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snapnov4 · 8 months

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i was made for lovin' you, baby!

synopsis: jjk men falling in love with you

wc: 1.7k

a/n: vela returns from a victorious (not intended) year long hiatus and very solemnly offers you the headcanons she's been desperately cooking up for way too long, enjoy <3 don't forget to reblog!

✰ kento doesn't even realize he's in love with you until he's making the two of you dinner. you're sprawled out on his couch, talking about your recent mission. the two of you aren't even dating. you just end up together at the end of every day. it all feels so intimate. as he listens to you talk, he notices he’s picking out the parts you don't like, setting them to the side. he remembers when he was a kid, and his mother told him food was a labor of love. he recalls that bakery he used to frequent when he was still working a regular job, how the smell of the bread and sweets was comforting, and how the girl who worked at the counter always had a fresh loaf for him. as he's sitting across from you at his dinner table that’s only big enough for two, he feels like his world is shifting on his axis a bit.

kento’s always enjoyed listening to you talk; much to gojo’s dismay, you're the only person nanami could listen to for hours. you're talking so vibrantly, moving your hands to illustrate actions, and he feels terrible about the fact that he can't hear anything you're saying. instead, he's thinking of the lunches you bring for him, the way your pinky touches his ever so slightly, like some silly school kids. he thinks of how you rest your head on his shoulder when you're stuck on a long commute from a mission; he thinks of your shoes by his at the door, a spare coat on his rack, an extra cursed tool in his closet. he thinks of your easy smiles and lively laughs. he thinks of how you easily fall against him no matter how you feel, whether it be a fit of uncontrollable laughter or a collapse after a long day. you're not dating; no one even thinks you're dating, but nanami’s heart practically swells when you seek him out through the day, placing a hand over his paperwork and telling him to take a break. he thinks of how you always kiss him on the cheek when you leave and always remember to text him that you've gotten home safely. if you're not so tired that you're sprawled on his couch with a blanket he's saved for you. he thinks about how, if he stayed working that awful job, he'd never have this, never have you, in your own unique way. he wasn't sure why he kept being a sorcerer; he just presumed that he’d work until he died. however, sitting across from you, talking animatedly about some shenanigan yuuji has wrapped you into, he feels content. it's almost like this could mean something; maybe his life is truly just a cycle, all leading to an uneventful death, but with you by his side, he thinks, it feels worth it.

✰ toji is not in love with you, or at least that's what he says. however, he realizes he may be that fond of you on a quiet evening. toji never expected to find himself so soft and domestic. he'd liked you because of your take-no-shit attitude; when he met you in some dark bar some months ago, watching you turn down every suitor who came your way, he accepted the challenge. he'd find you at least once a week, always in the same spot, and he's the only guy you let buy you drinks, the only one allowed to sling an arm around your shoulders. you made him wait for it. but now, months later, you let him wrap his arms around you without a word, and you're so quiet and calm, completely and utterly relaxed, and it's so good. toji’s hands are far from clean, he's far from the kind of upstanding guy he thinks you truly deserve, but you lay in his arms so easily, as if you couldn't care less what he's done. you drag your finger across his scars. you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth without recoiling at the feeling of scar tissue. you're almost too good to be true. he thinks of all the times you've patched him up, brows knitted in careful concentration, telling him, “this might sting,” even though he'd walked in practically unaffected by the injury in the first place. the way you forced him to tell you what he did for a living, and even though he didn't spare the gritty details, you still seemed not to care, as long as he was coming back safe. he's come to expect you to be standing at the door, sitting at the table, or lying on the couch when he gets home. right now, you're lying in his arms, completely unaware of just how much he loves you and loves this. your hand is in his, silently twiddling with his fingers as your eyes focus on whatever movie or tv show you've taken an interest in now. he decides he’ll leave it all behind for you. all of it. when he finishes this next job, he’ll buy a ring. then he’ll get a regular job, and finally, he’ll be happy.

✰ satoru realizes he's in love with you on a seemingly ordinary day. he's finished work for the day, or rather, for the last two days. he hasn't slept in three, and his head is starting to kill him, even with his reversed cursed technique. right now, he only wants to get home, eat something sweet, and collapse in bed. when he walks into his usually quiet and organized apartment, he realizes quite a few things. there's a bag of that mochi from that place in sendai that he loves, and a note beside it reads, “the kids and i picked these up for you!” he recognizes your handwriting, messily scrawled as if you were in a hurry. next, he notices that every blanket (except for his, he silently hopes) is spread across the floor in the living room, nestled in what seems like the coziest pile ever is you and the kids. megumi is on your left, and tsumiki is on your right. the three of you are sleeping so soundly that he almost wants to kill every higher-up for pulling him away from you, from this, from his family. as he looks at you nestled between megumi and tsumiki, he realizes that's exactly where he wants you to be.

the three of you have been knocked out for a while; your limbs tangled and blankets moved. after showering quickly, he finds out that his blanket was not exempt from the fort, but he doesn't even mind as he makes his way back to the living room, scooting in next to a sleeping megumi, and he watches for a bit. studies the way your chest rises and falls, the way you so easily let the kids relax against you, the way your mouth hangs open so hilariously that he wishes he'd snapped a photo while he was still up. he feels his heart swell immensely when he finally does lay down, and megumi nestles his face into his shoulder, and you feeling the sudden movement, throw your arm across him. satoru never thought he could feel this soft. the privilege of meaning something to you, to these kids, is better than any sorcerer grade, any title, anything. when he settles down, his arm so long he can reach all the way over the three of you. he recognizes the sock you're wearing. it's black and probably way too expensive; if he squints a bit, he can almost see the custom embroidered “GS” on every piece of clothing he owns (clan habits die hard). he can't stop the soft smile that spreads across his face. of course, you love him; you're wearing one of his socks.

✰ suguru isn't the kind of guy to be surprised by his own feelings. at least before you, he wasn't. however, he finds you surprise him every day; every little habit of yours implants itself in his brain. he could spend hours just watching you do the most mundane tasks, but when he truly realizes he's in love with you, it’s early one morning. he's sitting on his bed, watching you get ready at the vanity he bought just for you, half of it your makeup and the other half various products he puts in his hair. he feels infatuated with you. your entire routine is done with so much care and attention that he can't help it. he's been watching you get ready every morning for the better part of two months. but what really gets him is the way you've changed your routine to involve him. a small kiss to his lips every morning, setting your alarm earlier so you really can stay in bed for “five more minutes,” drinking your coffee at home because he makes it the best. always asking him, which shirt looks better? what color should I wear? rattling off all your daily tasks, turning to see suguru holding your keys, or your wallet, or your umbrella right as you begin to ask where it is. and most recently, indulging him by picking a vanity, after you complained about being tired of doing your makeup standing up in his bathroom and how the drawer you've been keeping your products in was starting to overflow. geto’s obsessed with watching you do your makeup, sitting behind you on the bed, quietly admiring the way your hand moves in practiced steady strokes. he loves the way you silently curse if you mess up your wing, he loves the way you still suck your cheeks in to do your blush, he loves the way you sit in front of the mirror silently debating on wearing your hair up or down or maybe a mix of both. he loves how you apply lip gloss, the last step of your routine. always the last step, because the goodbye kiss at the front door leaves more of it on him than on you. he watches with a soft smile and sticky lips as you reapply your gloss in the mirror in the entryway, smiling when you catch his eye in the mirror. laughs at the way you roll your eyes but don't stop him from pulling you back in the doorway, kissing you again because he “already misses you,” so finally, you add reapplying your lip gloss in the car to your morning routine, while suguru adds loving you to his, but that was already there, wasn't it?

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mexican-roxas · 2 years

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https://www.castingcall.club/projects/sea-of-stars-season-1

Guys, I have a friend who is working on a Hetalia thing centered around original characters. I know, I know, this is out of the blue, but I’ll happily give more information if needed

#I do enjoy my victories #tamaletalia #Hetalia #aph #hws #hetalia axis powers #hetalia world stars #hetalia world twinkle #hetalia world series

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aledethanlast · 11 months

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So here's the thing about Minyard and Josten: they've got something fucking weird going on, Minyard's captain can't figure out what it is.

The press call it a rivalry but he will eat his hat the day Minyard looks like he's happier being on the court than watching paint dry, so it can't be that.

That's not to say Minyard isn't fucking gold as a goalie. But during post practice talks it's very clear that he and the coaches have reached some sort of agreement on the axis of "If my contract had included some sort of save minimum I would hit it and walk off the court."

Except. Except. The captain is the only one on the team who saw what happened last week during the away game. They were getting their asses handed to them and Russo is biting it in the goal when suddenly, Neil fucking Josten is there. No hello, no how are ya, no explanation to why he's at their bench instead of three states away with his own team. No, he's just suddenly standing there, in front of Minyard, and the two are staring each other down like they're trying to telepathically generate cold fusion.

And then Minyard says, "The fuck do you want now." Which is kinda rude.

And Josten says "Your team is getting their ass beat. Which isn't a surprise, you guys are basically the bottom of the division." Which is very rude!

And Minyard says, "Stop stating the obvious. What do you want."

And Josten says, "You just told me to stop stating the obvious."

And then Minyard, who JUST played a full half, turns to Coach Lamm and goes "Put me in there, and swap Aquilar for Mitchell on the backline." And Lamm does, because this is the first piece of proof they have that Minyard actually knows any of their names.

And then he spends the last twenty minutes of the game plus overtime getting them a one point victory. And while Minyard hasn't directly threatened them, there seems to be another standing agreement to never, ever mention that this happened.

Long story short at the next national banquet he asks Kevin Day if they're hate fucking and the guy just says not to worry about it so. Who knows.

#all for the game #the foxhole court #aftg #andrew minyard #originally this post was about Kevin losing his sanity trying to stay out of the black hole that is the Andreil weirdness aura #obviously this is a futile endeavor seeing as how he is the supernova that caused it but hey who are we to deny a man his delusions #if he doesn't wanna admit he catalyzed the gay love affair that killed a mafia boss and sold him to one direction then that's on him

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wuffgang-ameowdeus-moozart · 11 months

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Robin never really got boys talk.

When Sarah turned 14 she invited all the girls in band for a sleepover. It started out fun. After her parents went to bed they put on a creepy horror movie and watched it in a huge cuddle pile. They braided each other's hair and did each other's nails and squeezed each other during tense scenes and muffled their shrieks after a sudden jumpscare.

After that they watched another one. This time Sarah sneaked her mother's makeup kit down to the living room, and so lipstick and eyeshadow joined the mess of nail polish, hair clips and snacks already on the floor.

The second movie was different. In the first one, the blood was obviously fake and the acting wasn't the best (to say the least). But the second one was tense through and through. The cries of pain were so visceral that Robin shuddered, and in the end everyone was terrified. It was silently and unanimously agreed upon that everyone had had enough TV for the night. It was already 3 in the morning, but tomorrow was the weekend and right now Robin wouldn't be able to sleep even if she wanted to, and thus began Robin's first real boys talk.

It was funny at first. Sarah pretended to die of heartbreak when "the blond hot one" was unfortunately the second to die. Heather said the nerdy one with glasses and abs was cuter, which started a very heated discussion of whether blond or brown is the more attractive hair color. Robin had to defend her correct "redheads" opinion all by herself.

(When the others got into a stalemate Sarah turned to Robin. "C'mon", she pleaded, "you know that the blond one was hotter. Just tell us which one you found prettier! And don't forget that this is my birthday party."

Robin laughed at the ribbing, played a bit hard to get, until she finally admitted. "I actually found the first one who died the prettiest." Sarah was already halfway through her victory dance, when Robin corrected her. "No, I don't mean the dude. I mean the first one. The girl with the pink purse."

Everything was silent for a moment.

Then Emma laughed. "You don't have to be jealous Robin", she consoled, "you are also very pretty."

"Yeah, especially after our makeover!"

Robin laughed and agreed and continued on as if her world just hadn't been turned on its axis. Because she knew that the stirring in her gut and the beating of her heart had nothing to do with jealousy. She didn't find the blond one hot or the brunet one cute. That was the first time she really knew it. She liked the girl.)

It was a bit funny the first time, even though she couldn't really join. It got less funny the more it went on. Suddenly boys was the only thing everyone wanted to talk about. And worse: it wasn't just unreachable famous boys like singers or actors anymore. Suddenly it was all "oh, Steve Harrington is sooooo cute" or "oh my god, Tommy Hagan had suuuuuuch a glowup" and "I want to lick the sweat of his body after basketball practice" (this last one was applicable to multiple different people, including Steve and Tommy. It was not applicable for Chrissy when she exited cheerleading practice or Beth after football.)

She thought it would get better when Emma finally confessed to her crush and they actually got together, but no. It somehow got worse. Because "normal boy talk" turned into "experienced boy talk", and Robin wasn't allowed to admit that the only thing that got wet when she thought of Billy Hargrove was her mouth, because he made her want to throw up.

At first she'd say that she didn't have crushes. After a while of people refusing to believe her (even if she was telling the truth! Sometimes.) she started pretending to be into Steve Harrington. Every girl had a crush on Steve, so it made sense that she'd been embarrassed to admit that she was just like everybody else. He was way too far above her league for her friends to force her to "confess" and she could stare without fear when he passed by in the halls with the beautiful Tammy Thompson in his arms. Truly, it was a brilliant plan. It didn't stop the boys talk, though.

So she became a tomboy. She joined football and she hung out with boys and she cut her long hair into a bob. She lost a bit of touch with Emma and Sarah and the others, but she tried not to think about it too much. Instead she threw herself into sports and started hanging out more and more with Matt, the second trumpet in band.

And that was that. Sometimes she missed wearing dresses, but it was a relief not to have her mother insisting she "do something about that hair" anymore. She and Matt became best friends. She even considered telling him for a while. Until he sat her down and confessed his feelings.

She tried to let him down as gently as possible, and they never talked again. The cycle would repeat for multiple times.

Someone out there is laughing their ass off because who would have thought that the dude she pretended to have a crush on would turn out to be the missing half of her soul?

It started out like always. She teased him, he laughed. They suffered through customer service together. He was funny and surprisingly in touch with his emotions and apparently babysat a bunch of middle schoolers, which was equally hilarious and adorable to watch. They both enjoy sports and they both hate Billy Hargrove with a passion and Robin is heartbroken because she knows she can't get attached. She has already been through this too many times to allow it to happen again. She gets close with a guy, they become best friends, he confesses, she can't reciprocate, they never talk again.

This is what is going to happen. She should already be used to it, but it still hurts. It's better for her to keep her distance. To encourage him to flirt with other girls, even if she can see that he mostly does it to amuse her.

And then they uncover an actual real life Russian spy network right beneath their place of work like some fucking blockbuster. And then they are pumped up with drugs and the next thing she knows is that they are both throwing up in a cinema bathroom.

And then it happens. Of course it happens.

He starts his little speech and her heart is already breaking. She surprises herself when she realizes how much she started enjoying Steve's company. He is a dingus, but she is also a dingus and they just fit.

She is already preparing her apology in her head (oh fuck work is going to be so awkward), but what comes out instead is what she wishes she could've said every time this happened. What she wished she could have said every time she got close to another person, every time her parents questioned if she finally found a boyfriend. Something she really tried not to feel ashamed of, but it was so fucking hard when you had to keep it hidden all the time.

(She remembers when she used to train in front of the mirror. She would stare at herself and repeat again and again "I am Robin Buckley and I am a lesbian. I am a lesbian. I am-")

She doesn't breathe as she waits for what she knows what comes next. What has to come next. There is a reason she never told anyone, always kept it hidden and to herself even if she wanted to scream it into the world. He will mock her and he will out her and he will be disgusted and-

"Tammy Thompson?!"

Instead they have girls talk. And Robin finally gets it.

#heteronormativity being like: every strong emotion you feel towards the other gender is romance #+ patriarchy being like: men are entitled to women #= robin suffering #</3 #fun fact i actually never had to invent a crush #like they questioned that i never seemed to be into anybody sometimes #but i always said it so vehemently and also outside of 'boys talk' that they just believed me after a while lol #but i know of multiple ppl who had to #robin stranger things #stranger things #steve harrington #robin buckley #pen.#stranger things drabble #robin buckley drabble #stobin #platonic with a capital p #platonic stobin #does this count as a character study?

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apas-95 · 3 months

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honestly it's been somewhat absurd the last two days, watching the situation on the ground be: massive resistance victory in khan younis, involving many IOF losses with casualties forced to wait hours and hours for evacuation; followed immediately by the IOF lashing out dahiya-style versus what western ideologues have apparently been paying attention to: their friends are all watching the superbowl, so it's already over for palestine, because they're the most important part of the resistance axis of course

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elryuse · 1 month

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Hey can you drop if possible yandere kwon eunbi

The Devil Within Her

YANDERE EUNBI X MALE READER

The fluorescent lights of the practice room buzzed overhead, their harsh glare highlighting the smudged mascara tracks staining Eunbi's porcelain skin. The air hung heavy with the ghosts of past rehearsals, each echoing step a memory of Iz*One's vibrant energy, now a cruel echo in the sterile silence. The news of her ex-boyfriend's betrayal, a fresh gash on her heart, felt insignificant compared to the gaping hole left by the group's disbandment.

In this emotional wasteland, a single, comforting presence remained – Y/n. Unlike the stylists who fawned over her fleeting beauty and the managers consumed by the bottom line, Y/n possessed a genuine warmth. He wasn't swept away by the dazzling facade of Eunbi, the K-pop idol. He saw the woman beneath the shimmering outfits and perfectly choreographed dance moves – a woman vulnerable, hurting, and desperately clinging to the remnants of her dreams.

He'd become her confidante, a silent rock in the ever-shifting sands of her career. A shared smile after a grueling practice session, a knowing glance across the crowded music show stage – these unspoken moments bloomed into a secret language, a garden nurtured in the sterile confines of the entertainment industry. These stolen moments fueled a yearning within Eunbi, a desire that transcended their professional dynamic.

One starless night, Eunbi found herself slumped on the worn practice room floor, the sting of betrayal a bitter pill in her throat. The rhythmic thump of the bass from the studio down the hall mimicked the erratic beat of her heart. Suddenly, a familiar weight settled beside her. Y/n, his eyes reflecting a quiet concern, offered a box of tissues. The simple gesture, the silent understanding that transcended words, sent a jolt through her. In that moment, a seed, dark and possessive, took root in Eunbi's heart.

Years flowed by, a delicate dance of unspoken emotions. Y/n remained a constant, his unwavering support a lifeline in the whirlwind of Eunbi's solo career. Yet, the hunger within her gnawed relentlessly. She craved a deeper connection, a possessiveness that transcended the boundaries of their professional dynamic.

Then, the world tilted on its axis. News of Y/n's upcoming marriage arrived like a physical blow. The vibrant colors of her meticulously curated life leached into a dull grey. The thought of him, her silent knight, belonging to another woman was unbearable. A cold fury, a possessiveness so fierce it bordered on madness, consumed her.

Eunbi, the idol known for her innocent smile and sugary pop anthems, vanished. In her place emerged a woman fueled by a twisted sense of ownership. Whispers of "accidents" plagued Y/n's fiancee, her promising career crumbling overnight. The fear in the woman's eyes, the desperate pleas for help that reached Eunbi's ears through carefully placed sources, fueled a twisted sense of satisfaction in Eunbi.

One frantic night, Y/N burst into Eunbi's practice room, his face a mask of terror, a stark contrast to his usual cheerful demeanor. "What have you done?" he rasped, his voice laced with a fear he couldn't mask.

Eunbi leaned back in her chair, a cold smile twisting her lips. "Just ensuring you understand who truly cares for you, Y/n," she said, her voice devoid of warmth, laced with a chilling edge. "Someone who wouldn't betray you like your precious fiancee."

"This is Crazy, Eunbi!" he pleaded, his voice cracking. "It's... it's madness!"

She stood up, her movements predatory, and circled him like a wolf stalking its prey. "Madness?" she scoffed, her voice a low hum. "Perhaps. But tell me, Y/n, who else has been there for you through it all? Who held you when you were broken, celebrated your victories, and wiped away your tears?"

He remained silent, trapped in a web of his own loyalty and her terrifying affection. A single tear rolled down his cheek, a testament to the impossible situation he found himself in. "Let her go, Eunbi," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "I'll be yours, just please, don't hurt her anymore."

A cruel smile stretched across Eunbi's face. "That," she purred, leaning in close enough for him to feel the heat of her breath, "Is exactly what I want to hear baby."

Y/n's surrender wasn't a victory march but a chilling descent into darkness. He had traded his freedom for a twisted sense of security, trapped in a gilded cage built by a love as beautiful as it was terrifying. The future stretched before him, a canvas painted in shades of obsession and fear, with Eunbi, the idol.

Crystal chandeliers cast a glittering sheen on the opulent ballroom. Eunbi, resplendent in a custom-made gown that shimmered like moonlight on water, stood beside Y/n, her new husband. His hand felt cold in hers, a stark contrast to the warmth she craved. Yet, outward appearances were everything in this world.

Paparazzi flashes erupted like a storm, capturing the image of the newly married power couple. Congratulatory messages poured in – congratulatory tweets from fellow idols, elaborate flower arrangements from sponsors, and even a video call from her former Iz*One bandmates, their smiles tinged with a melancholic understanding. Each well-wisher hammered a nail into the coffin of Y/n's freedom, solidifying his place as Eunbi's trophy husband.

Across the crowded ballroom, hidden in the shadows, stood Y/n's ex-fiancee, her figure barely visible amidst the throng of guests. A single tear traced a path down her cheek, a testament to the love she'd lost and the fear that gnawed at her. She had seen the news reports – the "accidents" plaguing her career, the subtle threats disguised as advice from anonymous sources – and knew who was responsible. But against Eunbi's power and reach, she was powerless.

Eunbi, oblivious to the silent heartbreak across the room, turned to Y/n. "Smile, darling," she murmured, her voice laced with a possessiveness that sent shivers down his spine. "They want us to have a happy ending."

He forced a smile onto his face, the charade hollow and painful. Eunbi, ever the master manipulator, tilted her head, her gaze flickering to the ex-fiancee for a fleeting moment. A cruel smile played on her lips, so subtle that only Y/n, trapped in her twisted game, could detect it.

The night progressed in a blur of champagne toasts and forced small talk. Y/n, a ghost at his own wedding, found himself surrounded by strangers, their faces obscured by a mask of forced cheer. He desperately searched for a familiar face, someone who might see through the facade and understand his predicament, but found none.

Eunbi, the consummate performer, flitted from guest to guest, radiating warmth and charm. Yet, Y/n saw a fleeting flicker of darkness behind her dazzling smile when her gaze met her ex-boyfriend's, a fellow idol enjoying the party with his entourage. It was a reminder that she wouldn't tolerate any competition, not even a ghost from the past.

Later that night, as the last guests trickled out, Eunbi led Y/n to their opulent suite. The celebratory atmosphere evaporated as the door shut behind them. The cold glint in her eyes sent a tremor through him. He wasn't a husband; he was a possession, a prize she'd claimed with ruthless efficiency.

"Now," Eunbi purred, her voice devoid of its usual playful lilt, "where were we?"

Y/n flinched, the fear palpable in the air. He understood then, with a horrifying clarity, that his surrender hadn't bought him freedom, but condemned him to a gilded cage ruled by a love as beautiful as it was terrifying. And as Eunbi closed the distance between them, the glittering facade of their marriage began to crumble, revealing the darkness that lurked beneath. The melody of their twisted love story had just begun, a symphony of obsession and fear, with Y/n trapped in the conductor's cruel hands.

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calaisreno · 1 month

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Déjà Vu

(An excerpt from my WIP Déjà Vu, part 4 of Off-Axis.

Greg sips the coffee Sherlock has paid for. Not a peace offering, exactly, but a gesture of good intentions. It’s been months since they saw each other, since Lestrade gave his ultimatum: no referrals until Sherlock is clean.

“I don’t remember if I ever thanked you,” Sherlock says.

The image of the young man he found on the roof appears in his mind, momentarily superimposing itself over the Sherlock sitting opposite him. It wasn’t Lestrade’s first suicide call, but it is the one that marked him, made him realise he had to give up the night shifts. He found Sherlock swaying on the parapet, grabbed him and held on until he stepped down and collapsed into a heap on the roof. The painfully thin body, all gawky elbows and knees, told him that the man (boy?) was a junkie. The dirty, matted hair said that he no longer cared about anything, not his appearance, his health, his life. But the eyes that blinked up at him, pale as glass, revealed a dizzying intelligence. Mercurial, he thought; a mind that could, even in that moment of despair, look up at Lestrade and see something.

Your marriage fell apart when you started working night shifts. That was the first thing Sherlock said to him. And then he descended into madness again, humming music, muttering about keys… I invented Moriarty…

His dark hair is trimmed now and curls around his ears. His skin has lost its sallowness, and though he’s still thin, he’s clearly taking better care of himself. Still shadowed by exhaustion, his eyes are no longer lit with hallucinations. The clear improvement lifts Greg’s mood; it feels worth it to save a life like this, an answer to all the other nights when there were no victories.

Shaking his head, Sherlock smiles. “I was in a bad way that night. I’ve forgotten a lot about it.”

“It’s fine. I think about you quite often, to be honest. You’re one of my successes. I had another jumper the other night. Same rooftop, which was odd. Gave me déjà vu.”

“What happened?”

Greg shudders, the image of the body on the pavement still vivid.

“She jumped.”

@keirgreeneyes @lisbeth-kk @mydogwatson @totallysilvergirl @13monkton @meetinginsamarra @thegildedbee @kettykika78 @iamjustreading @ninasnakie

#bbc sherlock #johnlock #my fics #wip wednesday

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carionto · 7 months

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Humans seem to have a "switch"

Team building exercises and competitive events are commonplace around the Galaxy. Everyone needs a distraction from the daily grind every now and then, and large organizations and long-term deployments make it essential for such "ice-breaker" activities, both to help integrate newcomers as well as reduce the chance of veterans becoming numb to life.

Yarvut Lyetzsnezhniiy had recently been assigned as a Cultural Analyst to the Human embassy aboard the Coalition Governing Station. While highly professional on the job and quite amicable, but wasn't all that into small talk, and once the workday was over, he was gone. No overtime, no hanging out, nothing.

When time came for the next publicly broadcast Cross-Embassy Game Series, where as many members from each species represented would be paired up with each other over the course of several days and partake in a game both agreed to in advance. Most of these were of the mental variety, and were honestly kinda boring to observe, but some pairings opted for more... active activities.

On the second day the Humans and another bipedal species called the Jorval had agreed to a competition not dissimilar to laser tag. This had actually been proposed by the previous Cultural Analyst and recently been added to the roster with some modifications. Two teams of, in this case, 15 participants on each side, as that was how many Humans were available that day without hindering the core operations of their embassy, so a few Jorvals had to sit out.

They entered a large spherical room with about a 300 meter diameter. Once they were done with the formalities, rules about safety, and yadda yadda - they turned off the gravity. Using small boosters on their heels, knees, elbows, and back, the teams floated to their starting locations on opposite ends of the sphere. And now the obstacles gently puttered in from all sides, turning a pristine empty space into a jungle of jarringly colored geometric shapes, natural looking plant replicas, and numerous traversable but obscuring meshes that come in all colors and patterns. Where once you could observe the entire area from anywhere, now there were scarcely any vistas that would allow one to see more than 50 meters away.

All for a simple capture the flag laser tag game. The Jorval have fairly long lifespans and, though they have not engaged in any wars for generations, military training is compulsory and seen as a matter of course by most of their society, so even the most desk-dedicated office workers are in generally good shape and have some reflexive combat moves at the ready. The Human team on the other hand, had one guy who used to be in the army... 40 years ago, two had taken up martial arts as a hobby, and Yarvut who turns out was an air-soft enthusiast. The rest were your typical either slightly too thin or too thick office workers when it came to their physical readiness.

Before the signal to start, the army guy, Brandon, gave out some tips and pointers, though it was likely going over everyone's heads as they tried to adjust to moving around in zero-g. No sooner had the game started, Yarvut dashed off on his own. Everyone did kinda feel he might do a lone wolf thing, but that, unsurprisingly, was short lived, as not even the two minute mark had struck when Yarvut found himself ambushed from three sides and was now locked in his suit gently pressed up against a tree-like obstacle with a modest view of the Jorval turf.

It would be a best of three, and, predictably, the first match ended with a strong Jorval victory by the seventeenth minute mark. However, it was not a total wipeout as the initial minutes might have suggested. Half of the remaining Humans were taken out within five, but by then Brandon had gotten used to moving in all directions and keeping tabs on the z-axis as well, and was coordinating a defensive tactic with the remaining members. He knew they would lose this match, but he was bent on making the Jorval earn it and show him what they could really do. In the end, every Human was taken out, and the Jorval had lost only three members, though all of which fell victim to the final holdout against just four Humans.

When it was time to swap home bases for the next match, before Brandon could start elaborating on his new tactics, Yarvut surprised everyone by huddling everyone together for a tactical discussion himself. From his position early on he was left with nothing else to do but carefully and calmly observe how the Jorval moved, where they focused their sights on, how close they tend to stick to each other, and other minor details which Brandon was deeply impressed by. Using this newfound perspective and knowledge, Brandon came up with a far more refined strategy for both offense and defense.

Seemingly bolstered by the humiliating defeat, the rest of them were also more motivated, and the entire Human team now gave off, what the neutral observers of the games described as, a different aura. Like something had flipped, that turned this group of people they knew and worked with and respected and generally liked, into something menacing, a focused machine almost. The look in their eyes through the visors sent shivers down most everyones spines or equivalents whenever a camera operator decided to do a zoom in.

Upon the start signal, the Humans split into five squads, one pair on defense duty, one four person team on patrol around the immediate vicinity, and three squads of three on offense, taking the longest route all around the edge of the sphere going for a three-sided ambush of the Jorval's home turf. It was amazing to see how much smoother and more coordinated each Human moved now, when before it was the first time most of them were expected to maneuver in zero-g using suits they had never worn before. You could literally see them adapting and intuitively getting a better by the minute at handling the booster-based movement, and navigating and keeping tabs on all three dimensions. Some were better at it than others, but even the most clumsy of the Humans was still visibly more comfortable now than thirty minutes ago.

The patrol squad had a quick skirmish with a Jorval scout, paralyzing his legs before he made a rapid retreat and taking no wounds themselves. Then a minute of silence, interrupted by a burst of activity coming from the Jorval base, then another minute of silence.

Yarvut was the only of the attack squad members to return, his left arm paralyzed, but he rushed past the defense members to plant the enemy flag in their base and take the win. It was now 1-1.

Another huddle, nobody even needed to call for it, now everyone on the Human team had fully switched to "hunter mode", as a Human audience member called it.

The third and deciding match wasn't even close. Once again, five squads, but this time three each and all in attack formation. They did not give the Jorval even time to fully disperse before the Humans came barreling through the obstacles just thirty seconds after the start signal. Shock and awe - every Jorval was taken out in the next twenty seconds, no Human losses.

Combining what everyone conveyed about their opponents from the second match with Yarvut's keen observations from the first, Brandon figured the Jorval were behaving in a standardized and heavily drilled pattern and would likely repeat it for the third, perhaps with minor alterations expecting another three-way ambush or some other sneaky and delayed attack. Their scout had also not arrived all that fast, so they must have trained to be very methodical in their approach. Brandon also employed a methodical defense the first time, then a coordinated precision strike, so, naturally, it was time for a sledgehammer approach.

And it worked beautifully, completely catching everyone off guard, even the audience. Blink and you missed the entire action. Everyone knows Humans can be reckless and even downright crazy, but to witness them going full "hunter mode" was a first for practically all observers. And this was just some office workers and an elderly former low ranking soldier. What kind of monsters were their actual well trained and fully geared up soldiers then?

_______________________

I really want to limit how much I describe the sentient aliens as they are not the focus of these stories, but it would be awkward to keep saying "those bipedal aliens", so a compromise this time. How they look beyond bipedal I'll leave entirely to your imagination.

#humans are space orcs #humans are deathworlders #humans are space oddities #humans are space australians #humanity fuck yeah #laser tag #scifi #short story #carionto

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cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut · 12 days

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Thanks to @welcometololaland @honeybee-taskforce @strandnreyes @lemonlyman-dotcom @whatsintheboxmh @birdclowns @carlos-in-glasses @tommy-kinard-buckley

@theghostofashton and @alrightbuckaroo for the tags!

Chapter Two of Live To Tell is up now. Here's a little something from chapter three, in which TK is not having a good time 👀

CW: Captivity

Beneath TK’s bound and aching body, the world tilts badly on its axis.

His captor, on the other hand, remains still — steady on his feet with a sharp edge to his smile. He clicks his phone locked, slides it back into his pocket, and towers over TK with victory colouring his expression.

“I’ll ask you again,” he says, crouching slowly down to TK’s level once more. TK’s stomach roils with the proximity, and he fights not to pull at his restraints. “Now that you have all the information – what will your mother make of my message?”

“She’ll kill you if she finds you,” TK says. The words are quick and sharp, and TK would be proud of them if he wasn’t so busy trying not to become violently ill. He’s never felt dread like this before. It falls into stride with his simple terror, and together they flay him to the bone, right here in front of his captor. He feels seen and observed and completely understood in this way – he’s terrified, and his captor knows it, is glad for it. He wills himself to stop trembling, but at the sound of his captor’s breathy laugh, even his teeth begin to rattle together. He clamps his jaw to stay the force of it, and his captor simply smiles.

No pressure tags below the cut. (If you don't want to be tagged in Live To Tell stuff, feel free to let me know!) @bonheur-cafe @catanisspicy @chicgeekgirl89 @chaotictarlos @detective-giggles @fitzherbertssmolder @goodways @heartstringsduet @herefortarlos

@im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @jesuisici33 @lightningboltreader @liminalmemories21 @louis-ii-reyes-strand @mooshkat @meditating-honey-badger @noxsoulmate @never-blooms

@orchidscript @paperstorm @rmd-writes @reasonandfaithinharmony

@sugdenlovesdingle @thebumblecee @three-drink-amy @safeaswrites @sanjuwrites And YOU if you're not tagged and wanna play! 💛

#tarlos #tk strand #911 lone star #tarlos fic #wip wednesday #cw captivity

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hydralisk98 · 10 months

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"Mayhem in Limbo Space" Meme Compilation for August-2023

Never gets old...

A robot, a droid, my life for a synthetic!

The "Lion from the North" song and its overall "Carolus Rex" music album from Sabaton

youtube

So that oldie angsty meme collection is cool and all but seems to be some great potential for making short memetic scenes.

I can imagine at least one short film around that compilation, as a eldritch twist on a generic horror short film turning from a "cabin in the woods" into a "war action sequence" situation between the slasher and the final girl, going terribly haywire for the aggressor as the lady gets her revenge and goes apeshit onto society henceforth for allowing such a criminal to go unpunished.

Most likely occurring within the context of a German Axis-victory world months before the nuclear Endekrieg / Armageddon if I am to guess (might be TNO, TWR, MachineGames' Wolfenstein, Jin-Roh The Wolf Brigade, AlternateHistoryHub's or literally something custom of that authoritarian feel). Set somewhen in a early-middle seventies (~1973-1975) around Rostock and the overall state of Mecklenburg, retro analog video editing workflow and with a slow-burn Stalker 1979 + AlienTheEighthPassenger 1979 with political thriller intrigues & a mass surveillance extremely restricted computation vibe going across.

#maskoch #meme #youtube #vigilante #slasher fiction #axis victory #wolfenstein #Youtube

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yantalia545 · 5 months

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Yandere Axis and Allies with a runaway bride attempt

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆💍☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

This was the most perfect day of his life.

Finally.

After all this time; These years even. He finally has you within his grasp.

Today will mark the day he finally got it all; Money, power, you. Nothing in the world could make this perfect day any better. Maybe if you actually reciprocated his feelings.

Everything was in perfect order. It's taking many months to plan this whole day down to the very last detail but it was worth it. All that was missing was your beautiful form to walk through those doors and waltz up to him every so slowly so he could take in every inch of this marvelous moment.

He won.

Germany:

Bold of you to assume that running away would have been an option.

Of course, he thought about you trying to pull some last-minute stunt and has planned accordingly.

He would have liked you to use logic over emotions and realize that at this point there would be nothing you could do to stop this wedding from taking place when you and your boss have already signed the papers. The ceremony is more for his own pleasantries. Germany's fought tooth and nail for this and he's not about to rush through his victory. He had dreamed of this moment for a long while and had read anything he could get his hands on to fully prepare for this moment and he’d be damned if you’d ruin this.

Germany isn’t stupid and had a suspicion that you would try to pull something like this and came fully prepared.

He thought the extended amount of guards would have kept you in place but apparently not. On the off chance that you have managed to get passed his most trusted men, he was prepared for that too. His men would be sent out at the first brush of finding out you got away and be quick to hunt you down. Hopefully, before the entire day was ruined.

Yeah, good luck trying to get away from this one. Best to try running away after the two of you get home from the honeymoon, but be warned, Germany has well prepared the house for you too.

Japan:

He should have known you would pull something like this. You did seem just a little too excited about having a wedding. Japan would have preferred a quiet wedding between just the two of you, but you were admin about a bigger and more public wedding that he went along with it. It was foolish of him to imagine that your decision was a sign of you finally giving into him.

Japan is a very collected man so no one can really understand how much he’s bubbling with rage after you to get him all worked up over a big wedding and just ditch him in front of everyone. He won’t say a thing to anyone when he hears the news that you’re gone, but the game is on.

He won’t involve anyone in his search for you. Japan wants to be the one to personally hunt you down and make you his. He wants to see the exact moment that your hope washes away when you realize you’ve been caught. When you realize that you belong to him and there’s nothing you can do to change it.

Italy:

The poor man is a mess. Not even a minute passes past the queue for you waltz down the isle and he’s already breaking down.

This doesn’t work in your favor one bit. Once the water works break through, everyone is quick to take Italy’s side on the matter. How could you leave such an innocent man standing at the alter like that?

Believe me, you’ve tried to get others to believe all the horrible things that Italy is capable of when no one’s looking, but no one ever seems to listen. How can anyone suspect that Italy is purposefully doing anything bad? Italy is so sweet and innocent that it must be you just misunderstanding things or just you making them up to try to make Italy look bad.

You thought that if no one would believe you then running away would just make things better but Italy is too sneaky for his own good.

Why else are the two of you getting married now? If you won’t stay willingly then he’ll just have to make sure that you can’t leave him.

Russia:

It’s been over fifteen minutes since the ceremony was supposed to start and you’re still not here. Russia was holding the benefit of the doubt that you were just as nervous over the most wonderful day of his life, just as he was. He knew he couldn’t seek you out himself since, according to traditions in weddings, it was considered bad luck for couples to see each other before the ceremony.

Even though the others countries were well aware of your situation and were forced to attend this horrific day by Russia, some couldn’t help but feel some sense of remorse from Russia as he arrogantly stood at the alter, waiting for a woman who would never arrive. Then there were some like America and Prussia mostly, who were fighting the urge to laugh at the poor man’s rejection.

His smile never left his face when the realization does hit him that you’ve gotten away somehow. All your loved ones are sitting amongst the crowd of people in front of him currently, right? All he has do is show you just the kind of man he is and what he’s willing do for you and you’ll come right back to him yourself.

You really didn’t think this one through, did you?

America:

He was a little pissed off that he put all of this time and money into making your wedding the most amazing and extravagant wedding anyone has ever seen, but at the same time, he couldn’t help but fall in love with you even more.

America is a very strong-headed man, so it only makes sense that he’d fall in love with someone who’s also like him. A strong-headed darling would only inspire him to do better. To him, this is just another game of tug-of-war between you two and he can’t help but feel exhilarated about it all. You really are perfect for him. You really do know how to keep him on his toes and constantly test his wits.

You running away only makes securing you all the more interesting and indefinite for America. Oh believe me, you will be his and he will put an end to this little game of yours, but your defiant nature just makes it more rewarding for him in the end. You just don’t know it yet!

England:

So, you thought you could pull a stunt on your perfect day together and run away without consequences? Or better question, did you think he was going to stop pursuing you just because you exposed him in front of everyone?

Bad move.

Its seems that you haven’t figured it out that what he was doing was considered just a tip of the iceberg of the things he’s willing to do in order to obtain you. England thought you would have noticed that he was trying to be civil about the whole matter but if you want to be a brute about it then he’s not going to hold back either.

England isn’t going to waste any time over the matter either. He’ll send his troops out to retrieve you the moment you set foot outside the church. When your caught, and believe me it won’t take long, he’ll have you watch as he burns your country to the ground; literally.

If you won’t come to him peacefully then he’ll show you all that he’s capable of. Maybe then you’ll learn to be more appreciative of his good grace if there’s nothing for you to build upon without him. The others would be wise to stay out of it too if they don’t wish to end up in a similar position as you.

China:

It's funny actually. Did you really think he was stupid enough to believe that you wouldn't try to leave today of all days? He's not young and stupid like the rest of the countries; He plans. And he plans well.

Without you even noticing, he had ordered one of the maids who were fixing up your dress to slip a tracker on you so even if you did manage to escape then he could track you down with ease.

To China, this was all a big cat and mouse game to him. Don't get me wrong here, he is very irritated that you refuse to love him, but if he has to show just how much more power he has over you, then he will get the most he can out of it.

It's all so pitiful to you. You thought you had finally managed to outrun that hellish nightmare, when seemingly out of nowhere, China pops in with a smug look on his face. Mocking you the whole way back to the church.

No matter where you go or how far you run, China will always find you just when you think you're safe.

#hetalia #yandere hetalia #yandere germany #yandere italy #yandere japan #yandere russia #yandere england #hetalia x reader #yandere #yandere america #yandere china

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27-moons · 2 months

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Popular Resistance Committees Statement

On International Al-Quds Day and at these historic moments that pass over our Palestinian people, the nation, and its proud axis as the covenant renewed is for Al-Quds and its Al-Aqsa Mosque and for the heroic Gaza, which with the blood of its women, children, and elderly, confronts the tyranny and oppression of the zionist-American axis of evil that commits a war of genocide and ethnic cleansing aimed at liquidating the Palestinian cause.

The epic of the Al-Aqsa Flood on October 7th dispelled the zionist-American illusions and myths, which the enemies of the nation and their agents among the normalizers and the negligent tried to market and implant in the minds of the nation's peoples and its free people, that this Nazi zionist entity is invincible and cannot be defeated.

The battle of the Palestinian people began since the occupation and usurpation of the land of Palestine at the hands of zionist gangs in the year 1948, and the Al-Aqsa Flood on October 7 was nothing but a glorious chapter and a bright page on the pages of the resistance and struggle of our people on the path to liberating Al-Quds and Al-Aqsa Mosque and restoring stolen rights.

Let all wills and energies mobilize on International Al-Quds Day to make it a day of global rage and a flood of all free people in the nation and the world, rejecting the continuation of genocide in Gaza.

On International Al-Quds Day, we extend our salutes and pride in the arms of the heroic fighters in the Islamic Resistance in Hezbollah, the Yemeni Armed Forces and Ansarallah, and the Islamic Resistance in Iraq, who fulfill their duty by igniting all fronts and arenas in support of Gaza and in victory for Al-Quds and its Al-Aqsa Mosque, and direct blessed strikes against this criminal entity.

On International Quds Day, Palestine, its people and its resistance will not forget everyone who stood by them, led by the Islamic Republic of Iran, which did not hesitate for a moment to provide all forms of support and assistance to our people, our cause and our resistance.

We call on all peoples and the free in the nation, foremost among them the nation's scholars and sheikhs, to rise up and revolt, and to take to the streets in support of Gaza and in rejection of the genocidal and ethnic cleansing war waged by the Nazi zionist enemy with American partnership and international inaction.

#glory to the resistance

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dig-jules · 8 months

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things that happen in star trek that sound not real:

captain kirk undergoes an FBI interrogation and destroys top-secret US military files

kirk and spock once again try to sabotage a US military operation upon which nuclear escalation against the Eastern bloc is contingent

kirk and spock lie to and run from the NYPD

chekov and uhura steal nuclear material from a US naval vessel at the height of the cold war

chekov is interrogated by the US navy at the height of the cold war

kirk and spock help overthrow the government of a fascist colony (includes punching nazis)

kirk and spock allow vehicular manslaughter to happen in order to prevent the Axis victory in WWII

#star trek #star trek tos #jim kirk #spock #city on the edge of forever #star trek iv: the voyage home #tomorrow is yesterday #patterns of force

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buckyysdoll · 3 months

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okay; part 1/2

MAIN MASTERLIST

જ⁀➴ written, re-edited & posted again for an old request from @hi-my-name-is-riley !! i’m sorry for all the confusion & i hope this is still alright for u !! i’ve never really felt fully happy with this, but :// !! sending love! Xx

summary: when you find out you didn’t pass a test that was crucial for your career, bucky’s there to comfort you through it — ps. we’re proud of u anyway, you’ve got this xox

A laugh track cut through the television set, though the dialogue was cheap and unfunny. It was a sitcom — and one mediocre at best — though you made no move to reach and change the channel.

At least it was some background noise to fill the stagnant silence. It was almost enough to have nearly even drowned out your thoughts —

Almost, but not quite.

An hour had passed just like this: you lying on your couch in a mental stasis. Your eyes burned from crying, and your neglected cup of tea cooled on the coffee table, brimming full and undrunk.

Words were making rounds in your head on repeat. The message was clear, and abhorrent: the one thing you wanted beyond anything else had been lost.

You were utterly lost.

By now, it had been sixty one minutes since you'd gotten the phone call that had tilted the axis of your life. We’re sorry to tell you, but unfortunately …

Five weeks of feeling victory, then this. All for what? You couldn’t believe it, but what choice did you have?

This was your life's work, and so the breaking of your heart was fully earned. Was justified and all you could feel. Weeks and months and years you'd devoted to this, and what now? What was there now?

When you'd first heard, you'd hated yourself for that failing, for what you saw as personal failure. Though now that was sixty one minutes ago and between then and here you'd been numbed, face swollen from crying the tears what would not stop coming in their quick, hot tracks.

And so: there was just that television, its white noise and open screen. That obnoxious fake laughter you hated. Your blank eyes that could still only watch, do nothing but, and your aggravated cheeks mottled red and sorrow-stained.

Not even the sound of your husband's footfalls on the hall outside could rouse you. You could've known the pitch of it anywhere and yet there was no comfort in hearing it now. His key turned in the door, a familiar domestic sound, and the latch clicked out of place. In your periphery, the door swung wide and a well-loved frame filled the space it had left.

Not even to him could you bear to look. You couldn't bring yourself to turn your head.

"Hey honey, I'm sorry l'm late. Traffic was a nightmare." Once, you would've marvelled at those words coming from his mouth — how mundane, how effortlessly close and familiar they were, such that it spoke of an easy, intimate rhythm that could only come from two people sharing a home, and a life together. What you used to think you'd never have.

Because indeed, if someone had told you five years ago that you'd live in this apartment, be with him? Surely then you would've laughed, would've wept, but in this moment nothing could've felt like a blessing.

The only response you made was a low, noncommittal sound saying okay. Confirming that you’d heard him.

And that was all Bucky Barnes needed to hear to know that something was irrecoverably wrong.

He knew all your tells even better than his own: what you said even when you were silent just by a singular look on your face. What all your hmms and little sounds and gestures meant. Each expression you wore, and when. And so he knew now in his bones that something wasn’t right.

It took seconds. His stomach clenched up.

The TV screen lit up your face in a low, sickly wash. In a pallor. You were pale, too pale. Motion caught and held in your eyes in great, glassy arcs of colour from the screen. A box of tissues sat surrounded by ones that you'd used and discarded. Your full cup of tea no longer steamed.

Proof enough of how long you'd been there. How long you’d needed him before he’d arrived. Bucky's heart seized and worry gripped him as you sniffed once aloud, confessing that — yes, you’d been crying.

Bucky moved to the couch as by instinct, his love for you driving each step through the panic.

And oh, there was so much panic, thick and greasy and abhorrent in his gut, as he came to your side in measured steps, keys and groceries and it’s Tuesday flowers forgotten on the counter.

There were hard days with you two just as much as the good, because of both you and him. Your pasts weren’t easy, and though that was for far different reasons, you worked for the future you wanted together.

And so he knew this silence, even if he didn’t yet know its cause. He knew that you’d need to be held. He'd promised to love you through everything and oh, how he did. He did, and he would. Always.

At the couch, Bucky lifted your blanketed legs so gently that it re-broke your heart, and sat down where they'd been with your feet in his lap. "Honey?" His hands settled on them, caution plain in each movement and his voice so soft that it hurt, that it brought a fresh lump to your throat.

More tears brimmed and fell.

But at last your eyes left the TV screen and found their familiar way to his own. The look in them ripped you wider, wide open. There was such tenderness, such worry. Such love. A fresh sob broke its cresting wave in your chest, and you were crying even harder than before.

Bucky shifted closer, and carded his fingers through your hair, once, twice; over and again, in long soothing strokes, with his eyes never leaving your face. “Do you want to tell me about it?” You said nothing, couldn't speak, and just managed to turn your head to his palm. Kiss it once.

It said enough: that you needed his nearness, the comfort of his warmth that had always steadied you for as long as you’d had the familiar privilege of knowing it. You knew if he could, he would have died just trying to make you feel okay, but for now he waited until you found the words that only you could find in yourself.

"You know that test I took?" Your voice was thick, slightly hoarse with disuse. “Turns out I didn't pass.” And there it was, out now, out in the open where comfort and Bucky could reach. Resignation weighed you down but your lips made a small, pitiful smile at yourself. It felt like confession and you had all its shame in admitting to your boyfriend what you’d feared had come true.

But still, as your words hung in the air, there was his strong hand in your hair; those worried eyes sea-blue and as deep, and looking only at you. You almost saw the words land.

"[Y/n]” That look — him feeling everything you felt: all your hopes dying, your grief. Bucky would’ve shouldered your pain alone if he could, but you both knew he couldn’t; so he offered himself, all you needed, his unwavering steadfast strength by your side.

It was you two against the whole world and if one of you suffered, you both did.

Bucky stood and moved up onto the couch, manoeuvring and settling behind you so you lay as close as you physically could in the limited space. Not wanting to meet his eyes and see the blatant love there, you kept your body turned to the room. If you looked at him now, you wouldn’t feel like you’d failed just yourself, but Bucky too.

And you couldn’t bear it.

A strong arm came around your waist and you were warm and flush against him, Bucky gentle, just so gentle, with each slow move that he made. You were safe, you were here, and he was grateful to the point of physical nausea, almost; when he first came in, he’d thought …

God, he’d feared the worst. His past was a ghost that so loved the man it haunted, and he’d just feared the worst.

Now then, he took in your scent, the familiar comfort of holding you and having the weight of you in his arms, and made a silent promise in a kiss to the crown of your head that you would get through this together. Your hurting was a horror that floored him, but this was something that you could — and would — get through. You were safe, you were here, you were safe safe safe. One breath in, out again. Safe.

"Can you talk about it with me? When did you find out?” With the words, Bucky’s hand made slow strokes idly up and down your waist, moving to your stomach and settling there to warm your chilled bare skin beneath your sweater.

“‘Got a call just over an hour ago." An hour of feeling like this. An hour where he should’ve been there been there been there —

Bucky shut out the thought. Humming low in acknowledgment, he rested his head on the curve of your shoulder from behind, dipping enough to press his lips to the crevice that still smelt of your perfume. “I'm so sorry, doll.” The sincerity was plain in his voice. The sorrow. The ache.

You huffed out a hopeless breath and closed your hand over his, twining your fingers through his own. Several moments passed before either of you spoke again. When he did, his words were crushing only because you wished so much they were true.

“But this isn't a reflection on you." And there it was, just like that: a trembling hope. A frail optimism with which you could hold it. The conviction in his voice was so quiet but so certain, so sure, that you almost believed him. Almost, but not quite.

"Yes, you're remarkable. You're absolutely incredible. And I’m more proud of you than anything in this whole world. You know that, right?” Light blooming in you then, just a little, just enough. Coming up through the dark cracks. “But you're still only human, doll. One slip up doesn't make you a failure.”

You wanted to believe him. You did. But there was just … there were so many buts. It wasn’t as easy as that, to just move on from every single hope that had died. A sigh blew from between your pursed lips; “Thank you, but I just ...” At least your tears had stopped.

Bucky's presence, it seemed, just soothed you in a way that was almost instinctive.

You toyed with his fingers that still curled around your own upon your stomach, giving a small squeeze that Bucky knew meant I appreciate you. And hearing your silent words just like always, he replied in a whisper against your skin: “I know.” Your boyfriend pressed another small kiss to your shoulder.

And it was everything, that little gesture. The understanding you weren’t quite sure you deserved. He was truly your world, and what was more? He helped you see his whole world in yourself. Knowing him had made you question everything you'd once thought, and then in growing to love him? You’d learned to see yourself the way that he did: as beautiful, incredible. As capable, too.

Capable intrinsically, without condition. With just as much worth as you came into the world with. With a worth that was yours, and that no one and nothing could ever take from you. Not even yourself.

You turned in the circle of his arm. Affection rushed you as your eyes met again for the first time in far too long, and there he was — your Buck, your Bucky. Never your “James”, but always your love. Your sweetheart. The best friend that you’d ever had and who’d devoted his life to precisely this: to loving you, and lending the strength to you when your own faltered and you needed his.

Bracing a curled hand on his t-shirted chest just to feel him, you let yourself give into it: his reassurance, his steadfast faith in you wholly irrespective of what you’d ever done or not done; in the warmth of his body, his familiar smell of cologne and something musky and just so Bucky; into the eyes you adored and that watched you as you watched him, as you took all of him in.

His own hand came up to your face, a tender touch; one you coveted and exhaled against. It was a cradle like you were something cherished, and you were. It was a warm weight on your skin that was grounding and reminded you of just where, what, who you were.

Again, Bucky's fingers threading into your soft hair; where they stayed, braced with his thumb at your cheek to brush slow, smoothing strokes on your skin. And it worked: calmed your breath and gradually lightened your sore sorry heart, back and forth as though to ease, which it did.

“I'm so proud of you, doll.” Bucky’s smile alone could've outglowed the sun, and it was quiet in holding that pride; enough for you both when you fell short of loving yourself with the same ferocity with which he loved you. And you saw it in the glassy shine to his own eyes, rendered deeper in their blue with adoration; searching your face, so familiar and loved, as though to memorise it, as though he hadn’t already a hundred times and more.

It was never enough.

“There is nothing, nothing,” he reiterated with his thumb dipping lower to your lip, where he lightly brushed it before going on: “that you could ever do to change that. And you deserve to be so proud of yourself, even if you can’t see that right now.”

As he spoke, his touch the only thing that ever could ground you, you held tight to his wrist, ran your fingers lightly up his clothed arm to his muscle-packed shoulder. Absent, steadying touches. Anything to remind yourself that he was here, and loving you. That no matter what happened you had him, you’d always have Bucky. Just as he had you, too.

And now you couldn't help but take his words in faith. "Just look at how far you've come to even get here in the first place. Did you ever think you could, before you did?"

You shook your head no, but stayed quiet. His words were coming through, hope and strength were coming through, and so you let them. Let yourself truly hear him.

"Honey, this is just one step in a whole lifetime's worth of achievements. You tried your best, and you can't ask anymore from yourself than that. It didn't quite work out this time, but your future — the chance to try again — will still be there when you're ready to take it. It's not going anywhere, doll.”

And he was right. He was right like he usually was, so rational when he knew that you just needed space first to feel it, before you dealt with it. In times like these when he offered his perspective, you realised just how much you'd lost yours — how much you needed the space he gave you to grieve for the loss, for the failure; how it deserved to breathe on its own, and just how crucial it was that you felt it. Crying and breaking in his arms was essential to the healing, to the growth. To acceptance.

It came out as a whisper.

"Thank you." And you really meant it. Really felt his faith in you raise something up in your own chest: self-forgiveness, or at least the hope of it. But for right now it was enough.

Even when what you saw as "failures" put just more obstacles in the way of life’s path. What more was this then, than just another hurdle to find your way over? Fighting tooth and nail as you always did. Though you may stumble blind you still moved, still forged onwards with the most loving man by your side.

Life would, after all, still be uncertain even if you had passed. There were no guarantees. You'd overcome everything else till this point, so why not let yourself move through this pain too?

“Thank you." It came out again, you couldn't stop it; your voice was stronger now, and more certain. You thought of how he held you, not just in his arms but how you trusted him to love you so gently; not just skin to skin, but the tenderness, too, that he reserved for you alone. Who would’ve thought — the famed ex-Winter Soldier, once the most widely feared, the most deadly assassin? Laying here holding you now with those hands that you trusted beyond your own life.

Who knew how long you stayed like that: measured breaths, the slow rising and falling. Bucky now on his back with your head on his chest, legs tangled in each other’s so warm and close — so much like just one being — that it was almost unknown exactly where two distinct bodies could be discerned. But it was there that you allowed yourself to let go of your pride, and be a person who could fall and get back up and call it life.

Perhaps you wouldn't ever feel good about the test: perhaps you'd always wish that it had gone different. But for now, in the soft, steady hold of your husband, with the smell of him, the feel of him, around you — you breathed deeply for the first time in hours and knew you’d be okay. Maybe not now, maybe not for a little while yet.

But you’d be okay.

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