#(granted. i can't hear his accent as much now because i'm used to it i think. but.)

[difeisheng]

.

[leonenjoyer69]

Both your OCs occupy space in my mind lol I love both Harry and Elias. Would you mind giving some more rambles please and thank you? About either one. I just love learning more about them.

VJEKBKDKF TYSM, I'M GLAD YOU LIKE THEM :D it makes me very happy to know that people enjoy my ramblings and art of my lil fellas :3 (also, all you sweet anons are gonna be the death of me with your mysterious identities!)

(SUB NOTE: if anyone ever has any ideas at all or art requests or something for either of my sillies PLEASE don't hesitate to bring them up I would literally love hearing any suggestion or answering any question ever)

Anyways!!! I've actually been waiting to drop a bunch of stuff on these fellas that I've been talking about with some folks on Discord (which y'all can also ask for if you wanna talk to me on there I LOVE TALKING TO YOU GUYS), so thank you for granting me the perfect opportunity >:3 so, without further ado, I shall begin:

First of all, i just wanted to drop my height HCs bc,,,, why not lmao

I can't exactly visualize heights very well in my mind so these may be a wee bit too tall, idk, but yeah! I think giving Hyde an extra half inch would be funny bc you KNOW that mf would just round up lmao. Elias is a bit taller than Hyde, which Hyde kinda hates sometimes, itty bitty fella.

Anyways!! Harry is first up for rambling bc I have less for him rn lmao. I don't remember if ive mentioned it much before on here, but I know I included it in the fic i did for him, and that's his Scottish accent :3 we as a fandom don't write Jekyll's accent enough so I like projecting it onto injured Hyde and now Harry 😌 MORE SCOTTISH JEKYLL PLEASE-

Harry didn't really have to worry about keeping face in the mindscape (except for when around Mind Lanyon, who would pester tf out of him over it) so he fell back to at LEAST having an accent. He partially fell back on it because 1, it made him feel a wee more comfortable, and 2, because of how often he revisited memories from university (specifically during his and Lanyon relationship ofc), so he's used to hearing himself speaking with at least a drawl.

But yeah, that accent kinda sticks with him when he gains control and he has quite a hard time shaking it, which makes for some fun interactions, like when Lanyon's trying to break down his office door :3333

I believe I've mentioned this, but Harry is very very sensitive to most physical sensations (touch, pain, etc.) and has some light and sound sensitivities for a decent bit after gaining control. Because of how long he spent in the mindscape with numbed senses, It really messed with him to suddenly have control again. Eventually he starts getting used to it again, but for the first few days he's practically on the edge of a mental breakdown at every moment. He's also super jumpy from it (and from the ungodly paranoia he got from the mindscape lmao) and is quite firmly "no touch" for about a week (except for when he initiates stuff with Lanyon). Once he gets used to it tho his touch starved ass is a lot more affectionate and such.

One last thing for him! He's also far more sensitive to hunger and thirst sensations/pain, so he tends to take far better care of their body while in control. It took him a short while to get used to eating and drinking again, but he's more than happy to do it, not realizing how much he had missed it. Plus, he's seen how horrible Jekyll and Hyde would take care of themselves, so he certainly doesn't want their neglect to be his downfall. He's also a bit more sensitive to being tired, but can't sleep very well (especially without Lanyon) because of paranoia and nightmares.

OKAY, NOW, onto Elias!! Most all this stuff is from a discord convo that I didn't feel like rewording, so... Sorry if the formatings weird 💀 (questions are indented and italicized, as well as abbreviated)

OKAY SO, For how Henry (or whoever) convinces Elias to switch back:

Elias usually throws some sort of fit when he's initially order to switch back (except for the very rare instances where he's actively wanting to switch back, like when everyone's busy and he starts getting lonely anyways), though most the time he'll simmer down when Henry starts sorta begging or when either Henry or Lanyon (or very occasionally Hyde) lowkey bribe him. Usually Henry (or Hyde) will bribe him with physical touch/affection (hugs, cuddling, kisses, stuff like that), or bonding time, like going out and doing things together and such (or just doing stuff together at the society, like watching Henry do science or doing paperwork 💀). (Also, sometimes Jekyll will just get somewhat impatient and start asking more desperately and the guilt kinda gets to Elias, Henry usually feels bad about it tho) otherwise, Lanyon will bribe him (quite grudgingly, might I add) with more time out, going to the park with Elias in shadow form and talking, or letting him get a gift for Jekyll or Hyde. But yeah, Elias is lowkey like a little affectionate, overactive puppy :3

[...] I misread "letting him get a gift for Jekyll or Hyde" as "letting him get a gift FROM Jekyll or Hyde" and swore for a moment that sometimes Jekyll/Hyde sent gifts to Elias but Lanyon stole them [... ]

LANYON WOULD TOTALLY STEAL ELIAS'S STUFF TO USE AS BARGAINING LEVERAGE 💀 but yes, bribery is the go to, this guy does NOT like being locked away, so when he does it's either out of guilt or he's getting something out of it, hehe

[...] Imagine that since Lanyon is probably taller than elias, he just hides some lf his stuff on higher places so that he cannot reach them, I feel like Elias would annoy the hell out of him so that he stops doing it though (Lanyon puts them back where they where, and when Elias isn't there, he just hides them again) also, I just imagined Jekyll like guilt tripping or manipulating him so that he drinks the potion

Oh he absolutely would, Lanyon would have a whole "confiscated" shelf for it too, and Elias would definitely whine about it with sooo much persistence. AND JFKGKKF YEAH JEKYLL WOULD 😭😭 both out of selfishness and not, since he still hasn't tested how the formula behaves when an alter ego is out for prolonged amounts of time, and sometimes he just wants Robert back.

Jekyll likes Elias, he just has more of a preference for Lanyon. Jekylls probably also got a bit less patience for Elias's whining after dealing with Hyde's for so long lmao, he always feels kinda bad about being mean or anything to Elias tho, since it's kinda his fault that Lanyon split.

Would Lanyon ever like bother Elias with the fact that Jekyll likes him better?? Like maybe, at one point he just gets too tired of him wanting to hang out with Jekyll and says to him that Jekyll just deals with him out of pity, and like Elias then just feeling kinda bad about it and wondering if Jekyll actually likes him??

If Lanyon's feeling especially spiteful and annoyed, probably, but also Elias worries about that enough on his own and bothers Lanyon with all his self deprecating thoughts anyways 💀

How does Hyde feel about Elias?

He's generally guilt free about the whole "splitting Lanyon" thing and /gen likes Elias way more than he likes Lanyon lmao. He still gets that sorta bitter anger and resentment when he looks at Lanyon, but he doesn't get that with Elias. Hyde kinda thinks that Elias is all the best parts of Lanyon (Except for Elias's emotional sensitivity sometimes, but Hyde deals. He feels surprisingly bad when he upsets Elias..) But yeah, Elias is most of the reason why Hyde is complacent enough to actually kinda lay low after messing up Blackfog and stuff, so Jekyll certainly likes Elias for keeping Hyde somewhat in check lmao

And that's everything I have for this!!! Thank you so much for the ask :D

[embracethemadmess]

Dreaming with the Witch- #2b - just Marc

Story summary:  Steven is refusing to sleep at night again, but this time he also doesn’t want to front during the day, so Marc has to cover for him at work, running on little to no sleep every day, straining his voice on -quite bad- British soft accent. If that wasn’t enough, there’s this third alter still actively moon knighting without the other two knowing. All this leaves the body completely exhausted and, well, on the edge of falling apart. One time the system meets a witch willing to help heal both the body and the disturbed minds in it.

Chapter summary: Steven disappears for a day.

word count: 4075

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Chapter notes: I can't write flirting scenes, sorry you have to witness that. I'm gonna do beta reading tomorrow after work, so I'm sorry in advance if there are any mistakes.

Enjoy and don't hesitate to share your thoughts :).

Disclaimers: I do not have D.I.D., therefore my story should not be treated as a trustful source of knowledge on the topic. I strongly encourage you all to learn about it from actual systems or other resources. Mirrors and all that reflections theme are used as a way to connect the story to the TV show. If you notice any mistakes on my side, please let me know so I can fix them.

* * ☾ * *

"Okay, okay, sorry!" A high-toned squeak is torn out from the woman held by him while the fingernails of her free hand dig desperately into his bare forearm's skin, leaving half-moon indents on it. 

Although Marc feels as if his brain is clouded, he disentangles her from the armlock instantly. Worrisomeness hides in crinkles between his brows as they furrow, and in the amber of his eyes now focused on her face after he put his hands on her shoulder and turned her around so she could face him, looking for any sign of distress in her facial expression. The tension in his body increases a notch when he realises the woman is, as a matter of fact, a girl. Young adult. Adolescent girl. Practically a child. He lets out an almost laboured grunt at that, a few of his own curses directed at him echoing in his mind. 

"Jesus, what was that?" The girl - Anna, he discovers after taking a quick glance at the name tag on her beige blouse - inquiries, a breathy cry in her voice loud and clear for his ears to hear being one part of the remnant of the abuse he's deployed on her, the other making itself present in massaging sore elbow and exercising a mild shoulder rotation.

"Please, accept my dearest apologies," Marc begins, his voice adopting Steven's tone and manner as if a default setting, his face not so cooperative, though, remaining more of his own than his alter's which he can tell even without seeing himself simply by not feeling the slightest tug of a single muscle. His wording choice, moreover, surprises both him and the girl in front of him, but it doesn't stop him from continuing, "I didn't mean to cause you any harm, it's just, I-" he stutters just a tad, hoping it would grant him some bonus points, and then focuses his stare at everything but her eyes, scratching his beard in a clear sign of discomfort. "I was in my head straight up fuming at this bloody stupid machine over here, and your touch caught me off guard."

As a response to his elaborated apology, Anna gives him as much as a simple shrug of her shoulders which almost earns her his scoff. Almost, because by the time he opens his mouth to express his discontent with her reaction, she muses:

"Should've guessed it myself." And as she gets no reply, with Marc just standing there, expression as blank as the circles dark around the redness of his waterlines, eyes now closer to the shade of onyx rather than amber, and plump lips closed in a straight line in between salt-and-pepper thick growth, she feels the urgent need to add: "I mean, with the way you always flinch when something unexpected or louder than you'd want happens around you, I figure I kind of deserved this whole American arrest hold."

After admitting that, her shoulders shrug again and then a devilish grin plays on her lips as she takes one step closer to him, barely leaving any space between the two of them. Marc's brows knit marginally at the movement, making the permanent crease in the skin between them even more prominent, but he doesn't back away from her as he examines her face in silence; freckle by freckle, acne scar by brownish patch, rosacea's redness blemishing her fair skin. So young, he makes a notice in the privacy of his thoughts when she cocks her head a little to be able to burn a hole in the lion's wrinkle of his with the sky blue of her gaze.

"Nevertheless, I think I also deserve a tight hug, eh?" Anna murmurs, later on drawing her lower lip between her teeth and keeping it there long enough for him to notice. "To ease the pain, you know, you're not exactly the weakest man alive" comes in addition, as if she tried to excuse her suggestion. 

With a faint, faked smile Marc nods in agreement.

"I guess s-" he trails off mid-sentence and instead nearly chokes on the air she seems to punch out of his lungs with the force she uses to pound into his embrace, enclasping his neck, giving him no other choice than to wrap his own arms around her waist.

Marc swallows the dryness in his throat at the sudden realisation that this, the hug, feels wrong. For many reasons, he tries to tell himself that the one being most crucial is the fact this girl is significantly younger than him and barely knows him, while he doesn't know her at all, even if she's not aware of it, therefore she shouldn't be this comfortable near him. 

However, the truth is, and the American resigned himself to the fact some time ago, it feels wrong because it's not Steven. For both of them, actually, it should be Steven but it isn't, and that aspect of the embrace lies heavy on Marc's heart, trying to sink it deep into the melancholy of memories of the one hug that's been engraved in his memory for months now and the one that came to his mind every time someone tried to give him something similar.

He would call himself a narcissist, yearning for the touch of his own body, if it wasn't for the fact Steven carried it differently to an extreme degree; to the point where it felt like a completely separate person. His touch was so tender whereas Marc's was firm, his was dripping hesitation when Marc's distinguish itself by confidence, and finally - Steven brought warmth, trust and love where Marc could only provide safety. 

Physically, they were also different. Marc was always straight as a ruler, unable to stoop, his posture always asserting dominance. Used to deploy an iron-clad grip, muscles constantly tense and on the verge of ache. Steven wasn't like that, no. There was a gentleness in the way he slouched a little, with his shoulders and bladder loose, prioritising everyone else's comfort above his own. Absurdly naive sometimes in his belief that everyone was good at heart, some people simply lacking something in their life if they showed other, cooler shades of their personalities. Letting them walk all over him due to refusing to accept the fact that some of them were just pricks and no amount of kindness would ever change that. It all showed up in the way Marc was constantly keeping his guards up while Steven walked around wearing his heart on his sleeve.

But when it came to holding his close ones in his arms, Steven changed diametrically; his grip strong and desperate, squeezing their body with his own, locking them in an unbreakable hold for what could last an eternity. Marc was his opposite; he would wrap his arms around another person with a sense of distance, not letting them cling to his body completely, so he could still have a good chance of blocking an attack or escaping. 

Of course, with Steven in his arms, he threw all his tactics away without batting an eyelid, letting his body join the battle over who consumed who in the tight embrace they shared twice. 

Marc still could recall his scent as he buried his nose in the British one's hair after quickly pressing his lips to his temple while Steven occupied himself with clenching his fists on the material of Marc's t-shirt, squidging the meat on his back and possibly bruising his shoulderblades in the process. The world around them seemed to stop spinning for a while, time frozen on a single second stretching to hours. Not an ounce of spare space between the two of them to fit the thinnest needle. Their knuckles white as snow on the tan skin of their hands, with veins more visible and bluer than usual. It felt like home when Steven was blowing hot air down the side of Marc's neck, his sharp jaw nudged into the American's collarbone. Desperate gaps that were making them both feel dizzy made the whole experience even more special, and Marc quickly decided at that moment that it was once in a lifetime experience no one ever would be able to replicate for him.

And yet, Steven did it again, holding him tight enough to steal his breath if he wanted to, not so long after the first time. His Steven. The incredibly stubborn, righteous Steven who refused to kill a hippopotamus and hijack an ancient boat to save his life.

Ever since then, no one could make Marc feel quite the same as he felt in his alter's arms. Not even his wife, and he loved and cared for her deeply. Nothing seemed to taste even remotely similar, at some point Marc resigned to this thought. 

Even so, he still can't help the immense tug of longing deep in his chest as he gives Steven's coworker a few friendly strokes on her lower back, earning a satisfied purr from her.

"Can't believe you finally let me do this, after so long?" she says with her fingers buried in his hair, playfully curling some locks at the back of his head around her finger. Marc stiffens at the sound of this statement, and as he slowly pulls away from her, he feels his heart sinking, joining the little tight knot already formed in his stomach.

"What'd you say?" He asks just for the sake of hearing it again, already knowing the answer and processing it in his mind.

"You never let anyone touch you, honestly I was starting to worry you'll never give up and let me hug you. I suppose you like using force beforehand, I don't know, some kind of hot and cold behaviour," the girl starts mumbling so fast the words blur together and it makes Marc's brain feel like it's about to explode trying to make sense of what is happening, "Hey, I don't judge, of course, I just didn't take you as an 'into bondage' kinda guy, know what I mean?"

"Anna" is all he's able to say as the begging of a headache builds up a familiar pressure behind his eyes. An ice-cold feeling shoots up his spine when the realization of the meaning behind her words strikes him with the force of a thunderbolt, and he lets go of her in a matter of seconds, glaring at her in unspoken reprimand that only he knows hides stupefaction behind its sharpness. She looks surprised, he can tell by the way her blue eyes widen and a faint blush makes its way to her cheeks and nose, but she's mainly confused, and to be honest, so is Marc. He only agreed to this hug because he thought it was a norm for her and Steven; a standard greeting they gave each other every day at work. He left the safety of his comfort zone because of this misunderstanding, letting unwanted memories get to him when he needed them the least. All because of a girl who decided to take advantage of his mistake.

He lets out an exasperated sign.

"Listen, I need you to understand that this was a one-time thing," he starts, his voice is soft but firm, letting her know he's not mad at her, but he's also not kidding with what he has to say, "I attacked you without reason, and you deserved some kind of a remedy, eh? But it doesn't change the fact that if I say I don't wish for you to touch me, I mean it. For as long as I don't voice out that I've changed my mind. You heard me?" as he asks that question, he points at her with an expectant look in his eyes, actually meeting hers for the first time in the entire duration of their conversation.

"Loud and clear, Steven." Anna nods while answering him, and at that, he shakes his head, more to himself than at her actions, and settles himself behind the still not fully operative cash register, muttering under his breath something alongside the words:

"Something to keep in mind for the future, yeah?"

* * ☾ * *

She lives up to that promise for approximately two hours. 

Two long hours, or not long enough, Marc can't really decide. The entire room seems to be spinning as he tries to mimic Anna's actions around the gift shop, discreetly peeking at what she inserts into the system while scanning merchandise, hesitantly serving some older clients (which he chooses on purpose, hoping their age would help them be more patient with his pace than younger people), and sneaking around the room, pretending to be tidying up the store just so he can avoid the stubborn cash register. As he's picking up different figurines, puzzles and books, he actually takes short moments to inspect them in his late attempt to get to know what kind of job Steven deals with on daily basis. Obviously, he's ignoring the fact that half of the letters on the books' covers are barely visible to him without his reading glasses - that goes without question. In his opinion he doesn't need them, glasses are for the other guy, and he does just fine without them. And if his eyes start hurting after the first hour of having to read small letters on everything, he tells himself there's surely another reason for it. Thus, he settles on rubbing his eyelids every five minutes as a solution to the problem.

When the clock on his watch hits 12:10 pm and he's standing next to the scanner with the fingers of one hand curled around a paper cup halfway filled with coffee and the other fidgeting with a stray wiry basket with some cheap bracelets in it, that's when Anna shoots her shot again.

With one smooth move, she places herself in the small space between him and the counter, and Marc's hand, forced to abandon the basket, is quickly shoved down his front pocket. He raises an eyebrow at her ministrations, not sure what the sinister sparkles in her eyes could mean. The silence around them feels thick on his lips, sounds loud in his ears, and it all makes him uncomfortable, so he tries to step backwards in a desire to regain the sense of personal space, however, he's stopped dead in his tracks by the slender hands on his sweater.

"I know I'm not allowed to touch you," she asks with a sweet, gentle voice, attention directed at one of his sleeves which she finds herself absentmindedly playing with. One of her fingertips accidentally brushes over soft skin there and she feels how the dark hairs on his forearm stand up as a direct result of goosebumps. A ghost of a smirk dances on the corners of her lips as she makes notice of his reaction to her touch, "but you didn't really tell me why. Don't you like me?"

"I-I don't know" comes as an answer, to which confusion settles in her furrowed brows.

"You don't know?" she repeats after him in a form of a question and he only nods in response.

It's true, he doesn't know. Not the slightest idea comes to his mind as to why Steven feels repulsed about his co-worker to a point where he visibly keeps off her touch and makes her aware of that, even. Out of the two of them, Marc is pretty sure he's the one who avoids socialising, with Steven being the one craving it so badly, he's willing to go to a steakhouse, despite being vegan, just to meet up with a girl he had a date scheduled. The American once again regrets not paying attention to his alter's behaviour at work and therefore being left in the dark as to why it seems like for once in his lifetime Steven is running away from human interaction instead of chasing it.

"Listen, Anna. Please, listen to me," he murmurs after putting the coffee cup away and he snaps his fingers to get her attention before putting his hand in the pocket of his pants. "I'm 38, come to that I could very easily be your father," he adds in the hope this excuse will be enough to take the girl's hands off him. Unfortunately, he quickly discovers how wrong he was for thinking it when Anna places her hand on his cheek and focuses on tracing the line of his growth.

"Wouldn't mind calling you daddy, you know." As Marc registers her purr, a cold shiver slides down his spine at her words and for a moment scotomas are taking over his vision. 

"Why would you- it wouldn't make sense, now, would it?" he asks, disorientation painting across his face, and it has Anna chuckling genuinely but Marc continues nevertheless as if she hasn't interrupted him with her reaction. "I meant that I could be your father, I'm old enough to be. I'm not, so there's no-"

"Steven." Her voice takes a demanding tone, yet her expression remains soft. She's looking him straight in the eyes and he's not looking at her at all, glancing at the scanner behind her instead. "See that's why I like you so much."

"You do?"

"I do," nodding, she swipes at his lower lip with her thumb, making him thread his brows in consternation. "You're so awkwardly funny, so adorably unaware, and so freakishly hot with your tan skin, forever exhausted look, and now this," she accentuates her last word, gesturing lazily at his entire frame prior to going back to her rambling, "fuck, you're looking good today. Can't take my eyes off you."

At that moment Marc is too close to passing out, to say the least.

"Sorry. But..." comes from his mouth, he sounds husky and it encourages him to clear his throat while he takes a quick look over the store to check whether there's someone in there save for them. Then his eyes lock with hers, "Are you flirting with me?"

"Been doing it since you first arrived here, thanks for finally noticing." Before, during and after making this statement, she's laughing gently, there's pure joy in her eyes, that he could be sure of. "Bit late to the party, aren't you?" she asks next but she doesn't sound rude. Something in Marc wishes she sounded rude, though, so he could end this conversation. 

"I don't actually do- speak... the language of love. Or whatever." It's obvious he's trying to act as nonchalantly as he possibly can, but nervousness pours out from the tone of his voice. Once again he makes an effort to step away from her.

"Oh, I'd gladly teach you if you let me." A suggestion dripping with something that tells Marc she wanted to sound coquettish, which only adds to his rapidity as he wraps his hands around her wrists and pulls away from her.

"No, thank you," he says, already on his way to the store's entrance, "Be right back, need to use the loo."

Needless to say, he doesn't return.

His head is throbbing agonisingly while he's making his way across the hallway in search of the toilets. Stroking through the mess of wild curls, he scratches at his scalp hoping to find relief in mild pain. Words can't seem to describe the utter confusion that ties a knot in his abdomen.

He looks over his shoulder when cautiously scanning the space around him, as if expecting Anna to follow him for some reason, and when he makes sure she isn't, that's when he bumps into something, or rather someone, and if it makes him jump a little, he will take this secret to the grave with him.

"Steven!"

"Mr- Security guard," Marc breathes indiscriminately, just to hawk as soon as the elder man knits his brows at him, and immediately corrects himself, "Mr Henry" comes from him right after glancing at the man's nametag. "Mr Henry."

"I'm old, Steven, not deaf" the guard snaps at him, Marc winces, even though he doesn't show that on his face, and the older one sighs without any particular reason. "Where you headed, eh?"

"The loo."

"It's the opposite way, kid."

"Oh. Right."

For a moment they resign to the dead silence of the awkward situation. Both of them cross their arms on their chests, Marc hawks two or three more times, and somewhere between the second and the third time he switches his pose to staying straight and rubbing the nape his nape. Meantime Henry absentmindedly taps the silver clasp of his belt with the fingertip of his index.

"So... How are you?" Marc begins, trying to sound as friendly as he can, but trails off as soon as he sees Henry's hand waving at him dismissively. 

"You know I'm not a fan of small talks, Steven," he admits, making Marc instantly like him, "Might wanna hurry if you really need the loo, they are closing the museum." 

After that, Henry is already continuing his walk across the hallway, leaving Marc even more confused than he already was. The younger looks at the dock of his watch and his eyebrows furrow for gods know which time this day. His stare chases the slowly pacing co-worker, and before he even acknowledges it, he shouts after him.

"Any particular reason for that?"

"I don't know, something in the air is killing people again and the authorities told people to sit their arses at home. It's like the damn pandemic all over again..."

The guard is still grumbling as he slowly disappears behind the corner, but Marc doesn't listen to him anymore. He lets out another exasperated sigh, trying to wrap his lost head around what's going on exactly.

"What pandemic - never mind, actually," he adds a blurred fuck this day in his mind, then gives up in favour of making his way out of the museum with the heels of his palms digging ruthlessly into his eye sockets.

The ex-mercenary doesn't go back home, though, instead, he drags his feet to another familiar place that is the storage locker. Again, on his way not even once does he look around, a part of him secretly wishing for a deep hood in which he could hide his face. Forever grateful that the word seemed to have spread about the lockdown, the streets and pavements are almost empty, with only a few lost souls here and there rushing homes and a distant siren of an ambulance reaching his ears. Marc detached himself from the external stimuli, with half-lidded eyes watching the route before him but not really seeing anything peculiar.

The warm light of a single bulb welcomes him in the well-known emptiness of military green boxes stocked neatly along the walls, right after he's greeted by the guy working at the reception and given the key to locker 43. With a prolonged glance around the room, he makes notice of the artefacts of his old life - some clothes, emergency supplies and a cot in the corner with a modest, flat pillow on it. 

Weirdly enough, tin walls blurrily reflecting his body, with the pervasive order of the room coming from every single thing stored in it, somehow manage to ease his every nerve, spreading a sense of peace through every limb.

With a quiet sigh, he makes his way across the room until he's standing at the side of the cot. He sits up on the edge, takes his sneakers off to set them aside, lined up with the box standing next near, and lays himself on the flat, a bit rough even, surface.

He stays in late, just lying there and staring at the ceiling.

If he takes the pillow from underneath him and puts it on his face for a brief moment somewhere along the way, there is no one with him to witness it.

If he lets himself scream once or twice in the same pillow, there is no one there to hear it as well.

If he passes away from enfeeblement, he also comes to on his own, still able to deny he's tired, in case someone asks him about it.

He doesn't feel Steven, which in this precise case is good, too. Other than that, he wants him back already. Still, he does nothing to trigger him back to the front.

Even as a single tear carves its way along the crow's feet, down the side of his cheek.

He's not tired.

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

❛ FALLING IN LOVE WITH A BIKER ❜

with Obispo ‘Bishop’ Losa.

Request: hermaaaaaana, hello😊 literalmente que llevo veinte minutos pensando en que te puedo preguntar but i think i got it. so if it’s okay for you, i would like to request a headcanon with bishop in which he mets the reader for first time and it’s love at first sight or something like that, only if you are comfortable with it. Thank youuuuuuu💖

BY @aquamento

Word count: about 1.9k

Aurora says: this writing hasn't been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I'm sorry about that!

Gif credits: to my wonderful @sonsofeorl ✨

Masterlist. You can subscribe to my broadcast list, to be notified whenever I post a writing!

“Please… tell me that bike is yours”.

Bishop is stationed in front of the Reyes carnicería, with the rest of his crew at both sides. His eyes are glued on your anatomy, touring the random tattoos all around your arms and enraptured on the way your hips move covered by a pair of black bike shorts. His heart stops when he sees you hanging the meat packet by your teeth, to wear the leather gloves, before keeping your order on the bag of your Harley.

“Fuck”.

Wearing the helmet, while you sit on top of your motorcycle, you raise your eyes feeling strongly stalked. You can't help but chuckle wearing your sunglasses, before turning on the engine. Chewing a mint gun, you pass them away with a funny smirk installed on your face. Probably, they have never seen a girl like you, and you're not actually surprised after seeing how women are in Santo Padre. You have three kinds: uptight, too old or too used. And you look like candy at a school gate. Mayans are the children.

He begs and prays to run into you, riding the city every night at the same hour, around Felipe's carnicería.

He doesn't lose hope for almost one month. But after this much time, he starts to be desperate. Bishop could have memorized your plate, but he was too busy admiring your mere existence.

Taza tried to help him, by using the database statewide using the model of your bike. But there were too many results, with different names of men and women, and none based on Santo Padre.

He has suddenly fallen in love and he doesn't even know your name.

Until he met you again.

Sipping by the straw of your cup of coffee, you're checking some messages of your father. You have forgotten your laptop in Santa Madre and you need it for work, so you're trying to convince him to bring it to your new town.

“(Y/N)”.

Frowning confused by the male hoarse voice, you raise your eyes from the screen, finding a middle-age man with a dense moustache over his smile.

“Do I know you?”

“I'm Obispo. Obispo Losa, but you can call me Bishop”. He offers you a hand, narrowing it with your left one in an awkward move that makes the two of you laugh. “Southpaw?”

“Got a coffee in my right”. You reply shaking your hand.

“I stopped you 'cause I like your bike”.

“Ain't selling”.

“I wasn't trying to buy it, it's just a compliment”. He says wearing his gloves, bowing down his head for a second. “I run the scrapyard, in case you need a rechange, or something”.

“It's good to know it”.

You watch him leaving you there, puckering your lips while you turn slightly, before continuing with your walk.

He was nervous as fuck trying to you, but it looks like that his trap can works on you.

And actually, it does. He has woken up an interest in you. Not because of his kutte, but because the way he had of licking his incisors with the tip of his tongue when you laughed.

These small details not everyone pays attention to.

And you take the bait. His bait.

You didn't have any excuse to visit the scrapyard, so with all the pain squeezing your heart, you hammer a nail in the back tire of your bike. Almost dragging it for one mile, you reach the place. That's going to cost you some bucks, but it's worth it. Anchoring the kickstand close to the office, you follow the rhythmic latin music to flood into a crowded yard. Sounds like a party. Looks like a party. With the hands kept in the back pockets of your shorts, you lean over your tiptoes trying to find the owner.

“Need help, mami?” A mexican accent makes you turn to your left.

“Yeah, 'am looking for… Obispo?” You say wrinkling your nose at the man with long black hair and a cigar on his lips, having a smoke.

“Yo! Prez!” Turning away, the man yells another name you can't understand.

Your orbs find the darkest ones, but what you see instead of what you were expecting provokes you some bitter shivers. On his lap there's an exuberant woman, wearing nothing but a short skirt and a white lace bra, and one of his hands caressing her thigh. Who the fuck is that guy and who the fuck does he think you are? Regretting your decision of coming, you turn over your steps to not continue looking at him, crossing your arms over your chest almost kicking the dust with the tip of your sneakers.

“You came”. He sounds excited, but somewhat nervous.

“Yeah, and now I would prefer to haven't done it”, you think to yourself.

“Yeah, I just… had a problem with a wheel and a nail”. You reply, shrugging your shoulders. “But that guy can attend me, you don't have to. I mean, you were occupied”.

“Is she jealous?”, he thinks to himself.

“I have time for you, querida”.

Wrong words. You're not going to fall again, not after what you have seen.

“I only need a wheel. I will come back tomorrow evening”.

“Don't you want a beer?” He sounds disappointed and a little annoyed, raising a hand over his shoulder to point at the party happening behind him.

“No, thanks”.

Watching you go is painful. A kind of sorrow that he never thought that he could feel.

After telling his brothers what happened, they counsel him to wait till the next day.

But you don't go to the scrapyard. You don't want to see him, even if you know that you have to pick up your bike.

Finally, you come back two days later.

Knocking the metallic door, you walk inside the office. The man who attended you the first time and another with strange hands receive you.

“I came for the black and red Harley”.

“Yeah, mami, give me a second”.

The men disappear from the place, while you take a seat on an old leather couch, crossing one leg above the other; moving it impatiently. But again, you have to take off your eyes from the screen of your phone, hearing his voice calling you.

“The bike is ready”. Obispo says with a fleeting smile appearing on his face.

“Good. How much do I own you?” You ask getting up, trying to not look at him too much and focusing on the bill he offers you.

“Nothing, it's on me”.

“Thanks, but I wanna pay”.

“Well, ain't gonna charge you”. He sentences with a chuckle.

Puckering your lips with a forced smile, you pass him away to step out from the office, looking for your bike.

“Hey, wait”.

“What?”

“She's just a friend”.

You pretend that you don't know what he's talking about, making him snort rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“The girl. In the party. She's just a friend”.

“Bueno, congrats”. You just reply, about to walk away again.

“I was wondering if you would like to hang out one day”. These words stop your legs. “Have some beers, a ride, maybe a dinner. Or a lunch. Whatever”.

He's trying. He's trying to fix up what he fucked up. And you are not sure about what response you can give him back. You want to say yes, but, for what? To end like his friend? Sitting on his lap almost naked, surrounded by drunk bikers?

“Sorry, I ain't your type. Don't lose your time”.

You can't believe what you just said, sounding so rude and proud. Bishop frowns.

“My type? And which is my type?” Now, you have offended him, watching him intertwining his hands under his abdomen. Expecting.

“Cheap makeup to leave marks. Lingerie and short skirts. Laughter when something isn't funny. Work hard to look like a man's trophy… Definitely, I'm not your type. I mean, you must be however you want to be, but… sorry, that's not my game”.

“That isn't my game either”. He replies tilting his neck to the left side for some seconds. “I prefer the ones who call me out when I'm being a pendejo”.

“Mommy issues?” Making fun of him, you raise both eyebrows. He chuckles shaking his head. “Thanks for the wheel”.

You don't need no man, but could God please send to you a normal one?

Bishop feels fucked than ever. Annoyed. Bothered.

He tries to figure out how to make it up to you, but he has never had to do something like that.

And his brothers can't help him either.

So he plays one of his best cards.

Be sincere.

The next time he sees you walking around, he makes to stop the whole crew behind him. Jumping off from his bike, he crosses the road with a slow sprint to not being run over. Rolling your eyes, you don't stop your path. Not even when he reaches you.

“Can you listen to me for a second?”

Placing himself in front of you, the man takes off his sunglasses.

“I'm hurry”.

“One sec—”.

“One”. You just say, counting it about to walk away. A hand around your left wrists holds you.

“Please”.

Hearing him beg to you wasn't on your to-do list for today. Facing him with no gesture on you lets him know that you are granting him a second.

“You're gonna think I'm crazy because I have never fell in love at first sight, but when I saw you the first time I fucking swear that you stole my heart, querida. I have been looking for you for a month. Every night. Same hour. Trying to catch the opportunity of talking to you. And maybe, just maybe, I tried to find you by the model of your bike”. You can't lie. You weren't expecting that confession. “I really felt like shit when I saw you in the scrap. The way your face changed when you saw that girl sat on me. And I'm really sorry”.

You don't have a word to reply. Confused. Overwhelmed by a lot of sensations running through your body.

“I ain't the kind of man who… you know what I'm trying to say. And I didn't mean to offend you”.

He keeps silent, waiting for you to say something.

“This has been more than one second”. You try to joke, a little nervous. And you make him laugh again.

“Listen, I know a place with the best meat in the whole California, and a lot of different sauces to dip in. It's forty minutes away, but we can have a ride together”.

“Sounds good, but… I'm on my way to work”.

“We can go whenever you want”.

Bishop isn't going to give up, and you know it.

“You said you're in a hurry, let me take you to your job and think about it on this ride”.

You finally accept, knowing that he's not going to accept a decline as an answer.

And when he finds out that you work in the hospital, he's totally amazed.

And he earns your number after being so sincere with you.

“Maybe, just maybe, I put the nail on purpose”. You confess then, walking backwards to the entrance, facing him with a smile on your face.

[emluvsevermore]

Him (40’s stucky)

{ rb is great, but do not repost somewhere else without credit to me. do not steal my work }

originally posted on Wattpad. you can find my whole collection of stucky one-shots there. username is @/thatenbywitch107

wc: 1,437

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"I'll be back," Bucky said, ruffling Steve's hair. "Don't worry."

"Bucky, it's war. I have a right to worry."

The newly drafted soldier tried to fake a smile, but his boyfriend saw right through it. Luckily, he had the perfect thing to cheer him up.

Steve pulled a small metal object out of his pocket. He held it out to Bucky, who took it.

"What's this?" he said, inspecting it. It was a seemingly blank dog tag, save for three symbols pressed into the metal: S + B.

"Do you like it? I figured a picture of me would be too risky, and this way, you can make up any girls name that starts with S—,"

He was cut off by Bucky crushing him in a hug. Steve tried to hold the tears back but gave up when he heard Bucky sniffling. They held each other as they broke down. Bucky pressed his nose into Steve's hair, eyes squeezed shut. He hated crying, but it was an almost inevitable action. In a few minutes, he would be leaving the best part of his life behind to fend for himself in a city full of danger and disease. Meanwhile, he would be off fighting in a war that he didn't actually want to fight, with a slim chance of returning.

"Bucky... you need to go."

He shook his head profusely. "No..."

"Buck," Steve's voice cracked. "I'll be okay."

The brunette shook with emotion, but slowly pulled out of the embrace. He tucked the tag into his front pocket before turning back to Steve. He held his face in his hands. The couple shared a kiss mixed with salty tears.

Bucky pulled away only slightly, so that their lips still brushed when he spoke. "I love you, Stevie."

"I love you, too, Bucky."

///

He tucked behind a tree. Knowing his chances of survival were close to none, Bucky pulled out the dog tags that were tucked beneath his uniform. He ran his fingers over the extra tag on the chain, feeling the gentle bumps of the 'S + B'.

A bullet flew by, mere inches from Bucky's ear. He aimed his gun, but another soldier in his unit put a hand on his arm and shook his head.

"It's not worth it, Barnes. We're surrounded."

Hesitantly, Bucky lowered his gun to the ground. He held up his hands in surrender, as did the remaining soldiers of the 107th.

///

He was tossed into a dark, muddy cell with several of his comrades.

"We'll get out of here, men. Don't worry," Bucky said, trying his best to be a leader. He clutched the dog tags in his hand.

Yet months went by, and one by one, the men were dragged off. They never returned. Bucky spent his time reading and re-reading the words and numbers on his tags, spending extra time on the one from Steve.

This went on until one day, a German soldier approached the cell. He looked around until he landed on Bucky. He pointed. "You. Up."

///

When Bucky awoke, he was cold and in pain. He tried to sit up, but a strap over his chest and arms pinned him down.

Looking around him, he found that he was in a lab room of some sort. It was dark, so he couldn't make out much, but he seemed to be alone. That didn't last long.

A door clanged open, and three men walked in. Bucky didn't recognize any of them. They spoke amongst each other in German, before one walked up to the table that Bucky laid on. He was a rather short, middle-aged man, with round glasses.

"Trial number 310," he spoke in a thick accent, reading off of a clipboard. "James Buchanan Barnes, 26. Good history of health. Let's hope this one works."

He squinted when a bright lamp above the table was switched on. Before he could realize what was happening, a needle was pressed into his foremen. Within two minutes, he was passed out.

Apparently, "this one" did work, because Bucky remained on that table for another two weeks. At various points in the day, he was poked, prodded, and injected. They didn't always put him under for the tests. When those times came, Bucky forced himself to remember, despite the hunger and pain eating away at him. He ran through what he had memorized; his ID numbers, his full name, his station. Most importantly, he remembered Steve.

Steven Grant Rogers. 25, born and raised in Brooklyn. The best damn artist I've ever known. My boyfriend.

Steven Rogers. Brooklyn. Artist. Boyfriend.

Steve. Artist. Boyfriend.

Steve. Boyfriend.

Steve.

Steve?

///

He mumbled the codes. He had long since forgotten what they meant, but he knew they were important.

S. That one letter rang out in his mind, but he didn't know why.

The metal door swung open once again.

No. No, not again, he thought. One more round and I'll forget him completely. S- Steph? Sam?

But his confusion shifted when he saw the man that approached the table this time. He was different, but familiar.

That's not him, is it? No, it can't be—

"Bucky?"

Oh, shit, it's him.

"S- Steve? Steve."

The blond undid the straps and helped Bucky off the table. He took in his boyfriend, although he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing.

Steve spoke first. "I thought you were dead."

"I thought you were smaller."

The world was at war around them, but the reunited couple stood there, smiling like twitterpated idiots.

"Steve," Bucky cried as he collapsed into his boyfriend's impressive biceps. What the hell happened to the skinny kid he had left behind?

"I've got you, Buck. I'm here." Steve pressed a kiss to Bucky's forehead. "Can you walk?"

"Um—,"

Steve scooped him up anyways. "We need to go."

He ran out of the room with his exhausted boyfriend in his arms. Bucky rested his head against Steve's chest.

"I missed you, Stevie."

Steve glanced down, his expression warm and full of emotion. "I missed you, too, Bucky."

He kissed his forehead once more before continuing at full speed out of the building, and back into the battle.

///

*One week later*

Side by side, they walked into the base. There was applause was the other soldiers realized what was going on.

Agent Carter and Colonel Phillips approached them. As Steve filled them in, Bucky glanced around. Something about the cheering bothered Bucky. None of these men gave a damn about Steve before he got all big and strong. And then all of the sudden, he was a celebrity.

"Hey!" he yelled. "Let's hear it for Captain America!"

And there it was, even louder this time. This support was for Captain America, not Steve Rogers.

Bucky stepped forward so that he was right next to Steve. He took his hand, causing Steve to turn his attention back to him. They shared an affectionate smile.

///

Later that day, Steve and Bucky were alone in a private cabin. Steve had explained their relationship to Peggy and she had sorted it all out.

They sat on the couch in their favorite cuddling position, with one straddling the other, arms wrapped around each other. Except this time, their usual roles were swapped. For one, Bucky was now smaller than Steve, so it made more sense. Two, Bucky needed a little extra comfort. It had only been a week since he got out of the torturous room.

So, Bucky sat on Steve's lap with his face nestled in his neck. They were both exhausted, so Bucky simply placed slow, lazy kisses on Steve's soft skin. In return, Steve traced his fingers up and down Bucky's back.

"How are you feeling, doll?" Steve asked.

"Like I just came back from hell." They were quiet for a moment. "Steve?"

"Mhm?"

"I just want you to know, that you're the most important person in my life. I don't think I would've survived back there if I didn't have thoughts of you keeping me alive. You're a hero to the whole country now. I don't know exactly what this means for us, but I do know that... that even before, when you were skinny little Steve... you were my hero. I don't think I tell you often enough how much I appreciate you."

Steve hugged Bucky even tighter. "I won't let anything happen to you again, or to us. I'm with you till the end of the line."

[shadowgamerhalo]

Hello! May I please have a creepypasta romantic match-up and or a little scenario to go with it? (But only write what your up for) Tysm in advance! Anyways I hope you have a great day/night and tysm once again!

Zodiac sign: Leo sun, Aries moon, Leo rising

Personality Type: ENTP

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Straight (For now might be bi but i'm going with straight) I'm 5'4 and I have a very tiny body frame so i'm extremely petite and pretty small. I'm not very curvy and I literally have the body of a cereal box...lol but its fine because I have nice hips and thighs. I have thick brown hair that goes down to my back and it gets tangled pretty easily but its kinda fluffy. I have brown eyes and tiny freckles all over my face and body. I also have a very strong grunge style, like Flannels, band t-shirts, combat boots, leather jackets etc. But i'd also always enjoy a nice oversized sweatshirt or hoodie with a pair of skinny, ripped jeans and some converses or something along those lines. For my personality.....this is where things get interesting. At first people find me very intimidating due to my resting bitch face and cold exterior but I promise i'm not like that ALL the time. When you get to know me, i'm goofy and about everything that comes out of my mouth is sarcasm or some dry humored joke. I'm also that one friend in a group where they literally will do the stupidest shit ever like for an example one time it was super dark outside and my other friend was there, while I was trying to climb a tree and I failed and fell out of the tree, and landed on my back. I got straight up after that somehow it didn't hurt.....like at all? But yeah i'm super reckless and sometimes people have to save me from myself if you get what I mean. I also have a very strong "I don't give a fuck" attitude and I will not hesitate to stick up for myself or my friends....like i'm the type of person where if someone glares at me, i'll glare right back.

I have bad anxiety and I can be very self destructive. This is where my feisty, stubborn, hardheaded side comes in. If I want something then i'll fight for it even if it hurts me and i'll get into a bad cycle of putting myself down and trying to do better even if I did great the first time but I always push myself too far and other people have to stop me because I usually can't see it when its happening. I also cover my emotions up and I have a lot of trouble talking about whats bothering me or what problems i'm having emotionally so I put up a wall and I act tough, or happy and sometimes i'll be the exact opposite but I try to hide it. Weird things about me: I've grown up in the south all my life so sometimes when I talk a few words they'll come out sounding WAYYY more country and southern then I wanted, I don't have an accent but sometimes my words just come out that way. I also love the smell of cigarette smoke....let me explain. When I was a kid my parents smoked a lot and I was used to smelling it and now it reminds me of home and is sort of comforting.

Things I like: I love swimming (I was on a swim team for about 9 years), I love horror movies, I like rain and the sounds of thunderstorms because its calming to me, I also love the smell of rain, I like cloudy days, cooking, listening to 80's and 90's rock but mainly 90's because 90's is the best, My favorite bands are Bush, Audioslave, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Linkoln Park, Pearl jam but i'm pretty open to anything.

Things I dislike: Spiders.......I will scream if I see a spider.

I pair you with the part tsundere Bloody Painter!

Helen doesn't fall easily. So your relationship was probably a bit rocky, with first impression, since Helen and you have that same problem. This though, did start the conversation which led to your relationship, so it was actually was good in the end!

In general Helen has a quiet exterior, though once you got to know each other, you can actually see why he hangs around Puppet. Cause this man, has one wicked sense of humor. As soon as you show your more goofy, sacrasm side. Helen is showing how devious he is. You'll likely see it first with your fear of spiders. Expect a bit of teasing, cause he will smirk at you, before he squishes it, and then proceed to tease you a bit.

He's definitely the kind of person to trick someone into doing something stupid, for his amusement. So he will make no exception of not pulling that on you. Though he will probably make sure you're okay in the end, just cause he loves you. The kind of person to deny it, but really you can tell. Cause for you, he's easier to read. If you stick up for friends, then expect him right behind you making the most threatening aura possible to the person you're fighting. Which means you'll win most of your fights, without having to throw a punch.

Your anxiety and self destructive tendencies, will likely have you seeing a very gentle and soft side to Helen, much quicker than you would think. He also has trouble explaining his emotions, though he will become good at reading yours. Likely you will become good at reading his, so it'll be a balance. Granted, Helen is stubborn too, though in a different way as he's also patient. He will stick with you once he's attached, no matter what.

You sounded southern with some words, actually makes Helen giggle and he will tease you for it. Though once you're around him long enough, you'll realize that he has that. Such as him sounding more cockney, such as whenever he tries to pronounce meter, and so on and so forth. Plus a bonus if you hear him say shit. I suggest recording that, to tease him back as revenge >;)

Helen surprisely smokes, not a lot but you can tell when he does. So you'll probably smell it in his clothes. Which means if you steal them, that means you'll get a flustered Helen, who probably will initiate cuddles afterwards. Cause he's not the tallest in the manor, being at 5'8, but you'll still be smol to him, which he adores. He won't mock you for your height, though he might pick you up like a cat. He also likes your hair, cause he can style it for drawings of you, and he likes running his fingers through your hair while cuddling.

Speaking of drawing, expect to be draw a lot. Like even when you're not too aware of it, Helen will probably be drawing you absent-mindly. If you're swimming, probably will be drawing you doing it. Helen will show you his art, as you've become his muse. No worries, not the blood paintings. He might even give you ones with things you like, like a cloudy day one.

You can introduce him to your music, and he'll likely listen to it with you while he draws or paints. Also, you'll have to remind him to eat sometimes especially when he's in creative mode, so practice for cooking. Also if you give him some shepherd's pie, he will shower you with affection.

This one took a while, as I tried my best to find on that fit. I hope this to your liking, I did my best. If you want a scenario based off of this then, I'm happy to provide. This goes for all who ask for match-ups.

[punkscowardschampions]

Ali & Tommy

Ali: [Let us assume he has gone back to school now and this was a weekend affair] Ali: You forgot your 🕯 Ali: expect it in the post, minus the disappointed note from Ro I've taken out Ali: ✈️ trips not guilt trips, welcome Tommy: leave it in, LOVE to hear what she's gotta say about why I'M the one being a holy show Ali: You aren't respecting the sanctity of her offering, is very much the point and gist Ali: she put more letters to it, as standard Tommy: 'course she did Ali: It does mean a lot to her Ali: but yeah, nice to have my 📅 to myself again, can't lie Tommy: meant so much she fucked off soon as the 🎂 candles were out Ali: You know she isn't the party 'til dawn sort Ali: anyway, they'd be coming in for morning service 😅 Tommy: I know it's her party & she can 😭 if she wants to Ali: If I'd known that was the theme, could've made party bags with 🧅 & 🧻 Ali: well, at least you were in your element 🕺 and you kept Meena and Carly entertained Ali: the hostess not being overly concerned herself, like Tommy: this family's hostess with the mostest has & always will be me, honey Tommy: what else do they teach me at this school, like? Ali: I had no idea you were at finishing school, my apologies Ali: how's things with keeping a man then, Holly Housewife? Tommy: Why stop at strutting with 📚 on our heads when we could do it in 🩰 perfectly en pointe, carrying a sulky ballerina all the while? Basically a Latin motto Tommy: & yet I still can't keep a man, cheers for the reminder Ali: Maybe now you're of age they introduce the final string to your bow Ali: quadruple threat = 🎤🕺🎭🍆 Tommy: 😂🤞🙏 Tommy: stole your girl regardless, tell her to call me when she's slept off the festivities Ali: No doubt she will when she's between the next couple of parties 😜 Ali: your girl is here actually, helping Ro 'organise' her presents Ali: dunno where she parked her 🎃 Tommy: I'll join Fraze in the red corner 😍💋💔🤬🎯👿🥤🤡🥵🛑💘 Tommy: those dolls do go walk abouts if you don't keep a 👀 but obviously she was 🤞🙏 I was still there Ali: He might misconstrue that and come to fight for her honour Ali: 🤞🙏 she's in LDN too, naturally Ali: lots of them are haunted, but that last part of your sentence there is the MOST 😱 ever Ali: it's weird when you approach anything fuck boy like Tommy: miscommunication is his thing™ no hard feels or feelings full stop, 'course 💪🚫😭🚫😍 Tommy: what can I say? being back DOES things to me Tommy: it's all the positive masculine role models this family has Ali: Guess it beats a total lack of @Joseph Ali: though he sent her some book about musical theory so he still manages to be the favourite somehow 🤷 Ali: and hey, dad is the best Tommy: v catty & then cuddly of you, Kit Tommy: he doesn't respond to MY efforts at being a daddy's girl exactly the same way somehow 🤷 Ali: we're both living up to what's expected then 😼 Ali: could just be I'm better at it than you though Ali: if your ego will allow it Tommy: can't let our sister fly that flag alone, like Tommy: as for who's better at kissing the arse of authority figures, don't need to dignify that with an answer 'cause my school report will Tommy: you ain't never been a pleasure to have in class Ali: I might genuinely have to shoot myself if anyone ever said anything so asinine about me so you're right Ali: that would be such a waste of potential, not until I've lead a more scandal-filled existence Tommy: you could respect the hustle Tommy: it's getting me 🩰 perks Tommy: disciplined is the head that wears the 👑 hoe Ali: I know all about discipline, trust me Tommy: we've all read 50 shades, you can't take it as gospel Tommy: Ro could write a better bdsm bibe when she's done at church Tommy: bible* Ali: It's all fun and games 'til I walk in on her flagellating herself Ali: how are we explaining that to the shrinks Tommy: that she misunderstood a more sexy f word? Ali: we don't want to look like we're trying to lock her up for that Ali: way too retro, bro Tommy: She wants to be catholic Tommy: I didn't make the rules Ali: No, then da really would hate you Ali: she's got worse Tommy: Yeah Tommy: I know, no amount of drama from the golden couple could detract Ali: not that I haven't heard enough about that though Ali: guess there's too much to put in a passive-aggressive note Tommy: 🙄🥱😴 Tommy: She wasn't even THAT late & tbh I wouldn't have blamed her for doing a Joe no show Ali: I would've understood if she was upset when she wasn't coming Ali: I am when Joe doesn't, whatever Ali: but I think she was actually MORE upset that she did come in the end, and not just because she was messy, but because Ro thought she wouldn't Ali: I don't get it, they're complicated, always have been but ??? Tommy: she can't hold being a good sister over her, like you can't me being the most fabulous brother in existence 🏆 Tommy: the fuck ups are more fun to bring to a 🥊 Ali: I guess that's more likely than them being all 💕💞 Ali: but fucking hell, does it hurt to hope Tommy: it's hurting you 😿 Tommy: she'll be too hangry to hope Ali: I have no hope or agenda for your 🏆 or 👑 dear brother Ali: but seriously Ali: what does she want Tommy: like you said ???? Tommy: there's every chance I'm bringing too much McKenna magic to the motives & she don't wanna bear a grudge til the end of her days Ali: because it doesn't sound like her at all Ali: if you can't be honest in the DMs where can you, eh, to quote that romcom Ali: fucked if I know what to do about it right now though Ali: maybe I need to sleep off the festivities, or get something to eat Tommy: long as you're not so hysterical you run into the path of an oncoming car, to recall another faithful role of hers Ali: have you adapted that for the stage? Ali: get 5 of you to be the 🚗 Tommy: dibs 'cause I can't do the accent Tommy: not that loads of 'em posh kids can either Ali: they'll have spent enough time gentrifying the east end to have it down, offensively so but all adds to the hysterics Tommy: I'll pitch it then 💡 Tommy: go down better than her 🎤🎵 Ali: better than her when she got hit by the car, like Ali: give me credit or I'll turn up and make a SCENE Tommy: like I wouldn't be LIVING for that Tommy: if we are being honest in the DMS Ali: I'll work on my RICKKAAAAAAAAAAAY Ali: maybe can convince Ro to be Sharon Tommy: hang around your ma in law & you'll ace it in no time Ali: Ha Ali: she'd accept Peggy, not Pat Tommy: fair, Laoise's ma's the one more likely to express herself with big earrings & animal prints Tommy: but I don't know if Sam Mitchell is a favourable role for Carls, what did she ever even do? Ali: Are you trying to tell me it's NOT a look? 🤔 Ali: or that you rate Laoise's mum? Ali: The character, nothing, the OG actress lost her nose so we're all agreed that's a no Tommy: I'd rate seeing her da on the doorstep in nothing but a bow tie for how mortified she'd be when I uploaded it Tommy: Grant's also no, he knocked Martine on her arse way before that car Tommy: but if she's Phil, you're Sharon so that's a yeah from me, like Ali: Don't, her dad always gave me those vibes Ali: and you ain't actually on the street still to have to witness that 🤮 Ali: I don't know how she'll feel about going bald, I'll float it gently before getting out the clippers Tommy: Do Rock's while you're there, he looks feral Tommy: even that nonce wouldn't have him Ali: You know his ears would get chapped Ali: hair is essential or he'll fly away on the breeze Ali: and we'd all be devastated, obvs Tommy: don't start me thinking about that scene in Dumbo, cheers very much Tommy: 😭😭😭😭😭😭 Ali: Such a depressing film Ali: disney gives me bad vibes Tommy: the park is creepy & you won't catch me there Tommy: whether or not Walt was a Nazi it's still a nah from me Ali: Wee bit concerning that emotional manipulation and forced fun trumps facism/literal Nazis for you but we'll 🤐 Ali: ma is in enough of a mood and she'll only direct it at me so nah Tommy: well his racism is disputed depending whether you're in camp 😇 saint him 🙏 or camp cast him into the hellfire 👿 Tommy: the forced fun & emotional manipulation is just facts Ali: 👿 advocate Tommy: I'm gonna go to hell 🤞 he's an ally Ali: 😬 Ali: it's a punishment, not a holiday Tommy: it'll be a grand hol for my pores Tommy: love a sauna sesh Ali: that London smog is not it Ali: how black is your snot? Tommy: as Ro's soul 💀 Ali: Thomas Tommy: Alison Ali: 🛑 it Tommy: she'd 🖤 to hear it but FINE Ali: you're an enabler, it is known Ali: not the kind of encouragement I'm after tah Tommy: enabling you & your lady love to have a good time, yeah 🕺💃 Tommy: & I fully expected her to turn up with a pet raven is all I'm saying Ali: the best was made of it by all, despite it all Ali: even her, in her way Tommy: despite Kayne appearing 🤵🥀 & all in her case Ali: yeah Ali: ugh Ali: he's harmless enough, bless him Tommy: she'd beg to differ right now Tommy: you're gonna wanna hide the 🍄🍄💀 til she calms down Ali: You don't need to tell me Ali: I think he's just really oblivious Ali: like all lads Ali: it wasn't you know...assaulty Tommy: It's not his fault she's team true love's kiss & he AIN'T it Tommy: who could EVER measure up to the 💭💞 Ali: standards, cool Ali: unrealistic expectations, less so Ali: but I can't really advocate for reality at this point in the game Tommy: You don't need to tell me, sis Ali: you're team turn-a-stage-kiss-real, yeah Ali: it's more realistic than fairytales, anyway, look at strictly Tommy: I'm team when's my life been a shitty made for netflix flick never mind a 🐸🤴📖 Tommy: crushing realism ftw Ali: 💔 Ali: If you didn't have a tragic love-life to complain about, you'd be too insufferable 🤴💩 Tommy: comforting Tommy: I'd HATE to morph into Fraze of a few years back Ali: I'll let you know if you start getting freckles Tommy: I'd know if I woke up with those brows Tommy: nowhere to hide, like Ali: 👺 Tommy: 😂 Ali: What are you getting ma for her bday/have you got already (suckup) Tommy: I left it there if you wanna find & shake the 🎁 Ali: Wow, you really didn't wanna pay postage that bad huh Ali: I'll see if I can 🔮 Tommy: with what? I'm skint after buying hers & Ro's Tommy: & it'll be 🎅🎄🎁 before too long Ali: that's what people really mean when they say dance don't pay Ali: gifting an interpretive dance is nothing but pretentious and unwelcome Ali: I can bodge together however many crafts I need and save my dolla Tommy: been there, tried that one Tommy: so much for your so called genius Tommy: ain't even thought of earning any by busting out the 🎅🎄🎵 classics for a busking sesh, works with 🩰 too I'll have you know Ali: 'til you knock over an old lady and have to leg it, like Ali: and if you hadn't noticed, I've been a little busy making a replica Ro, tah Ali: my creative juices are juiced right now Tommy: I'll make it look like part of the show & have the punters eating out of my palm when I catch & twirl any 👵 before they touch ground Tommy: yeah well you've got time from now, fair game on all things yule from Nov 1st Ali: 👌👌 clearly the LDN ones are more receptive because they're vicious 'round here with their 👜s and I'm only trying to give them the tea they ordered Ali: if ANYONE should advocate for Christmas not dragging, like Tommy: it's Irish dancing or fuck all back there, 365 🌧 or ⛅ Tommy: little girls scam every bit of that trade Ali: ironic when it's catch these hands in every other aspect Ali: so you'll fit right in, eh Ali: feel traumatised yet? Tommy: I'll do my best, as ever Ali: 🤴 Ali: meanwhile ma will have to make do with whatever IOU present I can knock up Ali: maybe I'll babysit, that's never not gonna work Tommy: she was on about going out 🍽 wasn't she? Tommy: Carls will never not be down either Ali: get him to make her a cake Ali: sorted Ali: providing he washes his hands...a full hose down may be necessary actually Tommy: she's survived the 🧁 he brings back from school & we've all seen the state of him at day's end Ali: yeah, cheers for the immunity boost little 🦠 Ali: fair, I'm pretty sure we put some weird and wonderful things into our bakes at his age and no one died Ali: Laoise nearly but you know Tommy: close but no 🚬 Tommy: typical of that bitch Ali: sure a 🙏 was said to finish the job at mass Tommy: if you see her ma mascara running in an lbd, I demand to be the first to know Ali: I'll pap her in her time of distress, it's fine Ali: I can hide up trees for HOURS if needs must Tommy: I'm not above piggybacking on the 'tragedy' to get better grades or a hol Tommy: do your part, like Ali: she won't fall for 🍄 again Ali: her brother might if Ro puts 'em in her gob Tommy: 💞 Ali: more of a mood than without Ali: add a little danger Tommy: she'd appreciate the drama more than anything he could ever do Ali: 💔 Tommy: nah, we're not shipping that Tommy: not today Ali: You gotta make some bad decisions before you make the right ones Tommy: a bad decision was the colour of her 👗 Tommy: the last thing that girl needs is a boy right now Ali: Okay you can't come for anyone vis a vis colour, boy Ali: even if I still see it when I close my eyes after however many weeks sewing Ali: but you may have a point re. a boy Ali: just, some socialisation wouldn't hurt Ali: and as far as they go, he's harmless Tommy: 'Course I do, she can barely exist in front of us Tommy: if they went on a date, what's she gonna do, order a glass of water? Ali: like you haven't seen her fake eat a plate of food Ali: it's only noticeable to all us that she's not actually putting any in her mouth Tommy: 🔮✨ Tommy: if he's TRULY harmless he don't deserve to be harmed by her attitude Tommy: which anyone else not bound by family love & loyalty would call something loads harsher Ali: Don't Ali: I feel bad enough for Meena sometimes Tommy: @ Carly too & we all know it Ali: Yeah, Carly can handle it though, she's mostly unphased even if it is a total thing 🙄 Tommy: She's a 👸😇 I doubt Kayne is that pure of ❤️ or intentions tbh Tommy: & Meena can handle anything so Ali: he's deffo a virgin though Ali: which yes, makes for more desperation, but he can't be that forceful if he dunno what he wants, you know Ali: yeah but God knows why she wants to come 'round here and get more of it at times Tommy: No shit, Kit but everyone's seen a porno, it's not the 70s Tommy: dress for it all you like Tommy: maybe she wants to get out of her own 🏡 Ali: everyone also knows it's bullshit Ali: whatever else she's got that much about her Tommy: does he though? Tommy: all I'm saying Ali: either way, it isn't like she's going to have a miraculous change of heart Ali: we all saw how well it went Tommy: Yeah but what if it makes her heart set on finding someone else to play 🤴 Tommy: you'd know better than me what goes on in her head Ali: She's 15, I don't see how any of us can say or do anything to stop her if that's what she does want Tommy: 15 technically Tommy: 🤷 Ali: If we can't make her eat, you know Ali: what hope do we have for anything beyond that Tommy: 0 Tommy: & it's fucked Ali: Yep Ali: but it's not as if that bombshell has only just been dropped, I guess Ali: we'll carry on doing what we can Tommy: 🔮✨ Ali: ✌💚

[harryfreakinstyles2]

Torn (Part 3) H.S.

I roll over in bed forcing my eyes open. My head a dull ache as I look at the light shining through my curtains. I am assuming it is well past noon based on the amount of times I snoozed my alarm but I am too scared to look at my phone to check the time as the memories from last night come back to me. I climb out of bed and head for the kitchen leaving my phone on my nightstand.

I settle on a peanut butter sandwich after spending fifteen minutes going through the fridge then the cabinets then the fridge again. I really need to go grocery shopping this weekend. I wander into the living room finding a comfortable spot on the couch as I start scrolling through Netflix when I hear Julie's bedroom door open. She enters the living room looking better than I honestly expected her to. There is a huge smile plastered on her face as she takes a seat facing me on the opposite end of the couch. I know exactly where the conversation is going to go and as much as I want to know what is happening with her and Harry, I also don't.

"So how late did you end up getting back home last night?" I try to say as casually as possible avoiding the inevitable topic.

"Actually not that late. Harry wasn't feeling well so he left like thirty minutes after you did and then I came home soon after that." She says matching my casual tone.

Julie has always been this way. She likes to bring up a topic she wants to talk about but makes the other person ask her all the questions. She makes you pry the information out of her even though she wants to give it to you anyway. It always felt like a power move but I never cared and rarely noticed, until now I guess. I try not to read into her mention of Harry leaving early as I continue our conversation.

"So who is Harry exactly? And why have you never mentioned him to me before?" I question her playfully.

"He's no one really. I mean not yet. I met him a few weeks ago and we have hung out a few times when I have been out with friends." Julie responds like it's not important. But she forgets that I have known her since we were eight years old and I can read her from a mile away. It's important.

"Oh well, he seems nice." I say not very convincingly.

I know she was expecting more from me. A comment on how gorgeous he is or his British accent but she lets the topic go and we continue gossiping and laughing for a bit about last night and our drunk friends. But I feel uncomfortable around her like I did something wrong or I am hiding something. I keep telling myself I didn't really do anything wrong. But I feel guilty anyway.

I am slightly relieved that Julie and Harry barely know each other. But less relieved because of the smile on her face when she mentioned his name.

"Dang, what time is it? I really should go work on this essay for a bit." I lie to her so I have an excuse to leave the apartment for a few hours hoping it will help clear my head.

I leave Julie on the couch and rush into my room to change into a hoodie and a pair of yoga pants. Then I quickly throw my laptop, books, and phone into my backpack. I head back into the living room but the couch is empty. I make my way towards the kitchen and still no sight of her so I assume she went back to her room.

"Bye Jules! I'm headed to the coffee shop! I'll be back in a few hours! Call if you need anything!" I yell as I grab my keys off the counter and rush out the door before I hear a response.

There is almost no traffic out to my surprise since it is the middle of the afternoon on a Saturday and I make it to the coffee shop where I work in under ten minutes. I go inside happy when I notice my favorite table in the corner near the window is empty and drop my stuff. After ordering my usual iced coffee I sit back down at the table and start unloading my backpack. I reach for my phone and realize I haven't checked it all day. The screen lights up revealing a few unread messages one from Julie responding to my message from last night. And two from Harry.

Harry: "I'm sorry if I overstepped" he sent thirty minutes after his last message last night.

Harry: "Can I see you again?" He sent an hour ago.

I sigh closing my eyes after reading the messages. I wish I didn't feel guilty about being happy that he wants to see me again. I know he is not dating Julie after our talk this morning. But her smile when she talked about him this morning flashes in my head and I know she wishes they were. I sigh again knowing what I need to do even though it's the last thing I want to do.

Me: "That's not a good idea. I think it's best we stay away from each other."  I read the message again. It's short and to the point. Still wishing I could tell him I would love to see him again, I send the message.

I try to focus on the essay I am working on for next weeks assignment but I keep checking my phone and hoping for a response. Finally I feel my phone vibrate on the table and I pause for a minute scared to read the message.

Harry: "Why? Did I do something?"

I sigh aggravated at the situation and wishing things were different. I can't help myself as I quickly type out a response.

Me: "No, it is not you. Just trust me. It's complicated. It's easier to just leave it alone." I send before I think too much.

Harry: "What are you talking about? Can you just meet up with me and we can talk? I don't understand what the problem is."  he sends back automatically.

I can't help but wonder why he does not see the problem. He knows Julie is my best friend she said it last night. He honestly can not expect me to spend time with him when he has a thing with her.

Me: "I'm sorry Harry. I really don't want to create any problems." I send then set my phone back on the table.

I lean back in my chair and close my eyes realizing that hurt more than I thought it would. Why did he have to meet her first. Why do I feel this weird pull towards him of all people. He is nothing like my last boyfriend. Granted that was senior year of high school which is almost four years ago now but they are polar opposites. My mind flashes to Harry with his tattoos and black T-shirt and matching black skinny jeans. Despite his rough exterior all I can focus on was how warm his smile was and the way his green eyes are burned into my memory.

An hour passes and I haven't received a response. I look out the window and the clouds have moved in signaling a storm is sure to arrive soon. I have written exactly one paragraph and downed my entire iced coffee. Feeling defeated and pathetic I lay my head against the table and sigh while trying again to rid my mind of thoughts of him. Accepting the fact that I will not be getting much work done today I start packing up my things when in the corner of my eye I notice someone approaching my table. I look up, my blue eyes feeling like they are deceiving me as I take in his messy brown curls pushed back from his forehead and green eyes that have been stuck in my head for the last 24 hours. He looks effortlessly beautiful wearing the same tight black jeans from last night and a white Rolling Stones t shirt. I tug at my hoodie now very aware of how awful I must look. I glance at the tattoos covering his arm trying to make out each one now that I can see them in the light. I know I am staring but I can't get myself to look away.

"Hey," He says his deep voice breaking me out of my trance.

"What are you doing here?" Is all I can say in response as my eyes meet his.

"Julie told me you were here and coffee sounded good," He says casually shrugging his shoulders smiling at me while sitting down in the seat across from me.

His presence makes my pulse start to race and he is even more gorgeous than I remember as I stare at the dimple that forms when he smiles. I am trying to wrap my head around the fact that he is even here sitting across from me right now.

"You asked Julie where I was!?!?" I say finally in disbelief.

"No!" He laughs at my reaction. "She invited me over saying she was home alone because you left to come here to study."

"So you came here?" I question him confused at the idea that he would rather come here to see me than be at the apartment alone with Julie.

"Yes, I came here. Does that surprise you? I told you I wanted to talk." He says honestly, and I am even more confused than before. His humor is gone and he is eyeing me looking confused at my reaction.

"I just don't understand why you would come here instead of going to see Julie," I say while staring at my laced fingers resting on the table.

"Julie and I are not together. Never were. I made that clear to her last night. She didn't tell you?" He states leaning forward to draw my attention away from my fingers and back to him.

I can smell his cologne again the same as last night and my heart starts to race when I look up and his face is much too close to mine. My eyes trace the perfect outline of his lips as he speaks again.

"That's why you won't talk to me right? Because of Julie." He asks at just above a whisper like he is trying to lure me closer to him.

"She likes you. She won't admit it but I know she does. Just because you ended it, it doesn't change that. Which means I can't talk to you." I state sounding more confident than I am as his eyes stare directly into mine.

"But I don't want her like that. She knows that. So what is the problem with us getting to know each other?" He questions me and his playful tone from last night is back and a giant smirk is on his lips. His smirk makes me tingle but I am worried that with a face like his and his charming sarcasm he has a long line of girls falling a his feet.

"Because she had you first. She liked you first. You are hers in a way. I can't do that to her. It doesn't matter that you do not want her. She wants you, and she is my best friend. I can't," I say trying to keep my distance without much luck. There is something about him that makes me feel like I have known him forever. I am never this open with people especially people I just met but I can't help it with him.

"She doesn't own me, Allie. Besides she is your best friend that means she should want you to be happy. You want to get to know me as much as I want to get to know you I can feel it." He says with such confidence it terrifies me that he might be able to see right through me. I can't get myself to answer him because I am too afraid of what might slip out. He is still leaning towards me eyes searching mine. "She would understand right?" He says finally realizing I am not going to respond.

"Understand!?" I laugh ignoring his completely accurate observation of my sudden need to be near him. "You don't know Julie," I state.

Harry doesn't respond he just leans back in his chair with a somewhat confused and defeated look on his face. He is staring at his hands and playing with the rings on his fingers and I take the opportunity to memorize him sitting across from me with a slight crease in his forehead as he thinks. I fight the urge to ask him a million questions. I want to know everything about him. I hate the idea of never being able to speak to him again, of not being around him. I sigh louder than I intended to drawing Harry's attention back to me. He looks at me with a small smile like he just came up with the best idea.

"Well, we can be friends then at least right?" He says like it is an easy solution to the problem.

I can't help but smile back at his boyish charm. Even worse I can't resist agreeing when he is looking at me like that.

"Okay. Friends." I say knowing this is a bad idea but the idea of not knowing him is even worse.

[thiswreckageivebecome]

The Winter Soldier is Still Here (Part 25 - “Hail Hydra”) (Bucky/Winter Soldier x reader)

Description: You’re working at the local farmers market when you meet Bucky and catch his eye, not only because you’re the only one who sells plums, but because you treat him like a normal person. As a friendship begins to bloom, it quickly grows into a relationship and you learn that life with Bucky isn’t as easy it originally seemed. I SUCK AT DESCRIPTIONS!

Word count: 2044....a short one, I'm sorry, but I thought a short update might be better than none. In the words of Peggy, “It’s been so long.”

Warnings: Language.

Author’s Note: I don't own art.

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READER POV

__________

I stared in disgusted awe at Jake. This...this was not happening. He was...

"Jake, " I asked almost silently. "Who are y-? Why? What is going on?" He scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Oh please, " he now spoke with a heavy Russian accent, "don't even start with dramatics and hysterics. None of that will help you. Nothing will, really. Oh, the Asset thinks he will save you. Hell, he probably believes he'll sacrifice himself for you, but no. He has no idea the storm that will soon hit him."

"But, Jake....you're...you're... what about the hospital? The hike? Our relationship."

"Oh, you thought that was real," Jake questioned in the voice I recognized. Then he laughed aloud. "Woman, you're a fool. The Asset really fucked you up, didn't he? You fell so easily into the trap. You've been the easiest target we've ever had. If you had left him be you'd have never become involved, yet here you are, still pining for him in New York."

I attempted to get up but the threatening tone that propelled itself at me stopped me cold.

"Don't dare fucking move, you bitch."

"I just, I don't understand. Any of it."

"Боже. ты идиот, но теперь долго, маленькая сука. Look, you're pathetic so I'm going to tell you this and then it's lights out. I'm not Jake. I wouldn't have such a trashy American name. You were the target to get to Barnes. Soon enough he won't remember you and you'll have no way of remembering him. Therefore, rest well knowing that you're the reason he will be serving Hydra once again."

As promised I was unconscious in the next second. The last thing I remembered was his cold hands around my throat and the room slowly dimming until there was nothing but pitch black.

BUCKY POV

___________

I ran to the weaponry faster than I had run in quite some time. I had to get to (y/n) soon. If I didn't get there quick enough, they'd kill her just for spite. As I got to the vault, a message came through on Steve's phone which I would have to steal. It was a location: Jumping Jack Powerplant. While the actual location of this plant had been erased from public record, I knew it well as the hideout Hydra had used when it was after Nick Fury and after its full control attempt at overtaking S.H.I.E.L.D. The location had to be close enough to D.C. to arrive in a short time yet far enough so that it was off of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s radar. I quickly grabbed all of my usual choices: Gerber Yari ll Tanto, SIG-Sauer P220ST, and Vz.61 Skorpion. To be honest, I didn't plan to put up much of a fight unless that's what it took to free (y/n) and get her to safety. Otherwise, I was planning to do what they asked but it was best not to go empty-handed. I closed the vault quickly and as I turned around Natasha was standing in front of me.

"Barnes, what's going on?" The tone of her voice told me she already had a clue.

"Nothing, Natasha. Don't tell anyone I'm gone. I have to go." I pushed past her but she quickly caught up.

"It's Hydra isn't it," she asked as she followed me down the steps. I'd make it downstairs quicker that way.

"Natasha," I called over my shoulder, "please, just go back and pretend you never saw me."

"No," she wouldn't leave me. I halted and turned to her quickly but before I could speak, she figured it out.

"They've got her, don't they?" Her words hit me again like a fresh ton of bricks, the reality sinking in more than it already had. I halted for a second to stop myself from stumbling as the weight on my chest began to cave in. I began to continue my descent but she didn't move.

"They're just trying to get to you, Barnes. They only want you."

"You think I don't know that? I don't care. I can't let her die on my account."

"Just so we're clear."

She quickly caught up with me and actually passed me. By the time I made it down she already had the vehicle pulled to the door.

"Get in." After I was in and the door just shut, "where to," she asked.

"Jumping Jack Powerplant. It's North o-"

"Of D.C. Yeah, I remember." I simply nodded. We rode in silence for quite some time. When we were about 15 minutes out, she broke the silence. "So what's the plan when we get in." I remained silent. "You do have a plan, right," she asked worriedly.

"Yeah. Kill anyone who gets in my way to (y/n)."

READER POV

————————

I awoke with bright lights shining in my eyes, lights so bright that I immediately had to squint. There was a beeping noise. It started to speed up and then I realized it must have been a heart monitor.

"The stupid princess awakes," Jake...or whatever his name was...spat. "The asset isn't here yet so you might as well calm down. No use in screaming either, no one will ever hear you and we made it where you can't reach your full voice anyway."

I tried to speak but no sound came out. I began to panic. What had he done to me? He smiled.

"You're one of the most stubborn women I've ever met. I just told you-you cannot reach your full voice, yet what is the first thing you try to do? You won't be able to scream or even speak for a while. You might as well calm down, otherwise, I'll put you back under." I attempted to calm down. I needed to be as aware of everything he would do as I possibly could. I tried to lie still and keep my face even and emotionless. After a few moments of this, he commented on it. "Hmm, maybe there's a reason you and the Asset got along so well. You're both able to turn off your emotion so well. Granted I'm sure the serum helps." I had to stop my eyes from growing and becoming restless again as he got ready to continue.

"You know, this little serum right here," he held up a syringe that held an almost clear, slightly blue-tinted liquid inside, "took us many years to perfect but once we did, we made vats of it. We keep it stored safely away in a top secret location, of course. I can't wait to use it on you. The ladies always have the best reaction," he finished explaining eerily. He began wrapping an elastic band around my arm and I couldn't remain calm any longer. I started to try and shake the table straps loose so that I could, in turn, get away. I knew it was useless but I had to fight. If nothing else, maybe I could keep him from getting whatever serum he was so in love with, within my body. I couldn't scream but that didn't stop me from trying. I could feel the tight sinched air attempting to scratch its way out into the warehouse but it wasn't going far. I didn't struggle for long. He stuck a different syringe quickly in my arm and there was the darkness that immediately surrounded me.

BUCKY POV

———————-

Natasha parked far enough away that we wouldn't be detected and I got into the driver's seat and drove slowly up to the building, on high alert for any sneak attacks. I knew Natasha wouldn't be far behind me, probably already making her way into the building before I pulled up and parked outside of the locked fence. After I took a quick observance of my surroundings, I got ready to jump the fence when the gate to my right began to open. They knew I was here. They had learned how to hide their cameras better than they had in the past.

I entered the grounds, even more, hyperaware of the fact that they had eyes on me even though I didn't have my own on them than I was before. After I had walked about 15 feet I saw them, I saw him. I recognized him immediately which was surprising considering I couldn't remember much else. As soon as he spoke I knew this was the man who had posed as Jake.

"Charscovsky."

"Soldier."

"What an honor that you'd meet me at the entrance, " I attempted not to sneer. All he did was smile mischievously.

"Oh, come now, Soldier. You act as though we weren't close once."

"You and I have very different definitions of 'close' then."

The eerie smile never left his face. He turned on his heel and began to leisurely lead the way into the building. As he led me in I noticed just the faintest blur of red hair to my left before I entered and I was grateful in that moment that Natasha had refused to be left behind.

"(Y/n) has had such wonderful things to say about you."

"Take me to her."

"Oh, now, now, Soldier. You'll be reunited soon enough. First, we need to discuss a few things."

"We don't need to discuss anything except you telling me where (Y/n) is. Once she's out of here we'll discuss whatever you like."

"You see, that was a huge problem that we never did perfect with the soldier serum."

He waited for me to respond but I refused. He stopped at a door and turned to look at me.

"You're not curious, huh? I suppose I'll say it anyway. It'll be valuable information to you very soon."

He paused again waiting for a response but when he realized I wasn't going to, that smile he had held for the entirety of the time since our eyes had met, began to fade which almost brought one to my face.

"Whether you're curious or not, Soldier, what I'm referring to is the ability to negotiate. You see, we didn't think about that at the time. Elimination and defense were the prime qualities we wanted but now, looking back, I can see it is something we will need to work on in the future. I imagine you'll soon wish we would have too." He arrived at a door and stopped. Four guards stepped between us as he leaned down and pressed his face to a retinal recognition. I suppose they knew I would be tempted to attack and dissemble in order to get to her if he were left unprotected. I heard the door unlock before opening into darkness. My body tensed as I didn't know what this meant. He waved off the guards so that they walked behind us and he led the way into the dark.

I then heard two thumps on each side of me. I turned, fully alert, ready for a fight, but instead, I saw nothing but as the room lit, a dash of red flew past me and took down Charscovsky, pinning him to the floor.

"Oh," he smirked, "Ms. Romanoff, what a pleasant surprise."

"Where is she?" Natasha sneered.

"Oh yes, you have become fond of her too, haven't you?" Natasha pushed down against his throat more, so that he had to put more effort into continuing, "не волнуйся, ты скоро ее увидишь." He smiled again, mischief playing happily across his eyes. Natasha stood and jerked him up along with her. I stepped to him, toe-to-toe. "Where the hell is she?" I was now snarling. He smiled and remained silent a moment. He was clearly enjoying himself.

"Oh, зимняя принцесса," he said louder as if he was calling to someone else.

"What?" Natasha quickly questioned.

"No," I said, not wanting to believe what he was saying. Fear and anger took me over. My vision blurred. "No!" I exclaimed, pushing him into the wall to my left. My left hand grasped his throat, the metal plates of my arm shifting to strengthen my grip. All the while he smiled.

"Bucky, what is it? What's he saying?" Natasha asked, worry filling her tone. She didn't have to wait long to find out.