Steve tugs the brim of his cap a little lower and keeps his face pointed down as far as possible, his eyes tracking a large familiar silhouette across the street. He’s barely visible in the dirty dusk light at this distance, quickly exchanging money for a paper bag from a roadside farm stall. He tips his head, looking around cautiously as he mounts a black motorcycle and rides off.
A tiny smile curls the corner of Steve’s mouth. He’s smart, Steve has been tracking him here for a month but his routine is completely random - always at dawn or dusk but never the same day of the week or the same interval between visits.
“Anything?” Sam asks on the phone a few minutes later.
“He’s too fast to get a tracker on the bike and too skittish to follow.”
“Redwing?” he suggests.
“Maybe, next time. Just gotta make sure it’s a good distance away.”
“Maximum stealth, got it. You comin’ back now?”
“Later tonight, gonna hang around a bit and make sure no one else is following him.”
Steve mounts his motorcycle and starts the engine. Without really deciding on a direction he finds himself headed along a winding road into the woods as it turns into a much narrower dirt track.
This isn’t really where he wants to be as the sun disappears. At a slightly wider area he makes a hard turn back toward town, but something feels off. Steve stops, shuts off the engine to listen. He could swear he heard something through the rustle of the trees above.
Probably an animal.
As he reaches down to turn the key in the ignition, an unforgiving gloved hand closes over his fingers and a firm, warm hand grips his throat.
“What do you want from me?” Bucky hisses in his ear.
“I just want to make sure you’re okay,” Steve replies softly, raising his free hand in surrender.
“I’d be better if I wasn’t being followed,” Bucky says harshly, releasing him.
“Who’s following you?” Steve enquires, stepping away from his bike to look around.
“Christ, you haven’t changed at all.” Bucky rakes a hand through his hair. “You, Steve. You’ve been following me for weeks. You stand out like… like Captain America.”
Steve looks down at his civilian outfit, chosen specifically to be inconspicuous. “Oh.”
“I’m perfectly fine, and I don’t need you drawing attention. Please just leave me be.”
“Buck…”
Bucky sighs and gestures down the track. “If I prove it will you leave me alone?”
“Maybe.”
Bucky smoothly straddles Steve’s motorcycle, starting up the engine as Steve is forced to sit behind him. As they ride down the track and the trees grow thicker, Steve is surprised at the warmth he can feel from the proximity of Bucky’s back. A familiar warmth, long forgotten, that makes him want to lean in and let it consume him.
A few minutes later a hunting shack appears between the trees. As he shuts off the engine they’re plunged into almost pitch black but Bucky finds his way easily to the door, lighting a small oil lamp that casts shadows across the space. There’s a small table in the centre with some fruit and vegetables on a paper bag, a bed in the corner, and a couple of wooden chairs are the only other furniture. What’s immediately noticeable to Steve is the lack of anything other than food that would indicate that someone had been here, except for a backpack sitting on the chair beside the door.
He remembers living like this for years. Being used to having to leave at a moment’s notice, always having his whole life ready to grab with one hand and go. It’s taken Steve so long to feel like he could have clothes in his wardrobe, belongings in drawers and cupboards. Even longer to feel he could own his space, and now that he’s moved into the tower for extra security since the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D… he wishes it felt like home.
Bucky is staring at him expectantly, as though he asked a question and Steve wasn’t listening.
“Are you sure you’re safe here?” Steve asks.
“Safe as I can be, you think there aren’t booby traps all around us?”
“I wouldn’t expect any less.” He looks around as his eyes adjust to the near darkness. “How are you?”
Bucky shakes his head. “We don’t have to do this.”
“Look, I know you’ve been through… I can’t even begin to imagine.”
“Steve, come on. We’re not just going to sit by the fire and share stories until we feel better.”
“You were never one for sharing what’s going on in your head,” Steve says with a smirk. “I just want to know you’re…”
“Stable? Not going to turn back into Hydra’s weapon? I have no idea. And no, talking about feelings isn’t going to help.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“I’m not safe to be around.” Bucky says quietly.
Steve takes a step toward him, closing the gap between them so that he can see the dark flecks in the blue of Bucky’s eyes. “I trust you.”
Bucky swallows. “I don’t.”
Steve wants to spill out everything that races through his mind. He doesn’t care about the years that have passed, having Bucky right here in front of him for the first time is like being back in the alps right before he was lost. The night before they captured Zola’s train, there were so many moments he was pulled to do things his mind said he shouldn’t… and so many times since he’s replayed that long night and wished he hadn’t hesitated.
Now he’s sure he sees the same question in Bucky’s eyes as his own, sees the hesitation and fear that he might be wrong. He leans toward Bucky, slowly in case he pulls away, and Bucky presses his right hand against Steve’s chest as if to stop him. Steve’s stomach sinks and he breaks their gaze just as the fist closes in his shirt and Bucky pulls him in, crashing their lips together.
Steve freezes, terrified that if he moves he’ll break the spell. A few seconds pass before he feels Bucky breathe and relax his grip, and he lets himself lean into the kiss and feel the softness of Bucky’s mouth. It’s gentle and slow, the tip of his tongue exploring his lips and teasing them apart.
For the first time since he can remember, Bucky’s mind stops. There’s nothing except Steve’s scent, his warm mouth, his heart beating fast beneath his fist. Nothing else exists. Steve’s hands find their way to the small of his back, pressing their bodies together.
Steve keeps his eyes closed as Bucky finally pulls back, wanting this moment to last for eternity. Even Bucky’s whisper threatens to shatter the silent bliss.
“Steve, we –”
“Don’t. Don’t talk.”
To Steve’s surprise, Bucky lets out a quiet chuckle, and it’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard.
“Bucky?” he whispers.
“Mm?”
“I don’t want to let go.”
Bucky’s hand cups Steve’s face, his thumb brushing over his jaw as he inspects him as though seeing him for the first time. “So don’t.”
This time Steve doesn’t wait, closing his mouth over Bucky’s and pulling hard against his back so that there’s no air between them. Gradually his hands find their way under the hem of Bucky’s shirt, his fingertips raking against his warm, bare back. Bucky stiffens at his touch at first but is soon arching his back and kissing Steve deeper. He tugs Steve’s shirt up and breaks the kiss long enough to toss it to the floor and trail his fingertips over his chest.
So many times Bucky’s seen Steve like this, but never been so unashamed to touch him, to crave him like he does. To be alone with him now and be able to feel his warm, soft skin is overwhelming.
“Hey,” Steve says gently. He takes Bucky’s right hand and places it firmly on his chest, but Bucky hesitates.
Steve knows, because he feels the same way. Wants everything at once, wants to be inside him and surrounding him at the same time, wants to push Bucky to the brink of ecstasy until he quivers and also be completely at his mercy. And he knows Bucky doesn’t trust himself, because his mind hasn’t been his own for so long.
So Steve takes the lead. He lifts off Bucky’s jacket and shirt, barely noticing the red tendrils around his metal arm as he kisses down one side of his neck, relishing the vibration of Bucky’s deep groan. He forces himself to go slow, gently touching his chest and shoulder, dragging his fingertips down over his stomach to grab the waist of Bucky’s jeans and tug him in for another deep kiss.
Bucky lets Steve lead him to the bed in the corner, which is clearly only meant for one. It reminds him of all the times in Steve’s bedroom as teenagers, where they’d lie beside each other and pretend to only be touching because the bed was so small. Truthfully they’d always found any excuse. There didn’t seem to be a need for one now.
It feels like hours spent exploring each other with lips and hands before finally they’re both naked and intertwined. Steve feels Bucky’s cock leaking onto his leg as they kiss, reaching down to take it in his hand and stroke until Bucky moans loud into the night.
“Slow down,” he whispers, kissing Steve’s neck.
Steve loosens his grip and slows his breathing as Bucky reciprocates, taking Steve’s length in his fist. He immediately understands why Bucky wanted him to go slower, already feeling like he will explode in his palm.
Steve pushes Bucky onto his back, hovering over him as he parts his legs. He lowers his hips until their shafts are against each other, wrapping one hand around them as he moves back and forth. Bucky’s mouth has fallen open in silent ecstasy, his eyes locked with Steve’s as he squeezes Steve’s hips. Steve leans down and kisses him deeply, Bucky’s ragged breath and muffled moans spurring him on. It’s only a few minutes before Steve can’t hold on any longer and starts to rut against him harder, rubbing the sensitive spot on his cock against Bucky’s until he spurts all over his stomach.
As he catches his breath he moves down Bucky’s body, leaving a trail of kisses until he reaches his shaft. He looks up and catches Bucky watching him, keeping eye contact as he takes the tip between his lips and swirls his tongue around it.
“Oh my god,” Bucky moans.
Encouraged, Steve takes him further into his mouth until he hits the back of his throat, sucking hard as he moves his mouth up and down. Within a few seconds Bucky’s legs start to shake.
“Steve, wait…”
He doesn’t stop, just groans around his cock as he feels his hips thrust up to meet him and the first threads of cum coat his tongue. Only then Steve slows, swallowing all that Bucky gives him and releasing him from his lips.
Steve collapses on the pillow beside Bucky, watching his chest heave with a smile. For a long time neither of them speak, and then Steve’s phone shatters the silence.
“Hey, Sam,” he answers, keeping his voice steady as he peers out into the black night.
“Everything okay?” Sam asks.
“Yeah, I um… I found somewhere to stay instead of coming back tonight. Completely slipped my mind to check in, sorry.”
He’s met with silence.
“Everything’s fine.”
“Don’t do anything stupid.” Sam says warily.
Steve smiles at a distant memory. “I’ll check in with you tomorrow.”
When he turns back to Bucky he’s pulled on a pair of pants and is sitting stiffly on the edge of the bed.
“You should go, Steve.”
And just like that the outside world that faded away for a blissful couple of hours comes crashing back in.
“Buck…”
“I don’t need them tracking you here.”
“They won’t, as long as I keep checking in.” He sits beside Bucky but hesitates when he wants to touch him and suddenly feels very naked. “Please trust me.”
“What’s your big plan? Hide out in the woods with me until I turn on you? Commute back and forth and just pretend you never found me?”
“I don’t… There’s no plan. I came to make sure you were okay, and I’ll do whatever you need.”
“This can’t change anything, I’m still a danger to you.”
“I’m not leaving, not tonight at least.” He climbs into the bed behind Bucky and pulls the scratchy woollen blanket up to his waist.
“Still so fucking stubborn,” Bucky mumbles as he shuts off the lamp, kicks off his pants and lies down beside Steve.
That night, for the first time he can remember, Bucky sleeps for a few hours under Steve’s protective gaze. Steve watches his chest rise and fall, his face occasionally contorting in terror, and every time he lays a hand on his bare chest, reminds him he’s safe until his heart slows. For the first time in his life he doesn’t care that he doesn’t have a plan, even though he knows it can’t be as simple as just living out his days here with Bucky. For tonight all he needs is to keep the outside world away, and have Bucky finally rest in his arms.
Steve tugs the brim of his cap a little lower and keeps his face pointed down as far as possible, his eyes tracking a large familiar silhouette across the street. He’s barely visible in the dirty dusk light at this distance, quickly exchanging money for a paper bag from a roadside farm stall. He tips his head, looking around cautiously as he mounts a black motorcycle and rides off.
A tiny smile curls the corner of Steve’s mouth. He’s smart, Steve has been tracking him here for a month but his routine is completely random - always at dawn or dusk but never the same day of the week or the same interval between visits.
“Anything?” Sam asks on the phone a few minutes later.
“He’s too fast to get a tracker on the bike and too skittish to follow.”
“Redwing?” he suggests.
“Maybe, next time. Just gotta make sure it’s a good distance away.”
“Maximum stealth, got it. You comin’ back now?”
“Later tonight, gonna hang around a bit and make sure no one else is following him.”
Steve mounts his motorcycle and starts the engine. Without really deciding on a direction he finds himself headed along a winding road into the woods as it turns into a much narrower dirt track.
This isn’t really where he wants to be as the sun disappears. At a slightly wider area he makes a hard turn back toward town, but something feels off. Steve stops, shuts off the engine to listen. He could swear he heard something through the rustle of the trees above.
Probably an animal.
As he reaches down to turn the key in the ignition, an unforgiving gloved hand closes over his fingers and a firm, warm hand grips his throat.
“What do you want from me?” Bucky hisses in his ear.
“I just want to make sure you’re okay,” Steve replies softly, raising his free hand in surrender.
“I’d be better if I wasn’t being followed,” Bucky says harshly, releasing him.
“Who’s following you?” Steve enquires, stepping away from his bike to look around.
“Christ, you haven’t changed at all.” Bucky rakes a hand through his hair. “You, Steve. You’ve been following me for weeks. You stand out like… like Captain America.”
Steve looks down at his civilian outfit, chosen specifically to be inconspicuous. “Oh.”
“I’m perfectly fine, and I don’t need you drawing attention. Please just leave me be.”
“Buck…”
Bucky sighs and gestures down the track. “If I prove it will you leave me alone?”
“Maybe.”
Bucky smoothly straddles Steve’s motorcycle, starting up the engine as Steve is forced to sit behind him. As they ride down the track and the trees grow thicker, Steve is surprised at the warmth he can feel from the proximity of Bucky’s back. A familiar warmth, long forgotten, that makes him want to lean in and let it consume him.
A few minutes later a hunting shack appears between the trees. As he shuts off the engine they’re plunged into almost pitch black but Bucky finds his way easily to the door, lighting a small oil lamp that casts shadows across the space. There’s a small table in the centre with some fruit and vegetables on a paper bag, a bed in the corner, and a couple of wooden chairs are the only other furniture. What’s immediately noticeable to Steve is the lack of anything other than food that would indicate that someone had been here, except for a backpack sitting on the chair beside the door.
He remembers living like this for years. Being used to having to leave at a moment’s notice, always having his whole life ready to grab with one hand and go. It’s taken Steve so long to feel like he could have clothes in his wardrobe, belongings in drawers and cupboards. Even longer to feel he could own his space, and now that he’s moved into the tower for extra security since the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D… he wishes it felt like home.
Bucky is staring at him expectantly, as though he asked a question and Steve wasn’t listening.
“Are you sure you’re safe here?” Steve asks.
“Safe as I can be, you think there aren’t booby traps all around us?”
“I wouldn’t expect any less.” He looks around as his eyes adjust to the near darkness. “How are you?”
Bucky shakes his head. “We don’t have to do this.”
“Look, I know you’ve been through… I can’t even begin to imagine.”
“Steve, come on. We’re not just going to sit by the fire and share stories until we feel better.”
“You were never one for sharing what’s going on in your head,” Steve says with a smirk. “I just want to know you’re…”
“Stable? Not going to turn back into Hydra’s weapon? I have no idea. And no, talking about feelings isn’t going to help.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“I’m not safe to be around.” Bucky says quietly.
Steve takes a step toward him, closing the gap between them so that he can see the dark flecks in the blue of Bucky’s eyes. “I trust you.”
Bucky swallows. “I don’t.”
Steve wants to spill out everything that races through his mind. He doesn’t care about the years that have passed, having Bucky right here in front of him for the first time is like being back in the alps right before he was lost. The night before they captured Zola’s train, there were so many moments he was pulled to do things his mind said he shouldn’t… and so many times since he’s replayed that long night and wished he hadn’t hesitated.
Now he’s sure he sees the same question in Bucky’s eyes as his own, sees the hesitation and fear that he might be wrong. He leans toward Bucky, slowly in case he pulls away, and Bucky presses his right hand against Steve’s chest as if to stop him. Steve’s stomach sinks and he breaks their gaze just as the fist closes in his shirt and Bucky pulls him in, crashing their lips together.
Steve freezes, terrified that if he moves he’ll break the spell. A few seconds pass before he feels Bucky breathe and relax his grip, and he lets himself lean into the kiss and feel the softness of Bucky’s mouth. It’s gentle and slow, the tip of his tongue exploring his lips and teasing them apart.
For the first time since he can remember, Bucky’s mind stops. There’s nothing except Steve’s scent, his warm mouth, his heart beating fast beneath his fist. Nothing else exists. Steve’s hands find their way to the small of his back, pressing their bodies together.
Steve keeps his eyes closed as Bucky finally pulls back, wanting this moment to last for eternity. Even Bucky’s whisper threatens to shatter the silent bliss.
“Steve, we –”
“Don’t. Don’t talk.”
To Steve’s surprise, Bucky lets out a quiet chuckle, and it’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard.
“Bucky?” he whispers.
“Mm?”
“I don’t want to let go.”
Bucky’s hand cups Steve’s face, his thumb brushing over his jaw as he inspects him as though seeing him for the first time. “So don’t.”
This time Steve doesn’t wait, closing his mouth over Bucky’s and pulling hard against his back so that there’s no air between them. Gradually his hands find their way under the hem of Bucky’s shirt, his fingertips raking against his warm, bare back. Bucky stiffens at his touch at first but is soon arching his back and kissing Steve deeper. He tugs Steve’s shirt up and breaks the kiss long enough to toss it to the floor and trail his fingertips over his chest.
So many times Bucky’s seen Steve like this, but never been so unashamed to touch him, to crave him like he does. To be alone with him now and be able to feel his warm, soft skin is overwhelming.
“Hey,” Steve says gently. He takes Bucky’s right hand and places it firmly on his chest, but Bucky hesitates.
Steve knows, because he feels the same way. Wants everything at once, wants to be inside him and surrounding him at the same time, wants to push Bucky to the brink of ecstasy until he quivers and also be completely at his mercy. And he knows Bucky doesn’t trust himself, because his mind hasn’t been his own for so long.
So Steve takes the lead. He lifts off Bucky’s jacket and shirt, barely noticing the red tendrils around his metal arm as he kisses down one side of his neck, relishing the vibration of Bucky’s deep groan. He forces himself to go slow, gently touching his chest and shoulder, dragging his fingertips down over his stomach to grab the waist of Bucky’s jeans and tug him in for another deep kiss.
Bucky lets Steve lead him to the bed in the corner, which is clearly only meant for one. It reminds him of all the times in Steve’s bedroom as teenagers, where they’d lie beside each other and pretend to only be touching because the bed was so small. Truthfully they’d always found any excuse. There didn’t seem to be a need for one now.
It feels like hours spent exploring each other with lips and hands before finally they’re both naked and intertwined. Steve feels Bucky’s cock leaking onto his leg as they kiss, reaching down to take it in his hand and stroke until Bucky moans loud into the night.
“Slow down,” he whispers, kissing Steve’s neck.
Steve loosens his grip and slows his breathing as Bucky reciprocates, taking Steve’s length in his fist. He immediately understands why Bucky wanted him to go slower, already feeling like he will explode in his palm.
Steve pushes Bucky onto his back, hovering over him as he parts his legs. He lowers his hips until their shafts are against each other, wrapping one hand around them as he moves back and forth. Bucky’s mouth has fallen open in silent ecstasy, his eyes locked with Steve’s as he squeezes Steve’s hips. Steve leans down and kisses him deeply, Bucky’s ragged breath and muffled moans spurring him on. It’s only a few minutes before Steve can’t hold on any longer and starts to rut against him harder, rubbing the sensitive spot on his cock against Bucky’s until he spurts all over his stomach.
As he catches his breath he moves down Bucky’s body, leaving a trail of kisses until he reaches his shaft. He looks up and catches Bucky watching him, keeping eye contact as he takes the tip between his lips and swirls his tongue around it.
“Oh my god,” Bucky moans.
Encouraged, Steve takes him further into his mouth until he hits the back of his throat, sucking hard as he moves his mouth up and down. Within a few seconds Bucky’s legs start to shake.
“Steve, wait…”
He doesn’t stop, just groans around his cock as he feels his hips thrust up to meet him and the first threads of cum coat his tongue. Only then Steve slows, swallowing all that Bucky gives him and releasing him from his lips.
Steve collapses on the pillow beside Bucky, watching his chest heave with a smile. For a long time neither of them speak, and then Steve’s phone shatters the silence.
“Hey, Sam,” he answers, keeping his voice steady as he peers out into the black night.
“Everything okay?” Sam asks.
“Yeah, I um… I found somewhere to stay instead of coming back tonight. Completely slipped my mind to check in, sorry.”
He’s met with silence.
“Everything’s fine.”
“Don’t do anything stupid.” Sam says warily.
Steve smiles at a distant memory. “I’ll check in with you tomorrow.”
When he turns back to Bucky he’s pulled on a pair of pants and is sitting stiffly on the edge of the bed.
“You should go, Steve.”
And just like that the outside world that faded away for a blissful couple of hours comes crashing back in.
“Buck…”
“I don’t need them tracking you here.”
“They won’t, as long as I keep checking in.” He sits beside Bucky but hesitates when he wants to touch him and suddenly feels very naked. “Please trust me.”
“What’s your big plan? Hide out in the woods with me until I turn on you? Commute back and forth and just pretend you never found me?”
“I don’t… There’s no plan. I came to make sure you were okay, and I’ll do whatever you need.”
“This can’t change anything, I’m still a danger to you.”
“I’m not leaving, not tonight at least.” He climbs into the bed behind Bucky and pulls the scratchy woollen blanket up to his waist.
“Still so fucking stubborn,” Bucky mumbles as he shuts off the lamp, kicks off his pants and lies down beside Steve.
That night, for the first time he can remember, Bucky sleeps for a few hours under Steve’s protective gaze. Steve watches his chest rise and fall, his face occasionally contorting in terror, and every time he lays a hand on his bare chest, reminds him he’s safe until his heart slows. For the first time in his life he doesn’t care that he doesn’t have a plan, even though he knows it can’t be as simple as just living out his days here with Bucky. For tonight all he needs is to keep the outside world away, and have Bucky finally rest in his arms.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 31/31
Fandom: British Actor RPF, Actor RPF
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Tom Hiddleston/Original Female Character(s)
Characters: Tom Hiddleston, Olivia Simpson (OFC)
Additional Tags: Grief, loss of former partner, Tom retires from acting, minor character with autism, minor character death in past, Suicide, suicide (hanging)
Summary:
Tom is content working as an assistant at the Donmar Warehouse after stepping away from acting after Coriolanus to spend time with his terminally ill love. Two years after Cora's death will he ever really move on, or has his chance at true love passed?
Follows Broken Little Heart and Remember to Live.
Just casually posted the final 8 chapters of a fic that took me 5 years. 5 years.
No more RPF for me, but lots of Marvel fanfic in the works!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 25/27
Fandom: Actor RPF, American (US) Actor RPF
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Sebastian Stan/Original Female Character(s)
Characters: Sebastian Stan, Jubilee 'Buzz' Edison
Additional Tags: Bipolar Disorder, Depression, Manic Episode, Mental Health Issues, Tattoos, Piercings, Nipple Piercings, Tongue Piercings, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Oral Sex
Summary:
Sebastian meets Buzz in a nightclub and finds that one steamy night just isn’t enough. But is he ready to deal with her demons?
Warnings: Where do I begin? Mental illness (Bipolar), self harm, drug references, piercings, tattoos, mention of suicide in later chapters, realistic description of manic episodes and severe depression, reckless behaviour.
Notes: The rough ride will be worth it ;) Proceed with caution if you have mental illness or self harm triggers, if you’re not sure please ask.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 16/?
Fandom: British Actor RPF, Actor RPF
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Tom Hiddleston/Original Female Character(s)
Characters: Tom Hiddleston, Olivia Simpson (OFC)
Additional Tags: Grief, loss of former partner, Tom retires from acting, minor character with autism, minor character death in past, Suicide, suicide (hanging)
Summary:
Tom is content working as an assistant at the Donmar Warehouse after stepping away from acting after Coriolanus to spend time with his terminally ill love. Two years after Cora's death will he ever really move on, or has his chance at true love passed?
Follows Broken Little Heart and Remember to Live.
I thought long and hard about this post. What to include, what to leave out, whether to say anything at all...
Who are we kidding, I’m a wordy bitch who can’t resist a chance to write.
2018 was kind of a worst of times, best of times, situation for me. I was stressed, overwhelmed, depressed, anxious, in massive amounts of physical and emotional pain, and just generally stuck. I hated myself. On the outside everything was rosy, our daughters were excelling at school, we’d been married almost 10 years and didn’t hate each other, we were doing okay financially and starting to see a dent in the mortgage. At the centre of all of that was me, keeping everyone else happy, making sure the bills were paid, copping all of the meltdowns, and I was slowly dying.
In October I ended my marriage after finally admitting I deserved better, I was worthy of happiness, and I had the strength to cope with the fallout. That meant looking someone in the eye and being honest, facing the devastation of telling him ‘I don’t love you anymore’. I’ve been judged, been told I should have stayed to keep some stability for the kids, had my own family take his side, and yet I’m still happier than I have ever been. I’m about to take on sole responsibility for the mortgage, I have to work full time while still juggling all of the girls’ appointments, and just recently been diagnosed with fibromyalgia. I’ve also come completely off anti depressants for the first time in 8 years and I feel like I can take on the world.
Fittingly, when the clock ticked over to 2019, I was all alone. The girls are splitting their time equally between him and I so even though it was also my birthday they were with him. He has finally been forced to admit he needs help and he’s getting it, and we’re both better parents than we’ve ever been. I was always scared to be alone, to have no one to fall back on, but here I am thriving in it. Turns out I’m actually pretty f*cking awesome.
In the midst of all of that, he tried to find a reason to be angry or some ammunition for the argument I refused to engage in, and found my Tumblr blogs (the Marvel ones, apparently I’d hidden the porn one well enough). There wasn’t time to save anything or make an announcement I just had to hit the delete button and let it all go. Obviously I still have my writing saved, I don’t think I lost anything there, but I won’t be re-posting it all on Tumblr. Instead I will continue updating AO3 and Wattpad and just post the links here. I’ve carved myself out some writing time and I’d rather use it for writing than posting to 3 different platforms.
Hopefully that explains the change of name and where all of my work went. I will slowly get all of the one-shots either up here or on AO3 over the next few weeks/months (I have also changed my username on AO3 to match this one and will probably do the same on Wattpad).
I won’t give up that easily, and there’s no way I can leave the fics unfinished.
If you’ve read this far, congratulations. And from what I’ve seen while I was on a forced hiatus, congratulations all round for the blogs who managed to survive!
Told you I’m a wordy bitch. Back to the fanfic / smut / angst!
