shadow is alone at the tower

okay but 

  • nico realizing this is the first time he wasn’t alone and depressed on valentine’s day
  • will being an endless stream of compliments and affection
  • nico actually trying to match the affection because even though he thinks valentine’s day is way overrated he’s a sucker for traditions
  • nico carrying flowers with extreme caution so that they don’t die in his hands before he gets to give them to will
  • the flowers dying anyways, and will still loves them and puts them in a vase in the medical tent anyways
  • dreamy eyes
  • being the cutest couple in camp since percy and annabeth are gone, and please, travis and katie have nothing on them
  • nico shadow-traveling them to the eiffel tower in las vegas because paris is for another year
  • nico not second-guessing if will truly cares about him or not because he trusts will when he says he loves him
Pinky Swear - Wonder Woman

Prompt: Can you do a Wonder Woman x reader where the reader is her daughter and just fluff and stuff. + Prompt for Wonder Woman could be her finding a gang of street kids and taking them under her wings!!

“I don’t know Clark, if Bruce believes it’s not a great idea, hear him out.” Diana said into her phone, heels clicking on the cracked and aging cement of the London sidewalk. This part of the city had definitely seen better days and it brought Diana sorrow to think back on a time when these boarded up houses and decrepit buildings had once been habitable many years ago.

“We don’t have time for a new plan Diana.” Clark sighed on the other end, thousands of miles across the ocean. Honestly, Diana had better things to be doing than mediating this pissing contest between the two most stubborn men she’s ever met. Sadly, even though she wasn’t a part of this mission she was still heavily invested in the results.

“Just talk to him Clark. Come to a compromise. We only get one shot at this to get this right.” Diana urged. Clark immediately started saying something else but Diana didn’t hear any of that. What she heard was a commotion coming from a nearby alley.

“Just leave me alone Johnny!” A young girl sobbed scrunching her eyes closed and turning her face away to face the brick wall of the alley.

“I’ve got to go, Clark.” Diana mentioned, not bothering to hear his response before hanging up.  

Before Diana could think she crossed the street and strode until she towers over the pre teen boy bothering this poor young girl. Diana’s form casted a shadow over the two children. The girl caught onto the change in lighting and stared up wide eyed at the statuesque Amazonian that appeared out of nowhere.

“What are you going to do? Run to your mommy?” He taunted and made a move to yank at the girl’s ponytail but before he could, Diana snatched his hand and lifted him effortlessly with one hand by the scruff of his neck, much like a misbehaving cub.

“Is this boy bothering you?” Diana asked the girl. She nodded and wiped the tears from her cheeks with her tattered and dirty sleeve. Diana turned her gaze back to the boy and gave him a glare that would shake the gods themselves.

“You will leave this girl alone from now on. If I catch you bothering her again I will unleash the full wrath of the gods and will inform your parents of your behavior. Do we have an understanding, young man?” Diana asked. The boy nodded in agreement and Diana set him down. As soon as his feet were on the ground he took off running. When the boy was out of sight, Diana turned back to the girl and kneeled down so that she was at her level.

“Did he hurt you?” Diana asked, looking over the girl for any hint of injury.

“No. Johnny just likes to make fun of me.” She explained in a small voice.

“Where are your parents, little one?” Diana questioned. The girl looked down at her shoes that were dirt covered, three sizes too large, a littered with holes that exposed her small little toes.

“I don’t have any.” She replied, refusing to meet Diana’s gaze. Diana’s heart clenched for the girl. To be homeless in London at such a young age at the precipice of the winter season seemed a fate worse than death. She couldn’t just look away and let this continue to happen.

“Then it’s settled. You’ll come home with me. I’ll set you up with hot food, fresh clothes, a bath and a soft bed in no time.” Diana promised, holding her hand out to the girl in offering. The girl looked up to Diana with fresh tears brimming in her eyes before slipping her tiny hand into Diana’s palm.

 “You’re really nice.” The poor little girl commented in a small innocent voice. Diana smiled warmly down at the girl as she stood up straight and started walking hand in hand with the girl out of the alley and towards her warm, comfortable London flat.

“Little one, as long as I am breathing I swear to you on the gods you will never live another day on the streets.” Diana promised the girl. The girl stopping in her tracks in the middle of the sidewalk and held up her delicate curled pinky up to Diana.

“Do you pinky swear?” She asked. Diana chuckled at the girl’s sweet innocence but ultimately interlocked her pinky with the girl’s. It would seem a ‘pinky swear’ meant more to the child than any amount of promises to the gods.

“I pinky swear.” Diana affirmed. The girl nodded once and started leading Diana in the direction that they were previously walking, chatting a mile a minute and asking a thousand questions about her new home.

2

Tower of Dawn by Sarah J. Maas

Chaol Westfall and Nesryn Faliq have arrived in the shining city of Antica to forge an alliance with the Khagan of the Southern Continent, whose vast armies are Erilea’s last hope. But they have also come to Antica for another purpose: to seek healing at the legendary Torre Cesme for the wounds that Chaol received in Rifthold.

After enduring unspeakable horrors as a child, Yrene Towers has no desire to help a young lord from Adarlan, let alone heal him. Yet she has sworn an oath to assist those in need - and will honor it. But Lord Westfall carries darkness from his past, and Yrene soon comes to realize it could engulf them both.

And deep in the shadows of distant mountains, where warriors soar on mighty ruks, long-awaited answers slumber. Answers that might offer their world a chance at survival - or doom them all.

Summery taken from the back cover of the UK Edition

6

Canon Arya Appreciation Week Day 1 - “Favourite Quote”

Alone, she slid through the shadow of the Tower of Ghosts. She walked fast, to keep ahead of her fear, and it felt as though Syrio Forel walked beside her, and Yoren, and Jaqen H'ghar, and Jon Snow. (A Clash of Kings, Arya X)

Am I the only one

That doesn’t really like Chaol, but is going to read Tower of Dawn anyway, because of Nesryn and the fact that this book is essential to the ToG series??

anonymous asked:

four word prompt: we're not together anymore

“God dammit!” I cursed and kicked the tire of my old red car as smoke billowed out from the engine. It was done, loyal Clifford had finally bit the dust. I couldn’t afford another car right now and now I was going to miss another day of work because there was no way for me to get there now that Clifford was dead. I was sitting against the tire on the side of the road after getting off the phone with AAA, banging the back of my head on the car when a black range rover pulled up behind me. I shielded my eyes and squinted as someone got out of their car and headed over to me.
“Thought I recognized Clifford.” A familiar British accent met my ears and I almost groaned aloud. Could this day get any worse? He towered over me, casting his shadow over my body, “Told you this lump of rubbish wouldn’t last through the summer. D’you need to borrow a phone or something?”
“Already called a tow, but thanks.” I said, sounding the exact opposite of thankful.
He crouched down next to me, “I’ll wait with you then.”
“I don’t need you to wait with me.”
“Someone could come and kidnap you on this road all by yourself.”
“Better than being alone with you.” I muttered under my breath.
“I heard that.”
“Good.”
He sighed, “Look, I know you hate me, but I’m just trying to help you out, I’m not comfortable with you being out here all alone waiting for God knows how long for a tow.”
“Do you think I give a shit what you’re comfortable with? We’re not together anymore.”
He’s quiet, but when I sneak a glance at him, his jaw’s clenched in a way I remember to mean he’s pissed. “Fuck, Y/N, just because we’re not dating doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”
I scoffed, “Well, that makes one of us.”
“How many times do I have to apologize—“
“You don’t, Harry! I don’t care! I don’t care about you or that stupid fucking relationship and I don’t want to talk about it!”
He’s quiet a moment, “I know you well enough to know that you do care, if you didn’t you wouldn’t be so angry.”
I hated him, hated that he knew me that well, hated myself for letting him know me that well. “Fuck off.” I muttered, but my voice cracked and my eyes filled.
“I know you don’t believe me, but I love you. I never stopped. And I know you hate me so it doesn’t matter, but I love you. I think about you every day, I can’t delete the pictures of us off my phone, and that notebook you always used to carry around with you is still in my glove compartment, but I never told you because I was afraid giving it back to you would be the last time I saw you and I’m not ready for that. I’ll never be ready for that.”
I impatiently wiped a tear off my cheek, “I’ve been looking for that notebook for ages.”
He gave a short laugh, “That’s the only thing you took from that?”
“Did you read it?”
“No… Of course not. I would never invade your privacy like that.”
I watched him for a moment, “I only believe you because if you had read it you’d know that I don’t hate you at all. And I never did.” That notebook was filled with every memory we shared together. I had a notebook for every year of my life starting from sixth grade and I would tape in little memories, movie tickets, receipts, flowers. I would write any thoughts that came to my mind, sometimes poetry, sometimes I’d draw. And I remembered how full that last notebook had been of Harry. Endless drawings of his mouth, endless receipts and ticket stubs from places we’d been, endless words that had come from his mouth being turned into poetry, a page that I had sprayed with his cologne and had simply drawn doodles of his tattoos on. That had been my favorite page. I wondered if it still smelled of him. I had always thought he was walking art and I tried so hard to put that on paper so I would always remember. I think I knew deep down, even then, that we weren’t forever.
But it didn’t stop me from hoping. And it didn’t stop my heart from breaking the day he left.
I felt his hand hesitantly slip into mine and I didn’t stop him. Instead, as his thumb traced circles on the back of my hand, I closed my eyes and leaned my head on his shoulder, swearing I heard him sigh contentedly at the contact of my body on his.
And we stayed like that until the tow truck arrived, a silent surrender.

The fandom’s elain:
La-di-dah skipping around throwing flowers everywhere*
“You get a flower crown”
“And you get a flower crown”
“And You get a flower crown”
Book elain:
“When a tree falls alone it makes no sound”

Stares out the window*

Bad Moon Rising [Modern!Kylo x Reader]

Summary: A flat tire and a chance encounter crosses your path with Kylo’s. His good looks and intrigue draw you in, but there’s something hiding behind those dark eyes still to uncover.

BMR Masterlist // AO3

A/N: Alright. Here’s my first go at this. I wanted to add more detail, but I think I’m going to end up making this into a short series (I already have part 2 written!) so I wanted to get through the inciting incident first. Hope y’all like it!

Warnings: Language.

Word count: 2,500+


The night was frigid and exceedingly dark, the heavy cloud cover blocking out any light from the moon. You hated working late, but that was exactly what you had done every day this week. Working late was one thing but working late in retail was another. At the end of a dayshift you could grab your stuff and leave. But a night shift just took it out of you. You had to restock and tidy up and didn’t end up leaving until an hour after the store had closed. Now you were exhausted and just wanted to get home, so you decided to take your shortcut. It would get you home faster but you had to drive through some sketchy areas first. During the day this wasn’t a problem, but now was nearly midnight and the city was basically dead. This route would get you home much faster, however, and all you could think about was getting in bed.

Keep reading

8

They don’t see my face any more, only hands that hold out coin to them.
                                  The faceless king. So be it…

Sparks Chapter 22

Originally posted by captaincentenarian

Pairing: Bucky(POV) X Reader(POV) ft. other characters from the avengers team

Word Count: 7.1K 

Summary: Going to a club with Bucky and his new “girlfriend”. Feeling overwhelmed bc life is stressful and slipping into old ways. Bucky taking care of you when you’re high out of your mind and having mini anxiety attacks bc contrary to popular belief drugs fuck ya up kids…

Warnings: Drug use.

A/N: I spend months thinking about this particular scene and I had quiet the mental struggle deciding wether I should built up to this or include this. But, I feel like I should bc its something close to my heart… I hope I do it justice. Bc lately i’ve been feeling like my writings been shit. I tried guys.

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Things Are Different (Secrets)

Summary: After leaving your assassin life behind, you seek a new life to forget your past. Nick Fury brings you into the life of the Avengers, posing as Tony Stark’s personal assistant. But, what happens when your secret’s revealed?

Pairing: Avengers x Reader, (Eventual) Steve x Reader.

Secrets Masterlist


You could feel that everyone viewed you differently. The team and the agents downstairs worked to please you and always dropped whatever they were doing to help you out. 

You were a legend and you knew it. The world of heroes and villains talked about you, but you were never one to raise your hand and reveal yourself. Now that the cat was out of the bag (at least in the tower), you never felt more awkward in your entire life. 

The agents would always ask if you wanted more coffee and volunteered to do things for you so that you could rest. The team always praised you (which you found flattering, but now it seems that that’s all they talk about), and you can’t walk around the tower without someone mentioning Shadow. 

You came to terms with the fact that Shadow will always be a part of your past. Acknowledging Shadow was the first step to accepting that you are a changed person who once had a life of crime, but is now working to better yourself. You never forgot, but you never thought about her too much. Now that everyone was reminding you, it was torture to have to think about the terrible things you did under HYDRA’s influence. 

But you had to realise that these people had only heard about you from word of mouth. There were no photos or videos of you and everyone knows that the only way they could’ve seen Shadow is if they encountered her deadly trap before she’d either kill them or leave them to fend for themselves. You weren’t that person anymore, but you understood that it was a big concept to get around. Here Shadow was, working int he tower alongside them, yet they didn’t know. 

You were a killer by HYDRA’s command, but now you are someone who’s trying to make themselves a better person. That’s all. You wanted to leave Shadow behind and never look at your face in the mirror without thinking of her.

You never felt more lonely. Everyone, with the exception of Fury and Peter, seemed to mention Shadow. They’d weave it into the conversation and you’d make up any excuse to leave. You’d sit alone in your room, knowing fully that if you joined them for dinners at the table or lounging time, they’d find a way to bring up your past.

Fury was in his office, as you expected. It was late at night and you couldn’t sleep, so you thought you’d pay him a visit. 

“Y/N, can’t sleep?” you shook your head. 

“I’ve been thinking a little too much lately,” you said. 

“Oh yeah? About what?” he asked, not looking up from his reports. 

“About Shadow.” He stopped, put his pen down, and looked at you. 

“And what about her?”

“I can’t go a day without someone reminding me who I was. I thought I’d gain a friend, but all I gained was fans of Shadow, not of Y/N.” 

“But isn’t that what you wanted? Someone who understood you?” 

You sighed and took a seat in front of his desk. “This isn’t what I wanted. What I want is someone who understands who I am without feeling the need to fangirl over Shadow. I want someone to understand I’m not her and I’ll never be her ever again. I don’t like Shadow.” 

Fury sighed and gave you a sympathetic look. “I can’t offer you much help, Y/N, but know that I’m glad you’re here, okay?” Try to get some sleep.” 

You stood up and waved goodnight before returning to your chamber, finding it even harder to sleep.


Peter arrived at the tower in his suit and pulled off his mask, jumping up to sit on the kitchen counter. 

“What’s up, Y/N?” you sighed and rested your chin in the palm of your hands, letting out a groan. “I’m taking it that things aren’t too well?” 

“I’ll be honest with you, Peter. You may be extremely younger than I am, but you’re probably my first and only friend.” 

Peter quirked his eyebrow. “I’m sure you have lots of friends. I mean, you’re smart and really nice.” 

“Thanks, Peter, but growing up wasn’t really something I did around kids.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, um, I guess I should just tell you now since the entire team knows. My alias is Shadow, a former assassin who was under HYDRA until the branch I worked for was taken down. Growing up, they were the only family I had ever known and I thought the things I was doing was for a good cause. Much like Bucky, the brainwashing stopped working and I wanted to separate myself from HYDRA. 

“I was able to do that for a while. I took a job here after Fury persuaded me to stay and worked as Tony’s assistant, until I had to rush to the team to save them. My secret’s out now and I feel like a wreck because everyone’s treating my differently.” 

Peter was stunned. He didn’t know who Shadow was prior to you telling him your backstory and he felt upset that you felt this way. 

“Hey, hey,” he said, jumping off the counter to give you a hug as you stayed still. “You’re no different in my eyes, okay? I’m happy you shared part of your life with me. I feel honoured. You’re one of my best friends, no matter the age gap. You don’t treat me like a kid.”

“You know, you’re a lot wiser than Tony gives you credit for.”

Peter laughed. “I like to think so. But I mean, I know what it’s like to be haunted by demons. Mine aren’t as big as yours, but you know,” he said, referring to Flash Thompson. 

“Yeah, I know. Thanks, Peter.”

Peter gave you a smile and you returned his with a weak one. “Why don’t you get some sleep. You looked really tired.” You yawned and nodded, promising to see him some time in the next few days before finding yourself asleep on top of the blankets. 


Tags: @wildefire, @amazonprincess-diana, @whiskeyandmarvel, @wavexrippler, @konomoma, @sumiaran, @fandom-planet-lover, @taylenas2, @ravenclaw-geek24, @dropdeadrxses, @c-hasinghosts, @angielollipop, @sammysgirl1997, @doncasterparker, @generalgoldfishldrm, @crazy4thewinbros, @remial, @ashxley03, @captainnbarnes, @vixrobs98, @echointhelibrary, @aestheticly-harry, @justcallmeyeli, @38leticia, @shaexoox, @jonsnowisnotdeadthough, @emilypkuzu, @woofstar64, @peches-et-lait, @socialheartbreak, @ipaintmelodies, @thebookisbtr, @tahiti-island-dream, @charlotte-of-the-enterprise, @whatamidoingwithmylife18, @gotnotfeature.

Unstable (Part 3/?) (Parker/Avengers x reader)

Part 2

“Steve…I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry…”

“Does anyone know where Vision is?!”

“Steve…I can’t stop it…I’m sorry…”

“I know, (Y/N)…it’s not your fault…”

“FRIDAY, where the hell is Vision?  Or Maximoff?”

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Inspired Encounter #19

imade credit: Menterart

(Thank you, Menterart for the submitted artwork! Sorry I was late to finish this but between Inktober and work I haven’t had much time to brew!)

Sibillon was a psion who attempted to become a Psion Uncarnate, shedding his mortal form to become a perfect, disembodied mental force. However, his process was misguided, as he inadvertently transformed himself into a shadowy vestige of his former self. He still can access several of his powers, but he has lost parts of his memory preventing him for reaching his full potential in this form. Not to mention his newfound hunger for psionic energy.

To sate his hunger, he emerges from the shambled remains of his tower each night and floats to the nearby village to prey on those wandering alone. Most victims barely remember being attacked thanks to his Suggestion ability that he uses to lure them into his chilling caress. If anyone sees him or tries to run, he will use either his Death Urge or Psychic Crush abilities to stop them in their tracks. He uses these abilities sparingly as they are draining on his well of psionic energy that keeps his spectral form together. Even so, wisps of shadow seem to shed and spill from his body, forcing him to return to his tower to recover each dawn.

Sibillon, the Psychic Wraith (CR 7)

Medium Undead, lawful evil

AC: 15, HP: 90, Speed: 60 ft. fly

STR 11; DEX 14; CON 9; INT 16; WIS 10; CHA 13

Saving Throws: WIS +6, CHA +8

Skills: Perception +3

Resistances: Acid, Cold, Fire, Lightning, Thunder, nonmagical nonsilvered weapon damage. 

Immunities: Necrotic, Poison, charmed, exhausted, grappled, paralyzed, petrified, poisoned, prone, restrained

Vulnerabilities: Radiant

Senses: Darkvision 60 ft.

Sunlight Sensitivity: while in sunlight, Sibillon has disadvantage on attack rolls, and Perception checks relying on sight.

Incorporeal Movement: Sibillon can move through other creatures and objects as if they were difficult terrain. He takes 1d10 force damage if he ends his turn inside on object.

Actions:

  • Mind Drain: Melee Weapon Attack: +6 to hit, reach 5 ft., one creature. Hit: 21 (3d10+4) Psychic damage. The target must succeed on a DC 15 WIS saving throw or its INT score is reduced by 1d3. This drain heals at a rate of 1 point per day. If the creature is reduced to 0 INT in this way, the creature falls into a coma and transforms into a wraith under Sibillon’s control 1 minute later. Sibillon can learn one fact of his choice about the creature each time the creature fails their saving throw against his Mind Drain attack.
  • Concussive Blast: Ranged Spell Attack: +5 to hit, range 60 ft., one creature. Hit: 23 (4d8+4) force damage.
  • Suggestion: 2/day. WIS save DC 15. As the Suggestion spell, except that it may affect up to three targets with the same suggestion.
  • Psychic Crush: 1/day. CHA save DC 15. Targets one creature. If the targets fails their saving throw, they are reduced to 0 HP and begins dying. If they are treated or recover naturally, they regain all the HP they had the turn before this ability was used. This effect requires Sibillon’s concentration.
  • Death Urge: 1/day. WIS save DC 15. Targets one creature. On a failed saving throw, the creature is consumed with an irresistible compulsion to commit suicide, and finds the quickest way possible to do so. They can use their Insight skill if they have several options to determine what they believe would be the most efficient way to do so, whether they jump off a nearby cliff or stab themselves with a dagger. The creature can make a save each round to end the effect. If they are reduced to 0 HP before the effect ends, the effect ends prematurely. Otherwise, this effect persists for 1 minute using Sibillon’s concentration.
The Dragon and his fairy

Out of everything that I should be doing, I could not get this idea out of my head so here is Fairy Levy and Dragon Gajeel!

This will more than likely get updated only once a week since it is short but that is subject to change. 

This is also a special gift for @bianww

Summary: He was the feared Iron dragon who lived alone in his vast kingdom, however when he finds and injured fairy his whole world is thrown into a spin.

Rated T (This might change)

Word count: 1715

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Black, No Sugar

summary: 

i have a history paper due tomorrow and you’re sitting beside one of the only outlets in this shop and also your taste in coffee is shit” (or something along those lines)

warnings: none 
word count: 1842
a/n: for the anon that asked for a coffee shop au. i hope you like it! 


The coffee shop is quiet. It’s one of the few reasons Bucky’s always here – it’s an escape from the usual mayhem at the tower, where Sam and Wanda are pranking him or Natasha and Clint are watching movies on full volume or Tony and Steve are yelling at each other regarding his accommodations. During the day, at least. At night, it serves as an elusion to his nightmares. A cup of coffee to keep him awake and some time alone to think, it’s all he needs.

He hasn’t slept in three days and his face is showing it: red-rimmed eyes with purple shadows beneath them. The lord knows he needs sleep, but the second he closes his eyes he’s clutching his sheets with knuckles as white as his face becomes, struggling to get air down his lungs as his heart threatens to hammer out of his chest and his throat feels like he’s swallowed hot rocks because he’s been screaming so loud.

It’s been three days since he’s so much as laid down in his bed, opting instead to come sit in the mildly comfortable chair of the small coffee shop across the street. It’s just past five in the evening, but the skies are grey and a mixture of rain and snow is pattering on the window beside Bucky. He stares outside, watching people walk past with shopping bags in their hands, squinting from the snow in their face, the occasional twinkle of a Christmas light shining in their eye.

“Mind if I sit here?” He turns around, bleary eyes settling on the form of a girl, maybe a couple years younger than him, with cheeks reddened by the winter wind and snowflakes dotting her hair and scarf.

Bucky raises an eyebrow, and almost reflexively his eyes scan the rest of the coffee shop. It’s full, but there are still enough empty seats for the girl to find one for herself, and anyone who wants to be near him despite the various other options is usually a threat. When he looks back at the girl, she’s flushing. “I don’t mean to intrude,” she says, gesturing to the outlet beside him. “It’s just, I have a paper to finish and the only other outlet in the coffee shop is beside them–“ she points to a group of formally dressed people, taking up all the seats around their table.

Despite his desire to be alone, Bucky finds himself nodding, and with a small, sincere “Thank you,” the girl sits down into the seat across from his, pulling out her laptop.

It’s silent after that. People filter in and out of the place, eventually dwindling down to maybe three or four, and Bucky and the girl. It’s dark out now, the snow beginning to pile up, and there are no more people walking outside for Bucky to look at.

“Do you do that often?” He turns to look at the girl. At some point she’d gotten up to get herself some coffee. Bucky’s own cup sat on the table, empty.

“Do what?” Bucky cringes at his own voice. It’s hoarse and raspy, like he hasn’t spoken in days. He hasn’t really. Most of the time he’s spent either shut up in his room, avoiding everyone, or in the coffee shop, people watching. No one’s talked to him until now.

A part of him wishes he could strike up conversations the way he used to be able to – the way James Buchanan Barnes used to be able to; with a flirty smile and the right words always up his sleeve. But the Winter Soldier didn’t converse. He– it– didn’t smile, or talk much, or feel much. Bucky’s not the Winter Soldier, not anymore, but he’s not James any more either, where the only thing he had to worry about was making sure he had enough money for Steve’s medication. He’s something in between, an indefinite identity. And god, he would do anything, anything, to be something more, but every time he goes to bed, he’s reminded of his past, of all the terrible things he’s done, of–

“Watch people.” He’s pulled from his thoughts by the girl, who’s looking at him with an expression on his face that he can’t quite place. Her voice is soft and calming, and it’s been so long since he’s heard someone talk to him without exasperation or annoyance or sadness or pity. He likes it.

He shrugs. “Sometimes,” he says, voice clipped. He wants to say more, keep the conversation going because it could be the first proper conversation he’s had in months, but its reflex to not talk to strangers, to not trust strangers. Her face falls, taking in his body language, the way his shoulders are hunched and his red eyes are scanning the room every now and then. The expression only lasts a fraction of a second, then she’s smiling and nodding and looking back at her computer screen, but Bucky catches it.

“What’s your name?” He blurts.

She looks surprised as she looks at him again over the top of her laptop, before her features settle into warm smile. “Y/N. It’s Y/N. What’s yours?”

“Bucky.”

And then they’re talking. He asks her what she’s working on. It’s a paper, on the Second World War, she answers, and is he interested? And then he’s telling her all about it, he’s a history major and he’s done all sorts of readings on it, and actually that fact is wrong and this is what actually happened, and for the first time in so long he feels relaxed. He’s tired as hell and the lord knows he needs to sleep but in the moment he feels nothing but calm, and maybe a little bit excited because there’s a girl in front of him listening to him, looking at him with the most genuine expression of interest on her face, and god, for once he feels like he’s helping someone, even if it’s a history student that has a paper due tomorrow.

He watches her as she notes down everything he’s saying, from the smallest facts to books that she should take a look at, with pure admiration on his face, because this is the first person to not cower away from his blank, tired face or talk to him in clipped, cautionary tones or look at him with pity in their eyes. There’s a feeling bubbling up in his chest and it’s warm and comfortable and – and he’s smiling.  

“What?” She asks, and there’s a flush rising to her cheeks and Bucky realizes that she’s caught him staring.

He coughs, eyes widening fractionally before his expression goes back to stoic. (The warmth in his chest is still there, though.) “Nothing.” He looks away.

“Bucky,” she says. He turns his head back towards her, eyebrows up in question. “Thank you. So much.” She smiles and he’s smiling back again, and she stands up and begins to pack up and his eyes go wide. He’s being stupid, he knows as much, but he doesn’t want her to leave.

She packs everything up and then turns to him. “How do you like your coffee?”

“What?”

She laughs, then repeats, “How do you like your coffee?”

He scratches his forehead. “Black, no sugar, why?”

She scrunches up her nose in disgust, and Bucky finds himself laughing. It’s a foreign sound, even to his ears. He watches her rush towards the counter and come back with a drink in her hand. She thrusts it towards him and he wants to say no, that he can’t take it, but she’s holding it out to him with a pleading expression, so he reaches up and wraps his gloved fingers around it.  

“Thanks,” he whispers.

She smiles and leaves without another word.


He’s back at the coffee shop everyday after that, half hoping to find the girl there again. She isn’t there. Not the next day, or the day after, or the day after that, or the day after that. It’s been five days since he’s met her – Y/N  – and the initial disappointment that filled him has slowly ebbed away. Bucky’s back to staring out the window, watching people go by.

It’s nearly eleven p.m., and Bucky’s getting up to throw out his fifth cup of coffee before he heads back to the tower. His coat is wrapped tightly around him, gloved hands shoved into his pockets, and eyes cast down. He about ready to leave the shop, standing with his shoulder ready to push the door, when it opens. Bucky barely has time to register what’s happening before there are arms wrapped around him, squeezing.

His first reflex is to push the person off of him, until he hears their voice.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” It’s Y/N. She lets him go and takes a step back with the brightest smile on her face, thrusting a wad of papers towards him. “I got an A, all thanks to you!”

He feels the laughter bubbling up inside of him, and then he’s laughing, hard, and there are tears forming inside his eyes and he can’t stop laughing and she’s smiling.

“What? What’s so funny?”  

He waits until his laughter dies down, then, “I’ve never seen someone so happy about a grade, is all.”

She flushes, and punches his arm. He laughs again. “I’m joking, great job.”

Y/N smiles, and he turns to head out again because as much as he wants to stay here, he really needs to get back to the tower.

“Bucky?” He stops. “Meet me here tomorrow, at seven?” He smiles, nods, and leaves, heading back to the tower.


The first thing Bucky notices when he enters the coffee shop is that he’s the only customer. There’s nobody there but two baristas who smile and welcome him.

The second thing he notices is that he’s the only customer. Y/N’s not there. Maybe she’s late, he reminds himself. She’s probably on her way. He makes his way over to his usual table.

The third thing he notices is the cup of coffee on the table, holding down a folded slip of paper. Bucky’s name is scrawled on it.

With eyebrows knit together, he takes a seat and unfolds the slip. There’s a number written across the top, then a note.

Hi Bucky,

I’m so sorry I had to run, and I didn’t have your number to let you know. Here’s mine. I promise I’ll make it up to you: Saturday at 8 at the diner across the street? 

Sorry again,
Y/N

P.S. The coffee is just the way you like it. =)

He can’t stop the smile that makes its way onto his face as he finishes reading the note. He sits down, shoulders feeling lighter, and takes a sip of the coffee.

It’s black. No sugar.

Bucky pulls out his phone, heart pounding with a rush of anxiety and excitement as he types:

It’s a date.

Lie With Me

Pairing: Bucky x reader
Word count: 1,118
Warnings: None, I think
Summary: You are assigned to Bucky Barnes, after Steve’s worries about him attract Fury’s attention. The only problem is he likes to stay in his room and all it took for him to open up was a bottle of misplaced beer.
****************
He was a recluse and one that was tough to crack. You knew that he had been through so much over the years that he was held captive by HYDRA. Torture and brainwashing were the security to make sure that the asset would be able to be the perfect weapon.

Being someone who was used to spending time in the shadows you observed him silently as he went about his day to day life in the minimal movements he made around the compound. He liked to be alone and stick to the familiar, mostly Steve. You knew about their past together in the 40’s from the files that Fury had provided you.

You read his files as you walked around the halls of the tower in your normal attire which consisted of an old Bon Jovi T-shirt and jeans. Your hair fell into easy waves that ended just below your shoulder blades and lightly swished as you walked.

“Light reading?”

You looked up from your spot by the window to spot Sam looking at you in curiosity. You gave him an easy smile and closed the file.

“Of sorts.” You remarked, humoring him.

“What’s it about?”

“It’s just to soothe my curiosity.”

“Those are SHIELD files.”

“Yes. Very good observation Mr. Wilson.”

“Fury?”

“Of course. Who else would I get them from?”

“The fall of SHIELD dumped all of their documents onto the internet. All the information is free use now.”

“Very true. But the files I want weren’t on SHIELD’s database. They were in Kiev and some in Russia.”

“Stalker.” He teased.

“Of sorts but he’s fascinating to me and how am I supposed to help when he’s buried himself in his room?”

“Ah. Frosty.”

“Frosty isn’t his name. It’s James, Bucky, whatever he prefers.”

“You’re getting defensive.” He sang.

“I know what it’s like to be driven out of your mind and made into your worst nightmare. Contrary to popular belief, he’s not the only victim.”

Sam looked down at his drink and twirled it in his hands.

“Sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. Don’t worry about it. I’m still here, aren’t I?”

You heard a soft tinkling and looked behind you to see the man himself dig through the refrigerator.

“I moved them to the top shelf.”

He looked up at you in surprised.

“The beer. There’s more room up there.”

He returned his attention to the too shelf and took one out. He opened it with his metal arm.

“Thanks.” He spoke softly.

“Not a problem.”

He turned and walked back down the hall, vanishing from sight. You looked back at Sam who was still watching his retreating form.

“That’s the most I’ve ever heard him speak this week. Congrats.”

You smiled a bit to reassure Sam but you knew exactly what was tormenting Bucky. You weren’t sure how to fix it.

—-

Despite not being the head of a supposed “dead” organization, Fury was still capable of giving you orders. You didn’t mind because it was a sort of redemption from all your years of being a captive at HYDRA and now you were able to help others who were going through the same things you were.

After coming out of cryo from Wakanda, Steve had asked for help. Bucky had remained holed in his room and remained there until he was dragged out by Steve for some minor socializing. Fury had sent you to help since you were the only other victim he could find.

You hadn’t officially spoken to him yet but the interaction in the kitchen had proved fruitful. You had been lounging in the common room with a book when he sat at the other end of the couch with a blanket. He didn’t say anything but you did catch him looking at you a few times.

The next time, a movie was playing and he moved a bit closer, making one comment about the movie and then returning to silence. This happened many times, until today when you didn’t see a trace of him anywhere. Steve hadn’t seen him either.

Being concerned for good reason, you wandered down the halls as the sun began to set to his room, to see if he needed anything. You gently knocked on his door.

“Bucky? It’s (Y/N). I…I brought you some food. You’re probably hungry.”

You didn’t hear anything from behind the doors, not even a shuffle of movement. You sighed for a moment and kept the tray close to your body.

“I read about your past. I…it’s not going to be the same but I made you a Coney hotdog. I hope I did it justice.”

You waited for a few more minutes in the company of silence before you spoke again.

“You’re not the only one HYDRA used. Fortunately for you, you had 75 years. I had over 100, and I am more dangerous than you, more kills, more blood on my hands than you will ever imagine. I…I understand what you’re going through because I’m going through it too. I want to help you the way that I was helped, if you’ll let me.”

The door opened rather quickly and you stepped a few feet back, startled by the sudden movement. He looked at you and then the tray in your hands.

“You had me at the Coney dog.”

—-

You situated yourself on the edge of his bed and he had the tray in his lap, munching quietly on the meat and the apple slices. He had almost finished the water you provided and you refilled it.

“How did you…get better?” He asked, breaking the silence.

“Time, patience, a willing participant who was able to put up with me.”

“What about that participant?”

“Moved on a while ago. It’s okay, I guess.”

“Were you…in love?”

“Yes. It was easy to when you’re so intimately connected to someone who’s witnessed the worst of you.”

You traced absent patterns on the bed sheet as you avoided eye contact with him. It was easy to tell about it now but better to admit the emotion that laid beneath it.

“I don’t think that I can be helped.”

“I was brainwashed for 100 years and I’m fine now. I can help you.”

You gently approached him and softly pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Lie with me, please?” He asked.

“Of course.”

The tray was set to the side and you cautiously snuggled into his arms as he held you close to him. You could hear his heartbeat against your ear as it bested strongly.

“You’ll be okay. I promise.” You whispered in the dimming light of the night and he believed you.

TAGS: @ursulaismymiddlename @abovethesmokestacks @mellifluous-melodramas @lersia I probably missed someone, sorry. If you want to be added on my tag list, which I will be starting, please tell me!

Her touch

Link woke up to a bright light behind his shut eyelids.

He opened his eyes, squinting at the white glow on the other end of the room where his latest “interrogation” took place. Even with all the light, however, he couldn’t stop himself from widening his eyes in surprise for a second when he realized what it was.

Keep reading

New Masterlist

Hi there. So, this is a masterlist of all the content I’ve ever produced/content written in relation to what I put out for easy viewing.

Of course, this will be updated every time I write/draw something new.

I hope you enjoy looking through all I have to offer ;3


FFXV Fanfiction


FFXV Headcanons


FFXV Week


FFXV OC Story: Reverse Arcana


Lyrics


Misc. Headcanons


Misc. One-Shots

  • Clean This Up! [Assassination Classroom | Karma Akabane and Ryoma Terasaka]
  • Snow Halation [Fruits Basket | Yuki Sohma x Machi Kuragi]
  • Taxman [Legend of Zelda: A Link Between Worlds | Ravio]


Poetry


Sorcery-of-Six: A collaboration blog with insomniasix


Shitposts


Theories and Tin Foil Hats