They’ve always been there, folding themselves around the curl of your neck, your wrists, your ribs.
Hush now- can you hear them?
Tony’s fingers tapping binary over your hips, his mouth pressing a warm, wicked smile against yours.
Steve’s lips at your ear, whispering down your throat and into your veins and setting them alight.
Natasha’s tongue sliding around your fingers, curling them into fists.
They are in your bones, they are fighting, tooth and nail, and they grin at your bloodied hands around the thick slip of a knife.
They are there, always- leaning against your doorframe with empty hands.
Thor, saluting with two fingers. Clint, with his razor-grin cutting slices off of your skin. Bruce, slotting his teeth into place. Loki, wrapping his legs around your waist and dipping his fingers down, down, down.
They are your downward spiral. They are your ruin, your chaos, and they will rebuild you from broken bits of old bodies. They are your downfall, your destruction from the inside-out.
They are smoke- breathe them in.
lickedy-crick, crickedy snap. we are the beasties curled in your lap.
snicker-snick, slick-slide, slam. we are the jagged and we are the damned.
High school has never been fun.
But with Thor missing since the weekend, Tony refusing to graduate, Steve sneaking off every lunchtime, Clint growing ‘medicine’ in his backyard, and Loki turning up to class with bruises that he won’t talk about, it’s going to get a lot more interesting.
love was kind
for a time
now it aches and it makes me blind-
He watched through the sight as the body was wheeled away on a stretcher and as the crowd tried to console the distraught doctor.
A disappointed look creeped onto his face.
“Not today.” he whispered, a tint of sadness in his voice.
He watched and waited until they all left. Then he got the message, his phone buzzing angrily in his pocket.
Come. Now. They’ve gone, I’m getting tired of waiting.
He carefully packed away the sniper rifle, flung the bag over his shoulder and cooly made his way downstairs.
Once he was out, he flew across the street and found the building. Easy enough.
He entered casually, as to not attract attention and he made his way to the roof. He kicked open the door and there he was, waiting.
“I was beginning to think you’d never make it Moran.” Moriarty teased.
The plan had worked perfectly. Moriarty knew that the great Sherlock Holmes wouldn’t bother to check if he were really dead if his pet’s life was at stake. And now he was dead and he was alive.
“You brought me a suit right? This one is starting to get sticky.” Moriarty asked, a slight hint of displeasure in his voice.
A smile crossed Moran’s lips and he nodded. He unzipped the bag on his shoulder and pulled out a clean suit; a black, clean cut jacket and trousers, white shirt and black tie. He flung them at his master. Moriarty caught them and a gleeful smile started to spread across his face, his eyes twinkling.
“Now. Let us go and have some fun. Shall we?”