"How Can You Forget Sticky Notes, They're Right On Your Desk! Right In Front Of You! Are You A Toddler

"How can you forget sticky notes, they're right on your desk! Right in front of you! Are you a toddler with no concept of object permanence?"

No I'm just ADHD and the Brain Noises are at such a constant cacophony it's like there's a 500 player orchestra constantly playing and each instrument is playing a different songs at the same time in my head that I most importantly can't shut off.

Try remembering a sticky note exists when the trumpets are blasting star wars, the violins are playing never gonna give you up, the flutes are playing livin la vida loca and the drums think they're a christmas marching band.

"Surely it's not that much input!"

I am at my desk in my bedroom right now. I hear my parents talking in the other room, my cat snoring behind me, the water was turned on and off in the kitchen, the fan is running, the ac is on, there's shuffling of slippers, I can smell my candle, I heard a car go by, the computer is buzzing and it's fan is running, I can hear the fishtank in the other room because my bedroom door is open. The clicking of the keyboard is satisfying but loud. I look up and see everything on my desk. I taste the hot coco i just ate, I hear the fridge beeping, I heard my stomach make a Noise, my over the ear headphones make a soft shhhh sound wqhen they're not playing music, my tinnitus rings constantly, my neck crackled when I looked to the left.

That input DOESN'T SHUT OFF.

Y'all with executives that can function? They're in a nice quiet boardroom with pretty windows and a quiet meeting.

MY executives are forest critters in ties and glasses meeting in the Denny's parking lot at 4am to go over peanut butter recipes and that song we heard when we were 8 and can't EVER let go. What important stuff happened today? I dunno, the raccoon disguised as the board meeting leader ATE the file.

“hes just some guy” have you SEEN his boobs?????

by gtr.photography_

With eyes like the sea after a storm- Bucky Barnes x reader

<3

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There were many things about him that you admired, many things you studied. If you had to guess, you would assume the god’s above has sculpted him in their own image. As if he was a replica of the best statue, or the brightest summer day. He, of course, has his own imperfections. Things he dispises about himself. Who doesn’t? 

It was moments such as these, that you almost wished you hadn’t met. For if you hadn’t, maybe he’d still be who he once was. A bright eyed young man, his life ahead of him. Not a forlorn shell of himself, locked in a barred room. 

It had happened so fast, you couldnt even be sure how. 

You had both been tasked on taking down a hydra base in the darkened woods of Maine. The kind of tree cover that blocks sunlight on a summers day. Neither of you had been thrilled about this task, but at least it would be quick. Or so you thought. 

The plan was to get in, get the needed information, and get out before the bombs you were set to rig exploded. To you, it seemed overly simple. After everything else you’d faced, it wasn’t something that you thought would weigh on your mind as the jet took flight. You sat across from him, watching as his eyes scanned the pages of a book he was reading. 

You were a collector of sorts, being a Stark allowed this. Many would assume those who hold the Stark name would posses collections of cars and jewels. Houses and estates. This however, was not who you were. The items you possess are often seen as small, or insignificant. But each holds its own stories. One of the many things you collected were books. Hell, a whole corner of your room in the tower was simply bookshelves. The shelves rose so high, that Tony had given you a small ladder that could roll across the linolium flooring and help you reach the top shelves. 

When Bucky had first joined the team, you were hesistant to approach him. He seemed closed off and distant. Who were you to push those walls? It wasnt until you ran into him as he entered the building, a stack of books in his arms, that you had decided he was much more than he seemed. From that point, you made it a priority to talk to him. To include him. At first, it seemed as though he was resistent. As if he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. For you to say you were kidding. After all, someone like you couldn’t really care about someone like him. Could you?

After taking notice of his love for books, you invited him to use your little library. Letting him know he was welcome to take whatever he wanted. He had thanked you, and the topic shifted. From that, you had assumed your offer would go unnoticed. Until one night, around 1am, as the rain pounded against the large glass windows in your room, there was a small knock at the door. Soft, so soft. As if knocking any harder would shatter the night. You were too comfortable in your bed to get up, simply speaking a soft, “Come in.”

There he was. In a regular tshirt and some shorts. What was really the most revealing thing you had seen him wear. He stood for a moment, hesistant in the doorway, until you laid your book to rest on your lap. Softly beckoning for him to enter. He did, as he softly shut the door behind him.

He didn’t speak much that night, simply grabbing a few books and sitting down on the lush carpet by the shelves. The thin sheer of the night was so soft, you resisted offering him a place on your bed. Although he hadn’t said much of anything, you knew something was wrong. Being intuitive had its perks. 

After a few hours, when the rain subsided and your eyes grew heavy with sleep, the restraint you had was broken. 

“Are you okay?” You whispered softly, watching as his head quickly snapped up in your direction. His look one of question and uncertainty. “Yeah.” He said softly, his voice gravely from unuse. “You’re a shit liar.” His eyes widened at your blunt comment, unused to such from you, who often remained quiet and watched, rather than speak out. The exhaustion had distorted your view of the persona you often maintained. The blunt thoughts of your mind slipping through. “You don’t have to tell me. But you’ve been reading the same page for the last 20 minutes.” Your tone was soft and unaccusing, an air of light humor. Something he wasn’t used to. There was silence for a moment, the haze you were in not rushing you to fumble an apology as usual. 

“Just..” He paused, seeming to hesistate in his momentary vulnerability. “Just a nightmare.” His voice was quiet and soft, almost a whisper. If the room hadn’t been so silent, you may not have heard it. 

All was still for a moment, before you sat up farther, leaning against the headboard. Softly patting the spot on your bed next to you. He looked from your hand to your face, unmoving. 

A few minutes, although they felt like hours, passed. Before he slowly rose and softly walked over, sitting on the side of the bed opposite to you. From your viewpoint, you studied the ridges on his back that were visible through the worn fabric. Noticing how tense he was, as If you were going to reach out and strike him for being so foolish as to sit beside you. 

“It’s okay. You can relax.” Your voice was soft, and quiet. His back slowly untensing as he turned slowly and looked at you. He studied your face, seeming to look for any hint of amusement or untruth. He was simply met by a small smile and tired eyes. 

The rest of the night was a blur. You eventually fell asleep. Waking up at around 5 as the sun began to show over the horizon. Attempting to stretch out, finding your movements restricted, you glanced down. He had fallen asleep at some point aswell, his head resting on the plush of your thigh, as one of your many plush blankets covered his upper half. You tensed for a moment, taken aback by this. ‘He fell asleep on me?’ Your furrowed brow turned to a small smile as you noticed the soft look of his face. Fully relaxed and content. A form you had never seen him take.

From that point, the two of you grew closer. Eventually becoming the closest of friends, and even stronger teammates. Even your brother Tony was quick to tease you about this, his inclination to despising the man strangely vacant. You couldn’t help but wonder who paid him off. And yet, although you denied any romance, reminding him platonic relationships existed, he simply giggled and left. Yes. Giggled.

Which led you back to the current moment, watching his blue eyes scan the pages. If there was one thing you couldn’t get enough of, it was his eyes. They were so blue and so soft. They reminded you of the sea after a storm. The hue sometimes changed. Sometimes they were darker, like an evening sky. Sometimes lighter, like a cool backyard pool in the midst of summer. Eye contact was not something you enjoyed. It was something that required effort, and attention. In the midst of remembering to hold it, not hearing what the other person said. This had happened with him many times, but not for that reason. You had simply lost yourself in his eyes. You often felt like you might sink and drown if you stared long enough, but you were never given the chance to test that theory. He would often noticed your silence and stare, assuming you were upset with him and quickly go quiet. You never noticed this, simply blinking as he looked away and continuing the conversation. You missed the look the shot your way, wondering if maybe, just maybe, you didn’t have any ulterior motive. You really were just looking at him. 

He seemed to feel your eyes on him, baby blues flicking up to meet yours. He raised an eyebrow, and you coughed and looked away slightly. Feeling your cheeks burn with the embarrassment of being caught. “Everything okay?” He said softly, his words guiding your gaze back to his. You nodded quietly. Prompting him to set his book down beside him, resting his chin on his hand, leaning forward on his knees. “You’re a shit liar.” You looked up, seeing a small smirk cross his features and you giggled quietly at his remark. 

“Just- nervous. I guess.” You started quietly, the only sound the whirring of the jets as your shoes tapped idly against the cool metal of the floor. He watched, patiently waiting for you to continue. “Its just- its been so long since I’ve been on one of these Hydra missions. I thought I was over…you know..all of it. This should be easy. But I’m just scared that-“ You stopped, your gaze flicking to his before to the floor again. “That?” He said softly. “They’ll get us. Again.” You whispered. “I can’t- I can’t go back. I’ve got too much to lose.” You looked up, expecting judgement. One of the strongest avengers, afraid of a little hydra mission? Pathetic.

But you werent met with judgement, or humor. Simply a sad, understanding smile. “I get that.” He said softly, shifting to sit back in his seat. “But you know Steve wouldn’t have let us go if he didn’t think we’d be okay.” You nodded softly at his words. 

Steve being like a big brother to you, as strange as it was, of course wouldn’t put you in a compromising situation. But there was always a what-if. 

“We don’t have to go.” Your head shot up, your eyes meeting his. “What?” He shrugged. “I don’t know. Its not like they couldn’t find someone else to do it.” You shook your head. “No. I- I want to.” He raised an eyebrow, before sighing and picking up his book once again. “If you say so.”

The rest of the ride was silent, your eyes now looking out the small window beside you. Watching the clouds pass by. From there, your mind settled slightly. Like dust in the desert after a breeze. The jet landed, you both exited and managed to get into the base rather easily. It having been abandoned for years, the locks weren’t the most up to date. You had managed to get to the main control room within a few minutes. This being where the computers with the data you needed to collect resided. Bucky wandered around the room as you got into the computer, inserting the USB and downloading the needed materials. In your focus, you hadn’t noticed he’d gone quiet.  

“Annnddd done. We should be good to go.” You placed the USB in your pocket, zipping it closed. “You know, for such an advanced group the computers sure are-“ You paused, turning around and noticing his position. He stood, ridged as he stared through a glass pane. You walked up beside him, looking through to see a containment chamber of some sort. “Whats that?” You whispered, eyes not leaving the large chair in the middle of the room. Some time passed before you noticed he hadn’t asnwered. “Bucky? You okay?” You turned, noticing the distant gaze on his features. There was no expression, and his once bright blue eyes were now almost grey. “Hey, are you-“ You reached up, gently touching his shoulder as you spoke. In a flash he was on you. His whole body turning as he slammed you into the wall, holding you in place with his metal hand on your throat. You gasped, clawing at him to no avail. “Buck-‘ You wheezed, before instinctively using your abilities to instinctively throw him off you across the room. You gasped, hand going to your throat on instinct. It was sore already, no doubt going to be bruised. You noticed him standing, turning and making his way back towards you. You placed your hands out infront of you, backing up slowly towards the door. “Bucky. Its me. Cmon whats wrong?” His gaze was cold and distant as he made wide steps towards you. It was then you realized, he wasn’t going to stop. Turning and running down the hall, quickly hearing him behind you. You were fast, but he was a super soldier. You started to use your enhancements to slam the doors behind you, buying some time as he slammed them down effortlessly. You managed to get out of the base, hand on the detonation for the bombs. You heard the last door slam down, watching as he stalked out of the doors. Directly towards you. “Bucky. Cmon. I’m not gonna fight you.” He didn’t stop, your words ricocheting off him. You quickly glanced over at the jet. Maybe if you could contain him you could- 

Before the thought had even met your nervous system to prompt movement, he was on you. 

In the two seconds you glanced away he had somehow broken the 15 foot seperation, knocking you to the ground. He sat above you, his hips holding you down. He punched you a few times, luckily using his flesh hand, before you realized what was happening. Sending him flying a few yards away, as you stood and wiped the blood from your face. F.R.I.D.A.Y quickly speaking up through your suit. “Ms. Stark. It appears you are injured. Should I inform Tony of the mission failure?” You coughed. “No. Don’t. I’ve got this.” It was silent for a moment before she responded, “Of course.” 

You would not make the mistake of giving Tony an excuse to hurt Bucky. He already hated him, you weren’t going to give him more ammunition. 

As Bucky once again stalked towards you, you realized he wasn’t going to stop. Waiting until he was a few feet away before speaking a soft, “I’m sorry.” Quickly acting and slamming him backwards onto the ground, holding his limbs down with the grey tendrils of your power. Straddling him quickly as he continued to blindly struggle, before reaching down, using your middle and pointer finger to tap against his temple. He stopped struggling, his eyes glowing the same color as the bounds that held him. You stood, releasing him and beginning to walk to the jet. “Cmon.” He followed blindly, his mind yours. This was the last thing you wanted to do, but you couldn’t get him to the jet alone. And you weren’t going to fight him. 

You walked up the ramp, as he sat on the seat infront of you. You reached into the console and grimaced as you pulled out the metal cuffs. Attaching one to his metal wrist, and one to the metal pole beside him, before removing yourself from his mind. Stepping back as the jet took flight, and his eyes cleared. There was a moment of silence as you detonated the explosives, destroying the facility as it faded into the distance behind you.

He took in a gasping breath, looking around wildly as he mindlessly struggled against the cuff. He quickly noticed you, stopping and staring. You watched his eyes flick across your face, and eventually down to your throat. Where you assumed bruises were forming. Subconsciously, you put you hand up, covering them. You took a soft step forward, freezing as he flinched back. “Hey..hey its just me.” He stared at you, his blue eyes glassy but clear. “You’re okay..” You attempted to move forward again, only for him to try and escape into his seat. Causing you to freeze again, and step back. You tilted your head, your own eyes glassy as your brow furrowed. 

“I..I did that. Didn’t I?” He said softly, looking to your face and neck. You opened your mouth to respond before he yelled, startling you. “FUCK.” You jumped back, eyes wide, never having heard him yell before, much less speak above a soft tone. “Hey its okay I’m-“ He shook his head visciously. “No. No. No. You’re not okay.” His eyes flicking to yours before looking away shamefully. “God I’m so selfish.” You furrowed your brows waiting for him to continue. “I- I’m so sorry. This is my fault. I never wanted to get close enough to hurt you. This g-“ He paused breathing deeply. “This arm. God. I’ve never hated it more.” You went to comfort him, before you noticed how erratic his breathing had gotten. His eyes grew wild as he struggled to breathe. You noticed how it was beginning to get worse. Shit. He was having a panic attack. You choked back a sob as you waved your hand softly, and he fell asleep. Falling limp against the pole beside him.

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Hours later, he awoke with a start. Instinctually attempting to flee, before the large metal restraints that held him to the bed became visible to his clouded mind. He managed to sit, as the cuffs held a strange amount of extra chain, even allowing his hand to reach his face as he roughly forced the sleep from his eyes. It was obvious his comfort was a factor in this. His eyes flickered like a dim candle across the small room he was in. It seemed to be some sort of containment cell, although he’d never seen such a thing with flowers on the table beside him. The bright colors seemed to almost cause him to cower away, like a bat in the bright summer sun. He was unsure how long his gaze had torn them apart, but he knew the sunflowers each had 34 petals. Sunflowers… and daisies. It clicked suddenly, sunflowers. Your favorite. Daisies… Both of which grew in the small garden you had on one of the community floors of the compound. A dagger of pain shot through him at the memories of before his fall to unconsciousness. The bruises across your neck like dark patches of blood across a satin sheet. Oh God, could the stains ever be removed? 

The hallway was silent as a snowy winter night in the mountains as you walked. Sock-clad feet silent against the icy tile floor as the steps taken held a force of uncertainty, and pressure. Approaching the door felt like walking through a hurricane as the force of the thoughts in your head swirled like a tornado through a vacant home. As the door clicked open slowly, the painful vision of the blue eyed man before you caused a pause. At the sound of the door opening, abeit mostly silent, his eyes shot to meet yours. Expecting a scientist or some sort of experimental doctor, instead, landing on your soft gaze as you enter and softly clicked the door closed behind you. As your feet carried you forward, his body pushed back into the bed. Like a wild animal, afraid. Steps paused, soft hands coming up in surrender. “What’re-“ He paused, eyeing you. “What’re you doing here?” The tone his words carried like a spear through your soul. Defeated, confused, mourning.

“I came to check on you… I wanted to apologize.” He laughed, loudly. The sudden loud noise like a gunshot in the silent of the night, as it ricocheted off the metal walls. “Apologize?” He said almost angrily. “To me?” His face was a mix of sadness and anger as his eyes met yours. They were a deeper blue now, almost like the depths of the ocean. The silence of your stare unnerved him as he looked away, eyes cast back to the flowers beside his bed. “You shouldn’t have cut these-“ His eyes turned back, expecting to find you halfway out the door. Instead, seeing you beside the bed. You both stared silently for a moment that seemed to stretch into eons. “I’m sorry.” The whisper from your lips sounded more like a scream to him. “I’m sorry I went into your head. I swore I never would.” The anger drained from his face, like watercolor on a canvas. “I didn’t want to put you in here.” Your eyes cast around the room disapprovingly. “I knew you’d wake up fine..but Tony-“ you cut yourself off, glancing at him before looking back down. “He sees me for what I really am.” He says flatly, “A monster to be contained.” The strings binding your heart seemed to loosen at his words, moving closer. “Don’t say that.” You whispered, reaching for his hand as he pulled back. “But it’s true. I hurt you. I could’ve KILLED you. Don’t you get it? I’m a monster. I’m not redeemable.” He said, looking down as his voice faded into the silence. “I don’t think there’s much I can say to change your mind now…but please, don’t blame yourself. None of this is, or has ever been, your fault. You’re a good man Buck. Everything that happened to you was not by your own volition.” Your hand manages to reach towards his metal one, he doesn’t bother to resist as you move it closer to you, resting your face against the cool metal. “This hand is not a weapon, and neither are you. See? Is anything happening?” The undying chill of the metal glides against your face as he slowly moves it, staring as if seeing it for the first time. “We’re gonna figure this out buck.” His eyes flick to yours as he jolts forward, the chains holding him back. Your eyes take in his defeated form, standing and touching the chains as they come undone like a loose string. His broken eyes meeting yours as you stand, as if nothing could touch you. As if he wasn’t able to snap your neck in a second. He lurches forward again, this time unhindered by the chains as his arms wrap around your waist as he pulls his head towards your torso. Your hand automatically finds placement at his back, as your fingers run through his hair. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you doll.” He says quietly, his voice soft and broken as water stains your clothes. “Just existing is enough.”

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I’ve read over this too many times and i feel as though it’s not the best, but it’s self indulgent at heart.

All the love- A. <3

-i do not give permission for my work to be copied, translated, or posted anywhere but here on this post.

"Kento...can I...can I paint you?"

Kento glanced back over his shoulder, sleepy, to where you sat massaging knots out of his back. He didn't know why he'd bothered perusing his shelves beforehand; your hands had moulded and made him heavy, and he sunk, unbidden, his book forgotten and his eyelids made of lead, groaning in bliss.

Your eyes traced Kento's back...his arms...his hands. All ripped and reformed, broken and made stronger, the scars (both old and new), criss-crossing him, his life-story turned roadmap.

At some points, Kento's body seemed as though it would last centuries and end up in a museum somewhere, with futuristic admirers who did not know him as you did. At other points, he was just a porcelain man, full of cracks, to be handled with care lest he break.

Kento hummed; a cover-all rumble, unsure.

"...paint me?" He teased, a coy half-smile on the corner of his mouth. "Like one of your French girls?"

You laughed, kissing his shoulder blades, still stroking those seams of pink flesh with your fingertips. He shuddered, the hairs on the base of his undercut standing on end.

"Not quite...do you trust me?"

"Yes." No hesitation.

"Then just...close your eyes."

Kento huffed through his nose, leaning forwards on his elbows and clasped calloused hands. He heard you rattling around behind him, the tap running, the soft dompf of you resettling on the sofa. More rattling, and your quiet voice.

"Stay still..."

Kento jumped, shivering as the tip of a fine, wet brush licked at the skin on his shoulder blade. He hummed again, dubious.

"Oh...you meant paint me."

"Semantics."

"Bless you."

You laughed at his gentle idiocy. "Keep still."

In truth, as your brush traced idle patterns over his shoulder, his arm, and his hand, Kento didn't need to be told to keep his eyes closed even once. He meant it when he said he trusted you; and he meant it when your presence rocked him to sleep. Time lost meaning as he dozed, sat like The Thinker as you finally removed your brush from his hand.

"There. All done."

Kento opened his eyes...to art.

Patches of the back of his hand had been brushed matte with a soft jade green, fading out against peach flesh. Through the jade, where pink seams had once scored the skin, they now ran golden, liquid beauty joining the edges of his pain and history. And it was...lovely.

Kento swallowed thickly, laid bare beneath your eyes. He gently flexed his hand, seeing how the green and gold flexed with him, held together by your very own repairs. He tracked more and more patches up his forearm, his bicep, over his shoulder...

Kento was quiet, stoic, vulnerable. He whispered, as you took lamplit photos of your work. "I adore you."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Christmas had come and gone, and still, Kento did not allow you to touch him as he once did.

The air between you was as taut as the flesh of his left side. You washed the dishes, and he dried, kept company only by the hush of the taps and clink of the plates. Kento reached for a mug with his left hand, and, numb-fingered, dropped it with a spitting curse, to where it shattered beyond repair around your feet.

Barefoot, and pausing with an oh!, you lifted your foot as if to move, and Kento berated you, growling, snapping.

"Stay where you are."

"Kento, it's alright, I'll get it--"

"No. It's my mess. My fault. Sit down."

"Really, it's fine--" Your words cut off with a squeak, as one strong arm looped around your waist. Kento grunted as he lifted you out of the shards with ease, to his body, only to drop you to safety the moment your hands began to brush his bare chest.

"Sit down." Kento rumbled, dark and sullen, his one good eye glowering at you beside the patch. You prickled, rejected. You refused to sit. Watching Kento, as he finished vacuuming, your eyes drifted without thought between him, and your paint set in the chest beneath the kitchen cabinet.

On his way over to the sofa, Kento spotted you, and scoffed, hissing with pain as he dropped himself to sit. He sneered, nasty.

"Sorry, my love. Not enough gold in that box to repair me."

You gritted your teeth, your mouth twisted in disgust, tears in your eyes. You pushed your chair away in a tearful rage, and padded over to Kento, fast, determined.

The briefest flicker of alarm crossed his half-burned face as you straddled him, trapping him to the sofa with a hand on each cheek. You spat, forcing him to see you, gripping him down as he writhed to get away.

"Then I'll break into palaces. I'll rob museums. I'll be a thief in the night. Because they don't deserve it, not like you do."

Kento cursed at you, twisting like a rat in a trap, and you held on tighter, sick of being pushed away, and you forced the words out of you as tears spilled over to drop onto his chest.

"And if there's not enough gold there then I'll melt myself down, but you don't need gold because you're not broken--"

"--get off me-- let me go--"

"No." You cried, looping your arms around his neck, your core pressed to his. The air stilled, his rejection rejected.

You panted, your shoulders heaving, weeping into his neck. Kento and you sat this way in silence, the tap still running and forgotten, your sniffles muffled into his neck. You felt him soften, his hands coming to rest on your hips, stroking you.

Kento's voice was thick, agonised. "You...deserve someone whole."

"I don't want them. They're nothing to me. It's you, or no-one."

Kento's teeth bared, his face stinging as it crumpled, salty tears washing away the grief. He gripped onto you, the fracture not breaking under stress; the bond, golden.

And when you finally did paint him, how he shone.