The My Immortal Harry Potter fanfiction was to be turned into a Broadway comedy play. BBC did an interview with JK Rowling on how she felt about it and her statement was, "Fuck. Doesn't matter what I think. They were going to make it anyway."
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Y/N and Harry Tell the Truth// h.s
“Y/N, Harry, we have brought you here today to take a lie detector test.” you both nod your heads “One of you will be hooked up to the machine while the other asks questions, and then you’ll switch. Who wants to be in the hot seat first?” you look at each other,
“Him.” you say in unison and then laugh “Rock paper scissors?” you ask
“Only if you say it correctly.” you roll your eyes at him
“Paper scissors rock.” you say at the same time, you throw scissors and he throws rock.
“Damn it. Okay I guess I am first.” Harry gets up from the table and goes to sit across from you. The polygraph reader comes and starts hooking you up. “Whew, did it just get hot in here?” you go to fan yourself nervous.
“Please refrain from moving too much.” the guy whose name you learn is John says
“Oh sorry.” you grimace and try to sit still.
“ ‘kay John are you ready?” Harry asks, John just nods his head. “We need to establish a baseline so, is your name Y/N Y/L/N?” you nod your head but then remember it is supposed to be a verbal answer.
“Right, sorry, yes that is my name.”
“Is your boyfriend in this room?”
“Yes he is.”
“Were you born in England?”
“Were you raised in North Carolina?”
“Yes.” Harry turns to John at this point.
“Was that true?” He asks the man who solemnly nods his head yes. “Alright let's start. These questions are only going to be slightly invasive.” he teases you. “So as we already discussed you were raised in North Carolina, is that something you are proud of?”
“Absolutely.” you say
“Then why,” Harry asks smugly, “Are you applying for dual citizenship to the UK?” you stare at him annoyed
“Hmmm, I don’t know, maybe because my longtime boyfriend is a citizen?” John stares at you
“The machine doesn’t do well with sarcasm.” he says monotone.
“Sorry,” you make a face “Let me try again, because my boyfriend is a citizen and also to feel closer to my mum’s side of the family.” Harry looks at John who once again just nods his head.
“Over the quarantine your cooking videos became quite popular, would you say that you are a better cook than me?”
“Oh yeah, one hundred percent.” he huffs
“Am I a bad cook?”
“No I don’t think so, I just think I am better.” you smile at him.
“She’s telling the truth.” John announces
“Next question. On Reddit there is an entire page praising you, do you check it?” you furrow your eyebrows
“No, I don’t think that I even knew about that.” John gives Harry a look
“Is she lying?” he asks the man
“It’s uncertain.” Harry then gives you a look, you shrug your shoulders
“I swear, maybe my heart picked up because I was a little shocked, I mean a whole page praising me that’s a lot.”
“That was the truth.” John says
“Suspicious.” Harry says
“The kids are saying sus these days babe.” you inform him. He strokes a non-existent beard
“Sus.” you giggle, but then a look from John causes you to recenter yourself “Anyway next question. Do likes and followers matter to you?”
“Sometimes, I would like to say no but then I post something that is important to me and I hope that it is well received.” Harry nods his head
“What is your favorite song of mine?”
“Lights Up.” you say with confidence
“Lie.” John says
“What?! That is my favorite, well… actually, just you or can it be One Direction.”
“Then Lights Up.”
“What is your all time favorite that I have ever sang then?”
“If I Could Fly.”
“That is a good one.” Harry admits he then looks at the question and bites his lip. “You have been rumored to have dated these four men,” He places pictures of Tom Holland, Brad Simpson, Timothee Chalamet, and himself in front of you and you can feel your cheeks get hot.
“Yes.” you say
“Do you notice anything about them. Any similarities?” Harry asks the smugness back in his voice.
“Yes.” Harry is now full on laughing at you “Everybody has a type, it is nothing to be ashamed of.” you huff
“That leads into this next question very nicely.” He places a few more pictures out “Would you date any of these striking men?” You stare at the faces of Shawn Mendes, Kit Harrington and Nick Jonas.
“Well they all three are in committed relationships, as am I so my answer is going to be no. The only guy that I am interested in is this hunk.” You pull up Harry’s picture and see him flush a bit.
“That’s the truth.” John declares
“You have admitted that you don’t necessarily like being famous. Is that correct?
“Then why do you stay in the spotlight?”
“Because I love what I do and I know that you love what you do and I love you so, that trumps any anxiety or hatred I have of my life being more public than I would like.”
“We do stay pretty private for ‘famous’ people though. Especially you.” Harry says
“We do, or we try to.”
“Last question. Did you lie at any point and we didn’t catch you?”
“No.” John nods his head at that.
“Okay time to switch.” you are told and John comes to unhook you.
Once Harry is hooked up you start asking baseline questions,
“Is your full name Harry Edward Styles?”
“Are you a singer-songwriter?”
“Have you ever been polygraph tested before?”
“I have not.” you look at john who gives you a thumbs up
“Wonderful, let’s get into it. Do you ever miss the One Direction days?”
“No, I miss the boys sometimes but I don’t miss the way things were.”
“Well there are going to be some very upset directioners out there. Would you ever consider a reunion?”
“I would, but I think that we have all grown up and changed since One Direction so I think it would be different.”
“Would Zayn be a part of that reunion?”
“I don’t know, that would have to be a group discussion and I also don’t know that he would want to.”
“True again.” John tells you.
“Fair enough, moving on. Would you ever feature me on one of your albums?”
“In a heartbeat.” Harry answers “Just not as a singer.” he laughs
“Would you say I am a bad singer?”
“Yes, but you say it yourself all the time so I think that it's fair.” you nod your head at his answer.
“Okay this is an important one so be honest. Do you think I am a better blonde than brunette?”
“So what you're saying is you like me with dark hair better?”
“Yes.” you look over at John.
“That is questionable.” you turn and stare at Harry
“Are you lying to me now?”
“That’s such a hard question, love. I love you no matter what color your hair is, but yes I would say that I maybe like it blonde better I suppose.”
“So are you telling me that you don’t love me right now as much as you would if I was blonde.”
“I just said the exact opposite of that.” Harry protests
“He’s telling the truth.” John informs you
“Yeah whatever. Next, when we first started dating you told me that you had seen all of my movies since 2015. Was that true?”
“I believe so, yes.”
“So you didn’t go home that night and binge watch me?”
“What is your favorite movie of mine?” you ask next
“Movie? 5 Feet Apart. But my favorite role that you have played is Alina in Shadow and Bone.”
“That’s one of my favorites too.” you smile at him “When your manager told you that i was going to be in your music video, were you nervous?”
“A bit yeah.”
“Because I had a crush on you.”
“John?” you ask
“Course it is.” Harry protests
“Okay you did a controversial shot for Vogue, is that correct?”
“Yes but I didn’t do it to be controversial.” John nods his head telling you that its the truth
“Do you regret what you wore?” You knew he didn’t.
“Not one bit.”
“Very nice.” you say as you get the thumbs up from John telling you what you already knew. “Next question Mr. Styles, and I would like you to remember that I didn’t write the questions I am just asking them. Have you thought about marrying me?” Harry stares into your eyes for a full minute before answering
“Course I have.”
“Have you looked at any rings yet?”
“Did you buy a ring?”
“Yes.” you both just sit there for another minute, you absorbing what he said and him composing himself after admitting that.
“Well then, I only have one question left for you, did you lie at any point during this interview and we didn’t catch you?”
“I love you bub.” you lean across the table and kiss him.
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fanfiction is one of the most anticapitalistic things in the world and we should talk about it more
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Fanbinding: Return. Continue.
After six months in Mogami’s mind world that weren’t even real anyway, Mob returns to his old life. Everything is fine… after all, Mob and Teruki are the sort of friends that never fight.
Okay… I knoooooow it says this fic is unfinished, but it never will be in my heart because holy heck this is well written. @uncannycookie you have written an AMAZING fanfic and great googly moogly that bathroom scene… 10/10 I re-read it all the time just to fucking bawl my eyes out!
Of course, I couldn’t help but add @auro-cyanide art to this masterpiece because of all the wonderful fan art she drew that *wheez* make me cry because damn… y’all need to stop being talented (jk please don’t it gives me LIFE)
This also marks the 10th book I’ve bound! HURRAY! What a fitting way to try and do a rounded spine! I think it’s pretty good for my first try 🥰
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That anxious feeling when you see “Past [ship]” in an AO3 description and there’s no indication in the other tags of whether it’s gonna be:
A shitty ex, where the author clearly hates a character/ship
An amicable divorce, where they’re still friends and coparenting
A ‘wait shit I’m gay’ breakup
A ‘we gave it a shot and it just didn’t work out, haven’t seen them in years but it wasn’t hellish or anything, just kinda happened’
An unwilling separation, where the plot permanently separates them and neither actually died, but they might as well have
A semi-willing separation, where they could stay together but only with severe consequences, and so they broke up for the greater good
One of the characters died, but the author likes the (usually canon) ship enough to put a lot of effort into showing the consequences of grief
One of the characters died, but the author clearly hates the (usually canon) ship and it’s very obvious in the narrative
They fucked once in a nightclub bathroom and never forgot it but also wouldn’t ever date, and for some reason it’s relevant to the plot
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AN: Fair warning, this story takes place in 2020, but for the sake of the storyline I have made to where Covid never happened. Now I am aware that this topic is a huge one, which is why I want to remind all of you to be safe out there!
Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader
Genre: Fluff and some angst
Word Count: 4.2k
Screams of joy quickly filled the room as soon as the pastor said the infamous words, You may now kiss the bride. There they were, two kids from the outskirts of manhattan, saying their I do’s and finalising their committed love to each other.
The beginning of the day was messy and rushed, fear laced in the air as no one knew how the day would play out. Leave it up to Daniel to be late to his own wedding, forty-five minutes to be exact, so instead of him waiting down at the end of the aisle for Zoey to walk down, she was the one waiting on him.
You had met Zoey your freshman year of college when you two first became roommates. During that time you thought she was too chirpy and loud, but soon come to realise that she would become a huge factor in your life, six years later.
Daniel came into the picture three years ago, they had met in the most cliche way possible, at a rollerskating rink. She didn’t want to spend her twenty-first birthday in the typical bar scene, Zoey wasn’t like that, she quite literally despised alcohol.
The moment they said I do, tears slowly formed at the bridges of your eyes. Part of it was because of how happy you are for her, how ecstatic for her to start this new chapter in her life. But the other part, the more selfish one, wanted her all to yourself. You wanted it to be you, her, and Cadence for the rest of your lives. However, Zoey did inform you that no matter what it was you and her against the world, you just added a few more souls to it.
Later that night when everyone was sitting around the room eating their food, you found it the perfect time to say your speech. The same speech you rewrote ten different times because it just wasn’t good enough. So, like in the movies, you stood up with a spoon in one hand and your glass of sparkling cyder in the other, and slowly clanked the two together gathering everyone’s undivided attention.
“Hello everyone.” As all eyes turned your way, you had to clear your throat a little with how intimidating this is. They never tell you how nerve-racking it is to give a speech in the movies. “As some of you may know, my name is Y/N Y/L/N, the bridesmaid and unfortunately one of Zoey’s only friends.” Laughs erupted through the room, considering everyone knew how anti-social Zoey actually is.
“I just wanted to start off by saying first and foremost, a huge thank you to everyone who came and made this day as magical and mesmerising for our lovely couple over here. Ever since the day Zoey and Danny met, it’s been a nonstop rollercoaster of emotions, but in the best way possible. I still remember the time Zoey told me she thought she was in love with him, it was just two days after our lives changed drastically. She came up to me and was like, “I never knew I could hold this much love for someone, but here I am. I think I love Danny and that scares the shit out of me.”
“She was full of nerves for a whole week after that. But one day she came home smiling like an idiot claiming that he loved her too, the rest is history. Zoe, as much as I tease you about your quote unquote, school girl crush, I couldn’t possibly explain how happy I am for you and Daniel. I just hope he treats you the way you treat literally everyone in your life. And these past two and a half years have been a huge adjustment for me, and I just want to thank the both of you for never letting me go through it alone. I love you guys. To Zoey and Daniel!”
Cheers broke out and champagne glasses echoed, Zoey stood up and pulled you into a huge bear hug, explaining over and over how much you mean to her. By this point in the night, it would’ve been the second time you cried, had you not felt the small tug at the bottom of your dress.
There on the chair beside you sat the most beautiful girl in the room, Cadence Y/L/N. She was buckled onto a small booster seat that was sat on the chair, a slight frown taking over her face as there was no more food on her plate.
You had Cadence two and a half years ago, when you were twenty-two, hence the sentence in your speech. Her father abandoned you the second he found out about the pregnancy, typical college boys. They aren’t ready to become fathers so instead they leave, but you were never going to give up the chance to raise your baby. Maybe it wasn’t supposed to happen this way, but if you could go back and do it all over again, you would in a heartbeat.
“Mommy, I want up.” She had pouted out, with only being nearly three, she really knew how to speak. As if you could ever say no to her and her little pouts, you unbuckled her booster and lifted her on your hip. Zoey smiled as she gave Cadence a soft kiss to the head before announcing that she was going to talk to some family members. “What’s up, babe? How was your dinner?”
Cadence smiled, holding up her thumbs in the cutest way possible. That is until she whispered in your ear, “Mommy I have to go potty.” Cadence was never shy, but she did hate having her business out in public, and even though she isn’t fully potty trained yet, you love the fact that she’s telling you when she needs to go. Because you know that there will come a day that she won’t need to depend on you anymore, she will have her own life. That’s a thought you never wanted to wrap your head around.
Having made your way to the bathroom, you helped Cadence hold her dress up as she did her business. She really was the cutest flower girl you have ever seen, plus Zoey’s mom did an outstanding job with putting flowers in her long and blonde braided hair. A true princess, she was.
“Okay mommy, I’m done. Can we wash the yuckies away now?” Her doe-like eyes looked up at you, and sometimes you forget that she is only two, and the fact that she’s yours. All yours. No one else’s. “Yes baby, let’s pull up your big girl undies real quick, okay?” And having expected it to come, your daughter replied with, “I’m a big girl now mommy!”
She still couldn’t properly pronounce her R’s yet, but the daycare she’s in is working on it. Turning the water to a lukewarm temperature, you lifted Cadence up to the sink where she would get her soap and wash the yuckies away.
When she was done washing her hands, you set her down and both made your way back out to the party hand in hand. Everyone was dancing now, Zoey was with a few of her aunts and Daniel was probably out on the balcony having a smoke. “Hey Liz, can you watch Cady for a few minutes? I need a breather.”
Elizabeth Walters, the mother of now, Zoey Green. Liz loved both you and Cadence, basically adopting you the second you set foot into her luxurious house. You knew Zoey came from a long line of money, but seeing it so up close and personal felt like a dream.
“Of course, love. You know I could never say no to the cute little face.” Liz squished the cheeks of your daughter before grabbing her hand and leading them both away from you. Undoubtedly going towards the desert table where Cadence has been eyeing all night.
As soon as Cady was in the safe hands of Liz, you made your way out to the balcony where low and behold, Daniel was sitting and admiring the view. “Hey you, shouldn’t you be with your wife?” You spoke up, Daniel was surely intimidated by you at first, having been his girlfriend's best friend, he wanted your approval. Though after a few months you both warmed up to each other and are now as close as ever. “Yeah, just needed a bit of a break is all.”
Daniel led his right hand over to you, where he was silently asking if you wanted a hit from his cigarette, which you gratefully obliged. “Everything okay?” You looked at him, eyeing the side of his face while the smoke you just inhaled settled it’s way down your throat.
“I just can’t believe I’m married, Lace I’m married!” Lace was a nickname he came up with the day he found you dancing around your apartment in nothing but your lace bra and underwear. To be fair, he was looking for Zoey and you happened to be cleaning the house while singing to Avril Lavinge’s, Skater Boi.
“It’s crazy, isn’t it? I mean one minute you’re planning your whole future then you blink once and it turns out you are now living it.” Daniel laughed, giving him back his cigarette, you placed your arms on the balcony edge. “I love her so fucking much that my heart physically hurts, I just don’t want to mess it all up. I mean what if, in five years she doesn’t want me anymore? I will be torn.”
“Danny, you know you can’t get into your head about this kind of stuff. Zoey loves you, I’ve known it since the day we met. The way she would talk about you, her eyes would light up and a huge smile would appear on her face. She adores you, man. And I know I don’t say it much, but I am so grateful for all you do. You brought my Zoey back, the carefree and adventurous Zoey I knew before her dad died. I love you, Zoey loves you, and Cadence definitely loves you. Seriously dude, what did you do to her to get her to love you more than me?”
It was nights like these where you would feel closest to Daniel, nights where you fully take in how much he has done for you and your best friend. Daniel put out the cigarette in his hand and turned your way, “I’m just cooler than you, remember? I got a shirt that says cool uncle for a reason.” And like nothing happened before, the both of you were back to joking and laughing. “Alright, now if you don’t mind me, I have got a wife to get back to.”
You sent him a smile before following him back inside to go find your girl.
When you finally found her, she was dancing with Liz and her boyfriend Arttie, some evidence of chocolate on the corner of her mouth. “Hey, sorry about that. I can take her now.” You picked Cadence up and sat her on your hip, kissing all over her face before she let out a mommy stop!
Liz was adoringly looking at the interaction, clearly not understanding why you thought you were failing as a mother. “Nonsense love, she was an angel as always. You love hanging out with grandma Liz, don’t ya little one?” Her attention now turned to the two year old who gave her a huge smile and a nod that matches said smile. “I just feel bad for putting her off on you for something as stupid this. I usually don’t do it, but I needed to speak to Daniel anyway.”
Your mom was never really in your life when it came to moving out and onto college. You grew up in a small and messed up town in Pennsylvania, your mother was an alcoholic and your father was, well he’s a story for another day. “Y/n, I can assure you that everything is fine, I love having you guys around and if that means watching your daughter while you go have a smoke, then so be it.”
Instead of saying anything, you leaned in and gave Liz a hug that Cadence found her way into, still on your hip. The position was awkward but the gesture itself was one full of love. “Mommy, it’s our song! Dance with me please?”
And as if your heart couldn’t get anymore full when We Fell in Love in October came on, it swarmed with warmth at Cadence’s words. “Of course, baby. You are my girl aren't you?” The giggle Cadence let out was one of the utmost amazing sounds you have ever heard, you could listen to it on repeat for the rest of your life. “Yes mommy, your girl.”
With that, you led yourself and Cadence to the dance floor and started dancing around, not having a care in the world if you looked ridiculous. Right now, at this moment, it was you and your daughter. That is all you needed. Smiles took over your faces, and only widened when you saw a camera on your dancing figures.
“Smile for the camera, baby!” And she did, you both looked at the camera, waves, and smiled all while still dancing to the beat of the moment.
When the music slowed to an end, you and Cadence continued dancing for a few more songs before she announced that she was tired. So again, you picked her up and let her slowly fall asleep on your chest. Even though Cadence wouldn’t remember this day when she grows up, you will always remember every second of it.
“You look like you could use a drink, but that little munch there kind of prevents that doesn’t it?” It had been an hour and you were sitting at your table with a sleeping baby attached to you. When the voice was heard behind you, you kind of struggled to turn your head but the man made it easier when he moved to stand in front of you.
“I would if I drank. It’s not really my thing, ya know?” He was attractive, short brown hair and emerald green eyes, but was he really your type? Probably not, you went for guys with longer hair, but you couldn’t deny the natural beauty of him. “‘S understandable love, this seat taken? Do you mind if I sit?”
His accent was more than endearing, entrancing even, though he sounded fairly familiar. “No of course not, it’s all yours. I’m Y/n, I would shake your hand but I’m a little occupied.” You introduced yourself, laughing out as you pointed at the sleeping baby in your arms. He laughed along with you, and had you had a drink in your mouth, it would be all over the front of you at the sound. It was perfect.
“’M Harry. She’s a peaceful sleeper, that one. Are you just watching her?” This was the moment that you would say she is actually your daughter and he would run for the hills. So you gave a fake smile and a sigh, “Something like that, she’s mine.”
As you expected, his eyes widened in shock. You look so young? But he wasn’t about to judge you. “Seriously? That’s awesome, I hope you don’t take this as offensive, but I thought she was just your little sister.” However, that was not expected, him to stay, but you had time. “You flatter me, Harry. I had her young, a little younger than I would’ve hoped, but now that I have, I’m over the moon. She’s the most perfect baby. Sorry I’m rambling.” You stopped yourself before things got too weird.
Instead you opted to play with Cadence’s hair that was now out of the brain and drained of the flowers. You loved playing with her hair, in fact you loved all physical contact with her, cuddling at night was a definite must. “Never apologize for talking about the things you love. Or I guess in this case, the people you love. I find it charming that you talk about her, it goes to show how much you love her.”
When you looked back up at Harry you found his eyes already on yours, a soft smile playing at his face. And even though you hadn’t meant to do it, a slight heat rose to your cheeks. No one, more precisely no guy, has ever said that to you. “I do. I love her so much.”
“You know, I heard your speech earlier, it was really sweet. I’m guessing you and Zoey are close then?” Cadence starts rolling around on your chest before getting comfortable again this time her head layed on your left shoulder, facing the side of your neck, her soft breaths fanning over you. “Closer than ever, really. She was there for me when I wasn’t even there for myself. Could never repay her. What about you, who are you here for?”
“Daniel, we’ve been mates since we were sixteen almost. Met on a show I was filming.” A show? That’s a change for people you usually talk to. “So you’re an actor then?”
A smirk played at his lips, his fingers playing with his bottom lip. “Something like that, I’m a singer, but I have filmed a movie or two.” He spoke, replying back what you said to him. To say it shocked you was the understatement of the year. You hadn’t even been to an actual concert in your life, let alone met someone famous. Wait, was he famous?
“That’s crazy, anything I would know?” Genuinely curious, you eye his movements. He now had his left arm on the table while the right was hanging off of the table while he played with his rings. You hadn’t even seen the rings that were splayed on almost every finger, you had to say, it was incredibly hot. A bonus, his nails were painted a dark shade of blue.
He must’ve noticed your staring because a laugh soon erupted from his throat and had another smirk. “I don’t know, have you heard of White Eskimo?” His question was simple, though you still looked as confused as a kite flying in the air. You didn’t want to offend him, but you also knew you couldn’t lie to him. “No, I can’t say I have. It’s a band?”
“Not anymore, thank god. I am so embarrassed looking back on old videos, my voice was so small and my young, naive self had no clue what the world had in store for me. One Direction, have you heard of them?” Harry’s smirk was replaced by actual curiosity, the name sounded familiar but you’d never listened to any of their music. “You see, the look on your face says that you do. But that’s also not a band anymore, we all went solo. I wouldn’t know if you knew any of my music. And not to be cocky but I should throw it out there that I have appeared on the radio more times than I can count.”
The night was just getting weirder by the second, why was someone who has been on the radio talking to you? Out of all the girls in this room, he chose the one with a baby. You love Cadence more than you love yourself, you would take her over any other love for the rest of your life, it’s just weird when talking to people. “I’ve heard of the band, a few times I think. But I have never listened to your music.”
Harry lifted his hand to rest over his heart, “You’ve wounded me.” You didn’t know why, but you ended up letting out a laugh that was probably louder than it should have been. “Okay, so maybe you are a bit cocky. But that doesn’t explain how you and Daniel met on this show.”
“To be fair, Y/n, you never asked how we met, all you asked was who I was here for. But since you just have to know, his brother was on the show as well. It’s called The X-Factor, it’s a singing competition show. Anyways, his brother went before me and I guess he could sense my nerves because he came up to me and told me that I would do great. His brother didn’t end up making it, I actually think he still kind of resents me.”
His brother, Austin Green, wasn’t here tonight. His wife was in the hospital having their baby, you had only met him twice. And each time you had met him, he wasn’t the kindest person, especially since you had a baby so young and the father wasn’t around. “He resents me too, it’s not just you. Having a baby out of wedlock is not the ideal situation in his book. Hell, it’s not the ideal situation in anyone's book.”
A look of pity flashed across his face. You’ve gotten used to that look, it doesn’t get easier each time it gets given to you, and it’ll only weigh more and more on your daughter as she gets older. Oh look, Cadence’s mom is a whore who got pregnant after having sex with a douchebag, clearly they weren’t good enough for him since he had no will to stick around.
“Now that’s not true. It was not a look of pity, it was one of sorrow. The fact that someone would criticise you because you had a baby out of wedlock, but now I can see the story goes deeper than that. And I certainly don’t think you are a whore for having sex with some ‘douchebag’ whom you may have loved.” Harry stated, leaning his head downward a little do get a better look into your eyes. How in the hell did you just say all of that out loud? The look in his eyes did in fact show sorrow, but not for the reasons you had thought.
Maybe he’s just making all of this stuff up? He’s probably just saying all of this because he feels sorry for you, or maybe he wants something more with you. Something that doesn’t involve a baby, or clothes for that matter.
“I should go. I have to get my daughter home, she’s gonna wake up with cramps because of how her neck is laying. It was lovely to meet you Harry, really.” You stood up, grabbing the small backpack you had sitting on the back of the chair. It had a spare change of clothes for Cadence in case she had an accident, your phone and your wallet, and a few dolls for Cady to play with if she got bored.
“Wait, Y/n, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, opposite of that actually.” His hand grabbed the wrist that wasn’t holding Cadence up. His face was sincere, though it did not make things better. “Harry, it’s okay, you don’t have to pretend to want to get to know me. Guys like you never do, I don’t hold you against it.”
“Guys like me? Y/n, you can’t put words in my mouth like that. You don’t know me, and if you did, I’m sure you wouldn’t be saying that. I don’t care if you’re a single mum at a young age. I don’t care if you are barely surviving with bills piling up. I don’t care if your apartment is a mess because you have a child and it is hard to keep a clean platform. I don’t care, okay? I walked up to you because you were alone and I figured you would like the company.”
He interrupted you before you could properly finish, his words were barely registering and his hand was still clasped around your wrist. However, you pulled away and placed your arm under your daughter protectively, also to ease the slight pain of holding her in one arm. “So you admit it. You only talked to me because you felt bad for me. Look I’m not some lonely girl who needs saving, I have a child to think about and she will always come first.”
Maybe you were overreacting, he hadn’t even said anything about Cadence. “What? I did not come over to you because I felt bad. Why can’t you just believe me when I say that I genuinely wanted to talk to you.”
Harry was getting frustrated, it was pretty clear. His voice was raising the slightest bit, the rasp in his voice slowly disappearing. “Because guys don’t talk to me for no good reason. They always want something, so make this easier for both of us and spit it out already.”
By now, the bickering had caused Cady to stir in your arms. Your eyes still on Harry as you slowly started to lull her back to sleep, bouncing a little side to side. “I just wanted to get to know you better. Believe it or not, not all guys are looking for something.” And with that Harry turned around and walked away. Leaving you to sigh and make your way over to Zoey and Daniel to bid your goodbyes.
His words replaying in your head, Believe it or not, not all guys are looking for something. What did that even mean?
Hello everyone, welcome to my new mini series, My Girl, I have no clue how long it'll actually be but I have some ideas. I really hope you like it, if people are even reading this. If not lets pretend this never happened. I’m am still getting used to uploading on here so I am going to try and figure out how to make a masterlist to stay organised, and how to do requests for whenever you guys have ideas. I may not be the best writer out there, but it’s just a thing I enjoy doing. If you are here, thank you for reading and I hope you come back.
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Ace culture is seeing if there's any x reader fics for a Fandom and then getting really upset seeing that all of them are smut
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the eye of the storm
Summary: nothing is going the right way.
pairings: Dark!Hunter!Bucky x bunny hybrid! reader x steve rogers
warnings:18 + content, noncon smut, cuckholding, forced breeding, pain kink, soreness, kidnapping, angst, threesomes, lactation kink, innocence kink
Both men watched as you innocently played with the little deer, the bunnies overjoyed to have a new friend. You had done your best to squeeze some milk out for the deer, and the little creature seemed totally happy about his stay.
Wandering hands on your hips caught you off guard, the musky scent of Bucky wafting over you made you slightly relax as he positioned his chin on your shoulder. But Steve plopped himself on the grass in front of you, and the babies went immediately to him. You frowned at how even the fawn followed him.
Dusk came, and Bucky invented some excuse for Steve to stay, saying it was “dangerous” for the super soldier to roam the woods this late. Supper went by quickly, soup and vegetable for you and beef for the men. The wine colored their cheeks and filled their mouths with hollers and over-the-top comments.
You at least expected Bucky to offer the couch, or even let you sleep in it, yet as you draped over your form one of his t-shirts, Steve crawled into bed right behind you. Hands pulled you closer, and you swallowed a cry when you saw Bucky laying the babies together, the fawn with the bunnies curling up.
The lights were off as your husband jumped into bed, and the horror began. The only thing you could tell was that Steve was latched to your back, sniffing your berry scented hair, and Bucky pulled you into a deep kiss. Tears fell down your cheeks, laying limp, allowing these men to hurt you and touch you as they pleased.
A finger delved through your folds, finding your nub to rub deliberately. You gasped when two fingers where introduced at once, shifting uncomfortably.
“Good girl,” Steve whispered, and you barely heard him talk while he was fucking you. “Gonna take my cock so well, right baby?”.
A pinch on your nipples caused you to yelp, throwing your head back onto Steve’s shoulder. The familiar cold and hot sensation todo you it was Bucky toying with your tits, but that also meant that the thick digits you were clenching around were Steve’s.
His hand left, and you suppressed a whine at the lost of contact. Wrapping your arms around Bucky when you felt a engorged head poke against your entrance, you sobbed. You could never grow fond of his length, it felt as if it would never end. He held your hips as he bottomed out, letting out a long breath that smelled like whiskey and cigarettes, a scent that was more familiar with Bucky.
His thrusts were deep and short, holding your hips against himself as you clutched to Bucky, your weird solace. His grunts began echoing in the room, more viciously and animal-like each time and your whimpers were shushed by Bucky, placing tender kissed on your lips.
Sweat took no time to coat your skin and the blond’s, beard scraping against your cheek as Bucky mysteriously reached over to the other man. Your eyes widened when you heard the sloppy sounds that weren’t just coming from your pussy. Steve became more erratic as he kissed Bucky, sloppy and messy. They grinned as they separated, the brunet instantly holding your face to kiss you and then place a thumb into your mouth.
Although it quickly came off when Steve pulled you underneath him, bending your knees just the slightest for leverage as he fucked into you.
“There you go, little bunny.” he cooed, wrapping his hand around your ears to tug “this ass is way too pretty to not look at, bouncing on my cock like you should.” He slipped a hand under your body to squeeze your sensitive boobs.
Bucky cradled your cheek with shimmery eyes, a loving glance that seemed way too out of context.
“You’re going to let Steve get you all nice and plump for me? gonna give me more babies? my good little bunny.” he praised, and you bit your lip in discomfort as Steve delivered a hard spank on your sore backside.
“Answer him, little slut.” he grunted, hips pistoling against you in an almost furious way.
“Yes!” you cried out, voice drawling out into a moan as you clenched around Steve.
“Of course you are; you know how pretty you make them.” Bucky chuckled, pulling you somehow closer.
Of course you hadn’t though your plan properly, thinking the two super soldiers wouldn’t hear you tiptoeing to the bathroom. As dainty as you were, the little noise was detected by the two men.
You reached the bathroom with a sigh, believing your plan had worked. The silver reflection that stared back at you on the dimly lit bathroom was saddening; your neck was marked with different hues of purple and blue, puffy eyes and red lips, sensitive tits and an ache on your ears for the intense pulling. You could barely flop them upwards.
You sat on the cool porcelain bathtub, slowly pulling out the silvery plug from your throbbing pussy. You finally closed your legs, almost moaning with delight at the empty feeling. A mixture of slick, cum and blood was quick to seep out of you, staining the white tub. You turned the faucet on, quickly washing your shame away. It was way to perfect to be-
The door slammed open, and there they were. Oh god- you cursed yourself for you foolishness of thinking you could get away with this. Dumb little bunny, getting caught by the wolves again.
Your blubbering justifications meant nothing as a hand tugged both your hair and ears out of the bathroom, dragging you through the wood floors to toss you into the bed. Bucky was furious, Steve looked annoyed and disappointed. You didn’t know what was worst.
“You little bitch!” Bucky screamed, and you were for sure your babies were up now. He gripped your neck, pulling you to face him, face contorted in such anger you really feared for your life. “Are you such a whore you didn’t wanted to get pregnant so that he could continue fucking you? or you just want us to be miserable?”
His questions dumbfounded you, because the answer to both of them was no. He dropped you carelessly and began to strut to the dog bed, your eyes widened and you almost sprained your ankle trying to rush towards him. Steve caught you, pressing him to his stony chest. Bucky picked up James, the little male bunny who stared to its mommy in confusion.
“You are telling me you don’t love them?”Bucky questioned, genuinely sounding hurt. “You are telling me you don’t want to have more of this beautiful things?”
“Why the fuck do you want more so desperately?” you yelled, tossing in Steve’s grip. “You went as far as to let another man rape me because you are so desperate to have more children, why?”.
He strutted towards you, thick body hovering over yours. He could kill you, Steve could kill you, they could kill your babies. The little bunny he was holding in his hands was a reminder of it.
Your gaze didn’t falter this time, you stared right at him.
“Because you are mine.” He stated, clenching his teeth. “You are mine to fuck and do whatever the fuck I want; so if I please to make you round with children to keep me happy and accompanied, I will.”
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hanging ||Tom Holland
Summary: Tom can't sleep, he wakes you up by accident and you spend sometime at the park.
After landing in the city to start up filming, tom has had the worst time sleeping. He's been up all night for three nights in a row, and messing around in the middle of the night and waking me up. He tries hard not to but when you're stuck in a little hotel room what else are you supposed to do.
Something clatters in the room, and my eyes peel open to reveal Tom on the floor at the end of the bed. He has a look of instant regret on his face, slowly lifting himself to apologize but i shake my head.
"I'm sorry love, i just couldn't sleep."
"That's alright. but i'm up now so why not we do something?"
I sit up looking around the room. Outside i can see a park across the street, two lights hanging over the old play structure. I sigh, pointing out the window at it.
"Shush," I clamber out of bed pulling on sweats and one of Tom's sweaters. He doesn't take long to get dressed, pulling me out the door with a secretive smile on his face. I chuckle as we rush across the street.
"We're really going to play at the park right now?" I roll my eyes as i plant myself in one of the swings.
"Tom, you're awake at 3am, we're in a random city - what the hell else are we going to do?" He shrugs, making his way to the monkey bars. I lifts himself, almost effortlessly sitting carefully on the top simply watching me.
After a few moments, i make my way across the park, spotting some form of equipment i had never seen before. On my way i go to pass under the monkey bars but Tom drops under the bar hanging carefully in front of me. I stop, shocked as his nose bounces off my own.
"What are you doing?"
"Just hanging around," he laughs at himself and i roll my eyes.
"Good job Spiderman," i go to walk past him but he stops me, pouting his bottom lip out.
"You're not gonna kiss me?"
"And why would i do that?"
"Oh shut up and kiss me," he mashes his lips into mine, a smile still there. His lips are warm against his cold face and the slight breeze in the air. Everything seems perfect.
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Hi, may I request a angst to fluff Crow x Young wolf. Where Crow has a nightmare about the guardian dying in his arms and he wakes up and young wolf is right there beside him. I hope you're have having a good day/night
hello anon <3 thank you, i'm having an alright kind of night, hope yours is good too! :) my laptop is finally back from the repairs, so I can write prompt fills :D here is one for you and I hope you like it!
Crow watches as if frozen in time as a bullet flies in the direction of the Guardian's Ghost. It is only a matter of time, of seconds, precious seconds - and the shell shatters into splinters. The Light explodes in all its glory, staggering Crow, and the Guardian, their body limp without Light, their chest filled with hoarse sounds, collapses.
Crow rushes towards them, cradles them in his arms.
"No, no, no, you don't do that, please, don't do that," he cries through scorching tears. But there is blood seeping between his fingers, sticky and hot, and the Guardian's body grows heavier in his arms.
They are no more.
Crow awakes with a startle, a gasp, a cry. His cheeks are wet and his body feels hot with tremble. It takes a moment to take in the surroundings - the familiar room and the warm bed, a gentle blanket over his body, and the Guardian, sleeping restfully beside him.
Crow gasps another cry and swallows it away. He moves needily towards his lover, he wraps his arms around them, touching with such fervor. He feels their spine and their shoulders and arms, their rising breast and the ever lively heart. Crow smiles and cries happy tears that seem to be unable to stop. He has never wanted to be alive and in love more than that moment.
The Guardian stirrs, finding Crow so very close. They look around like an anxious bird, head looking towards a threat or any source of distress, but Crow shakes his head and soothes them.
"I had a nightmare," he whispers, hot lips press salted kisses to the Guardian's cheeks and lips and jaw. "That you died in my arms. That you died..."
The Guardian moves to pull him closer, to hide him in the safety of their being alive.
"Don't you die on me," Crow whispers, kissing the Guardian on their lips that so responsively capture his. "Ever."
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Whatever You Want, Draco Malfoy -9-
Tags: alcohol use, marijuana use, cigarettes, smoking, reckless behaviour, lack of self preservation, anxiety issues, chronic illness, deportation, racism, the fucking Tories, ptsd, super unhealthy coping mechanisms, Down and out Draco who’s friends with muggles, various OC’s, enemies to lovers, angst, mentions of throwing up/vomit
suggested rating: Mature
Part 1 (contains links to all parts) <- Part 8 ||
Draco threw up in the middle of the atrium. Unfortunately, it had barely touched the floor before a mediwitch vanished it with a cleaning spell. He felt rather disappointed he hadn’t managed to ruin someone’s shoes. He was in a mood to spread his misery around.
The atrium was crowded, with the welcome witch, busy healers, mediwitches, and quite a collection of sick people. Draco had expected to be the centre of a storm of malicious glares and muttered curses, but it seemed everyone was far too distracted by Potter being in their midst. Some of them stared at him with open-mouthed awe. They whispered about him and pointed like he was a particularly rare and interesting animal in the zoo.
Potter was pretending very hard not to notice. His expression was carefully blank and focused on the welcome witch at the front desk, but Draco was close enough to see the muscle in his jaw twitching as he clenched and unclenched his jaw.
Potter leaned across the desk to speak with the welcome witch in quiet, hushed tones. Draco wondered if this would end up in the paper and what they would say; what would people think about Harry Potter being seen with him. Out of the corner of his eye, Draco noticed some young woman watching Potter’s back with stars in her eyes, shifting nervously from foot to foot. She took a few hesitant steps towards them, screwing up her courage until she finally noticed Draco at his side and stopped dead in her tracks.
“This way, Malfoy,” Potter said, tugging on Draco’s arm until he started moving again.
They walked down one of the back hallways. Every now and then, Potter paused to look at signs on the walls. Draco spent every pause closing his eyes and wishing for death.
The number of people in the hallway dropped the further they walked. The lighting charms got weaker and occasionally flickered overhead the further they went.
A final and ominous set of double doors was marked by the plaque at the top that read ‘MIND HEALING WING’ in all caps.
“I feel like I’m going to be smothered in my sleep if I stay here,” Draco muttered.
“You are not,” Potter said, heading towards a wide scuffed desk.
Draco shrugged, trailing behind him, “There are worse ways to die.”
There was no one at the front desk. Potter leaned over to look behind the desk, then glared down the hallway, “Hello? Anyone here?”
A door clicked open further down the way, and a woman looked out and then hurried down the hall to the desk. She was very short, maybe five feet tall, and looked Filipina, with dark brown eyes, her straight black hair cut into a cute bob. She was wearing the pale yellow robes of the mind healers wing, and her name tag read Iris.
“Hi! Sorry! One of our receptionists is out sick, so we’re a little short-staffed,” Iris said cheerfully.
“That’s alright,” Potter said, “The welcome witch told me to come back here. But this can’t be the right place. Malfoy needs a potion or something, not a mind healer.”
Iris grabbed the chair and spun it around, resting her knee on the cushion as she picked up a folder stuffed thick with paper, “I hope I’m not overstepping, but are you here for our detox program?”
“I’d also take a killing curse to the forehead,” Draco said, slumping on the top of the desk.
“Understandable,” Iris said, her eyes crinkling at the corners like she was hiding a conspiratorial smile, “Well, you’re in the right place then.”
Iris flipped open the folder and took out a packet of papers. She frowned slightly to herself before setting them on the desk. “In order to take part in St Mungo’s monitored, medi-magic detox, you have to make a commitment to a minimum of three months of therapy, twice a week groups therapy and at least three one-on-one meetings with one of our mind-healers.”
“I’ll take death,” Draco said.
Potter was unimpressed and ignored Draco, “Don’t mind him. Malfoy has a thing for dramatics.”
“I do not,” Draco muttered.
“If it were up to me, I’d rather give people all the help they need and just encourage them to make use of our therapy programs. I’m always afraid putting such stipulations in front of treatment might result in someone suffering through something they don’t have to.” Iris picked up a pen and tapped it on the desk absently, “But it’s the council’s decision, and they give us our funding, and that’s stretched thin as it is.”
Iris slid the papers in front of Draco, “I know you don’t feel well, but please take your time and read through this carefully. I’m happy to help as well as your advocate if you have any issues.”
“Advocate?” Potter said.
“You are here as Mr Malfoy’s health advocate?” Iris asked.
Potter’s brow furrowed.
“Because if you’re not family or acting as his health advocate, I’m going to need you to step back,” Iris said.
“What?” Potter said.
“We take our patient’s privacy very seriously,” Iris said.
Potter looked from Iris to Draco and then shrugged, walking away from the desk and sitting in one of the stiffly upholstered orange chairs along the wall.
“Do you have any questions?” Iris asked.
Draco tapped the paper, “It says it can take anywhere from three days to weeks?”
“Well, we treat all kinds of addiction, from muggle to magic, and they all require different care. Each person is unique as well,” Iris said. She leaned back on the chair, half kneeling, half standing.
“I can’t be here that long. Three… five days at the most,” Draco said.
“Well, what are you withdrawing from?” Iris asked.
“Alcohol,” Draco said.
Iris nodded, “That shouldn’t be a problem so long as no complications pop up. I’ll make a note in your file.”
“I have a file?” Draco asked.
“You do now,” Iris said with a smile, “Now, let’s get you checked in.”
Draco spent the next couple of days in a haze. Potions put him to sleep and kept him fed; they settled his stomach and numbed his pain. All-in-all it felt like a fever dream that he couldn’t quite wake up from.
The potions wore off a few days later, and Draco blinked himself out of a haze, his eyes slowly focusing on the white plastered ceilings, the lighting charms doing an uncanny job of mimicking the painfully bright halogen lights found in many muggle buildings. He pushed himself up with a groan and rubbed his hands over his face, feeling a faint scrub of stubble under his fingers.
“Oh, you’re awake,” A voice said, sounding profoundly disappointed.
Draco looked over at the bed next to his. Sitting on top of the bed, legs crossed, elbows propped on her knees, was the most exhausted human being Draco had ever seen in his life. The woman’s long black locks fell in front of her shoulders and face, only partly obscuring her bloodshot eyes and blending in with her dark brown skin.
“You’re watching me?” Draco asked, his voice rough from sleep.
“Living vicariously through you,” She said, blinking painfully slowly. “Going off sleeping potions.”
“Oh,” Draco said. He glanced around. They were in a long narrow room, beds against one wall. Most of the beds were obscured from their neighbours and the rest of the room by screens. Jasmine had apparently moved the screen between their beds.
“Can’t fall asleep normally anymore. Feel like I’m losing all my marbles,” the tired woman said.
“Well, you’re in the right place for it,” Draco said.
The tired woman managed to crack a faint smile, “Yeah. I guess.”
At the end of the long ward, the door opened with a soft click, and Iris slipped inside, walking straight to Draco.
“Good morning!” Iris said cheerfully, “Or afternoon. Whichever you prefer.”
Draco pulled his feet back as Iris sat on the end of the bed.
“How are you doing today, Jasmine?” Iris asked the tired woman.
“Like this is hell, and I am being punished for all eternity,” Jasmine said.
“Have you been meditating and working on your mindfulness exercises?” Iris asked.
“My eyes feel like they’re full of ground glass,” Jasmine said flatly.
“That we can do something about,” Iris said, “Go to the mediwitch and get some eye-soothing solution. It will help. And maybe some camomile tea?”
“Fine,” Jasmine slowly slid off the edge of her bed, bare feet slapping loudly on the tiled floor as she went down to the end of the ward.
“How are you feeling, Mr Malfoy?” Iris asked.
“Well enough,” Draco said, “Will I be able to leave?”
“Let’s see...” Iris said, drawing her wand. She cast a series of spells Draco didn’t recognise, each one bathing him a different aura.
“I knew you were a healer,” Draco said, smirking faintly.
“Oh?” Iris said.
“I suspected it when we met, but I thought it was funny, Potter treating you like a receptionist,” Draco said.
“That was a bit funny, wasn’t it?” Iris’ eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled.
Draco raised an eyebrow, “It didn’t bother you?”
“I have better things to worry about,” Iris said, “Besides, I’m sure Mr Potter has forgotten about me by now; there’s no point in taking it personally when he didn’t mean it personally.”
Draco blinked, “That’s… I wish I could think that way.”
Iris flicked her wand and dispelled the spells around Draco. “So, what are you in such a hurry to get to?”
“When you first came here, you said you could only stay three to five days,” Iris said.
“How long has it been?” Draco asked, suddenly worried.
“Four days. No need to worry,” Iris said.
“Oh… good,” Draco said, relaxing.
Iris looked at him expectantly.
“...It’s- I usually get groceries for Mary-”
“Mary?” Iris asked.
“She lives in my apartment complex,” Draco said.
“And you get her groceries?” Iris said.
“She has trouble getting around. If she fell, she might get hurt,” Draco said.
“Hmm,” Iris said, tilting her head, “She asked you to do this for you? Is there no one else who could do it for you?”
“I- No, I volunteered. Mary wouldn’t ask; she’s stubborn like that,” Draco said, stumbling over his words, feeling off-balance. “Why are you asking?”
“As your designated mind-healer, I want to get to know you,” Iris said.
“I am,” Iris said, her smile growing. “Have you ever talked to a mind healer or therapist before?”
Draco shook his head.
“I promise I don’t bite,” Iris said.
Draco smiled briefly.
“You seem very different now from when we first met,” Iris said.
“Oh, that’s Potter’s fault. He brings out the worst in me,” Draco said with a frown.
“Hm, so you don’t think it’s a difference from being sober?” Iris said.
“No,” Draco shook his head.
“But Mr Potter, he ‘brings out the worst in you’?” Iris said.
“Obviously,” Draco said.
“You went to school together, didn’t you?” Iris said.
“Yes,” Draco said warily.
“So, this ‘worst of you’, is it more of a reflection of who you were at school with Mr Potter?” Iris asked.
Draco made a face and shrugged flippantly, “I was young and stupid.”
“We all start out young and stupid. That’s part of growing up,” Iris said.
Draco snorted, “And do we all start out blood suprematists that end up on the wrong side of the war?”
“You weren’t the only child in the war, Draco,” Iris said, “We are the product of our upbringing, and quite often, it can take us a long time to become our own person.”
Draco narrowed his eyes.
Iris smiled and looked up at the ceiling, tapping her finger against her chin theatrically, “What would you say to the boy who was you if he was right in front of you right now?”
“Stop being a little prick,” Draco said flatly.
Iris smiled briefly, “That’s a good start. But I’d like you to remember that boy as he was, for all his faults, and remember his hopes and dreams, the things he yearned for-”
“-remember the games he played and the things that upset him-”
“What’s the point of this?” Draco asked.
“Remember that little boy and imagine if you could talk to him right now, would you tell him to stop being a prick?”
Draco’s frown grew.
“Would you tell him he was the worst in you?” Iris asked.
Draco squeezed his eyes shut, forcing back the sting of tears and looked away. “What’s the point of this?” he asked stiffly.
“That there’s nothing wrong with having compassion for the child you were. Remembering that you were a child,” Iris said.
“I thought you said you didn’t bite,” Draco groused, rubbing his eyes.
“That stung quite a bit.”
“But it’s the good kind of pain,” Iris said.
Draco glared at her.
“I promise,” Iris said. “I’m not saying you can’t regret what happened in the past and grow past it but hating an entire facet of yourself-”
“That’s not me anymore,” Draco said.
“Not exactly you, but it’s still a part of you. Everything we live through becomes a part of us and changes who we are, not always but-”
“Not always?” Draco said.
Iris sighed, “I hate talking in absolutes. Very few things in the world are absolute… except maths, and I’ve never been very good at maths.”
Draco smiled faintly.
“I just think it’s healthier to accept even those parts of ourselves that give us the most difficulty because you can’t work through something you won’t even acknowledge is there,” Iris said.
Jasmine padded back over and threw herself face-first onto her bed with a groan.
“This was a good first meeting,” Iris said, “I think I’m going to put you in my new group. We’ll meet here, in the mind healing wing, in conference room four, twice a week on tuesdays and thursdays at two.”
“What day is it?” Draco asked.
“I’ll get you a calendar and a copy of the schedule.” Iris smiled and stood up, “Come on, I’ll get you checked out, and we can go over a few more things.”
Draco slowly slid his legs off the bed, his body stiff and aching from the long bed rest.
“And Jasmine, when I come back, we’re going to have a chat,” Iris said.
Jasmine groaned into her pillow.
“Unless you manage to fall asleep, of course,” Iris added.
Jasmine added a muffled, ‘oh fuck off’.
“I always enjoy our talks as well,” Iris said.
💜 Next update will be tuesday pst 💜 everyone say hello to Iris!🥰 💜
Tags below v (I don’t have a permanent tags list. All tags are of the wonderful people who left messages on the previous 2 parts.)
💜 @pain-changes-everything thank you so much!!!!! 💜 💜 💜
💜 @slyther-ink I always wanted a fic where harry calls draco princess(derogatory) I think it’s very funny 💜 💜 thank you so much!! 💜
💜 @justafangirlslikes thank you!! 🥰💜
💜 @havingaverydrarryday thank you! 💜
💜 @shadowybook Thank YOUUUUUU!!!!!! 💜 💜
💜 @dewitty1 thank you so much!!!! 💜
💜 @languedor71 thank you!!! so much!!! I lke them too 💜 💜
💜 @onomtonks thank you!!! 💜
💜 @snarkyship they’d get along a lot faster but harry is being difficult🤔 what a big baby, just open up and be emotionally venerable with your old school rival that you almost killed once! lol💜 thank oyu sooooo much!!! 💜
💜 @chosen-potter thank you!
💜 @addicted-to-w0rds the danish is very important XD 💜thank you! 💜
💜 @cloack thank you!! there is so much more to go! 💜 💜 💜
💜 @devilrising they’ve been through some shit together 💜 thank you soooooo much!!!! 💜
💜 @dracodragon19872 thank you so much!!! creativity and inspiration are very rude to ignore my writing schedule and just do whatever they like XD 💜 💜 💜
💜 @champagnemonarch 💜 @cats-extra-tails 💜
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Tour and a Melody.
The long-distance calls and facetime at ungodly hours are the new consistency while Harry is again on the road. It's painful. The bedsheets are cold and bare; the coffee doesn't taste the same without him drinking it beside you every morning, and you're not used to sleeping alone. But, on the other hand, two years of having him to yourself have spoiled you. You got used to the morning coffees, having him home every day to lock the doors at night. You got used to not having to share him with the world as you had for most of your relationship with him.
Now, with him being back on the road, you're back to sharing him with the world and his fans. It is bittersweet having to share him, you love the fact he gets to do what he cherishes, but you despise not being there with him for it all. So, for the first few weeks, you have watched the concerts on live streams, you have eagerly waited for the outfit choices. Finally, you have resorted to being a fangirl, anxiously waiting for the live streams while curled up in bed, surrounded by pillows in an attempt not to miss the warmth of his presence.
You haul your suitcase behind you along the warm concrete, a heavy bag strapped over your shoulder, your other arm bouncing your seven-month-old on your hip, who is five minutes from throwing a tantrum for not being able to crawl around and explore. You didn't have time to stop by the hotel, determined to make it to the concert before Harry was to go on stage. "Jus' a little further," you whisper, the venue insight as you weave in and out of tour buses, security walking their way to you as you struggle. "I'm meeting Jeff," You instantly inform them. You have been down this road with security so many times. You're the wife that always ends up having to prove her identity because she never gets a backstage pass beforehand. It is hard to get a backstage pass when you show up without warning to surprise your husband. "If you call Jeff, he will confirm who I am. My hands are full, and my phone is somewhere in one of my bags."
"Ma'am," the man looks you up and down, frowning as he thinks for a moment.
"I don't think a fan trying to get backstage would be holding a baby and a suitcase," You smile, gesturing towards your daughter. "I am Harry's wife. I am just trying to find Jeff."
The security guard again scans you up and down before shaking his head, leaning towards his radio, "I have another girl claiming to be Harry's wife. Someone come and claim her. This one has a baby."
You chuckle to yourself and shake your head. When you made your comments, you had no idea Someone had tried to use you as a way to get backstage. "I've got her; she's with me," Jeff calls out as the heavy steel door closes behind him, "Don't arrest this one. This one is his wife," Jeff continues as he hurries closer.
You blink at Jeff, confused as to what the hell you have missed on this tour. "I don't think I even want to know," You mutter to yourself as Jeff takes your suitcase and the duffle bag hanging over your shoulder. "Thank you," you breathe a sigh of relief, grateful the weight of the bag is lifted off of you.
Jeff leads you into the arena, wandering in and out of complex passages, the crowd echoing through the walls' with every step you take. It's getting closer and closer to the time he has to stroll on stage, to the time where he gives the crowd his full attention for the next hour and a half, singing and dancing until his heart's content.
The moment you reach backstage, the vibration of the crowd gets louder, and you sigh. "I'm sorry, we tried to stall as long as we could," one of the members from Harry's team informs you.
You grant him a meagre smile and nod your head, disappointed as you bounce your little girl on your hip, exhausted from the flights. "You can watch from the floor. It's safe," the member gestures towards the narrow path that'll lead to the floor where the stage is.
You shake your head, "I have Melody," you gesture towards your daughter as you bounce her, attempting to resist her urge of aspiring to crawl across the floor. "I can't take her out there. She's already fussy, it's loud, and I don't know how she'll handle it, even if we put earmuffs on her." You respond, glimpsing towards the bag Jeff took off your shoulder as it rests on a chair. "It's not the end of the world. I'll see him in a little bit," you continue, aspiring to discover the positive in the slight hiccup.
Three and a half weeks, that is how long it has been since you have seen him in person. That is a long time not to be able to hug or kiss your husband. And an even longer time for him not to hold his pride and joy in his arms, melody. You take a blanket out of the bag and place it down on the floor before placing Melody down, enabling her the floor time she has been fussing over.
The curtain backstage moves, and you gaze up to notice Harry, appearing in a hurry, but he stops the moment he recognises you, "Baby, hey!" He greets, bustling towards you with a broad smile and bright eyes, sweat pouring down his face.
"Hey, aren't you meant to be on stage?" You question, your eyes glancing to your watch.
Harry hums, taking Melody from your arms and holding her in front of him, "Hi, my darling, oh I have missed you," he coos, planting a sweet kiss to her lips before bringing her to rest on his hip. "Bathroom break."
You chuckle and shake your head, "You're worse than me."
"Ay, I have to keep drinking; it's bloody hot on stage," Harry responds, "Gonna let me kiss you or are you going to banter with me?" Harry grins, leaning forward and kissing you sweetly.
"Mmm, I have missed you," you breathe out, grinning against his lips.
"I have missed you both."
"You have to get back on stage," you flick your head towards the curtain that leads to the walkway to the stage. "I'll try to keep her awake for you," You assure Harry, regarding the way he's holding his little girl with no desire to hand her back.
You can tell that he has missed his cuddles with her and lulling her to sleep. He misses the nights of softly singing to her and giving her a bottle. Although he doesn't necessarily miss not sleeping, he misses his family more than anything. This is the part of touring he despises, the distance.
Harry sighs and nods his head, "Daddy will be back for his cuddles." Harry whispers, handing Melody back to you and kissing your forehead, "I love you," he presses before he's being hurried back to his stage to perform.
"Ah, I'm sorry about that bathroom break," Harry announces to his fans, "My wife and little girl surprised me, and I couldn't help myself but sneak in a cuddle when I saw them. But, I promise for the next forty-five minutes, you'll get my undivided attention."
You had attempted your best to wait backstage for him, so he could run off the stage and wrap his arms around his little girl and shower her with kisses, but you couldn't stay back there. It was getting loud and chaotic, to the point even you were getting anxious.
You stand outside near the tour buses, doing everything possible to keep Melody calm, you have tried milk, you have attempted bouncing her, you have tried using her toys, nothing is working, nothing will lull her to sleep for more than a minute. Perhaps it's the new scenery and the travelling that has launched her over the edge, or maybe it's the fact that she's tired of only your company. You're unsure of which one it is, but you're at your wits ends yourself.
The last few weeks haven't been easy at all. They have been chaos.
"Geez, can hear her cries from inside," Harry's voice distracts you as the steel door closes behind him and shuffles closer to you with two guards behind him. He's clothed in a pair of black sweatpants and a t-shirt, a loose curl falling down his forehead from the lack of hairspray, and he's wearing his adoring smile. "What's the matter? Come 'ere sweet angel," Harry coos, taking her from your arm, commencing to sway with her from side to side, "Louder than my fans, you are," Harry jokes, attempting to wipe away her tears. "Was worried when I didn't see you backstage." Harry gazes towards you.
"Been trying to calm her down. I thought coming out here would help soothe her." You sigh, overwhelmed and disheartened with everything.
Harry pouts as he stares at his little girl, "Being fussy is only cute when it's you're Daddy," Harry jokes, striving to make you laugh. "Relax, Y/N, it's all okay," Harry gives you a petite smile. "You're stressed. What's going through your mind?"
You shake your head, too exhausted even to release your thoughts and emotions. "Darling," Harry presses, leaning forward and kissing your forehead; before stepping back, he places his finger inside Melody's mouth, benevolently massaging her gums. "I'd say we have a few minutes before this remedy stops working."
You nod your head, "Her teething is going to be the death of me."… "It has been a struggle," you confess, watching as Harry's eyes soften on yours.
You don't want to make him feel guilty or to end his tour by any means. You love the fact he's doing his job, but you can't hide the fact it has been torturous doing life without him. But, of course, it's a lot harder to do this when you have a baby than when you're married.
Before Harry can respond, you're both interrupted by security, "You need to get on the bus, we are getting ready to leave, and fans are starting to spot the three of you," the man gestures towards the few fans standing at the fence.
"Do you have everything?" Harry challenges, "Where are your bags?"
"Jeff took the suitcase, and this is all I have," you gesture towards the duffle bag at your feet, clutching the strap with your hand and drawing it over your shoulder.
Harry nods his head towards the bus, and you both walk towards it, waving graciously to the few fans before security opens the door. "Please dim the lights," Harry reasonably requests as you climb the few steps and walk into the bus, Harry right behind you.
The bus hasn't changed much. It's coarse-featured and adorned with candles and pillows, the only new edition being the fact Harry belatedly put in a television. For years you urged him for a television on the bus. He never really felt the need for it. The man could survive without television and his phone. He's so detached that it isn't funny. Although, to be honest, if it weren't for his concern for you and his family in Cheshire, he wouldn't carry his phone with him. He has no need for it besides being able to contact a few people.
He settles down on the closest part of the large couch, ensuring not to disturb his daughter, who has quietened down for the first time in the last hour. "You alright?" You question, noticing his discomfort.
"I am not that you two are here."
"No, seriously, are you okay?" You press, aware that he attempts to conceal things just like you do. He doesn't like people to worry or fuss about him.
Harry nods his head, "Jus' a bit tired and sore."
"Sore? Did your clumsy self fall again?" You try to suppress the grin on your face, "I've been telling you to get a cordless mic."
Harry chuckles and shakes his head, "You're funny. My back has been bothering me for a few nights, I went for a run like I usually do the other morning, and it has been downhill from there."
"Getting old, Styles?"
Harry nods his head, "I am," he agrees, his eyes flicking towards the bus doors as they open.
Jeff unobtrusively walks in and leans on the doorframe as you take a seat opposite Harry. "We're about to start moving. We have a nine-hour drive, so get comfy. We're on the bus for three days, but when we do reach a hotel, I have made sure it's baby-friendly, you'll have all that you need for Melody," Jeff informs the two of you, glancing down at his phone. "Unless there's anything I need to know, I'll leave you two alone."
"Uh, I have a strange request," Harry grabs Jeff's attention, stopping him from walking out.
"And so the diva requests begin," Jeff laughs, undividedly kidding. It is sporadic for Harry to ask for anything. He is very low maintenance. His outfits may be over the top and high maintenance, but he is not. "What is it?"
"We're going to need to stop by a grocery store."
"A grocery store?" Jeff raises a brow, "We have everything you like to eat stocked on the bus." Jeff motions towards the back of the tour bus with a fully stocked mini-fridge and cabinets with all sorts of healthy snacks, with a few sweets, stashed away.
Harry nods his head, "Yes, I am very thankful. But we have about fifteen minutes before she starts screaming bloody murder again. We need to stop so we can get her some stuff to soothe her. My finger and a wet cloth will only last so long," Harry informs Jeff, "It'll take me two minutes to run in and buy a teething ring and some fruits and veggies for her to chew on." Harry continues, gesturing towards his little girl.
"They wouldn't let me keep her teething ring at the airport, made me throw it out," you inform Jeff, "They were pricks at the airport."
"I'll tell the driver," Jeff agrees, "Anything else?"
Harry shakes his head, "No, thank you," Harry responds, and Jeff steps off the bus. Harry stares down at his price and joy, his grin widening and his eyes softening. "No more fussing, baby," Harry whispers, still massaging her gums, allowing her to chew on his finger, "I see you getting sleepy; it's okay to close your eyes. Daddy's not going anywhere," Harry whispers, leaning down and kissing the top of her head, unable to stop himself from smiling as he looks down at her.
Harry takes in a sharp breath and swallows hard, refusing to take his eyes off his little girl, "Harry," you sigh, getting up and sitting beside him.
"I'm fine," he's swift to assure you, "She's my priority; poor baby has to be feeling terrible."
"Mhm," you hum, "And what about you?" You question, caressing your hand to his back, beginning to rub it in soothing circles.
"Did you know—"
"I don't want to hear a fact about the state we are in," you cut him off, aware that he's going to divert the conversation, equally aware he's full of random facts he chooses to tell his fans during his shows. It is his new thing.
"Ouch, tough crowd," Harry chuckles, "Jus' a bit of pain, nothing I haven't felt before."
"Your pain tolerance is remarkable," You comment, "It would make me feel better if you took it easy."
"Ah, but taking it easy doesn't pay the bills."
You nod your head, "Indeed, but I think your daughter would like to see you walking when she's old enough to walk, so take care of yourself," You respond, laying down beside him, your eyes casted on his back.
He could sit in his position for hours if it meant his little girl would be comfortable. By the way he is leaning forward slightly, you can tell that he is far from comfortable, but he is too selfless to move. "Ye' spoiling her," you sigh, your eyes moving to look up at the ceiling of the bus.
"I'd never," Harry chuckles, well aware that he spoils his little girl and would do anything for her. She has had him wrapped around her finger from the moment he found out you were pregnant with her. "Y/N?"
"Mhm?" you hum, sitting up and pressing your hand to his back before leaning closer and kissing his cheek.
Harry clears his throat, "I hate to ask, but would you-" Harry begins. Before he can finish his sentence, you begin to rub his back in soothing circles. "Think I'm the spoilt one."
You chuckle, "Such a spoilt popstar."
"Not a pop star," Harry shakes his head, "Jus' a husband and a Dad."
"And a bloody good one," You assure him, "So what's this about you having multiple wives?"
"You have multiple wives that security has to send away," You inform him, remembering the earlier incident with security.
Harry laughs and shakes his head, "Someone said that they were you, and when I went to get you, I immediately noticed that the woman in front of me was not my wife."
"That's your story, and you're sticking to it, huh?" You gently tease him, continuing to rub his back.
"I can barely keep up with the wife I have. I couldn't handle two," Harry responds, his eyes flicking down at Melody, her whimpers beginning to start, "Oh... No crying," Harry stands to his feet, starting to rock her in his arms while standing. "Shh, I know, I know," Harry whispers, beginning to wander up and down the aisle of the tour bus in an attempt to keep her calm.
Harry paces for thirty minutes, humming, singing, dancing, doing everything possible to help soothe her and keep her peaceful, but the more he tries, the louder her cries get. Finally, Harry sighs and makes his way to the driver, aware that the man can hear his daughter wailing. "I am so sorry," Harry begins, "I hate to be that person, but I need to stop at the closest store." Harry once again asks, apologising profoundly to the driver who has heard the crying.
Harry steps towards you, "I have no clue how you did this on your own."
You lift your shoulders into a shrug, "I drink wine once she is soothed and asleep," you respond, giving Harry Melody's blanket for him to wrap her up in. "Spraying your cologne used to help get her to sleep for the first week," You admit, watching him smile at the idea of you spraying his cologne. "Take your shirt off and try skin to skin. It might give us a few more minutes until we can get a teething ring," you suggest, gingerly placing your hands to lift her from him. Harry nods his head and takes his t-shirt off, taking Melody back into his arms and holding her against his chest, placing her blanket over her.
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The fine hairs on Hermione’s arm lift, as if compelled away from her body by magical static and a thrill of closeness. With a deep breath and another bite of her stolen breakfast, she steps back.
The rope yearns. It pulls. She wants to seek the comfort closeness begs of her. Every inch in the opposite direction amplifies her frustration. She knows she’s emotional, and she’s frustrated over it. It’s a self-fulfilling spiral wherein her agitation only grows.
She swats at the rope, silver swirling, dissipating, and reforming. She wants a moment of peace from it, just one.
“Not right now. I just”—she huffs, sighs, swats some more—“don’t want to. Not right now.” Her eyes sting, a raw burn in the back of her sockets so fierce she wonders if petrol might be involved. Her throat closes, tense and aching. She can’t breathe, but she’s still mumbling, still trying to tell the rope no, not right now, please leave me alone for just one minute of my day.
She thinks as far as meltdowns go, this is a quiet one: self-contained.
Chapter Eleven is available on AO3! Read it here!
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Loki was all you could think about as you crawled desperately through shards of broken glass, piles of plaster, and thick smoke. Nothing else mattered to you more than to be by his side and hold his hand for the last time.
You see him looking at you — lying on a pool of his own blood, slowly losing his consciousness, with tears in his eyes as he takes in your horrible state. He didn't have the strength anymore, but he still managed to lift his arm up and reach out his hand to you. Tears flooded your eyes as you realized he wanted to spend his final moments with you, too.
The world around you was burning, but both of you didn't care. You two had each other.
You lay beside him as you finally reached him. Staring into each other's eyes, no words were needed to be said, you just held his hand as tightly as you could. As he nodded his head weakly, you understood and nodded back. You smiled at each other and closed your eyes at the same time.
As your consciousness slowly fades, the last thing you felt was his hand holding yours. You felt relieved, bringing a smile to your lips. It was still a happy ending, after all.
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another revelation (draws us closer)
written for day 4 of @ghostgothgeek‘s Shiptember 2021: Awkward
Valerie didn't have time for this.
In theory, escaping the broken elevator should be a piece of cake. With her blasters, she could pull apart the doors no problem and then maneuver her way up onto the next floor. All it took was one small mental command for her suit, letting the metal wash over her civilian clothes. Then she could join Phantom in the fight against whatever ghost had decided to wreak havoc at her school this time.
But as luck would have it, Danny Fenton was in the elevator with her. His eyes darted around the elevator, scanning for some way out. She didn't doubt his resourcefulness, he was a Fenton after all, but Valerie couldn't wait that long. She needed out of this damn elevator and she needed out now.
"This isn't good…" he muttered. "There's ghosts out there."
"Yeah, no shit. We need to get out of here before they bring the fight to us."
Or so she could bring the fight to them, but Danny didn't have to know that. She just had to act like she was worried for their safety and he wouldn't question why she was really eager to get out of the elevator.
Ever since her alliance with Phantom, she tried her best not to let the other hero take on too much of the workload. She felt like shit, just standing here while Phantom was out there fighting the battle all alone. There wasn't much that kept him away from a fight. She envied him for not having to deal with all this secret identity bullshit.
"Maybe my parents will take care of it…?" he suggested.
She scoffed. "Your parents' reaction time is crap. Phantom will be here long before them."
He didn't look like he had much faith in the ghost kid. Odd. Unlike his ghost hunting parents, Danny usually supported Phantom. At least that's how he made it sound in school—maybe he was just putting on for his classmates and shared more of his parents' beliefs than he let on?
Outside of the elevator, there was a crash. Danny jumped back, almost sending Valerie falling to the floor.
"Sorry…" he rubbed the back of his neck.
"You're good," she insisted.
It didn't sound like Phantom was doing a good job with damage control today. All more reason for her to get out of this elevator.
Her partner needed her.
Fuck this. Danny Fenton knowing her secret wasn't ideal, but she was out of options. Maybe since his parents were ghost hunters, he'd be somewhat understanding...
"I have something to tell you!"
Valerie did a double take.
They'd spoken over each other at the same time.
"I'm the Red Huntress!"
"I have a crush on you!"
Danny's eyes blew wide in shock and Valerie had to make sure that her feet were still on the ground.
Oh God. That was not what she was expecting.
She cared about Danny, she really did, but she didn't feel the same way. Maybe the shock of the first revelation would soften the rejection?
"I have a crush on Phantom!"
"Uh… I was not expecting you to say that," he admitted. "I wouldn't have… wouldn't have said that if uh. Yeah."
"I'm sorry," she grabbed him by the arm, "you're WHAT?"
Her face was hot and she had no doubt she was blushing. He could not be serious right now. He was just fucking with her, messing with her head. Because that's what Danny Fenton did!
He tensed in her grip. "I'm sorry, I wasn't uh. I mean, you said you're the Red Huntress and I already knew so I just thought it was fair to admit it because that wasn't fair to you to blow your secret while I kept mine and I've really been meaning to come clean since our truce and I've been putting it off because I was afraid that I'd make things weird between us and now I have and—"
She put her hand over his mouth. "Shut up."
He gave a muffled, "Mm-hm."
"You're not Phantom. Phantom, if you haven't noticed, is a ghost. I don't know why you're playing with me, especially after I just told you I'm an actual ghost hunter but it's not funny at all. Now, if you don't mind, I have to go take care of that ghost—"
She watched in horror as the hand held against Danny's mouth pushed through his head and into the space behind him. Danny stepped to the side, far too calm for someone who'd just had an arm pass through his skull. "Yeah, so about that. I am a ghost."
In a flash of light, Danny's clothes began to darken and stretch—skin tight. His eyes glowed toxic green and all remnants of color were stripped from his hair, leaving it stark white. In a matter of moments, Danny Fenton became the striking image of Phantom.
His feet left the floor and Valerie's whole world spun on its axis.
"And a pretty good-looking one, I may add," his voice dripped with cheekiness. "Given that I've captured the affections of one gorgeous ghost hunter~!"
He was Phantom.
She'd just… she'd just told her crush she liked him.
He was never going to let her live this down.
"No!" she bemoaned. "Not you!"
Phantom frowned. "Uh… that wasn't. I'm uh, sorry if I wasn't what you expected..."
"This is humiliating!" she cried. "I just told you to your face and—and—"
There was another crash outside of the elevator. Valerie spun toward the noise, danger forgotten. Phantom reacted as well, raising his ectoblast-charged fists toward the commotion.
"We can talk later," he said. "I'll get us out of here."
Before Valerie could protest, Phantom pulled her toward him and she felt her insides chill. They flew through the elevator door, and as fast it had come, the foreign feeling ceased. Phantom lowered her to the floor and gave her a knowing nod before flying off toward the battle.
Well, it was now or nothing.
If the fight wasn't awkward, then the conversation afterward definitely was.
She and Phantom—Danny?—managed to catch the ghost in under five minutes. It was all contingent on Valerie capturing the ghost in her thermos while Phantom kept it weakened. The specter struggled as it was pulled into the capture device, but they were victorious nonetheless.
Well, if they could call this a victory. The ghost, a vengeful lioness, had wreaked an unprecedented amount of havoc on the school's east wing. Several classrooms were missing walls and rows upon rows of desks had been decimated. If only they'd left the elevator sooner…
"This is going to take weeks to repair," Phantom commented. He hadn't been injured much during the fight except for a thin scratch across his forehead that bled green. If she remembered correctly, it was an injury he'd gotten during their last fight. It must've opened again. "Good thing winter break is just around the corner."
Valerie's mouth suddenly felt dry. "Y—yeah."
"So uh, about this. You… are you okay with this? Like, we're not going to break our alliance now that you know I've been lying to you and—" he blushed a furious green "—and about what I said earlier."
Phantom was Danny Fenton and he liked her back.
Valerie didn't even know where to start. Obviously, she still liked him. Being Danny Fenton didn't change much, given that she'd fallen for him once before and only broke it off because she didn't want him to get hurt because of her ghost hunting. Except, now she'd fallen for him twice and she hadn't even known it because Danny was also a ghost hunter and a ghost and—
How was it even possible?
How could someone be a human and a ghost at the same time?
"I don't get it," she blurted. "How are you the same person? Like, not that there's anything wrong with you and Danny being the same—our alliance is fine—but I don't get it."
In the air, Phantom sat cross-legged and raised a hand to his chin. (It was so cute when he did that—!)
In a rush of words, he explained his lab accident and how he'd stepped up as the town's ghostly protector. It was an eye-opening revelation that provided context for so many things she'd taken for granted. He explained how he'd known she was the Red Huntress since the beginning and how hard he'd fallen for her when they'd first dated, how he still liked her even though he respected her breaking it off.
"I just don't want to make this awkward if you don't feel the same way anymore," he said. "I know that you said you liked Phantom, not me as Danny. I'm just some dork and I get that."
She scoffed. "Yeah, you are a dork!"
Something in his resolve deflated, but she continued.
"You're a dork as Phantom too, you know? Why would that change anything? I said I like you and I meant it!"
She was blushing again, she knew it, but she couldn't quite find a reason to care.
Phantom let himself lower to the floor and in another flash he was Danny again. Just plain old Danny Fenton with black hair, blue eyes, and a loose T-shirt that seemed to swallow him whole.
Valerie leaned forward and grabbed his hands, looking deep into those blue eyes—which now that she looked, had small flecks of green.
"For real, Danny."
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Domestic Wolf 3: Wolves Get Territorial, Right?
Bucky x nurse!reader
Warnings: mentions of weapons and violence, teasing of smut, Bucky on a motorcycle (felt like this should be a warning because it's so hot)
Part two is here!
Thanks for reading!
"Buck, you put way too much wasabi in there."
Scrunching his nose, he shakes his head. "You scared, doll? Thought it was just a little spice, huh?"
He looks at her just in time to catch her mouth falling open in offense. Her hand falls to her chest, the chopsticks in her palm pressing into the fabric of a tee-shirt she used to wear too often back in Romania. It's an old Frank Sinatra one, the edges worn and faded. He used to think she wore it so often to try and bring some familiarity to him but with how loved it's been over the past five years he's starting to think she just loves it.
"I can handle spice Barnes," she argues, "I was just looking out for you, but be my guest."
Bucky snickers, placing the little bowl of soup sauce and wasabi on the coffee table in front of them. Y/n shoves his own set chopsticks towards him, purposely jabbing his ribs with her elbow before settling back against the couch. The tray of California and lobster rolls rests on the table, waiting to be devoured by the two. His stomach rumbles a bit, but he takes his time to reach over y/n's shoulders and drag her across the living room floor until she's tucked into his side. She half-heartedly fights him, leaning her weight the opposite direction and kicking at his shins under the coffee table but she moves like putty in his hold.
"Thanks for making me try new food, doll." He says earnestly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. She grumbles, bumping their shoulders together roughly but he can see a smile peeking through her pout.
"You've had sushi before," she says, using her chopsticks to pinch a California roll. Dipping it in the soy sauce before bringing the roll to her lips. Bucky waits, tongue pressing into his cheek as she chews.
Swallowing her bite, she shoots him an annoyed look. "I still think you put too much wasabi."
He laughs, metal fingers picking up his own utensils. "I'll be the judge of that," he mumbles, picking up his own roll and dipping it. The minute it touches his tongue there's a strong sting, the wasabi overpowering most of the soy sauce. Still, he finishes his bite and smiles at y/n despite the temptation to start fanning his tongue with his fingers. "Tastes fine to me doll."
"You may be clever Bucky, but you're a terrible liar."
Handing him a mug of iced tea, Bucky avoids her smug smirk as he drinks the chilled liquid. She gets up to dump the soy sauce and pour more, adding just a touch of wasabi and this time when he tries a lobster roll, the mixture of flavors is perfect. He's slightly annoyed by her ability to do just about everything but he loves it more than he hates it.
They watch reruns of a sitcom that y/n loves, and while Bucky hasn't seen it all so it doesn't really make sense but he enjoys how much it makes her giggle. He remembers sitting on the floor of his old crappy apartment back when they first new each other, her knee brushing his thigh and their elbows occasionally bumping while they did everything and anything together. He tried to piece his mind together, read up on current events and write down what little he remembered, trying to find overlaps. She never bugged him when he worked, just sat by him, leaning against the dented and scratched walls while she did paperwork or read. That was the first place he felt like he really existed and with her there, they existed together.
The paranoia that had been itching at the back of his brain suddenly pushes forward. He loves her, loves this, loves their home here in Queens. But he's not safe yet. No matter how many pardons and therapists he has to go through, his actions won't be forgotten by the world.
He doesn't want to lose this home with her. Not again.
"Y/n," he says, pulling her attention from the TV. "I've been thinking and I gotta get an apartment. One under my name, paid by me and whatnot."
Bucky tries to ignore the way her eyes dull just a bit and her lips and shoulders droop. He can't ignore the way it aches deep in his soul to see it. "What are you talking about Bucky?"
Running his fingers through his hair, he puffs out a deep breath. "I just don't really want this-us getting out and with all the government interference in my life right now, I have to keep you out of that part of my life. Last thing I want is someone showing up here looking for me."
She purses her lips, drops her gaze to the carpet under her legs and thinks for a moment. Bucky's hand find hers, lacing their fingers together. After a beat, she sighs and looks up at him. He doesn't miss the sadness that's glossing them.
Turning back to the TV, y/n brings her knees up to her chest and hugs her arms around them. Bucky's heart cracks when her bottom lip trembles and she bites it in an attempt to hide it from him. He doesn't want to hurt her, to make her sad but this is just something he has to have. If he's going to keep her safe he has to build this double life, has to have a side that's strictly super soldier Bucky. His cover up for the life he has with just her.
Unsure what to say, Bucky presses a kiss to the side of her head, keeping his arm over shoulders so she knows that he'll always be hers.
By the time Bucky's cleaned up the kitchen and showered, y/n has shut off all the lights and tucked herself into the makeshift bed on the floor, body curled away from the side of the pallet he's claimed. The sight makes him ache, missing the way she'd usually be waiting to tuck him in next to her. Guilt settles heavily in his chest, tempting him to take it all back but he doesn't allow himself. He's suffered far too much, lost too much in his lifetime and he never wants to lose y/n. He wants to be with her, to marry her, to have a life with her. He wants everything he used to dream of all those decades ago when he was just a bright-eyed kid from Brooklyn with a big heart.
He can't let himself give up that dream.
"Doll," Bucky whispers, tossing his shirt onto the abandoned mattress in the corner of the room before settling into bed next to her. He receives a hum of acknowledgement. "please look at me. Don't go to bed like this."
"It's practice," she says quietly, "for when I have to go to bed without you again."
The pause after her words lasts long enough for him to feel his heart break. Oh his poor girl. His poor, sweet girl who loves him more than he's worth.
"No baby," Bucky sighs, and because he's stubborn and he loves her, he climbs over her until he's laying where he can see her face squished into the pillow. Vibranium fingers brush over her cheekbone, tucking away stray strands of hair. "you think I'm going to let you go after everything? After all these years?"
Her eyes flutter open, wet and sad as they meet his gaze. "You're leaving Buck," she whispers "you said you were leaving."
His thumb swipes away a tear on her cheek. "I'm not leaving you," he swears "I just-you know that I have to have a backup. A plan..."
"An escape." She finishes, and he knows she's thinking of the elaborate way he'd rigged his apartment in Romania. His escape plan.
Bucky nods. "Yeah but this time you're in the plan doll."
The hopefulness of her tone makes his heart throb. He doesn't understand how he got this, how he got here. Someone who just wants to be with him all the time, rain or sunshine, it doesn't matter. It's confusing but he's not going to ruin it.
"Course," he responds as she moves over to his side of the pallet, making room for him under the blankets. "never leave you behind or in danger. Never again."
Shyly, she pulls the blanket up to his chin, tucking him in. "So if something went wrong and you had to disappear again..."
"It'll be you and me," he finishes, freeing a hand so he can cup her chin. "as long as you want to come with me."
Sniffling, she smiles that big beautiful grin that made him fall in love with her. Bucky returns it, swiping his knuckle through the little dip in her chin.
"I'll go anywhere with you Bucky Barnes."
With a pop the clasp on her chin lossens, her hands lifting the sleek black helmet off her head. She's barely removed it before two firm hands are placing a baseball cap over her hair and tugging the hood of her pullover on top of it.
"I feel like this draws more attention to me," she says, huffing when Bucky lifts the collar of the leather jacket he's made her wear, further shielding her face.
"Don't care if it draws attention to you," he says, plucking the sunglasses out of his breast pocket. "want to hide any defining features." The glasses are slipped over her nose, hiding her eyes from the world.
"Is this going to be my new date night attire?" She asks, peeking at her reflection in the building window next to them. Bucky's leather jacket almost swallows her and with the layers used to hide her featured she looks like a big lump of fabric. "I'm not feeling it Barnes."
"Hey, half of that outfit is mine." He says, offended. "I think you look great in my clothes. Marry ya in that leather jacket if you'd let me."
He's got his hands on his hips, eyebrows pinched together and lips sagging in a pout. Sometimes she forgets that he can be such a baby. It's refreshing, seeing her Bucky back and in full form. He'd just begun to come back to himself when he'd been ripped away from her by The Avengers.
At that moment she's thankful for the sunglasses over her eyes because tears have suddenly gathered in them, blurring her vision. She sniffles back the overwhelming emotions that have flooded her heart, practically jumping at Bucky and wrapping her arms around his middle.
Bucky stumbles, caught off guard, but doesn't hesitate to return the affection, biceps caging her head in against his chest. He presses his lips to the top of her head and she can feel their warmth despite the two caps in the way.
"You okay?" He asks softly, confused and concerned.
She nods. "Yeah. Just love you so much."
Bucky's chest and neck warm, arms squeezing her tighter, and despite his constant wonder of how he manage to snatch her up, he whispers back, "love you too baby. More than I could ever say."
He strokes her back for a moment, understanding that she needs some time. It's not easy dealing with the baggage of their relationship. Sometimes he looks at her and he's so utterly in awe of how much he loves her that he feels as if he could just float away. After everything he's so grateful to still have her in his life, to still love her.
When they pull away she stays holding onto his left arm, cheek against his bicep as he leads her across the street and towards the apartment complex. Y/n notices how quickly he guides her to the elevator, broad shoulders pulled back as if he's expecting danger of some sort. That makes her smile because some things about James Bucky Barnes just don't change.
The elevator takes them up to the 7th floor, opening up to reveal a plain grey corridor. It's a nice building, sleek and modern, but it looks more like a typical Manhattan business man kind of place rather than a Bucky place.
713 is the door they stop at, Bucky digging out a key and handing it to her.
"Try it out," he says, subtly glancing around the public space. "s'yours." Heart swelling, y/n bites back a giddy smile as she shoves the key in the lock and swings the door open. Bucky guides her in with a hand on her back, crowding her shoulder as they move together. He closes and locks the door behind them.
Like the rest of the building, it's plane. Sleek, silver Samsung appliances in the grey tiled kitchen. Separated by a bar countertop, the living room holds only a black leather couch and a television. The walls are empty, egg shell white with one grey accent wall. A short hallway leads to what she suspects is the bedroom.
"I know you love blending in," she says tugging off the sunglasses. "but this is a bit dull Buck." The lenses get hooked on the collar of her hoodie.
"Not gonna personalize a place I don't actually live in." He responds, nudging her towards the living room. "S'just a setup doll."
Y/n moves towards the couch, placing her key and phone on the counter before Bucky stops her with a hand around her elbow. Curiously, she halts and looks at him. His lips are tilted down in a subtle pout and his gaze has filled with that determined look he gets when he's going into superhero mode. He means business right now.
"Let me show you some things doll," he says, pulling her towards the living room window. His view is of a narrow alley and a parking garage a few stories down, the top of another building peeking out from it. They stop in front of the glass, Bucky lifting the window open with his vibranium arm.
"If you're ever here and something goes wrong," he begins, reaching out the window and to the balcony. His fingers hook under the metal ledge, pulling down a key. "grab this key. Take the balcony down two floors and cross over to the parking garage. Second level, spot 15 has a car there. Use the key and follow the GPS. It'll take you somewhere safe. As soon as you click that address it'll let me know."
He places the magnetic key back, sliding the window shut and locking it. Firmly, he grips both of her shoulders, icy blue eyes earnest as they lock on hers. "I'll come find you okay?" He says, shaking her just a bit like he's trying to make sure that promise sticks. Her throat suddenly feels really tight. "Call you as soon as I know that you're moving, make sure your safe."
Y/n nods, swallowing around the lump in her throat. Her voice is choked when she repeats the instructions back to him. "Key under the railing. Two stories down. Level 2, spot 15. Follow the GPS and know you're coming."
Bucky finally softens, smiling just a bit and cupping his right hand behind her neck. "Good girl," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "if you ever forget ask me okay? Repeat myself a thousand times if it keeps you safe."
Melting into his hold, y/n tucks her face into his neck. She laughs wetly because there's no way in hell she'll forget 215. Bucky does everything with intention and when he chose to park her getaway car there, he did it with her old apartment in mind. The one he use to seek asylum in back in Romania. Apartment 215 was the safe house of the Winter Soldier and now he's made it her safe house.
"I'd never forget Bucky."
He places another kiss to the side of her head, squeezing her to his chest. Bucky shows her to his equally plain bedroom and bathroom, everything filled with the bare necessities to make it known that someone lives here, but not enough to give away who. Hidden behind the bathroom mirror is a safe, a duffle bag of weapons and ammo in it. Y/n isn't the best shot but in a life or death situation she trusts her shot enough to survive. Bucky also tells her that the getaway car has extra clothes and guns in it just in case. Then he shows her every corner of the apartment where he's his knives or tazers, strategically placed so that on a hasty run to the balcony they can be grabbing quickly.
But Bucky's most important rule is that she always check with him before going over. Unless it's a dire emergency in which her apartment is unsafe, Bucky has to clear his apartment before letting her in.
"Okay," she says snuggling further into his couch, "what if I want to come here but you're busy or something? How are you going to clear it?"
Bucky being the technology loving man he is, nods his head towards the corner of the living room. A tiny camera lenses peeks out, occasionally flashing red. "Connected to my phone darling. I'll be able to make sure it's safe."
Intrigued, y/n crawls over the plush cushions and settles in Bucky's lap, straddling his thighs. "Really? Can I see?" Chuckling, Bucky digs his personal phone out of his jeans pocket, unlocking it and swiping through the apps. Y/n rests her forehead on his, eyes eager as he opens the security app and clicks live feed. A slightly blurry picture pops up displaying her sat on his lap, both of them hunched over his phone.
"Hmm," she hums, turning to glance at the camera. "interesting."
"What is doll?"
Smirking, she shrugs. "So if I decided that I maybe want to ride you on this couch as a little housewarming gift, it'll be saved to your phone?"
As if an electric current just ran through his body, Bucky jolts and takes a tight grip on her waist. "If I leave it recording it does." He says huskily, tilting his chin down to drag his lips over her jaw.
"And how do you feel about that Barnes?"
Tongue darting out to wet his lips, Bucky tuts. "Not sure I like the idea of sharing you doll. Even if it's just a camera."
Right, Bucky Barnes doesn't share.
"Alright, now that you've got the feel for it," Bucky says as the elevator lowers down to the lobby, "give me a rating."
From under the bill of her hat, y/n hums thoughtfully. Truthfully, she loves Bucky's stage apartment. She likes how safe it feels, how he went to such extreme lengths to make sure it was a place she could go to should she need help. It may be dull and boring but he put so much thought into it to protect her and their relationship that she loves the place.
"I'd say an 8 out of 10."
Bucky bites the inside of his cheek, contemplating for a second. "Fair ranking. How do I make it a 10 out of 10?"
Teasingly, she reaches up to fiddle with his dog tags, pressing her front to his. Bucky leans back against the rail, bringing her weight closer against him. "Share me with that camera of yours."
The elevator dings, stopping at the lobby as Bucky huffs, scowling down at her with no heat. She can tell by the slightly distracted glaze in his eyes that he's contemplating it and it makes her stomach flutter. Still he's stern when he says, "I don't share y/n."
He nudges her towards the door, ready to shut her argument down when a voice stops them. The man calls her name, Bucky immediately standing at attention and puffing his chest out as he sizes up the man. Suit, brief case, buzzed hair cut, and the build of a giraffe statue at a mini golf course.
"Nick?" Y/n asks as the man stands between the open doors, preventing them from shutting. Bucky slips his arm around her waist, hand firm on his stomach as he pulls her back against him. Nick's eyes flicker down to where he still holds her and then up to meet Bucky's cold glare.
"Yeah!" Nick responds, chipper despite the sweat starting to line his forehead. "This must be the famous James."
Bucky doesn't offer any response to his name. He doesn't know who this man is or how he knows y/n. Still glaring, Bucky subtly moves them closer to the exit.
"Yeah this is him." She says, ever polite. "How are you? How did things go after, ya know?"
Nick laughs, launching into a tale of him finding his girlfriend and son after everyone returned from the Blip. It makes Bucky feel a bit better that this guy has other attachments but for some reason Bucky still doesn't like him. He looks to comfortable, to familiar with y/n and that puts him on edge.
"-We may not have been each other's true loves but I'm glad I had your companionship during that time."
Bucky perks up at that, veins feeling hot as he realizes who this man is. Y/n had dated him during the Blip, spent time with him when she first moved to the city. Nick had tried to fill Bucky's shoes, unsuccessfully, but still.
"Doll, we should get going," Bucky interrupts, remaining stoic when Nick looks to him. Picking up on how uncomfortable he is, y/n quickly agrees. She barely manages a wave in Nick's direction before Bucky is lifting her up by the waist, carrying her away from the man she used to date. She can't help but think Bucky's being a bit childish, tightening his grip on her when she kicks her feet into his shin.
It's not until they're outside by his bike that he sets her down, lips still scowling and eyes still threatening as he glances up at the building behind them. But Bucky's never scared her, not even when he was the Winter Soldier so she giggles a bit, softly pinching his cheek.
"Ok, enough with the White Wolf look-"
Bucky grips her jaw, not painfully but with enough strength to make her breath falter, pressing his lips to hers roughly. His right hand slips behind her back, drawing her closer to him and when he bites at her bottom lip she gasps, allowing him to deepen the kiss.
He pulls back, breathing heavily as her eyes flutter open, and he takes in the dazed look in her eyes and the pinkness of her mouth. Smirking, Bucky kisses her once more, a soft little peck on her parted lips. Then he traces his finger under her bottom lip, dragging it down to swipe his knuckle across the little dip of her chin. His smile grows when he drops his hand and she immediately reaches for it, gripping his thumb and first two fingers tightly.
"Let's go home doll." Is all he says, reaching for her helmet with his free hand. Y/n gets it on, clipping it under her chin and releasing his hand so he can tighten it. Then they're settling on the bike, her thighs around his hips and arms hugging his chest tightly as the vehicle purrs under them.
Bucky glances up at the building once last time before driving away, smirking when his eyes find the window on the 4th floor and Nick is still standing there. Now he knows that y/n has the kind of man she deserves.
Bucky's sat on the couch, eyes on the TV in front of them but distant as if he were looking directly through the screen. His right toes tap on the living room rug, silent but the shake of his leg is obvious. Unsure of what's got him so stuck in his own head, y/n gently crawls in his lap. Even when he's oblivious to the world around him his body reacts to her, thighs spreading further apart so she can settle on top of him more comfortably and his left hand gently cups her butt, steadying her from falling into the coffee table. Bucky's gaze doesn't focus on her until she's cupping his stubbled cheeks.
"What's going on Bucky babe?"
Blue eyes flicker between hers, lips pursed thoughtfully. His cheek rises and dips as he runs his tongue along the inside of it. She knows not to rush him, he'll tell her when he's ready. A few seconds of silence pass before he sighs heavily.
"Did you think of me when you were with him?"
Him. Nick. Y/n's heart melts in her chest, a painful ache growing in it's place. She hadn't realized he's still been thinking about that.
"You're all I ever thought about," she admits quietly as if it were a secret between the two. "I'd look for you on every corner, on every subway, in every bar I stepped foot into hoping that somehow it was just a mistake. That Steve lied or messed up when he said you were gone.
"Every place I went with him, every word I said, you were always on my mind. And he knew it too. He couldn't say anything without me changing the subject to you."
Bucky seems to grow lighter at that, a trembling breath leaving his lips. His eyes brighten, glowing with the reminder that she's so in love with him she's practically blind to everyone else in the world.
"I know you don't always see it or-or understand it but you are everything to me, Bucky."
Her thumb strokes the dip of his jaw, gaze honest and certain as his eyes search hers. His hand slides up her back, cupping the back of her neck and another shuttering breath leaves him. Gently, Bucky knocks his forehead into hers, nudging their noses together.
"I know it's not fair of me to feel like this," he says quietly, eyelashes kissing the tops of his cheekbones "but you've been my life for a long time, all I've had, and I like that. I-I don't like knowing that there was a time when we weren't us. It's-it makes me... sad."
Y/n presses her lips to the corner of his mouth. "You can feel however you want to feel Bucky, I'm not going to take that away from you. It's fair to feel that way because everything that's happened in your life has been so fucking unfair.
"I'll sit here and tell you everyday that Nick was nothing to me. We weren't even really dating, just seeing each other to try and distract ourselves from who we really wanted."
Bucky swallows heavily, soft blue eyes fluttering open. "Who did you really want?" He asks unashamedly, fingers briefly squeezing the base of her neck. "Please, I need to hear it baby."
"You," y/n responds without hesitation. "James Bucky Barnes, you were who I wanted. You're who I always want. My Bucky Bear."
A proud smile lights up his face, Bucky chuckling as he presses his lips to hers for a joyful kiss. She laughs too, knowing the little nickname she called him made his ears turn pink.
"I'm sorry," Bucky says once they've pulled back, his hand running through her hair. "I shouldn't have been so jealous."
Y/n shrugs, biting at her bottom lip. "It's ok Buck," she comforts, "wolves get territorial, right?"
He rolls his eyes but the humor in his gaze never fades. Gripping her thighs, Bucky lifts her around his waist as he moves to press her back against the cushions. Settling between her legs, he playfully growls.
"Especially this one, huh doll?" He teases, tucking his face into her neck. She giggles at the tickle of his beard, feebly attempting to wiggle away as he gently nips at her neck.
"Stop moving," he requests, pulling back to meet her gaze. She's glowing and happy, flustered from laughing so much. "m'trying to mark my territory."
Shaking her head she pulls him down into a kiss, the two lovers forgetting all about the pain of the past, even if it's only for the time being.
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a place where the heart rests
so, because @thekaiserroll drew fanart of my fanfiction i decided to return the favour by writing a long Wintersberg one-shot based off of her short comic! i hope you enjoy touch-starved Heisenberg.
warnings for death (not for main characters) and some angst.
read on ao3
Mama… I want mama. It hurts.
Karl Heisenberg always suffered from nightmares. Even before he was taken in by Mother Miranda — as a child, Heisenberg often experienced night terrors that had him screaming in his bed. There were distant memories in the back of his mind, where he’d wake from a terrible dream that had him screaming for his mother — and she’d always come to his side. In that terribly large, cold estate that Heisenberg once called home, it always felt so lonely. But, his mother always eased his fears; with her silk nightgown and the distinct smell of expensive soap. Her soft fingers would comb through Heisenberg’s locks of ashen brown hair, hushing him in a soft tone of voice — a voice he could no longer remember.
During the experiments, it was the only thing Heisenberg begged for when he felt the cadou infesting his body. It felt like a worm wriggling around in the wet soil during a storm, curling and writhing through his organs. He screamed for his mother, wishing she would save him from the pain and take him home again. A seventeen-year-old boy screaming for his mother to come and save him looked utterly pathetic from Mother Miranda’s perspective, and the feeling of fear only intensified when she stroked Heisenberg’s hair whilst he screamed. A soft whisper that uttered, “I’m your mother now, child.” It made Heisenberg nearly vomit.
That was the last time someone had ever touched him so tenderly. He’d not felt a loving touch since then and ducked away from Miranda’s so-called ‘motherly’ touches.
At first, Heisenberg coped with the intense trauma of his bodily changes by taking it in stride and calling his newfound power of magnetism a ‘gift’. He knew deep down it was the opposite: it stopped him from ageing, rendered him infertile and stripped away his dignity by becoming a slave to Miranda. It took a long time for Heisenberg to fully process what had happened to him. His father had left him in the clutches of a madwoman, and his life only got worse from there.
In a fit of rage — perhaps at the age of twenty-nine — he revisited his parent's estate to confront the man he could no longer call ‘father’. He had aged since Heisenberg last saw him, but those steel eyes he’d inherited were still as hard as ever. His mother lingered in a doorway just down the hall, but she didn’t dare come to greet her son as he snapped with a short, interrupted breath. Heisenberg had grabbed his father by the neck and pinned him to the nearest wall, knocking down a beautiful oil painting his mother adored. His fingers didn’t seem to stop, squeezing on the skin and bone until he felt a sickening crack vibrate beneath his fingers.
Heisenberg hadn’t meant it, not really. It was as if a demon had taken control of his body and sought revenge that barely mattered anymore. He didn’t realise what he’d done until he heard the sound of his mother screaming; distraught and fearful of her own son that she’d once coddled so long ago.
That was the last time Heisenberg saw his mother and father. The estate was quickly abandoned not long after, and from what he knew, his mother took her belongings and moved to Austria with some distant relatives. That large house teased Heisenberg every fucking day, with how it towered near the factory grounds and reminded him of what he’d done. Arson wasn’t exactly on his bucket list, but Heisenberg couldn’t resist taking a match to the place and watching it burn. Whatever childhood remained in that house was left in a pile of ashes, and he never looked upon it ever again. All of the silly dreams and hopes he’d had for his life were gone.
That was until Ethan Winters showed up. Nearly a hundred years later, Heisenberg felt something he’d sought after for so long — hope.
Mama. I want mama. Everything hurts.
Heisenberg forced his eyes open. It felt like his life was replaying in front of him whilst he was passed out; like watching an old film reel repeating itself and becoming more distorted each time. Up until that very night, Heisenberg’s life had been a series of traumatic events and unforgivable actions.
That night, he’d turned it all around just by laying his eyes on Ethan Winters. A man so incredible, resilient and insane… He’d do anything to get his little girl back. It was the man Heisenberg had oh-so wanted his father to be, and he admired that about Ethan. He’d never been so good at expressing his emotions honestly, or even laying out his ideas in a proper fashion to others… Oh, but Ethan was special. He’d shown Heisenberg patience that he’d not been offered before and decided to join him at his side to kill Miranda. Together.
“Karl… Fuck— Don’t die on me, asshole.”
Above the metal remnants of what his mutated body had used as a shell, he could hear Ethan pushing the scrap aside to try and find Heisenberg buried beneath it. He could also hear the distinct cries of a distressed baby, something that brought him back to Earth. Heisenberg reached up through the metal until his bare, calloused fingers brushed up against Ethan’s soft knuckles. There was a moment of silence when their skin touched, but Ethan didn’t waste any time in grabbing Heisenberg’s hand and pulling him out.
The moment the pressure around his body ceased, Heisenberg felt the telltale feeling of sickening warmth seeping from many wounds across his body. The cadou inside him didn’t react too well to it, trying to cope with the trauma done by squirming and pulsating inside of him. Heisenberg drank in the expression of Ethan’s relieved face for just a moment, only until it warped into one of worry and horror. Heisenberg was weak, and his knees buckled beneath the weight of his torso before he fell back onto the ground.
The baby cupped carefully in one of Ethan’s arms began to cry again as Ethan jostled her accidentally in an attempt to help Heisenberg. A baby crying wasn’t really helping Heisenberg’s already distressed state, but it made him realise just how fucked he was. There was no way they would get away in time together, and Heisenberg was too injured to walk. The cadou might have helped to some degree, but it didn’t ease the burning pain in his body, and the loss of blood that was making him dizzy.
Ethan’s horrified expression was pinned on an appendage from the Megamycete, which rose up from the cave systems like a flower bud in spring, ready to bloom. The small, red flashing light alerted him to the fact that Chris Redfield had succeeded in planting the bomb. They had to leave.
A silence hung in the air for just a moment, and Heisenberg didn’t realise what he’d just said. For the first time in his miserable existence, he was being selfless and urging Ethan to leave him behind. It was the last thing Heisenberg wanted.
Don’t leave me here. I’m fucking scared. I don’t want to die yet.
“Fuck you,” Ethan’s voice trembled with venom, “I’m not leaving you here now. Not after everything we’ve been through.”
Heisenberg let out a bitter chuckle, tasting the blood seeping from his gums as he grinned, “I don’t think we have any time to be arguing about this, buttercup.”
“No. I— Mia’s dead, Karl. I need you.”
That’s right. Heisenberg briefly recalled Miranda’s kidnapping of the not-so-innocent woman and the experimentation that followed. Unfortunately, her body gave in due to her state after giving birth and she died on Miranda’s operating table. Ethan’s wife was dead, and Rose was now left without a mother’s loving touch.
“I said go. Rose needs her papa intact, not blown to pieces.” Heisenberg insisted, slumping back against the pile of scrap metal.
“Damn it—” Ethan looked hesitant to leave Heisenberg. It was a truly sweet sentiment: to see someone care about him after all this time. After all of the terrible things he’d done, and the love he’d been deprived of… Someone cared about him. Maybe that was enough. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to die like this.
“Fuck.” Ethan stammered again, licking his dry lips and swallowing, “Karl… I… Thank you.”
“... Yeah. I know, Ethan.”
That was all he needed. A trembling, watery smile shot his way before Ethan held Rose close with both arms and turned to run.
He’s going to be a great father.
Heisenberg looked up at the plant-like form the Megamycete had taken, looming down upon the ceremony courtyard with writhing mold creeping closer to Heisenberg. It was then that he decided that giving in like this wasn’t who he was: he was a fighter to his last breath.
In a last attempt to preserve his life, Heisenberg parted the pile of scrap metal and shuffled beneath it all. He rolled his wrist, the cocoon of metal surrounding him and tightening. The metal creaked, drowning out the sounds of the mold writhing around the metal to try and get inside. Heisenberg closed his eyes tightly, gritting his teeth. I won’t die. Not yet.
The explosion that followed shortly after was deafening, causing the entire ground to shake beneath him and the metal to shudder against his body. It felt painful, rippling off his injured skin like that… But, fortunately for Heisenberg, the explosion wasn’t nuclear — the blast was enough to do the job and wipe out the mold and the Megamycete.
A silence followed the explosion, brick and ash collapsing against Heisenberg’s metal cocoon. Each noise made him flinch, and his fingers twitched instinctively as some final line of defence. He didn’t know how long it was before he felt brave enough to let his guard down and release his telekinetic grip on the metal. The scraps suddenly slumped, collapsing around him as Heisenberg pushed the metal off of his body and emerged like a phoenix rising from the ashes of its former self.
The smoke and dust still remained, causing Heisenberg to cough heavily as he took a sharp inhale of the air. He squinted through the dust and remains of what was left of his home town and realised how much he’d lost. It hit him all at once; his childhood, his parents and his fucked up little family. Even though he hated Miranda and his makeshift siblings deeply, they were all he truly had left to call ‘family’. It was over in the blink of an eye, and Heisenberg suddenly felt like a child all over again. Like a child waking from a nightmare, scared and alone.
Heisenberg’s fingers twitched into tight fists, clamping his mouth shut as tears threatened to spill down his face. Even after all this, he tried to will himself not to cry, to never let down the walls he had so carefully built. But, at that moment there was nothing left to keep the foundations upright. Heisenberg’s fists loosened, and he brought his hands up to cover his face instinctively. A knot seemingly untied itself in his chest and throat, and a guttural sob left him. Maybe — just maybe — it was okay.
Navigating the woods was even worse during a snowstorm at night. It was bad enough that Heisenberg’s body was weak from his healing injuries, but it felt haggard from his intense emotional breakdown. In a strange sense, he felt relief from it but at the same time, it felt awfully inconvenient. Heisenberg was sure he looked like a terrible mess; his clothes were torn and his hair was damp with clumps of ash hanging from his silver locks. Not to mention the blood staining his clothes, and his valuable dog tags that hung low on his chest.
In his many idle chats with Ethan before they fought Miranda, he could recall the other man mentioning he didn’t live too far from the village. It was a fair distance away, but not too far that it would be impossible to reach if your car broke down on the road between them. Still, it wasn’t a pleasant or short walk.
By the time Heisenberg even managed to reach a place that looked like a livable home, he was close to collapsing in the snow… But, he held out. The lights were turned off inside, but a motion sensor light on the property turned on once Heisenberg got close enough. The bulb blinded him briefly, and he held a hand up to shield his eyes as he walked up the porch to the door. Heisenberg sluggishly lifted his hand, knocking on the door as hard as he could and leaning against the frame. It took a few moments before he could see a light turn on inside from the windows, and the sound of someone walking down a wooden staircase slowly.
The person on the other side of the door stopped before they reached for the doorknob, and they spoke out.
“Who is it?”
Ethan Winters. That voice Heisenberg had missed so dearly; in all of its glory and full of caution. It almost made him laugh.
“Let me in, Ethan. I’m freezing.”
“As smart as ever, Ethan. Can you hurry up?”
Ethan was quick to unlock the door and remove the security chain, twisting the doorknob and pulling it open. There, Ethan was standing in a pristine white shirt and some boxers that hung low on his hips… Along with a pair of comical slippers that seemed to resemble a cartoon dog. Heisenberg’s lips twitched into a tired grin.
“Oh my, too much skin, Ethan. Back in my day—”
“Shut up and get in here!”
Ethan grabbed Heisenberg’s arm, tugging him inside to shield him from the snowstorm outside. He slammed the door shut and quickly locked it back up, and the two men finally stood face-to-face. There was a silence that hung in the air, with so many unanswered questions on the tip of Ethan’s tongue, but none came. Without any further hesitation, Ethan threw his arms around Heisenberg’s neck and tugged him close for an embrace.
It was the first time Ethan had touched him in such a way. So full of affection and genuinity, it made Heisenberg’s fingers tremble with uncertainty. He didn’t know what to do with his hands: so overcome with the touches that smothered him. His brows creased into an expression of relief, and Heisenberg’s steel eyes fluttered shut as he succumbed to the hug. He wrapped his arms around Ethan’s waist, squeezing him carefully and burying his face into Ethan’s shoulder. The smell of talcum powder and formula milk permeated his shirt, giving Heisenberg the comfort he craved. He never wanted Ethan to stop touching him, and he was content to stay like this for as long as he could — to make up for all the time he’d lost aching after affection.
“I thought…” Ethan mumbled slowly, “I thought you were dead.”
“Mm.” Heisenberg hummed lowly in response, curling his fingers into Ethan’s shirt. “So did I. Turns out I’m hard to kill.”
Ethan snorted softly.
As it turned out, Heisenberg wasn’t too bad with kids.
It was a tough adjustment for the two men at first; Ethan had to keep Heisenberg a well-guarded secret as he was moved to a new location with Rose (courtesy of the BSAA). Heisenberg followed their steps at a safe distance, but he was never too far from them. Understandably, Ethan was moved into a smaller home: a humble bungalow in a quiet German village. Once the BSAA had left Ethan in peace with Rose, it didn’t take long before Heisenberg settled into the bungalow with them.
Ethan had insisted that if Heisenberg was going to stay there with him and Rose, then he’d need to learn to help take care of the baby. At first, he was extremely hesitant to do something akin to a parental figure… But, Rose was a surprisingly sweet baby. She didn’t fuss too much and rarely threw a tantrum over the little things. Rose was the right amount of responsibility for Heisenberg, and that made him a patient parent.
He’d been taught how to properly hold her (after many lectures), how to prepare her formula and change her. Rose was understandably unhappy with Heisenberg’s presence at first, perhaps longing for her mother that was no longer around… But, after a few months, she took to Heisenberg very well.
Because of Karl’s lack of mortality and infertility, he never thought he’d take the figure of a father like this… But, it wasn’t exactly an unwelcome opportunity. He’d even upgraded from sleeping on the couch to Ethan’s bed.
The first night Ethan invited him to bed, Heisenberg could tell from the flustered look on Ethan’s face that it took a lot of courage to ask him to bed. A sexual joke lingered on the tip of Heisenberg’s tongue, but he bit it back in favour of keeping the proposal on the table. Instead, Heisenberg had nodded with a cheeky grin and followed Ethan to bed.
There had been some nights where the loss of Mia hit Ethan harder than he’d liked it to — even after Mia’s work with The Connections was revealed, he had still loved her to a degree. Those nights were the hardest. All Heisenberg could do was hold Ethan in his arms and comfort him with nothing more than his presence.
This invitation into Ethan’s bed was far more intimate than a comforting hug. At first, they stayed a polite distance apart on either side of the bed, with Ethan turned on his side whilst Heisenberg stared up at the dark ceiling. In the darkness, his eyes created shapes that danced across the ceiling and warped before him. Much like the mold that infested him, it was as if it continued to taunt him with its presence. After a moment, Heisenberg finally turned onto his side and glanced at the lump that was Ethan with his back to him. That urge to touch returned to the forefront of Heisenberg’s mind. It was that deep ache in his chest, like a lump of flour stuck in a smooth dough that needed to be coaxed inward.
He reached out but stopped himself before he could touch, trying to plan the best way to move forward with what he wanted. Heisenberg pursed his lips, shuffling his body closer to Ethan’s back until he finally slid his arm over Ethan’s waist. He could feel Ethan’s body freeze and tense up a little, which made Heisenberg’s heart feel like stopping altogether. Had he gone too far?
But after a moment, Ethan relaxed, pressing his chest back into Karl slowly. It was all the permission he needed to slot himself fully against Ethan and quietly seek out his hand. Once Heisenberg found it, he carefully laced their fingers together as he held Ethan like that, tugging him close with his elbow.
No words were spoken in the darkness, but a silent understanding of what they both wanted. Heisenberg finally felt complete like this, closing his eyes and exhaling tiredly. His body suddenly felt tired, releasing all the tension it had been holding trying to psyche himself up to do it.
A feeling of affection swelled in Heisenberg’s chest as he held Ethan, finally giving in to the darkness and drifting away with their bond now stronger than ever.
“Are you fucking insane, Ethan?!”
Chris Redfield. A thorn in Heisenberg’s side, but not as bad as Miranda. His voice filling their home put Heisenberg on edge, but it didn’t really matter too much to him. It was around ten in the morning, and the couple had just had breakfast. The television was on, playing some cartoons in the background as Rose was sitting on the soft carpet of the living area with her toys, and Heisenberg sat close to her.
When Chris made an unexpected visit, and he spotted Heisenberg in the living room, the yelling began. Ethan had kept Chris just outside of the room so that Rose didn’t see her father getting angry, and Heisenberg made sure to keep her attention on her toys. Heisenberg was wearing a pair of tartan boxers, along with a button-up pyjama shirt with a white tank top beneath it. It wasn’t exactly the pinnacle of bedtime fashion, but it made him comfortable enough at night.
When the yelling only got worse and Rose seemed irritated by the noise, Heisenberg carefully brought Rose into his lap and crossed his legs.
“Hmm,” He hummed in feigned thoughtfulness, “Does ol’ Karl need to perform for little Rose again?” Heisenberg sighed dramatically, “Oh, the things I do for you.”
He turned his body subtly to the kitchen area, holding his hand out and focusing on one of the drawers. It slid open, a few tablespoons floating out from a cutlery tray. Heisenberg pulled his hand back, the spoons floating across to the living area and bringing them to a stop in front of him and Rose. With a simple, slow roll of his wrist, the spoons began to twirl and move in a circular motion above Rose.
Her eyes widened with fascination, the corners of her mouth opening into a gleeful smile. Absently, she reached up with her soft, pink hands and tried to reach for the spoons half-heartedly as they continued their motions. A soft laugh bubbled from her, causing Karl to smile softly.
“He’s a dangerous bioweapon, Ethan. He could hurt Rose!”
Heisenberg managed to hone in on those words; a sharp pain digging into his chest when he realised the implications Chris was trying to make. That Heisenberg was a monster. A bioweapon without feeling. A creature that would kill a child.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ethan pointing wordlessly at the soft scene of Heisenberg with Rose in his lap, entertaining her with spoons. That was all he needed to say, really — without even saying it. Even Chris was at a loss for words, and he quietly relented. Ethan was surely in for an afternoon of lectures.
It made Heisenberg smile a little more, turning his head subtly towards Ethan and catching his gaze. It was his quiet way of saying thank you. It went beyond thanking Ethan for trusting him with Rose but thanking Ethan for listening to Heisenberg, taking him into his home and loving him. Even though they’d never spoken those three little words out loud, maybe they didn’t need to. Their actions, affections and closeness spoke those words loud enough.
Truly, after all this time, Heisenberg didn’t think he was capable of ever being loved or trusted. Now that he’d left that horrible life behind, he was now a father, a friend and possibly a lover. The trauma would always remain, yes, like the cadou and the mutations. That didn’t mean he couldn’t be happy like this, in this simple little life he’d started to build with Ethan.
Maybe it would be okay.
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yea fine im joining the clown car.
@paperbeliefs-carloabay this is all your fault. take responsibility for the multichapter practice kissing fic i've written now.
Who Kissed Dupain Cheng?
Everybody once again turned to Marinette. Adrien looked at her curiously – sincerely hoping that he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t been kissed yet.
“Um,” she said, and she looked perfectly adorable. “I kissed a friend of mine from outside of school.”
There was a silence.
“Who?” demanded Alya.
“Wait, you don’t know either?” asked Adrien.
Marinette was blushing till the ends of her hair. “It was outside of school! And not important.”
Not important. Adrien wondered who Marinette could have kissed that was not important.
inspired by @anika-thestollsister's incorrect quote, found HERE. EXTREMELY inspired by @theluckiestlb's How could it end up like this (thats where the practice kissing is going to come in).
read it on ao3.
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PART I -- AFTER THE BLIP
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!reader
Plot: Weeks after everyone was snapped back, Bucky finds himself pardoned and visiting weekly with a therapist named Doctor Raynor in order to keep his freedom. However, things don’t come easily, especially when he is now expected to reform his relationship with those who have been hurt by him.
Word Count: 5.4K
Warnings: Mentions of past trauma, flashbacks, and a brief panic attack
According to the files the American government had on him, Bucky Barnes, formerly known as the Winter Soldier, had murdered over two dozen civilians. This, of course, was a rough estimate; just like most of the knowledge that is known about the infamous Hydra group. It was nothing more than a throw in the dark at what he did, at what he had been through, because they, for some reason, had to know. They didn’t care about the details, though. The electric currents running through his body, the robotic words, the loss of his humanity—no, none of this mattered.
As long as they could point a finger at someone for this atrocity, the specifics didn’t matter.
It was trivial to them. The happenings of Hydra and the death they had caused, it was all in the past now. The blip had taken away five years of most government officials’ precious lives, and they had more important things to catch up on than the old story that was the Winter Soldier.
So, they had pardoned him.
It was rushed. A small court summons full of military and government officials that Bucky paid no mind to. They hardly even bothered to learn his name (“The Winter Solidi—James, James Buchanan Barnes, I mean”), so why should he remember theirs? Besides, if he was lucky, he’d never have to see their faces again.
The action of being pardoned—forgiven, as the definition states— was, for lack of a better term, bullshit, Bucky felt. During the trial, they declared that due to lack of sanity, he could not be held fully responsible for his crimes. That the torture he had undergone made him forgetful, emotionless, unable to control his own body and mind. He could not even remember his own government name, so how could he remember these misdeeds?
It was…laughable. If they had even bothered talking to him, they might think differently. They might have just thrown him into cuffs and locked him up like they had before. But they didn’t ask, and Bucky didn’t tell them.
Instead of solitary confinement, Bucky was given only one punishment: mandatory therapist visits with a woman named Doctor Christina Raynor until further notice. Until further notice, the judge had said. What they meant was until he got better, until he regained some sort of recognition of the man he was before.
They seemed confident, too, so assured that this would work. That the infamous Winter Soldier would be no more with the assistance of a shrink and some well-spoken words of encouragement. Again, laughable.
However, though Bucky would never admit this to anyone, they were partially correct. This persona that had been forced onto him could dissipate with time and work. His time in Wakanda had shown him that. But the memories and faces and blood on his hands, that was forever. No amount of mental or physical work could fix the nightmares he had of them, even at the hands of a professional.
Yet, he attended the weekly meetings.
Sure, they were required. Still didn’t mean he had to acknowledge them, let alone go. If he wanted to, he could just fly under the radar, maybe go back to Wakanda until he could come up with another solution. Or so that’s what he told himself during the hour long walk it took him to get to Doctor Raynor’s office.
He had the option to leave at any time, despite what the pardon specifically stated. Of course, it wasn’t legal, and would probably get him arrested, but the comfort of the alternative made the appointments tolerable. If it went bad, if she pushed too hard, he could just get up and leave. Yeah, that’s what Bucky convinced himself.
Surprisingly, the sessions weren’t all that bad. Doctor Raynor was pushy and had a bit of an attitude, of course, but she filled up the minutes when Bucky didn’t have anything to say—or rather didn’t want to say. She was average height, smaller than him, and had lips that pressed into a thin line when she was deep in thought, usually about his replies—or lack thereof. Bucky suspected she was at least forty. She had deep smile lines and permanent wrinkles on her forehead from years of engrossment. Some might consider her old, but he didn’t. If anything, he was the old man here.
And she made sure he knew that.
Not on purpose, or at least not in the way she meant for the statements to come across. It was just casual replies regarding his earlier life; his childhood, Cap, and of course, the war. At first it was easy questions. What was the music like back then? What foods did you eat at lunch? What sort of games did you play as a child? Bucky guessed she was starting out with simple questions to not only ease him into the whole therapy thing, but to also gauge at how much he actually remembered.
He answered the questions with short replies. Jazz. Whatever was available. Chess.
She seemed surprised at the answer of chess.
Nevertheless, the barrage of questions became nonstop once she noticed him actually opening up to it. Actually, during the entirety of the first session, all they talked about was his life before the war. Before the fall from the train. Before Hydra. Before the blip. It was all inquiring that had nothing to do with the terms of the pardon. Nothing about his time under mind control or really anything about what had ended him up in therapy in the first place.
Bucky didn’t expect it to last long, and he was correct.
By the time the second session rolled around, she was already pressing deeper and deeper into a void that Bucky wished she would just leave alone. This was expected, yeah, but there was still some part of him that hoped this would just be an hour of casual conversation between two people who weren’t strangers nor friends.
He didn’t care if she knew the simple things. What books he read or what the weather was like in Brooklyn all those years ago. No, that didn’t bother him at all. It was when she began to ask more personal questions that he began close up.
Just like with the first session, she started slow. Questions about Hydra. Things that even the general public knew. He knew that she already knew the answer to the questions, she was just seeing if he knew, or rather if he’d be willing to talk with her about it.
And he was willing to, albeit reluctantly.
Eventually, the replies became longer. It wasn’t that he wanted to. The questions posed just required more and more detail as they progressed. Soon, it no longer concerned Hydra, but rather his personal life, specifically now that the population had returned from the five-year long blip.
Like with most things nowadays, Bucky wasn’t too sure what his answers were. He didn’t know if they were logical, because, hell, sometimes he doesn’t even know what he ate this morning, let alone how his relationship with Sam was now that he was just about the only person he had left from before.
The only person left from before. Doctor Raynor seemed really interested in that.
“Well, have you tried meeting new people? Getting out and seeing the sights?” She had asked, pen positioned just above that darned notebook she had with her every session. Every time she scribbled something down, Bucky wanted to grab the notepad and throw it out the nearest window.
He had given out a long sigh, purposefully prolonging it to give him more time to think. More time to make up an answer that would satisfy her, so she’d stop asking. ”Of course, Doc. Nothing like the smell of gas fumes to wake a guy up.”
She knew he was lying almost immediately, and he hated that.
It was like no matter how hard he tried to be convincing, to show her that he was fine, she always saw in between the cracks of the wall he had built around himself. Every. Single. Time.
By the fourth session, she proposed a new plan. Something that would motivate him to get moving and to start living the great life that has been so graciously given when the government had pardoned him.
“Three rules,” She stated, eyeing the familiar notebook in Bucky’s hand. It was Cap’s. One of the only physical things he had left of his best friend, well, besides the shield, of course, but that wasn’t his. Nor did he want it to be. “Nothing illegal, nobody gets hurt, and, most importantly, make sure they know James Buchanan Barnes is no longer the Winter Soldier.”
He had flinched when she called him James.
If she noticed, she didn’t remark on it. Bucky was fine with that. Actually, he was fine when she didn’t comment on anything about him. But unfortunately, that was her job, and she did it with frustrating accuracy.
Along with the rules, she had asked him to bring something to write on to the session. He had probably spent too much time pouring over the thoughts of what he’d bring with him. Does he go out and buy one? Should he ask her for one? It wasn’t like he owned much, let alone something like that. Reminded him too much of the past. However, he settled on something that had already done the job for one person.
It had been sitting on top of his fridge for a while. A place where he knew it was safe, but also where he couldn’t directly see it unless he tried to.
The notebook was small. So small and seemingly unimportant that Bucky was actually surprised it had come this far without disappearing like so many things had. It had a somewhat worn-down red cover and a black bind that held its mostly blank pages together.
He held it for what seemed like hours.
The floor of his kitchen was cold. It seeped through the material of his jeans and deep into his body. He didn’t mind, honestly, he didn’t really acknowledge it at all. Every part of him was so fully engaged with the significance of the notebook that someone could break in, and he wouldn’t even notice.
Time passed by quickly during that time. Soon, the light of day seeped through his closed curtains and painted the room in dim light. Bucky was still sat in the same spot, eyes locked on the handwriting, the words that Cap had written. Captain America. Steve Rogers. Bucky’s best friend. The one who had pulled him out of the trance Hydra had put him into and showed him that he was still human after all.
This was Steve’s. The notebook, the pages, the goals. It was all his.
And now that he was gone, it was Bucky’s.
However, the purpose of it stayed the same.
At first, he almost laughed at the option Doctor Raynor had presented him with.
“It’s all about making amendments,” she had told Bucky. “Track them down and turn them in, as long as you stick with the rules I’ve presented you with.”
Bucky had run them over in his mind for the fourth time that session. Don’t hurt anyone, don’t do anything illegal, and tell them that the Winter Soldier no longer exists. Making amendments with the bad guys. The ones who had caused him to not only murder other people, but to also murder parts of himself that he would never get back. He supposed this was the only legal way to get back at what they did, what they had made him do. A punishment for the crimes they had committed.
But what about the ones he had? They had died at his hands, mind control or not. Every last breath was snatched from them because of him, and though it had been by the commandments of other people, Bucky still couldn’t help but feeling the weight of what had happened.
It was slowly suffocating him, and it seemed that his government sanctioned shrink could tell.
Although it had been stated numerous times already, she spoke the words that Bucky stopped paying attention to long ago. “It wasn’t your fault, Bucky.”
Wasn’t his fault? Then why did their faces haunt his dreams? “I know.” Still did it, though.
There went the forehead lines again. She could see right through him.
By the end of it, they had agreed that Bucky would write down the names of those who had been either affected by his past, or those who had been the direct cause of the trauma he had endured. He had to…properly deal with it, as Doctor Raynor put it.
Bucky thought he had been properly dealing with it, but apparently not up to her standards. Stupid. Now he had to list out every name that he would rather not see ever again.
And that’s where he found himself, taking the long walk back to the apartment building all while wracking his brain, searching for the many names that he now had to write down in order to reform his relationships with them.
His mind was reeling at one hundred miles per hour.
When…when did it get so hot? His shirt felt too small. It was like it had suddenly shrunk up so tight against his skin that he could now feel every subtle shift of the fabric as he walked.
His stomach began to churn. Did he eat something bad? He couldn’t even remember what he had for breakfast. Surely he ate today, right?
The ground felt like it was shifting beneath his feet. This. This was normal, Bucky assured himself.
He had to look up. Had to stop. The letters placed so familiarly by each other, it made him want to hurl.
Why did he have to do this? The therapy, the required visits, surely that was enough in itself to keep his pardon and his freedom. Maybe he could just make up an excuse. Tell Doctor Raynor that he got caught up, forgot to do it, left the notebook at home. Hell, lost it on his walk back to the apartment.
Yeah, that would work. He could just store the notebook where it had been for the past few weeks and forget about the names altogether. She would have to pull them from his brain with force before he would willingly do this. He…He wasn’t ready. Not yet. It’s been years, but it still felt as fresh as it had before.
Thankfully, he wasn’t stuck with his thoughts for much longer. Turning around the corner of the block, the brick building he had been calling home came into his line of sight. He felt his shoulders loosen up just the slightest.
But he realized from here, he couldn’t see the entrance doors. For a moment, confusion clouded his brain, until he finally pieced it together.
A truck. Mostly white, except for a bright orange stripe and bold, black letters that stated U HAUL.
It was a moving truck, in front of his building. Someone was moving in. Someone new, unfamiliar. Great, just what he needed today. Another face to get used to. He still had trouble assuring himself that the current residents were no threat to him.
He neared much more slowly than before. The sleeves of his grey shirt felt stiff against his arms, namely his left one. With a gloved hand, he mindlessly tugged at the fabric, feeling the hard vibranium underneath his sleeve.
Now Bucky was on the same side of the street as the building. The sidewalk no longer shifted as violently as before under his feet, yet he still kept glancing down at it to make sure it wasn’t moving. Voices traveled through the air the closer he got. Multiple, a few men, and then a distinct female voice that sounded quite worried.
Currently, they weren’t blocking the doors. One man who had on a black jacket was pointing towards a brown recliner, staring at the woman who currently looked like Bucky felt. Exasperated. Tired. Maybe a little angry. Bucky didn’t care at the moment. As long as he could slip past them and into the building, he was fine. Social interaction, especially with someone new, wasn’t what he wanted right now. He couldn’t handle it. Not after writing those names.
He remembered when he had first moved back to Brooklyn. Everything was so new and scary. The technology, the slang, nothing was like it had been when he was Sergeant James Barnes. It was all so loud now. Even when he was in the military, the ruckus then could not even compare to the amount of noise that burdened his daily life. Speeding cars, beeping at anything that even slightly irritated them, and the people. My god, the people. They were all so complex and so vastly different from what he was used to that it gave him a headache.
It seemed that society changed even more than he had.
The real challenge, however, was not acclimating to his new surroundings. It was the damn access card that he had to take with him everywhere if he wished to get back into the building.
On the white plastic was a picture of him, pre haircut. It was blurry, causing some parts of his face to morph together. Sometimes, if he stared at it long enough, he could no longer convince himself that it was truly him in the picture. He wished he could just cut it off, or maybe just cover it up with a stupid sticker. But the security guard that sometimes happened to be doing his job was required to look at it, inspect it compared to how Bucky looked now, and then return it with a bored look. Surely the security guard recognized him by now, but no. He still had to grab it and stare at it for an uncomfortably long time before handing it back.
Though, thankfully, the dispute between the woman and the workers continued, Bucky found himself stuck in front of the entrance doors, his gloved hand shoved in the pocket of his jeans. His fingers pinched around the card and pulled it out. He didn’t glance at the picture, instead, he shoved it up to the data pad that sat directly to the right of the door. A high-pitched beep sounded once, then again, indicating that the door was still locked. Bucky’s jaw clenched and he tried again. Two beeps. He wanted to slam a fist into the data pad.
He sucked in a breath, more for distraction than actual respiration, and tried again. The card slid slowly over the electrical device. Finally, it beeped once and a clicking sound reverberated.
Bucky quickly opened the door and slid inside the air-conditioned building.
There weren’t many places he felt fully safe anymore. His time under Hydra’s influences had corrupted nearly every part of his existence, no matter how small. Every time he slept, talked, or looked in the mirror, he was constantly reminded of what he had been through and what had happened during those many years. It didn’t matter if the words no longer held the same affect or if they were all dead—he was still being tortured daily by hands that hadn’t touched him in years.
Bucky supposed he was used to it by now. The constant edge, like someone was going to pop out and repeat his trauma all over again. It became a dull ache in the back of his mind. Something he rarely noticed in full light. But every so often, it was abruptly triggered.
He had learned to recognize these set offs. Circular pacing, particularly around him. The sound of a pen or pencil on paper. Pressure to his head. By discerning these, he could either avoid them or learn how to prevent a reaction before it happened. However, there always seemed to be some new triggers simmering just beneath the surface in places where he could not see.
While he knew hearing certain names initiated harsh reactions, he did not realize that seeing them on paper would bring a similar response. It seems almost overtly obvious that they would, but he hadn’t been exposed to it before. He didn’t know, and so there was no way to prevent the thrashing of his heart against his rib cage, or the disorientation that overtook him as soon as he closed the door to his two-room apartment.
There were ways for him to cope with these things. A hot shower, a walk, or whatever Doctor Raynor had suggested. But it all flew out of his head the minute the sensations started.
It started gradual, like the questions in therapy.
The feeling of restraints around his lower arm. Hard, like metal, like his arm. They dug into his flesh, and he swore he could already feel the bruises forming. The pressure spread, moving to the middle of his upper arms. It was the same sensation as on the lower, but this time it felt hard to move. It was like he was being strapped against something. He couldn’t shift or breathe or function.
Bucky didn’t know where he was. The smell of mildew and burning flesh attacked his nose until he couldn’t take in a breath anymore. Something was covering his nose. He couldn’t breathe. Everything was so overbearing and constant and loud. There was a guttural sound in the distance. It was raw, like a caged animal screaming its last words because it knew death was coming.
A coldness spread along his body. Bucky thought it might be ice. It was cold and wet as if he was laying atop frozen water.
He felt his body gradually return. His muscles were burning and sore as if he had been running for hours and just now stopped to take a break.
It was only now that he realized how hard he had been squeezing his eyes shut. There were bright bursts of white clouding his vision among the inky blackness. Even after he peeled his eyes open, the stars remained in his line of sight for minutes. His throat was abraded, swollen, and inflamed by what he guessed was his own doings. Is that what he had heard? His own cries? He wasn’t sure, nor did he spend much time considering it.
The wetness, he realized, was because he was laying in a pool of his own sweat. Somehow during it all, he had ended up curled up on the floor with his hands pressed against his head, as if imitating the pressure that he experienced every time Hydra felt that he needed another reminder of who he was—or who they wanted him to be.
This—the flashbacks and panic—was something he had gone a whole two weeks without. Partially, he felt, it was due to the appointments with Doctor Raynor. She gave him ways to avoid this, and to deal with it when it happened. She made it so they didn’t happen so frequently. However, there was no way she could permanently stall them, at least not now. Not while everything still felt so fresh.
His whole body felt stiff as he tried to stand. The muscles and tendons of his limbs cried out in pain as he shifted from a position he had probably been in for minutes. Or hours. He didn’t know. There wasn’t a clock in his apartment. He should probably get one.
An hour later, Bucky was stepping out of the shower. The bathroom was full of hot fog that clouded up the mirror that sat on the wall above the sink. He smeared it around with his hand just enough to get a blurry glimpse at the exhausted state of his face.
Heavy, dark bags sat under dull blue eyes. The spark that had resided in them was long gone; it left with Sergeant James Barnes and the 1940’s. Now, all that looked back at him was a hollow shell of what he used to be.
Maybe it was salvageable. The Winter Solider was gone. Bucky Barnes could return back in full force with a flashing smile and equally intoxicating ocean eyes. He almost cracked a smile at that.
Besides a couple of dark colored shirts and jeans, Bucky didn’t really have many clothing options. He honestly had more variety in underwear than he did in any other type of fabric. So, he snatched a pair of tan boxers and headed to the somewhat comfy blanket that laid across the hardwood floor in his living space.
It wasn’t that he didn’t have a bedroom. He did. And it was inhabited by a king bed.
But he just. He couldn’t sleep on it.
Of course, he tried. Many times. Many nights that ended up either sleepless or full of haunting nightmares that left him shaky the rest of the day. So, he just ended up settling on the floor.
He took the dark grey comforter from the bed and laid it across the floor, acting as a cushion between him and the hard flooring. However, that’s all he took from the bed. Not the fluffy pillows that decorated it or the under sheet. Instead, he settled on one of the pillows from the recliner in his apartment and a thin, Dijon yellow colored blanket that he had been gifted from Doctor Raynor during his third visit after he mentioned that he didn’t really own any small comforts.
That was all he needed.
Even before everything, he was never the one to fall into a peaceful sleep. It took, maybe, thirty minutes post military to even relax enough to sleep. Now, that was intensely multiplied.
He actually stopped timing his sleep schedule because it made it worse, but Bucky estimated it took probably two hours to be able to close his eyes for more than five minutes at a time. After that, he wasn’t sure how much time passed. All he knew was that the sun started to peak into his window long before he fell into a restless sleep most nights.
Tonight, was no different. The episode of panic had made his physical body exhausted, but his mind just kept wandering endlessly. It went from his sessions with Doctor Raynor to his time in the military to the last moments he had shared with the Avengers, and then it looped back endlessly until he was almost dizzy from the whiplash.
The memories weren’t particularly happy, even though they should be. His sessions of therapy had improved his mental health drastically, even if it made him tremendously uncomfortable most times. The time in the military provided him with relieving memories of a before. Of a time when, despite the challenges, he was truly happy and himself. It was blurry from time, but he still looked upon them with a sort of bittersweet cheerfulness. Then came the Avengers. He didn’t know what to make of those times, nor did he want to think too much on them. They carried too much pain, too much sorrow for him to even entertain a moment’s thought about them.
Just when he thought his mind could race no further, the banging started.
It was a dull thud. Continuous, soft, like someone was repeatedly dropping something dense.
At first, it didn’t bother him. It reminded him of the clock in Doctor Raynor’s office. The repetitive ticking as the seconds passed by while he was either in the waiting room or actually in her workroom. It was kind of calming, comparable to counting sheep.
Then a loud THUNK sounded out.
If it just happened once, he wouldn’t pay it much mind. Just some young adult screwing around during the odd vibrance night seemed to bring. But it kept happening. Once, twice, three times, and then on the fourth, Bucky sat up.
He listened attentively for a moment, the soft texture of the blanket rubbing against his abdomen. The sounds of frustrated drivers honking periodically beeped in the distance, but really nothing else. Probably for about three minutes? But just when he was confident it wasn’t going to happen again, it did. Rather abruptly.
That’s it. Maybe he just needed an excuse to get up, he didn’t fully know. But he was going to go check it out.
This felt too miniscule to require a full thought-out outfit. Plus, he was too tired to dress himself just to pull it all off sometime soon. He snatched a navy-blue robe from the hooks by the door and pulled it over himself, tying the belt of it tightly so that it wouldn’t fly open.
Then he was outside of his apartment. The air was noticeably colder in the hall. He wondered what the electricity bill was like for the tenant for them to keep the temperature so chilly.
The short, maroon carpet of the hallway felt surprisingly rough beneath his feet. He momentarily considered going back in for shoes but decided against it when the familiar sound rang out through the hall. Whatever, whoever it was, they had to be somewhat close for him to hear it so clearly. It sounded like it came from the stairway that was about halfway down the hall, only a few meters away from where he currently stood.
His eyes stung slightly as he walked, the breeze from his pace allowing the cold air to seep directly onto his face. He blinked away the tears that raised in them as he neared the stairs that led to the lobby area.
There was approximately thirteen stairs from his floor to the main space of the apartment building, and Bucky only had to walk down eight of them before he saw exactly who and what was causing all the noise.
It was a woman he didn’t recognize—or at least from the view of her hunched over position. She was currently bent over the back of a brown recliner, trying to grab at the sides of it in order to move it up the stairs. Or so Bucky guessed. He wasn’t sure why else half of it would be over the first stair while the rest of it rested atop the tile flooring.
He didn’t know if he should speak. It felt awkward to just stare at the situation that was currently unfolding, but he was at a loss of words for what exactly to say. The original plan wasn’t to help whatever was making the loud noise, however seeing this person struggling so badly tugged at the soft side of Bucky.
In the end, he didn’t need to call out for her attention. Her head raised; eyes shut tightly in exasperation.
Bucky realized suddenly that he recognized the chair. It was the same one from earlier, the one that the worker and woman were arguing about. However, this wasn’t the same woman, he was sure of it. The one from before looked older than the woman in front of him. Her skin was wrought from age, while this person was glowing despite the obvious stress caused by the heavy recliner.
There was…something familiar about her. It was on the tip of his tongue, just enough that he could tell it was there, but not fully identified it. Maybe it was the way her hair framed her face or the oddly familiar shape of her nose. There was something that he recognized, and his tired mind buzzed with it.
Then, just as her eyes met his, it clicked.
Authors Note: I hope you guys enjoy this !! It is going to be written from Bucky’s perspective. I also decided to skip the second person and to just refer to the reader with she/her pronouns. Please let me know if you see any typos !!
Thanks for reading ~
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