Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world’s great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs.
Summary: Model!Bucky AU with Photographer!Reader. This is your meeting with Bucky, and how your friendship developed into something more.
Pairings: Bucky x Reader (main); Steve x Reader (side)
Word Count: 4,658
A/N: This is a re-write of Dean fic series I never finished. Here’s hoping that I will have motivation to finish this storyline with Buckaroo. Hope you all enjoy! Also, I don’t claim to know how the photography/fashion world works, I’m just… Sorry if there are mistakes.
“Alright, children, enough
chattering!” A large woman with bushy blonde hair and overdone makeup stared
down at her sixth-grade Earth and Space science class. She was frowning and it
was only the first day of classes. She was already feeling the headache that
was sure to make itself known by the end of the week. “Settle down!” she
At her shrill voice, silence
overcame the room and everyone found empty seats to call their own. She gave
them all a wide, forced smile in gratitude. “Welcome to Earth and Space
Science! I am Mrs. Paulson and I will not
tolerate any unruly conduct in my class. You will be wise to be on your best behavior
while you’re in my class. If you aren’t, a detention slip with your name on it
will be waiting for you by the end of class. Do I make myself clear?”
A drone of agreements reached her
ears and she gave a grin of satisfaction. Some kids thought her wolf-like. She
clapped her hands once before picking up a stack of papers, licking her
forefinger to separate the sheets. Oblivious to the grimaces of her students as
she handed them their syllabus, her voice thundered through the room. “Learn it,
live it, love it. I will always abide by the schedule you find there and
everything that will be required of you is written on that very sheet. Is that
understood? There are no excuses!”
Who isn’t crazy sometimes? Who hasn’t driven around a block hoping a certain person will come out; who hasn’t haunted a certain coffee shop, or stared obsessively at an old picture; who hasn’t toiled over every word in a letter, taken four hours to write a two-sentence email, watched the phone praying it will ring; who doesn’t lay awake at night sick with the image of her sleeping with someone else?
Life on the open waters was rough. Literally and emotionally.
Being an explorer of the new world required many months at sea, and currently
you were sailing along the Western coast of Africa; prime pirate territory. You
had warned the captain of your ship that these waters were too treacherous,
that cargo ships taking the shortcut back to England were excellent targets for
those vile creatures called pirates. But he had waved you off, muttering
something about how you were lucky to be on board because you’re a “disrespectful
woman who had no business being on his ship”.
So you had bunkered down, a permanent scowl on your face as the
other shipmates gave you hungry looks. At least if you survived taking this
shorter route you would be home sooner, meaning no more sleeping while
clutching a knife under you pillow. You had no other choice but to accept your
companions, since no other ships would accept a female adventurer. You wished that
the Kraken would come up and swallow them all whole.
Hey, so I’m back with more fics. Honestly I haven’t read that many fics lately, kinda distracted by trying to write my own, here’s to hoping it goes well, right? But the fandom deserves something nice in the light of all the troll fics that were posted. I was wondering if I should update my old rec list? Or should I combine this one and the other one into one massive list? What do you guys think? Anyway, same formula, titles are links and bolded, italics are my commentary. Happy reading!
Shiro’s gone and all he has left of him are a shitty couch and a few pictures on his phone and dog tags that he’s afraid to touch because touching them feels like accepting the fact that Shiro will never touch them again. If he holds them for long enough any traces of Shiro’s touch will be wiped away and replaced, like they were never there to begin with, like Shiro was never there to begin with.
Inspired by this prompt from @thebluemartini: ‘Cassian refuses to let Nesta go into the bathroom because he has a bathtub and fears Nesta will get Hybern flashbacks if she sees it… in the end he gets a shower installed for her instead.’
They didn’t talk about it. The fact that she was afraid of water now. In fact, Nesta would have preferred that he had never even realized she had this fear in the first place. She hated that he so often saw at her most vulnerable, at her weakest… Nesta had never been an emotive person; even in immortality, she found she’d rather hide her true feelings (passionate and never-ending though they were) behind a carefully crafted mask of indifference. Back when she’d still been human, been mortal, her mask had given her power… and that feeling of security stayed with her, despite the fact that she had real power at her fingertips now.
(But beyond that, she loathed burdening Cassian with this. Loathed causing him even more trouble, even more pain. Nesta had never considered someone such as Cassian would walk into her life and rearrange the order of it so completely. She hated him for it. And yet she also loved him for it.)
Sometimes Nesta also hated that power though. How often had she wished her voice had mattered more as a human? How often had she wanted to make others hear her? She had that power now, and more besides. But it was a power – a dark, wild creature – that she stole from the Cauldron… the very same Cauldron whose murky waters now haunted her every step.
The fact of the matter was water frightened her. She’d never forget drowning in the black depths of the Cauldron, so soon after Elain (who had always been everything to Nesta) had been sent in there to die or be reborn. She’d never forget water snaking into her mouth, her ears, her eyes, until she couldn’t escape it, not even as she thrashed as hard as she could. And she’d never forget the voice that had seemed to come from the blackness, that ancient, terrifying power that threatened to destroy her forever.
She’d won against it in the end, had torn some of its terrible power from its very being and risen again into something entirely new. Nesta had earned her victory with nothing more than her pure, iron will.
But now… now she could barely stand the feel of water. Bathing was the worst of it. Every time she forced herself in the tub, her entire body locked up in helpless fear. And she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get air, her mind tricking her into thinking that the water was rising up, that it would drown her all over again.
It was pathetic. She was pathetic.
All of this power and I can’t even take a bath.
That was how Cassian found out about it, actually. He’d walked into the bathroom one day, only to find Nesta unable to catch her breath as she soaked in shallow water, her frail, naked shoulders shaking. Her eyes had been far, far away, he’d told her, her pupils dilated in absolute, unforgiving terror. Cassian had tugged her out of the bath with out a thought, wrapping his body completely around hers until she’d finally felt safe enough to be pulled back to the present.
They hadn’t talked about it after. Nor any day since. Nesta was relieved about that – relieved that Cassian knew her well enough to let her gather herself in silence. Though not in solitude either. No, he’d made sure that he was close at hand any other time decided she couldn’t avoid the tub any longer. He didn’t come into the room though, seeming to know she wouldn’t have responded well to him seeing her like that again. She was ashamed of her weakness, ashamed that she could not seem to conquer this as she had the Cauldron. But, at the very least, Cassian’s presence just outside the door was a comfort.
And then… and then there was this.
She’d walked to the home she shared with Cassian slowly, the dread of the tub already preying on her under her skin. None of it showed on her face, of course. After all, Nesta had long ago learned to hide stupid fears like these – but no one could blame her for taking her time until she finally entered the bathing room. Only, when she finally did, there was no tub waiting to haunt her. There was no tub at all. Instead, in it’s place, stood another… contraption entirely. The floor where the tub once stood was now tiled and surrounded by cloudy glass walls on two sides. Nesta found herself walking through the open entrance between them curiously, immediately seeing what she could only describe as a faucet now attached to the back wall a foot or so above her head.
Nesta blinked in surprise, her indifferent mask dropping completely, her fingers clenching in the soft material of the towel she had wrapped around her. Water would fall from that faucet, she realized dumbly, still staring at this new contraption. Water to bathe with.
Her throat went tight as she finally understood what this meant. She wouldn’t feel enclosed by the tub any longer, wouldn’t feel like she would drown again at any second. She wouldn’t have to panic anytime she wanted to get clean. She wouldn’t have to feel so vulnerable and weak all the time, because of this stupid, stupid fear of hers.
Suddenly, she felt a familiar presence approach from behind, the heat of his chest warming her bare back as calloused hands gently dropped on her shoulders.
“You did this,” Nesta told Cassian in a deceptively even voice.
He ran his thumbs over her skin, his voice a rumble behind her. “Yes,” he said.
Nesta could stop herself no longer, she twisted slightly so she could look at him and meet his hazel eyes, always so full of emotion. “You did this. For me?”
Cassian stared at her for a long moment. “We all have our wounds, Nesta. Physical or not, they shouldn’t have to be borne in silence… Nor should they have to be borne alone.”
Her stuttered in her chest at the sheer sincerity of the statement, at the fact that he arranged all this for her without her even realizing. Somehow Cassian had known how to help her without having to ask, without cloying her with questions that would only make her retreat. No one had ever done anything like this for her before. No one had known her well enough.
“I don’t… I can’t…” Nesta grew frustrated as words escaped her, but Cassian just nodded, his fingers trailing a path down her arms.
“I understand,” he said. “Now come on.”
He walked around her, reaching to turn on the faucet until warm water very gently showered from it. Cassian gestured for her to go ahead but Nesta hesitated.
What if it didn’t matter how she bathed? What if she still panicked at the feel of water on her skin? What if, after all Cassian had done for her, she still froze?
I don’t want to fail him, she thought, or myself.
Cassian, as always seemed to be able to read her. He held out his hand to her. “Together?” he asked.
Nesta nodded, relieved, and took it, lacing their fingers tightly together. After relinquishing her towel, Cassian stripped as well as he could one-handed and even when he had to let go of her hand for a brief moment, he kept himself pressed against her, reassuring them both. Finally, he urged her forward slowly, his wings a cradle around her as held both of her hands from behind.
Nesta couldn’t stop from squeezing his fingers as tightly as she could, her nerves getting to her, but when the water eventually hit them, she felt nothing but warm, pleasant comfort. She relaxed almost immediately under the spray – there was no inevitable feeling of drowning here, no, instead it was like standing under the most peaceful of waterfalls. Nesta’s thoughts remained blissfully clear, no crippling fear rising under her skin.
Cassian seemed to realize this but still he did not stop touching her for a moment. He held her ever so softly, her comfort and ease his sole intention. There was no want in his touch right now, only love and patience and everything else that so often passed between them unspoken. (How had she ever thought him a brute? Cassian could be boorish perhaps, but never a brute. No, he was far more than that, more than she deserved.)
Nesta turned so she could wrap herself completely in him, pressing her ear against his heartbeat, which thudded with a warrior’s steadiness as always. (Still, she had also noticed that it always jumped the slightest bit at her touch as well. The thought frightened and awed her in equal measure.) His skin was so warm against her, so alive that she couldn’t get lost in her memories, even with the water beating at her back.
“Thank you. Thank you for this,” she told him quietly, her voice muffled by his chest.
But Cassian’s arms tightened around her anyways, as if he couldn’t get close enough. “For you, Nesta, always,” he said. “Always.”
She smiled into his skin and took the promise to heart. The sentiment was returned, of course, but she would tell him that later when the darkness of night and the softness of their bed gave her the courage to. For now, she let herself be coaxed further into the spray of the water, Cassian beginning the long process of soothing soap into her skin and hair, his touch a constant thing she knew she could always depend on.
He’d been right. She didn’t need to be alone to get through this. But then, she never really was. Not anymore.
pisces thoughts cascade into melting imagery. they are so romantic with the night sky that they can never love the day. the howls they hear that nobody else can are haunting. the water of pisces is curative and holy, a tonic that embodies the highest healing properties