#i am genuinely lightheaded right now this is insane

[lifemod17]

HOZIER PERFORMING 'THE PARTING GLASS' IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 2024!!!!!

I am in LITERAL tears!!!!

Source: x.com

[wikiangela-fanfics]

Heartbeat

Ao3 here

This is dumb. I was listening to Enrique Iglesias and when I heard 'Hearbeat' I had this idea and decided to write it and, well, it sucks haha

Wasn't sure if I even wanna post this, but fuck it 🤷

It doesn't make any sense, I don't know what this is,

But enjoy, I guess hah 😅🖤

***

Bucky was a super soldier. That was common knowledge. And what it meant was having super strength, being super fast, having enhanced senses… like enhanced hearing. And look, by now he got used to it. He could just tune out certain sounds, or focus on that certain thing he wanted to hear. But there was one thing that he kept hearing, even though he didn’t try not to.

No matter how hard he tried to resist, his super hearing became really sensitive to Sam’s heartbeat. Which was crazy, and he didn’t exactly understand it. Just, whenever he was in a close vicinity with Sam, his ears were picking up on his heartbeat. In a short time he knew what even the smallest change meant.

What shocked him the most, was how it changed around Bucky.

How it would get a little quicker every time Bucky smiled at Sam - which he didn’t notice at the beginning, but he was observant.

How it would skip a beat whenever their hands accidentally touched, when they hugged, when there was any kind of physical contact, really.

After a while, Bucky even started noticing Sam’s heartbeat quicken when Bucky simply walked into the room where Sam was. And that’s because his super hearing started to pick up Sam even when they weren’t in the same room, somehow.

Honestly, the fact that he heard all that and physically couldn’t tune it out made him feel invasive and a little creepy, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. Again, he really tried not to do that.

Now, Bucky wasn’t stupid. He knew what it meant. He observed Sam and his behavior for a while after he started noticing this. He knew Sam’s heartbeat around others, while doing different activities, and he knew the difference. He knew how Sam felt about him.

And he felt the same way about Sam. His heart was doing all the same things as Sam’s. Plus, he kept thinking about him. He wanted to always be around him, though at the same time keep his distance, because hearing his heartbeat was intense and overwhelming, and hearing it on top of everything else was sometimes making his head hurt. He loved Sam’s smile, his stupid unfunny jokes that Bucky laughed at anyway, his movie references Bucky rarely got, but also how kind, good, and amazing he was. Bucky was just… so in love. He could list things he loved about Sam without end. He couldn’t imagine his life without Sam anymore, in whatever way he could have it, even if he tried.

But he didn’t want to ruin their friendship, especially at the beginning. And then with more and more time passing by, them becoming more comfortable with each other, becoming best friends, it became harder to both ignore the feelings, or gather courage to admit it. That’s when Bucky’s hearing started to hyper focus on Sam’s heartbeat and Bucky got the confirmation he needed - that Sam felt something for him too. Still, it was difficult. Because there was a possibility he was wrong.

With more and more time passing, he was getting more sure, but, to be honest, he was just scared. So he decided to keep ignoring those feelings, and wait until whatever was gonna happen between them happened - because he had no doubt it would eventually. For now, though, he decided to keep those feelings to himself. Until finally he couldn’t do it anymore.

***

They were in Delacroix, sitting at the docks, drinking beer, talking and just relaxing. Well, Sam was doing most of the talking, as usual. Bucky enjoyed listening to him talk, like he always did. But then Sam said something that made Bucky laugh, and suddenly Sam’s heart skipped a beat, reminding Bucky that, oh yeah, he could still hear it. Fuck, Sam was in love. And it made Bucky extremely happy, but constantly hearing it made him feel not only annoyed, but also just bad.

Still, he looked at Sam and saw him already looking at Bucky and smiling, and Bucky couldn’t not smile back. That’s when he heard Sam’s heartbeat quicken, just a little bit, but Bucky was really sensitive and attentive to every smallest change.

For some reason, that was the moment he couldn’t handle it anymore. His smile dropped and he quickly got up.

“What’s-” Sam started to ask, also slowly getting up, but Bucky interrupted him.

“I can’t, uh-” he exhaled heavily. “Sorry, I gotta go.”

“Go where?” Sam seemed confused. “Is something wrong?”

“Yeah, yeah there is.” Bucky ran his hand through his hair. “I can’t stop hearing- fuck.”

“Hearing what?” Sam tried to put his hand on Bucky’s shoulder, but Bucky moved away. “Buck, you’re starting to worry me.” yeah, Bucky got that. He heard his heart start beating like it did when he was concerned.

“I feel insane, you know?” Bucky chuckled. This was ridiculous. “It’s gonna sound insane, and really bad, but don’t judge me, I really don’t have control over it.”

“No judgement here. Ever. Cross my heart.”

“Okay.” Bucky took a deep breath. “For a while now, I haven’t been able to- to stop hearing your heartbeat.” he more mumbled the last part, but he was embarrassed having to admit it. “My hearing just focuses on it, and it’s always there, in the background, even when you’re in the next room.” he wasn’t looking at Sam as he was talking, not wanting to see his expression. “It’s the only thing I can’t tune out. And it’s driving me crazy. I can hear your reaction to literally everything, including-” he sighed. “Including me.”

“Oh.” Sam said. He tried for a calm tone, but Bucky knew he was nervous. “And you, uh, you don’t like how, um, I react to you?”

“What?” Bucky looked at him now. Sam seemed unsure. “That’s not it at all, Sam. That I’m happy about. I just, it’s overwhelming. And it makes me feel like I’m invading your privacy, which I am doing, but I really don’t mean to.” he hoped he sounded as genuine as he felt. “I’m sorry, I’ve been trying not to listen. It’s not happening with anyone else, I don’t know-” he exhaled loudly again. “It’s just frustrating. I’m so sorry.” he repeated.

“Bucky, it’s fine.” Sam rolled his eyes. “You could’ve just told me.”

“And then what?” Bucky scoffed. “We’d just stop hanging out because of it?”

“We’d find a way to fix this. There has to be a reason, right?” Sam tentatively reached out again, putting his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “We can deal with this.”

“And you’re not mad?” Bucky asked doubtfully.

“Dude, how many times can we go through this?” Sam asked incredulously. “I can’t be mad at something outside of your control, okay? Besides, it’s just my heartbeat. Why would it be a big deal to listen to it? It’s not my thoughts.”

“You can find out surprisingly a lot by just listening to someone’s heartbeat and observing what caused different reactions.” he pointed out.

“Oh, really? And what did you find out?” Sam grinned, his heart quickening, probably already knowing what Bucky was gonna say.

“That, um, apparently-” Bucky cleared his throat, gathering his courage to say it. Here goes nothing. “Apparently you feel about me the same way I feel about you. If I read that correctly.”

“Well, that’s not ambiguous at all.” Sam rolled his eyes again. Then he moved his hand from Bucky’s shoulder to his cheek. Bucky felt his own heart start pounding in his chest. “So, if I am reading this correctly, uh- you’d be okay with me kissing you?” Sam asked, his voice shaky, heart beating as fast as Bucky’s, slowly bringing his face closer to Bucky’s.

“God, yes.” Bucky exhaled, and that’s when Sam linked their lips. And at that moment, their heartbeats, beating in the same rhythm, were the only thing Bucky could hear. All that existed was just them. It was amazing, and beautiful, and so much more than Bucky could’ve imagined. It felt long and short at the same time, and Bucky felt so much, he felt as if his every enhanced sense was working at the highest possible setting, and it was one of the most insane experiences he’s had. When they pulled apart, he felt lightheaded, and almost drunk, if he remembered correctly what feeling drunk felt like.

“You know, maybe the reason you couldn’t tune out only my heartbeat,” Sam started, leaning his forehead against Bucky’s, “is that you stole my heart and it’s yours now.”

“That was so cheesy.” Bucky laughed, not able to stop himself.

“Fuck you.” Sam pushed him away playfully, also laughing. “I’m trying to tell you I love you, and you're making fun of me.”

“Could’ve found better words for it.” Bucky shrugged, a huge grin not disappearing from his face. “I love you too.” he added, his voice softer now.

“Now go fuck yourself.” Sam said, amusement clear in his voice, as he sat down. Bucky just laughed and sat down next to Sam. “I’m serious, I take it all back.” he tried to make his expression serious, but failed. He couldn’t contain a smile, but he was looking ahead, not turning towards Bucky.

“Sure you are.” Bucky rolled his eyes. “I can hear when you’re lying.”

“Shit. Maybe it is an invasion of privacy. Should I be mad about it?”

“Yeah.” Bucky immediately responded. “But please don’t. I wanna kiss you again, and I have a feeling it won’t happen if you’re mad at me.” he added, leaning into Sam and putting his chin on Sam’s shoulder, so that his nose was against Sam’s cheek. Sam chuckled.

“Fine.” he sighed theatrically, then turning his head towards Bucky, bumping their noses. “I guess I can make out with you a little. And we’ll deal with the whole eavesdropping on my heartbeat stuff later.”

“That’s fine by me.” Bucky responded, because despite it still being intense and overwhelming, he felt a little better knowing Sam wasn’t mad about it. And that he knew about it now. So it wasn’t like, well, eavesdropping.

Bucky kissed Sam again, forgetting about anything else but the man next to him. They’d deal with whatever they have to deal with later. For now, he was happy, finally getting to express his feelings to the man he loved - getting to make out with him was even better, because damn, Sam was a good kisser. And being this close to Sam, Bucky could not only hear his heartbeat, but feel it, too. Sam was overwhelming all his senses, but for once, Bucky wasn’t gonna complain.

[sweatpeeee]

Love potion AU

Part 1

Peter Parker x Reader

Words: 2k

Summary: Peter Parker, infatuated with an uninterested MJ, creates a liquid potion to have her fall in love with him, but what if the wrong person drinks it???

Warnings: lowkey angst, Peter is a desperate fool, Ned is a supportive friend and MJ is an absolute queen. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey Pete-” You blush, books clutched between your arms. 

“Hey.” You notice Peter glancing behind you constantly, barely acknowledging your greeting. A forced thin tight smile replaces your shy smile, but soon recovers when you see Ned beside you, you give him a grin, readjusting your backpack strap, 

“Hey Ned, new hat?” You chuckle lightly at the boy with a red fedora sitting on top of his hair. 

“Why Hello, m’Lady, and yes- I do have a new hat in the collection.” He beamed, you laugh at his response, 

“Well it looks great on you-” 

“Hey, have you guys seen MJ? I haven’t seen her enter the school yet-” Peter interrupted your conversation with Ned, His eyes scanning the hallways and the entrance doors. 

“Peter, give it a rest- MJ made it quite obvious that she’s not interested in a relationship right now-” Ned seemed tired of constantly lecturing his friend about his crush on the girl, but that didn’t seem to stop him from ogling her from afar.

“Yeah- I know Ned, but maybe I can convince her to-” Ned was quick to shut that down, 

“Absolutely not- Peter, do you realize how insane that sounds?!” It sounded like Ned was about to patronize the boy some more before you decided you heard enough and walk away, sad and in a way- feeling a bit rejected. Although you did nothing that would cause you to become rejected, you felt like Peter rejected your presence in general. It’s not anything new, it’s not like it’s the first time either. You fell for Peter when you first met him, the boy was an absolute sweetheart, you had no idea why every girl wasn’t head over heels like you were. The kindest and most genuine smile you’ve ever seen resting upon his face with adoring puppy brown eyes. With a heavy heart you went to your first period class 10 minutes early. 

Ned finished his lesson with his friend, Peter grumbling under his breath- Ned spun around in your direction just to find that you weren't there, even glancing around hoping you haven’t left… again. Again and again, every day- you always left early and Ned noticed, he also noticed when Peter didn’t. Dejected, Ned sighs loudly before glaring at his best friend, 

“Well, are you happy?” He huffs

Peter cocks his head to the side, brows furrow, clearly puzzled, “About…?” 

Ned was getting frustrated, “Oh, you know- the fact that you’ve technically been a horrible friend and blatantly ignored Y/n’s existence.” 

“Y/n was here?” Ned reached over and slapped the back of Peter’s head. 

“Ow! What the hell Ned!” Peter rubbed the back of his head realising a groan. 

“You deserve that, and more-” Ned then turned on his heels and walked to his first period as soon as the bell rang, a slightly disoriented Peter ran after him, his curls bouncing along with his small jog,

“What? Why? Ned!... Wait- god, Ned! What does that mean?!” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*y/n*

“God, I don’t even know what to do anymore! It’s like- It’s like I don’t even exist! Not even as friends! He couldn’t even look me in the eyes! I’m not that ugly… am I? Maybe-” You lay on your bed with your legs up against the wall while a bit of your head peeks off the side. 

“Alright let me stop you right there.” Michelle interjected, looking up from her book and placing her book mark before shutting it closed, “You are not ugly- don’t ever second guess that, plus the fact that you question your value because of some boy is just plain stupid, I mean like, women have been subjected to a society where our beauty and our worth is determined by men, and that’s honestly disgusting, like who the hell do they think they are-”

“MJ~” you grumble, plopping a pillow on your face.

“Right right, my bad- point is, you’re a bad bitch- and no boy should make you feel like you’re less, I mean this is Peter we’re talking about right?” MJ reaches and nudges the pillow away from your grasp, hitting the ground with a soft thud, you nod in agreement, 

“That’s the thing MJ, like I understand I’m not supposed to let a boy make me feel less but when I look at him, it’s like the whole room lights up,” your hands flailing above you, occasionally tangling your fingers through your h/c hair, “and he has the most beaming smile and it just melts my heart, and I just can't keep that ‘I don’t give a fuck what you say’ attitude with him.” A smile creeps on your face a tthe thought of the adorable boy with the brown locks and puppy dog eyes, “I just wanna tell him that he’s the sweetest and he makes my knees go weak and my heart swoons and wants to jump out of my chest at the sight of his beautiful fucking face.” you finish with a sigh, as if you’d been holding that in all day, and you kind of were. 

“First of all, give me a second to hold back the urge to projectile vomit all over your room-” 

You let out a chuckle as you cover your face with your hands, your ears burning in embarrassment, “MJ, stoooop” Your hand’s muffling your words

“No seriously, that was the cheesiest thing I've ever heard in my life- did you rehearse that?” She laughs. You don’t reply to her question. 

“Y/n, tell me you don’t rehearse that in the mirror-” She gasps with a smile

“I mean sometimes-” Before you can finish, Michelle is bursting with laughter, your laugh shortly joins along. 

You adored these moments with your best friend, and you appreciated how forward and comfortable she got with you after a bit in your friendship, you guys were such great friends, anyone could see it. Not a lot of people saw this side of Michelle, the funny, goofy, and loving person you know now. You could understand why Peter fell in love with her, I mean not only does she have a great personality, but she is absolutely stunning as well without even trying, wearing no makeup and a simple jogger and t-shirt and she could be on the cover of Vogue. 

Michelle’s laughter died down, wiping her tears that were at the edge of her eyes, coughing a bit from the force her lungs gave out, “god, who is this girl Peter is so ‘In Love’ with, as you put it, anyways?” 

Your laughter died down, clearing your throat a bit, you sat up, your legs crossed beneath you, “um, well- it’s kinda hard to explain-” your eyes drop to your fingers that tug on your cuticles, a habit you had if you were nervous or anxious, Michelle notices, “Stop picking at your fingers, you know that they’ll bleed,” you jerk your fingers away and instead start playing with the loose strings from your socks, “and what's complicated about Peters crush?”  her eyes squint as if she’s trying to get into your head. 

“Well, i-it’s not that it’s complicated- it’s just, i dunno… I- “ your eyes are on your shirt, your teeth nibbling on your lower lip. 

“Y/n, would you quit stalling and just tell me?” MJ stands up and sits on the bed, shifting to lay her head on your lap, you softly chuckle at her antics and lightly slap her forehead, “God bless that forehead” you giggle as Michelle groans. 

“So?” her finger reaches up and boops your nose. Dejected you sigh. 

Might as well tell the truth, lying will just get me into more shit anyways. Besides, MJ’s my best friend, she deserves the truth. 

“Liz.” god, you felt like a dumbass. 

“Liz?” MJ cringes 

Alright, now’s your chance to come clean-

“Yup! I know right.” Your voice definitely went up a couple octaves, your palms instantly clamming up. 

“Huh, I guess that makes sense-” She shrugs

“Y-yeah, I definitely think so too... “ 

Makes sense?? What is that supposed to mean?? 

“No you don’t, listen- don’t stress about it. Liz has nothing on you, “ MJ smirks up at you, sitting up and placing her hands on her shoulders making you face her, “ You are stunning y/n, like genuinely- I’m not saying this because you’re my best friend- because you know that i’m brutally honest 24/7, i’m saying this because it’s true.” Your ears burn pink and you cast your gaze to the side, “Hey, look at me- I mean it. You are so beautiful, no matter what- all those imperfections? All those flaws? They are beautiful and they are real. They prove that you aren’t a fake ass bitch who replaced everything with plastic surgery, it means that you have flaws and that you love your own flaws. Ok? And if Peter can’t see your beauty while accepting your imperfections, then he's absolutely not worth your time.” Hearing MJ talk so highly of you made your eyes brim with tears, MJ smiles in adoration. 

You let out a choked up laugh “Thanks MJ” you sniffle

“Of course, y/n. And remember what I said about boys?” 

“Boys aint shit” You burst into giggles

“That’s right queen, and don’t you forget it-” She stands up and holds your hands in hers, dragging you to your feet, “Now let’s go get pizza or something- I’m starving.” she begins pulling you towards the door, You laugh once again and follow her out. 

*Peter* 

“It’s honestly incredible how he just suddenly comes back to life, I mean what a plot twist-” Ned was ranting about the End of Skywalker, Peter couldn’t bring himself to care honestly so focused on finding a way to make the girl of his dreams fall for him. Was he looking it up? Yes. Every wikipedia article, witchy craft site, fuckboy sites, everything. 

“Peter, are you even listening to me?” Ned sighs and puts on the spiderman mask.

“Sounds fantastic, ned.” a mumble leaves Peters lips as his fingers mindlessly tap at the keyboard for more results to his search. 

“See, that response right there doesn’t make sense. I mean I asked a yes or no question and you replied with ‘fantastic’-” 

“Woah. no way” Peter once again mindlessly interrupted his friend. 

“Oh for the love of god, Peter! Give it a rest bro! This is deadass everyday, like all you talk about is having her fall for you! Besides all those sites won't help, to make MJ fall for you would take some magical miracle!” Ned burst, feeling lightheaded. 

Finally Peter stops his rapid typing and spins to look at Ned, eye’s wide and his jaw to the floor, “Ned! You absolute genius!” Peter shoots up from his seat, grasping his coat and wallet as well as his house keys. 

“I’m- what is going on-” Ned removes the mask, confusion written all over his face. 

“Magic, Ned! Magic! I’ll be right back, dude- Bye!” and with that Peter left in search of a magical wizard. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“No absolutely not.” Dr. Strange muttered as he read his book, probably a spiritual thing.

“Oh come on, Mr. Strange-” Peter pleaded, nearly pouting. 

“It’s Doctor Strange, and my answer is still no.” Dr. Strange stood up, his eyes glued to the book as he swirled his hands in a graceful motion to create a small table with more books and a glass of tea of which Dr. Strange takes a sip of before walking around some more. Peter right on his heels. 

“Look, all I’m asking is to have a small enchanting spell of some kind, or even a potion-” 

Finally Dr.Strange finally looks up from his book and turns towards the young spiderboy, “Peter, you do realize that you are asking me to enchant a human-” 

“Of course I know-” 

“No you don’t, you are tampering with the emotions of a human being. This could cause some real trauma to the one being enchanted. Are you aware of that?” Strange seemed to become frustrated with Peter’s persistence. 

“Well… I am now-” Peter’s gaze fell at his feet, fidgeting with his fingers, a habit he had when he was nervous, “Listen- I understand if you don’t want to help me, but all I want is some time. Just.. I dunno, a week- to prove that I can be the perfect boyfriend for her. I just want time to show her, and when the time runs out, if she’s still not interested, then I won’t insist. Please.” Peter’s soft brown eyes gazed up at the wizard, his pout showing itself. 

“Oh no… not the pout.” Dr.Strange groans, he rubs his eyes in frustration, inhaling deeply before muttering, “One week. No more than one week.” 

-----------------------------------------------------------------

And that concludes part one of my Love Potion AU series! thanks so much for reading- and i’m so sorry it took so long, like I said, I’m a HUGE procrastinator. Let me know if you’d like to be tagged or have any suggestions on how to improve my writing! Thanks Again and I hope you enjoy! 

@puremusicbeat-blog @halparkebitch @missmulti @everyoneyoulovedies @le-yona @universeoffandoms1 @writeroutoftime @bluelida

Ok just an FYI I tagged people who asked to be tagged AND people who voted on it, if you don’t want to be tagged, message me and I will remove you from the list! 

[smooshjames]

forget you not (iv)

you knock on my door and tell me you don’t wanna fight (or: inside jokes and invitations)

word count: 4.5k

a/n: part four of forget you not! this is the second to last part as it stands right now, but i am toying with the idea of writing an epilogue. i haven’t made up my mind on that front quite yet, it’ll probably depend on if there’s any demand for an epilogue once the parts i’ve got written are all finished up. anyway, the usual disclaimers: i didn’t write any of the songs mentioned, they all belong to little mix, this chapter’s songs are here and here (no new ones this time, but i figure i’ll link them anyway for the sake of easy access). here is a link to my ko-fi, which, as usual, is never an obligation. thank you for taking the time to read this, and i hope you enjoy!

warnings: more angst (surprising, right?), an author who is very bad at sketch comedy trying to write characters who are very good at sketch comedy

previous parts: one, two, three

With the red dot on the cameras blinking, you knew it was even more important now that you kept up that positive facade. You did your best to think about good things, hoping your smile wouldn’t look too forced.

To your right, Shayne launched into an energetic intro where he explained the rules of the game and introduced you guys as guests. Once he had given his little speech, he turned to you, though his eyes were fixed on the partition over your shoulder. Still, his smile didn’t waver for even a second. “So, are you guys ready to play?”

You nodded enthusiastically and laughed in easy agreement as you were elected to be the first person in the stool. You filled your mouth with water and flashed a thumbs-up, and out came Alexis. She used an inside joke, which was probably cheating, but it made you spit your water out anyway.

The game went on like this for a while, until finally, the only person yet to try to make you laugh was Shayne. You braced yourself as he asked if you were ready, humming an affirmative and doing your best to keep your breathing even.

He came out holding a red telephone, which he set on top of the bongos.

“Watch this,” he said, flashing you a shit-eating grin. For a second, you felt yourself tilting forward into that grin, into those eyes. Your heart jackhammered in your chest. It was the first genuine smile he’d given you all day, and God it was beautiful. “Hi, Dominos? You’re my favorite pizza place.”

You knitted your eyebrows in confusion.

“Watch this though,” he said. He mashed his finger against the phone buttons and lifted it again. “Hi, Pizza Hut? You’re my favorite pizza place.”

And then he nodded at you a little, smiling expectantly. When you didn’t laugh, he held up one finger. “Watch this though.”

With his free hand, he made a sort of waving motion in the direction of the partition, and out came Damien holding an identical red phone. He handed it to you and then went back to where all the props were. Shayne dialed his phone and made a little ringing sound effect for emphasis. You picked up your phone.

“Hi, Y/N?” he asked. You hummed something vaguely resembling “hello” into the receiver, figuring you might as well play along with the bit. In the same voice, with that same shit-eating grin, he said, “you’re my favorite singer.”

You weren’t sure why, maybe it was the strange vocal inflection or the mirth in his eyes as he said it, but sure enough, you sprayed water all over the soundstage. Shayne laughed gleefully as you did so, and the sound of it made you forget to breathe for just a second; you hadn’t heard that laugh in years. It made your chest ache to hear it again. In a sort of daze, you handed him your prop and he took it backstage.

Everyone came back out and you had to choose who made you laugh the hardest. You picked Damien, who had pranced out in an insanely tangled red wig with a stuffed flamingo in one hand, partially because he had made you laugh really hard and partially because you were trying to procrastinate Shayne's turn as much as possible.

Damien’s round passed quickly, and you managed to make him laugh after a few seconds. He chose Piper to go next, so she took her place on the stool. You went backstage with everyone else and started sifting through props to think of a bit.

And then Shayne fully took his shirt off.

You froze halfway through picking up a cowboy hat. You were pretty sure that anyone listening closely enough could’ve heard the gears in your brain grinding to a halt.

You wondered, if you started running now, how far into the ocean you could get before anyone noticed you were gone.

Carly nudged you with her elbow and asked you to help her with a bit, forcing you to turn away from Shayne, which was probably for the best. You took the opportunity to remind yourself that not only did he have a new girlfriend, but that the two of you didn’t work. You never had and you never would.

And before you knew it, Piper’s round was over, and Shayne was up next. You felt a bolt of panic. You knew you could make him laugh, but you weren’t sure how to go about doing it and you were rapidly running out of time to figure it out. Finally, you decided against every bit of logic you had. You decided to just go with an inside joke.

He probably wouldn’t remember it, anyway. It didn’t really matter. If you didn’t make him laugh it wasn’t the end of the world. At the end of that day, you were just here to promote the band. 

At least, this is what you told yourself as you stood behind the partition waiting for your turn. But your hands were trembling anyway.

Your turn came up. Alexis gave you a little high five on your way out. You walked up to Shayne’s right side and leaned in close to him, careful not to touch him. You looked at him through your eyelashes and shifted your weight from foot to foot. “Hey,” you said, voice low and sultry. Shayne’s brows knitted in confusion, and you feared for a moment that he had forgotten. You were probably only half-audible to the mics, but you didn’t care. You were focused single-mindedly on making Shayne laugh. “I was just wondering… do you like tacos?” You were careful to drag out the vowels on the word ‘tacos.’ You heard Damien start giggling behind the partition.

At least he remembered.

And then Shayne’s eyes widened and he surged forward as he tried to keep the water in. Your heart skipped a beat, though you couldn’t quite pin down why.

“Do you like tacos, Shayne? Do you?” you asked, leaning a little closer. You felt more confident now that you knew he remembered the joke. “Tell me how much you like tacos, Shayne.”

That did the trick. He sprayed water everywhere, shrieking with laughter as he did so.

Once the water was cleaned up, everyone else came back out from behind the partition and Shayne chose Alexis to go next.

After Alexis, it was Carly’s turn, and then you were all done. You had even finished a little bit ahead of schedule.

Ian came over once the cameras were cut, smiling brightly. “That was really good, you guys! Thanks so much for coming in today.”

“Thanks for having us!” Alexis said. “It was a ton of fun.”

You nodded in agreement but you were only half-listening. Shayne had somehow ended up right next to you during the outro of the video, and he hadn't made an effort to move away after the cameras stopped rolling. He was close to you, maybe a little closer than necessary, and that fact was all you could focus on.

As you were listening to Ian talk about when the video would be released, you felt Shayne wrap his hand around your forearm, squeezing lightly to get your attention. That one simple touch set your entire right side on fire. You felt like he’d lit off a fireworks display under your skin. You turned to face him, and you couldn’t help noticing that he looked more than a little bit like a kicked puppy.

“Can we talk?” he asked. His voice was soft, a stark contrast to how loud he’d been just minutes before as you were filming the video outro. “Just for a few minutes, please?”

At these questions, a knot of mixed emotion -- fear, anger, a little misguided hope -- gathered in a knot at the base of your spine and squeezed so hard you went lightheaded with it.

You glanced around for Michelle, who was watching you like a hawk. You tilted your head toward Shayne and shrugged. She nodded.

“Okay,” you replied. In all honesty, you weren’t sure why you said yes. You didn’t know what he could possibly have to say to you. Your mind raced with all the worst-case scenarios; that he would rub his new girlfriend in your face, that he would say something mean or insulting, that he would tear down what little you had managed to build yourself up. You wrestled those ideas into submission, though. Shayne had made his mistakes, but he had never been intentionally cruel.

He led you back through the office until he found an empty conference room. You closed the door behind you as you entered.

“What’s up?” you asked. You cringed as it was coming out of your mouth. Really? What’s up?

Now that you were alone, some of his forced Funny Man bravado seemed to crumble away. His shoulders slumped and the shine went out of his eyes, and the look he gave you was sad, exhausted.

You felt like the earth was rotating the wrong way, like God had vacuum sealed the room shut, like Saturn was crashing into Jupiter and imploding on impact.

“I, um…” he mumbled. He shoved his hands into his pockets and chuckled nervously. For a moment, you were reminded of the first time he’d asked you out. You’d both been so young then, and he had been all nerves and goofy smiles. You knew even from that first conversation that you were a goner. “I should’ve planned out what I was gonna say, huh? I had all weekend to think about it.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” you said. “This weekend has been… a series of really fucking weird, awful coincidences. You don’t have to, like, apologize. We’ll just chalk it up to being a series of unfortunate events.”

His brow furrowed and his head tilted slightly, which really intensified the whole kicked puppy vibe he had going. Your heart ached, and there was a moment where the muscles in your legs twitched, where your body tried to move itself over to him without your brain’s consent.

You stayed rooted to your place.

“What?” he asked, voice small, barely even audible over the hum of the air conditioning.

You shrugged. “It’s okay, Shayne. I’m not, like, upset that you moved on --”

Bold-faced lie number one.

“Wait,” he said, but you couldn’t hear him over the blood roaring through your ears.

“-- and Courtney seems really nice, so I’m happy that you’re happy --”

Bold-faced lie number two.

“No, just --” he tried to interrupt you again, but you kept going.

“-- and I’m sorry that we had to see each other again in this context, it’s been… really fucking weird. But that doesn’t mean you need to try to make it better, okay? Don’t worry about me.”

Bold-faced lie number three.

Before you could conjure up more ways to end the conversation and escape the room, Shayne took a halting step forward.

“Courtney and I aren’t dating,” he said. Your mouth snapped shut as your brain slammed on the brakes. “We’re just friends. I went to the concert with her because the person she was supposed to go with canceled last minute and she couldn’t find anybody else.”

Oh.

“And I’m sorry we had to see each other again in this context, too, but not because I want to patronize you by telling you that I’m sorry things didn’t work out. I mean I am sorry things didn’t work out, but not in like a My Life Is Better Now, Sorry About That kinda way --” he stopped, faltering, obviously unsure of how to put his thoughts into words.

Oh.

“I mean, if anything, you’re the one who’s better now; --” wait, what? “-- you’re successful, doing what you love, surrounded by your friends, and you’ve clearly moved on. --” wait, what? “-- But I just wanted to talk to you because… I don’t really know why, honestly. Because a part of me is still twenty-one and in love with you, I guess.”

So that was what it was like to have every organ in your body simultaneously crushed under a hydraulic press. Interesting.

You couldn’t think of anything poetic to say, so you settled for what seemed the most pressing. “You think I cried on stage singing Towers, a song I wrote about you, because I’m over you? You think I’m the one who’s moved on?”

He shrugged meekly. “I don’t know. That was just one song. You sang a hell of a lot of other songs about how you don’t need a man, about how your life is great. And those aren’t bad things! They were really good songs, but I just assumed --”

“Carly and Alexis wrote all those songs,” you said flatly. He fell silent. “I just sing them.”

There was a moment of silence that seemed to last an eternity, and then there was a knock on the door. “Come in,” Shayne said, his eyes still locked on yours.

A tall brunet man with a thick beard opened the door and stuck his head inside. “Hey,” he said. “There’s a meeting in here in five minutes.” And then he looked between the two of you, and his eyes narrowed. You figured the tension in the room was so palpable, even a stranger could pick up on it. “Everything okay, Shayne?”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Shayne replied. “We’ll be out of here in a minute. Sorry, Matt.”

“No problem,” the man, Matt, said. He nodded at you in acknowledgment, seeming more than a little confused at your presence. The door closed softly as he left.

“It’s probably for the best,” you said. “Michelle will have a coronary if I’m gone for too long. Places to be, people to see, insanely specific and personal questions to answer.”

He laughed a little bit, nodding, and for a moment the heavy awkwardness that had settled in the room seemed to lift just slightly. “Is your number still the same?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you replied. “Why?”

“I’ll text you my new address. Um, if you can, if you want to, it would probably be good for you to come over tonight to talk a little more. I can order some dinner for us. Only if you want to. I just don’t think… I don’t want to leave things this way.”

A sudden bolt of anger streaked through you, fiery hot. You clenched your jaw. He didn’t want to leave things this way? He had no qualms with leaving things this way when he’d let your entire relationship go down the drain all those years ago. And now he just got to waltz back in and invite you over for dinner and pretend he didn’t cause you the worst heartbreak you’d ever felt? After you had finally gotten yourself close to okay again, he got to come back in and ruin everything, knock you right back down to where you started? That wasn’t fucking fair.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to,” you said, and it wasn’t a lie. You still had one more interview after leaving the Smosh offices. You’d be completely worn out by the time that was done, especially on top of the exhaustion from the emotional rollercoaster that you’d boarded against your will.

“I’ll send the address anyway,” Shayne said. “Don’t feel pressured to come. If you don’t, I completely get it. You can delete the text and block my number if you want. I swear that after this I’ll never bother you again. But just in case.”

“Okay,” you replied. You really didn’t want to argue with him. You just wanted to track down Michelle and the band and go on your way to the next interview and try to forget about everything that had happened in the last three days. “Fine.”

He nodded and pulled out his phone, and after a moment you felt your own vibrate in your back pocket. You wondered briefly if he had your number memorized, which would have been kind of weird, or if he’d just never deleted your contact information. The notion that the latter might be true made your heart skip a beat.

Once he had repocketed his phone, he looked up at you. There was a moment of lingering silence where it was clear that neither of you knew what to say.

Finally, you lifted your hand in farewell. “It’s been, um… it was good to see you again, Shayne.” Bold-faced lie number four. “Bye.”

“Bye, Y/N,” he said.

Doing your best to ignore the tightness in his voice, you walked past him out of the room and scurried off to meet up with the band. You found them talking to Courtney, Damien, and another girl that you didn’t recognize. She was about Courtney’s height, Chinese, with brown hair and eyes.

“Ready to go, Y/N?” Piper asked.

“I think so,” you said. You turned to Damien and nodded your head over your shoulder. “Got a minute for goodbye?”

He nodded and the two of you retreated away from the rest of the group, not leaving their view but definitely out of earshot. “I’m sorry I couldn’t warn you,” he said.

“It’s okay, Damien, really,” you replied. You reached out to squeeze his arm reassuringly. “This weekend was wild for everybody involved. At least we got to see each other again, right? This has been really nice.”

He grinned and pulled you into another bear hug. “Yeah, it has been,” he said, and you felt it as a rumble in his chest more than you actually heard it. When you parted, he left one hand lingering on your arm and squeezed lightly before it dropped to his side. “Call sometime, okay? I’ve missed you.”

“Will do, Dames.” You glanced over your shoulder and saw Michelle looking at you expectantly. She tapped her wristwatch. You sighed. “I gotta run. I’ll see you around.”

He nodded and said a final goodbye before you turned to make your way back to the band. You noted on your way that Shayne had returned from the conference room. He was talking to Courtney and the brunette now.

You ignored the feeling of his eyes on you as you walked out of the offices and into the LA sunlight beyond.

***

Shayne came back from the conference room a few seconds after you did. He did his best not to watch you and Damien saying goodbye, did his best to push down the surge of jealousy as you hugged him. You were smiling up at him and it seemed easy, carefree. It was like you’d just seen each other yesterday. He wished he could be like that with you, even though he knew why he couldn’t. He was doomed to sad smiles and airless rooms and awkward tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.

If time travel was real, he’d go back to that final night with you and kick his own ass.

Damien’s hand on his shoulder startled him out of his self-loathing. He turned to face his best friend and didn’t bother concealing the hurt on his face; Damien would see right past it even if he tried.

“You okay?” Damien asked. Shayne let out a strangled laugh. Of course he wasn’t okay.

“I feel like somebody tried to wring all the water out of my body,” he replied.

“What’s up with you today?” Courtney asked, and Shayne startled. He’d sort of forgotten she was there.

Shayne sighed. He figured he might as well tell her; she’d probably find out at some point anyway. That or she’d piece it together herself.

“Y/N and I used to be a couple, way back when,” he said. Courtney’s eyes went almost comically wide. “And it… didn’t end very well. Seeing each other again has been really fucking weird for both of us.”

“That’s why she cried when she sang Towers,” Courtney said, more to herself than to anyone in the room. She looked at Damien. “Is that why you know her? ‘Cause of her and Shayne?”

Damien shook his head. “Me and her were friends first. I introduced them.”

Courtney nodded slowly, obviously trying to process this new information. “Oh,” she said. Shayne couldn’t tell where her brain was (he rarely could). If he had to guess, he’d say she was probably combing over her every memory of the past weekend and looking for any indications of the history between you and Shayne. Sure enough, she continued after a moment: “that’s why she looked so constipated when we were at the photo op, and why you ‘needed some air’ halfway through the concert, and why you got all weird when I put my arm around your shoulders before, and why you disappeared after --” she stopped, her brows furrowing for a moment and then raising suddenly. She smirked. “Where’d you go after you finished filming, Shayne? You both came back pretty much at the same time.”

“Courtney --” Shayne said, voice scolding, trying to get her to stop whatever hellish train of thought she was getting onto.

“You’re still in love with her, huh?” Olivia said. She’d been silent for most of the conversation, but she was looking at him like she could see into his soul. Shayne froze. Was he that fucking obvious?

“Still in love with who?” Ian’s voice to his left startled him.

Courtney and Olivia stopped talking now, which Shayne was grateful for. They at least had the decency to let Shayne tell Ian on his own. Everyone looked from Ian to Shayne and back.

“Uh --” Shayne said. “I, um…”

“Is this about whatever weird shit is between you and the girl from the band?” Ian asked. Shayne threw his hands in the air, frustrated. Did the whole world know? Was he that easy to read?

“How did you…?”

“I’ve known you for almost five years, Shayne,” Ian replied. “You looked like you wanted to die during that entire shoot. There were a couple of moments it was so bad that I almost asked Courtney to come in and take your place. But the crew people said it didn’t come through on camera, so I just chalked it up to the fact that I know you so well. You also left with her right after we were done filming. Putting two and two together here doesn’t exactly take a rocket scientist.”

Shayne sighed and ran a frustrated hand through his hair, which made it look even more insane than it usually did. “We dated years ago. The way it ended was my fault. I shouldn’t have broken up with her. I shouldn’t have let her go. She was… she is one of the most amazing women I’ve ever met. This weekend has rubbed everything I did wrong right into my face.”

“Is that it, then?” Courtney asked. “She walks out of here and you let her? After the universe, fate, whatever you wanna call it put in all the effort to bring you together again… you let her go? You repeat your biggest mistake?”

Shayne had to force down an anguished sound at that. He knew Courtney was trying to get him to chase after you, but in reality, she was probably right. You wouldn’t want to come to his apartment to talk things out. You wouldn’t want to see him after everything. You wouldn’t forgive him. And he didn’t deserve your forgiveness, anyway. You were absolutely right to ignore the invitation.

“I asked if she would come over,” he said. He was trying to be hopeful. But he’d seen the way your eyes narrowed when he invited you to his place. Your jaw had dropped and then tightened in that way it did when you were torn between anger and disbelief. “If she does, maybe we can talk things out. But it’s been years. I don’t know if she’ll… I don’t know, you guys.”

He was breathing, that much he knew, but he was sort of starting to wonder if someone had poked a hole in his trachea because he was pretty sure the air wasn’t making it to his lungs. He looked around at his friends, all staring at him like he should know the answer, like he should be able to just whip a magical solution out of his ass and call it a day, a happy ending with a neat little bow.

“I’m gonna take a walk,” he said, a little louder than necessary, because the room was suddenly way too fucking small. Before anyone could object, he walked quickly away from the group and down the hall until he found an empty soundstage. He slumped against the wall and slid down onto the ground. The events of the last three days were piling onto his shoulders like bricks. Memories of you were branded onto his brain and he couldn’t stop replaying them, a highlight reel of what he’d had and what he’d lost. You, years ago, laughing and looking at him like he was the only person in the room. You, years ago, standing in the living room, looking at him like he’d just driven a knife through your heart.

In an instant, he felt like Atlas, holding the weight of his own mistakes. Holding memories both good and bad; your first date, your first kiss, your first fight. You had said ‘I love you’ first because he wasn't brave enough, and you’d looked terrified as you did it, like you were afraid he’d laugh at you and push you away. You’d always looked half-scared, he realized; scared of rejection and pain and heartbreak. And he’d gone and thrown those fears right back in your face.

It took about three seconds for Shayne to collapse in on himself. He barely made it to the couch before his knees gave out on him. He stared up at the ceiling for a long while, desperately trying to process whatever the hell had just happened.

You were gone, and the apartment felt empty without you. It was a new type of loneliness, one he’d never experienced before. He felt a little like his chest was caving in and little like he was astral projecting, like he wasn’t quite contained within the walls of his body. He reached for his phone and sent you a barely-coherent text, apologizing and asking you to come home. And then he texted Damien and asked if he was home. He needed someone’s company.

He stared up at his ceiling while he awaited a response, considering all the things that had led him to this newest, most monumental fuck-up. Suddenly, the time he’d forgotten your birthday made him look like Boyfriend of the Year.

And then he reached into his pocket and he produced the little blue box he’d gotten just yesterday, and he opened it and looked at the ring inside. Not too flashy -- he didn’t have the money for any big diamonds, and you’d once joked that you didn’t want your engagement ring to weigh five tons. He smiled at the memory and traced his finger over the small diamond at the center of the ring.

God, what the fuck had he just done?

Shayne’s head thumped against the wall behind him, and he cried.

[kinglazrus]

The Haunting of Danny Fenton

Chapter Two: Unusual Clients

Word count: 2403 | [ffn] [ao3] | [previous] [next]

Tucker guides Valerie to a viewing gallery that overlooks the floor two storeys below. The door clunks and hisses as it closes behind them, sealed tight. Glass encases the gallery. The windows are angled outward so you can peer down without sticking your cheek to the glass. There's a slight distortion to it. Not much, but enough that Valerie knows the windows are thick and strong, built to take damage.

Tucker beckons her over to a door in the gallery's short wall, holding it open for her. It leads out onto an open balcony with a bulky safety rail along the edge, curving along the wall, only to dip into a set of stairs that winds all the way down to the bottom floor.

A loud bang startles Valerie. Instinctively, she lashes out, the dark bracer on her wrist expanding into an armoured glove. A compact gun pops out of the top, a bright red light building inside the barrel as it whines.

Tucker holds up his hands. "Whoa. A little jumpy, aren't you?"

Valerie huffs, masking her embarrassment with annoyance, and lowers her arm. The glove retracts, slithering over her arm, condensing back into a bracer. "I need to have good reaction times in my line of work."

"You and everyone else in Amity Park." Tucker leans over the balcony rail and calls out, "You all good down there?"

"Just dandy, kiddo! Thanks for asking!" Valerie immediately recognizes Jack Fenton's booming voice. He is, by far, the most vocal of all the Fentons.

"Let's go. I want to see what blew up."

As they walk down the stairs, Valerie scans the bottom floor. Two figures occupy the middle of the room: Jack Fenton, wearing a bright orange jumpsuit as neon as the sign outside, and Maddie Fenton, who boasts a much subtler, more pleasing blue. Along with their jumpsuits, they wear protective goggles, gloves, and boots. A smoking crater stretches between them.

Maddie pushes her goggles up and sighs in dismay. "Looks like another no good batch, honey."

"Damn. I'll pack it away with the others." Jack bends down to an open metal case at his feet. Nine glowing green vials rest inside, embedded in protective foam padding. The tenth slot is empty. Jack closes the case and tromps over to a rack against the wall, sliding it into an empty space next to dozens of identical cases.

When Tucker and Valerie reach the ground floor, the first thing she notices is a wide metal door tucked underneath the stairs, lurking in the corner of her eye. "Why did we take an elevator up and stairs down when there's a door right there?" Valerie glares at Tucker.

"Safety procedures. If the Boom Room is occupied, you have to enter through the top door," Tucker explains.

"Boom Room?" Valerie asks. The receptionist, Octavia, called the room the same thing.

"It's where we test our more volatile inventions." Maddie drags down her hood, shaking out her short auburn hair, and smiles at Valerie. "You must be the Red Huntress. I'm Maddie Fenton, but Maddie is fine." She holds out her hand.

Valerie takes it, giving it a firm squeeze and a shake. "You can just call me Valerie. Why do you test in here?"

"Well, it's not called the Boom Room for nothing!" Jack bounds over. Without even shaking Valerie's hand, or introducing himself first, he grabs her shoulder and turns her bodily toward the heavy doors. "All doors into the room are blast resistant. We only have these babies down here for hauling in the big buns, or when we're testing out ecto-powered engines. Can't exactly fit those through that tiny thing up there." Jack jerks his thumb over his shoulder, pointing back up the stairs. "But that's not the only thing! You see, when we built this place, we–"

"Jack, dear. Could you start the unlocking procedure? I think we've done enough testing for today," Maddie interrupts, gently touching Jack's shoulder.

"You got it, Mads!" He scampers toward the doors without a second thought. Valerie watched him go, her eyebrows knitting together as she puzzled over the sudden dismissal.

"Good call, Mrs. F," Tucker, hovering at Valerie's shoulder, says. "I don't want to miss dinner again. It's pot roast tonight." That only makes Valerie more confused.

"Sorry about that, dear. If you let Jack get going, he won't stop lecturing for anything." Maddie smiles softly. "As much as I love hearing my husband talk, I know not all people do."

"Oh, uh. No, it's fine. I actually am curious about the room." Valerie gives the metal panels stretching twenty feet up the wall a pointed look.

Valerie's statement ignites and eager glean in Maddie's gaze. "Oh! Isn't that just fantastic? In that case," she points over Valerie's shoulder, "do you see those vents on the wall behind you?"

Valerie turns and looks up. The first three vents rest inches above the metal panels. From there to the ceiling, a new row of vents digs into the wall at five-foot intervals, all the way to the top.

"Everything below those first vents is blast-proof, even the stairs. It keeps the rest of the building safe. To prevent the other walls from blowing out, those vents lead directly outside, into a courtyard in the middle of the facility. Up there," Maddie points to the ceiling, which is a wide skylight, "the windows can be opened using a control pad by the door. If a big enough explosion goes off, it gets directed up and out rather than through the rest of the building."

Valerie is impressed. Very impressed. She also thinks the Fentons are insane. "What are you making that could cause that big of an explosion?"

"Nothing, usually." Maddie's charming smile feels very out of place in this situation. "But right now we're working on an ectoplasm based strength enhancer."

Valerie wrinkles her nose. "You want to make ghosts stronger?"

Maddie laughs. "Don't be silly! This is for humans. We're just having trouble making a batch that won't explode when agitated." She gestures to the rack of briefcases. "There's no way to safely dispose of them, yet, so we keep it all here for now."

Thinking about it all, Valerie feels lightheaded. They're in the middle of the city. If all those cases explode at once, it will blow up half the block. Suddenly, she isn't so eager to explore Fenton Works anymore. In fact, she would like very much to leave the building now, thank you. But Jack's not finished with the doors. With few other options, Valerie pushes on

"You want to make... some kind of super-soldier serum?" she asks.

"Oh, dear, no. It's not for anything like that." Valerie waits for Maddie to elaborate, but all she gets is that same pleasant smile. It's sweet. Too sweet for how much pain she sees in Maddie's eyes. Valerie wants to ask more about the project, but that severe smile beats her curiosity back.

A loud siren rips through the room, one long shriek, accompanied by a flash of red light. Startled, Valerie whirls around, although she manages to keep her weapons at bay this time. At the doors, Jack has his hand on a biometric scanner. Something within the door clunks, the sound followed by a low hiss.

Valerie shuffles her feet as the door swings wide, edging away from Maddie and closer to Tucker. Nudging him, she grabs his attention and subtly tilts her head toward Maddie.

"It's a sore spot," Tucker whispers under his breath.

Valerie nods.

"I think it's about time we head home. Danny should be waiting for us, and I'm sure you want to know the details of the job," Maddie says.

Valerie nods again, too nervous to say anything. The Fentons aren't like any client she's had before. She's used to her richer clients being stuffy snobs, spoiled kids who heard something go bump in the night and got spooked. Sometimes there are genuine concerns. Malevolent ghosts that won't leave them alone. Lost souls lingering in places they shouldn’t be. It's always a humbling experience for her clients. Ghosts don't care how much money you have; they do whatever they want. And if Valerie wasn't there to save their asses, well... they're lucky she's there.

But the most glaring difference between the Fentons and any past jobs is skill. The Fentons are ghost hunters by trade. They dedicate themselves to outfitting people with personal ghost protection, be it basic defences or actual weaponry. They make guns and vehicles. They teach classes about ghosts. They're at the forefront of Ghost Zone exploration. Anything Valerie can do, the Fentons already do better.

Which is why she doesn't understand what they need her for. Surely whatever is going on with their son, they can protect him far better than she can.

—

Sitting in the living room of the original Fenton Works building, Valerie marvels at how homey it is. For fifteen years, this place housed what is now a world-famous company. Not even the whole building, but the basement. The rest of it looks like any other house—which makes sense because it is their house. But knowing that scientific history was made in the room below her feet makes Valerie giddy.

She bounces her knee and resists the urge to get up and pace. Right now, more than anything, she wants to go downstairs and see the original lab. Science had never been her forte in high school, and she barely understands that side of ghost hunting, but it fascinates her to no end.

A loud creak down the hall has her head snapping up. She starts to rise, then sits back down, driving her fist into her knee to keep her leg still. She wants to look professional and courteous, although by this point that image is already ruined. Tucker shattered all formal pretenses when he picked her up. Still, Valerie wants to try. So she sits up straight, setting her shoulders and raising her chin, and watches the corner expectantly.

Maddie and Jack step into view, but only them.

"Danny will be along in a moment. Things have been rough for him, recently," Maddie explains. She and Jack move to the opposite side of the room, stopping on either side of a comfortable looking armchair.

"While we're waiting for him, can I ask what exactly the job is? Your request was vague." Not just vague, it had been devoid of all useful information. Two days ago, Valerie got a call inquiring about her services, how much she charges, and how long she would be available. The voice on the other end hadn't been Maddie's or Jack's. Now that she thinks about it, it was probably Octavia calling on their behalf.

"For a few months now, Danny has been experiencing a minor haunting," Maddie states bluntly.

Valerie's blood runs cold. "A haunting?"

Jack nods, his expression grave.

"For months?" Valerie continues. "But that's..." Completely unprecedented. The longest haunting on record is thirty-four days. In Valerie's two years of official work, and her four years of unofficial experience before that, she only witnessed two hauntings. The first victim lasted a week before they were possessed. The second barely lasted a day.

"We've got good defences here, but they're designed for more tangible ghosts," Maddie says, an ironic twist in her grim smile. "Haunting Shades are much harder to keep out."

"And you can't drive it off?" Valerie asks. "You of all people should be able to. If you can just find the Shade the next time it visits–"

Jack silences her with a cold look. "You think we haven't tried that?"

Right. World famous-ghost hunters. Anything she can do, they have already done better. She's confident in her skills, worked hard to get where she is today, and, from time to time, deserves a little of the arrogance she feels. Sometimes, however, that means she forgets some people have worked much harder and gone much farther than her.

Maddie and Jack Fenton are two of those people

"Sorry," Valerie says quietly. Who is she, who has never been able to fight off a Shade before, to shame the Fentons for the same fault?

"No need to apologize. We've all got our moments." Jack beams. Valerie almost has whiplash from the complete three-sixty in personality. "This Shade's a slippery one. Even when it's here, we can't find it."

Maddie takes over for her husband. "We've got people working on that. Before Danny's haunting started, we were already working on a new ghost deterrent aimed at Shades. A business partner of ours has been heading the project. That's why we need you."

"For what, exactly?" Valerie asks.

"There's a week-long conference Jack and I need to attend. If all goes well, we could make a breakthrough in the anti-Shade project. But we can't bring Danny with us. Long trips aggravate his condition."

Valerie barely resists the urge to ask about said condition. She will see his condition for herself in a few minutes, but she can't help it. Danny doesn't photograph well, and the few pictures of him post-accident reveal very little about his person. The same morbid curiosity that grabs hold of you when you see the aftermath of disaster takes her now. She's not proud of it, but she feels it, nonetheless.

"We want you here as insurance. We don't think anything will happen, but we'd rather not leave Danny alone with everything that's going on," Maddie finishes.

Distantly, the stairs creak.

Valerie nods slowly. "Okay. I understand. I'll take the job."

"It'll be like a vacation for you! Our Danny's a lot stronger than some ghost. He's putting up a hell of a fight." Jack punches the air. There's a familiar glint in his eye, the same look Valerie gets from her father whenever he talks about how far she's come. Seeing it makes her smile.

"What does Danny–" Someone clears their throat, interrupting Valerie. Her head snaps toward the noise, her eyes finding the newcomer immediately. Pallid skin, sunken eyes, slouched against Tucker, Danny Fenton stares back at her.

"Hey. Valerie, right?" His voice is faint and hoarse.

Doubt pools in Valerie's gut. The smile vanishes from her face. Whatever confidence Jack has in his son, she doesn't share it. Forget surviving the week, she doesn't think he'll live through the night.

[ciphermythoughts]

nemesis | 31st of March, 2021

to anyone who dares to read these things going on inside my mind,

              I wrote this because I cannot contain myself again— in a cage which I created to neglect and abandon what I feel most of the time but finally, it’s the edge of my life where I question everything and have doubts on anything. Everything feels so heavy for my heart to carry, it’s all a burden inside of me that I do not know for how much longer I can suffer and hold it in. I feel like crying most of the time. I am so afraid— afraid of many things that I cannot fathom out what it is anymore. I can barely breathe. If I am going to be honest with myself, I feel so numb, but everything hurts me so fucking much at the same time. I can’t breathe. I feel like I held myself so much to the point that I do not know a mere thing about me, I do not know myself anymore, but I know that I am craving so much for affection, for love, to feel genuine again. I always dodge what I feel and oftentimes keep it to myself. There would be moments like this when I explode and burst with emotions I carried long enough. I feel so alone even with myself. I want to feel good about myself. I want to be enough for myself. I am so tired of feeling this way. I feel so exhausted; emotionally, mentally, and physically. If I don’t have to be strong for other people, for myself, I would falter and break any moment. I can’t breathe, I feel like I’m stuck with myself. I can’t breathe. It hurts so much. As I gasp for some oxygen, my body freezes. I tried to suppress myself so much that I feel like I became numb— I start to realize that I want to feel, I need to feel something... genuine.

            I am so tired of this thing. I am so tired of sleepless nights. I am so tired of thinking. I am so tired of pretending that I do not feel a thing. If only I could love myself that easily, I would do it. I cannot even look at my reflection most of the time. I oftentimes have the urge to scratch my skin because I feel that it screams at me whenever I feel this way. I am so tired of isolating myself but as much as I am with people, it drains me so much. I hate me for being this way. I hate myself so much, I loathe myself so much. It hurts so fucking much. I hate myself for sticking with people that would abandon me at any time they like, for being afraid that people will leave me whenever I am no longer convenient to them, I am so afraid of becoming a trash to people to the point that I became a trash to myself. I want to be proud of myself again. I want to learn something new. I want to experience something new. I want to live a life where I would love to live in it. I don’t want to live in stagnation. I am so afraid. I am so afraid of myself. I am so afraid of the things that I want for myself. I am living my life paradoxically. I am so afraid that I will be stuck in things that I do not love in the future. I am so afraid of being in the wrong path, I am so afraid of making mistakes, I am so afraid of everything. I feel like I have to be ”perfect” at all times because if not, I feel like people wouldn’t love me. I feel like if I don’t have any, they would leave me at any moment. I feel like they will abandon me. I am so afraid of people leaving my life and I hate myself for being that way, for feeling those things so I suppress them all.

            I often question myself why is it I that have to change myself all the fucking time? Why is it I that would adjust for anyone so that the situation would be convenient to them? Why is it I would make myself feel like a trash just for other people? Why is it I can’t make a way for myself? Is it how I supposed to live my life? Is it the purpose why I live my life? I wish that people will be genuine at least most of the time. I long for a genuine connection, a real connection. People hurt me so much that sometimes I would have a grudge against them for making me feel this way. Oftentimes, people would manage to play a trick on me, and it goes so well that I start to allow myself to be lost in a maze where I don’t know my way back and whichever path I will take to finish what I’ve started. I am so stuck in a whorl where I would let myself suffer, just to feel something, just to feel the “happiness” that I know and knew, just to feel what I think I deserve. I always feel like people would forget me easily. I always feel like anyone can replace me. Let me be honest with you, it hurts me so much that I am so angry at myself for letting people do this to me, for letting myself to beat my own goddamn self up for the things I do not and cannot control at all. I am so angry at myself for taking the responsibility, for making me think that there’s no one to blame but myself. I hate people who take advantage of others and because of that, I became so scared. I became so scared of letting people in and out of my life, I am so scared of getting attached to them, I am so scared of people leaving. I am so scared of myself. I am so scared of being so sure and certain of people while they are not. I am so scared of losing things and people. I allowed myself to build a wall around me continuously because I am so fucking scared. I am afraid of becoming unsure of something or someone to the point that I became one. I subtly think that I often shut people out even though I always want to keep them in my life.

            I am so tired of feeling disappointed. I am so tired of expecting so much that people will be genuine at all times or wouldn’t change over time. I am so tired of them. I am so tired of people, taking so much of me. I am so tired of holding myself up to my expectations so that, I would be useful to anyone or somebody. I am so tired of finding something good inside of a person who has hurt me in a way that I could not even imagine nor express. I hate people because I love them. I hate myself because I can’t love my own existence. I will admit this once and for all, I can feel so much anger inside of my heart. I can feel so much loneliness, I can feel so much going on within me. I am so confused. I am so angry. I am so sad. I feel so scared— I am afraid. I feel so doubtful at myself. Do I really give people the love that I am describing here? Did I? Do I really have the rights to ask for a reciprocation of this feeling? Am I in the right place to demand and ask for something? Is it I who push them to leave me, to abandon me? Is it I, the reason to all of these things? It drives me so fucking insane.

            I’ve lived in a solitude to the point that I think my own self left me too. Still, I do not know what I lost, I do not know when I lost it or if I ever lost a part of myself that I tend to look for it in someone else’s or in a thing that will keep me sane— I barely feel alive. I want to experience and to know the feeling of having something or someone to fight for again because in my head, I know how much I am capable of, but I can’t do it. I cannot do it again. It is so hard to fight with my brain. It is so difficult to have a war inside of my skull, a never-ending battle that I do not know what things I could do to win.

            I am so tired of feeling so small. I am so tired of feeling like a crumpled paper that has been abandoned, just silently sitting on the corner of a dark room. All I can do is let a sigh out of my mouth and exhale all the heaviness I feel in my chest. I do not know what I want anymore. My eyes are so tired— both stings. My shoulders want to drop. I feel so lightheaded right now. My mouth and lips are both dry and the latter is chapped. I can feel my heart pounding its way out of my chest. I can hear myself breathing. I am so tired and exhausted. I am so tired of feeling like an unmotivated piece of nothing.

            I wish that I can tell these things to somebody. I wish that I can be vulnerable to and with someone. I wish I can be honest for once in my life. I wish that I can be honest with myself. I wish that I can tell people how I really feel and how I really felt. It is like I am trapped in a place that I want to improve but I don’t want to stay in it either. It is like I don’t want to be myself, yet I want to be myself at the same time.

            I want to remember. I forgot how things really felt. I forgot so many things because I did not want to accept them. I do not want to forget but my mind began to— even though I want to remember most of it. I want to be courageous. I want to have some faith that will allow me to take the leap. I want to learn. I am eager and craving for something. I want to fight for something. I want to be the moon. I want to learn how to live under the sunlight and not to always hide behind the gloomiest cloud in the sky. I want to be alive. I want to stay alive. I want to learn how to live. I want to live. I want to live in a life where I can see myself in it. I want to learn how to love my own life. I want to learn how to love my soul.

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

All In Good Time

Summary: Tired of seeing his best friend wallowing in whiskey after another disappointment, he finally confesses a well-kept secret.

A/N: Written for @spnfluffbingo2019 & @spndeanbingo. Please excuse the poorly written smut, it’s been a while since venturing down that path and I was constantly distracted but things OTHER than the smut at hand. Oh well, hope you enjoy it!

Square filled for SPN Fluff Bingo: Best Friends to Lovers

Squared filled SPN Dean Bingo: FreeSpace

Warnings: Mild angst, Smut (18+ ONLY), Language

WC: 5.3K

Tags at the end of fic. Gifs not mine, credit to owners.

“Drinking that isn’t gonna make it stop, you know,” Dean said as he sat on the stool beside you.

“Stop what?” you asked without looking in his direction.

“Whatever you’re trying to forget.”

“You think you’re so damn smart, Winchester.” You did not need Dean’s brand of pep talk at the moment.

“Because I am,” he smirked. “As my best friend you should know how smart I am, and that I’m right about ninety-five percent of the time.” He finally turned to look at you and raised his brow teasingly. “If I remember correctly, last time you were throwing them back this hard, you’d been dumped by that chucklehead, Rocco. Can’t believe you dated a guy named Rocco…” he shook his head, disappointed in your past choices and drank his beer.

“Bite me,” you growled and threw back the rest of the whiskey in the glass.

You held it up for the bartender to refill and when he came to do so, Dean placed his hand over the top of the glass and slightly shook his head with a frown.  

“Dean, don’t be a dick—”

“She’s good,” he said to the bartender, who took one look at you and agreed that Dean was right.

“What the hell?! I wasn’t done,” you snapped at him, incredulous about his decision that you’d had enough to drink. “I’m not even that drunk!”

“Yeah, you are.” Dean slid the glass out of your reach, keeping his eyes locked with yours only infuriating you more.

“Who the fuck do you think you are? I’m a big girl, Dean. We aren’t fifteen anymore and you don’t need to protect me from myself or anyone else for that matter.”

WHO did he think he was, anyway? This night sucked. You got stood up for the second time by some guy you really thought could be the one. You thought he nearly perfect, and he seemed to accept your job and lifestyle as well as understood that you were a fiercely independent woman. Clearly, you’d been wrong and, so what, if you wanted to drink away the anger and hurt you felt for being duped, again.

“Me?” Dean mused, and sipped at his beer, “Oh, I’m just the guy who has been looking out for you for your whole damn life. The guy who knocked out Trent Moore when he tried to feel you up in the back of Bobby’s car. Also, the same guy who made sure that your shit-for-brains mother didn’t get you killed when she was drunk and went after a poltergeist.”

“Great, thanks for those reminders,” you moaned and turned on your stool to face the room and lean both elbows back on the bar. “Look, if you’re not gonna let me drink, lay off the trip down memory lane, okay? Not in the mood.”

“Deal.” Dean swallowed the rest of his beer and stood from the stool. “Come on then. W can shoot pool, or go watch a movie… whatever you want,” he reached out a hand to help you up, but you swatted him away.

“No! Just go, man. Let me wallow.”

“You know what… you’re a stubborn ass bitch. Fine, wallow! I’m so fucking tired of watching you do this. Oh, and next time you need a savior, sweetheart, call Sam, cause I’m done playing your white knight!”

Dean’s face was twisted in frustration, anger, and hurt, which left you confused. In all the years you had known him, he never got this mad at you before and you didn’t understand what made this time any different.

He reached into his pocket and slapped down cash on the bar, then turned and headed straight for the exit. You felt shocked and frozen in place, watching him storm through the bar and out the front door. Dean had been your best friend for most of your life, and sure there had been arguments; many, many arguments. But never had he straight up yelled at you before and it wasn’t sitting right to leave things with him like this.

You brushed your feelings of wallowing aside and found a purpose to move off the stool. The alcohol you’d already consumed made you feel lightheaded at the sudden movement, but your concern over Dean’s departure took precedence. No matter how you felt, you could not let him leave like that.

 You found him in the parking lot. He was pacing back and forth in front of the Impala; his fists clenching and unclenching in sync with his jaw. You watched for a moment, hesitant to approach him in his current state. That’s when he looked up and saw you standing there. Unsure of what to say, you just shrugged. Your mouth fell open to speak but no words would come out.

Dean’s brow was still buried in frustration that was directed straight at you. It wasn’t like him to be this angry, not over you wanting to drink away the thoughts of another disappointment. Normally he joined in, helped you to bounce back by cracking jokes and getting drunk alongside you.

“I can’t with you right now, okay?” he grunted from under his breath. “Just go back inside.”

“Dean… I’m sorry. Whatever I said…”

He snorted a laugh and bite his lip. “You’re sorry. For what? You don’t even realize what you’re sorry for, do you?”

“No, I don’t. But clearly, I did something to piss you off. I never want to fight with you, Dean. Not really fight, anyway. So, whatever it was—”

“Fine, you wanna know? Really?” his voice rose with each word, his anger come through with each decibel.

Seeing him this way, and having it directed at you was not something you’d experienced before. Afraid that the wrong thing would make him angrier, all you could do was nod. Dean drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes. He was centering himself; he’d never admit that’s what he was doing, but it was. There was nothing you didn’t know about him. At least, you thought you knew everything about it.

“Since we were sixteen years old, any job we worked together, I watched you meet someone, hook up, and then get dumped. Each time, you ended up hurt, scared, or in a predicament that me or Sam had to rescue you from.”

His words stung and you wanted to be annoyed with him; but the truth was, Dean was right. There was nothing you could say that would help, so you remained silent and let him finish.

“For years, Y/N, years… We’ve worked together, killed some evil sons-of-bitches together… we’ve celebrated and mourned. We’ve drunk ourselves silly, and bandaged each other up, countless times...”

Dean paused, his entire body sighing as it released the built-up fury he had been holding onto. He unclenched his fists and took a few steps closer to where you stood.

“In all that time, I made some of the best memories of my life. Between you and Sam, you guys were my home. Everything good I can think of is wrapped up in you and my brother. So, you’ll have to excuse me if I am tired of seeing you get like that over yet another piece of shit asshole who can’t see how damn lucky he was that you even looked his way.”

You felt your stomach drop out, not because of what he said, but because of how he looked at you when he said it. Your mind flashed through a dozen scenarios where he had come to your rescue; with guys, monsters, your own mother and had even saved you from yourself a time or two. If it hadn’t been for Dean, you would have been dead years ago.

“I—I don’t know what to say other than, you’re right,” you said softly, the whiskey and culpability was still stinging in your throat. “I shouldn’t have depended on you for so long. I put you in these terrible situations, and—”

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered and brought his hand to his face, running it over his worn features. “You’re fucking clueless…”

“What now? I’m trying to apologize and tell you that you were right! What more do you want from me, Dean? What?!” You could feel your hands starting to shake, and a bubble of your rage starting to rise and your throat now on fire from the volume of your voice. “What the FUCK do you want from me, huh?!”

People passing by were starting to stare, so you closed the small bit of distance between you, ready to unload a little more without attracting a crowd. But when you got closer, Dean started to laugh.

“What the fuck is so funny?” you asked, breathing hard through your nose trying to simmer the boil of frustration.

“You. You look ridiculous when you get angry.” He was smiling now, not quite laughing, but the grin he wore was genuine and reserved for moments with people he trusted.

“You’re bipolar, Winchester,” you huffed, trying to contain your temperament.

Dean shrugged. “Maybe. But I think its more that you just drive me insane sometimes.”

“Oh sure, blame ME for your particular brand of crazy! I don’t know what to do any more here, man. I can’t do anything right with you, lately.”

“What the Hell does that mean?” Dean asked with a flare of insolence.

“The last three jobs we’ve worked? You barked at me for no reason. You’re short with me when I ask you to stop while on the road, you constantly ride me for shit that I have zero control over!”

“Then why do you stay, hm? Why not go off on your own? Hunt alone?”

“I’ve tried! You just keep finding me and taking me along to the next job! Friends don’t let friends hunt alone, remember?!”

Dean squeezed his eyes shut and drew in a deep breath. “I need a drink,” he said and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Shouldn't have closed out the bar tab,” you muttered.

“You know what—” he lifted his head, the look of aggravation back on his face. “I’m—this is—fuck it! God, you frustrate the shit out of me!”

In a moment’s time, Dean had your face in his hands and his mouth on yours. Your first instinct was to retreat, then slap him across the face. Quickly following that, was the sudden desire to kiss him back. There had plenty of times you discreetly watched your best friend from the corner of your eye when he didn’t realize you were looking. How could you not? Dean was a gorgeous man, but more than that, he was sexy and funny. He was basically every girl’s fantasy. From his green eyes and freckles, right down to his bowlegs and boots. He was cocky and arrogant, smart as hell, and had a smile that could only be described as the devil’s handiwork. But never, in a million years, did you imagine he would have any interest in kissing you. In more than twenty years together, he never once tried nor looked at you like he wanted too; at least from what you could remember.

Dean’s lips were soft, yet he used them roughly against you. Every time you felt yourself pull back in the slightest, he continued to draw you in. You were fully immersed now, and when his mouth parted, you found yourself kissing him back just as greedily. His hand circled around to your neck and tangled up in your hair, entwining his fingers in the wispy strands and gripping them tightly. It caused a rush throughout your body; partially because of the whiskey still flowing through your veins, and partially because it just fucking felt so good.

You moaned softly into his mouth involuntarily and you felt his lips unfurl into a slight smirk. He slowly pulled away from your lips but left his hand concealed in your hair.

“Get in the car,” he growled. “Please.” It was only to try and sound like he was being polite, but there was nothing well-mannered about the way he was holding you in his gaze. That’s when he released you completely, and there was no hesitation in your decision to get into the front seat of the Impala and leave with him.

Dean followed suit and got behind the wheel. He fired up the engine and before he put his most prized possession in gear, he reached out with his right hand and gripped your thigh. Sliding you closer to him, he kissed you again, gentle and wanting, leaving his hand to rest on your leg and kneading his fingers into your flesh as if he were a cat.

Without a word, he pulled back, put the car in gear, and speed off down the road to the motel you all had been staying at.

 The motel door flew open with a bang. Dean pulled you into the room and slammed it shut so hard that it rebounded off the frame and opened again. You took a few more steps into the room he shared with Sam, though Sam was nowhere to be seen, and watched as Dean made sure the door was not only locked, but the chain was up.

You were almost afraid to speak. Dean had this look in his eyes that challenged you to say something, anything he could use to prove whatever point it was he was trying to make. But you didn’t give in. You were too nervous and excited about what was going to happen; realizing for the first time how much you had wanted it to.

He stalked you; his green eyes, now full of lust and want, were affixed to his prey. Dean moved slowly from the door to where you stood. As he crossed the room, he removed his jacket and threw it in the corner by the window. Next, his flannel came off and was tossed in the same direction. His eyes never wavering from you.

The ripple of his muscles on his arms was prominent now that his body was tense and anxious. The closer he got, the more your heart began to pound. How could you not have seen this in him before; all these years attached at the hip never once did you realize he would be looking at you the way he was then.

“I wasn’t gonna have this conversation with you in the parking lot of some dive bar,” he said, and despite the edge to his demeanor, his voice was gentle and calm. “I wasn’t gonna tell you, how many times I wanted to kill some guy who had his hands on you in some bar. Or a random joker on a case we were working, trying to get you meet them for drinks--”

“Dean…”

He ignored you. “I wasn’t going to tell you how many times I came so close to telling you that I wanted to be that guy and…” he trailed off, now directly in front of you, the arms you had just been admiring reaching out for you.

“And, what?” you managed to ask despite the lump in your throat.

Dean leaned in and kissed you again, slipping his arms around the lower part of your waist. When you felt him lift your feet off the ground, you let him and locked your arms around his neck. He took a few steps towards the bed and put you back on your feet at the foot of it.

“All those nights I watched you eyeing up any other guy but me… I was starting to resent you for it. Tonight, I finally realized that it’s my own damn fault.”

Your arms were still up around his neck, your lips a breath apart. “What do you mean?”

Dean didn’t answer at first, instead, he took your arms off his neck, and slipped your jacket off, letting it fall to the floor and kicking it out of the way.

“I got scared to tell you, that you were the one I wanted to take home every night. I should have told you. Instead, I kept quiet, would watch you go off with someone else and then I end up going home with some mediocre stand-in that never seemed to measure up to you.”

You didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t ever given you an indication he thought of you like that. Not that you had looked at the Winchesters as brothers, but there was a closeness that you felt to them; Dean especially. Anything physical felt like it would be crossing a line you couldn’t come back from. It was scary to think of life without Dean and Sam, and if you DID cross that line, it could go wrong and eventually cost you their place in your life? That couldn’t happen.

“Now you know why I wasn’t gonna let you wallow over some guy, not again. You can go if that’s what you want. Certainly not going to make you stay here, but I really want you too, Y/N. Stay tonight. Give this a chance.”

He was pleading with you now, nearly begging with the crease of his brow and the hope in his eyes. You couldn’t leave, you didn’t want too. He had been in front of you this entire time, and the only thing you wanted to forget was how many nights had been lost that you and he could have been together.

There weren’t any words that would convey what you wanted, so you took action instead. You locked in with his gaze and began to shed your layers of clothes until you stood before him in only your bra and underwear. His tongue ran nervously over his bottom lip at the sight of you while his eyes drank you in. Dean reached out and ran his fingers from your shoulder and down across your collarbone, then let them drift down your cleavage.

You took the bottom of his shirt, and pulled it up over his head, throwing it off to the side. From there, everything happened in what felt like seconds. Dean was kicking off his boots and pulling off his jeans. He had you down on the bed, laying his weight on top of you, running his hands across your flesh, and letting his mouth explore your neck. He pulled down your bra, exposing your breast to the warm air of the motel room. Dean brought his mouth to your nipple, running his tongue over it, making your entire body shiver.

His other hand ran down the length of your body, and pawed at the hem of your panties, yanking them down and finding the hood of your sex. Just the promise of his touch, caused his name to moan from your lips.

“Say it again,” he growled lowly, moving his mouth back up to your neck.

“Dean, please…”

His fingers slipped down and moved against your clit, the sensation of which was overwhelming. He moved slowly, toying with it, and with each pass against your most sensitive place, caused your back to arch up into him, and him to smile with satisfaction.

Dean moved further down, and let his fingers easily slid up into you, and the more you reacted to his touch, the more his erection grew against your leg. You dug your nails into his back, then ran them down to the boxers he still wore. Yanking them down, he looked down at you and smiled.

“Look who’s all impatient now,” he teased.

“Fuck you, Winchester,” you moaned as he thrust his fingers up into you with a bit more force making you gasp with both surprise and pleasure.

“In a minute, honey, in a minute… waited a long time for this…”

Before you could respond, Dean kissed you, hard. His tongue taking control and swirling with yours greedily. It was all too much for your overstimulated body, and you felt yourself ready to cum. Dean knew it too, he could feel the fluttering warmth of you around his hand, and it only made him insistent to continue.

You forced your head back, arching your chest up to him and cursed as he suddenly pulled his hand from you, before your release could come to fruition. He stood from the bed and let his boxers fall to the floor, before going into his jeans pocket, retrieving his wallet and pulling out the condom he kept there.

You sat up on your elbows and watched him curiously. “Look who’s mister responsibility,” you teased.

Dean shrugged but flashed that damn smirk. “Told you, been waiting for this for a long time. No way I was going to come unprepared.”

While he was taking care of the necessities, you moved further back on the bed after slipping off your bra and underwear. Dean finally climbed on the bed next to you; your heart pounding and your sex throbbing for more of him. You moved him so he was sitting against the headboard, and you straddled his lap, positioning yourself over him.

Dean’s gaze was greedy, but the animalistic lust he had earlier was gone; now he just watched you close, as if burning the memory of this night into his memory forever. As you sank down, letting his cock slide up into you, Dean’s eyes fluttered closed as his head rolled back against the headboard and his fingertips dug into your hips. It took only a second for you to start rocking against him; moving your hips in slow, methodical circles. With each pass, his mouth fell open, and his breathing intensified.

“Jesus… Fuuuuck…” he growled when you ran your nail up his chest and clasped your fingers behind his neck.

You guided his head to your chest, where he took your breast in his mouth, licking and sucking at your nipple. The faster you moved, the hungrier he became. Your head rolled back, and your overstimulated clit was pulsating with each pass you made against him. Your mind was completely lost in the moment with him; nothing before him had ever felt this good, this right… this euphoric.

His hands were beginning to grip you harder, moving you faster while his eyes opened and locked with yours. You wanted to speak, encourage him to fuck you as hard and fast as he wanted, but you didn’t have to because he saw it on your face. Your climax was rising again, and when you finally came, he did too, moaning your name and burying his head between your breasts. You could feel him throbbing inside you, matching his release with yours. Then, sighing as both of your muscles relaxed and you melted into each other.

A thin sheen of sweat coated both your bodies, as you cradled him against you. No rush to move off him, nor did he want that either. Dean lifted his head and reached his lips up to yours, as his hands slid around your waist and down over your ass.

“Worth the wait?” you asked, nearly breathless but smiling down at him.

Dean chuckled and moved his one hand up to brush a patch of sweaty hair from your brow. “And then some.”

You kissed him gently, then moved off his lap, falling to the bed beside him with a sigh of satisfaction. Dean reluctantly got up from the bed and excused himself to the bathroom. He was only gone a minute and leaped back into the bed next to you, attacking your neck with his mouth. Though you were exhausted, your body was still reeling from being with him. Forget the physical sensation, but the emotional one was all your mind could focus on now.

Dean Winchester, he had been your best friend for more than twenty years. He was the one you sought out for advice, he was your hunting partner, your drinking buddy, your partner in crime and in shenanigans. Now, was he really going to be your lover, too? Could you see yourself being with him like that? Risking a lifetime of friendship for the possibility of falling in love?

You wanted to say something, but not ruin the moment either. Instead, you just let yourself go, and tried not to think about it. Dean had the covers pulled up over you now, and rolled you onto your back while trailing light kisses along your shoulder.

“You okay with all this?” he asked, his expression turning serious.

“If you’re asking if I regret it, no, I don’t. But what is all this, exactly?”

“Whatever we want it to be. There’s no rules here, Y/N. You know, besides my brother, you’re the most important person in the world to me. And, yeah… I’ve wanted you for a long ass time. But I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

“Pressured into what?”

Dean considered for a moment and tried to choose his words carefully. “Being with me. Just me. If that’s not something you want—”

“Shut up,” you interrupted and sat up on one elbow. “I’m good right here with you, Dean. Doesn’t need to be defined. I realize now all those others were just a placeholder for you, too.”

“You really mean that?”

You nodded and kissed him. “Really.”

Dean settled back into the bed and drew you into the crook of his shoulder. You laid there wrapped in his arms, just breathing him in and relishing in this sudden turn life had taken when you heard the door start to open. The chain caught it and you pulled the covers up to your neck just as Sam’s face stuck through the crack in the door.

“Dean! Come on man, let me in,” he whined.

Dean looked to you and chuckled when he saw your expression. “You good?”

You nodded slightly and sunk down into the bed, pulling the covers over your head. You barely had time to register that you and Dean just had mind-blowing sex and were now discussing being a thing, but you had to contend with Sam, too?

“One minute,” he called out, and Sam shut the door.

Dean grabbed his boxers and jeans, slipped them back on and went to let his little brother in.

“Sorry, I was uh… entertaining,” Dean smirked and raised his eyes brows in triumph as Sam walked into the room.

“Man, seriously? Can’t you get your own room for that?”

“Sorry little brother, these things can’t be helped.”

Sam looked around and saw the mess of clothes all over the floor, then noticed your breathing lump beneath the covers.

“Dean,” he said through gritted teeth. “Your company is still here.”

“She sure is.”

“Hi Sam,” you spoke up sheepishly through the blanket over your face. “How’s it going?”

“Y/N?!” he gasped, his eyes wide with shock as he whipped his head around to look at his brother, who nodded still wearing his victorious smile. “Jesus…” Sam sighed and shook his head. “Well, damn, its about damn time. Geez. I just don’t get why you guys couldn’t have went to her room?”

“What?” you asked, sitting up and uncovering your face. “What does that mean… about time?”

Sam’s face immediately blushed when he realized you were completely naked under the sheets. He turned his head and stuttered his response. “It’s—it—it’s just that… you and Dean, this has been coming for a while and—” he smacked himself in the head for his choice of words. “Dammit. You know what I mean. You know what, I’m gonna go… I can’t be here right now.”

“Take my room, Sam. Key is in my jacket pocket. And don’t worry, this doesn’t change anything. I promise I’ll still let you ride shotgun.”

Sam rolled his eyes, then quickly turned to grab your coat from the floor and retrieved the key before he made a quick exit from the room. Dean was snickering at his brother as he slammed the door behind him and could be seen nearly sprinting away down the walkway towards your room.

“So, that just happened,” you groaned and fell back to the bed.

“I wouldn’t worry about Sammy, he’ll take it all in stride.” Dean came back and laid down on top of the covers next to you. “Like he said, it’s been coming for a while.”

“In your mind, maybe,” you said quietly and cast your eyes away from his scrutiny. “I never thought you even considered me like this. You were always eyeing up some other girls, talking about this one or that one…” you shrugged, and sat up straight against the headboard.

“I was trying to make you jealous. Guess I was too much of a coward to just be upfront about it,” he paused and swallowed hard. “You were it, though. The one I always thought that would be there in the end.”

“Is that what this is? The end?”

“End of one thing, beginning of another,” he smiled and leaned over to leave a kiss on your shoulder. “Still friends though. That’s always gotta come first because no matter what, you’re stuck with me.”

You felt an odd sense of relief in knowing that this friendship cultivated over two decades would remain and come first. “I can handle that.”

“Good. Now. Can you handle getting your clothes back on? You see, this chick I’m sleeping with distracted me from the burgers on the menu at the bar and I’m starving. She was being a sloppy drunk, I had to get her home--”

You raised your fist like you were going to punch him and he rolled away from you. But your arm hooked around his waist in time to prevent him from getting off the bed. You forced him back to where he was and quickly straddled him again. That look of lust was already back in his eyes as you grabbed his wrists and pinned them back up against the headboard.

“I may have been drunk, but I can still pin your ass down.”

“Unfair advantage when you’re naked and I’m weak-willed.”

You dove down to his neck and left a rough, biting kiss there. “Still want that burger?”

He shook his head and a mischievous gleam glistened in Dean’s eyes. In one swift motion, he had you flipped on your back while he hovered over you and used part of his weight to hold you down. He trailed his mouth down your chest and across your abdomen and positioned himself between your legs. Still sensitive from your first encounter with him, the touch of his tongue against your clit caused a whole body shiver to course through you.

“Fuuck, warn a girl, would ya?” you mewed as your hands gripped each side of his head to try and control him as he lavished your sex with his tongue.

Dean wrapped his arms under your thighs and then pinned them open further, giving him as much access to you as he could get. Your hips moved with him, your moans louder and louder with each pass of his teeth and tongue. This time when you finally came, he refused to let go, drinking you in until your body went limp with exhaustion.

You watched him through the hazy afterglow, sit up and wipe his face clean with the sheet, leaving behind only that triumphant grin.

“Now, I’m ready for that burger,” he winked. “Wanna grab a shower with me real quick? Go find some grub?”

Still, in a daze from everything, you were able to give him a smile and nod, because words just wouldn’t come. Dean helped you up off the bed but held into your hand for a moment.

“Still feel good with all this?” he asked, his features softer than normal.

“Yeah, Dean. More than good. Best I’ve felt in forever, actually.”

“Alright then. Shower, burgers, bed,” he said, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder as he walked towards the bathroom. Though you playfully smacked at his back to put you down, you never wanted him to let you go. You never wanted to spend another night without him.

Everything tags: @kazosa // @sorenmarie87 // @lefthologramdeer // @his-paradox // @letsby // @thefaithfulwriter // @sister-winchesters99

Supernatural tags: @wings-of-a-raven // @negans-wife // @mrsbarnes-rogers // @teller258316 // @spnhollis // @sweet-things-4-life // @hobby27 // @sweetlythoughtfulbird // @theoriginalvicki // @dreamchester67 // @xxwarhawk // @babykalika2001 // @superwhovainfangirl // @toobusynerdfighting // @missihart23 // @idreamofplaid // @thewinchesterchronicles // @waywardgypsy // @closetspngirl // @fatestemptress // @rebelminxy // @22sarah08 // @witch-of-letters // @cole-winchester // @rainflowermoon // @adoptdontshoppets // @waywardvalkyrie // @fandomoniumflurry // @blackcherrywhiskey // @jessieray98 // @lyoly // @a--1--1--3 // @31shadesofbrown // @whereismyangel-damnitdeanshare // @pilaxia // @screechingartisancashbailiff // @kgbrenner // @holylulusworld // @deansenwackles // @jamielea81 // @coffeebooksandfandom // @logical-princey // @gemini0410 // @salt-n-burn-em-all // @collette04 // @mrswhozeewhatsis // @deathofmissjackson // @lauravic // @akshi8278 // @katehuntington // @81mysteriouslyme 

[jetsandbennie]

from across the world.

[ continuation of tango just for three and hot seat of love. ]

summary: you and ben miss joe quite a lot. luckily, 21st century technology has a solution to your problems.

warnings: smut, 18+. phone/facetime sex, female receiving oral, masturbation, slight fluff

pairing: ben hardy x joe mazzello x reader

“Do you miss Joe?” comes the question, late at night. Ben had rolled off of you just a moment ago after bringing you to your second orgasm of the night and your mind is reeling with post-coital bliss, still feeling the tiniest bit lightheaded.

Ben tends to give that effect.

“Miss him?” Ben questions, and then laughs, reaching over to the nightstand to grab his phone. You briefly see the time as it turns on - it’s 1:43 in the morning, and normally the pair of you would probably be deep in your dreams, but you’d been out at a party. It had been cut short - Ben was too desperate to wait until later, and so, the two of you had left just an hour after you got there.

And, naturally, been at it for an hour.

And it was all wonderful, of course. Ben never failed to satisfy you and you know that will never change, but after having spent nearly a week with Joe and having both men at all times, there does feel like there’s just the tiniest thing missing.

“I talk to him every day, love.” you roll your eyes at Ben’s response, pressing your face further into his bare, sweaty chest. He knows what you mean and you know he knows, but he loves bothering you. “Might have to be more specific.”

“Alright, then. Do you miss his dick down your throat?”

“Ah. In that case, yeah.”

You laugh, sitting up in bed and letting the sheets fall down your chest. It’s desperately hot in your bedroom and you’re so sweaty, and Ben’s eyes meet yours with a small grin. “Why do you ask?” he questions, setting his phone down on his chest as he reaches out for your hand.

His skin is soft as you run your thumb along his palm. “I miss him. A lot.” Then you pause. “I miss his dick.”

“I bet he misses us too. And all of our assets.”

Yeah, you agree. He seemed entirely too satisfied over the week you and Ben had spent there, following that night, though in your texts with him he had seemed quite tame. Not quite unlike the messages you’d sent before, and perhaps that ought to unnerve you but you can’t bring yourself to be bothered by it. You knew he enjoyed the week and the next time you saw him you hoped it would continue, texts be damned.

The two of you sit in silence for a moment. You take in deep breaths, bringing a hand up to fan at yourself, and Ben picks his phone back up and continues to scroll through it. You lean your head back against the headboard and you assume the conversation has concluded, that you’ll fall asleep in a few minutes with Ben’s arm around you and you’ll wake up the next morning and the world will continue as usual. But then - you hear the telltale ringing of a FaceTime call from Ben’s phone and your gaze snaps to the device in his hand.

You can’t see who the call is directed to as Ben angles it slightly away from you, and you grasp the sheets in your hands and pull them up to cover your bare breasts. “What the fuck? Hang up, Ben, I’m naked.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

And you do worry about it, in fact, for just about five more seconds until the ringing ends and a groggy voice on the other end says, “hello?”

It’s Joe. Of course it’s Joe. Given a few more minutes you’re sure your mind would have gotten to that conclusion but in the heat of the moment - well. You let the sheets drop again, back down to your waist, and scoot closer to Ben, lowering your head until it’s in frame and you can see Joe, hair mussed up and mouth open in a yawn. In the corner of the screen is you and Ben, your faces pressed together and yours, particularly, shining in excitement.

If Ben finds it odd how excited you are to see Joe, he doesn’t comment. Perhaps he feels the same way and has a better poker face. He is an actor, of course.

“She said she missed you,” says Ben, and you smile slightly, cheeks flushing the tiniest bit.

“He said he does too. It isn’t just me,” you counter.

And Joe smiles. His smile makes your heart swell and you’re not exactly sure why. Out of frame, you reach for Ben’s free hand and grab it and squeeze as tight as you can. The touch is a small reminder that the love of your life is here, with you, and he always will be. Joe is - Joe. You’ll give yourself more time to ponder on it later. “Well, I miss you guys, too,” the ginger says, voice genuine, full of truth.

“So, when are you going to come out to London? Feels like it’s been forever since we’ve seen you,” you demand, and Ben tilts his head to the side just a bit so you can center yourself in the frame.

“Soon. A few weeks, maybe, I don’t know.” There’s a pause, and neither you nor Ben attempt to fill it. You know Joe has more to say, more to add. “Can I stay with you guys?”

And Ben says, without a moment’s hesitation, “Where else would you stay?”

“Anytime you come out to London, you’re staying with us. Promise.” you hold your hand up and stick out a pinky, and Joe laughs and mirrors the gesture on the other side of the world.

“Promise,” responds Joe, and his voice is becoming lighter, sleep evaporating from his tone. And then, “Is there any specific reason you called me?”

You open your mouth to say no but before you can, Ben says, “Yeah, actually,” and his hand squeezes yours once more. And that’s only the smallest bit confusing, because, of course, you saw absolutely no reason Ben had called Joe.

But then Ben lifts the phone up and releases his hand from yours to tug the sheets completely down your body, exposing your total nakedness to the warm air of the room, and then he points the phone screen directly down at you.

Joe lets out a small noise of surprise and you feel a darker, much hotter flush creep up your cheeks, covering your body, and you bring a hand up to cover your chest instinctively. But then you realize - it’s nothing Joe hasn’t seen, really, and the idea of this is insanely erotic, when you think through it, so when your hand reaches your left breast you begin to massage the skin gently. A small show for him.

“Looks good, right?” questions Ben in his soft voice and you smile up at him, unable to see Joe’s face through the screen with the angle of the phone. “She misses you. Want to see?”

“Yes. Fuck. Yes, obviously.” Joe’s voice is breathy already and you could practically feel, through the screen, 3,000 miles away, the hardness of his dick. “Jesus Christ. It’s fucking 7 am.”

“We can stop, if you want,” you say quietly, voice mocking, because you know Joe would never pass up on this. “If you want to get your precious beauty rest. I’m sure you don’t look that pretty without a bit of shut eye. We’ll go and continue this ourselves and you -”

“Oh, shut up,” Joe says. Your boyfriend points the screen up at you so you can see Joe’s face, and he can see your small grin, and then Ben slides down your body until he gets right between your thighs. He uses one hand to part your legs and then turns the camera around so it’s facing your pussy, practically dripping wet, at this point, and you hear Joe moan.

You moan, too, when Ben brings a finger forward to drag up your folds, collecting your wetness at the tip of his finger, and then he displays it to Joe. The slickness glistens in the pale light of the room and you push yourself up onto your elbows to watch whatever’s going on down there. Ben presses an open mouthed kiss against your thigh and then, meeting eyes with Joe, takes his finger in his mouth and sucks your juices off of it, and you moan just a bit louder. Joe’s own groan mixes with yours.

“She’s soaked, Joe,” Ben murmurs, and then leans forward to press a soft kiss against your clit. Your hips jerk upward and your hand shoots out to grip the sheets beneath you. “Stay still, baby,” the blonde says to you, eyes flickering up to meet yours, and you bring your free hand down to stroke his hair. And then Ben says - not to you, you know that - “all for us, you know. What should we do to her?”

There’s silence, and Ben presses his hand against your thigh, holding it down onto the bed. Your muscles burn just a bit from the stretch but you don’t dare complain - you don’t think you could, anyway. And after a moment Joe finally says, “Give her the phone.” His voice had gotten lower and your stomach turns, arousal pooling back down to your cunt.

Ben paused. “Give -?”

“I want to watch you eat her pussy.”

Your breath hitches in your throat and you moan out lowly, eyes meeting Ben’s again. Your core is aching for him and you felt as though you’d die if he didn’t touch you soon. Your boyfriend arches one eyebrow and you nod desperately, and then reach down to grab the phone from him. You turned the camera around, staring at Joe’s face through the screen. His hair is messy and his mouth is open, lips wet, and when his eyes flicker back up to his phone you see his expression change like the phases of the moon.

All he can see, now, is Ben burying his face between your thighs. Perhaps you’d be a bit shocked too.

You cry out as Ben - now using both hands to push your thighs apart - licks a thin stripe up your folds. His lips wrap around your clit, tongue flicking against it.

“Fuck! Oh, fuck,” your voice a breathy moan, you wrap one hand around your breast, kneading the soft skin and rolling your hardened nipple between your fingers. You gaze at Ben through the screen of the phone, at the small image of him in the corner, and somehow it’s hotter watching it through the screen than in real life. His skin is shining, light accenting parts of his hair, and every noise he makes with his mouth - every sound against your pussy - is barely heard against Joe’s moans and yours.

Perhaps the sight seems better through the camera, but the real pleasure is all for you.

Part of you feels bad for Joe, being denied of any physical part of this. Another part of you can’t get your mind to focus on your pity at all, not when Ben grazes his teeth against your clit before sticking his tongue directly in your cunt and you can’t think at all actually.

“Oh, fuck, so - I’m so -” Joe can’t seem to get the words out and his face is tinged red, his breathing heavy. You know what he’s doing and you want to see, want to see so bad.

“Show me, Joe, baby, what - fuck, turn the camera around, Joe,” you gasp, moving your hand from your breast to wrap in Ben’s hair, and the blonde looks up at you with a shit eating smile. His chin is glistening with your arousal and it makes even more wetness flow to your core. Then his eyes turn at the camera, and you glance at the screen and it’s - changed, obviously, from Joe’s face to his dick, rock hard and a brutally angry shade of red in his hand as he jerks himself off. “Oh, God!”

Ben brings one hand down to press his thumb back against your clit and your hips jerk violently against his face, grinding into his mouth as you cum. The phone falls from your grasp onto your stomach, and Joe jacking off faces the ceiling. Ben raises his face just a bit to look at the screen and then he moans, a moan that vibrates directly through your pussy, and it only brutally intensifies your orgasm.

Your shaky hands grab Ben’s phone and pick it up so you can see Joe, his pace on his desperately hard cock stuttering slightly, and you know he’s almost there.

(You’d gotten to know his I’m going to cum soon mannerisms.)

“Need to fuck you, baby,” Ben groaned, and then he pulls himself up further onto the bed. His dick is hard again and you know how needy he gets at times like this. “What do you want, Joe?”

You press the phone against Ben’s chest and throw your leg over his hips until you’re straddling him, and he points the camera up at you.

“I don’t care, Christ, gonna cum so hard -” But Joe didn’t have to say anything at all - you wouldn’t have taken his request anyway. You reached beneath you and grasped Ben’s cock, squeezing just enough for him to gasp in pleasure, and then you positioned him beneath you and slid onto his thick member. The pair of you moaned in unison, and Ben brought one quivering hand up to grasp at your chest, the other maintaining a death grip on his phone. Joe cries out as Ben kneads your breast, rolling your nipple between his thumb, and you arch your back into his hand.

Ben is already so close, you can tell, as you roll your hips against his before raising them and slamming back down, and he lets out a strangled moan. You’re exhausted, but you know you have another one in you and it’ll be the best yet, with the feeling of Ben inside of you and Joe cumming and even if you were on the verge of passing out you know you’d continue. So you lean forward and brace your hands on Ben’s chest - he backs the phone up to get more of you in frame - and you focus every ounce of energy you have on bouncing up and down, legs aching, and you hear Joe’s yell from across the world and you know he came. Know the sticky substance is coating his stomach, know he’s thrown his head back against the pillow and is desperately trying to catch his breath, know he’s still trying to watch you and Ben go at it.

You lean forward more and press your forearm against Ben’s chest so you can drag your fingers down your body to focus on your clit, where you know you’ll get the most pleasure, little jolts of lightning sparking through your body. Shaky digits rub furiously against your most sensitive area, and -

When you cum it’s catastrophic.

With a few more bounces you fly over the edge again and you can’t breathe, your voice hoarse with screaming, and your legs convulse around Ben’s hips. A magnitude 9 earthquake, waves of pleasure shoot through you, and you slam your hips down one more time as Ben groans loudly and empties inside of you, his cum painting your walls, and you’re still fucking cumming and oh God, it’s never really been like this before. You lean down and press your head against Ben’s sweaty chest, heaving to catch your breath, and you’ve nearly forgotten about Joe until a minute later.

“Fuck.”

Ben laughs at the ginger’s throaty comment. “Was that worth waking you up, sleeping beauty?”

“You can wake me up anytime with that.”

You can’t be bothered to respond. You doubt your voice would work, anyway - your throat is burning and your legs ache. You’ll call a sick day from work tomorrow, surely. Force Ben to wait on you hand and foot. He’s the one who did this to you, the bastard, four bloody orgasms - you’d make Joe do it, too, but.

“How do you feel?” Joe asks, and you smile into Ben’s slick skin at the question. Ever the gentleman. For a moment - eyes closed, hearing muffled - you could trick yourself into thinking he was there with you.

“Tired,” you murmur, and they share a laugh. You pull yourself off of Ben and roll off of him, curling right back into his side, and Ben turns the camera back around so the two of you were in the shot again. “I can’t wait until you’re here, Joe.”

“After this I might have to come out sooner than I expected. And you two promised I could stay with you.”

Ben’s fingers begin combing through your hair. You’d go and brush it, cleanse it of any knots, if you weren’t afraid of your legs giving out if you tried to stand. “Anytime you want.” A pause. “How about next week?”

[kwrittink]

Punica Granatum 2

Pairing: Hades!TaeHyung x Persephone!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Language, mentions of starving, some melancholy

<one                                                                     three>

Withering like a flower. That’s how you started to feel in that room you used to love so much, now it felt suffocating, the walls were too small and nothing was comfortable anymore.

It also had been two weeks since your sentence and you had refused to eat anything at all, only drinking water and keeping the fruits your mother bring together with your food - some you stashed in the decomposed, to make nutritious compound for your plants - to feed the bat that came visit almost every night after he recovered. 

You weren’t acting that way out of spite or to show rebellion over her decision, rather because you really had lost your will to take care of yourself and do the things you loved. Your plants were the only thing you decided to keep alive, the roots that kept you sane.

‘A golden cage it’s still just a cage, huh?’ You could hear his voice clearly, like it was just beside of your ear, like mockery. Looking outside as the moon now shone through your windows strong and beautiful you sighed, knowing that in a way you were being selfish and arrogant to not value what you had, the great house were you lived at and the lifestyle provided from you mother. But again, the same phrase from TaeHyung, that man who you met and talked only for a couple of hours, echoed in your mind. Even if you had all that, there was no way you could be grateful, seeing that you didn’t know better - or worse - and weren’t able to just find your path back, instead remaining on a state of inertia.

If only someone… If only him came to take me… The thought was so silly and childish, why would you even need someone to free you when you could just get up and break free, jump over the window and run to the forest, do whatever you wanted. Still, the only thing that stopped you was your mother.

The locking you away was symbolic like you thought, since she did unlock the door the next morning but by then you had no intentions of leaving your room. Breaking ‘free’ was parting from your mother and you knew that willingly, you wouldn’t be able to do it. If I sever our bond and things go wrong, I won’t have her to come back to.

Yet, you yearned for the something that gave you a choice, the someone that dragged you away from your cage. For a domesticated bird, only opening the cage won’t do.

Y/N

The whisper registered a little too slowly in your mind, as you finished cutting up a banana to Yuri - you had named the bat of course - and you looked up with a frown, not sure if you had really heard it.

Y/N…

The unmistakable baritone of his voice made your heartbeat spike up, eyes snapping to the source with hitched breath. This time you were sure to have heard it, even if not sure where it was, beyond the glass window. Getting up, you took the bite-sized pieces of banana with you to the clear glass, setting it on the floor where it usually hanged to eat, between the lilies. Squinting, you leaned on the window wail and tried to follow the way from where the voice came, only facing the tall trees from the forest that surrounded your house, the moonlight not being very helpful on discerning things at far. 

Shoulders slumping slightly you sighed, a little upset at not finding anything and realizing it was just another trick your mind was playing on you. It had been a common occurrence, perhaps due to how poorly you were eating. And since you had spent too much time under the sunlight that morning, it was probable you were affected by heatstroke.

“Hey.”

A small yelp left your lips but you ushered to cover your mouth with your fingers, not wanting to wake your mother which was probably in Morpheus’ arms by then, in her beauty sleep. Smile stretching on his features the man waved, stepping further to lean his forearms on the railing where you were seconds prior in his suited glory, this time clad in all black, suit coat embroidered with silver flowers and flourishes reflecting the moonlight and matching his shiny grey locks.

“T-TaeHyung. How…?”

“That abandoned park is part of this reserve, isn’t it?” He asked, and then you were reminded that yes, that place was just a small part of the grand forestal reserve around your family’s land, so in some way Dryads Park was neighboring to the house and jumping over the right fences one could reach the mansion, so you nodded, answering his inquiry. Mimicking your gesture he breathed out, wild eyes softening. “I was looking for you.”

You couldn’t help the blush painting your cheeks, even if feeble and making you lightheaded. You weren’t aware at how weak you felt till that moment when he put his eyes on you, rising goosebumps and changing the calm, almost morbid pace of your life. Suddenly I realize I missed his eyes.

“Why?” The curiosity was genuine, since you couldn’t see why a man like him, that looked so well settled in life could be in search of you, going as far as invading your house.

“I said it before, you’re interesting.” He answered with a shrug and maybe your face showed him you weren’t happy with his answer, since a small smile played on his lips. “You’re a great company, and I got curious about you, really. Thought I’d find you in the park again and walked through it every night till something gave me a hunch you could be here in this secluded area…” TaeHyung trailed off, head turning to glance around, a soft sigh leaving his lips.

Meanwhile you stood thunderstruck staring at him, still digesting the way he explained so easily how he had visited the park every night since the day you met, just to see you again by chance. “Risky thing to do… What if this wasn’t the right house? What would you do?” Clearing your throat to find your voice, you leaned in the wall at your side making him change position slightly, face covered by penumbra. Smirk growing on his face he looked perhaps as mysterious as the Cheshire cat, when Alice first met him at Wonderland.

“I don’t know,” Shrugging again, TaeHyung leaned down further towards you, not so close to be uncomfortable but enough to make your heart flutter. “Good thing I got it on the first try, huh?” Throwing a wink your way he gave you the feeling that in reality he knew exactly where you lived, or at least you've given him a good hint about it. No, that's insane. If he knew about it, I'd know him much earlier. You snickered, shaking your head slightly.

"Yeah, a really lucky guess," Matching his smile you sighed, heart feeling immediately lighter by his presence.

It was ridiculous how easily the conversation flowed. He refused to walk inside your room deeming inappropriate - or as he put it, 'dangerous for both of us' -, and wouldn't let you jump out for it was too cold outside by that time of the night, so you two stood in opposite sides, talking about everything but at the same time, nothing. It was like a dream, like the sun warming you from inside out.

“Take my hand.”

“What?” Your eyes glanced down at his sudden proposal, meeting his long fingers unfolding towards you, palm facing up, room for your own to lodge there, as perfectly as it had done that day in the park, when you first met. "Didn't you say-”

“Ah, you and all those questions.” He huffed, corner of his mouth curling up in a smirk, eyes rolling. “I changed my mind and just wanted to take you out for some time, I’m free and you look like you need some fun.”

“You don’t look like you’re free.” You eyed his clothes again, making him chuckle as you measured him. He does look really good today... He said he works on business and all but... It's so late and he's still on work clothes?

“But I am.” You crossed your arms, eyebrow quirking up incredulous. TaeHyung snickered. “Right now I am and since I found you I wanted your company.” Stressed, and you eyed him suspiciously for a moment, observing the expecting glimmer of his eyes before breathing out and taking his hand, the touch soft and as electrifying as you recalled.

It was probably stupid to trust that man so blindly as you were, but you were so tempted to spend more time with him, get to know TaeHyung even more...

"Fine, Kim TaeHyung." And once again you felt blinded by his sweet smile, as he helped you jump over the railing, a wild feeling stirring your insides. He's going to be the death of me.

[meghandoesfanfic]

safe place

Peter kind of felt the burning sensation on his right side. His vision was definitely blurring, mostly because of the likely blood loss, but he didn't think he was doing that bad.

He was able to crawl behind a rock to assess his injuries a little better and without the team knowing what was happening.

"Quill, where the hell are you?" Rocket snapped over the coms.

"I'm--I have to deal with something real quick." Peter said, wincing at the pain radiating from his side and his upper leg. Definitely a good couple of deep gashes that were bleeding clean through his clothing.

"Peter, what is going on?" Gamora asked. Shit. The one person he couldn't lie to.

"Just taking a quick, uh, breather." He said through a wince.

"Where are you?" She demanded. Peter sighed then, knowing he needed to just suck it up and ask for help.

"I'm sitting behind a big rock--something caught my side and my leg, can't move much." Peter offered, “I’m fine, though—I just need a minute.”

There was radio silence for a moment before Peter winced at Gamora's yell through the coms.

"Peter, are you serious?" She snapped, making him sigh.

"Yeah--I've got it, though, just focus on killing that thing." He replied, looking down to his wounds. He wasn't a doctor by any means, but he could probably patch it up with... something. He’d get creative.

He looked down to his wounds, wincing any time he got too close to one. He knew they could get infected if he wasn't careful, but they'd be back on Xandar soon--

“Peter Quill, you are the biggest idiot in the entire galaxy!” Gamora yelled, making him sigh and close his eyes before looking up to her.

“I’m fine, G’mora, I promise.” He offered as she bent down beside him.

“Shit, you’re bleeding through your clothes.” She said with furrowed brows, assessing his wounds.

“Yeah, but—”

“Don’t you dare say you're fine.” She snapped. He sucked in another deep breath.

“We need to get you back to the Milano before you get hurt any further.” Gamora said, “I need to wrap your wounds, first, so I need you to just stay still.”

Peter nodded, his head feeling lightweight and his vision getting worse as he tried to focus on Gamora tearing up part of her sleeve to make a tourniquet for his leg and for his waist.

“Stay with me, Quill.” She spoke firmly, to which he nodded. She tied the first makeshift bandage around his leg, and he only winced a few times at the pain. It certainly hurt, but Peter had really become numb at this point.

She tied off the bandage around his leg, then moved to the one around his waist.

“I’ll need you to help me.” She spoke in a tone that seemed... less harsh.

“Okay.” He nodded.

“Lean forward.”

He did as she asked, letting her wrap the bandage a few times. It hurt a little worse than his leg (he thought he might have broken a rib or two), but the pain was mostly manageable. Gamora tied that bandage off then offered her hand to him.

“Go back and fight—I’ll get to the Milano on my own.”

“No, Peter—I’m not leaving you to die here.” She snapped, “Take my hand.”

Peter looked between her eyes and her hand before finally taking her hand and letting her help him stand.

He had to lean pretty heavily on her, and his head felt like he was underwater. It wasn’t ideal, but he tried to help her as much as he could.

“Lean on me more—I’m not actually helping you that much.” She said.

“I’m fine.”

“Quill, I will not ask you a second time.”

Peter sighed and leaned a little more into her, still trying to be careful. She was smaller than him, and though he knew she was unbelievably strong, he didn’t want to hurt her.

After ducking from falling debris and walking as quickly as they could manage towards the Milano, they finally reached it.

She helped him up onto the table, closing the bay door behind them.

“Rocket—can you guys tie this up in a few minutes?” Gamora asked through her com, “Peter’s injuries need professional care as soon as possible.”

“Uh, we’ll try—this thing is just getting pissed off instead of getting dead!”

Gamora rolled her eyes, making Peter smile.

“Finish the job, Rocket.” Gamora snapped.

She looked to Peter then, making him raise his brows.

“Stay awake. I know you’re losing blood, but just try to stay awake.” Gamora said, earning a nod from him.

“Thanks for helping me out.” Peter offered.

Gamora smiled then, brushing back some of his curls.

“I wasn’t going to leave our captain to die.” She replied softly.

Peter smiled then, trying not to wince at the pain in his side and leg.

“I might need some motivation to stay awake, you know.” Peter offered, making her roll her eyes.

“You’re lucky we have an unspoken thing.” She whispered before leaning down to kiss him. He let his eyes close as she kissed him, forgetting the pain of his wounds for a few moments.

She gently tugged away, then gently ran her hand over his cheek.

“I think I need to redo your bandages.” She sighed, “I need you to take off your jacket and shirt.”

“I knew you’d come around.” He teased, earning a stern look from her.

"Just do as I say and you might make it to Xandar alive." She said, helping him sit up. He was able to carefully shrug off his jacket on his own, but he needed help pulling his shirt up over his head. It took more effort than he really wanted to put into taking his clothes off, and now he definitely felt lightheaded.

"I just need you to sit up for a minute so I can wrap the new bandage--an actual bandage--around your waist." Gamora said.

"Okay." Peter agreed, steadying himself by placing one hand on her shoulder and the other on the table.

To her credit, she did work pretty quickly and carefully. But, that didn't make the lightheaded feeling go away, even as he laid back down. He tried his hardest to keep his eyes open, to just focus on Gamora, but it was harder than he expected.

“G’mora, I don't think I can stay awake anymore.” Peter said, his eyes drooping.

“Peter, no, stay awake—don’t close your eyes, just stay with me.” Gamora spoke quickly, gently patting his cheek to try and get him to stay awake.

“Just wake me up... when we get there.” Peter said softly, finally closing his eyes. He heard Gamora frantically calling out his name a few times before he couldn’t hear anything and everything went black.

—

Everything went white at some point. Peter was pretty sure that meant he’d died--only he didn’t feel dead. He could kind of feel his fingers move, but not much else.

Peter forced his eyes open (slowly, gently), the bright room likely causing that white everything feeling. Gamora was seated beside the hospital bed, her hand tightly holding onto his. Her features were laced with concern, but when she met his eyes, the concern fell away.

“Peter?” Gamora asked.

He could really only offer a slight nod, but that was enough for Gamora to hug him tight. When he reached up to hug her back, he felt the tug of an IV in his arm, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Sorry." He rasped.

"Don't be sorry. I'm just glad you're alright." She replied, her hand cupping the back of his head. He closed his eyes and let himself enjoy her embrace for a few moments before she tugged away, letting him lay back down on the bed.

"So, what's the verdict on this mess?" Peter asked, gesturing vaguely to himself.

Gamora smiled then, running her fingers through the curls on his forehead.

"Two fractured ribs, two wounds that required a total of 103 stitches, a lot of blood loss, and a lot of luck." Gamora offered, making him smile.

"You guys at least finish the mission?"

"By some miracle." Gamora huffed, "After you passed out, I told Rocket and they did the best they could to finish up quickly, but it definitely wasn't the best mission we've done."

"I feel like that's my fault. Should've been more careful."

"You can't really blame that on yourself, Peter." Gamora said, "But, you definitely need to be more careful--I don't know how many times we need to tell you to slow down and stop being so reckless."

"I know." Peter replied.

"We can't lose you." Gamora said, then dropped her voice and met his eyes, "I can't lose you, Peter."

He chewed his lip, knowing it was hard for her to express her emotions. She preferred to keep her cards to her chest.

"Lucky for you, as much of a mess as I am, I'm not a mess that dies very easily." He smiled, to which she let out a halfhearted laugh. He knew it wasn't enough.

"Just trust me. I'm--"

"Reckless, insane, an idiot." Gamora finished, making him laugh (which hurt, but he didn't want to show her that), "But, I sort of like those qualities in you."

"I was gonna say 'I'm Star-Lord,' but okay." He huffed with a smile, "I'm glad you like those qualities. They're stickin' around for a while."

His smile grew when she took his hand again, causing her to smile in return. Peter would be lying if he said he didn't love her smile. It was a rare sight, and it was usually small or forced, but her genuine smile was everything he could ever need.

"Where's the rest of the team?" Peter asked curiously.

"They were supposed to be getting food, but something tells me that Rocket coerced them into stealing something or getting themselves into trouble." Gamora sighed.

"You could've gone with them." Peter replied.

She shook her head.

"I couldn't bring myself to leave you." She offered quietly.

Peter smiled then, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles.

"Go. I'll be fine here, promise." Peter smiled.

Peter could tell she was arguing with herself inwardly before she finally offered a quick nod and rose to her feet. She leaned over to kiss him, and he could feel his heart fluttering as soon as their lips touched. Something about her touch drove his heart insane.

"Can you bring me some food?" Peter asked when she tugged away.

"I'm not sure what you can eat with your injury." She replied, her hand resting on his arm.

Right. That.

"I'll ask, though." Gamora offered, rubbing his arm before letting go.

"Thanks. You're the best." He smiled up to her.

She rolled her eyes, but he caught her smile as she left his side, then the room.

He leaned his head back on the pillow, watching her walk by the window. She always held her head so high--not in a snooty way, but more in a strong-hearted way. Her curls bounced as she walked, and Peter knew that came with the way she swung her hips as she walked.

It was about time he told her he loved her--he just couldn't figure out how.

[get-this-girl-a-bucky]

Unwilling 4/? ||Mobster AU||

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: There’s a decision to be made but making it could come at the cost of your happiness either way.

Warnings: Nothing

Words: 1040

I’m so sorry, I took so long updating, my life has been hectic these last couple of weeks... And also it’s a bit shorter than the usual chapters but I’ll be uploading the next part either Thursday or Friday and I have some big plans for the next part

And also sorry for any spelling mistakes, the part has not been edited yet 

When you opened you’re eyes, you were surrounded by complete darkness, and the only thing you could distinguish was that you were lying on an unbelievably soft bed and what felt like silk bedding. You definitely weren’t at your apartment. You sat up trying to remember how you got here, when suddenly you felt movement next to you.

“Baby?” you hear a male voice say and the room was washed into a bright light that startled you so much so that you slipped of the side of the bed and landed on a fluffy rug on the floor.

“Shit” you the voice swear and heard his movements getting out of the bed while your eyes got used to the sudden bright light when you saw a very muscular man leaning next to. When your eyes adjusted and you saw who was in front of you, your last memories came back to you and sprang up with your hands gripping your hair, you had really hoped that it had just been a dream, a crazy messed up dream, but there you were in his house, in his bedroom. You breathing turned really short and erratic, leaving you feeling a bit lightheaded again. When you felt him behind you while placing his hands on your shoulder, lightly messaging them.

“Okay, baby, Listen you have to breathe or else you’ll faint again” he said into your one ear as he light message actually calming you down a bit that you began leaning back on him. You stayed like that, almost falling asleep again, for a while until you remembered exactly what was happening. You sprang away from him.

“No, no, no, no, I am NOT your baby, keep your hands off me” You said raising your right arm in front of for in case he moved closer again

“Baby listen to me, I know it’s a lot to take in but look down at your left hand” He said and your stare at him in disbelief and slowly lifted your hand into view, where you saw one of the biggest diamonds sitting on your ring finger as you let down your guard, Steve took the chance and wrapped his arm around you pulling you into an embrace “Your all mine, now and forever”

You struggle free with newly formed tears ready to spill from your eyes and move to the door picking up your jacket and shoes from the floor, you made it out the door, down the stairs and almost through the front door before his voice gripped you attention from the top of the stairs.

“And where do you think you’re going?” He said slowly descending the stairs

“Listen, I don’t know who you think you are and what type of crazy messed up life your living, but I will not be forced into it, I refuse” As you were talking menacingly made his way or to you

“Oh, you refuse, huh?” He asked with a devilish smile creeping up “What will you do?” you pause for a while genuinely taken a back with his question, your eyes locked when you pull off the insane sized ring off and slapped into his hand and opened the front door, walking out of the house slamming the door shut behind you

You made it to the drive way, which was filled with cars more expensive than probably everything you owned, when you hear the door opening again and him shouting after you “You’re going to regret this, sweetheart!” You stop in your tracks pausing for only a second before taking a breath and continued walking.

Looking around you had absolutely no idea where you were but you were not going back there so you kept on walking. You dug through your jacket for your phone only to see that it was dead.

After about 20 minutes you were only more loss than you were before and your feet were aching, also being the middle of the night you were slightly cold as well, your jacket doing nothing to shield you from the wind. You were just about to give up when a car stopped next to you; you turn and see Bucky staring at you.

“Get in” He says

“No, you’re just gonna take me back to him” you said and started walking again, hearing him follow beside you

“It wasn’t a question, doll, get in” You stopped and turn to him

“I’m quite capable of getting home myself, thank you”

“You sure? Cause you’re going the wrong direction” He said that half smile working its way back, you sigh and open the car door to get in “Good choice, we wouldn’t want anyone messing up that pretty face now would we?” He asked and started driving

“How’d you find me?” You ask

“You remember that day when I took you phone?” You nodded “I installed a tracker, boss’s orders”

“Yeah, that’s not creepy at all”

We arrived back at my apartment and as you got out of the car Bucky called my name and you turn back to face him, lifting an eyebrow.

“He’s really not as bad as he seems” He winks and drives away before you can even ask what he means by that.

When you walk into the door and you’re almost suffocated by Wanda throwing her arms around you

“Wanda”

“You were gone for two days; I thought something awful happened to you” She said holding on tighter

“It’s okay everything is over now” you said and hugged her back

 Bucky enters my office later that evening with his usual smirk on his face

“Did you get her home safe?” I ask

“Yeah just like you asked, boss” He said teasingly “Don’t you think that was maybe too fast?”

“Yeah probably, but she needs to know what she in for because like it or not she’s going to be here for as long as I want her here”

Bucky nods his head and leans against the wall “So what’s the plan?” He asks

I look him straight in the eyes and say “Whatever it takes” then focus my eyes back on the piece of jewellery on my desk briefly, take the ring in my hand and look Bucky straight in eye and nod my head giving him the signal.

He walks out and my focus goes back to the ring in my hands

“She will be mine”

TAG LIST

@sick-twisted-death @aekr @zlixlle @ispendmoretimehere @crazy-fangirl25  koizorahan

[thoughtsbytheredmoon]

the end of a chapter

What kind of barely 21-year-old becomes Tony Stark's personal intern AND moves into the Avengers Tower in one day? Me, that's who.

If you told literally *any* past version of me that I would be living in the Avengers Tower, I probably would have laughed in your face and told you to come up with a more believable lie than that. But, no. It's not a lie, it's just my life. And yes, I am still freaking out.

So How Did I Get Here?

Turns out I was a pretty okay student in high school. I mean, only above mediocre grades and a dazzling personality can get your foot in the door at Stark Industries. Or at least that's my best guess. Funny thing is, the teacher that recommended me in the first place hardly spoke to me in the four years I attended Midtown High. Weird, right?

So anyway, it was an unsuspecting Wednesday (good ol' hump day) when I got the letter in the mail. At first, I thought it was junk mail - the kind of junk mail colleges send every high schooler who takes the SAT. But then I did a double take; and I remember this because I almost got whiplash. Sure enough, in the top left corner of the letter sat the Stark Industries logo.

I think you can all sympathize with what I did next.

I ran up 4 flights of stairs at mach speed only for my keys to jam in the lock of my aunt's apartment. I was making so much noise, Aunt May pulled open the door herself. I could tell she was going to yell at me (it was the look in her eye), so I shoved the letter in her face, successfully stopping her words before they could even reach her tongue.

"What is this?" She asked. Now read that again, but in the most dull voice you can imagine.

"It's a letter from Stark Industries! You know, the huge tower smack dab in the middle of Manhattan?" At this point, I can't stand her bored look or the anticipation anymore, so I push past her and flop on the couch. With shaking hands, I finally open it.

The letter says one of my high school teachers strongly recommended me for one of Stark Industries' creative teams and that if I was interested, I had an interview already set up for that Friday, no response necessary. Needless to say, I flipped out.

As a kid who grew up in Queens, working in the (former) Stark Tower was a dream after Tony Stark announced he was Iron Man. (He's my favorite superhero btw.) It was a dream a lot of us wouldn't even dare attempt to attain. There was no way I was going to pass up the opportunity.

So I went to the interview that Friday - beautiful building by the way. Gorgeous. When I walked in, I was expecting a group of people waiting their turn in the lobby as well, but the sweet woman at the front desk pointed me towards a little room. It didn’t look like anyone was there but me.

And then Tony and Pepper THEMSELVES walked in. I thought I was going to die in that very moment. (Genuinely. I went a little lightheaded and my ears started ringing.) But they were super nice and told me they’d seen some of my work from school and that they were very impressed. (Around this point, I started to wonder if it was standard procedure for Tony Stark and Pepper Potts to interview random people themselves.)

Almost as soon as the thought arose, Tony pulled out this really cool tablet and started bringing up my specs. They knew I had powers. (Which is kind of insane, because I thought I was being careful about using them in public...) Anyways, Tony cut to the chase and said that he thinks I’d be "valuable to SI" and as an extra hand to help him out with ~superhero things~ since I understood both worlds.

It took everything in me not to melt into a sobbing puddle on their nice, polished board room floor. This was way more than I thought would be asked of me when I came here. I thought at the most, I'd be working as a junior copywriter, not Tony Stark's personal right hand gal.

I wound up telling them that I was beyond excited and that it would be a dream to work alongside them, but that I would have to think about it first. (Before you yell at me, just keep reading, you'll understand.) Then Tony butted in again and brought up the fact that he knows I lost my parents a few years ago and that I’m living elsewhere... and given the placement of my home, money might be an issue.

Embarrassed as I was that he even knew that stuff, money *was* an issue, so I asked how much I would be getting paid since I wanted to help my aunt out, and in the most Tony-esque way, he sniffed and basically said I could afford to buy an actual home at the end of the year if I wanted to with the pay I’d be making. And if that wasn’t enough, I could have room and board there at the Avengers Tower. I would have a room to myself and food would always be available if that’s what I chose.

I couldn't even believe the offer he was giving me. It was a no brainer to me - I would love to live in the tower, but I knew I needed to at least talk to Aunt May about it, so they let me go back home and think it over.

So you remember when I said my parents died? Yeah, my aunt isn't really my aunt. She's my deceased godfather's wife who let me stay with her and her nephew, Peter. So, I told Pete and Aunt May about the SI offer that night. They were ecstatic and said I should definitely take the job. Then, May told me that I should seriously consider staying at the Avengers Tower. (not because she wanted me gone, quite the opposite actually, but because the train ride from our apartment to the tower was long and dangerous, especially if I were to stay late nights.

In the end, I decided to accept the job and room at the Avengers Tower. And ta-da! That's how I wound up here. Now that you're all caught up, I think I should head to bed. I've got a long day ahead of me tomorrow and I'm not even fully packed. *insert stressed out emoji here*

Catch you guys next time on MOVE IN DAY!

[nidawia]

Chronically ill.

I'm having a day I can't pretend to be strong. Having a day of breakdown and tears streaming down my face. A day of depression, sadness, anger, self pitying, self hating and exhaustion. Why? Because of my chronic illness. I have IBD. I have ulcerative colitis. I also have a syndrome in which I am more likely to faint, get lightheaded and run out of breath more easily than others due to my blood pressure randomly dropping. Some days I can't even get out of bed due to everything spinning and I'm feeling nauseous. Like, it's REALLY bad. I can't MOVE an inch and I can't have my eyes OPEN if I want to feel somewhat okay. It takes me at least 3-4 hours before I can slightly move around while laying down and have my eyes open. Then my IBD. It's honestly tearing me apart. I don't even know where to begin with this disease. Probably started around 3 years ago. I got diagnosed last year when I was 18 years old. I've been destroyed mentally, physically, socially, emotionally by it. Several times over. Right now I'm refusing to be on any type of hospital medication even if I'm in the middle of having a flare up. Why am I doing that? Because I don't fully believe in the doctors ways anymore. They "treat" your symptoms - more accurately; they hide them. You get addicted to take the medication. They don't try (at least the vast majority of them) to go to the bottom of things what might have CAUSED it. They don't look at the individual. They see the symptoms, they see the medicine for the symptoms and they give it to us. Money, money, money. That's all it's about. I, however, am trying the natural way. I take some "medication" - all natural for us though. Special tea. Vitamins. Liver pills. Etc. and then I'm on an EXTREMELY strict diet. No gluten for a year. No dairy products. No garlic or onions of any kind. No sugar. No citrus fruits or veggies. No soy. The list goes on and on. I have the most boring ass diet. But, two weeks ago I can tell y'all that I haven't felt so normal in over 3 years. No pain, no blood, no gas or weird noises from my bowel, lots of ENERGY, and I was genuinely happy to actually feel normal. I had forgotten what it felt like. Now, though... I'm having a setback. And I need to rant about it. Short backstory though: I should not have either IBD or my syndrome concerning my blood pressure. They've been triggered by a vaccine I got 3-4 years ago. All my problems started after that. They didn't tell us that people that have an asthmatic parent, they're immune system aren't as strong against the side effects of the vaccine. And guess what? My dad is an asthmatic! And what are one of the things I've gotten? An autoimmune disease! Coincidence? I think the hell not. However, somehow, I've been blessed to have a partner that loves me and supports me and wants to be with me for the rest of his life. We met online and we've met and been together in real life as well. We've known each other for like 10 months and he's absolutely amazing and I love him. But I'm so afraid of holding him back in life due to my fucked up condition. I don't want to do that to him. I want him to be happy. But selfishly I also want him all to myself. Moving on, today I've been so sad. And I'm gonna just copy paste a rant I gave a friend of mine: Even if this setback is hella much smaller than what I've suffered from before, it didn't stop me from having a breakdown. Something I actually haven't had for a very long time But I couldn't stop it today. I've lost my energy, I just feel completely drained. I want to sleep, but can't. I wanna do so many things, but I can't. I blame my sickness but then I inevitably, like all other times, blame myself. I really hate this though. Like I've said so many times before. But I can't help but let all negativity slip back into my mind. I hate the fact that I'll never be normal. Ever. Hate that I've become a victim to a CHRONIC illness I shouldn't even have. It's CHRONIC. I'll never ever heal from it. I may think I do, I may work towards it and I may hope to be "the one that got cured from an incurable disease", but it'll never happen. I can never be fully cured. I can never be fully normal ever again. My life is bound and restricted to my illness. I have days, like this one, that I succumb to my dark thoughts. Become depressed, sad, angry, exhausted of the fight and just lay in my bed crying all day. Start hating myself for being weak. For being a crybaby. I'm in a constant battle between "no, I'm not gonna let this stupid shit control my life, I'm gonna live it to the fullest and do whatever I want" and "I just wanna give up the fight. Take all medication from the hospital, destroy my body further. Shut the world out and be done with it." I lose myself. Can't stop the tears from rolling down. I'm living in constant fear and tension. My body can fuck up at any time. It has done that soooo much in the past. Destroyed me inside and out. I hate myself. Being weak. Ugly. Negative. Scared. Not confident. Closed off. Not easy to like or get along with. Not funny. Not smart. Nothing, really. I don't even know what my fiancé sees in me. I've been so scared to get close to anyone, to let anyone in. There's been so many reasons for me to avoid a romantic relationship. Been reasons to keep everyone on a distance. Reasons no one will truly understand if they aren't in the same position as I am. But I love him more than anything and more than I've loved anyone else. We complement and complete each other but I can't help to feel that I should, in fact, push him away... I love him so much and I just want him to be truly happy and live his life to the fullest, exactly the way he wants it with no regrets. I feel like... like I'll only hold him back. I don't want him to have to be tied to me and my never ending problems, the restrictions on my life. I don't want him to miss out on anything... on all the things that someone else could give to him. I don't want him to ever have to regret anything due to me holding him back. He's beyond amazing and supportive of my situation, but I cant help but think about all of this. He's the only one I can see myself loving for the rest of my life,and ofc he loves me too and feels the same in that way cuz otherwise he would've never proposed to me but... if he could be happier with someone else... I don't want him to miss out on it. That's how much I love him. I'd be prepared to let him go, even if my whole body and mind screams the opposite and it'll tear me apart every single day and be worse of a pain than anything else I've ever been through - I'd let him go if it meant for him to be the happiest he could possibly be I can't stop thinking about it. Can't stop thinking that maybe I'm just being selfish... I don't know. I feel like I don't know anything anymore. One wrong step and it all comes back like a slap to the face with a brick. That's what has happened. I've felt great, better than I've felt for over THREE FREAKING YEARS, took one wrong step and now I'm bleeding and in pain again I'm so goddamn sick of this So sick of wanting to actually fight it and live life but as soon as I stand up everything goes black. Or I'm in so much pain I can't even get out of bed. This sucks so much. *** Also, my setback is due to me trying eating chicken again and my body reacting to it. Since I've been stable for almost a month with no bleeding or pain in trying to expand my diet, which didn't work too well this time. My current diet consists of this: Oatmeal with oat milk. Sweet potatoes, normal potatoes (need to be boiled and then used the day after) Mango, bananas, pears, watermelon, blueberries, raspberries, avocado Parsley Salmon, white fish Asparagus, carrots (needs to be cooked so they soften up and are easy for the digestive system) Almond milk Max 3 eggs every other day and they have to be runny Maple syrup, honey "Clean herbs" - I have to season everything myself cuz I need to know EXACTLY what's in my food. Everything needs to be organic and of good quality. The only dairy product I'm allowed to use is real organic butter. Olive oil in only allowed to use cold and drizzle on top of things. So yeah. I get really depressed about the insane restrictions on my food, too. Can never go out and enjoy restaurants and probably never will be able to either... there's so much more I want to say and rant about but this is long enough. If anyone would ever read it all.... thank you for hearing me out.