#《 I want to leave it vague as to why Frost did this because I want Aurelius to learn it through Sharde instead of exposition 》

[first-frost-fallen-snow]

Memories of sorrow

/* for... Bukidai, Zahir, Frost... One of the ones Aurelius interacted with (I miss my silly) */

《 TW for self harm, suicide, being impaled. Not graphic, but still deserves warning 》

Some sort of magic had befallen the general. That wasn't news. Dark magic had surrounded him for most of his life. But this was different. He had hunted Aurelius down on his own, ignoring Zahir's advice. Gripping Aurelius' arm to drag him away from the encampment Bukidai brought him to proved to be a mistake.

Frozen in place, General Sharde found himself in a memory he had spent years trying to forget. A blizzard made the world around him hazy, two figures stood on the edge of a cliff. No. No. He didn't want to remember this.

"Frost!" Floris revealed themself to be the figure further from the ledge. Frost was the one staring down towards the endless abyss below.

"You don't want to see this." Frost seemed to control the weather, a shift of his stance causing the snowfall to suddenly still, as if time had stopped.

"What are you-.. Frost, please. Get back on the ship." Floris insisted, stepping closer to Frost.

"You don't understand what's happening to me, Flare! You don't understand what I have to do!" The snow turned to hail, showering down onto them. Sharp ice cut through Frost's skin, sparing Floris entirely.

"Stop this-.. Frost, you're not well. I can help you. Come on-.. we've always been there for eachother, let me help you.." When Floris moved to step closer, Frost quickly moved his hand to summon sharp ice from the ground. He didn't hurt them, no, this was about protecting them. He turned away, letting out the breath he'd been holding. It puffed into the air, and for a moment, he could remember being a child pretending to breathe fire.

Those were simpler times. If only he could go back to then. Closing his exhausted eyes, he could invision playing with Floris on the streets before they were torn to pieces. He just wanted to rest.

Floris' words were deafened to him now, their desperation unable to compete with what he believed to be his destiny. He was chosen by Karithan for a reason.

General Sharde let out a horrified cry alongside Floris when he saw his younger self strike himself through the heart with ice. The spike came from the ground, piercing him through the back and exiting his chest. The power of it pushed him forward, making him dangle off of the cliff.

The memory didn't stop there. Frost, or rather, Sharde was still alive. As the ice crumbled, he fell.

His body was lifeless, and yet... something surrounded him. Darkness. A being that wasn't supposed to exist in this time. It consumed him. By the time he hit the ground, he was something else entirely. A monster.

Slowly, the new body picked itself up. It had remnants of Frost, yet it was more beast than man. It surveyed its surroundings, limping towards a random direction.

Sharde yanked away from Aurelius, his breaths heavy and labored. The machinery forged into his decaying body wheezed and buckled against itself as he tried to grapple with what he saw. Scrambling away like a frightened child, he found himself terrified of the person he'd been trying to hunt down and kill.

He brought his hand to his chest, gripping at it as if to make sure his heart remained beating. Like a cowering beast, his eyes kept focused on Aurelius as if he'd been beaten by him. It didn't matter that Sharde was, by all accounts, all powerful. Such a memory shook him to his core, forcing the small remains of Frost to grapple with what he'd become.

[natalievoncatte]

“Lena, you’re coming with us.”

She looked up sharply as Alex stormed into her office, followed by a dozen DEO goons and a flustered, apologetic Jess as she flipped rapidly between apologizing to Lena for permitting the intrusion and shouting at Alex to get out, only to be ignored.

“Jess, it’s fine,” Lena said, calmly, though her heart was racing. “I’ll hear what they have to say.”

“Cover the entrances,” Alex told her men.

Even when balaclavas over their faces and goggles, Lena could sense their unease. The one who was unmasked -Lena vaguely remembered she was named Vazquez- gave Alex a plaintive, pained look before stepping out. The doors hissed shut behind them, and Alex was alone with her.

“We don’t have time for you to be argumentative.”

“What horrific crime did I commit this time?

“I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m taking you into protective custody.”

Lena put down her phone.

“What?”

Alex produced a tablet from the bag on her thigh and stormed over, hitting play on a video.

It was Lex. Lena’s stomach dropped.

“Hello, Director Danvers,” said Lex. “I hope this message finds you well, because none of you are going to be well much longer.”

A thought hit Lena like a freight train: If I’m in danger, where’s Kara? Even now Kara would drop everything, risk everything, to keep her from harm.

Lex opened a velvet box and drew out a small device. Lena recognized it and felt her gorge rising. It was another disperser, but something was wrong. The crystal within glowed a deep, scintillating red, like a hot coal drawn from a fire.

“Remember this?” said Lex. “You and the rest of this world are about to learn what happens when you trust an alien.”

“What the fuck?” Lena blurted. “He can’t be alive.”

Alex shook her head.

Lex slammed his fist down, and Alex turned it off.

“Well worry about your brother later. He spread red kryptonite into the atmosphere. We can’t find Kara and she’s not responding to our hails. We have to take anyone she might come after into secure custody where she can’t sense you and we have to go now.”

“But…”

“This shit drives her insane,” Alex snapped, seizing Lena’s shoulders. “The last time she was exposed she threw Cat Grant off a building. She almost killed me. ME, Lena.”

A cold flush ran down her limbs, as if she’d been thrown into the cold sea, and panic surged from deep down inside. The last time Lena had seen Kara it had been through Kryptonite-frosted crystal before she abandoned her in the fortress of solitude.

“Part of me wants to leave you here and let you get what you deserve,” Alex said, coldly, “but we are going to fix her and when we do she’d never forgive me for letting you get hurt. Even now she won’t let go of her feelings for you. She keeps talking about saving you.”

Lena swallowed hard. “Her what?”

“Lena, get up. For once in your life just cooperate and do what you’re fucking told before…”

Boot heels thudded on the balcony and dread could tight in Lena’s gut. It was a futile gesture but she stood anyway as Alex stepped between them.

The door was locked, but Kara didn’t care. She threw the door open, sending the lock mechanism flying across the room and cracking the bomb-proof glass on the process. Alex pulled her alien pistol and aimed it at Kara’s head.

“Don’t make me hurt you, Kara. I won’t let you do something you regret.”

Kara stared at her with bloodshot eyes, the ocean blue irises turned a bruise purple as red flashes danced across the whites, like the setting sun chasing across frosted snow. She moved with a languid, inhuman grace, at once casual and as menacing as a predator stalking prey that had no means of escape.

“Hello, Lena.”

“Kara,” Alex warned. “I know you’re in there. Come back with me.”

Kara ignored her, sweeping her aside with an outstretched arm. Alex went flying, crashing into the doors with a grunt, rolling to the ground unmoving.

“Kara,” Lena said calmly, backing away. “You hurt Alex.”

“I know.”

“Why are you doing this?”

Kara smiled at her, but there was none of her usual joy, her usual mirth, only a cold, vicious baring of teeth. Lena thumped against her bookcase and a model of the HMS victory that Lex gave her after he finished it toppled from the self.

Kara caught it and returned it to its place. She thrust her hands out, bracketing Lena as she leaned in, trapping her. Lena’s heart was pounding.

“You’re scared,” Kara said, “I can taste it in your pheromones. Did you know I can do that? I can sense your skin’s electrical impedance and see the heat bloom in your flesh and hear your heartbeat. If I focus very very hard I can hear brainwaves.”

“I didn’t know that,” Lena said, shocked at the smooth calm in her own voice.

“I knew it was a lie the whole time. I knew it was a lie from the night at the Pullitzer gala, when you really started loathing me.”

“Then why did you-“

“I didn’t want it to be a lie!” Kara snapped, jolting Lena as she pressed into the bookcase. “I wanted it to be real. I wanted finally be free of the pain of hiding myself from you.”

Behind them, Alex groaned as she sat up, staring at them with a thin trickle of blood running from her nose.

“Kara,” Lena said, very softly. “I can see that you’re sick . Let me help you. I can purge the red Kryptonite from your system in my lab.”

“Why would I want to purge it?”

“You hurt Alex. You love Alex.”

“Do I?”

“Yes,” said Lena. “You’re good, Kara. You’re so good. You’re the kindest, most merciful-“

“I’m tired of being kind!” Kara shouted, stinging her ears. “I’m tired of being nice. I’m tired of taking bullets for people! Just because they don’t inure me doesn’t mean they don’t hurt!”

“I didn’t know that either,” Lena whispered. “I thought…”

“You thought nothing hurts me,” Kara said, leaning in close, so close her breath tickled Lena’s lips. “But you hurt me. You hurt more than anything. More than your brother, more than Reign, more than the clone. Dying don’t hurt as much as you hurt me.”

Lena spared Alex a glance. She was lying against the doors, holding her belly. She met Lena’s gaze levelly and Lena knew in an instant the danger she was in and the terrible truth.

She was the only one who could stop Kara.

“I know,” said Lena. “I know I did and it felt good when I was doing it.”

“Lena!” Alex gasped, “are you fucking crazy?”

“It felt good,” Lena said, trying to force the trembling out of her voice and failing. “It felt so good to lash out. I wanted to hurt someone. I want to hurt everyone. I wanted everyone to feel what I’m feeling. Especially you. I bet it felt a lot like what you’re feeling now.”

Kara’s eyes were wild with fury, moments from kindling the red-sun fire that would wipe Lena from existence.

“I never stopped believing in you,” said Kara. “I’m the only reason you’re not in a cell beneath a secret desert compound. All this time I’ve defended you and believed in you and protected you.”

“All this time?” Lena snapped back, fury kindling behind the terror, chasing it back as a fire’s light chases the dark.

She was Lena Luthor. She wasn’t going to die afraid.

“You mean all this time when you accused me of conspiring against you? When you suddenly turned cold to me after telling me how you believed in me? When you made my boyfriend spy on me and destroyed my relationship?”

Lena’s hands released the shelves she’d been strangling in twin death grips.

“I… I…”

“How was I supposed to react to learning that you were both people? After what you did? You should punish me, Kara. I’m a murderer.”

Alex gasped, eyes darting from Kara to Lena.

“I killed my brother for you,” Lena said, very softly. “I killed him because I had to. Because you never would. I’m not a hero like you. I’d do it again. I’d do it all again for you. Now I find out he’s still alive. I may have to. I will. I’ll make sure he’s dead this time!”

Kara blinked, her eyes steaming from the heat inside her as tears ran down her cheeks.

“It hurts,” Kara whispered. “It hurts seeing the truth. It hurts to know what I did.”

“I know how much it hurts,” Lean said, bringing her hands to cup Kara’s face lightly. She was shaking, feverish, her skin almost uncomfortably hot. Lena felt a touch of rising panic and forced it down.

“It hurts knowing that I broke up you and James on purpose. It hurts knowing why. It hurts that even now I can’t say it, I’m too scared.”

“I’m supposed to want you and not him,” Lena said.

Kara jerked back slightly, her eyes going wide. It was an admission without words, a confession to a crime she’d already admitted. She pressed her eyes shut and the tears flowed anyway.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know,” said Lena. “It hurts, doesn’t it? The anger.”

“Yes,” said Kara. “It burns. It’s burning me up. I can feel it in my chest, like it’s turning my ribs to cinders.”

Lena nodded. “I came back for you.”

“What?”

“I came back for you. I went back to the Fortress. I was as going to let you out, accept the consequences of what I’d done, but Alex must have already found you.”

“She did.”

“She always takes care of you, doesn’t she?”

Kara blinked. “Yes.”

“It hurt the most then,” said Lena, “knowing that I’d made my choice and I couldn’t take it back. I planned it all for months. I lost myself in how good it would feel to make you suffer like I’m suffering. Then when I did it there was nothing. No joy. No catharsis. I just felt hollow.”

Lena sighed. “I fucked up. I ruined my life.”

She flinched as Kara’s too-warm hand brushed her cheek, her thumb grazing lightly over her chin.

“I would forgive you any trespass. I would never hurt you,” she said, even as she trembled with rage.

“I know,” said Lena.

“Part of me wants to.”

“I know. Kara, let me help you. Please. You’re sick.”

Kara looked at her and Lena wondered what was going through her head. Did she think it was all a manipulation, a ploy? Would she lose it and snap Lena’s neck, or whip her head with a burst of heat vision and burn them all?

“Okay,” Kara breathed.

Lena reached over and pulled the book on her shelf that opened with direct elevator to her private lab. It was a touch melodramatic, but hell, it was he office.

She gave Alex a glance, waiting for the nod before she stepped inside with Lena.

They rode down in silence. Kara fell back on Lena’s exam table and closed her eyes as Lena placed the device on Kara’s chest. The House of El rune on the machine glowed as it recalibrated itself and began purging the radiation from her system.

Lena knew it was working when Kara began to weep, her face twisting in a grimace of towering grief. When it was done, Lena carefully removed the device and brushed loose strands of hair from Kara’s eyes and gently wrapped her arms around her. Kara buried her face in Lena’s neck and sobbed, shaking the table with the fury of her sorrow.

“I didn’t mean it,” she whimpered.

“I know,” Lena whispered, smoothing a hand over her head. “I know.”

“Is Alex…”

“She’ll be fine, her people have already taken her to the L-Corp infirmary. She’s fine.”

Kara’s voice was almost childlike. “Did I hurt you?”

Lena closed her eyes. “Yeah. You hurt me. It’s okay, darling. It’s going to be okay.”

Kara’s arms looped around her, tentatively. When Lena didn’t push her back, Kara relaxed into the hug.

“I’m sorry, Lena. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Shhh, I know. I know. I’m sorry too. I forgive you.”

“You can’t,” Kara whimpered. “You can’t just do that.”

“Yes I can. I’m so rich I can do whatever I want. Here.”

Without letting Kara go, she reached over and took Myriad, placing it in Kara’s hands.

“It’s going to be okay,” Lena whispered, as Kara hugged her tighter.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Not too smutty but--

Shimmer!Kane is definitely the type to keep your bed "messy" by average standards but insists the blankets are arranged specifically to be a "nest".

Every time you remake the bed, twenty minutes later you come back and it's a mess again; blankets piled and arranged almost perfectly in the middle, pillows strategically placed for the most comfort...

You ask him why but he can't really tell you (instincts, duh!). But it's perfect to snuggle in! (And y'know nice and cosy to pound your brains out later if you want)

I am screaming over this!! (Also I'm so sorry this took me so long!)

Shimmer!Kane x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals • Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • ko-fi •

A/N: My brain is just like is this a one shot? Is there a part two? What am I doing? Also I have to tag @ominoose just because all of their amazing Kane fics and head canons have just shaped my brain.

Warnings: pining, dry humping, over use of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 811

“Kane, what the fuck?” You sigh, no real heat in your words. 

He looks up at you from where he’s crouched over the bed, the faintest hint of a quizzical expression on his features. 

“What are you doing?” 

He shakes his head a minute, obviously not understanding. 

“I just made the bed, and now you’ve,” you gesture half-heartedly, “done whatever this is.” 

The pillows were piled seemingly haphazardly in the middle, the duet cover bundled up. As you looked you realised that he had also brought the bedding from his own bed onto yours. 

“It’s fine when it’s just your bed, but can you not come in here and mess with mine?”

You’d been assigned to ‘monitor’ him, try to help him adjust back into everyday life after… whatever happened. You weren’t privileged with the details, or even the vague notion.

He continues to look at you with that quiet stare he had, like he was trying to read the dictionary definition for every single word you said. 

You sigh again, moving towards the bed and beginning to put your pillows back at the top of the bed. 

Kane stood quickly, putting his hand softly on your forearm to stop you. You stare at him, a small frown of confusion on your face. 

When he doesn’t say anything for a moment you move to continue your task, but his grip tightens. 

“Stop.” He whispers, his voice barely audible. 

Your frown deepens. “What? Why?” 

You swallow as he stares intently at you, his lips slightly parted, his pupils dilated. It’s only now that you realise how close he’s standing to you. 

“Kane?” You whisper, your heart thudding in your throat. 

He was handsome, of course he was. But looks weren’t everything. 

He was kind, considerate. He listened when you talked, did little things to be helpful, affectionate. He made you drinks without even asking, usually bringing them to you a second after you realised you were thirsty. When the temperature dropped close to freezing a few weeks ago, he’d warm blankets in the tumble dryer and bring them to you, offer you hot water bottles and put your slippers by the radiator when you weren’t wearing them. 

He liked to be in the garden, around plants and animals and taking care of things. The apple tree hadn’t stopped blossoming, despite its leaves coming in since he’d been here. The forget-me-knots hadn’t been hampered by the late frost. Bumble bees and butterflies gathered around the honeysuckle that had bloomed exceptionally early, its sudden growth spurt meaning it was now covering most of the back wall it leant against. 

You liked him being here. 

You liked him. 

Kane carefully placed his hands on your shoulders and gently guided you with your back to the bed before he slowly moved you, urging you to sit  and then lay in the middle of the pillows and blankets. 

You stared up at him, a little bewildered as he climbed in next to you. 

“Comfortable?” He asked in that soft voice of his, but you weren’t sure if it was really a question or just an affirmation. You nod your head anyway. 

He pressed his lips together, deep in thought for a moment on your reaction, before he moves to lay on top of you, pressing his thighs between yours and settling his hips against yours. 

You freeze out of surprise. He’s never done something so bold before. You look up at him, his nose barely an inch from yours. 

Your mouth goes dry, anxiety building under his heavy gaze, like a scientist looking at a specsamin in a jar. 

“Kane,” you whisper, “what are you doing?”

“Are you uncomfortable?” 

You shake your head without thinking and there’s a little flicker of emotion that crosses his face. Satisfaction, you think. 

“Why, erm,” your mind is short circuiting with him this close, the warmth radiating off his skin, the sweet, almost floral smell that permanently surrounds him fills your lungs. The way the hard outline of his cock presses against your core. “Why did you bring your blankets in here?” You blurt out. 

“Making a nest,” he says simply, like that was all the information you would need. “Wanted it to smell like us.” 

He dips his head lower, nuzzling against the side of your neck and breathing deeply. 

“A nest?” You gasp as he rocks his hips against yours, leaning closer so that your chests are flush. 

“Hmm.” He continues to run his lips and cheeks over your neck, feeling your skin and sighing contently. All the while he rolls his hips languidly, dragging his cock against your heat. 

You can’t hold back the shudder and whine as his fly presses deliciously against your clit. 

While it doesn’t hamper his movements, the sound obviously amuses him and he focuses his actions solely on making you repeat it.

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @whatthefishh @romanarose @strangerhands @saturn-rings-writes @lonelyisamyw-0love @queerponcho @steven-grants-world  @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @lunar-ghoulie @silvernight-m @autismsupermusicalassassin @apesarecuul @reallyrallyauthor @basicalyrandom @alwaysmicado @mangoslushcrush @marc-spectorr @soft-girl-musings  @spxctorsslxt @novarosewood

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[half-oz-eddie]

I didn’t know I wanted you (Until I couldn’t have you)

Part 4/5 (master list)

“Buck?” Eddie called out to a very distracted Buck. “Something wrong? You’ve been looking at your phone all night.”

“I-I’m always on my phone.” Buck nervously laughed.

“Sometimes…” Eddie nodded. “But not this much. Did you find a substack or something?”

“Uh…yeah.” Buck lied. “Just doing some deep diving.”

Eddie snickered in response, shaking his head. “Of course you did.”

Actually, Buck was checking his phone waiting to hear from Tommy about his date.

As the night went on and it was nearly midnight, Buck assumed the date went really well and Tommy took this mystery person home, or vice versa.

The following morning, Buck didn’t bother to text Tommy and told himself he’s probably sleeping in or spending time with his date.

When Tommy finally texted back, Buck unlocked his phone within seconds, eager to read the text.

He…? Not that Tommy needed to come out to Buck, because Buck’s cool. Totally cool. He’s an ally. He has queer friends. It shouldn’t even be a big deal that Tommy’s revealing this information to him.

Oh God I hope that didn’t sound too forward.

Tommy took Buck to a taco bar and Buck asked about his date, trying not to sound like he was prying for information.

Tommy’s responses were brief and vague.

Guy’s name is Edgar. He’s 42. Works in accounting. Loves the outdoors and mountain biking.

He sounds boring. Buck thought. But he liked all the stuff Tommy liked. He was even a trained pilot and he knew some Muay Thai.

Maybe he’s more interesting than me. Buck negatively thought.

“S-so you guys are gonna go hiking?”

“Yeah, I was thinking of taking him up the trail we went to. I know it pretty well and it seems like a great spot to go.”

Buck felt like his heart exploded in his chest. He felt like his soul was going to leave his body. Even death would have been kinder than this. “O-oh yeah? That’s cool. He’ll love it.” Buck forced out with a fake smile.

Tommy nodded. “Hope so.”

“Yeah, it’ll be pretty romantic. Especially if you end your hike by the picnic area an hour before sunset, when the sun is low and it creates this nice warm light. They-they call it the golden hour because the sun, it—it’s golden with a warm, reddish—“ Buck laughed to himself. “Sorry I know it’s your date, I-I was just—“

Tommy shot buck a fond smile. “I think that might be a little too romantic for a second date. We’re still getting to know each other.”

“Oh—ah—yeah. Y-you’re right.” Buck nervously chuckled. “I guess so.”

Sure, it was just the very beginning of their dating stage, but it felt like the end of the world for Buck, and he just couldn’t figure out why.

But boy, did it hurt like hell.

A week later, Buck found himself complaining to Eddie and Maddie in a separate group chat he’d created for just the three of them.

Buck realized he was starting to sound a bit insane and deleted the entire message.

He didn't want to say that either. He didn't agree with Maddie. She wasn't wrong, she just didn't understand the sort of...friendship they had.

Buck glared at his barrages of texts, hoping he didn’t sound too eager or too annoying.

Buck put on one of his best shirts and threw on his apron and immediately started prepping for dinner. He was so excited to finally see Tommy again and cheer him up that he couldn’t stop smiling.

He rented Love, Actually to stream, curated a playlist of some of Tommy’s favorite songs, and even mixed up some boxed cake mix.

He didn’t have any frosting, so he hoped strawberry preserves would do.

He wanted this evening to be perfect for Tommy, so he could forget all about the cheating bastard that wasted his time and possibly broke his heart.

The thought of Tommy having a broken heart nearly shattered his own. He needed to fix it. He needed to let him know that he would always be there for Tommy, like Tommy was there for him.

Buck texted Tommy to let him know the door was unlocked for him.

Tommy welcomed himself into Buck’s apartment. Buck looked up from the counter, a wide ecstatic smile painted on his face.

“Smells amazing in here.”

“I hope so. I’m just throwing a few things together. It won’t be perfect but—“

“It’ll be perfect. It was more than I could’ve asked for. Thank you for all of this.”

Tommy’s eyes fell onto the cake on the counter. “You even baked a cake?”

“Uh yeah, but I don’t have any frosting. I hope strawberry preserves are—“

Buck glanced over at Tommy as he was helping himself to a slice of cake, slathering the strawberry preserves on top.

Tommy shoved a generous helping into his mouth, glancing up at Buck with wide eyes. “Sorry. Did you want me to wait until after dinner?”

Buck laughed, shaking his head. “It’s fine. Whatever you want.”

“It’s good cake.”

“It’s just from a box. I adjusted the recipe a little bit to make the cake more moist and flavorful—“

“It worked. This is delicious.”

“Good. I’m glad.”

They sat down and ate dinner, laughed and caught up on daily life outside of Gerrard and definitely outside of Edgar.

They watched Love, Actually and finished off the night with some beers.

“You’re right, Tommy. This is some really good beer.”

“Mhm. I told you.” Tommy paused to finish his beer. “Thank you again, Evan. Tonight was…really fun.” He smiled. “Really helped take my mind off—“

“You don’t have to think about him, Tommy. I’m here for you. You don’t have to feel alone.” Buck realized how strange his statement may have sounded. “You’ve also got all our friends at the 118 too.”

Tommy nodded with a small smirk. “I know.”

There was something odd about the sound of Tommy’s voice. Perhaps he was looking for something more. Something Buck just couldn’t give him.

But Buck, somehow, still wished he could give him everything.

[t-lostinworlds]

Warm Winter & Fiery Frost [2] | Bucky Barnes

》 PAIRING: bucky barnes x ex-HYDRA assassin!female!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: grumpy x grumpy, enemies to lovers-ish, slow burn-ish, angst, fluff-ish

》 SUMMARY: They say opposites attract. You and Bucky were so alike—He was called The Winter Soldier and you were called Frost, for fucks sake—that it's probably the reason why you hated each other. Or was it the denying of powerful feelings in fear of getting hurt? You know, like how the cliché goes. Because you know what they also say: There's a fine line between love and hate.

》 WARNINGS: read full warnings here

》 WORD COUNT: 16.4k+

A/N: here's part two! this starts off right where the other one ended. this is also the last part, BUT BUT if you want to see more of these two or like more detailed scenes that were just mentioned in the fic just lemme know so maybe i can write it as a blurb! <3 enjoy reading!

📘 READ ON AO3 | ★ FIC MASTERPOST

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION✩ B. BARNES MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

When the rest of the team was ushered into the conference room for a debrief, you and Bucky were ordered by the Captain himself to go into a separate office. It was obvious in Steve's tone that he was serious about it. So there was no room for argument. The second Sam ended up leading the way for you both, Bucky immediately knew what this was about.

Sam gestured towards the two seats in front of the desk. You didn't bother arguing and just took your place. Bucky sat across you with a sigh.

You wouldn't even look at him.

If this was any other day, you two would've been deep into a glare-off by now.

But nothing.

Even though Bucky was looking right at you, you couldn't even do as much as lift your head. You were just fixated on the one spot on your knee, picking at it like there was some loose thread when there obviously wasn't.

Bucky couldn't stand watching you act so timid and defeated like this, so he looked away.

"Nobody wants to speak? Fine, I'll speak." Sam said after a moment, hands clasped on the table. "What the actual hell, you two?"

It was such a vague question. But somehow, both of you already knew how out of line the whole argument was because you both looked at each other without much thought.

You were quick to avert your gaze, though.

"Look, I get it," Sam sighed, looking at you two pointedly. "Everything was tense back there. We definitely weren't in high spirits when things didn't go the way we wanted it to. But was that anyone's fault?"

You both shook your head no.

"And as far as I'm concerned, you were only looking out for each, just like how teammates would correct?"

You both nodded.

It honestly was starting to look like some preschool principal's office. Bucky would've found it funny if there weren't harsh words haphazardly thrown in the mix.

"Both of you said things out of anger, and I think we can all agree that both of you went out of line," Sam continued. "But I think I'm right in assuming that neither of you meant it, either."

Bucky nodded. You didn't respond.

"Now, look each other in the eye and apologize."

"I'm not going first," he grumbled out of stubbornness.

It was becoming a bad habit, one that only ever shines around you.

He wasn't proud of it.

"You started it, asshole," you huffed, the fire in your tone slowly coming back.

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Wow, that's real mature of you—"

"Quit it," Sam interrupted, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned in his seat, making himself comfortable. "You're not leaving here until you both apologize."

There was a beat.

You sighed deeply, your body slumping on your chair.

Another beat before you finally met his eyes.

"I'm sorry," you said, uncharacteristically gentle. "None of it was your fault. I know you didn't have a choice. I shouldn't have said what I said."

Bucky's face softened, brows raising in surprise. 

He didn't expect to see guilt in your eyes, nor did he expect to hear absolute sincerity in your voice.

It made him feel even worse.

Of course he knew you didn't mean what you said. After his comment, despite not exactly planning for you to hear it, your reaction was to be expected.

It was never pleasant to be called a 'Useless bitch,' no matter the language.

But despite only saying it out of anger, and not at all meaning it, he wasn't quite sure if you knew that.

"What I said was out of line. I'm sorry," Bucky said, his heart aching when he saw the slight mist in your eyes. "I know he double-crossed you and if you hadn't pulled that trigger, countless young girls would've been sold to God knows who. You did the right thing."

You nodded and looked away.

"And you're not useless, Y/N," he said softly, your eyes snapping up to meet his.

It was the first time he ever said your name. Bucky never truly called you by anything before apart from the occasional printsessa just to get on your nerves. Your name felt so new on his tongue yet so right that he wanted to say it again and again.

"You never were."

You didn't say anything.

You simply looked at Sam, as if begging for this to be over with.

Bucky wouldn't lie and say that didn't sting a little.

"Alright, how about a truce?" Sam said, nodding at you both. "Shake on it."

Bucky put his hand out and you took it. But he only felt your skin on his for a second before it was gone. So brief he might as well have imagined it.

He tried saying something. But before he could even grasp what exactly it was he wanted to say, you stood up and walked out of the room.

Through the glass walls, he watched you wrap your arms around yourself, head down and never looking back.

He'd never seen you look so small.

Bucky hated that he was the cause of it.

•••

He couldn't sleep.

Bucky had been staring at the wall for hours now. The very wall that connected your room to his. He wasn't quite sure what was keeping him awake—the guilt, the worry, the longing, or everything else in between.

Sighing, he got out of bed and quietly went to your shared kitchen. He didn't want to wake you up in case you were already asleep.

But as he reached the end of the hallway, he saw that the hanging light above the island was on, a figure sitting on one of the stools with a bottle of some cheap wine on the counter.

He instantly knew it was you.

Bucky wasn't sure if you noticed him yet, contemplating if he should just leave you be and give you some space. Though he should've known better. You were a trained assassin—one of the best in his opinion. So of course you already knew he was standing there, despite being in the shadows of the hallway. 

"Luka," you said, eyes glued to the something on the counter. "His name was Luka."

It took him a second to realize who you were talking about. Perhaps it was sheer curiosity, or perhaps he sensed that you probably needed this. Either way, Bucky crossed the distance and sat across you on the barstool.

That was when he noticed the brown folder just sitting there, all worn and discolored as if it's been through years of handling.

It was obvious what it was.

You took a swig of the bottle, Bucky's gaze swiftly moving over your face, his heart stinging at the sight of your bloodshot eyes. Whether from the alcohol or from crying, he wasn't quite sure. It was probably even both. Still, an air of sadness surrounded you, a melancholic look sketched on your beautiful features.

Bucky hated it.

"He was a few years older than me—nine years if you want the specifics—but the youngest leader of any operation HYDRA has ever done," you continued, still nothing meeting him in the eye. "He was the son of the Red Room's head scientist, Lyudmila Antonovna Kudrin. HYDRA recruited Luka, which gave him all the resources he needed to recreate his mother's genius."

"But you two became close," he asked.

"Luka was my teacher and my best friend," you said with such longing and grief that there was no doubt that you two had grown a strong bond. But then you met his gaze, a sad smile on your lips. "Or something you're probably more familiar with, my handler."

A chill ran down Bucky's spine.

He knew that there was something else going on, that it wasn't just a normal relationship. He just didn't expect it to be this deep and well, fucked up.

"Acted differently with me, though. He was sweet and kind—never laid a hand, never even raised his voice. He was patient, encouraging, affectionate. He'd make me laugh over the stupidest things, but also firm enough to make sure I give the best that I can. He was—" Your voice cracked, a sound so vulnerable it made his heart ache. "He used to sneak some snacks into my room at night even though it was against my training regime. We'd watch movies on this old, beat-up television until we'd fall asleep, cuddling with each other because my room didn't have a heater. He gave me cute nicknames—printsessa, was his favorite."

Bucky felt his throat dry up.

That explained so much of the animosity you had over the nickname.

Maybe that was why you weren't phased when people called you Frost, because it was a different name entirely that brought you harsh memories.

And Bucky was the only one who taunted it every single time.

"If people were to ask you to think of an evil scientist, he's never going to be the person that'd cross your mind." 

"You never saw it coming," Bucky sighed.

You shook your head. "It was innocent at first, a friendship. But as I grew older we became more…intimate."

He hated how you looked so guilty and ashamed. None of it was your fault. It was obvious enough that this poor excuse of a guy manipulated you to a point where you thought there was something real between you two.

If this guy wasn't already dead Bucky couldn't even begin to describe what he'd do to him.

"That night was probably what he was waiting for. It was the best proof he could get that trusted him completely by giving him my—" You bit your lip and looked down.

Bucky didn't need you to say it to know.

He thought he'd be a little jealous to hear you talk about the intimacies of your relationship, with anyone for that matter. But all he felt was pure sadness and hurt. You gave all that you could to this guy—your trust, your affection, your love and he just spat it right back to your face.

"And I did. I fucking trusted him because I was young, impressionable, and stupid—"

"Stop that," Bucky said firmly. "You were not stupid."

"I still fell for it, didn't I?" you scoffed, shaking your head. "But when you get that little bit of sunshine in a cold harsh world, you hang on to it."

Bucky already knew what horrors HYDRA was capable of. Hell, he'd live through decades of it himself. But just as he thought they couldn't get any more cruel, they pulled something monstrous like this.

It was pure evil.

To make you believe that you had someone in your corner during those moments, that someone actually cared for you, someone who showered you with affection and made you feel like you were free, someone who made you laugh despite your circumstances.

Only for that person to end up being a complete monster who only ever used you for personal gain.

With Bucky, he always knew that all of them were evil bastards, that they never truly cared for him, and that they didn't even see him as a human. He always knew that he was just an asset and nothing more. HYDRA did so many wicked things to him, from physical, mental and emotional torture to countless abuse. But at least he knew what it was from the start.

With you?

They gave you warmth and hope only to snatch it away like it was some useless toy and slap you with it.

He couldn't even imagine how it must've felt, the betrayal, the hurt and heartbreak on top of all the physical and mental torture that was inflicted on you because they sure as hell weren't going to exempt you from that.

And all of this because of one person.

"I trusted him, blindly and completely. I let him lead me into this lab every single day even if I come out of it not knowing anything they were doing because I trusted him."

It was probably subconscious, the way you had been scratching the back of your neck from time to time.

Bucky understood why.

He used to do the same with his shoulder whenever he was recalling something from his past.

"A month in that lab, I woke up to something stinging in the back of my neck," you continued. "He told me not to worry about it, that it was going to help me be the best in my field, that it was there for communication Purposes. Well, he wasn't lying," you scoffed. "Not exactly."

"What did they give you in that lab?" he asked, despite already having an inkling. HYDRA was never one to stray too far away from their old ways.

"A variation of the super soldier serum, administered in small doses. They didn't perfect it yet, and after I've—" You took a deep breath. "The program was delayed after the incident since Luka was mostly the brains of the operation. So I ended up being more than your typical human, but not quite close to a super soldier. I was a бесполезная середина. They loved calling me that."

Bucky shut his eyes as the guilt punched him in the gut.

Useless middle.

How has he managed to do it twice? 

"Ironic since I was their most used asset during my time there," you said, shrugging. "I mean, I've got a great immune system so it's rare for me to get sick, enhanced stamina, have that bit of extra strength. I age slower than most, not as slow as you and Steve but, slow enough."

No wonder why you were able to hold out your own during that spar against him. And while the serum did give you an advantage over most, Bucky didn't doubt that it merely aided your deadly skills. He truly did believe you could still give him a run for his money without it.

"And the chip?"

"Learned that the hard way. It did nothing for the first few months that I had it—not yet, I supposed since I was still willingly compliant with whatever they wanted me to do," you explained, shaking your head dejectedly. "It should've been enough of a warning that I was the only one who had it.

"The missions they assigned me to weren't much at first. Most of the time all I did was just steal technology or whatever it was they needed to build their weapons." A shadow crossed your face. "At least that was what they made me believe."

Bucky frowned. "Until that night."

You nodded. "As I was getting ready to do the op, one of the scientists was talking about how this shipment was crucial to the start of Program Six. It piqued my interest. Not only that but, despite being highly trained since he was part of the military, Luka preferred to be in the lab than out in the field. Yet somehow he wanted to join me during this one. So I was extra wary that night, looking for something even though I wasn't quite sure there was something to look for. But then I heard it—faint whimpers and sniffles and then a very tiny, sweet voice saying 'It'll be okay.'

"I was under strict instructions not to mess with the shipment in case some chemical might get displaced or whatever. But something in my gut just told me to open this one. So I did," you breathed out, blinking back tears before taking another swig of the bottle. "When I opened those doors and saw those little kids, not older than six or seven, mostly young girls…I was just so angry."

Despite your choice of words, the only thing that coated your voice was pure sadness. Bucky wanted to reach out to you and provide even the tiniest bit of comfort. But he figured it was best to just let you finish before anything else.

Besides, you weren't close.

He didn't know how you would react to any physical affection from him, no matter the intention.

"I felt so betrayed because he kept saying that it was only weapons we were stealing, it was only chemicals we were transporting. I was foolish enough to not look into it because I trusted him," you gritted, harshly slamming the bottle back on the counter, the glass cracking but not breaking.

"But he was feeding me half-truths the entire time. There were weapons they took for storage, I just wasn't made aware that it was going to be used for training these young kids. Chemicals were being transported, they just never mentioned the fact that it was used for the recreation of super soldier serum. But with the kids—" You shook your head. "I never knew. They were taking notes from the Red Room, I supposed. But with this program, they were going to be more merciless, get them used to wielding heavier artillery and fight like a soldier and be undetectable and cunning like a spy—a deadly combination of the Black Widow Program and the Winter Soldier Program."

"And you're the first," Bucky said, voice coming out rougher than he intended it to.

"His best and newest weapon," you laughed sarcastically. "I thought he cared about me—well, he did. Not me as his friend, not even as a person but as a symbol of his success, living proof of his genius, to make his мама proud. I was nothing more but his naïve little plaything."

Bucky's jaw clenched.

He would never wish for you to see that man ever again. But if Bucky could bring him back to life, he would—just so he could kill him again in the most brutal way he could. That monster didn't deserve your mercy of a quick death. It should have been very slow and excruciating. He would've made sure of it.

But, what's done was done. The bastard was gone, leaving you here with nothing but the ghosts and demons that were so fucking hard to escape from when they lived inside your mind.

"It was smart, making himself seem vulnerable with me, letting me believe that I had freedom, that I was his equal. After all, the best way to keep a prisoner from escaping is to make sure he never knows he’s in prison."

"Fyodor Dostoyevsky," Bucky grumbled. "Yeah, HYDRA tends to live by that."

"He probably thought he had me wrapped around his fingers that tightly when he told me all of this straight to my face. He was always proud. He underestimated just how much anger and heartbreak can do to a person. And that night all I saw was red and then he called me printsessa in the most condescending and degrading way and I just—" You breathed in shakily. "I shot him. No hesitation. No second thought. Right in between the eyes."

In the years that he'd been on this planet, Bucky had realized that the one thing that men like Luke had in common was the stupidity that only an unchecked ego can bring. They always get so high off the power they have over a person that they tend to forget that they aren't invincible.

This Luka bastard simply forgot what you were capable of. It was quite ironic since he technically created you—as fucked up as that sounds. He probably got a kick out of it, watching your heart break into pieces right in front of his eyes. He probably thought that by being so blatant with his betrayal, you were going to be weakened, that you were going to submit to him.

But everyone knows how the saying goes:

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

Bucky only saw a glimpse of this anger you were speaking of, and he would never want to be on the receiving end of it. He wasn't a genius, but he was smart enough to know that you were way too powerful. You could easily make him suffer if you truly wanted to, it didn't matter if he was a super soldier.

"That was how I knew what the microchip did. It sends signals to your brain that your body is in excruciating pain even when it's not," you explained. "It tricks your brain into feeling like you're getting shot without any trace of a gunshot wound. It's like torture without any physical consequences. No damage to my body meant no time wasted on recovery, so they were able to throw me into mission after mission, nonstop."

"How—"

"I was able to fight the pain long enough to grab his radio," you breathed out shakily, eyes everywhere else as your fingers picked at the torn label of the bottle.

Bucky couldn't even imagine what that experience was like. To stare at the corpse of someone you care about whose death was at your own hands, the searing pain that your mind was tricking you into, trying to save these young children as quickly as possible—all of that while harboring the guilt, the feeling of betrayal, the grief, the heartache at the same time.

"I don't know why but HYDRA liked to keep tabs on SHIELD so any information about them was known to most in the facility, including ways to contact them and intercept their lines," you elaborated. "For some unconscious reason, I was able to memorize one of their channels. Luckily enough, my call went straight to Nat's communication line. She traced it back to my location and was able to get the kids out."

"That's how she found you?"

"No." You shook your head. "I wasn't there when they arrived. I knew the chip was also a tracker. I couldn't stay there and lead HYDRA straight to the children. So I got into one of their vans and drove as far as I could go, trying to tell my mind that I didn't have any injuries, that it was a trick. I didn't know how long I was driving until I passed out from the pain. It wasn't long after that HYDRA inevitably found me and they were not happy."

That was an understatement.

HYDRA never took it lightly when one of their prisoners escaped. They were egotistical bastards. A crack in their system was unacceptable and they were going to try their hardest to rectify that—torturing escapees was just the start.

What more if said escapee killed the leader of their current program?

"After that, they returned to old ways," you said, your teary eyes finally meeting his. "Wiped my memory and controlled me with the chip like I was their real life video game character and all I could do was let them. Every time I fought it and gained consciousness and fought back—"

"The chip hurts you."

"I became their new favorite asset, molded me to become even more like their all time favorite," you snorted, raising the bottle to him with a nod before emptying it in one go. Despite everything you'd just told him, some humor managed to sneak into your tone. "At least they didn't name me Winter Soldier II. That would've been so fucking annoying."

"It would've." Bucky cracked a small smile. Though it was gone a second later. "How did you get out?"

"Natasha Romanoff and her stubbornness," you hummed, the corner of your lip lifting a little. "That night when I called her, a proof that I was actually still alive, it gave her enough courage to keep looking for me."

"But you've met before?"

"Briefly." You nodded. "Back in the Red Room. I was only nine when she was already close to graduating. Left an impression on her when I beat her at a spar."

"You didn't," Bucky couldn't help but chuckle. That must've been a sore spot for the Widow.

"I did," you hummed, smiling a little. It made his heart warm despite the gloomy atmosphere. "I was a feisty little girl, an absolute terror. Managed to cut her arm and it caught her off guard. It gave me enough time to pin her down."

Bucky wasn't surprised one bit.

There was an extremely valid reason why HYDRA took interest in you.

"She took me under her wing for most of it, me and this other girl, Yelena. It wasn't long until I saw them as my sisters. Sometimes you just bond quickly in that environment. But during Nat's graduation ceremony, a deal got closed. I was traded to HYDRA and I never saw them again," you continued, the sadness seeping back into your body. "She didn't stop looking for me though. Even more when she found a lead through the Red Room's system before destroying it. But then it was all just dead ends because HYDRA didn't stay in one place for long. They grew paranoid after what happened to Dreykov. Nat was starting to lose all hope until that call."

"But she didn't find you right after?"

You shook your head. "Not after years later. HYDRA kept me in the shadows as much as they could. So most of my missions were quick and under the radar. But when word got around that The Winter Soldier was now walking amongst civilians, they saw that as an opportunity. They thought it was worth the risk to send me even though I would be out in the open more."

Bucky straightened in his seat. "You were sent to kill me?"

"Do you really think they wanted their favorite child out of the picture?" you said, brow raised. "They just wanted me to extract you and take you back."

"But you never got close enough," Bucky said, unable to push aside his ego. "I would've noticed if you did."

You rolled your eyes. "No, I didn't. Not only did that intel leak, Nat has been tracking everything under the sun for any signs of me. So she and Steve got to me first."

Bucky vaguely remembered that mission.

He'd only been at the compound for a year when Steve and Nat suddenly disappeared for a couple of weeks. They said it was a simple recon mission at first. But then they never got back during the time they said they would be, kept saying that something new came up. The team was kept updated that they were fine and alive, but was never told any details.

When they did get back, the two of them would be in and out of the compound every other week and for days on end. They always did it together and Bucky found that a little suspicious. So he asked Steve if something was going on between the two. Even though Steve turned bright red he told Bucky it wasn't like that, and that whatever it was they were hiding, he'd find out soon enough. 

Nine months later, the whole team was called for a meeting. Turns out, Steve and Nat had been looking after someone in Wakanda, someone who they heavily vouched to be a great addition to the team. There was a lot of back and forth during that time, especially given the background provided. But ultimately, they decided to give a second chance because, as Nat said so pointedly at everyone, that's what the Avengers were for.

The day after that meeting, you arrived at the compound.

"Nine years," Bucky said, gaze holding your confused ones. "You were controlled by the chip for nine years."

"I know. You went through it far longer than I have—"

"It's not a competition."

"Then why have you been acting like it is?" you scoffed. Bucky could do nothing but watch as you slowly build your walls back up. "Nat promised me a fresh start when I joined the Avengers, and it has been like that for the most part. But you can't seem to let go of where I've come from."

"Can you blame me?" he said, starting to get defensive.

"I get it, alright. An ex-HYDRA assassin just waltzing into your lives calls for extra precaution," you scoffed, shaking your head. "But you didn't have to be a fucking asshole about it."

Bucky clenched his jaw, glare now starting to match yours.

Why does it always end in an argument?

"You know what's funny? Steve talked so highly of you. He was so excited for us to meet, said how we both would get along, how we're going to be fast friends or whatever. But then I met you and you just hated me from the start."

"Don't fucking act as if you liked me," he argued.

"I just fucking couldn't!" you admitted, breathing starting to become heavy. "Because you remind me of him too much."

He scoffed, throwing his hands up. "How the fuck is that my fault?"

"Do you even remember what your first words to me were?"

Bucky looked away.

Of course he remembered.

It was the shittiest thing to say to a person at the first meeting.

"Luka was holding a file when I first met him," you gritted. "My file."

It wasn't intentional.

None of what Bucky did was ever intentional.

He didn't know.

But that somehow made it even scarier, how he was able to emulate a ghost from your past without much thought, hesitation or any effort.

"So that's why you hate me?" he said, defeated. "Because I remind you of him?"

You looked away.

It was an answer in itself.

Bucky deflated in his seat, any signs of mending whatever this was with you, to be civil or hopefully have a friendship, thrown out the window. Because how was he meant to compete with that? You hated him because seeing him reminds you of a trauma from your past. These things were out of his control.

Or were they?

Did it count when he'd been wearing a mask in front of you this whole time?

"Why tell me all of this then?" he asked glumly.

"That's why you don't trust me, isn't it? Because you didn't know much about what happened?" you said as if it was obvious. "Well, now you know. You can finally leave me alone." You hopped off your stool, pushing the folder towards him. "Your favorite thing to read."

As you were walking away, he called out,

"Y/N?"

His heart ached a little when you tensed.

You stopped but you didn't turn around.

"For what it's worth," he said, eyes carefully trained on your figure. "You're a good person and none of that was your fault."

He saw your shoulders drop a little. But you didn't say a word. You continued walking, leaving him there alone under the kitchen light.

Bucky looked at the file for what seemed like hours, just staring at the bold letters of a foreign language that covered the front. Still, he didn't need to be fluent in Russian to know what it was about. He was battling with himself, if there was any real need for him to read it, if he even wanted to.

Yet curiosity got the best of him.

The second he opened it, his blood ran cold.

The first thing he saw was a Polaroid photo of two people. He recognized you, obviously. You looked so much younger, though. Bucky didn't know if that was because this picture was taken so long ago, or it was the fact that you were smiling, so wide and bright, so innocent.

But that wasn't the unnerving part.

It was the man standing next to you with an arm around your waist, looking at you with a charming, almost boyish smile.

Bucky has never met this man in his life but dear God he looked too familiar it was fucking terrifying.

When you said Bucky reminded you of Luka, he thought you meant it as the way he'd been acting around you.

He didn't expect it to be physical too.

The man in the photo might as well have been Bucky.

If the picture wasn't faded, then maybe the difference would be obvious. But he doubted it. The same stature, the same bone structure to the face, the same eyebrows, the same hair—when it was longer, at least. He couldn't get a clear look of the eyes but he wouldn't put it past the universe that it was the same color as his as well. The resemblance wasn't close enough for them to look like identical twins, but this man could definitely pass as Bucky's brother.

It was so uncanny it made his skin crawl.

No wonder why you could barely look at him when you first got here.

With a shaky breath, he closed the folder without venturing further.

He left it outside your door as he went back to his room. Though, it was obvious he was going to have a hard time sleeping tonight.

•••

It was like being back to square one.

Well, not like you two truly ever moved past that phase.

You still left tiny traces of you around your shared floor so it wasn't like you'd turned into a complete ghost. And, unfortunately, your nightmares have been more frequent than before.

He felt a sense of guilt about that. Maybe him making you relive your past was the reason for it.

Either way, the arguments and bickering had been happening less. It was simply because you didn't say a word to him whenever he was around. You only acknowledged his presence whenever he would speak to you first—or should he say, got on your nerves.

It wasn't like he was picking fights with you out of the blue like a schoolboy trying to get your attention—okay, maybe it was close enough to that.

Bucky was being pedantic when it came to you. Whether that's correcting your stance during training when there really was no need, arguing about your choice of strategy out in the field, harping about why you changed the setting on the dishwasher to the wrong one, or complaining about the show you were watching despite not knowing anything about it.

He honestly wouldn't be surprised if you'd suddenly throw a knife at him one of these days.

You hadn't, though. You'd simply look at him calm and composed, get your final word—or insult, whichever came first—and walk away.

Somehow, your level-headed response annoyed him more than your quips and comebacks.

He couldn't truly explain why he was acting this way.

It could be that there was just something different about arguing with you now, like somehow there was no real animosity behind the words.

Despite you confirming that you did in fact hate him—for reasons he thought were quite unfair—Bucky didn't necessarily feel said hatred. Annoyance? Absolutely. But did you despise him? He wasn't quite sure.

He wasn't calling you a liar by any means. He simply thought that maybe, just maybe, there was something else hidden beneath the surface.

And in the days that followed, his assumptions had only been proven right more and more each time.

•••

Bucky jolted up from his bed drenched in sweat.

His nightmares had been happening so far in between lately, which he was grateful for. Getting to work on it daily in therapy definitely helped.

But that didn't mean they disappeared entirely.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, he closed his eyes and listened.

Whenever he woke up from a nightmare, he would always find a way to ground himself back. That was the advice given to him and it did work from time to time. Lately, he'd been doing it quite differently.

Ever since you moved to the room next to his, to be specific.

He didn't know why, but hearing your heartbeat or your calm breathing was enough to ground him in some way. Sure, it might have been a little creepy but, it wasn't like he was making his way into your room, standing there until he calmed down.

At first, he thought he was hearing your heartbeat through the wall. With his enhanced hearing, it wasn't far-fetched for that to be the case. But the more his senses slowly refocused, he realized that the sound seemed to come from a different direction.

Bucky stared at his bedroom door, brows deeply furrowed.

As quietly as he could, he got out of bed, making his way towards it and then pressing his ear against the surface.

Bucky felt his heart stutter when he heard it, heard you—soft yet shaky breaths, heart beating a little faster, fingers tapping nervously against the door that separated you both.

You were right there.

Have you always been right there?

You were fighting with yourself in your head, wondering if you should knock or just walk away. There was no need for him to be able to read your mind.

Bucky knew.

He knew because he'd done the same thing for you.

Sure, it was presumptuous. But why else would you be doing this, standing outside his room in the middle of the night, close enough that he could hear the loudly erratic beating of your heart through the thick and solid hardwood door?

Bucky contemplated opening it even if he didn't know what would happen if he did, so many possibilities because whatever this was between you two had always been unpredictable.

Or maybe it wasn't.

Maybe it was painfully obvious what this was, you two were simply too in denial and downright stubborn to admit it to yourselves, let alone, each other.

But before Bucky could come to a decision, he heard you sigh, long and deep, something akin to relief. You probably mistook the silence as him falling back to sleep. Not long after that, he heard your footsteps slowly fade away, and then your door closing.

Bucky was awake for the rest of the night.

Not because of the horrors that haunted his dreams, but because of the woman that made him so confused in more ways than one.

Yet this discovery simply pushed him to be more observant about things, to not let his emotions drive first, which has always been the case when you were in the picture.

It was then that Bucky started to see things differently.

During the day, you were the same feisty firecracker, never looking in his direction unless with a glare, only speaking to him in a tone of disdain.

But pushing all your hostility aside, he was now seeing the little things.

And Bucky has never felt so blind and stupid.

It had always been there, the little acts of kindness that most would overlook. He always appreciated it since it was something new to him after decades of only ever receiving horrible things from others. He simply assumed it was from everyone else. Whether that was from Steve or Sam or Wanda or Nat, or maybe even Tony from time to time when technology to enhance his comfort was involved.

Never you.

With how you two were with each other, it shouldn't have been surprising that he put you last on the list of people who would actually do something nice for him.

But as he stared at the pre-made coffee waiting for him in the morning, he couldn't stop wondering just how long you'd been doing this for him.

Sam, despite having a kitchen of his own, always seemed to migrate to yours every morning and ate his breakfast there. And whenever Bucky would wake up to the ruckus, there was always a cup of coffee already waiting for him while Wilson sipped his own mug. So he simply assumed that the man had made one for him, too.

But Sam wasn't in the compound at the moment, and wouldn't be for a couple of weeks.

Yet the coffee was still there, waiting for him.

How could one person be so blind?

Bucky should've clocked it the second he teased Sam about doing something nice for him for once. Wilson had looked confused at first, a split second where his eyes widened before nodding frantically. Saying stuff about it being the least he could do for always raiding the fridge.

You walked past Bucky a second later.

He didn't think much of it at that time, especially when you two started bickering immediately.

Now, it made so much sense.

Sure, this might all just be in his head and he was way off the mark. That was also plausible.

But then there was the reappearing tea on his bedside table when he was having a particularly hard week.

•••

Bucky jolted awake, grabbing the wrist of someone who was reaching over his bedside table.

His grip immediately slackened when he met the eyes of a very startled you.

"What are you doing?" he asked, voice gruff from sleep, especially when he hadn't been leaving his bed for some time now.

He wasn't exempted from having off days. He might not get sick due to the serum in his veins, but that didn't extend to the mental side of things, unfortunately. This week had been tough on him, especially after a rescue mission that didn't go as smoothly as planned. There were no casualties, thankfully, but when the injured involved the innocent, it was simply hard to deal with.

Given that he was at the forefront of said mission, he mostly took it more personal than the others. He was grateful the rest of the team was letting him be and leaving him alone. They knew it was what he needed so they didn't pester him about getting out of his room or simply didn't bother him at all. 

Well, most of them.

Seemed like a certain someone couldn't resist any longer.

He hadn't seen you in days, so this was quite a lovely surprise to see you in his room. He couldn't even be bothered to think about how you got in.

Bucky was just happy that you were here.

"Steve ordered me to give you these so," you reasoned, shrugging to seem nonchalant but you wouldn't meet his eyes.

Bucky glanced at the mug you set on his nightstand, the smell of chamomile slowly invading his senses. Then it was followed by something chocolatey, which he later would find out was a slice of brownie.

As his eyes drifted back to you, he couldn't stop his lips from twitching into a small smile.

He had never seen you so flustered and most of all shy before.

It was adorable.

While Steve did check on him earlier today, he wasn't quite sure if he had something to do with your sweet gesture.

Nobody made you do anything, much less, something nice for him.

“Steve ordered you?”

“Mhmm,” you said, still looking anywhere but at him. "I—He wanted to see if you were still alive."

Bucky could tell you were lying. If not for the unsureness in your voice, then the way you looked so caught definitely gave it away.

"He busy or something?" he asked anyway, enjoying the way you squirmed.

Sue him, alright. He'd never seen you like this before. It was such a rare sight and you looked so fucking cute. He couldn't help but prolong it a little bit longer. It was making his heart warm.

You shrugged, your sock—one with bunnies on them—clad feet rubbing on your ankle. "Something, probably."

"Hmm." He tilted his head, eyes still carefully on you. "Are those brownies?"

"Yep. Store-bought," you said, nodding far too quickly for it to be convincing.

"Did Steve buy them?"

"No, I—" you paused, pursing your lips before sighing, "Yes."

He couldn't contain his chuckle.

That made you even more flustered.

"Can you—" You glanced at his fingers still wrapped around your wrist, wiggling it softly, silently asking him to let go.  "—got, uhm, stuff to do."

"Okay, well, tell Steve thank you." he hummed, thumb softly stroking your wrist before he let you go. "I really appreciate this."

You only nodded, scurrying out of his room without even bothering to close his door.

Bucky chuckled at that.

Later that night when he went to the kitchen to grab a quick snack, he found the rest of the brownies in a glass container, sitting in the fridge. But what put a smile on his face was an empty box of brownie mix sitting in the trash.

Bucky was sure you baked them yourself.

Was it too presumptuous to say that you did it solely for him?

Maybe.

But one thing was for sure, things were starting to get clearer for him because the more he observed your behavior, the less complicated things seemed to be.

It was getting obvious, how your hatred for him was a façade—as time moved past anyway. Perhaps there was some disdain the first few months, especially when you started on the wrong foot.  

He couldn't say when exactly it happened, but he could see that your animosity towards him had turned into a heavily enforced wall to protect yourself.

From what? Probably the same reason why Bucky's distaste towards you was nothing more than a shield.

Looking back to the first time he laid eyes on you. The emotions he felt were simply so intense and happened so quickly that, well, it scared him. So what did he do instead of confronting these feelings head-on? He denied, denied, denied—tried so fucking hard to find all your flaws and imperfections to put a damper to it.

It was a poor attempt to not get closebecause there obviously was something there, something that if left unattended, would grow powerful, leave him utterly vulnerable and at your mercy, so much to a point where it would be dangerous.

When he had already, wholeheartedly, admitted that he would let you burn the world down, how could it not be?

Yet as dangerous as it could be, would that really negate the fact that this thing with you—if it were to blossom—had the potential to make him so happy?

Bucky flopped back on his bed with a sigh, glancing at the now-empty mug on his bedside table. It was the fifth one that appeared on his nightstand this week, along with either a brownie or some other sweet treat.

And to say that he truly believed that these secret acts of kindness were one-sided.

He could almost hear Steve's all-knowing voice in his head.

"The two of you are more alike than you think."

•••

"The tea and brownies. She said you made her do it. Is that true?" Bucky decided to confront his best friend on one of their morning runs together.

Steve's eyes widened, cheeks turning red but he still refused to say anything.

He shot him a look. 

"Buck…"

"I just want the truth, Steve."

"I caught her baking brownies when I went to check on you. I jokingly said how nice it was to do this for you and she immediately made me swear not to tell anyone. So, she's going to kill me for this," Steve caved, chuckling. "I didn't know it was a regular occurrence."

"Well, it kept appearing until I felt better," Bucky said, cheeks heating up. He turned to the other person who was watching the conversation with amusement. "And you?"

"Me?" Sam blinked.

"The coffee in the morning."

"She was giving me the death glare, what was I meant to do?" Sam defended before smirking. "And no offense, Buck, but I'm more afraid of her than I am of you."

"Great," he sighed, glaring at them both with no real heat behind it. "Now I see where both your allegiances lie."

"I genuinely thought you figured it out by now?"

He looked at Sam confused. "Figured out what?"

"The nice things she's been doing for you?" Sam said, eyes widening when Bucky didn't have a moment of clarity. "Oh wow. I didn't know you were this oblivious." 

"What Sam is trying to say," Steve interjected. "She has done some nice things for you. Sometimes you're just too busy being angry or annoyed at her to notice."

Bucky already knew that.

It didn't make it less embarrassing to have someone else point it out for him, though.

"She gets angry and annoyed at me first," he grumbled—much like a child, he was aware.

"Probably on purpose." Sam shrugged, elaborating when they looked at him confused. "She probably doesn't want you to know in case you'd make fun of her for it. You two don't exactly have the greatest track record when it comes to being nice to each other. So she probably thinks you're going to take it the wrong way."

Was that why you were rendered so shy and perhaps, nervous when he caught you?

"Don't worry, Buck." Steve patted his back. "You two will figure it out eventually."

He didn't know what exactly he meant by that, yet somehow, Bucky felt hopeful that it would.

Eventually.

•••

"Wanda, can I ask you something?"

"She does," she answered before Bucky could even elaborate. "She does look out for you in the field. You're just too focused on keeping her safe to notice it."

Bucky's heart stuttered at that.

Since Wanda always had a high vantage point during missions so she could help whenever she was needed most, it wasn't farfetched that she'd actually see this play out.

It was probably quite an amusing sight to see you two watch each other's six discreetly enough to not let the other notice.

"Did you read my mind?" Bucky narrowed his eyes teasingly.

"No," she laughed. "Sam's just a blabbermouth."

"Yeah, figured it out as much."

"He couldn't stop talking about you debating if Y/N has been nice to you or not," Wanda elaborated, smiling into her tea. "But I can guarantee you that she has, evidently so. Which surprises me how you haven't noticed."

"Has it really been that obvious?"

She nodded. "You two have been defending each other behind your backs. It's always amusing to see her get so angry when someone insults you, especially when you're not there. She's been starting to get really specific with who she spars with just so she could avenge you in her own little way," she elaborated, tilting her head with a grin. "And I know for a fact you do the exact same thing."

"How are you so sure?" He narrowed his eyes.

"Well, that Liam guy didn't get that black eye out of nowhere, did he?"

"He was being a fucking pervert," Bucky grumbled, blushing when Wanda's grin widened.

"It is kinda cute," she hummed. "How you two somehow came up with this unspoken rule that nobody else gets to be mean to you except each other."

"But she has always hated me?"

"I don't see her action as her hating you," Wanda said. "I see it as someone who deep down cares, but is too afraid to even acknowledge it. Because the second you come to accept it, then it becomes real, right?"

•••

Bucky couldn't go back to sleep.

He usually never could whenever he'd get woken up by you having a nightmare. But maybe this time, he didn't necessarily want to go back to sleep.

When he heard your door open just as he entered his room, he'd been wondering if he should follow you.

Perhaps he was curious where you went, or maybe he was downright concerned. This was the first time you ever left your room after a nightmare, so Bucky could deduce that this one was difficult to shake off.

Sighing deeply, Bucky threw the covers off himself again because fuck it.

What could possibly go wrong?

Grabbing a shirt, he ventured out of his room and into the desolate halls of the compound. He had an inkling as to where you were, the sound of a punching bag being brutalized getting louder the more he walked proving him right.

Compared to the training room in the facility, the gym below the Avengers' residences was far smaller—well, enough to fit one boxing ring, at least.

Bucky found you in the middle of it.

Your movement wasn't calculated, nor were they graceful. Punches were thrown for the sake of it, kicks with power but no technique.

There was quite the distinction between training and exercise, over letting out sheer anger before it could consume you.

What you were doing was clearly the latter as your bare knuckles hit worn-down leather.

"Where are your gloves?"

You spun around with a yelp at the sound of his voice, eyes wide with shock as it landed on him.

It must've been quite the rough nightmare when you didn't even notice him walk in, especially when he wasn't at all discreet about his presence.

You immediately glared at him when the surprise wore off. "Will you ever leave me the fuck alone?"

"So you own the gym now?" Bucky scoffed, arms crossed before he shrugged. "It was just a question."

"Didn't feel like wearing one," you said, throwing a harsh jab at the bag.

"Can't sleep?"

You rolled those pretty eyes of yours. "Isn't that obvious?"

Bucky hummed, parting the ropes as he got in the ring.

You ignored him and continued your assault on the bag. That, until he walked over to the opposite side and grabbed it.

"What are you doing?" you huffed.

Bucky reached up, unclipped it from its hanger and tossed it to the side with ease.

"I was using that!"

He ignored you until he was standing in the middle of the ring, arms out as he faced you.

"Picture me as him."

It took you a second to realize what he was implying.

"Have you lost your mind?"

"You want to let off steam?" he said, going into a southpaw stance, nodding curtly. "Go for it."

Hands on your hips, you raised a brow. "What makes you think I won't seriously hurt you?"

"I trust you enough not to."

That caught you off guard.

"Unless you're scared—"

"As fucking if, Barnes."

Bucky smiled to himself.

Always works.

You threw the first punch.

Bucky never threw one.

He knew you needed to let this anger out so he let you. He was mostly on defense—blocking, evading, sidestepping and the occasional ducking whenever you'd throw in a kick for the fun of it.

Just your personal punching bag, really.

He could tell it was helping, though. The tense nature you had when he walked in was slowly fading, your punches and kicks now getting more precise instead of haphazardly thrown.

And when you gave him a look to say you needed more of a challenge, he gladly obliged.

This would mark the second time he'd sparred with you. Since the first one was extremely heated, nobody really tried to instigate another one again.

But this time around? Bucky could sense your playfulness.

It was both surprising and so addicting.

There was no ego and no animosity. Obviously, there was still a hint of competitiveness but it never truly felt serious. You weren't truly aiming to get a proper hit on him nor was he trying to one-up you in any way.

It was an innocent bout, a friendly spar.

Even when you suddenly pulled out a knife when he had you in a headlock.

Youtapped the flat of the blade against his right forearm, the very one he had around your neck.

He loosened his grip, letting you spin in his hold. You stepped back as you faced him, the tip of the knife pointed right in his face.

Tilting his head to the side, he met your eyes with a raised brow.

"You're not playing fair."

You shrugged, flipping the knife in the air and catching it on your other hand.

"You have a metal arm."

Bucky cracked a smile, one that widened when he saw the corner of your mouth lift just a little.

"Touche," he hummed, moving swiftly to disarm you but you clocked his attack right away. You countered with a sidestep, hitting his side with the butt of the knife and jumping out of reach.

"Gotta be faster than that, old man," you teased.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Oh, so now we're playing the age card?"

"You're a hundred years old."

Shaking his head, he went after you running. You used the ropes to your advantage, climbing onto them and using their elasticity to jump over him. One hand grabbing his shoulder, your legs locked around his waist from behind, the knife immediately up against his neck.

He grabbed your ankles that were right on his abdomen, pinching the blade with his metal fingers. You jumped off his back before he could attempt to shake you off himself. Bucky turned only to be met by the knife right up his face.

Again.

"Do you always have a knife with you?" he asked out of genuine curiosity. 

"Maybe."

"Where do you even keep them?"

"Places."

His brows shot up before he could even try and school his boyish reaction.

You gasped, "Don't be gross!"

"I didn't even say anything!" he chuckled, using the slim moment of distraction to grab your forearm. With one swift motion, he pulled it past the side of his head and held it against his shoulder, making you stumble forward. The knife fell with a soft clank. "Your mind went there."

"You were implying it!" you argued, the corner of your lip curling up. It was so small that if he hadn't been so close to you, he wouldn't have noticed.

Still, the twinkle in your eyes was unmistakable.

"Implying what?" he asked. "I mean, who knows where a woman keeps her knives."

You laughed.

For a stupid joke, you let out such a carefree laugh.

It made his heart do somersaults as it burst out of his chest and landed right at the palm of your hand.

To say you glowed would be an understatement—head thrown back, the corners of your eyes crinkling, a little scrunch of your nose with your smile so wide and breathtaking.

And for a moment, it didn't look like you had demons haunting you at night. It didn't look like you bore so much anger and pain in your well-being, valid yet all-consuming. It didn't look as if you had built so many walls around yourself, much less your heart.

For a moment, you looked so free of it all.

And at that moment, he couldn't hold it anymore.

For once ever since you first met, Bucky didn't let himself think too much. After everything that had happened, he'd always wanted to be in control from here on out. He always tried to plan everything, always trying to evaluate things before making the decisions—he always ran on logic.

Right now, he let his heart take the lead.

You were still smiling as your laugh turned to small chuckles, eyes shining as it settled back on him.

Carefully, he placed his hand on your waist.

He saw your smile dwindle, irises holding both shock, confusion and a touch of curiosity, your brows faintly knitting when he squeezed ever so softly.

But you didn't pull away.

Maybe it was a trick of the light, maybe it was purely his imagination, but he was sure you stepped even closer.

Still, it gave him that sliver of hope. Just enough to give him courage, for him to cup your face with his right hand, your shaky breath warm against his thumb as he ghosted it over your lips.

You glanced at his lips before hurriedly moving back to his gaze, your eyes covered in many emotions but he didn't see any doubt in them. So he leaned in, so close he could count your eyelashes if he tried. His nose was brushing against the bridge of yours, foreheads touching as you leaned into his palm.

Then, he paused.

It was his way of giving you the choice—to walk away if you wanted to. His hold on you was featherlight. And even if it wasn't, there was no doubt how easily you could escape him with how skilled you were.

But you stayed.

You tilted your head up as your eyes fluttered closed, your lips just a hair's breadth away from his own.

Bucky closed the distance and kissed you.

Slow, careful, tentative, lips just gently pressed against yours.

You were still for a moment, and Bucky was sure you were about to push him back as your free hand moved to his chest, palm right above his erratically beating heart.

But then…

You kissed him back.

Bucky couldn't stop his smile, warm and giddy as a satisfied hum rumbled in his chest.

He wrapped his arm fully around you then, the hand on your cheek gently cupping the side of your neck, his thumb softly caressing your jaw.

You tilted your head, your arms slowly wrapping around his shoulders, pulling him closer as your lips moved with his.

God you tasted so sweet.

His knees nearly buckled when your fingers got lost in his hair, a groan deep in his throat when you tugged.

And Bucky wanted more.

Hands taking home on your hips, his thumbs found their way underneath the hem of your shirt, stroking circles on your warm and soft skin. Then, he walked you backward towards the ropes.

Yet as soon you touched the rubber foam, you gasped and pulled away.

Bucky only saw it momentarily, the shock on your face before he hit the ropes with a grunt, your warmth leaving him completely.

Only a second ago you were so close to him.

Now you were an arm's length away, the tip of the knife against his throat adding distance between you two.

Yet the moment he met your eyes, Bucky could tell you were much, much farther away than that—into a place well guarded that he would have difficulty reaching you.

His heart ached at how quick and high your walls got built in only a few seconds.

"Do that again and I'll kill you."

Bucky stepped forward, the tip of the blade touching his skin.

"You won't."

You narrowed your eyes. "Yeah? What makes you so confident?"

"The fact that you don't hate me."

Your hand lowered slightly, a look crossing your face for a split second before you raised the blade with a glare.

"The knife against your throat begs to differ."

"Then tell me." Another step forward, he challenged, "Why do you hate me?"

Your glare turned sharper than the knife you held at his throat, speaking through gritted teeth, "You know very well why I hate you."

"Is it because I've been an asshole to you?"

You shrugged.

"Or is it because I remind you of him?" he said, shaking his head when you shrugged again. "We look the same, but that's where the similarities end."

"You didn't know him," you argued.

"No. But I'm not him and deep down you know that," Bucky pushed back, watching as the blade moved away from him little by little. He could tell you didn't even notice that you were doing it, slowly pulling it away the more he got closer.

With so many emotions swimming in your eyes, Bucky could only imagine what battle was happening in your mind.

"So tell me, why do you hate me?" he asked, voice soft yet eyes determined as they never left yours.

"I already told you—"

"No. I want the real reason," he interrupted, tilting his head knowingly. "Or do you want me to guess?"

You scoffed, eyes rolling. "You don't know me enough."

"Maybe," Bucky hummed, taking another step closer.

Your blade managed to prick his skin then, the distance between you closing in. But he didn't care. All he cared about was getting past this hard exterior you'd been wearing for years that now, it was starting to feel like second skin.

"But you remind me of someone I know," he said.

"Really?" you gasped with sarcastic enthusiasm. "Fine, I'll bite. Who?"

"Me."

Bucky saw your features soften ever so slightly, that if he wasn't so close to you, if he wasn't actively looking for a sliver of your reaction, he would've missed it.

But the small chip against your walls only had you placing two more bricks to cover it.

"We are nothing alike," you growled, as you took a step, unknowingly pressing the knife harder on his skin.

Bucky could feel the smallest drop of blood trickle down his neck.

His eyes remained on you.

"Aren't we?" he challenged. "You have a hard time trusting anyone because you never know who you could truly trust. Yet the second you even have that reassurance you shut it down. You build your walls so high so no one could get to you, telling yourself that you're safer and more protected that way but I know it makes you feel lonely too. I know because I've been there."

He saw your fingers loosen around the hilt, your eyes glistening under the light despite your sharp glare.

"You have this guilt in your heart you can't quite shake off, despite knowing, deep down, it wasn't your fault. There's a small voice that's telling you that you deserve better, that you deserve to be granted kindness, that what you did was completely out of your hands and you deserve to forgive yourself, and that you deserve happiness. But as that voice gets louder, the guilt comes back tenfold because how could you think these things after what you've done?"

"Stop," you gritted, your fingers now starting to tremble.

"You push away any person who gets too close to you because of the things you've gone through. You think anyone who tries is only doing it to gain something. But you also can't control how you feel, that despite trying so hard to deny it, despite doing everything to list out cons, despite telling yourself they will only hurt you, reminding yourself that you should never give them that power, you can't stop it because it's just too fucking strong."

You shook your head angrily, trying so hard to deny it but Bucky could see your resolve start to crumble.

So he kept going.

"I'm tired of this game, doll," he said, softly. "I'm tired of masking what I truly feel for you with hate just because I'm scared."

The surprise that crossed your face was so quick he might as well have imagined it.

"You hate me," you pressed, as if saying it would cement it as truth. But he knew it was simply your way of denying it.

"Because the second you come to accept it, then it becomes real, right?"

He was done denying it.

"I hate the way you smile at everyone but me. I hate it when you laugh at everyone's stupid jokes because I want to be the one to make you laugh. I hate that every time you look at me it's always with anger and annoyance or maybe even disgust. But you know what?" he sighed, gesturing at you with a small smile. "I'll take anything you give me as long as you're looking at me.

"And fuck, you make me feel so weak with a simple look, what more if you did as much as smile at me? You could hurt me any time, break my heart as you wish, and it's terrifying because I know I would just let you without hesitation as long as I get to be this close to you even for a second. That's how crazy I am for you."

"Stop manipulating me," you pleaded, voice starting to shake.

"I'm not, doll," he confessed. "I'm just finally being honest with you. I'm finally being honest with myself."

"No! No," you denied angrily. "You're just playing with my emotions."

It broke Bucky's heart just how conflicted you look. But he knew it all steamed from fear.

You just didn't want to get hurt again.

"It's confusing, isn't it?" he continued. "How your heart skips a beat whenever they're near, how you want to be closer to them but your brain immediately shuts it down. You're not used to being vulnerable so you mask it with the best way you know how and the only thing you've known for most of your life: You fight. With insults, with glares, with harsh words it doesn't matter what it looks like as long as you're fighting it.

"But deep down you care and you just can't help it," he said, eyes never leaving yours just so you could see how much he meant his words. "I know I haven't been showing it in the best way but maybe that's because I've been trying to bury it so deep. But it doesn't even matter how many times I try and hide it because I care about you so fucking much it just keeps coming out anyway."

"Stop," you gritted yet your voice trembled, eyes glistening under the light as the knife slowly started to lower.

"I can't," he admitted, wholeheartedly and unabashedly. "I'm falling for you and there's nothing I can do to stop it."

The knife fell on the floor.

Bucky gently took your hand, squeezing it softly before he placed your palm right above his heart.

"I know you feel it too," Bucky said softly, slowly dropping to his knees in front of you.

To show you how he meant every single word he said by letting his guard down, showing vulnerability in hopes you'd meet him halfway.

"Tell me I'm wrong," Bucky whispered. "Tell me I'm the only one and I'll leave you alone. For good."

His heart skipped with hope as you reached for him, your fingertips brushing against his lips before you cupped his cheek.

Instinctively, he leaned against your touch. Gaze holding yours, he turned his head to press a soft kiss against your palm.

But then you pulled back with a gasp, eyes wide with panic as if he had stung you. 

You stepped back in haste, eyes brimming with tears as you shook your head frantically.

Before he could even say anything, you turned on your heel and rushed out of the gym, leaving Bucky kneeling on the ground—vulnerable and alone.

In the deafening silence, he could hear his heart break.

A stab from your knife would've hurt less.

•••

Everyone could sense the gloomy, gray cloud that followed you both.

He wasn't sure if anyone knew what transpired. Most of the team had merely looked confused about the whole thing. The only exception of the bunch was Natasha. Bucky had been met with her sympathetic eyes more than enough times for him to know you'd told her about what happened.

Still, everyone knew something happened.

How could they not when the usual loud arguments and nonstop bickering had now been reduced to the cold quietness?

It was such a glaring difference and Bucky was right at the center of it.

Your silence was far more painful than any of the spiteful words you'd thrown at him.

It wasn't for the lack of trying on his part. But how was he able to talk to you when you'd been so determined to avoid him?

The second you would even sense that he was nearby, you'd immediately leave the premises.

It was still the case as he entered the kitchen.

Sam was in the middle of telling a random story when your chair screeched, an excuse to leave tumbling out of your mouth before you hurriedly walked past Bucky and down the hall, the sound of your bedroom door shutting behind you.

You didn't even finish your breakfast, your bear coffee mug still half full. You left a toast that was barely eaten, the fading warmth of your presence and the lingering smell of your shampoo.

He didn't even hide his dejectedness as he prepared himself some coffee.

"You know, I'd take the arguing over this tense silence any day."

Bucky shot him a glare over his shoulder.

"What? I don't like seeing my friends looking like sad, kicked puppies," Sam simply said, eyeing him suspiciously when he took a seat across from him. "What did you do anyway?"

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Really? It's immediately my fault?"

"Hey, I'm just being observant," Sam elaborated. "When I mentioned your name she had this look on her face so…I'm assuming her mood has something to do with you."

"She didn't tell you anything?"

Sam shook his head. "Barely even said a word." 

Bucky frowned.

If Sam himself couldn't even get you to talk then it was only a testament to just how much things had been weighing on you.

While Bucky didn't regret telling you the truth, he wondered if there was a different way he could've done it. But then again, you were so stubborn. He had the assumption that no matter how he went about things, you would've reacted the same way.

"I just—" His frown deepened as he shook his head. "I told her how I feel about her."

"Buck…"

"I told her how I'm falling for her and she—" he sighed, rubbing a frustrated hand over his nose. "She walked away."

Sam was too stunned to speak—well, not enough to resist throwing in a little joke, apparently.

"Damn, she didn't catch you huh?"

"Why did I even bother," Bucky grumbled as he stood from his seat. 

"Hey! Come on, I'm kidding. Just wanted to cheer you up a little, man," Sam rushed, hands up in surrender before he shot him an honest smile. "But seriously, just give her time to process things. I'm sure her emotions are just as all over the place as yours."

Bucky nodded, sitting back down as he sipped his coffee and grimaced.

It didn't quite taste the same as how you made it.

•••

A week had gone by yet the clouds had no sign of dissipating any time soon.

Bucky had been respecting your space, knowing it was what you needed. But at the same time, he was scared that he might push you further away if he kept insisting.

Still, he missed you so fucking much.

His heart had been aching with longing when all he'd been able to do was simply catch glimpses of you.

It's been too long since Bucky had looked into your eyes, and the only time he had the chance to hear your voice was when it was far away, speaking to someone else. But there wasn't much he could do when you always found yourself leaving once he entered the room.

He could only watch as you walked away from Natasha as he stepped foot into the training room.

"Sam wasn't kidding with the looking like sad puppies part," the redhead teased when he got to her.

"Does he ever just…shut up?" Bucky sighed.

Natasha laughed, "It's all for the best of you. He's looking for reinforcement on how to fix this whole situation you'd got going on."

"Him and me both," he grumbled, eyes steady on you as you went down the hallway and disappeared into a corner. 

"You know, I never thought I'd get to see two of the most emotionally constipated people exist at the same time, let alone be in the same room," Natasha hummed, shrugging. "Well, almost the same room."

"Shut up," he muttered. With a sigh, he asked, "How is she?"

"Conflicted and confused, a little tired and everything in between. But otherwise?" Natasha offered him a reassuring smile. "She's doing okay."

Bucky wondered how much you'd been sleeping. He barely heard anything from you despite still being in the room next door. It was either you figured out how to enable the soundproofing through FRIDAY or your nightmares had finally stopped.

Despite hoping it was the latter, Bucky knew it most probably was the former.

"Do you think I did it wrong?" he asked, a sense of doubt and insecurity settling in his heart. Bucky knew you told Nat everything, so he didn't feel like he needed to elaborate on what he meant.

"Honestly? I don't think it would've changed much if you did it a different way," Natasha said, confirming what he'd already been thinking. "Feelings are difficult to deal with as it is. In both your cases, it's even more complicated given your past trauma, especially hers."

Bucky nodded.

He knew all of these already. But it felt nice to have that validation.

Still, maybe he read everything wrong. Maybe he got way too into his head and concocted an idea out of nothing.

Maybe you simply didn't feel the same.

"Don't worry. She's just processing things," Nat said with a knowing smile as if she read his mind. "She'll come around eventually."

When she probably knew you better than anyone else here at the compound, Bucky could do nothing more but trust her word.

But he wished you would just give him the chance to prove himself to you, to show you that you could trust him. Bucky would do anything you asked of him, would give everything to you—his loyalty, his care, his whole being. He just wanted to let you see that he was yours, utterly and completely for the taking.

Bucky just needs that one chance.

The thing with the universe? It has quite an interesting way of granting what you wish for.

Bucky never expected his wish to be granted in the most cliché way possible.

•••

Things were not looking good.

He supposed, finding the nest and beating it with a stick—or in this case, heavy artillery and super-powered individuals—was never going to be good.

The fucking cockroaches in the form of HYDRA agents wouldn't stop appearing.

"Buck! Five more coming your way from the east wing!"

He grabbed an agent by the collar and threw him at full force towards the other one, both of them falling on the ground alongside the dozen he'd already taken care of. Bucky then turned towards the east wing hallway, ready to take on more only to find it empty. Yet in that split second of confusion, he was able to dodge the bullet hurtling towards him from behind.

Bucky rolled his eyes when he turned the other way and met the agents Steve was warning him about. "That's the west wing, punk!"

"Do you even know your left and right, Steven?" 

"Probably not. At least you know my in and out, Natalia."

There was a collective protest of disgust over the connected comms, and Bucky wholeheartedly agreed with everyone.

"You've corrupted America's sweetheart, Romanoff. I hope you're happy," he teased, grabbing an agent by the collar and slamming them against the wall. 

"Oh I am absolutely ecstatic."

"Loving the chit chat guys! If you have spare time I could use some assistance!"

Bucky was immediately on high alert at the sound of your voice, struggling and out of breath. His heart picked up the pace when you yelped.

"Where are you?!" he demanded, shooting an agent in the leg before hitting the side of their head with the butt of his gun.

You didn't say anything.

"Frost!" he gritted, slightly annoyed because he knew you were hesitating simply because it was him. "Location!"

You hissed, a gunshot, before you finally answered, "Outside the right exit."

"Hang in there. I'm headed your way."

Knocking out two more agents to the ground, Bucky immediately ran towards the exit.

•••

You were surrounded by a couple agents when he got there.

Cars were around the area, the black, armored vehicles a stark contrast to the white snow. They likely would've used them to get away if you hadn't gotten to them first. There were two agents to your right, three to your left who were closer to Bucky, and a man in a lab coat standing in front of you.

All of them were armed except the scientist.

All of them were aiming at you.

Bucky assumed that the only reason why nobody had opened fire was because of the gun you were pointing at the scientist's head. He recognized him as the same person who got away on the last mission.

So this definitely was someone very important to HYDRA.

Thankfully, they hadn't noticed him yet. He was glad he didn't come through guns blazing like he actually thought of doing. When it was you in danger, it took a while for his rational mind to function. Either way, he was glad for the extra time to think of a game plan.

While assessing the situation, he noticed you hugging your left arm to your chest. A white cloth was wrapped around your forearm, probably some poor man's lab coat. But he could see that your blood had already soaked through. There were a couple of cuts on your cheeks and a bruise forming on your lower lip. But you didn't seem fazed by it. If anything, you simply looked angrier.

"You haven't changed much at all, printsessa," the man taunted, hurriedly raising both hands when you clicked your safety off. "Oh sorry, my bad. Luka simply called you that too often. I was beginning to think it was your name."

"Still jealous he considered me more as his right-hand man than you, I assume?" you said, voice leveled despite your state. But then again, you were highly skilled. It wasn't a surprise that you'd be able to keep yourself calm under pressure. "You know, I always thought you were kinda in love with him, Dominik."

"Zakroy svoy gryaznyy rot, ty bespoleznaya suka!" the man hissed.

Shut your filthy mouth, you useless bitch.

Bucky was ready to throttle the man right then and there. But he waited. He figured he needed to find a way to alert you he was here as discreetly as he could.

"We were partners," Dominik boasted, taking a daring step closer to you. "He wouldn't have gotten close to cracking the code with those serums without my help. You wouldn't be where you are today if it wasn't for me."

You rolled your eyes. "Gee, thanks. I appreciate it."

Bucky carefully moved behind the parked vehicles. When he reached the one beside this Dominik guy, your gaze flickered over to him for a split second. Bucky raised his gun, ready to shoot until you every so subtly shook your head. Then, without as much as a wince even though he knew how it hurt, you brought your injured arm down to your side, hands open to show five fingers.

He immediately knew what you were doing.

"It wasn't me who was in love with him," the man smugly said. "Though, foolish of you to believe he loved your back."

Four.

"I wouldn't call infatuation love but what do you know about that." You shrugged, tilting your head with a grin. "At least I wasn't sleeping alone in my bed jerking off to my lab partner at night. Quite pathetic if you ask me."

Three.

"I'd be careful if I were you," Dominik taunted with a sarcastic laugh. "What is given can easily be taken away."

You scoffed, "What is it with you guys and these riddles?"

Two.

"It takes a great mind to understand these—"

One.

You shot Dominik in the chest while Bucky took down the three agents near him. You immediately turned to shoot the last two before he could react, but not without taking a graze on your thigh.

Bucky rushed to you in long strides, fussing over your form. "Shit. Let me see."

"I'm fine," you insisted, hissing when you did as much as move your arm and your leg.

He rolled his eyes. "Don't be stubborn."

"I'm not being stubborn. I—"

The movement behind you caught Bucky's eye. When he saw the barrel of a gun, he immediately pulled you behind him.

Bucky shot Dominik in the head with no hesitation.

When he turned back to you, he felt confused.

You looked panicked.

Bucky cupped your face hastily, worry seeping into his bones once he saw the tears brimming in your eyes.

"You okay?"

Bucky blinked.

Why did his voice sound like he was underwater?

You nodded frantically, your uninjured hand pressed against his stomach. He saw your lips move but he couldn't hear you. This dull ringing in his ears was preventing him. With knitted brows, he tried blinking away the haze that covered his eyes, a slight fog muddling his brain as he tried to decipher what was going on.

When you pressed harder on his stomach, Bucky glanced down.

Your hand was covered in blood.

His blood.

And when he met your fear-covered eyes, he wiped away the tears that ran down your cheeks, barely recognizing his own voice telling you he was going to be okay.

It was the last thing he saw before the darkness consumed him.

•••

Bucky couldn't remember the last time he lost consciousness over a wound. When he healed fast, it was rare to come by. He also didn't remember ever feeling so groggy after a few hours of sleep.

Despite the ache in his whole body, the first thing he realized was how heavy his right arm felt. He obviously remembered what happened so he was sure his injury wasn't anywhere near there.

Glancing down, the heart monitor beeped a little faster at the sight of you.

You were practically cuddling his whole forearm.

Eyes closed with your hand in his, your cheek pressed against his skin, you were hunched over his bedside table, fast asleep.

You looked so adorable and peaceful.

Even with the bandages that covered your face, even with that little drool escaping your parted lips.

"She hasn't left that chair in a while."

Bucky's head snapped toward the direction of the voice, finding Steve leaning against the door frame with a knowing smile.

"Well, apart from Nat dragging her out to eat and take a shower," he added, closing the door behind him as he walked towards the opposite side of the bed.

Bucky frowned at that.

He couldn't have been in the med bay for that long, right?

"You were out for two weeks, bud," Steve answered as if reading his mind.

"What?" He stared at him, waiting for him to say he was joking. But he only gave him a sad smile. Bucky shook his head. "But the serum—"

"Well, if it weren't for the serum you would've already been dead," Steve said grimly. "The bullet was laced with some poison. Banner ran some tests on it and he suspects it's designed to neutralize any fast healing and to kill the person immediately. But since the blood they probably tested it on didn't have the full super soldier serum, it only affected you mildly. So you were healing slower than usual but still faster than most humans."

A shadow crossed his face. "So you mean if the bullet had gotten her—"

"She would've been killed on the spot."

Bucky nodded grimly, eyes landing on you.

"Good thing I took it for her then, huh," he hummed, squeezing your hand that was placed in his. He couldn't help his concern about your position though. "Her back is going to kill her."

"Yeah well, every day I've been trying to take her place so she can rest properly for a few hours. Wouldn't budge," Steve said, smiling. "She's almost as stubborn as you."

Bucky shook his head with a chuckle, "Maybe I can see some similarities."

He tried reaching for you with his left arm but he couldn't. Then he saw the prosthetic lying down on the bench, now shiny and devoid of any dirt or the blood of his enemies—as dramatic as that sounds. But they were on the battlefield the last time he used it.

"Cleaned that herself, too," Steve said when he caught where he was looking for it. "Do you want me to—"

"Please." Bucky nodded, heat covering his cheeks when the heart monitor started beating loudly again due to the somersaults his heart was doing.

After helping him put his arm back on and handing him a glass of water, Steve called in Dr. Cho. Once she was done with her round of check-ups, the rest of the team slowly filtered in and out to check up on him. All of them spoke in hushed tones when he shot them a glare when their voices got too loud. It was a task to eat a sandwich—which Steve gave him—with one hand, but he managed.

Because even with all the commotion happening, you were still asleep.

It could mean you were a heavy sleeper by nature, you were extremely tired given the situation, or both.

Bucky was also inclined to think you were a cuddly person when you never let go of his arm. He didn't even care if the muscles were dead asleep at this point.

When the sky started to tint orange, and his room had gone quiet after they finally left him alone with you, Bucky couldn't help it. He found himself stroking your face as softly as he could with a smile painted on his lips.

You were here, bearing the uncomfortable position because you cared.

It was then you started to stir.

He remained still and watched your eyes slowly blink open. Brows furrowed, you reached for some tissues on his nightstand, wiping away your drool with a curse. 

You never let go of his hand when you did so. And you also didn't notice that he was watching you fuss around, mumbling how embarrassing it was to drool like some dog.

He couldn't stop his chuckle.

You jumped at the sound, eyes wide when they landed on him.

Blinking once, twice, you blurted,

"You're awake."

"You're awake."

You tried to pull your hand away but Bucky only held it a little tighter.

"Hi," he murmured, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb.

"How long have you been watching me sleep?" you joked, eyes refusing to look at him.

Bucky tilted his head, grinning. "Not as long as you have, apparently."

You shot him a glare before turning away. He noticed your gaze settle on his stomach, the blanket covering his legs barely hiding the bandage that was wrapped around it.

"You shouldn't have done that," you said.

The corner of his lips quirked up, head tilting to try and catch your eyes. 

"A 'thank you' would be nice," he teased, squeezing your hand reassuringly. "I don't regret it, if that's what you're wondering. And I'd do it again without question."

You nodded, lip caught between your teeth as you let out a shaky sigh. It took five seconds for you to meet his eyes.

His heart ached at the sadness and worry along with a few specks of guilt that coated your irises. He could only imagine what you went through with the whole thing.

Steve told him how you didn't want to let him go when the rest of the team finally came to help. The captain got scared out of his kind when the first thing they saw was you crying over Bucky's body lying on the snow, the white ground tainted with his blood. It took Wanda having to use her powers to hold you back for just a few seconds so they could get him into the Quinjet. You didn't leave his side the whole journey home, still crying.

It must've shaken the whole team because they have never seen you cry.

When they finally got him into the med bay and had to roll him into surgery, you put up a fight again and obviously, you were winning. So they unfortunately had to sedate you. They used that time to patch you up as well.

Then you waited two weeks for him to wake up.

If you felt the same as he did, Bucky didn't even want to think how scared you must've been.

He sure as hell would have acted much worse if the roles were reversed.

"Thank you for saving my life, Bucky," you whispered, voice vulnerable but not any less sincere.

His heart skipped the sound of his name falling from your lips.

It was the first time you had called him by that name and God did it feel like a finally.

Bucky shook his head with a smile, interlacing your fingers together.

"I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

You nodded with a grateful smile, one that faded as you regarded him, guilt now swimming in your eyes.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" he asked, confused.

It took you a few seconds before you spoke again.

"I know I hurt you that night," you elaborated. "When I walked away."

"It's okay—"

You shook your head vehemently, "It's not."

"It is," he insisted, tugging you out of your seat, pulling you closer so that he was able to cup your face and wipe away the stray tear on your cheek.

"I just—I got so scared," you let out a shaky breath, leaning into his touch. "Everything was just so overwhelming a-and there were so many things happening in my head and it kept arguing with my heart. I just—I wanted to trust you, I wanted tobelieve you but I'm just so scared to get hurt again because everything I felt for you was just too strong. I didn't want to lose control of it in case it's only going to end badly. It would kill me. But still, it's not an excuse to hurt you and then ignore it—ignore you for weeks. I could've just handled it like a normal fucking person—"

"Hey, hey," he interrupted softly, taking your face in both his hands. "It's okay. I know, doll. I understand you, remember?"

You nodded with shaky deep breaths, wrapping your fingers around his wrist, not pulling his touch away but simply holding it there.

It made his heart warm. 

"I don't like saying you're right." you let out a teary chuckle. 

Bucky laughed at that, "It doesn't happen often."

You nodded, smiling timidly. "Let me make it up to you?" 

"Yeah?" he hummed, grinning. "How are you going to do that?"

"How about dinner?" you asked shyly.

He couldn't help the smug smirk that played on his lips.

"Are you asking me out?"

You groaned, trying to pull away.

"Hey! Nope, you stay here," he chuckled, scooting a little to the side before tugging your hand so you would sit beside him. You did, and he immediately wrapped an arm around your waist. "So, are you asking me out or not?"

"Can you stop—"

"It's a simple yes or no, doll."

"Yes," you grumbled, rolling your eyes when his grin widened. "Don't get used to it, Barnes."

"I would be honored to go out with you," he said with a teasing tone but with a sincere smile before tilting his head knowingly. "But since I'm bed-bound, can I ask something in advance to make me feel better?"

You narrowed your eyes, suspicious of his request. "What?"

"A kiss."

"Really?" You rolled your eyes, yet the smile on your lips widened.

He groaned suddenly, clutching his stomach with his left arm.

"Shit! Are you okay?" you asked frantically, checking him over as worry colored your face.

"It hurts," he whimpered. "Jumping in front of a bullet for a girl you're falling for really hurts and she won't even give me a kiss to make me feel better."

You froze.

Then, you smacked him on the arm.

"Jesus Christ," he chuckled, rubbing his skin which barely even stung. "Have you no sympathy, woman?"

"Asshole," you muttered.

He pouted with his best puppy eyes. "Why are you so mean—"

Bucky wasn't able to finish his sentence when you more or less shut him up with a kiss.

The feeling of your lips on his again was like a huge breath of relief. It was soft and sweet, unhurried yet still a little careful. But it wasn't short of all the emotions you wanted to convey, the appreciation and adoration, your gratefulness to the utmost care you could muster. All the things that you still weren't ready to voice out loud you poured into the kiss.

Bucky did the exact same thing as he tilted his head, moving his lips against yours in a sweet caress as he held your face in his hand to be closer.

"You look so cute when you're worried," he hummed once you pulled away for air, nudging your nose with his.

"And you're more insufferable than I thought," you muttered, rolling those pretty eyes of yours.

Bucky was now starting to see the action as something affectionate. 

"You like that about me," he said smugly.

You sighed in feigned dejection. "Unfortunately."

Bucky only kissed you again in response.

Of all the times he had wondered about ways to just get you to shut up during your random arguments, this was definitely at the top. And while he hoped for it to be the case, his expectations were quite low. He never thought it was actually going to be a reality, especially with how you two were with each other.

Yet look at him now, grinning from ear to ear with your lips pressed against his.

Bucky knew things weren't going to be smooth sailing from here on out. There were still a lot of conversations to be had. You two still had your issues that needed working through, whether that was individually or together.

You were definitely still going to bicker, it simply seemed like it was part of your dynamic. Albeit this time, it'd be more out of affection than animosity.

But as he pulled away and was met by the hopeful glow on your face and the adoration in your eyes that reflected his, he knew that no matter what, this was where he needed to be—with you.

Bucky knew that through thick and thin, through the fire that would light you both aflame, the ups and downs, through spring, summer, fall, Winter and Frost—

You two will be okay.

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

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[icallhimjoey]

To Have And To Scold

♥ ♥  Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your best friends are getting married, and who else can they ask to be their best man and maid of honour but you and Joe? It's just that... you don't really get along all that well, do you? At least, that's what you think.

CW / disclaimer: sort of enemies to sort of lovers (very vague, im sorry, but you'll see), language, drinking, rpf, fem!reader

Author’s note: whats up my hot idiots, this is part 2 and I just need you to know that I'm going through a doubtful time writing this BUT I'M DOING IT ANYWAY so, here you go, hope you enjoy!

Wordcount: 3.2K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five - part six - part seven - part eight - part nine - part ten - epilogue

You didn't know why it felt like you were going for a job interview, but your stomach was aflutter with nerves. The sweaty palms, tense shoulders, twitchy eyelids type of nerves.

Why were you doing this again?

And why at Joe's house?

For Mark.

You had to actively remind yourself you were doing this for Mark. And for Poppy, too. You definitely could've chosen a more neutral spot for it though. Somewhere out. Not either one of your houses. But Joe'd very casually said he preferred not to be seen out as much, reminding you that you were dealing with an actual celebrity. Gross. But you'd been civil and said, of course. Of course I'll come meet you. At your house.

But on your way over, your mind felt out of your control when it started going over reasons and excuses to cancel on him. How nice did an evening alone on your sofa sound? Snacks, bit of Netflix, comfy outfit... that's the kind of night you wanted. Instead, without any excuse good enough to text Joe, your legs carried themselves over from the tube station to his street, to his house, up his front steps and then, even with your mind screaming to put your hand down, you rang the doorbell.

It took ages for you to finally see some movement through the little pane of frosted glass. Too long. A rude amount of time that made you consider turning around and leaving.

But then Joe opened the door with a tight smile that only worked the lower half of his face, and you kind of couldn't believe what you were looking at. Joe was wearing pressed trousers and a shirt with a tie. And there were actual shoes on his feet. Shoes! Shiny formal shoes, on his feet, in his own house? What the fuck was up with this man? Who was he keeping up appearances for? Just himself?

Fucking hell, you were in leggings. Old faded ones that were pilling around the crotch. What a way to start the evening entirely off-balanced.

Like you were expecting anything different, though.

"Hi," Joe narrowed his eyes for just a second to sell the smile, but it quickly fell.

"Hey," you had to try your very hardest not to frown at it, and managed to force a smile of your own.

"Come on in,"

Joe invited you in like you were about to have a business meeting. Cordial. Polite. Sort of friendly, but, tense. Always so distant and a little awkward, like you hadn't actually ever met before. But he lead you into his house, gestured towards the coat hanger that you passed as you followed him to the kitchen.

"How do you take your coffee?"

Joe almost sounded like he didn't want to make you any to begin with, but just said it because it was the polite thing to do. Like you were strangers just meeting for the first time.

"Oh, no thanks, if I have coffee now I won't sleep later,"

And for a second you awkwardly hovered in the kitchen not really knowing what to do with your hands, and you looked around. Everything looked clean and shiny, everything all in its place. Like no one actually lived here.

"Tea, then?"

Joe'd already flicked the kettle on.

"Some water's fine,"

And he flicked it off again before he moved to retrieve a glass for you.

With forced familiarity you sat down at one of the stools by Joe's kitchen island. You didn't know if Joe had planned for you to sit down and talk anywhere else in his house - maybe he had a weird conference room up in a room somewhere, a massive office for you to have an actual work meeting - but you decided that acting casual, like hanging out with Joe at his house was normal, was the way to go about this.

Because you knew each other, didn't you? Had known of each other for years. This didn't have to be so odd. It definitely was odd, but you thought maybe if you pretended that it wasn't, perhaps it wouldn't be.

Like that time that the four of you had gone for dinner and the entire night you and Joe hadn't spoken directly to each other. The conversation had flowed just fine, you reacting to Mark and Poppy, Joe reacting to Mark and Poppy, the both of them reacting to the both of you... but you and Joe? You'd hardly made eye-contact at all, and you had felt so weird for it throughout that whole evening. When you said something about it to Mark after, he acted like you were insane, so you'd let it slide.

Or like that time when you'd ran into each other on the tube and both of you pretend not to have seen the other. You were just as guilty as he was, but, you know, if Joe had said hi, you definitely would've acted as if you'd just noticed him and would've said hi back. Would've smiled. Would've asked him where he was headed. But no. You'd seen each other and then both pretended you hadn't and why were the two of you like this?

It was exhausting.

"So," you took in a deep breath and nodded at Joe with your eyebrows raised high, gaze open. "Maid of honour," you gave a small nod.

"Best man," Joe replied and for a single second you thought you could see an actual sparkle of joy in his smile as he placed a glass of water down in front of you.

"You think you're ready for the job?" you asked as you opened the Pinterest app on your phone. Joe shrugged as he remained standing on the opposite side of the island. Kept his distance, literally. He seemed unbothered, like he thought everything would work itself out fine without much of his interference.

That wasn't how these things worked.

"What do you mean," you asked and copied his shrug, asking him to explain the air of nonchalance.

This was a big deal. Mark and Poppy were important people to you. There was no room to be nonchalant.

Joe looked at you a second before he let his eyes dance over the marble countertop and, fucking hell, it was so annoying how Joe would always take too long to think. He was always biting back his initial reaction, seemed to take a couple of seconds to go over what would be smart to say, and then would hardly say anything of value. Would hardly contribute to the actual conversation.

Wasn't communicating his job, essentially? Why was he so bad at it This man had real problems communicating with you, and for what? You were nice. Hadn't been anything but nice. Your unconfrontational nature had really been the sole reason you and Joe hadn't clashed yet, you thought.

You frowned slightly and decided to try something. See if you could skillfully let him know that this needed actual work to be put in.

"How long have you known Poppy, if you don't mind me asking?"

You knew they'd been friends from childhood, but you needed Joe to remind himself of the fact.

"Since we were about... I don't know, nine?"

"So you must know what she'd want for her bridal shower, then... and her hen do,"

You mentioned the bridal shower because you thought maybe Joe didn't even know that this was going to be something he was going to have to organise. Carefully dancing around what you actually wanted to say.

"Sure,"

That stupid little half shrug again.

"And you're going to go with her when she goes shopping for her dress?"

"Yea, why not?"

Joe unbottened a cuff and started slowly rolling up a sleeve and that shouldn't have been as distracting as it was. Joe had nice hands.

Big.

"What do you mean, why not? These are the things that a maid of honour does..."

You were about to giggle a little at the fact that you called him a maid again, but then Joe's fingers moved onto the other cuff. The other sleeve. Shit. You weren't going to admit to anyone, not even yourself, that this was doing something to you.

"Poppy's not... don't worry about it, Poppy's not into all the, I don't know, traditional things,"

"Hmm," you mused, "Risky thing to assume,"

"I don't assume, I know,"

With both forearms now on display, Joe reached a hand up to loosen his tie. What the fuck was he doing? Fully undressing himself in front of you?

"Yea, all right, sure," you kept your composure as you questioned Joe's claim and turned your gaze back to your phone screen which had now gone black. You picked it up for the face ID to let you back in.

"You don't know Poppy like I do," Joe said it like there were secrets he knew that you'd never find out about her, no matter how good your friendship with Poppy was. And you were sure he was right, but the arrogance was making your skin crawl.

"You're right, I don't, but I'm a woman, which in this case does really count for something,"

A little smirk appeared on Joe's face as he also got his phone out, and you hated it.

"Like you know the first thing when it comes to being a best man,"

"I do, actually,"

This little chit-chat was turning more hostile by the second.

"I'm sure you do,"

You'd gone into this evening already thinking about how much Joe wouldn't love hanging out with you, but he was really making sure you felt it radiate from his entire being, Jesus Christ.

"I do! Stag do, speech, get everyone into their right outfit and to the ceremony on time," You listed off on your fingers.

"That's it?" Joe's eyes flicked up from his phone to look at you.

"That's it. The best man really gets the better deal on this one, I'm afraid,"

"You forgot about the rings,"

Fuck.

You could practically smell Joe's ego swell. But when you looked, it seemed like he pretended that he didn't just embarrass the living daylight out of you.

And it was almost worse. Because taking the high road by not being a dick somehow made him seem more like one.

"... and, the rings," you added on a fourth finger, but the damage had been done. There was no saving yourself from this one.

"You know what you're doing for the stag do?"

"Yep. Nothing too overboard. Fancy meal, stupid pub crawl – easy going,"

Joe kept quiet for a second and scrolled through his phone a bit. You copied him, and then he asked, "You're just doing an evening?"

It felt like Joe was backing you into a corner.

"The girls and I are doing a full weekend,"

The girls?

"Oh man, just a few hours for the stag do," Joe clicked his tongue and hissed through his teeth. "And you're going to forget the rings too? I thought you and Mark were friends."

Oh, fuck him.

"Seems like being a best man really is a man's job after all,"

You tried so hard to not let anything show in your face. You took careful notice to really keep your face as plain as you could. No eyebrow movement. No jaw clenching. Joe didn't need to actually see that he got to you. But he did. A little. So, instead, you opted to just bolt. Get out of there. If this was how Joe was going to be, you didn't need to be around him.

You'd met up because Mark and Poppy deserved the best - you both agreed they deserved the best. You'd met up because you needed to find options for dates, so the hen do and stag do would happen simultaneously. You'd met up to discuss plans. Help each other out. You definitely could help Joe with a few things. And, sure, you'd listen to Joe if he had any tips for the stag do.

But you weren't going to listen to Joe talk to you like that. Let him test your limits. He hadn't reached them, not by a mile, but you refused to even let him try to get close.

You were adults and Joe could fucking act like one.

You swung your knees to the side and got up, swiping your phone from the counter and sticking it straight into your pocket as you started moving towards the door.

"No, come on," Joe released a nervous laugh and backtracked immediately.

"I'm sorry! I was joking that was a joke,"

You stopped right in the doorway, eyes looking down the hall where they fell on a framed picture of Joe and Poppy. Beautiful black and white photograph, you knew the photo well. Knew exactly where it was taken. What event they'd been at. What you'd been wearing. What Mark had been wearing. Because the photo was a cropped version of one of the four of you.

And it wasn't that you needed Joe to hang a picture of your face in his house. Of course, not. But to blow up a photograph he literally cropped you out of to hang up in his home - not to mention in a location he passed every day - only hammered home how much Joe didn't need you in his life.

"We're not doing a full weekend, I wasn't– I don't know why I said that, I'm sorry," to his credit Joe took full responsibility of saying the wrong thing, with the wrong tone, at the wrong time.

"Can I just... can I just say something?" you started, looking over your shoulder with your back still towards Joe. "I know you've never... you've never quite warmed to me– don't argue,"

Joe was about to interject but let whatever he was about to say escape him in a breath. Instead, he pushed both his hands into his pockets and you could see his shirt flex against his chest.

"We're not friends, even though, our friends are getting– they're getting married. It's not like we can just... pretend the other doesn't exist, like, marriage is meant to be a life-long sort of deal, so..."

Something empathetic shone from Joe's eyes, but you saw his jaw clench. He seemed deflated, but underneath you sensed some sort of wary apprehension.

"We don't have to be friends, you don't have to actually like me, but... we could at least try to... I don't know, pretend,"

Joe blinked a few times before looking down at his feet. Quiet. Milling over thoughts, not sharing the initial ones that popped up, because he never did.

"Couldn't we?"

"Yea," Joe snapped his head up. "Yea, no, of course,"

"I'm nice," you said, and smiled to prove it. As a reply, Joe just gave you another one of his tight-lipped smiles before he rounded the corner of the island towards where you'd sat on one of the stools.

Joe could've agreed with you. Could've said, yes, of course you're nice. You're the nicest. But he didn't. Instead, he sort of skipped over it and it was like you hadn't ever even said it in the first place.

"Let's," Joe said before sitting down on the seat next to where you'd sat before. One foot still on the floor, one foot up on the footrest, and legs spread wide. "Let's get our calendars out and actually plan some things,"

Okay, good.

This was why you were there.

To get shit sorted.

Walking over to sit back down next to Joe was weirdly challenging with the way he was leaning into his shoulder with an elbow placed onto the counter, turned to face you, absolutely man-spreading. But, you managed fine. Sat down and opened your phone's calendar and pretended you couldn't feel Joe's breath on your arm as he placed his phone down next to yours.

You found two optional dates that you both thought could work for Mark and Poppy and also worked for you and Joe. It took some time, but you got there eventually.

You showed Joe how Pinterest worked, so he could at least ask Poppy to pin some things so he could get a feel for the vibes she was going for. For the bridal shower, for the dress - for the whole wedding.

Joe didn't interject, didn't make snarky comments, hardly said anything if you really thought about it, but it was fine. The boy listened and seemed to take whatever you were telling him seriously.

When eventually you carefully asked if a fancy meal and a long pub crawl seemed like a good stag do, Joe was quick to say that that's what he would've done had he been in your shoes. It kind of made his earlier comment sting more. He had really just said that to get under your skin, and you hated that it had worked, too.

"Okay, so, to go over it one more time–" you started, rounding off the evening, but Joe interrupted, "I think we've got it."

Had you not had that weird moment of almost leaving, you could've sworn Joe's comment was meant maliciously. Now, after spending an hour sat next to him staring at phone screens, it felt a little warmer.

On your way out, Joe followed you a little, but not all the way to the front door. Like suddenly distance was needed again. You put on your coat and looked back to see Joe leant into the doorway, both arms up high where his hands touched the doorframe. His shirt was fighting to escape his trousers, and you couldn't stand that you noticed that.

"We're good, yea?" you asked, referencing the plans you'd made for Mark and Poppy.

"Absolutely, yea,"

A moment passed where you just looked at Joe, unsure of how to say goodbye, and he was gracious enough to grant you a solid second of eye-contact before you saw him look at his front door behind you.

You got the hint.

No stalling. Get out of his house. You'd been over long enough.

Just before you stepped out and were about to call a goodbye over your shoulder, Joe said, "And I do think you're nice,"

It stopped you in your tracks.

When you turned your head back, Joe wasn't even really smiling, which made it worse.

"From what– you said earlier, that you're nice?"

Joe... don't be so fucking awkward, you thought, but didn't say.

"You– I just, I know you are, Poppy says it all the time. Mark too. I just, I though you should know that they do, and that I do. Think you're nice, I mean."

It was only when you smiled that you realised you'd been looking at him like you were worried he was in actual pain, struggling through his words.

"Thanks,"

And this was when you both should've gone, "Bye," and "See you later!" and "Get home safe!" with kind smiles and little waves.

But instead, you shared a last look and then slowly closed the door behind you whilst neither of you said anything, or really even moved at all.

What the fuck was that?

---

The Taglisted: 

@ghostinthebackofyourhead @dirtyeddietini @jasminearondottir @josephquinned @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @thefemininemystiquee @alana4610 @emmamooney @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie @munsonmunster @kellysimagines @mybffjoe @chaoticgood-munson @sherrylyn628 @bdpst-massacre @05secondsofsexgods @lovelyblueness @adoreyouusugar @nadixq @prozacandnicotine @munsonswhore86 @alwayslindie @breddiemunson @eddie-joe-munson @ali-in-w0nderland @pepperstories @phyllosilicate-s @thebellenouvelle @luvrsbian @joesquinns @choke-me-joey @alizztor @thelostmoonofpooosh @did-it-work @capricornrisingsstuff @quinnsbower @frogers @kennedy-brooke @daleyeahson @eddielives1986 @harringtonfan4 @sadbitchfangirl

(taglist currently full, sorry)

[multiverse-imagines]

Hiii, I love your writing and I finally came here with a request!👀✨ Could I have some relationship headcanons with reader and Legato please? (Sfw/nsfw is ok) How does reader get him to trust them enough to open up/get into a relationship? How about reader genuinely caring about him for once in his life, reassuring him etc.? THERE ISN'T ANYTHING ABOUT MY BOY OUT THERE, HE DESERVES BETTER!!😭😭

Thank you for listening to my ramblings :P

Have a good day✨ :D

A/N: omg of course!!!! Legato needs all the love! Feel free to request anything for Legato anytime! All of the Trigun characters are just so "My boy" to me, so I shall write for our boy! There will be some TriMax spoilers within, but I'll keep them as vague as possible. Because they're super heavy topics, and I want this to be digestible for readers!

Triggers: Slavery mention, and SA mention

Legato Bluesummers x Reader Headcanons

Sfw

Legato Bluesummers first love for the longest time was, of course, Knives Millions. His savior, his Master. The one who saved him from his miserable former life.

Which is why Legato is quite confused when he first meets you. You were the first being besides his beloved Master that he found… aesthetically pleasing (absolutely freakin' beautiful).

He saw you in a town that was near the base of operations for one of Knives' little side operations.

He first interacted with you at the local bar. He had seated himself in a distant corner of the bar counter, and you walked up just a few seats down and ordered your drink from the bartender. He caught your eye as you vacantly stared around the bar, lost in thought.

He saw you glance over his features, a light rush of blood settling in your cheeks. He hoped you wouldn't interact with him. Receiving your drink, you meandered back to your friends across the bar. He thought that was the last he'd seen of you.

He was wrong, of course.

Your next meeting was on his way through town, just an overly dressed bystander, making his way towards a warehouse. He felt something collide into his chest. It was you. Your body tensed up and your face turned a bright red.

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry!" You apologized.

Legato could have killed you right then and there. Such a filthy human bumping into him and spoiling his clothes? Disgraceful! But he made the mistake of looking into your eyes as you calmed down, waiting for his response.

"It's… okay. Please watch where you're going next time." He said flatly before stepping around you, and walking off.

A few more chance interactions like this befell the two of you before you stopped him as he was about to walk off again.

"Hey, wait a minute!" You trotted along beside him, introducing yourself and asking his name. Legato was hesitant. Why did you need his name? He supposed it didn't hurt to indulge this Little One with the name of who would be their killer someday.

"Legato Bluesummers." He curtly responded before once again walking off.

Whenever you saw him around town, you would insist on saying hello and try to get him to talk to you more.

This aggravated Legato to no end. Why wouldn't you leave him alone?

"Oh, hey, they gave me an extra cake at the bakery today, would you like it? I don't really need it." You offered a small red velvet cake slice with a delicate white frosting.

"I'm sure I can find someone who wants it back at… the office." Legato fibbed. Why did he care if you knew he worked for Knives?

From then on it was little gifts here and there. A few bread rolls, a soda pop, a can of soup, stationery supplies. Eventually, the two of you sat in the central square chatting for hours at a time.

It was an odd thing for Legato. You didn't care about what he did for work; though he hadn't told you yet anyway. You enjoyed his fashion style, and you seemed to enjoy being around him in general.

"Legato, would you… like to join me for Dinner?" You sheepishly asked. Legato tensed up. Where was this going?

"I can't tonight, I have some work to finish." His reply caused your shoulders to dip and your face a frown, "but if we reschedule for tomorrow night, I'll… I'll make time for dinner with you." Your smile was wider than an ile, and Legato learned he liked something. Your smile. You nodded excitedly.

"What would you like to eat? Do you like.. curry? I make a really tasty curry!"

"S-sure." He hadn't had curry before. He preferred sweeter foods, typically.

"Do you like spicy or sweeter curry? I'd like to make it to your taste!" You said, mentally preparing to go off to the store to gather supplies.

There was a night the two of you sat on the roof of your home watching the stars. The two of you chatted about stars, space, and anything in between. It was there you told him that you loved him. You enjoyed spending time with him, sharing food with him, and the person he was around her. He frowned,

"I… I've enjoyed our time together as well, but… you don't know enough about me to tell me that you love me. You may know I enjoy the color blue, and like sweet food, but… you don't know what I really do for work, who my employer is… my past… I've kept you my little secret because you will get hurt. And I thought I buried the emotion of fear down so far it would never return."

He looked into your eyes. Your beautiful eyes that twinkled like the stars above, illuminated by the light of the moons, "You're only gonna get hurt."

"Legato. I don't care. Remember that time you kept my water glass from falling over? You caught it with.. some sort of telekinesis. That's an amazing ability!" You'd seen that? And you weren't scared?

"I know you could keep me safe. I don't care what you do. I don't have to go with you, either. Your home can be here, with me. Whenever you need a break from whatever plans this employer of yours has."

"You saw… my threads. I can use metal threads, thinner than the eye of a needle, to move anything as I wish. To cut anything I wish." He admitted to her.

He then proceeded to tell her about what he did, and what Knives' goals were. He was astonished to see you shruggingly agree with Knives, and the fact that humans had been pretty irresponsible with plants. You didn't think everyone needed to die for it, but some sort of balance had to be achieved, right?

That's when he knew he had truly found love. You weren't scared of him, you didn't completely disapprove of his deeds, his frequent evisceration of humans. You truly cared about his safety and his own well being. And in the end, that was acceptable to him.

Nsfw

Now Legato has a terrible past when it comes to physical intimacy. His childhood as a slave, and being used for sex still haunts him, and fuels his hatred for humanity as a whole.

He's created quite the barrier to keep people away, so sexy fun times are very rare.

He does however, make them nights you'll never forget.

You had to teach him about kind love, and not being so rough. You often let him top, since he is usually uncomfortable with feeling so vulnerable on his back.

Your first time you asked to be intimate with him, he shut down like Fort Knox. It took a good hour of coaxing him out of it, allowing him to tell you about his atrocious childhood.

"I… I want to be intimate with you. I just…" he'd forgotten what fear felt like.

"We can take things slowly. We'll do what feels okay to you, and I'll give a very gentle nudge sometimes. Is that okay?" He did eventually respond with a nod.

You couldn't touch Legato once your clothes are off. The skin contact triggers him, and he sobs uncontrollably. He hates it, but feels fortunate that it's only in your presence.

He holds you to the bed with his abilities as he presses kisses to your form, and loves to hear the noises you make while he makes love to you. They keep him in the moment, and allows him to continue just a little longer.

It's only super recently that he's allowed you to tangle your fingers into his hair while he kisses you in such a position.

[joshriku]

prompt: 'can you write erik struggling to bake and frost a cake for someone he cares about? i think it'd be hilarious like magneto girl dinner (or girl desert?'

yes i can. vaguely au-ish. what if they were slightly normal during the brotherhood. loosely based on kworei's series re: magneto and the twins except this one is a lot more ridiculous

-------------

“We are not buying a cake,” Magneto says. 

“But it’s our birthday!” Pietro exclaims. He waves his hand around. “It’s a whole thing, you know? I don’t expect you to know what happens at a birthday party, but usually, there’s cake.”

Magneto arches an eyebrow at him. Pietro meets it readily. “I know the details of a birthday party, Quicksilver.”

“Yeah, ��cause that’s totally a normal thing to say,” Pietro mumbles very fast. Magneto begins saying what? so Pietro pushes on, “Yeah, well, anyway, if we’re not buying it then we’re baking it.”

“I think your free use of we is rather preposterous, Pietro,” Magneto puts down the newspaper he’s reading at last. A glance at it tells Pietro he gave up on the crossword for the day. “Happy birthday to you and your sister. I am not involving myself in your plans. If you want to bake, you are responsible for whatever happens.”

“So you’re leaving me? In a kitchen? By myself?” Pietro points behind him. “What if I set the kitchen on fire?”

“It’d be your problem.”

“Oh, so you’d let me burn down your operations base? What if I poison Toad? What if, I don’t know, Mastermind walks in and an egg lands on his head? Surely that would cause some in-fighting in the Brotherhood. Not as if we don’t do that already, but—”

“Fine,” Magneto snaps. He stands up, cape dramatically flowing as he does. “Get yourself to that kitchen. I will do it with you. Do not make me regret it.”

“You’ll regret this day for the rest of your life,” Pietro announces proudly. “But it’s fine because it’s going to make Wanda happy, and we like Wanda.”

Magneto stares at him, pointedly doesn’t say anything, and keeps walking evenly to the kitchen.

“Where is your recipe, Quicksilver?” Magneto begins as soon as they arrive. “You cannot come to the battlefield without a plan of attack.”

“You’re so weird,” Pietro mumbles again. He does have a recipe written down—he asked a shopkeeper to tell him the recipe, and he’s been safe-keeping it for the past two months. Wanda was going to be so thrilled. “It’s sponge cake. So, um, pre-heat the oven to 180 degrees—” Pietro hears the oven turning on. “Oh, can your magnetism do that?”

“Yes.”

Pietro holds back the compliment. But it is kind of cool. Regardless—

“Okay, so, we have to butter up the—” the pan already flows to the kitchen table. “See, this is kind of cool, but you’re ruining my process.”

“You asked me to be here.”

“I guess I did,” Pietro speeds off to grab the butter, at least, so Magneto doesn’t get to flex and be all cool with his powers the whole time. “We need, um, sugar…? Eggs. More butter. Vanilla extract. Self-raising flour.”

“I presume you got all of this already?”

“More like stole it, but yes,” Pietro opens the cabinet. He takes it all out, and before Magneto gets to do anything, he’s already done—the sugar and butter are already whisked, he’s cracking the eggs and beating them as they come, in the next second he’s already adding the vanilla, the flour, and just a dash of milk. Not like anyone else drinks milk here. “Okay, so, that’s that.”

Magneto frowns at him, but perhaps he’s a little impressed at how fast he is. “Why exactly did you call me, Pietro?” 

“Honestly?” Pietro leans on the counter for a second before he pours the mix in the pan and puts it inside the oven, all before blinking. He comes back to Magneto again and continues leaning on it. “I’m terrified of the piping part. I’m not delicate. I just want to write ‘Happy birthday Wanda’ on it.”

“And you think of me as delicate.”

“Not really, but like, the tips are made of metal, so I assumed you’d have more accuracy and neater handwriting than me,” Pietro explains. “I think so, at least.”

Magneto makes a sound—a chuckle? Something somewhat positive. “Such a task is nothing for the Master of Magnetism.”

“Sure, sure. I guess we just… wait…?” Pietro hates this part. Why can’t time move fast? “So… saw how much you sucked at the crossword today—”

“We can wait in silence,” Magneto says, leaving no room for argument. Pietro isn’t even offended—hey, he isn’t the one being bad at the newspaper.

Longest hour of his fucking life.

“We’re not decorating on a hot cake, Pietro, have you no sense of anything?”

“But waiting sucks so muuuuuuuuch—”

“Okay, here,” Pietro says, taking out the frosting from the fridge. He loads it on the little bag and adjusts the tip before handing it to Magneto. “Remember, just: ‘Happy birthday Wanda’.”

“Are you not writing your name?”

“Nah, it’s for her. So, Happy birthday Wanda—”

“I heard you the first time, Pietro,” Magneto says as the pipe floats to him. “Now, if you may be quiet—”

“And after you add the letters maybe you can do the rest of the decorating around the border—”

“Boy, that is not what we agreed—”

“Well! To be fair, you did not agree to this either, you—”

Uh-oh. Pietro hears a splat, and next thing he knows, the entire decoration is one huge pile on top of the cake, and of course Wanda is back from her day off just then.

She stands at the doorway, looking torn between laughing at them and being horrified. “...I’m back?”

“Happy birthday?” Pietro tries. “We baked you a cake.”

“And got in a fight with the piping bag?” Wanda asks as she steps closer, scooping it up with her finger. “This is very…”

She looks at Magneto, then at Pietro, then at the cake. “It’s very ugly.”

“If you are going to be ungrateful—” Magneto begins, but he’s cut off by Wanda.

“But it tastes fine!” she gives Pietro a hug, and he easily returns it, proud. Magneto watches them interact, and if Pietro didn’t know any better, he’d say he’s embarrassed of his decoration accident. “Thank you both.”

“Next time,” Magneto says, floating a knife to him, cutting the cake, “Next time, I am just letting Quicksilver buy a cake.”

[sarandipitywrites]

Seven Snippets, Seven People Tag

thanks for the tag, @talesofsorrowandofruin! check out her snippets here.

no pressure tags for @authoralexharvey, @thesorcerersapprentice, @unrepentantcheeseaddict, @lordfenric-writes, @aziz-reads, @space-writes, @nettleandthorne, and an open tag to anyone else interested :)

i'll pull from my current WIP, The Art of Empty Space for this one:

1)

"Lienzo. Child." Aaro squinted at him, her brown, age-frosted eyes gentle in the warm light. "If things are this bad for you, let me help. We're family. You can trust me. You can trust your cousins." No. Nothing in this world was free. He'd learned that a long time ago. Even if the cost didn't come today— "I understand if you don't want them. The merchants are coming through tomorrow; Dob Millen will be there. He'll buy anything. I'm sure—" "Dob Milen is a crook. He won't give you even half of what these are worth." "His metal melts down all the same." Aaro flinched. Her hand tensed behind the payment tray as though she might fling it at him. Lienzo breathed, forced himself to hold it, and let it out again. Aaro wanted to help. She did. Just because she didn't understand why handouts weren't helpful— "If you want to help me," he said, his voice shaking with forced calm, "you will buy the last things I have of any value." His tongue flicked out, wet his lips. Don't say it. Don't say it. Whatever he did, he couldn't— "We're family. Right?" Aaro's shoulders slumped. She dragged her hand over her face. When she looked at him again, her eyes were older than the gnarled wood of her countertop. Lienzo had won. Bile rose in his throat, burned the backs of his eyes. He'd won, and he was the foulest piece of shit to ever walk the planet.

2)

"Hey now, this healer was the genuine article. People called this one a miracle worker — cure the uncurable, and all." Lienzo snorted. Not Okara's 'miracle healer' again. "And who told you that? The corpses they found outside Iskin Forest? No one's been to the city in years." Okara flapped its hand at him, the other stirring the mash in the filter. "Those corpses just weren't determined enough." "Oh, yes. Determination. That's what'll get you into the city. And I suppose determination is what will get the Crown to finally open the gates and realize the entire southern province has been annexed, as well?" "You say that like he doesn't already know." "You think he knows, and is doing nothing? For no reason?" "Oh, there's a reason." "Can't wait to hear this one..." Okara glanced out the front window. It pulled a packet of rolling papers and a jar of greenery from under the counter. When it popped the cork from the jar, a heady aroma — earthy, sweet, and vaguely pungent — filled the air. "Our good Crown Demetrios sold Kallixten to the highest bidder."

3)

He'd written it off as an unseasonable chill, the first time. He'd tugged at the sleeves of his tunic, tried to pull the cloth over his hands. Then he was pressing himself down into Big Sis's neck, squeezing her just a bit tighter with his knees, trying to leech whatever warmth he could through the saddle. When Iskin Forest came into view, his breath rose in clouds before his face. He pulled his thin scarf tighter around his neck and dismounted. Reins in hand, he started towards the tree line. Sis balked and chirred. She pawed at the dirt, leaving deep brown gashes in the frozen ground. "What's the matter?" He stroked the side of her beak, smoothed over his own ruffled nerves. "They're only trees. I know you've never seen so many before, but there's no reason to be afraid." He went out to the end of the reins, tried to gently coax Sis into the forest after him. His foot sank down on icy needles. Lienzo yelped and jumped back. He hopped on one foot, batting at the frozen white— He blinked. Snow. The thin soles of his shoes, the ground at the tree line, and into the forest as far as he could see. All covered in snow. "The fuck?" His words came out as a strangled, resonating whisper in the frosty silence. Sis trilled and nipped at the hem of his sleeve. Mechanically, he reached into the saddlebag and pulled out her seed pouch. He fumbled it, bringing it up with too much force. It was so much lighter than it'd been, even the previous morning. He pulled the drawstring open and held the pouch out to Sis. She promptly buried her head in the cloth and pecked at the seeds. Lienzo squinted into the trees. Gray clouds hung low and pendulous over the forest, sheltering it from all but the most filtered sunlight. Even in the glare of the setting sun, all but the closest trees appeared as mere suggestions of a forest — faded gray pillars in a sea of black. An avaricious Crown. A corrupt Artist. A terrible price. Nonsense from the mouth of a conspiracy theorist with a half-smoked spliff hanging from its lips. But that'd been two days ago, when he'd known that it didn't snow after the first harvest. That it never snowed in a perfect radius around a single city.

4)

The sun's fingers retreated over the wall. Even without it, the snow on the ground and rooftops seemed almost to shimmer in the moonlight. Even the snow that continued to fall in fat, wet flakes glittered in the air. Sis's head shot up. She trilled. She was right. The snow was shining, but not with moonlight. One by one, in a radius that started at the plaza and bled out to the streets extending from it like shoots from a vine, the streetlamps blinked to life. Pale blue eldritch light flickered in the lamps' glass cages. It glimmered off the falling snow, turning dusky twilight to fog-painted morning in moments. Then came the flame. A lick of turquoise fire rose from the street. It twisted and undulated like seaweed in the surf, growing until its height reached Lienzo's shoulder. Then it calmed and began to change. It morphed from a shapeless candle flame to something eerily humanoid, with legs, trunk, and head. It turned its head — its face tapered like an acorn, with a small nose and wavy hair that billowed around its shoulders — and fixed him with its gaze. Bright, glowing white where its eyes would be. "You're a new face."

5)

"Alright," he muttered, "if I were a monster hunter, where would I go?" He headed back for the stairs. Clack. Clack. Clack. Every muscle in his body tensed. Lienzo dropped into a crouch, snuffed his candle. He peered between the balusters to the room below. A large, shadowy shape moved across the room. Each step echoed through the room, up to the second floor, jabbed at Lienzo's nerves. Clack. Clack. Taller than a man. A stride longer than a wolf's. The shape disappeared through a shadowed doorway. Lienzo stayed still. Beyond the stained glass wall, the wind moaned its lonesome dirge. Then he moved. Leaving his candle behind, he scrambled to his feet, darted down the landing, past the infirmary. He needed to get out of the open, he needed walls around him, proper hallways, not this open space where the beast could look up at any moment and see— He passed from the upper foyer into a hallway. The solid walls around him pressed in like a heavy blanket. He sighed, allowed himself to straighten as he continued down the hall. So the beast was large; it walked upright; digitigrade, he'd guess, although he'd need to see its paws closer up, or at least its tracks to— Stop. That wasn't important. He needed to know what it could do, how strong it was, how many villagers he would need to take it down with minimal injury to his people. Whether or not it walked on its toes was inconsequential. Only one thing mattered: Lienzo could never fight something like that one-on-one. Even with a proper sword, a creature like that could snap him in two.

6)

Clack. Clack. Clack. Lienzo jolted. He knocked into a paperweight, sending an entire stack of notes to the floor. He cursed under his breath. His eyes darted from the mess to the doorway. He moved deeper into the library, wove between the stacks. With several shelves between him and the door, he pressed himself up against the books. The dry, slightly sweet smell of aged pages filled his nose. The clacking came closer, stopped. The rugs muffled the monster's footsteps. A rustling of papers. A sigh. For several long minutes, Lienzo hardly dared to breathe. He stayed against his bookshelf. The rustling continued. From the shelf across from him, Syl Staples' name stared back at him. 'Memory and Other Ghosts.' Maybe it was a first run. After untold time, the rustling stopped. Clack. Clack. Clack. Fading, this time. Echoing as it went down the short hallway, back to the foyer. Lienzo emptied his lungs, head spinning. He peeled himself from the shelf. His shirt clung to his back, cold and clammy. Close. That had been too close. He shook his head at himself as he emerged from the stacks. He needed to keep a better eye out, or else... He blinked down at the floor. It was clean. The papers he'd knocked from the desk were back where he'd found them, in a neat (if not very organized) pile. The brass pyramid paperweight sat in the precise center of the stack. The beast had come in and...? Lienzo darted from the room. He went back through the halls, retracing his steps, following the lit sconces all the way back to the entrance hall. The candles still burned on the receiving table. The note was back under the candelabra's foot. Lienzo's breath stuttered. His tongue thickened in his throat. He drew his hand down his face. He'd been looking for a stranger and running from a beast. But he'd been chasing in circles. An untethered. A practitioner of the Old Way. Gerania had called it a beast, but it was nothing so base. In every story he'd ever heard, the untethered was the villain. Frequently malevolent, but never mindless. Lienzo wasn't the one in control, here. He hadn't been, from the start.

7)

Scales flashed in the moonlight. Lienzo yelped and dove. He rolled forward. Snow slipped down his shirt, nipped at his skin. He staggered to his knees, brought his sword up. Teeth, each as long as his thumb, clamped around his blade. He twisted, got free, darted away from another attack. This was okay. This was fine. He was faster than them. All he had to do was keep moving the way Sis had gone. Once he was out of the forest, everything would be fine. They wouldn't chase him. They wouldn't chase him because these weren't normal animals and this wasn't about food, this was about something else, something old and wild and he'd really thought there were more of them than— A growl behind him. He stumbled froward, back into the circle. The creature in front of him backed away, let him in. The others stayed in their circled around them. Eyes steady, unblinking. Heat licked across Lienzo's brain. They were toying with him. They weren't even trying. They knew he was trapped. They knew he could only resist so long, would eventually collapse and then— Lienzo roared, brought his sword down in an arc. Dark blood spattered the snow. The creature blinked. Blood pooled in the corner of its eye, ran down its muzzle. Snow crunched under Lienzo's back. Talons pricked his arms through his sleeves. Hot, fetid breath fanned across his face. Blood dripped onto his cheek, into his mouth. Iron. Heat. Fury. The monster roared. Spittle flecked Lienzo's face. His eyes slipped shut. This was it, then. He might have gotten away, might have let the monsters play their game until he figured out an escape. But he hadn't. He'd answered an insult with a fist, as he always did, and now this was it. It was alright. Sis knew the way home. She'd get home, and then— Wind brushed over his face. The world beyond his eyelids fell into shadow. Warm. Rumbling. He opened his eyes to heaving white and billowing violet. The beast loomed over him, its white cotton shirt a hand's breadth from Lienzo's face. Its tail lashed behind it, spraying clouds of snow into the air. It surveyed the monsters around them. The snow under its paws crunched with its shifting weight. Lienzo rolled onto his stomach, peered out from his living shelter. The creatures were still there, still in their circle. One of them — the one that had pinned him mere moments ago — lay on its side in a puddle of bloodstained white.

[quickspinner]

Meme’ing on along

I blame @19thsentry-blog for tagging me in this. Also I called in reinforcement to help me pick fics because I am indecisive as hell. 😂

Rules: Pick any 10 of your fics, scroll somewhere to the midpoint, pick a line (or a few), and share it! Then tag people!

You know I gotta make @verfound and @livrever suffer along with me, aaaand how about @haphira​ and @nerdypanda3126 too 😁

Okay here we go. I’m gonna start off with a Dragon Age fic just for the hell of it and the rest will be mlb.

To Those Who Wait | 4,638 words | Oneshot | Dragon Age Inquisition (Cullavellan)

“You won’t,” Cullen told her, taking her hand again. He was finding it hard to stop touching her, making sure she was real, though he certainly didn’t want to pressure her with his presence. She hadn’t pulled away yet. “Mia–I told her, about you. About–my feelings for you.” Maker’s breath, he hadn’t meant to bring that up so soon, but she didn’t look away when he said it, nor pull away her hand. He took heart from that. “You don’t have anything to worry about as far as that.”

Her smile grew, just slightly. “That’s good,” was all she said, but his pulse jumped.

“You must be tired,” he said quickly, before he could do anything foolish. “And I’m filthy. I’ll leave you to rest and…I’ll see you at dinner, then?”

She nodded, and he thought he saw a faint color grow on her cheeks.

Snake in the Silk | 3,932 words | Series: I’ll Never Not Know You: First Meetings | Miraculous Ladybug (Lukanette)

“This is the weirdest fucking day,” he muttered under his breath, carefully moving more underthings aside and trying not too hard to think about what other kinds of things a lady might keep in her underwear drawer. Ugh, why did the damn drawer have to be so deep—wait, was that—

Luka picked up a distractingly pretty blue pair decorated with black ribbons, and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the familiar tip of Sass’s tail sticking out. “Got you, you little shit.”

Killer Combo | 60,783 words | Oneshot | Miraculous Ladybug (Lukanette)

Luka snorted, folding his arms. “Color me shocked. If only someone had warned you—oh wait. I did. Repeatedly.”

Jean pressed his lips together for a moment, clearly trying to keep his temper. “I’m sorry,” he said at last. “We should have listened to you. We should have trusted you. Casey’s been miserable ever since. We’re truly, honestly sorry.”

"Good,” Luka grit out. “Thank you.”

“So you’ll play with us?” Jean asked, motioning vaguely towards the state, and Luka scoffed.

“No. Now get out of my face. I don’t want to see any of you and if I catch you even near my sister again, I got no problem going to jail for a night, you understand?”

Plausible Deniability | 4,679 words | Oneshot | Miraculous Ladybug (Lukanette)

The piping voice fell into place right about when he woke up enough to remember the night before. Luka groaned and pulled his covers over his head, wishing he could just curl up and die. He really did want to go back in time and kick drunk Luka’s ass. What had he been thinking, getting that drunk and letting Marinette bring him home alone?

Pink Frosting | 4,679 words | Series: Pink Frosting (Derbynette) | Miraculous Ladybug (Lukanette)

“I love it,” Luka said, taking the helmet and inspecting it. “Roller derby’s got a reputation for being sassy and aggressive and yet you’re bringing your own sweetness into it. I really love it.” He gave the helmet back and Marinette put it back on her desk. “So how do you actually play? I really don’t know much.”

He sat back and listened to her go on about bouts and jams and jammers and blockers , trying to follow but mostly just enjoying how excited she was. By the time she finally wound down, it was time for him to leave, but he was happy to see her enthusiasm restored.

“You’re really going to come to the bout?” Marinette asked, big blue eyes turned up to him as he stood to go.

“Absolutely. And I won’t have a single bandaid in my pockets, I promise.” He winked, and she laughed, and the sound followed him down the stairs and kept him smiling even as the bakery faded from sight behind him.

Triple Threat | 12,249 words | Oneshot | Miraculous Ladybug (Lukanette)

Viperion looked at her sharply but was blinded by the light of her power activating. He took a step back as she glowed brightly, and when he could see again, his partner was gone. He looked down to see the Multimice grinning up at him. One of them waved him down. Viperion knelt and put his hand down. One of the Multimice climbed onto his palm and he lifted her to his face. “I’ll stay with you,” she said cheerfully, hands on her hips. “Wouldn’t want you to get lonely.”

Viperion chuckled. “Welcome aboard.” He brought his hand up to his shoulder and the Multimouse hopped up.

Under the moon, by the sea... | 3,965 words | Oneshot | Miraculous Ladybug (Lukanette)

The movie was just as cheesy and silly as Marinette remembered, and Luka’s whispered asides had Marinette burying her face in his shoulder to muffle her laughter. Fortunately, the theater was not exactly packed, and no one made any effort to shush them. They both doubled over with barely suppressed laughter as Jagged threw himself dramatically into a mudslide down a cliff in the rain after his crocodile co-star, only to land up to his ears in a lake of muddy water at the bottom.

“Back before the age of green screens,” Luka snickered in her ear. “How many times do you think they had to do that take?”

The image of Jagged flinging himself repeatedly into the mud because the first take hadn’t been rock ‘n roll enough sent them both into another fit of giggles.

Pink Envelopes |  5,050 words | Series: I’ll Never Not Know You: First Meetings | Miraculous Ladybug (Lukanette)

Luka tried to remind himself as he walked to the T&S Bakery that he knew absolutely nothing about his mystery neighbor, and he shouldn’t be nervous. If he was lucky, he’d make a new friend. If he wasn’t, he’d buy them a coffee, make awkward small talk for half an hour, and go home and hide under his covers until he didn’t feel like dying of embarrassment anymore for being so incredibly wrong and his next hit song would be about shattered illusions and the stupidity of self-indulgent fantasies and he’d have to laugh awkwardly in interviews while trying desperately to avoid telling the truth of his inspiration.

Luka took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, acknowledging the thought and letting it go with his breath like his therapist had taught him. 

He shrugged his shoulders slightly to resettle his leather jacket, and then pushed open the door. 

Hey Gorgeous | 36,703 | Series: I’ll Never Not Know You: First Meetings | Miraculous Ladybug (Lukanette)

See?” he said softly, showing it to her. It was intimate, even a little sexy, but not at all explicit, soft with the morning light, her hair mussed and spread across the pillow, his cheek leaning on her temple, both wearing still sleepy expressions of contentment. The dark mark on Luka’s collarbone, visible just over the curve of her shoulder, and his eyes looking right at the camera, intense where hers were soft, made her body warm. “Can I keep it?” he begged. Marinette pursed her lips, considered the worst case scenario, and decided she wouldn’t die of embarrassment if, say, her parents saw it. It looked kind of like a sexy perfume ad, actually.

“Y-you c-can keep it,” she sighed. “B-but j-just for us.”

“Promise,” he said, saving the photo. Then he kissed her neck in a spot he knew was ticklish, making her scrunch her shoulder up.

“L-luka,” she laughed, and he leaned further and kissed her cheek.

“Can I keep these too?” he grinned, handing her the phone.

Indelible | 48,577 words (and counting) | Multichap | Miraculous Ladybug (Lukanette)

Luka had to admit there was something admirable about the level of audacity necessary to turn your worst trait into your brand.

Jagged might be an artist and he might be the greatest rock ‘n roll star of his generation, but a “pure” artist? Not even close. It was moments like this morning when he was reminded that Jagged was a businessman as well as an artist, and that all his lip-service to the purity of the emotion he put into his work was—well. It wasn’t all bullshit. Jagged’s songs were emotional, it was something Luka had always admired about his work, but he’d walked away from the meeting this morning feeling like Jagged’s tears must be shaped like tiny dollar signs.

[alphacrone]

Angst Week Day 7

talents | darkness | silence 

TW: talk of death, self-sacrificing/vaguely suicidal actions BOOK 4 SPOILERS X-posted on AO3

As Lucy’s cape tore away, the only thing she could think was: this is it. 

As an agent she was used to assuming any moment might be her last. Every job was a risk, every Visitor a potential death. And here, running from the dead in this strange, dark world—this was certainly no exception. 

Without the cape’s protection, the impossible cold dug into Lucy’s bones like knives. Frost spidered across her skin and her lungs burned as she gasped for air. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t move…this was it. She was sinking into the darkness of this alien world, consumed by its ice and emptiness. 

“LUCY!” 

A feathered cape draped over her. Lucy tugged it closer and glanced up, expecting to see Lockwood there next to her within the safety of the cloth. 

But that was not the case. In his hurry Lockwood had torn off his cape and thrown it over her with no regard for his own safety. He fell to his knees and his head fell back as he struggled for air. Frost now overtook his face as quickly as it had Lucy’s. She screamed. 

He was dying. 

He was dying because of her. 

Mustering every last ounce of strength she had, Lucy lunged forward and grabbed Lockwood’s shoulders. His eyes were wide and terrified, long lashes coated in ice. Lucy pulled him to her chest, wrapping the cape around them both. Lockwood’s face buried into the crook of her neck, the cold of it sending shivers down her spine. Lucy held him tight, listening as he found his breath. 

Alive. He was alive. 

“Are you okay?” Lockwood panted out, hands gripping at the back of her shirt. 

“Yeah,” Lucy said. “You?” 

She felt him nod against her shoulder. They couldn’t stay here too long; the smoking of their cape was like a flame and the ghosts were moths drawn to it. But Lucy didn’t want to move. She didn’t want to let Lockwood go. 

“Why did you do that?” She whispered. 

“Had to save you,” Lockwood replied easily. “Guess I panicked a bit.” 

“A bit?” Lucy pulled back slightly to meet his eyes. “Lockwood you nearly died. ” 

“So did you.” 

“On accident!” Lucy couldn’t help how loud her words came out. “You just- you just- it’s like you want to die for me!”

“If it means saving your life,” Lockwood said, voice low and hard. “I’d die a thousand times.” 

Tears welled in Lucy’s eyes. “I don’t want that,” she whispered. “I want you to live.” 

She could see the way his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed roughly. Lockwood’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again as he struggled to find his words. He was shaking, but so was she. They were safe from the deadly vacuum of this place under the cape, but the chill of it still seeped between the folds and feathers. 

“Luce…” Lockwood said her name like a sigh. He gazed at her with such tenderness, yet such fear, that a lump formed in the back of her throat. 

“Just…try to live, okay?” She asked. “Please. For me?” 

Lockwood’s eyes dropped to her lips, then back to her eyes and he nodded. Lucy moved one hand to his face, fingers tracing his cheek. There were splotches of white skin on the tips of his nose—frostbite, she was sure. It hadn’t turned black yet, but if she’d been a second too late…

“If you stay in this horrible, dark place,” Lucy said. “Then I'm staying with you. I’m serious, Lockwood. I can’t lose you. I can’t be the reason you die. I won’t survive it.” 

“You don’t mean that,” he pleaded. Lucy took his chin in her hand. 

“I do,” she said. “So stop with your self-sacrificing bullshit. I’m not worth it.” 

“You are,” Lockwood said. “You are worth it.” 

Poor boy was an idiot, Lucy determined, but she let the argument die. They needed to leave this place. Once they were safe, back in the world of the living, she could reason with Lockwood. 

“Just…” Lucy rested her forehead against him. “Stay with me, okay?” 

“As long as I can.” She could hear Lockwood smile. 

“Forever,” she said, ignoring the way her cheeks burned. 

Lockwood’s lips pressed against the top of her head and she heard him whisper, almost too quiet to make out: 

“Forever.” 

[offeatherandbone]

@savedpeople

"Pretty fucking cool, right? The tree, I mean, though I know this whole place must look damn luxurious to you."

Compared to the rest of the Sanctuary, it is; that's because they're currently in the parlor where Negan's wives spend much of their time -- though they're notably absent now -- down the hall from the leader's own living quarters. A room of leather and velvet, fancy-ass decorative pillows and chandeliers, a selection of wines at a personal bar and, currently, a bare Christmas tree, with a handful of boxes sitting besides it.

"Told the guys I wanted to feel some damn holiday cheer this winter and look at this." He motions towards the tree. "They pulled through for once in their sad lives. Now, as you may notice, it's looking pretty fucking sad, but that's where you come in." Arms spread open wide like his smile. "You, my dear, are going to help me decorate this thing."

He spots what must be either confusion or disbelief cross her face, because he soon adds, "You must be wondering why I don't have one of my many wives helpin' me instead. Don't you worry, I've got plenty of things lined up for them to help me get into the Christmas spirit." He keeps it vague on purpose; lets her come to her conclusions. "And let's be honest, you could use a break from all that back breaking work you do for me." Not the best kind of 'back breaking,' but by some miracle he manages to keep that one to himself. "I might even pour you a drink."

Some time later, the tree is wrapped in white lights and silver garland rests across the fireplace mantel. Raven turns down his offer to have a drink -- Negan has no fucking clue why -- but he still grabs himself a beer as they work their way through boxes of frosted silver, gold, and red bulb ornaments. He encourages them to share stories of Christmas from before the world fell, and he's pretty sure he sees Raven crack a smile or two. Soon enough the tree is covered, and Negan takes a dramatic step back to take it all in after he finishes it off with a gold star at the top.

"I don't know about you, but I think we did pretty fucking good! Look at it; there's so much Christmas cheer radiating off this thing, I'm about to start singing carols."

Hands on his hips, Negan turns to her, lifting a palm into the air. And -- maybe just to appease him, maybe not -- Raven doesn't leave him hanging, and gives him a high-five.

When she had been called out of her makeshift garage, Raven had spent the entire time creating a list of things that could have gotten her in trouble. Always having a bit of an issue with authority, there were definitely things that could warrant punishment. 'Innocent until prove guilty...right?’ She thought to herself, making sure to keep her lips tight as the two men lead her to Negan, ignoring any gross comment thrown her way with nothing more than a sharp side eye or a blank stare. 

Her arms were crossed when she stepped into the parlor. Eyes fell on the Pine and her brows furrowed, defensively confused. She listened quietly, waiting for Negan to explain. He wasn’t exactly one to let things speak for themselves, enjoying his own voice too much for that. It was definitely one of the weirder things that’s happened to her, but at least it wasn’t an iron to the face. If he wanted company decorating a Christmas tree, then so be it. It wasn’t exactly like she had anywhere else to go, though she did have some cars to work on.  “Sure,” She said hesitantly with a shrug of her shoulders, walking over to one of the boxes. When she opened it, it smelled like mothballs and something stale. She carefully pulled out an old crocheted blanket covering a few smaller plastic boxes filled with ornaments. At first, she was a quiet and stiff, listening to his stories as she cleaned the dust off the ornaments with the blanket. By the time she started putting the ornaments on the actual tree, she even found herself giving a soft laugh at one of his jokes. It was more of a huff, but it was something. 

“Never decorated a tree before,” She admitted, sharing a little glimpse of her own life as an apology for rejecting the drink. Her mother’s addiction robbed her of a lot of experiences. Christmas was one of them. “My boyfriend’s family was Jewish, so we celebrated Hanukkah.” Finn had been very sweet, allowing her into his family and sharing his culture with her. Sometimes, she felt left out of all the Christmas stuff but she stopped caring after a while. There was a numb pain in her chest, remembering exchanging gifts with Finn. At least he didn’t have to deal with the apocalypse anymore... Raven went quiet again, but it was more comfortable than it had been in the beginning. 

As Negan added the final touch, Raven hummed in agreement. They did do a pretty good job with the stuff they had. It looked a bit incohesive, but it made it feel more... homely. As he threatened to sing, Raven even felt comfortable enough to poke at him. 

“Please don’t.” As he raised his hand and waited, Raven sighed exaggeratedly and gave him a half assed Highfive. He kinda deserved it since he had been less obnoxious than usual. 

[savedpeople]

🎄 From Raven

Send ‘🎄’ for our muses to decorate a christmas tree together. | Not Accepting | @offeatherandbone

"Pretty fucking cool, right? The tree, I mean, though I know this whole place must look damn luxurious to you."

Compared to the rest of the Sanctuary, it is; that's because they're currently in the parlor where Negan's wives spend much of their time -- though they're notably absent now -- down the hall from the leader's own living quarters. A room of leather and velvet, fancy-ass decorative pillows and chandeliers, a selection of wines at a personal bar and, currently, a bare Christmas tree, with a handful of boxes sitting besides it.

"Told the guys I wanted to feel some damn holiday cheer this winter and look at this." He motions towards the tree. "They pulled through for once in their sad lives. Now, as you may notice, it's looking pretty fucking sad, but that's where you come in." Arms spread open wide like his smile. "You, my dear, are going to help me decorate this thing."

He spots what must be either confusion or disbelief cross her face, because he soon adds, "You must be wondering why I don't have one of my many wives helpin' me instead. Don't you worry, I've got plenty of things lined up for them to help me get into the Christmas spirit." He keeps it vague on purpose; lets her come to her conclusions. "And let's be honest, you could use a break from all that back breaking work you do for me." Not the best kind of 'back breaking,' but by some miracle he manages to keep that one to himself. "I might even pour you a drink."

Some time later, the tree is wrapped in white lights and silver garland rests across the fireplace mantel. Raven turns down his offer to have a drink -- Negan has no fucking clue why -- but he still grabs himself a beer as they work their way through boxes of frosted silver, gold, and red bulb ornaments. He encourages them to share stories of Christmas from before the world fell, and he's pretty sure he sees Raven crack a smile or two. Soon enough the tree is covered, and Negan takes a dramatic step back to take it all in after he finishes it off with a gold star at the top.

"I don't know about you, but I think we did pretty fucking good! Look at it; there's so much Christmas cheer radiating off this thing, I'm about to start singing carols."

Hands on his hips, Negan turns to her, lifting a palm into the air. And -- maybe just to appease him, maybe not -- Raven doesn't leave him hanging, and gives him a high-five.

[lcec0ldheart]

Random OC stuff of the day #2: What if the trio was in pokémon horizons?

I’m gonna be honest, I haven’t been feeling too good over the past day and I’m hella tired. I got ideas but i dont feel like writing them djdjddj so have something i cooked on priv

Sorry for the twitter jumpscare lmao but yeah. Explorers AU. At first I was like “found family for Violet and Amethio finally has someone his age to be around🎉” i kinda want to write a fic about that lol at some point but now I’m thinking about how hellish it would be to be Spinel’s subordinate if you’re not named Frankie (great oc btw she’s a cool oc by gem-in-the-horizon), especially since he’s so young and traumatized already. I’d imagine Spinel would have a fun time breaking him.

We saw what he did to Liko, without showing any remorse, now if he had complete power over this 15 year old kid that’s working for him? I think he’d be even worse. Spinel likes messing with people because he’s curious and its entertaining. Spinel’s a smart cunning guy who doesn’t care and that’s kind of terrifying

I may draw my ocs in pokémon soonish, although Frost did originate frm a pokemon rp anyways lol

(TW: Mind manipulation, memory erasure, also generally a guy taking advantage of a kid and mentally grooming him, this was hard for me to write too)

It starts relatively mild, at first.

Comments about how he’s been failing lately, how he’s looking more tired, how he’s not been enough. It hurts, of course, but Frost’s been through it before

Then Spinel starts testing with him.

Putting him in situations to see how a kid would cope with it. Making him do things that are completely against who Frost is. Molding him into something he’s not.

Eventually, Spinel begins to use his Beeheeyem, sometimes hovering over Frost, watching his every move, altering his memories, state of mind, what he thinks about, hell even trying to change who he is, trying to make him into Spinel’s sidekick. His toy. His tool.

It starts working. It took a while to, Spinel doesn’t mind playing the long game, and it’s more entertaining for him anyways, seeing it all drawn out. It was mild, at first, just forgetting where he was before the explorers, having some difficulty recalling what he was into before them, then it became forgetting people before the explorers, and he starts forgetting about his life before he was forced under Spinel entirely. There’s some people he can vaguely remember that stick for some reason, like this kid he met when he was 5 with those bright purple eyes, but other than that, he doesn’t know. He can’t remember.

~~~

Why should I leave? There’s no where else for me to go to. The explorers have always been my home. I’m meant to serve here. I’m destined to, it’s my very purpose, i am here to serve Master Spinel.

That is what I’m good for, and so, I’ll do whatever he desires. If master wants it, I want it. I will do whatever it takes. If I die, oh well, at least I served him well. But that would make me worthless, because I’m here to be his most valuable tool, and I can’t do that if I’m broken.

I’m happy here. This is my home -this is where I am from, and this is where I’ll stay. I am his -and I always will be, because I am Master Spinel’s most valuable possesion. That is what I am. I’m Spinel’s gem -and that’s all I will be. I’m happy with this.

Right?

~~~ OUGH THAT GOT DARK JESUS CHRIST I AM SO SORRY. This is why you dont let me on tumblr past 9 pm-

Anyways uh, if you managed to not be scared off by that, hope you have a good day, i am sorry this was short ive just been tired and today was kinda sucky so. see you tomorrow I guess

[thepenultimateword]

Hello I bring cookies as offering 🍪🍪🍪

I know you just posted my mistake part 2 but would you be up for part 3/q brief epiloge?

I found your writtinf in the middle of the night and I love it!

Sorry, this took such a long time! Thank you so much! I’m glad you’ve liked my writing! 😊

Part One, Part Two

Villain immediately tried to shut the door. However, at the same moment Villain swung their arm, the hero sort of threw themselves forward, slamming into the stained cedar with both hands and stumbling straight through the doorframe and into Villain's chest.

"Ugh." Villain took them by the shoulders and straightened them back up on their feet. The cookie box, still clutched tightly in both hands, now sported a sizeable dent along its front side.

"S-sorry," Hero said, taking a quick step backward, though not long enough to move out the door. They were in civilian clothes today, not even wearing a mask. Villain vaguely wondered if the academy repaired their suit yet. Surely, yes. So were they stupid or did they just not care? After all, Villain had already seen their face once.

Villain sighed. "What are you doing here?"

"I...um...well...you saved my life a few months ago. And um, my legs too. And they're all healed up now." They lifted one leg in the air and immediately winced, catching themself before they fell into a bigger stumble once again. "Or, almost. Everything's still a little tender. But I still wanted to say...thank you?"

They shoved out the cookie box, and though thoughts of traps and poison filled Villain's head, they reluctantly accepted it into their hands. A bit of green frosting smeared the plastic window into the box, but Villain could make out a double chocolate chip and a pumpkin swirl cookie with their name practically written right on them.

Wait. No. This didn't make any sense.

"The only reason you were in danger is because I put you there. Why would you thank me for doing the bare minimum of decency?"

"I feel like you must have had a good reason." Hero shrugged a little helplessly. Their words were a little uncertain, a little shy. Like they were waiting for Villain to confirm it for them. For someone to lead them to the right conclusion.

That reminded Villain...

“How old are you?”

Hero's eyes widened a little before they glued to the floor. They were a decently large person, but they seemed to shrink in on themself. When they spoke, it was barely above a whisper. “19.”

"What?" Villain said, more out of disbelief than need for repetition.

"I'm...I'm 19. Er...I had a birthday a couple months ago."

Villain cursed retreating numbly into their lair to set the cookies on their kitchen counter and using their newly freed hands to lean on the cool marble. No denying it now. They almost killed a kid.

After a few secret deep breaths, they glared over their shoulder. “How is that possible?"

The young hero had stupidly followed them into the depths of their home. If Villain were a worse person, one of those sadistic villains, they could have killed them.

Hero squirmed a little, face flushing a light shade of pink. “I just…I did really good in the academy, and I graduated early, and everyone wanted a fresh new hero to take {Hero's} place, so I agreed.”

“And your parents were fine with that?”

Laws aside, what sort of guardians let their child, at the very cusp of adulthood no less, put themselves in life-threatening danger?

“Well, um, I’m an academy baby,” Hero smiled weakly.

Villain narrowed their eyes. “What is that?”

“Someone abandoned there. The academy will feed and clothe practically anyone, so a lot of people leave kids there when they’re stuck. There are quite a few popular heroes that were left. The academy raises us.”

"And the law?" This was the orphanage incident all over again. Now instead of plucking children off the streets or out of homes, they were just having them handed to them. Kids who had no business being put into such a dangerous and high-pressure lifestyle.

"Oh um...I don't think I'm allowed to talk about that."

"It's a simple yes or no question. Are they aware of your age? Are they intentionally breaking the law?"

Hero shuddered a little at Villain's growl. "Sort of yes and sort of no... Most kids don't see fieldwork; their days are just training and mock missions. But um...some of us...those who advance very quickly, are sometimes...given the opportunity to begin hero work before coming of age...under aliases."

Villain clenched their fists. They wanted to scream, to rage, to burn that sappy lie of a hero school from the face of the earth.

“Ummm..." Hero said uncertainty, interrupting Villain's brooding. "I had a few questions… about the previous hero?"

"And what are you expecting me to say?" Villain snapped.

The hero flinched.

Villain’s bitter heart stalled a little at their fear. They almost reached out, almost apologized, but then they caught themself. Apologize for what? This was their relationship. Villain and hero. Enemies. Just because Hero was younger than they should be didn't mean that Villain should go easy on them. They were old enough to make decisions. Old enough to know right from wrong. Old enough to fight.

Hero swallowed and slowly lifted their gaze. "The academy teaches us he was the best to ever protect this city, but I just wanted your outside perspective. From the way it sounded...he did something really, really...bad."

Villain blinked. "You're asking me?"

Hero nodded.

"Didn't the academy warn you about villainous indoctrination?"

Another nod.

"So don't you think I could be lying? Shouldn't you be looking up records in your precious academy library?"

"I...I just don't believe that you would have hurt me for nothing." Hero cringed a little, as if mentioning that day were painful in itself. "Or that you would have stopped so quickly when you learned I was innocent. You thought I killed someone. You attacked out of vengeance and pain, not malice. And I...I think that's the story I should believe."

Villain stared at them for a long moment.

"I can't believe they gave you Hero's name," Villain said finally.

"Oh, um, why?"

"You're too earnest.”

“Thank you?”

Villain broke the seal on the cookie box with their fingernail and held it out experimentally to the young do-gooder. Hero hesitated a moment but then picked out a red velvet cookie and took a careful bite. Villain watched them chew for several seconds before plucking out the double chocolate chip for themself.

“Hero was—is—an awful person.” They leaned their elbows back on the countertop, and Hero hastily took a seat in one of the kitchen chairs, straight backed and at attention. “It’s true he took out a lot of the worst villains, but he don’t think for a second he did it out of the kindness of his heart. He has always been an egotistical, greedy man, and the academy heedlessly fed his appetites because he benefited them. Almost like feeding a feral dog and expecting it be a good guard for your home.”

“What did he do?” Hero asked hesitantly.

“Killed people.” Villain had to be blunt. They had to be abrupt. If they didn’t they might get emotional, and they really weren’t in the mood for barefaced feelings.

“M-maybe he had to?”

Villain scoffed. “He didn’t have to do anything. That monster had enough power to show mercy, he just didn’t care to put in the effort. All he cared about was fast solutions and big paychecks.”

Villain’s cookie crumbled in their hand. They quickly set the pieces on the countertop before their anger could break it into crumbs.

“You…said a name. When…” Hero stopped, swallowing hard and then starting again. “That day, you said the name ‘Sidekick’. Who…”

Villain averted their eyes to the ground. They weren’t going to give the kid anymore than they needed to. They might be an innocent naive fledgling of a hero, but they still had the academy’s teachings written in their head and on their heart.

“Just someone I knew.”

“Someone close to you?”

“I’m done.”

“And Hero killed them?”

“I said I’m done. Thank you for the cookies; you’re welcome for not killing you. We don’t really need to say anything else to each other.”

Hero paused. Their fingers closed tightly around the legs of their jeans, and they shifted a couple times in their seat.

“I know it’s a lot to ask…but do you think…maybe…I could…crash here for a bit?”

Villain blinked. “What? No. Go back home to your bunk bed at the academy.”

“I…I don’t know if I can trust them. I don’t know. I just feel freaked out.”

The kid raised their eyes, big and fearful, to Villain’s. Villain held their gaze coldly. Stare downs were their speciality. Or they usually were when the people in front of them were making a challenge and not looking like a lost puppy.

Something in Villain’s chest shifted, and some of the lukewarm pity they’d been keeping at bay leaked into the cavity.

This was so stupid.

“Huuuuugh. One day. You can stay one day while you get your feelings in order. But you better not mess up my schedule.”

Hero perked up. “I won’t! I can help!”

“Help?” Villain smirked, raising one brow.

“Er…with the less villainous parts…”

“Fair enough. Do you need like…a toothbrush or…?”

“I brought my things with me! They’re outside with my bike!”

Villain rubbed the bridge of their nose between their thumb and forefinger. “Of course you did. Go get them.”

The hero shot out of their seat and darted down the hall toward the front door. The door squealed open and slammed behind them.

Villain sighed, rubbing their palms into their eyes and dragging them up into their hair. What were they even doing? They couldn’t do this again.

Master Taglist:

@moss-tombstone @crazytwentythrees @just-1-lonely-person @the-vagabond-nun @willow-trees-are-beautiful @cocoasprite @insanedreamer7905 @valiantlytransparentwhispers @whovian378 @watercolorfreckles @thebluepolarbear @yulanlavender @kitsunesakii @deflated-bouncingball @lem-hhn @office-plant-in-a-trenchcoat @ghostfacepepper @pigeonwhumps @demonictumble @inkbirdie @vuvulia @bouncyartist @lunatic-moss-studio @breilobrealdi @freefallingup13 @i-am-a-story-goblin @ryunniez @rainy-knights-of-villany @distractedlydistracted @saspas-corner @echoednonny @perilous-dreamer @blood-enthusiast @randomfixation

[mytemporarycomfort]

A good partner for sparing

A/N: Revali is such a little brat. You can\t change my mind.

Summary: Revali doesn't know how to deal with his feelings.

Revali x Reader

Hanahaki Disease: is a fictional disease where the victim of unrequited or one-sided love begins to vomit or cough up the petals and flowers of a flowering plant growing in their lungs, which will eventually grow large enough to render breathing impossible if left untreated.

“Champion Revali, this is (Y/N). She is here to help me.” Zelda said, looking at you. “She is one of the best aerial fighters we’ve got from the castle. I believe you both can learn from each other.”

“Nice to meet you Champion. It is my pleasure.”

“A Hylian? Good at aerial fighting eh? We will see about that.‘ Revali scoffed. 

The thing was, you were good. You were great in fact. It didn't take him long to figure it out. He didn’t want to admit it, you taught him a fair few tricks in fighting lower to the ground.You were a good sparring partner. You managed to keep up with him while staying so kind and soft. 

He was in so much denial at first. Revali fell hard and fast for you and that freaked him out. Like he fell in love with you so much to the point that he was daydreaming about settling down with you. But, oh my god, you were so kind to him despite his attitude. He tried to be rash with you, be harsh with you, just to get you to hate him and to leave him, but you treated him with such gentleness. 

You knew that he was working hard. You saw a lot of improvements in him from when he started to spar with you till now. He always had this arrogant smirk on his face but what drew you to him was that despite the front he put up, he was so soft with the young fledglings in the village. You were learning a lot about him and when his front was up or not. It was quite easy to see his emotions past the wall he put up. You loved the softer moments he had, and as much as his arrogant side would show up, you were able to take it into stride. 

His chest tightens as the days move on and he struggles to hide the rose petals that fall out of his beak. He felt like people were all judging him when he was all flustered from a coughing fit. He would shove all the loose petals down his pocket and grumble about how annoying this was. When this happens more and more frequently, he panics. He starts to hide from you because he’s too proud to say anything first. 

Revali asked Daruk to pile up stones in front of the flight range and Daruk was so confused, but okay, for another fellow champion, Daruk wasn’t gonna question it too much. It can’t stop the other Ritos from checkin up on him, but it would stop you, right? Sort of. You were determined to find out why he was ignoring you so much. What did you do wrong?

You walked to the flight range to find him to only see it blocked off. You can hear the bomb arrows going off and Revali coughing. Worrying for his safety, you scaled up the covered entrance to the flight range and saw petals falling down from everywhere. It was beautiful honestly. The rose petals had a sheen of frost to them before they were able to hit the ground.

Before you know it, Revali comes falling down nearly on top of you. He looks like shit, in all honesty. His feathers are all over the place. There’s a couple of rose petals stuck between his ruffled up feathers, he looks like he’s been eating dust. You stare at him unimpressed. You know what this was. You’re not stupid. He avoids looking at you. He knows you’re there and he has the audacity to try to walk it off, away from you. Revali gagged a bit more before he stumbled closer to the edge of the ground.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

“To train.”

“In this state?” You said vaguely gesturing to the petals around the flight range. 

“Yeah.”

“No you’re not.”

“Yeah? Well what are you gonna do about it” He said, turning back to you.

You walk up to him and kiss him on his beak.He goes so quiet. He looked so flustered. But at least he’s not coughing up a storm anymore. When you let go, you whack him on the side of his head and call him a doofus. 

“If you would’ve just told me like a normal person, you wouldn’t be like that for this long! I love you too, you massive idiot!”

He really should’ve just told you. He made you so worried to the point where you wanted to give him the silent treatment, but how could you. After you calmed yourself down from all the worry and anxiety, you sat him down. 

“Revali, look, If it was something I’ve done to make you feel uncomfortable with you sharing your feelings with me, I apologise, but I really have learnt to care for you. Please, talk to me.” You shyly said to him. All the adrenaline left you and the cold was finally setting into your bones. 

Revali was tired from hiding it all at this point. It hurt him and it still hurt despite the receding feeling of the flowers that once wrapped around his ribs. He didn’t want you to think that it was your fault because it wasn’t. He wrapped his wings around you. 

“You’re shivering, (Y/N). I’ll take you home.” He gently helped you onto his back and flew back to the village. It was a lot quicker this way than just walking and from guessing how tightly you clung onto him, you were definitely in need of a nice fire and soup.

He set you down in his room and covered you in all the blankets he could get. The fire pit in the middle of his room did wonders to your freezing hands but it still didn’t stop the shivering that you’ve developed. He looked worryingly over you. 

“What else can I do?” He looked over at you.

You shifted yourself so that there was room underneath the blankets. You looked up at him pleadingly. You knew it was going to be hard for him to accept any kind of physical affection, but in the moment, you really hoped that he would do it for you. It was private and it was after dark. God you hoped this was it, that this would help each other grow closer bit by bit. 

He looked hesitant, but relented. He shuffled into the pile of blankets until he was seated nearly behind you. He was so warm and cosy. 

“I really do care for you, Revali, you know that right?”

At those words, he tightened his wings around you. You felt his head rested on your shoulder and snuggled in a bit more. 

“I…I care a lot about you too.”