneaking out, it was clear that something was going to go wrong eventually, that his parents would find out, and that everything was going to blow up. But this is actually good, this was necessary. Heart has been rotting in that house, turning everything inward, because his parents couldn't understand him even if he bothered to speak, and if they could they wouldn't listen. Watching Jintana helplessly turn to Li Ming pleading for him to tell her what Heart was saying HURT. I think in that moment she finally realises what she's done, how she and Supoch failed Heart. The timing of Heart losing his hearing is so interesting, because it lines up with those years when kids are becoming independent young adults and parents are supposed to be learning how to balance that burgeoning independence with their kids' safety and well-being. That all got stunted with Heart, it's like to his parents he didn't just go deaf he also stopped growing up. They infantilised him, they thought, to protect him, but all it caused was resentment and rebellion. And then on top of that, to not even learn his primary method of communication; you could see how it hit Jintana that Li Ming could talk to Heart and understand him when she just...couldn't. Jintana and Supoch suddenly realised what their family looked like from the outside. When Li Ming went after Heart, nobody tried to stop him, and that spoke volumes to me.

God this SHOW!

Side Dishes

Next episode looks like Jim realises the nature of Heart and Li Ming's relationship and I'm so ready to get into this! Whether Jim knows Li Ming is gay and how he feels about it has been probably the number one simmering pot of this story for me.

Li Ming basically intimating to Jim that he's cool with Wen if Jim wants to pursue that was really cute. The independent big-brother relationship he's built with Wen has been really lovely.

Similarly, Wen instantly recognising that Heart is more than just a friend to Li Ming, and just smiling watching them being cute kids in love was fun.

Li Ming getting Heart a job 🤣😭 my feels!

That moment in the middle of the argument at Heart's house when Heart turns to Li Ming to ask him what's going on because everybody is talking around him and nobody is talking to him was just...ugh.

This past year I've watched First play slutty, and I've watched First play repressed, and now I've now watched First play bitchy, and he's nailed every single one.

#moonlight chicken #midnight series: moonlight chicken #the moon is beautiful tonight #bl meta series

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helsingvania · 4 months

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Looks around, no one is talking about ahsoka so I think it's a relevant time to be unhinged.

I'm not mad or upset with how ahsoka turned out, I'm disappointed.

I had low expectations going into it, we all did. But the first two episodes genuinely did drew me into the storyline. I don't care about ahsoka herself but the lore expansion, seeing the spectres again, and much of the overarching mystery just drew me in. Baylan and his more reserved, logical, and lawful nature. Even though it hate it, the myths around a new galaxy and the stories told by the Jedi and how it was just merely a fairytale tantalized me.

And this is where the show went down hill for me personally. It's a very you can't have your cake and eat it too, you can't have the grounded orders are orders storyline with the new Republic and the mystical fairytale story of traveling to a lost land to recover a hero banished with his enemy.

Both of them feel disjointed to me and if I had to choose one I would go for bringing whimsy back into star wars because I LOVE that stuff. There is a world where both elements can totally work, but based on the writing of the show alone it can only be one. And even without getting into characters, the Identity of this show is so confused. It doesn't want to know what it wants to be and will change scene to scene.

Is it a voyage into the unknown? Is it a traveling loner samurai story with a society that aged passed them? Is it a critique of bureaucracy and the failure of removing fascism? It's all of them, and yet none of them because none of them build on each other or even interact with each other. It's quite literally one scene its this theme, and the next is this theme. Neither them are expanded upon or even more forwards passed the 'this is bad' stage.

Hell Anakin's episode was only good because it only expanded a bit on Anakin, his relationship with ahsoka, and gaining a new prospective. It didn't do shit as far as meaning or anything. I think it was going for a: I didn't teach you to lay down and die. Type beat but it was so convoluted and filled with remember this from the show that it missed the fact it should've had a point. Like wow thanks filoni! You gave us solid evidence that Anakin will always be Vader and Vader will always be Anakin, and that both he and ahsoka were literally kids in war and he was trying to ensure her safety and life, and now the mortis arc has come back and reared it's head again and now he's chilling in the various realms of the force.

BUT IT LITERALLY DID NOTHING TO DIRECT FORWARDS THE SHOW OUTSIDE OF AHSOKA IS NOW BACK TO BEING A LITTLE SHIT AGAIN

How would I have done it? EASY!

A melancholic tale about realizing the world around you has shifted and coming to terms with everything that has happened to you. Between learning of what Anakin has become, the events of the rebellion and the clone wars, the fall of the Jedi and everything you thought you knew. Even realizing you have been doing nothing but walking forwards until you are finally dead.

Ahsoka acting more like Anakin as a coping mechanism since she couldn't do anything to help or save him. Running hither and yonder foolhardy and recklessly hoping that finally this fight will finally kill her. But they don't so she just continues on with her idea of what her duty is and what she's fighting for. Eventually, she does die and is met with Anakin, Anakin reinforces that he's always been like this and maybe don't take after him as much. And the lessons she taught her weren't just for survival, but doing what you did believe what was right despite the outcomes. This realization breathes new life into her (literally) and comes back and understands the fight all over again. And continuing her mission.

I don't think any of the spectres need much development compared to...the literal title character. Much of what they needed occurred back in rebels, Sabine owning up to her time in mandalore and making it right, Hera's own bravery and mourning Kanan. I still love the idea that Sabine is disaster lineage just so she can wield a lightsaber, but you didn't need to make her FORCE SENSITIVE HOLY SHIT. In fact I think Sabine being the more mature on here would've worked, yeah she acts young but she puts ahsoka in her place.

Baylan and Ezra were perfect. Ezra hasn't changed and still has his charisma and cheek while baylan is a very interesting villain based upon his past and motivations. I would've loved to have thrawn a little more subtle in place of his big introduction give the normies a FUCKING REASON TO FEAR HIM.

Final thing, you guys are cowards for not referencing heir to the empire.

#star wars #ahsoka spoilers #star wars ahsoka #ahsoka #ahsoka series

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romanarose · 1 year

Text

Seattle: Part 4

Marc Spector X Fem!Jewish!OC

Seattle Masterlist

Part 3 : Part 5

Summary: Marc takes Rebecca to meet his friends, who will help with the divorce. Marc thinks back on the ways she saved him, and your younger brother

A/N: This is literally terrible. I needed a chapter between the last one and what comes next and I really thought I could do better but it's like pulling teeth. The flashbacks have no theme, there's no overarching elements, no story. The writing is dry and lack of description. I hate this. But I hope you at least enjoyed our guest stars.

WARNINGS: Usuals for this fic, domestic violence, child abuse. We're talking more about Jack so gonna throw in manipulation and isolation. Also, talk of miscarriage and rape. Just a warning for how the law does not always consider condom tampering rape, but it fucking is. I will block anyone who wants to argue. Same if someone says they are on birth control but aren't, or says they recently had an STD test but haven't anything happening outside of the agreed upon terms is rape. Anyway, lmk if I missed anything.

Note: Kaddish is the part in shabbat services where anyone who is mourning, stands. Purim is a Jewish holiday celebrating the story of Esther, where people traditionally wear costumes.

Italics are marc, bold is steven.

*********

“Thanks dad, I’ll talk to her when she’s up.” Marc had stepped into the hall while Rebecca slept, calling his dad to ask how to help her with the miscarriage, per her request. Elias, as always, was kind and sympathetic as Marc filled him in on the basic details of how she came to move in with him. Elias mentioned no one really hears from her dad much, he’s not at temple save for a few High Holy days, when he pretends like he’s getting his life together, or when Rebecca’s brother, Asa, is in town and Asa drags him to services.

‘Tell her I say hi, and that I’m praying for her’

“I will”

Marc hung up after saying goodbye, taking a breather. Talking to his dad was getting easier, but it could still bring out difficult memories, especially with their conversation today focusing on judaism. Elias didn’t ask him if he was going to Purim, he didn’t pry, just gave the information Rebecca needed, and expressed his relief she was safe. He had said something about Marc being a good man for taking her in, but Marc didn’t feel like he was a good person for this. This wasn’t an act of service, he didn’t even feel like this was duty, as much as he felt indebted to her. He didn’t have to think about it, any of it. This was simply how they were. Always.

. Rebecca had made her way in life, as Marc knew she could, getting her masters despite teetering on the edge of homelessness some days. Despite couch surfing, rent in dangerous neighborhoods and working full time in grad school, she had gotten her masters in social work as spent hour after hour trying to make sure no kids were in the position she and Marc had been in, and that parents got the help they needed to support their families. She worked hard, and would sometimes call Marc out of the blue to cry, ask his advice, or simply ask him to distract her. She was well suited for it too. Rebecca never took hell from anyone, and could not be intimidated, no matter what parents tried. She wasn’t afraid of anyone, no matter what she saw in that field. And Jesus, she saw a lot.

When she called him one day, initially acting like it was a regular call she’d make on any given day to check in or chat, she casually mentioned she met someone and Marc suspected that was the real reason she called. Marc should’ve said something there, should've jumped in while the relationship was new, before Jack had her wrapped around his finger, before he could hurt her. But he didn’t. He’d meet Layla a few months later, and despite everything, Marc could never find it in himself to regret that part. Layla had been such an important part of his life, especially during the years where he might not hear from Rebecca for months, Layla was there. But still, he couldn’t help wonder what might have been if Marc had simply told Rebecca how he felt. But he was a coward. And he remained a coward as she told him about the guy.

“His name is Jack, and he’s so sweet! We met because I forgot my card at home and I didn’t realize until I went to pay at the coffee shop, and he paid for mine!” I’ve seen him almost every night this week.”

“What does he do for work?” Marc asked, ever practical.

“He’s in finance, makes a lot of money, one of those rich kids, you know? I’m actually meeting his parents this Saturday, isn’t that exciting? We haven't been dating long and he already wants us to meet! I gotta get a new dress, something to impress his rich ass parents.” That had been the start. She didn’t just buy a nice dress. You bought a name brand. The first thing she had done to change herself for him. The dress wasn’t even her style

“Yeah Beccs, he sounds great. Text me how meeting his parents goes, I hope they are nice” Marc tried so, so hard to sound excited for her. It wasn’t that he wanted it to go poorly, and he certainly never wanted what Jack ended up being. He genuinely wanted her to be happy, with or without him… But he couldn’t help the tinge of jealousy, wishing so badly it was him.

Wearing his Nirvana shirt and a pair of jeans Marc brought from her apartment, she looked significantly more like herself as she got ready to go meet the lawyer Marc had gotten for her.

“Marc, honey, do you have any sunscreen?”

Marc laughed “No, no I don’t have any sunscreen. I haven't worn it since you’d force it on me at the beach.”

She nudged him “Just because you have darker skin doesn’t mean you don’t need sunscreen, Marc” Rebecca said with a smile.

Marc couldn’t shake a bad feeling in his gut, something telling him to keep going. He always trusted his gut, he wasn’t stopping now. “I used to be a lot less dark than you…” He commented on her paler complexion, the beautiful skin he knew from before having given way to a lighter color.

Noticeably, her demeanor changes. “Seattle isn’t exactly known for its sun, sweetheart.” Rebecca tries to hide her discomfort with the conversation’s direction with a nickname. It almost worked, Marc’s brain always got a little fuzzy when she called him sweetheart, because who else but her thought he was sweet?

But Marc wasn’t backing down. “It’s cloudy out right now, why would you need sunscreen?”

She shrugged, all too casually. “Just a habit I got into, protect my skin”

Marc couldn’t help the sardonic laugh that escaped him. “Protect it from what? You get sunshine there once a year at best.”

Her face set in determination, and Marc couldn’t help but be proud of her. She still had fight in her, she wasn’t completely gone. Dark eyes challenging, she countered him. “You still need sunscreen with overcast, Marc,”

Then it clicked. Her hair was lightened and straight, her skin washed out, traces of her ethnicity stripped away. “Oh my god. He wanted you to look less Jewish”

A deep flush took hold of her face and she dodged his eyes, grabbing her purse and storming towards the door. “Let’s go.”

Marc wasn’t resenting as he hurried after her. “Jesus Beccs, what the fuck did he do to you? You loved being Jewish, you were always so fucking proud.”

“Drop it, Spector” Rebecca opened the door and power walked out of the apartment.

He didn’t even stop to lock his apartment, but he was pretty sure he made his neighbors nervous enough that no one would try anything. He continued after her, not sure how far she thought she’d go when she didn’t know where she was going. “What’s next, Becca?” She was taller than him, not by much but longer legs, so he had to give a little extra effort to keep up. “Gonna wear blue contacts? Gonna be his perfect white, anglican, protestant housewife?”

She spun around so fast, Marc ran into her, and she pushed him into the wall. “Stop!” She shouted, eyes wide with anger. “Don’t you think I’m embarrassed enough!” Watching Marc’s face wince just a bit at her shouting, she took her hands off him and stepped back, but her mouth just kept moving. “I’m humiliated Marc! I was so fucking sick and tired of needing you to rescue me when we were young, constantly, constantly needing you and I was so, so proud of where my life was! I was secure, I had a good life in Chicago and I made it, because of you, but I continued without you because you left! You left me, and it’s fine, and you needed to and I get it but you left, and I figured things out on my own”

Marc watched as she broke, eyes falling down as she continued venting out her frustration of the last few… years? Decades?

“And things were good, and I was good, and I was happy and I FUCKING RUINED IT, because I let myself get swept up, I let myself get taken over, and controlled, and changed and I watched it happen, I watched it happen, Marc, and I knew damn well what was happening and I didn’t stop it! And now you have to rescue me again, and I’m once again dependent on you and that’s exactly what got me her in the first place!” She finished, shouting loud enough he was sure people could hear, but all he could focus on was her confession.

“What do you-”

“I LOVED YOU, MARC!” Rebecca let out a growl in frustration, angry at herself for letting it slip, but unable to stop the word vomit from spilling. “I loved you, and no one else has ever been you, no one else ever could be you. I didn’t deserve you so I just settled. And in some ways, early on, he reminded me of you” The tears streamed down her pretty face as she spoke, calmer now but still high emotion. “He insisted on buying everything, he took care of me, took care of things, just like you did but it was. It was different. You did it because we were friends. He did it because he wanted to control me, but it worked. It worked and just as I broke out of needing you, I went right back into needing him, until I was so emotionally and financially dependent, he was all I had left.” A sob choked out at the last few words.

“You had me…” He whispered, but she shook her head.

“No, because he took that too. He got me so twisted, he would get in my head. He would make me feel like, like you were the one trying to control me, like you were just playing with me, and Marc I’m sorry, I’m sorry I believed him” Rebecca covered her face as she sobbed, anger and shame radiating off of her shaking form.

Marc hesitated, unsure the correct course of action as he watched her cry. Did she want to be held? Was touch too much? Was she still angry at him? She loved him. At least before Jack, she loved him. And she thought she didn’t deserve him? He had always known, in some sense, that what they had was more than friendship, he had always considered their bond something beyond definition, something fiery and strong, something he could always call too.

Even that night, that horrible fucking night in Eygpt as he laid at Khonsu’s feet with a gun to his chin he had called to it, reaching out into the universe to feel her, begging for something. He felt her, and his finger hesitated at the trigger, a hesitation that lasted long enough for Khonshu to call on him, long enough for his life to be spared, long enough to bring him back and bring him to her.

Marc Spector didn’t have anywhere else to go. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He could always go back to his parents, that was always an option. Not one he would take. The last time he was there was when Rebecca had heat exhaustion and he needed to take her somewhere she could stay cool. He’d do it again. He’d even have lunch with his mom if it was for Rebecca’s safety. But Rebecca would never ask that of him, and things were different now. She had been doing better. She was engaged in an insane whirlwind romance that had left Marc suspicious. Rebecca was always practical. But maybe she was just in love. Marc missed his chance, two decades worth of chances, and maybe she was finally happy with someone who was man enough to tell her how he felt.

Only a week ago, he nearly swallowed a bullet. Now he was grappling with what it meant to be the slave to an Eygytion god. Rebecca would have something to say about that, probably lecture him on how he must not have paid any attention during passover, and what would their ancestors think? Well, that wasn’t exactly on his mind as he lay dying, but here he was. Just as he had crawled up the steps of Khonshu’s statue to die, he was practically crawling to her door. Unannounced, no warning, he knocked, hoping to the not-Khonshu God that she was home, having not moved in with her fiance yet, not until the wedding.

Relief flowed through him when he saw her face, ever warm and welcoming. Ever beautiful as the last time he saw her, nearly a year ago, the only difference was her hair was longer. Longer than any time he had ever seen it, save for her childhood when her dad made her grow out her hair. It was often a matted mess, thick and curly, her mother had died without having taught her proper hair care for the curl type, and god knows her dad was no help. He also refused to take her to cut it, insisting girls should have long hair. That was until one day when Rebecca was 12, she chopped it off. Badly. Like, it was a disaster. Carl then told her he wouldn’t pay to get it professionally cut, claiming this was her lesson. Rebecca had come to Marc’s house crying, chunks of hair shorter than others. Marc had, of course, insisted it looked great. That was a blatant lie, but even at 11 he knew better than to tell a girl her hair looked bad.

Elias had come home to find the girl his son had formed a codependent friendship with sobbing on his couch and took mercy on the poor child, taking her in for a haircut to fix it, and a few more as it grew out over the next year, until Rebecca had started making her own money babysitting. That night, Marc overheard his dad on the phone. Carl had called to yell at Elias, but his dad wasn’t deterred, telling him that he had seen the matted mess his daughters hair had been, threatening to turn him in to CPS if he didn’t drop it. Elias didn’t know Carl was beating her, the way Wendy beat Marc, and had likely hurt her when he saw the haircuts, but this at least shut Carl up. Marc briefly wondered why his dad could stand up for Rebecca, but not him… but he supposed it was different when it’s your wife.

Marc hurt at the idea that Jake had twisted her so fucking far that she doubted their friendship, their love. She had to know he loved her, even if she didn’t think it was romantic, she had to have known he would do anything for her… How had Jack taken that way? All they ever had was each other, and somehow he took that. He had to have known, had to have known that Marc was the only thing standing in the way of total control, so he took out that target. “Can I hold you, Beccs?”

She nodded. “Careful. Ribs still hurt.” She was still covering her face in shame. Rebecca hated crying.

“Of course, Metukah.” Marc hugged her softly, relying more on his arms holding her than being chest to chest. He took a moment to just feel her, to just hold her, exist together as they should have been all this time. “You think I rescued you? All this time, you think I was taking pity on you? Becca, honey, I was trying to repay you”

Finally, she looked up at him. “Hm?”

Marc held the side of her face that wasn’t burnt. “You saved me, our entire childhood, you were my everything, the only one I had after Randall died” It hurt to say his name out loud, even still. “I have spent years trying to repay you, and I will spend the rest of my life, and it will still never be enough. I am forever indebted to you. You think you don’t deserve me?” He blinked at her, unbelieving she could think such a thing. “You have always been the center of my gravity, my life force, my strength. This isn’t charity, it’s love.”

Her brown eyes watered again as she looked at him. “Love?”

Marc Spector smiled at her. “Yeah. I love you. I’ve always loved you, I just… could never find a way to say it”

Finally, Rebecca smiled at him. “I love you too, Marc” Her lips were chapped and dry from the stress and the near-boiling water that hit her face, but when she kissed him, he felt like there could be nothing better in the entire world. He felt like a teenager again, like they were picking up where they left off.

She pulled away slowly, before it could deepen, and she took his hand, two fingers still wrapped up from where they had been broken in the door. “This is all… everything is very fresh… I love you, and I’m not saying you have to wait for me-”

“Of course, baby, take all the time you need, I’ll be here waiting” He kissed her forehead. “Always right here waiting”

When she answered the door to find him, she smiled at first, but it quickly faded to worry. Marc’s wounds had healed, Khonshu trading Marc’s life for servitude, but it was clear how lost he was, that something was broken in him. Well. Something new, anyway.

“Beccs, I’m sorry I didn’t call I just-” Marc was interrupted by a forceful hug, then was ushered inside.

“Shower first, it’s cold out, I’ll get you some clothes, okay? Warm up.” She touched his face, smiling gently as she coaxed him into the bathroom with a t-shirt and men’s pajamas. “Take your time sweetheart, then we’ll talk”

Marc nodded, still in a daze. How much he wanted to talk, he wasn’t sure. She wouldn’t push him, she never did, but there was no keeping secrets from Becca, he’d always tell her eventually, so he might as well now. Going through the motions, Marc showered himself, eventually padding his wet feet back out to the living room. Senses still hazy, having barely been able to do more than nod along since he came to the apartment. The whole week felt like a bad acid trip. And yes… he couldn’t help feel a little bit better when he saw you in the kitchen. He knew automatically you were making him tea.

You turn to see him, greeting him with a warm smile and nodding to the couch. “Sit down, I’ll be right there.” Marc nodded and did as he was told, body moving on its own as he continued to live in this haze of a day dream.

He suddenly found himself holding a hot mug of tea as the couch sank and she sat next to him, looking as beautiful as ever. “Drink some first, I’m not going anywhere.”

There was no hurry, no urgency to be somewhere. Like how they always were, he could take him time around her. When he was ready, she’d be there. He took the spoon and blew on it before sipping the hit liquid, furrowing his brows.

“What’s wrong? Don’t like it?”

Marc shook his head. “No, I like it, that’s what’s confusing me. Since when do you drink berry tea?”

Rebecca was a big tea drinker, swearing by its calming and healing effects, but she always preferred less fruity tastes, like English breakfast or herbal. Marc didn’t really like tea, but when Rebecca made flavors like pomegranate and put lots of sugar in, he enjoyed it.“Oh yeah.” She spoke casually. “I alway keep the fruity shit you like on hand, just in case you drop by. I have those god awful beef ramen noodle cups you used to inhale back in the day”

That did it. That broke him. Everything that Marc Spector had been holding back this week pushed through, and he started sobbing.

Rebecca didn’t say a word about the dingy building they walked into. She had insisted she could pay for a lawyer, but she was probably glad his friend wasn’t exactly expensive.

As Marc opened the door, Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson turned to greet them, standing in front of the table in the middle of the room.

“Marc! How’s it going!” Foggy greeted enthusiastically.

“Hey guys, thanks for meeting with us” Marc kept a protective grasp on Rebecca’s shoulders. Not because he didn’t trust the pair, but because the last few days scared the shit out of him, and he wanted her close.

“Of course.” Matty extended a hand to Rebecca, who was obviously a little surprised the blind man knew exactly where she was standing, but took it anyway. “Marc tells us you insist on paying, but we want to do this for you. Marc has saved our skin a bunch of times, we owe him.”

Rebecca shook her head. “No, I appreciate it, but no. Give someone lse your pro-bono work, I don’t need it” Her pride may be wounded, but she was a proud woman.”

Foggy laughed a bit “Ma’am, most of what we do is pro-bono, it feels like” He joked, and Matt gently nudged him. Foggy motioned for them to sit at the table.

“You can give someone else your charity, Mr. Nelson.”

Matt interjected. ”It’s not charity, miss Malcolm-”

“Levi” Marc interrupted. “Her last name is Levi”

“Oh, sorry, we were just going over the documents you sent over-”

“Yeah, Malcolm was that bastard’s-”

Rebecca put a comforting hand on Marc’s arm. “Honey, I got it.” She turned back to Matt. “Malcolm is my husband’s-”

Marc wouldn’t shut up. “-He’s not your fucking-” He stopped when she squeezed his arm.

She continued looking at Matt, not glancing towards Marc as he interrupted her. “-My husband’s name. And thank you, Mr. Murdock, but there are plenty of people in worse situations than me.”

Matt smiled. “We won’t be billing you. If you feel uncomfortable with that, St. Monica’s is a wonderful women’s shelter, I’ve worked with them in the past with other victims, you can donate whatever you think is fair their, and the money will be put to good use, I promise.”

Rebecca was conceeded. “Fine.”

“Now.” Matt placed his fingers over some brail papers. “Marc says you don’t want anything out of the divorce?”

Marc spoke up. “No, but she should, after all that bastard did to her”

“Marc, honey, I got it” Rebecca spoke, and Marc missed the irritation laced in her voice, but Foggy didn’t.

“Sorry” Marc muttered.

Rebecca had taken the information surprisingly well. In a world where norse gods were fighting in New York, anything was possible.

“I suppose an Egyption god isn’t the strangest thing I’ve heard this year”

“Yeah, Might be the the strangest for me” he muttered

A pause. “I’m sorry that happened. But… you know… it’s not your-”

“Don’t” Marc groaned. “Don’t say it”

“Okay.”

“I don’t know what this means. For… for my life”

She understood this meant his life would be even less predictable.

“The wedding is in two months… Stay for that? You can stay here. I’ve been moving my shit into Jacks anyway, I’ll just move all the way in”

“I don’t want to take you’re-”

“Stop, Marc, please? Stay here, do whatever shit you have to do at night just… I want you at my wedding. Please?”

Marc had been invited, of course. He couldn’t help feel the invite a bit of a slap, a visible sigh Jack had changed her. Any other year, he would have been in the wedding. Another life, he would have married her. He had made his excuses as to why he couldn’t come. None of that mattered right now. “Yeah Rivkah, I’ll stay for the wedding”

Rebecca continued. “I just want him out of my life, I just want to be done. I don’t need anything.”

“Marc has told me some of what happened. I’m very sorry to hear what he did.”

With a dry laugh, Becca smiled sadly. “When I moved to Seattle, I thought it would be different. I wanted to see so much there, really get into the local music scene… But now I just understand why grunge sounds like that.”

Foggy “Ah, yeah, hate grunge”

Me too! Steven made his first appearance of the day. Although Marc was pretty sure he terrified Foggy, Foggy and Steven had become friends.

Matty nodded. “Well, if everything was documented by police and medical staff, you’d have a pretty strong case for cruelty, and can get a settlement that could help you get back on your feet”

“I-” Rebecca started by Marc continued his seeming one way conversation with Matt.

“I made sure they wrote down everything-”

Foggy “Hey Marc, Maybe let Ms. Levi-”

Marc wasn’t listening. “-and I'll have the police report on hand too, we filed for that before we left.”

“Marc,” Rebecca glared at him. “What are you doing?”

Marc blinked. “I’m trying to help“

Eyes wide with that little bit of crazy in her, Rebecca told him in no uncertain terms to stop. “Marc Spector, I have a masters degree in social work, do you really think I don’t know how this works? Do you think I don’t know what needs to be documented and what reports to file for? This is literally a part of my job. Please. Stop.” She begged him.

Marc nodded, turning to Foggy, who was smiling a bit. “What’s so funny?”

Foggy went straight faced. “Nothing”

“Marc” Matt drew his friends' attention away from Foggy “Would you prefer to sit outside?”

“No fucking way”

Rebecca looked at him. “Keep speaking for me, and you will” She turned back to Matt. “Both hospital visits are documented, the times he hurt me that didn’t require the hospital obviously aren’t. I know we can’t prove the condom tampering, but is it possible to claim he’s at fault for the miscarriage?”

There was a pause. Matty spoke first. “I’m sorry Ms. Levi, Marc only told us about the burns, your fingers and ribs. He didn’t say anything about a miscarraige.” He looked sympathetic, Foggy looked downright stricken. He’d seen a lot in this field but cases like this always hurt to watch.

Marc spoke carefully, making sure he wasn’t interrupting Rebecca, but she was looking at him like she expected him to talk. “I didn’t want… I figured you should be the one to talk about it, since it’s very private”

And just like that, all the frustration Rebecca felt with Marc melted. She turned to her lawyers. “I didn’t know I was pregnant until Marc came that day… I…” She glanced at the table in embarrassment, before gathering herself to look back up. “Jack had come to the hospital. We were… we were going to try again, he said he’d stop rinking, and I know it was stupid but I believed him”

“It’s not stupid” Foggy assured. “He manipulated you. After so many years he just got better at it. There’s a reason he didn’t start out violent, he had to win you over first, learn what strings to pull and what games to play. He only ever did what he thought he could get away with.”

Rebecca closed her eyes and nodded, feeling understood, before continuing. “When Marc got there, Jack had went for food. When he came back, Marc was there, he told me I was pregnant” Rebecca explained how she didn’t realize it, she didn’t even think she could get pregnant, and how she had miscarried that night. “He said I thought we used condoms. I assume that means he took it off, or poked holes or something”

Matty nodded. “It will make a difference with what you think he did, between condom tampering and removal, we’ll look into Washington’s specific laws.”

Marc just had to pipe up again. “What? Why? It’s rape. It’s illegal everywhere.”

Matty tried to clarify. “I know, but under different state laws, it depends. In California, condom removal is rape, but condom tampering is just deception.”

Anger growing again, Marc’s voice raised. “If he had to deceive her to have sex, it’s not sex, it’s rape”

“Marc stop,” Rebecca tried.

“I know that, and you know that, but what we believe and what the law says are often two different things, you know that as well as me” Matt tried to reason with his fellow vigilante.

“He raped-!”

“Marc! Out!” Rebecca stood up quickly, trying not to yell. Marc, Foggy and Matt all stood up with her.

Marc looked confused. “Beccs-”

“No!” she raised her hands in defeat. “Stop yelling to these people I barely know about me being raped, and stop talking for me! Stop saying rape, I swear to fucking god, Marc!” She put her hands on his shoulders as Foggy rounded the table. “I love you, I love you so, so much, and I thank god everyday for you but jesus, Marc, you are coming in too hot, and I need to do this alone”

Marc opened his mouth to argue, but Foggy’s hand was on his shoulder. “Marc, let’s step out”

“But-” Marc started, but Steven took the body. “Right mate, let’s go” He leaned over to Rebecca “Let us know when you’re ready, love” and with that, Foggy and Steven walked to the other room.

Rebecca turned to Matt. “I take it Marc’s DID isn’t news to you guys then”

Matty smiled. “No, neither is Moon Knight”

Bursting out in a laugh, rare these days, she grinned at him. “Oh, he told you about that, did he?”

“I met Moon Knight first, actually”

“Oh? He beat up a pick pocket or some shit?”

Matty saw an opportunity. “You just assume I can’t be a hero like Marc, huh? Just like that?”

She goes pale. “Oh! No, I just-”

But Matt couldn’t keep the game going for long, not when he clearly made her panic. He laughed “Relax. I would recommend crime fighting for the average blind person. Just the ones who were blinded by radioactive goop.”

Rebecca crossed her arms and sat back. “Always the radioactive, huh?”

“Yup, just like the song” His hand went back to the papers. “Now, let's see how much money we can get from this bastard.”

As Marc rang the doorbell to Rebecca’s house, he heard the eager pitter patter of feet, and he knew who would be answering the door.

“Marc! Marc! Come check out my nintendo!” Asa took Marc’s hand and dragged him to the living room as Marc called to Rebecca he was going to be with Asa for a bit.

Of course her dad magically has money to buy Asa a nintendo, but Rebecca has to buy school supplies herself.

Asa was 6 years younger than Marc and Rebecca were, leaving him only 3 when their mom died. Rebecca had spent most of her preteens and youth taking care of him, since her dad was usually too drunk. When Marc began coming around after school around age 11, he realized why Becca never did after school activities, despite being smart and knowing so many people; she had a kid to take care of, a mom to a 6 year old at the ripe age of 12. Although Becca would come over to his place sometimes, especially after Asa got older, They generally preferred Rebecca’s, and Marc helped step in with Asa. It wasn’t like Marc exactly had the strongest father figure growing up, but he knew how to be a bi brother. It was cathartic, really. It wasn’t like Marc had to do all that much. Their dad considered Asa the golden boy, while Rebecca was the scapegoat.

But Marc was there to do stuff brothers did. He taught Asa how to play catch, and later helped him practice baseball on the off seasons, when Asa inevitably joined a team. And he was good, too. Enough to get a small sports scholarship to UNL, which combined with the midwest exchange program for in-state tuition, he was able to scrape by college. Marc had lost a lot of contact with him after him and Rebecca became homeless; Marc wasn’t allowed in the house after their dad found him in Rebecca’s bedroom. He would go years without seeing Asa, but he always asked about him when he saw Rebecca, and occasionally they’d see Asa when both were in town… but Asa had changed.

Carl blamed Rebecca for everything. When she left home, that rubbed off on Asa, and instead of being grateful that Rebecca was surrogate mother to him, he began to see her as the problem, which, of course, was a problem to Marc. Meet ups became less frequent as they had begun to devolve into fights, where Asa would blame Rebecca, and Marc would fiercely defend her, leading to shouted matches with Becca dragging Marc away.

Marc wasn’t good at making friends. He wasn’t good with people in general. He had Steven, but no matter what Steven said, Marc knew Steven was there because he had to be. He missed Asa. He missed Randall. He missed Rebecca whenever she was gone. It was nice to have Matt.

When they got home that night, Rebecca seemed tired, but he had something planned, something that couldn’t be moved. “Rivkah? Do you know what today is?” He asked as they entered their newly shared home.

She thought for a second, then eyes went wide with panic “YOUR BIRTHDAY?! Wait. No. Not for two days. Uuuuuuhh.” a small gasp. “Oh fuck, it’s Purim”

Marc nodded, a small smile on his face. “Do you want to go? I know we’ve had a long week-”

“Yeah, but it’s past sundown, no office is going to be open, and there’s no way we’re getting into a service if we don’t talk to a rabbi, not in this climate-”

“Honey” Marc took her hands. “I already called, we’re registered, if we want to go” He looked at her, softening from the wear of the day just by taking in her pretty face. Even with the scar, she was still the prettiest woman he’d ever seen.

“Marc…” She gave his hand a squeeze. “You don’t have to go. I know it makes you uncomfortable”

He shook his head. “No, it’s just… it’s different. Not used to it. But with you with me…” Marc pulled her in for a hug. “I’ll be fine. Do you remember what I said last month, when you called me after getting out of the hospital?”

She laughed a bit “I don’t remember much from the last year, if I’m being honest.”

“I told you if you left with me, if you let me help you, I’d go to services with you. And here you are.”

“You don’t have too-”

“I got costumes.”

Rebecca pulled back at that, smirking at him. “Marc Spector, I knew you as a child, your ‘halloween costume’ was just your dads suit and a drawn on mustache for years. You’re telling me you got costumes?”

“Well…” he raises an eyebrow “These aren't much better. C’mere.”

He gestured her over to the amazon prime box and pulled out what he had. “For me” A red headband, flannel, and a white t-shirt “Bruce Springsteen. And for you,” Long blonde wig, flowy black dress and a black shawl with embroidery. “Stevie Nicks. Whaddya think?”

She looked like she would cry, then nearly tackled him in a hug “I think I love you, Marc Spector”

Holding her close to him, he nestled his face into her neck, taking her in. “I think I love you too, Rebecca Levi”

That night at Purim services, when it was time for the Kaddish, Rebecca stood, holding Marc’s hand.

*********************

Thanks for reading!!! I promise the next chapter wont suck so bad. I have more of a theme/story planned for flashbacks, we're gonna get to know Asa a bit more, see Mark meet Jack, and see the wedding day. Then, our fav Jake makes an appearance.

Be sure to check out my masterlist here, lots of fic with oscar isaac characters, as well as some others like bruce springsteen and Han solo!

LMK if you'd like to join the tag list!!

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @ninebluehearts @sofi786 @myfandomlikesandstories @tippycakes26 @ahookedheroespureheart @arsonfrogger

#marc spector #marc spector fluff #marc spector fanfic #marc spector moon knight #marc spector smut #seattle moon knight fic #moon knight #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight angst #marc spector hurt comfort #jewish marc spector

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billy-hardgrove · 7 months

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“Why so blue, pretty boy?”

Billy hopped over the small wall Steve was perched on, sitting himself down right next to him and flashing a wide grin that was only met with a stone-faced scowl staring forwards.

“I’m not doing this again.” Steve closed his eyes, trying to will away everything around him, including Billy; but the small, raspy laugh next to him signalled the other man wasn’t going anywhere. It was unseasonably chilly for the middle of July, Steve even having to wear one of his sweaters out. The sky was grey, overcast, not a single spot of blue. The weatherman said the tail end of some tropical storm was blowing over town, but Steve couldn’t help but feel it was fitting for a town in mourning.

“I get it. I’d be depressed too if I had to work in that dump. Still a whole lot better than slinging Ice Cream though, eh?”

“How did you- Ugh.” Steve rolled his eyes. Of course Billy knew about his new job at Family Video. He’d be starting in a couple of days, but that wasn’t why he was so out of it. He’d still be working with Robin, which was oddly comforting, and the uniform was much, much more dignified. “I’m not depressed.” He was. “I’m just thinking.”

“Yeah, well don’t hurt yourself.” Now that got Steve to turn towards Billy, scowling at the sun kissed blonde. The way the light hit him cast a golden halo around his body and made his hair shine. But nothing was brighter than the smile on his face. “Relax, big guy, everything’s over. You don’t gotta play babysitter. Or monsterhunter. So quit lookin’ like you got the weight of the world of your shoulders.”

Steve just sighed, running a hand back through his hair and making that well-groomed mop flop forwards. Even depressed he still managed to take care of himself.

“I just wish I did more. Maybe-”

“Maybe what? Huh? You weren’t the only one a part of that rodeo. Why are you actin’ like everything fell on you?” It stung because he was right. He just refused to believe it. Everything had happened so fast, over the course of a few days, and by the time the Mindflayer lay dead and Starcourt stood in flames they were all left shell shocked. It was taking a lot more time to actually process it all. To come to terms with everything they lost.

“If I hadn’t let myself get mixed up with that Russian bullshit, I-”

“Fuck sake, Harrington!” Billy pushed himself to his feet and came around to stand in front of Steve, forcing the other to look his way. He couldn’t look more like a Cali kid even if he tried. The swim trunks, the flip flops, the sunglasses perched on his head, the loose shirt with a measly two buttons done up at the bottom leaving Steve to wonder why even bother. “Enough with the pity party, yeah? Who the hell even invited me?”

“I did.” He turned away. He couldn’t even bear to look at him. He didn’t want someone trying to make him feel better, he just wanted to… wallow for awhile. “I’m sorry.”

Billy crossed his arms with a loud huff and the pair fell silent for a few moments, until it became too awkward and an uncomfortable grimace spread over Steve’s face.

“Alright! Alright! I get it!” He threw his arms up and then waved them dismissively towards Billy. “I’ll stop being so damn hard on myself. You happy now?” He still couldn’t look at him, but he didn’t have to to know that Billy wasn’t smiling any more. That that golden glow had faded and the man had been cast into shadow, just like the rest of the town.

“No. Not until you stop blaming yourself.” Billy took his seat next to Steve again, their knees knocking together. But Steve couldn’t feel it. “If it was anyone’s fault, it was mine--”

“No!” His face twisted into anger, his hands clenching into fists around his knees. “How the hell was any of that your fault?!”

“That’s what you think though. Right? The same part of you that blames yourself, even though it wasn’t, blames me, too. Blames… Hopper. Henderson. Wheeler. All of them. You’re just spinning a wheel and throwing the blame at whoever’s name it lands on to try and make yourself feel better because the real thing to blame is… gone. And you’re not even allowed to talk about it.”

Steve was grateful that the sky chose that moment to open up and shower them both in a light rain. The droplets leaving small dark patches in his denim would do wonders to hide the ones he was making himself.

This was too much. It was all too much. And he had no one to talk to about any of it. He felt guilty bringing it up around the kids, especially Max, he just wanted them to try and get back to normal as quickly as possible. To try and enjoy their summer and just be kids. Any attempt to talk about it with Robin left her looking confused and uncomfortable. This was all still so new to her, and she was still clearly grasping with the concept of the supernatural being real. He was supposed to be there for her, not the other way around. Nancy was… no. He couldn’t talk to Nancy. He had no one. No one but himself.

“So what if I want to blame myself a little? Maybe this is how I get better, huh?” His voice shook as he swallowed down a sob. “Maybe this is how I process shit?” Steve tilt his head back, eyes closed again, letting the rain bespeckle his face, his ears twitching at the sound of distant thunder. Maybe there was a storm coming after all.

“Maybe. I ain’t a psychologist. But if that’s true then maybe some part of you knows its wrong. Wants to challenge those thoughts. And that’s… that’s why I’m here, right?” The faint smell of nicotine sent a shiver down Steve’s spine, finally turning towards Billy and looking at him again. He wasn’t even smoking. “Steve. I know if you’d been a bit more aware what was goin’ on with me, despite all the shit we went through, you’d have tried everything to help me. You’d have been at Max’s side. Comin’ up with dumb plans to trap me. Try and get that thing outta me. I know.” He reiterates that with a firmness in his voice, grabbing Steve’s attention and giving him a stern look.

“I wish that was true.” Steve locks eyes with Billy, offers him a smile, and then shakes his head. “I saw the look on your face when you were staring up at that thing. You were so scared. You looked so… alone. I wish I knew for a fact that you knew that we’d have done anything to save you. If we just had more time. But that’s what really kills me, you know? That you might have died thinking that none of us cared. That no one cared.”

Steve tucked his arms around himself, tried to make himself small, pulled himself away from the figure next to him. Billy was dead. Billy was in the ground. This was just some figment of his own mind trying to make him feel better, just like he’d said.

‘Billy’ got back to his feet, the light of the sun illuminating his face again as he smiled. “You’re a good guy, Steve Harrington. And some part of you believes that. Or I wouldn’t be saying it, right? I’m just following your script after all.” The figment let out a loud bark of laughter, that faded into another, much closer, clap of thunder. Steve’s head jerked upwards, but by then he was already gone, leaving behind only the ghostly scent of cigarette smoke.

Some part of him had to believe that, huh? Yeah. He supposed he did. It was just going to take time to hear it in his own voice.

#Stranger Things #Ficlet #Steve Harrington #Billy Hargrove #Angst

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ganseysglasses · 1 year

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I’ve had boygenius brain rot since The Record was released so let me tell you what song goes to which of the raven cycle characters.

Starting with the obvious, Ronan is SO revolution 0 are you kidding?? “i don’t wanna die / that’s a lie / but i’m afraid to get sick / i don’t know what that is” so so so Ronan. ALSO “i used to think if i just closed my eyes / i would disappear” ?? enough said. revolution 0 is questioning the world you’re in and your purpose in it and if that isn’t the epitome of Ronan Lynch idk what it.

Adam is definitely Letter To An Old Poet to me. This was a really hard choice because Adam Parrish is incredibly boygenius coded but i have evidence. “you’re not special, you’re evil / you don’t get to tell me to calm down / you made me feel like an equal / but i’m better than you / and you should know that by now” it’s Adam Parrish learning who he is and that he’s more than his background, more than what he’s been told he is by his father, the other students at aglionby, and even himself. Letter To An Old Poet makes me feel like reflecting on what used to be and realizing how much time has changed everything around me. That’s just so Adam!!

I’m not SUPER confident on this one, but Noah is Anti-Curse. First of all, Noah Czerny just seems like a Julien Baker fan idk. Also kind of obvious text evidence “making peace with my inevitable death.” now i KNOW that could also be Gansey, but hear me out. Noah knew from the beginning that he was going to be gone and leave his friends over and over again (poor guy :( ) and he still MOURNED and resisted his inevitable undoing. I feel like Gansey didn’t even actually come to terms with his death. All of the Raven King was spent searching for a solution, and even though Gansey had proof he would die, he didn’t quit searching for a solution. Noah on the other hand embodies Anti-Curse and the theme of making peace with where you are. It’s really heartbreaking honesty.

Gansey boy himself is OBVIOUSLY True Blue. I have authority on this because i AM Gansey. He’s me. Anyways, i realized Gansey was true blue when i heard the line “but it feels good to be known so well / i can’t hide from you like i hide from myself” which is also when i had the idea for this post (before taking many weeks to write it out). Additionally just think about Gansey’s relationship with his friends with this verse “you’ve never done me wrong except for that one time / that we don’t talk about / because it doesn’t matter anymore / who won the fight? / I don’t know” Gansey being so willing to do anything for his friends, and ignore any fights or disagreements just to get them to stay. True Blue embodies the longing to be seen. to be known and understood and loved in despite of people seeing. And that’s a very clear character trait of Gansey’s throughout the books.

Finally, Blue Sargent herself. She’s Satanist, which i feel might be a bit of an obvious choice but it fits. Blue makes it known where she stands on everything, is very independent, and has a lot to prove, which really suits this song. The verse “will you be an anarchist with me? / sleep in cars and kill the bourgeoisie / at least until you find out what a fake i am” says it best. Blue is so desperate to be sure of herself and achieve what she wants, but there’s so much she’s not sure of. (her principles after finding her raven boys, college, careers, their quest, etc) Satanist is a song that takes a stand so confidently while having no real intention of acting upon the decisions made. Not because it doesn’t believe in the decisions or the principles behind it, but because it doesn’t believe in itself.

Anyways that’s my interpretation of the raven cycle with special guests Boygenius!

#the raven cycle #gansey #blue sargent #adam parrish #ronan lynch #noah czerny #richard gansey #boygenuis #the record #phoebe bridgers #julien baker #lucy dacus #the raven boys

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jedi-bird · 2 months

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You know what? Since I'm procrastinating going to sleep and this memory popped into my head, it's story time.

A long time ago, I made a joke that reading fanfic saved my life. Only it really wasn't a joke. I meant it to be, just so no one would worry about me. But in reality, it was very much the truth.

After my mom died, I didn't know how to cope. I wasn't allowed to openly mourn ("think of your grandfather," family would say, scolding me, "he lost his daughter, which is much worse than you losing your mom.") I wasn't allowed to talk to anyone about it, except for my partner (later spouse who is still just as awesome and wonderful as they were then). I wasn't given any time to come to terms with anything. I was a full time caretaker for my grandfather. I just kind of existed in a state of numbness and bad thoughts.

Add to that having to deal with my stepfather again for the first time in years. Between him blaming me for her dying and him trying to convince me to move in with him and be his new wife, I didn't want to be here anymore.

At the time, I had very few friends with similar interests to me. But I had seen a few pics of characters I liked pop up on social media and I decided one night while unable to sleep to go looking online. It was the first time I had actual access to the internet too, so it felt like a sign. I wasn't on tumblr yet, but I did find it and lurked for a while back before you needed an account.

Then I found ao3. I can't describe the feeling that first click brought forth.

At the time, it was summer and our air conditioner was broken. We had no money, so I would sleep with my window partway open. Because of the cost cutting measures my grandpa took when having them installed when I was a kid, they only opened about three inches. Now, unless you walked right up to my window, you wouldn't know it was open; the seam was low enough that the opening wasn't visible. And my room was in the front of the house so I would know immediately if anyone came up; I could hear everything out there and was a light sleeper at the time because of being a caretaker.

My stepfather, who turned into a stalker for a few years, would drive down to our house in the middle of time night. How do I know? He let it slip once while berating me for my mom yet again. But also, I knew what his car sounded like. I lived in fear of it, because next he would walk around the corner where my room was and try to peek in the windows (I had blackout curtains nailed to the frame so that was impossible). And once he realized my window was partly open, he'd sometimes whisper my name. So here I'd be, laying a dark room, trying to ignore him, trying to pretend I was asleep. I knew he couldn't get in. And yes, I should have called the police. But years of abuse and mental and emotional beatdowns made me think I wasn't allowed to.

The third time this happened, while I was quietly having a panic attack, I remembered ao3. And since my phone didn't produce enough light to be seen through the curtain, I would pop in some earplugs and just read until the sun came to. Because once it got close to morning he'd leave so the neighbors wouldn't become suspicious.

I didn't sleep much that year. But I read a ton. Most of those fics I can't find anymore and sometimes I'm sad about that. But they also did their job and kept me going. They sparked an obsession and reminded me just how much I used to love writing. I started pulling out notebooks again and writing in spare moments. I read voraciously anything with my favorite characters in it. I learned what I did and didn't like in fiction. I joined tumblr and ao3 within the same week and never looked back.

Fandom, though I don't interact with much of it, kept me alive. Fanfic saved my life with distractions and entertainment. It still keeps me going, though I don't read as much as I used to (time makes it hard some weeks, since I'm always busy lately). I'm no longer in the same place and my stalker no longer tries to contact me; and even if they did, they wouldn't be able to get to our house. I still love the same characters that got me through that darkness. I still feel a sense of comfort reading fics about them. Life is better. Not perfect and definitely a struggle sometimes, but I'm here and I will keep being here.

And that's all that matters.

#birdy's story time #mentions of death and thoughts of suicide and stalking #read with caution if these are upsetting

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dulcewrites · 1 year

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okay but let's discuss what meeting alys and elysa who are obviously both women and a couple would mean for alicent (putting the more prevalent 'my son/our husband and the love of our life is dead and we're all mourning' part of their meeting aside for a quick minute lol). i could see the girls not being overly affectionate in her presence but her still sensing a vibe, maybe seeing younger rhaenyra and herself in the looks they exchange and how they act around each other and just being like 'oh'. cause as much as im of the opinion that yes, she is indeed deeply repressed, i don't think she's stupid. i like to think that even tho she does not let herself dwell on it and can't call certain feelings by name, she Does have them at the back of her mind, maybe having thought about it a lot and having come to terms with it throughout those years spent apart/estranged from rhaenyra. personally i headcanon alicent as a lesbian so that would ofc make their experiences very different but basically what im getting at is alicent maybe thinking 'there are other people similar to me out there?' and all three of them maybe feeling some sort of unsaid sense of solidarity:((

Wait… why did this literally make me tear up 😭😭. Especially the “there are people similar to me out there” part. I honestly didn’t even think about this angle but oh I def am now. Specifically since I have the headcanon that alys was the one who sort of hinted to Aemond that maybe those complicated feelings he picked up from his mom (towards Rhaenyra) are for a different reason.

I saw this tweet about that scene between young Alicent and cristion. When he basically own goals himself and admits he was the one who slept with nyra, and how devastated she looked. Like yes it is her best friend (and crush) lying to her, on her mother’s name (nyra why ☹️). Yes it is a princess putting herself in a precarious position before being married and she is the queen. But basically the tweet was how Alicent probably was upset bc she realized Rhaenyra could have feelings for men in a way Alicent can’t (I like this bc I headcanon Alicent as a lesbian and Rhaenyra as bi).

Alys would probably pick up on the energy straight away bc Aemond tells her about Alicent sending terms. Then she sees Rhaenyra spared Alicent’s life. Considering everything that has happened, you don’t do that type of stuff for just anyone. Regardless of how close you may have been as girls. Something else is there.

They wouldn’t be overly affectionate but I’m sure Alicent would be like “why were these non targ girls essentially fine with sharing a husband”. Like not even best of besties do that lmao. But then she sees alys confronting Elysa over something it just… hits her.

I like the idea of her seeing different versions of herself in the girls. She probably sees a lot of her younger herself in Elysa. alys is the first woman she’s ever been with in that way. I would think alys, just by being older, probably knew longer about liking women. So on top of being a young mother now, she’s probably still finding her footing with her sexuality/relationships. Then she probably sees how maybe things could have been in alys. Who despite the bad hand she’s been dealt for so long, still found Aemond and Elysa. She gets to raise her kids with a woman who loves her. Or maybe seeing a bit of Rhaenyra in sense that she got to grow up while Alicent maybe feels like she’s stuck in the same place.

#this made me ☹️☹️☹️☹️#but I love you guys bc I can always count on someone bringing up a perspective or idea I didn’t yet #dil asks

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rocksandboulders · 5 months

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i wrote this about how im doing right now and about the path ive taken to get where i am. it's a healing bit of writing, but it hurts. it's mostly about childhood and growth. enjoy.

tw: mental health issues, suicide mention, parents

I think at this point in my life, upon coming to terms with my childhood, my past, I have moved forwards into a mourning of sorts.

It started with an anxiety, a fear of what I had to overcome to heal. I looked away from everything to escape, I moved, I isolated, I cut down and restarted from the beginning to build myself a person in which it was safe to live, and a mind in which I would not continue to kill myself.

When I relearned my lungs, I screamed. I cried out in anger for what I now had to face. I lashed out at my mother. I shunned her from me. I rejected her. I built an impassable fortress around myself and my space and my mind, only letting one in to correspond on business terms. It was dark. There was no warmth.

When my mind finally calmed down, when I shivered in the cold of my aloneness and my eyes ached for the light again, I turned on my lamp and I wrote poetry. I longed to see my mother, my siblings, my family. I found pieces of them in every person I knew, I remembered them in songs I heard, and I began to look at the open places where I had so unceremoniously torn them from inside myself.

And then, I cried.

And as I look, now, upon myself, and upon this old house, upon my past and present, upon those around me, and those who are not, I find myself comforting each of those parts of myself.

I take my boy in corduroy and fit him with the weighted blanket of the one who gave him his first taste of a new, true home.

I regret the tears I caused in that lobby, and thank the universe that my phone battery died when it did. But I’ll never disagree with what I said.

I look at my mother, my siblings, my family, and the spaces that they are finding ways to fill once again, and I take a moment to ponder the hole left still empty. It has the scratches on the walls of one buried alive. There are many versions of me, from many times in my life, that still inhabit this body. Once they finally heal back together, that’s where they’ll all go. Once we are, once I am one person once again.

And, I still cry.

I’m sad to leave, now, when I do. This is my home, this is where I grew and changed. This is where everything that has ever happened has happened. This is where I was before everything. And this is where I come back to, still. I keep all those feelings I’ve had, they all still live inside.

I still run, retreat, hide, and reject those I know.

I still curl into my own body, the walls of my skin and muscle and bone protecting the gentle and heated soul that raptures and destroys.

I still search.

I still write.

And I still yearn. I wish for the years that have passed to be different. I wish I had memories to find joy in from my youth. I wish to read the books they wrote to me and remember how their promises carried through.

I had wanted kids for a long time. I couldn’t stop laughing.

It was the best day in my 25 years of life.

You cried- Mama & Papa felt very bad. But you were brave, very brave.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.

I wish for a childhood that I can remember, not just in fondness, but one I can remember at all. I want, so badly, to be able to hug my mother and know that it isn’t new. I want to feel as though being held by her is something I remember from anywhere, anytime. I want to believe she has always wanted me close.

I want for the unwavering love that a child deserved.

And I want to cry. When that finally sinks in.

#writing #poem #poetry #writer #angst #healing poetry #free verse #tw suicide mention #tw mental health #tw mental illness #tw parents

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moinsbienquekaworu · 7 months

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Good morning my beloved (or at least, it is morning for both of us when I am sending this but hopefully you've gotten to sleep in) and I just wanted to say two things:

1) yes I got your asks and I am so hinged right along with you I love your blorbos like they are my own <3

And 2) I can so so relate to your just wanting to be like "normal" girls but knowing in your bones you'd never be able to be like them. That was my whole childhood, both before and after I started socially transitioning, bc it's like,,,,, you (general you) just want so badly to be normal and yet you know you never will be and it hurts, and it's like mourning something you (general you) never lost in the first place, if that makes sense?? And I'm sure you hear this all the time, esp from people older, and so I'm so so sorry to say it again, but it does genuinely get better as you get older, I promise. You may never be a "normal" girl with "normal" interests and capabilities, but like you even said right in your post, yeah your roommates are cool, us tumblr mutuals are cool, and you're learning who you are, and that's amazing and wonderful and you deserve every bit of joy you get from that

The usual disclaimer of I have severe brain fog applies, but also: you really are epic, I promise, and if you ever need anything just lmk, not that I'd be able to do much across the ocean but I almost always can listen, and I love you very much and good luck and everything <33333

Tomas if I hadn't asked for your hand in very serious and legally binding marriage already that would've sealed the deal. Actually let me get the image again because the sentiment is still there in my heart.

Okay I needed to say it. So. In order:

I did sleep in! I love sleeping in. Sleeping in my beloved. I slept in, did my groceries like the adult I am (and I'm eating both fruits & veg's AND candy, god I love just buying my own stuff), took a shower, and ate pizza in front of the two Deadpool movies. Great day, would do again.

1) well they can be your blorbos too for the low low price of uh - actually it's not a low price it's a good like at least dozen hours just for season one of Daredevil, and that's probably shorter than trying the comics. But. Low low price of a dozen hours and some violence on screen. Otherwise I can keep telling you about it in increasingly detailed rants I love doing that also <3 one thing we'll have in our beautiful home once we're very legally bindingly married will be a big box for hinges at the door the way people have shoe racks. You put your hinges in it when you come in because we want the least hinged environment possible. <3 <3

2) yesss I knew you'd get it, former weird girls assemble and such. I guess I'm not fully out of the weird girl woods, but also maybe if you ever were a weird girl she's always inside of you 🤔 anyway. I know it gets better I'm seeing it real time!! I made cooler friends in high school and I'm making even cooler friends in uni & outside of it and keeping only the best. I'm wearing clothes I like after years of slowing replacing my kid wardrobe with long term pieces. I know what I like and how I like it and by that point I know that like, there will always be someone who'll notice me and like me if I'm loud enough about myself.

It's just the combo of weird girl + aro(ace) + some flavour of neurodivergent. I want to be more spontaneous and meet people and try dating things but my brain's need for structure and my impressive aura of non-romanceability are not helping.

Like you want to be normal but you don't want to become normal, you just want to always have been!! Because by this point becoming normal would be both painful but also just straight up impossible. It's like ADHD in that I am mourning this ethereal potential that rationally I know doesn't exist and never existed.

I just feel like I'm both too young to be here but also already late, which of course you're going to feel like that if you compare yourself to others, but y'know. People older than me at the same stage of life are doing more standard normal things and hitting milestones I should be hitting, and my younger cousins are cooler than me and have boyfriends/girlfriends. My younger brother's going to have a better mark on his first real degree and bring someone home earlier than me, and my only accomplishments of speaking english and having gone abroad will be nothing compared to everyone else hitting milestones Better than me somehow. Anyway. The point is comparison sucks because the only good time for me to hit any milestone is when I do it, because I'm living my life and not anyone else's, but y'know. At least I think most people that actually matter in my life think I'm cool so eh.

WELL. Thank you for the space to be unhinged about many various things. I think you're biased in thinking I'm epic but since I'm getting a good grade in friend I'll take it honestly. You're also epic, I give you a 20/20 in friend and a ring that both is practical so you can wear it even while doing manual tasks and elegant because you are of course worth it. I hope YOU have a good day when you read this (because you're probably asleep/preparing for Morpheus so you should see this in the morning) and I love yoouu <3 <3 <3

#audio/video call whenever you want i have a webcam now!!#thank you so so much for the nice words i already know in my brain what's going on #but it's nice to have someone validate what's going on #wow i have an asks tag now

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scorpiovenusaffliction · 8 months

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Well, I continued to fuck around and found out.

I convinced myself I didn't care, I convinced myself that I was okay being just friends with benefits. I went to go see him a few days ago, and when he was looking through his phone to show me something he briefly opened his messages. And I saw his ex's name at the top as the most recent message. I immediately buried it, pushed it to the side, tried to convince myself I felt nothing about it. But I did. I had feelings for this man. I finally admitted to myself that I did, and I did care, very deeply. That's when I had the soul crushing realization that this man was just going to continue to hurt me, that he was never going to stop messaging his ex and hoping to be with her again, and that he wanted nothing more to do with me. I blocked him. I just wanted to be done. I wanted to put an end to the vicious cycle. This is the first time that I've ever cut someone off like this, especially someone I had feelings for, and it felt like ripping my heart from my chest. Like I was mourning a death. Of course, I blocked him everywhere but my actual phone. It's really hard for me to just completely let go, especially cold turkey. I wanted to see if he would reach out to me, if he would care enough to at least know why I blocked him. In my fucked up mind that would tell me that he at least still cared about me. And he did. And I should have just blocked him. Because I unloaded all my emotions on him. My anger, my pain. Just sorry. Over and over and over. That's all he had for me. Sorry sorry sorry. I'm so tired of hearing sorry. And then he had the nerve to say that what happens with his ex is none of my business because we were just fucking. Are you kidding me? I scoured our messages, down to when we first started talking. Because this man was really trying to gaslight me, making me feel insane for thinking this was more than it was. But I saw the messages and I knew I wasn't crazy. He called me baby, his love, his princess, would tell me how much he missed me, how much he loved spending time with me, how grateful he was for meeting me, how I was everything he wanted in a partner, how amazing I was, how beautiful I was. He came by everyday to see me, brought me food, weed, cigarettes, anything I wanted and needed. He took me out on dates. What we shared was extremely intimate and beautiful. But I guess it only was to me. And then he started getting distant. Because in the end, it didn't matter how much he liked me. In the end, all he wanted in my place was his ex. He never responded to my messages. I don't even think I want him to. He will never say anything that will be good enough. It's plain as day. He lovebombed me, made me fall for him, tricked me, lied to me, manipulated me. Just used me for my body. And then pulled it all back. Saying he didn't have feelings for me. That he just wanted to stay friends. But friends don't do this to eachother. And even though I do have feelings for him, I know I could never be with him. Why would I want a relationship with someone like that? A liar, a manipulator? I know I would only suffer in a relationship like that. I know I could never do that to myself. But it doesn't matter. Because I guess it really is over now. And this is extremely painful and has made me isolate myself once again, bottom of the barrel deep depression. It's extremely painful to realize I never meant anything to him. That he never cared. He put on quite the performance. I fell for it, hook line and sinker. I don't fuck just anybody. And when we did it was extremely intimate and passionate. And I was the only one feeling anything. Do you know how much that breaks my heart to have to come to terms with that? I feel so violated. I gave myself to someone that made me feel like they were safe to give myself to. He kept saying he wasn't going to hurt me, that he only had good intentions with me. But he never did. I was just a fool. Believing that someone could actually love me.

#personal

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lafoiaveugle · 2 years

Text

Here's the funny thing. I don't know if I can get pregnant. I know that being pregnant would be incredibly difficult for me even if I can, and I know that my doctor has done everything he can to keep me off medication that would definitely keep me from having a baby.

Because he wants that to be my decision. There's also a medication I can take and be on while pregnant, and maybe the new medication would work too.

But at 20, I knew the odds of me carrying a child to term was slim. It was something I had to mourn, while also coming to terms with whether or not I wanted to have kids. I am 34, and my youngest siblings are 18. I have spent my life with little ones running around, and it has been a damn good life. I am at peace knowing that I don't want kids of my own, but would maybe make an amazing step-parent one day.

I had a pretty damn good example of a (step)parent who showed me that love meant more than blood. That a dad is a dad. So I know I could be that for a kid.

These are decisions I have made about my life, my body. These are decisions that I have considered in all my actions for the past 14 years. These are not decisions I've made lightly, these are not decisions I've made without shedding a lot of tears.

If a mistake resulted from my actions, I am prepared to deal with that, because I am the one who has to deal with my body trying to literally fucking kill me. That is not hyperbole. My body literally produces antibodies that views healthy cells as invaders. It literally attacks itself to death without medication.

I sat through chemo yesterday while our top court overturned a 100 year law that WORKED.

Today I have laid around sick while the same top court said that the decisions I've made for myself over the past 14 years are not as important as someone wanting to carry a gun.

This after a country has made it very clear to me for the past two years that I am not worth protecting because I am lesser than because I date to live sick with an incurable disease.

Don't tell me it is up to the states and that I'll be fine. Georgia may not be in the first 13 states with the trigger laws, but Georgia is not far behind.

So what am I supposed to do? I cannot be on birth control pills, nor do I believe I can get an IUD for similar reasons. I am also not looking for actual answers here, I just want it understood what is going on through my head.

It isn't an overreaction. It's a country working hard to tell me in anyway possible that I am lesser than, and trying to make me wonder why I keep trying.

I've fought this illness for 14 years. I have won against no less than 5 "uhhhhhh you should be dead how are you alive" moments with doctors. I'm going to keep fighting, but fucking man I'm exhausted.

#roe v wade #wegener's granulomatosis #granulomatosis with polyangiitis #chronic illness #fuck the world #fuck the usa #fuck republicans #fuck republikkkans

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staticscreenwriting · 3 years

Text

HOME // Bucky Barnes

Request: Could you do a Bucky Barnes imagine where he blips but the reader is pregnant so when he comes back he meets their daughter? If not that’s totally understandable and I hope you have an amazing day/night 💕

A/N: Look, I love writing angsty Bucky. But I also love writing happy Bucky. Hope y’all love reading this ♥ Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated.

Join my taglist here! [additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

Thanos being defeated was not the end of it all. It seemed like it. The grand heroic solution to all problems. The ultimate test before things got better. Before they got easier.

That was a lie.

Bucky looks across the vast area of the Stark’s estate as people, all dressed in black, mourn the loss of a dear friend, an idol, a husband, a father.

That word sends a wave of anxiety and fear through him. He knows he can’t run forever and really, he doesn’t want to. He just doesn’t know how to deal with — everything. How to be the man he needs to be. How to step up and not fuck this up.

Sometimes fear makes you do stupid things, really stupid things. Like avoiding the love of your life because you are too afraid of what she might think of you.

His eyes find (Y/N) as she leans against a tree, lips pulled into a sad smile as Sam rambles about one thing or another next to her. This isn’t right. Sam shouldn’t be the one cheering her up and trying to get her to smile. It should be him. If only he wasn’t such a coward.

People don’t talk about these things though. They only talk about those that had been gone now being back again. They talk about the joy of being reunited but not the fears, the sadness, the disappointment — and they sure as hell don’t talk about the guilt.

The guilt of coming back after 5 years to find out you missed so many important moments in the life of a child you never knew you had.

His eyes wander down towards the little girl holding on tightly to her mother’s hand. She has his eyes, his dark hair, his lips. She’s a spitting image of his younger sister. A Barnes through and trough.

Every time he looks at her his heart beats out of his chest in a way he’s never felt before. When they say that the love for your own child is an instant emotion, they are not wrong or exaggerating.

The moment he came back from oblivion and first laid eyes on her, it felt like his heart had known her all his life. He wanted to hold her and shelter her from all the bad things the world might throw her way. Wanted to kiss her little nose and read her stories and sing her silly little songs. He hated singing but for her, he wanted to do it. Just because that’s what dads do.

But fear is one hell of an emotion and above all, it’s terribly convincing.

He’d never had a particularly good example of a father. It was different times then. Different ways of raising your child. Fathers weren’t meant to show affection, they were meant to enforce rules and order. How could he ever be good at this? He doesn’t have a single clue how to do any of this.

And then there’s the fact that he’s left (Y/N) alone to deal with all of this. Every first has been forever taken from him. First breath, first cry, first word, first steps. Every little thing.

Would she resent him for it? For not being there when it mattered?

So he ran. He came back and he ran.

She doesn’t deserve this and neither does (Y/N). They deserve so much better.

“ It’s time Buck. “ Steve speaks up as he leans against the porch railing next to his oldest friend.

“ Are you still sure about this? “ Bucky asks, not taking his eyes off of his girls. His stomach feels like he’s swallowed a bag of bricks. Life was supposed to be easier after Thanos. This isn’t easy. This is just scary. And sad.

“ That, “ Steve says and nods his head towards (Y/N) and the girl “ that’s your second chance. I gotta take mine. “

Bucky turns to look at his friend trying to figure out what to say next but coming up empty. What do you say to that? Steve deserves to be happy. He deserves to be where his heart always has been. Does it mean Bucky thinks it’s the right choice? Not necessarily. But he understands. Had it been him and (Y/N) he would’ve crossed time and space to be with her.

Which is ironic to think because now all he does is avoid her. Because that’s the coward he is.

“ Alright let’s go. I’ll grab Bruce you do — whatever you gotta do. “

He dares to send one last look towards (Y/N) and this time she’s looking back with a soft eye and a timid little smile on her lips. None of which he is deserving of.

Steve let's go of Sam, parting with one last friendly slap on the back before turning towards Bucky.

Bucky's throat feels dry and rough and while his head is swirling with words he wants to say, none of them really make it past his lips. He's known about Steve's idea for a few days now, has had time to let it settle and come to terms with it. It still breaks his heart but sometimes that's what you do for the people you love. You support them on their path to happiness even if it hurts you in the process.

"I'll miss you," Bucky finally manages to say and he wraps his arm around his friend's shoulder. "You'll always be my brother."

"I know. I'll miss you too. But I know you're in good hands." Steve responds and lets his gaze wander towards the house, no doubt talking about (Y/N) and the kid.

"Promise me something, Buck." He says as he pulls away.

"Anything."

"Talk to (Y/N) and get to know your daughter. She's a Barnes through and through. And she loves you so much, they both do. Let them. Love 'em back."

"Kid doesn't even know me," Bucky murmurs, nervously glancing at the floor.

"What? You really think that? Buck, all we did for the last 5 years was try to keep your memory alive. For us but especially for her. We showed her pictures and videos and (Y/N) told her so many stories. She knows you and she loves you and for the first time in her life, she's living in a world where her dad is alive and present. Go, be with them. You guys need each other."

He's right. Of course, he's right. Steve has this fantastic ability to be right when it matters.

“And don’t do anything stupid until I get back!” Steve adds, making a small smile appear on Bucky’s face.

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you. “

They embrace each other one last time before Bucky whispers another “I’ll miss you” and Steve tells him that “It’ll be okay, Buck”.

And then everything happens so fast. One moment he’s living in a world where his best friend is by his side and a minute later all of that has forever changed.

Bucky wipes his eyes with the back of his hand one last time before looking at himself in the mirror. He knew this moment was coming, Steve told him. He had time to come to terms with it and yet it’s a completely different situation now that it’s done. Parting with the only family you’ve ever known breaks your heart in ways you’ve never known are possible.

As he steps out of the bathroom something solid crashes against him and as he looks down, a pair of identical blue eyes stare back at him. He’s not been this close to her since he found out about her, keeping her at a distance. To protect her.

His arm was made to kill how could it ever hold a child and keep it safe?

She stares at him for a moment before a small “Hi” falls from her lips. It’s shy and timid and adorable and all Bucky wants to do is cuddle her to his chest and never let her go.

He doesn’t get the chance though as another little girl rushes past them and calls out to his daughter to follow her which she does.

“Who is that?” Bucky hears Morgan question.

“That’s my daddy, but I don’t think he wants to see me. Mommy says he needs time but —“

He doesn’t hear the rest of her words as the girls round the corner and get swallowed by the sounds of the other guests still mulling around sharing stories about their fallen hero.

But it’s enough. He doesn’t need to hear more. Those words are enough to rip his heart out of his rib cage, crush it up into a million little pieces, and spread it in the winds, never to be able to be put together ever again.

“Hey have you seen — oh Bucky are you okay?”

He doesn’t deserve her tenderness, her kindness, and her care, and yet she still exudes the same love she’s always held for him. Love he was never deserving of from the beginning.

It doesn’t matter at that moment though, who deserves what and who doesn’t. He’s too caught up in the breaking of his own heart. So he falls into her arms as silent tears slowly but surely make their way down his cheeks.

“She thinks I don’t want to see her.”

“Who does?” (Y/N) says as she gently combs her fingers through his long hair.

“My own daughter. “

(Y/N) pulls away slightly, holding onto his shoulders and looking deep into his eyes.

“Are you ready to talk about this now? Ready to stop avoiding me ?”

Bucky only nods and lets her lead him outside past the guests and down to the lake where it’s quiet and serene and life seems to slow down a little. She keeps holding on to his hand, his vibranium one, as they settle on a bench facing each other.

“ I missed you, Bucky.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

He’s been told those words so many times and it’s still hard to believe in them. Even when he knows they’re true. There will always be a hint of doubt since him. Always.

“I don’t — I don’t want her to think I don’t love her. Or want to be with her. I do love her very much. More than I have ever loved another person, including you, and you are my everything. I’m just overwhelmed and — and scared.” He admits. It’s the first time he says those words to anyone but himself. It feels good. It feels right. But it doesn’t take the fear away or the guilt.

“James, she knows you love her. Not a day went by that I didn’t tell her how much her daddy loves her and wants to be with us. And it’s okay to be scared. I was scared and I only had to deal with a baby, not an opinionated 4-year-old. It’s okay to be scared but you can’t let the fear hold you back. You’re the bravest man I know. You laugh in the face of danger. What changed?”

“Stakes are higher this time. What’s losing my life compared to ruining my daughter’s?”

“You’re not gonna ruin anyone’s life, Buck.” (Y/N) exclaims and softly pets the side of his face. She’s always been so gentle with him. Such a contrast to the touches he was used to.

“I don’t know the first thing about being a dad. Mine wasn’t a very good example. I have been trained to kill, to cause pain. My arm is a weapon.”

“Your arm has shielded me from bullets and harm so many times. It’s held me close at night and wipes my tears when I was sad. Your arm is only a weapon if you use it like that. And all the other stuff, that’s not you anymore. You know this. “

He can see the treads now welling in her eyes too and it makes his heart twist and constrict in many painful ways.

“And I left you alone during all of it. Missed the last 4 years of her life and the entire pregnancy. How am I gonna make up for that, for leaving you alone?”

It feels like once he’s started talking he can’t stop. All his fears and worries flow from his lips like tidal waves in an ocean. Crashing against the shore of truth.

“You didn’t leave us Bucky. You were taken from us. We never blamed you for that. I know you wanted to be there. I never doubted that for a second. Look, I had 9 months to come to terms with my fears, you didn’t have any time to face them. I get why you are freaking out but uh — it’s time to step up. You know what makes a good dad? Being there when he can be. Showing he cares. Can you do that?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I can.” Bucky promises and smiles a smile of content. One of hope. His fears and his guilt aren’t gone. But maybe if she believes in him and Steve does, maybe he can be the man and the father he needs to be.

“Good. We really do love you, Buck.”

“As in present tense?”

“Of course. We never stopped. Now can I ask one more thing of you?”

“What’s that?” In the end, it wouldn’t really matter. Whatever she asks he’ll do it. For her, he’ll do anything.

“Can you kiss me? I’ve been waiting for 5 years to finally kiss you again. I can’t hold out much longer. “

He grants her not one kiss, not two. In fact, he loses count as they get lost in many many loving kisses. Maybe, Bucky thinks, soulmates really are a thing. Maybe there are people on this earth meant to find each other. Meant to go through hardships together and still find their way back to one another in the end.

Whatever one chooses to believe in. Bucky is certain she is his person in this life and the next and through whatever might come their way.

He’s sitting on the big red couch in (Y/N)’s apartment, nervously fumbling with the tassels on one of the throw pillows as his eyes wander around the room. There are so many pictures, hung on the walls and placed on side tables and shelves. His child’s entire life up to now, caught on film for him to relive if only in his mind.

There are pictures of him too. One of him and Steve in the 40s, laughing and leaning against each other in support. (Y/N) always said it was one of her favorites. “You’re so happy in it. That’s how happy I want you to be all the time.” She’s told him once.

Next to a picture of (Y/N) and their daughter is a picture of him. He’s sure it’s placed there deliberately. To remind everyone he is a part of this family, even when he wasn’t there.

He is here now though. The next picture put up will be one of all three of them.

The front door opens and a melody of voices echoes through the place. (Y/N)’s laughter and the sweet giggle of his little girl. It’s his favorite sound in the world, he decided then and there. Nothing will ever compare.

The girl rushes into the room then comes to an abrupt stop in front of him.

“Hi,” she says in the same small voice as she did at the Stark’s house. Only this time Bucky doesn’t just stand and stare at her, unable to move or speak.

This time he holds out his arms and speaks up.

“Hi, I — I'm sorry it has taken me so long. I don’t know what I was thinking. I love you, Darling. Can I hug you?”

She doesn’t say yes or no, doesn’t glance at his vibranium arm with hesitance of fear. She falls right into him, wrapping her little arms around his neck and cuddling into his chest. It feels like this is where she belongs, like this is where she was always meant to be. Like his arms were made to hold her and never let go. And maybe, Bucky thinks, maybe they were.

“I love you too, daddy.”

He liked being a sergeant. It’s a title that has always filled him with pride. It has nothing on the title of being a dad. That one means so much more. Fills him with a pride and love he’s never previously known.

For the next few moments, he gets lost in the feeling of holding his child. A perfect little girl who is part of him. The good. Only the good. It all comes together in her. No nightmares or guilt or fears. Only love. So much love. He holds her close to his heart, wishing he could’ve done this when she was just a baby. Feel her heart beat in rhythm with his. He places little kisses up and down her small face. On her chubby little cheeks and her cute bottom nose, making her scrunch it up and let out soft giggles.

It’s strange to be the man he is and act so gently with another human being. But it feels so right.

His eyes find (Y/N)’s across the room, filled with tears though this time they are happy ones. With an outreached hand he beckons her over and pulls her onto the couch and into the hug.

This is right. Nothing has ever felt this real. This happy. This perfect.

His girls cuddle into him with nothing but love filling their hearts. This is the life he wants, the one he has always wanted. The life he fought for. The life he will never stop fighting for.

Steve was wrong. They aren’t his second chance.

They’re his only chance.

His destiny.

His family.

His home.

TAGLIST: @stayherefor-evermore - @booksb4looksstuff - @captainofallfandoms - @charmed-asylum

#bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes x female reader #Bucky Barnes x f!reader #buck barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagines #marvel imagine #james barnes x reader #James Barnes x female reader #james barnes x f!reader

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