Summary: Don’t let go of him. He needs you. He wants
you stay, but he doesn’t know how to say it.
Angst, all that good shit, it’ll end with a sort of cliffhanger idk i like to call it an interpretive ending but whatever floats your boat, also the obvious language warnings and mentions of baby buck not being okay :-(
Count: 9.1k (i’m SORRY)
so, again, thank you to my inspo tag bc I saw this quote and it’s been churning
in my head for so long but I’ve never had the chance to actually sit down and
write it. This literally took me a full year to write so let’s see how it goes
¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Also this could possibly go into a part two if you guys want it. I have an idea for it but if people want to use their imagination to create their own ending then by all means! Anyways, feedback is more
than welcome and please leave requests; I’d love to see what you guys want to
It’s funny how easily someone’s world can come crashing
down. How easily the bright colors that once painted your world turn to an
ashen gray within a few short minutes. It’s sickening that love can raise you
up to the sky and show you the world and the beautiful blues and golds of the
sky. It’s intoxicating how drunk you feel off of the beauty and the glory of
having it all, of seeing it all. How
warm you feel, how weightless and limitless, like you’re the air. Twisting and
turning, light and free. Young and spirited, wild and reckless and untamed.
Poets, authors and painters convey love with the prettiest
words and the lightest shades of pink and yellow and white. They romanticize
the fall, the moments before the leap and how wonderful it feels when you
because there are so many types of kisses! have some affectionate widowtracer because i refuse to believe their relationship is purely sex and angst
lena oxton is a very affectionate person
she is all smiles and hugs and friendly hip-checks and cuddles and sharing space and, needless to say, widowmaker is not.
so when they start this… thing
widow is not prepared for what comes next
she wakes in the morning covered in ten blankets and a snoozing lena oxton, surrounded by a mess of pillows and teddy bears and textbooks on theoretical physics, and it is warm and the sunlight was made for basking in, and she jolts a little in surprise
her talon bunker is cold and dark and decorated with one purple gouge across the blank white walls and the cot is stiff and poky and she has nothing but nightmares
lena stirs at her movement, grumbles sleepily. widow freezes, unsure of the protocol. does she… touch her? move? does she stay there? oh god what should she do?
she settles for tentatively touching lena’s hair. it’s soft, fluffy, perpetually messy, and she pats her head with cold hands.
‘lo,’ lena murmurs, throat creaking a little, and widow blinks, snatching her hand back.
‘good morning,’ she says, a touch stiffly. lena doesn’t seem to notice, tipping her head slightly and shifting closer, burrowing her head into widow’s neck and pressing a kiss to her jaw. the whole motion is easy and careless and widow can’t help but smile.
lena whispers something groggily against her throat, and she frowns in confusion.
lena lifts her head for a moment. ‘said you look cute.’
‘ya know, mornings. hair down. ‘s cute.’
‘so do you.’
she’s waking up slowly, sitting up, bending over amelie to blindly kiss her face, opening her eyes, the soft brown gentle in the rising sun, her nose bumping clumsily against amelie’s icy cheek.
‘there’s a diner here somewhere,’ she mumbles between kisses, aiming for amelie’s nose and missing spectacularly. ‘you into coffee?’
‘café au lait,’ is amelie’s response, and lena snorts, snuggling into her shoulder.
‘you and your prissy french coffee.’
amelie sticks her tongue out at her and lena pouts exaggeratedly, spread-eagling herself over widow and clinging.
‘get off,’ amelie says, without meaning it. lena just smiles at her knowingly, and clings tighter, dotting kisses over amelie’s collarbones and humming some pop song.
‘i want food,’ amelie says abruptly and decisively, and clambers off the bed with lena still attached to her. ‘shoes on. am i carrying you there?’
‘yeah,’ lena mumbles, and then blinks. ‘wait, are we going naked?’
‘no,’ amelie says, rolling her eyes fondly, ‘put your clothes on.’
lena sings as she straps the accelerator to her chest and slings a leather jacket around her shoulders, dances up behind widow and spins her around and presses the spiderbites into her ear and widow snorts when she makes a pun, eyebrows waggling
they walk to the nearest cafe and lena buys four pastries and feeds amelie pieces of an apple turnover as she talks about a recent prototype of the plane that she and winston are developing and widow hums and listens and feels the soft brush of lena’s fingers against her lips and the way they skim over her jaw and down her arm to her hands, and then lena gets momentarily distracted in favour of kissing each of amelie’s fingertips
and amelie tells her about sombra’s embarrassing moments, hands dancing in the air (she’s wonderfully expressive when she wants to be), smiles a little when lena laughs so hard she almost snorts coffee out her nose
they’re the best mornings amelie’s had in a while.
late nights are good, too
they curl up on the couch, and amelie wears lena’s fuzzy koala socks, and they watch old movies and lena squishes in next to her so close that amelie can smell the faint traces of the lemon soap she uses (and amelie steals on a regular basis) and she wraps her arms loosely around lena’s midsection and lena hums and traces her tattoos and pecks kisses on her wrists
and sometimes, every so often, lena comes home to amelie sitting on the floor with a bottle of wine and hard eyes and lena talks her down with quiet words and soft desperate ‘i am here’ kisses and amelie cries and tangles her hands in lena’s hair and they sit together on lena’s kitchen floor and amelie mumbles about needles and gerard and monsters
at nights, they lie together, lena’s arms tight around amelie’s shoulders, quiet words of affection. lena learns a bit of frankly horrid french and takes a certain amount of delight in sneaking up behind amelie and whispering, ‘je t’aime’ into her ear
and her accent’s bad and the tones are wrong and she doesn’t quite say it like people in france
but it seems much more right than anything amelie’s ever heard
A/N: Hey! So this is my first time writing a fic in a few years, but I had this idea and wrote it all tonight in a mad dash! I’m thinking I will probably write more of this at some point soon, because I am pretty happy with how it turned out. I’d love any constructive criticism, Hope you enjoy! Also this is a AHS Coven AU, but I play a little fast and loose with the rules of the universe.
Summary: Trixie is a clairvoyant witch, sent to study at Mrs. Charles’s Academy for Gifted Girls, where she meets another young witch named Katya, and sparks fly (no pun intended).
Never Tear Us Apart (reader x Bucky) [Accidents Happen part 4]
Hi, friends! I seriously meant to post this a few days ago, but life and illness made it difficult. Plus this is kind of a long chapter but I wanted to get it right. I hope I did! Let me know your thoughts. :)
Never Tear Us Apart (reader x Bucky) [Accidents Happen Part 4]
Characters: reader x Bucky, Steve, Tony, other Avengers mentioned
Summary: Progression of the relationship between reader and Bucky as they make plans, which get rudely interrupted.
Warnings: fluffy fluff plus a little angst
This is along one! It might be my favorite, though. I really wanted to portray the passage of time and how “real life” intervenes in a relationship. Plus the music! I had to add that kitchen scene. :D Thankfully, I’ve figured out the “Keep Reading” situation, so it won’t clog up your dashboard.
Let me know if you’d like to be tagged or untagged in the future! Send me an ask.
Sunlight fell across your face through a slit in the curtains. Turning away from the brightness, you opened your eyes and gazed into the still-sleeping face of Bucky Barnes. It must’ve been a restful night, his face relaxed with his lips slightly parted. Most nights were good but every once in a while he would wake with a furrowed brow and clamped mouth. You knew he still struggled with nightmares, but he didn’t like to talk about it. All he ever said was that it was always better with you there. Which is what made today so hard.
It had been a two weeks since that fateful night of Fraggle Rock and the following morning of bliss. You and Bucky fell into an easy routine of friendly interaction during the day and as much of a workout in the gym as either of you could handle before the REAL workout took precedent at night. You had moved beyond the wrestling mats by then and had just a little more self control in order to make it to one of your rooms before disrobing.
This particular morning, you were aware which room you had stumbled into last night in a instant. Bucky’s room still consisted of 4 blank white walls, a bed, and a small bookshelf with a lamp on top. You were all for the minimalist look, but it could use a little personality. In a moment of inspiration, you grabbed a black Sharpie from the bookshelf and uncapped it. Rolling onto your stomach and scooting up to the wall above the head of the bed, you began to draw.
You stared at the blank, white walls. The groans and grunts from Kyle, moans and whines from Madison and the sound of skin against skin heard through the paper thin walls. You cringed, eyes filling with tears as you tried to block out the sounds.
Kyle had met you at a party at the end of high school, he was instantly attracted to you like a magnet. You two started talking and became friends. Friends turned into friends with benefits which later turned into a relationship. You made Kyle’s life bearable, you made him want to continue living whereas he didn’t before.
However your relationship was cut short when you found out you were a witch, supreme descendant actually. You feared that you couldn’t withhold something as important as that from Kyle, so you broke up with him. You thought it would be for the best; you wouldn’t have to worry about accidentally losing control of your powers and hurting him. So you left him behind, without any way to contact or find you.
Then you found out what happened on the bus and couldn’t stay away. You needed to find him, make sure he was okay. Your heart shattered into a million pieces when you found out he had died in the accident. You couldn’t help but blame yourself. If you had gone to the party, you could’ve made him come home with you instead of with the other frat guys. If you hadn’t broke his heart and left him, you probably would’ve been curled up on your bed, watching a re-run of his favourite show.
However fate just wasn’t on your side. Kyle was gone and you were partially to blame.
You had became quite close with Zoe since her joining the school and once she told you that she revived him and took him back to his mom, you instantly insisted that you went and took him back. He couldn’t be with that monster, especially with his mind complete mush.
Now he was safely in the school and your mind could be at peace. That didn’t last long though, because Madison wanted to dig her claws into him and make him hers. Zoe didn’t agree, but she was prepared to start a fight with Madison. You, on the other hand, were quite the opposite.
You swallowed down the lump in your throat, wiping away any stray tears and wiping your running nose on the back on your hand. You stood up abruptly and stormed out of the room and to where Madison and Kyle were fucking like rabbits.
You wrenched open the door, the sight before you hurt your heart but you persevered. With a wave of your hand, Kyle was dragged from Madison’s semi-naked body and Madison was thrown off the bed, hitting the wall with a thud.
“Kyle, pull up your pants.” You demanded, not taking off your eyes of Madison, who was smirking.
Kyle scurried to pull his pants up, staggering back slightly before scampering to your side. He looked at you with big, doe brown eyes and you reminded yourself not to fall for it.
“Touch him again, Madison, and I’ll kill you, again.” You snarled, grabbing Kyle’s hand and dragging him out of the room and back to yours.
He slumped down on your bed, burying his head in his hands.
“St-Stupid!” He murmured, self-hatred filling his veins. He had hurt you.
His hands weaved into his curly, blonde hair and a fist formed, he started tugging at his hair. You scrambled towards him, placing your hands over his and gently removing his hands from his hair.
“You’re not stupid, baby, you were just mislead, okay? Don’t ever call yourself stupid again.”
You crouched down in front of him, intertwining your fingers and placing them on his knees.
“I should’ve protected you, I’m sorry, but I’m going to make you better, alright? We’ll get through this.”
“I-I l-love yo-you.” Kyle stuttered, eyes casted downwards and brimmed with tears.
“I love you, too.”
You stood up and placed a chaste kiss on his hairline, both of your eyes fluttering shut.
prompt: Dan and Phil are both sons of rich families and are sent to ballroom dancing lessons. Because there is a shortage of girls, Dan and Phil end up as partners. Phil really doesn’t want to be there and Dan doesn’t either, but is so frustrated by the fact Phil doesn’t want to dance with him he is determined to get him to.
a/n: oh my gOD this chapter is so long wtf i’m so sorry so much happens it takes quite a dark turn towards the end and it gets very very emo i really wasn’t kidding when i said shit happens in vienna
tw; brief mentions of suicide attempts, self-harm & smoking
opens his eyes to the mid-morning sun struggling through the slightly
parted curtains, warming the room with its golden, mid-July glow. He
studies the room with a sleepy squint, and a couple of seconds of
recollection is all he needs to realise that no, this isn’t a dream
and Phil is still fast asleep beside him, his hair unruly and his
breathing steady. He smiles softly, taking a moment to study his
sleeping expression, contrasting his usual, carefully composed,
thoughtful expression Dan so often sees him with. Without composure,
it’s so different, so vulnerable, and it’s laughable because he’d
almost say it’s innocent.
sighs through his nose, staring up at the ceiling and wondering when
the last time he fell asleep with someone who was still actually
there when he woke up, was. True, they are on a supposedly
‘educational’ trip as opposed to back home in London, but even still;
if Ryan tried a sly morning escape in Vienna, it wouldn’t exactly
isn’t long before his black-haired partner rolls over, inhaling
deeply and consuming himself in a stretch before burying himself back
into the duvet and opening his eyes, blinking sleepily at Dan.
gives him a lazy half-smile. “Morning.”
frowns, hesitating quietly before sighing, shutting his eyes again.
“What’s the time?”
His voice is scratchy and thin with sleep, creating another contrast
to the daytime smoothness Dan’s used to. He reckons it’s probably the
smoking as well as the morning fatigue, though, and he screws up his
face when the small cardboard Marlboro pack sticking out of his tatty
rucksack catches his eye.
I don’t know, something-past-eight, I think.” Dan cracks his back
as he stretches, and Phil winces. He sits up, still frowning at the
cigarette packet. “You’re not planning on doing that,
Phil frowns, sitting up and flicking his fringe out of his eye.
“Having a rucksack? Look, I know it’s not exactly new anymore,
you pillock.” Dan shuts his eyes. “In
the rucksack?” “Wh- oh, that.”
Phil smirks lazily, leaning over the bed and reaching for it, his
pyjama shirt rucking up slightly in the process and exposing the
paper-white skin of his torso. He drags the pack out, sitting back on
the bed and flicking the card lid open. He whips one out, playing
with it in some kind of admiration that Dan’s disgusted by.
it.” Dan whips it straight out of his fingers and tucks it under
his pillow out of his reach. “We’d be in enough trouble already if
they found out about the wine.”
they’re not going
find out, are they?” Phil’s eyes glitter, and he half-grins,
leaning over Dan and retrieving his cigarette, sliding it back into
the pack and dropping it on the floor in the approximate direction of
wherever his open rucksack is. He sighs, flopping back down onto his
pillow and staring at the ceiling.
i don’t feel shit
I can’t fathom
I try to show love
But the transparency is real
Why can’t I feel
It’s frustrating cause it’s real
theres no manual to this shit
I’ll grow old and bitter
unaware and blinded
Untouched and alone
Why would I write this
These metaphors won’t
In white ink
Imprinted on the blank white walls
In my mind
Who knows what I see
It’s like I color on the lines
so they cant judge me
Lost in a sea of mind gasms
I just want to be free
My mind has trapped me
My mind has trapped me
My mind has trapped me
I don’t like shit
Put my love strings on hold
call my vices when I’m bored
This shit always gets old
I rather spend time with demons
they light my blunts
and leave me bleeding
Make my scars have meaning
Its all fake fun
I don’t see it as depression
i can never be honest
Cause that shit don’t fit my aesthetic
What am I doing
Skydiving to my death
The air cuts my skin
I don’t feel shit
Title: Peonies Pairing: JiHope Requested?: No Summary: In a world where unrequited love causes pain and suffering, Hoseok finds himself at war with a very pink flower. He much more prefers lilies. Warnings: Um..swearing. there’s some swearing, that’s about it.
The sandy-blonde and small man sat in front of you, his legs pulled up close to his chest with his head down in shame and his whole body turned away from you in fear. You let go of his thin wrist and he slammed it against his knee as soon as your warmth left his skin, his ears struck back as his black and tattered tail wrapped around his ankles. The mutant looked like he was about to get beat, it was sad to look at and you sighed in empathy.
“Stay here and sit still, okay?” You spoke softly and quietly, hoping he wouldn’t feel threatened. He slowly nodded and looked away as you stood up and walked back to your room, you saw him slightly twitch even though you practically warned him before-hand. You picked the clothes off the floor, that you had chosen for the boy, in a hurry you had thrown them down there while you were running to him as he was having his panic attack. Before walking out again, you dusted off the sweatpants and t-shirt combo. Both the clothing pieces were grey, but in different shades of cotton, you thought they’d fit him, maybe somewhat loosely.
Quickly you walked back to the boy, since the last incident you figured it wouldn’t be long until he’d try and rip his skin again. You walked out of your dark bedroom and looked at the mutant, he was sitting neatly and still where you told him to stay, to start a good behavior for the future, you thought you should reward him somehow. “Good boy~” you cooed at him and kneeled down next to him, his damaged ears peeked forward and he looked up at you surprised, you had to admit that he looked adorable at that moment, with his mouth slightly agape and his and his eyes open fully, they were a truly beautiful shade of brown.
“Here are your clothes” you spoke softly and smiled wider. “You can change in the bathroom” you said and laid the clothes next to him before standing up, backing off slightly so you wouldn’t be towering over the hybrid. He took his eyes off you and looked around confused, he left mouth staying slight agape. “The bathroom is over there” you stated sweetly and pointed to the door with a gold plate on it, the word “bath” chiseled into it. He looked at you one last time for confirmation before slowly getting up, putting his palms flat against the wall and hoisting himself up. To save him some trouble, you bent down and picked up the clothes for him and stood back up. The boy stood much taller than he had before, if he gained a few kilos, you figured he would be very handsome.
Slowly you handed him the clothes, his small hands grabbed the sweatpants plus t-shirt combination and bowed his head slightly as a ‘thank you’, his fringe so dirty and muddy it didn’t budge as he moved. “You can shower as well” you offered nicely and smiled at the boy, he nodded and a small smile tugged at his damaged lips, but it was too faint to see if it was real or not. -He must be hungry- you thought to yourself as the hybrid turned around and walked to the bathroom to get fixed up, his steps were unsteady and he whimpered slightly as he took each one, you sighed to yourself before walking to the kitchen.
Your feet thumped against your wooden floor as you walked into your large kitchen, over the island in the middle of the room you could see the boy limp into the bathroom, but not close the door. You didn’t exactly feel an urge to tell him to close it, ‘maybe he isn’t comfortable with doing that, just yet? He does seem quite odd’ you reasoned with yourself. After rethinking your decision you took out a ready-to-make pizza, you might be living a glorious life, but you’d rather not bother with cooking.
The sound of the shower started to wave through your apartment, it did make you feel calmer, it was a cold apartment after all. There was never anyone home, the high ceilings, and the blank and white marble walls accompanied with the oak-wood flooring, didn’t make anything more welcoming. It never felt like home, the thought of having someone to come home to had crossed your mind, maybe that’s why you felt a little more compelled to help the damaged hybrid.
Your thoughts were interrupted by the man’s soft voice, making your head snap to his direction. His head was peeking out of the door frame, his fringe and face was wet from the steamy shower. “Towel” he whispered out and looked at you like a small lamb, his eyes stained with insecurity, he was probably still scared of you. You cursed yourself for forgetting to give him a towel as you walked to one of your closets. “Of course, did you have a good shower?” you asked him and took the softest one you could find. “Hmm~, yeah.. it was warm” he said clearly and slowly, his lisp clearly audible on his s’, making you smile at the cuteness he possessed from only speaking. “I’m glad to hear” you said, genuinely happy for him, and walked to the bathroom-entrance with the towel in your hand. The boy smiled weakly in response and reached out his arm out of the door frame, hiding his body behind the wall. You handed him the towel quickly and forced yourself not to try and look at anything of his.
The only thing you saw was how bruised he was, reddish-brown and yellow marks on his forearm, you felt yourself sigh again before walking back to the kitchen.
In case any of y’all newer folks were wondering, yes, I do think about RepCom the entire way through my weekend closing shifts, or else (if I’m in a position to sneak headphones that day/hour) the audiobook I’m listening to (which is also sci-fi almost always, so easily lends itself to looping back to SW).
The alternative is staring at the concrete floors and blank white walls while the broken faucets drip endlessly into the sink, the florescent lights that haven’t burned out yet flicker, and the store radio plays the same depressing and poorly chosen soundtrack over and over on loop.
So that’s why you see so many random Dar/Etain posts on Saturday and Sunday nights, lmao. Much more amusing thing to occupy my brain with.
The Burners will paint every inch of the walls of Bat City, they’ve been doing it so long they know which points are safe to paint at which times. As soon as their art gets painted over they’re back again, they see the new white walls as blank canvases