ftfanfics asked:

Chrysalism; the amniotic tranquillity of being indoors during a thunderstorm.

This one’s for the speechless challenge over on @ftfanfics :3 Thanks for the prompt @epeolatryx!! Hope I pleased you, hehe.
wordcount: 644
pairing: nalu
prompt: chrysalism

The sound of heavy rain filled the muggy air, the sound of raindrops hitting the window sill and shattering into fine dust. Its scent carried on indoors through a window that stood just a tad ajar. It rushed along rain drains, slightly rusted from age, and filled the barrel it was directed into with vigour.

Heavy thunder crashed over the town, roaring and shaking and threatening to tear down whole rooftops if it should be granted its will. And yet the small town withstood bravely.

All doors were virtuously locked, all windows closed securely, in hopes it would keep out the rain that seemed dead-set to drown them all. And yet one window remained open, if only slightly, and the woman passing it by inhaled deeply.

The air was damp, and yet already held the promise of the freshness so unique to cleansing rain, cleaning out the dust hanging in the air of the room.Steam rose from both cups she held, golden hair tamed in a comfortable bun.

Her wooly socks made soft contact with the old wood beneath her feet, which creaked slightly at the exact spot it always did, right when you rounded the little hallway and passed into the living room.

The couch awaited her like an open invitation: soft blankets and large pillows, and most important of them all, the man who was lazily sprawled all across it, cradling a blue, sleeping cat to his chest.

The sound had notified him of her arrival, and he had craned his neck just slightly to catch sight of her as she walked towards the pair with a smile warmer than the cocoa she was holding. He returned it.

Carefully placing the two cups of steaming hot chocolate heaven onto the little table in front of them, Lucy breathed a sigh of relief when not a drop spilled. As she slipped in beside Natsu, gladly accepting the warmth he offered beneath the blanket, a content sigh escaped her.

Outside, the thunder roared. The rain, however, seemed to have run its course, its force beginning to drown out after its relentless assault. But the soft tapping against the window glass served as a gentle reminder of its presence.

But the presence of Natsu by her side felt all the more comforting, his natural, immense body heat sinking into her as she snuggled into his side and felt his arm wrap around her.

The room was quiet, tranquil, and neither felt the need to speak a word as they let the comfortable atmosphere envelope them. Lucy felt her eyelids droop, and would have given in had not the temptation of hot chocolate held her back from drifting to sleep.

Lazily reaching out her free arm, the one currently not busy with tracing circles into the hot skin of Natsu’s back, she snatched a cup. It was only then she realized the other no longer stood in its original spot. Glancing at the man by her side, she raised a brow when she spied the chocolate moustache adorning his upper lip.

He grinned back at her, and she faintly discerned the sound of the cup setting back onto the table. Her eyes remained on his, spying the mischievous gleam within, and rightfully so. Swiftly leaning the tiniest bit forward, he pressed his warm, wet lips to hers in a loving little peck.

When he pulled back, his lips were clean.

Lucy’s tasted of chocolate and bliss.

She leaned back into soft cushions, taking a sip of her own chocolate. Its scent mixed with that of the rain outside, now merely a drizzle that lightly bounced off every surface it touched. The moisture that hang in the air coated her tongue before the heavy, rich flavour of the chocolate washed it away. It was good.

It paled in comparison to tasting it off his lips.

anonymous asked:

Hey I've been a fan of miraculous ladybug for a while now but I still can't figure out why Marionette and Chat noir is a sin?

Then you have not read enougj fanfiction, my friend

54. “I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. That’s the problem.”

Thanks to the lovely @htgawm-tv for the prompt <3

They had finished watching the episode of The Thorn Birds and Connor obeyed Oliver’s orders to stick to his side of the couch. He licked his lips apprehensively as he glanced at the other end of the couch.

It was late, but Connor didn’t want to leave. Being in that apartment with Oliver, it was the only thing that meant something. It felt real unlike every other aspect of his life. Everything outside of Oliver looked distorted.

Oliver yawned before glancing over at Connor, meeting his eyes. “Well, I’m tired, so you should probably be on your way.”

His heart dropped. Of course, after Oliver had said everything earlier, Connor didn’t expect an invite to stay. Of course not. But this was direct and blunt. No beating around the bush, just a ‘you should go.’

Connor nodded, releasing the pillow he had clutched to his chest for the duration of the episode. “Are things ever going to be okay between us?”

Oliver looked up at him sporting an inquisitive look. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Connor rubbed the back of his neck after gliding his hand through his hair. “Do you ever see yourself forgiving me for what I did? Is there at all an opportunity for this to be… more?”

“I don’t know, Connor. You hurt me. I trusted you and you hurt me.”

Connor felt anxious. Oliver had let him back in and he was going to screw it up by pushing him too  far. “God, you must hate me.”

The other man looked down, an uneasy laugh leaving his lips. “I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. That’s the problem. I tried, but…” Oliver gestured to Connor and then to the apartment. “You obviously see that I failed at that.”

Connor didn’t know what to do or say. “I should go.”

Oliver nodded, not bothering to show him to the door.

Slipping on his jacket, he glanced once more at the couch, once more at Oliver as he opened the door to leave. “Hey, Oliver?”

“Yes, Connor?”

“I’m sorry.” He walked out the door, closing it behind himself, not waiting for a response.

samsjazz asked:

So for a non bellarke prompt, I'm thinking either Blake family fluff or Linctavia fluff in canon. I have an inkling that both of these will be causing us pain this season and fluff is needed. Please and thank you.

my love’s too big for you, my love

a/n: I went with both of these prompts because I’m a sucker for all of these characters. It gets fluffier towards the end! Title from Sort Of by Ingrid Michaelson.

Lincoln twirled the axe in his hand, trying very hard not to glance across the yard yet again. Positioning another piece of wood, he slammed the blade into it. The crack of the log splitting rang in his ears, but it still wasn’t enough to drown out Octavia’s calls floating across the yard.

“Feet further apart! How many times do I have to tell you?”

A thud and a groan immediately followed. Someone must not have corrected their stance quick enough, and she not doubt had knocked them on their feet. He tried not to look, he really did, but then he was seeing her, glowering down at her trainee. Lincoln sighed, because she had been wearing that expression for weeks now, ever since he had started wearing the guard jacket.

Her face pinched sourly whenever she looked at him now. At first he had tried not wearing it in their rooms, just whenever he had business with the guard or the Council. Octavia would inevitably see him around, though, and her gaze hardened as it traced the worn fabric and straining stitches of the jacket stretching across his shoulders. Then she started wearing that expression at home whether he had the jacket on or not. He had tried to be understanding, he really had. When he had found her sleeping outside the walls, his gut had twisted at how tense her body had been, and he had breathed easier when she relaxed at feeling his solidness behind her.

She needed him, the Trikru warrior she had fallen in love with. Still, with war on the horizon, he was needed by others too: by the guard, by the Council, by Bellamy. And all of those people needed him to be part of Skaikru. Without the jacket, he was just Lincoln. With the jacket, he was someone who could make a difference, who could make peace, the type of peace he had always dreamed of but never thought he would see in his lifetime.

So he wore it always now, and Octavia hadn’t spoken to him in a week. He knew it was painful for her, a reminder of her life before, but putting on that jacket made him feel like he was finally home. He was trying so hard to make this easier on her, but she was making it too hard on him to even want to keep trying.

Setting up another log, he grunted in frustration as he split it in half. Her voice carried across the yard to him again, hard and demanding. He swung the axe again, faster. Log, swing, crack. Log, swing, crack. Log, swing

Pieces of wood went flying, fractured into unusable chunks. Those working next to him turned wary glances his way. Raising his hand in apology, he sucked in labored breaths, trying to get his anger under control.

“You alright?” Miller called out, wiping sweat from his brow.

Lincoln nodded, still breathless. “Just got a little too into the rhythm.”

Miller gave him a long look before resuming his work again.

The next log Lincoln set up, he split perfectly. His swings stayed controlled, slow and steady, and his pile grew quickly as he continued to work. The anger was still there though, as was the urge to glance over at Octavia, to make sure that she was still there, that she hadn’t run off into those woods and left him behind.

It was his greatest fear, but he couldn’t bring himself to give up the threadbare jacket, not even for her. Not yet, at least.

Bellamy slid into the seat across from Lincoln, pushing a cup of moonshine his way.

“I’m not drinking tonight.”

Sighing, Bellamy just pushed it closer to him. “Gina sent it over with me. She said you looked like you needed one.”

Lincoln stared at him, unmoved.

“Okay, she really said you looked sad and a little pissed off and have for hours, and you’re scaring off paying patrons.”

The warrior snorted, but his hand curled around the tin cup nonetheless. Still, he didn’t drink, just stared at the contents. Bellamy sighed, then took a swig of his own drink.

“What did she do now?” He asked after a beat.

Lincoln took a drink, no doubt to avoid answering Bellamy’s question.

“She went a whole month without speaking to me once,” he offered. “You know how terrible it is to live in one room with someone who won’t speak to you for a month?”

He took another drink.

“She was eight,” Bellamy continued. “And it was Christmas. She wanted to go see the light show.”

“Light show?”

He resisted a smile. Lincoln never failed to be curious about their life on the Ark, especially when it came to Octavia. “Every year the engineering department rigged up this crazy animated light show for the kids. And the adults, too. We couldn’t have trees anymore, so they came up with something else when the Ark first launched. Mom and I had been before, but we stopped going once O was old enough to be upset about missing out. She argued it was going to be dark in the crowd during the show anyways, so no one would see her. Mom and she fought for days about it, until I threatened to stop telling her about anything that happened outside our room if she kept asking.”

Lincoln whistled. “Bet that went over well.”

“Like I said, she didn’t speak to me for a month.” He paused, swirling his cup. “I felt so guilty, because it was a mean thing for me to threaten. God, her entire life was that box of a room. But I was terrified that she would sneak out, that she would be discovered, and then floated–”

“You were trying to protect her.”

“And I was young and stupid. She was eight, and we were all she had.” Bellamy’s hand clenched into a fist, because no matter how much time passed, no matter how many friends Octavia made, he would still always resent those years she had spent hidden away. “But she forgave me eventually. Even when she wasn’t speaking to me, I told her stories. About school, about the marketplace, the mess hall–she finally broke when I told this story about a prank one of my classmates had played on my teacher. It was just a giggle, but it was the first sound I had gotten from her in weeks. Best thing I’ve ever heard, to this day.”

Bellamy smiled, remembering how the knots in his chest had started to ease that night, relieved that he hadn’t damaged the one bright thing in his life for good.

“Are you saying she’ll forgive me eventually?” Lincoln asked in a wry tone.

Sighing, Bellamy looked him straight in the eye and said, “I’m saying: don’t stop trying. She’s stubborn, especially when she knows she’s wrong. But she loves you, and god knows you love her, so don’t stop trying. Please. She needs you now more than ever.”

Lincoln closed his eyes and sighed, looking more weary than Bellamy had ever seen him. Then his expression eased a bit, and he said, “I won’t give up on her. I don’t ever know if I could.”

“Good man.” Then Bellamy drained his drink and stood. “You know I’m going to give her a talk too, right?’

“You can’t help yourself, can you?”

He just grinned in response. “She’s my baby sister. I have to make sure she’s happy, whether she wants to be or not.”

Two days later at dinnertime, Octavia walked up to the fire and flicked her brother in the side of his head. Scowling, he waved her off.

“I’m trying to eat, O.”

She plopped down on the log next to him, sneaking a piece of rabbit off his plate. “So am I.”

“Get your own dinner.”

“Too tired.” She reached out to his plate again.

He was ready this time, though, and moved it away in time. “Too bad.”

“You owe me, for butting into my relationship.”

“You should be thanking me. Seems you and Linc worked things out.”

Octavia paused, considering her answer carefully. He wasn’t wrong, because things were better with her and Lincoln. It still felt like cold water pouring down her back every time she saw him wearing that jacket, but they had talked it out–yelled it out first, actually. She understood better what that jacket meant to him: belonging, acceptance, importance. It was the same things she had felt when she had gotten her first tattoo, one that resembled Indra’s. She hated that jacket, but she loved Lincoln. Once she had puzzled that out–with help from Bell–Octavia had known she would have to give a little if she wanted her and Lincoln to make it.

“We’re working on it,” she finally said. She stared at the fire, watching the flames flicker and dance in the dark. It was either that or look at her brother, who would no doubt stare at her with overwhelming concern. He had enough to worry about other than her, and she didn’t want to see how heavy her problems weighed on him. They were her problems, and they should stay hers, but that’s never how it had worked with them.

Bellamy sighed understandingly beside her, his plate clinking as he set it on the ground. At first she resisted the arm that he put around her shoulders, but when his fingers drummed playfully on her arm, she huffed and leaned into him. Head propped on his chest, she muttered, “Thanks by the way. Even if I don’t want to encourage your busybody habits, I–we appreciate it.”

“You love him, O. And he loves you. It’s all I’ve ever wanted for you, and I wasn’t going to watch you get in your own way. Not with this.”

“I wasn’t getting in my own way!”


“Much,” she amended, smiling when she felt a chuckle rumble in his chest.

“I’ll still fight him if he breaks your heart,” Bellamy offered.

“Not necessary. He’d win. That’s why I’ll fight him if he does that.” Then she paused and added, “But he’s not going to.”

“I know.”

“Good.” Then she straightened, pulling out of his embrace. After pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, Octavia stood to leave.

“Night,” Bellamy called out.

She waved in response, headed for her and Lincoln’s rooms. He was no doubt already in bed, because he had an early shift tomorrow. Octavia smiled softly as she imagined crawling into bed with him, his solid arms wrapping around her protectively, comfortingly. She would press her ear against his chest, because she loved listening to his heartbeat, deep and steady and beating for her, just like hers did for him.

He was wrong that night by the stables when he told her that her heart was where her soul and herself resided. It wasn’t in her at all. It wasn’t in the woods or the Ark or the sky or the mountain either. It was in him, with him, no matter what he wore or where they lived. Lincoln was her home, her heart, the everything she had ever wanted.

She still hated that ratty jacket he wore, probably always would, but Octavia hoped someday–after this war, after they had found peace–that he wouldn’t need it anymore. And she planned on being around, right by his side, when that day came. So she would put up with it for now, for him. Lincoln always gave her what she needed, and she wanted to give him the same.
Corpus Christi - Sjukdom - Gotham (TV) [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Gotham (TV)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Relationships: Kristen Kringle/Edward Nygma, Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Characters: Edward Nygma, Oswald Cobblepot
Additional Tags: Pre-Slash, Nygmobblepot, Dark, Caretaking, Heavy Angst

He was doubtful by nature, good old Eddie. There was no one to confirm his rebirth. And then Oswald stepped out of the woods, out of the smell of rotting grass and rotting flesh, out of the slack water in dried creeks and coagulated brown slimy blood. The woods, where he buried Kristen, the cemetery with soil so sticky nothing and nobody could be extracted from it appeared to be a womb, which kept his redeemer safe for him.

this story appeared in my mind at night, when I suddenly started wondering, how Edward dressed unconscious Oswald in his own sleepwear. as a rule, when I start wondering, nothing good comes out of it :’D in this case, the thought was followed by the song I listened to before going to bed, Corpus Christi carol performed by amazing neofolk band Fire + Ice (you can listen it here, if you want) and, well, this fic was born. you can read it on AO3 or right here under the cut. it’s dark and angsty, as usual, but I hope you’ll enjoy it!

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The Trouble with Company -3

So I think I would consider this to be the last installment of the first “act” of this fic. Not completely sure yet whether it will be two “acts” or three. The piece after this will be moving into the territory of the original prompt I received. 

The Trouble with Company - 1

The Trouble with Company - 2

Available on AO3 here. 

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Something Good to Celebrate

Summary: It’s New York Men’s Fashion week and Darren finds himself surrounded by gorgeous men who won’t stop lavishing him with attention. He’s undeniably turned on, but there’s only one man he wants, so he’s going home to get him as soon as he possibly can. (Nothing that even resembles cheating, I promise!)
Pairings: Chris/Darren
Words: 2842
Warnings: Dom/sub, sub!Darren, dom!Chris, barebacking, vibrators, fingering, anal sex
Read on AO3

New York City’s men’s fashion week turns out to be a whirlwind, just like it is every year. Taking pictures and meeting people and carefully planning his outfit while actually letting his stylist do his hair for once - it’s all in preparation for one of Darren’s favorite annual events that he wouldn’t miss for the world.

He’d be enjoying it much more, however, if it wasn’t for the fact that Chris flew in early this morning for Darren’s birthday. He’s barely gotten a chance to say hi to him let alone touch him and quite frankly, it’s slowly driving him insane. Who could blame him, though? The entire night has consisted of gorgeous men twice his size gushing over him and touching him and accidentally rubbing up against him while they pose for pictures. And as much as Darren loves Chris, as much as he would never even dream of going near another man while he’s in a committed relationship… he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t getting turned on by the attention.

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geekystreet asked:

Hi! Are you on AO3?

Yes, I am! My psueds are Greenfire87 and YsbaddadenTheBrave. I also have an account under CaptainOfMySoul. Here are links for you – 




Between those pseuds, the following of my fanfictions are available on AO3:

- Your Reclamation, Then (Reylo - Star Wars)

- Gravitational Lensing (Reylo - Star Wars)

- Canticle For a Cardsharp (Rothstein/OC - Boardwalk Empire)

- I Am From the Gutter, Too (Javert/Eponine - Les Miserables)

- The Very Verge of Remembrance (Erik/Christine - Phantom of the Opera)

- The Most Dangerous Dream (Erik/Christine - Phantom of the Opera)

- One of the Forgotten (Arya/Jaqen - A Song of Ice and Fire)

- All The Wrong Choices (Tomione - Harry Potter)

- Buckets and Broomsticks and Salvation is Created (Tomione One-Shots to accompany ATWC)

- Clocks Out of Order (Tomione)

- In The Shadow of Your Wings (Snape/Hermione - Harry Potter)

- Knit Me Together (Snape/Hermione)

- Doubt Thou the Stars Are Fire (Doug Stamper/OC - House of Cards)


Thanks for asking, and I hope you enjoy some of my work!

A month ago, I began posting my fanfiction on tumblr.

Three weeks ago, I hit 100 followers.

Tonight, I’m literally 7 away from 200– it’s honestly so… shocking. While to many, 200 is not a significant number, but each and every single one of my followers are incredible to me. Following someone is such a simple gesture of appreciation, though it also means the world to have so many people supporting you. I don’t know what to say, guys. :’)

For my next milestone, I was considering a continuation of Special Mornings? But I also have another fluffy fic floating around in my head… HmMm mM m, opportunities.

my sister and i were talking and she suddenly said that she wanted a modern anidala au where padmé was the president’s daughter and there’s a life threat on her family so her father gives all the family members personal bodyguards for their protection and anakin is padmé’s and at first she’s absolutely hesitant about being under his protection because she feels like she doesn’t need protection and they fight a lot at first but they eventually bond and fall in love with each other I HONESTLY AGREE WITH HER THAT WOULD BE SUCH A GREAT MODERN ANIDALA AU SOMEONE PLEASE WRITE THIS


Lucas and Akane

As I said I shouldn’t be doing this… Like, really… But I can’t help it!

Once again I borrowed Luca’s design of @dreamersthings who is the OC of @lidsworth. I imagine Akane to be the precious little and cheerful sister of Lucas.

The one image with Mika is somehow an invented continuation of lidsworth’s FF “To Russia”; you can find my sketch and her fanfiction here.

Click on the images for bigger size ;)

Note: The used background is not mine!

I crash into you (and I’m better being broken)

“Raven, why are you so excited about this?” Octavia finally asks, unable to contain her curiosity any longer.
“It’s actually really simple. Bellamy is convinced that the Commander wants to kill Clarke, and I am convinced that she wants to bang her.”

Words: 6019


The muscles on Lexa’s bare arms ripple as she twirls her swords, cutting through the air at a speed that makes them blur. Her sweat shines on her tanned skin, making her glow in the morning light. The man facing her watches her intently and dodges her attack before countering it with a blow that would have disabled any other opponent. But the Commander is a skilled fighter, and she evades his attack gracefully. They circle for some time, each looking for a weakness in the other’s defense. When Lexa sees an opening, she lunges forward. With one swoop of her sword and a flick of her wrist, she sends her opponent’s sword flying through the air, leaving the man completely defenseless. She brings her sword up to his throat, stopping as soon as her blade touches his skin. Then man bows his head in defeat and Lexa turns to face the crowd that has gathered around them.

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How Garchomp Fixed Everything


“Oh, Garchomp, it is just awful.” Augustine lamented to his most trusted partner while he worked to lock up the lab for the night. Garchomp listened to her trainer continue, shadowing each of his steps, “There is something going on with Lysandre, I just know it! He just…” The Professor’s voice dropped low suddenly causing Garchomp to tilt her head closer to hear his words, “He just won’t talk to me anymore…”

Garchomp rumbled lightly and nosed into Augustine’s hair at the sight of his eyes showing the faintest sign of a shimmer. The Professor quickly wiped his face on his lab coat sleeve and offered Garchomp a light pat, “Don’t worry yourself, my sweet. I’m fine.” His face was less than convincing, “I’m sure that Lysandre has just been very busy…” It was clear that he didn’t even believe his words. Garchomp was certainly not fooled. 

Augustine left her to remain in the garden after a few more affectionate pats and another failed attempt in convincing her that everything was fine. She watched and waited until she could just hear the lift stopping at the correct floor and for a few moments longer to make sure that he was at least in his bedroom. Her mind worked and her feet paced and stomped at the short grass of the lawn. Her trainer’s saddened expression still troubling her. The human she knew as Lysandre, he was the one who made her master sad. 

Garchomp knew her claws were not as dexterous as human appendages and she did not wish to wake another sleeping pokemon to assist her with the front door. So she wandered to the back door of the glassed-in garden and tested the handle that was easier for her to grip. Augustine had forgotten to lock it in his distracted state to her relief. She doubted that he would have been all that pleased if she broke through the glass. 

She managed to squeeze herself through the door, without too much damage. Nothing that the repair-human that always made her trainer smile in a silly way couldn’t fix later. For now Garchomp was on a mission. She would give the human, Lysandre, a piece of her mind. 

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anonymous asked:

I really wanna read your fics but the tags "addiction" and "let it burn" only take me to ask. Do you post them on ao3 or ff? I'm really really curious about your writing.

I actually don’t have them on either of those sites but I can definitely put together a list for you. 

Let it Burn
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

You can read the rest of my fics, like one shots and everything under my Fanfiction tag. I hope that helps!

FicRec Masterlist

Okay everyone. I’ve been hoarding a lot of Captain America fanfiction in my bookmarks page and it needs to go somewhere. So I decided to compile a gigantic list of fanfiction that I’ve read and enjoyed. Some of it is Stucky, some  Buckynat, some Gen, a lot of angst. Here we go. 

Gen Fics

The Care and Feeding of Traumatized Ex-Assassins by Sholio - Steve starts to notice someone’s been in his apartment while he’s not there. Set after Winter Soldier; spoilers. Here’s the author’s tumblr.

Strawberries in Wintertime by Sholio“Everyone we know is trying to kill us,” Natasha said as soon as he opened the door. Sam opened his mouth. “Just kidding,” she went on, perfectly deadpan but now with the faintest trace of a smile. “Steve, you need new friends.” Or, how Sam’s apartment turns into a hangout for superheroes, spies, and rogue assassins.

Lay Back, Lay Back by Ultrageekatlarge - Bucky can’t sleep.

Running Through My Veins (An American Masquerade) by cheesethesecondFor all Steve’s bravado, his disregard and his blind determination, Bucky knows that neither of them thought they’d end up here—Bucky, with a body full of poison and secrets, a head full of landmines; Steve, with the weight of a nation on his newly-formed shoulders; both of them, with eyes for each other first.At least that part isn’t new. (Or, Bucky Barnes, from the rescue to the Commandos.) Here’s the author’s tumblr

User’s Guide to HYDRA’s Enhanced Manpower Asset by rokhalA classic fandom format finds a horrifyingly apt application.

Karma’s a Bitch by KiaraSayreSteve and Sam get Bucky a dog. The regrets begin almost immediately.

Color By Numbers by vitolielThe Soldier came up with the plan in his spare time, though he never actually believed he’d put it into practice. Hydra’s reach seemed too complete – too powerful – to actually consider running. But he thought about it.And then the man stopped fighting. And he said he knew him. And the Soldier felt…felt… He knew what he felt was important. So, he ran.

And I Am Always With You by LauralotHe tries to reach out to Steve, but he can’t feel his arm. It’s too cold. Everything is cold save for his blood and Steve’s smile. Long after Bucky forgets his own name, he remembers “Steve." 

How To Train Your Brainwashed Ex-Assassin by teenagemutantninjamushroom (TeenageMutantNinjaFangirl) - His mission is to help Bucky, not punish the Winter Soldier, and he’s the only person he trusts enough to be able to make that distinction.

(Stucky and Buckynat Fics under the cut. It was getting really long)

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