#CANNOT believe i forgot to tag that initially i am so sorry

[suolainensilakka]

Had a stressful day and then spent the rest of the evening making a compilation of Terra eye closeups to cope. Did not even remotely help with making me feel more normal but at least now I have much more extensive and obvious comparisons of his ffucking enormous prettyboy disney princess lashes oh my god what is his ISSUE

[xonepeacelovex]

my cinderella prince

Pairing: Mark Tuan x Reader

Genre: Angst and Fluff | Friends to Lovers AU

Summary: You’ve been waiting for a text message but you got different message this time.

Warning: Alcohol consumption. Also not proofread. 

A/N: This is the result of binge reading all of Mark Tuan’s fan fictions. This is also my first GOT7 fanfiction. I know I did an incorrect quotes before for GOT7. :) Anyway, this is lowkey based on real life and I wrote this for closure because I had enough of the waiting game. I’m letting people go so new ones can come in in my life. Feel free to send me a message or ask. Thank you for reading!

10... 9... 8...

Everyone around you is shouting the countdown and already popping the bottle of champagne. Different colors and shapes of fireworks light up the night sky, making everyone more excited and at awe. 

7... 6... 5... 

Four seconds before the clock strikes 12, and the beginning of the new year. You look at your phone and scroll the notifications. You are met with notifications from Instagram from the pictures you are tagged in and a few last minute greetings from your family and friends. Deciding to answer the greetings later you press the power button of your phone. Getting the open bottle of red wine and pouring yourself a drink. Finally smiling, relieved that the year is ending. Quietly joining the countdown. 

3... 2... 1...

People clinking their glasses and you simply raises yours, smiling warmly to everyone. You sip from your glass and started greeting everyone a happy new year. Though New Year’s Eve is something you always celebrated, you sometimes still get overwhelm with how noisy it can be. 

After drinking everything on your glass, you put it down on the table and started your little quest of finding a quiet place in this party. You followed a couple heading upstairs, head shaking at how the holidays spread love and happiness in the air and somehow forgot someone like you. You found an open empty balcony, a perfect place to clearly see the fireworks.

You felt your phone vibrates on your pocket, instinctively getting it. You open your phone, a smile on your face, kinda expecting a message from a particular person, only for your smile to turn into frown when it is another notification from Instagram. 

Disappointment should be the last emotion you should feel tonight. Yet somehow, you cannot stop yourself from feeling it, mostly for the fact that he didn’t missed a single greeting for the last 10 years. Sighing deeply, trying to shake off the sadness bubbling in your chest. 

Looking up, the fireworks are still decorating the sky. In some way, being alone makes you feel less lonely. Downstairs everyone has someone to put their arms around and kiss when the clock strikes 12. Here, in a balcony, watching the night sky alone, actually makes you feel good. Promising yourself that this year you will celebrate your birthday and new year on a beach, somewhere where it is okay to be alone and not look at with pity because you don’t have someone beside you. 

Perhaps its the alcohol taking over your system, the one responsible for your thoughts. Who told you its a good thing to pre game before coming to a New Year’s Eve party, where you’ll surely drink just before your limit? Slowly breathing in the polluted air of the city, hoping it will help you sober up a little.

You left the balcony in search for a bottle of water, you cannot let yourself get too drunk. When you found a glass of clear liquid, you drank it immediately without much thinking it will be an alcohol in which it is. You take a sharp breath, feeling the burn in your throat. Feeling light headed you immediately went back to your own little space for a fresh air. 

And possibly it is really the alcohol taking over your system when you saw a familiar face in the balcony. Mark Tuan. 

You stumbled forward, not believing that the man you waited a text message from for a whole night is in front of you. Steadying yourself, you take a careful steps this time, towards Mark. Where you think you looked like shit, he is casually leaning against the balcony rail, looking handsome and cool. You think, he didn’t remember you at all at how he just stare at you or maybe its because he knows you and cannot believe that you are drunk already. 

Ten years is a long time to change. And high school for you is the worst era of your life so it should not be a surprised that you will be different from what he knew back then and the same goes for him. 

After a long time, you finally reached the balcony, grabbing the rail for support. You can see clearly now his face and from the way he smiles at you, you know he knows you. You returned his smile with a grin, “Tuan,” greeting him like before. “Y/L/N,” he replied, smiling widely this time. 

You forced yourself to look at the fireworks and stop the urge to keep staring at Mark, breathing in the air to sober you up. With the faint noise of people chattering in the background, he said to you softly, “Happy New Year.”  Blissfully, or in reality half yelling, you greeted him back “Happy New Year!”, looking at him in the eyes.

It is silly to be disappointed at him for not greeting you on your birthday when you are barely friends even back in high school. Besides he just message you every December 31 and after that like a silent agreement between you two, no one will dare to start a conversation for a whole year unless its December 31 again. 

Once in a while, Mark crosses your mind and in some way you always felt a connection between you two. You maybe treat each other as a friend or less than that but you always knew the relationship is special because what kind of friends only texted each other once in a year. 

It is funny to back read your conversation, it is only every December 31. The thought that you never greeted him in his birthday made you feel guilty. In addition to that guilt, you felt disappointed at him because he didn’t greet you yesterday when you never greeted him. Losing the smile on your face, you simply look up again at the sky. 

It is not a baseless assumption but an educated intuition, you like to word it like that, that maybe Mark really did have feelings for you. You are not a kind of person to believe in rumors especially if it is not from him directly. But all of your friends before always teases you to Mark. Whenever that happened, he just say sorry to you and you’ll dismiss it like a joke because of how embarrassed he looks like. Not wanting to be awkward with each other because of the teasing. So even though everyone says Mark likes you, you go ahead and found yourself a boyfriend. The teasing stopped and Mark also stayed away from you. That’s why him greeting you after high school surprised you because he knows and he apparently still treats you as a friend.

Definitely, you still like to avoid awkwardness so when the silence filled the room, you decided you should already go home. Even though 10 years is a long time to gather enough stories to entertain each other. Letting go of the balcony rail, leaning against it instead. Mark also lets go of the rail, this time turning his body to you. 

You chuckle at how awkward you both are, no one is expecting to see each other. “I’ll get going,” you said to him, standing up straight now. You don't want to seem drunk to Mark so you tried your best to walk straightly not until he stop you by grabbing your arm. Pulling you towards him, making you dizzy, stumbling upon him. “Wait,” he said while balancing you in his arms, “I have something to say,” that made you even more dizzy. 

Putting your hands against his chest for support, you tried to stand up alone. When you did, you remove your hands from his body, “Go ahead,” you replied to him.

“Happy birthday,” the greeting you are waiting for. Heart beating wildly against you chest, you smile at him, genuinely happy that he didn’t forget, “Thank you.”  

After this night, you’ll never see him again. You are sure. No need for your heart to beat fast for him, because like before, there will be no words spoken and the hearts will still remain clueless. And you can’t play this game anymore, not when you feel emotions you didn’t felt before for him like disappointment and guilt. Because he’s just a friend who always remember your birthday, nothing more, nothing less. You will not ask for more from the universe, you started walking away. You are maybe, once again, taking Mark for granted. Actually you’ll never know because he never said anything, leaving you in the middle.

What Mark did when he saw you leaving again after giving him that breathtaking smile was to pull you back... again. You found yourself in his arms, clinging to him. You are taken aback with Mark’s actions. You looked at him, confused, “Do you anything else to say?”, tired of this push and pull between you and Mark.

“Yes, and I hope I am not too late,” he said nervously, still holding your arms. You chuckle at him, “Mark, you already greeted me a happy birthday,” tilting your head to look at his eyes which is avoiding yours. “You also greeted me already a happy new year,” you reminded him. 

“No, it’s not about that,” this time he took a deep breath. “It took me years to finally have the courage and maybe a glass of wine to tell you this,” he stopped,  holding your hands in his, “I like you since high school,” he confessed and that left you speechless. “I want to talk to you everyday but I don’t have an excuse except when its your birthday,” Mark continued. “It’s okay if you don-,” that’s when you decided to cut him off with a kiss that surprised him initially but he returned with the same eagerness. 

“Finally, I’ve been waiting for this,” smiling, you whispered against his lips. Mark also smiles, biting his lower lip when he heard you say those words. Now you know why Mark just messages you once in a year. 

Copyright © 2021 xonepeacelovex All rights reserved.

[lilyharvord]

The Chain (Part 10)

Main concept: Two love struck idiots get sent back to a pretty UGH time period in their lives (that required me to reread all the books again) and have to hide the fact that they know everything.  

Find the rest of the fic here: part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9

Tag list: @delilahlbard, @king-maven-calore, @thatoddgirl777, @elliekratzzz, @evangelineartemiasamos, @evangeline-of-montfort, @scxrletguardsdawn, @freaky-freiday, @petergrantkavinsky, @kuwei, @whatsup-gorls, @katiemoore,  @redqueenetwork, @tranquil-dusk (I’m trying to add you but for some reason it wont @… the same problem happens with @thatoddgirl777 and I have no idea how to fix it)

(/Mare/)

I’ve been freed from Protocol for the time being. Cal pulls the same strings as last time, and I am put into Training. It makes my blood sing to know that I am going to be joining him there too. One more place where we can protect each other and plan without anyone knowing. We are a secret, united front that the Silver’s will never see coming.

         It’s been a week since my first meeting with Farley. I almost expected Maven not to show up to join us, but just as he did before, he appeared out of the shadows with the servant Holland. He was just as full of the righteous fire I remembered, smiling at me and promising things he will never give. Swearing fealty to Farley and her cause for the good of everyone. I wish I had the courage to ask him if he had meant those things.

         I’d gone back to my rooms cold and shaken, feeling in all senses of the word numb. Walsh had to practically guide me back to avoid me taking wrong turns and getting lost. In bed, I drown in the memories of the future that I am rapidly stumbling towards, trying to keep my head up as the tides suck me deeper. I toss and turn for hours, kicking the blankets off before pulling them back on when I wake from my hazy doze shivering uncontrollably because of invisible silent stone walls.

         I’d slipped through the secret door in my closet and felt my way through the dark tunnel to Cal’s rooms. It was silent in them, not even the sound of his breathing disturbed the space. Sure enough, his bed was empty and neatly made. He wasn’t even in Summerton. I’d sunk onto the bed before slipping under the blankets and burying myself in his smell.

         I’d woken to warm hands lifting me out of the blankets. Gripping his shirt, I’d whispered sleepily to him as he carried me back to my rooms. His voice was soft as he’d replied with a gentle, “you’re fine. I’ve got you.” I had to enter my room alone though, just to avoid the cameras seeing him.

         Now standing in the training room a week later, I still can’t shake the blanket of cold that envelopes me. Dread pools in my stomach the closer we get to the Ball and the closer I get to those names Maven will deliver. Everything is working perfectly, I have no reason to worry. And yet, a part of me quivers with nerves. Maven is as charming as ever, but something bubbles behind his eyes. Maybe it’s because I know what to look for now and I see it. But I had been just as untrustworthy the first time around. I would have seen it then too.

         Standing off to the side with my arms crossed I watch the young Silvers prepare for a session of tearing each other apart. Inhaling slowly, I take in the scent of the freshly washed matts and the summer breeze from the open windows. It’s been sweltering for the past few days, and sure enough a bead of sweat rolls down between my shoulder blades, tracing the track of my spine.

         On the other side of the training room, Cal catches my eye. He quirks a brow before pushing off the wall he’s leaning against. Strolling across the room, he tucks his hands into the pockets of his training jacket. When we’re standing side by side he rolls his shoulders a few times and says, “I’m sorry that I wasn’t there a few nights ago.”

         “You were off being a crown prince.” I say and wave my hand for emphasis, “doing crown prince things.” My lips quirk up a little bit at the edges when his frown deepens. I haven’t teased him much since we got stuck here, I forgot how much fun it is.

         “I won’t lie; I did think someone put a dead body in my bed.”

         “Don’t be dramatic.” I tease him, hiding my smile behind my hand. On the other side of the room, Evangeline holds court around the targets. She hasn’t made any moves like she did in the breakfast room weeks ago, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have something planned. If I recall, today is dueling day, and this was when she decided to take a piece out of my face.

         “Hard for him not be, he’s so very good at it.” Maven’s voice cuts the air between us like a knife. I spin to face him quickly, throwing up a smile to hide the fear that rushes through me. He tilts his head to the side and smiles as well. “What is he being dramatic about now?”

         Cal clears his throat, and hides his discomfort with a laugh. Setting his hand on Maven’s shoulder and squeezing he says lightly, “something to do with Shadow Legion. It’s been… difficult.”

         If Maven is fooled by our game, I cannot tell. A part of me sends a silent prayer that he didn’t hear anything. But a smarter part of me chastises myself for even falling prey to my fears and searching out Cal. Have I doomed us with my little slip up?

         “So I’ve heard, has Rhambos been giving you trouble again?” Maven grins at Cal in the way only brother’s sharing a private joke can.

         “You have no idea.” Cal’s relief is near invisible, and I have to force my own to be that way as Maven comes to stand next to me. His eyes dart to me and he gives me a small, tentative smile. I return it, wondering exactly what is going through his mind. What I wouldn’t give to be a Whisper just so I can know if we are in the clear.

         He turns his eyes forward as Arven calls Tirana forward to duel. His name comes next, and as he leaves my side, the little bubble of heat I didn’t notice him exuding leaves with him. His shoulders are tense as he steps into the makeshift arena to face the nymph. Next to me, Cal’s hands clench into fists.

         When he comes sulking out, dripping water all over the floor, his eyes are burning. They dart to me and soften for a heartbeat before hardening once more. Mercifully, Cal keeps his mouth shut and turns to watch the next match when Maven steps in between us. The air crackles with heat, and a few of the other Silvers take a step back, making it appear as if they are simply interested in something else.

         “Nothing to say?” Maven murmurs when Cal continues to sit in silence. My eyes dart to them, and my hand slowly closes in a fist at my side.

         “There’s nothing to say.”

         “You always have something to say, forgive me if it’s a surprise when you don’t.” Maven turns those eyes on Cal, and I imagine his stare could turn Cal into a puddle of human parts if he weren’t a burner as well. He’s instigating, something I never saw him do. Or maybe it’s happened before and I never got the chance to see it. Cal makes no move to show me panic, so maybe Maven being this bitter has occurred sometime in the past before I met them. Maybe nothing is wrong and he’s picking a fight because he’s upset about the embarrassment of his loss.

Straightening his shoulders, Cal turns a neutral look onto Maven, sweeping him over with his eyes. “You could have beat her if you had given her a bit more space. You were stronger than her the whole fight.” Cal assures, his eyes dancing to me for a moment. We both know that isn’t what he said last time. But this didn’t occur last time, and without a script Cal struggles.

Maven’s entire body tenses, even as his expression cools. It’s such an odd contradiction that I’m not quite sure what will happen next. Reaching out, I close my hand around his wrist and squeeze. He’s cold as ice, and I shiver involuntarily as my skin makes contact with his. I don’t know why I expected heat.

His flips around to look at my hand, his lips pursed in a tight line. I swallow my grimace and offer him a gentle, knowing smile.

“There will be more fights. More important fights.” I raise my brow, hoping he takes my hint. The anticipation of his reaction practically drives me to dig my nails into his skin. I’m surprised he doesn’t flip around and demand to challenge Cal right here, right now. It would be a short fight, but it would be no less damning.

His shoulders soften though, and his stance shifts to one of embarrassment. “Of course.” He murmurs, his other hand coming to rest on mine. “There always are.”

 Hiding my relief behind a smile, I try to pull my hand away. I can’t believe I thought he would actually go to blows with Cal. He’s smarter than that, and better at playing the long game than I give him credit for in the moment.  

Before I can pull my hand away completely, he grips it tighter and stares me down, daring me to pull away. He puts up the mask then, the one that I loved dearly and searched for during my months with him in Archeon.

 “Even if some battles are already lost.” He whispers as he leans close to me so his words are only for me.

He’s a desperate boy now. I can hear the ache in his voice. What does he know? What does his mother know? Nothing, I’m certain they know nothing. Elara didn’t get anything from me, and she hasn’t gotten anything from Cal. We’ve been careful enough, we’re never together in a way that anyone could question. We haven’t even gone into that moonlit room yet. I haven’t put a knife in Maven’s back yet. Maybe he was more jealous of my escapade to the Stilts than I initially noticed. That’s the only thing he has to work with, and maybe the fact that Cal and I were obviously teasing each other before training just now. He’d never been so outwardly jealous of Cal though. His jealousy was always a quietly simmering pot that never overflowed. He was so much more dangerous because of that.

Pulling away from me when I stay silent, he gives me a rueful smile and turns to face the arena where Elane and Sonya are tearing each other to pieces. I can’t focus though; my mind turns into a tail spin of panic. Have we slipped up? Did I damn us a few nights ago? Are we even off track? What if we are? What has changed?

I am so lost in my own thoughts I almost miss Evangeline demanding our fight. Lifting my eyes to her, I take in her gloating smile. She senses my panic, but has no inclination of the source.

Maven jumps to my defense like a cat would to a mouse. Evangeline doesn’t back down though. I should be grateful for this, at least something is back on track. It’s been a while since I’ve been glad for Evangeline Samos, and even though she is not my friend now, she is the closest thing I’ve seen since training started.

 (/////)

 Sitting in the darkness of my room that night, I watch the moonlight as it passes over the floor. Are the Sentinels watching me on their screens, wondering if I’ve lost my mind? I doubt it. Unless Elara had told them to keep a closer eye on me. I wouldn’t be surprised, when she’d corned me and Maven in the hallway I had felt her creeping in my mind, searching in the mirrored halls I’d barely had enough time to drag up to protect my memories.

Sighing, I let my head fall into my hands as I breathe. Focusing on the hum of the cameras, I follow the source of the electricity along the wires. The purr of the current fills my senses and drowns me. For a moment, I let myself just exist in the peaceful darkness behind my eyelids. Things will only get harder from here. I regret not tuning for Montfort more than anything now. 

A gentle knock on the door drags me out of my meditation. Raising my eyes to the door, I wrap my robe tighter around me as I stand. My steps are near silent as I creep across the room and crack open the door.

Leaning against the frame of the doorway, Cal looks more exhausted than I’ve ever seen him. With a shadow creeping along his jaw, he looks more like he did in Montfort. He was on the verge of doom and greatness here, and there too. He wears the years he’s already lived tonight in the bags under his eyes and the weariness of his shoulders. 

When he spots the sliver of my face behind the door, he gives me a tentative smile. “Up for a dance?” He asks quietly as I open the door a little wider. 

Nodding, I let him pull me out of my room and toward a moonlit room where I can at least pretend for a little while that I’m safe even if I’m the furthest from safe that I’ve ever been.

 (////)  

 In the hours leading up to the ball, while I am being painted and primed, the names Maven gave as targets ring through my head. When he had visited me late in the dark to tell me them, I had expected him to give me different names. I’d whisper to Cal that I thought I had messed up, and given us away. He’d tried to assure me that everything would alright. And when we kiss this time, there was a desperation to it. Like Maven, he is terrified to lose me, and he poured that fear into the kiss he gave me. 

Reynold Iral, Ptolemus Samos, Ellyn Macanthos. Belicos Leorlan. Those names chase me and haunt my waking hours. The prospect of them being wrong, and Maven adding more names, or different ones, haunts me even more. 

Belicos with his two young children who will die tonight too, Ptolemus Samos who will live to someday kill my brother but father a beautiful daughter with Wren, Colonel Macanthos with her sly eye that can see right through Elara’s schemes, and Reynold, a man I’m pretty sure is lost somewhere anyway dance behind my eyelids and in the corner of my eyes. I don’t think I will ever be rid of my ghosts. 

I couldn’t breathe when I stood before Mareena and saw her in the mirror. She was lovely and wicked in the light of my room, and I’m sure she’ll look the same way at the ball tonight. The dress is the same riotous mess of gemstones and purple fabric that I hate even more this time around, especially when I have to stand next to Maven and observe him in his beautiful charcoal suit. He is beautiful in it, as beautiful as I remember. It makes my stomach twist every time I look at him.

The pleasantries leave me just as breathless, and I can feel Evangeline’s eyes on me as she glares down the line at the people who are to come. It’s almost a relief when Maven pulls me out onto the balcony, just so that I can inhale fresh air. As we go, I feel the brush of Cal’s hand as he reaches back to catch my skirt. My eyes dart to him in warning, but he’s already hiding the movement behind setting his hand on Evangeline’s back and smiling at Belicos as he steps forward to greet them.

Even as Maven pulls me onto the balcony, my heart is pounding. Seeing Belicos a second time does nothing to ease the ache in my heart. His children, I remember their bodies laid out next to his like they were nothing. Was Maven’s emotion in the moment a scam? Had he felt anything seeing their little bodies. I don’t know what’s real and the closer we get to the moment, the more my fear increases. .

         “You’re giving them a father.” I whisper, the words like poison on my tongue. He’d give anything to topple the Guard, and he did give everything. Even if I hadn’t been enough to completely crush us. At the same time though, he wasn’t the one to truly give those names. Elara told him who to pick and he acted like a good little mouth piece.  He could have chosen not to give that name though. In the moment he could have chosen to spare a father and his children. He’d made that choice. I know he’s braver than he claims, especially where Elara is concerned. Farley was right to call him a coward.

         He lets go of me but doesn’t step away when I speak. He stays close instead, his hands just ghosting over my skin. He looks like a marble statue in the moonlight, his lips drawn in a tight line. Achingly beautiful, a boy on the cusp of manhood and his own demise, an angel teetering over the edge of the abyss. 

He backs me into the wall, his eyes like chips of ice in the pale plane of his face. Slowly he places his hands on either side of my head, trapping me so that I have to listen to him.

         “Reynald is a father, too. The Colonel has children of her own. Ptolemus is now engaged to the Haven girl. They all have people; they all have someone who will mourn them.” The words are forced and cold. A part of him believes those words but the larger part of him, the one Elara has groomed to be king someday knows it must be done. “We can’t pick and choose how to help the cause, Mare. We must do what we can, whatever the cost.”

         My skin feels like it’s alive. I might electrocute him right here, right now, until he backs away from me. I have half a mind to press my hand to his chest and shove him over the balcony. It would take one push, and I know all the weak points to knock someone of balance now. It would be so easy. I could claim it was the Scarlet Guard, that they appeared on the balcony and pushed him.

         His breath is warm on my face as he whispers, “I want this to be done with the least blood shed possible.”

         His hand trembles as he brings it up to brush his fingertips along my cheek, a ghost of a touch, like he can’t bear to let his skin connect with mine. “Tonight will change everything.”

         My heart pounds harder against my ribs as he pulls back enough to give me space. His eyes dance away from me and back to the line of dwindling nobles. The pleasantries are over, it’s time. Even if I’m not ready. I’ll never be ready though.

         The shadows break again and I recognize Cal’s familiar outline as he steps onto the balcony. “You two all right out here?” His expression is hesitant, probably worried that he’s interrupted a moment that I am supposed to be getting information. His eyes linger on me, his expression softening. These next moments will be the hardest. “You ready for this, Mare?”

         Maven jumps on my silence. “She’s ready.”

         Taking my arm in his, he pulls me along. He was never this aggressive with me. At least, not that I remember. Maybe I had been so blinded by my emotions of the night that I hadn’t realized how he was acting. He’s agitated though, and monsters are dangerous like that. 

         Still, Cal’s fingers brush against my wrist, his touch somehow colder than Maven’s. I wish he actually took my hand and held it. When I look over my shoulder at him, his expression is stormy. He’d never been so outwardly nervous about Maven. At least he’s not afraid. We know what comes tonight. I told him what to expect, and he knows what he has to do. I wonder if he will be able to put Farley through the pain of the Gilican shiver’s torture now. I have to rely on him to do just that though.

        Evangeline appears at his side, her jewel encrusted fingers enclosing his arm. She squeezes tightly when she sees my eyes lingering on him. 

     Oh Evangeline. I wish I could help her now. She has her own battle to fight though. 

         Maven’s lips almost brush my ear as he whispers to me, “This is the hard part.”

         Even with all the eyes on me, I don’t blush. He pulls me into the frame but his skin is warmer than I remember. And as we start the dance, his eyes never leave my face. What is he looking for there?

         As we move in the box formation, he raises a brow and his lips curl into a smile. “You’ve been practicing.”

         “A bit, didn’t want to step on your toes.” I reply with my own smile. I put as much true joy as I can behind it. 

           His eyes flash for a moment and he leans a little closer to whisper, “You’re just full of surprises.” He chuckles, and the grin he gives me as he pulls back makes my stomach flutter. There is the boy that had captured my trust and my heart. I turn away at the sight of it, my stomach dropping.

         I spot Cal spin Evangeline, who looks more like a glittering ball of spikes than a human. I’m surprised she doesn’t slice Cal’s hands open when he rests them on the back of the dress. I miss her more casual regalia that she wears in Montfort. I never saw her casual outfits that she wore here, but I imagine she carried that style into Ascendant.

Sensing my gaze, Cal’s eyes meet mine. His fingers close around Evangeline’s waist, and a million memories of him doing the same thing with me come back. I can almost feel his hand sliding around my waist in the tiny living room of our apartment as he hums the song playing on the radio. I can remember laying my head on his chest and listening to his heartbeat and the sound of his humming reverberating in his chest. He can’t carry a tune to save his life, but it is still wonderful.

We spin through two songs until I feel dizzy with anticipation. Just when I think Maven will pull me to the side though, he leans close to me. I almost pull away, but instead force myself to stay close and turn my head slightly to give him a shy smile. His eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen them though.

         “I told you that everything changes tonight.” He breathes against my ear. I nod, confused where this is going. “And I do have to admit that I’ve… kept something from you.”

What? What is he getting at? I pull away, panic flaring through me as I search that face for the truth. He’s too good at hiding it though. I grip his hand tightly, prepared to push as much electricity through his body as I can muster.

His hand burns in my grip instead. My lips curl in pain, but he ignores it and spins me so that my back is to the crowd around us. Forcing me to step into the next dance, he tilts his head forward again to whisper. “I did give Farley four names. But I lied to you about one of them.”

“What are you talking about?” My voice is cold, dangerous too. He senses it, pulling back a fraction. We stop dancing, and his hands drop to his sides. My heart beats so erratically, I worry it might beat right out of my chest.

He tilts his head to the side, his lips falling. “Ptolemus is a good target. Removing him would send the officers into chaos. But there was… a better target, one that would cause more chaos.”

“Who did you give?”

Who did your mother give? I want to grab him by the shoulders and shake it out of him. His lips curl up slowly, a remorseful smile if I ever saw one from him. My blood goes cold at the sight of it.

“Farley agreed with me that you were getting too close, that your attention was becoming divided. She also agreed that if there was ever a time to cut the head off the snake it was now.” He takes my hand and squeezes my fingers. “I’ll step up in his place. My father will never recover from the loss, so Farley can do what she pleases. It is a win for all of us.”

Realization burns through my stomach, followed immediately by frozen panic. “What have you done?” I wheeze as I flip around, searching the crowd, desperately trying to find Cal’s silhouette. In the mass of bodies, I can’t find him and my fingers twitch at my sides as I glance up in the rafters. The Sentinels pace, searching the crowd but they are looking in the wrong places. Above them, shadows move too. The Guard is already in position, ready to carry our Farley’s plot. 

“I know that you two have become…friends.” Maven begins, taking my hand and pulling me back around so that I face him. I try to turn my head and search the crowd still, but he grabs my chin and drags my eyes back to his face. “That’s why I asked Farley to take the shot. She’ll give him a quick end. One bullet and a dynasty will end.”

One bullet that won’t miss. One bullet that will tear my future away from me. One bullet that will break me, because Farley never, ever misses.

My blood boils and sparks dance on my fingertips as I glare at him. Cold calm washes over me as the rush of adrenaline leaves. I am in battle mode now; survival is all I can think about when I stare down the man before me.

“Farley removed you from the mission. That’s why I didn’t tell you I gave her his name. She thought you might compromise us.”

We were wrong. I gave something away. Elara never would have dared to target Cal. She needs him to get rid of his father, she needs a scapegoat. But if she looked in my head or his and saw the future, she would have seen that he is more trouble than he’s worth. She would have found out that cutting him from the equation might someday save her and Maven.

If I turn and run after him, I will confirm whatever they believe about us, whatever they have found. But if I sit here, I will lose everything. I can’t go after him; I can’t save him or else I risk Farley and compromising this whole mission.

I am a selfish creature though. I always have been, and I always will be.

Ripping my hand from Maven’s grip I flip around to push my way through the crowd. I have time, there’s still time. I am racing against a clock I can’t see though. It’s like push through mud as I shove my way through the crowd. People gasp and glare at me, but I have eyes only for one person and I can’t find him.

My eyes start to water, and my breathing comes in ragged gasps.

Farley doesn’t miss. And she will make sure she doesn’t miss this time.

Memories of him lying on the sand of Harbor Bay, grey and lifeless threaten to overtake me. I shove them down. He won’t be made into a symbol tonight. I still have time.

There.

He stands with his back to me, speaking quietly with some military personnel or another. I shove through the last of the crowd, my hand extended for him. Elara’s eyes are on me, I can feel them, but I don’t care. I don’t care about keeping things on track. Jon can damn himself to the hells. I won’t lose him.

“Cal!” I scream his name, making him turn. His brows furrow, his expression confused by my panic and fear. I’m five steps away. Then four, hand outstretched as he takes a tiny movement forward as if he might meet me halfway. He never gets the chance.

The lights drop and four guns fire at the same time.

I scream so loud that my own ears ring. The lights around us flare to life on their own by the sheer force of my ability. My vision tunnels, even as someone slams into me from the side, screaming in panic as the lights directly above me explode in a shower of sparks. 

I shove them away from me and sprint to his downed form. The man he’d been speaking to is gone, probably lost in the panic. People are screaming, shouting and pointing to the roof.

I slide the last foot between us on my knees and come to his side. Blood, there’s so much blood. I choke on a sob as I try to find the source of it. His eyes are open though, and his mouth opens and closes like a gaping fish.

Relief like nothing I’ve ever felt rushes through me, and I choke on his name as I feverishly try to find the source of the blood. It’s staining his uniform and pooling around his shoulder. His hands press to his chest, and I immediately press my hands on top of his. Sticky, burning blood pours through my fingers though.

“Mare.” His voice is ragged as he gasps my name, and I tear my eyes from the wound long enough to meet his eye. His going grey, the black undertones starting to appear under his eyes.

“No, stop trying to talk. You have to keep breathing.” I cry as I press the heels of my palms harder into the wound. More blood pours out and I feel like I’m fighting an uphill battle when I reach down and rip some of my dress off to press it to the wound. “Healer! Someone get a healer!” I scream to the panicked crowd. They’re like spooked animals though. No one notices their crown prince on his back bleeding out.

His hand closes weakly around my wrist and squeezes, trying to get my attention. His eyes are wide, but his expression is anything but fearful. “Don’t—” he begins, but ends up coughing on blood instead.

“No, no, no.” I sob as I push harder and glare at him. “No last words Calore. Not tonight. You’re going to be fine. You’re going to sit and drink coffee and talk with Julian again, and see Clara and my family again. And—and we’re going to see our baby, we’re going to hold him and watch him grow and become a better person than either of us. It’s going to be fine. Everything will be fine!”

His grip weakens on my wrist even as he smiles. My throat closes and I drop my chin to my chest. It’s a pretty picture I paint, but it fades with every slow beat of his heart. “Help!” I scream uselessly one more time, hoping someone will hear, that someone will come to my aid.

The crowd parts for a moment, and Sara who whipped around at the sound of my scream finds me. She barrels her way to us, and drops to her knees on Cal’s other side.

“Help him, save him.” I sob at her.

Her lips twist at the sight of all the blood, but she immediately pushes my hands away from the wound and replaces my hands with hers. Cal’s head falls back and his eyes close the minute she does. I leap for him, grabbing his face and trying to get him to open his eyes again. His neck falls slack in my grip through and I end up almost shaking him.

“Open your eyes, open your fucking eyes.” I scream at him, tears pouring like rivers down my cheeks. Hands grab me and try to pull me away, but I thrash against them and scream. When I’m flipped around, I meet Julian’s tortured expression.

He pulls me to him, keeping me out of Sara’s way as she works. His eyes never leave his nephew’s face. I wonder if he is seeing his sister in his grey features. Cal looks like a corpse, and my entire body feels like a live wire set to explode at any second.

“Don’t let him die. Please, don’t let him die.” I beg Sara, reaching a hand out to grab Cal’s hand. It’s cold in my grip and I almost vomit when my stomach clenches.

Her eyes dance up to me, and I see the resolve there. Is he lost? I don’t know if I will be able to bear that burden, if I will be able to survive this crushing blow.

She pulls her blood stained hands away and I dive out of Julian’s arms to grab at Cal. For a moment, I think he’s truly gone and a pained sob leaves my chest, sounding more like a scream than a moment of weakness. Underneath my hands though, his chest hitches with a breath, and then begins to rise and fall slowly.

The ballroom is practically empty around us. The royals have fled, the Sentinels have gone after Farley and the others. All that is left is us and the corpses. But there is one less among them.

“Cal,” I whisper to him as I brush his hair off his forehead. His eyes open for a moment only to close in a grimace.

“I wasn’t one of the targets.” He breathes, and I slowly let my forehead fall to rest on his chest. He wasn’t, but he survived. Turning to answer my call had saved his life. He’d changed his positioning, too fast for Farlet to correct her shot before the lights went out. She’d shot blindly, and almost succeeded in killing him.

“This sounds like a conversation for more… private chambers.” Julian’s voice is a dangerous rumble. I glance at him over my shoulder, belatedly realizing that he saw me sob over a prince that is not mine. He heard Cal mention targets, and judging by the fury behind his eyes, he is rapidly putting two and two together.

“Julian,” I reach for him, but he pushes to stand and then steps up to Cal’s other side.

“Sara will finish her work in my rooms. You two will come with us.” He bends down to grab one of Cal’s arms and help him sit up. I almost try to stop him, but he glares down at me. “Help me get him up and moving. We will have to move quickly.”

I crawl over Cal and grab his other arm before helping him to his feet. He stumbles, barely able to take his own weight. I grunt underneath him, and press into his side. Already I can feel the heat returning to his skin, and it sends such a thrum of relief through me that I have to swallow more tears.

 (////)

 Julian’s rooms are dark and after he helps me deposit Cal on one of the couches, he works quickly to shut all the curtains and lock the doors. I search for the cameras, but there are none for me to turn off.

He lights a few candles and brings them to the side table to light Sara’s work space. She shoes me away and takes my place at Cal’s side before tearing his ceremonial suit off. While she healed the artery that was severed, there is still a bullet in his chest. I can just catch one of the edges reflecting in the dim light.

Sara holds out an expectant hand and not even a heartbeat later, Julian sets a small cloth wrapped set of tools in her hands. She sets them in her lap and goes to work as I edge around the back of the couch and take one of Cal’s hands in my own. His pulse is getting stronger with every passing second, and his grip increases as Sara digs the first tool in to get the bullet out.

“Both of you, talk.” Julian’s fury is like nothing I’ve seen before. Even when I came to him for help in freeing Farley and Kilorn, he had still been soft, quiet. This fury is the fury of a man that has seen horrible dark places and is terrified to be forced back into them. 

I glance at Cal who grimaces and grinds his teeth together when Sara starts to tug on the bullet. He won’t be able to make this decision right now.

“You wouldn’t believe us.” I say quietly before looking up at Julian and begging him to understand my hesitation. 

“Try me.” He grinds out past his clenched jaw.

My stomach turns and Cal squeezes my hand. I glance down at him, and he nods slowly. We have been compromised. It’s time.

“You have to… listen the whole time. Don’t waste time with questions.” I urge, and in the low light, Julian’s nod creates dark shadows across his features. He looks older than I’ve ever seen him. Bowing my head, I inhale slowly and then launching into the story, starting with the most dangerous truth.

It takes more time than I want for Sara to finish with Cal, and for me to finish the story. As he gets stronger, Cal interjects, adding bits and pieces that I forget. Julian keeps true to his word and stays quiet, but his expression pulls into a deeper and deeper frown as we go. 

“How could you not trust me with this. If you know what I am to be to you, why would you not seek out my help immediately?” He pushes to his feet and begins pacing the space before us. Sara watches him, her eyes solemn.

“We—I didn’t want to put you in danger.” Cal whispers, pushing to a sitting position. I try to push him back down, but he fights me off.

“I end up in danger anyway.” Julian turns his gaze on Cal, but it’s softened considerably. I relax as he steps forward to look both of us over. “You’re certain Elara knows the truth?”

“Cal wasn’t a target. But Maven made him one tonight and pushed me off the mission. He knew about me and Cal and if he knows about that, then he knows about everything else.” I whisper, and take the rag Sara had brought a few minutes ago. Wiping some of the blood of Cal’s chest, I shake my head. “I gave us away completely tonight by saving you.”

Cal closes a hand over mine and squeezes softly.

“You must have given yourselves away some time before that.” Julian stops his pacing to set his fists on his hips. Glaring at the carpet like it is the sole reason for his worry, he says, “and now you are once again at the mercy of Elara’s mechanisms.”

“Not exactly.” Cal argues, sitting up completely and starting to shrug his uniform jacket on. Julian raises a brow at his words, but waits until Cal gives up with the buttons to let him speak. 

“We know what her ultimate end game is, and there is more than one way to get to the point we want.” Cal glances at me warily. “You and Maven are supposed to meet with Farley when we get to Archeon. You are going to have to warn her, and tell her the truth. All of it.”

I jump to my feet, shock coursing through me. “Have you lost your mind? Julian would understand, but Farley?”

“Farley will understand if you tell her the truth and give her proof.” Cal urges.

Sara and Julian watch our responses bounce back and forth like spectators at some sports match. It’s my turn to pace though, so I start wearing a trench into the floor, grabbing fistfuls of my gown as I do so. “Even if I did manage to get her to believe me, what are we going to do?”

“Elara doesn’t know that I know right?” He reasons with a tilt of his head. I pause my pacing to glance at him. He finishes buttoning up his jacket and nods at whatever plan is forming in his head. “She may think you are the only person that knows the future. That only you are here.”

“What are you talking about? If she’s seen my memories—”

“Then she’s only seen the ones formed before.” Julian jumps on the plan. His eyes dart between the two of us. “You would know if she was in your head Cal. And you are certain she has not looked. She has only seen your memories Mare. As far as she is concerned you are the only person with knowledge of the future.”

“Then why get rid of Cal tonight?” I wave a hand at him for emphasis. My fingers are still shaking, and my body still feels numb from the near death scare.

“You said so yourself. He plays a role in toppling her and Maven. Remove the tumor before it becomes cancer.” Julian offers with a shrug. Setting his hand on my shoulder, he gives me a tired smile. “You may still have a card up your sleeve. Go to… Farley, and get her to believe your story. Make a new plan, one that will put you back on track.”

How am I going to do that? How will I keep Maven in the dark? I’m smart, but he’s always been so much smarter than me, and with the knowledge Elara now has, the game has just become that much harder.

Cal rises on shaky legs, his expression cold. “Speaking of Farley, she might be done in the cells now.”

My blood goes cold and I blink stupidly. “But you didn’t catch her this time. She got away.”

“I didn’t catch her the first time. The Sentinels had already apprehended her by the time I caught up to them.” He nods to Sara and with a slow dip of his head whispers, “thank you, for saving my life.”

She smiles at him, a tiny weak expression but it lights up her face. She takes Julian’s hand and rises from her chair.

It feels good to have the two of them on our side now, playing the game with us. Maybe with them, we can actually win this time around.

[monoxidecahedron]

a slip of the tongue- jamilmads

@who-knew-what I wrote a part 2 to Home Is Where The Heart Is! expect more to come, too. I’m already working on two more installments in this universe. I’ll tag all of them with “#home ‘verse” so you can find them. enjoy, y’all!

“Alex?” John asks, peering into Alex’s office. The man is barely keeping himself awake, empty mugs of coffee all around him and papers on the floor. It’s nearly midnight. “Are you alright? Do you need me to take you home?” 

“I’m alright,” Alex mutters. “They’ll take me home.” John furrows his brow. People taking care of Alexander Hamilton isn’t unheard of, exactly, but usually it’s one of his friends, and he isn’t aware of any new people in the friend group. Everyone else is sleeping at home already. 

“Who?” he asks. “You got a boyfriend or something?” He meant it as a joke, because Alex would have told him. Right? But then Alex looks up at him, his tired expression twisting into something happier. 

“I got boyfriend,” he slurs, obviously exhausted. John sighs. Whatever that means, he’ll parse it later. For now, he just wants to make sure Alex gets back to his house. 

“Yeah, well, is ‘boyfriend’ gonna pick you up in a few? The office is closing soon,” he says. 

“Thomas’ll drag me out anyways,” Alex responds, though he looks distinctly annoyed at the thought. 

The revelation hits John like a freight train. There’s only one Thomas in the office (not counting Thomas Paine, who’s a level above them when it comes to management and is also very old), and that Thomas is the guy Alex screams at and then complains about to John. What? He considers asking Alex for more details, but looks again at Alex’s figure hunched over the desk, typing furiously, and decides against it.

Alex, in his sleep-deprived state, has no idea why he said “I got boyfriend” or if he even said it. He has a vague memory of John’s gears turning as he stares at him from the doorway, but that’s all, and he promptly forgets about it. 

Thomas and James are entirely unaware of the incident. Thomas did end up storming in after receiving an email from Alex about the project he was working on and dragging him out, scolding him like a child (“I have no idea what you’re trying to accomplish with this, Alexander, but so far I only see death by loss of sleep”), but only several minutes after John had left. 

So a week later he finds himself dragging James into his office. He just wants a quick kiss, initially, and then it turns into something more and James is straddling him in his chair, making out like there’s no tomorrow, and then John Laurens barges in, stops short, glares at Thomas, and turns on his heel and runs. Thomas exchanges a bemused look at James, but John’s been sending him those glares (albeit more of an “I’m watching you” sort) all week, and he thinks nothing of it, chasing James’ mouth with his own again. 

Alex barely looks up as John barges into his office, glancing once at his friend and then returning to the screen. The click of the keyboard resumes, John’s heavy breathing filling the office. “What is it?” Alex asks when John continues to simply stand there, out of breath from his run. It takes a few more moments before he can gather enough breath to speak. 

“Thomas- is- cheating,” he pants. 

Alex’s head snaps up. “What?” he says sharply. He isn’t worried for himself- he can deal with the fucker- but it’s James he’s worried about. And then there’s also a slight disbelief. He knows John would never lie to him, not with something like this, but he also knows that Thomas wouldn’t cheat. Right?

“He- was- hang on,” John says. Now in a better state, he continues, “he was making out with Madison in his office, I’m really sorry, Ham- what is it?” Alexander had slumped over his desk, cackling with laughter.

“Oh my god,” he says after a moment in which he feels hysterical and John is plain confused. “I cannot believe- I thought- if you knew about Thomas-” 

“Get to the point, will you?” John asks, beginning to feel annoyed. 

“Okay- okay so,” Alex begins, then dissolves into laughter again. “Sorry. So. Thomas is my boyfriend.” John nods, well aware. “James is also my boyfriend.” At this, John tilts his head. Wouldn’t that be worse, then? Double betrayal? “Thomas is also James’ boyfriend.” John is lost, as is evident in his expression. “Look- it’s- it’s basically like, like, I like both of them and they like me and them- like a- it’s a- triangle of love, of sorts,” he says. Having never really considered the unconventionality of his relationship, he finds himself at a loss to describe it. John is even more lost, having not followed half of what he was saying. “Like a couple, except with three people! I’m with James and Thomas and Thomas is with James and me and James is with Thomas and me. Like a big puddle of love,” he says, acutely aware that he’s not doing a very good job of explaining. John, however, seems to get it, nodding slowly as he processes the words. 

“OH!” he nearly shouts. “Ohhhh. Goddamn, I feel like an idiot.” 

Alex laughs. “You are!” 

Later that night, Alex finishes recounting the story to his boyfriends, lying across Thomas and James’ laps on the couch. James laughs, fingers entangled in Alex’s hair. “Wait- so how many of your friends besides John know about us?” Thomas asks. Alex pauses, considers. 

“Actually I think only John knows,” he says. “Wow. I just completely forgot to tell them.” 

“Are you going to tell them?” James says. “I mean, I could understand if you didn’t want to, considering-” he waves his hand around, the gesture invoking memories of shouting competitions in meetings and furious disagreements and, especially, Alex breaking off his friendship with James and coming to them crying afterwards. 

“It… should be fine,” Alex says, though he sounds uncertain. “In any case, they’re my friends, they’re legally obligated to support me even if my boyfriends are assholes.” Thomas smacks his thigh. 

“I’m gonna call them right now,” Alex announces. “I’m probably going to forget later if I don’t.” Saying this, he picks his phone up from where he’d discarded it on the floor and proceeds to call Eliza. She picks up on the first ring. 

But it isn’t her who answers. “This better be a good excuse for why you’re not at game night,” Angelica snaps. Alex’s face is blank for a moment, and then he remembers. 

“Shit!” he hisses. “I’m so sorry, Angie, I just-” he looks up at James and Thomas, who are giving him disapproving looks- “forgot. I’m so sorry.” 

“I’m putting you on speaker. Apologize to all of us.”

“Sorry!” Alex says into the phone, and he hears a chorus of voices rushing to reprimand him.. 

“This is the second time in a row you’ve forgotten,” Hercules says. “What happened, man? I thought you had a reminder or something!” 

“I thought I did!” Alex says desperately. “I’m so sorry, you guys. I was just, uh…” He trails off, searching his mind for a plausible excuse. 

“Well?” Peggy asks. 

“Actually, I called you guys to tell you something because I forgot to, so uh…” James nudges him. “I have boyfriends,” he says. Their reactions are immediate: five different voices start talking at once, raising their voices to be heard over the others and creating a cacophony of both pleased and annoyed tones. He can’t hear John saying anything, and he imagines him sitting smug on his bean bag (Hercules has bean bags in his apartment for whatever reason) while the others crowd the phone. 

“Who?” Lafayette demands. “Tell us at once, mon ami! Why did we not know sooner?” 

“Uh. So,” he starts, hearing his friends fall silent at once. “James?” It comes out more of a question than an answer, but they get it immediately. 

“Madison?” Eliza says. “Didn’t you-” 

“Yes, well, we’ve worked it out,” James interjects. It’s still a bit of a sore subject. There’s immediate squeals on the other end. 

“James!” Angelica says in surprise. “You’re there?” 

“Evidently,” he says, though he’s smiling. “Hello, Angelica.”

“Mon amiiiiii, you cannot leave us hanging like this,” Lafayette interrupts. “Tell us who the other person is! Do we know him? Is he handsome? Oh! Are they a girl?” 

“You do know him,” Alex concedes, “and his handsomeness… mmm, not quite there,” he continues, earning another smack on the thigh from Thomas. 

“I am very handsome, thank you very much,” Thomas cuts in smoothly. His friends fall silent at once. 

“Is that… is that Jefferson?” Peggy whispers. 

“It IS!” Lafayette shouts. “I knew it! I knew it! See, I told you, Alex, mon cousin is not that bad once you get used to him-” 

“Is it Attack Thomas Day or something?” Thomas grumbles. James pats him condescendingly on the head. 

“Hush now, the grownups are talking,” he says. 

“Hold up,” comes Hercules’ voice from the phone, which is now balanced on Alex’s chest. “You’re dating  Jefferson? The guy you used to whine about whenever you came over?” Thomas raises an eyebrow at him.

“Oh? You whined about me? Do I truly affect you that much?” he teases. 

Alex makes a hmph noise. “I did not!” he protests. “Stop lying, Hercules!” And that’s the end of any questions about his relationship, thank god. They spend a couple more minutes just messing around with each other before they disconnect abruptly upon discovering that John knew before them. 

There’s silence for a bit afterwards. Thomas shifts, nestling closer to James and slinging his arm around him, the other hand resting on Alex’s thigh. “Your friends are… something,” James says eventually, threading his fingers once again through Alex’s hair. 

Alex laughs. “They sure are.”

I very much hope “I got boyfriend” made you laugh as much as I did. Please, please reblog! Likes don’t do anything! If you comment I’ll love you forever.

[panharmonium]

next round of in-progress naruto thoughts under the cut!  i haven’t done one of these in a while - been doing a lot of individual posts instead, but seeing as we just finished a season and started a long filler arc, it feels like a good time to collect my thoughts.

[spoiler policy disclaimer first, as always: I am watching naruto for the first time.  i am trying to avoid spoilers, so please don’t interact with this (tags included, because the notifications now show them to me automatically) with any spoilery commentary, including even general things like “oh i love this show but it gets less good after X point” or “X season is better than Y season” or any general assessments of quality/likability/etc re: future seasons.  Thank you! <3 ]

okay uh where to begin.  UM.  so much is happening that this is not going to be a comprehensive commentary, just certain things that stuck out in my head.

two annoyances first, and then the rest is my usual lovefest:

- if i have to listen to one more speech about how amazing naruto is i’m gonna start fast-forwarding through them.  i’m sorry; i love him so much, but in the last couple of episodes there have been at least 10 separate speeches saying the exact same thing, and i need a little break from the naruto praise-fest.  i already know he’s wonderful!  you do not have make every single character tell me so.  spend that time on resolving the other characters’ arcs on their own terms, the way they deserve - naruto is very important to all of them, but he also isn’t the only reason they're here.

- i love how the show made such a big deal once again out of sakura refusing to let sasuke and naruto go on without her, saying “i’ve finally caught up to them; they’re not going to leave me behind this time” and then they literally just...leave her behind lmao.  the show has tried to resolve her arc in exactly this way multiple times and every time it goes right back to its old nonsense.  i don’t know why i keep believing it when the show says she’s just as integral a part of the team as sasuke and naruto.  i am charlie brown with the football, and i keep landing flat on my back.  

and now better things:

- i loved gaara’s relationship with shukaku coming back into play!  when he swooped in to pull shukaku out of obito like “come here, shukaku” because naruto had no connection with the one-tails...that was awesome.  and also him asking for shukaku’s help like “i’m not ordering you.  i’m asking you.  if you don’t agree, that’s fine” - i LOVED seeing that.

- that whole episode with the three-way deadlock...you ever see a particular shot and think “foreshadowing, foreshadowing, foreshadowing”???

- perpetually distressed over how entertained i am by orochimaru’s dynamic with taka and then needing to remind myself of how EVIL orochimaru is lmao.  like.  i’ve always loved his character; there’s never a dull moment when he’s around, but then in this arc they’re almost like...making you imagine what it would’ve been like if he had been on their side the whole time and you’re kind of...enjoying all these moments he has with the kids but then you have to be like NO!  THESE KIDS ARE HIS EXPERIMENTS!  HE’S THE ONE WHO STOLE BABY YAMATO AND RAISED HIM IN A TEST TUBE!!!  THIS MAN IS EVIL!!!!!!!  and yet...

- i was losing it laughing at sasuke’s snake calling him “lord sasuke.”  i’m sorry, you all know i love sasuke more than anything but this kid’s ego does NOT need further swelling.  my sister and i were both like “yeah ok kakashi’s gonna put a stop to that immediately” lmao - like there are some levels on which sasuke needs love and support but there are also some levels on which he needs an adult to bop him with an empty paper towel roll and tell him NO.

- i love that sai is still the smartest one in the room, telling sakura that they don’t really know sasuke’s true intentions and can’t trust him.  and i really liked the callback to his initial arc way back in season 2, where he looks at sakura and says to himself “your words may not be lies, but i can already tell that your smile is fake.”  

- i know it’s all going to go to shit eventually but in the meantime i love seeing team 7 sniping at each other.....“don’t drag us down, naruto”...... “remember, he can only be affected by sage jutsu!”/“i know that, i’m not YOU”...........just like the Good Old Days XD

- also how much did i laugh when minato was like “you and the others go and deal with madara” and naruto was like “OH RIGHT!  I FORGOT ABOUT HIM!!!”  ‘forgot’ about the antagonist.  in the middle of the war they’re fighting against him.  that’s the naruto we know and love. XD

- LOVED when shikamaru needed ino to connect him to the entire army and he asked “can you do it” and she went “that doesn’t matter; i’m GONNA do it!!!!”  i am crying for both of them forever but i love seeing them continue to be so amazing

- i talked about this on another post, but i have loved having minato around for these episodes.  i finally feel like i’m actually *fond* of him, whereas before, the best i could say was that he was an impressive shinobi and i didn’t DISlike him.  but it is so much fun to see what a massive awkward weirdo he is, with his ridiculous jutsu names and asking naruto “sooooooo......is this your girlfriend?”  the man is a DORK.  he’s a certified dork.

and yet at the same time - in a fight, he still possesses that sort of cold, “our family is shinobi” ruthlessness, which sounds like a bad thing, but isn’t how i mean it.  it’s just a “we do what we must” vibe, and i respect it, especially in this situation, when we really need someone like that on our side.  eg, when he realizes that it’s obito up on top of the ten-tails, he teleports there and cuts his throat INSTANTLY.  and it’s clear in the aftermath that it kills him to do it, but he does do it, without a second’s hesitation, because it has to be done.  

that sort of decisive action is what i would have expected from him, given our past introductions to his character, but i appreciate that this arc is also showing us his human side, and the depth of compassion he feels, and the weight of his guilt, and the fact that he actually cares about what happened to the kids who were his responsibility and whom the shinobi world swallowed whole.

- all of those images of what life could have been like if obito had just come home...........that was EVIL.  why would they make me see that.  the knowledge that he and kakashi could have gone through all of their suffering together, that neither of them would have had to ever be alone, that they could have had in each other what kakashi’s kids are going to have someday...that was too much.  i already think about that daily.  i did not need to see it animated for me onscreen. 

- i appreciate the fact that naruto’s attempt to talk obito over to the other side didn’t work.  i just think on a fundamental level that this isn’t really something naruto should be able to do.  naruto’s presence and what he represents make a difference, obviously, but i just think that reaching obito is kakashi’s job.  which is essentially what minato says when he sends naruto away, so i appreciated that. 

i’m sure there are lots of things i’m missing (so much is happening!) but just some yelling about the end:

- sooooo naruto is almost dead.  or temporarily dead.  my assumption is that gaara is taking him to kurama’s other half inside minato?  but that’s just a guess; i dunno.  (i’d be happy if that’s where they were headed, because it would at least mean that naruto and sakura and kakashi are back in the same place together, so i’d appreciate that.)

- sasuke is also almost dead.  hopefully taka can go pick him up...even though he’s been so terrible to them...he owes them so many apologies

- WHAT HAPPENED TO BEE?????  *distraught face* obviously we all know naruto and sasuke are going to be fine eventually, but bee must’ve been disconnected from eight-o too.........  ;_______;

- i’m just gonna come out and say it.  i think yamato is here.  you all can laugh at me later if i’m wrong, but i think yamato is here trapped inside swirly and i cANNOT handle that

- madara said something very brief about sasuke’s eyes that i’m curious about......are we finally going to get more information about the different sharingan patterns?

- the new ending credits start off as the usual naruto-sasuke show but then kakashi and sakura come bursting in and honestly the emotions i felt......THAT IS WHAT I WANT.  I WANT ALL FOUR OF THEM TO MATTER AND TO BE THERE TOGETHER.

[callioope]

Continuing my reactions to Avatar: The Last Airbender

This post is about Book 3. See my overall impressions and thoughts on Book 1 here. See my thoughts on Book 2 here.

ETA: crap i forgot the keep reading line initially SORRY if anyone saw this before i edited. anyways. please see the tags as a disclaimer before reading. gosh it’s late i need to go to bed.

General

Starting S3 now and dang Katara & Toph have gotten so powerful!!!!!

I literally recorded ZERO reactions from Chapter One through Chapter Twelve. And my first reaction is basically my excitement that Zuko is finally with the Aang crew! But let me try to skim through an episode list to recall my reactions.

You may have already seen my post expressing shock that MARK HAMILL voiced the Fire Lord. Still not over that revelation.

So, ultimately, I binged this show in less than a week. I think I started on Monday? And finished Saturday afternoon. That alone should speak to how much I enjoyed it! 

Aang

Okay, a bit weird to have barely any thoughts under Aang when he’s literally the protagonist, but I think (since I wrote other sections before this) that I touch on some of my thoughts on him under other characters. 

I will say, his journey really intensifies in this season. First, when he awakens after being unconscious for several days and has no idea what’s going on, and is still healing and more helpless than he’s probably ever felt in his life. I did really like his arc in this season, but what a stark contrast to the Aang of Book 1. He has to grow up so fast. I gotta say, a lot of Aang’s journey reminded me just a little of Ender in Ender’s Game. 

I do say this later, but his final decision about how to handle Ozai was amazing. I loved every second of his journey to get there, and I was rooting for him to find a path that felt true to him — and not what everyone else kept telling him he had to do. 

There was one small thing that bothered me, which was that his eventual regaining of the Avatar state did not really seem to come about through intentional action of his own. After he goes down at the end of Book 2, sorta feels like they never even talk about him going into the Avatar state again and he doesn’t until the final moment. That moment doesn’t seem a conscious choice on his part; the scar on his back collides with a rock jutting out and seems to jolt him into the Avatar state. I would have liked to see a little more agency on his part in regards to the Avatar state. 

Sokka

My boy! My boy Sokka! Truly the mother of the group. IDK why they pretended in the beginning that Katara was the mom because it’s definitely Sokka. His maps! His scheduling! He is ridiculous and I love him for it. 

I adored that he got his own training master episode! He got to learn some sword stuff and even got to make a fancy space sword! Everyone else got super powerful with their bending and I’m glad Sokka got his own arc of self-improvement. He has come a LONG way from episode 1. He couldn’t really hold his own at all that early, and now look at him! Planning battle strategies! Taking down the Fire Lord’s air fleet! He’s come so far and I’m so proud!

Oh, you know, I just realized that I didn’t really talk about ships with Sokka in Book 2 but he did continue to have the most active romance arc. It was nice to see Suki return in Book 2, and I am glad we found out what happened to her. I liked Sokka and Suki, I have nothing against it. I was very surprised that so little happened with Toph and Sokka. There did seem to be moments where it seemed like Toph might actually harbor a crush on Sokka, but nothing came of it and she certainly didn’t say anything about it. That felt a little odd to me. Why hint at something but then make nothing of it? 

Katara

Sigh. This is early in the post, but probably one of the last parts of it that I’m actually writing. I’ve definitely been putting it off. Unfortunately most of what I have to say about Katara is about shipping, and I’m really not happy about that, but then it’s what comes to mind over anything else. Which is sort of ironic considering some of her lines in the theater episode...

So in the theatre episode, Aang confronts Katara about how nothing has happened in their relationship after they kissed. She responds by saying she is “confused.” I had some issues with the script here, to be honest. It seems to imply that she’s confused about her feelings for Aang. But she also says that she’s been more focused on the war, and that totally makes sense. I really would support this moment if that’s where they left it: “I don’t have time to think about romance, my mind is preoccupied with the war.” 

But no, they say she is “confused.”

This is pretty baffling to me, and honestly seems to come out of nowhere. Book 1 it was very obvious that both Katara and Aang have feelings for each other, and Book 2 might have backed off a little from that but then we get moments where Katara is so keyed in to Aang’s struggles with the Avatar state and also the only one who can bring him out of it. Now, all of a sudden, she is saying she is confused? Where is this coming from? 

I could definitely see people argue that it’s because she has feelings for Zuko. If I shipped them (I don’t, but I also Get It), I could point to numerous moments in the series as ‘clues/support’ for this ship. Zuko and Katara have a moment at the end of Book 2 where they talk about the loss of their mothers. (“We’re both sad about what happened to our mothers!” not really a foundation for a relationship, but Katara is the most betrayed and distrustful of Zuko when it comes to the idea of letting him join their crew and it is because of this moment. She obviously begins to feel some kind of connection — I’d argue platonic but ship and let ship.) 

And yeah, Zuko and Katara have their bonding adventure, but again I don’t think this has to be read as romantic. Clearly the idea here is that Zuko “understands” a part of Katara that Aang doesn’t — except that in the end, Aang is the one who is right about her. She cannot give in to revenge. It’s not her, and Aang knows that. I mean, they’re both right — Katara had go to on the journey to learn that about herself, and it was important that Zuko was the one who helped her. But still. 

Finally Zuko and Katara go together to face Azula. Again seems like plot is pushing them together for Tension. They definitely work together here and Katara heals him and all that but she’d have healed anyone. (Like yeah if you ship it of course you’re gonna be excited over those moments.)

But.

Like. The thing is. When the dust settles? Zuko and Mai return to each other like moths to a flame. I could believe that Katara might have had feelings for Zuko, but I don’t think he ever returned them. I think it was always Mai for him. 

I don’t really want to fan the flames of ship wars — I’m trying to walk a fine line of “I totally understand why people ship this, but I don’t,” and hopefully I’m succeeding, but I’m sorry if I’m not. 

My main gripe is how the show handled this dynamic. It seemed like they half-heartedly thought about creating a love triangle, but then they didn’t follow through. I don’t particularly like love triangles, so I’m not actually mad that there wasn’t one. But what bothers me is that the Aang and Katara moments are so heavy handed in the beginning, that a sudden subtle take on how Katara feels in Book 3 feels strange. It feels like if she was having feelings for Zuko, it should have been more blatant. The depictions are inconsistent — if the writers were even ever intending for Katara to have feelings for Zuko in the first place.

Like, I really can’t tell if those moments implying Zuko and Katara were intentionally trying to start a love triangle OR if it was just sort of a mistake OR if it was maybe creators trying to address and then negate Zuko and Katara as a ship? I mean it’s weird because the play episode really emphasizes Zuko and Katara but then that play is really supposed to be all levels of inaccurate and get under the characters’ skins. 

So, I don’t know. Obviously we all bring different interpretations to a piece of media and I am by no means saying anything here is a “correct opinion” (because I hate that attitude when it comes to story interpretations). Sorry if you don’t agree, hope I didn’t make anyone mad. Ship what you like! You do you, man. 

On that note, please see further disclaimers about shipping and canon at the end of the “Zuko and Mai” section below.

Toph

Loved how Toph was the first to warm up to Zuko. It made a lot of sense. I mean obviously they were looking for a fire bender to teach Aang and it was like “Hello, powerful fire bender on a silver platter!” but also, Toph is someone who joined the crew later on. The group had to adjust to her, and she probably knows what it feels like to be an outsider. Now, granted, she was never alienated from the group in the same way that Zuko (rightfully) was. But she can also understand Zuko’s position as someone who comes from a wealthy family, the sort of pressure that comes from that. None of this was really addressed explicitly, and it might not have really fit then and there, but it was what I was thinking as she was standing up for Zuko.

Um, and also, on that note? Huge bummer Toph did not get her special bonding adventure with Zuko. Toph, I’m with you on that one! Why did Sokka get two episodes for his? 

Zuko

No “& Iroh” on this post because — Iroh spent much of this season in jail, and then the next half just ??? who knows where. 

So, I believe I stated in the last post how shocked I was at Zuko’s betrayal. Knowing he eventually joins Aang’s crew, it seemed like his time in the prison with Katara would ultimately lead to that, and then NOPE! He has this nice heart to heart about his mother, and then�� it really shocked me.

But.

As I watched this season, it became clear that this has to be Zuko’s journey. He has to go back to the Fire Nation. He has to win the approval of his father. He has to get everything he wants in order to realize that it really isn’t what he wants. This is integral to his ultimate revelation and redemption and he couldn’t have stayed truly good without verifying and knowing how empty the win of his father’s approval is.

Realizing this, I loved it and appreciated the moments we get. Zuko’s visits to Iroh. Even when Zuko is being cruel, you can see how hurt and lost he is. And Iroh gives him the cold shoulder he deserves, even though of course this is breaking Iroh’s heart, too. 

Now, I absolutely must discuss the Fire Kids Beach Party episode! Because as ridiculous as parts of it are, it provides such an important and necessary insight to all four characters (Zuko, Azula, Mai, and Ty Lee). You see the privilege that they’re all used to, it’s good that no one knows who they all are. (although maybe a little surprising because Zuko’s scar certainly reveals who he is but anyways.) 

and it’s funny how you almost end up rooting for them before you’re like “no no no. they are bad people doing some bad things.” I mean, almost rooting for them. And sure, the campfire scene is a bit Breakfast Club-y but I do think it’s important. And I just loved the moment Zuko admits he’s angry at himself, how his burst of fire as he says it almost covers it up, it’s so hard for him to say. Fabulous character development going on here, fabulous. 

[Uh, side note, so apparently Zuko is descended from Avatar Roku! This is ridiculous but can we get Zuko calling Aang great-grandfather, mainly to get on his nerves?! O:-) this would amuse me greatly]

And GOSH the catharsis when Zuko finally realizes his father’s approval is not what he wants and not worth it! It’s so well earned. It’s so satisfying. I was so excited and just like, so anticipating Zuko going to meet up with the crew. Zuko practicing his speech in the woods to the frog? Amazing. Endearing. I love him so much. 

And despite that and because of it, I also loved how difficult it was for him to earn their trust. It had to be difficult. It would not be believable if it wasn’t. Every character regarded him exactly as you would expect them to, exactly as he deserved. And Zuko tried so hard to be sincere and contrite, and it was hard for him, but he was doing pretty well all things considered! And still, they distrusted him. Yes. This was good and right. And I loved it. 

AND ANOTHER THING I LOVED was that once that initial barrier was surpassed, Aang actually warmed up to Zuko pretty quickly. This is not surprising; he’d reached out to Zuko in the past. First when Zuko (masked) rescues him, and Aang says they could have been friends. Later, at the end of Book 1 when Zuko again kidnaps him, there’s just a moment… I think when Aang spares him. It’s like, my impression is that Aang can sense that their destinies are connected, and he’s not really sure how but he knows that Zuko is important. Also, I mean, Aang just doesn’t kill people and revenge is not his way. 

Each character getting their own side story with Zuko was also integral to his arc — perhaps moreso, theirs, though. Because it was necessary for them to overcome their distrust and forge the bonds necessary for the Avatar’s crew to function. Bummed he didn’t get one with Toph. Toph was robbed.

And side note, but I really would have like an Aang and Sokka bonding episode? Like, Book 1 is all Aang and Katara and Sokka, but some 1:1 time would have been nice. There was almost a chance when Aang flew Sokka to his father and the water tribe (and at the time I was like, “Oh? Aang and Sokka bonding?!”) But then it was really only a few minutes. But yeah, that said, it does make sense to focus on carving out 1:1 time for Zuko and each member of the crew to ease him into the group.

Sokka: You happy now?

Zuko: I’m never happy.

This made me sad. And also made me go “classic Zuko.”

Every time Zuko was like, “What would uncle say?” And then say the most ridiculous thing? Fantastic. Amazing. Fuel for the fire that was my love for this show.

Zuko and Mai

Mainly the Beach Party episode was important in helping me warm up to Mai. Once Zuko is back in the Fire Nation and they’re together, I was of the mindset that Mai would have to do something pretty big in order for me to enjoy seeing their relationship become canon. This episode is not that episode, but it is an important insight into Mai’s character that explains some of her actions. The fact that she’s basically internalized apathy because she’s been forced to repress her emotions. It wasn’t enough for me but we get more later, this is an important stepping stone. 

It’s also important in establishing just what Zuko and Mai’s dynamic is. It’s a bit shaky in this and they end up breaking up but then they just get back together like immediately (moths to a flame…) In hindsight, I just think they’re behaving like normal teens who care about each other but are still navigating what it means to be in a relationship. At this moment in time, their relationship is not good, but by the end of the show I can believe as they mature that it could be a good relationship.

So the actual moment that I was like, “Okay, officially supporting Mai and Zuko now” was when she helps them escape Boiling Rock. I don’t think we’re ever told the full contents of Zuko’s letter to her, but considering what she says to Zuko earlier in this episode, it doesn’t seem likely he explains himself very well. At least not for Mai to understand. And he still isn’t able to explain himself well to her as they talk face to face. Then he locks in a cell and flees! He leaves her again. 

You wouldn’t blame Mai for hating Zuko. You wouldn’t blame her for actively working against him. But is this what happens? No. Not at all. She helps them get away. She betrays Azula for Zuko. Azula!!! Azula who is very powerful and very scary! This is a clear and distinct line in the sand, and … it almost comes out of nowhere, but what it demonstrates is how she really feels about him. She’s decided to trust him and put her faith in him when she really would have been justified in not doing so. 

I’m also going to say that despite some rather odd implications of Zuko and Katara in parts of the series (namely with other characters who really don’t know them), I never feel like Zuko is interested in Katara. I would buy interpretations that Katara might have considered Zuko, the way some parts of her story are portrayed, but I don’t get anything on Zuko’s side and that is all the more reinforced by how he acts around Mai, especially in the end of the series when they’re reunited. 

(Now, that said — because I don’t abide ship wars, ship and let ship, and power to multi-shippers — I can totally 100% see the appeal of shipping Zuko and Katara, and I would contend there is even some canonical implication of it. And I can’t blame people for not totally loving Zuko and Mai. Now, I do think the canonical implications are sort of muddied and confusing, but though I have actually not written it yet, you’ll have read my thoughts there in the Katara section already. OH, and OF COURSE, MORE IMPORTANTLY — ships being canon should not matter! Ship what you love! Who cares if it’s canon! Finding canon justification for ships should not be necessary for shipping! It can be a fun exercise but should never ever be a reason for approving or disapproving of a ship, it’s just a cherry on top!)

Azula

We get some pretty interesting insights into her character this season. I’ve already mentioned the Beach Party episode, and there was some good stuff in there for her. I particularly appreciated the moment that she admitted she knew her mother thought she was a monster, that she even admitted to being a monster, and then admitted that it still hurt anyways. Honestly that’s probably her best moment.

I also thought her breakdown at the end was well done. Mai and Ty Lee’s betrayal just broke her. She probably knows her attitude puts people off, but those two were the only ones she ever really got on with. And it turns out, she really didn’t get on with them, they’d only ever been intimidated and manipulated into being her friends. She has no one, she pushes everyone away. Literally — and it is ultimately her downfall. 

It’s an interesting contrast to her brother. We literally get an episode “Zuko Alone,” and then it turns out the theme of “Azula Alone” is such an integral part of her arc, as well. The last person she has is her father, and he leaves her, too. Sure, he tells her it’s because she’s to stay behind as the new Fire Lord, but honestly Ozai was never truly close to anyone, either. But yeah. Iroh spends a lot of time and effort trying to help Zuko redeem himself. He never tries with Azula? I think, maybe it would have been nice to see him try with her, and be just utterly rebuffed. Now, Zuko also rebuffed him a lot, too. So Azula’s rejection of Iroh would really have to be something. This is the kind of stuff I’d look for in fic. Speaking of fic: I mean, I’d really love Zuko to find his mom, mom to come back, and then maybe some kind of attempt at reparations between mom and Azula. It doesn’t have to work, I just want to see the effort, you know?

Final Thoughts: Ending & Denouement

I loved Aang finding a different way to defeat the Fire Lord. I loved how every past Avatar he talked to was like “no dude just kill him.” And I loved that that was not enough for Aang. He’s pushing himself and ultimately the spirit of the Avatar to think harder, to try harder, to seek a different way. And that mercy was so integral to Aang’s character, and important to his arc that he struggled so much with it. And he’s just a kid! Oh, Aang. And I loved that he was able to find the answer he needed, the fact that it was taking away Ozai’s fire bending. Yes. Perfection.

I was a little disappointed by how little we got post-Ozai’s defeat. I was hoping the epilogue might have shown a little more in the years and decades following. It would have been nice to see glimpses of everyone prospering as they got older. 

Also, as I was watching Zuko’s coronation, I was sorta like, “uhh wait that’s a little too easy.” Now we don’t know when that happens so it’s possible some bit of time has lapsed and I’ll take that. But I thought there would have still been some trouble with some of the Fire Nation troops. Some of them would have remained loyal to Ozai. Many of those general had probably committed war crimes and would have needed to be rounded up and put on trial and put in prison. There’d be so much work to do!

That said, I do understand that we want to see our heroes with a happy ending, ultimately. I guess just a simple like “X years later” before the ending scenes would have sufficed for me to be satisfied that enough time had passed for those things to have been dealt with. IDK, I can probably suspend disbelief enough to headcanon that myself. I’m just saying. Some acknowledgement of resolution and reconstruction as a *process over time*, albeit unnecessary, would have been nice to have!

On that note, we don’t actually find out what happens to Azula. Presumably she is also in prison with her father. 

More importantly, we were Robbed of a Zuko and Ursa reunion scene!

[sweetjekyll]

Writerly contemplation tag!

tagged by the lovely @j-pping; thank you for the tag!

this might end up being long so I’ll add a read more cut ☺️

2020

what was the most challenging part of writing this year?

I guess the most challenging part of writing this year was tuning out the real world. I’ve always used reading and writing as a form of coping and escapism from all the things that were troubling me. Unfortunately there were times when simply reading and writing weren’t helping me and I took so many breaks, postponed so many WIPs I was excited about... I ended up beating myself down for not being able to keep up with an expectation I had for myself and my writing. Considering 2020 was hell for everyone, I came to terms with myself that it cannot be always my fault, I can’t blame myself for not being able to do things I set my mind to do, sometimes there are obstacles that take time for you to cross.

I’m just going to quickly mention stressful anons and hopefully get a point across for all fan fictions writers. WE ARE NOT ROBOTS. WE ARE HUMAN. All of us write for many personal reasons, mine are that I just love writing things which I wish to read! Simple as that. What I wish for some rude people to understand is that the least you could do for us creators is be thankful and be kind to us, give feedback and constructive criticism, share our work. I don’t understand why you are scared of the reblog button. When I go through my notes and take a look at some blogs, they are empty. No one is paying us to contribute creatively to the fandom, you are enjoying our content for free while we put hard work and our free time into it, so why should we “hurry up”, “update faster” and “write more/this/that”? Please, remember that we are people too, and the toxicity some people spread on anonymous asks is just incredibly baffling and hurtful to me. If you, as a reader, believe that my request is nonsense and my words are too harsh, then perhaps you should reconsider how you’re viewing content creators before disagreeing without a valid reason.

what was the most enjoyable/rewarding part of writing this year?

The happiness that came from writing something which I enjoyed reading as well! I have been a writer for years on another platform until I had to take a long hiatus because of writer’s block and depression. For how cheesy this may sound, the most enjoyable and rewarding part of writing is in fact writing something that makes me happy even if I’m torturing my characters and traumatizing them. There is truly no point for me to write things that I don’t feel I am enjoying. As I have said other times before on the blog, I would much rather post something that makes me happy, than post something just to get notes from silent readers.

what piece has left the most impact on you and why?

Given the fact that I have not written a lot because of my constant mental health breaks (yes 2020 had me on rollercoaster mental breakdowns more often than usual), I have to say that Damaged is what really kept me entertained with myself and perhaps sane. It has been way too long since I’ve taken on something so creative as building an entire universe from just a dream, but it’s what reminded me why I love writing so much, it reignited my passion. With this story I really wanted to challenge myself to write something unique, something I’ve never done before with any other work... And I admit it’s quite difficult; the easiest part was taking inspiration from EXO’s lore, but the hardest was incorporating it in a universe and storyline completely different to the original concept. It’s something I’m set on finishing as a complete multi-chapter story no matter how long it takes.

what have you learned about yourself through the process of writing in the past year?

To be completely honest, I learned that I can push myself out of my comfort zone when writing, because every piece is a fictional world of its own, every character can be more than a copy and paste personality. What do I truly learn about myself if I don’t explore things I have not thought about before? I learned that I should not be afraid to write of things that I don’t know or fully understand, specifically about things that I didn’t post but tried for just for fun. It is a good way of finding out whether a certain subjects interests me or doesn’t. I love doing lots of research and gather information for the stories I’m writing, you get to learn about stuff you usually would never think about.

how has your writing changed in the past year? how have you grown?

Well, I don’t really have anything to compare my writing to except my older fan fictions for movies and tv shows. I guess I have changed quite a lot since 2018; my writing style has become more fluid, at least I think it has. I’m also able to write longer chapters without feeling as if I am dragging it out for the sake of the word count, yet now I have to literally stop myself from just writing too much! It pleases me, to be honest. I remember struggling to sometimes put ideas into words and balance narrative, dialogue and descriptions.

2021

ignoring your wips for a second, if you had all the time and energy in the world to write your magnum opus piece, what would it be about? why is that the dream story you’d write, all other things controlled for?

This can go back to Damaged, honestly! It’s something that I haven’t finished writing and it will be a long story. It’s the fan fiction which has gotten me out of a 2-year-long writer’s block with such strength, I feel truly attached to it. As I mentioned in one of my first answers for 2020, this is the WIP I want to focus on the most and be proud of it.

how do you want to grow in your writing this year?

I mentioned this is my first 2021 post after I took a short break, but one of my resolutions for this year is to work on self acceptance when it comes to my projects. (I’ll copy and paste what I wrote there so I don’t repeat myself with other words) One of my resolutions for 2021 is to write more, to not be afraid of beginning something and even if I end up setting the story aside, at least I will have gotten it out on (digital) paper. I punish myself way too much when I’m not able to finish something, and that is truly one of the worst things a content creators can go through, in my opinion. I have many drafted works that may or may never be published and I wish to appreciate them more instead of dwelling on the fact of what they could have been.

what’s one thing you’d wish to see in the fan-writing community this year?

I wish for more love and recognition of the amazing and talented writers that share their content with everyone on tumblr. We are a community, or at least we are supposed to be. I would absolutely love to see more readers actively interacting with writers, share ideas, share art inspired by what you read! As readers, you can contribute as well by sharing moodboards, song recommendations and/or playlists! You are more than welcome to join us in the community as writers too! 

As for myself, I have mentioned this towards last year but I still want to compile a list of all the writers I am currently following and read their works. I haven’t been in a good mindset to do that for a long time and I wish to get to know them. I’m a pretty shy person who struggles to start up a conversation, so I hope I get to make some friends on tumblr this year!

name one new thing you want to try doing in your writing this year.

I would like to make a list of aus and experiment with them for either one shots or some short series! I have so many creative ideas and thoughts but I always forget to take a note or maybe I’m doing something else and I end up getting caught up in a stream of consciousness, until I lose the initial spark. Also mentioned plenty of times, I would love to write for other groups, like nct, but for now I’ll focus on exo.

✨✨✨

anyway, that was it for my writerly contemplation tag!

I’m tagging a few fellow writers, but feel free to ignore for any reason! sorry if I forgot someone but feel free to do this even if I didn’t tag you!! @pororodks @velvetsehun @yeoldontknow @yeagerluvr @soos-goddess @shaalk @mooneylooney1 @dewbebe

[stimmybinnie]

Autism Acceptance Month Days 20-24

OKAY SO IM THE WORST XD I had typed a couple of these days up but forgot to actually schedule them... so heres another giant post... im sorry >.<

April 20: Discuss stimming. In what ways do you stim? What does stimming mean to you? What do individual stims that you do mean? Do you have any stim toys? What would you like people to know about stimming? I mean, I kinda talk about my stimming a lot on this blog already (ya know, stim bin...) and i'm kinda too tired to actually say anything about the individual stims themselves... all i can really say is that when it comes to stimming, i want people to know that it's normal and neccesary for me! don't shame people for stimming :c also i do have a ton of stim toys... joon and i really need to post our collections on here lol

April 21: Give a shoutout to some of your favorite autism blogs/autistic bloggers okayyyyy so this took way more thinking then I would like to admit because a lot of the time i dont look at yall's urls... i go off of the profile pic (or the general colours of your profile pic which is even worse...) or i know you by the content but not the url -_- ANYWAY some of my faves are (in no particular order): @butterflyinthewell - thank you for all the content and videos you post!!! i have nbeen able to learn a lot about autism through your content and have been able to use your videos to communicate things to NTs when I couldnt communicate what i wanted to say myself!) @autie-jake - thank you for making these prompts!!! i also enjoy all of your blogs content, it always makes me smile!) @autistickeely - i really enjoy the stuff you post and reblog, it gives me a lot of good reminders and positivity on days when i really needed it >.< I loved seeing your post recently (is it from today??? tumblrs concept of time is weird) about your comfort items! made me hug my stuffies real tight ^-^ @frogitivity - okay i love all the stuff you post (and i initially followed for the frogs lol!) but i gotta say i love the whole #bug talks tag! i love the fact that you share videos and such of your stimming and stuff too!! @undiagnosedautismfeels - since i am undiagnosed, i love scrolling this blog to help me remember that i do belong here and am autistic which is very very important to me >.< @biggest-gaudiest-patronuses - can i really make a autistic shout out post without shouting out Autistic Icon Gaud?? No I cannot. Seriously, tho, their blog is hilarious, gaud... thanks for simultaneously weirding me the fuck out and making my fucking day with every single post you have XD ((i also now realize that im not sure if we actually follow all y'all on stimbin here.... i follow you guys from my personal tumblr lmao but ill make sure to follow if we haven't already on this blog XD))

April 22: What are some social rules that do not make sense to you/that you don't understand? recently I'm struggling a lot with the fact that i need to tell people i cant talk. I'm usually very verbal but when i get burnt out, socializing is the first thing to go lol. So unless you're my person or I come to you first, I Do Not Want To Talk. And in fact, its usually extremely exhausting and honestly pisses me of very quickly which is something i'm currently trying to figure out how to tell people because when I tell people i just dont want to talk, they get offended and im not sure why. I think it's because I am usually talkative (obviously... have you seen my posts...) so when I'm not talkative people get worried and talk to me more... which,,, thank you for caring but also you're making it worse??? please someone help i have no idea how to express this to people >.< those who know (and accept...) im autistic have no issues with giving me space but those who dont know or dont believe me when i say im autistic (or those who dont know how it affects me...) dont seem to get it and just get mad at me. this is a social rule im having an issue with because it always got me in a Lot of trouble as a kid and even recently (maybe 2-3ish months ago??) my old manager got very hurt because i told her i just didnt want to talk that day and thats why i was quiet, but not to worry about me, i just needed some time/space & she was very hurt by that and kept bringing it up so i'm just really not sure how to do this....??? its very much a me thing and has nothing to do with you, so why do people get all upset, offended, mad at me, and ridicule me for not wanting to talk to them???? help /.\

April 23: Do you have any internal rules? What are they? Honestly, I know that I do but I can't currently think of any. They usually stem from masking/forced masking growing up so I don't really consciously think about them any more? its just a survival tactic from growing up. Like you know, don't rock in front of people, don't do this, don't do that, etc etc. I literally can't think of most things right now because I kinda block them out??? I should probably work on that. Can't help myself from getting out of the trauma mindset if I don't even know what I'm avoiding! The only like neutral/positive rule I can think of right now is that I really don't like my food to touch. Like, there are certain things I will mix, but if I can avoid things touching on my plate, I absolutely will. does that count as an internal rule? i think so lol

April 24: Talk about community. What does the autistic community mean to you? Is it important? How does it feel? to me... the autistic community is very important. If you made it this far in the post, you’d know just from my few little shout outs, community means a lot to me. I'm not necessarily one to wrap up my identity in my labels (as i talked about in my first post of days 1-5 cuz like this post... i missed some days -_-) but I enjoy having the label because it helps me to realize im not alone in my struggles, and my accomplishments can also be shared with a wonderful community. There's always something to be said about the importance of having people who share your interests and/or experiences, and it's amazing that i can just search into the actuallyautistic tag and find so many relatable posts and amazing people who i can relate to in even a small way. I thank everyone who has ever posted or reblogged something into the actuallyautistic tag for giving me such a comforting sense of belonging. Love all you guys >.<

[aratilightwood]

If Kit lived the extravagant lifestyle

Tagging @kit-herondale-blackthorn for the ‘Cirenworth hall’ craze fest.

...

(1) *Kit and Ty prepare for patrolling near a restaurant.*

“Are you ready to leave?” Ty asked as he walked into Kit’s bedroom.

“Yeah, give me a minute, I just have to lace up my red bottoms,” Kit replied.

“Red bottoms? What kind of demons have red bottoms?” Ty said.

“No they’re -“ Kit began. “Nevermind.”

(2) *Kit and Tessa wash dishes in the kitchen.*

“Do I really have to clear away the dishes?” Kit questioned miserably.

“Well, I cooked, so it only seems fair that you clean,” Tessa replied.

“But I don’t want to scratch my Rolex watch, please help me take it off,” Kit said.

“Fine,” Tessa sighed.

(3) *Kit and Emma prepare for patrolling at a bar*

“Have you got all the weapons you need?” Emma asked as she walked into the weapon’s room.

“Erm, yeah,” Kit replied.

She eyed the golden chain around his neck, “why are you still wearing that?”

“It might work like an electrum whip,” Kit said.

“I doubt that,” Emma replied.

(4) *Kit is feeding baby Cordelia.*

“Have you finished feeding Cordelia?” Jem asked as he peered in the living room doorway.

“Almost done,” Kit said happily.

“It’s good you’re getting practice,” Jem said.

Before Kit could reply, Cordelia picked up the plate that was filled with mushy bananas and flung it in his direction.

“Oh God, not my tie. It’s from Prada!” He exclaimed as he ducked to avoid the hit.

(5) *Kit and Ty are reading after hours in the library.*

“It says here, that a Raum demon’s venom doesn’t work immediately, but kills you slowly,” Ty said while he read a passage from the book.

“How long does it take for the victim to die than?” Kit asked.

“Hold on, this is a very old book. The writing has faded over the years. Could you please bring out your witchlight?” Ty said.

Kit reached into his pocket and took something out, “would this help?”

Ty eyed the shining object in Kit’s hands, “what’s that?”

“A Swarovski crystal,” Kit replied.

(6) *Residents of the institute plan to go to the ‘Midnight theatre’.*

“We’re going to be late, if we don’t leave now,” Ty said while he sat at the edge of Kit’s bed.

“I can’t find my silver cuff links,” Kit replied as he rummaged through his drawers.

“Pick another one, you have loads to choose from,” Ty said.

“But the silver ones have your initials, please help me find them,” Kit pleaded.

Ty smiled slightly, got up from the bed and walked towards Kit.

(7) *Kit and Dru plan to visit the shadow market.*

“Have you found a way to disguise yourself while we’re there?” Drusilla asked as she approached Kit near the institute’s entrance.

“Yeah, Givenchy sunglasses,” Kit said while he put them one.

“That’s not going to help,” Drusilla said. “It’s not even sunny outside.”

“It’s more of a fashion accessory than a convenient hindrance against sunlight,” Kit said.

Drusilla rolled her eyes, but followed him out of the institute anyway.

(8) *Kit is giving baby Cordelia a bath.*

“God, your hair grows a lot quicker than mine,” Kit said as he washed off the shampoo.

The baby giggled at the statement and splashed around the small bath tub.

“Bath time is your favourite time of the day, isn’t it?” Kit asked.

Cordelia’s smile grew wider as she noticed a ring glittering on Kit’s finger. She reached out and tried to grab it.

“Uh uh, no way,” Kit began as he moved his hand away. “You’re not having anymore of my rings, especially after the last one fell down the drain.”

(9) *Kit and Ty prepare to go patrolling on Santa Monica pier.*

“Kit, I can’t find my ge-“ Ty began as he walked into the training room. “What are you wearing?”

Kit was standing beside a target board in a casual jumper and jeans.

“It’s quite cold outside. I thought my Burberry, wool jumper would keep me warm,” Kit said.

“We’re going on patrol, not a moonlight walk. It’s best you wear your gear instead,” Ty replied.

“Nope, I should be fine like this,” Kit said.

(10) *Kit and Helen argue over washing clothes.*

“Kit, do you have any clothes that need cleaning?” Helen asked.

“I don’t think so,” Kit said after some thought.

“What about your leather jacket?” Helen said.

“Nope, I’m not putting that in the washing machine with the rest of the clothes after what happened to my other jacket. Oh the horror!” Kit said dramatically.

(11) *Kit and Ty walk around the shopping centre and do window shopping.*

“I don’t know why you wanted to go shopping,” Ty said. “You seem to have a lot of things already.”

“Even I can’t resist sales,” Kit replied.

A few moments passed when Ty felt a tug on his arm. He looked down and noticed that his shirt had caught on Kit’s bracelet.

“Kit!” Ty exclaimed. “This is the third time today your Armani bracelet has done this.”

Kit looked down at both of their arms and attempted to unlink them, “sorry.”

“Maybe its best you take it off,” Ty suggested.

“Erm, absolutely not,” Kit said.

(12) *Kit finds Julian in the art studio on Friday morning.*

“Julian, are you in here? Everyone’s been looking for you,” Kit said as he opened the door to the studio slightly.

“Yeah, I’m just finishing an art work. Is everything ok?” Julian replied.

Julian was standing in front of a canvass. The small paint brush in his hand had a rich, golden colour.

“The children are getting restless because it’s Friday, and you haven’t cooked any pancakes yet,” Kit said.

“Damn,” Julian said as he walked towards Kit. “I can’t believe I forgot.”

Suddenly some paint from the brush fell to the floor, only two inches away from Kit’s Jimmy Choo shoes.

Kit flinched back.

“Oops, sorry,” Julian said.

(13) *Dru and Kit decide to investigate the convergence site.*

“Have you got anything to place your weapons in?” Drusilla asked as they made their way down the staircase.

“Yeah, my Ralph Lauren bag,” Kit replied.

Drusilla gave the bag a long look and than gave Kit a disapproving one, “a weapon’s belt would be best.”

“It’s fine,” Kit said.

“You can’t put knives in there, the bag will get ruined,” Drusilla said.

“Not if they’re sheathed,” Kit replied.

(14) *The New York institute is hosting a Christmas ball, and everyone’s invited.*

“The portal to New York is opened. It’s time to lea-“ Ty began as he approached Kit.

“What?” Kit questioned when he saw Ty’s surprised face.

“You’re not seriously wearing that, are you?” Ty asked.

Kit was dressed formally in a waistcoat, shirt, trousers and bow tie, but he had an Icon cap on his head.

“What’s wrong with it?” Kit said.

“You look like you should be going to a baseball game, not party,” Ty laughed.

“I do not!” Kit protested.

(15) *Kit and Ty are changing into gear.*

“Ty, doesn’t this look great?” Kit asked as he adjusted the cashmere scarf around his neck.

“I’m sure gear isn’t supposed to accommodate any fashionable accessories,” Ty replied.

“I think it’s about time things change than,” Kit said.

“I don’t think so,” Ty said.

“Please, just try the red one,” Kit said while he held out another scarf.

(16) *Dru and Kit are spending time together in her room.*

“What kind of perfumes do you wear?” Kit asked as he examined Drusilla’s dressing table.

“I just borrow Emma’s, and I don’t know their names half of the time,” Drusilla said.

“You should try ‘Daisy’ by Marc Jacobs, it’s supposed to be great,” Kit said.

“Who’s Marc Jacobs, some kind of warlock?” Drusilla asked.

“Yeah,” Kit said with amusement.

(17) *Kit and Mark argue before he goes on patrol.*

“Give it back to me!” Kit cried as he tugged at his Gucci trousers.

“No, you’re not wearing this, it’s too nice. You’ll ruin it,” Mark replied while he pulled gently in retaliation.

“I’ll be extra cautious! Nothing’s going to happen to the trousers,” Kit said.

“I don’t believe that,” Mark said.

(18) *Kit and Ty take a walk on the beach.*

“I thought you always preferred wearing shoes whenever we walked on sand,” Ty said while he examined Kit’s feet.

“I am prepared to make any sacrifice for my Versace trainers,” Kit replied as he held onto his shoes.

“Well at least now you understand how great sand feels under foot,” Ty said.

“It’s like a warm blanket,” Kit sighed.

(19) *Kit and Aline talk before he goes on patrol.*

“What’s that smell?” Aline asked as she approached Kit.

Kit held out a bottle of perfume, “Dolce and Gabbana, do you like it?”

“Are you mad? You’re going demon hunting, not to a fashion show,” Aline exclaimed.

“What’s your point?” Kit said.

“Demons are attracted to nice scents,” Aline said. “You’re a dead man.”

“Not before I kill them first,” Kit said with a grin.

(20) *Kit is attending a Clave meeting.*

“Now, does anyone have suggestions for changes that need to be made to the new government?” Consul Alec asked.

Kit pulled out a Swarovski pen from his pocket, “I think we need to change the way steles are made.”

Alec gave Kit a questioning look, “steles cannot be made without adamas.”

“I know,” Kit said. “Keep the adamas, but I think we should decorate them with valuable gems, like this pen.”

“Kit I don’t think-“ Alec began.

“Please, it will look good,” Kit said.

...

@tdanetwork mission 1: favourite character

An AU of Kit living a completely different lifestyle to the one he’s known.

[inexprymable]

Am I really going to send you Hackle again for the ship tag? Most definitely 😂😂 If you would like to, of course

I would love to, thank you! I could talk about Hackle non stop and if I got 10 others requests of Hackle for this tag I would answer every each of them.

Now brace yourselves XD

SEND ME A SHIP and I’ll tell you:

Who said “I love you” first If Ada did, it would be a slip up after Hecate saved the day, or just remembered about something important Ada forgot, “Oh I love you”. I rather think Ada would say it first I think, but if it came to it being Hecate, maybe it would be late at night when she’d have thought Ada was asleep?

Who would have the other’s picture as their phone background Okay so thank TWW for Maglets. I think they both would have something else on their lock screens but on their home screens under a blood bound password they each would have a photo of their love.

Who leaves notes written in fog on the bathroom mirror It’s actually something Hecate starts because she prefers short showers so when Ada takes a bit longer, Hecate writes her a quick message to where she would find her or sometimes just draw a heart as cheesy as it is. Of course Ada promised to not say Dimity about the hearts, as cute that is.

Who buys the other cheesy gifts Okay! Both of them! Ada buys Hecate little things that remind her of Hecate when she sees them when she’s away and they’re all small things like a cauldron charm for a bracelet. Hecate… does too because she knows Ada loves those little things, in turn she buys Ada all the owl figurines and actually most of them in Ada’s office are from her.

Who initiated the first kiss I think it would be Hecate. Be it either when she found out Ada was out of some kind of danger and she was so happy to see her, or after a very lovely evening and long conversations about nothing. She would pull away and apologise but then Ada would pull her in for another kiss.

Who kisses the other awake in the morning Ada does as in a previous ship tag I established she’s the one who wakes up first. Sometimes she gives Hecate more time to sleep but in the end when she knows Hecate needs to wake up she presses her lips into Hecate’s. However when for some reason Hecate is jolted awake *Mildred/Ethel/first/second years* she kisses Ada’s cheek softly, but she doesn’t wake her if it’s the middle of the night.

Who starts tickle fights Ada does because in one of their make out sessions while their relationship was still new to them, she learnt Hecate was rather ticklish. She told Ada she absolutely hated being tickled but that would often lead to something more pleasurable. Sometimes she can tickle back, and Ada is less ticklish but it still does the trick.

Who asks who if they can join the other in the shower I can say for sure that when Ada finishes her work and wants to wash up she says that casually and says “I wonder if you’d like to join me”. Hecate usually says she has more grading to do but she drops everything and asks “May I join you?” because how could she deny herself that?

Who surprises the other in the middle of the day at work with lunch It depends whether Hecate needs to make sure the potions lab is clean enough so Ada makes sure to bring her something to eat, or if Ada is dealing with something that cannot wait, like paperwork or council business and then Hecate offers to help and brings some lunch with her.

Who was nervous and shy on the first date I’d like to say they both were, for different and the same reasons. They were friends before they were more, and it was important for both of them to remain friends, so they worried they weren’t enough for each other, or that they were too much, or that being friends for so long would be an issue for some reason. But sooner rather than later they would feel comfortable enough to leave this behind and just enjoy their date.

Who kills/takes out the spiders It’s safe to say in the witching world most people don’t have arachnophobia, with exceptions of course. Ada and Hecate often need them for potions (sorry spider lovers) and I would say they don’t have a problem with them.

Who loudly proclaims their love when they’re drunk Hecate does! Because she’s so in love with Ada and then she sees Ada’s smile and Can you see how beautiful she is when she smiles? I swear I could melt in her eyes. Ada, do you know I love you? Can you all believe I’m dating this woman? - Hecate, we’re married…| But! The first time Ada tells someone else she’s in love with Hecate, Miss Bat I would say, before she and Hecate get together, Ada needs Dutch courage.

[ohgoddard]

Fist of Festivity: A FoF Christmas story.

“Bells will be ringing… that sad sad news. Ooh what a Christmas, to have the blues..”

The song from the Eagles comes softly over the radio as numerous people sit around a Christmas tree, laughter all around. Outside the window of this small room falls a heavy snow, unknown to the city of Atlanta for some years now. Inside though, safe from the cold and sleet, a warmth of happiness of friends and family creates all the comfort they need. The room they find themselves in is not one too glamorous, but it can be seen that an effort at decorating was found. Garland was hung around the ceiling with golden tinsel laced within it. A tree that was decorated with homemade ornaments from the years of childhood and family memories that they have accrued. On it are numerous pictures of a smiling child, keepsakes of cities they have visited. In the kitchen, not too far away in this small apartment, a kettle is being warmed up for the hot chocolate. 

The Laurens household was a jolly location.

Jade and Riley cuddle close together on the couch, home from college for the holidays. Each wore a gaudy Christmas sweater, bad enough to make even the most blind men reel. But they loved it. In the frenzy of college life, both women had taken an absence from detailed hair upkeep. While Riley had kept her half-shaved style, the usual colored accents she added to it were faded and nearly gone, the color returning to its usual black. Jade cannot be faulted for allowing her hair to grow a bit longer, seeing how she was never the one to have it cut. Her ginger hair has grown beyond its pixie style to a more side-swept and curly one. Although, it was still a tight cut. A memento she refuses to let go.

Underneath the blanket they hold hands and huddle close together, despite the heat turned up and the closeness the actual warmth is still to be desired. The small TV on the wall her mother had, turned to the news because of course it is, said that the snow fall wouldn’t stop until tomorrow morning. The roads were closed and buses and trains halted.

Jade’s mother returned from the kitchen with two hot mugs in her hand, giving them to Riley and Jade as she sat on the small stool next to her kitchen counter.

“I’m sorry about this, Riley. If I had known there’d be a storm i’d have gotten the cot out of the storage!” Riley gave a small chuckle. “Don’t worry Mrs. Laurens, its fine I assure you. My parents are totally understanding. I honestly could go out right now and make it back just fine.”

Jade lightly slapped Riley, making the type of face where one is only playfully mad. “No you will NOT. It is twenty degrees outside and iced roads everywhere! You will slip and fall and hurt yourself running.” Riley turned and gave Jade a sort of incredulous look. “I’ve run on ice before! As part of my training I run on all terrains! Even in the academy I ran on ice!” 

“But it's christmas eveeeee” Jade replied with a big set of puppy dog eyes. Riley rolled her own before hugging her girlfriend.

“I wasn’t going to do it, just that I could.”

A small chuckle escaped Mrs.Laurens as she sipped on her own cup of hot chocolate. She was dressed very much like a mother on Christmas eve. A full blown gingerbread house style sweater, and red going on grey hair pulled up into a small bun behind her head with soft reading glasses on her nose. “I hope you know that you couldn’t leave this place anyways, Riley. I’d have to use my powers to stop you.”

Both women turned to look at Mrs.Laurens with a surprised look. 

“Mom you have a quirk?!” Her mother gave a smiling, sagely nod.  Jade stood up fast, almost knocking over both hers and Riley’s drinks. “WHAT?!?! How have I never known until now?!”

“Oh you’ve seen it, believe me.” Riley stroked her chin like a monk, grinning. “I think I know what it is. You can control heat, cant you?” Mrs.Laurens sipped her mug again, before replying with a “Nope.”

Jade, now squatting on the couch, sneakily bends forward to whisper something into Riley’s ear. Riley then stands up. “Welllll, I suppose I should at least try and make it home. Gonna be a professional hero in the future can't let a little snow keep me down, know? So i’ll just be on my -”

Mrs.Laurens set her mug on the counter, slowly turned to face Riley and crossed her arms. Then she raised an eyebrow at her. “Really? You’re gonna leave?” Jade was confused, was she using her quirk now? She looked at Riley, and saw with surprise that she was hesitant in moving to the door. “Y-yeah. Just gonna head home, don't wanna take up any space here y'know?” Mrs.Laurens stood up and walked towards Riley, a good half a foot shorter. Looking up at Riley, she speaks again. “Really?” Mrs.Laurens drew the word out, lacing it with the most smug tone.

Riley bowed her head and spoke softly “......no…” And as she returned to the couch, Jade could only watch on with amazement. “How..how did you do that mom?!”

“Oh Jade, it's a special power that not even the most powerful heroes have. The power of a mother’s intuition and command.” The loudest groan escaped Jade as she threw herself backwards onto the couch, and subsequently on Riley. “Moooooom you corny nerd.” Mrs. Laurens giggled. Riley sighed and brought the blanket around her body to warm herself, when a thought occurred to her.

“Jade, why are we using a blanket to warm ourselves? And why are we stuck here due to ice? You literally control the sun.”

“Because I told her she’s not allowed to use powers on Christmas eve, that's reserved to Jesus and no one else.”

Jade gave an agreeing nod, but whispered to Riley just loud enough so that only the two of them could hear. “I also set the tree on fire last year, so we’re trying to avoid that.”

“Ah.”

Jade’s attention turned to the tree, mostly to the boxes underneath it. Riley had brought some presents home with her to give to Jade and her mom, so they too joined the rest under the tree. But the one that caught Jade’s attention was a nondescript white box with a simple blue bow atop it. It did not have the careful wrapping of her mom or herself, nor the chaotic tapping and ramshackle method of Riley. And just as she was about to ask her mom, she yawned.

“Well children, I think its time we should go to bed and all. Riley, I hope you don’t mind sharing a room with Jade. I’d have her sleep on the couch, but I don’t trust her to go poking through the gifts.”

Riley snickered as Jade’s face turned red. “Mom! I wouldn't! I'm a good kid now!” “Mhm sure hun. My, if you could hear the stories. One christmas eve, Victor caught her hiding in a hollowed out portion of the couch so she could wait for us to go to sleep. And another, this was when Joseph was over, she tried to bribe him in Santa’s own cookies to bring her a gift! And another-”

“MOM!” Jade’s face had achieved a color of red equal to her hair, as Riley was leaning against the wall covering her mouth to hide her grin. She loved how Jade looked when she was embarrassed, it was cute.

“Fine, I’ll stop. But I learned a few things from Joseph! So don’t go sneaking, I’ll find out.”

“I won’ttttt” Jade said like a child, dragging out the last word.

As the goodnights were spoken, each retreated into their rooms. Jade’s room had not changed much since she had left for college. Which was bad for the bed situation, as she and Riley would have to nearly be on top of eachother. Which Riley seemed to have guessed, given the salacious look on her face. “You better get off that face and attitude in the next five minutes. This is Christmas Eve at my mom’s house!” Jade spoke in a  quick and angry whisper, which only caused Riley to snort in laughter.

“I wasn’t thinking that! Well, now I am. Your fault really.”

A pillow entered terminal velocity and found it’s destination to be Riley’s face.

“Fiiiiine.”

As the two of them slipped under the covers and into each other’s arms, it was not long until they had visions of sugarplum fairies dancing in their head. Except Jade, who in the last few minutes of lucidity before falling asleep in the embrace of her girlfriend, thought of this : what is in that box?[i].

Christmas morning was freezing, and Jade’s mom was almost about to forgo her respect for Jesus to allow a bit of supernatural fire. However, the heater eventually sputtered to life and delivered a bearable atmosphere. Mrs.Laurens cooked a delicious breakfast, cranberry bread and pigs in a blanket. A small tradition in their household that Riley was strongly considering getting her parents to join in on. And of course, after the meal the real treasure awaited them.

Mrs.Laurens passed out each present to each, and a hearty amount was in each person’s pile. Riley got a mess of work-out shirts and shorts, headbands, and a small fortune in green tea kitkats (her favorite). Jade got art supplies, several t-shirts from bands and shows she liked, and a new laptop. Her mom mostly got knicknacks from Boston, but she loved them anyways.

After the initial fervor died and everyone got their gifts, Jade was looking around at her family. It was a happiness she hasn’t felt in a long while. The snow still fell outside the window, meaning that the weatherman was wrong again. Or, ironically, it means The Weatherman escaped prison and started causing a snowstorm. Still, inside the apartment it was warm and nice, the laughter of Riley and her mom exchanging stories about her aside. However, it was during all this taking in that Jade noticed the small box again. It must have been overlooked in the present handing out, and was pushed to behind the tree. Jade walked over to the tree and picked the box up, looking at it further. It fit within her one hand, and had no indication as to who it goes to.

But there was a tag on the blue bow. An initial of “JE”.

Jade’s mom noticed what she was looking at and stood up. “Oh my, I completely forgot.” her daughter turned to look at her. “That was left behind a few months ago for you. By Joseph.”

The box suddenly felt so much more heavier. Riley’s laughing expression left as she looked at Jade, replaced by a numb and shocked one. Jade’s was much the same. Her mom smiled. “Well? Go ahead. Open it!”

Jade gently removed the ribbon from around the box, and opened it. Inside was a note.

She picked it up, not paying attention to the other object within it.

”Hey there Solar Flare. See what I did? It was funny cuz it rhymed. Anyways, I don’t know if I’m going to be there to give this to you. I may not be a psychic, but I know my time is limited. Right now as I'm writing this, you are asleep in your room and your mom is still out at the hospital working. She’s the real hero, y’know? She saves more people than I ever have. And I think you will too. I found this the other day while packing my stuff, and I thought you might want it. 

Give ‘em the heat of hell,

-Joseph Ellington, Reverse.

P.s. I’d slap my knees at the jokes I make around your house if I still had them.”

The signature where his name was became water stained as a single happy tear fell from Jade’s eye. She gently folded the note, and tucked it into her pocket before returning to the other contents of the box. Resting on the bottom of the box was a necklace of iron beads, and a small scrap of paper.

She lifted the necklace up, revealed them to be dogtags. At the end of them read, “Laurens SHS Agent : Reverse.” It became an instant addition to herself, as she put it on. The metal felt cold against her skin, but at the same time comforting. Like a hug from an old friend. And finally the paper. As she picked it up and unraveled it, she almost dropped it out of pure emotion.

Giving each other the biggest hug and holding a small baby was her dad and Reverse. Each in their costume, Reverse in his boxing get-up and her dad in his stark white and red glory. Between them was a small baby with red hair. On the backside of the photo was writing.

“first time meeting uncle J, he called her a great ball of fire!” 

“Jade, honey? Are you alright?”

As she looked up , her eyes streaming and face beaming with happiness, she said

“Happier than ever before.”

And as she showed her mom the picture, and she joined in on the crying, followed by Riley who thought it was the right thing to do at the time, Jade heard a soft voice in her mind.

“Merry Christmas, kid.”

[the-chubbiest-dumpling]

Endings and Beginnings: Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen: Mamihlapinatapai

Summary: You’re just an ordinary 25-year-old photographer working in a small studio in downtown Toronto. Your life is as normal as it could possibly be, except the fact that you are given an opportunity most people only dream of.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 22 616

Warnings: Swearing. There will always be swearing. Use of bombs. 

A/N: I am so sorry everyone. I feel like this is word vomit. 50 pages of single-spaced word vomit. But I hope you enjoy this anyway!

Mamihlapinatapai (n) (Origin Yaghan): a look shared by two people, each wishing that the other would initiate something they both desire but which neither wants to begin

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Epilogue

Tags: @shamvictoria11 @blazeshira

Another week passes, and you’re doing better.

The painkillers have been a blessing, dissolving the pain in your leg almost instantaneously. They’re surely something else. You haven’t run out yet, so there’s no need to bother Dr. Markson about it. He still comes by every now and then, seeing how you’re doing. It’s been great so far, and he seems satisfied. Just as a doctor should.

Your therapy with Dr. Laine has also gone pretty well also. You can put a little more pressure on your right leg, but not enough to be able to limp around without using crutches. Speaking of which, the crutches are very resourceful when it comes to reaching things on the ground, and occasionally giving someone a smack on the ass. All in good humour, though.

You can take solid foods again, thank god. You were starting to hate having jello, noodles, and a lot of water. The water was fine, since sometimes you’re mistaking your hunger for thirst, but damn. You’d kill for some chicken wings or a pizza.

Today feels like another lazy day. Tony’s gone back in New York for whatever reason. He didn’t really mention anything except that it was important. Wanda and Natasha have also left to go into the city for a number of reasons that they didn’t wish to disclose. Which leaves you with Steve, Sam, Bucky, and Vision. The Testosterone Quartet. You have no idea what Vision does with his time, but you can guess that he just wanders around or has his own private accommodations that he stays in for an allotted amount of time. Either way, you don’t see him very much.

Instead of just watching another movie to pass the time, you decide to be a little more productive today. After having a bowl of fruit, you change into some workout clothes and head down to the weights room. Naturally, you’d find Steve, Sam, and Bucky there. As you wobble over to the door, you can already hear them inside. And they’re fighting about something. You smile and shake your head as you walk in, giving them a wave of your crutch.

“Hello, fellas,” you say, heading over to the weights wall. They all fall silent when they see you. You raise a brow, but Steve clears his throat and speaks up first.

“_______,” he greets with a nod. “What uh… What’re you doing down here?”

“I can workout my upper body still,” you explain, slowly sitting down on a bench. You set your crutches aside and pick up some dumbbells. “Might as well do something so I don’t lose all my muscle mass.”

Steve and Sam look at each other nervously, and you catch on to it. Bucky seems a little anxious as well, scratching his neck and avoiding eye contact.

“Is something wrong?” you ask, curling your arms in. They all look at each other, having a non-verbal conversation. You feel like you’ve stumbled into something that was meant to be kept private. You stare at them curiously, waiting for one of them to speak up.

“Well, Cap,” Sam sighs in defeat. “We might as well, right?”

“We’re finished, for the most part,” Steve says, glancing at you. “Bucky’s ready, I’m ready. I think it’s worth a go.”

“Mm,” Bucky grunts in agreement. You set your weights down, wondering what the hell they’re talking about.

“Someone wanna enlighten me?” you ask, cocking your head to the side.

Steve crosses his arms and grins widely, looking up at the ceiling. You raise your eyebrows and look up as well, questioning just what the hell they have planned. Sam and Bucky smile in unison, then go over to join Steve.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” he calls out.

“Yes, Captain Rogers?”

“You know what to do.”

You look on, still confused, as they line up together. But when you hear the overhead song, you burst out into a gigantic smile.

“No wayyy!” you yell, giggling with excitement. You clap your hands and sing along to the lyrics of Red Velvet’s “Dumb Dumb”.

You never knew you could laugh this hard. Watching three grown men dance to an energetic, girly KPOP song is the icing on the cake. The cherry on top. And the fact that they went and practiced by themselves to do this for you? You couldn’t be happier.

You notice they’re improved a lot. They’re less stiff, their footwork is a solid nine out of ten, and even their enthusiasm has gotten much better. They may only be smiling because they feel so stupid, but you couldn’t care less. This was supposed to be their punishment for not telling you about the fixed training room, but right now, this feels like a reward. Watching them dance in unison is a sight to see.

And you hope F.R.I.D.A.Y. is secretly recording it.

Bucky is definitely smiling a lot more. He must feel like a fool, and that’s why he can’t stop smiling, but you can’t help but wonder if he’s actually enjoying it. You know you certainly are. You try to watch them all equally, but your eyes always trail back to Bucky, his metal arm easily conforming to the arm movements. He seems like he wants to be angry, but he just can’t. When he frowns for a second, he immediately breaks out into a smile. He’s so surprised at himself that he can’t help but show it.

You’re surprised yourself when they execute the parts they had difficulty with with ease. They don’t bump into each other when they transition to their new spots, nor do they swear in frustration if they miss a step. It’s fantastic to see them getting along for your sake.

You do the hand movements as you’re sitting, unable to keep yourself from joining in. The song is so cheery and exhilarating that it gets your heart racing and your blood pumping. You’ve never felt so content in your life. Here they are, members of The Avengers (minus Bucky, for now), dancing enthusiastically to the girly song you picked out for them, and it’s almost perfect. Their hip movements are your favourite part. The satisfying snap and lock of their hips they make is so pleasing that you get goosebumps on your arms and legs.

By the end, you’re crying from laughter and happiness. You wipe your eyes as they do their ending poses, huffing and puffing, and you sniffle, trying to control yourself.

“I can’t believe thiiis,” you whine. “I thought you guys forgot!” They all drop their arms and keep catching their breath. Steve speaks up first.

“Of course not,” he says, hands on his hips. Sweat drips down from his forehead, and his cheeks are red. From sweating or embarrassment, you can’t tell.

“Yeah, I had to remind them,” Sam cuts in, shoving Steve with his shoulder.

“Okay, well,” Steve starts, trying to defend himself. “I didn’t forget. It just slipped my mind.”

“Liar,” Bucky smiles. “Even I remembered.”

“Gimme some credit, man,” Steve laughs.

You watch on, still trying to console yourself. You’re bursting with radiance, and you cannot believe that they did this for you. It’s certainly a great “welcome back” gift. You had no time to teach them because you were stuck in bed for a week, and even more so because you’re wounded. You weren’t going to bug them about it, since they had other things to worry about, but obviously you were wrong. They actually got together and decided to learn and finish the dance for you.

What did you do to deserve these three?

“You guys are amazing, oh my god,” you say, wiping away the last of your tears.

“No need to cry over us, Spyro,” Sam says. “We know we’re awesome.”

You blow your lips and shake your head at them. You pick up your dumbbells again and begin your curls.

“I love you guys, you know that?” you say. “Honestly. What did I do to deserve great guys like you?”

“Funny. We could say the same thing about you,” Steve says. You smile widely and look towards the floor.

“Shut up,” you mutter.

Sam stands with his arms crossed, and leans forward, seeking some acknowledgment.

“Hellooo? Are you gonna tell us how we did or leave us hanging?”

“Oh right!” You keep curling your arms in as you give your critique. “Your footwork was on point. I’m very impressed with how far you’ve come in that regard. Your movements were fluid and precise. A few slip-ups here and there, but anyone who doesn’t know the dance wouldn’t notice. Ummm. The transitions went surprisingly well. None of you bumped into each other, and none of you looked towards the other to see if you were doing it right. Your hips were very sharp and precise, never sluggish. I’d say the overall execution is nine and a half out of ten.”

You set your weights down for a second to give them a hearty applause of praise. Sam and Steve jokingly bow, while Bucky beams at you. They’re all genuinely happy that you enjoyed their performance.

“We thought this would cheer you up,” Steve explains. “Being stuck here indefinitely with a bad leg has more cons than pros.”

“Awww,” you coo. “Well. Thanks for thinking of me in this dire situation. I am very cheered up.”

“We’re glad to hear it,” he says.

“Next time I’m feeling down, I’ll just get you guys to dance for me,” you joke.

“Don’t count on it, Spyro,” Sam laughs. You pout at his answer, but you were expecting it anyway.

“Okayyy,” you sigh. You lay on your back on the bench and pick up your weights again. “One can only hope.”

Steve chuckles and leans over to poke your forehead. He’s about to leave you alone when he remembers something.

“Thank you again for yesterday, _______,” he says. “It’s a birthday I’ll never forget.”

“You’re very welcome, Steve,” you smile. “I totally forgot about it until a little while ago, so I got everyone together to plan it. Even if you didn’t want it. I couldn’t not let you celebrate your birthday.”

“I really appreciate it,” he smiles.

“Hopefully next year will be just as good,” you say. “Maybe better. Maybe you’ll get a bigger surprise.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

He smiles again before finding his way to the weights. Sam comes over to flick your nose, and in return, you playfully smack his leg as he goes on his way. Bucky, on the other hand, comes down and sits on the floor. He loosely wraps his arms around his knees and peers up at you.

“’Sup,” you say with a head nod.

“Hey,” he smiles. You begin your chest flies, flicking your eyes down at him, smiling widely.

“That was quite the performance,” you say again. “You seemed like you were really enjoying it.”

“Was I?” he smiles, running a hand through his hair. “’Cause I’m pretty sure I messed up a few parts. I wasn’t very happy about that.”

“That’s not what your face was telling me,” you smirk. “You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. It’s okay. You can admit it.”

“Okay, yeah, I know,” he confirms. “I’m just not used to doing something so… so–“

“Amazing?” you guess. “Incredible? Outstanding?”

“Awkward.”

You burst out laughing, groaning all the while as you drop your weights to the floor. Bucky laughs along with you, albeit quietly. He wears a soft expression as he listens to your laugh. It’s one of his favourite sounds you make. Another is when you squeal from surprise when he sneaks up on you; another is when you hiccup from eating too much too fast then scowl when everyone picks on you for it. And one more is when you’re enthusiastically belting out the lyrics to your favourite songs. The way you look so carefree and genuinely happy makes his heart swell.

He’s had time to lay out his feelings that he has for you. There are some there, but he still wants to get to know you better. Watching movies together and working out in the same room is nice and all, but he doesn’t get the chance to talk with you much. Most of that being his own fault, but he needed time to figure himself out. He was wary of everyone when he arrived at the compound. He knew of everyone, except for you. You were the new face that forced him out of cryostasis and took away his trigger words. He couldn’t thank you enough, and he still feels like he can’t. But he hopes at least he’ll get to know you as a person. So far, the only things he knows about you are that you have an intense love for music, your go-to dinner is vegetables and rice, and that you love to sleep in. Other than that, he’s got nothing. Nothing on an emotional level. And despite the irony, he wants to know those parts of you. Funny how he can’t open up about himself, but he’s always willing to listen about other’s lives. Having a deep connection is essential to any relationship; and he’s having trouble getting there.

“Okay, I guess so,” you continue on after your laugh attack. You wipe the sweat from your forehead and sit up to look him in the eye. “But you still did great. All of you did. I am very proud of you.”

“Thanks,” he snorts, looking towards the floor. You pout, then push his forehead back with your finger so he’s looking at you again.

“And I mean it,” you say earnestly. “For an old guy, you move pretty well for a girl group dance.”

His eyes crinkle in the most beautiful way as he grins. He leans away so your finger falls, then stands up to sit down on the bench with you. You raise a brow at him and can’t help but smile along with him. You can’t not smile when you’re around Bucky. It’s your default whenever he walks into the room; whether he just came out of his room, going outside to train with Steve, or just lounging about. Bucky’s presence gives you a reason to be in a good mood. And no matter how many teasing comments Wanda gives you, you don’t tear your eyes away from him.

“How’s your leg?” he asks. “Can you stretch it?”

“Hmm?” You look down at your thigh, still securely wrapped up in bandages. It’s been a blessing to have everyone help you change it. But Bucky especially, for obvious reasons. You shrug indifferently. “More or less. Dr. Laine does some exercises sometimes to get me used to movement again. The stitches feel better, so it’s not that painful, but some still lingers.”

“How often do you do that?”

“Every other day.”

“Would you like me to do some exercises with you?”

Biggest internal scream of your entire goddamn life.

“Sure.”

You keep a straight face as you lay down on your back, and slowly raise your leg into Bucky’s hands. He holds your heel and the back of your calf, then looks towards you for instruction.

“It’s pretty basic,” you start, your voice sounding a little strained. “Dr. Laine usually just bends my leg until I can’t take the pain anymore. Then stretches it back out, and then vertically too. She repeats it so I can get used to it. And for other medical reasons I don’t bother to listen to.”

Bucky nods, then grips your ankle as he stands up and starts slowly pushing your leg in. When he sees your eyes twitch in pain, he pulls your leg back out. With your leg extended, he pushes it straight upwards, then back down again. He keeps repeating the process, and takes the chance to talk to you some more. But instead of idle chit chat, he wants to know you as a person.

“Sooo where did you grow up?” he asks.

This is new.

“Oh. Um. You could probably guess,” you say, tucking your hands behind your head. He pulls his mouth to the side, giving it a bit of thought, before just shrugging his shoulders. You bite your tongue as you smile as you sing. “Just a small town girl~. Living in a lonely world~.”

“Don’t Stop Believing,” Bucky smiles. “Journey. I remember that one.”

“Nice!” you say, giving him a little clap. “Yeah. Grew up in a small village in Southern Ontario. Went to the local elementary school, then out of town for high school. I got a student summer job at my dad’s workplace for two summers before getting a photography job out of town for a year to save up and move all the way to Toronto to go to university. The money helped a lot with rent and expenses, but it was still pretty tight. Started from the bottom now I’m here.”

“Small town girl in the big city,” he says, rolling your ankle. “I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

“That’s okay,” you say. “I don’t think many people would. A lot of my friends grew up in populated cities, but a handful grew up with me. About a fifty-fifty chance.”

“It must have been a pain at times though,” he says. He puts your leg down and starts stretching the other one. “Being away from everything.”

“Ehhh.” You give a shake of your hand. “That was fifty-fifty too. I mean, mostly everything was within walking distance. It was great when I was a kid. We would go to my aunt’s house a lot because they had a pool. And so did my other aunt. And another, but they were about an hour away. Anyway. Yeah. I could walk and bike to school, but as I got older I learned to drive and got my G2. And I didn’t mind at times driving into the city to go get groceries or go shopping at the mall. Made more time for music. That’s one of the best parts.”

“You really like music, huh?” he muses.

“You have no idea,” you snort. “Ohhh! Lemme tell you about how I got into KPOP.”

This goes on for a while. Bucky would ask a question, you would answer, then go a little off-track and talk about another thing that happened in your life. At some points you ask if you’re talking too much, but Bucky shakes his head and tells you to continue on. Steve watches from afar, a huge smile plastered to his face. He’s having the time of his life seeing Bucky learn more about you. He’s not going to stop pestering Bucky about it now. But in a smooth, sly way, sneaking it in there when Bucky’s least expecting it. Even when Bucky’s finished stretching your legs, and you’ve completed your upper body training, you haven’t stopped talking. Leaving the weights room, going upstairs in the elevator, and having a snack in the kitchen; Bucky’s been mentally writing everything down, trying to remember the important things. But to Bucky, everything matters. Your past injuries, your embarrassing moments, the times you got the shit scared out of you. Every little bit of a person is important. And he wants to remember these things for you. And to tease you when the chance presents itself.

“–and then I almost cried in my seat because I was so scared.” You pause to take a bite of your apple. “I’m the person that hates scary movies. Hate ‘em with my fiery being. When she suggested we all go see Annabelle, I knew I couldn’t tell her no because then I’d just ruin everyone’s good time. So I sucked it up, and covered my ears and closed my eyes at the really scary parts. The way they designed the demon thing was so fuckin’ unbelievable. I caught a glimpse of it and I swear to god I didn’t stop thinking about it for a couple months.”

You sigh sadly, trying to shake the memory from your head. That should be another thing for Vision to take away. He said he’d never do it again, but you can always hope. He took his sweet time with Bucky, so maybe with enough coaxing, Vision will take away another memory for you. But him being who and what he is, he might not go for it. You’re so deep in thought about getting Vision to comply that you don’t even hear Bucky calling your name.

“_______?” he tries again. “_______?”

“O-Oh!” You look up from the counter and focus on him again. “Sorry. I spaced out for a second. What’d you say?”

“I asked,” he starts, smiling stupidly, “if you had any more bad experiences with scary movies.”

You give him a deadpan expression.

“When do I not?” you say, shaking your head. “Let’s see. I watched Strangers when I was at my aunt’s house. Apparently it was based on two different real-life events? That just made it all worse. I didn’t wanna be the only one not watching it, so me being stupid, I went in, watched it, and was horrified. Didn’t stop thinking about that for a few months either. Um. Oh! Our soccer team would have parties at our assistant coach’s house, and during Halloween, we’d watch the scary Halloween movies. I didn’t appreciate that either, but for some goddamn reason, everyone just loved scary movies. Some of them even made fun of the movies and I’m just sitting there all confused about it, wondering why the hell they’re not scared out of their minds. It’s weird. I try to avoid them altogether, but some of them aren’t that bad. Like the Paranormal Activity movies got nothing on me.”

“Why’s that?”

“First of all, I kinda like those kinds of movies where it’s from the perspective of the person with the camera. You see all the shakes and motion and all that. This movie series is like that. I got motion sickness from seeing one of them in theatres, though. I felt awful.”

“How can you get motion sickness from a movie?”

“It’s because of the fact that you can see and experience all the movements the camera is making from the character running and switching back and forth. Not fun. Anyway. They’re paranormal movies. Ghosts, things moving around on their own; stuff like that I can handle. But when you add demons or gore into the mix, I just cannot deal with it.”

“Would it be better if… someone was there to watch it with you?”

“Pffft nope. I’d protest first, and when I finally cave, I’ll be hiding behind pillows, or even go as far as listening to music and playing on my phone. Rude be damned. If I don’t want to watch a scary movie, then I won’t.”

“Why don’t you like them?”

“Well, ‘cause they’re meant to prey on our primal instinct to survive. And I don’t want to watch a movie about some guy in a mask going around climbing into people’s homes and slicing their throats. Otherwise, I’ll be thinking about it while I’m lying in bed, scenarios playing in my mind, always asking ‘what if?’. The ones based on true stories are the worst of the worst because it actually happened in real life. And I don’t need that kind of shit in my life.”

Not exactly what Bucky wanted to hear, but he can’t blame you. Why curl up to someone in fear while you’re watching something horrifying when you don’t even need to watch it at all? He’s slightly disappointed, but he definitely gets where you’re coming from. Looking at the time, you hop on over to one of the kitchen cabinets to take your painkillers. You know Dr. Markson said take one every eight hours, which you are, but when the pain is too much, you take another to counteract the sting. It’s seen better days, and you’re sure it’s almost healed. You just hope you can ditch those crutches as soon as possible.

“Is it acting up again?” Bucky asks, looking over his shoulder at you.

“Meh,” you reply, shrugging. “It’s nothing. I take them as directed, but every now and then I take another if I feel like I really need it. Ice packs or elevating it will just piss me off. Plus, these work almost as soon as I take it, so it’s not so bad.”

“I don’t wanna sound like I’m telling you what to do,” he starts, pursing his lips. “But I think you should listen to your doctor.”

“Sure thing, Tony,” you scoff, taking a swig of your water. He looks a little hurt by your sarcasm. You ease back into being playful. “I’m only joking. I do listen to him. But hey, I’m not dead yet, right? Maybe you can blame me then.”

“Hopefully I won’t have to.”

“True. Oh! Speaking of death, you would not believe the amount of car accidents my cousins have been in. Let me tell ya.”

And you do. He’s a little timid when he listens because he doesn’t really enjoy talking about life-or-death situations. He’s way past that stage of gossip. He’s grateful though when you don’t go off about anything past car accidents. He doesn’t know how he’d deal with the kind of conversation where you talk about a past friend or relative that died. He just couldn’t. Now, he cautiously steers you in another direction.

“Do you have any other stories about past friends?” he starts, clasping his hands together on the counter. “Things they did to embarrass you, or any trips you went on, or past relationships?”

You give him a few hearty laughs at that last one. You shake your head in disbelief and round the counter to be closer to him.

“I have got about zero stories regarding that topic,” you chuckle.

“Really?” He sounds a little too happy about it.

“Pfft, yeah,” you say. “I mean, a few here and there, but they were nothing special.”

“So you do have some stories then?”

“Ehh not really. But I can tell you that–oh hey!”

Just when as it’s getting good, Natasha comes waltzing around the corner. You give her a smile and a hug when she approaches you. She gives another smile and a head nod towards Bucky. He returns the same actions and looks at his hands.

So much for that.

“Haven’t seen ya ‘round here for a while,” you say. “Where’ve you been hiding?”

“I haven’t,” she clarifies. “You’ve just been cooped up in here too long to notice me.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that,” you agree. “So what’s up?”

“I would like to borrow you for a while,” she explains. “Would you mind?”

“Not at all,” you reply. You limp over to your crutches and wave to Bucky.

“I’ll talk to you later, okay?” you call as you go off with Natasha.

“Yeah,” comes his quiet reply. He gives you a small smile, but it falls when you disappear down the hall and to the elevator. Bucky sighs and stands up straight, cracking his knuckles. He was so close to getting onto the topic of romantic situations, and then Natasha comes swooping in and whisks you away to God knows where. Just his luck. When he sees you again later that night, or perhaps even the next day, he knows he can’t bring the topic up again without giving the impression that he’s thinking about you in that way. He knows that somehow, someway, in the matter of circumstances, the topic will be brought up again on its own. He just knows it will. Then he’ll have his chance to pry.

He decides to head to the pool, of all places. His arm is waterproof, and as far as he can tell, he’ll be alone. He doesn’t see many of the team members going for a swim. It’s helpful exercise, plus he’ll be alone with his thoughts to think about how he’s going to win you over.

One month later

You’ve never been more ecstatic in your life since coming to the compound. Finally. Your leg is healed.

It’s been a dandy four weeks sitting in therapy and being bored out of your mind. You never thought you’d see the day where you say you hate watching TV to pass time. It gets incredibly tedious when there’s nothing good to watch, and you decide to just nap instead. But then you’d be shaken awake to have a check-up with Dr. Markson. No offence to the guy, but you do not interrupt someone when they’re napping. Doesn’t matter what the reason is; if it’s not that important, then it can wait. You had finished the bottle of painkillers and went to Dr. Markson like he said; he evaluated you, and didn’t give you anymore prescriptions. He just told you to come to him if the pain starts acting up again and he’ll have another look. Thankfully, you didn’t have to do that.

You still went outside for some air and to enjoy nature, but it just wasn’t the same at times. Laying in the grass for a few hours is truly uplifting, but you missed being out in the city, in the field. You kept nagging Steve to let you in on things going on, and sometimes he’d give you something because he felt bad about you being stuck inside for so long. But other times, he didn’t give you anything just to spite you. All in good nature, though. He wouldn’t deliberately make you mad.

You can eat solid foods again, you can walk on your own, and Dr. Markson removed the stitches. The scar turned out alright, not too pretty-looking but you don’t care. You couldn’t be happier. You also decided to wear your battle gloves all the time because one, they look great, and two, you never know what could happen. A fire could start anywhere in the compound, and you didn’t know when you’d be bored enough to prank everyone you see. You tried that on Vision, but he didn’t even flinch. He just told you to be careful where you point your flames. He can be such a buzzkill sometimes. But the one good thing (amongst others, but let’s be real) that came out of those agonizingly slow weeks, is the amount of time you spent with Bucky.

Day in and day out, you’d see Bucky sometime during your day. You could have hung out with him all day, and then he’d retreat back to his room to have time to himself. You didn’t mind at all. You knew he didn’t want everyone to see him in certain states, so he would hide in the safety of his room. But you always told him that you’re there to talk if he needed anyone. He would nod, go to his room, and not speak to anyone. It saddened you a little that he didn’t trust you enough to talk about his issues, but you had to see where he was coming from. Talking about horrors like that wouldn’t be the easiest thing in the world. But you’re willing to wait.

However, he was still a joy to be around. Watching more movies, working out, hell, even swimming and playing billiard. He also saved your ass a few times when you tried to walk down the stairs while still using your crutches. You would laugh about it as Bucky would pull you back, but you swore you never seen him look so concerned before. You kept using the elevator after that to spare his poor heart.

You also noticed that the more time you spent with him, the closer you got. Literally. Sitting on the couch? You’d be touching knees and almost have your arms pressed together. Eating breakfast? He’d take a seat right next to you without question. Passing each other in the hall? He’d almost intentionally brush arms with you just because he wanted to. Some food on your face or fluff on your clothes? He’d go out of his way to wipe it away himself. And even though you noticed him doing things like this, you never thought anything of it. Sure, you knew what those types of signs meant, but you shrugged them off. No use thinking about it if he’s just getting more comfortable around you. You couldn’t be happier that he’s finally settling in and talking more.

You also took it to yourself to speak with Maeve more often. You knew her school schedule, so you knew when it’d be a good time to call her. It kinda sucked being a summer student, but Maeve handles it pretty well. And unless you had other things to do (which wasn’t much), you stuck to that schedule with frequent updates on your well-being, and what’s been happening with everyone. Not too much information, though; you’re always afraid of being intercepted. That’d be one worst-case-scenario. Another would be an attack on the compound. But so far, no one’s been stupid enough to try and do it.

And when you weren’t in the mood to interact with anyone, you would edit Bucky’s photos. You completely forgot about them until you were sifting through your laptop one boring day. There wasn’t much to do to them besides a basic edit because there was nothing wrong with them. Bucky looked amazing, so adding a little punch would just make them a little more outstanding. You spent quite a lot of time on them, since you couldn’t stop staring at them. After you edited them all, you went back and did different edits to see how they’d look. A full black and white photo edit except for his eyes. You pumped up the blue of his eyes a little bit so they stood out a lot more. You did the same edit to a few others before changing the colour scheme completely as another edit. Andy Warhol, Lichtenstein, stained glass, a painting, typography, a double exposure using one of your own nature photos… you did it all. And they all looked great, in your opinion. You weren’t going to show him, though. That was just a little something to indulge yourself and give yourself an excuse to stare at his face for a few hours.

Above all else, you’re glad as hell that you can walk again without having stinging pain shoot up your leg. Dr. Laine would have you walk on a treadmill, then amp up the speed to see how well you had taken care of yourself. She was very pleased by the results. You were able to run at full speed without your thigh ripping open. You were so thrilled about it that you took it upon yourself to keep using the treadmill, even after the session was over. You weren’t sure how much muscle mass you’d lost during your time as a cripple, but it wasn’t as much as you’d originally thought.

The first thing you did after leaving Dr. Laine’s office was dance. Specifically, Red Velvet’s “Dumb Dumb”. You had missed out performing it with Bucky, Sam, and Steve, so you didn’t get the chance to enjoy doing it with them. But that didn’t stop you. You happily danced by yourself to the song without a care in the world. You were just ecstatic to be on your feet again.

One thing you forget to do a lot of the time is to write in your journals. The day after July 4th, which was Steve’s birthday, you dug out your Day Journal from the crevices of your bed and wrote in it. There was a lot to cover, like Tony giving you your suit, training with a gun, and your first solo mission. Word vomit came out when you started writing. You swore you had ten pages filled when you were finished. But then you started writing about planning for Steve’s birthday. Proceed more word vomit. Some words ended up scribbled down because you were so excited about writing it out. Steve’s reaction was the best. He didn’t see it coming because he didn’t really plan on celebrating his birthday. But when he saw the cake that you, Wanda, and Sam made for him and all the little gifts and decorations, he couldn’t stop smiling. He has such in infectious smile, and it makes you swell with pride that you helped plan this day for him. He’s just a sweet, old man.

Now, the Avenger’s Journal hasn’t been touched in a while. The most you write in it is the emotional stability of some of the team members of any given day. You’ve come to the conclusion that they all have PTSD. You looked up the symptoms to make sure that you weren’t just making assumptions. You know that Steve and Bucky had been in World War Two, so they were easy to cross off the list. Sam told you about he saw his partner, Riley, get shot right out of the sky in front of him. Another checked off the list. Wanda lived in a poor part of Sokovia, and protested against the Avenger’s, especially Tony because his weapons killed her parents. Cue another traumatized team member. Natasha with the Red Room, and Tony in Afghanistan. They, along with Steve, had also participated in the Battle of New York and against Ultron. The rest of the Avengers aside, you made sure to never unintentionally trigger something from their past. You once saw Tony experience a panic attack by accident. He didn’t see you, and you didn’t bring it up to him either. You’re sympathetic enough to know what it feels like to go through something like that. And that you wouldn’t want to talk about it afterwards either. So you kept that to yourself.

There were many things written about Bucky. Maybe too much. It’s not like anyone’s going to find it (you’d made sure of that), so it’s okay. It’s only for yourself, so you’re going to write as much as you want. There were things written about his mental stability and behavioural habits. You’re not an expert in reading behaviour, but watching enough Criminal Minds has given you somewhat of an idea. His first days at the compound, a week later, a few more, and time spent with you. That was your favourite part to write. It’s been impeccable spending time with him, and you made sure to let your pages know it.

Probably the most important thing you did during your downtime was to develop your pyrokinesis. You did your damnedest to produce fire on your own without having a source. You’ve had your powers for seven months now; you’d think you’d be able to make a single flame with ease. But it’s a lot more complicated when you have to learn it compared to being born with it. It’s more difficult than one would think. Meditating is the easiest way to focus, and you did it just as you always had. Just like a candle flame, you visualized the fire forming in your palm, and pushed your energy forward to generate a flame. You had noticed a greater amount of control in yourself, because after hours of relentless concentration, you managed to forge a fireball in your hand. It blew up in your face though because you were too excited. After that, you kept training yourself, and soon, you managed to produce flames sliding up your forearms. The initial heat wasn’t too bad; you barely felt it. But you’re sure that once you’ve used your suit, you won’t be able to feel a thing.

But now, after all was said and done, you just want to go outside. More specifically, into the city.

You have it all planned out, in a very detailed and eloquent strategy: beg Steve. Now normally, you’d just go into the city by yourself and let someone know so they don’t go looking for you when they don’t know where you are. But this time will be different, because you want to bring Bucky with you. As long as Bucky conceals his metal arm and acts like a normal person, everything should be fine. Besides, how many people in Los Angeles know about the Winter Soldier and what he looks like?

You’re already dressed appropriately for the weather for August 5th: some jean short overalls with fishnets underneath, an old Nirvana shirt, some runners, and your gloves. You have your hair in a ponytail paired with a baseball cap with a smiley face on it. You’re all set to go, and humbly approach Steve in the kitchen. He’s just finished another workout and is having some juice. He seems to be in a good mood, but you still take this slowly.

“Hey, Steve,” you say cheerfully.

“Hey, _______,” he smiles, pouring some orange juice in a glass. “What’s up?”

“Nothin’,” you reply, spreading your hands on the counter. “Just gonna go into the city for a bit. Is that okay?”

He takes a sip, staring you down, and thinks about it for a minute. Your mission was forever ago, your leg is healed, and he was honestly getting tired of seeing you sit on the couch all day. What’s the harm?

“Yeah,” he says, licking his lips. “As long as you come back in one piece.”

“Great!” you say happily. “There’s just one thing, though…”

“What’s that?” he asks, raising a brow.

You bite your lip, wondering how he’s going to react. You already asked Bucky if he wanted to go with you, and he obliged after much consideration. So if Steve says no, you’ll have to convince him otherwise.

“Bucky’s coming too,” you say quietly.

“_______,” Steve starts, his voice a slight tone of disapproval. “I don’t–“

“Just hear me out, okay?” you start, already know that he won’t allow it. “Bucky’s been here for over two months now! Don’t you think he’s been stuck in here long enough?”

“I know, _______,” Steve starts again, shaking his head. “I know he has. But it’s not safe for him and–“

“He’d be safe with me,” you counter, staring him down. You’re not going to let up on this. “I won’t let anyone touch him. Plus, I don’t think you’d want him to have cabin fever. You ever seen The Shining? A prime example of going crazy and butchering your family. Do you want that, Steve? He can’t be shielded forever. Yes, I know anything can happen, but I won’t let it happen. Don’t you trust me?”

There it is. The trust card.

Steve sighs, and trails his eyes across the counter. Of course he does. Of course he trusts you. He trusts Bucky enough, since he’s gone without an incident at the compound (other than that small altercation with Sam). Plus, Bucky lived in Romania for a while without being found. Clearly he can handle himself. Steve’s just always worried about the people still looking for him, and what would happen if they did find him. The right people know what he looks like, so after some face recognition software, they’d come after him as soon as possible. But under any circumstances, he knows that you are not going to let anyone touch him. You’ve been a great addition to the team, and you’ve created an outstanding friendship with him.

“Fine, fine,” he sighs in defeat. “He can go with you.” You’re about to thank him, but he cuts you short as he continues on in a serious tone. “But I’m serious, _______. You have to be careful. If anyone recognizes him, it could be catastrophic for all of us.”

“Steve,” you say, as serious as he is. “Trust me when I say that I’d kill for him. And I’m not about to let his good-behaviour streak be broken. I’ll keep him safe, but he can also take care of himself. It’ll just be a quick trip. I already know where we’re going. Just there and back. I promise.”

“I believe you,” he says, giving you a small smile. “But still. Be careful. If anything happens–“

“Which it won’t!”

“–call us and let us know.”

“I will.”

“Good. Where is he anyway?”

“He should beee–oh. Right here.”

Bucky comes around the corner, ready to head into the city. You and Steve give him a once-over, then look at each other, then back to Bucky. You both shake your heads.

“Bucky,” you start, face in your hand, “I said dress appropriately.”

“What’s wrong with this?” he asks, looking down at his attire. He’s wearing three layers of shirts, plus a jacket, black boots, and a dark baseball cup. You cannot describe how wrong this is.

“You look like a hitman!” you exclaim, covering your mouth to hide your smile. Bucky sighs and shrugs.

“Well what the hell do you want me to do?” he asks, putting forth some faux aggression.

“Bucky, you look like you’re trying to hide,” you explain, taking a few steps towards him.

“Because I am,” he fights back.

“Yeah, I know but.” You sigh, trying to get the words right. “You need to hide in plain sight. Look like a normal person and not a vicious attacker.”

“And you do you propose I do that?” he asks pointedly.

“Lose the layers,” you say immediately. “Don’t make yourself look bigger than you actually are. Not that it’s a problem, but you don’t wanna look too intimidating. Like if I saw you walking towards me on the street, I’d turn the other way. Bolt right in the other direction. You get what I’m saying? You gotta look like a friendly.”

“I am a friendly!” he shouts. You burst out laughing at his reaction, because he’s actually mad about it. You wave him off when he gives you an annoyed look.

“Don’t worry. I got you covered. Come with me.”

You lead him back to his room, leaving Steve alone with his thoughts in the kitchen, a giant smile on his face.

By the time you’re done dressing Bucky, he’s only slightly annoyed.

Instead of three layers of shirts, he got one plain red shirt paired with a light, black jacket to hide his arm. You let him keep his glove, for obvious reasons. You let him keep his jeans as well, but make him wear low rise shoes instead of his boots. After the clothes came his face. Everything was perfect of course, but there were still small things that needed fixing. You told him to shave, which he did after some persuasion. He got hotter by one hundred and ten percent after that, but then the problem was his hair. You weren’t going to tell him to cut it, but when you told him to tie it up, he was a little confused as to why. He did it anyway, and you could not believe how good he looked. You were almost offended that he was able to do that. You tried a pair of glasses on him to see how it’d look, but opted for sunglasses instead. It hides his eyes, and it’s sunny outside, so he’ll blend right in.

And he does.

He only sulked about looking so ridiculous for a few minutes of the car ride. Once you got into downtown L.A., he visibly relaxed. Being around so many people still puts him on edge a bit, but he’s fine as long as you’re with him.

“Where are we going?” he asks as you pull into a parking garage.

“The Grand Central Market,” you reply, paying the fare and pulling into a spot. “I wanted to walk around for a bit too. I hope that’s okay.”

“’S no problem,” he says. You didn’t really tell him in the first place, but whatever you had planned, he wouldn’t mind at all. He gets to spend more time with you, and that’s all that matters. It’s a major plus that he gets to go in the city as well, because he was getting sick of seeing the same walls for weeks on end. You put on your own sunglasses, grab your purse, and head out to the streets of downtown Los Angeles.

It’s a relatively short walk to the market, filled with a comfortable silence. You have conversations already running through your mind for when you get to the market. It’s a literal breath of fresh air to be outside in the city, and it feels even fresher with Bucky with you. Besides the literal meaning of growing closer together, you two really have gotten to know one another. Or rather, he’s gotten to know you. You didn’t mind that he didn’t have much to tell you because it was taken away, but you can’t help but wonder what things he would tell you, good or bad.

Once you step inside the market, it’s immediately chilly. It’s a relief from the heat of the sun, so you don’t mind that much. Bucky doesn’t express his disdain, if he has any. You had looked up the place before because you were in a market-y mood. The whole calm and cheery atmosphere of markets puts you at ease. You wanted to desperately get Bucky out of the compound, and what better place than a peaceful establishment with cuisines from around the world?

You keep an eye on him as you head to the organics section. You make sure he’s following you, since losing him in the crowd would be one worst-case scenario. And since he doesn’t have a phone, you wouldn’t be able to text nor call him to ask where he went. Him wandering off is also a possibility, but you hope he has enough sense to stick by your side for the entire trip. You look down at all the fruits and vegetables, grabbing a plastic bag. You check the apples for bruises before bagging them. As you keep picking out food, you side-eye Bucky. He’s just staring at all the food, and occasionally looking over his shoulder. You smile sadly.

“You can get food too, y’know,” you say. He turns back and looks at you. “If you want something, you can get it.” He nods, then grabs a plastic bag of his own and starts looking at the plums. Your smile grows and you keep picking fruits from the bins. When you have too many bags to carry, you grab a basket and plop them inside. You look up and see Bucky wandering around the section, picking out some oranges. You walk over to him and playfully bump his side.

“Find any good ones?” you ask, looking down at them. You pick one up and turn it around. “These are huge. Holy.”

Bucky doesn’t answer for a second because he’s so mesmerized by your side profile. Even though only half of your face is visible to him, he can’t help but stare. Stare at the way your eyes crinkle when you smile, the curve of your lips, the stray hairs sticking out of your ponytail. He smiles at you, not really registering that you’re asking him a question.

“What?” you ask, smiling. “Do I got something on my face?”

“No,” he replies, shaking his head as he smiles more. You give him a face, narrowing your eyes and look skeptical, but let it go for now.

“You can put your plums in here if you want,” you say, pulling the basket forward. “And your mutant oranges.”

He nods then plops them inside. You grin widely at him and keep looking. You pick up a band of bananas and put them in the basket too. You consider getting a watermelon, but shake your head and grab some cucumber instead. Saying “fuck it”, you also get some cauliflower, broccoli, onions, and bell peppers. You never know when you’d need them. You add some pineapple, grapes, and mozzarella cheese. Bucky sneakily slides in a bag of sunflower seeds and peanuts while you’re hyper-focused on the produce. He acts like he didn’t do anything when you look down and see them in the basket. You look at him, but he just smiles and shrugs his shoulders. You grin and lick your lips.

He’s so beautiful when he smiles.

“That’s another way to blend in,” you say nonchalantly. “Smiling.”

Bucky’s face falls for a second before he’s beaming again. You notice and laugh at how hard he’s trying.

“See! There ya go! You look really nice when you smile.”

Your heart beats a thousand times a minute when you look in the basket, pretending to count all the things you have to make sure you didn’t miss anything. Meanwhile, Bucky’s staring at your outfit. He knew the women of this century dressed the complete opposite of the women in the ‘40s. He was surprised to see them dress less conservative and more… expressively. He could say he was almost shell-shocked to see you in fishnets with short overalls. He hadn’t seen a look like that before, and you look amazing in it.

“Okay, I think I got enough produce,” you say, moving the items around. “You need anything else from over here?”

“No,” he says quietly, still perplexed by your outfit.

“Okay then,” you continue, not even noticing him staring. “I’ll pay for these, and then we can walk through the market some more.”

“Sure.”

Once all your food is paid for and bagged, you and Bucky quietly walk through the market, seeing what they have to offer. Everything smells great, and you want to eat everything you see. There’s Chinese food, Japanese food, coffee stands, something called Eggslut, a pasta bar, sticky rice, fine ice cream. You couldn’t be in a better place to hang out with Bucky.

“When was the last time you’ve been to a market?” you ask, passing by a bread stand.

“Romania,” he answers quietly, skimming through some croissants.

“Ahhh,” you hum, looking at all the baguettes. “So it’s been a while, huh? I know this is a stupid question, but how does it feel to be back at a market?”

“That’s not a stupid question,” he smiles, picking up a loaf. He turns it around a bit before putting it back down and keeps walking with you. “It feels nice, actually. Being around so many people puts me on edge, but only because it’s been a while since I’ve been outside. But I can manage.”

“Yeahhh,” you say, scratching the back of your neck. “I was worried for you about that. But I really wanted you to get out of there because I was losing my mind, and I’m sure you were going insane too.”

“Thanks,” he says, grateful that you thought of his well-being. “As long as I’m with you, I’ll be fine.”

Well fuck me up why don’t you?

You look towards the floor and smack your lips together to keep your smile under control. He’s so incredibly sweet, and the only plausible response you have when he says stuff like that is to smile. You don’t have a better response than that to give, so you keep walking, passing all types of vendors. Looking at your basket, you get an idea.

Of course!

You peer your eyes all over the place, looking for any meat vendors. You turn back around, lighting tugging Bucky’s arm to get him to follow. You swore you thought you saw–and smelled–meat when you were getting produce. You come across one called “Roast to Go”, straight down from where the fruits and vegetables were. You skim the items quickly, and order five ounces of pepperoni and sausage. Bucky looks at you curiously as you pay for them.

“It’s make-your-own pizza night,” you tell him, smiling proudly. “That means we just need dough and tomato sauce!”

You tug him along again, excited about making your own pizza. Bucky happily lets you take him wherever you want; he’s content with following you around. It was your idea to go out, and also to bring him along, so he’s going to play by your rules. He trusts you to keep the two of you safe.

You find the dough and tomato sauce at one of the pizza vendors, called “Olio GCM Wood Fired Pizzeria”. You thank the man and put it in with the bag of produce. It’s getting heavy on your arm, so you fix your grip on the handles and keep walking along. Bucky notices you’re struggling a bit, then taps your arm.

“Want me to carry it?” he offers. At first you think no, you can handle it, but then again, Bucky is more than capable. It’s getting annoying trying to keep your purse on your shoulder anyway, so you hand the bag to him.

“Thanks,” you say, rubbing your fingers. “It was really digging into my skin.”

“No problem.”

Your stomach feels uncomfortably empty as you walk around the market. It smelt good the instant you walked in there, and after buying all this food, why not actually get something to eat? That wasn’t really your intention, but what the hell? Bucky’s probably hungry too. You look at him expectantly.

“Want some ice cream?”

It might not be what he wants, but you’re a sweating mess underneath your clothes, and need some serious relief. Bucky smiles widely and nods.

“Sure.”

Scanning a nearby map, you find yourselves at “McConnell’s Fine Ice Cream”. You look down at the glass encasings of the tubs of ice cream they have. You shoot a friendly smile to the woman behind the counter before looking back down.

“Welcome to McConnell’s,” she smiles, smoothing down her apron. “What can I get ya today?”

“Ummm, I’ll probably need another minute,” you say sheepishly.

“No problem!” she says. “Just lemme know.”

You nod, then keep scanning the flavours. Everything looks so good, and you’re starving for something satisfying. Bucky crouches down a bit to look with you, licking his lips in anticipation. He reads all the flavours, and is conflicted between three. You raise an eyebrow at one.

“Whiskey and pecan pralines?” you say to yourself. “Well, maybe a day when I’m not driving. Sooo not today. Hmmm…”

Bucky gives you another side-eye, but does so discreetly. He peeks at you with the safety of his sunglasses shielding his vision. He stares at your lips, the corner of his mouth twitching into a small smile. He just wants to know; know if they’re as soft as they look. He realized a while ago that you pick at your lips when you’re stressed, but you take care of them as best you can. Today is one of your good days. He can see where the small patch of dead skin used to be on your upper lip. He also knows that you tend to keep your hands away from them when you’re in public, and he can tell. Every time your hand goes to your lips, you pretend you’re wiping something away, resisting the urge to start ripping off the skin. He wishes you wouldn’t do it, but not everyone can control their ticks. He would know.

He finds himself leaning closer to you, turning his head to look at you more. He sees your eyes still scanning the ice cream tubs from behind your sunglasses, deciding what to get. You start tapping the end of your chin, and frown slightly when you get frustrated. There’s just too many flavours to choose from. Sighing, you quickly do a round of eenie-meenie. Bucky doesn’t notice your inner monologue, but he does notice how close he is to you now. He says “fuck it” and just goes for it. Just as he closes the distance, you shoot straight up.

“Can we mix flavours together?” you ask the lady. Bucky’s eye twitches in annoyance, but gets over it and stands up as well.

“Of course!” she says. “You can mix any two or three flavours together.”

“Nice,” you say. “Makes this much easier. Then I’ll get a medium sized bowl of double peanut butter chip, cookies and cream, and banana and salted caramel. Know what you want, Bucky?”

He seems pissed off when you look at him, and you’re about to ask why when he gives the vendor his order.

“A small bowl of chocolate almond brittle,” he says quietly. You tilt your head in curiosity.

“You alright?” you ask. “Is the heat getting to you?” He knows he can’t tell you the truth without receiving an awkward silence afterwards. He looks towards the cement floor, before mentally slapping himself and smiling back at you.

“A bit,” he lies, clenching his left hand.

“Well you’ll feel better after this,” you smile. “Ice cream always gives me shivers.”

“Well it’s no wonder he’s havin’ a heat stroke,” the woman behind the counter decides to add. You both turn your heads towards her. She gestures to his attire. “Your poor boyfriend’s got too many layers on. In this California heat? You’re crazy t’ be dressin’ like that, young man. One of my son’s friends had heat stroke from not dressin’ for the weather. Don’t make the same mistake as him.”

Your eyes widened the moment she said “boyfriend”. You let your surprise slip away as she continued on, though. You take pleasure in the fact that yes, people will in fact address Bucky as your boyfriend. It may be the only time it will happen, so you’ll take advantage of every opportunity.

“That won’t be necessary,” you smile sweetly, handing her the cash to pay for both your ice creams. “He’s like a human popsicle. Cold to the touch. I don’t know how he does it.”

“Really?” she says, jealous. “You keep your arm tight around that one, honey. That’s about all the relief you’re goin’ t’ get in this state.”

“Don’t worry,” you tell her, slipping your arm around Bucky’s. “I will be. Thank you!”

You happily skip away from the vendor, and scope out the market for a place to sit. You completely ignore Bucky if he’s giving you any incredulous looks. And he is. He cannot believe you just went along with what the lady said. Boyfriend? The term seems so foreign to him now. He hasn’t dated in decades, and most of his suaveness got buried six-feet-under when he fell from the train. Is he actually your boyfriend now?

No. No, of course not. That was just a normal reaction to–no. She would’ve corrected her. So why didn’t she?

He lets himself be dragged along to a small seating area, and sits across from you. You set your purse on the ground beside your chair and cross your ankles, your mouth watering at your bowl of ice cream.

“Finally,” you sigh, picking up your spoon. “I’m famished.”

You moan in delight at the taste, and even more so at the goosebumps rising on your arms. You excitedly mix the flavours together, and knit your brows together when you look up at Bucky. He’s not eating; he’s just staring at you.

“What’s wrong?” you ask. “Are you not hungry?”

“Why did you do that?” he asks, getting straight to the point. He has an idea, but he wants to be sure.

“What, back at the ice cream vendor?” you ask, pointing your spoon behind you. He nods. You keep mixing your ice cream together as you answer him. “Natasha said I have to adapt to any situation. Improvise sometimes, and improvising is all about saying ‘yes’. I didn’t correct her to move the conversation along and to avoid providing an explanation if I did correct her. Wastes less time, too.”

Bucky purses his lips, then looks down at his ice cream. Makes perfect sense. A quick way to keep people from asking questions. And if he has to pretend to be your boyfriend to avoid unfriendly encounters, he’ll gladly take up the role. He smiles at the thought, and digs into his ice cream. He hasn’t had it in so long, it’s like he’s trying it for the first time. The flavour certainly is different. Salty chocolate. It’s something else. He likes the taste, though. He licks his lips every time he takes a bite. You definitely notice. You flit your eyes down at your own ice cream, then to his face. You grab your bowl and hold it out for him.

“Wanna try some?” you ask. He swallows and looks at the swirled brown puddle sitting in your bowl.

“You sure?” he asks. “Mine will get mixed with yours.”

“Don’t mind,” you wave him off. “I’ll eat almost any type of ice cream. It’s fine.”

He reaches forward and scoops some out of your bowl, then tastes it. His eyes widen for a second, and you’re scared he doesn’t like it.

“How is it?” you ask tentatively.

“It’s… delicious,” he says, only slightly surprised. “What’d you say you got?”

“Double peanut butter chip, cookies and cream, and banana and salted caramel,” you smile, scooping out some of Bucky’s bowl. You smirk at him as you taste it. Very salty.

“Hey,” he laughs, taking another scoop from your bowl.

“Hey!” you protest. “That’s not fair!”

You go back and forth like this, stealing each other’s ice cream, dripping little dots of it on the wooden table. At one point you just slap your spoon on his mouth, leaving him to lick it up. You laugh at his reaction to avoid having him ask why your cheeks are red.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” he says, wiping away the bits his tongue can’t reach.

“You started it!” you counter.

“I don’t think so,” he says, still wiping his mouth. “You took mine without asking, so I counteracted.”

“By taking some more without asking, I might add,” you say. “You’re only digging yourself a deeper hole, Bucky. You know you started it.”

“I didn’t ask to have ice cream slapped on my face,” he defends, getting the last of it off his face.

“What can I say?” you shrug. “You deserved it.”

He narrows his eyes at you, though you can’t even see them. You just give him another sweet smile and continue to eat your ice cream. He does the same as well, but since he’s feeling slightly petty, he slathers his own ice cream on your mouth, and some on your cheek. You gasp at his action, and lean forward to keep it from dropping on your clothes.

“Bucky!” you shout, dropping your spoon and hovering your hands above the table. “You little shit! I can’t even–I don’t even have any napkins!”

You start licking around your mouth, getting all that you can before giving up. You take off your glove and wipe your hand down your cheek, and groan as you start licking your fingers. You shake your head in disbelief as you keep doing it.

“You suck,” you laugh. “Now I have sticky fingers! This one is definitely on you. Don’t even try to put the blame on me!”

You wipe the stickiness on your overalls and slide your glove back on. You cross your arms on the table and pout at him. There it is again. He can’t stop staring at your lips. It’s the only part of your face he can see clearly, but since you can’t see where he’s looking, he doesn’t give a shit. He won’t get caught for staring. But he will for this.

“You got a little something on your cheek there,” he teases.

“Hahaha,” you laugh without humour. “I know there is. I got it already.”

“No, for real,” he says. “There’s still some on your cheek.”

“Then you get rid of it then,” you challenge, leaning forward. Without hesitating, Bucky swipes his thumb over the ice cream on your cheek, then licks it off.

“Thank you, you dumb shit,” you scoff, smiling a bit.

“You’re welcome, doll,” he smiles, sitting back in his seat. You shake your head at him, still in disbelief that this man is real.

“Unbelievable,” you say under your breath. You finish your ice cream in silence, but keep smiling at him. You swear, you could never be mad at him for any reason. He’s very cautious, reliable, and guarded. But at the same time, he’s easy-going, funny, and knows how to take care of himself. You trust him immensely, but you still need to take care of him at times, even if he doesn’t want it.

“Hey,” you say quietly, pushing your bowl away. You look over his shoulder, then behind you, making sure no one can hear. You lean forward, and motion him to do the same.

“If anything should happen, stick close to me,” you whisper seriously. “Don’t do anything and keep walking. Blend in with the crowd. However, if something happens that I can handle alone, do not go near me. I don’t want anyone to recognize you. Go to the parking garage or somewhere farther away from the scene. But do not help me, understand?”

He didn’t expect to hear you say something like that. It was always in the back of his mind when he was at the compound, but even more so now that he’s in public. He has to be more cautious than he ever was. He doesn’t want to cause you any trouble, nor break his good boy streak. He nods in understanding.

“If that’s what you want, then yes,” he agrees.

“I’m sorry to spring this on you,” you say. “I just never really covered anything about it with you before. I don’t know if anyone has. So just a little FYI for ya. I don’t mean to, like. Keep you away from the action or whatever. I just wanna keep you safe. It’s one of my many priorities, and I promised Steve that I would do it.”

“It’s okay,” he assures you. “It’s fine. I don’t want to get caught either. If it comes to then, then I’ll run.”

“Walk,” you correct him.

“Huh?”

“First rule of going on the run is don’t run, walk.”

“Got it.”

Now that you’ve gotten that out of the way, you lean back in your seat and take in the atmosphere of the market. You can hear people speaking in their native languages, see friends surprisingly running into each other, and customers paying for their food. You couldn’t ask for a better setting. Everything is popping with colour, the aromas from each vendor finds its way to your nose, and you’re sitting across from one of the most amazing men you’ve ever met. To top it all off, you’re friends with some of the most powerful men and women in the world. You’re extremely lucky to have this opportunity.

“You finished?” Bucky asks, pulling you from your thoughts. You look at him confused, and he nods towards your empty ice cream bowl.

“Oh, yeah.” You push it towards him and he goes to throw them away. When he stands up, you see a man staring at you from across the room. You pretend you’re looking elsewhere, but keep your eyes trained on him from behind your sunglasses. He seems… perplexed. He’s dressed like a regular civilian, so he seems like a friendly. He’s just sitting on a bar stool at a Salvadorian vendor eating his food, but he keeps glancing in your direction. He could be looking behind you, but you know when someone is looking at you directly. Nevertheless, you keep your guard up, even when Bucky comes back and sits down. Thinking quickly, you gather your purse from the ground and slide it over your shoulder.

“Hey, wanna go for a walk around the city?” you ask. When he doesn’t answer right away, you slightly nod to the side. He gets it then.

“Sure thing.”

He stands up again, and you hold onto his left arm as you start walking out of the place. You take one look behind you, and see that the man has left his seat. You don’t know where he went. You clear your throat and keep walking forward.

“How many?” Bucky asks lowly.

“One,” you say, as you step into the sunlight. “Don’t know how many others.”

You take a left on Hill Street, making your way to the crosswalk. You look behind you again, but there’s too many heads and faces to make out each one. If the man wants to talk, you’re sure you can handle that. But if he threatens you, then you’ll have to do something about it. And keep Bucky away from the public eye. You’re almost at the crosswalk when a man starts shouting from behind you.

“Excuse me! Excuse me, miss!”

There’s a bunch of women walking alongside you. He could be shouting for anyone.

“You in the overalls and fishnets!”

Shit.

“Dammit,” you whisper to yourself. “Stay calm, Bucky. I got this.” You stop walking, keeping your grip on Bucky’s arm as you turn around and smile at the man from the market.

“Hello,” you start calmly. “Something I can help you with?”

“I was just wondering,” the man starts, catching his breath, “if you were the fire woman.”

You play pretend, and tilt your head, feigning confusion.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, smiling politely. “Who is this fire woman?”

“You haven’t seen?” he says, standing up straighter. He puts his hands on his hips, and Bucky tugs you closer to him. You put your free hand on his stomach, easing him to relax. “She’s the girl that put out an apartment fire up north! There was a video where she’s seen–”

You see several people peer over at you three the more this man talks. You don’t need any unnecessary attention drawn towards you and Bucky, so you stop his rambling early but putting your hand up.

“I’m sorry,” you interrupt. “But my boyfriend and I really need to get going. I don’t want to leave a bad impression on his parents for being late. And I am not the fire lady you mentioned. Sorry.”

“Oh, my apologies!” he says, letting you go. When you and Bucky start walking away, the man has one more question and shouts it after you. “What happened to your leg?”

You had forgotten that stitches leave behind scars. And even though this one isn’t as bad, it’s still pretty big and noticeable. You shrug indifferently.

“Accident!” you yell over your shoulder. You take the chance to speed-walk Bucky through the blinking red hand on the traffic light to avoid the man any further. You immediately cross the road and take 5th Street West. You look behind you again, and this time, you don’t see the man following you. You sigh a breath of relief and turn to Bucky.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” you laugh lightly. “I just didn’t want to be pressed about it and have other people listening in. Hope I didn’t tug you too harshly.”

“You call that ‘harsh tugging’?” he teases. “An old lady could’ve done better.”

“Well!” you defend, not really having anything to say. “I got you across the street, didn’t I? No complaining!”

He just laughs, keeping his grip on you. He doesn’t know if you mind that he’s still holding on to you, just like you are to him. Since you haven’t let go, he deems it reasonable to keep his arm linked with yours. It feels nice anyway, and reminds him of the good old days of having dames around his arms.

You two walk along, arms linked, making idle chatter, some teasing here and there. As you smile and laugh with him, you’re wishing that it could be like this everyday for him: having fun with his friends with a smile on his face, being carefree, and being satisfied with his life. You wish that Bucky could go out in public without fearing for his life, and the safety of everyone around him. You wish that you could take everything away, reverse everything that HYDRA programmed him to do. You wish that he could just be himself again. That Bucky is still there, but he’s been twisted in the vilest way and it makes you want to vomit. You told Steve that you’d kill for him. You weren’t lying. You wouldn’t hesitate slicing a few throats or burn people to death for him. And of course you’d take a bullet for him. Then again, if you have time to jump in and get shot, then he has time to move. Logic aside, it doesn’t matter the situation. You’re going to protect him with your life.

You pass by a lot of tall buildings, most of them apartment complexes or hotels. You come to a major intersection at 5th and Grand Avenue, and you find yourself looking up again. There’s a very tall white building beside a bank. The sun reflects off the glass, and you hover your hand over your eyes.

“Wow,” you say to yourself. When you cross the street, you see the letters “OUE” printed on the outside of the building. “OUE, OUE… Oh! Isn’t this that, um. Skyline thing or whatever? Skyplane? Skyspace!” Bucky just raises a brow and shrugs. He doesn’t know anything that goes on. “Come on! We should go in!” You bravely take his hand and pull him through the glass doors. You pay the daily fare, then make your way all the way up to the sixty-ninth floor with six other people.

You’re in awe when you step in the room. It’s huge, with windows lining the exterior. There’s benches and lounge chairs placed at each window, the rest of the room scarce. Just plain white walls and exposed ceiling, giving it an industrial feel. You let go of Bucky’s hand and walk towards one of the windows, and place your hand on the glass, looking over the city.

“This is beautiful, holy.”

Bucky comes up beside you, and sets the market bag down on the floor. He smiles as he looks at the city of L.A. with you. He knows this is the perfect opportunity to give you a cheesy compliment, like “the view isn’t as beautiful as you”, but he won’t do it. Despite this entire setting being completely convenient for him, he doesn’t want to spoil this experience for you. He knows that it might thrill you if he did say something along those lines, with your feelings towards him and all. But he doesn’t want to toy with you because he’s afraid to say it out-loud. But some time in the near future, he’ll have the courage to say it. For now, he’s reveling in the moment.

“I should’ve brought my camera,” you say, looking towards the horizon. “This would’ve made a great panoramic photo. Tch.”

Bucky smiles some more, and shoves his hands in his pockets. He peers at you from the corner of his eye, and has the strongest urge to just say something already. A compliment, a teasing gesture, some sort of skinship contact. So far, the most he’s done is link arms and hold your hand, all of which you initiated. It spares him the embarrassment of doing it himself, but he gets to enjoy it all the same.

After another minute, you drag him out to the observation deck, and you gasp at how much more beautiful it is. The sun hits your skin, and the wind whips your ponytail. You press your hands against the glass and look down below, your stomach dropping at the sight.

“Holy shit this is really high up,” you say, looking at the ant-sized civilians.

“Really?” Bucky says, coming up beside you. “Looking at the ground makes you realize how high up we are?”

“Pshh, shut up,” you smile, shoving his arm. “It’s a lot different looking down rather than up.”

You dig around in your purse and pull out your phone, then snap a few pictures before taking a panorama. It’d be better quality with your dSLR, but you’ll have to make do. An iPhone isn’t too bad, but editing that kind of file isn’t the same as a RAW. Nevertheless, that doesn’t stop you from taking a hundred pictures. You stand back and get one with Bucky in it, his back to the camera, looking at the skyline. You manage to snag one just as he’s looking back at you. You smile at him when he rolls his head in disapproval.

“Come ooon,” you whine. “You look great! Look!” You show him the photo, but he still seems unimpressed. You roll your eyes. “I don’t care if you don’t like it. I’m keeping it.” You keep snapping pictures, adding filters, and being a little bit more artistic with the angles. Bucky watches on, letting you do your photography thing. You go back to the glass railing and turn around to take a skyline selfie. You look at the photo before calling Bucky over.

“C’mere!” you say, motioning for him. He does, and you turn him around as well, then hold your phone out as far as your arm will reach. “Smile!” He does so softly, then puts his arm around you for another one. Your arm shakes from trying to hold it, so you ask a woman passing by if she’d take a few. She accepts, and you end up with nine perfectly amazing photos of you and Bucky together. She returns your phone, skim through them quickly, then tuck it away back in your purse. This truly is the cherry-on-top to an amazing day. Nothing could ruin it.

Knock on wood.

You two go back inside, and walk around the viewing room some more. A few more people have arrived, but you two are in your own little world. Not much is said verbally, but physically? Definitely.

Either out of safety or interest, you don’t know, but Bucky is arm-to-arm with you as you walk around the viewing room again. You can feel the heat radiating from him because of the close proximity. It may be 30, but the A/C in the room is enough to give you a chill. Being beside Bucky makes you feel cozy. Your hands may be a little clammy from wearing your gloves, but it’s a small price to pay to be ready for anything.

You yawn widely, and Bucky takes that as the sign to start heading back to the car. You hang onto your purse strap and Bucky flexes his gloved fingers around the market bag as you two get into the elevator and begin your descent. As you reach the thirteenth floor, the elevator shakes, then stops. You put your hand over Bucky’s chest and back yourself into the metal wall, trying to still your breathing. You’ve never been in an elevator that suddenly stopped moving. It’s times like these when small spaces are a curse rather than a blessing.

“Okay, it’s okay,” you tell yourself. “It’s all good.” Bucky squints at the emergency light blinking, then looks at the speaker where the operator announces that an error occurred and that you’ll be out soon. You stand up straight and pull the bottom of your overalls down, and put the strap of your purse over your neck to keep it secure. You wait quietly with Bucky, and you can see sweat rolling down his face. Either he’s really hot, or really anxious. You can probably guess which one.

After ten minutes, you’ve calmed down, but you’re still a little jittery. Being stuck in an elevator isn’t the most thrilling thing in the world. Bucky seems fine, but he keeps clenching his jaw. He’s just as nervous as you. You want to calm him down, but you’re too occupied thinking about what the hell’s happening. Suddenly, the elevator jolts, and the doors open to the thirteenth floor. You step out first, but then the building shakes from three consecutive explosions going off. You look back at Bucky, pushing him back inside the elevator when he tries to step out.

“Remember what I said,” you tell him. “You get downstairs. Don’t do anything unless you absolutely have to.”

“But _______,” he starts, “I think I should–“

“Bucky, no,” you snap. “Get out of here. Now. I’ll handle this.”

You take your mask out of your purse and loop it around your ears. You shove your purse in the market bag and step out of the elevator.

“Go. I’ll be fine.”

He gives you a hard look behind his sunglasses. He bites his lip, thinking about disobeying you, but he knows that some of your trust for him will waver if he did. He nods firmly, then presses the button for the lobby.

“I’ll see you downstairs.”

You watch the doors close, and make sure the elevator is moving before making your way to the stairs. You have no idea why this perfect day had to be ruined, but you’re about to find out. You’re so pissed that you’re not going to take your time. Whoever did this, they’ll get no mercy.

There’s no one in the stairwell, but you can see smoke coming out from under the door leading to the eleventh floor. Having a gun would be very beneficial if the situation calls for it, but you’re hoping not. You’re not in the mood to be shot at again.

Once you open the door, thick, grey smoke engulfs your body. Your mask filters it out, but you’ve grown used to the choking smell to be able to repel it on your own. You tread through the smoke, trying to see through the thick haze. Wearing sunglasses inside isn’t always the best idea, but you want to make it harder for people to know who you are. Your hat helps to conceal yourself, but for now, you can’t see a damn thing. You take your glasses off and put them in the front pocket of your overalls, zipping it up securely. You flex the beak of your cap, and start when something shifts on your right. You crouch on the floor, then sneak your way over to the source of the sound. You startle when you see a man and woman laying against a wall. You rush over to them to check for injures.

“Are you okay?” you ask. “What happened here?”

Neither of them can answer. Their lungs are too full of smoke to give you a coherent answer. They cough, and you help them up, assisting them to the staircase. Once they’ve made it, you turn around and call out for anyone else. No one answers, but you survey the room one last time before going to the tenth floor. The structural integrity of the building is impeccable. You haven’t felt any tremours or unevenness in the floors. Yet, that’s the least of your worries. You’re not going back to the compound until you find the culprit behind this.

The room is scarce, except for four bulky pillars supporting the room. You concentrate for a second before fireballs produce in your palms to light the way. You take tip-toe steps, keeping your ears open for any sign of another presence. When you’re at the other end of the room, you turn around and start walking back. Your heart drops as the floor crumbles, and you go tumbling down to the tenth floor. You land hardly on your hip, but you manage to miss landing on a piece of debris. You yell out in pain, but it’s cut short when you look up and see a man in a stealth suit planting another bomb. You scramble off the floor and hide behind a pillar as he pulls out his gun and starts shooting. The ticking of the timer echoes off the walls, and you see it only has twenty seconds until it detonates. The man stops shooting as he escapes to the stairs, leaving you to the bomb.

You sprint over and pick it up, trying to figure out a way to dismantle it. You’re definitely no expert in this area, so the best you can do is keep explosion radius to a minimum by controlling the blast. You need to stop the man as fast as possible, and wasting precious time here is useless. But you can’t let another one go off. You plan to take all your energy and focus on controlling the impending heat and fire that will come with the explosion. However, you think of something completely different. With ten seconds left, you hold your right wrist and focus all of your energy into the side of your hand, heating it as fast as possible. Your heart is hot as in your chest as you wait until the lost possible second to slam your hand down and split the bomb in half. You can’t believe that nothing happens. No explosion, no burns, no nothing. You don’t have time to celebrate, because you don’t know if the man has any more bombs.

You fling the staircase door open and look down, over the railing. You can see the man still running down the stairs. You give it all you’ve got, skipping down steps and taking leaps to catch up to him. By the time you’ve reached the third floor, he’s already out the door to the lobby. You yell in frustration, and having another “fuck it” moment, you jump over the the railing from the second floor.

Light feet light feet light feet light fe–

You try to land on your toes like Steve to avoid crushing your ankle and for the shock absorption, but you end up rolling on your side. It doesn’t hurt much, but it’s better than having fractured heels. You get up, ignoring the pain in your side from falling through the floor, and sprint through the lobby and out the front doors. You’re covered in smoke and dirt, but you couldn’t care less about the looks people give you. The crowd is staring up at the Skyspace where pieces of the building are missing. You don’t have time to doddle around, and look left and right for the man. You see him running down 5th Street West, and go dashing after him. Then he takes a left down Flower Street South, ignoring the traffic signs and causing fender benders and T-bones as he runs across the street. You follow, eyes narrowed, and legs screaming. You push yourself to go faster. You cannot let him get away.

You see him take a sharp turn into City National Bank.

I do not fucking think so.

You manage to catch up to him, and yell after him when you reach the inside of the bank. He stops and turns around, opening up his jacket zipper, showing you, and everyone in the bank, the bombs strapped to his chest. Your eyes widen in fear, and your slowly raise your hands to get him to calm down.

“Okay, okay,” you say softly, surveying the room. There’s bank tellers safely behind their desks, but there’s civilians scattered everywhere. Some of them don’t move, too terrified from seeing a suicide bomber. Others start to rush out the doors, but the man threatens to set the bomb off if they don’t stop. You’ve never talked down an offender before, so either you make this quick and hopefully painless, or you try to talk your way out of this. You choose the latter as a start.

“You don’t have to do this,” you say. Wow that sounded a lot like Steve. “There’s no reason why we can’t take care of this like two civil people.”

“No! No civil!” the man shouts, holding up the trigger.

He sounds Russian.

“Alright, alright,” you say, taking a few steps closer.

“Stop! No closer!” he says, hovering his thumb over the trigger.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “But I can’t do that. I can’t let you hurt these people. If you tell me why you’re–“

He presses the trigger, but nothing happens. It must be set after he releases it. Your shoulders tense up, and your purse your lips together. There’s no second guessing it now. You look at his chest, seeing all the wires connected to the bomb. You have no idea how they’re made, but you know heat is a factor. Right? There’s all sorts of hotwiring and chemicals involved, perfectly and intricately wound together. Without an exact spot to focus on, you push your energy around his whole body, then create a second ring centering the bomb. You slowly start raising the temperature around him. If he should release the trigger, then you’ll have encased the explosion around him instead of letting it loose.

“Why are you doing this?” you try again. Sweat drips down your forehead, your heart beats uncomfortably in your chest, and your knees shake. This is just like at the Transamerica Pyramid. But instead of doing the deed, this man is stalling. He’s sweating as well, and looks distressed. Could this be his first time doing something like this? Or maybe he’s done this before, and he was elected to be a suicide bomber? He seems uncomfortable and nervous, looking left and right. He looks scared. But it doesn’t matter. He could’ve killed someone with the bombs he planted at the Skyspace. You cannot sympathize with him.

The man stares hardly at you, now seeming more determined. You take a single step back from his change in behaviour. You keep raising the heat, and compress it deeper around his body. If he doesn’t set the bomb off, then you will; and hopefully sustain the blast. You’re about to try a different approach to get him to stand down, but he opens his mouth, and your eyes widen at what he says.

There’s no second chances now.

“Heil HYDRA.”

He releases the trigger, and you yell as you collapse the heat barrier, and shoot your hand forward, twisting your wrist, to control the blast. A gush of hot wind flows in every direction, and you go down on one knee, trying to contain the explosion. It’s powerful, more powerful than the ones used at the Transamerica Pyramid. Your hands shake from the effort, but you don’t give in. You can’t extinguish the flames too quickly or else you could lose control and unintentionally blow up the building. You scream at everyone to get out, and they go rushing past you, outside to the safety of the streets.

When you have complete control without worrying about collateral damage, you rise up from the floor and close your hands over one another, and glare hardly as the HYDRA agent burns to death.

“Good riddance.”

You pull your hands back quickly, and the fire dissipates. You pant hardly, and push yourself forward to make sure the man is dead and the bomb is out of commission. You shrug his body with your foot, and he doesn’t sit back up. The lights on the bomb have vanished, and the wires are obliterated. Out of superstition, you think about igniting a fireball in your hand and light up his body. His face is already unrecognizable, so there’s no harm in leaving no evidence behind. Forensics may be able to make an identification, so you lower your hands and leave him be. You start walking back outside, hands on your hips, catching your breath. You’re met with a round of applause, something you weren’t expecting. You sheepishly turn around, wiping away the dirt from your face before opening your pocket and putting your sunglasses back on. You tighten your ponytail and fix your cap, pulling it down lower. You don’t mean to be rude, but you’re not ready for the world to know who you are yet. You still have a family. You can’t put them at risk.

You lower your voice as you speak to several people, shaking their hands and accepting their gratitude. You almost start crying when a female bank teller comes up to you, bawling her eyes out from being so afraid. You comfort her as best you can, telling her that everything is fine now and that by the sounds of it, the police are on their way.

“Who are you?” she asks through her tears. You put your hand on her shoulder, gripping it tightly.

“Hellfire,” you reply proudly. You look up and down the streets, now worried about Bucky and if he got out okay. You didn’t have time to think about it while chasing down that HYDRA agent, but now that you’ve done your duty, you need to find him.

You start searching the crowd for a man with a bun and long-sleeves on. You go on your toes and turn all around, but you can’t see him. You hope he made it to the parking garage like he was supposed to.

“Hey, it is her! The fire lady!”

What the fuck?

You turn to your left and see the same man from before; the one who thought you were in fact the woman that put out an apartment fire a few months back. You curse under your breath, and part the crowd behind you before any news crews or police officers show up. A lot of people have their cellphones out, taking photos and videos of you sprinting down the street and out of sight. Some try to follow you, but you’re too fast for them. Only because you have to be.

You run through alleyways and through the crosswalks, not wanting to chance being caught at the scene. You didn’t do anything wrong, but your identity is everything to you. You search for the correct street signs, and bolt your way to the parking garage once you know where you’re going. You skid down the ramp going underground, and search for the black escalade. When you find it, you don’t see Bucky around.

“Bucky?” you harshly whisper. “Bucky? Are you here?”

When you don’t receive an answer, you enter the passcode for the car and sit in the driver’s seat. You take off your sunglasses and mask, and take a breath of fresh air. You set your hands on the steering wheel, and keep your eyes peeled for him.

“God, Bucky. Where the fuck did you go?”

“I’m right here.”

You scream in surprise and accidentally hit the horn as you turn around. Bucky’s in the back seat, laying down on his side, the market bag on the floor. You put your hand over your chest and wheeze from losing your breath.

“Bucky, you shit,” you say. “You scared me to death. What the fuck, man.”

Relaxing against your seat, you close your eyes and have a moment to yourself to calm down. You cannot believe that Bucky just did that. Of course, you’d rather him scare the hell out of you instead of someone choking you from the back seat. Once you’ve collected yourself, you take the time to fix your appearance. You shush Bucky when he tries to talk, wanting to have complete silence for a bit. You unclasp the top of your overalls, letting it fall in your lap. You open the glove box, and shift a gun around to reach for some wet wipes. You pull down the mirror and start wiping away the dirt and grime. In the meantime, Bucky gets out and moves himself to the passenger seat, watching you clean yourself up. You wipe your arms and parts of your legs next, then toss the dirty wipes into the cup holders. You take off your cap and take out your ponytail, shaking your hair for any leftover debris and soot. You sigh, leaning back in your seat, and blow some hair away from your face. You look like a mess. Once you’re finished, Bucky opens up again.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you answer softly. You ask about Bucky before he asks about you again. “How did you do? What happened after I left?”

He shifts in his seat, then removes his sunglasses for the first time today. He rubs his eyes and gets his thoughts together.

“I made it to the lobby,” he starts. “Once I got out, the employees were rushing me out of the building. I acted like everyone else, looking up at the blown out bits of the building before moving on. I slipped away from the crowd and made my way for the parking garage. I found the keys in your purse and waited for you to come back.”

You smile kindly, thankful that he did as you said. He didn’t have any complications, which is good. But whether he’s lying or not, you can’t tell. You’re too tired to make the effort.

“Thank you for listening to me,” you say. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”

“You’re welcome,” he says, staring down at his hands. “And you? What happened?” You sigh again, running your hands through your hair. You don’t want to stay in this garage for too much longer, so you start it up and merge onto the streets, heading back to the compound.

“It was… weird, I think,” you say, a little unsure of yourself. “The explosions were on the eleventh floor. I got two people out, but then I fell through the floor. I’m gonna need some ice packs when we get back. The guy who set off the bombs was on the tenth floor, and had another bomb in place. I sliced it in half and went running after him. He ended up in the City National Bank, and had a bomb strapped to his chest. I tried to talk him out of it but… he went and blew himself up. I contained the blast and no one was injured. After that, I ran back to the garage to find you.”

“Did he say who he was working for?” he asks. “Or why he was doing this?”

You can go one of two ways to answer this question: tell Bucky it was a HYDRA agent and have him tense up and suggest never going outside again, or you could tell him that you didn’t know anything. Which is true, to a degree. The man didn’t say why he was blowing up the Skyspace, but with him being a HYDRA agent, is there really any question as to why? Most likely not. Sighing, you decide to just tell him the truth. You don’t want to keep secrets from him.

“He was a HYDRA agent,” you say coolly. “He wasn’t exactly in the mood to talk. Too busy trying to cause death and destruction. But he said ‘Heil HYDRA’ and blew himself up. He didn’t seem like he was looking for you though! He didn’t mention your name. Either he was acting on his own, or HYDRA sent him to fuck shit up. Either way, none of this has to do with you.”

Bucky leans his head against the window, and slouches in his seat. He really was having a great time with you, and then this shitshow had to happen. You’re unhurt, thank god, but without this blunder, he would have had the best day in his life. But of course not, because this is the life of Bucky Barnes. No matter where he goes or what he does, there’s always violence and death. And HYDRA. And quite frankly, he’s sick of it. He digs the heels of his palms into his eyes, and wills himself to calm down.

No one died. This isn’t your fault. This isn’t your fault.

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” he says after some silence. “Besides falling through the floor.”

“Yeah,” you smile. “I think I’m getting used to this. It’s kind of exhilarating. Is that weird to say? I mean, I’m not excited about it, but I just get a rush of energy and I feel unstoppable.”

“No,” Bucky says, a smile creeping on his face. “That’s not weird.”

“Okay, good,” you breathe, laughing a bit. “I was worried for a sec that I’d be considered a thrill-seeker when really I’m just trying to do my job efficiently.”

Bucky smiles some more, then sits back up in his seat, and takes out his bun. He gives his hair a shake and slips his sunglasses back on. You take a quick glimpse at him and pout.

“I liked it when you had your hair up,” you whine, stopping at a red light. “It really suited you.”

“It was pulling my forehead back,” he complains, rubbing his hairline. “It was too tight.”

“You’re the one that put it up!” you laugh. “That’s your own fault. Try a looser bun next time.”

“’Next time’?” he repeats, turning towards you. “Are you implying that I’m gonna have to put my hair up like that again?”

“Why not?” you counter, turning left. “It’s a different look for you. And honestly. Who would be on the lookout for an assassin with his hair in a bun? How many assassins have you heard of that tied their hair back to take a shot? I certainly haven’t heard of any. Plus, you look good like that.”

You whisper that last part, sort of hoping that he did hear it. The radio is on low, but you spoke quietly enough that he wouldn’t be able to hear you. He doesn’t say anything back, but mostly because he was daydreaming about… certain things. You turn the radio up to fill the silence, and continue the way home peacefully. However, Bucky has a revelation, and whips his head around.

“What do you mean you sliced the bomb in half?!”

The energetic atmosphere from before had already returned the moment Bucky opened his mouth again. The car was filled with laughter and nothing but good vibes. But there was the nagging thought in the back of your mind that Steve was going to greet the two of you with a stern look on his face, ready to fire off with a lecture. You were hoping that he’d gone out on his own to do his own thing and not hear a word about what happened downtown.

Turns out, you were right on both accounts.

Steve had gone into the city as well, but he did hear about what happened. He was only a mile away when it all happened, in Chinatown. He ran to the site of the incident while keeping himself hidden at the same time. He saw you take care of things, which made him proud, but still worried. He didn’t see Bucky around, which just made him worry even more. But when he saw you and him charging up the driveway to the front doors of the compound, he was immensely relieved. But also still a little peeved.

“Okay, I know what you’re thinking,” you say as soon as you see the look on Steve’s face. “But I literally could not ignore it, Steve. I was two floors above where it happened. I couldn’t leave it alone.”

“I know, _______,” he says calmly, crossing his arms and looking towards the tile. “I’m not mad about you doing something. I’m just worried about these escalated crimes happening. It’s putting me on edge.”

“Oh.” You weren’t expecting that. Some light scolding maybe, but this is the first time you’ve heard Steve voice his concern about something other than you being reckless. You’re pretty worried about it too, because so far, they’ve all been associated with HYDRA. You fear that they’ll never go away as long as Bucky is out of their possession, but you promised yourself that you’ll never let them get to him. They’ll have to kill you first.

“I know,” you say. “They seem to be everywhere these days. Every now and then I listen to the news, but then I change the channel because I can’t listen to it anymore.”

You take the market bag from Bucky’s hand and make way for the kitchen to start putting everything away. Hopefully nothing got bruised.

“Bucky wasn’t in the spotlight,” you continue, putting the organics in the fridge. “I told him that if anything happened, get the hell outta dodge. And he did. He went straight to the parking garage and waited for me. Then we came straight home, just like I said.” You turn around, and Steve has a small smile on his face. You give him one back, and keep putting the groceries away.

“Other than that, it was a really nice day at the market,” you say quietly. You smile to yourself just thinking back. Thinking about Bucky’s smile, his hair, his laugh. Everything is, and was, prefect. You can hear Steve and Bucky speaking in hushed whispers, but you don’t really care. You’re just too excited about having a make-your-own pizza night. You hope Bucky lingers around and makes his own too.

Once all the groceries are away, you grab an ice pack from the freezer, and gingerly press it against your lower back. You unclasp your overall buttons again, letting it dangle in front of you. You gasp at how cold it is, and go flop on the couch so you don’t have to make the effort to hold it there yourself. You groan and smush your face into a pillow, then sigh contently at how comfy you are.

“What happened there?” Steve asks, walking over to the back of the couch.

“Fell through the floor,” comes your muffled reply.

“You fell through the floor?” he repeats, looking back at Bucky. He just shrugs and gives him an “I-don’t-know” look.

“Yeah,” you say. “And now, I am tending to my throbbing back. That’s how it works.” Steve sighs through his nose and leans over to squeeze the back of your neck. You scream from being sensitive and try to swat him away.

“What was that for?” you ask.

“Recklessness.”

“Well excuse me if I can’t help when the floor opens up and swallows me whole.”

“That’s no excuse.”

This teasing bastard.

“I swear to god, Steven. I’ll choke you out right now.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

You fling yourself off the back of the couch and go running after him. You jump on his back and he starts spinning in circles, not really trying to pry you off his back. You wrap your arms around his neck and choke him just a little bit.

“Okay, Bucky. I got his neck, you get his legs.”

“Why the legs?”

“Because his stupid shield doesn’t cover his legs and that’s his weak spot. Right, Captain Dumbass?”

“Okay, okay, okay.”

Steve reaches behind him and grabs your sides, prompting you to scream in his ear and let go of him. You cover your hips with your hands and frown at him.

“You’re so mean,” you whine, delicately squeezing your skin.

“Don’t jump on my back and choke me then,” he counters, giving you a hearty smile. “And I thought your back hurt. Doesn’t look like it to me.” You lean over the couch and pick up the ice pack, then press it against your back again.

“Yeah, well,” you say. “I can be sprung into action by the right amount of sass.”

“Really?” he muses. “Because I don’t see you go rushing after Tony when he gives you a little lip.”

“Oh, please,” you counter, blowing your lips. “I’m sparing him the embarrassment of being overpowered by me.”

“I guess that’s a fair bet,” Steve agrees. “I wouldn’t try it on him, though. He’s kinda touchy.”

“Like I didn’t already know that,” you scoff. “He probably would have countermeasures to make sure I wouldn’t be able to reach him.”

“He probably already does,” Steve guesses. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Well I certainly would.”

You hop up on the counter and kick your legs, and wince. You press the ice pack harder against your back and gasp at how nice it feels. Steve gives you a mildly concerned look, but you just brush him off.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you say. “I’d take this over a bullet wound any day.”

“You need any help with that?” Bucky finally chimes in.

“No,” you smile, flicking your eyes toward the floor. “I can manage.”

He nods, dropping his gaze at the floor, but he still peeks up at you. He stares at the front of your overalls hanging between your legs, the patch of skin from your shirt being bunched up, to the scar on your thigh. He’s not undressing you with his eyes; he’s just looking… and admiring. Steve certainly catches on, since he has a clear view of you and Bucky. He puts his hands on his hips and looks back and forth between you two, and smiles fondly when you look up and see Bucky staring. Steve raises a brow at Bucky before he begins his departure.

“Well that was fun,” he says, looking over his shoulder. “Let me know when you two would like some time alone in advance.”

Your eyes widen in surprise and mild annoyance when Steve gives the last word. Out of all the things to say, and that’s what’s on his mind? You want to punch him in the mouth. That way he won’t get to say another word from those pretty lips of his. Glaring at his back as he disappears down the hall, you quickly jump down from the counter and start making yourself some late lunch.

“D–“

“I’m making some lunch. Do you want anything?”

You cut Bucky off the moment he’s about to speak, not wanting to face whatever he has to say. If he had something to say about what Steve just said, you don’t want to hear it. A stiff atmosphere is not what you need right now.

“Uh. No, I’m okay thanks.”

You get to work on some oatmeal and fruit, preparing them in silence. Bucky stands there awkwardly, not really sure about what to do with himself. He pats his thighs, and purses his lips, looking at different points in the room.

“I’m just gonna go to one of the training rooms then,” he announces. You look over your shoulder and smile.

“Okay. I’ll see you at dinner. Bring your A-game.”

“Why?”

“’Cause we’re gonna make some pizza.”

“Oh. Alright. I’ll see you then.”

You smile appreciatively, then wave at him as he vanishes around the corner. You sigh tiredly through your nose once he’s gone, and think about what Steve said.

‘Alone time’? Get a grip, Steve. We always have alone time.

You focus back on your lunch, and put a smile on your face by thinking about what Bucky’s going to look like when he’s making his own pizza.

After your lunch, you had a much needed shower. There’s a reasonably sized bruise on your back, but definitely not as bad as the first one. Being slammed into a cement post and falling through the floor are bound to have some mild consequences, but you’ve managed to get away unscathed each time. Either you’re lucky, or skilled at nailing a pathetic landing.

Tony passes you by as you lounge about in the living room. It’s amazing because you don’t see him around much. Well, maybe he’s a morning person and gets everything done then while you’re snoozing away until noon. You wave at him, but he doesn’t even acknowledge you. Through a hand gesture, anyway.

He tosses a pistachio at the back of your head.

“Hey, peanut,” he says, walking towards the couch.

“Hey!” you shout, finding the pistachio and throwing it back at him. “Hello to you too, Mr. Suit.”

Tony dons a suit today, minus the jacket. He looks like he’s going somewhere important. He cracks open a few shells before addressing you again.

“Feelin’ good these days?” he asks.

“Pretty good, yeah,” you answer honestly. “You?”

“Is there really anything to complain about?” he muses. You can’t tell if he’s joking or not. “Listen. I’m going to New York for a few days. Think you can stay out of trouble without me here?”

Ahh. The essence of arrogance. You’ve gotten to know him to the point where you can tell when he puts his ego first just to annoy the hell out of you. This is definitely one of those times. Rolling your eyes, you turn your attention back to the TV.

“I can manage,” you say. “Why are you going to New York?”

“Official Stark business,” comes his reply. You nod in understanding, and laugh along with your show. He takes your disinterest as his sign to leave, but he has one more thing to speak with you about being departing.

“By the way,” he starts. “I never really got around to asking this because I figured you’d come to me first. But have you chosen your alias?”

You perk up at the sound of that, and eagerly turn towards him. He looks like he’s in a hurry, or wants to be, so you give it to him straight.

“It’s ‘Hellfire’,” you say. Come to think of it, you didn’t get around to telling him your original choice, going along with the bird theme and matching Sam and naming yourself “Phoenix”, but you dropped that name when “Hellfire” seemed to fit you better. Threatening to some, but you interpret it as kicking ass while raising hell.

“Interesting choice,” he says, shaking his pistachio bag. He reaches in, pulls one out, and eats it before continuing on. “Nice to see you agree with us about originating from hell.”

“Hardy har har,” you mock, facing forward again. “It’s my name, alright? That’s what I’m going with.”

“No judgment,” he says, raising his hands in defence. “Sounds strong and powerful. I can run with that.”

“Oh, I am sure you can,” you agree. You look back at him, and he’s just staring at you. You put your ear forward, silently asking if he needs anything else. When he doesn’t say something, you wave at him. “See you when you get back, I guess.”

“Oh, right.” He seems to remember that he actually needed to be somewhere, and starts speed-walking to the entrance. “Catch you later, Hellfire.”

“Back at ya.”

Tony makes his leave, and you’re left alone again. You don’t even know who else is still at the compound, besides Bucky. Not many of them have passed through the kitchen and living room area, so you suppose they’re out in the city or in their own areas of the compound. Or maybe out of the country. But how often does that happen?

After your show is finished, you look at the time, and decide to start making dinner. But one very important person missing.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” you call out.

“Yes, _______?” she says.

“Where is Bucky?”

“He is returning from the showers.”

“Can you tell him to meet me in the kitchen?”

“Of course.”

She relays the message overhead, and it makes you smile. You excitedly roll off the couch and skip into the kitchen, diving into the fridge to grab all the ingredients for making pizzas. You eagerly greet Bucky as he walks in, putting all the vegetables and dough on the island.

“Hey!” you squeak.

“Hi,” he grins, looking at the counter. “This for the pizzas?”

“Yup!” you reply, counting everything to make sure it’s all there. “We got the dough, peppers, cheese, pepperoni, sausage, onions, and tomato sauce. Is that okay with you? I can check the fridge again if I don’t have any o–“

“This is fine, _______,” he says, holding his hand up. “This isn’t my first time.”

“Great! ‘Cause it’s not mine either.”

You pick up the dough and slap it on the counter, then rub your hands together in anticipation. You have a realization, then go grab two wooden cutting boards. You chuck them on the counter, and push one over to Bucky.

“Cleanliness is a virtue,” you say, splitting the dough in half. “And an asset.”

“It’s not the only asset,” Bucky mumbles to himself, accepting his half of the dough.

“What was that?” you ask, looking at him expectantly.

“Oh, um. J-Just that I agree it’s an asset,” he lies.

“Oh.”

You just smile at him and start spreading your dough on your cutting board. Bucky sighs a quiet breath of relief, and clears his throat before focusing on his own pizza. You spread yours out in silence, wanting to get this right. You know it’s not going to be perfectly round, but you can dream. As long as it comes out of the oven and deemed edible; that’s what you really care about. You beat it down with your fists, and push it away with the heels of your palms. You hum to yourself before getting the wooden roller and start flattening the dough. You hold it up, offering it to Bucky, but he shakes his head.

“I can manage.”

“If you say so.”

As you look down at your dough, you feel that you’ve forgotten something; just one thing that’s missing. You tap your fingers on the counter before having an “ohh” moment, and go searching through the cupboards again. When you find what you’re looking for, you slam it on the counter.

“Flour,” you smile, turning it around. “I knew something felt off. I tried to remember what photos of dough looked like, and there was all that white stuff around it.”

You open the bag and reach in, then flick some on your dough. You flop it upside-down and do the underside, then scatter some around the cutting board. You push the bag towards Bucky before getting right back to work. Bucky does the same thing, grabbing a handful and sprinkling it all over his dough, but instead of putting the extra back in the bag, he flicks it at your face. Your mouth drops in surprise, and you freeze. You’re in utter disbelief that he just did that.

“Bucky. Barnes,” you start slowly, wiping away the flour from your nose. “You did not just throw flour a–“

He flicks some more at you, sporting a toothy grin all the while. Most of it covers half of your face, and you blow your lips in attempt to get some of it off. You cock your head to the side sharply, and raise your hand to brush it away. You stare up at him and bite your cheek, daring him to do it again.

“Try it one more time,” you challenge. “I fuckin’ dare you.”

His grin only grows wider. He keeps eye contact with you as he reaches in the bag with his metal arm, grabs another handful, and slowly brings it back out, ready to fling it at your face. You lean closer to him, never looking away from his eyes. He licks his lips in anticipation, and you brace yourself, ready for the impact.

“If you’re too scared then I’ll–“

As soon as you mention him wimping out, he leans back and throws the entire pile of flour in your face. You gasp and spit some out and wipe your hands down your face. You thought you were ready, but apparently not. Once it’s gone from your eyes, you glare hardly at him.

“That’s it.”

You quickly reach over the counter and grab the bag of flour. Bucky immediately gets out of his seat and backs away from you. You grab a fistful and start throwing it at him.

“Get back here, Barnes!” you yell, watching the flour land in his hair. “I’ll dump this whole thing on you!”

“Gotta catch me first,” he teases, keeping his distance.

“Oh, you little–!”

You keep chucking it across the island, but most of it lands on his clothes. You growl in frustration, wanting nothing more than to smother his face in flour. Your chest heaves after running around, and you think of your next move. He’s got a few specks here and there on his face, some hanging off his eyelashes. You never thought he’d start a flour fight, but you’re secretly glad he did. You’ve always wanted to have one, and now that you’re in the middle of one, you couldn’t be happier. You don’t regret this at all.

You wait for the perfect shot, but he’s not going to let you have it. You want to just chuck the whole bag at him, but then you’d waste your opportunity. Instead of trying to attack him again, you stand up straight and lower the bag. You walk around the island to get back to your own side, Bucky doing the same. You never break eye contact.

You put the flour on the counter and push it away from both of you, but just close enough that you can grab it if the chance presents itself again. You blow your hair from your face, and hold your hand out.

“Truce?” you offer. Bucky looks at your hand, skeptical of your surrender. He narrows his eyes at you, and you maintain your innocence. He reaches forward with his metal hand, and shakes on it.

“Truce,” he agrees. You smile sweetly, and start kneading your dough again. Bucky keeps an eye on you and the flour, pondering if you’re lying to him. If it was him, then he’d definitely go back on his word for a little more fun. When you stretch your arm out near the flour his hands twitch, but as you pick up the wooden roller instead, he relaxes. Deeming it safe (for now), he spreads his dough out on his board and forgets about it.

As you get some spoons to spread the sauce, Sam comes into the kitchen, sweaty as ever, and makes way for the fridge. He gulps down his orange juice (his name was written on the carton) before addressing the state of you two.

“Well I can’t say I’m surprised,” he comments, regarding the flour all over your bodies.

“He started it, believe it or not,” you say, walking over to give Bucky his spoon.

“Really?” Sam says, overdoing his shock. Bucky refrains from rolling his eyes, but ignores Sam nonetheless. “Guess the goody-two-shoes persona doesn’t suit him well.”

“Oh, shove off, you,” you say. “A little flour never hurt anyone. And I got him back!”

“Barely,” Bucky adds, evenly spreading his sauce around. You give him a pointed expression, but he doesn’t even notice. He’s too immersed in his pizza-making. You peer at Sam, breaking out into a devilish grin. He smiles back when he sees where you’re getting at.

“Distract him,” you whisper lowly. He nods, then strolls over to Bucky, taking his juice with him. Bucky side-eyes him, but doesn’t give him much acknowledgment. You approach the island, and dump some tomato sauce on your dough as well, spreading it with your own spoon. You glance up at Sam, then nod at Bucky, telling him to get a move on. Truth be told, Sam doesn’t really know what to say to him. The two have some bad blood, despite having minor altercations together. But Sam will talk about worms if he has to to see you give Bucky a face full of flour. He leans his forearms on the marble, and turns his head towards him.

“So,” he starts, the atmosphere already awkward. “Those were some moves you did during the dance. I couldn’t believe you kept up with us.”

Bucky pulls a sour face at Sam, wondering why the hell he’s talking about that. He turns to you for any guidance, but you just shrug your shoulders, feigning innocence. You add some more sauce and wait for your chance to douse him in flour.

“Thanks, I guess,” Bucky mumbles. When he’s done spreading sauce, he grabs a knife from one of the drawers and starts cutting up a pepper. Sam gives you a stare that says “what-the-hell-do-I-do-now”, but you just egg him on with aggressive head nods. Sighing, he nods along and stands up straight. He’s not afraid of Bucky with a knife; in fact, he’s not afraid of Bucky at all. He’s just stiff and suffocated whenever he’s in the same room as him because they don’t get along very well. However, he can get along with him for five minutes for your sake.

He scrambles around for possible conversation starters in his mind, careful not to bring up anything too sensitive. He knows Bucky can handle himself, but there’s a difference between being an asshole and triggering him. Bucky’s not made of glass, but Sam knows what it feels like to have an unwanted memory resurface because of something someone said. Nevertheless, Sam approaches him with the same cocky smile and sarcastic demeanor.

“However,” he muses, smiling widely. “I think you were slacking the most during practice.”

Oh my god Sam, you know that’s not true.

“Think so?” Bucky questions, irritated. “Because I remember you being the first one to tuck tail and run the moment practice was over. And that you complained the most.”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Sam says, now on the defensive. “I don’t think I did the most complaining. Steve was pretty–“

“Oh don’t even try to pin it all on Steve,” you interject, giving Sam a cheeky smile. “You were the one that complained the most. You were up and out to the weights room the second I said we were finished.”

“Gimme a break, Spyro,” he pleads. “I wasn’t meant to dance, alright? All the weird positions and girly movements just isn’t my style.”

“I’d say it’s your best look yet,” Bucky chimes in. He doesn’t cower under Sam’s scrutinizing gaze. “Feeling out of place and embarrassed is certainly a better look than condescending and smug.”

“You better watch your mouth,” Sam strikes back. He tones down his irritation to avoid a fight, because he knows that’s not what you want. “Maybe so. But I’m just poking fun at you, Barnes. No harm, no foul.”

“And I thought I made it perfectly clear that I was as well,” Bucky quips, sprinkling his pizza with peppers. He gives Sam a quick smile, which makes Sam smile in return.

Isn’t this a rare sight. They’re bantering.

You realize you don’t have that much time left, so you quickly grab the bag of flour when Bucky’s looking at Sam. You quietly spread it apart, and hold it comfortably in the palm of your hand. When Sam makes another wisecrack and Bucky falls for it, you cheerfully call out his name.

“Hey Buckyyy.”

“What is i–“

The moment he turns to face towards you, you shove the rest of the flour in his face. A lot lands in his hair, and he’s frozen in place, processing what just happened. You and Sam burst out laughing, giving each other a high-five as Bucky shakes his head and wipes his eyes. He scowls at you, and you give him a cheerful grin.

“You lied to me,” he says, pitting out some flour.

“You, lied to me?” you heartily mock. “You know I couldn’t let you finish decorating your pizza without giving you your comeuppance.”

“Gotta hand it to you, Spyro,” Sam beams, slapping a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “You just made my day.” Bucky shrugs Sam off, prompting him to laugh some more. Sam picks up his juice and begins to make his leave.

“I’ll see ya later, Spyro,” he says. “You too, Flakes.”

Bucky rolls his eyes in annoyance at Sam’s new nickname for him. Bucky offers a lazy wave of his hand as Sam departs, leaving you and Bucky alone again.

“I think that one’s going to stick,” you comment. “’Flakes’. I can totally see it being your identifier.”

“I don’t think so,” Bucky snorts, running a hand through his hair. More flour falls from his hair, and you sigh contently.

“I should’ve known,” Bucky sighs. “It was too obvious. There are no truces when it comes to food, is there?”

“Right on the mark,” you say, giving him some finger guns. “Now we’re even.”

“And I just showered too,” he mumbles.

“So did I!” you say, blowing some extra flour on the counter at him. “Doesn’t feel nice, does it?”

“No! It’s just–ugh!”

He keeps shaking his hands in his hair, and you watch on smugly as the flour floats down to his shoulders. You shake your head at him, laughing through your teeth. When he’s getting too frustrated, you take matters into your own hands.

“Oh, come here, you doofus.”

You round the corner of the island and stretch your arms out, brushing the flour off his shoulders and getting as much as you can out of his hair. It’s still a little damp, so the flour is sticking to him quite well. You click your tongue in annoyance, but you don’t really mind. You get to touch Bucky’s hair. That’s always a plus. Bucky sighs impatiently, flicking his eyes at you. There’s a considerable amount of flour in your hair as well, so he brings his hands up and starts shaking your hair too. You start sputtering when some falls into your mouth, and even produce a sneeze when the puffs of flour shoot up your nose.

“Bless you,” Bucky chuckles.

“Thanks,” you sniffle, rubbing the underside of your nose. You inspect his hair again, but you’ve done all you can. “You’re gonna have to take another shower. I can’t get anymore out.”

“Perfect,” he scoffs. “You’ll have to take another one as well. ‘Cause that stuff isn’t going anywhere.”

“Oh, and I wonder whose fault that is,” you say, putting your hands on your hips.

“You know very well whose it is,” he challenges, taking a step towards you. “It’s your fault.”

“My fault–listen here, Bucko,” you begin, pointing a finger in his chest. “You’re the one that decided to start this flour war. You made the first move. I just counteracted like anyone else would. So don’t go telling me that it’s my fault you look like a powdered donut.”

Bucky smirks smugly at you, and slowly eases his face towards yours. You don’t move, but you’re hyper aware of how close he is to you now; you’re almost nose-to-nose. His hair sweeps forward and tickles your cheek, so you lean back a bit to keep some space between you two. The ambiance feels incredibly different now, more intimate than anything. You could kiss him right now if you wanted to. Well, you do want to, but it’d be totally inappropriate. You have no idea how he feels, so you’d be taking a giant risk if you had the guts to show him how you feel. He stops inching closer to you when he sees how far back you’ve bent yourself. He looks straight in your eyes and whispers.

“It’s still your fault.”

You resist the urge to look down at his lips, because that’d be too blatantly obvious. Instead, you keep your eyes locked on his, and slowly push yourself upwards. Bucky backs away as you do so, but he still makes himself look big by stretching out his neck. You boldly lean into him this time, but instead of kissing him, you whisper in his ear.

“Finish your pizza, Flakes.”

You smile as you pull away, the tension easing off your shoulders as you look back down at the counter to finish making your pizza. Bucky sighs, slightly disappointed, but he didn’t think you’d take his bait anyway. He stands by his end of the counter, and starts shredding some cheese. He knows he’ll get another chance. It’s only a matter of time before he finally reveals himself to you.

E/A/N: Wow I am so sorry again for how long this is. Hopefully the next chapter won’t be as wordy, but I can’t promise anything. Chapter Fourteen is gonna be a fucking party. Literally. Next chapter, Tony officially introduces you as a new addition to the Avengers! Oh. And a lot of fluff ensues.

[divinelydivorced]

Javier Returns...

(Reader Suggestion: If you have not read the previous two postings from a year ago called Javier and Javier, Part Two, you should go back and get caught up on this wild Argentinian adventure.)

We reconnected recently when Facebook suggested we be friends. Oh, Facebook…constantly stirring up trouble.  Always a little too curious, I clicked “Add Friend.”  Then I immediately canceled the request.  Think this through, Lisa.  Okay…let’s think.  Well, I am single.  Although I’d like to give my last relationship another try, my ex made it clear this past week that he feels quite the opposite, so it is time to move on. Although, I had decided to not date for a while and just take some room to breathe.  But it was Javier.  Javier.  You didn’t date Javier, you had fun with Javier.  I clicked “Add Friend,” closed my laptop and resolved to let fate take its course.

Within minutes (because, yes, I kept checking-screw fate) he had accepted.  Then we both waited, with neither initiating contact that night.  To be honest, after a good night’s sleep, I awoke fairly content with our new friend status and happy to leave it at that.  The simple click of the button had satisfied my need for something exciting and perhaps getting together again would be too rash. Yes, I thought, this is what mature adults do.

About 48 hours after we declared our friendship to the world, he sent a message.  Ah-ha! Apparently, I had more will power. He asked how I was doing, how yoga was going, etc.  I waited a bit, then replied that it was good (more small talk), then asked how he was. Javier is not one for idle chit chat. So, he abruptly replied, “Fine. All good.”  It was quickly followed with, “Maybe I misunderstood but I am assuming u reached out bc u want to get together?  Let me know.  Otherwise hope it is all good on your end.”  Well, so much for being just friends.

I quickly blamed Facebook for pushing us together again but replied (trying to sound totally breezy), “Sure, if you want to get together that would be nice.”  As soon as I hit send, I panicked.  This time around, I really should be more in charge of the situation. Doorways and laps and liquor and yelling down the street…it was too much.  Inevitably each time I’d turned into a giggling idiot.  

So, in an effort to avoid straddling a motorcycle and his thighs under a streetlamp, I immediately followed up with “We should do something adventurous.  Let’s go rock climbing!”  To which he agreed.

We met on a Sunday evening.  I made sure to get there quite early so this time I had the upper hand.  Sure enough, as I was in a corner filling out a waiver, I heard him walk in.  Unlike his “wide open, staring straight at the entrance” stance from previous times, I took the opposite approach.  With my back towards the door, I focused on the questions in front of me as if I didn’t care if he ever showed up.  Out of my peripheral he watches me.  He comes closer.  I continue to stare at the form.  Closer.  Staring. Closer.  Staring but very much aware of his breath hitting my neck. Closer still…and then he bumps me with his hip, pulls away, and laughs.  He believes he snuck up on me…good.  (Like the ballerina…let him falsely believe I am the weak one and he is in control.)

We begin climbing and within minutes I realize I am not a climber.  It’s not that I don’t have the ability.  It’s that I don’t have the ability NOR do I have the desire.   So, I give it a couple of rounds and then take a voyeur approach. He climbs and climbs.  He falls.  Then he climbs some more…and falls some more.  The whole thing was really quite amusing.  Not just him but the other men around us.  The facility’s tag line should be, “For those in need of a testosterone boost.”

The whole thing is far more complicated than it looks.  To his credit, he never stopped asking for guidance from other climbers.  He would watch their moves, mimic them, and when he couldn’t quite get it, he’d ask for additional pointers.  Each time, the same spot would trip him up and he’d have to let go and hop down.  At one point, in a continuous movement, he leaps down, scoops me up, and sits both of us on the ground against the wall.  He sighs and stretches his sore hand.  Then he looks at me with a smile and says in his thick accent, “I know what you are doing. You brought me here to break me down. You wish to break down my masculinity. This I know to be true.”  I giggle, but this time because I realize he may be right.  When I don’t deny it, he runs his hands through his thick hair, lunges towards the wall, and in an attempt to use pure adrenalin tries to make it the top.  But down he comes with a swear and a laugh, as if he is applauding the wall as the victor.

He sits next to me.  We talk about life, where we have been and how we’ve grown in the last year.  I forgot how good he was at conversation.  He asked about my relationship, the man I’d committed to, causing me not to see him anymore.  I told him it had ended and when he asked why, I said I still wasn’t sure…that I was quite sad still about the whole thing really.  It felt okay to tell him this and he didn’t seem to mind.  In fact, his deep gaze showed there was an appreciation in the honesty of my words.  He let me have a few moments of silence as my mind and heart slipped back into the memory of that past relationship…wondering where he was and if he missed me at that very moment.  It wasn’t until I brought my gaze back to his, with a soft smile, that he gave me a very gentle kiss on the head.  He really can be quite sweet when he so chooses.  

He asked if we should climb some more and I said perhaps we should.  He again tried to tackle the same spot in the wall and continued to come tumbling down. His hands were getting tired I could see, so in an effort to take a break he slid back down beside me, scooped me up onto his lap and kissed my face.  I told him to stop because I didn’t believe rock climbing was big on public displays of affection but this only made him try to kiss me more.  

Sliding off of his lap while I laughed and he laughed, he said, “You’ve made my hands tired.  You’ve made my hands so tired that now I cannot grab you.  You can run away from me as I try to catch you and fail. This is why you’ve brought me here.” We then, being quite silly, act it out as if he’s trying to get his hands to hold me but I slip out.  This amuses us greatly and no one else seems to mind.

We begin to talk more, this time about what the week holds.  I go through my usual schedule, which is busy but not exciting.  Then he says, he will be gone for five days.  When I ask why, he stares off dreamingly and says, “I must go ride a bull.”  He continues to look away, pondering.  I replied with the normal response to someone saying they are leaving in two days to ride a bull: “I’m sorry, what?”  He then repeats himself, as if I had simply not heard him.  I explained I had heard him, quite clearly in fact, but needed more details to fully understand what was happening.

He then explained he met a man not too long ago who had just come from riding a bull in Missouri.  To hear the man tell of this adventure, to admit he would never do it again, to describe the exhilaration and the terror, he knew he must go.  So, he asked who to contact, made the call, paid the bill and started telling everyone in an effort to prevent himself from backing out.  Now, as he put it simply, “I must go.”

He asked what I thought and I said, “Well, I’m vegan, so I’m not thrilled to say the least.”  He said, “Ah, yes.  I remember this about you.”  Then I asked if he was scared, to which he replied, “Yes, of course.  It is a bull.  A bull.”  Then he said, “But think of when I come back.  Someone wants to challenge me.  I say, ‘Yeah, it is okay, sure.  But when you have ridden a bull, then we will talk.’”  He laughs at himself, knowing he will use this in many debates, knowing it will fuel his ego, and believing it to be one of his most brilliant ideas.  Then, just as I was writing him off as a typical man, he says, beaming, “Plus. Think of my kids.  Other kids will say ‘my dad does this’ and ‘my dad does that.’ My kid?  My kid will say, ‘my dad rode a bull!’”  And with that he scoops me back up onto his lap, attempts to make me kiss him, and then puts me aside as he runs toward the wall yet again.  As he slips off once more, he declares we are done.

We turn in our equipment and head outside. Our cars are parked in different directions and I’ve made it clear the night will go no further.  He puts distance between us and we smile at one another, another game of chicken.  Neither wanting to give in but both too tired to wait, we walk towards one another at the same time.  He scoops me up in his arms and is lifting me high as he walks down the street carrying me towards his car.  He screams, “I’ve got you now!  I can still catch you.  What will you do?” as I laugh and squeal, my head tossed back.  We’ve made a scene yet again, him yelling unabashedly and me a giggling fool.  Inevitably some woman who just got dumped will drive by, see us, and wonder how she finds something like that.  It’s the same thing I’ve thought so many times, lonely and heartbroken. Everything looks different from the outside.  We appear to be two lovers who happened to find each other in this crazy world. When really, we are just a small-town vegan girl craving adventure and a man about to ride a bull.  

After biting my ear many times, he puts me down and just holds me.  He wants to kiss me and I say he can but only if it is sweet.   He does not like this but I keep pushing his face away with my hand until he realizes I’m not joking.  He concedes, giving me a very gentle kiss on the lips and then one on the forehead.  (So, he does have it in him.)  He wants me to come home with him.  I say no. He wants to see me again.  I am silent as I smile.  He doesn’t like to wait.  I look into his deep brown eyes, slip out from under his embrace, and as I start to walk away say, “Go.  Go ride your bull.  If you make it back alive, call me.”