#one of the few superheroes to go to therapy even if the therapist did turn out to be a monster

[momentofch-aos]

Daisy Johnson/Daniel Sousa - Invisible String by Taylor Swift

so i said i would write an essay on this. So I will.

minor mentions of PTSD, therapy and the traumas they've both been through

A huge theme for Daisy and Daniel is time. Obviously.

"time, curious time. gave me no compass, gave me no signs."

neither of them expected each other. For Daisy, this was just another mission, where everything was on the line. For Daniel, it was literally just another day at the office. Until he opened that office door.

"were there clues I didn't see?"

It has been said that their relationship was rushed in that last season of AoS and it was, due to the fact it was a short last season of the show where there was everyone's plot points to wrap up. BUT, I could wax lyrical about little things that you can pick up in both of their character developments through the respective shows (AoS for Daisy, Agent Carter for Daniel), that make them ideal for each other. Both bullheaded, quick witted, willing to do whatever it takes for the good of other people. The way they compliment each other's personalities. Sousa's measured calm to Daisy raging storm.

"time, mystical time. Cutting me open, then healing me fine."

this applies to them both, but I mainly think about it from Daisy's perspective. Throughout the show she goes through huge trauma, huge things that, through lack of time to process or just huge attempts to internalise it she moves on from. Her whole childhood. Trip giving his life to try and save hers. Her mother almost killing her. Lincoln's death. Coulson's dying and coming back in various forms. Fitz forcibly removing her inhibitor. Fitz dying. May dying. Although she's not healed completely, time forced her to move on. I feel like she's the kind of person to say she was 'fine' when she is indeed, not.

"A string that pulled me, out of all the wrong arms."

Whether there was something, fate or subconscious, that moved Daisy away from the darker paths she could have gone down. Something cosmic that would lead her to something even better. To a life with him.

"Something wrapped all my past mistake in barbed wire"

Theres a deep debate in my heart about the way the rest of the team treat Daisy over the seasons. Don't get me wrong, I love them all dearly but I think a lot of pressure is placed on her shoulders. Knowing someone as well as the team know each other, leads to past mistakes being brought up even years later. Think Fitz (I love him don't come for me) saying "do you want me to list all the times you did [turn her back on the team]". I think Sousa, our protective boy, would provide a relief from this, a comfort that she was more than the mistakes she'd made, how she'd proven herself time and time again. Maybe it's due to the fact that he hadn't been present then, the fact he solely knew the person she was now and not how she'd got there.

"Chains around my demons, wool to brave the seasons"

All I can think is Ghost Rider here sorry.

But I'd also like to think that they both force each other to confront things, I like to think Daisy suggests going to one of the Shield therapists Mack hired would be good for Sousa as he is thrown into the 21st Century as well as the PTSD he likely has from his injury and the war. I also think he would suggest it as a good option for her, after a few sessions of his own, and they's have therapy and then go on lunch dates. Dealing with the demons, together.

"One single thread of gold tied me to you"

NEED I SAY MORE - THEIR LOVE IS GOLDEN. sorry.

"Cold was the steel of my axe to grind."

To me, this is Daniel and their first meeting. The frame of mind he was in when he found that fake CIA agent sat at his desk, after the emotional ringer he'd been put through thinking Peggy had arrived and then finding out it was a imposter. The anger and emotional rawness he was feeling. That (after some initial defensiveness) was healed by this fun to be around superhero that says what she means.

"Gold was the color of the leaves, When I showed you around Centennial Park"

This is off topic for this piece, but imagine, the pair of them taking a walk around the town close to the Lighthouse when the mission debrief was over. The pair of them chatting, Daniel enraptured when Daisy throws her head back in a laugh as they walk through the park, leaves crunching beneath their feet. And it just feels so normal.

"Hell was the journey, but it brought me heaven."

I have nothing to say, both of them went through hell and back,

"Time, wondrous time. Gave me the blues and then purple pink skies"

Time brought her to him. Time hopping kept them connected. TIme loops bringing them closer, at least for Daisy.

Blue shirt of chivalry and any excuse for my favourite gif purple pink skies.

"isn't it just so pretty to think, all along there was some invisible string tying you to me?"

I like to think of Daisy, on a early morning watching a sleeping Daniel in the light of a beautiful sunrise, looking back on her life, wondering if everything she's gone through, although awful, meant that it lead her to this life with him. This unequivocal support, this life outside of shield that she never thought she'd have.

Anyway! If you made it to the end congrats.

Heres some links to videos that i found after i had this thought in the car the other day that use the song for these two. One on tiktok and the other on youtube

tagging @angry-slytherin because they seemed excited by the concept of this chaos ⭐️

#agents of shield #daniel sousa #daisy johnson #marvel #fanfic #dousy #aos #timequake #agent carter #song fic #taylor swift #invisible string #i could monologue about them #and i just did #my apologies #clusterfluff #Spotify

[delusionland]

Billy and teddy kaplan-altman are the gay answer to the comic book code that devastated the golden age of comic books.  teddy and to a lesser extent Billy represent a moment in time, a feeling, a history that is beyond their minimal appearances in the last 15 years. And its not just about being gay---its about what it means to be GAY and completely, and totally unproblematically, unthreateningly good in the most common sense "aha!" Moment in comics. 

This is the middle ground between absolutely no censorship in comics at all, and our straight Christian propaganda fanon-canon blue boy scout superman aimed at little boys. Of course two of the most extensively powerful people in the marvel universe are two dumbass gay boys who REFUSED to say goddamn and say gosh-darned who are just? Really nice and in love after everything they've been through? 

Sometimes you don't want to read about superman beating up racists bc that shit can be scary and traumatizing. Sometimes you just want the most normal boy next door toothless fan raised couple to have matching sauron rings and get married twice and have mental issues and daddy/mommy issues that can be picked up and put down as easily as flying thru the air with ur boyfriend when u have superstrength and can shape-shift and fly and also u are king of space.

There is room for that story. There is room to breathe and to laugh, to talk about the deeper moments, the interdependence, the ways u are unhealthy and scared and lonely… and there is also room for mcu quips about a "twunk with great arms."

Its hard to trust stories, even after you've read every page. Its impossible to trust characters---theyre just fiction and prone to editorial whims. Its impossible to trust writers---they won't let you read their mind, and are also often forced into editorial corners.

But there is room for good. For boys who trust too much. Who are kind, excessively, needlessly so.

Superheroes and unfortunately our modern understanding them wouldn’t exist without the comic code foundation of characters striving so hard to be perfect---and continuing to try again, every time they got knocked down by serious threats after the code was knocked down.

There is no such thing as perfect, and I don’t want to censor myself or my own lgbtness or mental illness, which is not as SIMPLE, or easy to manage. But if I cannot be satisfied with the good within myself, I can be satisfied with the good in comic books that profess to be nothing more than themselves, that provide decent character arcs--and make me hope for more for myself one day.

#ooc: hc #king of empyre describes teddy as a good-good nice goodest boy and like! wow! that's it! thats all there really is to his character! #besides this sense of unreality that he is dealing with everything while trying to be as nice and kind as possible when everything is weird #but he deals with everything so well and so healthily its honestly so nuts #one of the few superheroes to go to therapy even if the therapist did turn out to be a monster #he's just. welladjusted. shy. nice. polite dreamy boy. maybe a little out of it at times. maybe tries way too hard #but he's just NICE. he was just raised right by a woman who loved pink lemonade! #he KNOWS he's living the dream! he knows his boyfriend is wonderful and his powers are wonderful and his destiny is insane... #he's so NORMAL but i guess there are normal people in this world. ive never met them. but teddy kaplan is a nice nice round spongebob boy

[one-rosy-sock]

Coming Undone | Abner Krill x fem!Reader (1/2)

Go to the {Ao3 Link} for more info...

Fandom: The Suicide Squad (2021) Rating: T (M for future chapter) Summery: You’re a psychiatrist. You should know the warning signs when a relationship with a patient is becoming problematic. But you refuse to consider this, because Abner Krill is a lot of things, and violent is not one of them. Warnings: PTSD, childhood abuse, trauma, brief mention of past suicide attempt. 

Notes: no use of y/n Disclaimer: Author is NOT a real therapist. I do not own DC comics. __ The first time you met Abner Krill, he was recommended to you by a colleague at Belle Reve.

It had been several weeks since the convicted metahumans defeated Starro, that giant one-eyed starfish. Sometimes it amazes you to no end what strange things exist in this world. The Corto Maltese coup and monster defeat held onto headlines for several weeks until the next big thing came to top it. Seeing such exciting news affect your patients wasn’t unusual, but to have a high profile patient be a part of such news was a first, you’ll admit.

As for you, well, things were pretty much the same. You see your patients during the week at your office. You’re a licensed psychiatrist, and oftentimes you see men and women who have been convicted of a felony or are ex-prisoners themselves. It wasn’t a dream job for many women, much less anyone, to counsel people so troubled. You aren’t like everyone else, though. No, you might not have x-ray vision or super strength, or any super fancy gear to punch bad guys, but you do have a gift not many have: A good ear and an open heart.

And a prescription notepad, but you are determined to make your sessions more than just a pill dispensary.

You are aware of who Abner Krill is. The Polka-Dot Man. One of the metahumans who went to Corto Maltese and defeated Starro. This has partially immortalized him in the media as a superhero, despite his past as a prisoner. Some of your patients were metahumans too, but none as powerful or as widely known as the Polka-Dot Man. His identity and those of his teammates had been concealed from the general public. As of last week, you know his real name.

His appointment’s in the morning on a Tuesday. Your secretary came by as you were straightening up your office to let you know he had arrived. You fluff the couch pillows, throw blanket over the back, tissue box on the side table, a mild scent infuser on your desk. The century-old computer at your desk whirls to cool itself off. Earlier you'd taken the time to shoot an email to Ms. Waller confirming Mr. Krill's appointment.

You follow your secretary up front. She goes to her desk and you step into the waiting room.

Though foolish, you half expected to see Abner in his super suit. The polka dot suit and headgear. Instead, he’s wearing a pair of khaki trousers that hugged high over his hips, and a somewhat flashy, silk button-up tucked neatly into the waist. And, dare you say, a fanny pack. His outfit looked straight out of the 70s or 80s. You don’t know the definitive difference between the decades. But his shirt looks clean and pressed, the collar tucked down nicely. He has one leg over a knee, bouncing it rhythmically as he watches the fish swim around the tank in the wall. It looks like he tried to read a magazine, but stopped halfway, finger wedged between the pages.

“Mr. Krill?”

He jerked in response to his name, swinging his head up with a guilty look gleaming in his eyes. You think of a puppy who’s been caught peeing on the carpet. His expression, or perhaps the way his face was structured, reminded you of a puppy too. His face was somewhat sallow, somewhat droopy. Lines indicate a lot of frowning. Like a sad, droopy cartoon dog. His face narrowed down from his eyes, making his red cupid’s bow mouth seem small. A strong, straight nose dominates his face. His big eyes seem dark and questioning. Like a scared, lost child.

Krill quickly shoots up like a bean sprout, shaking his hands out. The magazine drops to the floor. He swears, bends down to pick it up, and anxiously fusses over righting it on the coffee table. You watch the way the glossy purple cuffs wave as he moves about in jerky, quick moves.

“Good morning, doctor,” he greets warily, avoiding your gaze and staring at your shoes.

“You must be Abner,” you smile. You reach out your hand. In a painful, pregnant pause he visibly wavers as he stares at your hand as if you’d stuck out a gun at him. Finally, he reaches out to take your hand.

He has a strong grip. Sweaty hands.

Hastily, he pulls away.

“Nice to meet you. Why don’t we head on back?”

He nods. His legs are long yet his steps uncertain, reminding you of a gangly adolescent. He follows you down the hall from the waiting room and awkwardly stands by as you open the door to your private office. You hear him pat his thighs as he waits. Like a shadow, he follows and sticks close but careful not to touch. Barely making a sound.

After your office door clicks shut, the two of you sit in your respective places. Your desk chair has a high back, cloaked in a fraying, multicolor knitted throw blanket. A bit garish against the dull beige walls and simple yet whimsical desk decorations beside you. There’s a poster that reads It’s OK to feel this way: over a circle divided by colors and sections, listing different emotions.

You pull your knees up and begin to take off your shoes.

Your patient stares in visible confusion.

“Would you like to take your shoes off?” You ask, setting your shoes aside as you straighten up in your chair. “I find it easier to relax without them.”

“Um…” he trails off, his downturned mouth pursing as he considers this. The tension rolling off him makes him stiff and hard to read. All you’re getting from him so far is how much he doesn't want to be here.

You watch him while occupying your hands with things on your desk so he doesn’t feel pressured to make a decision. From the corner of your eye, you watch him swallow, Adam's apple bobbing, and he slowly reaches down to untie and slip off his oxford shoes. He sets them neatly beside his feet. Hands tucked in his lap, sock feet on the ground. Looking up at you somewhat imploringly.

“This is a safe space, Abner,” you smile at him. You have your clipboard and pen in your lap, but you make yourself relaxed and as welcoming as you can. Note-taking can be done later. Visibly, at least. Don’t want to make him think you’re already assessing him before y'all begin to talk. Can’t force him to talk.

Ex-prisoners often struggle with reforming to civilization after release. He couldn’t be forced to attend therapy here despite the outside forces that pressured him to. If he wanted to walk out, he could. Abner was so tense he seemed to be walking on eggshells. He struggled to relax his shoulders, like his limbs were too long for his body. During all this, he hadn’t met your gaze one.

“Whatever we talk about won’t leave this room, unless, for instance, you said you plan to hurt yourself or someone else.”

This gets a reaction out of him. A grimace, a shake of his head. “No, I wouldn’t…”

“Of course not. You’re a superhero now, right?”

He grins. It’s brief, boyish, sheepish. He’s studying the design of your clothes. You consider that progress from your feet.

“You were recommended to me by Dr. Rooney at Belle Reve,” you begin conversationally, baldly, wanting to get a feel of where he was coming from. Your colleague had said Krill was not a violent inmate, but was often verbally bullied by other prisoners. He tended to avoid crowds, thus mostly avoided. More than once he had been on suicide watch. Casually, you glance down at your clipboard. Born in Philadelphia to Augustine Krill--father unknown--and tried and convicted for first-degree murder as an adult in the city of Metropolis. He was incarcerated at Belle Reve shortly after turning eighteen. He was in his early forties now.

You look back up at Abner. He had that sad puppy dog look again, staring at nothing in particular with his neck hunched.

“Did you and Dr. Rooney get along?”

“D-Doesn’t your notes say?”

You make a face. “I want to know what you think of Rooney, not what he thinks.”

Abner didn’t answer right away. “He was okay.”

“Okay,” you echo, licking your bottom lip as you cock your head up. “Okay is better than nothing.”

“We mostly spoke about my mother.”

“Oh?”

“She experimented on me and my siblings. She wanted us to become superheroes,” he said. His voice held much more confidence than anything he’d said so far, but his expression remained unchanged. It was because he kept words void of emotion.

“I see.” Yes, you did see. You had anticipated the topic of his mother coming up if you didn’t ask him about it first in future sessions. Dr Krill was listed in his files as a scientist at S.T.A.R. Labs, and having six children whom lived on site with her. CPC had been called a few times, rebuffed every time by various means other than being convinced nothing was wrong. The whole thing was fishy, especially after the untimely deaths of three of Dr. Krill’s children. The whereabouts of the other Krill children were unknown. All investigations into S.T.A.R. Labs had been terminated by higher powers, even after Abner’s arrest and psychological evaluation.

Abner continues, to your surprise. “I pictured Starro as my mother.”

“You did?”

“It makes it easier, when I convince myself that my enemy is her. I don't like killing.”

You pick up your pen and tap your lip, looking down at the way he was fidgeting his feet. “Did you regret killing your mother”

Abner’s knee stopped bouncing. “No.”

“Do you regret killing the other scientists at S.T.A.R. Labs? The--”

Abner grimaced and brought his hands to his head, tugging on fistfulls of black hair. “I-I didn’t mean--I-I--”

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to answer that today,” you placate with a soft tone, putting down your pen, fingers rubbing along the edge of your clipboard. After a moment of heated silence, you set your things down on the desk and stand up. This makes your patient crumble in on himself, trying to hunch low enough to shield some blow. You smile sadly where he can’t see. “Abner, do you see my poster here? With all the emotions?”

He looks back up, glancing from you to said poster. His attention is answer enough.

“Whatever you feel in this room is valid to you and to me. Not now, but in the future I’d like for you to give me short but detailed descriptions to how you feel on certain things. It's okay to say something you think is taboo or unorthodox. This room doesn't have ears or a head to judge. Do you think you can do that?”

The couch makes no sound as he moves to better see the circle chart of words. Timidly, he nods.

“Great,” you smile sadly and sit back down. “Let’s get back to that later. Today, I’d like to talk about something other than your mother.”

Abner tilts his head. You must be doing something to exceed his expectations, because now he’s looking at you and not at you. “The Corto Maltese mission?”

“No. I want to know about you. I want to talk about Abner Krill. Who are you?”

His blank stare makes your heartache a little for him.

The following silence, where all you can hear is his ragged breath, the whirl of the monitor, and the soft mist of the incense humidifier, is thick. You can cut it with the tip of your pen. The sound of his voice as he speaks is almost staggering. "I am... I am my mother's son."

“No."

He flinches.

"Your mother does not define you. What you think about your mother and how you feel about her should not determine your sense of self or your future. You liked defeating that monster, right?”

Abner nods.

“You’re a superhero because you took action, not because she moved your hand. What you say here today, and any day, should be the same. Do you think you can do this for me?”

“I don’t understand…”

“I want to know the real Abner,” you smile. “Not Dr. Krill’s son.”

He still can’t make eye contact. The fidgeting starts back up. “But, what I am is because of her.”

“Not unless you choose otherwise. Starting today, you and I are going to help define Abner Krill. First, you are not your mother’s son.”

“But I am?”

“No. You are not your mother’s son. You’re Abner Krill, superhero. What does Abner Krill the superhero like to do?”

Understanding slowly started to dawn on him, visible in his eyes as he lifted his slanted brows. Recovering from trauma was no walk in the park, but the two of you had to start somewhere. Rooney over-fixated on Abner’s fixation on his mother and the abuse, and after years of obsessing over it to “fix” him, it seemed to become all Abner could think about. No one had really given him proper trauma recovery therapy, or helped to treat his PTSD. You wanted him to take the first step into self-evolution. No one could do it for him. You want him to define himself other than his mother’s son. Seeing himself as a superhero was perhaps the start of it.

“I-I don’t know,” he frowned. “I like to read…”

“That’s great!” Your enthusiasm startles him. “What sort of things do you like to read?”

“Well… Ah, I-I uh... I like the classics….”

The rest of your session with Abner was mostly casual. The safe topics you steered him to visibly made the man relax. He spoke about the fictional worlds he enjoyed immersing himself in. He liked the classics because they were “soft”. Sweet romances where the only real worries were who’s going to the ball. He didn't like tragedies or novels about war or great violence. With some coaxing, he opens up to talk about his favorite foods, animals, celebrities, songs-- You ask about his (non-virus related) talents or any hobbies he might’ve picked up at the prison or since he’s been out. Steering him away from the topic of his mother confused him in the beginning, leading you to assume he had anticipated mostly speaking about her. He’d been prepared like he might prepare to go into battle.

You know he won’t be able to just brush his mother aside; his virus was because of Dr. Krill. He blamed his 20+ years of incarceration at Belle Reve on his mother’s experimentations. He blamed himself. He hated her. He hated himself. Feared her. Feared himself. It was an inner wound that would never heal, you know this without a doubt, but you hope with time it becomes easier to manage as he takes control and independence of his new life.

“Did you ever go to school, Abner?”

The phantom smile on his face falls, but you haven’t lost him as he turns to you. Looks at your shoulder. “No. We--my siblings and I--were… homeschooled.”

“Right. Well, you at least know what homework is?”

“Yes. Of course. Am--Do you want me to--?”

With a hand gesture you hope is placating, you smile and gently cut him off. “Don’t worry, I’m not assigning you an essay to write or a month-long project to present. I’m not that cruel,” you chuckle. “But I am going to push you a little. Can you try that for me?”

He looks as if you’ve asked him to consider sacrificing his firstborn. Thankfully, he nods as he plucks a loose string off his knee.

“I want to see you biweekly, so schedule with Patrica upfront. Maybe this Friday or Saturday?”

“I-I can do that, yes ma’am.”

"Now, it's your choice to come back or not but it would make me really happy if you did."

His back straightens. "Yes. I'll be here."

“Beautiful, Abner. Beautiful. Sometime this week I’d like you to do something you normally wouldn't do. Go on a hike, join a gym, take a class on cooking or arts and crafts. It can be simply looking up a food recipe you’ve never tried before and making it. Tell me about your experience. If you’re around strangers, how is your relationship with them? If you see something new, how does it make you feel? This isn’t an order, Abner, just a… strong suggestion, mm? All I’m asking is for you to do something new and spontaneous. It can be at home or outside. Your choice.”

Abner licked his lips. It had taken a great deal of effort to convince him to come here at all today. Today is the first time speaking to him, but you’ve had his file for a few days now. You’re a little grateful for that. There was a lot to read. However, it took outside forces such as one Amanda Waller and fellow ex-prisoner teammates to get him to come here. You suspect someone dropped him off if he didn’t take a cab himself. He had no driver's license.

“Ah… Okay. Um, yes miss. Ma'am. Doctor! Ah--”

“You can call me by my name,” you reassure, tilting your head to him. “This is a safe space for you and I. We may be doctor and patient outside that door, but here, we can be as familiar with each other as we'd like. Like old friends.”

He turned to you with a look that sent a thunderbolt of sensation down your spine. Surprise, awe. A silent question gleamed in his puppy-dog eyes. He doesn't respond, brows raised high as he just stares at you.

You cover for his lapse. “I’ll see you in a few days. It was wonderful to finally meet you, Abner,” you say, looking at him without pretenses to hopefully show your honesty. He had an incredible gift that could help save a lot of people, and from what you've learned from recent character evaluations on him he had the makings of a fine superhero. First thing first, he needed to adjust to civilian life after years of being locked up, and years of having nothing but unresolved trauma. All the while, you hold back a rueful smile at his demeanor. You won't say it aloud of course, but he was so cute. Idly, you wonder about his sexuality- but you can ask that another day. For now you wanted him to be a little more daring to try new things and focus on something other than his mother.

You stand up and shake his hand. His grip is a little looser this time, lingering longer, but he moves away quickly, gathers his shoes, and you see him out. His scurrying reminds you of a startled elk. Large yet quick, stumbling over his long legs. Running from you as if you held a rifle instead of a purple glitter clipboard.

It was hard to believe this man had committed mass homicide.

#abner krill #polka dot man #the Suicide squad #abner krill x reader #polkadot man x reader #reader #therapy #chapter one

[rivers-rambles21]

The one with the flipping

Part 10 of The one where Bucky has a cute neigbour series!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader (f)

Summary | Reader and Bucky become friends after he saves her from  a creep in their apartment building. Each chapter explores a different point in their friendship - very slow burn!

Warnings | 18+ only, Smut in later chapters (this is a slow burn), swearing, unprotected sex, oral sex, (later chapters)

We’re starting to see more from The Falcon and The Winter Soldier - there are some bits taken from the show to help shape the story.

We’ll also be seeing Y/N & Bucky texting whilst he’s away

Chapter 10 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 1 | Masterlist

It didn’t feel right with Bucky away. Although he’d only been gone for just over a day you felt the void he left. Over the past few months you’d become inseparable, seeing each other every day - whether it be hitting the gym together, cooking or just hanging out.

After coming home from yet another terrible day at work, you wanted nothing more than to open a bottle of wine and binge watch TV with Bucky who was undoubtedly now your best friend. 

You were two glasses in when you heard a banging outside your apartment door. 

Stepping out into the hallway you were greeted with two cops hammering away on Bucky’s door, nearly breaking it clean off. “Excuse me, can I help you?” 

Both officers quickly spun on the spot and reached for their guns, stopping when they saw you were on your own. “Do you know the man who lives here?” 

“Yes, do you?”

“Ma’am do you know where he is?” 

“No I don’t” You lied, not trusting the two men infront of you. 

One of their radios suddenly turned on “-he’s is now in custody in Baltimore” 

Both cops nodded to one another before turning back to you. “Nevermind ma’am” 

You watched as they left as quickly as they arrived before running back into your apartment, grabbing your phone and frantically calling Bucky. You tried a few more times before stuffing your wallet into your purse and heading for the door. 

Fortunately you managed to catch a last minute flight to Baltimore after confirming with the police precinct they were holding him in . You hadn’t thought twice about going to him, your heart ached at the thought of him being confined to a cell, trapping him like an animal. 

After paying the cab driver your fare, you sprinted into the precinct heading straight for the desk. 

“Hi, you’re holding my friend Bucky -  I mean James Barnes.” You panted, tired from the sprint to the officer behind the desk.

“Who the hell are you?” 

Turning around, you came face to face with someone you instantly recognised. “Falcon” You grinned, a little bit star struck at meeting an actual Avenger. 

Sure Bucky was one too but to you he wasn’t some superhero on the evening news who fought aliens and terrorists, he was just Bucky - your friend who stole your food and listened to your never ending rants. 

Realising you hadn’t answered his question, you continued. “I’m Y/N, a friend of Bucky’s.” You extended your hand out to him which he shook. 

“Sam” He replied, releasing your hand from his. 

“The one who believes wizards are real” You joked, trying to remove the tension. 

“I’ll tell you the same thing I told the cyborg, a wizard is a sorcerer without a hat!”

“Uhuh” You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Have they said when they’ll let him out yet?” 

Sam gestured you to the seating area and sat down. “Once his therapist arrives they’ll let him out.” You sat in comfortable silence for a few moments as the busy precinct bustled around you, cops and civilians passing through constantly. 

Sam was the first to break the silence. 

“Do you want to watch a funny video?”

The first time you watched the video of Bucky jumping out of the plane you were worried sick he’d hurt himself with his terrible landing. But by the fifth time watching it you’d found it hysterical as you laughed along with Sam as you watched the video over and over again from different angles to kill the time. 

Reluctantly, you left the waiting area and headed to the restroom to relieve yourself. When you came back you were stumped to find Sam wasn’t where you’d left him. 

“Excuse me, do you know where the man that was sat there went?” You asked the officer behind the desk. 

“Therapy session” She replied, pointing towards the double doors before returning back to furiously typing on her computer. 

“Thanks” You muttered before returning back to your seat, patiently waiting. 

You didn’t have to wait for long before Sam came back with an annoyed look etched across his face. “He’ll be out in a minute” he said as he passed by you, heading for the exit. 

With a sigh of relief you stood from your seat and adjusted your clothing as you watched the door with eager eyes. 

The moment you saw him through the small windows you felt all the stress and anxiety of the day seep out of you as you saw he was relatively okay. 

Bucky must have been distracted as he didn’t notice you standing in front of him until his eyes landed on you, his mouth hanging open in shock. 

“Hey Buck” 

“Doll what are you doing here?” He asked as he strode over to you, pulling you into him in a tight hug, your face pressed against his warm chest. Your arms wound around his back, pulling him in closer, his scent overwhelming your senses. He left a kiss upon your head before pulling back slightly to look down at you, searching for answers. 

“Cops came to your apartment looking for you, and then I heard they’d got you and I just panicked. Are you okay?” Reaching up, you cupped his face in your hand, your thumb stroking his soft cheek. 

His eyes fluttered closed for a moment before he opened them again, suddenly aware of where you were. 

“C’mon lets get out of here.” Taking your hand in his, he led you out of the station and into the fresh evening air. 

A shiver ran down your spine as the cold air hit your bare arms. In your rush to go after Bucky you’d foolishly foregone a jacket. 

Instantly noticing your discomfort, Bucky dropped your hand and shrugged his jacket off and wrapped it around your shoulders, the leather swamping your form. 

“Thanks” You said shyly, Bucky merely smiled back at you in response. 

“Well I feel better” Sam’s voice broke you out of the moment as he walked up to you both. Bucky opened his mouth to respond before being interrupted by the sound of a siren and flashing lights.

“Gentlemen!” You recognised the voice from the news - the Captain America knock off. “Good to see you again.” 

You felt Bucky's hand slide down your arm to grasp your hand once again as he walked towards the imposter, angling you behind him. 

“Look, if we divide ourselves, we don’t stand a chance, you guys know that.” 

“So what do you got?” Sam asked, rolling his eyes. 

“Well the leaders name’s Karli Morgenthau. We’ve been targeting civilians who’ve been helping Karli move from place to place.”

“They geotagged a location then scrambled the signal. But our satellites have found their symbol popping up in various displaced communities all across Central and Eastern Europe.”

“We think she’s taking the medicine she just stole to one of these camps.” 

“Well, there are hundreds of those all over the planet since The Blip so I guess you’ll have to look real hard.” If it wasn’t for present company you’d have rolled your eyes at Bucky’s sarcasm.

“Good thing I have 20/20 vision, huh?”

“Where is she now, Walker? Do you know?” 

“No we don’t know Bucky. It’s only a matter of time before we find out”  

“Things are really intense for you, aren’t they Walker” Your lips twitched as you fought off a smirk.

“Take it easy. Look Walker’s right. It is imperative that we find them and stop them. But you guys have rules of engagement and all kinds of authorisations you have to get. We’re free agents. We’re more flexible. So it wouldn’t make sense for us to work with you.” 

You all turned to walk away, Bucky squeezing your hand as you did before fake Captain America stopped you in your tracks. “A word of advice then… stay the hell out of my way.” The two men turned and began to walk before Walker stopped again. “Nice to finally meet you Y/N” 

You felt Bucky tense as he turned back to the two men, his eyes glaring at them. Gently, you squeezed his hand and tugged his arm, pulling him back towards Sam, not bothering to respond to dumb and dumber. Looking down at you, he sighed before complying. 

With one last glance behind, you raised your hand as though to wave before smirking and flipping them both off instead - earning a chuckle from Sam.

A few blocks later, Sam hung back to give you and Bucky a moment alone. 

“I can’t believe you came for me doll” Bucky couldn’t keep his hands off you, he kept switching from rubbing your arms to keep you warm and tucking pieces of hair behind your ears. After the day he’d had you was a welcome sight, reminding him that not everything in his life was terrible. 

“Of course I did” You replied, confused as to why he would even doubt it. “I’d do anything for you.” Your confession came as a shock to both of you. You weren’t quite sure as to why you voiced your feelings, maybe it was the day of stress finally getting to you, or the realisation what Bucky and Sam was up to was dangerous and you feared losing him. But regardless of your reasoning, you didn’t regret saying it. 

Bucky's breath hitched as his blue eyes searched yours, looking for the moment where you’d crack a smile and make a joke out of it. But that didn’t happen. 

Gently, Bucky leant forward and pressed his lips against your forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling back. “I don’t want you getting caught up in this doll.” His right hand cradled the back of your head as his eyes sought yours, trying to memorise every part of your face, committing it to memory. 

“I’ll stay out of it, I promise. I just couldn’t bear the thought of you caged up again-” Your voice had become erratic as you processed the days events. Bucky pulled you into another hug, silencing you as he did, his metal hand rubbing up and down your back. 

“I’ll be fine y’know that right? But I have to stop these people Y/N, the serum can’t end up in the wrong hands. I need you to trust me, to trust I know what I’m doing.” 

You merely nodded in response, too caught up in the feeling of being in his arms. 

Bucky pulled away from the hug and stroked your cheek, wiping away the tears you hadn’t realised had fallen. “Cmon, where’s that smile?” 

You couldn’t resist his boyish charm and smiled back at him, although weakly. 

“Attagirl”

__________________

If you’d like to be added to the tag list let me know!

 @xpurpleglitter​

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x you #tfatws

[destinationtoast]

In case it helps anyone to know -- if you struggle, you are not alone.

I think many people who who've followed me or known me for a long time probably think I have my shit pretty together. And in a lot of ways, my life is great, and I have done some cool stuff. But despite that, I struggle with mental health, and my brain is sometimes a terrible place to live. I've spent a bunch of time recently:

Feeling incompetent and like a complete imposter

Feeling like a failure and a disappointment

Feeling like I'll never be able to do any job well and will end up penniless and without healthcare (but still with chronic pain) and an enormous burden to everyone

Feeling like a waste of resources -- "I have so much privilege, and so many advantages, and I squander them by being useless and by not even enjoying my life"

Feeling like I'll never enjoy anything again

Feeling like life will never be anything except stress and despair

Lying awake feeling all my muscles clenched and my heart racing

Having a tremendously hard time getting out of bed

Having an even harder time attending work meetings or doing work

Not being able to eat much and experiencing nausea and digestive issues (where usually I tend to eat larger amounts than usual in response to stress, occasionally it flips and I have to force myself to eat)

Crying unpredictably, e.g. while doing dishes, and having to awkwardly explain to housemates

Feeling numb and impatient and distracted while trying to read/watch TV/browse Tumblr

Feeling So. Much. Guilt. And. Shame. Just constantly.

This is all in spite of the fact that (a) I have substantial and even recent evidence to the contrary about a lot of this stuff (e.g. I got feedback at work not that long ago that I was doing really well and could consider going up for promotion soon). And (b) I've had intense episodes of anxiety in the past and then gotten better, so I have plenty of examples of how these intense feelings don't necessarily predict the future.

Despite all this data, and despite my loved ones telling me wonderful, helpful things, I have spent a lot of time feeling viscerally quite horrible over the past few weeks (as well as for much longer stretches, at times in the past). And parts of my brain have compellingly argued that this will probably last forever.

I've dug myself partially out by talking to a doctor (though I realize healthcare is a privilege not everyone has, though we all should) and getting a short term Rx to help me relax at night enough to sleep. And signing up for therapy again. And discussing longer term possible changes to my meds (I'm on an antidepressant that had been working well till recently). And doing simple breathing exercises. And forcing myself to go do some small amount of work -- especially to make progress on a couple of the things i was most dreading, or to ask others for help with them. And forcing myself to eat and go for walks. And spending time petting kitties. And admitting to my closest peeps that I am struggling, and getting them to say that they'll still like me even if I lose my job. And remembering all those past episodes of anxiety and depression (as well as panicky bad drug trips) that I was sure would last forever at the time, but didn't. And realizing that life is long, and there are many ways to survive and find joy in this world -- and even if I thoroughly fuck up one path, there are other things to try.

I also had to do a big hard thing at work this week that was very stressful (definitely the dread of this has been one contributing factor in my recent spiral). Afterwards, I immediately felt drenched in relief, and feelings of interest and joy and hunger have started to flood back into my life again. "HAHA JUST KIDDING," the unhelpful parts of my brain suddenly said. I still would like to get to a much more stable place mentally, and I'm going to continue to work toward that, and to develop my toolbox for coping. But the sudden easing of some of the terrible sensations feels miraculous, and I'm grateful, and amazed at how fast my internal state can change. And even if maybe it turns out I feel worse again tomorrow, I'm going to enjoy today and try to remember that I did so.

So. If you're struggling, I empathize so much. And it's worth trying to keep in mind that:

Strong feelings of incompetence and/or certainty that the future will suck don't stem from reality. Our brains+bodies sometimes make us feel these things strongly even when actual evidence says otherwise.

That means anxiety/depression is like a bad drug trip. It feels very real, but you're likely to feel at least somewhat differently -- and sometimes substantially better -- if you can hang in there a while.

Just because your brain may be lying to you doesn't mean the resulting struggle isn't real. It's legit hard sometimes to do the basics of survival -- Eat. Sleep. Move the minimal amount needed to get food & water, go to the bathroom, etc. When you're finding those things hard, you're ill. And you deserve time off and self care and a trip to the doctor, if you can manage any of that. If you can't? If you're taking care of others/working or going to school/doing anything else on top of being ill? You're a superhero. I hope you can get others to help take some of your duties for a bit, or to help you book a doctor's/therapist's appointment, or to at least listen and sympathize and send you cute animal pics or memes.

Other people who may appear to have their shit together may not. Many of them are going through big struggles of their own.

The pandemic & state of the world right now are making things much harder for so many people. My doctor (general practitioner) told me that nobody she's seen in the past year is doing that great mentally, and the number of people having acute mental health issues has skyrocketed. Be as kind and forgiving toward yourself as you can manage (in general, and even more so now).

Good luck. Hang in there as best you can. I'm rooting for you. 💗

(Feel free to reblog or to reply, but I may not have energy to respond to comments... responding is hard right now.)

#mental health #anxiety #depression #my stuff #toasty life #long post #50

[starlight-vixen-emiko]

A Pink Rose and A Blue Rose

ao3 ff.net

Woo! I finished! Good morning Lovebugs!

This is the fanfic I promised all of you. I am so excited! I won’t give any context just read it!

But also to note there is slight Chat Noir salt and this fanfic single-handedly destroys the Lady///Noir ship so if you aren’t interested in either subject then please read something else.

So without further ado!

~~~~~

Marinette was finally at her wit's end! Chat Noir's constant flirting during hero time kept on giving her reasons why she just wasn't interested in him.

While battling a giant venus flytrap, Chat was determined to prove how cool he was when she urged him to be more serious while distracting the flytrap.

Ladybug ended up being the big hero of the day while she tied her yo-yo around the fly trap when Chat Noir goofed up and got himself eaten.

When the fly trap finally spit him out, his red rose fell to the ground. And when Ladybug got knocked back by the giant flytrap, she accidentally squished the red rose with her foot.

Looking back, that was a bit amusing. Ladybug was starting to hate red roses and felt like they represented obsessive love.

Chat may have helped Ladybug with the final attack by making the right cataclysm at the right time, but at this point, Ladybug just wasn't impressed!

She never would be.

It was still her lucky charm that saved the day. She wondered if she would've handled it just fine by herself.

If fate forced her and Chat Noir to be partners, then she didn't like it.

Ladybug's earrings beeped, and she was about to turn around and leave without so much as a goodbye.

"Wait, M'lady!" Chat Noir cried. There seemed to be some genuine regret in his deep green eyes as if he finally had an inkling of understanding.

But sometimes you realize something too late, but you'll have no choice but to let the other person be.

"Maybe you should be more serious about the fate of Paris Chat Noir," Ladybug said as she twirled her yo-yo around and swung away.

She realized she felt more at ease finally being done with the Akuma of the week.

But when Marinette was finally alone in the garden, she still felt so much anger inside her.

Chat Noir flaunting at her made her want to roll her eyes to the back of her head. Him saying they were a couple when they weren't! He didn't put her feelings under consideration.

And not to mention him making light of being a superhero when she took her calling seriously. How could that lead to true love?

Marinette had to get her anger out somehow. And she couldn't tell anyone about her relationship with Chat Noir. So she got out her easel and canvas and started painting with passionate fury with scarlet red and amber orange.

It may have been more sadistic than she usually was, but she was painting a picture of a rose burning in fire. Not something painters in Paris usually make when sitting by the garden.

When she finished, she gave a bit of a triumphant smirk before Chat Noir's toothy grin appeared in her mind. She sighed while clutching her paintbrush.

"Marinette?"

A familiar gentle voice that sounded like a melody caused her heart to jump but in a good way.

"Luka!" Marinette cried. She tried to compose herself of her angry face. She didn't want her sweet guitarist friend to think she was mad at him.

But if anything, his gentle voice and soft ocean eyes made her feel something, maybe a bit better.

He had a slight smile on his face as he seemed happy to see her but his ocean eyes showed a little concern.

Before they could say anything, Marinette's eyes widened when she saw a bunch of flowers attached to Luka's bike.

"Luka! The flowers!...... They're beautiful!" Marinette cried.

Luka turned to the flowers and picked up a lily for a moment. "Mylene had all these extra flowers, and she told me to make use of them."

Marinette sat down on the bench, not realizing the smile that formed on her face. Luka still looked a bit concerned, though.

"Marinette, are you alright?" Luka asked.

A bit of panic went through Marinette as she tried to scramble for an excuse to not blow her superhero life.

"Oh," Marinette paused as she mentally pushed herself to say something. "Just life y'know!...Lots of things that make me wanna burst in anger."

Close enough…

It was sweet how Luka showed sorrow for her struggles, but Marinette felt she should probably ask him to leave and hide her painting.

Not that she wanted him to leave, though.

"Can I sit with you?" Luka asked.

God Marinette was in a bind, she was about to say a haste no in response, but then she saw his bike filled with flowers and his guitar and felt he could use a break.

"Sure, Luka, I would like that."

God, this was a bad time to wear her heart on her sleeve, showing his adoration for the kind-hearted punk boy.

Luka gently rested his bike on the end of the bench and sat his guitar on his lap. His eyes widened at the sight of her vent painting, though.

"Wow, Marinette! This painting is amazing!" Luka cried.

Any more sweet compliments from Luka, and she was going to surely lose her mind.

"Oh... It's not my best work, really!" Marinette insisted.

Luka smiled and started playing some chords on his guitar. "You inspired me."

Luka's beautiful music filled her ears, and she couldn't help but close her eyes and be still for a moment. His song was healing and diminished any flashes of memory of a certain black cat.

Marinette's heart always felt more energetic when she listened to Luka's music. When Luka played the last notes, she opened her eyes slowly.

"Sorry, was that too aggressive?" Luka asked.

Marinette smiled. "No," she said. "I adored it!"

It did remind her of her righteous anger, but she also felt relieved that Luka understood her heart.

Marinette pondered. "Sometimes we need to be a bit aggressive…."

Luka smiled and strummed a few strong tunes. "That's good to know because I would do so in a heartbeat to anyone who would bother you, Marinette."

Marinette's face glowed red like Christmas lights. "Oh, Luka, you are the sweetest."

It was a shame she couldn't tell Luka who exactly was bothering her, but Luka wasn't trying to treat her like a damsel that needed her hand held. He was just her precious friend showing his concern, and he would be there if he saw anyone bothering her. But she had to remember she was the hero.

"I'll be ok, Luka," Marinette said with a genuine smile.

I already feel ok with you around, she thought.

"Are you sure?" Luka asked. Luka obviously couldn't take Marinette's worries sitting down.

Marinette moved a bit closer. "Yes, I'm sure," she said.

I can take care of myself. Just be there for me, always… Marinette thought.

Luka was still a bit worried, but he nodded. "Alright, Marinette."

Marinette sat a bit closer to Luka, though, causing Luka's warm grin to return.

"Y'know, my family recently agreed to go to therapy," Luka said.

"Therapy?" Marinette gasped.

Luka shrugged, "Yeah. My mom felt she needed some guidance, and so does my sister." He paused and smiled in a sad way. "And so do I."

Marinette took a moment to ponder. Luka? Needing therapy? He seemed like the last person who needed therapy. Chat Noir needed therapy, and she already felt like going straight to Chat Noir and telling him to go to therapy.

"But Luka!" Marinette cried. "You and your family are wonderful! Not broken!"

Luka shook his head. "We are just a family of imperfect people who need a little help now and then."

"Besides, sometimes I am afraid of my own anger."

Marinette was taken aback by Luka acting as if he had issues to work out. He was far more respectful than other guys she knew.

He looked at her with guilt in his eyes. And it clicked for her thinking about the time he got akumatized as Silencer.

"I'm not proud of when I became Silencer," Luka said., his hair covering his aqua blue eyes from his shame.

Marinette's heart dropped when she saw her sweet friend showing shame and remorse for what he did in the past. He didn't have to! He really didn't! Everything was fine now!

"You were right, Marinette. I was out for revenge. I could've hurt someone," Luka said.

Just then, Marinette took his hand. Luka was a bit stunned as he wasn't used to such a reaction from Marinette. Her bluebell eyes glowed at him.

"No, Luka! You were righteously angry! A rich jerk stole from us, and you were willing to stand up for all of us!"

"...You were willing to stand up for me."

Luka was stunned, and he couldn't utter a word in response to Marinette's sudden declaration.

"And no one has ever stood up for me like that…."

"Not my friends, not even…."

Marinette was almost about to mention Chat Noir or Adrien, but she had to hold her tongue.

Luka squeezed Marinette's hand gently. "Well, my therapist said that anger is the way the mind tells us something isn't right, but I still want my feelings under control."

Marinette turned to Luka again.

"Luka, you are not an angry jerk. You're a hero!" She cried.

You're my hero…

Just then, Marinette and Luka froze, both of them with eyes wide. Both of them blushing, realizing their lips were a bit close.

The two of them backed away for a bit, but their hands still touched, as they both enjoyed the connection of holding the other one's hand.

Both of them still looked a bit melancholy, though, but they shared this feeling together.

"Your feelings aren't anything to be ashamed of, Luka," Marinette said.

Luka let go of her hand and placed his hand on her shoulder. Something that always made Marinette feel at ease.

"Your feelings are as well, whatever they may be," Luka said.

Marinette smiled, and the both of them turned to her burning rose painting.

"Well, I can tell you that I am starting to hate red roses!" Marinette said with a bit of laughter. "It feels like they represent lusty, gross, superficial love!"

Luka chuckled. "Hmm, I see where you are coming from."

Marinette paused as she saw Luka handling the flowers. She made a low gasp as she picked out a single pink rose.

He turned to her and presented the delicate pink rose to her as he gave her that usually loving look.

"I think this suits you better, Marinette," he said.

Marinette's smile grew as she happily accepted the pink rose and held it to her nose to take in the sweet scent.

Luka turned to the painting again.

"You know, I can take this painting off your hands if you don't want it," Luka said.

Marinette winced a bit. "Oh no! I can make you something much better than this painting!"

Did she really just say that?

Marinette scrambled on the bench. "I mean, red roses don't suit you, Luka!"

"Red roses are incredibly common and...Maybe that's another reason to hate them! How can they represent true love?"

Luka smiled at her as Marinette kept pondering.

"If anything, a blue rose suits you more. It's radiant and beautiful and…." Marinette paused, realizing the words from her heart she was letting out.

Luka chuckled, but in a sweet a cute way.

"Blue roses are incredibly rare, though," Luka said. "Not even Mylene has any."

Luka moved his legs to his chest and rested his chin on his knees.

"But it would be nice to find one," Luka said. "A one and a million blue rose just growing in a bush."

Marinette stared at Luka. The sweet boy she adored. One who was beautiful, radiant, and one and a million.

Just like a blue rose.

After that lovely day with Luka, Marinette held the pink rose he gave her close.

She couldn't sleep because of how Luka quickly made her rotten day better, but the night was beautiful and peaceful, and she didn't want to sleep quite yet.

The sweet smell of the pink rose made Marinette think of how Luka was so thoughtful for representing her with a pink rose. Unlike Chat Noir, who represented her with a red rose.

She thought again about Luka's compassion and gentleness, and the words he told her today replayed in her mind like a sweet melody.

Marinette stood up from her bed after the day replayed in her head.

She could search the entire world for a blue rose for Luka. She was Ladybug, and she could explore the whole world until she found one. But on a beautiful night like this, she had to flex her creative muscle.

And it was relaxing sewing cobalt fabric into the shape of a rose as the moonlight shined from her window.

She questioned if she should add sparkles or tie a bow, but then she agreed it had to look realistic and straightforward.

The next day Marinette searched the canals of Paris for the Liberty. When she finally found the Liberty sailing, Luka turned his head and smiled at her.

"Hey, Luka!" Marinette said as she happily waved her hand and ran for the boat.

The boat docked, and Luka moved the gangplank so she could get on board.

"Good morning Luka," Marinette said.

Then Marinette quickly placed her hand on the back of her head and looked down, blushing. "Ok, this is probably short notice."

Luka smiled down at her. "It's great to see you again, Marinette."

Marinette giggled a bit to herself. "Oh yes. A-Anyway!"

She was a bit too nervous about giving Luka a nice gift.

"I-I!" Marinette swallowed to compose herself. "I got you something."

Luka was surprised, but before he could say anything, Marinette presented the blue rose before him.

"Whoa!" Luka cried.

He didn't accept the rose at first, being a bit taken aback.

"It. It isn't real," Marinette said.

Luka blinked.

"Sorry…" Marinette said. "I couldn't find one for you, so I made one."

Marinette started to wonder if the gift was offensive, but then Luka accepted the rose and held it up to give it a gentle sniff, even if it was only made of fabric.

Oh, he was just a gorgeous young man holding that blue rose that suited him.

"I love it," Luka said as he smiled at her.

Marinette started to blush, and then she mentally shook herself. "Oh! No problem!" She cried. "It suits you so much!"

As they spent time together that day, Luka kept the blue rose close and safe as if it were his greatest treasure.

And when night fell, Luka kept the blue rose by the window, enjoying the way the moonlight radiated the cobalt fabric and playing sweet tunes on his guitar that filled the boat.

Juleka noted to herself how in love her older brother was.

Marinette laid on her bed with her phone in hand, pondering if she should tell him.

Granted, she wasn't sure if they were friends or more.

But the biggest thing was she felt a bit more comfortable over the idea of telling Luka than Adrien. So she decided to type down her feelings. Word by word.

Luka, you're an amazing friend. But I think I may like you...Like, like you like you!

The way that's more than just liking a friend.

I mean, my entire world feels better and more colorful when I am with you…

And you know my heart better than anyone else…

This feeling feels stronger every day.

Maybe I like you more than I realize.

I really like you, Luka.

But Marinette couldn't bring herself to send that text message.

It wasn't like those words weren't true, but maybe they wouldn't mean so much in text message form.

She would have just straight up deleted them, but she saved the message as a draft and started with something a bit slower.

Luka, can you meet me again tomorrow? Marinette texted.

Minutes later, Marinette's heart skipped a beat when she got his reply.

I would love to Marinette.

#pro lukamari #endgame lukanette #lukanette #chat noir salt #anti ladynoir #my writing #my fanfiction

[tchallasbabymama]

Gone

Hey y’all, here’s Chapter 6 of Playlist. Check out my masterlist HERE to read the other chapters if you haven’t already, and check out my other stories too!

CW: alcoholism

Word count: 4894

Two months had passed and T’Challa was still not taking it well. He was still internalizing  the guilt he felt for putting Ashanti in harm's way, and it was all he could think about. He felt numb most days, and when he felt anything at all it was grief  over losing his love. Whenever he wasn’t working he hid away in his chambers, staring at the walls and playing sad music. Today his favorite song to wallow to was “Gone” by N*Sync. He laid across his bed sipping from a bottle of whiskey with the song playing on repeat as tears ran down his face. 

There's a thousand words that I could say

To make you come home

Oh, seems so long ago you walked away

Left me alone

I remember what you said to me

You were acting so strange

and maybe I was too blind to see

That you needed a change

Was it something I said

To make you turn away?

To make you walk out and leave me cold

If I could just find a way

To make it so that you were right here

But right now..

I've been sitting here

Can't get you off my mind

I've tried my best to be a man and be strong

I've drove myself insane

Wishing I could touch your face

But the truth remains..

You're gone..

You're gone..

Baby you're gone

Girl you're gone, baby girl, you're gone..

You're gone..

You're…

He barely spoke to his family anymore. Not even N’Jadaka could get anything out of him on their occasional walks when he would visit from Oakland. The king was a steel trap of emotions, and nobody could get in. His cousin could tell something was off, and began to worry about his health so he and Shuri decided to confront him about it. They knew it wouldn’t go well, but they never expected him to insult their intelligence. 

T’Challa had been able to hide his drinking from Queen Mother, but it was hard to get anything past the other two. N’Jadaka had seen friends go down a similar route and he knew the signs, and Shuri had overheard the kitchen staff talking about sending three bottles a night to the king’s chambers. When he was scheduled to leave for a mission with the Avengers she was scared out of her mind that he would get hurt, so right before he left she and her cousin confronted him. He lied to them, for the first time ever, and straight up denied the accusations. Shuri was hurt to her core knowing her brother was in such a bad way that he would stoop so low, but N’Jadaka expected his response. When he left they saw him off as usual, but Shuri broke down in her cousin’s arms after the Talon took off. Ramonda quickly became worried for both of her children when Shuri told her of the burden she had been carrying for her brother. They both internalized too much, and Ramonda had Shuri start therapy immediately. She also had a grief therapist and an addiction counselor on standby for T'Challa's return. She would be damned if she lost her son to his depression.

The Avengers had also noticed a change in T’Challa’s behavior, so much so that even Sam of all people was concerned for him. Thor had tried to lighten the king’s mood with their usual banter, but nothing changed. Wanda tried to regale him with her physics-defying powers to no avail, and Natasha couldn’t get anything out of him in their sparring sessions. Eventually Steve and Sam took it upon themselves to do something, Steve as a friend and Sam as a former counselor. 

“Catman, let me holler at you real quick,” Sam interrupted T’Challa’s brooding on the couch. He rolled his eyes, but reluctantly got up anyway. Sam led him into the kitchen, where Steve was already seated at the large table. Sam pulled out a chair and turned it around before sitting and resting his forearms on the back. 

“Ok, talk. You’ve been moping around the entire time you’ve been here and you’re bringing the energy down-”

“I think what Sam is trying to say is that we’re your friends and we can tell something is wrong... come on, man, you really think I haven’t picked up on your new drinking habit?” he asked in all honesty before trying to lighten the mood a little. “You know, for a cat, you’re not that sneaky.”

T’Challa closed his eyes and sighed. He had hoped nobody else would notice before he could get it together. When Shuri and N’Jadaka confronted him before he left he lied to their faces. He had never done that before, and as soon as the words left his mouth he was filled with shame and had to leave quickly to avoid them prying any more into it. When he looked out the window of the Talon after taking off he saw his baby sister break down in tears, and his heart broke. He decided then and there that he would stop drinking, but it didn’t exactly work out that way. Here he was, a month later and still no improvement. He was doing his best to keep it under wraps, but for once his best wasn’t good enough.

“Problems at home?...Is it about Ashanti? I haven't heard you mention her in awhile.” Steve continued, trying to get something out of him.

A lump formed in the king’s throat and he nodded before averting his eyes to the table.

“She left me.”

He proceeded to tell them the whole story and watched their faces twist in disbelief.

“Wow, that’s...wow,” Steve couldn’t believe it and his heart went out to both of them for what they went through and for what T’Challa is putting himself through now. “You know, for the longest time I blamed myself for what happened to Bucky. It ate me up inside, but you gotta let that stuff go, man. If not, you’re gonna start spiraling out of control, and nobody needs that.”

“He’s right, T.”

T’Challa and Steve looked at Sam in shock, he never referred to him by his name or anything close to it. It was always “Catman” or whatever cat joke he could come up with at the moment. 

“You need to talk to someone before this gets worse,” Sam said in earnest.

He thought back to his mother’s words shortly before he left Wakanda, “I’m worried about you, unyana wam. You have not been your usual bright self.”

T’Challa sat forward, placing his elbows on the table. He decided then and there that he couldn't keep doing this to himself. He was a king, he was a warrior, he was a superhero for Bast’s sake. He couldn’t afford to be a drunken shell of himself anymore, it was going to start catching up to him. He couldn’t keep blaming himself.

“You’re right.”

-------

After the incident, Ashanti moved back in with her parents so they could care for her. Kwame and Binta were over all the time, and Shuri even made a visit to bring her the new pinky she made for her. It took some getting used to how it felt on her hand, but she eventually got the hang of it.

At first, Ashanti was scared to leave her parents’ home, so they found a therapist that made house-calls. It took some time for Ashanti to trust her, but eventually she did and Jamila was able to convince her to go outside for the first time in two months. They stayed in her parents backyard for a few sessions, before Jamila gradually got her to move further and further from the home. After about 6 months, she was able to go to the bazaar on her own. She still wasn’t up for running Taj’s, so she let her new employees Zina and Jafari handle it. So far they had been doing a great job and she wasn’t too worried about getting back to it just yet. She took some time to find herself again, painting for the first time in almost a year and spinning clay at her pottery wheel whenever she felt the need. She caught up on the books she had been meaning to read, and she slowly got back into the habit of running in the mornings. 

 Ashanti surprisingly had no problem with moving back into the house with Binta and Kwame. She missed the twins more than she could verbalize, but really did need her time away. Eventually,  things went back to normal and it was almost as if the chapter of her life that included T’Challa never happened at all.

After a few months the twins pushed her to get back out there and she started dating a River tribe guy she met on her run one morning. She had tripped over a root and ended up falling flat on her face, but luckily another runner saw her fall and came over to help. He was a hot doctor named Zane. After he checked her ankle, he looked up and was captured by her beauty. He asked her out then and there, and three months later they’re still going strong. He was sweet, and smart, and funny, and all the things she wanted in a partner...but he didn't automatically know her favorite flower, and she didn't feel electricity from his touch. His kisses didn’t ignite a flame, just a little spark. He was a great lover, but the passion wasn’t there. 

In short, Ashanti was faking it, but she was too scared to break his poor little heart.

Even her parents and roommates could tell she wasn’t really feeling Zane, so they sat her down to talk some sense into her.

“Why does this look like an intervention?” Ashanti joked when she walked into her kitchen and saw her family seated around the table, all looking up at her.

“Because it is, girl. Sit down.” Kwame pulled out the chair next to him and she tentatively took a seat.

“Sithandwa,” Bisa started , “you know we love you-“

“What’s this about?” she cut her off, nervous and ready to cut to the chase.

“Zane.” Binta and Kwame stated, matter of factly. 

Ashanti knew what was coming. Each one of them had pulled her aside at some point to have what was sure to be the exact same conversation.

“Honey, you’re playing with that poor man’s heart. We can all see you don’t want him, he’s the only one who can’t.” Kwame reached out and grabbed her hand in his.

Ashanti sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes. She hated being called out on her bullshit, especially since it didn't happen often. She knew they were right though, she was wrong for stringing him along.

“He’s a good man, I know, but you both deserve to be with people who want you the way you want them,” Bisa added,

“I know,” Ashanti let out a sigh before hanging her head and collecting herself. “I know, I just- he’s a great guy so I just keep hoping he’ll grow on me. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Everyone seemed to look at each other out of the corners of their eyes without Ashanti noticing. They knew exactly what the problem was.

“Nothing is wrong with you, intyatyambo. You are just still in love,” Chidi cupped her face with his hand and she stared at him in shock.

“No, it’s been over a year. I’m past that now,” she tried to dead the conversation before it went somewhere she really wanted to avoid.

“Are you?” Binta asked. “Because everytime you see his hologram on the news you smile a little without even realizing it.”

“And don't forget when you ducked into a random bathroom and  texted me panicking because you saw Dora Milaje in the bazaar and thought he might be there.” Kwame added.

“I-I just didn’t want to see him, that’s all.”

“Mhm, then how come when I called you were you primping in the mirror?”

“I was not!”

“Sis…” he gave her the look.

Ashanti hung her head again.

“Fine,” she gave in. She knew why she wasn’t feeling Zane and why her palms still started to sweat when she saw pictures or holograms of him and why her heart almost beat out of her chest that day in the bazaar. She still dreamed of him. Her body still responded to the thought of him. Hearing his voice still sent chills down her spine. She still loved him, but she never wanted to admit it.

“Fine?” Chidi asked as he and his wife shared a hopeful glance.

“Yes, fine, you’re right. Happy?” tears came to her eyes, and as hard as she tried to keep them from falling she eventually lost the battle. She hadn’t allowed herself to feel the loss after the breakup, and it was all catching up to her right there in front of her family.

She sobbed on Bisa's shoulder and Chidi wrapped them both in an embrace while Binta rubbed circles on Ashanti’s back and Kwame held her hand. All four of them were relieved to see her finally come to terms with her emotions. They had been concerned that she seemingly blocked out that whole chapter of her life, not sure if it was due to the trauma or the heartbreak or both. Her time in therapy had focused on getting her through the trauma of what happened to her, and barely even touched her breakup. All she had done was lock her feelings in the basement and throw away the key, but they were still there and just as strong as ever.

After a few minutes Ashanti pulled herself together and looked at the people around her.

“I love you all so much,” she was able to get out through her tears and snot. Chidi grabbed some tissue and wiped her face.

“We love you too,” they all responded.

_______

After that day, Ashanti found herself thinking about T’Challa a little more than usual...ok a lot more than usual. Everything she saw reminded her of him, and it was starting to weigh on her. She still felt the same way about being with him, but she missed him more than she could say. Eventually she got the idea to give him a call. She talked herself out of and back into the idea for several weeks, and one day just said “Fuck it” and pressed his contact on her beads. She never got around to deleting it.

The trilling sound that followed filled her with dread. What if he didn’t pick up? What if she’s blocked or he changed his beads? 

She didn’t have time to go too far down that rabbit hole because the trilling stopped and her ex boyfriend appeared in the palm of her hand. They both stared at each other in silence before T’Challa spoke.

“Miss Ashanti, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

She was saddened by his formality but stunned by the smoky timbre of his voice. She had missed it so much.

“H-hi, how are you?”

“I am well, how are you?”

“I’m doing ok.”

“Just ok?”

“Yeah, just ok…” Ashanti trailed off, leading to a long silence between the two. 

“Ashanti, is there something you need?”

“Oh, um, no not really. I just-,” she sighed, “You crossed my mind a couple times and something told me to reach out so I did.”

A small smile appeared on the king’s face.

“Just a couple times? I’m disappointed.”

She laughed, a sound he hadn’t had the pleasure of hearing in over a year, forcing his crooked smile to grow larger.

“Ok maybe a few times,” she said, while smiling back. 

“But seriously,” her voice softened, “how are you T’Challa?”

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up when she said his name, but he wasn’t surprised she still had that effect on him since it happened every time he thought of her. He wanted to answer her honestly, he really did, but he couldn't bring himself to tell her about his drinking problem and stint in rehab a few months ago. He went back and forth on the decision for a few moments before making up his mind.

“I am well now, it has been an uphill battle.”

“I know what you mean,” Ashanti replied before they both just stared at each other in silence for a moment. “Well, I um, I know you're busy, and I didn’t really want anything so I don’t want to keep y-”

“We’re going to be late, baby,” Ashanti was cut off by a gorgeous woman in a red dress entering the room behind T’Challa. She hadn’t even noticed that he was talking to anyone, barely looking up from her beads as she walked back out of the room. T’Challa cleared his throat.

“Unfortunately you caught me at a bad time, tonight-”

“That’s ok! Uh, have fun!” she panicked and ended the call. 

“Why would you just hang up like that?” she asked herself out loud before flopping back onto her bed.

After that embarrassment, she doesn't know if she’ll ever be able to talk to him again. Of all the different ways she imagined that conversation going she never accounted for the fact that he could have already moved on to someone else. She knew it was selfish and hypocritical since she had been with Zane, but something about the idea of him with anyone else made her blood boil and tears come to her eyes. She let a couple fall before getting up and going on about her day.

Late that night as she laid in bed scrolling through her social media she came across an article about the king’s 30th birthday celebration on the 9th. It was open to the public, and for a moment she considered going, but then she remembered the silky, high pitched voice emanating from behind T’Challa and decided against it. She’d rather not have to feel that embarrassment in public. Ashanti shut off her beads and closed her eyes, letting sleep take her for the night.

-------

The drummers were extra hype today, playing their hearts out as all of Wakanda danced and celebrated their king’s birthday. As they partied into the early morning T’Challa spent the whole time glued to his girlfriend Tamala, the Mining tribe princess. She had a habit of being clingy and wouldn’t allow anyone else to steal a dance. Around 1 in the morning, he had finally had enough and excused himself to go to the restroom. Making his way out of the venue, he caught the eye of someone he hadn’t seen in a long time.

“Kwame?”

“My king,” he saluted T’Challa, but he waved him off.

“Please, you know me.”

“Better safe than sorry. Happy birthday man!”

“Thank you, thank you. Are you here alone?” T’Challa’s eyes scanned the crowd.

“No, I'm here with the usual people,” Kwame said, smirking in the king’s direction.

“So Ashanti is…”

“Over in the back corner avoiding you and the aggressive supermodel on your arm,” he took a sip of his rum punch. 

“I can understand that,” the king and Kwame stood there awkwardly, not knowing how to continue the conversation.  “It was good seeing you Kwame.”

“You too!”

The two quickly parted ways and Kwame ran straight to his friends at the table they had commandeered in the back. He sat down on Omar’s lap and told Ashanti of his interaction with the king, leaving out that he told him where to find her. Ashanti noticed Omar’s hands make their way around Kwame’s waist and she wished she could feel the king’s arms around her like that one more time. 

“I knew I shouldn't have come here, why did I let you two talk me into this? He has a girlfriend already.”

“Because your man knows how to throw a damn party!” Binta slurred a little, very obviously teetering between tipsy and drunk. Ashanti rolled her eyes at her ‘your man’ comment but agreed, looking around at all the happy partygoers. She sighed, wishing she could enjoy herself like they were. 

On his way to the restroom T’Challa was stopped by not one, not two, but three separate elders commenting on how good he and Tamala looked together and asking about marriage plans. T’Challa knew the council was anxious for him to get married and produce heirs, but no matter how much he wanted to, he just couldn’t see it with Tamala. She had everything he was looking for, but she was missing a special something. More like she’s not that special someone. She’s not her.

For the rest of the night, T’Challa avoided the elders and slyly kept his eye on Ashanti and her friends. He was mesmerized by her colorful curve-hugging jumpsuit and her natural hair that had grown much longer in the year they’d been apart. Her shoulders seemed to glow and her deep purple lipstick drew his eyes to her lips. His eyes travelled down her body, noticing that she had kicked off her shoes and he smiled fondly, remembering her disdain for heels. She looked up and caught him staring more than once, but he just couldn't stop. Everytime she caught him she’d quickly look away, too embarrassed to hold his gaze. His staring angered Tamala who also caught him staring more than once.

“Do you know her?” Tamala asked with an attitude, standing in his line of vision. T’Challa rolled his eyes because he sensed another argument coming. Tamala was a lot of wonderful things, but jealousy was her worst quality, hands down. He had never been one to have a wandering eye when he was with a woman, so normally her jealousy annoyed him to no end. However, this time he understood where she was coming from. 

“Yes, I do. She’s an old friend.”

“A ‘friend’ huh? Do you think I’m stupid?”

“Tamala, please, not here. This is a celebration, try to be happy. For me, please.” 

The Mining tribe princess rolled her eyes and stormed off, shoulder checking Prince N’Jadaka on the way.

“Yo, me and your girl are gonna fight fight one of these days. Like, for real,” he said as he walked up to his cousin.

T’Challa chuckled as he sipped some more of his non-alcoholic ginger beer. 

“Let's go for a walk in the gardens,” he requested and the prince obliged. N’Jadaka pulled out a pre-roll and lit the tip, passing it to his cousin. “She’s upset because Ashanti is here.”

“Oh! She is, huh? Interesting...I’m surprised she showed.”

“I’m not,” he handed the blunt back to the prince, “she called me the other day. It was a very short conversation but...I still felt something and I think she did too. She looks good, really good. She asked how I had been but I couldn't really tell her the truth... She seems like she’s gotten so much better since the last time I saw her.”

The two walked in silence for a couple minutes passing the blunt back and forth before N’Jadaka broke the silence. 

“So you still love her?”

T’Challa didn’t even have to hesitate.

“Of course, I never stopped.”

---------

The next day, Ashanti and her roommates were all laying in the living room nursing hangovers while they half watched an old classic Wakandan movie. Ashanti was sick to her stomach, but she couldn't tell if it was from the alcohol or the sappy love story she was forced to watch. After it was over, Binta pulled up the news and right as the meteorologist finished explaining the upcoming weather patterns, a huge picture of T’Challa and Tamala kissing took over the screen. Bile rose in her stomach as Binta scrambled to change the channel. Before she could, Ashanti heard the anchor say the very words she dreaded hearing, “Could there be a royal engagement on the horizon?” 

Binta turned the hologram off altogether, and the three of them sat in silence for a while until Kwame couldn’t take it anymore.

“Are you ok?”

“I will be, it’s just rough right now. I’m happy he found somebody though, they look happy.”

Neither twin wanted to pry so they left it at that and changed the subject to food.

“I’m hungry, but I don’t feel like cooking.” Binta said in a huff, throwing herself back into the couch..

“Mood,” Kwame and Ashanti replied. 

“Ooh how about I grab some food from my parents? They’ve been wanting me to stop by,” Ashanti offered. 

“Bast bless you, my child.” Binta grabbed her hand and kissed it.

Ashanti threw her shoes on and was out the door in no time flat. She needed to get out of the house and clear her head. They looked so happy…

She was on autopilot when she reached the restaurant, barely even shooting a glance towards Taj’s before immediately heading back home. Chidi and Bisa could tell there was something bothering her, but chose not to pry.

Almost a week passed by with her being forced to see the new “it” couple everywhere she turned. It was starting to get to her so she called Jamila for a session, which turned into Ashanti seeing her on the regular. After a couple more months she no longer felt weighed down by her seemingly unrequited feelings for T’Challa and was genuinely ready to move on. She even downloaded a dating app on her beads and started meeting new people. Nothing really came of it, but she enjoyed herself nonetheless. Ashanti threw herself back into work, mostly focusing on her commissions while her employees handled Taj’s. Princess Shuri had spread the word about the artist after she received her necklace and since then Ashanti’s business had been booming. Everybody from farmers to nobility was knocking down her door for a custom piece. She even made a necklace for Shani, Chieftess of the Jabari. thAll was going well in Ashanti’s life and her therapy sessions were working, so when she saw the news of the royal engagement she allowed the grief to wash over her before shaking it off and going on about her day. On the other side of Birnin Zana, King T’Challa sighed as he watched the media coverage. He knew she was out there somewhere having to see it and he pushed back against the feeling of guilt that often tried to overcome him. He had to do it, though. He had been pushing the council to allow immigration into Wakanda and they just wouldn’t budge, just like he hadn’t budged on the issue of betrothal. It wasn’t until he announced to them that he had plans to marry Tamala that the council started to see things his way. This way everybody would be happy. He would be able to open up Wakanda more to the Lost Tribe, and they would have a queen and hopefully, soon after, an heir to the throne. A week later the news leaked to the press somehow and it quickly became all anyone could talk about.

During his weekly visits to the Merchant tribe T’Challa tended to avoid the Bazaar for fear of running into Ashanti, but this time he decided to venture in. People greeted him as he walked through, perusing the merchandise, and stopping periodically to chat. This is why he loved coming there, everyone was always so cheerful and bright. He had crouched down to talk to a nine year old girl who wanted his attention, and on his way back up he saw a woman in a purple headwrap walking out of a storefront, going in the opposite direction. He would’ve recognized that walk anywhere. T’Challa wanted to call out to her, but didn’t want to embarrass her or start a scandal. He watched her turn the corner and disappear from his sight. The king said goodbye to the little girl and her baba before heading off in the same direction she went, almost leaving his Doras in the dust. When he rounded the corner he stopped abruptly at the absolute vision staring right back at him. She was in shock, obviously not expecting to run into her newly engaged ex.

“T’Challa, h-hi.”

“Hi,” he said back, wanting to kick himself for not being more articulate.

“Um, congratulations on your engagement. I saw the news, well, everywhere.”

“Oh, uh, Thank you.”

“What brings you down here?”

“Just my usual weekly rounds.”

“Oh yeah, I remember those.” She smiled at the memory and his heart thumped a little louder in his chest at the sight. “You always looked forward to Mondays just for that…”

“I still do.”

They both awkwardly stood there, neither one of them saying what’s on their mind.

“Well, I uh, I have to go open up the store. I’ll see you around T’Challa.”

There was so much that he wanted to say, but he just couldn’t get it out. Being in her presence again after so long had him freezing up, something he never did.

She saluted him and winked before turning around and heading towards Taj’s. He couldn’t help but watch her hips twitch as she walked away and something told him she knew he was watching. She did.

Next Chapter

Taglist:

@maddeningmayhem, @theblulife

#cecewritessometimes #black panther fic #t'challa x oc #t'challa #playlist #black!oc

[sincerelymarinette]

A Recorded Life Sequel (10/10) - Miraculous Ladybug

Words: 2033 Summary: In the finale, Adrien confronts his father and Marinette and Adrien have a date they deserve. Author's Note: Well, here we are, the last chapter! I've been writing this story for over 2 years now and I'm so happy people have enjoyed it so much. Thank you all for reading and sticking with me! I hope you like the finale :) <3

Prev / Masterlist

Breaking News

---

Adrien waited in the cold room that he had not dared to visit in years. He thought for a long time, and finally made the difficult decision to make the trip. He'd been haunted with trauma and nightmares since he was a teenager by this man, but it was high time he went to see his father again, especially if he intended not to see him for many more years.

The doors opened, and Adrien shot up to straighten his posture when he saw his father entering the room with a guard by his side. His hair was flat, which always caught Adrien by surprise, and Gabriel's scowl was deeper than Adrien ever knew. Gabriel wouldn't admit it, but he was surprised that Adrien came to see him. Last time, their conversation did not end well, and Adrien promised he would not come to see Gabriel unless it was serious.

But after many meetings with his therapist, Adrien decided that this was important enough to see Gabriel. It was a few weeks after the fashion show, but he was sure Gabriel was going to criticize it as much as he could.

"Hello, Adrien," Gabriel said as he sat down across from his son.

"Father," Adrien replied. Though Adrien was older now, and doing much better, he was still scared to talk to Gabriel and did everything in his mind to calm himself down.

They stared at each other for a moment in silence, neither one sure how to converse. Finally, Gabriel took a breath and spoke. "I watched some of the fashion show you and Miss Dupain-Cheng hosted."

"I wasn't sure if you would be able to. It was a nice day," Adrien said, not asking for his opinion, but sure he was going to get it.

"I would have done it differently. The timing was off, and you could have had better music. You had your designers redesign some of my work?" Gabriel criticized.

"Well, all of our reviews praised the music and said the models were amazing. And yes, I did. To fit our rebrand and new mission and values. No one wants to wear something that Hawkmoth designed anymore," Adrien said, holding back every muscle in his body to not roll his eyes.

Gabriel shook his head condescendingly. "You're being dramatic."

Adrien took a deep breath to calm himself down before answering. "Maybe. But all of my reviews recently have been better than they were when you were in charge. They like seeing me so active in the company, and our lines launched in stores recently, and business is booming. So I must be doing something right," Adrien said, confidently. Gabriel's jaw dropped, but Adrien continued to talk before Gabriel could interject. "I only came here to tell you one thing, father, but it turns out I actually have more."

"Go on," Gabriel said after composing himself.

"My time in therapy has helped me deal with everything you have thrown at me, and I know you don't approve of it, but Marinette and I are happiest together. We are running The Fashion House together, and we are sure it will be better than you could have ever dreamed. I hope you learn from your time locked away that what you did was harmful, but I know you won't," Adrien spit out, not thinking twice. "And I am going to continue to be happy with Marinette and my friends for the rest of my life, running Emilie's together and keeping Paris safe."

Gabriel shook his head again, not wanting to hear it. "I will be out of here eventually, Adrien, and I will take back what is mine."

"The Fashion House is mine now, and you're going to be stuck in here for the rest of your life. You're delusional if you think you, Paris' Supervillain, is ever going to get out of here," Adrien said. "It's a shame you turned your grief for my mother to evil and will miss out on the rest of my life, but I don't care anymore. It's clear you don't." Adrien didn't wait for a reaction from Gabriel, grabbed his coat, and stood up to walk out of the room. He was scanned out as Gabriel was brought back to his cell, still a bit shocked by what Adrien said to him.

---

It was a warm summer day in Paris, and Marinette and Adrien finally made time for themselves to have a nice date. They had spent so much time working day in and day out, that they decided they could be a little selfish and take the day for a date. No Kwamis, no cameras,  and no one around. It was a nice, well-deserved break for both of them.

They decided the best date to celebrate all they've been through the last few years was to get out of the busy part of the city, and back to the park near the Bakery and the school where they met. The park they spent many days fighting Akumas and filming videos with their friends. Maybe they could even catch a ride on the carousel.

They set up the picnic blanket and started laying out the food. Sandwiches, chips, crackers, and the dessert they got from Tom and Sabine when they stopped by for a quick chat before the date. Marinette's parents were the exception to the no people rule.

They started eating as they relaxed. Every time they came back here, they were always flushed with memories, more memories than what usually came back when they would only visit the bakery. "I'm glad we finally have some time to ourselves. Don't get me wrong, the past few weeks with all the lines coming out has been amazing," Marinette started. "But it's nice to have a few minutes to breathe fresh air."

"I agree, and not have the endless amount of questions ten hours a day," Adrien laughed. "I love what we're doing, but man, it's been tough. Hopefully, now that the rebrand is completed, it will calm down just a bit."

"I bet," Marinette nodded. "Now we just have to worry about new meetings for our fall and winter lines!" She said.

Adrien nodded with her as he took a bite of his sandwich. "I'm happy we chose to come back here; it's been a while since we've been to the park."

"Oh yeah, and it's really nice to not have our date interrupted by Akumas. It's been years, but I still worry," She admitted.

"I know. Nooroo may be living in the box happily, but it's still a valid fear. But you're such a great guardian I know there's nothing to worry about," He complimented.

Marinette rolled her eyes. "Flattering only gets you so far, Agreste," She told him.

Adrien shrugged and looked around the park, remembering how much has changed. Photoshoots, videos created with his friends, projects from school, and now dates. "I saw my father yesterday,"  Adrien said.

"Is that where you got off to?" Marinette raised her eyebrow. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I wasn't planning on it; I just kind of ended up there," He said. "Well, I was planning on seeing him, just didn't think it would be yesterday. He didn't approve of our show or how we're running the Fashion House, but I told him I don't care. I was going back and forth on asking him some things, but then I saw how he is, still planning revenge and hoping to get out of prison, and I realized I don't care what he thinks. I haven't for years, and I don't need to tell him when I'm going to do something or need his permission. Then I stopped by the bakery to reward myself with talking to your parents, who actually enjoy having me around," He said, not aware that he was rambling about the whole experience.

Marinette put her hand on Adrien's shoulder to catch his attention. "Well, it sounds like you made some good self-discovery and figured you don't need your dad. I'm happy to hear that, because your dad really sucks," She said, with a slight smirk on her face. "What were you going to ask him?"

Adrien shook his head to brush it off. "I ended up bringing it up to your parents, because it's much more important to me that they approved of my ideas. They're good people, Mari."

"So you've said. Is everything okay?" She asked, a little worried he was beating around the answer.

Adrien took a deep breath and nodded slowly. He took another bite of his sandwich, and the meat inside fell out the other end and onto his pants. Adrien started to sift through the basket for the extra napkins as Marinette watched him closely. He slowed his searching as he began to talk. "Yeah, I think I'm better than ever, actually. You mentioned the Akumas earlier, and my dad and Hawkmoth were horrible. And though endless amounts of bad things came from him, there were some good things that came from it that I wouldn't want to change," Adrien said.

Marinette cocked her head, waiting for him to elaborate. "Us becoming superheroes, working with our friends closer than ever giving my mom her proper burial. Us finally becoming a couple; that one I wouldn't ever want to change," He said and looked back at her with a small smile. He pulled the extra napkins out and removed some off the top, revealing a black box underneath. Adrien opened the lid as Marinette was putting together what he was saying and saw the sparkle from the sun once it was opened. "Marinette, will you marry me?" He asked.

Marinette's jaw was dropped as she looked at Adrien. "Was this what you were going to ask Gabriel? If he was okay with us getting married?" She asked.

"Yes, but like I said, I don't care what he thinks. Then I asked your parents, and they said they've been waiting for it for years, so of course they thought it was a good idea," Adrien said.

Marinette giggled and nodded. "Of course, I would love to marry you, Adrien."

Adrien's smile grew wide, and he leaned forward to kiss Marinette. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too."

---

BREAKING NEWS: ADRIEN AGRESTE AND MARINETTE DUPAIN-CHENG ENGAGED!  By: Alya Césaire <link>

oh my god oh my god oh my god

ITS HAPPENING PEOPLE THE ADRIENETTE WEDDING WILL BE HAPPENING

first alya and nino, now adrien and mari, how will i ever cope seeing them grow up like this

took them long enough! happy for you guys

i remember when adrien first appeared in one of marinette's videos and people shipped them from the start, look where we are now

how it started, how it's going

this is going to be the biggest wedding EVER

will they have the wedding in the backyard of the mansion like they said in the "if we were dating" video from before they were dating

this is the best news of the year

Marinette laughed as she read the Tweets in their trending section, happy to see how excited everyone was. Fans from when she first started her channel following her for years and years, to now watching her get engaged and eventually married. Her parents and friends were beyond excited for the two of them, already ready for the parties and the big wedding (if they decided to go big, that is), and couldn't wait for all to come. Gabriel obviously did not approve, but no one cared, as Marinette and Adrien were going to be happy together without room for negativity.

The Kwamis were excited to shower the wedding with magic, and Marinette couldn't wait to document her road to the wedding. They had to plan, she wanted to make her dress, and she was planning on having a cake tasting session with her parents. Even if they decide not to go big, the celebration with their friends would still have all the fun aspects of a big wedding.

It had been a long few years of battling Akumas and Adrien's father; Marinette and Adrien deserved to be unapologetically happy.

---

@lady-of-the-roses-and-lilies @bookishserendipity03 @avatheexceed @gkz10 @coccinellegirl @kat-thatoneweirdo @strawberryblondish @snow-swordswoman @lilgaga98 @evufries @toodaloo-kangaroo

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #miraculous ladybug and chat noir #ml #mlb #ladybug #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien agreste x marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #adrien x marinette #chat noir #alya cesaire #fanfiction #fanfic #marichat #ladynoir #adrienette #adrinette #ladrien #a recorded life #lilly writes

[gypsydanger01]

THE STORM - Part eight

Fandom: The Boys (Amazon prime tv series)

Pairing: Black Noir x OC

Disclaimer: I don’t own The Boys, only my OC characters and certain pieces of au plot.

A/N: So here’s part eight!! It’s the first of two parts I’m dedicating to the Origins of the OC character. It explains her ties to Vought and the reason why she’s plotting against them. There is no Black Noir in this chapter :( but it’s important for the story. The next chapter will explain her connection to Mallory, and then after that you’ll be seeing much more interaction with our boy Black Noir!!

Comments, reviews, constructive criticism, and other requests are always more than welcome!

    Posting new chapters on Wednesday and Friday!

The Beginning

That night she found herself running in her dreams, just as she did every time she let herself sleep. It always revolved around the beginning of it all, the birth of what plagued her and would haunt her for the rest of her life. She always found herself back at square one, Vought Laboratories.

When she’d been diagnosed with a rare form of immune disease, her parents had been devastated at the lack of resources or therapies available. They’d do anything for her, and they scoured the country’s best hospitals and universities for medicines and potential therapies. Greg and Tara wanted their little girl cured, they wanted her to get a chance at life.

Finally, they found an experimental drug going through clinical trials that might’ve proved successful in correcting the genetic error that was triggering her immune system into attacking her own cells. A team of recruiters from Vought had approached them one day at a hospital, while she’d been getting ready for a check-up. They said they’d investigated her case and had spots available in their trials should she want to try it out. Since the medicine was still under observation, they could only assure an 85% rate of success, and at a lower price. They visited their home multiple times with fliers, power points and data. They assured her parents of the drug’s safety. While it worked in 85% of the patients it never demonstrated any kind of risk or dangerous counter effects. Her parents stayed skeptical for many months, asking questions, and raising concerns, but what ultimately pushed them was their daughter’s heart failure and hospitalization.

She was nine at the time. And as her time quickly diminished, Greg and Tara hurried and signed her up for the program. The experts and physicians at Vought visited her and gathered all of her information before quickly drafting the appropriate dosage for her. She’d have to stay at Vought Laboratories’ clinic far from the city, isolated from the outside world. They had explained this by pointing out the fragile state of her immune system, and the need for her to recover in a safe environment. Lies, so many lies.

The first months went by smoothly, and while she missed her parents, the little girl played with her new friends enjoying the renewed energy coursing through her body. She could run again, and dance and hop without needing to lie down. She could see her parents through a glass window during visitation day every week and they, too, felt relief when they saw her so lively, so different from the pale, skeletal figure she’d been after her hospitalization. Tara felt horrible over the first weeks of not having her at home, not being able to care for her and simply hold her daughter. But when she saw her on the other side of the glass pane, she couldn’t imagine stripping this opportunity away from her.

“Mommy, mommy, look,” the little girl would call while twirling and running around the room, jumping in excitement.

Tara pressed her hand against the glass, eyes brimmed with tears.

“Yes, honey, I see—you’re so strong now.”

The little girl just nodded enthusiastically.

A year later is when the trouble started. She had almost reached the end of therapy when she was moved to another section of the clinic with another small group of kids ranging from about ten to fourteen years old. They were shown a power point explaining their purpose in the project. She hadn’t understood at that time, but she now knew what they meant to say was “guinea pigs.” Basically, the drugs they had been taking had modified certain sequences in their genome in a way that diverged from other subjects. They wanted to understand why, as well as see how far they could go. They concluded by saying that they might end up with powers.

Now, superheroes already existed even though they weren’t yet such an important trademark. But people believed they were born that way. And here you had scientists telling young, impressionable children that they could develop powers even though they weren’t born with them. One can only imagine how they awaited with glee for the program to start.

The children saw their parents less and less, and this was explained by their busy schedule of medical visits, tests, activities, school, and sports which were all provided in this secluded, isolated section of the clinic. What they were actually doing was being subjected to insane amounts of physical and psychological stress. Now the drug had proceeded to cure and further improve their cell genes, but there was a need for an environmental stressor to induce the mutation’s manifestation. They had to wake these new, dormant genes, and for this reason they did atrocious things.

One kid, Norman, presented a gene that is found in organisms that can breathe underwater. They proceeded to force him underwater and keep him there until he was on the brink of drowning.

Another one, Chloe, was thought to be able to heal as her genome held a gene commonly found in animals capable of regrowing a limb, such as lizards. They cut, burned, and maimed her for results.

Some of the children ended up developing a reaction to the duress, awakening their evolved genes. Others died from the intensity of the physical torture. And of those who successfully became enhanced, only few ultimately survived due to the instability of their mutation.

A comment frequently noted by the physicians when taking the patients’ parameters was that the reaction, the gene’s manifestation tended to grow stronger and stronger ‘till it became unsuitable for life. In other words, it ended up killing the host.

Greg and Tara’s little girl too endured the process to achieve greatness, as they had called it. And at first, she’d been enthusiastic, dreaming of becoming a superhero. She stayed up late after-hours skimming through comic books brought in by the therapists. Only later would she understand they had preyed on their naivety and dreams. The children grew obsessed with becoming like the characters in the comic books. The little boys dreamed of becoming like Homelander, and the little girls dreamed of flying.

Greg and Tara couldn’t know that their little one, instead of learning in class, spent her morning being constantly electrocuted. The physicians had high hopes for her and projected that she’d be able to conduct great amounts of energy through her body without burning or dying from electrocution. Her feet in freezing cold water, she sat in a hard, metal chair with a wired contraption wrapped over her forehead.

Every day, she was subjected to shocks of increasing intensity. They talked of “jerking her awake,” hoping that the right shock would trigger her genes into working against the effects of the shock. Finally, one morning, the pain subsided, and she began to absorb the energy rather than try to escape it. It felt odd to her, a warmth pervading her completely. The physicians were beyond content, they were amazed by her abilities. She was a success. They quickly learned she was able to absorb different forms of energy and transfer it. She practiced sticking a finger in an electrical socket before touching the objects laid in front of her. Immediately, the object would fly away, scalding hot.

But the initial glee of having powers slowly faded away, and the girl who was turning twelve wanted it to be over. She just wanted to go home. She yearned to call her mommy and daddy to come and take her away, and every time she saw a cell phone laying around, she subconsciously moved towards it. Unfortunately, she didn’t know their numbers.

She talked about it with the clinic’s therapist.

“Why is this coming up now? Is something wrong?”

The girl fidgeted in her seat, “I just want to go home.”

The therapist gave her a stretched smile, cold and far too wide.

“I understand you miss your mommy and daddy, but you have to stay so we can make sure you’re okay.”

She whined, “But I’m doing better.”

“I know, honey, but—”

The little girl grew fussy and cut her off, “I want my mommy.” When the therapist began to comfort her with empty promises, that distinct feeling of total warmth spread throughout her body. Her eyes shined a light blue, like lasers ready to sizzle anything in front of her, and the therapist immediately stopped speaking.

“There’s no need for that, we’ll set up a visitation day,” she quickly granted, gathering her folder and leaving the room.

The girl grew increasingly aggressive and wouldn’t allow the physicians to touch her. She didn’t want anyone but her parents.

When the day finally came, her parents were ecstatic to see and spend some time with her after two weeks of not being able to contact her. The therapy had worked, and they were thankful to Vought, but what they saw that day haunted the last few minutes of their lives. Their daughter looked ghastly, caramel skin chalky and dry. Her eyes were tired and dark bags hung under her eyes. To her mother’s horror, she looked as sick as her days in and out of hospitals before Vought’s medications. Tara pressed her hand to the glass, tears running down her face. The little girl immediately ran up to the glass, speaking fast.

“Please, I wanna go home,” she pleaded over and over, like a mantra of desperate hope.

Her father grew agitated and turned on her therapist who was also in the room to smooth things over. Certain things couldn’t be said and leave the building. It would bring the world’s ethics community down on all of their heads. This was worse than pumping Compound V into newborns. This was altering children’s DNA and torturing the survivors into an enhanced state of being.

“What happened to her? She was doing so well,” he exclaimed.

“Mr. Stacker, please there is no need to yell,” his face twisted in anger as she continued, “She has been rejecting the medications, we believe she hasn’t been taking them regularly as she’s supposed to.”

“She’s almost twelve, you’re supposed to check that she does that.”

The little girl was crying at this point, banging her little fists soundlessly against the glass.

“Mommy, help me.”

The therapist tried to grab the distressed parents’ attention, “If you could follow me, we can talk about this in more detail.”

“We can do that here,” Greg countered, “we’ve been here for not even five minutes and our daughter is crying out to us—you think we’ll just leave her?”

“No, sir—I just assumed—”

The girls pleading voice cut through her parents’ hearts, “They’re hurting me.”

Her father stared at her. What had they done? The choice had been difficult and ultimately, they decided between the therapy and her disease, between life and death. But if they were hurting her for all this time, it wasn’t life. It was solitary pain.

Tara was crying as she too turned on the therapist who wasn’t sure how to save the situation. Her father firmly stated what they’d both already decided, “We’re taking her home.”

“But sir, you signed a contract—”

“I don’t give a damn, she’s coming home—we can bash this out in court if you care about this contract that much.” He leaned closer, “But I’m sure you don’t want this whole project leaked, do you? What are you actually doing here?”

The therapist plucked her com from her pocket and quickly spoke into it, “We need security in visitation room number nine, I repeat, visitation room number nine.”

Tara erupted, “What do you mean security? You can’t take us away from her.”

“Like I was trying to say, the contract—"

The distressed mother screamed, “We don’t give a fuck about the contract—fucking sue us.”

And then all mayhem erupted. Four security guards burst into the room and quickly grabbed a hold on the two parents, trying to cuff them. Tara looked back at the little girl as they resisted.

“We’ll get you baby, okay? Marianna, look at me, you’re coming home.”

Her father punched a guard before being hit in the ribs with a baton. He fell to the floor and they were all onto him, beating and beating, not giving him the chance to stand back up. Tara screamed and tried to pry them from her husband before one swung at her and pushed her into a corner. The therapist quickly fled the scene, her heels clicking away.

The little girl watched and watched, and when she saw her father stop moving, when she saw her mother being tossed away, something snapped. It was like her center shifted, and an all-consuming anger pervaded her senses, taking over.

It happened so fast, her eyes lighting up, the building shaking, then the shattering blast.

When the dust finally settled, there was nothing left but a crater and a little girl lying amid the smoke and ashes. Curled up in a ball, shivering, she was the bomb still intact. She was the eye of the storm.

MASTERLIST

Tag list: @ateliefloresdaprimavera @ellejo @dust-bun @coco724 ​  @proximio-5 @damiminator @omegahighendpro @rpgluvr95 @sweetrabbitteamx

#the boys #the boys amazon #black noir #the boys tv #the boys black noir #OC #oc story #black noir x oc #flashback #fanfiction

[sxveme-2]

blueberry pancakes // bucky barnes

MASTERLIST

Description: A single mother. Juggling being a mom, a full time pediatrician, and a difficult ex who believed now would be the best time to finally be a father. A soldier ripped out of time. Ex-assassin turned superhero. Learning how to balance a new domestic life with handling demons of his past, while facing the trials of the future. a love story began over something as simple as chocolate chip pancakes with hidden blueberries.

Disclaimer: I do not own any original Marvel characters! All canon plots and canon characters belong to Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. This is an original work. You may not publish it anywhere else

Status: Unedited

Note: Takes place after endgame. I have elected to ignore Tony's death and Steve's leaving. Did not happen. Quick Reminder! My works are only published here, AO3 and on Wattpad, thank you.

Chapter Thirty: The One With His View

Warnings: Weight loss

Word Count: 2376

    Bucky's POV

   Bucky sat in his bed with his arm laying detached beside him. His eyes stared down at the photo of Hunter and Lily on the beach, Joey there with them. His glassed over eyes focused on that bright beaming smile on the blonde's lips. One he hadn't seen in person for over a month now. One that he only saw in his dreams at night, or in the photos on his phone.

    Scattered around his apartment were printed photos of her that he had taken. The day after she broke up with him he had them printed out, just to have her in his hands once more. Her bright eyes crinkled at the sides as he took sneaky photos of her, ones he only showed her the night he took them, to avoid her from dodging him. She always hated having her photo taken, but he just couldn't help himself.

    She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

    He ran a shaky hand through his grown out hair, tugging gently on the roots, just as she always did. He ran those same hands down the front of his face, his overgrown facial hair scratching the callouses that he earned over the years. Glancing down at his phone, the brunette sighed. May 3rd. Her birthday was tomorrow. He could only take a guess how she was celebrating it.

     Her and Hunter probably sitting on the couch with Chinese, Gen and Rose occupying the other sofa as a cheesy rom-com played on the TV. When Hunter went to bed, she'd probably change it to a horror movie. He never understood how she enjoyed them so much. To Bucky, horror movies were something he could never get on board with, yet Lily adored them so much, he would sit there with her. He would typically end up curled into her side, wincing whenever there was a loud noise from the screen.

    But she'd never say anything about it. She'd just chuckle and call him a "big ol' baby", and kiss the top of his head before throwing more popcorn in her mouth.

     Her favourite was The Nun. Bucky despised it. Whether it be her desensitization to it, or her strange love for things that made her yelp in fear, she would watch it so often. Eventually, Bucky actually opened his eyes for some of the more scary parts. But he always ended up curled into her side once more, breathing in her scent to sooth him. She'd never watch ones that were more so thriller based, the psychological ones that messed with peoples heads and typically involved person to person violence though. He knew she watched them alone, but wouldn't with Bucky.

     Because he told her what they did to him mentally. So she didn't. Because his comfort was always her main priority, especially with his trauma.

     The alarm on his phone blared, sending a jerk through his body. Glancing down, Bucky groaned. He had therapy in half an hour, which meant he had to leave now. He'd managed to dodge the conversations about Lily with his therapist, but the Doctor knew that. Which meant, sooner or later, she would pry and get him to open up about his heartbreak.

-----

     "Lily was her name, right?" Dr. Raynor asked, tilting her head as she stared down the man across from her.

     "I'd prefer not to talk about it." Bucky stated simply, readjusting in his seat on the couch.

     "Mmm you said that a month ago. Then again three weeks ago. Then again two-"

     "I get it."

     Bucky knew that his luck would go against him. Of course Dr. Raynor would bring her up the day before her birthday. As her present sat heavy in his coat pocket. He'd carried it around with him for the past month, never letting it far from his sight. So much sat inside of the case, begging for her.

     "She has a son. I have that here in the notes. You loved him, and even saw him as your own," the Doctor began, crossing her legs, "did you imagine having a family with her yourself, James?"

     "We were a family already," he stated softly, voice cracking halfway through, "from the moment I first stayed at her house, we were a family."

     "Let me rephrase," Dr. Raynor continued, tilting her head, "did you imagine having a child of your own with her?"

     Yes. The answer was yes. He pictured it in his head whenever he saw her with Hunter, or pictures of her with Hunter when he was a baby. What Bucky would have given to be there for her then, to have been Hunter's father since birth. But he took what he could. Instead, he imagined her pregnant with his child. They'd talked about it briefly. Both agreeing they'd love to have a little girl, name her Stella, or Amelia, something classic. They even tossed Rebecca back and forth, for Bucky's sister. In the end they decided on Rose-Rebecca for a middle name instead. For a boy, they came up with Wyatt or Theo, with Steve as the middle name.

     They'd imagine their home. Somewhere in the countryside, a large backyard for Hunter and their other kid. A dog or two, maybe even a cat. Lily wasn't fussy on the idea of cats, not their biggest fans. But Bucky always wanted one.

     "You told me two months ago you planned on retiring," Dr. Raynor commented, pulling him out of his thoughts, "Was that to settle down with her? And start that family of your own?"

     "Yes." He stated, voice loose and breathy.

     "Did you end up following through with it?"

     "Yes."

     "How do you spend your days now?" she pushed, trying to get the truth out of him.

     "I volunteer at the old folks home near my apartment," he answered honestly, sighing as he spoke, "Tony offered me a job at the tower but I'm not sure I want to take it."

     "What was the job?"

     "Talking to retired veterans, young and old." He stated softly, fiddling with his gloves.

     "Does Lily know this?"

     He shook his head. He'd debated calling her over the last few weeks. Wondering if she'd even pick up. He drove past her street once, before doubting himself and refusing to ever step foot near there again. Too much pain followed when he realized he wouldn't have anywhere to go on that street. He wasn't allowed back at her place, not after she told him to get out, and said goodbye. With her back to him.

     "Have you had any contact with her son?"

     "No. No, I won't do that to him," Bucky whispered, voice failing him, "I couldn't. He deserves happiness, and peace. It's not for me to contact him."

     "And her sister, you said she was pregnant a while back," she continued, "what about her?" He shook his head again, prompting her to continue, "And...Gen. I think that was her name. Her best friend. Anything?"

     Another shake of his head.

     "Hand me your phone."

     Bucky sighed and tossed the device over, watching the Doctor swiftly catch it and turn it on. Her eyes softened when she saw his lockscreen. Bucky stared down at his lap, knowing what she saw. On his lockscreen, Lily stood on a balcony, a grey suit jacket on and a white lace dress. The sun shined bright on her face as she leaned her head back, blonde hair dancing in the wind. Her smile was slight, as she enjoyed the feeling of the sun. He took it when they were at his apartment in October, on a particularly warm day. She raided his closet and took the jacket.

     She still had it.

     "She's beautiful." Dr. Raynor stated, swiping up to unlock the phone. A tear fell down Bucky's cheek. His home screen was different, but still Lily.

     Lily and Hunter were asleep on the couch, Joey curled at the base of the couch. Bucky had come over for dinner to find them like that. So he draped a blanket over the two and got to work on the food in the kitchen. Not daring to disturb the two. He always loved seeing her asleep. The stress lines he adored along her forehead and cheeks disappeared, her face was calm and supple. Her lips slightly parted slightly and eye lashes laid against her slightly flushed cheeks.

     "Cute kid," Raynor commented, moving on to his messages, "You've ignored everyones texts James. Only Sam and Steve seem to be getting an answer from you. If you can even call it that."

     "They mostly come over unannounced to my apartment," Bucky said gravely, shifting once again, "typically to force me into this exact same conversation we're having."

     Tossing his phone back, the doctor sighed, "When did you realize you had fallen in love with her?"

      "I couldn't tell you, Doc," he sighed, running a hand through his hair, "there were so many times where I would just look at her and know. Know that she would have an unspoken power over me."

     "Tell me more about her."

     Bucky knew where to start. He began by talking about her appearance, all walls he had up disappearing after the doctor saw just how much he was still in love with her. He began with her hair. Describing it as something that he could play with for days on end. It was always soft and was bright and reminded him of the sun. Her eyes were a deep amber hazel with flecks of green in certain lights. Her skin was bright and boisterous, always seemingly full of life when he was around. Her nose was something that he could only describe as sculpted. A strong ridge with a dip near the top. Her lips were that of a love song. Soft and welcoming, seemingly molded to his own. A beautiful cupid's bow that had him longing to kiss her from the moment he saw her for the first time.

     Her body was something Bucky could barely voice. A simple figure, dips and curves. Gentle stretch marks along the thicker parts, her hips, her thighs. Her stomach and waist was his favourite thing next to her hands. Her stomach had small marks along the bottom where she grew to carry Hunter. He would typically wake her up on weekends by kissing those marks, reminding her of the beauty. Her hands were gentle and calloused from years of hard work. But always so gentle, skilled fingers that would trace simple patterns along his skin and run through his hair.

     He left out the explicits.

     Her personality though. Bucky didn't know where to start. He was rendered speechless when he got to it. But he started with the dirtier parts. The harsher parts of her that he didn't always enjoy, but loved more than anything else. She was snappy, and had an affliction with everything being perfect. She was controlling, and never let him lead her through different things. Sometimes she wouldn't listen, and focus on that dark voice that plagued her head instead of listening to him. But she was kind. Kinder to him than anyone. She would sit him down some nights and point out all that she loved about him. She was warmhearted, and never let herself see the bad in people. Her mind was something that fascinated him beyond words. She was a quick thinker, always ready with a comeback or some fact he probably didn't need, but loved to hear anyways.

     When he became coherent to his words again, he felt the warm tears flooding his cheeks rapidly. Something that only ever happened in the confines of his own apartment, away from everyone else. But this time, he spoke. Three simple words that shattered his heart.

     "She was mine."

-----

     Standing in his kitchen, Bucky used his flesh hand to mix the blueberries into the batter in the black mixing bowl on the counter. He wasn't sure what possessed him to make these today of all days, but he did.

     The lock on his door turning made the brunette sigh. Steve or Sam, or both even, were here. Which meant that he wouldn't be able to get the peace and quiet he wanted for the day. Ignoring the struggle, Bucky poured the batter into circles on the skillet, smiling at the sizzle they made. Something Lily said was what he wanted. He watched intently, waiting for the bubbles to begin popping. When the door swung open, he chuckled. They figured it out.

     "I told you to turn it that way first," Sam muttered to Steve as the two walked in, "but nooo Mr. America had to do it his way."

     "Former, Mr. America." Steve corrected, shutting the door.

     "And now Mr. Pain-in-my-ass." Bucky sighed, flipping the pancakes before turning to face the two men standing near his kitchen.

      "Hey Buck," Steve smiled softly, walking forward, "How're you feeling?"

      "Well it's 2 o'clock and cyborg is making pancakes. So either he's so old he's losing his mind, or he's not doing great." Sam grinned walking over to the counter and leaning on it.

      "I've had a long month." Bucky smiled tightly, flipping the pancakes onto a plate beside him.

      "You could call her." Steve offered, stealing a blueberry from a container.

      "She doesn't want to talk to me." Bucky muttered, covering his pancakes in butter and icing sugar. Just as she used to in the mornings for him.

     "You sure about that?" Sam whispered, eyes staring down Bucky.

     Bucky shook his head and grabbed his utensils and orange juice before walking past the two into the living room. He sat down, turning on the TV and trying his hardest to ignore the heavy stares of his best friends from the other end of the room. He knew they were here for a reason. It could be the fact it was her birthday and Bucky had plans to make it special for her a month ago. Or it could be to pester him. Or even if something happened they won't tell him. The last was his best guess.

     "I'm guessing by your annoying stares," Bucky sighed, turning his attention to the men, "You're not here for pancakes."

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x female oc #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #original female character #female oc #OC #oc x canon #oc tag #marvel #marvel fanfiction #the winter soldier #tfatws #The Avengers #fanfiction #single mom #sebastian stan #romance #fluffy #comedy #james bucky barnes

[itllsetyoufree]

i always had the best intentions, babe

Sam smiles at her. “Alright, Luthor. Let’s hear it.”

Lena winces, gaze dropping to the ground.

“I almost killed Kara tonight.”

OR,

When Lex's automatic kryptonite countermeasures nearly kill Supergirl, Lena's forced to accept the fact that despite how angry she is, she still has feelings for Kara. So obviously she runs away to Metropolis where Sam makes her talk about her feelings and gives her a damn hug in the process

--

Or, after 5x08 when Lex's automatic kryptonite countermeasures nearly kill Supergirl, Lena's forced to accept the fact that despite how angry she is, she still has feelings for Kara. So obviously she runs away to Metropolis where Sam makes her talk about her feelings and gives her a damn hug in the process

It’s late. She knows it’s late, but she didn't know what else to do. She had stumbled out of Lex’s hideout in a daze, chartering a flight to Metropolis and texting Sam before she’d even processed that she’d taken out her phone. By the time the plane lands, Lena’s pulled herself together, and by the time her car pulls up in front of Sam’s house, she’s already sent her pilot a case of champagne as a thank you.

The downstairs lights are on despite the hour, yellow light spilling onto the front lawn, and Sam opens the front door before Lena’s even out of the car. She leans against the doorjamb, arms crossed with a curious but tired expression on her face as she watches Lena walk up the pathway toward the house.

Lena wonders not for the first time in the last few hours if she’s overstepped, made a mistake in reaching out for Sam and showing up almost unannounced at who knows what hour of night. Anxiety pools in her stomach as she climbs up the steps, but Sam just smiles tiredly at her and pulls her into a hug so warm and familiar her eyes water.

She allows herself to sag against Sam, tucks her head into Sam’s shoulder, boneless as she exhales properly for the first time in hours. Sam is solid against her, strong arms all but holding her up, and Lena treats herself to it just this once.

“I’m sorry to keep you up and barge in on you like this.”

Sam gives her an extra squeeze and pulls back, holding onto Lena’s shoulders as she dips her head to catch Lena’s gaze. “I’ve been telling you for years that you need a hug and some therapy. I’m not going to scold you for taking my advice.”

Lena snorts, “You’re not a therapist.”

“No,” Sam says, stepping fully back into the house. She gracefully picks up an already poured glass of wine and hands it to Lena, and the rest of Lena’s anxiety melts away when she sees a fresh pair of folded pajamas and a pillow perched on the couch. “I’m not, but I researched a list of them for you while you were on your flight. It’s in your inbox.”

Lena glares at her for a moment but relents when Sam raises an eyebrow at her.

“Thanks,” Lena says quietly. She sips her wine.

Sam smiles at her. “Alright, Luthor. Let’s hear it.”

Lena winces, gaze dropping to the ground.

“I almost killed Kara tonight.”

Sam freezes, wine glass dangling precariously in her hand. She lowers herself slowly onto the couch. “I think I’m going to need a little more than that, Lena.”

“I didn’t- it wasn’t- it’s not-” Lena stops, frustrated, and presses her thumb into her eyebrow. She shakes her head and starts over. “It’s not how it sounds, not really. Can I sit?”

Sam nods, and as Lena sits she marvels at the open expression on Sam’s face, faith in her she’s not sure she deserves, faith she always thought Kara had in her.

“She- Supergirl chased after me at one of Lex’s hideouts and his defense systems almost shot her down with kryptonite cannons. I barely shut them down in time.”

“Lex’s cannons?” Sam asks.

Lena nods, then regales Sam with the events of the evening that she already wants to forget, and by the end of her story, she can’t place Sam’s expression at all.

“His countermeasures armed with regular missiles first, which I let fly, but when those didn’t faze her, they automatically re-armed with kryptonite and wouldn’t allow an override, and she just stayed there watching me with her hands up. She wasn’t even trying to get away, she just-” Lena cuts herself off, her throat feeling thicker than usual and her eyes filled with tears. She notices her wine glass is trembling in her hand.

“She just looked at me. Another second longer, Sam, and I-” she shakes her head and takes a large sip of wine to steady herself. She’s not sure it’s working.

“Lena,” Sam’s voice is soft, but her face is determined as she calls Lena back from her thoughts. “You didn’t nearly kill her. To me it sounds like you saved her.”

Lena snorts. “If it weren’t for me, she wouldn’t have almost died in the first place.”

“Don’t you think she could have left when you, I don’t know, fired an actual missile at her?” Sam looks at her incredulously. “Wasn’t that a big enough hint? And don’t you think she could have flown away when she saw the kryptonite instead of just standing there waiting to be shot at?”

“She probably had a whole superhero speech prepared that she didn’t want to waste,” Lena rolls her eyes.

She lets out a long breath, staring down into the dregs of her wine. Then she shrugs, the snark draining out of her. “I can’t get that image out of my head, of her with her hands up just looking at me and waiting for me to gun her down with the only thing that could actually hurt her.”

Lena breaks her stare with the bottom of her wine glass and looks up at Sam, eyes pleading.

“You’re not a bad person, Lena,” Sam says softly, grasping Lena’s hand. “You didn’t program Lex’s defense system or set it to automatically shoot down Kryptonians. You stopped it from firing.”

“Yeah, the second round,” Lena scoffs, rolling her eyes at herself. “I actively deployed the first round. What am I doing, Sam, firing military-grade missiles at my best friend?”

Sam turns, facing Lena fully on the couch and leveling her with a glare. “When you know military-grade missiles wouldn’t even bruise her?”

Lena drops her gaze. She picks at a feather sticking out of the couch until Sam bats her hand away.

“And when she ripped your whole world to shreds and didn’t even have the decency to tell you about it?”

Sam is looking at her with a raised eyebrow, and Lena allows the corner of her mouth to quirk up in acknowledgment. “All that world-ripping, and the only thing I’ll let myself do back is yell at her.”

“And fire a couple missiles at her,” Sam says cheekily, a small smile spreading over her face.

Lena lets it cheer her up for a moment and smiles back, waving her hand dismissively, “Oh what does she care? Couple of gnats buzzing around.”

Sam snorts. Lena sobers, “But the kryptonite cannons… my heart stopped.” Lena trails off into a whisper.

Sam nods, “It would have killed her.”

“It would have killed her,” Lena agrees. “And she would have let me.”

They’re quiet for a moment, sitting together on the couch. Lena pours herself another glass of wine and downs half of it.

“A big part of me wanted to hurt her, Sam, maybe still does. But not like that, I could never-”

“I know,” Sam cuts her off.

She’s looking at Lena strangely, searching her face, and Lena steels herself.

“That’s not the only thing I wanted to say,” Lena whispers. “That’s just the background, really.”

“Shooting missiles at your best friend is just the exposition?” Sam teases, trying for levity, but she sobers at the look on Lena’s face.

“I, um,” Lena takes a deep breath then, glancing at Sam before looking around the living room to distract herself. She sees pictures of Ruby and Sam together, books, an unfinished art project, a photo of herself and Sam from Alex’s birthday party. “I think you probably know all of this already, but just let me say it, okay? I need to say it out loud.”

Sam nods.

“I love her.”

Sam’s expression softens, and Lena’s heart thumps wildly in her chest. The tips of her ears burn hot when she exhales shakily. “And yes, she did rip my world to shreds, but she also broke my heart. I think I broke hers too, but it didn’t feel as good as I thought it would.”

Lena sighs, digging the palm of her hand into her eyebrow. “I thought I was past it because of all this. I’m so disgusted,” she pauses to gulp down the rest of her wine and sets the glass down a little too roughly, “and hurt and betrayed. Again. I was so sure that I hated her, but I don’t.”

She looks up at Sam wearily and then closes her eyes, resting her forehead in her hand. “She could have died tonight, and I’m in love with her.”

When Lena doesn’t continue Sam nods to herself absently, “I may or may not have figured a lot of that out already.” She says it with caution, watching as Lena uncurls herself and leans her head back against the couch to stare up at the ceiling.

“I know,” Lena murmurs. She lets her head roll to the side to look at Sam. “I don’t know what to do.”

Sam blows out a breath. “There’s nothing to do but give it time,” she says quietly, “and when you’re ready, if you want, let her explain herself.”

Nodding once, Lena slumps into the couch and curls into herself again, but Sam stands and holds her hands out. “None of that. C’mere.”

Lena lets Sam pull her up and falls into her arms. Sam grips her tightly, and Lena indulges in the way it melts away the nervous tension in her stomach. “You are not a villain, Lena, not even close. All you do is good” Sam says to her, rubbing a hand over her upper back. “Don’t let anyone make you forget that.”

“I needed that,” Lena whispers as Sam lets her go. “And thanks for… everything.”

“Anytime,” Sam gestures at the pajamas on the couch. “Get some rest, I’ll see you in the morning. And Lena… we’ll figure this all out.”

She waves goodnight as she heads up the stairs. Lena watches her go, a warm, content feeling settling into her bones as she snuggles into the couch and reaches for her phone. When she unlocks it she finds an email from Sam, a list of half a dozen therapists with a copious amount of notes and commentary from Sam staring back at her from her phone screen. Rolling her eyes affectionately, Lena pins the email for the morning and goes to bed.

#supercorp fic #supercorp fanfic #supercorp #kara danvers/lena luthor #kara x lena #lena luthor needs a hug #fic tag #mine

[sleepynegress]

Spoiler-Filled Reaction to the 1st Ep of TFATWS: ‘New World Order’ ...

Okay, so I may switch up and do weekly recaps via audio. Either way, I’m getting something out before the weekend is up... Still!...  It’s a been a few days, so I can go a bit more in depth with my thoughts on that pilot ep.

~ So, that opening was quiet and down-to-earth. For me, it was hammering home not only the humbleness of Sam (despite the bravado, the man is naive in his optimism and *not* superpowered), but being stuck in his initial thoughts about the shield.   ...That it didn’t feel like it belonged to him. Sam’s personality, has been established as super-loyal and almost childlike in his feelings that things will work out and doing the right thing because it’s right (which is why he didn’t get paid enough BTW naive pride). 

-which comes into play w/ his conflict w/ his sister later... I’ll come back to that.

~ We jump into a dangerous mission that shows off Falcon’s personality. He’s gonna get it done with style and optimism even when working with equipment that needs a few updates.  The stunt coordination here was fantastic!  I legit whewed! aloud at Balroc paragliding into *multiple* helicopters... Sam’s hair-pin turns milimeters from canyon rock, propellers, and rockets... ~ I *loved* Torres’ fanboying. It felt like a parallel to Sam fanboying Cap, in CA:WS and evoked the well-established superhero trope of a person *marveling* aloud at what you’re doing making it so. much. cooler. (as an oldhead, the random black dude emoting about Superman’s suit after he comes out of a phonebooth, in the Reeves movie, is my earliest memory of this trope). ~ Then we see the Tunisia titlecard, which yea! it didn’t just say Africa, but ehh, once again “yellow tint” is code for “exotic” country full of brown people. It did cut through the typically more alt-right-tinged military propaganda w/ the Tunisian man thanking Sam for saving his wife, the bare minimum of humanization... but it saved the scene from just “backdropping” the people/culture w/o any humanity, at all, as is typical... That and the way these two BIPOC spoke to one another (there is a certain kind of rapport we non-white folk have w/ each other) was my first hint...that this showrunner ain’t a white dude. The joking about him knowing Arabic...like cheering/teasing when we show our range to one another.  Mainly, this interaction was to show that Sam is to Torres what Steve was to Sam in some ways...with a bit more “brazen kid” on Torres’ part, along w/ introing the idea of the Flagsmashers. ~ Then, naive Sam decides to donate the shield to the Smithsonian...because he doesn’t feel like he’s earned it and because in his mind it still belongs to Cap and because he’s out here trusting this governement even after all the B.S. he’s done lived through.  Even Rhodey was having his doubts... Maybe being around during the blip makes a person more savvy and cynical, IDK. ~ So, then we see Buck in therapy and since I’ve been through trauma, I know that mindset.  Sticking to routine is a big “win”.  Not really caring about anything beyond the bare essentials (yall saw that man’s apartment). And the feeling of being displaced would be amplified by the fact that this man is more so than anyone who has existed(!).  ~ I noticed that Seb leaned into his Rom-Merican accent, which was a great acting choice, it evokes his sense of having traveled without a solid sense of self in a place, because he was essentially, asleep all those decades, while the brainwashed aspect of himself was enslaved to Hydra. I LOVE his therapist.   Fannishness for a cute guy, means a lot of people don’t like her being “mean” to him... But I’mma tell you, as someone who actually has been in therapy for a good bit, you *need* someone who will call you on your bullshit so you can properly work on it.  I love that she’s also a vet and there’s nothing cutesy and coddling in a male-gazey sexy or motherly way. She’s doing her fucking job and not letting his ass slide. To me, that read as a hat-tip to a woman drecting this. So, we see Buck manifest his trauma w/ profound discomfort in his own skin.  He doesn’t know how to interact anymore, how to swagger in this strange time and place (because dude had all kinds of 1940′s swagger and juice back in CA:TFA) So, he’s just awkwardly honest, and beating himself up for that. But... he’s still alive, so he totally perked up in the presence of this attractive server and Yori notices and like so many old people, just busted his chops and skipped all the what he wasn’t gonna do and did it for him, w/ Leah’s confidant acceptance -ahhh, I luv her!- as an assist. ~ Then we flip back to Sam in Delacroix and we meet his sister and his nephews and his community(!) which really nails down Sam the man, the person, the human apart from his underwritten assists to the Avengers. We see that Sarah knows and loves this naively optimistic ‘I will find a way to fix it because it’s the right thing to do’ hard-headed brother.... but good-God! he doesn’t know shit about real-world day-to-day struggle... If you’ve seen Anthony Mackie in The Hurt Locker... one of the big themes explored, is how tough it is for vets who have been through explosions and firefights in another country... to adjust to day-to-day struggle in “normal life”. THAT is what Buck’s therapist was calling out when she said BULLSHIT to him saying he wanted peace (lol, no he doesn’t, like Sam he wants that righeous kind of adrenalin only being in action for “good” gives) and what Sarah is frustrated w/ is regarding him not understanding or respecting the kind of struggle she had to deal w/. ~ As an aside I *loved* her *nose-scratch* “Can I talk to you for a minute??” Whew! That is a black-ass way to let you know someone is pissed w/ you and wants to hash all the shit out. That’s why Sam avoided it, lol... ~ So, the date with Leah, who does all the right things...Goes terribly, because Buck is still too deep in his trauma focus on anything about how great she is.   Note, that just about everything that happened on that date reminded him of aspects of his trauma to the point where Buck, (being an absolute dick!) just fucking, walks out on her!!  I NEED her to chew his ass out for that and I need him to *not* be able to make it up to her (and I’d also love some fanfic, where Buck actually does *ahem* treat her well... I know Asian women be shorted in fanfic too!) ~ So, he goes to Yori’s apartment and stares like an obvious knucklehead (still dealing w/ being stuck in his trauma) at the alter to the man who was just in the way of that brainwashed aspect of himself, pays for the lunch and walks off...AND, NOTE!!  YORI DID NOTICE ALL THIS. So, this will eventually come to a head...yikes! ~ Then we’re back to Sam, and Sarah who tries to have that talk, but old boy ain’t trying to hear it. Insisting that he’s the man to swoop in and save the boat and the business *sigh* by some magic (hanging with magical beings...will do that, I guess). And Sarah smartly is just frustrated and skeptical, but lets him go on and try and fail in the same ways she already did so. many. times... in those five years. ~ And then we see bb Torres being brazen kid stupid amateur spy w/ the Flagsmashers. I honestly thought old masked dude stomped him to death, at first... The camera pan showed the cliched dead-man pose, after all.  I guess he pulled that (super!)stomp, which means... Flagsmashers aren’t the lethal villians here IMO.   I think they escaped from the *real* villian. ~ And then comes some real world racist bullshit... This scene at the bank *nails* a particular kind of frustratingly infuriating racism that is common. Where they will act like they are doing you a favor because they like and want something from you... but still won’t serve you in the same way they would a white person. It’s this strange willfullly “I like you negroes, you entertain me! -but fuck you -but I still like you!” patronizing thing that we know all too well. *whew!* That was real. And then that heartbreaking scene where after Sarah rightly told-ya-so’s.  -Sam is working on that mess of an engine and reality *finally* sets in when the key  didn’t even attempt to turnover.

~ Then Torres messages Sam (and he’s alive!) and we all know Sam knows these Flasgsmashers got super-serum, but isn’t saying. Even TORRES knows (bless his heart). ~ And from there we go straight to the U.S. government rubbing salty dirt in Sam’s wound with the new/fake Cap holding the shield aloft and winking like “It’s mine now, bitch!”. ---And the credits, I won’t get into except to say if you want ALL the spoilers in the credits, watch that linked video, I posted earlier. But they are SIGNIFICANT spoilers.

#okay just about #finished #tfatws #meta #recap

[5289belle]

Captain America’s Legacy

Summary:  When Katerina Rogers watches as the flags smashers cause further mayhem, she knows she needs to come out of hiding and go help Sam and Bucky take them down, all while dealing with the fact that the United States government replaced her dad with some idiot as Captain America.

Meet Katerina (Katy) Rogers, the daughter of Natasha and Steve. Will take place during the falcon and the winter solider with some flashbacks to black widow and civil war. Also Tony is alive in this timeline, Steve did that snap instead, Natasha still died getting the soul stone.

Part Two

Walking along the road the three had been silent for twenty minutes now. Then Sam spoke up, “Wait, how did you know where to find me Kat?” He looked at her with questioning in his eyes.

“Oh that, ha easy. I tracked you through your phone, GPS can be really helpful.” She said with a laugh.

“Since when do you know how to hack?”

Looking at him with a smirk she responded lightly “Tony showed me how, about nine years ago. I just never felt the need to use it much on missions. What with Tony and all his techno stuff, and then when we went on the run it just never came up.

Bucky had been just staring ahead stoically the whole time, Sam just shook his head as they continued on. Looking over to Bucky Sam asked

“What going on in that cyborg brain of yours?”

“It’s computing”

Sam chuckled at that, while Katy broke out in a smile and tried not to snort. “You know what I can actually see it. I can see the gears turning. Oh, they’re malfunctioning shutting down. Yep, they’re on fire.”

Ignoring him Bucky interrupted with “We gotta figure out where the serum’s coming from.”

“Yeah. And how in the hell after 80 years are there eight super soldiers runnin’ loose?”

“Well, lets first ask where do we start? Who made the serum?” Katy spoke up from between them.

Slowly they heard the car come up beside them, honking. Looking over she noticed it was Walker and Hoskins, great she thought and tried not to roll her eyes too hard.

“So that didn’t go as planned, huh?” Walker asked the trio.

Pointedly ignoring him they continued walking on, a few moments later Walker continued on “Look, at least we know what we’re up against now, huh?

And were pretty sure it’s one of the big three, so..”

Sam replies with “Aliens, androids, or wizards right?

“Pretty sure” Walker say’s looking at them hopefully.

Annoyed Bucky interrupts with “There’s no such thin as wizards.”

“Alright then it’s aliens or androids”

Sam responds with “Or super soldiers.”

Surprised Hoskins asks “Shit, super soldiers, for real?”

“Yeah”

“All right, well then we gotta work together” John says to them, having enough of the conversation Bucky say “That’s not happening”, which is quickly followed up by Katy with “Yeah, no. Were good, we can handle this ourselves.”

John replies “I think we stand a much better chance if we all just..”

Interrupting him Bucky yells quietly “Just cause you carry that shield, it doesn’t mean your Captain America.”

“Exactly, just saying you’re Captain America just doesn’t make it so. It’s title that has to be earned, and its sacred.” Katy responds with a scowl on her face. She can barely contain her rage at his presence. This was not good for her mental health.

“Look, I’ve done the work, okay?”

Looking at John, Bucky asks “You ever jump on top of a grenade?”

“Or put your life on the line for the greater good?” she adds on.

“Yeah. Actually, I have. Four times. It’s a thing I do with my helmet, it’s a reinforced helmet and I’ve put my life on the line many times in the heat of battle.” John responds, trying to defend his honor. “Look, it’s twenty miles to the airport you three need a ride?”

Katy just scoffs at this and looks ahead with her jaw clenched

“Guy’s. Gary stop. Get in.”

Reluctantly they stop and get, leaving her to be sandwiched between Sam and Bucky.

“Okay, so we’ve got eight super soldiers on a bulk supply run. Why?”

Thinking it over Sam respond’s “They say their mission is to get things back to the way it was during the blip. Maybe they’re just trying to help.”

“They had a funny way of showing it.” Bucky says.

“That serum doesn’t exactly have a great track record.” John says then looks over to Bucky and Katy and says “No offense”

She merely raises her eyebrow and declines to responds.

“We need to figure out where their going. How’d you track ‘em

Here? The flag smashers?” Sam asks.

Hoskins joins in “uh, no we didn’t track them, we tracked you, uh, through redwing.”

“You hacked my tech?” Sam say’s angered

Chuckling Walker replies “Sorry, it’s not exactly hacking. It’s government property.

Meanwhile Bucky was just staring directly towards Walker, noticing he voices out “Does he always just stare like that?”

Sam glances at Bucky and responds, “You get used to it.”

Clearing his throat John say’s to them “okay look, you know things have gotten kind of, uh…” Hoskins finishes his sentence with “Chaotic”

“Yeah. The GRC, they’re doing the best they can to get things up and running smoothly, post blip.

Ignoring them for a few seconds she just tunes them out. Living in Europe for the past six months and moving around from place to place she’s seen the displacement camps and knows that the GRC has been useless for they people who never disappeared. As always the government was ignoring the larger picture in order to fix a smaller picture with a quick fix. Leading to more problems, like the flag smashers… If her dad was here he would know what to do…

Sighing she stopped her train of thought, with her heart constricting in sadness at the mere thought. It still hurt too much to think about them. She would drive herself insane if she kept thinking what if?

Coming back to the conversation at hand she heard Walker say “If you guys, if you joined up with us we could..”

“No” Bucky and Katy said in unison.

“I got mad respect for the three of you, the falcon, the winter soldier and Captain Widow. But you were getting your asses kicked till we showed up” Hoskins said to the three.

“What?” she asked in confusion, looking over at Hoskins she continued “What did you call me?

“Captain Widow, that’s your superhero name right? Cause your dad was Captain America and your mom was Black Widow”

Shaking her head in confusion and annoyance she asks

“Is that what everyone refers to me as?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Just no, I just…” she sighs and doesn’t know how to respond. Since when did she get that moniker? The Captain Widow? Seriously!.. Well, it was at least better than the other one she had been given…

While she pondering over the recent revelation Buck asks “Who are you?”

“Lemar Hoskins”

“Look, I see a guy hanging out of a helicopter on tactical gear, I need a lot more than Lemar Hoskins.”

“I’m Battlestar. John’s partner.

“Battlestar!?” Bucky says, clearly his hurt by this. With that he’s had enough and calls for the car to stop and leaves, she happily joins him. Glad to be gone from that situation. Walking side by side, she looks over to him and notices the grimace on his face. Clearly he was not taking the news well.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine” he says dismissively. Sam then walks up to them and joins them on their silent walk back to the airport.

With that Bucky stands up and walk over to Sam and sits down next to him and looks between him and Katy. “There is someone that you two should meet.”

Some time later, Bucky is sitting on a crate thinking pensively while Sam and Katy are laying on the seats.

“Let’s take the shield. Let’s takes the shield and do this ourselves.”

“We can’t just run up on the man, beat him up, and take it.”

“Why not? It would certainly make me happy” Katy says, now she can’t stop picturing it, she doesn’t know why but something about his face just makes her want to punch him.

“Do you remember what happened the last time we stole it?”

“Maybe”

“Possibly” she says.

“I’ll help you two in case you forgot. Sharon was branded enemy of the state, and Steve, Natasha, Wanda, Kat and I were on the run for two years. I don’t know about you, but I don’t wanna live the rest of my life la vida loca. We just got our asses handed to us by super soldiers, and we got nothing.”

Interrupting she say responds “Not entirely true, we know there’s at least eight of them, and that they steal supplies, like medicine and stuff. Plus, they know how to handle themselves in a fight.”

With that they head off to Baltimore Maryland. Where Sam and Katy find out there was a black super soldier since the fifties and no one knew about it, not even Steve. Sam is angry at the revelation, how could no one tell him, why was it a secret. Katy is just shocked, she had no idea that the U.S had also had their own batch of super soldiers they were using, she thought it was just the Soviet Union with the Black Widow program.

While Sam is having it out with Bucky suddenly a siren wails out as a cop patrol car rolls up and stops in front of them. “What could they possibly want?” She asks out loud.

“Hey, is there a problem here?” One of the officers ask.

“No, we’re just talking.”

“We’re fine” Bucky adds on, Katy responds dismissively “We’re good, thank you though. We don’t need your assistance, have a good day”

The officer walks up to Sam and singles him out asking him for his ID, at this Bucky says “Man, seriously?”

“I don’t have ID, why?”

“Okay sir, just calm down.”

Affronted Sam goes on “I am calm, what do you want.”

“Just give him your ID”

“NO, I’m giving him shit We’re just talking”

“Hey is this guy bothering you two?”

“No, he’s not bothering us. Do you know who this is?”

The other officer walks up to his partner and whispers something to him, then the other one apologizes to Sam.

Before long, Bucky is being arrested for missing his court mandated therapy.

A couple hours later the three find themselves at the precinct. In the lobby Sam and Katy are waiting to hear news about Bucky when his therapist walks up to them.

“Sam. I’ve heard a lot about you.” turning to look over at Katy she asks “and who are you?”.

“Hi, I’m Katerina Rogers, but you can call me Katy. May I ask who you are?”

“I’m Dr. Raynor. I’m James’s therapist”.

Walking up to her he shakes her hand and replies “So nice to meet you. Thank you for getting him out.” Katy smiles at her nodding her head along.

“That was not me”

“Christina, it’s great to see you again.” Walkers voice rang out.

“You got to be kidding me you know him?” Sam asked Dr. Raynor.

“Yeah, we did some field ops back in the day.

“I heard you were working with Bucky, so I thought I’d step in. Bucky’s not gonna be following a strict schedule any longer. walking up to her he smiled.

“We haven’t finished our work. Who authorized this?”

Pointing to himself “Um..”

Rolling her eyes on the sideline Katy thought to herself at least he did something good for Bucky, this way they can carry on the mission. He’s still pretentious, but I suppose he not the absolute worst…

Just then they released Bucky and he came walking up to the group.

With that Walker told them he would be outside waiting for them.

“James, condition of your release, session now. You too, Sam and Katy.”

“That’s okay. I’ll be out here with Katy..” Sam replied while Katy also rang out “Oh, no I couldn’t join in..”

“That wasn’t a request”

The two looked to each other in defeat and then followed after Bucky and the Dr.

Sitting down at a table with Dr. Raynor on the other side the three were all seated next to each other with Katy in the middle, each were silent and brooding, clearly not wanting to be there.

“So.. Who would like to start?”

Pursing her lips Katy stubbornly remained silent. Sam chose to speak first “All right, look Dr. Raynor? I get it, why you want me to talk to freaky magoo over here. But I’m 100% fine”

“It is my job to make sure that you’re okay. You to Katy, I heard that you just disappeared six months ago without a trace after your parent’s funeral. I can imagination how hard that must have been. I know your friends here were worried about you. And so yeah, this may be slightly unprofessional but it’s the only way I can see if you’re getting over whatever’s eating at you guys.”

“Look I appreciate the concern I do, however I’m perfectly fine. I just needed a break, all good now..” Katy said trying to excuse herself. The Dr. just looked at her and then to the other two.

“This is ridiculous” Sam said afterwards, Bucky followed up with “Yeah. I agree.”

“See making progress already. So who wants to go first? No volunteers, wow. How surprising. Okay. We’re going to do an exercise. It’s something I use with couples when they are trying to figure out what kind of life they wanna build together. Are you familiar with the miracle question?”

“Absolutely not”

“Of course, not”

“What is that?”

“Okay it goes like this, suppose that while you’re sleeping a miracle occurs. When you wake up, what is something that you would like to see that would make your life better?”

“In my miracle he would talk less.”

“exactly what I was gonna say, Isn’t that ironic?”

“These two would banter less.”

“You guys are leaving me with no choice. It’s time for the soul-gazing exercise.”

“I like this one better” Bucky says with a smile while Sam smiled and responds “Oh, God. He’s gonna love this.” Katy merely says, “I’m good, I’ll just watch.”

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

“This is right up your alley”

“Katy, you have to join in. I really think this would be helpful for you three.” Dr. Raynor responds to the three’s remarks. “Turn around, face each other.”

All three scoot out with their chairs and then scoot right back in forming a triangle with their knees touching.

“You should really enjoy this.” Sam says aloud to Bucky.

Looking right back at him with a sarcastic smile he replies, “I’m going to” While nodding his head. “This will be fun” Katy remarks, trying to lighten the mood and her nerves. Just great.

“Face each other”

“Let’s do it. Let’s stare” Bucky says to them.

“Get close”

“How much closer can we get? Our knees are touching?” Katy says confused. Bucky looks to his doctor and says “This is a good exercise. Thanks Doc.

“All right, good. All right, get close.”

With that they mange to get closer by arranging their knees to open up and allow the other ones to slide in closer on her left side Sam sits with his knees by hers, while on the right Bucky sits with his knee on hers, their other knees our on each other’s. All three our extremely uncomfortable.

“It’s a little close” Bucky says. “That’s what you wanted right?” Sam replies, Katy just sits there shaking her head. Dr. Raynor interrupts with “Guys, good. Now look at each other.

Looking up they look into each other’s eyes, Sam and Bucky are just staring at each other, both refusing to blink. While Katy looks right at their eyebrows refusing to make eye contact, fed up with the whole situation and their childish staring contest.

“Wait, what are you doing? Are you having a staring contest?” Snapping her fingers, she says blink to them repeatedly until they snap out of it. Katy looks up relieved.

“All right James, why does Sam aggravate you?”

Looking up her with a smirk he’s about to respond when she replies, “and don’t say something childish.”

At that he licks his lips and looks down, getting serious. Looking to Sam he asks, “Why did you give up that shield?”

At this Katy looks to Sam with the same questioning look, she desperately needs to know that answer to this. Why did he give it up to the museum when he could have given it to her…?

“Why are you making such a big deal out of something that had nothing to do with you?”

Finally, she speaks up, “Why didn’t you pass it on to me? If you didn’t want it?”

Looking over to her he responds “You went AWOL, we couldn’t find you. How could I have given to you when you weren’t there. I thought you would like that it went to the museum with the rest of the Captain America exhibition.”

Looking down in pain, she purses her lips and then glances back up

“Okay, so maybe it would have been hard to give to me if you couldn’t find me. I just don’t know why you thought I would rather have it collecting dust in a museum…”

Speaking up Bucky looked to Sam “Steve believed in you. He trusted you. He gave you that shield for a reason. That shield, that is… that is everything he stood for. That is his legacy. He gave you that shield, and you threw it away like it was nothing.

“Shut up”

“So maybe he was wrong about you. And if he was wrong about you he was wrong about me.”

“Or me” she muttered.

“You finished?”

“Yeah”

“All right, good. Maybe this is something you or Steve will never understand. But can you except that I did what I thought was right?

Bucky just looks down; Sam absorbs this and scoffs “You know what Doc? I don’t have time for this. We have some real serious shit going on. So how about this? I will squash it right now. We go deal with that, and when we’re done, we both can go on separate, long vacations, and never see each other again.”

“I like that”

“Great”

“You two can’t mean that!?”

Nodding his head Sam responds “Well, let’s get to work. Thanks Doc, for making it weird. I feel much better. I’ll see you outside. Getting up Sam walk out with Katy right on his heels, she looks back to check on Bucky and then continues on outside.

Meeting Walker and Hoskins outside they conclude that it would be better to work apart, all thought now they know the leader’s name is Karli Morgenthau. While walking down the street Bucky speaks up and says he knows a place to start. So now their heading to Germany, off to see Zemo..

Walking along the hallway in the prison Bucky lets them know he’s going in there alone.

“Why?”

“You two are avengers. You know how he feels about that.”

“It’s not like you two were known for frolickin’ in the sun together.”

“He was obsessed with hydra. We have a history together. Trust me. I got it.”

With that Bucky walks off leaving Sam and Katy to wait there.

An hour later they find themselves in a old building while Bucky explains he wants to break Zemo out of jail, how he could escape.

Sam is not having it, and neither is Katy.

“You want to break out the guy who tried to break up the avengers and framed you for a bombing?” she asked him shocked. She knew they were desperate for leads but not that desperate.

“Where are we, Buck? Have you lost you mind?” Sam called out.

“We have no leads no moves, nothing”

“What we have is one of the most dangerous men in the world behind bars. “

“And we also have eight super soldiers that are loose.”

“It’s not the worst plan I suppose. Better than joining up with Walker and Hoskins.” She joins in.

Looking over at her incredulously Sam continues “Zemo’s gonna mess with our minds. Especially yours. No offense.”

Turning on the lights he says “Offense”

“Why are we on a mechanic shop? That where we are right?” she says looking to Bucky for answers.

“Super soldiers go against everything he believes in. He is crazy but he still has a code.”

“I’ve been on the wrong side of that code and so have you and Kat. He blew up the UN, he killed King T’Chaka and framed you for it. Did you forget that? You think the Wakandans for about it? It’s a rhetorical question. They didn’t I know why this matter to you, buts it pushing you off the deep end.”

“Sam, we don’t know how they’re getting’ the serum. We don’t even know how many of them there are. Let me just walk you through a hypothetical. Can I?”

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything” Bucky empathizes.

Tilting her head at that Katy looks over and ask, “So what’s this hypothetical?”

As Bucky is explaining the gears in her head are turning and she starting to figure out that everything he is saying has either already happened or currently is. Half expecting Zemo to come walking in any minute now. She’s not disappointed when he does. Sam however is livid.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa”

“No listen”

“What are you doin’ here?” Sam questions.

“I didn’t want to you, cause I knew you wouldn’t let this happen. “

“What did you do?”

“We need him”

“This has gotta be good” she says.

“You’re going back to prison!” Sam shouts

“If I may” Zemo begins before both Bucky and Sam interrupts yelling “NO”

Zemo mutters “apologies” as Katy watches and tilts her head. How polite she thought to herself.

Looking to both Katy and Sam Bucky say “When Steve refused to sign the Sokovia Accords, you backed him. You broke the law, and you stuck your neck out for me.”

“Of course, you were innocent, and those accords were utter bullshit, just another way for the UN to try and make the avengers their very own weapon to be used when they so desired.” She looks to him, and licks her lips, “I would do it all over again”

“I’m asking for you to do it again” he says while looking into her eyes, mesmerized by his ice blues eyes she mutters “Always, I’ll always help if you need. Until the end.” Turning to Sam he looks at him questioningly, waiting for his answer.

Zemo breaks in with “I really think I’m invaluable..”

“Shut up” Sam breaks in and looks back to Bucky and Katy.

“Okay. If we do this, you don’t make a move without our permission.”

“Fair”

“Okay Zemo, where do we start?”

#bucky x y/n #bucky x oc #KaterinaRogers #bucky and reader

[musicprincess655]

So this was written for the SamFlam Gift Exchange run by @watchsamuraiflamenco for @maid-of-the-golden-deer! I hope you like it.

“What do you think was the hardest part about when she went missing?” his therapist asks. 

Hidenori resists the urge to scowl at her. He doesn’t like talking about her in general, the time she went missing in specific, and he doesn’t particularly want to talk about it now. But, as Mari has pointed out before, she’s not footing the bill for the best trauma therapist in the city for him to sit there and glare at her, so he sighs and tries to give her a real answer. 

“I didn’t...know,” he starts, halting, because he’s never been asked to put it into words before, never been asked to do anything but grieve and then get over it, and he didn’t even manage to do that right. “I didn’t know what happened. I didn’t know if she was dead, or maybe she needed my help because she was stuck somewhere, or maybe kidnapped. Or maybe she wasn’t in trouble at all. Maybe that time she said she’d drop out of school and run away and join a wandering theater troupe, maybe she wasn’t kidding like I thought she was. Maybe she was happy. But I didn’t know.”

The thing is, intellectually, Hidenori knows what he’s doing, knows he’s the one sending messages between him and her. It’s a trick of knowing without knowing, thinking around himself, and it sounds hard, but he’s just so used to it, like his brain’s run itself into ruts he can’t quite get out of. He’s getting...better at acknowledging it, but better isn’t good, not yet. 

Maybe he should feel guilty for using the memory of a girl he loved to soothe everything he feels, but he’s not there yet, either.

“So, lack of closure, then,” his therapist says. Her name is Tsukino, and instead of the kind-eyed older woman he expected her to be, she’s only ten years older than him, and remarkably good at not putting up with his nonsense. It had grated on him when this started, but he recognizes it makes her a pretty perfect fit for him. “The text messages give you some kind of closure? Allow you to know?”

It’s a difficult line of questioning. Sometimes, Hidenori is okay with exploring the fact that he’s the one sending messages from her phone. Sometimes he retreats behind his ability to not know that, and any questions on that topic are useless. 

He’s willing to at least give it a shot today. 

“I guess,” he says. 

“And what if you were to get real closure?” she asks. “Even if it was bad, do you think that would still be better than not knowing?”

And just like that, Hidenori is done giving this a shot for today. 

“We’re...taking a break.”

It’s been a year since she started her trip, and Hidenori has had varying success with distancing himself from her. He’d sent her a message last week - him to her, not the other way around - asking to take a break for a while, since they hadn’t seen each other in so long. 

“Is that because of someone else in your life?” Tsukino asks. 

Yes, Hidenori thinks, and waits to feel guilty, and doesn’t. 

“Maybe,” he says instead. 

Tsukino lets the non-answer slide, and shifts her position. 

“How’s Masayoshi doing?” she asks. 

This is easy. Hidenori could talk about Masayoshi for their entire sessions if he wanted. 

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe the trouble that idiot found himself in this time,” he says, rolling his eyes fondly. “Listen to the wild idea he came up with…”

***

Despite what the media would have everyone believe, Masayoshi has interests other than superheroes. Sure, they’ll always be his favorites, but he managed to hold a pretty demanding job for years before all the Samurai Flamenco stuff started, and he does things other than sit in his house and watch superhero movies. Just because that happens to be his favorite thing to do doesn’t mean he doesn’t do other things. 

Take now, for instance. He’s plastered to Hidenori’s side, pointing out where cherry blossoms are starting to bud. It’s at least a month until they bloom, but Masayoshi is excited anyway. He’s not exactly like a little kid, but the simple joy he takes from something so small could be pretty easily called childish. Hidenori thinks he might find Masayoshi too naive if he didn’t know this is Masayoshi’s way of taking a break from all his World President duties. 

Sometimes, not even superhero shows can cut it when what Masayoshi really needs is a change of pace. 

“We should bring a picnic when they bloom,” Masayoshi says. 

“You know curry isn’t a very good picnic food, right?” Hidenori teases. 

“Goto-san!” Masayoshi complains. “I can cook other things now!”

“Sure you can,” Hidenori says, but it’s unbearably fond even in his own ears. “I’ll just end up making sandwiches myself.”

“You’d do that?”

“Sure.” 

It’s so easy to agree to when he knows Masayoshi’s eyes will light up at the promise. Masayoshi likes to take care of people, likes to be the reason they’re happier, the reason they’re okay, but it’s only more reason that he needs someone to look after him. 

It’s the real reason Hidenori started going to therapy in the first place. Sure, Mari hounded him up and down about it because it had worked so well for her, she and Moe have never been happier, at least give it a chance Goto-san. In the end, though, it took Mari pulling out her trump card. 

“You can’t belong to him if you still belong to her,” she’d said, nodding at an oblivious Masayoshi talking to Moe. 

And God, but Hidenori wanted to belong to Masayoshi. Wanted them to belong to each other. 

So he called the therapist she recommended, and when he balked at the cost, Mari offered to cover all the costs. Hidenori had protested - he’s an adult, and this is a decision he made for himself, he won’t accept charity - but Mari wouldn’t hear of it, insisting it was her gift in gratitude for the kindness he’d shown her. 

And. Well. She did live in his closet for a good long while. 

“Do you think we have to plan early to get a good spot?” Masayoshi asks. “Won’t there be a lot of people?”

“It probably won’t hurt to plan ahead,” Hidenori agrees. 

“Should we invite people?”

“It might get complicated to plan around everyone’s schedules.” And Hidenori kind of wants this to be a date for just him and Masayoshi. 

“Still…” Masayoshi trails off as Hidenori’s phone rings. “Are you expecting a call?”

“No,” Hidenori says, pulling it out. Usually, the only people who call him are work or his mother. Sure enough, his mother’s contact information is on the screen. “I’ll take this quickly.”

His mother probably just has something she wants him to come down and fix, or she wants him to come down more often in general. 

“When are you going to be back?” she asks as soon as they finish exchanging greetings. 

“Mom,” Hidenori sighs. “We’re talked about this. I have a job, I can’t just leave whenever I want-”

“You haven’t been watching the news?” she asks, surprised obvious in his voice. 

“From back home?” Hidenori asks. Why should he? She always tells him the town gossip whether he wants it or not. “No, not really.”

“But it’s about…” she trails off, and takes a deep breath. “They found a body.”

***

So, as it turns out, all that stuff people say about going numb in times of trauma is less true than anything has any right to be. All that stuff about feeling like nothing is real? Yeah, Hidenori wishes. 

He can’t remember anything feeling more real. 

By the time he makes it back home, preparations are already complete for the funeral. He doesn’t actually get to see the body. Not that he’d be able to recognize anything if he had. After all these years, she would have only been a skeleton. They’d have identified her through dental records. 

He did bully a local policeman into taking him out to where a couple of kids playing in the woods found her body. He had a vivid memory of that exact spot. He must have passed right by her and never noticed in the search. 

I could have given you this earlier, he thinks. He looks over at her parents. There are a few tears in her mother’s eyes, but not the unrestrained grief most people would expect of a mother losing a child. Her parents had mourned the loss of their daughter in a way Hidenori never could. I could have given you the closure you needed back then.

But in the end, he’s the only one that needed the closure. 

Hidenori expected to be a mess at the funeral. He was certainly a mess when she first went missing. He remembers crying, remembers cutting himself off from everyone who tried to help him. 

But having everything come together like this, losing any way to pretend it’s not real, and feeling everything he never allowed himself to work through all those years ago, it’s almost like it shorts him out. He stands there, unmoving, unflinching, as the storm rages inside him. He wishes the funeral would go by in a blur, but he feels every excruciating moment, right until he’s the last one left by her grave. 

He doesn’t have a coping mechanism for this. 

As stuck in the moment as he is, he’s instantly aware of the warm weight at his shoulder. Masayoshi leans into his shoulder, not enough to push, but just enough to let Hidenori know he’s there. 

“She’s gone,” Hidenori says. His voice doesn’t sound like him. “All this time, she was just gone.”

And then all the grief he didn’t work through all those years ago crashes too hard, and the tears start coming. 

Masayoshi pulls him into a hug, tucking Hidenori’s face into his shoulder. Hidenori clings to him and sobs, awful, heaving things that wrack his body and pound his ribs, the physical manifestation of a grief that was pushed down for far too long. He holds tight like Masayoshi can keep him from breaking apart, and maybe he can, maybe he’s still the hero he always has been. 

Masayoshi never lets him go. 

“I can’t make it go away,” Masayoshi says. “But I can stay. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You can’t…” Hidenori gulps. The worst of the sobs are done, and now he’s just soaking Masayoshi’s suit. “You can’t fight this off.”

“I know,” Masayoshi says. “But you still don’t have to do it alone.”

Hidenori just holds on, and as his crying finally stops, he feels a quiet inside himself that hasn’t been there in years. 

***

“Hey, so, happy thirtieth birthday,” Hidenori says, laying a bouquet of flowers at her grave. “It’s supposed to be a big deal.”

“Goto-san, help me with the food,” Masayoshi calls. 

“Yes, stop spacing out and help your husband,” his mother chides. Hidenori turns to see Masayoshi struggling with the containers, trying to pass food to everyone at once, and her parents chuckle at his antics. 

Maybe it’s strange to have this picnic with his parents and the parents of his ex-girlfriend, but it’s become routine over the years. Hidenori comes out to lay flowers on her grave on her birthday every year, and allows any grief he has inside him to come out, and when he’s done, the people who loved her remember her. 

And the horrible ocean of grief that lives inside him gets smaller as the years pass, becomes something quiet, something that shaped him but not something that defines him. 

Masayoshi never left. Hidenori never expected him to break that promise. He’s still here, and so is Hidenori, and they can say goodbye to her and step forward together into the future, and that, Hidenori thinks, is a life. That’s what it’s made of. Stepping forward, and doing it together, and spilling rice on the counter or sauce on their hands and laughing and cleaning up and crying and moving on. 

This is a life. It’s the one he built. It’s the one he’ll keep.

#samflam exchange 2020 #masagoto #samurai flamenco #my writing

[thewritewolf]

Eating Habits Chapter 20 (Final): Closure

Hello and welcome to the final chapter of Eating Habits, and the latest installment of my The Lucky One series! In this chapter, Adrien ruminates on his first therapy session, has dinner with Marinette, and they both visit an old friend.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 (Final)

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

Adrien rose from the couch feeling a little unsure, but vaguely better. The past couple hours weren’t quite what he had expected from his first therapy session.

It was less of the probing questions from a serious looking professional and more just… a conversation. They talked about a lot of little things - what Adrien enjoyed making for dinner, his favorite television shows, how his friends were doing, that sort of thing. What they didn’t talk about was any of the things that were really weighing on him. At least, not in any depth. They just barely started touching on his feelings about his father when Adrien’s alarm went off - and this was an appointment he definitely did not want to miss. He was just surprised that two hours had gone by.

It left him with an uncomfortable sense of unease. Was he doing this right? Was he good at therapy, or did he find some way to be bad at it? Some part of him was asking if he should have already tackled some big issue or another, get some sort of a start. His doubts must have shown on his face since his therapist asked him what was the matter. He said what was on his mind. To his relief, she just smiled.

“Adrien, we each heal at our own pace. You can’t be good or bad at it, you just make progress towards that goal.” She tapped at her notes. “If you’re still worried, then let me promise you today was an excellent start, especially for someone who had been so opposed to therapy in the first place. Sometimes, people don’t even mention the things really bothering them for several sessions.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm. And congratulations! You’ve already done the hardest part.”

“What’s that?”

“Asking for help.”

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

On the trip home, Adrien had time to think about his therapist’s parting words. By the time he walked into his shared apartment, he was feeling much lighter. It was as if a load had been lifted from him, one that had been placed there months ago. Maybe he should have taken his friends’ advice sooner?

As he closed the door behind him, he caught the scent of something delicious cooking. When he saw Marinette cooking in the kitchen, he was frozen for a moment, overcome by love and affection. A vision of a domestic life for the two of them in what might be the not-so-distant future flitted through his mind and left his heart full but yearning for more. Eventually she noticed him as she turned around to transport some noodles off the stove.

Her surprise quickly transitioned into a bemused smirk. “You okay there, kitty? You got that silly look on your face again.” She walked up to him and rolled up on her toes to press a quick kiss to his lips, gripping his shirt with both her hands. It only took him a moment to snap out of it and wrap his arms around her waist.

“That ‘silly look’ is called being madly in love, I’ll have you know,” he said as he leaned down to pepper kisses across her face.

“Hey, stop that!” She retreated from his loving assault, giggling all the while. “Tone it down a little, I’m almost done with dinner.”

“Whatever you say, princess,” Adrien said, taking a seat on the opposite side of the kitchen island. After watching her work for a few moments, he asked, “So classes are going to be starting up again soon, right?”

“Yup! And I gotta say, I’m actually pretty pumped about it. I feel like I could take on the world!” Marinette flexed her muscles to a round of applause from Adrien. After taking a bow, she moved the last of the meal off the stove and made the plates for the both of them.

As Adrien walked behind her to the living room couch, his eyes landed on a Sharry Baby orchid sitting on their windowsill. Suddenly, a wave of inspiration hit him. It would take a while to get moving, but it might be a good use of that trust fund money that was just sitting around…

“Kitty? You okay? You’re spacing again.”

“Sorry, m’lady. Just thinking about stuff is all.”

“That’s the second time you’ve zoned out on me since getting through the door. Does this have anything to do with how your first therapy session went?”

Adrien paused, his fork laden with chow mein noodles halfway to his mouth. “I… Kind of? I mean, we talked a lot and I think I’m starting to feel better, but… It’s got me thinking about the future is all.”

“Huh. Well I’m glad things are working out at least. Are you ready for tomorrow?”

“Yeah. We’ve been putting off that visit for too long anyway.”

“My thoughts exactly. We better chat with him before things get too hectic. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

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

With great care, Master Fu poured five cups of tea - three for human hands and two for kwami - before placing a wedge of cheese and a cookie out as well.

He knew they would be here any minute, and he was very much looking forward to meeting with his two best students once again. It had been a difficult decision to allow them to keep their miraculous following the defeat of Hawkmoth, but he had not had cause to regret it thus far. If anything, allowing the kwamis to experience the world after a hundred years of isolation from it was making them even more prepared in case danger would appear again.

But most of all, Master Fu was enjoying his retirement with peace of mind that only the protection of four experienced superheroes could provide. The future was in good hands, whomever he decided would replace him as Guardian.

A decision he would need to make soon, if the rapid whitening of his hair and the ever more pronounced creaking of his joints was anything to go by.

The bell to his shop sounded, drawing him from his reverie. Their laughter reached him first, bringing a wrinkled smile to his face. His observation from years ago came to mind - they really were made for each other, even more so than he had thought. And, magical or not, they had plenty more adventures ahead of them.

“Ah, Marinette, Adrien. Please, take a seat. I hear that we have much to catch up on.”

#Miraculous Ladybug #Adrien Agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Adrienette #Master Fu #ml fanfiction #my writing #Eating Habits #The Lucky One series

[holyfuckthisfishcandrive]

Broken Glass Diamonds

Word count: 2943

Warnings: Minor Character Death, Blood, Google Translate Spanish

Description: Roman dreamt of becoming a hero for his entire life. Given a chance to fulfil his dream he joins one of the many hero organizations in an attempt to prove himself.

AO3

Roman remembered the first time he saw a super in action vividly even after all these years. He was five back then. Five and naive, with thousand dreams and wishes for his future. Astronaut, cowboy, actor, detective and, of course, like probably every kid his age, superhero.

But the first super he saw wasn't a hero. It was a villain.

The Dragon Witch, people would later call her. Whispering the name in fear that even just mentioning her aloud would summon her.

Roman remembered that they had been at a mall on that day. Mamá had bought them ice cream. For him Chocolate, for Remus Banana and as always they had let the other have a little bit of their own because Mamá liked it when they got along and the combination of both Chocolate and Banana was great.

He remembered almost running into a woman with a floral print dress and stuttering out a 'sorry' and then the glass ceiling collapsed. Shards of glass rained down. People screamed. The flowers on the woman's dress were shredded. New, red ones grew on the bright fabric and she fell to the floor.

Roman looked up.

A giant dragon landed in the food court. It had brown scales and yellow fire puffed from its nostrils.

Remus grabbed him and pulled him back behind a corner and they both peeked out from behind it. Remus didn't let go of his hand. Neither did Roman.

Mamá had told them to stick together if anything happened. To protect each other.

"Un dragón", Remus whispered and Roman couldn't tell if he was excited or scared. "Un dragón verdadero."

The dragon began to shrink and shift until all that was left was a woman with scales on her arms and face and wings standing in the middle of the broken glass.

A few people had fallen. A lot more were hiding just like the twins were.

The Dragon Witch said something. She spoke loudly but Roman couldn't understand her. She was speaking English and using too many words he didn't recognize so that even the few familiar ones sounded foreign in the mass of unknown gibberish.

"Donde esta mamá?" Roman asked. Mamá always told them what the words they couldn't understand meant but now Roman couldn't see her anywhere.

"No lo se," Remus shrugged.

A young man grabbed a roasting spit and ran at the woman with a shout. Her wing hit him before he even reached her. He was thrown through the air and crashed into the wall just next to the twins' hiding spot.

Looking back Roman was pretty sure that at that point he had been in shock.

The young man didn't get up from his position slumped against the wall. Something red tickled over the dark skin of his temple and from his lips.

Police sirens cut through the air suddenly, making Roman jump.

But before the policemen could make it into the building the woman had already turned into a big red dragon and as she flew up towards the hole in the roof thousands of coins and jewellery flew towards her like metal to a magnet and stuck to her body until she was fully cooper and gold. In a twisted way, it was beautiful.

Paramedics checked over the people and at some point, a blanket found its way over the twins' shoulders. They sat on the steps in front of the mall, still holding onto each other, neither having spoken a word since the Dragon Witch had disappeared.

"Donde esta mamá?" Remus asked quietly after a while. His voice shaking.

Roman looked around. There were many people on the steps, most of them crying a few looking for others. Then he spotted a familiar head of black hair pulled up in a bun.

"Mamá!" he called and tried to stand up but his legs gave out underneath him and he plopped back down.

She turned at his voice, spotted them and came running towards them.

"Roman! Remus! Estas herido?" she hugged them close, pulled back and frantically looked them over. "Oh, mis hijos."

"Nosotros estamos bien!" Roman told her and burried his face in her shirt.

For a long time, the three of them just sat there, holding on to each other. Roman wasn't sure when he and Remus had started to cry.

It wasn't a day he liked to think off. It haunted him. To this day, despite being an adult now, he felt anxious in malls and under glass roofs.

Over the years people became less afraid of the Dragon Witch. A hero showed up, calling herself Lauda and fought against the Dragon Witch time and time again. By the time Roman was ten, there were no casualties mentioned on the news anymore and his dream to become a hero himself was cemented even further. When he was thirteen his friends began to talk about how the hero and the villain should hook up and he told them that they were being stupid. A hero and a villain couldn't fall in love.

"Have you watched the news lately? They are sooo gay for each other!" Lauren laughed at him.

He hadn't been watching the news. At least not the fights. Seeing the Dragon Witch still stirred up too many bad memories. Mamá had sent him and Remus to a therapist a few times after the incident but hadn't been able to afford it for long. As soon as Remus and him went to school she had to make the choice between proper meals or therapy and she choose the food.

When the twins were fourteen they presented with abilities. Remus made the rat in the kitchen cabinet obey his every will and Roman burned bright and hot without ever burning himself. Mamá was proud of them, helped them figure out their abilities as well as she could without having one herself and whispered in that she had always known that they were extraordinary.

When Roman turned fifteen he started carrying out newspapers and picking up every job he could cramp into his schedule or that Remus hadn't gotten to first. He lost most of his friends during that time. Both of them did even if Remus hadn't had many friends, to begin with.

"We never hang out anymore!"

"Come on! Come to Henry's party with us! It'll be awesome!"

"You don't do anything besides working and studying!"

Roman always wanted to tell them that that wasn't true. He did have hobbies. He was part of the drama club. He wrote stories and poetry and even sew if you could consider patching up ripped clothes a hobby. He never did though and on Christmas Eve he realized that it was just the three of them again. Him, Remus and Mamá.

But he'd be a hero one day and then things would be different. They'd move into a nice house without mould in the kitchen that never got cold in winter because as bright as he could burn the house could burn too and he knew that that would mean their death, and they'd have a big meal for holidays and he and Remus wouldn't have to put their money together to buy Mamá a nice gift. He'd save peoples lives and they would love him for it.

So he curled up under his blanket, tried not to shiver as snow fell outside and held onto that dream.

Remus move out as soon as they graduated. He only let them know that he had gotten a scholarship somewhere but wouldn't tell either of them where and what for. He let Roman help him pack his bag, hugged him, gave Mamá a kiss on the cheek and then he took the next train to somewhere.

Roman applied himself to the nearest T.L.I.H. program.

"You really want to try out for being a hero?" Mamá had asked and looked so damn tired like she hadn't slept in years.

"Yes, and I will make it", he told her.

Mamá had sighed tiredly but smiled.

"It's supposed to be extremely hard", she just said as if he didn't know.

"I will make it."

When two weeks later a letter came telling him that he had been accepted to the program he couldn't believe it.

200 spots, over 35000 applicants and he had gotten in.

Of the 200 people 10 would become heros at most.

And Roman would be damned if he let this chance slip through his fingers.

He didn't have the money for a gym membership but he and Remus had found ways to work out anyway over the years. After the third fight you begin to learn how to fight.

The T.L.I.H. program started in October and for months Roman did everything in his power to prepare himself.

On October 4th, standing in front of the address they had sent him - a tiny hotel that didn't seem like the right place o train future heroes at all but maybe that was the point - he had nothing but a bag of worn clothes, a crumpled twenty, an old burner phone, an old notebook with a pen and his mothers blessing. His knees felt weak and he couldn't tell whether the nausea was because of nerves or because he hadn't eaten since yesterday.

If this didn't work out he'd have no back-up plan. The chances of being accepted to the program twice were lower than being struck by lightning three times, three years in a row on the same day while wearing the same clothes.

Failure wasn't an option.

Mamá was counting on him.

Roman pushed open the hotel door and made a face when it squeaked loud enough to ring in his ears.

The lobby was grey, lit by two neon lights. One was broken. At the counter, a teen sat, a few years younger than Roman and looked up from re-doing his eyeliner, obviously bored out of his mind. The kid looked like a stereotypical emo. Lauren would have been jealous of that eyeshadow.

"I'm here for the T.L.I.H. program", Roman told him confidently.

"Figured that much", the kid - Julian DiCaprio, according to his nametag - mumbled and his voice sounded slightly too feminine. "Name?"

"Roman. Roman Rodriguez."

Julian tipped around on the ancient computer keyboard, nodded to himself and stood up to get a key off the wall behind him.

"Follow me", he ordered and sauntered towards the elevator like he owned the place.

"I think I can find the room on my own," Roman tried but Julian acted like he couldn't hear him and pressed the 4 a couple of times until the button finally lit up.

"What's your shoe size?" he asked instead catching Roman off guard.

"My- My what?"

"Shoe size. What is it?"

The elevator arrived and slip halfway open. Julian slipped through the gap and Roman followed him.

"I don't know? 18, maybe?"

"Shirt size?"

"Wha- Why do you want to know that?" Roman sputtered. He had the sneaking suspicion the kid was going to make fun of him. He knew that his shirt was too big, damn it.

Julian looked him dead in the eye.

"Do you know how many people get in here just because they're rich?  They are pretty good but they never would have reached that level without money. About 90% of the candidates are rich kids according to Mama. Do you know what they will do with you if you show up looking like this? They will tear you apart like chickens."

Roman was quiet for a moment.

"Chickens aren't threatening," he then said. "They only eat seeds and worms."

"Wrong. They eat anything. Once saw a few chicken tear apart a steak in under a minute. They are mini dinosaurs, those feathery beasts."

Roman frowned and looked down at his stained and torn jeans.

"Few years ago a guy showed up looking like that," Julian continued. "He was good. Could control gravity. Heart in the right spot. They drove him to attempt suicide within half a year. Mama doesn't want that to happen again so she makes sure that people like you get something presentable. If you don't know your sizes we'll just have to measure."

A tiny smile spread over Julian's black lips at the last few words.

"Do you like measuring out?" Roman asked.

"With guys," Julian said and the elevator finally came to a stop. "Most of you are ripped as fuck and I'm gay as hell."

Roman hummed in acknowlegement.

"How did you know I wouldn't beat you up for that?" he asked following Julian down the hallway.

Julian looked back for a moment, eyes wandering down and then up again.

"I have awesome gaydar. Besides, I doubt Mama would've let you in if you did that."

"Who is your mother?" Roman asked. She must be an important person to be able to make all those decisions.

"Wouldn't you like to know, weather boy?"

Roman raised an eyebrow as Julius unlocked one of the many doors.

"Really? Quoting Vines?"

Julius shrugged and let Roman into the hotel room.

It was just as shabby as the rest of the hotel but warmer than his room at home and there were no bugs so he could deal with it.

"Here's your key. I'll just go and get the measuring tape," Julius told him and disappeared again.

Roman watched him go. When he entered the elevator again Roman went to unpack his stuff, as little as it was and called Mamá to tell her that he had made it safely. She always got anxious when it came to anyone using the subway and he didn't want her to drive herself crazy.

Julius came back a little later, made Roman write down whatever he measured, took the paper and studied it for a moment before doing that thing again that Roman was pretty sure was Julius' way of checking him out.

"You like floral prints?" he then asked.

Roman shrugged. "I've never worn anything like that."

Julius nodded in acknowledgement.

"I'll get you a few things to try. You can just pick out what you like then. Oh, and before I forget, dinner is at eight on the second floor. There are signs, so you should be able to find it just fine."

Roman glanced at the clock over the door. He still had over an hour. Taking a seat on the bed he pulled out his notebook and began to write. For almost half an hour he wrote and rewrote, completely sunken into the story, before someone knocked again.

He opened the door to Julius and another young man who looked a bit older than Roman. Roman found himself staring at the left half of his face that was a lot darker than the other. Both were carrying two bags each.

Julius pushed past Roman and set the bags down on the bed, his companion doing the same before checking his phone and cursing.

"Fucking hell, I'm gonna be late," he sent a glare over to Julius. "This is the last time I help you with this stuff!"

Then he hurried down the hallway.

"Sorry about my brother. He's trying to start a company or something and really stressed lately," Julius told Roman. "Anyway. You can try on this stuff if you want to, the things you don't want you can just bring down to the counter. If I'm not there just put it under the key wall, okay?"

He didn't wait for an answer and closed the door behind himself forcefully.

For a moment Roman just stood there, stunned, before he slowly moved over to the bed.

He picked out the first shirt and pants he found and pulled them on. A black shirt with red flowers and dark jeans. It fit perfectly. He looked at himself in the bathroom mirror and realized with a start just how different he looked wearing it. He looked like a damn model or something, with his muscles faintly visible and the rolled-up sleeves. The fabric was soft against his skin.

He looked handsome.

Roman looked through the other bags, looked through all these nice clothes and wondered just how much money Julius had spent on this stuff. He couldn't find a price tag anywhere but guessed that it must've been at least 200$.

So, he brought it back down to the counter.

Julius was painting his nails as he came down and raised an eyebrow.

"Something wrong with them?" he asked.

"I can't take this."

Julius' eyebrow crept higher.

"Why not?"

"This stuff is worth a fortune! I could never pay you back for this!"

"You're not supposed to," Julius said calmly and checked if the paint on his pinky was dry. "Look, just take it. It's a gift. No one ever teach you that you're not supposed to give gifts back? Now go back up. Dinner's soon. And don't you dare leave the clothes here."

Roman wanted to argue but Julius sent him a glare and he gave up.

"Fine, I'll take it."

Part of Roman had expected the dining room to be full of others like him but when he came down a few minutes before eight the only other people were a punk couple and an old lady.

A young woman distributed potato soup with sausage at a small counter. Compared to the rest of the hotel it was completely clean here.

Roman ate, watched the punks flirt for a bit ("I'd dismantle the government for you.") and went back up to his room, where he soon fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

#sanders sides #roman sanders #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #dragon witch #my writing #background deceit #background virgil #you can rip spanish roman from my cold dead hands #all the world will bow down series