#then i remembered how much i struggle move around sometimes and maybe i shouldn’t be so hard on myself

[seaweedbrain404]

i don’t know who needs to hear this (me) but if you experience chronic pain or illness or you’re disabled and you can’t work at all or you can’t work certain jobs or you can only work a couple hours or you’re struggling to find a job, it’s okay. especially if you’re also in full time education because this is difficult and i wish we didn’t have to work whilst being in full time education.

but my point is; you are trying your best with what you have. do not push yourself to do what able bodied and healthy people are doing because that is not only an unrealistic, but quite unfair, standard to set for yourself

#kept feeling guilty because my able bodied boyfriend has been pulling 8hr shifts every weekend #and i’ve only been working a 5hr shift on a saturday #then i remembered how much i struggle move around sometimes and maybe i shouldn’t be so hard on myself #disability #disabled #chronic illness #chronic pain #chronically ill #chronic fatigue

[managician]

a life for a life

I had a bout of insanity today at 2am and was like 'hey a zombie apocalypse au where Shindou kills a man would be great'. So I wrote a short story of exactly that. oh and Tenma is also here.

blood tw etc etc sorry for this one but I like how it came out

“Shindou… san…?”

Shindou barely hears the voice of his companion over the ringing in his ears. 

There’s an odd disconnect between his body and his mind. Something akin to the way one instinctively moves through a familiar house when it’s dark at night, aware of the space around them but not really seeing it.

All he can see is the blood in his hands. 

It’s a sobering red. It’s much brighter than the blood a zombie splatters over them when Shindou rips their body open. It’s proof of someone’s life and someone’s death sticking to his skin, and he can’t seem to look away from it for a moment.

The red liquid shakes and quivers along with his hands. He can’t seem to hold them still, but he doesn’t think he’s feeling nervous or shaken. He doesn’t think he’s feeling anything at all. He can’t tell apart any of his feelings amidst the fog in his head.

“Shindou-san,” the voice insists, sounding desperate.

Shindou struggles to tear his eyes away from the spot they’d fixated on. But he can’t keep looking at his own open palms forever, can he? They need to get out of this supermarket, eventually. Their group is waiting.

They need to get out. That’s right… he’s not alone, even though he just... 

(He didn’t even get the man’s name. Whose life did he get rid of?)

When Shindou finally raises his head, the only thing he sees is Tenma, and the relief that floods him is so overwhelming, he’s surprised he finds any strength to stand up.

“Are you… okay?” 

The question comes out on autopilot, almost. And he doesn’t remember walking to Tenma, but his face is closer now, so he must have. 

He can see it all clearly now. His unbrushed curls of hair, which grew even more dishevelled with the encounter; the faint smear of blood trailing down his neck, from the knife the man drew over his skin… His round eyes, glazed over with tears freely streaming down… His cheeks, already burning red from the crying.

Tenma can’t seem to find anything to say. He doesn’t answer. Maybe he doesn’t want to talk to Shindou. He’s always hated violence, hasn’t he? And Shindou just did the worst thing he can think of right in front of him.

There’s a deathly silence filling the aisles of the deserted room. Tenma only stares at Shindou, unblinking, and lets the tears fall, his throat ripping out quiet, tiny sobs, each of them making Shindou’s hands tremble just a bit more.

Tenma is… not afraid. It’s a strange realisation to have. 

But Shindou can’t bear to let the boy out of his sight, and the more he looks into his eyes, the more he notices there’s nothing in his gaze telling Shindou to get away. No rejection. None of the hatred or thinly veiled disgust the rest of his friends show him, sometimes. 

It’s still Tenma. Just Tenma. He’s the Tenma he knows. He’s okay, and Shindou is okay, too, so… there’s no need for him to cry.

He shouldn’t shed tears for someone who tried to kill him. Tenma has always been too kind, too thoughtful of others. The sight of his crying face is making something within Shindou’s chest crumble in pain.

He lifts a shaky hand, softly placing it over Tenma’s cheek. His thumb wipes away the beginning of a tear forming in the corner of his eye, leaving instead a smear of blood all over his sunkissed skin. 

Against any and all sense, the touch seems to immediately calm Tenma down; he exhales out a short breath, and chokes down his next sob, growing aware that all he’s doing is tiring himself out.

Shindou must be hallucinating the soft, relieved smile he sees break out in Tenma’s face, the corner of his lips touching the fresh red Shindou just dirtied him with. 

He must be hallucinating the way those same lips reach to brush the commissure of his, too.

Tenma links his arms behind him, then, pulling him closer, and Shindou feels the warmth of Tenma’s body rest against his own. It’s undeniably real. The soft chocolate hair grazing his jaw and the strength of the arms wrapped around his frame are real.

He returns the hug, pulling Tenma closer to him, like he’s something precious— which he is. Tenma has always been dear to Shindou, and you have to fight to protect what’s dear to you.

He managed to protect something precious. That’s all that matters to him, and maybe it’s all that matters to Tenma, as well. Maybe, he’s fine having Shindou soak him in the blood of that man neither of them will ever know the name of, as long as they can safekeep what is important.

“Shindou-san,” he hears Tenma mumble again, like he’s forgotten all other words. His fingers dig tightly into the back of his shirt. “Shindou-san…”

“Tenma,” he replies, pressing the boy’s head to his chest, running his hand over it. “It’s okay. It’s okay…”

“Shi—”

“I had to keep you safe,” Shindou says, and it’s — 

A justification? An explanation? An apology?

The person speaking isn’t sure. The person listening doesn’t press to find out.

“I… I’m…”

“Are you okay?” Shindou tries asking him again, putting just enough distance between them so that he can take a proper look at Tenma’s expression as he waits for his answer.

Tenma gives a minute nod, but he’s staring down at the dirty floor of the building, like it’s somehow the most interesting thing he’s run into since the apocalypse started. 

Not satisfied with that answer, Shindou gently places a hand on his chin, lifting Tenma’s face.

As if understanding the meaning of the gesture, Tenma nods again.

“I… I’m okay,” Tenma replies, his voice wavering a little. “I’m only okay because Shindou-san was here…”

He sounds so small and vulnerable. It makes Shindou want to shield him from the world, hiding somewhere where nothing and no one will be able to hurt him. He doesn’t think such a place exists, not anymore, but if it’s for Tenma… If it’s for Tenma, he can keep looking for it, just a little bit more.

Tenma has always given him hope. He can’t throw it all away. No matter what.

“...I’m glad.”

Shindou’s not in a state where words can get across how he feels, so all he does is be the one to lean down this time, pressing his lips to Tenma’s in another chaste kiss. The gesture of affection sticks out like a sore thumb against the trashed shelves, and the broken glass, and the musty smell permeating the air they breathe; like it belongs to another time, or to another, happier life. 

But Tenma leans into it, one of his hands weakly clutching the fabric above Shindou’s heart, and for that single fraction of a moment, Shindou is at peace. It’s a calmness he hasn’t felt since his life changed for the worse.

As soon as the sensation is gone, he already longs to feel it again, and again, and again— but before he can pull Tenma into yet one more kiss, the boy hides his head in the crook of Shindou’s neck, burying his face in it.

“Thank you,” he whispers into his skin. “Thank you so much, Shindou-san…”

Shindou lets out a shaky breath he didn’t know he’d been holding in and pulls the boy close again. Those simple words manage to make the corner of his eyes sting and burn. The world around him blurs into a painting of bleak colours and desaturated walls, with a single focal point in the middle of it all.

Tenma’s so soft, and warm, and gentle; even now, despite everything. Shindou feels like he’s holding a ray of light in his arms.

“Tell me when you can get up,” Shindou murmurs into his ear. 

From the way Tenma’s weight is all pressing onto him, he doesn’t think the boy can put any force into his legs, not just yet. His theory gets all but confirmed when Tenma weakly nods into his neck, making no effort to move away from him.

That’s okay. Shindou will wait. He will be patient and remain alert—easier said than done when Tenma’s warmth is so inviting, but he has to do his best. Tenma trusts him with his life, after all.

From the corner of his eye, he sees the body of the man, laying sterile on the floor. 

A life for a life. The life of a violent man he doesn’t know weighed against Tenma’s, his beloved junior and partner.

He looks down at the boy in his arms. For an instant, again, all he can see is the blood in his hands, some of it dropping from his fingertips onto Tenma’s hair and clothes.

…A life for a life? 

No. It’s not even close to an equal trade. 

Shindou closes his eyes.

#theres like. there is absolutely takuten going on here but im not tagging it this is for me and the girlies #and this is actually part of a whole au but let's NOT get into that just yet #my writing

[razorblade180]

Special

Ruby:Hey J-

The young lady sees her friend struggling to pull is sword out of a tree trunk. He freezes in place, slowly falling as the blade slips out.

Ruby:…Are you losing to a tree?

Jaune:No! I just- learning new skills is hard!

Ruby:What skill?

Jaune:I asked Ren how he was able to throw his blades and have them come back. Apparently with the right force and technique, a lot of swords can do it. Thought it might be interesting to learn.

Ruby:From the looks at that gash I think you have force covered. Maybe a little too much.

Jaune:I’m still learning. Doesn’t help that it’s not exactly balanced evenly.

Ruby:Let me see.

He hands her Crocea Mor. Ruby holds it flat with both hands to feel the weight before gripping the hilt with her right. She dashed back with Jaune to move him away from the tree. Raising the blade, Ruby hurled it, making it cut threw the air as it spun. Crocea Mor went past the tree before then started coming back around from the other side. It flew right back into her hand.

Ruby:*smiles* I throw Crescent Rose a lot. It’s in the wrist, also diagonal throw.

Jaune:….Sometimes I forget how gifted you are.

Ruby:!? Oh…umm I’m sorry. Guess this sort of thing isn’t exactly eas-

Jaune:That…was a compliment. Ruby, you’re awesome.

Ruby:Oh. Hehe, it’s no big deal. Thanks.

Jaune:You first tried it. I’d say that’s pretty big. Guess there’s a reason you got into school when you did.

Ruby:Honestly it’s nice you keep forgetting. Being gifted isn’t all that. *looks at sword* It just means you burn out faster from all the expectations.

Jaune:….

Ruby:….!? Whoops! Didn’t mean to dampen the mood.

Jaune:Something you want to talk about?

Ruby:Well…not really. I’m a little tired is all. We’re all punching above our weight these days but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel like I was doing that sense I stopped a dust robbery. Don’t get me wrong, I love being awesome and glad to help. However…being talented feels like it’s a natural resource. Other people use it until it’s all drained. Next thing you know-

Jaune:You end up like Pyrrha?

Ruby:!? I was gonna say exhausted, but yeah, there’s that possibility too. It’s a lot. It may sound weird but being normal sounds so nice. You’re valued, but with in reason. No one is expecting a first try, or early graduate.

She throws the sword around the tree again and catches it before handing it back to Jaune.

Jaune;Would you like to hear my opinion?

Ruby:I’d feel guilty if you didn’t say anything so duh.

Jaune:I believe both you and Pyrrha truly are a gift, but it’s still your gift to give. You just don’t see it that way because of how kind and caring you are to others. If people need you so much then I say set your own pace when you have to. If they value you that much then they’ll listen.

Ruby:Hmm, I never thought of it liked that. In case you haven’t noticed, my pace is pretty quick.

Jaune:Gee I wonder why? I’m proud of Pyrrha for everything she’s done; always will be. Still, I never would’ve blamed her for choosing to slow down for an instant.

Ruby: No one would.

Jaune:That goes the same for you too! If you’re tired then slow down! You’re not alone. It’s not like you’ll be any less amazing. I’m glad you’re so talented honestly. Seeing everything you do is inspiring. Just having you around makes me want try. I’m thankful for that, Ruby.

Ruby:*blushes*….So, wanna try tossing the sword again? It’s pretty hot out here so we shouldn’t doddle. Remember, wrist flick and diagonal.

Jaune throws the sword and surprisingly, it does go around the tree, however…

Jaune:What’s the trick to catching!?

Ruby:…..

She dashed ahead and grabs the blade before any accidents could happen.

Jaune:That…could’ve been terrible for me.

Ruby:My bad! Ya see, if I was normal, i I would’ve thought to explain the entire process beforehand.

Jaune:Why do I find that hard to believe?

Ruby:Wow! Okay then, I won’t teach you.

Jaune:Oh don’t be like that! *hugs her* Gifted or not, you’re still you.

Ruby:Is that your way of calling me chaotic.

Jaune:No. Just saying you’re special to me regardless.

Ruby:….*hugs back* Then I guess…feeling special isn’t all that bad. It also makes you special.

Jaune:Yeah but it’s like a participation trophy when it’s me.

Ruby:Oh my gods…

Jaune:All I’m saying is I just threw sword with no plan to catch it. Like who the hell does that!?

Ruby:Hahaha, don’t worry. We’ll take things from the top.

#rwby #jaune arc #ruby rose #rwby lancaster

[ninja-go-to-therapy]

The Next Step

Happy four years of Damagemas!

Summary: Cole just wants to get better. But it's easier said than done.

Trigger Warnings: mentioned attempted suicide, pet whump, dehumanization, past abuse, trauma, stockholm syndrome

820 words

Against all odds, time kept moving forward. Even when he… when Cole felt like it never would again. Like time would stop, and everything was stagnant forever.

Somehow, it never stayed like that. He was never alone for long. 

The others didn’t trust him not to try and throw himself off the roof again, he guessed. Not that he could blame them. Sometimes he found himself really considering it. 

It was all just so much. It had been a month since he’d begun to remember himself. A month since he’d finally admitted that he wanted to get better. He did. He really did.

But god, it was so hard. How was he supposed to just exist for himself again when the last year had taught him just the opposite? He’d been forced to live for one thing, and it certainly hadn’t been for himself. 

Learning had been hard. But the unlearning would be so much worse. 

Because now he had an audience. He had people who could see what he had become. His family, who looked at him like he was fragile enough to shatter at any second. Not that they were wrong. 

He’d used to be solid rock. Strong and sure of himself. But now he was practically untethered, never farther from the source of himself. 

How was he supposed to get back? How was he supposed to get them to stop looking at him with such deep pity?

“Cole?”

What if he couldn’t be fixed? What if Master had been right, what if he really was meant to be nothing more than a—

“Cole.” Zane’s voice was firm this time, demanding enough attention for Cole to finally snap out of his quickly spiraling thoughts.

“Huh?” He managed, staring back at his brother, disoriented. 

“Your heartbeat is spiking,” he informed, gentler now. “Would you like to try some of those breathing exercises again? Perhaps it would help to calm you down.” He reached out, moving to put a hand on top of his own.

Cole snatched his hand away. “No,” he said, crossing his arms like a barrier, “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

Of all the questions that would make him snap, that shouldn’t have been one. And yet…

“Am I s—? Yes, Zane, I’m sure. Why wouldn’t I be fine? I remember everything now, don’t I?”

“Well, that doesn’t necessarily mean that you won’t be experiencing some negative—”

“Negative? No, no, everything is just perfect.” He said, rising in volume. “I’m home. I’ve been home for nearly three months, and I’m—” his voice cracked. “I’m still…” he couldn’t do this. Who was he kidding? “I’m still not better,” he mumbled, giving up on a fit. Of course he wasn’t going to get better. He’d been reshaped from the inside out. Of course he could never be put back to how he was supposed to be.

“Nothing is working,” he admitted, a new wave of despair propelling him to stand abruptly and begin to pace around the coffee table they’d settled in front of. “It’s been months, Zane, and I’m still — still like this. What’s the point? Nothing is working. Nothing — nothing is working,” he cried, angrily wiping tears away. “Why can’t I just get better?”

Zane slowly rose to meet him, taking his shaking hands. “Cole,” he said softly, “you’re being too hard on yourself. What you went through was… deeply traumatic. But the progress you’ve made since we found you has been exceptional. Recovering your repressed memories was no easy task. You’ve been improving far quicker than anyone could have even predicted.”

It didn’t feel true in the slightest, but he knew Zane was right. “But what if I—” he struggled, pulling away. “What if I’m never the same as I… used to be?”

Zane considered him for a moment. “Maybe you won’t be.” He sat back on the couch, beckoning Cole to follow. “When I first discovered who I truly was,” he began, “and I regained my memories of my father… it was hard. I knew I would never again be the person my memories told me I had once been.”

He put his head in his hands, miserable. “It’s not the same thing.”

“It is not,” he amended. “But what I am trying to say is that… our experiences shape us. But they do not have to define us.”

He slowly looked up, vision blurred with tears. “But what if this does?” He croaked, “What if I — what if I can’t ever move past this?”

“I believe you will. Not only are you stronger than you’re giving yourself credit for, but… you are not facing this alone, brother. We will be with you every step of the way.”

He didn’t know how to say that that was part of the problem. 

At that moment, Kai poked his head in. “Uh, hey guys? The lawyer’s here.” The pit in his chest sank deeper than ever. Shit.

#merry whumpmas #damage #the damage tree #kat writes #ninjago fanfiction #ninjago #pet whump #dehumanization #trauma #stockholm syndrome #ptsd #attempted suicide tw #dead dove: do not eat #whump #whumpblr #cole ninjago #zane ninjago #angst #hurt/comfort

[wortsandall]

snippet

from part one of "the lies we tell ourselves au"-no control

“You know that’s not what I meant,” he says, finally looking into the mirror to make eye contact, not with himself but Steven Grant in all his annoyed glory. It’s his own face looking back at him, but not. Almost like the feeling you get when looking at something that’s supposed to be human, but raises alarm bells in your subconscious. Uncanny valley, that’s the phrase. A feeling that something isn’t right. It’s his dark eyes and frowning face staring back. But the weight he carries is different, lighter, more calm. His shoulders aren’t tense, like they’re ready for a fight but loose and relaxed despite the crossed arms. His eyebrows are slightly furrowed, one of the major signs betraying that Steven is annoyed, even if he doesn’t want Marc to realize it. Steven has less facial hair, more clean and refined.

It’s what you said though, innit?

4 sentences into the day and Marc’s already pissed someone off. This might be a personal record. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Marc sighs as he bypasses the kitchen entirely to start pulling clothes out of the closet.

A ‘sorry’ would be a nice start…

Steven sounds as if he’s behind him, most likely in the reflection of the fish tank. Sometimes he’d wished his brain would leave him with just the voice in his head. At least then he could pretend it’s just a thought, more feasibly ignorable. Instead of a walking, talking, hallucination that he can’t seem to get rid of. Hallucination isn’t the right word. Steven’s real, he knows that. Steven’s been around for a long ass time. That’s what it comes down to when he thinks of him as a hallucination-it'd be easier for Marc if he was. Then he wouldn’t have to worry about potentially hurting his feelings. Or making sure he’s safe. But it’s so easy to think of hurtful things to say about him. Hurting people comes easy to Marc. It’s everything else that’s difficult. 

Sorry is a word that doesn’t come easy to him. It used to come easy as a kid, now it's something that has to be dragged out of him. At the same time, it seems as if he’s apologizing constantly, yet still not any easier to say. Sorry, I’m such a dick, sorry I pushed you away, sorry I lied. How many times can you say a word before it loses all meaning? How many times can it be beaten out of you, before it’s just a word? Before you don’t know what you’re even apologizing for?

Marc?

He grabs the first shirt he sees, throwing it on over his head haphazardly. His mind wanders back to the word-sorry. Steven seems so far away, but Marc’s distracted. Maybe sorry does come easy to Marc. How many times has he said it? How many people has he said it to? It seems to follow him wherever he goes like a ghost. Simultaneously on the tip of his tongue, and stuck so deep in his throat he could choke on it. His eyes are unfocused on the drawers in front of him. There’s a rush of wind in his ears.

Marc? Marc…what’s-

Looking down at his hands, he sees blood. So much blood that it starts to drip from his fingertips. How many people has he killed? Did he utter a sorry then? For any of them? Maybe every single one. Once the deed was done, the word just barely grazed his lips. Silent, but so loud. He remembers saying it over and over. His most important kill, the one that started it all. He could never say it enough back then, it was never enough. Not for him. And definitely not for her.

He closes his eyes but he can’t erase the image of blood pooling on the floor. That’s not right, there shouldn’t be any blood. This was before he learned how to get his hands dirty. No, there shouldn’t be any blood. He’s supposed to be…It’s not right. The picture’s all wrong. He shakes his head, trying to clear the fog but it only grows larger. 

His lips move, but no sound escapes, only a shaky exhale. The pressure grows between his eyes, forcing him to squeeze them tight. He can feel his chest expanding, then tightening as he struggles on his next breath.

Eyes popping open, he sucks in a deep breath. “Oh bloody hell,” Steven sighs to himself. Looking down at his hands, he checks them over for any marks finding nothing. “That’s odd…I could’ve sworn there was…”

#tlwto au #moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #moon knight system #my writing #moon knight fanfic #current wip #writers on tumblr

[bioplast-hero]

Heart in hand

800 words • gen • sheith

Shiro is in love. Now he just has to say so.

[Read the fic on AO3] ... or under the cut, because it's smol ;)

“Hey, Keith. I was wondering if- if you and I, maybe…” Shiro sighs. “I like you. I really like you.”

No.

“I love you, Keith.”

“I’m in love with you. I’ve loved you forever. I can’t remember when it started, I just.” He swallows. “You’re all I think about.”

Shiro shakes his head. He tries to put on a smile.

“Keith! Wow, you look great. You always do.” Shiro does smile, then, feeling warmth in his chest at the thought of Keith’s sharp features, so handsome and soft at once, and the sinful sway of his damn hips.

“Hey, let me buy you dinner.” Shiro pauses. “Please?”

Get it together, Shirogane, he groans inwardly. It’s just Keith. But Keith has never been just anything.

“You know,” he starts again. “Even after everything we’ve been through, there’s one thing I never told you. I- I’m not sure how you’ll react. I’m hopeful, I guess— the way you look at me sometimes, I can’t just be imagining that, can I?”

Your feelings, Shiro. Not his. Focus. Shiro squares his shoulders.

“You’re so important to me, Keith. More than anyone. You’re my most important person.”

Too vague.

“I’m so proud of all that you’ve become.”

Too mentor-ly.

“C’mon, have you seen yourself?” Shiro breathes a laugh. “You’re so hot, Keith, I feel like I’m losing my mind half the time. I mean, your ass—”

Too thirsty, he decides, his cheeks starting to burn even just in the bathroom mirror. It’s all true, though. He wants to be able to say those things, too.

Deep breath.

“How would you feel about a date,” he grins, a little coy, “you and me?”

But it’s not enough.

“Marry me?”

Too much. Arguably.

“I just… I don’t know how to do this,” he admits. “Maybe in general I do, but not with you, Keith. You’re my person. It just… it’s just how it is. I don’t know how to start something that feels like it’s already ours, like it’s right here and any move I make could throw us off course, pitch us both into a ravine.” His laugh is high with tension.

Shiro studies his eyes. God, he’s nervous and it shows. Keith’s not even here yet and he’s a wreck.

But shouldn’t he be nervous? This is important. It feels like the most important thing that Shiro’s ever done.

“I don’t want anything to change, Keith, and… I want everything to change. I want my best friend. I want you in my life always. Is that okay to say?”

Yes, that.

“I want so badly to kiss you and show you everything you mean to me. Make sure you know exactly who you are to me. I- I hope you want that, too.”

Shiro hears his door whoosh open just before Keith calls his name. He hurries to straighten his hair.

“Hey, there you are,” Keith says as he walks up behind him, eyes meeting over his shoulder in the bathroom mirror. Keith’s smile is easy, comfortable. He has grown so much. Shiro treasures that he gets to be here to see it.

Shiro wants to keep him.

He wants to be selfish, to ask for something he wants. It feels sometimes like Keith really would give him anything. And maybe that’s okay?

“Shiro?” Keith’s eyes soften. He doesn’t lose the smile. It’s his, now; he’s not so easily rocked off of his axis, no longer the boy who was ready to shut down before he had any chance of getting hurt. It feels like only yesterday, and a lifetime ago.

Shiro takes courage in the steadiness Keith has found, feeling like he has had some part in that, at least. He’ll take a little credit, knowing Keith’s magnificence is truly his own.

Keith hovers there, meeting Shiro’s eyes and waiting for him to speak his mind.

It’s a weighty thing, handing someone your heart. Or it would be, maybe, if Keith didn’t already hold his.

Struggling for words, Shiro acts instead and opens his arms in invitation. Keith’s face says it all— surprised and charmed, and perhaps a little embarrassed to be so pleased by his welcome. Keith is always welcome. It’s wonderful to see that he knows it.

Chest to chest, Shiro curls around Keith effortlessly, ready to melt right into his space. Keith makes a soft, contented sound, reminding Shiro’s body and his racing heart that he has a question for him. He just… has to start somewhere.

“Hey, Keith?”

“Yeah?”

“Wanna go riding with me?”

“Now?” Keith huffs as Shiro nods against his shoulder. He doesn’t say, It’s 8am. He doesn’t say, Don’t you have meetings, Admiral? He just curls closer. “Always.”

“Good. That’s, um. Good,” Shiro babbles, joy unfurling in his chest. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

❤️❤️❤️ fin 🖤🖤🖤

#sheith #my fic #fic promo #sheith fic #fluff #love confessions #getting together #drabble

[draftmare]

3.01.23

Okay, sooooo saddle drama.

Remember that saddle that I made the post on about saying, hey, look at the flocking of this saddle? This is why we don’t store our saddles on saddle racks? Well, it got way worse than just the flocking being f-ed. The tree was also broken. Well, the head plate was. Thankfully in a super obvious way that I was able to catch just by flipping the saddle over and looking at it. I was already feeling a little sus-y of the saddle because it was being a little too flexible when I pulled it out of the box and did my usual check over. So, here is a friendly reminder that when you get your saddle out of the box, flex the tree. Listen for any weird creaks, squeaks, or if the tree is moving more than you think it should. If you aren’t sure how to flex a tree for soundness, there are tons of resources online on how to check. That said, sometimes the only way to find cracks, loose stitching, or broken screws is to have your saddle fitter take the panels off, but this is generally a good place to start.

Broken head plate:

That saddle went back into the box and back from whence it came. Except the place I got it from opened a PayPal dispute against me. I usually rant and rave against PayPal because they are a bunch of rotten bastards out to steal your money, but this one time they did the right thing and everything settled in my favor, it was just a hassle, and it took way longer than it should have for me to get my money back.

A couple of weeks ago I had her measured/traced for a WOW saddle, and she very clearly was meant for their hoop tree plate. I also got to try one of their saddles, but felt very meh about it. Their saddles are modular in that you can swap out different panels, different headplates, different seats, and different flaps, so it could have been just me needing a different combination of seat and flap, but they are also NOT cheap. I have seen a couple come up at tack shops in my price range, but the tack shops generally don’t seem to know what combination of parts they have on the saddle they are selling, so I would need to go directly through a rep, which would be a lot more expensive. Anyway, after that experience I pivoted to looking for just hoop tree saddles for her, which has been a bit of a struggle. You see, not all saddles that look like hoops are truly a hoop tree, which means a lot of asking people for serial numbers, contacting the manufacturer, and then waiting to hear back on if that model/tree is a hoop or not. 

I ended up going for a saddle...that ended up not being what it said it was...which was a bit of an awkward adventure...and unfortunately it is not going to work for us either.  They had the brand wrong, the tree size wrong, and I don’t honestly know if it is a true hoop tree or not, but the company has gone out of business, so no way of checking for sure. The pictures made it look very hoop like, so I broke my rule above of emailing companies serial numbers, because of course I did (rule was broken because this saddle was waaaay under budget).

It looked really promising to start, but once feeling around under it, there was a lot of pressure under the back of the panel, especially on the left side. I hemmed and hawed on if maybe this was something that could be fixed with flocking since the right side felt better, so I decided to completely tack her up with pad and half pad and that made things MUCH worse. Kind of totally took the wind out of my sails. I ended up not riding in this saddle, or even riding at all on this particular night, I was so bummed. For some reason in the 3 days leading up to this saddle arriving I had convinced myself that just getting a hoop tree saddle would magically fit her and fix all of our problems. 

I am starting to feel like maybe the saddle that seems like it shouldn’t fit her, and doesn’t fit me 100% (the County Fusion) is just what we should stick with. She seems fine in it (she’s been gone over with a fine tooth comb lately with her lameness) and it fits me okay-ish. Maybe I should stop trying to fix what isn’t exactly broken? Ugh. 

#equestrian blogging #horse blogging #horsblr

[trlly]

Abused :/

Hi, I didn't know where else to put this but I've been thinking a lot about something that happened to me a long time ago and I felt the need to get it out in some form so i guess there's no better place to put it than here. Its kind of a long story but i feel its all relevant so bear with me. 

When i was young I didn't grow up with very many friends. Of course, around that age most kids don't have very many friends except those they might have in school or maybe a couple cousins who they spent a lot of time with. For me, it was the latter. My cousin Dante was my best friend and i spent every summer with him doing everything from playing video games, running around in the wood, fishing. Whatever we did; we did together. That was until my dad lost his dad and felt the need to move to Colorado. Suddenly, everyone I've ever known was now almost an entire country away from me and i had to start fresh. If you knew me now you’d assume i would have struggled to make friends once i moved to Colorado but to be honest, i made friends almost instantly. Ryan and Austin were the first people id consider actual friends to me. The only issue is Ryan and Austin were kind of the problem children. I'm not going to say they were the worst kids in the country but just a little too much edge for me to feel comfortable. Its not like i was some goody two shoes or something but lets just say i cried when i said my first curse word. I was just a lil baby. Austin actually gave me my first porno i ever saw. Well, I didn't actually watch it but it was the first porno disc i ever saw. I ended up throwing it away because i was scared id get caught with it. Anyways, after that i drifted quickly away from the two and found my new friend Clayton. 

Clayton was cool. He liked video games which i guess in hindsight is pretty much the only barrier to entry when it comes to me. Clayton introduced me to a bigger group of friends who ended up being the group that would for the most part stick together all through high school. This is kinda where things take a turn for the worse so trigger warning for here on out. So the larger group consisted of me, Joel, Clayton, and Sawyer with a few others coming in and out over the years. Joel immediately took on the “leadership” role simply because he was the most charismatic and he had the most stuff which i guess is how things work for kids idk. After spending sometime with the group I quickly noticed issues with everyone's family life. Claytons parents were very conservative and Christian and were VERY strict with everything he did. We were rarely allowed over, he was rarely allowed to hang out with us. If his grades slipped he was punished. If he didn't do exactly what they said he was punished. It was so severe that he wasn't allowed to drink monster energy drinks which at the time were huge. And while i agree kids shouldn't drink energy drinks, claytons parents would take it so far as to beat him if he was caught with one. I remember very vividly the amount of fear he had for his parents. Joel on the other hand suffered verbal abuse. And while i never was able to confirm it, i think there was an instance where Joel was also beat. His parents were also conservative Christians. With Joel's parents, the expectations weren't quite so high but everything he did was ridiculed. Everything was second guessed, everything was questioned. They pushed Joel to the edge and the second he decided to push back he was threatened with military school. Sawyer parents were more of the same. I mention this only to give an idea about why they all turned out the way they did.

When you start to map things out the way I've done hundreds of times it very clear to see what went wrong. Abuse begets abuse and it really haunts my soul to have seen what happened to them. The story with Clayton is a little bit more simple. After our freshmen year of highschool he started hanging out with the worst people and got hooked on Meth. We all stopped hanging out with him after that. The last time i saw him he was in rehab which is good but he looked horrible. It broke my heart to see that. Sawyer probably got away from it the least scared. He really got into taking shrooms but the last time i saw him he looked ok. To be perfectly honest i mention sawyer the least in this because out of everyone, hes the only person i wish i was still friends with. He hurt me the least. The history with Joel is the most complicated. 

Going back in time a bit, despite the issues they had, things were great. We all had an incredible amount of fun and spent as much time together as we could. But it seemed like overnight he changed. He went from being a chubby anime nerd who played PlayStation with me and showed me what Smosh was to some weird skinny death metal hipster who hated everything. And you know what? I dug it. He was right. Everything did suck and our teen angst made everything seem so much worse. Cant imagine what that's like for kids now. I was just unfamiliar with it all but i didn't care. I embraced it all the same. See, before i met Joel i knew very little about everything. I didn't know what Anime was, i never heard of Devil May Cry, id never even had fish before. As a kid, i would just watch wrestling and buy whatever game was cheap. I didn't watch TV and i didn't have internet so if it wasn't within my field of view, i would never hear about it. Then i met Joel and suddenly my whole world view completely changed. He started showing me all sorts of cool stuff and it was fun and exciting and new. But after he made that switch in personality all that stuff i lacked started to become slights against me. For some reason they became reasons to attack me. “What, you've never heard of One Piece? What are you some kind of stupid piece of shit?”. At first i didn't take it too seriously. I thought it was just hazing. Just what friends do. You know that meme of how the meaner guys are to each other the closer their friendship was? Yea, i thought it was that. I wasn't the biggest fan of it but if it meant i had friends i would deal with it. 

My self esteem was in rapid decline as we approached highschool. I was never happy with myself but i started to have outside sources feeding negativity into me and it was making things ten times worse. Joel was really good at picking at me in little ways that would drive me crazy and when i would snap back he would he would say “Why are you acting so crazy? Its not that big of a deal. You're being weird”. And he made me think he was right. It feels like an over reaction to get upset when someone does something mildly annoying but the way he would do it... Joel was very good at manipulating me. I don't know how to describe it. He just made me feel crazy. And while doing so he would find ways to pull me in closer. Like i felt like if i didn't have Joel i would have nothing. And that i would rather die than have nothing. So i just took it. I took all the abuse. After a while Joel began the process of self sabotage. He would get into fights and ruin friendships over incredibly small things. I would show up to school and ask where somebody was and he would just say “Hopefully rotting in a fucking ditch” and i would just know that i was no longer friends with that person. I was so attached to Joel that whatever he did affected me. If he stopped being friends with someone i would have to stop being friends. And Joel moved fast to. Unpredictably sometimes. I wouldn't even know there was an issue until it was over. He isolated me. There was a point in time where if i had gained the courage to stop being friends with Joel i could have had other friends but Joel had gotten me to the point where i had run out of options. I hated him. I hated how much control he held over me. I hated how i let him do everything he did to me. It reached a point where my self esteem got so low that i told myself that id rather sacrifice my mental health to make Joel feel better than make Joel upset because i couldn't bare the idea of losing him as a friend. 

I thought things would get better after Highschool. In a way they did. The dynamic had changed. The plan was for all of us to move in together. Me, Joel, Sawyer, and another friend named Kevin. But i was terrified of moving in with them. I knew how bad Joel was and i didn't want to be around him that much. I finally gained some courage and told Sawyer that i wasn't going to move in with them. I was promptly stripped from the group and everyone immediately stopped talking to me. I stood up for myself and my biggest fear came true and i was alone. Everyone i could have been friends with i left behind in highschool. I stayed loyal to someone i never should have and it bit me in the ass. I became incredibly depressed. I few months passed and Kevin had hit me up. He told me after i was dropped from the group everything had fell apart. Joel and Sawyer got into a fight and weren't speaking and now nobody was moving in with anyone. Eventually Joel hit me up as well and we started hanging out again. Joel had gotten himself a girlfriend and for a little bit things were good. Until Joel told me that he was having problems with his family. I thought i was being nice when i told him he could move in with me. After all, I had been used to doing everything i could to make Joel happy. Joel accepted my offer and moved in with me but that's when him and his girlfriend broke up and i was officially on deathwatch. I spent hours everyday staying up till 4 or 5 am making sure he didn't kill himself. We would go on drives because he hated my house and wanted to escape it. I was miserable. I was in a constant state of fear that i would wake up and see Joel dead in my room. I wanted to die. I wanted Joel to live. I couldn't figure out how to save my friend and i didn't realize how much it was killing me. His toxicity. His negativity. The first time he had been nice to me in years and it was essentially on his deathbed. 

I’ll spare you the details but Joel and his ex didn't work out. Joel got better. He also got worse. It was around this time i realized what Joel had done to me. All that time i thought I was protecting him from himself i was really redirecting his vitriol onto me. I acted as his shield. I think about it often. I think about who Joel used to be and who he became. I miss him. The old him. I’m filled with PTSD from what he did to me. I'm scared of making new friends. Joel ruined me and its so fucking hard trying to rebuild myself. Sometimes i wanna give up. Sometimes i think it would be easier to go back to him. I just wish things could have been different. I fucking hate what Joel's parents did to make him that way. I just needed to get this off my chest. I wish i could have told it more clearly but whatever. Thanks for reading this. 

#abuse tw #verbalabuse #victim #triggerwarning #frienship

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Surfer!5SOS Masterlist

All I Ever Needed Was You (ao3) - CliffordAffliction michael/luke E, 35k

Summary: or Michael moves away after being friends with Luke for years and when he comes back a year later they realize how much they really needed each other

Braving the Cold (ao3) - nonstopfangirl

Michael/Luke, Luke/Ashton NR, 5k

Summary: Ashton drags his friend Luke to the slopes, even though he hates snow. But when one of the instuctors starts giving him private lessons will Luke find that maybe it wasnt such a bad thing that Ashton made him brave the cold.

currents (ao3) - qeut Luke/Ashton M, 1k

Summary: he knew now, he knew it was all over. he’d fought his very hardest, but it wasn’t enough. he was running out of oxygen. water was replacing air.

ashton succumbed to the ocean.

I'll Melt You Down Like Ice Cream (ao3) - uneighteen (renjunkr) Luke/Ashton NR, 2k

Summary: In which Luke is a clumsy boy who works for the ice cream stand at the beach and Ashton's the cute surfer guy.

Or, Luke puts extra sprinkles on Ashton's three scoops of chocolate ice cream.

I’m Always Tired But Never Of You (ao3) - Olivia5Hemmings N/R, 84

Summary: Stoner meets Surfer. Luke meets Ashton.

Ashton hates people who smoke anything, he classifies that as drugs.

Luke hates people who surf, he thinks they’re all full of themselves or very immature.

They both hate each other with a passion and say the reason they still go back to the beach everyday isn’t because of each other-it is, it really is though.

Its Not So Easy To Just Say Fuck It (ao3) - bitchnluke Luke/Ashton T, 2k

Summary: Ashtons whole life is about surfing, but this one blonde boy gets in the way of that. He also happens to be a fratboy that claims hes straight, but his actions prove otherwise.

Looks Like He Can Surf (ao3) - LyricalPary (hoseoky) Luke/Ashton E, 174k

Summary: They spend the summer before university in an old beach house. Luke meets the human embodiment of sunshine. Just like the ocean waves, sometimes people are unpredictable.

Of Monsters and Cute Surfers (ao3) - orphan_account Luke/Ashton NR, 1k

Summary: Luke, Calum and Michael go to the beach for the day. Searching for Michael's lost ball, Luke finds himself in a spot of trouble. His rescuer? Ashton Irwin. Aka not a sea monster.

Ocean Avenue (ao3) - CliffordAffliction calum/ashton M, 20k

Summary: Cashton adventures based off of the song Ocean Avenue by Yellowcard

Surfer Boys (ao3) - orphan_account michael/luke N/R, 2k

Summary: i saw a thing like "imagine ur otp trying to surf" so here it is michael and luke edition

Where the Water Meets the Sky (ao3) - guyi (orphan_account) Luke/Calum G, 11k

Summary: Calum looks down at where their fingers are interlocked and then back up at Luke. He wears a smile on his face and his eyes glisten in the sun. His hair is wet and it’s dripping down the sides of his face. Calum loves this, loves seeing Luke in all of his natural beauty in the sun. Loves spending time with him even though he shouldn’t. He loves every second of it, up until the minute he has to go back underwater.

or, Calum is a merman and Luke is a human. They fall in love.

you've no worry, you say forget the world (ao3) - merlypops michael/luke T, 2k

Summary: 'Michael gave Calum his best smile and the smaller man snorted with laughter, tossing a stretched-out Chewbacca t-shirt towards his boyfriend. Michael couldn’t remember who it had belonged to originally but he struggled into it, duvet pooling around his waist as he tried to put his head through the arm hole. “This is the guy I fell in love with,” Calum said to no one in particular, looking dramatically away from Michael like he was in The Office or something.'

Michael and Calum ran away to be together, and the pair of them are hopelessly in love.

#5sosfanfictioncatalogue #5sos fanfic #5sos #5 seconds of summer #masterlists #surfer #surfer masterlist

[high-lowlights]

July 4th, 2022 10:07 PM

I’m trying to exist on my own. For myself. It’s hard and weird and I think people think I’m selfish. Maybe they’re right. Maybe I am selfish. But what’s so wrong with that? I don’t think I’m actively hurting anyone. I don’t feel like being cheery, bubbly Jordan. She’s still there, trust me. She comes in waves. Like at 3 in the morning when everyone else is asleep. She’s there. Just not as… prominent. I don’t want to say the heartbreak is the cause of that. I wanna think that maybe I’m just maturing. I also recently realized that I still take myself too seriously sometimes. Child abuse/trauma aside, I have been working on that forever… or so I thought. I guess at some point I stopped improving. I don’t know when that was though. I’m trying to get out of my head. It’s a dangerous, scary place. The thoughts I have sometimes scare me. Because if something isn’t going my way, I think of the “only way out”. So yeah. It’s not healthy. I’ve been thinking about going to therapy a lot. But it’s not within my means right now. I’m about to move and that’s going to be expensive enough. But is my mind rotting away with all of this going to make me regret that decision later… maybe. I’m become super self aware lately. I’m becoming aware of all of my flaws. Some good things about myself, too. But mostly the flaws. It’s good to reflect but becoming this self aware comes with its issues. Like feeling like I am unworthy of loving someone in my current state. I’ve been struggling with that quite a bit. Like am I ready to love another man? Am I capable of tweaking here and there when need be? Can I learn to set my ego aside and stop feeling threatened all the time? I’m more scared of hurting someone than getting hurt myself. I sincerely mean that. I hate hurting people. I keep beating myself up about the breakup. “I shouldn’t have worded it like that.” “I should have texted first.” “I should have just told him forgetting my birthday was hurtful.” I should have just swallowed it and kept it pushing.” Should have… should have… should have… I hate that. I hate this too. Being heartbroken is terrible. My mind is going here and there. Everything reminds me of him. Yesterday my sister was talking about the lion king live-action movie and I remembered that he had been snapchatting me while my family and I were watching it. It was a few hours before he sent THE text. The “can we make this work?” text. I miss that time of my life. I don’t wanna go back. But I do miss it. I keep asking myself if I knew this was our fate would I have texted back… the answer changes every half hour just about. Yes. No. Possibly? I’ve been refraining from texting him out of respect but my self control is dwindling. I miss him being in my life. I miss loving him actively. I still pray for him and his family. I don’t even know why. Well I guess because I love him of course. Even if he is busy loving someone else. Here are some questions that keep swirling around in my little silly mind: Does he love her the way he loved me (well how much)? Does he ever accidentally call her my name? Why did he choose her? Is he with her right this very second? Could we ever work in the future? Have they already discussed getting married? Has he introduced her to his family? Does he think of me still? Is he telling himself that he never “actually” loved me? Why was it so easy for him to move on? These questions all hurt. As I’ve said a million times: I’m at a loss. School starts in a little over a month. I’m super nervous. Academia twitter is freaking me the freak out. I have a lot of questions and most of them will be unanswered until I’m actually there doing the thing. I want to make myself proud. I want to accomplish a lot. I want to learn to advocate for myself. I really need to update my vision board. There’s a lot of new goals I have. I need the visual representation. I think it really helps. I’ve been moody recently. I feel terrible but I don’t know how to actively describe what I am feeling. Every little thing is sending me over the edge.

[huge-enthusiast]

Miraculous fic recomendations!!

This is just an excuse to show all my bookmarks? Yes. Yes, it is. I'm pretty sure most of this fics are really popular, but try see if you find something you didn't knew about!

All of the fics will be rated Teen and up audiences or lower. Also if I don't put the author's tumblr is because they didn't put it in the fic or/and I couldn't find it.

Pairing: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug

knowing you by emsylcatac (they are not really the author of the fic but that's the account that says in the fic, the actual author doesn't have an account).

After dropping their transformations months ago, Marinette and Adrien see each other for the first time after being apart. They've both left too much unsaid and have to work to pick up the pieces of their confused hearts.

Chapters: 1/1

Post-reveal but mostly ladynoir, light angst with happy ending.

the last day on earth by Reiaji

The first time Marinette sees Chat Blanc, she's fourteen years old. The second time, fifteen—the third time, seventeen.

The closer she grows to Adrien, the harder it is to save him.

Chapters: 1/1

Post-reveal lovesquare, kinda heavy angst, hopeful ending.

tell me something i don't know by carpisuns (@carpisuns here on tumblr)

Do you think it still means something? To love someone, even if the universe said you had to?

The odds of having a soulmate are about negative one billion (or something like that). But somehow, like they always have, Marinette and Chat Noir find themselves together. They’re ready to finally tell each other everything, but it turns out that even soulmates have to keep secrets, and while their bond draws them together, duty forces them apart.

Chapters: currently 17/28 (WIPs can be exhausting but this one is 100% worth the wait!)

Mostly marichat but almost all of the lovesquare sides make an appearance, soulmates au, mostly fluff but it can get angsty if it wants to.

One Thing After Another by SKayLanphear

Marinette notices that, sometimes, Adrien acts a little out of the ordinary--like the time he stood in a cardboard box for no reason, or when he actually hissed at Nino. It's only when she starts to notice the similarities between Adrien and a certain feline that she begins to get suspicious.

Basically, Adrien acts like a cat when he probably shouldn't.

Chapters: 15/15

Mostly adrienette with one sided reveal by Marinette's side, miraculous side effects (by both sides wich is really cool!), it's fluff with a lil tiny angst for drama.

This would take some getting used to by Codango (@codango here on tumblr!)

Adrien peeked out from behind the chimney even as the magic of his own Chat Noir mask fell away.

She was still visible, her dark hair bobbing under the street lamps a couple blocks away.

“Marinette.”

Adrien blew out a confused breath. His fiery Ladybug… was the quiet little mouse who sat behind him in class?

“What. The.”

This… would take some getting used to.

Chapters: 8/8

Adrienette with one sided reveal by Adrien's part, awkward flirting, just fluff, nothing to worry about.

comfort food also by Reiaji!

In Marinette's house, cooking is a language of love, and Marinette loves Adrien more than most.

Chapters: 1/1

Adrienette with a little of ladynoir, super super fluff, a lot of insight into Marinette's chinese heritage.

The right side of his face by walkingonthestars (@hamsternamedmarinette here on tumblr!)

Marinette and Adrien are able to remain in their new seats in the back of the room at the end of Chameleon.

Chapters: 1/1

Adrienette, fluff with light angst.

it's a long way forward so trust in me by aloneintherain (@captainkirkk here on tumblr!)

“You’re not the only strong one around here, Chat,” Marinette said. She looked a little winded, but she wasn’t struggling to hold him up.

This close up, he could see the freckles on the bridge of her nose. He could see how that smug smile lit up her eyes. He could feel the strain of her arms—and wow, okay, he really wasn’t the only person around here with muscles.

Six times Marinette carried Adrien (plus one time he carried her).

Chapters: 1/1

All the sides of the lovesquare! Fluff with LOTS of mutual pining.

a fight that you were born to lose also by aloneintherain

When the prosecution starts throwing around the word victim in reference to Adrien, he has to stuff his hands under his thighs to keep himself from bolting out of the courtroom.

Adrien had felt unsafe during those last few weeks, but, until he had woken up and seen Father silhouetted in his bedroom doorway, that had only been paranoia. Father was controlling and cold, but he wasn’t hateful. Adrien was isolated. He was often hungry. And some weeks ago, when he had snuck out to visit Nino, sitting thigh-to-thigh on his bed while Adrien cried in that silent, crumbling way of his, he hadn’t argued when Nino put a hand on his shoulder and said, tentatively, That’s abuse.

But Adrien remembers being small and Father touching his hair after he’d aced another test; Father holding his scribbled drawings like they were something precious, and framing them around his office; Father, dressed as Hawkmoth, his eyes wild behind the mask, lashing his sword against Adrien’s baton; Father, collapsed against Mum, crying into her ashy hair.

Adrien finds out Gabriel is Hawkmoth, and Gabriel gets to bring his long-waited plan into action.

Chapters: 1/1

This one doesn't really focus in the ship that much as is an Adrien character study and an exploration of his relationship with his father, but they're still there so I put them here. Really heavy angst (this is one of this fics that haunt me in the middle of the night) with a happy ending. ❗TW: parental abuse, eating disorders❗

Supercut by LNC

Marinette loves her friends and Adrien can't deal.

Chapters: 1/1

Post-reveal lovesquare, again light angst, an exploration of Adrien's insecurities, Marinette Dupain-Cheng deserves the world, happy ending.

Madame Snare by jettiebettie

“Sounds like a lot of work for nothing. She should take this as a sign to have a relaxing weekend with no responsibilities.”

“It's a lot of work she put her whole heart into. It wouldn't be right for it to go to waste,” Adrien whispers to him. The look on Marinette's face is enough to cause Adrien's own heart to ache. If anyone deserves the satisfaction and pride from a job well done, it's her.

“Too bad there isn't anyone else who can walk in those death traps,” Plagg says. Adrien hums in thought, tapping his chin.

“I could.”

Chapters: 1/1

Marichat, episode-based, Chat Noir in a dress!!!, light angst but it's mostly just idiots being idiots and a lot of fun.

in the same sun by peachcitt (@peachcitt here on tumblr!)

"It’s hard to believe that I saw you last at the peak of summer, when the sun was close and warm - and so were you. It should go without saying that I miss you. I miss you something terrible."

//

"It’s been seven months to the day since I’ve seen you. I wish you were here more than anything else."

Two letters, signed with initials instead of names, found in Paris, France.

Chapters: 1/1

Ladynoir, just angst, that's it, written like letters. No ending, just pain.

an uncurtain discovery by Missnoodles (@ladyofthenoodle here on tumblr!)

When he returns from school on Wednesday afternoon, Adrien discovers the darkness in his own home. He struggles to come to terms with it. To his utter mortification and delight, Ladybug is nearby to rescue him.

(He does not discover that his father is supervillain. That will happen on a different Wednesday.)

Chapters: 1/1

Ladrien, it says it's crack, and don't get me wrong, is super funny, but I also found it sad as fuck?

An Open Secret by Kasienda

Adrien whirled around toward Marinette. She smiled at him.

He couldn’t smile back. He stared at her like the dumb blond model that he was often accused of being.

Something shifted in her expression. And her warm open Marinette smile transformed into Ladybug’s grin. He was looking at Ladybug right now.

He knew Ladybug’s name!

Her name was Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

And he couldn’t say anything! Not to Marinette! Not even to Plagg, who had confided two weeks prior that Master Fu was growing increasingly paranoid since the location of his home and hideout had been compromised. Their master had apparently decided that Chat Noir and Ladybug would have to give up their miraculouses if they ever discovered each other’s identities.

It wasn’t fair!

...

A fic where they both know, but can't openly talk about it.

Chapters: 4/4

Post-reveal... but is it? Mostly adrienette and ladynoir, fluff with light angst and them being absolute idiots at hiding their secret identity.

golden (like daylight) by okayanna (@anna-scribbles here on tumblr!)

Friendship, Adrien decided, shaking off the mental image of Marinette’s hurricane eyes and hesitant mouth, parted in a small, careful “o.” He had a very strong friendship with Marinette. That was all.

or

Adrien thinks a lot about words, love, and Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Chapters: 1 + epilogue

Adrienette but has lots of ladynoir, another Adrien character study because I hate myself, it tries to not be angst but the writing will punch you in the guts and make you cry, it's so good.

Strangers in the Bright Lights by poodles (@ladybeug here on tumblr!)

Adrien is about two drinks in when he sees a girl at the end of the bar wearing black cat ears. It's kind of weird, so he watches her, and although it's crowded he can see her face when she turns around. She’s wearing a Chat Noir mask. He takes a quick look around- nobody else is wearing a mask. Just her.

Adrien finishes his gin martini and heads over to her. He could use some company tonight anyways, he hasn’t told anyone he’s back in Paris and Nathalie won’t arrive in town for another month. And it’s been a rough day, okay? A rough move! He’s not sure he wants to be back yet, and he spent most of the day in the Agreste mansion sorting through some photographs of his father he found in the study. Maybe he wants a drink and some stranger to tell him he’s pretty! That’s not a crime, is it?

Chapters: 1/1

Adrienette but it's also ladrien??? I think??? It's super super angsty but they're both drunk the entirety of the fic so it's also really funny.

Pick-Up and Chase by also SKayLanphear

After she accidentally trips into Adrien and apologizes about "falling for him," Marinette learns that he's no match for cheesy pick-up lines--whether they were unintended or not. And while she finds it flattering that he turns into a flustered mess with only a few words, Marinette comes to regret making him uncomfortable. That is, until she learns he's Chat Noir. At which point the phrase "just deserts" becomes a permanent fixture in her everyday plans.

A story in which Adrien is flustered, Marinette is smooth as glass at dropping lines, and Chat Noir gets the romance he was always asking for--even if he doesn't quite know how to handle it.

Chapters: 10/10

Adrienette with one sided reveal by Marinette's side, it doesn't say it in the tags but I'm pretty sure the characters are much older than they actually are in the show, so much fluff and so much flirting.

Pairing: Alya Césaire/Nino Lahiffe

Nino Has Done Nothing To Deserve This by GuardianKarenTerrier (@guardiankarenterrier here in tumblr)

It's nothing, really- just an innocent comment, a joke. But when they hear it, Nino and Alya come to a realisation.

There were, in retrospect, dozens upon dozens of hints. Now that they're suddenly aware of all their friend's flimsy excuses and rushed explanations, they're not only sure how they've missed it, they're not sure how anyone else has either. They realise that it had to be magic protecting their friends- and that same magic has ceased to work on the two of them.

Well, this means they'll just have to start watching over their friends themselves.

Chapters: 7/7

This is more a found family fic than anything else, Alya and Nino are the mom friend, has light angst but it's mostly identity shenanigans in the most bizarre way. ❗TW: eating disorders❗

christmas lights by demistories

Nino checks up and down the street, checking to make sure there’s no raging akuma headed his way before he crosses quickly and ducks inside the small café. He closes the door quickly before the icy air can blow inside and tugs his beanie down over his ears. He spots Alya sitting alone in the corner.

Chapters: 1/1

Just fluff!! Really short but really sweet.

hold on, i still want you also by Missnoodles!

Written for the @thedjwifizine ! Wich I also recommend if you wanna binge a lot of djwifi fics while also looking at amazing art!!!

Five times Alya ran into her ex, and the one time he stopped being her ex.

Chapters: 1/1

Light angst with a happy ending! I don't really like the ex-lovers to lovers trope but this one is the only exception.

I will continue to expand the list in the future! But by now I hope I was helpful in the search of new fics!

#miraculous ladybug #mlb #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #chat noir #ladybug #lovesquare #lovesquare fic rec #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #miraculous ladybug fanfiction recomendation #miraculous fic rec #fic rec #djwifi #ninalya #djwifi fic rec #adrienette fic rec #marichat fic rec #ladynoir fic rec #ladrien fic rec #ml #fanfiction

[redthoughtsblog]

It started out small. Like when someone mentioned the Wild Hunt and Derek’s eyebrows would knit together slightly. Sometimes he would tense up and turn to Stiles, looking as though he were ready to ask a question. Stiles noticed it, of course, but he never thought it through until Derek had been talking about his time spent on the run from the FBI.

“I had such little sleep that it was hard to tell if I was awake sometimes. That thing you taught me about counting fingers really helped.”

Stiles was about to ask how he remembered it if Stiles wasn’t even supposed to exist back then. But, the conversation moved on and the question slipped his mind.

Eventually Stiles put it together, when Derek started speaking about the wolfsbane bullets that the hunters had managed to shoot him with while he was on the run.

“It was the same bullet that I’d been shot with the first time I asked for your help - the one that almost cost me an arm.”

Derek was smiling slightly at the memory, an oddly fond look on his face, and Stiles mentally kicked himself for needing to know everything and not just enjoying Derek’s expression.

“Wait a minute, this was at the same time I was taken by the Wild Hunt, right?” Stiles asked, his eyes narrowing in thought.

“I think so.”

Stiles shook his head and frowned. “Then, how did you remember any of this?” Stiles’ eyes widened slightly. “Derek, did you... remember me?”

Derek looked down at his hands. “I... I don’t know.”

Stiles swallowed. “But, that’s... That’s impossible. Like absolutely, definitively impossible.”

Derek sighed and met Stiles’ gaze again. “I think maybe I did remember you. But, we’ve never really... you never told me that I should have forgotten you.”

Stiles bit his lip in thought. “That doesn’t make sense.”

Derek shrugged and shook his head. “I know.”

“You... The memories were probably like my Jeep, right?” Stiles asked after a few minutes of silence and the sound of his own brain whirring. “Like, they were left behind. They were an oversight, almost. A reminder.”

Derek swallowed and nodded. “Probably.”

Stiles nodded back, but the air was heavy with something he couldn’t quite name. Maybe it meant nothing - a simple glitch in the Wild Hunt. But it felt like it meant something. It felt like it was important, somehow.

“Maybe we should speak to Deaton about it. Or we could check the bestiary.”

Stiles stood up, ready to go into research mode, but Derek stopped him with a hand curling firmly around his wrist.

“Stiles, wait.”

Stiles frowned as Derek stood up, facing Stiles, but not letting go of his wrist.

“I... I sort of put things together recently.” Derek admitted. “I realised that I shouldn’t have remembered you.” He cleared his throat. “I looked into it, but nothing really came of it.”

Stiles frowned. “Okay. So, why didn’t you bring it up?”

Derek let out a breath of air before speaking again. “Because it kinda feels like...” He shook his head. “It feels like I couldn’t forget you.” He cleared his throat and seemed to make a decision in his head before his voice came out, softer than Stiles was expecting. “Stiles, it’s like... I would forget the whole world before I forget you.”

Stiles’ breathing quickened and his eyes widened slightly. His voice was practically a whisper when he finally managed to say, “Really?”

Derek nodded, his eyes falling to where his hand was still wrapped around Stiles’ wrist.

Stiles didn’t know what to say. He was speechless and he didn’t do well with silences, so he let his free hand wander to Derek’s jaw - let his thumb brush over his cheekbone - before leaning in and kissing him gently.

It was an innocent kiss. Soft. Slow. Sweet. It was everything he had ever needed from Derek. And it stayed that way until Derek made a small sound in the back of his throat and the kiss deepened, turning into something much less innocent and much more... More. It was hot and breathless and urgent, and it was everything Stiles had ever wanted from Derek.

When they eventually pulled apart, Stiles was struggling for breath and grinning like an idiot.

“You remembered me.” He said, his voice hoarse.

“Always.”

#sterek #derek x stiles #stiles x derek #wild hunt #derek remembers stiles even tho he shouldnt #which is all sorts of confusing #even tho its probably just a coincidence and his memories were left behind like the jeep

[winter-soldier-vibes]

Hey darling ❤️ love your writing 3000 :) can u do one with Bucky x reader (they’re together) where he overhears the reader on the phone with her parents that are emotionally & verbally abusive towards her (they always have been) and the reader has to explain it all to him afterwards even tho she’s having a panic attack (bc she’s afraid bucky will leave her since she has no one else to go to ??) and bucky comforts her and reassures her that he’s gonna be there for her and like comfort fluff? I live in an emotionally abusive and manipulative household rn and I tell you your fics are like an escape for me. Even if u don’t do this thank you from the bottom of my heart :)

Hey there, I love you 3000 ❤ I am so so sorry to hear about your situation, and while I'm glad to hear that my writing is an escape for you, I want you to know that I'm here for you. No one should have to go through what you described. I hope that this can bring you some comfort but please, I encourage you to reach out to someone who can help you. My DM's are open as well, you shouldn't face this alone. I'm here for you!!!

You owe them nothing

Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 3200 (ish)

Warnings: emotional abuse/gaslighting, manipulation, parent issues, tears, angst, breakdown, fluff.

---------

You really tried to keep it hidden. It wasn’t something that everyone needed to know about.

Your parents loved you, at least that’s what they had said. But it was one of those things where you felt like it was for show - the kindness that they showed when you were around others faded away once you were alone with them.

You remember once they had said “of course I love you, I’m your parent!”

But that made you wonder how they would treat you if you weren’t theirs.

They were horrible to you for as long as you could remember. Gaslighting you and making you feel like you owed them something even though they were the ones who should have taken care of you.

They were around but never…there. They would be there for family dinners but they were always riddled with criticisms of grades and who you were talking to and how you dressed. All of your hobbies were seen as a waste of time, something you should only do when you had nothing else to do. School came first, naturally, but there was always something they told you you had to do before you could do anything for yourself.

Yet when you would complain about being depressed, they told you to get a hobby because you never do anything.

Tired meant lazy, energetic and passionate meant loud and annoying. When you were quiet they thought you had nothing to say, yet when you expressed your opinions you were told to shut up.

You couldn’t win.

You could never make them happy, there was always something you were doing wrong.

They thought it was their right to monitor who you talked to and saw, what you did outside of school, what sports you could join. When you would say no to the school dances or parties you would make up an excuse about not wanting to go or having work to do. Your friends would call you a buzz kill. Little did they know you would give anything to go.

Whenever you would do something wrong (or anything, period,), your parents would yell at you. They would curse you out, make you cry, only to yell at you for crying like a little bitch.

The older you got, the worse it was.

You thought when you moved out it would be better. But you had all these years of being told you were worthless and having them be your providers. When you got your own place you didn’t really have any friends, nor did you really know how to make friends. You had a job to help you get by, you could support yourself. That wasn’t the issue. You could support yourself, you always had to.

It was that you were so lonely.

You wanted friends but you were so afraid of the criticism you would get. You were afraid to make yourself known, because you were always taught that being told what to do and taught what to think was much more appealing than having your opinion.

But this was an opinionated world.

You were good at what you did, so good that you had gotten a job at S.H.I.E.L.D. You thought that would make you happy, more importantly that it would make your parents happy, but no such luck.

“I got a really great job, guys.”

“Fantastic. I guess you’re just doing so great without us,” they had snapped.

“What? I mean… this is what you wanted right? For me to get a good job?” you had said, confused.

You heard a loud sigh on the other end of the line. “Of course we do, what are you crazy about? Of course we wanted you to get a good job but you just deserted us like we were trash. Have we done nothing for you?”

You felt your heart sink in your stomach. ‘Of course you guys have, I love -”

“Don’t say what you don’t mean. If you really cared about us you’d be helping us out. You got a great job and probably have a huge paycheck that you hoard and you left us here to struggle to make ends meet.”

You took the phone away from your face temporarily to take a shaky breath. Of course they would go there with the salary, why wouldn’t they? All of your paychecks had gone to them, since it was their house and they were feeding you, leaving you with barely enough money for your car and gas and phone bills, only for them to suggest longer hours when you complained.

“I can help you guys out if you need,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

You heard an exasperated sigh on the other line again. “You really should be more grateful, you know? We raised you your entire life and then you leave us alone? You never even call us? You’re so fucking selfish.”

Then the line went dead.

You shook your head and felt tears in your eyes as you spoke to yourself. “Well maybe I would call you if it didn’t always yell at me.”

Of course, you would never say that.

See, it wasn’t so bad. You never said anything because they were only ever mean to you, which would make you uncomfortable. There were people out there that would get hit or who would have to raise themselves from a young age. Once you grew thick skin it wasn’t so bad, you were just being dramatic.

Right?

Your new job was fairly successful, you were fantastic at what you did. You did a lot of behind the scenes work, weapon repair and plans of action with missions. Not that they needed much help with that. Still, they took you in as their friends.

Well, as close as you would let them get to as friends.

It took a while before you warmed up to them. Everyone tended to keep to themselves, but not as much as you. You kept the parts of you hidden away - you were there for a job, you did it, and you did it well. You knew how to do your job but interacting with the team, making friends - you didn’t want to get emotionally attached.

Not like you knew how to make friends to begin with.

Naturally you were drawn to the quieter side of the team, once you were able to open up. They were all nice but sometimes the parties and the jokes were a bit much. You just didn’t want to say or do the wrong thing that would make you the punchline.

No one needed to know about you, or how you would spend your free time being yelled at through a phone with you trying to make it better. That wasn’t part of the job, so you shouldn’t bring it up.

It wasn’t like anyone would want to help. You were just a nuisance to everyone around you.

Right?

No one talked about their life before the team much. Not many people on the team had a great life before the Avengers first came together. Natasha or Wanda had once spoken about how this team was a family. And as much as you wanted to believe it, you helped the team. You weren’t a part of the team. So even if that were true, it didn’t include you.

At least, that was your point of view.

The team viewed you as a part of the team as much as any of them. You didn’t fight with them but you made sure everything would go as smoothly. You were kind and great at what you did, but they wished you would open up more. Of course, being a team of people who had trouble opening up, they understood.

Bucky was one of the ones who took a liking to you, mostly because he saw a lot of himself in you. He could tell there was something that you were trying to get past but weren’t quite able to yet. That there was something bothering but you wouldn’t dare say it for fear of bothering someone. You threw yourself into projects and distractions and from the way you carried yourself, he guessed you were avoiding something that you weren’t ready to work through. At least, not yet.

He knew that feeling too well.

The ex-assassin was one of the easiest for you to open up to because he didn’t expect much from interactions. Both of you were quiet and kept to yourselves that there wasn’t much pressure to share anything or say anything. You knew his past but would never bring it up unless he wanted to. Which eventually, he did. You could tell he felt pressure to be who he was before HYDRA took him, and while Steve was surprised he opened up to you first, you weren’t. Steve knew Bucky before everything, and you didn’t have that bias. He was whoever he was today regardless of who he was yesterday.

And Bucky found comfort in that.

You think you would’ve too, if you thought you deserved it enough to do the same.

See, you were worried that you were making everything worse than it really was. You worried that maybe you were being too sensitive or that what you had grown up with was normal. With everything that everyone on the team went through, a few insults from your parents was hardly anything. You were being dramatic.

There was nothing to be sad or angry about. You just had to get over yourself.

Right?

You were getting by until one night when your parents called, as they did on occasion. You were in the middle of working, so you ignored it. The phone went to voicemail before it started ringing again, and you ignored it, again. The third time you sighed and picked up your phone, turning away from your work.

You took a deep breath before you answered. “Hello?”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

You closed your eyes and brought a hand to rub your head. “Well I’m doing fine, thank you, how are you?”

“Don’t give me that attitude. What the fuck are you doing? You’ve been ignoring our calls.”

You stood up to pace the floor slightly, dreading the conversation that was coming. Is it the ‘family is most important’ or the ‘where’s my money?’ speech today? “I’ve been working.”

“What, so work is more important than family now? Is that what this is? You don’t care about us?”

Family speech it is.

“Dad -”

“What if one of us was dying? Huh? Would that be important?”

“Stop it. No one is dying, and I was working. And I have more work to do, so I really have to go.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do, I’m your father.”

Gaining confidence you gritted your teeth and snapped, “You know what? I’m an adult now so you can’t tell me what to do.”

There was silence on the other end of the line and you could practically hear the steam coming out of your father’s ears.

At some point Bucky had come down to your working space to check on you, seeing as it was nearly morning. He stopped in the doorway, and seeing you were busy on the phone he thought he would stop by later to give you some privacy. But he stopped when he heard you snap.

You never snap.

“Who do you think you’re talking to you ungrateful little bitch?”

“I’m talking to the people who treated me like shit my entire life and ask me for money when you wouldn’t give me the time of day for 18 fucking years.”

Even you couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth. But god did it feel good to say them.

“Are you fucking serious right now? We did nothing for you? What do you think we’ve been doing your whole life? We’ve done everything we did to help you be the best person you could be. You have that job now because of us and you have no right to speak to me that way.”

You chuckled darkly as you looked up at the ceiling, unaware of Bucky’s presence behind you. “My entire life all I’ve ever wanted to do was make you guys proud of me. But you know what? I’m fucking done. You hated me, gaslighted me, and made me hate myself almost as much if not more than you seemed to hate me.”

“I did no such thing you ungrateful -”

“You were supposed to love me and care for me, and all you did was take advantage of me. I’m not your child, I’m a paycheck. I don’t owe you anything because you gave me nothing. So you know what? FUCK. YOU.”

You hung up the phone and tossed it across the room, adrenaline taking over your body as you tried to stop shaking. Because a small part of you felt bad.

But fuck did that feel amazing.

You heard a throat clear behind you and you turned around to see Bucky, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“You okay?”

You nodded nervously, rubbing the sides of your arms. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, unconvincingly. “How much, uh...how much did you -

“Enough,” he said, pushing himself off of the door frame as he crossed over to you. “Who was that?”

“Bucky, don’t, it’s really fine. I just got a little worked up.”

“Y/n,” he started, looking at you with concern. “Who were you talking to?”

“No one.”

“You don’t get upset like that at no one,” he took your hands in his. “Y/n, you're shaking.”

It was then that you realized your hands were still shaking, trying to keep the anxiety of what happened at bay.

It’s going to be so much worse now.

I can never talk to them again.

Is that a good thing? Didn’t I want that?

Bucky could sense you getting lost in your head. “Sweetheart, tell me what happened, please. I want to help you.”

You pulled your hands away from his and crossed your arms. “You can’t help me because there’s nothing wrong, okay? I handled it, it’s over. Done. nothing to worry about.”

“Y/n -”

“No really, there’s nothing you can do, okay?”

“Will you at least let me try?”

You looked at him, adrenaline starting to drain from your system. This was Bucky, your Bucky, who had never done anything but love and support you. He had never done anything to hurt you.

But what if he left you too?

You took in a sharp breath and curled in on yourself, a scared look on your face. Bucky crossed back over to you, seeing a scared look on your face.

“Hey, hey, y/n? Can you look at me?”

You brought your eyes up to meet his, feeling your chest constricting as you tried to keep your breathing even. It wasn’t working.

“I - I’m sorry, you shouldn’t… I’m fine really I’m sorry, I’m so sorry”

“Hey, it’s alright, it’s okay, you have nothing to apologize for,” he pulled you in for a hug and kissed the top of your head. “Let’s go sit down, okay?’

He led you over to your bed and you leaned forward, hands on your knees and head in your hands. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s happening, this - I’m sorry, it’s so stupid, I’m so stupid.”

Bucky rubbed a hand up and down your back, hushing you. “It’s not stupid. If it’s bothering you, it’s not stupid.” Bucky took a small breath. “Do you remember all of those times after nightmares and all those panic attacks you would walk me through? How I thought I was being stupid?”

“You weren’t being stupid”

“And neither are you.”

You took some more shaky breaths as tears kept falling down your face. “You’re okay. It’s alright, I’m right here.”

Bucky let you calm down, knowing you would talk about it if you wanted to. He wanted you to talk about it so he could help you (and hurt whoever upset you) but he wouldn’t force you into telling him anything you didn’t want to.

The two of you sat in the silence, Bucky looking at you with soft eyes as you kept your face hidden.

“I haven’t told you a goddamn thing about me. You ever wonder why?”

You looked over at Bucky, eyebrows creased with slight confusion.

“They said blood was supposed to be thicker than water. That family comes first, right? I spent my whole life listening to them and following them and being the perfect kid. I made myself into everything they wanted me to be. And it still wasn’t enough for them.”

Bucky tilted his head slightly. He hadn’t known his parents much before they died but he had always wanted to have more time. But he wasn’t oblivious to the fact that not everyone had good parents.

“You know, I remember thinking that once I made it they would be happy. That if I worked hard enough or went onto do great things that they would be proud of me. That’s all I ever wanted, you know?” you said, voice wavering as you let out a bitter laugh. “But it’s not, you know? Never is, never was, never will be. All they do is take and take and no matter how good I am they’re always gonna hate me because I can’t be perfect.”

“No one’s perfect, y/n.”

“Well that’s what they want me to be. I know I can’t be perfect so I know they’ll never be happy. That they’ll call me ungrateful and selfish for succeeding and for leaving them when they never wanted me to be there to begin with.” You felt tears spill over as you wiped them away. “And I’m ust so fucking done with being a disappointment to them and to everyone else.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“I don’t know,” you said softly, not really wanting to be more vulnerable.

Bucky, sensing this was a time he could push you, challenged you. “I think you do.”

You shook your head. “I didn’t want anyone to see me the way they did. I thought what they said wasn’t true but...I just thought that maybe I was overreacting. Other people have it worse you know - some people have no parents or some have it so much worse. Mine just yell at me you know? Tell me everything’s my fault and that they wish they’d never had me. That I’m ungrateful for not being with them and that I owe them. I just...I heard that for the first 18 years of my life. I didn’t need any more of it.”

“y/n, that’s…” he swallowed, trying to contain his anger. “That’s not normal. No one should have to go through that. You can’t possibly think you're a bad person.”

Your shrug was enough to tell him that you did.

“Y/n, I don’t know who your parents think they are but you don’t owe them a damn thing. You may be related to them but you have no obligation to love your parents if they treat you like that. You have every right to be angry or to hate them. It doesn’t make you a bad person to be angry with someone who hurt you.”

“But they’re my family.”

“Well they didn’t treat you like it. You have us now, you don’t need them anymore. We’re your family. And we’re not gonna leave you.”

“They didn’t leave me Bucky, I left them.”

“You can’t leave someone who was never there for you.”

----------

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[howdoyousleep3]

where’s that hc about bucky learning to touch 🤲

I was hoping someone would notice that tag and hit me up. Thank you, sweet pea. This one is special to me, one of many. ❤

Bucky doesn’t say much about what happened to him after the fall and before Steve was miraculously given a second chance at a life with him. Steve is thankful for that. The details he does know come from Bucky’s therapist and from files that have been scrounged up over time, ones Steve can’t stomach through, ones he hands to Natasha and asks only for the information she finds pertinent.

Steve is sure he’d die of a goddamn broken heart if he knew every detail of Bucky’s 70+ years of brainwashed torture.

What he needs to know about Bucky is constant and will never change: this is James Barnes, the one in the same Steve spent his entire life falling in love with, Steve loves him now more than ever, and he is going to live every day he’s gifted with in this life for Bucky.

There are things Steve expects after Bucky joins him and the others back at the Tower, things Bruce has helped him comprehend in such a volatile predicament.

“It could take months, years even, for him to come back to you in full. And honestly, Steve...I would be ready for the possibility of him not returning to you in full. This may not end up being the Bucky you knew and grew up with. He needs therapy, needs patience, needs reminders of his life before, of who he was and is. This won’t be easy, Steve.”

Anything for Bucky.

There are things Bucky took to right away and other things that took much longer for him to enjoy or remember. Steve is with him every step of the way.

Sleep was one thing that Steve thought would be a struggle. After only one month of sleeping on the floor in the corner of his bedroom, Steve able to hear him tossing and turning and breathing heavily through his own bedroom wall, it took one afternoon nap on the couch to make him want to move to his new bed. While nightmares continued, Bucky slept albeit in small increments and sometimes through the day, but he slept.

Steve thought that would take years.

Crowds were another story. Crowds came with trust and Bucky rightfully didn’t trust others easily. He barely trusted Steve at first. It took time to get him out of the apartment, baby steps, one step forward and two steps back. They started with walks at dawn, fewer people, gave a shot at stopping for coffee on the way home a few times.

“It’s a Venti here, Buck,” Steve had tried to explain and Bucky huffed. “Why are things so goddamn complicated now? Just want a coffee, a—”

“I know— a black coffee with too much sugar. I got it.”

They’re working on interactions with others and the anxiety that comes with crowds. That one will take time.

What hadn’t taken time, and what startled everyone in the tower beyond belief, was Bucky and affection.

Steve may not know much of what Bucky has spent most of his life enduring but he at least had the assumption that what Bucky went through shouldn’t make him want any kind of touch from another person. Steve wrongfully assumed that any sort of gentle or soft touch wasn't something Bucky would like.

Bucky had spent the past 70+ years walking this earth as a killer, a robot, a machine, an assassin. He surely spent decades thinking he wasn’t worthy of anything, let alone love. He had been touch-starved, void of the tenderness and closeness Steve knows Bucky deserved and craved underneath the brainwashed parts of him.

It took time for Bucky to remember who Steve was to him. While he had recognized him immediately, remembering him but not how, it took months for Bucky to remembered the capacity in which he did so.

And Steve waited.

And waited.

Steve was gifted with small moments along the way, on this journey of Bucky remembering both himself and who Steve was to him:

“You...you were real small once,” Bucky said, factual with no trace of a question, hands in soapy water as he handed Steve a plate to dry. Steve had merely hummed. “Yeah, was...was maybe half the size I am now. Real small.”

“Could fit both’a my hands right around your middle…”

It had been a long while since Steve blushed like that.

Bucky standing over Steve’s sleeping form, heaving chest visible by only the filtered moonlight, Steve mumbling out a, “Buck, wha—?” before Bucky whispered, “You...you’ve been inside of me.” Steve sat up.

“I have,” Steve breathed, on cautious ground, shakier when Bucky then whispered, “But you like it better when I’m inside’a you.”

When Steve had swallowed audibly, nodded his head wordlessly, Bucky had turned and left the room.

It took months of moments like those to compile together, to form the picture of what Steve once was, what he yearned to continue to be, to Bucky. All of these moments, these memories, came to a head so unpredictably during yet another movie night. Knees knocking, fingers brushing, small touches that Steve absolutely soaked in, had gotten used to, had relearned.

When a glance towards Bucky had the wind knocking its way out of Steve’s chest, the familiarity of that look a bone-deep ache—

Bucky was going to kiss him.

A look full of determination and want, lips parted, eyes a bit glassy. Steve didn't dare move, had let Bucky come to him for fear of scaring him away. The moment their lips touched was the moment Bucky started crying. It had only been a short brush of their lips but Steve barely breathed, barely moved. Bucky had pulled back with wide, wet eyes, shaky breaths. “Buck, it’s okay. It’s okay. Everything’s alright, sweetheart,” are the words that easily slipped from his mouth, unable to stop them in a moment of progress that satiated his entire being.

That was the moment that changed everything. It was a startle to everyone involved. Steve had been ready to wait years, this entire life, for the moment he could touch Bucky again, could show him that physicality he knew his Buck craved. After that night on the couch it was as if the floodgates had opened—

Bucky remembered and wanted.

Regardless of where they were or what was happening, he wanted to be touching Steve: soft kisses on the cheek and lips, laying his head in Steve’s lap as he read, lacing his fingers between Steve’s during meetings, an arm wrapped around Steve’s waist between bouts of sparring. He’d trace patterns onto Steve’s thigh as he watched Steve draw, press against the line of his back while he cooked dinner.

Steve was floating on a cloud, was in heaven, never happier. It was perfection.

But what Bucky wanted, Steve couldn’t provide, couldn’t meet. Steve was only one man, couldn’t provide Bucky, whom touch had been stolen away from for decades, with everything he wanted. And that was okay, something Steve accepted, because there were other people Bucky could turn to that Steve trusted.

“I’m sure you all know why I asked you to meet with me,” Steve started, choosing a time Bucky was napping to meet with the rest of the group that either lived in or frequented the Tower. “Bucky has shown us a new side of him, has made some progress I think it’s worth discussing with everyone, since we’re all...we’ve all been affected...”

“Uhh, yeah— your Barnes-y boy has been all over me lately. I’m almost offended that everyone else is here to talk to Cap though. Thought he was just comin' onto me.”

“I have to tell you, I didn’t...I know we talked, Steve. But I’m honestly shocked at Bucky’s progress. It’s baffling.”

“I haven’t minded it. He lets me braid his hair.”

“Wait— y’all are getting touches?”

It was a group effort, supporting Bucky in this way. It was an adjustment, Bucky never prompting and questioning before touching or requesting touches— he just went for it. He was quiet still, not shy, merely observant. And just like he nudged at and leaned against Steve until his hands were on him, he did the same to others.

“I just ask that you show Bucky grace during this time. It’s a delicate situation. I need to know if you don’t want his touch or don’t wish to give him any kind of touch. I think it would be best if it came from me instead of from you in the moment.”

Natasha was who Bucky went to for scratches. Steve thinks it’s the nails. Steve also thinks Nat is Bucky’s favorite to go to for touches, even over him, but Bucky refuses to admit it.

When Bucky wants mindless touches, when he wants tickles and scratches, he goes to her. She naturally took to Bucky’s need for touches, the first occurrence one that came without hesitation. She’ll braid his hair, let him turn his head right where he wants her head scratches, naturally reaches for his back or shoulders to run her nails across when he saddles in close to her.

Thor is one of Bucky’s favorites too. Steve isn’t sure if it’s because of his strength or because of his warm and accepting demeanor but Bucky gravitates towards Thor often, mainly for neck and shoulder rubs. One, “James, my friend. You musn’t be afraid of asking for touch with me. I will always be willing to assist,” and that was all Bucky needed to feel comfortable walking over to Thor and nudging at his hands.

He puts his head on Bruce’s shoulder as soon as he can, likes sparring and playing hide and seek with Clint, enjoys putting his feet in Sam’s lap. Tony took some warming up to, but even then Bucky spent many hours in Tony’s lab, Tony guiding his hands, showing him what to do and how to work different machines, the two of them tinkering on his own arm.

Bucky kinda turns into the Tower kitty cat, wandering around quietly, napping in the sun, snacking, demanding affection from anyone he crosses paths with and trusts.

Everyone had their form of touch they shared with Bucky and Bucky absolutely blossomed under this form of support. Steve is forever grateful to be surrounded by a group of understanding individuals.

And every night when he lifts the comforter and feels the solid line of Bucky’s warm form against his side, the arm that now easily and inevitably slips around his waist, the familiar lips that always press against his temple, shoulder, and cheek, Steve is reminded this day was for Bucky and that the one they’ll wake up to will also be for him.

"I love you, Buck."

"Mhmm love you too, pal."

Steve doesn't even mind that Bucky spends his nights snoring in the crook of his neck, hot breath wafting over Steve's skin, hands grabby even as he dreams—

This is heaven.

#askK #fluffy lub #recovering bucky #found family #avengers 2012 #this is one of a million i have of these #i rarely share like...canon-ish thoughts because i assume people are going to tear them to pieces lol #but i've been sitting on this one for a while #my tense might be way outta wack here lol my bad #tower of god

[milliedazzledust]

I'll Come Back for You (Bucky Barnes imagine)

REQUEST: ANON - something where he is in winter soldier mode and protecting the scientist (y/n) where she is the only one who can sort of calm him down after a mission

ANON - winter soldier!bucky being protective over his scientist who’s forced to be take care of his health and she’s being kept there against his will too

ANON - Bucky Barnes request about how both reader and Bucky are each other support systems? It could be like a headcanon, how would the reader comfort him while how he comforts her so forth and so on

WORDS: 3506

A/N: So I don't know if I was inspired or if I just wrote too much, but I'm not sure this story's good. Anyway, feedback is really appreciated and I hope you'll like it :) (also don't forget to tell me if you want to be on my taglist ^^)

“What happened this time ?”

Her voice was only a whisper in the quiet room. The broken man silently sat on the examination table while she stuck a needle in his functioning arm. He didn’t speak, didn’t even flinch. This masquerade had started the moment she had set foot inside Hydra secret base. They had brought her against her will to take care of their most valuable soldier. It was always the same dance, rehearsed a million times since she had met him. After each mission, each murder, he’d come to her. She’d fix his physical wounds, take care of his arm and let him go.

More than often, she found herself feeling sorry for him. She knew what Hydra was doing to him, she’d heard the screams echoing in the distance. It would keep ringing in her ears for hours. Sometimes, the simple thought of picturing what he was going through was enough to bring her to tears. No one deserved to suffer this way.

The Winter Soldier was a cruel man, an assassin. She had seen him in action, had even been attacked the first time they were introduced. But despite being the necessary tool to take care of their valuable killer, she liked him. This wasn’t a place anyone could handle, not even him. And while she was aware of the danger Hydra represented, he was a different story. The man he once was had been trapped in a small corner of his mind, disconnected. His hands were his own, but his actions were dictated by an army that had invaded his head long ago. He was a machine turned on and off at will by the power of ten simple words.

“I was stabbed” Was his only answer. He didn’t give any detail, simply raised his shirt so she could inspect the injury.

“Do you feel any pain ?”

He blankly stared at an invisible point on the wall, avoiding looking at her. He was aware anyone could be listening.

“Soldier ?” She called him, stopping her movement and waiting for his response.

“I don’t feel anything” His voice was emotionless and a chill ran down her spine when he spoke. He was detached, impassive, a statue unaware he was capable of sentiment.

She cleared her throat, trying to stay focused on her task. She cleaned the wound, took his vitals, wrote down the conclusion of her examination and prepared what she needed to sew him up.

When she was about to administer the anesthetic, he suddenly grabbed her wrist. She caught her breath, frightened, but made no movement. For the first time that day, he turned his head to look at her. Whatever she saw in his eyes was enough to ease the tension in her shoulders and she relaxed.

“It’s okay” She whispered, a kind smile on her face. “This is propofol”

She knew he would recognize the name. She had spent countless hours explaining everything she was doing to him in detail so he wouldn’t be uncomfortable or scared. He was a super soldier that required extreme measures of treatment.

“No drugs,” He told her.

“You might regret that decision once I start to put the stitches in”

“I need to stay conscious,” He explicated, almost begging her. “Please”

She didn’t argue, only glanced at a camera behind her recording their interaction.

“Alright” She conceded. “I’ll switch to saline”

He nodded, grateful she wasn’t pushing. She turned her back carefully so her table was no longer in the camera’s field of view and he watched her emptying the needle and filling it with a harmless mixture of water and sodium chloride. Nothing that would put him to sleep.

“Have you ever been to Greece ?” She asked him out of the blue. He stared at her curiously. “I’ve always dreamed of visiting. It has the longest coastline in Europe, with so many islands between the blue Aegean Sea to the east, the Mediterranean Sea to the south, and the Ionian Sea to the west. Can you imagine how beautiful it must be ?”

She kept talking for a while about the country, the books she had read and the films she had seen about it. His eyes stayed on her the whole time, his head tilted to the side, wondering why she was telling him all this. Not that he minded, he loved listening to her. She had the power to calm him down. He was constantly on high alert, ready to fight whomever he was told to kill, prepared to endure whatever torture they had prepared, but this room and the woman inside were his only small moments of peace. Her voice was the music he desperately needed to sooth his soul.

“Why are you telling me this ?” He wondered out loud.

She smirked. “To take your mind somewhere else than here. Seems like it worked”

He glanced at his stomach and realized the stitches were already there. Too engrossed in her story, he hadn’t noticed or felt anything.

“How…”

“Funny how magical words can turn out to be, isn’t it ?”

She could swear she saw the flicker of an emotion on his face looking back between his wound and the woman, but just as quickly as it came, it was gone.

“Thank you, doc”

She hesitated a moment before gently taking his hand on her own.

“Be careful” She muttered. “There’s only so much I can fix”

“I will” He promised. “Are they … are they treating you right ?”

She shrugged. “If threatening to kill me is what you consider right, then I guess I’m a real princess in a castle”

He ran a jerky hand through his hair and seemed to be looking for the right words to say but never spoke.

“Can I ask …” She began, curiosity getting the best out of her. “What is your real name ?”

When his gaze fell on her, all she saw was pure panic. Her question, as simple as it may have been, had surprised him. He didn’t remember, didn’t even question anyone, because it hadn’t mattered. He didn’t need to be more than a ghost to be able to kill.

“I’m sorry” She apologized. “I shouldn’t have asked. I didn’t mean to…”

“I don’t know” He admitted.

She gulped and looked away. His eyes held too much confusion and despair. Coming face to face with the enormity that was this man’s fate was sometimes undeniably heartbreaking.

“Can I call you Winter, then ?” She suggested.

He seemed to ponder for a while before offering her a small smile. “Yes, yes I’d like that”

It hurt to see a glimpse of happiness on his face for something as simple as a name and the woman didn’t realize that what she had just given him was the shred of an identity. A tiny piece he would hold onto. He was living inside a nightmare he had no idea he was trapped into, and if she dared to help, she would pay it with her life. So all she had the power to do was give him a name. Make him feel alive again.

The next time she saw him was only a couple of days after, carried by two agents, head hanging low and barely conscious. His clothes were stained in blood and his metal arm seemed dislocated.

“Patch him up” One of the men coldly ordered. They dropped the injured soldier on the ground like he was nothing more than an object, not even human.

She rushed to his side, checking his pupils first with a flashlight to rule out any intracranial damage to his brain. She did the same on his chest with a stethoscope, searching for any potential life threatening injury. When she moved to his shoulder to inspect the metal bones, he regained consciousness. Maybe it was the sight of yet another scientist above him or the touch of her fingers on his skin, but the man was quick to react and got on his feet in no time. His human hand wrapped around her neck tightly and he pushed her body with force against a wall, choking her. She tried to speak, but the action had been so sudden and violent that she was unable to move a muscle. He was in a trance, eyes filled with hatred that she knew was not directed toward her. Whatever he was picturing in his mind had awakened the assassin. She was the threat and he was in a game of survival.

She whispered his name several times but it was only after a minute, when she was on the verge of passing out, that he seemed to realize what he was doing. He stared at her with wide open eyes and released her from his grip. Her body fell on the floor before she started coughing, struggling to catch her breath.

“I’m…” He tried to speak, looking down at his hands in horror.

“Water” She managed to whisper.

He brought the woman a bottle and tried to help her on her feet. When he reached for her, she involuntarily flinched. A pure reflex. She didn’t miss the sadness on his face as he recoiled from her.

“I didn’t mean…”

“I know. It’s alright”

“I could’ve killed you” He said it more to himself than to her.

“But you didn’t” She laid a hand on her chest, taking a deep breath to try and calm her heart rate. “What happened ?”

“You touched me,” He explained.

“I touch you all the time” When he smirked, she realized the double meaning behind what she had just said. “Hm … why would it be any different today ?” She immediately changed the subject.

“Usually, when I’m unconscious I can … sense them around me. Working on me. And I can’t move but I still feel the pain”

Once again she was at a loss of words against the heaviness that was the burden of his life.

“Are you sure you’re alright ?” He repeated almost in a childish voice.

“I’ll get over it, don’t worry” She tried to reassure him. It didn’t seem to work. He took a temptative step, making sure she wasn’t uncomfortable. He moved his hand toward her neck, deliberately going as slow as he could. His eyes stayed on hers, watching out for any sign of fear. “What are you doing ?” She said in a breath, a different kind of shiver rolling down her spine.

“I need to make sure I didn’t hurt you” The sincerity and concern she heard in his voice were unsettling. She stared back in disbelief, but didn’t move. This was the closest they had ever been and it almost felt unreal for both of them. Too good to be true, especially in a place of nightmare like this.

He tilted her head to the back, still looking at her, and softly brushed his thumb over her skin. A bruise was already starting to appear. She saw the change in his eyes, the regret and sadness when he lowered his gaze. He kept inspecting her from all angles possible, making her chuckle in the process.

“Are you done, doctor ?” She joked.

He tried not to smile but miserably failed. “Almost. Haven’t found a diagnosis yet”

This time she laughed.

“C’mon, I’m not the real patient here. I need to take a look at you” She glanced at his metal arm, still dislocated. He was avoiding using it and she had noticed.

He sighed but didn’t remove his hand from her neck. Instead, his thumb slowly reached her cheek and he gently stroked her skin.

“I wish I could get you out of here” He whispered. “You don’t deserve any of this”

“Neither do you”

He clenched his jaw and plastered a tight smile, refusing to acknowledge what she had just said. He lowered his arm and sat on the examination table without saying anything.

“I’m gonna … hm … I’m gonna need to cut your shirt open” She gulped, trying to keep her cheeks from getting any warmer.

The man smirked and grabbed a pair of scissors nearby that he handed to her. She took it but didn’t dare to look at him, too uncomfortable by the situation. As she cut his shirt higher and higher, her hands started to shake. He could see her shifting her weight from side to side and desperately avoiding any eye contact. She was embarrassed and he was enjoying every second of it.

When finally she had taken it carefully off his body, she huffed in frustration. There was no denying that he had beyond toned muscle structure, verged into defined and well built curves.

“Is it… is it alright if I touch you ?” She allowed herself to take a glance at him, and rolled her eyes when she saw the smirk on his face.

“More than alright, doc” He teased her.

The moment her hands came in contact with his skin, he involuntarily flexed his muscles. She took a sharp breath, trying not to lose focus when she cleaned his wounds. She looked up at him to make sure he wasn’t in any pain, only to realize he was already staring. What should have been a quick glance turned into something more, a moment that lasted a little too long. When he leaned in toward her, she suddenly seemed to notice the lack of space between them. She cleared her throat and took a step back.

“Quit flirting, Winter” She reprimanded him with a playful grin.

He laughed. It was the first time she heard that sound and she couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her mouth. He looked so carefree and alive, so human. She was finally meeting the man behind the assassin, and he troubled her even more than the silent killer.

“I kinda like to see you flustered, doc”

She ran a hand through her hair, trying to hide her obvious nervousness.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” She pursed her lips to keep from smiling.

“Sure you don’t” He sniggered.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m gonna need to put that shoulder into place”

Instead of talking, he grabbed her hips and considerably shortened the distance she had put between them. Her eyes widened from both the sudden gesture and the feeling of his fingers on her body.

“Go right ahead, doc”

She leaned in toward him to have a better access to the injury, ignoring the unexpected shudder. She was practically over him, a hand on his shoulder, the other on his broad back. If he felt any pain when she pushed the bones back into place, he didn’t show.

“All good ?” He muttered, heavily breathing. She was about to ask if he was okay but the words stayed stuck when she realized how close their faces were. He wasn’t hurt, no, he was perturbed by her presence. He could smell her perfume and see the hair raising on her neck. Whatever he was feeling, she felt it too.

“Do I make you nervous, soldier ?” She said, a smile building on her full lips.

“You have no idea, doctor”

She turned to face him. They locked eyes and, for a moment, none of them moved. The atmosphere instantly changed when he bit his lips. He bent closer and closer, and this time she didn’t push back. When finally he kissed her, she froze in place. He was about to draw back when she grabbed his neck, deepening the kiss. A sensation she couldn’t comprehend took over her whole body. He didn’t rush, took his sweet time lingering his lips over hers. She could swore her knees would have given out if he wasn’t holding her in place. Her chest was fluttering and she lost all sense of time. He pulled back from the lack of oxygen, but not before caressing her mouth one last time.

“Too much?” He inquired quietly.

She shook her head, laughing. “No. Just enough”

“I’ve been dreaming of doing that for a while” He admitted.

“Quite the change of attitude. I could’ve sworn you wanted me dead only ten minutes ago” She joked.

He pouted, not particularly happy she was reminding him of his previous outburst.

“You’re all set up, Winter” She announced after one last look over his chest. “No major damage”

“Have you checked my heart ?” He joked with a smirk. “I think it’s beating a little fast”

She coughed to try and hide her laugh.

“I’m afraid that’s not fixable” She started to write her report, ignoring his lingering gaze on her. Her brain was still fuzzy from the kiss they shared. “Unless I stay away, which would probably ease your … discomfort”

“Who said anything about discomfort ? That’s a kind of pain I’d rather enjoy”

She raised an eyebrow, not missing the way her own heart palpitated.

“Don’t play with fire, soldier”

He smirked. “Between us, I’m trying to delay the moment I’ll have to go through that door again”

This time she lost all joy and raised her head from what she was writing on her report to look at him.

“You’re strong enough to leave this place, you know”

“Leave where ?” He asked.

“Somewhere you’ll find who you really are”

“Does that somewhere include you ? ‘Cause you should know I won’t go without you”

She walked up to him and took his hands.

“Save yourself while you still can, Winter” She sadly replied.

“What about you ?”

“I’m just … collateral damage” She exhaled.

He gently pressed his forehead to hers.

“I promise I’ll come back for you after that last mission”

“I’ll hold you onto that”

He planted a soft kiss on her lips, making her forget once again where they were and what their reality was.

“I’ll take you to Greece” He whispered. “Just the two of us. Wouldn’t that be great ?”

“It’s a date” She grinned, making him laugh.

“You’ve got yourself a deal. We’ll get out of here” He swore. “And I’ll take you dancing under the stars of Mykonos”

He didn’t know then that he would never have the occasion to keep that promise. They would have more moments, stolen from the chaos of this place, but nothing more. Weeks later, he would hear rumors about treason and compromising positions. He would understand too late they meant her. She was his weak point, and the Winter Soldier couldn’t have any weaknesses. She was disposable, he was an assassin with superpowers. All the recordings they had proved he no longer could be operational so long as she was still breathing.

“Buck, you alright ?” A voice suddenly spoke in the agonizing silence.

He turned around to his friend, brushing the tears he didn’t realize had started to fall. Standing in the empty room, he couldn’t move away from the dried patch of blood on the floor.

“Yeah, I just need a minute” He shook his head, trying to make the painful memories disappear.

The man behind him began to inspect the place, searching through scattered papers around a desk.

“Dr. Y/N Y/L/N” He read.

Bucky closed his eyes, clenching his jaw. The simple sound of her name was enough to widen the open wound inside his chest. He sat on the examination table one last time, without her. Forgetting he wasn’t alone, he let himself wander into his most precious memories. He remembered the taste of her lips, the smell of her perfume and the touch of her skin. Every detail engraved in his head forever.

“Did you know her ?” The person asked.

“Yeah”

The man stopped what he was doing and observed the former assassin for a solid minute. He looked heartbroken.

“Bad memories ?” He inquired.

“Not in this room” Bucky sadly smiled.

“What happened ?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Steve”

The Captain hesitated for a moment but didn’t push. He was aware his friend was still healing and whatever the place was, it was part of his pain.

“Is she dead ?” He only questioned.

He gulped and tilted his head backward to keep the tears at bay. “They took her away from me” His voice cracked when he spoke. He was not able to stop the violent sob that escaped his mouth. He wanted to say so much more but the lump in his throat was far too heavy.

“I was too late,” He whispered. “I promised I’d come back for her but I was … too …”

His shoulders started to shake as tears ran down his bloodshot eyes. Steve rapidly closed the distance between them and hugged his friend, letting him express his sadness. They stayed there until he was calm enough to take a deep breath.

“You ready ?” The Captain inquired.

The broken soldier silently nodded.

“Where to now ?” Steve asked him. “You’re free to go anywhere you'd like”

“Greece. I have a date in Greece”

Taglist below the cut

@partypoisonsblog - @tylard-blog1

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #the winter solider x reader #the winter soldier imagine #the winter soldier imagines #the winter soldier fanfiction #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier imagine #winter soldier imagines #winter soldier fanfiction #tfatws #fatws

[mllekurtz]

My dearest @dawl-and-dapple gave me the prompt “laying awake at night, wishing your lover was next to you” for Shadowgast. Thanks for the prompt, friend, and thanks @kmackatie for making sure this was readable 💜

This is a continuation to this ficlet and this one, and YES, THIS IS THE ONE WHERE THEY KISS.

Shadowgast, post-canon, 1k words, no CWs

His friends drift off to sleep one by one, either in their beds (the sensible ones) or in a cozy nest of blankets in front of the fireplace (the ones who could or would not resist Jester’s suggestion that they have a sleepover).

As he steps out of the tower for a breath of fresh air, Essek thinks that, as much as he loves these people, sometimes he enjoys them more when they’re asleep.

And yet, as he spreads his cloak on the grass outside the temple of the Wildmother and lies down on it, casting the insects and the dirt and the grass stains out of his mind, as he lies down and his eyes trace familiar patterns among the stars, something’s missing.

The feeling is even more familiar than the constellations, and he’s used to carrying it around with him like precious cargo, a well-known weight in his ribcage. Even today, when by logic he shouldn’t have felt it, it was still there: a premonition, maybe, an advance payment to the absence waiting for him once his and Caleb’s paths will diverge again, until their next meeting.

If there is a next meeting.

At first he thinks the steps are a figment of his imagination, but the yawn can’t be. He doesn’t move, just waits for Caleb to spot him and join him, as he knows he will.

Even his trained, sensitive ears can barely hear him approach, barefoot on the grass. “Looking for a quiet spot?”

“Everywhere is a quiet spot around here,” Essek replies, even as his heart leaps. “That's what I like about graveyards. Who betrayed me?”

There’s enough room on the cloak that he doesn’t have to scoot when Caleb lies down next to him, leaving a hand’s breadth between them. “Ah, that would be Gretchen.”

Good cat, Essek thinks.

Much unlike Essek’s thoughts, the silence is easy and uncomplicated. His mind is going through everything that happened at dinner and after that. He remembers how Caleb’s hands looked on his spellbook and how they felt on his skin. He remembers touching and holding and groaning when they were interrupted before they could…

“Sometimes I struggle to accept that this is real.”

When he turns his head towards him, Essek can see Caleb’s profile perfectly. It’s etched in his memory, too.

“I know there’s a long way ahead of me. There’s so much I still want to accomplish, but I already have so much. I have… this sense of urgency, sometimes. Pointless, but strong, like I’ve forgotten something.”

Essek hums. His anxiety is fuelled by more concrete threats, but he understands. Of course he does. “It’s not easy to adjust to an ordinary life when you’ve never known one, Caleb.”

When Caleb turns his head, their eyes meet. The night is clear but moonless, and Caleb can’t see the yearning in Essek’s eyes. Surely he can’t. “Would you even settle for it?”

“I don’t think it’s in my cards.”

“But say it was, even for a small amount of time.” Caleb props himself up on an elbow. The question is deceptively easy, which makes Essek suspect Caleb is asking something else entirely. “A humble, boring life, with nothing more exciting in it than a parent-teacher conference. Would you take it?”

Even though Caleb can’t see him very well, Essek is sure his eye roll can be heard in his tone. “A quiet, peaceful life, where nobody wants me dead? How awful.”

He feels gratified when Caleb chuckles. Making him laugh makes Essek feel like he’s won something priceless, every time. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I think some parents want me dead.”

Essek stares at him in silence for a moment. Between Caleb and the sky, he doesn’t know which one is more unreachable. “I would like to see them try,” he says, allowing himself a smile when Caleb laughs again.

The silence that settles over them next is so heavy with anticipation that reality seems to crack under its weight.

Since he’s a coward, and he can’t resist the temptation to self-sabotage, Essek wets his lips and says, “You should rest, or I’ll have to Teleport you to Rexxentrum tomorrow.”

“Would that be bad?” Before Essek can react, Caleb has taken his hand, and in doing so has leaned so close that a lock of his hair tickles Essek’s cheek. “Come with me.”

Essek closes his eyes and inhales as if he had just received a blow. Meanwhile his fingers close on Caleb’s hand on their own, as if it were their purpose.

“Come with me,” Caleb insists, bringing Essek’s hand to his lips. Essek opens his eyes, and the sight of him is just as devastating as he thought it’d be. “It’s been long enough, and we’ll be careful. It doesn’t have to be forever. You can leave whenever you want, just… let’s try.”

Essek waits for him to be done before whispering, “Yes, alright.”

Caleb stills. He’s probably trying to see if Essek is joking (as if he would joke about this), or allowing himself to believe he’s just said yes (as if Essek wasn’t doing the same).

Essek exhales with a small, breathless laugh. “Honestly, I was just waiting for you to ask.”

It’s embarrassing to admit, but he has spent so much time wondering how it would feel like to kiss Caleb that it’s become a quiet, constant thought, occasionally coming to the forefront but otherwise just there, a soothing twin to the ache of Caleb’s absence.

When it actually happens, it feels inevitable. One moment Caleb is looking at him and murmuring something that sounds like “You idiot” in Zemnian, the next he lets go of Essek’s hand in favour of taking his face in his palms and leaning down until their foreheads are pressed together.

Essek doesn’t know who moves first; his hands are on the back of Caleb’s neck, fingers carding through his hair, and Caleb doesn’t put up any resistance when Essek pulls him closer.

His lips part almost immediately — so much for his modesty, finally, finally — and he pulls Caleb even closer as his tongue slips into his mouth, hungry and eager, as if trying to make up for lost time.

No, not lost. If years of dancing around each other, and sometimes with each other, is what it took to bring them here, together, on the threshold of a hopeful future, Essek will take it. And he wouldn’t change a thing.

#and SCENE #thanks for following what definitely didn't start as a three-parter but. here we are #critical role #shadowgast #cr fic #my fics