#my fingers are red and purple and numb/painful and my parents don’t give a fuck so that’s fun

[raeathnos]

.

#I am having a day 🙃 #once again are the holidays fucking over yet? #not having a good time #also I went outside for less than two minutes and got frostbite on my hands so everyone stay safe out there #my fingers are red and purple and numb/painful and my parents don’t give a fuck so that’s fun #typing this is fun #it’s dropped 30 degrees in two hours here and the windchill is supposed to go down to -20 #its fucken wimdy #and fucken cold #idk how I’m supposed to cook with my hands like this #and my parents are complaining about it too of course🙃 #all the places we used to buy our food stopped making it so I am making everything from scratch by myself #which is like I’m probably going to be cooking until I go to bed #and I’m getting attitude and treated like shit and made fun of so #idk #you’re welcome for making all the foods you guys were sad about missing? #I am feeling some things lads #I do not like the holidays #makes me feel small and insignificant #makes me feel like I did when I was a kid #like I don’t matter and I’m a burden and that they’d be happier if they never fucking had me #I liked Christmas cause presents until I was like 3 and then it became a bad holiday for me and it’s stayed that way #I’d trade every gift I’ve ever gotten just to like idk #I don’t want to say be a normal family but #maybe for them to be nicer and all that #darkest part of the year indeed #😞

[kiatheinsomniac]

Unwoven Fate VIII

"Templar spy!"

She knew better than to escape his grip: it could only make her look guilty.

"Stop this, now!" Ezio exclaimed, looking around at all of the recruits. "You," pointing to Anna, "give that here and you-" now pointing to Emilio, "-get up." He took the broach from Anna and sat down at the table with the pigeon cage.

"(Y/n), come here and explain yourself." It took her a moment to realise that Emilio was off her now and she could actually lift herself from the floor, the shock of the attack just clearing up. She took a seat on the bench opposite him, watching him push her aunt's broach across the table before her. "Why do you have a templar pin?"

She had been told that the Templar's symbol was a red cross during her training but knowing that the Pope was one too had led her to assume it was a cross shaped like the church's one. She had not actually thought to check that she was right in believing this.

"I thought the Templar cross would be shaped like Christ's. My aunt gave me. . ." She felt all of her guts drop inside of her body, fingers beginning to tremble as realisation dawned on her, her lips quivering with a loss for words. Emilio was yelling at her now, she wasn't too sure what, his words less important than her current train of thought.

Suddenly so many things fit together. She had wanted answers but she didn't want this. She wanted a different answer. She ran in her head all of the other possible alternatives but none of them fit as well as what was staring her in the face. That feeling was back now: that pain of such hurt and betrayal that it felt physical, like her organs being torn from her chest.

That goddamn broach.

"-And she's going to get us all killed!" She finally heard Emilio who had slammed his fist down on the table next to her.

"Stop fucking yelling at me!" She finally snapped, whipping her head around to scream this at him, making everyone in the room jump. Her eyes were tearing up now and she realised that she had stood when she yelled.  She struggled to keep her breaths even as she glanced back down to that broach, snatching it up in her hands and storming towards the stairs again.

"(Y/n), get back here!" Ezio called but she ignored him. She had learned that she could make irrational decisions when she was this upset; she had got lucky in running away but this time she could make the wrong choice and she wanted to avoid that. She needed to be away from questioning glares and the yelling of the recruits like Emilio.

Said recruit then grabbed her arm to prevent her from leaving but she kicked his legs out from under him, sending him winded to the floor this time. She broke out in a run, feeling the tears pool in her eyes as she made her way to the north-western part of the city.

It was sundown by the time she finally stopped. She had been running and running for hours, feeling her feet blister and her muscles burn. She didn't want to stop running over Rome's roofs, didn't want to give herself a moment to think, to feel.

When she finally stopped, the last rays of sunlight were slipping down over the horizon. Rich pinks and purples drowned out the final burning orange rays of the sun, themselves being smothered by a black sky that was dotted with stars and patched with thin clouds.

She finally collapsed atop some ruins, looking down at those left in what remained of the Roman bathhouse. She panted for breath, feeling her sweat make her clothes stick to her uncomfortably. She brought her legs up to her chest, suppressing the urge to cry out, to scream so loud that her family in the Tuscan countryside could hear it. Instead, she broke out sobbing.

Her parents had been Assassins, this she knew for a while now. But suddenly so many things made sense. All of her uncle's meetings in his office full of red-crossed banners, the reason why her aunt ordered for (Y/n)'s parents to be killed, why her mother had lied about her past.

Her mother had been born to a family of Templars and fell in love with an Assassin. She had left her family and joined her lover in his battle to protect free will. She felt the need to lie to the rest of the Brotherhood about her past in order to protect herself from suspicion when her loyalties had truly shifted. Her aunt had ordered their murder because she was a Templar who had to get rid of the Assassins who would stand in her way because Emma knew everything about them. It was kill or be killed.

The war between Assassin and Templar had killed her family. Not class prejudice - not a dispute between sisters - war had killed her parents.

She smeared her tears from her cheeks and eyes, feeling some gathered at her chin. She no longer felt bad that earlier that day, she had thought of killing her aunt and uncle. She wanted them to die. Her life had been turned upside down by a war that was hidden from her until recently, she had been lied to for years and years and years.

She had to lay down, pulling her hood up to rest against the hard stone. She needed to rest, her body yearned for it after the last few physically and emotionally exhausting hours. She rested her head on her arms and passed out there on the stone.

⚜⚜⚜

She didn't know what the time was when she woke, only that it was dark still. She wasn't sure if it was the same day or if she had slept through all of that day's sunlight.

What she did know, however, was how stiff she felt upon waking up. She stretched her aching limbs and looked down at the ruins below her, making her way to the edge so that she could peer down. She carefully climbed down, her body crying in protest at the strain on her muscles. She decided that she would simply walk the streets to get back to the hideout, keeping her hood up and sticking to the shadows to avoid unwanted attention. She was so tired that she felt like she was sleepwalking, like someone else was controlling her movements as she simply focused on staying awake, on staying numb to what she had discovered in order to avoid another outburst.

She sighed when she finally reached the stairs of the hideout, making her way down to the main hall and planning on heading straight to her room. She wanted to sleep. She couldn't think if she was asleep, she couldn't be hurt by her reality anymore.

She had only taken a few steps into the room when a voice almost made her leap out of her skin:

"You're back." She looked back to the table to see Ezio. He had waited for her return.

"I'm sorry. . . I needed to get away. . ." She murmured as she kept her eyes down, not wanting to see his expression. He remained silent, a gesture for her to continue. "Everyone was yelling at me or interrogating me and I couldn't take it. I couldn't take the fact that-" She could feel the tears again, biting down on her cheek while thanking her beaked hood for hiding her face, "-that they're Templars. My parents were killed - I was kidnapped - by Templars. Everything finally made sense, just like I wanted it to but it's not what I wanted." She shook her head and felt her voice waver. "This war killed them and it stole my life from me, and I didn't even know it! With my family, I was always who I was told to be, never given room enough to become my own person. The moment I ran away that changed but I'm still figuring everything out and it's too much. I want things to slow down."  A sob escaped her lips.

"Come, sit down." He offered and she listened, sitting opposite him and resting her head in her arms, taking slow breaths to try and calm herself.

"I won't lie to you: you can't slow these things down and they're going to happen a lot quicker than you'd like. But you don't have to go through them alone. Don't take this all by yourself when you have people around you who are willing to help." He hesitantly reached a hand out to rest on her arm, caressing it with his thumb. He thought back to the day his father and brothers died, to the long night that followed, the stress of getting his mother and sister to safety, of not knowing what had happened.

"I don't know who to trust anymore!" She burst out, finally looking up at him. "They raised me! They treated me like a daughter! They lied to my face every second of every day! I saw them as parents!" He got up to sit down next to her, rubbing his hand up and down her back now.

"I still trust you." He spoke softly, trying to glance at her face but she turned her head away, "But you're going to have to prove yourself to everyone now that the other recruits have found that pin. I spoke with the Assassins and they want to see you complete some errands around the city for us." (Y/n) bit down on her cheek and sighed, leaning her face on her hand.

"Everything just keeps on falling apart." She murmured, sniffling now, "I thought that I finally had a place here and now that's being tested too." His hand stopped on her back, palm splayed out.

"You've shown more devotion to the brotherhood than any of the others so far. I'll make sure that you keep your place here." He paused, "Ti prometto."

"You know, I don't usually cry this much in front of people." She laughed a little, trying to lighten the mood now, tired of being upset. He smiled softly back, seeing her wipe the tears from her face with her sleeve.

"You're going through a lot. . ." Ezio replied, "I understand that, truly, I do. But again: don’t force yourself to go through it alone."

They sat in silence for a while, (Y/n) slowly nodding her head and reaching for the papers beside him that she had gathered were her contracts around the city.

"I'll set things right, mentore." She bowed her head and stood to rest for the night before what would doubtlessly be a long day. She opened her door to find the drawers and doors of her wardrobe open, her bed unmade and the contents of the bag she had arrived with spilt over it.

She began to cry.

🏷️: @fuckinherondale @fandomsfanman​

#Ezio #ezio auditore da firenze #ezio auditore #ezio's family #ezio assassins creed #ezio auditore fanfiction #ezio auditore imagine #ezio auditore x reader #assassins creed #Assassins Creed Brotherhood #AC #ACB #unwoven fate

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “Ashes”

After The Joker’s daughter accidentally drowned, his relationship with Y/N fell apart: they were guilty of failing to protect what they loved, blaming each other and themselves to the point of no return. The sole palpable proof of Emma existence is her ashes encapsulated in glass pendants her parents wear and that’s hardly a memento able to help in such a difficult situation. Ashes are not meant to bring people together.

“Happy Birthday, Pumpkin Pie,” The Joker grumbles. “Here’s Charlie: I thought you would like to see him,” he places the purple hippo on Emma’s headstone.

Today his daughter would have been 4 years old. Instead of the usual party filled with laughter and presents he’s at “Eternal Peace” cemetery early in the morning for a different kind of festivity.

J never celebrated birthdays before yet once she showed up in his life the anniversary got a fresh new meaning: Y/N ensured that The King of Gotham was aware of how lucky they both were to have her. And he did learn to care about that tiny being he created who first called him something similar to “dada”, then a cute “da’y” and finally the word he craved to hear every single day until she was gone: “daddy.”

Being a father thought him a couple of things, but the most important was quite stunning: the index finger from his right hand wasn’t only meant for using a trigger; it was also his child’s soother.

Emma would keep it prisoner when she slept from an early age; of course all babies do it although in this case it didn’t go away once she got older.

And he misses that…

A lot.

Actually, he would give up on a robbery or anything that involves him holding a gun if she could clutch to his finger one more time.

That’s how much he misses The Princess.

“Sir, sorry to interrupt,” Frost gets him out of trance. “There’s movement at the South gate. We have to go…”

J snatches the plush animal and follows Jonny on a path behind the crypts when a woman walking on the alley leading to Emma’s grave catches his attention: although she has a red wig and sunglasses on, her disguise doesn’t fool him. It’s Y/N.

She’s carrying a small cake and intensely stares at the pavement, unaware of her surroundings.

The Joker can’t really tell what she’s doing once in front of the tomb, nevertheless he guesses she’s singing “Happy Birthday” while wiping the tears strolling down her cheeks.

He didn’t see Y/N in about 4 months. They went to the cabin by Moon Lake after Emma’s drowning and things were so rough he left immediately. She never followed, called or texted.

J didn’t either.

Why bother? They were guilty of failing to protect what they loved, blaming each other and themselves to the point of no return.

Today is extremely difficult to deal with, especially since the catalyst binding them vanished forever.

The sole palpable proof of Emma existence is her ashes encapsulated in glass pendants her parents wear and that’s hardly a memento able to help in such a difficult situation.

Ashes are not meant to bring people together.

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

After 2 Hours

“Hi,” The King of Gotham drags his feet on the porch and takes a sit on the chair next to yours.

“Hi…” you whisper, surprised to spot him after such a long absence.

Complete silence, then he utters:

“I’m here for the cake,” he points at the sweet treat resting on the wood table: vanilla- strawberry combo, your daughter’s favorite.

“Are you?”

“Yeah, I crave the taste…”

You lean over and cut two slices, sharing Emma’s birthday cake with her dad. It’s really painful to swallow the morsels knowing your baby can’t; it seems J is in the same boat.

“I can’t make anybody happy…” The Clown mumbles under his breath and the randomness of his statement makes you wonder what’s going on in his mind.

“Me neither… Sweet Pea was happy, wasn’t she? She was a happy kid…”

The Joker moves his plate towards you, hissing:

“She was and she would still be with us if instead of flirting you would have watched her!”  

“… … W- what?!...” you glare at him, astonished he has the nerve to pop up and hurt you in such a manner. “Since when talking to somebody is flirting?! Where were you, huh? Where were you??? In your goddamn office plotting more schemes in order to get more money because nothing is enough!” you raise your voice and burst out crying in the next second. “She was ours to protect, the only treasure that mattered! I just… I just took my eyes off her for a few moments, I had no idea my baby was drowning in that pool …” you keep sobbing at the horrible memory, heartbroken. “I could have save her…Why didn’t I…?…”

The Joker can’t understand what you’re saying anymore, yet he doesn’t reply to your accusations or remorseful confessions.

How could he?

He’s equally responsible for Emma’s demise but it’s easier to attack her mother.

You abruptly get up and rush inside the cottage, abandoning J to his own demons. He doesn’t know if he should bail or stay, thus he continues to gaze at the lake numb to everything.

Still… The quietness is becoming unbearable so he finally gathers the strength to stand up and search for you.

“Y/N?...” he shouts. “Where are you?”

Silly question since the cabin is a little area with a kitchen/living room combo, one bedroom and bathroom: easy to find what you’re looking for.

No response but the shower is on which queues him Y/N must be there.

The Joker approaches the bathtub, unwilling to remove the curtain and talk to you face to face.

“It was my fault too…” he admits a fact that tormented him since the accident. “I should have kept an eye on her… I couldn’t predict she’ll sneak out to play by the swimming pool… I would give away a fortune if I could fix it… Do you believe me?...”

You sniffle and cover your mouth, trying to avoid his trap: if you engage, he will probably bite more and that’s the last thing you need.

“I have Charlie in the car; I thought you might want him tonight,” J reveals the true purpose of his visit. “Drop him off tomorrow at 3pm, I’ll be at the warehouse on 17Th Street. You can’t have the toy, it belongs in her room…”

You hear his steps receding and gasp for air, completely crushed by despair: the agony of grief is stronger than any consolation a stupid purple hippo could offer.

But it was Emma’s favorite and The Joker is willing to share a token of what you both lost; now that you think about it… you really missed Charlie…

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

Next Day, 2:05pm

“Where’s everybody?” you mutter whilst entering the code at the gates. Usually there are at least 8 henchmen guarding the fence and no sign of them so far. You drive up the unpaved alley, curiously checking out the landscape: same trees, bushes and trucks you’re familiar with, except you can’t discern a single goon patrolling the perimeter.

You honk to get the crew’s assistance without any success and you wonder if The Joker tricked you; I mean, you should have seen it coming: he is probably attempting one of his convoluted strategies to punish you for the tragic past.

You stop in front of the building, intrigued to notice it appears deserted.

Suddenly, a powerful blast shakes the ground and you watch part of the roof collapsing on the north side; a few windows shatter also.

You jump out of the car, totally confused at the strange occurrence.

“Hello?” you yell. “J???”

There’s smoke coming out of the opened metal door and you hesitantly walk in the warehouse, coughing at the suffocating odor.

“J?...” you scream. “J!!!!!”

A faint knock in the distance prompts your attention.

“Y/N!!”

“J??” you run towards the source of the noise only to find him under rubble next to the south entrance. “Oh my God!” you kneel by his feet buried under bricks. “What happened?!” The Queen frantically removes debris as he groans in pain.

“Explosives, that’s what happened. Shit, I think I fucked up my legs!”

“Where are the guys??!!” you inquire, managing to free his feet enough for him to move.

“I gave them the day off,” The Joker’s explanation puzzles Y/N. “Hurry up, please!! Another detonation will follow shortly!”

“Jesus Christ!” you quicken the pace and push the last bricks out of the way. “Can you stand?”

J rolls on his side, unable to comply.

“No, you’ll have to haul me out of here!”

“Come on!” you place your hands under his underarms and start pulling. “The exit is right there!”

You huff while straining to get to safety as The Clown aims to aid by lifting his body off the ground as much as he can.

“Behind the truck!” he urges once you’re out of the premises and you barely have time to hide behind the vehicle when a second bang levels half of the construction.

“This didn’t go according to plan,” J admits in a low tone, panting a storm after the ordeal.

You asses his wounds, pressing on the ankle and he immediately growls.

“The bone’s fractured,” you wipe your sweaty forehead.  “What plan?”

“It’s actually your fault for all of this; I told you to swing by at 3 o’clock. You’re early!”

“Huh?”

“You were supposed to come when I told you then boom! Before you reached the building it would go up in flames: you would flip thinking that I’m dead and then I’ll show up and ask you to come back home. You would be so excited to see I’m alive you couldn’t refuse. Yet you ruined everything: you appeared out of nowhere, I panicked and messed up: you know I’m not good with this stuff!!”

You can’t even process the plot he’s throwing your way.

“What kind of plan…”

“I just told you I’m not good at this stuff,” he interrupts. “You know I’m not.”

You touch your chest, baffled at the ridiculous story.

“My pendant!” you exclaim when you realize the chain is not around your neck anymore. “It’s gone!” Y/N desperately searches the grass. “My baby, where’s my baby?” you part the green lawn on the verge of crying. “I can’t find my pendant! Maybe I dropped it the building,” you whimper and prepare to flee when J grabs your jeans, firmly holding on.

“Don’t go; the poles might cave in and whatever is left standing will squash you!!”

You don’t comprehend why he’s so worked up and his plea catches you off guard:

“Don’t go! I’ll give you half my ashes, ok?”

The Queen debates on The King’s proposal, conflicted by his candid offer.

After all, if ashes tear people apart, how come they can’t bring them back together?

Also read: MASTERLIST

https://diyunho.tumblr.com/post/153664676321/joker-x-reader-masterlist

You can also follow me on Ao3 and wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

#the joker x reader #the joker fanfiction #the joker imagine #the joker jared leto #jokerleto #the joker #joker #joker fanfiction #the joker suicide squad #joker suicide squad #joker imagine #mister j #mister joker #dc #dcu

[harryskalechips]

Too bad I’m attracted to you Part 2

A/n Hello I am back with this fat update. You know reading part 1 made me feel a bit bummy, I thougt it was poorly written. I hope this one isn’t as shitty. Anyways, enjoy today’s post has smut, fluff and a lot of angst hahaha

Part 1

Word count: 7336

2 years later.

Winter

“Large Iced Caramel coffee for Adeline!” The barista yells out in the busy coffee shop. I make my way through the busy crowd to pick up my order.

“Thank you.” I smile sweetly as I head straight out the door. Today was a busy day, I had just finished my 2nd lecture and I knew I had to make my way home now to study or else I’m going to fall back down in a rabbit hole of binge-watching my favourite show on Netflix.

I gather my phone and coffee in one hand as I rummage through my purse to find my keys to the apartment I lived in. I wouldn’t say I came from a rich family but my parents were hard workers who had very comfortable positions in their careers that they were able to get me an apartment near campus. The only con about this place? It was a constant reminder of the man who changed me.

He wasn’t able to help me move in here but he sure was with me when I first visited this empty place. He inspired me and helped me picture how this place would come alive. He left small details of himself everywhere in my life that it was hard to not notice them.

“Do you need a hand?” The soft brunette smiled at me as she watched me try to open the main door. I was guessing she was a visitor since she didn’t have a set of her own keys. I nod my head silently as she lets out a small laugh. She takes her hand out as I pass her my coffee and try to slip my phone in the backside of my jeans. I swiftly find my keys and open the door for us.

“Thank you!” I give her an embarrassed expression as she hands me back my coffee. “I’m sorry, I’ve opened the door many times this way I guess today was just not my luck.” She laughs and takes her purple beanie off and shoves it in her trench coat.

“It’s alright, my financé thinks he can multitask all the time too yet he’s only lucky once in a while.” I laugh at her comment out of politeness. Just as she mentioned her engagement, I noticed the simple diamond resting on her finger.

“So do you live here?” I ask to kill the awkward silence as we walk into the elevators.

“No, I’m actually just here to visit my friend.” I nod my head silently, waiting for the digits on the wall to reach 11.

“This is my floor, I got to go. It was nice meeting you though!” I wave at her as I walk out. She probably thought I was a teenager living with my parents considering how I was dressed. I had my own beanie on, with the maple leafs logo on the front. I had my dyed blonde hair in braids as I carried my thick tote with my laptop inside. I also forgot to mention how I was wearing my doc martens and my teddy coat. Yes, I definitely still dressed like a basic white girl.

~

Some days I feel lonely in the apartment when it’s late at night and I’m studying or if I want to watch a movie before bed. I try to talk to my friends as much as I can. My best friend from high school Mya was still my best friend but it’s hard to keep in contact with her when she’s at another university living her best life. I talk to Rachel and Sam but they’re both in and out of their houses and I only really get to catch up with them if we were in class or if we were studying together. It’s not like I’ve always been the type to be a social butterfly, I always preferred a tiny circle of company than a big one. Things did start to change however after I decided to cut the attachment I had with the man I once knew. I tried to numb the pain and isolation by going to parties. I tried hooking up with guys and I did but I know full well now that I regret it…. I regret everything.

Sometimes I wished I never asked the man for help, to be mentored. Maybe, I wouldn’t feel so fucked up as I am today.

After my relationship with him ended, I felt undesired as if I was unlovable. My parents didn’t notice a thing but my sister, Marla did. Coming home from his place that night made me scrub my skin in the shower until it was fiery red, until my body and my mind screamed at my heart to stop. I began to wonder about my last moments as a senior in high school.

Did I feel violated? No.

Did I feel regretful? Yes… no… I don’t know

Did I feel used? Yes. Definitely yes.

I know you can’t force one to love you the way you love them but that night when he told me he didn’t expect us to be together as I entered University, I knew I had to leave. Why? As a young naive teenager, I believed he was the one man in my life who would ever make me feel this way. Yet, all he did was fail me and show me that our relationship wasn’t worth jack shit. Funny thing was I had no clue that the girl I met in the foyer was going to link me back to him.

~

“Hi! Excuse me, I don’t know if you remember me?” The voice of a familiar girl calls out my attention as I enter the building. I stomp the snow off my boots to look at the girl. She was standing in front of the couches with the pretty abstract paintings on the wall. I walk over to her and smile as I take my left airpod out and put it back in its case.

“Yeah, I do what’s up?” She had an anxious look on her face. Should I keep talking to this girl or was it kind of suspicious how very approaching she was to others? She seems really nice though.

“I’m sorry to bother you but is there any way you can sit with me until my fiancé arrives to come and pick me up?” I give her a confused face. “Here sit down I’ll explain.” I take my tote off my shoulder and sit beside her.

The unnamed girl today was wearing a sleek leather jacket while I sat next to her in just my tights and my parka. “My name is Valerie by the way.”

“Adeline,” I reply back shortly.

“My fiancé has been calling me for hours and I thought I left my phone at my house so I never bothered to check my bag to see it in there. I stayed here at my friend’s place and my fiancé found out. Let’s just say he’s angry because he knows my friend here isn’t a good friend at most times to me.” As she continued to ramble on, I was so confused as to why this girl was in such a messy position. “Is there any way you can pretend to be my friend? I promise I have good intentions, I just don’t want my fiancé to know I was here with Kacey. That’s the friend I’m talking about.”

“Um, sure?” Her fiancé was mad about her hanging out with her friend? Seems like a bad fish that needs to be let back into the sea, in my opinion.

~

A familiar range rover pops in front of the glass doors at the same time I look up. I notice the unfamiliar guy barely parking his car as he tries to catch the door of the person who unlocked it to get in. He had a beanie on and the hood of his jacket was on, I couldn’t see what he looked like.

“Valerie.” The familiar voice called out, my ears perking up to the sound, knowing how I once was so in love with him.  I used to remember the way he spoke and the way he sounded. I listened to it all year long.

He seemed angry as he marched his way in determination towards us. What the fuck did I get myself into? I keep my gaze on the floor as I watch Valerie in my peripheral view stand up to go hug him.

“I’m sorry honey, My friend Adeline and I went on a walk around the area, I left my phone in her apartment.” With that, I look up to see him as I catch him already looking at me.

It’s been two years and he looks so different. He seemed more broader now and he was growing a little scruff. He looked older yet he seemed to carry that aura that I once found security in. His arm was wrapped around Valerie as his other one just laid against the side of his body. I try to mask my face as I stand up to walk towards him. I give a fake smile and glance at Valerie… his fiancée

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Adeline.” He gulps and nods at me.

“I’m Harry.” He pauses and glances at Valerie. “How did you two meet?” I stand there, dumbfounded. Little did he know I was covering for his finacée.

“Adeline and I met down at the coffee shop a block from here!” Valerie interjects and moves her weight onto Harry. “Anyways, Adeline it was nice spending time with you and getting to know more about your brother in the military. I think Harry and I should get going though.” The humour in all of this was both Harry and I knew I didn’t have a brother. Just a sister.

Yeah Valerie, good luck digging yourself out of this one.

I nod my head silently and watch as they both walk out. He opened the door for her, the same like he used to do for me. I noticed how fidgety he became as if the anger he felt for Valerie was no longer important. I’m pretty sure he’ll deal with her lying another time. As he makes his way around the car, he glances once more time at me to see if I was still there. I was. He started the car and drove off in a flash leaving me alone with my heart beating so fast

~

In my apartment now rushing in without a care in the world, I toss my bag onto the floor and rummage through the drawer of my nightstand looking for my inhaler. Fuck, where was it! Freshman year of university was tough for me. I was going through a heartbreak, the anxiety of exams were weighing on me, and I couldn’t get myself to trust people after a long time. This time, I saw him again. What did I expect? I mean I live near him too. I’m just surprised that I never caught him in the local grocery store or something. Now? He’s engaged. My first love is engaged. He found someone to love and it wasn’t me!

As I continue to toss things out onto my bed, I find my inhaler in the depths of the drawer, I pull it out and without another second, I press the button letting the air blow into me. I sit on my bum and rests my back on the side of the bed, taking in deep breaths as I unzip my jacket. Why am I broken?

…

My buzzer wakes me up as I try to snuggle more into my white sheets. I wasn’t expecting anyone who could it be? Still dressed in my tights and a loose tee, I get up and press on the mic of the electronic pad.

“Hello?” I can’t help but yawn.

“It’s um Harry.” I pause for a moment to think. What is he doing here? We haven’t talked in 2 years but how does he remember which apartment I was in? Why is he here tonight?

“Yeah, What can I do for you?” my voice turned more cold.

“Can I come up and uh talk to you?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I rest my forehead on my wall.

“I have to talk to you.”

“You had 2 years to do that.” One part of me knew he wasn’t going to come up here but another part of me was begging to see him, that maybe I can get closure and move on with my life. He is engaged after all, it’s not like he’s here to seduce me.

“Adeline, please.” The softness in his voice made my mind go crazy. I remember the days when he used to use that tone with me all the time.  How special I felt knowing none of my classmates knew that behind the teacher who gave us endless papers to write, there was a real softie, a real hopeless romantic.

“Alright, come up.” Without another moment, I cleaned up my tiny place as fast as I could. It was easy since I was pretty neat but tonight will be his first impression of me after 2 years. After fluffing my living room pillows, I sprint into my room to toss on a UFT sweater and brush my hair as I let it down from the messy bun it’s been in all day.  The expected knocks scare me as I set my brush down and make my way to the front door. Glancing at the clock, I noticed it was just about 9 pm.

“Hey.” I smile softly as I open the door wider to let him in. Don’t show him how fucked up you are. My brain screams at me as I get a whiff of his cologne. It’s been two years and you don’t care about what happened! I try to chant to myself as I observe him looking around my apartment.

“Wow, your place is just what I’d expect it to be.” He unzips his jacket and rests on the futon beside my door.

“Yeah, would you like some tea? You can just sit on the couches.”

“Alright, thank you.” I move quickly into the kitchen making his tea, trying to ignore the feelings I have after making eye contact with him once again.

As I walked back into the living room, I noticed he was sitting while holding a frame of me with Rachel and Sam during orientation day. I place the tea on the coffee table in front of him and sit beside him, making sure to keep my distance.

“So orientation camp huh?” He smiles still looking at the picture.

“Yeah.” I smile as I look at it too. That smile was real, it was one of the first moments in my life where I didn’t care about what happened at the end of high school graduation. He sets the picture and mumbles a thank you while taking the blue clay mug and taking a sip of it.

“Still remember how I like it.” He compliments and sets the mug back down. “Did someone make this for you?” I glanced at the detail he was looking closely at. It had a handwritten sentence on it. The days have always been dark in our favour but I would change that for you.

“Yeah, my friend Chase did.” It was a gift he made me after I decided to cool down our friends with benefits status. He was willing to give me more but I wasn’t ready. I’m still not.

“He seems like a poet.'' The man bites his inner cheek and clenches his jaw, not too noticeable but I caught on.

“He has a way with words.” Not like you though, my mind had thought as I went through a mini flashback of listening to his love letter for me the first time.

*

It was summer and just as the days grew longer so did my time with Harry. Lying to my parents I was going to sleep over at Mya’s but instead I was at my teacher’s house. He seemed to be too focused on a letter he was writing while I laid on his couch playing a stupid game on my phone. His soft voice called me to get my attention.

“Baby,” He looks up to see me sprawled in my short shorts and a tank top. “I wrote a letter and I was wondering if you can tell me if it sounds good.”

“Who’s it for?” I sit up and toss my phone onto the couch as I make my way to sit in his lap.

“For you.” He holds onto me lovingly as he starts to read the letter. I close my eyes and rest my head on top of his, trying to remember this night.

*

“I’m sure you do too.” The man interrupts my thought as he looks at me. “How’s the university life, you’re in the second year right?”

“Yeah, two more and I’m out of school.” I shrug my shoulders and play with the split ends of my hair. “Still teaching at Clement’s?”

“Yeah. I'm not teaching English anymore though, I’m teaching history.”

“Oh, that’s something new. At least you get to use your history minor.” He laughs and shakes his head. I just began to observe what he was wearing. He was wearing a grey long sleeve and blue jeans. Guess some things stay the same.

“Valerie lied to me today. I came here because I wanted to know the truth before confronting her.”

“Ha-” I pause, he looks uncomfortable as I continue on. “Never knew you were the type to be possessive. You shouldn’t be like that, especially to your finacée.”

“You don’t understand, whatever she told you, I have a reason to act this way.”

“Why then?”

“First tell me why she was here.” Harry pleads. We both sit up more as I let him know.

“We met in the coffee shop and we became Fri-”

“Adeline, please tell me. Have you seen her in this building multiple times?” He asks as I can feel his frustration seeping through.

“Yes, why?”

“Fuck!” He mutters as he stands up abruptly. “Fuck!”

“Ha-... What’s wrong?!” He looks at me immediately as he sits back down beside me.

“You can’t say my name.” He calls me out. “Adeline, say my name!” I give him nothing but a blank look. He rubs his face in desperation.

“It doesn’t matter, I’m just petty. I don’t feel-”

“Why do women always lie to me!” Harry interrupts me. “Did I fuck you up so bad, you can’t even say my name?” He looks at me with tears in his eyes. “Please tell me.” I nod silently as he closes his eyes. “Feels like karma you know? After letting you go, I thought I would never be happy again until I met Valerie last year at a club.” He glances at me as I sit there quietly, letting him continue. “Want to know a funny thing? I caught her in this apartment two months ago sleeping with her ex-boyfriend. She had her locations on and when she called me, I was so confused so I searched for his name on the list downstairs. Stood outside for hours until she came out of his apartment with hickeys all over her.”

“I still don’t know why I asked her to marry me last month. She begged me to stay with her and I just thought that maybe we deserved each other because we both like to sabotage our own relationships.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper to him as I move forward to rub my palm on his back.

“She’s still cheating on me.”

“I know.” And without another moment, he turns towards me and hugs me into his arms. All the anger in me dissolving because of his story, because of this moment. “I’m sorry.”

Spring

The club was very busy tonight and after waiting in line to get in, all I wanted to do was go back out and probably sleep in my bed.

“So you couldn’t hang out with us yesterday because you and Harry had dinner?” Rachel asked me earlier while we were in line going in. All Rachel and Sam knew were that Harry was my ex-boyfriend and we dated for 6 months.

“Yeah.” They didn’t know that Harry and I have been spending a lot of time together after he ended his relationship with Valerie. Valerie didn’t know anything about us, which was nice. I didn’t want her to get angry at me but I also knew she deserved it. My newly formed friendship with Harry, however, as beneficial as it was strictly platonic. It’s been two months and I feel like my mental health has improved. Maybe if Harry decides to leave my life again, I’ll be okay. I also learned how to say his name again without feeling my heart hurt. The times now have been good, I’ve been good

“Still can’t understand how you felt so in love with him, only after dating for 6 months,” Sam called out as we entered the club. She didn’t know what Mya knew. I ended up telling her at the end of summer when the break up happened. Mya told me I was 100 percent reasonable because I was involved in a serious relationship for the first time in my life.

~

“Hey, that guy has been eyeing you for a while,” Rachel smirks at me as she points discreetly at the cute blonde guy glancing at me while talking to his friends. I make eye contact with him and smile. As the night was still young, he made his way over to me. After a few more drinks, I knew my mission was to bring him over to mine

...

As I wake up in my sheets alone, my head pounds making me groan. Sitting up, I noticed I was in the unnamed boy’s polo. After brushing my teeth and using the toilet in my ensuite, I headed out to realize the ruckus was coming from my living room.

“Good morning beautiful.” The blond boy smiles as he sits at the dining table eating breakfast take out. “Your friend is here by the way.” He nods his head to the kitchen. As I walk into the room, the tiles sting the bottom of my feet. There, I see a pissed Harry making tea.

“Hey.” I tuck my hair behind my ear as I’m surprised he’s here. He looks at me and passes the mug into my hand without another word. “Thanks. How did you get here?”He looks behind him to see the boy eating while watching something on his phone. The unnamed boy seemed to be around my age.

“Thought I would get us some breakfast since I hadn’t heard from you yesterday but Jamie here buzzed me in without a word. Came here then he took your breakfast so he could eat. You can have min-”

“Thanks.” I smile and take a sip of the tea. “I think he should go though I didn’t even know his name until you mentioned it.” Together, we walk out and I notice Jamie finishing his container or mine.

“Thanks, Henry! Breakfast was delicious.” Harry widens his eyes then nods quietly.

“Jamie, is it alright you leave now? Harry and I have somewhere to be.” I ask nicely as he stands up and cleans up after himself.

“Yeah angel, just let me get my shirt back then I’ll be out doing my walk of shame.” He smirks as he watches me. I glance at Harry who seems to be angry again.

After Jamie leaves and Harry and I sit together on my couch using two forks sharing his bacon and eggs, he speaks up. “So that’s what you were doing yesterday huh?”

“Yeah.” My cheeks flush as I purposely only eat the yolk of the eggs, knowing Harry hates that part.

“I know it’s not my business but do you have one night stands a lot?”

“Um. last year I only had three then Chase and I had benefits until this year, after that Jace… I mean Jamie has been the last one.”

“Oh.” He says silently. “That’s cool.”

“Don’t you have one night stands a lot?” I tease as I take a sip of his coffee since my mug is empty.

“You know I'm not really keen on those. Before you, I wasn’t really into it. After you, I fell into some deep hole so yeah I did. Valerie’s my last.” I nod and glance at the quiet TV. “You know the year when you left, I was a really mean teacher. Mrs. Raisell had to speak to me and ask me to pass all my students because ⅔ were failing.”

“Maybe they deserved to fail?” I shrug my shoulders and laugh.

“No, I was purposely marking hard.”

“Are you still hurt about Valerie?”

“If I’m being honest with you, I was waiting for something to break us up. I couldn’t imagine marrying her.”

“Why not?”

“Always pictured it would be you.”

Summer

Today was going to be my first day entering Harry’s house again. I was nervous but the thing that kept my spirits up was that I was going in with Harry and the broken part of me was fixed once again. To me, it didn’t matter that Harry broke me because he fixed it, at least I have his presence here again and I don’t feel lonely anymore.

“We’re here.” Harry smiles as he steps out to open my door. I glanced at his house that seemed to bring comfort to my heart as I saw Harry nod his head for me to follow him. After locking his car, we enter his house. It smelled the same and looked just a bit different. I noticed how there were fixed holes in the wall, some of his books were missing from the shelf, and he had new windows and a new TV.

“Did Valerie change some things around here while you guys were together?” I ask as I take off my shoes and sit with him in the living room. I used to remember staying in here and cuddling him. Sometimes, I would ask him to edit my essays. He would tell me all these tips but I would drown him out, pretending to listen yet my attention was on the TV show he was watching.

“Actually, No. Valerie and I were only together for 4 months plus we were never really here. We spent most of our time at hers.” He sits down and turns the TV on.

“What’s up with the holes and missing books in here.” He looks at the holes I was staring at. He lowers the volume and speaks to me.

“Mind if I get something upstairs.” And with that he sprinted upstairs, leaving me on the couch.

As he made his way back, he handed me a mini leather journal. It was a bit torn up but it seemed to be in good condition.

“Um,” he pauses as he sits down. He turns towards me and keeps his eye contact on the closed journal. “You can read that when you get home but I can tell you what happened here.” I nod my head and take the journal and hug it into my arms. “When you left, I uh... felt like that was a bad moment for me. I just- you know why we broke up. I just didn't expect you to love me.” he looks at me while I stare at him breathe a bit heavier. This was the closure I was asking for.

“Addy, I was so excited that night and when you told me you loved me, the insecurity I had for the past 9 months just buried me. I don’t know how to explain it. I just- I was scared you would take that back later when you realized how much potential you have and how you can have a better relationship with a boy that was going through the same stuff you were. I’m sorry.” He looks at me and bends down to wipe a tear down my face.

“I always thought about your parents’ reaction if they found out about us, I thought about your friends, I thought about my parents. It was so messy in my brain. Then when you left, I realized that I loved you too but you were gone in an instant. I got so angry at myself for letting fear take over me. So um I decided to punch the walls and throw my TV through a window. Decided to take each romance book out of my shelves and pour alcohol on them.” He laughs to himself. “I even remember crying so hard, trying to tear out the pages of my favourite book, you know a copy I gave you for Christmas. Anyways, I was really mad at myself that I didn’t try to get you back. I mean I took your senior year away from you. You should experience Uni and I guess that’s what made me decide to let you go.” I cry harder and look at the almost bookless shelves

“You fucking ruined me, Harry. I tried to have fun but all I was fucking looking for was something to numb the pain you left me!”

“I know baby and I’m sorry okay! I’m sorry for not being strong enough! I’m sorry for fucking doing that! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m fucking sorry!” He yelled as we both cried on his couch.

“I fucking loved you and you threw that back in my face. I rubbed my skin so hard that night when I left this fucking place. Do you understand that? I had- my skin peeling for days after trying to get you out of my skin, trying- to … rinse your.. Scent off m-”

“Baby, are you okay?” Harry’s eyes alarmed as he watched me hyperventilate. “Fuck, Addy, you don’t have asthma!” I grasp onto his shoulders as he quickly lets go of me and runs to his kitchen, as he walks back he has his own inhaler in his hands. “Here, it’s alright, baby. I’m here now, it’s okay.” As I take in a breath, I fall into his arms and hug him.

“I love you, Adeline. I love you. Two years or not, I don’t give a fuck. I love you.”

…

The night was quiet as we cuddled together on his couch. We were both speechless about what happened earlier and now we have been watching infomercials for the past hour. Harry was petting my hair as I laid on his chest playing with the journal he gave me. “Want me to read that for you. It’s just little lines I wrote about you.” I nod my head and he takes the journal into his hands. He soon began to read each page out loud. I closed my eyes on his chest, trying to remember this night. The same way I did when I first listened to him read out his love letter.

I know you were way too bright for me

I’m hopeless, broken, so you wait for me in the sky

All the lights couldn’t put out the dark

Runnin’ through my heart

Don’t you call him “baby”

We’re not talking lately

Don’t you call him what you used to call me

Forget what I said

It’s not what I meant

And I can’t take it back, I can’t unpack the baggage you left

Sunflower, my eyes want you more than a melody

Fall

“Ahh, Harry let me down!” I scream as I feel his arms engulf me as he lifts me off my feet. “If I don’t unpack my things then I’m going back to mine!” I tease as he laughs putting me back down but not without stuffing his mouth in between my neck so he can leave kisses there.

“You can’t, you sold it already. You’re living here with me forever!” He murmurs against my jaw as he turns me around and leans me against his counter. “You’re here with me now.” He smiles as I kiss him on the nose.

After rekindling our relationship, I decided to sell the apartment and live with him since I’ve spent more time at his place than mine. When I told my parents about Harry, they were happy and they agreed with me moving out. Little did they know that I was dating Harry back when I was still his student but I think that’s a story for another time.

“Oh no, what did I sign up for! I’m living here with you… forever!” I pretend to sigh but he pinches my hips and lifts me onto his dark blue counter.

“Promise baby it won’t be too bad. We’ll redecorate the place just how you want it. We can spend so much more time together and… we can have sex anywhere you want.”

“Hm, I like that.” I kiss him on the lips as I wrap my arms around his neck.

“I know you do baby.” He laughs. He kisses me harder then pulls away. “Are you done unpacking your mugs or should I organize the bookshelves myself?” He smirks as he watches me pout. I tug on my pigtail and hop down the counter.

“I want to help you, of course!”

That night we spent hours reorganizing his book collection. I even added some of my own since I’m an English major too. The shelves that were once empty were now filled with many genres of books but I made sure that the majority of them were romance.

~

“Baby, are you almost finished?” I knock on Harry’s office as I see him marking his last stack of history papers.

“Mmm, I don’t think so.” He looks up at me and sighs as he glances back at the hill of papers that don’t seem to shrink.

“I was hoping you and I could spend some time tonight since I just finished my homework.” I walk inside the room and close the door. I make my way onto the couch that I’ve grown used to and sit down. Harry was wearing his glasses with his grey sweatpants and a plain white tee. I was wearing his polo and just my panties. Tonight though, no funny business. I’m here to keep him company yet let him focus on marking. “You know I took AP history, maybe I can help you with the marking like old times.” I lick my lips as he glances at me from the paper he was reading, he took a bit too long to respond since he was too focused.

“Yeah, alright, go grab a paper. The research question should revolve around world war 1 and Canada’s involvement.” With that, I took the paper from his stack and picked out a pen from his mug. I got him that for Teacher Appreciation Day when I was still his student.  

A couple of hours after, I didn’t realize I fell asleep on his couch as I watched him finish the last few. All I remember is him carrying me to our bedroom.

“Oh, I’m sorry I fell asleep?” I yawn as I watch him beside me getting settled into bed. The fairy lights around our room set the vibe since I decided to hang them up because Christmas was just around the corner again. “You should’ve woke me up instead of carrying me to bed.” He looks at me and laughs, bending down to kiss my forehead.

“It’s okay baby, plus you could be awake and I’d still carry you to bed. Thank you for helping me mark tonight. It reminds me of the old times.” He hovers over me and intertwines both of our hands on either side of my face.

“It’s alright.” I smile as I watch his eyes look at me. “ You know I was thinking, if we don’t count the two-year break, we’ve been together for about 15 months.” He licks his lips and kisses me on the lips.

“Feels weird huh? Feel like I’ve known you forever.”

“Yeah, I think so too.” He kisses down my neck even though we both know we’re both very tired. “I love you,” I whisper.

“I love you so much more,” Harry whispers back as we finish the night with sloppy, slow sex.

Winter

“Happy birthday to you, Happy birthday to you, Happy birthday dear Harry, Happy birthday to you.” I sing softly as I carry a stack of pancakes with a lit candle on top. Harry was just waking up, surprised at the view of me in just his shirt. I carefully crawl on the bed so he can blow the candle out. He reaches out and closes his eyes for a moment before blowing the flame out.

“Thank you.” Harry murmurs as he comes closer to kiss me. “I love you, Addy.”

“I love you too.” I kiss him back. “Here’s your fork, let me just get your coffee downstairs!” I was just about to get out of bed but he holds onto my hand.

“Stay, I can get some coffee later.”Since it was a Saturday, we were very lucky to stay in bed and watch TV all morning. Harry was feeding me a couple of bites while I would let my fingers massage his scalp for hours.

“You know I don’t know how I got so whipped for you, Ms. Chastain.” He murmurs against my jaw after he sets the plate down on his nightstand. “Saw you standing there, the first day in class and I knew I just had to get to know you.” I laugh and sink myself more into the sheets so he can hover over me.

“You know I didn’t know we would get back together. Thought I would never see you again.” He rubs himself on me as I let my fingers graze over his newly shaved chin.

“Are you happy to be with me?” He asks seriously as he kisses my jaw.

“Mhm.” I moan.

“You love me yeah?”

“I do.” He looks up and smiles at me. He kisses my forehead then lifts up my (his) shirt off my stomach. “Harry.”

“I love you, Addy. So fucking much I do.” The wetness of his tongue teases my stomach as he makes his way back to the top of my chest so he can suck on my nipples. “So fucking beautiful you are.”

“Harry.” I pant as I watch him take a nipple into his warm mouth. His other hand playing with my panties and teasing my core.

“Can’t believe I let other guys touch you. You should’ve been mine only. To touch, to love on, to moan for.” He inserts his fingers in me as I scratch his back. “Moan for me baby, scream my name.”

“Daddy, fuck, oh my god. Faster please!” he gropes my boobs and slaps my wet pussy.

“Too bad I’m attracted to you yeah? Don’t give a fuck what you do, who you sleep with. I just want to love you all day long.” He whispers in my ear as I touch his hard dick and try to jerk him off too.

“Love you, you’re so big, daddy!” Without another moment, I come undone as he moans too at the sight of me. He takes my hands off his dick and teases my entrance a bit before putting it in.

“Remember that time I gagged you with your panties and blindfolded you with my tie.” I nodded. “Fucked you so hard and bent you over my desk that day. So difficult after you left me to mark homework on that desk. I couldn’t stop hearing your moans in my mind baby. You fucked me up so hard.” And with that, he thrust into me so fast as he reached forward to choke my neck.

“Daddy!” I open my eyes to see him, biting his lip watching himself fuck me hard.

“Open your eyes love, want you to see me tear you apart.” He helps me sit up and rests my back on the headboard as I watch him fuck me over and over again. “Fuck, don’t look at me like that, I might just have to turn you over right now and spank you.” He takes his thumb and puts it into my mouth so I can suck on it.

“Then turn me over daddy, spank me while I feel you in my stomach.” He bends down to kiss my lips and just as I was about to kiss him back he turns me over on all fours. Slapping my ass twice before putting himself back in me.

“So wet, baby.” He pulls my hair out of my face as he thrusts faster. I clench my fingers around our pillows, trying to also hold onto the headboard. “You fucking like that when I fuck you hard? Such a slut for my cock baby. So wet, you’re fucking leaking for me.” He teases his finger around my other whole. “Look at this one, I might have to try and give this one attention next time what do you think?” As I moan, attempting to reply he cuts me off, “Maybe now is a good time.” He spits onto the hole, teasing his finger around it. “Are you okay with this Addy, do you like how it feels?”

“Mhm.” Harry pulls onto my hair a bit harsher.

“Answer me correctly, say it properly. Let daddy know.”

“Yes!” He slips his thumb into my now wet hole as he fucks me faster.

“Fuck, I wanna put a baby in you so bad baby.”

“Put one in then.” I moan and reach down to rub my clit.

“Get off birth control and I won’t doubt for a second to put one in.” He grits his teeth and flips us over so I’m riding him. “Be a good girl, show me how good you are.” He whispers and slaps my butt. I watch his face turn into pleasure as I roll my hips onto his, trying my best to fuck him well. My moans were seemingly uncontrollable as I feel him deep in my stomach.

“Come for me daddy please fill me up!” I whine and without another second, we come together. Harry reaches quickly for my neck, choking me as he thrusts his hips upwards. His seed fills me up as I un slide myself off him and reach down to taste us. He watches me with a smirk as I lay back down beside him. I feel him move his arm underneath me, as he searches for something. As I lay beside him looking at the ceiling, I watch his hand open a black velvet box in front of me.

“Harry,” I whisper, turning to look at him.

“I know it’s my birthday but the only wish I had in mind was if you said yes to the question I’m about to ask you.”  He sits up a bit as I mimic his position.

“Adeline Chastain, I knew you ever since you were 18 and I’ve loved you ever since then. You would make me the happiest man in the world if you would marry me?” I watch him as we both cry so happily together.

“Yes, Harry, I will!” He takes the pear-shaped diamond engagement ring and slides it onto my finger. He kisses me softly as his fingers touch the necklace he bought me for graduation.

“I’m very much in love with you and I promise to take care of your heart, to protect you, and make you the happiest woman in my life.” and with that we kissed again, leading us to the never-ending hours of activities in the bed.

When I was 18, I was naive. I thought Harry would be the only man in my life who would ever make me feel this way.

And I was right.

#too bad I'm attracted to you #Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagines #harrystyles oneshots #harrystyles fluff #cute #teacher!harrystyles #love #harrystylesimagine #onedirection

[katsukikitten]

Hi! I was wondering if you could could do bakugo with a depressed and self-harming s/o? Shes trying so hard not to do but it was one of those days that the urge was almost impossible to ignore? Sorry if its too dark, i just feel this very mood rn. Sorry to bother you and i love your work ❤️💕

This would never bother me love. Please feel free to message me should you need me. You have my full support and I will always help you to my best abilities.

MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING FOR SELF HARM PLEASE DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER IF YOU FEEL LIKE YOU'LL LOSE THE BATTLE. I KNOW YOU ARE STRONG YOU CAN DO THIS.

It sat on your shoulder, weighing down on your mind, body and soul. Wispy fingers digging into flesh as it peers over you too curious for it's own good.

It smiles a jagged tooth smile as it sees what has your heart and mind racing so erratically. It morphs all on it's own as you stare at the 34% written in blotchy red ink and it seems to whisper with a gravely voice.

*"Worthless."*

You twist at your skin on your forearms agitating old scars that burn to be reopened and picked over for the next few weeks. Your forearm reddens from the Indian burn you're giving yourself all the while your mind stays on a dark loop. Repeating things over and over as you try to understand this failing grade.

As you try to wrap your mind around how in the hell could this be your fifth one in a row.

You were going to fucking flunk, you were going to have to say good bye to your dreams, to all of your aspirations as a hero. You thought you might as well go back to the dorms and start packing now as you proved to yourself exactly what you've always known and exactly what it's always breathed down the nape of your neck.

*"Not good enough."*

The skin begins to bloom in blues and purples, much like a moody flower as you're absorbed in thought trying to break the cycle of it.

Trying to ignore the call of old burns on your ribs from your friends curling iron, trying so damn hard to not hear that the school is teaming with sharp objects to slice yourself with.

So absorbed really that you do not hear the bell dismissing school, only the rushing blood in your ears.

Oblivious to the burning eyes that watch your hand work, that have seen the scars in training but would never be shameless enough to ask.

He figured it out quickly, noticing with deft eyes the neatly set rows of dated scars, of their organization and as far as he knew you had never been captured.

A strong hand wraps around the wrist that has been twisting the past hour.

"Enough. It's just a grade. I'll help you study." All biting voice as his vice grip dies down. He has your backpack on what is normally his free shoulder. You blush furiously, feeling shame heat your cheeks as you hadn't realized you were being so obvious.

"Let's go Y/LN!" He shouts now from the door trying to keep the bite out of his voice.

He fails as the chair scrapes against the cold linoleum. He bites his lip waiting for you to fall into step.

The walk home is silent and awkward at best. Embarrassment creeps in reddish hues onto your cheeks as you think of who else may have seen you.

Who else noticed your unstable mind and insecure actions?

The thought has you subconsciously twisting again as thoughts swirl faster and faster as they think of what will relieve the tension.

Did you have any more razors? Surely one of the girls did, if not the corner store.

But did you have the extra cash?

As you rack your brain for either a hidden stash of instruments or cash it hits you. You had that lighter your stole ages ago. It only took 70 seconds for a burn to form. 70 agonizingly lovely seconds for your skin to warp and bubble until the pain was so numbing you felt your body go slack. Your brain finally giving you endorphins you so thoroughly craved.

And the best part about a burn is that it would hurt for weeks after, and especially so any time you introduced it to hear. Skin jaded from its previous encounter with unpleasantly warm.

Just as your nails begin to break skin a calloused hand has gripped your wrist once more. Hand slipping into yours while intertwining fingers in a bone crushing grip.

"Whatever it is you're thinking. You better not." Its a threat that actually scares you.

How had he read your mind? You swallow thickly while trying not to look any more suspicious under his exceptionaly watchful eye.

Once the two of you reach the dorm he squeezes your hand tightly, slipping your back onto your shoulder before growling in your ear.

"Whenever you feel...down you come to me." His voice is darker than you've ever heard before he lets go of your hand waltzing into the dorms.

Days pass with the single thought of painful released flooding your system.

Anytime you reached for your lighter you thought of burning red eyes.

Of the wraith that would be looming in them.

Of the disappointment.

You gulp down air as you try to fight it especially now that the inanimate object seems to have gained a voice.

A voice that echos what the wispy black beast that hangs onto your back screams in your ear.

*"Do it. Do it. DO IT!"*

It said it every time you were in the shower and around razor heads lying around, screeched when it saw the sharp edge of a broken tile in the bathroom. It yelled it during practice as you watched Todoroki's flame lick greedily at the ground, at the walls of the fake city.

Dancing in the sunlight as if it were a savior, calling out to be caressed as the paint beneath bubbled and warped.

Your fingers had reached out. Had begun to feel the heat.

Until you were so selfishly ripped away by strong hands and heated scarlet eyes.

Shoving you to continue the mission.

It took on new words now as you reached for your box in your closet. Taking down the black shoe box of sad poems and long forgotten notes from long forgotten friends.

And as you stare down at the scratched chrome rectangle, flopping open the top.

You still hear that magical sound of sloshing butane. Now you just have to hope the flint is still good. Hesitation seizes your muscles as your thumb rests on the steel wheel, is this really such a good idea?

Think of all of the people who abandoned you when they found out.

Think of the hurt shining in your parents eyes when they saw the scars littering your body, wondering what they did to make you so unhappy.

Think of how you only feel smaller when you do it.

You're about put it away, seal it back in its black converse labeled coffin when that wispy small thought you'd tried so hard to talk over is finally heard.

*"But think of how good it feels in the moment."*

With that your thumb comes fully down, the flint sparks igniting the soaked wick that now dances in the comfort of your room.

Singing its praises, asking you to come closer for a reward.

You listen, bringing your hand down slowly over the lit lighter, as the heat turns from pleasantly warm to Redding burn.

Closer still you push your palm until your skin is in the flame. Silently ticking by the seconds.

35 have passed as you're halfway there, the smell of skin is staring to waft onto the air as your skin has already become distorted, discolored as the flames lovingly leave your with a heated numbness.

At least for now.

A knock comes at the door, earning you a small yelp. Suddenly the fire has become hot, burning as you flick closed the top and drop the lighter.

"J..just a minute." You call out starring at your palm gripping at your wrist.

"Hurry up. We don't have much time to study before bed. Your retake is in two days." His voice comes out gruff starling you even more.

You hadn't asked for Bakugou's help, so why was the hot head barking on the other side of your door.

Shit.

This was getting worse by the second. With nothing to wrap your hand it you tell yourself you'll be able to hide it as you reach for the doorknob. Causing a pain to shoot from your hand all the way up to your shoulder as you force the fried nerves onto a cool surface. Twisting as you go.

Maybe it wasn't your best idea to use it on your dominate hand.

But what's done is done.

"We c...can go to the common room and study." You suggest but barges himself in anyway standing just inside your door as he thinks of the best way to avoid the landmine of clothes and books scatter across the hardwood.

"Too loud." He dismisses finding the perfect path to your desk.

The perfect path that has his boot toeing the lighter. Causing it to skid into his sight. He leans over to pick it up, feeling the warmth coming from it and finally placing the odd smell that lingers in your room.

He glares over his shoulder as your heart pounds in your throat, causing a lump to form as you see what you told yourself was going to be there.

Anger.

Disappointment.

Especially so with how neatly he sets down the test materials, stepping with precise foot steps before he stands in front of you.

Heated sugar begins to flood the room before a few uncontrolled pops ring our over his shoulders and forearms.

"What's this?" He asks calmly which scares you more than anything and when you cannot answer he notices you hiding your dominate hand.

"N..n..nothing Bakugou. I...I found it on campus and thought it looked cool. I wanted to..to keep it." You stumble with frayed nerves as you avoid his eyes, telling a half truth. You do collect odd things that you find. Thinking they bring you fortune and you did find the zippo on campus, just not this one.

He looks you over debating before he grits his teeth. Hand causing the lighter to explode.

"And then you lie to me." He comes out dark, rubbing you the wrong way as you think of all the other faces his match right now.

As you remember that they gave you their backs becoming nothing more than memories and empty promises immortalized on line paper that rots in a coffin made of a black converse box.

You cannot stop the tears as you fall to the floor. Crying loudly and openly, large droplets raining down onto your shirt and the hard wood floor.

Bakugou's own heart lodges in his throat as he stares down at you.

Per the usual fucking up how you're supposed to react.

This wasn't supportive like the internet had said. Nor was it loving.

Hell, if anything this was the exact opposite of what was advised to do. And here he stood losing his temper over something you clearly struggled with.

The worst part to him was that there was nothing he could do to change this, to alter how you feel. To stop you all together and force you into a different, more healthy coping mechanism.

No all he could was watch from the sidelines.

And Bakugou Katsuki was a starter.

He sighs sinking to his knees pulling you into him as you stain his pressed shirt. Dampen it until nothing else comes out and the numbness begins to set in.

All the while he smooths down your hair and let's his hand travel down your back in a loving warm touch. When he thinks you are done he pushes you away so he can stare into your gorgeous eyes and admits what he never thought he would.

"I can't fix this for you. I can't take it away. I cant fight it off. Kiss it away. Fuck it away. Or rip the urge from your body." He squeezes your shoulders tightly, "Only you can do that."

The two of you stay quiet as you realize the weight of his words.

"You're the only one strong enough to fight this. I can support you, I can be a shoulder to cry on, a punching bag whatever. But I can't fucking fix this for you." Another pop from his shoulders before he let's out a shaking sigh, "But I sure as fuck believe in you. You stopped once. You can stop again. As long as you keep getting back up Y/N it doesn't matter that you *ever* fell. So please....please let me help you. Let me be that shoulder, that punching back. That void you vent to."

More tears glisten in your eyes as he kisses your forehead, he pulls you back into another death grip hug, voice threatening to crack as he adds.

"Please let me help you kick this things ass."

#bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou comfort #bakugou angst #bakugo angst #bakugo comfort #bnha ask #katsuki bakugo #bakugou katsuki #bakugou asks #bnha kacchan #bnha au #bnha asks

[seemslegitflapjacks]

Chapter 2, The Neighbors

When I woke up, It was already the next day. The obnoxious sun glaring at me through the curtainless window. I groaned, sitting up, my back aching from sleeping on the floor. I looked, seeing Rambo pawing at the door, asking to be let out. I sat up, kicking my way out of the sleeping bag, opening the door for the massive dog, who shoved his way out the door.

“Jeff! Wake up darlin and help us with the boxes please!” I heard my mom holler from downstairs.

I smiled, hearing my mom’s voice first thing in the morning was the best. Even if it was her telling me to grab scratchy cardboard boxes and carry them back and forth.

“Coming mama!” I hollered back, running down the stairs so fast I nearly fell.

“Hey raggamuffin.” My mom chuckled, ruffling up my messy head of hair.

“Hey mama.” I smiled back, hugging her, my mom returning my embrace.

“Ok, now go help your daddy and your brother with the boxes. Your boxes have your name on it baby.” My mom told me, giving me a kiss on the head as she shooed me away.

I walked outside, taking a few good seconds to adjust to the bright sun. I couldn’t remember the last time I’ve ever been outside when it was so bright. It was probably a California thing, hell if I know.

I kept walking to the moving truck, walking up the ramp, seeing my dad pass by with boxes in his hands.

“Mornin’ champ.” He greeted as he passed.

I gave my dad a wave back, searching for the boxes with my name written on them. After digging a bit, I found one of them. I carried it into my room, doing the same with the rest of my boxes. Back and forth, up and down the stairs. I honestly couldn’t tell whether I was running suicides or moving. It kept me busy though.

I had scratches from the cardboard all over my forearms. My arms and back felt so strained from constantly crouching down to pick up stuff. The constant back and forth up the stairs also took a bit of my energy. But it wasn’t as bad as soccer and lacrosse. Those were honestly way worse with the constant running.

After I had set the last box down in my room, I heard my mom call me from downstairs.

“Jeff! Come down please we have some neighbors!” My mom yelled, to which I rushed down the stairs.

Once I was outside, we were met by a young woman and her son. She had a slim deer like face with freckles and big doe eyes. Her son was about five or six, he has scruffy brown hair with big hazel green doe eyes and freckles.

“Hey, I’m Barbara, and this is my son, Billy.” The tall slim lady smiled, her hand patting her young son’s shoulder.

“Hi Barbara, my name’s Margaret, this is my husband Peter, and these two boys right here are my sons, Jeff and Liu.” My mom spoke, a smile on her face, our father matching her smile as the three of them shook hands.

“Hi I’m Billy!” The little kid blurted out, shoving out his hand towards my twin and I.

“Hey Billy, I’m Jeff, this is my twin Liu.” I smiled, shaking his tiny hand, the kid’s jaw dropping.

‘Mommy! They’re twins!” He told his mom, pulling on the edge of her shirt.

‘Oh! Your boys really are so alike Margaret!” Barbara replied, my mom laughing.

“You should’ve seen Jeff when he had short hair, couldn’t tell one from the other.” Our mother chuckled.

The three adults talked for a while, discussing random stuff. The conversation drew on for so long I knew my mom had already made a new best friend. I remember when I had to literally sit in the candle aisle at Wal-mart for a whole hour because my mom couldn’t stop talking to a coworker of hers. I love my mom but she’s gonna be the death of me someday I swear.

“Nice meetin’ y’all, see y’all later!” Our mom waved, finally, alas, I didn’t have to listen to my mom ramble about my brother and I.

Once we were back inside, I saw our cat Chanel laying on the couch. I smiled, quickly scooping up the little kitty in my arms, he let out a surprised meow, but instantly started purring when he realized it was me. I scratched his ears as I held him on the couch. My parents were talking in the kitchen, while my brother was attempting to figure out how to get the TV plugged up and connected to cable.

“You know It’d be nice if you helped me instead of petting the cat dude.” Liu told me, shooting me a dirty look.

“Sorry but I’m not willing to get electrocuted.” I clapped back.

Liu rolled his eyes, “You’re not gonna get electrocuted you wuss-” just then, almost on clue, the outlet shocked. Liu making a weird yelp noise, holding his finger.

“See? I’m not finna play ding-dong-ditch with God’s door dumbass.” I told him, sticking out my tongue.

“Shut up Rapunzel-” He snapped, embarrassed.

I rolled my eyes, continuing to pet Chanel, who was almost half asleep. My mom returned, turning to help my brother configure cable wires. The TV eventually flicked on, Liu grabbing the remote, changing the channel to some random show. Probably some white trash rich people show, House wives of nobody fucking cares. I hated the shows, but they were also entertaining.

At some point, my mom had turned it to the news. The reporter talking about a grizzly murder that had happened the night before. The body of a convicted child abuser was found strung up and gutted in the woods. The body was mutilated in all sorts of ways. Apparently the murderers had also smacked him around like a pinata. That was gruesome. Like, being a human pinata sounded painful. It wouldn’t even be that exciting, I mean, you don't even get candy you just get teeth n’ stuff.

We had dinner, which was just door dash Steak Escape. I grabbed Chanel, taking the little siamese cat upstairs to my room, plopping the cat down on my bed. Quickly walking into my bathroom, taking a shower.

I sat, letting the skin boiling water rain down on me. I closed my eyes, leaning my head up, the shower water making my forehead numb. I heard static fuzz up in my ears, slowly getting louder and louder. Before I opened my eyes, it had completely stopped. I quickly washed my hair, making sure I got it all before I lathered myself up in body wash, watching the soap rinse down into the drain.

I noticed the water turning pinkish red, quickly putting the back of my hand up to my face. Only to see blood. Shit, I was having another nosebleed. I’d been having a lot lately, they’d bleed until I started to hear static again. I didn’t wanna tell my parents, they’d think I was lying. Who would believe something like that anyways? Like, ‘Oh hey mom I hear static and everytime I do my nose starts gushing blood.’ Like my mom would totally believe that. I stepped out, quickly pinching my nose as I leaned over the sink. The static became louder and louder. It hurt so bad, it was ringing in my ears like a siren. I moved my ears back, trying to drown it out by making the blood in my ears rumble. But it didn’t stop. That’s when I gagged, hacking and choking, before a slug of blood splattered into the sink. Yuck.

I let go of my no longer bleeding nose, My hands stained bright red from the blood as it began to dry up. I turned on the sink, running my hands up under the water. Quickly grabbing a towel to dry myself off. I looked at myself in the mirror. My skin pale and yellowish, I felt cold and clammy. The skin on my arms splotchy with red. I looked sick as a dog. The bags under my eyes a dark purple brown. I looked disgusting, like actually nasty. I thought showers were supposed to make you feel and look better. Clearly today’s shower decided to nerf me.

I walked out, Chanel meowing loudly as he waited outside the door. The needy bastard wanting to be given attention. I nudged him away, grabbing some basketball shorts and a random t-shirt, bouncing up onto my bed. Chanel jumping up. The small cat meowing as he walked on my stomach, shoving his forehead onto my hand as I pet him. Chanel cured up on my lap purring until I got tired of petting him and fell asleep. Tomorrow was gonna be one hell of a day.

#creepypasta #jtk #creepypasta jtk #jeff woods #jeff the killer #liu woods #homicidal liu #alternate universe #my au #rewrite #creepypasta fandom #writers on tumblr #writing #chapter

[eagesoldartblog]

Have you ever been so not proud of something like what happened here

Day four of Whumptober!!! Aw yeaHHH!!

Human Shield 

Above all else, there’s a tense silence. Neither person spoke, focused only on the other. Taking in their facial features and body language, gauging each other based on the small actions and twitches of their hand. 

How exactly did Death expect either to respond. One a towering spectator with a thirst for blood and a coward dressed in yellow. 

The walls exudes a sinister scent. Nearly frigid. 

The specter- Lewis glares at Arthur, doing nothing to conceal the fury burning in them. Infact- their fists smoked and burned, their plates of bone glowing pink. Resisting every temptation to subject Arthur to the peril they planned. 

The only reason Arthur wasn’t burnt to a crisp right there-

Was because Death forbade it.

Death, Arthur swallows tightly, blinking back a shudder as he thinks back to the numbing void outside of the walls, an all powerful being who- for some reason- patiently waits for all the souls to return to them. The one who brought both him and the dead spectator into its walls. 

*Why... is it because this spectator wants to kill him?* 

Arthur didn’t know how much of that glare he could handle. 

“S-So...” Arthur swallows, remembering how Death *promised* that no harm shall come to Arthur within their home, but this is a risk sigh the probability of a bomb exploding, but he needed to know, “Why are you after us...?” 

The spectator blinks, pink rings flaming. The fire within them growing by the pinkish glow now coming into their sockets. Muscles tightening, it speaks, “You have a lot of nerve to ask such a thing, Arthur.”

Voice gravely, echoing and sharp, the familiarity punches Arthur in the gut. It was so close to Lewis... Please don’t do this to me And yet, the only thing Arthur can ask himself is Why does it know his name?

“Is it?” Arthur challenges shakily, “you’ve been following us for a while. Are you - you’re after me at least, right?” 

”Who else?” It snaps.

Don’t flinch, Arthur. Don’t flinch. Stay strong.

“The girl.”

”Vivi,” Fuck it knows HER name too? ”I must say, I’m horribly disappointed in you. Disrespecting her that way.” The ghost scowls- seems to, and Arthur can’t help his flinch. 

“If you know anything about the world of supernaturals, then you know the importance of a name.” 

Eyes widen, the spectator tenses, now anxious and ... embarrassed? Holy shit did I actually manage to one up them??

They also notice Arthur’s victory, ”Fine. Whatever.” hissing, the flame of his hair ignites, growing tall and gaseous, ”You’re correct, I have business with you first and foremost.”

“O-kay!” His spine strains from tension, “Well. Uh- who are you?”

”You know who I am.”

Arthur bites his lip, swallowing back, “Mmm... no, no I don’t. Unless it’s from a case that I forgot! Then maybe?” He shrugs, really really hoping that the spectator doesn’t break its one restriction. 

”Excuse me?”

Should he say this? Should he really- oh well! “We- we lost our memories a while ago! A lot of past cases are completely gone for me, and - Vi doesn’t even remember one of our members or-“

”Which.” They take a step closer to him, far too close than Arthur would have liked.

They’re practically chest to chest, and Arthur needs to strain his neck to look past their tie. 

He didn’t know what compelled him to say it, share this crucial information with someone so dangerous.

“Our best friend. He went missing the same night we lost our memorie- AH!” 

When they snatched his wrist, Lightning bolts shoot through his arm. Amplified by the metal joints twisting under the iron grip of the spectator. His wrist now arms length away forcing Arthur impossibly close.

“S-stop..”

”Why should I? Your best friend is missing? You coward! Parading around like you’re innocent! And you feigning ignorance won’t get you anywhere, you knew who I was in the cave, so what’s different?”

The shooting ripples of pain rocket through Arthur’s arm, electrifying his fingers and frying the nerves of his shoulder, but it was far easier to deal with in comparison to the heart pounding anxiety coursing through the rest of him. 

The chase, the drive. Each horrible second of running down that horrifically warm cavern, met only to the blood stained, magenta burnt stalagmites that seared themselves to his memory. Overlapped with the horrible night where Lewis’s screams echoed through every wall. Where the only thing he felt was a cold numbness and endless agony.

What was different? What WAS different?

Voice strained and shrieking, Arthur squints through the tears, “Stop it! Death will-“ 

”I’m already DEAD, Arthur! I fell to your hand, why do you keep running from the truth-?!” Lewis’s burning scalp burst into flame, melting away to reveal the same face Arthur winced at many times before- from photographs, to missing photos, to voicemails, to the cave.

NO! NO NO NO- DONT-!

His grip didn’t falter. 

“Lewis, have you already forgotten our deal?”

Lewis’s grip on his arm releases, allowing Arthur to tumble back- landing on his ass and pinning his metallic arm to his side, praying he could make the electrical sparks hurt any less. So much so that he completely missed the parental tone whispering in his ear. Soothing him with comforting words and encouraging him to- 

Not thinking straight, Arthur lets his metal arm fall numb- ignoring its jittery sparks- and reaches to his prosthetic shoulder. Disengaging the locks far quicker than he should have been able to. 

None of those thoughts came to mind, not until the arm clatters to the floor, and Arthur is left weak and gasping and sobbing from the electrifying burns encapsulating his bones and heart.

“Didn’t I make my conditions clear, Lewis Pepper? Bring you two here, to allow you both peace. And yet, you’ve broken my only rule. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Arthur does his best to not fall over, the horrible pain barely subsiding and offering any leeway for him. 

In fact, if he didn’t hold his breath, he wouldn’t have heard Death’s voice surrounding him. 

Something grazes his fried shoulder, what felt like a hand. Anywhere it’s palm rubs, a soothed feeling simply... took the pain. Relaxed his heart. Brought the overwhelming thoughts to a soft hum and not a powerful shriek. 

Allowed him the strength to turn back and see what scene had taken shape around them. 

No longer was their wall paper and stained glass murals on the wall, instead, everything took on a much more... angelic appearance. Each wall covered in faintly drawn eyes, all blinking and focusing on them all. 

”I must say, I am disappointed in you.”

”And?” Lewis dared, and it became noticeably more twisted, long, draping wings of all kinds lining the walls like curtains. 

And for once, Arthur wasn’t fearful. 

But Lewis sure was.

Crouched over on himself, Arthur blearily glances around the new interior of the room. Everything was reflective, and thus shone a brilliant purple and pink as Lewis's flame lit up their surroundings. 

Lewis was... closer to him. Arthur didn't even realize it at first until he realized he was trapped in the immense shadow towering over him, but Lewis's back was turned to him. 

The golden heart, at Arthur's side. 

Breathlessly, Arthur switches from the golden- *brilliantly* beating heart, and Lewis's furious stance- his shoulders tense and feet planted apart, both fists clenched and enveloped in fire and burning flames. 

Why...

"Who are you? Why do you stop me?" Lewis demands, his voice and anchor crack in equal measure. 

Arthur grabs it, confused and compelled, the fear radiating from it drew him closer. Maybe this can give us an advantage..? Maybe-

The wings bristle, puffing up, and Arthur shudders. A warm wind washing over them. An even calmer chuckle tickling his ears. 

Oh Lewis, you misunderstand. You too perished far too early, and that is why I wish to do everything I can for you to get the justice you deserve. But Arthur, is innocent. In terms that he did not commit the act of judgment, but one of my own. 

The stained glass dyes red. And all at once, the walls, glass, and floor, shatter.

#whumptober2019 #no.4 #mystery skulls animated #arthur kingsmen #Lewis pepper #Death #APARENTLY I HAVE A NEW OC AND THEYRE DEATh #and experimentation with the #header functionkjhgfdg;

[poison-basil]

Detective Richard Grayson - Chapter 7

Dick was worried after the call rang out for the fifth time. He’d called Tim because he wanted to talk about what had just happened, with Bruce just showing up in his apartment. Now he wants Tim to answer the phone just so he knows he’s ok, if he was busy there was usually an automated message that would come through and his phone couldn’t be off, since he wasn’t going straight to voicemail.

It was how four in the morning. He’d left some time between calls incase it was a bad time for Red Hood to pick up the phone. But nothing, nada, had gone through.

He knew he shouldn’t worry, that Tim could look after himself.

But there was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind. Telling him something wasn’t right.

Dick, so consumed in his internal worry almost didn’t hear the dull thump against recently closed window. He stares blankly for a moment before rushing over to the window. He looks out to see nothing but darkness of the early morning.

Taking a chance Dick opens the window and hears a quiet groan from below the window ledge. Looking down Dick sees Hood laid out on the fire escape hands clutching his side, blood seeping into his clothes.

“Fuck.” He breaths, climbing out of his window and crouching down next to the young vigilante. “You alright there Hood?”

Tim just groans back, his face twisted in pain. Dick quickly lifts him not wanting to waste time, he tries to be careful of any other wounds that he might have and carries Tim into the apartment and straight to the bedroom before laying him down. Silently glad he’d tidied his room recently.

Dick could hear the wheezing of Tim’s breath as he struggled with the pain.

Moving as quickly as possible he grabs the small first aid kit from the bathroom and brings it back to the bedroom with some towels that he’s grabbed on the way.

Tim is in the same position that he’d been left in. He hands shaking with effort to stay on his open side.

It’s time to get to work.

Tim lets out a pained whimper and Dick soothes back his damp, sweat soaked hair and presses a kiss to his forehead. “It’s ok Timmy. I’m going to look after you, but you’ve got to listen to me and help me when you can, ok?” He gets a weak nod back in return and Dick gets to it.

“I know this is going to hurt, but I need get the jacket off. I’m pretty sure the shirt is a lost cause so I’m just going to cut that.” Tim’s face pulls into a grimace as Dick removes the jacket as quick as he can. He helps Tim lie back down and grabs the scissors.

The wound on his side is deep and long, but the bleeding seems to have mostly stopped.

When Tim isn’t in so much pain Dick’ll ask him what had happened. But for how he’ll settle with just knowing that Tim is here. He has to push away the creeping despair that he could of lost Tim tonight.

Dick tries to think of the positives. Tim is here. With him. And not too hurt, he can manage this.

“You want something for the pain Tim?” He asks, Tim shakes his head so vigorously Dick becomes concerned that he might hurt himself. “Ok, ok…” Dick says, pulling the stuff he needs from the kit. “I know you’re brave Timmy, but this is going to hurt.”

Tim gives him a curt nod and scrunches his eyes closed. Limbs now oddly limp at his sides.

Must be something to do with his training Dick thinks, like the crazy alertness when asleep thing.

Taking a deep breath Dick sets to work.

About twenty minutes later Dick has finished bandaging up Tim and packing away the supplies.

Thankfully everything had gone well. Not of the stiches had slipped.

Tim had barely moved, his only sign of life was his breathing. It was worrying a little that when Dick was sliding the needle through his skin there wasn’t a flinch or even a peep from Tim.

He must have succumbed to exhaustion.

Dick watches as Tim body settles into the bed, his breaths coming out evenly now that the worst of it is over.

Dick grabs a blanket from the wardrobe and carefully places it over Tim.

He hasn’t said a word yet and it worries Dick a little, but he doesn’t want to push yet. He’ll let Tim sleep for a while. God knows he needs it.

Now that things have settled Dick can see other marks marring Tim’s pale skin. It looks like it was one hell of a fight that Tim was in before he got here. Bruises purpling the skin, to marks on his face, one on his right cheek bone and the other on his jaw.

Dick will take a look at them tomorrow when Tim is awake. He doesn’t want to risk waking him right now.

Dick hopes he didn’t distract Tim by calling earlier and get him into this trouble.

Tim’s not unprofessional enough to have his phone off silent when he’s patrolling.

That would be dumb.

But that doesn’t stop the guilt that's currently eating away at him as he watches Tim’s breathing even out as he falls into a deeper sleep. He’ll talk to him when he wakes up.

Dick didn’t want to disturb him, didn’t have the heart to. Tim found it hard enough to fall asleep as it was, never mind when he was hurting. The sleep debt that Tim has accumulated lately must of caught up with him.

Gently laying down next to him, trying his hardest not to wake him, Dick slides under the covers and watches Tim, the only might coming from the dawn light coming through the cracks of the curtains.

Before he knows it, he’s fast asleep too.

__________

A sharp digging sensation is what wakes Dick in the morning. Bleary eyes look around his room trying to figure out what's going on. A muffled groan to his left alerts Dick to someone else being in his bed. Looking over he sees Tim staring at him, unfocused and Dick is reminded about how he work up when Tim digs an elbow into him again.

“I’ve been trying to wake you for ages.” Tim says, his voice gravelly with sleep and slightly strained with pain.

Sitting up quickly Dick assesses him. Seeing if the bandages are still holding or whether they’ll need replacing soon. “Couldn’t have been trying too hard Timmy.” Dick smiles. Glad that they don’t need to be redone yet. But the bruises from Tim’s night are darkening and showing just how beat up Tim really is. “What happened last night?” He asks.

“Fucking Ninja.” Dick starts for a moment, hoping Tim will carry on, but the other and just stares at the ceiling. Mild annoyance showing on his face.

“Ninja?”

“Yeah, freaking Ra’s has decided to up the game. Sent ten of his men. I got out, but not before they got in a few lucky shots and put this wicked slice down my side. Thanks for helping me out by the way.”

“Any time Timmy.” Dick says, running a hand through Tim’s hair. “You need me to get you anything? Last night you didn’t want any meds so…”

“I’m good, I don’t want to take anything. Just incase the substance I got stabbed with last night reacts weirdly to it.”

“You were poisoned?” Dick mouth feels numb as he says it.

Tim shakes his head and starts to sit up, wincing a little as the stitches pull. “No, I think it was some sort of paralytic. Got out of there as soon as I started to to feel some weirdness.”

“What the fuck?”

“It’s ok Dick, I’m sadly kind of used to Ra’s doing weird shit like this. But thats why I was flat out on your fire escape when you saw me, could barely move anything. Glad your place was so close.” Tim laughs.

Sometimes, Dick really wants to shake Tim and ask him about his life choices, how did he get to this point? How can he laugh about being paralyzed on his fire escape?

What if Dick hadn’t been home and he’d had to go somewhere else?

Nausea bubbles up his throat at the thought of Tim falling from his grapple trying to make it somewhere else. It scares him, Tim could of died, the same way that his parents had.

Hot tears prickle his eyes.

Something hadn’t felt right last night. Maybe that was it. Dick takes Tim’s hand in his, squeezing harder than necessary but Dick just wants to feel the younger boys heat and life under his hands.

“How do you get yourself into these messes Timmy?” Dick whispers.

“Ah man, don’t cry Dick, I’m ok now.”

Dick takes in a shuddering breath. “I know, but Timmy, I could have lost you last night and been none the wiser. If you’d left that flight just a little later you could of fell and there would of been nothing you could do-” Dick chokes a little, “Nothing I could do to stop it. Again.”

“Whoa, hey Dick, it’s ok.” Tim sooths. Pulling Dick towards him, forcing him to kneel over the younger man. “I’m ok, I made it.”

“But you nearly didn’t.” Images of Tim and his parents lying broken on the floor. Blood pooling and their glassy eyes looking up at a Dick, silently judging him for not saving them.

For letting them slip through his fingers.

“But I did Richard.” Tim’s voice is grounding, bringing Dick out of his head. Chasing away the haunting images. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

“No, don’t be sorry, I just… I just thought that you were hurt, like normal hurt.” Dick cuts off for a moment. “Not normal but you get what I mean right?” It’s feels like he’s talking through cloth, trying to get Tim to understand that Dick expects Tim to get injured from time to time, but paralytics that's not normal. Not really.

Tim is smiling at him and Dick takes that to mean he does get what Dick is rambling about. “I know Dick.”

“I just- Seeing you like that was hard, I don’t see you like that Timmy. You usually go back to the cave when it’s bad and I see you after you’ve been put back to together. I just had to do and I couldn’t freak out because you needed me. Which is a good thing I guess, last night would of been horrible if I’d freaked out and couldn’t do anything.”

“Sorry I put you through that--”

Dick cuts him off and presses their foreheads together, looking deep into Tim’s violet rimmed eyes. “No, don’t apologise Tim. I’m just, I’ve never really thought about what happens out there you know? To you? It’s on another level what you do.”

Tim’s got this bewildered look on his face that Dick momentarily thinks is cute, the wide eyes and slightly parted mouth. Makes him want to lean down and capture those soft lips in a kiss.

“But you’re a cop, surely-”

“It’s different Tim. There are protocols in place for what I do. If something big is going down we call in the S.W.A.T teams and they deal with that, I always have my partner with me, I’m never alone out there like you are. I don’t have to worry about ninja!” Dick stresses.

“I have Batman and Red Robi-”

“But not all the time! Last night you were on your own and got attacked.” He takes in a trembling breath. “I don’t want to make it sound as though I don’t support what you do Timmy, I really do, you do so much good out there.”

Tim has linked his arms around Dick, pulling him in.

“But I’ve already lost you once, without knowing. And now that I have you, know what it’s like to hold you and be with you.” Dick brushes his lips against Tim’s, feels the younger man pull him in for more. “I don’t want to lose you.” Finally Dick leans in fully and kisses Tim.

“You won’t lose me Richard.” Tim says against his lips when they pull apart. “I wouldn’t lose this for the world.” He dives back in, this time more hungry and Dick can sense his desperation as his tongue begs for entrance.

Dick opens up willingly, letting Tim’s hot tongue run along his and into his mouth. The vigilantes hands run through his hair, pulling him impossibly closer and licking further into his mouth.

Just as Dick shifts for better leverage Tim lets out a pained groan that has Dick pulling away fast. Another pained noise leaves Tim and Dick looks down and sees that his knee is pushing into Tim’s side. “Fuck!” With flexibility Dick hasn’t really utilised for a while he gets off of Tim and the bed as quick as possible.

“It’s ok Dick.”

“I didn’t mean…” He trails off lamely.

“Dick it’s fine, I know you didn’t mean it you big idiot.”

“Hey!”

“Now make yourself useful.” Tim says, a cheeky grin on his face. “Go make me some coffee.”

Dick huffs a laugh before placing a kiss to Tims head. “Sure thing, short stack.” He say, making his way to the kitchen.

“I’m not short!” Tim shouts.

Dick laughs. It’s good to have Tim around.

#Detective!Dick #redhood!tim #DickTim #Tim Drake #dick grayson #My writing #myfic #chapter 7 #dcu

[unholyhelbiglinked]

Camp Beaverbrook | 011

CHECK OUT THE STORY FROM THE START HERE

TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter has a lot of blood in it, but also, so do the rest of them. 

Hey Mom,

Emily here. Who else would it be, though? I’m sure you’re expecting a phone call at some point but I don’t think I can bring myself to go in there. Not when Aubrey thought… It doesn’t matter. I got to meet Jane’s parents. They’re nice people. Normal people. Miss Eide has a job as a bank teller and I think Mr. Eide sells water heaters. They’re both taking breaks from that, though. Understandably. Maybe I’ll be seeing you a lot sooner than summers end.

Emily

The scent of blood wasn’t something Emily Junk had ever paid much mind to. When she was seven years old, she was dared by Nellie Zeeman to jump off the swings when the chains had creaked to their longest point, and she could practically touch the sky.

Emily had jumped off without a second conviction and she remembered the exact moment she landed in the mulch. She could technically taste the dirt that filled her mouth, the blood that mixed into an insane cocktail against her tongue. She had scraped her knee and red dripped down her bare leg. Nellie Zeeman ran the opposite direction before Emily’s lower lip quivered and she wailed. She could smell blood then.

She could smell blood now too.

It clawed at her throat like it had been slit with edging poison. It made her swallow roughly and it darkened her eyes to a different degree; Aubrey Posen was sat on the edge of a springy bed with a limp olive-green blanket that wasn’t tucked in all the way. Her hair was damp, and it clung to her shoulders.

The yellow shirt she wore was wet in different variants: where her locks fell, where her skin hadn’t dried, where a thick sanguine fluid wicked its way into the fabric of the tank top that had been woven in a factory somewhere in Ohio. Her hand was coated in rust and she shifted uncomfortably at the sound of the door opening. Emily panted, stunned.

She felt naïve at the thought that this was over, that it had stopped at one death. Maybe Jane had gotten lost in the woods and nature overtook every inch of the poor girl’s body until she had sunk into the soil herself. Emily hadn’t read the ME report. She hadn’t seen the body. She was foolish. Foolish and in overdrive.

“Oh my god, Aubrey.” Her words pushed through the thorns in her throat.

Emily had dropped down to her knees easily, not regarding the pain that shot through them as she carefully took Aubrey’s fingers. It was familiar, and Aubrey’s touch was chilled and clammy.

“No,” The blonde whispered stopping Emily by applying pressure to her stance, she pulled her onto the bed, their knees touching.“Don’t.”

Emily nodded and let Aubrey breathe in softly. The air in the cabin was musty. There were posters on the wall, boy bands that Emily had admittedly plugged into her cassette player in an attempt to enjoy the static-filled sound. Her mother refused to give her a disc man, but now that the little plastic boxes were dying out, she had no reason not to invest in one. This had to be Chloe’s cabin.

Chloe who had pulled her from her thoughts and her sleep when she rushed in to grab clothes for Aubrey in the first place. She didn’t’ bat an eye at her, instead, telling her where to find Aubrey. She was going to run towards Gail, sweet Gail, who had yet to pull the camp from function.  

“Chloe was, Chloe is, trying her best,” Aubrey spoke, her eyes were trained on the evenly placed laundry basket that was overflowing with gold and green. “Poor thing can’t stand the sight of blood though. I think I need to get someone to clean up the shower. It’s awfully messy in there and-“

Emily shifted her touch to the woman’s wrist. She could feel the rapid heartbeat against the inside of her index finger. It pounded like a drum. “Aubrey, stop.”

The blonde drew in a heaving breath but kept her mouth shut. She was clearly unbothered, or numb, to the amount of blood that was dripping against her arm. It had slowed, even now. But it was worrisome. Her pear colored eyes were widened, and her heartbeat continued to sound like a snare.

“I don’t know what happened,” She finally whispered. “I was showering. The water was getting cold because I guess I stood there too long. I always stand there too long.”

Emily nodded gently, eyes trying to search the girl’s face. A purple bruise was forming around the laceration and Emily tried her hardest not to stare.

“They came at me, Em. I- I could feel the wood splinter under the tip of that knife. It burned.” Her throat audibly tightened. It wasn’t the beginning of a cry, because this was more than that. This was a fear that shook Aubrey Posen’s body harder than anything ever had before. “It just burns.”        

Aubrey melted into Emily’s side. The younger girl was pretty sure she would vanish into the floor if she had the chance. Her nose was cold against the inside of her neck and scent of blood wasn’t so noticeable anymore. The way Aubrey was crying was. The way her whole body shuttered, and fingers dug into the fabric of Emily’s shirt. She was like a pine tree, unwavering in the wind, finally pulling its roots from the deeply packed fine soil.  

Her chocolate gaze flipped up to the door as it creaked open. Stacie Conrad was breathing heavily, a little less tactful about keeping her disdain towards the wound to herself. “Chloe told me you needed this I- Should I grab someone who can fix you up?”  

Aubrey straightened up and moved the length of her arm across the base of her nose, chin lifting slightly as she gave an easy and collected stare.

The archer looked a little sickly compared to the blue of the sky. Maybe Stacie didn’t like blood. If Emily hadn’t been exposed to the dangers of it when she was young, she supposed she would look a bit green too.

“No, it’s alright.” Emily objected. “I can do it.”

She took the first aid kit from Stacie, who hung by the door for a few moments before ducking out into the ever-cooling air. Emily didn’t waste time digging through the plastic case. She found alcohol wipes, padding, and some wrapped bandages. The rest were band-aids that could hold up against water. Anti-itch spray. Usual things that would be needed at a camp this size. Aubrey followed her with reddened eyes, she sniffed softly.

Emily was careful as she tore away the wrapping of the wipe. The toxic scent of antiseptic-coated her lungs as she kneeled on the bed next to Aubrey, one foot hanging off the side. “This might sting, just a little.”

Aubrey hissed as the cool wipe met the mostly open wound.

“You know, I used to volunteer at an animal shelter during the winter. The doctor there, he had a lot of free time, so he started to teach me a few things. You don’t need stitches so that’s good, it didn’t cut deep enough.”

“Okay,”

“Right,” Emily Junk didn’t do well with awkward silence, but she could respect Aubrey Posen’s need to be quiet. Her own mind was still buzzing with trauma. Jane Eide was dead and the girl she may have possibly felt a strong fondness for had been attacked in the showers. She struggled to silence her thoughts, and instead laid a pad of gauze down before wrapping the majority of Aubrey’s arm. “You’re all set.”

“Thank you, Emily.”

Aubrey stood herself, rolling her shoulders back as much as she could, her eyes darkening. Emily had seen it before; that rage hungry look that translated from pain. It made her freeze, feeling that edge of ice bite at her skin once more. She settled for playing with the fuzz at the end of Aubrey’s jacket, the fabric stretching past her wrist.

“Where are you going?”

“It’s fine,” Her voice was tender, “I just need to take care of a few things. Stay here if you want.”

Emily opened her mouth to object but was met by the screen door opening and closing. She stared at the way the lined material looked so vivid against the daylight as she blinked a few times before shoving off the bed herself and walking onto the creaking porch. Everything looked the same.

She wasn’t sure what she was expecting: A lake filled with blood, a sky harbored with rolling clouds ready to rain down acid. At least a police car to take a statement about a possible killer still on the campgrounds. Instead, there was nothing out of the ordinary. Aubrey looked distraught compared to her usual demeanor.

Emily found herself following at will, her sneakers crunching against the grass as she stopped right at the stony shore. She could smell the musk of the lake that always wore off the second her feet touched the mucky bottom in familiarity. This time she hung away, swallowing roughly as Aubrey’s boots met the far end of the dock.

Beca had a whistle in her mouth, letting the metal drop from her lips before she turned slightly on her heel. Her eyes were trained on the campers in the water, a few of them splashing around while others swam laps close to the ropes. She itched at the edge of her neck where her sweatshirt stood.

“Aubrey?” she turned completely, “Jesus dude, what happened?”

The taller woman shoved her hand down, knocking the clipboard from Beca’s grasp. The loud clang caught the attention of few, Beca glancing down before letting out a breath, her hardened eyes glowering at Aubrey. “What the hell, Posen?”

There was an immediate petal of blood the second Aubrey’s fist connected with the right side of Beca’s face. The sound was unmistakable, knuckles against bone and a string of profanities as Beca stumbled back, her shoe skidding against the edge of the dock before she caught herself- before Aubrey caught her and pulled her forward by the neck of her sweatshirt.

Emily’s throat tightened as the fond scent of rust hit her nose. She reached forward and grasped the base of Aubrey’s tank top, quickly searching for a place that wouldn’t’ wound the girl further, a dark red soaking through the pad of cotton on her shoulder.

“You’re fucking dead, Mitchell!”

“Get off of me!”

Beca struggled to push the girl’s hands away as Emily pulled back even harder to no avail. She moved her hands against the woman’s side, ducking under her arm completely to create a barrier between the head counselor and the water sports director. Her fist was raised, but her eyes quickly lightened, features softening as her lips parted and her hand dropped.

“Stop it! Both of you!” Emily shoved Aubrey back slightly “Go cool off.”

“I’m gonna-“Aubrey took a shaky breath, a step back, even “Yeah.”

She shook her head, eyes sharp as she blinked towards Beca. Aubrey drew in a breath and walked down the rest of the dock. Emily’s clouded eyes followed her frame as she departed, feet heavy and fingers clutching at the dull ache visible on her shoulder.

“What the fuck was that about?” Beca asked,  grabbing her clipboard from the wooden dock. Emily hadn’t noticed how unstable it felt. A deep shade of brick was smeared across her arm where she had struggled to steel the laceration on her cheek. An ugly shade of blue and purple was already blistering against pale skin.

“Sorry, she uh-“Emily fretted “You’re okay?”

Beca pressed her fingers close to the blood, pulling back and rubbing it between her thumb and index finger before glowering up at her. “Yeah, Em. I’m fine.”      

#Beca Mitchell #Chloe Beale #bechloe fanfiction #bechloe #Emily Junk #Aubrey Posen #junksen #junksen fanfic

[starksinner]

My Empire of Dirt

Summary: The Avengers, torn apart after the signing of the Accords, are faced with their greatest battle yet, the rise of Thanos. What no one expects is for Thanos to kill Tony Stark in front of the Avengers’ eyes. Among them, stood Y/N Stark, screaming as her father lay lifeless on the ground, no longer breathing; no longer standing as Iron Man. With the Avengers broken apart; will Y/N be able to assemble the broken team to avenge the man who brought them all together?

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Suicide, Death, Angst, Mentions of Sex, Fluff

Song: Hurt by Johnny Cash

I hurt myself today

To see if I still feel  

“Fuck! Shit - God, Y/N  s-stop drinking! Stop doing that to yourself!” Steve grabbed the bottle of whiskey from her hands, prying the coping mechanism out of her reach.

The sour and vile taste of alcohol had seemed to be the only thing keeping Y/N alive for the last several hours. The whiskey slipped into her mouth, nullifying her, numbing all the pain of reality in favor of something more tonic. It seemed to be her only cure.

“You killed him,” She slurred, readjusting her body as she lay slump against the floor of the Avengers compound. “You blamed him for everything, now he’s dead … and you’re gonna’ blame him for that, too,”

“Y/N, you need to get up-”

“His worst fear was seeing all of you dead … he didn’t want to be the one to kill the Avengers …  but you … you killed him, Steve.”

She gripped her shirt tightly and bunched the fabric between her fingers as if the cotton material was a piece of her broken heart. She began to shake and whimper as a familiar pain shot through her chest. It was heartbreak. It was agony. It was hell.

I focus on the pain

The only thing that’s real  

“Y/N …” Steve let his hands clench into fists as he watched her struggle against the floor. She looked to be clawing at the cold tile with her finger nails, muttering small nothings at the ground. “You’re d-drunk - you need to just get up …”

“I - God,”

The rawness of her screaming and crying almost brought Steve to his knees as she clung to the wall for support, her sobs filling the halls of the tower. Her lips and whole body trembled as tears flooded down her bruised cheeks, streams of blood washing down with them.

“I, I’m gonna’ kill myself … I - I can’t do this - I - I can’t,”

She grunted as she slammed her palm against the ground, trying to drag herself over to the table, where her red and gold pistol lay.

“No - no - Y/N!” Steve finally jumped forward and grabbed her by her arms, yanking her frail figure from the dust.

Y/N sobbed until her throat was rough and scratched. She was aching for air. Aching for life. Aching to breathe - to really breathe. The sting in her chest arrived again; and she thought the grief was finally going to kill her. She thought it was going to end her. She couldn’t take it; she was going to die.

The needle tears a hole

The old familiar sting

“Get off of me!” She screamed, punching at Steve’s toned back as he swung her over his shoulders. “Fuck you! Let me go! Let me go!”

The protective material of his black suit was poking at her ribs. Her body was becoming weak as she found no strength in fighting him anymore.

She didn’t want to fight anymore. She was so done with fighting. Fighting foes - fighting Steve - fighting herself.

Her fingers were purple; her skin was torn; her heart was broken; every piece of her was gone, and it could never be fixed. She never thought that seeing death - seeing a person die right in front of your face -  could bring so much real, physical pain to your soul. That’s what it felt like - a stab into her soul.

“Bucky?” Steve wandered into Y/N’s bedroom, gazing up at his best friend.

Bucky stood at her bed, looking at her small body that Steve held onto so tight - so close.

Steve Rogers was crying now. Tears fell down his face and along his lips. The droplets rolled off his chin and onto the ground. They hit the floor like small gunshots - the silence was killer - his tears mixed with her whimpers - it sounded like a gun fight - it sounded like a war.

Y/N cried out as she felt a pair of two large hands wrap around her waist, pulling her out of Steve’s strong grasp.

“It’s okay, doll. I have you.” Bucky told her as he laid her down upon her mattress. His touch was soft and easy; but she kept fighting against him - it was like he was torturing her.  

She fought against her sheets until she felt Bucky’s cool metal finger touch a burn mark on her face, caressing the injury ever so softly.

For all the time they’d been together; Y/N had always fascinated with the metal plates of his arm. The coolness of the metal, the red star that use to reside near his shoulder; it all seemed so perfect and comforting; in some weird, twisted way.

Bucky admired her for it - loved her for it. He loved the fact she didn’t care about it’s power. He loved the fact that she didn’t see it as a reminder. A reminder that the man she lays with every night has a dark and brutal past.

She just sees it as a part of him.

“J-James …” She whispered, her eyes shutting in weight. Bucky concentrated on the way his name rolled off her lips - so broken and in pain. Deep, agonizing pain.

His blue eyes bore into hers as he fought the need to whimper in bed next to her. He fought the need to bury himself into the mattress and hold her close - wrap his arms around her waist - bring her head against his chest - help her piece herself together again.

He couldn’t help but feel so broken. Seeing her in such a withered state - it was breaking him. It made him want to break.

“Kill … Kill me …” She cried, muffling her whimpers into the pillow she rested on.

The intoxication of her breath didn’t go unnoticed as Bucky leaned down closer to her face, tracing his fingers ever so lightly against her tear stained cheeks.

Her eyes were filled with a fire and a desire for more alcohol - a way to kill the pain - a way to kill her mind, maybe even herself.

Everything hurt. Every cell in her body. Every thought in her mind. She needed it to stop - she wanted every thing to stop …

“Bucky - please. I can’t handle - kill me - kill … kill me,”

Bucky shut his eyes as the words she muttered - the words she cried out - began digging holes against the pit of his soul.

She was begging for death. She was craving that ending. The easy way out.

“Baby - don’t say that. Don’t say that … don’t say that,” He whispered, moving a piece of hair out of her face. Tears welded in the corner of his eyes as his blue ones gazed into hers - searching for life, hope, meaning - anything he could hold onto. But he saw nothing. He saw nothingness.

He only saw darkness.

“You are - you’re an assassin,” She whispered, her voice the only sound in the cold, dark bedroom. “ … you’ve killed - you killed my grandparents - you can kill me, too … you can end me … I can’t live - not without him - I - I can’t!��

Try to kill it all away

But I remember everything

“God - she - she’s drunk, Buck,” Steve killed the falling silence.

Bucky felt as though his heart was being killed by poison. He stood frozen at her bedside - rough, emotionless - just peering down at her as she mumbled cries into the sheets and begged for someone to end her life.

She had mentioned her grandparents. Tony’s parents. She said he killed them. He killed them - and she was begging for the same fate - she was begging to be killed by The Winter Solider.

“Buck-” Steve was now behind him, reaching out and gripping his shoulder tightly. “-she doesn’t mean what she’s saying … she’s drunk and - confused.”

Bucky looked back down at her messy H/C hair sprawled out across her pillow. She had begun crying again - yelling even - she was groaning pleads for help up at the ceiling.

“Steve,” Bucky whispered, looking up into Steve’s blue stare. “I - I think I have to go.”

“Bucky,”

“I can’t be with her,” He backed away from the bed, wavering his eyes from her trembling body. “… not right now. With everything that’s happened, I - uh - I need to go find T'Challa.”

“She doesn’t mean that, Buck. You know that, right?” Steve pulled on Bucky’s arm, pulling him out of Y/N’s ear reach. “She just witnessed her Dad get … killed - right in front of her eyes … I’ve never seen her like this - this is all because...”

Steve shut his eyes. It was at that moment that everything just felt so real. It didn’t feel like some dream - or different reality.

“Tony’s dead … God - fuck man!”

“Steve - I - I’ve just gotta’ go,” Bucky pleaded, rubbing his face anxiously.

“I gotta’ go.” Bucky’s eyes wandered to her body on the bed, her screams muffled by the blankets she had thrown over herself. “ I just, I can’t.”

What have I become …

My sweetest friend?

Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers had left the compound one week ago.

She didn’t know if grief was suppose to give a person such a deep perception of time; but she just knew how long she’d been alone.

It felt like an eternity that she’d been banging on the doors of her bedroom; begging anyone; any soul; to let her free.

Every gun, weapon, or sharp object had been removed. Under her bed, under the floor boards, inside the walls; all of her hiding places had been compromised. It was like everyone knew she was a danger. A danger to herself - maybe that was the most toxic.

They left me here to die, she couldn’t help but think. They left me here to die because they couldn’t do it themselves.

Steve and Bucky had left her with her thoughts. Her thoughts - her mind - maybe they were more diabolical then any pistol or explosive ever could be.

Everyday, when F.R.I.D.A.Y spoke to her - automatically restocking the food cabinet in her room and supplying a hot meal through the food drop - a little compartment she created with Bruce -  the AI’s voice was only a reminder of her father’s creations. Her father’s legacy.

The Avengers compound. The Iron Man suit prototypes. The labs. The tactical gear. The quinnjet. Everyone’s personal attire.

It was all him.

It was all Tony Stark.

It was all Iron Man.

And even he left her alone.

Even though he promised he wouldn’t.

Everyone I know goes away

in the end

Peter Parker was presumed dead.

A sixteen-year-old kid from Queen’s was dead, because he was fighting in a war no one should be apart of.

Thanos was killing off The Avengers - innocent people - soldiers of war; one by one; day by day; fighters would head into battle and return home in a body bag.

Peter Parker was dead.

Spider-Man was dead.

The kid who would turn red when she walked into a room because of a stupid, little crush.

The shy, science nerd who would stutter over words because his nerves would get the best of him.

The kid she always hung out with on movie nights because they were the biggest Star Wars fans in the room.

Her friend - maybe even her best friend. Her teammate. Peter was dead. Peter was dead.

The need to live was quickly leaving her.

Everyday, she struggled to find anything that would give her life meaning again - to give her the need to keep fighting  - to keep awake.

James was gone. Bucky had left her - for good.

His shirts that she loved to wear- the red Henley that smelled exactly like him. His tactical gear, his guns. His photo’s and memory journals.

Everything was gone - including him.

A voice inside her head kept saying that he wasn’t coming back. He didn’t want her in his arms anymore - he didn’t need her anymore. She was broken - far too fallen for him to fix. Then again, how could he fix her - when he was still picking up his own broken pieces?

He just didn’t need her anymore.

Y/N knew - she knew - that no one was coming back.

The compound is quiet when there are no God’s or super soldiers walking around, yelling at each other or training hard at the gym.

Everything is quiet when you’re alone; completely and utterly alone.

It had been two months since her father’s death.

Two months of Bucky’s texts and calls; ways of communication she completely ignored.

Two months of Steve’s worried visits - the look on his face every time - he always looked at her like she was some pathetic, broken child.

Two months of Pepper having left the country on Y/N’s orders. She wasn’t too happy about that - neither was Y/N - but pushing people away seemed to be the only way to protect them.

Maybe she was like her father more then she thought.

After weeks of being unable to move, Y/N found herself showering and putting on a new outfit of clothes.

For the first time since the ’Infinity War’ had started, she decided to step into her father’s lab. The tech, the suits, the AI; it was all coming back to her like a tidal wave of emotions.

This was all him. The sleepless nights, the cuts and bruises, the anxiety; this was Tony Stark’s empire. An empire that he had left behind - and now - it was just gathering dust.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, who owns all of this?”

Her fragile fingers danced over the Iron Man mask that laid on one of the lab tables. The red and gold paint had been damaged from the wounds of battle, as had the prototype suit that was hung against the wall.

“What ever do you mean, Miss Y/N?”

Y/N walked over to the hall of computers surrounding a tiny little office desk - her office desk - and hesitantly picked up a tablet, displaying the blueprint of the compound. “All of my father’s stuff. The suits. The compound. Everything.”

“According to your father’s will - if Ms. Pot’s were unable to run Stark Industries at the time of his death - everything would be left to you. Everything is left to you, Miss Y/N.”

And you could have it all

My empire of dirt

Staying awake for 72 hours was not a good idea to begin with. It was becoming a burden to her health - but she had no desire to stop working.

She couldn’t - not after two months of rest, of sweating in grief - she had wasted precious time. That was not going to happen any longer.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, how long will it take for a new paint job?”

Y/N fiddled with the last minute pieces of the Iron Man suit, fixing up the internal hardware.

For the past three days, she worked on new weaponry for the suit and extra armor for protection. Y/N had also decided to fix the height and shape of the titanium armor to better suit her own body shape.

She was going to fight. But she wasn’t going to fight herself - not anymore. She was going to fight what did this to her - to him. It was in her blood, it was in her rage - it was her duty. It was her meaning of being alive.

“Roughly about three hours, Miss Y/N.” The AI responded quickly.

Wiping her forehead and sweaty palms on a dirty rag, Y/N backed away from her work and shrugged. “Alright, F.R.I.D.A.Y. Let’s give it the red and black look, shall we?”

“Y/N?”

“Barnes, where are you?” Y/N put her phone on speaker and threw it on top of her bed. She sat at the edge of her mattress, glaring around her bedroom as only silence answered.

“I’m, uh, I’m in Wakanda - Y/N, you haven’t answered my calls or texts-”

“Ask T'Challa to get you a flight out here today. I need you back at the compound. It’s an emergency.”

“Y/N-”

“I’ll see you soon, Barnes.” She reached her arm over her bed, tapping her phone screen and ending the call. She let out a deep breath - one she didn’t know she was holding. She clutched her phone against her chest and steered back down to the lab.

“Y/N - what’s goin’ on? Y/N?” Bucky’s loud footsteps ran down to the basement, causing Y/N to jerk her head up from her computer screen.

“God! Hey, Buck.” She grinned as she watched him step down the stairs, a new look of scruff running across his jaw.

When was the last time I smiled? Was it with him?

Bucky wore a dark brown leather jacket and blue jeans, a totally different look then his usual war armor and tactical gear. His shoulder length hair had been cut at the top of his head, although some strands still fell beautifully against his forehead.

He looked clean -  refreshed. He looked alive.

“Nice haircut, Bud. Are you tryna’ impress me or somethin’?” She stood up from her comfy office chair and began twirling a pen between her fingers, leaning her hip against the desk she worked at.

Bucky’s lips parted slowly - but he stood still and unresponsive. She tried to search for something in his eyes - but she was distracted - he just stood there, staring at her.

“Is there a problem? You’re looking at me all funny.” She tilted her head to the side, absentmindedly organizing some files that laid on the work table.

“Two fucking months,” Bucky dropped his bags suddenly and stormed into the laboratory. “You don’t answer me for two goddamn months-”

“I’ve been busy,” She told him calmly.

“You’ve been busy?” He repeated. “I’ve been busy thinking you were fucking - I don’t know - dead or captured - or I don’t fucking know! If Steve didn’t visit, I-”

“I’m alive. Unfortunately.” She wiggled past his large figure, trying to escape the loud sound of his anger. “I’m sorry I made you worried.”

Bucky glared at her, watching as her E/C eyes avoided him like the plague.

“You’re just gonna - ignore me - like I’m nothing to you? You’re just gonna ignore this - us?” He took a deep breath as he watched her trying to avoid his stare.

“I didn’t call you here to talk about us, Buck-”

Bucky quickly reached out and took hold of her wrist, spinning her back around so she could face him.

“What about us?” He spit harshly, repeating his same words. “Are you gonna pretend that these two years didn’t happen? That we were nothing? That we are nothing? You’re looking at me as if I’m a total stranger-”

Her E/C eyes stared up at him wearily. She grunted as he tried to pull her arm from his heavy grasp. “I can’t do a relationship right now. I can’t think about that now, Buck.”

She whined as she struggled to move past his large body again. “… I just can’t give you want you need, James. Okay? I can’t give you that love anymore. You know I can’t - that’s why you left.”

Bucky let go of her wrist as he felt a poison run down his throat. Every wrenching emotion he could consume was fighting for dominance as the grueling pain of heartbreak felt like death against his beating heart. She was just giving up on him.

“I came - because I thought. We would be okay.” His eyes softened as he turned back to her.

“James. Nothing - nothing is ever going to be the same.” (Y/N) turned back around to see a dreadful look etched across his face. “My Dad … he never approved of our relationship - you know, the - uh- age gap, your past, just … everything … it’s been complicated, for so long … I can’t anymore, Bucky.”

“That’s, that’s why you’re breaking us apart? Because of-”

“Because of a dead man’s wishes? No. I can’t do this. I’m not able to. I physically and emotionally cannot love you like that. Not anymore.”

I will let you down

I will make you hurt

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed together as Y/N stared up at the ceiling and let out a long sigh.

She was digging her nails into her palms to keep from crying - she was trying to hold her emotions steady - she was trying to hold up her walls - but they were at risk of falling down again.

“I called you because I need your help. You’re the first person I thought of … because I trust you. I can trust you with all this.”

Y/N walked over to the large bundle of computer screens that aligned one of the many work desks.

Bucky hesitantly followed her, trying to make sense of the code that flooded the electronic screen as she furiously typed on the keyboard. “What is that?”

She pressed a couple of keys and entered a pass code into the computer’s database. “Give me a sec,”

The panels along the walls of the lab opened up, revealing a new, smaller iron suit with a red and black colour code. Y/N glared back at the screen before backing away and shifting her focus.

“You - you made that?” Bucky silently examined the new white arch reactor in the middle of the chest as he watched her admire her own work.

“In only seventy two hours. I’m really proud of myself, actually.” Y/N walked over to the new superhero suit and placed her hand against the titanium alloy material.

She glared back across at Bucky, leaning into his comfortable grey stare. Maybe that’s what she’d been missing - some familiarity - his familiarity.

“I’m gonna’ kill Thanos. I need your help to get our team back.”

Her soft, E/C eyes stared into his for what felt like an eternity. He’d gotten lost in them before - and now was no different.

She wore the most innocent look she could, knowing that she was asking for a lot; she was asking for a damn miracle.

“Our - uh - team?” Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed together, his stance hardening as he sized her up. “Like the Avengers? You know that’s done, Y/N. It’s been done for a long time.”

“Then we have to get together again! We gotta’ stop this guy, Buck. I can’t do this alone. I’m ready …” She sighed and shook her head. “ … to not do this alone.”

She fiddled with a red handled screwdriver from the desk next to her as her nerves began threatening to explode in front of the one person whom she had gained composure for.

Bucky’s shoulders stiffened as he examined the dark circles under her eyes and her frizzy hair that seemed to be paying no attention to the laws of physics. He had hoped she had been finally taking care of herself. But maybe, he was reading into the situation too quickly.

“You haven’t been sleeping.” He tilted his chin up. “Have you?”

She let out a blow of air through her nostrils and focused her eyes to the ground.

Bucky sighed loudly and gripped onto the tough material of his jacket. “C'mon Y/N.Ya’ gotta’ stop this … You’re … killin’ yourself.”

He wasn’t helping. He wasn’t helping the situation, at all.

Bucky was staring at her as if she was some child; a child who needed to be put in their place; a child who was uneducated and unaware of the issues of the world because of their profound innocence. He was talking to her like she was stupid.

Now a days, people only looked at her like she was.

Y/N asked him to come to the compound to help; not to study her and make sure she was mentally stable. She wasn’t going to have that.

“Barnes - you are not my therapist. Who cares about my sleeping patterns? Or any of that?”

Her eyes shot daggers into the front if his skull. “Do you not understand the extent of everything? Everything that’s happening around us? I’m trying to fight back - I’m asking for your help to fight. Not to save me.”

“I care.” He shot sternly. “I care if you sleep. I care about you. I care if you are hurting yourself - because I can see - that you are.”

“Dammit, James!” She smacked the screwdriver against the desk, her veins filling with pure, red rage. “Stop treating me like a child! You’ve always treated me like a fucking delicate, little flower and you gotta’ stop with that shit! I can take care of my fucking self!”

I wear this crown of thorns

Upon my liar’s chair  

She stepped right up to him, her chest to his, her feet to his, her rage to his.

She was ready to just - burst. To release all of her pent up anger and aggression. She was so agitated and done.

But there he went. He went and bore his magnificent, pearl blue eyes into hers. She felt like she was melting against him - she felt like water thrashing against a cold cliff. The look he gave her caused a shiver to rush across every inch and every curve of her skin.

“He killed my father.” Her voice transformed into a hushed whisper - a shivering, little whimper. “Peter hasn’t come home yet …” She was on the verge of tears. Her eyes were glassy and swollen. “… Everyone knows - everyone thinks he’s dead … You can’t just expect me to stand around and watch - as he kills you, too … I can’t just let that happen.”

Bucky’s lips were parted and raw. He wanted to say something - anything. Everything she spoke was hitting him like a tone of bullets - a tone of ripping claws stabbing at his heart.

“I’m not gonna’ let you - just - walk into the line of fire … Everywhere is the line of fire, now - I can’t risk loosing you, doll. I -”

“I’ve been in battle before, Bucky. I’m trained - I have the ability to stop everything - with everyone’s help - I can help end this. I can avenge them-”

“I’m not going to let you die.” Bucky shouted, pointing his finger to her chest. “I don’t know what I would do with myself - if I let you - if you - if you were gone, too …”

Full of broken thoughts

I cannot repair  

“You don’t have to agree with my plan,” She shrugged her shoulders, wandering her eyes to the laces of her shoes. “But you need to know - you can’t stop me. I just need your help. I need the Avengers back.”

Her words rocked in his brain like a boat travelling on bumpy terrain. He was conflicted against helping her or keeping the one thing he loves most in this world safe.

He was conflicted against keeping her safe. He wanted her tucked under his arm as they watched the morning sun somewhere far far away from here. Anywhere. Anywhere were he could keep her safe.

She was diabolical - he learned that the first day he met her - but this could end in all the wrong ways. He didn’t know if he was willing to risk his chances.

This girl was too important. She was his world. His being. His identity. He wouldn’t be able to function without her, without Y/N.

“Just to make you happy, doll - I’ll help you. You know I’ll always help you … I’m never gonna’ turn you down.”

Beneath the stains of time

The feelings disappear

“This isn’t about my happiness, Bucky.” Y/N tilted her chin up, glaring at his crystal eyes like a perfect ocean landscape.

He didn’t walk out. She thought he would’ve. She would’ve.

“This is about saving the world. That’s what superheros do … That’s what my Dad did … It’s what I’m gonna do - it’s what I gotta’ do … I’m trying to be a hero.”

Bucky slowly removed his leather jacket, throwing it upon the chair Y/N was working at before he entered.

A small smile formed on his lips as he turned back towards her, staring at her legs as she propped herself up on a desk and swung her feet.

“Alright then, doll,”

His smile was angelic; but all too fake. No one should look so happy - so willing. Not in a time like this - not in a war. An Infinity War.

A time when the strong were dying and the weak were craving deadly power. This wasn’t like the other wars they fought. This wasn’t like the war Bucky fought within himself. This was new territory. A new reason to be afraid.

You are someone else

I am still right here

“Where do we start?”

“Steve? Steve, can you hear me?”

For a second -  an almost infinite moment - the only reply Y/N received was the noise of static. Static was a hard response to revive when you know that at any time, any day, any place - the enemy could kill your best friend’s and deprive them of giving you any real response.

They could take away their voice forever. It was a part of war - the killing - but it was a part (Y/N) was unwilling to grasp. To really grasp.

“Y/N? Why,” Steve Rogers. It was him. He was okay. God - he was fucking okay.

There was sudden silence. C'mon Steve … Give me somethin’.

“Y/N, why are you calling on the coms?” Steve’s voice was clear and loud now. “I don’t even know the last time we used these. Way back when - I guess.”

“I can’t compromise your whereabouts.” Y/N found herself grinning, finding just the sound of his voice a happy strain. “It’s so good to hear from you. I’m just happy - you’re okay.”

Steve was silent again. As Y/N pressed the com system further into her ear, she flinched at the feeling of body heat hunching over her back. Bucky was behind her, finding sudden interest in the computer screen in front of her.

“You don’t know how great it is to hear your voice; I’ve wanted to come see you - but - uh - things have been goin’ down and it’s-”

“Not safe,” She nodded to herself, running her fingers over a manila file folder that she held in her lap.

“Is everythin’ good? For you to reach out - not that I don’t love hearin’ your voice - it’s just - you haven’t called - in a really long time.” Steve’s voice was seemingly hoarse, as if he just woke up.

“I need to talk about some things. It’s important … I know you know where people are, Steve.”

His silence did not give her a good feeling.

“I need the Avengers back. We all gotta’ meet, Steven. We can’t be separated anymore. We gotta’ be together in a time like this … It’s the only way we’re gonna’ survive.”

“Y/N - I can’t just-”

“Please. The compound - next week - it’s safe here. You have to trust me. There’s higher security than ever, there’s Bucky-”

“What? Bucky? Buck’s with you?”

“Steve, please. Tell everyone. Every damn person you know; every Avenger. We all have to be here; together. We gotta’ do this together.”

She could hear him shuffling around - his muscles were probably tensing, his jaw clenched. He was like Bucky, she knew he didn’t like her plan.

But it’s all she had. Options were no longer possible.

“I’m, I’ll try. Next week - we’ll be there.”

(/N shut her eyes for a moment, trying to bring herself into a sense of reality. Her mind was filling with thoughts of everything that could go wrong - everything that probably would. “Stay safe. Be safe.”

She took the com piece out of her ear and lightly tossed it on the table, shoving her palms over her eyes.

Why did everything feel like an extra weight was pressuring her to the ground? Everything she said felt wrong. Her eyes were trying to close out the pain. Her mind was becoming light and …

“How is he?” Bucky asked, moving back to his work station. He was tinkering with his metal arm again, hoping to improve it in anyway possible.

She blinked her eyes open, trying to get rid of the black dots that were straining against her vision.

“Uh, Stevie is - uh - he’s … sceptical. Like you were.” Y/N slumped down against the back of her chair, pressing her fingernails into the plush cushion.

“You wanna’ go back on a suicide mission. You couldn’t have just expected me to agree with you.”

“I thought that’s what a stupid hero was,” She mumbled, dragging her lip between her teeth. “Risking your life for the sake of something greater …”

Bucky ticked his tongue against the top of his mouth and ran his fingers through his short brown locks. He was all too nervous - she was making him so damn nervous.

“I ain’t ever gonna’ be okay with knowing you’re out there riskin’ your life. That’s something that I’m never gonna’ agree with.”

Y/N let out an inaudible grunt, lifting her feet from the ground. She grabbed onto the desk and pulled herself towards him, the wheels of her desk chair sliding easily over the ground.

“I need a drink,” She whispered cooly, refusing to break eye contact with him.

Bucky’s brown eyes flooded into her own, and he couldn’t help but feel absolutely stuck in the way her eye’s dazzled dangerously and how her lips seemed so wet and plump.

Sensually, she reached her arm over his desk and grabbed the bottle of Scotch that had gone missing under the pile of loose papers.

“I miss drinking with you,” She mumbled, unscrewing the top of the bottle. Her eyes followed the trail of his sharp jawline back up to his perfect eyes. “Those nights were always so fun.”

Bucky found himself genuinely smirking - smirking at the way her cheeks grew red as the flaming alcohol hit against her tongue.

It’s how most of their Friday nights use to go. Y/N would go to one of her father’s fancy parties and Steve would force Bucky to go with. He always caught her drunk in an empty hallway or corner - a bottle of expensive taste pressed harshly against her lips.

It was how they first ended up in bed together. Maybe not the most romantic of stories; but it seemed the most spontaneous.

“You tryna’ flirt with me, Stark? You tryna’ get me somewhere?”

“What’d ya’ say we both share this,” She gripped his knee, her fingers dancing against the heavy material of his jeans.

Bucky had to break eye contact. He felt himself straining against the material of his pants - she was making him do that. She was making him feel things - things that he had tried to run away from …

Y/N gripped his knees and opened his legs, enough so she could snuggle in between them. “I wanna go back to my room. I wanna feel you around me. Remember? Like we use to be? How close we use to be?”

“Stark,” He clapped his eyes shut, trying not to focus on the feeling of her fingers pressed against his body. “Don’t get me there, Y/N …”

“I love when you get so overprotective. You look so damn good when you get mad at me,” Her voice was a blissful, sinful moan. A heavenly sound Bucky wanted to hear for the rest of his life.

“You get me mad, Barnes. You get me so mad but I just can’t stop looking at you. D'you know what you do to me?”

“Fuck, Y/N,”

“You make me feel. You make me feel what it is to be human. No one can handle me like you do …”

“Doll, c'mon,” Bucky warned, his hands quickly grabbing at her wrists to remove her touch. “You know what you do to me. Don’t make me fall apart yet.”

“Barnes-”

“I don’t wanna just jump into things. I need to let things settle first, doll. We gotta’ focus on all this now, right?”

“You came back because you wanted me. Now you don’t?” Y/N’s eyes softened gradually as Bucky watched the lust leave her body.

“Let things play out, yeah? I got The Avengers to worry about now - and - I gotta’ keep my eye on you, pretty girl.”

1 week later

It was a sullen Friday night, the night before all the Avengers were expected to meet at the compound; together; as a team; and hopefully, as a family again.

Y/N was in a compromising position. A position that two weeks ago, while she was unable to move out of her bed, would have had to be some sort of fantasy, a dream even.

But there she was, laying on her bed, her breathing unsteady, her feet tangled with Bucky’s. His arms were wrapped around her waist, pulling her into his side.

She said to him she couldn’t do a relationship. She said she couldn’t love him anymore.

As her head was against his chest, listening to the speed of his heartbeat, she knew she had to tell him this was a mistake; a poor lapse of judgement.

She was just lonely, she thought of telling him. She just needed someone to lay with again, for some sense of comfort, familiarity.

But that was a lie. And she was so sick of the lies. She was so sick of the pain. She loved him, she would do anything for this man; the man who she hurt repeatedly, but the man who wouldn’t stop loving her.

If I could start again

A million miles away

“I can’t believe you,” He whispered softly, running his fingers through her hair. “I missed you so much, doll.”

Y/N ran her hands against the broadness of his chest, pulling herself up towards him.

“I’m sorry.” She said softly, her breath uneven. “ For everything I did to you. You didn’t deserve the shit I said Bucky-”

His calloused, but soft fingertips danced across her skin as he outlined his finger against her neck and collarbone.

“Don’t you ever apologize for nothing, baby. You did nothing.”

Y/N let his scent glorify her as she sighed in content. She felt relaxation from the feeling of his metal arm wrapped oh so protectively around her waist.

“Too much has happened, doll,” He continued. “So damn much has happened to you.”

Bucky’s index finger followed the line of her smile. He was memorized by her beautiful grin, the soft, kind curl of her gorgeous pink lips.

“When you walked out that day,” She placed her hand against his chest. That heartbeat. His heartbeat.

“I remember my heart stopping - it stopped - I swear it did … I thought you were never coming back.”

“I was stupid, baby,”

“I never blamed you, though. I wouldn’t come back to me, either. I was a wreak.”

Bucky pressed his elbows into the mattress, sitting up from his laying state. He held Y/N in place as he leaned against the headboard, pulling her up so she was straddling his lap.

“I’ll always come back to you, doll.” He brushed her hair back, his touch lingering. “I’m never gonna’ leave you. Not ever again, baby.”

It was passionate and sweet. The kiss they shared. His hands cupped her cheeks and she touched upon his shoulders with such a gentleness that seemed almost uncharacteristic.

She was a Stark at heart. Fierce and vile; kind but deadly. For her touch to be so soft, for her words to be so hushed; it was different.

“You know I love you, James,” She whispered, holding his body close.

Their breaths were synced, less heavy and shaky then they were at the end of their dance. They seemed more at peace. Everything was moving so fast - too fast - but right then - in that moment - the world felt like it was spinning slower, just for them.

“Till’ the end of the line, baby… Always with you …”

Miracles were fantasy, in her opinion. A stupid dream everyone hoped and prayed for. Everyone wants a reality different from their own, everyone hates the mess of life - the horror of minutes, slowly, just passing.

But as she found herself wrapped in the arms of Steve Rogers, smiling at Natasha Romanoff’s cool smirk, laughing at Thor’s joyous welcome, and shaking her head at Rocket bickering with Quill, she thought that a miracle - a dream - a good dream - had finally come true.

“Y/N,” Bruce smiled at her soft expression. He pulled her into his chest, closing his eyes for a moment as if it would help drag on time.

Y/N, Natasha, and Wanda shared a big group hug, a few cries and screeches escaping from the back of their throats as they held each other again, for the first time since Tony’s death. The three of them together was no longer a foreign feeling or sight.

“I’m sorry. To make all of you come here - on, uh - such short notice,” Y/N couldn’t help but fiddle with the sleeves of her hoodie. The several stares wandering her way was not helping with the anxiety she was feeling - but she had planned this. She was going to finish this.  "I’m just glad - you’re - we’re all here.“

"We were always going to come back.” Strange told her, turning his head to look at Scott. There was a certain weariness in his eyes that made Y/N even more paranoid. “Nut we were hoping to have everything - dealt with - before that.”

“Thanos is - he’s the biggest threat - the biggest problem we’ve ever had to deal with.” She nodded, her eyes wandering over to the Guardians. “Now that our team is stronger - stronger than ever before - I have a proposition.”

Noise was shunned as a hurling silence wrapped around the room surrounded by the earth’s mightiest of heroes.

This was so much more difficult then she had expected. Her father did all the speaches. Steve and him were the leaders - not her. She had no clue how to fit in his shoes, she didn’t think she could.

“We have to kill Thanos. We all know we have to.” She grunted, pressing her fingernails into her palms. “He - killed my dad - and - he uh - Peter … - and - I - just - I, um-”

Stop the tears. Hold yourself together.

“We gotta’ stop hiding like a bunch of cowards.”

Y/N let loose a harsh and heavy breath - one that apparently she’d been trying to keep in. She watched carefully as Bucky moved his way towards her, stepping next to her and glaring around the room, confidence and anger in his eyes.

“We gotta’ stop hiding from our biggest enemy. We’re letting people die - innocent people, innocent lives are being lost. We’re the fucking Avengers and we’re all running from the one thing we should be fighting?”

“You know it’s more complicated then that,” Natasha tilted her head, trying to make the two of them see ’reason.’

“Everything with us has always been complicated.” Y/N spoke up, reaching her hand out to hold Bucky’s. “Being hero’s has never been an easy job. We’ve all had our problems. But it’s time for us to fight back - to stop hiding - and avenge all the people we’ve lost. I know they would want us to keep fighting.”

She hesitantly circled her eyes around the room, watching as different people nodded or shifted uncomfortably from concern.

“I’ve always known that we would have to kill him,” Gamora spoke quietly. “But it’s going to be hard. We are asking everyone to risk their lives against a monster,”

“It was always going to come to this moment. But, I just didn’t expect this to be the fallout.” Steve’s voice was low and unwavering. He stood beside Sam, who had his arms crossed over his chest like that was the only thing that could protect him anymore.

“I’m all for fighting him, but people are gonna’ die and I don’t think I can deal with anymore death.” Sam confessed, his eyes falling to the ground.

“We are all scared.” Mantis folded her hands in front of her. Drax took a deep breath and sighed. “But that does not mean we should back down.”

Y/N swallowed the words that she wanted to say - she swallowed the pain that had been begging to be set free. She wanted to scream about her father and about Peter. She wanted to yell at everyone for not picking up their guns and facing the enemy for what he had done to them.

She thought on it for a moment, but she knew, that she was the biggest person in the wrong. She shut everyone out - she curled into a ball and wished for her own death because she didn’t want anyone to face her in such a vulnerable state.

She had the ego of a Stark. She had the pride of one, too. She didn’t want anyone to see her so weak. She was done with her pride, she was done with hiding the pain of her reality.

I would keep myself

I would find a way

“I want to do this for my Dad.” Y/N’s voice was stuffed with pain, but her words were strong and stern. “I need to do this for him and Peter.”

She felt Bucky squeeze her hand. His long fingers pressed into the bruises on her knuckles, encouraging her to continue. He was the only one holding her up.

“Without my father, none of us would have come together. I wouldn’t have met you, Steve. I wouldn’t have gone to Berlin and met Bucky. I wouldn’t have helped Bruce out in the lab or trained with Natasha or went shopping with Wanda or pulled pranks with Sam.”

Bucky could feel everyone’s hearts beat faster. He watched as their eyes softened, filling with compassion, with understanding. With love.

“My father made the Avengers. He helped make us who we are. We can’t let him down like this. We need to fight. Maybe not just for him, but for the people. The people who look at us as hero’s and give us a reason to stay alive each day.”

“It’s our duty,” Rhodey spoke, turning his attention towards Steve. “It’s what Tony would have wanted us to do.”

“I’m in. Fucking course’ I’m in.” Quill spoke, leading the Guardians over to Y/N.

Natasha and Wanda, without a second glance, walked over and stood with the rest.

One by one, quiet mutters or small smiles, each hero walked over to Y/N’s side - patting her shoulder or holding her in a long embrace.

Then stood Steve. Steve Rogers. Staring back at everyone. Alone on the other side of the compound - his ocean, blue eyes cold and unreadable.

“Stevie?” Bucky was the first to speak. His eyes were fixated on his best friend, staring at the team with such a sternness and blank state. Was he really not gonna’ do this?

“Steve,” The E/C hue in her pupils drove into the sky of his sight, hoping to catch him in the act. “Don’t just stand there.”

“No.”

Y/N felt the air leave her lungs, like a bullet sprinting to it’s target. No? What did he mean - no?

“I gotta say somethin’. Avengers …”

Bucky furrowed his eyebrows, watching as Steve focused on everyone around the tower. But he caught it. That little upturn of his mouth. The little smile maybe even a smirk that threatened to throw everyone off.

Y/N didn’t need to convince Steve to join her side. Or Tony’s. He’d always been there from the start.

“Assemble.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky imagine #james bucky barnes #iron man #tony stark #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #sam wilson #wanda maximoff #avengers #infinity war #cacw #marvel #peter parker #peter parker x reader #tony stark x reader #sebastian stan #winter soldier

[leo--daniels-blog]

Self- Last Arizona Letter

 TW: Gore and mention of character death

Leo uncurled from the vines his powers wrapped around him. He had no control over them these days, tissues popping in and out of existence, bottles of water and food popping from the kitchen to his room to the rubbish bins next to the house, and all of this god-damned vegetation covering his room. Asters spotted in the sea of anemone, purple hyacinth, and zinnia flowers and the golden hops vines on the walls and ceiling with dodder vines almost fully encasing the boy. Small sobs sounded from the lump on the bed, tears soaked up by the parasitic vines as he curls back up for another half hour before unwinding and finally getting up. Leo hadn't been up for a week, and he definitely could smell it on himself. He dragged himself over to his bathroom, turning the knob for the shower as hot as he could handle before stripping and standing in front of the mirror. He couldn't recognize the ghost staring back at him anymore. Skin paler than ever, bones just under the skin, looking so sharp they threatened to slice right through and into plain view, his ribs could be physically grabbed with his skeletal fingers. Scars on his right arm from where his bone has broken through his skin and on his knuckles and cheeks thin, white scars from where the windshield had broken and cut him in the break were barely visible. Stepping into the tub, he didn't hiss at the scalding water that quickly turned his skin bright red but stood there for a moment, trying to feel anything but the tangled mess of numb and pain in his chest. He washed quickly and methodically, wanting to return to his bed as soon as possible before turning the water off and drying with a big, fluffy towel. As he passed by his desk, he took a moment to look at the painful collage of photographs on his wall, a tear slipping loose and being rubbed away harshly as he turned to dress. Those photographs hurt Leo more than he could bear but he couldn't take them down. He couldn't make them disappear and smudge out the memories they held; it would hurt more than looking. Looking down, he glared at the pile of envelopes collected on his desk, each addressed to the same person, the same name glaring back at him. Alex. With a deep and heavy sigh, he sat in the chair, pulling a paper and pen closer. He glanced up at the collage once more before wincing and beginning to scrawl on the page. “ I miss you and I'm sorry. It's hard to live here and breathe this air heavy with the absence of your cologne wafting throughout my room as mine did in yours. Losing you was worse than losing a limb or any part of me. Losing you was losing myself and anything we might have been. It hurts so bad my lungs collapsed and my heart came right up through my mouth when I screamed that night. I kept begging you to come back when I woke up with the sirens and the flashing lights giving me those last glances of your face, your eyes so empty I lost myself in them, leaving my soul in you, I hoped it might be enough for you to come back to me. I need you more than I need food, water, air, anything. They keep trying to get me to talk, to grieve with them but they don't know you took my voice with you into that box when we put you in the ground. The girls keep looking for you. I saw them curled up on your old balcony the other day; I guess they were waiting for you to sneak in how we used to. I would kill for those days with you back again, but I killed you instead. I miss those days with you more than any combination of letters could ever let you know. Not that your here to know or able to get any if I sent them out. You were there when I was learning to control this and now those vines you loved cover my walls and others wrap around me like a vice, tangled around my throat. Your asters are here and it makes my chest hurt that much more. I keep trying to send them away, but they just come back more vibrant than before. You were always there, always by my side where are you now? but you're somewhere better now, I hope. I need you to be somewhere better. I did this to you, and I can't take this anymore. If I had just hit the fucking deer or slowed down or something- ANYTHING, you might still be here with me. We'd be fucking around at school and drinking too much on weekends. We'd come back home to see out family and we'd still be brothers – no, we are still brothers, even if you're not here, I'm with you, in the ground too - and we'd end up in the woods like we always have. We'd be together, here, now and always would be. You promised we'd end up old and wrinkly, still laughing our asses off with whoever we each marry, all together in one of those depressing as fuck nursing homes. It would've been alright because we would've been together. Now I can't even look at this room without it hurting. I can't look outside or go around town without this raw pain blooming in my chest like your god-damned asters. I can't look at that box your mother brought me without crying and the panic blocking the air from my lungs until they explode in my chest. I can't keep doing this to myself and to you - your memory. That's why this is my last letter from home. I have to leave this place. This town is spotted with your absence and the painful memories we shared. I'm telling them all now that I can't stay anymore. I don't know where I'll end up, but I know I'm still going to end up bringing you with me. Wherever I end up, I'll write you another.I could never lose this only way to 'talk' to you. After all, you can't quite leave without half of your soul, right?” Leo folded the paper before stuffing it into the envelope, scribbling the name on the front, and adding it to the pile. He wiped the tears that had fallen down his face without permission and sniffled a little. This was it. He pushed back the chair, avoiding a last peek at the collage before heading downstairs for the first time in days to possibly break his parents' hearts.

#gore tw #mention of character death tw #Self #Wow this is kinda depressing

[jayankles]

Shared Birthday

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: It’s Sam and your daughter’s birthday and you have no idea what to get them.

Word Count: 1528

A/N – This is my submission for @impalaimagining​ ‘s #Sam Winchester Birthday Celebration and #Taylor’s 3k Followers Challenge. The prompt I chose was: ‘Wait, there’s no such thing as unicorns?’ Which will be highlighted below.

Daddy’s Nugget - Masterlist

It was getting closer and closer to Sam's and Lizzie's shared birthday and you just didn't know what to get them. You contemplated doing some research of your own and collect all the information you could for Sam's serial killer fetish and make a pack of cards but that may be going a little too far but in all honesty you didn't know what to get either of your nearest and dearest. Maybe you should just buy him a new blender for his health shakes. Or a healthy eating recipe book.

Knowing what cake she wanted, you ordered you ordered it - chocolate sponge ice cream cake - online to be collected on the day.

You spoke to Dean about it, what should you get for his brother for his birthday. As usual, he was as helpful as ever, answering with the words you should have expected.

Washing the dishes in the sink after dinner, you lost yourself staring at the wall in front of you. You jumped when you felt Dean's arm wrap around your waist, hands resting on your protruding seven months pregnant belly, almost like he was already protecting the lives inside of you. The twins inside making you feel like you were carrying a globe on the inside of your stomach. Right now they were causing a riot, jumping and kicking at the hands of their daddy.

'What are you thinking about?'

Putting the dishes down, you leaned back into his embrace, tilting your head away from Dean, allowing him to kiss at your neck a few times before resting his chin on your shoulder.

'I was thinking about what to get your brother and daughter for their birthday. I feel like a really shitty parent and sister-in-law for not knowing what they want.' You huffed, pouting your lips before it began to tremble.

'You're not a shitty parent or sister-in-law. And to be honest, I was just going to get Sam the barbie doll I always got him; he has a collection now. I was going to take Lizzie out for a day, don't know where yet but it'll happen something will come to you.'

'I hope so, although I wish it would happen sooner rather than later.'

That was twenty minutes ago.

Luckily, you had walked out of the kitchen and into the library where Sam and Lizzie were discussing the topic of presents. 

'Alright, Shorty-'

'Gigantor.' She giggled as she interrupted him.

'Ha ha. Very funny,' he sarcastically remarks. 'What do you want for your birthday, monkey?'

'I want a unicorn!' The almost six year old exclaimed as she giddily bounced in his lap, her hands shaking his shoulders excitedly.

You stepped in the room at that moment. 'They don't exist, baby.'

Both Sam and Lizzie turned to you, their mouths agape and gone slack like you had just punched a puppy. 'Wait, there's no such thing as unicorns?'

'You didn't know Sam?' You asked with a teasing tone in your abnormally high voice.

'I thought that it was a possibility that they existed, like have you seen the things we hunt? They shouldn't exist but they do.' His lips turned down, into a frown, more of a questionable expression; like he wasn't sure even with the things he's seen, he didn't know what was real or just a myth.

'Can't I just ask Uncle Cas to magically make me one? He is an angel.' Lizzie said, leaning against the table in the middle of the library.

You and Sam laughed at her logic but had to tell her that, 'Castiel's grace doesn't work like that and I think Chuck can only do that, but we don't know where he is.'

'Maybe I can manipulate Uncle Crowley to give me a hellhound.'

'How do you know that word?'

'Uncle Sam is teaching me stuff on the internet, it is so cool. The other day I learned that we can grow plants in a cotton ball but you have to keep watering it everyday.' You smiled at her enthusiasm, she seems to love spending time with Sam, learning new things when they were in the same room with him and he had a break.

'Awesome! What about you Sam? What do you want for your birthday?'

He looked to Lizzie with an affectionate smile, 'I don't want anything, I’ve got everything I need, right here.' Although his answer was sincere and you could feel the love and adoration radiating off of him, it didn't really help you when you wanted to get him a tangible object. 

'Uh huh, great thanks.' You sassed. 

Sam picked up his niece by the waist and hauled her over her shoulder, leaving you to your own thoughts in the room. Slumping in the chair, you huffed, tapping your nails into the hard wood of the table. 

Barely realising you had nodded off, a hand gently shook your shoulder, your eyes flew open in fear, your arms flailing, causing it to collide with a face; Dean's face. 

'Ouch, you got quite the reflexes darlin', coulda actually bruised me by the feel of it.' He chuckled, his fingers prodding at his recently hit cheek. 

Clambering out of your seat, you rushed to his side, inspecting the mark on his face, 'I'm so sorry Dean. I didn't mean to. I- I was-'

'Relax, (Y/N), it's okay. I'm fine, I've taken worse.' 

'I know but it still doesn't make me feel any better.'

You felt awful, although you knew what he did on a daily basis, it still hurt to know that you had hurt him no matter how minuscule it felt to him.

'So I found out that Lizzie wants a unicorn, but I might have an idea of what to get her. She's slyly been hinting that she likes it, I don't even think she knows she says it. But she gets so excited, she makes me so hap-'

You were cut short when a sharp pain hit your stomach, 'you need to tell your child whichever one they are to chill, and stop kicking me.' You breathed through the pain as either your son or your daughter kicked you.

Dean hands came to rest on your stomach and the kicking immediately ceased to exist, only feeling the weight of your children inside of you.

'You were saying?' He asks, waiting for you to tell him your idea about Lizzie's birthday present.

'What the fuck?'

'Shh, don't swear, our kids are in there.' He hushes you, kneeling in front of you and planting a kiss on your clothed swollen belly.

Rolling your eyes, you said, 'they can't hear me, numb nuts.'

'Actually, I read they can, so hush your mouth. Who's the numb nuts now?' He triumphantly smiles.

'Shut up.'

When the time came around, you were relieved, a load of stress had been lifted off your shoulders and now you could relax. 

Lizzie had been happy with the sparkly stuffed unicorn Dean had found online, but that wasn't the gift that you had in mind. 

You handed her a small envelope with her name neatly scrawled across it. When he opened it she was confused at first, but when you explained what it meant, you smiled at her loud squealing.

'I'm going to school?!'

'Yeah, happy birthday, baby.'

'Alright, Sammy's turn.' Dean declared, he walked towards him and handed him a rectangular box, which you knew was the doll and another much larger square box. 

Sam anticipated the barbie and gave Dean his patent bitch face, which he returned with a sly smirk. 'Jerk.'

'Bitch.'

'Mommy, daddy said a bad word.'

'That's right, he did. Naughty daddy. The babies can hear you.' You smiled sweetly, using his words from a few days ago. 

'Shut up.' He mimicked. 'Open the other one.'

'You got me a blender, and a recipe book. Thanks Dean.'

'You little-. You looked at my list.' You directed at Dean.

'Maybe.'

Sam rolled his eyes at your antics and waited patiently until you stopped. Your box to his was smaller than the rest, you just hoped he liked it. It was a small, long rectangle, wrapped in red metallic wrapping paper. When he opened it and smiled, closing the distance between you and pulled you into a tight hug, careful not to crush the two humans that were inside you.

Dean asked what is was and what it meant.

‘It’s a necklace. It has five interlinking circles. Red for Sam, pink for Lizzie, blue for Cas, green for you, and purple for me. That way, no matter what, we’ll always be together. I didn’t know what to get you and I’m sorry it’s kinda tacky-’

‘No,’ Sam interrupted. ‘It’s perfect (Y/N), really. I told you I had everything I needed here and you just solidified that bond that we al have. Thank you.’

You gathered, sitting in eachothers company, laughing at the old stories that you could recall and the new ones that you didn’t know. And then, in that moment, you knew that your little family would be okay. Through the ups and the down, you would all end up together. As a unit. As a family.

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#Sam Winchester Birthday Celebration #Taylor’s 3k Followers Challenge #dean x reader #daddy!dean #pregnancy #birthdays #shared birthday #daddy's nugget #another part #what did you think #spn oneshot #spn series #dean oneshot #dean series #prev. buckysmetallicstump #jayankles #jayankles writes #bailey writes

[youre-pretty-gay]

You Have a Pretty (Gay) Soul [Ch. 2]

It didn't take long for Philip's mom to come get them from the office. The first thing she did when she entered the room was grap Philip's face and ask if he was alright. What Ryan didn't expect, though, was hug from her as well and a quiet "Thank you," into his ear. Ryan didn't really know how but Francine (Philip's mother - she told him right before they all left) somehow got permission to bring Ryan home with them. (He had to feign pain, showing the nurse the bruises and bloody nose the jock had left him with. He also had to pretend to actually know Philip, who had meekly stated that Ryan was his best friend.) Now he was sitting with his hands in his lap in the backseat next to a basket of fresh laundry, staring at whatever passed by outside. It was a quiet and an easy, comfortable silence that drowned the sounds of the radio. "Your name's Ryan, right?" He flicked his eyes to Francine in the driver's seat, who looked at him through the mirror. He couldn't help but notice the similarity between Philip and her; the same dark skin, the chestnut wavy hair, hell, Philip even had her eyes (not that he spent too much time looking at them, he'd just noticed the midnight shade of blue they were). "Yes ma'am," he hummed out, occupying himself with the hem on his gloves. "You should probably give your parents a call when we get home, okay sweetie? I'll get you some ice for your eye." The rest of the drive was rode in silence, and he could've sworn he heard Philip's breathing deepen in the front seat. Was he sleeping? It felt like eternity he was in the car, just watching the overlooming trees covering backyards and sidewalks. Ryan saw a few younger kids playing in front of a house, playing with a bunch of jacks and a bouncy ball. When was the last time he's seen anyone play with those? When they entered the driveway, Philip had jolted awake in his sleep, groaning at the dull pain in his head from smacking it against the window. Ryan had to stiffle a laugh, covering his mouth with his hand. Everyone got out  at once, or tried, at least. Seems the back doors were baby proofed. Philip had to open the door for him, and when Ryan got out, his eyes drifted to his hair. It was still damp but it wasn't dripping onto the collar of his jacket anymore. Ryan helped Philip into the house, refusing to let go of his hand when the brunette tried to steal his hand away, letting out an embarrassing girlish squeal. It had practically taken him to drag the boy up to the house with the slight limp that Philip was giving. Everyone was inside now, and Ryan felt a bit out of place while he was there in the entrance hallway, numbly walking behind Philip. His mother was ahead of them talking, but he didn't really pay attention. He silently wondered when Philip had started leading him through the corridor instead of Ryan, but he didn't mind. His hand was being pulled along, too, and he smiled slightly. Phiip was escorted to the bathroom by his mother, while Ryan sat on the couch with a small bag of ice wrapped in a dish towel pressed to his jaw. He took the momentary silence to call his mom, quietly glancing around the living room he was in. It took a bit of persuading and a lot of "Are you okay?'s" before he hung up the phone and leaned his sore head back to listen to faint noises of running water and loud off-key humming. The sound made Ryan smile and the forgotten pain in his hand returned. It was more numbing this time, and his the back of his hand felt wet. In all honesty, Ryan knew Philip was his soul mate from when he first seen the boy being held with his face in the toilet. He knew that something was off even before he stepped into the bathroom - the feeling was there: not in his hand, but in him. Ryan truly didn't want to believe that Philip was his because it was really uncommon to get a soul mate of the same sex. It wasn't as rare as he thought, though. Emily and Ashley were paired together and they seemed happy to be in each other's company. He was also scared. What would Philip's mom think? Or worse. What would Ryan's parents think? Ryan's mother and father weren't even paired together. It's not like it was illegal to marry outside of your soul mate, or mates, in some cases. It was just very taboo. The fact that they were both guys made him antsy, too. He racked his hand through his blond locks and hummed out a loud sigh. Did Philip even know they were soul mates? Ryan pressed the palm of his hand right above his breast, feeling their heartbeats together. He couldn't tell who's was who's, but someone was shockingly calm. Ryan wished he could say that was his - and maybe it was? Maybe the nerves he was feeling was actually Philip's, but he added a different reasoning behind them. The poor kid was almost drowned in the most unsanitary way possible. Before he realized, Philip was sitting in the recliner next to the couch, watching Ryan lean over and fantasize about everything that could and would probably go wrong, When Ryan did notice him, though, he took a long look over the boy. Philip sat with his legs underneath him, drawled into the chair. His hair was styled into a sloppy bun at the nape of his neck which looked oddly tame against the brigade of curls his bangs were. He was constantly pushing them out of his eyes. Oh, god, he really did have his mother's eyes. They shared the same tempting deep blue hue to them. Philip had a simple white tank top on and a thick pair of sweatpants on. He looked away when he realized that he was technically staring - and there it was: that drawled out silence that should've been deafening, but it was oddly comforting, and Ryan had to focus on silencing the pounding in his chest. "Mom's got your jacket in the washer," he said, breaking said silence. Ryan leaned his head up to look at him properly and replied, "yeah, thanks." "C-can we talk?" Philip had to pause to move himself into a more comfortable position, and with a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't being watched, he continued. "I'd really like to get to know you better, if you wanna, too. You don't have to, I mean! I know it's.. Can we go to my room? It's privater, and I don't know if you," he stopped short, probably because Ryan was already starting to get up. Philip got up too and rubbed his wrist, turning away to lead the blond to his room. God-fucking-damnit. Ryan took for granted how short he actually was because Philip was actually almost towering over him. There was at least a four inch height difference (not that it mattered). Ryan felt like clinging to the back of Philip's tanktop like a lost puppy because, damn, was his house big. They had already gone down two completely seperate hallways before they even reached the stairs to the second floor. When the soul mates (finally) slid into the room and closed the door shut, this was not something Ryan was expecting. There were small magazine posters of aliens and weird japanese creatures littering every inch of his walls and Ryan couldn't help but notice the larger map above his bed that had multiple blue, yellow, and red thumb tacks stuck in the paper. A line of rocks were displayed across the top of the headboard of the bed. "So, I guess that means we're like," Philip sat down on the bed and hugged a knee to his chest. "soul mates, or something?" "I guess." There was a small weight lifted off Ryan's chest - he knew, and he was okay with it, or, at least, he's not freaking out. The way Philip moved was with an awkward kind of grace, and Ryan couldn't help but admire his curvy, feminine figure when he pulled on Ryan's  wrist to tug him onto the bed next to him. "We might be soul mates, but that doesn't mean that we have to act on it if one of us is uncomfortable." Ryan found his hand resting on the right side of Philip's chest. It was weird, feeling the two heartbeats in one body. That was his heartbeat. "I don't think we should. It'll just end up hurting one of us," Ryan said, trailing his hand and eyes up to the shirt collar and tugging it down lighting to see the small inking of a star. It was smaller than a dime, but it was the same color as his eyes; that deep blue that anyone could get lost in if they looked into them for too long. "My teacher told me awhile ago that if two partners try to force themselves away from each other, their hearts will stop. Literally. So, yeah, no. That's not an option," he hummed out. Ryan pressed his fingertips to the star, felt the younger boy shiver beneath him and trailed his hand up farther his neck until he was plucking the bobby pins from Philip's brown hair. It softly rolled out, just a bit shy from his shoulders. He was truly an attractive kid. When he pulled his hand away, Ryan heard a sigh escape. He wasn't sure who made the noise, though. Probably both of them. Almost as soft as Ryan was touching the boy in front of him, Philip's hands were grasping his cheeks, looking straight into his eyes. His thumbs rubbing into Ryan's temples gently and he couldn't help the purr that came from his throat. The hands trailed back into the short blond locks and dragged fingers through his scalp. It was an odd feeling, but he didn't mind it. He couldn't mind it, because soon Philip's hand was grabbing at Ryan's hand and he pressed a kiss to the back of his palm, sending a wave of emotion over Ryan. As soon as it was there, it was gone, and Ryan knew it was because of their shared fear of getting caught being so intimate with each other.

---

It didn't take too long for Francine to set up a futon in Philip's room. He'd been invited to stay that night for dinner, and since it was a Friday she also agreed to letting him stay over (which Philip asked). It was close to seven when they were both laying in Philip's bed, Ryan's hand gently brushing through Philip's curls. He could honestly do this for hours, he felt.  Philip's hand was busy drawing with a purple ink pen, detailing Ryan's arm in a jungle of flowers. He'd joked and asked if it was nontoxic, which Philip just replied to with an uncaring shrug and a gentle nuzzle to his head. As much as he hated that Philip was younger and taller than him, the way his arms held Ryan's waist was kind of endearing. His touch was gentle and ready to pull away at any sign of struggle or distress. The two high schoolers laid like this for awhile: Ryan's head pressed against Philip's chest and listening to the quiet badump of their heartbeats. His hands were at the brunette's waist by then, pressing gently into his skin with the pad of his thumb. Philip's hand was in Ryan's hair, raking through the short sun kissed blond locks while he hummed a quiet tune that was off-key in the best of ways.

#YHPGS #YHPGS2 #YP(G) #YPG #Soul mate au #chapter 2 #Philip Evans #Ryan Hutch #A bit of homophobia #original male characters #original story

[fangylacey]

@DavidCallum - The Last Beer In Louisiana

Dave & Lacey

    Back-to-back they moved through the wrecked store. Hoping no dead were there. Hoping even more to find something to eat, drink, something useful, inside of it. Grabbit-Kwik. Some shitty local store, probably. Everyone stopped in when they ran outta milk. Or cigarettes. There were rolling papers and a bottle of Tequila Rose on the shelf. Stale chips that she shared with Davey once they had ascertained there was no threats to them there. They could hole up in the back. For a night. Keeping on the move was the best way to stay safe, until they could find somewhere permanent.

    Lacey offered him the bottle of TR. And the last of the cheese poofs.

    “That could be the last wet thing on this planet and I wouldn't drink it,” he rumbled, making her laugh. He split the last poof with her, crunched it in half and popped hers into her mouth. Hunger now nothing more than a dull pain, they returned to hunting through the store. Most of the front was broken up. Shelves knocked over. Trash everywhere. Vines creeping in from the ceiling already. Had it been so long, really? He thought. But then, thinking on it, it had been two years, and in Louisiana, the Earth took over pretty fast usually.

    He helped her lift the shelves. Found more chips. Some granola bars. Gum. An unbroken beer. The coolers were emptied all but for some sketchy looking bottles with something brown floating inside. The office was a wreck, but there was a love seat and the lock worked. The pair went to the back of the store. They'd explored earlier. Nothing alive or undead there, but they hadn't checked for supplies. Boxes were stacked. It was shadowy and cluttered. Someone else had been back there before them. A can of soup! Some stale crackers. They'd eat good. And more soup. Ravioli. Stock up and hope they found more later, or could trap some game and a dead one not get to their kill first.

    “Freezer?” Lacey asked, hand on the metal knob, handle, whatever it was. He shook his head, but in typical Lacey fashion, she opened the door anyway. Dave had known her since their group, formerly eight strong, now the two of them, had formed outside one of the Louisiana refugee centers. Both were living in Shreveport before it all went to shit.

    She laughed when the door popped open, he'd looked like he was holding his breath. “See? Nothin' in the—“ her words were cut off when a zombie came falling out of the darkened doorway, along with the smell of him and rotted food from the freezer. Dave had a knife out, already, just in case, but he wasn't quick enough. And she wasn't moving fast enough, or aggressively enough. Her arm lifted, a gesture of protection, but all it did was make him home in on something soft and meaty. His ragged hands scratched at her, trying to pull her in for a bite, making her bleed, knocking her down. Davey put him down, a knife right in the temple. Easy place to put it once you'd practiced as long as he had. The damage was done though. Blood ran down her arm where the dead thing had dug his bones into her arm.

    It would be kind to put her down now, but she looked so scared. And he looked so broken as he helped Lacey to her feet, cradling her arm against her chest as he led her from the back of the store to the office where they'd found the love seat before, helping her into it. She got comfortable. Cried.

    “You should put me in back. With that thing. And go ahead and do it. Who knows when it'll get bad enough I turn...” she mused to him, wrapping toilet paper around the scratches to stop the bleeding. Slow it. Nothing would stop the infection she had racing through her though, and she wondered if the dizziness she felt was from that or the adrenaline. “It would be easier on you,” Lacey muttered, looking down.

    He wasn't listening. Instead, he was pulling open drawers until he got to a first aid kit. Davey was not ready to give up. No. There was peroxide. A rubber tube. He could help. He could stop it. Maybe cut her arm off if he had to. There had to be an ax somewhere near.  His mind raced through all the ways he could stop it. The band was around her arm and tight enough her fingers went numb fast, turning purple at the tips. He tore the paper from her arm and poured the peroxide on the scratches and watched the bubbles.  Waited. Poured. Waited. Poured. Bubbles were fewer now. “I can cut it off. I just need an ax. Something sharp. And fire to cauterize. I know. I know,” he said, seeing her stricken face. “I can't lose you. What'll I do...?”

    It broke her fucking heart.

    “You'll be fine,” she said, pulling him in and kissing his cheek. “Fine. No more sharin' food. Me stealin' the covers. You'll be okay... Promise.” Her hand went to her chest, laying on her heart. “Cross my heart. You just... gotta do what you gotta do, all right?” she asked. “But get that Tequila Rose first. I bet one swallow gets me lit. It's been years...”

    Yes, he looked broken. Probably as broken as she did. But he went. Brought her the bottle. And the beer. She waved that off. “Tastes like piss cold. Bet it tastes like piss straight from the pecker hot,” she teased. Dying had not taken that from her. She even got him to crack a smile. He was handsome when he smiled, even under all the dirt.

    Lacey sat with him. Talking. His fingers in her hair. She watched the red spread over the hours. Up her arm. Past the band he'd used to try and stop it. He had gotten up. Twice. Wanted to go find something to help her. Help them. But Lacey took the tubing off her arm and begged. “Stay. Stay with me. Then end it. I don't want to be...” He knew. Neither of them wanted that.

    “Who will do it for me when I need it?” he questioned her, but the fever was settling in by the time the sun set. He locked the door and she finished the Tequila Rose and rambled about her parents. Her life. Stripping. Davey hadn't known that part. She was rambling, and didn't hear him. And then she stopped talking. Then he just listened to her breathing. Listened to her breathing stop.

     One. Two. Three. Four. Five. He got to twenty five before she made another sound. A growling noise and her hands twitched. The knife was out of his sheath. And into her skull. She went still for the second time in under a minute and he could not stop crying after, great choking sobs. He'd bury her in the daylight. Try to find people again. Not get attached this time.

    The emotional storm over, sort of, Davey cracked open the beer, eyes on the woman who had been his companion, his best friend, for two years, as her body cooled and her blood seeped into the cushion of the love seat. He took a long swig and grimaced. “She was right. Like fresh piss....” he muttered, throwing it into the corner and laying down on the floor next to the girl that his mind told him he had failed to save.

#Happy Birthday Cath 2k17 #Can't even let them be happy in an au! #lol

[adauntlessangel]

💥 pls with bryce

“I love you...call me when you land okay? If you see Alejandra tell her I said hi, okay? That I miss her.” Emilia gave him one last hug and another kiss goodbye. She wasn’t sure what she hated more about air-travel...when she was on the plane or when Bryce was on the plane without her? At the end of the day it would always be the latter because even though she hated flying, Bryce always had a way of making her feel better. Perhaps it was the random facts he would spew off about how safe flying was compared to driving in the car or taking a taxi. He was right of course but it still didn’t make her feel any less at ease. But the reason Emilia wasn’t traveling back to Spain with Bryce this time was the simple fact she wanted to stay home. Especially since it was only for one night and a day then Bryce would be right home, so what was the point in her going for such a short trip? The CEO just needed to fly over attend a meeting or two sort out paperwork and then come back home. After all they had spent nearly five years in Spain...and being home for a few months left Emilia beyond blissed. Especially because Mr. Matthew’s was keeping a particular promise they’d made the night of their engagement. To make the night without Bryce easier, Emilia had planned on going over to Bryce’s parents house for dinner and to catch up with the family. It’d been so long since Mrs. Matthew’s and Emilia had a moment to catch up and be girly (it was quite funny how the two had become so close...she truly was a welcomed member to the family -- the daughter they always wanted.). Plus Emilia was going to inform the woman that she was planning on going to the local spa for a mani-pedi and wanted her to join her. She’d gotten spoiled with such treatments while staying in the tropical weather of Spain. That along with the tan she’d gained -- she truly had gone all out. Plus with the gorgeous wedding ring she needed a good manicure to compliment it. Licking her lips, Emilia did the one thing she never got a chance to since Bryce usually drove -- she blasted the car with some good old 1D. Silly as it may be, but Emilia found a comfort in the boys voices. A certain type of calmness no other artist could drag out of her. When she finally got home, Emilia packed a bottle of wine for Bryce’s parents and a few little gifts she’d gotten the family while in Spain that she’d been meaning to give out. As she arrived a the family home however, Bryce’s father had the news on and for the first few minutes Emilia gathered it had been a place crash. “I bet it was another technical issue...I’m getting to the point I don’t even want to travel anymore.” Mr. Mathew’s had said and the family all agreed. Seeing the wreckage it pained her. The news broadcast that there was in fact no survivors and Emilia felt her heart clench. They also said that families of the deceased would all be receiving a phone call soon to come down and identify the bodies as they were pulled the the wreckage. It was devastating above all else but something caught Emilia’s attention. Flight 786, departed from Washington International to..Spain... “No..” Emilia whispered and the bottle of wine she’d been carrying slipped from her fingers alerting everyone to her. Emilia walked further into the living room and picked up the remote, turning the volume up until it was at full blast -- and everyone in the house was silent. It couldn’t be Bryce’s flight...it couldn’t. Impossible. Shaking her head Emilia started looking for her phone in her purse -- she ordered his ticket last night..she had the receipt. “Emilia darling are you --..” Mrs. Mathew’s had tried to ask but Emilia’s behavior silenced her. “Where the hell is it?” She hissed and soon she turned her purse upside down and began shaking it vigorously. The loud thump of her phone falling to the floor had Emilia leaning down to pick it up. Quickly she sifted through her e-mail to find the receipt and when she did...she fell to the floor in front of the TV. Scrolling over the screen she stopped as soon as she saw the blunt truth. It was his flight. Bryce’s flight. Bryce’s plane had..it had... The news woman began to go on about engine failure and how families once again would receive a call letting them know.. But Emilia already knew. She felt it in her core. Will was immediately by her side as he and Jackson had arrived by now and everyone was still silent. “Em? Hey, Em?” Will’s hands had been wiping her cheeks -- was she crying? She hadn’t even realized considering she was so numb. “Em..what’s wrong?” .. They hadn’t told Bryce’s family he was going back to Spain..they’d simply stated the fact he was going out of town for a day and a night...and he’s be back...but now he would never be back. “Bryce..” she managed to whisper barely loud enough for Will to her. Her shaking hands gave way to her phone and when Will took hold of it to see the terrible truth for himself, Emilia will never forget what he said. “Jesus fucking christ...Emilia!” The brunette’s cellphone began ringing... scaring everyone in the home and Emilia snatched her phone up. Quickly she answered it with a rough “Hello..” and listened. “Hello, is this Emilia Matthew’s?” Emilia sobbed then and she whispered. “Yes.” The voice on the other line continued. “Mrs. Matthew’s, my name is Doctor Weber at Seattle West hospital. I’m calling because we need you to come to the hospital as soon as you can please.” Emilia was far to blunt in this moment with this question. “Is he dead?” She spoke into the receiver and Mrs. Matthew’s gasped and Emilia heard a thump -- she could only assume Bryce’s mother fainted. “Mrs. Matthew’s...I am so very sorry for your loss. But we need you to come into the hospital and identify your husband’s body..and fill out a few forms. The sooner you get here the better..please.” Emilia hung up the phone without a response. It was like she was on auto-pilot. Silent tears continued trickling down her face and Emilia turned to look at Will. “I-I have to go..” Emilia tried to stand up with little to no avail and with both Will and Jackson’s help she was able to get to her feet. Though from that moment until they arrived at the hospital...she couldn’t remember anything. 

Wearing Will’s raincoat, Emilia walked into the hospital immediately being led down to the morgue. It smelled too clean...and the stench of death plagued her. Will tried to keep Emilia in an embrace but she refused it. Somewhere in her mind she was wondering if this was some sick game of Bryce’s. Where he was pretending to get a reaction out of her for a joke...and everyone was in on it. Licking her lips they approached a steel door and that was when she was forced to go in alone seeing as how Bryce only had Emilia listed on the emergency forms...they’d both done it when they went to Spain. After all, it was only the two of them over there...why would they put anyone else? Exhaling she followed a doctor to a room where there was a table...and she could see it through a window. She was staring intently at the sheet clearly covering a body and was told when she was ready they would show her. Fiddling with her wedding ring, Emilia nodded. Though what she saw next would truly haunt her for the rest of her life. Bryce’s lifeless body was laying limp on that slab. His body pale and lifeless...a lack of color in his usually rosy lips. They looked more of a purple blue now... “Mrs. Matthew’s, is this Bryce Matthew’s? Born June 1st, 1990 age 27?” Emilia nodded at the sight of her husband laying there...and she felt a knife twist in her chest. Out of everything she ever saw between her and Bryce -- an early death between either of them had never been on the table for her. Perhaps an affair or a sudden bankruptcy.. but never death. Hell, Bryce and Emilia never even spoke about dying..they always saw a future. Something bright, something to fight for...something to achieve. Not this. No...this was never part of their plan. “I...I need a moment.” Emilia pushed past the doctor as he began asking her what she wanted them to do with his body...whether she wanted him cremated or if they would have a funeral..she didn’t know.. Bryce...Bryce would know what to do. But...she couldn’t call Bryce because he was dead...he was dead.  “Oh dear god..” Emilia sobbed loudly as she began walking down the hospital hallway. Will was at the other end and she saw redness in his eyes...Bryce was dead...how...god no. “Oh god...oh god...oh god..” Emilia stumbled and fell to her knees as her sobs filled that long corridor. “He...he...he...” Will’s arms met her then and she tried to push him away. “No...no!” She wanted Bryce’s arms around her to comfort her. To tell her everything was alright...to list a fact about mathematical equations that the odds of this happening were slim to none...but so were they. He didn’t do relationships..let alone marriage but with her they had... They’d just started trying to have a family. They were going to have a family..babies...live happily ever after...after all of the fighting and the crying -- he died. “This wasn’t supposed to happen..” She cried into Will’s chest. “This wasn’t the plan...it was just one night...one night..oh my god...he’s dead, Will. Bryce is dead..” She sobbed uncontrollably. “He’s gone...he’s...he’s...Bryce is dead!” She screamed as the shock seemed to go away and it was crashing all around her. They had just come home...they were trying for a baby...they were going to be a family and now? Now he was dead...”He’s dead...he’s dead.” Emilia screamed and thrashed in Will’s arms -- trying to hide her from Bryce’s approaching family but she couldn’t stop her cries of agony as it felt like her heart was being clawed from her chest. She was clawing at Will’s arms for him to let her go and he wouldn’t. Blood was evident against his skin but he never let her go no matter how hard she struggled. “Bryce...” She cried out -- hoping he would come running in push Will away and assure her he was okay. But he never came...because he was dead. “BRYCE!!!!” She screamed at the top of her lungs as utter anguish crushed her to the point she couldn’t breathe. This wasn’t supposed to happen...They were just starting to try to a family...This wasn’t how it was meant to be...It wasn’t meant to be.

based off of this. 

#hurtpeoplearelethal #tw death #Bryce & Emilia #/k im dead bye