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calumxkisses · 4 years ago

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Sweet Creature | c.h.

pairing: calum hood x reader

genre: angst to fluff

warnings: i think implied smut?

summary: request - Heeyyy, can you do one, where they have a big fight and they are in quarentine, and they stop talking to each other, and the sleep in different rooms, with cal... kiss from brazil 🇧🇷

a/n: this is one of my favorite song! let me know what you think about it! i hope you enjoyed it ;)

you should read this imagine while listening to: sweet creature

➳

“What the hell is wrong with you?” a scream comes out of your lungs. Your face has turned red, your head hurts and you feel your heart pounding. Your throat is now dry and you feel your nails sticking into the palm of your hand.

What Calum notices, however, are the tears running down your face and the pain behind your eyes. What hurts him the most, though, is knowing he is the cause of your pain. He would like to hug you, tell you that he is sorry, that he loves you and that he doesn't even remember why you are fighting, but his pride prevents him from being the person he would like to be. The person you are in love with.

“All you do is whine.” he screams out, rolling his eyes and letting out a snort.

This discussion was the straw that broke the camel's back, filled by being forced to stay at home, by a canceled tour and canceled parties but, above all, by the concern of a world that is in chaos, with a fatal virus that spreads like wildfire.

He is worried, he feels the burden of not having to disappoint anyone, of being a good person who says the right things, of being a child who cares about their parents who live on the other side of the world and cannot go to visit, reassure, and that he can only see through a mobile phone screen.

“I have a right to be angry, you know that, right?” Your voice calms down a bit, but anger still runs through your veins. You walk up and down the room, with one hand on your forehead and being careful not to step on the broken glass of the fallen vase.

Calum has spent the last few weeks in the studio, out in the garden practicing, or locked in a room, anywhere but with you. He preferred to wake up early and go to sleep late, feel cold instead of holding you and skipping meals to avoid being with you.

For the first time in days, you get a good look at him: his hair has grown, as has the beard surrounding his face, he has terrible dark circles and the vein on his neck comes out prosperous, underlining how much he is screaming.

You felt abandoned, alone, left on the sidelines, and your feelings were amplified by the impossibility of going to someone, just to escape from that situation, to be held by someone else or just to talk over a coffee with a friend.

The only thing you could have done, was to ask him why, what you had done to deserve such treatment, and to spend some time together. And that’s where the scream started.

Tears roll down your face and you run your hand under your eyes to wipe them away. If you didn't notice them before, now the pinch caused by their wake has become hard to ignore.

“Are you going to cry now? God, you’re making me regret being with you. I really wish you weren’t born.”

Calum feels the pain it caused you before even reading the expression on your face. He puts his hand in front of his mouth in hopes of being able to block the words, but they have already left his lips and have come straight into your ears, getting stuck under your skin and breaking even the last pieces of the broken heart you have left.

His words hit you like a bolt from the blue. Arguing often leads to saying unthinkable words and among all the things you've been yelling at each other in the last hour, some bad words have certainly escaped, but nothing so terrible.

You feel a pain in your chest never felt before, deep and intense, and even the tears stop flowing. You inhale deeply, seeking relief in a breath of air and waiting for your body to react in any way, all is better than feeling full of pain. The room starts spinning, your head feels full and empty at the same time, and your legs struggle to bear the weight of your body.

Calum carefully scans your face, looking for any reaction from you to understand how much your mind has absorbed his words. His stress, his worries have led him to be a different person and the fear that you may leave him has terrified him, but his insecurities have done the opposite of what one expects, making he walk away from you and treating you coldly, and now he fears that he is really on the verge of being alone, with his broken heart in his hands, ready to mend every wound himself.

You didn’t deserve this.

“I can’t do this anymore. Not with you.” You whisper, lifting your face and looking him straight in the eye. The words he used, the coldness of his tones and the loneliness in which he left you have piled on top of each other on your chest, making it difficult for you to even breathe. You need time, space, whatever helps you figure out what to do.

“What do you mean?” He asks in a shaky voice. His eyes are glossy, his hands are shaking and his face has lost color. His heart carries so much goodness and you know it wasn't his intention to hurt you, but his words were like stab wounds and you need to take care of them now.

You don't want to leave, and not because you can't take a plane, but because Calum means too much to you and leaving is not an option to consider. If it ever ends up between you, after all you've been through, it should be in a more dignified way and not because of a stupid fight and insincere words.

“I’m going to sleep in the guest room for a while and then we’ll see what to do.” Is all you can say and all you can do.

“So you’re not leaving?”

“I don’t think so, at least not now.”

Silence.

And that silence means everything and nothing.

You pick up the pieces of your shattered heart and, after casting one last look at the boy in front of you, you take refuge in a room that doesn't belong to you. The air in the guest room is different, you can't breathe the love that characterizes every corner of yours and Calum's and even the sheets seem different, cold, painful. You put a hand through your hair and lean on the door, slowly sliding towards the floor and letting go of your frustration.

Calum closes his eyes and puts his hands to his face as his body slumps onto the sofa behind him. The house reigns in silence, the only audible sound is your sobs in another room and, before he knows it, he starts crying too. He doesn't care about wiping his face or stopping the moans that come out of his mouth, he deserves to feel awful and humiliate himself like that, the guilt is devouring him and he just thinks about how he wishes he could disappear, to make your life easier.

When you first met, he knew you were the right person from the first look you gave him. Behind your eyes, deep in the irises, there was a whole world, made of kindness, love and joy. You had your demons, but the strength you emanated made it clear that you were able to overcome them, even without knowing it. A world that he wanted to discover, with delicacy and patience, and in which he wanted to live.

But what he feared most was bringing darkness into the light you emanated, turning your smiles into tears and your heart into a mass of sharp pieces.

He had told you, while you were eating some heated pizza on a rainy morning, your legs were on his and your face on his shoulder. And you had caressed his face, wiping away the dirt on his lip with your thumb, assuring him that you would have love him anyway and that you would have happily shared some of your light, and then you had kissed him, and that kiss tasted like tomato sauce and love, a combination you still love with all your heart.

And now, the only thing he can do, besides pitying himself, is wondering if you're regretting sharing your joy with him, if you'd rather stay full of light instead of welcoming his demons. And he fears your answer is yes.

Duke rubs his face on his leg, asking for scratches but also showing his affection. He doesn't know what happened and Calum wonders if the dog, who loves you more than any other person has crossed the threshold of your home, would look at him differently knowing that he broke the heart of the person he loves most.

If so, as his mind is trying to convince him, he couldn't handle it. He would not be able to live knowing that he has let down another being he cares about. Because he cares about you, but it is difficult for him to show it, the fear of rejection is stronger than he would like.

So, he lowers himself a little and gently strokes the dog, hoping to be able to receive that affection he is so afraid of losing.

As Calum's world shatters before his eyes, you take care to gently reassemble what's left of yours. You're still on the floor, getting up takes too much energy and a motivation that you can't find.

How you feel about the guy down the hall cannot be described in words, there is no way to describe what his gaze makes you feel, the way his words reassure you or how his love warms your heart up. It just works like this. Your love does not need big gestures or difficult words and never like now, it is better to absorb the silence and be lulled by the air.

Perhaps it would have been better to remain silent, let the cold of his words slip on you and learn to live in the loneliness in which he left you, but you couldn't go on like this. Not fighting would have meant not caring about him or your relationship and that's exactly the opposite of how things are. He had to know how you felt and what you were missing.

The sweet sound of his voice or the warmth of his skin are essential for you, not only on a love level, but in the daily routine of your life. A routine that had changed, which was no longer full of joy and smiles, light and perfume, but of demons that wandered undeterred around the walls of your home, ready to bring the cold into your souls.

And that routine, once full of love, was now non-existent. No more words had been said between you, no meal had been eaten together and your bed had forgotten what love meant. The stars, ever present witnesses of the passion that surrounded your bodies, were now always absent, covered by gray clouds and black skies. Even the moon, which guards all lovers, shone with a paler and more blurred light.

The moon gave way to the sun, the grass grew and the days alternated on the calendar. And yet, it seemed to you that you were still still that afternoon. Sure, breathing had become less difficult and the tears had stopped flowing on your face, but even in the middle of spring the coldness brought chills on your body.

You have no idea what he is doing, occasionally you see the shadow of his shoes behind the door of the guest room or you hear broken melodies coming from the studio, but his face becomes more and more unknown.

You spend your days studying, working, playing with Duke or reading your favorite books. You wake up late and go to sleep early, hoping to feel less lonely.

The truth, however, is that you miss him immensely, like water in the desert or milk after eating spicy food. You need to be able to get lost in his eyes or just hold his hand. The headache meds don't work like his kisses on your forehead, and no number of blankets could bring you the same warmth that a hug from him gives off.

You feel so pathetic to need him by your side, but after so many years of loneliness, he was able to convince you that you were worthy of being loved just like everyone else and, specifically, that he would love you more than anyone else. And he had done it, always and anyway, for the sake of the joyful news and the bad of your depression, he had always been there, ready to show you that you were worth it.

He wants to do it, he wants to continue to hold you and to tell you how beautiful you are, how honored he feels to be the keeper of your heart and the champion of your love, but he believes that no apology would bring serenity to your sky.

What is he supposed to do? No words would express the humiliation he feels whenever he thinks back to your fight and his behavior, no hug or kiss would bring love into your broken heart.

He spent his nights awake, the insomnia caused by his thoughts was making it impossible for him to live. The table seemed too big and the bed too uncomfortable, the bass was always out of tune even as he spent hours adjusting its strings and no melody seemed catchy enough to lift your mood in the other room. He knew that when you were sick, listening to him play brought some peace to your troubled world, but now no sound would chase the bad weather away.

None of his gestures would be enough to show how bad he feels. Nothing can express the pain he feels and the regret of his words.

However, 3 years of relationship is enough for him to know what makes you smile. There is one song in particular, in the immense repertoire that is your music library, that you love to hum and listen to when the silence is too loud.

So, wearing his best shirt and trying to fix the clump of his hair, he sits down at the piano in the living room and, after taking a deep breath, he tries to voice his thoughts.

Sweet creature

Had another talk about where it's going wrong

But we're still young

We don't know where we're going

But we know where we belong

And oh we started

Two hearts in one home

It's hard when we argue

We're both stubborn

I know, but oh

As you put down your favorite book after reading it again, Calum's sweet, broken voice spreads throughout the house, bringing a sense of comfort to your heart. You can hear the pain behind his voice, and even though you know your wounds will take some time to heal, the words he screamed at you lose their value. One part of you is still angry but the other, curious and in love, wastes no time getting you out of bed and walking towards the room.

The piano overlooks the garden, the sun shines above and illuminates all the plants. Duke is chasing a butterfly, its tail wags quickly and some leaves are stuck in its fur. Calum has his back to you, his back leaning slightly forward as he looks outward, but his mind wanders somewhere else.

You lean on the door jamb that separates the two rooms and close your eyes, letting yourself be carried away by the music and breathing regularly, giving your body respite from all the accumulated stress.

Sweet creature, sweet creature

Wherever I go, you bring me home

Sweet creature, sweet creature

When I run out of road, you bring me home

Sweet creature

We're running through the garden

Oh, where nothing bothered us

But we're still young

I always think about you and how we don't speak enough

Calum watches the garden as the lyrics of the song automatically come out of his mouth. He was never good at playing the piano but, during the nights spent away from you over the years, he promised himself to learn all your favorite songs so he could sing them to you whenever you needed them.

And while Duke rolls around in the grass, he can't help but think about the thousand picnics you had on that same lawn, the laughter you shared and all those moments when he always fell in love a little more looking at you.

And even if the song doesn't belong to him, he can still feel every single word and a small tear falls down his face.

And oh we started

Two hearts in one home

I know, it's hard when we argue

We're both stubborn

I know, but oh

Sweet creature, sweet creature

Wherever I go, you bring me home

Sweet creature, sweet creature

When I run out of road, you bring me home

You take a few steps forward and, after taking a deep sigh, sit next to him. Calum winces at the contact but his face turns into a big smile after seeing you. He doesn't know if you're still mad at him or if his singing worked, but being able to see you again after so many days spent in agony brings a sense of peace to his messed up world. He knows that this song is not enough, that he will have to prove a lot more to you - even if you will probably forbid it - but knowing that he has you there, frees him from a weight that he carried inside.

And as usual, there is no need for words, he just needs to feel your head resting on his shoulder to know that you have come back to him. And when your hands touch his, he feels at home again.

Almost automatically, your hands begin to move to the rhythm of the music and your fingers touch the keys of the piano, accompanying Calum in the melody, just as he taught you.

Duke is rolling in the grass, the butterfly now forgotten, and his happy face is illuminated by the sun. It seems that the sky has returned to shine too, not just your eyes, and the pieces of the puzzle fit together perfectly again.

I know when we started

Just two hearts in one home

It gets harder when we argue

We're both stubborn

I know, but oh

Sweet creature, sweet creature

Wherever I go, you bring me home

Sweet creature, sweet creature

When I run out of road, you bring me home

You'll bring me home

There was no need to talk to him, or to explain, risking losing you was necessary for him to understand that something was wrong, that he had to find the right path, that you can risk skidding, the important thing is getting back on track.

“I am grateful to your mother for bringing you into the world, but even more grateful to you for being a part of my life. I'm sorry for what I said, I didn’t mean it. I love you and I always will.” He whispers, placing his hands on his thighs, as soon as he finishes singing the last words. His words are sincere, you can perceive the displeasure behind his tone and you know he believes what he says.

He kisses you on the forehead and, taking your hand in his and squeezing it, he rests his face on your head, closing his eyes and absorbing the silence, a cautious silence, full of peace and fresh air.

“I love you too.” You whisper back, closing your eyes in turn and letting yourself be lulled by the peace and serenity found. You know that everything will be fine, that even if you’ll have other fights, you will always find a way to get back to each other.

#calum hood #calum hood imagine #calum hood imagines #calum imagine #calum x reader #calum hood x you #calum 5 seconds of summer #calum hood x reader #5 seconds of summer #5sos imagine #5sos imagines #ashton 5 seconds of summer #luke 5 seconds of summer #michael 5 seconds of summer #calum 5sos

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hyunjilicious · 4 years ago

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what is and what should never be [bucky barnes]

A/n: ok, so. Im really fucking insecure about this. I literally poured my heart into this fic. I'm genuinely unhappy with the beginning, but I promise you, it gets better!! I don't have it in me to rewrite it for the 4th time. I really hope you'll still like it though. If you ask me, this is the best fic idea I even had. Please, please, if you enjoyed it, let me know!!!

Summary: It was you and Bucky. An unlikely couple that shared equally disturbed pasts. When you get a day off, your paradise turns into hell as Bucky's nightmares return, leaving you alone to deal with The Winter Soldier. (FLUFF, SMUT, ANGST) 12k

Warnings: 2 smut scenes - they're graphic but not extreme, fluff, angst, violence, mentions of death and suicide, blood, a fight scene - also quite graphic but it was written to serve the angst. I don't want to spoil the ending, but if you really connect with the characters, you will not hate me!!

This day had been long awaited. After months of back to back missions and endless efforts to climb up the greasy pole of US social standards, words failed to describe how ecstatic you were to know, that for the next 24 hours, your whole schedule would fully be in your hands.

You had the freedom to do just about anything you wanted, and the simple fact that the rest of the avengers left to deal with some paperwork excited you to no end. You woke up when it was time for them to take off, and made a snarky remark about heading to the gym - something along the lines of having a productive day centered on self development.

Just about 20 minutes later, you and Bucky, now also alone in the Stark Tower, decided to start off your day on the right foot. He offered to make protein smoothies as you changed into something comfortable and fitting for a workout, but neither of you got their job done.

You had no idea how that happened, but before you knew it you were wearing your sports bra and still had your pajama pants on, moaning on the counter of Tony's kitchen as Bucky had lodged himself between your legs, hungrily exploring the heated skin of your neck, peppering you with bruise marks that represented his adoration for you. "You heal fast anyway" he shrugged, pulling you closer and digging his teeth into your flesh, sucking profusely and eliciting an erotic moan from your lips.

With every new hickey he left, another one would disappear, which in turn would make him even more frustrated, “The hell should I do? Tattoo hickeys on you!?” he groaned, moving up your neck. You caught his cheeks into your palms and kissed him back, smiling as he kept getting more and more aggravated.

It didn't come as a surprise when the blender went berserk, splattering fruit pulp, almond milk and protein powder all over the pristine walls of the room - both of you have long forgotten about it.

The way Bucky cleaned the mess was the epitome of not giving a shit, and you couldn't find it more endearing. He bitched and whined his way through the whole process, and tears formed at the corners of your eyes at the ridiculousness of the half assed job he just did.

You eventually reached the gym - of course, against all your pouting and begging to put off this session. "Doll, you're the only avenger who can't fight. A punk on the street could snap your purse and there would be nothing you can do"

Wrong, he was not. You couldn't fight - but at the same time that didn't mean you were defenceless. It was your immense power that for months on end made your teammates consider you a liability. The energy that surged through your veins had been too great for you to handle, and in fact, it still was, but now, thanks to the joined efforts of Tony and Bruce, there was a way for that power to be contained. Their solution came in the form of two massive shackles wrapped around the length of your forearms. They were made of dimeritium and kept all kinds of energy from leaving your body. But, even so, that energy was in full form, buzzing inside every fiber of your being. And so, while wearing them you couldn't attack anyone, but there wasn't a way for them to harm you either. That field of energy protected you from every kind of damage and wounds you had ever encountered, ranging from fist fights to automatic rifles to guided grenades.

"I'm the only one that doesn't need to know" you huffed and puffed, annoyed but still determined to get this first training session done with.

But that never happened. Halfway through your warm up rounds, your teasing side awoke and it took you about ten minutes to go from batting your eyelashes and flaunting your ass, to nonchalantly cupping his cock into your hand.

No one could blame Bucky for not even trying to stop you. Bless him, he did everything he could, but he was never able to resist you. And probably never will be.

By the time you were done at the gym, both your bodies were coated in lecherous layers of sweat, no of them being from actually working out. It was only a matter of time until you managed to break his self control and he had you sprawled on all fours in the middle of the boxing ring, moaning your soul out as he pounded your pussy.

The momentum made your whole frame rock back and forth, your hair falling around your face, "Holy fuck-"

The room vibrated with the vulgar slaps he afflicted on your bare ass. You arched your back and cried his name out loud, "Come on, Bucky- I- harder please-"

"How are you already so needy?" he chuckled, caging your waist between his strong arms and pulling you up until your back reached his chest. "I ate this pussy this morning before we got out of bed"

"You know I love your tongue-" you giggled out of breath as you tried to look at him over your shoulder. "But it doesn't compare to your cock"

"What does?" Bucky rhetorically questioned before picking up his pace. He kept slamming his hips into yours, fucking you at full force as with each thrust, his cock rammed against your walls hard enough to make you see stars.

"I'm really fucking close, Buck" you whined, feeling your knees start to refuse to maintain your weight any longer.

"Don't cum yet" he panted, "Wait for me"

"Fuck, fuck, fuck-" you cried out loud, liquid pleasure seeping out of you in the form of fresh tears streaming down your cheeks. "Please-" you whined, "I can't hold it anymore, I'm-"

"Not yet, baby" Bucky groaned, easily stopping you from wiggling around in his hold. His thrusts became sloppy and the orgasm got the best of him. He buried his face deep in your shoulder as his high forced guttural moans to rip from his throat.

As he filled you up with his cum, as much as you wanted to comment about him making you wait and then not even bothering to tell you you could cum, you couldn't. Your eyes rolled back in pleasure and your chest heaved as the spiral of bliss seemed to go on and on, tons of ecstasy propagating in long painful waves across your body.

"Fuck-" Bucky panted as helped you up, "I could get used to days like this. We should retire"

"I'm not retiring-" you teasingly shook your head, "not until you find a way to give me a baby"

"I'd give you all the babies" he retorted, tugging your hand.

It caused you to lose your balance and stumble into his chest, "I love you"

"Love you" Bucky kissed the top of your head and spun you around. With his palms on your hips, he started guiding you towards the door, "Let's get you cleaned up"

And then, another wave of unproductivity followed. You showered, ordered pizza, whined about how there was still some smoothie left on the floor, and after you warned him about it, your face fell as Bucky stepped directly in the middle of the puddle of almond milk. He was fuming, the incident wiped any traces of happiness off his face. He mumbled something about that being the last pair of comfy socks he had left and something about Tony's devices being a constant pain in the ass.

He went on and on until you ambushed him with kisses up his neck and shoved your hands under his shirt. In an instant his bickering turned into soft giggles as he innocently relaxed under your touch. You eventually cleaned up the mess and tried to make yourself busy. Nothing worked, you weren't in the mood for anything and at the same time, even though you did absolutely nothing all day, you felt a wave of tiredness envelop you.

At about 4pm, and you Bucky had already been lazily laying in bed, a mess of tangled limbs under the fluffy duvet. Your conversation started from the tactical gear he swore would look better on you than on him and then wondered how you didn't know how to sow.

"I'll hit you" you threatened.

"I'm sorry" he laughed, holding onto your forearm as it was resting on his chest, "But you know how much I love it when you get angry at my misogynistic jokes"

"It's rude" you scoffed - you didn't mean his jokes, but the fact that when he grew up, women were not anywhere near where they are today.

"You know I don't mean it"

"I know you don't" you laughed, "Otherwise I'd have actually hit you"

"Don’t worry" Bucky said, "I'd hit myself if I was that stupid"

"Cute" you smiled, kissing his shoulder. Looking up at him, you promoted your chin against his chest, "Do you miss it? The 40s i mean"

He thought about it for a second. "Nah" there was a bit of nostalgia in his tone, but you believed him. "I've kinda made my peace with the fact that everyone from my old life is gone. I wouldn't want to go back now. I got you. I got all of you guys. I'm good now, really good"

"I'm glad" you beamed, feeling yourself warm up from the inside just thinking of the progress he made. After a few seconds, you spoke up again, "But what about the society? Like the day to day life? How do you like the 2010s?"

"I can't lie" Bucky laughed, "I liked Romania better. Much simpler."

"You lived in a dead beat apartment, hiding everyday" you scoffed, "How was that better?"

"I don't know… maybe it was the simple life. Apparently I'm all about that"

"You'd move back there?"

"If you came with me?" he questioned, looking down at you. There was genuine sincerity in his eyes and a hint of a smile at the corner of his lips. "Wouldn’t even think twice"

"Maybe one day" you sighed with content. You snuggled back against his side, and closed your eyes. "We're not done avenging yet" you mumbled.

He didn't say anything to that. You didn't know whether he was getting lost in thoughts or if he was starting to drift off, but you would have been fine with either. When he spoke up again, you didn't expect the conversation to take this route.

"About Romania…" he sighed, "What made you come with Steve back in 2016?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean-" he muttered, rubbing his light stubble, "I know why Steve came-" Bucky chuckled, "And Sam's all up his ass, so there's that. But what about you?"

"I-"

"I'm aware of the rift I caused between you guys back then. So that's why I'm asking. What made you stand by Steve from the beginning?"

"I knew how much you meant to him. And I know how this is going to sound, but I felt sorry for you, Buck. I know what it's like to be alone, to have everyone turn against you. You deserved better"

"Love-?" he called softly, his voice nearly breaking. "What do you mean you know what it's like to have everyone turn against you?"

As you maintained the eye contact, you felt tears prickle, "I know it wasn't fair of me to keep my past a secret, but-"

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to-" he said softly, his eyes warm. The pain was readable on his features, he hated how your whole demeanour changed.

"It's not that I don't want you to know, it's just that I hate talking about it. Gives me nightmares."

"Then we can just drop it" Bucky murmured, gathering you closer.

"I wish you could know without me telling you" you laughed, "You make everything better and easier. I should've told you, I know. It isn't fair to you. We've been together for almost two years but as far as you're concerned I didn't exist until I joined the avengers. I don't even know how much they know. We never talked about it"

"Love, listen to me. I'm here whenever you want to talk about it. You didn't do anything wrong. There are a lot of things about me that you don't know either. We're not those people anymore. No one can blame us for trying to escape out past"

"Yeah, you're right" you sighed.

Gathering your power, you pushed yourself up and settled beside him, with your legs crossed. You grabbed his hand pulling it into your lap, and intertwined your fingers with his as you spoke.

"Forget the official story, there's no truth to it anyway"

"I really didn't believe your mum was a criminal and that you were in a mental asylum" he joked.

"Good-" you smiled, his words lifting the atmosphere a bit. "Truth is, I don't know anything about my parents. But I have my assumptions. I grew up in that soviet facility so I never met them. I was told it was owned by a group of socialite scientists who wanted our help"

"Our? Who's we?"

"There were 7 of us"

"Did they have the same power as you?"

"Approximately. When we were younger, we used to comply and do everything we were told but as we grew up, things started to change. We weren't happy. Who could be? Considering we were being held in cells and studied like lab rats. We started to act differently and some might even say we tried to rebel, but that didn't work obviously, and that's when the restrictions began. For the last 3 years I spent there, there hadn't been a day where the temperature passed 0°C."

Your skin crawled as you recaled the endless nights you spent shivering your way to sleep. Everything around you was ice cold. But it wasn't for the sole purpose of torturing you. It was your only weakness. As the temperature dropped, so did the movement of the atoms that made up your body - eliminating your powers to the point where you were barely alive.

"One day, as spring came, we wanted to break out. We made a plan, and figured that as soon as we were out, we'd be fine. We were wrong. We were off about the weather and they got us before we even exited the perimeter. That's when the avengers heard about us."

By now, Bucky's eyes were wide with genuine curiosity, his mouth agape as he took in the information you provided. With every word you spoke his grip tightened around your fingers and his eyebrows gathered even further. There was discomfort and anger in his features, but he didn't interrupt you once.

"After that, the restrictions got tougher. We realised there was no way out. A lot of things came together in that small time frame. I realised what that place actually was days after we tried to escape. My friends - or that's what I thought they were, figured out another plan. Why fight when you can just eliminate the premise?"

Bucky moved his lips but no words came out. He cleaned his throat and sat up a bit, "What- what do you mean?"

"They tried to kill me" you said, plastering a sympathetic smile on your lips, hoping it would make it easier for him to hear.

"What the fuck. Why?"

"I think my dad used to be part of that team. And I think he made me the way I am. Now I don't know why he wasn't around anymore, but that team wasn't trying to get us to do anything. They were trying to make more of me. So if I was dead-"

"There would be no reason to keep the other kids…" Bucky finished the sentence for you.

You nodded.

"And what happened?"

You bowed your head trying to find a way to put your words together. Bucky didn't rush you, just reassuringly rubbed his thumb across your knuckles, waiting. When a tear from your cheek slipped and landed on the back of his hand, you looked up and took a deep breath. "I killed them. All of them."

He didn't say anything. Didn’t move a muscle, as he waited for you to continue.

"I didn't even want to do that, Buck" you sobbed, breaking down. "I killed over 20 people because I was afraid. I didn't even move. I was in the corner of my room the whole time, but everyone who approached me was fried to death. I don't even know how I did that. I was just scared"

"Oh, baby" Bucky cooed, pushing himself up to wrap his arms around you. You fell against his chest, crumbling in his embrace. "I hope you know that was not your fault, ok?" he asked, rubbing your back. "You were just a kid, alone and afraid. It breaks my fucking heart, those bastards. Please don't feel sorry for them"

"I feel sorry for the other kids"

"They tried to kill you, Y/n" Bucky countered, "If you hadn't killed them, I would've gone after them. All of them"

"They were desperate..."

"So were you!"

"I can't help but feel like a monster sometimes, you know? Like I'm reckless and out of control. There are times when I'm all happy and excited about what tomorrow would bring, and then i remember what I did, and I have a hard time fighting away the thoughts that try to tell me I don't deserve that"

"What you deserve is the fucking world ok?" Bucky said, tilting your chin so you could see just how serious he was. "This past couple of years, you saved hundreds of lives and I know for a fact you did it out of the pure kindness of your heart, not because you wanted to make up for anything in the past. You're a fucking angel. You're the embodiment of good, you hear me? I know you. You'll never understand how much respect I have for you, and how in awe I am with the kind of person you are. Please, don't ever think less of yourself. Ever, ok?"

Tears rolled down your cheeks as his words proved to be much more than you were able to hear at that moment. "Thanks, Buck. That's sweet of you to say-"

"It's not sweet of me to say, it's the fucking truth" he scoffed, but he somehow managed to make it sound loving. "You didn't even fucking try, but just being around you made me feel like a person again. You're amazing, Y/n. We're all lucky to have you. I'm lucky to have you."

"You're gonna make me cry" you sniffled, curling yourself into a ball against his chest, "I know you were in a dark place when we met. I'm glad I managed to help you through it"

"You pulled me through it" he sighed, tightening his hold around you. "I went from wanting to die, to thinking that I didn't even deserve the easy way out. Look at me now."

"Buck, stop"

"I love you so fucking much" Bucky laughed.

His whole frame shook as he pulled you back down, safely holding you between his arms, "You're amazing" he added, kissing the top of your head, "Perfect"

"I said, stop" you chuckled, slapping his side, "I get it, you like me, can we-"

"I adore you" Bucky cut you off after grabbing the sides of your face between his palms. "And thanks for trusting me. I know it wasn't easy for you to talk about your past, so thank you. I'm always here for you. If there's anything ever, I got you, ok? Forever"

"I got you too" you added, kissing his cheek and then moving along his jawline, "No matter what happens, you'll always have me on your side. I'm all yours, Bucky"

"Yeah, you are, doll. All mine"

After that talk, how you managed to fall into a deep sleep will always remain a mystery. Nightmares didn't make their way into your mind, and you settled for a dreamless slumber, actually fully content for the first time in a long while.

But not everybody processed grief the same way. And if Bucky mentioned earlier that he was lucky to have you, as you were pulled out of your sleep, you realised that he wasn't as lucky as you were when it came to the mysteries that creep up on you when you least expect them.

"Wake up sunshine"

The sound reached your ears, but it wasn't Bucky's voice, so you just groaned in response and rolled over to the other side, completely pressing your face into the pillow.

"Buttercup, it's time to wake up"

The voice seemed uneasy, as if the person speaking was actually terrified. You opened your eyes wearily, and were met with the usual, complete darkness of your room.

"Come on, Y/n" they spoke again. You turned to see one of Tony's maintenance robots hovering above your body, one small screen lit up on its front. Blinking a few times to rid yourself of the sleep still lingering in your eyes, you managed to make out the faces of Tony and Steve, both staring at you.

"What's going on?" you mumbled.

"You've got incoming," Tony announced, and then shook his head at whatever someone next to him had said. The microphone wasn't performant enough for you to hear what the other person said, but it was not like you cared.

"Incoming what?" you questioned, still confused out of your mind.

He turned his attention back to you, "The asshole"

You frowned and Steve scoffed, "Y/n, it's Bucky. He's not well"

"Wh-" you mumbled, your head snapping to the side, only then realising his side of the bed was empty. You shuffled your arm around the sheets, still warm. "What- what happened?"

"He's gone rogue, Y/n" Steve announced, genuine worry and guilt audible in his voice, "You need to make sure he doesn't leave. You need to stop him"

Tony's workstation. You needed to get the shackles off your arms if you wanted to stand a chance, "Tony? How do I take these off?" you asked, pointing to your cuffs.

"Already taken care off" he nodded, "Get to my desk, it's unlocked. All you need to do is actually get there. If you can"

"If I can-?" you began asking, but a loud explosion sound cut you off, causing the bed to shake as a wind blew through your room. "What the fuck!?"

"He may have found the grenade launchers" Tony smiled bitterly.

"Y/n," Steve called for you, "Please, be careful. And call us. Me and Nat will take the jet but I don't know-"

"Don't worry" you shook your head, jumping off the bed and rushing to your closet. You chose the first clothes you saw laying before your eyes and put them on, ready to go look for Bucky. "I got this, I promise"

"Oh, and Y/n?" Tony said, making you turn to him at the last minute, "Try not to fry my tower"

You nodded and refrained from making any promises you didn't know you could keep.

As soon as you walked out the door, the sound of automatic rifles going off became deafening. Stepping over piles of broken glass, you made your way to the emergency staircase, heading to Tony's lab. You did so with maximal caution, knowing that if you were spotted, there would be no going back.

Descending the last remaining flight of stairs until his work station, a rush of adrenaline surged through you, knowing just how close you were. Silently rounding the corner, your eyes landed on Bucky's frame, easily holding one of the remaining SHIELD agents up by the neck.

He turned to look at you, eyes cold and empty. Not even rage. There was nothing there. No expression, no empathy, no feeling. It was as if he was dead. This wasn't him.

"Buck-" you panted, raising your hands up in the air, signaling surrender. You eyed Tony's desk, determined to stall him until you managed to free yourself of the cuffs.

You took a cautious step to the side, hands still up in the air. Bucky watched you as the man struggled against his hold, legs spasming uncontrollably as he kicked and squirmed, even though it was so clearly in vain.

"Don’t mind me-" you smiled, sweat flooding your pores as you slowly approached your destination. "I'll just-"

"You'll just what-?" Bucky groaned, flinging his victim with impeccable ease. The agent's body flew across the room, crushing into the only device that had the power to help you get through this. As the work station crumpled under his weight, so did your hopes of getting out of this.

"Bucky, hey-" you mumbled, afraid of pissing him off, "I-"

"Who the hell is Bucky?" he frowned, starting to march towards you. Your blood ran cold, knowing you didn't have what it took to keep up with him. You were never able to dodge anyone's blows, let alone his. When he reached you, his hand instantly reached around your neck, lifting you off the floor, "SHIELD?" he asked after taking a look at your attire. Although not carrying the emblem, it was probably the only explanation that made sense to him.

"Well, um-" you huffed, holding onto his wrist in hopes of not running out air, "No, not SHIELD"

"Then who are you?" he growled, tightening his hold on your windpipe.

"Fuck-" you gasped, kicking your legs, even through he didn't even flinch when you hit him. "You're not gonna believe this but, um-"

"Try me"

You looked into his eyes, hoping it would serve as some kind of a memento, that maybe he'd remember you. "You know me, Buck. It's Y/n, I'm- your girlfriend?"

Even saying it made you feel weird. This killing machine, apparently hell bent on wrecking havoc, was not the man you loved, and you cringed just imagining his reaction to hearing your words.

And it did turn out to be worse than expected, as he spun around, doing a complete 180° with your body before slamming you down on the floor. The wood cracked under your bones, knocking the wind out of you. The pain of the impact was excruciating, propagating along your body in waves of some physical agony you had never felt before. The sound of your bones cracking made you sick to your stomach. Your ears caught the sound of your arteries being torn as your organs collapsed.

And if you felt every inch of your body being shattered and destroyed, it was God's way of making you pay for your parent's mistakes, as when your wounds healed mere seconds later, the pain did not go away. Your nerve receptors still registered damage to the tissues, and no matter whether you were actually as good as new, your brain couldn't process that.

What consumed you the most was the fact that as you struggled to stand up, the pain of broken limbs lingered on. But you fought through it, gathered yourself and stood up, facing him again.

You winced with every muscle contraction, but eventually your eyes met his. He showed curiosity, along with something else. Something else which you wished wasn't determination to finish you.

"Can we-" you whimpered, extending a hand, "Can we talk?"

"Talk!?" Bucky raged, grabbing your wrist and twisting your arm to the point where he spun you around, your back pressing against his chest. "Not here to talk" he growled into your ear.

The hairs on your body stood as you heard his voice. Even though it was technically the same voice you loved more than anything in the world, it made you now shiver with a fear you've never experienced before.

You didn't get a chance to sink too deep in your thoughts before Bucky raised your arm, dislocating your shoulder and busting your humerus into pieces. The pain cut your legs at the knees and you screamed in agony, falling to the floor at his feet.

"Stand up" he commanded, slamming his foot into your side. The momentum made your body roll away, until you settled back on the ground, face deep in the rubble. Your muscles pulled you to your feet with ease, but the pain coursing through you was immense, nowhere near close to what you thought bearable. You felt the skin being ripped from your body and when you looked down, your clothes were torn, soaked in blood, but your skin was intact. It was what you needed to keep going - to get inside your head the fact that you were fine, because at this point, the pain was one bruise away from making you faint.

"Bucky, please-" you cried.

"Stop calling me Bucky!" he yelled, starting to approach you again.

With every step he took, you slowly backed away. "Please, listen to me, just a second, please!"

He shook his head no, a demented smile on his lips as he closed in on you.

"Bucky-"

As a reply to your question, his fist flew up, slamming into your jaw, hard enough to throw you to the ground, "Why do you keep calling me-"

"What else do you want me to call you, huh?" you yelled at him, vision blurred under too many layers of tears. "Tell me, and I'll do it if it'll get you to listen to me."

"I don't want you to call me anything-" he cocked his head to the side, unstrapping a handgun from his thigh. He loaded it as you barely managed to crawl away, "You can take the pain. I respect that. Let's see how well you do with these lead bullets"

You saw them in slow motion, barely managing to duck your head behind the remains of what once was a heavy wooden bookshelf. The bullets missed your chest and face, but you saw them, felt them penetrate your skin, ripping through your muscles.

The sound of your tissues being pulled to shreds made you feel sick to your stomach. As the bullets left your body, your wounds closed back up, leaving you a crying mess on the floor. Your throat constricted due to the wave of shock that hit your body, and your lungs started hyperventilating. Lightheaded and gasping for air, you struggled to crawl away from him, tears marching down your face and ending up on the floor, nothing but diluting the droplets of blood that had fallen from your body mere minutes before. Your heart was in overdrive and your vision blurred as every fiber of your being threatened to let you down. "Please-" you screamed, your voice breaking as you raised your hand for him, "Let's talk, please. That's all I want. Give me a minute"

But he didn't. He didn't even consider it. Instead, the force that controlled the body of the only man that ever managed to make you feel safe, tortured, destroyed and consumed your body for what felt like the better part of an eternity.

You had been thrown through walls, shattered windows, had glass shards lodged into your body from all angles. He unloaded cannon after cannon on you, used up all the ammo he had on him, only growing more and more annoyed when you refused to give up.

There was no way to know how much time had passed. Now you were standing by the window, inches away from the spot where two nights ago, you and Bucky clicked your glasses, smiling at how far you both had come. He laughed, saying he wouldn't have made it without you. And then he kissed you, confessing that the thought that maybe you couldn't have made it without him either, was what kept him going.

And then there you were. 48 hours later, again, just the two of you. But now there weren't any champagne glasses between you, just his metal arm, wrapped around your neck, this time, as he said, for the last time.

"I don't get it-" he scowled, teeth gritted and frustration in his voice, "Why don't you fight me?"

"I can't fight you" you whimpered as your tears poured down against his cold hand, "And even if I could, I wouldn't."

"WHY?" Bucky screamed, and for a second, you thought you saw a crack there, a glister of emotion hidden deep in his otherwise beautiful eyes.

"Because I love you" you cried.

But there was none. He rolled his eyes and pushed you back, your body slamming into the window. You should've thought faster, been more witty and considerate, but terror washed over you and in the heat of the moment, you grabbed onto him for dear life, pulling him down with you, plummeting to the ground from what looked like the 70th floor of the Stark Tower.

If until now you had been afraid of what you'd have to endure, it was now that you met true terror. You'd survive the fall, but he wouldn't.

Even in the air, approaching the ground at a dangerous speed, he kept fighting you. Even in this state, you admired his determination - he had a job and wanted to get it done - even if that job was killing you. A man of his word.

By now, the pain was unnoticeable. If you wanted to keep him alive you had to act fast. Clinging to his body despite his vicious protests and ruthless blows, you used your momentum to turn the two of you around. And you did so at the last second, as before you knew it, your bodies crashed into the boulevard below, sinking down into the asphalt as it crumpled under your weight.

The impact cut your breath away and there was a gnawing feeling all over your body, as if you had blades under your skin, pulling your body apart fiber by fiber. But you snapped out of it.

"Bucky!" you yelled, slapping his cheek.

He had fallen completely on top of you, his head pressed against your chest. He didn't move and the continuous buzz in your ears made it physically impossible for you to tell whether he was breathing for not.

"Bucky, please-" you cried, trying to move him so you could see his face.

Nothing.

"No, no, no!!" you screamed, "You can't die, baby, please! Not like this, love. Please come back to me, Buck, I'm begging you!!"

You remained there and wailed, with him glued to your chest. Your arms had wrapped around his motionless frame, keeping him as close as you could. Nothing could have gotten you to stop. Tens of people gathered around the crater your fall created around your bodies, police showed up, cameras were pointed at your faces, but you didn't care. If he died, so would you.

"You're all I have, baby-" you muttered, voice hoarse and dry from all the wailing and crying, "Please, you can't leave me. This can't be the end of us. Please, I don't know what to do, Bucky, please!"

You were soaked. In blood, and you didn't even know whether it was his or yours. God, how you hoped it all belonged to you, how the pool of blood you laid in was all yours. Tears soaked your face, pouring down your temples as your whole frame shook with your sobs, that was the true agony. You'd rather spend the rest of your days fighting for your life if it meant he got to see the sun again. You wished he'd hate you, rather than not feel anything at all ever again.

"Please-" you said again but this time your voice didn't even reach your own ears, you didn't hold that power anymore, "Please, you need to come back! You deserve so much better than this. You're the best man I have even known, you can't die like this, not today, Bucky. Not today!"

By now, the people around you had scattered. They knew your identities and for all the wrong reasons, feared you both. You were grateful for that now, you were alone with him again, as the sun began to set and a chilly New York night began to settle.

Still, you didn't move. You still had faith. Or you were just stubborn. There was no way you'd pull away until someone either pried him off of you against your will, or someone that you trusted showed up promising they'd help.

None of them came, and you remained there, cradling his frame to your chest begging whatever God was listening, to bring him back. You didn't know if one of them heard you, or if it was just blind luck or fate, but you only realised his metal arm was lodged under your body when he moved it.

"Buck!" you cried, cupping his cheeks in your bloodied palms as literal life cursed through your veins. "Oh god, you're ok, you're alive!! You came back to me!"

You managed to hug him close one more time, before he pushed himself off of you. In the process of standing up, his eyes met yours for the briefest second. Again, nothing.

He gathered himself to his feet, wordlessly bending down to grab your hair. He forced you up and you instantly obliged, following him back into the building.

Once inside, he knocked you through a glass door, your body once again absorbing his fury. The pain had dissipated into a dull ache, and this time, you stood up faster. "I can do this all day" you sighed, the lie slipping past your lips with such ease, as if the energy inside your core wasn't running dangerously low.

"What did you just say?" he questioned.

He seemed taken aback, "I said that I can do this all day"

"Who are you?" Bucky yelled, marching towards you, determined to get answers out of you through nothing else but brute force. He slammed you back onto the floor, only to straddle your thighs and pick you up by the collar of your shit. "Why won't you just fucking die!?"

Circling your fingers around his wrists, you searched for his eyes, "Wanna know what keeps me alive?"

"Are you stupid enough to tell me?"

"I might be" you shook your head, "but I'll still tell you"

"Why?"

"Because I know you won't kill me" you cried, "I know you know me. I know you're in there somewhere. The man I love. I know you don't have it in you to kill me"

"Try me" he laughed, drunk with the power you were so willing to give him.

"These-" you panted, raising your arms in the air to show him your cuffs, "These are what's been keeping me alive but I know you won't-"

But you never finished the sentence. He didn't even think twice before ripping them off your arms and throwing them onto the floor, along with all the other mess you two had made.

You never thought he'd actually spare you. So it wasn't a surprise when the first thing he did after freeing you, was reach for his knife with the sole purpose of driving it through your chest.

But you were faster. You framed his face into your palms, releasing the energy from your body and allowing it to flow through his. It felt weird, wrong and chaotic, and the power surge wiggled itself out of your control, until a blast between your bodies sent you both flying back across the room, falling down onto the floor.

And this time none of you stood up.

"I leave them alone for what, a day?" Tony sighed, walking out of his Iron Man suit.

"Holy shit!" Steve cried out, his knees betraying him as he tried to rush to you.

"No, wait!" Nat stopped him, "You can't wake them up until we get them somewhere safe. We need to make new cuffs for Y/n, and find a way to keep Bucky contained in case, you know… he's still not Bucky"

Steve was fuming with anger, nostrils flaring, "These are my friends you're talking about!" he exclaimed, pointing to your bodies on the floor, "Your friends too, Nat. You see them like this and the first thing you think about is restraining them!?"

"We need to make sure we're all safe" she sighed with sympathy, grabbing his hand for a comforting rub.

"You make sure you're safe-" Steve scoffed, "I'll make sure they're alive"

"Hey-" Nat stopped him, "If you touch her and startle her in any way, you die!"

Her words hurt him but he knew you never would. Steve felt his heart shutter just imaging what you must have gone through. He was ablaze with pure determination to prove Nat wrong, and to do right by you and Buck. "I carried her in my arms while she was passed out when we rescued her from that facility-" he fummed, pointing at you, "She never knew a man that didn't try to hurt her before. And when she woke up, she was afraid. Scared for her life. She cried in my arms and begged me to not let them take her again! She was never anywhere close to hurting me! She's good. So good. There's only good inside of her, I trust her to not hurt me more than I trust myself, ok? If I'm wrong, so be it. I die. I don't care. She deserves someone to look after her. If I had to chose, saving her would be the way I'd want to go"

His rant left Nat speechless. She just gave him a simple nod and stepped back.

Carefully, he picked you up and carried you upstairs, as Tony put his suit back on and carried Bucky.

Never in your life had you woken up this fast. Your eyes snapped open and you sprung to your feet. 3 pairs of anxious eyes watched you, all of them ready to jump into action in case the situation called for an intervention.

"What-" you gawked, scanning the room, "Where is Bucky? Is he- is-"

"He's fine, Y/n" Steve assured you. He stood up and slowly approached you, arms outstretched. Your first instinct was to go for it, but when you reached him, you placed both your hands in his, and looked up at him with teary eyes.

"Are you sure?" you whimpered, "Can I see him?"

Sympathy took over his features, but Tony jumped in, "Absolutely not"

"What-" you turned to him, "Why? Did I-?"

"You didn't do anything wrong" Steve hummed, engulfing you in a hug even though you remained stiff in your spot. He rubbed your back, eager to soothe your worried mind, but you were too out of it.

“Can I just go?” you whispered, pulling back just enough so that he could see how serious you were, “I need to see him, please”

“Are you mad at him?” Nat asked with caution and your face fell.

“No!” you gasped, stepping away from Steve’s embrace, “No, not even one bit. I know that was not him, I know it’s not his fault. But when Bucky wakes up-”

“If he wakes up-” Tony sneered, roaming around the room. He nursed a glass of whiskey, as a mixture of disgust and exhaustion was readable on his features.

“When he wakes up!” you spoke through gritted teeth. Determination coated your words and the hairs on your body stood as you refused to even think of the alternative. “He will wake up. And I have to be there”

“What if the Winter Soldier wakes up?” Nat asked.

“That didn’t stop me last time”

“Oh, no!” Tony butted in, stepping in between you and Nat, arms outstretched, “You know I’m not one to cry after money, but you and your pal left me with $37 million worth of damage. You two are one broken cup away from getting thrown into the streets”

The sum he mentioned made the skin on your back crawl. You didn’t even have $37 dollars to your name, but it made sense. Your body alone crashed through three TV’s, one gamma ray projector and if you thought about it, you remembered Bucky pulling apart one of the Iron Legion robots, and only the thought made you flinch.

“So-” Tony said, “You two? Never in the same room again!”

“Take these off then” you suggested, pointing at the cuff on your wrists.

“Ha” Tony exclaimed, “A big chunk of that money comes from you frying all my electronics up until the 12th floor. Absolutely not”

“Tony, I’m serious” you whined, “He will hate himself. I need to be there! I need to make sure he doesn’t take all the blame on his shoulders”

He frowned, and sighed. He wasn’t an unreasonable man, and you hoped that core deep inside his chest really made up for a heart. And… it did. None of them were happy about it, but they finally accepted. Nat and Tony would have never probably given up if it wasn’t for Steve - right now, like so many times before, he really did seem like your guardian angel.

They ended up monitoring the room, and Tony waited for your signal, one hand on his cigarette, the other on the Iron Man suit. He was all talk - if anything was to go down and you would actually be in danger again, he wouldn’t even think twice before tearing his towers into pieces if it meant he could get you out alive.

And so you left, thanked them in the form of a simple nod, and headed down the dark hallways.

Oh, how you hated this.

What consumed you now had nothing to do with the pain you had endured in the past 24 hours. Its source was not physical, yet your whole body ached. You felt the weight of the world on your shoulders - and in some way, it was - Bucky was your whole world, and the fear of losing him breathed down your neck.

It had been about 20 minutes since you stopped in front of the door that led to the room he'd been confined in. When FRIDAY announced that Bucky woke up, you rushed over, only for a hazardous sense of anguish to stop you dead in your tracks. Judging by the way he sat in the corner of the room, his fingers aimlessly tracing every indentation in the handcuffs Tony had restrained him with, you had no problem telling which one of him woke up. He broke your heart. His room was equipped with 5 different cameras and 2 microphones. Completely unaware of them, he sat inches away from one, and your heart shattered, sinking 3 stories below when you heard him whimper.

It was soft and quiet. His whole frame shook as he wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve. He was hunched down, brown hair covering his perfect face, but still, his sadness brought you to tears.

You heard him again. He sniffled as he laid back against the wall. His eyes were bloodshot, lips almost white and dry as his chest raced up and down. His muscles clenched and his feet bounced against the metal floor, it was a sight you never wished you see ever again.

Softly, you raised a hand, and thought twice before finally knocking.

"Go away," Bucky called, voice all hoarse and dry as it broke halfway through.

You were able to see him on the small screen next to the door, but he had no idea who came to visit.

Out of instinct, you knocked again before typing in the password and ever so slowly walking inside.

Instantly, he looked up. He was surrounded by an air of darkness and despair, ever so obviously tormented to the peak of his capability.

He stared at you for a few seconds as his eyes watered, and then he gathered his lips into a straight line, shaking his head. "Please, go"

"Bucky, I-"

"Please" he cried, head falling forward as he toyed with the metal edges of his prosthetic arm. He shook his head, "Please, don't do this. Just, go"

You took a deep breath, only then entering the room far enough to actually be able to close the door behind you. Slowly turning back to him, your palms sweated as you had no idea what to say to him.

"Can you talk to me, Buck? Please?"

He chuckled, "About what?"

"About whatever it is you think you did wrong, I-"

As he heard your words, his hands instantly flew up to cover his face. He was, however, stopped, as the cuffs on his left wrist kept him from moving too much. While a new row of tears flooded his cheeks, his eyes met yours, "Look at me.. I need to be restrained while you're alone with me"

"Those cuffs would literally do nothing to stop you from escaping, and you know it"

"Maybe it's just a sense of reassurance"

"To who?" you scoffed.

"To them" Bucky responded, nodding his head towards one of the cameras. "I'm a monster" he added, wiggling his cuff restrained hand, "I'm a danger to everyone"

"Oh for fucks sake" you rolled your eyes, marching up to him. With absolutely no remorse, you grabbed his hand and harshly pulled apart the metal that had him restrained to the bed. Before he got a chance to say anything, you bent down, unclipped the microphone from the foot of the bed, threw it on the floor, and stepped on it, until it was nothing but a small pile of shattered plastic.

And you kept going, destroying the second microphone along with the 5 cameras on the walls as Bucky watched you with surprise. You finished by going for the door and locking it from the inside. "You think I'm afraid of you?" you asked softly, "For 6 hours you did your best to kill me and failed miserably. Look at me, I'm unscathed"

"Did you hear yourself?" he cringed, shaking his head, "I tried to kill you"

"Ok, I know I said that you did your best-" you said, mentally scolding yourself for the error in communication. "We both know that wasn't you. That wasn't you, Buck. It was Hydra. It was the winter soldier, not you. My Bucky would never-"

"Y/n-" he stopped you, "I know you don't see things the way I do-"

"But I see them the right way"

"Listen-" Bucky sighed, driving his hands through his hair. For the first time that night you actually saw his full face, his cheek and signature scowl, his blue eyes and the tilt of the corner of his mouth - your soul melted when you associated the picture with the words that came out of his mouth. "I can't blame you for being here. I can't. If the roles were reversed, I'd be doing the exact same thing. But, holy fuck-" he sighed, pausing to gather his thoughts. Bucky looked you up and down. His lips quivered and his head fell to the side as a sad smile appeared on his lips. "Remember this morning? How we talked about our hypothetical child?" he laughed and shook his head, "Even if I know we could never have a kid because we're both sterile, it was still the most beautiful thought that ever crossed my mind, Y/n''

"Mine too, Buck-"

"And what did I do?" he dismissed your empathy, "Two hours later I was unloading an AK-47 into your stomach, like the brainwashed maniac that I am!"

"Don’t say that!" you exclaimed, "Don't you dare think about things like this!"

"Why wouldn't I?" he threw his hands up in the air, "What does it matter whose fault it is? I get to live with the consequences."

"But-" you breathed out, "We can work through this. You did it before. You can't let something that hydra did dictate your life, Bucky. You deserve so much better. You deserve to be happy!"

"I tried to kill you!" he screamed, for the first time losing his calm and standing up to be at the same level as you.

"That was not you!"

"So what?" he huffed, "I was there, Y/n! I will never, NEVER get the feeling of crushing your bones out of my head! I felt your neck snap! I choked you with my arms! That is not something I can live with! I can't live a life by your side if every time I look at you I'm reminded of those horrible things I did to you!"

"Buck-" you cried, looking at him from behind too many layers of unshed tears, "Please, don't say that"

"I'm sorry" he responded in the same fashion, his pain coating every word he said. "When I close my eyes I see you laying in a puddle of blood. I can't stop hearing your screams of agony. Agony that no matter how you put it, was caused by my hands. That's not something we can live with, Y/n. You were not made for this. You really do fucking deserve someone that won't wake up one day and try to murder you in cold blood"

"And what do you deserve, Buck?" you quietly asked, searching for his eyes, "To live your life alone? Forever? If you had been with anyone else, this would have turned out so much worse. That cute barista three blocks down that always scribbles a heart on your coffee cup? She's cute, yeah. You deserve to be loved by someone, but if that someone was her, you wouldn't be drowning in guilt right now, Bucky, you'd be mourning her. Yes, you got troubles. Yes, you've got a past more fucked up than anyone else I have ever heard about. That's the kind of shit you can't change. But whatever you do from now on, is in your fucking hands and yours alone. Don't try to tell me you're not worthy of having someone, because that's the fattest load of crap I've ever heard. You're a good man! With a fucked up past! And a dark side that you need to fight! And you have me! I don't care you dropped Tony's piano on my legs, apparently I can take it! I'm here for you no matter what! You don't want to be with me anymore? Fine. But don't you dare push me away, thinking that a ruined future makes up for a ruined past"

"Who's to say I won't try it again?" he asked, "I don't know what triggered the transition. But what if once a week I end up trying to kill you-"

"Apparently you can't!" you laughed bitterly.

"Ok, so I can't" he nodded in approval, "Is that what you want? I should be your rock, your best friend, I should always be there for you. Do you want to have your whole world turned upside down whenever my brain decides to go berserk?"

"See, Buck" you sighed, "Of course I don't want that. I can't fucking stand here and tell you that I do. What kind of credibility would I have then? But you know what I want? You. You and whatever nazi shit that comes along. I want you. To help you. To have you with me. To see you everyday. If every Saturday at 10am you decide you want to kill me, you best believe I'm sacrificing my morning coffee just so we can kung fu around the living room"

He looked at you for a long second, the corners of his lips fighting a hard battle against the hint of a smile that started to show on his features. Eventually he caved and chuckled, shaking his head, "That was a bit funny"

"And fucking true," you cried, going for his hands and bringing them up to your chest. He winced, but you spoke up again, determined to not let his mind torture him.

"I love you, Bucky"

"How do you not hate me?" he choked, shaking his head in disbelief. "Can you seriously look at me and not get even the slightest instinct to run away?"

"Bucky..." you breathed out, cupping his cheek. "How could I run away when I've never seen you in more pain than right now?"

"You're an angel, you know that?"

"I've been called a lot of things" you giggled, "Angel isn't one of them, but if that's what you want, I'll take it"

"Come here" he whispered, wrapping his arms around your frame. He had you nuzzle against his chest, his hold keeping you tight and secure. His heart beat against your cheek and your eyes watered again. There wasn't one thing in the world you wouldn't do for that heart - to make sure it keeps beating, and that it keeps the man you love alive. And content, above all. All you wanted right now was for him to accept the things that happened. You wanted to take whatever weight he was carrying on his shoulders, and put it upon yourself. "I love you so much, Bucky" you cried against his chest as your hold tightened around him, "I hate to see you torn like this. I don't want anything to ever happen to you. It terrifies me. I love you with all that I am. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you. You deserve the world, baby"

"So do you" he whispered, kissing the top of your head.

You felt his chest shake, a deep rumble echoed from the depths of his lungs. You looked up to see him fight back a sob, his eyes wide open, glossy and red, trained down on you, "I love you too much to do this, Y/n. I'm sorry, I don't think I can"

"No!" you gasped, pressing your face back against his shoulder, "Don't do that. You can't do that. No"

"We won't work, Y/n" Bucky said as he brought you even closer, "I can't look at you anymore. I can't look at you without dying inside. You don't want to live with me like that"

"Yes, I do!" you sobbed. "I'll work with anything you give me, I swear there is nothing more I want. Just you. Just you and me. Bucky, please don't do this"

He held you close for what felt like half a second, but rationally speaking, your legs were getting numb. You just stood there, clinging to his body, taking in his scent and listening to his breathing even out until he pushed you away. Oh, how you didn't want to let go. Ever. But you did, and choked back a sob as soon as you felt the cold air of the room brush against the part of your body that had been pressed to his.

"We should get some sleep, Y/n"

"Are you coming with me?" you whimpered, afraid of the answer he might give you.

Bucky shook his head, "I think I'll just sleep here tonight"

That broke you. The shock and terror cut your breath away. It felt impossible - the feeling of losing him. The amount of pain that surged through you. At that particular moment, you felt like cracking your chest open to grip your heart into your hand and pick apart the broken parts. But not even that felt good enough, you were fairly sure you'd be left with nothing. It felt like a slap across your cheek, like a cloth had been placed over your mouth and your legs cut at the knees. It felt like the end.

Optimistic by nature, not even you could deny the reason he wanted to sleep alone. It was clear as day.

"If-" you mumbled, tears coating your face at their own free will, voice shaking as you barely managed to articulate the words over the violent sobs that ripped their way out of your throat. "If I promise to not do anything to try and convince you to stay… can you promise me that in case you decide to leave, you'll come and tell me first?"

"Oh, doll" Bucky broke down all over again, throwing himself at you again. He collapsed on top of you, molding his body around yours. "I promise, angel"

You just nodded. That was all you could do. It took another few moments for you to gather yourself and stop wailing, but you did, and then, with nothing else other than a sad smile, you left.

Your feet carried you to your room, and you were ready to collapse on top of your bed. Eager to cuddle into his pillows. They smelled like that shower gel you got him and you hated it. You wanted his scent. Not even caring how ridiculous it sounded, you padded over to the chair in the corner of your bedroom, the one Bucky uses to discard all his worn clothes.

You wanted to find a shirt he wore, one that smelled exactly like you knew him, but before you reached the clothes pile, your attention was drawn to the window.

Steve was standing there, facing the busy streets outside, hands in his pocket and his head turned in your direction.

"I didn't see you, sorry" you gasped, as your eyes accommodated to the darkness.

"It's fine" he shook his head, "I just figured you'd turn on the lights, you know, like the normal people. Didn't think I'd scare you"

"Yeah, sorry" you sighed, plopping down on the edge of the bed. "I did even think about turning the lights on"

He didn't say anything, but you saw him nod. He knew your pain. He lost enough in his life, and seeing his best friend sink back into his darkness was surely not easy for him either.

"Is he ok?" Steve eventually asked.

You shook your head, "He's too good of a man to be ok"

"That is Bucky" he laughed, and you couldn't help but do the same. The irony.

Steve's curiosity was palpable in the room. Words could not describe the appreciation you had for him for respecting your boundaries and not pushing you in a moment like this. But he deserved to know.

You opened your mouth to explain to him what happened, but as your mind processed everything all over again, you broke down. "I think he's gonna leave-" you cried.

Steve was quick to gather you in his arms, engulfing you in a bear hug, helping you stand on your own two feet. "What do you mean?" he asked, concern tracing his tone.

"I understand him, I do. And I promised I won't try to get him to stay if he doesn't want to. But- but I should've done more, Steve. I should've shown him somehow how much I love him. But I'm afraid he'll leave, and I don't want to live-"

"Hey, hey, hey" Steve hurried to stop you, petting your head softly before urging you to look up at him. "Bucky loves you more than I ever thought possible, ok? There's no question about it. I'm sorry I'm doing this, but I think he'll postpone it anyway"

"What?"

"The man wants to marry you, ok?" Steve smiled, "He asked Tony if he had any work for him so he could raise money. Can you imagine how that went down? He was red like a tomato, but he didn't think twice. James Barnes used the computer to look for rings for you. The Bucky I know? Never would've done this. You brought to life a part of him that no one else has seen before. He loves you. With all that he is. And trust me when I tell you, he won't stand to be away from you. You're his whole world, Y/n. He's my best friend, trust me when I tell you this is something you'll work through. I'll help, we'll all help. You're not gonna lose him, Y/n. He's so beat up about all of this because he loves you this much. He's all yours. If he decides to leave, I need you to be strong because he will be back. I got him back 70 years later. You just need to trust him. Trust his heart, ok?"

"Oh my god" you cried, "I don't know what to say"

"Don’t say anything" he chuckled, "We've been through so much together. All of us. Even if we try, nothing pulls us apart, ok? How many times has Loki died, hm?"

"God, Steve!" you scoffed somewhat amused and pulled back just to hit him, "Did you seriously compare Bucky to Loki!?"

"It got you to smile, didn't it?" he laughed. "But I'm serious. You've both been through so much worse than this. You'll get through this one too. And in case you ever feel like you won't, I'm here, ok?"

"Ok…"

Funny as it all was, it worked. He calmed you down - to some extent. Gave you hope you didn't know existed. If it wasn't for Steve, you probably would have not been able to fall asleep. And even though dreams didn't visit you, and you never relaxed enough to actually get some rest, you just dozed off. All clothed and curled diagonally on the bed, you cuddled Bucky's pillow to your chest as your eyes slowly fell closed.

When you opened them again, it was still dark out. You had no idea what pulled you awake as you struggled to sit up on the bed, but then you heard Bucky's voice again, from the doorway.

"Y/n?"

“Buck?” you gasped, turning around. Only his silhouette was visible, head hung low and hands deep in his pockets. He was leaning against the doorway, silently awaiting your response.

Right then and there, you felt your world collapse. Steve’s monologue made you actually fucking believe things would be fine, but here he was, keeping his promise. In the buttcrack of night, he kept his word, bidding you a much feared farewell.

“Is-” you sobbed, jumping out of bed and rushing towards him. You almost knocked him off of his feet when you flung yourself at him, but he was quick to reciprocate, caging you between his arms. “Is this it? You’re leaving?”

He didn’t say anything which frankly made everything worse. You broke down even further, clinging to his shirt as if it was the only source of oxygen keeping you alive - it sure felt like it.

“Look at me” Bucky urged you, tilting your chin up, “Please?”

You slowly lifted your head, your eyes meeting his.

“I’m sorry, I will make it up to you” he whispered, a frown settling above his tired eyes, “You’ll see”

“What does that even mean?" you questioned, tired and sick of this ongoing conflict that should not even have been an issue to begin with. "You don't have to make up for anything"

"I know you see things like that" he cooed, rubbing his thumb along your cheekbone. He spoke softly, his breath fanning against your skin, somehow, even in this situation, managing to calm you down. "But you can understand me too, right?"

"I don't want to" you shrugged, "I don't care. Why does it matter if I understand you or not if you're gonna leave anyway?"

"I'm not leaving, doll"

"What!?" you beamed, pulling away from his hold and grabbing his face in your palms, "You're not- but you're-"

His whole frame softened, "I'm not here to say goodbye, Y/n. I'm not going anywhere"

"Oh god" you gasped.

"Come on, come here" Bucky chuckled softly, bringing you back into his hold, "I'm staying here. I'm sorry for everything I put you through. You're the most badass woman I know and I managed to break you"

"I love you, Buck"

"I love you more, Y/n" he sighed, "I'll make everything right, I promise"

"Oh, fuck" you breathed out relieved, "Just do whatever you want, I don't care. You're here. That's all that matters."

"And we also need to teach you to fight-" he added, "For real. And find a way for you to take those goddamn shackles off in case this happens again"

"Tony won't be too happy about it" you laughed.

"Fuck if I care-" Bucky said strenly, pointing at you, "Next time, you need to be able to stop me. And fast"

"Maybe it won't happen again"

"Maybe not" Bucky nodded, "But if it does, we need to be ready"

"Thank you" you said, "I know I didn't play this right. I know I literally dismissed everything that you must have gone through today. I'm sorry"

"You don't get to be sorry" Bucky stopped you, "Not after-"

"Then you don't get to, either!"

"Meh" he shrugged, "We'll see"

"Bucky!"

"I love you" he laughed, bending down to pick you up. He planted his hands on the back of your thighs, picking you up with ease and walking you over to the bed. You plopped back against the fluffy mattress with a huff, and giggled as he crawled his way on top of you. Instantly, his lips met yours. It was exhilarating, the kind that made your chest ache. You moaned against his lips as love transpired through his touch. It was overwhelming and the first happy tears of the day streamed down your temples as you arched yourself against him.

"I'm so weak for you, fuck" Bucky groaned, his right arm reaching around your back and pressing you against his chest. "You're everything" he added as he kissed his way along your neck, "I'm all yours forever, Y/n. I love you too much"

"I'm here, baby" you moaned, hiding your face into his shoulder, "You're mine, Bucky. All mine."

His lips didn't leave your body as he pushed himself up just enough to be able to reach the buckle of his jeans. The sound made your core ache, and your mouth watered.

There was no patience in his movements. He barely pulled his jeans down to his knees before ridding you of your pajama pants. He lodged himself between your thighs, his mouth instantly back on yours again.

"Come on" you panted, steading your arms against his strong back. Your legs found their way around his frame, ready to pull him closer.

When Bucky guided his hands between your bodies to align the tip of his cock with your opening, you whimpered in anticipation. Agonisingly slow, he trailed his tip along your folds before reaching your clit. With a blissful moan, he reached further up, tapping his cock against your bare cunt a couple of times before returning his attention back to you.

"I got you, baby" he hummed, pecking your lips. "You ready? Is this ok?"

With eagerness, you nodded and wiggled under his weight, your pussy aching for him. "Yes, yes"

When you felt his cock push past your folds, you moaned out loud, your voice cracking with the pure pleasure that took over your being.

He eased himself in, going all the way until he all but knocked the breath out of you, and he stopped. Bucky reached down to kiss you again, his cock motionless, balls deep inside of you.

He bit down on your lip and you giggled.

"Felt your pussy clench around me, doll" he laughed, "You're good to me"

"You may be all mine, Buck, but I'm all yours too"

"Holy shit" he panted, shaking his head in disbelief. It was as if you weren't real. He'd have pinched himself, but if this was a dream, he really did not want to wake up. So he kept going.

Nibbling at the skin of your neck, he started to pull himself out of you. The slow pace was driving you insane. Your need grew so strong you felt everything. His breath, the way his hair tickled your chin, his strong around around your shoulders, his massive thighs rubbing against yours, every small vein along his cock that drove you closer and closer to the sweetest bliss you had ever known.

He got you all worked up at an agonisingly slow pace, before his thrusts became more and more aggravated. You moaned with each thrust despite your struggles to keep quiet.

"You know how much I love hearing you, doll" Bucky shook his head as he drove himself back inside of you all the way, "Moan for me"

"Fuck, ok" you gasped, and closed your eyes as you started to fall apart. You gripped the bed sheets into your hands and pulled as he kept fucking you, deep and hard.

"You're so good, baby" he groaned, "So, so good for me"

He sunk his teeth into your shoulder, fervently sucking deep, maroon marks all ice your skin. Gutural grounds betrayed his air of self control as a plethora of curse words escaped his lips. "Taking me so fucking well. I can't keep going like this, you're too fucking tight-"

"Cum, baby" you encouraged, voice low and tender as you spoke against his ear, "Cum for me"

"Don’t have to tell me twice" he chuckled.

His thrusts started to become sloppy and irregular, as his eyes flew closed. You missed the blue of his eyes, but his mouth was slightly agape as he panted his way to an orgasm.

His chest heaved against yours, "How do you feel so fucking good?" Bucky cursed, eyes still closed as he barely managed to mumble his words between the numerous grunts of pleasure that forced their way out of his throat.

You gave him no answer, instead just clung to him tighter, "Fuck, Bucky, I'm close-"

"Come on" he encouraged, hurrying to rub your clit. His fingers found your bud in an instant, working experienced, familiar circles that almost drove you over the edge. "Cum with me, ok?"

You nodded, gathering your lips between your teeth. He kept fucking you, harder and faster until he had turn limp under his weight. You came as his name rolled off your lips, and he followed seconds after, pumping his juices deep inside your pussy.

You felt his absolute pleasure as he breathed heavily against your shoulder. He kept going until you were both spent, and then fell down beside you.

"Bucky-" you whined, turning over and curling into his side, the lack of contact making you more needy than ever.

"Yes, darling?" he panted, tapping your chin.

"Nothing. I just love you"

"Love you too, doll" he huffed, spinning you around so you laid on your back.

He effortlessly helped you out of your shirt and plopped down on top of you, his head resting on your bare chest. His warm, right hand cupped your breast as he closed his eyes. He wrapped himself around you, "Hold me" he muttered, "please"

"Always, Bucky" you said, engulfing him in the tightest hold you could muster. Only then did you feel him calm down completely, and there was nothing in the world you could ever ask for.

If you liked it, please reblog and tell me what you thought? :)

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #sebastian stan smut

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emiewritesthings · 5 years ago

Text

locked down with you (1)- jay halstead

jay halstead x fem!reader

summary: a series of scenarios between y/n and jay whilst they quarantine together

requested?: nope but requests are open :)

warnings: language but basically just fluff

a/n: still being in lockdown has made me think about what it would be like to be living with jay during these times. the following is just a strange combinations of scenarios i have thought about. not sure i how i feel about them :/

masterlist

day 1 of lockdown

“is that the last box?” jay called out as he reappeared from his room with a sweaty brow and a large smile on his face. he wasn’t sure if he would ever get used to seeing your clothes hung up beside his own in his wardrobe, or your shows lined up beside his by the door. it was strange, but it felt... natural.

“i think so, wow is it sad that my whole life can be packed up into 5 boxes?” y/n asked, collapsing onto the sofa breathing out heavily. jay let out a small chuckle, before he joined her, melting into the cushions that supported their bodies.

“well that’s not true, that was just your clothes, you still have an entire apartment of things waiting for you back home.” he corrected, with a smug smile pointed. the pad of it flicking her nose, making a childish giggle escape her parted lips. “but who knows by the end of this thing you might need to bring those over too.” jay hummed, leaning closer to her with lustful eyes. in a matter of seconds, his lips pressed lazy kisses against her neck, the sensation taking y/n’s body to a new level of euphoria

“just give it a week, halstead. you will be so sick of me you will have to kick me out.” she challenged, watching as he pulled his lips away from her skin for a moment. allowing their foreheads to rest against one another, eyes both equalling challenging the other to make the next mood. in a moment of weakness, it had been y/n to lean forward, igniting the warmth in their chest.

“if anything, i don’t think i will be able to let you go.” his breaths were rugged, only parting to say the last few words before he reconnected their lips. his hands respectfully running over her body, admiring the way it curved and held its unique shape.

he sure could get used to this.

day 3 of lockdown

“jay!” y/n whined impatiently as she threw her head back to demonstrate just how tired she was becoming. a strange ache running up her spine from the position she was currently sat in. her back arched as she rested against the arm of the sofa. her fingers pinching a pencil as she looked between her sketchpad and the angelic man sat a few centimetres away. “i thought i told you not to move.”

jay’s eyes narrowed in confusion, as he looked up from the pile of paperwork he had to complete by the end of the day. seeing his girlfriend sat in a large hoodie that she had stolen from their wardrobe and a pair of shorts, a look of boredom and frustration etched on her features, he had to question what the hell was going on.

“what are you talking about?” jay asked, in all honesty, he had been so focused on his work that he had tuned the woman out. from the look of art supplies spread over the floor, he could only assume she was occupying her day off with fulfilling her craving to be artistic.

“you know what, it doesn’t even matter anymore,” she sighed, closing up the book in her hands. “it was stupid anyway.” she muffled into the sleeve of her sweater, attempting to walk out of the living room towards the kitchen, a place she had labelled her ‘happy place’ from the moment she stepped into the apartment. slight guilt seeped into jay’s mind as he pushed himself away from the sofa cushions and wrapped her up in his bulky, warm arms.

“i’m sorry.” he apologised, arms trapping her in what only could be described as a bear hug. from her small frame, jay managed to rest his chin on the top of her head, until he brought his face down to kiss her cheek softly. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i’m sorry.” he repeated between each.

y/n felt her mood slightly, reminding herself of the effect the man had on her. she felt like mush in his hands that he was able to sculpt in whatever way he wanted and she had no objections.

“now what do we have here?” he spoke more to himself as he took the sketchpad from her hands, his fingers playing with the edge of the pages until he stopped on a page with a rather large sketch. the pencil lines were faint, but it didn’t take jay a moment to recognise the large image illustrated on the page. “holy shit, y/n.”

feeling her cheeks heat up, she tried to hide her face with her sleeves. she didn’t like to share her work with anyone, with fear that she would be laughed out of the room. but listening to jay’s taken aback tone made the butterflies in her stomach jump without any consideration for y/n’s wellbeing.

“i know it’s not the best, but-.” she attempted to denounce her clear display of talent by breaking out the embrace, but jay only held onto her tighter. using what control he had to turn her around to face him. he had placed the sketch on the coffee table, so he could focus fully on the beautiful woman standing in front of him.

“it’s amazing,” jay assured, his gaze diving deep into the soul present behind the beautiful colours of y/n’s eyes. “you are amazing, i’m sorry i’m so busy.” y/n didn’t need an apology. she knew that jay’s job was much more demanding than her own. it just seemed being forced to do nothing didn’t feel as good as when she chose to do nothing before any of this quarantine business was mentioned.

“do you want some help?” she offered, not wanting to intrude. her teeth brought in her bottom lip to bite in anticipation worried she had crossed the line. jay’s hand reached up to rest on the side of her face, his thumb resting on her chin as he brought it down to rescue her lip.

“you are the best, you know that?”

“ugh, come on, romeo.”

day 9 of lockdown

“okay-.” y/n began as she entered the bedroom, her body wrapped in a towel and her hair leaving water droplets behind her. it was sometime in the late afternoon and jay was laying on their bed. his attention had been caught by a book y/n had brought, but it had been stolen when she had entered the room.

“i don’t know what you’re about to say but i know it’s going to be a bad idea.” jay discouraged, he knew her. he knew her more than anyone else in this world. the way her voice had raised slightly at the end and she was currently avoiding eye contact with the detective, telling him that she was about to make to offer a foolish plan.

“no fair, you have to at least hear me out!” she whined like a child, searching around for her bras that were normally flung in different directions, thanks to a little too happy detective. jay watched her with a loving grin, she made him feel so alive.

“okay, proceed.” he gestured as though he was king of the castle ordering his servants around. flicking her middle finger up at the man, disappearing into the bathroom once again, but her voice could still be made out.

“i want to dye my hair!” jay couldn’t see her face, but he could imagine the little hop she had done in excitement at telling him about her idea. “or maybe shave my head, you know, since lockdown could go on for the rest of the year, it’s not like anyone will see it.”

letting out a deep chuckle, he waited until she reappeared to respond. her body, cladded in sweats (for once ones that belonged to her), collapsed down beside him. curling into the side of his body. she stared up at him dazedly, trying to read the thoughts behind his eyes.

“it’s your body, your choice,” he shrugged, his right hand coming to his side so he could grab ahold of her own. when interlocking their fingers, he made sure to run his thumb over her knuckles comforting. “i don’t care if you shaved off all your hair and your eyebrows whilst wearing a potato sack, you will always be beautiful to me.”

“i love you.” she hummed, leaning up to kiss his lips.

“i love you too.”

day 16 of lockdown

“y/n hurry up it’s on!” y/n heard as she grabbed a few beers from the fridge. as she reached the living room, she grinned at the sight of kevin, kim, adam, will, natalie on the computer screen.

“hey guys!” she squealed, giving jay a beer before putting the rest on the coffee table that the computer currently rested on.

“oh shit, now i owe kevin 10 bucks.” adam whined, his image slightly pixelated from his poor connection. frowning, y/n looked towards jay that was equally as confused. they then turned their gaze towards kevin, who wore a large smug smirk.

“ruzek here betted me 10 bucks that you two would have killed one another by day 14.” y/n let out a snort of laughter, throwing her head back in amusement. of course, kevin had bet in their corner, had it not been for him, jay and y/n wouldn’t have been together in the first place.

“honestly i wouldn’t have blamed you, y/n,” will spoke up, “it takes a saint to deal with jay’s slobbiness. i think i have only ever seen jay clean his room twice, mom always took pity on him.” will chuckled, making jay cower in embarrassment. y/n had seen first-hand jay’s ability to create a mess in a matter of minutes. a stray sock here, an empty pizza box there. before she knew it, they were eligible for Hoarders USA.

“shut up, will, are we starting this quiz or what?” jay changed the subject, trying to get over the embarrassment of being laughed at by their closest friends. in an attempt to cool him down, y/n hooked her pinky around his. offering him a soft smile when he looked up in her direction.

“hope you guys are ready to lose.” she teased, turning back to face the screen. jay watched the way she acted so freely, a kind smile never slipping from her face, her touch soothing his soul. at that moment he couldn’t help but think ‘this will be the woman i marry’

day 34 of lockdown

“-alright, alright i think he’s on his way. i’ll see you later.” y/n rushed out as she jumped off her position sat on the edge of the bed. her heartbeat was thumping against her chest as she shoved her phone back into her pocket, aware the sound of water had fallen silent.

it was jay’s birthday and y/n had been planning it for the past two weeks. unfortunately, it was well known that y/n y/l/n was awful keeping secrets. it was as though when she knew something, good or bad, she felt an immense amount of pressure, which ended in her exploding and spilling all to the one person she normally wasn’t meant to. but she was determined that this would be like the other times. she had gone the extra mile in avoiding conversation with jay, knowing one slip and her whole plan was ruined.

“hey, baby!” jay yelled, y/n’s body jumped in shock. his footsteps growing nearer until he appeared in front of him. his muscled torso on show as his bottom half was hidden away by a large grey towel. jay noticed y/n’s jumpy behaviour immediately, his eyes drawing nearer as he examined her face. “what’s wrong?”

“wrong? with me? pfft, nothing’s wrong with me. absolutely nothing. w-what’s wrong with you?” she rushed out, leaning her weight against the dressing table until her hand slipped and she quickly caught herself before hitting her head on the wood. jay shook his head in amusement, he had been worried for the past few days that he had upset the woman. she was unusually quiet, which normally indicated that something was wrong, considering she hated silence.

“doesn’t matter.”

seeing jay withdraw from her made her want to reach out, but her mind already ticked over to something else. running into the guest room, she reappeared with a shoe-like box. not knowing what to say, she shoved the box in his direction innocently. jay pecked her lips lightly, taking the box and taking a seat as he ripped the sparkly paper she had found in a random drawer.

removing the box lid, he peered into the box with curiosity. in a matter of seconds the teasing look fell from his face, replaced with a loss of words. in the box resided memories that up until that moment had been in the back of jay’s mind. letters that the pair had sent back and forth all those years ago when he had been enlisted in afghanistan. photos from jay’s police academy graduation, dates, christmases anything that held a sentimental feeling y/n wished to recreate.

“y-you kept all this stuff?” he asked, his fingers grabbing a small blue teddy bear that’s fur was slightly matted from the dust that had tainted its texture and colour. the very bear y/n had brought jay the time he had broke his arm back when they were kids, she had forced her mother to buy the bear from the giftshop knowing that it would cheer the boy up. she was right, of course she was right.

“of course i did,” she whispered, resting her chin on his shoulder, watching him study each individual object. “throwing away any of this stuff made me feel like i was throwing a bit of us, you know?” y/n felt stupid, but only the slight blush on her cheeks gave it away to anyone that looked close enough.

“thank you, thank you for everything.” snaking his arms around her, he brought his chest close to his chest. sometimes he felt like they were still the kids that would climb through each other’s windows just so they could hold one another and remind the other they weren’t alone. “i love you so much, i’m so happy i have you in my life.”

the tears brimming in y/n’s eyes were not missed by the detective, he didn’t miss anything she did. she was like art to him, something beautiful, at times a little misunderstood, but beautiful nevertheless. lifting his head to connect their lips, the two took their time, slowly allowing the lust to push its way through. before it could progress any further a loud blare made them jump apart.

“what the-.” jay began, watching as y/n pushed her way off the seat and running out the door. hesitantly he followed, leading his way out of the house until he found y/n grinning childishly.

“happy birthday, man!” pulling his eyes away from his girl, he found the familiar cars driving slowly down the road. the lights on the large black cars blaring as kevin leaned out the front car, whilst adam and kim leaned out the second. with the confusion seeping into the feeling of surprise, he felt y/n leave his side before reappearing. this time, her arms held out a large cake that had clearly been homemade considering the way the lettering that spelt out ‘happy birthday, jay’ slowly got smaller towards the end.

“you did all this for me?” he asked astounded, despite y/n being the most affectionate and loving person he knew.

“of course i did,” she responded as if it was the most ridiculous questions she had ever heard. “i meant what i said jay, i love you. this is the least i could do considering all you do for me.” the heart to heart was rudely interrupted by the blaring of a car horn.

“you guys can do your thing later, just blow out the candles!” adam complained, earning a thwack over the arm by kim. “i mean, totally up to you, buddy. happy birthday!”

jay chuckled, as he took in a deep breath and blew out the many candles that sprinkled over the sweet treat. before he ignored the cheers of his friends and kissed y/n passionately.

“this might just be the best birthday ever.” he grinned.

“happy birthday, baby.”

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anomander-dragnipurake · 4 years ago

Text

Aftermath

A proper continuation of Possessed. I had this scene stuck in my head so I wrote it. There might be more but I make no promises because I'm bad at those and I'm just here to write whatever's fun to me at the time.

“You’re back?” Mario said upon answering the door. He sounded and looked genuinely shocked as if he’d expected to never see Booigi again. He also looked tired; bags under his eyes, his clothing a mess.

“Is it really that surprising?” Booigi faked a nonchalant attitude to hide how awkward this was. He’d considered not coming back at all but… he just couldn’t. He still cared about everyone his past selves had cared about even if it would be easier not to.

Mario half shrugged. “I don’t know. I just thought that since King Boo ran off that one time that you’d… but you’re not really King Boo so… I don’t know. It’s been a couple weeks though so… I just didn’t think you’d come back.” It was hard to tell if he was pleased or displeased by having that expectation proven wrong.

“Well, I’m back. You can send me away if you want though; I’d understand if you’d prefer to never see me again.” It would be heartbreaking but it would at least make navigating this relationship that much easier.

It might’ve been Booigi’s pessimistic imagination but Mario seemed to consider it for a few seconds before shaking his head and stepping back. “No, no, come in,” he said, welcoming him inside with a small hand flourish.

Forcing a cocky grin as if he’d expected that answer all along, Booigi stepped in and… immediately had to fight to keep a level face. The living room was a mess; empty pizza boxes, dirty dishes and laundry littered the floor, coffee table, and couch. It was absolutely disgusting, feeling him with equal parts anxiety and disdain. It was the messiest it had ever been as far as he knew.

“Sorry about the mess,” Mario said as he closed the door, sounding a tad embarrassed. “But uh… your new look is nice.”

“Thanks.” Luigi and King Boo’s fashion senses combined be halfway between casual and fancy with the preference for the colours green and purple. He’d gone out of his way to wear one the green dress shirts today, coupled with a pair of nice jeans it was almost something that Luigi would’ve chosen to wear if he had to dress nice for an event. The shoes were still the same white show-offish ones King Boo had bought because he liked them. He’d also repainted his nail alternating purple and green that morning in part because he’d wanted to but also to differentiate his look a little more.

The silence stretched between them for a few seconds before, needing to say something and wanting a distraction from the horrible mess in the room, Booigi broke it. “What have you been up to the past couple weeks?” Other then making a mess of his house.

“Well… not much really. I just… I don’t know. What have you been doing?”

“Talking to the ghosts at the mansion and… trying to figure out my new existence, who I am and all that shit.”

“Oh uh… any luck with that?”

“Nope! My two halves were basically polar opposites in a lot areas, making me a giant fucking mess.” And he hated it. Feeling so unsure about so many things kind of made him want to break something but also kind made him want to hide somewhere and never come out. He’d been tempted to drink himself into oblivion often, the only thing stopping him was knowing it was more likely to make it worse than to help.

Mario deflated, leaning his shoulder into the wall as he looked away. “Yeah, they were opposites; King Boo was the absolute worst and… Luigi was the best.”

The awkward silence returned because what were they even supposed to say to each other? What had Booigi even come here expecting? He still loved Mario like a brother but there was no way he could have the same kind of relationship with him that Luigi had had. Half of his soul had been King Boo’s for Pete’s sake and Mario rightfully hated King Boo. The fact that this whole thing was entirely King Boo’s fault could only complicate Mario’s feelings further.

Maybe Booigi should just excuse himself and leave. He wanted to talk to E. Gadd and Gooigi too anyway. Navigating whatever his relationship to both of them had become should be a bit easier, right? Since Luigi hadn’t known them literally his whole life. Mario might just need some more time to grieve, Booigi could give him that. But as he took a breath to say that, Mario broke the silence instead.

“I miss him.” His voice was almost a whisper and he didn’t look up.

Booigi’s first instinct was to respond with something rude because no duh Mario missed ‘him’, the tired look on his face and the horrible mess in the living room attested to that far better than words ever could. But there was nothing that could be done about it so why would Mario even bother bringing it up right now? If Booigi said that though, he’d regret it big time later. So instead, concealing his annoyance he said, “I’m sorry,” because apologizing for his existence was all he could do.

Mario didn’t respond. After a couple seconds more of silence, he turned away and walked into the kitchen. Now would be a good time to leave and Booigi probably should, he clearly wasn’t wanted right now, but… he followed.

“Look Mario, I’m not him, not really anyway, and I know you probably don’t want me around right now and I’ll leave soon but first… I just want to say that I still… feel like you’re my brother.” Whom he still cherished and looked up and always would.

In the kitchen, Mario paused and turned around to look at him again at last. “You do?” His eyes were filled with unshed tears.

“He’s like half of me, remember? So of course I do.” King Boo had hated Mario but those feelings felt distant, like a memory of a time long ago. It may not be a universal truth for everyone but for Booigi, in this instance, love was stronger than hate. Which didn’t mean he wasn’t capable of hate; he hated his past selves immensely due in large part to the fact that they’d hated each other with a fiery passion. He wasn’t sure yet if that translated into self-hate but he hoped that he could see himself as a separate enough entity that it wouldn’t. “I’ll leave you alone now though. If you ever want to talk my phone number’s still…��

Mario hugged him. It wasn’t one of his warm friendly hugs but instead one filled with sorrow and desperation. Booigi’s only option was to hug him back. And when he started softly crying on Booigi’s shoulder all he could do was hold him a bit tighter and hope it was enough to be a little bit comforting at least. It wasn’t much or anywhere close to enough but it was all he had to offer.

#My writing #super mario bros #Luigi's Mansion #Booigi #grieving #angst #hurt/comfort

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frodos-bizarre-adventure · 4 years ago

Text

@gingerreggg welp some angst

Heads Up- Part 8 (Joseph x Bust! Caesar)

▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪

"I think we should try completing his arm," Suzi said, gesturing at the lifeless stump now attached to Caesar's right shoulder.

"We can only hope for the best," said a worried Joseph.

Something wasn't right with the elbow-length arm Suzi and Joseph had painstakingly sculpted and attached to Caesar. It hadn't come to life like the rest of him, remaining cold, inanimate, unfeeling clay that only weighed him down.

Yet Joseph was determined to complete Caesar one way or another. The guilt of condemning him to life as a disembodied head weighed on Joseph's conscience. He was just a project at first, but then he became a person. A friend.

He wouldn't-- couldn't -- leave him this way.

Over the next five hours Suzi and Joseph labored in creating the rest of Caesar's arm. Taking references to models of hands, they sculpted a forearm from the heavy clay, followed by a wrist, a palm, and five delicate fingers. Suzi had also bought stick-on false nails from a beauty store, which she stuck on to each finger one by one, while Joseph painted them in a transluscent shade almost identical to a real hand's.

Caesar was filled with uncertainty the entire time, immobilized on the working table while the two artists worked for hours.

Why couldn't he be completed? Caesar thought.

What was going wrong?

Anxious thoughts filled Caesar's mind, fearful of what might happen. He didn't know how his body worked. He didn't know what kept him alive. If something went terribly downhill, how could anyone know how to help him?

He turned his eyes to Joseph, whose eyebrows were scrunched together in a determined, focused gaze. It was enough to give Caesar some level of comfort.

At least he had Joseph by his side.

At least he felt Joseph loved him enough to dedicate himself to this.

-----

Caesar's arm was completed by late afternoon.

It was a splendid sight to behold, with each fine detail nigh identical to the joints of a living person. Even the folds on each knuckle, the creases on the palm, skin impressions and fingerprints Joseph had molded from his own.

"So, Caesar, can you feel it yet?"

Caesar looked uneasily at his new arm, splayed limply across the table.

He closed his eyes, and concentrated as hard as he can. Imagining the arm to be his. Imagining that it was moving under his command.

He strained and grimaced as he struggled to move the new limb, hoping for even the slightest twitch.

"Feel it yet?" Joseph asked.

Suzi clasped her hands together, shaking nervously. "How is it, Caesar?"

For the next ten minutes Caesar struggled and shook, trying to feel the new appendage. But his efforts were all in vain. The arm, though perfect in appearance, was as still and lifeless as any clay was expected to be.

Caesar couldn't feel it.

At last, after much despaired straining, Caesar finally gave up. He sighed and looked up at Joseph with solemn eyes.

"Nothing," he sighed.

Joseph angrily groaned in frustration, clasping his hands against his head and ruffling his own messy hair. What went wrong? It was going so perfectly.

"It...it must be like some sort of tissue rejection," Suzi tried to rationalize. "When a new grafted body part just... doesn't take."

A thought came to Joseph.

"Maybe it's the clay itself. The one I used to make Caesar." he said. "Maybe that specific kind of clay is special."

"Do you have more of it?" Suzi inquired.

Joseph shook his head, defeated. "I...I used all that clay to make Caesar's bust. That was all I had."

"I'm so sorry, Caesar," Joseph sobbed, as tears began to flow from his eyes.

Behind him, on the table, Caesar tried to hop closer to Joseph, to try and offer him some reassurance, but the dead weight of the arm held him back. It was heavy and burdensome, and now Caesar couldn't even manage a single bounce.

Caesar looked away from the lifeless limb.

"I guess we should just take this thing off," he suggested, sadly closing his eyes and bowing his head in surrender.

"This is not my arm."

And so, after a long and hard night of work, the artists were forced to undo their creation. It was quick and painless, care taken trying to avoid damaging the 'living' clay, and once the process was complete, Caesar was once again left with the smooth, rounded bump of a shoulder that he'd previously had.

That he'd probably always have.

-----

"So I guess I'll just be a head forever then," Caesar sighed in resignation.

"I'm sorry, Caesar, we really tried," Joseph wept, apologetically.

Caesar managed a gentle smile despite his dismay. "It's not your fault, Joseph."

"So I guess trying to make the rest of the body is out of the question," Suzi said, looking glumly at the now-disembodied clay arm lying on the table.

After a few solemn moments, Caesar regained his composure.

"So if I can't get a body, I might as well just learn to get used to living like this," he declared. "Could you please get me down from the table?" he pleaded. "I need to be alone for a while."

With a bit of a struggle Suzi placed the bust onto the floor, who began to bounce away to the living room. But before he could make three hops he paused and turned his head around, as he heard a sniffle from Joseph.

"On second thought... I suppose he needs me more," Caesar decided.

The living sculpture bounced his way over next to the distraught artist. "Hey, Joseph, it's okay. I'm okay," he said, trying to soothe his grief.

Joseph sat down onto the floor of his room, and to Caesar's surprise, Joseph gently, but suddenly, embraced him.

"Forgive me, Caesar," he sniffled, hugging his precious creation. His skin had a feel like the clay that it was, malleable and firm, but it was comfortingly warm, and felt very much alive.

"I did this to you."

Unable to hug back, Caesar just leaned himself against Joseph's body, lightly pressing the side of his head to his maker's chest.

"Hey, hey, it's not all so bad being like this," Caesar said. "I'm alive and that's what matters. You made me alive, and I'm thankful for that."

Joseph smiled at Caesar's words, meeting his gaze. He knew his eyes, like the rest of him, were made of polished clay, but they were so full of life, and were without question windows to a beautiful soul, that Joseph couldn't help but feel...something.

At the start Caesar was a project. Then he was a curiosity, then a flatmate, and later a friend. But now, with the way Caesar looked right into him, he now felt almost like something more.

He gently stroked the figure's cheek with his hand. "You're the best thing I have ever made in my life," Joseph said.

Caesar looked down at his truncated torso. "Even if I'm incomplete?"

"You're not incomplete, Caesar. You are perfect in every way, to me."

Both sculptor and sculpture couldn't resist sharing a warm smile.

"Just the way you are."

---------

Dinnertime was once again a pizza delivery, though this time Joseph made sure to latch the front door.

Though resigned to his existence as a bust, Caesar still felt quite disappointed, as he hopped along the floor with a series of squeaky thuds.

"It would have been nice to have a hand, though." he mused.

Joseph, who was sitting at the dining table helping himself to some pizza, gave a hearty little laugh.

"You know what, Caesar?" he said, pausing to swallow. "Maybe you don't need a body after all. Who needs hands, when you have a mouth that can make that?" He gestured to Caesar's watercolor painting, which he had stuck to the fridge with magnets. "Who needs legs, with a nice strong neck like yours?"

"You do," Caesar snarked. "I'd like to see you bounce all day!"

Their playful banter was cut short by Suzi walking into the room, carrying the clay arm. "What do we suppose we do with this?" she pondered.

"Make it into a nice hat rack," Caesar suggested.

"Eh, I guess I'll keep it around," Joseph said. "I might have some use for it, maybe?" He picked up a crumpled old cloth bag from the side of the kitchen sink. "Here, put it in this," he told her.

Suzi reached out to grab the bag, resting the arm on a countertop. Her eyes grew wide with amazement, however, as she saw the design on the bag.

"Joseph? Where did you get this?"

"Oh? That was the bag in the attic in which I found the clay I made Caesar with."

"This design looks like the ones I saw in my Mesoamerican art history classes. Perhaps this might be the secret why that clay was so special..."

"Huh," Joseph shrugged. "Guess we won't be getting our hands on any more of this stuff soon."

He turned to look at the living room where Caesar eagerly bounced toward the TV, as the theme song of the soap opera he'd been following for the last two days came on.

He was less than complete, but he seemed happy and content.

"Not that we'll need more of it, anyway." he added with a grin.

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

(Previous Chapter)

(Next Chapter)

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #gingerreggg #hands of life au #sculptor!joseph #bust!caesar #caesar x joseph #caejose #battle tendency #heads up

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surveys-at-your-service · 4 years ago

Text

Survey #337

“if i showed you my soul, would you cover your eyes?”

What's your favorite brand of chips? I like Lays best. Are you a good painter? My Painting teacher when I was in college last said I did wonderfully, but I definitely beg to differ. Before buying a car, do you usually test drive it? N/A Have you ever written a poem and then read it aloud? No, but a teacher has. It was so fucking awkward; it was very pacifist, the topic being about war, and it had some depressing tones of death; there was just silence at the end of it, and I still don't know if it was shock or "what the fuck, she's messed up." There was this one guy that went, "Nobody is going to clap at that?", though, which I thought was pretty nice and reassuring. Do you like pineapple? Yeah, I do. Have you ever met your favorite author? I don't have a favorite author. Have you and your best friend ever liked the same person? No. Do you have any freckles? Not on my face (though oddly enough, I did as a kid?), but on random parts of my body. How many different languages can you say goodbye in? English, German, and then Spanish. Do you like or hate the smell of fish? I hate it. Have you ever been to Sea World? As a child, yes. I'd never go as an adult. Do you know someone who suffers from short-term memory loss? I don't know how this is actually diagnosed, but my memory is absolutely fucking nightmarish, almost exclusively in short-term situations. I can remember the most obscure events from my childhood, but not what I said to you five seconds prior. I'm rather sure my medications have made it worse over time. Have you ever read any of John Green's books? I got like, one chapter or less into The Fault in Our Stars before the book got replaced with the Wings of Fire series, so I never finished it. Are you a protective person? I'm an immensely protective person over those that matter to me. Have you ever experienced an earthquake? No, thankfully. I'm terrified of earthquakes. What's one thing that makes everything in life worthwhile? The fact that to our proven knowledge, this is the only one we'll ever experience. What type of waffles do you like? (Plain, blueberry etc..) I prefer plain, but I can eat chocolate chip ones as well as blueberry and strawberry. Have you ever seen the show Wife Swap? Yeah, I actually quite like it. Do you like chicken or beef better? Or do you not eat meat? Chicken, I think. I eat meat, but wish I didn't. What brand of dish soap do you use? Dawn, usually. Do any of your neighbors have dogs? Yes, and they never shut up. Do you believe in fortune tellers? They're money-driver bullshitters. Have you ever been to one? No, and judging by the fervor in the above question, I hope you can tell I never would do so and thus monetarily support them. Do you like regular or chocolate milk better? Chocolate, of course. But I love normal milk, too. Once again, wish I didn't, though. Forcing a cow to constantly reproduce to lactate is pretty fucking cruel. Growing up, did you listen to country music? I actually did. Do you normally wash your hands in warm or cold water? If it's just a quick wash, it's usually cold because our water takes quite a few moments to warm up. However, if I'm looking to thoroughly wash my hands, it's gotta be relatively hot. Do you believe in mediums? I see them in a worse light than I do fortune tellers, so... Like sure, manipulate grieving people for profit, sounds great. Have you ever been to one? Obviously not. Have you ever dated someone on the football team? No. Do you have a gazebo at your house? No. Do you like tomatoes? Solely when straight from a garden and on a bacon and mayonnaise sandwich. Otherwise I am noooot a fan. Are you a competitive person? Not very, but there's a tiny spark in me, really when it just comes to photography. I hate it. Google or Bing? Does literally anyone use Bing? What's your favorite brand of bottled water? Essentia. Do you have any ceramic animals in your house or outside? Ummm I don't think so. Have you ever given someone flowers? Yes. What is something you might eat with a hamburger? Fries or mac and cheese. What is a sport that you’ve always wanted to play, but never got a chance to. None. What is a fruit that you might eat in the morning? A banana. Who might you send a selfie to? I don't send selfies to anyone. About how many pages is the longest book you’ve ever read? I THINK it surpassed 1,000? At least in the high hundreds. Who would you call first after getting engaged to tell them the news? Probably Mom. Around what time do you start feeling tired enough to go to sleep? Truth be told, it's usually arouund 7-8. I rarely make it to 9:00 nowadays. What trends do you refuse to give in to? I don't even know what's trendy right now. What subjects in history interest you most? As dark as it is, I find the Holocaust interesting to learn about. Are you superstitious in any way? No. How do you get rid of anxiety? What a relevant question, being in a partial hospitalization program right now. Coping skills that help me are doing deep breathing, mindfulness exercises, and a little jerk back to reality is splashing freezing cold water on my face. It also helps to talk it out with somebody, just get my feelings into words. Then if it's a true anxiety or panic attack, I have my "emergency" anxiety prescription. Are there any items of jewelry you never/rarely take off? My lip and tragus piercings never do, and I always wear two rings. Do you find yourself correcting people’s grammar often? Not really, no. It just seems rude and snobby to me, honestly, if it's not in an educational setting, like helping someone with an essay. Correcting someone in your average conversation is just... unnecessary, imo. Now if you're talking like in surveys and stuff, I definitely do in questions and such, but I don't point it out. Gummi worms: Yay or nay? Yay, love 'em. What do you do when you have ‘me time’? I only ever have "me" time, so what I always do... Do you lack common sense sometimes? I have a horrible lack of common sense, shit's embarrassing. Have you ever poured glue on your hand just to peel it off for fun? No. How do babies make you feel? "Nervous. They’re so damn breakable." <<<< Mood. Would you/Have you milked a cow? No, and I'm not interested. What really gives you the creeps? #!: seeing a baby move inside its mother's stomach. It will actually make me scream and/or cry because it just grosses me the fuck out. Whale sharks' mouths also creep me out big time. Do you ever eat leftover pizza cold? Yeah, I love cold pizza. When you're wanting a midnight snack, what do you normally get? We normally have cashew bars that I like if I'm really hungry. Which cartoon character would you want to keep as a pet? Obviously Pikachu. My niece loves Pikachu anyway, so she'd be ecstatic to see a real one. Or well, maybe I'd go for an Eevee. Not as dangerous with electricity and all but just as cute and small. Do you like marshmallows? Yeah. If you had the opportunity to live forever, would you take it? No. It would ruin so many factors of the temporary nature of life. Things would lose meaning, get old and boring, it'd be much easier to take advantage of things... There are many reasons why I have no desire to live forever. Hell, I even wonder if I want an afterlife for those same reasons. Did you ever really believe in Santa Claus? As a little kid, yeah. Do you like quesadillas? I like cheese, chicken, and shrimp ones. What's the greatest/most influential song you've ever heard? Ozzy's "Life Won't Wait." Do you prefer to pull off band-aids slowly or quickly? I tend to do it slowly. What was the last thing someone told you that had you at a loss for words? Uhhh I feel like Sara said something, but I don't remember what. What was the last health scare you had? Ugh... I'm kind of living in one now. As my legs have been worsening, I'm becoming increasingly concerned I'm eventually going to need a wheelchair for "walking" longer distances. And mind you, "long" for me is probably short for the average person. My knees do nothing but crack incessantly and burn when I use them, and they frequently feel like they're going to give way, and in a few rare instances, have. It's my own fucking fault for not sucking it up and exercising with my mom in the room, so I'd like to move on. What is your favorite filling for a piece of chocolate? Caramel. Do you enjoy the sound of birds chirping? I do. If applicable, what’s your favorite drug, and why? I don't do drugs, so. What was the last TV show you binge-watched? Avatar: The Last Airbender with Sara. Would you rather eat burgers or tacos? Definitely burgers. I don't like tacos. Did your mother change her maiden name when/if she got marred? Yes. What was the last job you applied for? Did you get the job? Deli worker, and yes. Do you use TikTok? No. What decorations do you have in your bathroom? None. Our bathroom is pretty small. Well, the one we use, anyway. The one attached to the master's bedroom isn't cleaned up yet, but we'll use it in case of emergency. What year was your favourite band formed? (Before people think I'm smart, no, I looked the dates up, haha.) Well Ozzy was Black Sabbath's vocalist, and the band formed in 1968, but Ozzy became a solo artist in 1979. What's your favourite fruit? Strawberries. Have you ever had an out-of-body experience? No. Do you prefer gory horror films or the psychological ones? I prefer psychological. Are you easily paranoid? Yeah. Do you have a favorite obsession? Meerkats and Mark are kinda tied, haha. Are you a workaholic? No. Have you ever given a tattoo before and would you like to? No and no; that would be an awful idea, given I have bad tremors in my hands. Have you ever seen the movie Labyrinth? I actually have not. Would you rather be called pretty or hot? Pretty. Have you ever gotten a serious injury at school? What happened? No. Have you ever performed in front of my large group of people? Yes; I was a dancer for many years. Have you ever fundraised? If so, what for? You know how Facebook recommends making fundraisers for a charity of your choice for your birthday? I've done that for the Trevor Project and two charities for ovarian and pancreatic cancers. Are you wearing earrings right now? Ugh, no, even though I want to be. The first holes in my ears are just too stretched for normal earrings because I wore heavy ones too often, and I just don't have nice earrings. I still want to get very small gauges to put in the stretched holes. Name a singer whose voice makes you swoon? Fall Out Boy's Patrick Stump can do that, holy shit. "America's Suitehearts" does it for me, man. Y'know, when his voice goes all deep. Do your pets follow you when you walk around the house? My cat Roman is quite literally my shadow. Where I go, he goes. What do you do online? I seem to only exist online, really, so I've got a lot on my plate to choose from, yet I'm still bored half the time, haha. I'm essentially always watching or listening to YouTube, I play World of Warcraft for varying amounts of time depending on the day, I scroll through deviantART, check KM periodically, do surveys obviously, "work" at the wikis I contribute to, wander around on Facebook... idk, that's all I really do at least semi-regularly online. Haha oh, wait, I also check Craigslist like... every day for tarantula and hognoses even though I can't currently get either. Let me dream. Do you have any scars on your face? I have a couple on my chin from when I fainted and busted it open. What countries were your grandparents born in? In the US. What was the most damaging relationship (romantic or not) that you’ve ever been a part of? Ultimately, with Jason, because of how it ended. The relationship itself wasn't at all damaging to me, but the breakup shook my entire fucking world. When in your life was your self-esteem at its lowest point? Self-esteem? Now. I'm very unhappy with my weight going back up, my body is just in poor health in general, I'm not employed, not in school... I just feel like a lowlife. Who was the last person you cut out of your life? Do you regret it? I want to say my sister's mother-in-law. Sure don't, considering she revealed her disgusting support for conversion therapy. I'm civil around her in person, but I kicked that woman off my Facebook so fucking quick when I saw that shit. Who is the most attractive person you know personally? That I know personally... I would say Alon, but I haven't seen even a picture of her in forever. Summer, though, shares selfies frequently, and by god is she gorgeous. I know a lot a lot of beautiful women, asldkjf;awe. It's funny that I'm blanking on men, at least involving people I still "know"/are somehow present in my life. Would you rather look older or younger than you are? I'm fine looking my age. Have you ever dated someone who was very vastly different from your “type”? No. What is the biggest project you’re currently working on? I suppose you can count an RP plot as a "project." I'm procrastinating so bad on it because it is going to be A LOT of writing. Is there a person from your past that you wonder about frequently? Who? Take a shot in the dark for me. Who knows you best, excluding romantic partners? My mother. What are your thoughts on human creation? I believe we evolved. How many people have you had sex with? One. Have you ever had a yard sale? Yeah. Have you ever been surfing? No.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''voices'' by motionless in white

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spideypool504 · 5 years ago

Text

Reckless

Audacity

Part 1

Aideku

Aizawa x Izuku

"Izu. You've got to come out. It's been two weeks!" He can hear Kacchan banging on the door outside of his new apartment.

Because he had to move out.

Because the love of his life cheated on him.

Then lied to him and then convinced him that it was his fault that he cheated.

He was doing fantastic and life couldn't be better. Please know how sarcastic he's being. Because he uses sarcasm now.

It's the fifth time Kacchan had come over this week. He had let Izuku stay with him for a few nights but he didn't want to impose on his best friend right after he'd basically cut the man out of his life for his asshole husband who he still loved. So he found an apartment not too far from Katsuki's which was convenient for multiple reasons. It was close to his job when he went in and avoided everyone and just go on patrol till he was forced to go home. He had to keep up his appearances because he worked too hard to claim his title as the symbol of hope to just let it slip away from him. Even when he was working the night shift for his manipulative asshole husband he still worked hard to maintain his status in the hero community.

He owed it to himself, Katsuki and all the other little kids that grew up with a less than ideal life. Katsuki fought with him when he switched his hours to night shift because it meant he wasn't able to do the day raids needed to take down villainous operations when they were least expecting it. They did raids at night but the ones that really truly made differences were the ones they did during the day. The ones to take down the drug lords and sex trades and human trafficking rings. Katsuki was pissed at, not so much Izuku but at Shouta. Him being on the outside of the relationship but having a close bond with both of the men, he saw what was happening and almost went on a rampage. The only thing that kept him from blowing the raven's head right off his body was Izuku's broken and desperate eyes begging him not too.

He should have done it anyway and dealt with an angry Izuku.

He and Katsuki had come so far since their middle school days of the blonde being his bully. Katsuki came out with it the summer before they started high school and admitted to him he was gay and terrified that Izuku would look at him different so he'd bullied him to try to get Izuku to leave him before he could hate him for reasons he couldn't control. The dumb ass came to his senses after his father had gotten sick and he thought he had no one he could really turn too. Till he found himself subconsciously walking to Izuku's house a few blocks down. He took one look at his best friend's concerned freckled face and knew he fucked up.

The blonde cried in his best friend's arms the entire night and spilled his soul to him the morning after. Izuku punched him in the arm hard enough to bruise and explained to him why he was stupid. Izuku could never hate him for being gay because he was too. Izuku explained to him that Katsuki could honest to Kami cut off his arm and he'd still be Izuku's best friend. They laughed and cried some more and then got up to make themselves and Izuku's mom breakfast.

They'd been inseparable from that day on once more until all of this with Shouta happened. Izuku had felt so guilty for abandoning his best friend. He felt ashamed and scared that Katsuki would hate him for leaving their friendship for his marriage. Katsuki tried to explain to him that there was nothing and no reason that could ever make it okay for Izuku's husband to step out of their relationship. Tried to get him to see that his husband was making up excuses but Izuku didn't want to hear any of it at that time. He screamed and yelled and swore up and down that it was his fault that Shouta cheated. That he wasn't giving his husband and their relationship enough attention and focusing too much on becoming the symbol of hope. He cried in Katsuki's arms sobbing that it was all his fault and Katsuki simply told him, "I hate what he's done to you" before he let go of Izuku and walked out of their shared office in their agency they built from the ground up together like they always dreamed of doing.

Izuku didn't bother to put on a shirt as he made his way towards his front door. He turned the latches and undid the deadbolt and let the door creak it's way open to allow his best friend back into his life finally.

"Fucking finally, Nerd. I've been knocking on this door since Sunday. It's Thursday." Katsuki shuffles Izuku backwards and back into his apartment not letting Izuku say anything otherwise. "This place is disgusting. We're cleaning up and then heading out. And don't fucking fight with me. You need out of this place and I will drag you by your damn ear if you try to say a damn word against it. Try me Izuku." Kacchan glare at him from across the room. Blankets, empty ice cream cartons and pizza boxes litter the floor between them. When Izuku just nods and gives him a watery smile Katsuki huffs and gestures him to come hug him. Izuku runs over to him and is about to wrap his arms around his best friend but is stopped by a hand to the face shoving him back. "Nope. You smell gross. I've come up with a new plan. You go take a fucking shower, I'll clean up and then we head out." Izuku is shoved towards the hallway where his bathroom and bedroom are located. "You need to not smell like the inside of an elephant's ass."

With that Katsuki walks back to the living room and kitchen where he hears garbage bags being opened. Izuku huffs in determination to not waste his life away in this apartment anymore and grabs a pair of bright orange boxer briefs and heads to the bathroom to take his shower.

Izuku doesn't really own anything black or dark grey anymore, it hurt to look at the colors that the love of his life wears on a daily basis. He still had black jeans, dishes, his favorite coffee mug, underwear and undershirts and such. It would be ridiculous if he didn't have anything black or dark grey in his possession, but he just can't stand to look at the colors anymore. They don't bring the comfort they once did, the sense of belonging and home.

He also changed his shampoo and conditioner scent, his soap, deodorant and threw out his favorite cologne. He didn't want a single thing that reminded him of his husband. He wanted to find and be Izuku Midoriya once more. He's been Izuku Aizawa for so long, been 'Kitten' even longer and he doesn't know who he is without Shouta anymore so he's decided to start fresh and new. It hurt so much. Almost everything around him had his heart clenching in pain and dread. He misses sleeping next to Shouta, missing sleeping all together. It took more than a lot to get used to sleeping alone and he was contemplating getting a dog to share his space with. He'd have to move out of this apartment and find a pet friendly one but it would be worth it to have someone to share his home with again and find some sense of normalcy.

He quickly finished his shower and towel dried himself off, slipped on his underwear and stepped out the bathroom to head back to his bedroom to get clothes. He made his way in and found a set of clothes laid out on his bed.

"You don't know how to dress yourself if it's not your hero costume." Katsuki was leaning against his door frame with his arms crossed and signature scowl on his face. "Get dressed, I'm done cleaning. We're heading out in fifteen." Katsuki closes the door and Izuku is left to himself once again.

He looks to the outfit and thanks Kami that Katsuki didn't go crazy with the outfit and it actually looked really comfortable. It was his dark purple acid washed skinny jeans, and a pastel purple t-shirt that had 't-shirt' written across it. He's surprised to see it, he knows how much his blonde friend hates those shirts. He quickly gets dressed and was proven right, that it was indeed comfortable. He was grateful. He grabbed the hoodie hanging off his closet door handle and walked out the room to his now spotless and citrus smelling living room.

"How did you-" He turns to Katsuki with a raised eyebrow but was cut off with a glare.

"Don't question my magic. You'll insult me and my abilities." There was movement coming from the kitchen but Katsuki was standing still in front of him in the living room.

"You mean my magic, right?" Shouto comes walking around the corner out of his kitchen with a small smirk in the corner of his lips.

"When did you-" Izuku starts to question when his other best friend appeared inside his apartment but is once again cut off.

"I'm the one that called you and started cleaning before you got here so no, my magic, you bastard." Shouto rolls his eyes and gives them a rare wide smile.

"Sure babe. My bad." Shouto makes his way into the living room and brings Izuku into a warm hug. "Katsuki told me you finally let him in and called me over. You were still in the shower when I got here so I helped clean up. How're you holding up?" Shouto pulls back from the hug and looks at him with a deep concern.

"I'm doing great. Can't you tell?" Izuku gives the couple a shaky smile and takes in a deep breath trying to keep the tears right where they are behind his eyes. He's pulled into the hug again with a second set of arms wrapping around both him and Shouto.

"You don't smell like an elephant's ass anymore but what in the fucking hell is this smell combination you've got going on?" Katsuki wrinkles his nose and Shouto's nose scrunches in distaste when he finally catches a sniff of Izuku.

"I love you Zu, but uh ew." Shouto slowly releases him and takes a step back along with Katsuki.

His ears turn a bright red from embarrassment. "Shouta was the one that always got the shampoo, conditioner and body wash. It was always the same thing and I had an anxiety attack when I tried to shower with it all last week. So I grabbed random things off the shelf and said 'fuck it'." He shrugs his shoulders.

The two across from him cock their heads to the side and scrunch their eyebrows in confused concern.

"Fuck it"? The two asked him in unison.

Izuku shrugs and turns towards his front door to put his favorite red shoes on. He misses the look the couple share behind him and the silent conversation they have. It's interrupted when Izuku's phone lets out a quiet jingle that slowly gets louder till Izuku declines the call. He looked upset to the duo behind him and knew who was trying to get a hold of Izuku's attention.

"Give me the phone." Shouto startles the other two with his blunt and forceful voice. He's set his face to stone and holds out his hand, waiting patiently for Izuku to comply to the demand. The phone starts to ring again and Shouto narrows his eyes at the green haired man standing in front of him. "Now, Izuku." With that he's handed the phone and walks out of the house with a promise to be back momentarily.

"How many times have you answered his call?" Katsuki is soft with his words and puts a hand on his shoulder.

"To many times. He won't give me a real reason why he did it. Or why he lied to me. He won't explain anything just keeps asking for a second chance. I can't Kat. I can't look at him the same and I feel like all of this is my fault." He's taken into Katsuki's arms once again just as his voice breaks and the tears finally start to fall and stream down his face.

"I'm sure Sho is going to have him stop. He needs to first give you time to process the fuckery he did and then he needs to accept whatever decision you make for your relationship." He's given a squeeze around his shoulders and he sobs loudly into the blonde's chest.

He cries for a few more moments and by the time he calms his breathing Shouto is back in the house and has slipped his phone into his back pocket and joined the hug. "Everything hurts. All over. I can't stop crying. I can't sleep." He lets out a frustrated growl and roughly drags his hands through his hair, pulling as he went. "I already know what I'm doing but it's so hard. I can't look at him the same. I don't want him to touch me. I just-" He takes a deep breath and deflates. "I just want a divorce. I don't think I could trust him again like I used too. He cheated on me and then succeeded in making me think it was my fault and let me destroy myself for a whole six months. He was ready to let me throw away everything. My career. My passion. My best friend. Everything." He clenches his hands by his sides and he clenches his teeth in ways that his dentist would despise. "He can tell me he loves me all he wants, but you don't do what he did to the person you love."

Shouto is behind him and rubs his hands up and down his arms, trying to sooth the brokenhearted man in front of him. The dual haired and blonde have seen the once ray of sunshine in front of them cry more times than they could ever count but these cries were different. These were from deep in his soul and heart wrenching, the sorrow he let out had them both seeing red. Such an amazing human should never feel the way he does. He doesn't deserve what happened to him.

"We'll help you, Izuku." Shouto brings attention to himself with the promise he makes.

"With whatever you need. We'll be here for you." Katsuki adds on for good measure. He lost his best friend for half a year. Over his cold dead body was he allowing anything else to happen to his friend. "We love you, Zu."

Izuku gives Shouto's hand that stopped on his shoulder a squeeze in thanks and gives Katsuki a wobbly and watery smile. "Thank you. I appreciate it you guys. I appreciate the both of you."

It's quiet for a moment before Katsuki reaches the absolute end of the amount of mushy he could handle. "Alright! Enough crying! Let's go. We've got shit to do. Starting with getting you something normal to fucking shower with, fuck!" He storms off towards the front door and only pauses to put his shoes on before he's got the door open and demanding for the other two to hurry up.

Shouto rolls his eyes and ushers Izuku towards the door. "Let's go before he leaves us and we have to walk to wherever the hell he plans on going." There's a chuckle in his voice and Izuku has no choice but to giggle because they both know that Shouto speaks from experience for the both of them. They grab Izuku's set of keys and quickly lock up before running to Katsuki who already had his car running and looked like he was about to drive off without them.

That day on Katsuki and Shouto went over to Izuku's new apartment and made sure he wasn't falling any further into the depressive hole he'd dug himself into. They helped him file for divorce and let him cry himself out in either of their arms after they all three went down to the courthouse to turn in the paperwork. It would be another week before Shouta received the paperwork but Izuku was determined to go through with it.

He was taking a stand for himself and not backing down to the sweet words that his soon to be ex husband begged him to come back with. The sweet man he once saw in Shouta Aizawa was skewed and he didn't think he'd ever be able to let him back into his heart the way he had him for 15 years. Maybe after Izuku healed and felt more like himself he would sit down with the man and try to get actual answers from him but for now he didn't want any half asses excuses. He didn't want the begging. The apologies that didn't seem as heartfelt as they seemed. Izuku still loved Shouta but he couldn't trust him, couldn't believe in his words any longer.

For now Izuku had what he wanted and needed. He had himself. He had his childhood best friend that would literally kill for him. He had his herteochomatic best friend that has proven time and time again he'd stick with Izuku through whatever life threw at them. He had his agency he built and ran with his now two best friends after bringing Shouto in as a shareholder over the company. He had the children, young and full grown adult looking up to him as he slowly changed how the world worked. He had found that he had all that he needed staring at him in the face for the longest time.

And he found that he didn't need Shouta to make his dreams come true. All he needed was himself and the support of his friends.

*BONUS*

"Give me the phone." Shouto stared at the device in Izuku's hand trying to restrain himself from taking it from the man. His best friend was hurt more and more and not being allowed to mourn and heal every time that phone rang. He was pissed. The phone lit up and started ringing once more with Shouta's name displayed across the screen. That wasn't even a full minute from the last call that rang through the near empty apartment. 'Keep the flames in check Sho. You're inside a very flammable apartment right now.' "Now, Izuku."

He's finally handed the ringing phone and he doesn't hesitate to step past the broken green man and step outside. Izuku doesn't need to hear what he's got to say.

He slides his thumb across the screen to answer the call and puts the phone up to his ear. Before the expletives can flow out of his mouth he's interrupted. "Kitten I know. You don't want to hear it but please. Please come home. Let's work on this. I miss you. The kids miss you. We just want you back home. We can work on this. This doesn't have to be our end." He can hear that the man is tired. That makes Shouto happy.

"You've got some fucking nerve, Shouta. Your balls must drag on the fucking ground for you to be calling Izuku back to back for only he knows how fucking long." He can hear the man on the other end try to make a rebuttal or comment or something but Shouto's not having any of it. "No! How fucking dare you!? After what you did? Where the fuck do you get off dragging Izuku's heart and soul through a damn minefield and then have the audacity to call him and try to make him feel bad leaving you? This is your last call to Izuku. This is your last call to him till he calls you. And I swear to whatever deity there may be if I find out you've tried to come and see him I will skin you alive till e very single nerve you have is on display and then let Katsuki do whatever the fuck he wants. Using him as an excuse to manipulate Izuku. The only reason you're still walking around right now Shouta and aren't in a wheel chair, hospitalized or otherwise is because that would hurt Izuku even more than you already have. Try me Shouta. I really fucking dare you too." His teeth are clenched and he's nearly panting with trying to keep himself from bursting into furious flames. Shouta used to be a good friend of his, truly. But Izuku is his best friend that drug him out of a dark place and saved his life in more ways and times than he could possibly keep track of. Izuku came before all and above all.

"I understand." Were the last words he heard before he heard the line go silent. Shouto takes a few deep breaths and flexes his hand that isn't holding Izuku's phone and calms himself down before he steps back into the apartment he'd just left.

He walks in to a loudly sobbing Izuku wrapped up in his boyfriend's arms. He looks Katsuki in the eyes and see them on fire. Katsuki had been taking all of what's been happening harder than Shouto but that was to be expected. Shouto just took a few steps forward, slipped the phone in Izuku's back pocket and joined the hug.

They were going to do everything they could to get the ray of sunshine back, come hell or high water.

That was a promise.

#aideku #aizawa shouta #midoriya izuku #cheating #bhna deku #husbands #divorce #ao3 #part 2 #part 2 of 2 #complete #bnha todoroki #katsuki bakugō #Katsuki is a good friend #protective shouto #protective katsuki #Shouto is a good friend

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shayanyaan · 5 years ago

Text

Two Eleven Super

“London is very human-scale,” I am quick to pitch for one of my favorite cities in the world.

Her eyes widen and her face lights up. She nods her head vigorously and points her finger at me, in complete agreement. This is the moment in a conversation when one person articulates perfectly what the other person was thinking but couldn’t quite put into words. B and I have been explaining to each other how both of us are more comfortable living in cities where we can walk or take public transport.

“Oh gosh London, yes! Seeing a London trip on my schedule always fills me with immense warmth. Imagine being able to walk around a city slowly absorbing all that it has to offer, the sights, the sounds, the traditions.”

They say never meet your celebrity heroes because you’ll inevitably find something disappointing. I think the same applies to some of the great cities of the world. But both of us conclude hands down that London does not fall in this category.

“Actually London is not even a celebrity. London is a reliable old friend. A friend that has not lost their sense of culture and tradition. The monuments, the churches ...”

“.....and the bridges across the Thames - each one steeped in history.” We are finishing each other's sentences now. “The railway stations. The tube - a subterranean metropolis beneath a metropolis. The Mind the Gap jokes.”

“And what about the black cabs and then … and then the red double decker buses. Oh the red buses - what an icon! They say tourists take the tube but real Londoners take the bus.”

“Aha! You’re probably right. Flocks of pigeons on Trafalgar square, the shops on Oxford Street.”

“And you can’t forget the ever present murky skies, steady rain, rippled puddles, umbrella bearing pedestrians.”

“Of course you just had to mention the Great British weather!” A disapproving look is thrown. The entire body of humor surrounding the British weather is a road we agree not to go down.

---

I continue to quiz B on some of the other cities that she thought would fit the human-scale bill. New York inevitably comes up as a place she has not only travelled to but lived in. I am glad she brought up New York. Now New York is not an old friend. New York is a person you know you shouldn’t fall for, but you do anyway. There is something about the pace and the madness that sets New York apart from the rest of the US. Something about the people, coming from all corners of the world. To make a living, or even half a living. American dream and all that.

In New York you are acutely aware of the class divide that exists in society. New York is dirty. The subway is full of creaking old trains. New York has JFK and LaGuardia both of which are dismal at best and soul destroying at worst. Oh and Penn Station. Never has there been a more classic case of the mighty having fallen. A complete and utter hell hole out of some post apocalyptic world.

But somehow it all works. Barely. And that is where New York absolutely has you. As you walk around the city, you peel back the layers and beneath all the flaws and scars, you will find a genuinely captivating person. A person that knows how to push your buttons and make you forget the pandemonium, if only for a split second. Through the dollar pizzas on the street corners. Through the sheer magic of Central Park and the museums. Through the Manhattan skyline; hands down the best skyline in the world. Standing next to the Hudson, under the Brooklyn Bridge, with Lady Liberty keeping a quiet watch from a distance, you will be powerless as New York sucks you in. One glittering high rise at a time. Dreamy eyed, you cannot help but stare in wonderment. Hundreds of floors, thousands of windows. What goes on inside? And the lights! Yes so many lights. What could be a better tribute to Tesla, Faraday and the like?

“In general, the east coast of the United States is on a much more human-scale. Relatively small states with trains taking you across borders within a couple of hours at the most.”

“Going west of maybe Illinois, they started drawing great big rectangles for states.”

“And then there’s Texas. Vast open skies in an almost revolting shade of blue. Just as vast are the expanses of highway, further than the eye could see, or care to see. Wide, long and monotonous. Not a single human-scale building in sight”

“And who the hell builds highways passing through the center of a city!? Makes going to get some milk feel like a great expedition to the other side of the world.”

More chuckles.

Then a brief silence, during which I am suddenly reminded of where I am - in a lounge on the upper deck of an A380. A massive ship hurtling through the ether, pushing the speed of sound. A big TV screen near where I am standing silently glares back at me indicating that -50 degrees is but a mere 10 meters from where I am standing. Yet here we are, B and I, chatting like two friends catching up over coffee.

But of course, we are not friends. Not even acquaintances. She is on the Emirates cabin crew. And I am just a passenger.

---

Back at my seat, halfway through an episode of Chernobyl, I pause to stare out of the window. Beyond the wing, which seems to stretch out to eternity, a smudge of orange is forcing its way through the royal blue of the sky. I can hear the muffled yet reassuring boom from the four Rolls Royce engines. It is then that I realize that there is nothing about the A380 that is human-scale. There is nothing about the skies which she inhabits that is human-scale. I've travelled on the beloved Super dozens of times. Yet I continue to be amazed at the size and scale with which she operates. Devouring continents and swallowing oceans. Bringing the other side of the world just a little closer to home.

A friend of mine often describes journeys on the A380 as the closest we can get to the long sea voyages on gigantic ocean liners in the 1930s. And he is right. Two decks with so much space to stretch out. Bars, lounges, showers - no expense spared in ensuring luxury. Imagine peering out of the window from your first class cabin on the Queen Mary and seeing nothing but vast open sea. Right now I am doing exactly the same. Only from 36000 feet above the Earth, and all I can see is the vast open sky. Far below, Moscow and St Petersburg slip behind us. Scandinavia and the Atlantic Ocean lie ahead. As we burn more fuel, over North America, we will eventually settle in the exclusive airspace of flight level 410.

The Boeing 747 is a work of art. Sheer poetry. The Airbus A380 however, is a lesson in outsmarting the laws of Physics. It is an absolute whale of a plane that looks like it should never leave the surface of the Earth in the first place. But somehow it does, through the most languid and sluggish of take offs. Once up at cruising altitude though, it is steady ship all the way to your destination. The ability to punch through the sky without even the faintest of trembles is simply unmatched. I continue to stare wistfully out of the window, thinking about how much I’ll miss the A380 when she’s gone. She’s right up there with the Concorde in that nothing like this will ever be built in my lifetime.

---

Resting my head on one of the fluffiest pillows ever to have taken flight, I gaze at the roof of the cabin - tiny twinkling stars gently coaxing me to drift off into a deep sleep. And frankly, it is not hard to. The bed is completely flat and the mattress is more comfortable than the one I have at home. The blanket is ever so soft. The fake gold and wood around the windows is not something I’d furnish my home with, yet up here in the sky, it somehow adds to the coziness. From my own little cocoon, I can see neither the aisle nor other TV screens. Not a single window shade in the cabin is raised. I don’t remember the last time I fell asleep on a plane without an eye mask. All I can hear are the engines whirling away, and the hushed sound of the air beating against the fuselage - no more than a relaxing white noise.

In the moments between lying down and falling asleep, I am thinking about the countless journeys I’ve made with Emirates over the last two decades. Leaving home as often as I’ve had to, I’ve come to really treasure the sense of familiarity that an Emirates flight brings to me. I’ve never stopped to think about it before but there is a certain warmth and tenderness you feel when you have an old faithful travel companion to share your journeys with. And Emirates has been that companion for me, helping me wipe away the homesickness. Slowly at first, then all at once. The boarding music that says “Hello Tomorrow”. The inflight announcements that say “Tayaran Al Emarat”. The reassuring voice of Sir Tim Clark answering questions on the default podcast channel. The wavy curves on the cabin wallpaper. The cabin crew with their brown blazers and their red hats. When choosing an airline to fly, it is hard to look past this comfort of familiarity resulting from a bond first formed unwittingly, many years ago. And strengthened over numerous journeys from one side of the planet to the other, including this one. Before I can process any more thoughts, I slip into a happy and peaceful sleep. We are probably somewhere over the North Atlantic. But in this moment, it hardly matters.

---

Six hours have passed. B is on hand to wake me for dinner. It seems the crew has saved the best meal till the very end. Three courses this evening, starting with a chick-pea salad that doesn’t make you hate your life with its dreariness. I politely refuse the alcohol but ask for a piece of garlic bread on the side. Which is brought to me, warm, from a basket lined with cloth. The main course is served with the Jeera rice cooked in just the right amount of butter. The ratio of jeera to rice - perfect. The Rajma has the power to rival any dhaba in North India and along with it is a second curry made with melt-in-your-mouth soft paneer. Actual phulkas to go on the side, instead of pita.

And if you're going to go full North Indian with your meal, you need some achaar. Which obviously is on my tray as well. Emirates just knows how to serve Indian food. If I had any doubts about this, they are well and truly shattered when B brings the dessert. Four of the finest pieces of Rasgulla. Sometimes you have a meal so sublime that you are moved to shedding a tear or two. This AVML has been one such.

I call B over one last time to thank her for everything. She passes me a brownie, one very similar to those I’d been wolfing down earlier while talking to her in the lounge. This of course, brings the widest of smiles to my face. Not because I like brownies. But most certainly because of the fact that she had noticed. And remembered. The crew has been absolutely stellar on this flight.

---

Business class. A crew that knows how to pronounce your ridiculously long last name. A crew that has time to engage in conversations with you. Meals served on crisp white table cloths. Meals that come in courses. Flat beds to stretch your legs. Flat beds to rest your weary soul. On a grueling ultra long haul flight across 10 time zones, almost anything that seeks to make you feel more earthly is highly appreciated.

This has been Emirates Two Eleven Super - Dubai to Houston in just under seventeen hours, albeit the best seventeen hours of my life.

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fear-chaos · 6 years ago

Text

Death of Chaos

Orion sat on his couch, reading a love novel while he rested. Today had been a rather boring day for the God of Order, although he didn't seem too bothered by it. He preferred it this way, for things to go by smoothly. The less problems he had to deal with the better, he was not a fan for useless conflict. Although that didn't mean he wasn't good at causing a ruckus when he had to, because he had in the past. As he turned the page, one of the lines stuck out to him and it made him smile. It reminded him of his 'twin', Khorne.

'Love is a chaotic maelstrom of emotions that confuses anyone who deals with it. Love is commonly referred to as the most chaotic emotion that dwells within the heart.'

Between the two of them, The God of Chaos was always the more emotional between the two. He was the 'heart' while Orion was the 'mind' so to speak. Khorne was a mystery all his own, even to his brother who has known him all their life.

"Even after all this time he has never changed. Always such a...dork."

He laughs a little, going to stand up and head to the kitchen for a snack. Sifting through his fridge for something to eat, he decided on a pizza he ordered from last night. Naturally he had put the slices on a plate before warming it up. Cold pizza was horrible. Thirty seconds was what he set the microwave to and he started reading his book again. As the time ticked down, he let the beeping of the microwave influence his humming.

"Hmmm...I might suggest this book to Uncle Phobs, he is a diehard romantic."

Suddenly he felt a stabbing pain in his chest and his head started pounding like a violent drum. The pain was so intense that it drove him to his knees and he screamed out in pure anguish. One of his hands gripped onto his chest as the pain began escalating. The feeling in his head started to become more aggressive, like a fight for his own mind was taking place.

'I know this feeling! This ungodly pain, why....why am I feeling it?!'

That lone thought seemed to be the only one that managed to get through all of the pounding that was taking place in his skull. It felt as if he was being ripped in half, his very being was being torn apart. The last thing Orion thought of before passing out from the pain was Khorne.

A few hours earlier

Khorne shoved his hands in his hands as he stood in the flowery field of Haven, his home. Or at least it was before he left with Orion and he vowed to never return. All he wanted to do was burn the entire realm and send it into despair and chaos. That thought put a smile on his face, though soon it faded as he heard a voice.

"What's this? Little Khorne is on time for once. I never thought I would see the day."

Dehlila, The Goddess of Darkness chuckled a little as she stepped through a portal. The God of Chaos felt his right eye throb at the appearance of his grandmother.

"I would say its good to see you too, but considering only one of my eyes actually function...thanks for hexing it."

Khorne rolled his eyes, something he did often when he was annoyed.

"C'mon Cornelius, you still have attitude problems. You need to work on that."

His cousin, Vort, chimed as he stepped from behind Dehlila.

"Call me that again and I will stuff one of those precious daggers down your throat."

He threaded the God of Toxins, glaring at him. Vort held up his hands, the silver band on his wrist shaking in the process.

"I was just teasing you a little relax..."

Vort chuckled, his ponytail moving as he started walking.

Before Khorne could comment a portal opened up, and his hands balled into fists once he saw the individuals who exited it. The first was Heimen, God of Light. His grandfather. The next was Pendris, God of Water. His uncle. And the last one...his mother. Ophelia, Godless of Magic.

Heimen acknowledged his nephew and wife with a nod of his head, before turning his attention towards Khorne.

"I hope this day finds you well, Khorne."

Khorne had to force himself to speak, the rage inside of him building. And not just his own. These were the ones of split Balance apart, at least some of them.

"It was until I accepted this summons. You said that it was important, I'd like to know what is so important you would track me down."

It was his mother who responded to him, making him gaze at her.

"We...we wanted to invite you and your brother back. This family has been lacking since you two left. I miss you, both of you."

That had certainly thrown him for a loop, a real hard loop. The last thing he had expected to hear was that they wanted the twins back. Ophelia had seemed genuine, she sounded like she really wanted them back. And...he believed her. For all of three whole seconds before he decided to test the offer.

"Does this little offer of yours extend to Uncle Phobs?"

His question got the reactions he more or less expected to get. Pendris went as pale as a sheet, Vort went stiff, holding his arm. Dehlila seemed to growl a little, a hand going to her chest. Ophelia went wide eyed, not sure how to answer. Heimen however simply looked angry, something flickering in his eyes that the God of Chaos could not identify.

"The offer does not extend to that...that abomination. His very being sows discord and pandemonium, his existence is a mistake that should of been corrected eons ago."

"I see...I expected as much."

Khorne hadn't noticed that he had been gripping his palms hard enough to cut the skin. A thin trail of blood dripped down his palm.

"Let me answer your little offer, fuck no. If I had to choose between being a part of this family or death then I will go find Desmond right now."

He took in their reactions before deciding that he had enough. Then he started walking to go leave.

"If you won't say yes then we can just go get Orion."

Vort's words made him pause in his stride.

"You would do what? I couldn't hear you."

"I said we could get your submissive other half. Between the two of you, he is a lot easier to coax. He is a spineless piece of tra-"

The words he was about to speak were lost as Khorne's scythe was through his chest, piercing his soul.

"I still can't hear you."

Before any of the other Gods could stop him, Khorne yanked his weapon upwards and split Vort in half from the chest up. Killing him. The blade of the scythe glistened with the golden blood that ran in the veins of its latest victim. That was when the mayhem started...

A few hours later

The God of Chaos sat down, panting heavily as he tried to recover from his pain. His entire body aches, at least what was left of it. He'd lost both an arm and a leg, the blood that pooled underneath him was a testament. A few new scars would be added to his body as a result. Although...something was wrong. The pain in his chest was starting to building, he felt his soul burn violently. His mind raced as he tried to figure out the cause, before he reached one conclusion: Vort. His soul must of been poisoned, or enchanted to fuck up the one who killed him.

"Huh...I think I am dying..dammit. Am I wrong, Des?"

Khorne looked up, seeing his cousin, Desmond. The God of Death had tears in his eyes but, they would not be shed. Instead he nodded at his dying cousin.

"Yes..."

The situation was important enough that Desmond was going to speak, something he didn't do often. It got him mistaken as a mute a lot.

"I see...oh well."

Khorne shook his head before vomiting a large amount of blood, feeling his head begin to swim.

"Can...Can I get one of your famous last requests?"

He looked at Desmond who had started to approach him, taking a seat next to his cousin.

"Of course."

Desmond calmly strokes Khorne's hair, being gentle as he tried to ease him. He had seen Khorne's death long ago, with the help of Chronos, their uncle. There was nothing to do to stop the poison that had infected the God of Chaos' soul.

Khorne stayed silent for a moment before leaning his head on Desmond's shoulder.

"Lend me one of those little cards you use to talk. A couple of them. I need to leave a few messages..."

The God of Death was a little surprised but he pulled out two of his cards. They were black, with silver writing on them. One of the functions was that they could turn thoughts into voice messages for the desired person. That was the function Khorne would use.

"Thank you.."

Weakly he took the cards from his cousin and held them with as much strength as possibly. Then he thought of Phobia.

'Hey Uncle Phobs...I've uh..got some bad news. And a little good news. Good news is that Uncle Pendris and Vort are both dead. You could say they are...sleeping with the fishes. Get it? Yeah, you'll get it. Hehe...umm..the bad news is that I uh..won't be coming over anymore. Ever, by the time this card gets to you then Desmond would of done his job. I went and got myself killed. I'm sorry...I am so sorry that I went and died. I just wanted to say that I love you and that you were by far the best family to come from those pieces of shit. With love...your nephew Cornelius.'

Khorne blinked back tears as he took a few slow shuddering breaths to help clear his head the best he could. Then, he thought of Orion.

'Hey Oreo! I wanted to tell you that I love you. Weird right? I never drop the L word with you and I realized that...I never said it that much when I should of. I love you Orion, you're the best twin and or other half of my soul that I could of gotten stuck with. I'll never forget when I put that black streak in your hair because I claimed it made you more badass looking. I wasn't wrong. Anyway...I think I should stop beating around the bush. I ummm...I am dying. By the time you get this I will be dead. Man that's depressing as fuck. I'm sorry. I am so so sorry that I went and got myself killed. I left you alone, some brother I am right? I just couldn't stop myself. Vort started talking about you and I couldn't stop myself from just going at him. You know I have always been impulsive. I'm sorry...again. I love you, I always have and I always will. Your dork of a twin, Cornelius.'

Once he finished the second message he let the tears fall, the pain in his chest forgotten by the grief that overwhelmed him. It hurt to know that he wouldn't be able to go bother his brother or go chill with his uncle. He wouldn't be able to laugh with them.

The entire time Desmond waited patiently, hating himself and hating everything. Countless times he had reaped his friends, and even some family. It was knowing why Khorne died that really made him cry. He died defending his brother's name. Desmond would of done the same thing if it had Cyprus who had been badmouthed. Immediately.

"Khorne...its time."

His tone was calm and collected, practiced. Although the shaking that accompanied his tone was not missed by Khorne. The God of Chaos sighed before letting his mind drift to his brother, the pair of them laughing as they goofed off. And that was the last thing he thought of as everything went black and he stopped feeling.

(Yeah...this was a little project I had started doing these past few weeks. It's a big step for me. I know it's sad since I am writing about the death of one of my little bean babies, but I am a sadist.)

#khorne #sadnees #tears #writing #story

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unholyhelbig · 7 years ago

Note

Triple Treble Prompt - Chloe and Aubrey are vampires and have been together since as long as they can remember. But when they meet Beca, they can’t help but feel a connection and drawn to her. Both want to get closer to her, but there is two problems. One, Beca is best friends with Stacie Conrad, a hunter, and Jesse Swanson, a werewolf. Two, Beca doesn’t know that know the supernatural exists.

[A/N; I started watching the lost boys when I wrote this so part of me wanted to do the whole 80′s vampire thing. Anyway, this was a big prompt so I tried my best.]

Chloe drew in a careful breath, one that was easily calculated as she ran her thumb against the edge of the man’s jawline. Her touch wasn’t rushed or hungry, it wasn’t shifting as her hunger grew more. The scent was intoxicating, filling her lungs and burning her throat.

She let out a deep guttural growl, almost inhuman as she ran her tongue softly over the two puncture wounds she had created. She wasn’t messy anymore, not with her movements. It made the man shutter, his chest vibrating as he moaned himself. Not sure where to focus his pleasure as it mixed with pain.

“Chloe.” The sharp voice pulled the woman from her stupor. She shot her eyes open, not speaking, but inhaling with strength. “Get him out of here,”

She let out a groan, pulling back completely from the man. He had his back pressed against the wall, against the dry painted color that she despised in the first place. It was too plain for Chloe- but she knew her wife. She knew that too much would quell the blonde’s nerves. She could sacrifice a bit of color for her lover’s happiness. It was worth it.

“It’s a little innocent fun, Bree.” She said.

The stranger had irregular breathing, his hand moving up to the wound on his neck as he clasped it with the intent of dulling the sting. The pleasure was intoxicating and well worth the random “hook up” that that entailed. He flashed his coffee stare to the woman who had just interrupted the meeting, her equally as stoic eyes scanning over him with mal-intent.

“Beca is coming over,” She squared her shoulders.

Chloe’s expression dropped then, her squint moving to the third party in the room. “Alright, man, time for you to leave.”

“What I-“ he didn’t’ get much of a chance to speak, Chloe grasping his shoulder as Aubrey opened the door, getting a quick and quiet dose of the night summer air. She breathed in softly, getting hints of his blood in her inhale. It was sweet but corrupted by alcohol, drugs, maybe. “Will I see you again?”

“Probably not,” Chloe said bluntly, slamming the slab of wood behind him as he stumbled into the hallway. She wasn’t sure how long he would stay out there, or if he would walk away in his haze. But at this point, it didn’t matter much. He was just a light snack, after all.

Aubrey wrapped her arms around Chloe’s shoulders with practiced ease, pulling the woman closer with contempt. “Oh, now, you didn’t have to be so harsh.”

“And so what if I am?” she said, lifting her chin. She had a bit of rustic red by the edge of her lip, so soft that it was barely noticeable. Aubrey lifted her hand, smoothing her thumb over the area as Chloe leaned into her touch.

“You’ve made a mess.” She breathed out, raising her thumb to her tongue as she cleared the blood from the pad of her fingertip, savoring the metallic taste that always needed to be appeased. “I think we should order some pizza.”

Chloe made a face. The scent of dripping grease and gooey cheese made her stomach churn. She could swallow a bit of it, and make it look like she wasn’t fighting her resolve. What was really appealing was the delivery person, tired from a long night work and susceptible.

“Stop it,” Aubrey warned, always the sensible one “Beca is human, and she needs to eat. Needs to see us eat.”

The redhead nodded, not in defeat, but in understanding. This town was more aware of vampires than any other. The two women could get away with a bit here and there, but people that resided here at the local college had even darker pasts than they did. Hunters with intentions to kill, werewolves with death wishes, even witches that Chloe had learned to single-handedly piss off a few times.

“I’ll call it in.” Aubrey pulled away from her wife, hand lingering on her shoulder for a few moments before she resounded to walking towards the kitchen of their shared apartment. “You’re okay with pepperoni, right?”

“Sure,” Chloe nodded, glancing around. She had made a mess, knocking the magazines off the glass end tables- the potted plant by the door had tipped over. Pitch dirt rushed across the tan tile. She squatted down, piling the catalogs into a neat little pile. Her mind wandered, not to the pizza, or the man that she had just possibly scarred for life. But the woman who was intended to walk through the doors at any moment.

Chloe had been with Aubrey for years, centuries even. She loved her wife, more than anything, she loved her. They were a perfect balance for each other; one a bit reckless, the other calm and collected, if not neurotic. Neither had intended to become so captivated with a small DJ from Barden University. In fact, they didn’t’ plan on staying in Atlanta much at all- a small pit stops a few years ago when Aubrey grew some infatuation with the world of Acapella of all things. Chloe didn’t’ judge, she even enjoyed it a bit herself. But life? It was complicated.

Both women had undeniable feelings for Beca Mitchell, and both had denied it for quite some time.

“Did she say why she was stopping by?” Chloe called out, rising to her feet with a small groan. Her bones weren’t working in her favor tonight. Did it matter? Chloe thought to herself. She didn’t’ need an excuse to see Beca.

“Mm,” Aubrey hummed, leaning against the doorframe of the dining room as she held the phone in one hand. She had called in the pizza order, dressed in a cozy beige cardigan. She looked comfortable, Chloe wanted to pull her into her arms. “She sounded upset like we might finally need to utilize that ice cream in the freezer.”

“Huh,” Chloe knit her eyebrows together, leaning down to scoop the mix of soil into the clay pot. It left a dark residue against the side of her palm. She wanted to run it over her jeans, to get the grimy layer away from her pale skin. But it wouldn’t do her much good at this point. “You think it’s about Jesse?”

Aubrey let out a huff at the name. She despised his kind, not men, but the wolf-like nature that was wicked into his soul. Of course, she was civil, and so was he. They all had secrets to keep, people, to cloak. Jesse had taken up home in the small town of Barden just like they had- she just wished he didn’t feel the need to claim Beca as his own, something she denied to the very core. Not interested, not feeling that spark. She had told them that, all three of them at different times.

“Oh, I’m sure it is.”

“Guess we’ll find out.”

Chloe reached over and pulled the door open by the brass handle. It was cold against the skin of her palm. Beca was standing with her knuckles raised to the wooden surface like she was about to knock before she got the chance. Her face was shaded by the dull color of the moon as it leaked through the walk-way opening. That familiar scent of vanilla mixed cruelly with the spring air. She looked gorgeous, face contorted into one of wonderment.

“How do you always do that?” She squeaked out, eyes scanning over both girls. They were red, Chloe noticed. “How do you know I’m going to knock on the door?”

“I didn’t, I thought you were the pizza guy,” Chloe said, a bit of a smile on her face.

“You’ve been crying.” Aubrey could have been a little blunter about it, tugging softly at her wife’s shoulder pulling her away from the entrance. “Come in.”

Beca didn’t’ have to be told twice. She ducked her head slightly as she entered the small apartment. Her eyes flicked to the bit of dirt by the edge of welcome mat- barely catching a glance at the tinted color of Chloe’s hand. She always felt so safe here- so welcomed.

Aubrey pulled the girl into her embrace as Chloe shut the door behind her. Beca melted into the touch, Aubrey almost a whole head taller than her. The brunette cuddled into her chest, gripping that cotton cardigan like it was a life preserver. Beca sniffed. The ever-badass crumbling under her own emotion.

“What happened, sweetie?” Aubrey had wrapped her arms around Beca, holding her head close to her chest as she rested her chin on it. She gave Chloe a struggled look, not one of desperation, but one of concern.

“I don’t think you would believe me if I told you.” She laughed bitterly, making Aubrey hold her tighter. It seemed to thaw Chloe’s demeanor.

This was different- usually, the three of them got this close when they had one too many. When the alcohol warmed their veins and pushed them closer. Beca would always leave guilty the next morning, balancing her feelings of sleeping with the two girls with her desire to do more.

“Try us,” Chloe said, shoving her hands in her pockets, it earned her a tender stare from dusk-filled eyes. They blinked a few times before closing completely. Beca drew in a careful sigh.

“Jesse told me,” Her voice cracked “that he wasn’t… isn’t human.”

Chloe had to stifle a laugh, Aubrey warning her with a dark squint. Of course, Jesse wasn’t human, they could smell it a mile away. They weren’t either, a beating heart not really in their biopsy. Beca didn’t know that, though. Whatever had possessed Jesse to evade to this fact now.

“The funny thing is,” Beca pulled away slightly, Aubrey shifted her arms, holding the girl into place by the elbows. Not forcing her but letting her know that she was there to steady her if need be. “I believe him.”

“If he’s not human, then what is he?” Aubrey asked with sincerity. It wasn’t’ the reaction that Beca had expected. She expected the goddess of a woman to laugh in her face unironically. Instead, she sat there- worry in her feathers as Chloe moved to lean against the back of the couch.

“He didn’t’ say.” She pressed her lips together, sniffing. “Just that I couldn’t be around him tonight, that it was for my own good… and that,” her nose scrunched up.

“That what, Bec’s?” She asked. Chloe pressed her fingers to her chin, staring down at the floor, she hadn’t expected to have this conversation tonight. Or ever, if she could help it.

“That I shouldn’t trust you.” Beca was timid with her words. Flashing her stare between Chloe and Aubrey. Chloe moved her stare up, it was darker than Beca had ever seen before.

Something about Jesse’s words infuriated the girl. It was one thing to question his own self-control over the human girl, but this was them. They knew their limits and their cravings. Chloe had never once had the desire to sink her teeth into Beca, and from the long talks that she and her wife shared, neither did Aubrey.

There were a lot of things Beca didn’t’ know about them, too many to count. But the biggest had been their refusal to show their primal nature. Something Jesse had well forced out of the closet at this point. If they didn’t’ utter a word now, if they kept their secrets, Beca would start to notice. Start to question that nagging seed that was planted in her mind.

Aubrey knew it was time, returning the same stare back to the woman that she had met back in 1918.

“Yet, you chose to come here?” Chloe asked, bemused.

“I had nowhere else to go.” She said.

Chloe ran her tongue over her bottom lip. She wasn’t sure of herself. She wasn’t sure she could have this conversation again. The same conversation where the counterpart would storm out and question life for a few days. She didn’t’ know if she could wait a few days for Beca though- to feel her touch.

“We need to talk,” Chloe spoke.

Beca surprisingly didn’t pull away from Aubrey. She didn’t’ push closer to her either. Instead, she breathed in. “He was right, wasn’t he?”

“No, he wasn’t.” Aubrey lifted her fingers, brushing a strand of brown hair away from Beca’s sweat coated forehead. “You have nothing to fear from us.”

“But you’re not…” Beca held her breath, eyes flashing towards the ground.

“Human?” Chloe lifted her eyebrows, remembering the placid taste of blood that coated her tongue mere moments ago. The way just being near Beca did the same. How her energy charged off the both of them in thick waves. “No, no we’re not.”

#beca mitchell #chloe beale #aubrey posen #triple treble #pitch perfect #fanfiction #ask #request

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vixensheart · 7 years ago

Text

Earth

“The Earth laughs in flowers.”-Ralph Waldo Emerson

Water glistened as far as Allura’s eyes could see. It was a magnificent sight; droplets of light shimmered where the sun kissed the waves, and Allura could see elegant creatures leaping above the surface in the distance. It was picturesque, just as Lance had said.

“Allura!”

She blinked, turning towards the familiar voice. Lance trotted down the beach, a radiant grin warming his features. He was shirtless, a sight that made Allura flush. “Yes, Lance?”

“Come on, you’ve gotta check out my sandcastle.” He snatched her wrist, tugging her along with him with glee. Allura felt her lips curve up in a smile, and a light chuckle tickled her chest. Lance led her to the rest of the Paladins, who were all lounging around on the sand.

They’d been back on Earth for approximately a week. Everything had been a whirlwind; various meetings with government officials, reunions, debates, and general exhaustion that was beginning to catch up with them all. So when Lance suggested a day at the beach, nary a soul objected.

“See!” Lance said, gesturing with exaggerated grandeur towards a mound of wet sand. Allura raised a brow and cocked her head.

“Oh...it’s...lovely.”

“Thanks! I made the windows from seashells.”

Allura had nary a clue what a seashell was, but she smiled anyway. The more she looked at the, er, castle, the more it began to make sense. Sort of. She looked to Hunk, he was building a similar structure. His had a more building-like appearance, though Allura was still baffled. “You two are very creative,” she surmised. This earned her a few chuckles, and a pout from Lance.

“What, you don’t like my castle?” he said with a pout. Instinctively, she clasped his hand, giving it a squeeze.

“No, Lance, I think it’s lovely. Really.”

Lance beamed, and Allura was breathless.

“Come on, let’s look for more seashells! I wanna make a tower.” He led her back to the shoreline, his giddiness beginning to wear off on her. Hand-in-hand, the two practically skipped across the sand, ocean water splashing at their feet.

The next hour was spent searching for these so-called seashells. Lance showed Allura one; it was white, flat, and circular. When she brushed her fingers across it, the surface was rough, like sandpaper.

“It’s called a sand dollar,” he said. “Sometimes, when you bust them open, you can find little white doves.”

“What’s a dove?” Allura asked. “A sea creature?” This earned her a laugh.

“No, ‘Lura, a dove is an earth bird. There aren’t any real ones in the shell, just white things that look like them.”

Allura rolled her eyes and huffed. “Well, obviously. It’s too small to house a creature. I just don’t know all the names you earthlings have for your creatures.”

A warm hand enveloped her shoulder, and Allura blinked, her gaze captured by ocean blue irises. “Don’t worry,” Lance said, “I can tell you all about them.” Usually lines like these were just part of Lance’s arsenal of cheesy pick-up lines, but this time, there was a gentleness to his tone and a softness in his gaze that Allura could see. It made her heart flip a little in her chest, and her cheeks flush in embarrassment.

“Here.” Lance pressed the sand dollar into her palm, clasping his hands around her own and forcing her fingers to curl around the shell. His skin felt warm against her own, and Allura admired his slender fingers. She smiled at him.

“Thank you.”

The twinkle in Lance’s eye was impossible to ignore. “You’re welcome,” he said. They were close; Allura could see the freckles sprinkled across the bridge of his nose. She’d never noticed them until now. They reminded her of the many constellations they’d both flown through, and the memories made her feel warm inside. They’d fought together, side-by-side, and freed the universe from Zarkon. And now, here they were, alive and well on a beach on Earth.

“A-Allura, I-”

“Hey, guys! The food’s here!” Hunk’s call interrupted them, drawing the two apart. Allura could see a hint of a blush staining Lance’s face, and there was a flicker of a scowl that rippled across his features. It vanished as soon as it appeared, and Lance slipped his hand in her own.

“Come on,” Lance said, “let’s get some pizza.”

Allura rolled her eyes and laughed. She never understood the bizarreness of Earth-food; it was always something new and different. Hunk had insisted on ordering whatever this...pizza was, despite Pidge and Keith complaining that pizza wasn’t adequate beach cuisine. Allura didn’t mind, though, she was enjoying the Earthen experience.

The crew tucked into their food, Lance quietly and eagerly explaining what pizza-making entailed. Allura listened contentedly. She knew Lance was aware that he didn’t need to explain everything to her, but he was so eager to share his culture with her, she couldn’t help but revel in his happiness. His smile was addicting, and Allura still hung on every word.

She could get used to this; life on Earth.

“‘Lura?”

Lance’s nickname for her brought an unbidden smile to her lips. She met his gaze, marvelling at how his eyes shimmer. “Hmm?”

“You okay? You seem a million miles away.”

Allura chuckled. A sudden bolt of courage coursed through her, and Allura found herself lurching forward. She pressed a kiss to Lance’s cheek, much to the shock of everyone around them. Lance blinked, a smile creeping across his lips.

“I’m fine,” Allura said. “Now hand me some of this pizza you’ve been telling me about.”

Lance obliged, his eyes sparkling and his cheeks flushed. Allura sighed happily, leaning into him as she nibbled on her meal. Yes, she certainly could get used to this.

This is a day late, but oh well. Have it now. XD

-Kat

#Allurance2k17 #allurance #allurance week #day five #voltron #lance #allura

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jaded-envy · 7 years ago

Text

recipe for disaster

I'll do dishes if you do laundry. I'll clean the living room if you buy me a snack. I'll pretend you're not home when your father comes around if you let me copy your math homework. Maka and Soul are used to negotiating with each other when it comes to household chores. But when Soul ups the stakes for both of them, he may end up with more than he bargained for.

read it here: [ao3] [ff.net]

And here is the second fic to come out of July Camp Nanowrimo! Thank you to @redphlox and @silly-twin-stars, who are both amazing writers on top of being awesome betas - please take a look at their works! I would also highly recommend checking out @bbbutterfingers adorable Soul/Maka fanart, which really helped to set the tone of this fic and gave me life when I was stuck. I hope you enjoy!

Later, Soul would blame Black*Star. Surely it was his fault for what had come out of Soul's mouth, considering he had had to sit through lunch listening to Black*Star blabber on about his new relationship with Tsubaki.

Of course, that was certainly preferable to talking about his love life, which, despite his best efforts, was not treated like the taboo subject it should be. Soul was getting very sick of explaining over and over to Black*Star why he could not just go up to Maka tell her that he kinda-sorta-definitely was in love with her. That he must have sustained some brain damage from her flinging him around constantly because his mind kept skipping back to the way her eyes sparkled after a victory or how right her hands felt in his. That Soul had never read a romance novel in his life but he felt like he was in one with how much he mooned over the stupidest things she did, like insisting on arranging the books on their bookshelf by color and genre, or making up her own lyrics to songs she didn’t remember well.

But it was cool! He was cool. Everything was totally under wraps. Black*Star knew, of course, because he was scarily good at sniffing out blackmail material. Soul was pretty sure that his threats and reminders of what Maka would do to the both of them if Black*Star blabbed were keeping him mum. For now.

So yes, focusing more on Black*Star’s romance was a welcome change. But getting unwanted details about certain acts performed between his best bro and his sister-weapon definitely tossed his mind into a strange unwanted space, one that mostly involved thoughts of "did he really need to tell me about that" and "I wonder if Maka-"

"Soul, could you cook dinner tonight?" Maka called from the kitchen.

"I'll do it for a kiss," Soul replied automatically.

There was a pregnant pause in which Soul rewound the last couple of seconds and realized, at the same time as Maka, exactly what he just said.

"What?"

"What?" Soul echoed, voice cracking.

Maka popped her head into his room, face creased in confusion. "Did you just…bargain for a kiss?"

"I – what? Nooooo…" Play it cool now Soul, he told himself. She was in the kitchen and probably didn't hear you right.

Her eyes narrowed. "I definitely heard you say you'd cook dinner for a kiss."

Fuck. Okay, just play it off as a slip of a tongue- no no no don't think about that too hard, that is not the path you want to go down right now. It was a mistake, just tell her so.

"So what if I did?"

God dammit.

Maka edged her way into the room, eyebrows furrowed. "Why would you…a kiss? Really?"

Soul shrugged as nonchalantly as he could manage. "Why not? Don't tell me you're chicken."

That set her off, as he knew it would. She crossed her arms and huffed. "I am not chicken! That - that just seems like an awfully big price to pay just to not cook dinner!"

"What, kissing me is that much of a sacrifice?"

She rolled her eyes. "No, knowing you, you'll just heat up some instant noodles and call that good enough."

"I'll make the best damn dinner you've ever had," he snapped, ignoring the fluttering of his heart at her admission that kissing him wouldn’t be horrible.

"Fine!"

Her hand was warm in his as they shook on it.

Challenging glares turned into uncertain glances as they both realized exactly what they had agreed to.

"S-so…"

"Yeah…"

"I'm just, um, going to…yeah…"

"Okay, uh, sounds good."

"Oh, and Soul?"

"Hmm?"

Maka turned back to look at him. He could have sworn that there was the faintest hint of a smile on her face. "I'll expect dinner at seven tonight."

She was halfway down the hall by the time he was able to reply with a faint "okay".

Soul flopped backwards onto his bed, flinging an arm across his face. Setting aside her half of the bargain, which he really didn't think he could deal with right now, she was right - his cooking mostly consisted of takeout and microwavable food. Somehow, he'd have to come up with an amazing dinner within - he checked the time - the next six hours.

He was so screwed.

An hour later, Soul found himself having to make one of the most difficult phone calls of his life.

"Soul, my bro! What's going on! Did you take my advice about Maka yet?"

Soul groaned. "Black*Star, put Tsubaki on."

"No can do, compadre! She's out."

"Where did she go."

"I dunno! I think Maka called a while ago and she went to go hang out with her."

Just great. Did Maka do that on purpose?

He ran through his options. Liz and Patty grew up on the street. He didn't have time to sit through Kid's fussing over the asymmetry of the cooking ingredients. Blair thought a well-caught mouse with a side of pumpkin was the height of gourmet.

He really needed to get more friends.

"How do you make a soufflé?" Soul growled.

"What? Gotta speak louder dude, couldn't hear you!"

"I said, HOW DO YOU MAKE A SOUFFLÉ?”

"A soufflé? Why do you want to know that?"

Soul grumbled out something unintelligible.

"Ohhhhh I get it," Black*Star said slyly. "What did you bargain for this time? Must be something amazing if you're actually cooking a real dinner and asking Tsubaki for help."

"Something like that," he snapped. "Now are you going to help me or not?"

"Sure thing, bro-ta-to."

Soul drummed his fingers on his lap, waiting as Black*Star rustled around on the other end of the line, humming something painfully off-key.

"Well?"

"Hang on dude, Tsubaki's got like, seven cookbooks."

"This is your fault, you know," Soul grumbled.

"Me? What did I do?"

"You were talking about you and Tsubaki and all the gross things you've been doing together, which got me thinking about all the gross stuff you guys are doing, and then it just kind of slipped out…"

"What, did you ask Maka to kiss you or something?"

"I - what?" Soul forced a laugh. "Why would she - why would I - no!"

Black*Star cackled. "No shit dude, seriously? I was just teasing! My man." Soul could almost hear him wipe away a fake tear. "I'm so proud of you -"

"I'm hanging up now,” Soul gritted out.

"What was th - oh hey Tsubaki, welcome home!"

Tsubaki's voice drifted in faintly. "Black*Star, you won't believe - who are you talking to?"

"Black*Star, give me to Tsubaki."

"Hmm, I don't know Soul," Black*Star said, not even bothering to suppress the glee in his voice. "What'll you give me for it?"

"Black*Star."

"I hate to break it to you dude, but I'm in a committed relationship, so kissing is off the table-"

"BLACK*STAR."

"- but maybe if you gave me - Tsubaki, Tsubaki no, I wasn't finished -"

"Hello? Soul?"

"Tsubaki!" Soul nearly sobbed in relief. "Thank god you're home." In the background he could hear Black*Star wailing "you never let me have any fun!"

"Is this about your dinner date?"

"It – it's not a date Tsubaki," he muttered, thankful she couldn't see his flush over the phone. "Just a trade-off. We do it all the time, you know that."

"Mmhmm." She didn't sound convinced. "And this has nothing to do with your crush on Maka?"

"Who -" Of course. Who else? "He told you?"

"There are no secrets between weapons and meiiiisterrrrs," he heard Black*Star singsong.

"Well…he really didn't have to, but yes."

Soul ground the palm of his free hand into his eye. "Is it that obvious?"

"Yesterday, you nearly walked into a pole when Maka took off her jacket because it was too hot," Tsubaki said helpfully. "And last week, you choked in the middle of a sentence because she bent down to retie her shoelace."

"Don't forget the fact that you literally pushed me out of the way so that you could sit across from her on the bus the other day," Black*Star added, voice close to the speaker. She must have put Soul on speakerphone, that traitor. "And how you never shut up about her. Like, ever."

"Go away Black*Star," Soul said absently. A horrified thought struck him, one that made him grip the phone in panic. "Wait, does she know?"

Tsubaki hesitated. "Soul…you did just tell her you would make her dinner if she gave you a kiss. That's…not really platonic." A beat, and then, "Please stop smashing your head against the table. It can't be good for you."

"It was against the wall," Soul told her, voice muffled. He blew out a sigh. "Fuck. Fuck. I'm so dead."

"If it makes you feel better, she didn't exactly say no."

"She really hates making dinner," Soul said, massaging his forehead. "One time, I convinced her to wait in line with me for a new record for six hours if I made dinner for a week."

"Maybe she likes spending time with you, and having you make dinner is an excuse. I mean, don't you usually just heat something up in a microwave or buy pizza?"

"I -" Now that she mentioned it…. He had never examined their bargains that closely, too relieved to have an easy out. "Is that what she told you?" he asked instead, trying to quash the hopes rising in his chest.

"Anyway!" Tsubaki said brightly, completely unsubtle in her avoidance in answering him. "What was it you needed from me?"

She talked him out of making a soufflé, as well as risotto and lobster. (She outright laughed when he asked about beef wellington.) His inexperience with the broiler ruled out skirt steak; her reluctance to condone his use of the stovetop after he confessed that he almost lit himself on fire last time took lamb chops out of the equation. Orange chicken, lasagna, ribs…it seemed like every one of Maka's favorite foods was either too difficult, took too much time, or wasn't special enough for Soul's liking.

"How about chicken cordon bleu?" Tsubaki suggested, ten minutes later. "It's different, and it sounds fancy, but it's really easy and quick to make."

She read the recipe aloud to him from one of her cookbooks. It did seem achievable, even by someone at his level. "Tsubaki, you're a lifesaver," Soul said gratefully, scribbling the recipe down.

"Let us know how it turns out," Tsubaki replied, with what Soul was almost certain was a knowing smile.

"You owe us!" Black*Star cried out as he hung up.

By his third attempt at chicken cordon bleu, Soul was beginning to despair. The first chicken breast had slipped through his fingers and, after a few minutes debate over the cleanliness of the floor, it went into the trash. The second had flown across the room when he had tried to flatten the breasts. This time though, he had washed the chicken in the little metal thing with holes so it couldn't fall out, and had made sure to close the window firmly just in case it tried to get away from him again.

He hefted one of their skillets in his hand, staring at the pink meat in front of him. Third time's the charm, he thought with forced optimism.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Bang!

Soul froze as the front door slammed shut.

"Soul?" Maka came around the corner, concern written on her face. "What was that noi -"

Her eyes flickered between his face and his raised arm with the pan. Her gaze dropped to the innocuous looking meat in front of him.

"Soul," Maka said, very gently, laying a hand on his wrist. "I'm pretty sure the chicken is already dead."

"I - I know that!" he snapped, feeling himself flush. "I'm not - just - go away and let me cook!"

Maka snickered, but dropped her hand and backed away, turning down the hallway. "Best dinner I've ever eaaaaatennnnn," he heard her sing as she skipped off to her room. He resisted the impulse to smack himself with the pan as he heard the door click shut.

Things actually went fairly smoothly after that. Truth be told, he was feeling a little proud of himself as he slid the chicken breasts into the oven and set the timer. The green beans glistened in a bowl as they waited to be microwaved. Even the potatoes had become soft in record time, and easily broke apart at his poking.

"All right," Soul said aloud, rolling up his sleeves and cracking his fingers. Time to work out his problems on these poor, hapless potatoes.

He attacked the spuds with a single-minded ferocity, smashing them into white mash. Bits of potato flecked onto the stove, and the melted butter and milk sloshed dangerously close to the sides of the pot, but Soul was too absorbed in the sweet release of his heightened emotions to care. His anxiety over putting together the dinner, the stress Black*Star and Tsubaki incited with their call, the embarrassing, stupidly huge crush he had on his meister and the apparently inadequate efforts he'd taken to hide it - they all fueled his frenzied assault.

But gradually, Soul started to realize that it was getting more and more difficult to mash the potatoes instead of easier. He had to pull harder to get the potatoes to release the masher, and the mixture seemed to clump together instead of being a smooth, semi-solid dish.

Soul frowned down at the pot. Well…no matter. He just needed to add more butter or milk, right? That's what being a cook is about, he told himself, it's about adapting things to your taste. He took the ingredients from the fridge and poured in more liquid.

Okay. Now…now it was more like soup with occasional chunks of goopy potato floating around in it. In desperation, he churned the mixture harder, and was rewarded by a tsunami of liquid splashing onto his apron and shirt.

"Fuck!" he swore, then quickly covered his mouth, eyes darting to the hallway. Maka's door stayed shut, and after a few minutes of silence, he slowly let out his breath.

With a sinking feeling in his gut, he realized he was going to have to call in for back-up. He fumbled for the phone, every instinct on high alert for a telltale giggle or exasperated huff.

"Hello!"

"Tsubaki," he hissed. “Buddy, pal, only sane person in your household, you have to help me -"

"You've reached the household of Tsubaki and Black*Star," came Tsubaki's pre-recorded voice. "We're not able to answer the phone right now but -"

"If you want to leave an offering to the great Black*Star and his loyal follower -"

Soul hung up before the two minutes of maniacal laughter started. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuuuuck," he whispered, pulling at his hair. He was so screwed, why did he ever agree to this, Maka was going to laugh in his face if she didn't die of food poisoning first, and if she did die, her gravestone would read "here lies Maka Albarn, greatest meister ever, who died due to her weapon's utterly hopeless crush on her and his total inability to master a basic life skill –“

No! he scolded himself, standing up from where he was crouched on the floor. No, that's not going to happen. You were given a chance, and god dammit, you're going to make the best damn dinner and then kiss her silly and then beg for her forgiveness before she Maka-chops you into the ground. And then maybe make out some more if you're lucky.

Buoyed with false confidence, Soul dialed the next number he could think of.

"Hello?"

"Hello?" Soul said cautiously, now too aware of the trickery of modern technology and answering machines.

"Hello?" Kid repeated. "Who is this?"

"Kid, hey man, this is Soul, and I'm uh…kind of in a bind…"

"What's wrong?" Kid demanded. "Where's Maka, is she okay? Liz! Patty -"

"No no no, it's not that kind of problem!" Soul hastened to add. "I just…need your help with something."

"Really?" Kid asked eagerly. Soul could practically hear the stars shining in Kid's eyes. "I'd be happy to assist! What is it?"

"Well…" Soul began. "Well, see, I'm um, cooking something…"

"Ahh. Don't worry Soul," Kid said solemnly. "You and Maka are welcome to stay at my place while your insurance figures out the fire damages."

"No, we don't need - hey!" Soul scowled. "I'm not that bad!"

"I kid, I kid," Kid said, chuckling. "What are you making?"

"Well they were supposed to be mashed potatoes," Soul said grumpily, glaring at the concoction. "But something went wrong, they're all…paste-y and tough, and now I don't know what to do. Also, uh, did I mention that it needs to be done in an hour and a half?"

Kid made a thoughtful noise. "Yes, that wouldn’t be a good start to your date. Hmm…okay, I think I might be able to help you. Could you hang on just a second?"

"It’s not a –" Soul began to say, then sighed. “Sure," he said instead, and proceeded to crumple against the kitchen island, pressing the cool marble to his forehead. How, he thought mournfully, how do I even get myself into these situations?

"Soul?" Maka's voice drifted in from the hallway, and Soul just about gave himself whiplash raising his head off the table. "I -"

"Don't come in here!" he barked, hiding the phone behind his back. He cast around wildly for the pot lid, and frantically tried to cram it on top of the pot. "It's - it's not six, I still have an hour!"

Maka's footsteps paused. "I know that," Maka said patiently. "I just wanted a cup of water."

"I'll bring you one!" he yelled back. "Just - just go back to your room!"

He waited until he heard her door close before he held the phone back up to his ear. "Please tell me that you have a solution for me, Kid," Soul said miserably.

"Well, I talked to Max -”

"Who is that?"

"Our personal chef."

"You have a personal chef and you didn't tell me?!"

"Ow. Please don't yell into the phone. Yes."

Soul closed his eyes and gave himself a minute to mourn an opportunity lost. "Okay," he said at last. "What did he have to say?"

"That you're basically going to have to start over. Sorry. But," Kid continued brightly, "I can walk you through the steps!"

Soul chewed on his lip. "How long would this take?"

"Thirty-five minutes, according to the recipe."

So, allowing for Kid's idiosyncrasies, which would probably be kept in check since he couldn't actually see how Soul’s ingredients and cooking equipment were arranged, more like an hour. Good thing Soul had bought five pounds of potatoes.

"I need to get Maka a glass of water," Soul said finally, "so just hang on a minute, all right?"

Maka looked up from her papers as he tentatively opened her door. Under her stare, he was suddenly acutely aware of the bits of potato in his hair and the patches of milk-butter liquid staining the apron and his sleeves. Any hint of mischief on her face was quickly replaced by concern, and Soul wasn't sure if he was relieved or upset at her expression. "Are you okay?" Maka asked cautiously. "I know you're determined to do this, but I really like this apartment and don't want it to burn down."

"Not you too!" Soul cried, exasperated, as he set the glass down on her desk with a hard clink. Maka scrambled to save her papers from the water slopping out of it. "I know I'm not a good cook, okay, I know I suck at it and I don't have the best track record with stoves, but it's not like I've…exploded a microwave or left the oven on overnight!"

"I mean, I did have to use the fire extinguisher on the mac and cheese you tried making," she pointed out. He threw her a hurt look, and she sighed. "I'm just teasing you, Soul. I know we're not in any actual danger."

The doubt must have shown through on his face, because she rolled her eyes, saying, "Seriously! It's fine. And you don't have to impress me."

"Want to though," he mumbled.

Maka blinked, and Soul felt his face grow hot. "A-anyway I have to get back to cooking," he said loudly, turning to leave before he could make a bigger fool of himself.

"Soul." Maka's fingers curled around his, and he paused, looking back at her. "Don't worry so much," she said, squeezing his hand. "I'm sure I'll like whatever you make for me." She gave him a brilliant, heart stopping smile.

"Hmrgh," he said intelligently.

Maka tilted her head, and the cascade of ash blonde hair over her shoulders did strange things to his stomach. "Huh?" she asked.

"Cook! I - I have - cook!" Soul stammered, before turning around stiffly and marching out the door.

Back in the kitchen, he scrabbled for the phone. "Kid, these have to be the best goddamn potatoes that have ever been created in the history of mankind," he blurted out.

"Oh, they will be," Kid assured him. "Now, take out eight small potatoes, and peel them - yes, exactly eight, it's very important to preserve the perfection of the dish…"

He really had pulled out all the stops, Maka had to admit. There was an actual tablecloth on top of the dining room table, and one of their neighbor's flowers floated in a cup. Her chicken breast, green beans and mashed potatoes steamed on top of one of the few non-chipped plates in the kitchen, her milk in an actual glass instead of a mug or plastic cup.

Soul fidgeted, stealing glances at her as she stopped to admire his efforts. He jumped up when she approached the table, and pulled out her chair for her, face flushed, eyes daring her to comment.

"Thank you," she said instead, smiling. His face deepened in color, and he gently scooted her in before taking his place opposite her.

Five minutes later, Maka found herself missing their squabbles over whether instant noodles counted as dinner, or if she had put too much salt into the spaghetti. At the very least, it would be more welcome than the nervous tapping that was coming from Soul, somehow in rhythm with the frantic beating of her heart.

"Well?"

Maka looked up from her mashed potatoes. Soul was studiously avoiding her gaze, staring at his glass of milk. "Does it taste okay?" he asked, trying and failing to keep his tone casual.

"Oh!" She took a bite of the chicken, chewed and swallowed. Then took another bite, and another - "This is…actually really good?"

"You don't have to sound so surprised," Soul huffed, but looked pleased. There was a smile lurking in the corner of his mouth as he chewed on his food. "This is good," he said, then shot her a sly look. "Best dinner you've ever eaten, huh?"

"I wouldn't go that far," she scoffed, then relented when his smile drooped a bit, "but it is very tasty. Thank you, Soul."

He hummed in response, and the remainder of the dinner passed in a more comfortable kind of quiet.

Maka's nerves came back when the last of the food had disappeared into her mouth and the plates were scraped clean of scraps. She busied herself with collecting the dishes and dumping them in the sink, trying to ignore the buzzing in her chest.

She heard the chair scrape behind her, and the soft padding of feet as Soul slipped next to her. She plunged her hands forcefully into the running water. This is normal, she reminded herself fiercely, we always do the clean up together after dinner, this isn't weird or unusual. But she couldn't help the trembling of her fingers when they brushed up against his as she handed him wet plates and silverware.

All too soon, she ran out of dishes to wash.

"So uh…"

"Well then…"

They looked at each other. "You first," she said.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Maka," he began to say, "you don't have to-"

"A deal is a deal," she said firmly. "You made dinner, so now…." She swallowed. "Now I owe you a k-kiss. I don't go back on my promises."

He didn't look very reassured, shifting from foot to foot and refusing to meet her eyes. Maka took a deep breath and grabbed his hand, tugging him towards the living room.

They sat facing each other on the couch, knees touching, close enough that she could hear the unevenness of his breathing. She hoped her breath didn't smell too much like chicken. She hoped she didn't taste like garlic from the mashed potatoes. Why hadn't she had some gum or brushed her teeth before bringing him over here? What if he hated the kiss? What if he didn't actually like her and it was all just a joke to see how far she'd go to show him up?

But he shuddered as she placed her hand on his knees. His fingers tightened over hers and she could feel how he held her to keep himself from shaking. His gaze flickered over her face and there was trepidation in his eyes as he licked his lips - trepidation and something else. Desire. He wanted this, wanted her.

She closed her eyes.

His lips were soft, so soft and warm. She was suddenly aware of every part in contact with him: the boniness of his knees, the roughness of his hands, the heat of his leg through his jeans. She pressed into the kiss, wanting to feel more, and felt the tip of his nose against hers, the tickle of his eyelashes against her brow, his feathery hair brushing her forehead.

It was a lot more than just the peck she had intended to give him. She drew back. "W-well?" she asked, rather aggressively.

"That was…" Soul began, sounding a little dazed, before swallowing. He cleared his throat. "I think the dinner was worth more than just one kiss."

"What?!" Maka felt an angry flush working its way over her face. "That was - that wasn't the deal!"

"Yeah, w-well, I actually had to cook this instead of just ordering out, and I think I deserve another for that!"

"So?! I cook all the time -"

"Maka." Soul looked straight at her, gaze heavy and serious. "I had to get help from Black*Star. Black*Star."

She hesitated, but groaned. "Fine. One more."

This time he was the one to initiate the kiss. His mouth moved eagerly against hers, mapping out the contours of her lips, becoming progressively surer in his motions. She parted her lips, and he did the same, tongue tentatively pressing itself to hers. He tasted like warmth and a little of what they had eaten for dinner and just a hint of steel.

They broke apart, panting. His eyes were unfocused, the corners of his mouth curving upwards almost despite himself. All she could think of was how handsome he looked, in that moment - how much she had enjoyed feeling him against her, how much she wanted to kiss him again.

"That one didn't count!" she blurted.

Soul blinked, then squinted at her. "What do you mean it didn't count?"

"You-you…you kissed me! I was supposed to kiss you, that was the deal!"

"It's kind of a mutual thing Maka," he pointed out. "Besides, you were the one that said 'just one more'. You should want that to count!"

"Yes well, if I'm going to do it, it's going to be done right," Maka said primly, tossing her pigtails.

Soul rolled his eyes. "Tell that to the laundry. You know, you fold them so they don't get wrinkled, not so that they can get more wrinkles -"

"Stop talking and just -"

Their lips crashed together again as she pulled him to her, and any protests he had died as she took his bottom lip in hers. His hands combed through her pigtails - hers tangled in his mess of hair. He leaned forward, pushing her back onto the couch as he hovered over her. "Maka," he breathed, voice so full with wonder and affection that it sent shivers down her spine. "Maka," he murmured as he kissed her over, and over, and over. It felt - she felt - safe. Happy, like there were bubbles in her stomach that fizzed and burst with every touch of his lips to her own.

Slowly, the heat of the moment trickled away, and Soul shifted to wedge himself between her and the back of the couch, pulling her close. His hands stroked her sides, thumbs rubbing against her hips as he rested his chin on top of her head. She could feel the vibrations through her body as he hummed happily.

"So…I take it that this wasn't just a prank?" Maka asked, half shy, half teasing.

"No!" Soul said forcefully, drawing back from her. "Why - did you really think that?" There was an element of hurt laced into his tone.

She patted his arm. "Not seriously. You made it sort of clear, you know. That you liked me."

He groaned, hiding his burning face in his hands. "Was it that obvious?"

"Maybe a little," she replied. She kissed his fingers. "But that wasn't such a bad thing."

His fingers parted to reveal one crimson eye. "…Really?"

"Mmhmm. You made it clear that the feelings were mutual."

"...They are? Were?"

"You think I'd just make out with anyone?" she asked indignantly.

"I mean," he began, fiddling with the hem of her shirt and avoiding her eyes. "You really hate to lose -"

"I wanted to kiss you, Soul," Maka interrupted. She tilted his chin up, and gave him a soft, sincere smile. "I wanted you to kiss me. The dinner was just a really good excuse for that to happen."

He seemed to accept this, before glancing at her with sly glint in his eye. "Like it was when you agreed I'd make dinner if you waited with me for that Astrud Gilberto record?"

"W-who told you that?!" she spluttered.

Soul was unable to suppress the triumphant smirk growing on his face. "A little birdy told me -"

"Tsubaki," Maka growled.

"Maybe," Soul admitted. He pressed a kiss on the top of her head. "Doesn't matter now though, does it?"

"I guess not," she conceded, snuggling into his embrace. "So…where's dessert?"

Soul squinted at her. "You didn't say anything about dessert. We specifically bargained for dinner."

Maka pouted. "But I want dessert now."

"Fine, fine," Soul said, rolling his eyes. But instead of getting up and grabbing the ice cream that she knew was in the freezer, he hesitated, eyes flickering to her mouth.

A quick, soft pressure against her lips, and then - "There," he said, curling closer to her. "Dessert."

There was a moment of silence as Maka struggled valiantly to suppress her laughter. "Oh my god," she said finally, choking on giggles. "That has to be the cheesiest -"

"Shut uppppp," he whined plaintively, burying his face into a pillow.

"- most uncool thing you've ever said."

"Whatever," he groused, grumpiness ruined by his own fits of laughter. "You make dessert, I officially give up."

"Hmmmm…" she said, pretending to think. “Five kisses.”

"Huh?" he said, lifting his face up from the pillow.

"My payment. Five kisses for dessert."

A smile bloomed over his face, one that sent her pulse thrumming.

"I like this new form of bargaining," he answered thoughtfully, before pulling her closer to seal the deal.

Both Black*Star and Tsubaki eyed the food Soul had placed in front of them suspiciously.

"And you supervised this, Maka?" Tsubaki asked, carefully prodding the noodles.

"Hey, I can cook now!" Soul protested. "Right Maka? The dinner I made for you was really good!"

"It's true," Maka confirmed. Tsubaki did not look very reassured.

"I'm taking Tsubaki's portion," Black*Star announced, reaching for her plate.

"No!" Soul blurted out.

"Ah-HAH! I knew it!" Black*Star pointed an accusing finger at him. "You did something to it!"

"N-nooo," Soul said, "I just uh, made it…specifically for you?"

"You're a horrible liar, god, how did you ever hide your crush on Maka for longer than a week?"

"Very poorly," Maka said, sending Soul a smile to his scowl. "He put about ten chili peppers in yours, just avoid the meat."

"Hah! Is that all! The great Black*Star can handle any spice you put in there!"

Three pitchers of water later, Black*Star was still wiping away his tears with a napkin as Tsubaki smiled at Soul and Maka. "I'm so glad everything ended up going well for you two," she said.

Maka took Soul's hand in hers under the table and gave it a squeeze. "Us too," she replied, looking at Soul, who couldn't stop the grin slipping onto his face.

"It's a relief to finally know we're all on the same page." Tsubaki sighed. "I won't lie, it was quite an ordeal to watch you two dance around your feelings for each other."

"Hilarious though," Black*Star added. "Anyway, congratulations said and done -"

"You didn't say anything, that was all Tsubaki -"

Black*Star leered over the table, grinning madly. "It's time to collect on that favor."

Soul looked at Maka. "I'll trade you -"

"No."

"Ten ki-"

"Nope."

"Twenty," Soul said desperately.

Tsubaki cleared her throat. "Actually Soul, you can't bargain this away to Maka, since she'll be helping you."

The two whipped their heads around to stare at her. "What?" they asked simultaneously.

"Or did you forget that you owe me too, Maka?" Tsubaki said, smiling sweetly.

Maka colored. "N-no…"

"For what?" Soul asked.

"Oh you know, this and that." Tsubaki's eyes glinted mischievously. "A new wardrobe to impress a certain someone, for one."

"Really," Soul said, the beginnings of a smirk working its way onto his face.

"ANYWAY," Maka interrupted, shoving him away. "What's the favor?"

"You're gonna drive me and Tsubaki to wherever we want to go for the next two weeks," Black*Star said.

Soul and Maka looked at each other. "That's it?" Soul asked. "I mean, I don't think both of you will fit on the back of my motorcycle at once, but…"

"In a rickshaw!" Tsubaki exclaimed, clapping her hands together.

"What?"

"What?" Maka sputtered. "You can't be serious."

"We've already rented one!" Black*Star said.

"And planned out our dates," Tsubaki chimed in.

"Which you'll be taking us to, along with to school and back. It'll be awesome!"

"And since the both of you essentially needed the same favor, you can share the load!"

A half hour later of fruitless attempts to escape their fate found Soul and Maka slumped against the couch, glumly contemplating their choice in friends.

"Maka?" Soul put his arm around her, squeezing her tight. "Next time we need help with something, let's never, ever involve Black*Star or Tsubaki again."

"Agreed," Maka said fervently. She nuzzled into his neck. "We'll just keep the bargaining between us. The rewards are better that way, anyway."

He hummed his agreement before removing his arm and turning to face her. "Hey," he said softly. The look in his eyes was warm and tender.

"Hey," she replied, heart fluttering.

His fingers came up to stroke her cheeks as he drew closer. She closed her eyes and felt his breath tickle her cheeks. "Still the best trade-off I ever made," he murmured.

"Mmm," was all she could say as he brushed her lips with his own. This kiss was slow and yearning, and he took his time exploring her thoroughly, pressing soft kisses on her cheeks, forehead, chin, eyelids. It made both her heart and soul burn with helpless affection and love for her silly, sweet boy. "Likewise," she breathed.

Soul pulled her close and planted another kiss on her head. "I'll trade you as many massages and kisses as you want if you do the rickshaw thing."

Maka kissed him back. "Not a chance."

Thank you for reading! Comments and criticism are much appreciated!

#soma #soul eater #my fanfiction #my writing #fanfiction #soul evans #maka albarn #black*star #tsubaki #cooking #recipe for disaster #kisses

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piarou-neelix · 8 years ago

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Surviving VidCon Europe 2017

So, I am slowly getting back to being alive again. So far since crawling out of my bed (for the second time today) at one pm, I have only tripped twice, bumped my head thrice, and spilled/dropped stuff (drink/bread/butter/washing-powder) four times. So yay! :D Now to try and put these past days into words. In only one word is easy: AMAZING. But there is so much more to say than just that it was probably the best weekend I have had in years. So many feelings to describe, so many emotions to be conveyed. And so many people to thank.

Let's start this tale at last Thursday, April 6th, 2017. Under an indecisive sky I waited for Johanna, the fellow Vidcon-volunteer, whom I had only talked to through Skype for an awkward half hour before that day, that was going to stay at my place for the coming nights. With a delay of five hours her bus from Vienna finally arrived at Sloterdijk, and I got to meet her at last in real life. And what luck I had in having her for a guest. Johanna is a young woman with a base state of happiness that is so heart-warming and mind-soothing to undergo and be around, it is almost unreal. That being coupled with a sharp mind and a smart wit made her one of my favorite people I know through the power of the internet almost immediately. The lively and intriguing conversation we had during our short walk through the woods in Castricum after dropping off her bags at my place was a confirmation of my first instincts. After the walk we cooked together, ate our prize, and then played two rounds of Kahuna before going to bed early-ish. Friday we got up at what felt early for me then, but was to become a blessed long sleep compared to the days after. ;) Following a typical Dutch breakfast with bread with 'hagelslag' we took the train to Amsterdam. We started the day with a tour of the more typical touristy locations so Johanna could check them off of her list, after which we went to the Vondelpark where an International Nerdfighter Meeting was organized by good soul Richard. It was the first time in years that I was at a Nerdfighter meeting where I knew less than seventy-five percent of the people. The sun was a bit unsure about it all (though managed to burn me nonetheless), but I think all had a great time. There was songs being sung, games being played, and friends being gained. Johanna, me, and several others had to leave the gathering for a while, because there was a volunteer-training scheduled at the RAI. Other than finally meeting Nick who was our coordinator, I didn't learn much there and then. But I did get to meet more of my fellow volunteers, which was cool. A whole bunch of them joined us at the pizza-place that evening, which made us a group of over 60 for a reservation of 20, but after splitting in two we still had food for all, spread out over two restaurants. All in all, a good day, filled with loads of nice people. Okay, I felt a bit tired from the somewhat too much walking I had done, and my forehead almost gave light from the sunburn, but I figured I would manage. Then again, Vidcon hadn't even started for real yet, for me. :D That happened on Saturday. And oh wow, did it start. So many people eager for an event they had been waiting for for months, if not years. Lines of fans waiting for a chance to meet, touch and take pictures with their heroes, whom they had so far only seen in digital form. And that sea of enthusiasm was compressed to a stream of roiling emotions in the meet-and-greet-wristband-distribution-line. My original shift was a bit over-staffed compared to the understaffed situation at this bottleneck of the first morning, so I was transferred to help out there. And thus I got a first glimpse of what this weekend would entail for me. Hard work, and loads of smiling faces filled with anticipation and joy. In an attempt to entertain the masses while they waited, and to keep myself awake as well, I did some frolicking and goofing around, doing impromptu little dances and pirouettes whenever I had the chance. But as time moved on, it became clear that the lines were filling way faster than we were clearing them, so an extra line was created, and the time for whimsical folly was over. I know for a fact that I was by far the worst wristband-attacher of all times, but looking down and me are not the best of friends. ;) As my shift ended, my neck and eyes were hurting, as well as my fingers. But still, I was filled with an overflowing sense of warmth and happiness just because I was helping people get the best days of their lives. After a short break, and catching the first half of The Vlogbrothers' Q&A, I started what eventually became my favorite shift of the weekend: The Vidcon Booth. Seriously, I was born to stamp passports-of-joy. Enticing people to just go that one more step to get not five, but ten stamps was such fun. Coming up with creative reasons why/how people earned the stamp for “Awesomeness” was the most energy-giving thing I have done in ages. Being on various selfies I had 'forced' people to take for yet another stamp, or just seeing the weird/cute/tender/beautiful selfies being taken right in front of me to earn that precious red blob of ink. Encouraging people to write or draw something on the wall, and then later realizing they had made a little piece of art. All that and more made it the best few hours of 'work' I have ever had. I went across the street for a quick Dirk-van-den-Broek sandwhich for dinner, and then it was time for the Saturday-evening featured-creator-show. Being blown away by the facial expressions and amazing voice of Carrie Hope Fletcher and the wonderful poetry of Savannah Brown made up for the somewhat cringe-worthy Max and Harvey performance. Matthew Patrick closed the night with words of power and honesty that made me want to hug him to make him feel better, and thank him for making so many others feel better. And then it was time for the trip home. The NS had decided to work on the tunnel between Amsterdam and home, so we (Johanna and I) were fearing a replacement bus-service was to be our lot, but luckily the whole weekend we managed to time our travels thus perfect that we could catch the rerouted intercity home. Five hours of sleep is a lot more than four-and-a-half, so we were quite happy with that, indeed. :D My Sunday shifts were a lot less exciting to me. I was room-monitor in the morning, and auditorium monitor in the afternoon. But to be fair, I don't know if I could have handled much else after I started the Vidcon-day with a tumble on the concrete floor. Both my knee and my shoulder were scuffed, and turned stiff quite rapidly. But hey, the show must go on, so I kept doing my utmost best to make everyone around me have the bestest of times at this first ever Vidcon Europe. The morning-shift I decided to be the outside-monitor, as that ensured me to have a quiet start of the day, and meant less walking around with the microphone. But the auditorium was too big to be handled by one mic-walker. And at that point my energy had been adequately replenished by the many awesome fellow volunteers. So I happily went were the panels wanted me to go. The two panels during which I had my shift were very interesting and I will certainly take some of their words with me. In between all of this, there were of course the meet&Greets I myself had the opportunity to have. On Saturday I got to hug Emma Blackery, and give her a bag of fizzy peaches, proving that not all forty year old followers of her are creepy af. Sunday in the afternoon I hugged Hank Green (@edwardspoonhands.tumblr.com this is what I meant when I said I still blame you: http://piarou-neelix.tumblr.com/post/153356577720/i-blame-you), and between my last shift and the volunteer-thank-you-party, I met Hannah Witton, whom I had already met almost exactly two years earlier in Amsterdam. After hugging her, it was straight to the Nedfighter-special event, but that was a bit too noisy for me, so I retreated to the volunteers' little safe-haven of calm and quiet next to registration, where I doled out my ever-present new addiction, Verkade Bites (seriously, don't eat them, or don't blame me). Then it was time for the aforementioned volunteer-thank-you-party, where I managed to grab a bite of food as well. I was amazed to realize I hadn't even met all volunteers yet that were in the room. And all were amazing, seriously. So much friendliness and warmth in one room was invigorating to the soul, and strengthened my already high trust and belief in humanity. A (not completely) surprise-visit by Hank Green, where we caught him in a circle of high-fives, and some completely unexpected gifts were nice unneeded bonuses to an already awesome event. It all ended with the logical end, the Sunday-evening featured-creator-show. We had missed the beginning due to our 'private' party, but saw most of it anyways. Dodie and Jon Cozart were, in my humble opinion, the stars of the evening, and Kwebbelkop surprised me with the way he filled his time on stage in a positive way, but all on stage were amazing this evening. Except maybe for the herring. ;) But as with all things, even the best of the best events have to end some time, and so it went here as well. After hugs and farewells Johanna and I took our leave of the Rai to once again travel to Castricum, and our much needed beds...

...for four hours of sleep. :( Johanna, adventurer as she is, had to go to her next big memory-in-the-making, and had to be at Schiphol at six in the morning. So after a short night, and a very weirdly quiet train-ride, it was time for me to say goodbye to my new friend (for now). She took the one train, that being her first step on the road to India and a new adventure, and I took the other back to Castricum again, and to another couple of hours of sleep. And then, it was all really over. But in my mind, the event will never end. My heart, head, and soul has been changed by all the wonderful people I have met during these past four days, the new friends I made, and the words I heard. Especially the awesome group of volunteers I will not soon forget. Once again I have seen the proof that the world of the interwebs is a powerful world indeed, and that it can do the most beautiful things, and knit the most awesome communities out of yarn from many different types of stories.

#vidcon europe #vidconeurope #hank green #hannah witton #emma blackery #nerdfighter #effyeahnerdfighters #dftba #jon cozart #dodie #rai amsterdam #seriouslypeopleIlovedthisweekend

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whatdoyouthinkmyjobis · 8 years ago

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Hunters on the Hellmouth

masterlist

first chapter

previous chapter

AN: This chapter was inspired by BTVS 7.09 “Never Leave Me.”

Warnings: threats of rape, implied torture

Chapter 25: House Full of Hostages

The sun was barely up, but the Scoobies were already nervously waiting in the living room while Buffy and Dean were busy with the vampire upstairs. "I'm not sure I've heard a worse idea," said Willow, "and that includes the time Xander covered a pepperoni pizza with M&Ms."

"I knew The Supremer would have its moment in the sun,” Xander replied.

“Spike killed a bunch of people, so Buffy and Dean brought him back to the house?” Dawn asked in disbelief.

“Willow’s back in the house,” said Anya.

“That’s different,” snapped Dawn. “Not like you can judge.”

“I’m just saying we’ve seen this from Buffy before,” Anya continued. “She’s not always with the group think of who to kill and who to not-kill. Frankly, I’m surprised Dean is going along with this lunacy. I thought he’d be more black and white and stabby about this. Plus, bonus he-man points for killing Buffy’s ex.”

“If Dean thought the best option was staking Spike, he would have done it,” said Sam, “but he thinks Spike’s more valuable alive at the moment.”

“It’s not just Spike.” Willow paced as she calculated the possible outcomes. “They think he’s being controlled by something. Okay, what if it pushes his big red murder buttons while he’s here? Or worse! What if it comes for him? I mean, it’s followed him from the school basement, to town, and to that old woman’s house. Who’s to say it won’t come here?”

“It already did,” Dawn said grimly.

“For being the head of the Kill The Bleached Bastard Club, you’ve been very quiet, Xander.”

Xander stood up and headed for the kitchen. “Anyone want some cereal? I hear it’s in peak season.”

Spike’s head pounded, a feat since he didn’t have any blood to pound. Several parts of his body ached and tingled the way it did when it was trying to heal, the way it did when he’d been in a fight.

He opened his eyes, but his vision was blurred, no doubt from the blow to his head. From the smell, he could tell he was in Buffy’s house. It was a concentrated scent. The vanilla extra sweet, the lilac fresh, the sex overpowering. Last time he’d smelled this was in his lower, more perverse moments when he’d sneaked into Buffy’s bedroom to rifle through her underwear drawer and steal souvenirs.

Something was holding down his arms, his legs, his body. He was tied to a chair, but why? “Buffy?”

“Sorry, buddy boy, it’s just me,” said an unfriendly, rumbling voice.

“‘Buddy boy?’ Are we besties now, Dean?”

The prior night came back to him in flashes. A room full of vampires. Drusilla. He’d begged to be staked, but instead, he was in Buffy’s home. She didn’t know the danger her mercy put everyone in.

“Why ‘aven’t you killed me?” Spike asked again, his vision coming into focus. “Know you’re aching to.”

Sitting on the end of the bed, Dean set his elbows on his knees and leaned in as if about to share a secret. “Because of Buffy.”

Momentarily delighted, Spike ran his tongue over his lip, licking the stale blood. “Got you on a short leash, does she?”

Dean looked at his hands and rubbed them together like he was trying to brush off dirt. “I hated you the moment I laid eyes on you. Hated the way you talk, the way you move. Hated the hungry way you look at her. And then I found out you were a goddamn vampire.”

“Stop. You’ll make a monster blush.”

Dean rose from the bed, scratching his neck, and wandered over to a collection of photos on Buffy’s bulletin board. He had probably seen the pictures a hundred times as he passed in an out of her bedroom, but he inspected them silently as if they were brand new.

“You know what I like about Buffy?” Dean asked.

Spike rolled his eyes. “Do tell the inner workings of your torrid love affair.”

“She has so much life in her.”

Spike snorted. Buffy was a nightmare. A killing machine. A creature of the night deadlier than any he’d ever known. Life wasn’t her gift.

Undeterred, Dean continued, wistfulness in his voice. “She wants to grab all the life she can. Most hunters I know are dead men walking, withdrawn alcoholics just waiting for the inevitable. But Buffy, she has hopes and dreams and friends, the sort of friends who would put themselves in danger for her. Good friends.

“And for some crazy ass reason, she considers you one of those friends.”

This was not what Spike expected to hear when tied to a chair. “She, she said that? Those words?”

“She keeps saying, ‘Spike has a soul now,’ as if that can erase your past. But I was reading the other week about how vampires are empty husks led around by their demons. And reading your history, William the Bloody. Maybe that was you. Somehow I can’t imagine a blood-thirsty demon wanting to shack up with a soul.”

His piercing gaze on Spike, Dean said, “I know the look on a man’s face when he’s been forced to do something terrible.”

“You ever ‘ave a demon in you?” Spike asked.

Dean shook his head but said nothing.

“It’s like those cartoons with an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other, only the devil is alone and steering,” Spike said with a sneer. “I learned ‘ow to wrestle control back from this piss poor roommate. Thought getting my soul back would put me firmly in the driver seat, but I still ‘ear it growling up a storm, telling me what to do.”

“What’s it telling you now?” Dean asked.

Spike flexed his arms, but the rope held tight. They weren’t taking chances. “It wants me to rip your ‘andsome face off, cut you to bits. It doesn’t like you at all.”

Dean snorted as if Spike had told a pathetic joke.

But it wasn’t a joke. This wasn’t the time for posturing, for cock fights. He needed to understand the threat that sat before him. “It doesn’t want to kill ‘er. It wants to rape 'er, destroy ‘er. I will suck Buffy dry while I fuck ‘er, when she comes back, she’ll be all mine. Maybe I won’t kill you, just snap your neck and leave you paralyzed, keep you around as a blood donor, ‘ang you up in the bedroom so you can watch us ‘aving a good shag. Real question is, do I kill the little bit, take ‘er as she is, or let ‘er ripen a few more years?”

“You ain’t gonna do any of that.” Darkness took over Dean’s face.

“You know what I’m capable of.” Spike wasn’t sure himself anymore; the demon’s voice was worse than he remembered.

“I know what I’m capable of. If you’ve turned evil sock puppet, I’ll do what she can’t.”

Buffy wouldn’t be able to kill Spike and he knew it. She’d lost all perspective dropping him, a live grenade, in with her friends. He needed to make sure Dean would do the right thing despite what she wanted. ”Raping Buffy’s just unfinished business. She tell you about that? Tried to fuck her a few months ago, but didn’t finish the job. And she still likes ‘aving me around.”

Dean smirked before twisting back and socking Spike in the jaw, knocking his chair over and loosening a few teeth.

Buffy was searching for another phone number, hoping to find Giles, when she heard banging up in her bedroom. “What happened?” she asked Dean as he came down the stairs.

“Spike’s chair fell over.”

“Really?” She grabbed Dean’s right hand and rubbed her thumb over his red knuckles. “Put some ice on that. How’s the rest of you?”

He pointed to the bandage on his neck. “Just a new scar for the collection.”

“And the other thing?”

Wincing, Dean adjusted himself. “Not gonna feel like screwing tonight, if that’s what you want to know.”

“That was sort of off the table anyway seeing as there’s a vampire in our bedroom.”

Poking at the mix of business cards and paper scraps on the counter, Buffy tried to remember which numbers she’d called. Giles wasn’t answering his cell or his landline. The coven that helped Willow heal said they hadn’t heard from him in months. She picked up a heavy card on linen stock and tapped it on the counter. It was a simple design, just a phone number and the name Quentin Travers embossed in gold letters.

“I’m going to call the Watcher’s Council,” she said to Dean, who was watching her as he iced his hand.

“You need a gun that big for Spike?”

“I’m sure they’re chomping at the bit to help a vampire. No, Dean, this is bigger than Spike. It’s bigger than us. Whatever is controlling him, I’m sure it’s not planning to gift the world with pocket pandas and chocolate. Then there’s my blood-soaked visions.”

She crossed the kitchen and buried her face in his plaid shirt. Still smelling of basement dirt, he felt warm and solid in her arms. Present. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Dean, but I feel alone in this. Yes, you’re here. We have Sam and Willow, but we can only hit so much if we don’t know where to strike. Without Giles, I -- I feel lost.”

Tucking a lock of loose hair behind her ear, Dean said, “I know the feeling. So what do I need to know ‘bout these Watcher guys?”

“I’m hoping they’ll help me find Giles. I’m afraid they’re going to send someone with a disapproving scowly face and stuck up accent. Someone I’m going to have to argue with. Someone who’s going to get all nosy about you and where you’re from.”

“What happens if they find out?”

“Don’t know.” Buffy stood up and smoothed his shirt. “If they try anything, I’ll put on my protective girlfriend pants and rescue you.”

“My hero,” he said, leaning down to kiss her.

“There’s a crazed vampire upstairs, and you’re making out?” said Sam, who’d stolen into the kitchen.

Buffy estimated she’d had three seconds not thinking about the crisis they were in, three seconds away from the brink of tears, but before she could respond, Dean was embracing her. “Sammy, you’re interrupting a very important strategy meeting.”

“I can see that,” he replied, eyebrows up and dimples of disapproval on display. “You’ve got a room full of nervous people who want in on the plan.”

“Spike’s been in contact with the mysterious It more than any of us. We need to find out what It’s told him, how It’s communicating with him, and how It’s making him kill,” said Buffy.

“Do you actually see him sharing any of that info?” Dean asked.

“Maybe. We’ll start with kid gloves. He was pretty messed up at that house.”

“Let me know when you want me to step in for the messy stuff,” said Dean. “Maybe we should take him somewhere else so Dawn doesn’t hear?”

How long had he been alone with Spike? It couldn’t have taken her more than half an hour to shower and change, but he was already beating on the vampire. Once, she’d seen Dean cry, near hysterics triggered by memories of Sam’s death, of consequential decades spent in Hell torturing and being tortured. Knowing what he’d been through, how could she ask him to step into that role again? “I don’t want you to step in for the messy stuff.”

“You think it won’t go that far?”

“I’m not saying I don’t need you. There’s plenty to do. I’m saying the torture tools can stay in the trunk.”

“How can I help?”

Fucking grocery getter for a monster, Dean grumbled to himself. He appreciated that Buffy didn’t want him involved in interrogating Spike; he didn’t want her to see him like that, to know what he was capable of. Still, he’d rather be back at the house keeping an eye on things than out buying pig’s blood for his girlfriend to feed the vampire. Willow, nervously wringing her hands in the passenger seat, knew all the places in town they could hit for this unpalatable snack run.

“Can you turn that off?” she asked.

Dean bit his tongue and ejected the cassette. “Not a Metallica fan?”

“I like rock and alternative stuff, but that was making me so nervous, my skin was all prickly.”

“Relaxes me,” Dean said.

“You’re joking, right?”

“It’s easy to get lost in. Their early stuff has these beautiful, complicated melodies and long ass guitar solos you just don't hear anymore, which is one of modern rock’s biggest tragedies. Tell ya what, I got a copy of this on Sam’s computer from a concert they did with the San Francisco orchestra, and I bet you’ll like it backed by violins and stuff.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then Buffy won’t be the only person in the house with shit taste in music.”

Willow snapped to look at something out the window and yelled, “Stop the car! Stop the car!”

Dean slammed on the brakes, and she bolted down the sidewalk after a short blond boy in a large black coat. Quickly finding a place to park, Dean chased after her and found her scuffling in an alley.

She had the boy pinned against the wall and was practically spitting in his face. “You don't know the first thing about pain, but I'm willing to give a lesson.”

“Help me! Please, save me! She’s trying to kill me!” shouted the kid when he spotted Dean.

“Hey, I was speechifying!” whined Willow.

“Ginger, you wanna fill me in?” Dean asked. He’d never seen her violent and pushy, but it was hard to believe this trembling kid with a puddle of piss forming at his feet could possibly be any threat.

“Remember Warren?” Her voice was dark, dangerous.

“Killed Tara. Suffered the consequences. Got a pretty strong mental picture.”

“Andrew here was one of his lackeys.”

“I didn’t kill Tara!” Andrew protested, trembling. “I had nothing to do with that. Buffy beat us so bad, I was packing up to leave town.”

“Shut up, you worm. Dean, check his bag.”

Near the mouth of the alley was a brown paper sack with a blossoming bloodstain. “Please, don’t be a cat. Please, don’t be a cat,” Dean muttered. “Looks like someone else went to the butcher. We got some fresh meat and a whole lotta blood. One of ‘em popped open, but he had eight quarts.”

“Pull the car around. Do you think he’ll fit in the trunk?”

Dean huffed. “I can fit three of him in the trunk.”

Xander and Anya searched Andrew’s coat while the Winchesters tied him to a chair in Dawn’s room, a pile of stuffed animals transfixed on the scene.

“I won’t tell you anything,” their new captive squeaked, “no matter how roughly you manhandle my body. Seriously, you should maybe touch my body some more.”

Sam rolled his eyes and left.

“You don’t want me handling you, kid. I’d take your fingernails first, then start asking questions,” Dean said before following his brother out the door.

Standing in the hallway, they could hear Xander and Anya start their good cop, bad cop routine. “We’re gonna make you squeal, little piggie!”

“Today has only increased in crazy,” Sam sighed.

“Double the hostages, double the fun?”

Sam shook his head. “Where are all the pieces?”

“Whatever the big boss is has visited Dawn, Willow and Fangs McGee, who’s been killing people on request, but cuz a that chip, he ain’t supposed to be able to do that. The little one --” there was a smack and thump behind Dawn’s bedroom door, “fancies himself some sorta criminal mastermind. Willow said he can conjure up some pretty sick spells, so she’s thinkin’ he’s connected to whatever hell else is going on.”

“And he was one of the people who killed Tara?”

“No, he was in on the world conquering part of it, but was seriously afraid of Buffy beating the shit outta him. You shoulda seen him in the alley with Willow. Pissed himself.”

“Like all criminal masterminds,” Sam said dryly.

“She did skin his buddy.”

Xander and Anya came out of Dawn’s room looking stern before closing the door and dissolving into a giggle fit. “Did you see that?! I made him cry!”

“You’re a good bad cop,” Xander beamed.

“He was annoying me, and I wanted to slap him, so I went ahead and slapped him!”

“Oh, nice line there about the fingernails, Dean. You really helped get him ready to spill. ‘Course he jumps every time Willow’s mentioned too. Where is Will?”

“She’s downstairs folding laundry with Dawn,” Sam replied.

“Sinister, thy name is Willow. Okay, An, you go relax for a bit, and I’ll go pretend to be the weasel’s friend.”

“Feel free to turn up my demon reputation but gloss over how I can’t bring any of that pain anymore.”

“Never underestimate your ability to cause people pain,” said Xander before ducking back into the bedroom.

Anya smiled a love-swoony smile. “Xander’s so sweet. He still believes in me.” Pleased with her accomplishments, she practically skipped down the stairs.

Over an hour later, Buffy, looking exhausted and downcast, found Dean in the kitchen making a late grilled cheese lunch with Dawn. She fell into Dean’s arms, groaning as he rubbed her back. “Not going so hot, baby?”

“The whole blood-eating thing is super gross,” she said into his chest. “It has to digest or absorb or whatever happens inside a vampire. I skipped the biology lesson. He’s too exhausted to explain anything.”

“I’m sure that’s it,” Dawn grumbled.

“What do you mean?”

“He always wants to spend time with you, right? Now he’s got you alone in your bedroom feeding him. Spike’s gotta be thinking that’s pretty hot.”

“Ew. This just got worse.”

Dean held her face in his hands and smiled at her. He hated seeing her stressed like this, hated her feeling backed against a wall, hated her feeling so lost. “We got a pile of sandwiches with your name on them.”

“Not true,” said Dawn, grabbing two. “The ones with pickles are mine.”

“You need to eat and sleep,” Dean said gently. “Go curl up on the couch an’ take a nap. You’ve been up all night, barely slept the night before. No use grinding yourself down. I’ll make sure he stays tied up.”

Grabbing a non-pickled sandwich, Buffy said through bites, “Sam’s sort of taking up the entire couch, and last time you were alone with Spike, you punched him.”

“He deserved it.”

“No doubt, but I don’t want to lose you. I’ll sleep eventually.”

Sleepy eyed, Sam stumbled in. “I’m gonna head out for a few hours. Shower. Change.”

“Give me a minute,” Dean said before his brother disappeared. “What do you need me to do, Girly?”

Willow and Buffy sat on Willow’s bed, arms around their knees, listening to Andrew’s whimpering and Spike’s muttering.

“I could organize the basement,” Willow said, her voice hollow, her eyes far away. “Or I could build some sort of padded panic room for the panicking.”

Buffy grabbed her friend’s hand and squeezed. “Dean said you were a badass when you spotted Andrew.”

Pale, eyes wide, Willow nodded. “I-I figured he couldn’t be good news, but…” She leaned over and curled into a ball, her head on Buffy’s lap.

“Where does having him in the house fall on the weirdness scale?” Buffy asked, combing Willow’s hair with her fingers.

“You know that nightmare where you walk into class and there’s a test you forgot to study for?”

“Nightmare. Yeah. Sure, Will,” said Buffy dryly.

“It’s pass/fail, and I don’t remember any of the material.”

But it went beyond Andrew. Her mind buzzed with the past and a thousand what ifs. But something else was crowding out the flashbacks of Tara’s death.

Dread grew in Willow’s heart. Something was very wrong with Spike, she could feel it wafting off him, a similar disharmonious buzz as when she tried to get a read on the Winchesters. She’d noticed it a bit when she saw the demon in him, but brushed it off as a side effect of the spell. Now it was a war drum charge pounding on the other side of the wall.

Anya, working out some post-demon stress, had climbed deep into her bad cop role. So deep, Xander was having a hard time pulling her off Andrew, crying in the fetal position on the floor. “Anya, honey, that’s enough!”

“Isn’t this why you untied him, so the cowering would be more satisfying?”

“I’ll tell you anything, just keep the psycho chick away from me!”

“Let’s start with why you came back to Sunnydale.”

The bedroom was starting to reek of blood. Spike preferred the Buffy smell, but three quarts in, he was perking up, remembering.

“I didn’t know the bleedin’ chip ‘ad stopped working.”

“Would it have made a difference?”

“Don’t know. I don’t remember killing anyone. I mean, I know I did it, not denying that, but I don’t remember it. You know like ‘ow when you find a ticket stub in your pocket, and that proof in your ‘and is the only memory you have of a shoddy movie? It’s like that. I don’t know what I was thinking, feeling, doing, just that I turned and buried them.”

“Has that been happening a lot? The memory loss?”

Arms crossed and scowling, Dean stepped forward. “We have a bigger problem. Andrew is here. You know how he ties in.”

“Yeah, what of it?”

“Do you remember what happened in the basement last night?” Buffy asked. “You said Drusilla was there. You said she visited you in the school basement every day. What did she tell you, Spike?”

“That’s right. Dru was always there for me. Supporting me. Singing to me. She may ‘ave been mad, but that woman knows for love and loyalty, unlike some. Got myself resouled and was left to talk to hallucinations. ‘Ow’s that for a hello?”

Buffy rose from the edge of the bed and paced the room. “Spike, this isn’t about us.”

“It really isn’t,” Dean said. “This is about the sorry pickle you’ve got yourself in. Tied up. Confused. Still hungry. And right through that wall, answers. It’s you or him.”

“I know what you’re tryin, Dean, but I’m not falling for it.”

Buffy stiffened and looked around the room. “Spike, do you see Dean? Dean’s not here.”

Dean plunged his hand into Spike’s chest; sizzling, sharp, it felt like a lightning bolt to the heart.

Spike’s fangs descended. With a swift jerk, he broke the arms off the chair and swung at Buffy, scratching her face with the broken wood. He kicked her down and charged at the wall. Breaking through to Dawn’s room, Spike grabbed Andrew by the throat and bit him. Hands tugged at him, swatted him, but he clamped down harder. Andrew had to be stopped. A strong pair of small hands grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him into the door frame.

Spike shook his head, confused as to why he was suddenly on the floor, untied, and with a crowd gathered around a small blonde boy. Buffy stomped toward Spike, and kicked him in the face.

The tiredness made Buffy’s fingers stiff as she checked the lock on Spike’s manacles once again.

“Sure this will ‘old me? I don’t want to ‘urt anyone.”

Without answering, Buffy headed upstairs to her friends. She was tired of talking, of trying to figure out what was happening, of what she was even fighting. She wanted a giant plate of sweet and sour chicken and the freedom to sleep for three days.

Dawn was curled under Willow’s arm on the couch. Sitting on the coffee table in front of them, Buffy said, “I’ll call Dean. You can stay at his place until we get this sorted.”

“You shouldn’t have told him to leave, or, you know, invited a killer into the house,” Dawn grumbled.

“Thank you for the hindsight alert, but who else was going to patrol?”

Xander and Anya came downstairs. “Good news, Buff, is that Spike didn’t rip any electrical when he Hulked the wall. Bad news is there’s zero privacy for you and Dawn. The hardware store is closed, but if the Winchesters lend a hand, we can get it like new tomorrow.”

“Thank you. Anya?”

Anya, twisting one foot like a little girl, was staring wistfully at Xander.

“Earth to Anya?”

“Yes?”

“How’s Andrew?” Buffy asked.

“Sorry, with the interrogation, the fighting, and the manly construction talk, I started to feel a little aroused, which obviously pushed Andrew from my mind. Oh, well, the little twerp will live. I patched up his neck and tied him up again.”

“Other than Anya’s attraction to drywall, did we learn anything for all of this mess?” asked Willow.

“We did get our stoolie to sing,” said Anya, with a proud smile. “Andrew came back because he was having visions of a seal that he needed to give blood to for vague evil purposes. He was about to clarify, when KA-BAM! That’s the sound Spike made with the wall.”

“Did Spike tell you anything, Buffy?”

“What happened to Willow and Dawn has pretty much been an everyday occurrence with Spike, but he thought the ghosts were part of the soul guilt. He said he sees me and Drusilla the most. I yell at him, and Drusilla encourages him.”

“Good cop, bad cop!” Anya interjected.

“Maybe. He was talking to invisible Drusilla at the vamp house. Screaming at her. Upstairs, he was talking to Dean--”

“Oh God!” Dawn gasped. “So this baddie can look like anyone? Not just the dead? How do we know who’s real?”

Buffy sighed and unloaded the Winchesters’ secret. “Dean has died before. So’s Sam.”

Mouths agape, the Scoobies stared at Buffy. “Well, that explains your relationship a bit,” said Willow.

“Were you just not going to tell us this?” Xander asked. “Seems kind of important with a costume-loving evil on the loose.”

“A lot has happened in the last couple days, okay? It slipped my mind. Anyway, Spike thought he was talking to Dean, then he just...changed. He wasn’t even like the Spike who came to kill me in high school. He was different.”

“Perhaps we have a Manchurian Candidate situation,” said Xander, who was met with silent stares. “C’mon! It’s a classic! Okay, so Angela Lansbury has brainwashed her son for the Communist party. Every time she wants him to kill someone, she tells him to play solitaire, and gives him the mission when a certain card triggers his sleeper agent side. Only in our case, Spike is the son, the trigger is some unknown message from the undead person, and mystery baddie is evil Jessica Fletcher.”

“So what’s the mission?” asked Willow.

“When Spike broke free, he knocked me down, then went straight for Andrew, like he had a purpose. Anya, you said he was about to tell you what the seal is for. That has to be connected.”

“What now, Buff? Should we interrogate Andrew some more?”

“Stake Spike?”

“No.” Buffy stood up and stretched. “It’s past eight. Dinner, then plan. I’ll call Dean, and if someone could pick up a giant order of Chinese food, you will officially be my favorite.”

Leaving the phone to the important task of food fetching, she trudged up the stairs to the cellphone in her wrecked bedroom. She wanted a little privacy anyway. Her friends all expected her have answers, plans, foresight. With Dean, she could cry, maybe even gripe a little, and he respected her, still followed her lead even if it was something as distasteful as getting blood for Spike.

She’d just reached the top of the stairs when the lights went out and robed figures crashed through the windows and doors. Two bolted toward her, staves held high. She snatched one staff and butted the owner down the stairs, but the other sneaked past her. She chased him to Dawn’s room. With two daggers drawn, he stood over a whimpering Andrew. Grabbing one wrist, she spun the intruder around and headbutted him before yanking the blades from his hands. As she stabbed him in the chest, she swung back and gutted the second assassin who’d appeared behind her.

Checking that the upstairs was secure, she bolted downstairs calling for her sister. “She’s okay,” said Xander, standing over a bleeding body, Dawn shaking on the floor behind him.

Anya was by the broken back door, shaking awake Willow who was bleeding from a head wound.

“Looks like the house got the worst of it.”

Crouching over the assassin Xander had killed, Buffy felt a nauseating recognition. The robe. The runes branded over the eyes. “I know these guys. I’ve been dreaming about them for months. They’re the assassins in my visions. They -- they went straight for Andrew.”

“That makes sense,” said Anya. “If they’re connected to what was talking to Spike earlier, it knew who was here and where. Your house was a sieve even without the windows broken.”

“Spike,” Buffy whispered. “Has anyone checked on Spike?” She ran to the basement, practically tripping on the stairs. Against the wall hung an empty pair of manacles.

Spike’s head was throbbing again, and he could feel someone yanking on his arms as they tied him up. “You know, I’m getting right sick of being battered about.”

He opened his eyes to see the smirking face of Buffy lit by torchlight as robed figures with mutilated faces dug up a seal. “I told you there would be consequences. Andrew is possibly the most pathetic human I’ve ever met, yet you failed to kill him.” Two of her minions approached Spike with knives and began carving into his chest and stomach. He bit his tongue to deny her satisfaction. “Since he failed to bring me a blood sacrifice, you’ll have to do.”

Whatever he was tied to was hoisted up so he was parallel to the goat-faced seal below, his blood filling the grooves. “Buffy will stop you,” he hissed.

“Yes, Buffy. You didn’t kill her like I asked. You didn’t kill Dean either. Now they’re on to me. I was tired of hiding anyway, and I have some friends who want to play. Spike, do you want to meet a real vampire?”

The goat face disappeared under the pool of blood. The arms of the pentagram around it turned up and twisted to create a staircase. A gnarled grey hand struck the dirt, and a bony creature with a full set of spiny teeth rose from the ground and roared.

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