#Happy Recording Screams and Torture Noises Day

[brilledcheese]

Happy Recording Screams and Torture Noises Day!!!!

Don’t call the cops! 🤫

Sound Designer problems.

[woogigi]

i had an idea. ITS LIKE A LIGHTBULB WENT OFF IN MY HEAD. soy is like a producer, right right so she'd be familiar with recording and editing and whatever. so im thinking yuqi overstims her in the studio w/ a strap and whatever else she has, and records soy's voice /evil laugh/

-Sorry you had to wait so long but here it is!!

Studio Sessions

Warnings: Dildos, fingerings, vibrators, overstimulating, multiple orgasms, mentions of gp

Soyeon was ignoring her messages, again

To say Yuqi was angry was an understatement. She was practically steaming at this point. She'd had a frustrating day herself and Soyeon said she would be home today. But of course the older lost track of time and was probably working on something in her studio.

An idea came to mind as Yuqi dug through their closet and found a bag. A small black duffel bag. One that held their favourite toys inside. She grabbed it and left the room and then the apartment. Making her way to Soyeons studio determined to teach the older a lesson.

Soyeon could barely react when Yuqi stormed in. Cheeks red from frustration and her lips twisted in a sneer that was far from happy.

"Yuqi?"

Yuqi walked forward and Soyeon inched back in her chair as Yuqi flopped onto the couch and crossed her arms. Staying silent as she stared at Soyeon. As if she was waiting for the older to say something.

Soyeon frowned in confusion and tried to sit up straight as she asked the puppy whats wrong.

Yuqi kept quiet as she kept staring.

Uneasiness swept through Soyeon as she could no longer hold direct eye contact with the younger.

"We were supposed to spend the night together and again you're here."

"I'm sorry, woogs but I'm almost finished I promise. I have a deadline coming up and I just want to get this done."

Yuqi stood and walked up to Soyeon. Standing between the olders legs as her wide eyes stared up at her.

"The deadline is in three weeks. You have more than enough time," Yuqi said as she cupped Soyeon's cheek.

The older leaned into the warmth but was still confused. Yuqi looked calmer now but there was a stern tone in her voice and the older knew that was never good.

"So, seeing as you can't seem to tear yourself away from your computer," soyeon tried to interject but Yuqi clamped her hand over her mouth to silence her, "I think I'll have to teach you a lesson. Maybe even give you some inspiration. Right, baby?"

Soyeon nodded barely registering anything with how hot Yuqi looked right now and wanted nothing more than to do whatever she said.

xxx

Soyeon could feel the tears threatening to spill as she felt her legs turn to jelly while her girlfriend laughed. Soyeon moaned loudly without meaning to as her body tried to relax after her intense orgasm.

Yuqi said she would teach her a lesson and she definitely was. Soyeon could barely feel her legs. Her back also numb from lying on a desk with a recording microphone right next to her. Taking in all the sounds she was making.

The younger seemed to be enjoying the humiliation of the leader as she played back the lewd noises she was recording. Soyeon wanted to feel embarrassed but Yuqi would play them the same time she'd use her favorite vibrator on her or Soyeon would feel the intrusion of Yuqi's fingers. Switching between toys as if to see which one could make her cum faster and scream louder.

Soyeon sighed when Yuqi stepped back but knew the heavenly torture wasn't over yet. She watched with hazy eyes as Yuqi took off her jeans and panties finally leaving her just as exposed as her girlfriend. She almost held back a moan when she saw what Yuqi got from the bag.

Noticing her approval, Yuqi smirked.

"I saved the best for last."

Soyeon closed her eyes and turned her head from the microphone. She hated how hot it was making her. The embarrassment of being recorded like this and knowing Yuqi she was probably saving it to some drive only she could get into.

She felt Yuqi's hand on her thigh as she went to stand between Soyeon's legs. Smiling at how fucked out the older looked. Yuqi teased her folds with the tip of the dildo laughing at how Soyeon grinned down wanting more

"You still want more after all that?" She wanted to mess with the older a little, "i thought you had so much work to get done but look at you letting me fuck you for hours. Begging for more."

Soyeon groaned barely able to get a response out but could feel the heat pooling between her legs as she waited for Yuqi to move. The youngers hands were pressed into her hips as she continuously teased Soyeon.

"Its okay baby, I'll give you what you want. You've been such a good girl for me. Letting me use you however I want."

Yuqi slid Soyeon down more in the desk as she lifted her hips. Impaling her and chuckling at the breathy scream Soyeon let out. It was moments like these where Yuqi wished it was really her inside the older. Feeling the ways her walls clench around her already so close to orgasm. Fucking her until Yuqi's stuffing her full of cum as she makes her, her own.

Those thoughts drive Yuqi as she thrusted harder and faster making Soyeon tip over the edge. Despite seeing her orgasm Yuqi kept going. Throwing Soyeon into a state of want but also the need for the younger to slow down. She wanted to ride out her orgasm but with the way Yuqi was fucking into her she knew she would reach that high again and soon. Her body had been overstimulated so much over the last couple of hours that she knew she was barely lasting.

Yuqi slowed down after Soyeon came a second time and kissed her through it. Leaving soft kisses down her cheek and neck. Showing how much she cared and giving Soyeon the soft attention she needed after the session they just had.

Soyeon checked the microphone to see it had fallen to the floor. Gasping seeing it had broken and feeling slightly embarrassed realising what happened.

"Yeah I think you'll need a new one," Yuqi chimed in after seeing where Soyeon was looking.

Soyeon started laughing and pulled Yuqi in for another kiss. Pushing her tongue past the youngers lips, tasting her.

Yuqi pulled back with a smile, "I'll have to keep going if you kiss me like that again."

Soyeon smirked as she pulled Yuqi in close again, "I wouldn't mind if you did."

[contentloadingandstuff]

Overstim with Ganyu and Kokomi

A/N: Fellow Ganyu enjoyers eating well this week, huh? Also, I did a thing with Kokomi - I wonder who will guess what exactly she is reading first...

CW: Male!Reader, bondage, names ("master", "girl"), overstim, cuteness.

And... cut.

Ganyu's stamina is not that great. She can take pain like a champ, but pleasure? It's a completely different story. Poor Ganyu can cum from even the gentlest fuck you can manage. Her body and mind is just too overwhelmed with pure lust for you to resist. Her record is four minutes, which wouldn't be a problem in the slightest if she didn't get so awfully sensitive after orgasm. Ganyu gets so loud and squirmy that it's hard to keep making love to her. 

She isn't happy with that,  not in the slightest. Despite all the reassurance from you that you're more than okay with her performance, she decided to work on that with edging. Being as diligent as ever, Ganyu designed a system of punishments and rewards. For holding out, she would get to choose between dates, cuddling and a little less healthy meals with you. As for her punishment, however… One orgasm for every fifteen seconds off her target time. 

Is it rough? Absolutely merciless. Is it working? No, of course not. Orgasm is not something Ganyu can entirely control, so cumming too early is rarely her fault. Then why the punishment? Because it makes things scarily exciting, she finds. She finds the process of having her mind broken extremely fun, even if she's crying, screaming, pleading for her punishment to end. She will always assure you that the extreme stimulation is the fun part, and that no harm is being done to her. You two also signed a contract between each other that no matter how much she begs you, you will not go easy on her. 

You watch on with a fond smile as your cute, gentle, beloved Ganyu lies on the bed. Her beautiful body is completely nude, safe for her thigh highs, now soaked in her own fluids. Two bullets buzz deep inside her, but most of the torment comes from the clit vibrator. Even despite it being on the lowest power it proves to be far, far worse than the other two. It vibrates on her swollen clitoris, setting fire to her pussy and making her whine. She shakes her legs constantly, desperately trying to knock the torture device off of herself, but legs are forced open with a spreader bar. Ganyu couldn't be a good girl, so you got it to help her serve her sentence thoroughly. Her small hands grip the ropes tying her to the bed frame so tightly that her skin is white. 

Underneath her bare frame are you, naked as well. Your dick rests against her back, throbbing with every beautiful sound she makes. Moans, cries, whines, whimpers, squeaks and squeals mix in with fragments of words. She tries to talk to you. She is desperate to be freed, freed from the unending, torturous pleasure, but Ganyu lost the ability to speak coherently three orgasms ago. You gently rock your hips, rubbing your length over her soft skin while slobbering her neck with messy kisses and slight nibbles. Your hands play with her breasts, massaging the bountiful flesh and rubbing her rock-hard nipples. 

She tenses up and her back arches, arms pulling on her restraints even harder. Her voice pitches and her noises become more panicked. You smile against her skin, and pull her back against you tightly. Her legs bend and kick in desperation. 

"Y/N Y/N Y/NY/Ny/ny/ny/ny/ny/n!" She gasps as another powerful orgasm washes over her. She relaxes her body for a split second, but Ganyu quickly gets squirmy again as the vibrators keep going, mercilessly pleasuring her exhausted pussy. You nibble on her ear, whispering to her in between your little bites. 

"Good little Qiling… cum for me, just like that. You can make it, I believe in you. Just three more orgasms and you're free…" 

Ganyu just whimpers in response as her torment continues. 

Hard days of work drain her energy completely. At the end of those times, she needs more than just a refill of her power supply. She needs a system reset. And what better way to reset herself than by being overstimulated to oblivion, until her exhausted mind completely breaks and you restore it with kisses and cuddles? She will do it for fun as well! Being pushed to multiple orgasms past her limit is so unbelievably intense and so very hot, she thinks. Kokomi just loves being shameless in front of you - a moaning, drooling mess, squirting all over a toy is a side of her only you will get to see. 

Especially if you play little games at the same time, with you as her (game) master. Like, say, reciting the strategy texts she memorized by heart. The constant mind melting vibrations on her cute pussy make it so much more challenging and fun. 

"...p-preparations against u-us… a-ah…" Kokomi's voice trembles.

You coo, stroking her soft hair. "Well done my dear! You're doing so good. What now…" You flip one of her favorite textbooks, looking for an interesting line to ask of her. "Chapter 3, entry 17, point 2."

Kokomi drops her head, face twisting into a frown of struggle. She fights to keep her mind intact enough to recite the passage. If she gets five in a row, no more orgasms will be added to her funishment. For every wrong answer the streak resets and one more orgasm gets added to her post-victory sentence. Her small, cuffed hands clutch the edge of the sybian. Small gasps and moans come out of her mouth, nearly drowned out by the constant buzzing of the machine working on her pussy. Her hands are not locked behind her back or over her head, because Kokomi is a good girl. Kokomi knows that if she can keep her pussy on the machine and her hands from interfering, no such measures have to be taken. 

"He… he w-will w-win wh- hm! - who k-knows how t-to hand-le b-both superior a-and inferior f-forces…" She says, eyes tightly shut in immense focus. 

"Good girl! Just one more, okay? You can do it baby~" You lean in, planting your lips on hers. As you kiss her, loudly and sloppily, her cuffed hands caress your bare chest. She moans, oh so beautifully on your lips. You part, leaving her on the device. “Let’s see… chapter 8, entry 12 as well as point 4. Can you quote it for me?”

“Hngh… p-point four…” She makes a short break for a whimper, and collects herself again. “T-there a-are five d-dangerous faultssss- AH!” 

Kokomi squeals and suddenly falls silent, moans replaced with quick breaths. Her small frame is slightly rocking against the sybian as her thighs tremble intensely. Her eyelids flutter, and she raises her cuffed hands above her head in pure orgasmic bliss. Her mouth hangs agape for a moment before all of her body relaxes and drops. You see her juices pouring down from underneath her slit. 

She remains still for a solid minute, features changing between expressions of pleasure and frowns of pain as the overstimulation picks up again. She gulps before speaking. 

“S-sorry Master…”

You put down her book, and move closer again. As her body trembles from a mix of relief, pleasure and overwhelming stimulation she looks at you, smiling brightly, barely any brainpower left to use in her mind. The intense wave of emotions forced tears from her eyes, leaving them to make their way down her cheek. You return her smile, affectionately wiping her tears.

“Don’t worry, you can try again, right? This time you’ll make it, I’m sure of it.” You stroke her cheek, and she leans into your touch. “I’m sure you’ll manage, because you’re not a good girl - you’re the best girl.”

You turn down the vibrations slightly with the remote, letting her get a little rest. Before turning the device back up, you place a smooch right on her little nose. 

“How about chapter 3 entry 7?”

Thanks for reading!

[ptergwen]

sensation

w/c: 4.6k

warnings: some swearing, suggestive tings, and a pretty bad ending

summary: it’s the last night of your world tour, and tom has the perfect way to celebrate

a/n: i know y’all have been waiting for this one! everyone really loved when worlds collide but i ran out of ideas for it lol sorry... anyways my solution was to turn it into a oneshot :D based off the au!! i’m honestly nervous about posting this cuz a lot of you asked for it and i don’t wanna disappoint but i tried my absolute hardest to make it special <3 please enjoy

-

“thank you so much! we love you!” you shout to the audience, laughing breathlessly when they shout back. one of your dancers pulls you into a side hug, you throwing your arm around his neck. “we’re so fucking lucky you chose us, that you came all the way here. i’ve seen some of you back at night one. wow.” your voice gets wobbly, thinking about how loyal your fans are.

the tour started in new york, and they’ve followed you here to london.

tonight is an emotional night for everyone. you’re about to wrap your last show before you continue again in the summer. touring the u.k. has been a dream, and you’re just as thrilled to travel the rest of the world after your break. it’s bittersweet because you’re going to miss the hell out of your crew and the millions of lovely faces you’ve sang to each week. but, you do get to spend your time off with a special someone.

he’s watching you from the sound booth, sending fond smiles and loud cheers your way. thanks to you, tom has been at every show you’ve played in england. he brought harry along this time because he’s also a fan and wanted to see you. well, tom is more than a fan at this point. you’d say he’s more of a boyfriend. you haven’t discussed labels just yet.

your dates have mainly been over facetime, since you live on opposite sides of the world with insane schedules. a heartthrob actor and international popstar is quite the combination. you’ve only seen each other in person a couple of times, the first being pretty recently.

zendaya brought tom along to hang out with you in los angeles. he happened to be there recording some lines for a movie. she saw your concert earlier that night and invited him to crash the dinner plans you’d made, resulting in the best surprise and most fun you’ve ever had. the other time you enjoyed each other’s company was one weekend in paris. that was... something.

besides those two miracles, everything between you and tom happens through a screen. you’ll down bottles of champagne or keep warm under blankets while talking about your days. it’s nice, having someone on the other end who listens and actually hears you. tom gets it. you both do.

finishing your tour in london is convenient because not only will you have tom to comfort you, but you get to stick around for a while. he’s invited you to stay at his place. you can’t wait to meet the other holland’s, his friends, and obviously tessa.

“fuck, i’m gonna cry. i’m already crying,” you announce to the crowd, though they can tell from the tears streaming down your face. more dancers huddle around you and turn your single hug into a group one. you’re laughing and sobbing and holding on tight to everyone. fans bawl their own eyes out, the fact that this is it starting to settle in. the onstage crew even gets choked up, seeing you like this.

tom pouts from where he’s watching. he wishes he could run up there and squeeze you tight, but he’ll have to save that for when you’re done.

“i love you all so much, literally every single one of you in this room,” you tell everyone for the nth time tonight, swiping a perfectly manicured finger under your eyes. “my lighting crew, sound crew, my band, my fearless fucking dancers-“ a hiccup cuts you off. people burst into fits of giggles, which is a much needed tension breaker. you adjust your headset so the mic doesn’t pick up any other bodily noises.

grinning, you rest your arm on a shorter dancer’s shoulder, then go on. “sorry, sorry. i just wanna say, like, three more thank you’s before i get out of here.” there’s a chorus of no’s and encouraging whistles at the mention of you leaving. you blink back more tears to delay the breakdown you’re going to have. “thank you to my friends who always show up for me.”

with a knowing smile, you glance over at tom. “and, thank you to my more than a friend.” he smiles back, both hands held over his heart. harry elbows him in congratulations. more screaming erupts from the crowd as they realize where you’re looking and who you’re looking at. this will be sure to spark some headlines. whatever, you’re used to trending on every possible social media platform by now.

“this is the big one,” you preface, taking in a breath while everyone quiets down again. “thank you to you guys. for trusting me, for caring about what i have to say in any way. i feel your love. i really do, and i hope you feel mine.” your fans yell that they love you back, dancers gently swaying you side to side, emotions on high. there’s one last song, and it’s over.

“this has been the sensation tour, and i’ve been your host. was i good?” you try to lighten the mood, earning a bunch of what sound like positive shrieks. the earpiece you have in makes it hard to tell. “y’all were even better.” exchanging looks with your dancers, you pull out of the hug so you can get to your mark for the finale. they follow your lead. music comes through the speakers.

“i’ll see you again soon, okay? i promise. here’s sensation,” you introduce the song, immediately bursting into more tears. it’s torture to say goodbye. thankfully, you have the most incredible fans on earth, so they sing along with you at the top of their lungs. that includes tom and harry, your ultimate stans.

when the show is over, you run right off stage and over to tom. he’s waiting on the side with actual heart eyes for you. you practically leap into his arms, a hand cradling the back of his head, both his arms draped low and tight around your body.

“you were so amazing up there! absolutely smashed it, darling,” tom breathes out. his face is smushed between your neck and mostly bare chest. “thanks, tom. seriously, thanks for being here tonight and every other.” you smile a tired smile and wind your other arm around his neck. he presses some light you’re welcome kisses to your skin. “mm, thanks for having me. how’s it feel to be done?”

you sigh, fingers running through his curls. “like the biggest relief, and also really sad.” you’re such a mess that you could cry again on the spot. tom senses it and lifts his head up to see if you’re alright. “super depressing,” you surprisingly reiterate without the waterworks. “i know the feeling. you’ll be back soon, though. you said it,” he murmurs, a grin on his lips as they brush against the corner of yours.

you’re about to kiss him properly, then one of your dancers comes up to you. you’d forgotten that there are still stage managers and security everywhere, too. you get completely lost in tom whenever you’re together.

“you killed, babe,” coco greets you, linking your arm in hers. tom takes the hint and lets go of you. he watches on with a smirk. “nah, you murdered,” you send the compliment back and bite your lower lip. “i dunno, i feel like someone murdered me!” there’s coco with her dramatics. she’s genuinely hilarious, your shared sense of humor playing a huge part in your friendship.

she brings your free hand to her heart. you gasp at how fast it’s going. “that shit is really beating, coco. are you, like, okay?” “probably not. it was the freestyle that got me.” coco went a lot harder than usual tonight, since it was her last big dance break for a while. she puffs air from her cheeks and nods to tom. “this your man?”

“yeah, you could say that. i’m tom,” he answers, holding out a hand for her. “coco.” she pulls it like you would in a handshake. you beam at them, one of your best friends and unofficial boyfriend finally meeting. “sounds promising. i approve,” coco mutters to you. bumping your hip into hers playfully, you take one of tom’s hands in both of yours.

“aw, we have your blessing or something? your permission?” you coo and get a push at your shoulder from coco in return. tom chuckles, his thumb running over the back of your hand. “no! i was gonna say you should bring him out back,” coco clarifies, like it was obvious. you’re not sure what she’s on about. “uh, what’s out back?” you question. “an axe?” tom teases.

coco gestures to the nearest exit. “we’re having a little goodbye party in the parking lot. fire pit, snacks. remember?” nope, you’d completely forgotten. the idea first sounded like the perfect way to end your night, so you agreed to go. that was before you were dripping sweat and mentally exhausted. now, all you want to do is unwind with tom and tom only.

the superstar life is one you’re happy to lead, just not at this exact moment.

“i do now.” you muster up your most apologetic smile for coco, tugging on tom’s hand. “i’m sorry, co. i think we’re gonna pass.” her jaw drops. you’re never one to skip these things. “aw, for real? it’s our last night!” tom threads his fingers through yours while you talk. “bro, we’ve been together for almost a whole year,” you laugh out, nuzzling your cheek into tom’s chest. “get sick of me.”

“never,” coco deadpans. she catches you gazing up at tom, relaxing as his arms hug your middle. she’s known you long enough to tell what’s a fling and what’s real love for you. this is something special, and she can’t get in the way of it. she’ll let you navigate this yourself. “ok, just for tonight. you’ll text me?” coco gives you a real smile, raising an eyebrow at tom. he gathers that’s a good thing. he’s in.

“mhm. maybe we can hang out tomorrow,” you agree and let your eyes flutter shut. all that’s keeping you up are tom’s strong arms. “tell everyone i love them.” “i think they know.” coco shakes her head lightheartedly. tom laughs at her. “be good,” she tells him and means it, rubbing your back on her way to the lot. that leaves you and tom alone at last.

custodians are cleaning up the arena, fans are piling out, and you’re clinging to tom while his steady heartbeat grounds you. this is the only after party you need.

“harry’s got the car when you’re ready,” tom mumbles, tucking a piece of damp hair behind your ear. you loop your arms around his torso with a hum. “i was kinda wondering where he went.” “yeah?” he gives you a small smile. “gotta ask what he thought... of the show.” yawns are creeping past your lips, tonight’s events catching up to you.

“i like feedback from the fans, or stans,” you elaborate in your sleepy state. tom uses his fingertips to tap your temple. “what about me? i’m your biggest.” “i’ll, um, follow up with you later.” your words are slurring. “right now, home.” warmth spreads throughout tom’s entire body, his house becoming yours for a bit. “your chariot awaits,” he affirms before helping you to your dressing room.

after collecting your things, you follow tom out to the car. harry is in the driver’s seat, and you two slip into the back. he exchanges a look with his brother through the mirror while you settle on his shoulder. you’re hugging his bicep, his lips pressing to the side of your head.

“thank you for driving,” you speak softly to harry. he starts to pull out of the spot with a nod. “no problem. get to say i was y/n y/l/n’s chauffeur.” tom clicks his tongue even though harry is joking. you snicker at his remark, joking back. “you want the job? better be a five star ride, then.” your banter brings yet another smile to tom’s face. his family is everything to him, so seeing you get along so well means the most.

“right, right. did you have a good time?” harry wonders, twisting to see behind him while he turns around. he also peeks at you snuggled up to tom before facing forward. “great, actually. did you?” you check, the grin clear in your voice. harry goes into full stan mode. “no shit! you were brilliant, y/n. god, every note was just like how you did it the studio.” he’s raving, which is much appreciated by you.

“good answer.” tom shoots his brother a wink. “‘s that what you wanted to hear?” he asks in reference to your conversation earlier. your response is a kiss to his shoulder. “yay. i’m happy you liked it, harry.” he buzzes with excitement, having his favorite artist care what he thinks.

not much is said for the rest of the drive. tom and harry make some hushed conversation about golfing this weekend while you struggle to stay awake. they’re obsessed with that damn sport. it’s honestly nice to see, that tom has something he likes to do when he isn’t shooting hollywood’s biggest movies. your free time will finally give you the chance to discover other hobbies.

you stumble out of the car upon arriving to the boys’ place, a backpack on your shoulders and tom’s hand held tight in yours. you’ve got only a few essentials with you for tonight. the rest is on the tour bus, so you’ll gather it after your hangout with coco. besides, everything you need at the moment is right here.

“home sweet home,” tom announces as harry unlocks the front door. his words bring a tired smile to your face. “finally,” you exhale, keeping your fingers laced with tom’s and following the two of them inside. “i could show you around a bit, give you the grand tour. or-“ tom stops talking, feeling your weight on him. harry huffs at how oblivious his brother is.

“mate, she’s falling over. save it,” he suggests and kicks the door shut lazily. you’re done in. you’ve been having to lean on tom since the show ended. “another time, then,” tom mumbles, securing his arm around your waist. “there is one thing i wanna see.” your voice is low, body curled into tom’s side. he raises an eyebrow. “and that is?” “your room.”

tom takes that in a suggestive way, like he does most things. “we’re getting right to it, are we?” he questions, harry gagging and you nudging his arm with your head. “not like that, dummy. ‘cuz i’m sleepy.” there’s a beat of silence. “ask me again in-“ “wow, look at the time!” harry interrupts so he doesn’t have to hear the details. he’s sure he’ll witness enough after it happens. “off to bed i go! goodnight.”

he rushes to get to his room, yelling out, “great show, y/n!” on the way. “thank you! night!” you call back, tom letting out a sigh. “div of the century,” he says under his breath. “must run in the family,” you playfully retort. that gets you a firm poke at your side. “where’s everyone else?” you glance up at him. there should be two other idiots and a lovely, furry lady running around.

“tuwaine’s gone to the pub, harrison’s filming late, and tess is at mum and dad’s,” tom fills you in, grabbing your arm and draping it around his middle. doing him one better, you hug him with both. you squint in confusion about the last part. “they watch her when i’m out,” tom answers your unspoken question. “ah,” you nod, then deflate ever so slightly. “i wanted to meet her, though. the other boys, too.”

tom smooths the pad of his thumb over your cheek. “you will, darling. it’s only for tonight.” he kisses the same spot reassuringly. “we’ve got loads of time.” “yeah, we do,” you agree, instantly cheering up and letting your head fall onto his chest. “now, where’s your room?” “just upstairs. you need some help getting in?” he’s only playing around, but you accept, tightening your arms around his neck.

“show me the way,” you beam at him. “happy to.” tom wiggles his eyebrows, you jumping up. your legs wrap around his waist, his arms holding you against him. with a satisfied hum, you squish your face into his insanely soft shirt. “what a diva,” tom sarcastically complains while taking you to the staircase. “doesn’t even say please. no manners from this one.”

“you try dancing in six inch heels for two hours,” you shoot back, patting the side of his neck. he moves one hand down to your thigh for a better grip. you’re nearing the top of the stairs. “think i’ll leave that to you,” he decides and squeezes your thigh. “look at me, carrying the whole music industry.” your face easily gets hot and your words turn to murmurs. “shut up. you should listen to other songs.”

you’re on the second floor now, tom going for the first door. he frowns at his rejected compliment. “no, i like yours. they’re my favorite.” “really?” your muffled laugh sounds from his chest. “what was the first thing i ever said to you?” he asks, a toothy grin on him even though you can’t see it. you recall the faithful night he slid into your dms while he carries you into his room.

he’d tripped over his words somehow, the fangirling fool. before that, he tweeted to the whole world that he wanted to see you in concert. it was a huge thing, and people were freaking out about it, even more so when your online interactions became routine. that’s nothing compared to where you are now.

you’re currently living with him and basically dating. possibly, in love. the base of it all really is your music.

“that you love me.” you pause for the ellipses. the corners of your lips turn up. “but, you really meant to say my work.” “both apply.” tom passes that off like it’s a side comment, carefully laying you down on his bed. you look up at him with a curious glint in your eyes. “what does that mean?” his cheeks flush, and he bites back the smile that’s growing. this was supposed to go... differently.

you sit up, breathing out a laugh at tom’s boyish behavior. he’s precious, truly. “you do love me?” those three words will change everything if he says yes. he takes both your hands in his and holds them between you two. you meet his doe eyes. “yeah, y/n/n. i do.” so, you were right. “i love you... and, that wasn’t how i planned on saying it.” signaling for him to elaborate, you tilt your head to the side.

tom sits down next to and faces you before continuing. “it was supposed to be romantic, right?” he rolls his eyes up to the ceiling, annoyed he ruined this. “candlelit dinner, flowers, that sort of thing. seems more fitting for the occasion.” you shift closer to him until your knees are touching. your face is lit up, voice dropped to almost a whisper.

“since when do we do things the way we’re supposed to?” you point out and set your hands on his shoulders. “we’ve gone straight from online dating to me moving in. that’s usually not how it works.” tom chuckles lowly. his own hands find their place on your hips. you’re so good with words. then again, you are a singer. “guess you could say we’re, um, spontaneous,” he agrees, fingers drawing circles on you.

you and tom have explored some of each other’s most intimate places, yet you’ve never shared a moment quite like this. it’s like meeting him for the first time again. he’s too tongue tied to spit out what he wants. you somehow know, anyway. what you cherish most about your relationship is that you two completely and totally understand one another, on every level.

“tom?” you speak quietly, butterflies filling up your body. “hm?” he hums back. this is one of those moments where it all just clicks. “i love you. i really, really love you.” you giggle out of the pure happiness that consumes you, tom joining in your laughter. “i love you, too.” he sounds like he’s said it a million times and he’ll say it a million more. he leans over so his forehead rests on yours. “really, really love you.”

your warm breath hits his face, eyes darting from his own to his lips. “i want you to be more than...” you trail off, unsure of how to phrase it. “more than... more than a friend?” tom pokes fun at what you said during the show. there’s less and less space between you with every second. “you mean, like, a boyfriend?”

“exactly. be my boyfriend,” you all but demand. you’re half asleep and desperate to be able to call him yours already. “bossy, bossy, bossy,” tom chastises, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip. how he goes from being shy and giddy to the cockiest person alive in minutes, you’ll never know. “please?” you throw in to sway him. your hand locks with his, slowly moving it off your face.

you run your tongue over your teeth. “at least kiss me.” “you don’t have to ask,” tom breathes, lips now ghosting over yours. “i was going to.” true to his words, he closes the microscopic gap between you, you pushing forward against him as you kiss back. your first kiss in love. his lips taste like the chapstick he always uses, and he moves them softly.

he places a hand on your knee, you opening your mouth so he can have access to it. instead, a yawn exits. tom pulls back with a breathy laugh. “you must be exhausted, yeah? let’s get you to bed.” he pecks your lips once more. “my girl needs her beauty rest.” that confirms your relationship. you scrunch your nose and grin wide. “and, she’s gonna get some with her boy.”

you’re reminded of how sweaty you are when you catch a whiff. “oof, wait. do you think i can take a shower first?” you grimace, fanning at the air for emphasis. tom uses the tip of his nose to nudge yours. “absolutely. need help in there, too?” he’s not asking in that way, only so nothing happens. the hospital wouldn’t be the most pleasant place to spend your break. plus, he doesn’t want to be without you too long.

“you know what? yeah.”

that’s how you end up intertwined under the hot water, letting it cascade down your back as tom hugs you close to him. you sigh in content and tangle your fingers in his fluffed over curls. you’ve learned that he’s super into having his hair played with. it’s endearing, how he instinctively leans into your touch, eyes closing as you tug on the roots.

he drops his head down to kiss your shoulder, dragging his lips to your collarbone in a way that tickles. they land on one of your breasts next. there isn’t anything sexual about it, only loving. just in case he gets too excited because it’s not uncommon he does, you gently put a finger to his lips. tom takes the hint and lets up. you continue combing through his wet hair while you step out of the water.

“do you ever sing in the shower?” he questions, drawing your naked body in closer to his. “sometimes, yeah. i honestly feel like i sound better there,” you admit and slide your hand down to the nape of his neck. tom’s tongue darts out to lick his lips. “not true. you sound beautiful everywhere, and don’t fight me on this one.” he smirks in satisfaction, you groaning at your loss.

“i really enjoy hearing your voice when it blares through an arena, though,” tom keeps buttering you up. you shake your head and settle both arms around his neck. “man, i just love you so much.” “i love you, sweetheart,” he murmurs back, you switching places so he can give his hair a final rinse. you watch him and his glowing body, admiring the sight.

“what a sensation you are,” you say mostly to yourself, which doesn’t stop him from hearing. “i see what you did there.” he eyes you while you do the same to him. your arms still around his neck pull him back to you. “tommy? do you sing in the shower?” you meant to ask him before, then he started throwing all those compliments at you.

tom scoffs, walking you back so you’re against the wall. “i don’t sing anywhere.” “what?” you gasp and put a hand on his chest. “you’re lying, you have to be. wasn’t billy elliot a musical?” he narrows his eyes at you as he tries to gage where you’re going with this. “that i did a decade ago, and way before puberty. couldn’t sing a word without cracking after that.”

your mouth is left hanging open in shock and disappointment. you bet he has a nice voice, and he’s downplaying it. “y/n,” tom begins, cupping your jaw with his palm. “since we’re living together now, there’s a lot you’re going the learn about me. good things, weird things.” he shrugs casually. “this is one of the weird things.”

“only because you make it weird! come on, let me hear you,” you request and wrap a leg around his waist. you’re giving him a hopeful smile. “god, no. you’ll hate it,” he almost laughs, a hand on your thigh. “i’m literally a singer. how could i hate something i love?” you refute, batting your lashes at him. “especially when someone i love is doing it.” “i love you, too. but, i’m not.” he’s quick to shut you down.

“drop a bar!” you try to coax him, which he already has a comeback for. “you first.” “i can’t. my throat is all scratchy from earlier,” you lie. tom presses his lips into a line, feigning pity. “aw, you know what’ll make you feel better? tea. i’ll go get you some.” he turns to shut the water off, so you grab his shoulders. “no, the steam is working. you can stay.”

“love,” tom addresses you in a warning tone that you can’t take seriously. he can’t either, a giggle escaping him. “my voice is shit. ask anyone, and they’ll tell you.” “i won’t believe them,” you hum, pushing back curls sticking to his forehead. “sounds like you just have stage fright. we can work on that, though.” “how?” he tightens his arm around your middle.

“i’ll bring you on for my next show. we’ll do a little duet.” you’re joking, though that would definitely be interesting to see unfold. “uh, never. what happened to you being tired?” tom cleverly deflects and digs his fingers into your side. you look down in defeat. “i forgot about that.” “yeah, yeah. no, seriously. we should really get to sleep, y/n/n.” he’s back to his sweet, attentive self. “‘s been a long night.”

giving in with a nod, you capture his lips in yet another kiss. tom never gets tired of them, and neither do you. you break it after a few seconds, lips lingering on his as they detach. “carry me?” you ask again, not caring how whiny you sound. tom presses a quick kiss to your forehead. “oh, you’re adorable. of course.”

well, you’ve found something to keep you occupied until the next leg of tour. you’re going to discover the many layers your intriguingly unusual boyfriend has.

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Their Doll 14

Sweetheart

B.Barnes x Stark!Reader, S.Rogers x Stark!Reader

series synopsis:  y/n Stark, all records of her non existent, and yet Hydra still find her. When she is kidnapped by a certain super-soldier and no one believes her, she finds herself searching for unexpected familiarity in her not-so-distant past.

Series Warnings: smut, violence, torture, swearing

Chapter Summary: y/n and Steve have some time alone

Warnings: smut, lots of smut. Sweet sex. Maybe some swearing, knowing me there’s probably some

A/n: The timeline in this has been altered, as there I things I wanted to include but I also wanted this fic to follow the storyline/timeline of Winter Soldier and Civil war.So for purposes of this fanfic, Peter Parker was discovered by Tony at a much younger age - when he was bitten - and has been an intern with him since, almost like a protégée.(For the purposes of this story Peter was bitten much younger too - more like when he was 9 or ten rather than 14/15)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

"Hey, sweetheart." Steve grinned, pulling y/n into a quick kiss as she walked down to breakfast. She gave him a warm smile, leaning onto his touch as Steve wrapped and arm over her shoulders and pulled y/n into him.

"What just happened?" Clint mused, a frown settling on his face as his eyes flicked between the two of them. Nat quirked a brow, Thor smiled like and idiot and Tony rolled his eyes.

"I- I think they just kissed." Bruce supplied, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Finally." Nat muttered, pushing her food around her plate. Thor was still grinning, the curl of his lips boyish.

"What are you so happy about?" Steve asked, brows raised but tone playful.

"Just the fact that Tony here," Thor clapped Tony on the shoulder, "owes me 100 dollars now." Thor confessed, Tony's unamused expression making everyone laugh. Of course y/n's came out silent.

"You bet how long it'd take us to get together?" Steve inquire, and Tony smirked.

"No, I bet you wouldn't get the balls to ask her out because you're frigid and have no clue how to talk to women." He explained.

"I talk to Nat!" Steve countered.

"Nat doesn't count, she's a coworker. And most probably gay." Tony said flatly, and Nat merely shrugged when Steve looked to her for help.

"So, what's the plan for today?" Clint asked after the silence had ensued the room. Tony began to speak but Thor cut him off, earning the Asgardian God a glare.

"We're going to find Bucky." He said optimistically. Y/n instantly perked up, eyes flickering between the super soldier sat beside her and her dad across the table.

"What? Don't look at me!" Steve exclaimed, hands held up in surrender. Tony breathed a heavy sigh.

"That's not what we're doing. Finding my daughter's HYDRA escapade is merely a bonus, and that's if you could even call it that." Tony dismissed and y/n sent him a look at could kill. "Today, we are invading a HYDRA base, so I want everyone on their best behaviour." Tony said, eyeing up the avengers in the room. "And you're not coming." He added hastily, pointing a finger at y/n.

"How come?" Nat asked for her.

"Y/n has already been kidnapped by HYDRA twice, I don't feel like it's a good idea to give them the opportunity for a third time." Steve answers before Tony could.

"What is it with everyone and talking over me today?!" Tony complained, pushing back from his seat and dumping his empty coffee mug in the sink. "Meet at the quinjet at 12." Tony turned to leave, not even making it to the door before he was turning around to face steve and y/n again. "And you're not coming either." He said pointedly at the super soldier.

"Wha- why not?!"

"Because of your emotional attachment. I can't have you freaking out and falling onto a river again just because you had some minor nostalgia." Tony said dramatically.

"That's not what happened." Steve defended.

"Close enough." Tony waved off, leaving the room without another word.

...

"How are you?" Steve asked, perching himself beside y/n on the sofa whilst placing the bowel of popcorn on the coffee table.

Shit. We should be with them.

"I know, Doll. I know." Steve sighed, sinking back into the cushions and slinging an arm over the back of the sofa, behind y/n.

I just feel guilty.

"I get it, trust me, I do. I spent years feeling like this before I got the serum. I changed my form five times before Dr Erskine found me." Steve admitted, placing a soft kiss on y/n's cheek as a method of reassurance. "Now," he spoke after a moment, "what are we watching?"

Y/n grinned at that. She'd been catching Steve up with all the movies he'd missed, and at the same time checking out a few of the ones she'd missed in the four years she was with HYDRA.

A classic, one of my personal favourite movies. Or at least it was.

"And what is this movie called, darling?" It was that moment that y/n pressed play, eyes lighting up with excitement when the film begun to play. When the title screen flashed, Steve smiled slightly, having heard of the movie from all the avengers. Harry Potter and the Philosopher's stone flashed on the screen, y/n smile widening at the familiar words.

We're not stopping until we finish all 8 movies, just so you know.

Steve shook his head playfully. They'd been told the mission would last a few days, maybe even a week.

"Good thing Tony has lots of popcorn then." Steve muttered, settling back into the couch as y/n curled against his hard chest.

They barely began the fourth movie before Steve's hands were wandering slightly, skimming over y/n's thighs and tracing small circles into her skin with his thumbs. His lips kissed along the back of her neck, up to her ear.

Y/n turned her head slightly, giving steve a questioning look. He have her a mischievous smile, dipping his head down to her neck and continuing to kiss the smooth skin. Y/n gasped when his lips hovered over the scar, lightly brushing over the raised skin.

"M'bored." He mumbled, hands inching even higher until they skimmed the bottom of her shorts. Y/n let out soft sighs, leaning into Steve's touch. Her eyes fluttered closed, mouth open in a silent moan when his thumb slipped into her shorts and brushed over her now damn panties. He smirked against her skin. "Looks like someone's not so bothered about finishing the movies anymore." He murmured.

Y/n turned around quickly in his lap, connecting their lips in a desperately slow kiss. Steve moaned against her mouth, hand travelling up to tangle in her hair whilst his other hand grasped her thigh and hooked it over his lap, so that y/n was straddling him. Her arm intertwined around his neck when she felt the bulge pressing between her legs, pressing down against it and grinding her hims.

Steve groaned, detaching his lips from hers and trailing them along her jaw, her neck, pulling down y/n's shirt collar slightly to kiss at her collar bone. Y/n threw her head back, hands grasping the bottom of Steve's t-shirt and tugging it over his head. Steve broke away from her for only the time it took to get his shirt over his head before his lips were latched to her skin again, teeth nibbling lightly at her collar bone before his kisses were trailing back up to her ear.

"Are you sure this is okay?" He breathed, biting her earlobe lightly. Y/n nodded, hands trying to find the bottom of her own shirt. Steve pulled away, hands cupping both her cheeks and forcing y/n to look into his eyes. "Are you sure this is okay?" He asked sternly, but his nose brushing hers affectionately said otherwise.

Y/n remained eye contact, nodding slowly so he understood. A massive smile spread over Steve's face, his lips connecting with her's in a passionate kiss, mostly teeth and tongue.

Before they new it, clothes were gone and Steve remained in only his briefs, kneeling on the floor in front of y/n. He picked up her leg, placing a soft kiss to her ankle, then her calf, then her knee. Finally, he reached her core, where he placed a teasing kiss over her clothed clit that made y/n buck her hips up.

"None of that." Steve chuckled, pressing an arm to her stomach to keep y/n's hips pinned to the sofa. He moved away, kissing the inside of her thighs teasingly while she gasped and sighed above him. Steve smirked against her, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of her panties before slowly pulling her down her legs.

Steve buried himself between her thighs, eating y/n out like she was his last meal and he was a man starved. Y/n's mouth was permanently open, the lewd moans she would be making substituted with silence as Steve's tongue lapped around her clit, down to her entrance and back up again.

It had been nearly a month since y/n returned from hell, and they hadn't done much more than kiss. Y/n and Steve had decided to keep their relationship secret for a while, knowing that it may stun a couple of their teammates and not to mention how unpredictable Tony's reaction was.

As much a steve wished he could hear y/n moaning - no screaming - his name, Steve was just happy that he could finally get a taste of the girl he loved. Of course, she didn't know his feeling ran quite that deep yet. He moaned into her core, her taste, her sweetness, one he could devour for hours and still be unsatisfied. One of the things spurring him on were Bruce's words: in a few months, her voice should start to return.

Y/n came with a sinful arch to her back, and Steve happily lapped up everything she gave him. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, heavy breathing echoing in the room and Steve fumbled to get out of his trousers and boxers. When they were off, he cooed gently in y/n's ear when she gasped at the size.

"I'll go gentle. If you need me to stop, for any reason, tap me three times with two fingers anywhere and I promise I'll stop." He assured, rolling a condom over his length.

The brightest smile spread on steve lips when the hoarse sound staggered from y/n as he pushed in. We're getting there, he thought. Her eyes widened, an excited sparkle to them in the realisation that she made a noise.

Steve's strokes were slow but powerful, bringing both him and his girl to the edge very quickly. The speed of their release could also be due to the fact that neither of them had been laid in a little while too. Steve's grin never left, the hoarse sounds still coming from y/n. She seemed pleased too, but was way to wrapped out in the feeling of his tip nudging her cervix to care.

When they came, Steve cried out y/n's name with a grunt and a groan, collapsing on the sofa beside her as both avengers tried to catch their breath back.

"That was...amazing." Steve sighed, smirking when he felt y/n nod against his chest, which she'd now curled into with a leg thrown over his waist. Steve pulled a blanket over them both, carding a hand through y/n's hair and rubbing smooth circles into her scarred back.

His fingers ran over the dips and bumps of the raised flesh, a pang of guilt eating at him when Steve realised everything she'd been through. He sighed deeply, sinking further into the sofa as y/n nuzzled into his chest further, he steady breathing telling him she was already fast asleep.

Steve could feel his own eyes drifting shut now, his long eyelashes scraping over his cheeks as sleep pulled him under. Little did Steve know, that the next few weeks would be full of sex with his girl, the act something she'd become obsessed with because she could make a sound whilst he was buried balls-deep within her.

It ended up driving the rest of the team mad, especially Tony. Y/n would try and pull Steve out of conference meetings, tease him throughout briefings and debriefings, keep him up all night when they had nothing to do the next day, just so she could hear her own voice again.

And don't get steve wrong - the sex was wonderful, like entering heaven, but the tiredness that ensued and pulled his whole being down like an anchor wasn't so great.

Everyone noticed it, but Steve would brush them off - after all, he only wanted to see y/n happy, and he loved hearing her voice, no matter how strained it currently was.

So when the team got back from their mission the first time they slept together, devoid of Bucky, Steve and the rest of the team decided to keep the rest of their missions to find the winter soldier on the down low. The shear disappointment steve had seen in y/n's eyes when they told her shattered him, made him want to cry as tears slipped down her reddened cheeks.

[uh-oh-howd-i-get-here]

After All This Time (Bucky Barnes X Fem!Reader) Part 2

I went ahead and wrote the second chapter, I was so excited. I did a lot of research on PTSD and the triggers. I may not have a full grasp on it, but I hope I at least got some of it right. I feel kinda iffy on writing the characters, but I did my best to stay true to who they are. I hope you like this chapter!

Summary: The real world is a scary place, even more so when you’re alone. You live alone in a apartment filed with the ghosts of your memories. You’ve both changed since you last met your fiancé, but can love mend the gap after all this time.

Pairing: Bucky X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of torture, violence, yelling. Talks about triggers and PTSD. Mentions of death and killing. If there are any that I missed please let me know!

Word Count: 2,492

Part 1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Steve, I don’t understand why you’re dragging me out here to this museum.”

“They told me that they made a new addition to the Captain America exhibit and I didn’t want to go alone.”

Bucky clenched his vibranium hand and continued to follow Steve. “Did they at least tell you what it’s about?”

Steve sighed, “No, they didn’t. I wish they had though, I hate going into these things blind. Who knows what they’ve dug up.

“Steve, did you find it?”

“Uh, yeah Buck. I don’t think you want to see it though. It’s something they had no business digging in”

“What is it Steve. And don’t even think of lying to me, I know you too well.”

Steve sighed and led Bucky to the new exhibit. A memorial just like Bucky’s, but it was dedicated to Y/N L/N.

Bucky scoffed but read it out loud anyways. “Y/N L/N was a childhood friend of both Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes. Y/N met the two in 1923 and they were close ever since. In 1941 record says that she became engaged to Sargent Barnes, but never married. Y/N was drafted as an Army Nurse but died in Germany in 1944.” A picture of her before the war and in a case were her dog tags, which was weird. If she hadn’t been found, how were her tags here.

Bucky trailed off, the rest just going on about what kind of person she was. They stood in silence for a while, both staring at her picture. Steve finally broke the silence, “How much of her do you remember?”

Bucky looked away and tried to remember the girl in front of him. Flashes of smiles, tears, and laughter floated through his head, but he could only focus on one memory.

“I don’t remember her before the war.” Steve’s head moved to look at Bucky so fast that his neck cracked.

“What do you mean before the war Buck.”

He looked at Steve and backed up until he could collapse on a bench. A deep breath then, “I remember seeing her when I was the Winter Soldier. I vaguely remember a mission, maybe a couple, and then an order. I couldn’t help myself. All I could do was watch as I choked her to death, them dragging her away after declaring her dead.”

He shook his head as if he could erase the memory, make it disappear to never see again.

“If you killed her-“ Steve paused, “If you went on missions with her then she didn’t die in 1944. She was captured by Hydra. Then there could be a possibility that she, well that she could still be alive. Could it be possible that it was staged? Buck is there any chance at all that she could still be alive?”

Bucky shook his head again and looked at his hands. “I felt it Steve, I felt her neck crush. There’s no way she survived that.”

He took a deep sigh and felt the world shift, his heart plummeted to the ground as he realized the full gravity of what happened. “Oh god. Oh god, I killed her. I killed my fiancé, Steve.”

Steve just sat down next to Bucky, still in shock. She had been a good friend to Steve. They had come from similar backgrounds, hell they had grown up together, she understood him in a way that Bucky never could have at the time. She had been there when needed and even when she wasn’t. A ray of sunshine in a dreary New York. He had taken a picture of them after Bucky had proposed. They were all so happy.

It shook Steve to his core that Hydra had gotten their hands on her. He couldn’t imagine the horrors that she had gone through, might still be going through much like his best friend. Was she as much of a shell as Bucky?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It felt good to walk into her apartment without having to break in. She had hassled every office and bank that had her name in its databases to get her back as a registered live, human being. And to get electricity and water going to her place.

She had already been living in the apartment, but now she could cook, light a fire, and make noise. With her accounts opened again, she bought a couple pairs of clothes to wear while she cleaned the place.

Starting with the kitchen she cleaned every surface, threw away all the canned food that had been left behind.

By the time she had finished cleaning, she was physically exhausted, but she couldn’t bring herself to sleep in the master bedroom. She had managed to turn off her emotions for the day. No tears had been spilled because there had been work to get done. But her new superpower didn’t work now that she had nothing to do. Y/N stood in the middle of the living room desperately trying to stuff her emotions back into the box they had been in, but they had seen their chance and taken it.

Tears filled her eyes and she took her first real look around the place she had once called home. It was like she had never left at all. A place for everything and everything in its place. She turned to face the worn leather wingback. The thick blanket draped over the back just like it always had. She shuffled over to the chair and sat down in it. The leather was cold but familiar with the smell of her life before the war. Ghosts of days past floated through the air around her. She curled up in the chair, thick blanket pulled over her.

Things had been so easy then, and it would be so easy now to just fall back into that time when everything was perfect. Except the person that had helped make it perfect wasn’t here. A tear fell from her cheek onto the leather, and she quickly brushed it off not wanting to ruin the chair.

As she was wallowing in self-pity, a fight broke out on the street below her window, voices piercing the air and pulling her back to a place she never wanted to go again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Project Cecilia had become a nightmare. A nightmare she couldn’t wake up from. The project was a testing ground of trial and error. They tested the trial serums, triggers, enforcers, and everything else to make sure that they wouldn’t damage whoever took the role of Winter Soldier. The project was named after the scientist who did most of the testing.

The serums were bad, it felt like lighting her blood on fire, like hell itself was inside her. But trigger testing was far worse. For every test or experiment, a trigger experiment came after. Is sound more effective than smell? Are words better than sounds? What kind of words work better than others?

Trial and error for over 30 different types of triggers until they settled on a list of words that would mean something to the Winter Soldier. Her mind was blocked off so carefully that she couldn’t remember anything before the last trigger.

Here she was, testing how much electricity a super soldier could take before things started to shut down. And then the doctor walked in. Constantine Cecilia was the man who haunted her dreams. She couldn’t ever quite remember who he was, but somehow she knew that when he arrived, things would be bad.

“How is our little rabbit doing today? I believe a congratulations are in order, you finished testing.”

He put on plastic gloves and his assistant walked up to them both. “She’s due for sound this time.”

The doctor smiled. “Good good.”

Things were going well; the set-up went smoothly. She was ready to receive the trigger, the thing her mind would take as a trauma to seal away all of the bad.

But then a fight broke out, and then people were yelling, screaming at each other. The trigger was set.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shuri had done her best at getting rid of the physical effect of the triggers, and by best, she was completely successful. Unfortunately, there was still an emotional effect that came with the triggers. Certain smells, sounds, colors, and even sometimes emotions would send her spiraling into a memory. Most were memories that terrified her, they brought her back to Hydra and their torture. Some were good, like remembering life before the war.

They happened less at home, surrounded by memories of a past that never hurt. The outside world was what tortured her. Going outside was like sentencing herself to relive the worst of her life.

And she remembered it all. Hydra had done such a good job of playing Tetris with her brain that every time that Shuri released a trigger, she remembered everything. Y/N bet that Dr. Cecilia was laughing in his grave at her tragedy.

Y/N fell asleep under the thick blanket on the chair of the man she had loved more than anything else in the whole world.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N decided to visit the Veterans Center, hoping that they magically had the cure for what Shuri called PTSD. She walked inside and was met with the smell of burnt coffee and laughter down the hall. She followed the noise until she came to what looked like a break room, or a very poor excuse for a kitchen.

A tall man took notice of her and he excused himself to go talk to her.

“Hi, can I help you?”

“I, uhh, came here to talk to someone, hopefully.” Y/N cursed herself for feeling so small. She was a veteran after all. She just fought in a different war.

“Are you a vet?”

“Yes?”

He smiled, “Well then welcome. My name is Sam Wilson. I help run this place. Mostly I work with the people though. Business isn’t really my style.”

Y/N gave a weak smile.

Sam spoke up again, much to her relief. “Why don’t we go somewhere to talk so we aren’t standing in a door way.”

She merely nodded and followed Sam to a room with foldable chairs and a couple beat up sofas.

After they had sat down, and awkward silence filled the air. Sam cleared his throat, “So what’s your name?”

Y/N took a deep breath and “My name is Y/N”

Sam nodded. “What war did you serve in Y/N?”

She froze, of course she could just answer him. She heard there was a whole museum dedicated to the two oldest people on the planet, so why was it so hard?

“You don’t have to tell me if you aren’t comfortable with it. I’m not going to force you into anything here. It’s a safe place.” The genuinely caring smile on his face helped her relax.

“I fought in World War II.”

Sam looked startled for a second. “Excuse me?”

“I was a nurse with the Red Cross in World War II.”

She watched as Sam’s shoulders dropped. Y/N prepared to fight, to tell him that it was true, without going through the horrors that she had witnessed. She prepared to give him the riot act like she had for every person who hadn’t believed her at the bank and social security office.

Instead, he started laughing. “Man, I wonder how many more of you there are out there,” Sam said between breaths.

The look of confusion on her face must have put more puzzle pieces together for him at how lost she really was.

“You… You actually believe me?”

“Yeah I do! I work with the other two.”

She suddenly felt cold, like someone had just dumped a bucket of ice water over her head. While Shuri had told her about James, or Bucky, and about Steve and how they both lived in New York in the Avengers Compound, it had never occurred to her that they were so close. So close, yet so far away. Her heart dropped.

“How exactly do you know them? You said you worked with them, so you must be an Avenger I suppose.”

“How much do you know about this time and place?”

She felt, for the first time since she left Wakanda, that someone understood. Only a fraction maybe, but an understanding all the same. Sam somehow knew that she didn’t know much about the present she found herself in. She didn’t really care to learn either though, the world was scary, and she had to face it alone for the first time in her life.

“Not much. I’ve only been off ice for about 9 and a half months now. Most of that was spent in Wakanda, while Shuri worked on getting rid of my triggers.” The more she talked the more Sam’s face filled with understanding and horror and that scared her.

“You were captured by Hydra weren’t you?”

All she could do was nod, her head held low.

“I won’t ask about that. I know better than that. I can’t even begin to imagine the horrors you’ve been through.

“Well, I’m the Falcon, I fly and I see things really well with my goggles. Other than that I’m just a human, no serum or anything.”

It was like all she could do was nod her head, she had been robbed of words.

“Would it be ok if I went home?”

“Of course! Nothing is keeping you here. I’m glad we met, and you’re more than welcome to come by anytime at all. We do close at 9 pm, but here’s my phone number if you need anything after those hours.”

More nodding. Y/N rushed home.

The first thing she did was climb into the chair, drape the blanket over her, and tell a ghost of what happened.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Sam are you ok? You seem distracted today”

“Yeah. Yeah man I’m good.” Sam looked at Steve for a minute. “Say have you ever met someone named Y/N L/N? She came into the VA today and when I asked what war she fought in she said WWII. She was captured by Hydra. I didn’t press her on it, she got that same look that Bucky does when it gets brought up.”

Steve froze. “What was her name?”

“Y/N L/N, do you know her?”

“Are you sure about what you told me?”

“Yeah. Why? What’s going on?”

“What did she look like?”

“She had H/L hair and E/C eyes. She was about yay-tall” Sam held up a hand to about her height. “Again, do you know her?”

“I promise I’ll tell you later, but I gotta go.”

Steve took off running through the compound until he got to Bucky’s door. He hadn’t seen Bucky since the museum, but this was important. He pounded on the door, “Buck! Bucky! Open the door!”

A quiet mumbled “Go away Steve” came as a response.

“Bucky,” Steve pleaded. “She’s alive. Sam met her today.”

Silence.

Then the door opened. “Where?”

[narrators-journal]

Return to sender

CW: I’m bad at writing pregnancy stuff,

first part: here

previous part: here

Before you knew it, you'd been on your own for almost four months. God, it's been so long. You thought with a bit of fear as you drove home from the store in the swiftly waning light of evening, glancing at the passengers seat where bags of all of the supplies you had looked up for having a home birth. Which wasn't going to be fun, but going to a hospital meant paperwork and being kept in one place for an unknown amount of time, easily trackable, not to mention the hospital birth records would be perfectly accessible to the Zoldycks, meaning they could track down your baby. So, you were just going to bite the bullet and do it yourself. On the bright side, I have about 2 months to prepare and learn, so things will go great. You told yourself, sending a quick prayer to any god listening that you didn't face any complications, because you'd only gone to one doctor's appointment for the baby, and while it didn't show any bad omens for the birth, that had been ages ago, so you weren't really sure of how healthy your baby currently was. Though, some of that anxiety was more-so from the small changes you'd begun to notice in these last few weeks. It wasn't anything major, mostly cramping, more backpain, and exhaustion, but good ol' google had told you these may be signs of pregnancy. Hence the evening trip to the store for all of the things you lacked at home for a home birth. You hoped you were just being overly cautious, but you couldn't be too sure. Despite that though, you did your best to stay positive and just went about collecting your shopping as carefully as you could and waddling up to your nasty little apartment. You were pretty happy at the bottom of the stairs, on edge, as always when the place you lived had so many sketchy people that their aura seemed as engrained in the carpet as the mystery stains on your bedroom floor, but your mood instantly fell when you got to the top of the stairs. You stood there, heart racing, (e/c) eyes wide and frantically searching for any reason as to why you were suddenly so nervous. After all, you'd worked through this level of anxiety in your first month there, you should have a better handle on it than this, but then it clicked. It's too quiet. You realized, putting a hand on the banister to steady yourself as the dread hit you. Your apartment building was still bustling with noise, from neighbors having sex loudly, to someone's kids getting into a shrieking match, those noises were pretty mundane to you now, but something still felt too calm. Like that moment in movies right before the murderer attacks. Calm down, everything's fine. You told yourself, taking a deep breath or two to try and wait for the wave of paranoia to ebb. One of the neighbors probably just has some sort of guest over. Or maybe some strong nen user passed by, I'm sure it has a reasonable explanation. You continued to reassure yourself, but the feeling didn't pass. Some voice inside of you just kept screaming about something being way too off, maybe it was your survival instincts, maybe it was simply your paranoia acting up, either way you decided to trust your gut. So, you compromised with yourself. You gathered your bags and unlocked your apartment to place them in, ensuring they'd be safe when you returned tomorrow, than you made your way back down to the foyer as swiftly as you could manage while heavily pregnant.

         "Are you alright, miss?" A man suddenly asked, making you yelp, but when you looked over, it was just some dark haired man with a cross-shaped tattoo of sorts on his forehead sitting at the guard's seat. You'd never seen him before, but you tried your best to not be impolite. At worst, he was some sort of spy for Illumi, but if he wasn't and he was just one of the many sketchy guards that worked for the apartment building, you still didn't want to offend him. So, you laughed a bit, clasping your hands over your stomach to hide how badly you were shaking,         "Yeah, I'm fine. I just realized I'd forgotten something in my car, don't want it stolen." you said in a shakey but kind voice, which made the man snort a bit,        "Would you like me to go out there for it? I promise not to steal anything," he offered, his grey eyes sparkling with mischief while he was oddly amused by his own words, but you shook your head, brushing any stray strands of (h/l), (h/c) hair from your face as you spoke,         "No thank you, but I a-appreciate your offer." with that, you made a beeline for the door, swiftly stepping outside and taking a deep breath of the fresh spring air. All at once, your anxiety began to wane, which you were immensely thankful for. Slowly, you let out a breath and waddled over to your car, ignoring the pinching cramping sensation that had plagued you for about a week now and just deciding to sit outside in your car for a while and maybe sleep there for the night since the upstairs of your building felt so weird. However, when you got to the vehicle, you pulled at the handle and nothing happened. When you tried a second time, the same thing happened, the door didn't budge. To make thing worse, you couldn't seem to find your keys when you checked your pockets.          "Of course, it'd be just my luck that I'd lose my damned keys and lock myself out of my car." you muttered, leaning against the car and resting your head against the window, trying your best to think up a second alternative to going back inside when you heard it. The single voice you wanted to never hear again,        "I must admit, you're a lot more resilient than I first thought." Illumi hummed, and before you could even think to react, he trapped you against the car, slamming his hands into the window so hard you heard it begin to crack. You shrieked and pressed your back against the car, less scared of getting cut on the glass than you were of Illumi, but instead of getting killed with his aura, or manhandled into some unmarked van, or hell, even being yelled at like you'd expected, you simply felt him brush a stray tear you didn't realize you'd shed from your (s/c) cheek, and when he did speak, he was as calm and unreadable as ever,          "You had me highly worried these past few months," he said, pushing himself off of your car and looking you over, keeping one of his hands on you in some fashion the whole time, just in case you tried to bolt or fight him off, but you never did, you'd frozen in a mix of terror, defeat, and a dizzying sense of warped relief that nearly made you nauseous. "Now, you're coming home and we are going to have a nice, calm, talk about your mistake and how you can fix it." he said, grabbing you by the wrist to lead you away. However, when his words finally sunk in, you were filled with another sense of frantic determination, refusing to move as best you could while your (e/c) eyes welled with tears again, though that was more from the pain of Illumi tightening his grip on your poor captive wrist when you resisted.           "No!" It came out a lot more forceful than you expected, "No! I don't want to go back a-and subject any child to whatever torture created you!" Finally, it was your words that earned a pause, and when you looked up to his face you saw a mixture of hurt, annoyance, and a shred of understanding flit across his doll-like facial feature ever so slightly.          "(y/n), you need to calm down. You're growing hysterical and you're going to hurt yourself trying to fight me. Just relax and come home." He ordered, but you shook your head and continued to resist as best you could, which thankfully worked since the assassin didn't want to purposely hurt you         "No! Just let me go, please! K-kill me if you must, but I don't want to go back!" you cried, and in a frantic attempt to get away, you pulled at your wrist as hard as you could, and by sheer luck, actually slipped through Illumi's grip. Sadly, your luck was spent with that last trick, so your attempts to get into the apartment building and maybe get help from the guard were quickly thwarted. Some part of you thought that maybe you could get away from Illumi Zoldyck again, but failed to realize he was a lot faster than you, even if you weren't about-to-burst pregnant. In a hope-crushing flash, he'd grabbed you again, wrapping his arms around your torso to yank you back against him and holding you there with one arm while his free hand captured your wrists to stop you from frantically flailing.             "(y/n), if you do not calm down right now, I will get the doctor to use sedatives on you." he warned, his voice low and dripping with foreboding, which, if you had any fight left in you, washed it away like he had the first day of your escape. However, you'd gone still for another reason.              "I-Illumi, let me go," you squeaked, your heart pounding so hard you didn't think you'd be able to hear his reply,              "Absolutely not." He then tried to lift you up a bit so he could move you, but you wriggled              "No! P-please listen, Illumi!" You plead, "I-I think my water just broke!"

[moonbeambucky]

Hey Neighbor (Part 4)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 2652 Warnings: none

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: A huge thank you to my wonderful beta Sam @buckyofthemyscira​ Feedback is always appreciated!

PART 3 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

The past few days have been exactly what you wanted a month ago, peacefully silent, yet somehow it doesn’t feel right. You were able to finish your paper in record time, fully concentrating on your work but part of you missed the incessant music from next door.

There was an odd comfort knowing Bucky was home playing, and with the knowledge of his musical talent you now wanted to hear what he would come up with. Getting to know him briefly was… well, it was something. It could have gone a lot better if you didn’t stick your foot in your mouth.

Bringing up the music related noise was one thing but how you ever managed to bring up the noise of his “nighttime activities” made you wish you could have vanished into thin air, never to be seen again. You had done your best to avoid Bucky ever since, rushing out of or into your apartment as quickly as possible. You weren’t sure how you could ever face him again but you couldn’t deny that a small part wanted to.

Facing your shared wall you imagined where Bucky might be, picturing him on his couch, lounging across the cushions of the soft leather as he leisurely plucks away at the guitar strings, sounding out a melody. Or was he more focused, sitting upright and gliding his dexterous fingers across his keyboard? Was he at his computer editing his melodies? Was he thinking of you?

The silence was deafening. With your palm pressed against the wall you began to lean in with your ear, hoping you could hear anything. With a slight gasp you jumped back, there was noise but not any coming from next door. Your phone buzzed against the coffee table, with Steve’s face illuminating the screen.

“Hey Steve!”

“Guess who I saw going into Sweetgreen?” The strain in his voice clued you in to the right guess, Lillian. “Yup, and she wasn’t alone … yeah she’s still with Jason, for now,” he muttered under his breath, expecting her to cheat again.

“I’m sorry Steve. You know you deserve better than her, right? I know you know this.”

Steve sighed heavily. Even though he knew what you were saying was right, seeing his ex still hurt a lot.

“Thanks Y/N, I do know that, doesn’t mean I’m going to torture myself though and go in there so is it cool if I pick us up something else? I’m in the mood for carbs.”

Chuckling at Steve’s admission you couldn’t help but agree, salads were great and all but all this Bucky stress you’ve put on yourself definitely makes you crave heavier foods.

“Tacos?”

“Mmmm, yes tacos! Extra guac please Rogers!”

You set your table in preparation for Steve to come over with food, remembering to throw your wallet on the table to give him money. The last time he came over you had forgotten, being so caught up in reliving the terrible memory of your interaction with Bucky. Steve might have been right, if he handled talking to Bucky maybe you wouldn’t be so worried about running into him.

“Sam tells me you guys spoke,” Steve said, digging a tortilla chip into the container of guacamole.

You chewed quickly to swallow the bite you had taken. “Why do you always ask me a question mid-chew?” you joked. “But yes, we did speak and…” your voice lifted with anticipation as Steve’s eyes widened, waiting for you to continue. “He gave me the number for Elena Rodriguez. She’s head of the social work department and…”

“Oh my god Y/N please just tell me!” Steve begged.

“I set up an interview with her next week!”

Steve’s eyes crinkled with his excited smile though it faded shortly after as you nervously mused about fitting the internship into your schedule.

“One step at a time,” Steve offered with a small laugh.

He’s right. One step at a time. You didn’t even go on the interview yet, you might not even be hired for it; the thought of which worries you even more, but you remind yourself to breathe and take things as they come.

The elevator ascends slowly, filled with your eager coworkers looking to join the rush home. As it lets off on the ground floor, everyone dashes to the heavy glass doors as you leisurely stroll to the security desk.

Mr. Lee had a big smile on his face as he seemed to be in the middle of telling Steve a story. Slowly you approached the desk, seeing Steve smiling down at something in his hands.

“That’s what I said but Howard was ahead of his time. A comic book movie…” Mr. Lee chuckled. “It didn’t work in ’47 but it sure would be a hit now.”

“Oh, what’s this?” you asked.

Steve held up a sealed copy of a comic book, Kid Colt, which you were unfamiliar with.

Leaning over the desk towards you Mr. Lee spoke, “Tony found that for me in his father’s things. That’s how Howard and I met. He wanted to make a movie outta this. Stark Pictures. He never did though, the whole thing became a big tax write off.”

“I didn’t know you knew Howard Stark.”

“Oh yeah,” Mr. Lee boasted humbly, “Since I was seventeen. He was a good man. You know he was so proud to finally be a father. He worked a lot, probably more than he should have but he had Maria and the nannies bring little Tony over to the office. Tony Stank I’d call him. Oh boy, you could smell those diapers from a mile away it was so bad.”

Hearing Mr. Lee talk about the head of your company so freely like this made you laugh. It also made Tony Stark seem a bit more human. As far as you knew he was a workaholic who may or may not be seeing Pepper Potts. You’ve caught the way she looks at him though, with an extra twinkle in her eye or how she hesitates for the smallest moment to gather herself before going into his office.

“Tony Stank, that’s amazing,” you laughed, wondering if Pepper has ever heard this story before. “Well, have a good night Mr. Lee!”

Steve came around to the front of the desk standing tall, filling out his blue uniform with his broad stature. It was unfair how he could pig out on food with you and not show any sign of it. Meanwhile, your stomach has been rumbling all day from last night’s dinner.

“I’m on the late shift today,” he frowned.

“Poor Stevie,” you joked, wiping an imaginary tear from your eye. “Not that my night will be any better, I’ve got a shit ton of laundry to do.”

“Enjoy the sweaty laundromat then.”

“Oh I will,” you said sarcastically.

The steady hum of the running washing machines drowned out the sound of the newscast coming from a small TV mounted on the wall. It’s muggier inside than out, and even with the door open you can’t escape the permeating smell of cheap soap and mildew.

The wash cycle is nearly over so you move from the metal chair you had been uncomfortably sitting on, listening to music to pass the time, and lazily stroll over to the machine that is spinning your clothes. Quarters jingle in your pocket as you walk, ready to be placed in the dryer as you wait some more. You hate laundry day.

It’s crowded too, with all the chairs taken and other people leaning against the wall. A few kids were running around screaming, not helping their tired mother who looked too exhausted to even reprimand them as she folded all their clothes.

No one looked happy to be there, not even the attendants who had to apologize to the screaming man who didn’t understand why he couldn’t use one of their reserved machines. It was a cut throat world on laundry night, with other patrons fighting to stake claim for the next free machine.

A loud buzz lets you know your clothes are done, you wheel a basket over and open the door. The shadow of the clearly impatient person waiting for your machine blocks the dull light from the fluorescents above so you hope to grab everything quickly without dropping anything on the dirty linoleum floor.

“It’s all yours– oh.” Your mouth hung open, not expecting to see Bucky standing beside you. “H-hey.”

“Hey Y/N. Didn’t want to startle you,” he sheepishly said. “Uhmmm, is this free?” Bucky gestured to the obviously open machine.

You nodded quickly. Not knowing what else to say you stared awkwardly at the basket of damp clothes and said, “I’m gonna dry these.” Smooth.

Turning around you let out a deep breath and worried over what would happen next. It would be extremely rude to ignore Bucky and continue to listen to music. He hasn’t done anything wrong to you, not this week at least, but you were too scared to risk saying something stupid, again.

It would take at least a half hour for your clothes to dry so you put on a brave face and decided to walk back towards Bucky. Dressed in casual black shorts and a white t-shirt, his smooth, toned arms were crossed over his chest as he leaned against a support column, squinting to read the poorly transcribed closed captioning on the TV.

“Hey neighbor,” you said, offering a small friendly wave as he turned his head.

Bucky smiled, standing upright as he turned to face you completely to greet you back. He looked genuinely happy to see you, which made you feel even worse for how you left things.

“I’m sorry if I made things weird the other day. I didn’t mean to,” you blurted out before your brain gave any thought to see if this was a good idea.

Bucky chewed on his bottom lip, the gaze of his ocean blue eyes staring right through you. “Don’t worry about it,” he said with a cavalier air.

“So how’s the music coming along?” You were truly curious, having not heard any sound.

“It’s not bothering you, right?” Bucky winked.

“No, not at all,” you smiled softly. “Are you still working on that one piece?”

Bucky asked which one and you hummed the tune. Closing your eyes you missed the way his own lit up in delight hearing you repeat his melody.

“I know I complained about the noise but honestly it was so beautiful,” your voice lightened and he felt the weight of emotion even through the simple way you described it. “Maybe that’s why I couldn’t focus.”

Bucky adjusted his weight, needing to ground himself after your words made him feel as light as air. His music meant so much to him, working tirelessly to bring to life the sound he envisioned in his mind, to know that the unfinished piece had such an effect already made his heart swell with pride.

He developed his music like a chef crafting a recipe. Each instrument was a different ingredient, carefully selected notes were gathered on the counter, waiting to come together in a symphonic skillet. The flavors of music combine, heating up together the piano is covered in the spice of an electric guitar, with the drumming rhythm simmering beneath the surface as the sound of strings are poured generously over the top.

In the end the dish is a delicious feast for the ears but here you were, happily devouring the unfinished ingredient in its raw form.

“Yeah…” his voice came out breathless. Catching himself Bucky cleared his throat. “It’s actually for an upcoming video game. I can’t say which, but it’s part of an emotional scene when the main character finds his family is gone.”

“I can sense the depth of it.”

“That’s not even the best part,” he explained as his face grew with a wide smile. Bucky became lost in describing the emotion of the violins that would come in. “They’re the voice of the character and when he’s lost everything I have them coming in, crying out in pain. It’s sharp and strong, and beautifully tragic.”

Listening to Bucky describe his music resonated in your soul. You saw the complete love and passion he had for it and once again you felt terrible about asking him to stop.

“I’d love to hear it, if that’s okay.”

You looked at him with hopeful eyes, and Bucky smiled, nodding before he spoke his answer. He couldn’t wait for you to hear everything together.

You passed the time by getting to know each other a little more. Bucky has a younger sibling named Rebecca who moved west to work as an avian veterinarian in a bird sanctuary.

“My parents are lost without them around,” Bucky joked. “Do you know how hard it is to try to explain how to use Skype to them over the phone?”

“Oh believe me, I know. Somehow my mom always calls at the worst time to have me explain the most basic function on her phone that she already knows because we’ve gone over it a million times but…” You threw your hands up as Bucky joined in with your laughter.

When your clothes were dry Bucky gave you some space to fold them alone which you appreciated, not wanting to showcase your intimate items in front of him. He was still a stranger, sort of, but you were glad you were getting to know him.

Checking the time you realized it was on the late side and you still needed to shower before bed. Your clothes were packed neatly into a laundry bag, well most of them were at least. One sock managed to get eaten by the dryer to your dismay, and you hoped its pair was somewhere on your floor having fallen out as you prepped the laundry.

Slinging the bag over your shoulder, you gripped the bottle of detergent with your other hand and walked towards Bucky.

“Hey,” you called out to Bucky who lifted his head from his phone. “I’ve got a few things to do tonight still so can I take a rain check on hearing your music?”

“Yeah, of course.” Bucky did his best to mask his disappointment but he understood. He noticed the slump of your shoulders, balancing the laundry bag high on one side and letting your other limb hang low with the weight of the heavy bottle.

“Do you want me to carry that back?” he asked.

“Oh, no it’s okay, I can manage.”

The apartment was only two blocks away, two long blocks but still, you didn’t want to inconvenience Bucky even though judging by the curve of his biceps it wouldn’t be a problem.

Bucky walked with you to the front of the laundromat as you smiled and said goodnight.

“Goodnight Y/N,” he whispered, watching as you walked down the sidewalk until he could no longer see you in the crowd.

The words stayed on his lips like they were always meant to be there and Bucky has a brief flash of a life he’s never thought about.

A warm bed, made even warmer by the figure curled against him. His breath syncs with theirs and he’s at peace. His heart beats to the rhythm of love and his lips purse together to plant a soft lingering kiss on their forehead. A smile secures itself on his face because he’s truly happy; surrounded by the comforting feeling knowing that when he wakes up that person, his love, will be by his side.

The machine buzzes at the end of its cycle dragging Bucky back to a reality that has him gasping for breath. He steps outside for a minute for air, needing to clear his mind of the vision that seemed so real it scared him; for better or worse he can’t quite say.

PART 5

[smileyjaeminies]

To make an escape

Synopsis: All it takes for Taeyong to snap, is you getting hurt. Will you find a way to finally walk away from your dangerous lifestyle?

Word Count: 5.3 k

Genre: mafia au

Warnings: mentions of blood, fighting, shooting, major character death

Member: Taeyong ft various other nct members

A/N: Happy Halloween! I tried to do something special for the occasion, so here goes! It’s my first try at writing something a bit more intense, so I hope you guys like it!!

  The first thing you knew, was pain. Intense, unbearable, all-consuming. It drove you mad, it numbed your brain and all your senses. And it was everywhere. You couldn’t even begin to locate where it began, for it had spread all over your body, leaving you limp and hopeless.

  Your ears were ringing, your head was heavy. If you could form a coherent thought it would have been one simple word: why? Why all the pain? In the midst of it all, you realized there were voices screaming over you. The ringing in your ears didn’t allow you to tell them apart, but you managed to tear your eyes open. Your vision was blurry, and you could only make out the form of a man hovering over you.

  He placed some pressure on your wound and you screamed out, even though you thought you couldn’t. He spared one glance at you, focusing on his task. Could it be Taeyong? No. Tae would never hurt you. He wouldn’t make you hurt like this.

  Taeyong would kiss you and make the world disappear. He’d cage you in his arms and keep you safe. He’d always have your back and he would always make sure you were okay. Funny isn’t it? How the only sane thoughts in midst of your torture would be about Taeyong? Then again, he was always the only thing that made sense.

  When they tried to lift you, you mercifully dipped back into oblivion. You gained consciousness what felt like mere seconds later, to the pain having subsided the tiniest bit. It wasn’t blinding, but it felt like it would swallow you whole in mere minutes. All you could hope, was for it to go away.

  Your eyes opened and you found Doyoung standing over you. You wanted to smile. If Doyoung was there, everything would be alright. He’d fix you right up. Right?

  “Taeyong I… I don’t know. I don’t know if I can do this. If it’s hit a vital organ-” he said.

  “Well try, god dammit! Does it look like we have a choice?” Taeyong screamed.

  His voice echoed through the small room, and if you could flinch, you would have. Darkness was lurking close, too close for it not to be tempting. Your eyes fluttered closed and you let yourself float.

  The last time you pried your eyes open, it was with much effort. The pain wasn’t gone like you hoped. Like some kind of sick joke, it stayed there, a heavy thing laying over your stomach. Your eyelids were heavy too, the mere act of opening your eyes becoming a struggle.

  The lights blinded you at first, but you got used to it with a few blinks. Your head fell to the side, where Doyoung was sitting, with his head in his hands. He had drawn up a chair to sit close to you, and with a simple move, your hand would be on his head.

  But that mere action seemed impossible. You were parched, your mouth completely dry. Your head was spinning a little and you almost felt nauseous. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down and compose yourself.

  Doyoung looked up, his eyes meeting yours, and you couldn’t help but smile. His eyes widened and he shot up from his seat, making his chair fall behind him. The loud noise made your eyes close tightly as Doyoung checked your vitals. Finally content with your state, he sat next to you on the bed, his eyes scanning your face.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  “I’m a little thirsty” you replied.

  Doyoung nodded, quickly helping you drink some water. You tried to use the water to ground yourself. You didn’t want to go back to sleep just yet.

  “You’re going to be fine. The bullet didn’t hit any vital organs. I was able to go around…” Doyoung went on, explaining the procedure to you.

  You waited for him to finish, using all the patience you had left. When you made sure he was done, you spoke up.

  “Is he… Is he here?” you asked, testing the waters.

  Doyoung avoided your gaze. He seemed to think carefully before answering,

  “He’s upstairs. Locked in his office. I told him your surgery went well and even then, he didn’t come out”

  Classic Taeyong. That was the answer you were expecting. And yet, you couldn’t help but hope…

  “Y/N… What happened?” Doyoung asked you.

  A kaleidoscope of images flashed before your eyes. The hitman, you running behind him. Glass breaking, shots firing everywhere around you. And then the pain. You tried to shake the images away, bring yourself back to the small room with Doyoung.

  “I… It wasn’t as easy as we thought. Did he get away?” you asked.

  Doyoung shook his head and a sigh of relief escaped from your lips. You wouldn’t be able to bear it if you had failed this miserably.

  “He’s downstairs with Yuta. You know how it is” he told you.

  You did know. You knew Yuta, the sweet-smiled boy who turned ballistic every time someone came for one of your family. It was almost heartwarming, the lengths he’d go to protect one of his own. But there was nothing heartwarming at Yuta’s work.

  You buried the thought somewhere far away in your brain. There would be time to think about that later.

  “How long? How long do I have to stay like this?” you asked the man.

  “A couple of days. A week… I don’t know. I can’t say for certain” he answered you.

  A week. Okay. You’d manage a week in bed. It wouldn’t drive you mad, no, you wouldn’t allow it to. You could do this.

  “Doyoung. I want to see him” you said.

  Doyoung’s eyes peered into yours and you tried to answer his stare with as much determination as you could manage. Your heart went out to the man, a man you loved and cared for. Despite the harshness of your jobs, you and Doyoung were as close as your situation allowed you to be, and that was something remarkable in itself.

  “I’ll go get him. But Y/N…” he was saying when you cut him off.

  “I know. ‘Don’t let him get to you.’ I won’t.” you reassured him.

  Doyoung gave you a half smile. If you were better, you would have given him a loving shove. But you weren’t. He gave a small squeeze at your hands before getting up and walking towards the door. Halfway there he stopped in his tracks, turning around quickly as if he had remembered something.

  “There’s another thing. Ten… He’s outside. He hasn’t left since they brought you here… He’s in every way not okay. Should I..?” he let his voice trail off.

  Your partner, Ten. Ten, who was supposed to have your back. Ten, with whom you were the most fun team. Ten, who had seen you kill, who had helped you exploit weak men’s sexual desires, who you had killed with, who you trusted.

  Ten, who hadn’t covered for you. Ten, who wasn’t there to see you fall. Ten, who was the reason you were on this bed. Ten.

  “Tell him to come inside” you said.

   Doyoung nodded, resuming his way towards the door. It took only a few moments for the door to open again, this time to reveal Ten. With one glance, only a few people would have guessed how distressed the man was. Luckily, you were one of those people.

  His hair was a mess, not styled in perfection as usual but messy, as if he had let them dry on their own. There was a cut right under his eye and though you could tell it wasn’t deep, the injury was enough to distress you. He was dressed in simple jeans and a black T-shirt and as he walked towards you, you knew something was terribly wrong.

  His eyes were trained to the ground as he came to stand on the foot of the bed you were laying on. You could tell that looking up to you was a struggle for the man and when his eyes met yours you knew, you didn’t have it in you to be mad.

  If a look could speak, Ten would be apologizing a hundred times over. There was nothing of the playful glint you knew, only seriousness and regret.

  “I’m so sorry” he apologized.

  “I know, Ten. I know” you told him.

  “I should’ve been there. But at the club- I saw the pimp Jaehyun was out for last month and I couldn’t help myself. I got distracted when I should’ve been there for you. I’m sorry” he tried to explain.

  The pimp… You thought he’d left town…. The new information made you dizzy, your mind screaming at you to take it easy. You closed your eyes, falling back to the pillows behind you.

  “Did you get him?” you asked in a low voice, eyes peering open just a little.

  Ten couldn’t hide his smile. He was clearly proud of himself and though the sadistic smile should’ve made you anxious, it only made you glad.

  “You know I did” Ten stated simply.

  You nodded at his words, because you did know. Ten had a perfect record, was the perfect killer and it was exactly the reason you worked so well together.

  “Next time, you’re going to be lying here. Or 6 feet under.” You warned.

  You expected Ten’s smile, but you didn’t expect how at ease it helped you feel.

  “I’m never leaving you behind. Never again.” He promised.

  “You better” you warned once again.

  You had to fight the pout that threatened to appear on your face, but you hid it well. Ten was about to say something when the door burst open to reveal Taeyong.

  “Well isn’t this charming?” he asked, feigning a sweet tone.

  “Taeyong…” you said, his name falling effortlessly from your lips.

  He didn’t even look at you, he barely had as he walked into the room. You could see Doyoung hovering at the door, but even he couldn’t help you now.

  “Don’t.” he snapped at you, still not giving you even a single look. “You, out.” He ordered, pointing at Ten and then at the door.

  Ten shot you a shaky smile before quietly following the older man’s instructions and disappearing behind the closed door. You took a deep breath, bracing yourself for what was to follow.

 The outburst you were expecting never came. Taeyong took a few calculated strides and buried himself in the armchair next to your bed. He ran his hands over his face and his hair, clearly distraught. You wanted nothing more than to put your arms around him.

  You raked your brain for words, for something to say to him. Only a few minutes before you had wanted nothing more than to see him and be with him, and now he was here…

  “We could do it you know” he spoke up first.

  His eyes were trained on the wall opposite him, an empty look on his face, but it was the tone of his voice that startled you. It was small, almost a whisper and he sounded… Tired. And defeated.

  “Do what?” you asked.

  “Run away” he stated simply.

  He said it as if it was the easiest thing in the world. As if you could just walk out of the door the next minute and that would be all. As if you had a choice.

  “You know we can’t” you answered him.

  “That’s not true. You and I? We could do anything. Even walk out of this right now. We could find a small, secluded cottage. We could make a life there. A peaceful life. Just you and I” he said.

  He was serious when he said it, so serious it almost scared you. And the worst thing was, you had thought about this too. Hell, you had even dreamed about it. Leading a peaceful life with Taeyong, somewhere away from the mess you were in, away from this cursed city.

  But that’s all it would be. A dream. A peaceful life was not meant for people like you and Taeyong.

  “You know we can’t.” you repeated.

  At that moment, Taeyong finally turned to look at you. You braced yourself for the weight of his stare, staying completely still as his eyes scanned your body. His eyes found yours again, only to stare at you intensely, his eyes peering in to yours. As much as you were tired, you knew you couldn’t bear to miss this. So you stared right back, with whatever you could manage in your state. You tried to show him that there was nothing you wanted more than to run away with him. But you were running out of time.

  He looked away first, and you sighed, your eyes closing and your body relaxing against your pillows. You could only hope he understood.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  You scoffed, biting your bottom lip as you weighed your answer in your head.

  “Well I’m not dead. And the asshole is with Yuta. So I’d say I’m good. I’m not looking forward to a week in bed though.” You told him, your gaze trained at your fingers.

  “A week? Only a week? I don’t think I’ll be giving you missions for at least a month” he said.

  Your head shot up, to find Taeyong already staring at you. Your head started throbbing, but there was no time to take care of it.

  “A month? What about Ten? And what am I supposed to do for a month? You can’t-” you were saying, when his loud voice cut through yours.

  “I can and I will. Remember who is in charge here, Y/N” he warned, getting up from his seat.

  “As if I could ever forget.” You spat at him.

  Silence reigned over the room as you took a few breaths to calm yourself. Before Taeyong could say anything, you spoke up,

  “I think I’m going to go back to sleep now. Please leave”

  You couldn’t bear to look at him as you asked him to leave, the thought of shoving him away more painful than any other. He wordlessly collected himself before moving to stand next to you on the bed.

  “Move over” he asked.

  You knew what was happening, and you let it happen. Because after all, you didn’t really want him to go away. So you scooted over and Taeyong pulled his shoes off, lying next to you on the small bed.

  “Hi” he murmured against your hair.

  You only hummed in response, feeling the headache forming under your skull. Laying your head against his chest, you felt his erratic heartbeat underneath the light fabric of his shirt.

  “Your heart’s beating so fast” you said in a low voice, careful not to shatter the ambiance of the room.

  “It always does when I’m with you. Don’t you know that?” he asked.

  You left his question unanswered, opting to simply close your eyes.

  It felt so right. Laying there with him, his arms around you, protecting you from harm. His breath against your hair, the rhythmic movement of his chest, his heartbreak under your ear. So why was it that you always fought? Why was it that it hurt?

  “I can’t stand seeing you hurt.” he stated simply.

  “I know. Because I feel the same way too” you told him.

   “I almost killed Ten. Did he tell you that? I gave him that scar on his face” he confessed.

   You sat up, turning to face him.

   “You hit one of your own? Taeyong…” you let your voice trail off.

   “You don’t know what it’s like. To see you lied down like that… And the blood… And then Doyoung said he didn’t know if he… I lost it Y/N. I know it’s wrong but… I don’t think I could ever live without you.” He confessed.

  You looked at him, the man who held your heart in his hands, who had all the responsibilities in the world, who made hard decisions without looking back. The man who crumbled in front of you, who stripped himself of his walls for you, who gave you his heart to hold.

  There was nothing to be said. Nothing you could say to turn back time or ease his pain. So you did the only thing that felt right and connected your lips to his.

  His breath caught at his throat, his hands cupping your face instinctively. You kissed him with everything you had, pouring out your love into the kiss as he did the same, your mouths moving together.

  He broke the kiss, connecting your foreheads and trying to catch his breath. You left a trail of kisses across his jaw and neck nestling your head there and breathing him in.

  A sudden laugh broke out from you, which made him give you a questioning look.

  “It’s nothing just… I never took you for a cottage core kind of guy.” You said, erupting in another fit of giggles.

  “Oh shut up” Taeyong said, squeezing your body tighter against his.

  “Tae, no, it hurts” you whined.

  Taeyong immediately rushed to apologize, sitting up to make sure you’re okay. You wanted to giggle despite everything, watching his distressed state too endearing.

  “I’m alright. I just need some sleep” you told him.

  “Then I should probably go” Taeyong said.

  Just like that, the switch had been flipped. The sweet and loving Taeyong, your Taeyong, was to move over, be replaced by the sure and unyielding mafia leader the world- well, your world knew. You’d lost him.

  “Why?” you asked.

  “I need to go downstairs to see what Yuta is up to and you need to rest properly” he told you as he pulled his shoes on.

  “Okay” you agreed.

  So that was it. You had run out of time. Taeyong had to go back to leading and you had to remain here, stuck, alone and in pain. There was no use fighting and if you were being completely honest, you didn’t have it in you to fight. You had no strength to pull him back and tell him to stay.

  Taeyong placed a kiss on the top of your head and helped you settle in your bed. You watched him walk out of the door, a bitter taste left in your mouth. Even though you thought you had settled in, it took a lot of tossing and turning before your eyelids got too heavy and sleep claimed you once more.

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

  The week in bed passed uneventfully with no one but Doyoung fretting over you. Even Ten was too busy with his assignments to keep you company and none of the others cared enough to come to visit. Taeyong would stop by as often as he could manage and you would have to pretend like everything was normal, push away the dark thoughts that were plaguing you.

  Because, the truth was, what Taeyong told you the day you woke up had shaken you to the core. The worst thing was, it was true. No one else in your little ‘family’ would be able to just walk out without a target on their backs. Maybe Yuta could manage to get out of the country, but not much further. No, only you and Tae could just leave and get away with it.

  And the more you thought about it, the more the idea seemed more and more alluring. Dropping everything here to get out, get away from this life, re-invent yourself, start over.

  The question was, could you bear it? Would you be able to live a life stripped of the adrenaline, the discipline, the work, the killing? That unanswered query was the only thing holding you back. The only question left to answer before you made your escape.

  Even from Taeyong? A small voice in the back of your head asked. Your eyes searched for the man in question almost in their own accord, finding the mere back of his head. He had resumed the seat next to your bed and you could see his leg moving up and down nervously. His eyes were trained on the TV, a nameless reporter talking of a shooting that took place the previous night. A shooting he had arranged, planned and executed. If it weren’t for his leg, you wouldn’t be able to note no other sign of distraught in the man.

  “The investigations will continue on this matter and we hope that justice can be served soon. Back to you, Kathy” the reporter finished.

  The screen turned dark with the click of a button as Taeyong ran a hand through his hair.

  “Justice? That was justice you idiots!” he screamed. “I gave him justice when I pulled that trigger. But of course they don’t care about that. They don’t care about what he did”

  “Tae… Calm down” you said carefully.

  He was fragile, like a piece of porcelain. One wrong move and he’d be shattering on the tile floor. So you treaded carefully, your words soft and pleading, until the outburst passed and he became the man you knew, loved and trusted.

  “They don’t understand. They never do. Things work different for us, don’t they get it?” he said, throwing himself on the foot of your bed.

  “They don’t. And they never will. Because as you said, the world works differently for them. All you can do, is what you’ve always done. Do things your own way, and pray to whoever’s listening that it’s the right way” you said.

  “And what if it isn’t?” he whispered.

  “Then we pay. All of us” you answered.

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

  Weeks passed, only helping your choice become clearer. It was time to go. It would be hard to travel with a wound like yours and you trusted no one but Doyoung to treat it. So you waited until you were fully healed, slowly and quietly making preparations.

  You knew you couldn’t say good bye to any of them. Not with a letter or with a simple note. Then again, most of you knew that with each mission there was the risk of not coming back, so you hoped that your departure would be a little bit like that. A small taste of death.

  Everything had to look simple, as if they were done on a whim. If Taeyong got even the smallest inkling that you had betrayed him, there would be nowhere for you to hide. Your clothes had to be left behind, for you would have to lay low and travel lightly for a while. You packed only the most essential of items, the ones that meant something.

  Your laptop and phone where to be left behind too. You placed them neatly on the desk in your room. The note you left was simple and short. Two words that would prove to be enough.

  “I’m sorry”

  You placed your bags higher up on your shoulder. A sigh left your lips as you pondered your decision once more. Even here, at the nick of time, you were unsure. Could you really just get away from this?

  Yes. You do. You have to. The voice inside you told you. So you did. The door of your small apartment closed behind you, as your mind came to terms with the thought of never seeing it again.

  What a fool you were.

  “You really thought it would be that simple?” a familiar voice asked behind you.

  Cold sweat ran through your body, your breath hitching at your throat. You didn’t dare move and even if you wanted to, you were unsure you could. Your feet were stuck in place, the only movement you managed the small shake of your hands.

  You could feel the cold metal of your gun on your back. It would take only a move for you to take it in your hands, load it and shoot. But could you do it?

  While you were pondering your fate, the man came to stand behind you. He disarmed you easily and you didn’t fight it, only stood frozen as he whispered in your ear.

  “Nervous now, are we? You know, he didn’t want to believe what I was telling him. He could never believe that you would abandon him. But I knew. I could always read you like an open book. Isn’t that right?” Jaehyun asked.

  But how? How could he ever know? You had been so careful, not to make a single misstep.

  “How did you…” you croaked out the words, your throat becoming dry.

  “Oh I knew from the minute you were shot. After all, this was all a test. Why did you think Taeyong told you you should run away together? I convinced him to test you. And would you look at that… I was right. Again” Jaehyun said.

  “Jaehyun…” you began.

  His laugh and the shake of his head made you stop, the words dying at your lips. So that was it, huh?

  “Don’t bother. They’re waiting for us at headquarters.” Jaehyun announced.

  You gulped, breathing becoming increasingly more difficult. Jaehyun got tired of your stalling, dragging you to the elevator. It was not a pretty sight.

  He threw you inside his car and you didn’t bother trying to make an escape. It was all lost now. The peaceful life you thought was only a few steps away, was now completely and utterly lost.

  Jaehyun drove in silence, but at a crazy speed. You couldn’t help but think about opening the door and throwing yourself at the concrete. It would be a much better way to go.

  However, you lost your chance, the car quickly coming into a stop inside the underground parking lot of the headquarters. Now, there was really nowhere for you to go. You knew your fate and you walked right into it.

  Jaehyun opened a door on the third floor, to reveal the rest of your little family. Everyone was there, Taeyong and Doyoung in one corner, someone half hiding behind them. Yuta was lying on the couch next to Ten, waiting for the show to begin. Jungwoo, your ‘man in the desk’ was standing in the back, his arms crossed in front of him. Your family.

   In the center of the room, there was a chair. You sat on it willingly, even placing your hands behind you so Jaehyun could handcuff you. You knew the drill. It had been done before.

   You didn’t know where to look, so you just looked down, your hair falling to frame your face. You heard Doyoung whisper something, to which Taeyong simply scoffed. You raised your head, hoping to catch a glimpse of the person hiding behind the two men, but his back was turned to you.

  “Let’s get this over with, shall we? I’m bored” Yuta spoke up.

  Everyone’s heads turned to his direction, which finally gave you the chance to see your mystery guest. As your eyes took in his side profile, your heart dropped in your chest. What was he doing in here?

  “Mark…” your lips formed his name in nothing but a whisper.

  Everyone was too busy arguing with Yuta to hear you. All but one. Jaehyun, who was still standing behind you, bend down to whisper in your ear.

  “Oh that? Also a little gift from me. We couldn’t just miss a member like that… You know how this goes” Jaehyun mocked you.

  You did know. Once a member leaves, their place has to be filled. In a ceremony much like this one, you were brought into the family. And now, it was Mark’s turn.

  Mark, who brought you flowers and made you flower crowns. Mark, who still slept with a light on and was afraid of the dark. Mark, who you held in your arms when he was born and was the one person you said good bye to. Mark, whose hands shook when you told him you were leaving and that you didn’t expect to come back. Your little Markie, your baby brother.

  Their conversation had died down, but your ears were still ringing. Your hands shook behind you, the only thing you wanted at the moment was to take Mark away from this awful place, to save him. You didn’t care what happened to you, the only thought in your mind being how to turn this around.

  “Why? Why him?” you asked no one in particular.

  “Because it would hurt you the most. Because it will send a message. Because it’s just how it goes” Jaehyun answered you.

  “Jaehyun. Enough.” Doyoung stepped in.

  Jaehyun was about to argue, when Taeyong raised his hand to stop him. He took a step towards you and it took all the self-control you had to keep yourself from crying. His eyes locked with yours and you could see the fire burning in them.

  “You told me once that the day would come when all of us would pay for what we’ve done. Today is the day you pay. Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Taeyong asked.

   His voice was eerily steady. It shocked you how composed he looked, how sure. You cleared your throat, praying to anyone who was listening to keep your voice from breaking.

  “No. Nothing at all. I failed the test and now I will pay the price” you stated.

  Your eyes drifted from Taeyong’s to Mark’s. There was something about the way he was looking at you that broke your heart.

  “I’m sorry.” You said to him.

  “As you should be.” Jaehyun snapped at you. “Who wants to go first?”

  You could hear the smile in his voice. It send a shiver down your spine, one you didn’t bother to contain.

  “Mark, please” was the only thing you said.

  “There’s no going back now sis. I’ll see you on the other side” Mark said.

  As much as you wanted to keep yourself from crying, those words shook you to the core. Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision. You closed your eyes, hoping that would stop the tears from falling, but you could feel them running down your cheeks.

  “Just do it” you whispered.

  “Since no one is volunteering, I’ll go first” Jaehyun said. “Any last words?”

  Silence reigned over the room. Your eyes remained closed as you tried to choke down a sob. The first shot would be the worst one, you knew it. The gunshot echoed all around the room, making your ears ring. You cried out, for Jaehyun played dirty, shooting you right were your previous wound was.

  Jungwoo stepped up, taking the gun off Jeahyun’s hands. Wordlessly, he pointed at your shoulder, his shot shaking you, almost dropping you off your chair. You felt the darkness come over you, inching closer and closer. Yuta’s shot found the upper part of your abdomen and with it, came oblivion.

  But you weren’t dead yet. Ten’s shot was careless, shooting somewhere in your abdomen. Right after, he stormed out of the room, Jungwoo following hot on his heels. Doyoung took the gun with shaking hands, his shot missing your body. He turned to Taeyong, fearing his disappointment, his rage. But he didn’t find any.

  Taeyong was hidden away behind his cold façade, no trace of emotion on his face. He stepped up, raising his hand to wordlessly ask for the weapon. Doyoung gave it to him, before storming out of the room, not bearing to look any more.

  His hands weren’t shaking as they aimed at your heart. He couldn’t help but wonder if it was it still beating for him. He loaded the gun, his finger hovering over the trigger. Then, he thought of something.

  “Why don’t you do it?” He asked the boy that was standing next to him.

  He was like that once. Green, unskilled, a white canvas for someone to paint on. And he’d be sure to colour him black. Mark took a deep breath, glancing back and forth from the gun to his dying sister. He stepped up, taking the loaded gun into his hands and aiming.

  “Bye bye Y/N” he whispered under his breath.  

[alice-angel12x]

☁ Drider!Shouto x reader

Dystopian AU/ Monster AU

[Sorry if shouto is a bit ooc]

The world fell into ruin when the all powerful All For One took over all of japan. He took control of everything, and who ever dared defy him would face a horrible fate. Once he had control he shapped society the way he found entertaining. It's not like they could stop him. He had a large following that helped spread his rule and terror. Those who had a transmitter, or transformation quirk were safe. They were treated like people or held in higher regards. Those who had mutation quirk were called monsters and were locked away.

So All For One seperated people. Those who were safe where human. Brainwashing them into believing they were better then those monsters. Those who were Mutated were teated like wild and unpredictable animals, The monsters. They were mocked, humiliated, tortured, and locked away from the pretty cities, and only human Capitals. Some were unfortinate to be born with a mutation quirk, but some were forced to have this fate by All For One. By curing people with said quirks, some were criminals, rebels, or innocents to show his power. Those who are 'lucky' just get their quirk taken and turned into a slave.

What about those who were quirkless you ask. Well... They are slaves.

____

Just outside of the grand Capital, there was a large Dome loomed over the forest. It covered 50 miles worth of land. Inside was a forest, a river, rock hills, cliffs, and caves. Inside were the monsters. This is were they are locked away, and put into their natural habitat. Left to starve, except the occasional 'mouse' that was let inside for them to feed on. With no other food they are left with no choice. As the mouse tries to run and hide the monsters hunt it down and devour them. This hunt is recorded and broadcast all over the cities. As a sick entertainment for the rich, Powerful, and citizens. But for the quirkless slave or the mice it is a form of warning to stay in line and to know our place.

___

"Oh looks like our little mouse could not out run that pack werewolf," the commentator said with so much enthusiasm in his voice.

"Yeah John looks like he's dog food now," John's partner joked.

The slaves all watched in horror, as they watched their friend get eaten alive. The quirkiness were all in their cages and forced to catch the monitor, as a constant reminder that soon that will be their fate. To become a meal, a mouse for sent to die for entertainment.

"They ate Ochaco," a close friend of hers sobbed.

I didn't know her personaly, but she was a really nice girl. She didn't deserve to go out the way she did. I sat in my cage, trembling as I watched the carnage. Denki, Momo, Jirou, Sero, and know Ochaco.

They were all the unfortunate mice picked. I survived another month. Sadly my luck ran out the next month.

"Haha this little rat will do," said a gaurd as he opened my and quickly grabbed me.

I tried to struggle and break free from him, but something hard hit the back of my head. I blacked out.

........

"Welcome back everybody, it's that time again. Our favorite little game of survival. Today our lovely little mouse this month is Y/n L/n. A bit on the petite side, could probably squeeze tight spaces. She's a pretty face, it's sad it's wasted on a mouse. Well place your bets now folks. Who will she find herself being eaten by," John the host said with a laugh.

I opened my eyes to see that I was in a forest. It seemed go on forever, but quickly relieazed where I was. I was inside the dome.

"Jeff sound the dinner bell!" John said as the sound of the air horn filled the dome.

I ran, I didn't know where I just ran into the forest. There was no point in banging on the door. No one was going to answer. So I ran through the forest till I saw a clearing. The same clearing were Ochaco was eaten. I came to a halt right at the edge of the forest. I hesitated as flashed of Ochaco's mangled corpse appeared in my head.

Suddenly I heard growling behind me. I turned to see the pack of werewolves. The leader was a ashy blond with spiky hair and blood red eyes. I slowly started to back away, as he took a step foward.

"Sorry, nothing personal. Were just starving and everyone needs to eat," a red headed werewolf said with a sorrowful look on his face.

"Kirishima shut up! Lets just make this quick before some other monster gets her," said the leader.

"Bakugou, could you be a little more sensitive," Kirishima said bitterly.

"Yeah, well your sensitivity almost cost us last time," Bakugou shot back.

While They were arguing, I quickly made a run for it. Dying by werewolves is probably the worst way to go. I could hear them give chase once they relieazed I ran. Just beyond the open field was tall grass. I managed to loose the wolves, as I came across willow tree by a lake. I stoped their to take a break, when I heard hissing.

Looking up into the tree was a Naga. He had green hair and eyes to match his green tail. He was skinny and so malnourished he didn't have the strength to move anymore. I quickly left that spot and kept moving, till I came across some caves.

It was almost night and it started to get dark. So I went inside the cave, to learn to late that what is a hole in the ground three steps in. I fell into the darkness and blacked out.

_____

Dark and lonely. Thats what I would describe my life to be. A lonley spider in cave.

While the other people in the some wait for their next meal I'm working on making my way out of this hell hole. As I continued to dig my tunnel when I felt my webs vibrate, something fell into my webs.

I slowly made my way over to the cave entrance, surprised too see a unconscious girl tangled in my webs. She had soft silky h/c hair, and smooth s/c skin. I slowly started to inspect her entirely. As I did I found a mouse brand burned onto her skin.

Like me, a monster brand was burned on my side. I untangled her and placed her down softly on the ground. She felt So warm in my arms, I almost didn't want to let go. So I took her deep within the caves, too hide her from the monsters. But also to keep her here, with me.

___

I slowly started to wake up, as I sat up I found my self in a cave. Looking down I was laying on some sort of silk thread, or web. Actually the whole room was covered in webs. I slowly started to stand and started to rip the remaining webs on me.

Suddenly I heard something crawling. Then I saw it a Drider, though I never saw one before. He had half red and half white hair, with a big hurn on the left side of his face, all over his body he bore scars, and on the right side of his chest was the monster brand burned on his skin.

   "Umm, hello," I said as I slowly sat back down. He did block my only exit.

"Hello.... I'm suprised your not screaming, or trying to escape," he said bluntly with a neutral face.

"Well your blocking my only exit, and even if I scream no one is gonna hear me so, yeah... I'm y/n by the way," I said as I held out my hand.

"Umm, I'm shouto the Drider," he said simply slowly shaking my hand.

"So.. Umm, why did you spare me. I thought you would be hungry like the other people up there?" I said looking up at the ceiling.

"Well I have a slow matabalizem, so it takes a while for me to get hungry. I.. I was just lonely," he said with with a light blush.

"Oh... O-okay, I'd be happy to

acompany you, shouto," I said with a smile.

Shouto seemed stuned at first as he seemed to just stare at me for a bit. Suddenly it seemed his eyes began to water, then he pulled me into a tight hug. As he did he stood up to his full hight, which lifted me a few feet of the ground. I slowly and hestitanly returned his hug. His spider half looked like it was an albino verson of a black widow.

As I was studying I could hear him smelling me... It was weird but I didn't say anything. Suddenly I heard a buzzing noise.

____

I could hear them. The humans flying spies, they were looking for Y/n. Gently placing y/n down on the nest, I went to investigate.

I saw it the flying cameras. I quietly sneaking up behind it and quickly smashing it with a rock. They weren't going to take my friend away from me.

-----

As the weeks went by Y/n and Shouto got closer and closer. Y/n would help with Shouto's tunnel, and sometime shouto would go out to the surface to bring berries for y/n. She would clean up any wounds Shouto would gain.

As the weeks went on y/n became more, and more weak. The berried weren't enough to sustain her. She could even afford to move or spend any energy, or she will starve even more. So in desperation, Shouto worked on the tunnel even more. Till he finally did it, he finally tunneled his way outside the dome.

Quickly and quietly he scools y/n into his arms and escapes from this hell. Shouto travled for days, getting as far away from the city, and the dome as possible. When they finally settled down, high up in a tall tree, Shouto went out and hunted down a strong stag.

Cooking it and feeding it to y/n. As time went on y/n did regain her strength.

_____

I slowly crawled down the tree with y/n in my arms. I was so nerves, always worrying if somethi g would come and take y/n away.

We finally made it to the ground , and I let y/n down. She stood still for awhile then she started to.. Roll around on the ground with a wide a smile.

"Were free Shouto. It feels so good," she exclaimed as she jumped up and hugged me.

"Y/n... Thank you for staying with me. Even when you were close to dying. I never want to lose you, and I treasure you, Y/n," I said as is quickly pulled her into a passonite kiss.

And I was happy went she slowly melted into my kiss. This is my paradise. She is my Utopia.

[beatskylar]

A broken memory, is a knife to the heart. part 2

Part one. 

```````````````

Julia’s heart breaks at the sight of Carmen, the loving and free women she fell in love with trapped between four walls, broken and gone. Her bright grey eyes that used to display love and respect for the man in front of her, now showing agony and hatred.

Chief informed everyone in the room that due to Carmen destroying the memory restoration device when she did, that there is a 74 percent chance she will be facing a similar situation as Mr. Calloway: stuck in a limbo of sorts, remembering two different versions of her life. The line unclear to her which is a lie, but that she will choose the reality she has been living.

If Julia thought what VILE did to agent Devineaux in their brief encounter was terrible… she doesn’t want to even imagine what they put Carmen through, if and for how long they tortured her till she broke.

She should have done something: got in contact with team red sooner or set her plan in motions without chief’s approval. She is never going to forgive herself.

“Carmen, you need to rest. You should not be fighting.” Shadowsan’s voice breaks through her thoughts, calm and patient against the unrest she feels. She tries to relax and remember that she isn’t the only one watching the grainy security feed. Zack and Ivy stand by each other, neither dare utter a word as they watch their boss refuse to listen to Shadowsan.  Julia can’t help but remember when Carmen told her how the twins are balls of energy, especially Zack.

“I’m telling you Jules; I have never seen them so focused before. Three days with no sleep and yet neither of them showed any signs of exhaustion. It was like just being in the same room as each other, was keeping them constantly energized.” The two quietly laughed at the story the thief finished recalling, the time she foolishly bet against the duo that she could stay up longer than them.

“I bet there is never a dull moment when they are in the room.” Was all Julia could reply, trying to hide the blush that arose due to Carmen using the nickname, a sure-fire way to make the agent blush in an instant. She hopes the thief doesn’t notice it, but she doubts anything gets passed Carmen.

Her suspicions are confirmed when the thief smiles, the smile only reserved for her. Sincere, happy, and attentive. The same smile she always wears around her, somehow becoming brighter whenever she get Julia to blush.

Agent Devineaux and agent Zari sat quietly at the table in the middle of the room, both watching the scene unfold. Agent Zari only wanting to be in the room to see the great Carmen Sandiego and understand how ACME has been unable to successfully capture her till last night. Agent Devineaux on the other hand is clearly worried over la femme rouge, gasping when Carmen breaks free of Shadowsan’s grasp only to hit the steel sink in the middle of her back. He’s quick to hide his worry by pretending he’s gasping because he moved and irritated the injuries Carmen inflicted on him.

Julia can see through his charades. His feelings and opinion over Carmen changed ever since the two worked together to save Julia in Egypt, even before that. Chase had finally seen Carmen for who she truly was, a thief who stole from other thieves.

Then VILE happened.

“Don’t touch me, traitor!” Carmen yells, not even batting an eye to hitting the sink. All her focus is on Shadowsan. She isn’t going to let her guard down.

“Can you tell me more about… Shadowsan? Did I say his name right?”

“Jules you should know by now, you are never wrong,” the lady in red pauses for a moment, deciding what she should tell. They both had a clear rule that they followed. Whenever they had time alone, neither would reveal anything too important involving their work. “Okay, I can tell you that he means the world to me. I am extremely lucky to have him with me, since the very beginning, even if I didn’t see all the help he was giving me.”

“You’re lucky to have each other.”

“I’m lucky to have team red and you.”

“Can we turn off the audio, please?” Player ask from behind the laptop’s screen, and when Julia looks over at him, she sees clear sings that he has been crying silently. Besides Shadowsan, he’s known Carmen the longest and was the last person to believe that his best friend was stealing for VILE, despite all the evidence they collected during her crime sprees.

He didn’t even believe Zack, Ivy and Shadowsan when they told him the terrifying truth. Carmen attempted to murder the redheaded male; he only accepted the reality when he saw it for his own eyes. The black and white video Julia found showing Carmen and Zack. The latter begging for help and with a wickedly sweet voice Carmen told him the fate that awaited him.

“That’s impossible! Carmen loves us, she would never do anything that puts us in danger,” Player denied, shaking his head as he ran his hands over his exhausted face, clearly tired of this conversation. “We are her family, and she would die protecting us.”

“Player please- “Ivy tried to calm the teen, but her brother interrupted her efforts.

“I looked her dead in the eyes, Player! She looked right at me while I asked if she was okay, if she recognized me!... All she said was that she recognized a problem, right before she kicked me,” Zack finished quietly, biting his second index finger knuckle as he shakily inhaled and exhaled. Tears threatening to fall down his face while he recalls the events he lived through, as his sister begins to rub his back, trying and failing to comfort him. “I don’t know what or how, but VILE turned her against us.”

“No, she has to be playing them. You know, destroying them from the inside out, right?” Looking over at everyone one at a time, his gaze remains on Shadowsan’s when he speaks again, “You know Carmen, she’s not capable of doing such a heinous crime. That’s why you failed her, because you knew deep down, inside your heart she could never take someone’s life. Carmen wouldn’t try to kill Zack, or anyone for that matter.”

“I know how hard this is to hear, but only because it’s hard doesn’t mean it’s a lie.”

With that, the entire room falls into silence. Seconds quickly become minutes, and those minutes feel like lifetimes. Julia can see in Player’s eyes that he still doesn’t believe them, and she won’t blame him. For so long, Carmen always presented herself as untouchable, even when she was clearly injured, she fought on. She stood her ground against VILE and ACME, and despite both organizations best efforts Carmen was always one step ahead of them.

“Player, I need to show you something,” unlocking her tablet, Julia quickly located the carnivals security cameras. “I hoped I wouldn’t have to show you this, but it’s the only thing that will open your eyes. Despite Mr. Calloway turning off the electricity at the carnival, the cameras inside each pod continued recording, running on their backup batteries.”

The video immediately begins when the power was cut off, Zack on his knees while Carmen stalks towards him. The camera’s angle above the door still being able to record the pleased smile forming on Carmen’s face. “Carm, what’s wrong? Don’t you recognize me?”

“I recognize a problem.” In an instant she kicks him, a swift kick to his chest with enough power to push him back and through the closed doors. Zack yells as he barely manages to grab a hold of the side of the pod, the scream of the people below barely being loud enough to be captured by the camera.

“Carm, help me. I can’t hold on.”

“See all those tiny dots?” The camera is no longer to see Carmen fully, but her voice is clear as day. The venom from her words deadlier than poison. “Try hitting the one that looks like your partner on the way down.”

“No!”

With that Julia closes her tablet and before she can apologize to them, Player speaks up. “I’m s-s-sorry Zack. I-I-I should have believed y-you.” Tears roll down his face, as he struggled to finish his sentence.

With a sigh, Chief walks over to the console and flips the audio off, throwing the room in complete silence as no one knew what to say. What do you say when someone as great as Carmen Sandiego falls?

No noise is produces as everyone watches Carmen continue to strike at Shadowsan, both clearly speaking. Carmen’s right foot springs into a forward motion as she uses the momentum to rotate her body at 180 degrees, missing Shadowsan completely as her foot comes in contact with the wall. Without even reacting to the pain, she just put herself through. Immediately she spins with her left elbow out, but she is only able to hit the wall again. Nothing seems to register in her mind as she pushes off her right foot in an attempt to punch the ninja, but luckily, he’s able to sidestep her and knock her out in a second. A single attack to the back of her neck is enough to make her fall into his waiting arms.

Cradled by him, he says something before he lifts her in his arm completely. Holding her bride style against his chest as he walks them back to the bed, being careful to place her down gently. Kneeling by her side, Shadowsan remains by her side for a moment before rising and leaving.

It doesn’t take long for him to enter the room they are in, being right next to Carmen. His features remaining neutral as the twins hug him for a moment before remembering who he is. Both whisper their apologies, but he simply places a hand of each of their shoulders.

“Agent Zari has agent Strode given any indications of when she will be able to fix the device?” Chief asks, looking directly at agent Zari, who looks down at her phone for a brief moment before replying.

“A few days at most.”

“Tell agent Strode to report to agent Argent the moment she is done,” taking one last look at Carmen, Chief fixes her gaze towards Shadowsan. “How long do we have before VILE starts suspecting something is wrong?”

“I am unable to tell. Carmen’s father was able to go weeks, even months without contacting them as long as he always made his prolonged trips worth it. Ever since his death, they never allowed a faculty member to leave their headquarters unless it was absolutely necessary,” he pauses as he looks at Carmen’s unconscious form, and Julia might be seeing things, but she swears she saw a single tear roll down his face. “If Crackle is telling the truth, they might be showing Carmen leniency due to her high success rate.”

“So, maybe, we might have a few days at most. Does anyone have a plan to keep VILE unaware of all of this or help Carmen remember the truth?”

Julia hates the silence that continues to overtake the room. A room filled with four agents of a brilliant organization, a master of remaining unseen, a professional driver, a strong mechanic and skillful hacker can’t find a solution to save Carmen.

“What if we do our own version of a bait and switch?” Zack offers, his voice quiet and unsure of himself. When everyone looks at him, he seems surprised at his own idea.

“Like we did in Stockholm?” Player ask, and slowly the twins start forming the plan.

“Yeah. We throw VILE off Carmen’s scent! Ivy could dress up in Carmen’s coat and hat- “

“Popping up around the world and we pretending to rob something of historical importance!”

“We make sure the news knows its ‘Carmen’ committing these crimes and ask the authorities to hide the artifacts till we save the real Carmen!” Zack and Ivy bounce the idea off each other, both interrupting the other when needed to tweak the plan. She won’t lie, it seems like a doable plan considering Ivy has already been able to trick ACME and she doubt VILE is going to know better than they did. Plus, Chiefs already been able to get the Eye of Vishnu back on display and she has enough connections to continue.

“That would buy us some time. If VILE sees that Carmen is simply continuing to steal, they won’t ask any questions.”

“And I think I know how we can jog Carmen’s old memories back.”

```````````````````````````````````

[wallwriterstuff]

It’s A Chore || Whole Guard ||

Summary: I have spent a weekend cleaning my parent’s house top to bottom and am now sick of chores, so it got me thinking about which chores the guard dislike the most! 

Warnings: Felix’s one is perhaps a little dark with mild descriptions of death. 

Alec

Alec is no stranger to hard work (he grew up in a time when he was expected to take on a fair bit of menial work from a young age just to keep his family fed) but that doesn’t mean he enjoys any of it. Alec isn’t one to use his fireplace for obvious reasons, but that doesn’t mean the rest of the guard don’t. Both he and Jane had argued that collecting firewood is something they should be exempt from but Aro’s yet to be persuaded by any of Alec’s arguments, his main one being that vampires don’t get cold so lighting a fire is both an unnecessary luxury and a safety hazard that every guard should be independently responsible for. Aro sees it as a sort of exposure therapy. Alec sees it as his own personal form of torture.

They live slap bang in the city centre, so they have to traipse just beyond city limits to gather the wood they need. Most people class it as a day off and a chance to fool around with the group that gets sent out every few weeks to collect enough to keep up stock levels for their floor, but Alec absolutely detests every moment. He can still remember collecting firewood near the village he grew up in and though it’s far easier now with his strength, he can recall exactly how bad swinging that axe made his shoulders and back ache. He can also recall the catcalls from the other village boys tormenting him about letting his devil sister freeze. It’s just not an activity he enjoys, so his solution was very simple.

Employ a human to do it.

Alec’s aversion to collecting firewood has kept one otherwise poor family on his payroll for centuries, and they deliver right to his door for a little extra tip he is always glad to give them. There are rumours amongst the family of course that their employer hasn’t aged a day since great-great-great-great Grandpa was employed by him but so long as Alec keeps paying them to chop the trees when it’s his turn, none of them ever bring it up.

Demetri:

This man has a love hate relationship with chores. He knows poverty, the stink of it clinging to your clothes, the dirt crusting under your nails and coating everything you own simply because your so busy working to live you don’t have time to clean. For that reason, he’s quite happy to do the chores required to keep his room clean and is one of those people who calls out others who aren’t doing their bit to keep the common areas of the castle clean to – he was the one who made the cleaning rota and every lower guard member that has ever complained about it very quickly shuts up when they realise he created and enforces it religiously.

On the flip side, ever since Amun created him he has been pulled out of squalor and living in the lap of luxury. He’s spent a millennium in the finest clothes, his food hand-picked and delivered to him, his quarters giving him more space than he was ever accustomed to before. So why should he do chores? He refuses to live in his own mess, so on one hand he’s happy to do his chores but on the flip side surely they can just pay someone else to do them? He has much more important things to do. While you can catch him dusting, polishing, changing bed sheets etc, one thing he absolutely cannot do is sew.

Now he has plenty of money, wealth is easy to accrue as a vampire, and he’s used it plenty to buy what he deems fashionable, but if there’s one human habit he hasn’t been able to shift in all the years he’s lived it’s the reuse and recycle policy. Why should he buy new clothes when he can reuse old ones? That requires a bit of skill in sewing, and unfortunately Demetri has very little. Consequently, he pays to have clothes repaired…and for sewing lessons. He’s just successfully darned his first pair of socks all by himself and is unjustifiably smug about it, but for everything else he pays a professional – no sense in wasting that ostentatious shirt he bought in the 60’s when it could come back into fashion at ANY moment.

Felix:

Felix is generally very happy with his place on the guard, but there’s one thing that really bugs him sometimes, and that’s the one particular chore he gets called on for a lot. There’s a lot of tourists that come through the castle on a fortnightly basis, and since they don’t leave…how do you get rid of them? With a contingent of lower guard under his command, it’s left for Felix to dispose of the bodies more often than not. The higher-ranking guard members do take turns to chip in and help with the clean-up, but more than one person has started to realise that more often than not Felix is the one left to the task.

He has a bulky frame and he’s exponentially strong, so he can shift a fair amount of bodies in record time once clean up begins. He strips the bodies of valuables, as the last of the blood drips down the drain, and once they’re ready for moving, he can take several at once down to the ovens near the dungeons and start cremating them. He’s good at his job, but he doesn’t like doing it. Burning flesh smells bad and if he’s brutally honest, he doesn’t want to end up looking twice at the people he’s fed from. It’s very obvious they all died in pain and more often than not their faces aren’t peaceful, mouths frozen open mid-scream and glassy eyes staring back at him till he closes them.

He’s made noise once or twice about being put on clean up duty less, but sadly he’s made himself invaluable at this task. He only does it so efficiently because he can’t wait to get the morbid task over with.

Jane:

Jane is…not spoiled per say, but she tends to get what she wants a lot. Her role as a woman in her human life was entirely domestic. She was meant to be a dainty little housewife so it’s really not a big deal for her to do the chores necessary to keep her room clean. There’s something oddly comforting actually, about cleaning her room. It’s one of the few things that makes her feel normal actually and she quite relishes the chance to drop the scary guard act. Hell, sometimes a quiet evening polishing her coin collection (whichever case happens to be on display gets polished once a week like clockwork) actually makes her smile.

What Jane appreciates less is having to clean the common areas. Demetri’s rota is the bane of her existence and she has tried multiple times to sabotage it but Demetri always has spare copies, and no amount of torture so far has gotten him to give up the location of these copies for her to destroy them. As far as Jane is concerned, she is responsible for her mess and her mess alone. Why should she clean up after anyone else? Nobody in the guard regardless of rank is younger than a few decades at best so they are all grown up enough to know to clean up after themselves, especially when they indulge in the secretary without permission and left a horrific blood stain she had to use three different types of Zoflora on to get rid of the smell.

[astraeagreengrass]

Blue

The Blue Henley™ and that’s it.

Word Count: 1.567

Warnings: Short and sweet. Mentions of sexy times (no actual sexy times though). English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

A/N: Did I just write something inspired by The Blue Henley™? You bet I did! This is my submission to @jalapenobarnes writing challenge. My prompt was “Basorexia - the overwhelming desire to kiss”. Thank you Saran for hosting this challenge and allowing me to participate!

Disclaimer: I don’t own Bucky Barnes. Unfortunately he is a fictional character and therefore is property of Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. Sebastian Stan’s face belongs to himself. The plot is my own creation.

My masterlist

He is greeted at the threshold by the voices of John, Paul, George and Ringo. 

The Beatles were new to him - like online shopping and Nespresso machines. Maybe, if he’d gone home after ‘45, he’d have dragged Steve to one of their concerts or seen them at Ed Sullivan’s show. And his grandchildren would gawk at him and tell him how lucky he was to have seen the Beatles together.

Maybe.

He couldn’t help it sometimes - how his mind involuntarily drew intricate scenarios of “what ifs” and possibilities. Bucky supposed it was his curse for having lived so long and so hard. His atonement was the constant back and forth of then and now, dealing with the aftermath of everything he missed.

But at least he didn’t kill John Lennon.

The record player was a gift for his 102nd birthday. It resembled very little the one he had back home - his 1940s home. It was sleek, light and state-of-the-art, with that classic vintage look that people liked their electronics to have even if they were far from vintage. 

You’d been so nervous when you gave it to him you couldn’t even wait for the sun to be high in the sky and your lover to be out of the bed. Nervous hands twisted the duvet as Bucky opened the package, careful not to ruin the glitter wrapping paper. He loved it, even if it took him a while to learn how to use the record player. But, once he did, it made way for your favorite tradition: spring saturdays at the flea market, the one in DUMBO or maybe in Williamsburg, looking for old records.

The Beatles, the Stones, Led Zeppelin, Elvis Presley, The Doors, Michael Jackson, Bruce Springsteen, Marvin Gaye and Queen to more recent acts: Nirvana, Guns and Roses, Pearl Jam, the pop groups from the early 2000’s and performers like Bruno Mars and Beyoncé.

Any decade, any rhythm - Bucky Barnes liked music. And you indulged him in his new-found passion, adding soundtrack to the most unexpected moments of his day and being his partner whenever he fancied a dance.

Like now. He found you in the kitchen counter, hips moving slowly as you chopped carrots for dinner.

“Hold me tight / And tell me I’m the only one / And then I might / Never be theAAAAAH” you yelled, half a scream, half a laugh when Bucky surprised you by tickling your sides.

“Holy shit, Barnes! I have a knife on my hands. I could’ve cut myself!” you exclaimed while Bucky doubled over with laughter. 

You threw the knife on the sink, fake pouting, as Bucky came over to you, laugh forgotten. He was all saunter and swagger now, hands reaching out to hold you hips.

“That would teach you not to make dinner while shaking this ass” as to qualify his point, he landed a sharp smack on your left butt cheek, causing you to jump. 

You narrowed your eyes, snark remark at the tip of your tongue when you noticed it.

Blue.

Light blue. Almost teal, but not quite, evenly spread across the expanse of his chest and arms. Blue like his eyes, like the sky on a summer day, like a perfect Caribbean sea.

Beautiful blue.

“Is that… new?” was all you could muster while your gaze roamed the cotton. Your hands left their resting place on the nape of his neck and slid down, as if they could grasp the magnificent color and cradle it.

“Yeah” Bucky said, confused by your reaction. “I bought it last week.”

Such a simple explanation for such a magnificent happenstance. You could picture him: self-conscious and a little overwhelmed as he browsed some fast-fashion looking for simple pieces that didn’t stand out much. Bucky stuck to the classic blacks, whites and grays. Their simplicity made him feel safe and your boyfriend’s comfort would always come before any fashion trend.

Oftentimes a navy color would make an appearance and the way it complimented his eyes made your heart speed up. But this blue... This blue was different. You couldn’t place what was so special about it – was it the shade? An almost exact match to his irises? Was it the contrast of índigo fabric and golden-black forearms?

Bucky watched with raised eyebrows and a confused frown as the tips of your fingers carefully roamed the expanse of his torso, as if you were touching a valuable art piece instead of a US$ 9.99 henley from H&M.

“You okay, doll?” he asked. 

“Yeah” you gawked. “I’m perfect, actually.”

Bucky liked to think he knew you better than he knew himself – your spontaneity, creativity and enthusiasm over the smallest things. Life with you was never dull: it was a collection of happy moments that pieced his broken soul back together. Bucky believed he was used to the spur-of-the-moment midnight walks or the impromptu dance offs in the kitchen, but apparently he wasn’t.

Not when you grabbed him by the collar of the blue henley and kissed him.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss, like the sweet pecks you usually showered him with when he arrived home.  And it wasn’t a violent kiss, like the ones he usually took from you, breath out of breath, in the sacred intimacy of your bedroom.

This kiss was urgent and needy, yet full of the same love he felt every time your mouth reached for his. It tasted like honey on his tongue and sounded like a symphony made of the tiny moans that escaped you when he pulled on your bottom lip with his teeth.

The hand on Bucky's collar moved to his hair. The silky soft brown strands were much shorter, but still long enough to grab them, making him to groan. You felt light-headed, your lungs burning for air and your calves worn out from the effort of standing on your tiptoes, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. The only thing that mattered was him and that blue shirt.

“What was that for?” Bucky whispered when you manage to disentangle yourself from him. Your breath was coming in short, uneven gasps that teased him to no end. His gaze involuntarily lowered from your flushed cheeks to your chest, and the rapid way it rose and fell made him uncomfortable in his pants.

“Nothing" you replied. “You just look really good.”

Bucky laughed - a deep, delicious sound deep from his stomach, echoing at the walls of your heart. You swore you could live in the crinkles of his eyes because Heaven couldn’t compare to this world whenever Bucky Barnes laughed.

Especially if he was wearing that blue henley.

Bucky’s laugh turned into a smirk when he tightened his hold on your hips - one hand was warm and the other a little colder, just the way you liked it and how you wanted it to be forever. Swiftly, he rose you on the counter and moved to stand between your legs. The familiarity and domesticity of it didn’t make it any less thrilling. On the contrary, knowing this love was a constant rather than a possibility caused the butterflies to flutter harder in the pit of your belly. 

His vibranium hand squeezed you thigh before hooking your leg around his waist. The friction of your sweatpants with his jeans was the torturous prelude before the chorus. Bucky grunted in your ear, low and deep and warm as his breath hit the shell of your ear, right before he sucked it.

Oh.

Your hand was twisted in the blue fabric, unsure if you wanted to rip if off him or be it - to hug him and envelop him so perfectly and never let him go. Your embrace was suffocating. A tangle of arms, legs and lips dancing to their own song, writing notes on your skin. It was so easy to get lost in him. To drown in the blissful feel of Bucky’s touch and ignore the revolving world around you

A loud noise startled you, pulling you both apart. Bucky quickly turned to the crash, shielding your body with his. There, in the corner of the living room, the record player - now silent - was on the floor. Standing above the wreckage, nonchalantly licking a white paw, was Alpine.

You sighed.

“Did you say hello to her when you arrived?"

“Nope” Bucky said, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. He chuckled.

You absentmindedly dragged your nails across the nape of his neck and he purred, much like his feline counterpart when he greeted her favorite human.

“That record player was so expensive” you grumbled, face tucked in the blissful blue henley. Damn Alpine for ruining the plans you had for that shirt.

“I know. I’ll buy you a new one.”

“It’s yours, actually.”

“You know what else is mine?”

“Huh?”

“You are.”

You looked up to find him grinning, mischief on the corner of his lips and a twinkle in his gaze. You barely had time to squeal when Bucky lifted you from the counter and over his shoulder and moved to the bedroom, making sure to shut the door. 

“What about Alpine? She’ll destroy the apartment” you asked, body bouncing on the mattress. 

Bucky shrugged then tugged on his henley, tossing the blue to the floor.

Yeah. He looked much better without it.

“It’ll be worth it.”

General taglist: @ivoryhazlewood​ @youclickedthislink​ 

[flowerslut]

happy whumptober 

I’ll be following the lead of @volturialice in doing however many of these as I can in a Very Random order throughout the month. They will all be painfully unedited and posted as they’re written. Tonight’s prompt is a ‘canon’-divergent piece for my Call of the Night readers. (MAJOR SPOILERS for those who haven’t finished CotN)

No 16. A TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE, NO GOOD, VERY BAD DAY Forced to Beg | Hallucinations | Shoot the Hostage

Rating: T for allusions to violence Words: 2,238 Summary: The Protectors don’t make it to the clearing in time.

Borrowed Time

There isn’t a clock in the room.

There’s nothing, really. Not a bed—there would be no purpose for such a thing—or a chair—again, it would be meaningless—or even a window. Not one leading indoors or out. There’s a tiny vent on the ceiling, circulating air he doesn’t need to breathe, and there’s an intercom next to the black-painted door. The intercom is as pointless as the vent, in Jasper’s opinion. He hasn’t had a visitor in days.

Or maybe it’s been months.

He doesn’t quite think it’s been that long; his thirst isn’t bothering him as much as it usually does on a regular, everyday basis. (Or at least, he doesn’t think it is.) Which means he has to have fed recently. Which means someone has brought him blood. (Probably. He doesn’t think he’s hallucinated his meals.)

It doesn’t even frustrate him that he doesn’t remember. Or that he can’t tell what is real.

But there isn’t a clock in his room.

Sure, it won’t exactly help him orient himself. Knowing whether it is nine AM or six PM makes no difference in the grand scheme of things, but it may help settle him more.

His vision shimmers and blurs slightly. Jasper does what he’s done for days (or weeks or months) now: he stares straight ahead, unable to even brace himself, as the hallucination seizes him.

He doesn’t mind them anymore. After all, he’s been powerless to stop their onslaught. Just in the same way he’s powerless to control anything he does while they take over. It’s a strange feeling. He’s slowly becoming accustomed to the way his mind and body act while the world around him—a world that he’s not entirely sure is real or not—morphs and shifts.

He’s barely aware of the way he screams sometimes. At nothing, at everything.

It’s as if he’s been split in two. He is Jasper. He knows that much. But whatever hold Skye has put on him—whatever sickness she’s afflicted his mind with—has forced him, or the essence of who he is, to retreat far back into the recesses of his mind. When he’s able to think coherent thoughts he wonders if he’ll ever be able to make it back out of the pit he’s dug for himself in his own mind. In the area of his subconsciousness that is still his.

He’s partly aware of how he sees Maria in front of him. She’s dangling something, trying to draw his attention. He focuses on the detached limb she’s waving in front of his face, as if taunting him, and instantaneously he recognizes Alice’s skinny wrist.

He lunges at Maria but when his hands squeeze around her throat suddenly she’s not in his grasp and he’s spinning and hissing and screaming.

“You did so good,” he hears her voice purr as he desperately tries to find her in this room. “You did everything I needed you to.” Her accented voice is as high and clear as it’s ever been. 

The part of his mind that is still sane struggles to be heard. She isn’t here. She’s lying. Alice is fine. Alice is okay. Focus. Ignore it.

But Jasper growls and lunges and yells for so long that eventually it’s been so long since he heard Maria’s voice in his ear that he doesn’t know how long he’s been screaming for.

And there isn’t even a clock in the room.

His body calms down as his mind begins to agonize over the woman he loves.

Alice. He wants to cry out for her. Where are you?

But he’s terrified to even attempt to speak the words out loud. He isn’t confident in his body’s ability to obey an order from the part of his mind that still belongs to him. And even if he could find his tongue and utter that two-syllable name he’s petrified that Maria’s voice will answer in reply.

Dead. She’s dead and you killed her. Those are the words she would say. Those are the words he’s heard her say in his mind for days or weeks or months now. Even before he’d been confined to this room they were the words he’d been haunted with. From the first nightmare Skye gifted him with to the most vivid hallucinations that seize him in this tiny, inescapable room.

He’s not entirely sure where he is. He knows he’s not in the clutches of Maria or her radicals any longer. The only solid memory he’s been able to form in the past few months is of the night his comrades took him back into their custody.

The smell of funeral pyres burning had registered in his senses before his airways had been cut off with a strong arm wrapping around his neck, ready to pluck his head from his shoulders at a moments notice.

He would’ve recognized Emmett’s signature hold anywhere and would have cried with relief if he’d been able to inhale enough air to complete the motion, but he was instead stuck frozen. After an unknown amount of time being subjected to Maria’s manipulation and Skye’s torture, he had nearly forgotten what it felt like to see, and to feel, and to breathe the air around him.

He’d forgotten what it felt like to exist in the real world.

With the way Emmett was holding him, Jasper’s head was stuck upward, staring as smoke filtered it’s way into the sky, the dark gray slowly blending into the blackness and dimming the stars above.

“Maria,” he managed to choke the word out with the little bit of air still left in his lungs. Kill her, he screamed mentally, just in case Edward was nearby.

And he was. Not two seconds later the sound of Edward’s distraught voice carried across the clearing.

“She’s dead,” Edward spoke monotonously, and Jasper couldn’t figure out why he didn’t sound relieved to be saying such a thing. Instead of relief, waves of sorrow and dread rolled over him as Edward continued uttering the words, over and over again, as if in disbelief. “She’s dead.”

He heard Bella crying—of course Bella was nearby, that was probably how they’d momentarily freed his mind from Skye’s hold—and then suddenly the haze was back, and he was lost to the nightmares once more.

Jasper doesn’t know how long ago that was, but it had been far too long.

Perhaps they’re still searching for a more permanent solution to his predicament. After all, Bella can’t linger by his side and shield him for the rest of their eternity. Perhaps there isn’t a solution. Perhaps this is their solution: to keep him locked away.

In all of his past research into Alice’s records, he’d never once given a thought about how a vampire asylum might operate if such a thing existed. But here he is, locked away with his mind wrapped up tight inside a snare, at the mercy to the lunacy that owns him now.

Time passes, because it always does, but Jasper doesn’t have a clock, so Jasper doesn’t know how long it is before suddenly he’s on his knees, inhaling what feels like his first breath of air in years.

He’s caught himself somehow and spends several seconds staring at the backs of his scarred hands. What he’s seeing is real, and he can just barely hear the sound of very muffled voices from beyond the door of wherever it is he’s being kept.

He’s scared to speak but after a few seconds, when the clarity doesn’t subside, he calls out as loudly as he dares. “Hello?”

His voice isn’t raspy but he knows that it isn’t carrying beyond the door. “Hello?” He calls louder this time, and the quiet sounds coming from somewhere outside of this room silence completely.

The lack of noise nearly drives him back into madness instantly.

“Please, don’t go. I need to know what—where am I? What’s going on?” He’s begging before he can control himself. On his hands and knees he pleads to whoever is listening in on his desperation, feeling like the shell of a man. “Please tell me you can fix this,” he raises his voice even louder as he calls out. “Please, I just want to talk to somebody.” Along with the clarity, he realizes something. “Bella? Are you there?”

The intercom clicks on.

“Hey, Jasper. You gotta stand up and back up or I can’t come in.” 

It’s Emmett.

Jasper is so relieved to hear his voice that in a millisecond he’s off of the ground and as far away from the door as he can physically be in the tiny room.

“Now, I don’t want you attacking me or whatever, so you’ve gotta turn around and put your hands on the back of your head. Sorry man.”

Before Emmett’s even apologizing for the request Jasper has already done what has been asked of him. He doesn’t even care—and it makes sense; Jasper isn’t positive that he won’t attack Emmett—he’s so full of hope and relief that he would jump up and down like a fool if it meant he’d be in the company of someone familiar for any measure of time.

Jasper can hear more muffled noises before the intercom clicks on again. There’s a long sigh. “I know,” the first two words aren’t directed at Jasper, but the rest are. “You’re not allowed to turn around while I’m in there, okay?”

“Okay, I won’t.” Jasper quickly assures the man. He’s so antsy to be in Emmett’s presence. He has thousands of questions and he’s praying his comrade—the closest thing to a friend he has in this world—will be able to help him understand what’s happening.

The hiss of the door opening causes a feeling of such pure relief that Jasper knows Emmett feels it the instant he’s in the room. But when Jasper doesn’t feel the door close behind Emmett, he knows something is off.

“Emmett?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

Hearing his voice in person brings emotion straight to the surface and suddenly Jasper is afraid he might start to cry. As he struggles to reign in his emotions, he laces his fingers together behind his head and presses his forehead against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut tightly.

“Where is everyone?” Jasper asks. “Bella is here, right? That’s why I can talk to you. I know that much. Is Skye dead? Is that why I can’t break free from whatever is wrong with me?”

“Bella’s around,” Emmett confirms, his words short. “Skye is alive, too.”

“So she can fix this?”

There’s a pause in which Jasper feels his stomach tighten. “We think so.” But Emmett’s words sound strange.

“Alice?” Jasper asks, still afraid that Maria will appear before him and start taunting him again. The fear just drives him to ask again, but louder, and with more urgency. “Is she here? Is she around?”

“Yeah,” Emmett’s voice cracks as he takes a few steps closer.

“I—can I talk to her?” He hates how childish he sounds. At the same time he hardly cares. He needs Alice more than he needs his sanity. Without her, he doesn’t even know what the purpose of fighting his way out of this haze even is.

“Yeah, you can.”

“I—” It only takes Jasper a few seconds to realize he can’t sense Alice in the vicinity; her emotional climate is so distinct that he would be able to sense her anywhere. Perhaps even in a hallucination. But with that thought, he isn’t so sure. “Do you have to call her? Where is she?”

“You can talk to her soon.” Emmett is much closer now, and every one of Jasper’s instincts has begun to alarm. He wants to turn around so badly and face his almost-friend. He wants to see a face that doesn’t belong to a hallucination and he wants more than anything to hold Alice in his arms once more.

“How soon?” Jasper demands, a crazed desperation beginning to take hold as he feels Emmett stop directly behind him. “I have to talk to her. I need to know she’s okay. You were right, Emmett. I love her. I need to tell her; I haven’t even told her yet.”

Emmett has to interrupt his escalating tirade. “You can tell her in a second,” and he hears Emmett shift slightly. With relief Jasper relaxes, anticipating the inevitable phone conversation that will transpire soon. Emmett must be pulling up Alice’s number because there’s a couple of seconds of silence before he speaks again. “You did really good, Jasper. You helped us finish things.”

“The war is over?” Jasper lets more of his weight rest forward and against the wall as Emmett’s words seep into his bones. “Maria is dead?”

“It’s all over buddy. Everything is going to be okay now.”

“And I’ll be able to talk to Alice soon.”

“Yeah,” and as Emmett’s voice cracks again, Jasper feels emotion begin to stir in him, too. “Real, soon, Jasper.”

“Okay,” Jasper whispers, relaxing as he hears Emmett shift his stance once more. “Okay.”

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

There is no clock in the room. Jasper Whitlock isn’t given a time of death. But time continues to pass nonetheless. The future comes, unseen. Ashes are intermingled with ashes. Love reunited in death and laid to rest together.

There is no clock in the room. But time does not stop.

[talesmaniac89]

A Second too Late

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: As with everything else in his life, Dean realises just a little too late that he loves you, just when you’re lost to him.

Triggers: Heartbreak, angst, unrequited love

Y/E/C = Your Eye Colour | Y/H/C = Your Hair Colour

---

Dean Winchester was always just a split second too late. 

It was the broken, scratched and beaten record of his life. Always one step behind whatever hellish creative torture the world decided to drop on his shoulders next. 

Too late to stop Sammy from getting hurt. Too late to stop his friends from dying. Too late to save the next victim of whatever monster they’d rushed out to kill… Too late to love you.

Sitting numbly in the chair next to yours, Dean could barely hear your words through the white noise in his head. Lost in thought of years spent pretending you were just his best friend. Years spend tricking himself into believing his heart didn’t beat faster whenever you walked into the room. He’d been stifling his feelings for you, until he himself didn’t even know about them, for fucking years, and he still managed to be that damned split second too late. 

Next to him, you were talking about your new boyfriend, though he couldn’t make himself listen to your words. Charles something-or-other had dropped in from nowhere; tearing Dean’s heart out of his chest and grinding it to dust just as he realised how he actually felt about you. Sure, maybe he wouldn’t have realised, if it wasn’t for your plans with a man that wasn’t him. But that didn’t make it hurt any less. 

You were his best friend, you were the reason he kept fighting, the straight and narrow path that kept him good, you were everything to Dean Winchester. Yet, to you he was only a hunting buddy and occasional confidante on dark nights when you couldn’t shake off the shadows of the latest hunt... Or, like it was that night, someone he could share good news with. Though to Dean it sounded more like you were reading his obituary.

“So, I’ll be out of the bunker… Hey, Dean?” 

His name on your lips was the wakeup call he needed to push himself out of the white noise in his own mind. Damn it, he’d never noticed how much he liked the way you said his name. Another example of how he’d always be just that second too late. 

All these missing seconds were adding up; stealing years of his life that could have been spent being more, better. Lost years that could have been spent saving people, hunting things… Loving you.

“What’s up?” 

His fist curled by his side as he watched the small furrow in your brow that followed the question. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and smooth it down. If nothing else, just to touch you, feel that you were still there. With him. Though he’d already lost you to another man. Instead he busied the hand that wanted to trace your features with the glass in front of him.

Chuckling wryly to himself, he drowned the slightly harsh laugh in his tumbler glass when he realised he couldn't honestly tell you what had been on his mind. He loved you. And, even before he realised that simple little fact, you were still his best friend; he always wanted to share every little thing with you. 

Yet, there was no way he could tell you, straight-faced, that he had been lost in thought. Overwhelmed by how much you meant to him. How much he loved you. How it’d struck him, out of the blue, like a lightning bolt. Only to keep striking every time you as much as looked at him, keep burning through his body like he was a goddamn lightning rod. 

Not when he’d loved you for an eternity, yet lost you in a second.

“It’s nothing,” Was all Dean managed to say, not wanting to be the one that brought back up the topic that was currently breaking his heart. Damn it, looking over at you, (Y/E/C) eyes filled to the brim with questions, it was so obvious. He had to be blind not to notice. 

He could feel it with every nerve in his body. How his lips looked for any excuse to say your name, just to taste it. By the way his heart soared with one smile from you, sending him tumbling into a dizzy vertigo that left him gasping for breath. It had always been you.

Dean finally understood why people called it falling in love. 

There was nothing gentle about the feelings raging through the hunter. He wasn’t gently and carefully floating into it or getting wrapped in cotton comfort. He wasn’t able to control it; to stop it, change the direction his heart had taken, or pull himself up and out.

No, Dean was falling. 

Head first. Fast and hard. Without a lifeline. 

Doomed to keep plummeting until he crashed and burned at the bottom of a bottle. Bruised and battered at the edge of his bed with only the cold shadows as his company. Bandaging a broken heart in cold, false indifference by turning to the old reliable art of denial. A hunter’s favourite weapon. Pushing the pieces of his broken heart into a box under lock and key. Burying ‘em 6 feet deep and under enough bodies and dark humour to make the world forget he ever even had a heart. 

Still. He couldn’t stop falling, not until the inevitable collision with reality shattered him into a million tiny pieces of heartbreak at your feet. Not when his mind was screaming the words at him. Not when his whole body was suddenly so painfully aware of you next to him. He figured it out just a second too late, but there was a lifetime lost in everything he felt for you. 

Everything.

That was the only word that mattered to Dean now. If he could, he would give you everything. He wanted you to have everything. You were everything. He wanted your everything. 

Your (Y/E/C) eyes, your laugh, your soft hair, your voice, your hands, your funny faces, your jokes, your stupidly adorable taste in movies. The way you said his name. Hell, the way you said anything really. The way your mind worked. The way you hummed out of tune to his songs in the car. Dean loved everything about you.

It was the only word that made any sense anymore. You were everything to him.

Taking another generous sip of the whiskey to wash away the bitter realisation that by losing you, he’d lost everything, Dean finally lifted his head to meet your eyes. Unable to keep himself away now that his heart had caught up to his stubborn mind. 

Somehow, even though you were right by his side, he was still missing you unless his eyes focused on you. 

Glancing at you from the corner of his eye, Dean marvelled at the fact that he ever managed to look straight at you. You were blindingly bright, breath-taking… Looking at you directly would leave him tongue-tied and breathless. You were… 

Hell, Dean had never been good at finding the right words. And either way you were too beautiful for a few measly letters strung together.

Of course some other man, a better man, had seen you and fallen for you. If it was you, then even heaven itself would fall to its knees in worship. Yet, where he was left in the endless fall, your new boyfriend was floating, together with you. Weightless and far above the darkness that surrounded one Dean Winchester. 

No. He needed to stop the slow-motion car crash that was his mind. Focus back on you. If nothing else, as your best friend. And to hear your voice, let it soothe him. Even if the topic was one he’d rather not touch.

“So, what time…” He couldn’t force the words out, as they burned like acid in his throat. Leaving the question unfinished and letting you deal with how you wanted to answer him. 

“Tomorrow? At around 6pm I think,” You said with a noncommittal shrug. Unaware how every one of your words were a sentencing and execution all at once. With Dean at the gallows; a soldier sentenced to death by heartbreak for being just that little bit too late.

He shouldn’t have asked. But if there was one thing Dean had learned about himself over the years it was that he was, apparently, a sucker for punishment. 

Finishing his whiskey in one go, he put the empty tumbler glass back on the table with a soft thud. Yet he was unable to remove his hand from it to reach for the bottle straight away. Afraid that if he did he’d either reach out to push your (Y/H/C) hair behind your ear or run away from it all unless he anchored himself to the table. No, Dean never ran away; not from the burdens he was forced to carry, not from the monsters he had to fight to protect the world, and definitely not from you. 

“Do you want another…” Dean started, unable to continue talking about your… About tomorrow. Yet still not wanting the night to end. Wishing for at least another few seconds to bask in something that was already lost to him. 

“I shouldn’t, it’s late… And I have a long day tomorrow,” You sighed, casting a joking gaze of longing towards the whiskey bottle before getting up with a stretch. A long day getting ready for him. Dean’s shaky hand reached out for the whiskey bottle you’d just rewarded with a look he’d kill for. Serving himself up a double; a necessary sacrifice from the amber liquid to his breaking heart.

Your eyes were lost to him as you stood by his side for a second, emptying the last drops of golden whiskey out of your own glass. A glass Dean envied more and more with every broken beat of his heart.

He wished you’d just reach out. Place a hand on his shoulder. A soft pat of informal friendship to say goodnight. Even if it was just for a second. Just so he could feel that there was a bond between you. That there was a single moment, a small gesture, that was only his. Just so he could feel your warmth, without it burning his fingertips with a touch he could never give you himself. Afraid that if he did, you’d know. That his feelings would transfer, from his fingers to your heart, and you’d never look at him the same way again.

“Ah alright,” Dean said, more to the glass than you as you slowly gathered up your things from the library table. A small smile on your lips, already shaping happy dreams around your plans for tomorrow. Though to Dean, it felt like the sun would never rise again. 

His stomach lurched with dirty, possessive feelings at the thought of you laughing and smiling with another man. Because he wanted to be the reason for your smile. Just like you were his reason for everything. 

‘Don’t go’, he thought as he drowned the acrid possessive thoughts in a sip of whiskey. Though he knew he could never say the words out loud. Loving Dean Winchester was a burden he could never force you to carry. Instead the words stuck in his throat, caught on the broken shards of his heart.

‘Stay with me’, he pleaded silently, more to the bottle than you. Biting the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood to keep the many words in. Damn it, it was so loud inside his head with all the things he wanted to confess to you; to his best friend. 

“Good night,” Dean whispered instead. 

Camouflaging his belated confession of love behind wishes of sweet dreams. Because if he let the words slip he would fall even further, and though heights never scared him, the thought of falling for you did.

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Tags:

Dean Winchester Stories: @ria132love​​ @woodworthti666​​ @defenderrosetyler​​

All Stories: @deanwanddamons​

[jasontoddiefor]

(Grandpa Vader) Vader is putting Rey down for a nap and doing his best approximation of what his suit will allow for singing which doesn’t sound nice to him but his Rey of sunshine loves it

TW for Vader’s physical health bc oh boy

His throat ached. Usually his support suit forced air in and out of his lungs. It had taken long to get used to the involuntary movement, but after so many years Vader had gotten used to it. Now he loathed breathing on his own. The Emperor forced him to do so at times for his disobedience. He turned off Vader’s life support and his meager protection against Force-lightening, which meant he had to breathe manually. Not many had managed to drive him so far in battle that he had to breathe on his own, but Ahsoka did come to mind. When his pain had echoed in the Force, she had certainly been taken aback for a moment before resuming her assault.

He wondered what she would think of him now. The whole procedure exhausted him quickly, never mind how dangerous it was to his own health.

And yet here he was, all machinery turned off so he could produce a low vibration in his throat. He used to have a good voice before he fell, or so he had been told. Singing had been entertaining then, now it was just a torture he could hardly manage. Humming was much easier for him. The notes rumbled deep at the back of his throat, a half-forgotten lullaby he recalled his mother singing to him.

The child sleeping soundly on his chest wasn’t complaining. Rey was a fussy baby. Not so much out loud, she hardly screamed or cried, Force-sensitive children rarely spoke early when they were surrounded by others who were gifted like them. Some of the calmest rooms in the Jedi Temple had been the rooms for their youngest. They only started making noise when they were around three years of age, and then spoke full sentences rather quickly. There would be no telling how Rey would develop, similarly likely with only Luke and him to look after her. They were both strong in the Force, and so was she, even if she had been born prematurely. Then again, Anakin had been born in the desert, Vader on the shores of Mustafar and Luke from tragedy and the coldness of space. If anything, they were stronger for it.

Vader breathed in again, held it for a few moments, then slowly pushed the air out of his lungs again. The movement was precise, deliberate. He exercised as much control over the movement as his suit and his muscles allowed him too.

It was supposed to be a joyful melody, the kind that made you forget about all the hardships of the day. Vader used to associate it with safety and the sky, all his hopes and dreams. He doubted it would mean the same to Rey, locked up as she was in their quarters. She was too young now to truly understand what was going on and would be for years to come, but one day in the future she would have to leave this haven. No child should be raised a prisoner, yet Vader was forcing his granddaughter and his son to endure it for their own safety. He had to dispose of the Emperor soon so he could give his family what they always out to have.

It was getting harder to concentrate. Vader could feel his control, the absolute best and sharpest in the galaxy, starting to slip. He couldn’t continue on like this much longer, but he loathed to stop. Rey was so warm, full of content and happiness in his arms where she had been crying out in the Force before. It had been so loud, Vader had expected Luke to abandon his shift all together and just return to their quarters. But his son too had a role to play, couldn’t only be Rey’s father and the wonder Vader knew him to be. No, he had to hide away as another mechanic in the Star Destroyer’s ranks as to not draw any attention to himself.

Perhaps Vader should have brought them to Mustafar or hidden them away somewhere else, but then he’d never be quick enough to come to their aid should they call out to him.

“You’re in pain.”

Vader slowly turned around to see Luke standing in the entryway of the nursery, leaning against the door frame. Tired as he was, Luke looked so incredibly young. Vader knew he had gotten a few comments about it, they had aged Luke up considerably on his forged ID, but given his wisdom, Vader sometimes even believed it. He had been a snot-nosed Padawan still at Luke’s age. Unable to move forward or truly understand how the Force worked.

“You don’t have to suffer for us, Father,” Luke continued.

“I know.”

But he wanted to. In another world, somewhere kinder perhaps, he would be able to hum or sing for his granddaughter without walking towards death's door, but not in this one.

Luke only shook his head and finally stepped close. He did not take Rey from Vader, he merely sought out the control panels that reactivated Vader’s machine-assisted breathing. He looked up to Vader and when he nodded, Luke turned it on again.

Air was pushed in and out of his lungs once more against his will, overriding his autonomy and keeping him alive. It was a blessing and a curse at once.

“It is an unpleasant sound,” Vader told Luke when he had adjusted to the switch.

“Because it’s the last thing your enemies hear?” Luke asked.

Then he snorted, his lips curled to a smile so reminiscent of his mother, it would have taken Vader’s breath away.

“I’ve never associated it with harm,” Luke said. “And I don’t think Rey does either. She likes it. Her own personal lullaby.”

His breathing was everything but a kind lullaby, yet Rey was still sleeping. She was comfortable, swaddled in a thick warm blanket, lying in the arms of a blood-drenched mechanic nightmare. He wondered if she’d think the same when she was old enough to see the gore Vader created on his path through the galaxy. She would have to witness it someday to know Vader would never let any harm come to her, and yet he didn’t want her to ever be exposed to such horrors. It was bad enough Luke got to see the worst this war had to offer even though he was stuck on the ship.

“You’re joking.”

“No, really.” Luke grinned. “I play a recording of it when I put her to sleep. It works like a charm. Doesn’t it, my little Rey of sunshine?”

Rey, of course, didn’t reply or react in any way, but she was still warm and alive and untroubled.

It was enough for now.