if Gojo could describe the love he held for you, he'd say it would be like the ones you see in the movies.
The ones where the camera's all unstable, with the main characters running hand in hand on the beach with the sun setting across the horizon. The ones with the fireworks exploding in the background while the main characters are too busy looking at each other, realizing just how much love exists between their two mortal bodies.
It's the kind of love that achesâthe kind that kills him everytime.
He sees you and everything else turns into useless blurrs. He hears your laugh and all his body can really feel is the warmth of your hand on his skin because believe it or not, you are his soulâhis very essence.
He loves you so much it fills him with dread. The love he holds has thorns, but how could it really hurt him when the petals are grazing against his fingers so lovinglyâso gently like it was meant to be cut and thrown into his embrace.
He looks at you, and it hurts. It hurts because he knows it will never be a happy ending. This poor delicate flower in his hands, one he wishes to keep foreverâto love and to care for, to hold and to love until the end cannot have her happy ending because fate will never allow him to rest.
Each time you wear something white and turn to him with this gentleness that strips him vulnerable down to the very core of his being, he imagines you in your wedding dress, with that smile that wrecks him down and crushes his bones.
He cries and holds your hand, this miseryâthis despair turning his beating heart into ashes.
"I can't give you a wedding." The strongest murmurs, his tears spilling onto the ground with an echo only he can hear. "I can't build a family for us. I can'tâ"
He takes a moment to breathe. To ground himself back onto earth.
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Crosshair stared across the barren landscape. He was only separated from his brothers by a distance of 100 m., but they may as well have been on other sides of the galaxy.
No one moved.
No one spoke.
Even Wrecker, who always had something to say, just stared and his face conveyed more emotion than Crosshair ever remembered seeing there before.
And, where was Tech?
And, Echo?
A sinking feeling entered his gut to realize half the batch was missing. He'd worked so hard to kill his brothers and now he wanted nothing more than to see all of them alive and together once again.
alright guys so this is a little something for y'all while i take the time to perfect my stories. this is emotional & pure as fuck. i almost cried writing this. much love! đ€
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holding your billy close to your chest, you could not help but let the tears fall from your eyes. he was beaten, sobs wracking his toned chest and blood covering his face.
if you could kill neil hargrove without facing any jail time, the deed would have been done a very long time ago. he single handedly ruined any chance of happiness for billy, and became the face of his own son's nightmares.
"i don't know what the fuck i did to him. i don't know why he hates me so much." billy sobbed. you can't answer the question he's been dying to have answered. you can't tell him why his father became bitter, heartless, and cruel.
you can only hold him as close to you as possible, and play with those beautiful curls knowing that it soothes him and keeps him grounded in that moment. why did this have to happen nearly every night?
you were tired. tired of seeing the light of your life in pain, and anguish that only you knew about. tired of acting like everything is alright when it's clearly not. you wanted him to live a life of happiness. it's what your billy deserves and you are the only one to see that in this shithole town.
so, you made your mind up, right then and there. he was going start living with you from this day forward.
if that monster wasn't going to show him tender love and care, then you would do it. you would do anything for the boy who was currently wrapped up in your arms.
"you're moving in with me. tomorrow, we are getting your things from the house and you're coming back here.. with me." you declared, knowing that neil would never ever lay his hands on max, in fear of ruining his marriage with the only woman that is dumb enough to stay with him.
"this is my problem, baby. i am not going to push any of this bullshit onto you more than i already have. because this is my fault. if i wasn't such a fuck-"
you grabbed his handsome face gently, showing that it's not your intention to harm him but also not wanting this little speech to continue, because he was wrong. he was so wrong about himself and it really upset you.
billy had tried to flinch away from you, tried to avoid eye contact with you, but you wouldnt let him this time. you wanted him to hear this and understand it completely. it was breaking your heart in half to see him so broken.
"billy, baby, look at me. this is not your fault. do not think for one second that you deserve this. you are smart, you are funny, you are loving, and you are compassionate. i'd give you the whole world if i could, because guess what? i believe in you my love. i want you to know that you are not your father." you concluded, watching the tears fall.
billy has never in his life heard those words.. not even from his mother. who had left him in the dust without caring about what could happen to him.
he could not help but cry over your speech, he could not help but thrust his body towards you and hug you with a strength that was unbeknownst to even him.
because for the first time in his entire eighteen years of life, william hargrove felt unconditional safety and love.
4:08 Peter: Hey Ned, itâs me, Peter. Guess what just happened?!?!?! I came home from school and you know how I got my suit taken away by Mr. Stark? Well, turns out, he returned it to me! I walked in my room and there it was, sitting in the middle of my bed in a paper bag. It was signed, âThis belongs to you. -T.S.â I canât believe he let me have it back!!! Okay, Iâll see you later to finish that Death Star! Iâm going out for a swing. And before you ask, I guess Iâm kind of an Avenger now :)
4:10 Ned: WHOAAAAA DUDEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THATâS SO SO COOL WOW!!! Hey could you do something cool and send it to me with the suit on?! Also...what is it like being an âinternâ to Mr. Stark? Catch ya later for the Death Star.
Short little drabble that came to mind yesterday, because now theyâve given us the potential for something like this...well maybe not my extra little add, but itâs my fic so I can have my secret marriage.
A03 - https://archiveofourown.org/works/11964951
âTake him and get out of here!â The demand is harsh but quiet through the earpiece.
My jaw locks and I let out a frustrated huff of air, pressing to activate my line, âIâm trying, but there are a thousand other people trying to go out the same exits, so this is as fast as we can go.â I grab Williamâs wrist and pull him over towards the staff access doors, âThis way, there should be another-â
A gunshot roars through the room and time seems to drag.
Before anyone else can react exactly what Oliver wanted to avoid starts rolling into motion. âDAD!â Williamâs scream is piercing, and I look up in time to see Oliverâs hooded form freefalling for another second before grabbing onto the rope, favoring the side of his body where the Kevlar is exposed under shredded cloth. The asshole of the week narrows a calculated glare at us.
Son of a bitch! I practically drag him as he tries to stay rooted to the spot, âMove!â
âWho is this young man calling the Green Arrow, âDadâ?â Of course the press wouldnât miss that, would they. I hit at the camera shoved into our faces, pulling him tighter.
âKeep your face covered, donât say anything to them. You have to move now!â I can feel his shoulders shaking and weaving us past more of those stupid vultures  I dip my head down and whisper into his ear, âHeâs fine, he caught the rope, youâll see him in a couple hours. I swear it to you, but we have to get out of here so he can stop worrying about us as much as we worry about him and focus on what heâs doing.â My concern is split between the man who I know can take care of himself and the young man who is rightly terrified that heâs going to lose another parent.
âFelicity Smoak, is this your son?â I donât answer, just shed my coat so William can drape it over himself as I demand. âIs he the Green Arrowâs child as he claims? Whatâs your name son?â
A service elevator is two doorframes and forty feet in front of, if the design of this place makes any sense, us as they follow. âGet the button.â He dashes ahead and presses, clicking sounds like a gamer reach back here while I block the press from following us with the door.
A chime, âItâs here!â
âWhere should we go?â I demand into the earpiece.
âUp!â âDown!â
Come on guys! âSomeone give us an escape!â
âGo up, you can go two buildings over on the scaffolding then the van will be around the corner.â
I knock over a cart as I dash into the elevator cab, William is frantic at the close door option, with the addition of my one press of the top floor button. The camera guys trip but one reporter almost makes it, the doors barely sealing before he can get in.
âDam-!â Wait, young ears! âDarn it!â My attempt at recovering is weak.
His hair, grown shaggy in the past couple months hangs down over his eyes as he stares at the floor, âIâm sorry.â There are tear tracks down his cheeks.
âOh, no, no-no-no, not you! Youâre doing great, we just need to get away from here before anyone catches up.â We make it across and down, though I have to ditch the heels after they catch in the metal grating and I donât have time to focus on being careful.
True to form, Oliver shows back at the new, spare, Arrow Cave an hour later, bruised but relatively unharmed. He strides in fast, looking around. âWilliam?!â We all point in the same direction and he is met halfway there in a crushing hug. âAre you hurt?â He already knows the answer, having been on the comms with us as soon as he had a chance and then after getting the necessities out of the way spending the whole his ride back here on the line with William.
The kid just shakes his head, the muffled response not intended for us, nor are the reassurances Oliver gives.
We are going to have a problem though. A big problem. The feed was live, and already itâs taking off on social media. Now thereâs speculation that not only is he Son of the Green Arrow, but theyâre also taking my proximity and defensiveness to be that I, accurately, am helping the Green Arrow, and just as worrying, though inaccurate and offensive, that he is the Bastard Love Child of Felicity Smoak and the Green Arrow. The dedicated have even started trying to mock up what âhis fatherâ would look like based on the blurry image they got of him, removing my features and combining them with the few questionable captures of Oliverâs masked and hooded face. Theyâve already tried combining my face with Oliver, and Ray, trying to see if either of those match. They donât. Thankfully.
I can see from the building feed that theyâre already circling my building and my home, just waiting for the possibility that I might return there tonight. âNo Mom. Mom, no. No! That is a terrible idea.â I roll my eyes at the ceiling, tempted to hang up and blame the connection. âYou think they wonât be showing up at your doorstep next?â She doesnât listen, just continues to try and convince me to bring William out to visit her, or let her fly in. Thank all the secrets in the world that she doesnât know that at this point heâs my sonâŠstep-sonâŠfamily. He doesnât either so I canât quite figure out how to refer to him in my mind without mixing it up because weâve never talked about what he would want me to call him. He just lost his mother, he doesnât need to think of me as the person swooping in to steal that position in his life, heâs having a hard enough time finding out Oliver is his hero.
Who would have thought one three letter word could threaten to expose Oliver as the Green Arrow, that he has a secret child, and that weâre married?
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He looked over at his girlfriend, who was currently dancing to music and drinking Gatorade. He turned back around and before he knew it, she had spilt the drink on her shirt and the rug of their shared apartment. Her boyfriend sighed as he walked to the kitchen to grab some paper towels. As he walked back, he noticed her still singing until he grabbed her hand and asked for some help. The girl nodded and started cleaning up the mess. Her boyfriend turned to look at her and gave her a short but sweet kiss. As they pulled away, she chuckled as her boyfriend sighed and looked at her. âThatâs disgusting, Youâre lucky youâre cute.â
Short fragment of a fic Iâm trying to pull together. Posting helps motivate me to actually keep working at it so this is just the first of the four pages Iâve cobbled together from a couple images that popped into my mind...though Iâm kinda thinking Iâll work the Halloween/cosplaying as Rose/Ten/Tentoo I have a few paragraphs on as the start rather than beginning with this. So many options...Â
Scanning my eyes back over the crowd, I try to figure out why doing that the first time sent a crawling wave of unease through me. Happy or bored people, a scattered bit of applause and laughter as Oliver hints at a joke.
Theyâve taken it surprisingly well, like it was the whole cityâs inside secret or wink-wink-nudge-nudge-joke that only the oblivious didnât know, when, courtesy of Chaseâs multi-level-deep backup plans, the press painted the scandal that Oliver is the Green Arrow. More than anything there was a collective âmeh.â Of course there were the denouncers, decrying that there was any way Oliver could possibly be a masked hero, photoshops done over the years to make it seem ridiculous, or the strangers they insist have to be âThe Real Green Arrow.â The candid photos someone somehow got of him shirtless, from who knows where, but I can see itâs recent, shut most of them up. The damage to his body isnât something you get by being Mayor. Iâm sure when he was first accused of being a vigilante it surprised them, the second, then third time though⊠There!
William gives a startled yelp as I yank him towards me while gasping his dadâs name. The small dot leaves the center of his chest, stops glinting off the zipper on his jacket, as time slows. There is a thunderous noise, at least in my mind, and the glass window that was behind the boy is a glittering, crumbling spider web.
Someone screams, and another too loud sound starts to echo, then everything bursts into chaotic noise.
The momentum, the centrifugal force is too much, William starts going past. I grip tighter, pulling as hard as I can to move him so heâll end up behind me by the time Oliver will get in front of both of us. His arc is broken when he suddenly slams backwards against my chest with a sharp pained cry that pierces rest of the noise. NO! We crash backwards through the broken glass.
âNO!â Oliverâs breathless denial feels like it takes minutes to hear, not fractions of a second.
Not beta read (not even spell/grammar checked or read over, just a straight transcription from a stack of sticky notes), last bit I had followed down the stream of consciousness path...
I am woken by a voice against my ear. âI hear you wish to wed my husband.â
Blearily I open my eyes, âNyssa?â Sheâs ok. If sheâs ok, the othersâŠ
âI will say he and I share our taste in blondes.â She gives a feral smile. âYou remind me of Sara when we first met, almost a childlike innocence. Lips press against my cheek in what can only be taken as a threatening kiss. âIf you hurt him You Will answer to me. The league may be disbanded, but there is nowhere in this world we will not find youâŠand you know the thing about assassins?â She continues through my wheezing, still noisy even if it feels so much less like Iâm drowning out of water than before I slept. âWe know how to kill fast, but we also know how to drag it out. This I promise you.â She ghosts a finger down my forehead, over my nose, across my lips, ignoring the coughing, âKeeping you alive will be no mercy.â
âNyssa, what are you doing in here?â Oliver! His footsteps are solid and have him right next to us.
âJust discussing how we plan to take our bride to the marriage bed.â She says it with a smile.
He frowns.
I keep coughing out my lungs.
âNyssaâŠâ
Her response is just as succinct, âHusband.â I know he got it annulled before we even got to Ivy Town. Sheâs just doing it to get a rise. Sheâs pissed about something, why does that include me?
âPlease find somewhere else to be.â A politely phrased demand, with all the anger his quiet voice can intone, while placing himself between the pair of us, brushing a hand over mine.
When we are alone I manage to rasp, âWhyâs she angry with me?â
âSheâs angry with me.â
âWhy?â
âI had to choose, and I chose one over many.â He runs a hand across his jaw, looking anywhere but at me, starting to pace the room.
âWhat?â
âHe gave me a choice, everyone or William.â
âYou chose your son. Of course.â I state the obvious fact, waiting for the reason sheâs pissed. His head droops, still not looking at me. âWhy are you acting like you were wrong? Heâs the only one who didnât choose this life.â I have to catch my breath for a second, âYou made the right decision.â
His shoulders slump ever so slightly.
âOliver Jonas Queen, you made the correct choice!â
âNot everyone survived.â
Who?! No! No, donât ask! Itâs not real until⊠I canât move over to him, âOh Oliver⊠come here.â I scoot over, making just enough space on the small bed for him if we both lay on our sides. Pushing wires out of the way I wait only long enough for him to reluctantly lay down, facing me, before wrapping him in a hug. âYou made the right choice.â
His face buries in my hair, hair that I realize was washed and let down at some point while I was asleep. The small trembles of his body, the grieving he will always hide from everyoneâŠI just keep reassuring him, because itâs the truth. He made the right choice in a seemingly impossible decision.