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baratiddyappreciator · 4 months

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Hey, can I ask you for headcanons from the s/o in which it is the Reader, who has an eating disorder (specifically anorexia).

Thenk you!

I hope everything is spelled correctly, I'm average in English.

Your spelling is fine! I can get this one written out no problemo! I feel it important to mention that if you're struggling with anorexia to seek help. You're not alone, and it's better to have you in this world, no matter how hard things may be. TW for eating disorders, continued under the cut.

Baki:

He worries about you all the time. He notices when you're looking more tired or pale than usual, he knows you're already a light person, but he notices right away when you feel lighter. It's not just that he's getting stronger, but you're losing weight, and he's not going to let that slide.

He will absolutely try to get you to eat more, he doesn't want to watch you wither away in front of him. He loves you, and while he knows you're going through it when you do eat, he does hold your hand and encourage you.

He knows what it's like to wake up that thin, to have your bones hurt because you haven't eaten enough, though his was for a different reason, he still knows who to call. Retsu's cooking has straight up healing powers, and they're both going to make sure you finish a meal.

He gives you a lot of "safe" foods to snack on during the day. Crackers, granola bars, all that stuff. He wants to make sure that you're eating something over the course of the day, though he would prefer it to be a proper meal.

Hanayama:

That's not going to fly with him. You need help, and he's going to get it for you. He'll drag you to the hospital and get you a doctor that can help you start to recover. He wants you to be well.

He has stashes of your safe foods around the house and he expects you to at least have some throughout the day, if not a proper meal. He hires some of the best cooks so that you get to eat the best foods, and while you may not like it, the food is delicious.

If he finds out that you haven't eaten, he's going to hand you a snack and watch you eat it. He'll hold you the entire time, make sure you feel safe, but you're not going to be able to get away with not eating around him.

Seeing you so thin and sickly looking reminds him of how his mother looked before she passed, and he really doesn't want to lose someone else, especially if they're shriveling away.

Chiharu:

He doesn't really get why you're struggling with an ED, you'd be beautiful to him regardless of what you looked like and food tastes good, but regardless of that he is there for you. He hypes you up at every meal because he knows it's hard for you, but you've gotta do it.

You want safe snacks? The entire house has safe snacks and foods all around in little cubbies and baggies. He's even added hangers around the house in visible spaces so you can see your safe snack and a baggie of little love notes he wrote for you.

You don't want to eat because you think it'll be too many calories? He'll get two servings of the thing you think looks tastiest and he'll let you pick at his food, he'll encourage you to do so. He'll take the calories for you, as long as you're eating, he's happy.

If you start losing more weight he'll pull you aside and admit how scared he is of losing you because of it, he'll even get down on his hands and knees and beg you to eat something. He'll be strong for you, but he'd like you to be strong for him too.

Katsumi:

He's got resources to get you help, be it a psychologist or a doctor. He wants to help you get better, because he doesn't want you to feel sick, unwell or unworthy. He loves you with every fiber of his being.

He's got safe snacks in the kitchen, but not an overabundant amount because he's not wanting to pressure you into eating too much, but they're there and he only checks to see if he needs to grab some more.

He does buy a lot of fruit and vegetables for you, and will, at random, walk up to you with a fruit bowl or a veggie platter so you can both have a healthy snack. He'd rather you have something small than nothing at all.

Big meals are scary, he knows that, but he needs you to try, for him and for yourself. He doesn't expect you to finish the plate entirely, he knows that that's not always reasonable, but he does ask that you at least have a few bites of each thing on the plate.

Jack:

He himself was had an ED when he was younger. He wouldn't eat a lot and would train himself to the point of passing out, so he understands your situation better than anyone here. That being said, he's going to help you get better no matter what.

Be it safe snacks in the places you frequent the most, as well as some less safe snacks in the kitchen, or if it's packing a bit of food onto a large plate to make it seem like there's only a little bit, he's doing his best to help you slowly get back to full health.

He knows you won't always finish a plate, but he won't eat until you have three bites. That's when he knows that you're actually eating, and he'll start on his own food, which he deliberately packs thick on a smaller plate so it looks like he's eating a lot (which he is).

There's some point where he notices you getting a bit thinner and more tired, and he'll come lay with you in bed and be incredibly vulnerable with you. He promises that he'll hold you accountable if you help keep him accountable.

Kosho:

He goes to his big brother for help, first and foremost. He knows you were unwell, but he didn't know that you had an ED, and he's not afraid to admit that while he doesn't know how to handle it, Kureha might. He'll help you, he promises.

He doesn't really know about safe snacks, but he'll have snacks available to you. Fruits, granola bars, cheese, meats, all of it, he's got them packed in little containers that you can take and nibble on.

He knows that meals might be hard, but he tries his best to get you to eat something. Also, his bathroom scale mysteriously goes missing. Did he throw it away or simply hide it, he'll never tell you.

If he notices that you've been having a rough time, he'll take you out on a walk, holding your hand and taking you somewhere quiet. He wants you to see how much he values you being around, and he wants you to know that all of these views he's showing you would be much more dull without you there.

Kureha:

He figures it out pretty early on, and while he's willing to wait for you to tell him, if he notices that you're getting worse or deteriorating, he will get you help. There's no ifs, ands or buts about it, if he feels like you need it, he'll even get you under a hold if he feels it's necessary.

He gets you a treatment plan, and he helps you stick you it religiously. You're not skipping any meals, and they start small, working up to full ones as you recover.

The only weigh-ins are the ones you get when going in to the doctors for a check-up, he doesn't want you to worry about your weight, he just wants you to focus on recovering. If possible, he doesn't let you hear what the results are, but he does encourage you.

Lots of silent staring at you. He's not disappointed or anything, he's just watching you, making sure that you're really still there with him. He'll be a lot sweeter, kissing you on the forehead at random. He wants you to feel loved.

Retsu:

Blind panic. Is his food not good enough? Did someone say something to you? How long has this been happening? How didn't he notice sooner? He's in a panic and just winds up hugging you so tight you can't breathe.

He wants to help you, so he sits you down and has you go through a list of safe foods that you're willing to eat. He'll make them for you, snacks, meals, all of them, but he wants you to get the minimum caloric intake every day, and he wants that to be done with your preferred meals.

He knows that there are good and bad days, he wants you to know that he's there for you regardless, but on bad days, he helps you have smaller, lighter meals so it doesn't feel like you're eating as much while still getting the needed calories.

He can't sleep unless he's holding you. He needs to know that you're safe and still with him, and he won't let go until the sun rises.

Doppo:

You mention it and he sits you down to talk about treatments. Therapy, being hospitalized, all of that, he talks to you about what you're willing to do. He's thankful you told him that you're struggling.

He'll try his best to help you. Once there's a treatment plan in place, he's shockingly good at following it. Not for himself, mind, he's terrible when it comes to himself, but for you? It's like a new religion.

Snacks? Of course! Just come with him to a store and pick out ones that you like, but he'll get you some that he likes too so you have some variation. Much like Retsu, he wants you to get the minimum caloric intake at least, so if your snacks aren't enough, you can have his. Meals are taken care of too, don't worry about those. He'll help you math it out so that you can have the minimum while feeling comfortable.

He tells you that you're beautiful all the time, at random. He'll just look over at you with a love-filled look, smile and tell you that he loves you, that you're beautiful. He'll then drag you into his lap to hold you for a minute.

#baki the grappler #baki son of ogre #baki dou #grappler baki #baki headcanons #baki hanma #hanayama kaoru #chiharu shiba #katsumi orochi #jack hanma #kosho shinogi #kureha shinogi #retsu kaioh #doppo orochi #TW: eating disorder #TW: anorexia

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ourgirlworld · 3 months

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how to get a victoria's secret angel's body.

all bodys are different and work in different ways. height and genetics do play a role in weight loss BUT so does diet and working out. if you use my tips you may get an angels body but, it may take up to a year. everyone starts somewhere so if your heavier now you'll loose faster. go at your own pace. if you can't do a workout don't quit, just modify it. remember it's okay to mess up and eat a few chips but, that doesn't mean it's okay to have a "fuck it" mindset and binge. i wish you girls lots of luck on your weight loss journey!

WORKOUT

i know, i know you don't want to workout but, you won't get an angels body without it. you can start slow and easy and then do hard and fast paced workouts. for example you could do 10 minutes of dancing everyday and each week add 10 minutes. i recommend cardio and pilates. for cardio the angels like to go on walks, jump rope, and light jogs but, not fast paced running as it will make you hungrier and your more likely to injure yourself. make sure to take breaks and drink a lot of water! for pilates, the angles have trainers but, you can either go to a studio or do mat pilates. most of the angels do mat pilates. you can find classes on youtube for free. i recommend move with nicole (explains everything very well, her voice is SO calming, and has tons of videos for different levels.), lottie murphy (very good for beginners, and explains things clearly.), and lidia mera (better for more advanced people as she doesn't talk during them, work very well and make you sweat.). i recommend getting a yoga mat and resistance bands if you can! resistance bands do help build and tone muscle faster and a yoga mat is a definite need especially if your on a hard floor. once you have better stamina and can do harder workouts i recommend trying the "38 step victorias secret model workout". also remember STRETCH!!! stretch before and after EVERY workout, it leans out your body and muscles and is just good for your body.

DIET

dieting is hard, i know but, to have an angel's body you need to. you need to be a calorie deficit to lose weight. a calorie deficit is burning more calories than you eat. the angels all eat different things but, stay have the same type of diet (usually). they eat 3 times a day and most of them talk about their love for food and how they still snack. my tips for cravings and snacking are: find a healthier alternative to it, let yourself eat it once in a while it's okay, and eat bigger meals so your not as hungry. for breakfast you should have a smoothie, oatmeal, granola and fresh fruit with low-fat greek yogurt, or grain bread with low-fat cottage cheese and fruit (my personal fav!!). for lunch you should have chicken with rice, a salad with chicken, or a veggie soup. for dinner you should have something with a lot of protein to keep you full all night for example, soup, chicken and rice, grilled fish/chicken with fresh veggies. your meals should be four to five hours apart. when you eat breakfast in the morning your metabolism speeds up so you may be hungrier during the day. make sure to drink plenty of water! i recommend 2 liters to start off. some of the angels drank 1-5 gallons a day which is NOT safe and very dangerous. 1 gallon is good at MAX.

GOOD LUCK ANGELS!!

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fitnessfacts00 · 4 months

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10 BEST VEGETARIAN WEIGHT LOSS BREAKFAST

WHAT BREAKFAST IS GOOD FOR WEIGHT LOSS FOR VEGETARIAN?

Starting a weight loss adventure does not suggest sacrificing flavor, especially when it comes to breakfast, which is the most important meal of the day.

In this entire guide, we will find out the world of vegetarian breakfasts, exploring the exceptional 10 alternatives that are not the tasty but also conducive to your weight loss desires.

Get prepared to kickstart your mornings with a burst of taste and nourishment.

1. Protein Packed Smoothie Bowl

Blend non dairy yogurt with leafy veggies like spinach, antioxidant-wealthy berries, and a scoop of plant-based protein powder for a creamy, nutrient-dense powerhouse. Top with wheat granola, chia seeds, and chopped nuts for introduced texture and fiber.

2. Avocado Toast Delight

Take your breakfast sport to the next stage with constantly popular avocado toast. Toast made totally of grains with mashed avocado, topped with luscious cherry tomatoes, and a dash of chia seeds for crunch. This combo is a sensory overload of fiber and flavor.

3. Greek Yogurt Parfait with a Twist

Layer undeniable Greek yogurt with berries, grain granola, and a drizzle of honey or maple syrup for a sweet and pleasurable breakfast. For an extra protein increase, keep in mind adding a dollop of nut butter.

4. Energizing Oatmeal Bowls

Bid farewell to sugary cereals and embrace the hearty goodness of oatmeal. Add sliced fruit, nuts, and a dash of cinnamon to make a breakfast that no longer only keeps you full till lunch but additionally helps your weight loss efforts.

HOW TO LOSE 30 POUNDS VEGETARIAN?

Losing 30 kilos on a vegetarian weight loss plan includes implementing a balanced and calorie-managed ingesting plan, physical sports, and adopting a wholesome way of existence.

Here is a guide to help you gain your weight loss dreams. [best vegetarian weight loss breakfast]

#vegan weight loss #vegan recipes #weight loss diet #losing weight #veganism

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dizzysdomain · 2 years

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Here Are Some Smart Tips For Losing Weight

If you’ve ever just needed some great tips for losing weight, we have that for you here. Weight loss can be just a matter of making the right choices, but how do you know what those choices are? The rest of this article will attempt to shed some light on things you can do to lose the weight you want to lose. To be more effective at losing weight, try adding more spicy foods to your diet. This will result in an increased metabolism, which in turn burns fat at a faster rate. It isn’t necessary to make foods as spicy as you can bear – just a touch of spice can make a positive difference. Be sure to not start off too strong, as you may quickly burn out. Help yourself lose weight at work smoothie diet by making changes to work habits that don’t help your goal. Instead of gossiping in the breakroom, walk around the block or up and down the stairwell. Stay away from the vending machine by bringing healthier snacks to work. Nosh on almonds, walnuts, low fat granola bars, or celery sticks with peanut butter to help keep hunger cravings away. Tips for Losing Weight: Try New Healthy Food Try new foods when accomplishing weight loss goals. Borrow healthy eating cookbooks from the library or purchase some for your own use. Explore new ways to make healthy foods on the Internet. Share your new-found recipes with friends on social networks. This will help you find new and interesting ways to try new foods that are healthy for you. When trying to lose weight, you have to exercise daily. It is very important to get into a habit of exercising. Making exercise a habit will help you remember that it needs done and it will seem like it is not work. Exercising can be very beneficial for you, but you must stick with it. Do not forget to consult your doctor before going on any weight loss plan. Your doctor needs to confirm that there are no underlying causes for your weight gain. He can review your weight loss plan and verify that it is appropriate for you. The most important thing is that you must be healthy. The best way to accelerate weight loss is to include some sort of weight training regiment. One pound of muscle burns ten times the calories as one pound of fat, and that is just sitting idly. So next time you go to the gym don’t just hit the treadmill, but hit some weights to, your waist line will thank you. Tips For Losing Weight: Read the Labels A helpful way to lose weight is to start reading the labels on the food that you eat. Doing so will make you aware of the good and bad chemicals that are in your food. Reading the labels also familiarizes you with the amount of calories you will be consuming. This knowledge can be a deterent to eating unhealthy, which can lead to weight loss. If you are trying to lose weight, a great tip is to use natural applesauce to spice up your foods. Natural applesauce makes a tasty dip to use on certain fruits like bananas and melons. Not only is it very tasty, but applesauce also has many antioxidants that aid in weight loss. Weight loss is often about making mindful eating choices. One of the best ways to be mindful about eating is to be mindful about where you eat. Eat at a table, with silverware and a napkin. This sounds so basic, and yet so many people eat mindlessly, standing at a counter or in front of the fridge or the TV. But if you restrict where you eat to the table, you are compelled to be more mindful about where and when you eat, which will automatically limit the amount of mindless eating you do. Some restaurants make it easy to determine which choices will be smartest for those on a diet. Others, not so much. If the menu doesn’t make it clear, ask your server to indicate the healthiest choices available on the menu. If nothing looks appropriate, and that does happen, ask your server if they can make you up a fresh fruit plate or whether they have any vegetarian options. Restaurant cooks appreciate the chance to cook something off-menu, and you’ll get a healthier meal. Eating out can be scary for many people on a diet. Use your server to help you and ask them to tell you what are the healthiest meals on the menu. Many menus will also have a low calorie section. You can make your choice from that, and still have an enjoyable meal. Tips For Losing Weight: Be Sure To Keep Up With Your Workouts Stop making excuses to avoid working out. If you really are busy, set up a schedule where you can exercise sometime during the week and stick to it. Even 10 minutes is better than nothing at all. You should see that this won’t interfere with your schedule and that you can keep your productivity levels exactly the same. If you experience an uncontrollable craving for something juicy and sweet, always opt for fresh fruit. Many people mistakenly believe that most bottled fruit drinks and vitamin-enriched beverages offer the same nutritional value as an apple, strawberry or banana. The opposite is true. These drinks have far less nutrients and far more calories than most fruits. If you find that your are a person that is always on the go, keep some portable nonperishable food in your purse or a bag for an easy on the go meal. Try some peanut butter and crackers, granola bars trail mix or some fresh fruit. Anything that is healthy and can be eaten on the move. Here are some dining tips for losing weight. When ordering food at restaurants or fast food places, buy smaller portions. If you usually buy a foot long sandwich, buy a 6 inch instead. When at a movie theater buy a small popcorn. If you are going through a a drive-through, order a small hamburger and small fries instead of “super sizing it.” You will eat less calories per meal. In the end, it all comes down to your choices. No one can force you to eat right or exercise, but sometimes we need a little help understanding what good choices are. Hopefully we have been able to shed some light on that for you in this article.

#the #smoothie #diet #plan

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anilguptablog · 2 years

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#benefits-of-granola

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faynice · 2 years

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5 Easy Ways to Boost Your Metabolism

1. Don’t skip breakfast; The morning meal jump starts your metabolism and helps to prevent bingeing later in the day. A cup of coffee does not count the caffeine and added sugar may give you a bit of energy and suppress your appetite for a little while it is sure to back fire into severe hunger and you will be more likely to overeat later. Breakfast should include complex carbohydrates like whole grain (granola or oatmeal), along with some protein and fat (low-fat yogurt or milk), will keep your energy levels even and hunger in check.

2. Eat more often; Get into the habit of eating every three to four hours or at least four times a day. Eating frequently stabilizes blood sugar, when blood sugar drops too low you want to eat a lot. By keeping your blood sugar stable you can control your appetite and keep you metabolic rate high. When you go many hours without eating your body will compensate by slowing down to conserve energy this effect hurts your weight loss efforts.

3. Eat protein at every meal; Protein will help to reduce your appetite, it takes more energy and time to digest, in effect you feel full longer than eating carbohydrates alone. Research shows that eating more protein can help you lose weight without cutting calories. Try these protein possibilities: turkey on whole wheat; hummus and pita; vegetarian chili; fruit and nuts; or protein snack bars that contain 12 or more grams of protein.

4. Hold off on snacking; Many of us grab a snack for quick energy when we are feeling tired. But do not confuse true hunger with fatigue. If you are feeling tired go for a 15-20 minute brisk walk. This will raise your heart rate and give you a boost of energy. Follow it up with a large glass of cool water. If you are truly hungry have a protein and complex carbohydrate rich snack like; whole wheat crackers and peanut butter or cheese.

5 Consume enough for your body’s needs; Eating too little slows your body’s metabolism the same way eating to infrequently does. If you want to lose weight, do not slash your calories too drastically. Instead, cut out some of the extras in your diet things like soda, juice, packaged goods or candy. Processed foods tend to be high in fat and calories and low in vitamins, minerals and fiber.

Also checkout this content; https://sites.google.com/view/loose-weight-without-exercise-/home

#best way to lose weight #weight loss #goal weight #weightwatchers

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monster-bait · 3 years

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Anzan the Drider Head Canons; ko-fi request

My patrons got to read these a few days ago, courtesy of @1wren79′s ko-fi request!

Warning for driders, if you’re arachnophobic, this is your chance to keep scrolling!

(featured art by @ilustrariane)

Before finding his way to Ladybug, he’d not had the luxury of a stable home since his adolescence. Once they come of age, unmated males are turned out of their communities, like baby birds being pushed from the nest. The reason is two-fold: no self-respecting elder wants their own mates sniffing out the potent scent of a younger male’s sex pheromones, aka the olfactory equivalent of a lighted billboard advertising FREE YOUNG COCK, HELP YOURSELF. Potent, demanding...Ladybug literally goes cross-eyed from the smell of him! 😂 As those sorts of public advertisements of virility were less than appreciated by the community at large, the youngins have to go. The other angle of it: as Anzan tells Ladybug, marriages are a tightly brokered business. Securing a good match for one’s son or daughter requires both money and influence in an extremely competitive and harsh culture. Families begin working to secure these all-important, highly-coveted matches as soon as drider babies are born. To have a son reach mating age without having a secured marriage contract is a sign of poor standing, of limited resources, a family’s shame; shame they are eager to be rid of.

Anzan works in tech, as a network security specialist. Ladybug is *shocked* when she learns he has a lucrative career. Even though his rent was always paid on time, she never really considered where his money was coming from. (Like...did she think he was just in her attic lifting weights for six months?) ((to be fair, he was probably lifting weights part of the time...I mean, look at him!)) She feels rather foolish once they’re together as a couple—she took in a boarder to keep from losing her house, while said boarder could easily buy her house several times over. Despite his comfortable circumstances, he is very used to living on the fringes and going without.

Drider courting culture is all about gifts and tokens (even though matches are secured early, traditional courting customs are observed.) Drider culture is largely matriarchal, with the females at the top of the family. Daughters are prized, as bride prices can lift a family from one social stratum to another, and males are expected to show their worth through gifts during courting. Having someone to spoil is a *revelation.* Anzan has a hard time breaking out of the mindset that his role is to provide for Ladybug in every way—do the shopping, protect their home, procure anything she might need so that she does not have to leave the safety of their home (because again: mates are prized and jealously guarded.) He defers to her in almost everything. She thinks it’s because he feels insecure in their relationship and with living in the town, and that’s part of it, although it’s a much smaller part than she assumes. Deferring to the household female is simply the mindset with which he was raised, and having someone to buy gifts for makes him giddy. (As giddy as Anzan gets, which is still 😐.)

Conversely, the coven in which Ladybug was raised places more importance on acts of service. If you got my newsletter this past weekend, you know all about love languages! Ladybug is a bit bewildered by the gifts at first, again, because she has different assumptions about why he’s buying her things, but as their relationship progresses, their love languages begin to meld. His gifts become less material and *very* specific to her—a bouquet of wildflowers she’s not familiar with (she decides she doesn’t want to contemplate where he found them, and definitely doesn’t want to contemplate him trespassing at Applethorpe Manor in the middle of the night to pilfer their garden,) or a typically hard-to-find potion ingredient, and he begins to pick up on her desire for “acts of service”—taking on some of the restoration and repair work around the house, constructing her outdoor sabbath shelter and assisting in her ceremonies. She buys him a giant sampler of fancy coffees for their first Yule together, and he is tickled pink to be on the receiving end of a gift, particularly one that he loves. (Tickled pink: 😐) His antics with the flowers are a Plot Point™ in an upcoming Monster Match revisit of Alder the ghillie dhu, which will be posting in the next week or so!)

He LOVES movies. Part of “living on the fringes” meant going without traditional entertainment, and now he can’t get enough. He’s always shocked by the twists and turns in thrillers, develops a passion for foreign vampire costume dramas, can’t get enough of human-nonhuman buddy comedies. He’s turned part of the cellar into a home theater, and Ladybug loves indulging him in snuggling at his side to watch True Crime Dramas and Lizardperson nature documentaries. Big giant drider boyfriend utterly spellbound by totally predictable romcoms? It's more likely than you think!

As you already know from the Wheel of the Year stories, he outwardly has a hard time showing his emotions, but it’s worth remembering that the series is from Ladybug’s POV. To him, humans are OVER THE TOP in their emotional displays, and he’s the normal one. His stoicism does tend to lead to communication breakdowns in their relationship, but it’s very much a two-way issue. In general, he’s getting better at letting Ladybug into his head, and under that stern countenance, there's a very wicked sense of humor hiding. He possesses a “the ends justify the means” streak a mile wide, and I think Ladybug would be horrified at the ease with which he was willing to commit petty crimes.

Driders are not readily accepted into mixed societies, as they’re thought of as being hyper aggressive, extremely calculating, and generally vicious...reputations that largely stem from the lengths families will go to in order to secure marriages for their offspring. As a result, those males who are turned out of their communities are set up for solitary lives as outsiders, with no expectations of ever being accepted anywhere. Cambric Creek is a very rare community for accepting driders within the city’s confines, and even then it’s only just. Anzan and Philomel are the only driders in Cambric Creek, and Anzan is the only one who lives in town. (Philomel lives on the outskirts of town, practically in the woods. As Lettie says in The Watchers: “she’s running from some man or her family.” Lettie’s not wrong.) The residents of Cambric Creek juuuuust barely tolerates their drider neighbors, and that’s with both driders keeping mostly to themselves. Anzan and Philomel are both rarely seen, they both work from home, and typically leave their homes only at night. Neither are nocturnal, but they’re not immune to the whispers and fear from their neighbors, and take pains to minimize contact with others.

I’ve tried to give Cambric Creek a glossy veneer: everyone talks about how inclusive and welcoming it is, the housing market is extrememly competitive, the schools are well-funded and well-regarded for inclusivity, everyone is crunchy granola impressed with themselves...but if you look beneath the surface, the residents have their fair share of prejudices and pre-conceived notions. Anzan and Ladybug appear in Parties, glimpsed by Tate during his very first visit to that made-up place Silva lives, Corduroy Falls (insert Silva’s eyeroll here), and his immediate reaction is CALL THE POLICE, THERE’S A DRIDER. They are *not* a common species to see out and about, so Anzan is very much a fish out of water in our story, and that impacts the way he lives, as his main concern is for Ladybug, how she’s perceived, and keeping her safe. Spirits save the fool who ever thinks to do her harm, for the assumption that driders are aggressive and violent is not completely unfounded.

The resident of Slade Manor only *thinks* she’s spying on the drider next door. From his vantage point in the attic, Anzan spies on her all day long 😂 He is stealthy and sneaky and snoopy, and knows more about the neighbors than any of them realize.

Thanks so much, @1wren79, this was a lot of fun!

If you have a burning desire to know how Bodi the Lizardman shops for pants or how Tate takes his tea, all ko-fi contributions earn a headcanon for the character of your choosing! (Length/complexity based on ko-fi amount, ko-fi in header)

#Exophilia #monster boyfriend #drider #drider boyfriend #monster x human #monster x f human #monster lover

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northbirdblog · 9 months

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Super Seed Granola

Need a morning energy boost? This recipe is for you!

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

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"I don't fucking need you. I don't fucking need anyone."

(ideally said to reinforce an angry, apathetic façade)

CW: Panicked whumpee, trauma response, discussion of stabbing/murder, defiant/angry whumpee, referenced prostitution/dubcon, brief internal dehumanization reference

Jake Gets Stabbed: First Second Third Fourth

Also includes @nonsensicalwhump’s prompt ‘don’t fucking touch me’

There was an old backpack already in the closet when he moved into this place. It was worn around the edges, with safety pins all along the top because the zipper had long since broken, an olive green that might have been brighter, once upon a time. The bottom’s duct-taped in layers to hold it together. There are more safety pins holding seams together along the side, another strip of tape where there’s smeared permanent marker, too destroyed for Jameson to even read it.

The backpack looks like Jameson feels, wrecked and ruined and trying valiantly to stay together at the seams, only to come apart anyway.

He stuffs a package of goldfish crackers into the backpack on top of the three pairs of boxers and two shirts and one pair of pants he’s already put inside. Then he adds the bit of beef jerky he keeps up on the top shelf in the closet, where he has to climb onto a box to even reach it.

His heart hammers in his chest, and when Allyn’s fingertips brush along his shoulder blades through his shirt he jerks away from them, shoving some granola bars in, too. “Don’t fucking touch me!” He snaps, but all he wants is to collapse back into their arms, let them tell him it’ll be okay again, and believe it.

But he can’t believe it.

Their rainshower voice is a lie, the taste of ozone and the relieved wash of cool water is a lie, it’s all a fucking lie and it always fucking was.

“Jameson, no one is asking you to leave,” They say, voice low and soothing, their hands out but not quite touching him now. He glances over his shoulder at those long, long fingers, graceful elegant hands made for gesturing at the parties they tell him about. Fingers entirely unlike his own, the pinky that won’t quite close all the way anymore, the scars layered over them from every time they were hit until they bled, until he begged for more.

“No one has to,” Jameson says, staring down at the empty space in the top of the backpack. Does he own so little? Does he even own any of this? He can’t take the carvings in the closet wall, and that’s most of what he even wants to take. His proof to himself that he was a person, however briefly, before he goes back out to lose it all over again. “I killed m-my fucking-... the person who believed I c-c-ould be better, I killed him-”

“He’s not dead,” They say softly, and their hair hangs over their face. It’s all mussed and frizzy, and he thinks they look even prettier and more handsome somehow, like they’ve rolled out of bed, even though he knows it’s because they’re worried, too worried to pull it back, too worried to care. “I, I heard them call a doctor. Someone’s going to sew it up and he’ll b-be-”

“He’ll bleed to fucking death because of me,” Jameson says, and the weight of it hits him now. He sits down on his bed but it’s more like he falls into it. It’s not his bed anymore, anyway. It’ll be some other rescue’s, someone more deserving than he’s ever been of regaining humanity.

Some other rescue will arrive and lay down here across from Allyn and maybe watch the moonlight move over their face while they look outside and think that no one in the world has ever been as lovely in silvery light as them, and Jameson will be out on the street fucking for cash or food or for ten minutes of safety from himself.

Unless he kills them.

He might.

He might do that, if he-... if he sees Robert in their faces, or Brute, or if he gets lost in himself again he could keep killing people and then he’s not any different, and it wasn’t just to escape and it wasn’t worth it, and from the second he walked away from Nanda’s house he was just going to turn into a killer, wasn’t he? And now he is one.

Now he’s-

Jameson leans over himself, pressing his forehead to his knees, feeling all the scars along his back stretch uncomfortably as he moves. He takes in slow, even breaths, fighting the despair that overwhelms him, buries, drowns him in what he’s done.

He’s just a hand, reaching out, but he’d thought he was reaching out for help. Instead he was holding a knife.

“I won’t let them kick you out,” Allyn says softly, but insistently, dropping to a crouch in front of him. Their hands still hover, wanting so badly to touch him, respecting that he doesn’t want them to. He can feel the warmth of them even so. Their hands are so close. “I promise. I’ll, I’ll convince them somehow to let you stay. We can figure this out, Jameson, you don’t have to be all by yourself.”

“It’s fine, I d-did it before, I can do it again. It’s fine.” Jameson talks into the fabric of his jeans, lets it muffle the emotion and flatten his words. His shoulders shake with a sob he catches before it ever leaves his throat.

“Jameson, you know we don’t do well alone, you need-”

“I don’t fucking need anyone!” His head jerks up, meeting their gray eyes with his own dark brown. He can feel air move against his skin and realizes with some dull surprise he’s crying again. “I don’t-... I don’t fucking need a keeper, I don’t need... I don’t n-need anybody, I don’t need y-y... I don’t-”

He can’t tell that lie.

“Please don’t leave,” Allyn says, and their hands come to rest gently on either side of his face now, cool dry palms against his flushed damp skin. “Jameson. Please don’t leave me.”

“I tried to kill the first person to help me,” Jameson whispers. “The first person who didn’t ask for anything back. I tried to kill him.”

Allyn shakes their head. “You tried to kill R-... Robert, whoever that was. You tried to kill someone who hurt you. You didn’t know. If you leave, I-I’ll go with you, I can... I can go with you.”

“No you can’t. You don’t know how t-to handle shit out there, Allyn, it’d-...” He looks over their faces, the tears in their eyes, tears he caused, it’s his fault they want to cry. It’s his fault everyone in this house wants to cry, now, it’s his fault they bleed in every possible way. It’s his fault, for thinking he was ever more than just another rabid dog.

“I’ll go anyway,” Allyn says, fiercely. Their voice pours on his tongue, it’s the taste of a raging rush of river, a flood in the middle of the night, washing out the dry earth. “I’ll go with you anyway, we’ll figure it out, Jameson, you and I. I won’t lose anyone else-... I won’t lose you.”

Jameson hitches in a breath that burns all the way down to his lungs, and his own hands rise, slowly, to rest over theirs. “But... it could happen again, Allyn. What if-... what if it happens again?”

“What if it does? So what? It’ll just be us, we can just run, we can do it.” Allyn just looks at him, with those tears starting to well up and run down their cheeks like the water he tastes when they speak.

He licks at his lips, forcing the words out with every ounce of strength he has left. “What if... what if n-next time it’s you?”

Allyn opens their mouth to respond only for there to be a soft rap at the doorframe, both of them turning to look.

Jake’s boyfriend, the one who used to be like them, stands there. His wide blue eyes are nearly red from crying, and his face is as flushed as Jameson’s. To Jameson, his eyes seem cold and glittering, shattered glass.

His voice tastes like pears when he speaks, and Jameson shudders wondering if there’s a needle slipped into the soft skin of the fruit.

“Jameson?”

The two of them don’t move, except that Jameson curls his scarred, rough fingers over Allyn’s smooth hands and holds on as they drift down. He only looks at Kauri and says, his hoarse voice still thick with his own dread and guilt and fear, “Yeah?”

Kauri rakes a hand back through half-controlled black curls and takes a breath. “He’s all sewn up, and there’s some... someone Nat knows downstairs now, with Dr. Masood. They think-... I don’t know. Probably not going to, uh, to d-die.”

Jameson nods, his grip tightening on Allyn’s fingers, but the other rescue doesn’t pull away or flinch, only holds right back, just as tightly. “That’s-... good. Kauri, I, I didn’t know-”

“Yeah, I get it.” Kauri’s voice sharpens, and Jameson closes his eyes. Pear and razor blades, blood on his tongue, not like Nanda. This blood doesn’t taste like pleasure but guilt and regret. “I know-... I get it. Chris more... more or less explained it to me. But we need to talk.”

Allyn squares their shoulders, jaw settling. “It’s not his fault. You can’t blame him, he didn’t know-”

“I need to talk,” Kauri says with effort, “to Jameson.” His eyes go to the backpack packed on the bed, not yet closed up, the symbol of Jameson’s intent to run. Something changes in his expression, but Jameson can’t read it. “I need to talk to Jameson alone.”

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @whump-tr0pes @raigash @moose-teeth @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @eatyourdamnpears @boxboysandotherwhump @whumptywhumpdump @whumpfigure @outofangband @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @thehopelessopus @butwhatifyouwrite @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump @newandfiguringitout @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whumpiary @endless-whump @burtlederp

#whump #recovering whumpee #defiant whumpee #angry whumpee #scared whumpee #running away #ptsd tw #jameson bb #allyn bb #erase to control #multiple whumpees #trauma response #guilt #freed whumpee #rescued whumpee #referenced stabbing #referenced murder #referenced pet whump

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captainsimagines · 3 years

Text

To Topple A Giant || Finale

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 10 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings in this Chapter: strong language; slight reference to past sexual abuse; fluff

Word Count: 6,700+

Author’s Note: Guys... the finale! I’m crying actual tears lmao. Thank you for reading my words. It means the world.

The New Compound, July 2025, 7:09pm

The extra hour of sunlight this time of year was the easiest excuse to use for lounging on the roof to watch the sun set slowly. The compound no longer touches the clouds, but it still provides a rich view of the landscape across. There is no blowing of horns or shouts of the road hecklers; it’s a simple hour of solace to rest your chin against your arms, eat your snacks, and watch the sky change colors until nothing remains but the possibility of counting the stars.

“Hey… can I sit here?”

Your heart does a little jump at the sound of his voice. Traitor, you want to say to the pesky organ, but remain quiet as Steve wanders over to stand by you. He’s close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“Do what you will, Captain.” It’s simple enough of a response, you figure. You look down at the granola bar in your hand, turning it over a few times before rolling your eyes at the silly gesture. “Granola bar?”

He nods, watching as you snap it in half, and grabs the piece. “Thanks.”

You eat in cooperative silence. You take small bites, saving the granola bar so you have something to focus on during the length of time Steve decides to stay up here. He seems to be doing the same. “So what brings you out here? Another depressive episode?”

“I happen to have the perfect amount of depressive episodes, thank you very much.”

You snort, “Ditto.”

He takes a small bite and rolls the granola over his tongue. “No, I uh… I actually came out here to watch the sunset.”

“That’s sweet.” You shrug and admit your reason to him without a second thought. “I came out here to be sad, so.”

“Thor’s visit isn’t doing you any good?”

Thor is genuinely looking better. He’s started braiding his hair again, exercising with the help of Quill and Bruce, and participating in conversation without being addressed first. Seeing him makes you happy, but there’s still a glint in his eyes that reminds you of the lowest point of his life. And his lowest point was also yours. Sometimes you just want to forget. “He looks better. Healthier, got some light back in his eyes. It’s just whenever we look at each other we think of the same thing, I guess.”

Steve hums low and his shoulder brushes yours. “Loki.”

“It’s good to reminisce and all but I’ve got my limits,” you say.

“What was the special connection between you and Loki anyway?”

You grin at such an innocent question. Steve had never been close to Loki, didn’t really like him much, but he tolerated the God wandering about. You figure he genuinely wants to know. “I met him a little bit before I was assaulted. Everyone in the compound had their suspicions but no one asked. It was like they were avoiding me but also trying to help, I don’t really know. It was a weird time. And Loki, after we caught that dragon thing and really, really properly met, just straight up asked me why I was so distant all of a sudden.” Your chest warms at the memory. “I told him. And you know what the first thing he said to me was?”

Steve shakes his head a little and his eyes follow the tilt of your mouth. “‘What a cunt’.”

He startles himself into a laugh, the rough word not expected. You continue, “It was the first time I laughed in four months.”

Steve follows your gaze out to the sunset. He suddenly feels guilty, out of the loop, sad. You had only mentioned your assault to him once when you discovered Tony’s afterlife gifts, and he never brought it up again. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice you were-”

“Bucky had just moved into the tower and all of your attention was on him. I don’t blame you for not seeing me.”

It’s true, but Steve doesn’t forgive himself. He’s had two years to check up on you and because of his own selfish choice, he’s let you slip from his fingers. A question bubbles from the back of his mind — one that he doesn’t think twice about finally asking. If he does, he won’t ask. “Do you miss… me?”

“That’s a stupid question.”

“Sam put the idea in my head and—”

You sigh, “Steve, it’s the fact that he had to put the idea in your head. I can lie and say I’ve been all fine and dandy, or I can tell the truth and say I’ve been all fine and dandy. Take your pick.”

Steve stares at you for a long moment, mouth parting around invisible words. You’re staring at the sunset, avoiding his gaze but aware of his eyes on you, and he misses you. He truly, terribly, misses you. He decides he’s got nothing more to lose — he’s already lost you. “Well, I miss you. Do with that what you will.”

The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes: wind in your ears, legs shifting when too much weight has been applied, tiny sniffs of the nose. You don’t really know what to do with that information. Steve misses you. And you miss him. But he doesn’t deserve to know that. There’s been no apology from him, just things he’ll do to appease Sam.

At the three minute mark, you groan quietly and turn to him. “Are you seriously still going to watch the sunset up here?”

Steve smirks and watches you from his peripheral. He really has missed being on the receiving end of your various tones of voices. “I have been told that I’m impossible to get rid of, so yeah.”

His company isn’t all that bad.

Present Day, 2025, 9:07am

Perhaps there were good things that came from being locked up for over two weeks, alone. Last time you were locked up with the team and there was absolutely no special treatment after that. Now you’re resisting the urge to burst out laughing as Steve piles on the seventh massive pancake on your plate; or rolling your eyes as Sam keeps asking if you want more maple syrup — ‘What flavor? We’ve got six!’ — and Peter’s drowning Bucky with questions about who he encountered at the wedding.

“Is it the same as Netflix Narcos?”

“No,” you say bluntly.

“Is the Amazon series legit? Like, did Omar really kill the DEA agent?”

“No.”

“Is Omar as evil as they say?”

“No.”

“Damn,” Peter groans, piling a forkful of pancakes into his mouth. “Nothing’s as exciting as it seems, huh?”

Everyone looks to him, then to each other.

Steve clears his throat, “I was literally shot.”

Mouth full, you follow. “And I was abused for years.”

“And I had to deal with them while with HYDRA,” Bucky says with his mouth full too.

“Man, they shot at me. That counts,” Sam adds.

“And I finally got to use the shield. While being shot at,” Scott says.

You interject, “Technically I was being shot at.”

Even with such a cloud of violence, with gruesome memories — memories that would just be shoveled into the pile of things that no one is ever going to talk about again — you all begin laughing. Poor Peter missed out on a lot, but he can put two and two together. He knows this is his only chance to ask before you all lock it away and call it just another mission. It doesn’t hurt to humor him.

And even though you won’t mention it to any one else unless they ask — this wasn’t just another mission for you or Steve. Things have changed and the both of you know it. The aches within your chest are no longer negative or a bother, but instead are blooming flowers that have laid dormant for years. You’ve been plucking petals for as long as the two of you can remember, and it’s about damn time you both end up on the same page.

Everything has been quiet. Sure, there are bounties on everyone’s head but when is there not? You’ve pissed off more cartel leaders and gang leaders and political enemies than you can count on two hands, so this enemy territory is not all that foreign. You recognize the high trees, the gray skies, the mud beneath your boots. But you’ve got friends on your team that know how to climb those trees; friends on your team that know how to move the clouds and make the sky the talk; friends on your team that would hump through mud and snow watching your six.

You can’t believe you even thought about leaving after the mission in the first place. This is where you belong, where all of you belong, because you’re the only ones with good hearts who qualify for the job.

As breakfast winds down, Steve takes the opportunity to sprinkle in moments of long-awaited public displays of affection. When you go to refill your orange juice, he sneaks a kiss on your cheek. When you go to wash your plate, he makes sure Peter is looking the other way before patting your ass. And when you’re the one to envelope his slim waist from behind, he melts in your combined warmth.

“So, about our date,” Steve inquires, cheeks turning pink but voice unwavering. He looks brand new, refreshed, and there’s a shine in his eyes that you haven’t seen since forever. You can’t remember the last time you have, but you figure it must have been back when the world hadn’t yet swallowed him whole. Now, he’s burning bright with the youth his soul has missed.

You jump up and down, “Ooo, exciting!”

Steve takes you by the waist, swinging you in every direction. It’s uncoordinated, messy, and not exactly dancing but it’s pure. “Chinese? Pizza? Just fries?”

“¿Por qué no los tres?” Pursing your lips, you wait for his answer.

“That can be arranged.”

You gasp dramatically, “You’re spoiling me.”

“Well I have two years to make up for it.”

That startles a laugh from deep inside your chest. “That’s gonna be our inside joke now, huh? Two of the worst years of our lives and we’re joking about it.”

He blushes along with you. “I think that describes our relationship perfectly.”

“Our relationship…” Your voice comes out like a melodic whisper and Steve feels it in his bones.

He grins down at you but before he can respond, someone enters the common room rather cautiously.

“Oh, now what the hell are you doing here?” Steve demands, pushing you to stand behind him. The gesture is nice, but completely unnecessary. Friday would have alerted the team if someone entered the grounds armed.

Agent Kavert raises his hands, “Relax. I’m not here to arrest you or anything.”

Steve tries to move his shoulders in a way where Agent Kavert can’t see your head. But you maneuver around him, somehow ending up peeking your head through Steve’s underarm. “If I know the law, and I think I do, you can’t really arrest someone in their own house anyway, right?” You pat Steve repeatedly on his side. “Right?”

Before Steve can respond, Agent Kavert speaks. With Steve guarding you, it seems the only thing Agent Kavert wants to do is get in and get out as fast as he can. “I just came to apologize. Ballistics came back and the evidence does show that you didn’t kill Ernesto Vega. It was Ramirez’s issued gun.”

Yeah, you think. The gun Seda stole.

“Oh, what a breath of relief! I almost forgot I was there.”

He sighs and his lips pull into a small smile. “You’re not gonna tell me where Ramirez is, huh?”

Steve takes this as his cue to leave you two alone, but not before squeezing your hand on his way out. He nods over to Peter, who’s still crouching in the kitchen, unseen by Kavert. Peter gives him an enthusiastic thumbs up, happy to spy for his Captain. But you know he’s really asking Peter to take care of you while he’s gone.

You let out a heavy sigh. Omar has been wanted for years for another murder he didn’t even commit. And now, he’s wanted for another. He may be a giant with morals, but even he can’t escape the gruesome reality that plagues the wicked.

“I don’t even know where he is. If you came looking for answers—”

“No, I just… Everything’s been so fucked up since half the universe came back. And the possibility of an Avenger being bad, having played us for years — I think it just scared a lot of people.” Agent Kavert actually looks sincere. He adjusts his footing and chuckles a little under his breath. There’s a fine line creasing his forehead, but it isn’t formed from stress. He’s smiling, an honest look, and his eyebrows pull inward. “And Shakespeare? Really?”

Rolling your eyes, you shrug and lean back against the counter. “When half the world disappears and takes your family and friends with it, there’s really not much else to do.”

And besides, Loki was really into Shakespeare.

You continue, deciding at the last second to throw Agent Kavert a bone about your past. “Shield didn’t know but Nick Fury did. So did Pierce. And when Shield fell, Fury just hid it even more.” You give him a half smile. “We weren’t helping the cartel. We were slowly taking it apart.”

Agent Kavert nods, thinking it over. “The deal Jackeline made with us was pretty simple. She’d tell us all the inside secrets that she knew and in exchange, no charges against her and none so serious for you.”

Your shoulders slump and you shoot him a blank stare. “Was it really that simple? Like, I could have just used her as my one free call?”

“Joke all you want. You should have called us when Shield fell. The double agent thing was risky and everyone needs help taking down a giant like that.”

“I did have help. Involving more people was never planned.”

“He was just as much our mission as he was yours.”

Agent Kavert, as sorry as he looks, still doesn’t seem to get it. But that’s fine, you think. Not everyone can. And you’re not in the mood to argue anymore. “No… he wasn’t.”

He seems to read your mind because he simply accepts your answer. “I really am sorry for accusing you. And for the government arresting you alone and letting the white man go free.”

A tiny snort tickles your nostrils. Agent Kavert is white, and it’s even more amusing considering he’s being serious. “Thanks… I guess.”

He turns to leave, seemingly normal, until he spins on his heel and claps his hands. “Oh! And by the way — don’t leave the country. The charges of conspiracy and murder have all been dropped. But there’s evidence of drug smuggling. So, you’re on house arrest.”

Your eyes widen and you reply with a sarcastic yell. “Thanks!” He turns to leave again. “You’re fucking with me, right?”

He glances over his shoulder, “Could not have let you just get away with it. Some of that smuggling was under no order from Shield at all.”

“You know I can easily disable that ugly ass ankle bracelet you’re about to give me?”

He chuckles low, and finally waves goodbye. “Goodbye, Agent Y/LN.”

You stand dumbfounded, slightly annoyed, but you figure it’s better than actual jail time. Peter rises from his hiding spot and walks over to you, blowing air from his mouth. “Friend of yours?”

You whip around to point a finger, scream and laugh mixing into one. “No friend!”

Peter finally hears that accent Steve can’t stop talking about.

It’s a tiny portrait, sealed in a tiny frame and hidden in a tiny room. The frame is black with professional wooden carvings that make the sides look like perfectly detailed tree trunks. It’s in between the portrait of Tony and Natasha’s bracelet. Tony wears the same AC/DC shirt Steve has somehow stolen and claimed as his own. He’s got this sarcastic grin, some type of wrench in one hand while his other rests on his hip. He stands in his lab, glasses pushed up onto his head and black soot smudged on his cheek. You think Peter snapped the photo back in 2017.

But the middle portrait is your favorite. It’s the only photo he ever allowed to be taken of him. Brushing your index finger against the glass, you trace the small outlines of Loki’s jawline, to his thin pink lips, to the bulb of his nose, to the waves of his hair. He sits caught off guard, book in his hand and in regular human clothing. He shoots a rather annoyed but joyful look over his shoulder as the camera was shoved in his face. You know for sure Wanda took that photo.

“You’re not dead,” you say as you study the blue of his frozen eyes. A God doesn’t die, you remember him saying. Loki was wrong about a lot of things, but you pray he wasn’t wrong about this. There’s a small part of you that wants to speak the same words to Tony and Natasha, but there’s only so many times the world’s axis can shift for a miracle. You tap the glass, sighing a breath of acceptance, and finally let go. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Smiling up at the ceiling, you think you’re right about this one.

It’s quiet. The only sounds are the mild ripping of wrapping paper and small ‘thank you’s’ from the team. Everyone got each other something — granted, everyone got something small for everyone. No matter how much Tony joked about still splurging on Christmas shopping, his promises weren’t exactly kept. He’s gotten everyone things they actually need or wanted. Steve, a new drawing pad; Natasha, a bright pink knit sweater; Rhodey, a new watch; Bruce, a pair of sunglasses; Nebula, a dark blue knitted sweater that she immediately presses against her cheek, eyes focused on the ground as she savors the soft brush; you, the full collection of Shakespeare's plays and sonnets. And he finally presents the baby’s crib to Pepper, constructed three weeks after she originally asked him to.

“I know how much you like to reenact A Midsummer Night’s Dream in your room,” Tony grins at you. Biting your bottom lip, you throw yourself at him and hug him tight. He returns the hug with just as much strength, if not more.

As the night goes on and midnight rings, your small group exchanges tight-lipped merry Christmas’s and happy holidays. Natasha retires to her room, a distant look in her eyes as she says goodnight. No one knows where Clint is.

Steve nudges your elbow with his once the room empties. He holds out a box with festive wrapping — snowmen with carrots for noses and a variety of pebbled smiles. “From me and Okoye.”

“You got me a gift?”

Steve’s brow furrows as he nods like it’s obvious. “Of course. You’re my friend.”

“Well, now I feel inadequate,” you laugh. It comes out wet and it’s then that you realize you’re tearing up. “I promise to reenact Midsummer for you, okay?”

Steve chuckles, “You got it.”

You unwrap it slowly, half wondering why Steve and Okoye teamed up to get you a present. You. Your stomach churns an innocent whirl.

It’s a long sleeved vest… or sweater. You can’t really tell until you pull it from the box. It’s intricately designed and it takes a moment for you to finally see it, to finally understand, and the moment you do you exhale a wracked breath.

It’s not Wakandan fashion. It’s threaded with the colors and swirls of a place you haven’t called home in years. It has red flowers down the vest portion and multicolored rows down the sleeves and back. It’s made from a thick fabric that’s rarely used this century. Vintage — home.

“Steve…”

Steve clears his throat, “Now, I only did the flower parts. Okoye found it unfinished in… um…”

And there, where tags from brands would usually be, is a small threaded engraving.

‘From Bucky, To our muñeca.’

“He didn’t get to finish it so I thought I would — you know, help? — so it’s really from Buck. Probably an apology for not letting you visit him in Wakanda.”

Steve tries to push out a laugh at his poor joke, but you can see how he’s faltering. You reach up and wrap your arms around his neck, dragging him down so his knees bend, and pour as much nonverbal thank you’s into the hug. He hesitates at first, arms floating awkwardly, until he swallows his fear and wraps his arms around your waist. He holds you to him tightly and breathes in the sweet scent of your vanilla shampoo.

“Thank you.” Your voice is small, but Steve regards the delivery as powerful.

You wear it once, that Christmas night, enveloped in its warmth as you slept. In the morning, you hang it in the back of your closet.

A knock on your bedroom door sounds through your headphones. Bucky peeks his head in, “Is now a bad time?”

Sitting up, you pull the headphones from your ears. “Nope. Just thinking about how I’ve lived several years in the span of one week.”

Bucky lugs in a sports bag in one hand and a manila file in the other. He places them at the edge of your bed and proceeds to bounce in the available space near you. “Yeah, that can be annoying.”

You attempt to shove him away as he tries to steal your blanket. “Did you need anything?”

“Yeah.” He lets you take it, and simply turns on his side to face you. “What’s gonna happen between you and Steve?”

It’s an innocent question, but you know Bucky well enough to notice when he’s stressed. Steve probably told him to mind his business. “We’re good.”

He inspects your face with squinted eyes, “I know what you’re thinking so cut that shit out. This isn’t one of those missions where the feelings will just go away.”

“Funny thing is, I believe you,” you admit, watching as his face does something unexpected. His smile drops suddenly, like he didn’t expect you to agree with him, and then it’s immediately back full force.

“Peggy and Steve - right person, wrong time. You and Loki - right person, wrong time. You and Steve, all those years ago — right person, wrong time.” A weird thing happens: you agree with him again. “But now, after everything — right person, right time.”

“It’s just weird feeling like it’ll actually work.”

“That makes us seem like we’re all broken, doll. We’re not.”

You turn so you’re facing him; two mismatched parentheses. “We’re just tired.”

“We’re just tired,” Bucky agrees, smiling. “I’m not saying don’t look over your shoulder whenever you feel like it. Hell, I still look over mine.”

Snorting, you roll closer to hug him. He pulls you into his chest. “You give amazing pep talks.”

“Yeah, I don’t know why they gave that trophy to Steve.” Bucky shares the intimate moment for as long as it takes before the blanket starts overheating. He groans as he sits up to retrieve the things he brought with him. “By the way, our mutual friend sends one last warm regards.”

Bucky throws the sports bag onto your lap. “What’s this?”

“Your shit.”

You don’t even want to ask him how he packed your things without your knowledge. “Kicking me out, Barnes?”

“Clothes, toothbrush, shampoo and conditioner, pads, the quilt I just finished knitting thank you very much,” Bucky lists and hands you the file. “Maribel found him.”

“Ramirez?”

“Your dad.”

You snap your head up to look at him. Bucky expects to see anger, hurt, maybe even betrayal. He was prepared for it. But you just look confused, lost for words, maybe even scared. “Goes by Richard these days. Lives with his wife in Wisconsin, no kids, keeps to himself.”

You flip through the files, holding your breath. The file is small, Richard’s information only covering the first page, the rest just drabble. He seems relatively normal, looks normal even; normal job, normal credit score, normal upbringing. It doesn’t even seem real. You close the file and set it aside. “So you are sending me away?”

Bucky smirks, “It’s a suggestion. But I took the liberty of doing the hard part for you.”

“Yeah, because packing my lady products is the climax of this story.”

It didn’t go unnoticed that Bucky called Richard your ‘dad’. Everyone either referred to Ernesto as ‘your father’ or by his name. Steve had said ‘dad’ a few times before he met him, then he never said it again. Hell, even you did sometimes.

It’s a sweet distinction and you’re certain Bucky said it on purpose. Bucky takes your hands in his, “It’s been a long time coming. But at least we can both say that the people who hurt us can’t hurt us any longer.”

You can. You really can.

Bucky’s already packed Steve’s shit as well. Steve’s just shoving extra socks into his bag when someone knocks on the door. He expects Bucky or Sam, final words of encouragement, but it’s Scott. And he’s standing there grinning like a mad man.

“So, what’s the verdict, Rogers? You going after her or not?”

Steve huffs a laugh, “Think you already know the answer to that, Lang.”

Scott closes the door behind him and leans back against it. He shoves his hands in his sweater pockets, “Not that it should matter, shut me up if I cross any line, but everyone supports this.”

“Weirdly, I think it does matter. We’ve had you guys picking sides for two years. Selfishly. Like we were having a fucking civil war after everything.”

“Yeah, well.”

Steve huffs a laugh. It’s always going to surprise him just how comfortable Scott is around him now. Not afraid to tease him or call him out on something he doesn’t agree with. It’s refreshing.

“I’m not giving up on her, Scott. Not again.”

Scott nods. Perhaps breaking the mission ethic code wasn’t a bad thing after all, Scott thinks. He gives Steve a proud smile, genuine. “Then I hereby declare our hanging conversation officially closed.”

Steve wanders from his bedroom, to the conference room, to the main living room without an end destination in mind, seeming to just follow his quick feet as they lead him around the halls of the compound. He’s proud of himself, really, because he truly believes he’s learned to swallow his pride, has opened himself up to the possibility of being happy, and accepted that the world has changed and will continue to alter whether he likes it or not. He was, is, and will always be a man out of time — he’ll never fit but goddamn does he feel settled. He hasn’t felt this sane since before the war — which one? — so he relishes in the feeling for a few calm seconds.

He feels tears well-up on his water line and feels the pressure in his temples. He’s at a crossroads — both proud of himself for finally choosing the path he wants and relieved that this week, this mission he has dreaded for almost ten years, is over. He doesn’t know if he should sleep for a month or occupy his time with other things awaiting repair. A build up of five years, grief and loss and happiness all weirdly mixed into one pot, and Steve simply hasn’t noticed the improper portions of each ingredient.

It’s too much.

He thinks about his mental health. Shot to Hell, he jokes with himself. He’s already got the virtual therapy appointments scheduled. He figures he’ll get better with time and if Steve knows one thing for sure, it’s that he’s got a whole lot of that.

He thinks about Sam and Bucky and Scott — his three best friends that have gone to the ends of the Earth and back for him, and who would proudly do it all over again. He thinks about their kind words, their gentle touch, their devotion that Steve still sometimes feels he doesn’t deserve.

And he thinks about you. To anyone else, this was written in the damn stars. No, there wasn’t anything extremely obvious in the first few years. You were friends. Friends that grew to consider each other teammates. Teammates that drew a drop of blood while fighting on opposite sides. Teammates that recognized the true endgame, teammates that helped each other escape, teammates that went silent for two years. Two years of no contact, no signal of survival. Then again, teammates who stood by as their world crumbled around them. Teammates who grew to be friends again, leaning on free shoulders and seeking help through happy conversations and long nights. Friends that brought the world together again, only to rip each other from their own. Friends into the most bizarre of enemies. And enemies back to teammates.

Steve wipes a hand down his face as he fixes the strap over his shoulder. The common room is empty — he likes it this way. That means everyone is either napping, getting food, visiting friends or family, simply living life. The silence is therapeutic.

His eyes fall on a crooked picture frame near the television. He tries to ignore it, almost to the door and ready for another road trip, but he steps back. Then forward, then back again. He groans in frustration of himself and moves to turn the frame back in place, holding it for a few seconds until it stays. But as he lets go, it tilts once more. He tries again — it tilts back.

He pulls the frame from the hook and turns it over. He rightly freezes, the presence of a small pink paper airplane taped near the edge knocking the wind from his constricting lungs. He pulls it off, careful to not tear the delicate post-it.

He never found it. Natasha probably placed it behind this very picture frame in the other compound for him to find. Surely the explosion should have destroyed it — but it didn’t. It’s right here, perfectly intact, just a smudge of dirt on one of its wings. The frame hadn’t been damaged either. It’s real.

He holds the thin piece of paper like it’s the most precious thing in the world.

Steve turns it over between his fingers a few more times, before he carefully folds it back in half and puts it in his wallet. “You’ve got some nerve, Nat. But I hear ya.”

Steve decides to write you back. He hides the letter in that sweater he knows you don’t wear anymore, in the far back of your closet, and marvels at the intricate stitching while he can. He poured his heart out, even if it’s not guaranteed you’ll ever see it.

‘Yes, I found your letter. I found it when I was looking for perfume in your suitcase. The tape was loose and I violated your privacy. I’m truly sorry for that.

But I felt compelled to write you back, in case the reverse happened and I died instead of you. I didn’t write it then, when you were drying your hair in front of that impossibly small mirror you so weirdly called ‘a stupid little bitch’. And you looked so beautiful. But I’m writing it now and maybe I’ll share it with you in person when we’re both ready.

When the world turned to dust, I held on to you. I know exactly why. Natasha bugged me about it also, teasing me whenever I would glance at you too long, or give you the last remaining Oreos I was planning on eating, or whenever I would leave your room in the mornings after a nightmare. She knew nothing was happening between us, but she had this smile whenever she caught me. Like she was happy I was comforting you, and in turn seeking comfort for myself.

You remember how her smile would tilt up more on the left side?

There isn’t a proper way to truly apologize for hurting you. But I will spend the rest of my life trying to make up for it. You at least deserve that.

I returned a different man. And I think that was for the better.

Yes, I wanted the quiet life. I still think I do. And I think you know this — you have always seen right through me.

I now know what Natasha saw. You irritate me, you damn near make me want to choke myself out, but I care for you. We hold each other up, and I’m always rooting for you, and I’m always by your side. No matter how annoying and smart-mouthed you may be.

You’re my best friend — I hope I’m one of yours.

Steve.’

There’s no one currently in the compound who really knows how to change the battery in your car. Bucky tries, does a rather good job too, but he claims he’s winging it and that you should call a mechanic just in case. He leaves you there with two random batteries on the ground, hood of your car open, and without any idea of what to do next. So you chill and wait for the mechanic you hope isn’t going to jack up the price just because he knows who you are.

But he doesn’t seem fazed by you at all — or at the fact he just had to drive through countless checkpoints and security checks just to get on Avengers property. He changes the battery and changes the oil, hooking you up with as many upgrades he can. He even offers to wash it until you thank him repeatedly and that Really, really, you don’t have to do that. Thank you so much!

“Quite a garage you got here.”

There are unfinished projects and random wires falling from the ceiling and enough tools to supply five garages. It’s messy, but it was Tony’s. You accept the compliment and see him out.

“Eh, make sure those windshield wipers work. I hear it’s gonna rain tomorrow.”

You thank him again. The clouds to the west are gray, getting darker as the expanse stretches, but from where you’re standing everything’s blue. You figure the mechanic was right: it’s gonna rain, and it’s gonna rain hard.

The mechanic did good, all things considered. You never thought your old, beat-up Honda could look a few years younger. You flick one of the wipers lightly, testing its strength. It holds, as does the other, but when you go to lift it up it stops halfway. Without wanting to break it, you don’t force it. There’s something blocking the switch.

You grab it before it can accidentally fall into a deep slot; the figurehead of a man, curly hair and beard that matches Steve’s, who also has a prominent and strong nose. You turn the coin over a few times before looking around the garage, down the street, at the remote area where the mechanic has just left. Standing there, mouth agape, you wonder just how in the world you missed the mechanic placing it there.

You were lacking in the spy department nowadays. Oops.

You know you’re not going to find Ramirez. But him giving this back to you? It was his way of saying he’s alright and that he owes you many thanks.

You pocket the coin and accept the fact you just got bested.

It should take a few hours before you hit the first motel. Wisconsin isn’t that far, but you do have to pass through about hundred “middle of nowhere’s”. You pull out of the garage and check your mirrors — completely unaware of the super soldier running full speed to the passenger door. Steve carefully throws it open, somewhat aware of his strength, and lands into the seat beside you.

You hit the brakes hard. “Oh my! Rogers!”

Steve sucks in a few heavy breaths, like he literally ran across the compound to make it. “What? I startle you?”

“What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing? Aren’t you on house arrest?”

You squint at him, “Touche.” Putting the car in park, you turn your whole body to face him. “Answer my question.”

“Thought you were just gonna leave without saying goodbye?” Steve asks, expression much more teasing than serious.

“I’ll be gone for three days tops,” you say, waving your hand in the air. Steve smiles at you, seemingly waiting for you to speak again. You roll your eyes, “You’re coming with me, aren’t you?”

Steve lifts up the small duffel bag you hadn’t seen when he first got into the car. He throws it into the backseat and smiles lovingly at you. “I’ve been told that I’m impossible to get rid of, so yeah.”

“Rhodey said that the ankle bracelet they gave me wasn’t a trusted model. Easy to break off, like they did it on purpose.” You lean toward him, holding your chin up with the palm of your hand. “Should be able to drive free for a few weeks before they suspect anything.”

“Already booked us a cabin for Thanksgiving.”

“What makes you think that I even want you to accompany me on this road trip? Did you like the first one?”

Steve clears his throat and mimes like he’s writing on paper. The next words out of his mouth make your legs turn cold. “No matter how annoying and smart-mouthed you may be, there’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be than here, there, and everywhere with you.”

You blink multiple times, as if that would fix your ears. “...You. Fucking. Didn’t.” Steve reaches over to try and hug you. “No, don’t.” He squeezes harder, smooshing your face in his chest. “Steeeeve!”

“It fell out of your suitcase during the mission and I just… looked,” Steve reasons. He allows you to escape his grip.

“You just looked?”

Steve sighs. He really does look guilty. He pushes a strand of your hair behind your ear, letting his fingers tickle your skin. “I’m sorry I read it. I’ll get out of this car for real if you want me to.”

You arch an eyebrow, “You’re a little shit, but I’m not mad. No one understands privacy these days.”

Steve smiles wide enough for his dimples to pop and his eyes to crinkle. “I’d follow you anywhere, doll.”

“Anywhere?”

“Just name it.”

Humming low, you lean forward. He follows your direction like you’re a lighthouse beaming with light, capturing your lips with his in a sweet kiss. He hooks a large hand behind your head to press you to him harder. You smell like that vanilla scented shampoo he loves so much and feels his heart constrict with a pleasant pulse.

You pull back for air and smile against Steve’s soft lips.

“Well, I’m headed for the middle of buttfuck Wisconsin—”

“Just drive!”

Bursts of laughter fill the car until you’re past the checkpoints and well onto the long roads. The clouds continue to turn darker but they’re inviting, alluring, and it’s not insane that both of you desire thunderstorms because they remind you of family.

Steve watches you from the passenger seat, memorizing the contours and edges of your profile. The roots in his heart begin spreading again; the meat of his heart filling with a soothing promise that his time on earth is no longer rootless. He’s dug his feet in, he’s watered all he’s needed to water, and he feels it spreading within him like newly blossomed flowers in the spring. He has a sudden urge to take out his drawing pad to immortalize the way your mouth tilts higher up on the right side when you smile, to record it forever.

But he’ll remember it. He’ll remember well into this timeline, several years down the road, and even when he’s resting in his grave. So he leans his head back against the seat and chooses to watch the curves of every expression you grace him with. He immortalizes the sound of your voice, the taps of your fingers against the steering wheel, and the accented way you say his name.

There’s a long drive ahead, but he’s excited for it. He’s excited for you. Steve promises himself that he’ll ask you a million questions, and give you a million answers, and share a million more stories.

Right now, he just needs to sleep.

THE END.

Taglist: @dumb-ass-3 @justab-eautifulmess @supraveng @mycosmicparadise @missnighttigress

#captainsimagines #Steve Rogers #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #reader x steve rogers #avengers fanfic #avengers x reader #marvel fanfiction #chapter ten #to topple a giant #to topple a giant finale #avengers mob fanfic #by Moni

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moonlit-imagines · 4 years

Text

Headcanons for being Bucky Barnes’ adoptive child

Bucky Barnes x child!reader

warnings: knife

a/n:

prompt: @multifandomlover121: “i adored your natasha romanoff’s child headcanons! could you do one with bucky barnes and him adopting a child? thank you!!”

bucky saw someone in need and wanted to help them

that someone was you

he would have wanted someone to do the same for him

“are you okay, kid?”

“i’m fine...”

“are you sure?”

“...no”

you kinda started crying and ran off

but that wasnt the last time he had seen you

the more he’d run into you, the more he’d check on you, offer you food/water/shelter

“i really don’t mind, it’s the least i could do”

“are you sure?”

“i am”

you began to trust bucky more as time went on, he really was helpinh you out of the kindness of his heart

and buck became more protective of you, of course

soon enough he saw you as his child and you saw him as your father, neither of you had had a bond like that before

“i’m going to the market, do you want anything?”

“uh, peaches?”

“got it, be back in a while, don’t answer the door for anyone”

“got it, pa”

that was the first time you called him “pa” and he shut the door behind him and stood there in SHOCK he was so ???!!!!

you asked him about his life, and at first he didn’t want to tell you much

“pleaseee? it all seems so interesting”

“well, i don’t remember it much. and everything i do remember isn’t very great”

“is that why you’re lying low?”

“yeah...that’s one of them”

“can you tell my how you got your metal arm?”

you tried not to pry but you were disappointed that he wouldn’t open up to you

he knew just about everything about the short past you had, all the highs and lows of your messy childhood before he met you

bucky lived in a one bedroom apartment, so he gave you the bedroom and slept on the couch

honestly you guys led your lives mainly inside the apartment just to stay safe

and filling the day was a bit difficult, but you managed

“can i watch tv?”

“after the news”

“you said that twenty minutes ago”

“well, it’s not over yet. just watch it with me”

“can i pleaaaase watch tv?”

that “pleaaaase” always makes him cave

you two also baked together! it calms his nerves

especially when he can smell cookies/brownies/cake/etc baking in the oven, it’s his favorite

“are you sure we’re making these right, y/n?”

“no, i am not.”

helping him clean his arm sometimes

he couldn’t get in the crevices

one day you were watching tv and it said that bucky was wanted for a bombing, which couldnt be true because that was in vienna and you were far from there

“so that’s what you didn’t want to tell me? you’re a...”

“a terrorist? an assassin? an 100 year old man? i...i wish i wasn’t, but i had no choice. i can’t remember everything that happened to me, but i don’t want to. this new life is good for me and you. and i promise i would never do anything to hurt you”

“i know, pa, i trust you more than anyone else on earth. but...what does this mean for us now? the whole world is looking for you”

“nothing, they wont find us here. i’m going to the market for plums, though. keep the door and windows locked”

“yes sir”

“love you, kid”

“love you, pa”

and the next thing you know the door has been opened and you do not know what to do so you hide because that’s the plan you and bucky came up with just in case and next thing you know there’s sounds of fighting, things breaking, yelling

it’s time to come out

“pa? pa, where are you?”

“y/n, get down!”

“bucky, who is that?” -cap

“my kid”

steve immediately: ????¿???

ur WHAT

anywhooo you ended up running with them and not able to keep up bc they were kinda enhanced 100 year old men and you were baby

so the falcon, the REAL DEAL MAN RIGHT THERE had to give you a helping hand

“you doing alright, kid?”

“to be honest, i’ve never flown before”

✨getting arrested with pa and the crew✨

you sat next to steve rogers

“so, you’re bucky’s...child?”

“he took me in a while ago, we were both in a dark place”

“has he told you about his past?”

“i ask but he cant remember most of it, and what he does remember, he’s too ashamed to say. he just recently told me he used to be an assassin...and he’s and eldery man”

“hey, whatever happens to buck—your dad, i just want to let you know that i’ll be here for you, okay? he was my best friend growing up, i owe it to him”

it’s a feat to be a minor caught by the CIA but look at you go

you had to explain how you and bucky became family, which they were not buying even though every word was true

releasing you to steve bc he had some pull

oh yeah bucky kinda sorta went feral and you insisted you’d be able to calm him down but it doesn’t exactly work that way

“pa! i’m right here, it’s me! please, stop it!”

“y/n, you need to get out of here, it’s not safe!”

“i can’t leave him like this!”

escaping the CIA and waiting for your dad to wake up, this is where he regained his full memory

once he was free of the debris, he gave you a big hug and apologized with tears in his eyes (why the fuck am i rhyming)

“i’m sorry if i scared you, dragă”

“i couldn’t ever be scared of you”

steve was so happy that bucky was happy dhshshshhshs

being pushed in the backseat with pa

sharing your granola bar

since bucky remembered some good thinsg about his past, he thought it may be time to share!

“yeah, so me and steve were best friends, right? steve always picked fights with every bully he met, despite being less than half the weight he is now. i always had to swoop in and save the day”

“i can’t believe you were born in 1917. my father is a world war two veteran”

“how impressive” -sam, also a war vet

honestly they didn’t expect THAT much resistance at the airport but everyone knew you were off limits

excellent spiderman who webbed your hand to a car

luckily, your dad had taught you a thing or two and you got to hacking through these webs with your pocket knife

it took forever

but you finally escaped with your dad and who you’d soon call ‘uncle steve’

black widow nearly stopped you, you were very afraid :)

bucky made u stay in the jet “for your own safety”

“we don’t know what to expect in there, y/n. the last thing i want for you is to get hurt. i should have never dragged you into this”

steve casually talking to bucky about you being unofficially adopted by him

“so, you’re a dad?”

“that i am”

“what’s it like?”

“it’s like...finding a reason to get up every day. and a decent amount of compromise”

“sounds exciting”

“you have no idea”

finally being retrieved from the jet to see your dad with one arm

trippin out

but he told you it was alright

t’challa, new king of wakanda who was trying to end bucky’s life just a few hours ago had apologized and offered you sanctuary in his country

he SPECIFICALLY apologized to you, saying that it was unfair to you by trying to hurt your father because the pain of losing one is unbearable in his eyes

getting some much needed peace (not really bc you wanted to train with wakandan warriors)

and it paid off since you all had to fight off a hoard of aliens

“you think you can handle this, y/n?”

“oh yeah”

you definitely could not handle your dad turning to dust :)

:))))))

“y/n? steve?”

no nope no

steve had to take care of you on bucky’s five year hiatus from life (oh my god im sorry)

not a day went by that you didn’t think of him

it kinda sucked bc you didn’t have any pictures together or anything, only pictures from the 1940’s that steve pulled out every once in a while

“doing okay, y/n?”

“not really”

“do you want to come and watch a movie with me or something? im still not completely caught up on everything i missed”

after five years, there was a breakthrough and it was finally time to get your dad back

but he probably wouldn’t recognize you...you’ll find out soon enough

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @rorybutnotgilmore // @locke-writes // @sweetheartliz07 // @queen-destenie // @natasha-danvers // @lokihiddles // @frostedgiant // @emygirl // @lotsoffandomrecs // @johnmurphyisbisexual // @teenwaywardasgardian // @pappydaddy // @captainshazamerica // @freya-xo // @ravenmoore14 // @purpleskiesstorm // @ofthedewthesunlight //

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x child!reader #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier #winter soldier imagine #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #avengers #avengers imagine #avengers x reader

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extremelyblackandwhite · 3 years

Text

innocence - 22

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: age gap

A/N: i’m so sorry this one took a bit longer, i literally panicked and rewrote it several times and had to stop myself from rewriting this section. hope you enjoy xxx

NEXT CHAPTER

The things drained out slowly, the sounds of the coffee machine buzzing warm liquid into brown stained porcelain cups, the meshed chatter of those surrounding her, the bell ringing once anyone came into the coffee shop. Things dripped like honey from a wooden spoon yet everything registered as messy, scream-ish sounds with images of beige bleak environments. Her hands were folded over each other, resting under her chin, lips slightly open and eyes looking at the fading wood of her table. Her breathe condensed as it hit the cold air, vanishing like time itself as she waited for Chuck to arrive.

The bell rang once again, this time calling for her attention. Chuck stepped inside the coffee shop wearing a long brown trench coat and oversized black sunglasses like some contemporary Humphrey Bogart. He sat in front of her, tense expression.

- Are you sure you want to do this, Y/N?

- Yes. - her voice wavered as she slide a white envelope towards him yet it remained in the middle of the table.

- You’re gonna regret it. - he took the envelope, putting it on the pocket of his trench coat. - Does Bucky know?

- No. - her fingers were tangled in her hair, pulling it ever so slightly as she looked to the side.

- Don’t you think you should know before you make this decision?

- I know what I’m doing, Chuck. - every breathe seemed to exit her lungs as she got up from the sit, pulling her bag over her shoulder. - I have to go, Bucky’s expecting me. I’ll see you on set.

- You can change your mind.

- I won’t. - she put on her dark rimmed sunglasses, turning on her heels to exit the coffee shop.

The surroundings were different; that of a coffee house and of Brooklyn streets but everything still ran painfully slow, like a deteriorating movie shoot. The weather was cloudy, foggy, not allowing for anything but the lights of the Christmas decorations wrapped around the light posts and the traffic lights to be seen in the horizon. The cold wetted her lashes and lips as she strode through the ends of Brooklyn’s autumn. She didn’t know how far she was from James’ yet all she wanted to do was walk and hear nothing but the sound of her heels clicking against the sidewalk.

Y/N knew an abstract way of getting to his flat yet all she wanted to do was let the cold hit her face and hair, swallow her whole and leave her stuck. Maybe Chuck was right but she couldn’t tell him, she shouldn’t tell him. Maybe she was a coward yet that was something she surely had heard before.

The young actress allowed the wind to move her down the street until she mindlessly ended up in front of Bucky’s apartment. Her head moved to look up to the top of the building, observing every single window decorated with Christmas lights except for Bucky’s. Her breathe once again condensed, flying high in the air as she scavenged her pockets for her keys. Once in hand, she exited the cold into the warmness of the building he lived in, her once strong convictions melted as she felt she walked on glass as she approached the door she had left early this morning. Maybe she shouldn’t have left, what if she had stayed with Bucky, cuddling, coffee and granola breakfast. As she twisted the key opening the door, her eyes focused on the mirror which laid as mere decor on his living room. Her brain played tricks on her, showing the same red lipstick word only to fade away leaving her holding the key on the door and staring at nothing but clear mirror.

- Princess? - Bucky appeared from the other side of the living room, dressed in loose clothing. - Hypnotised by your own reflection?

- Yeah. - she snapped out of her own cage of memories, closing the door with her feet all with a little smile on her face. - I’m sorry, the meeting was ... long.

- How was it? - he paced to her, arms wrapping loosely around her waist, pulling her close to him. - I hope it wasn’t too bad.

- It was fine. - she lied, leaning against his chest. - Nothing too different from the rest. Same old.

- You’re freezing. - he kissed the top of her head. - You need warmer clothing.

- Cold is psychological.

- Sure it is, princess. Why don’t you go grab something to eat while I set you a nice warm bath so you don’t get sick?

She merely nodded, not exactly knowing how to react as guilt started to weight on the bottom of her throat. Even if she tried to tell him not to, to just rest himself which he deserved much more than her, her own guilt kept her shut and staring at the inside of his fridge while he disappeared into the bathroom. He had a fully stocked fridge, probably had gone shopping while gone, as she couldn’t pin point a single thing missing. Yet, she didn’t feel like eating and instead poured herself a glass of unsweetened cranberry juice. Chuck was right, she knew he was right and she knew she should tell him yet she also knew she shouldn’t. Her eyes didn’t focus on anything, instead she was lost in her own mind as she drank the red juice from the beautifully crafted glass.

She knew it would be out tomorrow, it would be out tomorrow and he would see it and so would everyone. Her bag was standing on the counter, she could call Chuck and just go back on it yet she couldn’t. She wanted to regret it, but she could only feel guilty about blindsiding Bucky.

- Hey princess, you ready? - his voice echoed from the bathroom. She felt even guiltier as she stepped inside the bathroom wrapped in his robe to see the low dimmed light courtesy of some tea lights accompanied by a bubble filled bath. - I had these from when the light went off the compound. I don’t think they smell like anything.

- Bucky ...

- I also didn’t know if you were allergic to my shower gel so I used soap to make bubbly water.

- Bucky, you shouldn’t have.

- You’ve been through some past bad days, you deserve a treat. Get in before it gets cold.

She wanted to cry. As she felt the water warm her skin she wanted to cry, the guilt bubbling up to the surface. Laying under the bubbles, neck and head only visible she couldn’t help but feel awful that she didn’t regret it. Looking into his blue eyes she felt awful but she still didn’t, she couldn’t say she would’ve done things differently but she felt guilty, guilty it was the wrong thing to do. It was the wrong thing to do and he did not deserve it. Bucky did not deserve this and as she looked back at him she couldn’t stop silent tears from rolling down her face.

Bucky frowned, looking around and wondering if something had made her upset. The mirror. He should’ve covered the mirror.

- Princess, I’m so sorry about the mirror. I’ll have it taken away tomorrow.

- No. - she cleaned her cheeks with the back of her hand. - I did something terrible, James.

- No, you didn’t.

- I did and I don’t even regret it. - she looked at the bubbles covering the palms of her hands. - I can stop it and I ... I don’t want to.

- You can’t do bad things, princess. You’re too good.

- I’m not.

- Maybe it’s not a bad thing ... morally ambiguous? - his finger caressed her cheekbone, moving from the very end of her bone to her hair, pushing it behind her ear. - Whatever it is princess, it’ll be alright.

He leaned to kiss her, cupping her face in his hands. It was sweet, soft, full of emotion and she would rather lose herself in his kiss than her guilt. Her hand bunched the fabric of his white jumper pulling him closer enough that had it not been for his perfect balance, he would’ve fallen inside the bath tube. They broke the kiss once the oxygen ran out and she could only think of how sinful he looked with his cherry red wet lips open.

- Get inside the tub, please. - she pleased with those eyes which Bucky couldn’t deny. He quickly got rid of his clothes, submerging himself in the bath with her.

Bucky pulled her on top of him, resting his chin on top of her shoulder, feeling her soft skin against his scruff. She turned her head kissing his cheek before learning against his chest.

- You’re gonna hate me tomorrow. - she mumbled, eyes fixated on the tiles of the bathroom.

- We’ll see what happens tomorrow but I can assure you I’ll never hate you,

She didn’t believe him and instead let herself sink against his skin, hoping she could remember what he felt like, remember his breathe hitting the top of her head or his hand intertwined with hers. The water got cold and both of them exited the bathroom to go to sleep yet she couldn’t. The only time she could close her eyes was when the daylight painted both of them golden once her lids were to heavy for her to remain awake. However, both of them wouldn’t be asleep for longer as when silent settled on the room it was rudely interrupted by Bucky’s phone ringing. Bucky groaned grabbing it from his side table before exiting the room. Sam.

- What’s wrong?

- You need to turn your TV on. - he said in a stern voice. - Channel one.

Bucky rolled his eyes, probably another video of him looking great during a press or some kitten stuck on a tree. Turning off the television and switching to channel one, it quickly dawned on him that it was none of those things as blasted on his television was a slightly blurry yet very recognised photo of him and Y/N. He dropped his phone on the couch, eyes glued onto the screen.

- So ... do you hate me now?

taglist: @disasterbii @lookiamtrying @buckysteveloki-me @americasass81 @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @lostinthebeans @mariahthelioness29 @buckyandsebastian @peaches-roses-sins @theadorasabditory @sipsteacasually @saiyanprincessswanie @booktease21 @noiralei @learisa @everythingisoverratedbutgreat @uglipotata72829 @naturalthrone22 @husherstan @mandiiblanche @vicmc624 @newyorkgoddess @itsallyscorner @chipilerendi @emzd34 @writerwrites @bluevxnus @that-girl-named-alex @captnrogers @nsfwsebbie @sarge-barnes-sir

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dizzysdomain · 2 years

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Here Are Some Great Tips For Losing Weight

If you’ve ever just needed a bit of advice in order to make something happen, we have that for you here. Weight loss can be just a matter of making the right choices, but how do you know what those choices are? The rest of this article will attempt to shed some light on things you can do to lose the weight you want to lose. To be more effective at losing weight, try adding more spicy foods to your diet. This will result in an increased metabolism, which in turn burns fat at a faster rate. It isn’t necessary to make foods as spicy as you can bear – just a touch of spice can make a positive difference. Be sure to not start off too strong, as you may quickly burn out. Help yourself lose weight at work by making changes to work habits that don’t help your goal. Instead of gossiping in the breakroom, walk around the block or up and down the stairwell. Stay away from the vending machine by bringing healthier snacks to work. Nosh on almonds, walnuts, low fat granola bars, or celery sticks with peanut butter to help keep hunger cravings away. Try new foods when accomplishing weight loss goals. Borrow healthy eating cookbooks from the library or purchase some for your own use. Explore new ways to make healthy foods on the Internet. Share your new-found recipes with friends on social networks. This will help you find new and interesting ways to try new foods that are healthy for you. When trying to lose weight, you have to exercise daily. It is very important to get into a habit of exercising. Making exercise a habit will help you remember that it needs done and it will seem like it is not work. Exercising can be very beneficial for you, but you must stick with it. Do not forget to consult your doctor before going on any weight loss plan. Your doctor needs to confirm that there are no underlying causes for your weight gain. He can review your weight loss plan and verify that it is appropriate for you. The most important thing is that you must be healthy. The best way to accelerate weight loss is to include some sort of weight training regiment. One pound of muscle burns ten times the calories as one pound of fat, and that is just sitting idly. So next time you go to the gym don’t just hit the treadmill, but hit some weights to, your waist line will thank you. A helpful way to lose weight is to start reading the labels on the food that you eat. Doing so will make you aware of the good and bad chemicals that are in your food. Reading the labels also familiarizes you with the amount of calories you will be consuming. This knowledge can be a deterent to eating unhealthy, which can lead to weight loss. If you are trying to lose weight, a great tip is to use natural applesauce to spice up your foods. Natural applesauce makes a tasty dip to use on certain fruits like bananas and melons. Not only is it very tasty, but applesauce also has many antioxidants that aid in weight loss. Weight loss is often about making mindful eating choices. One of the best ways to be mindful about eating is to be mindful about where you eat. Eat at a table, with silverware and a napkin. This sounds so basic, and yet so many people eat mindlessly, standing at a counter or in front of the fridge or the TV. But if you restrict where you eat to the table, you are compelled to be more mindful about where and when you eat, which will automatically limit the amount of mindless eating you do. Some restaurants make it easy to determine which choices will be smartest for those on a diet. Others, not so much. If the menu doesn’t make it clear, ask your server to indicate the healthiest choices available on the menu. If nothing looks appropriate, and that does happen, ask your server if they can make you up a fresh fruit plate or whether they have any vegetarian options. Restaurant cooks appreciate the chance to cook something off-menu, and you’ll get a healthier meal. Eating out can be scary for many people on a diet. Use your server to help you and ask them to tell you what are the healthiest meals on the menu. Many menus will also have a low calorie section. You can make your choice from that, and still have an enjoyable meal. Stop making excuses to avoid working out. If you really are busy, set up a schedule where you can exercise sometime during the smoothie diet week and stick to it. Even 10 minutes is better than nothing at all. You should see that this won’t interfere with your schedule and that you can keep your productivity levels exactly the same. If you experience an uncontrollable craving for something juicy and sweet, always opt for fresh fruit. Many people mistakenly believe that most bottled fruit drinks and vitamin-enriched beverages offer the same nutritional value as an apple, strawberry or banana. The opposite is true. These drinks have far less nutrients and far more calories than most fruits. If you find that your are a person that is always on the go, keep some portable nonperishable food in your purse or a bag for an easy on the go meal. Try some peanut butter and crackers, granola bars trail mix or some fresh fruit. Anything that is healthy and can be eaten on the move. When ordering food at restaurants or fast food places, buy smaller portions. If you usually buy a foot long sandwich, buy a 6 inch instead. When at a movie theater buy a small popcorn. If you are going through a a drive-through, order a small hamburger and small fries instead of “super sizing it.” You will eat less calories per meal. In the end, it all comes down to your choices. No one can force you to eat right or exercise, but sometimes we need a little help understanding what good choices are. Hopefully we have been able to shed some light on that for you in this article.

#the #smoothie #diet #plan

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plush-rabbit · 4 years

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It’s Just A Crush

Word Count: 2.7K

A/N: It feels like it’s been a while since I’ve written anything

When you’re a villain, you don’t have many dating options. Sure, you hide your identity to the public but it gets harder and harder to explain why you’re sporting a rather nasty bruise on your face, why you’re limping, or why you can’t go out tonight but you can’t come out and tell the truth. As much as you enjoy (Is ‘enjoy’ even the right word?) being a villain, you don’t want to lose your day life. There’s an odd thing about wanting to have your cake and eat it. You grew up with a fairly normal upbringing, nothing out of the ordinary, no tragic past, but the night life always called you, enticing you to drop the good act for a second and join in on the fun and sure it’s dangerous and leaves you burning the candles at both ends but god, is it exhilarating.

But then you join the League of Villains, enticed by Stain’s message and when you’re almost cut, burnt, and/or decayed to death, you can’t help but feel giddy. To feel as if you’re finally alive, that the whole life that society has for you, isn’t cutting it out but you get to do something and feel as if you’re changing the world. And you grow attached- bumping shoulders, bringing back snacks that they can no longer buy on their own accord- and you want to stay with them, to see their- his message be brought into reality. Late night talks where he snaps and rants, hands that tear into his skin and decay glasses into dust helps you see him not as a leader but as a person who’s too caught up in their world to enjoy the other wonders it can bring. But you never open your mouth, you keep it shut, nodding along and scooping the dust into your hand and tossing it in the bin. It’s late nights where his voice lowers and his head is lowered with shoulders slump as if he holds the weight in the world in his own arms- and perhaps he does- that makes you realize he’s human. Eventually, your admiration turns into something different, something softer and harder to swallow.

You feel like you’re drowning every day, at every hour with each passing second when you’re around him. You don’t know when it happened, how it happened, or even why. You wished you had an answer for it, that way you’d at least know something. But those questions remain unanswered and they probably will remain like that forever. But, sometimes, when he smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling, you think you know the reason. You think you know why when the light catches in his hair and turn the pale blue into a white color, engulfing him in light and making his features more apparent, sharper and handsome. You suppose it’s when he asks for your opinion, when red eyes stare into your own, waiting patiently for you to contribute. You don’t know and never will, but you welcome these feelings, wanting to bask in the warmth that he gives you. You want and crave for his praise, always some lovesick grin on your face when he tells you good job and you want to dance and jump when he smiles because he’s just so gosh darn cute.

You feel like a teenager all over again. Smiling too wide at him, your ears burning red and tongue tied around him. You wish that it isn’t obvious how much you admire him, that ever gaze at him isn’t meet, every chance taken to just sit next to him is never question but you have to be honest with yourself and realize that perhaps you aren’t as sly as you thought you were. But then Dabi snorts, foot kicking you underneath the table and it just makes you burn up and lower your head, shooting a glare at Dabi for a quick second. It must be obvious to everyone then. It has to be obvious to him. It’s strange to know that he has some clue and he isn’t acting on it, isn’t at least baring his teeth at you and to focus. It’s frustrating that he isn’t at least making it apparent that he isn’t interested, letting you drown in your thoughts and feelings every time he calls you over.

Shigaraki Tomura is a strange man. He’s intimidating, wild, and murderous. He’s everything that you were told to avoid when you were younger. To go after someone who was kind and could give you the life you deserved. But with more and more nights spent with him, you know he can be kind and that he can not only give you the life you deserve but also the world.

Maybe you’ve spent too much time with him. Changing your own personality to fit with his, trying to be something that you can give to him. You want to hold his hand, to feel his fingertips rest against yours and hold onto you. But he won’t be able to do that without risking your own life.

“Hey Shigaraki?” You bite into granola bar, the sweet flavor of chocolate filling your mouth. You both are alone in the dimly lit room, papers scattered around the table where you two sit.

The scratching of the pen stops. “What is it?”

“Aren’t you tired? You can always finish this up in the morning.” The granola is scratchy as it goes down your throat. “Clearer mind and all, you know?”

You can feel his eyes on you. “Better to finish them up now,” he mumbles, the pen returning to bleed onto the paper.

You furrow your eyebrows. “Shigaraki, you need rest. We- You’ve had a long day today.” You move to sit beside him and fail to notice how his shoulders raise by a fraction of an inch. “Some rest will do you good. Tomorrow we can be done with this but for now—” you place your hand on his wrist— “you need sleep,” his pen slips from his fingers and his eyes dart to you, “Come on, don’t you trust me?”

He’s silent for a moment, eyes studying your face for a trace of whatever game you’re playing at. He looks down to his wrist, a fleeting thought that the pen will dry out. Your hand is warm compared to his. Fingers that are soft and are laid upon his bare wrist. He’s forgotten for a second on how to breathe. When he looks up at you again, he notices how your ears are a bright shade of red and how your eyes are wide, your body leaning closer to his and his eyes dart to your lips.

“Fine,” he huffs out and snatches his wrist away from you. He gathers the papers together carefully, pulling them into a neat stack. “Let’s get some sleep.”

“Want me to help you with the papers?” You ask, coming to stand next to him. “Or like get you anything? I’m sure there’s a water bottle around somewhere if you’d—”

“It’s fine.” His fingers pinch the paper between his index and thumb. “I’m just—”

“Of course you are,” you speak softly. “It has been a long day. Come on Shigaraki.” You don’t comment on the way he straightens himself when you bring your hand to his back, urging him to move in the direction of his bedroom.

It isn’t a long walk to his room by any means but with your palm pressed his back, it seems as if you’d never reach the destination. The only noises that fill the silence between you two are the pitter patter of the rain that hits the ceiling.

“Why are you so persistent to be close to me?” The paper creases under his touch. “You always want my attention, why is that?” He stops in his tracks and so do you. “You’re not going to get special treatment for it.”

“I,” you pause, your mouth forming into a thin line. You can feel your body begin to burn. “I don’t want special treatment,” you remove your hand from his back and continue walking forward, “I just- I don’t know Shigaraki,” you can hear his footsteps trail behind you, “I guess I just like you?” You wrap your arms around yourself and your stomach twists. “I thought it was like admiration but I don’t know? It turned into something more.” Your face burns as you walk forward, refusing to turn around. “Look, it’s just a crush. Okay?” You turn around and face him. His eyes are narrowed and when you sneak a glance to his hand, one is curled into a fist and the other is twitching, resisting the urge to mimic the other. “Shigaraki please say something, you’re like scaring me a little here,” you smile nervously and your foot inches backwards. You hope and pray that he returns—

“What do you want me to say? Want me to tell you that I like you back? Want me to confess to your stupid little crush? His voice takes on a sickly sweet tone that makes you sick with dread. He has a sinister smile that spreads itself too wide against his face, his features twist and then it all drops- his face curling into disgust and annoyance. “Well I don’t,” he spits out. He steps closer to you and like a deer caught in headlights, you stand still. “I don’t have time for your feelings or anything to do with you.” The papers in his hand are dropped and flutter to the floor. “Oi! Pay attention!” He growls, his hot breath fanning across your face. “You wanted my attention well guess what,” he seethes out, venom dripping from his lips, “you got it.”

You nod meekly, averting your eyes from his and staring at his nose. “Of course.” You should have known better. He wouldn’t return your feelings. Why did you ever tell him? Why couldn’t you just lie and tell him you were a friend or something- anything!

“What did you want? Did you want to share a kiss? Is that it?”

“Shigaraki, no, I—”

“Then what is it?” He seethes.

He steps closer to you, invading your space. He hunches over, pressing his face closer to yours, teeth bared and heavy breathing with deadly eyes that capture your focus. Even like this, you’re still attracted to him. You’re scared to death but you still want to be near him.

“I-I just, I don’t know. I just wanted to tell you,” your voice wavers and eyes shine. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Your chest is heaving. You try to relax your breathing, your hands bunching your shirt in bundles. He isn’t budging, isn’t showing the least bit of guilt for making you uncomfortable. The blood is pumping in your ears, heating up your skin and causing your hands to get clammy.

He blinks and looks at your lips and then blinks again. “You want affection? Fine.”

Before you can register his words, his lips are on yours. It isn’t a sweet that you dreamt of, it’s not a soft brushing of his lips that shows how hesitant he is to touch you, it isn’t loving. It’s rough and his teeth hit yours. His lips are chapped and you fear that he’s going to cut yours. Your mind is racing, swirling with thoughts and you can’t seem to remember anything else at the moment except for savoring how his lips feel. How dry and sharp they are, peeling skin brushing sharply against yours. How much it hurts, how much emotion or passion or whatever you can call it, that he’s pressing into you- that he’s willing to show you. Your cheek burns where the tear slips. All as sudden as it was, it ended just like that.

“Open your eyes.” You don’t remember closing your eyes. “Did that make you feel better?” You give a curt nod. “Good. Now leave me alone.”

You’re left alone in a dimly lit hallway with scattered papers on the floor.

You walk into your apartment. It’s dark and you’re wet with rain and tears. You’re silent as you lock the door, silent as the shower muffles any noise that comes from the outside world. And when you’re in the comfort of your pajamas, you take in a shaky breath and start to cry.

You’re crying and can’t breathe, and everything hurts. Your heart hurts. As cliché as it is, you can feel it break, you can feel it being crushed and it’s so stupid. It’s so dumb and annoying and god, you don’t even know why it hurts so much but it does. You’re clutching your chest and the tears won’t stop and you just wish you never met him. You wish you were spared of this heartbreak. You played with the idea in your head that he could be nice when he wanted to be, that he could be nice to you but in the end of it all, he was and will always be the same Shigaraki Tomura.

You don’t go back the next day. You don’t go back for a long time. You woke up and you were humiliated, angry, confused- you were done and left empty. You moved on with your life. You threw away and left the whole “dark side” in your past. Who were you kidding when you tried to play the big bad guy? You don’t have a hit on your head, there’s no number to entice people to turn you in. You always made sure your identity was hidden. You wanted to have you cake and eat it but it ended up being foul.

You move on, you cut your hair; you eat ice cream until you feel bloated and you cry. And your heart still hurts. You still watch the news waiting- hoping- to hear something about the League. You wait and shake when the news reports them. You don’t know what you want for the League. But you know what you want for yourself and that’s enough for you.

You meet new people. You meet someone who doesn’t force a painful kiss on you. You meet someone who touches you with the same softness that you once gave to Shigaraki. Your feelings are returned and you’re happy.

When you cook dinner with them one night, their large hands gripping your waist and swinging you side to side, tilting your head up to press a kiss to your temple, you fail to notice the set of eyes watching you from outside. They can tell your smiling, laughing maybe, but you’re definitely smiling as they pepper kisses your face, hands pressed against their chest in a mock attempt to push them off. Peering into the warm glow of the kitchen and failing to hear the pop song that plays on your phone. They disappear into the night, not even a glanced spared to the window.

No one dares to speak to him. No one dares to even acknowledge you anymore. You came into their life, you left and you didn’t rat on them. That’s fine. No one jumps when the door to his room is slammed shut.

He can’t breathe. Red eyes are wide and blown out, his head hurts and he can’t form a coherent thought. He doesn’t know who that other person is but he loathes him. He wants to dig his nails into their skin and watch them bleed. He hates them. God, everything around him right now is sickening, the air is putrid and he forgets for a second his own quirk when the lamp he’s thrown at the wall decays before it can even get halfway through the room. They don’t deserve to kiss you, he does— Oh. Oh for all the godforsaken things to happen to him, this was one of the most laughable and distasteful thing to happen.

His hand is inches away from the doorknob, shaking and clammy and he can’t bring himself to open the door. He can’t force himself to barge into your new life and take back what’s his. You’ve been gone for so long, why is it just hitting him now? He wanted to torment you, to push you until you showed your true colors, your true feelings but he went too far. He scared you off and you fled. They waited with bated breaths until heroes stormed them but they never did. You never came back. Now you’re in the arms of another and he feels sick.

#shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki headcanons #shigaraki x reader #bnha shigaraki tomura #shigaraki fanfiction #shigaraki imagine #shigaraki tomura imagine #tell me how i did??#im a bit hesistant about this one #i like didnt know if you wanted a happy ending or not #so #yeah #sorry!!

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blossom-hwa · 3 years

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Light the Pyres |Rise| - SUNGYOON

Sungyoon + mc finally start getting their shit together I'm gonna scream

Pairing: Sungyoon x gender neutral!reader

Genre: angst, bits of fluff, apocalypse!au

Triggers: cursing, implied death, semi-graphic depictions of blood

Word Count: 4.6k

As the world burns its last goodbyes, you find a jewel amidst the ashes.

Previous: Light >> Rise >> Next: Burn

Golden Child Masterlist

Walking with Sungyoon is slow.

It isn’t like you expected anything more, considering the injured leg and all. Still, as you start off down the highway, you can’t help but feel like he was walking faster yesterday when you two came back to find his family.

Maybe it was adrenaline. Worry. Fear for loved ones can give you a lot of strength.

Or maybe it’s just your imagination.

You try not to show it. You’re the one who offered to let Sungyoon come, after all. He even raised the issue of his leg before agreeing. But impatience rears its ugly little head every time Sungyoon falls behind, forcing you to slow your steps down never-ending streets and highways until he ultimately needs a break and you sit in what miniscule shade you can find.

If it wasn’t so silent, you might be able to stomach the walk better. Maybe if you and Sungyoon were on good enough terms to have a conversation, walking wouldn’t feel so endless and slow. But after you gave each other your names that night in the house, there hasn’t been much conversation other than “break?” and “let’s go.”

Daeyeol was quiet, but in a comfortable way, in a way you’d known for two decades. Sungyoon has a reserved quietude about him. Definitely not comfortable.

Though given the circumstances under which you met, that isn’t surprising.

Which is why you don’t expect Sungyoon to bring up the issue and not you. You always figured at some point you’d explode from keeping quiet too much and say things you couldn’t take back, but one week after you leave, Sungyoon opens his mouth and starts talking instead of eating the granola bar you put in his hand.

“Are you tired of walking with me?”

You blink once. Twice. You still have the presence of mind to be thankful you just took a mouthful of granola bar and have to chew and swallow before you say a thing.

“No,” you reply, lying through bits of granola stuck in your teeth.

Sungyoon raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Really.”

Indignation rises in your chest. “Well, what do you want me to say?” you snap. “Why are you even asking? What does it matter?”

He looks down. Shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says, voice smaller and suddenly very tired. “I would’ve gotten tired in your position. I’m sorry.”

That just ups the guilt you feel for having those stupid thoughts. “Why are you sorry?” you say harshly, trying to disguise the emotion threatening to spill out of your mouth. “Last time I checked, doing whatever you did to your leg wasn’t your fault.”

“I didn’t land properly.”

“I was the one who told you to jump.” You grimace at the memory. “So unless you had practice in jumping off fucking buses before this all happened, I don’t see how that’s supposed to change the fact that you couldn’t control your jump from a bus taller than you.”

“I’m still slowing you down,” Sungyoon argues.

“What is this, a competition of who’s done worse?” You scoff. “In that case, if you didn’t remember, I forced you to choose between leaving your family or me killing them.”

Your words are acerbic. Grating. They burn guilty on your lips and tongue and you’re surprised Sungyoon doesn’t do anything more than swallow and look away, teeth worrying his lips. “They were already dead.”

Bitterness. Resentment. Not a lot, but just enough to tinge his words with a sickly venom that eats into your skin, filling your throat with bile. He doesn’t believe that, not yet, which you can’t even blame because you’re still trying to convince yourself it isn’t his fault that Daeyeol is dead.

Oh, God. Daeyeol.

Two bites of granola bar churn in your stomach. “I killed them anyway,” you manage, trying not to hurl.

“But I got Daeyeol killed.” Sungyoon turns, his eyes burning into yours.

Your fingers crush the remains of the granola bar still in your hand. Bits fall onto the ground, but you’re too busy focusing on a point in the distance to care, avoiding Sungyoon’s gaze for fear that you’ll launch yourself at him, claw his eyes out, throw him against the tree he’s sitting under –

Oh.

You stop throttling the granola bar.

This must be how he feels about you, too.

“Don’t tell me you don’t believe it.” Sungyoon’s voice, oblivious to your whirlwind of thoughts, is soft, bitter, but understanding. “Remember? The only reason I’m still here is because I’m living on his time.”

Bile stings in your throat, but you force yourself to lock eyes with him once more. “Yeah,” you croak. “Yeah. I do kind of believe it. But you also believe I killed your sister and her boyfriend, even if you keep saying they were already dead before I did it.”

His jaw tightens. Gaze shifts. But Sungyoon doesn’t argue.

You sigh. “I know the facts and I know it isn’t your fault, Sungyoon.” His name sounds weird on your tongue, but you push away the strange feeling and continue. “My brain just doesn’t want to believe it. Yet.” You swallow, hard. These next words better convey sincerity. “I don’t mean to act like your life only matters because Daeyeol sacrificed himself for us. It doesn’t. I do want you to stay alive if only for you to keep living. It’s just…” Another sigh. “I’m sorry.”

The truth doesn’t fall too flat, at least.

“Mine doesn’t either.” Sungyoon doesn’t raise his head, but one hand goes up to rub his downcast eyes. You fight the urge to tell him not to, that the dirt from his skin might cause an infection. “I would’ve had to kill them, one way or another. You just did it for me. Inevitable.” He looks up. “I shouldn’t blame you. I’m trying not to. Maybe I shouldn’t even have brought it up, I just didn’t want this to keep… festering.” He winces. “I’m sorry.”

“No more apologies.” You wrap up the remains of your granola bar, too drained to contemplate another bite even though you probably need it. “No more guilt. I think we’ve both done enough shit to each other to cancel most of it out.” And it feels weird. “Also, just because I’m impatient about you walking slowly doesn’t mean I’m going to leave you behind. I asked you to come. I’m not an absolute shithead. When you walk it off, you’ll be fine. Maybe we can find some bikes or something in the next city. I don’t know.”

Sungyoon blinks, then nods. Silence falls, a little less tension-filled than before. Then –

“I used to run track.”

You blink, trying to register his five word statement. It feels so out of place, but then you remember you were talking about going faster. “Were you any good?”

A brief glint of pride flashes in Sungyoon’s eyes. “One of the best.”

“Well, track boy, I guess we’ll have to wait until a horde finds us to verify that statement.” Your lips almost curve, and you feel a small bit of satisfaction as Sungyoon’s mouth twitches similarly. Morbid humor. Maybe that’s something you, him and Daeyeol have in common. “Go to sleep. I’ll take first watch.”

He sleeps, then, more quietly than you’ve ever seen him. And as his breaths begin to even, there’s a hint of the peace you used to feel when it was just you and Daeyeol instead.

It lets you pretend that things aren’t really as bad as they seem.

. . . . .

And things aren’t too bad, at least not for a while. Limping along, you and Sungyoon make it through a second week and then a third without ripping out each other’s throats. There are still infuriating flashes of fury and anger when Sungyoon does or says something that reminds you a little too much of Daeyeol, and sometimes you catch him glancing over with lips pressed together, eyes torn in grief. But it lessens. A little. Two weeks after that initial conversation, you find Sungyoon almost pleasant company. On some days, you even consider taking out the almost.

Until the horde attacks.

You and Sungyoon manage to run fast, to lose most of the zombies in a maze of abandoned buildings in a dusty city. The last few you shoot dead. When that’s over, you both breathe a sigh of relief.

Then Sungyoon faints, of all things, and when you finally drag him into one of the empty houses nearby and get him to come to, he can’t put weight on his leg without collapsing on the floor. The skin is tight, the limb swollen. Running that fast on whatever injury he had made it much worse.

Fuck.

Your hands aren’t those of a doctor, not even those of a biology major. All you can do is manipulate machines, not blood flow or heartbeats. Yours is dangerously high as you step close enough to touch his leg with trembling fingers, feeling the swelling flesh beneath your skin.

“I don’t think it’s broken,” Sungyoon says when you remain silent, dropping your hands from his prone body. His voice is weak with pain but strong in anger, though whether it’s anger at you or something else you aren’t sure. “Maybe a bigger fracture.”

“How do you know?”

“Got a few injuries running track.”

You swallow. “How… how long?”

“Probably a few weeks.” He looks down.

Weeks. Several weeks. It took around two months for you and Daeyeol to make it two thirds across the country, and part of the way you were driving. On Sungyoon’s leg, you’ve only gone a third of the remaining third, if you’re being generous. Probably more like a quarter.

Three quarters of a third left. You may not have been in a math class in months, but you can still calculate that you have a quarter of the whole way to go.

A quarter. A whole damn quarter. Two or three weeks would cut that down at least by a third. A half if you moved fast enough. But now you’re stuck here for that amount of time, waiting for Sungyoon’s leg to heal.

He doesn’t say anything when you walk out of the room, doesn’t call you back when you disappear into the hall and close the door and put your head against the wall and scream, silent, as pressure builds behind your eyes to signal tears you won’t let fall.

Sungyoon definitely hears when you kick the wall. He also definitely hears your muffled grunt of pain, judging by the look he gives your foot when you walk back into the room, trying to keep the emotions off your face.

“I’m fine,” you mutter, putting your bag down with as little force as you can in the corner. “Need anything?”

He shakes his head. Swallows around what looks like a dry throat. You raise a disbelieving eyebrow and take a half empty bottle of water out of the bag, tossing it over. He catches it easily. “Don’t lie to me,” you say, successfully keeping a bite out of your tone. “If you’re thirsty, you’re thirsty. No sense in hiding it.”

Behind the bottle, Sungyoon nods. The plastic crinkles slightly in the silence as you turn back to the bag, staring at the dwindling mess left inside. Some more granola bars, two full bottles of water, a few empty bottles, clothes and a couple sheets. Sungyoon’s pack probably doesn’t have much more.

You sigh. One of you is going to have to go out and hunt for supplies and with Sungyoon’s fractured leg, it’s clear which one has to go.

There are zombies lurking everywhere. The bullets in your gun are the only ones you have left. You need ammunition, food, and water, and you have no idea where to find it.

Great.

The sun is still in the sky when you look out the window. There are three, maybe four hours left before sundown, which gives you a little time to at least scope out the neighborhood you’ve ended up in. “I’m going out,” you say, standing up. “If I’m not back in three hours, assume I’m fucked. Stay here.”

“And if you are fucked?”

The way Sungyoon says it simultaneously makes want to smile but also want to punch him in the face. Humor. It always seems to come back when you’re at your lowest points. “Then you’re fucked,” you say as flippantly as possible. “At least you have one water bottle and a granola bar to see you through a day or two.”

If you didn’t know better, you’d say you hear Sungyoon snort as you leave the room. Though it was probably just the creaking door.

. . . . .

According to your watch, you come back two hours later with several bottles of water, a scraped leg, and two less bullets in your gun. “No food or ammunition, though there’s a cafeteria where I found some water,” you announce, wincing as you sit on the floor. “And zombies are still everywhere.”

“How do you think they find us?” Sungyoon asks, disconcertedly looking at the blood you’ve started dabbing off your leg. “And how did you get that?”

You pause, a strip of sheet pressed to your skin. “I… don’t know,” you admit. “I feel like they probably can’t see very well given their weird eyes and the fact that they still bump into buildings when trying to get at us. Hearing or smell?” You shrug, pouring a tiny bit of water onto the sheet. “And I got this running away from a group. Lucky they don’t move too fast or I wouldn’t have gotten back.”

“How many bullets left?”

“Ten.”

Sungyoon sucks in a breath.

“Yeah.” You glare at your gun, as though staring will somehow bring the two bullets back. “Might need to find some other sort of weapon.”

And transport. Like a bike or a car that miraculously still has enough fuel for you to hotwire. Though that’s secondary, considering you’re stuck here until further notice.

Silence falls as you finish cleaning your wound, wrapping it behind a strip of sheet with a sigh. “Hungry?”

He doesn’t answer. You frown. “Sungyoon?”

“You could go on. Alone.”

Your lips thin. Plastic crinkles in your grip. Just in time, you drop the water bottle in your hand before it explodes over the ground. “Hungry?” you ask again, voice choking.

Sungyoon doesn’t answer.

“Okay.” It takes all of your effort not to scream or shout or shake as you place a granola bar on the floor within his reach, along with a new bottle of water to replace the empty one sitting by his feet. “I’m going to take a nap. Say something if you need anything.”

He doesn’t say anything as you curl up on the floor, resting your head on your backpack. He doesn’t say anything as you turn around to face the wall.

He doesn’t say anything as you drift into an uneasy sleep.

. . . . .

Sungyoon doesn’t have a gun. Sungyoon doesn’t have a gun or bullets and the only other weapon you have is the blunt knife hidden in your backpack and you are thankful for this, because the next few days are unnerving.

He’s silent. Barely moves, never talks. He only ever eats when you threaten to shove food down his throat and doesn’t even half-smile the way he used to when you crack a sarcastic or morbid joke.

His words don’t leave you, either. You could go on. Alone.

It isn’t as though the thought hasn’t come to mind, you’ll admit, but every time it does, you brush it away. While you might have actually considered it when you first met, Sungyoon has grown on you (even in his silence) that you don’t feel comfortable with the idea of leaving him behind, even if he’s the one who brings it up.

You saw the loneliness and fear in his eyes that day you buried the bodies. You heard the emptiness in his voice when he said he didn’t have anywhere to go. You offered to let him come. You held out that offer even when he reminded you about his leg. Even a few weeks ago, when you were still restraining yourself from ripping out his throat every time he did something that reminded you too much of Daeyeol, you wouldn’t have rescinded your offer and left him alone unless he’d done something absolutely unforgivable. Which he never did.

So you won’t consider it. Even if it means taking longer to get to your mom. Beyond the fact that it just isn’t right, what would she say if she knew you abandoned someone you offered to take along?

But Sungyoon only ever speaks to bring it up, and every time, you pretend he never said anything. If you actually respond, you’re pretty sure it’ll deteriorate into either a yelling match or one of you just leaving the room. And considering Sungyoon can’t move, the one who leaves will be you.

The mental energy required for this conversation is too much for you to deal with right now.

But then you come back from a trip outside, limping on a re-bloodied leg and clutching a sheet to your bleeding arm an hour later than you told Sungyoon you’d be back. It’s dark when you enter the room, but the faint moonlight is just bright enough for you to see that the bed is empty and that the lump of Sungyoon is now on the floor.

The sheet drops from your hand.

“Sungyoon!”

A cracked cough sounds from the ground and you rush forward, ignoring the pain in your own limbs to lift him back up onto the bed. “What happened?” you ask, squinting into the darkness at where you think his leg is. “Did you make your leg worse?”

“You were late,” Sungyoon wheezes.

Frustration rises in your chest when he doesn’t answer the question, but you only nod tersely. “I had to hide for a while,” you say, trying to check his leg in the dark. “I’m sorry. But what were you doing?”

He still doesn’t answer. “Are you bleeding?”

“Sungyoon!” you snap, straightening. Your drop your bleeding arm and put weight on your injured leg, ignoring the resulting pain. “Answer me!”

“Why don’t you just leave?” Sungyoon half yells, burying his face in his hands. “Why are you injuring yourself because of me? I’m a nobody, I got your literal best friend killed, and now I’m preventing you from finding your mom –”

“SHUT UP!”

Sungyoon snaps his mouth shut. Swallowing hard, you do too, waiting for deadened groans to surround the house. Stupid, stupid, why did you yell? Keep your goddamn temper, will you?

One minute. Two. Five.

You finally let yourself breathe. “Are you done?” you snarl in a hushed whisper. “Are you fucking done?”

“Not until you either leave me here or give me a reasonable explanation as to why you still keep me around!”

“Do you think I’m heartless?” Your bag lands on the ground with a thud and you sit heavily beside it, giving in to the stinging of scrapes on your skin. “Do you seriously still think –”

“No, I think you’re stupid,” Sungyoon snaps.

“Stupid for what? Keeping you around when I’m the one who asked if you wanted to come along?” you retort. “It’s called basic human decency, Sungyoon!”

“And leaving me behind would be called the basic right decision for you!”

You scoff. “The right decision? Trading a human life for a week or two of time is the right decision?”

“You want to go and find your mom!” Sungyoon yells. “I’m only keeping you behind! We don’t even know each other – what even makes sense here?”

Everything in you wants to scream again that it’s not right, it’s not fucking right until you get it through Sungyoon’s thick skull, but just enough sense remains in your brain to force you to shut up and think.

Think. Why is he so set on this? And why are you so set on the opposite?

Guilt. He feels guilty that he’s keeping you behind. Which – understandable, if you calm down enough to think about it.

But how would you feel if you left him behind?

Unpleasant emotion rises in your chest. Guilt, horror, even pain at the thought of leaving Sungyoon. It’s alien – you’ve only felt this way about Daeyeol before he died, and certainly not around the few other travelers you met for brief moments on the way home, but somewhere along the way, Sungyoon has become a semblance of a companion.

A lump fills your throat. You think you know how Daeyeol felt, now, every time he heard or saw someone in need.

“You feel guilty,” you say slowly, leaning back against the wall. “Which I get. I think.”

“How –”

“Let me talk,” you interrupt, glaring. He probably can’t see it very clearly in the dark, but at least he shuts up. “You feel guilty for keeping me behind. Which I get, because a month ago I would barely have had second thoughts about moving on without you.”

He doesn’t even flinch. “As you should.”

“Will you quit it?” you snap. “If you feel guilty, think about how I would feel if I left you behind! You think I wouldn’t feel guilty? Instead of wallowing in your fucking guilt, try and think of me!”

And miraculously, Sungyoon falls silent.

“If you were in my position,” you continue, more softly, “what do you think you’d feel? If I asked you to leave me behind? Maybe I wouldn’t grudge you for it, but would you grudge yourself?”

Sungyoon remains quiet.

“It’s humanity,” you say, staring up at the ceiling. Daeyeol, I understand now. “It’s part of being human. I couldn’t leave you behind, not at this point when you can still be helped.” You swallow, tears pricking at your eyes. “I’m not selfish enough to do otherwise.”

And as the silence continues, stretching as light fades in the window, you relax against the wall even with blood still trickling down your skin and onto the forgotten sheet. The last of your frustration sloughs away, the bitterness of blame and guilt gone from your throat.

Because you understand. You understand why Daeyeol tried to save everyone he could. You understand why he would risk his life to save a boy whose name he didn’t even know. You understand the guilt he would’ve felt if he didn’t try, didn’t lift a single finger to help, even if it meant possibly losing his life in the process.

You aren’t at that level. You may never be. You probably never will reach Daeyeol’s heights of selflessness, the quality you always admired him for. But you can understand this much.

It isn’t Sungyoon’s fault. It never was. As much as your brain wanted to believe it, it was no one’s fault – not Daeyeol’s for being selfless, not yours for failing to notice the zombie, not Sungyoon’s for being in trouble and needing help.

Not his fault. Not his fault. Not his fault. With every repetition, the three words grow clearer in your mind, a clear truth rather than a blurry mess you have to force yourself to decipher through gritted teeth every time they play in your head. It isn’t his fault.

It never was.

You blink a few tears away from your eyes, lowering your head to stare at Sungyoon’s dark body on the bed. “Let me see your leg,” you say softly, tongue free of the taste of blame. “You probably hurt it, falling off the bed.”

Sungyoon doesn’t protest, just lets you make your way over to the bed. Pale moonlight guides your hands as they skim over the swollen flesh. “It doesn’t hurt more,” he says, voice small.

“Doesn’t seem that much worse than yesterday,” you agree, pulling back. “You’re lucky. I didn’t run track, but I’m pretty sure falling isn’t supposed to do wonders for a fracture.” You frown. “What were you even doing when I got back, anyway?”

“You were late,” Sungyoon says. “By over an hour. I tried to see if I could find you.”

Something in your heart cracks at the tinge of fear in his words. He hides it well, but you can still detect the terror that frays his voice. It was in yours every time Daeyeol came back so much as a minute later than he told you, and in his every time you returned with a single scrape or cut on your skin.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize again, sitting on the floor. Your back presses against the bed. If you looked up, you could probably meet Sungyoon’s eyes, but exhaustion weighs your head and limbs. “I got chased by a few zombies and had to barricade myself in a building before they finally left. When I decided it was safe to go, they apparently hadn’t left, and I fell a few times trying to escape.”

Sungyoon sucks in a breath. “Didn’t you have your gun?”

“Too close quarters.” You shudder at the memory. “I didn’t have enough space to pull it out. Easier to just outrun them.”

Silence falls as you try to shake off the feeling of cold, dead hands trying to grab at your arm. Then Sungyoon sighs. “I’m sorry for pressing you,” he whispers, so soft you almost don’t hear him. “I just don’t like being useless. Or when I’m holding people back.”

You purse your lips. You can commiserate. But how do you make Sungyoon understand that he isn’t useless, even if his leg is costing you time?

“Think about it like this,” you finally say. “If it wasn’t for you, I might’ve gone insane by now. Might not even be alive. I don’t do well when I’m completely alone in my thoughts, especially not when I’m stressed.”

“Extroverted?”

“Not exactly.” You sigh. “Just… I sometimes spiral. And if I don’t have someone nearby me in those moments, I don’t make the best decisions.”

“… We never exactly talked much.”

“Just a presence helps,” you clarify. “Knowing someone’s there is enough. And…” Might as well be out with it. “I was scared of being alone. Terrified. Still am.” You swallow. “Even if it’s silent company, it means a lot to me.”

Sungyoon remains silent for a moment. You almost think you’ve said too much before he speaks. “Me too,” he mumbles. “I was scared, too. Of being alone.”

A pang of guilt resonates in your chest. “I’m sorry –”

“No apologies, right?” Sungyoon breaks in, reminding you of the conversation from just weeks ago. “It’s not your fault. I know that now.”

He does. A sharp certainty edges his words, still inlaid with sadness but free of bitter blame and anger. He has finally reconciled your actions with reality, the same way you’ve reconciled him and Daeyeol, too. And even if you still feel the weight of two murders on your hands, the knowledge that he doesn’t blame you anymore lifts your heart, just slightly.

“I guess I was afraid you would leave on your own terms, once you realized how much I was holding you back,” Sungyoon mumbles. “So I tried to make you go first. I thought if I was the one who made you leave…”

“Well, you can’t get rid of me now.” You lift your head to give him a lopsided smile. “I’m still here, Sungyoon. Doesn’t matter how bad your leg is, I’ll be with you until it heals and then some. Okay?”

“Okay,” Sungyoon breathes. Then – “Thank you for staying. And forgiving me.”

A small, genuine smile replaces the lopsided expression you wore before. “Thank you for forgiving me too.”

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for enduring forgiveness :))

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