#just saw the pics and imagined dying under those lights

[ezura-knightshade]

This feels like it’ll be added to Gotham.

Because it’s friendly to bats and it also looks like it’s straight out of a fucking horror movie.

perhaps some will disagree, but i think the world got worse when we changed the colour of the night

[codename-adler]

foxes + onesies (1/9)

based off of that one post i saw and don’t remember, where people once caught Allison wandering around Fox Tower in a giraffe onesie, and i absolutely melted for her. here is the Foxes’ journey to getting a onesie each!

Allison  

in the aftermath of the “mob war”, Allison still sees Betsy for counselling, mostly to cope with Seth’s death still, her ED and to process her childhood and teenage trauma

Betsy teaches her a lot about self-care (and not in Allison’s traditionnal definitions of self-care, which are: bottle it up, act out, burn through 500$ in clothes, repeat)

all in all, Allison has a lot to come to terms with by the end of the semester, and Betsy won’t be there as much in the summer, so she leaves her with a little list of self-care tips to look at when Ally feels overwhelmed

- pick a time to make yourself some tea, or try out some new ones and tell me about it next time

- try drawing with those wonderful pencils of yours, but in different art styles (because yes, Allison does have a fashion sketchbook. but silly doodles? abstract drawings? anatomy sketches? she never tried)

- watch movies by yourself, and for yourself, Allison

- since you love shopping and spending so much, find yourself a cozy thing, a soft thing that will only be for yourself, when you need to be reminded to love yourself and be gentle with yourself

those were the suggestions that stuck to Ally the most

so the next time she goes out to the mall with Dan and Renee, she doesn’t expect to find anything like Betsy suggested

she does look for some herbal tea at David’s Tea, and ends up getting some hibiscus + rose water green tea

but then they go to Walmart (she wants to gag)

fucking Walmart

the girls need some pads and tampons, and the gatorades are on sale (because all the Foxes, as a treat for winning the Championship and bc they all want to stay close after the hard year they endured, got to stay on campus for the whole summer (idc if it’s unrealistic, sue me, that’s how i roll))

for once, Allison follows Dan and Renee, without looking at anything, without touching anything (what if she catches it??)

then Renee wants to look for socks

that’s when Ally passes a rack of colorful onesies

one brushes the tip of her elbow, and wow it’s so soft

not at all the quality material she expected

she stops in her tracks, lets the girls go on to the underwear section, and really looks at the pajamas

there are lots of unicorns, and pandas, a few mouses, and two giraffes

bright yellow, light-spotted giraffes, with their little ears and antlers and all

the sewn-on eyes are closed and have cute little lashes details

Allison imagines herself wearing it and feels utterly stupid

but- she keeps running her fingers through the synthetic velvety material, mesmerized by its softness

she thinks back on Betsy’s list

the folks would absolutely loathe it. the high school bitches too. God, even Seth would say it’s fucking stupid. Nobody should ever be seen wearing that…

But I wouldn’t have to worry about my man-shoulders in it… or my stomach… or my thighs… I could even go braless, or wear just that cute little bralette I haven’t got the courage to wear yet… and I think Renee would agree it’s cute…

then she hears Betsy’s soothing voice in her head

But do you like it?

Yes. Yes I do.

and that’s how Allison takes down the onesie, cashes out and waits for the two other girls outside the Walmart entrance, feeling silly, and jitty, yet quite happy with herself

back at Fox Tower, she washes it immediately, only to stuff it back under her bed

it stays there for quite a few weeks, until it’s almost time for school to start again, her last year at PSU

the boys are out at the beach, Andrew and Neil are God-knows-where, Renee is meeting a friend, and Dan is out shopping with her Sisters

Ally is alone, and lonely

she’s craving something, something that feels close to how one of her nanny used to take care of her hair before bedtime, telling her stories of folklore around the world

guessing that nobody will be back before sundown, she reaches underneath her bed and takes out the giraffe onesie

she gets rid of her high-waisted skinny jeans, her silky cropped blouse and her high-heeled sandals in favor of Seth’s old Marvel boxer shorts, her baby blue bralette she still hasn’t worn, and the infamous onesie

and wow, it’s so baggy

as she buttons up the front, it almost feels like being wrapped up in a giant, fluffy pancake

she giggles to herself, like a little girl

until she goes to look at herself in the mirror, where she straight-up bursts out laughing

she feels so, so light

she puts on a pair of Renee’s fuzzy socks with the sticky soles and leaves her bedhair as it is

she spends the rest of the day on the couch, watching Barbie movies from the hidden collection she has in her closet while painting her real nails in rainbow colors

she makes herself a big cup of the tea she bought, and lights an ocean-breeze candle

between Barbie as the Island Princess and Barbie and the Magic of Pegasus, she even goes so far as going at the end of the hallway to buy some sugar-free gummy bears from the vending machine, completely forgetting herself…

of course, this is when the boys, including Andrew and Neil, are coming back from their day outdoors

she stops dead in her tracks when she turns around and sees them, a *giraffe* caught in the headlights

the boys only notice her because she stops moving so abruptly

she’s speechless

the boys, not so much

Kevin: *oblivious to the onesie situation* So you’re the one hoarding the healthy gummies. Dude give back some.

Matt: Oh, hi Ally… *raises his pointer finger, opens and closes his mouth in awe, lowers his arm back down* Cute?

Andrew: *his face says he doesn’t give a shit, but he’ll let the image make its way to his heart eventually* *very sneakily snaps an adorable pic for the group chat*

Neil: *whispering to Andrew, genuinely confused*  I thought these were for babies? Do we qualify as babies? Why is Ally dressed like a baby, Andrew?

Nicky: BITCHHHHHH I shoulda made a bet on THAT!

Aaron: Well fuck. 60 points to Hufflepuff for cuteness.  Ugh. I can’t believe I said “cute”. Jesus, I wanna vomit. Eurk.

Allison slowly makes her way back to her dorm room without a word, her cheeks flushed and her eyes to the ground, clutching her bag of gummies

she hasn’t felt this vulnerable since Seth’s passing

an hour later, she’s still hiding under her blankets as Renee and Dan file in

of course, they saw the photo posted to their group chat, and they heard everything from Matt and Nicky

Renee gets under the covers with Ally, and Dan proceeds to show off the goods she got with a very silly runway walk

they don’t say anything, until Neil sends a new picture on the GC

it’s a printed version of Andrew’s picture, pinned to the locker room wall with all the other photos they’ve accumulated

and everybody in the chat is dying of cuteness overload

Ally’s got that look of a toddler caught red handed, so open and genuine and surprised; her mouth is slighlty opened in an “o” shape; her mismatched fuzzy socks are peeking from underneath the bunched up fabric at her ankles; the hood is pulled up and slouching over her head…

but nobody, nobody, is making fun of her

we’re talking about the Foxes here. they never pull their punches.

so this? unexpected. shocking. astounding.

and right at the bottom of the picture, in shaky black marker: Baby Ally

with a poorly drawn heart next to it

in Neil’s unmistakeable handwriting

she cries

and never again is she ashamed of wandering around in her giraffe onesie

and if from then on, many Foxes gifts are soft things for her, well, that is called character development

[tuancore]

Lost You (Part 12) :

Starring- Jinyoung x reader

Genre- Angst

Summary- It's your choices and actions which made you miserable.

The more you rotated your eyes around the place, the more you realised how every single thing in there held so many sweet memories. Had the circumstances been different you would've cried out of joy, for every showpiece, every photo frame, every furniture, every book had you and Jinyoung connected with the greatest love which all of your friends swore by, standing inside your apartment alone, your form was trembling burning with rage and grief at the same time, the whole place smelled like home, Jinyoung's Cologne mixed with yours and it began to suffocate you. You didn't want to have any sort of attachment with him.

You hated him for that.

When you first told your parents about dating Jinyoung, they grew quite awkward, which only meant hesitation. You took Jinyoung home, with you couple of times which eased some of their hesitation, your father seemed to grow fond of him, as they played billiards and chess together, it was as if Jinyoung's love in its raw form was visible in everything he did, but your mother never really approved of your relationship with him.

"Why don't you like Jinyoung already? Just look at dad, he's so happy whenever Jinyoung's home" You remarked hugging your mother's shoulders as Jinyoung and your father played chess. Staring at them intently, your mother finally spoke up "I can see how much you both love eachother, but I don't know why I have this uneasy feeling, I don't feel like giving you to him". Shaking your head you pecked your mother's cheeks, saying "Mom stop worrying, you're overthinking. I assure you that he'll love me forever and keep me happy maybe even more than you guys", your little teasing earned you a light head smack from her, "Hopefully honey".

Grabbing your hair harshly you sobbed harder with each passing second, only if you listened to your mother, you wouldn't be standing here like a bloody mess. Your heart was already ripped apart and now your soul was also starting to give up. Striding towards the windows, you tugged onto the curtains harshly as they landed on the floor with a thud, along with the curtain rod, then striding towards the television you pushed it from the tabletop another harsh sound joining the air.

You hated him for that.

"Why! Why! Why! Just why Jinyoung why?! You promised that you'll love me more than yourself! You promised to always put me first!" You punched the wall beside, with every word, ranting to particularly no one, as your knuckles bled painting the beige wall red, "You promised me......then why?".

Despite your bleeding hand, you started taking out every single photo frame from that wall, throwing it somewhere across the room. The place echoed with the noise of breaking and shattering of glasses as frames and showpieces landed harshly on the floor. Rage was all that filled your mind at the moment. Throwing and breaking things wouldn't turn back things to the way they were, but you wanted to destroy every single thing that reminded of your love for him, you wanted your tears to stop flowing for him when he wasn't even worthy to be cried over.

You hated him for that.

Trashing the entire living room, you locked yourself in the bedroom. Reminiscing all over again, staring at the bed where you both spent countless nights loving eachother under the sheets with both of your bodies and souls as one, the times when you both had pillow fights just to win a stupid argument. Yes, you both argued most of the time over nonsensical and useless things but never seriously. Never.

Not to forget those reading sessions, whenever it came to reading books it was a constant for you to occupy the centre of bed either laying on your stomach or on your back, with your spectacles on while Jinyoung liked reading sitting on his beanbag with a vanilla latte or a cup of coffee in his hand, a black squared frame sitting on his nose bridge firmly making him look more handsome. It used to go well for few hours but after you both have satisfied your reading pleasure, you both used to exchange glances at eachother throught the pages of the book to make sure the other one is also done reading and when one puts off their spectacles then it's over.

You hated him for that.

Coming to the kitchen, it was another sweet little thing that you both enjoyed dearly. It was a rule that Jinyoung set up that the one who comes home early will cook the meals, since the one coming late might be exhausted as hell, and whenever you both were late, you guys ordered for a take out. However, mostly it was you both cooking together, no matter who was cooking and who was volunteering, you both couldn't help but keep on brushing past eachother making sure to have some physical contacts.

"I don't know how to bake a cake" You whined, reluctantly putting on the apron. Jinyoung chuckled tying your apron behind your back guiding you to mix the batter, but when you started to mix it, he stood behind you so close that you were able to feel his hot breath fanning your neck, "Angel..slow down.." he whispered darkly, placing his lips on your neck, "Jinyoung...." Suppressing a moan, you pushed him off, "Go prepare other things".

After setting the batter into the mould, you both waited patiently but you being you grabbed a handful of white flour throwing it on Jinyoung, laughing your stomach out you remarked "Your hair is finally dyed to...white...let me click a pic and send it to others". Jinyoung gave you a jokeful glare, grabbing some flour too, he chased you around the house, hugging you closely to him putting flour in your head, "Now yours white too, let's send them our pic with #couplegoals".

Thinking of every moment you both shared there was way too many, that you can never forget even if you gave it your all.

You hated him for that.

Your gaze shifted towards the balcony, it was where you both discussed about your days over a cup of coffee or hot chocolate after an exhausting time at works, how his father always stuffed him with contracts and clients, how your boss nagged you for not being fast enough to complete your work. The times when you stressed over things and he back hugged you peppering your necks and shoulders with kisses which always began innocently but ended up in bed.

There was something about his touch, his words which always lured you to him. The way he gently placed you on bed, before stripping you to nakedness before his eyes, which never spoke hunger for your body but always love and affection, the way he always asked for your consent before making love to you even if he had done it thousands of time before, he was always respectful. During sex, he always cared about your comfort first, he always put you first focusing on your release before his, he liked doing it slow and passionately to show how much he was in love with you and not to forget the "I love you's" You both let out moaning at the feeling as your bodies became one. Over the time, you got so accustomed to his touch and presence that he could have you writhing under without putting any efforts from his side.

You hated him for all the times he sweetly whispered those "I love you's" in your ears.

You hated him for everything.

__________

Jinyoung gasped at the news of your miscarriage, he wanted to cry his out but then again it's what he has been doing for the past few hours. Even his tears can't bring back the child, the evidence of your love for eachother, it was too late now, way too late. BamBam nodded at Jinyoung finally letting hot tears spill from his eyes for the first time after he entered into Jinyoung's cabin.

Nobody dared to speak a single word, how could they when none of them had any particular words left to say. But there was one common sentence running through all six of theirs heads was 'Everything is over'. Heart was not only bleeding but souls and minds were ripping apart as well, they all felt like losing some battle at the last after fighting it with a silver armour.

Even one could see BamBam falling apart, the one who fought for you and Jinyoung with the world just to give you both the same love back. No one saw him crying before, until now. Somehow he blamed the misfortune of you losing the baby on himself.

"Only....If....I didn't let Noona talk to Jisoo and neither had she run away like that.....and...." BamBam's voice getting inaudible, his throat tying. Yugyeom hugged BamBam stroking his back, trying to soothe some of his pain although he knew it was useless, "BamBam.....don't blame yourself, please don't.....you only meant good for noona from the start.....so please....." Yugyeom whispered closing his own eyes shut to prevent his tears from falling.

"It's all my fault......" Jinyoung whispered covering his entire face, "No one is responsible for any of this..... except for me...". Though it was true that Jinyoung was the sole reason behind all these mishappens, he was already drowning in remorse and others didn't want to scold him any further, what would they even gain by scolding him or lecturing him or making him feel the worst person in this entire planet, Will you get your same love back? No. Will you get your child back? No.

"I want to see her...." Was all he managed to cough out, somehow keeping his tears at bay. It was understandable, you both will always be deep rooted in eachother's heart. Whenever Jinyoung did something to hurt you it also hurt him but he loves you and that can never be altered. He was a fool to not to clarify things with you but he always felt sick without you around. He even started to hallucinate you everywhere, in his cabin, in his car, even when he slept he imagined you hugging him, he loves you, but it's his insecure nature which made him lose your love and the child.

"I don't think it's a good time to meet—" JB started with hesitation but BamBam cut in, removing Yugyeom's arms from his body, "I'll take you there".

"But BamBam!" Mark reasoned, BamBam shook his head in denial not wanting to hear any of there theories, "It's best if they both just talk everything out, right now", BamBam completed, putting his phone inside his pants pocket, he grabbed Jinyoung's arm firmly pulling him outside, with others following behind.

"BamBam things will get pretty ugly, Do you think they can just chit chat about what happened?" Jackson belted, as if BamBam was high on thin air. "I know what I'm doing and please.....I don't have any strength left in me to prolong things....".

"Hyungs, Yugyeom....Go home, get some rest, it's better if they talk alone without anyone around" BamBam blurted with a knowing look, hoping for everyone to understand as they nodded.

"BamBam—" Jinyoung called, which BamBam decided to ignore, "Hyung... if I'm helping you that doesn't mean I've forgiven you......nor will I anytime soon", he sternly announced, stepping on the gas pedal.

Jinyoung immediately shut his mouth, staring outside of the window, the sky has already darkened as street lights shone brightly, his mind drifted off to you, how much you loved the night views.

Jinyoung laid lazily on the couch with,'To Kill A Mockingbird',one of his favourite books in his hands reading it with great concentration,on the other hand you were getting crazy as he is reading that book for three hours straight, sitting on the centre table you tapped your feet impatiently.

"Jinyoung...Enough of reading~~" You whined, pouting like a kid but yet he ignored it by reading the lines out aloud. Letting out a groan, you snatched his book running around the house, it was finally his turn to groan,"Give me my book".

"No...you'll get your book when we'll get some ice cream together!",Sighing he agreed.

He was about to take his car when you pleaded him to go on a bike,you hugged his waist tightly sitting behind him, resting your head on his broad back inhaling the evening air. Jinyoung smiled widely, everything you did made him realise how much in love he was with you. The whole ride you kept on hugging him, staring at the lights hung on trees and railings, so beautiful.

After getting the ice cream, you both played in the snow which was gathered in the amusement park, "Nyoung...I just love night time, so cold yet the environment is so warm it gives off so much happiness!" Squealing you threw a snowball at him. "Yeps..with you I feel that happiness" he smiled, dusting off snow from him, placing his lips on your plump ones, he whispered, "I love you".

"I love you more".

Retrieving to the reality, Jinyoung asked hesitantly, "Do you think she'll forgive me?", "To be honest, I have no idea, it's upto her now, you can only hope for the best...." BamBam replied, pulling the car in the parking lot.

When Jinyoung noticed that it was both of yours shared apartment his eyes widened, he stared at BamBam as to why he has brought him here. "I told you I'll take you to Noona..." He muttered getting out of the car.

"She's here...?" Jinyoung tried to reconfirm, "Are you sure?..". Taking the elevator to the desired floor, Jinyoung's body began to tremble real bad, his face got pale as soon as the elevator came to a halt.

"Lisa herself dropped Noona here" BamBam informed, pushing Jinyoung towards the main door, "I won't go inside..... All the best", chills ran through his body, beads of cold sweats forming on his forehead, he tried to open the door but it was locked from inside luckily he had his key with him. Shooting a final glance at BamBam he pushed open the door.

His body freezing at the mere sight of the house, everything completely destroyed. The wall where he hung both of yours pictures all trashed, glass splattered everywhere on the floor, his eyes after scanning each and every part stopped at the red stains on the picture wall, hesitantly walking towards it, he saw fresh blood with your hand marks. Tears rolled down his eyes, not only did he break you but also shattered you completely to debris.

However finding the door to both of your bedroom's locked, he hurried trying to push it open, but stopped since it was locked. Pressing his ears to the door he tensed at your loud sobs and whimpers, hearing your voice your pain and disappointment was visible. And it ripped Jinyoung's heart.

"I HATE YOU PARK JINYOUNG!!!!" You yelled in a high pitch, which made Jinyoung cry listening to so much hate for him.

"I'M SORRY ANGEL!!" He let out a loud whimper making sure you hear him, "I AM SO SO SO SORRY".

Part 11 // Part 12 // Part 13

______________________________________

[sherrybaby14]

Break Away

Request: Could you do a Bucky fic sort of similar to The Distraction but where the reader fights back and Bucky gets angry, or something along those lines? Dom!Buck kills me. I love your pics so much, and they're actually what got me into Bucky in the first place, so thank you for helping Seb steal my heart. ♥️

 Warnings:  Non Con (Please do not read if this offends you) (turns into dub con) kidnapping, Smut, 

Pairing:  Bucky x reader

 Rating: Explicit

 Words: 2800

 A/N:  Thank you so much @kxttykatmichael ! I hope you enjoy

              This was it.  Months of behaving the way he wanted you to, letting him chose your clothes, make him food, keep the house clean, being the perfect little doll.  It had paid off.  He bought your Stockholm syndrome act.  

             “You’re quiet.”  Bucky looked over at you from the driver’s seat.  

             “I haven’t been in public for a while.”  You gave a nervous laugh.  “I’m scared of being around other people.”  

             “You’ve been so good lately.”  He brought your knuckle to his lips and kissed.  “It can be like this all the time Doll.  I can take you to the movies, concerts, restaurants, plays.  I can make you happy.”

             “You do make me happy.”  You were so nervous, it was hard not to cringe and pull away.  

             He pulled the car into a parking spot and you looked around.  It was a park.  Your heart sank.  A park at night.  Who would you find to help you here?

             “I thought we would start small.”  Bucky undid his seatbelt before reaching over and taking off yours.  “Simple walk along the river.”  

             You gave a half-smile.  There was still some hope.  You’d kept the act up long enough.  You weren’t about to break it now.  

             “Don’t be scared Doll.”  Bucky opened the door and slammed it shut.  

             You stayed in yours, quieting down the voice urging you to run.  Run now.  Get a head start.  No. He was too fast. He would catch you.  Another person was your only hope.  Bucky opened your door and offered you his hand.  

             Please let this be it.  Please let tonight be the last time you had to pretend you loved the man, loved the sick pleasure he’d forced on you.  

             “I can feel you shaking.”  He pulled you to your feet and put an arm around your waist. “I promise I’ll protect you. You’re safe with me.  Always.”  

             You fought back the tears, the desire to punch and scream at him ‘YOU’RE THE ONE I NEED PROTECTION FROM YOU BASTARD’.  You swallowed all the urges away and nodded.  

             “I know.”  Two simple words that brought such a smile to his handsome face.  

             He guided you to the river walk, the water glowing under the moon.  There wasn’t a single soul around and your heart started to break.  

             “Maybe once I’ve decided you’re comfortable enough I can take you on a vacation.”  Bucky swung your hand as you walked.  “A week in paradise together?  Days on the beach? Mojitos?”  

              “Alcohol?” You were shocked, he’d never let you touch a sip the entire time in captivity.  

             “Well, vacation is a special occasion.”  Bucky smiled. “And you’re earning your privileges.  Maybe a glass of wine with dinner tomorrow is in order. Would you like that?”

             You nodded your head as your heart started to melt.  That sounded divine.  NO!  Your brain snapped back.  This was a show, you were not conditioned.  You kidnapper giving you a treat was nothing to be grateful for.  

             While you battled internally you looked ahead and your mouth fell open in shock. It was a person. In the darkness, you could tell it was a man.  He even looked bigger than Bucky.  Your heart started to race.  Bucky squeezed your fingers tighter.  A warning.

             There wouldn’t be a failure.  This person would help you.  Save you. You were going to getaway.  

             “Now now Doll, don’t do anything reckless.”  Bucky’s voice made you shiver while he squeezed your hand so hard it hurt.

             But you didn’t care.  This was your chance.  The man was getting closer and closer.  You were spiraling, focusing on nothing but him, ignoring Bucky’s warning and threats.

             You darted forward, he was holding on to you too tight for you to break free.

             “HELP ME! HELP THIS MAN HAS TAKEN ME…” A hand wrapped around your mouth as you were pulled sharp against Bucky’s chest.  

             You struggled and screamed underneath him, trying to twist away.  The figure, the man was still approaching. Even in his grasp, you felt like you’d won.  The stranger was coming to save you and Bucky was acting the part of the villain.  Who wouldn’t help a woman struggling against her will?

             “What’s all this about?”  The stranger stepped into view.  

             He didn’t react as you reached for him, trying to get away from Bucky’s grip on your body.  

             “Just a naughty little girl who thought she could trick me.”  Bucky laughed.  

             Why wasn’t the man helping?  Why was he just standing there?  

             “You’re not that good of an actress Sweetheart.”  Bucky’s mouth was next to your ear. “And now you’re in for a world of trouble.”  

             The stranger laughed.  What kind of person was he?  You still had your arms outstretched, reaching for him.  

             “You need help getting her back to the car?”  He stepped forward.

             You recognized the face and recoiled, pushing yourself into Bucky’s grasp as you looked at the man’s best friend.  The tears started to fall and your struggle stopped.  This was a setup.  A test.  One you’d failed.  

             “No.”  Bucky relaxed and spun you around, pushing his shoulder into your stomach as he hoisted you in the air with little resistance.  “She’s a smartie pants.  I think she already put it all together.”  

             “Well, have a good night.”  Steve Rogers continued on with his stroll.  

             Bucky turned back to the car.  You were fucked.  

             “I’m sorry.”  It was a whisper, but you needed to try and diffuse the situation.

             “Save it.”  SLAP! Bucky’s metal hand hit your ass with full force.

             You jerked as the sting spread down your cheek, no doubt to leave a bruise. When you got to the car, he went to the trunk.

             “No. no. no. Please!! Please, I’ll be good. I promise! I’ll be good.  Not the trunk!”  

             Bucky was not gentle as he tossed you down against the felt.  

             “I’m sorry!” You reached out to him, but only saw anger in his eyes.  

             All the thought and time and planning.  Ruined.  You knew what he was capable of, how cruel he could be when you acted out and how loving he was when you behaved.  What were you thinking?  

             The trunk slammed shut, leaving you in total darkness with nothing but your tears and worry about what he was going to do.

~~

           When the car was turned off you were a trembling wreck, sobbing with fear.   You pictured him breaking you, hitting you, beating you, doing worse than you were imagining.  Was it worth it?  The chance to escape seemed like a dumb idea now.  Would it ever have worked?

             Besides, he gave you a good life here.  He cherished you, loved you, doted on you.  Why were you so eager to leave?

             Because it wasn’t your choice.  Nothing was your choice.  You were his Doll.

             The tug of war in your head was taking over and the seconds felt like minutes. You were so lost in your head you didn’t know the concept of time.  Then you tried to focus, counting.  It wasn’t seconds it was minutes.  

             Horror came over you.  He’d left you in here.  In the darkness of the cramped trunk.  Was he ever coming back?  Was he going to kill you?  

             The feeling of suffocation came on and you started banging against the roof with your palm.

             “Please…let me out.”  A cry broke your words, but you sucked it back in.  “I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry.”  

             And you were because in your heart you knew you deserved this.  

 ~~

             It killed Bucky to hear her scream.  Wailing apologies as she pounded the trunk.  But he stayed strong.  This was for her own good.  She was way out of line tonight. And the truth was, he was hurt.  She was that good of an actress.  He believed her love for him had grown.  

             She wasn’t a lost cause though.  She would never be.  All she needed was more correcting.  She was happy with him, there was a glimmer in her eye that he noticed at times. Where she wasn’t acting but was a woman in love, who wanted his love.  

             If he tried to talk to her in this state it would be tons of apologizing on her part and ignoring on his.  Bucky didn’t want that.  He did not want to return all the way to square one.  Right now she had to tire herself out.  

             Once he was sure of that he would take her inside and they would have a little talk.  He would remind her of how good she had it here, with him.

~~

           You were floating with nothing but blackness around you.  Your hands went limp and muscles cramped from the small space. Your cries had quieted, or at least you could no longer hear them.  

             How could you have been so stupid?  What was the word Bucky used? Reckless.  That was dead on.   He wanted to give you these things, life experiences, with him and how did you return the favor?  Screaming for help.

             What did you need help from?  He just wanted to take care of you.  A small voice added ‘and rule your life’, but it was growing weaker and weaker.  You were tired of hearing it.  

             The passage of time was impossible.  You couldn’t sleep or focus on anything, but how you’d screwed up. And the possibility of dying in the trunk.   You didn’t want that.  

             Sweat covered your entire body but your mouth was so dry and your bladder too full.  Liquid in all the wrong places.  You whimpered and tried to curl into a ball, ignoring the need to stretch your muscles.

             You were so out of it you didn’t hear the noises at all.  The first change to your situation was the light.  You didn’t turn your head to look as Bucky reached down and scooped you into his arms.  

             He smelled like a forest of pine and oak.  He smelled like him.  He smelled like home.  You nuzzled up next to his chest and breathed in wanting to take in all of him.  Hoping he never let you go.  

             You brought your hand to his shirt and gripped it in a fist as he carried you into the house.  The one you viewed as a prison earlier tonight.   Things could be much worse.  You could be living in the trunk.

             Tears started to fall as he went for the basement.  You’d been out of there for months.  But it was back to your home.  You deserved it.  This was your fault.  

             Bucky took you straight to the bathroom and set you down.   He knew you needed to go.  You dared to glance up at him, but he shook his head.

             Another privilege lost.  Shame filled you as you went.  When you were finished you stood up on shaky legs and went to the sink, holding out your hands.  Bucky washed them for you.  

             Tears rolled down your cheek as you realized all you had lost.   The privacy, the ability to do some things for yourself. You looked down at your pretty dress and knew that was going away too.  

             “I’m sorry.”  You were defeated as you backed up and raised your arms.  

             “I know you are Doll.”  Bucky grabbed the hem and lifted it up over your head.  

             You hated the constant nudity, but again, this was all your fault.  At least he called you Doll.  Maybe he wasn’t going to toss you away.  

             He scooped you up again and carried you to the bed in the corner. He sat down and cuddled you in his lap as he brought a water bottle to your lips and guided the drink.  It refreshed you as he rubbed your back.

             “Why?”  He placed a light kiss on your head.  “Why won’t you let me love you?”

             You wanted to tell him he was wrong.  That you wanted his love.  You were desperate for it.  But that would be a lie.  No more faking.  You had to be honest.

             “I don’t know.”  You collapsed against him crying, holding on to his chest.  “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”  

             He wanted to take care of you.  Why couldn’t you let him?  

             “I do.”  Bucky waited to respond until you calmed down again.  “I know everything there is to know about you.  I know you inside and out.  I knew you were going to yell for help. I knew you were going to have a breakdown in the trunk.  I knew you were going to realize your privileges were gone.  I knew you were going to cry in my lap like this.”  

             “Then why?”  You looked up at him.  “Tell me. Please.”

              “I can’t do that Doll.”  Bucky put a finger under your chin.  “You have to figure it out for yourself.  But I can help you.  Everything I do is to help you.”  

              Your brains were mush and your head was swimming.  He didn’t make sense but also covered you in a wave of clarity.  

             “Help me.”  You blinked away tears.  “Please.”

             “Always.”  His lips were on yours in a second and he pushed you from his lap to the mattress, settling between your thighs.  

             The roughness of his jeans made you whine as he rubbed his cock through his pants against your slit.  Bucky bit your tongue, making you squeal into his mouth.   Pain radiated through your mouth, but spread down your body, making your pussy pulse.  Why did it have to feel so good?  

             No. That was the wrong question.  Why did you fight the sensation?  Enjoy it.  You relaxed underneath him and brought your hands to his shoulders.  He sensed your submission and went to his waist, undoing his jeans and freeing his cock.

             “You don’t deserve this.”  He ran the head over your slickness.  “Tell me. Beg for me.”

              “Please.  You’re right. I don’t deserve any part of you, but I need you.  Please, I need you so badly! It hurts.  Everything hurts without you.  Please, I need you inside of me.”  

             When you said me Bucky blessed you with his cock, sliding right inside of you with ease.  You were made for each other, the way he owned your body was heaven.  Why did you ever fight it?  

             “Such a bad girl Doll.”  Bucky thrust deep.  His hands found your wrists and pinned them next to your head, holding them much harder than he needed to.  “So disappointed in you.”  

             “I want to be better.”  You rocked your hips to meet his, dragging your clit along his body.  “Please. I do.”

             “I know Doll.”  He grunted. “I know exactly what you want. What you need.”  

             He did not hold back as he fucked you, throwing the entire weight of his body into each pump.  Slamming into you until you were certain your lower half would be covered in bruises. But you didn’t care.  You didn’t care about how hard he was going, you were taking him in stride.  Your cries and moans mixing into one.  

             “Are you going to behave for me?  Be my perfect angel?”  Bucky glared down at you.  

             You nodded.  

             “Then start now.”  He grunted as he stilled inside of you, his pelvis pushed against your sore flesh. He started moving up and down, smashed against your clit.  “Cum.  Cum right now.”  

             You began moving your hips frantically, creating the friction needed to send you over the edge.   It was blissful.  The euphoria spreading as you screamed out, your pussy buzzing and clit pulsating. You did not deserve this man.  

             Once you came down from your high Bucky kissed your forehead.  Then he started thrusting again, this time slow. You felt every centimeter of him.

             “I am going to show you, how much I love you Doll.”  Bucky lowered himself back in.  “I am going to show you all night long.”  

             You were already sore and couldn’t help but whimper and tense.  

              “I am going to show you that there is no reason for you to ever leave me.” He pressed his body against your swollen nub making you cry out.  “I am going to show you things you never knew possible.”  

             Your heart raced and you didn’t know if it was from fear or anticipation.  And for the first time, you didn’t care.

[clarasimone]

Iain Glen nailing Hamlet (1991)

In 1991, after winning the Evening Standard Film Award for Best Actor, Iain Glen gave his soulful all, not on the stage in London, no, not yet, though really he could have, but at the Old Vic in Bristol, donning the persona of the Dane, Hamlet. He won the Special Commendation Ian Charleson Award* for his performance and yet it appears we will never see but stills from this production as no video recording was made, not even by and for the company. The University of Bristol has the archives of the production: the playbook, the programme and black and white stills. The V&A archives have the administrative papers. In our day and age, this sad evanescent corporeal sate of affairs is unimaginable. The memory of the play, of this performance fading away? We rebel against the very thought. We brandish our cell phones and swear we shall unearth and pirate its memory, somehow, somewhere. Even if we have to hypnotize patrons or pull out the very hearts of those who saw Iain Glen on stage, those few, those happy few, to read into their very memory and pulsating membrane just how brilliant he was. Because he was, he was. That’s what they’ll all tell you... 

Below, those pics and testimonies....

*(The Charleson Awards were established in memory of Ian Charleson, who died at 40 from Aids while playing Hamlet at the National Theatre in 1989)

- Iain Glen is a rampaging prince, quixotic, technically sound, tense as a coiled spring, funny. ‘To be, or not to be’ results from throwing himself against the white walls, an air of trembling unpredictability is beautifully conveyed throughout. ‘Oh, what a rogue and peasants slave’ is blindingly powerful. My life is drawn in angrily modern post Gielgud Hamlets: David Warner, Nicol Williams, Visotsky, Jonathon Price. Iain Glen is equal to them. He keeps good company. THE OBSERVER, Michael Coveney

- Paul Unwin’s riveting production reminded me more strongly than any I have ever seen that the Danish Court is riddled with secrecy. Politics is a form of hide and seek: everyone stealthily watches everyone else. Iain Glen’s Hamlet is a melancholic in the clinical sense: his impeccable breeding and essential good nature keep in check what might be an approaching breakdown. His vitriolic humour acts as a safety valve for a nagging instability, his boyish charm is deployed to placate and deceive a hostile and watchful world. Glen brings out Hamlet’s fatal self absorption: the way he cannot help observing himself and putting a moral price tag on every action and failure. He is a doomed boy. And his chill but touching calm at the end is that of a man who has finally understood the secrets behind the closed doors. The Sunday Times, John Peter

- This is an excellent production of Hamlet from the Bristol Old Vic. The director Paul Unwin and his designer Bunnie Christie have set the play in turn of the century Europe. Elsinore is a palace of claustrophobically white walls and numerous doors. All this is handled with a light touch, without drawing attention away from the play. Our first encounter with Hamlet shows him bottled up with rage and grief. Glen gives a gripping performance. The self-dramatising side of the character is tapped to the full by this talented actor. The Spectator, Christopher Edwards

**************************************************************************************************

The following though is my favorite review/article because it situates Iain Glen’s creation is time, in the spectrum of all renowned Hamlets.

How will Cumberbatch, TV’s Sherlock, solve the great mystery of Hamlet? by Michael Coveney - Aug 17, 2015

In 1987, three years before he died, the critic and venerable Shakespearean JC Trewin published a book of personal experience and reminiscence: Five and Eighty Hamlets. I’m thinking of supplying a second volume, under my own name, called Six and Fifty Hamlets, for that will be my total once Benedict Cumberbatch has opened at the Barbican.

There’s a JC and MC overlap of about 15 years: Trewin was a big fan of Derek Jacobi’s logical and graceful prince in 1977 and ended with less enthusiastic remarks about “the probing intelligence” of Michael Pennington in 1980 (both Jacobi and Pennington were 37 when they played the role; Cumberbatch is 39) and emotional pitch and distraction of Roger Rees in 1984 (post-Nickleby, Rees was 40, but an electric eel and ever-youthful).

I started as a reviewer in 1972 with three Hamlets on the trot: the outrageous Charles Marowitz collage, which treats Hamlet as a creep and Ophelia as a demented tart, and makes exemplary, equally unattractive polar opposites of Laertes and Fortinbras; a noble, stately Keith Michell (with a frantic Polonius by Ron Moody) at the Bankside Globe, Sam Wanamaker’s early draft of the Shakespearean replica; and a 90-minute gymnastic exercise performed by a cast of eight in identical chain mail and black breeches at the Arts Theatre.

This gives an idea of how alterable and adaptable Hamlet has been, and continues to be. There are contestable readings between the Folios, any number of possible cuts, and there is no end of choice in emphasis. Trewin once wrote a programme note for a student production directed by Jonathan Miller in which he said that the first scene on the battlements (“Who’s there?”) was the most exciting in world drama; the scene was cut.

And as Steven Berkoff pointed out in his appropriately immodestly titled book I Am Hamlet (1989), Hamlet doesn’t exist in the way Macbeth, or Coriolanus, exists; when you play Hamlet, he becomes you, not the other way round. Hamlet, said Hazlitt, is as real as our own thoughts.

Which is why my three favourite Hamlets are all so different from each other, and attractive because of the personality of the actor who’s provided the mould for the Hamlet jelly: my first, pre-critical-days Hamlet, David Warner (1965) at the Royal Shakespeare Company, was a lank and indolently charismatic student in a long red scarf, exact contemporary of David Halliwell’s Malcolm Scrawdyke, and two years before students were literally revolting in Paris and London; then Alan Cumming (1993) with English Touring Theatre, notably quick, mercurial and very funny, with a detachable doublet and hose, black Lycra pants and bovver boots, definitely (then) the glass of fashion, a graceful gender-bender like Brett Anderson of indie band Suede; and, at last, Michael Sheen (2011) at the Young Vic, a vivid and overreaching fantasist in a psychiatric institution (“Denmark’s a prison”), where every actor “plays” his part.

These three actors – Warner, Cumming, Sheen – occupy what might be termed the radical, alternative tradition of Hamlets, whereas the authoritative, graceful nobility of Jacobi belongs to the Forbes Robertson/John Gielgud line of high-ranking top drawer ‘star’ turns, a dying species and last represented, sourly but magnificently, by Ralph Fiennes (1995) in the gilded popular palace of the Hackney Empire. Fiennes, like Cumberbatch, has the sort of voice you might expect a non-radical, traditional Hamlet to possess.

But if you listen to Gielgud on tape, you soon realise he wasn’t ‘old school’ at all. He must have been as modern, at the time, as Noel Coward. Gielgud is never ‘intoned’ or overtly posh, he’s quicksilver, supple, intellectually alert. I saw him deliver the “Oh what a rogue and peasant slave” soliloquy on the night the National left the Old Vic (February 28, 1976); he had played the role more than 500 times, and not for 37 years, but it was as fresh, brilliant and compelling as if he had been making it up on the spot.

Ben Kingsley, too, in 1975, was a fiercely intelligent Royal Shakespeare Company Hamlet, and I saw much of that physical and mental power in David Tennant’s, also for the RSC in 2008, with an added pinch of mischief and irony. There’s another tradition, too, of angry Hamlets: Nicol Williamson in 1969, a scowling, ferocious demon; Jonathan Pryce at the Royal Court in 1980, possessed by the ghost of his father and spewing his lines, too, before finding Yorick’s skull in a cabinet of bones, an ossuary of Osrics; and a sourpuss Christopher Ecclestone (2002), spiritually constipated, moody as a moose with a migraine, at the West Yorkshire Playhouse.

One Hamlet who had a little of all these different attributes – funny, quixotic, powerful, unhappy, clever and genuinely heroic – was Iain Glen (1991) at the Bristol Old Vic, and I can imagine Cumberbatch developing along similar lines. He, like so many modern Hamlets, is pushing 40 – as was Jude Law (2009), hoary-voiced in the West End – yet when Trevor Nunn cast Ben Whishaw (2004) straight from RADA, aged 23, petulant and precocious, at the Old Vic, he looked like a 16-year-old, and too young for what he was saying. It’s like the reverse of King Lear, where you have to be younger to play older with any truth or vigour.

Michael Billington’s top Hamlet remains Michael Redgrave, aged 50, in 1958, as he recounts in his brilliant new book, The 101 Greatest Plays (seven of the 101 are by Shakespeare); Hamlet, he says, more than any other play, alters according to time as well as place.

So, Yuri Lyubimov’s great Cold War Hamlet, the prince played by the dissident poet Vladimir Visotsky, was primarily about surveillance, the action played on either side of an endlessly moving hessian and woollen wall. And in Belgrade in 1980, shortly after the death of Tito, the play became a statement of anxiety about the succession.

There’s a mystery to Hamlet that not even Sherlock Holmes could solve, though Cumberbatch will no doubt try his darndest – even if he finds his Watson at the Barbican (Leo Bill is playing Horatio) more of a hindrance than a help; there are, after all, more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in his friend’s philosophy.

*************************************************************************************************

Oh! Did I say that we were never going to see Iain Glen in the skin of the great Dane? Tsk. How silly of me. Meet IG’s Hamlet in Tom Stoppard’s postmodern theatrical whimsy ROSENCRANTZ AND GUILDENSTERN ARE DEAD, shot the year before the Bristol play.

Though almost surreal and most often funny as the film follows the Pulp Fiction-like misadventures of two forgettable Shakespearian characters, crossing paths with other more or less fortunate characters, their time with Hamlet makes us privy to the Dane as we never quite see him in the Bard’s play... but for one memorable scene,  in which Iain Glen absolutely nails it, emoting the famous “To be or not to be” which you see tortures his soul, brings tears to his eyes and contorts his mouth; the moment made all the more memorable by the fact that it is a silent scene. You never hear him utter the famous line, but you see the words leave his lips and feel them mark your soul.

I’m kinda telling myself that it’s 1991 and I’m sitting in the Old Vic, in Bristol, not London. Not yet.

[purplelapislazuli]

I just saw on Twitter a girl saying "The sexual tension between me and my quarantine nurse..." And pics where the nurse always asks for her temperature and a selfie and obv she asks how is she... And... Imagine your OTP.... The potential

Imagine nurse Nicky being assigned to check on this gorgeous man that is under strict quarantine and every day he asks him for his temperature and a selfie (because he needs to confirm its Joe's temperature, not because he finds the man breathtaking, excuse you). Joe sends him cute gifs with the selfies and Nicky's responses are very sweet but he needs to keep it professional. Joe has never truly see the man but can feel himself slowly falling for him and it's dumb but he's always been a romantic.

One day Joe's feeling very bad and Nicky can immediately tell and advises him on what to do but Joe is like, "pls just keep me company" and Nicky fucking MELTS. They spend the whole day talking, Nicky making sure every now and then Joe drinks water and asks how he's feeling. But to distract him Nicky tells him about his job, about what he usually does and then he starts talking about his hobbies, his favorite books and they find out they have a lot in common. At the end of the day Joe is feeling much better, tired, but happier because he got to know Nicky better. He goes to sleep early and Nicky wishes him good night. Then he realises he did absolutely nothing except talking to Joe. Crap. He spends most of the night doing what he was supposed to do that morning and even though he is tired he immediately wakes up when he hears his phone's notification. It's Joe, he's awake and feeling a bit better. In the selfie he still has high temperature and looks terrible but has a thumbs up and is smiling. Nicky sends "I'm glad you're better :) How did you sleep last night? ❤️"

He then realizes he sent a fucking heart emoji and yeets the phone across the room, mortified.

Joe blushes and smiles like a high schooler whose crush finally talked to him and answers with another heart.

Nicky eventually retrieves his phone, after all checking on Joe is his job. He's relieved Joe didn't make fun of him and just sent him another heart. Okay. No big deal. The conversation keeps on going as if nothing happened. Because really, nothing has happened, it was just a slip, they're friends now, hearts are allowed, right??

Anyway, after the routinary how are you's they talk more and send eachother more emojis and gifs. "One of the advantages of covid is that since I can't taste anything I can eat anything". Joe says one day. "Joe, please tell me you're eating properly and taking care of yourself". "Of course I am, don't worry, I was talking about artichokes, I hate them but now I can eat them 😂"

"I spent the whole afternoon drawing, wanna see?" "I'd love to☺️"

"I watched the show you recommended me!!! It's SO good!!!!" "I knew you'd like it!!!!"

These conversations keep on going and Nicky is starting to look forward to them, always checking his phone in case Joe sent him something and smiling without meaning to. It's not unusual now that Joe sends him hearts and is very affectionate on his texts, increasing that warm feeling Nicky experiences everytime he opens their conversations.

Eventually, weeks pass and Joe finally gets well. He sends Nicky a selfie with his now normal temperature and a huge grin that could light up the entire sky. Nicky decides to send him back a congratulatory selfie. Joe almost drops his phone, in awe. Why did no one tell him that his nurse is not only caring, sweet, pacient, smart and brilliant but also extremely hot???? He spends the next ten minutes trying to find out what to respond while Nicky is really embarrassed because he finally sent a photo. Of him. To Joe.

After ten minutes of radio silence Nicky thinks of the worst but suddenly he receives a video call from Joe. Fumbling and trying not to drop his phone he answers the call, completely flustered and caught by surprise.

"Sorry, I just had to make sure you were real" Joe says.

"Well, I am" Nicky's smile is nervous and Joe's heart is about to explode.

There's a silence. Joe wants to say so many things but doesn't want to scare him away.

"So are you feeling completely fine?" Asks Nicky, going into nurse mode. They talk about Joe's health while he can't stop thinking about how cute Nicky is, how charming his accent is and how hard he is falling for this man.

Meanwhile Nicky can't stop looking at Joe, his eyes, his curls, his fucking smile and feels powerless, Joe's smile contagious.

They fall back into another nervous silence, both looking at eachother and smiling like idiots, Joe's hands itching to grab a sketchbook and draw Nicky's face because God knows when he'll see him again.

"God, you're cute". He says, breathless. Nicky laughs, suprised and Joe melts.

"You're cute too, you know?" Answers Nicky with a mischievous smile.

"So you didn't get tired of seeing my face every single morning?" Teases Joe. Nicky looks appalled.

"How can you say that?? Of course not! Those selfies were the highlight of my days". Nicky confesses. "I love your bedhead". He adds, in a whisper. And Joe is helpless before his honesty. How is he supposed to carry on with his life without Nicky? Without their daily conversations? He wants to ask him out so badly. But they can't go out, not in the middle of a pandemic right when he just passed covid and besides, isn't it too soon? They only know eachother from a couple of weeks. Fortunately Nicky immediately catches up

"What's wrong?" He asks and Joe sighs because how can he resists his voice? How can he not be honest and tell him his heart's most wanted desire?

"I know I'm not sick anymore but can we keep talking to each other?"

"Well, I was hoping we did. I wouldn't want to lose your friendship..."

"And can we build this friendship into something more...?" Joe didn't mean to say that out loud but he just did. Nicky looks at him surprised, and then he immediately smiles, a soft adoring look.

"I'd love to"

Joe's smile is so big his cheeks hurt and Nicky laughs. Joe wants to hear Nicky's laugh every single day for the rest of his life.

"You know, even if you hadn't ask now I would've done it anyway. I mean, it's unprofessional to ask a patient out so I was just waiting until all the paperwork was done". Nicky confesses and Joe has the audacity to look astonished. "Don't look at me like that!" Nicky is still laughing "You're fucking gorgeous, inside and outside, of course I was dying to ask you out!"

"And here I thought I was the one hopelessly in love!" Joe is trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably at it, too delighted to fake it.

"Well, I'm sorry, I was trying to be professional" Nicky is still laughing and Joe couldn't care less about anything. He's so fucking happy.

"It's okay, I'm just really happy. And please, thank whoever sent you to take care of me, I owe them not only my health, but my heart"

Nicky smiles softly again and Joe can't stop thinking about the fact that from now on he will be able to draw and see Nicky whenever he wants, no excuses needed. And they're both counting the days until they can finally meet in person.

[seriouslyblacklikemysoul]

Between the Shadow and the Soul - Hermione Granger x Draco Malfoy

Request: @cute-yet-dangerous could you write a fanfic where Hermione falls in love with Draco instead of Ron. You can choose the time-frame and the "ending" is up to you just like everything else ( though if you feel like it just a liiiitle bit of smut wouldn't be bad 😇) Thank you ❤

Warnings: My English, language. Gifs and pics aren't mine. Credits to their original owners. Also, I am very sorry if it’s not that great. 

A/N: Happy -early- Birthday, Ria. May your choices reflect your hopes, not your fears. Dare to live the life you have dreamed for yourself. Go forward and make your dreams come true.

Word Count ~2.6k+

MASTERLIST

Pending Requests

Falling in love was not rational. It was madness. A beautiful, wonderful moment of magnificent insanity. His sharp edges, somehow only made him softer in a way that she could never understand...not entirely. His broken heart only beat louder in the silence and it would be easier, to not love him if she didn’t know how bright his smile could be, if she didn’t know that his touch could be gentle... it would be easier, to not want to save him if she didn’t know how reassuring his words were, if she didn’t know that he’d sacrifice himself so she could live. One thing was for sure... It wouldn’t it make it easier for him, not to love her if she wasn't all those missing pieces that his soul was longing for.

She touched him and it was like war. The burning sensation in her bones overpowered her mind and her heart pounded like the drums that were calling soldiers to join, willingly, the bloodbath. It felt violent and visceral and she sensed some part of her was latching onto to his skin - a mark left on her for the stars to find when they would uncover their r sad, epic, poetic... mad story. He smiled at her and the stars became surpassed in what could bring her light. It was all teeth but there was a hint of joy in the way his mouth moved around her. The sun’s blaze turned to ash and she felt warm and wanted. She was living in the darkness until his grin found hers and from that moment, everything in her was created by his echoes.

Her voice became his compass, his true north. His voice was the one she could pick out in the middle of the crowd, in the middle of the battle because it was the map that led her home. The sound of his name coming off her lips was his anchor and without her voice, he would drown, down to the bottom of the endless ocean, and perhaps he deserved it but he was selfish and couldn't lose her too. Her eyes were dark enough to fall in. His eyes held the torment he had been through and she wished that she could heal his scars but she knew that she could only try to take away some of the ache. Her eyes would make the deities of the ancient world throw themselves into the pit to prevent any more loss. His eyes found hers and the colors of the universe seemed brighter, seemed softer, seemed more beautiful, seemed not enough to describe the flames that consumed them.

She loved him. That was what the pounding of her heart was singing. He loved her from this universe to the next one and the constellations would yearn to chart their story and the history books would place their names side by side and it will never be enough, because they loved each other and even after death, they would find their way back to each other's galaxies. It was all so brutally fake and honest at the same time. When she saw him for the very first time, she suddenly felt like the earth wasn't spinning on its axis but instead, somehow, he had conjured the stars and a whole new sky had replaced the old one. When he saw her, he began to question everything he was 'taught', every single socially constructed stereotype about her kind. What if things weren't just black or white? What if there were more?

But they clashed in a storm of fire and ice and it took them what seemed like a lifetime to realize that they had changed each other in a way that no one could ever suspect.

"You filthy little Mudblood" he hissed at her. She had grown used to it by now, but it still hurt her. Not because somebody was calling her that name - something that she would never hear in a civilized conversation - but because he was calling her that. The disappointment in her eyes cut him like a knife that kept twisting inside the wound. He, however, couldn't help it. It was the only wall that she hadn't managed to burn down to the ground. He had to appear cold, evil... pathetic as Potter had once called him. He was. He was so damn -

She kept her mouth shut but her eye spoke louder than any word could have. She didn't know what to think of him. She truly wanted to believe that somewhere within him, a better him was hidden. She had seen it - seen him being gentle and soft. Something extremely rare when it came to the Prince of Slytherin. 

The seasons succeeded one another in a constant, never-ending, cycle. He was growing all the more distant. She was growing all the more worried.

They say that love comes easy. It took breaking, sobbing in the middle of the night, screaming without muttering a word. It was painful yet beautifully chaotic, mesmerizing like the sky that made them think that they were just two more souls inside that vast and evergreen universe. It was an accidental meet under the velvet canvas and the magic of the Astronomy Tower. It was one night that changed destiny's path. It was that moment, where he saw her looking at him, not like she could save him, oh, no. She wasn't that much of a fool. She was aware that she couldn't save him, not like that. But she was able to recognize the shadows that were dancing on his skin, on his arm, the faint bruises and clenched fists and the ache inside his heart. And the world grew quiet as if it was giving this moment the weight it deserved. The moon was hidden behind dark clouds and the stars almost burnt out. And it was in the darkness that they realized they could change the universe. A single phrase made her head spin.

"I am sorry" he whispered. For the first time, he looked at her without removing his gaze. She wasn't prepared for anything like that. The next thing she knew was his hand tucking a loose strand behind her ear. What was happening?

"I get it. Just... be less your father and more...you. I think you are yet to discover how truly magnificent each person can be" she softly told him. She had found the courage to talk to him like that - or at all. He was a bit shocked but he smiled at her, melancholy spreading through her veins. It wasn't a happy smile. She had never seen him happy. She forgot to ask logic, instead listened to emotions and offered him her cup of tea. A mixture of black and green with caramel and almond which was always able to calm her down and keep her company through endless nights. He was never shown any kind of sympathy and he truly believed he didn't deserve it - especially from her. But he was grateful.

They sat there, in silence at first, staring at the almost fairytale-like sky. As soon as they started talking, things could never go back to black and white. And it wasn't until a certain potion that they started to realize what was truly going on. It was just... not expected. They kept meeting each other every other night, talking or not, drinking tea or not, staring at the sky or at each other. But not that night. He was angry. Furious. Mainly because he didn't want to feel the way he did. Every time he saw her, something inside him was dying but in a good - a very good- and a bad - very bad- way.

"Why are you pretending? You grew tired of being called mudblood and you felt sorry for me? What are you playing at?" he feverishly accused her before her eyes made him weak again. Her eyebrows shot to the sky.

"Excuse me? Where is this coming from?" she fired back. She hadn't heard him calling her that in a very long time and it felt so...bitter. He knew that he was lashing out and she had done nothing wrong. Just because he had a mission that the Dark Lord had assigned him... He had screwed up his entire life. She saw the change in his eyes. She understood that something wasn't quite alright but she had also figured him out. He would try to hide it.

"I'm sorry. I'll just go to bed. Goodnight" he stiffly informed her and ran off. Literally. 

It was probably the worst decision she had ever made. It was probably the one thing she did right in her entire life. She wasn't thinking as she walked towards the Slytherin's dormitories. She was fully aware that it was forbidden by not only the rules but herself as well. Yet, she did it anyway. Thankfully, the common room was empty and thanks to Lucius' cockiness, Draco had his own dorm. Right before she knocked his door, she froze. What on earth was she about to do? She wasn't this person. She didn't do things... spontaneously. She was organized and had plans and goals and ... she thought she had her life figured out. That whatever she had planned would work out exactly the way she had imagined. Draco, on the other hand... he showed her what different meant. How not possible to plan your life was. He made her question her existence and everything she was standing up for. He showed her that things may not always be what the seem to. With her heart pounding in her chest, she just opened the door and walked in, ignoring every single rule. "You’ve felt it, haven’t you? Those feelings that seem to get so big in your chest, like something is so beautiful it aches?" she asked him before he could even register her presence in his room. "Go away. Please" he murmured, not once looking at her. He knew that if she stayed a bit longer in the room, if her perfume mixed with the air for just a second more, things would get out of hand. He craved her in a way he never believed possible. He bushy hair, sparkly eyes, and that beautifully chaotic mind... made him feel things he... didn't even know existed.

"No" she firmly answered, standing her ground. She knew how he felt because she was experiencing the same. He wasn't able to think before acting upon his feelings. He got up from his bed and pinned her against the cold wall of his room, in a matter of seconds.

"I told you to leave" he threatened her but his voice latched on to her like satin. "And I told you, no" she deadpanned but it was a mere whisper. It was now or never. He just crushed his lips against hers and that moment all the voices in his head stopped talking. And Merlin, her taste was intoxicating him - a hint of chocolate mixed with tea. It started out as angry and heated kiss but it slowly became gentle and kind and... they both had poured their hearts into. He carefully swept her hair off her neck and she gave a sharp intake of breath at his unexpected kiss. She would be lying if she was to say she hadn't thought about that moment over and over again. There was an urgency to his kiss, making her feel wanted and utterly desirable. His hands roamed her body, starting at her neck, running down her back until he grabbed her hips and pulled them closer to him. The thought of what followed terrified her but also excited her, it made her go weak at the knees. Her heart was beating furiously now and so was his. He took a step back, looking at her with a burning question in his eyes.

"I have felt it. I feel it every time I think of you. And trust me, the thought of you... doesn't leave my mind" he spoke softly of things she craved to hear. He kissed her again, but this time it was gentler with the need and desire more evident. Her hands found their way and got lost in his hair, roamed his back and her fingers fumbled with the buttons on his shirt but soon it just fell to the floor, revealing his pale and glorious torso. It came so naturally that it actually scared them but also made them realize how foolishly they had wasted so much time, hating each other. He took her hand and led her to his bed with soft and elegant moves. She wasn't even feeling awkward or anxious. She wanted this. With him. His mouth was everywhere, kissing her and undressing her at the same time. She was tracing patterns on his body when he slightly bit her behind her ear, making her question what was real and what was not. There was something else... She could actually breathe within the fire he had brought to her. He was a walking contradiction, a puzzle and she loved getting lost in a riddle. They just fell asleep afterwards, with her wrapped inside his arms. 

Things were not good. They hadn't even talked to each other. He ignored her and she put on her facade. Months passed them by. They had stopped visiting the Astronomy Tower. She thought that the stars stayed silent at their turning point because they didn't just want to watch them and witness their journey. No, they wanted to test infinity. Death Eaters and The Order. Good and Evil, supposedly. There were no good guys. They weren't able to break free from destiny. Not as fast as they would like. But what the stars hadn't quite understood was that loving each other had stopped being something that scared them. Therefore, the longing glances, the nights filled with tears and sorrow, the pain that became physical after a while. She had lost him to time and space, nearly to fate but he was going to grow as a fighter soon enough. He would come back to her. He felt it deep in his bones that their devotion to one another was greater than those of the fairytales because they were never guaranteed a happy ending, instead they had bent every galaxy to make that beautiful 'them' work out. But it didn't... Not yet. Lives were like lines. And some times, if people we're lucky enough, those line crossed paths. There, however, some exceptionally few... and their lines crossed paths over and over again. She always knew that in a crowd of thousands she would be able to meet his eyes and find you. He knew that the moment her name dropped from his lips, the story would begin again. They had to wait. Quite a while. They had to be tested by war and blood and other people. Just when they were both ready to give up, their lines crossed paths in the most unexpected way. No one was surprised in the slightest when Hermione decided to go back to Hogwarts... but everyone was left stunned by Draco's return.

Once their eyes met, their hearts were revived. Some emotions couldn't go away.

This time, the stars were in their favor. This time, they would be. No more wars and battles to fight, no more villains, no more heroes. Just them, picking up from where they had left off. Somewhere between the Shadow and the Soul. “Hermione...” his soft and shaky voice, his pained yet hopeful eyes, gave her purpose again. To live again. And be happy. 

“Draco”.

Tags: @orionsirivsblack @kapolisradomthoughts @nadinissavage @geeksareunique

[artificialqueens]

If There Is Such A Thing (Katya/Violet)- Fryshook

Casual routine can only be casual for so long.

AN: One may be inclined to consider this a sequel to Gutted, but I’m not gonna tell you what to do.

Additional notes can be found on Ao3.

Violet was in California, watching snapchats of snowfall in New York from what they had come to consider their side of Katya’s bed. It was hard to pay attention, however, with Katya huffing and lolling his head around restlessly next to them.

“What’s wrong now?” Violet said, monotone, not looking up from their phone. “What’s wrooong, poodle?” They reached over to stroke the other queen’s wild hair. Katya leaned into Violet’s touch and sighed.

“Can I be real with you for a second?” he whispered, holding Violet’s wrist. Violet nodded, putting their phone down. “I want to be in love.”

“You’re so old-fashioned.”

“I know.”

“Moping about love when you got a hot piece of ass in your bed.”

Katya snorted, reaching under the covers to squeeze the ass in question.

“I love you,” he said, his voice deep and creepy. Violet rolled their eyes and groaned.

“Don’t start with this shit…”

“I do,” Katya sat up, looming over the lounging queen, running his hand down their narrow chest, stopping to dig his fingers into Violet’s hipbone. “Darling,” he smiled as his hand went lower. “how many times do I have to say it? I am completely… Utterly… Lustfully–”

Violet poked him hard in the ribs, earning a pained yelp from the other queen. Katya flopped back to his side of the bed, rubbing his sore side.

“Then why the fuck you moping, bitch?”

“Because!” Katya shot an irritated look at Violet, who shrugged, like, you asked for it, pal. “Christ. You know what I mean. This,” he waved his hand, “is wonderful and all, until you hop back on that plane, probably in the middle of the night, again, while I’m sound asleep, leaving me to fend for myself in a sea of thirsty, drunken… social media mavens…”

“Poor thing,” Violet said, watching Katya get lost in thought for a moment. Violet rolled their eyes and sat up to plant a kiss on his cheek. Katya caught them before they could pull away.

They had been doing this for a while, now.

Violet liked – no, Violet loved that they could spend the night, or a weekend, or nearly an entire fucking month with Katya doing truly insane things, and then go home thousands of miles away and never once worry about him becoming possessive, or weird, or crazy. Beyond the usual, at least. The only real drawback of their situation, really, were the hours of Violet’s young life they had sacrificed listening to Katya fret about Trixie Mattel and the string of flighty geeks who kept letting her down.

“It’ll never last,” Katya would say, every time, shaking his head and staring out in the distance at some lonely pink dystopia Violet could only imagine. “He doesn’t get her. I can tell.”

“Jesus Christ,” Violet would mutter. “Just go fuck her, already.”

And every time Violet said this, Katya would give them the same exasperated look and say: “Don’t be stupid. Trixie has standards, unlike some people.”

And Violet would curse and laugh with Katya until they couldn’t, usually because Katya’s tongue was in their mouth.

Back in bed, Violet wrapped their long arms around him, breaking their kiss to mumble something against the older queen’s shoulder.

“What was that?” Katya asked, dropping a kiss on top of Violet’s head.

“Don’t make me say it again,” Violet sighed. So he didn’t.

*

Violet didn’t think much of it when they did, eventually, go home and start this thing of sending Katya random selfies throughout the week. Always with a clever caption, of course. Sometimes Violet quoted poets and great thinkers, like T.S. Eliot and Lana Del Rey, if they felt their words properly reflected the beauty of said selfie. The thoughtful captioning may or may not have been a Katya-exclusive practice.

And sometimes Katya would respond - always something gross and/or weird, and never sexy (except, maybe, the dick pic with the tiny plastic hands wrapped around his boner (Violet was still deconstructing their feelings about that one) - and that was that.

It did occasionally lead to some awkward moments. Like when Violet’s trade noticed the camera and tried to squeeze into frame.

“Could you, um,” Violet waved their hand dismissively at one such guy who’d followed them home from the venue. He was pretty and stupid, but they had both orgasmed over a half hour ago and Violet wasn’t sure what the hold up was. “Move?”

“Um,” the guy - Ike? Ivan? - blinked, hanging off the edge of the bed. Violet stared at him, waiting.

“Look… babe,” Violet began, “that was great. Really fun. But you’re in my light.”

“Oh,” Ike-or-Ivan grunted. “Okay. Can we at least take a selfie? You said we could at the club, but then…”

Violet rolled their eyes and sighed. “Okay,” they said, “but it has to be the double dog filter and then you have to get the fuck out.”

*

Violet stopped sending the pictures when they heard that Katya had started pursuing some hot young artist in NYC who made erotic sculptures out of animal teeth, or some shit. They weren’t jealous of the relationship, whether it was real or not – there had been plenty of attempts between the two of them – They were just a little… irritated, with the fact that Katya had the nerve to be very visibly dating, of all things, a fetish artist in New York fucking City.

Perturbed was maybe the better term. Irked? Violet was irked when they saw Katya snapchatting from the studio, or posing over a ramen bowl with the handsome European fucker, and all they could hear in their head was that phony Russian idiot saying: I want to be in love.

Ugh, Violet thought, tapping through Katya’s 520 second snap story. I need to get laid.

*

“It’s okay to be sad,” Pearl said one day over coffee. They were on a plane headed west and Violet had quickly veered their conversation to a new topic once Pearl began listing the familiar faces she was planning to see in L.A.

Violet looked at her. “Sad about what?”

“That guy Katya’s seeing.” Violet’s eyes narrowed.

“Why would I be sad about that? Good for her.”

“Well,” Pearl drawled, “you’re definitely not happy about it…” Violet rolled their eyes, returning to their Twitter feed. “If it makes you feel any better,” Pearl said, “I did hear that Katya dicked down some clingy bilingual twunk in Austin last week. So it must not be that serious.”

Violet stared at Pearl.

“Clingly twunk, huh?”

Pearl nodded.

“Oh, Pearl,” Violet muttered. “You always know what to say.” Pearl smirked and patted Violet’s knee.

“There, there, buttercup…”

*

Monday night at Micky’s. Katya would be there. He never missed it.

Pearl slipped away to go catch up with Detox, leaving Violet to play it cool by the stage while they waited to see that stupid idiot walk in.

They were about to give up and go find Pearl when they heard a head-rattling cackle float through the door.

Violet stared at Katya for a few minutes, waiting to catch those bright eyes, before finally pulling out their phone and sending a text: bitch have u been wearing that damn shirt for a week straight?

They watched from across the room as Katya read the message, lifted his head up and just like that, spotted Violet across the room. Laser accuracy.

Katya grinned. Violet tried to stay cool, but they couldn’t help themself; it felt like their face was broken open.

Violet didn’t make their way to Katya, though. They’d come this far; It was Katya’s turn, now.

They stood their ground by the stage as Katya disengaged from his entourage, dodging a couple drunk fans as he cut his path to the young queen. Violet held their arms out for a hug and Katya leaped into them, wrapping his legs around Violet’s waist. Violet howled, gripping the dead weight of him for a moment before letting him down.

Violet made a show of looking around. “Where’s the bratwurst?”

“Franz?“ Katya laughed. “Franz is home.”

Violet swallowed a little vomit and pointed to the ground, mouthing, “here?”

Katya looked at Violet quizzically, shaking his head, thumbing East.

Ah.

“Too bad,” Violet said, “I’m dying to meet him.”

It was as if Violet had never left. They kiki’d hard; they discussed work and Trixie Mattel’s love life (which was much more optimistic these days, thank you very much), and brutally read each other until Violet let their gaze, their lips, their hands linger and Katya finally said, “I’m ready to go home, now,” and Violet nodded, their hand warm in Katya’s grip.

*

In the dark of Katya’s apartment, Violet said, “I missed you,” and Katya smiled into the skin of their neck, “I can’t believe how much I fucking missed you.”

“I can,” Katya said, his hand crawling up Violet’s thigh.

*

“Who’s that?” Violet asked, when the texts started coming and didn’t stop.

“The bratwurst,” Katya said, grabbing his phone off the nightstand. “He misses me.”

“So it’s true,” Violet drawled, suddenly uncomfortable. Too much light shined in on this side of the bed from the window. Violet didn’t remember that, and now it was giving them a headache. “Katya has finally found that great love she’s been looking for…”

“He’s… sweet,” Katya replied after a moment. “Good heart. Beautiful dick.” He cast a quick glance at Violet, who was pretending to read their twitter feed. Katya returned his attention to his text. “You would like him.”

“I don’t,” Violet said simply with a shrug. “He sucks. Fuck him.”

“He does, and I do.” When Violet didn’t laugh, or react at all to this response, Katya studied the young queen for a moment and added, quietly: “What are… why are we doing this?”

“What? What’s the matter?” Now Violet felt that trademark Chachki Petulance™ start to take hold and sniffed, “Afraid Franz isn’t gonna like you traipsing off to fuck an old friend once in awhile? Well,” Violet scrolled their phone aggressively, not really seeing anything but red, “Doesn’t really sound like a healthy modern relationship to me, Barb.”

Katya was staring at Violet, now, concern etched into his features. “He doesn’t mind,” he said, and Violet felt a pang at the idea that Katya had asked permission, or even told this guy about their… thing, at all. It was a strange sensation that they hadn’t felt in years. “If he did,” Katya continued, cupping Violet’s cheek and turning them to face him, “I wouldn’t be seeing him. I thought you understood that.”

Violet was quiet for a moment before finally saying, “I don’t.” They searched Katya’s eyes, not even caring how fucking ridiculous they sounded. “I don’t understand anything anymore.”

Katya had never looked at Violet like that before. He held their face in his hand, Violet’s jaw twitching in his grasp, before letting his grip slip to the back of their neck.

After a long moment, Katya said, “Okay,” and leaned in close. “Let me explain, then. As clearly as I can.”

He kissed Violet, who held him in place, clinging tighter than they intended.

“Je suis moi,” Katya began, moving to Violet’s cheek, to their jaw. “Et tu es tu,” their neck. “Et nous sommes nous,” Collar bone. “Et nous voici…”

“Idiot,” Violet sighed.

“…and I want that.”

Violet knew they were supposed to laugh, or swear, or something; but they couldn’t do any of that because a dangerous burning sensation seared their eyes. They took Katya’s face in their hands and brought him down to lay his head on their chest, holding him there as they drew a ragged breath.

“Brian,” Violet said, the emotion in their voice mangling his simple name.

Katya didn’t move. He stayed where he was, Violet’s hand in his hair, their heart hammering against his ear, and said, “I know.”