#im trying to rack my brain for more im sorry its empty in here

[bonesblackheadrotten]

i like finding tobias (or whatever they call it) cause so far it’s just giving me further proof of how good sylus is to mc

[satoruvt]

the color of you - green (3)

i feel like in terms of the patterns im tryna leave this chapter wasnt that good but its ok i like it anyways and i hope u do too

pairing → keigo takami x bakery owner!reader

word count → 2072

summary → you’re not really dating, so you can’t really be in love with him… right?

song inspo → xo by eden

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

The grass is so bright.

You don’t know why it looks particularly vibrant today - maybe it’s the sun. It dots the grass under the trees in unusual polygons, the rays lighting up the green in their early-summer light. Your eyes trace the landscape, starting at the ground before moving up. Brown bark of a tree, then the token green of summer again, and finally blue sky. It’s a good day for a walk. 

Keigo squeezes your hand gently and you’re moved back to real-time, no longer focused on the colors of the world.

You’re still surprised this is so easy - of all of the things you thought this relationship would be, easy wasn’t one of the words that came to mind. But it is, Keigo makes it easy, somehow. The first few days, you went home every night from hanging out, going on “dates” just to scream into your pillow that it was you with pro-hero Hawks - albeit fake, it was you.

And his publicist was right about you gaining business - the bakery was flourishing more than ever before, supportive fans coming to try their beloved hero’s girlfriend’s pastries. The money you were getting as a positive consequence was enough for you to actually have money leftover after groceries and bills, not to mention the few employees you had were getting paid what they deserved.

“Hey, stop spacing out,” Keigo says, stopping in the pathway. When you turn to him with a raised eyebrow, he’s pouting playfully. “You’re supposed to be focused on me.”

“Oh, right, of course,” you keen, placing a hand over your heart. “I’m so sorry, my love! Forgive my incompetence…”

He grins. “All is forgiven if you agree to sit with me under the mighty oak tree over yonder.”

His medieval speak makes you cringe (though you’re sure yours isn’t any better) but you let him lead you to the tree he had in mind. He sits down at its base, under the shade of its leaves, and you follow. You lay so your head is on his lap, resting on your back.

It’s not a designated date today - Keigo had a day off (a “day off”) and called to see if you had one as well. You didn’t have to be to the bakery until later into the afternoon, so you figured it couldn’t hurt to spend some time with him (after all, he is your boyfriend now).

He’s talking about Endeavor, how the two of them are best friends, but the Number One hero just doesn’t know it yet. You’re not really focusing on his words, because it’s hitting you hard that he’s fucking pretty. It’s not like you hadn’t noticed it before - you were (are?) a fan, you noticed that he was attractive, but Lord, if it doesn’t show in the sunlight right now. With his perfectly-unruly hair, light and intelligent eyes -

“Oh!” Keigo says, looking down at you. “I just remembered. We should take some pictures.”

It takes you a moment to recover. “Uh - for what?”

“Social media.” He pulls out his phone from his pocket, and you sit up from his lap. You’re sure the two of you look pathetic, taking selfies in the middle of a park, but then again, what’s the harm?

Keigo taps on the photo app, turns his phone sideways, and you brush down your hair that’s sticking in a million different directions once you see yourself in the frame. It doesn’t take long - Keigo sends you an impatient look anyways and you tell him to shut up - and you scoot behind him, resting your head on his shoulder cutely.

That’s the first photo, gentle smiles and green grass. The second one involves you kissing his cheek, and the third one something stupid with both of you sticking your tongues out at the camera. Once he sends them to you, you save them to your phone before putting it back into your pocket.

They’re cute pictures, and for a moment it almost seems like the whole thing is real.

-

The grass is soothing against your skin, but eventually it’s time for you to get back to the bakery.

The walk back to the main entrance of the park is softer from when the two of you came in, conversation more serious than playful (not to say that Keigo doesn’t tease you when the opportunity arises, because he does).

“Are there any big events coming up?” You ask him, swinging your intertwined hands between the two of you. “Like, that we have to go to?”

“Yeah, there’s a hero awards ceremony,” Keigo says, then grimaces slightly.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at an awards ceremony before. Or any hero meetings, aside from maybe two.”

“That’s because they suck and take too much energy.”

“Then why are we going to this one? Isn’t it weird for you to suddenly go now?”

“That’s a good question,” Keigo says, and you noticed you’ve reached the front gate. “I’ve got no fucking clue.”

The chuckle that escapes your lips is genuine, and your hand leaves his with a gentle, “I’ll see you later, Kei,” but he pulls you back suddenly. You’re closer than before, and you furrow your brows at him.

“What -”

“There’s some paparazzi behind you,” Keigo says.

Oh.

“I’m gonna kiss you, okay?”

Oh.

You nod, still reeling from when he pulled you to him, and he leans forward. But wait, why is your heart beating so fast -

Keigo’s lips meet yours in a soft kiss, something only meant to convey feeling to the outside world. It’s innocent, an “I-love-you” kiss, and it takes you half a second to reciprocate. But you do, smiling onto his lips - let’s give ‘em a show, you think to yourself - and he places a hand on your cheek. You cover it with your own, and when he pulls away you lean into his palm on instinct.

“Not gonna lie, hero,” you breathe, “you’re really good at that.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” Keigo grins, obviously smug, but you snort.

“Whore.”

“Hey!”

With a laugh, you walk out of the main gate, to the subway station. You can’t help but reminisce about the feeling of Keigo’s lips as you do.

-

The bakery’s having a slow day by the time you walk in, the inside seats only occupied by a few people. The chatter is quiet, barely there, and it reminds you of mid-spring days, sitting outside with friends to catch up. You head back to the kitchen with a greeting to each of your employees, but you barely get started on some cookie dough when you’re called out to the front of the restaurant.

“Y/N, there’s a delivery person here for you,” one of your employees says, and you sigh, thinking about what to do, given that your hands are covered in flour.

“Can you handle it? It’s probably just this week’s dairy,” you respond, working the dough through your fingers. Your employee shakes his head, and he’s got a small smile on his face.

“It’s not that,” he says. “The guy’s got flowers.”

What?

You furrow your brows - “tell him to wait for a minute” - before washing your hands off, wiping the excess water on your apron. When you walk out to the cash register, sure enough, there’s a man waiting with a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

“Are you Y/N?” He asks when you get close enough, and you nod. “From Hawks.”

You take the bouquet in your hands and you hear a camera snap as you do. When you turn your head to the noise, none of the customers in the bakery show any signs of it being them, but you’re sure it’s one of Keigo’s fans who heard his name. The delivery guy walks out of the bakery and you roll your eyes, laughing to yourself. There’s a tag tied around the stems and you pull on it to read it.

Couldn’t help but notice how you looked at the flowers earlier, so I got you some of your own. If I don’t see them on the counter the next time I’m at the bakery, we’re gonna have some problems.

The note is signed with a loopy scribble of Keigo’s name, and then a heart. It makes you smile and you take out your phone to send a picture of the tag to him, along with a message that reads “received loud and clear.” He responds quickly; “good, they better be in the best vase you can find.”

-

“Why are my flowers in a pot?”

You look up from wiping down the counter, brain thoughtlessly telling you to tell whoever it is at the door that the bakery’s closed, but you’re met with a familiar pair of red wings and golden eyes.

You tuck the damp rag into a pocket in your apron, shrugging as Keigo walks closer to the counter. “It’s a bakery, that’s the best vase I can find,” you say, then pout, “besides, it’s rustic, leave it alone.”

He laughs, and you motion for him to follow you back to the kitchen. “So, what brings you here?”

“My flowers.”

You feign offense, draping the back of your hand over your forehead. “Really? Only the flowers? Not to see little old me, your very own girlfriend?”

Keigo hums, dipping his finger into a mostly-empty tub of icing to taste it. “Mm, I take it back. Not the flowers. It was for this kick-ass icing.”

“You like it?” You ask, and he nods, going in for another finger-ful. “You should try the donuts I just made.”

“Holy shit, can I?”

You giggle at his eagerness, then pull out two donuts from the cooling rack nearby. You hand one to Keigo - a classic glazed - before taking your personal favorite off the rack and taking a bite yourself. When Keigo sees you do it, he does too, and you’re immediately overwhelmed in compliments.

“Jesus, Y/N, I think I’m calling it,” he says, mouth full of pastry. “I’m completely in love with you. How the hell did you get this good?”

You feel the flush in your cheeks before it shows, and you shrug, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly. “I’ve just always had a thing for baking, I guess,” you murmur, placing your half-eaten donut on the counter as you lean against it. “That’s how I got this whole place started.”

Keigo looks at you funny and you realize you haven’t told him too much about your career, so you keep talking. “I started the bakery, like, right out of high school. I already knew that I wanted to bake my whole life, so I never thought about using my quirk to become a hero or going to college or any of that stuff.”

He nods, finishing off his donut in another few bites. The silence is weird, not being filled, and it feels good to talk to him about this, so you keep going, playing with the hem of your apron out of habit. “I know my parents are super proud of me for starting my own business so young, but… I did it so fast, and I worry that they think I’m gonna do everything at that same speed. It just puts a lot of pressure on me, you know?”

When you look at Keigo again, he’s got a certain look in his eyes, and you don’t know what it is. You realize that he probably didn’t want to hear about all of your fears with having your own business and panic flushes through your veins at the sudden thought.

“Oh, sorry, you probably didn’t wanna hear about all that,” you rush out, and Keigo’s quick to respond.

“No, it’s just…” he pauses, tapping his fingers on the counter once, twice. “You just summed up my entire career.”

It’s your turn to look at him funny, and it’s his turn to tell you his sob story. “I was chosen to be a hero when I was, like, ten or eleven or something, and I started my own agency when I was eighteen. I like being known as the hero with speed, as someone who can get shit done, but… it’s a lot, sometimes.”

He meets your eyes, and you’re very aware of the new understanding the two of you share. There’s something different in the way he looks at you, now.

And it’s good.

[marvxlousqueen]

Warren Worthington- Amnesia

word count: 2.5 K!! (longest thing i’ve written lately!)

warnings: cussing, gets a little angsty boys!!

A/N: this idea came to me when i was bopping to my tb playlist and amnesia by 5sos came on so yeah get ready bc this gets angsty !!! 

also yes its a roger gif bc warren has zero fucking screen time and im out of gifs

(Y/n)’s eyes were glued to his face, watching his lips part as if to make sure he continued to breathe as normal. Warren had taken a hard fall on their last rescue mission. This was his second day of being unconscious, but Hank assured (Y/n) that he would be up in no time, claiming Warren showed regular brain function.

(Y/n)’s brain was racked with thoughts about what would happen when he woke up. Their last conversation before the mission was, in a word, deep. The pair had stayed up until the late hours of the night, not even caring about the exhaustion they’d feel in the morning. That was the night Warren had finally been brave enough to make a move, sharing his feelings with (Y/n). They had spent a few hours fooling around, and then talked until the sun rose. 

(Y/n) felt nervous to see him once he woke up. 

Oh come on, (Y/n), let’s not think like this, she thought to herself. Remember what he said before he fell?

It wasn’t anything the team hadn’t done before. Flying out, saving civilians, bringing them back home. This time happened to be news helicopter that was going down over the Atlantic. It should’ve been easy in, easy out. Jean was slowing the rotors so that Kurt could bamf Peter and Warren into the helicopter to grab the civilians. As they were going through standard procedure, a plane flew by above the helicopter scene, causing a strong wind and noise that threw Jean off. She lost her connection with the rotors, making the helicopter drop. 

Kurt grabbed Peter and Warren to bamf everyone out, but on the exit, Warren’s wings were struck by the spinning rotors. He was pushed out of the copter, his wings failing him. As he fell towards the ocean, a scream ripped out from his throat. Not “help!”, not “save me!”, not even “AHH!” The only words he could think to form was, “(Y/n)!” 

The rest of the team were too preoccupied trying to get Kurt and Peter in with the civilians to grab Warren. He hit the water, causing a head injury that knocked him unconscious. 

(Y/n)’s brain snapped out of her memories.

He was thinking about me during his fall, he wasn’t joking when he said he loved me. 

“Hey, (Y/n). You alright?” 

Looking away from him, she saw Hank standing in the doorway. 

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just want to be here when he wakes up.”

Hank nodded, walking towards his cart with Warren’s graph information. 

“Should be up any minute. He’s showing more brain activity than he was yesterday so he’s probably starting to wake up. Just give him some more time.”

(Y/n) nodded, turning back to the bed, watching over Warren. 

An hour had passed since Hank had stopped by. (Y/n)’s eyes were glazed over as she stared at the monitor, holding his hand tight and praying he’d wake up soon. 

Her eyes widened as she heard stirring from the bed. Looking down she saw Warren’s eyes fluttering open, then squinting in response to the harsh lighting. 

“W-,” he cleared his throat, “Where am I? What happened?”

(Y/n)’s lips pulled into a smile, “Warren! You’re up! Everything’s okay, just took a bad fall a few days ago, but everything’s okay.” 

“Fall? What-”

Warren was interrupted as Hank entered the room, followed by Jean, Jubilee, and Ororo. 

“Warren! You’re up!”

Hank rushed to the monitor, checking his vitals, while the girls stood behind (Y/n), anxious to hear how their teammate was.

“Where’s everyone else?” (Y/n) asked.

Ororo piped up from behind Jean, “Training with Raven, but they’ll stop by after.”

Jubilee pushed to the front next to (Y/n), “Gave us quite a scare there, bird boy. Glad to see you up.”

Warren’s eyebrows were furrowed, “Bird boy? Who is that?”

Jubilee laughed, “That’s you, dummy.”

Warren clenched his jaw out of frustration, “Who are all of you?”

Hank stepped away from his monitor, “What did you ask?” 

Warren looked towards him before scanning the girl still grasping his hand, “Who are you? All of you.”

“Can you tell me your name?”

Hank’s face was wrinkled with concern, awaiting Warren’s answer. 

He raised his hand that wasn’t held by (Y/n) and point towards Jubilee, “Bird boy?”

“You don’t remember who you are?”

Warren’s was struck with confusion again, “No? No, I- I don’t.”

(Y/n) felt her stomach drop, her eyes burning, “Warren? You- you don’t remember me?” 

He looked at her, noticing her misty eyes, “No, I’m- I’m really sorry. You seem nice.”

Jean snapped her head towards Hank, “Now what?” 

He was tapping his fingers against the frames of his glasses, thinking about this situation. “It seems like a minor case of amnesia, should be back to his normal self in a few days.”

(Y/n) could hear her heartbeat in her ears as her thoughts ran wild.

What if it isn’t minor amnesia? What if he never remembers me? Or never remembers himself? What if-

“(Y/n).”

Her head snapped towards Hank, “huh?”

“How about you go get some rest? You’ve been sitting in here for days, go rest.”

(Y/n) nodded, wobbling out of her chair. Before she left the room she took one last glance at Warren, sad that when he looked at her there was an emptiness in his eyes. He didn’t know her.

Jean waited until (Y/n) left the room to interrogate Warren, “You really don’t remember who you are? Or who she is?”

Warren’s mouth open and closed, “No, I-I’m sorry. Who is she?”

“Your girlfriend, dipshit!”

Hank interrupted Jean, “Hey now! Don’t be mad at him for having amnesia, it’s all our fault for letting the mission go sideways.”

Warren blinked, “Girlfriend? Her?”

Jubilee sat down in the now empty chair to answer, “Not official or anything, but you did ask her out and make out and stuff so yeah.” 

Warren looked down at his feet out in front of him, “How could I not remember a girl like that? She looked so sad..” 

Hank piped up again, “It’s not your fault, just give it some time. It’ll all come back.”

Warren nodded, his brain was busy wandering somewhere else. “What’s her name?”

Jubilee laughed, “(Y/n).”

He nodded once more, eyes starting to droop again.

Hank took note and ushered the other students away, “Give him room to rest. And please keep (Y/n) occupied, don’t need her going down a sad path because of this.”

It was a little too late to avoid the sadness road for (Y/n). She had grabbed lunch on the way from the infirmary to her dorm room. She realized it was the first real meal she had eaten the past two days. (Y/n) scarfed down her sandwich and headed back to her room, pulling the blankets over her. She felt gross and desperately wanted to take a shower, but just didn’t have the energy. Instead she felt herself start to drift off, eyes squeezed tight as if she could make everything and everyone disappear. 

Warren visited her in her dreams, a recollection of memories from their last night together. His red cheeks when he confessed his feelings, his warm hands roaming her skin, his soft lips pressed against hers. And suddenly everything turned black and cold like the life of her memory had been sucked out. Warren turned to her, “Who are you?”

(Y/n) woke up in a sweat, breathing hard. She decided she needed to take a shower and clear her head. 

After a 30 minute shower and a few tears shed, she went for a walk around the school to get her mind off Warren. Passing by the cafeteria she bumped into Scott and Peter, who probably just finished eating dinner. 

“(Y/n)...hey.”

“Hey.”

Peter wrapped his arms around her in a tight squeeze, “It’ll be fine.”

(Y/n) shrugged him off, continuing to put on a brave face, “I know. I’m fine, guys, seriously.”

Scott gave her arm a pat, “Hank said it should just take a few days.”

(Y/n) nodded, wanting to escape the conversation of Warren. She took the beat of silence that followed as her moment to leave, so she did. Walking outside, she ran into Kurt. 

“(Y/n)! Are you okay?”

She sighed, “I’m fine!”

(Y/n) pushed past Kurt and speed walked towards the pond. 

How am I supposed to get my mind off of him if no one SHUTS UP ABOUT IT?

(Y/n) sat down by the pond, eyes focused on the water. 

“Hey. (Y/n), right?”

“Oh for the LOVE OF GOD, I’M FINE!”

Her head whipped around to see Warren standing on the grass behind her, “Oh, I-I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

“No, you’re good. I’m glad you’re okay.”

Warren took a seat next to her, his wing brushing against her shoulder. 

“I’m really sorry. I know you’re upset, but I am trying to remember. I want to remember you, so badly.”

(Y/n)’s eyes began to burn, “It’s okay.”

Warren nodded, “Well that guy in the clinic said it should just be a few days.”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, “I know, it’s just- never mind.”

“No, tell me.”

She shook her head, eyes on the water again. 

“Come on, I’m your boyfriend, right? Tell me.”

(Y/n) could feel her heart sting, having been reminded that someone she loves so much doesn’t remember her.

“You’re not my boyfriend.”

“Well that girl said it wasn’t ‘official’ but still-”

“No, you’re not Warren. You don’t even know who I am.”

Warren opened his mouth, closing it realizing he didn’t know what to say.

(Y/n) looked towards him, her heart hurting once more. He was clearly frustrated with himself for not remembering anything and she wasn’t making it any easier for him. 

“I’m sorry. You are Warren, just not my Warren. Fuck- you’re you and that’s good? Sorry-”

“Listen, I may not know who you are yet, but I care about you because.. well I don’t know why, but you obviously mean a lot to me and I want to hear what you have to say.”

God, she thought, how can he be so charming with amnesia? 

“I love you.”

Warren’s eyes widened, “I- uh, okay.”

“Fuck- sorry that probably sounds really weird, but I’ve said it to you before and- and I don’t know it just slipped out.”

He nodded, biting his lip, “Did I say it back?”

“Yeah. We’re in- I mean, we were in love.”

“We still are, then.”

“What if you don’t love me when you remember me? Like- I don’t know. What if these few days not having feelings for me makes you not have feelings for me ever again? That’s- that’s what I wanted to say earlier.”

Warren let out a sigh, “(Y/n). I do have feelings for you. If I’ve said ‘I love you’ before then that’s not going to just go away because of some fucking memory loss.”

“But-”

“No buts!”

(Y/n) shook her head, “Fine.”

Warren nodded, “Okay, well- give me a few days. And I swear I’m trying to remember.”

A few days had passed. Actually, over a week had passed. Nothing.

Warren couldn’t remember anything. He kept trying to spend time with his supposed “friends” and “girlfriend” to trigger his memories, but nothing was coming back.”

It was now 4:00 in the afternoon. Warren had been sitting in Hank’s office for the last hour getting test after test run on his brain. 

“What the fuck, Hank? You said a few days! It’s been almost two weeks!”

Hank’s head snapped up from his laptop, “Hey! Not my fault! Amnesia is tricky, it’s just takes time.”

“You said a few days and it’s taking forever. (Y/n) hates me.” 

“What? Why?”

“Because,” Warren slammed his hands onto Hank’s desk, “every time she looks at me, she sees the boy she loves, but I don’t remember it! And it just keeps getting worse!”

“What’s getting worse?”

“Our situation!”

“How? Is your memory getting worse?”

“What? No! I like her, Hank! I realize why I fell in love with her. She’s- she’s everything. The more I see her, the deeper I fall and she can’t even talk to me without getting sad because I’m not the real me. I’m hurting her and I don’t know what to do so please! Fix my brain!” 

“It’s not that easy, there’s nothing I can do.”

“Hank-”

“Warren! Just talk to her about this. I’m sure it would make her happy to see that even without all your memories of her, you still love her.”

Warren took Hank’s advice and set off to find (Y/n). She was eating dinner by herself as she often did since his fall, her head buried in a book.

Warren nervously tapped her on the shoulder, “H-hey.”

(Y/n) looked up at him, dark circles around her eyes showing from lack of sleep, “Hey?”

“Can I talk to you? Outside?”

(Y/n) nodded, standing up and following him out to the yard.

“What’s up?”

“I love you.”

(Y/n)’s breathe was caught in her throat. She coughed loudly, “You- you what?”

“I’m in love with you.”

“You don’t remember me.”

“Yes I do! I’ve known you for almost two weeks-”

“Two weeks!”

“And it only took two weeks for me to realize why I must’ve fallen in love with you in the first place! (Y/n), you’re perfect! Please, I- I know I’m not the Warren you fell in love with, but I will be that guy again soon, I know it.”

(Y/n) grabbed his face, pulling his lips to hers. 

It was as if a firework went off inside of Warren’s stomach, being able to kiss the girl he loves. Then, he felt another firework going off inside his head. His mind was racing as different images came to him. Everything from tipping over his and (Y/n)’s canoe in the pond to the time Scott threw up on Jean at (Y/n)’s last birthday party. Warren also saw himself fall, the helicopter above him, the ocean getting closer until he smacked into the water. He broke off the kiss. 

“(Y/n)!”

Warren wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her tight.

“What? Ow!”

He picked her up and spun her around, “I REMEMBER YOU! I LOVE YOU!”

“Put me down! Put me down!”

Warren placed her down on her feet, “I remember you!”

“You remember me!!!”

“Yes!! One time Scott threw up at your birthday party! The first Saturday of every month is your girls night with Jubilee, Jean, and Ororo! One time your top came off in the pond after I tipped our canoe and you flashed me! One time-”

(Y/n) cut him off by slamming her lips against his again. She pulled away, “I missed you so much, Warren.”

“I missed you more.”

Warren squeezed her tight once more, “I can’t believe I fell in love with you all over again.”

(Y/n) laughed, eyes misty from emotion, “I know.”

“We’re really meant to be, god I love you!”

He held her closer than he ever did before, so she’d never slip away.

taglist: @chocolatealmondmilkshake @thoughtlesspace @billyhargovesgurl @babebenhardy @rexorangecouny @cyndagoaway @killcomet @mcrmarvelloki @queen-turtle-boiii @hardlylo @ziggymay @jacqueline1916 @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ixchel-9275 @radiob-l-a-hblah

hmu to be added to my taglist!

[laurens-lil-fics]

hi again it’s me! so i was wondering if you could please do a fanfic on a modern au where firefighter!peter quill gets some burn marks on his chest and his stomach and almost all over his body, and the reader is a beautiful (yet very sexy) nurse, who heals peter up, and falls in love with him?

Heckie yes!

Stay with me. Stay with me.

That was the first thing Peter heard that voice say. He could hear the desperation in her voice, maybe it’s what set her words apart from the others. The raw emotion.

This was an off day for Peter, 10 years as a firefighter you think he’d be prepared for just about anything. And yet here he was, blinking in and out of consciousness in the hospital.

How did he know it was a hospital? For starters those ugly fluorescent lights. He saw them in his nightmares, when he’d dream of his mother. The blinding white walls were another tip. Lastly were the dozens of voices surrounding him, making him feel claustrophobic.

He was caged like an animal, a wounded animal. Then he heard her voice again.

You need to steady your breathing. Breathe with me. In and out… Just like that.

The oxygen mask pressed to his face made him panic, just for a moment, then he focused on her voice once more.

In and out… Shhhh…

The burning on his chest ripped him out of his haze, thrusting him back into the real world. He screamed into the oxygen mask, the ringing in his ears drowning out her voice.

His eyes, wild and panic stricken, bounced around the room, looking at the people and the machines surrounding him. He just barely made out someone shouting about morphine.

Movement at the corner of his eye caught his attention. His head whipped in that direction as the stranger took a needle to his IV.

The woman standing over him set the empty needle aside and looked down at him. Her hair was pulled out of her face, there was sweat on her brow and heavy bags under her eyes.

She was the most beautiful thing he had ever scene.

Another blast of pain had him surging forward. She pressed her hands to his shoulders and forced him to lay back with all her might.

Peter swore those ugly as fuck fluorescent lights formed a halo around her head, maybe it was the morphine.

You’ll be okay… You’re gonna be okay.

He breathed hard and watched her hover above him for a moment longer until his body began to relax. His eyes slowly fluttered shut and he drifted off into a long, dreamless sleep.

Why do breezes sigh every evening… whispering your name as they do…

And why have I the feeling, stars are on my ceiling… I know why and so do you…

It wasn’t the aches in his body or the natural sunlight streaming into his room that woke him up. It was that voice bringing him back to reality.

Peter slowly opened his eyes, wincing at just how bright the daylight was despite the rain clouds forming outside. He looked around the room, familiarizing himself with the space.

Even though he knew she would be there he still froze in place when he saw the woman from the night he was brought in.

She looked a lot more put together this time. She looked like she had gotten some rest since their last encounter. The woman was completely focused on her clipboard and her singing, she didn’t notice Peter was awake until he attempted to sit up in his bed.

“When you dance with me, I’m in heaven when the music- Oh my gosh. Don’t do that.” She set her clipboard on his bedside table and moved to his side as quick as a flash. She rested her hand on his shoulder and gently laid him back onto the bed.

“You need to take it slow,” she said, pulling the remote for the bed from its velcro strap on the wall and showing it to him. “This button will help you sit up… You have severe burns on your torso. You can’t put strain on yourself.”

Peter pressed onto the small arrow button, wincing as the bed began to adjust to his control. Before he could even thank her she left the room, mumbling something about getting him some food.

He sat there for a couple minutes, blankly staring at the tv mounted on the wall. It was playing one of those cook off shows. He usually hated them, but he assumed the nurse had put it on and decided to sit through the yelling and the over the top panic.

She stepped back into the room, setting a tray of food down on the table above his lap.

“I read on your medical records you have no food allergies, so this should be fine… unless you’re on one of those weird gluten free diets…” she trailed off, moving the tray closer to him.

Peter chuckled softly, wincing when he felt his chest ache from the quick movement. He took a sip of the ice water she brought him and sighed happily.

He looked up at her, not really knowing what to say as she began unboxing his meal. Of course his mouth always ran a mile a minute out of his control.

“I’m not like… Like all Freddy Krueger-y am I…?” he asked, motioning to his face.

I’m a fucking idiot.

The nurse laughed and glanced at him, giving him a onceover as she shook her head. “Never heard that term for severe 3rd degree burns before… but no, you’re not all Freddy Krueger-y. Your chest is a little worse for wear… but with some time and a lot of pain meds and aloe vera it’ll be fine.”

She retrieved her clipboard from the other side of his bed and pointed at one of the many buttons on the bed’s remote. “My name’s (Y/n), if you need anything just press this button. I’ll be right back to check on you once you’re done eating.”

Peter looked her over as she left the room, smiling to himself once she was gone.

Once he was done ripping into his food he could feel himself beginning to doze off. He growled to himself and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, hoping to keep himself awake until (Y/n) got back.

He hadn’t realized he dozed off until the sound of little white sneakers on the linoleum floors stirred him.

(Y/n) stood over him, getting the tray together as quietly as she could. She stopped once she realized her patient had woken up and gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up, Mr. Quill.”

“You don’t have to apologize… and you can call me Peter….” he said, feeling butterflies in his stomach when her smile brightened.

“Well, Peter, looks like that turkey has you ready for a nap.” she said, preoccupying herself with the messy tray he had left. “I’m a little surprised, not everyone finishes their food here. Can’t really blame them though, hospital food’s always a little rough.”

“Yeah… I used to visit my mom in the hospital a lot, so I pretty much lived off of it for a while.” he sighed, shifting under the covers only to wince and whine in pain from the burns on his chest.

(Y/n) quickly moved the table aside and stood over him, gently moving his hands away as he clutched his chest.

“Here, let me go ahead and change out these bandages…” she plucked a new roll of bandages from the cabinet on the other side of the room and returned to him. She carefully helped him sit up straight and untied the front of his hospital gown.

Peter heard the heart monitor quickening and screamed at himself to calm the hell down and let the woman do her job. But damn, the way her fingers brushed over his skin as she took off his bandages had him fighting back the burning in his cheeks.

The sight of the burns on his chest were enough to knock his head out of the clouds and send him back to reality. (Y/n) held up a small tube of ointment, warning him that it would probably sting.

After getting a dollop on her fingertips she began gingerly massaging the medicine onto his burns. Sure enough Peter grunted in pain and held his bottom lip between his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut while (Y/n) worked.

“It’s best to let it all out… How about you keep talking, that’ll take your mind off it.” she suggested.

Peter nodded, racking his brain for something, anything to talk about.

“W-Whenever I got sick of the hospital food… m-my grama would being me something…” he said through his gritted teeth, continuing their conversation from earlier. “I think my fav-fuck… my favorite were these grilled cheeses she’d make… she’d always bring em by wrapped in foil… with some tomato soup in tupperware…”

(Y/n) wiped what was left of the ointment onto a tissue and began wrapping Peter’s chest, giving him a small smile. “Sounds like someone’s getting hungry again.”

Peter couldn’t help but chuckle as he breathed through the fading pain. He breathed a sigh of relief once she finished and laid back into the bed.

“Those should heal up in the next week… Hopefully applying that ointment won’t be as painful, it only gets easier from here.” (Y/n) said, her fingers working on retying his hospital gown.

“I’m kind of a baby when it comes to pain, sorry if I’m a little difficult.”

“No, no, it’s alright.” She assured him, gently rubbing his shoulder. “Don’t be afraid to let me know if you’re in any pain. I’m here to take care of you.”

The corners of Peter’s lips quirked up into a small smile and he gave her a slight nod. He sighed happily and laid his head back, relaxing into the bed once she left the room.

The rest of the week was basically the same routine; Peter would wake up, (Y/n) would bring him his meals, change his bandages, then he’d go to sleep. But in between all that Peter tried his best to make small talk with her, get to know her more.

He dropped that sneaky “Oh your boyfriend must be so proud” line the third day in. He almost jumped out of bed when she corrected him, saying she wasn’t dating anyone.

With the burns on his chest already healing he knew he’d be out of the hospital soon. He wasn’t too distraught, he could try to get (Y/n)’s number. Hell, screw “try” he was gonna do it.

His last afternoon in the hospital finally rolled around. His check out was scheduled for 3, it was currently 11.

She’s gonna bring me my lunch, Im gonna ask her for her number, it’ll be fine…

The door to his room opening put the biggest smile on his face, but it dropped once he saw a different nurse walk into the room with his tray of food.

“Good morning, Mr. Quill. How are we feeling today?”

“I… I’m good, is (Y/n) not here today?” Peter asked, looking behind the nurse to see if (Y/n) had trailed in after her.

The nurse frowned and shook her head. “No, I’m afraid she caught the flu from one of her other patients. She won’t be coming in today.”

Peter felt his heart drop out of his chest and into his stomach, along with all hope of ever going on a date with (Y/n).

“But,” she continued, setting the tray down on his table. “She did bring this by a little earlier… I’ll be right back to check on you when you’re done.” She smiled, turning and leaving the room.

Peter eagerly sat up and pulled the table closer, unboxing the food. He smiled wide, realizing what she had sent for him.

A grilled cheese wrapped in foil, and a glass pyrex bowl of tomato soup. A small, folded slip of paper sat between the two and he quickly unfolded it.

I’m willing to make a house call once I get over the flu. Call me.

Sure enough, the seven digits of her phone number along with a small heart sat under her message.

[buckymcbuttfacebarnes]

Bashful Creatures (4)

masterlist

(yall imma be honest with u i dont know what the FUCK is going on with my tags sometimes they work sometimes they dont, im finna edit this so if u get tagged twice IM SO SORRY)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: abt 1.8k

Summary: Y/N feels herself beginning to fall in love with her best friend. This part picks up immediately after the incidents of part 3!

Warnings: at this point yall know the drill

A/N: (extended portions written in italics are memories!) love y’all thank u so much for the kind feedback! let me know what u think of this part!!! soz it took 85 yrs school and stuff got me all effed up! i think i might do pt 5 in buckys pov?? or just do both in one and like switch off idk??

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

The sound of the door slamming shut resonated through you, stunned you, but you didn’t try to stop him from leaving. He needed space to cool off. The least you could do was give that to him. The deafening silence settled into something uncomfortable and awkward, even though it was just you and it. You and the silence. It felt like wearing a shirt too tight for your body, an ill-fitting second skin that you couldn’t seem to peel off.

Your eyes flitted around your bedroom, the place where you had retreated immediately after the ordeal, fragments of Bucky were everywhere. In your bed, at your desk, in the silvery glow of the moon’s rays shining through your window... They seemed to haunt the room with his presence, making it impossible to do anything but focus on him. Nothing but the things you had said and the things he had said to you rung in your head. Over and over again. How could you have let the situation escalate so quickly? Why did it escalate so quickly?  

To escape his phantom presence, you wandered the empty compound, heart beating loudly in your ears as if you were still in the midst of yelling at the man you love so dearly, like you were still caught in the thick of it. Am I your friend or your fucking babysitter? Your fingers twitched and fiddled, wiping dismissively against the sides of your thighs or being shaken out as if wicking water off of them. You imagined his face in your head, the sad  tears that rolled down his cheeks. He let you hold him then. You should have kissed them away and soothed his troubles, assured him of your presence. I’ve come back to you. You should have just told him:  I love you, Bucky. God, how terribly you wanted him to tell you that he loved you too. It seemed so far-fetched, like some unattainable dream. Nothing more than whimsical fantasy because there was no way in hell someone as beautiful as Bucky might love you too. Someone so kind and cunning. Coy and charismatic. Someone so sweet...it seemed impossible that your infatuation could be made into something real. That this was more than some paltry story of love unrequited.

The empty spaces of the compound did nothing to help you escape him. You saw him everywhere you went.

As he swung you around you looked to him with the widest smile, your cheeks were beginning to ache.  You couldn’t suppress the laugh that bubbled from your lips, spilling out of you like a kettle boiling over.

“What? What?” he asked defensively, the grin on his face betraying his tone. “Hold on, we haven’t even gotten to the best part!”

It was just the two of you, alone in the compound, and you were embracing every moment of it.

“Quit laughin’ and  listen,” he shushed, tapping his ear with a forefinger before his hand returned to its place on the small of your back.

“I’m listening!”

“You aren’t if you’re ta—” You cut him off by placing a hand over his mouth. You ignored his warning look and slowly removed your hand, revealing his smiling mouth.

The music that blared from the speakers beside the TV  began to swell with the clear, bubbly blare of trumpets. It filled the sunlit room and mingled with the sounds of your uncontrollable giggles and his successive chuckles. It filled  you with an unimaginable warmth. Your heart began to pound faster, was it the music? Or was it Bucky? The way he was smiling, with all of his pearly whites showing, so wide that there were crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Maybe it was the loose strands of hair that framed his face, or the two aquamarine eyes that peered down at you, glittering like two of the most beautiful gemstones you had ever seen.

Perhaps it was the way his hands rested comfortably against your back. There was a time where he was weary about touching you at all. A time where he worried he might frighten you, or underestimate his strength. A time where he wouldn’t remove his glove, even though you’d seen the sparkling metal countless times on missions.  He thought it to be a threat. A  reminder of his dark past, some sort of defect that made him unloveable. How could he believe such a thing when you were standing there in front of him, hands clasped at the back of his neck, grinning up at him like a fool? How could he believe such a thing when the look of love shined in your eyes the way the metal of his left hand glinted in the hot sun? How could he believe such a thing when you loved him?

On a day that felt like yesterday, you had fallen in love with Bucky Barnes. In that moment it felt right, the warmth that spread through you, the way your fingertips seemed to grow hot, and you chewed unknowingly on your lower lip—a telltale sign of nerves. He didn’t seem to notice though, so you basked in the feeling, let it wash over you like the build of the beautiful music he had playing in the background. In that moment, there was no doubts. You confidently thought, This is love. And it was.  

And though after those few sweet moments you’d begun to doubt your feelings were there or that they were more than some immature thirst for romance, the fondness you harbored in your chest for him then remained there for a long time. Now it seemed to burn brighter than ever.

You continued your aimless trek through the compound, your bones felt heavy, your body sluggish. You made a stop in the kitchen to pour a glass of water. Your eyes flickered to the kitchen table that you had once sat at. Where Bucky had stood across from you and vulnerably asked, “Where were you last night?” He had told you he had been looking for you. An indirect way of saying that he had needed you and you weren’t there.

You knew that...yet you still stared into those suddenly child-like eyes and gave him gave him a painfully pathetic reply: “I was out. Had a hot date.”

It was hard not to cringe at the thought of the pitiful exchange. How the fuck was he to forgive you after something like that?

Your eyelids pressed shut, squeezing together in some attempt to force the memory from your brain. Heavy shudders of breath left your parted lips. Weary elbows came to rest upon the cold countertop, your head hung low in your hands. How did this happen? You asked silently. Tears sprung to your eyes and a sudden sob racked your body. You hadn’t expected to cry, but it washed over you in a forceful wave. It was turbulent and uncontrollable. You were glad he wasn’t here to see it. Partly because you feared he might cry again too, partly because it was possible that he may not care at all. How could I leave him all alone? You thought of the way his eyes glistened with tears. How his hands hesitantly came up to pull yours from his face. The way he had fled so urgently from your touch, as if your hands might cause him some physical harm. The thick lump that had formed in your throat choked you, you heaved heavy breaths between your violent sobs. You wept until your eyes formed no more tears, until your head throbbed, until you were completely exhausted.

With a glass of water in hand, you made your way to your room, mind blank. On the way, you abruptly stopped and turned around. You let your legs carry you without protest. They seemed to know where they were going.

You ended up at Bucky’s door. You didn’t know when he would come home, but you knew that when he did, you wanted to be with him. And so you entered. Heavy lidded eyes glanced around the room as the light flickered on. There was a bed, a plain bedside table, a desk, a desk chair. He was more for functionality than style, you had always known that. Upon his desk was a photo of himself and Steve. The surface of his bedside table was covered by a record player, the only special thing that he had ever really asked for. There were a couple plants here and there, courtesy of you. You had wanted to liven up the painfully minimalistic room just a little bit. You flicked the switch and the room went dark again. Curled up beneath his duvet, you inhaled deeply through your nose, exhaling loudly. It was all Bucky. You longed for him. For his gaze, for his touch, his laugh, his silky voice.  You withheld another sob. You needed him here.

When he got home you would tell him. You would tell him that you loved him, that you were sorry. You imagined his warm body slipping into bed beside you. He would hold you in his arms and maybe then you’d tell him. Or maybe he’d say he didn’t want to talk and instead you would fall asleep together. Bodies intertwined like unruly vines, breaths perfectly synchronized. He would sleep all night because he only slept well when you were there to keep him tethered to reality. You’re here, we’re together. It’s alright. You’ve come back to me.

You would wake to the soft crackling of a record on its turntable and the great crescendo of some euphonious song that he happened to know. He might get you to dance with him, as he often liked to do. Swing you around the room and send you smiles full of mischief. Or maybe he’d be lying beside you still asleep. The only music would be the sound of his gentle huffs of breath. You would look upon his softened features, dotingly stroke his cheek, then maybe blush in embarrassment at your sentimental behavior. You would ignore the bashful smile that would force itself upon your lips, ignoring your brain’s protests, and hope that things could be like this all the time. You would tell him so. You would tell him you loved him. You would say that you’re never going to leave. He would say he loved you too.

When you woke the next morning, you woke to an empty bed. Bucky had not come home that night.

@slender–spirit @katielu-blog @bookhoggerph @sergeant-james-bbarnes @killjoynotes @thirstresponsibly @cherrywinedarling @janeyboo @buckybarnesxoxo @depressed-fangirl​ @tchallaholla @rheasneonjournal @lilypalmer1987 @zeonxox @sarahp897 @sebspeach @kat-lives @graveyardfairy @fandom-obsessed-girl @painkiller80  @i-had-a-life-once @writingsleepless @starkxpotts @damagelove @buckybarnestrashh

i had to come back and fix the effing tags since they dont know how to act so if yall got tagged like 849 times it was my fault soz im a dumbass love yall!

message me if you’d like to be added to the taglist for this fic<3

[sagittariusboyfriend]

What have been some creepy encounters you've experienced? Story please?

ive waited quite some time to respond to this message, like literally a long ass time lol, probably more than a year, sorry. i feel like i have several encounters to tell you about, but what im going to relay to whomever might be reading this right now is a thing that went on over the course of an entire year.

quick backstory: during the better part of 2017 i lived with my then boyfriend (who now is just my best friend since we broke up in october this year) in the old parts of the city center. all buildings in that area are from around 1870, and the building where we lived is one of the first ones to have been erected. his aparment was on ground level and it has all the features of turn of the century housing with the fireplace, original floors, weird nooks and crannies etc, and looks as if it was meant to be lived in by service people/kitchen personnel. it also had its original door (i suppose) with the kind of springy locking mechanism where you have to turn the key and pull down the handle real hard simultaneously to open from the outside, the knob is very tough to turn from the inside, and it locks itself instantly once you close it (so if you forget your keys youre basically screwed). it makes a loud brassy springy clicking noise when the lock shuts or opens. takes a lot of effort to open this old door and its loud, is what im saying. the entire apartment is all original details, the flooring in the corridor has its original wood planks, original ventilation, weird but beautiful glass panels on the door etc.

the key and the door unlocking from inside

first off, when he moved in, the landlord was missing a key in the set of four. my then boyfriend, lets call him C, didnt really think about it. he moved in, gave his dad one of the extra keys. the first weird thing that happened was when C got back from work in the afternoon maybe two weeks after moving in. in the middle of the corridor, on the floor, he sees the missing key. like smack dab in the middle of the narrow corridor leading from hallway to the bathroom, next to his boots. its too far in to have been thrown in by someone through the letter slot in the door, and could not have been dropped there by neither him nor his father since they had all of their keys. so he’s like, weird, but doesnt really think about it. he also told me that around that time he heard coughing from the corridor when inside his bedroom (it opens up to the right from the corridor once you step inside the apartment), but also waved it off since it might as well have been neighbours just outside in the hall.

next weird thing that happens is after we had started dating and i pretty much lived there with him, and this time i experienced it. i started work around noon whereas C left around 6 in the morning. so im in bed and its maybe 10 o’clock, and i wake up to that loud, springy clicking noise of the locking mechanism in the door. and im like, what is he doing home at this time? so i get up, but no one is there. the door is also juuust a little bit askew, as if someone was going outside but then decided not to, like its just shoved open enough for the lock to click open, but the door isnt opened, its still within the width of the doorframe if you get what i mean. so i look outside and the hall is empty. i should have been able to hear steps in the very echo-y stairwell (which is also old and the acoustics are fantastic because we hear everytime a neighbour passes by, and subsequently opens the building entrance door which is also a loud, heavy door), but heard neither steps, up or down the stairs in the hall, nor anyone opening the heavy entrance door, or any evidence of human activity. all is quiet. i get a bit freaked out, because that means that unless someone else had a key, our door was unlocked from inside.

i tell C when he gets back, and after this is where shit starts to ACTUALLY go down.

im going to try to remember all of this in the correct order, but i know it started in january 2017, and went on until he moved out in december.

the song in the hallway

C talks a lot in his sleep. sometimes he even sings, he speaks in english (we’re swedish) and  he has been known to get up and take a shower at one in the morning while still asleep thinking hes late for work. for those who are on heavy sleeping medication, u get it. its not weird, mostly its funny, and its just because of the medication. these things go on literally every night and it was a bit hard to fall asleep to loud talking and incoherent words sometimes because he used to go to bed three-four hours earlier than me, but i managed just fine. one night we were in bed, it wasnt that late but C was asleep, i was on my phone next to him. i hear this weird melody being hummed, thinking its coming from C i take out my earplugs and check, but its coming from the fucking hallway. again, no one outside in the stairs, just someone or something humming a melody in the hallway. i remember my hair standing up all over my body and i was glad i slept closest to the wall, C shielding me from being viewed directly from the hallway. somehow i manage to fall asleep. and this part is going to sound weird and like its made up, im very aware, but having been through this crap i dont really care because i know it happened: the morning after C was off from work, and i for once woke up before he did. if i wake him up and his medication hasnt ‘wore off’ yet i guess (dont really know how that works) he’ll be disoriented and it takes a few minutes for his brain to register that hes awake and he can speak coherently. i did not poke him, i did not try to wake him up, but all of a sudden i hear him humming that same melody, very much deep asleep. that freaked me out.

the mimicking begins

another night around that time, i was up at around 2-3 am to go to the bathroom. i wiggle out of bed, out into the corridor, at the end of the corridor is the bathroom. when im done, i scurry back into the bedroom, information of value here i guess is i always sleep with my socks on so im wearing socks, aka i dont make a lot of noise when i get up. when im back in bed, looking at my phone, i hear footsteps - from the corridor. the freakiest thing is its like they are imitating the way i walked back from the bathroom, i can so CLEARLY hear sockless, BARE feet on the creaky floor of the hallway, literally stepping at the same pace i did. that was my first thought; someone is imitating my footsteps. i can hear them from behind the wall in the hallway, coming to a stop at the opening into the bedroom. like someone is standing there, watching. i get so scared i hide under the covers and press myself close to C and cant stop feeling icy shivers down my spine. i also cant stop thinking that someone or something waited for me in the kitchen, then walked behind me, mimicking me, and is now standing at the beedroom threshold, watching me. somehow i fall asleep, or i dont, i cant remember.at this point, im thinking somethings up with that hallway.

the poorly covered hole

this part isnt anything scary/supernatural really, just uncomfortable and kinda sets the tone for living in this apartment at the time: in the bedroom, C had placed a clothing rack next to the old 1900s floor-to-ceiling ventilation pipe that is plastered into the wall in the corner. literally just a wide ass pipe in the corner of the room that isnt in use anymore. behind the rack, leaning against the pipe, he had put a rarely used pink neon tube light and i decided it would look cool to try it out, but it was dusty in that little nook thing where it was so i had to clean it up a bit. while moving the clothing rack to vacuum, i realize there is a hole at least as big as my hand in the side of the pipe. i was like ??the frick is this? and i poke into it and there is just this thin paper membrane covering it. you could almost fit an entire head through there, and i can literally feel wafts of cold wind moving through it. there probably used to be an attached pipe of some sort to allow smoke from the kitchen to go up into the ventilation like a hundred years ago, but the thought that this at least 1 meter wide pipe, wide enough to fit a person, goes up through probably all apartments above us, up through the attic, ending as an open chimney in the roof, has this big hole in it is just… unsettling to me. obviously the pipe is not in use anymore, but that kind of only made it scarier. ive seen enough scary movies for that to make me feel a bit paranoid lol. i was almost expecting a hand to push through that paper when i touched it. but i covered it back up with the clothing rack and nothing really happened with that.

the mirror incident

one night, me and C were getting ready to go out. im getting ready in the hallway, because thats where the big wall-sized full figure mirrors are (of course). C comes out of the bathroom, runs past me infront of me, veering off to the left into the bedroom, wearing only underwear. i look after him in the mirror, i can see him in the bedroom, in front of his clothing rack. im fixing my hair at the time, both hands on my head. to my direct left is the front door and the space with our shoes and jackets. right in front of the door, for a split moment while im turning back to keep looking at myself in the mirror, i see what looks exactly like C but paler, wearing only underwear, standing in the same position as me, turned away from me as if the thing is also looking in a mirror. heads on its head like its fixing its hair, just like me. imitating me. i get shivers just typing this down. i tell C what i just saw, i literally went: ”uh C? i just saw a man infront of the door”, dumbfounded, and we both got a bit freaked out, and got out of there pretty quickly.

learning about demons

a few weeks later, C invites his friend to comes to visit. im not there at that time so i never met her, but she apparently had a knack for sensing ghosts and picking up on energies etc. he told me that when he got up to get them more wine from the kitchen and left her alone in the couch in the bedroom, she said she really felt very uncomfortable sitting with her back to the hallway corridor. she also told him that ghosts and spirits are usually not malevolent and you can get by fine living in a ‘haunted’ house. but when he told her what we had experienced so far, she told him that ghosts usually dont behave that way, and that a rule is that if something is imitating or mimicking you, its probably not a ghost, but might be signs of fucking DEMONIC ACTIVITY. apparently demons like to mock and impersonate people. friendly caspers dont do that. fun.

realizing the triangle/cursed ground

so, yeah. weird things kept happening. but we had jobs, sometimes you just gotta ignore that shit and try not to live your life terrified of demons. which we still were for the record; i dont think we ever left each other alone in that apartment for any longer than necessary after that, i remember C actually staying at his dads during the time i went away to see my family.

anyway, when we had started dating C had introduced this podcast to me. its a swedish one where a guy called jack reads creepypastas, analyzes spooky stuff, old folklore, all that stuff, and also reads original content and real stories written by listeners. its really good and really creepy. so that podcast had been going for maybe two years by then so i had a LOT to catch up with, wich wasnt a bad thing at all. i remember by this time is was summer and i was out on the street smoking a cigarette after doing dishes, and the episode i was listening to was about the last of the execution spots/gallow hills (?? i guess is the correct term? not sure) in sweden. remember, we lived in the old part of the city center, in the northern part of the city. very old buildings, very old everything. so jack commences to talk about the famous last gallow hill in [our city] and where it was located, when the final execution took place and for what, how many people had been killed there and its entire bloody history. i almost drop my cigarette, because he says it was located on zenithgatan (”zenith street”), and where the gallows used to be there is now a kindergarten. so im on our street, just outside our kitchen windows, looking right at that specific kindergarten. just across the main road. i will provide a screenshot of a map and a street view of what i was looking at to let you know i am not making this up:

so the street we lived on is called döbelnsgatan (”döbeln street”, döbeln is apparently a city in germany, i just googled that), at the very end of the street, our citys main old cemetary is juuust beyond our line of sight to the right from the kitchen windows and where i was standing. however, across from us: zenithgatan, with all of its bloody history. i couldnt help but to wonder how far the blood could had flown from there and where the bodies had been thrown, if this entire part of town is built on bloody ground etc. it really gave me massive creeps.

a few years later (which would be a few months ago, when i moved in to the room where i live presently) i happened to land a conversation about ghosts with my new flatmate. turns out she also used to live in those neighbourhoods, in an apartment on the third floor literally overlooking the cemetary, but on celciusgatan, which would be the next street over from döbelnsgatan (see map). and she told me, without me having said anything at all about all of this, that that part of town including her apartment has always been haunted. she used to see a shadow of a man through frosted glass doors, moving around in rooms that were closed when both she and her son and her sister were in the kitchen. she didnt experience any malice however, and also had someone come check it out for her, but apparently she just had nice ghosts. but we agreed that yeah, these buildings are literallty inbetween a cemetary and the gallows; there are probably bound to be a lot of lost souls wandering around.

this could also be over-analyzing it, but if you draw lines from the cemetary to the site of the executions to döbelnsgatan/celciusgatan, it makes a perfect triangle. while googling the translation of ‘döbeln’ just now it says right in the wikipedia description that it is located ‘somewhat in the middle of a triangle, made up by three cities’. coincidence, perhaps. probably. but still. by now im pretty conviced of anything that could hold any significance about all of this.

the painting

later on, maybe by a few months, and C tells me when i get home from work that he had woken up that day, after i went to work, from the painting atop of his big secretaire/chiffonier/bookcase (its really a big piece of heavy furtinure, but lets call it bookcase just to be simple) coming crashing down behind it. that painting had stood there since january, at least 9-10 months, and had not fallen down ONCE. it was leaning against the wall, perched safely and steady on the bookcase, with at least a centimeter bookcase until the gap between wall and furniture. i remember thinking last time i looked it was covered in dust because no one even as much as dusted that thing off, and there had been no weird vibrations in the walls that would have shook it either. by this point we’re both very, very uncomfortable in this apartment.

the painting and the hollow in the wall

and here comes the final thing that happened before he moved out, the part that we have on film. ill have to ask my ex for the footage if anyones interested in it, which is fine.

C was doing a collaboration with some people on instagram, an educational account about depression, self-harm, anxiety and such. they gave him the assignment to film himself talking about personal experiences, i think they wanted maybe 13 videos or something like that, the theme being ‘death’ (those videos are still up, im unsure if they posted this one as it kind of strayed from the mental health stuff a bit, but i know C has it still). so at this time - maybe september or october? i really dont know exactly when this was, i could probably scroll on their instagram account but im too lazy - he was filming himself a lot. so, he brought up the painting crashing, and filmed us both while demonstrating how it physically could not have moved and crashed down behind the bookcase because of the way it stood on top of it. it would have been one thing if it fell forward, but then it would have landed on its front and fallen in front of the bookcase, probably shattered the glass. but it fell BEHIND it. on camera, you can see my hands pushing on it to demonstrate the way it went down into that snug space inbetween. you would have had to physically push on it, at least a centimeter back, from the front. so for some reason, i get the very random idea to knock on the wall behind it. which means, i stand in the corridor and knock on the corridor wall that divides the bedroom from the hallway. and i swear to god, this is ON FILM. i knock all over the wall and its all concrete - except for THE SPOT EXACTLY BEHIND THE FUCKING PAINTING. the wall is hollow. right behind the painting. where it stood leaned against on the other side. i cant explain why i all of a sudden tried knocking all over the wall, or why the actual fuck there is a hollow square in the middle of the corridor wall, but that really fucked us up. there were just too many weird coincidences, you know.

like, all of this happened, or seemed to be centered around, the corridor. as if our hallway was some nexus for supernatural activity. and with that hollow thing, it was like it was starting to make its way into the bedroom, you know? unsettling.

thankfully, C moved out of there in december and we didnt have to stay there anymore, but i sometimes pass by and think about asking the current tenant or the neighbours if they experienced anything strange. its just so eerie. the mimicking parts were the scariest to me, and i get chills thinking about them and reading it even now.

so, thats my long, long overdue creepy encounter. i am VERY aware i sound insane but, hey. what can i do. i am not one for lying and i know that so thats all that matters tbh. i have other encounters as well, but living in that apartment takes the fucking cake.

[bonnissance]

see i was gonna give u something cute and fluffy but then... kate/osgood & 6 im dyin already

so the prompt was Kate/Osgood+piggy back and :333 a million thanks to @strangerstarsandlands​ for being my medical situation go to *blows a kiss* and @biancagrieve​ for being a beta-ing babe and holding my hand

I may be no action woman but I’m happy to have your back, Kate/Osgood (Doctor Who/Big Finish Audios), teen (maybe mature for physical injury? but it’s all fairly tame), 2k+ (lmao what’s a drabble?) cw: broken leg+pinched nerve=limp noodle foot

“Ma’am!”

Kate hears Osgood’s yell resound in the corridor before she even realises she’s stopped running. Feels the fall before she sees the crack and jut of the stone floor. Feels the break long before she’s registered hitting the ground.

She screws her eyes shut and whimpers softly as she presses her forehead against the cold floor. Curls onto her side and brings her knees in on herself, as if that might choke the scream resting in her chest or ease the pain throbbing in her leg. She keeps her eyes shut as she hears Osgood call her name, as she feels Osgood’s hands flitter frantic from her shoulder to her back to her hip, as she feels Osgood brush against Kate’s own hands; hands hovering above her leg, desperate to hold it till it stops hurting, but too scared to touch knowing it won’t help.

“Ma’am, what happened, are you alright?” Osgood’s asks, panic and concern palpable, as Kate stays curled up and whimpering.

Kate shakes her head and flaps a hand at Osgood, to calm her down and usher her away. She pushes herself up on her elbows and swipes at the sweat formed on her brow; rests her weight on her hip and finally opens her eyes.

“No, Osgood, I’m not,” Kate bites out. She press her knuckles into the ground to sit up properly as she does her best to access the situation through the fog of pain, constantly cycling back to one solid, essential idea: “We need to get out of here.”

Kate tries to stand under her own steam, to push herself upright and off the ground. Fails. She feels Osgood’s arm looped around her waist and hauling her up before she’s had a chance to ask for help, instinctually loops her own arms around Osgood’s neck, bracing herself against Osgood’s side as she rests her body weight on one foot. She vaguely registers Osgood feels surprisingly sturdy beside her as she shuffles to settle the second foot on the ground, struggling to keep a groan from clawing its way out of her throat. She muffles it as best she can till it ends up a whimper, sharp and nasal high, as she rest her weight on both feet now flat on the ground.

She clings to Osgood as she bends gently at the knee, sees Osgood look up and down the corridor in the corner of her peripheries, straightens again and loosens her grip.

She clenches her jaw as she takes a step, keeps it clutches as she takes another, as she takes another to peel away from Osgood completely to leave her hovering a foot behind.

“Right, let’s go,” Kate forces out, balling her hand into a fist and walking as close to her normal pace as she can manage as they continues up the corridor towards their extraction point. They only have to make one more turn to get eyes on the rendez-vous.

Kate attempts to pick up the pace, to rush towards the corner, only to collapse a few steps later. This time Osgood catches her before she hits the ground: wraps an arm around her waist to stabilise, shuffles her over towards the wall, pushes Kate back till she’s leaning against the wall.

Kate loops an arm under her thigh to brace her leg and leaves it hanging above the ground; rests the back of her head against the brick and takes a few shaky breaths.

“How bad?” Kate bites out, eyes burning, as she looks up at the granite ceiling. She can just make out the top of Osgood’s head as she crouches slightly to get a better at look at Kate’s leg.

“I, ah, umm, it’s not, I mean…” Osgood stammers and Kate inhales sharply.

“Osgood!” Kate snaps, all her patience funnelled into trying not to cry. She looks down to meet Osgood’s eyes looking back at her, concern evident behind her glasses.

“You’re foot, it’s gone…funny,” Osgood mumbles. “Like that time McGillop knocked over that stack of crates in the subbasement.”

Kate’s stomach rolls at the memory: rescuing their head of R&D from under a bundle of broken wood and artefacts only to realise a broken bone had pinched a nerve that left his left foot limp and dangling when he tried to stand. She hadn’t been able to tear her eyes away from the odd angle it sat in as they waited for the paramedics. She resists the urge to look at her own.

“You need to get out of here, right now,” Osgood mumbles as she slips an arm around Kate’s waist to pull her close. Kate slings an arm over Osgood shoulder, lets herself be pulled away from the wall, does her best to hop up the corridor using Osgood as a crutch.

“It’s not like we were already trying to do that,” Kate snarks through gritted teeth, panting and heaving as the approach the corner. She barely manages to smirk at her own joke when the faint calls of soldiers and clatter of boots make their way up the corridor. Osgood’s grip on her waist gets tighter and she practically throws them around the corner. The extraction point is within sight and just out of reach.

Kate falters. Her knee gives out. She just manages to push herself towards the wall to brace her fall instead of going face first into the ground and possibly snapping her leg in two.

Osgood is in front of her in an instant, hands reaching out to help; Kate ducks away, flattening herself against the wall.

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” Kate whimpers as she tries to massage her cramp stiffened thigh. She thinks she can make out the sound of individual boots on the ground now; hopes one of them falls and cracks their head open. “Go!” Her mouth is dry and her whole body aches and she’s not sure she can feel her foot anymore. “One of us needs to get out of here and report back to base—”

“Both of us need to get out of here,”  Osgood replies, voice just shy of frantic.

“We can’t Osgood, I can’t,” Kate spits out as she swallow the burn of bile at the back of her her throat. “Go, please,” she says, so quiet it’s almost begging. They both know the corridor won’t stay empty for long. “Don’t make me order you.”

“Don’t make me disobey you,” Osgood insists as her eyes dart left and right, obviously racking her brain for a way to get them out of there, until her eye narrow behind her glasses as she settles on a way to get them out of there. “Come on, I’ll carry you.”

“What, no!” Kate splutters, gapes. “Don’t be ridiculous, just go,” she says, mouth still slack, pushing Osgood away by the shoulders, pushing her away. “I’ll be alright, go!”

The both know it’s a lie: not with Kate’s leg and especially with the hash they made of negotiations that led them to running for their lives though winding stone tunnels in the first place.

“I’m not leaving you!” Osgood all but shouts, her eyes wide and fearful. Kate starts, stunned and wide eyed, stammers slightly. She sees Osgood suck in a deep breath and soften, feels Osgood slip a hand into Kate’s, looks down to watch their fingers tangle together. “Please, Kate,” Osgood whispers and Kate looks up into her eyes. “I can’t leave you, and you can’t do it on your own.”

Kate sucks in a shaky breath, squeezes Osgood’s hand, nods sharply.

Osgood smiles—more a grimace with the absence of fear that a smile—and turns her back to Kate. She crouches down enough for Kate to brace against her back and wraps her arms around Kate’s knees; Kate wrap her arms around her neck and leans against Osgood’s back as she stand up again. Osgood gently jostles her upwards, one leg at a time, and Kate lets out a gentle “oof” each time her weight settles properly on either side. Her thighs grip hard around Osgood’s hips.

Kate wants to say “this is ridiculous you can’t carry me you can’t walk like this it’s impossible” but keeps her mouth shut when Osgood takes her weight in her stride and make towards the door, not quite fast enough to be a jog, but so much faster than Kate had been expecting. Kate feels her eyes go wide as she notices the bulge of Osgood’s bicep against her sides and the strength of her grip under Kate’s thighs. If she were standing on her own two feet Kate suspects she might be a bit weak at the knee; keeps that observation to herself and settles for clinging to Osgood just a little tighter as she tries to keep her leg steady.

They reach the door—the one that promises to lead them out of the underground caves and into the tunnels leading to the world outside and the rest of their team already waiting for them—and Osgood lets go of Kate’s left leg. She reaches out to the door control while holding Kate’s right leg firm against her as Kate slides off her back. She only lets go when Kate is safely tucked into the corner and leaning back against the wall.

Kate closes her eyes, Osgood punching in code after code as she works though the list of credentials they were given on their arrival at breakneck speed, and tries to get her thoughts in order. She can still feel the phantom of Osgood’s body against hers: the pane of Osgood’s back against her stomach, the cut of shoulder blades curled against her breasts, the grip of Osgood’s hands around her thighs. She can still feel Osgood pressed tight against her, sharper than the throb in her leg or the ache in her head, and does her best not to think about how that makes her feel. She gets distracted by the Osgood’s hum of success and the hiss of the door unsealing.

Kate opens her eyes to look over Osgood’s shoulder. Sees a troop of soldiers turning the corner. Sees them halt. Sees them take aim. Her whole body rushes white hot and numb.

Kate yells and curls to the side as Osgood throws the door open. She hears weapons fire and a series of pings hitting the door. Feels Osgood wraps an arm around her waist. Feels herself hauled over the threshold and into the safety the next room. Hears the door slammed shut and finds herself dumped, gently enough given the circumstances, near enough to the wall to reach out and brace herself steady.

The room is filled with the Osgood’s mutterings and the peep of the door control and the muffled clang of boots on the other side of the wall.

Kate pushes a palm against the stone and and stares straight ahead, standing on one leg with the other kinked like a flamingo, and breathing heavy through the adrenaline coursing through her. She glances to the side to see Osgood still frantically entering codes, mumbling about deadlock seals, and realise that Osgood just carried her—her whole body weight in one arm—through the door to get her to safety before Kate could even think to issue an order.

She blinks at Osgood, slightly slack jawed and panting, and struggles to follow her own thoughts as they race through how strong Osgood is—how brave she just was—what would I do without her and she just saved my life and good god she’s so strong.

The door hisses again as the control peeps and Kate takes Osgood’s sigh of relief as a good sign, especially given she seems remarkably unperturbed by the crashing and banging on the other side.

Kate twists to face Osgood, a bit wide eyed and blinking rapidly, as Osgood turns towards her.

“Thank you, for listening, for trusting me,” Osgood starts, reaching out to take Kate’s free hand and help keep her steady on one foot. Kate slides their palms together and feels her skin tingle. “I promise I’ll get you out of here,” Osgood reassures her, rubbing her thumb over Kate’s knuckle.

She blinks at Osgood, smiling small and bright, standing tall and strong and barely a foot away. Inhales deeply as her blood hums and her leg aches and her head throbs, and does what any reasonable person would do in the situation: pulls Osgood close and holds her tight and kisses her hard and doesn’t even think of letting her go.