drywall room

klaudiart  asked:

hello!!! i saw this list of aus "anonymoussong(.)tumblr(.)com/post/117835002152/list-of-aus" and when i saw that last one i immediately thought of you. could you pretty please do the last one (I can literally hear you sneezing through the walls and I brought some chicken noodle soup over for you because I have exams to study for and your sneezing is seriously distracting me) with peeta being the sick one?? thank you xx

I can literally hear you sneezing through the walls and I brought some chicken noodle soup over for you because I have exams to study for and your sneezing is seriously distracting me.

A/N: I do not own the Hunger Games.

Thank you to peetasallhehasleft for proof reading!




Katniss jumped at the sound for what must have been the third time, throwing her pen behind her in surprise. It made impressive distance, flying into the wall behind her and leaving a tiny black, ink splotched dent.

Sighing, she pulled herself out of the chair, shuffling over to pick up the infernal thing, swooping down and stopping on the way back up to inspect the damage done to the wall. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, stroking the wall softly.


The pen flipped in her hand again, falling to the floor as she fumbled it. Why they were still surprising her, she had no idea.

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panicnowandrun  asked:

19 with bucky please!!!

Originally posted by blackinjustice

Bucky wasn’t mad, he was disappointed. Maybe it was despondence, or dejection, or even self-loathing, but it wasn’t anger. 

He had black out again, this time while Wanda was trying to desensitize him to his trigger words. The last few times had words fine, well even, if you were scoring them based on how many holes he punched into the walls. 

When he woke up, he had expected to see Steve or Wanda or hell, even Vision if he got really bad, and a wall that looked more like swiss cheese than drywall. Instead the room was empty, silent, completely unpunctured by his fists. He wanted to take that as a good sign, but something about the eerie fluttering of his stomach wouldn’t let him write it off as a successful session. 

And then there was a whimper, small and scared and heartbreaking. Bucky would’ve thought it was a mouse caught in a trap if the little noise hadn’t sounded like his name. 

All he had to do was round the corner and that strange flutter in his stomach made complete sense. The silence, the untouched walls, your blood leaking out on the tile. And all he could think was no, anything but this.

“Buck?” You sounded too weak, too strained, and Bucky felt like he should be waking up any second, sweating and shivering and caught in the sheets with you laying perfectly healthy beside him. But this wasn’t a nightmare, in all his nightmares he never thought about his sleeping troubles. 

“Oh no. No, Y/N you’re fine.” You have to be fine. But you weren’t, it didn’t take a doctor to see it. Bucky fell onto his knees beside you and tried to keep all the blood from touching air. 

“You’re back.” You smiled, but that was weak too. Your hand rested heavily on his, thumb and forefinger wrapped loosely around his wrist as he increased pressure on your stomach. 

“I’m so sorry Y/N, we’re gonna get someone in here to fix you up and you’re gonna be fine.” Bucky was shaking now, either from the effort it took to hold down his tears or the utter helplessness washing over him was unclear. 

Your eyes were getting duller and duller, and it made Bucky sick thinking of all the times he had seen this happen. He could hardly feel your chest rising for each breath. 

“You’re gonna make it, just stay awake. Can you do that for me Y/N?” Your breaths came in choked gusts but you made a noise saying you’d try. Even so, your eyelids were getting heavier and Bucky noticed. 

“You gotta keep your eyes open for me doll, just a little longer.” He was pleading, begging, like if he wanted you to stay with him hard enough you would magically be okay. 

“I’m sorry Buck, I can’t.” The whole room was spinning and the edges of your vision were clouding over. You couldn’t make out Bucky’s words but they sounded frantic. 

And then your grip was gone and your hand on his was dead-weight. There were no raspy breaths, no fragile rise of your chest, the blood Bucky was trying to contain wasn’t being forced out anymore.

This wasn’t anger. This was rage. Eating away at him from the inside like a parasite. He was broken, officially past the point of no return. He didn’t have anything to be better for, not when you weren’t there to watch it happen. He was so stupid for thinking any of this could work. 

He was hopeless, and he’d never get any better. 

Sports Reporter Riley Matthews whole world is turned upside down when Shortstop Lucas Friar signs with the Yankees, can she keep the secrets she’s held onto for the last thirteen years, can he keep the secrets he’s held onto?

Cross-posted to FF.net

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“Your mom is seriously going to make you ask him?” Wyatt sat on Alex’s bed as she pushed the rest of her furniture to the middle of the room.

“Get up and help me move the bed.”

“Riley is going to kill you, you know that right?”

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