i want the shade of blue that cuts your heart out

@thunderboltsortofapenny said: No no let’s do this! Why would steve need to be fake married. Or why would bucky need to be fake married to Steve. We need a reason. #Viper do the thing #It’ll be fun!

So I did the thing, and it’s stupid and terrible, but here, have it:


Bucky’s an EMT. Normal guy, just living his life, trying to help where he can. And then one day, all of a sudden, the aliens are invading NYC, and Bucky’s out there helping, right in the middle of the danger zone because of course he is.

There’s a fight going on, and a bunch of freaks in weird suits seem to be fighting the aliens, but Bucky doesn’t have much time to focus on anything other than all the people in dire need of medical attention. He does what he can to help, grabs the first metal bar he can find and fights only the aliens getting in his way, and works himself to exhaustion. Then there’s a blast, and it sends a man flying right into the wall next to him.

“Hey, you okay?” Bucky asks, rushing to help him, and though Bucky could’ve sworn the blow was hard enough to crush anyone’s ribs, he’s surprised to see the man–who must’ve been on his way to a costume party–stand up practically unscathed.

He’s got broad shoulders and a strong jaw and eyes of the prettiest shade of blue Bucky’s ever seen, and even with his face covered in soot and grime and blood, Bucky’s heart skips a beat.

For a few seconds the man seems a bit disoriented, then he finally registers Bucky’s presence. “What are you doing here?? Get out of the streets!”

“I was–” Bucky starts, and is cut off by an explosion right above their heads and a bunch of debris raining down on them, and a hand shoving him aside.

When he comes to, which is a surprise in itself, the dust has started to clear, and the man who’s clearly saved his life is carrying him as if he weighed nothing, concern in those beautiful eyes and a big, warm hand pressed tenderly against Bucky’s neck, checking for a pulse.

He locks eyes with Bucky and sighs in relief, the hint of a smile on his plush lips, but the hand remains where it is. “Hi,” he says. “You all right?”

“Y-yeah… Thank you,” Bucky replies, but he doesn’t move to free himself of the man’s arms. His stomach is doing something weird, and the man surely has other people to rescue, but for a few seconds they both just stay there, shell-shocked and staring at each other like the world around them has stopped.

Then something blows up nearby, and the spell is broken.

Carefully, the man helps him to his feet, makes sure Bucky’s in one piece, and then says, “Find shelter, okay? Stay inside.”

Bucky’s not planning to, but he can’t find it in him to tell that to this incredible man, so he slowly licks his lips and nods. Before turning around to leave, the man offers him a small, shy smile.

- - - - -

During the next few weeks after the Chitauri attack on NYC, every single piece of footage of the Avengers fighting against the aliens and helping civilians goes viral. Phone videos, security cameras, blurry pics.

The most popular, by far, is a snapshot of Captain America carrying a guy, who can be seen fighting aliens and helping people in other videos, bridal style, thumb caressing his jaw, and both looking like lovestruck teenagers.

Bucky can’t go to the grocery store or even do his job without being stalked by the paparazzi or Cap’s groupies or just random people wanting to know what his Avenger name is, and for how long he’s been dating Captain America.

- - - - -

“You’ve ruined my life!!” Bucky tells him, because of course, of course Captain America would pick Bucky’s park for his morning run. Of course Bucky’d slip on wet leaves on the pavement precisely this morning, and of fucking course Captain America would just happen to be around to catch him at just the right time. Bucky’s seeing red.

“I’m sorry,” Captain America says, and it’s extremely unfair just how genuine and how much like a kicked puppy he looks.

Christ, Bucky wants to punch him.

- - - - -

Steve’s been living in PR hell.

He’s spent the past weeks “saving” girls and boys alike from getting hit by a bicycle, or fainting, or a fuckton of equally stupid shit.

The second anyone spots Captain America, there’ll suddenly be some kind of dangerous situation going down, and someone hoping Cap will carry them bridal style to safety and maybe fall head over heels in love with them in the process.

Steve is tired and done and ready to get back in the ice for another few decades, and shares Pepper’s worries that someone might actually put themself in real danger soon.

“We should handle this before it gets worse,” Nat says. And Steve agrees, of course, but he just doesn’t know how.

“Just marry the guy,” Clint suggests.

Steve almost chokes to death on his own spit.

“WHAT?”

Clint shrugs. “Why not? Half the world already thinks you’re dating…”

“Clint, he hates me…”

“Only cause people keep pestering him about this. If you two get married it’ll be a circus, but then it’ll blow over. He can’t even do his job right now, right? So you pay the guy for the trouble, yadda yadda, then when this is over you two get a quick divorce, and that’s it. Problem solved.”

For two minutes, no one else opens their mouth. Then:

“He’s got a point…”

“Tony, no,” Steve whines.

“You saw the footage, how he was helping those civilians… If you have to marry someone, he’s not a bad candidate,” Nat says, and then smirks. “Plus, he’s cute.”

Steve already knows he’s lost this battle, but that doesn’t help him feel any better about this. Yes, he’s cute. Yes, he’s a brave and kind and smart guy. Yes, Steve could very easily pretend to be married to him for a while and yes it’d help them both. None of that’s the problem.

The problem is that he kind of really likes the guy.

The problem is that the guy hates him.

This is a really, really bad idea.

skam fic rec masterpost

so i love reading fic, its like my favorite pass time and that’s all i’ve been doing for the past three months so here’s a huge fic rec list of some fics that i have read and am currently reading and im in love with

big thanks to fic writers! yall are amazing and so important to the fandom <3

a lot of these authors are also on tumblr im sure but i don’t have all the urls so i’m gonna put the ao3 usernames for now. please if you’re on tumblr and would like your url to be in this instead of your ao3 username, just holla at me and ill change it! <3

(ps i’m so sorry i had to shorten up the summaries on some of them so it wouldnt be too long!!)

(pps i update this very frequently as i read so feel free to come back from time to time to look for any new fics!)

make sure you read the trigger warnings for some fics as they can get angsty

okay here we go :) happy reading <3

Keep reading

EVAK FANFICS RECS / PART 8

ONESHOTS:

  • Confess by eiqhties  
    Summary: In retrospect, it probably wasn’t something he should have said when Even had a toothbrush shoved in his mouth. 

  • jeg tror du ser søte by ufologies
    Summary: Isak has to get glasses for a bit and Even reacts to it.

  • Holy by i_once_wrote_a_dream
    Summary: childhood friends!au; It was a Wednesday when he first saw him. Isak thought he looked like one of his mama’s angels. 

MORE UNDER THE CUT 

Keep reading

Shades of Blue

For @azure-mirror, just because. Kind of based off of @marchingspace‘s Synesthesia AU (found here). Everything I know about Synesthesia comes from books and wikipedia. Put under a cut to save space. 


Colors. There were too many colors. His lion was red, always red, but today she was a softer red, like she knew, like she was trying to calm him down, like she could sense the pounding sensation in his forehead. Maybe she could. Keith didn’t know how the lions worked, not really. Maybe they could read their thoughts, knew their emotions, could adjust to help their paladins. That would be nice.

Pidge was bright, too bright sometimes, their voice sliding between octaves of lime and emerald and forest that made Keith’s headache worse. They didn’t mean to, he knew that.

Hunk was warmer, easier to be around unless he got excited. His autumn color switched then, from the fall yellow of maple leaves to the brightness of the sun. It hurt Keith’s eyes. It made him wonder if Hunk had always been yellow, or if he only was because of his lion.

If all of them were because of their lions.

But they weren’t, because Shiro was brown when he spoke. He was cinnamon when he commanded them, chocolate when he was scared. Sometimes it was almost black, but brown wasn’t usually too vibrant for Keith. He liked being around Shiro because he was calm, because he was brown.

Coran was good too, unless he was excited. He was an orange that made Keith think of leaf piles and pumpkins, but if he got too ecstatic over something he became the ugly orange of a traffic cone. Allura was a mixture of pinks and purples and reds, her voice like honeysuckle flowers and warmth. But she was too many colors for Keith, constantly fluctuating.

And Lance…

“Keith?”

Keep reading

Pulse Part 10

Part 9

Genre: Light angst, fluff if you squint, mostly a filler
Words: 2,250
Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: Injuries, mentions of an aggressive stalker
Summary: Soulmate AU in which one’s heartbeat becomes perfectly in sync with their soulmate’s once they meet.

Originally posted by fuckyeahtonystark


“What the hell were you thinking?”

The words were out of his lips the moment the door had shut behind Peter. They were sharp, and his tongue stressed the curse word, caressing it in a way that drew your attention to his anger. It was obvious in his tone, in the tension of his jaw…

But his eyes told a whole different story. The blue in them, normally sparkling like seawater inspiring you to dive in, looked so dull. They had a panicked look to them now, but they also looked emotionally exhausted, as if behind his eyes, deep down in the core of his being, he didn’t have much left to give. He looked so tired, and the dark circles under his eyes proved him to be.

His shoulders were slumped forward, and he looked as if he were about to fall at any second. But as your eyes traveled toward his hands, you felt guilty, because they were trembling by his sides.

You knew he must have seen you notice because in the next second, his hands were balled into fists to stop the shaking and he was looking away from you.

Keep reading

No Time to Speak

Alright, so, yeah.

The’s one for @lunathewolfwarrior ; so like, buddy, hope u like it, I’m sorry for not killing Keith but I’m weak so yeah. 

The scenario is simple, kay? Based on the titanic’s scene so hey, there it is!

Contains: Hurt/Comfort, slight angst?, Klance, NO ONE DIES OK? Pre-relationship but they are close and mushy, idk man, I told u, there is no logic whatsoever. They were pining and now they are not!

*Twirls fringer* On to the fic already. Enjoy.


Lance puffs another breath and his mouth twitches upward when the faint warm smoke reminds him of ‘dragon breath’, as his nephew would call it.

His not-so-smile drops when another dragon breath comes and mingles with his own, this one fainter and weaker.

Lance’s eyes fall on Keith’s in an instant.

“K-Keith.” He calls quietly, jaw trembling and lower lip quivering along, “K-Keith, come on. It’s - It’s my turn.”

Keith huffs one more time before he shakes his head, shifting in the slightest on the edge of the wooden plank Lance’s laying on top of before tightening his grip on Lance’s hand.

“I’m – I’m okay.” Keith replies after a few seconds in silence, softly and small, “I’m okay, L-Lance.”

He’s not. Lance can see the way his jaw tenses, trying in vain to stop his teeth from clattering. His lips are blue, taking a shade of purple around the corners. His eyelids drop every few seconds, making Lance’s heart to skip a beat every time his eyes stay close for more than a two ticks.

Lance can see the way their intertwined hands shake but he doesn’t feel a thing.

He can’t feel his hand. He can’t feel Keith’s squeeze on his fingers as he tries uselessly to warm him up or the soft brush of Keith’s thumb on the top of his hand.

There’re no more shivers running down his spine, the icy temperature around them taking its hold on them and it doesn’t help that they are not able to get out of the freezing water, thermic suits damaged earlier  and no other way to provide warm but with each other’s bodies.

Lance whimpers quietly, staring helplessly at Keith’s lower body being hidden by the dark waters below them. He leans forward until his forehead bumps against the wooden plank’s surface before raising his eyes once again to meet Keith’s tired ones.

“Keith, pl-please.” Lance pleads, trying to catch the black haired man attention by moving their hands a little, “We - We agreed on switching places –  You can’t just – You need –”

“Hey.” Keith cuts off, gently and softly, “Your leg i-is still wo-wounded. We need it above the - the surface to -to avoid in- infection, ok-okay? We -We agreed on that.”

Lance shakes his head, eyes bright and desperate. “I-I didn’t – You  never said any -anything about you staying on - on the water, Ke - Keith.”

Half of their armor was gone, the thin black suit underneath barely doing any comfort to their cold bodies. Lance had demanded for both of them to be on the only available floating surface around them.

Keith had refused at first, saying that Lance’s leg needed more room and keep it from jolting it too much. The brunet was restless though, something that changed when they tried to balanced each other in the small plank and both of them ended up on the icy waters, aggravating even more Lance’s open wound.

Keith refused to try again, snapping angrily and in concern as he had pushed the brunet up on the plank, ignoring Lance’s complaints, and then he settle himself on the edge of the wood, upper body on the surface while he kicked his legs under water to keep himself afloat.

They haven’t moved since then.

Lance is not aware of how much time has passed; the seconds seem longer, even slower than ticks, and he can’t make his brain to function enough to make sure how long has Keith’s been under the water now. He can’t calculate the damage it will have on him, he doesn’t know how much longer he can survive like this.

“K-Keith.” Lance calls once more time, letting out a sigh when Keith snaps his eyes open at the calling, looking a little disoriented, “You can’t  keep – We don’t know how lo-long – You n-need to – We need to do some- something.”

Keith stays silent and Lance frowns.

“K-Keith –”

“It’s – It’s fine, L-Lance.” Keith reassurance and Lance’s heart aches at the trembling smile on his teammate’s lips, “My –My Galra blood keeps me wa-warm enough. You - You wouldn’t – It’s okay.”

Keep reading

4 Jikook Soulmate AUs

1. Hair Woes

*Jimin loves dying his hair. Cotton candy pink, tangerine orange, platinum blonde, silver, you name it. He’s probably done it. He does so in hopes that he’ll see someone with the exact same shade as him to identify his soulmate.

*Jungkook is simple, he doesn’t plan on changing his black hair but his soulmate has different ideas. 

*He wakes up one day with a shock of baby pink hair and chokes on a scream. Brown was fine, blonde was fine, hell even orange or red was fine. But now he looks like a poofy cone of cotton candy and that totally clashes with the ocean blue t-shirt he was planning on wearing. 

*Jungkook grumbles while he tugs his black sweater sweater over his head, the only thing that looked okay in his eyes. His friends were never going to let him live down his image as the puffball he so vehemently denied being. 

*Jimin walks to his first class with a bounce in his step, feeling fresh with his new hair color. He spots a tuft of pastel pink hair in the distance and frowns because he thought he was the only one on campus to try that hair color first. 

*But then the boy catches sight of him and starts charging in his direction, finger pointed straight at him. Jimin points at his own chest, “Me?”

* “YOU! OF ALL COLORS!” And then it clicks, the fuming boy in front of him (he kind of looks like a puffed up bunny…) is his soulmate, which is why he had the same hair color. So his strategy did work after all. 

*Jimin envelops him in a hug immediately, catching Jungkook off-guard and effectively shutting him up. 

* “Nice to meet you soulmate! My name is Jimin! What’s your name?” The cheeriness drains the irritation out of Jungkook and replaces it with sudden shyness and a tiny squeak of “J-Jungkook.”

*Later, Jimin manages to convince Jungkook to let him keep the pink hair for a few weeks until he dyes it back to a soft hazel brown. He agrees on the condition that Jimin lets him borrow his sweaters since his clothes happen to match the crazy colors better than Jungkook’s collection of plain t-shirts. 

2. Complete the Heart

*Jungkook has half of a black and white chrysanthemum flower imprinted on his wrist, incomplete until he meets his soulmate. At least that’s what the expert who looked at his wrist said. 

*He meets Jimin through Taehyung and feels himself crushing hard immediately.  His face falls in disappointment when he sees that the half of a flower on Jimin’s wrist is a black and white dahlia, the flower he sees all the time on Hoseok hyung’s wrist. 

*But Jimin grabs his wrist once he sees it, eyes lighting up in excitement. “I finally met you! I’ve been looking for my soulmate for years!”

*Jungkook looks at him in confusion, because his soulmate is Hoseok hyung, not him no matter how much he wants it to be. 

*Then Jimin puts their wrists side-by-side and Jungkook’s eyes widen as they complete each other perfectly. “I thought…isn’t your flower a dahlia?”

*Jimin smiles at him, “No, a lot of people mistake it for dahlia flowers, but it’s actually a chrysanthemum. They look really similar don’t they?”

*Jungkook’s mouth quirks up in a smile because he got what he wanted for once in his life. 

3. Mental Link

*Voices start sounding in Jungkook’s head once he turns 18 which means his soulmate had turned 18 before him, his hyung. 

*At first he was annoyed, but he learned to tune it out when necessary. 

*Jimin was pleasantly surprised when he heard a soft, breathy voice in his head beside his. He decided he loved his soulmate’s voice the moment he heard it. 

*They’d met rather quickly, deciding on a cafe they both knew. Jungkook was very thankful he’d gotten lucky enough to meet his wonderful soulmate so early. 

*Their mental connection is rather handy. Jungkook has troubles in math so Jimin tells him what to do in his head during a test. That doesn’t count as cheating…right?

*When Jimin is bored in philosophy class (listening to Namjoon go on and on about the wonders of philosophy), he talks to Jungkook in his head. But that just means he randomly bursts out into laughter which makes everybody look at him weirdly. 

*Jimin gets worried when the voice in his head isn’t there. Turns out Jungkook is just spacing out and literally has no thoughts running through his head which explains the silence. He smacks the younger on the head when they see each other again. 

*Another time Jimin wants to hit his soulmate is when Jungkook reads hardcore smut and forgets that yes, Jimin can hear him reading out loud in his head. What’s worse is that Jimin needs to keep a straight face while he gives this presentation on the male anatomy. 

4. Red Strings

*Jimin has always been fascinated by the thing red string tied to his pinky, seeming to never end until he found his soulmate. 

*On the other hand, Jungkook gets annoyed. He has to tug at it in irritation when it gets caught on the car door or gets tangled up and knotted. But he doesn’t dare cut it loose, scared of breaking the bond.

*Jimin’s side of the string is smooth and intact while Jungkook’s side is frayed and little worn-down but still good. 

*Jimin decides to follow his string on a whim. Jungkook feels a tugging on his pinky and yanks at it, brushing it off. 

*The tugging gets more frequent until he yanks one more time and a small ‘oof’ is heard. He looks up and sees Jimin sprawled on the ground, Jungkook’s sudden yank on the string he was following pulling him down. 

* “Oh. My. God. I’m so sorry!” Jungkook helps him up immediately, not fully registering that he found his soulmate. 

*They spend the time getting to know each other (well Jungkook can’t even look Jimin in the eye yet), swapping phone numbers and promising to text.

*Jungkook plays with his string at night, tugging on it and wondering if Jimin can feel it on the other side. 

*Jimin often fiddles with the string when he’s nervous like he can feel Jungkook’s presence on the other side and relaxes. 

Ocean Soldier (Part 1 out of ?)

(A/N): I literally have no excuse for this other than I love mermaid Bucky so

Summary: (Y/N) happens to come across a rather friendly mermaid

Warnings: none?


Originally posted by little-messs

   The sun was just barely rising, the beach was quiet, no birds about squawking, no children running around carrying greasy hot dogs, no music of beach goers, just you, the sunset, and the ocean. With a pleasant sigh you settled down onto one of the docks surrounding the ocean. 

   You pick up a pencil and begin to gently sketch the purple and pink hues of the sky, your pencil gingerly shading along the half orb you had drawn for the sun. You bite your lip in concentration, looking from your paper up to the sky and back down to your paper again. Every so often you’d switch colors, truly wanting to capture the beauty of the sun and sky- 

   A gentle slap of the ocean is what grabs your attention. Sure, waves had been rolling in all day, sloping against the wooden posts if the docks, or against boats or sea cliffs but this one sounded different- sharper perhaps? It was much more clear and concise, more like a smack than anything else. The kind of sounds you got when a fish was squirming to get back in the water. You perk your head up and look around but alas there was nothing to see other than the vast expanse of salty water. That’s when you hear it again- that distinct smacking sound only now it was louder, and perhaps a bit faster than the last smack. It sounded panicked or frenzied if you thought about it.

    You rise from your spot on the dock, looking around the docks and seashore to see where if perhaps there was any animal who had gotten stuck in some Plastic or perhaps just needed some help getting back to sea. Your eyes search along the shore, between the boats, even against the cliffs before circling back around. Your eyes don’t particularly catch on anything but your ears certainly do, the smacking sound comes again and again and again, each slap more panicked than the last and it was loud, much too loud to be far away and that’s when you realized the boats closest to you were so large that you couldn’t see behind them or over them and perhaps whatever creature was stuck was hidden behind one of those.

    You run to the base of the dock and to where the boats attach to the wooden planks and your eyes begin to search, scanning up and down the rows until you spotted something. And that’s when you see it, a gleam of silver in the purple sun, the scales of some fish as it struggles in a fallen net. Shit, you think to yourself as you run towards that particular dock, already dropping to your knees to help wrangle the poor creature free but what you see is most definitely not what you were expecting. Rather than some fish staring back at you with beady eyes you were faced with a man with rather large, beautiful shining blue orbs. 

   You stare at the mans face for what feels like forever before you snap out if your reverie, blinking lazily to clear your thoughts.

    “Oh my god,” you whisper as you suddenly come to terms with the fact that a man had gotten himself tangled in this net. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” The man doesn’t respond, he simply stares back at you with these giant almost pleading puppy dog- esque eyes.  "What happened? How did you fall in?“ You try some more questions but yet again the man doesn’t answer. He doesn’t respond with any words but some strange vibrations rattles the air and it takes you a minute to realize that this man is the one making the noise, a sad, almost depressed little whimper in his throat. "Okay,” you whisper as you lift up chunks of the net attempting to figure out how he was tangled. “Lets get you out of this,” You lift up the net as you pull it towards you but it gets caught on something, something almost triangular but almost soft when you tugged hard enough. 

   The man whimpers, reaching up Through the net to grab at your hands, silently begging you to stop. You comply, immediately stopping the pulling. But rather than focusing on getting the poor Man free your eyes are suddenly glued to something else, his hands. They would have looked like any other ordinary pair of hands if it weren’t for the fact that they were webbed and smooth, giving them a glossy like appearance. His nails came to sharp little points, like tiny little daggers attached to his flesh. You stare at his hands, half tempted to even touch them but suddenly the man starts up with his cries again, that low, depressed throaty noise that had your heart aching.

    “Oh god, I’m so sorry,” you whisper, attempting to get back to work. You twist and pull at the net at all sorts of different angles, trying to free the man but each attempt only brought you more whimpers and more squirming. 

   “Shit,” You whisper as you stop struggling against the net, slumping down onto the dock in defeat. The man looks at you with concerned eyes, his sad noises starting back up again. “I- I don’t know how to help,” You mutter weakly, your tone nearly exhausted at this point. The man whimpers some more, his clawed hands reaching to attempt to tear the net away from his body. “Wait- stop,” You sigh as you reach down to grab his hands, trying to stop him from causing any more damage. “You’re gonna cut yourself-” The man becomes more panicked in his movements as you grip his wrist only now he was attempting to yank his grip from your yours rather than the nets. “I’m not gonna hurt you!” You attempt to calm him but it was no use, he was struggling and he was struggling hard. With one hard tug your knees slip on the dock, pulling you close to the waters edge. In fact, you’re just about to let go when the man gives one final tug, pulling you into the water with him. 

   Immediately water fills your lungs and you’re damn sure you scrape your feet along something sharp because the pain shooting into your legs most definitely isn’t normal. You bob back up to the surface, gasping for water as you hack up whatever you had swallowed all the while trying to wipe the water from your eyes. You cough a little as some water bubbles into your throat and out of your mouth, spraying back into the salty abyss. The man goes rigid, staring at you in pure fear and shock, his blue eyes widening in surprise.

   “What the hell?” You deadpan, glaring at him with an angry gaze. “You could have killed me!” The man recoils just a tiny bit, those small whimpers bubbling in his throat again. You sigh as you paddle the water about you gently, keeping you afloat long enough to converse with this mysterious man. “I’m sorry- I get you’re probably stressed being caught in here but I’m just trying to help,” You give him what you hope looks like a sympathetic smile. “Can I try to help with the net?” You ask, gesturing to the offending material. The man looks at you and back to the net and back to you again, biting his lip in thought. 

   You can’t help but notice the way his teeth came to a perfect little point, just like his nails, like tiny daggers buried into his body. Sharp nails, sharp teeth, he wasn’t speaking to you, what the hell was wrong with this guy? But before your anger could bubble again the man nods, squirming just a bit within the water. You give him a grateful little smile as you paddle towards him, stopping just shy of his torso. The closer you got the more you realized just how beautiful this man was, with baby blues and stunningly dark hair, not to mention a strikingly strong jaw line and amazing cheek bones. Even with his strange hands and teeth you couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit attracted to him. 

   “You’re not gonna try to drown me are ya?” You ask only half jokingly, the other half completely meaning the question. The man looks at you with those damn puppy eyes, shaking his head softly. He almost looked offended by the question if you thought about it but you didn’t have time to gawk at his face, you had to help free him from the net. With a determined albeit hesitant smile you reach out to gingerly work the net away from his chest, trying so desperately not to brush your fingers over his milky skin. 

   You gulp as you reach up, slowly but surely freeing his head from the net. It’s then, with your fingers grazing along his neck that you notice something, three small cuts along either side of his neck, pulsating as you moved your fingers along. You can’t help but stare at them, perhaps out of morbid curiosity, your eyes glued to the pink flesh of each cut. If you truly thought about it they actually looked like gills of some sort, just like the ones of fishes your father had brought home all those years ago. The man squirms, making some noise in the back of his throat under your intense gaze. You snap out of your trance again, electing to ignore the strange cuts until you freed the man from the net. 

   “Almost done,” You whisper as you let the top part of the net fall in front of him, all you had to do now was free his legs and- The man reaches down with his own hands- webbed might you add- and rips the remaining net to shreds, nearly ripping it from his legs like some animal. There’s another smack of water and suddenly the man disappears, completely gone after the water calms. You look around, twisting your body to get a good look around but alas you found nothing, not even a trace of the net he’d been confined in. Sure, you thought this was rather strange but you dismissed it as the chill of the freezing water began to set in. You give one last look to the ocean before climbing back onto the dock, shivering within your skin as you meander back to your art supplies. 

   Your clothes had been soiled by the water and you were freezing, the sun was far too high in the sky to sketch now and thus your morning had been slightly ruined. With an unhappy little sigh you bend down and pick up your supplies and shoes before making your way back towards land, shuffling as water pooled from your shorts. 

   You wince as pain spreads throughout your feet and something wet slops below you. You look down, grimacing when you noticed the thick red liquid oozing from the bottom of your feet. Guess you really had cut yourself on something. You mentally curse yourself as you limp towards land, most definitely not looking forward to going home and having to clean your wounds up. Grumbling angrily to yourself you waddle onto the sand, nearly yelling in pain as the sand seeps into your blood. God, is this what you got for saving someone’s life? Next time, you begged the universe to remind you to never help someone out again. You stomp as best as you could to your car, an angry cloud of hate brewing over your head. In fact you were in such a bad mood that you failed to realize a certain man staring at you from a few miles in the sea. 


    The next day you tried the shore again, this time picking a different dock to sit on and sketch from. This time you picked on closer to shore, just to be on the safer side and once you had gotten comfy you began to sketch, hoping to complete your picture today but when you had only been drawing for five minutes you were suddenly interrupted. That telltale smacking sound resounded around you and all of a sudden an almost familiar head of black hair bobs above the water, only the man’s eyes and nose visible. 

   “Have you come to drag me into the water again?” You ask, a hint of smugness to your tone as you look back down to your drawing, completely dismissing the man. The man shakes his head, a look of remorse crossing his only visible features. “Are you ever going to talk to me?” You ask, suddenly setting down you art to look at him. “I saved you, you nearly killed me, and I don’t even know your name,” The man looks up to you then to your pencil and sketch pad. You follow his gaze, your own landing upon the pencil and paper. “Do you want to write it down?” You ask, the man nods and suddenly he bobs from the water, resting his elbows upon the dock as you hand him a piece of paper and the pencil. He quickly jots down a few words before handing the paper back to you. 

   James Buchanan Barnes

   You smile at his choppy hand writing, it was cute if you really looked at it. “James?” You question, looking  at his name again. The man reaches for the pencil and the paper, quickly jotting down a few more words before handing them back to you. 

   I like Bucky better 

   You smile even more, nodding. “Bucky it is then. So uh Bucky-” You test the name on your tongue, allowing the taste of it to settle in. You liked it. “Any reason you’re using up all my paper?” You joke but the look of regret that crosses Bucky’s features has your chuckling coming to a stop. “I’m sorry, I uh- I didn’t mean to offend you or…” You trail off as Bucky grabs the pencil and paper again, proceeding to write out another message. 

   I’m sorry, I can stop using your paper if you’d like me to

  “No, no!” You quickly say, “I was just giving you shit, I really don’t mind,” Bucky looks at you for a moment before looking back at the pencil in his hand. 

    You really don’t?

   “I promise,” You smile at him, hoping the small gesture reassured him. Bucky smiles, a small quirk of his lip is all, but it was a start. “So…you really like the water huh?” You ask, chuckling awkwardly at your own question. Bucky apparently doesn’t seem to notice as he nods, looking down to the water almost fondly. “Even after the whole…” You wave your hand, coughing a bit as you allude to the incident the previous morning. “The whole net thing?” Bucky’s brow creases as he reaches for the paper, quickly jotting something down before handing it back to you. 

   I’m sorry I dragged you in, I was just scared is all

   You smile once more, his words alighting something within your heart. “It’s okay, nothing I couldn’t handle,” Bucky nods, his eyes wandering about the scenery almost lazily when suddenly his eyes land on your bandaged feet. You’d gotten home, cleaned the deep cuts out and went in to get stitches and now here you were again, sitting in the same place that gave you the cuts. Bucky pouts as he reaches out with a webbed finger, gingerly running his nail along the white bandage. 

   “Be careful,” You warn softly, not wishing to startle him. “It’s uh- it’s pretty sore,” Bucky pouts as he reaches out for the paper and pencil again, quickly jotting something down before shoving it towards you. 

   What happened?

   You bite your lip, contemplating whether or not you should tell him what exactly you had done. “Um, I just cut them up a bit, it was a complete accident,” You add, hoping he didn’t suspect you had cut your feet when you fell in. Bucky nods, reaching out again to run his clawed fingers along the bandage. 

   “Buck?” You ask hesitantly, biting your lip as you stare at his hands, his very strange, not at all human like hands. The man hums, a low purring like sound issuing from the back of his throat. “Can I uh- Can I ask a question?” Bucky nods as he pulls away a bit, resting his folded arm on the dock to keep part of his body up out of the water. "What’s with the hands?“ You gesture to his, specifically to the webbing. Bucky looks at his hands, a sudden blush rising to his pale skin. He quickly hides his hands under his arms, hiding his face in the flesh part of his elbow. 

    "I’m sorry,” to attempt to backtrack, already feeling horrible. “I didn’t mean to make you feel embarrassed, they’re just different from mine, see?” You hold a hand up, showcasing your short, trimmed nails and most definitely not webbed fingers. Bucky poked his head up a bit, looking at you with uncertain eyes. His piercing gaze then falls to your hand, the blue orbs scrutinizing each finger as he stares. He cocks his head to the side as he studies it, almost with a childlike curiosity.

    He gently shifts his arms, hesitantly pulling his hand out from hiding an slowly but surely raising it to yours. It even felt different, it was slimy, practically clammy against your own but it wasn’t unpleasant. He studies the two hands together, pushing his fingers against yours only to pull them back again, he looks at his webbing and then yours, studying his webbed hands almost distastefully. He then moves onto the nails, studying your small stubby ones and then his long, jagged ones. He hums softly, cocking his head to the other side as he places his fingers between yours, watching the way they only went so far due to his webbing. He was studying you like he’d never seen another human being before and at this point you were starting to think he hadn’t…

2

***so today I saw the most beautiful picture of lili in this pink princess gown and I had to write a bughead fanfic about princess Betty!****


“she’s beautiful, I saw her with my own eyes. you wouldn’t believe how gorgeous she was.” Lady Veronica Lodge, gushed excitedly as she fanned herself and struggled to sit down in her tightly corseted dress.

Kevin Keller nodded dreamily, he was the executioners son but he could not be more different from his sadistic father
“The blue gown she was wearing looked like it was made of the softest silk I’ve ever seen! And her hair, she most definitely is the most stunning princess we’ve ever had grace Riverdale.”

“Yes but did you hear of the trouble she has caused in her kingdom, the people of Pembrooke love her dearly but she has caused a stir by refusing to be married off, she won’t settle for an arranged marriage and with the deaths of her parents she is soon to be queen, the decision is solely hers.” Josie McCoy stated ,the towns troubadour, she sang at nearly all of the pubs and royal events.

Jugheads interest was peaked, he had never heard of anyone refusing arrangement, especially royalty. Being of the lowest class he never paid attention to petty gossip in regards to the court, he was just grateful he would not be married off, no one wanted his hand, he had nothing to offer and the women of Riverdale knew that. He was a builder just like his father, he lived in the slums and took whatever jobs he could gain, he went hungry more often than not. fortunately for Jughead, Lady Veronica always managed to have endless supplies of odd foods. The friendship between Kevin, Veronica, Josie and Jughead was quite different. They all came from separate social classes but came together over broken families and responsibility, they had met in day school years ago and had forged a bond that had remained true.

“Well I think it’s Romantic. She’s waiting for love! Although Prince Archie is quite the catch, he’s the most handsome boy in all of the surrounding lands.” Veronica swooned, her chin in her palm as she stared longingly at the water in the distance.

There was a commotion arising from their left as the four teens turned to see what was causing all the noise.

The most beautiful creature Jughead had ever seen in his entire life was headed their way, golden hair the color of sunshine was pinned neatly above her head, whisps falling into her face, her lips were perfectly pink and her skin looked soft enough to sleep on, his eyes drew down her body and he took in her cinched waist, she was draped in varying shades of green fabric that made her meadow eyes appear to glimmers. She walked almost as if she were floating, every move she made was delicate and graceful, her fingers fluttering by her side.

“That’s her. That’s the princess!” Kevin exclaimed, hopping to his feet and smoothing out his hair, he held a hand out to Veronica and she adjusted herself as well. Jughead was frozen in his spot, she wasn’t looking their way but he could feel her presence burning his skin, she was almost to them when a young boy hobbled to her side, scrambling out of his mothers arms

“Princess Elizabeth! Princess Elizabeth!” He shouted, causing the beautiful blonde to turn towards the tiny voice, her guards stepping aside carelessly, it appeared that this was a common thing.

The little boy waddled towards her and reached a hand out to the shiny silk of her skirt, his dirty fingers grabbing for it. The entire line of people gasped, holding their breath to see what happened next. There were rules, a peddler had accidentally gotten dirt on the last princess who came through and he was sent away, after a particularly nasty snarl and slew of unladylike words the man was hurled into the back of a buggy and never seen again.

But not Princess Elizabeth, she bent down quickly, her heels digging into the dirt

“Well hello love.” She grinned, holding out the hem of her skirt so the little boy could have a closer look. “It’s green, just like your eyes.” She gently tapped the toddler on his nose and he giggled, before stepping back. The mother came forward quickly

“My sincerest apologies princess, he knows no better.” The woman’s eyes were frantic as she stepped in front of her son.

sparkling green eyes stared in gentle confusion as the young royalty smiled so softly it set the entire town at ease.

“You needn’t apologize for your child, curious minds will build our new nation.” Elizabeth bent down and spoke to the shaky toddler “never fear asking questions love, your mind will shape this kingdom.” Pressing a kiss to his cheek she stood carefully and waved, heading back to her guards and ignoring the quiet murmurs of shock.

Jugheads heart was pounding in his chest, she was exceptional, she was kind and caring and beautiful, compassionate and wise.
“Wow.” He mumbled.

And then almost as in a movie, she was standing before the group, her eyes locking in on his stormy ones intently.

“Hello.” She smiled, scanning the faces of the teens.

“Your Highness.” Veronica curtsied

“Princess Elizabeth, it is an honor.” Kevin gaped.

Josie nodded excitedly
“Your Highness.” She echoed Veronica.

“Oh no, I feel as though we may be the same age, are we not? You mustn’t call me anything other than Betty, I would love greatly to know your names.” Her eyes lingered on Jughead, he opened his mouth to speak but was quickly cut off.

“I am Veronica Lodge. I am so incredibly excited to meet you. Your gown is beautiful.” She beamed, her leg bouncing.

Kevin went quickly after
“Kevin Keller, I second the notion on the gown you are a vision Princess.”

“I’m Josie McCoy, always an honor.” She smiled softly.

It was Jugheads turn and he wasn’t even sure he could speak.

“Forsythe Jones” he mumbled out, his hands fidgeting.

“Forsythe.” Betty spoke his name out loud and he winced

“Actually, people call me Jughead.” He wanted so desperately to hear his name of choice come from her pretty lips.

“Jughead.” She nodded finally, dimples poking free. “I like that very much.”

Jughead felt the heat of his blush rising as he ran a hand through his mop of dark raven hair.

“Princess, I’m sorry to interrupt but we must go.
You’ve a meeting with the liege of this kingdom.”
A man looked over Betty with a welcoming smile.

The princess seemed slightly taken aback
“Oh yes, of course. I simply lost of track of time, Thankyou Pops.” She placed a hand on the mans arm and he headed back slowly, Betty turned back to the group

“You must come to the ball that is being thrown tonight! I fear it will be filled with stuffy royalty.” She giggled behind her hand as all of the teens stared at her with wide eyes “I can say that because I am indeed one of them. I will get your names on the list. I beg of you please, I feel as though I would like to be your friend.” Her eyes settled on his and he swallowed, nodding slowly.

“Of course, it is an honor to attend the queens ball.” Veronica was nearly crying in excitement, Kevin had grabbed her fan and was fanning himself.
“We will be in attendance” Josie grinned smoothly.

“Princess Elizabeth.” The man called Pops spoke again.

“I really must go. I hope to see you there.” Her smile was breathtaking as she walked back to the buggy.

He watched as the cart drove off, there was no way he was missing this ball… the main question of course was…

What on earth was he going to wear?

anonymous asked:

for that ronan and adam thing: honestly i just really love the idea of really tired adam (having school in the morning then two jobs + studying and college applications) just coming home to st agnes and ronans just THERE and he literally collapses into his boyfriend and ronans like "god adam, you cant even stand up" and cUDDLES AND TAKES CARE OF HIM AND JUST!!! NORMAL LIL TEENS IN LOVE FOR .2 SECONDS IS MY KINK

DAMN THESE TWO ARE SO AMAZING TO WRITE I LOVE THEM



The street lamps were too bright, the world was too dark.

His feet were too heavy. His back was too stiff, his hands were too cracked.

His work was too much, his pockets were too empty.

It was too much. It wasn’t enough.

Adam adjusted his messenger bag sluggishly, keeping his finger pressed to the outer bottom corner where the edge of his Latin textbook was threatening to fall through and cause more damage to the worn leather. The constant pressure made his bones grind, wing bone pressing tightly against his skin.

There’d been a test in Latin today. He’d done well, he knew he had. He’d recited the verb endings to himself over and over again at the garage, chanting in his head, lips mouthing the vowels to the rhythm of his wrench-twisting wrist, to the beat of the barely working radio his boss always kept on in the break room, anything. It was good. It was the kind of work that could be done with other work.

School had been fine. He’d been tired, but it was fine. He could survive his shift at the garage. He had a granola bar. Only, then Marty had been sick today. And Adam didn’t have two cars to work on, he had four. He’d been given Marty’s work as overtime as a given, without being asked. It was an assumption. A slightly insulting one, but correct all the same. He needed the money. God, everyone knew he needed the money. But it meant this.

He’d gotten work done, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that it was close to two in the morning and he had to be up at six, ready and bright-eyed to start the cycle over again. Over and over. School, work, (sleep?), school, work, (sleep?), school….

Adam closed his eyes when he reached the church door. Pressing his hand to the wood, he let himself fall away for a moment, just a little. Wind only barely made it to his skin, leaves touched his fingertips so lightly that it prickled. Then he pulled back, opened his eyes, sighing. He’d fall over if he let himself relax to much, pass out right here outside of the church, like some unwanted child left by a un-needing mother. Adam almost smirked as he pushed at the door. How fitting.

It was the stairs that really got him. There were barely twelve of them but there might as well have been twelve hundred. He pushed his palm flat to the wall, swaying on the spot when he reached the sixth. He felt his cheek press against his hand and realized he was tilting to his left. He blinked open his eyes, which he hadn’t realized had closed, eyelashes brushing the satin wallpaper that lined the narrow stairwell. He hated this wall paper. It was patterned in leaves, green and shiny, with millions and millions of haloed angels among them, peaking out, hiding, clutching, smiling. He wanted to tear it, wanted to get Cabeswater to tear it, because nature had nothing to do with these angels, this God. God had nothing to do with nature. Nature was Cabsewater, it was separate. It had done everything for him, it had saved him, given him a purpose. Brought him Ronan. And what had God ever done for him? Given him a father that beat on him, a mother who turned a blind eye, and a deaf ear? They didn’t belong on the same wall, much less the same plane. Breathing hard, he pushed away, feet slamming on the last six steps and dragging down the dimly lit hallway.

His hand shook putting the key into the lock and he leaned his forehead against the cool wood, nearly stumbling over when the door clicked open. He went to turn his light on when he realized, after much too long a period to be normal, that it was already lit. The dim, shaded bulb cast the room in a foggy glow, or, more importantly, cast Ronan in a foggy glow. Ronan, beautiful, sharp Ronan sat sprawled on his bed, Chainsaw asleep on the window sill next to him, blue eyes blinking slowly up at him at first, then more alert. He sat up, Chainsaw only lifting her head from beneath her wing for a moment to make sure he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Took you long enough, Parish.” His mouth curved up slightly, “Your burrito is cold.”

Adam just stared at him, squinting his eyes, blinking hard.

He caught glimpses of Ronan’s face morphing into one of confusion, then worry, but it was like the room wouldn’t stay in focus, “Parish?”

Adam felt his bag drop from his shoulder and heard the unmistakable tear of leather. He cursed, but found his lips wouldn’t move enough to make the actual word, just a blurred version of it. Then he was falling. Then he wasn’t. He didn’t know if he had been falling for hours or seconds, but suddenly there were arms around his waist and breath against his neck. Time was gone, and all that was left was Ronan and the ache in Adam’s bones.

“Jesus.” Ronan was now saying, “Jesus, Adam-“ There was worry in Ronan’s voice that Adam didn’t often hear. It made it softer somehow, when worry usually made voices harder. But this was Ronan Lynch. This was Ronan. When was anything ever usual?

Adam couldn’t help it, he let his weight fall against Ronan’s chest, boots slipping against the floor, fingers digging into Ronan’s biceps. He expected Ronan to stumble against the sudden assault, but his arms just tightened, holding Adam against him, chest unmoving.

“Fuck, you can’t even- fucking stand. Fuck.”

When Adam blinked his eyes open next, he was on the bed, Ronan carefully pulling his feet up as well. It had only been a second then. It had felt like years. God, what would an entire night of sleep feel like? Death? Was that what it had come to? Sleep feeling like death? Was that how his body was trying to cope with the lack of it?

His inner ramble was cut off by quick fingers through his hair. He caught a glimpse of Ronan’s worried eyes and then all he could hear was the crinkling of a bag before his chest was being lifted up. He was confused. He would have expected pillows but he only had the one, and it certainly wouldn’t prop him up this high. Instead, he was met with the firmness of Ronan’s chest, the comfort of his arm across his stomach, his thighs snug against his hips, and the mouth of a water bottle pushing against his lips.

“Small sips.” Ronan’s voice was gruff, demanding, “Don’t fucking throw up on me, Parish.”

Adam did as he was told, but only for a second before his head was lolling back against Ronan’s chest, eyes slipping closed. He breathed heavily through his mouth.

“Ro…”

He felt Ronan sigh and stretch to put the water on the window sill, “Yeah. ‘m here.” He felt the fingers in his hair again, slower this time. He felt leather against his temple, then, “You aren’t going to school tomorrow.”

Adam opened his eyes at that, craning his neck backwards so he could see Ronan’s face, “Yes.”

Ronan looked down at him, their noses almost touching. He narrowed his eyes in a very Ronan-like way, “No.”

Honestly, Adam couldn’t argue. He was pretty sure he’d just passed out eleven times in the last five minutes. He already felt his eyes closing again, but he struggled against it, needing one more thing, “You’re going to school tomorrow.”

Ronan scoffed at him. The annoyed noise sounded odd paired with the soft way he was still stroking Adam’s hair back from his forehead, “No.”

Yes.”

Ronan rolled his eyes. Adam could see the way he was biting the insides of his lips, holding the words back. He slouched down on the measly rag of Adam’s pillow and made a face, “What the fuck is this?”

Adam just smiled a little, allowing his eyes to slip closed with the knowledge that Ronan was in for the night with him. He asked that question every time he intended to stay.

There were a few beats of silence. Adam didn’t know how he was still awake. But the air was filled with Ronan about to, waiting, unsure, needing to say something.

“You… You can’t do this.” Ronan’s fingers stilled in his hair, sliding down and tightening around his waist, “I can’t watch you do this.”

Adam mustered enough strength to sigh and roll onto his stomach, chest against chest, nose against neck, “Don’t want to talk about this now.”

Ronan growled a little in his throat, frustration, “You fucking- You fucking passed out-“

“Please.” Adam said against his skin. It was sticky from the humid night air, smelling strongly of grass and heat. If Adam hadn’t been so tired, he was sure he’d be kissing and licking every part of it he could reach by now. Maybe he’d dream of that instead.

Ronan sighed, pushing his cheek against Adam’s head, rubbing gently as if trying to calm himself. His voice came out a whisper when he spoke next, “Just let me get you a pillow. Please, just let me get you a fucking pillow. This is bullshit.”

Adam shushed him softly, already half asleep, ear catching each thump of Ronan’s heart, “Yes. You can buy me a pillow.”

He felt Ronan nod, then, a second later, “…two pillows. One for you and one for…”

Adam pressed a kiss to his jaw, “Two pillows.”

Scribble-Doodle: Beating Heart

MalecWeek2017, Day 5: Non-supernatural AU.

Magnus will never again take a thing as simple as a heartbeat for granted.


“How is he?” Jace asks and his voice is quiet, hesitant over the phone.

Magnus steps over to the French window and looks out into the sunlit backyard where Alec’s lying in a hammock in the shadow of a large tree, swinging gently back and forth in the light afternoon breeze.

“Resting,” Magnus answers with a little smile.

Keep reading

Don’t Come Down

Summary: Bucky takes you to a concert to give you an escape from your worries (Modern AU).

Word Count: 1,476

A/N: Part of the Lovely Little Lonely story collection, this fic is inspired by ‘Don’t Come Down’ by The Maine. 

Originally posted by 3rologirl3

Please…I’m begging you,” Bucky pleaded with a pout, clasping his hands together. “Please just do this one thing for me, and I won’t ask you to do this again. I promise.”

“Bucky, you know I can’t come with you. I have so many assignments to do. I can’t afford to lose any time to work on them,” you reasoned as your crush best friend groaned dramatically, lagging behind you as you made your way to the campus library. “Why don’t you ask Steve or Sam to go with you? I’m sure they’re able to.”

Keep reading

47. Metal Arm Kink

Word Count: 3,139
A/N: I got super carried away with this and I really hope I didn’t ramble and it comes off the way I want it to. Hope you enjoy it!
Summary: Bucky overhears Y/N talking with Natasha and Wanda about the things she wants him to do to her with his metal fingers. He’s happy to oblige. 
Written by: @mrssgtjamesbuckybarnes

Originally posted by retardell

As you walked into the compound, a bottle of wine in each hand, you couldn’t help the excitement bubbling in your chest. When you entered the common room, you were happy to see Natasha and Wanda already there, pizza and chips on the coffee table, and wine glasses ready to be filled. They looked up when you entered, cheering when they saw the alcohol in your hand. You sat on the floor with the couch to your back and handed Nat one of the bottles.

 “I’m so glad we’re doing this.” Wanda said as you opened the bottle of white wine and poured yourself a glass. “It feels like there’s so much testosterone in this place. It’ll be nice to be just us girls for a few hours.” You kicked your shoes off and leaned back, drink in hand. The guys had all decided that they needed a night out to relieve some stress. We had decided that a night involving sweaty, drunken strangers wasn’t something we were feeling so we decided to enjoy the quiet and have a girls’ night in.

Keep reading

3

Okay, another prompt is here! Sorry for not updating sooner, it’s a long fic once again lol! It is sad, angsty (I was listening to a lot of Placebo while writing so yeah) and it turns hot and heavy close to the end but then some fluff concludes it; basically it has it all! :P
Warning for mentions of violence, mild language and sexual themes. I hope you like it darlings and you don’t mind that I combined your awesome prompt ideas! Thank you so much for requesting! And to the rest of you, enjoy! <3

A small summary to tie the three prompts together: After an abrupt break up, Betty is left broken and confused by Jughead’s sudden behavior. Once finding out that he had joined the infamous gang of their small town, the Southside Serpents, Betty sets her mind to sneak into their lair with the only way she knows best. Along with the help of a sudden ally that she comes across on the way, they vow to save Jughead’s soul at all costs. 

(The long dialog in italics is a flashback)


Stars hide your fires;

Let not light see my black and deep desires.

The eye wink at the hand, yet let that be

Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see…

The black velvet of yet another eerie night had spread over the small town of Riverdale, the otherwise picturesque scenery of the alight sky now fearful and pitch black, an ominous sign and a bloodcurdling setting. It coordinated with her jet leather attire, her raven hair and the ghastly temperament that oozed from the cold-blooded sound of heels against dirty and wet asphalt. “Stars hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires…” Every click of stiletto punctuated each word her mind whispered on a loop to the depths of her subconscious, green eyes shining deadly through the darkness, like those of a wolf in hunt for its prey.

If anyone were to run into her on the street, they wouldn’t recognize her; nothing tied her with the image of the nonpareil younger daughter of the Cooper clan. Betty Cooper was dead, locked in the comfort of lavender and chamomile amongst collared sweaters and preppy knitted cardigans. For how long it was yet to be decided but, for tonight, the golden-hearted girl that everyone left behind was put to sleep under the naivety of false ambition and hopeless dreams. Her alter ago was there to deal with the mess the tedious angelic spectrum of her character always seemed to make.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I think it would be super cool to read a fanfic about Bughead meeting at like a support group for depression/self harm. Maybe they were friends when they were little and Jughead transferred schools and they haven't talked since and they catch up and then support each other through their issues :)

Ooohhh I love this idea! You’re so awesome anonymouse 🐭
****

“Are you sure you want to do this Elizabeth, you understand this is your choice correct?” Alice Cooper was gripping the steering wheel so tight Betty was sure she was going to rip into the leather.

“Yes mom. This is.. I have to.. if this works..I’m running out of options.” The beautiful blonde passenger whispered, voice closing with unrestrained anxiety.

Alice barely spared her a glance
“If you feel this is a positive thing then go on, why you can’t just stop that nasty habit of cutting yourself up I’ll never understand but since this is what the family counselor suggested I suppose I have no option. Go on and spread our dirty laundry to the world.” She hissed out bitterly.

Sighing silently, Betty reached over and pressed a kiss to her moms cheek.
“I’ll see you in an hour.” She stepped out of the car, her shoulders releasing pent up tension. She would definitely be driving herself here from now on.

“Had to hitch a ride with the slave driver too huh?”

Turning around at the unfamiliar voice, Betty came face to face with a beautiful African American girl, short brown hair and dark eyes, the gorgeous stranger stuck her hand out

“I’m maya, it’s nice to meet you.”

As soon as Betty reached for her hand Maya snapped it back, her whole body jerking forward causing Betty to stiffen instinctually.

“I’m so sorry! I have Tourette’s, I probably should have told you that first. Really I’m so sorry!” She shoved her hands in her pockets and made to scurry forward, but not before Betty’s hand reached out and gripped her forearm.

“I’m Betty Cooper. it’s nice to meet you too.” She gently smiled and began walking in sync with her new friend.

“You’re new here, first days can be a little intimidating but stick by me in group and I won’t let anyone mess with you.” The taller girl smiled proudly, yelping on a twitch before she draped an arm over Betty’s shoulders and pulled her into the building.

As soon as the two girls walked in Betty felt her panic rise, there were chairs set up in a circle around a desk, almost all were taken except a scattered few, teenagers her age were all talking to each other and all Betty wanted to do was run right back out the front door, maybe her mother was right, maybe this wasn’t a good idea, there were way too many people, too much judgment.

“Hi! Elizabeth right?” A middle aged woman with a short pixie cut and see through blue eyes approached her, gripping her hand and shaking it aggressively “we are so excited to have you at Helping Hearts Rehabilitation Therapy Class, my name is Rosa and I run the therapy sessions here! I think you’ll fit in just fine, Why don’t you take a seat with Maya right up front, were about to start group therapy.” The frantic older woman squeezed Betty in a jug before rushing off somewhere else.

Maya grabbed her hand, rolling her eyes
“Rosa can be a little much but she’s all heart, you’ll get to know her better in individual sessions.” She dropped down on a plastic, blue seat and patted the one beside her as Betty delicately sat down.

Betty took a moment to glance around the room, it was an eclectic mix, people covered in scars, people crying on their own, others texting on their phones angrily while some looked about as nervous as she felt, suddenly she felt an itch on the side of her head, it slowly turned into a burning and she glanced to her right, her eyes going wide at what she saw.

A beautiful boy, something right out of a 1950s greaser catalogue. He had thick, wavy black hair, slightly covered by a crooked beanie, he wore a worn in leather jacket and combat boots, his skin tanned and dirty, he had pouty lips with a natural red Betty would have killed for, the most surprising part about him though? His piercing stormy blue eyes, eyes that were currently burning into her as he stared openly.

“That’s Jughead Jones, he doesn’t talk much all we know is that he has to be here, mandatory from his therapist, rumor has it he tried to run his motorcycle off a cliff… on purpose.” Maya whispered close to her, making Betty shudder.

The boy didn’t look away not even when Betty caught his eyes, he must think she was the absolute definition of lame.

Betty had on a soft long sleeved cardigan covering up the scars littering her arms, the cotton baby blue dress she wore underneath had a peter pan collar and it matched her tiny blue ballet flats, her hair was pulled back into an exceptionally tight ponytail and her light pink lips were painted the familiar shade of “perfectly pink.”

“Okay everyone! I want to introduce you all to our newest member, Elizabeth Cooper.”
Rosa spoke from the front of the room, drawing Betty’s eyes away from the staring contest she and this Jughead Jones seemed to be having. She snapped forward, Maya nudged her with a grin as a particularly vicious twitch shook her body.

Betty smiled softly
“Hello, I actually go by Betty.” She offered gently, her honey sweet voice was soothing and like always everyone was instantly taken by the blonde haired angel.

“Well Betty, we usually start by asking, now I know this may seem a little invasive but it’s good to break it down immediately, do you mind telling us what brought you here today?”

Betty’s eyes widened as her fingers dug into her palms, searching frantically for a way out.

“NO.” She shouted, louder than she had planned
“No, no I can’t.. I can’t talk about it. I don’t.. I don’t talk about that!” She begged, moving to stand as Maya placed a comforting hand to her shoulder. Betty’s eyes were still looking around, their had to be a way out!

Suddenly her sea green eyes landed on Jugheads rainy blue ones, he gazed deeply into her face a meaningful look playing on his features, and just like that her heart stopped racing, she was able to find air and she slowly settled into the seat

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry, I’m just.. I’m not quite ready to talk about that yet, maybe next week.” She plastered on her award winning smile as she patted Maya’s hand in gratitude, Rosa fell for the picture perfect smile and she nodded reassuringly

“Of course, our past does tend to get most of us riled up. Perhaps next time.” With that the older woman went on with the session, an hour later Betty had learned about the multiple different struggles some of her peers had gone through, while she was sure that by having them share she was supposed to feel better but now she felt even more weighed down by the burden. These people had been through so much, she carried their pain on her back as if it was her own, that’s who Betty Cooper was, unapologetically selfless.

Maya was putting her number in Betty’s phone and swinging her backpack over her shoulder
“I’ll text you tonight, set up plans, catch ya after doll.” She blew a dramatic kiss towards Betty before skipping out the room.

Betty smiled with a shake of her head as she continued packing up her backpack, it had taken her longer than she expected and by the time she was done the entire room was empty even Rosa had left.

“You okay?”

The low timber of an unfamiliar voice had Betty nearly jumping out of her skin, she whipped around to see Jughead standing behind her, a smirk on his face, leaning against a chair with crossed arms, he looked like the sexiest Rebel Without A Cause Betty had ever seen.

“Me? Oh yeah, of course! I’m fine.” The blonde shifted uncomfortably in her shoes as he continued to stare at her “a little stressful sure, I lost my cool in here today, it won’t happen again.” She wasn’t sure who she was assuring, the boy in front of her or herself.

“Why not? You didn’t wanna talk about. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want too.” He shrugged lazily, his eyes drifting to her arms.

Betty smiled a soft tilt of her lips
“Sometimes though, you have to talk about it.. or it never goes away.”

Taking a step towards her Jughead lifted her hands in his her palms flat up as he stared at the moon shaped scars littering her soft skin.

Betty gasped and ripped her hands free, laying them flat on her sides

Jughead smiled again, this time a sad, understanding smile

“It never goes away. No matter what we do.” He whispered, his face dangerously close to hers.

“But we try anyway” betty responded “so we beat on, boats against the current.” She quoted.

Jughead smirked
“I didn’t take you for a F. Scott Fitzgerald fan, although you look the part.. daisy.”

Betty rolled her eyes taking a step away from him and turning her back to him, heading for the door, a mysterious smile on her lips.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me Jughead Jones.” The door closed shut, leaving Jughead alone in the dark warehouse. Running a hand over his face he couldn’t shake the smile from his lips

“Shit” he mumbled

He was in deep trouble.

‘I’m trying to confess my love here!’

Summary - Jeremy and Michael drift away again, but after 12 years of friendship and pining, it’s hard to stay away. aka, based off those terrible angsty hcs i made here they are

Pairing - Michael Mell/Jeremy Heere

Warnings - Angsty with a happy ending, lots of crying and yelling, kissing at the end

Words - 2010/5 pages it’s short i’m sorry, i’m gonna write longer ones as i get better

Tags - @cafulur (adding later, i’m lazy and idk who want’s to be tagged but if you do (on this one or any future ones) let me know)

A03 link - ‘i’m trying to confess my lover here!’

Keep reading

Hearts Don’t Break Around Here: The Divide Series

Here is a link to the song, if you’d like to listen along to help set the mood. x



It wasn’t often that Harry got to spend more than a week or two back at home, so whenever he did, he cherished the time deeply.

He’d been in Holmes Chapel for a week now, spending time with his family and catching up with the few old friends that he’s still in contact with. It was where he would go whenever he needed to wind down, or when he needed to ground himself from all the fame and attention. He’d been receiving a lot of it lately, with all of the lead-up to the release of his first single. And he knew that after the song was released everything would be crazy for a little bit, so he decided to get in as much home time as he could.

That afternoon, Anne had sent him to the grocery store to grab a few things for dinner—he was walking through the wine section, carrying a basket filled with different cheeses and a carton of eggs. It was a small locally sourced store that had been in business ever since Harry could remember—when he was a little boy, he would always come here and buy a chocolate bar on Friday’s after school. Everyone who worked there knew him, and greeted him cheerily.

The Beatles’s Here Comes the Sun was playing over the radio through the speakers, and he caught himself humming softly as his eyes scanned the wine rack. He was in no hurry—there was something about being back home that made it seem like time was frozen. He picked out a bottle of his mum’s favorite wine and set it in his basket—that’s when it happened.

He caught the familiar scent of Alien perfume.

Keep reading

For @illustraice and her amazing Sun/Moon spirit au? THIS WAS SO RUSHED, BY I wanted to give you something in addition to the writing.

Thank you for all your amazing work. (PLEASE DON’T LISTEN TO EINE KLEINE BY RACHIE. it really hurts with this au.)


It’s entirely a lie that the gods whisper amongst themselves. Behind soft tones and intrepid smiles, he knows what they say about her. About him.

But his golden light conceals too much. He can’t see the truth behind the glaring brightness of his own being.

They say that she’s weak without him. That they’re two halves of a broken whole, and that the moon cannot shine without the sun.

They forget that she is the night sky and all it encompasses. They forget that she holds the stars in her small hands, that she grasps the distant galaxies with her glowing night.

He doesn’t get to see her much. But when he does, the old scars across his back and his chest and the ones that sear in his heart all ache.

Vague memories of bloodless war flit through his mind. Her blue eyes are ever closed in his presence. Her dark gown spilling over like ink around her form.

She is perfection. Everything he is not.

She is not his to have. Her silver heart belongs to a human she once met.
—-

She reaches for a man she knows is no longer living. But her moon shines just for him…for Adrien.

It wanes when the remembrance of war hurts her. It waxes red and full when her anger writhes and pulls at the oceans.

She once was human. Once was on earth long enough to meet a boy with golden hair like wheat and eyes the color of sunlight through leaves. A boy who fought in a revolution with ideals as pure as newly born life wavering under the spring sun.

“Wait for me. Wait for me, my Lady. When it is over, we can see each other again.”

But he never came for her. She’d searched long and hard across the streets of Paris, her form slowly shifting as the constellations on her back faded.

Mortals had so often made wishes on her stars, but she lamented that she cannot do the same as her heart leaked open and her tears doused the corpses that littered the battleground.

It’s been centuries, and her heart still aches.

(As do the old scars that gleam like starlight across her ribs and back, the scars the curl around her legs like sea foam.)

So she waits with a smile that cuts across the dark like her crescent moon, watching the world turn while she waits for a soul to be reborn. Her eyes drift into a sleep, dreams dancing across her sight full of wishes she cannot grant.
—-

It is the strangest thing, he thinks, to make wishes on a flower.

The Earth is such a beautiful balance…one who’s beauty brings with it a sharp regret that he can’t quite recall.

There’s peace in this field of sunflowers that rise like curious sentinels for their king. He feels safe in their shade, hidden from the glare of his own sun.

There’s a little lark that sits on his shoulder, head tilted inquisitively at him. He gives it a gentle smile, and turns back to the flower he holds.

(The local flower spirit…a tiny pink robed girl by the name of Rose…has kindly left him to his devices.)

But he holds not a sunflower, but a delicate dandelion in between his warm hands, and he heaves a breath.

“I want to see her.” He whispers.

He watches the seeds drift away on the sudden breeze. They spiral upwards into the sharply blue sky, a color that distinctly reminds him of the one he adores.

His wish is carried away on the breeze. He hopes the wind spirit cannot hear it. But then again, he wonders if he should have wished on the stars instead.

Maybe then she would have heard the sound of his golden heart reaching across the sky for her.

They meet once more during an eclipse.

He thinks it oddly fitting that the darkest time of existence for him is when he can see her.

She thinks it oddly disquieting that the brightest time of existence for her is when they cross paths.

An eclipse. Solar or lunar, she can’t quite tell yet.

But those familiar tendrils of heat reach out for her. Her hands feel cold and there’s an old timeliness pain that lances through her as he calls her name.

Still, she curls into herself, a full moon who’s silvery light wanes in the face of the golden sun.

Her eyes remain closed, but somehow, her frigid fingers reach across the brief expanse, seeking a warmth they do not want.

“What are you afraid of, Night? Why do you curl away from me?” He calls out, slight irritation causing him to flare red and orange for a moment.

She lets the frost under her shadow creep into her tone…lets the elegance of snow and ice under stars color her answer.

“I don’t love you. I don’t want eternity with you. We may remain friends.”

He’s frustrated. And he can’t catch her glance, because still her eyes are closed against him and the tears well up in his own gaze.

“I understand.” He says quietly, and the rest of the eclipse is spent in silence.

But there’s a gentle smile in her goodbye and he just barely catches the tips of her fingers to press a burning kiss to them.

She opens her eyes the smallest bit, oddly gray in the light of the blue stars that color her gown.

And then they part.
—-
She hears the wish he made on her brightest star.

She can’t grant it.
—–

They think the night needs the day to shine. How wrong they are…it is the day that wholly depends on the night.

It is his golden heart that aches for her. It is his balance that is broken when she disappears and he remains.

Her night sky remains, but there’s a wailing loneliness that makes it seem so much dimmer.

His cries echo across the stars, and his tears become rain.

She hides on Earth, and while her heart aches still, she shifts her dark umbrella higher over her shoulders and lets the tears roll cruelly over it.

She cannot grant his wish when she’s working so hard to grant her own.

There’s someone she needs to find.