ar

est. 2003 ; musicals/youtube/anime/literature

[escuerzoresucitado]

[minyicho]

starting a collection of my favourite AO3 author’s notes

honourable mentions

[envymoony]

You're The Risk, I'm Gonna Take It

Summary: Your soulmate's name etched on your arm was the one thing that kept you alive, during your time under the hands of Dreykov and even after being recruited by the Avengers. But sometimes, you wish that the situation wasn't so difficult. Because the owner of the name marked on your arm was the same man was the same man you trained with in the Red Room.

warnings: angst, heavy with reader insert, requited unrequited love, you might be frustrated with the reader but so am i

the idea for this oneshot came from me rediscovering risk by gracie abrams and thinking about how it's a perfect song to use for a soulmate au

wc: 7.3k

-----

“You ever plan to show me the mark on your arm, mini-Widow?” Tony asks you.

He’s holding his glass of champagne in one hand, while playfully grabbing at your arm with his free one. You laugh it off, shoving his hand away from you and tutting at him.

“I can break your hand with a single move, Tony. Don’t even try.”

“Oh, come on! Nat’s seen it!”

As if on cue, Natasha sits beside you, mirroring the same look of amusement you had on your face. “That’s because I’ve known her longer.”

“And she’s seen me nake—”

“Spare me the details!” Tony interrupts you, hands frantically waving in front of your face. “I’ll figure it out. One way or another!”

“Sure, you will, Stark.”

“I’m a genius! Nothing ever gets past me. Now, excuse me ladies, I better stop Thor before he kills Clint with alcohol poisoning.”

From afar, you hear hoots and cheers right where Clint is trying to chug what you assume to be Asgardian mead in a flask. Tony, at first, tries to step in and tell Thor to quit enticing ‘Midguardians’ with a drink that could put the average person in the hospital with just five sips. You recognize the lightheartedness in his tone, but you know that he isn’t entirely far from the truth.

Not everyone was a God or had some freak serum running in their veins.

Just a few feet away from all the ruckuses stood Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, and Bucky Barnes, laughing at some exchange between the three of them. Your eyes immediately gravitate to the brunette—your heart embarrassingly stuttering when you drink in just how good he looked despite wearing a simple outfit. Nothing out of the ordinary, just a dark blue shirt that hugged his biceps really well and jeans that wrapped around his thighs incredibly so.

When your eyes land on him, it’s difficult to stop admiring the features he donned on his body. The little scars scattered around the edges of his face, the wrinkle of his shirt telling you he had most likely grabbed from the bottom of his drawer, the stubble on his chin—which, you realized a few days ago he had kept at the same length ever since you complimented how good it looked on him.

He's annoyingly the most handsome man you’ve ever laid eyes on.

When you let yourself drink in how handsome he looked, you don’t realize his eyes were set on you until you met his stare. Eyes widening in surprise, but you’re quick enough to hide it and smile at him, nerves worsening when you think you see a hint of a smirk on his face. The plates on his metal arm shift as he grips tighter on the bottle of beer he’s nursing down, and you swear he’s doing it to taunt you.

“Does he know?” Natasha’s voice somehow rings louder than the chatter and music.

You turn to her, your smile faltering as you shake your head. You can’t bring yourself to look at her in the eyes, always interrogating and curious. Your hands fidget with the loose thread on your sleeves.

“You should tell him, pchelka.”

“I don’t think he’d like that.”

“Him or you?”

You don’t answer her question, partly because you know it’s rhetorical, and the other because should you give an answer, you’re ashamed of the fact that it was more for you than it was for him.

____

At 5 years old, you remember telling your parents about your dreams of marrying a prince. Granted, you’re pretty sure that almost every young girl at that age had some fantasy of marrying into a family of ranking and somehow magically inherit a whole kingdom. You remember how your mother would ask questions about how the prince looked, and your father acting as if you meeting a man in your dreams was the end of the world.

You remember laughter, being carried in the arms of your father while he told you that you weren’t allowed to marry any man until you were 30. That he only had 11 years left being the most important man in your life before your soulmate’s name would appear on your left arm.

You remember telling him he’ll always be important to you. And you remember how his smile dropped, looking at you with sadness etched across his face as he said, “I won’t be.”

You remember fresh dinners, warm sheets, and slow dances. You can still feel your mother’s fingers running through your hair as she soothed you to sleep, the raspiness of her voice after a tiring day but still trying to show you that she loved you.

She loved you.

She loved you.

At 13 years old, your parents sold you to Dreykov.

At 15 years old, you’re one of the most lethal Widows that the Red Room had raised.

Now, they’re memories you look back at with bitterness, with hate—as you deal with the life they left you with.

It’s what you think of while you’re staring at the cold soup served to you 15 minutes ago. It wasn’t by any means delicious—it was all vegetables and chicken thrown into a bland broth, that you’d think by now you would’ve gotten used to. But for the past 9 years you’ve been in this place you consider to be a prison, you feel as if you’ll never get to know anything beyond your training.

That’s nothing for else for you except for what the Red Room gave to you.

To become a killer. You are not a person, but a weapon.

The name written on your arm itches as you try to down the rest of your soup. It had started acting that way since the Red Room had welcomed HYDRA soldiers to train you all. And it had started to get worse when you were forced to train with the Winter Soldier. Since HYDRA had thought it best to put their asset to train with one of the Red Room’s best, and with Natasha gone, you were the next best thing they offered. Brutal, hard, and unrelenting—the Soldier didn’t even give you the chance to catch your breath no matter how exhausted you were.

But you couldn’t allow yourself to fail.

No.

You hated losing, but more than that, you hated the consequences that would come after.

It would start small: they gave you less rations of food, longer hours of training, and shorter hours of rest in a brightly lit room. Then the batons would come in, and so did the cuts and bruises on your knees from the two hours your ballet teacher spent beating them with the stick. Then it would be depriving you of a sustainable diet for a whole week—left only to feed off sweet potatoes and three cups of water. And then more, more, more, and worse.

You try your damned hardest to block, evade, kick, and get a hit in. But it’s obvious that from stamina alone, he was getting the upper hand. You were beyond exhausted, and you could already practically feel the ache of your bones when you wake up the next day.

And, just like it always was, your best just wasn’t enough.

That day ended with the Soldier fracturing your left arm—ironically, right where your mark was—and a tsk from your superior.

So, now you were stuck with bland soup and a lukewarm cup of water—your last of the day.

You think you hate the Soldier more for being the reason why you were almost beaten to death that day, than you did your parents for bringing you to the field in God-knows-where.

____

“So, let me get this right,” Rhodey spoke as the others sat around the couch. “You’ve already met your soulmate but didn’t do anything to let them know that they were?” he asks almost incredulously.

After all the visitors and guests of the party had left, Tony insisted that you all just hang-out before formally ending the party. Bonding is important for team dynamics, he had declared. Now, all of you had spent the past two hours and a half talking about anything and everything. Thor sharing his latest adventures with the Guardians, Clint affectionately complaining about Kate and Yelena ruining his sleep schedule, and a short-lived game of two-truths-one-lie that ended when you all realized Wanda had been reading your minds to figure out which was the lie. Cheating, but clever.

Now, after Tony had drunkenly announced to everyone that he had never seen your soulmate mark, and everyone eventually realizing that you had meticulously made an effort to never show the mark on your arm, the talk of the hour was you. You figured it was harmless to give them a few details here and there. When it first appeared, how it itched during a particularly rough training in the Red Room, how it was the only thing that tethered you to sanity.

Something that would eventually be yours after everything you had, had been taken away from you.

As long as they never figure out whose name it was etched on your skin.

“Never said that I’ve met him, Rhodey,” you answer.

“But you said that it itched! That’s what happens when you meet them!”

You shrugged. “Or maybe I was just itchy.”

“Bullshit!”

“Look, I don’t know why this is such a big deal for you all!” You confess. “I mean, some people don’t even end up with the soulmates given to them. This,” you point at the spot where your soulmate mark was, “is not an end-all-be-all. And my situation isn’t even half as bad as others.”

Sam Wilson, the cheeky little bastard, raised his hand. “I think it’s just interesting because the entire time you’ve been here, no one’s ever seen you in anything else but long sleeves and jackets. You’re obviously hiding something.”

“Or someone,” Tony chimes in.

“I’m just saying, it shouldn’t be a big deal,” you say.

Steve, who had been quiet for the most part of the conversation, speaks up. “If it’s not a big deal then why don’t you tell us?”

Tony nods and looks at you as if Steve had said something revolutionary to human knowledge. “Look, not even a little peek? Just show us the first letter and we’ll leave it alone!”

You know that their insistence in wanting to see your mark was all in good faith. You had never meant for it to be completely hidden; it was just a habit to wear longer sleeves and warm clothes after everything you had been through. It wasn’t even that you were consciously trying to hide it at first.

You just selfishly wanted to keep it to yourself because you were so used to having everything be taken away from you that you just want this for yourself.

No matter how unfair it was for your soulmate, you’ve already convinced yourself that he was better off not knowing who you were.

“You can all just use your imagination because I am going to bed,” you say as you rise from where you’re seated on the couch. Everyone groans and tells you to stay, but you laugh and wave them off, saying goodnight.

You’re about five steps away from the elevators when you hear footsteps follow after you. You turn your head around and almost trip when you see that it was Bucky. You furrow your brows when you realize he’s not with anyone else, which was usually the case. It was either Steve or Sam who always accompanied him.

You already dread the elevator ride up to your floor.

Not because you hate being in the same room as him, no. It’s one of the things you love most about being an Avenger—you’re almost always around him.

It’s just that you hate the feeling it gives you.

You give him a curt smile when he steps in the elevator to stand beside you. It’s quiet for the most part, just the faint whirring of the elevator rising and music being played being the only sounds that filled the small space. You’re facing your head to the wall on your left when Bucky clears his throat.

“You’re lucky, you know.” He says it so lowly that you think you’re imagining him talking to you. But he is, and he’s looking at you straight in the eyes already when you look at him.

God, you could drown in the shade of his eyes.

“What?”

Bucky shrugs, lips forming into a thin line. “You still have it.”

It takes you a moment to get what he’s saying, but you do. You still have the mark, you still have your soulmate’s name written on your skin, is what he means. You get it from how he brings out his metal hand from his pocket and turns his arm around. Staring at nothing but the plates of metal where soft skin would be.

Your heart breaks when you see the strained expression on his face. You allow the silence to speak for your empathy before you break it.

“I don’t show people because. . .because I figured it better for me to keep it to myself than be set up for disappointment again. I guess I’m doing it to protect them, too.”

Bucky mirrors the look in your eyes—grieving over something that you never had the chance to have. If anyone could understand your situation, it was him. Which was, arguably, the worst part of all of this.

When the elevator dings and the doors open, it was your cue to leave. You don’t want to spend another second in that space because you’re afraid that if he keeps looking at you like that, you’ll tell him who it was. You mutter a quick goodbye before dashing to your room.

When you’re in your room, you lean against the door and take a deep breath. You strip yourself of the clothing that felt increasingly constricting as Bucky’s face burned inside your head. You took to the shower, letting the water run down your body. Your eyes burning with the tears that threatened to fall.

It’s when you look down to your arm that they do.

Your lip trembles and your chest aches as your finger traces the lines.

James Buchanan Barnes.

____

A few days after the party, Fury comes to you all with a file in his hand—a mission, you’ve grown to learn. He gathers everyone up in a room to brief you all about what you would do. It was the usual, for the past six months you had been tracking the remaining HYDRA bases, some active and some abandoned.

Retrieve files, track down any clues that you could get, save civilians if need be—nothing extremely out of the ordinary.

Except for the fact that you knew the base as if it were your own home. Because, at one point, it was.

You see Natasha from the other side of the table, perusing the file as if it were the last thing she’d ever be able to read. From a few seats away, you hear Yelena cursing under her breath.

“I thought we destroyed it,” Yelena said. The fear in her voice makes your head spin.

At least, it doesn’t faze Fury. “You did. But only the Red Room Academy. Since Dreykov made a deal with HYDRA to train their Widows, it seems that they wanted to cover more ground. More bases, more Widows, so they lent this to the Red Room. Decided to make use of it.”

“But Dreykov’s dead,” Natasha says almost robotically. She’s looking at Fury with what you recognize to be a mix of resentment and skepticism. “Yelena and I killed him.”

“Never said you didn’t, Agent Romanoff. But this was a different base.” Fury turns to you and calls your name.

You realize that the entire time, since Fury had handed you the file, you had been quiet. Which wasn’t exactly unusual, you think you’re one of the people who usually kept to themselves. But it’s obvious that your lack of participation in the conversation wasn’t because of that.

“If I’m not mistaken this was your base?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah. It was, it’s. . .”

You’re thankful for Steve and his captain instincts for stepping in. “So what are we going to do?”

“Well, as far as we know it isn’t active. Hasn’t been since Agent Romanoff and Agent Belova destroyed the Red Room Academy. They all fled somewhere, hidden but they’re still there. But that’s not what you’re being sent for. There are files in this base that holds information on other Widows. Widows that you’ve been looking for, Yelena.”

“I thought we got everyone out of there.”

“You did. But the others are out there. And we need their files, or else they’re just another Jane Doe case.”

“Why didn’t they bring the files with them when they left?”

You answer for Fury.  “Because they know we’ll come back for them.”

“So, what, we’re walking into a trap?”

“I don’t think we are,” Natasha says. “The Red Room was smart enough to keep all the Widows’ information in a database. The goal here isn’t to make sure we’re the only ones who have those files.”

“We’re getting those files because we want to know who we’re searching for,” you say as you stand from your seat.

You don’t stay for when Fury’s telling who’s needed on the mission. You already know from the way Fury kept glancing at you as he spoke that you would sooner or later be on that jet. You at least save him from the task of having to show some type of regret that he was asking you to be on the mission.  

You’re on your way to the weapons room when you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. You take it out to see it’s only Tony letting you know you need to be in the jet in 45 minutes.

As you place your usual weapons of choice in your suit, you hear the sliding door open. From the faint footsteps, you already know that it’s Yelena. Years of being told to tread on your feet lightly to not be heard. Years of being in that damned Red Room and the lessons you were taught never leaving your body no matter how hard you tried.

She’s beside you in a second, and you can tell that she’s trying to choose what words to say.

You’re about to tell her that the other Widows disappearing wasn’t her fault, but the both of you speak at the same time.

“It’s not your fault that they’re out there—”

“—Barnes is coming with us.”

Oh.

That you weren’t exactly expecting. But it makes sense, previous HYDRA soldier and Red Room trainer coming with you on the mission. You feel like an idiot for missing that.

The troubled countenance Yelena wore on her face was noticeable gone when you look at her. It makes you groan when you see her cheeky, teasing attitude back. You already know this is something she won’t let go for the entirety of the mission.

“You know, he looked pretty concerned while Fury was briefing us.” Her voice was playfully taunting.

“I’m sure. He trained us.”

“Don’t act coy, now, zolotse. He offered to be part of the mission.”

“What?”

Now, that you totally weren’t expecting to happen.

Yelena’s smirk grows. “Seems like your soulmate doesn’t need a mark to know it’s you.”

“Stop it, Yelena.” You say it lightly, but the weight behind your words is there.

Yelena’s playfulness cracks when she sees how you’re pained you look talking about it. “What are you so afraid of that it’s stopping you?”

You’re able to let only a sigh out before you spoke. Which, you were so hell-bent on never saying out loud. Because if you did, then it would be heard. And it would turn real. But you don’t think you can let yourself be the only one holding it back.

And this was Yelena, your sister and your family.

“Because I don’t want to let him live with the fact that his soulmate would always be tied to that part of him that he’s been trying so hard to make amends with. You know this, Yelena.”

“I do, but don’t you think it’s unfair to him that you’re making this decision.”

“I know it is. But I also know it’s gonna hurt him more knowing it’s me.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“Yelena, just—”

“I won’t leave this alone, zolotse. If only you can see beyond this guilt that you don’t even have to carry, then you’ll see that how he cares about you will trump over any possible outcome that you’ve sabotaged yourself with. You can’t stop him from finding out.”

“I know,” you say defeatedly.

Thankfully, Yelena leaves the conversation at that. She wraps her arms around your shoulders tightly, and you instinctively burrow your head in the crook of her neck. It reminds you of when she first found you. When she broke you free from the chemical subjugations and mind control, and for the first time in ten years you felt afraid. But she was there.

She always would be.

____

Despite Fury telling you that the base was inactive, you know enough not to trust that piece of information fully. It wasn’t often that he was wrong, but you’re familiar with how HYDRA and the Red Room worked that there would always be something to catch you off-guard.

And just like always, you were right.

But it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle. Cleverly placed traps, some agents that you figured were stationed to watch over the base and the files of missing Widows stashed somewhere inside.

You just hated that wherever you went, Bucky would follow you too.

At first, you’re appreciative, he tells you to look out for a hit that would’ve compromised you if it weren’t for his warning. He even doesn’t hesitate to pick you up from when you fell after a particularly nasty kick to the chest.

But you realize that he hasn’t left your side since stepping foot out of the quinjet.

You gave it some doubt, thinking that perhaps he was ordered by Steve to watch over you in case any HYDRA agent tried to hurt you, or Sam’s older brother tendencies stepping in and telling his friend to make sure you’re home from this mission without a scratch on you. But he lets you take the lead, follows wherever you go, protects you, and even once asked if you were okay when you reached the training room.

The forced nod you give him is enough to keep him quiet for the rest of the time you search for the room where you’re sure they kept the files. You reach a familiar corridor, one where you recall new recruits—you laugh at the word, because really, the right word was victims—would be kept before their first day of training. Your hands reach for the doorknob, and you try your hardest to ignore the obvious thumps of your heart that reaches your eyes when you feel Bucky’s warm hand reach behind you.

The second the door opens, your raise the gun in your hands as you scan the room for any possible threat. Bucky does the same. When you clear the room and both deem is safe, you place your gun down and rush to the near-empty shelf in the corner of the room.

You reach for the stack of brown manila folders, covered in cobwebs and dust, place it on the metal table in the center of the room, and you feel your heart constricting when you see pictures of familiar faces on each of them. Their names are all-too familiar to you, some you would seek out in the middle of the night after a rough session, some you never got to see again after a mission.

Bucky is behind you while you’re looking at the folders, searching the other shelves for any similar ones. He sees a few, not as much as the one you found, but opens some of them anyway. He sees some faces he vaguely remembers, some students he used to train while under the control of HYDRA. He briefly wonders if they’ve made it out like him.

When he opens another folder, his breath gets stuck in his throat when he sees it’s yours. He’s about to tell you what he’s found, but finds that there’s no voice in him as he reads the rest of what’s written about you.

At first it’s details he already knows about you, eye color, hair color, name. But then it’s details about your parents, when you were first brought to the Red Room, your progress as a Widow, and your fighting techniques. Then he reads about your time training with the Winter Soldier, how despite your evident progress as a fighter, you would always lose him. He makes a mental note to store that information later and find a way to apologize to you.

Then his eyes reach the bottom of the page, and he swears he feels his heart drop to his stomach when he reads:

SOULMATE MARK: JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES.

His eyes are stuck on that line. Reading and reading it again as if magically the information written on the paper was wrong and he was imagining it. But it’s there, and it wasn’t changing.

Then he thinks about the multiple times he’s caught you staring, and him always shrugging it off as curiosity or shyness despite Sam’s insistence that no girl looks at anyone like that just because. And then he remembers how your right hand always scratches at your left arm when he’s around. And how every time he’s close to you or even gets the chance to talk to you, his heart feels just about ready to burst whenever you look at him.

There were the signs all along, signs that he never even realized he had been trying to ignore for the longest time because. . . well, he never thought that after everything he had done, he was worthy of finding his soulmate.

That, and because falling of that train that day had taken everything from him, his soulmate mark along with it.

“Bucky?” Your voice snaps him out of his trance. His hands close the folders as fast as he could, the sound of it closing shocking the both of you with his strength. You don’t let it bother you though, something he’s realized you’ve always done whenever he showed any sort of ability he got from the serum. Even when it was close to the same strength that the Winter Soldier had.

You give him a small smile, mistaking his tense demeanor from being bothered about the missing Widows, and not the fact that he knows. “We need to go.”

All you get from him is a small ‘okay’ and you’re on your way back to the quinjet. It doesn’t escape you that he’s quiet, which you wouldn’t mind any other day, but there’s a certain aura around him that makes you think that in those brief few minutes you two spent retrieving the files, he’s seen something he shouldn’t have.

————

It’s been weeks, and it’s killing you how Bucky hasn’t once showed himself to you or stayed long enough in the same room for you to greet him. You figure it’s what you wanted—makes it easier for you to hide the fact that you’re clearly affected by him. It also makes the fact that you’re hiding such a huge secret from him an easier task to do because you’re not feeling compelled to spill everything to him after seeing how bothered he looked during that flight back to the tower.

You’re trying not to let it get to you, you tell yourself that it’s okay. That’s it’s for the best that you stay out of his way.

But you miss him.

And it’s clear that you’re not the only one who sees it.

“Just go talk to him,” Sam says definitively. He’s been trying to get you to talk to Bucky for the past week, like it’s easy for you to do. Which you don’t exactly fault him for.

“Or maybe he’s ignoring me for a reason.”

“Which is why you should go talk to him if he does.”

You groan and lay your head in your hands. You’ve been battling with yourself for the last hour thinking if it would just be better to tell Sam the reason why you’re finding it so difficult.

“You’re into him, aren’t you?”

You’re looking at him as if he’d caught you doing something wrong. And it doesn’t help that your lack of an answer is taken as confirmation.

“You are! Aha! I knew it!”

“Oh my God, Sam, shut up! I never said anything!”

“You don’t have to, sugar. No words are needed when your eyes speak for themselves.”

“You’re annoyingly poetic when you can be.”

Sam laughs. “Look, all I’m saying is, maybe you’re not the only one who’s bothered about the distance.”

You want to dismiss the blush that’s warming your cheeks at the thought. Your leg is bouncing up and down while you’re weighing your decisions if it’s a good idea to tell Sam or not. Though you love Natasha and Yelena with your whole being and trust them with your life, it’s still difficult to keep the fact that Bucky Barnes, of all people, was the one person you were meant to end up with.

That the person you’d think about during those years in the Red Room, was the same man who trained with you until your body was screaming. But you learned to forgive him, learned to accept that it was a thing of the past. Because, despite how many times you were subjected to the consequences of losing to him, he was the one thing that kept you going.

Even just the mere thought of him was enough for you to forget the cruelty you were forced to live with your entire life.

You were invested even before you had met James—Bucky.

“He’s my soulmate,” you say lowly. Just quiet enough for Sam to hear, or not if he hadn’t been paying attention to you. But he caught it.

And he’s completely in shock when he processes it.

“Bucky is your soulmate?!”

“I just told you that, didn’t I?”

“Wait—but that. . . you met him while you were in the Red Room!”

“First time it itched was when they made us train together.”

“Does he know?”

“No.”

Sam is quiet for a few seconds. “Will you tell him?”

“I’ve thought about it. I mean . . . I can’t keep something this big hidden forever but . . . I always figured it was better to hide it. That way he’s saved from the fact that his soulmate is someone connected to his past.”

“You don’t know that.”

“And you don’t either, Sam. Because you weren’t there. You didn’t see how intense the Soldier could get. He didn’t hold back. And I know for a fact that some part of Bucky carries guilt over that. And—”

“—and if you tell him, he’ll blame himself for what happened.” Sam quickly gets your point and sighs. The complexity of the entire situation getting to him too.

“Exactly, Sam.”

“And you’re sure he doesn’t know?”

“Well. . .”

The question makes you think: does he? You’re almost sure that he doesn’t know, but after the mission, he had made it a point to not even cross paths with you. You tried to think of any other reason for it. Maybe you did something during that mission that turned him off. Maybe he was disappointed in you for not getting the other Widows when you were saved. Maybe he was tired of being nice with you. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

But you think really hard. Does he know? He wouldn’t be ignoring you so determinedly if he didn’t know. But did he?

“Talk to him.”

Natasha’s voice echoes from where she’s stood. She’s walking down the steps and to the couch where you’re seated with Sam. Her hand finds itself soothing your hair as she talks.

“It’s hurting the both of you, both this distance and your secret. Just talk to him.”

“It’s a big risk, Nat.”

“We’ve lived our whole lives in service for the people who never cared about us. This job asks a lot from us to risk everything the mere second we agreed to do it. What’s so different about this?”

You say the thing you’ve always been scared of admitting.

“Because if this ends up being the wrong thing, then it’ll just be another case of thinking I can have something for myself and end up disappointed.”

Nat’s quiet for a few moments, Sam too. You can tell by how they looked at each other that they don’t agree with you, that this couldn’t ever be the wrong thing. But they can’t fault you for thinking that way when it was all you ever knew.

“I think,” Sam says, pausing for a few seconds to collect his thoughts before continuing, “you can’t let this be the only thing for you. I understand you’re afraid, and I understand even more than I’ll never get just how difficult it’s been for you. But you shouldn’t deprive yourself of something that can be and will be good just because you’re afraid it’ll go wrong.”

“You shouldn’t hold yourself back from something good just because you’ve been so used to bad things.” Natasha continues for him.

You know they’re right, and it makes you even more frustrated because it’s true. You’ve been holding yourself back from a good thing because you’re so afraid it’ll be taken away again, that it’ll end up being a classic disappointment for you.

But somehow, despite your tumultuous life and the ceaseless warfare that you were somehow always faced with, Bucky was always there. Whether or not he was himself, or he was the Soldier—Bucky Barnes had been a constant in your life that you’re so sure he’s the one thing that, whatever evil force the world has in store, would never be able to be taken from you. And despite the fact that you’ve been trying your damned best to keep him at an arm’s length, he would always seem to gravitate towards you. Always wanting to talk to you, wishing to get to know you, trying to get a laugh out of you.

Despite, despite, despite it all—he was there.

You want to hit yourself being so stupid.

————

You don’t know where you got the sudden burst of confidence from—probably going so far as to claim you’ve actually deluded yourself into making this decision—but right now, you’re stood in the middle of Bucky’s room.

He seated on the foot of his bed, obviously bothered by something from the way he doesn’t even show any ounce of surprise that you knocked on his door. And he’s quiet which isn’t exactly far off from how he is usually, but it’s unsettling something in you.

“Um,” you muster out to try and lessen the awkwardness, “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yeah.”

“Mhm.”

Another beat of silence.

You think that despite surviving the Red Room and fighting other supervillains that the job of being an Avenger came with, this was the most nervous you’ve ever been.

“I—uh—just wanted to see how you were doing.”

“I’m fine.”

“That’s . . . good.”

God, you hate that you’re so bad at this.

You can hack into the government’s database and get past the hundreds of security passes with just a breeze, you can fight off 50 armed men in fifteen minutes with just two knives, you know thirty years’ worth of  classified S.H.I.E.L.D. information, you’ve defeated aliens, monsters, and a whole evil empire for Christ’s sake, but you can’t for the life of you keep up a conversation with James “Bucky” Barnes.

The absurdity of the situation makes you want to laugh.

And the tension makes you feel like it’ll kill you before an evil doctor does, you hastily say a goodbye and turn to leave his room.

But Bucky doesn’t let you. No, he doesn’t even give you the chance to get three steps in before he’s charging at the door and blocking your path.

If it were any other situation, you’d admire the way his chest is heaving and how the shirt tightens around his upper body.

“You’re not leaving.” He says it like it’s an order.

Which you don’t mind if it was. You think if he told you to jump from his window after this you would do it in a heartbeat.

“Why did you come here?”

“I. . . don’t know.”

“You do. I know you do or else you wouldn’t be here.”

You’re quiet again, but not because you’re at a loss for words. You’ve gone through this moment multiple times in your head ever since you realized that Bucky Barnes was the same man who fought with you when your soulmate mark itched. It’s because you’re so enamored by him—his face, his physique, his scent, him—that you can’t focus on anything else.

It’s childish.

But Bucky mistakes your silence as something else, and you see it in the way his face contorts when seconds pass and you haven’t said anything.

“Are you scared of me?”

This prompts you to speak, and to snap out of your stupor because you can ogle Bucky another time. “What? No! Why would you—”

“Then why haven’t you said anything about the fact that the mark on your arm has my name written on it?”

It’s something you expected already, him knowing. You knew at one point he would know about it, whether by your account or from something else. But it doesn’t make the realization any less shocking.

“Why didn’t you tell me about how I was the reason you were treated so badly and had to . . . to face harsh reprimanding because of me? Are you that afraid of me? Is that why you’ve always seemed so . . . far?”

Again, you expected this. You knew he would blame himself the second he discovered that you were once at the receiving end of the Winter Soldier’s sheer strength. And even worse that the pain your body had to deal with didn’t end at that.

But seeing how defeated Bucky looked, it broke your heart. Not even angry at the fact that you hid it from him, but more about the fact that he didn’t remember, that he couldn’t control it.

“No, no. That’s not it, Bucky,” you try to reason with him, “it’s really not anything you did. I just—I was selfish, okay? I didn’t think it was something you needed to know because I didn’t want you to beat yourself up for something that you had no control over. And . . . I never told you because I selfishly thought it was better to keep this from you because I’m afraid. Notofyouofcourse! I just . . .”

You take a deep breath in before you decide that it’s time to just let it out.

“God, for the longest time I’ve spent my entire life getting used to things not being mine or being taken away from me. My family, my life, my autonomy, my self—but your name was the one thing I had for myself. They couldn’t take you away from me, couldn’t even make me try to forget you if they tried. The thought of you, the thought of finally meeting you when I got out of that life was the one thing that kept me here. I knew I was already in it deep before I even met you. But then I did, and I realized that . . . if you knew about it, then you’d spend the rest of your life being reminded about that part of you you’ve worked so hard to make amends with. And I couldn’t do that to you. I don’t want to be a constant reminder of that pain in your life.”

The entire time you speak, Bucky doesn’t take his eyes off of you. He’s less angry at himself and more sympathetic now as you go on. He thinks about the fact that you had to keep this secret for so long because you weren’t afraid of him, but rather you were afraid of what it could mean for him. The entire time, you were doing it to look out for him.

And he hates that you made that decision for yourself. But he understands you. If he were in your position, he’s sure he would do the same.

There’s a part of him that wants to tell you that he’s angry at the fact that you kept something so big from him. He wants to shout at you for hiding the fact that he’s yours, when he’s spent so long thinking if the reason why you always seemed to keep distance from him was because you hated him for something he could’ve done. He wants to tell you that he’s frustrated at you, too.

But he can’t.

Because you just look so beautiful in front of him right now. You’re pouring your heart out, spilling a secret you’ve withheld for more than you whole life, and Bucky thinks that you’ve never looked more beautiful than this moment.

He loves the sound of your voice too much to drown it out with his own. Realizes that he loves how your hands try to look for something to anchor yourself to. Observes that you only stop talking to take a breath in, but never stopping to let him speak.

No matter how many times he’s opened his mouth, you don’t let him say a word.

Which he wouldn’t mind, but he’s held himself back from you for so long.

Long before you confessed this secret, long before he’d had this crush on you. It embarrasses him to accept the fact, but the second he set his eyes on you he’d already been hooked.

And it’s what drives him to decide not to wait for you to stop speaking when his hands grab the side of your head, brings it close to his, until you finally process how his hot breath hits your lips.

And he doesn’t wait any longer to kiss you.

He kisses you like it’s the one thing he was made to do—slowly, deliberately, and deeply. Like he had been a man starved (which, he probably was) from this affection. He kisses you like it comes as natural to him as breathing, like you’re the thing tethering him to reality before he falls deeper into the depths of how much he loves you.

He realizes he loves you, and he doesn’t shy away from showing it.

And the two of you allow yourself to drown in it.

You realize it had always been a futile effort to keep him away from you. The two of you were always meant to find your way back to each other. Like you were both made from the same star that burst eons ago, fated to find each other again like stardust made to meet and mold as one, to shine as if it had never burst and never left, and to burn. Again and again and again.

It's too soon to tell him you love him, but you think you’ll tell him after this.

[armandology]

fuuuuck i just realized that the future idealized version of myself cant exist without current me being the catalyst for change and doing hard things. has anybody heard about this

[ballard96]

[envymoony]

God Loves You, But Not Enough to Save You

Bucky x Reader Oneshot

by envymoony (AO3 & tumblr)

summary: Years ago, your father and HYDRA experimented on you to give you the ability to heal. Now, when Bucky takes your worry the wrong way and puts back up the walls you worked so tirelessly trying to break down, it makes you realize one thing: Bucky thinks being with you is a burden because he’s afraid you’re only with him to fix him. But when you're badly hurt on a mission, he's left wondering if he can make up for how he hurt you, or if that's how things will always be.

warnings: angst, referenced abuse, graphic depictions of violence

In your defense, you really hadn’t meant to air out Bucky’s business during the mission orientation. You had only meant to express you worry for his safety—given that his nightmares had worsened and his sleeping hours significantly decreased.

You knew this was going to be an exhaustive mission; that it wasn’t going to be as simple as the previous reconnaissance missions he had been assigned to, or the get-in quick-and-get-out-quicker ones that the team had been doing a lot of recently.

No.

Though it was projected to be, at most, a six-hour long mission, it required all hands-on deck. The instructions Fury gave were clear: save hostages, capture possible intelligence agents, and destroy any remnants of HYDRA. Which, of course, on paper sounded pretty easy.

But these were the Avengers, for God’s sake. When was anything ever “pretty easy”?

Not that you doubted his abilities in being a large part of the mission’s success—you knew all too well, perhaps even the most out of all his teammates, that he could be sent in alone and still do a damn good job. And when it was announced that it would be him, Sam, Steve, Natasha, Tony, and Clint on the mission, you didn’t need to question the mission’s success rate. It was in good hands, truly.

But you just couldn’t help it. You had a feeling something would go wrong.

Something always did.

Bucky was the love of your life—your saving grace from your earlier years of suffering under the hands of your father and the very same organization that abused him too. And it didn’t go unnoticed by you that the facility the mission was set in was the very same facility that made you. The same facility where the Winder Soldier taught you calculated moves of defense and offense, never stopping until a superior came in and decided that the battered and bloodied parts of your body were too much to look at.

The very same facility where your father had kept you for the first 12 years of your life training you to be the best damn agent and fighter they had ever seen. Only to decide that being good at combat wasn’t enough. He needed you to be better, you just had to be greater, always making it clear that bringing you to HYDRA and training you as one of their soldiers wouldn’t suffice. It wasn’t exactly a surprise to you when you became the subject of numerous experimentations, hundreds of vials with different colored serums being injected into every part of your body.

You bore the brunt of their curiosity and desire for the greatest. And you dealt with it for 8 years.

It took so much out of you. They had used your body tirelessly for their experiments, never allowing you a moment of rest nor a moment to yourself. You had realized then that your body would never be yours anymore. And it most certainly wasn’t you, it was just a thing for them to insert whatever kind of formula they had cooked up and to test, test, test.

Your father wanted to create a healer—thought it was something HYDRA needed to ensure that their numbers stayed and continued growing, so that their precious soldat could heal quicker despite the serum already giving him that ability.

But this was HYDRA, nothing would ever be enough for them. And as a test to see if the serum worked, they would unfailingly always make sure that there was something wrong with him.

Because, as your father put it, he was their favorite test subject.

And it disgusted you. It hurt you.

A scratch, a broken bone, a bruise, a cut—you tried to remember a time during those years where his body was free of any such wound. You were thankful, at least, that the super-soldier serum allowed him to heal faster than the average person and give him a higher pain tolerance. Though, you wondered if he was programmed to not show any kind of reaction to their abuse. Only after going through thousands of revisions and test runs, and the unimaginable baggage of pain his body had to endure, were you able to heal something just as quickly as they gave it.

You were a little foolish to think it was the end, that that was all that they wanted out of you and soldat. No, they wanted to see if you could heal yourself.

It wasn’t part of the plan, all HYDRA wanted was someone who could heal them, not someone who could heal themselves. But they figured that if you were able to heal yourself, then they wouldn’t have to worry about you anymore.

That same day, they planted a bullet in your hip.

You remember crying and shouting for anyone to help you. You never got the same serum Bucky got. Your body couldn’t protect itself, and, as they discovered, it couldn’t heal itself.

Shame, your father said, you can save anyone in this universe except yourself.

The scar on your hip ached as you read through the file. It was never confirmed if your father died, nor did the men who abused your body to the point of complete exhaustion. But something inside you was sure that this was your father’s doing—the missing people, the hostages, the facility still being used.

So, God forbid, you show a little anxiety over the fact that your boyfriend would enter the same place he was constantly beat up in. You knew that the place haunted him, that when he has one of his night terrors, that it would be one of the places he feels suffocated in.

But, really, you never meant to make it seem as if he wasn’t fit for the mission.

All you wanted was to ask if it he was okay.

“Buck, you haven’t been getting enough rest, are you sure you can handle this?”

You realize as soon as the question leaves your mouth that you made a mistake—Bucky’s betrayed expression only cementing the fact. He never liked his sleeping habits being aired out, let alone the people he works with, and you can already feel the guilt eating up at you for betraying his trust.

Thankfully, it didn’t compromise his involvement in the mission in any particular way. You think Bucky would’ve broken up with you then and there if that had actually happened. But it didn’t ease the anxious pit in your stomach when he stomped his way to his bedroom after the meeting was adjourned, not bothering to wait for you nor even spare a look at you.

You let out a breath.

“It’s okay, kid,” you hear Tony say. “Go talk to him.”

You don’t say anything else but manage to give him a smile before leaving and following to where Bucky was.

The view of him on the bed didn’t exactly unsettle you. It was the fact that he was eerily quiet, even as you padded your way to him. You figured he needs some space, so you don’t sit down next to him, but stand near enough where you can read his face.

You had learned to read every line and crease throughout your time together back in HYDRA. It always told you more than anything he could say, and it proved to still be useful now. While he’s quiet, his face speaks more words than you’ll ever know.

“Why did you have to say that,” Bucky says in a low whisper. You know it wasn’t an actual question for you to answer. It was more of him still trying to wrap his head around what you did.

Still, you wanted to explain.

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” you say first, “I’m just worried about you. I know you haven’t been sleeping, and I’m scared that this mission will only make it worse.”

“And you know that because?” His tone is accusatory now, in partial disbelief that you would even say that because you know him. Better than anyone. Better than Steve, who only knew the version of him before the Winter Soldier. But you, you know him. And that’s arguably what hurt him most.

Because he trusted you enough to trust him.

He continues speaking when you don’t offer any response. “You—it wasn’t necessary to bring that up. You could’ve just asked me after the meeting or, hell, not ask me at all! I don’t need you to look out for me, okay? I can do that myself.”

“I just don’t want your wellbeing to be compromised, Buck, I know how hard it was for you in that place—”

His voice is dangerously low when he says, “Just because we spent a long time together in that facility doesn’t mean you know every single thing I feel about that place.”

You’re taken aback by this. You never tried to make it seem as if you knew more about how he felt during those times more than he did, but you knew enough. From your first time meeting outside of HYDRA and throughout his recovery, he always made it a point to tell you how your presence helped ease the weight he carried just by being soldat. That all he knew in that place was pain, pain, pain, and torture.

Until you.

“I—I never wanted to make it seem as if I know more about what you feel. All I wanted was to make sure you were okay.”

Bucky scoffs this time, as if the idea of you caring about his safety was an incredulous idea. You almost feel insulted, but you know how he much he hates feeling like a burden. And maybe he feels as if you see him as just that—a burden to the mission. So he’s putting up his walls that you worked so hard to dismantle.

You don’t blame, but you just wish he could see that you don’t mean anything else other than wanting him safe.

“I don’t need you to make sure of that.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt, Bu—”

“No!” He’s never raised his voice at you before, so your heart falls to your feet when you hear him shout and look at you with such disdain, hurt, and betrayal all at once. “Don’t tell me you just want to keep me safe because I don’t need you to do that! I’m perfectly capable of deciding what I can or can’t handle. This is one of them.”

He’s seething with. . .anger? You can’t quite place where he’s at right now, but you stay quiet, knowing that speaking will only fuel him more.

But it’s the words that spill out of his mouth that hurt you more than him shouting.

“I get that your father experimented on you and gave you the ability to heal people, but I don’t need you to try and fix me every single fucking time I’m struggling. I’m not some fucking project for you to use your abilities on.”

Your face falls at his statement.

Because he knows that, for the longest time, you had tried to convince yourself that your powers were good. That something good could come out of the years of torture and abuse your body went through. And that good was being able to help. Help heal a nasty stab wound on Natasha’s thigh, a large bruise on Sam’s cheekbone from his helmet digging into his skin, Clint’s bullet graze, or a laceration from a poisoned dagger on Peter’s bicep.

You hid your abilities for years because it did nothing but remind you that you could save just about anyone, except yourself. But seeing the shock and amazed expressions on people’s faces as your hands start to glow and do its magic never failed to make you smile.

And so you found solace working with Doctor Cho in the MedBay, choosing to forget your training because that never gave anything back to you. But this did. And you damn well did a good job at it.

And Bucky’s words hurt. Not just because it made you realize he thinks you’re only trying to heal him because you see him as a project, but that he never saw the genuine care you held for him, the love you felt.

But he continues talking, never giving you a chance to speak.

“It’s honestly so exhausting having you around me because all I can think about is you’re doing it just to fix me. You may have healed my wounds, but I don’t need you to act like I need you to watch every fucking move I make! You may be a healer but I sure as hell don’t feel fixed when you’re around because all you are is a reminder that there’s always something wrong with me.”

You’re completely frozen at this point. Bucky’s pacing around the room as he continues. You know how bad his words can get when he’s upset. You just. . . never expected it to turn out like this. He’s never even offered the grace to let you speak and clear your intentions. Hell, to even apologize properly.

You were willing to apologize and let him stir in his emotions before coming back to you and talking it out—because that how you two always were. You talked it out. But Bucky seemed to never run out of things to say about how much of a baggage it was to have you around. Which, you never even thought about. Because he particularly never said anything about it, nor hinted that that’s how he actually felt about you.

But it only makes one thing clear to you: that Bucky thinks being with you is a burden because he’s afraid you’re only with him to fix him.

Which hurts you.

Because you love him.

It’s only when Bucky realizes that you’re still and so, so quiet that he stops speaking. When he turns to look at you, it takes a moment for him to drink in the blankness on your face. You were always so expressive, it’s what he loved about you. It was never difficult for him to decipher your mood, your thoughts.

But the lack of anything on your face made his blood go cold. He knows he’d gone back to his self-sabotaging defense mechanism, but he was upset. Upset at thinking that you would just openly bring up how he hasn’t been sleeping well. Upset thinking about you always protecting him. Upset about the fact that you were so good to him, and yet he hadn’t ever given you anything back.

Now, seeing how you’re struggling to even get anything out of your mouth, he wishes he hadn’t doubled down and hurt you.

He whispers your name and you flinch.

“I. . .I should go. If—if that’s how you feel, I think it’s better to just. . .for me to leave.”

It’s Bucky now who doesn’t get the chance to speak, when you all but run for the door without saying anything else.

He wants to run after you, to apologize and tell you that wasn’t how he actually felt. But he doesn’t.

You don’t know which is worse.

———

The day of the mission arrives, and you’ve spent the last few hours locked up in the MedBay. You tried to find things to do to kill time—organizing the new supply of bandages and suture kits, filling up the new organizers with different vials and bottles, fixing the misplaced equipment the previous users have used. Basically, finding anything you could do that would distract you and keep you away from Bucky.

While you’re organizing the unopened syringes, medical scissors, and more bandages in the drawers, you hear a knock on the glass door, the familiar rhythm indicating that it was Tony. You don’t bother turning around to greet him.

Besides, you’re not in the mood to talk to any one in particular.

“What do you want, Stark?”

“Is that sadness I hear in your tone because I’m leaving or because you Sargeant boyfriend will be gone for a few hours?”

You appreciate his attempt at lightening the mood, but the mention of Bucky just makes your heart ache. Before you know it, the bandage slips from your hands, and you whisper a curse.

“Hit a nerve there, didn’t I, kid?”

“You could say that.”

Tony chuckles. “Figured. Barnes has been moping for the past 30 minutes we’ve been in the jet.”

The mention of time makes you look at the wall. It makes you question why Tony was still here. Or even the jet.

They were supposed to leave 30 minutes ago.

“Why—”

“—are we still here? That’s exactly why I came to you. Let me make this quick because we need to leave immediately.”

Tony’s voice is serious as he walks to stand next to you. He crouches to grab the fallen bandage and hands it to you. You mutter a thanks to him.

“We need you on the mission.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “But Fury didn’t say anything about needing to heal anyone?”

“Not as a healer. As an agent. We need you on the field.”

The beat of your heart quickens—in anxiety, in surprise, you’re not quite sure what to make of it. But you sure as hell wasn’t expecting Tony’s words.

“Tony, I’ve never been on the field.”

“You were a spectacular fighter back then from what Barnes told us.”

“Whatever it is that he said, I haven’t been fighting for a while.”

“Now, that’s bullshit because I know for a fact that you’ve sparred with Nat, Rogers, Thor,—hell, even Peter! And in all of them, you’ve always won them. The footages don’t lie. The files, too.”

“Tony. . .”

“Between you and I, you’re the only person who knows this place and how the people there work better than anyone. Even Barnes.”

“Look, I. . .I’m not opposed to it. But this mission, it’s asking me to go back to the place where I was tortured. As much as I want revenge, it’s going to be a lot.”

“I know. But. . .” Tony sounds much more empathetic and even desperate when he says, “Kid, we need you. Fury sent me here to bring you on the mission. And I wouldn’t be here asking you to join if I think we would be fine without you. But I know we won’t.”

You know Tony’s not the type to give up easily, and more than that, he’s definitely not the type to beg someone to join a mission unless he deems it absolutely necessary. Though it was true, you were an excellent fighter and an even better agent, you weren’t sure if you were even ready to go back there. But the look on your friend’s face is enough for you to say. . .

“Okay.”

Tony’s excitement puts a smile on your face. “Come on, Florence Nightingale! Suit up and be at the jet by ten.”

It doesn’t take you long to suit up and grab whatever weapon you needed before meeting Tony by the jet. Everyone looks at the reason why it took a while for Tony to return. Bucky’s eyebrows furrow seeing you in a suit. The last time he recalled, healers didn’t need to wear a suit and carry any kind of gear on missions.

The first to question your presence in the mission was Natasha, who asks Tony if Fury told him to bring me just in case of any casualties.

“She’s gonna be with us on the field.” Tony says so casually and firmly that Bucky almost misses it.

He doesn’t, though. And he’s sure he’s losing his mind when he sees how non-chalant Tony was being about you and this mission. “What the hell are you talking about, Stark?”

“Alright, tone down, Snowman. I’m under orders by Fury to bring her with us, ‘kay?”

Steve is the next to speak, speaking to you directly. “You sure about this? We’re going to the base where your father kept you.”

“This is bigger than me, Steve. They’ve got people imprisoned there, only Lord knows what they’re doing or what they plan on doing to them. And I’m not going to wait until something bad happens for something to be done about it.”

That seemed to be enough for Steve, who smiled at you appreciatively. Natasha hummed in agreement, Sam and Clint nodding their heads.

It was only Bucky who had something to say.

“You’ve never been on a mission before, yet you’re willing to go on this one? What makes you think you’re ready for this?”

Bucky meant to say it in a way that expressed his worry for your safety being compromised. Because, God, this was basically asking you to relive your most traumatic memories out of the blue. And you’ve never been on the field in the mission before, the farthest you’ve gotten was by the door of the quinjet, waiting for everyone to come back so you could heal the damages done on their bodies.

Your eyes squint at him. He’s basically insulted your skills in combat, whereas you never implied anything about you doubting his abilities. He had twisted your words into something you never even meant, yet here he was acting as if you weren’t an agent too.

“I’ve been consistent in hand-to-hand combat and sparring sessions. And if you’ve already forgotten, before I was given these abilities, I was an agent. You would know that because you trained me, Barnes.”

Not calling him Bucky was a low blow, but the shock on his face gave you some sense of satisfaction.

“I don’t—”

“Enough of this,” Natasha speaks up. “We need to go and you heard Tony, it was under Fury’s orders that she joins us. Sit down and buckle up, we’re leaving.”

Bucky only huffs in defeat. His eyes move to you, and he wishes that the tension between you would dissolve at least for a little bit. He wants you to sit next to him, he needs to be beside you because he can’t shake the feeling that Fury was wrong about bringing you here. You weren’t safe from whatever could be thrown at you.

But you were sat on the farthest seat away from him, doing everything you could to keep your look on the floor. He wants to go to you and tell you he’ll protect you, like how you’ve always done for him before and now.

After this, Bucky thinks, after this I’ll apologize and make it up to you.

———

You don’t know how you got here, but the second the quinjet landed and the doors opened, it was almost as if HYDRA had been expecting your visit. There were agents from left and right sprinting and shooting at your direction, but you were quicker and skilled, so you avoided the bullets and knives being thrown your way. In the first two minutes of being on the field you have already knocked down five HYDRA agents, which Tony said would definitely be talk of the compound for the next week, at minimum.

You were paired with Sam, tasked to take out as much agents as you could on your way to save the hostages. You hadn’t worked with Sam before, but soon enough the both of you realized that you had amazing chemistry when it came to missions. Not needing many words to communicate your next moves, effortlessly taking out any obstacle in your way without much effort.

But, for the most part, you blacked out. It felt as if you weren’t in control of your body, it was moving on its own accord. Knowing which spot hurt the most, which ones weakened your opponent, where to immobilize them, and how to hurt them just enough to keep them down. You were thankful for that, at least.

Your father training you to desensitize yourself from combat turned out to be useful. Because instead of overthinking and focusing too much on where and how to hit, you worked on muscle memory and pure anger.

These people weren’t innocent, they were compliant in the abuse of the poor hostages, who you later on found to be cooped up in a small cell.

10 battered bodies—tattered clothes, malnourished, and scared.

A complete reflection of how you were before.

You couldn’t stop the anger from growing into pure, utter rage at that point. Tony’s instructions, Sam’s attempts at assuaging you, and Bucky’s begging for you to please listen, don’t do anything, sweetheart all falling into deaf ears.

It irked you that they never stopped.

That they never seemed to get the concept of stopping, that one person to torture wasn’t enough.

All you remember was hearing Sam’s voice, telling you that you still had a job to do, and getting distracted wasn’t safe for the civilians. So, you snapped out of it, promising that once every hostage was safe, you would go back and finally do the one thing you’ve never realized you wanted to do. The one thing you were never meant to do.

Kill.

And, so, you wasted no time approaching every single one of the hostages, hands glowing a warm yellow as you healed any cut, any lesion, any dark bruises you could find. It at least comforted you knowing that, judging by the look of pure amazement and shock plastered on their faced as you healed them, they weren’t subjected to the same fate you once were.

You helped Sam keep the hostages as safe as you two could, leading them through the hallways until Clint and Nat were able to meet you all in the middle and help them all in the quinjet. You were able to keep them unharmed from the fight outside. Steve, Bucky, and Tony working together to keep them at bay. The second the hostages were safe in the jet, with Clint tasked to watch over them, Natasha and Sam soon joined in the effort of staving off the HYDRA agents that attacked.

Distracted by the number of agents that seem to have doubled, you took this opportunity to slip back inside the facility without anyone noticing.

You knew there was something—someone else inside that facility. Your father was somewhere in there, waiting. And you knew that he knew you’d be here. And you’d be damned if you missed any opportunity to finally end this.

You take the familiar turns, taking out a few agents with no difficulty on your way there, until you were right outside the room where it all started.

Your right hand was shaky as you opened the door, gun gripped tightly on your left. The sight that welcomes you was the chair where they used to strap you down, syringes and bottles scattered on the table beside it. When the door opens more, you see a man sitting with his back to your front.

You didn’t need to see his face to know it was your father.

The chill in his voice enough to bring back the fear you felt so strongly before.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he says, calmly. “I was beginning to lose faith that you’d come visit me again.”

When he turns to face you, you cock your gun and raise it to his head. You hate the way he easily picks up on the way your hands waver and how you lip trembles. He laughs, mocking you.

“After all this time, you’ve still proven to be weak. I thought we taught you to be the best.”

You move closer to him as you mutter out, “You ruined me.”

“I saved you,” he snarls.

You don’t expect the laugh that escapes you. “You call what you did saving?”

From your earpiece, you hear Bucky’s voice say your name. “Where are you?!”

You ignore it, eyes still trained on the man in front of you. Nothing gets past your father and judging by how his eyes twinkle in amusement at seeing your resolve falter after hearing Bucky’s voice, you know he’ll mock you for it.

“Soldat. You’ve kept contact with him, I see. Tell me, do those words still work on him?”

“Shut up.”

“Sweetheart, I need you to tell me where you are, please. Please, talk to me.”

“Is he grateful you saved him so many times? Or does he think of it as a nuisance? That the only girl he cared about, could only see him as something to be fixed and not loved.”

“You don’t know anything—”

“Please, tell me where you are.” The huffs coming out of Bucky’s breath tell you he’s running, the echoes making it known that he’s inside too. You figure that if you kill your father now, before he found you, he wouldn’t have to think of you as a killer too.

It’s way too distracting, you’re face-to-face with the one man who’s hurt you beyond repair, and the man you love is begging you to give him any sort of sign that you’re alive. The former, you deem, is the more important task at hand. You rip off your earpiece and throw it far away. Your father smirks at your actions.

“You were supposed to be greater than him,” he says.

“You always reminded me of it.”

“But it seems that you never could. No matter how many times we tried, you were always nothing more than a failed project.”

The grip on your gun tightens, but so does your chest. He’s hit a sore spot—managed to hit you right where he knew it would hurt, reminding you that you were never a daughter to him. You would never be the greatest thing they always hoped to make out of you.

You were a failure.

But you could live with that. You could live knowing you were a failure if it meant that the blood of the bastard in front of you would come from your own hands.

“Going to kill me now?”

“No,” you say as you lower your gun. You catch how your father’s shoulder relaxes, thinking that you weren’t actually going to kill your own father. You weren’t lying, though. You weren’t going to kill him now; you were going to do it slowly.

And you were going to enjoy it.

You grab the knife you placed inside your holster and throw it right into the space between his shoulder and collarbone. The screams he let out were delicious to your ears. And you want more.

Your legs run to where he is, and you take the knife out of where it was sheathed, only to place it deep on the other side. The sound of the knife slicing his skin, the blood squelching, and your father’s agony were like a haunting symphony that could only be created by a beautiful harmony from the bitterness and revolting nature of revenge.

You’re about to stab him right in the chest when Bucky barges in the room and sees you. Your heart drops just as fast as the horrified expression appeared on his face. His eyes asses you—blood splattered all over your face, your suit, your hands. The very same hands that saved his life, taking one right in front of him.

You’re afraid that this will only further distort his view of you. He had never seen you go on a rampage, nor had he ever seen you with blood on your hands that you were responsible for. Going against the very reason you had gone through years long of discomfort and maltreatment. Maybe he was going to think that he never knew you at all. Maybe he was going to leave you for good now.

“Bucky?”

He's about to tell you it’s okay when from below you, he sees the blur of your father’s arms moving as he points a gun at you and fires. Bucky doesn’t hear himself shout, nor does he give himself any time to process if he ever did. Because next thing he knew, he was holding the gun that fired right at your father’s head, his arms falling and body going limp.

He looks to you, the fear doubling, tripling when he sees your upper body falling back. His legs run to you, arms outstretched in hopes to catch you before you fall. And when you do, he falls with you.

You can’t hear what he’s saying, only that his mouth is moving and his hands are everywhere. On your face, your neck, your arms, on your stomach.

You heard the shot before you felt it.

You heard Bucky’s shout before you felt the stinging pain of a bullet entering below your ribs.

You know you’re losing blood fast, you can feel it dampening your suit and seeing how Bucky’s hands were covered in crimson. You muster enough energy to raise your hand and place it over the one he’s using to stop the blood flow from the bullet hole. Your breathing is ragged and your vision blurs.

But all you can see is Bucky.

All you can feel is him.

When your lids grow heavier, he tells Steve to run faster. He’s desperate to try and keep you alive but seeing how your eyes gloss over him and how your head keeps falling back, he’s afraid that any moment now he’ll lose you. But he can’t move, he can’t risk letting any more blood escape you.

It’s when you put your hand over his that he realizes the reason why you seem to be growing so tired.

He feels the cut on his cheek close, the air not stinging the open wound anymore. God, does he hate you for that. You’re in his arms, dying, yet you’re still trying to heal him. He tells you to stop, to keep your energy in staying alive, but all you do is hum and continue.

Bucky can taste the tears that falls out of his eyes.

“You need to stay with me—stay with me, honey, please. You’re okay, you’re okay, you’ll be okay. You just need to hold on until the others get here, we’ll keep you safe, okay? Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m here. I’m here, I’m here, I’m here, I’m sorry.”

“I’m. . .I—” You try to get the words out of you before you know it’s too late. But he’s quick to tell you to be quiet to save it, to tell him when you’re both back at the tower.

Safe and alive.

God, he wishes you would stay alive.

He’s always hated how you couldn’t heal yourself. Out of everyone he knew to be deserving of being at the receiving end of your power, it was you. He never left you alone when you get a cut from slicing vegetables as you prepared dinner or when you hit the corner of a table too hard it would leave a bruise. Always the first to panic and move to his feet when he sees any sign of distress on your body.

Because he can’t stand the thought of losing you.

“You’re okay, honey. Steve’s on his way, he’ll help me carry you to the jet, okay?”

“Buck. . .”

“Shh, save your energy, sweetheart. Please.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t—fuck, there’s nothing to apologize for. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I hurt you. But please stay with me. We’ll talk about it when you’re better, just stay with me.”

You try your hardest to listen to him, to follow what he’s saying. But you’ve lost too much blood, and your body starts to grow heavier by the minute. And you’re tired, you’re so, so tired that you think if you rested your eyes for just a second, you’ll regain some sort of strength back.

When your eyes start to close, Bucky tries to shake you. His heart drops when he feels gravity weighing your body down, when he hears your heart stutter and your breaths get shakier. He’s begging you to try and stay.

The last thing you remember is the feel of his lips on your temple as he whispers I love you.

———

The first thing that you register when you come-to is how bright everything is. Though your eyes are closed, it doesn’t do much to shield you from the biting brightness of the room. The next thing you realize is how loud the monitor beside you beeped. At least it gave you confirmation that you were alive. Your heart was still beating. That was good.

The third thing you feel is your body. The spot where your father shot at ached but only just so—somewhat between a phantom pain and a lingering sting. It feels awkward, synthetic almost. It makes you think that Doctor Cho had worked her magic from the cradle to repair you. As you slowly gain your consciousness, you feel a warmth enveloping your right hand.

You slowly work your way to open your eyes, moving any part of your body that you could move to wake yourself up.

It takes a moment for you to adjust, but when you do, the first sight that welcomes you is the hand that’s gripping yours. Holding you so tightly as if they were afraid if it loosened any slight bit, you would disappear.

The figure was hunched over the hospital bed, sleeping.

The head of brown, tussled hair makes your heart flutter.

“Bu—”

You almost manage to say his name when you realize how dry your throat is. You’re all but thrown into a fit of coughs, which wakes the man beside you up. You see the initial sheer panic on his face, but he heaves a sigh of relief when he realizes that you’re finally up.

You’re here. You’re awake. You’re alive.

“Hold on,” he says. He stands from where he’s seated to grab a cup of water and gives it to you.

His hands don’t leave your body as he watches you take small sips, letting your throat get used to the liquid. The pad of his thumbs rubs over your skin. The feeling making you feel warmer. When you’re finished, you hand him the cup, and he puts it on the table by your bed.

Neither of you say anything at first, letting the silence take over. But it doesn’t get past you how he’s staring at the spot where your bullet wound would scare. You know he’s thinking about something, his brows furrowed to intensely it makes you want to reach out and smooth it out.

It’s you who speaks first. “Are you mad at me?”

“What?!” Bucky is surprised. He was half-expecting you to tell him to leave or even tell him off for not protecting you sooner.

“I. . .I didn’t listen to you when you asked me if I was ready for this mission. Clearly I wasn’t. You were right.”

Bucky is shaking his head while his one of his hands rest on the side of your face. “I could never be mad at you. Sweetheart, I—Jesus, I was so scared I would lose you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, please. It’s me who has to do that. I wasn’t being fair to you, I know you were just looking out for me like you always do. But I couldn’t even give it back to you. You got hurt and I wasn’t there.”

His voice wavers when he says the last part. It’s still a sore subject for him. Seeing you so close to dying, knowing that he could’ve done something, anything to prevent what happened to you.

“I love you, Bucky,” you say, “I never saw you as something that needed to be fixed.”

Bucky is kissing you before you know it. You melt into it just as quickly as he pressed his lips onto yours—like you always did. Because it was Bucky. It’s not hard for you to melt into him and find your place and fit perfectly into the spots where you two became one.

“I love you,” he whispers in between the kiss. “I love you.”

You know you two need to talk about what happened more. Clear out any anxieties and fears that brewed for the last 34 hours since your fight.

But that could wait.

For now, you two savor the feel of each other. The feel of being alive together. Him telling you he loves you, you telling him you love him.

Because that’s how it was supposed to be.

[neutinya]

Mischaracterization of Characters in Haikyuu

Don’t read this if you are not going to have an open mind about it. [Edited]

I am honestly sick and tired of characters being misrepresented here in the Haikyuu fandom. I’m not talking about minor headcanons etc, I’m talking about how more than half of the fandom have been mischaracterizing and diluting characters personalities, twisting them into something that is no way near their original intended character. Quite personally, this is probably one of the worst things you can do. So, right here, right now. I am going to go in depth of some of the most mischaracterized characters in Haikyuu based on my personal opinion. 

This is in no way to hate on any of them, I love every single person in the anime, each for their own individual attributes that make them unique, here, I am merely stating blatant facts based of the manga and anime. So if you like this sort of thing, sit back and grab some motherfucking popcorn cause this is going to be a long-fucking rant.

- Oikawa -

Listen here. Oikawa is not a whiny crybaby who cries all the fucking time, he is probably the most mischaracterized character in the entire fandom. He’s a strong guy who is dedicated to the thing he loves and ensures his teammates can play to the best of their ability. I get that all of us one way or another have an inner sadist in ourselves that makes up enjoy watching our favourite characters suffer psychologically or physically. But when people perceive, write, draw Oikawa as a boy who cries over the smallest of thing, whines, and overall is a weak little shit, it gets very annoying and frustrating. You are diluting his character seriously, tarnishing his real personality and character. And because of that half of the fandom sees him as this weak dude who breaks down and cries over the tiniest and most minuscule of things?

Look at him, does this look like the face of someone who cries all the fucking time? 

Let me say, Oikawa is bloody capable of destroying someone if he wishes. His serves are fucking powerful, and even Ushijima, one of the top spikers in the Miyagi prefecture, acknowledges that. So why do people characterize him as a selfish whiny asshole. You know very well this little ball of terror cares deeply for his teammates, not a self-centred asshole who asks Iwaizumi to bang his ass all the time. Also, why to some people whore him out? He isn’t that type of guy. Although I get that in various different contexts, the situation depends. But just so you know, canon Oikawa is very well a man of pride, I admit, he does whine, but to the extent of using emotional pity to get what he wants is just so out of character. 

I love Oikawa, probably as much as I love Iwa [IHajime is my favourite character in the series, if you did not know.] , that’s why it’s sad to see that he has been “re-written” by fans as this weak-ass teenager with nothing better to do than tear up all the goddamn time. Really, Oikawa is fucking strong as hell and though he may have a few insecurities, he will crush his opponents with his abilities and strengths. Not fucking whining. 

Even his teammates respect him and put all their trust and faith into this beauty of a captain, they know he can do shit to annoy them, but they acknowledge his true strength and believe in him no matter how dire the situation. He is Seijou’s captain, heartthrob of many high schools, and one of the most respected Setters. So for fuck’s sake, stop diluting his character more than people have already have.

- Iwaizumi -

I wouldn’t go as far to say Iwa’s is as bad as Oikawa’s, however, since he is my favourite character, and I may have a biased opinion towards this, I would like to say some things as to how he has been in some instances misrepresented in the fandom.

Stop mischaracterizing him as this big old brute who does nothing but threaten to hit Oikawa all the time, I mean, sure, he does that, but we all know it’s out of concern. As a personal writer of fanfiction, I often use this to express his concern towards his friend, not a threat, so why are there actually people who see him as abusive? It’s clear this is his way of caring for Oikawa and ensuring he doesn’t hurt himself or overexert his knee in practice. His aggression is just his own way of saying “I care for you so don’t do anything stupid”, also, I’m not very sure why people would think Iwaizumi is the emotionally “Stronger” one between him and Oikawa. If you need a refresher, Iwa isn’t able to keep in his emotions as well as Oikawa, seeing as the very person who told Oikawa the team with the better six is stronger, questioned his self-worth and position as ace because he couldn’t help his team win. In my unpopular personal view on this, Hajime may be more emotional than people make him out to be.

Another thing that genuinely upsets me is that this baby is as strong as Ushijima but doesn’t get the recognition he deserves? Like, give him some credit, his spikes based off official statistics state that it’s a 5/5, just like Ushijima. So can we please do what we can to spread that Iwaizumi is not just the other half to Oikawa and a person by himself as well? You shouldn’t only love him because he makes up the one of the halves to your OTP, you should also love him for the very fact that this baby loves Godzilla, is a huge dork, is a great Senpai, multi-athletic, and most importantly, the ace of Aoba Jousai, a powerhouse school. Give him as much love as you give everyone else. Okay? okay.

Now, moving on to the fandom aspect, may we please have more Oikawa taking care of Iwa? Just have more fanfiction or fanart with Oikawa reassuring he is enough? We have a rather huge amount of fan-related contributions with Oikawa as the person being constantly assured that he is enough and he tried his best. But may I please see more contributions with Iwaizumi being comforted that he is enough, and that he shouldn’t question his role as ace? I don’t know man, but I think Iwa needs that, he has to learn to recognise his own strengths.

- Tsukishima -

Tsukki is not only a salty french fry who looks down on everyone besides Yamaguchi. Tsukki is one of those characters with the best character development. I agree, he can be a dick, but he doesn’t doubt his teammates capabilities. For example, he may find Hinata annoying at first, however, he acknowledges that Hinata has too surprised him with his drive and determination to rise to the top, making him want to be in some way the “moon” that supports the “sun”.

Let me be in honest here. Before I finished watching Haikyuu, all I saw in Tsukki was an unmotivated dick, but after learning how the person he looked up to, in this in case Akiteru, lied to him and made his idea of “working hard to get you anywhere” fall apart, I realised that after knowing this, his character and personality made so much more sense. This boy went from someone who only saw “Volleyball” as a club activity to something he could actually put effort into. That’s right, he tries. This boy does tries. Shocking I know.

- Yachi -

Yachi is not just a girl who gets in the way of your ships. She is so much more than that. She, despite having a very obvious fear of confronting people she is not comfortable with still tries her very best to do what she can for the Karasuno boys. Don’t forget, this little sweetheart is the girl who helped come up with the poster for the team. She put in a lot of effort into that, so I think it would be nice to give her credit where it’s due even if you might not like her.

I personally feel that Yachi has undergone a lot of character development, she went from this fearful girl to someone worthy of being the next manager of Karasuno. She does her best to pick up what she can from Kiyoko so she can be as good of a manager in the future, if not better. So please stop hating on this cinnamon roll just because she might get in the way of you ships. She has done nothing wrong and I don’t feel she deserves hate in anyway, unless you can validify your point and give me good evidence as to why she is to be hated, this treatment towards her is completely unnecessary.

- Kiyoko -

Kiyoko is the classic case of fans over-sexualising her in fanart or in fan-related contributions. This beautiful lady is not just a woman with a big bust and no brains. Mind you, Kiyoko was an ex-athlete. She could whoop your puny ass in running if you try and I highly doubt you’d win. She was the great heroine who brought Hinata’s bag on her two feet excuse yourself. So please don’t paint her as this lady who all guys fawn over just because she is pretty, she has a personality and life too. See past that superficial layer and grow up.

Look at her, look how sweet she is. It is clear she is a little shy at times, yet she, like Yachi, do their best to express their support towards the boys. I think girls in Sports anime tend to receive more hate than usual, mainly with the idea they are a hindrance to your gay OTPs, hey you, what makes you think that? Can’t a girl be a nice to guy platonically? Even if they in fact to get together with someone who is partially but of you OTP, just congratulate them and move on for fuck’s sake. Stop sparking up unnecessary drama when you lack maturity to comprehend that they can do whatever the hell they want. If you are genuinely upset, just write fanfiction to feed your guilty pleasures, no need to hate on anybody.

Look at what a good senpai she is.

- Yamaguchi -

Okay, listen here you little shits. If you hate on this little precious smol cinnamon roll I will rip your throat out and shove it up your ass. Do not tell me that Yamaguchi is just this weak little boy who doesn’t deserve to be on the Karasuno team. Do not tell me that this boy doesn’t try to do his best just so he can play alongside his friends, because more than anyone among the first years, Yama tries the hardest. He finds someone who can teach him a jump float serve so he can prove to be a valuable player and not just a good ol’ bench-warmer. And you can see even if he might not be perfect, this little bean tries so fucking hard to have something he can contribute to the team’s success.

I don’t care if you don’t ship Tsukkiyama or not, honestly, I don’t give two shits about what you ship. But if you hate on him just because you ship some other ship, you are fucked up. What on earth did he do? He’s the best friend of Tsukishima, yes, I perosnally ship them both romantically and just as friends because I do have multiple ships alongside rare-pairs, but why hate on him? Boy, why hate on anybody? Can’t everyone accept that all characters have their on individual strengths, weaknesses, character, personalities? Seeing your NOTPs isn’t a valid excuse to create hateblogs or hateposts against other characters, that is just childish and immature.

- Sugawara -

Suga is not some weak-ass bitch who depends on Daichi for everything JesusFuckADuck. Stop drawing him as this overly-feminine character when his build is not that far off from Daichi’s. Note, I am not saying being feminine is bad, it’s good, definitely, however going as far as to make Sugawara a guy with almost no trace of masculinity left is a little odd. If that’s what you want, go ahead. Just stop portraying him as someone who can’t even defend hiself lmao, Suga will and can whoop anyone’s ass, do you not remember how painful his jabs can be? Even Daichi and Asahi fear him.

Look at him. He can be intimidating, an angel and a devil. He’s Karasuno’s mom alright, but he is a strong independent mother who will and can be strict if he wants to. He was Karasuno’s setter before Kageyama if you don’t remember, he is intelligent, smart and selfless enough to be willing to sacrifice his opportunity to play on the court, because he knows Kageyama taking his place was the best shot to give the team a chance at winning. Yeah well sorry if you’re butthurt if I said that, I just had to remind you guys, seems like some people forgot.

- Kuroo -

[ Contributed by @mayphenix and edited by me. Check them out. ]

Kuroo isn’t a sex god, he’s a dork who likes having fun, teasing his kouhais but knows when he goes over the top and apologizes [Like he does to Sawamura when he thinks he’s hurt Tsukki]. He loves science and is overall a huge little science nerd, currently attending college prep class as one of the top student’s in Nekoma. He’s very well capable of recognizing his opponents’ abilities and strengths, coming up with more than decent strategies to overcome them and pulverising them.

Yes, he is sexy but that’s not a reason to only see him as that. What about his passion and love for volleyball? It’s the guy who learned volleyball by watching on people play it on televsion [Which is pretty close to Volleyball genius Kageyama learning by watching Oikawa] and he’s fucking brilliant at volleyball but he doesn’t let it go over his head. He’s modest and he’s helpful towards his own school kouhais, but also players on other teams, just because he’s just that nice. He just wants to play volleyball and help his coach’s dream to be fulfilled; the Battle of the Trash Dump, live on the national stage. He is such a good person but he’s viewed as this mischievous, mocking and sometimes cunning guy when really he’s got his heart on his sleeve and helps out whenever he can.

- Bokuto -

[ Also contributed by @mayphenix​ and edited by me. Check them out. ]

Bokuto isn’t a fool who is self-centered and moody. Yes he acts like a dork, yes he is moody occasionally. But what matters most is that he has the capacity to pick himself and act like a proper Captain and Ace. [Not that we’ve seen it happen yet, they stated it may be a biased opinion since Bokuto is their favourite character. But I completley agree with them, Please note all this was in their perspective and I am merely adding it onto this master post.] They doubt Fukurodani chose him as Captain simply because he’s the most powerful player and has Akaashi to keep him in check.

In the manga and anime, they say that the rest of the team pulls him forward, and Akaashi says that a strong opponent doesn’t phase him, I believe we’ll see him being the one pulling Fukurodani forward when they need him the most. He takes a lot of pride in being the Ace of a powerhouse school and among the top 5 spikers in the Miyagi prefecture, but like Kuroo, he doesn’t let it get into his head. He also helps out younger players who aren’t even on his team, showing how much of a good senpai he can be. He’s pretty quick to figure out someone’s behaviour or character, since he figures out Tsukki’s personality very quickly. And in the last few chapters we’ve seen him analyze tactics and plays. One does not simply become among the top 5 spikers just because they’ve got big arms and power: They need to be clever enough to think of patterns and attacks and act accordingly to the given situation. He’s not only an owl-obssessed idiot. He’s not a burden and he leads his team proudly. He’s not just moody, he’s just free to be who he wants to be thanks to the trust his teammates have in him.

- Ushijima -

Okay, I want this post to be honest and true, so let’s make it clear. I did not like Ushijima at all in the beginning, not one bit. Which was immaturity on my part because I didn’t see his full story, I saw him as this pushy emotionless guy who had issues with Oikawa not going to Shiratorizawa. But boy, was I wrong. Ushijima is a giant softie at heart who just has trouble expressing his emotions normally, when he does do it, it may not come out the way he had intended it to be. And as a person who has trouble controlling their emotions, I relate to him a lot. Let’s not forget that Ushijima was a single child who was shunned by some people in his family for being left-handed, one of his relatives even suggested trying to correct it though we all know that is not the way to go.

The following is extracted from the Haikyuu wiki. “Ushijima doesn’t speak often, but when he does he bluntly says what’s on his mind and usually comes off as tactless. He will apologize if he realizes that he has insulted someone, but he won’t change his viewpoint.” This boy is not some prick who doesn’t apologise alright? He is not a cold-ass villian with no tact, he is just not very emotionally connected our capable. As @manga-trashcan-pen​ has pointed out, Ushijima was an isolated child. Meaning he did not experience much social interaction which should have helped build his character and social sensitivity. He is a human with just as much emotions as anybody, for god’s sake this big bean’s favourite food is rice.

He is a captain who has faith in his team’s ability, he believes that only the strongest could have got onto his team and thus he makes sure to bring out the best in everyone.

- Tendou -

Tendo is a very sad character I would say. Not only was he bullied and ostracized in school, he was not liked by some of his peers even in the later part of his life, even though he is a very respectable and skilled middle blocker. Not only does he have the talent and skill to deduce an opponents moves, he has the physical capacity to actually do what is necessary to prevent it. It makes me a little sad that there are people who actually hate him, cause I absolutely love him and think he deserves so much more recognition.

Let’s back up a little and delve into his past. We know that this little red floof was bullied for looking like a “monster”, but when he moved on to highschool however, we can see so much more of his character as it’s obvious he feels more accepted in the academy. And though he may be at times a little annoying, he is still a little sinnamon roll, just like how he knew not to push on with Ushijima when the latter spoke about his family. This boy does have tact and knows when it’s enough to stop probing. He is not a over-enthusiastic dick who annoys everyone he sees alright? This boy who had no friends went on to befriend one of the most notable spikers in the prefecture. Even going as far as to call Ushijima his best friend.

Never forget what he said when they lost the match against Karasuno. He lost one of the only things that made him feel accepted and if that doesn’t break your heart then go get one.

Since I realised I left out some other really major characters, I have added on. And mostly because you guys like me venting??

This was with the help of other Tumblr users who have helped contributed to this post, I merely did a sum up. Credits and thanks to the following users for adding their share and pointing out other very mischaracterized characters, @mayphenix​ , @gayerthanchanel​ , @dragonarmada​ , @manga-trashcan-pen​ , and KingofhellLordofTime from my instagram.

In the edit, I covered other characters I have failed to mention earlier or who were not brought to my intention

Well, That’s it. That’s the end of this rant. Have a nice day.

[envymoony]

as a kid i’ve always wanted to be involved with the arts. music, broadway, action movies, animated movies, and the likes. it’s always been a dream to perform as a stage and have a few minutes of me on a screen. it’s such a wonder to think about. 

[cocomoraine]

Can I just say, that after watching The Phantom of the Opera last night, I'm still not over it, and I love these three until death.

[critter-of-habit]

Christine has so much attitude and confidence in this song it’s so damn sexy

[mrpinniped]

I just watched Love Never Dies, and now I’m thinking it needs another sequel.  But unlike it’s dramatic predecessors, this one will be a wacky, Starkid-style comedy in which Raoul and the Phantom have to put aside their differences and attempt to raise Gustave together.  Highlights include: -Erik is constantly showing up in mirrors around the house.  (Raoul: “Dammit Erik I’m TRYING to brush my teeth!”) -The mirror tricks are also very irritating to teenage Gustave who has brought his first girlfriend home and would like some PRIVACY, dad! - Erik dropping chandeliers on people at the slightest provocation.  Raoul has no idea where he keeps getting them, and he’d rather not find out. -Still, Raoul is grateful that Erik is willing to smash a chandelier to get him out of trouble when his creditors come knocking. -Erik is just.  A Dramatic Bitch.  All The Time. -He may occasionally make a dancing dramatic entrance a la AVPS Lucius Malfoy. -They have to move to a new town when Erik gets into a disagreement with Gustave’s music teacher. -Raoul slowly falls in love with Meg Giry as they try to pick up the pieces of their lives.   -Erik throws a Drama Fit when he finds out about Raoul and Meg.  “How DARE you do that to the memory of Christine?”  “Uh, I’m moving on.  Like an actual person.  Not a creepy basement guy who can’t get over a girl after 15 years.”   -The prologue of the show is an adult Gustave explaining all of this to his therapist. -At the end, the therapist walks out of her room and Erik’s in the mirror.  - Other references to ALW works appear occasionally.  Gustave tells his dads he saw the cats in the alley having a dance party last night (they dismiss it as a child’s imagination).  Potiphar is the landlord (his wife occasionally comes by to flirt), and Superstar Jesus is their neighbor, which comes in handy when they run out of wine.  

[envymoony]

it's been a while since i've gotten on tumblr. school is stressing me out completely and my mental health has gone down the drain. absolutely no energy to continue anymore.

[foreverthe80s]

Can’t Buy Me Love (1987)

[kdramadaily]

“When I was scared, lonely, and even upset, like I am right now, no one was there for me. So I lived my life putting up with acting like I was fine all the time. But now I have someone to call. It’s very reassuring.” — Jin Seon Mi, Hwayugi (2018)

[triangularlily]

💓 You’re making my heart flutter again. 💓

[defbeoms]

#proud onlookers

[dancerkai94]

♡