#i don't want to recover by any means but i'm too lazy to put any effort into restricting so i'll eat if i have to.

[cham0mileteacake]

what's good fuckers. i'm back. not forever. but. just to say i am.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddie-week.

All Hours

Day #1 - Prompt: Secret Relationship | Word Count: 1125 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Steve | Tags: Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, Good Uncle Wayne Munson, Steve & Wayne

Steve parks outside of the trailer park and walks in. Careful to avoid the streetlights and the corners where there are known yapping dogs.

He approaches Eddie's window on the back side of the new trailer, and moves to push open the screen, to let himself inside without waking up Eddie, or Wayne. He just hikes his foot up into the sill when he's startled. 

"We do have a front door, you know," comes the lazy drawl, and Steve nearly jumps out of his skin, heart hammering wildly in his chest. He tries to suck in a breath, gripping the edge of the window frame, finally looking over at Wayne as he sits on the back steps, cigarette burning between his fingers.

"I'm sorry," Steve says, taking a step back from the house, pulling the window closed, putting some distance between himself and the room where Eddie is surely sleeping.

Eddie sleeps all the time these days. The doctors swear it's just part of his healing process, the recovery, but Steve still worries. All the time. Everyday. It's impossible not to. Eddie's healed so slowly, after being so close to death, that Steve's terrified he'll never fully recover.

"C'mere, kid," Wayne says, and pats the step beside him. 

Steve goes, but is a little wary. Wayne and him haven't really spent that much time together, they were just ships passing in the night while Eddie was in the hospital. Each taking their turn, and then handing the baton off to the other.

Steve sits down, and folds his hands in his lap.

"I know you've been sneaking in and out of his window during all hours of the day and night, for, well, months now," Wayne says, just barely above a murmur. 

"I'm sorry. I just worry about him," Steve says, and that's the truth. Most of it, anyway. 

There have been a couple quick, tentative kisses, but that's it. Eddie isn't strong enough for anything else, definitely nothing as tawdry as Wayne seems to be implying. It's pretty innocent, this thing they've got going. 

Steve's snuck in a lot of windows in his lifetime, but none compare to crawling over the sill of Eddie's window, and onto the chair Eddie now leaves there to ease Steve's entrance. None have been as chaste as this either. Steve's never spent months pursuing someone, hell, loving someone, that he didn't win over.

Even Robin, he counts as a win. It's platonic love, for sure, but he worked his Harrington charm on her, and got her to love him.

"I know you worry, but we have a front door. You're welcome to use it. Day or night," Wayne says, low and almost too soft to hear, even in the still of the night.

"Oh," Steve says, like this hadn't been something he'd ever considered, and honestly, it hasn't been, "okay."

"Okay," Wayne agrees, and he digs in his shirt pocket and fishes out a single key on a ring. "Here. So I can lock it. I worry about him, about someone coming after him again. And I wanted to put better locks on all the windows, but Eddie protested. Any idea why?" Wayne asks, and it's playful, in a very dry way.

Steve laughs, reaching out and taking the key, closing his hand around it, tight.

"Okay, I'll come through the door."

"Thank you," Wayne says.

"And I'll help with the window locks. If you want," Steve offers, and Wayne nods, like he's accepting this offer.

Now, Steve isn't sure if he should get up and leave, or keep sitting, or what. He stays.

"I don't care, you know," Wayne finally says.

"Don't care?" Steve questions, wanting him to clarify. 

"If you boys are more than friends," Wayne says, and Steve hadn't expected it.

"Oh," Steve breathes out.

"He's my boy, and I want him to be happy. Whatever that means for him," Wayne explains and Steve suddenly feels like his eyes are burning.

He wishes his dad would be as invested in his happiness as Wayne clearly is about Eddie's.

"Thank you," Steve says, "it's…nothing, not really. We're just friends."

Wayne turns to look at him, and grins, "If you say so."

Steve feels like he's lying, even if he isn't. Not really.

"But we could be more than that, maybe, someday. When he's feeling better. Maybe, if he's interested in that," Steve rambles.

Wayne smiles, takes a deep drag on his cigarette, and blows it up into the night sky, "Oh, he's definitely interested. Steve Harrington this, Steve Harrington that. Let me tell you. I've heard your name more in the past few months than I've heard my own."

Steve laughs at that, unexpected and far too loud, and it doesn't take long before Eddie's bedroom window is being shoved open, his head popping out. His hair is a mess, tangled and frizzy, but he's on his feet, and that's a damn good look on him.

It's a beautiful sight. But he always is.

"What? Are you two having fun without me?" Eddie asks, like he's not at all surprised to see them together. Like this whole sneaking through the window thing wasn't a top secret operation.

Was it not a secret?

Steve turns back towards Wayne, "How long have you known I was coming through the window?"

"Since the first night," Wayne admits, "I heard you floundering in, and came to the door to check on him, but I heard Eddie laughing, so I knew he was okay. I asked him in the morning who was making such a racket, and he said it was you."

Steve laughs at himself, apparently he was trying to be stealthy for Eddie's benefit, but they weren't on the same page.

"C'mon in, Harrington. Henderson brought over some new tapes earlier," Eddie says, and Steve stands.

Wayne nods his head towards the back door, "It's unlocked. But your key will work there, too."

And Steve pulls it open, heading towards Eddie's room. Eddie is back in bed, propped up, remote in hand for the VCR Steve had set up in Eddie's room months ago, thinking they'd get better use out of it here, than Steve would at home, these days.

Steve settles next to him, "What do we got tonight?"

"Back to the Future, have you seen it?" Eddie asks.

"Only while very drugged by the Russians," Steve admits, "it'll be nice to see it again."

Steve's sure there's no chance Eddie will stay awake for an entire movie, but he'll be happy to sit with him, no matter what.

"You're so weird, Harrington," Eddie says, but it sounds affectionate, and Steve will take it, as Eddie leans his head on Steve's shoulder.

"Yeah, well. Back at ya, Munson."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddie-week and follow along with the fun!

[snifflesthemouse]

Final Post before I go... to remind some of you exactly who this author is...

I am a recovering addict who has almost a decade clean and serene. I know, without a doubt, I am a HORRIBLE wretched human being. I lived with a narcissistic murder/psychopath before prison, and then I lived with all kinds of them IN PRISON. I walked past meaner, more dangerous people to go poop or shower than anyone behind a screen here. I have lived life. I'm nowhere near a narcissist. You have no idea who I actually am, you only see what I construct for you to see to protect my own identity.

Saying I am a narc because people are having trouble following my very long, drawn out posts is stupid. Clarification isn't indicative of being a narc. So literally every single YT channel or anyone wanting to find a different medium for further clarification is a narc then? I think not. I think most of you pick up words and repeat them without thinking of the true connotation of the word's meaning

Really, right now, I am just thinking out loud to myself about why I am attracting dumb people here all of a sudden.

Calling me names, calling any person like me names, only makes me laugh. It's cute to me. When people call me names or say things like they have some authority... it only shows me their water levels... and boy the drought is upon us!

When you've spent the first two decades of your life conning people and putting thousands of dollars up your nose or in a vein, you get to know people. Truly see the worst society has to offer. My cellie in prison stabbed her best friend 72 times. 72. We ate lunch every day together. She was a narc.

OH, FYI... A water level is someone's mental capacity in the con world. I embrace critically thinking people who can form a thought and express it without being like me deep down inside. If you are NOT like me, you are a good person. I am not a good person. DUH.

Deep down inside, I want to show my true colors. I want to be nasty. I want to skulldrag people sometimes. I don't though, because the old ways bring back the old me. I've worked too hard in the real world and I know my real world worth.

I don't owe anything to anyone. I try to be nice and not read the comments, or even my messages. But eff all that.

If you think for one second I am not aware of how terrible a person I was, you are stupid. I know better than you all could ever...

If you feel the need to say something rude, think twice. Please. I won't be held responsible for what comes off my keyboard next if you bring it to me first.

Let's just say I've said it all about myself at least 10x as bad before and 10x worse. I've said it MANY TIMES BEFORE but it seems people are too lazy to get a clue before commenting anymore.

I DON'T WANT YOU CRAPPY READERS AS BAD AS YOU CRAPPY READERS DON'T WANT THIS CRAPPY WRITER. So GTFOH.

That is all, folks.

Well, not really... Truth is I write things, I post them and walk off and live. I took my drug addiction and turned it into an empire where I am retired. I don't make money here. I've never once received shit, even though people quote my work all the fucking time. Funny. What's even funnier is how you can post real shit with real proof and people still be like "WhAt DoEs It MeAn?!?" They believe dumb shit about fucking reptiles but not common sense logic or real proof. I don't want fucking morons around me or on my page. If that statement bothers you... go ahead and block me. I don't block people because I don't ever read anything from hardly anyone else. I read a few blogs I Know and trust. But that's it.

I used to care that this blog was growing. That it had thousands of followers. That I still to this day haven't been able to follow everyone back because of the limits daily. I used to think being nice and just ignoring the rude people was the thing to do, because hey at least they read and you made them think... that's all an author wants. Readers to think... harder, differently, whatever. JUST FUCKING THINK.

SO yeah... do with that what you will. Because this author will continue to do whatever the fuck this mouse wants. This mouse isn't like some Yter or some blogger begging for cuppas and tips. I got cash, and I got ass. I don't get shit for shit. It is my hobby. I'd get it if one of yall paid a motherfucking bill sometime. I might listen. But I do bad all by myself.

DONE

[sevensided]

Hi i just wanted to say first of all that you're one of the authors i most admire - and i don't mean just with fics/fandom, i mean in general. You're genuinely one of the best authors i've ever read, and you've been such a big inspiration to me personally, so thank you for being so lovely and sharing such beautiful works with the world <3

I did actually have a question! Do you have any advice about dealing with writer's block or feeling unmotivated to write? I wrote so much in the past year and now i feel like i've hit a wall, and it's made me kind of sad? Like i wake up every day and want to write, but i just can't get it to work like i used to. I didn't know if you maybe had any advice on it or anything that's helped you in the past, but i figured it wouldn't hurt to try and ask!

Again, thank you for sharing your beautiful writing with the world - i'm grateful for it every day. I hope everything is going well with you <3

Hello! I have been mulling over your question for a while, so I hope you'll forgive my delay in responding to you. Thank you sincerely for your compliments; it is seriously humbling to think that my writing has had that kind of impact. Thank you.

The thing about writer's block is that we all have it. I often go through huge waves of inspiration and activity where I can write intensely. But that is also followed by periods where it literally feels like a physical wall is blocking me off from any creativity or motivation. I really feel you. I only recently crawled out of that hole.

I don't think there is a one-size-fits-all answer, to be honest. What does help me is shifting focus to something else. For example, when I recently had writer's block I simply accepted it and indulged in watching some shows that I hadn't seen before (HBO's Perry Mason). I found that surprisingly inspiring, and what do you know, I have an idea for a fic and I've banged out close to 10k. That flowed onto another fic (not ST) that I'm working on. And now I'm back in my groove.

Sometimes I think it's about removing yourself from whatever you know you want to write. It's easy to get down on yourself and focus on the negative components: that you're lazy, or not good enough, or that you should just 'get over it'. Writing is tremendously difficult. It takes creative space and freedom and patience. These things cannot be summoned. But you can make those spaces for yourself.

I try to be intentional in how I use my creative energy, and I also restrict it. That might sound counter-intuitive, but I swear that it works. I will indulge my writing for a few hours before I make myself stop. I close the document and log out. The next day, I'm ready to go; I've been simmering for hours, I have so many ideas, I have to write! It's about stretching out that creative energy instead of depleting it so much that you need to recover, and then, before you know it, it's been months since you've written anything.

I also find that being accountable to someone else helps. I have a very, very dear friend who indulges me and will read all of my work, even if it's shit or not thought out. She is the best cheerleader. Sometimes you just need to know that someone will actually read whatever it is you're thinking of. They don't have to critique; they just have to read. Being able to promise another chapter to them does help with motivation.

I would also suggest carving out time for writing, and potentially putting a time restriction on it. Say you come home from a long day at work, and all you want is to eat dinner and relax and go to bed. Try and add writing in there too. Eat dinner, then get comfy and open your laptop/phone. Challenge yourself to write at least a paragraph. When you get going, stop yourself. Close your device. Put on some TV. Go to bed. Restrict the flow - then rinse and repeat. See if you can write more the next evening, and the next, and the next. And most importantly: do not read what you have written. Just keep going. Resist the urge to edit as you go. If you're insecure about your writing, editing is the death sentence, because it is the voice in the back of your head that tells you this will never be good enough, so why even try? Shut that voice up by pushing and pushing until you have 1k, 2k, then allow yourself to read and edit. Trust me, that voice is WRONG and the only way to overcome it is to learn how to manage it.

Another thing I would suggest is working on another project. Try writing some short piece unrelated to your current WIP. Some 500 words of pure chaos. Tidy it up. Publish it. Keep doing that. Keep putting work out there, just to have it in the universe. If you keep your writing in your head, you will not have enough space to write. Get it out!!! Free up your creative energy! Keep going!

The fact that you have had this momentum before is amazing. It sounds like you might be a little tired or creatively burned out. Try what I've suggested and see what happens. I'm also always down to chat about these processes, so feel free to IM me. You've got this.

[hopesofawallflower]

November 12, 2024

Hey... It has been a long while. There is so much to share, but so little at the same time. I just... don't really know where to start.

The past two years of my life was...hell. I completed my military service and had pretty much stayed at home for the past two years playing video games. The first year was recovering from the leg surgery I had, and... the second year was just... I don't even know. My family labels it as 'laziness', while I call it 'depression'.

There were multiple fights, big ones, with my brother. He seems to struggle to understand my emotions. When I refuse to open up to him about anything going on in my life, he assumes the worst, then calls me a liar for actually trying what little I can put an effort in. When I do open up to him in the heat of an argument, he then claims I'm using my mental illness as an excuse to be lazy since I don't physically display the tell tale signs of someone going through depression. It was exhausting. Between the big fights, small fights, the gossiping with my parents behind my back... it really felt like my life was not worth living for. Family? What family? Family don't call each other names. They don't say you're a good-for-nothing. They don't shout at you, while talking politely with my brother even though he's in the wrong in certain situations. These two to three years made me realize that I'm done with my family. I'm absolutely done.

My brother got his own place and moved out in October. We kept things cordial until he moved out which meant we're still roughly on talking terms... and I guess without the constant close proximity in the same living quarters, it's just a little more tolerable.

My relationship with my parents is the same old off and on bullshit. We get into huge verbal fights from time to time... but my mental state is so messed up I'm actively trying to not speak with them. I don't think they noticed, but soon they might, which will probably spark up another argument. It does not matter though. I'm done. No conversations means there's nothing they can find to spark up any further arguments.

In lieu of my brother moving out, I get a larger living space. It's not huge by any means, and I'm still sleeping in the living room which meant my privacy is almost non-existent since my parents can just walk out of their bedroom and get a view of everything. Not to mention the noise and light they produce when I'm planning to have an early night. It's much less of a nightmare after my brother moved out, but still a nightmare nonetheless. I'm trying to transform this living room into a more conducive environment for myself. I'm planning to get some new furniture, maybe some table potted plants to spruce up the space. I need this. I need this badly.

I have also gotten a job. I started 4 months ago in June. I work at the backend of a Bank, just simple stuff, not too complicated, but doesn't mean that it isn't tedious. The sheer volume of work makes me question life sometimes. Getting a job means i have much lesser time to play video games, but have money to do things I want to do. Like get a professional camera, and travel the world. The latter will have to wait though.... I also built a new PC. Costs a bomb, but I'm pretty satisfied with it.

Work has been... all right so far. I am currently 'on loan' to another department and that department has been working me to my bones. I have started to overtime and I just can't get a breather during work. Paperwork just keeps piling up, the colleagues in that department seems extremely judgmental and just yesterday, I stopped myself from lashing out at something ridiculous that was said to me by a colleague there. I just need to be cool and ignore the people there until the end of the year since that's when I am scheduled to go back to my original department. The colleagues there are much nicer.

Sorry if it seems I'm rushing through everything. My mental state isn't the best right now.... and there's just so much I want to share, but there's this massive mental block so I'm just speeding through whatever comes into my mind.

So right now... I just spend majority of my time at work on weekdays and after getting home from work, I will be on my PC until it's my bed time. The weekends are pretty similar... I just spend the entire day on my PC and then go to bed.

There's not much going on in my life.... I just feel really... lonely, unsatisfied and it seems like every little thing triggers this gnawing and insatiable rage in me. Nothing makes me happy and there are some afternoons I just stare at the wall, thinking about everything, yet nothing at all.

I don't know what to do. I don't know what I can do. I just... feel so lost.

Good night, world.

[the-firebird69]

Give a couple things real quick these people giving us trouble as usual we need more people here right now I'm sending the orders

-it's Saturday they're going to sit here and blab and try and slow us down that way even though they're busy as hell they're out there in the midwest pulling all this out the comment is that they don't have much time to do so and they're slowing down already so our son and daughter say take their stuff and cuz they said it and if they do so we're going to start doing it and that's good when is false flag and we put it out there cuz I do guys do it or we do not the empire

-there's a giant bunch of them who are trying to go to the park it's not true these people are lazy and they're saying it's in your face and all sorts of dumb s*** and they're very weak for the empire and I don't see them recovering we don't see them going after ships either look at devastated at the border and they're going ahead and getting ready to do it again and they're just going to get devastated I can't believe they're doing it is not true but boy they stupid that's like going to be probably 2% there by 3:00 and they've already lost a whole bunch of 26% and no it's 25.5%. there's a few other things

-this John reamallard guy Trump is a huge huge a****** he's out there taking other people's stuff and they're fighting him and we are too and what you say is when he takes the stuff grab it from him when he's taking it from someone else and we're doing that quite steadily in other people are grabbing it back too and Trump is angry about it and he's trying stuff from going after him he's going to take huge losses because of it what a prick it's used stuff and let's sit there forever wasn't taking any could have taken all of his and apples they wouldn't have noticed or carrot and probably in too late but this guy's an a****** I know what you're saying now he's mean and stupid and a b**** and just repulsive and he likes doing it but we like to beat people up would do that so we're going out there and taking your stuff cuz you're a b**** and you're slowing down and we don't want to slow down huge piles of bikes and trunk gave the order to slow down and so the Bja there's more too

-we have a huge headache when it comes to Brad his dick his want anybody taking his stuff or his people so there's people out there taking it he's giving orders to some of his people to shoot them and they're saying we're your people and they said get out of here we shoot you and then they said these are our bikes and they said that you hear what we're saying and so they start shooting at the ones with the guns and told them to f*** off and it's there bikes and they can't stop them and they're in there pulling them out and more idiots come out and we're wondering who the hell these idiots are and they're clones and they're stopping Brad's people and he's ordering them to stop them so we sort of get the idea and it's going on right now that these people are stupid and they're getting rid of their check and Trump's been doing it for a while and it's a clone effect so we're taking their stuff there's a few other stinkkers really we're going to get a huge share of it. They'll be sold as modified really can't sell them you can only sell them privately and we're moving out on that we have a huge number of them and we have giant disassembly plants and we're taking the metal and recycling and rubber and using it for the kids to assemble them and for the tires and for the metal for the steel belts and other things that we use the shocks and springs on small cars are sufficient they don't do a great job some of them do but we have enough of them from just a few cars we have for tons of these bikes front and rear shocks and we are doing that right now we find out what you can't restore these bikes they're all disgusting but a lot of the electronics that the gauges and the controls are working working and the battery is not what the housing is and we're taking it all apart and putting it back together on the bike and we have a rack and he said it'll be nice and put a rack on the front and the rack on the back and attach it wherever and there's tons of people doing it where we are huge factories are opening up and they're relatively mixed still but we're in control and we're making tons of them people are grabbing the Harley-Davidson factories and it's on meaning that Max are after them and it caused a slowdown that's actually why so they might think about holding off on the Harley-Davidson factories they only took two but they're pretty big

Thor Freya

We're going to do that and stop doing it and we see how it is this stuff is rancid and it's too hot I throw the watch away and Trump picks it up and he's addicted to it and he gets killed it's really a proof of theorem

Bja

Wow this sucks I want to watch so bad I'm going to die for it I guess that's what it is people say it looks like it it really does

Trump

Olympus

[squirrelsinthebelfry]

Bobbin and Squirrel - Making our life fit us by rejecting the dominant culture rather than continuing the fruitless attempt to make ourselves fit into a box that was never meant for us.

***

So, I've always been a pathological rule follower. I never put a lot of thought into it, to be honest. It never had much to do with wanting to be a moral or just person, but rather it just helped me take some of the guesswork out of figuring out how to fit in amongst the humans. I had a strong belief in "The System", and thought that my seeming inability to really find my feet as a grown-up was a serious character flaw on my part. I've tried so hard to be a good and conscientious worker and citizen, and always did very well at work because of my strict adherence to rules and processes. My companies always quickly decided, incorrectly, that my positive qualities would make me a good manager, and that's where everything always goes tits-up. I am good at working, but I'm not a leader. I know this, but because I was always so keen on being an adult "correctly", I believed that it was incorrect to ever turn down an opportunity... Then I burn-out from the stress and end up burning my life down in the process.

The last time I burned my life down, it was epic. It started in early 2014 - I was a department manager in a large warehouse for a major multinational telecom company, and not only being eaten alive by the stress of that job, but also simultaneously going through something else traumatic that I'll probably talk about later - and by mid-2015 I was fresh off a suicide attempt and yet another majorly traumatic event, homeless, and sleeping on my sister's couch.

Canada's "Social Safety Net" that I had previously had so much faith in, simply told me to go fuck myself and kicked me into the gutter. Apparently it's more cost effective to let me fall homeless without any resources for dealing with my trauma and burn-out, than to help me recover and get me back into the workforce? Not very smart, Canada. My fear of becoming homeless kept me slaving away as a Conscientious Employee, pouring profits into the hands of lazy, useless overlords who don't actually do anything other than own capital, in exchange for a tiny pittance that was just enough to afford to be able to keep working and nothing else. Now, I've been without full-time employment or housing for so long, and spent the last two-plus years living in my car with my mister, that I've learned not only to no longer be afraid of homelessness, but that homelessness is closer to freedom than being tied to rent or mortgage payments ever could be. I have learned to despise government, and that grassroots organization is going to be key in overthrowing the dominant culture of this shit-eating rock.

I hope I live long enough to see that, but in the meantime we're focusing on getting the clunky old car ready to sell and looking at listings for vans in our low price range.

We're currently staying at my sister's house which I call either The Manor or Demon Manor. This is a temporary stopover that we are now having some difficulty leaping from because my elderly parents are living here, too, and they keep trying to convince me not to go back to living in the car. I hate it here, though. My sister used to be such a reasonable person, but she's gotten mean and weirdly conservative in the last few years, and coupled with the passive aggressive way she communicates her displeasure about whatever she's displeased about, her home has become an unbearably toxic environment. Even my poor old parents feel like they've been bullied into a corner and just spend their time hiding their heads.

Anyway. Wish us luck!

[nyankojin]

GOOD IMAGE GOOD IMAGE GOOD IMAGE

"I can't believe this is The Base Destroyer and The Devil Hunter they are IDIOTS."

- Warlock wearing oversized clothing is definitely accurate. He is unnaturally tiny for his age and the only clothes that actually fit him are custom-made, so he has to settle for casual clothes that don't quite fit (he gets paid well but not that well). You wouldn't guess at a glance, but Warlock is only one year younger than Satoru. (Warlock's 09, Satoru's 10)

Satoru has a similar problem, but not quite as much as Warlock. He's a perfectly average height for his age, if not taller, but also very thin and wiry. He can find clothes that fit him easily enough, but they usually hang off of him at least a little.

- Warlock's personal fashion sense is all about being comfortable. He's usually covering most of his skin and wearing clothes that are visibly too big on him. He has a particular fondness for dress shirts, knit sweaters, and long (usually pleated) skirts in greys and neutral tones. If he's too tired (or perhaps lazy) to put together an outfit, he'll just go out in his second-form robe. It's not normal attire by any means but it's not as bizarre as his li'l jester suit (by a very small margin).

Satoru just wears whatever he wants. What he wears canonically is basically his entire fashion sense. Because of how simple his clothes usually are, he unconsciously absorbs the style and fashion sensibilities of his friends, the people around him, characters from the media he consumes... anything, really. (Poor kid didn't know what colour theory was until he realized that Saki was picking the colours of her outfits very deliberately.)

- Warlock is pretty good at sewing, especially clothes. It was a bit of a hobby of his even before joining the Dark Heroes. Then there was the whole Mad Doctor Klay incident and... well, after that, he found working with cloth a lot easier than working with flesh. He has even done a few outfit commissions for his friends (but that's a whole other unfinished fanfic. About nine of them, in fact).

- Lying about needing help with schoolwork as an excuse to hang out is also definitely something the prideful little Warlock would do. Satoru would ask for help genuinely and Warlock would agree only so he could spend time with him.

They have a practice they refer to as "study dates," where they both get comfy in one of their rooms or at the local library to study or help each other with schoolwork. At least, they try to. They usually get distracted and end up chatting instead. (They probably both have ADHD lmao.)

- Warlock likes to playfully tease and poke fun at his friends as a way of showing affection. When he thinks someone has done something stupid, he is not quiet about it. Satoru knows he's just playing, but he can still get grumpy and defensive if he's already not in a good mood.

- Satoru has a massive bite scar on his chest. It is just under his collarbone and almost mirrored on his front and his back. He's never told anyone how he got it (and very few people know it even exists because it's usually hidden by his shirt) but given its placement and size, a large aku presumably tried to bite his right arm off. If Warlock has any similarly large scars, he hasn't told Satoru about them yet.

- They sparred in a controlled environment once. It did not end well. Satoru almost broke Warlock's ribs and felt horrible about it until he recovered (all the while Warlock was like "Dude calm down I'm not mad I'm an Uber I've survived worse than this").

- Funny that you mentioned Saki possibly helping Satoru dye his hair. Her hair is naturally black but she dyes it silver/blonde. She probably did.

- Warlock is trilingual! His first language was English, his second was French, and his third was Japanese. He's unnaturally good at retaining information.

- Pierre and Warlock have a sort of parent-child dynamic while Summon and Satoru are more older-sibling-younger-sibling.

- Pierre and Summon were utterly delighted when they found out that their masters were starting to grow closer. It was comforting to see their kiddos make friends their age and act at least a little bit like normal little boys.

- The insomnia. Ohhh, the insomnia. Poor Warlock gave it to himself without even realizing it. He started learning magic in the first place with the intention of learning a sleeping spell. At the time, Pierre was living in his subconscious mind and he could only see and interact with them while he was asleep. This only stopped when Pierre realized that Warlock was neglecting his own health in favour of spending time with them in his dreams and started threatening to not visit him if he didn't turn this around.

The effects of abusing this spell didn't kick in until several years later. At that point, Pierre was in the real world, Warlock had befriended Satoru, and they'd been in the Cat Army for a while. Warlock's usual remedy was (and is) laying on Pierre's chest and letting the sounds of their breathing and heartbeat lull him to sleep.

His first sleepover with Satoru was on a rare night when Pierre was not with him. He called Satoru in the middle of the night and asked if they could talk until he fell asleep. Worried about his health, Satoru showed up at Warlock's door to comfort him, and when Pierre finally returned, they found the boys cuddling in a pile of blankets on the floor.

They make me so happy... they deserve all the hugs

I'm currently running low on headcanons to share specifically involving these two and their relationship (I'll definitely remember/come up with more in the future though lmao) but I could probably talk about Saki or Pierre or another Dark Hero for just as long. Maybe I'll even ramble endlessly about an AU next. Who knows?

If PONOS doesn't give us the content we crave then we'll just have to make it ourselves.

WAHHH,, IM SO HAPPY YOU LIKE MY BATTLE CATS HCS!!! So glad you also like Satoru and Warlock being pals!

-ancient-cats-unite

Hey sorry about taking like a whole week and a half to reply I had my headcanons validated and I panicked.

Have more.

- They met early in the year, when Satoru was just being welcomed into the Cat Army. However, Satoru was freaked out by Warlock's whole vibe and Warlock was deep in a guarded and distrusting phase, so they... didn't exactly like each other.

They gradually got closer thanks to Saki. She joined shortly before Satoru and set her sights on befriending both of them almost immediately. They kind of became friends by association.

Their friendship was cemented about five months after they first met, in the middle of summer and partially by accident. They went from having a tense yet gradually softening relationship to being undeniably close in the span of just under a few hours. Much to the confusion of everyone. They are the only ones who know exactly what happened.

- They balance each other nicely. Satoru is extroverted, loud, adorably pure and optimistic, and an idiot, while Warlock is introverted, quiet, adorably aloof and snarky, and also an idiot but in a less obvious way. They are constantly reigning the other in, or more often failing to reign the other in because they have more fun that way.

- Despite being the introverted one, Warlock is usually the one approaching Satoru and inviting him to hang out. He proceeds to let Satoru pick what they do together almost every single time because what they do is just a vehicle for spending time with his friend.

- Satoru likes to go on long-winded explanations of whatever he is excited about to whoever will listen. Warlock just sits there and listens (and occasionally falls asleep on his shoulder).

- Satoru is more sensible and safe, but easily caves to Warlock's unhinged, impulsive whims if he has no backup. He wants to make sure that Warlock doesn't do anything stupid without him.

- Though they are obviously very close friends who love each other very much, they are weirdly reluctant to say so out loud. Maybe it's the last remaining bits of that initial tension refusing to let go. They can be prideful and irrational little things.

(This doesn't stop them from doing all the things friends do together, they just refuse to say that they're friends.) (They aren't fooling anyone.)

- They love hugs and cuddles and being close in general.

I have some half-finished fics involving them (and half-finished Battle Cats fics in general) so maybe if I get some actual writing motivation I'll start posting my longer stuff here.

That's all I've got right now. If you have more of your own please tell me them because I love hearing what other people think about characters I like. Your content makes me happy, really :)))

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Sleeping with Eula, Lisa, Jean, Rosaria, Amber, and Lumine HC's

Despite how the title sounds, this isn't spicy, just simple fluff.

It came into my head as I'm falling asleep/listening to "I Really Want to Stay at Your House" from Cyberpunk Edgerunners.

Because I still haven't recovered.

Eula only lets her S/O sleep in the same bed because it's easier for her vengeance to be enacted, do not get that mistaken.

...With that formality out of the way, Eula holds onto them with an iron grip.

Even though her hold isn't going to loosen up any, its a very comfortable squeeze.

Her head will rest against her S/O's, making sure they're faced away so they don't see her smile.

Not that they could anyway with it being so dark.

At least she hopes so, anyway.

Eula's bed feels soft yet very cold. Although she tries to keep it as cold as she can, she doesn't mind the warmth her S/O brings.

She's not always there to fall asleep with them due to her duties, but she treasures every moment she gets.

Lisa being the beautiful lazy woman she is, prefers to be held in bed.

She holds her S/O all the time, she's entitled to being pampered too. Ignoring the fact she is every second of the day.

Her bed feels very plush, the perfect type of bed to relax to and not get out in the morning.

Lisa might tease her S/O and hang onto them, but she always puts her head on their chest.

The heartbeat is very comforting as her head goes gently up and down, as she drifts off to bed.

Lisa always has a way with her words to convince her S/O to stay in bed for an extra hour or two, wanting to go back to sleep.

Her hair will also go all over the place due to a slight bit of static from her Vision and the bed, so her S/O will occasionally wake up to hair all over their face.

Jean is ready to collapse onto her bed with S/O when she finally gets a chance.

It's not very often she's there at a reasonable time at night, but she's grateful whenever she can.

Her bed is honestly very standard, nothing too remarkable about it.

Other than her lover is now sharing this once empty bed.

She doesn't mind being little or big spoon, but she loves being both for different reasons.

Jean likes the new feeling of being held, but also wants to give a familiar comfort, hugging and protecting her S/O, even when they're asleep.

The stress of the day instantly melts the second she gets under the sheets, with a kiss to S/O's forehead she is out like a light.

Rosaria doesn't get back until ungodly hours in the night most of the time.

After patching herself up and making sure S/O is sleeping soundly, she gets into her bed and passes out next to them.

Her bed feels cold, though its because shes barely in it.

The times she does actually get to go to bed with her S/O is completely jarring.

Rosaria isn't used to being held or holding someone when she sleeps, and honestly she's still not sure if she wants to.

She loves her S/O, but she needs her own space too.

...But, if S/O is asking, she'll oblige, holding or being held.

It only ever so slightly warms her face, feeling arms gently wrap around her.

And if she's feeling very VERY special that night, she'll give them a small peck on the lips.

Even at night, Amber is energetic.

It used to take her a while to fall asleep, but now with her S/O, it doesn't seem as boring!

She'll casually talk with her S/O about her day, asking about theirs, talking a lot in general.

Though her voice gets very soft as she looks into her S/O's eyes.

She gets very soft at night, hugging S/O tight and expecting the same.

Amber falls asleep very quickly if they're both holding each other, and with the biggest smile.

Her bed is a little squeaky, and is definitely a bit on the stiffer side, but it still is nice to sleep on.

It also has a Baron Bunny on it, because she refuses to not have it there.

Lumine will tell her S/O that she made the bed herself, which is half true.

She swaps out her bed from Mondstadt style, to Liyue, Inazuma, Sumeru, it just depends on her mood.

And the vibe of the room, whatever that means. But hey, her teapot, her rules.

Lumine makes sure to kick Paimon out so she can snuggle with her S/O in peace without a snack goblin interrupting them.

She tells her S/O what kinds of things she got up to as her voice begins growing softer and softer.

Lumine holds onto her S/O, afraid that they'd disappear if she ever lets go.

But it always reassures her to see them when she opens her eyes.

Lumine also has a tendency to snore and drool, so the sweet moments are usually interrupted by either of the two. Or both.

But with how tired she gets from adventuring, who can blame her?

...

Paimon can.

[ro-is-struggling]

Dance With Somebody || Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky dances with you for the first time in 70 years

Warnings: pure fluff and a tiny bit of angst, mentions of the reader having some kind of healing power, set somewhere after caws so bucky is in control of his body but is having trouble remembering his past

English is not my first language

Word count: 1200

Notes: this is an idea I had for that bucky x healer reader series that I talked about a long time ago. I still want to write it, but I don’t know when I’ll have time to do it, so I wrote this instead because I thought it was too cute not to do it

"I wonder if you liked to go dancing back in the day?" 

The question escaped your lips before you realized what you were saying. It was a lazy Sunday afternoon and you were lying on the couch, flipping through your phone while Bucky read a book next to you. You two had met by coincidence. He had shown up injured and disoriented on your doorstep and seeing his condition you decided to help him, using your powers to cure him. When he regained consciousness the next morning you discovered that in addition to his multiple physical injuries, he had a memory loss. Bucky barely remembered anything about his past and being the curious person you were you did not hesitate to venture into the adventure that you were sure would be the road to recovering his memory. 

You took it as your own responsibility to help him find the missing pieces of the puzzle, stimulating his memory with questions and activities that articles on the internet had suggested you use. It helped a little that Bucky was Captain America's supposedly deceased best friend because at least that gave you a place to start. For example, the last few weeks had been spent reading about him at the museum and touring Brooklyn, making specific stops at places you thought might be significant. The neighborhood had changed a lot since the last time he'd been there, but you hoped it would still spark some kind of response in his brain.

"What was that, doll?" Bucky asked you, pulling his eyes away from his book to look at you.

"I was wondering if you liked to dance back in the day." You repeated, closing the video of a Swing dance competition that had popped up in the recommendations and caused your question. You had a hard time imagining Bucky dancing like the people in the video. He was too tall and beefy to imagine him moving with such grace. "I mean, swing was a big thing at that time, right?"

"Yeah," he nodded with a contemplative expression. "I don't know… I think there was a place I used to go."

"Were you any good at it? Because I was looking at some videos about it and it looks like it's really complicated." You knew that the versions you had available on YouTube were probably professionalized versions of the dance and not necessarily how it was commonly danced in the 30's and 40's, but you still had a hard time imagining Bucky doing half of what the dancers did in those videos.

"I don't know, I don't remember. It's all a blur… as if I'm trying to remember someone else's life." Bucky's voice was low, sad. It hurt you to see the frustration in his eyes at not being able to remember his past with clarity. You wished there was something more you could do to help him. Your powers, while useful in healing his physical wounds, didn't seem to be able to do the same for the wounds in his mind. Or at least you didn't know how.

Determined to not let that stop you from helping him, an idea formed in your mind. "Would you like to know?" You asked him with an amused smile. "I can put on some music and we can find out for ourselves."

"It's not going to work, doll." Bucky sighed, placing the book he was reading on the coffee table. "Even if I was the best dancer of my generation I don't think it would matter now. Dancing it's not just about muscle memory, it's about passion, soul… and right now my soul is shattered."

"Oh c'mon! It'll be fun!" You tried cheering him up. You weren't very good at dancing, but you were willing to make a fool of yourself for him. "It might spark something in you."

Ignoring his protests, you unlocked the screen of your phone to look for a video of slow music that you could use to dance to. When you found one you liked, you connected the device to the speakers to amplify the melody. Playing the video you looked at Bucky with a big smile on your face and he shook his head.

"Doll." He spoke in a warning tone watching as you approached him with your hands extended in his direction.

"C'mon, pleaseee" you begged, grabbing his hands and pulling him towards you in an attempt to lift him off the couch. You knew you couldn't move him, he was much stronger and heavier than you, but you hoped he would take pity on you. "It's a slow song, it's not so hard to follow along." You pouted and Bucky finally gave in, letting out a defeated sigh.

He let you lead him to the side of the living room where you had more room to move freely. Then you put your hands on his shoulders as he took you by the waist. Looking up you met his insecure eyes. His figure towered over you, reminding you exactly how much bigger and taller he was than you. You gave him a sweet smile to calm his nerves, a silent way of telling him that he was safe with you. And then you began to move your feet to the music. 

Bucky followed your lead, shifting his body from side to side in sync with yours. He moved cautiously at first, afraid of doing something wrong or stepping on you by accident. But as the seconds passed he gained more confidence, the muscles in his body remembering abilities they didn't know they possessed until that moment. His hands tightened their grip on your waist slightly, taking the initiative and marking the steps.

"How does it feel?" You asked, your voice barely a whisper as to not disturb the peaceful atmosphere that had been created.

"Good... it's easier than I thought." Bucky answered honestly, letting the melody of the music wash over him.

"See? I told you!" You exclaimed, but your celebration was interrupted when Bucky took you by the hand and surprisingly spun you around. You let out a giggle as you let him guide you, feeling like a princess in a fairy tale.

Bucky took a moment to admire your beauty—the sweet sound of your laughter and the beautiful way your hair moved in the air as you twirled. When he took you in his arms again your eyes sparkled with a glow he had never noticed before. Your lips curved into an amused smile that awakened a strange tingle inside him. It was something he hadn't felt in a long time, so much so that he had completely forgotten what it was. However, when you rested your head on his chest and his heart started pounding, Bucky understood what was happening to him. 

"Did it spark anything?" You muttered against his chest, closing your eyes as you enjoyed the moment. The warmth of his body enveloped you in a soothing way and the slow, delicate rhythm at which you moved helped you relax.

"Yeah something like that." Bucky said, feeling that tingle spreading throughout his body. He was surprised to feel something like that. After all he had been through he thought he would never be able to experience the joy of love ever again, but you had just proved him wrong. 

"Good, I'm glad."

"So am I, doll" he whispered against your hair, placing a delicate kiss on the top of your head. "So am I."

[tellmeimcrazy]

Okkkkk so I'm kinda, stoned rn- And this popped into my head.

What if Mulder made edibles, and ate some with Scully? Well, here ya go babesss:

~

Scully set her glass of wine down on the coffee table when she heard the knock on her door. She stood up to peek through the peephole. Mulder. Smiling, she opened up the door.

"Hey, what's up.. What are those Mulder?" she gestured to a tray with a questionable variety of sweets.

He hesitated. "Uhhh.. I made these, uh, for us?" Scully chuckled.

"Well, come in." The two walked over to and sat down on Scully's sofa. Mulder set the tray on the coffee table next to Scully's wine glass. He took off the plastic wrap and revealed the treats to his partner.

"You made these, Mulder? They look delicious!" she grabs a cookie and takes a massive bite. Mulder panics. "What-?" she mumbles, her mouth full.

"Uh. Scully- Finish chewing." *Yeah, so she can chew you out after you tell her what's in them..* He thinks.

She swallows, "This is really good Mulder. I didn't know you could bake!"

"Scully, I made those with weed." He blurts. *Great job Spooky, you couldn't have been any less subtle with it.*

"I knew something was up." Mulder stares at her, unsure of what to say. Scully arches her eyebrow, "Well? Are you going to eat any? Or are these for me?" She grins, and finishes the cookie. Mulder grabs two brownies, handing one to Scully. She shakes her head, "I want the bigger one." So they switch.

1 hour later

(Scully had a few more treats, Mulder only ate 2. I'm too high to find a way to add this in as part of the fic so, ✨context✨.)

"Well, the chicken laid the egg. So, it's the chicken."

"No, Mulder, it's the egg. I've been thinking. Eggs have been here for, billions and billions of years, yeah?"

Mulder shrugged.

"Not the kind we eat, of course. I mean the actual thing, the one in a uterus. They've been here since, since Jesus." She explained.

"Did Jesus eat eggs?" Mulder questioned.

"Mulder, that's not the point. Chickens haven't been here that long. Therefore, the egg came first." Scully finished.

"I need more weed. This is making my head hurt." Mulder decided.

Mulder reached into his pocket and fished around for a bit. After a few moments, he pulled out a small baggie. Filled with joints. "Mulder! How come you didn't bring those out sooner??" Scully clung onto him and squeezed.

"Do you want to light it?" He asked her.

Scully's eyes lit up, "Yes!!" He handed her a joint and his lighter. She accepted them with glee. Scully flicked on the lighter and held it to the end of the joint. She handed the lighter back to Mulder after the end began to glow orange. Scully brought the joint to her lips and inhaled deeply. She took it away from her lips, and let her eyes drift shut. She passed it to Mulder as she exhaled gracefully. Mulder repeated her actions, except for his coughing fit as he exhaled. Scully took the joint and patted Mulder's back as he coughed. She took a couple more hits and gave it back to him once he recovered.

"I think I'm done." She said to him.

"Okay Scully. Do you want me to put this out? I don't want the fire alarm, smoke detecting thing to beep."

Scully stood up and grabbed Mulder's hand. "Follow me." She led him into her bedroom and to the sliding glass door by her bed. She unlocked it and walked out, Mulder trailing behind. "We can sit out here, you can finish that, and then we can look at the stars."

"Okay." The two agents sat in chairs on the little porch. Scully scooted her chair closer to Mulder and laid her head on his shoulder. She snatched the joint and took a huge hit, held it, and exhaled. Then she started cracking up.

"I thought you were done Scully?" Mulder pondered.

"I was!" She said in between giggles. *I love her laugh.. I wish she would laugh more..* Mulder thought.

30 minutes later (sorry y'all im lazy i want them to fuck for no reason now)

Mulder and Scully came back inside at one point, but they were both so high, neither of then remembered when. The two were laying on Scully's bed, when Scully rolled over and flung herself on top of him.

"Scullyy.. What are you doing.." he mumbled, opening one of his eyes. She nestled her head into his neck and kissed it. She looked up into his eyes.

Mulder gently pulled Scully's face towards his face and she rested her forehead on his. "I love this Mulder. I love you." she whispered.

"Shh.. just lie here." They intertwined fingers and Mulder placed a few kisses on Scully's neck. Scully opened her eyes and Mulder saw they were full of passion. She grasped his chin and led his lips to hers. *Oh my god, this is happening.* Mulder thought dreamily.

Their lips came in contact. Scully's tongue poked through and into Mulder's mouth. She began to unbutton his shirt as he undid her skirt.

Scully pulled off her shirt and skirt after she gave up with Mulder's buttons. She slid off her bra and underwear and Mulder pounced. She flopped back onto the bed as Mulder's tongue attacked her nipples. She moaned in delight. Mulder's tongue trailed down her stomach and towards her vagina. He ruffled her auburn bush with his nose and slid his tongue onto her vagina. Moving it up and down, in and out, it pulsed and Scully groaned. She arched her back and came. Mulder greedily licked her fluids. "Oh, Mulder.. Mulder!!" Scully cried out.

That's all folks I gotta go find a snack. If anyone wants to finish this, or whatever, feel free to repost and add to it, just be sure to credit me <3

[sickficsforthesoul]

here's a prompt ?(or whateverits called): not a request ! also  ، ¿ ¡ ૮₍ 𖦹 ˕ ×` ₎ა ! ?·＊·  anon or 🧛🏻‍♀️ anon(emoji form) .  : the sickie hates today so much. they had to go to school bc it was a important practice match they had to be in. but they got a stomach bug yay! good 4 them !! they woke up feeling like shit , they knew they were sick. they wanted to stay in bed . praying to any god that they weren't gonna be sick. they fell asleep again saying just to rest for a few more minutes (well it ended up being 30 minutes ) now they only had 30 minutes to get to school, they knew they actually had to wake up. running out of bed to get there clothes and change as fast as they could (they dont shower in the morning and they were to lazy to brush their teeth) rushing out of bed that fast made them all dizzy . great . now they're stomach hurts. yep they were gonna vomit. they knew they couldn't make it to the bathroom . so they found a place that could store it , they rushed finding something in their room . they searched their desk. feeling the vomit rising up. shutting their mouth bc they dont want their desk getting vomit on it. it was so strong it went in their nose. they couldnt hold it in anymore. throwing up in their desk  wetting all the papers. homeworks . they were gonna get in trouble at school. they had no hw anymore . well they were gonna be late to practice if they cleaned it up.so they ignored it. gagging at the smell of it. they finally finished their daily routine . they skipped breakfast (just like most of the times). they grabbed a mask and went to school . playing games on their phone to distract themselves.  sadly that didnt work . they got all dizzy , they put their phone. feeling too dizzy they nearly tripped . they countied waking to school. remembering they only had 5 minutes left they had to continue walking faster. they started running. while running they were thinking abt how they got sick. :: I prob  got sick from some1 in my class. yeah. they threw up in the classroom and they sat near me. they were probably coughing alot.. ew.. :: they arrived at school. going into the volleyball ball gym changing room. no1 was there . they were probably practicing.  suddenly they felt their stomach growl. it hurts so much. why today they ask. they wrapped their arms around them and it hurts so bad. when it kinda stop they had the courage to change into their volleyball club uniform and go to the gym. while walking there they started coughing.having a coughing fit made every1 look at them . they hated that . they really dont like  being the center of attention.  some1 from their team asked "hey you ok?" they just said yeah. the coach said to run 4 laps around the gym. uh how much they hated running. they only did 1 and a half.(END PT 1) they couldn't handle 4 laps. while some1 was running they saw them hiding (so no1 can see them slacking off) they asked "um?? what's wrong ? ud probably get in trouble if coach finds out.  I'm already on my 3rd lap . ig in  3 mins its over. r u just gonna stay here? and also if u act like this it the match . you'll get in big trouble. they just said "ok". when the coach said ok! they went back in the gym and prepared the net. they started a sneezing fit which caught som1 to give them tissue. they eventually stopped . they're nose is so stuffy they can barely breathe.  they really want 1 more tissue but they don't have any , they ended up using their arm as a tissue. well atleast only 1 person saw. every1 was practicing.  it was gonna end it 10 mins . they're shocked how they went so far. when they setted the ball they suddenly felt they're stomach grumble. they cant just suddenly go to the bathroom.  they had to wait. uh they started feeling nauseous and they silently stared gagging.  then came the wet coughs , they could feel the vomit loudly.  end . pt1

(contin.) they had to fake spike? idk . they didnt have the power to do so. obviously they looked like they were faking it. they're team lost, they honestly didnt care . then some1 hit then on their back saying to,work hard. some vomit came up . they swallowed it . they thought it tasted so bad. they started coughing really loudly.  every1 was looking (they had to rush to the bathroom but since every1 was looking they didn't want to make a scene so they didnt ) they waited till every1 wrnt to they changing room /club room.  finally every1 besides 1 person who was a benched player went to the toilet . oh no. they cant wait that there was vomit coming up they wanted to wait for at least 2 mins , but they couldn't only 36 seconds.  they started to vomit .  in their hands . dripping on the gyms floor. they couldn't make it into a stall so they threw up in the bathroom floor. threw up already half of what they had. they heard the doors unlocking from the bathroom (it was the benched player) they rushed into a stall so he couldn't see them  . they walked out and saw vomit.  they didnt care , they walked out like nothing happened. they were still vomiting , they didn't have enough strength to propt themselves up to puke inside the toilet,  they just ended  up throwing up on the floor . they thought they were done after dry heaving for 2 minutes.  getting up to go to the changing room to change into their uniform.  they didnt tie their tie properly but they dont care. going into their classroom late. like 10 minutes late. they got scolded for wearing their tie wrong and being late.also not bringing hw. yay good for them this class they didnt do anything. so they just fell asleep /WITH THEIR MASK ON!// pt2done

while waiting they double bagged the plastic bags to prevent in from seeping thru. one the bus came. the sickie regretted going on already feeling dizzy once they sat down , they sat at the back where no1 sits (although that would make them more dizzer, but they didnt know that) after 5 minutes of the ride (there was some traffic. normally itd take 10 minutes. but since there is traffic they didnt how long they'd have to wait.) "[caretakers name]...while wet coughing.mm candy." they rushed to give the candy. it soothed their throat for 5 minutes until making them dizzy . lying down on the caretaker,while they play with their hair. they fell asleep. after 20 minutes (still in traffic) they woke up to the bus driving. they woke up and asked for water. they drank the water in small sips. they didnt vomit. the they drank it quickly before spitting it out. then coughing. they nearly threw up. swallowing it . asking while coughing for the 'bag'. they grabbed it and held on it and tried getting it out bc they were very nauseous. they couldn't. until the bus continued moving. they're grip to it was very weak. the bus suddenly moving made their stomach growl. and letting of their bag to hold on their stomach. the care taker asked "what's wrong ???? you let go... r u gonna ..." "no. stop.u will make me.stop.talking abt it"(they hated vomit so much thinking abt it makes them gag) the sickie was shaking. they messed up dropping the bag and it flew away. they caretaker getting their jacket just incase yk they vomit. after the bus stops again. a couple and a 2 ppl (4 alltogether)decided to sit in the back. their stomach hurts so much... they started crying. the bus started moving more . 2 more stops till their stop. they gagged. letting go of their hand on their face. "I'm gonna-" the caretaker getting the jacket and hugging the sickie to cover them . they threw up on the caretaker. the couple moved away in disgust whilst the 2 other ppl stayed. just on their phone. "ppl r looking...." "I want to leave.. " "''dont worry , no1 is looking'' the care taker grabbed their bag looking for a (idk the word but it's like a towel but not , you stick it on some1 face and it cools them down) they place it on the sickie. they sickie just dry heaving at this point. they said "sorry.." it's ok. - ¿ ¡ ૮₍ 𖦹 ˕ ×` ₎ა ! ? / 🧛🏻‍♀️ , which haikyuu character do you think this is? also very bad prompt :). again,not a request.

This sounds a lot like Kunimi to me, but I'm also getting Kita, Ennoshita, and Jin (Soekawa) from this. Maybe Yamaguchi too.

For Kunimi, his primary caretaker is the sweet but helpless Kindaichi. Kindaichi really means well, but he's terrible at taking care of sick people, so he just makes everything worse for Kunimi in the end. The rest of Seijoh ends up helping eventually, but it's just Kindaichi for a while, and he does not handle that well. Kunimi basically takes care of himself while Kindaichi stands in a corner muttering apologies. After this incident, Kindaichi resolves to be a better caretaker and starts doing research and taking first aid classes later on.

Kita's primary caretaker is Aran. He's much more competent than Kindaichi and takes good care of Kita for as long as the captain needs it. There isn't much to say after the incident because Aran handles everything so well.

Ennoshita is stuck with the other benched 2nd years (Kinoshita and Narita). They're okay caregivers but nothing special. Ennoshita is the most nurturing of their trio, and with him out of commission, Kinoshita and Narita do their best to help their friend. Ennoshita still has to do some things for himself, but Kinoshita and Narita can at least know the basics of taking care of someone, so Ennoshita still has it better than Kunimi.

Jin gets two caretakers too because why not. His caretakers are Reon and Semi. Both are very experienced with taking care of others and are the unofficial team parents, so Jin has it very good. He recovers pretty quickly thanks to the excellent care he receives from Semi and Reon.

Yamaguchi's primary caretaker is obviously Tsukishima. Daichi and Suga try to help too, but Yamaguchi gets panicked by anyone who isn't Tsuki, so Tsuki has to deal with basically everything. Tsuki also ends up calling Akiteru for help because he's just so out of his depth caring for another person. Akiteru, on the other hand, took care of Tsuki for years and is a wonderful caregiver. Yamaguchi recovers well with the comforting presence of his best friend and the lovely caretaking of Akiteru.

[paulamehy]

Back when I was younger, I did label things that I like and things I hate. Identified things that I thought I don't need and those I needed from what the society approves. And as I age, I realized that categorizing things only will lead you to disappointment because you can't always get everything that you like. Whether you want it to be part of your life or not, you have no choice but to accept that one's existence doesn't only consists of beautiful things.

And as I realized that, I became aware of my entity as well. I only binded my sight on something that gives light, I was so positive that everything that surrounded me was capable of dropping things that I hate without me knowing that it will become part of my life in the future. I despise myself for having that way of thinking.

As much as possible I want to be in a role where I'm the most loved by everyone. I remember in my childhood days, amongst my friends I always choose cartoon character that I knew had the greatest and biggest role in the show, character that was pretty, kind, lovable, friendly, cheerful and in the main lead. And in real life, I have tons of friends because I don't want to look loner, I show off my talents to make people embrace me as a special one, I'm cheerful up-front because it's what made me being remembered, and in a circle I wanted to be the main lead. I gained people and I want to be accepted by them to the means of flaunting every qualified aspects that I have and even some that I didn't have. And the fact that I did those only because I thought they're all I needed, and it's what the society said.

I was loved because I chose to be loved; because I chose to be happy.

But I slowly became conscious about myself. Realization hits me that I'm not pretty enough, I don't have perfect body, I do and I love weird things that people might find offensive and awful, I'm smart but I'm lazy, neglectful and klutz, I have lots of sexual fetishes and addiction that can't be accepted by norm if you're a female, I'm a sadist, I always had lewd thoughts, I'm sympathetic but sometimes it's done half-hearted, I'm aggressive, warfreak and manipulative. I'm overconfident that I can manipulate people and feelings towards me forever because I was able to.

Those rascal traits of mine were flaunted after years ago, and to suprised that there was someone who still accepted me for who I am. I was the happiest person that time and I believe that nothing in this world can ever replace those memories.

But this is not a romance journal.

Until the darkness that I never thought I'll encounter came out.

People are saying that it is one's choice if they want to be happy. I started to lose my sanity the time that I became self-conscious, I became so insecure and anxious and I always compare myself to others because I felt that I'm not enough and unworthy to extent of me being disappointed with myself.

Those "just be happy" kind of statements will never work out.

And because I'm studying Psychology that time so I have hints on what's going on with me. I had some short time dealing with mania and depressive episodes, or I'm being sad and anxious for awhile but always end up being fine because there's someone who's taking care of me and making sure that everything's alright. It really worked out for several years and I think that was already my happy ending that doesn't need to be extended with any other person anymore.

Sequels are unnecessary in real life.

However, I can't blame that someone for looking for another party to love because I sucked at being lovable, I knew that it's because he was fed up and been tired of understanding this thing that even me can't understand. I just hate myself and that everyone else is better than me.

Apart from that, my parents eventually got separated due to third party. And for me, it is understandable that the one just fell out of love. Is it? I can't think of anything else to feel aside from accepting the reality and move on and besides, they are still my parents. But it really hurts a lot, so much that I can't find any definition from dictionary on how to describe how I felt.

Anguish.

But I can't come to hate every single person around me. I never called it "betrayal" because in the end I still blame it to myself. I lost most of the important persons in my life together with my trust in everything. In those people who believe that it's not my fault, I somehow dug for the reasons why I should blame myself.

I believe that I was hit by karma because I've done so much filthy things for the past few years that I can never put into words.

I really can't help myself but to cry to sleep every night, overdid everything to escape the reality that I'm now alone and in this miserable state. I became detached with the things that I used to love before such as singing, writing, reading and drawing as all I did for living is to work.

I tried different coping mechanisms. I used different people, been used by different people. Been in a bar every other day until I lose my consciousness. Beaten myself to job and repeat. I often found myself in hospital or clinic due to fatigue and other sickness and I just cry as I pity myself.

That's when I realized that I've been clinging to other people for happiness to the point that being alone agonized me so much. I can't calm myself anymore because in the first place it's not me who is pacifying myself everytime I'm having horrible thoughts, considering that I hated my existence to death.

My depressive episodes gotten worst, I started cutting my wrist, face and legs to reduce the pain which I never did before, I also tried overdosing myseIf using my medicines but I only ended up being asleep for two days and been drowsy, I was so insane that I even went to different place and decided to drown myself, but I was caught up by the guard.

As expected, I was diagnosed with Manic-Depression/Bipolar Disorder 10 months ago, and in 6 months I was in the process of medication, been taking psychotic, antidepressant drugs and such which made me numb and apathetic up to present. Those who knew about my horrible situation were only my previous colleagues. I somewhat managed to hide this from my family.

Several months ago, I started to weigh down some things to refresh my mind. I tried to survive on my own. I quit school, I moved to different workplace, been independent, cut ties with other people and I started to change some of my coping mechanisms.

I thought that those are the best things to do, but I knew to myself that its only because I want to run away from everything. I've tried too many coping mechanisms and escape was only the last option. Inever regret those things that I did in the past, but I felt that I need to put myself together for a bit. I don't have any plans on making myself better neither heal myself from the pain. I'll just exist and to my job right for the rest of my life.

It's been 6 months since I decided to slowly compose myself, I can't tell whether I'm completely recovered or what and I don't want to be complacent. I'm still on the same track, my thought are still bleak, I'm not happy neither sad, I don't feel anything towards everything literally and emotionally probably because of the medicines I'm currently taking. I'm coming to work for survival, I only have 1 friend that I can talk to with regard to office stuff, I am not standing out with anyone, a lowkey. I'm not accepting any courting or flirting. As much as possible I don't want to involve myself in infatuation. I changed every single aspects, habits, beliefs and behaviors that I can, and unexpectedly I was able to attain 6 months of not drinking any liquor. It doesn't make any sense but I feel like testing myself again.

I also created my bucket list that I want to fulfill before killing myself. But I just hope that I'll die without doing any self-infliction as I don't want to make any sin anymore.

The only trait that I knew was good and that I can't change is me being empathetic. I understand people for doing things whatever the reasons are even if it affects me, hurts me and such. I had this trait that I wish I didn't have.

In the end I never blamed anyone or anything because it's my choice to be in this situation. I got swallowed by the dark path that I just encountered and I don't think I can do anything else.

I just never loved myself to begin with.

[hoopdiddies]

I'm Not Over You // Ben Hardy x Reader (Part 5)

A/N: Oh gosh, my stomach hurts. Question: Was it unlawful of me to pour the milk in before the cereal?

Anyway, enjoy part 5, I'll get to writing 6 by the time the bacteria in my digestive tract stop roughhousing uwu

Summary: You had always loved Ben ever since you two met in university and became the best of friends. That feeling went out like a candle flame when the two of you parted ways until he re-entered your life...but this time with someone who has already occupied his heart.

Warnings: Mentions of drinking and alcohol, angst, fluff and (jealousy?)

Word count: 3177 (oops?)

Tags: @mickmoon @ziggyspurplehaze I honestly need more people to permanently tag in this series, please let me know 😁

Part 4

Part 3

Part 2

Part 1

"What the hell, Y/N? Did you lose your way into the place?" One of your colleagues snigger at your delay in finding them. Eager to get this night done, you brush off his comment and pull out a seat next to him, finding yourself looking over where Ben is seated. Not a text or a call from him that would have 'warned' you that he'd be out for a drink in the exact same place you thought would help you eradicate 'that' problem. In hopes he wouldn't catch you or take heed of your presence, you turn away and participate in ordering your drinks, suppressing the urge to glance over your shoulder and blow your cover.

The waiter arrives with your orders and the rest holler in satisfaction as he distributes your drinks. You've ordered a martini but just because you decided to start with something light doesn't mean you'll stick with it in the following hours. It's just one night anyway, what have you got to lose?

Later on, Joe arrives at the pub alone, scrutinizing the place from top to bottom before marching in, straightening the collar of his button up shirt as his eyes rove every occupied table just to find you. To your demise, a large hand rests upon Joe's shoulder and spins him around, the hand belonging to an astonished Ben with a glass of whiskey in hand. "Mate! You're here!"

Joe's nonchalant expression flits into a surprised one at that, a little concerned on the inside since he knows you're here as well and he hasn't found you yet. "Ben, buddy! Great to see you again. " He throws an arm around Ben and pats his chest.

"You're back in London, what brings you here?" Ben asks, raising a thick, disheveled brow at him. Joe trails his bottom lip subtly with his finger as he debates on telling the truth or not, taking in account that you're here with your colleagues and nowhere did you mention anything about being with Ben.

But he just doesn't feel like lying to him, and so with a sincere apology reserved for you, he replies, "Y/N invited me over."

The crinkles under Ben's eyes fade out and he allows a stiffened sigh to slip past his lips with almost nothing more to add. "She's here?"

Joe nods as a matter of fact

"You two on a date?" The question sounds forced coming from Ben and Joe did not see that coming. He had forgotten that you had projected a fake relationship with him during Ben's birthday and now it came back hitting him like a mallet. He scratches the bridge of his nose awkwardly, avoiding Ben's scouring gaze. "Y-yeah, I gotta go find her, bud. We'll catch you later." In utter haste, Joe firmly pats Ben's shoulder before whisking past him to continue his search for you, leaving Ben standing a feet away from his own table, chewing over his thoughts. He snaps out and returns to his own circle, prompted to turn his head around the place to find you.

"Yes, I need another one of this!" You demand bluntly, slamming the seventh shot glass you've drunk from on the table but not hard enough to shatter it. You really stuck to your thoughts about intending to subject yourself to intoxication. Although it's not the best way to let go of everything that's bugging you, it was tempting. And besides, a little fun wouldn't harm you entirely, right?

Three out of six of you have indeed succumb to the influence of alcohol, and the sober half is trying to get you momentary drunkards upright, one of which is you who is getting real squirmy. "Y/N, I think you've had enough." Debbie, one of your sober colleagues, stop you from getting another shot.

"I think nooot." Your speech is becoming slurred as you prop your elbows on the table, grinning mindlessly.

"Please, this isn't becoming-"

"Let me handle her." A certain redhead volunteers from behind you, making Debbie's brows perk up as she suddenly recognizes Joe.

"Hey. Um, sure. She's had too much already and it's concerning."

Joe nods with a crooked smile and peeks at you over your shoulder with his hands positioned on either side of your arms. "Y/N, hey. You alright? "

You whip your head at Joe too quickly and end up headbutting him by accident. The both of you yelp at the impact but you recover easily, your droopy eyes widening a little as you recognize Joe, who's rubbing and squinching from the bump. "Heyyy, you're late." You giggle and pinch his pale cheek, leaving a faint mark.

Joe chuckles softly yet briefly and he sweeps your ends of your hair off your shoulder. "I'm sorry, got stuck in traffic."

"That's not nice."

"Look, Y/N, you're drunk. I think I may have to skip joining your 'party' and take you out of here." He says, worry filling his eyes but you whine childishly and slump on your seat, a pout on your lips. "I just want one more shot, just one more, no more no less."

"Y/N, come on," he looks down at you in all seriousness and is not taking any of that drunken stubbornness tonight. You angle your head to one side, eyes heavy and skin flushed from the heat produced by all the drinking, staring plainly at Joe whose expression could serve as a plea to you.

You sigh inwardly. "Nope."

To your inconvenience, your adamancy would now lead to something unwanted, something Joe reluctantly just thought of. "Okay, I might not get you to budge. Your boyfriend can't make you, right?" Joe presses his lips together and his brows arch teasingly. You shoot a rather lazy yet baffled smirk at him and he shrugs apologetically. "But your best friend might." He turns around and marches to get Ben but of course, being drunk, it takes a good minute for Joe's plan to sink in to your brain.

Not a minute later, he returns true to his word with Ben looking uneasy from worrying. He had to willingly excuse himself from Rosy and his friends to come to Joe's 'rescue'. Ben asks politely if the chair next to you is taken and Debbie shakes her head, gesturing for Ben to sit down. He does yet despite with him and Joe flanking you, you remain hard-headed, snapping your squint at Ben who's got his arm positioned on your shoulder. "Oh. What are you doing here?" You put a mean emphasis on your words.

"I didn't know you were here as well, but regardless, you're sozzled."

"So? That's my problem." The drunk sass could never be any clearer.

Ben sighs and glances shortly at Joe who responds with a clueless shrug.

"I don't want to comment on that but please, you need to rest. You've had too much. " Squeezing the side of your arm gently, Ben tries to reason out with you. You roll your eyes at him deliberately, sniffling as you flick a finger at him. "This is just one night. Don't act like you-" you trail off for split second, feeling your stomach boil as nauseatic feeling hits you like an omen. Joe takes notice of the abrupt discomfort on your face and asks. "Y/N, is everything alright-" Restricting him from finishing his question, you push Joe and Ben aside and sprint to the lavatory, miraculously pinpointing it in spite of your current incapability to make a beeline. Fortunately, the stalls are flat-out empty and you shove one open, flipping the toilet seat up and vomiting into it.

Joe and Ben excuse themselves from your table and scurry to the women's room, considering to look away in advance in case the room is jam packed with girls which is not the case as of now.

"Anyone here?" With his head turned away, Joe asks indecisively to which he doesn't get a reply, affirming the bathroom's lack of users, except for you. He and Ben saunter in and call out for you. You've slumped up against the door after regurgitating, overcome with fatigue and sweat. You hear their murmurs but you don't bother to fish for their attention, however your heavy breathing would give you away, which it has.

Ben knocks on the door you're against, cooing your name before falling quiet and hearing your uncontrolled breathing pattern. He nods at Joe and slowly swings it open, your tired body following the movement of the door as it creaks ajar to reveal you. Joe scoops you up on your feet as Ben drapes your other arm around his neck, allowing your weight to be equally distributed. "That's it, we're really taking you home." Peering down at you, Ben softly reprimands. In his eyes, you were never one to have this kind of excess overwhelm you. He always knew you for occasionally turning down invitations to drinks and now you've got him wondering what goaded you to drink heavily.

"I think I should take it from here, buddy." Joe suggests, shifting your body closer to his.

"Mate, she's really limp. I need to-"

"Temporarily. You need to get back to your table and your girl. She must be wondering why you've taken so long."

Ben mulls over it and the redemption he would have had for not finding the time to hang out with you. He's conflicted between leaving to accompany his fiancee and staying to take care of you. But Joe's the 'boyfriend' and to him it would be unfair. And so with a sad sigh, he removes your arm from his shoulder and tips your head back to clear your flushed face of hair, nearly planting a kiss on your mouth by mistake– however agonizingly tempting for a moment– and wincing as he draws back to kiss your forehead, hoping Joe didn't notice which of course he did, and he's trying his best to prevent a smile from twitching on his lips.

"Take care of her, mate. I just wish she'd tell me what's wrong." He frowns, smoothing his hair back with his fingers.

"She'll tell you on her own terms."

"I suppose."

Joe displaces you from your weak stance and you let out an incoherent mumble as he lifts you up bridal style in his arms. He hands Ben a small smile before exiting the bathroom and briefly approaching your colleagues to tell them he's going to be taking you home. Debbie nods and wishes him luck, allowing Joe to leave.

He sets you down in the passenger seat of his car and buckles you in, at the same time making sure you're comfortable. Meanwhile, Ben makes it out just in time for Rosy to interrogate him. "Where have you been? And whatever you did, what took you so long?"

He closes his eyes for a mere fraction of a second and shakes his head, the jerking motion loosening the strands of hair he had combed back. He tugs his seat out, wishing to not feel obligated to answer for once. "I was just helping Joe with Y/N."

"She's here?" Rosy asks snappishly.

"For a supposed date with Joe." He exhales disappointingly, nodding at one of his mates as he takes his glass up to his lips to drink away.

Rosy rolls her eyes at Ben's sudden change of demeanor, oblivious to the reason he's discouraged.

With you curled up in his arms, Joe struggles to grab a hold onto the knob of your door. He teeters aimlessly in a desperate attempt to clip onto his balance, you being quite fidgety in his arms making it uneasy for him. "Okay Y/N, we're here. Let me just get the d-door." He finally lays his hands on the knob and twists the door open, nudging it wider with his shoulder and stumbling in with you. You're pretty much still conscious albeit it's not your own, self-controlled state of mind. You're just getting there.

Joe pauses in his tracks as he feels you yank on his collar. "What?" He asks, voiceless.

"Where's...Ben?"

"Probably still at the pub. Let's get you on the couch. I'm gonna get you a cup of...something." Between each suppressed grunt, Joe lays you down carefully on the fabric, adjusting his waistband and excusing himself to get you something to drink. You drop dead on your side and curl into a fetal position, your eyes bleary and fluttering shut at the beckon of sleep. Shortly after whipping up a glass of lukewarm water and some Aspirin to relieve you of a headache to come, Joe comes back with the items on a tray, finding you on your side, dozing off.

A mildly satisfied smile lingers upon his lips and he lays the tray on the coffee table before you, going back to the kitchen to prepare a towel to dry your face of sweat. He returns once again with a basin and just in time for a knock on the door to catch his ear. Placing the basin next to the tray, he dusts his hands together and slides them downwards his shirt in the act of drying them, answering the door and finding Ben with arms crossed impatiently behind it.

"What are you doing here?" Joe leans against the frame, making out his visit to be utterly unexpected.

"I just...is she okay?"

"Yeah, she's fallen asleep."

Ben hangs his head low for a brief pause before shifting on his footing. "Mind if I get in?" Half expecting Joe to decline, he does otherwise, stepping aside for Ben to enter. He thanks Joe quietly and proceeds to find you knocked out real good on the couch. Softened by how angelic you look in your drunken slumber, Ben gets down on his knees before you, laying the back of his hand on your forehead to check whether you've caught the flu or something. Joe approaches his side with arms crossed. "She's alright, Ben. Might get a hangover tomorrow but really, she's okay."

Ben falls silent for a while as he continues to observe you, your delicate features causing a smile to pull on his plump lips. "It's crazy. I had to leave ahead of Rosy and the guys just to check on her."

"You're making it sound like a bad thing, bud."

"No," Ben heaves out an audible exhale, taking the free space at the end of the couch, "well, maybe. But my point is that I've been too busy for a week that I haven't been completely in touch with Y/N. I want to make it up to her. You wouldn't mind that, would you?"

Joe descends on the chair opposite of Ben, throwing his right leg over his left. "What do you mean?"

"You wouldn't mind me hanging out with her, for possibly a whole day, right? "

And with that, Joe gets the point. Once again, for the second time tonight, he forgets about the charade you both are still up to and it just really dawns on him oftentimes that you're in this pretend relationship with him to compensate for what you mistakenly said to Ben the other night. "Yeah, no. I wouldn't mind. But let me ask you a question. It may be personal but don't take it as an offense from me," Joe shifts on his seat, resting his hands firm on the armrest, "was there ever a time you felt something different towards her?"

As if looking back on something lost, Ben sighs and chuckles to himself, a chuckle enigmatic in feeling. "Mate, chill, okay? I'm just her friend."

"I'm not jealous. Just curious. In the time you've known each other, have you ever felt something for her at one point?"

Uncertain but obliged to answer, Ben interlaces his fingers together and talks just loud enough for Joe to make out. "Homecoming."

"Homecoming?"

"Yeah," he breathes out, stealing a quick glimpse of you and remembering how similar you look during that night, "I had another a girl with me that night but when Y/N entered the room...something just snapped in me. She looked...divine." Chuckling to himself, he blinks rapidly and continues. "I easily wondered why I didn't ask her in the first place."

"Well you should've, you clueless bastard." Joe grumbles inaudibly enough to go unheard and he's got a hand for that skill. Ben shifts on his end and presses his lips together, doing his very best not to stare at you long enough to anger Joe.

"By the way, mate. You're invited to my wedding." With the words coming unanticipated from Ben himself, Joe coughs harshly as a reaction, his eyes growing wider by the minute at the news. "Wedding- you've proposed?" He's trying his hardest not to shriek and wake you up.

"Yeah? I thought you- I thought Y/N had already told you."

"No she did nothing of the sort!" To make it more effective, Joe yells voiclessly, gesticulating at the same time. It stuns Ben for a second that you didn't tell him– Joe being your 'new confidant' and all– but recovers soon enough to make it more clearer. "Well now you know."

In Joe's mind, that's probably the reason why you've gone heavy tonight at the pub, and he's correct. It affected you the most, second being your departure for medical school. He was right for gaining the prospect that Ben was going to go for it the night you two had left his birthday early. Joe regains his composure and rises from his seat, ruffling Ben's golden locks which have been at their floppiest tonight, also finding it hard to utter the words in his head. "That's great, buddy. That's just...amazing." He couldn't even articulate 'amazing' without thinking of your reaction when you had known first.

Ben nods, his mouth twitching a tad, his voice cutting deeper and hoarser. "Thanks, mate."

Remembering that you haven't had dinner yet, Joe decides to have Ben look after you as he goes out to buy you something to eat by the time you wake up. Ben inclines to it, even if it takes Joe the entire night to get you food. Trusting you in his temporary care, Joe rubs Ben's shoulder and leaves him to it for half an hour at max.

By the second Joe closes the door, Ben gets up with the incentive and takes the damp cloth from the basin on the coffee table, tenderly sweeping strands of hair away from your face, his refined touch making you sensitive and shudder lightly on the couch.

He wipes your forehead and the warm contact of the cloth elicits a quick groan from your throat, the pout forming on your lips prompting Ben to grin ridiculously. He swallows and dares to lower his forehead onto yours with the cloth still in his clutch, the warm touch of his skin on yours sending a sensation through your unconscious body, bringing a lone tear to trickle down your cheek. He whispers to you in the frailest tone he hasn't spoken in in a while, squeezing his eyes shut in the process.

"Please, tell me what's hurting you..."

[raindrop-on-a-spiderweb]

Dear God

I have GREAT NEWS! I have internet (granted, crappy satellite internet) and I've been working on the next chapter of Ragnatela! It should be done within the next few days.

I had this young!Patience chapter on the back burner and didn't want to leave the AU unfinished 😰 sorry if it feels a little rushed. I'm not too happy with it.

***

Patience's legs knocked into each other as she backed up, reaching out to grip the side.

The tall, imposing figure of her adopted father loomed over her quietly, his eyes serenely dark in his face.

"Salvatore Mallozzi," he said slowly, as if tasting venom on his tongue. "And what reason could you have to be speaking with my enemy?"

Her mouth was dry. He gripped her chin and forced her to face him. "I started to trust you," he said, his voice dead quiet. "A year of living with me, and I started to trust you. Clearly that was the wrong decision."

She began to cry, and he shifted his thumb to wipe her tears away. It reminded her of the first time he had looked into her eyes, his thumb soft on her cheek.

His hand went to her shoulder, then lower, to cup her breasts through her uniform, and then to slide down her hips, teasingly stopping just above the waistband of her skirt.

"Your body is becoming more mature," he said softly. "Your hips, your breasts, your face. I can see you growing older. Everything except your womb, apparently. When will you give me a child? Are you... doing anything to prevent it?"

She was crying unashamedly now, as his hand tightened on her hip hard enough to bruise. "I'm not. Please, papa. I'm not, I swear. I don't know what's going on--"

At the sound of papa, his grip relaxed. She heard him sigh. "Do you not like living with me? Is that why you tried to call someone?"

She wanted to say I hate you, I hate living with you, I wish you were dead, but she knew she stood on a precarious thread, so she sobbed, "I do--I do like living here. I just--sometimes I feel like getting away from you. I can't help it."

He paused, and something in his face settled, his eyes taking a faraway cast. His face slackened. "I understand," he said simply.

He ruffled her hair. "Dinner will be ready soon. Afterwards, go upstairs and I'll brush your hair." She knew what the veiled meaning behind I'll brush your hair was, and it carried with it a resigned sense of doom.

***

Patience threw the baseball at the stone wall, and it made a thud as it hit. It bounced right back into her hands.

Mindless activities like this kept her mind off the realities of her life. She could do it for hours, repeating and repeating, her brain a dull buzz, until Leonardo would call for her. 

A hand caught her ball. "Shouldn't you be doing something more useful?"

She went to glare at the dark-haired, glasses-wearing visage of her second least favorite person in the world. "Give the ball back, Stefano."

"My daughter knew how to wash windows by the time she was half your age. The outer windows are filthy, why don't you get off your lazy bottom and make yourself useful to your father?"

"Give me the ball back!"

He threw it back, and she caught it to her chest. "I don't know why he bothers keeping you around. If I were him I would have dumped you off at an orphanage the first time you showed me lip."

Her eyes stung with tears. I'm not useless. I have a scholarship. She heard Leonardo call for her distantly, and turned to Stefano just as the sound of Leonardo's footsteps started to approach.

She kicked the older man hard in the shin. He squawked in surprised pain and clutched his leg, then recovered just in time to lunge at her just as Leonardo arrived past the grove of trees.

"What are you doing, Stefano?" Leonardo's sharp voice made Stefano let her go. "She-"

"Stefano said I needed to be taught a lesson about obeying you," said Patience loudly. 

"I'll be the judge of that, Stefano," said Leonardo, his voice soft yet icy. "It would be best if you took your leave."

Stefano's mouth was gaping like a fish, but he snapped it shut and glared at her before leaving. When Leonardo wasn't looking Patience stuck her tongue out at his back.

He led her inside where the staunch, tall figure of Giuseppe Benevento was standing with one hand in his pocket, the other carrying a carpet bag.

"Are you staying for dinner, Joe?" Asked Patience, using his English name. She liked Giuseppe. Well, she didn't really like him, but compared to Leonardo, Stefano, and the rest of Leonardo's "friends" he was much more tolerable. He would drive her to school sometimes when Leonardo or the chauffeur couldn't.

"I suppose I can. I'll be talking to your father late into the night."

Leonardo smiled. "Well, that's excellent. I know you love my spaghetti bolognese."

In the dining room, Patience sat fiddling with her napkin while Giuseppe smoked a cigarette, occasionally stubbing it out on a star-shaped marble ashtray.

"Your school is going well?" He broke the silence with one of his canned questions.

"I got a scholarship to New York University," she said listlessly.

"Congratulations. When will you be graduating?"

"Next year," she said. I'm never going to use this scholarship. I'm never going to go to New York University. I'm never going to leave here.

The polished wood walls seemed to be caging her in. Something inside her young brain told her she would live and die here, and that made her want to scream and cry.

She tilted her head to look at Giuseppe. He was large and gruff, and said little. He was Leonardo's deputy, his "underboss" and he did his job well. Very well. 

Maybe, she thought, maybe he has cracks in his exterior. Cracks I can worm myself into. He's a man, after all. 

"Are you married, Joe?" She said, pushing her chair back and crossing her legs under her short skirt. She subtlely shifted her skirt up her thighs. Leonardo liked it when she did that.

"Yes," he said shortly. "Seventeen years."

"That's a long time. You must be getting bored of her. Do you still sleep in the same bed?"

He looked over at her, and his forehead crinkled. "We--that's none of your business." his voice was flat. "Why do you ask?"

"Well," she said throatily, trying to sound like the lounge singers she saw on TV, "I make you... less lonely."

His frown deepened as he eyed her. 

She shifted her chair closer and touched his knee, sliding her hand over the rough cloth. "I can do things for you your wife never dreamed of. I know all about pleasing men."

He was frozen, eyes flickering to the closed door.

"With my mouth or--with any part of my body. I can be your Lolita." She thought back to the book she had read on Leonardo's bookshelf. She had to put it back when she was halfway done because of how much it disturbed and reminded her of herself. "All you have to do is take me out of here." She boldly gripped between his legs, squeezing and rubbing him gently.

"No," he said firmly, getting up and moving a seat away. She watched in him despair, her way of escaping firmly rejecting her. "You are my daughter's age. You are Leonardo's daughter. This is inappropriate. I--" for a moment something like regret and sympathy passed his face, but then it was gone to be replaced by his steely, gruff exterior.

"I'm sorry you feel this way. But I will not and can not reciprocate. Please don't make this hard for both of us."

A wave of shame washed over her. She stared at the tablecloth, tears in her eyes as she waited for Leonardo to arrive with the dishes.

***

"Christmas Party?"

Patience looked up from where she was chopping tomatoes. Her father wiped his hands on his apron and dumped the pork snippings into the the pot. "Yes. I've held it every year. You missed it last year because you weren't home with me, but this year I promise you'll be the belle of the ball. I'll tailor you the most beautiful, expensive dress. It will be so grand and opulent, you'll love it."

You missed it last year because you weren't home with me. Not, you missed it last year because you weren't living here. As if she had living there all along. Leonardo inexorably considered her role and home to be here, under his thumb, nowhere else.

"Okay," she said. Her mind had hardened during the year, become more calculating. This could be her way out of here. She couldn't give up, and it was becoming more important day by day while her womb was still empty. If she got pregnant, it was over for her. She was living on borrowed time.

***

The dress was mint-green and ruffled at the bottom, and square at the bosom. It definitely wasn't made to take advantage of her womanly curves (or what little she had of them). He had tailored it for her over several agonizing weeks, forcing her to stand as still as a ballerina as he slid needles inches away from her skin.

"Gorgeous," he said. "Matches your eyes." He slid his hands down her dress, cupping her bare shoulders. 

"I look like a little girl."

"You are a little girl. My little girl." He kissed her ear and made her shudder. "Are you ready?"

She nodded, still staring at herself in the mirror.

He led her out into a wave of noise, bright lights and chatter. For a moment she instinctively clutched his arm as a dozen eyes turned on her. "Oh, this must be your daughter!" Said a man with a lumpy nose, a dark-haired woman at his side. "I don't think I've met her yet."

"She's been focusing on school. She's a good girl." He rubbed her shoulders. 

The man beamed. "You're a sweet little thing, aren'tcha?"

Patience looked away. "Thank you."

"What a sweet girl. I can't believe she's your daughter," said a man in a fedora, cradling his cheek with a crafty smile on his face. She gritted her jaw. Adopted daughter. "Thanks."

"Oh, be more social, Patience," said Leonardo.

"Can I please get something to eat?" She asked, hating all the eyes on her.

"You may. But be gracious and kind and have nice manners."

"Yes, papa."

She scampered away, acutely aware of her role as the only girl in the ballroom. A cadre of portly mafia wives set upon her and pinched her cheeks, oblivious to her cries of "I'm sixteen! I'm sixteen!" 

With much difficulty, she made her way to the food table, where she plopped herself down to think.

A silver-haired figure, serving himself casserole, looked down at her. "Why the long face, Patience?" She recognized him with a scowl. Charles Sawyer was always skulking around their house. She hated how condescending he was, and avoided him as much as possible. "None of your business."

"Perhaps you should lie down." He had such a wheedling way about him, like he was talking to a little girl instead of a teenager. "Put some color in those cheeks"

Her cheeks, already red from being pinched, flushed harder. "Mind your own business!"

Sawyer clucked his tongue and moved on, and she resumed watching the crowd. She tried to name all the men she saw, but other than the ones who came around the house and who she saw Leonardo with, she recognized none of them.

She had distantly gleaned a sort of shadowy awareness of the structure of the mafia--there were sects, and they didn't always get along with each other.

Leonardo kept her isolated and protected, never answering any of her questions and leading her to occasionally learn what she could from eavesdropped conversations with his men. A certain family called Di Scarpetta always seemed to be causing them trouble.

She saw a flash of black hair, and froze.

Her head throbbed. No way. He can't be here. He can't--

The brown-haired girl jumped off the seat and ran into the crowd, heart thumping, eyes watering, pushing desperately, until the figure resurfaced in her sight. He was dressed in an elegant suit, talking to another man. The high collar of his suit wasn't enough to hide the livid scar on his throat. With his coal-black eyes and slicked-back hair, he cut an imposing figure, but Patience had never been so glad to see him. She hit him head-on. "Salvatore!"

He stumbled and stiffened, but when he saw her, his face went slack in disbelief. "Patience? What are you doing here?"

She was crying. "Oh my god. Oh my god!"

"Ciao," he said to the other man swiftly, then turned back to her. "Tell me, what are you doing here?"

"Leonardo Borghese is forcing me to live with him," she said, clutching his sleeves. "He does--oh, he does such awful things to me! Please, Salvatore, you must get me out of here!"

"Are you--are you that long-lost daughter he found?" Realization was dawning across his face.

"I'm not his damn daughter! I'm not related to him! He forced me into this, and you have to get me out of here, he wants me to do more for him, vile things--"

"Pazienza," said a liquid voice. "Are you making friends with Salvatore? How charming.

***

Salvatore hooked an arm around her shoulders, pulling her protectively towards him. "Leo Angelino. You son of a bitch. Stronzo! What the hell have you been doing to her?" His face was a mask of rage

Leonardo's face was placid, but he was standing entirely too close Salvatore. He said "Let's not make a scene here. All the families are here, a confrontation would--aggravate the atmosphere."

"Sick fucking pedophile," he hissed. "I should shoot you." His fists clenched.

"There are my men all around you, Salvatore," he said quietly. "Think twice."

Salvatore's eyes flicked around, and somewhere in his brutish subconscious something sparked. His grip on her slackened. "I'll be taking my leave early."

"Please don't go," she begged, clinging onto him. He unwillingly detached himself--not before giving her a comforting squeeze--and made for the door. She watched him go with tears in her eyes.

She smelled cologne as Leonardo shifted beside her. "Perhaps you'd like to go upstairs and rest, dolcezza." His voice was gentle, but had enough of a veiled threat that she obeyed immediately.

***

Alone in his (their) room, she shivered for hours until his soft footsteps echoed up the polished stairs.

He emerged from the door, dressed in his tuxedo, and when he saw her, he smiled. "Your hair is so messy. Let me comb it."

She shivered as he combed the tangles out of her hair, damp with sweat. His proximity made her mind rebel, want to run screaming. "You've been very naughty, dolcezza. Talking with Salvatore Mallozzi. Just what is your relationship, I wonder?"

She said nothing.

"Not going to talk?"

She squeezed her eyes shut.

"I have ways of making you talk, dolcezza." His arm curled around her neck, porcelain fingertips lightly brushing her skin. She shivered, but said nothing.

"Keep your secrets, then. I will find out about them in due time."

He stood up and loosened his cummerbund. His pants were loose, buckle undone.

"Sweet thing, let's celebrate Christmas together. We'll make a baby, a Christmas baby. We can name it Noelle."

Patience began to loosen her dress, acutely aware of him undressing behind her. It would be another night full of pain, a night that lasted far too long and left her crying and sleepless half the night.

The next few days were fraught with tension. 

Leonardo kept silent about her and Salvatore, never speaking of it. She detected an underlying tension in the house, but Leonardo kept cheerful, dropping her off at school, helping with her homework, and making dinner. 

For a moment, she almost relaxed. 

And one night, when her homework was done and she was watching a late-night program, Leonardo called out to her in his lyrical voice.

"Patience. Come here. I want to show you something."

Frustrated, she turned the TV off. She grudgingly tramped into the next room, and then the cigar room. It was richly furnished, with a glass liquor cabinet and velvet-upholstered furniture--she was very familiar with it.

In the middle was a man, being forced into the ground. For a moment her heart thrilled and she thought it was Salvatore--before he lifted his head up and he saw the wanness and softness of his face.

"Gabe?" She said, breathless with disbelief.

He looked at her, eyes not registering realization until it flashed in his eyes. 

Leonardo leaned back against the sofa, glass of liquor in his hand. A small smile teased his face. "Do you see what happens when you disobey your father, Pazienza? You should never contacted Salvatore. And now an innocent is paying for your mistake."

To her horror, Giuseppe, who was standing next to him, procured a knife and slid it around his throat. Patience tried to catch his eye, begging him for mercy, but he averted his gaze, something akin to shame in them.

"Give him a little cut, Giuseppe."

The silver knife sliced down, gouging a thin wound in the side of his cheek.

"Please not him! He didn't do anything! He has a family--don't--"

The knife bit further into his face, and he opened his mouth to wail. "Patience! Please help me! My Barbara--my Gina--I don't want to die!"

"Stop! Stop! Papa!"

"Papa, papa. I do love it when you call me that. But-" he leaned closer until his lips were right beside her ear. "We're going to be married parents before too long. How about you start calling me a pet name, one a wife has for her husband. "My mother used to call me Leonello, little lion,"

He was staring at her with a fixed, raw gaze.

"I'll do anything," she whispered. "Just don't hurt him."

"Leave us," instructed Leonardo to Gabe and his soldiers.

When they were gone, he turned to her with a wild gaze. "Leonello," she whispered.

A ghost of a smile flitted across his face. His eyes were lidded. "Good girl."

"Leonello. Leonello. I love you so much."

He was breathing rapidly now, the expression on his face one that she had never seen before. He gripped her waist and began to shove her down on the sofa.

There was a wine bottle on the table. As he pushed her down, she slowly reached for it, anticipating the crack of his skull. And even if he were dead, she would truly be free. 

As he settled between her thighs, her fingers closed around it. As he began to press kisses on her bosom, murmuring, "Mama," in a raw, childish voice, her hand closed around it, feeling the heaviness between her fingers.

A commotion sounded outside the door. As Leonardo lifted his head, she took the wine bottle and brought it down.

She was small, and her grip was clumsy, but it gave him a bash on the head nevertheless. He was knocked backwards, to the side of the sofa, and she scrambled up just a familiar figure burst in.

He was wielding a gun, hair in disarray and eyes wild.

"Patience," he barked. "You're coming with me."

She was so glad she began to weep. It was all over. Everything. Her nightmare was gone. "Oh, Salvatore."

"Get in the black car with my brother. We're holding them off, but I don't know for how much longer." He gripped her arm and pulled her forward.

As she left through the snow-covered yard, she heard the distant blasts of gunshots and shouting. A bullet whizzed by her ear. 

She jumped in a black car parked outside the gate. In the back seat, Gabe was white-faced and holding a bandage to his cheek. He turned his terrified gaze on her but still had the fatherly conscience to ask, "Are you okay?"

"I... I wish I was."

Salvatore jumped in the driver's seat and gunned the engine. "Let's get the fuck out of here!"

Patience cried silently as they left through the cobblestone road, her eternal nightmare behind her as they left the walled fortress behind her, the shouts and gunfire fading into the distance. Every mile they traveled, they came closer and closer to heaven.

She was free. She was with people who would protect her.

Patience caught Gabe's gaze, and he had the presence of mind to squeeze her hand. "It's all okay, honey."

She began to weep harder then, tears of happiness.

She was leaving the house behind. The torture, the fear, the pain, the misery, all of it was disappearing into the rearview mirror.

Patience Winslow was safe. And it was the strangest, most alien, loveliest feeling she'd ever felt.

She let her head fall sideways onto Gabe's shoulder, and tears of exhaustion began to leak out of her closed eyelids.

***

It wasn't until she woke up in Barbara's house a week later, nausea bubbling up in her stomach, that she felt something was wrong. 

When her small nipples began to get tender, the horrified suspicion mounted. 

And when she finally missed her period, she knew, inexorably, that her nightmare had come true.

[cloudylovemuses]

Arcade (2)

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader, past!Natasha Romanoff x Reader, past!Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes, Wanda Maximoff x Sam Wilson

Summary: It's time for you and Bucky tell Sam and Wanda about your decision. Also you need to talk to Nick Fury and talk things out, hoping for the best.

Author's Note: Sooo, I tried to right a small chapter for the time gap between my first and third chapter. It's a bit awful and lazy, next week week (I'll give a lil spoiler) we'll meet the house and the neighborhood. I wasn't feeling really good to write something more, but hope you like it.

(1)

It's been 5 days since you accepted Bucky's offer, to start a new life with him. At first you and Bucky where discussing where will you live. You suggested to buy an apartment at Brooklyn, but he rejected the moment the suggestion hit the table. He didn't want to be back to the place where he grew up. He didn't want to return to his past. Didn't want to start his new life based on how he used to live.

"Can we have a house with a big kitchen? Ohh Buck, it'll be really nice to have a huuuge kitchen and try so many recipes freely, with so much space to work on." You said dreamily while standing on your elbows to watch Bucky. He turned his gaze from the ceiling to you with a smile in his face.

You were in his room daydreaming about your future life. You're laying next to him being excited about your plans. He laughed and pulled you out of your thoughts. "What? Why are you laughing?" You smiled at him.

"I'm just thinking that if Sam watched us cook with aprons. We wouldn't hear the end of it." He laughed.

"Oh my god, you're soooo right. He'll tease us 'till the day we die." You both laughed again and you suddenly stopped and gasped.

"OH MY GOD, SAM!"

"What about him?" He questioned, confusion covering his face.

"We need to tell him that we want to leave." His smile left his face and his eyes dropped to his hands. Even though the two boys were always fighting, they were the closest and best friends. Bucky didn't know how Sam would take it.

"We need to talk to him." He finally said.

"What? Like, right now?"

"No I think he is already asleep. Tomorrow morning. The sooner the better!"

"Yeah, yeah, you're right." you sighed and curled to his side.

"He won't be very happy, will he?" You both returned your gaze to the ceiling a worried look on both of your faces.

"I don't know, doll. I don't know."

~~~~

The next morning you knocked on Bucky's door, still worry over your features. He opened slowly having the same emotions as you. "Ready?"

He softly sighed "as ready as I can be."

"We have to, Buck." You took his hand on yours and pulled him out of his room.

"I know, I know." He sighed again and you started walking towards the living room.

"Sam!" You shouted and he popped his head from the couch.

"Hello Cinnamon, hello Tinman. What's up?" You giggle at your nickname while Bucky glared at him. Sam liked to call you Cinnamon because you putted cinnamon everywhere, from aromatic candles to coffee dressing.

"We um...wanted to talk to you about something." You said hesitantly.

"Of course, what is it about?"

You moved further and sat down next to him and Bucky sat behind you, staying close to you. "Me and Bucky were thinking umm...we were umm...thinking..." You nervously said playing with your fingers not wanting to look into his eyes.

"Guys. You are worrying me, what's wrong." Sam said worry all over his face.

"No, no nothing is wrong...we just kinda thinking..." Bucky trailed off and then you took over.

"Me and Bucky were thinking about to retire and live a normal life." you stated with one breath closing your eyes and opening them to see a bit confused Sam.

"What do you mean?".

"Sam, we won't lie to you, we're both really tired of this Avenging life. And after our losses we are falling apart more and more. We appreciate all your and Wanda's help, but unfortunately is not enough. We are trying really hard to recover. But all this fighting is keeping us behind. Reminds us -and most certainly me- of the past. We can't keep living like this. We LOVE working with everyone here but it's not doing us any good. We would really, REALLY, appreciate it if you at least consider our retirement and talk things out with Fury."

You were staned by Bucky's words. You didn't expect him to take control of the conversation. And it was a really happy surprise.

"Wow, Buck. I forgot you could talk so much" Sam laughed. "Guys, I understand that your mental health is not stable and of course I noticed your struggle at your latest missions. I'll admit I was thinking to tell Fury give you some days off and retirement hit me like a truck." You both looked at his smiley face, when he turned his gaze behind you and you saw Wanda, who was coming slowly and was smiling too.

"I told Sam that you two needed some time off. But if you feel more comfortable with retirement we are both going to support you." she said while sitting next to Sam grabbing his hand into hers. "Also, let me tell you, I'm gonna help to convince Fury to give you what you want." She smirked, that knowing smirk which said yes, I'm going to manipulate him for you.

You were nearly in tears. You didn't believe that they accepted your decision so quickly and without hesitation. "You guys, you don't know how much this means to us." you teared up, standing to hug them both.

"Thank you so much. Both of you." Bucky said softly trying to keep himself from crying.

You pulled away and looked into their eyes. "When are we going go talk to Fury?"

"How about tomorrow?" Wanda questioned.

"Ok, tomorow then." Bucky said.

"Shall we go make some dinner? I'm starving!" Sam whined and you all laughed.

"Let's go" Wanda laughed and dragged you all to the kitchen.

After two burned steaks, 1 burned apple pie and somehow a burned salad from the boys, who wanted to show off to you, you and Wanda took over.

The dinner was so peaceful. So beautiful. They were your family and you really loved them. So much.

"Oh, guys, have you decided were are you going to live?" Wanda asked at some point.

"Y/N told me about her grand-grand mother's mansion in Magnolia Springs. She said that it's very big for two people, but it'll be big enough to build spare rooms and rooms for us to spend our time. I haven't saw it yet, but I trust her."

"Wait. Did you just say 'build'?" Sam said confused.

"Yeah well I thought it'll be nice to create a home with our hands." You answered.

"It sounds really sweet, but what about the money?" Wanda asked.

"Stark left to much money, for us to use. So we think its the best way to use them." Bucky said.

"Yeah, Tony left a lot money to everyone and I still don't know why." You giggled.

"He's dead and he still makes us happy."

You all smiled at that and fell into silence. Memories from Tony making you all smile. Bucky smiled on the stories you all said about him. His smile fell from his face. He wanted to say he is sorry. For his parents for the mess he created between Tony and Steve. Oh, how much he wanted to apologize.

"Um, I'm finished does anyone want desert?" Bucky asked after a while. You all raised your heads and looked at him.

"Yeah, I do. I'm coming to help you." Sam said and they both left for the kitchen.

"Are you sure?" Wanda asked a minute after the guys left.

"For our decision?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, yes I am. Bucky is an amazing guy and he is in the same boat with me. If we start over together it will be just a little bit easier."

"But sharing a home is a lot more than a start over, you know that."

"Wand me and Bucky are friends and we can do this. This will just be an adventure for us. We'll have fun, building our own house. Living a new life. Sure it'll be sometimes a little difficult, but we'll do this."

"I'm happy for both of you. I believe in you. And me and Sam will help you with what ever you need." She reached for your hand and held it.

"Thank you Wanda."You smiled at her. A smile which turned onto a smirk after a moment "oh and since you mentioned it. What's going on with you and Sammy?"

She left your hand and blushed like crazy. "Nothing, we're just friends"

"Yeah, yeah I believed you now Wands" you laughed.

"Shut up" A crimson color took over her cheeks and you laughed again.

-Meanwhile in the kitchen-

"Bucky, are you sure you wanna do this?"

"Yes, Sam, I'm 100% sure." Bucky sighed, cutting a big slice of cake for you.

"I mean you two don't know each other so long, to start a life together." Sam said with a concern voice. Bucky dropped slowly the knife and his head. But he immediately looked at him again.

"Sam, I trust her. She's been there for me in ways I couldn't even imagine. She never gives me an apologetic smile or looks at me with pity eyes. She is comforting in her own way, and she helps me when I need it even when I don't ask. I don't say that you or Wanda don't help me, it's just...she is...She's different and I like it. She makes me feel good."

"If she makes you happy, of course I won't get in the way. I just want to make sure that you're ok with that decision. I want the best for you bud." Sam admitted softly patting Bucky's shoulder. Bucky turned and hugged him tightly, not letting Sam breath for a bit.

"Ok, ok I need to breath now please." Bucky let him go and they both laughed.

"Ohh, bird brain I didn't ask you before." Bucky smirked without looking at him.

"What's it this time Tinman?" Sam rolled his eyes and said with an annoying voice.

"What's going on with you and Wanda?"

Sam choked on air while Bucky hit his back, still smirking.

"Nothing's happening."

"Yeah, yeah sure bird brain."

"Fuck off, asshat"

"Idiot."

"Let's go the girls are waiting."

They came after a while with four plates of chocolate cake. Your and Wanda's favorite.

"Here you are ladies." Sam excitedly said.

"Thank you boys" you smiled at both of them and continued your lovely night.

The dinner was over and you all were at your rooms waiting for sleep to take you. When a soft knock at your door, caught your attention.

Bucky opened further the door and whispered, "Doll, are you asleep?".

"No Buck, come in." He closed the door behind him and took small steps towards your bed.

"Hey" he waved at you.

"Hi" you chuckled.

"Can I please stay with you tonight?"

"Of course you can Buck." You pushed your covers and he laid beside, pulling up the blanket.

"Doll, am I the only nervous for tomorrow?"

"No, not really. I think I'm a bit nervous too. I mean we are going to tell Nick Fury that his last two super soldiers are going to retire and they're going to live like two farmers but yeah, no I'm not THAT nervous about that." You joked and he let a heartful belly laugh, that made your stomach feel weird, in a really good way.

"Yeah, way so nervous? It's so normal!" He laughed again and you followed.

"Seriously now Buck, Fury won't be happy. I'm slightly afraid that he'll refuse to retire us."

"Honestly, doll? I don't know what will happen tomorrow. Part of me hopes for the best but another part is just pessimistic."

"What will we do if he says no?"

"We'll see." he sighed.

"Ok" you said a lil' disappointed.

You curled closer to him and moved your gaze from the ceiling to his face. He found your eyes and spoke again softly, not wanting to disturb the peaceful silence, "come here, I don't mind." he smiled.

You pressed your body on his and wrapped your hands around him. He hugged you too and put a soft kiss on your head.

God only knew how much you both loved to be on each others embrace.

~~~~

When morning came, the nervousness came along with it. All your mind was thinking about rejection and Fury. You almost cried when the time for the meeting arrived.

Bucky came to your room to take you and went together, sharing some of the anxiety.

Before he opened the door, Bucky hugged you tightly and you hugged him back the same. You breathed and opened the door.

You greeted Fury and moved to sit down, next to each other, not wanting to let go the others side.

"Mr.Wilson informed me about your thoughts and decisions and of course the state of your mental health, and I have to say I'm surprised that you want to do such a thing together."

You looked at each other with a smile at your faces and a giving an actual loving gaze, and turned to Fury again and said and awkward yeah.

"So, where did that came from?" He said and confused you.

"What do you mean, sir?" Bucky said.

"Where that idea came from? How did you think such a thing? What brought you to that decision?"

"We just had a conversation together, after a tough night and we realized we can't do it any more."

"We want a new life. Bucky is really tired fighting and holding a gun on his hands and I'm really tired fighting too. But we don't have a problem helping whenever it's needed."

"We have a lot to discuss." Fury said with a frown.

After 2 hours and a lot convincing Fury agreed. He said that he will first check the house, the neighborhood, the neighbors' past, just to be sure. He said that he'll put Friday and a security system in the whole house. You hadn't disagreed of course. He also said that you'll get paid for whatever job you do for him, you'll still be his employees no matter where you live or what you do.

You didn't really care what jobs he'll give you eventually, you just wanted to live as far from this life as you could.

When you signed the papers, Fury dropped his serious face and said "I'm really proud of both of you" and left.

You turned and looked at Bucky, who just smiled. You smiled back at him and left, to start making plans for your new house.