#em is the most caring empathetic understanding person i’ve ever met

[snzluv3r]

Is it hard dating that isn’t chronically ill? I am another chronically ill person and I’m scared to date someone that isn’t chronically ill because they won’t understand my pain and make me feel bad about it (I’ve had a lot of trauma with it in the past). Just wondering if it’s possible to do and how you and your partner navigate it?

honestly, yes it’s so hard, but only in the sense that i constantly feel like im holding her back or disappointing her. it’s so hard being sick all the time and not knowing when or if im going to be well enough to take her on an actual date or all the other things that my illnesses get in the way of, but she’s the first person i’ve ever known to never ever validate that guilt by making me feel bad for things out of my control.

she always lets me know i don’t have to apologize for bailing last minute or spending our only weekend together sick and in bed asleep for half the time because she knows it’s not something i’ve chosen. i’m so used to people making me feel like im just being lazy and choosing to not participate in things and am purposefully letting people down, especially in romantic relationships with non-chronically ill people, so i totally get the fear and it’s so valid. if you ever wanna talk more in depth my dms are always always open, i hope this made sense

[gallawitchxx]

ficlet friday 🖤🔮

part two of tarot reader!mickey & psych student!ian. had to give those boys a date... read part one here or the whole thing on a03.

- - - - -

“So you, uh, learn anything neat in that book?” Mickey asked, lifting the beer Ian had brought him to his lips in a way that was designed to get Ian to look at them. “While you were waitin’?”

Mickey’s last appointment of the day was also his most difficult. As hard as he tried to focus on the cards in front of him, his mind kept wandering to the door. To the couch that sat in the shop lobby and freckled fingers flipping through satiny pages.

He typically ran the show during his readings. Over time, he’d cultivated a way of walking the fine line between frank and empathetic. Clients came to him for his no bullshit delivery and because he understands the fragile nature of the space he’s tasked with holding. What folks are really putting in his hands when they take a seat in the armchair across from him and unwittingly send their energies his way.

He’d have to make it up to Karen on the next one.

“Yeah, actually,” Ian answered, eyes glued to the pink of Mickey’s tongue dipping inside the neck of the bottle as he took a drink. He forced himself not to look at the movements of his Adam’s apple as Mickey swallowed. “Apparently, if you write an amount of money down on a dried Bay Leaf, your wish will come true. What do you know about that?”

“Well, knowin’ and doin’ are two different things,” Mickey said with a grin. “Personally, I ain’t ever seen foliage cure systemic poverty, so not really my style, but—different strokes, man.”

Ian thumbed at his own beer, where the label had begun to peel. “What is your style?”

“What you didn’t get enough today?”

“I’ve always been the kind of guy who needs to do things more than once to really get it, you know?” He said with a shrug.

There were questions and answers in the looks that followed, stories swapped silently between two pairs of sparkling eyes.

“Fuck Gallagher, you better watch yourself,” Mickey said, leaning back in his seat, spreading his legs just a bit and biting the corner of his lip. “A guy could get the wrong idea about you.”

Ian smiled. Warm, open. Disarming.

“Think you already know enough about me to form your own opinion.”

Mickey nodded, taking another sip of his drink. Apparently, he was making quite a few exceptions today, as he didn’t exactly make a habit of going out with clients after reading for them. Aside from it being wildly unprofessional, he didn’t know what to do with the intimate information shared outside of the confines of the shop’s back room.

But here they were. Sitting across from each other at a very different kind of table, one where they both held cards. In their hands, on their sleeves. To lay down or withhold as they wished.

“Yeah, I, uh—I appreciate you tellin’ me all that stuff earlier. Didn’t have to do that. I’d already given up the goose without all the details.”

“‘Course. I mean, it kind of just happened,” he said with a chuckle. “Did I plan on it? No… But do I regret it?”—Mickey’s eyes met Ian’s—“Also no.”

“So’s that why you’re taking that psych shit? With Mandy?”

“Yes and no,” Ian answered, tilting his head softly from one side to the other and pursing his lips. “Too early to say where it’ll lead, but eventually I would like to be able to help out kids like me. Or worse. Who don’t have anyone when they’re diagnosed. Get ‘em through those first hard steps. There’s so much shitty care out there, it’s unbelievable.”

“Man, don’t I know it,” Mickey offered, blowing out a breath. “There’s a fuck ton of grifters playin’ my game too, and besides that crap bein’ a surefire way to royally mess with your karma, it’s takin’ advantage of people. Ain’t right.”

“I’d do it different,” Ian said, his demeanor growing serious. “Explain it in a way that doesn’t make it seem so scary. Come at it from a place of having gone through it myself and try to just…be there.” He threw Mickey a soft smile. “Like you do.”

Mickey flushed. Embarrassed. “Yeah, well, they say don’t go to a witch who doesn’t also have a witch…”

“Oh, they say that, do they?” Ian played.

“Yeah, asshole,” Mickey volleyed. “They do.” He took another drink, clocking that he was nearing the end of the bottle and Ian’s was still nearly full. He pressed on. “So, one reading and I made a believer outta you, huh?”

“I’m not saying that exactly, just… There are similarities. What you do and all. Except that when I hear voices in my head, I have to call my doctor. Get shit adjusted.”

There was a glimmer of something deeper there—slippery—but it was said with such ease. Mickey ached to touch him.

“Kinda think there’s room for all. Magic and Medicine,” he said, thumbing at his eyebrow and tapping at the table. Keeping his hands busy. “I’d never tell a client to go off their meds or stop seein’ a doctor—that would be fuckin’ irresponsible. But, it’s not everyone’s bag to see a shrink. I provide a service, a tailored service. It ain’t one size fits all, and just ‘cause I didn’t waste my precious time and money gettin’ some whack degree don’t mean I don’t help people.”

Ian looked down, sheepishly, his hands coming up in lighthearted defense. “I don’t doubt that for a second, Mickey. You already helped me.”

Mickey felt the same rush as when he first looked at that Five of Swords from the bottom of the deck.

Don’t miss what’s right in front of you.

“Yeah, yeah, drink your beer,” he said with a roll of his eyes, trying to mask the blush spreading across his cheeks.

“Shit, you’re almost done with yours. Want another?”

“Naw, man. It’s cool, I can wait for you to—Unless you don’t want—“

“Oh, I want,” Ian reassured. “Just taking it slow.”

The sentiment was dripping with so much meaning it had Mickey’s head swirling again. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to ask—

“So how’d you get into all of this?” Ian asked, quickly changing the subject. His voice was lively. Interested. “Couldn’t imagine anyone from the neighborhood being into this kinda thing.”

Mickey huffed. “No shit, I’d be fuckin’ dead as a doornail if my pops was still alive. Thought being a “pole smokin’ queer” was bad enough.” He looked up, so Ian would know that he meant to reveal himself. Test the waters. Extend a bit too after all that Ian had shared. “I dunno, man. Always kinda just knew shit? Like the thoughts were just there? They call it bein’ ‘Claircognizant.’”

“Sounds official.”

“Just a big ass word for not bein’ able to explain myself,” he laughed. “Uh, Mandy actually had a deck of cards, hidden in her fuckin’ sock drawer, and I—I got my hands on it and it was like…lightning. Something clickin’ into place. Like all that stuff I knew could actually make sense if I just followed along.” Ian watched wonder dance across Mickey’s features, his eyes calm and almost pleased. Like he was floating away and into the memory itself. Then, he shook it away and returned back to the table. “I don’t understand all the ins and outs of the whole thing, but I’ve been doin’ this long enough to trust what pops into my head.”

“You have a gift,” Ian said with a wink. “I’m sure people see that.”

Mickey cocked his head. “Not gonna be turnin’ anyone into toads or anythin’. Some do come in lookin’ for a show, but like I said before—I’m a glorified translator.”

“I think you’re much more than that, Mickey.”

“Yeah, well, forgive me if I don’t think your review’s exactly unbiased, Gallagher.”

Ian’s face srunched. Cute. “It’s true though. You’re clearly very good at what you do.”

“Shit’s rough, man. We all need a little insight. I just try to… explain it in a way that doesn’t make it seem so scary. Come at it from a place of having gone through it myself or whatever.”

Mickey fidgeted, hoping that Ian would hear his words repeated back to him and know what they meant. That he’d be able to read between the lines and maybe even read Mickey.

“I’m really glad I decided to come in today,” Ian said, a bit breathless. “Almost didn’t.”

“Woulda been a fuckin’ shame if you hadn't," Mickey said, and meant.

They talked some more as Ian slowly finished his beer—Mickey about opening the shop and how fucked it was to get the government involved in anything, let alone magical care, and Ian about school and his part-time job at the research library on campus. It was simple between them, the tendrils of all they’d shared creating a quilted foundation upon which to build.

When Ian stood to grab their empty bottles, Mickey was suddenly and inexplicably overwhelmed by the need to kiss him. To catch his perfect bottom lip in his teeth and pull it into his mouth. To taste him, consume him—be consumed by him.

He slid out of the booth, coming to standing in front of him, their chests brushing slightly as Mickey caught his balance.

“I can grab the next round too, Mick, don't—“

“Can I kiss you?” Mickey asked, wholly unsure of himself and yet forward as fuck.

Ian’s face broke out in a warm grin, white teeth flashing and green eyes glittering. He set the bottles back on the table and stepped in towards Mickey, one hand moving to hold the back of his head and the other resting on his neck.

“Would be a fucking shame if you didn’t,” he said, leaning down.

Mickey’s breath hitched as Ian’s soft lips landed on his. Sweet. The pressure fucking perfect.

Then, Ian opened his mouth to Mickey, slotting their lips together, their tongues meeting in a delicious slide of want and trust and something more. Fuck. Already. As if they’d known each other their entire lives. Today. Yesterday. Forever.

It felt like…lightning. Something clicking into place.

[zacc-attacc]

Firstly - I really love good puns, so your username made my day xD

Then, for your request thing - would you maybe write a Sprace OneShot that plays in the canon era? Maybe some sort of friends-to-lovers thing?

Thanks :)

First of all, thank you for the request! And for the compliment, of course.

ANYWAYS, HISTORICAL SPRACE, HERE WE GO BABS.

Sweet-Talker- A Historical Sprace Fic

Word Count: 2k

I wasn’t supposed to fall in love. Period. Especially with a boy. I was Spot Conlon, the King of Brooklyn. Not some blithering idiot who brings flowers to some idiot boy halfway across New York. I had made a pledge, not only to myself but to the others. I was responsible for them. 

So why was I falling for a stupid blond Manhattan boy with an addiction to soggy cigars?

I still remember the first time I saw him-- on a pape I was selling to a regular buyer. It was just a black and white picture, which hardly did any justice to how handsome he was in color. But even among 20 or so other newsboys, I felt a flutter in my stomach when I looked into his eyes. 

Disgusting, I thought as I sold the paper. Is this what the boys were talking about? Sparks flying and all that sappy shit?

If I had been smart, I would’ve sold all my papes and kept my distance from the strike. From Cigar Boy. 

Brooklyn don’t get caught up in things that ain’t our deal, I reminded myself. 

But Race, as I learned later, tends to bring out the worst in me. So I did the dumb thing. I sold all but one of my papes (I couldn’t bring myself to just… Give him away like that. For what? A penny?) and ran to Manhattan. 

Where it was a full-blown war. Pulitzer had called in dozens of goons (but, of course, couldn’t be bothered to show up himself), an army of policemen, and the only cop the newsboys truly feared-- Snyder. The only man who had succeeded in locking up the two most resilient Newsies of New York- Jack Kelly, and yours truly. 

I watched in horror as bottles were thrown, teenage boys were hit by adults, even a smaller boy who needed a crutch to walk was beaten with his own crutch. And I knew I couldn’t do the smart thing, the Brooklyn thing ever again. Not for this.

I ran to join my brethren, letting myself give in to the adrenaline of a battle. Luckily for me, most people were too lost in the chaos to notice me. 

All except for one. 

As cops ran, chasing boys as if they were prey that they would likely never catch, who other than Cigar Boy walked over to me, spitting blood out of his mouth and extending his hand for a handshake. 

“Well, well, well, to whats do we owe the pleasure of Spot Conlon of Brooklyn?” He said, giving me a tired grin. He didn’t have a cigar between his lips, but he did have one sticking out of his pocket. I shook his hand, noticing that even after he had literally been beaten up for an hour plus, his handshake was firm. 

“Okay there, Sluggo, we’ll talk when you ain’t bleeding from the head,” I said gruffly, turning and starting to walk back towards Brooklyn. If I could convince the boys, we could come back later and tell Manhattan we were joining the strike. 

“The lodge is this was,” the boy pointed to the opposite direction of where I was heading. I gave a light laugh. 

“No, no. I’s best get goin’ so you’s can patch up.” 

“There ain’t no way I’s letting you walk halfway across New York after getting beaten up,” the boy protested, grabbing my arm and pulling me towards the lodge. 

“I’ve been through worse,” I protested, attempting to dislodge my arm from his grasp. 

“Well, ya’int goin’ through that again. Now c’mon. We has some bandages back at the lodge for that cut of yours,” he said, gesturing to the deep cut in my upper arm. I sighed in defeat and started walking. 

“Just so you know… This is just to make sure yous don’t pass out in the streets on the way there,” I clarified. The boy just rolled his eyes and chuckled. 

“For New York’s most feared Newsie, you sure is worried about someone you just met today.”

“I’m feared, but I an’t heartless, sweet-talker. I don’t want another life on my conscience.” Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. What kind of monster did he think I was? Race stopped walking. I looked up and saw a complex setup of fire escapes, rails, and a rooftop where a newsboy who could only be Jack Kelly was pacing.

“Fair enough. Well, we’s here… So I’s just gonna swing up, grab my stuff, I can meet you down here,” the boy said, grabbing onto some rungs of a fire escape and climbing up with surprising nimbleness. It was as if the battle had barely affected him. That, or he was still riding the adrenaline rush. 

“No, no. Take care of your boys. I won’t die,” I said, hearing the panic in my tone. If Jack saw me with no reinforcements, he’d start to think we were fully on board. And if Brooklyn wasn’t, and word got around that I had already fought… It wouldn’t be good. They would accuse me of being a traitor. I couldn’t risk that.

“Ey, no, that wasn’t part of our agreement!” he yelled as I walked away. I could hear the smile in his voice.

“Next time, have me shake on it, sweet-talker!” I shouted back, turning around to see his impish grin. My muscles were screaming in protest from overuse, but I had to get home before dark. 

“The name’s Racetrack Higgins!” was the last I heard before breaking into a sprint. 

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

And here we are now. Strike over, prices back, nobody dead, everyone happy.

Except for me. 

Because I wasn’t supposed to fall in love, but here it came. Striding down the hill with a cigar in its mouth.

I could feel the unease in the boys beside me. We weren’t used to soloing Newsboys in our area, barely after selling hours, no less. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll handle it,” I muttered to them, walking towards Race. 

“What. Are. You. Doing. Here,” I hissed, grabbing his shoulders and fake-shoving him to look like I was giving him a serious talking-to. He couldn’t know we knew each other. It had to look like we were fighting.

“Well, Conlon, I thought we’d had a moment there,” Race whisper-shouted back, shoving me as well. I lowered my voice to an even quieter tone. 

“Meet me in your alleyway after sundown.”

He looked at me, confusion on his face, but nodded numbly and ran away. 

I heaved a sigh and turned to go spin some fake tale about why he was there.

That boy is going to be the death of me.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

“Why’d you chase me out like that, Conlon?” Race asked, leaning against the brick wall of the Newsboy lodge. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. 

I hated it. 

“Because, Higgins, the boys don’t like strange Manhattan Newsies on our turf,” I half-spat. How stupid could he get? Didn’t he understand what was at stake here?

“You’re mad at me,” he said, his eyes flashing with realization. 

“Yeah, no shit,” I muttered, starting to pace. This was a bad idea. Why did I keep letting myself come back to him? Why was I constantly subjecting myself to the one thing I couldn’t have?

“Why? I just wanted to see you again,” he protested, walking towards me. I turned around to face him, my nose practically touching his chin.

“‘Cause we ain’t supposed to be friends. The boys see you hangin’ around Brooklyn, they’ll think yous tryin’ to prove something. And you know what they do to boys that ain’t ours? They beat ‘em up. Then, they bring them to me. And I decide if they’s gets a real pounding. But do I have a choice? No! Once they’s decides yous getting beat, my say hardly matters. If I randomly tell them to let someone go, I’m considered soft. Then we both get beat. Do you see what they’ve done to some boys? I ain’t letting that happen to you, Race! I’m not patching up your wounds because I couldn’t control-”

“Spot.,” Race cut me off. I froze. It was the first time he had used my full name. 

“What?” I asked bitterly. I noticed my eyes were burning. Why were they burning? What was this hellish sensation?

I felt something warm trickle down my face. 

Oh. My. God. I was crying. Crying! I hadn’t cried in four years! All about some idiot boy who had lovely eyes and blond hair and was empathetic and made me genuinely laugh and feel safe for the first time in years-

Race stepped forward, crushing the distance between us in one stride (damn tall people), and then… Hugged me. 

I hadn’t been really hugged in seven years, since I had made it to Brooklyn. Well, I had received bro hugs. Light ‘ey, whaddup’ hugs. But this… This was the type of hug that I hadn’t received since my parents had died. The type of hug that shields you from the outside world, that makes you feel like an atomic bomb could go off and they could protect you from it. 

It was so strange, so human. I hadn’t been treated like a real person for so long.

“It’s really like that, huh,” Race whispered, stroking my back. I felt goosebumps appear on my skin. How much feeling had I forced myself to miss out on? 

“It’s just… A lot. I mean… I’ve always known I would give my life for those boys, they’re my everything. But… I don’t know if they would for me. I don’t even know how much they truly respect me. I can’t even say if they’d respect this new rule I’ve been thinking of putting in place,” I said, not moving from my place in Race’s grasp. 

“And what would that be?” Race muttered, rocking back and forth. It was… nice. 

“No beating up on Racetrack Higgins ‘cause he deserves the world,” I said, my voice still muffled in his shirt. He chuckled. 

“I hardly deserve the world… But… Could I have you?” there was this caution in his voice, so different from the constant suave tone he took on while talking with me. But, then again, I of all people was sobbing into a boy’s chest, so this night turned out to be the night of all the unthinkable. 

“I don’t know if that’s what you really want, but… You can have me, sweet-talker,” I said, tipping up my head and meeting his lips in a kiss. 

It wasn’t sudden, or brash like most would’ve thought our first kiss would be like. No, it was slow and sweet. Because even if our relationship was loud and chaotic, we could take pieces of it as slow as we wanted. 

And now, I can say that my sweet-talkers lips are just as sweet as his words.

A/N: Thank y’all so much for reading! if you have any sort of prompts, pop on over to my asks! Love y’all! <3 

[deeeelightfuldee]

surveys 050.

x1 When are you likely to lie? If it is a surprise. 

x2 Do you say what you mean, and mean what you say? almost always other than in the above circumstance.

x3 What is a personality type that you do not like? confrontational, entitled, argumentative, angered, aggressive

x4 What is a personality type that you DO like? KINDNESS, genuine, honest, warm, loyal, fun-loving, caring

x5 Which of your friends is the least like you? In what way? meg. She is veryyy promiscuous and flirts with danger in pretty much every way imagineable. Drinking, drugs, trips with guys she hasn’t met, sleeping with people she hardly knows their names, etc.

x6 How about the most like you? In what way? umm, I guess I don’t know. my friends are loud when I’m soft. They’re funny when I’m not. I’m patient and they’re impatient. I’m slow to react, theyre very reactive. 

x7 What is something you do daily? Is this a habit of yours? feed benny. yes.

x8 What was the last thing to frustrate you? Is it still, now? hmm, I guess being talked down to today. it was brief and there were semi-apologies, so nah. It’s not bugging me now.

x9 Do you let other peoples' troubles bring you down? I very much consider myself empathetic. I try very hard to not be consumed by someone else’s woes unless the situation calls for it.

x1o When was the last time you felt under-appreciated? oof. often.

x11 Does anyone take advantage of you or take you for granted? YEPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP.

x12 Are you taking anyone for granted? I’m sure there are ways I am, but I try not to.

x13 What is one selfish thing that you do? I used to tell people “hey, I need some attention” (mostly .. actually I think only with Kile) 

x14 How about something selfless? I have loved someone enough to let them go and love someone else despite how that kills me. If I love them enough, I want them to be happy. even if that means it’s without me

x15 If it were to snow right now, would that be unusual? It would be. It’s July. Snow is not at all a likelihood in such hot weather.

x16 What do you like to do on your favorite holiday? ooo goodness. I just love slowing down and taking moments to burn the memory into my brain. Stop and really think about the smells, the sounds, the people, the traditions, the sights, the weather, etc. It just fills my cup. 

x17 What helps you fall asleep? playing serendipity. Otherwise I forsure have nightmares about losing kile.

x18 When you are nervous about something, what do you do? my legs quiver. my hands on occasion. Sometimes my jaw gets tingly. 

x19 Have you ever been near death? How was this experience? Yes. Once as a child I had a really severe illness and was hospitalized for a long time. Another time I was in a bad accident and went through the windshield (again as a child). I’ve been very sick as an adult but not to the point of death. I have had someone plan to kill me. that was probably my closest brush with death I suppose.

x2o What is something you understand very well? umm, neuroscience. Sudoku. humor. 

x21 How do you feel about friendship in general? Its an interesting thing. Em and nathan are life-rs. We are connected for life. However, I felt closest to my kile. I just felt like I belonged with him. but without him I feel so empty. I don’t like that part of friendship.

x22 Is there anyone you wish you were still friends with now? I mean I think it’s obvious. 

x23 Which friendship have you maintained the longest? Are you two close? em. we are

x24 What do you do to help yourself "move on" from things? ummm, you should probably ask me this in a few months when I’ve learned how to do such a thing. the only thing I know is it is a process where you wake up every day and muster up courage to exist another 24 hours. eventually when it’s bedtime, you collapse into a pool of tears and pray for courage to sleep. then you wake up and repeat the process until it gets easier and easier. I have no recipe for moving on.

x25 What is a scent that reminds you of someone? jimmy choo man reminds me of dustin and liza.

x26 Is there an image/memory you wish you could forget? oh my goodness, yes. But it wouldn’t do me any good.

x27 Do you think it is possible to live without regret? Why or why not? I think yes. I think we can recognize that those moments helped to shape us into the people we are today. Things happen for a reason.

x28 Do you think that you are headed in the right direction? Right now I’m without much direction, but I do think I’m where God is calling me to be. 

x29 If you have a religion, do you think it's the only "right" one? My faith is what I genuinely believe is true.

x3o Have you met anyone else who challenged that belief? of course people want to challenge it 

x31 What is the hardest part about writing a paper, for you? ugh, decent intro/conclusion. The meat and potatoes parts are my fave. I love the editing. But the intros and conclusions I dread. 

x32 How often do you doubt yourself? Has this helped or hindered you? I never did before. I do find myself starting to doubt things since stuff happened with kile. I doubt my looks, my ability to find someone, my future, my awareness of those around me, my intelligence, my value towards someone else. I know I have a lot to offer, but I now doubt whether anyone wants what I have to offer.

x33 What is a fear you want to overcome? putting myself back out there.

x34 What is something you do not like about yourself, with good reason? the fact that I am enormous. It’s not that I cant appreciate body positivity, it’s that I think I am found unattractive. 

x35 Do you do anything harmful? Like what? Generally no. I’ve had thoughts of things but never acted on anything.

[khunvegas]

Stucky Feels!

I’ve always shipped them but it’s recently that I’ve been reading fics in this fandom and they are amazing. This is my collection of amazingness in words. My Stucky fanfic rec.

6:13 AM by @halerogers​

It was routine, getting on the train that early in the morning, and Steve had it down to a damn tee. It was tiring, waking up that early to catch a train to work, but it wasn't so bad.

Especially not after he started showing up.

He was the man with murder eyes and shockingly good looks despite the whole hobo vibe but with a soft center. Steve liked to call him the Human Impersonation of the Grumpy Cat in his head; Grumpy Cat for short when he whined about him to either Natasha or Sam.

OR – in which Steve falls in love with a stranger.

A Christmas Game by @that-girl​

Bucky loses his pet mouse and yells at his very hot neighbour to keep his cat away from his baby. And Natasha regrets the day she met Bucky. It's a fluff fest.

An Accident of Time by Pickitup

Boys weren’t omegas. Not outside of blue movies, or bluer songs, at least, the kind of anecdotes too ribald even for soldiers to tell. Girls were omegas, sometimes, but rarely, even in those days. Dying breeds, he guessed. When he was the asset it had stopped entirely, he had thought it all over: feels sick thinking of what they would have done to exploit him if he had suffered back then. But now, 2014, eating three meals a day, sleeping regularly in a safe bed, the old ghost has come back.

Bite Your Tongue by Avaaricious

AKA the "I work at a department store and if you take out and unfold a shirt and then leave it one more time I'm going to stuff it down your throat" AU

Captain Fantastic and the Pineapple King by @bucky-fucky-barnes

Shit. She hadn't noticed him yet. Maybe he could turn and leave without them noticing – Sam would understand. Sam was the most empathetic person he knew. He wouldn’t scold Steve for coming home spice-less to avoid an awkward encounter with an ex. Surely. They drew closer Fuck Please don't notice me, please don't notice me, please don't notice me... "Steve?" Fuck. In which Steve is saved from his ex in a grocery store, Bucky Barnes is Way Too Chill about absolutely everything, and Sam has had enough of all of these goddamn pineapples in his fucking house. Or: The five times Steve received a pineapple (and one Piña Colada) and the one time he didn't

Come On, Leave Me Breathless by @emphasisonem​

“Shit, I don’t want to talk to him,” Bucky huffs, running a hand through his hair and blurting out the first idea that comes to mind, “I really- would you make out with me real quick?”

“What?” the blond bleats, blue eyes wide as he stares at Bucky.

In which Bucky really doesn't want to talk to his ex and enlists the help of an attractive stranger to avoid him.

Cool Beans by @emphasisonem​

“Guy looks a little like a hobo,” Pietro smirks, and a whoosh of breath leaves the young man as his sister elbows him in the stomach.

“Be kind,” Wanda admonishes him. “He’s very handsome, Steve. He looks strong.”

“Don’t be gettin’ any ideas there, Wanda,” Steve smiles at his friend. “I’m doing just fine on my own. I have the shop to think about. I don’t need any romantic entanglements right now.”

“We’ll see,” Wanda’s lips turn up at the corners, and Steve can’t help but laugh at the mischief sparkling in her eyes.

In which Steve owns a coffee shop and Bucky is a carpenter who buys the property next door.

Did you really just ask....? by Kare

"I just want to sit on the couch with you, watch bad action movies, eat greasy pizza and marry you. Is that really that much to ask?"

Steve can deal with the first three wishes. He isn't really sure if he heard the fourth one correctly...

Well, only one way to find out... maybe...

Enjoy the Silence by neversaydie

Silence used to be peaceful for Bucky. These days it makes him feel like he's waiting for something, like he's listening for the warning sounds of predators approaching.

Now silence means he's waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He lives in a beautiful apartment with his husband-to-be and tells himself that everything is just fine. He doesn't sleep, he's scared of putting a foot wrong in case Brock snaps again, and he's desperately lonely, but he has everything he ever wants and that should be enough. It's not like he can complain about being taken care of, even if parts of it aren't exactly his choice.

Running into his childhood friend (literally) just might change everything. 'Just fine' doesn't seem like enough once Steve walks back into his life. The problem is, Bucky's been stuck in his cage for so long that he's not sure he can leave it on his own.

Filthy Things You Say by Limoncello_Bella

Bucky wanted to kiss him, kiss him and then press him against the wall or desk and do things to him that would leave them both as a pile of sexually sated human mush. Mentally, he swore, he didn’t even have a type, but spitfire twinks more stubborn than a mule were quickly becoming number one on the nonexistent list.

Or.

Steve is a cuddle-slut drunk and his latest victim is one Bucky Barnes.

For Who I've Not Yet Become by @thebestpersonherelovesbucky

Bucky Barnes -- powerful Wall Street tycoon -- has everything he needs. Money, good looks, a life in the fast lane. He's living on top of the world in a Park Avenue Penthouse in Manhattan, is the youngest vice president ever over at Stark Industries and might even be named Forbes Man of the Year -- again. Nothing can bring him down.

That is until Bucky has a strange encounter with a young man named Eli on Christmas Eve and wakes up Christmas morning married to his old college sweetheart, Steve Rogers.

With his entire world turned upside down, Bucky must find a way to navigate his way through marriage and fatherhood and suburbia. And maybe find the unique answer to the age old question... What if...?

Heat Wave by HandsAcrossTheSea

Sometimes, you just have to let nature take its course.

Hey, Bartender, Pour ‘Em Hot Tonight by @emphasisonem​

Steve looks down and catches sight of a bright pink drink in a hurricane glass. Moisture is beaded on the outside, and the cool feel of it is nice on Steve’s sweaty hand as he picks up the monstrosity Sam has ordered for him.

“What the hell is this?” Steve asks, a disbelieving smile on his face. “You couldn’t just order me a beer?”

“You said to surprise you,” Sam smirks. “And you made me wait.”

“But what is it?” Steve repeats, and is answered by a deep, unfamiliar voice.

“It’s a Singapore Sling,” the man behind the bar is smiling. “Not what you were expecting?”

In which Bucky is a bartender and Steve is immediately smitten. He's not the only one.

Honestly, I Just Came Out To Have A Good Time by @youngavengersfeels​

The first time Steve met Bucky, Bucky was jumping into a pond only a smidge less polluted than the from The Simpsons, butt naked. Things could really only go up from there.

I Get Knocked Down (But I Get Up Again) by @emphasisonem​

“You sure you’re ok?” the blond asks, and Bucky really appreciates the fact that the guy isn’t laughing, considering his friend can’t seem to help snickering at Sam’s outrageous display.

“I’m fine,” Bucky huffs with a smirk. “Pride’s a little bruised, and I’m guessing I look like a fuckin’ drowned rat, but no permanent damage.”

A slow- and frankly, evil- smile makes its way across the blond’s lips. There’s a flicker of uncertainty in those blue eyes, but it’s replaced with a nearly-predatory look that gives Bucky goosebumps.

“Shame,” the other man teases Bucky. “I’m pretty good at kissin’ things better.”

In which Bucky Barnes is a show off at the beach and pays the price.

I Need Coffee in an I.V. by @emphasisonem​

Bucky points at the counter, pouting. “They took my coffee maker.”

Steve looks like he wants to laugh, but Bucky thinks he does an admirable job of biting it back.

“Good god, how ever will you survive?” Steve asks, and Bucky usually kind of adores that sassy mouth of Steve’s, but he doesn’t fuck around when it comes to his coffee.

In which the office coffee maker breaks and Bucky is forced to rely on the kindness of an unknown coworker.

Is It Pretending If I Already Want You? By @ohcaptainmycaptain1918

Based on prompt: Pretend Boyfriends AU where one of their families is always wondering why they're never in a relationship, so the other offers to pretend to be their boyfriend for some family event"

Basic Steps to Getting Yourself In a Pickle With Both Your Family and The Guy You've Secretly Crushed On For Five Years (A Guide):

STEP 1: After being perpetually single and constantly making up excuses to your family, give in and lie about having a boyfriend. STEP 2: Agree to bring said boyfriend to the family cottage for a week so he can be your date to your parents' wedding anniversary party. STEP 3: Panic. STEP 4: Say 'yes' when your best friend and closet crush - who you're convinced isn't interested in you that way in the least - offers to be your pretend boyfriend. STEP 5: Try your best not to fall in love with them during the trip. STEP 6: Fail miserably.

Kinda Like the Way He Dips by @uhtredthepagan

‘Jesus, Bucky, are you wearing a mesh tank top?’ ‘Like it?’ ‘You look ridiculous.’ ‘Excuse me, this was a serious part of my teenage angst, Nat. I wore these boots to school.’

Let your heart be light by @relenafanel

Bucky looks like he’s had a difficult month, what with the eviction notice and all, but that’s not the reason Steve gives for allowing him to stay on his couch.

“You have somewhere to go?” Steve questioned, crossing his arms and attempting to look casual, not like he was worried for Bucky. He stepped into the apartment, ignoring how bare it was.

Bucky paused and gave him an exasperated look. “I’m not completely hopeless.”

A fic spanning from mid-November to early-February.

Of Broken Dreams and Mended Hearts by @thebestpersonherelovesbucky

When the House of Barnes is left in massive debt after the death of George Barnes, their oldest son and heir, Bucky, is forced to sacrifice his own hopes and dreams by entering an arranged married to Steve Rogers. Steve seems kind enough, has a prominent job in the government, and was even voted Society's Best Catch. But the House Rogers is significantly higher in status than Bucky's family, which means Bucky is marrying up in Society, and marrying up doesn't only come with rewards, it also comes with certain...expectations and losses--some of which Bucky might be willing to do anything to avoid. And those opportunities might come his way.

Unless, of course, he actually starts falling in love with his new husband...

One Way Or Another by @chiyume​ @rogersxbarnesx​

When Steve volunteers to help Tony launch Stark Tech’s new Military Prosthetics Project, the last person he expects to see as he walks into the lab is the same guy who had him shoved up against a wall in the back of a club the weekend before.

Back then he had just been Steve Rogers; a civilian looking for a good time just like everyone. Here, he’s Captain America; hero, justice, and patriotism personified. Bucky, however, is still the flirtatious devil he had been back at the club, and he’s obviously not going to let something as trivial as Steve’s occupation get in the way of what he wants.

Patches of Memory by LokiNeedsHugs1031

What if soldiers hadn't shown up at Bucky's apartment while he was in hiding. What if Steve found him instead and no attack followed. Steve finally gets the chance to trigger Bucky's memories and they re-discover their romantic past.

Slide to Answer by @relenafanel

Note: a series that explain you how a stranger gives you relationships advice and then becomes your boyfriend.

Telluride by @captain-winterdaddy​

Bucky's mom refuses to believe that he has nobody to bring to their annual Christmas family vacation. She also refuses to believe that he's gay, which in turn leads Bucky to tell her some maybe untruthful things.

Shenanigans ensue.

The artist and his coffee shop muse by Little_Lottie (tfwatson)

“Umm…” Steve glances up to find the waiter standing there with a smirk and a raised eyebrow looking expectant and arguably more delicious than the pastry. “I didn’t order this." “No,” the man says through a huff of laughter. “But technically, you didn’t order the coffee either.”

"Huh?"

Opposite him, the man slides into the booth, light bouncing off his shirt and drenching his eyes with even more blue.

Steve’s eyes dart left and right, looking for whatever it is he’s missed.

The Proposal by @steves-winter-boobear​

Steve Rogers works as an executive assistant for his demon of a boss James Barnes, at Pierce Publishing. Everyone HATES working with James Barnes, the epitome of Satan himself in every way possible. But when his Visa for immigration is denied, James quickly hatches a plan and drags Steve into a plot to thwart the United States Government into thinking they are engaged to avoid deportation. Thus follows the weekend from your wildest imagination as boss and employee learn about themselves and what it means to be truly happy.

The Super-Dick of Freedom by raeganrolland

Short story of a slight misunderstanding, underwear that doesn't fit, and the gosh darn Super-Dick.

The Winter Soldier vs. Twitter (hashtag BuckRogers) by @galwednesday​

“Remember what I said about internet trolls?”

“Don’t feed the trolls.”

“Exactly. Did I not say the same thing to Barnes?” Tony asked rhetorically. “Were those not my exact words? I could have sworn they were, and yet.”

“Bucky’s feeding the trolls?”

“He’s throwing a goddamn seven-course troll banquet. Every time someone on Twitter asks if your relationship announcement is real, he replies. Colorfully.”

Steve opened his mouth to ask what “colorfully” meant, then caught the gleam in Tony’s eye and put two and two together. He blushed. Colorfully. “Oh.”

(Steve and Bucky announce their relationship in a very dignified press conference. Bucky then replies to every goddamn tweet asking him to confirm it with a different dirty euphemism. Things escalate from there.)

These American Dreams (ain’t no white picket fences left for me) by @kariye

In which Bucky has a house, a dog, an herb garden, and a serious case of insomnia. Welcome to Havensport, Indiana (population 8,294), where Tom’s Neighborhood Grocer stays open all night, little old ladies call the car shop to get their refrigerators repaired, and the heat of summer days and the length of summer nights can make you think that this perfect world will last forever.

Thirty-Eight Days and Counting by @thecommodoresquid​

It didn’t escape him that Steve shared his assumed last name. “Are you gonna be my cousin?” Bucky asked dully.

Steve frowned. “Husband, actually,” he said easily, holding up his left hand to show a typical golden band.

Bucky scowled and closed the door.

AKA An AU in which Bucky is put in the witness protection program and Steve is the agent hired to protect him/pretend to be his husband.

Three Men in a VW by Slenderlock

Steve steps back into the car and closes the door, lips still tingling.

“You don’t like blondes,” Bucky says.

Sam chokes.

Worth It by @lesserknownhero​

While debating on going through with an ill advised hook-up Bucky is caught by his best friend Natasha. Forced to lie about his whereabouts and nightly activities he invents a fake past with a handsome stranger. Little does he know that once the lies begin they will be hard to stop.

Steve is out alone trying to force himself to be social and failing miserably. The only bright spot in his disappointing evening is comes when he inadvertently eavesdrops on the hot guy next to him as he blatantly lies to his nosy friend. The entertainment takes a turn for the bizarre when suddenly he's pulled into the lies and is forced to play along.

Yours for the Taking by @cookie-book-took​

Bucky really should not have got in the car. He shouldn't of stolen the mystery case. He shouldn't of lied about it. He shouldn't of thought he could outsmart everyone. Bucky did all of the above and is firmly on Steve Roger's radar.

But it's exciting and his bland life needs excitement...what's the worse that can happen...