#I need to replay this game cause this man have me in a choke hold 🤤

[keiamor]

No one asked for this but—

Getting high with Yang is a whole new experience, even the busiest mafia boss needs a break or two when it comes to fighting his rival gangs. There are times where Yang uses alcohol to eases or perhaps numbs his emotions before making a decision... or rather escalate them just to feel the thrill of danger and blood dripping from his fingers, it was only a couple of days ago when you finally had the chance to ask him — why. Yang have always been a difficult book to read and silent moments like this makes it even harder to read beneath the lines, whether he is mad or amused, perhaps a bit of both.

"Why, a plan without risks nor disadvantages is boring."

Yang knows he is powerful, compare to those fools who only knew how to wield a gun without the qualities of what makes a good fight. Anyone can use a gun but who can truly use a Shuang Gou the way he can, not many. Despite the worrying looks and silence you’ve been offering, Yang couldn't help but to offer a sigh in return. "Stop giving me those eyes, you're goin' make me want to have my ways with you." He can see the way your cheeks glow from just simple comments, a reaction that he is quite fond of no doubt.

Whilst there are other times where Yang choose to smoke a combination which gives him a high much like this one, it's not often that he takes a long draft of those intoxicating smoke, let alone in front of you. The combination from his homeland is quite expensive after all, especially if it is high quality. Why would Yang risk ruining his own body with the drugs he provides when he can have something risk free for double the price?

With a leg over the other and an arm tugged neatly underneath, your curious gaze falls onto Yang who has a pipe sitting between his fingers elegantly but it doesn't go unnoticed. "Curious?" He asked in his usual sing song tone, eyes thinning as they observes your reaction. "It smells... different to the usual tobacco you have..." That much you know but there's something different about this, something stronger and heavier. "That's because it is different!" Lan chimes in with a knowing chuckle, "A special kind that gives you a high without... y'know the crazy side effects like Red Camellia." Fei added with a slight shrug, "They're very expensive too, I'm surprised Yang even took it out of the box." The small girl added with her brows frowning slightly, that along was enough for you wanting to question Yang further.

“Enough, leave us.” Disappointment was clear as day as the twins turned in their heels, letting out a union sigh as they grumbled whilst making their way outside. You promised you’d visit the market with Lan and Fei today after all, that’s why you are here, to ask Yang for permission. “I—“

As soon as those golden eyes met yours, a shiver instinctively creeped its way towards your core. Cheeks flushed, it was too late to look away. “Come, don’t make me repeat myself.” Yang’s voice sounded as alluring as the first time you met him, on that very roof top. You know better by now than to push his buttons unprovoked, every steps towards him felt heavier than the last until you were finally close enough to feel his warmth and for him to pull you into his lap without warning as per usual.

“Open” It was only natural for you to look as confused as you feel, leaning subtly against his touch whilst you wonder what Yang meant and so far there’s only one thing you can think of. As your open lips parted slowly, the smile that slowly spread across his lips whilst he leans back into the chair was enough to make your heart pound, “Good girl.” The way Yang’s voice rumbled through his chest was unforgettable. Suddenly, you begin to doubt if this was another one of his tricks or test your loyalty to him as your jaw begins to ache. “Yang I—“

Before you knew it, those familiar soft lips had locked themselves onto yours. The bitter taste of whatever herbs within his pipe lingered as he toyed with you, tip of Yang’s tongue brushed ever so forcefully and then soften against your tongue. Forcing you to inhale the smoke he had taken purposefully just before kissing you, Yang could never get enough of the way you struggle helplessly against his hold as your mouth moulding into his own.

A string of silver attached between the two of you when the crimson haired finally drew back, coughs from that body of yours echoed across the room. It was only natural, it takes time to get used to intoxicating things like this. “What you think?” There’s a hint of mockery in his tone, matching the smirk that lingers across those delicate features. Of course Yang wasn’t expecting you to take enjoyment in this, he expected you to kick and shove him away whilst calling him every name under the sun, explaining how you were only here for something else. Yet none of it happened, that’s when Yang heart squeezed slightly.

Did he go too far?

“Oi you—“ That’s when he spotted your expression, blissful but dizzy. Perhaps this was way too strong for someone as inexperienced as you, the way you wiggles between his lap and clawing at Yang’s chest was enough for him to indulge in this. The panic melts into amusement as those golden eyes observes your actions, “What is it? I can’t hear you.”

“I want more.”

Found this in my draft and thought you’d enjoy this @jozhenji

#piofiore #piofiore: faded memories #piofiore: episode 1926 #piofiore yang #Yang x reader #I need to replay this game cause this man have me in a choke hold 🤤 #tw’weed #tw’smoking #tw’dubcon

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 126: Arranged Marriage

April 16th was an appropriately stormy day.

Harry sat in the window seat, watching the rain batter the glass and cursing arranged marriages, cursing Astoria Greengrass, cursing Draco Malfoy, and cursing himself for falling for his auror partner. Everything about today was awful and he was vindictively glad that it was pouring on their wedding day. He hoped that their umbrella charm failed and Astoria's lovely hair got soaked.

He was trying to find the energy to get up and make some tea when there was frantic pounding on the door. His head snapped up in surprise, heart jumping to his throat but he forced it back down. The knocking continued so he pulled himself up and headed to the front door.

"I'm not in the mood today," he said as he opened it.

"Hi."

Harry stared at the man who was standing before him in white and gold dress robes, his long hair bound in an elaborate braid with gold ribbon woven through. He was gorgeous and it made Harry's brittle heart shatter further.

"I'm getting married today," Draco said.

He swallowed, pain slicing through him like a well placed diffindo. "I know," he rasped.

"You," Draco started, flicking his braid over his shoulder and licking his lower lip, "You're supposed to be there."

"Don't ask that of me," Harry whispered, choking on the words.

"Harry, you're my best friend-"

He shook his head, "I can't, Draco," he begged, hoping he would understand. "I can't."

"Please, I need you-"

"No you don't," he replied, clenching his fist and digging his nails into his palm hard enough to draw blood.

Draco's lower lip protruded and he looked on the verge of tears.

"I'm sorry, Draco," he whispered. "I just can't watch you get married to someone," who isn't me went left unsaid but Harry wondered if the other man could hear it anyway.

"But-" he began again.

He shook his head and stepped back, "Happy wedding day," he murmured, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. "I hope you'll both be happy," he added before closing the door, putting it between him and Draco. Harry turned his back to the door and slid to the floor, staring unseeingly into the dark house and wondering if it would ever seem bright again.

(Read more below the cut)

Draco stood and stared at the door for a long moment, aching with the desire to reach out and open it, to pull Harry into his arms and promise to never leave him. He didn't know why he'd come, Harry not showing up this morning for brunch with the other groomsmen ought to have been enough.

He leaned his forehead against the door and gave himself one minute. One minute to allow the memories, the yearning to rush in. To remember the way Harry had looked last night at his bachelor party, drunk and smiling at him, smiling so wide that his dimples stood out. He remembered how they stayed up after all of the other groomsmen had pulled someone and turned in for the night.

Remembered the way they'd gone back to Draco's hotel room for a game of cards and ended up sprawled out on the floor, side by side, shoulder to shoulder, just talking. Let himself remember how free he'd felt, like he could be anything and Harry would still accept him.

"You're my best friend," Draco had told him.

"I'm in love with you," Harry had replied.

He tried to stop the memory there, tried to keep his brain from replaying the way Harry's face had crumpled, the way his tears had made his vivid green eyes brighter than all the stars in the sky. He tried to forget the way he'd said, "but I'm getting married tomorrow" and the way that had made Harry cry even harder. Draco tried to forget the way that Harry had stood up with a mumbled apology and stumbled from the room.

But mostly, he tried to forget the way that he had chosen not to follow.

One minute. That's all he allowed himself before he stood up and straightened his shoulders. Getting married was what was expected of him, the scene he would cause if he didn't, well, it didn't even bear thinking about. With one last glance at the door, he apparated away to tell Greg that he'd been promoted to best man.

-------------

Astoria looked beautiful. Her white and gold dress robes were radiant and she had pearls woven into her hair. She smiled at him and squeezed his hand when he reached out to receive her. "You look stunning," he murmured.

Her smile widened and she looked so happy that Draco's heart ached.

They approached the altar together and the ceremony started. When it came time for them to be bound by magic, Draco took her left had with his and they pointed their wands at their wrists.

"Ready?" Astoria asked. They'd practiced this, without their wands of course; they'd practiced timing the words right, syncing the words that would bind them together.

He stared at her, at her warm, comfortable brown eyes. He knew if they got married that he'd come home every night to those eyes. She was good and kind, and Draco loved her.

But not the way he loved Harry.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered.

"What?" she asked, her smile slipping a touch.

"I can't," he said, parroting the words Harry had said to him this morning and shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Tor," he breathed, "But I can't do this."

Everyone around them started whispering and Draco's heart beat a little faster. "What?" she repeated.

"You're a dear friend," he said, ignoring the people around them, "but don't you want more for us? Don't you want passion and-"

"Draco," his father hissed, "Get yourself under control."

He released Astoria's hand, "Don't you want a love you've chosen?"

"It's Harry, isn't it?" she asked as a tear slid down her porcelain skin.

The room was positively buzzing now. "I'm sorry," he said again.

She took a breath and stepped toward him, and for a moment, Draco was sure that he was going to be slapped. But then her arms wrapped around him, drawing him into a hug. "You're being brave," she whispered, "and no one is going to thank you for it." She drew back slightly, "but I'm proud of you."

He pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"Go," she said, pulling back and drying her eyes.

Draco nodded, "You should go on the honeymoon," he said because he knew that she'd always wanted to go to Greece. Then he stepped back before anyone could get to him and apparated out of the wedding chamber and straight to Harry's door not even bothering to put up an impervius to stop the rain. "Harry!" he shouted, banging on the door again. "Harry!"

The door flew open, "What are you doing here?" Harry asked, nearly frantic, "You're supposed to be getting married."

He stared at the other man, allowed himself to fully feel everything for the first time. His heart expanded and clunked painfully against his ribs and tears stung the back of his eyes and rain ran down his face, "I couldn't," he managed.

Harry looked stricken, "Merlin, Draco, I am so sorry. I never should have-"

Draco closed the distance between them and kissed Harry.

The other man's body went rigid for a moment before he melted into Draco, clinging to him and letting out a choked sob.

He pulled back, "I'm an idiot."

Harry blinked at him and then nodded miserably, "I'm so sorry-"

"No," he interrupted. "Circe, no. Not for kissing you but because I have spent the past three years in love with you and too stubborn and foolish to do anything about it."

"Draco," Harry breathed, eyes shining again.

"Can you invited me in?" he asked with a laugh. "We're getting soaked."

Harry nodded and pulled the other man inside, Draco was about to say something more but Harry caught him around the waist and pressed him back against the wall, kissing him again, his mouth hot and insistent against Draco's. "I love you," he murmured into the kiss, branding the words against Draco's mouth. Before pressing kisses all over Draco's face, along his cheeks, his nose, his chin, his forehead, and even his eyelids. "I love you," he said again, burying his face in Draco's neck and holding him tight.

"I love you, too," he whispered, carding his fingers through Harry's messy curls and pressing a kiss to Harry's temple.

"This is crazy," Harry muttered into the sensitive skin of Draco's neck. He pulled back and Draco saw that he was grinning at him, "You're absolutely barking. I can't believe you did that. Your parents must be pissed."

"I imagine they are," he replied.

"You imagine they are? As in you don't know that they are?" he asked incredulously.

He huffed, "Like I was going to just stuck around to find out. No thank you. Mummy will need time to talk Father out of disowning me, and Astoria will need time to convince her that this is the right thing."

"Astoria?" he asked, wrinkling his nose.

He nodded, "she's surprisingly good with my parents, definitely one of the perks of marrying her." Draco grinned at him, "The sex had better be good."

"The sex will be fantastic," Harry promised. "So, how long do you think it's going to take your parents to forgive you?"

"A few weeks at least."

Harry brushed the hair off Draco's face, "Let's go somewhere," he said.

"What?"

The other man nodded, "Like on a vacation or something. You're off the next two weeks because you were supposed to go honeymooning and I'm off the next two weeks because I didn't want to deal with an idiot temporary partner and because I was anticipating being a bit heartbroken," he shrugged. "Let's go on vacation."

He laughed, "I'll go anywhere as long as it's with you."

------------------

Day 125: Accidental Bonding | Day 126: Fake Dating

#100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #one year of drarry drabbles #drarry #angst #angst with a happy ending #happy ending #love confessions #runaway groom #Astoria is a queen and you won't convince me otherwise #arranged marriage #auror partners #love

[yinyangswings]

Hanging off the Ledge

Fandom: Assassin's Creed Unity

Characters: Arno Dorian, Reader, Elise de la Serre (mentioned)

Pairing: Arno x femReader

Notes/Warnings: Implied thoughts of suicide, drinking, mention of vomit, used Google translate for my French so forgive me on that

Word count: 3088

Summary: You knew that there would always be trials when you fell in love with Assassin Arno Dorian. Knew that he had demons within him. What you didn't know was that your own demons would rear their heads at a vulnerable moment after an argument with him. Nor did you know that it would be Arno who finds you standing on the ledge of the South Tower of Notre-Dame, staring down at the streets of Paris.

She wandered around the streets of Paris. The moon mingled with the lamp light, the sound of men singing from the bars, dogs barking, a cat hissing from an alleyway.

She didn’t really notice.

“You’re going to get yourself killed if you keep being reckless like this, Arno!”

“For fuck’s sake Elise, I’m not a child!!”

She frowned, wrapping her arms around herself. The argument itself wasn’t a new one. She thought he was being reckless and he, as usual, didn’t appreciate being coddled. And if she was being truthful with herself, this hadn’t been the first time he had called her Elise by mistake. Right after she had died, he would call her that on a nearly daily basis. She had red hair. Elise had red hair. For a man who had been drinking away his sorrows, it hadn’t been a surprise to get the both of them confused. But as a few years had gone by and he had grieved correctly he had stopped. She had thought, naively apparently, that maybe he was beginning to move on. When they had gotten together she had thought that maybe he actually loved her. That, while Elise would always have some part of his heart, which she had expected, she could share with the ghost of his former lover.

But that seemed like it was a lost cause.

He doesn’t love you. He loves Elise. He’ll always love Elise over you. If he could save her by sacrificing you, he’d do it without hesitation.

She felt her eyes begin to burn and she roughly rubbed under them, pointedly ignoring the voice whispering in the back of her mind, but was pushing into her mind like a nail. She slowed when she found herself in front of Notre-Dame, the large building looming in the square. It wasn’t a church anymore. Some cult now ran it. The Cult of Supreme Being, if she remembered correctly. It was dark, signifying no one was likely in there.

Perfect.

She worked the door open and slid into the shadowed building. She remembered being a child and coming here once with her father and brother. It had been a beautiful cathedral, the stained glass glistening down upon the pews, the statues, the soft hymns of the choir.

She had gotten in trouble for staring too long, but she couldn’t help it. It had been a comfort for her.

It was now a shadow of what it once was. A daily reminder of the mistakes of this country. Of the change that had happened.

Just like you. You’re a mistake.

She found herself walking up the stairs in the back, her footsteps echoing despite being as quiet as she could. Several staircases, unlocking some doors, and climbing more stairs later she found herself in one of the towers, staring at the bells.

It was so quiet, only the wind passing through the room seemed to sing its song. She slid her hand across the one bell near her, feeling the chill of bronze soak into her hand. She jumped when her foot kicked something and she looked down to see a small crate of...wine bottles?

“Oh for God’s sake. Really?” She muttered, bending down to look at it more closely. It looked like someone had had the idea that no one would look for wine in an abandoned church.

Well...at least no one who wasn’t an assassin and knew how to pick locks.

She hesitated for a moment before she flipped the bottle over and looked at the label. It wasn’t even a good year. But it would do. She worked the cork out and took a swig, grimacing at the taste. She took another swig.

You’re useless. It’s no wonder your father died hating your existence. Why your brother died hating you.

And another.

You’re a disgrace to the Creed and the Brotherhood.

And another. The wine tasted bitter and she knew that she should stop, but it was helping with the pain, numbing it.

Arno will never love you. He will never see you as anything more than a replacement.

She coughed violently as she choked on the wine, not able to tell if the burn in her eyes was because of that or something else. She sank back, sniffling slightly and coughing at the burn. The voice was relentless.

Usually she could ignore it, plaster on a smile and carry on her day. But now…

Now…

Wouldn’t it be better if you just ended it?

As though to bolster the suggestion a sharp breeze rushed past her, creating a mournful sound through the tower she was in and she looked towards the opening.

And she took a step forward.

--------------

Arno Dorian was not in the greatest of moods as he jumped from roof to roof. The argument was still fresh in his mind. He understood Y/N’s point of view on the whole thing, but he felt that he wasn’t a child that needed to be coddled. He was an assassin, just like her. He hadn’t appreciated her scolding him, but looking back it hadn’t been a critique but more of a worry of hers. And he yelled at her, making her leave their room and the Café. Which was why he was running around Paris like a lunatic in the middle of the night looking for her to apologize. He had considered waiting at the Café but after three hours, he began to grow worried. Even at her angriest, she hadn’t been gone that long.

His desperation was growing in stature when she wasn’t in any of her normal spots that she would go to. He was about to head back and see if she had made it back to the Café when the moon peeked out of the clouds and illuminated Notre-Dame. He spotted a flash of red on the top of the South Tower. He stumbled to a stop, looking up, squinting to get a good look, before hurrying over to the church, making short work of getting to the top.

Sure enough it was Y/N, sitting on the railing of the tower. She glanced over her shoulder, before looking back out towards the city.

“Bonjour Arno.”

“There you are.” He huffed, landing on the roof of the tower, a frown on his face. He took a step and blinked as he kicked a wine bottle, watching it roll away from him.

“...Fancy a drink tonight?”

“Casse-toi. Like you’re any better.” Y/N slurred, taking another swig from another wine bottle, swaying slightly in the wind.

“Y/N, get off the ledge.” Arno said evenly, despite his heart threatening to pound its way out of his chest. “You’ll fall, Cherié.”

She cackled, though there didn’t seem to be any humor in her voice.

“Wouldn’t that be…” She hiccuped. “Wouldn’t that be une tragédie? I’m sure my funeral would have a grand total of...one attendee; moi! They might even bury me, or they’ll just dump my body into the Seine.”

She laughed again though he frowned.

“Y/N.”

She glared at him, before rolling her eyes, and pointedly ignoring him, taking a swig from the bottle in her hand. She was silent, staring at the few people of Paris wandering around, unaware of the two assassins sitting above them.

“Suppose I’d need to avoid some random passerby though, oui? Can’t...can’t hurt an innocent because of the Creed.”

It was as if cold water had been dumped on him.

She couldn’t mean...she wasn’t seriously considering...

“Y/N, get off the ledge.”

It wasn’t a gentle request anymore. She scoffed, standing like a child who was being called home during a riveting game of tag and didn’t want to. She swayed and stumbled on it, drawing closer to the edge.

“And if I do that by jumping off? No stacks of hay down there that I can see.” She asked good naturedly, her voice amazingly calm.

“Y/N, don’t joke like that.”

“Who’s saying I’m joking?” She hummed, twirling in an unsteady circle, swaying backwards. Arno dashed forward, grabbing her arm and yanking her back onto the roof, the bottle falling out of her hand and disappearing over the edge. He could only hope it didn’t hit anyone below as his arms folded around her, holding her close as she began to fight against him.

“Avez-vous perdu la raison?” He snapped. “Why would you even consider killing yourself?!”

“Because the place would be better without me!”

Arno staggered backwards as she kicked at his legs, his mind reeling, trying to catch up with the situation, but unable to comprehend it.

“What are you talking about?! Do you know how devastated we’d be if you died?!”

���Who, Arno? Who would fucking miss me!?” She cried, fighting against him. “My family is gone, Arno! My brother died hating me because of the reason I was even brought into this world! Father hated me because I killed Mother! Name on fucking person who would care if my brains splattered on the steps of Notre-Dame below!”

“Me!”

To that she let out a laugh that could have been a sob.

“You? YOU!?” Her voice went into hysterics. “You don’t give a damn about me! You never did!”

“Y/N, what’s gotten into you!? Of course I-”

“I’M NOT ELISE!”

He went still and he released her in shock. She stumbled away, but didn’t attempt to jump off the ledge again. She seemed to curl into herself, tears sliding down her face as she looked at him.

“You think...you think I’m stupid? Or blind? You don’t think I don’t know that you see Elise every fucking time I fucking turn and you see my hair, or when we spar, or...or argue? You think I’m that blind to not see that ache in your eyes every damn time you even look at me?? For fuck’s sake Arno, you’ve called me her damn name tonight!” She inhaled sharply, trying to stop crying, but failing. His eyes darted from side to side, replaying the argument earlier in his mind, before his eyes widened.

“Y/N, I didn’t-”

“Do you know how much it hurts trying to pretend I’m happy, when I’m reminded daily just how unnecessary and unwanted I am in this world? How much better you and this world would be without me? You want Elise back so much but I’m not Elise. I can’t be her. I can’t even begin to compare to her.” She whimpered. “I’m an assassin, but I was literally only born to be that because my brother was too sickly to be one. And despite that, despite working day in and day out to prove to him I could be a good assassin, I know that my father didn’t even want me! So...so why even bother being here? No one wants me, Arno. I’m just...just this big mistake...I...I…”

“Ma Cherié…” He said, his voice suddenly rough and he hurried over to her, pulling her to him again. She struggled for a moment, beating at his chest to get him to let go. He did not, digging his hand into her hair to keep her still. “Ma Cherié, no.”

“Let go, Arno!”

“No. Not until you listen to me.” He said. “I know I make mistakes. Too many to count. I hurt you so much without even realizing it. And you are the most patient woman to not murder me in my sleep for that.” He trailed off, swallowing noisily, “Oui, there are times I think about Elise, and wonder what life would be if she was still alive, and oui sometimes there are moments where I see her in you.”

She struggled against him again and he thanked the wine running through her right now. At least he could get her to listen to him.

“But that doesn’t mean I’d be better off without you. That I don’t want you here.”

She went still.

“I love you Cherié. I love you so much. You don’t deserve all this pain and weight I’ve put on your shoulders. Especially with Elise. There are similarities between the two of you, but the differences outweigh them. Christ...I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve anything you give me.”

He moved her head away, cupping her face in his hands, brushing away the tears that were sliding down her cheeks.

“I don’t deserve waking up with you curled up to me and if I try to leave the bed, you hold onto me because it’s not yet time to wake up in your mind. I don’t deserve listening to you hum as you’re fixing a stitch in our robes while leaning against me, or your laughter when you’re sparring and you’ve pinned me. I don’t deserve having you scold me for being an idiot on a mission, yet having my back on said mission. I don’t deserve any of that.”

She stared at him and he gave a desperate laugh, his eyes glittering in tears.

“But even though I don’t deserve it, every day you bless me with those tiny memories. How could I be better off without you?”

She inhaled sharply, tears sliding down her cheeks. She let out a soft keening sound, closing her eyes tightly as a sob tore out of her throat, silencing the voice that was begging her to just pivot and jump.

“I can’t Arno...I just...I…I...I don’t know what to do.”

She heard him inhale shakily and felt him kiss her brow. He seemed to be shaking as well. He pulled her back into a hug, and she didn’t resist this time, just sobbing, face pressed into his shoulder.

“...Let’s go home.” His voice whispered into her ear after several minutes, rough as though he was holding back emotions. She nodded weakly, and he lifted her and carried her away. Before she could even object, he was walking down the stairs and past the bells of Notre-Dame.

She didn’t remember how exactly they got back to the Café Theatrë. She did remember having to stop several times in alleyways to puke her guts out from all that damn wine she drank. She remembered that Arno’s touch never seemed to vanish. Whether it was holding her hair away from the vomit, rubbing her back as she heaved, or holding her close to make sure she didn’t fall flat on her face when she stumbled away, he was always touching her.

The last thing she really remembered was going up the stairs to their room, being laid down on the bed and feeling a kiss against her temple. The next thing she knew, the sun was beaming into the room and her head felt like it had been used as a drum.

She let out a groan and curled up under the blanket, trying to rid herself of the headache. Distantly she heard a soft chuckle and then the clink of a cup on the nightstand.

“Can’t say I envy you. I know from experience it isn’t fun. Though this is a change in roles from what I usually remember.” Arno’s voice said softly. She muttered an expletive and peeked her head out from the covers. Arno sat down on the edge of the bed, offering a smile.

“Whatimeizzit?”

“It’s close to noon. I figured with the amount of drinking you did last night, you earned your sleep.”

Y/N groaned, covering her face with the blanket again.

“Come on. Let’s get some food into you. I promise you’ll feel much better.”

“If I ever go towards a wine bottle again, you are free to spank me.” She muttered, finally leaving the cocoon of blankets and Arno smiled.

“Oui m'dame. Granted, while it is a tempting offer, I have a feeling that’s not going to happen anytime soon.” He said and she snorted, instantly regretting it and cursed under her breath. He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead before handing her a pastry.

“Eat.”

She wasn’t really hungry, but nibbled on it anyways, glancing over at him as he watched her. He was just staring at her as though making sure this wasn’t a dream and she was actually sitting in their bed alive and well, despite the hangover. He had dark bags under his eyes, which were curiously bloodshot. He was wearing the same clothes he had been wearing the night before. Almost as if he hadn’t...

“Did you stay up the entire night?” She muttered in surprise, realization dawning slowly in her hungover brain.

“...I wanted to make sure you didn’t try and leave to go back to Notre-Dame.” He finally said and she grimaced, looking away.

"Je suis désolé, Arno. I didn’t-”

“No! No, don’t apologize...just...is that the first time you’ve...that you’ve considered that?”

She shrugged.

“I’ve never gone as far as I did last night...but there’s always that voice in the back of my head saying that everyone would be better off if I wasn’t around...I don’t usually listen to it. But it was just...so loud last night. It drowned everything else out.”

“Y/N…”

She shifted away, embarrassed. He swallowed roughly before cupping her face, brushing a thumb against her cheek bone. She leaned into his touch, finally looking up at him.

“If it does happen again, if that voice becomes too loud?” He asked softly. “Find me. I meant what I said last night. I love you. I don’t deserve you, but I love you. And I’ll spend every day I have remaining telling you that. So find me, and I’ll put to rest any worry you have.”

She nodded, closing her eyes as he kissed her forehead, her cheeks, the tip of her nose, and then very delicately her lips, before resting his forehead against hers.

It wasn’t a clean fix. There were still problems that needed to be discussed. Issues that needed to be talked about. In the future he would have nightmares of wondering what if he hadn’t gone looking for her, if the next day they had found her body at the steps of Notre-Dame, and waking up in a cold sweat to check and see if she was still there next to him, still breathing. For a while after, she couldn’t go near Notre-Dame, couldn’t even take a sip of wine before her stomach revolted at the contents because it reminded her of that night.

But right then and there, it didn’t matter.

She was sitting there breathing, and in his arms.

And that was all Arno Dorian cared about.

--------------

Translations:

Bonjour : Hello

Casse-toi: Fuck off

Cherié: Sweetheart

Une tragédie: A tragedy

Moi: Me

Oui: Yes

Avez-vous perdu la raison: Have you lost your mind?

Ma Cherié: My Sweetheart

Oui m'dame: Yes Ma'am

Je suis désolé: I am sorry

#assassin's creed #assassin's creed unity #arno dorian #arno x reader #tw: suicide attempt #tw: mental health #elise de la serre #reader #jamfics #assassin's creed imagine #assassin's creed headcanon #arno dorian imagine #arno dorian headcanon

[creativeashproductions]

What's a Knife Between Onscreen Family // Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Filming an emotionally wrought scene on the set of your current role as a regular goes very wrong very fast. Expecting the scene to be the most taxing of the day you find yourself in the ER getting a transfusion. It’s all fun and games until someone’s holding a sharp knife incorrectly, guess it’s just something in common with co-star Jared Padalecki.

Warnings: Swearing, blood, fear, injuries, hospital, needles, angst, and fluff

Words: 3.5k (including lyrics)

A/N: I watched a part of a panel from a Supernatural con and found it hilarious that Jensen accidently stabbed Jared. So I had to write that for a Charlie Gillespie fic. Link to the video talking about the stabbing is right below this message.

Jensen Ackles Accidentally Stabbed Jared Padalecki during filming From 1:00-6:00

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Masterlist

It had to be one of the most emotionally taxing scenes in your entire career as an actress on a physically demanding show. The scene had been incredibly mentally draining the daughter of a Winchester. It had been once season recurring, one series regular and now filming the third season. As the teenage Winchester, it threw a wrench in all the plans and the reckless character gave no shits.

“Okay, this is our last scene for the day!” Robert Singer, the director of his episode, called out from off stage. Standing at the top of the stairs in the Bunker, you jumped in close with a scrunched nose at the squishy sound.

Over the railing, both Jared and Jensen nodded their support from the ground level with concerned expressions. Ever since you joined the cast in season 13, they had become fathers to you. The sight of you drenched in stage blood was enough to churn their stomachs.

“I gave you the barebones of the scene so work with it. Briar’s traumatized after fighting for her life and has been gone for a while.” Robert explained, “Cas couldn’t find her. I want this to be a tribute like Dean in season 10 episode 14: The Executioner’s Song.”

Taking a deep breath in your emotions channelled into a hurricane in your chest, clenching your fingers on the knife.

“Action!”

Pacing the floor plan of the Bunker is two brothers bonded by sorrow, pain, sacrifice and love. Each throwing out locations on where Briar could be, Jack and Cas had been little help. Sam’s heart clenched tight bypassing images straight to torture. The kind of torture he had endured over the years.

Dean’s mouth opened to suggest another place when the Bunker door creaked open. The red converse appeared before the soggy jeans as the teen slowly made her way down the steps. Briar Winchester shook like a leaf staring off in the distance as the blood congealed on her face and hands.

“Briar.” Dean slowly spoke, moving towards the girl. His green eyes lit up in fury as the seventeen-year-old flinched back. Dean’s hand gently took the stained knife from the young girl.

“I-I didn’t mean to do it.” The meek voice appeared so unlike the usual confidence Briar talked with. In exhaustion, Briar’s knees collapsed, sending the teen right into Dean’s arms.

The stoic man gripped the youngest Winchester as his waist bearing her weight against his while Sam circled to be behind Dean. The choked sob echoed by another escaped the family huddle; one from Briar and the other from Dean.

“Dad.” Briar choked clenching her arms around the green-eyed adult’s shoulders, craving the safety of her father.

Ever since Dean could remember he had had a strict rule of always practising safe sex, he didn’t want a kid. Not in a world that had it out for Winchesters and not one where he might hold his child’s dead body in his arms. That all changed when Cas delivered Dean to a county jail where Briar was held just for a minor assault charge on a wealthy bully.

Dean never let himself want a future with the picket fence and the dog in the backyard but when Briar changed that. Dean would do anything for his family no matter the cost. Example: Selling his soul for Sam.

“Sh.” Dean spoke kissing the crown of her hair he savoured having his child safe in his arms, “I’ll help you to the bathroom to get cleaned up. We’ll heat some soup and toast.”

On autopilot, Dean helped Briar down the hall to the bathroom where she would freshen up and later burn the unsalvageable clothing. As Dean returned to Sam’s side, Castiel came with a sombre expression and an explanation.

“Dean. Sam.” Cas greeted them, flicking his blue gaze between the two brothers. The faint sound of the shower only picked up by the trained heightened sense of hearing from years of watching over their backs.

“Cas what the hell happened?” Dean demanded, “Why the hell is my little girl bruised and coated in blood?”

END FILMING SCENE

“Cut!” Robert called out to the large room with a big smile on his face, “I’ll watch it back. See if we need more takes.”

Jared and Jensen wiped the tears that fell from their cheeks just thinking on how wrought that scene felt. As fathers seeing a young adult in such a state severely agonized them. The duo jogged to see your back against the cold wall—a pinched expression marring your young face.

“How are you feeling after that?” Jensen asked, coming closer to squeeze your shoulders unfazed by the sticky fake blood. It was already all over his clothes from hugging you in character.

“You shouldn’t be allowed to have sharp objects.” You spoke glancing down at your knee that had been punctured by the knife. The dark jeans soaked in stage blood now concealed the real blood.

 “Jensen, did you really stab another person.” Jared deadpanned his best friend referencing back a few years. Jared shoved one hand through his hair, receiving a nasty glare from the hairstylist on call.

The glare on Jensen’s face blistered the taller actor, “I didn’t stab you. You walked into the knife.”

The two bickered as they guided you back to the main stage where Robert had reached a final verdict. He had watched the replay twice along with his crew finding the raw emotion to be perfect. The little detail the three had added was well played. Dean unexpectedly consoling his daughter in tears; no threats to kill or push her to tell him what happened. The first time Briar referring to Dean as her father. Lastly, Sam’s unsure actions in consoling a young girl sucked into life like he was in his youth.

“We got a one-take winner!” Robert called out sending the entire crowd into loud applause and cheers. Jared taking most of your weight as you hobbled to the costume trailer.

The lovely costume designers helped remove the sticky shirt, jewellery and the red converse that had once been white. Only the jeans remained on your body to not mess with the wound. As much as you’d love to shower the blood off, it was near impossible, moving your knee stung and it was best to avoid aggravating it.

“Someone needs to ban Jensen from knives. Just wait till his wife finds out about this, she adores Y/N.” Martha chuckled from her sketches she designed on her breaks for a future in fashion design. Often in your free time, you would be her guinea pig with her designs using refurbished material.

Normally the banter would continue but not when your leg was bleeding, and Jared was taking you to the ER. To make time faster, Jared had scooped you into his arms to the black car their driver waited in.

“Towels are in place. Sorry, you got hurt, Kid.” Clif spoke, opening the door to the backseat where Jensen sat patiently. Unlike usual, he had seated himself in the front so you could stretch in the back.

A weak chuckle met air in the packed car from the blood loss that wasn’t overly bad but enough that Jared took the towel. His pressure on the wound caused a yelp that had Jensen flinching in guilt.

“The knife must have been sharp to cut a mouse in half,” Clif muttered turning towards the hospital close to set. Coincidently the drive took you passed the set your boyfriend currently filmed at.

“Might as well call me butter.” You retorted wincing at the throbbing pain, “You aren’t allowed any more sharp objects, Mr. Ackles.”

“Danneel already threatened to hide all the knives in the house.” The on-screen father laughed as the tension decreased in the small car. Despite the dizziness, it didn’t hide the guilt in Jensen’s green eyes.

Time flew by as you found yourself in a bed for observation and pictures for the knee. It came as a shock when the doctor requested one blood transfusion for the blood loss. The hope of being in and out had evaporated like water beads on a blistering summer day.

Julie and the Phantoms Set

Charlie adored his life as an actor where he was free to visit places, he might not have had the opportunity to do. He made friends with everyone he spoke to and even met the love of his life as an actor as well.

That being said today had been the longest one with a full schedule and barely time for lunch or snacks. Even a nap was unachievable, and he desperately wanted one for being awake for hours by now.

“Charlie! Did you know you’ve got missed calls?” Jeremy inquired, staring at the phone that went black once more. Charlie’s eyebrows came together at the mention. His family had the rough outline of times he would be unavailable to talk.

Stepping back from the craft table’s supper options, he lifted the phone from the table, bringing it to life. His lock screen showing multiple missed calls and voicemails from you, his family and two unknown numbers.

His jaw dropped further when Meghan called for the first time out of the group, “Megs?”

“Finally! Where have you been?” Meghan demanded pacing in the studio she had been using when she got the call. The pretty and successful young woman had gotten terrified at learning about Y/N.

“Filming? It’s the longest day of filming the show. It’s on the family schedule.” Charlie spoke, settling into one of the empty tables. His eyes watching the people entering and exiting the tent set up for food.

“Jesus. Mom called me when you didn’t pick up. Y/N’s in the hospital.” Meghan revealed sending the Canadian actor into a stiff posture. His hazel eyes blow wide and panic flooding his entire system.

“What?!” Charlie didn’t mean to shout nor turn paler than a piece of white paper, but it happened. The volume contracting looks from everyone in the vicinity. Owen even dropped the donut back in the box by the volume.

“She got stabbed with a knife. I sent the address earlier, and I haven’t gotten a lot of info.” Meghan told her older brother, “I know she’s getting a blood transfusion, but nothing else was released.”

Charlie couldn’t tell you what happened between Meghan telling him and reaching the hospital frantically. Nor could he figure out how Owen was in the back of the Uber with him guiding him through exercises; all thanks to Owen’s therapist for his anxiety.

His sneakers squeaked on the polished white floor in his mission to the receptionist transferring information from a chart to digital. Charlie’s painting brought him attention from the kind nurse acknowledging his presence.

“Just let me finish this one sentence.” The nurse hummed saving the information before turning their full attention to the frazzled male, “How can I help you?”

“What room is Y/N Y/L/N in? She was stabbed and needed a transfusion.” Charlie demanded deflating as Owen placed a hand on his shoulder. The Canadian’s eyes bright with panic and a deep fear

The nurse’s eyes softened, “I can’t give out information on patients unless your immediate family members.”

“I’m here-“

“Husband! He’s her husband, they eloped so she hasn’t changed her last name or updated her information.” Owen blurted out, rubbing the pad of his index finger on the black jeans he had worn for his role. The two hadn’t even bothered changing into their street clothing.

The nurse nodded their head-turning back to the computer to enter the name for the patient for the information. It took seconds before the nurse wrote on the miscellaneous sticky note of the ward and room number.

“My name is Riley. If you need any help, you can come back here, and I’ll do my best to give you answers.” Nurse Riley informed the duo with a kind smile nodding in the direction of your hospital room.

Owen’s long legs ate up the distance Charlie made in his sprint to the stairwell, “Shouldn’t we take the elevator?”

“My girlfriend is in a hospital bed. I can’t wait for an elevator.” Charlie rebuked the suggestion on the second flight. Owen’s sigh was the last sound made as the duo slammed into the door to the floor level.

Charlie and Owen appeared in the doorway of your hospital room panting from the exertion meeting the gaze of two actors. Charlie’s heart stuttered at the sight of the high volume of blood in your clothing and your hair.

The sharp gasp brought your attention to the shaking Canadian actor solely focused on scanning for wounds. His eyes barely staying on the two adult males you had been starring with for a few years. Schedule conflicts often led to no introduction to each other’s co-stars.

“What the hell?” Charlie choked stumbling to the chair beside your hospital bed next to the pole holding a blood bag, “Did you get mugged? Are you okay?”

“Char, take a breath, man.” Owen’s blue eyes shadowed with the worry as Charlie’s breathing shuddered. Owen could barely look at you covered in blood.

“Whoa! Charlie. I’m fine. This is stage blood. We had an intense scene, and there was a minor accident.” Your voice soothed the man gently taking Charlie’s hand to comfort him, “I lost a bit of blood. The doctor decided to give me a blood transfusion to bring my levels back up a bit before stitching it up.”

“How do you get stabbed accidently?” Owen questioned glancing at the two men standing silently in the corner. Due to contracts on the Supernatural set details of scenes and storylines was off-limits.

“Well, during filming, I took a knife from her, and she walked into the blade?” Jensen trailed off, shoving his elbow into Jared’s side at the scoff. It happened every time it was brought up.

“I-“Charlie blinked, shaking his head as he took a deep sigh in pushing that to the back burner to focus solely on you. His hand rubbed his face while he settled on squeezing your one hand in both of his.

The touch of your skin grounding him back to earth with the shattering visions of walking into the world without you. It would be both ways, the second his calloused warm skin brushed your hands; it was like the pain faded. Only a sense of content settled in your weary bones.

“Okay Miss Y/L/N.” Dr. Clancy walked into the room only halting to grab a pair of medical gloves, “I see your entourage grew. I’m Doctor Jim Clancy, and you must be Miss Y/L/N’s husband.”

Three pairs of eyes widened at the doctor’s words aimed towards the brunette actor turning a blushing mess. The words mouthed by Charlie to go with it gave barely any insight, but you did it. The moment you had a free minute with Charlie, you would interrogate him in the new title you had.

“Yeah, my husband.” You spoke flicking an expression to Jensen and Jared that caught on from the years together. They had taken you under their wing on your first day on set, and then you became family with their immediate family.

“I can confirm that my initial observation is that the wound doesn’t have anything that shouldn’t be in there. We stopped the bleeding, the x-ray came clean, we’ll set you up with IV fluid, and tetanus shot to be safe.”

“Nurse Gellar here will cut the rest of the jeans off, get you in a gown for a few hours of observation. Just a precaution for blood transfusions. We’ll have some scrubs you can wear when you can leave.” Dr. Clancy motioned to the tall redhead with a quiet demeanour.

Charlie’s lips lingered on your temple at the fear that flared in your expressive eyes, he would give anything to take your place. He softly sang your couple song as a whimper fell from your lips as the jean tugged the dried blood from the wound. The painful pressure felt as you guessed it had started to bleed again, the feel of liquid rolling down your skin, confirming it.

“I’ll sing anything.” Charlie whispered going through his mental catalogue of songs on your shared playlist, “Oh!”

I’m booking myself a one-way flight

 I gotta see the color in your eyes

 And telling myself I’m gonna be alright

 Without you baby is a waste of time

The tears falling no longer came from the pain but the sheer amount of love you had for the man there. Eyes glittering with pure adoration as his voice came off absolutely heart-melting. So, lost in each other neither of you noticed Owen had been filming from the moment Charlie had said ‘oh’.

Yeah, our first date, girl, the seasons changed

 It got washed away in a summer rain

 You can’t undo a fall like this

 ’Cause love don’t know what distance is

 Yeah, I know it’s crazy

Charlie’s hand slowly slid up your arms to cup your tear-streaked tacky cheeks in his warm grip. The hospital faded as it became just you and Charlie. Completely oblivious at the audience in the room.

“He loves her,” Jensen whispered to Jared out of the camera frame that the blonde-haired kid’s phone. It was such a pure moment it felt disrespectful to see this exchange but also honoured to see it firsthand.

“I’ve only seen the look in your eyes for Danneel,” Jared replied, cupping his hands over his face listening to the near inaudible wet chuckle you gave.

“As I have between you and Gen. They have the real kind of love.” 

But I don’t want “good”, and I don’t want “good enough.”

 I want “can’t sleep, can’t breathe without your love”

 Front porch and one more kiss, it doesn’t make sense to anybody else

“Charlie.” You sobbed at the best part of your life serenading you in such a romantic moment at the odd setting—his hazel gaze greener in what would come to be a very dear memory to reminisce about.

The calloused thumb caressing your cheek wiping a teardrop away he continued to see as the doctor finished suturing the wound. 

Nothing mattered other than the couple currently in a bubble.

Who cares if you’re all I think about,

 I’ve searched the world and I know now,

 It ain’t right if you ain’t lost your mind.

 Yeah, I don’t want easy, I want crazy

 Are you with me baby? Let’s be crazy

Charlie’s voice faded with the rest of the song bringing you back to reality with the nurse cleaning up around the wound. That’s how the rest of the day went on waiting for the blood transfusion and IV fluids to finish. You stuffed the tetanus shot while Charlie sang between different genres.

“Thank you.” You softly spoke with Charlie being the only one left in the room with you.

Owen had headed back to their set to finish a scene while giving the updates on you while Jared and Jensen grabbed food. J2 had been very clear they would get Martha to grab some clothing for when they came back. Jensen was determined to deliver you to your home as the first action to make it up to you.

“For what?” Charlie questioned as your index and thumb picked at the cuticles of the opposite hand. Your eyes were hidden from your boyfriend’s gaze.

“For dropping everything to be here.” The words were quiet in the room only filled with breathing and the heart machine you had to be hooked up to.

“My girl-“

“Don’t you mean wife?” You teased brushing a lock of his hair from his forehead taking in the man you had the honor of loving. Of waking up next to in the apartment, you’d been renting ever since you landed the role on Supernatural; overtime Charlie’s things had just accumulated there.

“It was the only way they’d let me in.” Charlie spoke sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, “It’s a little early to call you, but I’m excited to make you my last girlfriend and then my only wife.”

The chuckle fell from your lips, “So, you want to marry me?”

“In front of all our family and friends. Tucked away from the media to celebrate the love we have for each other.” Charlie spoke, “There’s no one else I’d like by my side for the rest of my life.”

A new flood of tears welled at the sincerity in his voice and the warmth laden in his eyes of kaleidoscope colours. Sometimes, depending on his emotion or his clothing, his eyes would be greener, or when he was happy, they had a blue tinge in the green in sadness or your favourite; brown with the swirls of green.

“How did I get so lucky to have the absolute honour to fall in love with you?” Your words created a swell of emotion in the Canadian’s heart.

“The same way whatever deities there are took pity on a boy from Dieppe by bringing him an angel.” Charlie words preceded the kiss on your lips with a grin as you chased his lips after. With one last peck, he leaned back with a fond expression.

“Seriously how do you get stabbed accidently?” Charlie chortled with that gorgeous smile lighting up the room more than the white lights.

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[wandsandwheezes]

Fake It | Weasley Twins | CH5

one // two // three // four

Warnings | 18+ SMUT, mature themes, fake relationships, secret relationships, love, sex, drama, angst, fluff, cheating, mentions of the war, desc. of torture, pain, drinking, aftercare.

Summary // Fred Weasley has been set up to publicly date Y/N, London’s best Quidditch Seeker in order to drum up some publicity. Y/N however has a different ginger man on her mind; George Weasley.

A/N // flashbacks in italics - Hopefully this chapter gives an insight into why George is so protective over his girl, but also why Y/N is the way she is around him. 

There were two times you'd reserved yourself the ability to let loose and have a break, The first was after a big Game, where being absolutely hungover wasn't a problem the next day, or after a big product launch. Fred and George were two men who liked to party hard. Fred loved getting smashed among friends, participating in drinking games and nearly causing a full on riot - a drink to get drunk kind of man. George on the other hand, took a lot to get drunk, he would be waved most of the night and then sober by the time he was home, The one thing however about your boyfriend was that he got handsy and possessive, something that drove you absolutely crazy for him. 

You'd been clubbing in muggle London with George multiple times, using the night as a distraction from the wizarding word, taking a cab home to either his place or yours - more often than not passing out cuddling each other in impossible positions. It was the best rest George got, he was always confused when he woke up to the sunrise or birds chirping, finding relief in him sleeping through the night. 

George's poor sleeping habits were there before the war, however the looming death and the horrible events he suffered seemed to replay in his mind whenever he neared a state of rest. 

// 

The blast in front of him was unlike anything George had seen before with his own two eyes. Through the rubble and dust he saw you hunched over on the ground, coughing up the debris from your lungs. He was silently thanking whatever god that was out there, if there even was one, that he was here in this moment. He knelt down next to you, hand rubbing circles on your back soothingly.

“Baby, it’s ok, I’m here.” When you heard his voice you flung yourself into his arms, not caring about the state of your lungs as you held him. He was safe. 

“Let’s get you to the great hall, you can’t be running around out here like this.” You shook your head, cupping his cheeks with your hands and pressing a firm kiss to his lips, like it could be the last time you’d ever kiss him. You both ignored the metallic taste of blood and dust coating one another as you committed this moment to memory, If people caught you here, in each other’s arms, why would It matter? Secrecy was the last thought on your mind as you pressed your forehead against his. 

“I need to fight, we need to fight, George.” You were standing up, still holding onto him, you were vulnerable like this, you kissed him once more, he pressed a kiss to your knuckles, “Forever, I promise.” you smiled, pulling him in for another hug. “I love you.” he squeezed you tighter as a response. Before you knew it you were bending down to collect your fallen wand,  running off in opposite directions. 

You were being backed into a corner, slowly but surely. You’d resolved that this was the end. You weren’t sure who you were fighting until they were too close for comfort. Maria Bishop. When her hand touched your arm you were whisked away to another location. Once there you were violently shoved to your knees, winded still by the apparition.

“I always valued the Y/L/N family, you know,” She started, wand pointed at your head, Maria was known by others as ‘The Bishop’ you assumed because she was one of the Dark Lord’s prominent agents, finding and killing muggle-borns and blood-traitors alike, much like the bishop in chess eliminates their enemy. 

“Such a shame you’re not like your mother and father, you would have made a beautiful pureblood wife.” she was laughing as she squatted down in front of you. 

“Where Is Harry Potter?” she asked bitterly. Every inch of your skin was shaking with fear, you had no information, but it’s not like that mattered. “I- I don’t know, none of us have seen him in months.”

She didn’t like that, you didn’t even have time to think or apologise before you heard the word ‘crucio’ fall from her lips with ease. 

The excruciating pain ran through your body, you fell to the ground, writhing as a blood-curdling scream was ripped through your vocal chords. You couldn’t do anything but scream over and over, it felt like your skin was being torn from its muscle and like scraping across all of your bones. She kept demanding, over and over for you to give her information but there was nothing to let out. You couldn’t even picture what Harry looked like, the only thing that ran through your mind was relentless agony. 

You knew you wanted this to be over the minute it started, the pain crept up from your toes to your hips, over your chest and arms until finally it was at your throat. You felt like you were choking, you wanted all of the air to escape your lungs in the hope that the pain would end, but it never did. With every scream she laughed at you, watching as you writhed in pain like it was a comedy, she tried to overpower your shrieks with laughter.  

You suddenly felt all weight lift off of you as the curse faded. Every limb was weak, time was no longer a concept to you, it felt like a lifetime of agony only repressed by a moment of solace, your hand was on your wand and before you could think, you were raising it and muttering the incantation of what you knew you shouldn’t. Her eyes widened, a flash of blinding green light filling her eyes, accompanied by a rushing sound, as if an invisible something was whipping through the air - within an instant she rolled over onto her back, unmistakably dead. The Bishop was down.

//

By 11:30 you were already half gone, If anyone asked, you were most definitely sober, but if the way you were swaying as you stood or your slightly misplaced steps weren’t telling enough, your tipsy giggles sure were. You’d been drinking down gigglewater like there was no tomorrow, making sure that you were well and truly off your face drunk. It felt like most, If not all of Diagon alleys’ daytime bustle had moved into the underground club below Olivanders. The walls were a dark, dusky brown, a perfect backdrop for the flashing lights and strobes. Music was pumping through your veins with every step as you pushed through the sea of people with a drink in hand, you found the corridor, taking a moment to breathe as you sipped on the bitter liquid. 

Moments later you found yourself trapped between a pair of strong arms and the thick cushioned wall, you hadn’t even second guessed the man whose lips were on yours. Your hands were in his hair, pulling him in for a desperate, needy kiss. He was humming against you as his thigh found its way between your legs, letting you grind down against it. The man’s tongue was grazing against your lip, begging for entry - you didn’t even think of rejecting it because the touch felt so familiar. For four, maybe five minutes you were standing making out. You had to admit it felt good, of course it felt good, it was George. You pulled away, gasping for air but also getting a minute to look into his eyes, almost immediately you feel a loss of contact, as the body pressed against yours was stripped from by your side, causing a gentle whine to fall from your lips.

It was only when you blinked a few times that the fogginess of your vision truly got to you as you thought you were seeing double. You continued blinking, hoping the two would form to one, but instead you had stumbled backwards, now leaning on the wall for support. 

George had Fred by the back of his shirt, pulling him away from you, his eyes like daggers as he scowled at his brother. “You can’t use her like that when she’s drunk.” Fred scoffs, the back of his hand coming up to wipe away the saliva that coated his lips, the smirk however was undeterred by the action. “You better wipe that fucking smirk off your face, Fred.” 

The older twin was rolling his eyes, attempting to push past George to finish what he started, however, George’s hand pushed against his brother’s chest pinning him to the wall. “What the fuck?” he exclaimed, shoving George away from him by both shoulders, “Fred, take one look at her, and tell me you're comfortable doing that to her… Merlin, she can hardly stand, don’t be that guy.” 

George was pleading his brother at this point, Fred sighed as he eyed you, taking in every characteristic of your demeanour - you were half asleep, leaning against the wall. He watched you try to wake yourself up and push your body away from the wall only to come crashing right back against it.

“I don’t know why you’re acting so protective all of a sudden… I’ll take her home.” Fred sighed, his hands rubbing over his face in an attempt to sober himself up. 

“Fred, wait- I’ll do it.” his twin cocked an eyebrow at him, “I’m sober, it’s fine, you can’t apperate her she’ll be throwing up everywhere.” Fred nodded, giving George a pat on the shoulder as he walked away, “Thanks, Georgie.” 

Your boyfriend's once angry eyes were softening as he looked at you, full of sadness as he watched you struggle. All he wanted to do was wrap you in his arms, and protect you, muttering under his breath, as he walked over to you, ‘let’s get you home then, angel.’ 

“Y/N, my love, it’s George, I’m gonna take you home, alright?” George was speaking so softly that you immediately felt at home. You nodded quickly, falling into the familiar pair of arms that were now holding you, giving you the anchor to finally walk again.

George led you out of the club and walked slowly with you as you stumbled step by step all the way down the quiet diagon alley. He got you into a cab as you both stumbled out of the leaky cauldron, the horns and chatter of London beaming around, it truly was a city that never slept. He had his arm wrapped around you protectively as you cuddled into his side, the sound of his beating heart slowly brought your racing thoughts down to earth. The way you were curled up against him reminded him of a moment from the war he’d never forget.

//

Your fingers trembled and shook so much that you could no longer control the grip of your wand. It truly sunk in that what you had done was unforgivable. You’d taken someone’s life. You rationalised with yourself that you had done it for your own good, to protect others, the ones you loved and cared for, but more importantly to protect yourself. You quickly pushed away from the body, crawling backwards until your back hit the wall, it had finally sunk in exactly what you'd done and you couldn't even bear to be with yourself as you buried your head between your knees, as silent sobs choked from your lips. 

George found you like this, he had been searching worriedly for hours. It was pure vulnerability, he saw the body of the Bishop lying on her back, your wand discarded and you huddled into a ball. He didn’t know what to do or how to protect you, he reached out to touch your arm but you recoiled at his touch, pulling your knees tighter to your chest.

“Baby, It’s me.” he murmured softly, his voice cracking as he pushed out a whisper, outstretching his hand for you to take when you were ready. “We need to move you, It’s not safe here.” You took his hand, letting him whisk you away to a safer place, but you knew in your heart there was nowhere safer but his arms. 

//

George carried you up the stairs to the bedroom, sitting you down on the bed, kneeling on the floor as he unlaced your boots, pulling each one off gently as his hand massaged your foot. When he looked up at you, you were no longer sat upright, instead having fallen back against the sheets as you began to try and remove your own clothes, doing so in a piss poor way. 

He shook his head, smiling to himself as you grumbled at your own misfortune, his hands gripped your arms, pulling your wrists to his lips, pressing a gentle and loving kiss to the inside of each one. He slowly and cautiously helped you in removing your clothing, making sure to grab an old tee of his to cover you with when you sat naked on his bed. 

He left to go and grab you a glass of water, as well as some painkillers for the morning. Finding you curled up on top of the sheets while shivering from the cold chill of the room. He chuckled once again, popping the items on the bedside table so that he could sit you up. 

"Can we drink some water please, Princess?" you furrowed your brows, looking up at him as he stood in front of you. His large, warm hand was cupping your cheek softly, as he used his other to retrieve the glass of water, "I'll help you, now open up for me, that's a good girl."

His thumb coaxed your lips open, pressing the cold glass against your bottom lip as he gently fed you the clear liquid, you were gulping it down like you were wholeheartedly parched, he smiled at you when you'd finished, placing the glass on the bedside table again. 

"Well done, beautiful, now let's get you under these covers, that ought to stop those shivers, hm?" Your hands wrapped around his neck as he lifted you up off of the bed, you stood, holding onto him as he flipped the duvet corners open, lifting you up so he could lay you down against the mattress. 

He tried to pull your arms from his neck, but you only held on tighter, keeping him pulled close to you as a pout hung on your lips, whining as he tried to pull away from you. "Cuddle me."

He leaned down pressing a kiss to your forehead, he tucked you in gently, the covers wrapping you up nice and warm. "I'll be joining you soon darling but I can't cuddle you like this, I'll crush you if i lay on top of you now," he laughed, the low hum reverberating in your chest as you smiled at him with a doe eyed expression plastered to your face. 

He stripped his jacked off, changing into some more comfortable clothing so that he could join you in bed. As soon as he sat on the mattress, your head was in his lap, he smiled at the sight, his heart warming as your arms wrapped around his thigh, cuddling into him. 

He felt your shoulders begin to shake, looking down at you he saw the salty tears running down your cheeks as you tried to hold back your sobs. The reality of what happened in the hall of the club was hitting you, suddenly feeling sick to your stomach at the prospect that you had been making out with his twin, all the while believing it was George. "I'm so sorry, Georgie, I don't deserve you, I fucked up and I'm sorry, I just- I thought he was you and I was kissing him back and-" 

George had cut you off by pressing a finger to your lips with a gentle shushing sound, his fingertips massaging your scalp as he played with your hair ."You don't need to apologise for a thing, Princess."

The feeling of his hand as he gently dragged his fingers through your hair was lulling you to sleep, you sighed contently, your heart beating faster as you began to hear the gentle soothing sounds of his humming, a sweet and soothing melody that made you feel like you were in heaven. 

To him you looked like an angel when you slept, his heart resting easy at the sight of you painless, careless and content in the arms and presence of the man she loved so dear. She was like his own little slice of heaven, for him to enjoy on earth, always feeling like the damned luckiest man in the world to wake up to the sight of you. 

You awoke the next morning to the smell of bacon and eggs hitting your senses, groaning you reached over and took the two pain relief, washing it down with some water from the night before. You were dragging your feet along the floor as you sought the arms of your boyfriend, you found him in the kitchen plating up some food. You immediately fell to his side, arms wrapping around him as you groaned, the power of your headache hitting you. 

"Eat up, my Love, You'll feel so much better after." George had prepared you a delicious greasy fry up, knowing it was one of your favourite things to wake up to, he pressed a kiss to your cheek as his hand found the small of your back, "Thank you George, smells amazing as always." 

He smiled, taking the two plates to the dining table, where cutlery and orange juice already lay. You felt spoilt by the man you loved as you wolfed down the food. George made the best breakfasts around, aside from Molly, of course, each component cooked with the special ingredient of never-ending love, making it that much more tasty. 

You were the luckiest girl alive, looking into his eyes, he smiled at you, making you melt, even after all these years. George was everything you needed and more, you were sick of hiding him and he was just as sick of hiding you. Your Protector, Your Lover, His angel.

>>>>> Chapter Six

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[dlwritings]

Not Prick | Tom Holland

masterlist found here

pairing - Tom x reader word count - 1,877 warnings - language A/N - for the anon who requested x

summary - A fan gets a little aggressive with Tom at the mall, and he takes it out on the wrong person. But he’s a good guy, and when he realizes his mistake, he’s determined to make up for it.

Tom was having a bad day. There was no rhyme or reason. He was just cranky and tired and wanted to be home. Instead, he was out at the mall with Harrison. Apparently his favorite store was having a sale, and Harrison wanted a new pair of shoes.

“Why don’t you just order them online?” Tom had asked as Harrison all but dragged him out of his apartment.

“I gotta try them on and make sure they look good,” the other argued. Tom rolled his eyes but agreed to go. Now, they were out, and Tom was regretting it.

By the time they got out of the store, they had been spotted by a bunch of fans. And Tom, being the nice guy he was, knew he had to stop and talk to them. He wasn’t going to be the guy who brushes off fans and looks ungrateful. So he painted on his camera-ready smile and chatted with the people in the crowd.

It didn’t take long for Tom to get a pounding headache. There were a lot of factors, he was sure. He was tired, he was cranky, and there were just way too many people around. Tom didn’t usually get anxiety attacks, but when he already wasn’t on his A-game, they kind of snuck up on him. Like now. He looked over at Harrison -who had fans of his own to meet- and locked eyes with him. Harrison could read the stress in his best friend’s eyes and started to try to come up with a way out of the situation.

“Alright, alright,” Harrison said with a light chuckle. “Tom and I have gotta head out. It was so lovely meeting you all.”

A few people whined and tried to protest, but Tom and Harrison just awkwardly laughed it off.

“What a dick,” Tom heard someone say. “We built his career, and he can’t even have the decency to stay for a picture?” She scoffed. “I swear, some celebrities have the biggest fucking egos. Ungrateful prick.”

Tom. Snapped.

He turned around and locked eyes with the girl who had spoken.

Only it wasn’t the girl who had spoken.

Your eyes grew wide when Tom stared at you, anger clear in his brown eyes. “I don’t have any obligation to stand here and talk to you,” he said. “I’m not ungrateful. I’m tired. I’m overwhelmed. I don’t always love leaving my house and getting followed by crowds of people. It’s not normal. I didn’t ask for this. So don’t say shit like I have a big ego when you can’t even begin to imagine what I go through when I step out my front door, alright?”

Tears came to your eyes immediately, and you had no idea what to say. The girl next to you -the one who had actually made the rude comments- was slowly backing away, afraid you would speak up in your defense. Instead, you just opened and closed your mouth a few times, then swallowed thickly. “I’m sorry,” you choked out. Tom just scoffed and rolled his eyes, and you turned and pushed your way past the crowd and to the nearest bathroom.

Your hands were shaking as you found a single-stall bathroom and locked it behind you, sinking to the floor and leaning your back against the door. You didn’t care that you were sitting on the floor of a mall bathroom. If you stood up for too much longer, you were afraid your legs would give out.

Shit, shit, not right now. Not like this. Not here. Not. Here.

You didn’t handle confrontation well. In fact, it was the number one trigger of your panic attacks. The first panic attack you ever remembered having was triggered by two boys from your high school getting in a screaming match in front of you. Their raised voices and angry eyes shook you, and you started crying. On the plus side, your anxiety attack stopped the boys from fighting because everyone was suddenly focusing on getting you to calm down and catch your breath.

So yeah. Confrontation of any kind was not your favorite.

You pulled your knees up to your chest and tried to focus on your breathing, but it was hard. You kept replaying the moment that had just happened in your head. Tom Holland -a legit famous person- just yelled at you in front of a crowd of people for something you didn’t even do. How many people filmed it? Was your favorite celebrity going to remember you as the bitch who called him an ungrateful dick? You weren’t the bitch who called him an ungrateful dick. Why couldn’t you just defend yourself? Why did you have to shut down like that?

Breathe, breathe. Don’t do this. Don’t. Do. This.

Harrison ushered Tom away from the group of fans, noticing his fists clench in anger as he watched the girl run off. “Wait, wait, Tom! Harrison!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Harrison mumbled. He turned to find a girl jogging after them. “Listen, we really-”

“No, I know, I know,” she said. “I just, that girl you yelled at?” She was looking at Tom. “She wasn’t the one who said that stuff.”

Guilt settled in Tom’s stomach. “What?” he said.

“I saw the girl who actually said that,” she said. “It wasn’t that girl. I don’t know either of them, but I just thought I should let you know. She seemed pretty shaken up, and I just-” She paused. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad or anything. I just didn’t want you thinking the wrong girl was being a bitch. It, it-” She stuttered, feeling foolish suddenly. “This probably doesn’t matter at all, and I should’ve just-”

“Did you see where she went?”

The girl furrowed her eyebrows at Tom’s question. “What?” she asked.

“The girl,” he said. “The one I yelled at? Did you see where she ran off to?”

“Uh, the bathroom I think,” she said. “The single stall down by Topman.”

Without any explanation, Tom jogged off in the direction of the bathroom in question. He heard Harrison calling after him, but he didn’t stop or turn around. When he got to the bathroom, he paused, his fist inches from the door. Was this necessary?

Yes. Mum raised a gentleman. You were a prick, and you need to own up to it.

You sat up a little straighter when there was a knock at the bathroom door. “Just a minute!” you called. You stood up and quickly went to the mirror to clean any mascara that might’ve slid down your cheeks. You flushed the toilet and pretended to wash your hands for good measure, then opened the door.

On the other side was none other than Tom Holland.

You felt a lump grow in your throat again as you hung your head and tried to brush past him. “Sorry,” you mumbled.

“Wait, wait,” he said, reaching out to grab your forearm. You stopped and looked at him. He looked stressed, and his eyes were sad. He looked like a completely different person from the man who yelled at you ten minutes ago. “I’m sorry,” he said, releasing his hold on your arm. “Someone told me you weren’t the one who said those things.” You pressed your lips into a tight line and looked down at your shoes. “Even if you were,” Tom continued, “I shouldn’t have snapped like that. I was out of line. I don’t usually snap like that. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you said, though your eyes were still trained on the floor.

Clearly, it wasn’t fine. Tom wasn’t dumb. He could see your slightly puffy eyes and the remains of mascara on your cheeks that you hadn’t quite been able to wipe away. He had done that, and that wasn’t okay. What had gotten into him?

“Do you like smoothies?”

This caused you to look up. “What?” you asked, your eyebrows furrowed.

“Do you like smoothies?” he repeated. “Harrison and I were going to grab some on our way home. Let me buy you one.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you said quickly, shaking your head.

“I want to,” he said. “Consider it an extended apology. And maybe proof that I’m not a prick.” A small smile crept up your lips, and the sight made Tom do the same.

“Okay,” you said. “That sounds nice.”

Tom nodded happily, and the two of you walked back over to where Harrison was standing and waiting. “So what’s your name?” Tom asked as the three of you walked to the parking garage.

“(Y/N),” you said.

“Well it’s nice to meet you,” he said.

You smiled. “You too.”

Tom bought you a smoothie and invited you to stay and hang out with him and Harrison. Of course, you obliged. The three of you sat on the patio of the smoothie shop and had your drinks, chatting and laughing like old friends. They were both really easy to talk to, and you were quickly forgetting about the whole ordeal at the mall. Tom clearly felt horribly, and you knew it was all just a misunderstanding. Plus, everyone was allowed to have bad days. Even celebrities. You couldn’t count the number of times you snapped at your friends or family because you were in a bad mood.

When you finished with your drinks, the boys offered to drive you home. You accepted, considering you had taken the bus to the mall. Maybe you were being naive, taking a ride from two boys you didn’t know, but you highly doubted you were going to get kidnapped by Tom Holland and Harrison Osterfield. Again, maybe you were being naive.

But you gave them directions to your apartment, and you arrived unscathed. “Let me walk you to your door,” Tom said.

“Okay,” you said. You smiled at Harrison. “It was nice to meet you.”

“You too,” he said back. Tom walked you to your door with his hands shoved in his pockets.

“So,” he said, “I just want to apologize again for what I said.”

“It’s really not a big deal,” you said. “I understand. You’re allowed the occasional bad day. And to be fair, what that girl said was really rude. I get why you-”

Tom cut you off by placing a sweet kiss to your cheek.

You blushed and put your hand where his lips had been. “What was that for?” you asked with a shy smile. Tom held back a smile of his own and shrugged.

“I just think you’re sweet,” he said. “And I liked spending the afternoon with you.”

You laughed lightly. “I liked spending the afternoon with you, too.”

“Could I get your number maybe?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah,” you said. “That’s okay.”

You switched phones and exchanged numbers. When he handed yours back to you, you laughed at the name he put: Not Prick

“You think you’ll remember that’s me?” he asked as you slid the phone in your pocket.

You nodded. “Impossible for me to forget.”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck again. “I’ll text you, then.”

“Okay,” you said. “Thanks again for the smoothie.”

“Of course,” he said. “Maybe next time it’ll be dinner.”

----- ----- ----- -----

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[dreaminae]

We All Need The One Friend

Chapter 8

Hours rolled by as sunlight shifted to moonlight. Friendly competition soon became dangerous as personal tensions rose within the group.

"Rise of Batman!" One person guessed of Jordan's pose.

"Transformers!" A friend playfully argued.

Jordan changes poses in hopes that it might be easier to guess.

With time up, Jordan cracked up as everyone failed to guess his term.

"Okay, what even was that?" Simone giggled.

"Back to the future." Jordan responded in a 'duh' tone as if everyone should've known. "Greatest movie of all time!"

"I've never watched that movie in my life." Simone chuckled, "Plus, the greatest movie of all time is Parasite. Hello!"

"Jordan doesn't do subtitles." J.J laughed. "Like have you met my man?"

Everyone joined in the laughter, but Simone couldn't help but feel like it was strange that she hasn't known a small detail like that.

The game went on as Vanessa took the reigns.

"One word." One person shouted.

"A place. No no, a person." Another one added to list of clues.

"Uh, a painting.... a movie." Layla interjected.

"No, a plane. Wait, what?" One of them fumbled over when Vanessa switched stances.

"You're on a plane."

Giggling, Vanessa changed gestures again.

"Bald. You're bald. A bald eagle." J.J guessed.

"No, not an animal." Vanessa choked up.

"Aye, no cheating." Jordan chuckled as Vanessa spoke.

"C'mon guys." Vanessa encouraged, ignoring Jordan's rules. "You had a poster of him in your room when your ten." She spat out in Asher's direction.

"Samuel L. Jackson!" Asher shouted, jumping up as if he won the lottery.

Liv glanced between the two of them as if they grew two heads. It was stupid how one small detail held a bigger picture.

"Well, you don't get a point for that one." Simone scrutinized, gaining a careless shrug from Vanessa.

The game rolled on, leading to Spencer's turn.

Galloping his feet and twirling his arm, Spencer caused everyone to gather into fits of laughter.

"A cowboy," Jordan shouted first.

"The rodeo." Asher chuckled.

"Wild, wild west." Layla joined in, holding back her laughs.

Adding to his performance, Spencer shook his foot hysterically, while twirling his arm like a madman.

Finally catching on to his charade, Olivia thought back to the night she made Spencer rewatch all her favorite childhood movies. Quoting one of her favorite lines, Spencer had her in hysterics for half an hour. She could still remember him using her belt as a rope, shouting 'There's a snake in my boot'.

"Woody," Olivia muttered with a small smile.

"What?" Her brother asked curiously, not completely hearing her response.

"It's woody!" Olivia laughed, which Spencer replied to with a smirk.

They met each other eyes, before bursting out, "There's a snake in my boot!"

The entire group fell out laughing, excluding Layla.

Spencer returned to his seat grinning like an idiot, but couldn't help but to notice his girlfriend's harsh mood.

"Hey, are you alright?"

Layla nodded lightly. "Guess I am just tired." She muttered, not bothering to look in his direction.

Sensing there was more to it, Spencer left it alone, not wanting to cause a scene in front of his friends.

"Alright, I have the perfect game to play next," Vanessa announced, as she returned from the house with her bottle of booze. "Anyone up for a game of Never Have I Ever. The more you've done the more you drink."

Her announcement soured the mood as Spencer immediately shut down her idea. "Sorry, Ma." Spencer asserted firmly. "Ain't bo drinking happening this weekend."

His eyes flew to Olivia, followed by everyone else's. She rolled her eyes at their dramatics.

"Oh, please. Don't stay sober on my account." Olivia dryly encouraged. After all, this was the first time in weeks she'd been completely sober. With all of her friends within proximity this weekend, drinking wasn't an option for her.

Noting Liv's bitter tone towards her, Vanessa tried to ease the tension. "Sorry, Liv. I forget that you don't drink. That was so insensitive of me." She apologized, placing the booze on the ground.

"It's okay. It's not something I'd expected you to know, so.." Liv shrugged it off, dismissing the subject all together.

"No, liquor. Got it." Vanessa summed up, ignoring Liv's clear implied diss of Vanessa's newness to their group.

Asher rubbed Olivia's thigh, silently asking her to lighten up. Cocking up a brow, she gave him her iconic 'I could careless' glare.

"No drinks doesn't mean no turn-up." J.J cheered. "Introducing the burns of all burns -- jalapeno-infused pickle juice."

"What don't you have in that box man?" Spencer questioned, seriously wondering where J.J randoms items came from.

"Let the burns begin."

---------------------------

"Alright, never have I ever walked in on my parents doing it." Simone started the game off.

First victim up, Asher gulped down his first dose of the throat burning juice.

"Oh, God. Asher. No!" Olivia cringed.

"I don't wanna talk it." Asher chuckled at the memory. "RV trip...'08....super weird."

"Oh, you're gonna talk about it." Spencer and Jordan laughed together.

"Not the one to up to Sanoma. How could you not to me?" Vanessa asked playfully, catching Olivia's attention yet again.

Liv couldn't help but wonder just how much did Vanessa know about Asher, that she didn't.

"Cause I was scarred for life," Asher replied, oblivious to the questionable expression of Liv's face.

"Alright, my turn. Never have I ever bought 300 dollars shoes for my one night in Vegas." Simone teased Olivia's bad spending habits.

Tensing up, Liv looked everywhere besides at Layla.

"No cheating. Drink up, Liv." Simone laugh, unaware of the big secret she just revealed.

Layla's eyes narrowed in Liv's direction, fed up with the secrets.

Spencer gawked at his girlffriend, realizing that he and Liv might have to come clean sooner than expected.

"Alright, never have I ever said I love you just to get someone to hook up with me." Vanessa added to game.

All the boys drank besides Spencer.

"Yikes, that was a test that you all failed." Vanessa taunted, "Besides Spencer."

"My bro is a real one. When he says it, he means it." J.J admired, increasing the growing tension between Spencer and his love interest.

In Liv's case, her heart clenched at the mentally, replayed memory of Spencer professing his love for her. She yearned to have a chance just to tell him how she felt, despite the chance he no longer felt the same.

However, in Layla's case, all the times that Spencer claimed to love her we're burning in a flame of betrayal. Because despite that fact she had no solid evidence, that conveyed her worse thought she knew Spencer wasn't being truthful with her.

"You're a lucky one, Layla."

Layla's sneer went unheard by the majority of the group besides the two people who knew the jig was up.

Unaware of the conflicts brewing, J.J continued the game. His hand already pointing at his aimed victim.

"Never have I ever ran naked through a football field."

Admitting the embarrassing memory, Jordan gulped back his shot of pickle juice.

"Jordan! Tell me you didn't!" Simone teased.

"Okay. Okay. I did it. I run through the field, butt naked." Jordan chuckled. "What was it? Freshmen year?"

He and J.J chuckled laughed over the recollection.

"Varsity team stole all of our clothes, thanks to Ash -- over here --- acting like he owned the place during tryouts" Jordan recalled funnily.

"Cause I did." Asher cockily popped his collar. "It's called confidence."

"Confidence. Okay." Jordan playfully mocked. "Whatever you want to call it. Your dumbass stays getting us in trouble."

Asher nodded with a knowing smile. But Vanessa saw nothing funny about it.

"Wow." She gasped seriously. "Okay. Never have I ever crapped all over folks that we're supposed to be my friends."

The laughter stopped, and the smiles dropped in reaction to Vanessa switch up.

"Uh, Vanessa it's alright." Asher tried to jump in before she took things too far.

"It's just jokes." Jordan defended himself, not seeing the harm in messing around.

Vanessa's scornful expression was enough for Jordan to see that she couldn't disagree more.

Maybe it was her role as a protective sister that came into play. Perhaps, it was the jealously towards Vanessa knowing things about Asher that Liv didn't. Or maybe it was simply that Liv didn't feel Vanessa had any right to make presumed assumptions on any of the dynamics within their group when Vanessa barely knew any of them beyond a first-name basis.

Whatever it was, Vanessa's attempt to trash talk her twin was Olivia's last straw. And with that, she felt it was only right to return the favor.

"Hmm, well, Never have I ever spent the summer getting to somebody else's boyfriend a little too much." Liv snapped at Vanessa.

"Liv! What the hell!" Asher choked up, unable to believe that she publically humiliated Vanessa in that manner.

"Yo, Ash. Relax. Let's just play the game." Jordan instructed, trying to ease the tension he caused.

"You wanna play? Fine." Asher groaned. "Never have I ever cheated a concussion protocol to play in a game." He added spitefully.

"What is he talking about?" Simone inquired seriously, over the entire game. "You cheated your concussion protocol? How could you not tell me something like that?"

"You mean like you told me about Princeton?" Jordan asked, trying to guilt trip her right back.

"Wow!" Simone gasped in awe, tossing her blanket aside before storming off.

"Ah, babe, wait! I didn't mean it like that!" Jordan quibbled, following behind Simone. "Baby, wait. Sweetie!"

With the fun atmosphere ruined, the remainder of the group broke off to deal with their own problems.

-----------------------------

"Can you believe Liv?" Asher groaned, as he and Layla entered the kitchen.

"Not really. Find it hard to believe anyone with all the secrets that's been hidden." Layla replied harshly.

"What do you mean?" Asher asked, clueless.

"Simone's Never Have I Ever!" Layla responded in a duh tone. "When has Olivia ever gone to Vegas."

"Olivia wouldn't lie about going to Vegas. She has no reason to." Asher scoffed.

"You mean like she had no reason to lie about being in Mexico." Layla revealed.

"Liv came to Mexico? When?" Asher asked desperately. "She never told me."

"She went to Mexico to surprise her boyfriend." Layla groaned, annoyed that she had to be the one to tell him. "Only when she got there she saw you and random girl boo'd up." She gestured towards Vanessa as the brunette and J.J entered the room.

"Wait, you and Asher?" J.J asked heartbroken, catching the last part of Layla's statement. "Since when?"

"Where's Olivia now?" Asher requested to know, needing to hear all of this from her.

"I don't think that" Spencer began to suggest against going after Liv, but was interrupted by his girlfriend.

"She's down by bonfire," Layla interjected before her boyfriend could continue to shield his side piece from the mess they made.

Bypassing the other three teens, Asher went to find his girlfriend and demand some answers. Meanwhile, Vanessa and J.J left Spencer and Layla to handle their business in private.

------------------------------

#3x07 #all american #olivia and spencer #spelivia #olivia baker #spencer and olivia #spencer james #3x06

[chaotic-noceur]

if you love something, let it go

[ day 2 | angstageddon masterlist ]

pairing: Javier Peña x reader

summary: Javier is familiar with the concept of love, but it is not something he’ll allow himself to indulge in.

warnings: heavy angst, swearing, degradation (DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE NOT IN A GOOD MENTAL SPACE)

credits: shout out to my loves @din-damn-djarin @ezrasarm for beta reading and letting me hurt them at too-early-in-the-morning o’clock! Some dialogue was prompted by this shadowhunters clip.

a/n: I AM SORRY. I love every single one of you reading this but I’m an angry sad soul and it had to go somewhere 😬also, im a little all over the place rn so i might be a little slow on replies but im sending all of you virtual hugs!

Seriously, DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE NOT IN A GOOD HEAD SPACE.  

gif by @pascvl​

You lose your breath every time he walks into the room. Your heart beats faster when he passes by. Your skin tingles when his breath kisses your skin as he hovers over your shoulder. You think this is the feeling that they talk about in the movies. You think this is love. The thought makes your heart flutter.

His mind goes blank every time he sees you. His heart flares when he hears your laughter and he’s not the cause of it. His mind replays your conversations on an endless loop. He thinks this is the feeling that his father had told him about. He thinks this is love. The thought makes his stomach churn. 

●●●●

The betting pool is started by a new trainee looking to make some quick cash. He bet that he could get a confession out of Javier Peña before the year was through. When word gets out that there’s a wager for the office’s resident grump to finally ‘get his head out of his ass and admit his feelings’, agents from every department are quick to place their bets. It didn’t take a trained agent to see that the pair of you were hopelessly in love.

The pool gets spread so far up the ranks that even Messina hears the whispers. She turns a blind eye to the childish game. She knows that the rumours of their infamous philanderer in love were only that: rumours, half truths, lies. A man with his history wouldn’t know what love was even if it was staring him in the face.

Days turn into weeks, which turn into months but no amount of meddling by the trainees is enough to draw out an admission of his affections. Steve watches you from his perch on Javier’s desk as his partner stabs at the typewriter keys. “You could just talk to 'em instead of destroying government assets.” There’s a smugness in his voice that tells Javier that his meddlesome partner is smirking. 

“Fuck off Murphy.” Your laughter cuts through the bustling office chatter. Javier looks up to see a fresh-faced trainee leaning against your desk, taking up too much of your personal space for his liking. He grits his teeth and once again the sound of his furious typing takes over the room. Steve throws his hands up in mock surrender.

●●●●

The clearing of a throat has you turning your head over your shoulder, coffee pot in hand. Steve is leaning against the door frame with one eyebrow raised. You roll your eyes at him as you return to your coffee making. 

“What do you want, Murphy?” you call over your shoulder, feigned curiosity lacing your voice. You know what he wants. He has that look in his eye, the one that says ‘how many more times do we need to have this talk’. 

“Don’t give me that shit,” he starts. You raise an unamused eyebrow at him in return. He puts his mug down beside you, leans his hip against the counter and folds his arms as he turns to you. “If I have to slap him out of his daydream one more time, he won’t have a face anymore.” You scoff.

“You have no proof that he daydreams about me.” He opens his mouth to speak but your finger strikes his chest before he can. Coffee splashes against the inside of the pot dangerously as you move. “And even if he does, that doesn’t mean he’s in love with me.” Steve snorts at your words.

“Oh, he’s in love with you alright. He talks about you so much that even Connie’s getting fed up.” You shake your head in mock disbelief, an attempt to hide the sheepish smile creeping its way onto your face. The blond man sees right through your charade. “Just, tell him for fucks sake. I need my partner back if we’re gonna take down Escobar.”

You open your mouth to counter him but he’s out of the room before you can organise your thoughts. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice his empty cup sitting beside yours. You huff out a laugh, “idiot.”

●●●●

Two months and countless Steve-terventions later, you’d decided that enough was enough. You were getting tired of living in the ‘what ifs’. You wanted to love and be loved by Javier Peña. 

The thought of planning some kind of grand extravagant gesture had crossed your mind but this was Javier you were talking about. He hated grand extravagant gestures. So you settled for just… telling him. No beating around the bush, no carefully-worded metaphors. Just you, your words and your heart. God, you hoped that was enough.

You’re getting ready to leave when the light reflecting off a nearby desk lamp catches your attention. Tracing it back to its source, you find Javier hunched over a heap of files. Spreads of paper are sprawled across every available surface. The corner of your lips turn upwards when he pulls a face at the document in front of him. 

You purse your lips as you contemplate your options: talk to him now, with nowhere to hide from the consequences of your declaration or talk to him during official work hours, where you could be spared prolonged embarrassment. Dozens of scenarios play themselves out in your head, your familiar daydreams altering themselves to fit the scene before you. You let out a puff of air as you settle on talking to him now. Fewer witnesses, for good or for bad. 

You dig around your drawer for your secret stash of snacks before making your way to him. He looks up when he hears the familiar rustling of the packet. A tired smile graces his face as you pull Steve’s chair around, dropping the packet onto his desk as you sit. You fall into the familiar routine and he hands you a nearby file. Occasionally, your elbows kiss and you exchange quiet apologies while pretending you don’t crave each other’s touch.

You’re sweeping stray sheets of paper into your hand when it dawns on you that the ‘right time’ will never come unless you make it. A determined exhale leaves you as you reach across his desk while he files the last of the paperwork. “I need to tell you something and I need you to listen to me.” 

The way you’re looking at him sends a chill down his spine. There’s a fire behind your eyes that he’s never seen before and he doesn’t know what to expect. He nods solemnly instead. This is it, he thinks. She’s going to tell me that I’m a burden or that I’m a fuck up. He braces himself for the news.

“I…” his eyes are fixed on you and you glance away briefly as your confidence wavers. Just tell him. He loves you too. Steve assured you of it. The sheets of paper rustle in your hand as you tighten your grip. “I love you, Javi.” 

Deep brown eyes widen in shock. His heart falters as the weight of your words sink in. He blinks at you hesitantly, wondering if he’d misheard. When you say nothing, fireworks explode in his belly as he searches for his words but- oh.

Why? Why him? Don’t you know of everything that he’s done? He left his high school sweetheart at the altar without so much as a goodbye. He didn’t even have the decency to send her an apology and he can barely bring himself to feel guilty. He’s lied, cheated, and killed without an ounce of remorse. Worst of all, he’d do it all again if it means getting Escobar. He was a monster and a killer. He doesn’t deserve love. Not after everything he’s done. Not after the way he treated his first one. So he does the logical thing. He pushes you away, puts up the barricades and lines them with barbed wire.

“You shouldn’t,” he replies. He jerks his arm away and turns his back to you, moving to store the file in the cabinet behind him.

“But I do. Javi, I-”

“No!” He slams the metal cabinet shut for emphasis. The scraping of rusty metal echoes through the room. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. But Steve had said!

“Just tell me you don’t love me too and I’ll stop. Tell me you don’t feel what I feel. Tell me that your heart doesn’t skip a beat when you make me laugh. Tell me that you don’t count the hours until you get to see me again. Tell me that you don’t wish it was me that you wake up next to instead of-” you choke on your words, instead of your ‘informants’.

He spins around sharply and you fix your gaze on him, desperately willing your heart to stop pounding in your ears. Fiery brown orbs stare back at you instead, void of their previous tenderness. He holds your gaze as he takes curt steps towards you. He’s close enough now that you can feel his breath on your face and your heart clenches in misplaced hope. Your breath hitches as he leans in. 

“I don’t.”

With two words, you see your world shatter before your eyes. You flinch back in response but he keeps going, leaning closer as you draw away. “I don’t love you.” His voice is cold and deadly. It’s icier than you’ve ever heard it and you’ve seen him threaten the devil’s right-hand man. You bite the inside of your cheek in a feeble attempt to stop the tears from welling in your eyes. He doesn’t mean it, you lie to yourself. He can’t mean it. He-

“I never have and I never will. You are nothing but a distraction to me.” He slows his words as he speaks, as if needing to emphasise them. “Do you think you’re important? That you matter? I can’t even tell you what colour your eyes are without looking at them first.” It’s a lie. But you deserve better than a screw up like him. He can’t give you the life you deserve, the life he needs you to live. The life that he wants but can never have. He can’t drag you into the endless pit of darkness that he’s learnt to call home. He won’t. 

He clenches his jaw and brings his lips to your ear, shoving down the urge to kiss you. “I could never love someone as pathetic and weak as you.” He whispers his words like a slow-acting venom, delivering his final blow. He knows he’s hit the mark when he hears the choked sob that leaves your body. He pulls away to see your fists balled at your side as tears glide down your face.

He didn’t have to do that. He could’ve just said no but he didn’t. Instead, he’d rubbed salt into unhealed wounds that you’d made the mistake of showing him. He wanted to hurt you and that made you angry. A quiet voice whispers that he’s hiding behind his words, that there’s more to the story. You silence the voice without a second thought because right now? You don’t care why he did it. All you feel is anger, and pain. 

The fire from before morphs into something sinister and you let the flames grow. It licks at your heart, daring it to explode, to unleash everything you’ve been holding back. So you let him burn in your rage. You let him burn and you drown out the screams.

“Fuck you, Javier Peña!” Your finger stabs into his chest in time with each word. “Fuck you and everything you fight for!” You flail your arms out wide. He flinches but you don’t notice. “All you care about is Escobar. You don’t give a shit who you hurt along the way, as long as you get what you want.” 

You scoff as you fold your arms across your chest. You’re breathing hard out of your nose and you hate the way Javier holds your gaze. You hate the way it challenges you to keep going, almost like he’s enjoying it.

You grind your teeth together as you calm the raging flames inside your chest. “No matter how you spin it Javier, whatever bullshit you tell yourself to get yourself to sleep at night... it’s just that. Bullshit.” You shake your head in frustration as you spin on your heels, turning to leave. 

A picture of him and Murphy falls into your line of sight and something sparks within you. An ember in the dying flames. You drag all the emotion out of your voice before speaking. You need him to hear your words without them being clouded by your fury. “When Murphy walks away from it all, he’ll have someone to go home to. You?” you glance over your shoulder to look at him, “you’ll never have anyone.”

He stays frozen in place until the sound of your shoes tapping against the floor has long since faded. A single tear rolls down the left side of his cheek. I wish it could be you.

——angstageddon tag list

@din-damn-djarin @ezrasarm @chaoticspaceidiot @engineeredfiction @pedropascalito @dreamgirl-67 @hillarymurray4 @wille-zarr @oloreaa @this-cat-is-dea @marydjarin @roxypeanut @cryptkeepersoul @agirllovespasta @wickedfrsgrl @dindisneydjarin  @opheliaelysia @aeryntheofficial @adikaofmandalore​ @goldafterglow​ @yespolkadotkitty​ @chibi-liz05​ @scarlettvonsass​ @rpcvliz​ @cinewhore​ @basura2319​ @theravenreads​ @mxndoscyarika​ @jaime1110​ @f0rever15elf​ @pancakepike​ @phoenixhalliwell​

#javier peña x reader #javier peña #narcos #angstageddon #kay writes

[yet-another-fan-girl9]

Inhuman (1)

Summary: All beings in the universe have a soulmate except for Midgardians. People can hear their soulmate in their heads. For almost five hundred and fifty years, Loki believed that he had no soulmate until 1513 when a Midgardian princess was born. Will fate be kind to them or will the universe tear them apart?

Warnings: violence, language, hella historical inaccuracies (I tried to do research but then got lazy), maybe some AOS season 2 spoilers(?)

Word Count: ~3400

A/N: Yay! The re-write is here! I changed it so now there are flashbacks and stuff and the chapters are longer! I’m also posting this chapter a day early because of reasons. Anyways, enjoy!

[New York, New York, March 2024]

‘Soulmates?’ You had never heard of the concept.

‘We are destined to be together. The universe made it so.’

You shot up in bed, a light sheen of sweat covered your body. Loki’s words replayed over and over in your head. You hadn’t heard his actual voice in so long but it was still as clear as if he was speaking to you now. It had been twelve years since you had seen him in Germany and he had tried to take over.

‘We are destined to be together.’

The words echoed in your mind. ‘Destined’ huh? Well, if you’d learned anything from the past four hundred and eighty-six years that you were not with Loki, it’s that the universe does a shit job at keeping you together. You ran your fingers through your hair, easily smoothing out the tangled mess. It was too early to think about Loki.

You slipped out of the silk sheets that covered your king-sized bed in your two-level, top floor Upper East Side penthouse. You were very proud of how far you had come. The view was amazing. You could see some of Central Park from one side and the stereotypical New York skyline from another.

As you walked out of your room, you caught your reflection in one of your full-sized mirrors. And that was definitely a nice view. When you came out of Terrigenesis almost five hundred years ago, you quickly discovered that you were now the blueprint for a perfect person. Straight, white teeth, surprisingly tameable hair, and clear, unblemished skin were some of the visually obvious changes. In addition to your perfected looks, you had increased senses, healing, strength, endurance, and your favorite, pain tolerance. Oh, and don’t forget you basically look twenty-five forever.

You checked your phone while you made breakfast in the kitchen downstairs. There were a couple of emails from your employees on their latest jobs. You opened one from Max, your right-hand man. You were reading over some job offers he had handpicked for you when you got a text from the man himself.

Bringing up some donuts!

Max was the only person from work to have access to your penthouse. He was your best friend. The two of you had met when you were at Afterlife nearly fifteen years ago. He was an Inhuman as well. All of your employees were Inhumans, using their specialties to carry out their jobs. Max had the power to change surfaces. It was a strange power, but he had learned to make it very useful. He could cause his pursuers to slip on the suddenly ice-like ground or climb up a glass skyscraper.

“Hello, bitch! I brought donuts!” Max called from the elevator.

“I’m in the kitchen!”

Max walked in holding the goods. He always wore eccentric color-coordinated outfits. Even the times you saw him in stealth mode, he had to have some lace or frill somewhere. Today he wore a mixture of neon green and pink with matching eyeliner.

“Are Cosmo and Wanda disguising themselves as your clothes?” you asked.

“Haha,” he deadpanned. “I knew you were going to say something like that. You’re so fucking funny. Soo…” He plopped the three large donut boxes onto your kitchen counter. “Have you heard of the Avenger’s new quote-unquote recruit?”

“Um, I think it’s your job to keep tabs on heroes.” You opened the nearest box and happily pulled out your favorite donut.

“Okay. Number one: I’m not speaking to you as your right-hand, right now, but as your friend.” He held up his finger. “Number two: it’s not really a job if I do it in my free time anyways. You’re paying me to do something that I do on an hourly basis.”

“You stalk the Avengers on an hourly basis?”

“No? Anyways, number three: it’s Thor’s brother. It’s your Loki.”

“What the fuck?” you choke on your donut. Max was the only person who knew you that you and Loki had a history. And that’s all he knew. Nothing about soulmates or all that shit. “What the fuck, Max? Did you try to use donuts to soften the blow? Stop laughing.”

“I-I wish I had caught that reaction on camera,” he said in between fits of giggles.

“Haha,” it was your turn to deadpan. “Fuck, man. I guess we just have to double our efforts to keep ourselves off of their radar.”

“Do you think they’ve forgiven him for New York?” Max composed himself.

“I mean, they must have if they’re letting him join the team.” You chanced another bite of your donut.

“But lots of people haven’t.”

“Lots of people still haven’t forgiven Barnes,” you pointed out. You didn’t know when or why Loki had attacked New York. That Loki was nothing like the man who you had grown to love back in the 1500s. But you were nothing like that girl either.

 “Have you chosen a new job from the list I sent you?” he changed the subject.

“No, not yet, and you have a little…” you motioned to the corner of your mouth.

Max got the hint and wiped some powder off of his mouth. You noticed the sprinkling of grey that was mixed into his curly black hair. He displayed the last fifteen years proudly while you remained unchanged. Max was the closest you’ve been to someone in a long time, and just like everyone before him, you would outlive him. But you would remember him. You remembered everyone. You remembered everything.

Right now, you thought of Agnes, your first real friend. She was your handmaiden and you had met right before everything went to shit. She had helped you cope after you underwent Terrigenesis, although you hadn’t known what it was back then. She had helped you run away and even died for you. You had only known her for nine years, but you compared everyone to her. Max held second place, right after Agnes.

“I think we should take the Senator’s offer,” Max said, jolting you out of your memories. He pulled up the offer on his iPad. “One million to off his upcoming competition.”

“Damn,” you whistled. “He’s desperate, isn’t he? Is there a deadline?”

“No, but I assume we should get it done quickly.”

“Send over the info.”

🌹

You shoved the flower into Jake Morano’s mouth. Blood from the bullet wound in his forehead trickled down until it turned the perfect, white rose red. You snapped a quick photo on your burner phone to send to the Senator as confirmation. With a huff, you looked around the apartment. Mr. Anderson had put up a fight, although it didn’t do anything to deter you and Max. A few glass awards were in pieces on the hardwood floor, family pictures were shattered, and the wall behind you held a couple of bullets from Anderson’s gun.

“All good?” Max asked from his location by the computer. He was deleting all footage of you being there. And everything else, just to be safe.

“Yep.” You walked over to him, your boots making a satisfying clicking on the ground, and proudly displayed the picture of the dead body. “Got the confirmation picture for the Senator. How’s it coming?”

“Almost… there. We’re good to go.”

The two of you left in your favorite black Lamborghini. Unfortunately, you actually had to drive places now that Gordon was dead. You followed his advice, though, and bought a plane along with four other sports cars, a helicopter, and a couple of motorcycles. You knew how to operate every single one of them. What else were you supposed to do except for establishing your contract killing empire?

🌹

Loki stood in the middle of his assigned room with his hands on his hips. It certainly was much nicer than the last prison the Avengers had kept him in. They may say it wasn’t a prison but the twenty-four-hour surveillance from Stark’s new AI said otherwise. Even though it was nicer than the shitty glass cylinder from twelve years ago, it was empty. Thor had shown Loki the few things in his room: books, photographs, and his own goddamned merchandise. 

Would Loki have his own merchandise one day? Everyone was redeemable as shown by Romanoff and Barnes. Maybe there would be plastic replicas of his helmet? No, Loki thought that was stupid. Only heroes got merchandise and heroes had to show up to events and sponsor health drinks or whatever the fuck they do. Heroes had to be nice.

Nothing good ever came from being on Midgard. Most recently, there was his father dying, although what followed was worse. Before that was the attack he had been forced to make on the city. And the first time he had ever come to Midgard had ended with disappointment and heartbreak.

Loki sighed and waved his hand to conjure green and gold accents, sheets, and blankets. At least there was color in the room now. No doubt the AI had reported that he had used his magic. He hoped it had also told them that all he did was improve the room, he didn’t need anyone talking to him at the moment.

“Good afternoon, Reindeer Games,” the AI echoed through the room. Loki glowered at the sound of Stark’s nickname. “There is a meeting in Conference Room Five that the entire team is required to attend.”

Loki hadn’t the faintest fucking idea where the conference rooms were. He left his room and caught sight of his brother and the Valkyrie. The God of Mischief followed the pair down to where the meeting was taking place. Did he really want to go? If he wanted to be part of the team he would have to. He preferred the Revengers, though. While it had lasted. It was smaller.

Everyone was sitting around the long table. Of course, Loki would be the last to arrive. Stark and Barton both glared at him when he entered. Understandable. Romanoff remained impassive, but Loki knew she would bash his head in the first chance she got. Rogers had to remain positive that Loki could be redeemed because if the Norse God could redeem himself, then so could Barnes. Bruce had warmed up to Loki on the journey to Midgard. None of the newer members of the team outright hated him, but they were still cautious around him.

Loki found himself sitting in between his brother and Bruce. Stark went up to the screen at the front and everyone fell silent.

“This is Jake Morano.” The screen turned on to show a dead man with a rose stuffed in his mouth. “He was going to run for Senator against this guy.” The screen changed. “This guy is William Anderson, a very corrupt Senator. In the last month, Morano began to gain a lot of support including a sponsor from us. Well, a sponsor from me in the name of the Avengers.”

“Are you implying that Anderson killed Morano?” Rogers asked.

“I’m saying that Anderson hired someone to kill Morano.” The screen changed again to display multiple bodies left with a rose in their mouths. “I had F.R.I.D.A.Y. do a quick search of bodies with roses found in their mouths and we found a shocking amount of similar deaths. The first ones dating back to the nineteen twenties. More recently, some of the deaths have happened at the same time on opposite sides of the globe. Deaths include, but are not limited to, shooting, stabbing, poisoning, drowning, burning, missing organs, being found stuck in a wall, and looking like a suicide. They all have a white rose soaked in blood in their mouths.”

“Are you sure it isn’t a serial killer?” Wilson questioned.

“Yeah, it’s probably not the same guy,” Romanoff pointed out. “Especially if it goes back to before Steve looked like that.”

“It’s gotta be an organization,” Barnes guessed. “Been around for a while, a couple of deaths happening at the same time, and one constant MO.”

“Loki?” Everyone looked at the God of Mischief when Stark said his name. “You’re technically a part of this team now. What’s your opinion?”

“Barnes is probably right,” Loki said after a moment’s hesitation. “The locations are all over the place and there are many different ways the victims met their demise.”

They nodded and Loki returned to silence.

“Alright, game plan.” Stark clapped his hands. “We have to get Anderson into an interrogation room. Round one is the good cops: Steve and Sam. When he doesn’t crack, and he won’t, we up the intensity. Nat and the Manchurian Candidate will do some intimidation. If he still doesn’t crack we can send in Wanda, or even Reindeer Games if she’s not comfortable, to search his mind.”

“Are all Midgardian politics like that?” Loki heard the Valkyrie ask Thor after the meeting. Thor only shrugged so she turned to Bruce.

“I mean, I haven't been here in a while but it’s always kinda been fucked up.”

Only an hour after the meeting, Anderson took out one million dollars in cash. Stark tracked him to a small cafe where he was going to, no doubt, pay the assassin. The team rallied, but of course, Loki wasn’t going. Apparently, he wasn’t ‘cleared’ yet. The only other people staying behind were the Valkyrie, Thor, and Barton due to a recent injury. 

Loki went to his room to sulk, although he told everyone he was thinking. He didn’t want to be here. Maybe he wanted to go somewhere that reminded him of home with tall buildings that reached the sky… 

🌹

"Hello, (Y/N)." Loki’s voice was as smooth as it was in your head, but it was different. The only way you could describe it was that it was solid. It felt less intimate. Like he could bless others with his words, but it was more special because he was here. 

"Loki," you breathed.

"You look more beautiful than I ever could imagine." He stepped closer.

You touched your hair self-consciously. There were multiple knots, and it probably looked like one of those bird nests the dogs always knocked out of trees. You had woken up in a hurry and your hair being trapped in the hood of your cloak probably didn't help.

Then it occurred to you that you were wearing only your nightgown, and you tightly wrapped your cloak around yourself. Loki wouldn’t hurt you, but no man has seen you in an outfit so revealing. Still, you took another step closer.

"I do not know what to say." Fortunately, your voice didn’t shake or waver as you had feared, but Loki could probably feel your nervousness.

You both took a final step closer. You reached up and cupped Loki's face in your hand which tingled slightly when you made contact. You admired his sharp features and bright blue-green eyes. Then you shivered in the cold winter air. Loki noticed and pulled you into a hug. You leaned into him and felt a shiver, a different, better shiver, shoot through your body.

“You’re real.” Your soft voice was almost lost in the biting wind. “I was so scared that I was dreaming.”

Another goddamned dream about Loki? You groaned into your pillow and pushed a few damp strands of hair away from your face. Why now, all of a sudden? Was it because he was so close? Just a few hours upstate in the Avenger’s compound.

Pushing the dream aside, you stretched and got ready for the day. You had sent the photo to the Senator, who you had learned was very fucking corrupted, and he replied with a location. That changed your plans a bit, you hadn't physically met a client in decades, but it was for the better for multiple reasons.

The first reason was that the cafe he had chosen was next to a flower shop where you got your supply of roses. The second reason was that it meant his apartment would be empty. While you went to get the money, and eventually kill Senator Anderson, Max was going to rob his house. It wasn’t something you’d usually do, but honestly, the shitty asshole deserved it.

Your lips were painted red and you wore your usual boots and a leather jacket. Your regular hair was hidden behind a pink and green wig, courtesy of Max. A baseball cap and large sunglasses further hid your appearance. Though if somebody knew your face, the hat and glasses did nothing. There were multiple knives hidden on your body as well as a handgun tucked into your waistband and a pocket pistol in your, well, pocket.

As you walked into the cafe, Izzy, the auburn-haired florist, nodded to you. She had Botanokinesis, plant manipulation, so your supply of white roses was never low. Every once in a while, Izzy would take a job but she had told you she was very happy in her shop.

You noticed the Senator immediately. He still wore a suit and the sunglasses did nothing to hide his identity. There were two young women behind the counter and you suspected that the four other ‘customers’ were too buff not to be the Senator’s security. Anderson had his back to the door which meant you would have to get past his security to get out. You zeroed in on the black briefcase on the ground by his feet.

“Senator,” you greeted and sat down across from him.

“You can’t possibly be the one I talked to,” the asshole replied. “You’re just a girl.”

“Well of course I couldn’t be,” you rolled your eyes behind your heavily tinted glasses. “My boss is too busy and smart to meet you in public.” He didn’t notice your sarcasm. You pulled out the burner phone and showed him the messages as proof. “Now, I’m also busy so if we can get this over with?”

“Sure, darling.” He put the briefcase flat on the table and pushed it towards you.

“Open it.” Even though small boobie traps wouldn’t hurt you much, it wasn’t a piece of information you wanted to give him.

Anderson sighed and complied. Then you turned it around to quickly inspect the contents. One thousand one hundred dollar bills. Hello Mr. Franklin. You nodded in satisfaction and comically rubbed your hands together to inconspicuously grab a knife that was hidden up your sleeve.

“Thank you, Senator. That will be all.”

You closed the case, stood up, and plunged your knife deep into his left carotid artery. As his security descended upon you, you pulled the knife out and his neck satisfyingly squirted blood. The Senator collapsed with his hands clutching his wound desperately. The pool of blood rapidly grew underneath him.

The two baristas screamed behind the counter and the Senator’s security drew their guns. You flipped the small table for cover as bullets pierced the cafe’s window behind you. Perfect. Just a bit more.

You pulled out the handgun from your waistband and with practiced ease, shot three of the four goons. The last one got the bloodied knife to the face. You elbowed the already damaged window and it finally broke, raining glass down on you. Ignoring the small cuts, you jumped out of the cafe through the window as a familiar red and gold suit landed in front of you. Why the fuck were the Avengers here? What about Loki?

You darted into Izzy’s shop and she played her part well, screaming that you had run out the back when you had actually gone into the side room. You listened as the Avengers followed her directions. One person, maybe it was the Black Widow, stayed behind to help calm down the seemingly hysterical Izzy. If she wasn’t so happy at her shop and she didn’t want to work directly for you, she could be a great actress.

You rolled back the rug on the ground to reveal a metal trapdoor. You entered the code to unlock it and climbed down into the darkness. Behind you, you heard the trapdoor’s magnetic lock click back into place. Two centuries ago, you had tunnels dug underneath Manhattan, Brooklyn, and Queens for easy getaways. If you went… that way, you would end up in Sandra’s souvenir shop which was a couple of blocks away from your penthouse.

With a million dollars in one hand and a handgun in the other, you walked down the concrete tunnel.

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Taglist:

@kaithehero @liliannyah​ @andreasworlsboring101 @oatballsoffury​ @aberrant-annie

#inhuman #loki x reader #loki x soulmate reader #loki #mcu #marvel #avengers #Captain america #steve rogers #iron man #tony stark #hawkeye #clint barton #natasha romanoff #black widow #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch

[wlntrsldler]

May I Ask (Bucky Barnes Imagine)

Prompt: You and Bucky broke up a few months ago. Conveniently enough, he gets called out to an undercover mission and you were spared from seeing him everywhere you went... until he gets back and suddenly all the feelings are back.

Based on the song May I Ask by Luke Chiang

-

May I ask you how you've been

Would I have the words to say

I've forgotten how to feel

How to call you by your name

You froze once you saw those blue eyes that you tried so hard to forget the past three months. There he was. 

Bucky.

His gaze fell upon you, his lips slightly parted like he wanted to say something. It was you who broke the stare first, starting to feel a growing pain in your gut. What was he doing back?

“Bucky’s assignment is finished,” Steve said, as if he was reading your thoughts. “He took down a HYDRA base on his own.”

“Yeah, only took him three months.” Sam scoffed, trying to lighten the mood with a joke. “Would’ve taken me a month, tops, if you sent me out there.”

Bucky let out a dry chuckle, scratching the back of his neck. His eyes dropped to the floor, not knowing if it was even okay for him to address you. He knew how cruel he’d been in your last interaction. Tear stained cheeks, red lips, and that vein on the side of his neck that pops out when he’s angry. God, he thought, I was such an asshole. “Yeah, I guess I was a little distracted.”

“Distracted or not, you got the job done, Buck.” Steve smiled, sympathetically, patting his best friend on the back. His attention shifted to you. You were still in the same spot, frozen and unable to move. It was like your body abandoned you to suffer under the tension. “Y/N, do you want some donuts? Me and Bucky picked some up on the way over here.”

“No, I’m okay.” You managed to utter out. You finally got yourself to move from the spot, walking over to the coffee maker and making yourself a cup. You could feel his eyes on you, you never had to look up to know he was watching you. 

“C’mon, Y/N! It’s from that donut place you really like.” 

You shot an apologetic smile at Steve, trying so hard not to let your eyes drift over to the man beside him. “No, Steve, I’m really okay.”

You began to walk away after adding cream and sugar to your coffee. You bare feet felt like you were walking on ice against the cold, tile floor of the kitchen. You sighed slightly when your hands gripped the warm sides of your mug, bringing you a sense of comfort.

“Y/N.”

You winced at the sound of your name. The room fell silent. You knew exactly which lips spoke your name. It was the lips you used to roll over and kiss every morning, not caring about your morning breath or the mess you two made from the previous night’s activities. It was the lips that were attached to the man with the most beautiful laugh and smile that could light up a night sky. It was those goddamn pink lips of the man you still loved and cared for, despite his harsh words and cold shoulder.

“I got your favorite one.”

You turned around, your eyes brimming with tears. A small, sad smile formed on your lips, the corners barely having enough strength to quirk up on their own. “No thanks, Bucky. I appreciate the gesture.”

Barely recognize you now

All your words have turned to stone

You've forgotten all my songs

You've forgotten all my love

You had spent the past three months sulking and crying at the fact that Bucky had left you. That night was something you never expected from him. 

His eyes were cold when he looked at you. His eyebrows were furrowed in anger, his lips quivering as he yelled at you with his chest, and his demeanor was distant. He paced up and down the room you two shared, silently apologizing to Steve who lived under the two of you for his heavy footsteps. He was mad. Upset. Angry. All of the above.

You had never seen him that way and you never expected that he would ever be that way with you. You sat there on your bed, making yourself look as small as you felt at that moment. Your chest was rising up and down, not being able to hold back the choking sobs that threatened your throat. 

“We should break up, Y/N.”

That was the last sentence you two shared before he left for his mission. 

Replaying the night in your head still gave you chills every time. Even if the memory took place three months ago, the images were still so vivid in your mind. Every night consisted of that memory sneaking into your dreams, never letting you enjoy a peaceful rest. And God knows you need one.

“Y/N?”

A soft knock on your door caused you to snap out of your thoughts. Wanda was behind the door. She had a sheepish smile on her face, one hand on the doorknob while another held a white, ceramic plate with your favorite donut on top. 

She walked towards you, placing the plate beside your coffee. “How you feeling, hun?”

“Alright, I guess,” You sat up, hunching over as you sat cross legged on your bed. “I just.. I didn’t expect to see him there.”

“Trust me, we were pretty pissed off at Steve when he brought Bucky back without telling the rest of us first.” Wanda stroked your hair, letting you lean on her chest. “Steve thought that if you and Bucky saw each other for the first time without notice, you’d magically make up.”

You snorted, “For a man who’s lived for over a hundred years, he sure still don’t know a lot about women.”

“Say it again, sister.” She replied, smiling when she felt you laugh against her. “Talk to me, sweets.”

“Steve was right in some way.” You started to explain, sitting up and facing her. “My feelings... the ones I’ve suppressed for the past three months came rushing back the minute I saw him, Wanda.”

She nodded in understanding, reaching over to rub her thumb across your knee, a sign for you to continue.

“Somehow, it felt like the past three months didn’t actually happen. It was like the fight was just yesterday and today was just the day after- the day where we kiss and make up and just be in love again.” You felt your voice crack. You gulped, blinking back the tears that wanted to release themselves. “But I know it’s not true. He was determined to leave me, Wands. It’s not the same anymore.”

Don't you know

You make me nervous still

You pull my thoughts apart

Though I've been tryna get you off my mind

Wanda left your side after a few more minutes of talking. She knew how much you valued your alone time, a time for you to gather your thoughts and try to make sense of it. 

You leaned over and reached for your coffee. You brought the cup up to your lips, too preoccupied with your thoughts to notice the lack of steam radiating off your drink. You grimaced when the cold coffee hit your tongue. 

You got up, deciding to put the coffee in the microwave to heat it up again. Halfway out the door, you remembered the donut sitting by your bedside. You stood silent in your spot before deciding to take the donut with you.

You peeked around the corner, sighing in relief upon finding the kitchen empty. You were glad you didn’t have to see anyone yet, you weren’t ready. You placed the donut on the counter and placed your cup in the microwave. You set it for 30 seconds and turned your back to look at the delicious treat on the plate. 

Bucky was right, it is your favorite donut. He bought it for you on your first date and ever since then, whenever you were craving something sweet, he would take you to the donut shop to lift your spirits. He watched your eyes sparkle with joy every time he would pull into the parking lot of the shop. No matter what day, what occasion, he knew you would order the same donut he got for you on your first date. 

You picked up the donut, taking a bite from the pastry. You moaned in satisfaction, remembering the familiar taste tingling on your taste buds. You felt yourself smile as the taste brought back various memories. Some memories were post-mission, early morning errand runs, post-sex, period cravings, the taste of the donut brought you back to the times that you yearned for.

You heard the microwave beep and you put the donut down to take your coffee out. You had originally meant to put the donut back in the box but now you couldn’t help but bring it back to your room with you. You walked back, silently wishing for the possibility of you and Bucky returning to how you used to be as you walked down the hallway, a warm cup of coffee and a half eaten donut in hand.

Give me time

Cause it still burns my lips

To say your name out loud, my love

Bucky had been back in the tower for two weeks. You did your best to avoid him, not really knowing what to say if you stumbled upon him. Were you supposed to ask him how he’s doing? Ask about his mission? Ask about why he decided to end things? Or were you meant to act like strangers, asking about the weather or the score of some game on TV?

The spacious tower soon started to feel claustrophobic. Bucky seemed to pop up in the same spaces you were at. At times, you’d make your way to one of the many training rooms of the tower, only to find him there, already training inside. You would sneak out to the roof at 3 in the morning to clear your head, and he would be there, looking up at the stars while leaning on the protective railing. You would try to go out for a dip in the pool, in cold weather, only to find him emerging from the water. 

You would leave before he noticed you, still unsure what you would even say. You were sure he’d been doing the same. 

One time, you were sitting in the lounge with Steve, your back facing the doorway. You were in the middle of a conversation when you saw Steve’s eyebrows furrow and a frown tugged on his lips. You strategically pretended to fix the couch cushion you were leaning on as an excuse to look back. You swore you saw Bucky’s figure disappear into the darkness of the hallway.

It was hard to even think about speaking to him. There was a pain in your chest whenever you tried to say his name out loud. The morning when he first arrived cost you all the strength you built up over the past few months not to break down in tears right there and then. Of course you felt pathetic about it. You were a kickass agent, smart in the office, smarter in the field, and yet here you were. Somehow, you always forgot how to speak or how to let your mind control your actions whenever Bucky was around. 

And you hated it.

And by now your smile has changed

You don't look at me the same

It's naive of me to think

That one day you'll miss my name

“This is getting ridiculous now, Y/N.” Wanda sighed, shooting you a look of disappointment from your vanity chair. “You have to talk to him. You can’t avoid him forever.”

“I will make-do with however long forever might be.” You stated, scrolling through your twitter timeline. “I’ll avoid him as long as I possibly can.”

“That’s not very healthy.”

“Look, Wands,” You sighed, turning off your phone and chucking it on your bed. “The only reason why I haven’t bursted out in tears in front of him yet is well, because I haven’t been in front of him. I promise you, the minute he says my name or touches me, I’m gonna burst into tears.” You looked at her. “And that, my dear, is not a good look.”

“You don’t think you two should talk about what happened?” She pressed, eyebrow cocked in genuine curiosity. “I mean, it seemed pretty abrupt..”

“Abrupt is one way to put it,” You mumbled, picking your phone up again. “Weird, unexpected, bullshit, are words that seem to be more up my alley.”

You silently apologized to Steve for your use of language but you couldn’t help it. It’s true. The way Bucky had broken things off was utter bullshit, in your opinion. You woke up beside each other the morning prior, lovingly staring into each other’s eyes, having to quite literally, drag him out of bed to get ready for the day. He was clinging onto you, a lazy arm draped over your waist, his face nuzzled in your hair, and his lips brushing against your earlobe. Bucky whispered sweet nothings in your ear, making you blush like a teenage girl. The Bucky Steve used to go on and on about, the Bucky that he was before HYDRA, showed himself to you during your private moments.

He groaned in annoyance when you got up from his reach, his tired body plopping down on the white sheets once you left. You giggled, looking back at the mess of hair buried in your pillow.

“Come on, Buck,” You sighed, walking over to him and rubbing the upper half of his back. “We have to work.”

“Can’t we call in sick?” He asked, looking up at you with his puppy eyes. His eyes were so blue, so bright, and if you didn’t know him, you would have never guessed the trauma he endured. His eyes still held onto that innocence, that sparkle, that was locked and trapped inside him all those years.

“We could,” You trailed off, laughing softly as he perked up at your words. “But, we work in the same building we live in. If we call in sick, they’ll come marching up here and we’ll get busted.”

“That’s not fair.” He huffed, finally getting up from bed to join you in getting ready. “How come we don’t get any sick days?”

“People like me, do.” You teased, wrapping your arms around his torso. You always had to look up at him. He towered over you and he absolutely loved it. It always made him feel like he could protect you and you weren’t opposed to the idea. “Heroes like you, don’t. There’s no sick days for superheroes. Just ask Tony.”

You remembered the first time you called Bucky a hero and how his face fell at the mention of the word. When you first met Bucky, he was new to the tower, to the generation, and well, to the life. He was so used to being feared that he didn’t know how to process the idea that he, Bucky Barnes turned Winter Soldier, was someone people ran to, instead of running away from. You remembered the way his hand flinched under your touch once the word left your lips and how he looked down, in shame, mumbling something like, “I’m not a hero.”

You made it your mission to make him see just how much of a hero he really was. As time went on, the real Bucky Barnes started to show himself. And soon, he started to accept your praises and compliments. He didn’t necessarily believe them, and quite frankly, he doesn’t think he ever will, but the fact that he no longer flinched under your touch was a win in your book. 

Promises you said you'd keep

Empty lines between the scenes

Was it wrong for me to trust

I'm still only seventeen

“When are you gonna tell her the truth, Bucky?” Steve asked, growing frustrated at his best friend’s stubbornness. “Y/N has the right to know.”

“Steve, how many times do I have to tell you?” Bucky glared at his friend from across the room. “I can’t tell her. It’s too dangerous.”

“So what? You’re just gonna push her away and make her think you’re just this asshole that left her for no good reason?” He scoffed, pacing towards Bucky. He shoved him lightly, not enough to get a reaction out of him but enough to snap Bucky out of his thoughts. “You know I hate keeping secrets. Who knows the truth?”

“In the tower? Me, you and Fury.” Bucky said. “Shuri and T’Challa too, but we don’t have to worry about them.”

“I guess,” Steve sighed, slowly giving up on his friend. “I hope you tell Y/N the truth, Buck. You’re both miserable and keeping this from her is only hurting the both of you.”

Bucky watched Steve walk away after a quick pat on the back. He shot his best friend a sympathetic smile before disappearing into the elevator. 

Bucky knew Steve was right. You did deserve to know the truth. The three months that he was gone, he felt the weight of his guilt eating him up alive. You didn’t deserve that. And he knew, now more than ever, that he didn’t deserve you.

It’s not like he planned to break up with you. If it were up to him, he would marry you and spend the 70 years he missed out on, tucked right under your arm and even more, if you allowed it. He would spend every waking moment with you. He would kiss those lips every morning when he woke and every night before he slept. He would grow old with you, like actually grow old, and watch your kids and grandkids trick or treat in their Avengers costumes. He wanted to experience life with you. A normal life.

But a normal life was one out of his reach.

The day before he ended things with you, he was sent out with Steve on a mission to infiltrate a HYDRA base, orders by Fury. The mission was a simple one: destroy the base, no questions asked. It was supposed to be a quick in and out mission. Bucky didn’t know what happened or how it happened but all of a sudden he woke up strapped to a chair. Then the words that caused him to turn into the monster he tried to forget, started to ring in his ears. 

He doesn’t remember much else but waking up on the jet beside Steve as he commanded it, strapped up against his chair. He looked down at his metal arm, eyes widening when he saw the dried blood staining the silver metal. “Steve, what did I do?”

“Bucky...” Steve trailed off.

Bucky cut him off, his head shaking in disbelief. “Steve, cut the bullshit. What did I do?”

For the next twenty minutes, Steve explained to Bucky how he got captured by HYDRA agents and how his trigger words were said. Bucky turned into the Winter Soldier and helped the HYDRA boss escape. Steve explained how he stopped him before he could escape with Bucky. 

“It took a while and a few punches,” Steve smiled, turning his head to show Bucky the cut on his left cheekbone. “But we snapped you out of it.”

Bucky looked down at his hands, his throat suddenly feeling too dry. Once they landed back at the tower, he was thankful that you were still out completing your mission. He marched straight to Fury’s office, asking to be sent to Wakanda to accept the treatment that they offered in the past. 

“We don’t even know what can happen to you.” Fury explained. “It’s dangerous, Barnes.” 

“I’m dangerous.” Bucky hissed. “I-I can’t live like this anymore. I want out.”

Don't you know

You make me nervous still

You pull my thoughts apart

Though I've been tryna get you off my mind

It was Steve who dropped him off at Wakanda.

“Thank you for taking me here.” Bucky said, sheepishly. “And thank you for not telling Y/N what I’m doing.”

“Always, pal.” Steve pulled him in for a hug. “I still don’t understand why you can’t just tell Y/N the truth.”

“It’s better this way,” He sighed, looking back at Shuri and T’Challa, who were patiently waiting for him. “I need to stay focused for this to work and I know I won’t be able to focus with Y/N here.”

Steve nodded in understanding, giving his best friend one last smile before he left for three months.

The three months in Wakanda were filled with experiments, pain, and determination. Bucky came to Wakanda with a mission- to erase those trigger words and erase the Winter Soldier from himself. He didn’t want to be a killing machine anymore. He didn’t want to take the risk of turning into HYDRA again.

All he could think about was how he almost killed his best friend, again, and how it took ten people to bring him back to himself. He thought about the times where he fought beside the rest of the Avengers, the only time he truly felt like he belonged somewhere, rather than to someone. And you. God, he thought about you all the time. He thought about the disappointment in your eyes if you found out what he did to Steve. He thought about your quivering lip as he yelled at you right before he left. He thought about the way he literally saw your heart break when he told you he wanted to end things. 

He didn’t want to do any of that but he knew it would be better to save you from himself. He can’t ever forgive himself if you were the one he hurt. 

“What’s on your mind, Mr. Barnes?” Shuri asked, tapping on her screen, barely looking up to meet his eyes.

“Bucky,” He corrected. “And nothing, is there anything you’d like for me to do before we end today’s session?”

“Hmm, nothing, for now. I believe we’re good.” 

Bucky gave a small nod, hopping off the hospital bed and headed for the door. 

“Oh actually, Bucky?”

He turned around in his tracks to see the young woman smiling from ear to ear. She tapped on the screen, a large hologram of you, smiling up at him displayed on it. “She’s beautiful.”

Bucky blushed, completely forgetting about how his entire stream of consciousness and unconsciousness was being downloaded onto their systems. It helped Shuri get a better understanding on how she can control the way the trigger words affects him. He mumbled a shy, “Thanks,” and walked out of the hospital. 

He missed you. So much. 

Give me time

Cause it still burns my lips

To say your name out loud, my love

When Shuri had called Steve and told him that they were doing the final test, the man got to Wakanda in record time. 

“Okay, Bucky,” Shuri looked at him for approval. “You ready?”

“Yes.” 

Bucky closed his eyes, waiting to feel the familiar feeling of losing control. Shuri recited the words, heart beating in her chest. Bucky was too nervous to truly listen to what was happening. In his mind, all that flashed were memories with Steve, the team, and with you. He remembered your words of adoration against his lips in the middle of the night and the soft confessions that you recited when you thought he was asleep. He thought of you pulling him closer to your body while you slept, loving the feeling of his chest rising against your cheek.

You were the one that taught him what love truly is. You loved him despite his flaws, sometimes he felt like you loved him because of his flaws. It was a concept that was foreign to him. He could never understand how someone like you could love all of him- the broken, the cracked, the wrecked- you loved it all with no hesitation. You were special to him, that’s why he would never forgive himself if he hurt you. 

“Bucky?”

He opened his eyes, “Yeah?”

He didn’t have time to react before Steve ran to him, embracing him, nearly suffocating him. “It worked, Buck. You’re free.”

Bucky sat frozen for a second as Steve let him go. Steve’s smile was unrecognizable. He had never seen him smile so wide. His eyes flickered past Steve’s broad shoulders and landed on Shuri who sported the same smile, two thumbs up in the air. Bucky’s eyes widened, “I’m free?”

The two nodded their heads, tears welling up in their eyes. “You didn’t even realize we finished reciting the words.”

“I’m free.” Bucky looked down at his hands. The metal squeaked as he moved his fingers. His eyes welled up with tears, his whole body feeling like it was about to burst. “I’m free.”

Steve took him back to the tower the day after the test. Shuri and T’Challa gave Bucky a new arm, one that didn’t remind him of his past with HYDRA. The jet ride back home consisted of laughter, jokes, and constant, “I’m so happy.” phrases from the two boys.

Bucky was finally free.

It's just my natural reaction to you

Making me feel like I've lost sanity

And I can't help but to miss you though I know there's never a chance

“The truth?” You asked, stepping into the light. “What the hell is the truth, Bucky?”

Bucky sucked in a breath once he realized it was you who was speaking to him. He didn’t realize you were hiding behind the wall as he spoke to Steve. “Y/N...”

“What the hell are you keeping from me?”

Bucky looked at you. It was the first time since he got back that he allowed himself to. You lost weight. Your face seemed hollow, like the life had left your body. Your eyes were lined by darkness. He cursed himself, knowing that he was the reason why you were feeling his way. 

“Nothing, Y/N.” He responded, already making his way towards the elevator to avoid any other questions.

“No,” You called out. “You don’t get to walk away from me again. I won’t let you this time.”

The crack in your voice is what made him turn around and stay in the room. You sounded so broken. And you were. You kept replaying the slam of the door and the sound of Bucky’s heavy footsteps fading as he walked further and further away from your bedroom. You shook your head, hoping that the images would leave your mind. 

“Y/N,” Bucky whimpered, suddenly wanting nothing else but to come clean and hold you in his arms. He missed your warmth. He missed your smile. He missed your kisses. He missed you. “I can’t tell you. I have to protect you.”

“I don’t need your protection.”

“You don’t understand.” 

“Then make me understand.” There was no anger in your voice, no bitterness. You were pleading, begging him to make the events of the last three months make sense because you were tired of being confused. You needed answers. You needed something. Anything. 

“Did you stop loving me, Buck?” The words rolled off your tongue, leaving cuts on your lips. It pained you to ask the question but if he wasn’t gonna tell you the answer himself, you had to ask him to make sense of it. “Is that it?”

“God, no,” Bucky shook his head, his long hair shaking along with him. He bit back his tongue, holding back the tears that threatened to spill. “I’m completely and utterly yours, Y/N. I’m so in love with you, it hurts sometimes.”

“Then what is it, goddamnit!” You yelled, walking over to him. He wasn’t making any sense. Why would he leave? Why would he end things? Why would he tell you he still loved you? “Bucky, talk to me! Make me understand what the hell is going on in that head of yours.”

He flinched as you raised your voice. He’s never seen this side of you. He started to feel how you must’ve felt the night he broke up with you. This pain in his heart, tugging at his heart strings. Bucky continued to shake his head. He reached out to grab a hold of your shoulders, steadying you. “I’m sorry, Y/N but I can’t.”

He walked away from you, once again, leaving you in your own thoughts, wondering where you went wrong. 

-

MASTERLIST

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[katsukikitten]

Hell Bound 2

Katsuki notices that with each howl of the wind you snuggle deeper into your scarf, often checking your jacket sleeve to make sure all of the buttons are secure. He knows that they are all neatly fastened as he did them himself but there was nothing he could do about the biting air seeping into your bones.

All the while you drink in the sight before you, thoughts swimming with the swirls of the ornate roof tops, staring up at the large gate to the shrine.

A harsh wind carries with it the threatening scent of snow causing your teeth to chatter, Bakugou elbows you then. Palm held upwards towards you. Hesitation grips onto your body as you look up into normally harsh scarlet eyes.

“I won’t bite, damn.” He says, nudging his open hand against your fist. You see a small blush creeping along his cheeks and take the rare opportunity to tease him.

“What if I want you to?” It comes out as a flirtatious purr, earning you a quick glance from Urarka-san who quickly turns away with flushed cheeks as she reads the language between you two.

A deadly smirk washes over his kissable lips as you take his palm, he leans in lips beside your ear as he speaks in a husky tone.

“Then I won’t disappoint.” What he wants to do is bite your ear then but instead he pulls you along towards the whole reason why you were here.

 The Ema are neatly stacked, both the clean slates and the filled ones as you approach the covered walls. Markers are piled nicely by the clean slates as you grab one, suddenly feeling the weight of all of the wishes in the open courtyard.

You stare at the small plank of wood before deciding on your wish.

Scarlet eyes watch closely as your fierce handwriting dances across the board.

‘Happiness for my friends’

His lip curls, as he is about to tell you that you’re supposed to wish good fortune for yourself he watches an idea form in your head. You grab for another board and try your best to hide what you are writing from your tethered friend.

‘A boyfriend too please I don’t need one but it would be nice’

He bites back his snort, watching you place it gently among the other planks when you turn to face him he acts disinterested, his free hand shoved deep into his pocket. He feels the chain pull as you reach for what he thinks is your third wish before he finds the wood being pressed into his chest.

“What’s this?” He snarls out of habit, somehow you do not shrink away or growl back as you normally do. He begins to wonder if all of this time bound together has gotten you so used to his gruff attitude.

“You have to make a wish too Katsu…” You clear your throat, “Bakugou.”

He stares down at you harshly, the capped marker and corner of the wood beginning to bite through his jacket, he sighs.

“You can say Katsuki ya brat.” He grabs for the wood with his left hand, “Now how am I supposed to write?”

“I’ll angle myself like this.” You turn your body closer to his blocking your left wrist and his right, “Now we look like an overly affectionate couple and people won’t look.”

You giggle at the end, he tells himself not to like the sound.

But one can only lie to themselves for so long. He stares down at the Ema not knowing what to wish for for the first time in his life.

Before he would have known what to write without question, ‘Number One Hero or else Kamisama’ but now he finds himself at loss.

Then the marker moves on its own as you furrow your brows in question.

‘I wish for her safety and happiness’

Had Bakugou have a crush that you were unaware of? Regardless you smile almost stunned that he would write a wish other than himself.

He places it then offers you his hand to which you take without any hesitation, snuggling into his warmth anytime the wind whipped through your jacket.

“Y/N! Y/N! Good news! Kirishima lied to Sensei and said his project was locked in the classroom. Sensei agreed to letting him in! Kirishima is going to grab random papers and the key tomorrow! Aren’t you excited?!” Mina throws herself onto you, flashing her boyfriend’s phone with waiting for approval.

“I think they are starting to look like a real couple though..” Denki says nudging Kirisima, earning a glare and an elbow to the ribs. Scarlet eyes gauge your reaction, your hand loosens just a hair, pulling Bakugou’s heart.

“It’s just pretend though….” You gulp, eyes holding some emotion that Katuski cannot place, “We actually don’t like each other much.”

With that Bakugou drops your hand barely letting his fingers brush against yours. Your heart sinks into the pit of your stomach, push past the feeling lacing your fingers back with his own.

He glares down at you with a heated gaze, if you ever had a chance before you sure as hell ruined it now. You gulp but choke on the lump in your throat as you’re guided to the train to return home.

💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣💣

 The day yawns into night, the two of you choosing to opt out of the festivities to count down the New Year and instead retreat to your room. Bakugou is far from tired despite today’s adventure and the lack of sleep the night before. He is tense as he replays the day, memories fixating on you from both lack of choice and repetition. He sighs when your skin brushes against his but he cannot deny that it relaxes him some. He fishes for his phone, using his left hand as much as he can to avoid disturbing you, that and he is not sure if he would be able to resist your touch should you curl any closer to him.

‘We actually don’t like each other much.’ The words echo in his head causing him to suck his teeth.

He scrolls idly trying to let social media consume him only for his feed to shove couple pictures down his throat. Todoroki and Momo at the shrine, Kirishima and Mina at the shrine.

Fucking Deku and Urarka at the shrine, he goes to exit out of the gram when he spies a picture of the two of you.

Looking every much a couple as the real ones. You’re looking up at him some type of way, your look softened and seemingly only for him. Your hands intertwined as he gazes down at you.

This was when you were pressing the Ema into his chest with blatant force.

Had you looked at him like that then?

Damn you were a good liar weren’t you?

He goes to the home screen searching for anything before he reluctantly plays an old mobile game.

Reluctant only because he has been stuck on this particular level for much longer than he’d like to admit. The colors of his screen start to catch your eye, capturing your attention as the answer jumps out at you. You take your cuffed hand and swipe across the glass before it flashes three out of three stars.

“Oooii”,” He growls but begins to fly through the levels behind it, “Did ya fucking look it up?”

You giggle that damn giggle again before turning your attention to your own phone.

“No, just a fresh perspective.” You begin tapping at your screen smiling as you do. Curiosity gets the better of Bakugou as he grabs for your phone.

“OI!” It is your turn to shout as he holds the phone away from you, pressing yourself into his body as you attempt to reach your phone, “Stop!”

“Why? I just want to give you some fresh perspective on your game.” He smiles wickedly before turning the screen to face him. He blinks slowly as he digests what is on the screen. An animated man dressed to the nines, a slight flush to his cheeks. Obviously trying to avoid whatever affection MC is giving him.

“Is this one of those fucking OTME games?” He snorts, “You get the recommendation from Denki?”

This time he laughs and embarrassment melds hot with rage in your cheeks. Scarlet eyes rove over the three options as your fist finds his solar plexus.

“OOOF”

You snatch your phone before settling down, he turns onto his side to watch you play. You glare at him as he gestures for you to go on before you stare at your screen. Unsure what option to pick, five minutes tick by.

“Oi, what are you waiting for?” He hisses interest fading fast, you bare your teeth at him before admitting.

“Look, this is the character I’m after…” Before you can finish he picks the middle option, you’re furious, there is no replaying this scene without starting over. If this leads you to a bad ending you’ll just have to kill Bakugou Katsuki.

Where you expected a shake of the tough guys head instead comes a bigger flush.

‘B..baka…Don’t say such things so frivolously…’

You watch the screen flash the character’s main portrait with the intimacy level filling all the way up. Something you had yet to be able to do.

“How did you…” You stare as you begin to prepare for the next part of the story.

“He’s a fucking tsundure. They act all tough but they’re all soft and shit.” He yawns as he watches you play quietly for the next twenty minutes. The men on the screen seem to pine for your attention, saying all sorts of devotions. Were you always this hungry for attention and affection?

You didn’t act like it during class or even when Denki tried to ask you out. In fact you seemed cold only ever spiking any sort of emotion when you were around Bakugou.

And that was solely ever wrath or rage.

The thought snakes its way to his heart, coiling it in a tight vice. He swallows thickly, it does nothing to alleviate the pain in his chest.

“Is this what you want in a boyfriend?” He asks aloud, he notices the dusting on your cheeks.

“Well…” You start but cannot bring yourself to finish. Your man of choice flashes across the screen. Hand held out, eyes averted as he says something so damn sweet. Bakugou sucks his teeth beside you.

“I could be a better boyfriend.” He selects your option for you again, you think for sure he is going to sabotage it this time, but your “intimacy” levels all the way up once again. You side eye him while crimson eyes bore into your screen.

“You? A boyfriend?”

He thinks of your wish, he thinks it wouldn’t be so bad to fulfill it. Shit he had to be better than a virtual one.

Then again a virtual one hardly ever had a real temper.

“Yes me, a boyfriend.” Is his only reply. Your brain goes into hyper drive as you let the question sink in.

“Wa…wait are you asking me out?”

“FIVE!” The rest of the class downstairs begins to shout, reaching all the way up to the two of you enveloped in the intimacy of your room. Somehow you deepen in hue as you become hyperaware of your proximity

He holds your gaze carefully biting the inside of his lip.

“FOUR!”

“Depends, you might not like me once we are uncuffed. You claimed you’d rather be tethered to grape shit head than me. ‘We don’t like each other much.’” His voice dips dangerously low as he repeats your words back. He tucks some hair behind your ear as your heart races.

“THREE”

“I…” Words lodge in your throat.

“TWO”

He can no longer deny that he wants to be some sort of happiness in your life, especially so after seeing that you’d rather turn towards a program than a human being for any sort of affection. He watches your lips in the low light, you do not speak further but you do not avert your gaze.

“ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!” The rest of the class screams from the common room. Bakugou’s body moves on its own accord as he leans in kissing you gently, bringing in the new year with you. He goes to pull away, staring into your glittering eyes, stomach twisting as he thinks of your laugh

Of your smile

And how selfishly he wants it all for himself.

“The offer still stands after we are freed tomorrow.” With that he turns onto his side giving you his back.

‘B…baka’  Your phone echoes out in the darkness, you lock the screen and stare at the ceiling as if it had the answers.

It gives you nothing but more questions in return.

#bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bnha au #bnha imagine #bnha otme #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo

[captain-mcdavid]

word count: 3.3k

smut: yes | no

warnings: drinking, swearing, yelling, angst

You panicked as soon as you read the message, and then you calmed down a little when you realized what time it came in. His last message was sent forty five minutes ago. If he left when he said he did, he would have gotten here before you.

You pointlessly look out the window and down at the street, you can make out most of the cars and none of them look like his. And, if he was actually here, he’d need to get buzzed in.

The second that thought crosses your mind your stomach drops. If he left when he said he did, he would have gotten here when Lindsay was here. What if she talked to him? What if she spun some other web of twisted lies and that’s why he left?

You’re taking off out the door before you can stop yourself, she’s still waiting by the elevators, and you’re shouting down the hall like a maniac before she can leave, “Was Josh here?”

“Huh?” She responds, and you roll your eyes, your psycho bitch making an appearance when you find yourself laughing.

“Was Josh here? He texted me to say he was coming over, did he? And don’t even think about lying, I’ve had enough with your mind games.” You’re speaking a mile a minute, and Lindsay looks stunned at all the words coming out of your mouth.

“No,” She spits out. “He wasn’t here.”

You study her face, waiting to see if there’s any indication of her being untruthful but she looks serious, so you turn around and start back to your place.

“Oh and by the way,” You’ve barely even gotten a foot away when her ratchet voice stops you again, “If I’m never gonna see you again then you could use some advice, so listen carefully.”

You turn to look back and you feel like you’re in high school, getting publicly harassed by a mean girl. You should ignore her and leave cause there’s no where you’re walking out of this without crying, or getting arrested, but you can’t seem to be able to move. “I’m not the only person that’s fucked you over. Josh played you just as much as I did, and yeah we might be in the wrong, but so are you. You did nothing to help yourself. You’re naive as hell and that’s why shitty things keep happening to you.” The elevator doors open as if on queue and she steps in, and you pray to god that that’s the last time you’ll ever have to see her.

As much as you know you shouldn’t listen to her sociopathic rambling, you can’t help but replay her words in your head, and they sting. You’d never considered yourself naive before, but you were beginning to realize, as much as you hated to admit it, that Lindsay was kind of right.

When you tried to convince her that Josh felt the same way about you she had said, “I’m just trying to guard your heart since you don’t seem to be.” Those words had no true emotion besides vengeance behind them, but they were still true. You weren’t guarding your heart, you had no defences.

You went into the relationship the second time with an agenda, but as soon as you felt the slightest bit of reciprocation from Josh you went all in with no reservations, the exact same way that you did the first time. You had to admit you were setting yourself up for hurt, you knew what Josh was capable of, you should have gone in with more guard.

You’re so overwhelmed with emotions that it’s exhausting. You’re sad, and angry, and you’re feeling pretty stupid too, but you’re also just as confused. Where is Josh?

He should be here by now...

As mad as you are it’s hard not to be a little worried, what if something happened?

Against your better judgement you send a quick text, a simple question mark that after a half hour receives no reply.

The ice cream you’re eating isn’t doing much to take your mind off of the current situation. You shouldn’t do it, but your actions are purely based off of worry, so you press the little phone button by his contact. It rings through, then goes to voicemail, and you’re left yet again wondering what’s going on.

After more ice cream and countless episodes of friends, it’s four forty five in the morning, and you’ve convinced yourself that if something bad happened to Josh, you would have heard from someone by now, and you fall asleep.

The next days proceedings include work, and then most of yesterday’s activities, eating ice cream and watching reruns of old shows. Its bittersweet to see all of Lindsay’s things gone, the apartment looks empty and for the first time since she left, you actually take a minute to mourn the loss of a friend.

Sitting on the undressed bed in her empty room brings tears to your eyes, and for about a half hour you just sit and cry. Before you knew about her backstabbing ways you considered her your best friend. She was the person you turned to for everything, and now she was gone. Who are you supposed to lean on now?

Your pity party doesn’t stop there either. It’s not a good idea. Really, it’s not even remotely smart but you do it anyway. The ice cream isn’t making a dent in your feelings but maybe vodka will.

Drinking alone is a new low for you, but in your messed up mind what you’re feeling warrants it.

You’ve lost count of the amount of alcohol you’ve had at about six pm. And because drinking alone isn’t bad enough you might as well add day drunk to the mix too right?

You’re drunk dialing someone, but your mind doesn’t catch up to your actions until the phone is lifted to your ear, and when her sweet voice sounds on the other end, you break down in tears almost right away. “Mom,”

“Y/N?” She says, “Y/N, honey are you crying?”

You nod, even though she can’t hear, and she still keeps rambling. “Y/N talk to me, tell me what’s wrong,”

In one big long run on sentence you tell her everything that’s happened in the last two days leaving out the last two months, and she’s silent for about a minute once you finish,

“Oh honey,” She sighs finally, “I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Mom, I love him.” The words come out fast and you’re just as surprised to hear them as she is. Did you really just say that?

“Aw baby,” She says, and you just wish that she was here in person to hold you. “I think you should talk to him. Tell him how you feel, maybe there’s something you don’t know.”

“Do you think?” You choke, hiccuping in between words. “I thought you’d tell me to move on,”

“Sweetie, I can’t do that. Believe me I’m not this guys biggest fan at the moment but everyone deserves a chance to explain themselves. Maybe it isn’t as bad as it seems.”

You hiccup over the phone, biting your nails while you murmur out, “You think?”

“I hope.” She reiterates, “You never know unless you try.”

You breathe out a little chuckle at the end, biting the inside of your cheek before you whisper out, “Yeah I guess.”

“I wish I could give you a hug,” She says, and you smile at the thought. “Do you want me to come over?”

Yes is your first thought but there’s something you need to do, so with a small smile you say, “No ma, that’s okay. Thank you though. I love you,”

“I love you too sweetheart,” She says, and then you’re hanging up the phone, getting to your feet while you down the rest of the mixed drink in your hand. Moms always give the best advice so this was obviously the best decision.

You must look like an absolute train wreck to other people, stumbling out of your building and into an Uber, so obviously drunk on a Wednesday evening. As if you hadn’t already stacked up enough lows for the day, you’re adding another. Not only are you piss drunk by yourself, you’re piss drunk by yourself on a weekday. You probably couldn’t look any worse right now.

You can’t even imagine what your uber driver is thinking...

The ride is long and awkward but when you finally make it to Josh’s building, you step out of the car feeling like a million bucks. His car is in the parking lot, so he’s home, the sour feeling in your stomach that comes from drinking too much has settled and you’re just tanked enough to not give a shit that you look like a complete mess.

Your mood disintegrates almost immediately though because for the second time you forgot that you needed to be rung up. You stand blankly, staring at the door while you try to decide if you should actually do this.

You release a big puff of air before straightening your posture and dialling Josh’s apartment. It rings three times and then the message button sounds and words are fluttering out of your mouth before you can even stop them.

“Okay look I know you’re mad at me and I’m mad at you, both of us are mad and we both have every right to be. I did a shitty thing and so did you, but as mad as I am, and I am. I’m like seriously mad, I know because now when I picture your stupid cute face I don’t wanna smoosh it, I want to slap it, but despite all that, I want to fix things because I accidentally told my mom I loved you. So can you please just let me up?”

When you finish you’re out of breath, and there’s no response. You sigh deeply and then turn around, jumping when you see a very confused looking man behind you.

He has keys for the building in his hand, and judging by the look on his face, he heard absolutely everything you just told Josh’s ringer.

His eyes flick to the sign plastered on the door, in big letters it reads, “Do they live here? Holding the door for strangers: Its not polite, it’s dangerous. Help keep our building safe.”

You smile sheepishly, and he cautiously walks towards the building.

You watch as he opens the door, studying you from head to toe while you look back with a hopeful glance.

He sighs and then rolls his eyes, “You’re not a serial killer?”

You shake your head with a sweet smile and saunter in, quickening your step once you’re in the building. “Thank you so much. I promise you won’t have any trouble from me!” You opt for the stairs instead of taking the elevator with him, hopping two steps at a time to get up to Josh’s as soon as possible, only to stop at the top to catch your breathe before knocking on his door.

You tap gingerly at first, talking quietly through the barrier. “Josh, I know you’re in there. Please open the door I just wanna talk.”

This goes on for about two minutes before you give in and bang louder, nearly yelling. “Josh! Open the damn door. You said you wanted this solved and I’m trying but I can’t do that if I’m out here!”

When there’s once again, no response, you take to slamming your fist against the wood repeatedly. Someone is probably gonna yell at you for this but you really don’t care.

You’re just about to open your mouth again when someone yells your name from a few doors down. You look to your right, and Seth is standing in his doorway, looking at you like you’ve lost your mind. And you pretty well have. “What the hell are you doing?” He asks, walking towards you.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” You fire back. Raising your hand to knock again, but Seth is quicker, grabbing your wrist before it can make contact.

“Are you drunk?” Seth asks, and you groan at how condescending he sounds.

“Yes,” You admit, “But I don’t need a lecture, okay? It’s been a shitty day, I just needed to take the edge off.”

“Looks like you’ve taken off a lot more than just the edge.” Seth observes, and you shrug.

“I might have drank half a bottle of vodka, but that’s none of your business.” You stab a finger at his chest.

“I’m not even gonna ask how big the bottle was.” Seth whispers, and you almost laugh.

“That’s probably a good idea,” You say, lifting your hand to knock again. “Josh!” You yell, and Seth shushes you.

“He’s not here.” Seth says, and you look up at him with an eye roll.

“Well then where is he-“ You’re in the middle of your sentence when you actually look at him, and when you see his eye, your stomach drops. His entire eye socket is coloured a dark purple, and you actually feel sick. That looks to you like an angry right hook from Josh.

“Seth, holy shit, what happened to your face?” You’re praying to god that his answer is not what you know it will be.

He looks at you with grave eyes, and shakes his head. “Do you really have to ask?”

You can see it vividly in your head, and it hurts to even think about it. “I don’t-,” You start, your voice coming out shaky. “I don’t get it. How?”

“He saw your purse by the door when he came in.”

“Seth,” You reach out to touch his arm but he calmly steps back, avoiding your gaze. “I’m so sorry. I should never have come last night,”

He just shrugs and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I can fix this Seth. I just need to talk to him. Where is he?”

“Y/N, he left.”

“Yeah,” You say dumbly, “But where did he go? I’ll just wait until he’s back or something-“

“He left, as in he went home. He’s gone for the summer.”

You nearly choke on Seth’s words, you can’t even process what you’re feeling but tears are brimming your eyes already. “He...” You suck in a staggered breath and swipe away the tear that falls, “H-he left?”

“It’s for the best.” Seth says, and you cover your mouth to at least attempt to control your emotions. “He needs some time to cool down.”

You stand in silence for a moment before Seth touches your arm gently. “Do you need a ride home?”

You shake your head immediately, and he looks like he’s about to press further, so you cut him off, “I just need to be alone I think.” Seth gives you a semblance of a smile before heading back down to his place, and once the door shuts behind him the tears flow freely.

You’re holding back sobs the whole walk down, trying to focus on anything but what Seth just told you.

It’s inevitable though, and as soon as you’re outside, everything comes out all at once, and you’re collapsing onto the curb bawling your eyes out.

None of this makes sense to you anymore. You’re so utterly confused with everything that has happened that you can barely focus on one event at a time. All the lines are blurred and you have no idea how to clear them.

In a last ditch effort you pull out your phone, opening your conversation with Josh. You type the words fast, sending them before you have time to second guess it.

Nothing happened between me and Seth.

You don’t know why you stare at the screen, waiting for something you’re sure is not gonna happen.

But then you wipe your tears and look back, and instead of seeing the dreadful “delivered” note under your message, you see a read receipt. Your breath hitches in your throat and you watch as the text bubble appears and disappears numerous times. He’s debating what to say, and you wish he’d just let it all out, but the message never comes. It disappears for about a minute, and you’re close to giving up, when your phone vibrates in your hand, Josh’s name lighting up the screen.

You answer it without hesitation, but freeze as soon as you lift it to your ear.

You sit there holding your breath, taking in the silence, unable to form words, and then he speaks.

“Y/N?”

You suck in a breath, finally pushing out a word, “...Yeah?”

He doesn’t say anything on the other end, and once again you’re left in silence. About a minute goes by and you’re worried that you won’t be able to hide the sounds of your sobbing anymore, so you whisper, “You punched Seth,”

He sighs, but doesn’t say anything, so you continue, “Josh, he’s your friend. You shouldn’t have done that.”

Josh laughs bitterly and immediately you know this isn’t going to go well. “Yeah well you probably shouldn’t have slept with him to get back at me.”

“I just told you nothing happened,” You defend yourself, and almost stop there but his comment is unwarranted and hypocritical, so you call him out, “But even if I did you did the exact same thing to me so don’t go getting all moral here,”

You really didn’t want to have a screaming match with him but how can you help it? He gets so angry so quickly and tries to pin everything on you. It’s impossible to have an actual mature conversation with him.

“It is not the same thing,” He backs, and you find yourself rolling your eyes.

“Are you really trying to deny the fact that you cheated on me with my best friend?”

You’re unable to catch it, it just slips out, but when it does you know he’s gonna use it against you.

“Oh get over yourself, we were never together. I didn’t cheat on you, stop trying to make this worse than it is.”

You knew his response would be harsh but you didn’t expect that. That was worse than you thought. Every word has more and more venom and you actually start to feel physical pain.

“I am not the one making things worse here, Josh. You are the one that fled the fucking country to avoid talking this out!” Every word comes out louder than the last until you’re yelling right back, finishing your rant with fire.

“Cause maybe I didn’t want to!” He shouts back, and you swear you feel your heart stop.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask quietly, petrified for his answer.

“Why are we acting like there’s feelings here?” He starts, and you hold your breath, waiting for him to continue. “All we were doing was fucking so why are we acting like it was more?”

Cause it was. And you know it.

Those words don’t actually come out of your mouth though. Nothing does.

“I left because I couldn’t care less if we fix this or not.”

You really don’t believe what he’s saying right now. There was more. You both felt it, he’s just hurt.

That’s what you tell yourself at least.

“You don’t care? Is that why you punched Seth? Cause you don’t care?”

“I don’t wanna talk about this anymore, Y/N.” Josh sighs, and you have to pull the phone away from you momentarily because if you don’t, you think he might actually be able to hear your heart breaking.

“Fine.” You say, but it’s not. “We won’t. This is done. Have a nice life Josh.”

And then you cut the line.

THE END

i’m kidding it’s not done. pls don’t come for me.

#gpp fic #liv writes #josh anderson imagine #josh anderson #columbus blue jackets imagine #columbus blue jackets #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey imagines #once again the read more isnt working im sorry i dont know why

[totheendofthelinepal]

OLD DOG, NEW TRICKS (PART TWO)

SUMMARY: Bucky may be from 1940, and he may be a bit out of practice, but his neighbor next door can show him a thing or two.

NOTE: Swearing, NSFW (18+)

It had been nearly a week.

A week since you had spent 9 hours - 540 minutes, 32,400 seconds. Every one of those seconds you had spent under his touch - discovering and relishing in every part of him. If someone had told you that your day off would’ve been spent in bed with none other than Bucky Barnes, you probably would’ve labeled them as crazy. But nonetheless, two you had experienced each other - over and over again. it was something you had never been a part of, being with a man who was so eager to learn and teach just how many ways he could get you unhinged. It was always a matter of getting the job done, getting them off before even you were finished. But Bucky Barnes was different. You could tell from the very first moment you met him, he was someone who put others before himself - and god did he prove that in the bedroom. You tried to fight it, replaying the memories of that day - you couldn’t believe it happened. You almost thought to yourself if it was going to happen again anytime soon. Tonight you would most definitely get that answer. Every so often you were invited to the Friday night bar hangout. It involved the enhanced invidual heroes of the world, and you couldn’t help but tag along - than again who would turn the Avengers down. You were more nervous than anything, you hadn’t seen Bucky all week since your day of.. discovering each other. You had kept yourself busy, in all honesty - you weren’t sure if you were ready to face him again. But god did you want to now, you almost craved looking in those pretty blue eyes. On the way to the bar, you had kept music in your ears - marvin gaye was the only thing to give you some shred of confidence in a time like this. You were going to see him again, in the flesh - with his clothes on.

The bar was packed as usual, the loud music overpowering any more doubtful thoughts in your head. Your eyes had searched across the establishment, trailing just slow enough to get a glimpse - you saw them at a small table in the far back corner. Taking a deep breath, you made eye contact with Sam - smiling you walked forward, motioning to the bar for your usual. When you got to the table your heart was racing, seeing Bucky was almost like a rush of adrenaline right now. It didn’t help that he looked damn good. You took a moment to appreciate him, a dark red t shirt - paired with a leather jacket. There was no beating the way he looked right now, no man could ever compare - not with a smile like that.

“Nice of you to make it.” Sam laughed, “What did you do? walk here?“

“I did actually.” You grinned, “It’s called saving money.”

“Well you could’ve shared a taxi with Barnes,” Nat smirked, “He just got here before you did.“

“Didn’t know she was home.” Bucky took a slow sip of his beer, looking to Steve for a brief moment.

“So Buck tells me you let us borrow your washing machine.” Steve sighed, and you nearly choked on the drink that you took a sip of.

“Uh, yeah.” You shrugged, “It’s no big deal.”

“No, really.” Steve placed a hand to your shoulder, “You’ve been such a help.“

“Oh its nothing.” You swallowed harshly, “It wasn’t that much.”

“Oh I’d say it was-“ Bucky took a deep breath, a slow smirk on his lips started to tease, “Five loads?“

Your eyes went wide, wondering why the hell he was about to drop the news to everyone by his sly remark.

“Yeah well.” You coughed, “They weren’t considered that much.”

“Oh?” Bucky questioned, “I’d say they were pretty big loads. Of laundry.“

“Bucky tends to wait a long time before-“ Steve started, and you wished to god that Bucky didn’t tease about this.

“Doing my laundry.” Bucky grinned, “You’re right, Pal. It’s been a long time since I’ve washed clothes.”

“So, we haven’t seen you for awhile.” Nat remarked, “How have you been?“

“I’m fine.” You choked out, “Yeah I’m great.”

“Seeing anyone?” Sam questioned, and Nat instantly shoved his arm at the forward question.

“Uh-“ You felt your palms start to sweat, Bucky looked at you with anticipation.

“You don’t have to answer that.” Steve looked to you in sympathy that you were being put on the spot.

“Alright alright.” Sam laughed, “Anyone else want something to eat?“

You watched carefully as Steve and Nat nodded before following, they all left to the bar - leaving you and Bucky alone. Quick in your actions you had moved to sit yourself at his side, within seconds you thankfully exchanged smiles with the man you had gotten involved with.

“Big loads, huh?” You smirked, playfully nudging his arm.

“Am I wrong?” Bucky laughed, his eyes daring enough to fall to your lips.

“So are we-“ You took a deep breath, “A-Are we telling them?”

“How about we just-“ Bucky placed a hand to your thigh, “Keep this to ourselves for now.“

You sighed in relief, “Oh thank god.”

“Wow alright.” Bucky gave you a look of disapproval, “I mean I know I’m no trophy.“

You giggled, “No. I’m just saying they would have so many questions.”

Bucky smirked to you, “You’re very right. Can’t imagine what kind of crazy lecture Steve would give me.“

“Oh I’m sure that would be real swell.” You giggled, “Secret for now.”

“I’m completely fine with that.” Bucky grinned, “But when are we… going to do laundry again?“

“Okay no more laundry.” You playfully rolled your eyes to him, “And I was..maybe thinking. You and I could get out of here, soon?”

“Oh?” Bucky smiled boyishly to you, “So soon, huh?“

“Well I gotta few more things to teach you, Barnes.” You bit your lip, “You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

“Is that so?” Bucky teased, “I think you don’t know who you’re talking to, darlin.“

You bit your lip, ready to tease even more - but you quickly felt the moment fade as the rest of the group returned to the table.

“You wouldn’t believe the shit we got into this week.” Sam looked at you, “I tell you this whole superhero thing is harder than it looks.”

“Is our birdman getting tired?” Nat winked at you, “Who would’ve thought flying around all day could be tiring.“

“Alright call me birdman again, Romanoff.” Sam warned, “You may be cute but I still get pissed over that.”

You couldnt help but laugh, but it was mostly in attempt to cover what your hand suddenly felt the need to do. It was a dangerous move, but you couldn’t help yourself. Not when you knew what Bucky Barnes had underneath his clothing. You were slow in your touch, placing your hand just over the front of his jeans - gripping ever so lightly to feel his leg jolt.

“So, Steve-“ Bucky choked out, “A-Any news on the Sharon front?“

“I dont know.” Steve sighed, “You know it is kinda odd.”

“You’re right. It is.” Nat took a sip of her beer, “But who’s to say who you choose to fall in love with?“

Bucky’s features were suddenly so amusing, completely focused and trying to keep his breathing steady. You couldn’t help yourself, rubbing along the material - he felt so good beneath your hands, and now you felt just how much he appreciated the touch. There was no way he could stand up from the table right now. Biting your lip, you felt his hand dip beneath the table - placing over your own, you were sure he was going to pull it away. But he did the exact opposite. You froze, trying your best not to smile - his hand had actually made you cause more pressure. He was playing the game just as you.

“How was your-“ You tried not to laugh, “Latest mission?”

“It was alright, I suppose.” Nat shrugged, “Took a lot longer than we hoped.“

“How long would you say?” You did your best to hold conversation, but it was difficult when you felt Bucky rock hard beneath your hand.

“Three days.” Nat sighed, her eyes fixating to you - she was starting to notice.

“Did you-“ You looked to Bucky in a warning, “Did you say you had something to show me?”

“Y-Yes.” Bucky managed to get words out, his cheeks were suddenly a shade of pink. Something you noticed when he was more than ready to go.

“Alright.” You stammered, “Well we’re going to go.“

“Wait-“ Steve piped up, and you had stood to your feet.

“We’ll see you later.” Bucky coughed, “Later.”

“Right.” You released a shaking breath, Bucky’s hands forced you to stand in front of him.

You could hardly breathe, your legs feeling like jello - his hardness was pressing against you, and you could hardly breathe.

This was going to be another long night.

#bucky #bucky barnes #buckybarnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #marvel

[princecupcakee]

Park Bench | Reddie

Read on AO3

Rating: E

Pairing: Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak

Word Count: 3,112

Chapter: 6/8

Past Chapters: Chapter 1 (AO3), Chapter 2 (AO3), Chapter 3 (AO3), Chapter 4 (AO3), Chapter 5 (AO3)

Next Chapter:

Summary: Recently divorced and ‘incapable of love’, Eddie Kaspbrak moves to Los Angeles for work and a small, small hope of a fresh start. Broken up and never dated again, Richie Tozier tries to get back into love with help from his love of music. Quickly meeting eyes and one concert later, they think that maybe love isn’t that bad. So they try it one more time.

Chapter 6: Eddie Kaspbrak Gets Hurt, Richie Tozier, Stan And Patty Uris, And Ben and Beverly Marsh Buy A Ring & Eddie Kaspbrak, Bill Denbrough and Mike Hanlon Plan A Leave

Tags/Warnings: Angst / Unhappy Ending / theres only one sex scene but this is explicit anyway / Bisexual Richie Tozier / Gay Eddie Kaspbrak / Post-Divorce / Implied/Referenced Cheating / Inspired By Remembering Sunday (All Time Low) / Inspired by The Book Ninja by Ali Berg / Implied/Referenced Child Abuse / Implied/Referenced Abuse / Implied/Referenced Manipulation

Tag-list: @richietoaster, @s-s-georgie, @mikeuris, @gazebobullshit, @that-weird-girls-blog, @tozierking, @thoughtfullyyoungduck, @s-onora, @bellarosewrites, @lermanslogan, @ambitiousskychild, @ghostnebula, @vanillaredvelvet, 

(Ask if you wanna be on the tag-list!!)

Chapter 6

Eddie Kaspbrak Gets Hurt

Richie was out getting… something (he didn’t tell Eddie), he said it would take a while. Which left Eddie in an uncomfortable state. He didn’t want it to happen again, he didn’t want to lose something as important as this.

~

“How could you do this? You cheated on me, Eddie! With a man! I thought you cared for me, you didn’t want to hurt me!”

“Myra, I’m sorry. It was a mistake-“

“How was that a mistake? You’ve been dating for three months, Eddie. And you just pass that off as a mistake?”

“None of that was supposed to happen, Myra! I didn’t know what I was doing!”

“The texts seem to say otherwise.”

“Fine!  Lets get a divorce!”

“What?”

“I’m done! I can’t do anything here. You’re always saying that I’m hurting you, then I’ll stop! This marriage was headed for doom the moment it happened.”

“Are you hearing yourself, Eddie? This is crazy! This is what that man has done to you!”

“None of that was him, it was me! I don’t want this marriage, I don’t want this life! I’m sorry, I know what I did was wrong and I should’ve just told you before this got out of hand, but I didn’t. So, I’m sorry. This is how we fix this.”

~

Eddie, feeling incapable of love, takes a safe seat on the couch. ‘What the hell am I doing here?’ He thinks to himself, bringing his face into his hands. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, but he’s been thinking about this the whole time. He’s been thinking of leaving, this whole time. He’s been so happy with Richie. Of course, he was. But his past is taunting him, following his every move and making him afraid.

He doesn’t want to hurt Richie. The best thing to do is to leave. Just as he did with Myra. That is how you fix it, right?

Fuck. He needed a drive. Now. Richie took his car out though, and talking to yourself at the train station isn’t a thing he would really want to do. Run. That’s it. Thats what he’ll do. He’s always been good at track; this should be fine. His mother wasn’t here to stop him this time.

So he put on his shoes and stepped out the door. It was never that cold in Los Angeles, people casually went out on runs. But when he bolts away from Richie’s place, ran straight onto the road with his eyes closed from pushing back tears then getting hit by a car, he thinks maybe running was a bad idea.

He woke up in a shaking ambulance. His eyes shut, he should’ve expected this. Its not like he hasn’t woken up in an ambulance before.  ‘I thought the point was to help people, I feel like I’m gonna throw up’ he thinks bitterly. He closes his eyes again, he didn’t need to be asked questions, or checked on, just needed time to think. ‘You wanted a drive now you got one’ his mind laughs at him. He was tired, but he did need to think. He could make a run for it, leave without a word. But that wouldn’t be fair to Richie, would it? He’d do anything to keep Richie. Keep him happy, keep him in his life, whichever he meant, it still fits his description. He could pick a fight. He was good at that. He cheated on his wife, he would know how to cause problems.

If Richie were to see him at the hospital, which was likely, he could pick a fight. A quick, simple, small fight that he would enlarge, ruining every smile he received since the divorce. He wants to deserve Richie. He needs it. But he can’t just be that person. Plus, Richie would find out sooner or later, that he’s truly incapable of not fucking up love. The love in his marriage wasn’t real. He tried to remember if he ever thought it was. Hell, if he fucked up a love he only created in his head, how could he be capable of real fucking thing? He knew it sounded stupid, but his heart felt like it was being thrown into an incinerator, maybe that meant it wasn’t.

Its too much for him to handle, thats easy to admit, but to admit to himself that he’s so in love would be a little harder. He knew where this was headed before it even started, he was too much of a mess. He shut his eyes tighter. Richie has the perfect job for him now, he’s got his friends, he’s got a place, he should be fine without Eddie. Eddie was just scared, and incapable, and destructive, and defensive, and nothing that Richie would need.

He promised himself that night, seeing Myra cry and beg for him to stay, that love was too much. That he couldn’t handle hurting someone like that.  He hurt his mother so much as a child, she would always say so after Eddie would leave the house for longer than she’d said to. Was she really hurt? Eddie couldn’t tell anymore, he just knew that she didn’t like it. Myra was mostly the same, was hurt when ever Eddie would do something that he wanted to without telling her first. Seemed as if most of what he wanted wasn’t allowed.

He knew that it was trauma. That it was built into his head that he’s always hurting people. But he’s still scared. Its one thing to know what happened, its another to know how to deal with it. Eddie didn’t know the latter. He’s been trying, really, but in the early hours of the morning, when Richie would be sound asleep beside him, he’d wonder if he hurt Richie. He probably would. So, the best plan would be to leave, where Richie could forget about him, and go on as if he never existed, maybe then he couldn’t hurt Richie.

So, when Richie sees him in the hospital, worried and almost in tears, his heart twists.

“Eddie, what happened? Are you okay?” Richie rushes, Beverly, Ben, Stan, and Patty following behind. Eddie doesn’t bother to ask why.

“I'm fine,” he says stubbornly.

“What happened to you?”

“I went out for a run, got hit by a car, I’m fine though.”

“You aren’t fine, you got hit by a car,” Richie says loudly. Eddie wonders if this hurt him.

“So? I’m still breathing, Richie.”

“You’re still- you’re still breathing? So? Your fucking hurt I thought you were a risk analyst!”

“What? So you’re gonna get mad at me for getting hurt? It was an accident, I can do everything just fine. We can go back now, I’m not in any pain,” Eddie waves off. He really was in pain though, a throbbing headache, his sides feeling like they’ve been stabbed.

“We’re not going back, you have to stay here and heal, from… that!” Richie gestures to Eddie in the hospital bed.

“You can’t just tell me to stay here, I’m fine, this is my body anyway.”

“You’re being a dick, man.”

“Do I look like I care?”

“I’m trying to help you!”

“You’re not doing shit!”

Silence followed after that, Richie with tears in his eyes and Eddie trying to hold his back. ‘This is how to fix it’  he reminds himself, turning his head to face away from Richie.

“Well… how can I do something?” Richie asks softly.

Another minute of silence, “You can’t,” Eddie chokes out, “can you please just leave?”

“Okay.”

~~~

Richie, seated on a hard cold chair in the hospital, tries to breathe. Calling him a dick was probably unnecessary, he was hurt after all. That was probably his fault. Yeah, he was trying to help Eddie but he wasn’t doing it right. He did feel as if he was a bit controlling. Thats always what Connor would say. Every time he asked him where he was going, who that girl he was with was, why he wouldn’t come home at night. He was controlling.

He should apologize, he really is in love with Eddie. Mike and Bill are in Eddie’s hospital room right now, he should just go in there. A normal apology might not do it. He grinned. Everything fits into place. He just hopes Eddie says ‘yes.’

Richie Tozier, Stan And Patty Uris, And Ben and Beverly Marsh Buy A Ring

“I’m horrified,” Richie mumbles walking into the store. They were buying a ring now. Richie’s plans all fitting into place.  He had told Eddie that he went out to buy something, though, he doubts Eddie was really listening. Patty, Stan, Ben, and Beverly were here with him, they were the only ones who knew about the proposal.

He had the perfect plan. He’d replay the day they first kissed. Well, without the date of course. And seeing Walter and Maddison. (He still wonders how to fill that gap.) Pulling Eddie out of bed to take him to a different restaurant with a similar view to the one before. He didn’t want Eddie to exactly notice his plan so a normal too-early-watch-the-sunrise breakfast would do. He would take Eddie out around town, anywhere the wind took them, by sundown, they would be back, seated on the bench a ring in Richie’s hand and one knee on the ground. He had checked the weather for that day, it was most likely to rain that night, which fit perfectly to his plans. And, if not, it would work either way.

Maybe he’d play a game again, ask Eddie to marry him as they talked. He was still debating that part since Eddie talked about his divorce to Richie that day. Well, he mentioned it. Eddie wouldn’t really tell him things. It wasn’t something he really liked to do. He told Richie nothing about his divorce, his family, it's almost like it didn’t happen. But it affected Eddie, Richie could tell that. It slightly worried Richie. Eddie wouldn’t really let him in. Anything about his past seems to be missing, something long gone and thrown away. If Eddie didn’t want to talk about it, that was fine, sometimes Richie just hoped he would tell him sometimes. Richie just hoped that he could help.

“Don’t worry about it, Richie,” Patty says, smiling.

A quick thank you to Patty, “remind me again how you know Eddie’s ring size?” He asks Beverly.

“I helped him look for rings when he got married.”

“Oh God that makes it worse. What if he doesn’t wanna get married anymore? Did his divorce suck? He didn’t tell me much about it-“

“Richie,” Stan says, walking over to a jeweler. Richie walks over to a different one with Bev.

“You should ask him yourself, Rich. About his divorce. All I really know is that he loves you,” Beverly smiles after asking to see three different rings (which Richie thought was a bit extra.)

“I guess thats… yeah, thats a better idea.”

“I know you’re doing this again but, I mean, I’m really believing in this one, I’ve known Eddie a long time.”

Richie appreciated the comment in silence. He believed in this too. “You’re marriage has been perfect, how?”

Beverly was surprised by the question, “I guess, love? It isn’t that easy to explain, and everything I’m going to say would be cheesy as fuck, but yeah, I guess love would be it.”

“You and Ben are such sappy assholes,” Richie laughs, earning a playful punch to the shoulder from Beverly.

“When are you proposing anyway?”

“Saturday,” he smiles confidently.

The jeweller brought up the box of rings set inside the glass box. Beverly had chosen three. Two golden bands with matching circular diamonds embedded into it, a pair of golden rings with three blue diamonds, and the third, a silver ring with a large square diamond in its centre. Richie hated the last one for sure. He debated it for a few minutes, the first pair or the second.

“I’d say the gold one with the blue ones,” Stan says, coming up behind them.

“Yeah,” Richie smiled, “could you carve something on the inside of that?”

“Of course,” the jeweler replied, “just write down what you want,” he pulled out a piece of paper that Richie was sure wasn’t there and wrote ‘R + E’ The jeweler then explained the prices and the ring in words Richie would only dream to understand.

He was buying a ring for Eddie. He was going to try proposing, he was going to ask Eddie to marry him. The thought alone made Richie’s heart race, but he smiled. This love is worth a shot. This would work. Eddie wouldn’t do want Connor did to him. Eddie is kind, and brave and caring, and everything Richie could ask for. Richie wondered if the cheesier something sounds, the more true it is. It seemed to fit the definition.

“Hey, Rich?” Stan says beside him. Bev was off somewhere with Ben now, Patty was looking at a few necklaces, leaving Richie and Stan together.

“Yeah?”

“I’m really proud of you man,” he pats Richie’s shoulder.

“Thanks,” he smiled fondly.

“I was worried about you, man. After… Connor, I didn’t think you’d want to keep with it.”

“Eddie’s really amazing.”

“I can tell,” he smiles.

“Don’t take him from me. If you got that hot shit, Mike, you could probably get Eddie too.”

“Who- who told you that?” Stan asked punching Richie’s arm.

“What is it with people punching me?” He rubs his arm exaggeratedly.

Stan laughed, “‘cause you’re a dick.”

His phone rang, echoing around the store, gaining looks. ‘Eds Spaghetti’ flashed on his screen. “hey!”

“Sir, I have Mr. Edward Kaspbrak’s phone with me and you were on the emergency dial. He is in the hospital,” the woman on the other line gave an address, and Richie shut his phone to head to the hospital.

Eddie Kaspbrak, Bill Denbrough and Mike Hanlon Plan A Leave

“Eddie, are you sure about this? This is the one time its working out for you, we both think so,” Mike says sympathetically gesturing to him and Bill.

“I’ve made enough fucking mistakes I don’t wanna keep fucking shit up.”

“B-but you aren’t!” Bill argues, he opens his mouth to say more but Eddie cuts him off.

“I will, Bill. You know me just as well as I do, I can’t do this,” it hurts when he says that. He’s about to burst into tears, he knows it, so he breathes slowly.

“I haven’t seen you this happy, Eddie. This is… new. This is something thats good for you,” Mike has always been rational. The one to make decisions and the one to ask for help. But Eddie doesn’t need help. He doesn’t want to change what he thinks, he doesn’t want to be persuaded away, leading to what he knows will happen.

Bill and Mike are talking again, but he doesn’t want to hear anything else. He tries not to blink, the tears will probably fall the second he does. ‘This isn’t a mistake’, he thinks. He wants to think. There’s nothing for him here, nothing that can fix him. He’s going back to New York City, he’ll find an apartment, he’ll go to work, thats all. At this point, he doubts he’ll fall in love again. Richie might. Richie will, he likes to think. Someone better than he is. Someone who can give Richie what he deserves.

Richie told him about Connor. All the things he did, all the horrible words he said. Eddie hated it. He only wishes he could be with Richie for that long, Connor just wasted it. Sometimes he would wonder if Connor regrets it (or if he could make Connor regret it) and wondered if that would happen to him. When he leaves, would he regret it? If he was being selfish, probably. But he was doing this for Richie. This would be good for him. This is how you fix things.

“I’m going to do it,” he whispers, “I don’t care if you don’t think this is a good idea, sometimes I don’t think it is. But thats just me wanting to make things worse. I’m going.”

The tears were bursting out now, but Mike and Bill didn’t move (as much as it hurt them to do so.) “You c-can change y-your mind, Eddie. Y-you can change. I th-think you already have,” Bill says softly.

Eddie just sits there, his breathing is still mostly still steady. People always said that, that you could change. And most people can. He knows he can. But the risk of hurting someone while still just trying to change. That in-between point where your still figuring out what and how to change from the way you were before to the way you want to be. There is always a risk. Nothing is ever easy. He learned that.

Richie is someone he didn’t want to hurt. He’s gone through being hurt before, and its effects were pretty clear. Eddie could do that, Eddie probably will. This was inescapable. If he couldn’t hold himself back then, how would he do it now? With the ‘power of love’? Love exists he’s sure of that, but what would it be able to do? What would it be able to fix?

When Eddie’s in tears, all his anger goes away. All of the fire inside of him leaves. All there is the pain it has left. “I wish I thought the same as you, Bill,” he weakly laughed.  

Bill and Mike didn’t protest anymore, knowing it would be useless. Eddie’s going to leave Los Angeles on Saturday, and there’s no stopping him. They wonder if there ever was a way to. But they doubt it.

#reddie #reddie fic #it #it chap one #it chap two #remembering sunday + the book ninja au #*evil laughter*

[beerecordings]

Wait what about Anti????? Does he not need therapy??????

haha, great minds think alike i guess! i actually got an ask about a softer Anti too, but I’ll talk about a more classic Anti first. cause he DEFINITELY needs therapy, but it’s not going to be easy to get him there.

a classic evil Anti is going to be in a padded room talking to a therapist through glass, institutionalized and imprisoned for whatever he did that was criminal enough to justify him being taken away from society but insane enough he’s not in a traditional prison. and at first the only reason he’d talk to this stupid therapist they keep sending to him is trying to scare him, freak him out, have something to play with while he waits to get back to Jack and the others to torment them instead. the therapist would have to be an expert in criminal therapy - unfazed, unintimidated, “i’ve seen worse and you don’t scare me, you tiny Irish bastard,” just quietly listening and asking a couple questions and adjusting his medication as needed.

and let’s assume this therapist has an effect.

suddenly Anti is getting quieter, getting less cocky, having trouble now, losing his self-confidence as all the dark thoughts he has find themselves in a more stable brain, and suddenly start to look as scary as they are. he’s a little doped up from heavy-duty meds to keep him under control and stop him from hurting himself, and he’s starting to get thin and very pale, sitting on his bed with his knees drawn up to his chest, mumbling about the boy, the boy, the boy, clutching at his throat, sometimes giving off soft cries, asking for somebody to come save him, he doesn’t know what’s happening, he doesn’t know what he is...

and this, this is interesting. this is where the therapist really gets to digging. “What are you, then, Anti? Do you remember your parents? A creator, but not your father? Tell me about him. Why did you try to kill him? What was going through your head in that moment?”

and he starts to realize he’s dealing with HUGE delusions, and not just the narcissism. Anti is paranoid, Anti is self-loathing, Anti is obsessed and convinced that he needs to kill someone to get enough attention to survive, to have revenge on him for creating him as some broken error. He believes he’s some kind of demon, computer virus, copy of a man???

so the therapist starts trying to find distractions.

“You don’t want to be in here anymore, do you, Anti? I know, I know. It’s okay, don’t claw at yourself like that. That’s what we’re working on, right? Well, why don’t we try thinking about something other than the boy with the bloody throat. I want you to try something for me, but you can pick what.”

“Try something?”

“A hobby or something. Not one of the habits the boy had, no drums or video games or anything like that. A hobby you picked.”

“A hobby or something?” snaps Anti, hiding with his face against the wall, rocking himself. “You’ve said a lot of stupid fucking shit, Casper - ” he NEVER calls Casper “Doctor” and they don’t know how he learned his first name - “but that has got to be the stupidest idea yet. I’m going to give you frostbite and make you choose between chewing off your own fingers and let the infection spread. I’m going to pull your ribs out and you’ll still be alive to watch me dissolve them in acid. I’m going to find that cute little wife of yours and next week she’ll be the one sitting here in this bed, and you will scream to see what I have made of her.”

And Casper’s unfazed. Unintimidated. Unafraid.

“I’ll be back next week,” he says. “You have a decision for me by then. I’ll have the nurses remind you, so you can think about it. You tell them if you need anything. You tell them if you need me.”

Anti shoves his forehead against his knees and does not wish him goodbye.

But next week, he has an answer.

“Want to knit,” he croaks.

“You’re not allowed have anything sharp, Anti.”

Anti doesn’t say anything. Fuck, but he looks white today. Fuck, but he’s shaking hard. Casper’s never seen him scared quite like this.

“How are you doing today?” asks Casper.

Anti’s pupils are blown. He stares at the wall, licking at his dry lips. Rubbing at his throat.

“Anti,” says Casper, a little louder. “The nurses said you’re not eating. Do you want to be put on a tube again?”

Anti makes this noise Casper has never heard before.

Almost like a sob.

Casper waits for a long time to see if he can calm down. But today is not a good day and Anti is in pain, replaying memories in his mind, trying to reconcile the two self-images conflicting in his brain, trying to figure out why he did the things he did.

“I can see if there’s a way for you to knit without needles,” says Casper, softly.

At that, a tiny nod, the only response Anti has in him. Yes, please. He wants that. He wants to knit. He’s not doing well. He can’t take this obsession anymore. Can’t keep thinking about what the boy’s doing, what the boy’s eating, what videos he’s made, what it would look like to see him die, what it would feel like to kill him, to end him, oh, fuck, oh, fuck, this used to make him high and now he’s leaning over the bed to choke up bile on an empty stomach, trying to scream but only able to sob, clutching at his throat, grabbing at his throat, squeezing at his throat -

He has to be sedated. by the time next week rolls around, Anti is being fed through a tube, drugged out of his mind, watching with agonized eyes as the one nurse he tolerates comes to take care of him like he’s some weak, broken thing. sometimes she even pushes the hair out of his eyes, her warm hand brushing against his forehead, and he lets himself think about the way the boy used to have people to hold him and hug him and show him affection, and it used to make happy chemicals light up in his brain and smile cross the face they share, and he wasn’t in pain...

The knitting gives him something else to focus on.

Maybe a little too much. He knits obsessively, without pattern, just looping, looping, looping, looping a longer and longer blanket, his eyes fixed on it, only eating when his nurse tells him he has to if he doesn’t want his yarn taken away. for once, he does not mumble to himself, does not try to slam his hands against the wall or tear his throat open, does not speak of the boy.

Until Casper comes back the next week.

A long line of knitted yarn stretches out on Anti’s feet. There’s a little color in his cheeks again. A little light in his eyes. Casper prepares himself for yelling, for insults, for threats to make lesser men weak in the knees.

“How are you doing today, Anti?”

Anti loops, loops, loops.

“Better since last week?”

Loops, loops, loops.

“You know, it’s six months since you came here. Did you know that?”

Stops looping.

And for a second, everything frantic and angry and violent and cruel falls away from his face, and he is just another patient, another young man who’s done terrible things, who needs Casper because nobody else cares to care about him.

And he says, “I hate him because I am not as complete as he is, and I feel like a shattered thing, and I wish he made me whole.”

It’s a breakthrough.

Anti picks up other hobbies. He reads. He draws a little. Once, he’s even allowed out into the mess hall, and he bounces a ball back and forth, quietly, with another inmate.

They start to talk meaningfully. He’s disorganized mentally and hard to follow, yes, and he’s still violent and threatening, still angry and cruel. but sometimes, in a blue moon, he bares his wounds to this quiet, unafraid man, watching him from across clear glass.

They talk about Anti’s hurt. About Anti’s hatred. About life outside of this room, but not outside of the institution.

He’s never getting out, of course. Or he’s not supposed to. But, well. He does. Somehow. He’s the only inmate ever to escape this place.

Casper still thinks of him sometimes.

Hopes he’s doing well.

#hospitalization tw #institutionalization tw #drugging tw #hospital tw

[221bshrlocked]

Hands Down

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Words: 2363

Warnings: Bucky’s hands. Knives. ;)

A/N: Ok I’m still incapable of writing oneshots so here is another one. Next part will be last. And will definitely be smut. I’m putting these on AO3 so the third would be on there with gifs cause we need gifs with Buket.

Previous Part | Next Part

You woke up thirsty and sweaty, kicking the covers and looking down at yourself before groaning and throwing your head back. This was not ideal, the opposite of it as a matter of fact. You jumped up and stripped the covers off your bed, grabbing the duvet as well and throwing it into the washer. Taking a sniff of yourself, you growled and walked to the shower.

“That’s just great, you reek of lonely sex.” You stared at your reflection before stepping into the shower, sighing when the hot water hit your back and soothed your aching muscles. You took your time, wanting to forget all of yesterday, especially what happened in the kitchen, and focus on how to clear up the misunderstanding with Bucky. As you dried your hair, you remembered what you said right before slipping, eyes widening in horror before you shut the hairdryer off and took a step back.

“FUCK!” You yelled louder than intended and jumped when you heard a knock at your door not a second later. Skidding to your door, you opened it and clutched the towel tightly around your body, eyes going straight to the hand combing back his hair. God his metal fingers went through his hair like a knife cutting through silk and you had to blink at the intrusive thought to pay attention to him.

“Morning doll,” Bucky smiled at you, glad to know why your heart was racing again, although this time, he thought it was probably because of his state of dress, or lack thereof, instead of his hands. But when he saw you looking at his hand, he brushed the thought aside, a part of him glad you enjoyed the metal prosthetic more than the rest of him.

“Hi. Did you, umm, where you on your morning run?” You struggled through the question, trying to convince yourself to not look at the hand dabbing the towel down his chest but losing the battle when you saw his triceps flexing as he moved his arm. Your gaze shifted to his wrist, watching the veins moving beneath the skin and finding it a tad bit creepy that all you wanted to do was lick those same veins as he moaned beneath you. This time, you had to shake your head to chase the thought away because what kind of fantasy was that?

“Yeah, we missed you this morning. Just came by to check on you after last night.” Bucky stopped, biting his lower lips when he saw you shamelessly looking at his hands and not bothering to be subtle about it. He almost laughed when you shook your head, knowing very well what you were thinking of because you had no issue screaming it all night long.

“What?”

“You alright doll? You seem a little…distracted.” He was smiling down at you and you didn’t notice at all, too busy trying to keep your shit together until he left. But then he noticed your heart rate increase and decided to stop his teasing for now. He was controlling himself so far, surprised that you were standing around talking to him in nothing but a towel. Bucky masked his reaction as soon as you opened the door but he was finding it harder to do so when you looked so fucking shy. He’d noticed a drop of water rolling down your thighs and wanted nothing more than to push you in the room and fuck you just like you begged him to for hours.

But he wasn’t about to cut this little cat-mouse game, not when he was just getting started.

“I umm, yeah. No, I’m fine. Yes I’m a little distracted. Well, not a little. A lot. Actually, that’s not it either. Bucky there is no way for me to say this without being blunt but yesterday, when we were in the lab, I didn’t mean to react the way I did when you held my arm. I swear I wasn’t put off by it.” On the contrary I wanted to feel it everywhere is what you wanted to say but you took a deep breath before continuing. “It just surprised me because I was trying to focus with Bruce and I didn’t want to screw him up by accident because I was afraid that he might cut some wire and then something would go wrong and it would be because of me and that wouldn’t end well be-”

“Hey hey Y/N, breathe. Relax darlin’ don’t even worry ‘bout it. I shouldn’t have done that either so it wasn’t your fault that-”

“NO.” You reached for his arm to stop him, realizing how close you were before stepping away from him. “No it wasn’t you. It’s, I mean they…it? Your arms, I mean hands, I mean you…shit. Okay, it wasn’t unwelcomed. It’s fine.” You hated how incoherent you were being and finally managed to look at him, finding the boyish smile he was giving you absolutely breathtaking. You could tell he hadn’t shaved in a few days and followed the scruff along his jaws. Bucky was a handsome man on a good day, but on a perfect day, he was like a whole fucking garden blooming in the middle of spring and you found it interesting that your heart was skipping a beat, not because of his hands, but because of the way he was staring at you.

Bucky was taken aback by what you said, wanting to pull you in for a hug and tell you how much he appreciates you struggling to tell him that his touches weren’t unwelcomed. But he held back.

“Doll, relax. It’s just me.” Bucky gave you a sympathetic look and heard you murmur something you thought he wouldn’t catch onto.

“Exactly…”

When he saw this was only getting worse for you, he decided to put an end to it. He didn’t want to make this even more awkward, for your sake at least.

“I’ll let you go, don’t want you to catch a cold. See you later darlin.” Bucky stretched his metal arm, squeezing the top of your shoulder before walking away. You stopped breathing when you felt the soft cool material smooth over your skin and slammed the door quickly. You completely forgot about what you said last night, too busy replaying the conversation and kicking yourself over not keeping your chill.

Bucky has never felt this happy in such a long time. He felt like he was floating on air and Steve noticed, not because he saw how outgoing Bucky was with the agents but because he went way to easy on them. He wanted to ask him if something happened but chose against it, knowing Bucky would tell him when he was ready. All he cared about was that his friend was smiling more often and didn’t panic when he was in a larger crowd of agents.

And that’s how it went for days. Wherever you were, Bucky would be, finding an excuse to sit next to you or some stupid reason to touch you. You were fine in the beginning, actually, no that was a lie. You weren’t fine. But it got harder and harder to keep yourself in check whenever he’d tap your shoulder or hold your waist when he just wanted to pass behind you. He’d smile at you too, that shit-eating grin driving you insane because a part of you realized he was doing it on purpose but you thought against it. He was just being friendly that’s all. Right?

Wrong.

So fucking wrong.

Bucky lived for the little breath-hitches when he’d touch you, smiling to himself when he’d notice how you continued to stare at his hands when he was writing or working out or chopping onions. He wanted to drive you insane because lord knows he didn’t manage a good night sleep in a while because of your extracurricular activities. Every Time he’d hear you pleasuring yourself, he’d spend hours convincing himself to not just walk in there and take you like you wanted, needed, fucking craved from the sounds of it.

But then you went on a mission and managed to get yourself shot because of your daydreaming. Okay it wasn’t a shot really, more like a graze. It didn’t even feel bad. But you got lectured from Steve and Natasha, telling them it was just a mistake that you wouldn’t repeat again.

“What the hell were you thinking of anyway?”

As soon as Natasha asked the question, your eyes shot straight to Bucky who had just finished cleaning his knife and was now flipping it around. Natasha wasn’t paying attention to you, cleaning her own guns and waiting for your response. But Bucky was listening to your conversation, looking up when you didn’t respond and raising an eyebrow when he saw you staring at his hand. The more dangerous maneuvers he made with the knife, the faster your heart beat and when he threw it in the air and caught it from the sharp end with two fingers, you stopped breathing.

When you finally looked up, you saw he was watching you like a hawk, smiling like a predator who’d just caught his prey in his territory. You swallowed the lump in your throat, trying to focus on anything but the way he licked his lower lip and failing.

“It’s okay Nat, she won’t repeat that mistake again. Right doll?” Bucky put the knife in his holster before leaning back, crossing his arms and tapping his feet. You couldn’t respond to him, not when he’d caught you eye-fucking him in front of everyone.

You stood up and walked to the front of the quinjet, quietly sitting next to Clint and ignoring everyone until you arrived back to the compound. And the second you landed, you were sprinting out of the jet, not bothering to listen to Steve telling everyone about the debriefing session.

You walked into your room and dropped your bag to the ground, stripping down to your sports bra and panties before slowly removing the gauze from around your arm. You stared at the two stitches and shook your head. Stupid fucking mistake. And you knew Steve and Natasha would as you what got you distracted again tomorrow. What the hell were you supposed to say?

“Oh I was too busy looking at Bucky flipping his fucking knife and imagining him sliding it down my skin Natasha is that what she wants me to say? That I got distracted and almost got shot by a fucking Hydra agent because I want Bucky to finger fuck me with whatever hand he wants and choke me with the other? What the fuck am I supposed to say?” You grabbed some clean pajamas and were about to walk into your bathroom when you heard a knock at your door.

Sighing, you knew you had to have this conversation with her at some point and decide to have it now instead of tomorrow.

“Nat I know that-” You opened the door and froze, not expecting to see Bucky at the other side of the door. He looked up and cleared his throat, not bothering to be subtle about checking you out. His eyes roamed your body and landed on your upper arm, relieved that the wound wasn’t as deep as he thought. You said nothing, waiting for him to lead the conversation because lord knows you weren’t about to try and converse with him.

“Came by to check on you darlin’ and boy am I glad I did.” He stepped in and slowly shut the door behind him, locking it before turning around to face you.

“I thought I’d enjoy this little game but honestly, not sure about that anymore. Not when you’re goin’ around and hurtin’ yourself because of me.” He stepped towards you and noticed your pupils dilate again.

“I didn’t hurt myself because of you.”

“Break a man’s heart doll why don’t ya?” Bucky grabbed the clothes from your hands and threw them away. You followed his movements, jaws clenching when you felt one hand hold your arm while the other rested on your upper thigh.

“You’ve been driving me crazy doll, every single fucking night for the past week. Those little sighs and whimpers when you fuck yourself to the thought of my hands. Baby girl, I’ve never felt so frustrated in my entire life.” He chuckled when your eyes widened in horror, the flesh hand on your arm ascending until it was at your throat. He tightened his grip just a little, using his metal one to wrap around your waist and pull you flush to him.

“So, what will it be doll?” Bucky leaned forward, brushing his lips against your cheeks and waiting for your response.

“Please.” You whispered through the haze, the need to feel him around you out outweighing your embarrassment.

“Please what baby? You want me to fuck you with one and choke you with the other like you want?” You realized he heard you before you opened the door and mentally prepared for a conversation with Tony because these walls shouldn’t be this thin. “Or you want suck on them while I fuck you into, what was it you said earlier, Valhalla? What will it be baby girl? You wanna come on my fingers first or on my dick? I’ll give you whatever you want darlin’ but you gotta use your words.” Bucky bit the juncture between your neck and shoulder, smiling when he felt you shaking in his arms.

“Whatever you want Buck. Use me, choke me, fuck me and cum inside me. Whatever you want just please. Please wanna feel you everywhere. Please.” Bucky swallowed your moans, wrapping his arms around your thighs and carrying you to the bathroom. He’d kissed you like a starved man, biting and sucking on your tongue until you had to pull away to breathe. He ripped your panties away, aggressively pulling on your sports bra until you were bare in front of him. He stripped in record time, slapping your hands away when you tried to rub his cock.

“Oh doll, we’re gonna have so much fun.”

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