#IGNORE THE TAGS i’m building this blog brick by fucking brick!

[bitchassangels]

i’m a simple creature: i browse the for you tab, i see a w*ncest post, i immediately block and say three hail marys. all is well

[angstyaches]

Drop

Again, this is quite heavy for this blog. Please heed the warnings! DM me for a summary, if you don’t want to actually read it because of any of the tags (I’ll make a post if anyone asks on anon). Stay safe, friends.

CW: disordered eating mention, alcohol, heights (inc. character struggling with fear of heights), angsty and dark thoughts, relationship problems being discussed, very brief but intense death ideation, mention of gore/injury (described by character, not real), danger of falling, mention of broken glass, emeto, food mention, blood mention

 ___

Shayne had hoped the bad thoughts would take longer to find him, but they were waiting for him just on the other side of his bedroom door in the townhouse. For the past two weeks, he’d eaten three meals a day with Charlie at his parents’ house, even if some of them were small, and he’d been imagining himself keeping it up once he got back, but now that he was alone, the shame and the feeling of helplessness that had always surrounded food came flooding back.

When dinner time rolled around that evening (he knew it was dinner time because his stomach remembered), he felt Madelyn’s phantom breath on his neck and ignored the hunger. He crawled into his bed and tried forcing himself to sleep before his body could realise it was being deprived.

But god, he was just a needy, greedy little black hole of a creature, a sap on the world so long as you’re not fulfilling your duty, an insult to flesh and bone, nothing but darkness and hunger and waste and –

Shayne sat up in bed and squeezed his head between his hands. He’d gotten so used to Charlie’s constant presence and warmth, that he was already feeling unbearably lonely without him.

Stupid Charlie, he thought, feeling a flutter of affection in his chest as he pictured Charlie’s head resting on his shoulder. And then, a sinking feeling.

In the absence of Madelyn’s voice in his head, Shayne realised how… quiet everything else was. Ryan and Nancy were probably still travelling in Europe, but Elliott and Felix should have been here.

He’d half-expected Felix to come pounding on his door around this time, raving about whatever he was cooking and asking questions about Shayne’s Christmas. But the fact that the townhouse was this silent was extremely unpleasant.

Shayne let himself into the hallway, pausing and holding his breath, scanning for any signs of life. He could have done this easily if he’d been in a forest, but houses and urban settings were always trickier. He picked up a flash of something, a thrum of a heartbeat, but it sent his head spinning and he had to stop concentrating. It seemed to be coming from Elliott and Felix’s room, even though he hadn’t heard a single stir in there since he’d gotten home.

“Hello?” he asked softly, pushing the door open slowly.

He wasn’t surprised that it was cold in the bedroom beyond, but a breeze took him right in the face. Papers had been gently blown across the floor, and a vase holding a fake rose had been knocked from the windowsill onto the floor.

Nobody was in here. This wasn’t where he’d sensed somebody.

The view of the town was incredible from this height, four storeys up. It was around dusk, so there were lights blinking to life in houses and office buildings even as Shayne stood by the open window and rested his hands on the sill.

“Elliott?” he called out quietly, leaning his head outside. The distance from his face to the street below was dizzying.

“The fuck do you want?” came a curt reply, which made Shayne look to his right. The moulding on the outside of the building was about a metre wide, enough for Elliott to slump against the brick wall with a glass balanced on his knee and a bottle grasped in the opposite hand.

His hair was loose of its usual ponytail, as well as being greasy and dishevelled from having fingers constantly dragged through it. He was scraping it back with his left hand at that very moment, eyes glazed over as he looked up at the sky.

“When’d you get back?”

“Uh, today. Earlier.” Shayne could hear how high-pitched his voice had gotten, but what could he do about it? He couldn’t stop wondering how Elliott’s weight wasn’t forcing him to slink further down, legs pulling him over the edge. “El, what are you doing? Someone’s gonna see you out there.”

“So?” Elliott shrugged. “Maybe I’ll become a Reddit legend.”

“I have no idea what that means,” Shayne sighed. “What’re you doing out there? Are you okay?”

Elliott blinked, the motion slowed by the darkness and an unknown amount of whisky. “Come here, and I’ll show you.”

Shayne would have really preferred not to, but it didn’t look like Elliott was coming to him anytime soon. He turned around and sat up into the windowsill, slowly shifting his legs around so his feet touched the moulding. He breathed hard, tried not to look at the fall below, and told himself that if it could hold Elliott’s weight, it could hold his.

“You know, inside, there are floors and – and chairs,” he stammered, edging closer to Elliott before lowering himself to a seated position. He didn’t slump like Elliott though; his hands were pressing the concrete, stiff as pillars. “Lots of nicer and safer places to sit and drink whisky.”

“Mmph.”

The words barely seemed to reach Elliott’s ears.

“So, what’s up?” Shayne asked.

When Elliott smiled, it was a sick thing that twisted the lower half of his face without touching the rest. He looked past the rim of his glass and out across the town. Shayne wouldn’t have been surprised if his glare had caused a sudden flash of lightning to tear through the clouds.

The silence seemed to press in further, the sound of traffic fading away as though a bubble had descended on the rooftop.

“Where’s… Felix?” Shayne already had the feeling that the answer wasn’t going to be good.

“I don’t know.” Elliott pursed his lips. “Think he’s left me.”

A cold stone seemed to drop through Shayne’s stomach. He couldn’t begin to imagine what the equivalent of that felt like for Elliott. “What? Why?”

After a slight roll of his eyes, Elliott reached into the pocket of his trousers, fidgeting with something before pulling out a ring. He twirled it between his thumb and his figure, examining it up-close for a second before holding it out.

“Oh.” Shayne eyed the ring for a moment before reluctantly lifting one hand – one of his supportive pillars – and letting Elliott place it in his palm. “I take it he said no?”

“No, he didn’t say no. He didn’t say… anything.”

“Is that – is that better, or worse?”

“Fuck if I know.”

“Sorry, El.” Shayne gulped and stared at the ring, only managing to hold onto it for a couple of seconds. Elliott had already taken his eyes off of it, his attention snagged by his drink again. A slight breeze across his skin made Shayne shudder, as though it could possibly throw him off balance. Mostly, it was just cold and unpleasant. “Here, take it back. I’m gonna drop it or something.”

“Why would you drop it?” Elliott asked with a grunt, reaching to pick up the ring. His fingertips lingered a moment as he realised how badly Shayne’s hand was trembling. “Fuck, man, are you okay?”

“Mmm.” Shayne put his hand down next to him again, fingers aching under the pressure he was putting on them.

“What’s up?” Elliott scoffed lightly. “You gonna hurl?”

“Maybe,” Shayne admitted. “I’ve never been up this high before.”

“Jesus, you’re such a drama queen.” Elliott planted a hand down and pushed himself to his feet. His movements were as swift and graceful as a panther, even while drunk, and he seemed to tower unreasonably high over Shayne as he straightened his back and stretched his arms over his head. He almost reached the roof tiles that jutted out over the top floor. A strong gust of wind could probably have toppled him, especially considering how much whisky was probably flooding his system.

Elliott’s feet made a scraping sound on the concrete as he lowered his arms, laughing deep in his chest.

“Elliott, stop! Just sit the fuck down.”

“Why?” Elliott’s voice was no stronger than a breath. He closed his eyes for a worrying amount of time, his shoulders swaying slightly as his arms hung by his side like weights. “Would you care if I fell?”

Shayne got a sinking feeling, for what seemed like the hundredth time in ten minutes. “What kind of question is that?”

“Do you think I’d die, actually?” Elliott perked up again, unnervingly so. He opened his eyes and lifted his glass slightly. He craned his neck to look over the edge of the moulding. He hummed, like he was pondering whether he should buy a pair of shoes in black or in brown. “I’m fairly sure that fully-developed vampires can only die if they’re burned alive, but… I wonder how thoroughly that’s been tested.”

“Elliott –”

“I’ve had a decent run. In human years, I’m almost seventy, you know? That’s longer than a lot of people end up with…”

Shayne didn’t know if he should have been trying to grab Elliott to stop him from teetering so close to the edge, or if that would make everything worse. He could barely breathe, let alone think.

“It’d still fucking hurt either way, though.” Elliott threw back the last mouthful of his drink and smacked his lips. “Bones poking up through my organs, probably bits of me exploding on impact –”

“Elliott, seriously, you’re just being an asshole now, just sit down!”

“Would it make him come back, if I was injured like that?” Elliott demanded, his golden eyes piercing and intense. He was beginning to lapse into clumsy arm gestures, his voice rising higher with emotion. “Would it put everything into perspective, Shayne? Would it fix everyone’s problems if I was maimed? Or if I was completely and utterly de–?”

Shayne’s stomach turned, his hands flying to his face, as the whisky glass shuddered and dropped out of Elliott’s hand. It disappeared from view, faster than the sick grin could fall from Elliott’s face.

The shatter was tiny; Shayne had to really strain his ears to hear it. He watched Elliott blink tears down his face and slowly lower himself to his haunches. He opened his mouth wide, like he was going to scream, but no sound came out.

“Hey,” Shayne whispered, letting go of a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. He stretched out one hand, trying to gently catch Elliott’s attention. “El. Elliott.”

Elliott didn’t move. He stayed crouched, one hand gripping the edge of the moulding, his face hovering over the side. When he blinked, tears fell and missed the building completely, dropping straight to the sidewalk that was four storeys down. 

“El, come on.”

All the way down to the sidewalk –

“Elliott.”

He turned his head, swaying a little, and for a moment Shayne thought that was it, that he was gone, he’d lost his balance. Shayne sat forward on his heels, instinctively making an uncalculated grab for his cousin’s hand, but luckily Elliott was reaching back too; two fumbling hands happened to fumble in the right directions at the right time.

“Fuck,” Elliott whimpered, steadying himself on his feet again. Shayne could feel both their pulses in their joined hands, Elliott’s almost explosive. “We should… We should probably get off this thing.”

“Oh, you think?” Shayne snapped, though he clung to Elliott’s hand like a toddler to a parent as the two of them edged back over towards the window. He hopped in through the window first, turning to make sure Elliott was following him. The taller man hit his head on the open window, making the frame shudder as he shut his eyes and winced.

“Shit, are you okay?” Shayne held out a hand to help him make it the rest of the way.

“I’m fine, get off me,” Elliott growled, shoving Shayne away from him and storming over to the bed.

“Fuck heights,” Shayne murmured, pulling the window shut with more force than was probably necessary. It released some of the fear that had been pinching his nerves though, and his head felt clearer. “We should probably go down to the street and clean that glass up before someone –”

“Shut up.”

Shayne shrugged, gazing at Elliott as he sat at the edge of his bed, head resting in his hands. “Is – is your head okay, or –?”

“What’d I just say?”

“You said to shut up, but how the fuck do you expect me not to ask you if you’re okay? You almost fell off the fucking… roof!” Shayne smacked his hand on the bedpost as he walked by, partially on purpose. “Fuck you, Elliott.”

“Calm down, man,” Elliott snarled, his head shooting up from his hands. “Come on, you seriously think that’s the closest I’ve ever come to dying?”

“You can’t…” Shayne stopped by the door to the hallway, eyes lowered. “You can’t do shit like that, you can’t talk like that. I don’t care if he’s left you, if the world’s falling to shit, if you think nobody cares about you being around, you can’t…”

A sob broke the air, and Shayne froze, turning to watch as Elliott hunched over at the edge of the bed, his head ducking and disappearing from his silhouette.

“I’m… sorry.”

Having never heard such a heart-wrenching sound from Elliott before, Shayne found himself hurrying back to the bed. He sat down next to Elliott and let him sink his head against his shoulder and cry, his body convulsing with what seemed to be days’ worth of pent-up agony and sadness. Shayne felt utterly useless; he couldn’t guarantee that everything would be alright with Felix, because how the hell could he possibly know that?

“Ugh, fuck,” Elliott exclaimed, his shoulders jerking forward with a sob so deep that it sounded more like a hiccup. He clamped a hand over his mouth, the other lifting to tentatively cover the front of his head, where he’d hit it on the window.

“You okay, man?” Shayne asked hoarsely.

Elliott shook his head, face paling even in the dull light.

“You gonna hurl?” Shayne murmured, wondering if the irony would be lost on Elliott in his current state. He was already getting to his feet, remembering that Felix kept a metal bin under his desk.

“Mmmph.” Elliott nodded furiously, only releasing his mouth from his hand once Shayne had thrust the bin at him. Saliva glistened on his lips as he hovered, breathing heavily. His eyes were red and swollen and he was still gently kneading his head.

A deep retch rolled his shoulders and made him duck his head further into the bin. Shayne grimaced and almost put a hand on Elliott’s shoulder before remembering that that would have been a terrible idea. He stood by the desk instead, arms folded around his waist, flinching in time with Elliott’s horrifying gagging.

When Elliott’s face resurfaced, he was gasping and spitting out mouthfuls of thick bile and saliva, tinged only slightly with the golden hue of the heavy liquor.

“Jesus,” he choked out. “How hard did I hit my head?”

After a disbelieving glance towards the window, Shayne scoffed. “Your head? What about the god-knows-how-much whisky in your system right now?”

“Alright, whatever,” Elliott groaned. He pawed at a thick strand of his hair that was stuck to the side of his face and trailing into the bin itself, tossing it over his shoulder. Just in time too, since the next retch was deep and abrupt and dragged a rumbling belch up alongside a gush of foamy alcohol and stomach acid.

Between gags, Elliott let thick liquid drip from his mouth into the bin, body shivering with the effort it took to bring everything up. It went on for so long that Shayne was certain Elliott was going to fall asleep with his head in the bin.

Eventually, Elliott sat upright, grabbing a tissue from the nightstand and dragging it across the lower half of his face. He tossed it into the bin and reached for another one.

“Want me to get you some water? Or, like, blood?”

“No.” Elliott sighed deeply, dropping the second tissue into the bin before he began to scoop his hair back from his face and neck. “I’ve been drinking on an empty stomach for two days. I wanna go get chips.”

“Chips?”

“Yes. Can you grab one of Felix’s scrunchies from his side?”

Shayne did as he was asked, mostly in a daze, rounding the bed to get to Felix’s bedside locker. There was a pile of hair ties sitting alongside a handheld cassette player.

“Can you even eat?” Shayne asked, leaning across the bed to hand one of the hair ties to Elliott. “You know, with all of your full-vampire shit going on?”

“Seriously, you little asshole?” Elliott snapped, his voice scratchy and weak. “My life is falling down around me and you’re trying to deny me chips?”

Shayne quickly shook his head, a little bit grateful for the bloodcurdling glare that Elliott was currently treating him to. He got up from the bed again as Elliott tended to his hair. “Let me just grab a jacket.”

[fantasticstoryteller]

New Dynasty Chapter 27

Peter sipped his coffee and wondered why he bothered when he metabolized it too quickly for the caffeine to actually do anything. He didn’t even really like the taste of coffee, and yet every time he went to this internet cafe he ordered the same thing. Ah, well, it didn’t really matter much.

He scanned the screen in front of him as he read responses to his blog. Well, not Peter’s blog (because who would read about Peter), but Spiderman’s blog. Most of the comments were along the lines of “who’s writing this because Spiderman wouldn't have a blog” type. He ignored those.

The blog was actually stress release. He felt better after a day of trying to stop Green Goblin without killing him (and seriously, when would the lab make an antidote to the serum that turned Norman Osborn insane?) if he could rant about it. It wasn’t just ranting though—he also posted the little acts of kindness he saw every night during patrol; like the clerk who bought a jug of milk so that a starving runaway would have something healthy to drink, the officer who spent a little extra time helping a high school student with her homework in the park, things like that. Things he noticed and saw—and made those people better heroes than Spiderman would every be.

Oddly enough, today there was a comment with a mini rant on, of all people, Deadpool. After a quick internet search—Deadpool, master mercenary, insane psychopathic killer, the works—Peter puts his coffee down and types a short post.

I’ve been hearing a lot about a mercenary known as Deadpool. I’ve heard that he’s got no morals, is certifiably insane, and has a larger kill count than the last world war. If you read this Deadpool, I want to tell you something: Don’t kill in my city.

Peter did a quick scan for grammar mistakes, and posted the short message. He never intended it to be an invitation.

^^^

Peter was swinging on patrol when he caught sight of a lunatic in a bright red and black, almost form-fitting leather suit. The form was surrounded by armed men and he swung over to see what was going on. “Fellas,” the lunatic said, “I’m flattered—I really am, but have you actually thought this through?” The lunatic paused. “No, I don’t think he knows his face looks like a gorilla’s ass, but I’ll ask. Hey flat-face! Did you know your face looks like a gorilla’s ass?”

Peter rolled his eyes, but couldn't stop a grin. The man the lunatic was talking to had a crease in the middle of his face that did, indeed, make it resemble an ass. Before the man could react Peter caught him with a strand of webbing, yanked him back, and cocooned him.

“Holy shit! It’s Spiderman!” yelled the lunatic before turning and punching one of the men so hard the man’s face deformed. “Hey Spidey! I haven’t killed anyone in your city! Oh, shit, you are still alive, aren’t you? Don’t make a liar out of me!” The lunatic picked up the goon he punched and the man, misshapen face and all, flops around. “Er.” The lunatic put his face on the guy’s chest, nodded, and let him drop to the roof as most of the other men (the ones Peter didn’t web) fled the scene. “Yup, still alive,” the lunatic announced.

Peter stood and looked at the other man in the suit. “You must be Deadpool,” he said flatly.

Somehow, the other man managed to beam at Peter through his suit. “Yes I am. And I haven’t killed anyone in your city!”

Peter remembered the blog and bit back a sigh. He hadn’t meant that to be an invitation—but Deadpool was here. He walked over and gently pat Deadpool on the shoulder. “Good job,” he told the lunatic. A sound caught his attention and he frowned as he pinpointed it. “Bank robbery—this time of night?” he murmured.

“Oh! Let me come too! I want to help too!”

Peter looked at Deadpool, at the mercenary so feared that most people wet their pants, bouncing up and down like an excited puppy. “All right,” he agreed grudgingly, “but let me call someone.”

“A cabbie? A helicopter? Your lady friend?” Somehow the suit gave an impression of waggling eyebrows.

“Police,” Peter said vaguely as he reported the men, requested an armed ambulance escort for one of them, and then closed the phone before tucking it back in his pocket.

“Holy shit, and they say I’m amazing. Well, never twice, but holy shit! Where, in that tightness, did you put a pocket?”

“Are you going to do this the whole way?” asked Peter warily. “Because if you are, you can just meet me at the bank.” He gave the frozen lunatic the address of the bank in question and swings off.

^^^^

Over the next week, Peter kept running into Deadpool while patrolling. True to his word, Deadpool didn’t kill anyone. He seemed happy (albeit, really insane) just tagging along with Peter and helping him fight crime and, occasionally, some of the other people Spiderman had to fight on occasion.

The funniest thing was that Deadpool had begun replying to the Spiderman blog. The comments were just as random, weird, and funny as Deadpool was. Peter didn’t really admit it much, but he enjoyed reading about their patrols together from Deadpool’s point of view.

One night the two of them had teamed up together to fight the Lizard as he was destroying (once again) the building of the lab that he used to work for. “This is not a good idea,” he warned as Deadpool tried to sneak up on the Lizard (difficult, since both Spiderman and the Lizard were scaling the wall). The Lizard’s tail swung out, knocking Deadpool off the side of the building—at thirty floors up.

Peter swung over, grabbed the mercenary, and helped him to a fire escape. “How about an ambush on the roof?” he asked casually, as if he rescued falling mercenaries every day.

Even through the mask he could tell Deadpool was grinning. “Why not?” he demanded. “Rooftop battles are my favorite. The moonlight does wonders for my complexion.”

Peter rolled his eyes, grateful his mask was less expressive than Deadpool’s, and scaled back to haul the Lizard out of a window he was crawling into. “Hey tall dark and scaly,” he taunted as he dodged an arm that went through the brick of the building. “Ready to give up yet?” The Lizard roared and charged after Peter, gouging chunks of brick and mortar off in the process. Peter just managed to make it over the top of the roof and duck as Deadpool’s blade (dull side out) smashed into the Lizard’s neck, knocking him unconscious.

The lizard shivered—and slowly shrank back into Dr. Conner, who shivered, naked, in the moonlight.

“What the fuck?” demanded Deadpool as Peter used a blanket to cover the man.

“Dr. Conner’s been researching something to help people regrow lost limbs,” Peter said as he picked up the older man. “There are some—side effects to the serum.”

“That’s one hell of a side effect.” Deadpool followed Spiderman to the ground and to the shelter that Dr. Conner’s wife (after some consultation with Spiderman) had built for the unconscious scientist to be returned to after a fight with Spiderman.

Peter grimaced as he remembered. “Yeah,” he said wearily. “When he found out his project was being shut down he wanted to prove the serum would work on a human subject—so he took it.”

“He took it?”

“Well, giving it to someone else wouldn't be ethical.” Peter tucked Dr. Conner into the shelter and turned to face Deadpool. “There are a lot people like that in this city Deadpool. People who aren’t bad, but are doing bad things because of things that have happened to them. I can’t save everyone,” he added pensively, “but I can try.” The two of them turned and began walking out of the alley. Deadpool was, for the moment, uncharacteristically silent. “I’m glad you trusted me enough to catch you like that,” Peter said.

“What? Trust? Oh—that. Nah, it wouldn't have been a big deal if I had fallen Spidey,” Deadpool said casually. “I can’t die.”

Peter stopped walking, stared at the mercenary, and then began to yell at him about the importance of looking after himself and it didn’t matter if he could just come back from the dead he shouldn’t be dying in the first place.

At the end of the long rant dawn was starting to break over the city and Deadpool just stared at Peter, his usually expressive mask entirely still. “You hungry? I know a great Mexican place—open twenty-four hours!”

Peter sighed. “Yeah, sure, why not.”

[my-love-peterp]

Mistaken Chapter One

Word Count: 2103 THERE ARE NO ENDGAME SPOILERS, THIS IS A DELAYED UPLOAD FROM AO3

Fic Summary: Peter Parker has been given the responsibility of bringing in a new recruit. Now, as an adult, he realizes that none of the trashy YA novels he read in high school could have prepared him for this. There was a storm on the horizon, and all they could do from the Tower is watch.

Chapter Summary: A new recruit is brought into the fold and is more than a handful.

Warnings: language, mentions of injury, non-graphic violence (brief)

A/N:  You may have seen me over @fabtasticass which is my main blog. So this is my first fanfic and it's going to be a big one. It is a Soulmates AU but not in the traditional way. That won't show up until later chapters. I'm going to try to keep endgame a secret the best I can. I have some very angsty ups and downs planned but I'm trying to hold back. So I’ll tag each chapter with what pairing might be in that chapter in the official Tumblr tags but never at the beginning.

I ran, dodging rats, and clumps of unidentified garbage that lay literal feet from a plethora of garbage cans and dumpsters. God, I hated this city.

I especially hated this city in the rain, dashing through back alleys of Queens with all of my belongings in tow.

Rolling in and out of huge asphalt craters, my suitcases jostled my already pained arm. It had only been three or so hours since I’d reset the dislocated joint against my fire escape.

Blood dripped from a split along my hairline, mingling with sweat and city rainwater. At this point, I felt like a drowned cat and probably smelled like a wet dog. Super, awesomely attractive, right?

Bracing myself against the wall of the nearest building, I pulled a flask out of the interior pocket of my jacket and took a swig. The flask was light pink with the words “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” emblazoned on the side. It filled me with a dark sense of glee and irony every time I used it. I nicked it from one of those chain party supply stores a few months back, which I supposed could be my version of fun.

The whiskey burned as it went down but as it hit my stomach it helped to warm my rain-soaked bones.

I began moving again. As I wove in and out of the misshapen piles in the alleyway, I felt the hair prickle on the back of my neck. It felt like I had a curious pair of eyes, tracking my every move and staring me down. I ignored my most basic instinct to turn around and investigate and my training kicked in instead. My eyes swept the alleyway ahead of me, monitoring the shadows, ears open and head down. I checked every shiny surface to see the reflection behind me. Empty alleyways are all that I was shown. So I shoved aside my intrusive paranoia and started whistling tunelessly as I moved. I’d felt that prickle for days and nothing had come of it.

In front of me, business lights filtered through the rain, casting a glow over the stone walls. Wet, sputtering and a little drunk, it only made sense that I was the target of some less friendly men who had stationed themselves outside of a local dive bar. They jeered and reached out at me. “Piss off you assholes, I’m not in the mood.”

Their demented shouts ranged from demands that I take off my clothes, false coos asking me if I needed their help to warm up and jokes about them being so good in bed women were jumping at the chance and willing to move in with them immediately to lock it down.

The rain got harder as I clenched my fist, glaring daggers at them and trying to subtly move faster. Everything about my body language screamed 'don't fuck with me', but it's hard to be intimidating when you're a generous 5'3. They advanced anyways and with a woosh, they all got tossed back into the brick wall, hard. The crack of a few skulls echoed down the empty alley, interrupted only by their groans as a few immediately came to.

The tingling on the back of my neck got more intense, this time joined by a fuzzy feeling alarm in the back of my brain. I hustled along, eager to get the hell out of Queens. I hadn't taken more than three steps when I heard him. “Woah, what was that? I webbed up those guys back there, they won't be able to move for a few hours. What was that though, can you like manipulate energy or is this outside the realm of earthly physics? Are you an alien? Or a mutant maybe? Or..."

Without looking up I sent another blast towards the overly excited voice and immediately heard an oomph followed by the sound of a body rushing towards the pavement. Or, rather, a dumpster.

“Hey not cool,” said the guy, poking his head up and out of the dumpster.

I groaned, immediately recognizing the mask, despite it being covered in what looked a lot like smashed avocado on the left side of the heroes head. Spider-Man.

Pushing my bags together, around my feet, I bound them to myself and alighted on the nearest rooftop, gently floating upward. I figured the enhanced cat was already out of the bag with the current company, so to speak. I ran along the flat roofs of the decrepit, abandoned buildings with still no destination in mind but out.

“Wait up, where are you going, stop! We're friends now right? It's rude to ignore your friends, and I'm the friendliest of friends, you know. Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man and all...” he babbled on lamely, his voice fading in and out as he swung between buildings, keeping up as I hopped from roof to roof.

“Buzz off buggy”, I grumbled before sending another shot his way.

“You’re really bad at paying attention to where I am, aren’t you” Spidey suddenly whispered in my ear. I shrieked and came to a halt, dropping my luggage next to me as I sat to dangle my feet off the ledge of whatever shitty building I was on now. As expected, that lanky ass fool sat down right next to me.

“So, where are you going, miss uh… strange power lady?”

“I don’t kno-” I cut myself off and looked at him strangely. “Wait, why are you even here?”

“Well funny story," he huffed out, looking over at me. His masked eyes contracted as he continued to just look at me in silence for several minutes. I was seconds away from physically shoving him off of the building. For someone who apparently couldn't keep his mouth shut when I wanted him to, he was as silent and one of those monks now when I actually wanted to hear his whiny voice. Then, just as I was about to snap, he lifted his chin and squared his shoulders.

"Have you ever heard of the Avengers?”

Like any normal person on the planet, I obviously had. I may not have been in New York while it was being leveled by aliens over a decade ago, but a person would have to be seriously deprived of outside stimuli to not know who the Avengers were.

Instead of speaking to the impertinent, entirely too perky Avenger at my side, I just glared, sending a message loud enough that even the most inept individual would comprehend me.

“Woah, woah, don’t shoot! You could be like, a really weird and reclusive alien for all I know at this point. The boss didn’t exactly give me all the details when he sent me out to trail you. I don’t even know your name, which tells me that we actually don’t know a whole lot about you…,” he trailed off his rambling as he finally realized I was now staring at him expectantly, waiting to get a word in edgewise.

“My name is Kaida, and I’m not a good person. Also, thanks for the invitation to join your little cult, but I’m going to have to pass.” I stood to leave and find shelter for tonight when all of a sudden a schnick sounded and webbing surrounded my foot, holding me in place.

That sneaky little son of a bitch.

“No can do, we’re going to talk this one out. Either you agree to come in and meet the team or you get to sit here all night and listen to me ramble about them and what ridiculously stupid things we’ve all been up to in the past few months. Your call… Kaida.” He said my name as though it could take form, leap up and bite him.

“Okay Spider, I see you want to play hardball. You take that mask off and I’ll come with you to ‘meet the team’ or whatever touchy-feely bullshit y’all are into over there. But I’m not agreeing without some kind of skin in the game other than my own.” I lifted my chin, triumphantly, secure in the knowledge that he would never reveal his identity to a complete stranger, especially while various factions of the government and private entities were trying to round up enhanced individuals.

Spidey scoffed. “That’s it? It’s not like I was going to leave it on once we got to the tower anyways so, here you go I guess,” and he ripped away his mask as though it didn’t faze him in the slightest.

He was… younger than I had expected. Cute, in a safe, boring schoolboy kind of way.

“What are you, twelve??” I all but shouted at him. There’s no way this kid was the real deal, a bona fide Avenger that had helped save numerous lives, my own included if you count what happened just a few years back.

“I’m twenty-two, thanks though. If I’m twelve, I’ve gotta say you’re a toddler. Granted, a toddler with wicked skills but it’s not like you’re even really an adult at this point, are you? Why aren’t you with your pare-.”

“For one thing, they’re dead. Secondly, I’m twenty but I guarantee you I’ve seen shit that you can’t really even comprehend. Even outside of all the crazy whack alien bullshit you all seem to be attracting. It really ages a person, or so I’ve heard.”

“Oh look at you, pulling the big bad ‘I’m so tough because I’m an orphan and my life wasn’t sunshine and roses’ act. Literally, everyone has bad shit happen to them. From what I’ve just seen and from what we’ve caught on security monitors, you’re wickedly talented and could actually use your powers to help others. Unless you’re too much of a coward, I know we do deal with ‘crazy whack aliens’ and all, but it shouldn’t be hard for a big kid like yourself, huh?”

I had half a mind to blow him off the roof right then and there. Rage swirled in the pit of my gut so violently, I might have vomited had I eaten at all in the past day or so. The wind picked up and began buffeting around the Spider guy and myself, throwing debris from decrepit roof and buildings towards us. All of the shrapnel conveniently avoided my person, but Spidey was dancing back and forth like a puppet on a string.

Deep breaths Kaida, deep breaths. We wouldn’t want another Wizard of Oz-esque incident. Again. I often found myself talking to myself in different perspectives to calm down. Anger, improperly channeled was a very dangerous thing for me, and honestly, I was being a brat just like he was. No need to level an entire city block just for this one intrusive, presumptuous asshat who dressed up like a fucking spider. I wasn’t about to tell him that though.

The wind died down almost immediately. Until it didn’t.

Not a minute later, the biggest bolt of lightning I’d ever seen struck a building a block or so away, no doubt short-circuiting every device plugged in at that residence. Two seconds later there was a solid thunk and next to Spider-Man loomed perhaps the most handsome being in the known universe, Thor. King of Asgard.

“You hit your panic button Man of Spiders. Are you in need of assistance… carrying bags?” Thor looked at you, tied down, and your bags tossed askew, then back at Spidey. Quizzically, he opened his palm and sent a burst of lightning up into the sky, as if looking for something. “All seems to be in perfectly good spirits here, no strange magics… so.”

“Listen, man, two minutes ago she was literally shaking the building so hard I thought we were all going down. I just don’t know how… all I did was ask her some questions, maybe play hardball with her a little,” he just shrugged at the god apologetically.

“Hi, I exist too, and I can speak for myself,” I asserted, repositioning my body so I wasn’t standing quite so hunched over. “We,” I continued, looking at Spidey, “would love your assistance in getting my bags back to wherever this team inspection or meeting is supposed to happen.” Anything to get inside and secure, before I lost it completely.

“As you wish, Lady of the Winds,” Thor almost yelled, thrusting a cane into the sky.

“No, Thor wai-.”

Before the insect could finish whatever he was trying to say, we were engulfed in a kaleidoscope of bright colors and rushed away in the blink of an eye.

So much for having a normal, Wednesday evening.

If you’d like to be tagged in future chapters (I have 28 written) drop me a message or reblog this!! As always, reblogs and comments are appreciated!

[writingkeepsmewhole]

Buried

Okay first thing I want to apologize for not posting. My computer didn’t want to load the internet but today it wants to work so expect a few fics today. I've still been writing but couldn't edit them to post them. But enough about me unto the fun stuff.

This is the 11th part of A Touch. I’m shocked it has the meany parts honestly haha. This is a longer one it’s almost 5000 words. Don’t ask haha. Anyways... Reader goes on a run with Negan to an abandoned school where they get trapped in a storage room.

Negan X Reader

Warnings: Language. Mention of abortion. Rape mention.

Let me know if you want to be tagged. @dead-head-joker @cryiner @collette04 @catlovescats02-blog @blumenkind72 @frozenhuntress67

Part 1 Part 10

I woke up to feeling sore but rested. Like it was the first time I slept in days. I smile to myself realizing it was. Turning my head I was not shocked to find the bed empty. Negan not the one for cuddling.

‘Why would he cuddle me anyways?’ I ask myself sitting up.

Still feeling a bit dizzy I closed my eyes to keep the room from spinning. I opened them as soon as I heard the door open.

Tanya stood there with a basket full of something. I couldn’t tell because it was covered by a cloth.

“Oh, I didn’t know anyone was in here.” She says looking shocked.

“Don’t worry. I wasn’t meant to be here.” I say standing up and moving to the door.

“Is Negan here? We were meant to have breakfast together.”

“Honestly I don’t know where he is. I just woke up. Feel free to look around. You are his wife after all.” I say moving around her.

Before I could walk away she grabs my arm stopping me in the hallway.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.” I say the smell of something sweet filling my nose. Most likely whatever was in her basket.

“Are you sleeping with Negan? I mean it’s fine if you are, I just wonder why you can stay in his room and the rest of us can’t.”

“No. I’m not sleeping with him and has for sleeping in his room. I don’t know. Never bothered to ask.” I say knowing I would most likely wouldn't like the answer.

“Oh okay. Well I’ll let you go. Tell Negan I’m waiting for him if you see him.”

“Will do.” I say smiling at her and walking away realizing that’s the first time I held a conversation with one of Negan’s wives. Also realizing that’s the longest conversation I have had with anyone without feeling hollow.

I shake my head to clear my thoughts and move towards my room to change clothes. I decided on a shower as well.

I was halfway to the showers when someone grabbed my arm and pulled me into an empty room. I couldn't scream because of the hand on my mouth.

“Scream and see what happens.” Says the voice that has haunted me for the past few days. I could feel the stab of something digging into my lower stomach.

I nodded as a response having no intentions of screaming. I wanted away from Mark as soon as possible.

“Now I want you to listen very carefully. Understand?” He asks removing his hand from my mouth.

When I didn’t say anything he dug the knife into my stomach enough to make it sting.

“Yes.” I gasp out.

“Good. Now I want you to do something for me. If you do it. I’ll make sure you get back to your group and we’ll never see each other every again.” He whimpers his hot breath on my ear and neck making my heart race with fear.

“What is it?” I ask my voice shaking.

“Negan is going to take you on a trip today while you are gone I want you to make sure he doesn't come back.”

“How-.” I stop talking when he grabs my hair yanking my head back.

“I told you to listen not talk.” He says glaring down at me.

“I’m going to give you my little friend here to help you out.” He says dragging the blade across my stomach making me whimper.

“I don’t care how you do it. Use your imagination. Just make sure Negan dies today. If not well lets just say you won’t like when I decided to hurt someone.” He says smirking down at me.

“Understand?”

I nod feeling like I was about to pass out.

“Good. Make me proud.” He says kissing me roughly while putting the knife in my pocket.

In a matter of minutes I was threatened, assaulted and left alone.

I stepped out of the room a while after Mark left. My heart was racing but I could feel myself start to shut down again.

Feeling the knife in my pocket I tired to think about what I was going to do.  If I killed Negan it would be a all out war. If I didn't Mark would do something to someone I cared about or even myself.

I walked to the showers thoughts filling my head.

Even though I know that this should be easy. Negan was the enemy right? The bad guy the villain of this story. I've killed for a lot less.

Even trying to talk myself into doing it, to get close and end it, I was pulling away from the idea. My chest hurting along with my head. Every time I thought of killing him it felt wrong. My mind going to the nights spent in his room. To the gentle way he would pull my face up and make me look at him. To his bellowing laugh and the way I felt happier around him.

I decided to do nothing for now. That I might not even see Negan today. My pleas were ignored when I stepped outside to hang clothes. There leaning on the table bat in hand stood Negan In all his glory.

"There you are angel. I was wondering when you were ever gonna show up." he says grinning and strolling up to me.

"Why?" I ask clearing my throat when my voice cracked.

"Well we are going on a road trip remember?" he says smirking.

"Oh I forgot."

"Forgot? Well I'll be sure to make you remember it at least."

"What are we going to do?"

"That's for me to know." he say winking.

"Come on we're burning daylight." he says walking around me and towards the building.

When he realizes I'm not following him he spins around to face me.

"What the hell is the hold up?" he asks twirling Lucile around his hand

"I don't want to go." I say not wanting to tell Negan.  I've already gotten one of his men killed I don't want to do it again.

"Why the fuck not? " he asks walking back to me.

I answer him with a shrug realizing that I'm too nervous to lie to him. I curse at myself knowing I'm not normally like this.

"Well shit.  You are going anyway." he says leaning to the side a bit.

Swallowing I nod my teeth digging into my lip.

Once again I find myself alone with Negan a chance to harm him. Instead I sat still as he tied a blindfold over my eyes blocking out the world and locking me in my thoughts.

I could hear the truck start and the rumble as we started down the street.

Hearing a scratching noise i turned my head towards the sound.

"i gotta shave this shit." Negan mumbles to himself. I stay silent letting it pull me into my head.

My heart was racing telling me to run. I didn't want to be here didn't want to drive towards my choice.

By the end of they day i would either become a murderer or i would become the victim.

I almost laughed at the thought. I was already a murderer. Nicks face in my minds eye.

Feeling a hand on my knee i jump jerking away quickly as my heart pounds.

"Relax darling. Just taking a drive." negan says chuckling softly

I sit still trying to look normal. I realize how tense i am. The tightness in my shoulders telling me that.  Lean back on the truck bench and take a breath.

I could feel the truck rattle as we cross a bridge. The smell and sound of the creek under us calming me a bit. I take a deep breath resting my head on the window. I never thought I'd see the day where Negan was this silent but i welcomed the silence.

I felt my mind drift into the darkness, the feel of Marks knife digging into me making me jump. It reminded me of the feel of the serrated blade digging into my back as the governor touched me. Every time i moved it would cut into my skin leaving faded scars. The governor's face and hands replaced for Nick's him pinning me to the wall. The feel of the rough brick digging into face. I screamed for help but my voice wouldn't work. I tried to move fight back but I couldn't. My body wouldn't listen my limbs were too heavy to move.  

Turn my face away from Nick i looked out the window seeing someone standing there. It was to dark to see who but i tried to scream for help.  It took me countless tries to get out just a small whimper. The person slapped the glass making a light shine from above them. I know why i didn't recognize them at first. It was Negan but he was covered in blood. His face bruised and broken. I tried to reach for him but large hands stopped me. I looked up to see the governor smirking down at me.

"He can't save you this time." Nick said as he took what he wanted from me.

I woke up with a gasp trying to fight off whoever was touching me. A blindfold wrapped around my eyes

"Easy angel calm down." a rough voice says followed by light blinding my sight.

Squinting my eyes I blink to clear my vision making the person in front of me out. Negan's bearded face filling my gaze.

"Negan?" I ask my voice cracking followed by a tear running down my cheek.

"I'm fine." I say quickly wiping my face.

Jumping out of the truck Negan has to catch me from falling.

"Whoa there." he says laughing.

"Thanks." I say moving around him to see where we are.

We were standing in a large parking lot only some of the places filled with long abandoned cars. A large structure stood next to us. Looking up, Lincoln High School was wrote in white letters.

"A school?" i ask Negan looking at him.

"I saw it from the road a while back been meaning to come over and check it out." he says stepping up the curb and walking to the glass doors.

"Wanna do the honors or shall I?" he asks gesturing towards the door.

"How am i supposed to get through a glass door with no weapon?" i asks holding my hands up and walking to him.

"Here is a tip when breaking into schools. No electricity." he says grabbing the door handle.

"No lock." he says pulling the door open.

"Well that's interesting." i say stepping thru the doorway.

"You are not curious about how i know that are you darling?"

"Not really." i say shrugging.

Walking into the dark building the only light coming from the windows I walk into what used to be the front office.

It was what you expected. Overturned chairs papers scattered everywhere. Drawrs pulled open.

"You know there is nothing here right?" i ask Negan looking at him.

He was leaning against the door frame bat laid over his shoulder.

"Where is your sense of adventure angel?"

I only shrug as an answer. Partly because my mind was foggy with sleep and the other was the guilt in my jut. I allowed myself to get close to him and now I was the tool for his murderer.

Feeling the sting behind my eyes I quickly leave the room threw the side door leading to the hallway.

I walk down the hall well aware of the sound of Negan's boot steps behind me.

I fall into the daze of placing one foot in front of the other.

I jump when something grabs my arm spinning me to face them. I look up meeting Negan's eyes.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he asks loudly making me jump again my heart racing.

"Nothing. I'm fine." I say my voice cracking.

"We both know that's a fucking lie so you might as well tell me." he says standing straight to tower over me.

Feeling rage in my veins i jerk my arm away from him.

"Don't treat me like one of your men Negan or like some bitch that will cower under you. I told you i didn't want to be here but you forced me to go so forgive me if i'm not jumping for joy." i say clenching my jaw and moving to walk down one of the staire ways beside us.

I knew what i looks like. Some crazy woman who couldn't control herself but Negan didn't know what was going on in my head. Maybe if he thought I was crazy he would stay away from me and i wouldn't be put in these situations.

Remembering what Mark said about if i came back with Negan i would regret it.

Hearing a scratching noise behind one of the doors i see a walker rubbing itself on the windows in the classroom it having no idea im here its eyes not in its skull. Seeing no need to deal with it i keep walking.  

"Y/N!" Negan yells from behind me.

It takes one look to know he's mad.

"Go away Negan. Your making it worse." i say turning around fighting the want to run.

I wouldn't run away from Negan this would end bad of i did.

I settle for walking into what looked like a kitchen. Weaving around the counters and tables i find the storage room. Seeing the ceiling bowing down the only thing holding it up is a shelf makes me think no one has chanced going in there.

Ducking under the fallen beem i don't have time to take in the dark room before i once again hear Negan.

Sighing move into the darkness.

"Angel you might as well tell me what's got you ll jumpy." Negan saya making me jump.

"I told you i'm fine." i say turning to face him.

"Your not fine!" he yells extending his arm Lucille smashing into the door frame.

At first only the sound of the hit filled the air it was replaced by something creaking then a loud crack as the ceiling gave away.

I felt something hard smack into my body knocking me down to the floor. I realized it was Negan pushing me out of the way his large frame shielding mine. I could feel his breath on my neck and practically hear my heart. Pushing himself up on his arms he looked down at me.

"You okay?" he asks it to dark in the room to see his face.

"I think so." I say my voice shaky.

Getting up he helps me stand. The past seconds letting my sight adjust to the dark room.

It wasn't as dark as i once thought. It was the pantry for the school the shelves ransacked. There was a bit  light shining in through a cloth of some kind. Standing up on my toes i pulled the cloth it tearing with ease. I jump back when a hand falls down with the cloth it clearly a shirt. With it out of the way i quickly realize that the door is gone. Nothing but rubble. The light coming from a small hole in what used to be the ceiling.

"Well what kind of mess have we gotten into?" Negan says from behind me.

"We have to get out." i say my mind jumping to what would happen when we don't come back. When Negan don't return. Simon would surely take over. He would quickly kill everyone in Alexandria.

I feel my heart pound so loud my blood rushing. Trying to breathe i panic when no air fills my lungs it getting stuck in my throat.

Grabbing my throat i try to breath my lungs starting to burn.

Being pulled into a hard chest i hear a mumble. It talking moment for me to understand it's Negan telling me to breathe.

"Come on Angel breathe." He says making me look up at him.

I watch his chest rise and fall him trying to help me I follow him. Taking a breath nothing fills my lungs but i keep mimicking Negan.

When warm sweet air fills my lungs i choke coughing loudly.

"That's my girl." Negan's gruff voice fills the room.

I wrap my arms around him shocking him as i feel hot tears run down my cheeks. I don't know if it was the lack of oxygen or being trapped or the fact Negan is always somehow the one to save me but I brake down sobbing loudly.

Feeling Negan's hands on my arms I expect him to push me away. I feel him run one hand down my arm it wrapping around my lower back the other hand softly stroking my hair. That's how we stayed Negan holding me as I sobbed into his white T-shirt.

Everything weighing on my mind slowly slip away as if Negan was sucking the pain and worries from me. Him like a magnet pulling the fears and stress out of my mind.

I don't know when it happened but by the time I stopped crying we were sitting on the floor Negan's arms wrapped around me. I was sitting between his legs my head tucked into his collarbone.

I knew it was a stupid idea but i stayed there wrapped up in him.

My face was wet with tears but I didn't bother wiping them off. Taking a shaking breath I sat up not looking at Negan.

"Care to explain darlin."

"I can't." I say my voice cracking

"Why the hell not?"

"I'll get someone else killed if I do. That's all I'm good for."

"Who told you that?"

"I can just see it. Im cursed."

"I don't believe in none of that bullshit."

"I guess you wouldn't would you? You've never been close to anyone." I say looking at him.

It dark for the most part but not dark enough to hide him clenching his jaw.

I dig the knife from my pocket and hand it to him. Once again Im glad for the dim light.

"Where did you get this?"

"I won't tell you. I can't have more blood on my hands."

"What blood is that?"

I snuffle moving away from him to sit on the floor.

"Go on tell me."

"I got Nick killed." I* say curling up.

"Maggie is dead because of me. I ruined to many lives to forget."

"I find that hard to believe Angel." He says it being the last thing that's said for a while.

I once again go over what Mark said and what I could do. My heart racing feeling myself being pushed into a corner. It reminding me when I was in highschool and all my choices were taken from me. I swallow wrapping my arms around myself at the thought. The only thing that helped me get threw it was talking.

I take a deep breath looking at the wall. I decided to say my peace knowing that I will at least told someone my side of the story.

"Have you ever done something wrong but you keep doing it?" I ask Negan earning a playful “Yeah.“

"Remember how I told you I worked at a hospital before? I didn't ever tell you how I got started working there. I've always found myself in trouble from a young age. My parents were CEOs of different companies. On top of that they went to every charity event in town. They cared more about there image then me. I only got attention when I was in trouble. Well despite that I got good grades did whatever extra classes they paid for. Until I turned 16.

They lost everything the money, house, friends, everything. For the first time in my life they were there all the time. At first I thought I was happy until I realized that I was less wanted then I thought. But what did I expect from parents who only pretend to care at birthdays." I say sighing laying my head back.

I felt  I could breathe again but it was easy to talk about my parents. I gave up on them a long time ago.

"I fell in love with my teacher." I say earning a chuckle.

"Pardon me but did you say you fell in love with your fucking teacher?" Negan asks laughing.

I didn't see what was funny him laughing like I told a inside joke.

"Not even that I had sex with him." I say rolling my head to look at him.

"I was a troubled teen and I think at first Andrew really wanted to help but he was fresh out of college and I needed an escape from home." I say looking at the hole in the ceiling.

"What happened?" Negan asks sounding like he really wanted to know.

"I got pregnant." I say swallowing the lump in my throat.

"Did you lose it?"

"No, worse I killed her. After everything my family lost their image still mattered. They-. " I take a shaky breath clenching my fist.

"I was under 18 I had no say. They locked me in a room where a doctor drugged me and tied me down as he cut my baby girl out of me." I say not hiding the anger in my voice.

"She was three months old and everyone dared to tell me that she wasn't alive yet. And our world now is meant to be the messed up one." I say wiping the tears off my cheeks.

"After that I started to volunteer at the hospital. Try to convince people to keep their babies give them up is better than chopping them into bits. I never left even after everything hit the fan I didn't rush to my parents house. I stayed. I swore to myself I wouldn't be responsible for someone else's death. Not again." I say my cheeks wet but no tears falling.

I was looking into the darkness so I jumped when I felt Negan place his hand on my knee.

"I'm sorry Angel. No one should have to go through that."

"It's okay. I've kept my promise to myself even in all this mess." I say smiling at him. My throat was still tight but I felt better than I have in a while.

"I've never told anyone that."

"Don't worry your secret is safe with me." he says grinning.

"So you mean to tell me you ain't ever killed anyone."

"Not before Nick no. I've had plenty of chances. When the Governor did what he did I didn't stop him. "I say swallowing and clenching my jaw.

"Why the hell not?" Negan Ask his voice booming.

"The only way would have been to kill him. He placed a knife in reach to taunt me. I couldn't bring myself to fight back. I guess I thought I deserve it." I say wrapping my arms around myself despite the sweet covering my skin.

"Shit darling you need to realize how much of a fucking badass you are." he says making me chuckle.

"How did you get badass out of all that?"

"Because despite all that shit you are still here fighting to survive. You got stronger from your own hell."

"I don't think so. I think I’m weaker than ever." I say looking up at him. He grabs my face with both hands keeping me from looking away.

"I think you can do anything you have the balls to back it up."

"How?"

"Because even though you went through hell and back you still do the right thing. You got guts." He says grinning.

"Not really I got Nick-."

"I killed Nick. I liked it too. He touched something that belonged to me I would happily do it again."

I blush looking away with my eyes only not sure what he meant.

"Don't worry Angel." he says stroking my cheek.

"Daddy will take care of Mark." he says making my blush deeper.

"Don't kill him, please." I beg softly.

"I have better plans for him. Now what do you say about getting out of this room?"

"Okay."

"Peachy." he says smirking and standing up.

"Come on Angel I want to get home for a fucking shower." he says pulling me up.

With Negan's help I climbed over the fallen darby. I find a blacked out window that I pop open with the knife.

We both crawl outside it feeling 20 degrees cooler than in the room.

"I gotta take this shit off." Negan says pilling his jacket off.

"Want me to carry it?" I ask holding out my hand my eyes jumping to his tattoos.

"Would you do that for little old me?" he says holding up the jacket.

"Well I wasn't going to say anything but you are reaching what 70?"

I ask smiling earning a glare from Negan but his mouth was twisted into a smirk.

"Watch that fucking mouth." he says pointing Lucille at me.

"Yes sir." I say glad for the light mood it was easier to joke with Negan.

Taking a breath I headed around the school back to the parking lot Negan walking behind me jacket and bat in hand.

"Answer me something Angel." He says when we get to the truck him throwing his jacket in but Lucille placed on his shoulder.

"Okay." I say reputting my hair up.

"If you don't want to kill anyone why tell me about Mark?"

"Because if I didn't he would hurt Alexa."

"That's it?"

"Mmhmm." I say nodding.

"Fuck you are so good." he says his voice husky. Him saying it like he was talking dirty in bed.

I blush at the shiver running threw me.

"We should probably go." I say chewing my cheek.

"Yeah let's get the fuck out of here." he says biting his lip.

Ignoring my female hormones I walk around the truck getting in. Reaching for the blind fold I'm stopped when Negan grabs my arm.

"Don't bother. We are to far away from Alexandria for you to find you way back. The only thing you'll learn is how to get home." he says making me smile for trusting me. Also because he said it like the sanctuary was my home now. I guess it was.

[boogiewrites]

Choking On Sapphires 12

Title & Song: Fireside

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Genevieve (OFC)

Word Count: 2300+

Summary: Genevieve is a force to be reckoned with. An intelligent, independent and brutal businesswoman. She’s been intrigued by Alfie since she met him. But where should she draw the line between business and pleasure now that they are working so closely together?

A/N: Every chapter of this story will have a song to work as the title and as a soundtrack. Chapter song is Fireside by Arctic Monkeys. The songs give a good background to the stories and have some further insight into the characters. Positive feedback is MUCH appreciated!

Part 1: Thieves & Kings.- Pt. 2 Conquest - Pt. 3 Nail In My Coffin - Pt. 4 - 60 Feet Tall Pt. 5 I Bet You Look Good On The Dance Floor Pt. 6 Stop The World Pt 7 Making A Fool Of You Pt 8 L'Amour et la violence Pt 9 Play With Fire Pt 10 Black Treacle Pt 11 These Stones Will Shout Pt 13 Trouble

My Masterlist.

Tags! Let me know if you’d like to be added or dropped! Thanks!

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You dream of the sea again. This time he isn't in it. You panic because it feels like he should be. You feel like you're reaching as far as you can to search for him and as the waves pick up, a storm on the horizon moves in, killing the blue sky and turning it purple. When the lightning spreads out across the sky with a crack you wake up. These are dreams similar to the ones you had when he had his house blown up last time. So this time you know something has to be wrong. You have Claire check all your security, again. She knows there's no point in fighting you on it, she does as you command. You're met with an early morning light greeting you as you walk to the window. You sigh heavily and know you won't stay sane if you don't do something. So as you had from time to time on matters like these, you call Polly. You explain the dreams and the changes, she tells you all you need to hear in her omniscient way.

"If the night chooses to whisper something to you, dear, never ignore it. It doesn't speak to everyone and it never speaks without purpose." she pauses, sensing your hesitancy. "Do you care if the man lives or dies?" she asks plainly.

"Yes." you say without hesitation.

"Then go to him." she says sternly.

You have Joseph fetch the car and you make yourself decent. You put a pistol into your deep coat pocket and wait anxiously as your car carries you to the warehouse. You stand in the center of two massive brick buildings, hidden from the street. You gnaw at your lip and press your back against a blank spot of wall. You felt that sickening feeling in your gut. You shut your eyes and breathe, trying to take in everything around you for a moment. You know he's supposed to be here but you don't know if he is. This is where your mind told you to go and so you followed, continuing acting on Polly's advice.

The man wouldn't have stuck out to you with his hands in his pockets, hat over his eyes, shuffling with his head down towards the double doors. But his coat was far too expensive, one pocket sagging lower than the other. His shoes barely dirty. You knew he didn't belong here. And once he shifted his shoulder, his hand moving in his pocket, you felt like a hound picking up a scent.

He moves into the warehouse, you follow, dashing across the large space between the buildings. You slide in through the crack of the doors before they close again with the men entering and exiting. The hard look on your face kept the men from addressing you as you tiptoed to see what direction the man went in. You see Ollie at the end of a row and run to him, asking him if he's seen anyone who matches the description. As you're clarifying if Alfie was in a meeting or expecting anyone, the man walks past you, you're hidden between a row of barrels. You freeze and whisper to Ollie that this was the guy in question.

You peek around the corner, your hand on your gun in your pocket, much like the man you were following. You hear Alfie's voice but you don't see him yet. The man hesitates at the end of the row and looks around, you hurriedly move out of his line of sight to hide again, the gun outside of your pocket by your side. You move quickly around a grouping of barrels and exhale heavily with relief as the man comes into sight again. He cocks it, you can hear the snap like a radar blip in the white noise of the room. You hear Alfie's voice drawing closer.

It's now just you and the man that you can see, so you draw your gun and aim. Alfie's holding his glasses in one hand, papers in another, in a seemingly important conversation with the large bald man you'd seen multiple times now. He doesn't even think to look up as he rounds the corner, and why would he in his own bakery? The man takes a deep breath, and so do you. You see the glint of the shine off his pistol, knowing now you have full reason to move on him. You creep out from behind the barrels to get a clear and clean shot. As his gun reaches the level of his chest, gripped tight in hand, you shoot him in the back of the head. Your aim pointed up towards the ceiling so if the bullet did exit, it wouldn't blow his warehouse to hell by hitting some barrel. Deny the rums existence all you like, that bread will still blow if you light it on fire.

Alfie draws his gun and points it at you since you are the one who fired and the only one standing in his field of vision currently. He stomps closer to you, eyes lit with misdirected fire.

"WHAT THE FUCK YA THINK YA DOIN'?" he shouts, one hand out in exasperation, the other still point the gun at you. "Fuckin' shootin' in here? You gone fuckin' mad?" he asks, his eyes wide and his mouth open from shouting.

You hadn't even notice Ollie come up behind you and you jump at the sound of his voice, lowering your hands. "That man was going to shoot you. I saw it." he says with no surprise but loudly. Alfie switches his sight back to you.

"Fuckin' 'ell..." he groans. "In my own fuckin' shop." he spits out angrily.

You put the gun back in your pocket and stare blankly at Alfie to let him take stock of the situation. He follows you with his gun, you believe unintentionally as you approach the body. You remove the man's hat and grab him by the hair and show his face to Alfie. He's let the gun lay heavy in his hand by his side.

"You recognize him?" you ask, going through his pockets as you roll him over.

"Can't say I do." he shakes his head, his brow furrowed, eyes worried. You find only a piece of paper with a time and address on it. You hand it over to Alfie as you step over the body.

"He has grass on his shoes. He came from outside the city. We can assume who reached out to hire him." you say quietly, leaning into him to speak.

"Excuse us Adam." he says to the man who had been walking with him, dismissing him. "Ollie get him out of here." he says, his eyes darting about. You didn't think he was in shock, certainly not the first time a gun was pulled on him, certainly not the last. "And you," he points his finger just inches from your face. "You come wif me." he mumbles, walking to his office.

You walk in silence, he's rubbing his beard so you know he's thinking. He sits at his desk, you sit in the chair in front of it without command.

"How'd you know about this?" he says with his focused eyes half hidden under an aggressive brow.

"I had a dream." you say reluctantly but honestly, your jaw tightening in hesitation to share. His face switches from aggressive to something more curious as his chin pushes up in your direction in question. "Sometimes I have dreams that seem to act as a precursor to something big occurring. Doesn't have to be something bad, like this. It can be something good as well." you shrug, sidetracking yourself subconsciously and pulling yourself back on track. "I had one of these about you." you state matter of factly, meeting his gaze again. "I had a certain feeling that something bad was going to happen to you. Much like I did when Horne attacked your house." you explain softly, you clasp your hands together in your lap so you don't fidget your fingers.

"You had a dream like this when he attacked my house?" he asks, the aggression now completely gone from his face.

"Yes." you nod slowly. "I didn't know you like I do now so I felt I couldn't assert myself into the situation directly." you elaborate, slowly and articulately to make yourself sound more certain and less like you were trying to sell him something. You were used to people, especially men, historically not taking any mention of dreams seriously.

"And you had these dreams again? Did they tell ya where to go?" his voice has that trace of uncertainty still holding on, waiting to hear the right thing to believe you completely.

"No. It'd be a lot easier if they worked that way." you let out a soft huff of a laugh and tuck your hair behind your ear. "They're more symbolic. I knew you were supposed to be here today, because you told me," you state obviously, trying to add to the credibility of your actions. "So I came here to find you."

"And how'd you know who to shoot?"

"That certain feeling again. I think most call it a gut feeling." you say with a frowning micro expression, hoping he would accept the honest answer. "I saw his coat was too nice, too new to be a usual worker. I followed him in and asked Ollie if you had any appointments coming in, he said no. The man passed again and I could see he had a gun so I followed him." you end with a sigh and meet his eyes again, your shoulders slumping.

"Fuck me." he gruffs out quietly, hands resting together in a fidgeting bundle in front of his mouth. "You're tellin' the truth." he states as if he's annoyed by the fact. "I can feel a lie and you ain't lyin', mate." he says with an unreadable expression.

"Of course I'm not." you say with a hint of offense. "Why would I tell you this if it wasn't true? It's not like it sounds credible. If I were lying, I would've come up with a much better answer wouldn't I?" you say, pursing your lips, your brows dropping down, your eyes wide but in honesty and not manipulation.

"Do you find yourself having to save others like this often?" he says, his voice hitting you with relief.

"No." you shake your head, expressing your own disbelief. "You've been keeping me very busy." you say with a soft grin, trying to not give a reason to lose his calm demeanor. He nods, in acknowledgment, his face now set in a thoughtful expression, his eyes polite but distracted."I'll have to insist you start paying me for this kind of work if you keep this up." you lean your head towards him. You're sure to meet his eyes with a kind smile as his attitude filled face shoots its eyes at you.

"I might as fuckin' well, right?" he finally breaks with a laugh, shaking his head, closing his eyes for a few heavy seconds. He sighs and his fingers tap the desk for a few seconds in thought, gathering himself.

"You should check the handwriting." you exhale, your adrenaline fading. Motioning to the piece of paper you'd handed him. "Or I can do it for you? I've done it before, that is." one side of your mouth draws back showing you understand the weight of your suggestion. " If you don't mind me seeing your books." you drop your voice for the last bit. You move your chin down to show him that you understood if he did not. His brow furrows just slightly, his eyes looking at you from under them as you see him hold his tension in his lips. He raises from his chair.

"It's very important to have trust in partnerships like ours, innit?" he speaks slowly and deliberately as he moves across the room, going to retrieve the book of signatures. "So this is trust, Genevieve, yeah?" His eyes stay on you as he speaks and walks back to his desk. You nod clearly and calmly at his statement in understanding.

"I appreciate your placement of it in me. I'm relieved to hear of its existence." you say with a bow of your head, taking the book from his hand before he sits back down in his chair.

"With me you're two for two on those dreams of yours and those are very good odds, aren't they?" he shakes his finger at you. "I'm gonna keep betting on ya if ya helpin' me not get fuckin' murdered, yeah? he reaches the piece of paper under investigation to you and you gingerly take it.

"Why would I allow someone to get rid of you, Alfie? What would I fill my days with if someone succeeded in killing you? I'd be lost." you let the huge grin show through on your whole face, your head down, chest bouncing slightly with a low chuckle. Holding the slip in one hand, your finger already scanning the first page. He trusts you and he isn't even entirely sure why at moments like these, but here he was, compelled as usual. It wasn't the first time he'd heard of a woman having prophetic dreams, he just hadn't thought he'd ever come across one who would have them about him. You'd saved his life twice now and with asking nothing of any consequence back from him. This is really what lead him to believe you despite the interference of reason. He blinks slowly at you, his head slightly tilted in curiosity at your abilities in combination with that devastating smile.

Pt 13 Trouble

[bluboothalassophile]

Hey blu❤️i love ur RaeX fics so much, like you have your own style of writing but still manage to have them be realistic and in character, which is amazing💫I can’t wait to read more fics!!! (also can i request an underground boxer!Jason who’s reckless towards his health and nurse!Raven who’s always worried about him) thanks for writing and have a good day❤️❤️❤️

Hello,

I have that AU somewhere at the beginning of this blog I believe. I’m slightly terrified to dig for it but I’ll post the link anyways: here.

But here’s the first meeting of that AU.

Eeyore and Deadpool…

Raven was very used to odd people; she was an ER nurse inBoston on the nightshift; it didn’t get much weirder than that.

Yes, a long ways away from the sweltering desert she’d grownup in, but she’d left that hell for New England. And somethings were nodifferent here than there, only difference now was when she cursed in hermother’s tongue; no one knew a damn thing she was saying; something for whichshe was eternally thankful for.

Anyways, it was her day off. Specifically; it was laundryday; as she was out of clothes, and that was apparent with her Eeyore sleeppants and tattered; threadbare, bright red Deadpool shirt. Pulling on her woolsocks, tossing the soap as she picked up her hair tie for a messy bun behindher head. A few strands of her black hair escaped her as she slipped on her uggsbefore walking through the November cold building. There was a tactical knifein her pocket; one she never left her apartment without and she made her way tothe basement of the building.

Walking into the laundrymat she sighed as she pulled out her book and tossed it with her phone andheadsets on the top of the counter before she claimed her machine.

He walked in rather predatory like with a canvas sack, sheassessed him before ignoring him as he walked to a different machine and got towork with his own load.

“Interesting choice,” the man said as she chose to sit on hermachine and prepare to read and relax; the boiler was humming along in the cornerwarming the tight space.

“Pardon?” she looked up from her book.

“The book, love,” he smiled a bit.

“I find it to be entertaining, not particularly well writtenbut entertaining, reminds me of my grandfather” she admitted.

“Louis L’Amour is not a particularly smiled upon writer,”the man said. He had a smirk on his lip, and it split the already bruised face.His brow was hastily sewn shut without much technique or skill, almost as if he’ddone it himself.

“Do you dare to mock one of the only competent writers ofthe west?” she deadpanned.

“He’s just not a writer,” the man shrugged as he started hisload.

“And I suppose that you favor Zane Grey for an inclinationof what the west was like?” she asked.

“Well, he’s a better writer.”

“Not disagreeing, but I’m not reading this for the writing,I’m reading it for the story. And there’s no finer story teller of the westthan Louis L’Amour,” Raven stated.

“That sounds dangerously like a declaration of passionate opinionrather than facts, love,” he mused as he grimaced and hugged his ribs a bit.

“As a woman of the west it’s a fact, not a declaration.”

“Bold statement.”

“Yes, but true,” she insisted. “And what the hell did you doto your ribs?” She sighed sliding off her machine and walking to him.

“Don’t worry about it,” he tried to shoo her away from himthen.

“You’re hurt, I’m a nurse, now sit the fuck down or I’llpunch those ribs and have you sit down the hard way,” she warned.

“Feisty little bird,” the man rolled his eyes; she notedthen that he had a darkening bruise on his temple and jawline; the same side he’dobviously stitched up.

“Name’s Raven,” she offered her hand. “Raven Roth.”

“Jason Todd,” he tentatively took it and she examined thebruised knuckles.

“So what are you Jay? A bouncer, loan shark debter, or athug?” she sighed.

“Boxer and MMA fighter,” he answered.

“Really?” she stared balefully at him then; skeptism was runninga wee bit high right now.

“Really.”

“Well fuck, what the hell did you fight; a brick wall!?”

“Ah, no, this is from a friend,” he winced.

“What sort of friend does this?” she asked.

“Pissed off big brothers,” he answered flatly.

“I see well, you are in need of stiches on your scalp notjust your brow, and I can redo those,” she offered.

“It’s fine, probably deserve the pain,” Jason chuckled.

“No one deserves pain,” she countered flatly.

“You’d be surprised, little bird,” he murmured, and she sawthe tags then as she shifted his hoodie and shirt aside. The scaring, thepatterns of wounds, she’d seen things like this and she looked up at him.

“So, what makes you fancy yourself an expert in literature,Mr. Todd?” she asked primly as she examined his bruises.

“I’m working on a doctorate in literature,” he answered.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’m here for MIT engineering though,” he chuckled.

“Well rounded decision there,” she mused, and she frowned ata new blossoming bruise.

“I was a medic darling, I promise I’m good,” he said.

“Forgive me if I don’t take the word of a punch drunk boxerwho holds love for Zane Grey and not Louis L’Amour,” she countered and made himfollow the eye test. “What was your brother’s and yours fight about if I canask.”

“He wants me to go home,” he answered.

“And you don’t,” she stood. “Very well, I conclude you’re inpain but not about to keel over from internal pain.”

“I could have told you that and, no, I don’t want to gohome. I don’t want to be in the family business either,” he shrugged.

“No shame in that. But there be shame in you denying thatLouis L’Amour was an excellent story teller,” she smiled.

“Love he’s a terrible writer.”

“It’s not about the writing! It’s about the story, and JubalSackette has all of that!” she insisted.

“You’re delusional.”

“You’re punch drunk,” she countered.

“Am not!”

“Are too.”

“Liar!”

“Flipperhead!”

“What the fuck!?”

“Language!”

“What the hell is a flipperhead!”

“It’s an insult,” she shrugged.

“Then you’re a mooseknuckle,” he declared.

“Moose are majestic creatures!”

“Oh God you’re in that fandom!”

“As are you apparently.”

“You’re a bitch.”

“You’re a jerk.”

“I have tea,” he offered.

“I have Alexander Dumas, and one more day off.”

“This could be the start of a beautiful friendship littlebird.”

“Flipperhead.”

“Mooseknuckle.”

[buckybarnesstar]

Protective

Request: Hey there, do you think you could write a Bucky x Reader with them on a mission, Bucky having to listen to Reader flirting and pretending to be interested in their target, a guy from HYDRA, please ?

The mission was supposed to be easy. Find your target, flirt with him, and try to get him to the other two members. You thought you’d be able to do this stress free, but Bucky seems to have a jealous and overprotective side to him that you just discovered. You couldn’t help but enjoy this a little more. You weren’t the type to feel guilty about doing your job, no matter the way of doing so.

You sat at the empty bar, waiting for Tony to let you know your target has arrived. Bucky and Tony were waiting in a van, ready to take the guy away. You sighed and looked around the bar, looking at the people. There were only a few, some already drunk as can be as they played rounds of pool. Your choice of a Saturday night hangout spot was far different from your targets choice.

You swished your drink around in your cup and sighed again, watching the ice float around. “Still nothing?” You asked quietly, hearing shuffling in your comm. “Not yet.” Tony said, sounding rather annoyed.

You had been waiting for an hour almost for your target to show up. “Wait! Wait, here he is.” Tony said, having tapped into the security camera outside. Just then, the door to the place opened. A shiver ran down your spine as the cold night air blew in.

The man was tall and dark haired, wearing a large black trench coat and black boots. His eyes immediately landed on yours and he smirked at you. You could feel your nerves start to build up and you forced a sexy smirk back at him. Turning your gaze back to your drink, you heard the man’s footsteps approach you.

He sat down on the stool beside you and you could smell his cologne. “What’s a gorgeous lady like yourself doing all alone?” He asked, his voice low and sultry. You heard Bucky growl into your comm and you looked up at the man. “Just having a drink.” You said, winking up at him. He bit his lip and motioned for the bartender to come over.

The bartender looked at the man and asked for his order. “I’ll have tequila, thanks.” The man said, watching the bartender quickly get his drink ready. “Long day?” You asked in a soft yet sexy tone, taking a sip of your own drink. The man laughed darkly, glancing down at you. “You have no idea.” He said quietly. You definitely had an idea. The man was a Hydra agent. Being in the same room as him made you want to put a bullet in his skull.

You quietly hummed in response and the bartender handed the man his drink before walking out of the small area. “So, what’s your name, beautiful?” The man asked, his hand reaching down to rest on your thigh. You gasped and cleared your throat. The noise caught Bucky’s attention. “What’d he do?” Bucky asked, his tone harsh. You ignored Bucky, hoping your comm wasn’t too loud. You put on a smirk and looked up at the man.

“Y/N.” You said, reaching for your drink. You finished the rest and slid your cup away from you. His hand squeezed your thigh and you turned to him, poking out your chest. His eyes fell to your cleavage, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “And yours?” You asked. “Nate.” He stated simply. “You are absolutely stunning.” Nate said, leaning in closer to you. You smirked and giggled softly. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself.” You said, hearing Tony snicker into your comm.

You talked to Nate for about fifteen minutes, not really talking about anything but your body and how great he thought you looked. After a while, it got old and he was getting really forward with his hands. “So, how about we get out of here?” You asked, gently grasping Nate’s hand. “I thought you’d never ask.” Nate said, letting you pull him out of the bar.

Nate walked with you along the sidewalk and you could see the van not too far away. Suddenly your back was pressed against the hard cold brick of a building. You groaned from hitting the brick a bit harshly, but Nate took it as a pleasurable moan. “Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” Nate asked and you let out a forced giggle. “I do.” You moaned out, pulling him in closer.

Nate’s hands gripped your ass and you gasped before his lips made their way onto yours. He tasted like tequila and you wanted so badly to push him away, but you knew this was the only way to lead him to the van. His lips were sloppy and felt nothing like Bucky’s.

You let Nate kiss along the skin of your neck and you let out a fake moan, that sounded oddly satisfying. “Are you fucking kidding me, Y/N?” Bucky asked angrily and you quickly covered up the noise with another moan so you didn’t risk Nate hearing your comm. You were lucky he was kissing the opposite side of your neck. “Your skin is so soft.” Nate whispered, carefully nipping at your skin. “Fucking bullshit.” Bucky muttered.

You smirked and let your hands move into his hair. “Take me to your place and you can feel the rest of me, Nate.” You fake moaned, feeling Nate’s hands squeeze your waist. He chuckled deeply and it made your skin crawl with uneasiness. “Fuck. Let’s go.” Nate said, quickly pulling you along. You were relieved he was walking towards the van along the sidewalk.

You knew the two men were watching and you could hear them getting ready to pull Nate inside. The sound of the door unlocking in your comm let you know they were ready. As you approached the van, you pulled away from Nate. “I hate to end our night so soon.” You said, feeling happy you were able to get him here. Nate looked at you confused just as you two stopped at the van. “What?” Nate asked, looking at you.

You smirked and the van door suddenly slid open and you saw a metal hand pull Nate inside. “What the fuck!” Nate yelled, instantly getting punched in the face. Bucky grunted and slammed Nate into the floor of the van. You rolled your eyes and quickly got inside, shutting the door behind you. You sat down in your seat and Bucky handcuffed Nate. “What is going on!?” Nate yelled, looking around.

His eyes fell on Bucky and he gasped. “The-you’re the-” Bucky clenched his jaw and gripped Nate’s coat. “Not anymore, you sack of shit.” Bucky spat, slamming Nate back down on the floor of the van. You crossed your leg over the other and looked at Bucky. He sat down and Tony drove away, taking you all back to the helicopter so Tony could take Nate to the holding cells for questioning.

Nate glanced between you and Bucky. “Why did you do this?” Nate asked, angrily sighing. Bucky looked at Nate. “It’s best if you shut your mouth.” Bucky said, clenching his fists. Nate looked over at you now and you smiled at him. “You’re gonna have loads of fun where you’re going, don’t you worry.” You said with a smirk. Nate rolled his eyes and tried to wiggle out of the handcuffs.

A few moments passed and you felt eyes on you. You looked up from your lap and saw Bucky staring at you and Nate smirking. He glanced between you and Bucky. “I assume you guys are a thing?” Nate asked, sitting up as best he could. Bucky’s head shot towards Nate and you sighed. “What of it?” You asked, crossing your arms.

Nate licked his lips and turned to Bucky. “Your girl has a nice ass.” Nate said, licking his lips. Bucky sat up and you heard his arm whir before he punched Nate in the nose, knocking him out cold. “Nobody touches my girl.” Bucky growled. Tony laughed and pulled up to the destination. “He already did.” Tony said, getting out of the van.

You rolled your eyes and got out, letting Bucky pull Nate along over his shoulder. He walked over to the helicopter and dropped him inside, letting Tony take him away. You watched the helicopter leave and turned to walk back to the van. Bucky’s hand caught your arm and you looked up at him. “That was a pretty loud moan you let out back there.” Bucky said, his jaw clenched.

You pulled your arm away with a sigh. “I didn’t mean it. I was doing my job.” You said, starting to get a tad annoyed. Bucky scoffed and shook his head. “You seemed very eager, Y/N.” Bucky said, anger laced in his tone. “I was doing my JOB.” You said again, looking up at Bucky with your eyebrows creased. Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose. “I hate that he kissed you and touched you.” Bucky whispered, his voice cracking.

You sighed and stepped up to Bucky, wrapping your arms around his waist. “It didn’t feel right. I only want you, Bucky.” You said, feeling Bucky’s arms wrap around you tightly. “I want to kill him.” Bucky said lowly. You shook your head gently. “He won’t make it, they’ll end up doing that for you.” You said quietly.

Bucky placed a kiss on your head and sighed. “You’re mine.” He said, lifting your head up to look at him. You smiled and blushed, leaning up on your toes to kiss Bucky. He quickly pulled you closer, his lips feeling perfect against yours. You pulled away, resting your forehead against Bucky’s.

“I’m yours.”

Note: I’m really sorry if this sucks! thanks for the request! feedback is always welcome. .c

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