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ruiniel · 4 months

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Prickly thorns, tender roses

Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021)

Rating: Mature🔞

Relationship: Alucard/Original Female Character

Characters: Alucard, Original Character(s)

Summary:

Set after the events of Castlevania (Netflix) Season III. After the betrayal of his young apprentices, Alucard feels barely alive in his lonesome castle. Days wear on, chipping away at his mind and sanity. And what is the son of Dracula to do with this unwanted visitor, suddenly come at his doorstep? Often the prickly thorn produces tender roses - Ovid

Chapter tags & warnings: Inspired by Castlevania, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, POV alternating, Post-Castlevania Season III, Non-Canon Relationship, Paranoia, Not Canon Compliant, Angst, Personal interpretation of post-season III Alucard

PART I

Also on AO3

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XIX. Rue the day

The night was dewy, her steps were swift and floundering. The lone figure traversed the forest path leading away from the castle, her gaze ever watchful. This was, after all, a most surprising country in its savagery, as Ravenna had discovered firsthand. But even though she was afraid, need and fury drove her more than anything else. A need to fly and be away, one which not even her fear of the night and its terrors could suppress. But anger was the most potent of them all: she’d been somewhat of a fool.

Her boldness had been daft, and it was a foolish err to think she could have anticipated him. But most of all, Ravenna felt the greatest idiot for thinking she could help someone like him, in any way, shape, or form. A part of her still wondered what had driven her to act as she did. She pondered on what had made her goad him so shamelessly into intimacies he clearly had no intention of pursuing? Ones she herself had no notion of, apart from sparse teachings and forbidden writings. All of it had brought about such distress that Ravenna thought he may actually harm her, such was the insane spark of resentment in his eyes.

Hateful. Ravenna bit back a sob as her steps gained in speed. But not at first. At first, his mouth had been warm and welcoming, his body so perfectly arrayed to hers, his touch so unexpectedly nourishing and enveloping. And it felt so right to meld into him and all that he was; so honest and raw, as if his own life force surged within her through some arcane sharing... Her brow furrowed.

The blood.

Of course, there had been surely something he did not tell her, either from reluctance or an aversion to delving deeper into what was an uncomfortable topic. Ravenna figured it all had a role, but it was not the primary cause. More fool you, for dreaming of valiant deeds, of caring for vampires and shapeshifters.

In her hasty flight she’d taken nothing except her dagger and the clothes she now wore: a pair of worn leggings and a long knee-length tunic, which she cinched with a leather belt. She’d also taken a dark hooded cape from the few abandoned garments found in her borrowed bedchamber.

When Ravenna fled from an irate and feral Adrian, she ran straight to her room, and as she became engrossed in her hasty arrangements, the gifted manuscript caught her eye. She recalled herself standing still and gaping at the tome for a good few moments, open as it lay on the bed where she had left it.

How could he think I did it all to use him, when I had not even the slightest idea this existed?

He could not have been more wrong, but what was the use of wondering about it all anymore? Unfortunately, this creature was clearly lost, whatever he lived through bursting violently against any attempt of connection. Pridefully, Ravenna at first made for the door, intent on leaving his gift behind if only to prove her mettle. But then she recalled the higher need which drove her, and the principal goal leading her weary travels into this godforsaken land. For better or worse, it had been a gift. And she had nothing to prove, despite those delusional and hurtful accusations. It would be put to good use, for his own redemption, among others. No matter that he would never know of it. She took the tome.

Now, as Ravenna trudged through the forest, she turned her head up to the sky, only to feel drops of wetness caress and tickle her skin in sharp cold beams. Wonderful. Just what I needed.

She pulled the cloak and hood tighter around her shoulders, and grasping her dagger closely beneath the folds of her garment Ravenna pursued through the forest. She would not rest, she could not afford to. Firstly, it was perilous to linger, and secondly, she wanted to reach a human settlement as soon as possible. She had very little coin left, but it would have to do. Her return journey would not be an easy one, but what mattered was for the tome to reach master Ovidius. Ravenna would have needed more time to read it here, matching with other information she still had to sift through from the vault. But as things stood, even a partial aid was better than none.

She walked for most of the night with a mind full and an aching spirit, fortunately encountering no setbacks of any kind. Well, there must be some balance, Ravenna considered her luck. She only stopped to rest for a short while, taking shelter beneath thicker crowned trees when the downpour became stronger. It was yet predawn when her wearied eyes caught a flickering light in the distance.

The rains returned. A curtain of mist veiled the view of the world from the castle, and the sound of water striking against its stone walls hammered its tune savagely into his mind. Alucard closed the book which had failed to capture his attention, and rising, replaced it onto the shelf. There was peace, there was quietude. And then there was the half-empty beat of his heart, yet to be free of a burden he never asked for.

Why this place? Why, out of all the places and people sent on one quest or another in this whole damned world, did it have to be her? He still felt her presence a day after her departure. Or perhaps it had not even been that long.

As his feet took him to the study, Alucard tried and failed to forget and bury the trembling words thrown at him before he angrily sent her away. They milled and ruminated, leaving him more confused than he ever recalled, and more wanting than he dared to admit.

I feel for you.

And the dreadful irony of it all was that the moment the words left her mouth, he believed them. Alucard had wanted to believe the truth of them, but still failed to go past the wall so suddenly raised between them—one of his own making, at that.

His tired gaze flitted to the window, and the dhampir went to lean with his palms against the pane. Well, she was gone now, and there was nothing he could wisely do about it. Nor did he want to, no matter how vividly her taste lingered on his tongue, no matter how much he wished to feel her hands on him again. Alucard had hoped this was all mainly owed to the remnants of her blood still wreaking havoc on his insides, but the stubborn feeling of loss and need persisted. He’d done it only to protect himself, to keep it all from spiraling into disaster again.

And this is so much better, his divided mind quipped, and he grimaced before lowering his head. Alucard turned and looked to the narrow table, where two wine glasses still sat. Hers was yet half full.

Pride had never been his major sin, and so that prevented Alucard from savagely rejecting the following thought. Had he made some sort of mistake? He could not run after her at the time, with his mind yet on fire and his spirit confused. The damage had been dealt and there was more harm than good to come of it.

It mattered little now. Once the darkness had receded from his manner that evening, he’d sought Ravenna in her chamber, though what for, he knew not. Alucard may have wanted to speak with her further. He may have wished to at least retract his threat and give her more time. But when there was no response, he saw that the woman had kept to his conditions. She was already gone.

With his thoughts as torn and being pulled apart by doubts akin to ravenous wolves, Alucard left the study to pace through the castle. The structure had regained its aura of pressing emptiness, and his ghostly steps were the only ones discernible in the gloom. The castle was barren, its gates barred once more. There surfaced a wish to be free of it, to leave the confines of its walls, where yet another memory of loss now dwelt.

Alucard hastened his stride, and wearing his long coat and sword, went outside. The heavy rain dampened his hair and garment, and he raised his head to the skies, allowing the cold droplets to fall and drench his fevered skin and eyes. He began walking again, straight toward the Belmont Vault.

Once there, he pulled the lever which kindled the lights. What struck him rather unexpectedly was that even here, she still permeated the air. The memory of red forest berries and wine, and something of her on his skin nearly caused him to curl in on himself, such was the longing to taste it again. What have you done to me? Alucard wondered dryly, knowing full well it was unfair to think so. The blood... it’s only because of… the blood. Soon it would weaken, and he would be free of it. Or so Alucard hoped as he absently touched one tome, still spread over the reading table Ravenna used during her time spent here.

Have I made a mistake?

The stubborn question formed again, just as his eye caught another remnant of the past. Not far stood an object that made him frown: a tall, cracked mirror with an unknown script carved into its frame. It was the distance mirror he and Sypha had used to find and capture the castle of his father, once upon a time. It all felt like ages ago.

Alucard tried fighting it. He really did. But the hellish question remained, as did the torment of a longing he failed to completely smother. But there is no other choice. And it was all his doing. He approached the mirror, another thought brimming with ruthless insistence.

If only to know she was alive, if only to see she was well. He removed his glove, and using a clawed finger, etched the required arcane symbols into the metal frame of the mirror. Alucard propped his hands against the metal edges. He looked downward with a sigh, a last moment of hesitation.

“Show me the Styrian,” he spoke the brittle words unto the mirror, and before his eyes, colors and patterns seeped through the reflective surface in uneven waves.

And then there was her face, the eyes Alucard had always found so unnerving and intriguing. His chest burned like a raging inferno, consumed by the vivid image of her so far and out of reach. The longing in his heart quickened, creating a raucous storm that crashed against the walls of him. The scent of longing filled the air, mingling with the bittersweet taste of unfulfilled desires. She was cloaked, and there was resignation in her tired gaze. Alucard could not see more as details blurred.

His hands trembled, and he rued the day she set foot into this tomb. The realization that his fear had gotten the best of him struck its blows, and guilt began its torture. Deep within himself now lay the ruined remnants of a possible friendship. Alucard rested his forehead against the cold glass. His sigh misted the mirror. His hand came splayed over the surface, fingers clawing over the vision of her face. “If only you had less pride, and I more sense...”

I would never harm you.

Alucard stepped back from the mirror as if burnt, and the image disappeared. He placed his head in his hands, and under the weight of his mind, heart and the added burden of his choices, his knees buckled and he fell. But she was alive. She survived the night, and as he had guessed and hoped, this woman seemed to thrive on willpower alone. She would make a successful return and continue her work. She had to.

Now all was well and good, if only he could cease thinking about her. Alucard rose after a good while, wanting to busy himself with the mundane work of arranging items in the vault, an attempt to keep his mind anchored into the present.

No sooner had he turned away from the mirror than a shrieking sound filled his ears. Screaming. There was struggling. And then his heart was beating wildly, as when faced with impending peril. No, these sensations, though alive and real, were not his.

He swiftly approached the distance mirror again, placing his hands on either side. He took a deep breath, and before he could change his mind, spoke the words.

“Show me where she is.”

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#alucard x oc #ruiniel:fanfiction #prickly thorns tender roses

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sunnywiththestars · 5 days

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20 Questions for Fic Writers

Tagged by @perfectlysunny02 <3

How many works do you have on ao3?

What's your total ao3 word count?

28,323

What fandoms do you write for?

currently only 911

Top five fics by kudos:

I'll Take Care Of You (I Swear) - Bucktommy 2.2k

Figuring This Out As I Go - Bucktommy 1.3k

those hands pulled me from the earth - Bucktommy 3.4k

Sorry I'm Late - Whizvin 963 words

Don't Let Me Screw It Up Again - Buddie 5.1k

Do you respond to comments?

i try to! comments mean so much, they always make my day

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Of my works on ao3, probably Soulmates Come and Go. It's a Falsettos Whizvin fic. I love the comment on it that just says "*sobs*"

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I might say those hands pulled me from the earth just cause it being the start of something very sweet

Do you get hate on fics?

I don't think so? I think I did a little bit when I wrote when I was younger, but not anymore

Do you write smut?

nah, just not my thing to write

Craziest crossover:

i don't think i've ever actually written a crossover?

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not to my knowledge

Have you ever had a fic translated?

not that i know of

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

nope

All time favourite ship?

okay- so this is extremely difficult but, whizvin, lesbians from next door, reed900 have a special place in my heart

but of course lately with the purpose of this blog as a 911 blog- buddie and bucktommy are up there too.

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

On the Cliff of Crazy aha, another Falsettos fic. I had this whole big plan for it, but just got busy at the time and never finished it and I haven't done anything with it since 2017

What are your writing strengths?

uh excellent question, next?

but maybe my dialogue? I don't think it sounds awkward and stilted?

What are your writing weaknesses?

i often write sentences that make sense in my head, but not out loud or to anyone else. so i'm working on trying to pick them out to edit those in my own writing.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I think it's cool! I've considered using the language i speak (other than english) in fics but i've had no where to use it that it fully makes sense yet.

First fandom you wrote in?

Supernatural- not on ao3, just on tumblr back in like 2016

Favourite fic you've written?

I'm honestly not sure.

tagging simply anyone that wants to do this!

#fic writer tag #tag game #sunny talks

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lollypopsx · 2 years

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Ok So im obsessed with your brother Harry drabble. And I know you probs have a load of requests cause of ya lil talented self but I just can’t stop thinking about like just fluffy chill drabble of the Styles Fam have Christmas dinner. Its like post meal everyones stuffed, really content and just kinda getting to enjoy something normal

Drabble Request

Drabble Masterlist

Brother!Harry x Y/N - 4.8k+

A/N: I’ve tried to make this fluffy and this is the first thing I’ve written in just over a week, so thank you all for being patient. This is not yet proof read so I may end up changing this a tiny bit at some point!

Warnings: mentions and actions of OCD, social anxiety, medication, grief. But this is mainly calm and fluffy!!

——————

24th December 2018

This was going to be the best Christmas you had ever had in all your eighteen years of existence.

Of course, every year, Christmas was incredible. Surrounded by your most loved family members, the beautiful decorations carefully and specifically placed around the house, they perfectly wrapped gifts under the tree – complete with red ribbon and bows and neatly written tags, the electric fire enhancing the warm glow in the living room, a day full of so much joy, happiness and gratefulness.

Well...every year apart from last year...

23rd December 2017

“You promised Harry! You promised us you’d be home!” You felt your voice painfully screaming down the phone to your brother.

“I know Y/N, I’m sorry. I really didn’t know the storm would come in so quickly. They’ve cancelled all flights and I just...I don’t know when they’ll be running again” He sighs softly, his voice full of regret.

“I told you to check! I told you not to leave it too late because if there were delays then you’d never get back! I told you! I told you and you didn’t listen!” You felt the scratchiness at your throat as you felt angry tears threatening to spill.

“I did listen, I had to work Y/N” He frowns, slumping into his seat on the comfy sofa in his LA house, his heating had been cranked right back up as he watched the flurrying snow storm outside.

“You’re always working! I wish you’d just stop!” You felt the anger firing up within you. You knew this wasn’t your brother’s fault entirely, but you were really struggling this Christmas.

“Y/N...that’s enough” Your mother tells you sternly, her voice giving you plenty of warning to calm down. But right now, you were having none of it.

“Y/N please...” Harry’s fingers curled into his damp hair as he let out a breath, closing his eyes and resting his head back on the sofa.

“You promised! It’s the first Christmas without Robin and now you’re not going to be here too! You’ve ruined it and I hate you!!” You sobbed into the phone, your voice now louder than it had ever been. Harry’s heart completely broke at your words and tone, and especially those three words that escaped your lips. This has been something bubbling under the surface for months. Your Step Dad passing away had been a massive shock and a major change in your life, that you were still struggling to come to terms with.

“Y/N. That’s enough now. Give me the phone please” Anne frowned and stood behind you, resting a hand on your shoulder and holding her hand out for you to give her your phone.

This rage had clearly been building up for a little while, because instead of co-operating and handing your phone over, the steaming anger took over your body and your hand threw your phone to the wall, Harry could only guess what had happened when he heard your phone hit the wall, startling him to sit up in a panic.

“Y/N?...Y/N?!” Harry’s muffled voice came from the now cracked phone, lifeless at the corner of the room, and a slight mark in the wall.

“Harry, I’ll phone you back on my phone in a minute...” Anne frowns. “Y/N upstairs now please...” She shakes her head, although she understood your feelings, she couldn’t let you get away with speaking to people that way. But this had to be dealt with properly.

“Come on...” She whispers, holding your wrists and rubbing her thumbs gently over your pulse. The tears streaming down your face as your sobs escape from your chest as your Mum lead you upstairs, but not to your room, to Gemma’s old bedroom.

Gemma’s old bedroom had been turned into a bit of a den for you. A room of warm glowing lights, soft teddys, blankets, a corner sofa - which was also a very comfortable sofa bed, fidget toys, books and pens with colouring books.

It was a space for you to go when you just needed space to calm down after feeling overwhelmed, or a safe place to go where there was nothing that could cause injuries to you, break, smash or fall and cause a loud noise.

You lay down on the grey sofa, pulling multiple blankets over you just so you could feel some softness against your warm skin. Sobbing quietly into the cushion, squeezing it tightly in your arms. Your Mum left a bottle of water beside you and pressed a gentle kiss to your head, but when you pulled away from her touch, she knew all too well that for this moment you just wanted to be alone.

---

“Mum, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise she would get like that...” Harry frowns, sighing softly as he watched his Mum make a cup of tea on facetime.

“It’s not your fault H, these things happen.” She gives him a gentle smile.

“Are you ok?...” He asks gently, the softness in his voice and the guilt in his eyes.

“I’m alright love, we all knew this Christmas was going to be tough. And we all know you’d be here if you could” She explains while taking her tea and phone to the sofa. “You know she didn’t mean what she said”

“I know Mum, but I should be there. Has she been like this a lot lately?”

“Well, some days are better than others. But she’s still dealing with a lot of change that we can’t reverse. We all are love. She’s in the den for a bit, she just needs space. Look, she’s smashed it to buggery” She sighs softly, picking up the now-smashed phone and showing Harry.

“I’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again Mum, I promise. I’ll be with you all every Christmas, next year I’ll make sure I’m back in the beginning of December. Can you get her to call me later? Please?”

“I will love. I’ll have a talk with her when she’s calm. She’s going back to counselling twice a week after Christmas, I think that will do her the world of good and they said that the anger phase is quite common in the stages of grief. I think she’s going to be a bit quiet this Christmas”

“Dad’s still coming over right though?”

“Of course, and your grandparents too. I’ll miss you though darling” She smiles softly. “I won’t miss you burning my yorkshire puds though.” She teases and Harry chuckles softly with a groan.

“Mum that happened one time!”

“And you’ll never live that down! I’m going to check on Y/N, I’ll get her to call you later after I’ve sorted out a replacement phone for her.”

“Alright, I’ll speak to you later. I miss you and I love you. Next Christmas will be better. I promise.” Harry blows a kiss through the camera before waving tiredly and hanging up.

---

And Harry kept true to his word. He came back early in December, he had a few London based jobs to do during the month, but he would be home with his family for Christmas.

He had arrived to your home on the 21st December, and he was staying til the 28th before heading back to his house in London. But today was Christmas Eve, and the next few days were always full of things to do. Gemma had arrived to stay too, she arrived dead on promised time at 1pm, while you were helping Harry wrap the last of his presents for the other family members.

Once the wrapping had finished, you, Harry and Gemma were in charge of making some desserts for tomorrow. Aside from the usual mince pies and Christmas pudding which your grandmother made every year, the three of you would also always bake something. This year, Gemma was doing a Cheesecake, and you and Harry were making a Chocolate Trifle.

Your Mother had been banished from the kitchen so she could go an relax with a cup of mulled wine, after she had been doing most of the Christmas Dinner preparations all morning.

“Don’t you make a mess!” Was the last thing she told you with a jokey tone before Gemma shut the kitchen doors as Harry set up the speakers, connecting them to his phone. “Y/N you’re in charge of the baking playlist this year!” He grins, handing you his phone as Gemma takes all of the ingredients out of the fridge.

You give him a wide grin and push his phone away, taking yours out of your pocket as Harry shoots you a confused frown. “I made my own this year. With all my favourite artists...” You giggle and link it to the blue tooth speakers.

“Let me have a look at that” He furrows his brow, taking your phone and scrolling through “Oasis...Niall...Louis...Taylor Swift...Liam...Zayn...Coldplay...Ed Sheeran...Hey! None of my songs are on here! Why am I not on here?!” He fakes an offended gasp.

“You are!...Look!” You scroll down to the massive One Direction section

“Doesn’t count” He grumbles before pressing shuffle on the playlist and opening the recipe book, while Gemma started on her Cheesecake. Harry cut up the chocolate log to line the bottom of the dish as you began the chocolate pudding mix.

“Lost my senses I'm defenceless Her perfume's holding me ransom Sweet and sour I devour Lying here I count the hours

Waking up Beside you, I'm my loaded gun I can't contain this anymore I'm all yours, I got no control No control Powerless And I don't care, it's obvious I just can't get enough of you The pedal's down, my eyes are closed No control No control No control”

The three of you danced happily together around the kitchen, singing loudly as you all used a water bottle, a whisk and a remote as microphones. As the song came to an end you all high fived and took a bow to your audience of baking ingredients scattered around the kitchen.

“We have been the Styles Siblings! Thank you, and good night!” Harry shouts with his arms in the air as the three of you end in giggles.

“Harry! Out of my way! I need the oven!” Gemma groans, poking at his hip with the end of her bottle.

“Don’t blame me, blame Y/N! She told me to stand her and whip some cream and not move!” He flashes a cheeky grin.

“I didn’t say that. I said don’t get in my way” You huff softly. “Move out of Gemma’s way you loser” Your small frame nudges him, but his masculine figure didn’t budge at all. “And turn the mixer off! You’ll over whip the cream!” You whine softly and check the time.

“How are we doing for time little Styles?” Gemma glances at the time. “We’re 15 minutes ahead so we’re okay” You confirm with a nod.

“...or we will be if Harry doesn’t MOVE OUT THE WAY!” Gemma groans, biting her tongue to hold down the laugh. Harry had a smug smile on his face as he turned off the mixer, slowly moving out of the way so Gemma could open the oven.

You lifted the mixer to stir the cream gently. “How did I do Boss Lady?” Harry peers over your shoulder as you inspect his mixer duty skills.

“Hmmm, it’s not too bad...can you pass me the vanilla please? It’s behind you” He nods at your instruction as he turns around. You take Gemma’s hand and smear some cream in there, she was about the shriek in surprise but you pressed your fingers to your lips and gently nodded your head towards Harry, who was still rummaging through the cupboard. Gemma understood the mission.

“Here you are” Harry turned around and placed the Vanilla beside you, at the same time, you and Gemma turned to face Harry, each of your hands full of whipped cream as you both pressed a hand to his cheeks.

Harry’s eyes widened in shock, taking a few seconds to realise what the two of you had just done as he chuckled in disbelief. “You cheeky b-”

“Go and get cleaned up Harold! That’s what you get for not listening” You giggle softly. “Oh the war has begun! I’ll get you two back, just you wait and see!” He shook his head with a grin as you and Gemma wiped your hands clean and high fived each other twice.

He took the towel from you as you finished up the dessert, piping perfect swirls of cream on top of the trifle, Harry gently placing it into the fridge until tomorrow and the three of you cleaning up.

“Time check?” Harry asks, helping you wipe down the kitchen sides.

You check your list and the time on your phone. “It’s 5:20pm. We have ten minutes and then it’s film time and then Mum said we can order dinner at 5:30 and they’ll have it delivered by 7pm because they’re always really busy Christmas Eve”

Harry nodded with a smile “Does that mean is Christmas pyjama time?”

“Oh Harry, you know the schedule so well” You smile proudly and ruffle his hair as you head upstairs. Every year since you were born, the three of you wore matching pyjamas on Christmas Eve, watch Love Actually and order a takeaway. So there you all were at 11pm, half asleep, full up on food, alcohol in your glasses (well actually, you were drinking Fanta because alcohol wasn’t advised with your tablets) and the ending credits of the film rolling round.

“Right, off you go you Gremlins. Go to bed” Anne smiles softly before pressing a kiss to each of your heads and shooing you all upstairs. Harry’s bedroom was still the same, as well as your room, and Gemma stayed in the den.

“Wait...” You mumble softly before Harry and Gemma disappear into their rooms. They turn to look at you with a curious gaze, your fingers twiddling together nervously.

“Y/N...What’s wrong?” Harry frowns, noticing your nervous fingers, which was a trait he hadn’t seen all week.

“You know...w-when we were younger and we...we would all stay together? And w-we'd sleep in Gemma’s bed...can we do that again?...Just tonight?” You whisper softly, with a hint of sadness in your eyes.

Harry and Gemma looked between each other and Gemma gave a small smile. “Grab your duvets gang” She smiled and opened her door. The king size sofa bed was pulled out, Gemma shuffled her duvet over to the right, with you and Harry pulling your own duvets in too, and you had a bear with you too...don’t judge. The fairy lights hung round the window and above the sofa was all the light you guys needed.

“Prepare your eyes” you mutter softly before tapping the light switch as usual. On. Off. On. Off.

You slipped next to Gemma, shuffling under your own covers as Harry laid to your right. Please don’t ask. Please don’t ask. Please don’t ask.

“So why the sudden change of sleeping arrangements hm?” Harry asks quietly, turning to lay on his side, his hand keeping his head propped up as you tried to disappear into the deep depths of the duvets. Gemma’s fingers were gently stroking through your curls slowly.

You sigh deeply and look between the two of them nervously. “Because...because it reminds me of being a child when we didn’t have anything to worry about and...and nothing was wrong. And things weren’t...how they are now” You whisper shyly. “It’s just...I was better then...and less anxious and I was nor-”

“Don’t.” Harry cuts you off suddenly. “There is no normal. Normal doesn’t exist, it’s not a thing. You are the way you are and we love you no matter what, you know we do” He whispers softly.

“Yeah...” Gemma whispers gently, still brushing through your hair with her fingertips. “Just look at your brother...he has four nipples and we still love him”

“Hey!” Harry pouts, flicking Gemma before looking back at you.

“Y/N, I know the last 18 months haven’t been easy, they’ve been difficult for all of us, and there’s somethings that, when they change, there’s nothing we can do about it. But you’ve come so far since last Christmas, things are going to get better” Harry explains gently, his voice always giving you the comfort you need.

“Do you really think so?” You whisper softly. “I just feel like sometimes I’m getting nowhere. Like it’s just the same thing over and over again. Like I’m on a loop at the moment.”

“Just remember Y/N, it’s better to be on a bit of loop than to be back at square one. We’re so proud of you” Gem whispers softly, tickling your chin gently with her fingers.

You suddenly sit up with a gasp “Harry what’s the time?!”

He furrows his brows and quickly checks the time 11:52 why?” He frowns.

“We have to put Mum’s presents under the tree before 12am!” You throw the duvet off of you as you stumble out of bed. Harry let out a breathed chuckle as he follows you to your room, waiting for you to flick the light switch on and off twice, before taking found of the full bags of presents from your hands. “You get all of the presents you’ve stashed around your room and I’ll take them all downstairs. Go get back into bed” He sighs gently with a wide, yet sleepy grin.

You nod and pile them all onto your bed before flicking the den light switch twice more and then crawling back into the bed next to Gemma.

The two of you sleepily chatting quietly as you wait for Harry. “And you’ve been feeling okay on these tablets this time?” Gem asks quietly, your heads resting beside each other.

You nod gently ,“Much better this time” You whisper.

Harry placed the presents neatly under the tree and headed back upstairs, hearing the two of you whispering quietly.

“Come on sleepy head” Harry whispers softly as you three shuffle around to get comfy. You drifted off to sleep within minutes, your head resting on Harry’s arm and Gemma’s hand playing with your loose curls.

---

25th December 2018

A painful groan escaped your lips as you reached for your drink at the table. You, your parents, Harry, Gemma and your Grandparents were sat around the dinner table after three very full courses.

“That dinner was amazing, thank you Mum” You yawn softly, sipping on your glass of Pepsi Max and rubbing your eyes tiredly.

Everyone agreed happily. “And thank you kids for the cheesecake and the trifle...and your kitchen concert at 5pm last night” Anne chuckles softly, sipping happily on her glass of wine.

“Kitchen concert? Why does that not surprise me?” Your Dad chuckles, as your Mum takes her phone, pressing play on a video of her hiding behind the door and film the three of you dancing and jumping around the kitchen.

The three of you groan in sync, embarrassment filling your veins “Mum!” You groan.

Harry was leant back in the chair, letting out a deep breath and chuckling as he pushed his bowl away. “We make a great trifle team” Harry grins, raising a hand up to you. You couldn’t help but giggle softly as you high five him twice and reach over to gather all the plates and bowls, then carrying them into the kitchen.

You hadn’t eaten anywhere near as much as the others, because you had a bit of a lack of appetite from your tablets, but you’d still had far too much.

“Everything alright lovie?” Your Dad asks, helping to bring in the rest of the leftover desserts and taking them back to the fridge.

You look up to him with a small smile. “Yeah, I’m alright. Just full up” You nod gently, scraping the plates into the bin before rinsing them under the tap and loading them into the dishwasher.

“You’ve done a great schedule this year darling. What’s next?” He pats your shoulder gently.

“The Queen’s speech, then a film while we play some games, and then a film after that.” You smile softly. Everyone always liked your little Christmas Day schedules, it made you feel useful and it made you calm.

“You’ve done really well this year darling. I’m so proud of you. Of all of you” He taps your cheek gently and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“D-dad....” You whisper softly, looking up at him with warm eyes.

“Yes lovie?” He asks before heading into the living room.

“...Thank you. For sticking around” You whisper, looking down with a smile and pressing your lips together to stop your emotions flaring.

“Hey...I always will be. And don’t you forget it” He walks over, wrapping his arm around you tightly. “Come on now, don’t want to miss the Queen’s speech do we” He chuckles before heading back into the living room.

Everyone’s presents were still scattered around the living room, wrapping paper crumpled up around still some unopened presents under the tree. You had all really spoilt each other this year. Designer labels, and some handmade gifts, experience vouchers and holiday/getaway vouchers as well.

“Tired huh, trouble?” Harry smiles softly as you plop down onto the sofa behind him.

“One way of putting it” You huff softly. “I don’t think I can even look at another roast potato”

Once the Queen’s annual Christmas Speech was over, the Christmas Day TV began, the board games emerged, and after beating Harry twice at the quiz cards that he had brought round, the two of you sat happily on the sofa, while watching Gemma ad your parents divulge in their annual game of darts, your grandparents in their annual game of scrabble.

“You kept your promise this year Haz...” You say softly, leaning your head against the back of the sofa and sipping on your Pepsi.

“What are on about?” Harry raises his brow and looks down at you, both of you resting your feet on the coffee table in front of you.

“Last Christmas you told Mum that this year would be better...you were right” You whisper.

“Oh...yeah. I know. I’m sorry for last year...” He whispers, still feeling the slight pinch of guilt.

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t of reacted that way. But Mum seems a bit happier this year” You look over with a small smile.

“Grief never goes away. But it just get’s easier to manage when you get the proper help” He whispers, with a nod of agreement from you.

“You know I never meant it right?…last year when I said I hated you…” you mutter, biting your nail gently.

“I know love. I love” he whispers, gently prying your nail from your teeth and the two of you sit comfortably in silence for a few minutes.

“Harry...” You clear your throat softly and sit up slightly.

“Y/N...” He raises his brow and looks back down at you.

“Can I..erm...would you mind if I...I maybe came to stay in London with you for a little bit after Christmas?”

“You want t’come stay with me for a bit?” He smiles. “Like a night or two? Is Mum off away somewhere?”

“N-no...no Mum’s not away...or maybe a...maybe a bit longer?” You fiddled with your fingers nervously again, for fear of rejection or him not wanting you to be there because you’d be a burden. But the grin upon Harry’s face said much different. You had only ever stayed with Harry or Gemma in London when Anne was away for a few nights, but you’d stay for an odd night here or there, but you’d never asked to stay longer.

Harry knew how you could be when you weren’t staying at home, how you could get so overwhelmed being out of your daily routine and away from your safe space here. He always encouraged you to stay longer, but he would never push because he wanted you to feel ready in your own time.

“Of course you can...come and stay however long you like...” He beams proudly.

“I’d erm...I’d also really like to...see London from the London Eye...” You mumble shyly. Heights and busy areas had never been your strong points, but you had been talking to your therapist a lot lately about setting yourself goals to try things. But not to rush into them, and to do things at a pace you feel safe and comfortable with.

The look of surprise was obvious on Harry’s face, but he was elated to say the least. “Okay...we can look into that and get something planned...Or maybe we could start with the Shard? It doesn’t move, and there’s less waiting around. Plus we can just turn around and go back down at any point if you need to” He rests his arm over your shoulder and squeezes your arm twice lightly.

You look up at him in relief with a smile. “Yeah...okay” You whisper and take a deep breath.

“Told you...you’re doing so well” He whispers.

“Anything else you think you’d like to do?” He presses curiously.

“Hmm...I’d like to spend time with your friends...or...try and make some of my own” You mutter. “But I...I’m not sure if I’m quite ready for that just yet” You whisper softly, staring down at your lap.

“That’s okay...you’re making really good progress so far...Oh...I forgot! When I was out in London the other day, I found these!” He reaches behind the sofa for a gift bag. It was full of silicone shapes with multiple holes in?

“Harry what are these?” You ask curiously.

“They’re these new fidget toys called Pop It’s, look!” He smiles, taking one from the bag and flipping it over to show the bumps, then pushing it in to create a hole. “There was a woman on this stall in Camden and she was saying how they are great for distractions or anxiety fidget toys. So...I got one of each one she had. I thought they may be better than the Rubik's cube or the spinners because they’ll be much quieter. And there’s enough for you to put in every room, plus all our cars, and leave some at Dad’s and Gemma’s. And I...I already put some in your room at my house”

“Harry...I don’t know what to say...that’s so thoughtful...thank you” You smile, popping the holes back and forth a few times. He was right, it was quite distracting and relaxing.

You rested your head upon Harry’s shoulder and closed your eyes softly. Your hands still fidgeting with the pop it, but contently. Anne lightly placed one of your blankets over your legs.

“Tired lovie?” Your Dad asked, patting your leg gently.

You fluttered your eyes open gently and shook your head softly. “Just full up” You whisper. But the truth was, you were exhausted. You weren’t drained like you usually felt, but Christmas was always a very busy time of year, so you always felt crashed by Christmas night. But it was always so worth it.

“Don’t fall asleep just yet Little Styles” Harry nudges you softly. “I want you all to hear something first.” He coughs slightly and picks up his guitar from the stand by the sofa.

“So I...I wrote this song after a FaceTime conversation with Y/N a few weeks back. Two weeks before I was coming back, and we were talking about a lot of things, mainly me coming home, and all the progression you’ve made lately. But I was in Arizona and...yeah. I write this song. It’s called Canyon Moon and I think it’s going to go on the next album...

Harry’s fingers began to pluck at the strings of his guitar with a smile on his face, it was definitely more upbeat that the songs on the last album...

“You gotta see it to believe it Sky never looked so blue So hard to leave it That's what I always do So I keep thinking back to A time under the canyon moon

The world's happy waiting Doors yellow, broken, blue I heard Jenny saying "Go get the kids from school" And I keep thinking back to A time under the canyon moon

I'll be gone too long from you

Staring at the ceiling Two weeks and I'll be home Carry the feeling Through Paris, all through Rome And I'm still thinking back to A time under the canyon moon

I'm going, oh, I'm going I'm going, oh, I'm going I'm going, oh, I'm going home

Quick pause in conversation She plays songs I've never heard An old lover's hippie music Pretends not to know the words And I keep thinking back to A time under the canyon moon

I'll be gone too long from you

I'm going, oh, I'm going I'm going, oh, I'm going I'm going, oh, I'm going home

I'm going, oh, I'm going I'm going, oh, I'm going I'm going, oh, I'm going home (hey)”

You grin tiredly as Harry finishes the song. “It sounds incredible Harry...”

“Merry Christmas little sister” He smiles.

“Merry Christmas Harry” You whisper. “Sing something else...” You mutter as you close your eyes and rest your head on his shoulder once again.

This was a perfect Christmas for you, a magical day, stuck to the schedule, no panics or worries, and a day surrounded by those you love, and thinking of those we love who are no longer here.

——————

Tag List: @harryhoney-bee - @sunandherflores - @beachwood-cafe - @damnasstyles - @awesomebooklover17 - @hazgoldenstyles - @evanjh - @harrysbracelet - @nerdypartytrashpsychic - @harryssweatcreaturee - @hibaiqbal12 - @ayeshathestyles - @michellekstyles - @rach2602 - @randomwriter1021 - @elizabethrosecresswell - @izziestyles - @pracsstyles - @florencepughily - @finelinevogue - @justalostgirl - @handsomerry - @watermelonlovershigh - @harrys-cherrry - @crustyblackvans - @kaitieskidmore1 - @vanteguccir - @vodka-popsicles - @emlovesharrystyles

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bnhasimpgirltm · 4 years

Text

Why Is It That You Only Ever Hurt Me? (Part 2)

Parings: Bakugo x Reader (Past), Yo Shindo x Reader (Present)

Warnings: none

Type: Oneshot

Genre: angst? (this hurt my heart to write)

A/N: I had to use Yo Shindo for this because Bakugo DESPISES this guy. It might have been a bit much to do the entire song, but I didn’t want to remove anything because I really like how well this songs fits. I just didn’t write this very well, and it feels a little repetitive, but I think that’s what adds to it. Let me know what you think, and as always, Enjoy!

Song: “Heavy”- Linkin Park ft. Kiiara (2017)

note: the last lyric line “If I just let go I’ll be set free” was added by me so I could tie the story together nicely. It isn’t actually sung at the end in the song. I cried while writing this oh crap.

Read Part 1 HERE

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

I don't like my mind right now

Ever since you broke up with him, Bakugo had been miserable. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t function. The only thing he could do was train. He had lost you and he couldn’t get you back.

Stacking up problems that are so unnecessary

He still loved you, and you didn’t love him back anymore. One sided love creates all sorts of problems. So many problems piled up.

Wish that I could slow things down

He wishes that he could take back what he said. He wishes that he didn’t speak so impulsively, that he slowed down and though about his words before they left his mouth. But he couldn’t turn back the clock, so the only thing he could do was let go.

I wanna let go but there's comfort in the panic

He wanted to let you go, but he couldn’t. He wanted to hold onto you for as long as possible, and every waking moment that he wasn’t training, Bakugo as looking through your social media.

And I drive myself crazy

You had removed all of the pictures of the two of you together after the break up. He missed seeing his tag on your photos. He missed being able to retrace your entire relationship just from your social media page. He missed you.

Thinking everything's about me

Bakugo still had all of the pictures with you on his pages. He knew that if he archived them it meant that you were really gone forever. He didn’t want to think that it was all over, even if deep down he knew the truth. He wanted to hold onto these last threads of your broken relationship. Bakugo knew he had to let go, so he tapped on one of his posts with you in it.

Yeah, I drive myself crazy

He knew you were gone, but he couldn’t do it. Bakugo couldn’t wipe you from his life, so he exited Instagram and opened messages. His finger hovered over your name. He wanted to text you and tell you how much he missed you, how much he loves you.

'Cause I can't escape the gravity

He couldnt escape you. Everywhere he went he saw you. Even if you weren’t really there, to him, every place you went together had a small piece of you.

I'm holding on

When he saw you for real the first time after the breakup, he thought it was his imagination running wild again. That was until you looked at him. Imaginary you never did that. Bakugo knew that it was really you. He thought that you had finally given up running from him, and that maybe he could move on because you had too.

Why is everything so heavy?

But he couldn’t, because when he saw you, his heart ached so much that it felt like it was physically hurting. It felt like a weight heavier than anything he had ever lifted was placed on his back. He knew that he couldn’t let go. He couldn’t set himself free just yet.

Holding on

He couldn’t let you go. It had been months since the breakup, and he still couldn’t let you go. He still held onto the hope that you still loved him as much as he still loved you.

So much more than I can carry

He wanted to go and apologize to you, to take the weight off of his back, to end it for real. To tell you that he was sorry for everything, and that he wouldn’t bother you anymore.

I keep dragging around what's bringing me down

But he couldn’t. Bakugo couldn’t bring himself to go and talk to you. Not after everything he did. So he let the weight sit on his back.

If I just let go, I'd be set free

Everytime he saw you, he considered finishing it for real, to tell you that he was sorry and move on. He could be set free from his guilt.

Holding on

But he didn’t want to. He was going crazy, trying to keep this nonexistent relationship alive, but Bakugo didn’t care that he was being insane. He just needed something to care about, because the only thing that he truly cared about was gone. So if the only thing Bakugo cared about was this pretend relationship he still had going with you, so be it.

Why is everything so heavy?

When you saw Bakugo, you felt your heart fall. He still made you feel this way, even after all this time. Even after you told yourself that you had moved on.

You say that I'm paranoid

Everywhere you went, you saw him. His blonde hair poking up between the people in the crowds. His black tanktop passing by on the trains. Every time you saw him somewhere, you felt haunted by a ghost. A ghost from your past that you couldn’t let go.

But I'm pretty sure the world is out to get me

You hated that you couldn’t face him. You were too scared of what he would say to you. You were too scared that he would say that he had moved on.

It's not like I make the choice

But you were more scared of what you would say to him. Because if he moved on, then that meant that you would have to move on.

To let my mind stay so fucking messy

So you pushed your emotions back like you always did and continued to live your life with thoughts of Bakugo constantly ravaging your mind.

I know I'm not the center of the universe

You didn’t mean anything to him, he made that clear, but he was the center of your universe. He was your everything.

But you keep spinning 'round me just the same

You knew he didn’t love you, but deep down, you still loved him. You knew it would take a long time to move on, so you started dating again. Hoping you could move on and find someone else to love. And you did, you found someone else.

I know I'm not the center of the universe

Bakugo knew that he didn’t mean anything to you, you made that clear by avoiding him for months.

But you keep spinning 'round me just the same

Bakugo knew you didn’t love him, but he still loved you. So he kept himself away from the dating scene.

I'm holding on

Bakugo told himself multiple times that he wasn’t dating because he ddin’t have time, but in reality, he still held onto the hope that you would want him back.

Why is everything so heavy?

Until he saw that Ketsubutsu guy, Yo Shindo, walk into the common room. He wondered what that idiot was doing at UA, until he saw you smile and walk towards him. Then it clicked.

Holding on

Shindo grabbed you in a hug, and threw a dirty look over your shoulder straight at Bakugo. The worst part was that you jumped into his arms willingly.

So much more than I can carry

He wanted to say that he was okay with it. He wanted to just roll his eyes and walk away.

I keep dragging around what's bringing me down

But he couldn’t lie to himself, he was jealous. Not just jealous, Bakugo was enraged that you were hanging out with that Shindo guy. He was enraged that he had been replaced.

If I just let go, I'd be set free

So instead of going back to his dorm, he followed you and Shindo.

Holding on

Bakugo watched as Shindo did everything he didn’t. Shindo held your hand and talked with you. He kissed your cheek and laughed when you said something funny. He bought you lunch and gave you a flower.

Why is everything so heavy? I know I'm not the center of the universe

He saw the way you looked at Shindo. Like he was the center of your universe.

But you keep spinning 'round me just the same

It was the way you used to look at Bakugo.

I know I'm not the center of the universe

He watched as Shindo looked at you the same way. The way Bakugo looked at you. The way Bakugo still looked at you.

But you keep spinning 'round me just the same

He knew that he wasn’t the center of your universe anymore, but for some reason, he still couldn’t let go, no matter how much he tried.

And I drive myself crazy

He hated himself so much for losing the best thing that ever happened to him. He hated himself for screwing up everything good in his life.

Thinking everything's about me

He hated that he couldn’t get over himself just to keep you with him. He hated that the weight of your breakup was still tied to his back and that it wasn’t getting any lighter after seeing that you had moved on.

Holding on

Years passed, and Bakugo never got into another relationship.

Why is everything so heavy?

He was still dragging around the weight on his back. It never got lighter. Not when he immersed himself in his hero work, or when he saw you and Shindo on the news together as the hero couple that everyone loved.

Holding on

Bakugo felt like he was being crushed, but he continued on with his life. Until one day, he got a letter in the mail. “You are invited to the wedding of Yo Shindo and (y/n) (l/n).” It was at this moment that the weight became too heavy. It crushed him, and Bakugo Katsuki, the pro hero Ground Zero who feared nothing, broke down into sobs.

So much more than I can carry

His entire world shattered that day. It should have been his name with yours on that invite. It should have been him who you were marrying. Bakugo was so overcome with sadness that he did the only thing that he could when he was sad. He masked it as anger. Why the hell would you invite him to your wedding? Was this some sort of joke?

I keep dragging around what's bringing me down

Bakugo was angry, but he still loved you even after all this time, so he went to your wedding, and he watched as you walked down the aisle to marry a man that wasn’t him.

If I just let go, I'd be set free

He watched as you and Shindo looked into each others eyes with so much love that he regretted his decion to attend the wedding. Bakugo regretted not tearing the invite in half and shoving it into the recycle bin.

Holding on

He listened as you recited your vows and said “I do”. He listened as he heard the priest say “Any objections?”, and Bakugo wanted to stand up and proclaim his love for you. He wanted to stand up and tell you that you belonged with him. To take you back and love you just as much as you loved him back at UA.

Why is everything so heavy?

But the he remembered what you said to him all those years ago. He remembered: “Were you always this selfish?”, and Bakugo made his decision. For once in his life, it wasn’t selfish. He owed it to you. Maybe the selfish part of him wanted you to be with him, but the part of him that still loved you and wanted the best for you was telling him to let you be happy, so he stayed silent.

Why is everything so heavy?

As Shindo swept you into a kiss, it was all crystal clear to Bakugo. He would never get over you. He would carry the weight of your breakup for the rest of his life. Maybe the weight would get lighter, and maybe it would only get heavier, but it would always be there.

Why is everything so heavy?

Bakugo finally realized that you had moved on from him. You had Shindo. You didn’t need him anymore.

If I just let go I’ll be set free.

You had finally let go. You were finally free.

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destielfanfic · 3 years

Text

My First Destiel Fic, vol.5

Thank you guys for sharing your memories! My First Destiel Fic is a nostalgic survey open to any destiel fan and has a simple goal - to celebrate fics that were our gateway into a wonderful world of destiel shipping. Thank you, fic writers, you are our heroes!

from @chamomilecas

hi! i joined this fandom in mid 2017, so just before season 12 came out! the first deancas fic i ever read was actually t&s (ik ik) but since it’s v.ooc imo id like to suggest the second and third fics i ever read!

shortskirts verse - twentysomething (on ao3) first hs/college au i read and tbh i don’t remember much apart from it being super sweet and well written!

waves - wormstaches (on ao3) i think everyone has heard of this au tbh and my god it is amazingly written! also features pan!cas in a lot of ugly sweaters (which i love sm and reminds me a lot of myself eheh) basically these fics made me addicted to the college au genre till this day lolol - as well as pan!cas representation !!

All fic titles link directly to the fic, when possible, we have added link to our review or submitted rec post.

Twist and Shout by gabriel & standbyme [NC-17, 97,500 word count, posted 2012] (our review)

What begins as a transforming love between Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak in the summer of 1965 quickly derails into something far more tumultuous when Dean is drafted in the Vietnam War. Though the two both voice their relationship is one where saying goodbye is never a real truth, their story becomes fraught with the tragedy of circumstance. In an era where homosexuality was especially vulnerable, Twist and Shout is the story of the love transcending time, returning over and over in its many forms, as faithful as the sea.

Shortskirts Verse by twentysomething [NC-17, 22,400 word count, posted 2011] (our review)

So, they're in high school, and then they're in college, and it's mostly not about Taylor Swift, except when it is.

Waves by wormstaches [M, 54,100 word count] (our review)

Dean Winchester is the average guy: football, college, kid brother, nice car, girls and beer; his life is black and white, that is until he meets Castiel Collins: pretentious, slutty, sweater-wearing genius, who won’t even take the time to look up at him from his obscure novel while he insults him. And then everything is shades of gray and Dean is drowning.

from @candy-gothic

My first fic was 300 Things by cautionzombies. I can't remember when I read that but im sure it's not that long since I only started reading fanfictions around 2013-2014. It was my gateway in the world of fanfictions. I started watching SPN around that time too. Such shame it's not in ao3 anymore (or is it?) bc i really want to reread it again.

300 Things by cautionzombies [NC-17, 76,500 word count] (our review) NOTE - the fic is indeed deleted from the hosting platforms by the author. This is our gentle reminder to always download your favorite fic and leave nice comments to the authors!

Dean’s life at twenty-four makes him feel like he’s forty–he works two jobs to help pay bills for his house and put his genius little brother through private school, and has spent six years (on and off, let’s be honest) working on his mechanical engineering degree at KU. With so much of his life devoted to his family, Dean has little time in his schedule for class and no time for social interaction. Then, while getting his classes together for the fall, he finds himself in a do-or-die situation: He must take his last literature class now, his spring already filled with those left for his major…except that none of the English classes will fit his schedule.

from @obsessedkuroi

So, hey, saw the request. I've sorta been hovering around the fandom since...maybe 2009? 2010? I know I caught up on the first 4/5 seasons in a blitz of a couple weekends of binging and crying during my college days, and then went sobbing to ffnet (ah, AO3, not yet around at the time) to find Destiel fics to comfort myself with. After all this time, Tripping by Hatteress is one fic I still come back to reread. That, and the little additions. It's one of the few fics I think did an insane amount of justice to Dean as he is in Canon, repressed emotions and all. A second one...I suppose, as Christmas has just passed, this short gem of emotion is perfect for the season. It's called Where The Sea and City Meet by RC_McLachlan and it still makes me tear up reading it.

If you ever want any more old school Destiel fics (like, back from 2008-2010, when I dived headfirst into the fandom) hit me up. I have an entire google doc filled with just Destiel recs I made for a friend eight years ago. Thanks for all the fic recs! I'm way out of the loop on Destiel fics these days, I dropped out of being an active member of the fandom some six years ago and just recently got dragged kicking and screaming back in (and rewatching the series from the beginning cause I'm a masochist)

Kuroi

Tripping by hatteress [NC-17, 49,000 word count, Tripping Verse has 6 works and 76,600 word count, posted 2012] (our review)

What do you do when the Universe itself seems to have decided you belong with your very stoic, very angelic, very MALE hunting companion? Dean’s about to find out.

Where the Sea and City Meet by RC_McLachlan [M, 3,000 word count, posted 2010]

Castiel risked his life by going back to 1982 to find Dean's Christmas gift, and all Dean got him was a coat.

If you enjoyed the fic, please drop by the archive (AO3) and let the author know with your comments and/or kudos! And if you found our recs useful, let us know by Liking and/or Reblogging our posts!

You can find all My First Destiel Fic posts under this tag!

#destiel #destielfanficnet #my first destiel fic #hey guys #these are all submissions we have so far #we are waiting for more!#chamomilecas #candy-gothic #obsessedkuroi

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kyber-crystal · 4 years

Text

➳ good enough || s.r.

summary: after a long week you’re left completely exhausted. steve comforts you and helps you unwind.

words: ~1.6k

warnings: slight mentions of violence, angst, angst-to-fluff, a lil friends-to-lovers (i’m SORRY literally all of my oneshots are some variation of this but i just can’t resist), minor age gap? (if you call 5 years a lot). also civil war happened but they resolved it so 2017 au teeheeeeee

a/n: this sucked omg. why is my writing going downhill. also this is a red-room-turned-agent-reader who helped steve adjust when he came out of the ice bc i love cliche love backstories hehe...i tried to be very descriptive here but that failed oops. this is prolly one of my worst fics ever (it’s unedited) but my other one got deleted so i’m uploading this in its place!

Steve knew something was wrong the minute you came back from your mission. You always acted a bit off the first few days following your return, but for some reason, today seemed different. For the past week you'd been blatantly avoiding his gaze, refusing to meet his eye unless forced to.

You don’t even return Sam and Bucky’s sarcastic one-liners - and you always make sure to send a cheesy joke right back at them. It’s not typical for you to be so quiet and reserved like this; frankly, it scared him.

He knows that as a former Red Room assassin, you never had it easy. As the youngest of the twenty-eight dancer-disguised warriors, you were merely eight years old when you were admitted (Natasha was thirteen). At eight, there was much you didn’t know. You were naive, easily shaped to conform to the strict rules they’d set out for you.

But despite all the hell you’d gone through in the past, you managed to find it in your heart to forgive and create a compassionate nature towards others. Especially him. He always wondered what he deserved to get someone like you-- he felt more than lucky to have you in his life.

It was 4 a.m, and his insomnia was at its worst. It had peaked ever since he’d come out of the ice - he was 27, had so much of his life before him before it was abruptly put to a stop. But then he met you, with your warm eyes and kind smile that was such a sharp contrast to the girl you used to be.

The sound of muffled shouts coming from across the compound makes him look up - he sets down his mug of coffee and immediately heads down the hall to see what’s going on.

Steve carefully pushed open the glass doors to the training facility, seeing you standing in front of a punching bag and attacking the hell out of it with an almost murderous look in your eyes - one he’d never seen before. The tape around your knuckles were splattered with your crimson blood. Despite the dim lighting, he could see the outlines of fresh bruises all over your arms and shoulders. The sight made bile rise up in his throat. He felt his heart break.

Every heavy blow of your fists was accompanied by a ground-shaking boom that echoed across the gym, unleashing the monster trapped inside. You pick up the pace and increase your speed, channelling all your pent-up anger and frustration and guilt into what you were doing.

It hurts. You would give anything to get rid of the pain. It hurts like hell, but you would trade living a regret-ridden life for a guilt-free one in a heartbeat if that’s what it takes. Besides, you’ve experienced far worse before-- six-inch knife wounds, bullets to the abdomen and upper arms, broken ribs and noses. This should be a walk in the park.

The concerned super-soldier stood several feet away and observed you, silently watching you murdering the poor punching bag that’s barely withholding all the fury you’ve poured into pummeling it; it was about to burst at the seams.

“Y/N.” You didn’t hear him and kept going, so he repeated himself again. “Y/N.”

“What?” you snapped, keeping your gaze trained in front of you. “What the hell do you want?”

“Shouldn’t you be in bed? It’s late. What’s keeping you up at this hour?”

“Nothing,” you replied plainly, but he caught the brief flash of a grief-stricken look cross over your expression and your eyes glaze over, “I’m fine. Leave me alone.”

“You clearly aren’t. Y/N, talk to me. Please.”

“I told you, I’m,” you increased the force of your fists with each word you spoke, as you felt your eyes stinging, “just, fine!”

“Y/N...” he whispered, so softly, as if he was afraid he’d break you with a single sentence.

That was the last straw. The tears spilled over. Your vision began to blur as you didn’t even bother to wipe them away. The broad-shouldered super-soldier, your fists, and the punching bag and everything insight are turned into blurry, shapeless blobs. You try blinking them away but it was no use; but you keep going.

“Please tell me what’s going on. Tell me what’s wrong...please don’t shut me out. I only want to help.”

“Leave me alone,” you repeated with a growl, arms now aching with the pain of a thousand tiny needles. But he doesn’t, and he stays firmly rooted in his place. You hastily wiped at your nose with your hands. “For gods’ sake, Rogers, leave,” smack “me,” smack “alone.”

Your last punch was so hard the walls shook and caused Steve to take a step back in alarm. But after that, all the fight is gone from you. Your knees buckle from underneath you and your shoulders slump in defeat and you crumble to the floor. A sound so raw and hoarse escapes your lips and it sounds nothing near human.

The metallic scent of blood mixed with your salty tears and sweat overwhelms your senses and makes your head spin. Suddenly the act of taking in a single breath seems impossible and your chest tightens, preventing you from being able to breathe properly.

The ever-so-fragile wall that had been struggling to hold your tears at bay finally broke.

Heaving, wrenching sobs clawed their way up your throat and tore through your already weary heart - escaping in broken, agonized cries and heart-wrenching howls that make Steve feel like his heart is deliberately shattering into a million, tiny fragments of glass. He doesn’t know what to do because for the first time in his life, the woman he’s always seen with her head held high and an unmatched confidence that could almost put the President to shame was vulnerable, letting it all out at once.

Steve doesn’t ask any questions nor does he push to to speak up, but silently comes over to you and wraps you into a tight hug, cradling you against his chest. Your arms find their way around his torso, pressing your forehead against the soft cotton of his T-shirt as his free hand makes a gentle trek up and down your back.

As if you were a delicate flower, he carefully brought your head closer and pressed a kiss to your temple, letting his lips linger for a second longer than normal to reassure you. To reassure you that everything would in fact, be okay. Because he was there.

“Don’t leave me...please don’t leave me,” you choked out as he tightened his hold on you. “Please don’t leave.”

“I won’t, darling, I promise,” he cooed, lips brushing against your forehead, “it’s okay. I’m here. You’re okay, we’re okay. Everything’s gonna be just fine.”

Then, the suffocating pressure is eased off your chest, little by little. You began sinking into the comfort of his warm arms and soothing words. And with his reminder that you didn’t have to go through hell and back alone, because he’d be there, you began to heal.

...

ONE YEAR LATER

“...Joining the Avengers has been one hell of a ride. I went through hell and back, had my fair share of ups and downs and fought in countless wars. But along the way I’ve been blessed with the privilege of getting a built-in second family and making some of the best friends I’ve had in my life. I met my soulmate.” Steve gazed down at you warmly as you spoke, “I honestly had no idea things would ever work out like this but now, I can’t imagine a life without knowing who all these amazing people are.

“It’s been 15 months since the day he saved me.” Everyone immediately fell silent. "I had hit a very, very low point in my life and I was just about ready to give up. It was like I was screaming into a void and nobody was there to catch me when I fell. I felt so helpless and lost. Stuck. If Steve hadn’t come along at the time he did...I don’t know what would’ve have happened instead. So, Steve...I want to thank you...for everything. I can’t even begin to list all the things you’ve sacrificed or done for my sake and I owe you. From this point forward I promise to always stick by your side no matter how rough things get. I promise to love you at your best and your worst; whenever you need me I’ll always be here. No amount of anything I do will ever match what you’ve done, but I can promise you this: I’ll love you until the day I die, ‘til death do us part.

“’Till death do us part,” Steve repeated, smiling through the tears in his eyes. “God, I love you.”

You broke into a gorgeous grin that had him weak at the knees. “I love you too.”

“The rings, please,” Fury nodded over in Peter’s direction, and the teenager handed them over to the two of you. “Agent Y/N Y/L/N, do you take Captain Steven Grant Rogers to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do,” you said softly, as you put on Steve’s ring.

He turned to the super-soldier. “And Captain Steven Grant Rogers, do you take Agent Y/N Y/L/N to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Steve took your hand in his and slid the diamond ring over your finger, “I do.”

“Very well, then,” Fury smiled widely, a rare sight. “You may now kiss your bride.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Steve rushed forward and pulled you close, dipping you down low before bringing you back up and kissing you passionately.

His warm lips serving as a reminder of all that you still had left to live for, that you had so much of your life ahead of you. A life with him.

...

general tags(this is from my old taglist spreadsheet, including mutuals who might be interested): @rynhaswritersblock @purpleskiesstorm @pies-writes-and-more @wxstedhexrt @captainchrisstan @sandystoriess @naomiiiiiiiiiii04 @patzammit @capcapcapsicle @wheresmyjae @thinkingofbuckybarnes @carryonmywaywardbucky @musicalkeys @buckybarnesthehotshot @tombob2005 @zaddychris @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho @sylvie-writes @sis-it-dont-add-up @tonystankschild @sunstalgia

steve rogers/chris evans tags: @speechlessxx @angrybirdcr @stainedsouvenir @marvelfanatic16

permanent tags<3: @poesflygirl @sandwitch-god

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s-creations · 3 years

Text

In Sickness, In Health Chapter 4 - Chicken Pox

Fandom: DuckTales 2017 / The Three Caballeros Rating: General Audience Relationships/Pairings: José Carioca/Donald Duck/Panchito Pistoles Additional Tags: getting sick, being cared for, mental health, injury, sore throat, common cold, chicken pox, broken bones, whooping cough, taking care of others.

Part of a Series Called: We’re the Three- Sorry, Six Caballeros!

Author’s Note: I just want everyone to be aware...as I was writing/posting this, I have over 30 bug bites on my legs at this moment... This was an interesting story to write with itchy legs. XD

Huey knew something was wrong when he couldn’t enjoy his favorite meal one night. Something Donald took notice of as well.

“Are you feeling alright Huey?” The older duck asked.

“I’m not feeling very hungry… I guess.” Huey held still as a hand was placed on his forehead.

“Hmm… You’re feeling a little warm. Alright, let me give you some aspirin and you’re going straight to bed.”

“But, it’s Friday! I haven’t finished my homework.”

“Suck up.” Louie muttered. Wincing when he caught José’s disapproving look.

“I’m sure a good night's sleep, you’ll feel better. Good enough to finish your homework in no time.” Panchito attempted to appease the stressed duckling.

“...Are you sure?”

“Absolutely! You’ll wake up feeling great.”

It was the first time Huey realized that adults could be wrong. Because he woke up early the next morning, before the sun was even up, feeling worse.

He thought his skin was on fire. Itchy and irritating, Huey’s first instinct was to furiously scratch at his skin. Only to immediately regret it. Feeling like the fire had turned into an inferno on his skin. He was unaware he was screaming until Donald was attempting to calm him down, pulling the duckling down from the top bunk. Everywhere he was being touched hurt, Huey letting out a weak sob that being held found no comfort.

“Chicken pox.” Donald whispered frantically.

“I’m already calling the ER to see if someone can see him.” Panchito commented. Phone pressed against his ear as he skillfully wrapped Huey in a thick blanket. Which somehow comforted Huey as the pressure seemed to help. But caused him to panic slightly when he couldn’t move all that well.

It was a quick conversation between the roaster and whomever was on the other end. Panchito, Donald, and Huey piling into the car. The duckling rested on Panchito’s lap while Donald drove. José and the two remaining ducklings standing on the porch. Worried as they watched the car drive off.

For Huey, the drive was a bit of a blur. Drifting in and out of sleep. Waking only when a part of the irritated skin had something brushed against it, the burn flaring up again. He was only aware when they arrived at the hospital when the bright lights hit his face. Even being in a well lit area, the duckling was having difficulty paying attention. He heard the doctor say something about treatment and having to be separated from everyone for a few days, if not a week.

“Do you have any ideas where he would have caught this?” The doctor had asked.

“Someone from school?” Donald gave a weak reply.

“But no one else has called in.” Panchito whispered worriedly.

“We will send an email to his principal and I would recommend you do the same. But, the most I can advise is that he gets plenty of rest, warm baths with the medication, and ointment every morning. Clean his sheets, as well as his brothers. And have Huey sleep away from them. Have all adults had the illness?”

Both adults answered with a nod.

“Then you all can be around Huey. But I would keep it to one so as to not raise points of contact.”

They were soon leaving. The adults talk while Huey is on the verge of falling asleep again.

“The couch would work.” Panchito offered.

“What about the bath? Our bathroom is the only one with a tub. Moving Huey could cause the other two to catch it.”

“So…”

“Huey gets our room. José can sleep with the other two and you can sleep on the couch. I can stay with Huey.”

“Do you really trust the four of us to the kitchen?” Panchito smiled weakly.

“I think it’s a risk we’re gonna have to take.”

“How about I stay with Huey? I had to help a few younger cousins when they caught it. And this pequeño bebé seems about as rambunctious as them.”

Donald frowned as they climbed into the car. “Are you sure? What about your job?”

“I have a few days off, it’ll be fine.”

Huey fell back asleep as the car started up and they drove off.

____________________________

If the duckling thought the illness was bad, then the medicine was down right annoying. The powder used in the bath water smells strong and leaves his skin dry. Then the ointment that would be applied would stick his feathers together. As well as his clothing. Even then, Huey would have hours in which his skin would be on fire and he couldn’t do anything about it. All reaching a point where the duckling had to wear oven mitts so he wouldn’t unconsciously scratch.

Huey had been placed in the adult’s bedroom with Panchito acting as his caretaker. Having placed another t.v. into the room, with a stack of the duckling’s favorite movies next to it. Donald had also gone to the library to check out what he could. But nothing could keep the crawling skin from Huey. Every time he started to relax, his skin would flare up and it took everything not to scream again. Either in pain or frustration.

After a few afternoons of this system, Huey was close to breaking. Everything about this was driving him absolutely crazy!

“Alright, lunch is ready.” Panchito walked back over to the bed. Carrying the tray of food over that had just been passed through to Donald.

“‘M not hungry.” Huey replied weakly. Laying flat on his back and staring up at the ceiling.

“Uncle Donald made your favorite. Grilled cheese with carrot sticks. Yum!” The rooster paused hearing a small sniff coming from the duckling. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

“I hate this! I’m itchy, I’m sticky, my skin hurts and I’m hot! I don’t want to do this anymore!” Huey sobbed, arms flapping. The oven mitt covered arms making a hard ‘flump’ against the bed.

Panchito immediately picked the crying duckling up and cradled him close. “Shhh… Shhh… You’re going to be okay. I know you’re uncomfortable, I know it’s itchy. But you’ve been doing a great job and I’m so proud of you…”

“I don’t like it…”

“I know…”

Huey was surprised when Panchito moved back towards the door with the duckling still in his arms. Sticking his head out and calling, “Donald?”

“Yeah?’

“Can you get me an ice pack?”

“Oh, sure. Give me a second.”

While they waited, Panchito hummed softly while swaying slowly. Huey relaxing, eyes closing slightly as his head laid on the rooster’s shoulder. Who paused when Donald’s hand stuck in, ice back in hand. Which Panchito took and moved back to the bed. Gently laying down with Huey resting on his chest. The duckling was about to question what was happening when the ice pack was gently rubbed over the inflamed back.

It was immediately relaxing. Huey smiled weakly, eyes closing as he further melted into the red feathered chest. Falling asleep the easiest he had in the past few days.

Huey was absolutely relieved when the bumps and itchy skin finally disappeared. Getting a clean bill of health from the doctor’s office.

“I don’t know Huey. You were really making a fashion statement with those oven mitts.” Louis smirked. Taking Huey’s playful punch easily.

#donald duck #josé carioca #panchito pistoles #jose carioca/donald duck/panchito pistoles #The Three Caballeros #the three gay caballeros #s-creations #fanfiction

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sugarlino · 4 years

Text

we all lie ♛ hhj

prologue

genre(s) : angst , sky castle!au , school!au , strangers to lovers!au , best friends to enemies!au

pairing(s) : reader x hyunjin , reader x everyone eventually tbh ;-;

w.c. : ≈ 1k

desc. : welcome to SKZ castle. you’re on your own now, with no family to depend on. you have your friends by your side though, right?

warning(s) : mentions of suicide , mentions of death , mentions of guns , mentions of religious beliefs , funeral setting , a few lame time skips because this is a prologue before the real action starts :’)

a/n : this is the prologue and sort of a sneak peek to a series i am starting, inspired by my favorite k-drama of all time, sky castle! this is kind of focused on the children more than the parents, unlike the actual drama, and the plot is kinda similar to sky castle (there are quite a few changes though) so if you don’t want any spoilers for the show, i suggest you don’t read this series!

December 2017

“Amen.”

Everyone repeated the word back, but you remained silent. The heavy rain felt like hail ― no, chunks of salt ― as the droplets hit your body, you being the only one there without an umbrella. Was staying dry really the important thing here? Your mother was gone, and the only thing everyone else cared about was keeping their designer clothing dry. How could they be so selfish? Or were you overreacting? It’s not like using an umbrella at an outdoor funeral was illegal...

Your thoughts were interrupted by a gentle hand on your wet shoulder. When you turned around, you saw your best friend Rosie’s mother, who was a friend of your mother’s as well, staring at you with pity in her eyes. She looked sad, but the way her heavy makeup wasn’t running in the slightest was proof that she hadn’t shed a single tear yet.

Oh, you poor thing, you poor poor thing, she probably thought. Left motherless before even starting high school. Left without any family at all, your brother having run away to avoid going to university and live with his girlfriend. Your father was an absolute coward, leaving the funeral early to get the paperwork ready to move out of SKZ Castle.

“I’m not going with you,” you firmly told your father. I’m not going with you and leaving my whole life behind because you feel guilty. I know you know this is all your fault!” you screamed at him. “You coward. You’re leaving because you’re afraid of what everyone here will think of you, right, father? Everyone knows you’re at fault more than anyone. Father, this is your fault. Just leave without me, please.”

You felt your eyes sting with more tears at the memory of the night it all happened. About how you woke up at the sound of the gunshot, but went right back to sleep. You assumed your father was letting some steam off, as he and your mother had had a pretty harsh argument daily for the past few days. Your mother left the world that very moment by her own hands and your father’s own gun, and you went right back to sleep because you just didn’t bother checking.

You sunk to the floor, your hands now muddy and weakly clutching to the wet grass. Rosie’s mother crouched down next to you, being careful not to get her black dress dirty in the mud. She patted your back comfortingly as you sobbed, your throat feeling dry from all the sobbing. Her eyes were watering as well, but you failed to notice as you were blinded by your own tears.

“(Name), let’s go inside now. You’ll get sick if you stay out here any longer,” she tried to convince you. You heard her words crystal clear but chose to ignore them, feeling too numb to reply. “(Name), honey, please.” Still too numb, you buried your face in your dirty, muddy, hands.

2 weeks later

“Don’t worry, (Name), I’m sure my mom and dad will agree, and I’m sure Rubie will be excited to have you with us too,” Rosie assured you. She had offered to ask her parents if you could start living with them as your father was getting ready to move out. You had accepted, hoping it wouldn’t be too much trouble.

“I’m really sorry about this, Rosie,” you apologized. Rosie shook her head, pulling you in for a hug.

“Don’t be sorry, I’m more sorry,” she said. You smiled weakly at your best friend’s generosity.

Her parents did end up agreeing, and the family maid got your own room ready in the basement. You weren’t a fan of basements, but you were grateful anyway. You thanked the family constantly, but every time, they just nodded with a sad, pitiful smile on their face. Everyone at the Castle pitied you and your family. You pitied yourself even more.

1 week later

“Already?” You were shocked. Barely a week after your father moved out of SKZ Castle and you moved in with Rosie and her family, a new family was moving into your old home. You couldn’t help but feel upset at how unfairly fast life was moving.

“I know, right?” Rosie scoffed. “Apparently, my dad’s boss chose this family to move in barely after your dad resigned and left! Unbelievable, right?!” Rosie shook her head. “How could they do this?”

“Dad said that that family has a doctor-dad too,” Rubie, Rosie’s little sister whom you treated as your own, stated matter-of-factly. “I guess the Castle is reserved for doctor-dads and their families.”

“But Seungmin’s dad isn’t-“

“You think I don’t know that?” Rubie interrupted her sister as she rolled her eyes and hopped down from the window sill, skipping towards the door. “For someone with the highest scores in your grade, I’m surprised you haven’t heard of sarcasm.” Rubie stuck her tongue out. You stifled a laugh as Rosie grabbed a pillow and threw it at the younger.

“You wanna die?” Rosie threatened, and you couldn’t hold your laugh in this time. Only a week of living with Rosie’s family, and you already felt more welcome than you did with your own biological family. Your parents focused on your smart, successful big brother so much that they forgot to even ask how your day was, being too busy asking your brother for updates on his school work, grades, and “competitors”. Yet, no matter how much you loved and appreciated your best friend and her family, it wasn’t the same. You could tell how hard Rosie was trying to cheer you up, but you still felt down most of the time.

“The nerve of that little...” Rosie groaned, turning back towards the large window. Her eyes widened. “Wait, look!” Rosie tapped your shoulder aggressively as she pointed at the new family. “Look, look, look!”

“What?” You grabbed your shoulder in fake pain and glared at your friend before following Rosie’s finger to the family. ...huh? You cocked your head. “What about them?” You observed the trio, but couldn’t identify anything too special about them aside from their clear astonishment at the huge mansion you used to call your home.

“That’s the really smart kid that my mom told me about. He went to some school I never heard of, but he’s transferring to Go Saeng High ‘cause he got the highest rank at his school! His scores are tied with mine. I can’t believe he’s the one moving in!” Rosie basically screamed, fuming in anger. You tsked at her competitiveness before squinting at the tall, young guy holding a small, black and white dog in his arms.

“Who even is he?” you asked, slightly taken aback by how good looking the young boy was.

“(Name), that’s Hwang Hyunjin.”

a/n : so that’s it for the prologue / sneak peek! sorry it’s so short, but i have some major plot points planned out so i will write as much as i can as often as i can before i start planning when to release each chapter! (i didn’t wanna make this a chapter thing, but it will be easier for me as i am busy with summer school) i am also figuring out how to make a master list and links etc atm. i might make a tag list as well if somehow, this series ends up doing well as time goes on. idk yet hh!

also! a heads up! a few of the chapters to come in the near future may include sections that are not from the reader’s point of view, but rather a 3rd person pov of another character! i will make sure to clarify~ super excited for this series!

♛ series masterlist : we all lie ♛

< previous chapter ♛ next chapter >

#stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #stray kids x reader #skz #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz fluff #skz angst #hwang hyunjin #stray kids hyunjin #skz hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #stray kids school au #stayshub

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fangirlshrewt97 · 4 years

Text

DuckTales Fic - Hey Brother, I’m Back!

Author(s): Fangirlshrewt97

Fandom: DuckTales (2017)

Pairing: Della Duck & Donald Duck

Characters: Della Duck, Donald Duck, Scrooge McDuck, Mrs. Beakley, Others mentioned

Rating: Teen and Up (1 swear word)

Warnings: None

Additional Tags: Sibling bonding, Reunion, Late Night Conversations, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Banned Together Bingo 2020, Prompt: Talking Animals

Summary: My take on Della and Donald’s conversation post-reunion

“I thought you were dead.” His tone was flat, eyes hard, fists clenched.

That shut her up.

Link to A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24550339

/////

It was nearing midnight when the Duck Family finally retired for the day, each exhausted after a packed day of reunions, failed plans, and a Moon invasion. Those didn’t happen every day after all. Launchpad had offered to take the moon people to one of Scrooge’s safe houses until they were able to integrate into Earth’s society or decided to return to the moon.

Or rather, most members of the Duck family went to sleep. Della tucked her children into bed as had become the routine ever since her return from the Moon. It was a long process that involved them clinging to her and her clinging back. These were her babies, the ones she had missed, yearned to hold, fought so fiercely to come back to. It didn’t matter what had happened that day, what fight or adventure, or mundane squabble they might have had. Bedtime was sacred. She tasted the regret of every second she had missed of their lives bitterly on her tongue. She never hurried bedtime, stretching it to the last possible second, and staying until all three were asleep, just watching over them.

But tonight, Della left as soon as her sons were tuckered out, which was pretty quick, considering they were asleep the second their heads hit the pillow. She quietly closed the door to their room, gently leaning her head against the wood, breathing in the reality. Assuring herself that the ground beneath her foot was real, the smooth wood under fingertips too.

She stepped away and turned to look out the corridor, walking towards a destination without ever realizing it.

As she reached the attic, a chill breeze blew past her, and a smile started to form on her face. Making her way through the familiar hoard of treasure and trash Uncle Scrooge kept up here, Della made her way up the hidden stairs at the end of the room. The steps up the roof were slightly dusty out of disuse, and she briefly wondered if the boys realized there were stairs beyond the attic.The air was even cooler once she got to the roof. Muscle memory guided her feet as she reached the little alcove above the attic window that gave them a safe perch to sit on.

“I had a feeling you’d be up here.”

Donald’s nod was barely perceptible. He stayed quiet until she settled down comfortably, and shared a minute of silence.

Then “I stopped talking to Uncle Scrooge after you disappeared. Stopped coming to see him. Stopped visiting this house. I didn’t regret that, I was mad at him. What I did miss was this spot.” Donald’s voice was clear, but the pain was even clearer to Della.

Della felt a weight on her chest. “Don-”

“I thought you were dead.” His tone was flat, eyes hard, fists clenched.

That shut her up.

“I hoped and waited for so long, Della will come back, Della always comes back, she is the best of us.” Tears gathered at Donald’s eyes, slowly started to pour down his cheeks. “But you didn’t. And I wanted- I wanted to drown my sorrows, I wanted to build a rocket and bury myself among the stars with you, I wanted-” Donald hiccuped as he curled his fingers into a tight fist. His voice was shaking with anger.

Della felt her own tears racing down her cheek.

“I wanted to find you Della. Or I wanted to die trying. All I knew was that I couldn’t live in a world without you in it.” Donald hiccuped again as he rubbed at his eyes. “The only thing that kept me here, kept me sane, were your hatchlings.”

“I spent every second I wasn’t with you trying to get back to all of you.” Della whispered.

Donald turned to finally face his sister, looking her in the eye. “I know you did. I know it in my bones. But that still doesn’t erase the fact that you left Della. I know you didn’t mean to get stranded. Or to take so long to get back. But for so long.” Donald cleared his throat, rubbing at his eyes with his sleeve before taking Della’s hand in his.

“So long I was angry. I was sad. But mostly I was lonely. I was raising my nephews and it was so unfair. They should have had you. The first face they saw when they hatched was you. When Dewey said his first word, it should have been ‘Mom’. When I finally managed to coax Louie to eat that damn banana, you should have been with me to cheer. When Huey took his first steps, you should have been the first to catch him. And it.” Donald choked. “It is all so, so, so fucking unfair Della.”

Della bit her lip, closing her eyes and letting the pain she had been pushing away all these years to finally break, and soon she was heaving sobs. She felt her brother envelop her in a hug so tight it must have been hurting him too, but the twins clutched each other tight, letting go of over a decade’s worth of pain together. “When I saw the Spear crash site, I thought I was dreaming. I called out for you, so happy you had made it home, relieved, I had been right. My sister had found her way back home even from the stars.” Della sobbed harder, and Donald rubbed her back comfortingly.

“Of course then I accidentally wound up on the moon, but that’s a story for another day.” He joked. Della just sniffled.

Donald held her until Della’s cries petered out, replaced with small hiccups. Donald started to move away only to be pulled closer to Della as she grabbed his arm and held it in place around her. When he settled behind her, she leaned on his shoulder.

“When I was up there, everyday, every single day, I was trying to get home Donald. To them. And to you. I wanted to see all those things, and I could picture it all so clearly in my head. But you know what I never had to worry about?”

When Donald stayed silent, Della turned her head to look him in the eyes.

“I knew that no matter how long it took me to get home, you would be with the boys. I am so sorry I put you through all this, for thinking I was dead.” Della felt her voice crack at the next part. “But thank you. Donald, thank you so much for raising them. You have done such a good job. Probably better-”

“Shut up Della.” Donald interrupted, voice equally annoyed and fond. “Just. What did you think I was going to do with them? Abandon them? They are my kids too Della. I consider them my kids, not my nephews. Every day, I was so scared I was not doing right by you, that I was messing things up, and it would have been better if you had been here.”

“You would never abandon them Donald. But you did not have to make them your responsibility either. And that is something I am never going to be able to repay you for. You are a wonderful dad to them Donald, and I am so proud of them all. I can see so much of myself in them, and I know that is because of you.”

“I would never have let them forget you.” Donald said sincerely.

Della gulped again, rubbing her eyes hard to stop herself from crying again.

“I missed you so much.”

“Me too Dell, me too.”

Della laughed a wet laugh.

“You’re the only one who calls me that.”

“I’m the only one allowed to call you that!” Donald replied, faux indignation flooding his voice.

Della laughed again, hard enough to make her belly hurt. By the time she quietened, Donald was looking at her fondly.

“Yeah you are Donny.”

Donald started to quack in real indignation this time, setting Della off again.

The two stayed up for a little longer, long enough to see colour start to flood the horizon again before they got up and made their way to Della’s bedroom.

She was not ready to part with her brother just yet.

///

Come morning, Scrooge was making his daily round through the mansion, enjoying the short while the place was still asleep. As he walked past Della’s room, he saw the door was slightly ajar, so went to close it, only to pause when he caught a glance at the scene.

There, in Della’s queen size bed, the twins were curled up close together, in the same position Scrooge remembered seeing so very often when they were wee kids, running around and causing havoc in his house. He’d even bet a dollar that they were holding hands in between them.

Feeling a newly-becoming-familiar warmth flood his heart, Scrooge stood for a few minutes just watching them, a fond smile over his face. A cough from the end of the hallway had Scrooge closing the door loudly in surprise, only to find Beakley at the end of the hallway with a knowing look in her eyes.

“Your whole family is back under one roof Sir.”

Scrooge cleared his throat, straightening his back even as he felt the strangest urge to sink to his knees in relief and happiness. “So they are. I think it deserves a celebratory breakfast doesn’t?”

Beakley bowed her head slightly. “I’ll get started on it right away.”

Saying so, she moved away, heading towards the kitchen.

Scrooge cracked the door open just the tiniest gap to see both Donald and Della were still fast asleep, and then walked back to his room to start his day, a feeling of complete contentment making him feel like he was floating.

#my fic #ducktales fic #bannedtogetherbingo2020 #bannedtogether2020 #della duck #donald duck #scrooge mcduck #let me know what you think!

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starshinewriter · 3 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dewey Duck & Huey Duck & Louie Duck, Louie Duck & Scrooge McDuck Characters: Louie Duck, Huey Duck, Dewey Duck, Scrooge McDuck, Doofus Drake (mentioned) Additional Tags: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Brotherly Love, Protective Older Brothers, doofus is the worst, scrooge used to be as well but hes working on it, Episode: s03e21 The Life and Crimes of Scrooge McDuck! Series: Part 10 of Set After Summary:

Louie apologized to Doofus, he isn't sure how to feel about it. (Spoiler alert, he's very sure.)

Notes:

yes im aware this is another louie-centric story and yes im also aware that i still have to finish the final chapter of AMOM.... that's all i got.

hope you enjoy!

Alternative to Ao3:

The first thing Louie does when he gets home is go up to his room, he thinks his Uncle has some idea of how worn out he is cause he doesn't say anything against it. He knows that he'll have the room to himself since his brothers are still occupied with the gribbles and honestly that relieves him a bit, as bad as that makes him feel he needs to be alone right now. There's also the thing of them knowing whenever something is wrong the moment they see him and will ask questions that he isn't ready to answer yet.

He throws himself on his bed and does everything he can not to think about the day's events but fails almost instantly. So he tries to think about everything except the part that bothered him the most. He fails at that too.

He apologized to Doofus Drake, that was something that he did. And he's supposed to feel happy about it, apologizing is a good thing, but all he feels is everything he always feels with Doofus: dread, terror, the overwhelming desire to get as far away from him as he possibly can- which is about as opposite from good as you can get. He doesn't get it, why doesn't he feel better about this? Why does he feel like he just made a huge mistake? Sure, Doofus is Doofus, but he had gotten him off of his back, which had been his whole goal, he should feel good right now, but all he feels is trepidation.

Trauma, Huey would call it.

All he knows is that he wants it to go away and he doesn't know how to make it, and that might be scarier than actually being scared. What if it never goes away? What if he always feels like he can't let his guard down, ever? What kind of life is that? He buries himself in his blankets and that's where he stays, alone, until the door opens and voices that are talking about something he can't hear pause when they see him. He can practically feel them look at each other and carefully step to the bed.

"Hey, Lou." One of them -Dewey- says. "Whatcha up to?" He doesn't say anything. They look at each other once more. He feels the bed move a moment later- once, twice, and then he's surrounded by the comforting presence only his brothers can give. He stays in the blankets.

"What happened today? Uncle Scrooge gave us a summary but it was mostly about him and what he went through."

"Doofus Drake was there." Is all he says, but it's more than enough, in less than a second arms are encompassing the blankets and grabbing him in a hug. They know what a trigger Doofus is for him.

Huey places his head near where he knows Louie's is, "Do you wanna talk about it?" He feels his head shake and fights back the urge to sigh, of course he doesn't, but that doesn't mean he shouldn't. "We won't force you, but it might help you get your thoughts in order."

"I apologized to him." His brothers share a glance,

"Why?"

Louie shifts in the blankets, his brothers move to make him more comfortable. "To get him to leave me alone, mostly, and drop the case. But I dunno, Uncle Scrooge was apologizing for what he did, so I thought I had to too."

Dewey looks at him with confusion, "But you didn't do anything, not anything that he didn't deserve. Why apologize for that?"

"It felt like the right thing to do."

"Was it?" Louie is silent for a few minutes, that's what's worrying him, what if in making the right decision for the case he made the wrong one for himself?

"I don't know." He finally answers. "I just know I wanted Scrooge and me to be able to go home and I didn't want to have a sworn enemy my whole life."

Huey holds him tighter, "Louie, your relationship with him is not the same as Uncle Scrooge's relationships with his enemies. You're terrified of him! You can't be around him or even think about him without freaking out! He trapped you in his house, he tried to have you killed, he's not your enemy, he's an abuser!" The room falls silent after that and it stays that way until sniffles start to come from the blanket pile.

"I didn't want to do it," Louie admits. "I just did what I thought I had to. But now, now I'm so scared." He breaks into sobs and his brothers quickly pull him out of the blanket and into a hug. "It's not fair, why did I have to be the one to do it?! Why does he get to get away with everything?!" Dewey starts rubbing his back which makes him calm down a bit.

"All I can say is he better hope he doesn't run into us."

"Agreed." Huey replies; Louie lets out a small laugh, yeah he better, but Louie wouldn't feel sorry for him if he did.

____________________________________________________________

His Uncle finds him in the kitchen later and nods at him as he goes to get something from the fridge. "Are you feeling better, lad?" He asks as he sets up a kettle on the stove.

"No." Louie says honestly.

"Ae thought that might be the case." He pours tea into the kettle. "Ae know apologizin' fer somethin' is hard, especially ta someane like that, but sometimes it's just somethin' yew have ta do."

"... What if I made a mistake?" Louie responds without looking at him and his Uncle sighs.

"The only ane that can tell ye that is yew, do yew feel like ye made a mistake?" Louie hesitates before nodding. Scrooge hums, "Necessary evil it's called, sometimes its the only thing we can do. Doesnae make it right, or fair, but look at the positive: at least he'll leave ye alone now."

Louie doesn't say anything to that. Was that positive big enough to negate the negatives? "I wish I didn't." He admits all of a sudden. "Does that make me a bad person?"

His Uncle looks at him sternly, "Louie Duck, you are ane o' the best people ae know. Ye constantly make me want ta be better, and ae know ye do fer the rest o' this family as well. All o' yew kids do. Ae know this situation is awful but ae'm proud o' yew fer being the bigger person, if that counts fer anythin'." Louie nods, it does, it counts for a lot actually.

"Huey said I shouldn't have had to do it, that my relationship with Doofus was different than your's with your enemies. Worse. And that he didn't deserve an apology. I agree with him and I hate that I did it. It didn't make me feel any better, didn't lift any weight off of me, it just made me feel worse. And you know what the worst part is? That I keep thinking that I made him like this, that if I hadn't of gone to see him on Only Child Day he wouldn't be like this, how messed up is that?"

Scrooge turns back to the stove and removes the kettle then pours himself a cup of tea, "The lad was right, my relationships are nae that the same as yers, and it'll do yew no good ta compare them. Ae'll be honest- that child deserves a lot o' things, but an apology is nae ane o' them. Ae'm sorry yew were forced inta that position, yew should never do things cause someane else is or because it seems like the right thing ta do." He sighs. "It was a sticky situation, and ane ye really shouldnae have been involved in, ae dinnae need Donald yellin' at me ta know that's true." He says with a wry grin. "Ae'm glad yew were there though, ye were a great help." He adds, more sincerely.

Louie beams, "Maybe I should be a lawyer."

Scrooge chuckles, "Maybe." He looks at Louie, "Somethin' ae realized today was that while ae had a hand in creating my enemies and them me, ae ultimately made myself. Anyane can go on and on aboot apologizin' and holdin' people accountable, but at the end o' the day our own actions are the only anes we're responsible fer. Yew didnae make Doofus what he is, he made himself like that."

"That makes sense. Thanks, Uncle Scrooge." Maybe now he can feel better about this situation, between his brothers and his Uncle he's coming out with a much clearer view than before.

"And speakin' o' holdin' people accountable..." Louie looks at him with interest. "Ae'm thinkin' Doofus' parents and ae need ta have a little chat aboot his behavior. He cannae make yew as upset as ye get every time yew run inta him and get away with it." Louie grins at him, okay, now he can really feel better about this whole thing. It won't be right away, but he knows now that it is possible. He'll probably be scared of Doofus his whole life, and will never, ever, be near him again, but he won't always be a source of trauma for him and that's probably the best outcome.

And this point, he'll take whatever he can get.

#ducktales 2017 #the life and crimes of scrooge mcduck #louie duck 2017 #huey dewey and louie 2017 #scrooge and louie 2017

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aquaticalay · 4 years

Text

Centurion .Chapter Six.

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Sequel to For Something Greater

Summary: (Y/n) is an active duty Navy SEAL Commander, the first and only woman to ever become a SEAL. After successfully stopping a genocide with the help of the Avengers, she becomes a bridge between the military and the earth's mightiest heroes. But even as her relationship with Bucky grows, she decides not to tell him about the nightmares and trauma that haunt her. Both their secrets begin to unravel when Bucky accidentally stumbles upon a piece of dangerous information about (Y/n) that she doesn't know about herself— something she must never find out about.

Genre: Action, Drama, Romance

Warning/s for the series: cursing, violence, death, eventual smut, PTSD

Warning/s for the chapter: cursing, graphic-ish violence, blood, death, description of a panic attack

Word count: 2.5k

Note: The plot is heavily inspired by the song 'in the dark' by Bring Me The Horizon, and 'Mercy' by Muse. So yeah, go listen to it if you want to :))) I'll post a new chapter every two days.

Let me know if you want to be in the taglist!

(Taglist will be reblogged)

THIS IS A SEQUEL TO 'FOR SOMETHING GREATER.' IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THAT, THE MASTERLIST IS IN MY BIO.

TRIGGER WARNING! THIS SERIES REVOLVES AROUND POST-TRAUMATIC STRESS DISORDER. (Including, but not limited to: anxiety/panic attacks, extreme mood swings , nightmares, intrusive thoughts, insomnia, irritability, hypervigilance, and hyperarousal)

That evening, when Bucky and Sam embarked on their small mission to New Jersey, you went through the files on the USB in the privacy of Bucky’s room. You locked the door and deactivated Friday in his quarters just to make sure no one finds out. At this point, you couldn’t risk being exposed, not a crime of this level. Not even to the Avengers, no matter how close they were to you.

You took a deep breath, hands shaking as you plugged the USB in. You managed to open the files you took from Fury’s computer. You skimmed the overall files, then went straight to his personal background.

His photo was blurry, a brown scan of an old worn out photo. It was recognizable, but it wouldn’t work for facial recognition. What you realized was then he had big eyes, and it was weirdly familiar. Where have you seen that before?

You read his short biodata, and one thing caught your eye. He was born in 1926, but the papers say he is alive as of 2017.

How is that possible? Did Hydra give him an anti-aging serum?

Michail Petrov’s files show that he didn’t seem like he was anything out of the ordinary, or at least not that different from other Hydra scientists. He went to renowned college and came out on top of his class, graduating with flying colors. A brilliant student, but something, or someone, lead him astray.

One of the few things intriguing about his profile is that he seemed morally grey, at least by your standards. According to the papers, his genetic engineering research had good intentions, a good heart with ruthless determination. Unforgiving pride. He wouldn’t let anyone stop his mission, whatever it maybe. To a degree, you saw yourself in him.

If it was true, if he was still alive and you had to face him yourself, you knew you could fight pride with pride.

Like fighting fire with fire. An anger that rages within you knows that your deadliest sin is pride, and you cannot change it. It may be dormant now, but when the time comes, nothing can hold you back.

You were dangerous that way.

Your eyes glued to the screen, you read his goals. He wanted to make a perfect world where people aged slower and lived longer, as well as leading countless research to make the human immune system better than it already is, making the human species ultimately resistant to diseases and delaying natural decay. It was almost unfathomable, impossible and ethically ambiguous science, but he found something that could theoretically work. It was brilliant, and to an extent, it had an equally noble purpose.

The way he did it, however, was bloody and murderous. He had, at the very least, a hundred people killed to try to achieve his goal, and in his papers, he had described them as ‘sacrifices for the greater good of mankind.’

He had most of his victims killed to study them, turn them inside out and reverse engineer them as if they were lifeless machines turning with cold gears instead of living cells. He did this in order to study everything that is unknown about humans, and from what your read, he did not care how he did it as long as he succeeded.

His ultimate goal was to create a new breed of supersoldiers that could integrate with the existing society, but he had failed. You did not blame him. It was too high a goal. However, from the same experiment, he managed to make fully-functional human beings using synthetic cells, grown in womb-like tubes. That remained his greatest achievement.

And that was called Project Mercy.

As you delved further into the details of Project Mercy, you learned more.

There were 21 living human beings that was the outcome of Project Mercy, which meant the floating, marble-white skinned girl that you found lifeless in Ukraine was the last of them.

Bucky was right. According to the files, almost all of them were dead. Most of them were euthanised when they developed some type of terminal illness, like cancer. Most of them were caused by their uncontrollably rapid mutation on a cellular level. Others were forcibly killed when they weren’t mentally sound, and you quote, 'impossible to control.'

Curiosity came over you, and before you knew it, you unknowingly came across a black and white security camera footage you wished you hadn’t clicked on.

It was a video of a young child strapped to a bed, a boy not much older that fourteen, in a cement-plastered room. If you were in there, you would have been claustrophobic.

The boy was thrashing around, trying to escape his constricting leather confines. You noticed a scientist tinkering with surgical items in a stainless steel table. He had syringe in his hand. It was small, but the boy seemed to be was terrified of it.

“Stay still, Mercy,” said the scientist calmly, only a slight russian accent on his otherwise american sounding voice. Stoic and emotionless. The boy did not answer. He let out a growl, primal and terrified.

“Stay still, Mercy,” he repeated once again, this time in a sing-song voice, perhaps to comfort the boy, to lull him. The scientist smiled, and to your surprise, it seemed sincere.

The boy did not calm down. If anything, he only became more desperate to escape.

The scientist sighed sadly, “Just know that I did not want to do it the hard way.”

He hesitantly grabbed a surgical hammer, swinging it two times, three times, four times, to the boy’s skull until you swore you heard a deep crack in his skull, a drop of blood rolling down his forehead.The screams were fucking unbearable. You could hear the fear in his voice, laced with helplessness and horrific screeching.

You wanted to look away, your body flinching and your eyes closing in instinct, but you can’t. If you wanted more information you had to see every waking second of it. You had to endure this to fully understand what Project Mercy was, or is.

So you forced your eyes open.

Suddenly, his screaming stopped, and the boy limped.

He was unconscious, but still alive. His life support was still running. His heartbeat on the monitor was slowing, but not gone.

The scientist dipped the needle of the syringe in his neck, pushing the white fluid in. “Goodbye, Mercy Three,” he said, a deep taint of regret in his voice, "You have served well, and I will make sure the world is thankful of your sacrifice," he stopped talking for a while, then leaned closer to the limp body. He whispered, "I love you, my child."

The boy flatlined, the pitch of the monitor ringing in your ears.

You gasped, hands in front of your mouth in shock. You let out a string of curses, hands buried in both your hands.

A wet tear streamed down your face. You could feel the boy's silence haunting you. You let out a sob, the cries you were unable to let outripping your heart apart, piece by piece.

What did you just watch?

In a twisted sense, you felt like you were watching a childhood story ruined. Like Geppeto putting an end to Pinochio's life because he had done too much damage.

The damage, however, was disturbingly unclear.

You whole body started shaking, and your esophagus felt like it was starting a gag reflex.

Focus, you thought to your time, breathing to calm yourself down.

With quivering hands, you managed to paused the video, zooming into the scientist’s coat, at his name tag.

Michail Petrov.

You studied his facial features, which was clearer here than it was in the profile photo. He had fair skin, and a long, sharp nose. He had a symmetrical eyes, thin lips pressed into a line and a buzz trimmed hair.

You didn’t know what you expected, but he looked normal.

If you passed him in the streets of New York, you wouldn’t have looked twice or even bat an eyelash.

That terrified you.

Your observation was disturbed by a sudden knock on the door.

Surprised, you quickly changed the screen into a new tab.

“(Y/n), I’m making soup. Would you like some?” Wanda called to you from the other side of the door.

“Sure,” you replied hastily, heart thumping. Your fingers were tense and trembling, still in shock.

“Okay,” Wanda replied, and from the sound of it, she did not suspect a thing. Thank god.

“I’ll let Friday know when I’m done,” she informed.

“Thank you,” You breathed, relief dripping out of your voice when you hear her walk away.

You reopened the tabs and braced yourself for more unexpected information. You started reading more.

Like Bucky said, you read that Mercy 1 and 2 were alive and last seen in 2014, but their profiles has been deleted. No photo or files or anything. You were in the dark, not a clue, at least for now. Knowing what you do now, you know the chances are Mercy 1 and 2 are alive and well are pretty good.

You looked into his lab in Kaunas, Lithuania, tracking down the exact location of his private laboratory. If there was any physical clue to where or who Mercy 1 and 2 two might be, it would be here, which means you had to go there.

You saved the coordinates, writing it down on a piece of paper just in case, so you won't lose it.

This was it. Your last chance at tracking down every last drop of Hydra.

You would let nothing get in your way.

And you would make sure Petrov doesn't make it out alive.

From the other side of the room, your phone rang. You yelped in your seat just a little, before quickly grabbing the ringing device.

It was Diego Miller.

Shit, you thought to yourself. He had called you in Fury's apartment, why didn't you call him back? You could only hope he did not suspect a thing.

"Hello," you said through nervously gritted teeth.

"Commander," he said, "You're okay! I was worried when I saw the news— I, you did not answer your phone this morning."

"Yeah I… had things to do," you explained yourself, "what's going on? What happened this morning?"

"I was just checking if you got to New York safe," he told you, "you usually tell the team where you are. And you did not, so we were worried. Especially with what's on the breaking news"

"Oh," you let out a breath that you did not realize you were holding. Your breath hitched again when you processed what else he was saying. "Wait. What's in the news?"

"You haven't heard? It's breaking on all channels right now. It has been for the past one or two minutes." He sounded disturbingly surprised you didn't know.

Sensing the worry in his voice, you turned the TV on.

The screen greeted you with big bold letters on the foreground of an eerily familiar apartment block that was completely engulfed in flames— Nick Fury's.

"SAM WILSON REPORTED MISSING IN CIVILIAN MISSILE STRIKE, 24 REPORTED DEAD." The headline read.

"Shit," you cursed, "I— I gotta go."

Miller did not say anything, understanding how you must've felt.

Hands shaking you hung up and tried to call Bucky.

A million of negative scenarios ran through your head. Sam was missing, but Bucky's name was nowhere in the headline.

Suddenly, a series of loud knocks were heard on your door. "(Y/n)!" you recognized Clint's distressed voice, "You need to see this!"

You wanted to shout to Clint that you know what was going on, but the words were held back by an invisible force in your throat.

When you didn't respond, Clint started banging the door, "Are you in there?" He asked urgently, "Are you okay?"

You wanted to answer, you really did. But you can't.

Your focus was on your phone, trying to get hold of his number, but your hands were trembling so much that your phone fell to the ground.

You choked on your tears, trying to hold back your increasingly loud beating heart.

You kneeled down, trying to reach for your phone.

You felt the panic begin like a cluster of fireworks in your stomach. Tension began growing in your face and limbs.

The loud banging of the door and the chaotic bustle of the breaking news on the TV suddenly became deafening, too much for you to handle.

Your legs failed you, and you fell to the ground, curling your body. "No," you whispered, "No, please."

You thoughts were speeding in your head, unrecognizable nightmarish memories clouding your head. Oliver Jones' and Ian Lawson's untimely deaths the violence that you faced in King-Carver's ship. The hurt, the pain.

The thought of losing Bucky.

It was too much.

You breath came in gasps, feeling that you will black out. The room spun like a hurricane.

"I'm coming in, alright?" Clint asked, and you heard him at the back of your mind.

He easily bypassed the door, overriding Friday's security protocols via the emergency setting.

He came closer to you, worried when he saw you writhing on the floor, holding to a bedpost for dear life.

"It's me," Clint tried to calm you down, "It's Clint. Calm down."

Your voice slowed, but not by much. You managed to sit up.

"W-what— Sam and— and Bucky! They—" You gasped out.

"Yeah—" Clint started to say, but he was cut off by the ring of your phone.

You glanced at it, trying to read it and it was— Bucky!

Breathing an overwhelming sigh of relief, you scrambled for the phone.

"(Y/n)?" You hear him call from the other end of the line. Hearing the slight voice of the former winter soldier, Clint's shoulder released all his tension.

"Oh, god," you choked out, "You're okay!"

"A few bruises only," he reported to you, coughing microscopic degree out of his lungs. "I'm with firefighters right now."

"Sam? What about Sam?" Clint asked, and Bucky heard his voice in the background.

You set your phone on loudspeaker.

"He was taken," Bucky announced, frustration in his voice, "After the missile attack, I saw someone take him through the smoke. They were gone before I could get there."

He blamed himself for his best friend's disappearance, you could tell.

"Do you have any idea who did this? Who took Sam? Who ordered the missile attack?" Clint demanded.

After a heartbeat, Bucky answered, "no."

He was lying. You know by his voice. Whenever he was lying, the edge of his voice drops a few notes lower. Barely noticeable, but you know. Clint, however, believed the lie. He sighed, shutting his eyes for some relief.

Bucky knows that it must be Michail Petrov, and you did too. Who else would it be?

Maybe he had a software to track where his profile was opened.

But then why did it take so long for the missile to arrive?

A million questions swirled inside your head.

You had to find out why. You had to find Sam.

You convinced yourself that this mess was all because of you.

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free-pool-trash · 5 years

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The Crying Girl - Makoto Tachibana x Ghost!Reader (AU) 🍂PART I🍂

Heyyyyy everyone I'm back! I'm super excited to be actually working on something again so please please please don't let this flop and if you enjoyed this chapter PLEASE let me know!!!

Summary: Makoto Tachibana, a newly appointed school teacher moves into a small house on the outskirts of a quaint little town, the rent was unusually low and it's location was close to where he'd started teaching, it seemed almost too good to be true.

But when he starts hearing the sounds of a woman crying coming from his bathroom after two weeks of living in the house, strange and spooky encounters begin to develop.

Word count: 1.2K

Warning(s): Drunk driving, car accidents, injuries, blood, mentions of death.

Masterlist 💗

Series Masterlist 🍂

Tag list: @caoimhediva @fandomhavenskittles

lemme know if u wanna be on it 😚

Enjoy 🎃🍂

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

Makoto Tachibana liked his new home, it was small, cozy, the neighbors were nice, the rent was low and the sidewalk outside of his new place had a gorgeous avenue stretching for a good few miles into the small town where he was now working, the autumn leaves of red, orange and yellow littered the sidewalk and main road, a sight that often brought a smile to the green eyed man's face whenever he glanced out the front window of his terraced house.

The house itself was old, it came with many creaks in the old wooden floorboards and rattlings of old pipes, which admittedly sometimes left Makoto slightly shaken. He'd long since outgrown his irrational fear of the paranormal, so he told himself anyway.

Living alone in an old house was a true test of his courage and so far he'd been doing well. That was until one evening on the 20th of September. Makoto had been checking over his students' homework, grading essays and leaving feedback in the many copy books when he heard, what at first sounded like a howling wind seeping in from an open window coming from the upstairs bathroom, but after trying his very best to think rationally and ignore the noise for a solid 10 minutes he realized he'd closed that particular window hours ago and the noise… definitely didn't sound like the wind.

He could feel his heartbeat speeding up and his mind began to run over possible scenarios. Had someone broken in? No that couldn't be it… An animal maybe? No, he didn't know any animals known to make those kinds of noises.

It sounded like crying. A woman crying.

And just like the ever so talked about cat, curiosity got the best of the tall high school teacher as he stood up from his seat at the kitchen table, abandoning the copybooks that still needed grading. He ran a hand through his olive coloured hair and sucked in a deep breath and started walking slowly towards the stairs.

The bathroom door stood daunting at the top of the stairs, it was the first room you'd be met with on your accent up the stairs and in the moment, Makoto wished it wasn't.

With a shaky hand the young man, gripped the round door handle and twisted it, using his foot to push the door ajar, his vision of the room still mostly obscured, bracing himself for whatever would jump out at him. After a nerve-racking 10 seconds, nothing changed but the noises got clearer. It was definitely a woman, a crying woman at that.

Quiet, pained sobs floated from the slightly open wooden door, his heart tightened at the sounds of it, he'd always hated hearing anyone in pain, even if it was an intruder in his bathroom.

When he had built up the courage to finally peek into the room, the crying stopped and a soft voice replaced it, sounding desperate, scared even.

"...Help me… please...you said you'd help me...please…it hurts." And again the crying resumed.

The boy took one final deep breath and opened the door fully. He couldn't stop the gasp that left his mouth upon seeing her.

A woman, his same age, lying in his bathtub, cuts and bruises littered her face, the girl clutched her stomach and blood seeped through the gaps in her manicured fingers.

"...what took you so long… please… it hurts…" Her voice was airy, almost distant and as Makoto observed her he'd noticed, she was sickeningly pale and her eyes when she looked at him, they were full of fear but their colour was something colder than the normal human eye.

Rushing to the tub, Makoto knelled by the girl, he'd need to get her to a hospital. "How did you get in here? What happened to you?" He'd asked the girl, moving his hands into the tub, making a move to grab her, but when he made contact with her tattered shirt he'd been met with a feeling of something much, much colder than ice.

"The man… the man who hit me on the road… he brought me here… he said he was getting help… I've been… it hurts… are you help?" In a state of pure confusion Makoto nodded his head gently and lifted the girls bloody hand from her bleeding stomach, he examined the wound and shivered at the sight, it looked like she'd gotten a shard of glass lodged in her abdomen.

Fighting the urge to throw up, he gave the girls hand a squeeze, she was crying in pain and Makoto feared he'd made it worse.

"What's your name?" He asked her gently, her freezing cold hand gripping his for dear life, he could've sworn he felt her same fear wash over him but he shook the feeling off, he'd think about it later, after he got her some help.

"It's (Y/n) (L/n)... What's yours?" (Y/n) responded weakly, her eyes dropping tiredly as her cries began to get quite. Makoto panicked.

"My name's Makoto, just hold on ok, (Y/n) I'm gonna get you help, hold on please." He begged the girl, getting up off the bathroom floor and rushing towards the door.

Before he could leave he moved his head to spare the crying girl a reassuring smile, but all he was met with when he turned around was absolutely nothing.

Just a simple and clean bathtub. No blood. No crying. No (Y/n).

Makoto felt his heart drop, this couldn't be happening, what he just saw, what he just felt, it was real it had to have been.

"(Y/n)?" He questioned the empty bathroom he was standing in, and of course he got no response.

The boy slowly shut the bathroom door and walked down the stairs, eyes wide as he made it back to his patiently waiting copy books, but once her reached the kitchen he didn't sit down. No, he ran to the kitchen sink, hunched over and released into it the contents of his stomach.

He was terrified to say the least.

Walking back to the kitchen table after wiping his mouth, he sat down and with his still shaky hands grabbed his laptop and opened up a search bar.

He was sure his heart was about to break out of the confines of his rib cage as he typed what he was looking for.

"(Y/n) (L/n)"

His stomach churned at the very first search result to pop into his screen, "24 Year Old (Y/n) (L/n) Killed In Road Accident Turned Abduction." Swallowing his fear and ignoring the fact that he was sure to be as pale as the woman in his bathroom was, he clicked on the link and started reading.

"The young woman was struck by a car on her way home from a party she'd been attending at a friend's house on the evening of the 20th of September, 2017. The woman was struck by a drunk driver while she was walking on the sidewalk, the man had swerved onto the pathway, critically injuring Ms. (L/n).

The man brought the victim to his home where she was later found dead. Autopsy showed that her cause of death had been excessive bleeding due to a shard of glass from the windshield of the car she'd been struck by. The drunk driver who chose to remain anonymous is now facing a sentence of life in prison."

Makoto at that point then knew only one thing for sure, he most definitely would not be sleeping tonight.

#makoto tachibana #makoto tachibana x reader #free! iwatobi swim club #free! x reader #the crying girl #x reader

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atths--twice · 3 years

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Chapter Seven 7/9

Durand Home December 18, 2017 2:30 a.m.

Arielle woke up in a cold sweat, shivering violently, as she laid back down. She pulled the covers tighter around herself, the portable heater humming as it began to pump out more heat.

Another nightmare. Screaming bouncing inside her head, someone crying, and the cold. Always so cold.

“I am safe. I am home. I am safe. I am home,” she whispered the mantra she had been saying to herself, finding it helped to calm her down. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes, the nightlight in the corner letting out a soft light.

Until this happened, she had blackout curtains on her windows, loving it as dark as possible. Now… now the dark was scary and she needed to have a nightlight, like some terrified little child.

Throwing back her covers angrily, she grabbed her robe and turned down the heater, leaving it just warm enough. Closing the door as she left the room, she shivered as she walked down the stairs and into the kitchen to make some tea.

She hoped not to wake her parents or her sister, but there was no chance she would be able to sleep any longer. She would be up most of the night now, the dream world too unpredictable. Once the sun was up, she would take a sleeping pill and sleep when it was safer.

Turning on the electric kettle, she got her cup ready and stood shivering until the water boiled. As the tea steeped, she set it on the dining room table and sighed, looking around at the dimly light room.

Her mother had put up nightlights everywhere to help her feel comfortable and at ease. They gave the room a cozy glow and for that she was thankful, so much out of her control right now.

Sighing again, she noticed the box at the end of the table and she walked over to it. As she looked at the contents, she smiled slightly. Great Grammy Corinne… she had been a character. She had so many stories and she swore they were as real as they could be without being completely factual; a statement which always made Arielle laugh.

She took out the book on top and sat down to look at it as she drank her tea. Reading through the stories, she shook her head at the thought of being a slave, bought and sold at a whim, taken from your family to never see them again. Tears filled her eyes as she thought of being in that situation, the fear they must have felt.

About to close the book, she saw a story that caught her attention, one she had liked and also been terrified of as a child: Elinor and Mary. Rereading the story, she began to feel a chill, her breathing becoming faster.

“Boudreaux…” she whispered, standing up from the table and bringing the book with her and walking to her mother’s study.

Turning on the light above the desk, she opened her mother’s laptop and entered the password, her heart racing. A few taps on the keyboard and she found what she was looking for. She saw the photos of the victims from the second attack and read the articles about it.

Taking deep breaths, she searched for information about the night she and the others were attacked. Finding them, she closed her eyes before she clicked on the links.

“I am home. I am safe. I am home. I am safe…” Opening her eyes, she clicked the first link.

Through tears that never seemed to stop, she read articles and looked at photos. She felt sick and frozen and yet she kept clicking, kept searching. There was something she needed to find, but she did not know what it was.

The last article she clicked on, she ended up on her feet, staring at the computer screen. It was an older article about areas of ruin around the city. Abandoned buildings, homes, churches. Some very old and some more recent.

It was not the words in the article that caused her to rise to her feet however, it was the photographs within it, or more accurately the tag underneath it.

There was a close up photo of a headstone in the church graveyard where they had been attacked. An old headstone that was missing letters from the first name. Then there was a wide shot of the headstone and the statue across from it. Last was a close shot of the statue: a woman in a long dress, her hands at her breast, head turned to the side and her eyes downcast.

Photographs courtesy of Sally Sparrow.

“Cera…” Arielle whispered as she sat back down and hit print, the printer whirring quietly to life.

The pages printed out as she began searching for more information about the attacks, specifically the most recent one.

“Oh my god,” she breathed as she saw the list of victim names, finding Cera Lee within them. “Oh…” She stood up, grabbing the pages from the printer and leaving the room, knowing this had been what she was looking for.

She hurried to her bedroom and opened her side table drawer, taking out her cell phone and turning it on for the first time in weeks. The battery was nearly dead and she plugged it in, pacing the room as she looked at the clock.

Five in the morning.

Shaking her head, knowing if he was feeling like her, he would be awake. She picked up the phone and scrolled through her contacts, pressed send and closed her eyes, hoping she would get through.

Three rings and the phone was answered, though no words were spoken.

“Hello? Davis?”

“Arielle.”

“Yeah. It’s me.”

“Arielle… this is gonna sound crazy… but I’m… I’m almost to your house…” He sounded confused and not sure why he was driving to her house in the middle of the night.

“Good. I’ll going to get dressed and be out in a minute. We have some things we need to do.”

____________________

She was crying again, the sound echoing all around him. He could hear her, far away and right beside him, and he wished for the millionth time that he could reach her and hold her hand. Tell her it would be okay. But he was frozen in place, his body heavy even as it felt weightless.

Her sobs grew louder and he closed his eyes thinking of her smile and how her kiss had made his heart race.

Farrah.

T… Tyler? Tyler is that you?

His eyes flew open and he stared into the ever pressing darkness.

You can hear me? How? Why now?

I… I don’t know. Are we… speaking?

I don’t know.

He shook his head, not sure what to do or how this was possible. He had wanted to help her and now she sounded even more upset.

Tyler! Tyler, I… I don’t know where I am. Where… where am I? Where are you?

I don’t know, Farrah. What can you see?

Nothing. I can’t see anything. Just… darkness.

Me too.

What does that mean?

IT MEANS… a voice said, one he had not heard since that night in the graveyard, and he heard Farrah gasp. IT MEANS IT IS ALMOST TIME.

Farrah began to cry harder, deep sobs that broke his heart.

Tyler… I don’t know where I am… please… it’s so cold…

His anger began to grow and he swore when he found out who had done this, who had caused her this pain, he would kill them.

#XFCase2020 #The X-Files #XF Fanfic #New Case #What is happening?

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thestuckylibrary · 5 years

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Group Ask 132

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Please send us an ask stating which group ask and which person you are replying to. Thank you so much in advance!

Anon 1 said:

hey!!! ok so this is SUPER vague but it was a oneshot i read back in 2016/early 2017 and it was something like the avengers travelling through steves memories or something???? I'm not sure if the memories were bucky related because i remember at the end bucky is there????? sorry for how vague this is but it might be post cacw and vision might be involved but if u can't find this no worries!!!!!

orchidsrule sent in Mindstones and Other Malfunctions* by HunterPeverell (complete | 21,025 | E) *rape/noncon, heed the tags

Anon 2 said:

hey where’s that fic where ppl dig up bucky and think he’s steve?

Anon, abarbaricyalp, dragonflybeach and gwydions sent in Seven times Steve Rogers was not what everyone expected him to be (+1 time he really, really wasn't what everyone expected him to be) by StuckySituation (complete | 3,515 | T)

buckysxmetalxarm said:

Hi, sorry, I tried looking through ao3 tags searching a/b/o, omega!steve alpha!bucky, mpreg but I don't remember enough bout the fic to find it :/ I kno it’s a/b/o & Steve‘s an Omega and he’s pregnant, (was since before the ice but didn’t know it) & the Winter Soldier is really attracted to his scent & Steve doesn't know why cause other Alphas shouldn't like the smell of pregnant Omegas that aren't theirs but like it is Bucky's so he likes it? That's all I remember? Sorry & thank you in advance!

Anon 3 said:

Hey a few years ago I read a long ass stucky fic. The author used “real” events from the mcu but added much more detail. Eg they wrote missions w the howling commando etc. back then it wasn’t completed and somehow lost is. In a chapter where Steve was on his first (?) mission (the one where he was looking for buck) and Came back with Bucky. During that time they already made some experiments w Buck and he was starting to feel weird while staying in a tent w Cap?? I was wondering if you know which one I mean and if yes is it still up?? What’s it called??

Anon 4 said:

I'm having a hard time finding this fic- I think it was a pwp where Bucky like accidentally Pavlov'd Steve into getting hard every time he put his hair up? Does anyone know what I'm talking about asdfghjkl

getstucky and Anon sent in Classical Conditioning by johnboyegabombs (oneshot | 424 | M)

Anon sent in knee jerk by mcwho (oneshot | 530 | M)

deep-dark-purple said: (sex work)

Trying to find a College/Dom!Steve/Sub!Bucky/prostitute!Bucky/John!SteveAU that Ive lost & Ive had no luck Bucky is hustling through college(TJ era)and Steve(big/older)is going back & they meet in science class/go to group study sessions I think & then catch feelings Meanwhile theres a lot of rope tying(Steve took classes to do)& a scene I remember vividly is where Bucky comes but Steve purposely makes it so Bucky doesnt get the release of it though Bucky says something like You ruined it & sobs

Anon sent in Ain't No Rest for the Wicked* by Kellyscams (complete | 305,786 | E) */others, sex work, alcohol

Anon 5 said:

Could you help me with this particular fic that happened after Civil War it's basically Steve taking Bucky to an isolated place while getting rid of Bucky's winter soldier activation code-- Steve gets hurt a lot before he finally made it through the entire code without Bucky going violent. Thanks!

Anon sent in après nous le déluge by tomorrowsrain (complete | 9,257 | T )

Anon 6 said:

I’ve been looking for this fic for ages - modern times but canon compliant up until tws. I think the fic is post-tws. Bucky finds a pregnant cat (or cat with kittens?) and keeps it. He then later on gives each kitten to an avenger and, i believe, keeps momma cat. I’m not sure how stucky centric it is

sweet-nightingale-96 said:

Hi, I was wondering if you can help me find a fic. In this fic Bucky has escaped hydra before Steve wakes up. Bucky has no memories of his time in Hydra, but he is there when Steve becomes an Avenger. I believe the story was called The Red Star, or something like that. But I’m not sure. I do remember it retelling the movies from Avengers (2012) and onward with Bucky in it, if that helps?

Anon 7 said:

hi there was this one fix where Steve and Bucky were fwb in the 40s and Steve confessed to Bucky he shot Steve down thinking he was protecting him and fast forward to the present where Bucky doesn't remember what he did to Steve only that they were intimate

princessniitza sent in chapter 10 of Ain’t No Grave (Can Keep My Body Down)* by spitandvinegar (restricted, complete | 107,076 | M) *past rape/noncon, heed the tags

Anon 8 said:

I'm looking for a fic where bucky moves in with Steve who's a retired captain and the entire fic they're learning how to be roomies while also pining and at one point bucky is in a bathtub full of kittens and i can't remember the title for the life of me. Any thoughts?

bennettmp339, teenagemutantninjamushroom and therandomravenclw sent in Critical Feline Mass by Kryptaria, rayvanfox (complete | 39,533 | T)

Anon 9 said:

Hi! Ive gone deep In my ao3 history and in your post caws tag and I just can’t seem to find this fic I’m looking for. I just can’t recall the fic description. What I remember from it is Bucky sneaking into the avengers tower & only Steve knows for a while and Bucky always gets high on Steve’s Tranquilizer lollipops. At the end Bucky confesses he’s loved Steve the whole time & Steve gets upset & beats up punching bags. This has been a week long search & I hope it’s findable!

bennettmp339, teenagemutantninjamushroom and ice-whisper sent in Sparked Up Like a Book of Matches by Sena (oneshot | 26,734 | M)

tygerblaze said:

It was Stucky, where Tony sees Bucky undergo the chair torture by General Ross. Decides, I’m gonnna break him out, cause no one deserves that. He calls Steve from the road while Bucky is recovering in the car, it becomes a slight road trip and Bucky becomes friends with Tony. Not sure if it’s post civil war or post tws.

Anon, itsagentromanoff, dragonflybeach and getstucky sent in i need a forest fire by tomorrowsrain (complete | 65,815 | T)

Anon 10 said: (sex work)

I'm dying- I can't find this fic and I don't remember a whole lot. I think Steve was a small dom and had Bucky as a client (I think?) and they were trying like binding (?) and Bucky safeworded and left in a panic and it led to Steve dropping. Bucky came back and was like "?? is this top drop are you dropping" and Steve was like "yeah" and I can't remember anything after that lmao I could've sworn one of the tags was topdrop but I couldn't find it and I... need help ty <3

time-lord-no-more, Anon, lesbianhozier and princessniitza sent in we are the things that we do for fun* by Nonymos (complete | 35,585 | E) *sex work

Anon 11 said: (rape/noncon)

Hi, I`m searching for a fic it was from Ao3. Bucky and Steve had a relationship before. The Winter Soldier is brought back to the tower. At some point he is in a room together with Steve. The other looking at them via cameras. The WS has manipulated the look at the door so Steve can´t get out of the room an the others can´t get in. The WS/Bucky forces himself on Steve, who doesn´t fight back, because Steve thinks when Bucky is totally himself again he would be terrified of his actions otherwise.

Anon sent in Even When I Had Nothing* by AnnaFugazzi (complete | 57,457 | unrated) *cw noncon ; extremely dark themes ; extreme angst ; abusive relationship

#group asks

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dekuinthelake · 4 years

Text

Why I’m okay with people knowing I’m transgender

Firstly, I want to start off by saying that if you’re trans and for your own comfort and safety you don’t want to be “outed” that’s 100% understandable and you should not feel bad about that. We all need to move at our own pace when discovering our social limits and confidence. My journey will have not been the same as yours. I live in Colorado, a state that is fairly trans friendly and am a trans man, meaning I’ve most likely had a safer time than I might have elsewhere. Trans women have it especially difficult, and if you feel unsafe in a situation that’s up for you to gage. It doesn’t make you less valid or a coward or anything like that.

Just know that I’m writing this for you and other trans/nb folks. I want our choices to transition to feel like the right one, even when people who don’t understand are making you second guess.

Context:

From the time I was 16-23, I was immensely depressed. I dropped out of highschool because of an immense disillusionment for the future. Primarily, I believed I didn’t have one. I’d always been bad at school, so collage was out of the question. I thought I was too ugly to get married and so that traditional Mormon thing my mother specifically had impressed upon me, which was having kids obviously. Most people disliked me because at the time, I had an extremely aggressive and compulsive attitude thanks to being absolutely lost emotionally. I hated my body and my mind and was convinced the things I despised could never change.

Ironically, one of the thorns in my side was how I always wanted to be a man instead. I recall coming home from school some days and just curling up in bed and sobbing about it.

“If I was a boy, people wouldn’t make fun of my ugly ass body.” Something I felt primarily about my chest. Once I strangled a kid for pointing out my bra strap through a white shirt. No joke. I was volatile and pissed all the time because of dysphoria. Comments about being feminine quite literally triggered me growing up. Every violent fight I remember growing up was caused by someone making fun of me in relation to female gender.

Despite this problem being so obvious, my religious parents took me to Mormon operated therapy. The suggestions I was given by councilors was typically “Have you tried praying about it?” Or “Are you going to Young Women’s every Sunday?” For those of you who don’t know, in the LDS church, they separate Sunday school for age groups based on gender. In particular, they forced all girls to wear dresses.

Having that identity forced on me every Sunday against my will from a very young age caused me to resist in aggressive attitude. Hit a kid in the face with my bible bag once for telling me I should be in the kitchen.

Another unfortunate side effect of the Mormon upbringing was literally not knowing that trans people even existed. I recall seeing trans people (like with waiter we had once) and being a little perplexed but not too bothered. But no one had ever explained the concept to me until much, much later.

After I had dropped out, a friend of mine came out and at the time the concept was alien. I’d spent so much time in my life trying to choke down any hope of being a guy because of religion it seemed impossible to even change genders. But then a mutual friend between me and my trans one (who is now my roommate) explained to me in a car ride I still remember vividly about what testosterone does to your body. Bit of a side note, but the ‘micro phalus’ thing was something I straight didn’t believe and OH BOY LMAOOOO.

Anyway, with that information now tumbling around on my mind... I accepted my friend and continued to ignore my obvious feelings!

Life marched on. I sunk in to gaming addiction, depression, and repression. I think I first tried to kill my self when I was 20 years old. I had quit my job thanks to a car crash I got in to and sunk in to doing absolutely nothing but playing MMOs for months. Eventually I just convinced myself there was no possible way my life could anything meaningful or productive. I had a fairly unhelpful stay in a mental hospital. I got out, got a job at the Denver zoo as a janitor.

I coasted for a few years there. That job taught me a lot. People skills, how to work hard, how to care about the future... And one of my coworkers was a trans man. We didn’t talk much about his transition. Mostly we just talked about cool things at work and how shitty customers were.

I think that kind of interaction was so important to me. To everyone, him being trans was just natural. No one cared and he seemed pretty happy.

With that information I started to do a bit of research on my own. I’m not sure how many months of consideration I had before coming out subtly to my current roommate in a car.

At the time, pondering coming out to everyone around me and having to confront my body every day in mirrors I cleaned for a living became a sort of hell. I worked the 4am shift and had no one to talk to for the entire duration of my work day, leaving me with lots of time to watch videos and think. I mean I mentally battled myself to the point I was in a lot of pain. So I started taking pain killers, mood stabilizers, drinking, and smoking weed in excess. Since I worked in the dark alone, no one would know how fucked up I was. The primary wrench in me finally accepting my own needs was again that feeling of hopelessness. The process of transition seemed so intimidating. It’s expensive. It will take effort. What if I fuck this or that up?

Early 2017, I tried to kill myself again after months of tormenting myself. I remember when they put me in the ICU and asked for my name, I told them Mike instead of my now dead name. The nurses asked if I had a pronoun preference and I just couldn’t say anything at all. But the chart whiteboad hanging on the wall in front of my bed said “Mike’s”. Everyone who came to visit me saw this. In a way, I had forced myself to come out. My stay in the mental hospital provided the same information as the last, but this time I was more ready to accept it.

One of the exercises we did was write plans for the future. Before, I had left it blank. But this time? I had goals. One of them was to come out officially in a far less destructive fashion. My dad seemed to accept it but not fully support. Due to family tensions that were somewhat unrelated to coming out, I ended up moving out in Late September 2018.

Soon everyone in my personal life knew. I got laid off with my entire department at the zoo. I remember coming out to some of my coworkers based on how religious they were the last day. My next job, I introduced myself as Mike and even got a name tag.

At the end of 2018 I started on hormones after a battle to get ahold of a doctor. Since then, I’ve been a lot happier.

I’ve lost over 100lbs and started working out.

I’m currently working the highest paying job I’ve ever had.

I’m living in an apartment with people I really care about.

The people I keep around me accept my pronouns and are proud of me coming out.

I’ve grown a mustache I love so much I can’t bare to shave it.

The power of self actualization

In every respect, coming out and presenting myself in exactly the way I want to has improved my life. For me that included medically transitioning. It’s like I finally have something to look forward to. All the little changes make me excited and more confident in what I like every day.

Even minor things like clothing are now these exciting vehicles of self expression. I never used to buy things I liked since my parents controlled what I was and was not aloud to wear. And even when I got my own money, those standards forced upon me by Mormonism held me back. Every pay check has more meaning when I’m replacing the old life that I hated so much. I seriously love this tiger shirt I got.

I’m proud to tell people I’m trans because finally admitting to myself has improved my life and mental health and unimaginable degree. I went from wanting to die basically at all times to having excitement for what comes next. I’m enjoying activities that I never would have before. Going to gay bars and dancing has been so enriching for me and I absolutely never would have done that before when I was all angry and bristly.

Being trans can be such a possitive experience. It’s freedom. It’s being able to live your life comfortably.

I know there are a lot of people who don’t understand or don’t want to because of their upbringing... and if you are one of those people who managed to read all this, please know they if you’re anti-trans, you’re anti-freedom of expression, anti-mental health, and anti-social.

Coming out was like removing a clog from my life. I’ve FINALLY been able to start living. And that’s something I want people to know about me. I felt dead before I changed my name and pronouns.

By the way. I’m Mike. He/him. 25. And I’m not going to try and kill my self ever again because I’m enjoying my big trans life.👌

#long post #trans #transgender #pride #trans pride #guess this is my new years post #HAPPY NEW YEARS

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