I Don’t Mean To Sound Like A Bitch But I’m Genuinely Clueless And It Might Be Because I Don’t Create

ghosts

—CHAPTER TWO: little things

pairing: Javier Peña x f! reader

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a/n: a little look back in time, a little insight into what’s going on, a lot of pain and angst but maybe some hope ? these two a easily carving out a place in my heart, I hope y’all are as invested as I am bc there is def more to come

Falling in love with Javier had happened pretty fast. 

It wasn’t the exact moment you saw him, but it may as well have been. 

There was a gorgeous kind of levity to him as he hid his laughter behind the neck of the bottle of beer dangling so casually from his grip, a beautiful kind of stoicism to him as the mood around the table died off and the blonde man sat beside him pulled himself to his feet, tossed a few bills down and shuddered him with a sturdy hit to the shoulder. He surveyed the crowd out of what seemed to be genuine curiosity, scanning the field just like all the single men seemed to be, but there was a reverence in the delicious color of his deep eyes, something you didn’t know how to quantify as they landed on you. There was a depth to him that words could just never come close to describing. 

Maybe it would have saved you a lot of hurt if you had turned away the second you caught sight of him across the bar, but even at his worst, even as you cradled yourself, desperate for warmth beneath the thick woven stitch of the dark tones of the afghan blanket thrown over your shoulders, you couldn’t really imagine doing it different. 

No one made you grab your glass and meet him at the bar. It was all you. 

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In my silence I adored you

*Avenger's Tower Fanfic*

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Hey girl, what-cha doing down there? Dancing alone while I live right above you; I can hear your music playing; I can feel your body swaying

It didn't take a super soldier to hear the music that came out of your apartment. However, the one above you did understand the lyrics, not like most of the others that lived in the tower. He didn't mind it, sometimes, it became a soothing thing when the nightmares woke him up. The vibrations of the music and lyrics gave him was a micro-confirmation that he was no longer in the Soviet Union. No longer trapped under any ice.

"Okay, but how come you can't go one day without it?" Sam asked about your music during breakfast. You shrugged, "I have my space. It mostly stays in my space. Just like Redwing." Bucky snickered. Sam slightly aggressively turned towards his best friend-enemy man. "You live above her! What are your thoughts?" Bucky was slightly started by the question. "I-I don't mind it." You stuck your tongue out at Sam, putting your dishes in sink, and walked away. "You said you only like forties music." Sam accused as soon as you were out of ear shot. Bucky avoided eye contact before he cleared his throat, "I have to train with Steve."

One floor below me, you don't even know me, I love you

When that and a combination of other things didn't work, keep falling back into night terrors, Bucky would sit in front of his glass windows, curtains pulled back. At first, his eyes would wander the city lights. Eventually, his eyes would shift down below and see your shadow swaying and dancing to the music that was nearly never ending. It was a constant, consistency made reality easier to believe in. You were starting to become that in Bucky's word, even though you never would've known. He never mentioned it.

If you look out your window tonight, pulling the string with the note that's attached to my heart; Read how many times I saw you, how in my silence I adored you.

Sure, Bucky and you met occasionally during missions and Avengers' (aka Tony Stark's) parties. However, neither of you ever got beyond glances, brief introductions, and the incredibly rare argument-- sorry polite conversation-- that Steve, Sam, or Nat would drag the pair of you into. Both of you would roll your eyes at the dragger and their "opponent." Plus, the pair of you would almost always be against whatever Sam was arguing. Bucky appreciated the team effort from you. You were also a bit of a history buff which sometimes led to his ears pricking up to some type of familiarity that he could confidently nod along with or it would help him connect the dots with events that didn't include the Winter Soldier.

It took one of these little rantings of knowledge you had, Steve and Sam saw the captivated look that Bucky distantly gave you. They both also knew it wasn't just the words coming out of your mouth that Bucky was interested in, either. The pair of men shared an look. They knew their mission.

"Alright boys, it's been fun." You said getting up, heading towards your apartment. "Don't have too much fun without me." You waved as you hit the stairs.

The duo of men encircled Bucky. "You have a problem." Same stated as if it was obvious and something much worse than actuality. "Sam-" Steve tried to soften the blow. "No, he is in love with that girl and he hasn't said more than five words to her." Sam insisted. Bucky gave them both a confused stare. "Y/n, Buck, we can tell." Steve cleared up. Bucky's face went to complete denial. "No, I don't."

"Those eyes you gave her earlier tell a different story, Buck." Steve softly argued. Bucky groaned and put his hands in his face. "So what if I do? She's living a happy life...why.....why should I enter it more just to ruin it?" Sam and Steve gave each other soft looks. However, both of them were not going to give up that easily. "You're different now. You've said it yourself, you're not the Winter Soldier anymore." Sam stated. "Even if that's true...who said that she's going to....want me back." Doubt filled Bucky's entire body and mind. The pair of men were not going to change his mind in one night.

Only in my dreams did that wall between us come apart

Another night, Bucky added to looking down at your shadow. He wanted to go down and dance with you. Over seventy years ago, Bucky wouldn't waste another second to do. He would've swept you off your feet, literally. He would hold you close during the slower songs, inhaling your scent. Softly kissing your forehead, cheeks, lips... Bucky heavily sighed out loud, walking away from the window.

Oh my darlin', knock three times on the ceiling if you want me; twice on the pipe if the answer is no.

Sam and Steve showed up at your door. You gave them both a confused. "Come in...stop lurking at my door." You responded, letting them in. "So, how long have you liked Bucky?" Sam got straight to the point. You scoffed and slouched in one of your chairs. "Who said-" "Y/n, you never mentioned your knowledge about your so-called fascination with the 1930s before your first mission with him." Steve confronted you. You shrugged, "A girl can learn new things." Sam rolled his eyes. "They're both impossible, Steve." You sat up a little. "What do you mean by both of us?" For the third time that night, Sam and Steve shared a smirk and an idea.

Oh my sweetness *knock, knock, knock* means you'll meet me in the hallway; twice on the pipe *clang, clang* means you ain't gonna show*

You hummed the song you left playing in your room as you approached Bucky's door. You took a deep breath before knocked with the beat that Bucky could perfectly hear from your apartment below. He hesitantly answered. Then saw you, a small smile etched across his face. "It means that I want you, and that I want to meet you in the hallway-- granted next time it'll be on the ceiling but-" Your breath of words was stopped short by Bucky pulling you into his apartment.

~~ Sam looked at Steve, stifling a laugh, "There isn't really a pipe for her to say no to."

Hey so I’m hyped that Trump’s gone and all but let’s just remember that things don’t magically get better from here on out - we have to keep working for them.

Keep supporting blm.

Keep protecting trans kids.

Keep welcoming immigrants. 

Keep defending marriage equality.

Keep believing women.

Keep working to make our society more fair, just, and accepting of all.

the long way around - epilogue

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader Rating: M Word count: 2,930 Notes: We’ve finally made it to the epilogue! I’ve loved the feedback on this fic and I want to thank everyone who’s left a comment on it. I hope you love this concluding part as much as I do! The immersive Van Gogh exhibit is a real exhibit that I highly recommend going to, it’s beautiful. Reblogs appreciated! Warnings: Non-descriptive sexual content, swearing, food mention, feelings 

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It's March 2021.

Breonna Taylor was murdered by the police on March 13, 2020.

Breonna Taylor has not received justice.

okay but, 

imagine your on the Crest, laying in Dins bed, having the worst period cramps. Your surrounded by his scent, the pillows, the blankets-everything smells like him. Grogu watched you from his nest above Din’s bed, with a worried expression before crying out, getting Din’s attention. 

You could hear his clanky footsteps scurrying your way, groaning at the thought of having to interact with this, grogeous man. The door opens, “Is everything okay? I heard Grogu crying” Grogu turned his head at the mention of his name, and pointed to you. 

Maker, you were still getting used to his unmodulated voice. So sweet and silky, and his face- it was perfect. With his whiskey brown eyes, fluffy hair, and beard you fantasized being betweem your legs-no! Stop this, it’s not like you could do anything about it considering your predicament. 

You were brought out of your daze by a hand on your forehead. “Yeah, it seems you’ve got a fever sweetheart.” Din said with a frown. He was feeling your cheeks and neck to feel the temprature difference, You could hear him talking and Grgu’s babble but-you were to distracted by his hands. Those hands that could reach depthes inside you that no other human has reached. Hands that could, grab, and squeeze and-

“Cy’rika? Are you okay?” You shook your head out, meeting his eyes. He didn’t say anything, just took Grogu out and walked away for a moment. For that you were thankful, he was making it very hard to breathe. You needed to get yourself under control, he doesn’t like you like that, even if he did, there was nothing you could do about it. You didn’t get to think anymore before another painful cramp hit you, and Din had walked back over. 

“hey I put the kid back in his-ad’ika? What happened are you okay?” He asks as he see’s you, fetal position, groaning in pain. 

“Yeah Din I’m-goooooods-I’m fine just some cramps is all.” You could see his head tilt, in that adorable, confused puppy look.  “Oh well uh-is there anything I could do to help?” You laughed. “yeah, you could get me pregnant and then I wouldn’t have to deal with this for 9 months.” You said in a joking tone. You knew he would never go for it, I mean, you? Having a family with that-god of a man? No, that would never-

“Okay” You abruptly sat up. “What?” 

“Okay” You were puzzled. 

“Okay what Din?”

“Okay, I’ll put a baby in you.”

oh fuck.

no one:

my kidnapper returning me after listening to me talk about Pedro Pascal for three hours:

If none of them married, how desperate would the Bennett girls actually have been?

Well the only dowry they have is £50 apiece from their mother’s small inheritance, per year; so that’s a total of £250 generated by Mrs. Bennet’s inherited investments per annum.

The Dashwoods (four women) are living on £500 a year when they are forced to live in Barton Cottage (with good-will making the rent presumably ridiculously low thanks to Sir John Middleton’s good nature, to say nothing of all the dinners and outings he invites the ladies to, which will help them economize on housekeeping costs for heavier meals.)

So there would be six Bennet women left to live on half as much as the Dashwoods are barely scraping by on. £250 is roughly considered enough to keep ONE gentleman at a barely-genteel level of leisure (presuming he does not keep a horse or estate or have any major expenses beyond securing his own lodgings/clothes/meals at a level becoming of a gentleman.)

None of the Bennet girls have been educated well enough for them to be governesses to support themselves, so…yes, their situation would heavily rely on mega-charity from others to just help them survive, much less maintain them in the lifestyle they’ve been accustomed to. The Dashwood women have NO social life beyond the outings provided by Sir John and the offer of Mrs. Jennings to host the older girls in London–otherwise they’d be stuck in their cottage, meeting absolutely no eligible men, creating a cycle of being poor and unmarried and too poor to meet anyone with money they could marry.

If the Bennet girls don’t at least have ONE of them marry well enough to help the rest before their father dies, they are really, truly, deeply fucked.

They may joke about beautiful Jane being the saviour of the family, but…it’s true. Mr. Bennet failed his daughters several times over in A) presuming he’d have a son, B) not saving money independently from his income to support his family after his death when it became clear he wasn’t going to have a son, C) not educating them well enough to enable them to support themselves in even in the disagreeable way of being a governess, D) not making any effort to escort his daughters to London or even local assemblies to help their matrimonial chances because he just doesn’t feel like it, E) throwing up his hands and shrugging when faced with the crises of Mr. Collins and Wickham.

Much as we are relieved on a romantic level that Mr. Bennet’s support of Elizabeth saves her from parental pressure to accept Mr. Collins, Mrs. Bennet is NOT A DICK for pushing for the match, because on a material level it very much means they get to KEEP THEIR HOUSE and gain a connection to the powerful patron Lady Catherine de Bourgh, which could be VERY advantageous for the other unmarried girls.

And the scandal of Wickham very nearly scuppers the chances of ANY of the other girls, and Wickham is a further DRAIN on the family finances, not a man who is going to substantially be able to support them. It is SUCH a disaster, and of course there’s not much Mr. Bennet can do until they are found, but he’s away in London and doing…what, exactly? Mr. Gardiner takes over and manages everything and Mr. Bennet seems happy to just let him.

Mr. Bennet does the ABSOLUTE LEAST, and actively damages his children’s futures by his inaction AND by his one action to support Lizzie’s individual needs being prioritized over the collective gain, which…I mean, Lizzie is going to be JUST as homeless and destitute as her sisters when he dies, so much good being Dad’s Favourite is going to do her. :/

Sunshine

Pairing: Jack Whiskey Daniels x gn!reader

Rating: PG-13 for character death

Warnings: character death, angst, pain (I know it’s all the same but you need to be super warned)

Word Count: 516

Author’s Notes: This just happened one day. I was sad and welp here it is. Enjoy and feedback is always welcomed. Gif credit to @pascalisthepunkest​ Also to my tag list I hope it is okay I tagged you all in this. If you want to opt out on future angst of this level let me know and if you want to be tagged in any future fics please let me know!

  Jack heard the familiar melody being hummed through the cracked door of his home office. He smiled slightly to himself at the sound the song you constantly picked to hum or sing when you did things around the house. If any other song failed you it was always there to fill your mind and the shared home. Jack slowly got up and quietly stepped to see you in the kitchen your hums now words as you worked on dinner. He was stealthy as he came up behind you and let his voice join yours as he wrapped his arms around you. The two of you swayed around the kitchen singing the song to one another before ending it with a kiss.

  All too many times this had happened. Jack bought you things with the lyrics engraved or printed across it. It has more or less became your song. The one the two of you seemed to now share. Your mother had sang it to you, you now shared it to him and one day he prayed he would get to sing it to your children. Life sometimes doesn’t work that way.

    The pain was all too much for Jack too bare but he had to hang on for you. He had to look into your eyes one last time and see your beautiful face. The thought of leaving you alone in the world made him fight all the more harder ever though he already knew.

Your phone had dropped to the floor, you had never rushed around so fast and drove so fast with absolutely no care. You ran as quick as you could, shaking and on the verge of sickness. This wasn’t happening. No. He couldn’t be ripped away from you not yet. Not when you had your whole lives ahead of you. You were just getting started.

Eyes full of sorrow watched you as you slowly walked into the room. There he was and you knew the second you saw him. The tears bubbled up and spilled down your cheeks. You let yourself let out a few sobs at his still form. His chest still rose and feel but just barley. The heart monitor at a slow beep. The rest of the room was excused to give the two of you your last moments together. You climbed onto the bed without hesitation and you pulled Jack into your arms. You were careful not to hurt him. His head feel to your chest and his eyes fluttered open. You held him and he reached up to grasp at you. You started to sing.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine

You make me happy when skies are grey

You’ll never know dear how much I love you

Please don’t take my sunshine away.”

As you sang the last line the heart monitor went into a long beep and he slipped away from you. You sat there and sobbed as you held him. You kept try to sing to him like it would bring him back but it never would. Your sunshine had been taken away.

Tagged: @jimmythegirl​ @arcadianempress​ @discogrrl​ @immundusspiritu​ @someplace-darker​ @thisis-theway​ @ohpedromypedros-main​ @scribbledghost​ @on-the-razor-crest​ @fioccodineveautunnale​ @spookyold-saintjm​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​ @princess-and-pedro​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @littlevodka​ @mack4676​ @perropascal​ @prettyboyskywalker​ @all-hallows-evie​ @the-mandalorian-clone-lover

insp.