#jbbnnmhamchallenge
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SUNBEAMS & RHYTHMS || STEVE ROGERS; BUCKY BARNES
pairing: Steve Rogers x blind!black!reader x Bucky Barnes || word count: 5,414 || warnings: mentions of depression, mentions of anxiety, mentions of insomnia, mentions of suicidal/dark thoughts, mentions of surgery/side effects of surgery (seizures/medications), smut, sex, threesome (m/m/f), polyandry/polyamory || challenge: @jbbarnesnnoble mental health awareness month writing challenge - “the warmth of the sun fell over you like a blanket in the middle of winter.”
author’s note: this was such a great challenge, but please heed the warnings! we’re dealing with some sensitive issues in this one. I hope you guys like, and I also hope that I’ve handled this correctly! this is my first time writing a disabled reader. let me know what you think please :) and thank you all so much for all of the love since I've been back from my little hiatus! major inspiration from this post. I’m also getting used to a new laptop, so if there’s any weirdness in this post that’s why, lmaooo. okay, I'm done talking, enjoy!
The room is shrouded in darkness - but not that you’d notice anyway. Your body is covered by the thick duvet thrown over the bed, your face buried in your hands. A splitting headache forces your eyes closed, but you’re used to them. The headaches. They started a few years ago, out of nowhere - you just thought it was stress, or, maybe not getting enough sleep at night. You didn’t pay them any attention at first.
They got worse. They got to the point where you couldn’t get out of bed. Your vision would get blurry. Steve suggested a doctor - you said no, it’s just a migraine. You’d be fine. He insisted after a few more months went by, and your headaches got worse, your vision worse.
You still remember it like it was yesterday. You sat there, stunned into silence. Your whole body numb. Steve grabbed your left hand, Bucky your right, as the room started to spin - the doctor's voice fading away as she spoke. Brain tumor. It was so large now that it was pressing on your optic nerves, making you slowly go blind. Within months, purples and greens and blues and pinks were all replaced by nothing. Not even black - it was just nothing.
The last clear thing you remember seeing were the tears in Steve’s eyes and Bucky’s metal arm thrown over your hip as he held you tight. You had to squint to make everything out, but Steve’s eyes were shiny - cloudy - as the emotion trickled down his cheeks. You wiped them away slowly with your thumb as you tried to etch his face in your mind so you’d never forget it. You wanted each line, each crinkle, each little freckle to be ingrained in you. You’d already spent hours staring at Bucky, doing the same.
You made them smile - soft ones, toothy ones, lopsided ones, just so you could remember them. Both men obliged, although Steve clearly couldn’t stuff his grief and anger down as well as Bucky could. Bucky was angry with him at first - telling him to stay strong for you. Surgery wasn’t going to be easy, mentally, emotionally, physically - they needed to stay strong for you. You told him not to be so hard on Steve. You were all dealing with the death - of the person you were, your relationship as it was - he was allowed to grieve.
You woke up from the surgery a few days later, tumor free, but almost completely blind.
Everything was just different from that point on. The medication after the surgery did a number on you. The steroids made you irrationally angry and agitated. Insomnia kicked in, you couldn’t sleep for days on end, so they prescribed you a sleeping aid. You couldn’t tell if it were day or night, so on top of the insomnia, your circadian rhythm was fucked - more medication. Your balance was off, you were confused more times than you weren’t, you had a seizure or two - bad ones.
That’s when the depression seeped in. You missed who you used to be. You were fun. You were wild - that’s how you ended up in a relationship with two men in the first place. You had a great laugh. You couldn’t hold your liquor for shit, and you had a great sense of style. You loved everything and everyone and now, you’re just a shell of that person. You end up laying in bed most of the day, days on end, as dark thoughts swarm around you, consuming the last spots of light you have left.
You’re a burden to them, Steve and Bucky. They’ve both had to leave the team, not wanting to be far from you in case something happened. Steve turned his shield over to Sam immediately upon hearing the news. Bucky stayed on for a while longer but wouldn’t leave the country, until even that was too much for him. He’s been home full time for a few weeks now.
The headaches now are from the new crippling anxiety and stress that you live with constantly. You don’t bother to put on anything but old t-shirts and sweats because, what’s the point? You can’t even remember what your favorite clothes look like. One afternoon, in a fit of rage, you pulled every article of clothing from the hanger and made Bucky tell you what color it was before you threw it away. You could only imagine him standing there, his hands on his hips, his head down, his voice low as he rattled them off - red, pink, yellow with white polka dots, navy blue and white stripes.
Between the irrational anger, the headaches, the insomnia, the feeling that your floundering - sinking just below the endless, dark water - you just want to give up. You just want to close your eyes and float away. Make it all end.
You hear the door slide across the carpet as it opens, and then heavy steps before a massive weight presses into the mattress. The duvet starts to shift but you grab it, stopping it from sliding off of your head and groan loudly.
“Bucky,” you whine, “Please don’t.”
He chuckles, “How d’you know it was me?”
His body wash. You used to laugh at the differences between the two of them - like day and night almost; but their juxtaposition is what made them, them. Bucky always went for earthy tones; rich - scents and colors alike. Naturally, his preferred body wash was heavier than Steve’s, distinctly masculine. Steve always liked a hint of sweet.
“Baby,” Bucky’s voice is soft and airy, “You gotta get up.” You don’t respond. You draw your knees into your chest as you feel him shift behind you, “Come on baby. We have a surprise for you.”
“I don’t like surprises.”
You can sense the smile on his face. He shifts again and suddenly you feel those metal digits slide up your spine. Slowly, slowly, slowly, they creep along your back and up to the back of your neck where he scratches at your hairline. You hate how short it is, your hair. You were natural before, took the utmost care of it. Steve helped you shave it off before surgery. Now, between the medication making it brittle and quite frankly, the lack of care you have, Steve helps you keep it short.
You let out a breath as Bucky’s large hand sweeps over your head, cupping it underneath the duvet before his digits find your ear to pull gently, playfully on the lobe, “Please? For me?”
You sigh. You let him pull the duvet away from your face. You start to blink quickly; jump slightly when you suddenly feel his lips on your cheek. You’re still not used to it yet, your senses aren’t - they’re getting stronger, you just have to trust them. You can hear your therapist's words like she’s sitting in the room with you. You relax though, when his cheek rubs against yours as he wraps your body up in a tight hug. You even smile a little as he kisses down your neck and along your shoulder as he rubs your hip.
You reach for him, finding his chin with your fingers. The short hair that grows along the bottom half of his face is prickly - sharp. You walk your fingers along his jawline and cup his cheek as he moans into the crook of your neck.
“Where’s Steve?” You ask softly.
“Packing up the car.”
You roll slightly onto your back, blinking at the nothingness as your fingers still move along Bucky’s face. You raise your second hand, sliding it along his left cheek, feeling him. You push your fingers over his lips, tracing them as you try and figure out what he’s feeling. Your hands move upward, over his nose, up to his eyes where you feel the crinkles on either side of them. He’s smiling; it’s a big one.
“Steve is really excited.” He says.
You picture an excited Steve. The light that fills his brilliant, blue eyes, the whiteness of his toothy grin. God, you miss his face, “Where are we going?” You ask after a moment.
There’s another kiss pressed to your cheek before he sits up, gently pulling your arms with him, “That’s the surprise.”
You let him pull you up to your feet. There’s footsteps again, coming down the hall, “Buck,” Steve says.
“She’s up.”
You turn your head in the direction of the door, dropping your chin to your shoulder, listening as the steps draw nearer. You close your eyes again and let another small smile spread on your lips when you feel soft fingers, Steve’s fingers, start to massage your shoulders. He kisses the back of your head and then your temple.
“Feelin’ better?” He whispers.
“Not really,” you answer honestly. You’ve never lied to them, there’s no use in starting now.
Silence drops over the room. You’re sure that they’re exchanging a quiet conversation, their eyes bouncing back and forth between each other, “Guys?”
“Still here,” Bucky answers, “Hands up, let’s get you dressed.”
You oblige, lifting your arms over your head as he pulls his old t-shirt away from your body, “I can dress myself.”
“Just let us help you.” Steve says gently, his hands slipping into the sides of your sweats to push them down your legs, “You know we’ve always liked pampering you.”
That they have. It’s been a long time since you’ve let them. Their hands feel familiar but yet different - you weren’t really paying attention to the feel of them before. Now that it’s all you have, the feel, you notice the difference between the two of them. Steve’s hands are a little softer than Bucky’s, but he hasn’t worked in over a year, that’s what you suppose anyway. Punching people and gripping various guns and knives are killer on the hands.
Once you’re stripped naked, Bucky places your arms back by your sides. You feel Bucky’s hands (his are calloused still) on yours within seconds, then, a slick material against your fingers.
You squint, “Is that a bathing suit?”
“It is. Your favorite one. Remember what it looks like?”
“The blue one?”
“With the polka dots.” He presses it into your palm, letting you feel it, “The strapless one, that sinches in the middle of your chest.”
You smile a little as you run your fingers over it. The stomach is cut out, the waist high. You liked it because it made your ass and your boobs look incredible, “I love this one.”
He kneels in front of you, grabbing your hand and placing it on his shoulder as Steve places his hands on your hips - steadying you, in more ways than one. Bucky lifts your left leg by your ankle and helps you step into your bathing suit, then moves to the right foot, sliding the soft material up your legs. Once his hands reach your waist, Steve takes over, grabbing the suit and pulling it up the rest of the way, up over your chest. He kisses your neck as you adjust the top over your breasts.
“Thank you.” You offer gently.
Steve pushes your hands above your head again and slips something soft down your arms and over your head. Bucky grabs it and pulls it down your body, adjusting it slightly as you place your hands on your chest - feeling it. It’s a cover up, the white one you think; the one you got on your vacation in Maui. It has a stain on it. Steve knocked over the bottle of red wine the three of you were enjoying as the two of you danced on the patio of your ocean front room, Bucky watching you with a small, happy smile on his face.
“I like this one,” you say more to yourself than to them, “It makes my legs look long.”
“Your legs are long.” Steve chuckles, “Come on, shoes now.”
Once you're fully dressed, Steve takes your hand, starting to guide you towards the door. You slip out of his grasp, taking a breath, “I can do it.”
It’s thirty seven steps from here to the kitchen. That’s when you make a right and take fifteen more steps to make it to the garage door. From there, it’s five steps to the car, unless it’s backed out into the driveway - then it's between twenty two and twenty seven steps, depending on just where it’s parked. You’re getting the hang of things, no matter how much you hate it.
You feel them hovering behind you as you walk but they both respect your boundaries, letting you navigate the house without intervention. You slide your hands along the side of the car to the door handle and pull, the old door creaking just a little. Bucky isn’t much of a car guy, but Steve? This 1967 Chevy Impala was the only thing he and Tony could talk about without fighting. Steve gushed over it every time the three of you had dinner with Tony and Pepper. Then, one day, it was parked in front of the house with a simple note from Tony shoved underneath the windshield wipers - Capsicle, much like your face, I can’t stand to look at this any longer. Enjoy.
You slide into the seat and within seconds feel their thick bodies enveloping you, squeezing you between the two of them. The seat rumbles against your back as the car comes to life, the engine and mufflers loud as… you lift your hand to the shoulder on your left and run it the length of his arm, down to his wrist, gripping slightly as you go. It’s Steve, his arms are just a tad longer than Bucky’s you’re coming to find; more vascular.
You squint as the car backs down the driveway and the sun hits your face. You lift your hand, blocking the rays as you start to fumble around in front of you. You’re surprised at how sensitive your eyes have become to the UV rays. There’s a hand on yours, then your glasses pressed into your palm, the fingers not pulling away until you unfold them and slip them onto your face.
“Good?” Bucky asks.
You nod, “Good.”
The windows are down, the warm breeze whipping around you, caressing your skin. The radio is turned up - Dreams by Fleetwood Mac - as you drive. Bucky hums softly, his metal fingers linking with yours, his lips pressing against your temple every now and again. Steve taps along to the beat with his fingers against your bare, exposed knee before he squeezes it gently. You smile as you start to relax, Steve’s words coming back to you. Just let us help you. You know we’ve always liked pampering you.
You drive for a while, over an hour maybe. Then, the car slows as you turn and stays slow, creeping almost, like Steve’s looking for something. The car turns again and comes to a stop a second or two later. The engine dies, the two buff bodies shift away from you as the doors pop open. There’s a tap on your right shoulder. You reach out and feel on the forearm until you find a hand, Bucky, before he grabs tightly and helps you out.
“I’m gonna help you, okay?” His voice is soft as he rubs his chin against your shoulder.
“Okay.” You answer. You turn your head to your left and blink quickly, anxiety starting to rush through your veins from the unfamiliarity of your surroundings, “Steve?”
“Right here, baby.” His voice is soft too. You feel his fingertips brush along the inside of your left wrist, just to assure you he’s close, “You’re okay. I had to get the bags.”
Bucky slips his arm around your waist and keeps your hand in his as he guides you. You count each step. Bucky narrates every move - that you are in a garage, just about to enter a house. You’re in a small hallway, seven steps before a left turn, then you’re in the kitchen. There’s an island to your left, a kitchen table with four chairs on your right and if you keep walking straight, you’re in the living room. He lets you feel your way, reaching out to touch the walls, the backs of the chairs, the island, as he talks.
You stop when Bucky stops, and then hear something slide open before the sounds of water crashing fills your ears. You’re back outside, the warmth of the sun falling over you like a blanket in the middle of winter. A hand slips down your calf and wraps around your ankle before your foot is lifted and your shoe removed. A broad smile covers your face. You haven’t been to the beach since the diagnosis.
You take a step forward once you’re barefoot, one of them grabbing your wrist quickly, “There’s steps, babe.” Bucky says.
“How many?”
“Six.” Steve answers, “Here let me-”
“I got it.” You say dancing your fingers over the railing and taking small, cautious steps until you feel the first step, “I got it.”
They’re hovering again. You can’t see it, but Steve has both hands extending out on either side of you, ready to catch you if you stumble. Bucky jumps the railing entirely, landing softly in the sand and rushes to the bottom step, his eyes on you as you move down them slowly. When you step into the hot sand, your smile grows - if that’s even possible. You wiggle your toes as the grains slip between them and the waves continue to crash not far from where you stand.
Steve and Bucky keep their small distance from you as you walk towards the ocean’s edge, knowing you're close when the sand changes from loose and dry to stiff and wet. The water washes up over your feet, the smell of salt fills your nostrils, the random calls of seagulls both near and far ring in your ears. You grab the hem of your cover up and pull it over your head, discarding it onto the ground without a care as you move deeper into the water - a new purpose, new life flowing through your veins.
You don’t feel them hovering anymore. You guess they’ve both stopped at the water’s edge, soft smiles on their faces as they watch a wave crash into you, making you stumble. You laugh, loud and carefree, as you fall on your butt, the strength of the water pushing you around slightly. You don’t know it, but Bucky’s smile widens and Steve’s chin trembles as they watch you find a meaning again.
Tilting your head to the sky, you run your wet hands over your head before you wrap them around your legs, bringing them into your chest. You let the sun beat down on you. You let the water wash over you. You let the tears come. You let them slide down your cheeks and fall into the water. You let the ocean carry all of your tears, sadness, anxiety, and depression away from you and out into the abyss. You don’t want it back.
You lay out underneath the sun for hours, making peace with yourself, becoming one with the sand, water, and sun. Steve and Bucky keep a watchful eye until you call for them. Then, and only then do they approach, hands and fingers and lips all over your damp skin. They lay with you, staring up into the sky and calling out the shapes of the clouds. They play with you, splashing water in your face and pinching and tickling your sides as the three of you laugh loudly. Wildly.
You feel like yourself again.
When the sun sets, and the breeze rolling off of the water turns chilly, making chills run through you and bumps pop up on your skin, the three of you head back inside. Door dash brings you a quick dinner, which you all inhale before heading back into the bedroom to bathe. Bathtubs are rarely big enough for the three of you, but you always make it work - sitting in Bucky’s lap, your back to his chest, Steve at the other end.
Steve shaves your legs slowly, dropping kisses on the inside of your ankle as Bucky massages the shampoo into your short hair. Bucky taps underneath your chin before he pushes his index finger into it softly, tilting your head back. He pours warm water over your hair, sweeping his hand through it to push the suds away. Just let us help you. You know we’ve always liked pampering you.
You stay in the tub with your boys until the water runs cold. You’re wrapped up in a warm, fluffy towel, Bucky rubbing his hands up and down your arms trying to warm you up as you shiver and laugh at yourself. A song starts to play from somewhere in the house, slightly muffled as the sound passes through the walls and down the halls. Dream A Little Dream Of Me. The duet between Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong. Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes were long replaced by Captain America and The Winter Soldier by the time this version came out, but they love it all the same. It reminds them of home, they tell you.
You’re suddenly crushed against one of them - Steve. You know this because you run your hands along his chest to his shoulder, not feeling the jagged, deep scar where Bucky’s flesh meets metal. He grabs your small hand and places it to his chest as he sways with you, back and forth, turning in slow circles as Louis croons.
Stars fading, but I linger on, dear
Still craving your kiss
I'm longing to linger till dawn, dear
Just saying this
Steve spins you away from him and Bucky finds you, wrapping you up in his arms - an arm slung around your waist, fingers spread against your naked back as he holds your hand. You melt into him, humming softly as your toes brush against his, the soft sounds of your feet pushing along the hardwood floor beneath you adding a natural soundtrack.
Steve’s hands find your shoulders from behind. He presses his thumbs into your flesh as he squeezes and rubs slowly, his lips peppering your jaw and down your neck, “You’re so tense, baby.” He whispers.
“Depression will do that to you,” you chuckle, your new humor darker than what either one of them are used to. You feel them both stiffen at your words, hear a sad sigh from behind you, “Sorry. It was just a joke.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Bucky says, “We want to know what you're feeling, good, bad or indifferent. You don’t have to joke with us.”
You take a breath. You rest your head on his chest and start to chew on your bottom lip, “I know.” Your voice is small.
Defense mechanism.
You fight the urge to cry. Your eyes start to water, your skin starts to flush with heat, your jaw gets tight. Steve grabs the back of your neck gently as he kisses your shoulder blade gently, just wanting you to feel him. Bucky keeps dancing with you as the tears start to fall, cupping the back of your head in his large hand as he pushes his lips to your forehead.
What is it your therapist says? You aren’t in this alone, or something like that. You never believed her, or those words - until right now. Right in this moment. It’s been a year of self imposed loneliness. Dark thoughts accompanied by even darker impulsions of wanting to slip underneath the water and never resurface. Fear and anxiety telling you that you need to push away - they’ll both leave you one day for a resemblance of normalcy again.
They haven’t.
They won’t.
The days have turned into weeks, have turned into months - and here they are. Slow dancing with you in the moonlight as Ella Fitzgerald plays through the walls. Bucky wipes at your cheek with his thumb, pushing the emotion away. He nuzzles his cheek against yours as you reach up and scratch at the nape of his neck to calm yourself, “We aren’t going anywhere, doll.” He whispers.
“We promise.” Steve adds on.
You let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding. Bucky tilts your head towards his and without a warning, his lips cover yours. Soft. Commanding. His velvet tongue massaging yours as Steve bites down on your shoulder.
The sheets of the bed are soon mangled and twisted, pillows cast to the floor as you writhe beneath Bucky’s heavy body. Your leg is thrown over his hip, your fingernails dig into his thick flesh, the tips of his long, soft, dark hair brushing over your face. You have your other arm draped over his neck as his hips push into yours, driving himself deeper and deeper into you. Your mouth hangs, as does his - lips brushing against each other, hot breath washing over each other's skin as you push your foreheads together.
Steve waits patiently, although his fingers dance over your breasts, his palms brushing over your nipples before he palms your skin. He squeezes and gropes before he sends his hand down your stomach and to your clit to rub gentle circles against it as Bucky pummels you. He’s on his side, his nose and forehead pressed against the side of your face, his bottom lip between his teeth before he nips at your jaw and chin.
He tears your hand away from Bucky’s body to grab his hard length, dragging your palm with his, down his shaft. He’s so warm. His tip wet from his arousal.
It’s been a long while since the three of you have made love. It’s been a long while since you’ve felt beautiful enough too. You hadn’t realized how much of your self esteem was wrapped up in your hair until you had to shave it off. You also weren’t sure if you’d like it the way you used to - handle it with the same confidence you once had. Not being able to see them - see their hard muscles and their strained faces while in the throws of passion. That’s what turned you on.
Not anymore.
It’s the way you can tell them apart without having to see them. It’s the feel of their bodies now, not the sight of them. How rough and dominant Bucky’s hips are in your darkness, how sweet and loving Steve’s touch is. Their sounds; both deep and desperate for you. How the sounds vibrate against your ear drums and skin, moving through you - the illicit response your body has to them - the sounds.
You slam your head back into the pillow as Bucky pulls out of you. You pant and moan as you arch your back from the mattress as they shift around. Steve’s lips, you know their Steve’s because they’re rushed; always rushing, rushing, rushing like he’s still a man running out of time, push against your stomach, light kisses moving down to your sex. He bends your legs back, your feet dangling by his ears as he nibbles on the inside of your thigh.
Bucky grabs your hand just as Steve pushes his nose through your folds and sucks you into his mouth. Bucky moves your hand down his hard stomach to his pulsing hips. You wrap your hand around his warmth and feel him pump up into it, a little grunt falling from his lips at the same time.
Steve hums as his tongue swirls around you, flicking and lapping at you as his index and middle fingers push into your cunt. You buck your hips into his face, using all of him, his chin, his lips, his nose to cop a feel as he sucks on you. He releases your flesh with a loud smack - then drags his wet mouth the length of your thigh, up to your knee, and along your calf as he sits up on his knees. He extends your leg, resting it against his chest and shoulder as he sucks your manicured toes into his mouth, his large hand caressing your calf.
Bucky growls as he sucks your taut nipple into his mouth and wraps his metal fingers around your throat. He then kisses your mouth, hard and desperate, moaning into you as he continues to push his hips into your warm hand and against your side. He squeezes, gently, slowly, causing you to gasp just as Steve pushes into your wet, slick, swollen cunt.
You groan into Bucky’s hot mouth as Steve starts to move. His thrusts are softer, gentler than Bucky’s - always have been. He keeps your leg curled over his shoulder, his lips peppering kisses along your ankle and calf, his other hand and fingers gripping your thigh. The cool metal of Bucky’s fingers skip over your hot skin, down between your breasts and to your stomach before he flattens his palm against you, pushing down to add some pressure.
Bucky bites your bottom lip, pulling softly before he lets go. He nuzzles back into the side of your face, the stubble on his cheek cutting across your skin. He wraps his hand around yours that still pumps his cock and glides it slowly up and down, up and down, up and down as he moans into your ear; heavy, hot breath caressing your neck and the side of your face.
Steve hits a spot; your toes curl. Your hips jerk - your muscles tense. Fingers begin to massage your clit, slow, slow, slow circles to draw out the sensation. Teeth nibble at your ear lobe. Fingers glance across your skin. Mouths and lips take turns on yours. Steve drives his hips harder and faster - pushing, pulling, pushing, pulling. Bucky breaths fire laced words, provoking you, prodding you, coercing you to just let it all go…
You shatter. It consumes every bit of you. Physically. Emotionally. Their hands and fingers are everywhere, gripping, pinching, holding as you come. Steve pulls out of you - he always liked to watch you come, how your sticky, swollen sex convulses with each contraction from your orgasm, your clit jumping. He pushes his fingers back through your folds as he pushes his cock inside of you again, also loving the squeeze.
You feel hot, quick bursts of silk, over and over, splash against your stomach. Bucky groans with each, right up against your ear, the sound vibrating through your entire body.
Heat then blooms inside of you - Steve. Your muscles constrict around him, pulling each warm, thick ribbon of cum from him, coating your walls. He pushes deep and grabs your hand, placing it right in the middle of his chest so you can feel his muscles tense and flex as he comes. Feel the soft rumble of the grunts that vibrate through his chest. Feel his heart.
He collapses beside you, your body bouncing against the mattress as his weight pushes against it. The three of you are nothing but heavy breaths and balmy skin. Eyelashes resting against your cheeks as your eyes close with the recession of your lust. A head rests on your chest. You lift your hand and slip your fingers through the tresses, finding them short and kind of wispy - Steve.
Metal fingers curl within yours, a sturdy leg thrown over your thighs. A hand splays across your chest. Lips connect with your shoulders and jaw - fingers massage and scratch at your scalp softly. It’s all a blur. The haze won’t let your brain try and figure out who is who; but maybe that’s the point. Maybe it’s what you need. You don’t need to know. You can let go some of the control that you’ve been so desperately searching for.
You inhale deeply; and let out the breath you’ve been holding for over a year.
Your delicate fingers are lifted and pressed against hot lips - each digit receiving a kiss before being placed on a chest. The thump thump thump of a heart beat drums against them. You let out another breath as you nuzzle into their heavy bodies, soft I love you’s passing back and forth. There’s a faint skip of the record player down the hall. The soft whoosh of the breeze playing with the open curtains that cover the windows. Three bodies huddled in the center of the bed; just breathing.
In and out.
In and out.
In and out.
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Broken
Pairing: Steve Rogers X Ex-HYDRA!Reader
Word count: 755 words.
Summary: You couldn't help but feel guilty about what HYDRA forced you to do in the past, you thought you didn't deserve to be happy or have someone love you, until you met Steve.
Warnings: Sadness (I promise, is a happy ending), Reader is an ex-HYDRA agent, mentions of smut, nothing explicit.
A/N: This is my entry to @jbbarnesnnoble 2nd Annual Mental Health Awareness Month Challenge 2021 with the dialogue prompt #6:
“ Everyone’s got broken pieces. Some have more, some have less. It doesn’t make you less of a person or a bad one to have those a part of you.”
Thanks to my beta reader @saiyanprincessswanie
My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistake, please let me know and I will correct it.
I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics be posted in other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and is not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.
My other media where I publish: Wattpad, Ao3, ffnet.
If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.
Tags: @sinceimetyou @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae @harrysthiccthighss @marvelatthisone
Rainy nights always make you feel nostalgic as they remind you of the day you managed to escape HYDRA. Although you didn't like to talk about what happened before with anyone. The past was just that, in the past.
However, it had been a few years since that day when Steve had saved you from that nightmare. He was the only one who wanted to take a chance and believed in you. The others though weren’t sure they could trust you and often they would avoid you any chance they could. This made you feel that you did not fit in among everyone.
You took a sip of your drink as you sat away from everyone else. Personally, you didn't know anyone, but you weren't interested in getting to know them either. A few minutes later Steve approached you, your eyes looked up at this tall, handsome man. A sigh escaped your lips and your body relaxed at the sight of him.
"Are you bored?” Steve asked as he smiled warmly at you.
“I have never liked parties. They make me feel… I don’t know, I can't explain it. Stark insists we have to attend these things. I would rather do other things.” You smiled, sometimes you didn't know if Steve talked to you because he found you interesting or out of simple courtesy.
"How about we go somewhere that’s more entertaining than this place,” Steve suggests.
“Oh, where would that be?” you ask innocently, even though you knew what he was getting at.
“You are just gonna have to trust me,” Steve proposes while offering you his hand to help you stand. Your hand slips into his as you both leave the party. Any place, in your mind, would be better than that boring party.
You woke to the sun filtering into the room and the soft snores of a certain super soldier asleep beside you. Quietly you got up and dressed before you had to make awkward conversations with him about last night. Grabbing a pen and paper you scribbled a note to him, leaving the note on his bedside table. Hopefully, he would understand the reason why you had left so abruptly after an intimate night shared between Steve’s sheets.
Quietly you walked down the hallway trying to avoid running into anyone, let alone talk to them as you made your escape. Just as you reached the main door someone grabbed you by the arm wrenching you backward. You turned slowly in their grip and to your surprise, it was Steve looking at you with a frown on his face. How did he reach you so fast?
Steve let go of your arm and sadly looked into your eyes. “I read your note. You know, everyone’s got broken pieces. Some have more, some have less. It doesn’t make you less of a person or a bad one to have those a part of you,” he gently spoke as he caressed your face.
The tears began to gather in your eyes as you softly whispered, “Steve. I don’t think...”
“We can start a new life, anywhere you want. I don't care what happened in your past. Your past doesn’t define who you are. Who you are now, is the woman I want to be with. I love you,” he confessed.
His words surprised you as you tried to wrap your mind around it. “But I don’t deserve your love.”
Steve cupped your cheeks, his thumbs wiping the tears from your face. “You deserve my love and so much more. Nothing else matters except you and me. It’s cold out here, let's go back to bed and I can show you just how much you mean to me. Then tomorrow we'll talk to Fury so we can leave here together and do everything you've always wanted.”
Slowly you nodded and let him guide you back into his room. In your mind, you were finally understanding that he didn't care about anything you did in the past. Steve didn't care what others thought because he was in love with you. All he wanted was to make you happy no matter what he had to do. There was no doubt you could trust him. As the door closed, Steve captured your lips in a slow but passionate kiss. Today they would focus on showing each other how much they love one another. Steve would prove to you that you deserved the world and so much more. Tomorrow would be the start of a new life together.
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I would lie and say you’re not in my mind.
Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Stark!Reader
Type: Angst.
Summary: Reader finds herself alone, with no explanation as to where Wanda went. And life without her was a true nightmare she could only scape with not-so-nice coping mechanisms.
Wordcount: 2644
Warnings: Drug abuse, one suicidal thought and depression.
A/N: This is my submission for @jbbarnesnnoble writing challenge! I’m so sorry for the delay. Life and work got in the middle, leaving me drained to get some actual writing done. You can search this and other works with the tag #JBBNNMHAMChallenge which deals with different types of mental healt, as to raise awarenes about it.
A/N 2: Since it’s inspired in real events, I decided to twist this and give it a happy ending. People need to know there is hope. No matter how hard life becomes, you’ve got this and you shouldn’t suffer alone. Fight your fear and seek for help. I promise, life is worth living.
A huge than you to @marvelfansince08love for enduring her patience with my rants and mini meltdown about this monster. I could never thank you enough for puting up with my dumb ass, boo. I owe you a lot! <3
If you guys want more, I might have a plot for some kind of spin-off for this story. Just let me know. Also, criticism is welcomed.
"Miss Stark," one of the executives called your attention. "Your nose is bleeding."
Automatically, your fingers found your nose and yup, it was happening. Fucking hell.
Excusing yourself, you left the conference room with rapid steps to the closest bathroom, dismissing whoever you crossed on your way. You weren't new to this, after all.
Once you got the bleeding under control, you inspected yourself in the mirror. The reflection staring back at you was nothing like your old self. The circles under the eyes needed much more concealing and your smiles were forced. But at least you picked a black blouse today, which it'll do until you got a chance to go back home and change.
"Are you sure you don't want to go home?" Julia asked sheepishly.
"No. I'm capable of handling the rest of the day," you mumbled as you finished the last touches to your make-up.
"Mr. Stark could find-"
"Mr. Stark will find out shit," you cut your assistant. "This is just a sneeze that caused a vein to pop. Understood?" You could see how the woman in front of you shivered slightly and you almost laugh at it. You've become so pity.
"Y-yes, Miss. Is there anything else I can do?"
"No." You inspected yourself in the mirror once again before walking out. "Go over the rest of my day and make sure you send the informs to Stewart."
Fortunately, the day progressed smoothly with very few bumps. And none of them were about you, so you took it as a victory.
Kicking your high heels after closing the door behind you, you started to strip while walking towards the bathroom. The weekend was finally here, which meant you could wind out and enjoy your own company. After the latest events on Beto's, you made sure to lay low for a while. You didn't need another clingy bitch hanging from you all the time. You were just a gal wanting to have some release. Nothing more, nothing less.
In the middle of your calming bath, the sharp razor you kept for emergencies caught your eyes. 'God, it'd be so easy.' You thought to yourself. Just a little line in the right place would do it. The consuming pain would disappear and you'd be free. Hell, maybe you'd find her again in the afterlife.
Before you could continue the line of thoughts, your phone rang with your dad's personalized ringtone. Something you made sure of for when you were doing not-so-nice activities.
"Hey, dad." You absentmindedly sank deeper in the tub. The bubbly water covering up to under your jaw.
"Hi, Peanut." Tony's voice soothed your damaged soul the littlest bit. "It's been a while. How are you?"
"I'm fine," you answered nonchalantly. Lying has become second nature by now. "Living the life. How are you guys?"
"That's what I called you about. Pepper and I want you to come to spend the weekend here. We barely see you outside work so we thought it'd be nice to take advantage of the long weekend. Pleeeeaaase? With a cherry on top?" He finished in a child's voice and you felt your heart squeeze itself.
Truth was, you were tired of lying all the time. You were tired of faking and saying you were okay when you weren't.
"Okay," you sighed.
"Yay!" Yup, he was a child. "We'll get your room ready. We'll have your favorite."
You didn't know the exact moment you started crying, your dad going a mile a minute talking about his latest invention and how he'd love for you to help him figure out the last touches.
Hanging up, you finally let out the awaiting sobs. Memories of an easier -and happier- time plaguing your mind, making it harder and harder to breathe. Life without her sucked balls.
After drying yourself and throwing on a fresh pair of pajamas, you quickly fixed your bag for the weekend, knowing fully well you'll wake up with just the right spare time before you had to leave for your dad's.
The next morning, you woke up before your alarm went off, which would be fine if it weren't for Wanda appearing in your dreams. Promises of a better life and reaching milestones together, fanning the painful fire in your heart.
Walking to your stash, you retrieved the white powder, forming three consecutive lines on your nightstand. A small straw between your fingers ready to be used. You wouldn't be able to consume when you were at your dad's, so you better took your chance before it was too late. Odin knew you needed the boost.
Stopping at a random café a few blocks from your home, you quickly got yourself a black coffee and a muffin before hitting the pedal once again, changing the playlist to something more upbeat.
Soon enough, your mind drifted to the impromptu road trips you'd do with Wanda. Sometimes even a week-long trip. Just the two of you apart from the chaos of your lives.
Out on the road, it was only laughs, music, and fast food with the occasional make-out sessions. God, if you could, you'd live in the past forever.
Stepping out of your car, you couldn't help the smile that broke your face. Working in the same place as your dad didn't mean you've got to see him every day. And being honest, you were happy he offered you scape from her curse.
"Hi, dad." You answered once you reached him, returning his hug. And boy, didn't you felt safe in those strong arms. They never failed to soothe you.
After what seemed like hours of walking around your dad's property, you and Pepper came back to the house ready for a refreshing iced tea. But any trace of a nice calming bath dissipated away when you say your dad standing in the middle of the living room, his face stoic.
"What's this?" The quietness of his voice freezing your blood.
"I'm waiting, Y/N."
You cringed at your dad's voice. The disappointment showing in his eyes made you regret not checking before you grabbed a random bag for this trip.
"Look me in the eyes and tell me this is not what I think it is," he begged, showing you and Pepper the almost empty baggy between his fingers. And you ignored him. He already knew the truth, after all. "Say it," he growled.
"So the bleeding nose-"
"Screw you," you muttered, cutting Pepper mid-sentence.
"Hey! That's no way to talk to her,"
"You know what?" You walked to your dad, looking up to his eyes. "Yes, I'm an addict. Good job, Sherlock. Now you can get rid of me as you did with my mom. After all, you never wanted me in the first place, so why should it matter." You snapped with burning tears in your eyes. "There's no need to keep faking it anymore." You walked away, leaving them mouth agape, trying to process your words.
Plopping down on your bed, you couldn't help the feeling of failure igniting inside you. The tears in your eyes burning your eyes as they appeared, flowing down your cheeks as the sadness and emptiness became just too much to handle.
You didn't remember when was the last time you were genuinely happy. And it sucked that it depended on someone. It sucked and you despised it more than anything. But then again, Wanda was everything you'd need to live in this world. Always positive, with a smile so bright that could light up the darkest room. Her eyes? God, you loved losing yourself in those green orbs of hers in the afterglow. And now you had to live without all these little things that made you happy. All the little moments of joy were gone, tuning you into this sack of bones and flesh, with no expectations for life.
It wasn't till much later that night that you left your room, after ignoring your dad's callings.
Padding your way to the bar, you served yourself a whiskey. The burning on your troat a welcomed feeling. Your mind going back to her, as it was the normalcy since she dusted away, leaving you with thousands of questions and a hole in your heart that you knew well you could never fill again. How could you, when you knew she was it? how could you even try to patch it up, when you knew there was no one else like her?
One whiskey turned into 5 and you didn't know when you started to cry, considering you thought there were no tears left after all these years. But the strong hand on your shoulder made you snap from your pity party, hurriedly drying your tears. Crying was for the weak, and boy were you weak.
"I'm sorry," you drowned the last of your drink before looking up, mustering the best stoic face you could.
"You don't need to fake around me, Peanut. We're family," your dad poured you another drink as he got one himself.
"Look, what happened with your mother has nothing to do with you." He continued once he sat beside you. "And I would never leave you alone, Y/N. No matter how many headaches you give me." He joked but composed himself when you didn't react to it. "I- Pepper is pregnant. And we really want you in the baby's life. But.. Look, if there was a way to bring her back, I would. In a heartbeat. But Y/N, you have to understand, she wouldn't like this version of you. If not for yourself, do it for us,"
You wanted to speak, you wanted to answer him. But the lump in your throat was too big to swallow and the knife in your heart twisted when you saw your dad's eyes tearing up. And fuck did it hurt. To see him cry -for the first time- pained you like hell. And knowing you were the cause of those tears made you feel like you were the worst person alive.
"I-," you paused to gather your bearings, but your dad beat you to it.
"I know, Peanut," his arms surrounded you in that way that only him could.
"I promise you," he continued once you broke away. "One day, it will get easier. Those feelings will never fully go away, but it will get easier." He dried your tear-stained cheeks softly. "You are not alone. And she'll always be with you,"
And despite the grief eating you from the inside, you knew you had to live. For them. For her.
The next few months had been a true rollercoaster. You didn't know the abstinence would affect you so badly. And while others would have it much worse, you couldn't help the change of moods and the few tears you caused to those around you. Not to mention, the significant drop in your moods. But you also knew better. You've kept your word, and you hadn't touched it again.
Under Natasha's supervision, you got rid of every secret stash you had at both, your apartment and your office, and you deleted the number of your dealer. And even if sometimes it seemed like hell would manifest itself as Nat was your watcher, you couldn't be more glad because, admittedly, the woman had balls and she did knew how to bribe you, to the point that you'd even quit drinking even if it was more of a social addiction, in your case. That, mixed with Natasha's friendship and support -as well as those around you- and the birth of Morgan, your little sister had you believing once more, even if you knew you'd never get to be the same person you once were.
The little bundle of joy had come to this world with a few rays of sunshine for you, finally opening your eyes and making you realize that there was hope. Even if you never saw her again, life was worth living and you'd live it for her at your best capacity.
So when Pepper asked you to babysit Morgan for a few days, considering she couldn't bring a 2 months old baby with her, you accepted in a heartbeat.
But as you were awoken by a fussing Morgan, after an eventful night in which you barely slept, you realized this might've not been your brightest idea.
Inhaling deeply, you got up and walked to her room, picking her up from her crib and rocking her as you made your way to the kitchen. Babies were a fucking clock. Which only served to add to your decision of never having kids.
If you were on the verge of tears most of the time, wishing deeply for her parents to come back so you could have time for yourself, you knew you'd be mental if you had to live through this for the rest of your life.
Your ears catching the front door opening made you stop mid singing, turning around as you walked to the hushed words as you feed a calmed down Morgan just to stop dead in your tracks when you saw her. The only reason you stood still, was the baby in your arms.
Your eyes scanned the room, looking for a sign that this was just a dream. That the image of your girlfriend was just a projection of your mind, like so many other times before during these 5 years since she disappeared from your arms. But the silence surrounding you all and 8 pairs of eyes inspecting you made you realize that this wasn't a dream.
The cries of Morgan took you all from your reverie and soon, Pepper was by your side, taking the baby from your arms before kissing the top of your head, something she always did whenever you felt unsettled.
"Peanut-"
"Is she real?" You questioned as you scrutinized a fidgety Wanda, who stood by the door, ready to run away if needed.
Natasha could sense your turmoil growing with every single second that passed and soon enough you felt a strong pair of arms supporting you, ready to catch you if you fell.
"She's here, Maliska. We brought her back," she spoke quietly, making sure you understood her words.
The wild thoughts on your mind got you walking towards her. The need to touch her and prove yourself that she was back, got your fingers itching. You could feel the blood running in your ears and you shaking steps as you got closer to who you thought was gone forever, leaving you empty and moving through life like a zombie.
The choke that broke through you when your hand cupped her cheek got you smiling as tears rolled down with every erratic thump of your heart.
"You're here," you whispered, afraid of breaking the spell you've found yourself into.
But you couldn't stay in that thought for long because an intimately familiar pair of arms surrounded you as Wanda threw yourself at you, hiding her face on the crook of your neck.
Feeling her hot breath against your skin was all you needed to finally give in and hold her with all you had, knowing that she was here; with you.
You didn't know how long you both stood there, holding each other and basking in the calmness that surrounded you. All your previous tormenting thoughts dissipated in that exact moment. Wanda was back and you found the hole in your heart start to fill itself.
"Hi, Printsessa," Wanda murmured against your neck, kissing her way up to your jaw, peppering your face with kisses before she finally kissed your lips. And boy, did your knees trembled.
After 5 long years, the lips you've got used to kissing whenever you pleased were once against yours, igniting all the love and hope and good things you got to feel once upon a time.
You can find the continuation, here (:
Taglist: @summergeezburr @wannabe-fic-reader @natasha-danvers @jumbojamba47 @rooskaya-yelena @sananabdliw @aaron-despair @username23345 @nate-the-dreamer @higherfurther-romanova
#wanda maximoff x reader#I-#lkhfkjgfkjgaf#my writing#jbbnnmhamchallenge#mental health tw#feel free to scream at me
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Moksha // Fernweh Collection
Moksha (n): Liberation, absolute freedom in every way
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Type: Challenge // One-Shot // Fernweh Collection
Word Count: 3,028
Summary: At Stephen Strange’s suggestion, Bucky travels to Kathmandu in search of peace. Before he finds it, he finds you.
Warnings: spirituality, mentions of god, mentions of death and cremation
A/N: This leg of our journey came to be thanks to @jbbarnesnnoble’s Mental Health Awareness Month challenge. Thank you for highlighting such an important topic! And big big thanks to @samingtonwilson + @nacho-bucky for looking this over and being my gut check.
Prompt: This Song Saved My Life - Simple Plan
Sitting there with his back straight and eyes closed, Bucky is trying to breathe through the floor from his spine.
He’s not really sure what the hell that means, but he’s trying to do it anyway because that’s what the instructor told the class to do.
He’s supposed to be quieting his mind, finding a still point in the hurricane, but the waves crashing violently against the walls of his inner thoughts are distracting.
And so is a room full of chanting people, as it turns out.
It’s uncomfortable. He still isn’t accustomed to keeping his eyes closed around this many strangers and it only intensifies the anxiety he’s feeling. He peeks an eye open and steals a glance around the room, wondering if the other students are at all rocked by the same storm he’s in.
No. They look calm. And Bucky nearly loses it.
Every morning for the past week has started this way. He rises before the sun and walks across the ashram for morning meditation. Slipping off his shoes at the door, he enters the room and finds his usual place on a mat. Hair tied in a knot atop his head, he crosses his legs and closes his eyes.
And then…
Nothing.
Whatever inner-peace Stephen Strange thought Bucky could find by coming to Nepal has remained ever elusive. Instead, his mind is cluttered with old memories and sporadic thoughts. Like whether or not it’s even possible to breathe through his spine. He isn’t calm, he’s on edge.
Until he catches you looking back at him.
Then he’s embarrassed.
He immediately shuts his eyes because he realizes he’s been caught.
This is the first time he’s seen you at the yoga retreat. Even if you weren’t so beautiful, he’s sure he would’ve taken notice if he had seen you before. He’s kept a careful count of the residents of the ashram as they have come and gone.
You are definitely new.
The look was quick. Barely a glimpse. But it’s enough to fill Bucky’s head with visions of your smirk while he’s supposed to be meditating. The hurricane of nightmares recedes and is replaced with the playful twinkle in your eyes.
The purpose of finding clarity and tapping into a deeper sense of self is lost for this particular session. It ends as quickly as it began and Bucky’s eyes burst open in search of you, but you’re already gone.
Passing through a small grove of jacaranda trees with blooms violet and lavender, Bucky quietly retires to his solitary cabin on the edge of the property. It isn’t much, but it’s home for the next few weeks.
Recognizing the stillness, he wonders if he should try meditating out here, but before he can, his thoughts again drift to you. His newfound distraction.
At a table in the cafeteria, Bucky is consumed by his plate of pulao. The fried rice infused with turmeric and cumin is a flavor he hasn’t experienced before and the taste preoccupies him. So much so that he nearly chokes on a bite of it when you sit in the seat across from him.
“Do you mind if I sit here?”
It isn’t unusual for the guests of the retreat to spend time with one another outside of the meditative gatherings, but no one has really approached Bucky until now. Maybe it was the vibranium arm that scared them off. Or maybe the brooding looks after yoga. Either way, he’s thankful for the company and gestures to the seat you’re about to occupy.
After easy introductions and about halfway through lunch, you blurt out, “Y’know, it’s not always this hard. Meditation, I mean. It’s just a little tricky when you start out.”
Bucky wants to know how, in the brief amount of time you spent in the mantra shala, you were able to tell he’s new at meditation. So, with teasing brows and a hint of his old charm, he asks. “Who says it’s my first time?”
You smile again and it’s electric, the current surging through his body and down each limb. The static lingers on every finger, every toe. Afterwards, his posture unknowingly changes, relaxes. The tension in his forehead releases, the breath he was holding escapes. All while he awaits your answer.
“Call it a hunch.”
Bucky is getting the impression that this is not your first time practicing yogi concentration. You seemed content on your little woven mat, sitting comfortably in the fleeting moment he saw you. It’s during this thought that something occurs to him.
He pushes his lunch plate out of the way to lean forward on the table, his blue eyes cutting up at you. His lips curl into a lazy, lopsided grin. With his face closer to yours, he tries to even the score.
“I wasn’t the only one in there with my eyes open.”
It’s a challenge, albeit a good-natured one, and he’s thankful you take the bait. “Well. Let’s just say I like to get settled in a bit before opening up my soul.”
It’s morning again and shadows drown the ashram. After a night’s sleep that failed to provide any rest, Bucky dreads the sunrise meditation. Briefly, he considers skipping it altogether, but the need to find peace guides his feet to the doors of the shala.
The first to arrive, he settles onto a mat in the back of the space. A routine now, he pulls his hair out of his face and crosses his legs before staring intently at a space on the floor, waiting for the session to begin.
Other students start to file in, taking their places closer to the front. With plenty of other mats around him, it surprises Bucky to see you sitting down next to him. If it weren’t for the ghosts haunting his sleep the night before, he might’ve had something flirty to say, but instead he simply yawns and nods his head.
Hopefully you blame his lack of engagement on a lack of sleep.
At the guide’s instruction, Bucky closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. In through the nose, down into the lungs. His chest widens and he’s filled with a familiar panic. The shine of his old metal arm streaks before him in the black expanse hiding under his eyelids.
He shakes the memory and resists the urge to open his eyes. Instead, he redirects his attention to the breath. The command is hard, self-critical. He wants to get this right.
Bucky exhales out of his nose, easing his posture. For nearly an entire minute, he’s able to keep his focus on the steady breathing. The way it makes his shoulders rise and his stomach expand. How it feels when it hits the back of his windpipe. It’s a big moment for him.
Until the trauma of his mind is ripped back open.
Reminders of his enslavement come in flashes, quick and bright. Instead of a dark canvas, he sees a montage of victims ravaged by his hands, one after another they come. Stains of red pour from a litany of wounds until they bleed into the colors of Steve’s uniform.
Unintentionally, Bucky tightens his abdominal muscles, bracing for an impact that never comes. It causes an ache in the pit of his stomach that he wouldn’t even have noticed was there were it not for the meditation.
Om Namah Shivaya
Like a song, the chant chimes like bells in varying timbre, the recitation bringing his attention back to the present. He utters the words in unison with the rest of the students like he knows to do, begging his mind to follow suit. It puts up a fight until he hears your voice and it anchors him. For a moment, he doesn’t feel so alone.
Om Namah Shivaya
It’s desperate, the search for his soul. With his memories unlocked and his future ahead of him, Bucky wants so badly to discover who he is to be in this new life, but the shadow of the Winter Soldier pulls him back under.
Om Namah Shivaya
The divinity within himself. He has his own beliefs about God and even more questions, but the idea of any holiness residing in him after everything he’s done? It’s a hard thing to accept.
This time, when the practice ends and he opens his eyes, you’re still there waiting for him, but you aren’t smiling. With a knowing expression, you nod and exit the shala, waiting for him to follow you.
“When’s the last time you left the ashram?”
He hadn’t, not since he arrived. Bucky came here to find peace and he didn’t intend to leave until he did. But now you’re telling him it’s possible that, for him, peace might be out there.
The idea has enough intrigue that it convinces him to go on a walk with you later that day.
The city of Kathmandu, to put it lightly, is chaotic.
Flocks of people rush through the maze of streets, bumping into you and Bucky every few seconds. The buzzing of motorbikes echo off buildings and through corridors. Street vendors enthusiastically promote their wares to passing tourists.
Nothing about this seems peaceful to Bucky, but when he looks to his left, you’re completely at ease.
“So….where are we going?”
Coming out of your wakeful meditation, you begin to tell Bucky the story of how you came to know Nepal in the first place. “Back in 2015, the Gorkha earthquake shattered Kathmandu. It killed thousands of people and nearly decimated the Durbar squares. But there was one place that survived - one of Nepal’s oldest temples - and it became a place of refuge for the hurting.”
Wading through a crowd of Nepalese locals, Bucky’s senses are brought to life. Surrounded by a swell of colors and unfamiliar smells, he feels alert and entirely focused. It’s almost akin to waking up.
He acknowledges the feeling before asking, “Were you here? During the earthquake?”
You’re in the Kathmandu Durbar Square now. Haunting temples and shrines, both Hindu and Buddhist, are still in a season of repair. Even so, after all this time, their colossal pagodas stand watch over the souls of the city. Bodies broken, but spirits intact.
“After. After the city had been brought to its knees. Disaster response volunteers were mobilized immediately to administer aid. I was one of them.”
Bucky’s been on the other side of destruction. While it’s always been the man-made variety, he’s familiar with the toll it can take on a city. On its people. He’s quiet as you lead him towards your destination.
“The Pashupatinath Temple was one of the few temples left where people could perform the last rites for those they lost. Because of the earthquake and the number of lives it claimed, it was like a communal grieving.”
Crossing a bridge over the Bagmati River, Bucky listens as you explain the local beliefs about the waterway. Its torrents covered in marigolds, he learns that survivors place cremated remains into the river so that their loved ones can be freed.
Tonight, like every night, a congregation of people crowd the bank of the river in anticipation. For what, Bucky isn’t sure, so he asks. “What are all of these people doing here?”
Finding an empty space, you pull in alongside some of the onlookers. “The same thing we are.”
Ordinarily, the ambiguity would irk him, but for now, Bucky is content to merely take in his surroundings. Content to trust you, this unexpected kindred spirit found in a stranger. His gaze leaves you and meanders over the droves of people only to land across the river to the temple.
Night has already begun to fall, but it’s easy to see the three Hindu priests, even all the way from here. Their bronze and golden garments along with the oil lamps in their hands demand attention.
Music, chanting, incense, and lights are lifted to the sky in an offering. In wonderment Bucky watches as a vibration ripples through the crowd and he himself is swept up in its energy. Words are cast aside in favor of a comfortable silence to allow space for the songs of prayer.
In these moments of observance, Bucky isn’t reliving the torture of his past. His mind isn’t being held captive by the crimes he committed in another life.
He’s present.
He stands in reverence of the rituals being performed even though he understands very little about them. What he can understand is the devotion of those around him. The connection they seem to have with each other and their spiritual selves.
It’s then he remembers the idea of divinity residing within himself. Looking down to the river that carries away the dead, he wishes he could place the memory of the Winter Soldier in it so he could be free. Maybe then peace wouldn’t feel so far away.
But he’s pretty sure memories don’t work like that.
When he looks back to you, your face glows in the light of the lamps, your smile mirroring their radiance. Your joy mimicking that of those around you. It’s hard for Bucky to imagine the despair this place saw almost a decade ago. What you saw.
“It’s funny what time can do to a place.” You pause while your eyes bore into his. “Or a person.”
The weight of your unwavering stare is enough to make Bucky shove his hands in his pockets and shift on his feet. Again, he’s left to wonder how you know what he’s thinking. How, in two day’s time, you’re able to understand him this well.
The ceremony ends and the crowds begin to scatter, the two of you strolling back through the now quiet streets of the city towards the ashram. Somewhere along the way, you find a stray marigold and pick it up. While you play with its leaves, Bucky summons the courage to ask, “Is that why you came back?”
Back to the place you spent months trying to repair. Back to the source of undoubtedly painful memories and presumed heartache. Bucky spent years running from the agony he endured, so he’s curious to know what would draw you back to yours.
“To see what has changed? In a way. It wasn’t like the Gorkha earthquake was my first, I’ve been a disaster response volunteer for quite some time. I’ve seen the damage that Mother Nature can cause, so I knew the country would recover.”
It sounds like an unfinished statement, so Bucky presses further. “But…”
When you turn to look at him, your eyes soften and the smile is delicate. Internally, Bucky is begging you to trust him, to allow him to really see you like the way you see him. He exhales lightly when you relent.
“But... this one changed me in a way that I can’t explain. I was a different person the first time I came to Nepal. More damaged, a wreck in my own right. I thought we needed to meet again when we were both reborn. And now that we are, it’s like we’re seeing each other for the first time.”
Reborn. Bucky lets the word rest easily on his mind as he considers who he’d be ten years from now. Would he be able to heal like you? Like Nepal?
Approaching the ashram, darkness blankets the retreat and your two bodies dissolve into mere silhouettes. Before going your separate ways, Bucky finds you reading his mind once more.
“I’ve seen enough destruction in my life to be able to recognize its aftermath. You have it in your eyes which means it’s in your soul. Allow yourself the time it takes to mend - however long that happens to be.”
Tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear, you disappear into the night. Left alone with the faint whisper of your touch, Bucky wanders to his cabin to turn in. When he lies down to sleep, his dreams are filled with marigolds and ash, free of nightmares of old.
The sun’s early rays ignite the Nepali sky in shades of rust and amber. An awakening of its own, the light leads Bucky back to the mantra shala. There, next to his usual mat you wait, legs already folded. Patting the floor, Bucky looks down and finds relief in your smile.
“Are you ready to try again?”
Gone is the heaviness from the night before, the absence of its burden making room for opportunity and joy. His spirit is nearly and inexplicably weightless. When he sits down by your side, he’s hopeful for what this meditation may bring. Less judgmental, more open. Less critical, more forgiving.
Om Namah Shivaya
Again, the meditative song begins. Bucky closes his eyes and the world around him disappears. Past transgressions float away as does the brilliance of your eyes. No thoughts of golden petals or rivers so deep. Just the steady rise and fall of his chest.
Om Namah Shivaya
In this moment, he’s uninterested in his past. Instead, he’s committed to his search for the path forward. Breathe in, breathe out. With his back straight and head up, he gets lost in the repetitive tones of the cleansing chant, the balance of his breathing. The thoughts that are known to plague him subdue and Bucky finds momentary peace.
When he opens his eyes again, it takes him a moment to readjust to the room. The sun has risen and the other students have left, including you. How long had he sat there alone? Had he fallen asleep?
No, he meditated. Successfully.
It’s the first moment of peace Bucky has found since falling off that train so many years ago. In the afterglow of his reflection, he is tranquil. Calm. It’s not as if he feels that all is right in the world or even in himself, but there’s a feeling that all is as it should be.
By no means completely healed, Bucky is encouraged by his progress. After all, what is a journey but if not the summation of many steps forward?
His next one is to find you and thank you for walking alongside him at the start of his.
#Bucky Barnes x Reader#Bucky Barnes x you#Bucky Barnes x y/n#bucky barnes fanfiction#jbbnnmhamchallenge
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The Last Thing
Pairings: Y/N Stacy & Peter Parker
Summary: Peter is not dealing with his friend’s death very well.
Loosely based on true and personal events.
Words: ~2900
Warnings: Mentions of death. Yelling. Blaming.
A/N: AU, Peter and Gwen are friends. Y/N is Gwen’s older sister. Gwen is an Avenger and has been in all the fights instead of Peter.
This is for @jbbarnesnnoble‘s mental health awareness challenge. I chose “How do you even begin to move on?” It won’t be a quote, but it’ll be in bold. Takes place after Endgame.
Dear Peter,
I’m not going to beat around the bush. I’ve never been known to anyways. If you’re reading this, that means I’m either dead or in some sort of close-to-death coma, probably the former.
I’m writing this the day before I leave for Berlin. Sorry I didn’t tell you about it but Tony Stark came to me so I’m assuming it has to stay on the DL. Yeah, you read that right. Tony freaking Stark! He hasn’t told me much but I’m assuming some sort of drama with the Accords. Why he came to me and not you, I’m not sure. Maybe just because I go out more and there’s more youtube videos of me than you. Or maybe he didn’t want the “friendly neighborhood Spiderman.” He wanted someone tougher. Haha just kidding.
Anywho... back to the reason for this letter. I want you to take my place. Queens still needs someone to take care of it, and since I’m no longer around, it’s gotta be you. We were both in that lab and got bit by those radioactive spiders. Who thought making spiders radioactive was a good idea anyways? We went through all the weird hardships with these new powers together and managed without anyone finding out….except my sister. (and apparently Tony Stark.)
Speaking of Y/N, I’m putting her in your care. You are now responsible for her. I’m only kind of sorry. She’s the only one that knows about this letter.
Hopefully you don’t have to read this immediately following this impromptu trip to Berlin, or at all in 2016. Or, you know, ever. Hopefully I can grow old and retire SpiderGwen. Wait, those are two different things, let me rephrase that: hopefully I can stop saving the day around 25 and then retire when I’m old and wrinkly and burn this letter so you never have to even know it existed.
If you are reading this and made it this far, I want you to know that I believe in you. It is hard being a hero. Sometimes you have to make tough decisions, but you’re a smart guy. I know you will be great. Better than me, probably.
You’re the best basically-brother I could ever ask for. Spiderman is destined for great things. I know it.
Gwen
Present day, May 2023
When it first happened - when half the universe was brought back - Y/N came looking for Peter immediately. After that first weird day back to school, she found him..and that was weird too. She used to only be one year older than him and Gwen, and now she was clearly 6 years older than him. She’d asked if he’d seen her in class, and he said no. She covered her mouth and started crying right there. It confused him at the time, but in hindsight, he realized she knew at that moment that Gwen was dead. Her family got the call from Nick Fury himself that night.
Besides the big bad, Thanos he thinks, there were only two casualties. “Only” two on the heroes side, when there’s usually zero. They were Gwen and Tony Stark. So not only did Peter lose his best friend, he lost his idol as well, and even though he never got to meet him, it still hurts. A little. He died bringing back the half of humanity that was blipped, a truly heroic act, but Gwen died so that that could happen. She’s hardly ever mentioned in news reports or anything.
It’s been almost two months. TWO.
Peter read the letter again. He did almost once a day. The fold creases were already very worn and the page had been stained with tears many times over. He still just couldn’t believe she was actually gone. Being brought back after getting blipped was enough to deal with but now his closest friend was dead. What was the most frustrating was that he didn’t know how. He wasn’t allowed to. SHIELD classified it and only the immediate family could know. You hadn’t told him everything, but you did say something about her getting caught in some crossfire. That’s all you were allowed to say.
He sat in the stairwell of his and Aunt May’s Queens apartment while he waited for you to arrive. He was zoned out thinking and didn’t even hear you come up the stairs.
“Peter?” he snapped back to reality and looked at you, eyes sad, “you ready?”
He nodded and stood up, shoving his hands in his shorts pockets. He trudged down the stairs and met you at the landing, then walking side by side down the rest to ground level. Exiting the complex, you put your arm around his shoulders walking the already too familiar route. What had happened was still fresh and you two had decided to visit Gwen’s grave once a week, tell her what had been going on, if anything.
The first few times were okay, but recently, Peter hadn’t been saying anything. He just kneels in front of her grave, head down, and cries. You really felt for the kid, you did. His parents died when he was 6, his uncle Ben 3 years ago (since he was blipped), and now his best friend-basically-sister. He’s only 16 and has dealt with more death than anyone at that age should. How do you even begin to move on? The gaps are big, but that doesn’t make any of them hurt less. Especially when they’re all family.
After a few minutes of silent sobs, you place your hand on his shoulder. He stands up and steps aside, so you can have your time. You look at him and give him a soft smile of thanks. He looks at you for a millisecond before looking back at the ground, wiping away stray tears.
You approach her gravestone, putting your hand on it, brushing your fingers along it and tracing the letters of her name. You speak softly, as if just to her. “Gwenny, I need help. Your help. This has been hard on Peter. You were his best friend and now he just seems like a lost puppy without you around. I know he has Ned and MJ, but a big chunk of him is missing without you here,” you cough out a sob, “I just want the old Petey back. I don’t expect it tomorrow, or next week, or even next month, but I need it. I want some sort of normalcy back in my life,” your next sob comes out with a little bit of a laugh, “look at me, talking to a grave like I’m talking to an actual human. You’d totally give me crap for this.” you sigh, “It’s just-- being six years older than him now instead of just one makes it hard. We’re in such different places in our lives. He just finished his freshman year of high school, and I’m in college now...” you trail off, forgetting where you were going with it. Standing up, you give one last tap to the gravestone. “Bring him back. Oh-” You dig in your purse and pull out a charm bracelet. You crouch back down and lay it right next to the base where the grass is a little bit taller. You wear an identical one. “Mom and dad are doing fine..well, as well as you could expect. There are some rough nights, but we’re managing.”
Emotions were still running high at home. You’d lost your sister, and your parents, their youngest child. There was a lot of fighting and blaming, despite heroism being Gwen’s choice. She’d told you once that she’d been given the powers for a reason. If bad things happened and she did nothing, it was basically her fault. You never really agreed with the sentiment, but she insisted and went on helping out the people of Queens, eventually roping Peter into it.
A lot of the time the blame fell on you, your father wondering why you weren’t with Gwen and Peter the day they got bit. You take it, as it’s his way of mourning and relieving his anger. He’s looking for answers that he’ll never get. Your mom is mostly silent, save for the fights. You two usually end up drinking a bottle or two of wine before tottling off to bed, drowning your sorrows.
The walk back is silent, as usual. You were both mourning and it was always emotionally draining after a visit and hard to make conversation. You’re about 2/3 of the way back before you decide to try. “I, uh, noticed you had the letter in the stairwell.” You feel a shift and see as his hand goes to his pocket. “Pete, why?” You sigh, not in disappointment, mostly in exhaustion but a little bit of curiosity too.
He looks down, an exhale coming from his nose, “It’s the last thing I have of her.”
You let out a soft gasp. That hadn’t even crossed your mind, it was the last physical thing Gwen had touched and given - by way of you - to him. “Oh, Petey.” You run your fingers through his hair a few times before letting your arm rest limply over his shoulders. He pushes it off, stopping in his tracks and looks at you with an expression you don’t recognize. He mumbles something and you stop waking as well, leaning forward a little. “Peter?”
“Tony did this.”
“To-”
“Tony Stark! He’s the one who recruited her. He’s the one that put her on this path.” he paces back and forth in anger. “If it weren’t for him, she wouldn’t be a part of the Avengers and she wouldn’t be dead.”
“Peter...” you know what he’s doing. In fact, you went through and did the same thing just a couple weeks ago. “You know he’s not to blame. She’s the one who wanted to help the community, just like you,” you reasoned, “it was only a matter of time before she caught the eye of the Avengers.”
He ignored you, turning on his heels. “I need to talk to him.”
“Y-you can’t. Peter..” you stand there, stunned for a moment, “Peter.” you call out. He doesn’t respond and you quickly move from your place on the sidewalk and jog a little to try to catch up. You forgot how quickly he could walk when he was on a mission. “Peter!”
“What?!” he turns around, fire in his eyes. You actually cower a little, never hearing this tone come out of his mouth before.
“Uhm..” your voice is meek at first as you try to figure out what to say and recover from the surprise his outburst gave you, “you can’t go talk to Tony.”
“And why not?”
“He,” you swallow the lump in your throat, speaking softly not out of fear now, but to bring down the information as delicately as you could, “he died that night too. Remember?”
He blinks and there seems to be a flicker of remembrance and realization. It quickly changes back to anger and he looks you dead in the eyes, pointing. “Then it’s your fault!”
“W-what?”
“Yeah. You’re the one that let her go to Berlin. She would’ve listened to you. If you had told her no, she wouldn’t have gone. It’s your fault!” he continues pointing his finger at you, his voice rising as he talked. You hadn’t even realized you were moving until you were suddenly backed into the wall of a corner store, or maybe a restaurant, you didn’t really take the time to figure out where you were on the street.
You could feel your breath beginning to shallow the more he talked. You had no idea what was going to happen, and with him being enhanced, he was unpredictable. “Peter...” was all you could muster up, hoping just saying his name would somehow take him out of this trance he was in. It didn’t work and if you hadn’t looked down to look away from his face, you wouldn’t have noticed his other hand beginning to ball into a fist. Your eyes widened and you looked back at him, tears threatening to fall. “Peter, please.”
It didn’t phase him. “It’s your fault!” he yells and you see his fist rise and you dodge out of the way in the nick of time, now in a crouched position.
You hear his fist connect with the wall, “Fuck!” Under different circumstances, you’d be surprised and sarcastically scold him because you’ve never heard him swear, ever. At the moment though, you’re now seated against the wall, breathing hard and tears falling silently.
“Y/N?” He crouches down and puts a hand on your shoulder, which you slink away from. At this point, as if it were a movie, mother nature decided it had to rain. All you hear is the soft pattering of the rain on the sidewalk for a moment before you hear some soft whimpering. You look around, and see a few feet from you, Peter sitting and hugging his knees, head down.
You stand up, and walk over to him, not announcing your presence in any way, and sit next to him. Taking his hand in yours, you begin inspecting his knuckles. “You’re lucky you have super strength. Otherwise that wall would have done a number on your hand. More than just some scratches and it looks like probably some bruising.” The only reply you get is some breathy sobs. “Okay,” keeping his hand in yours, you stand up and urge him up too, “let’s get you home.”
He doesn’t argue and slowly begins to walk home, with your aid. Your arm is once again around his shoulders and he doesn’t push it away this time. The whole walk back is silent, as expected. The both of you now more tired than before, physically and emotionally.
When you arrive back at Peter’s apartment, you enter, May leaving it unlocked. She’s on the couch watching tv. She turns around with a smile to greet you guys, but it quickly turns to a frown when she sees the state the two of you are in. You see her mouth open about to ask a question and you shake your head. She closes it and stands, walking over to Peter’s bedroom door and opening it for the two of you. You nod a thank you and walk in.
Peter still seems to be in a daze when you sit him down at his desk. You scan his room looking for a towel, seeing clothes and books strewn about, assuming he ‘lost’ his backpack again. “Well, I see you have a project for tomorrow,” you try to joke, despite the fact that you began picking up his clothes and putting them in the hamper in his closet. You hear a soft hmm? and look over at him. He’s looking at you, eyes red but only a little puffy.
You finally find his bath towel, halfway under his bed. Picking it up, you shake it a couple times to get any dust bunnies off and walk over to him. You can feel his eyes on you as you dry the rain off his arms and legs, but you continue. You dab off his neck and rub his hair a few times, getting as much off as you can before moving to his face. He jerks away and wipes his forehead with his arm before looking at you, as if studying you. You sit back a little, unsure, wondering what he’s going to do.
He takes a deep breath like he’s trying to gather the courage to speak to you. It takes a couple more seconds before he does. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh Peter,” you coo softly, “it’s okay.”
He slaps his hand on his desk, “No it’s not!” seeing you jump, he realized what he did, “s-sorry.” he says barely above a whisper.
“It’s not,” you agree, “but you’re mourning. I’m going through the same thing at home. You know this. I can take a few angry words.”
“But I blamed you, tried to hurt you.”
You nod, “I will admit I was a little scared when you tried to hit me,” he looks down, scared to make eye contact, “but,” you use your finger to lift his chin, “I got out of the way and you didn’t. Guess I gotta thank Gwen for taking me to some of those self defense classes so I could help her train.” You say the last part with a smile.
For what you’re pretty sure is the first time that night, Peter smiles too. You use your hand and wipe away the remaining tears on his face. “There he is.”
You get up on your knees, about to stand up, when he pulls you into a hug. You let out at squeak of surprise but quickly melt into it. Then, you suddenly begin to cry.
“Y/N?” he doesn’t pull out of the hug but you can hear the concern in his voice.
You sniffle and wipe away your tears, letting out a kind of cry-laugh. “I’m just glad, that at least for tonight, you’re back to the Peter that I know. I’ve missed your smile.” You feel him hug you a little tighter.
For Avory
#JBBNNMHAMChallenge#Peter Parker x reader#(platonic yall)#peter parker & reader#gwen stacy#spiderman#spider man#spider-man#spidergwen#spider gwen#peter parker
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Hello lovely people! And welcome to my first writting challenge. The aim of this challenge is to shine a light on mental health, medical conditions, and the things that can have impacts on us. This started out initially being a PCOS Awareness challenge but through conversations on the TCC discord, it’s become a challenge surrounding mental health in general.
May is Mental Health Awareness Month. The goal of this challenge is to lift each other up, and show that it’s okay not to be okay. Spread some love and light during a challenging time in the world to those who struggle with chronic illness, depression, anxiety, self-esteem issues, grief, PCOS, acceptance from their families and communities for being LGBT+, and anyone struggling with insecurity.
This challenge will run through September 15th, 2020. It will run through part of Mental Health Awareness Month, through Pride Month, and through part of PCOS Awareness Month. I probably have too many prompts, but I wanted to ensure that there was a wide array to choose from.
The Rules:
1. Utilize resources available online if you’re dealing with subject matter you’re not that familiar with. I’m not going to go all “cite sources” on y’all, but please do make sure to do your research. Writing about some of these issues can be hard if you don’t have first hand knowledge of how it can affect you. The goal of this challenge is to write about topics that we tend to shy away from, that many of us struggle with, from mental health struggles to chronic illnesses to low-self esteem. A gentle reminder that if you think writing about a subject will be triggering for you, please look after yourself first.
2. Use #JBBNNMHAMChallenge to tag your fic
3. Dark!Fic- I was up in the air on allowing dark!fic in the challenge. Due to the subject matter involved in this challenge, please don’t submit dark!fic. I enjoy dark fics, but this challenge isn’t the place for them.
4. Smut- Smut is welcome! Make sure you tag it appropriately.
5. No inc*st, dubcon/noncon, underage, etc
6. Ships- I prefer reader inserts, but show me what ya got
7. Selecting Prompts: Just let me know which one you want to do! 2 people per prompt! The song prompts have a line from them under it. You DO NOT need to use the line in your submission! It’s mostly to help you decide if you’re interested in a song before you take a listen to it. The song prompts are broken down into ‘support’, ‘general’, and ‘grief’ but feel free to use them as you see fit. I categorized them mostly for organization
8. Trigger Warnings: Use warnings as needed. Fics dealing with depression, anxiety, eating disorders, or other mental health issues should be tagged appropriately to ensure that readers that may be triggered by the subject matter can avoid the fic. Trigger warnings are non-negotiable
The prompts are under the cut!
Prompts:
Dialogue Prompts:
“You never have to ask, you know that right? Say the word, and I’ll do it.” ( @whistlingwillows )
“Would you believe me if I said it’s because I love you? I’d give you the world if you asked.” ( @jbbuckybarnes )
“I promise you. One day, it will get easier. Those feelings might never fully go away, but it will get easier.” ( @imnotasuperhero )
“You ever feel like you can’t breathe? Like the whole world is collapsing in on itself and no one notices? No one cares? Like you can’t escape it?” ( @nekoannie-chan )
“It’d probably be easier if you left”
“Please leave me alone”
“I said I don’t want to talk about it. What part of that is hard for you to understand?” ( @sweetwritesx )
“I wish I could believe you when you said that.” ( @evansweaters )
“How do you even begin to move on?” ( @blackwidowballet )
“You sure about that, moonman?”
“I don’t know. All I do know is I don’t belong here” (@buckybarnesplumwhore)
“That’s not true. And I will tell you that every day of your life until you believe me.”
Sentence Prompts:
Feel free to adjust the pronouns as needed
It was a day. It was the only way it could be described.
The feeling stuck like super glue, unable to be shaken away with a few whispered words and comforting hugs. ( @buckybarney )
You never knew something could hurt like this, that emotional pain could resonate so strongly through every atom of your body. (@buckybarnesplumwhore)
That smile. He/she missed that smile. ( @bethycupcake )
It was progress. Baby steps forward. Maybe it wouldn’t all be okay today, but someday? It would be. ( @trillian-anders )
The list of medications that had been tried seemed like it was a mile long. ( @buckyreaderrecs)
If you had another condescending doctor tell you your problem wasn’t a problem you were going to scream.
The warmth of the sun fell over you like a blanket in the middle of winter. ( @avintagekiss24 )
Today was going to be good.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out that this was going south.
AU and Trope Prompts:
Soulmate
College
Childhood Friends
Friends to Lovers
Enemies to Lovers
Musicians
Writer
Professional Athlete
Teacher
Coffee Shop
Fake Dating
Accidental Marriage
Royal
Librarian
Neighbors ( @shakespeareanqueer )
Song Prompts:
Support:
1. Nobody Ever Told You - Carrie Underwood
Lyric Snippet: “Wish you could see yourself the way I do. Nobody ever told you, nobody ever told you. Shine like a diamond, glitter like gold, and you need to know what nobody ever told you”
2. Missing You - All Time Low
Lyric Snippet: “And if you need a friend, I’ll help you stitch up your wounds. I heard that you’ve been, having some trouble finding your place in the world. I know how much that hurts. But if you need a friend, then please just say the word.”
3. Barefoot and Bruise - Jamestown Story
Lyric Snippet: “Maybe when your sky comes crashing down, I can be your angel on the ground. If you get tired and can’t go on, I will carry you along, when the rocks below your feet wear out your shoes, when you’re barefoot and bruised”
4. Hold On Till May- Pierce the Veil
Lyric Snippet: “If were you, I’d put that away. See you’re just wasted and thinking about the past again. Darling, you’ll be okay.”
5. This Song Saved My Life - Simple Plan
Lyric Snippet: “You let me know like no one else that it’s okay to be myself” ( @captain-kelli )
General:
1. It Feels Like - 1551
Lyric Snippet: “No I’m not fine, every second is a record of why, I live my life never doing things right”
2. Sunrise - 1551
Lyric Snippet: “Nightmare that’s not gonna stop, it’s darkness you’re not gonna stop”
3. Home - Machine Gun Kelly, X Ambassadors, Beba Rexha
Lyric Snippet: “All these miles, feet, inches, they can’t add up to the distance that I have been through just to get to a place where even if there’s no closure I’m still safe. I still ache from trying to keep pace. Somebody give me a sign, I’m starting to lose faith”
4. Broken Arrows - Daughtry
Lyric Snippet: “The best of intentions I lay at your feet. And I need you to see past the worst part of me.”
5. Used - Serious Matters
Lyric Snippet: “The wounds are gone and the pain still lingers. But this time I won’t stand by, I don’t need you in my life”
6. Unsteady - X Ambassadors
Lyric Snippet: “Hold on to me, ‘cause I’m a little unsteady, a little unsteady” ( @jamesbarnesappreciationclub )
7. Let It Land - Tonight Alive
Lyric Snippet: “And everything we hate is something we just bought along the line”
8. Cold As You - Taylor Swift
Lyric Snippet: “You put up walls and paint them all a shade of grey. And I stood there loving you and wished them all away. And you come away with a great little story, of a mess of a dreamer with the nerve to adore you”
9. Tied Together with a Smile - Taylor Swift
Lyric Snippet: “Hold on, baby you’re losing it. The water’s high, you’re jumping into it, and letting go, and no one knows. That you cry but you don’t tell anyone that you might not be the golden one. And you’re tied together with a smile, but you’re coming undone.”
10. Human Interaction - Tonight Alive
Lyric Snippet: “I don’t know love. I don’t know hate. I am numb. Wish I could find the words to say. Asking please, as colors fade. I need to breathe. Before I turn the world to grey.”
Grief:
1. Jersey On the Wall (I’m Just Asking) - Tenille Townes
Lyric Snippet: “If I ever get to heaven, you know I got a long list of questions. Like how do you make a snowflake, are you angry when the earth quakes? How does the sky change in a minutes, how do you keep this big rock spinning? Why can’t you stop a car from crashing? Forgive me, I’m just asking”
2. Five More Minutes - Scotty McCreery
Lyric Snippet: “Time rolls by, the clock don’t stop. I wish I had a few more drops of the good stuff, the good times. Oh, but they just keep on flying right on by like it ain’t nothing, wish I had me a, a pause button. Moments like those, Lord knows I’d hit it. Give myself five more minutes”
3. Dad’s Old Number - Cole Swindell
Lyric Snippet: “Sometimes I forget, these ten digits ain’t my lifeline anymore. Every now and then I dial them up when life gets tough or when the Braves score. Sorry about the one ring hang ups, early morning and late night wake ups. It was just me. In case you wondered, you’ve got dad’s old number.”
4. The Other Side - Lauren Alaina
Lyric Snippet: “There’s gonna be a lot of sadness on a lot of happy days, I’ll try to think of this moment, this place”
5. I Was Here - Beyonce
Lyric Snippet: “So they won’t forget I was here. I lived. I loved. I was here. I did, I’ve done, everything that I wanted and it was more than I thought it would be. I will leave my mark so everyone will know I was here.”
6. Gone Too Soon - Simple Plan
Lyric Snippet: “Like a shooting star, flying across the room. So fast, so far, you were gone too soon. You’re a part of me. And I’ll never be the same here without you. You were gone too soon.”
7. Amelia - Tonight Alive
Lyric Snippet: “And you will always be perfect, you’ll always be beautiful, our hearts, will never forget you. You didn’t belong here, and it’s become so clear why heaven called your name.”
#JBBNNMHAMChallenge#writing challenge#marvel#mcu#marvel writing challenge#steve rogers#bucky barnes#natasha romanoff#bucky barnes/reader#steve rogers/reader#wanda maximoff/reader#tony stark/reader#tony stark#sam wilson#natasha romanoff/reader#sam wilson/reader
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Rota
Pareja: Steve Rogers X Lectora ex agente de HYDRA.
Palabras: 637 palabras.
Sinopsis: No podías dejar de sentirte culpable por lo que HYDRA te obligó a hacer en el pasado, creías que no merecías ser feliz ni que alguien te amara, hasta que conociste a Steve.
Advertencias: Triste (prometo que tiene final feliz), la lectora es ex agente de HYDRA, menciones de smut, nada explicito.
N/A: Esta es mi entrada para Jbbarnesnnbole’s 2nd Annual Mental Health Awareness Month Challenge 2021 con la frase #6:
“Todos estamos rotos. Algunos más, otros menos, eso no te hace menos o mala persona por estar así.”
No doy ningún permiso para que mis fics sean publicados en otra plataforma o idioma (yo traduzco mi propio trabajo) o el uso de mis gráficos (mis separadores de texto también están incluidos), los cuales hice exclusivamente para mis fics, por favor respeta mi trabajo y no lo robes. Aquí en la plataforma hay personas que hacen separadores de texto para que cualquiera los pueda usar, los míos no son públicos, por favor busca los de dichas personas. La única excepción serían los regalos que he hecho ya que ahora pertenecen a alguien más. Si encuentras alguno de mis trabajos en una plataforma diferente y no es alguna de mis cuentas, por favor avísame. Los reblogs y comentarios están bien.
DISCLAIMER: Los personajes de Marvel no me pertenecen (desafortunadamente), exceptuando por los personajes originales y la historia.
Si te gusto por favor vota, comenta y rebloguea.
Tags: @sinceimetyou @black23
Las noches lluviosas siempre te ponían nostálgica ya que te recordaba el día que lograste escapar de HYDRA, aunque no te gustaba hablar con nadie de lo que pasó antes. El pasado no era más que eso, pasado.
Sin embargo, a pesar de que ya habían pasado algunos años desde aquel día en el que Steve te había salvado -él fue quien te ayudó a escapar, el único que quiso arriesgarse y creído en ti, los demás se opusieron-, seguías sintiendo que no encajabas en ese lugar, también los demás te hacían sentir así.
Tomaste un sorbo de tu bebida, estabas sentada en el lugar más lejano, no conocías a nadie, pero tampoco te interesaba. Unos minutos después Steve se acercó a ti, alzaste la vista y suspiraste relajada al reconocerlo.
Soltaste un suspiro y te relajaste cuando lo viste.
—¿Estás aburrida? —Steve cuestionó, tú asentiste—. Nunca me han gustado estas fiestas, son muy...me hacen sentir…no sé explicarlo. Stark insiste en que tenemos que asistir, aunque preferiría hacer otras cosas.
Sonreíste, a veces no sabías si realmente Steve te hablaba porque le parecías interesante o por simple cortesía.
—¿Te parece bien si vamos a otro lugar? Creo que nos divertiremos más en un lugar diferente —Steve sugirió.
—Oh…¿A dónde sería? —preguntaste inocentemente, aunque ya sabías a qué se refería.
—Simplemente confía en mí —Steve propuso a la vez que te ofrecía su mano para ayudarte a levantar, la tomaste, de todas formas, cualquier lugar sería mejor que esa fiesta tan aburrida.
Te despertaste cuando el sol iluminaba la habitación y con los ronquidos de cierto súper soldado dormido a tu lado. De manera silenciosa te levantaste, vestiste antes de tener alguna conversación incómoda con él sobre lo que pasó la noche anterior. Agarraste un bolígrafo y papel para escribir una nota, y la dejaste en su mesita de noche. Esperabas que él comprendiera los motivos por los que te ibas después de la noche tan apasionada que tuvieron.
Caminabas en silencio y con cuidado por los pasillos, no querías que nadie se diera cuenta y mucho menos hablar con ellos mientras escapabas. Casi llegabas a la puerta principal cuando alguien te tomó del brazo, volteaste lentamente para quedar de frente, tu sorpresa fue mayor cuando viste que era Steve mirándote con el ceño fruncido. ¿Cómo había llegado tan rápido?
Steve soltó tu brazo y con tristeza miró tus ojos.
—Leí tu nota, sabes, todos estamos rotos. Algunos más, otros menos, eso no te hace menos o mala persona por estar así —dijo acariciando tu cara.
Pudiste sentir como las lágrimas comenzaban a juntarse en tus ojos.
—Steve, no creo…
—Podemos comenzar una nueva, donde tú quieras. No me importa lo que pasó en tu pasado. Eso no define quién eres. La persona que ahora eres, es la mujer con la que quiero estar, te amo —él confesó.
Sus palabras te sorprendiendo mientras intentabas pensar en lo que te acababa de decir.
—Pero, no merezco tu amor.
Steve puso sus manos en tus mejillas, limpiando tus lágrimas con sus pulgares.
—Nada más importa, excepto tú y yo. Hace frío aquí, volvamos a la cama y puedo mostraste lo que significas para mí. Luego, mañana hablaremos con Fury para que vivamos en otro y hagamos todo lo que siempre has querido.
Lentamente asentiste y dejaste que te guiara de regreso a la habitación, ahora entendías todo, él en verdad estaba enamorado de ti, no le importaba nada de lo que hiciste en el pasado. No cabía duda de que podías confiar en él. Cuando la puerta de la habitación se cerró, Steve capturó tus labios con un beso lento, pero apasionado. Hoy se centrarían en mostrarse lo mucho que se aman. Steve te demostraría que te merecías el mundo y mucho más. Mañana empezarían una nueva vida juntos.
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Suffocation
Pairing: Brock Rumlow X Mutant! Reader
Word count: 1585 words.
Summary: How did the fact that people didn't accept mutants in the past affect you?
Warnings: Angst, lots of angst, panic attacks, PTSD, low self-esteem, past anti-mutant sentimental and actions, depression, anxiety.
A/N: “Mutie” is a derogatory way to call the mutants that some people use in The Gifted.
The sources I checked are in Spanish because I need to understand deeply all the concepts and are these: PTSD 1, PTSD 2, panic attack 1, panic attack 2
Flashbacks are in italics.
The dream is in italics and bold.
This is my entry to the @golden-ariess ‘s Lucid Dreams Writing Challenge with the prompt:
“You keep saying love isn’t real, how would you know if you haven’t given it a real chance”
Also is my entry to the @jbbarnesnnoble ‘s Mental Health Awareness Month Writing Challenge with the dialogue prompt #4:
“You ever feel like you can’t breathe? Like the whole world is collapsing in on itself and no one notices? No one cares? Like you can’t escape it?”
And my entry to the @stareyedplanet ‘s Lin’s 100 Follower Challenge with the angst prompt # 8:
“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong. And don’t try lying to me!”
My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistake please let me know and I will correct it.
I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics be posted in other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and is not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.
My other media where I publish: Wattpad, Ao3, ffnet.
If you like it please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.
These days were always difficult, the memories... Despite seeking help, it seemed as if it hadn't worked, the medication wasn't a solution either, it wasn't helping you at all, but your powers were affected. You've already tried too many things, but NOTHING worked.
You saw how your other team members were happy, but it was like you felt like you didn't deserve it... or rather as if something was going to happen and it would ruin it.
You couldn't help thinking that you could have done something else to save them... if you had never made those mistakes...
You were out of the room when the team showed up, basically just seeing them for training and missions, other than that, you avoided them, Brock realized; it wasn't the first time you'd done it and that worried him.
It was known that Brock was not very expressive with his feelings, like you, so everyone was surprised when they discovered that you and he had a relationship.
You had your head hidden in your arms on the base garden table after a long workout.
The night before you had that nightmare again, that nightmare that always seemed so real, but you knew it couldn't be real; it was simply the memories that overwhelmed your mind. It was always so real as if you were back in those moments.
"Are you too tired because of training?” Brock asked you sitting in front of you.
You raised your head when you heard it and you just nodded.
"You're lying," he said.
"I beg your pardon?”
"Whenever you lie, you're lying, nose wrinkles, and it gives you away," Brock said.
You were perplexed, you've never noticed, you'd pay more attention the next time.
"Have you been spying on me? “You questioned trying to change the subject of conversation.
"What? No, it's just a very noticeable thing," Brock said.
"So what?”
"Don't change the subject, you seem to be hiding something and the presence of others...”
"Nobody likes mutants and it's not something new," you interrupted him.
"Don't say those things, I do, I like you Y/N," he replied.
"You must be joking, I don't like anyone, love is for children, it's not real; It's just a lie...
"It's not true, if only...”
"If only nothing, I say it because it's the truth.”
“You keep saying love isn’t real, how would you know if you haven’t given it a real chance”
You opened your mouth without being able to say anything, your mind was trying to process what you just heard.
"Give me a chance, I can prove you wrong," Brock continued.
He came close enough and kissed you, you kissed him too.
You opened your eyes, again you were in your high school, but alone inside the classroom, you opened the door, the hallway seemed empty, you started walking, the other doors of the place were closed, you breathed deep, trying not to panic, the road took you to the gym.
Suddenly a basketball hit your back, you turned around and you were surrounded by your classmates, who started throwing you more and more balls.
“Get out of here mutie, we don't want you here,”
"You're not well received.”
"All muties do is bring troubles.”
You were going backwards, you wanted them to shut up, you didn't see the pool behind you and when you fell into it, you tried to get out, you couldn't, the panic in you started to increase, you couldn’t breathe...
“Y/N!” Brock called you again trying to wake you up.
You woke up and tried to get him off his back thinking you were still dreaming while you were screaming.
"It's me, Brock, you're safe, it was just a nightmare," he said, trying to sound calm.
"Brock?” You asked between sobs.
"Yes babe, it's me.”
You hugged him and wept in his arms, he stroked your hair to comfort you.
"Do you want to talk?” He asked.
You shook your head, you kept your head sunk in your chest.
"Y/N, don't you want to play monopoly with us? Natasha invited you.
"No thanks," you declined.
"Come on Y/N," Brock tried to cheer you up.
"No, I have... things to do.”
You knew that if you stayed with them for a long time, something bad would happen, or worse, you thought that at any moment I was going to attack you for being a mutant.
The team had broken into a mission, you didn't know where the others were, you went into a small room, you checked your gun, you no longer had ammunition, you locked the door if any enemy found you, and you were at a disadvantage.
You tried to open the door after a few moments, but this one didn't give way. You had become trapped, you felt that you could not breathe, you were terrified, you had tried to ask for help through the intercom, no sound came out of your mouth, you were paralyzed from fear, and you could not bear to be in dark or small places for long.
You felt that space was shrinking, as if the walls were moving to trap you, you couldn't think clearly, no one knew you were there.
The guy you liked took your hand, at sixteen it was too exciting.
"Do you think we should go in?” He asked you pointing his head towards the door in front of them.
You nodded shyly, was he going to kiss you, what was going to happen in there?
He opened the door, turned to you and smiled at you.
"Ladies first," he said by holding your hand to get you in.
Once you were near the door he pushed you hard inside the place and closed on the outside.
"This is what the muties deserve," he said from the outside.
You tried to open it, but it was stuck, you screamed, it seemed that no one was listening to you or if they did they were ignoring you and probably mocking you; you weren't sure if it was minutes or hours, the anguish was starting to grow, you were in the dark, you didn't know there was around you; somehow you managed and managed to get out with the help of your powers, outside there was no one and it was dark.
You immediately went to your house, your parents were worried, and they didn't know where you'd been.
"Y/N, where were you?”
"A guy in my class locked me up...”
Someone knocked on the door interrupting, your father peeked out.
"You need to leave, the Sentinel Services is here," he ordered you.
Your mom got you out of the house, yet they got caught, you got to hear her screams asking you to leave.
That day you ran like you've never done before. They had died at the Mutant Detention Center.
Brock managed to find you, opened the door, called you several times, but it was like you didn't hear it, he came over and took your hand.
"Baby, can you hear me?”
There was no answer, your face reflected terror, with the other hand raised your face.
"Y/N, come on, breathe with me, everything's fine.”
You did what he told you.
"Are you all right? He asked you after they got off the ship on their way back.
"Yes," you answered and set out to enter the base.
Brock took your arm and stopped you, he needed to know what was going on.
“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong. And don’t try lying to me!”
"I'm fine.”
"Y/N, you lie, I know you very well, you hide something, and you can trust me.”
There was no escape, you knew sooner or later you had to tell him what happened.
“You ever feel like you can’t breathe? Like the whole world is collapsing in on itself and no one notices? No one cares? Like you can’t escape it?”
"No, I've never felt it," he replied a confusedly.
"Forget it," you answered, trying to get out.
"Please, I love you and I want to help you.”
"Can we go somewhere else? I don't want others to know.”
You went to the bedroom you shared, you sat on the bed, and you took some air.
"Since my classmates found out I was a mutant... they played jokes on me and gave me horrible nicknames; especially the girls, once they left me locked up in the dark, I had to use my powers to get out, but that meant that the Sentinel Services were for my family and me to our house, I managed to run away thanks to my mom, but they did not make it. Bad things always happen to people I love because of me...
"Is that why you're turning away from everyone?” He interrupted you.
"I don't deserve to be happy...”
"No, don't say that you're not to blame for anything," Brock said, stroking your face.
"But...”
"You know, my mother and I ran away from my father, he beat us, in the end, I think we have some things in common, but that doesn't matter, I don't even care if you're a mutant or not, all I know is that I love you, I'll help you and I'll support you with everything.”
You smiled shyly, then you kept telling him everything that had happened over the years. He listened to you carefully while still hugging you.
He was going to be whatever it took to make you happy.
#Garieswritingchallenge#JBBNNMHAMChallenge#lins100celebration#brock rumlow x reader#brock x mutant reader#brock rumlow x mutant reader#brock x y/n#brock x you#brock x reader#brock rumlow x you#brock rumlow x y/n
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Mental Health Awareness Month Masterlist
Here’s where you can find a masterlist of the fics that have been posted by some incredible writers for my Mental Health Awareness Month Challenge!
I’ll be adding to this as more fics are submitted! Thank you to everyone who has participated!
Reminder: This challenge deals with mental health. Please be sure you read all of the warnings provided by the authors on the fics!
Marital Bliss by @trillian-anders (Steve Rogers/Reader)
Moksha // Fernweh Collection by @captain-kelli (Bucky Barnes/Reader)
Suffocation by @nekoannie-chan (Brock Rumlow/Reader)
Sunbeams & Rhythms by @avintagekiss24 (Steve Rogers/blind!black!reader/Bucky Barnes)
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hey darling! can i have the prompt “You never have to ask, you know that right? Say the word, and I’ll do it.”? thank you x
Absolutely!
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hey! i’ve just stumbled upon your writing challenge (love it btw, it’s so awesome to have mental health experiences highlighted and explored like this!) and i wondered if i could nab sentence prompt #4 please!? if i can, it’ll be posted through my sideblog @bethycupcake ☺️ hope you have a good day
For sure!
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Hi, my darling Mel! Can I get "This Song Saved My Life" for your writing challenge? An idea just popped up in my head and I'd like to make it happen. 💕
Absolutely!
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Hi! I really love the idea of your challenge! Can I have sentence prompt #8 please? Thanks!! 💖
Sure thing!
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Hi! I absolutely love your mental health writing challenge. Can I please join with sentence prompt #2 and bucky x reader? 💕💕💕
Absolutely!
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I would LOVE to participate in your writing challenge. I choose "Unsteady" by X Ambassadors. Thank you.
Sure thing!
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Gimme dat Dialogue Prompt Number 2. I need me some soft soothing on a bed in a supersoldiers arms 👀❤️🥰 -jbbuckybarnes
You got it!
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