'small whispers and the passing by of the dead of winter'

stardew valley gothic

• the time passes so quickly yet so slowly. it’s been a week, it’s been months, it’s been years. you do not age. nobody ages. the children don’t grow up. you start forgetting everything about your life before. you live here. you’ve always lived here.
• when it rains, you hear strange faraway howls and screams that fill you with primal terror. you never stay outside for long on rainy days.
• your crops grow within days. you plant seeds in the ground. ten days later, the fields are overgrown with corn.
• you find things when you dig in the dirt. roots, clay, stone. books. skulls that don’t look like they belong to any animal you know.
• there are only two channels on tv. the weather and the fortune teller. it doesn’t matter when you turn it on, the weather program is only just starting. “it will be sunny tomorrow” the weatherman says with empty eyes and a too-wide smile. you flip to the fortune teller’s channel. “the spirits are in a bad mood today” she says, “be careful”. you shiver, and decide not to go to the mines today.
• have you always been so strong? you can chop down a tree in minutes and you can carry hundreds of stones in your backpack.
• you wake up at exactly 6 every morning. you can’t wake up earlier, or later.
• sometimes your scarecrows are not planted where they were yesterday.
• you hear whispers in the old community center. you can almost see something indiscernable out of the corner of your eye. you bring offerings, hoping to appease the spirits.
• today it’s winter. you swear two days ago it was summer.
• the berries you found in the woods have a strange metallic taste. their juices stain your mouth red. you keep eating them anyway.
• nobody ages. nobody ages. nobody ages. what year is it?
• you keep bringing offerings in the old community center. honey, milk, wine, peaches, dead animals. there are never enough offerings.
• the fruit bats that live in the small cave near your house leave fruit for you. they bring you out of season fruit, exotic fruit, fruit that comes from halfway across the world, fruit that you’ve never seen before.
• the wizard granted you the power to understand the spirits that live in the old community center. now you wish he hadn’t.
• every night when you get home, you lock the door and close the windows. every morning when you wake up, your cat is somehow inside the house.
• the train passes through stardew valley sometimes, but never stops. you can hear howls coming from it.
• you try talking to the people in the village, but they always seem to be repeating the same things. “do you have any blueberries?”, asks lewis for the 14th time this month.
• there are things in the mines. don’t go into the mines.
• “we’re insulated from the rest of the world here” says demetrius. now that you think of it, you have never received a letter or a phone call from the outside world. is there even an outside world?
• there is a bath house, north of the town. there is never anyone there, but the electricity works and the water runs. when you enter the locker room, there is a bathing suit just your size waiting for you. the water in the big bath is milky. you can’t see the bottom. you enter it anyway. when you exit, you feel happy and energised. you have nothing to worry about. come back soon!
• the bus to calico desert is out of service. the road to calico desert is out of service. do not go to calico desert. do not ask about calico desert. do no think about calico desert. there is no calico desert.
• you are out late at night, gathering berries. at exactly two am, something knocks you out. you wake up in your bed the following morning. don’t think about it. go to sleep.
• you try staying up past two am the following night, only to be knocked out again. go to sleep. go to sleep. go to sleep.
• you have been here for a couple of weeks, or maybe for decades. nothing changes. you can’t die. you can’t die. you can’t die.

cold coffee. (m)

pairing: jungkook | reader

genre: smut

word count: 4,564

description: “I wasn’t referring to verbal truth. I was referring to,” and then there was a brief pause that was followed by a light press to the center of your stomach. Your back laid flat against the wooden bench before the predatory loom of his figure appeared overhead, “Candor of the body. Which you, my love, are the absolute queen of.”

cr.


With an exchanged swipe, taste forthcoming as the two of you had intended. Too sweet, muttered against your lips – lips that curved into ones of amusement at his feigned disfavor for your particular arrangement of the poison. Too bitter, slipped past your teeth in retort, the air of the syllables brushing against his breath; a dance of icy exhales in a burning winter night. His mouth twitched at that, following your suit into similar enjoyment of the playful critique.

“Maybe not my coffee, but sweet in other aspects, no?” He spoke in a devilish dialect of insinuation and lust; one that, before encountering him, was unfamiliar to you. Adoration, it managed to claw at your chest with great vigor each and every time he glanced down at you through darkened tufts of raven hair. His words wrapping their way around you entirely until they sounded of music. The notes gliding across your bones as his voice conducted your motions.

Keep reading

Cleanse

Bucky x reader

Notes: WARNING! physical abuse, threats, protective Bucky, fluff. 

A/N: I found this little thing hanging around on my phone. It’s a little dark, but fluffy too. 

Originally posted by wintersthighs

1 new text message from Y/N, 10:23 PM:

‘Bucky, can you please come over?’

Bucky checked his phone when he heard the familiar sound of an incoming message. His brow furrowed at the sight.

“Gotta go” he mumbled hurriedly, and jumped up, grabbing his coat as he ran out the door to the elevator.

“Hey! Where are you goin’? Thought we were going out!” Sam yelled after him; but the elevator doors already closed.

“Don’t take it personally, Sam. It’s probably Y/N” Steve quipped with a smirk.

Keep reading

Haunting Me (Chap. 2)

A/N: eeeeek! chapter 2 is here and it gets wild as heck guys! This chapter was so freakin’ fun to write, I kind of remixed the whole winter soldier movie plot to fit this in just right and I hope you guys like it! ENJOY! - Delilah ❤️


Pairing: Bucky Barnes x POC Reader

Haunting Me: Y/N is a normal young adult living in New York, but little does she know that she’s a reincarnation of the long lost Bucky Barnes’ fiance from the 1940′s. What happens when she runs into Steve in 2012? Most importantly, what happens when she runs into The Winter Soldier?

Warnings: Violence. Angst. Some people get shot. Kidnapping. Feels. 


You sat in the backseat of Natasha’s Porsche, listening as Steve explained the plan to you.

It wasn’t very thorough as you imagined it would be, but it was way better than Sam’s plan, which was to get Tony Stark involved. Apparently, this was a super top secret mission, one the millionaire had no business knowing about. You rolled your eyes as Steve explained to you that you would leave the minute the fighting started.

“I don’t see why,” Natasha chimed in, smirking over at Steve. “She’s a big girl.”

“Last I checked everyone in this car had military training except for Y/N.” He pressed, buckling the buckle on his helmet.

You scoffed; you were more than capable of handling your own, but as much as you hated to admit, this Winter Soldier had the same serum as Steve. Which meant he could probably break you in half with minimal to no effort. You liked being able to walk, thank you very much.

You gazed out of the window next to you, watching the scenery go by with each turn. Steve was doing better, which put you at ease for now. You still had no idea what would happen once the four of you arrived at the base. You were beyond concerned now. 

You looked back over to Steve, who was preoccupied by the shield in his hands, fiddling with it anxiously. When you turned back around, you were met with a pair of black goggles and a heavily masked face. 

Before you could scream, the man brought his fist forward and busted through the window. 

Natasha swerved erratically, trying to avoid the many cars in front of her as the man began punching holes through the roof of the car. You screamed when you felt a metal hand grab ahold of your shirt and tug forcefully, ripping the material. 

“Y/N!” Steve exclaimed, his eyes wide with fear. 

Natasha slammed on the breaks, causing the man to fly off the hood and tumble onto the concrete. 

“Everybody out!” she screamed, gathering her pistols. You exited the car, holding the small pistol in your hand. You’ve never shot a gun before, and you were mentally kicking yourself for never asking Steve to teach you. Sam expanded his wings and began soaring into the air towards the masked man. 

You watched as Natasha and Steve sprinted towards the man, dodging the spray of bullets gracefully. You, on the other hand, ducked behind a car and aimed your pistol. 

“It’s not that hard, right?” you whispered to yourself, your legs trembling as you closed one of your eyes and aligned the barrel of the gun with the man’s head. “It’s just like Call of Duty!” you laughed nervously. 

One of the hydra agents pulled out a missile launcher and aimed it right at the car. Steve immediately ran towards you, holding his shield in his front of him. The missile hit the shield directly, sending him flying over the edge of the bride. Once you saw Natasha get hit violently by the man’s metal arm, sending her flying into the side of a car, you closed your eyes. 

And you fired. 

When you opened them again, the masked man was on the ground. You perked up from behind the car, your eyes wide with shock and your mouth turned upward into a triumphant grin. You felt your heart beating wildly in your chest as you stared at the man from afar. Your smile faded as soon as you saw the man moving. 

He sat up, rolling onto his hands and knees, before standing up completely. From where you stood, you could see the bullet lodged in the lense of his goggles that were shielding his eyes. 

Uh oh. 

You backed away slowly as he glared at you. His eyes focused on yours, taking in your features. His head slowly cocked to the side as he stared you down. You stood frozen in the middle of the street, completely unsure what to do. 

“Cолдат!” Soldier!

The hydra agent behind him shouted at him angrily in Russian, aiming his own gun at you as well. You felt your heart skipping beats in your chest as you watched the man approach the soldier. 

Fucking shit!” you cursed, taking a step back. 

Instantly, the man’s eyes widened at the sound of your voice. His eyes became frantic, his breaths came out in short, rapid huffs. He shook his head, as if to rid himself of some evil-like thoughts. The gun in his hand dropped to the ground as he clutched his head. 

“Солдат, закончи свою миссию!” Soldier, finish your mission!

You watched in horror as the masked man unsheathed a black blade and in one move, slit the man’s throat. He turned back around, staring at you with his dead eyes.

And began walking towards you. 


The bullets barely missed your head as you sprinted down the sidewalk.  

You scurried around the many panicked people as they ran beside you. The bullets hit multiple people around you, but thankfully, they managed to miss you every single time. You made a sharp turn down a dark alley, hoping he’d get distracted for a moment.

As you ran, you could hear the faint footsteps growing closer and closer. You huffed, feeling your sides begin to ache from the sprinting, but you refused to slow down. 

You were almost to the end of the alley, when you felt a pair of hands wrap around your waist and haul you back into the alley. You began screaming, kicking everywhere you could with all your might. He managed to get you far enough away from the street before spinning you around and planting a hard slap onto your face. 

You cried out, feeling your cheek burn from the harsh contact. Blinking through the tears, you noticed the man was staring at you oddly once again. You watched as his head cocked to the side, his gaze set on the tears running down your face. 

Realizing he was distracted, you swung your fist into his face as hard as you could.

Big mistake. 

His head jerked back violently and you watched as the black mask flew from his face and landed onto the concrete with a small plop.

He turned around and you were hit with the strongest sensation of déjà vu. 

You swore up and down on everything you own, that you’ve seen this man before. You didn’t know how or when or where, but you’ve seen him. 

He was gorgeous. Really gorgeous. You probably would’ve developed a small crush on him if he weren’t a raging psychopath and trying to murder you and your friends. 

Who the hell are you?” he spat, his eyes wild with fear. They burned into your fearful ones as you stared back, your mouth hanging open. With a deep breath, you brought your leg up to his ribs and kicked with all your might.  

He grunted, jolting back from the force of your kick. But to your dismay, you didn’t do any kind of damage. His grip on your wrist tightened painfully, you cried out as you felt your wrist seering with pain. 

His eyes dilated, his brows furrowed as he scowled. In one move, he launched his fist forward, hitting you directly in the face. 

Then everything went black. 


When you woke, the only thing you could hear was silence and the soft sounds of what sounded like a metal clinking together. 

You opened your eyes, wincing at the brightness of the light above you. Especially the ache in your eye. You blinked, trying to fully comprehend what had just happened, most importantly, where the hell you were. 

“Who are you?” a deep voice pulled you from your thoughts.

It came out more of a demand. His voice was completely monotone, but still deep with authority. There he was, The Winter Soldier. The man who punched your lights out a while ago. Steve’s best friend, only, he didn’t look friendly at all. 

He looked terrifying.You peered around the room, taking in your surroundings. Somehow, he managed to take you to a shady little motel. From what you could peek from under the blinds as you lie on the bed, you were far from New York. The familiar sounds of traffic and civilians passing by was completely gone, leaving you in eerie silence instead.

“Are you fucking deaf?” he spat, his face twisting into a scowl. You shook your head, feeling the tears pooling in your eyes. You were trembling as well.

“N-No,” you answered timidly.

“Then answer my damn question. Who are you?”

“I’m Y/N,” you replied, feeling the tears running down your face. “Y/N Y/L/N.”

He stared off into the distance, as if he were processing the information in his head. Was he really a human computer like Sam said? You were terrified as it was, but being around a terminator was even more horrific. You waited for him to ask another question, but it never came. Instead, he leaned back into his chair, placing the pistol back onto the table.

“Are you going to kill me?” you heard yourself ask. Immediately, you shut your mouth. Why would you give him the idea? From what you knew, he was crazy, probably from all the brainwashing.

His blue eyes flickered back over to you, and you swore by everything, you saw them soften momentarily before they were back at to their original coldness from before.

“Are you going to hurt me?” you asked, this time with more volume in your voice. Immediately, he stood from the chair and you jumped, backing away as far as you were allowed. He slowly made his way over to you, his dark gaze burning into your teary eyes in a predatory manner. You flinched as he sat beside your legs.

“The man on the bridge,” he spoke, his voice still in the same nonchalant tone. “Who was he?”

“His name is Steve,” you answered, watching his expression change. “Steve Rogers, he was your best friend since childhood.”

He didn’t respond, instead, he ran his hands over his face. You watched as he ran his fingers through his long, dark hair. Despite being insane, he was extremely handsome, you’d give him that. His jawline looked like it could cut glass, and those eyes. They were twice as blue as Steve’s, twice as beautiful, too.

You pulled yourself out of your thoughts, mentally scolding yourself. This man was probably going to kill you, maybe after he did god knows what with you before, yet here you were ogling over him like some A list celebrity.

He turned towards you, his face set in a frown.

“I knew him,” he admitted, his eyes full of a mixture of confusion and hurt. “I knew him a long time ago.” You nodded, your heart thumping wildly in your chest. Why were you acting this way?

“But you…” He whispered, staring into your eyes fiercely. 

“I knew you, too.”

-Fin!  

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Misunderstandings

IMAGINE: Years ago (Y/N) and Steve were in a relationship, however something happened that made him cruelly break up with her. Now that the Avengers need her help, what will happen between the two of them? 

[gif is not mine. tell me what you think.] 

warnings: swearing, violence, angst. 

word count: 2 k+ 


(Y/N) fiddled with her pen as she stared at Fury and Tony sitting down opposite of her desk. She leaned back into the comfortable leather seat and smiled at them.

“Do we have an agreement?” Fury asked as he briefly looked at the contract.

Her smile became more predatory, “Fury,” she started, his last name coming off smoothly from her tongue. “You and I both know that my people look at every contract before I sign them.” 

“Get one of them here then.”

“Fury, if this is how you save the world then I really fear for the human existence,” she chastised. 

“(Y/N),” Tony waned.

She smiled, this time more friendly and happy, “Just having a laugh, Stark.” (Y/N), with her left hand pressed a button on her desk. A few moments later the door opened and walked in a well dressed man. 

“Timothy, look over this for me.”


(Y/N) looked at the Seattle skyline, enjoying the beautiful view. She paid no attention to the three men behind her, paid no attention as they debated the terms inside the contract.

“Miss (Y/L/N)? The contract is ready to sign.”

“So quickly?” She asked, not turning around.

“The terms are stated clearly, and obviously they learnt from last time.”

(Y/N) smiled as she remembered what happened the last time. Finally, she turned around and walked to them. Pen in hand, she grasped the contract and signed wherever it needed her signature.

She looked up at Tony and Fury, “Guess I’m working for the Avengers.”


Steve gawked as he watched (Y/N) strut into the conference room like she owned the place. He looked at Fury who refused to meet Steve’s gaze knowing that the super soldier was glaring at him. “What is she doing here?” He spoke loudly as she sat down.

(Y/N) smiled smugly at him, “They needed my expertise on something.”

“Like what? Killing people?” Steve tilted his head, “Or hacking into the government system illegally?” He tilted his head to the other side, his tone mocking her. 

Before (Y/N) could retort, Tony stood up, “Nope, nothing should come out of your mouth unless it’s something pleasant. Wait, no scratch that, just don’t talk to Rogers. Go to the other side of the room.” 

(Y/N) licked her lips and grinned at the two men. She pretended to zip her mouth with her finger, then flipped them off. Turning around she walked towards Nat who greeted her with a smile.

“Who’s the girl and why does Steve hate her?” Bucky asked as he and Sam watched from the other side.

“You ever heard of (Y/L/N) Enterprises?” Sam watched as Bucky nodded. “That’s her family’s company, she inherited it from her grandfather. She’s one of the most powerful people on the planet right now. In terms of money,” Sam moved his lips around. “And other things.”

“She’s a dirty criminal that’s what she is,” Steve grumbled as he narrowed his eyes at (Y/N), who was watching him intently. “She’s a stuck up criminal who plays with people’s lives for fun.” Steve turned to Bucky who was furrowing his brows. “Don’t trust her.”

“Steve and (Y/N) have a bit of history together.” Sam explained and Steve scoffed. 

Their conversation was ended as Fury called the meeting. Bucky, Sam and Steve sat directly opposite of their leader and listened intently to their new mission. Bucky, however couldn’t help but watch (Y/N). The way that she spoke when Fury asked her to, her confidence. He knew that he was looking too intently at her when she turned in her seat to face him, giving him a curious look. Bucky wanted to look away, to turn to the side, to shy away from her. But something deep inside of him urged him to look at her. It wasn’t until Sam nudged him that he looked away from her.


(Y/N) punched the bag harder, watching as the dust fall from the ceiling, she knew that one more punch and it would be hurdled across the room.

“What are you doing here?” A voice interrupted her. 

She paused in her movements, her arm in the middle of swinging. (Y/N) cocked her head to the side. Before she could turn around she was thrown against the wall, a hand enclosing her throat. She was faced with Steve, anger in his eyes. 

(Y/N) gave him a small smile. “Darling, didn’t you miss me?” The hand around her throat became tighter, “I guess that’s a no.”

“(Y/N),” Steve started. “What are you doing here?”

She gave him another smile, and with a kick to the stomach he landed on his stomach, she quickly straddled him -pinning him to the ground. “I got a contract Rogers. Your team needs me for that HYDRA mission you received.” 

“We don’t need your help,” Steve spat.

(Y/N) wrapped her hand around Steve’s shirt collar, pulled him up and slammed him down again. “Trust me, I wouldn’t be here if they didn’t need me so much.”

“You’re a fucking traitor (Y/N), just because the team is so enamored with you and can’t see you’re just here to fuck with us again, doesn’t mean I’m blind.”

She swallowed and let go of Steve’s shirt, (Y/N) quickly stood up. “If you really think that I betrayed you Rogers…”

“You were working with HYDRA!” Steve yelled. “I saw you! I followed you and I saw you go into their compound!”

“BECAUSE BUCKY WAS THERE!” She snapped. Steve looked at her, his anger now mixed confusion.

“Bucky wasn’t in that facility. Don’t lie to me.” Steve gritted out through his teeth.  

“They transferred him.” (Y/N) sighed frustratedly, she ran a hand through her hair, then exhaled loudly, “After the events of Washington, you told me that Bucky helped you. That he was the Winter Soldier.” (Y/N) paused and licked her lips. “You told me everything about Bucky, Steve. You were, you are his best friend, and he was yours. He was the reason why you couldn’t sleep at night, the reason why you still cried when I shared your bed. You were unhappy because there was a massive part of your life missing.”

“When you told me that, I knew that I could help in some way. Help you. So yeah, I used my fucking sketchy contacts and tailed Bucky and where he was kept. I fucking went there, I negotiated with those scum, pretended that I was one of them, that I was betraying the team so I could try and speak to Bucky, for you.” She stepped forward, hands now clenched by her side. “I was there for three months, I made progress with Bucky, little but it was there. He could still remember me from the previous times I snuck to see him. Remembered bits of you.” (Y/N) pushed him, Steve being too shocked again landed on the floor.

“Then you came at me that night, yelling at me. Accusing me of betraying the team, betraying you, betraying us! You humiliated me Rogers, the person that I loved and trusted humiliated me in the worse way possible.” She clicked her jaw in annoyance, “You fucking threw me from the compound. Banned me from ever seeing anyone, you sprouted lies about me!”

“How the hell was I supposed to know? I thought you were betraying us!” Steve fired back. 

“YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO TRUST ME!” (Y/N) bellowed, her eyes gathering tears due to frustration. “THAT’S WHY WE WORKED WELL! OUR RELATIONSHIP AND PARTNERSHIP WAS BUILT ON TRUST, STEVE!”

“I DID EVERYTHING FOR YOU! I RISKED EVERYTHING AND ALMOST LOST EVERYTHING FOR YOU! AND HOW AM I REPAID? YOU HUMILIATED ME, YOU BROKE MY HEART. YOU FORBID ME TO SEE THE PEOPLE I CLASSIFY AS MY FAMILY! YOU BROKE ME!” 

“(Y/N),” Steve whispered brokenly. Tears threatening to spill down his face.  

She inhaled and looked at him coldly, “Just don’t. This is my last mission for the Avengers indefinitely. I made sure of that.” (Y/N) began walking away, only stopping to pick up her water bottle. “After this mission Rogers, you’re going to officially be dead to me.”


Steve gripped the rails tighter as he looked out at the New York skyline. Could it be true? He knew that it was. If there was one thing (Y/N) never did while they were in a relationship was she never lied to him. But some inane part of him wanted to tell the rest of him that she was lying, in order to get the guilt feeling of his chest.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

“Rough night?”

He looked to his right and watched as Bucky walked towards the railing, a small smile on his face.

“Buck,” the other super soldier looked at Steve. “I have a question.” Bucky nodded. “(Y/N),” Steve started. “(Y/N), she said that she met up with you, at the HYDRA compound. 

Bucky nodded slowly.“When she walked into the conference room today, I couldn’t help but stop looking at her. I knew her from somewhere, every night I fall asleep and dream about this woman speaking so softly to me, I can never see her, I can never make out her face. Fuck, when she spoke Steve, it was like everything came back. Bits of information that she fed me about myself back then, about you.” Bucky shook his head, a small smile appearing on his face.

“You’re in love with her,” Steve acknowledged.

“Well she practically brought me back, how can I not be in love with her?” Bucky laughed. “I’m not in love with her Steve, but she helped me. Without her it could have taken forever for me to come back, or maybe never. 

“She spoke about me, huh?”

“She did, a lot,” Bucky groaned good-naturedly. “You could hear it you know? The love in her voice whenever she spoke about you. I’ve never heard anyone speak about anyone like that.”

“I screwed it up Buck.”

Bucky shook his head and clasped a hand on Steve’s shoulder and squeezed for a moment and returned his arm back to his side. “The love that she had for you is the kind of love that can last forever.” Bucky pulled out his wallet and pulled out two pictures. “She gave me this when I started remembering her,” he passed the first picture.

Steve looked at the image and he felt his heart clench. It was him, pre-serum and Bucky standing with ice cream cones in his hand standing somewhere in New York. “Look at the back.” Steve flipped the photo and saw (Y/N)’s familiar handwriting. On the back of the photograph it said: ‘This is one of Steve’s favourite moments with you. Look at this Bucky, remember this. Come back to Steve. Come back to your best friend.’ 

“She’s a bit pushy,” Bucky commented. “Really bossy.”

Steve laughed heavily, his throat closing up with emotion. “What’s the other photo?” 

Bucky hesitantly passed it to him, “I got this during one of her last visits. A guard came to check on me, she was almost caught. While I helped her hide, I may or may not have picked it from her pocket.” 

Steve looked at the second photo, this time a more modern one. It was him and (Y/N). Specifically him and (Y/N) on the couch, his head laying on her lap. He was looking up at her with a smile on his face, while she looked down at him with an equally great smile. Steve flipped the photo over. This time his heart hurt more than ever, he couldn’t help the tears streaming down his face, nor did he do anything to wipe them away. 

Bucky watched as Steve traced the photo and the writing over and over again. He watched as his best friend cry at what he lost. He knew the feeling, he knew what lost felt like. But then, he also knew that if someone believes enough in you, you can come back. 

“You’ll get her back.”

“Thanks, Buck.” 

“Anytime, pal.”


As Steve laid down on his bed, he carefully looked at the photo again, tracing their faces, her face. He turned off his light and cradled the photograph to his chest. As he fell asleep, his heart and mind echoed the words etched on the back of the photo. ‘My heart. My equal. My soul. My love.’

The Unblessed - Part 2

Masterlist

Previous part - Next Part 


Unseelie Bucky x Reader

Summary: Everybody knows to stay away from the forest, where the Seelie and Unseelie courts remain as a permanent danger to humans. But when the people in your village begin to starve and you face a dangerous journey to the land of the fae, you never think of the consequences it may bring… Until the Prince of Winter himself sets his eyes on you.

Warnings: Blood, death

Word count: 3827

A.N:  Consider me officially invested in this story. I almost couldn’t get this chapter out, but I think it turned our pretty well… Buckle up kids! You’re in for one hell of a ride. MWAHAHAHA!
As usual, this is dedicated to the beautiful Ella @buckysinthesinbin for being a ray of sunshine and helping me pull this through while also putting up with all my  whims and threats and exited texts at one in the morning. You’re the best <3

Originally posted by pretty-dead-dog


The small cottage is unusually silent when you wake up. The fire has stopped crackling, wooden logs turned black sitting idly in a heap on the fireplace. There’s no wind, and even the permanently broken window frame has ceased its constant tapping against the wall. A large layer of frost is covering the window now, seeping through the cracks in the glass, tiny ice crystals spreading over the wall next to your bed.

You’ve spent four days locked inside the house, always under the watchful eye of the other girls you share the cottage with, towering over you at all times of the day to make sure nothing strange is going on. Everyone’s been especially paranoid since you came back, not letting you out of their sight for a second, so the girl’s absence only serves to make you uneasy. They wouldn’t have left you unless something bad happened, not when the winter has every single person on edge, and dread builds in your gut when you find your iron tipped knives gone from the bedside table.

Something is wrong, you think, something is terribly, horribly wrong. And you can almost feel it in the air now, like static ready to snap at any second.

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anonymous asked:

What if Claire travelled through time from her life of the 18th century to Jamie who lived in the 1940s ?

Fast-Forward: Part One.

Hoisting her skirts, Claire dragged in another jagged breath as she ducked and dived through the low hanging branches of the rowan trees that surrounded her. She could hear the far off hollering of the redcoat soldiers, their bugles piercing the silence as the dusk began to creep in.

Her back throbbed painfully as the almost-healed scars of her first run in with the army grated roughly against her tightly pulled bodice. The memory of her recent flogging sat painfully behind her eyes as she fled through the dense underbrush of the Scottish forest. As soon as she’d been able, she’d run. Picking her way through the underbelly of Fort William, Claire had successfully navigated her way through the cells, eventually picking the lock on the door that led out onto the pile of bodies dumped from the most recent hangings. Half blind and in agony, she’d crawled through the stench,  up and out into daylight, her legs protesting as she moved without grace, falling and catching herself as her vision blurred.

Fight or flight had raged, her mind telling her one thing, her body another. But flight had won. To stay there meant death and she wasn’t willing to accept that just yet.

Randall’s words pulsed through her, causing her stomach to clench and she stopped to throw up what little she had in her belly, clenching her fingers around the rough bark as she gasped and expelled water and bile into the mud that lay at the base of the trees.

One loaf of bread, an innocent desire to simply feed herself and she’d been thrust into disarray, her life rendered forfeit for her theft. With no family and no allegiances to a husband, Claire had been living the life of a spinster, doctoring the sick and roaming from village to village to make a living. Captain Randall had been the dark mark that brought that living swiftly and sharply to an end.

Her father and Captain Jonathan Randall had been acquaintances…once upon a time. Knowing Claire was soon to be too old for marriage, and in a political move that seemed beneficial for his career, Henry Beauchamp had pledged her hand to the redcoat captain, deeming the match prosperous for all.

Claire had not agreed, and as such had made extremely vocal complaints on the matter.

Spurning Randall, she had vowed never to be linked with the man, his reputation for being a bit of a brute notwithstanding, she couldn’t see herself married to such a cold hearted man.

Her father had been devastated, his anger at Claire seemed never ending. But when the winter came, and with it a fresh batch of smallpox, those concerns paled into insignificance.

It wasn’t long before her mother was dead, followed quickly by her father, leaving Claire completely alone in the world.

The all too real threat of Randall caused her nothing but anguish and so she fled. Carrying only what she must, Claire had taken herself off into the highlands and reinvented herself. And for a time it had worked. She’d built up a grand relationship with the locals, her vast knowledge of the plants coming in very handy with sickness.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Claire forced away the urge to sob uncontrollably, her arm gripping her middle as she steeled her shoulders and began to calm her throbbing heart.

She could still see the look on her father’s face the night she rudely destroyed his vision for her future. She could still see the look of thrill on Randall’s face the night he’d pulled her in for stealing, his eyes alight with pleasure as he’d had her hog-tied to the wagon and flayed until she’d nearly passed out.

‘You’ve got to keep going, Claire,’ a small voice whispered to her, the nightmare of her ordeal not yet over as the dull reminder of her predicament whistled through the air and reached her ears.

The army were closing in on her, and fast.

Bashing her fist against the tree, Claire swallowed back another wave of sickness. The light was slowing dwindling and her familiarity with this part of the forest was severely lacking.

Ahead a brief glimpse of sunset through the diminishing tree line caught her eye, the hints of orange and red sparking like firelight on the almost invisible horizon. The wind rose as she puffed her way through the heather and bracken, her toes bleeding and cut as she trudged barefoot upwards.

Pushing away the imminent urge to curl up and sleep, Claire forced herself out of the forest. The hill itself seemed innocuous, the tall stones standing proud at its peak catching the last of the light as she dug her hands into the damp grass and forged her way up further, closer to the top.

Her hair swung wildly in the wind as she reached it, the mass of curls tangling further as the sweat of exertion poured from her brow. Scrambling through the detritus that sat harmlessly in the centre of the stone circle, Claire turned her head, her eyes just catching a flash of maroon through the trees.

“No” she whispered, her knees quaking as she thrust herself low to the ground, pulling the threadbare tartan blanket over her shoulders as if to shield herself.

The voices were louder now, their coarse cries swirling around her in the rising breeze. It wouldn’t be long, she realised, and they’d be upon her. Not having the momentum to continue, Claire slid herself forwards on the ground, crawling through the filth at the base of the largest of the central stones, her hands shivering with cold and fever as her wounds began to throb harder, the cuts opening and allowing fresh droplets of blood to roll down her already moist spine.

Smacking her back against the solid stone, she cried out as the pain shook her.

Suddenly, and without warning, the ground seemed to shift beneath her bottom, the earth trembling uncontrollably under her as the world began to spin right before her eyes. Shifting her head, Claire clenched her fists in an effort to keep herself still, the piercing shriek that replaced the soldiers calls echoing in her eardrums, deafening her. Her arms flailed wildly as her body seemed to tear apart, her limbs being pulled from their sockets as the hurricane continued.

As the maelstrom ceased, Claire felt herself dip in and out of consciousness, her hands screwed up tightly in her hair as she sunk her head closer to the grass. Tickling her nose, the distinct smell of smoke roused her and she uncurled herself slowly.

Fear took root at the base of her spine as she crawled on all fours around the stone, not daring to touch it again, afraid of what it might do.

Peeking her head around, her eyes caught sight of the scent that had brought her round. A fire had been lit just to the side of the hill, it’s flames drifting up into the night sky as it burned away.

Something was off, Claire realised, her chest constricting as she glanced behind her.

Lights twinkled below in the valley, a whole range of them glowing at the base of the hills.

Inverness? She questioned to herself. But how could she see it so distinctly?

Furrowing her brow she turned back to the immediate call of the fire, her frigid body cold to the bone.

The same unknown feeling that told her something wasn’t quite the same flared. She should have been captured by now, clad in irons and marching with the soldiers back to Fort William. They had, after all, been right behind  her just a moment before.

But she hadn’t been.

In fact she felt the distinct feeling of safety. Only the prickle of a notion that seemed to whisper to her that she had nothing to fear from those men here.

Taking the chance, Claire stood once more, letting her shaking knees bear the weight of her as she crept as silently as she was able towards the heat.

“Where am I?” She sighed, her voice trembling as she spoke to the darkness, her hands forming fists at her side as she prepared herself for the unknown.

He heard the snap of the twig before he saw her. Raising his head from his position collecting kindling from the sparse forest that lay to the righthand side of the hillock, Jamie gazed at the battered woman who now stood bashfully in front of his wee fire.

“Ah Dhia!” He whispered, his voice catching in his throat as he hid himself behind the largest tree.

The fire lit her face, the dark streaks of muck illuminated by the light. She was pale, far too fair skinned for a healthy person. He could tell from the way that she held herself that she was in pain, but he couldn’t pinpoint why from his hiding place.

Not wanting to spook her, he crept on his tiptoes to the edge of the trees, holding his hands up in surrender just in case she turned at an inopportune moment and he caught her off guard.

Her dress was peculiar, he realised, her bodice old and torn but still not of this time.

A costume, perhaps. But something about her told him she wasn’t an actress or a member of the local historical society. No, she seemed all too comfortable in her outfit for it to have been a replication of 18th century highland attire.

Wiping his hands on his kilt, Jamie readied himself. Curiosity won out and he began to walk slowly back towards his fire as he watched the strange girl fall to her knees, the relief on her face endearing her to him further.

Without a word, he stepped even closer, the heat of the fire reaching him from where he stood. She still hadn’t seemed to notice him, and the closer he got the more afraid he became of startling her.

“Hey…lassie…” he called out, keeping his voice low as he approached.

Claire threw herself to her feet with some force, her joints protesting as she turned on her new companion. From the tone of his voice, and from the Scots lilt, she didn’t immediately assume danger, but as shaken as she was, she wasn’t completely assured of her safety either.

Her eyes went wide as she caught sight of the man who’d called out to her. His red hair sat slicked back atop his head, fighting in the breeze to free itself from whatever concoction he’d smeared through it. His kilt was bright, something not quite befitting any other plaid she’d seen worn before and his boots were large and shiny.

Shaking her head, she held her hands up in a similar pose. Still she couldn’t pluck out the sounds of the army close by, and the thought that they’d magically disappeared began to sit nervously in her belly.

Where was she?

“You don’t need to fear me, aye?” The young man interjected, stopping only inches away from her as he dipped his head in mock surrender. “I willna hurt you. Promise.”

His smile was reassuring, and Claire dropped her hands and drew in a much needed breath.

Seeming genuine, she allowed him to walk closer, his hand reaching out now as he tried to remove some of the loose leaves and twigs from her mussed hair.

“Got yerself into a wee bit o’ a swivet have ye?” He spoke, his voice soft and calming as he took her in. “I’m James Fraser, Jamie to most. Who might you be?” He asked, curiosity obviously getting the better of him.

Inhaling a deep breath, Claire made to answer him. But as she did a wave of nausea overtook her and her throat trembled with the force of it.

Faster than he’d imagined, Jamie reached out just in time to catch the stranger as her eyes rolled back into her head and she fainted.

“Christ!” He yelled, seeing her face pale and her shoulders slump.

Gathering her up, Jamie slipped his arms beneath her legs and held her to his chest as he strolled back towards his car.

“I guess this means yer coming wi’ me,” he chuckled, placing her softly on the cushioned leather of his back seat. “My mam always said I ha’ lassies falling for me. She isna wrong, aye?” He joked, brushing her curls away from her forehead as he covered her with his own clean blanket, closing the door softly behind him as he climbed into the front seat.

Placing the key into the ignition, Jamie switched on the headlights and glanced back over to his unconscious companion, a wistful smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he took in her prostrate form.

Memories of old stories filled his mind as he tipped his head, viewing her with a sort of caution that seemed to spring from the idea of her miraculous appearance.

He had been alone up here. Craigh na Dunn was a notorious spot for the local druid woman, but only at certain times of the year. Beltane had just passed and as such, those who came here to dance had been days before to complete their ritual. That’s why he’d chosen that moment to flee his sisters monotonous wedding preparations. That’s why he was still in his kilt and not in his trousers.

The thought hit him then. A fairy. One of the magical folk.

The stories his grannie use to tell him sprung to mind as he put a name to the sourcery.

Madness, he scoffed, shaking his head at the myriad of daft thoughts that had begun to spiral in his mind. What a daft notion, of course she wasn’t a fairy!

“Please…” he heard as his guest began to cry out behind him, “don’t…no…please!”

Reaching backwards, Jamie laid his large palm against his cheek as he maneuvered the car towards the main road.

“Hush, lassie,” he cooed as he drove slowly, the lanes narrow and windy as he steered the car in the direction of Lallybroch and home. “Nobody will hurt ye here, rest up.”

The calm voice penetrated her nightmares as Claire twisted herself away from the harsh slap of the lash. Kind eyes and a flash of ginger broke through the angry vision of Randall and her capture. Clambering for some sort of foothold, she managed to find purchase on skin. A hand encircled hers and she gripped it with all her might, holding on as if it might rescue her from drowning in the hell that held her hostage.

‘Hush now…I’ll protect ye, I promise….’ the voice said, the waves of it breaking the shores of her horror and dissipating the pain. ‘Sleep now, mo nighean, rest.’

Jon x Female Reader

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Imagine working in a brothel and seducing Jon Snow into losing his virginity resulting in the two of you falling in love.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

\ Request from anonymous /

Please some passionate Jon Snow smut!! There are not enough in this world

♡ ♡ ♡ Warning: SMUT ♡ ♡ ♡

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Prompt? Jonsa has been married for some moons now and she's worried Ramsay wounded her inside because she's not pregnant yet, Jon makes her know that she's the only thing he'll ever need for the first time.

I loved this prompt. This blends book and show canon some since my memory of S5 is kinda hazy. Thanks for the prompt, anon!


Sansa woke suddenly, pulling the furs back before sitting up. The fire had died, the remaining embers casting a faint glow about the room. The pitch black sky and quiet courtyard below told her the time well enough but she already knew.  It was the hour of the ghost, as it always was when his spirit came.

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A Gem in a Wolf’s Heart: Pt 1

Originally posted by stormborn

Robb Stark and Lady Stark survive the Red Wedding. Talisa/Jeyne died and Robb gets his sisters back, there is a new and better King in Kings landing. The North is independent and the Starks killed everyone that betrayed them. Now you are the gem of the North, your father a great general that promised Catelyn Stark to marry you to Robb Stark so he is to remain King in the North. 


Part Two 

(Y/N) = Your Name

(Y/L/N) = Your Last Name 

Warning: Mean Robb (>3<)

The snow falling always made your heart warm, the way the fallen snow melted against your skin made you smile. You are now of age, a lady in waiting. You are in the snow garden at Castle Elderfrost, a large gray castle with tall skinny trees and frost on all of the blue winter roses. 

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Accidents Happen (reader x Bucky)

Hiya. Confession: So I took a long break from tumblr because it was taking over my life but I’m back now because Bucky. Obviously. I’ve mostly been writing fiction the past few years, but this is my VERY FIRST dipped toe into fiction of the “fan” variety. This story was running through my head ALL day at work yesterday so I had to get it out. I was brought back to writing from all the awesome (Y/N) x Bucky blogs I’ve been reading, devouring entire Master lists in fact. (Ahem, @squishybucky @writingruna and @imaginingbucky. Still making my way through @you-and-bucky ‘s list and I’m loving it!)


I’m still learning this new form of writing, so please be kind but helpful tips are welcome! I pretty much wrote it last night from top to bottom with very little editing, but mostly I’m posting now before I lose my nerve. :D This story is loosely based on my life experience when I fell hard for a guy, wishing I could’ve been as bold as the reader is. 

——————————————————————————

Accidents Happen

Summary: Reader is 26 years old training with the avengers. She is slightly accident prone with a sheltered background, resulting in aversion to swearing. No verbal filter and says most things without thinking. She gets creative with curse words. First meeting and developing feelings for Bucky. 

Warnings: none? Mostly Fluff with a little heat at the end. :) I can’t handle pretty much any smut without dying of embarrassment. :)

——————————————————————————-

“Nice try, Hawk, but you’re about to eat mat, mother trucker!”

You had no verbal filter. Everyone on the team knew that. After almost a year of training together, they were used to your bizarre outbursts and ridiculous exclamations. However, you grew up in a very religious, uptight household and despite distancing yourself from those beliefs years ago, old habits held strong. Such as your inability to curse like a normal person. Any response to excitement, pain, surprise, or fear resulted in a random phrase that usually began with the first syllable of the intended word.

“Kick his asteroid, Nat!”

The redhead rolled her eyes, but kept focus and had Clint on the mat in seconds.

You pumped your fists in the air with a triumphant yell, then approaching the mat in anticipation of your own sparring match. All training focus had dissolved, however, as the gym doors opened revealing Steve and a dark-haired stranger. Curiosity peaked as you joined the welcome crowd approaching the newcomer.  Shoulder-length hair covered his down-turned face, but the glint of a silver hand not covered by his left jacket sleeve explained all.

“It’s Bucky!!” you whispered too loudly.

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anonymous asked:

Can we get more of Tales from the Past?? I really need to know if Claire will EVER actually meet Jamie.

Tales From the Past | Part I, Part II, Part III


Three long years of renovations done on the estate, followed by six long years off to war, and finally, it was finally home: Lallybroch. The fabled home of my dunbonnet and his faerie witch was now my own. I spun in a circle, giddy with excitement and bubbling nerves. I had a home, a place to relax, to live, to grow, and never worry if there will be somewhere for me at the end of the day.

The grounds were vast and gorgeous fields of flowing grass, wildflowers, and dense Scottish forest. The air clear from the smog of the city and decay of war. Each day was a new day to discover something from the past. I started familiarizing myself with my new home with daily walks into the woods. My journal close by to document any and every plant I came across.

Exploring the land gave me a sense of being home, and somehow closer to the Dun Bonnet tale that had fascinated me since I was teenager. It was his home and land, and with it came the most surreal experiences, especially the days I spent exploring his cave. The small cave about a fifteen minute hike from the house had given me chills. There was a small carving of initials in the stone deep into the cave, a jagged J, C & B. The letters tried to mimic the ornate style that was written in the mid-to-late 18th century.  I couldn’t help but finger the small letters, wondering what or who the letters represented.

“Claire,”

My head whipped toward the entrance of the cave. The wind must have been playing tricks on my mind.

“Mo nighean donn,”

I head the wind whisper words again just as my finger caressed the “J” in the sequence of letters. My skin had pebbled with gooseflesh, as though something were directly behind me. Each time I entered the cave this sensation occurred.

As the fall and winter months turned into the first brisk breezes of spring, the locals began creeping out of the woodwork to welcome me to the area as the seasons passed. Most were apprehensive and standoffish. I caught some of their hushed words on the rare occasion I went to town.

“What’s a young Sassenach lass doing living in the old Fraser-Murray estate?”

“Poor lass lost her only family in the war, wonder why she decided to move to the Highlands?”

“Scandalous! A woman of her age alone in a place like that! Why if her family knew they’d be rolling over in their graves.”

Sometimes, though, the words were of kindness and pity not malice and apprehension. I learned to take the good with the bad, ignoring the jibes at my upbringing and single status. I ignored them until one day the talk of a witch and folklores of old drifted from an open door. My interest piqued, I tentatively walked into the small shop. The shop was cloaked in a sickeningly sweet smell of floral perfume and baked goods. Postcards hung from a string in the window, while the interior was filled with the most delicate bits and baubles made from glass and ceramics.

“Och! Hello m’dear! And what brings ye to Madame Elsie’s today?”

“I’m terribly sorry to interrupt, but I heard something about a white lady?”

The old woman, presumably Elsie’s eyebrows shot into the curls of her hairline.

“Aye, and that’s no something to be spouting off about. Though since ye heard us speaking of it, it wouldnae hurt to ask why ye’re interested in the matter?”

“Oh! I’m a folklorist, or well, I used to be…before the war. My uncle and I traveled the world documenting the folklores of different cultures.” I felt my cheeks heat, “I really am sorry for intruding, it’s a second nature for me to always be listening for a story.”

The old woman smiled, “Never fear dear, please have a seat and we’ll tell you what we know of the White Lady.”

I pulled up a plum colored plush armchair and my notebook before sitting down between the two women.

“Do you mind if I write this down?”

“Of course not dear! Write whatever you wish. This story is common knowledge and I’m surprised this is the first you’ve heard of it on this day.”

“Elsie…”  The second woman warned.

“Relax Miriam,” Elsie said with a wave of her hand. “You know that the Crooks, the Baird’s and the Murray’s all tell this tale today.”

Miriam scoffed and went back to her tea.

“So m’dear, the tale of the White Lady that’s going on aboot the town today is an interesting one. Today is the day that the White Lady is said to be seen on this day every year. It’s the day she meets her love for the first time.”

“Is the White Lady a ghost?”

“Och! Aye! She is indeed, from the ‘45 rebellion and all! Ye can hear her screams and cries for the love she lost and the life she knew from the faerie hill up yonder.”

“Faerie hill?”

“Child! Surely ye ken the Faerie hill, Craig na Dun?”

I shook my head slowly. “Could you tell me how to get there? I’d love to see it.”

The two women exchanged a glance then nodded as one. “Aye, go down the road aboot a mile or so and turn left. The Faerie Hill is five miles from the fork in the road. Ye’ll ken it from the stones that stand upon it. They seem to glow from the sun and their ancient dead power. If ye see the screaming White Lady, be wary child. She’ll no take kindly to intruders.”

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ATHAZAGORAPHOBIA

THE FEAR OF FORGETTING
THE FEAR OF BEING FORGOTTEN

Next

METATHESIOPHOBIA: THE FEAR OF CHANGE

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: ~2500

Summary: Bucky’s POV; It’s been nearly thirty years since you were separated from the man you called Зима, Zima, Winter. He was made to forget you, and he never knew why. What had the two of you done wrong? Now that he’s found you again… well…

Warnings: Angst, Fluff-ish

Originally posted by allthisherostuff

Her hand so small in mine. Her skin is warm and soft and just as I remember. The slow rise and fall of her chest should bring me comfort. I suppose it would if she didn’t also have a tube down her throat. They tell me she’ll be fine, that she’ll wake up in time, but there’s no way to know how long it’ll take. There’s no sound in the room aside from the beeping of the machines and the pumping ventilator.

“Soldat, this is (Y/N).”

I remember the fear in her eyes, and at the time I thought it was me she was afraid of.

“We’re giving her to you.”

It was like they were giving me a pet. They made me responsible for her, gave me freedom I didn’t have before her. She was a soft light through the darkness.

“Come on, Зима. Please?”

“You have to stay here.”

“But I can help.”

“You’re not ready to be in the field. Maybe next time.”

“Promise?”

“As long as you promise to stay out of trouble while I’m gone.”

“I promise.”

She smiled, her eyes bright with hope. I should have taken her with me. Maybe she would have been okay.

A soft knock on the door pulls me out of my silent reverie. Steve comes in, sympathy clear in his face.

“It’s been two days, Buck.”

“I’ll wait here for two weeks if I have to.”

He sighs, picking up a chair and setting it down beside me for taking a seat.

“Who is she?” he asks.

“She was my everything when I had nothing. I didn’t know what to think of her when they gave her to me. I trained her, taught her everything I knew. At first, it was like a having pet or a child. I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with her.”

“So what happened?”

“I left on a mission. She asked to come with me, but I told her she needed to stay, made her promise to stay out of trouble. All I wanted to do was protect her. Everything was fine until I started asking for her. They put me in that chair, strapped me down.” I caress the back of her hand with my thumb, “When they brought her out, she had a black eye. Her face was swollen. She had no fight left in her when they sat her across from me. They wiped me in front of her. I can still hear her begging them to not to do it. She blamed herself.” When I finally look at him, I find him staring at her face with a complex expression twisting his features, “They put me back under, and when I woke up she was gone, not that it mattered. I mean, my memory of her was gone until a couple of years ago. Even then, I thought she was dead.” I turn my attention back to her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze, “I just want her to wake up. I want to make things right.”

“I won’t ask you to leave her, but I did bring you a change of clothes and some other stuff I thought you might need.”

I smile, patting his back with my free hand, “Thanks, pal.”

“Go change.” He says, gesturing to the small duffel bag by the door, “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

I nod, standing and taking up the bag from the floor. Even though I know the odds of her waking up while I’m gone are slim to none, I still hesitate at the door. I spare one more glance to her sleeping face before finally leaving the room.

After a week, we arranged for a cot to be put her room. Every night, Steve spends about thirty minutes with her while I get cleaned up.

After a month, it seems like everyone around me is starting to give up hope. I can’t give on her.

I need to know what she remembers. I need to know what they told her. I need her to know that what happened was not her fault. Above everything, I need her to know that I loved her, that I love her.

The heart monitor begins to scream as her heart rate proceeds to climb. My first thought is that I’m losing her. I stand at her side, leaning down so that my lips are beside her ear, and I beg her not to leave me. Then her eyes open and she’s gasping around the ventilator tube. I try to keep her calm as doctors and nurses flood the room.

Even though she’s looking at me, I’m not sure she’s actually seeing me. Her eyes stay on me as I’m pushed from the room.

It’s been a week, and they still won’t let me see her.

A meeting’s been called. Everyone sits in their usual seats around the large conference table. Bruce is the last to join us as he’s accompanying Helen; they’ve both taken responsibility for (Y/N)’s care. She gives Steve a small stack of files. He takes one and sends the rest around the table. I’m the last to get one; (Y/N)’s name is printed on the edge.

“The files you’ve been given contain everything I’m about to show you along with the transcripts over every evaluation she’s undergone in the last two days and the results of all medical exams.”

Natasha picks up the tablet that sits on the table in front of her and taps a few buttons before a projection comes up at the front of the room. (Y/N)’s picture takes up half the screen while the other half is dominated by her information.

“Everyone, I’d like you to meet (Y/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N). Born in a military hospital in Spain on _____, 1969. Biologically, she’s 47, physically 22. (Hair Color). (Eye Color). (Height) inches tall and weighing approximately (Weight) pounds.” The slide changes to a picture of the facility she was recovered from. “A month and a half ago, she was found in a state of cryogenic sleep in this HYDRA facility in France. After comparing her blood to that of both Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes, it is apparent that she has a trace amount of the altered serum in her system. FRIDAY, the light please.” The room darkens as the image on the screen shifts, “This is the first interview, conducted a few hours after she first woke up. Her voice is soft and little hoarse. Refer to transcript number one if necessary.”

The video starts, the camera focused on (Y/N)’s face.

“Do you know your name?”

She nods. “(Y/N).”

“My name is Natasha. I just need to ask you a few questions. Is that okay?”

(Y/N) nods again.

“Do you know where you are?”

“They tell me I’m in New York.”

“That’s right. What can you tell me about yourself?”

(Y/N) shakes her head and shrugs her shoulders.

“It’s okay if you don’t remember. (Y/N), I want to show you some pictures. Would that be okay?”

“What kind of pictures?”

“Scenery. People. Some things that might help jog your memory.”

“Okay.”

The first picture is shown to the camera – a snowy scene with the Siberian facility in the distance – before being passed to (Y/N).

“Do you know what you’re looking at?”

“Siberia. The building looks familiar.”

“Good. How about this one?”

It’s a wide-shot of the inside of the facility. (Y/N) visibly flinches as she takes the picture. She stares at it in silence for a moment before turning it face down on the bed.

“And this one?”

It’s an image of the chair, the very thing that played a part in our separation.

“I remember.”

Her voice has fallen to a whisper, fear and recognition clear on her face.

“Okay. Do you know this man?”

Even I don’t remember his name, but I know he was there. He was always there. (Y/N) looks confused as she shakes her head.

“And this one?”

Karpov.

Fear takes her over again, and she refuses to even touch the picture. The beeping of her heart monitor begins to speed up as does the rise and fall of her chest.

“Okay.” Natasha tears the picture in half and tosses it to the floor, “Take a deep breath. It’s okay.” (Y/N) nods, tears now filling her eyes, “Just two more.”

It’s me, but it’s a recent picture.

“He was there when I woke up.”

“He was. Okay. Last one.”

It’s a picture of me as the soldier, as the man she called…

Зима. Winter.” She snatches the picture from Natasha’s hands and holds it tight, “He’s alive. He was here.”

“He is here.”

“Can I see him?”

“Not yet but you will soon. I promise.”

“Can I keep these?”

(Y/N) picks up the other picture of me and sets it atop the first.

“Of course.”

The screen goes black, and the lights come back up.

“As you can see, recalled quite a bit more than expected. She was given some time to rest after this and he physical evaluation was complete. She’s completely healthy, and her mind is recovering quickly. The second interview, conducted two days later, covers the circumstances of her capture as well as her connection to the Winter Soldier.”

(Y/N)’s sitting cross-legged on her hospital bed across from Natasha. They’re playing some kind of card game.

“How are you feeling today?”

“I’m okay.”

“You certainly sound better.”

“They say my throat is almost healed.”

“Do you mind answering some more questions for me?”

(Y/N) looks up at Natasha, “What kind of questions?”

“About your relationship with Winter and the circumstances of your capture.”

(Y/N) bites her lip and fiddles with the cards in her hands before nodding, “Okay.”

“Let’s start with how you ended up with HYDRA.”

“I had just started a new job as a secretary for some tech company. It was early 1989; I was almost twenty. I left work late one night. The last thing I remember before waking up in that place was walking into my apartment.” She seems lost in thought, her gaze distant as she continues her story, “During my first year there, Vasily took care of me.”

“Vasily Karpov?”

“Yes.”

“And when you say he took care of you, what do you mean?”

“Looking back, I guess you could say it resembled the way a father cares for his child. Oddly enough, he made me feel safe.”

“How did you come to meet Winter?”

“Vasily gave me to him.”

“Gave you to him?”

“He told me that it was so I could be trained, but Winter took over my care after that. At first, he was like a brother to me, but by the end of that first year…”

“It was more than that, wasn’t it?”

(Y/N) shrugs, “I loved him. The day we were separated was the hardest day of my life.”

“Tell me about that.”

“He’d gone on a mission. I wanted to go with him. I thought I was ready, but he didn’t so he told me to stay. He made me promise to stay out of trouble while he was gone, but once he was gone, Vasily had me tortured.”

“Do you know why?”

“He said the Soldier was too attached, that he needed to learn a lesson. He just never explained what that lesson was. They sat us across from each other.” She wipes at the tears that fall slowly down her cheeks, “They turned on that machine. I tried everything to make them stop. I told them it was my fault. Vasily agreed, but he said that hearing Winter’s screams while they erased me from his memory was my punishment.”

“Do you remember anything else after that?”

“Only a sharp pain in my neck. Then I woke up in this bed.”

Natasha nods her head and sets her hand of cards down, “Thank you, (Y/N), for confiding in me. I know it must be difficult to talk about all of this.”

“You have kind eyes, and…” (Y/N) meets Natasha’s gaze steadily and smiles, “I trust you.”

The screen goes black once again, and Natasha turns to look at me. Everyone else’s gazes follow.

“Bucky,” she says, “I’m hoping you can fill in the blanks.”

“There’s nothing to tell. She was taken away from me in every way possible. I only started to remember her a couple of years ago; even then, I never expected her to still be alive.”

“Is there anything else?” Steve asks, breaking the tense silence that’s formed.

“One more video, taken when she sent for me yesterday.”

The video starts as she speaks.

“I was told you wanted to see me.”

“You know, I’ve spent the last couple of days staring at these pictures. While my head understands that they’re the same person, I truly only recognize one of them.” (Y/N) picks up the image of the Winter Soldier, “I know him, but that’s not him anymore. Is it? Does this new version of him not want to see me? Is that why everyone keeps saying that I can’t see him?”

Natasha, in an attempt to keep (Y/N)’s gaze on her, takes (Y/N)’s face in her hands as she begins to cry.

“He has been here every day trying to get in here. He gets the same answers as you.”

“I just want to see him before I forget again. I don’t want to forget. I don’t want to be forgotten.”

She begins sobbing, and Natasha pulls her into her arms, “Tomorrow. I don’t care what anyone says.”

The room is silent as the video ends. My left hand is fisted against my knee. My eyes zero in on the image on her attached to the open file that sits in front of me.

I look up at Steve when he calls my name.

“Go.” He says with a nod of his head.

Before anyone can say anything else, I’m on my feet and moving as fast as I can to the medical floor, opting for the stairs over the elevator. Several people shout at me to stop, telling me that I can’t go into her room. I nearly knock a hole in the wall as I shove the door open.

She watches me with weary eyes as I close the space between us. She rises to her knees at the edge of the bed, cautiously reaching her hands up to touch my face.

“Зима…” she whispers.

“Everyone calls me Bucky now.”

She smiles, “Bucky. That’s going to take some getting used to.”

“We’ve got time.” I reply, tucking her hair gently behind her ear, “I never thought I’d see you again.”

“I never thought you’d remember me.”

“But I did, and I swear I’m never going to forget you again.”

I hold her face between my hands, my thumb dangerously close to her lips. Her hands move to rest against the sides of my neck in the moment before she raises those lips to meet mine.


A/N: Hey guys! Do you think this needs a second part? Cause it might get one. I haven’t decided yet.

Update: It got a second part… and will get a third… and however many parts I need to give this a satisfying ending.

TAG LIST IS OPEN!!

Essays in Existentialism: FtWD IX

All through the town, the silence of the new world slunk, filling streets somberly, rolling around with the faded trash and debris, prowling on fences and painting windows with dust and decay. The entire world was brown, clumps of dead lawns, upturned dirt, dead branches– it all blurred into the same shade inevitably.

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Control [Part 2 of 2]

Word Count: 5,388
Warnings: Some angst, hand to hand combat, anxiety, fugitive behavior, idk guys.
Summary: @blazeshira’s request - “Hi! I saw that you had your requests open and I was wondering if you could do a Bucky fic where the reader was also given the serum & trained with him along with the other winter soldiers but they developed something before she was frozen along with the others & he forgot her until he went to Siberia w/ Steve & he sees her chamber & realizes she escaped before Zemo could kill her so he tries to find her? Fluffy fluff & some angst, please & thank you!”
A/N: Part 2! Thank you all SO SO SO much for all of your kind words on part 1!! You all made me feel so much better about posting it. I seriously couldn’t ask for better readers! You guys are incredible! Thank you all for taking the time to read these stories! It means so much to me!!

If you would like to be added to my taglist for everything, let me know!!

I hope you all enjoy this! <3 Lemme know what you think!!

[PART 1]

Originally posted by laurenkmyers


Your name: submit What is this?

Siberia, Russia; 2016
    Bucky’s Point of View

“I got heat signatures,” Tony starts. Steve asks how many, and Stark replies with, “Uh, one.”

Coming back willingly was absurd.

This was the last place I wanted to be. I’ve done everything in my power to put this place out of my memories over the last two years, and here I am willingly walking back into danger with this punk all over again.

I guess history does repeat itself. Hopefully the end result will be kinder this time.

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Imagine meeting your son. (Part D)

A/N: Part 5D 😊 “I want a baby now,” says the girl who always said she didn’t want kids. Look what you did, Chris. You can read the related mini-series and the previous parts here: (Mini-series: ‘Perfect’ - Masterlist; Mini-series Spin-off: ‘Fated’ - Masterlist; Chapter 7: ‘Baby Steps’: Part 1/Part 2/Part 3A/3B/Part 4A/4B/4C/4D/Part 5A/5B/5C)

After giving you some time with Jack, the nurses took him to the nursery. There were tests, vaccines, and paperwork to be given and completed, and you also needed your rest. They made sure to tie ID bands around yours and Chris’ wrists, as well as Jack’s ankle before they left with him so your son wouldn’t get lost amongst the other babies- which was an irrational fear of yours. You were sure you could pull your special little guy out from the rest of the ordinary crop, but it didn’t hurt to have a little extra precaution. Surprisingly, Chris stayed with you instead of going with Jack. He sent the grandparents instead, stating “I could use some alone time with my wife.” You appreciated the sweet notion, but you told him you were just going to take a nap and that he was more than welcome to go see Jack. But he shook his head, kissing the back of your hand. “I’m going to be here when you wake up,” he assured you as you drifted off to sleep.

And he was, Chris was still by your side when you woke after forty minutes of undisturbed sleep. It didn’t seem like a lot, but it did wonders for your sanity. “I’m surprised you’re still here,” you smiled at Chris when you saw him smile at you.

“Why’s that?” He asked, rubbing his right eye with the side of his index finger.

“I just thought you’d be with Jack.” You said and glanced at the clock; it was 6:46PM, concluding a long, long twenty-four hours for the both of you. Since yesterday at exactly 6:46PM, you’d been suffering from what you’d thought were Braxton Hicks. You didn’t sleep well, which meant Chris didn’t either. So it was understandable he was now as exhausted as you were, probably needing his own forty minutes of undisturbed sleep. “You waited almost thirty-nine years for him, I figured now that he’s here- you’d be glued to his side.”

“I’m kind of already glued to your side, the girl I waited almost thirty-six years for.” He said and you smiled when he took your hand in his. “I told you, you’re my priority. Nothing, not even Jack’s arrival is going to change that.” He squeezed your hand and you squeezed back. “It’s you and me against the world, kid.”

“Will you stop calling me ‘kid’ now that I have my own kid?”

“No chance, kid,” he winked and you chuckled softly, shaking your head.

“Knock knock,” a familiar voice interrupted the moment you and Chris were having, bringing both your gazes to the door. You both smiled when you saw Robert enter the room with a bouquet of hydrangeas and a teddy bear dressed like Captain America that you couldn’t see because it was hidden behind his back. “Sorry to disturb. I couldn’t help myself after getting Chris’ text, I gotta meet the newest addition to the Marvel family.”

“No, not at all. We’re very happy to see you,” you told him and he smiled, walking over. “The Winter Soldier and his missus might be a little sore knowing you met their godson before them,” you joked, knowing that was exactly what Robert was going to do, “so let’s not boast about it on the group chat.”

“Got it,” Robert winked, making you and Chris laugh as he passed Chris the bouquet; Chris placed the bouquet on your bedside table. “These are from Susan, she sends her regards. She would’ve loved to come along to meet your child, but she’s caught up with our own.”

“Don’t even worry about it, honestly I didn’t even expect you to drive all the way out here,” Chris told him then laughed at Robert’s expression of disbelief. Of course he was going to drive out to meet Chris Evans’ son, he would’ve taken a plane from the other side of the world to meet Jack. “We’ll come down with Jack one day and we can have dinner together.”

“That sounds good,” Robert nodded. “Anyway, this-” he moved the teddy bear out from behind his back, waving at the both of you with the hand of the bear. You and Chris laughed because that was the last gift you expected from Iron Man himself. “This is from me. I wanted to get an Iron Man one,” he explained as if he could read your minds, “but Susan said no.”

“That’s ‘cause Susan knows I would’ve burned that at the stake,” Chris joked.

“You’re just upset ‘cause you know Jack is going to be on Team Iron Man,” Robert smirked.

“Over my dead body, Stark,” Chris quipped, laughing when Robert did; you rolled your eyes. “Seriously. Thanks for coming, man.” Chris rose to his feet and took the bear Robert held out, then shared a hug with him. “We really appreciate it.” You nodded, smiling at Robert. “Jack’s in the nursery at the moment, you can meet him in a bit.”

Chris sat back down after pulling a chair over for Robert. “We’re all so happy for the both of you, “ Robert said as he sat down, “this is amazing. You’re a dad,” he slapped Chris’ shoulder with a wide grin; Chris mirrored the same grin, chuckling softly. “Finally, man. You must be ecstatic.”

“Ecstatic, yeah, but also nervous.” He admitted then winced when he looked up at you. “Sorry, baby. I know I’m meant to be the rock here, but I am nervous.” He told you and a soft snicker escaped your nostrils because you already knew that. “You’re a dad of many,” he turned back to Robert, “have got any advice for me?”

“Just be yourself,” Robert replied with a shrug. “Don’t try to be the perfect parent because they don’t exist. Just be yourself,” he repeated in a more assertive tone. “Don’t be afraid to make mistakes because that’s how you learn. Every kid is different, there is no handbook. The main idea is to love them and raise them to make good choices and be a decent human being. It’s just- it’s something you just gotta work at it. It’s a lot of try and try again, and taking each day as it comes. You have to believe that things will work out in the end, and it will, trust me.”

“That’s the best you got?” Chris laughed.

“What do you want me to say, Evans?” Robert quizzed, smiling. “Parenthood- it’s both the easiest and the toughest job on the planet. I can’t tell you how to be a dad to Jack, that’s something you’ve got to work out on your own.” Robert told him and Chris managed a small smile, reaching for your hand because you always provided him comfort. “Just relax, Dorito. You’re made for this. And come on, that kid is equal parts you and Y/N,” he smiled at you and you smiled back, “whatever the two of you do or don’t do, he’s going to turn out great anyway.”

“Thank you, that is so sweet,” you cooed, pouting as your eyes welled with tears.

“Just stating facts here,” Robert smiled, reaching for your joined hands to give it a light pat.

Chris drew his hand back and turned to the door when he heard his mom’s voice. He smiled when he realized the grandparents had returned with Jack; your mom was wheeling him in his little baby cot. “Look who’s here,” he glanced at you and tapped Robert’s arm. You smiled, feeling a spark of excitement that ignited a want to hold your little boy. “Is everything okay with him?” He asked your mom as he carefully lifted Jack from his cot, cradling him in his arms. “Hey pal,” he gently rocked Jack, walking over to Robert.

“Everything’s perfect, the two of you should be able to go home tomorrow morning.” Your mom told Chris, then looked over and smiled at you. “I’m proud of you, baby,” she mouthed and you wiped the tears from your eyes, smiling. “Hey Robert, it’s nice of you to join the party.”

“I had to meet the next Captain America,” Robert gently rubbed Jack’s belly with the pads of his fingers, smiling. “Little one, you have no idea how long your dad has waited for you.” He told Jack as Chris passed him over. “He’s beautiful, you guys.” He smiled at both you and Chris before turning back to Jack. “You are going to be so loved by your mom and dad, and all your aunties and uncles at Marvel. So loved,” he asserted, pressing a gentle kiss on Jack’s forehead.

Chris rejoined your side, sitting on the edge of your bed this time. He wrapped an arm around you as you leaned into him, watching Robert interact with Jack. Jack, your son. It still blew your mind that you were a parent now. Were you ready for this? Was Chris? Of course he was, he was a natural with kids. But were you? Were you-

You were thrown off your train of thought when Jack started to cry, your heart both ached and started to beat rapidly against your chest. Your son was crying and Robert was bringing him over to the two of you. Could you even soothe him? What if he didn’t stop crying at your touch? Would that make you a bad mom?

“I think he wants his mom,” Robert told you, transferring Jack into your arms. Chris helped as you took him, your eyes slightly narrowed with stress and anxiety. “Well, look at that. I was right,” Robert commented when Jack stopped crying at your touch, nestling himself in your comfort. “And you said you weren’t a natural,” Robert teased you.

Your facials softened and you let out a breathless chuckle, smiling at Chris before looking back down at your son. Chris smiled and kissed the side of your head, whispering into your ear before he drew back, “looks like Jack is going to be just like his dad, a big ol’ mama’s boy.”

Tags: @chrisevans-imagines @widowsfics @m-a-t-91 @imaginesofdreams  @katiew1973 @winter-tospring @shamvictoria11 @soymikael @faye22 @always-an-evans-addict @heartblackerthancoffee @whenyourealizethisisntagoodname @yourtropegirl @smoothdogsgirl @createdbytinyaddiction @dreamingintheimpalawithdean @rileyloves5 @buckys-shield @catch-me-im-a-falling-star @tabi-toast @ssweet-empowerment @chrixa @feelmyroarrrr @akidura79 @castellandiangelo @edward-lover18 @yourenotrogers @im-a-fandom-slut @royalexperiment256 @palaiasaurus64 @tacohead13 @badassbaker @pegasusdragontiger @sfreeborn @dorisagent101 @aekr @imagine-cats96 @adeptkillsyasse @shliic @justanotherfangurlz @winchesterandpie @creativeheartgemini @camerica96 @thestarlighthotel @lilya-petrichor @pinkleopardss @lizzysugar @bywonater @avengingalec @nerdingoutismylife @rayleyanns @captainxamerica @lapetitsyrene @01asianista @alwayshave-faith @southernbellestatues @thegirlwiththeimpala @callie-swagg1 @what-if-wenevermet @hillrich


Epilogue

Summer Snow

Pairing: Castiel x Winter fairy!Reader

Warning: Fluff. (I know…)

Word Count: 1,805

A creative writing practice piece. It’s different from what I normally write, but I’ve had snow on the brain. I’ve also been drowning myself in fantasy novels lately so there’s that…

……….

Castiel walked through the snowy embankment and kept his eyes on the frozen landscape as he searched for signs of life. The afternoon sun was tucked away behind a sheet of thick, gray clouds that stretched across the length of the sky. The air was still as he continued on his path, looking, watching, waiting. His dress shoes sank into the freshly fallen snow and tracked footsteps that trailed for miles through the forest.

Time didn’t matter here.

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Winter Shadow - chapter 4

All angst, all the time. Because I’m a right miserable bugger and I want to bring everyone down with me. Sorry about that (and that’s it’s all a bit overblown and melodramatic and why-use-one-word-when-you-can-vomit-a-thesaurus-y)x

I’m trying to keep things in the order that they happen in MCU but I’ll probably get things wrong, I’m sorry.

She was off-comms for this mission, her handlers not wanting to risk sending her in with any earpiece, anything detectable. There should have been no need, it was almost risk-free, straight in, straight out. No need to engage in combat.  No one could have foreseen the possibility that she would search for a file on Steve Rogers, that his file would link her to James Barnes, that she would she a picture of the Soldier, ‘Missing in Action’ stamped across the photo.

Mission parameters forgotten, the danger of being seen ignored, she sat and read through the file, trying to make sense of what she saw.  James Buchanan Barnes, born almost 100 years before, a soldier in the Second World War, a POW, freed by this Steve Rogers, then lost from a train, his body never found. How could this match up to the tortured assassin she knew, who caught on to fleeting scraps of memory to try and reconstruct himself.  She read and re-read the file, desperate to store as much as possible, knowing that she couldn’t take any documents back to be found, and that most memories would be wiped as soon as she returned to Hydra.

Return to Hydra… she was suddenly recalled to herself, aware that she had long outstayed her allotted time and that there would be a price to be exacted for that. For a moment, she considered running, not returning to Hydra, but the pull of the Soldier was too strong. She had to be there for him. He was her trigger, her mission, no matter what.

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Those who are Broken | Chapter Two

Everyone has a soulmate. Except the Broken.

↬ Word count: 2213

↬ The weekend is here, and I have a lot of homework. Where is the freedom?

Chapter list

Originally posted by gothdollysedits

You sat on the metal chair in a circle with several other students. You had therapy in the gym. There wasn’t even a classroom—that’s how much they cared. And to top it all off, this really wasn’t therapy, it was more like an intervention. An intervention for the Broken.

A sort of fucked up intervention.

“This is fucking stupid. Is this some sort of helping mechanism for us to cope with our planned deaths?” one of the students asked, leaning forward in his seat.

“This is to help you better yourself, and for you to express your feelings,” the therapist said from the opposite side of the circle, pushing her spectacles back up.

“Express our feelings? That’s fucking great. Good to know that this academy takes Broken, but they want us to express the reasons we act like a bunch of rebels. Also, they want us to come to terms with the fact that we’re Broken—the most frowned upon group of people who don’t have soulmates,” another student said, voice getting louder with each new sentence.

Everyone was getting riled up, and from behind the circle, you could see security take several steps towards you. They were ready for whatever you guys might do.

“Y/N,” the therapist said, turning your attention away from security and towards her. “You’ve been quiet this whole session. How are you feeling about this?”

The entire group was quiet, their eyes on you expectantly. You sighed, hoping to not be called on, but that was false hope. “I feel like the rest of these people. Pissed.” Several nodded in agreement. “You don’t understand how we feel, and you never will.” The therapist adjusted in her seat. “You can go home today to your loving husband or wife, or whoever. You don’t even have to be with your soulmate because it really isn’t mandatory. They give you a fucking name of the person you are meant to be with, but you could sleep around with the rest of the world and be perfectly fine while the Broken go home wondering if their time will begin to countdown. We’re the ones who have every right to be pissed, scared, sad and every other feeling in the fucking book—except being in love. You non-Broken don’t have a right to look down on us, criticize us for being Broken because we didn’t ask for this.

“This whole therapy session is fucking stupid. Having us in this fucking academy is beyond fucking stupid. Why? Because we’re on a death sentence, so we’ll be dead before you can fix us. What’s the oldest age a Broken has died? I know the youngest was five years old. Five. We don’t live long enough to grow old, and we sure as hell don’t have any children because people despise us.” You hadn’t realized you gotten to your feet. “So do us a favor and quit trying to make us see the bright side because you and I both know there is none.” The bell rung loudly in the now silent gym. You smiled. “Guess session is over.”

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Essays in Existentialism: The Blakes III

Hey I loved the second part of the Blakes. When ever you get a chance can you maybe continue it? That’s of course if you have time. Thank you!! :)

Previously on The Blakes

The winter that came was long and unforgiving. For Clarke, it was an apt metaphor for the cold war that existed with her brother; neither flinching, neither blinking, neither backing down or making any moves at all. Instead, the winter just stayed, refused to thaw, and the siblings continued much the same.

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