#helen distortion x reader

[peonysgreenhouse]

-`♡´- mine all mine.

summary: kissing blurbs (gn!reader x daisy tonner, helen distortion, tim stoker, & jonathan sims)

tags: kisses, suggestive content & hunt-typical violence for daisy's, helen is manipulative, cleaning tim's worm holes (lol), jon finally gets a little bit of sleep.

-`♡´- daisy tonner

Daisy smells the blood that thrums just underneath your neck and hungers. Her teeth graze over the soft skin over your neck; she can feel your carotid pulse in response to her touches. So rhythmic, so alive, and she hungers so. It would only be a few centimeters beneath your skin, it would be so easy to bite down and taste.

And how delicious a meal you would be.

Daisy’s tongue darts out and drags just underneath your jaw. You tug gently at her hair, and her hands grip tighter at your sides. No, no, she would be gentle with you. She would try, at least, she thinks, nipping at the side of your neck as if to show you she could be restrained.

Bite inhibition was something she had never properly learned, but for you, she would try.

When you pull Daisy up for a proper kiss, she hopes you don’t taste the blood on her lips, on her teeth, on her tongue. She fears it lingers no matter how many times she brushes them clean. You bite her bottom lip, pulling the chapped skin between your teeth, and Daisy can’t help but press herself against you; a different form of hunger settling low in her gut. She lifts you onto the desk and thinks that this is a type of hunger she doesn’t mind sating. 

-`♡´- helen distortion

You had been wandering the corridors for hours… Or had it been days? Months perhaps? It’s easy to lose count when you’ve nothing to go off of. No phone to check the time, nor window to the outside world – if there even was one here – to see the setting sun or rising moon. Just an endless stretch of elastic corridors and doors that were locked tight.

Then, a figure. Tall and slender, and you can't help but stumble forward towards it. It had been so long since you saw anything but empty hallways, you nearly sob in relief.

As you get closer you realize that she looks… familiar. Like someone you once knew. Maybe you had once gone for coffee together? No, that wasn’t right. Your mind must be playing tricks on you. Your heart hammers within your chest as she reaches out to you. 

“Poor thing…” She coos, bending at an unnatural angle to look down at you. “You seem lost, my darling. Do you need help finding your way?”

Oh, she was friendly. She wants to help. The Distortion smiles at you, with much too many sharp teeth, but you find she looks… kind. You nod, desperate, and approach her, gripping onto her sleeve.

“Yes.” You breathe out, frantic. “Yes, please. I’ve been lost here for… for a long time. Do you know the way out?”

Helen pulls you into her arms, her voice comforting in your ear as she reassures you everything would be okay. Those long, sharp fingers of hers gentle as she strokes your hair. It feels nice, so nice you can’t help but nuzzle closer into the Distortion that holds you tight, almost like a lover. 

Yes, yes, you had known her before. Helen, that’s right. You had been on a few dates before she had ghosted you. Why was she here now? She shouldn’t be here, you shouldn’t be here. Perhaps you could escape together!

“Helen.” You say, the name sounding right on your tongue. “I knew you before… we…”

Helen looks a little taken aback that you remembered. Still, she smiles that same, wide smile. “You remember me, darling? How… cute.” Her dark pupils seem to swirl around and around inside her eyes, winding like the corridors themselves, and you can’t help but find comfort in that pattern. “Let's get you to the exit, you look like you need a rest, hm?"

She takes your hand in hers, her hand dwarfing your own in size, and leads you to an unassuming door. You're sure you tried that one before; you can even see the chips in the paint from where you had tried to pull off the handle. If Helen notices, she doesn't say anything.

"Here we are, darling." She says, in that same chipper tone. You can't help but feel a rush of relief as she pulls open the door. Through the frame you can see your room, as neat and tidy as you left it. You could almost cry.

"Thank you." You say, your voice choked up with relief. "Thank you." You wrap your arm around her neck and stand on your tiptoes to kiss her cheek. Her skin is cold under your lips.

"No need to thank me. I'm just glad you're all safe now." She says, booping your nose with a finger. You can't help the way your heart races as she ushers you through the door. “I’ll be seeing you soon, my darling.” She gives you a once-over, and then closes the door behind her. It disappears into the darkness of your room.

As she closes the door, you can’t still your racing heart. You feel an overwhelming sense of dizziness, but all you can think about is that you need to see her again.

-`♡´- timothy stoker

“So… How do my worm holes look, doc?” 

You pull one of his bandages off, taking a peek at the wound just under his jaw. “Stop squirming.” You say, firmly, holding his jaw in place as he tries to move away from your prodding around the wound. It looks less angry than it had a few days ago, but it was still a bit red. You wrinkle your nose. “Does it hurt?”

Tim lets out a playful scoff. “Oh yeah, I feel just great. Nothing quite like being riddled with holes.” 

“Hm, deflecting again.” You say, brushing your thumb over his pulse point, just below the wound. Tim hums in response. “Adding that to your, uh, file.” 

“Oh, you’re keeping a file on me now?” He says, his eyes flicking down to your hand as you smear ointment onto your finger. Tim sucks in a breath, bouncing his leg anxiously as he awaits your touch.

“Yeah, it’s almost big enough to knock you over the head with when you’re being stubborn. Like now.” You say, gently grabbing his wrist and pulling him forward. “Sit still.”

Tim dramatically throws up his hands, but he does as you say. You give the wound another once over, just to make sure it looked like it was healing, before smearing the antibiotic onto it. Tim tenses, his eyes closing as if in pain. You pull your hand back, wiping the excess ointment onto the closest towel.

“All done with this one. Just let me put a clean bandage on.”

“...You never did answer, you know.” He says, watching as you dump the box of bandages onto the table. It would probably take all of them, knowing how many open wounds were left on his skin in the aftermath of the attack. You fear you'll never rid yourself of the image of the worms wriggling underneath his skin; you were thankful he was high off his ass for the worst of it. “How do they look?”

“You’re still handsome, if that’s what you’re worried about.” You lean forward as if to prove a point and kiss the fresh bandage lightly, making an exaggerated ‘MWAH’ sound. Tim gives you the goofiest smile. 

“Hm… I might need a few more of those before I really believe it. I’m so insecure and all that.” Tim says, tilting his head up so you can reach the next spot.

"Sit still for me and I'll give you all the kisses you want, Stoker."

-`♡´- jonathan sims

You know better than to wake the Archivist.

It’s not often that Jon’s mind quiets enough for him to sleep, and even now as you watch him, you can tell he’s watching back. It’s eerie, the way you can see his eyes shift behind closed eyelids. You think it would be less creepy if he slept with his eyes open.

Still, you wish he would sleep in a more comfortable position. Slumped over his desk, head laid in the bend of his elbow, it’s a recipe for Jon complaining about his back when he wakes up. You reach over and pull his glasses off, folding them and setting them on top of one of the stacks of old statements on his desk. 

He looks so much older without his glasses on; the dark circles under his eyes and worry lines much more prominent. You almost want to reach over and smooth them out, but you resist, not wanting to wake him by accident. Still, you can’t help but brush back his bangs from his forehead and place a quick kiss to the now exposed skin. Jon stirs, mumbling something under his breath, but does not wake.

While he’s asleep, you take the time to clean his office a bit: putting books back on their correct shelves, taking half-empty tea cups to the break room’s sink, organizing the miscellaneous statements he has messily scattered around the room. It’s almost relaxing, working quietly while he sleeps. You feel like you can catch your breath for the first time in a long while. 

Before you leave, you take your jacket, warm from your body heat, off and place it onto Jon’s shoulders. You lean down and press one more kiss to his forehead, and swear you can see the corners of his lips twitch up.

[maximwtf]

“For the sake of survival.”

art by: Kyokosayuki (Tumblr)

Helen Distortion x Reader

words: 1600

google docs pages: 3,5

Warnings: panic attackey themes, hurt/comfort

opening: You’re a new distortion who just took their first human. With the distress that came with it, you find your way to Helen for assistance. 

AN// Did I spend any time checking if the plot goes along with how the spiral avatars work? No. Am I still going to do this because I like the idea and I need the edgy content in my life? Yes. Pretend like this makes sense. Any pronouns for reader!

           “For the sake of survival.”

You wanted to say that it hadn’t been you, and it was The Spiral that had done it. But somewhere deep down you knew it was all your doing, you had chosen to do it. To feed on the human you had taken. Your thoughts kept repeating, trying their best to calm your mind. Animals did the same in nature, didn’t they? They did anything they could to survive when it came to feeding. So why should you feel awful about how oddly nice it was to take that randomly chosen specimen through your doors? No, none of that was truly helping, it made your thoughts spiral even more. 

But it had been oddly nice, hadn’t it? You didn’t feel weak or ‘hungry’ anymore. So you must have done the right thing, even if it had cost the life of one human. But there was still that small part of you, of who you used to be that recoiled at these thoughts and actions, making you feel like you could tear into two. Why were you comparing yourself to wild animals, you were a human! Or- had been at the very least. But that didn’t change anything, no matter what you were now. That was still completely wrong, all of it. It was wrong of you to feel good about doing what you had. 

The state of your mind made the corridors change faster, the colours of the different doors switching sharply along with the paintings, images and mirrors. You wanted to get out of there, somewhere else. As much as the endless corridors were feeding you, that small part deep down was still disgusted and ashamed. 

So you opened a door for yourself, not taking longer than a second to step out and slam the faint yellow door shut. You didn’t have to stand in the quiet street for long, to in some way sense where you were headed. Or at least where you thought you should go. You didn’t know many people or avatars, but there was someone who you half trusted enough. Perhaps she’d take you seriously, this time… You walked for a bit, not long. Something in you said that you didn’t have to, and that silent voice was correct. A yellow door met you near a bridge, making an extended creak as it opened on its own, inviting you in without any words being said. You noticed a slight panic that had been stirring within you, trying to shrug it off for now. A wave of hesitation flushed over you, but you knew what had to be done. With a quick step you passed through the threshold of the door, it closing slowly on its own after. 

“Oh, darlin’! What a pleasure to see a familiar face!” A rather cheerful voice met you, but the person behind it was nowhere to be seen. Your eyes stared at the confusing corridor in front of you, not afraid of it. You’d know where to go if you had to. “Hi.” You dared to reply, not trusting your voice enough to say more. One of the doors opened and after some time someone stepped out with a wide smile that soon turned into something that you decided was a frown. “Is everything okay, dear?” Her high pitched voice asked as she made her way over to your shaken form. You couldn’t find genuine concern in her voice even if you tried, but that’s how she was. Not that it mattered if she cared, you just wanted to talk to someone. 

“No, not quite.” You mumbled out, words shaken as you had expected them to be earlier. “Oh, twisted much?” She asked, a grin-like smile forming on her face. It made you roll your eyes, but you doubted she saw it since your gaze was stuck on the carpet. “You could say so.” Your voice was failing you, it wavering and quiet. “Hm. Do tell me about it, love.” She said, voice suddenly a lot more kinder, as if she had taken a full turn on how she wanted to approach you. She placed her palm to your lower back, guiding you further in the corridors, as if inviting you to walk with her. And you went along, feeling more awful by the moment. 

Your chest felt tight, tighter than before. Breathing uneven, almost like you’d been crying earlier but there were no tears, just the sobs that forced you to breathe in that all too familiar uncomfortable way. It made you grit your teeth as you tried to swallow down the awful feeling that’d been creeping up. The feeling of Helen’s hand at the small of your back helped, just a little. And the feeling of walking, knowing you had to focus on that in the moment. Helen’s voice brought you out of your thoughts. “So?” She asked again with a hum, but it sounded cold. “I- I took someone.” You opened your eyes a little wider, trying to take a deep breath but that just made you look like you’d been drowning earlier. You heard Helen’s mouth open, as she was going to obviously have to ask a follow up on that. You managed to speak up first. “To feed The Spiral. I took someone.” Your body trembled at the thought, having to stop walking which seemed to displease Helen, but she didn’t say anything of it. “Okay?” Helen’s voice had a hint of confusion in it, but as if she was trying to hide some amusement behind it. “Y-you don’t understand! I didn’t want to do that! It felt wrong!” You quickly replied, distress clear on your face as you looked at the slightly taller woman next to you “I didn’t like it..” Your, now a lot more broken voice added, gaze moving to the floor slowly. Helen falls silent for quite some time, recognizing the words from a long time ago. 

In the silence, the sounds of the doors moving and your uneven breathing sounded insanely loud. You had nothing else to say, and thankfully you didn’t have to come up with anything. The sound of Helen kneeling down ever so slightly, to your level, came from next to you. “I know, dear.” She says, something new in her voice but you couldn’t place a finger on exactly what.

Helen understood what you had meant, and some part of her didn’t want to do the same to you that had been done to her. She didn’t want to dismiss someone experiencing this crisis the same way Jon had done to her, when she had reached out. The wrong feeling she had had must have been the same you felt, and Helen knew all too well how awful it was. 

Your eyes moved quickly up to her’s, brows slightly furrowed. She didn’t seem to need to hear the next question on your mind, answering it before you were even able to open your mouth. “Because I once felt the same way.” She said, tilting your face upwards with one finger, it felt less sharp than you had expected. Her spiralling eyes were somehow calming, or maybe it was the things she was saying. You couldn’t tell anymore. “But you hear me out, mhm?” She continued talking, perhaps sensing that you weren’t feeling up to it as your mind was trying to calm itself. “You have to do what you must, in order to survive.” She got a little closer. “And if that something is what we do, then you just have to give in.” She sighed slowly, you finding yourself following her breathing pattern by instinct. She was about to continue her speech, but you spoke up first. “But it feels wrong…” You said, eyes staring at Helen, as if not believing this was how you had to exist now, but deep down already knowing the truth. “Yes…It does.” Helen stood up properly, her eyes still on your form. “But the good thing is, it gets easier.” The other distortion said, her voice seemingly back to its normal pitch, assuming she had noticed you were doing better. 

You stood silently in front of her, not sure what to say. She might as well have been lying, but what did you care. Even if she was saying the things she knew you wanted to hear, that was better than telling yourself the truth you didn’t want to hear in the first place. Or perhaps, she wasn’t lying. Either way, you acted on that thought. With a quick step forwards you gave her a quick hug, making sure not to stick around for too long. But even with that caution in mind, you seemed to have startled her. Helen’s eyes were a little more wide now, a blank expression on her face. For a brief moment you could have sworn she hadn’t found the gesture pleasant, but the blank expression soon turned into something that resembled a smile. “Thank you.” You said.

A/N// Okay, this shall mark as the last fanfic I’ll be writing before the first 2/5 final exams. See you after :”D!!

[ao3feed-jonmartin]

Not Gonna Let You Die

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/YiIRJNs by JesusTapdancingChrist ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴀ ɢɪʀʟ ᴏʙꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴇʀ ꜰᴀᴠᴏᴜʀɪᴛᴇ ʜᴏʀʀᴏʀ ᴘᴏᴅᴄᴀꜱᴛ ɢᴇᴛꜱ ᴍʏꜱᴛᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ ᴛʀᴀꜱᴘᴏʀᴛᴇᴅ ɪɴᴛᴏ ɪᴛ; ꜱʜᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴅᴏ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴀᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴏꜱᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ꜱʜᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇꜱ. ______________ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀɢɴᴜꜱ ᴀʀᴄʜɪᴠᴇꜱ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ɪꜱᴇᴋᴀɪ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ Words: 749, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M Characters: Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood, Melanie King, Georgie Barker, Basira Hussain, Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Michael | The Distortion (The Magnus Archives), Helen | The Distortion (The Magnus Archives), Michael "Mike" Crew, Gerard Keay, Gertrude Robinson, Elias Bouchard | Jonah Magnus, Annabelle Cane, Jurgen Leitner, Pipe Used to Brutally Murder Jurgen Leitner Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Sasha James/Tim Stoker, Sasha James/Reader, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives) & Reader, Georgie Barker/Melanie King, Basira Hussain & Alice "Daisy" Tonner Additional Tags: Angst with a Happy Ending, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Brutal Pipe Murder of Jurgen Leitner, Gerard Keay Lives, No Sex, Eventual Romance, Reader-Insert, Fluff and Angst, Author Is Sleep Deprived, The Author Regrets Everything, Author Is Not Religious, Help read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/YiIRJNs

[hmm-self-indulgence]

Michael Shelley x Gn!Reader

Read as a statement. Italics are Jon, and regular is You! Gender Neutral, congrats you are married, have graduated uni, and live in England. Statement given around mag 140. I’m going with the descriptions given on Fandom Wiki for Michael, and the classic interpretation of Helen (since she has no canon description).

Warnings! Intense language, traumatic experiences, major character loss, some almost sexual themes but no smut. Pretty much just PG-13 except for language and some monsterfucking elements. READER HAS SEMI BISEXUAL TENDENCIES (you get both distortions for the price of one!) Also, what's a timeline, never heard of her? So just general timeline fucking up for the sake of some fluff and angst. Mentions of religion and praying (kinda worshiping the spiral a la Manuela)! Drug mentions. Also, violence against Elias, but who cares! Some artistic liberties taken when it comes to a lot of things. I’ve never been to the UK so some stuff might be wrong. Technically unintentional spousal abuse, (gaslight gatekeep girlboss) plus technically kidnapping? Plus the reader is a bit mean to Jon. Also my friend proofread this and said it reminded her of twilight a bit so I hate that but I wanna post it anyway. I hate that I took unintentional inspiration from twilight but here we are anyway.

No one has the permission to repost this on any website. Do not use my content or claim it as your own! I do not own these characters, they are made, owned and are the property of Johnathan Sims. I am in no way profiting off of this and this is made with full respect to Rusty Quill.

Quick taglist @decora-peaches , @swordsandfools, sorry gang I'm a fool who needed the confidence to post this and its been quite a bit since I promised to post this.

Helen has decided to try to buy our friendship again, as she has brought me a statement. Where she got it from I have no idea, but I feel the need to record it. Anyway, Statement of (y/n) Shelley, regarding their life and experiences with their husband... Michael. Date written, unknown. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, The Archivist.

Statement begins.

I'd like to first say that I hate your Archive and everything you stand for. You took the man I love from me twice and I despise you all for it, but Helen asked for it and I cannot deny her anything. So here is my statement, and I hope you choke on it.

I met Michael Shelley in our first year in University. We were in a maths class together. We had finals coming up and a handful of our classmates wanted to meet up at the south library to practice together later in the day. The study session ran extremely late, and it was dark when I left the building. He must have seen my hesitance and offered to walk me back to my dorm, and I guess we hit it off.

We went out quite a lot, and he was so sweet and always listened to what I had to say. He was occasionally forgetful, but he never made me feel like I was

Michael always had this… obsession with the unnatural. He told me what happened to his friend when he was a child, and I believed him well enough. I didn't believe in ghosts or ghouls or any of that lot, but he did. Michael heard that the Magnus Institute was hiring, and before I knew it he had dropped out and started working there full time. I was surprised, but honestly I didn’t think much of it at the time because he was so happy to have that damn job.

My parents were... not thrilled with Michael. To them, he was too quiet and, as you know, working for the Magnus Institute isn't the most glorious or well paying job, and my parents were worried that he was crazy. To be honest, he wasn't all there when I was with him, he always seemed to be a world away. But that didn't matter to me. He was mine, and we loved each other.

He proposed at my graduation, and we got married a few months later. The wedding was a small thing, his parents didn't come and mine showed up begrudgingly, so it was mostly just a few friends and his two of his coworkers that showed up in the end. Michael was so damn happy to see Emma and Eric. Eric even brought his little boy with him. It was the happiest day of our lives, I don’t think I ever saw Michael smile as much as he had that day.

We had a small apartment right between our workplaces. It was a bit of a trip for both of us, but I don't think either of us minded. He went on a few trips for the institute, so when he told me he was going north with Gertrude I didn’t see anything the matter with it. I helped him pack some warm clothes, and we had dinner before he left. Nothing… Nothing seemed wrong at first. I was used to him not being able to talk when he was on his trips, but after 3 weeks of silence went by I was scared. I got the letter the next day. “The Magnus Institute regrets to inform you that Michael Shelley has passed away. Our deepest condolences, Elias Bouchard.”

I went to the institute to get answers, storming my way into Elias’s office. He didn't even have the kindness to look shocked or even the slightest bit remorseful. Didn’t say shit about it either, just that he was dead. I asked about his body, if there was anything that could be buried or just anything about what happened. He just… stared at me, just saying that Michael was dead and that the institute was sorry.

I don’t remember much about what happened next, but I remember feeling his weasley little neck in my hands as I tried to squeeze the answers out of him. Security pulled me away and when he caught his breath he told me he wouldn’t press charges, but that I had to leave and not come back. As I was escorted out of the building, I saw Gertrude and Emma staring at me with those blank eyes. I begged her to tell me anything about Michael, anything at all and that I knew she was with him on that trip. Nothing made her react at all, but I swear she flinched when I asked if she killed him. I don’t know how I got home that day.

I prayed that day. I prayed that the institute was wrong, that Michael was alive, that this was just a sick fucking joke. But it wasn't, and I had to bury an empty box alone a few days later. Work gave me a few weeks off that were spent practically catatonic in our bed. People came by, friends, my parents, but they couldn’t bring him back to me or fill the empty hole that was left in my life. It's strange, you never realize how dependent you are on a person until they suddenly leave, no warning. It’s like a crutch being kicked out from under a missing limb, but you never stop falling.

But you don’t deserve my grief, my sadness, you already know what you did. You don’t want to know about my Michael, you want to know about the Michael you created. For Helen I will indulge you. I first saw the yellow door about three months after he passed. I was grieving, and that makes us so much more foolish. I had been walking home after work and I was lost in my own head, taking turns and alleys I hadn't ever seen before. I think I was around Westminster when it happened. Some men had tried to grab my purse, and I ran.

I heard their footsteps following me as I ran through the small, dark alleys, my shoes smacked against the slippery cobblestone and I was so afraid. I was ahead of them by a bit, and I started banging on doors, begging for someone to help me, but no one answered. No lights were on in any of the homes and I felt my heart hammering in my throat threatening to escape. Then I saw it, fused into a cobblestone fence. A bright yellow door at the end of the alley, just barely opened so a sliver of light peaked through. I ran towards it, running through it before slamming the door behind me. I never heard anything from the other side of the door.

When the adrenaline died off I noticed the hallway. The walls were an obnoxious mix of beige and yellow. There were these mirrors in the hallway, kind of like the mirrors at carnivals that distort your body and make you look different. Everything hurt to look at, and the lights were so bright I was getting a migraine. The place made me feel like I was on a LSD trip. That wasn't even the strangest thing though. In my peripheral vision I kept seeing… something. It only appeared where I couldn't focus on it. I tried to go back to the door I came from, but It wouldn't budge, and I never got a clear view of what was there so I started walking. After a few minutes of the endless nauseating hallways I saw another door.

I don't know what I expected when I opened the door, maybe more weird hallways, but never in a million years did I expect it to be my own apartment on the other side. I was frozen in place, shocked and so, so afraid when I felt something grip my shoulder strongly, jerking me forward and into my bedroom before the yellow door slammed shut with a bang. And when I looked back there was no door.

I told myself I was hallucinating. That something was wrong and it was all just a bad dream. I spent the whole night convincing myself I was going mental. Lying to myself worked, and I was so close to believing it when I saw the bruise on my skin under where I was shoved. Some part of that night had to have been true, I had no fucking clue what really happened.

Looking back it was so stupid of me. So fucking stupid but I needed to know what the hell happened that night. I started looking for danger, going into darker areas later in the night. I walked around with fake jewelry that looked nice enough from far away to entice some lowlife thief. I got robbed twice, got a few scrapes and bruises but the door didn’t show up again. Kept telling myself it was grief, maybe some disorder or another that stemmed from that first night.

I don't know how it was different from that night, but maybe it knew they wouldn't have hurt me too bad, so the door left me to my own devices, or maybe I’m just insane..

I wasn't expecting a door when I saw it next. There had been a break-in near my work, and a police officer came by to ask us some questions. The officer was this real brute of a man, tall enough that he had to duck to get into the shop. I don’t remember his name, but I didn't like the look of him. Of course I answered the questions, but the officer just started getting closer and closer. I was scared and closed my eyes for just a second, and when I opened them the yellow door was to my right, where a window was supposed to be. I bolted straight into the door, I don't even know if the officer followed me. But the door opened and the nauseating hallway was there again.

When I heard the door latch I took a moment to breathe. The strange figure appeared in my peripherals again, always disappearing when I tried to focus on it. I called out to it, asking where I was and what was going on. Looking down the hallway I saw something tap the mirror, like it was poking it from inside. I moved closer until I saw the horrible hand gripping the inside of the mirror. They weren't hands, hands don't have that many bones, hands aren't that long or sharp but… there they were. I didn’t even realize I was standing in front of it until I felt that strange weight on my shoulder again. I turned around quickly but nothing was there, and turning around I almost screamed. My reflection was there, but it wasn't alone. Whatever was connected to those claws resting on my shoulders looked almost like Michael. I could feel the weight on my shoulders, but the thing with Michael’s face was only in the mirror.

Michael wasn't originally a tall man, but now he almost had to bend over to fit his entire frame in the mirror. Michael didn't have hands like that, Michael’s smile was never that large, and most importantly, Michael wasn't alive. But here stood the thing that was and wasn't my husband. But when he said hello I just broke down. I told him everything and begged him to stay by my side. He said he had left, but that which both is and isn't him has been here. He said he would stay, and I said that I loved him. I don’t think he loved me, not the… the new version of him. I don't even think he had any emotions left at the end. I think there was just enough Michael to remember me.

I knew he wasn't exactly like my Michael, but he was close enough to make me happy. I knew he was hurting people, the hallways weren’t silent, and I heard screaming occasionally. There were a lot of mirrors in his doors, and sometimes I saw faces in them, real normal faces. I wanted him back, even as he had become he was still my Michael.

His door was in our… my apartment some days. Oftentimes it wouldn't even open, but it was just a comforting presence. His door, his shenanigans, it all just became my new life. He wasn't Michael, but he was enough like him to make the grief go away. If I fooled myself enough it almost felt normal again, like when we were first married. He didn't speak much, he just came and went like a house cat. I would speak to him, or at least his door when I was particularly lonely.

There were times he acted like his old self. Some days he would go through the motions of making coffee, only to stare at it in distaste before he disappeared.

I would see him standing in our apartment, just staring at a wall or going through one of his old routines. Some nights I would wake up to see him staring at me from the foot of our bed. I even found some of his gold hair on his pillow again. We lived that way for around seven years. In that time, nothing really changed, we just inhabited the same area. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than living without him, so I didn't mind.

A few months before he disappeared, again, he came back with blood on his hands. I tried to ask what happened, but all he would say was that he “poked the eye”, and I assume that means it's your lot. He seemed so pleased with himself so I didn't ask any more questions. That's when things got bad again.

I didn't see him for a few weeks, and I was worried, not even his door was here. I was so afraid he was gone again, and I worried I was insane again. I prayed, not to God this time, no, I prayed to the hallways and the ever changing fractals. I prayed to the spiral Michael mentioned. I offered worship and my love in exchange for any part of my lover back. And this time someone answered.

There was a figure in my room again, but it wasn't Michael. It was a woman I came to know as Helen. She was around the same height as my new Michael, and her voice was just as disorienting and alluring as my husband. I had to mourn Michael twice, but Helen filled in the gaps he left very well. Helen didn't know much about me, only that she felt pulled towards me, but she was determined to learn.

Helen tried to be a person more than Michael did at the end. Michael would never stay long, but Helen would spend hours in our apartment, just sitting or watching me. I would see her doors throughout my day, always in the most impossible places. She told me once it was just to see me smile, can you believe that? Michael did the same thing, and I adore her for this kindness. She is such a kind presence, and I care for her.

It's strange, in another life I think I could love her the way I love Michael. But this is not the life we are in, and my heart belongs to Michael. You took him from me, and I will never forgive you for that, your eyes will be blind one day and you will be left with nothing, just like me.

Statement… ends. Helen, why did she give this to me. What does this mean? I asked Elias, and apparently some of this is verified. Michael did pass away at this time, and he was married to one Mx. (Y/N) Shelley. I have elected not to reach out to their family, as if this is true, then reaching out would only end poorly. I… I need to talk to Helen.

[fanworks-library]

In the Crooks of Your Body (I Find My Religion)

Tags: Forced Relationship, Developing Relationship, Denial of Feelings, Awkward Crush, Secret Crush, Eventual Fluff, You Repeatedly Encounter Helen & Catch Feelings Oops

Neither of you move. Instead you simply freeze there, losing yourself to the swirling color in the marbles of her eyes. The both of you so close you can almost make out your own dreamy expression in the reflection, tiny and wavering. It’s she who breaks the moment, impossibly angled curls coiling and rearranging themselves into broken fractals you already know feel impossibly satin between your fingers. As the moment falls further and further away, you become aware of the warmth radiating from your face in waves, so intense you nearly want to reject the reality of the nervous heat humming under your skin.

                                                    Read More

[scribeofmorpheus]

As Fate Would Have It (Part 16)

Paring: WinterSoldier!Bucky x Spy!Reader

Catch Up here | Masterlist

Words: 4.1k | Note: Reader’s alias is Elle/Helen

A/N: It is with great pleasure that I can finally, finally, say that this chapter was actually the first ever chapter I wrote for this series (before it was even a series tbh). All the previous chapters were meant to be simple, world-building prequels that spiralled out of control! lol. Writing just turns out like that sometimes.

Warnings: Violence, themes of PTSD, brainwashing, mentions of sex, terribly written action scenes and annngggst?

Note: I chose to call Bucky’s POV the 'Winter Soldier' because I firmly believe that at this point they are two separate people.

Songs: White Rabbit | The Winter Soldier | Siberian Overture

Feel free to ask to be tagged, leave a like, reblog or comment ♥

~Brooklyn~

You looked out the window overlooking a garden filled with yellow roses while a cup of tea cooled between your palms. Your reflection looking back at you with a blank expression, your hair still as white as snow. The steam reaching up to tickle your nose with the notes of chamomile and peppermint.

"How're the kids?" You asked the woman sat next to you. Her face framed by glasses that looked alien against her heart-shaped face. Grey hairs growing in number at a more frequent pace.

"Jack's finally got a job," she sounded thankful. "And Ellie just transfered to Brown."

You smiled warmly, "I told you he'd land on his feet."

"About god damn time, that kid nearly drove me up the wall."

You tutted, "Remember what the doctor said about minding that temper, it's not good for your blood pressure Sal."

"Keepin' my blood pressure in check is Hal's job," she said with a little sass as her thumb rubbed against her wedding ring. "You going somewhere?"

"Why'd you ask?"

"You only come over before you disappear for a while."

You chuckled, "Paris. Got a new job. Protective detail."

Sally looked out the window wistfully, her age showing clear as day, "Hal always promised we'd go to Paris for our honeymoon."

You turned to your old friend and nudged her with your elbow, "If you promise to keep your blood pressure in check, I'll take you someday."

"Someday for you isn't the same for me," Sally noted, looking at your reflection thoughtfully. "Hard to believe we were once the same age."

You stood from the chair and put on your bomber jacket, "We still are."

Sally took your cup to the sink, "Yes, you just discovered the secret to eternal youth. Good thing Annie isn't with us no more, or else she'd lock you in her basement till you told her your secret, god rest her soul."

You laughed half-heartedly. You placed a kiss on her temple before grabbing your motorcycle keys, "Try not to be too hard on Jack while I'm gone. Oh, and… uh, give Hal my best!"

"Will do, hun! Oh and Y/N!" She walked over to you and handed you a folded piece of photo paper. "I got Ellie to help me figure out how to use one of them copiers. It's a little darker than the original but..."

You looked down at the last photo you'd ever taken. Early 1942; you, Sally, Hal, Bucky, Steve and Annie stood under a going away banner that read:‘Good Luck At Your New Job!!’

"Two exclamation marks..." you mused lightly.

You left Sally's house and slid your helmet over your head.

***

The cryo-chamber unhooked with a metallic hiss, frost smoking out like fog as the cylindrical containment was lifted up. The hydraulics of the levers arm let out a groan of air. Yellow light bathing the room.

"Ghaaaaahh!" The Winter Soldier screamed in agony as the machine fastened over his right eye flashed blinding streaks of white light into his corneas.

"Zhelaniye," a man dressed in a decorated military uniform read out from a red leather-bound book -most likely a Major.

Longing

The screams persisted as a few more flashes of white light flickered.

"Rzhavyy."

Rusted

The screaming stopped.

"Semnadtsat’."

Seventeen

The machine gave off an electrical whizz as it dismantled away from the metal armed soldier's face. His breathing was raged, animalistic. His jaw still shut tight from the aftershocks of pain but it was his eyes that unsettled the most, seething with unbridled rage.

The Major continued reading out the words with no care for the soldier's disposition, "Rassvet. Pech’. Devyat. Dobroserdechnyy. Vozvrashcheniye na rodinu. Odin. Gruzovoy vagon."

Daybreak. Furnace. Nine. Benign. Homecoming. One. Freight car.

The soldier in the chair had steadied his breathing now. Each breath calm, composed, sinister.

"Dobroye utro, Soldat." The Major said monotonously, slamming the red book shut.

Good morning, Soldier.

The soldier kept his eyes glued to something infinitesimal in front of him with almost inhuman stillness, "Ya gotov otvechat’." His voice was as rough as gravel.

Ready to comply

The Major walked over to a table and retrieved a file and opened it to the middle part. He placed the docket in front of the Winter Soldier, the file making a slapping noise with the table.

There were two photographs fastened to the docket with paper clips. The larger of the two photographs, and coincidentally of better quality, was of a rounding man with a thinning hairline and thick moustache. The smaller photo wasn't in colour or of a high resolution, the only features that could be made out were that it was an image of a woman wearing a trench coat almost as white as her hair, large glasses obscuring half her face.

"Your target is this man. He's a French politician."

The Winter Soldier stood, his metal finger tapping heavily on the photograph. "Understood."

"Soldat. Take extra precaution. He's hired extra security. Someone we've had trouble within the past. She has made quite a name for herself due to her illusive nature. No one knows where she came from, who trained her or her real name. The intelligence community has taken to calling her the White Rabbit."

The soldier flinched, his brain scrambling for a moment as a woman’s voice he didn't recognise spoke out as clear as day: "The little rabbit?"

Internally, a high pitched noise generated a distorted image of blood-stained lips opening into an unnerving smile. Dead eyes staring up at the sky.

His head jerked to the side in a ridged motion before it snapped back in place, strands of long raven hair sticking to the sweat on his face. The noise fizzled out of his brain as though it never existed. He looked up to his superior officer and shrugged off the incident that just occurred, "Understood."

~Paris, France~

You followed your client into the VIP lounge area of a prestigious club. As soon as you walked through the bead roped entranced, a ring of smoke diffused around your face, a trail of white smoke leading back to a patron sitting on a couch blowing out expertly crafted smoke rings from a hookah pipe. The smell of clover and something more primal, sexual, stuck to the walls of the secret member’s only club. Amidst all the fancy dressed men and women, you stood out with your all-black tactical gear.

Your client walked past several seedy rooms until he reached the final room at the end of the hallway. You stepped in front of him and opened the door. After canvassing the area you gave him the all-clear. Several minutes later his associates arrived and they all sat around in a circle of expensive tastes, finely tailored suits and beefy cigars that reminded you of Colonel Phillips.

It was strange how your memory of your encounter with him brought you comfort, but these days comfort was near impossible for you to find, so you took it where you found it.

You stood as still and balanced as a marble statue, your gloved hands held behind your back in a stiff posture. On occasion, you and other bodyguards would do a sweep of the room.

"Jesus, doesn't she freak you the fuck out?" One of the smartly dressed men asked in fluent French. A language you were well versed in. "She's like a fucking statue. I haven't seen her move once. Except for those dead eyes of hers."

Your employer glanced at you with a large cigar between his crooked teeth, "Sometimes, sure. But I've noticed how intimidating she makes me look when I'm in a room filled with assholes almost as lecherous as you!"

The men laughed- so did some of their protection detail.

"Besides, once you get passed the whole ghost look, she's actually not so bad to look at," your employer grumbled suggestively with a sick grin on his face.

Your eyes snapped to him and he choked on some of his spit, washing it down with a glass of port. You looked back to the windows as you canvassed the area again. A breeze blew the lace curtains softly, making you think of the lace curtains that had drawn patterns across Bucky’s face with the sunlight in his apartment.

You bit down, hard, as you forced yourself to focus on hand. A ray of red-light was reflected by a well-polished, silver, decor piece. The ray transformed into a dot and instinctively you reached across the room and pulled the back of your employer's chair to the ground.

The soft whistle of a silencer pierced through glass, grazing the side of your arm. You snarled at the contact.

The room was silent for a second and then a second bullet pierced through the glass window, this time forcing it to shatter.

"Get down!" You ordered as several security personnel moved to shield their employers and transport them away from the room.

You kicked the oak tabled to the side and took cover behind it. "Get them to the safe room downstairs!" You ordered the rest of the personnel.

"What about you?" One of the bodyguards asked.

"I'll lay down cover fire. Get them out of here." You said calmly as you upholstered your 9mm handgun and fired based off the trajectory of the bullets holes lodged in the wall.

Several of your bullets ricochet off something metallic from the sniper's nest on the adjacent roof. The impact forming sparks in the night air.

The room became a burial site for sniper slugs as they littered the walls and sofas and decorations. The metallic pinging sound reminding you to stay hunkered low until your enemies clip ran out.

You reloaded your gun and fired off cover shots as you moved away from the window. On the ground was a single casing. You recognised the make. Soviet slug, no rifling. The memory of the ambush in the mountains skittered across your synapses before you were brought back to the present by another shot tearing through the weak walls.

Suddenly, the shooting stopped. You rose from behind cover and tried to gain a visual of the target with a piece of broken mirror. From this angle, you saw the silhouette of what you assumed to be the rifleman run and then jump. The sound of glass shattering from the window a floor below alerting you to the fact he was now in the building.

A small object hit the floor in the room around the same time, you looked over and realised he had thrown a grenade into the room.

"Fuck..." you swore in a panic, holstering your gun before you lassoed the hooked end of your utility rope around a column and dove out the window. The explosion from the grenade sent off hundreds of pieces of shrapnel flying through the air. You managed to outrun the brunt of the impact, but some slugs embedded themselves in your back and thigh. You gasped from the pain.

Swinging in the air, you propelled your body towards the window the assailant had jumped through and unclipped the rope from your belt once you dove through the window.

You ran after the sounds of a heavy man’s boots sprinting down the series of open rooms. You were faster and more agile so you caught up to him faster than most would've been able too. As soon as you got close enough to the man, you sprinted closer and slid your legs under his in an effort to topple him.

He anticipated your moves with inhuman speed. As soon as your leg knocked his off-balance, he used his metal arm to balance his upheaved weight around and down so he was facing you as soon as his body stopped moving through the air. His fingers leaving a trail of claw-like scratches on the floor.

You quickly upholstered your weapon while your back was on the ground and fired off several shots. The assassin deflected them all with his opened metal palm.

You hissed in annoyance then backflipped twice to gain some distance between you and him before you fired more shots. This time he bobbed and weaved, avoiding most of your bullets save for the one that scrapped alongside his protective eyewear, grazing the skin above his eyebrow in an angled slant.

The assassin charged at you with all his strength. You pulled the trigger but the clip was empty. You tossed your gun and timed his charge so you could sling over and around him, wrapping your legs around his midrib as you furiously hammered the business end of your elbow into the concave of his shoulder blade.

One, two, three, you landed bone-crunching hits into his collar and shoulder blade but it didn't slow him down for a second. He reached over and around, grabbed the back of your tactical vest and flung you over and away from him.

Your body slumped into the wall with intense velocity, popping your shoulder out of its socket and leaving an indent in the drywall. You coughed out blood, then shook the ringing from your ears and stood to face him. Gripping your dislocated arm, you tugged on it hard, snapping it in place with a painful grunt.

"Okay, comrade. You want to play dirty, let’s play dirty!" You rotated your wrists clockwise, activating the current switch embedded inside you gloves. They thrummed with an electric current pulsating through them as you unclipped the metal batons from your back. Electric crackles of electricity sparking down the length of you metal fight sticks. "Let's see how well you handle current!"

The assassin stalked over in large strides, upholstering his knife from the side of his leg. He gripped it with the precision of an expert. Come to think of it, a lot of his tactics were similar to those you were taught in the Red Room.

He forward slashed and backslashed in quick succession of the other. You pirouetted away on your light feet and spun around him, bringing your electrified batons crashing down on his metal arm. The electricity conducted lethally from your gloves to his body, making him let out a shrill howl.

The sound of his cries sounded familiar. Darkened but familiar.

You faltered for a split second and that was all the time he needed to spin around and kick you against the wall.

You heard your rib crack as one baton fell to the ground. Relentlessly, he traded one blow after the other with his metal arm aimed at your head. You ducked and leaned away from each attack, but the wall now had four fist-sized punctures in them.

For his final move, he spin-kicked you in the stomach one more time and the wall integrity gave in. You fell through the crumbling wall and landed against a mound of white, dusty drywall.

The assassin hovered over you, knife in hand. Your mouth was filled with the taste of blood and your organs screamed in agony. You tried to crawl towards your batons a few inches in front of you.

You dragged your body at a snail’s pace, the assassin simply followed after you in languid steps. When your hand wrapped around the baton, his boot pressed down on your gloved hand, preventing you from lifting it and cracking the electric conductor that generated the current in your gloves.

He turned you over so your back was to the floor and your eyes stared at his black mask. He slipped his knife between your ribs and you let out a soft gasp for air.

"Hhhnngggg!" You bit down to keep from screaming, your mind beginning to fracture as you hallucinated pink petals raining down around you.

You gripped his hand and tried to push it away. A sliver of electricity passed through you both. Your eyes shot open from surprise. For a second, you thought you were back in your old apartment, hands laced together with Bucky while you sat on your couch. Then the bone serrating sound of the knife leaving your chest snapped you back to the present.

With what remnants of a stable mind you had left, you urged the muscles in your hand to work as you reached into a pouch pocket and pulled out a syringe of adrenaline. You took several controlled breaths and then plunged it into your heart, a scream rippling out of your lungs as you pushed down on the plunger.

***

The Winter Soldier stood, backing away from his defeated foe, wiping his knife on the sleeve of his shirt as he made his way towards his real objective. Then he heard her gasp raggedly and his mind instantly pictured her wearing a pink waitress uniform, notepad in hand, offering a handkerchief to a scrawny man seated across him.

He braced both sides of his head as this intrusive image seared like hot coals across his thoughts. The pain was so intense he was brought down to one knee in a loud thud. A scream filled the room and he willed the pain to stop as he turned to look at the woman he left dying on the floor, except she wasn't dying anymore.

In amazement and curiosity, he watched as she picked herself off the floor. Every scrape, cut and wound beginning to heal, as she came after him. She danced around him faster than before, the adrenaline making her a nimble opponent, too slippery for him to get his hands around. She punched, kicked and elbowed with combo after combo in a dizzying flurry.

The Winter Soldier was slowly backed towards a tall window. She kicked him three times square in the chest, face and shoulder, sending his back forcefully into the window glass, causing it to sound out a cracking sound the instant his face guard got knocked off.

When he thought she was about to finish her attacks and kick him out the eight-story building, she froze. Eyes opened wider than ever, eyeballs skittering across every inch of his face in search of something, her lips and fingers quivering subtly. It was then he saw her fists no longer clenched defensively.

"That's impossi--" Her words no louder than a pin-drop.

The Winter Soldier's metal arm reached out and grabbed onto her arm, using his tremendous strength to fling her into the adjacent wall. Their faces mere inches apart. Hers contorted by pain and confusion. She stared into his steel-blue eyes, causing a shiver to run down his spine. Her petite fingers wrapped around his hand -still connected to her throat- but she didn't fight him.

Anger filled his senses as he couldn't make sense of all the images and colours and flashes that were evoked by her touch. The skull-cracking headache placing unbearable pressure on his cranium. He tried to blink the pain away, and for all his agonising efforts, it only grew deeper. The Winter Soldier struggled to keep his grip fixed on her throat.

***

Bucky's metal fingers felt so cold against your skin, almost as cold as his eyes. It hurt you how devoid of emotion they were when he stared at you with menacing rage. Nevertheless, you kept searching for a glimpse of the man you once knew. The man you once loved. And if the swell of emotions tangling against your heart was any indication, you were certain you were still in love with him.

Your fingers slid along the length of his arm as he turned his gaze away from you as though you burned him. His brows close together and eyes crinkling in pain.

You were a half-inch away from touching a strand of his outgrown hair when his head snapped back to yours with a newfound determination, and then he began to squeeze his grip.

He effortlessly raised your body off the ground, feet dangling as blood rushed to your brain. Your fingers began to claw and dig against his iron-clad grip, fighting to open up your airways.

***

The woman struggled against his tightened grip, back of her feet kicking against the wall as she failed to gasp for breath. She made him feel uncertain. The touch of her skin, even against his metal arm, felt hauntingly familiar. Almost as though they had this before, be close to one another, touch one another. Another image attacked his thoughts, this time she was seated beside him high atop the world, watching an extravaganza of fireworks.

“What… Is she doing to me?” His thoughts screamed in disarray.

Whatever powers she had over him mattered not because no matter how many images shed conjure to bombard his senses, and no matter how conflicting his feelings became, she was keeping him from his target. And the Winter Soldier never fails.

"Bucky..." She whimpered.

His hand began to shake as another memory was awoken:

“Bucky,” she whispered before bridging the gap between the two them. Rumblings of a crowd begin to cheer and whistle. Her giggling into the kiss. Fireworks going off in the distance, bathing her skin in its artificial rainbow of colours.

The Winter Soldier shook his head furiously, blinking away the image. He looked back up at the woman locked within his death grip, her face turning red.

A single tear ran down her cheek and plopped onto his metal arm. She looked at him without fear or bitterness.

"Buck," she failed to let out the whole word through cracking vocals.

Another flash bombarded his senses:

“I’ve missed you, Buck,” she admitted. He placed one hand around her cheek, the other around the small of your back holding her gaze. His lips met hers in a passionate embrace, she leaned into his touch as a moan escaped her lips. He guided her body towards a wall, pinning her there while one hand moved achingly slowly from her waist to her thigh. His grip greedy and rough causing her to quiver.

The flash disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared.

The woman saw this as an opening as sucked in as much air as her constricted airways were allowed.

"Buchanan!" She shouted with all the strength she had left, eyes glaring at him with fire.

This time the flash was stronger:

"Buchanan!" She mewled as she climaxed atop him. Her swollen lips placing sloppy kisses on his. The muscles of her core contracting around him, edging him closer to his own release. He gripped her hips higher, she moaned pleasantly in response. He thrust deeper, trying to become one with her, and then he climaxed inside her, filling her completely. She fell against his chest like a rag doll, her fingers drawing circles where his heart should be. Then he uttered: "God… I never want to be apart from you."  

***

Bucky, or whatever it was he had become now, instantly released his fingers from your neck, leaving behind deep bruised marks. You sucked in air like some famished animal, your hand gripping at your shirt collar.

You scampered for purchase on the wall as your balance was still uneven. Slowly, you brought your eyes to meet Bucky's and this time you felt relief.

He was on his knees, a lost expression taking over as tears slid down his face. He was looking up at you, hands shaking furiously. The veins on his temple swollen and exposed. This wasn't the face of the stranger who just tried to kill you. This was the face of a man torn in two.

Hope flickered to life inside you. Your eyebrows drawing upwards in solace. A dark chuckle sputtering in your throat.

Of course, this was how fate decreed you meet again. Any other way would've been too easy.

Through the silence, you picked up the soft sound of the elevator nearby ding each time it went up a floor. There was you back up.

"H-Helen?" He finally found the strength to speak in a voice darker than the one you knew.

You hadn't expected him to call you by that name. You knew your focus should have been on the miracle Bucky was alive and seemingly hadn't aged, or the fact he remembered you, but instead, your thoughts returned to that damned day in the mountains. To the sound of bullets cutting through bodies, explosions scattering shrapnel into your body.

Your mind retreated further into itself, returning to that chair in the torture cell and all the times you'd been showered with shock after shock after shock.

You knelt down and picked up a piece of piping that had been loosened during the fight. Your eyes closing shut for a moment as you took shallow breaths.

The pain, starvation and hate you endured while being held prisoner at the expense of Yelena's betrayal turned into a whirlpool of rage, dragging you to the bottom of a dark pit inside you.

When you opened your eyes, white-hot fury burned through your irises. You snapped like steam building in a pressure cooker and before you could stop yourself, you swung the piece of piping at Bucky's head, knocking him onto the ground. He was out cold.

The elevator dinged again. They were getting closer.

"I always hated that name," you dropped the pipping and ran your hand through your damp hair. You tried to strategize how to get out of this new predicament. "Now, what the fuck am I going to do with you?"

~Part 17 Coming Soon

  Tags: @fangirl-colo @dormousse @smallmarvel @ren-ni @sargentbucket @nikolett3 @wnygirl2012 @jentismyname @evilgeniuslabz-blog @myrabbitholetoneverland @sleepingspacedragon  @500daysofbecky @reidreader  

[leaves-of-three]

Day Eleven: Part Two || Soon

Connor Murphy x Reader

Word Count: 1713

Summary: A continuation to Day Eleven. Getting ready for a date with a Connor and a slight change of plans.  [This is part of an in progress series. You can follow along here.]

Author’s Note: This is kinda short. I was only gonna have two parts to day eleven. The first half when he asks her on a date and then the date itself. But then the idea of using Connor to get back at a parent you’re pissed at sounded too appealing and it turned into this. And I wanted the actual dinner to be separate piece because I got tired of writing this one lol idk I've just felt like crap lately. One of these days my writing will better maybe xKatie

You wanted to be happy. You wanted to be excited. You were technically going on a date with Connor. Sort of. You don’t just jump into someone’s arms and make out with them, then get asked to dinner by them the next day, if it wasn’t a date. Right? You should be happy. This was what you wanted. This was what you had been waiting for. 

Then how come the second you clicked out of facetime with him, you felt nothing? It was like the moment his face was out of your direct line of sight, you felt empty. Why did your mood change so suddenly? This morning you woke up beaming over Connor. Now you struggled to find the will power to get out of bed. You were laying there waiting for any sort of emotion to hit but nothing was coming. Seconds turned into minutes, minutes to into hours, and before you knew it darkness was creeping over your room. 

You hadn’t moved from your bed once. 

As it inched closer to 7, you finally forced yourself into the bathroom to take a shower. You’d probably feel excited when you started getting ready. You could shower, wash your hair, redo your make up, dry and curl your hair, and pick out an outfit. It should be fun. You used to love this part of getting ready for a date. You’d listen to music and dance around your room. Typically Alyssa would have been over to help. She’d give you advice on what to wear and what to say as long as you promised to fill her in on all the details afterwards. Your evenings would be filled with laughter, excitement, and hope. 

You missed having girlfriends. 

You missed laughing. 

The shower sputtered to life as you stood naked in your bathroom. You held your hand under the stream then quickly pulled it back. It was freezing. The hot water would take a few minutes to warm up. You shivered. Your house always ran cold. You grabbed a fluffy, white towel and wrapped it around yourself while you patiently waited for steam to start filling the tiny room. Opposite you sat the mirror hanging over the bathroom sink. Your eyes were drawn up to the reflection. 

There was nothing looking back. There was no life of a person behind your eyes. They were blank. For some reason you started to feel shameful, like you had done something wrong, like it was your fault that you weren’t able to feel the right emotions. You were supposed to be happy. The fact that you weren’t only caused you to be racked with guilt. Something was wrong with you. You weren’t working properly. 

You stayed staring into the void of your eyes until the mirror began to steam up. Your reflection became distorted and softened as the fog crept along the glass. When you could no longer see any distinguishing features of yourself, you hung your towel back up and stepped into the water. It stung your skin. Blood rose to your cheeks under the heat. You closed your eyes and let the water soak away your sins. 

Five minutes in and you had started crying. You were always crying. There was no in between. You were either crying or you were zoning out for hours. This afternoon had been a rare treat when you could actually function and get something productive done. Those special moments were few and fleeting nowadays. Whatever spark you had found earlier was gone. You would have to cancel on Connor. You couldn’t go out like this. No one wants a dinner date with a crying zombie. 

You rinsed off any remaining shampoo in your hair and turned off your shower. Your sniffling, quiet sobs sounded more prominent without the water to drown them out. Pathetic. You were pathetic. It would be impossible for anyone to ever find you attractive or desirable like this. Why were you even trying to trick yourself? To Connor, you were probably nothing more than a charity case that had been thrust upon him.

With a towel wrapped tightly around you, you pulled your hairdryer out from under the sink cabinet. If you wanted to cancel on him so badly then why were you still getting ready? Maybe you still had a some hope that your excitement would return and everything would go back to normal. It was a losing bet. Normal wasn’t something you were familiar with anymore. 

Hair dry. Curled. Brushed out into soft waves. 

Make up done. Foundation. Highlighter. Lashes. Winged liner. Natural lips. 

Clothes picked out. Skinny jeans. Loose top. Cardigan. Boots. 

Jewelry on. Necklace. Two rings. Painted nails. 

You evaluated your appearance in the mirror. You could make yourself look decent on the outside but you knew the truth. On the inside you were hollow and miserable. It would only be a matter of time before everyone else realized the truth too.

Connor: Today 6:58 pm: be there soon

Y/N: Today 6:58 pm: I’ll be waiting :)

The doorbell ran. You looked down at your phone in confusion. That was fast. He had just texted you. You grabbed your purse, slinging it over your shoulder, and pulled open the front door. 

You took a step back in surprise. Instead of seeing Connor, you came face to face with a woman you’d never see before. “Oh crap...sorry. I thought you were someone else,” you tried to force some sort of polite smile onto your face. “Can I help you?”

The woman smiled back. She was tall and slim. Her hair was dyed a shade of blonde that didn’t quite match her skin tone. The dye job made it look like a bad wig. She looked to be in her mid thirties. “You must be Y/N? It’s so lovely to finally meet you,” she spoke as if you were supposed to know who the hell she was. 

You gave her a look of confusion, “Uh, if you’re selling something, we don’t want it but thanks anyway...”

She laughed. Like her hair color, it was obviously fake, “No, no, sweetie.” You despised being called sweetie. “I’m Holly. Holly Silk?” She picked up that the name didn’t sound familiar so she added, “...Your dad’s girlfriend?”

Your stomach dropped. Since when was your father dating? He had never once mentioned or shown interest in that sort of thing since your mom had passed. It had been ten years. You felt naive to admit it, but you always believed that he would have stayed true to your mother, that the idea of seeing another woman would have been absurd to him. Your mind began to race through a million things at once. You felt sick. This was bound to happen eventually. If you thought about it realistically, of course he’d want to find someone to spend his time with. But why hadn’t he ever mentioned it to you? And why her? Holly Silk? That sounded like a name a porn star would make up. You hated this woman instantly. 

You gave her a snide smile and said in a sickly sweet voice, “I’m sorry, Holly. My father isn’t in at the moment. I’ll be sure to tell him you stopped by.” You went to close the door in her face. 

She put her hand out to stop it, trying not to look as annoyed as she felt, “Actually I was hoping I could come in and wait. I’ve been away on a business trip the past two days. I thought I would surprise Steven when he got home. I was going to cook his favorite meal.” She held up the grocery bags in her hands, “Tacos! I’ve brought all the fixings for them. Enough for all three of us to eat. I thought it would be a good time for us to get to know each other.” 

You scowled, “Actually my dad’s favorite meal is my dead mother’s famous lasagna recipe that we make every Christmas but good try.” 

Holly still did her best to hold up the smile plastered on her face despite her eyes flashing in displeasure, “Well regardless, maybe I come in? I’ve been waiting to get to know you for some time now. It’d be lovely to have dinner with you and your father.” 

That was the last thing on earth you’d ever want to be doing. Your anger for your father started to grow. How could he be seeing someone and not tell you? It was his fault she was showing up at your door. It was his fault some stranger was begging to come inside and cook with you. He was so oblivious to everything going on in your life. While you were out lost in a forest and having your entire life crumble around you, he was out fucking around with Ms. Porn Star Name. You had spent the past week crying yourself to sleep every night and he had no damn clue. Your mother would have known. She would have picked up on your change in behavior. She would have known how to take care of you. She would have been a parent. Your jaw clenched. Everything was your father’s fault, you decided. 

You crossed your arms as a plan formed in your head. An evil grin spread across your face. “Actually Helen-

“Holly,” she corrected.

“My bad. Actually Holly, I’m waiting for a date to show up and take me out to dinner. He should be here any moment. But if you didn’t mind, I could always invite him inside to eat with us. It could be a double date. I’m sure my father would be thrilled.” The idea of Connor, probably still on his high from earlier, with a face bruised and bloodied sitting to eat dinner with you and your dad’s girlfriend sounded like the perfect form of revenge. If your dad could surprise you with a new girlfriend then, surely, he wouldn’t mind if you surprised him Connor. 

Holly sighed in relief. She obviously had no idea what was in store. “That would be wonderful! I hope you don’t mind changing your plans for me?”

You pushed open the door and stepped aside for her. “No, no. It’s perfectly fine. Don’t worry. Please, come in. My date will be thrilled be to meet you...I’m sure of it.” 

[maximwtf]

A Masterlist

-♥︎-  All works from different fandoms listed and linked here! -♥︎-

♥︎ - You’ll find the characters and fandoms I write for linked at the bottom !

♥︎ - Some rules for requests are there too.

Kirikaze beloved

♡ Baldur’s Gate 3

Astarion x Reader (emotional hurt/comfort)

♡ Genshin Impact

Beidou x Reader (platonic, action/fluff-ish)

Baizhu x Reader (hurt/comfort)

Baizhu x Reader (hurt/comfort)

Kamisato Ayato x Reader (angst/comfort)

Xianyun x Reader (chronic pain/comfort)

Thoma x Reader (emotional hurt/comfort)

Tighnari x Reader (hurt/comfort)

Tighnari x Valuka Shuna! Reader (angst-ish/comfort)

Alhaitham x Reader (Fluff/Sleepy Cuddles)

Kaveh x Reader (Emotional Hurt/Comfort)

Capitano x Reader (Angst/No Comfort/Comfort)

Kinich x Reader (Angst/Hurt/Comfort, Platonic)

♡ Our Flag Means Death

Izzy Hands x Reader (injury)

Izzy Hands x Reader (chronic pain)

Izzy Hands x Reader (Injury/death)

Izzy Hands x Reader (hidden relationship)

Izzy Hands x Reader (love letters)

Izzy Hands x Reader (hurt/comfort-ish)

Izzy Hands x Reader (sword fighting)

Izzy Hands x Reader (whip scarring, hurt/comfort)

Izzy Hands x Reader (angst/comfort)

Izzy Hands x Reader (Fluff, re-blossoming love)

Stede Bonnet x Reader (comfort)

Stede Bonnet x Reader (fluff)

♡ The Magnus Archives

Jonathan Sims x Reader (worm bite)

Elias Bouchard x Reader (a burn)

Helen Distortion x Reader (Hurt/Comfort)

♡ The Arcane

Silco x Injured reader (death/gore)

Viktor x reader (comfort)

Viktor x reader (injury/comfort)

Heimerdinger x Sick Reader (comfort)

Dying Viktor x reader (death)

♡ Obey me

Simeon x reader

Asmodeus x reader (anxiety attack/comfort)

Lucifer x stressed reader (comfort)

♡ The Arcana

Julian Devorak x Sick! Reader (Red Plague/Death)

♡ Lord of the rings / The hobbit

Legolas x Male Elven Reader (Death/comfort)

Legolas x reader (injury) (1)

Legolas x reader (Injury/comfort) (2)

Legolas x Elven reader (Injury/Death)

Legolas x reader (Frostbite/fluff?)

Legolas x reader (Hair braiding/fluff)

Legolas x reader (Angst/no comfort)

Legolas x reader (small injury/comfort)

Elrond x Elven warrior reader (injury)

Elrond x Injured reader (Dragon fire burn)

Elrond x Reader (Hurt/no comfort)

Thranduil x Elven warrior reader (Dragon fire scar)

Thranduil x Elven reader (grief)

Lindir x warrior reader (injury)

Aragorn x reader (Injury/death)

Kili x reader (injury/comfort)

♡ Steven universe 

Pearl x Gem Reader (hurt/comfort)

Pearl x Gem Reader (poofed/comfort?)

Pearl x reader (fluff)

Peridot x gem reader (limb enhancers)

Peridot x Sapphire! Reader / Pt.1

Peridot x Sapphire! Reader / Pt.2

Jasper x gem reader 

♡ Pokémon

Captain Ilima x injured reader

♡ Bbc Sherlock Holmes

Sherlock Holmes (Mycroft Holmes) x Sister reader

Mycroft Holmes x reader (overdose)

Mycroft Holmes x reader (trauma response/comfort)

Mycroft Holmes x reader (nightmares/comfort)

♡ Pirates of the Caribbean

Jack Sparrow x pirate reader

♡ Squid Game

Sang-woo x dying reader

The Front Man x reader

♡ Lucifer

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel reader (Trauma/comfort)

Lucifer Morningstar X Angel Reader (Injury/preening)

Lucifer morningstar x Deity reader

Lucifer Morningstar x reader (injury/comfort)

Michael x Angel Reader (Injury)

♡ Fantastic Beasts And Where To Find Them

Newt Scamander x Animagus Reader (1)

Newt Scamander x Animagus Reader (2)

Platonic! Newt Scamander x Animagus! Reader

♡ Peaky Blinders

Thomas Shelby (Ada, Polly) x Depressed Reader

♡ Inside Job

Myc x Reader (Hurt/comfort?)

♡ Cookie Run Kingdom

Almond x injured reader

Almond x Reader (Fluff)

Mango x reader (injured/comfort)

♡ Mystic Messenger

Jaehee Kang x dizzy Reader

! Characters and Fandoms I write for !

Keep in mind, I don’t write full blown smut. 

Platonic and romantic requests, both fine

The quality of each fic will be different, depending on how fixated I am on the character. I do this only as a side hobby every now and then. 

Angst and hurt requests are always first priority, those are the easiest for me to write!

-♥︎-That’s it, love yall! -♥︎-

[attendantdesign-blog]

New Post has been published on Attendantdesign

New Post has been published on http://attendantdesign.com/beauty-blogger-becomes-the-male-face-of-a-uk-loreal/

Beauty blogger becomes the MALE face of a UK L’Oreal

Beauty blogger becomes the MALE face of a UK L’Oreal

 Campaign after the ‘disgrace’ of buying a foundation to cover make-up his teen zits stimulated his hit guys’ make-upmakemakemakeup blogA Splendor blogger who turned to cowlmakeup his teenage pimples has emerged make up the new male face to front a L’Oreal marketing campaign.Jake-Jamie Ward, 25, has built make-up a successful YouTube empire way to his make-up tutorials aimed toward men, published under the call The Beauty Boy.L’Oreal have been so impressed via Jake’s efforts to make-up makeup gender stereotypes in the Beauty enterprise they decided to welcome him into the emblem’s circle of relatives.

He will now rub shoulders with Oscar winner Helen Mirren and former X Thing decides Cheryl.Jake became frustrated with the aid of the reality that cosmetics are particularly geared toward a lady market and hopes that his paintings with L’Oreal will assist change this. He said: ‘I truly remember standing inside the make-makeup aisle at Boots, being surrounded via commercials offering simplest women and initially this made me sense incorrect and ashamed of myself for even enjoyable the idea of the use of cosmetics to enhance my personal. ‘I very quickly I realized that I wasn’t alone and that I wanted and needed to make a trade to the industry.’

Selling the Infallible Overall cover variety Jake will feature on campaign posters in Smakeuperdrug and Boots stores nationwide as well as starring in the ‘Hero’ video ad alongside side former X Element winner Louisa Johnson.

Having released a viral marketing campaign #MakemakeupIsGenderless Jake is ultimately visible his effort tonormaliseguys’scosmeticsrecognisedin the national campaign.His efforts have received endorsements from TOWIE’s Georgia Kousoulou and international well-known make-make makeup artist Charlotte Tilbury.Many male stars not limit their use of cosmetics to when they’re on a degree or on set.

Lots of make-up guys want to dab on concealer or enhance their eyes with a bit ‘man-liner’ in ordinary lifestyles too.Actor Johnny Depp is not any stranger to an edgy appearance, eschewing the purple carpet pass-to maximum different A-list actors – black tie – in favor of leather-based, hats, a ponytail, and copious quantities of jewelry. That extends to his face too – he is frequently noticed sporting eyeliner to rival that of his maximum well-known person, Captain Jack Sparrow.Musician and actor Adam Lambert, and Fall Out Boy’s Pete Wentz each favor goth aesthetic that includes liberal amounts of the eye.

    .

Speaking of his campaign Jake said: ‘365 days ago I set out on is and always can be genderless.’I devoted every spare 2nd I had

  Attention within the wish that at some point destiny generations should grow make-up freely in a world wherein make-

judgement

.’

Jake have become annoyed through the truth that cosmetics are particularly aimed

toward

a lady marketplace and hopes that his paintings with L’Oreal will assist alternate this.

He maintains: ‘The make-up marketplace become so predominantly aimed toward ladies… men feel excluded from the exhilaration, amusing,

  went shopping for a basis that’s while he first clocked the gendered advertising.

He explained: ‘I started having terrible zits breakouts, it knocked

my self-assuranceso badly that there have been days after I didn’t even want to leave the house.

‘So someday inside the

desire

I may want to repair my confidence I concept ‘sod it’ I’m going to attempt make-up.’

He has due to the fact that won a loyal following of sixteen,000 subscribers on his YouTube channel wherein he offers guidelines.

Jake is eager to inspire other young guys to approach the Beauty bench and now not to be deterred by means of stereotypes.

  The way to Spot an Excellent Beauty Blogger or Vlogger

Indeed, using any one of the various excellent Splendor pointers and makeup tutorials online is a lot extra reasonable, and it’s far relatively easy to find a person whose advice which you like and who posts strategies and product reviews that are applicable to you.

But, not all bloggers and vloggers are identical, and you need to be privy to a few matters earlier than you decide to follow someone. Here are a few things to watch out for as well as some signs of a superb Splendor blogger that mean that you can trust their recommendation when they suggest products and techniques to you.

The first aspect to bear in mind is that many Beauty bloggers and vloggers will be sponsored with the aid of certain agencies to provide critiques of their items or sell them. a few bloggers are happy to do that, while others determine that they would select now not to be subsidized and as an alternative be loose to study the items that they please.

Even though it is understandable that many Splendor vloggers and bloggers do choose to review certain objects, be conscious that there may be an honest and a dishonest way to try this. A sincere blogger will point out if certainly one of their posts is backed, and will inform you in the event that they had been sent an item totally free earlier than reviewing it – this means they’re not hiding the fact that their statistics can be promotional.

In addition to this, appearance out for bloggers who are not afraid to say in the event that they dislike a product as opposed to simply announcing fine matters approximately it. No item is entirely perfect, and the signal of an honest blogger is that they’re not afraid to explicit all in their varying evaluations on unique items. Therefore, search for a person who is open about sponsorship and honest in reviewing distinct merchandise.

Another sign that the blogger sharing outstanding Splendor tips and makeup tutorials on-line is a good and dependable one is that he or she has some experience in handling makeup and Beauty products earlier than in their process or career. They may, alternatively, be a self-taught man or woman with many years of makeup as a hobby in the back of them.

Either way, search for a person who appears to recognize what they may be speaking approximately for the excellent hints and the first-rate effects. a few Splendor bloggers formerly labored on Beauty counters or are skilled in Splendor therapy, whereas others have completed gown make-up for local theater productions or currently work as for making up artists.

Although it is honest to say that, sure, all and sundry can grow to be a blogger or vlogger and deliver great Splendor tips and makeup tutorials online, a few level of information can provide you with a number of self-assurance in what you’re being taught.

Eventually, search for bloggers and vloggers who ensure that they use properly lighting fixtures in their photographs and movies while they are sharing their recommendations. lights have to be able to appropriately portray the colors and products being used so that viewers or readers understand precisely how this merchandise will appearance if and once they purchase and use them themselves.

You need to also look for bloggers and vloggers who do now not ‘cheat’ an excessive amount of with airbrushed or applying filters to their motion pictures and snapshots. This may distort the impact which you are seeing and deceive you into buying products that are not that remarkable – look as a substitute for someone who has right, honest advice to give and has not anything to hide.

Natascha Cox is a famous fashion and splendor blogger primarily based in London in the Uk, with a huge social media following on Twitter, Instagram, Bloglovin’, Fb and plenty of extra. Delivering her clean tackle modern style, beauty and tour, Natascha updates her blog often with hints, tricks, product reviews, tutorials, journey blogs, promotional offers for readers and an insider’s look at a number of the biggest style occasions around the sector. Readers who sign up at Natascha Cox’s blog will benefit from all of the ultra-modern information and developments directly to their inbox, along side the risk to win a completely loose present for every new subscriber.