pinch-hit: lyrical Friday

[tigriswolf]

Here's the last pinch-hit for the week: lyrical Friday. Any theme you want, so long as the prompt is song lyrics. Have fun!

Comments

[tigriswolf]

Teen Wolf (TV), Hale family,



Soon it will be over and buried with our past
We used to play outside when we were young
And full of life and full of love.

[tigriswolf]

Teen Wolf (TV), Derek/Stiles,


Now wait, wait, wait for me
Please hang around
I'll see you when I fall asleep

[tigriswolf]

Bourne Legacy, Aaron Cross,


I was dead when I woke up this morning
I'll be dead before the day is done

[tigriswolf]

Political Animals, TJ, they don’t make glass slippers

[tigriswolf]

Avengers movieverse, Steve/Bucky,

you got the hood here snowed
but you can’t fool me
we both know who you are

Filled

[aunt-zelda.livejournal.com]

Steve rolls over, head throbbing, and feels the cold burn of snow on his cheek. He starts, scrambling up, and immediately regrets it: the pain in his head pulses and he doubles over, groaning.

He hears a hoarse sound of amusement somewhere above him. Steve looks around just in time to see a heavy hiking boot coming towards his face.

Steve lays flat on the ground, staring at the ceiling. It’s a wooden ceiling, caving in slightly, letting in snow and the cold. Soon the ceiling is obscured by the form of a man, hooded and masked, towering above Steve. He places his boot on Steve’s chest, levels a rifle at Steve’s head.

Steve stays very still. Is this really how his life is going to end? Somehow he’d always imagined something different, being caught in an explosion while evacuating civilians, fighting Red Skull, something.

A radio crackles at the man’s side, orders in a language Steve doesn’t understand – Russian? Maybe.

The man sighs, exasperated, and withdraws, leaning against the wall. He begins to dismantle the rifle.

Steve cautiously raises his head, watches the man work. The precise, practiced movements seem automatic, and strangely familiar …

The man turns to reach for the rifle’s case, and his mask slips slightly.

Steve gasps.

The man turns, tugging his mask up, but the damage is done. The little of his face that Steve can make out is knotted with fury and rage. His hand twitches to the pieces of rifle, then steady.

Steve opens his mouth and the man is on him, knife in hand, pressing against Steve’s throat.

“Don’t.” Bucky growls.

Steve stares into his eyes – eyes he used to see every day, eyes that haunt him in his dreams, eyes he thought he’d never see again – and closes his mouth.

Bucky presses the knife just hard enough to break Steve’s skin, then scrambles back, cleaning the knife and sheathing it somewhere inside his jacket.

Steve blinks rapidly, slowly sits up, and waits for whatever’s about to happen next.

Bucky packs the rifle, collects a bag of gear, and paces restlessly. The radio crackles again and Bucky nods, shouldering the bag. He glances at Steve briefly and then forcibly looks away.

Then he strides out into the snow, for a helicopter in the distance.

Steve stands up, takes a few steps towards the hole in the wall of the shack, and Bucky turns, leveling a pistol at him. His hand is steady, his aim is true – there’s no way he’d miss at this range.

Steve backs up, hands in the air, and watches Bucky become a speck in the distance.

[misachan.livejournal.com]

Avengers MCU, Phil/Clint/Natasha, Hey, I heard you like the wild ones....

Fill

[aunt-zelda.livejournal.com]

They approached him together. He can’t imagine it any other way, can’t imagine Natasha in his arms without Clint behind him, can’t imagine tying Clint to the bed without Natasha correcting him on the knots.

It was after a mission, a particularly stressful one, where Coulson was honestly concerned that they might not make it out alive. He kept his voice steady over the coms, told them which routes to use, where the guards were stationed, and, as the evening wore on, where the explosions were going off. He wanted to be there on the ground with them, not staring at monitors miles away in a S.H.I.E.L.D. safehouse. He was incredibly concerned for their safety, terrified that they wouldn’t survive.

They heard it in his voice, though he’d tried so hard to hide it. When they arrived a little past 4am, Natasha limping and Clint covered in bleeding cuts, they’d told him so.

“We almost died out there,” Clint had growled.

Then Natasha had flung herself at Coulson, and he’d staggered against a wall for support, and she was kissing him, and he could taste the explosions on her skin.

Then Clint was there, steadying them, tugging Coulson out of his jacket and fumbling with the buttons on his shirt.

Coulson wanted to berate them for not going to medical, taking care of their injuries, but they’d had worse before and knew their limits. If this was what they wanted, he certainly wasn’t going to object.

Natasha divested him of his tie and belt and Clint knelt, smirking at the Captain America underwear before pulling it down.

“Put that smart mouth to good use,” Coulson breathed, his hand finding Clint’s hair and tugging.

Natasha was pulling off the disguise from earlier, bloodstained – not her blood, thank god – and smelling of smoke. Coulson had seen her naked before, on monitors and in medical, but this was the first time he’d seen her where it was her choice, not for a mission or a doctor.

Clint flicked his tongue just right and Coulson moaned, pulled Clint’s hair a bit too hard and Clint rutted against his leg in response.

Natasha pressed against Coulson’s back, biting at his neck and shoulder, leaving marks Coulson was going to wear for days to come. He tilted his head, caught her about to bite, and got a bloodied lip.

They didn’t make it to the bed at the back of the safehouse until much later, and after showering together and raiding the fridge. Then they slept, tangled in each other’s limbs, just as the sun was rising outside.

[eggplantlady.livejournal.com]

Any, any,

In the dream she came to me on wings of red and gold
Saying leap, my love, and let your heart unfold
Let the fire take you on a journey to your core
Then raise your wings to heaven once more
Surrender to the fire, surrender to the flame
Ascending ever higher, from your ashes you will rise again
(Kate Price, The Phoenix (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FeBDFyLvP3E))

[eggplantlady.livejournal.com]

Any, any cat character, The Jellicle Moon is shining bright

no fill but...

[poestheblackcat.livejournal.com]

<3!!! *points at icon and username*

[radondoran.livejournal.com]

Any, any,

I don't know where I'm gonna live
I don't know if I'll find a place
I'd have to think about it some
And that I do not wish to face

[radondoran.livejournal.com]

Any, any,

Can there be any day but this,
Though many suns to shine endeavor?
We count three hundred, but we miss:
There is but one, and that one ever.

[katleept.livejournal.com]

any, any(/any), any Labyrinth (David Bowie movie) song

[katleept.livejournal.com]

any, any(/any), any part of any Adam Ant song

[katleept.livejournal.com]

any, any(/any), I can be your hero

[katleept.livejournal.com]

Once Upon A Time, Rumpel/Belle, I'm gonna make this place your home

[katleept.livejournal.com]

BtVS(/Dawson's Creek), Faith/(I can do her with several, but not with anybody -- not Buffy or Xander, for instance -- Possibilities I'm open to include Spike, Dawn, Dawson's Creek's Dawson, Angel, Cordelia. If unsure, just ask.),

Ain’t no use in trying to slow me down
‘Cause you’re running with the fastest girl in town

Ain’t you baby?
Well I told you I was crazy.

[livingtolaugh.livejournal.com]

Pretty Little Liars, Jenna(/Toby),

Ophelia was a tempest cyclone
A god damned hurricane
Your common sense
Your best defense
Lay wasted and in vain (Ophelia, Natalie Merchant)

[livingtolaugh.livejournal.com]

any, any, There is beauty in hardship,
There are poems in grief,
There are trials we must go through,
Though they may shake our beliefs. (Assemblage 23, Damaged)

[livingtolaugh.livejournal.com]

Terra Nova, Lucas + Skye (+ Nathaniel),

You're such an inspiration for the ways that I will never ever choose to be
Oh so many ways for me to show you how your savior has abandoned you (A Perfect Circle, Judith)

[mangacrack.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, any Winchester, Lying with the gun across his chest
Pretending
He's heartless

[crearealidad.livejournal.com]

any, any

she bends her breath
when she talks to him
i can see her features begin to blur
as she pours herself
into the mold he made for her
and for everything he does
she has a way to rationalize
she says he don't mean what he do
she tells me he called to apologize

Fill, Death Note, Light/Misa + Rem

[blondebabe800.livejournal.com]

Rem doesn't know much about human women or human relationships, but even she can tell that there's something off about Misa's relationship with Light Yagami. He doesn't treat her with the least bit of affection or care. Instead, he flip-flops between ordering her around and ignoring her completely.

But Misa accepts it--revels in it, even. And day by day, as she grows more infatuated with Light, Rem can tell that something within Misa is changing as she spends more time trying to please her new boyfriend.

Rem wants to speak up, to tell Misa that this isn't right. That she needs to break this off. But Rem is a shinigami. What can she know about human love? For her, love is death. So she holds her tongue and watches helplessly. She'd do anything for Misa--but keeping her from Light, that was the one thing she couldn't do.

[mangacrack.livejournal.com]

MCU, Loki (/Thor), He was fragile
And frozen
When the bullet took away his friend
And now he's somehow
More broken

[mangacrack.livejournal.com]

Teen Wolf, Derek/Stiles,

He's pulling his weapon to his side
Loading it full of his goodbyes
Holding an enemy across the line

untitled - gennish, PG, future!fic, mentions of character death

[tigriswolf]

Wolves don't mate for life, no matter what Scott says. Stiles has done the research; wolves are serial monogamists.

No matter how the pack pokes fun at ‘Mom and Dad,’ Stiles has always known the way this would end. He loves Beacon Hills, he does – but he can’t stay. Not for Derek. Not even for Dad.

.

This isn’t for the good of the pack. This isn’t because of the blood soaked into every inch of Beacon Hills, or the stench of smoke always on the breeze. This isn’t because of the looks he still gets when he buys groceries, the mutters he shouldn’t be able to hear but can.

This is because Stiles has spent twenty years putting everyone before himself and he’s so damned tired. If he doesn’t get out now, Beacon Hills will kill him.

Part of him wants the rest. He needs it.

But most of him remembers how hard his mother fought to live, how hard his father tried to keep breathing, and he knows that he can’t disappoint them by giving up.

.

Stiles will miss them all, Derek and his puppies and even Deaton. He’ll miss the house he grew up in and the meadow where he scattered both his parents’ ashes. He’ll miss the home Derek has turned the one-time Hale wreck into.

The pack are staying close; the furthest away is Lydia at Stanford.

Nowhere is too far and Stiles hasn’t set any plan in stone. He’s got more than enough money and a spark stirring his blood, and his parents had never gone further than Arizona, though his mom was fascinated with Australia.

So that’s the plan, then.

.

He says goodbye beneath a full moon. Derek doesn’t ask him to stay. Stiles wouldn’t have if he did. Scott hugs him too hard, Allison kisses his cheek, Erica punches him in the shoulder, Boyd claps him on the back, Lydia pats him on the cheek, and Isaac and Jackson shake his hand.

As Stiles passes over the territory line, a single howl follows him down the highway.

.

He doesn’t turn around. He may come back one day and he has no idea what will be waiting – but he can’t stay a moment longer. Too much blood is soaked into the ground, and too much of it is his. It’s leave or die.

Part of him wants to stay, will always want to stay. But the windows are down, letting in a night wind that doesn’t stink of smoke and old blood, and he knows that this is for the best.

Maybe he’ll be back. Maybe he won’t. He doesn’t know. But he does know that he’s already breathing easier, and that there’s already tension fading from his muscles, and whether or not he goes back – he throws back his head and lets a howl echo over the horizon.

Whether he’s with them or not, they’re his pack. He always knew he was leaving, but he’ll always love Derek.

He howls again, breathing smoke-free air, and there’s a world waiting for him where his blood hasn’t soaked into the ground.

[mangacrack.livejournal.com]

any vampire fandom, any,

Sweating
And shaking
Lying with her hands across her chest
She wakes with
Her cravings

She Craves (Carmilla)

[rett-chan.livejournal.com]

Laura wakes with tears in her eyes, trembling all over, a name falling plaintive and desperate from her lips.

Carmilla, Carmilla, my dearest friend, where are you?

No, not Carmilla. Countess Mircalla is dead, she is gone forever and ever. She was a monster and I was her unfortunate victim.

"Carmilla," she whispers, and sobs.

She is sweating, shaking, weeping. Every night has been like this, since the monster (her dearest friend) was ended. She feels...

Of late, she has been languid all through the daylight hours. Of late, she has carefully avoided all expressions of divine faith; she finds they make her uncomfortable.

If Father is content to ignore these things, she certainly will not say anything of the things she feels in the deep dark of night. Sometimes she dreams of Carmilla... stabbed over and over, screaming until her head is ripped from her shoulders, twitching even after as flames engulf her.

Tonight, she did not have that dream, but she feels... it, more strongly than ever.

Tonight, she can hold herself back no longer. It is time.

She pads silently down the halls, blending in with the shadows. Father is awake, contemplating a knife in his hand, but she passes without him noticing. Finally, she slips outside. She feels...

She runs barefoot through the forest, taking no notice of the sticks and stones that penetrate her feet. She needs...

She finds a small cottage with a thatched roof and dim windows. There is an axe and a pile of wood just outside. She steps up to the door, and knocks.

The man who answers has dark eyes and a bushy black beard. She stumbles and clings to the doorframe, and looks at the man with beseeching eyes. "There's something out there. A... a demon! Y-You have to believe..."

He looks at her dirty, bleeding feet. He ushers her inside. She hesitates, frozen still and trembling until he says, "Quickly now, get in."

He has a daughter, vibrant and beautiful, sitting by the fire and knitting. She almost looks like Carmilla, this girl, although the look in her eyes is different.

Laura sinks down onto the rug beside the fire, still shaking while her eyes remain wide as though with terror. The other girl looks at her with open curiosity, but neither of them say anything.

"Stay here," commands the man with the bushy black beard. He walks outside with a determined stride, pausing only to pick up a rifle by the door.

"Hello," says the girl who almost looks like Carmilla, smiling tentatively. "I'm Ruth."

"I'm Alura. I..." She looks down, anxiously tangles her hands in her skirt.

"That's pretty. Ah... Alura, are you alright?"

"Yes," she whispers. "I just... you remind me of someone. I miss her dearly, but I haven't been able to tell anyone."

"Really? Why...?"

"She was my dearest friend in all the world, even though she frightened me sometimes. Even now, when I know I can never see her again, she commands my fate."

"Alura?" The girl sounds concerned. Laura studies her hands closely, refusing to look at anything else.

The girl kneels down beside her and slowly wraps her in a tentative embrace. Laura rests her head on the girl's shoulder and breathes a tormented sigh. "I'm afraid. I need her so much, but she cannot...

Help me, please."

[garnet-words.livejournal.com]

any, any, This is it, the apocalypse

Fill: Les Miserables, Jehan

[drabblewriter.livejournal.com]

Jehan wrote a poem about the apocalypse once. It was all angels declaring, fire raining, and mountains crumbling. Back then, he didn’t know what the end of the world felt like. Now…

There are no angels, only the promises of doom from the National Guard, the sounds of his friends dying. Fire is everywhere. Parts of the barricade smolder, and the flare of muskets firing is endless. Their mountain, their barricade, crumbles under relentless canon fire.

Bloody and terrified, Jehan lets Combeferre drag him to a door, watches as the building’s inhabitants see them come and close the shutters. He bangs desperately, helplessly at the door, knowing they will not come. Knowing this is the end.

[mangacrack.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Sam/Gabriel, A smudge of ash across the ground
An undelivered message
All that remains is memory