#I love how falcon just. can’t stop himself from naming everything after falcons

[kelpermoosee]

I love binging the F-Zero anime because every time there’s a crowd shot, I like to imagine Captain Olimar cheering on Falcon :3

[rabbitdarling]

Fic Sneak Peak: Speak Low, if you speak Love

Fandom: House of the Dragon Pairing: Daemon Targaryen/Rhaenyra Targaryen Tropes: Non-Traditional Omega-Verse, AU, King Baelon, Low-Honor Viserys Targaryen, Aemma never married Viserys.

“I told Ser Timos where I was going once I was done with my lessons and chores.” Rhaenyra says with a roll of her eyes as she looks up at the man, a pout pulling at her full lips enticingly, and Daemon was struggling to keep his attention on the newcomer. 

“Rhaenyra, don’t argue.” The man says sharply even as his one hand lands on the hilt of his sword and Daemon can’t stop tensing further his own free hand slipping to were his own sword rested but he grits his teeth, if he were to pull Dark Sister out the ruse would be up and he was quite content to get to know Rhaenyra simply as a man meeting a young woman. 

For once he wanted to be seen for who he was and not the title he was born into; he loves his family, loves his heritage and everything that came with all three. But to be seen as just a man? A man willing to prove himself worthy of her attention, trust and heart? 

That was something he had never thought he’d get, thought that eventually Baelon would have to marry him off either because of a scandal like Viserys or something he didn’t even want to contemplate. 

His movement must have caught the man's attention and it gave him pause at the way the dirty blond man shifted to put himself between them and only then did Daemon recognize the hold on the pommel of the knight's sword. He did it himself after all, so with a slow breath Daemon forces himself to relax his stance while he glances between the two curious as to how they knew each other because there were hardly any shared features between them and yet something in their mannerisms linked them.  - - -

Everything about the other Valyrian man called to her, from his scent to the look in his eyes when he looked at her. He called to her as an Alpha calls to Omega, man to woman. She didn’t know his family name, didn’t know where he called home though for surely it must be King’s Landing or mayhap Dragonstone itself.  

For the first time she understands the hushed whispers of maids and ladies that she overheard, of the heat of want and need. It was in the way her blood felt molten straight to her core when she had caught his scent, when he dared to touch and hold her hand. 

She hopes that perhaps her parents would indulge her heart and allow the informal courtship to test if the calling could solidify into something far more permanent. Though royal blood flowed through her veins, Rhaenyra was but a Lady of the Vale like so many others, if perhaps with a loftier surname. Though she could already tell that Brynden wasn’t sure of the knight but then again her brother had always had more of a protective streak more akin to a dragons or alpha’s than most would think his falcon blood capable of.

[cjsinkythoughts]

Not Your Captain

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 1695

Warnings: Falcon and the Winter Soldier Spoilers!!!!! Lots of Angst in this one, guys, lotta feels, some Fluff to counterbalance it, but mostly Angst, Cursing

A/N: This is Part Two to my previous FATWS writing, His Only Contact. FATWS SERIES STERLIST HERE! This one is from Reader’s perspective and gives you a bit more about Reader’s backstory. There will be multiple parts coming out in the next day or two based just on this new episode because damn. It was loaded!  Due to this and my workload this past week, I haven’t been able to post the first chapter of my College!AU, Erased From the Stars, but I promise it’s coming! This’ll be my main focus for the weekend though! Expect more parts in the next 24 hours! I’ll be making a masterlist for this particular project in that time, too! Taglists are open! Please contact me if you want to be tagged! Thank you and please enjoy, loves! (Not beta’d, so sorry for mistakes!)

AGAIN: SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

The moment you saw it on TV, you knew you had to get to Bucky. You weren’t planning on leaving until the next day, but there was no way you weren’t going. So you caught the first plane you could from the base you were staying at.

You’re feelings were all over the place. Steve had been your best friend for more than the past decade. You were the one there when he first woke up. You were the one to help him get situated. You were the one to help him whenever he needed, to go over to his little place in DC when he was having problems, like the time he thought he was having an asthma attack when it was an anxiety attack or when you had to help him find a new phone after he accidentally broke his.

You were that close to falling in love with him. But life went the other way and, in a weird twist of fate, almost as if the universe wanted to spare you of the heartbreak it knew would come if you gave your heart to the dashing captain, you ended up tripping over your own feet for someone else.

Someone you would never tell.

He was the last thing you had left of Steve and you couldn’t ruin that because of your stupid feelings. And you couldn’t ruin the relationship you had now because it was working. He trusted you, more than anyone else. He trusted you because Steve trusted you and you wouldn’t dare break that trust.

You just hoped, with everything going down in relation to the shield - to his legacy - that you’d be able to keep that promise you made to yourself.

You were in front of his door early in the morning - around four - hesitating to knock. It didn’t take long for him to respond the moment your fist did meet the door.

He looked…tired. You wished, oh how you wished, that you could do more. Anything more. He insisted you helped him plenty already; he claimed he never had nightmares when you were by his side. But it wasn’t enough. Not for what he’d been through. You felt as though you were merely putting a bandaid over a bullet wound.

His chocolate locks were short, above his ears. You could remember how hesitant yet eager he was about doing it. It was difficult to not cut his ear off because he kept moving in anticipation. You would know: you cut it. Those blue eyes that made you trip in the first place were outlined by thick lashes, dark ebony bags beneath them, making the azure pop. He was shirtless, as he usually was when sleeping (or at least trying to sleep), his dog tags resting against his sternum. 

You could tell he hadn’t been sleeping. His eyes were bloodshot as if he was watching TV for too long and his hair was less messy than it would be if he actually slept.

The moment his eyes found yours, his plump, chapped lips turned up into the grin he reserved for you and he was pulling you in. Your reaction was instantaneous, your arms slipping around his waist, your chin resting on his shoulder as he found home in the crook of your neck.

He was touch deprived. You knew this, but you never brought it up. Especially considering you were one of the only people he touched willingly. You didn’t want him thinking he was broken, more so than he thought he was already. And you definitely didn’t want to push him into fixing himself. So you didn’t tell him, even though you were pretty sure he knew, and you just let him take the lead. 

Sometimes it meant he grabbed your hand in large crowds, or tucked you under his arm when he was threatened. Other times it meant laying his head in your lap when he was tired late at night, or a soft hug in greeting.

Hands slowly tracing his spine, fingers dancing up and down his back, you gave a small smile when you felt him practically purring in your embrace. You could never decide if he was more puppy or kitten. You used to make jokes about the three of them, Steve, Bucky, and Sam, being like a puppy, kitten, and bird that you had to reluctantly pet sit for a friend. You would give almost anything to be joking around like that with them when you went to visit Bucky in Wakanda with Steve.

“Buck?”

He hummed. You didn’t want to pull back, you wanted to stay connected with him for as long as possible, but you had to talk. You didn’t want to talk about it, because that would make it more real, but you had to. You had to.

“Have you seen the news recently?”

His eyebrows furrowed, his lips pulling down. “What happened? Is it Wanda?”

You looked down the hall, your lips pressed together tightly, before nodding inside. “We have to talk.”

He nodded, stepping back and pulling you inside. Seeing the makeshift bed on the floor against the far edge of the sofa made you inwardly sigh, but you didn’t say anything about it. Steve was the same way at first.

“Is she okay? Did you find her? Where-”

“It’s not Wanda.” Turning, you faced him, trying to control your own anger at the situation, knowing it wouldn’t help him any. “It’s…it’s about Steve.”

Those spectacularly blue eyes narrowed, bottom lip being sucked in between his teeth. “What about Steve?”

You gestured for him to come closer, holding out your hand in offering. He took it and followed you as you led him to the couch. A cleared throat and a deep breath later found you gently explaining what happened to him. That the government had taken back the shield and had given it to someone else. A ‘hero just for America’. A ‘new Captain America’.

You could see his features harden with every word, his jaw ticking dangerously, his chest heaving and his nostrils flaring. You squeezed his hand as you finished. “He’s got meetings and stuff with senators and governors. They’re taking him on a tour this week. They-they want me to meet him, considering I’m the last of the original seven. Active on Earth, at least.”

The tears that started forming in his eyes made you swallow your own emotions down thickly. He didn’t need your hatred of this wannabe to fuel his own. He needed your support and comfort. He needed to know you’d be by his side through this.

“Are you?”

You blinked, not expecting his first words to be that question. “Am I what?”

“Going to meet with him?”

“I-I…” You stopped talking, knowing that if you continued you’d end up ranting about how he wasn’t your captain. How he could never be your captain. Debating answers, you decided on a simple, blunt reply. “No.”

“Why…” 

Running your thumb over his knuckles, you leaned over slowly to press a chaste kiss to his bare skin and blood shoulder. “Take your time. Collect your thoughts.”

He responded to your words by taking a deep breath, clenching his eyes shut, his jaw so tight you feared he might chip his teeth. It was a tense minute before he said anything, the room being filled with his harsh breathing. “You said he gave them the shield.”

“What?”

“Yesterday. You told me he gave up the shield. They put it in the Smithsonian. But you just said they took it from him.”

“He did give it to them, but-”

“Why?” His eyes snapped open, his features twisting into ones of frustration and resentment. “Why’d he give it to them?”

You shook your head, knowing Sam didn’t mean for any of that to happen. He had called you a few weeks ago to ask about your opinion on the matter. You told him that Steve trusted him, and you trusted Steve, so if Sam thought that was the right thing to do…you trusted him. “It’s not Sam’s fault. Don’t be mad-”

“Don’t be mad?! Don’t be mad?!” Bucky shot up, ripping his hand away from yours, making you bite your lip and hang your head as he paced in front of you. “Steve gave it to him! And he just gives it away like he’s regifting a shitty frisbee as a Christmas present! And you don’t want me to be mad?! Are you fucking kidding me, Y/N?!”

Cringing at the use of your name, which you rarely hear fall from his lips, especially in vexation like just then, you looked up at him, eyes pleading. “Bucky, I get it. I do. I’m mad, too. I’m-I’m furious. But you can’t blame Sam. Please. He just - he’s trying, Buck. Just like me. Just like you. We’re all trying.”

Bucky’s shoulders fell as he stared at you, eyes darting from feature to feature as he studied your face. Before you could say anything else, he was on the floor in front of you, in between your legs, arms wrapped around your waist and face pressed into your stomach.

You could tell he was holding something back - something big - but you wouldn’t push him. You never did. Displaying feelings was always hard for him, even in the early 1900’s; Steve used to tell you stories when you were looking for him after the fiasco in DC. Bucky grew up being the oldest of four and the only boy. On top of that, his best friend was a scrawny, stubborn, punching bag of a boy. According to Stevie, neither of them really learned how to cope or how to deal with feelings. And it showed. Boy, did it show.

Instead of getting on him and asking what was wrong and begging for him to talk to you, your fingers tangled in his hair, nails scratching his scalp, as you sat back to make the position more comfortable for him.

“Stay with me. I need you.”

You leaned down to press a soft kiss to his head, nodding into his hair. “I’ll stay. For as long as you need me, Buckaroo.”

Taglist (OPEN):

@happygoreading​, @thatsdarwinism​, @satellitespidey​

[trashywormeateroffics]

The right universe.

Summary: After Y/N's life turns upside down, she's full of grief. Somehow, one day, she manages to travel to the MCU, where she meets her favorite characters, including a certain god who seems willing to establish a friendship with her. Suddenly she's enwrapped in this new world, where everything she loved in a screen is now reality. How will she react? Will she be able to deal with the ghosts that haunt her? Or will she let them consume her? Will she be open to accept the love she is offered? Read to find out!

Read this on AO3! 

Category: F/M.

Relationships: Loki/reader.

Characters: Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Sam Wilson (Marvel), James "Bucky" Barnes, Vision (Marvel), Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Stephen Strange, Nick Fury, Maria Hill, Bruce Banner, Thor (Marvel), Clint Barton, Steve Rogers, Peter Parker, other minor appearances of other characters but these are the main ones, Pepper Potts, Loki (Marvel).

Additional tags: Loki/reader - Freeform, Avenger Loki (Marvel), Loki & Tony Stark Friendship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Fluffyfest, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Pining a lot because we love to suffer, Domestic Avengers, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark is a parental figure, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Everyone is a good bro, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, y/n, After Infinity War but no one died and the purple bitch was defeated, Missions, Y/N is a universe traveller, Grief, Therapy, Protective Loki (Marvel), Loki in love.

MASTERLIST OF THE STORY

Chapter 43: Halloweentown. 

“C'mon Lokes, it's cool.” He rolled his eyes. For the past hour, she had been trying to convince Loki that halloween celebrations were cool and not a stupid midgardian tradition, as he called it. “It's totally your style.”

“And what, pray tell, is exactly my style?”

“You know, hot people stuff. Cool clothes, scary vibes. Candy.” He snorted.  

“Are you trying to convince me to go to a party with candy?”

“Is it working?” She asked, wiggling her eyebrows. He bit his lip to stop himself from grinning.

“Mmm, I am not sure.” He said, feigning thoughtfulness. “I am going to need something more… convincing.”

“Mmm and what, pray tell, could that be?” She said, imitating his lexicon as she slided closer to him on the bed. He smirked.

“What do you have to offer?” This time, she smirked.

“Whatever you want, baby.” Groaning, he crashed his lips onto hers and slid his hands down her back to grip her ass making her moan.

“I am gonna have to punish you for calling me that darling…” She bit his lower lip and his eyes almost rolled all the way back to his head.

“I can't wait,” she said, and just as she was about to kiss him again, someone knocked on the door. They both grunted in annoyance. “Who is it?” She asked, still on Loki's lap.

“Y/N, quit making out with Loki and come give us your opinion on something!” Nat said from the other side of the door.

“I was not making out with Loki!”

“Yeah sure,” she could picture the redhead rolling her eyes. “I could hear you two from the living area.” They both snorted and got up. When she opened the door, the spy raised her eyebrows at the god and Y/N huffed.

“I'm here, what is it?”

“They are discussing the name for Tony's Halloween party.” Loki was about to roll his eyes when Y/N jumped on the spot and clapped her hands.

“I have so many ideas!” She said, excited. “Lets go!”

                                     -----------------------------

They were currently at the party, which ended up being called “Halloweentown” by Y/N's suggestion. Everyone liked it, except for Sam, who had suggested calling it “Spook-tacular”. And talking about the angry man…

“Hey Sammy!” She said grinning.

“Don't even,” he responded, trying to act serious.

“C'mon Sammy, you know you love me…” He rolled his eyes but smiled.

“Whatever, my name was better than yours.”

“Yeah uh-huh, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“My friends!” Thor, dressed as Cap, boomed in excitement approaching the two of them. “Mr. Falcon, you look great, and Lady Y/N, what can I say? Absolutely stunning as always. I love the hair!” She smiled bashfully, she was dressed as Cruella de Vil so she had to buy a half black half white wig to go with the look.

“Thank you Thor,” Y/N told him as Sam clapped him on the shoulder. “Where is your brother by the way?”

“Oh he is coming, I believe he was struggling with his costume.” He said knowingly. Y/N grinned.

“Oh, okay…”

Everyone started to arrive, except… Suddenly, she saw him. Begrudgingly entering the floor were the party was being held, Loki looked like he was being forced to listen to a John Mayer song for thirty six hours non stop, but what caught the team's attention was not that, since it was his usual expression except when he was looking at Y/N, it was, instead, the costume he had on. He was wearing a onesie with Dalmatian patterns and he had pulled up his hood that had dog ears on it to finish the look. Y/N burst out laughing as soon as he approached everyone.

“Looking good Reindeer Games,” Tony said, barely containing his laughter. The others didn't even try and burst out laughing just as Y/N. Loki rolled his eyes. He could not believe he had agreed to this, he truly was in love huh?

“Loki,” Wanda said between laughs. “What did Y/N do to you?”

“In my defense, he looks adorable.” She told the witch, smiling. The god sighed and shook his head.

“I will get my revenge.”

“Yeah sure love.” In that moment, Loki felt like the whole universe had stopped. Love, she called him. Love. He would have cried then and there if it wouldn't have looked ridiculous. “Loki,” she called him, frowning. Everyone else was engrossed in their own conversations. “Are you okay?”  

“Y-yes, I am.” She was still frowning so he smiled softly at her. “I promise you, I am okay.”

He would never break a promise, not to her, and she knew that, so she nodded.

“Wanna dance?” Y/N asked him.

“If you ask me in such a way…” He joked and she rolled her eyes, smiling.

“My Prince, would you do me the honour of joining me for a dance?” She said in a posh accent, stretching out her hand. He grabbed it.

“I would love nothing more.”

                                             -----------------------------

“God, I'm hammered.” Tony said, flopping down on the couch. The last guest had left a minute ago and now everyone was laying around, either on the floor or on one of the couches.

“Mhm,” Nat agreed with him. The other ones just grunted. Everyone drank a bit more than the healthy amount and they all danced like there was no tomorrow.

“Okay guys I'm exhausted,” Y/N said, getting up from the floor. Loki followed suit.

“I wonder where Reindeer Games is going now…” Loki cleared his throat, uncomfortable, and she felt herself getting hotter and hotter from embarrassment.

“Shut up Stark, leave the two lovebirds alone.” Sam said mockingly.

“Goodnight Samantha, sleep well alone in your bed.” Y/N told him and everyone laughed at his expression of absolute betrayal.

“Fine, if this is how it's gonna be…” She laughed and blew him a kiss as she left hand in hand with Loki.

                                           ----------------------------

They were both lying on the bed, facing each other and just… admiring the other.

“You called me love,”

“What?” She asked, furrowing her brows.

“You called me love back at the party.”

“I- I did?”

“Mhm,” he nodded, a tiny smile forming on his lips.

“And you… How did you…” She sighed.

“I liked it, I liked being called love by you.” Y/N smiled softly and got closer to him.

“Well, you are my love.” She said, making him bite his lip to stop himself from crying. He felt so loved with her. And he loved her so much, words could never describe it. “Loki, it's okay.”

“What?” He asked, a bit choked up.

“It's okay if it makes you cry.” He pursed his lips and chuckled breathily.

“It does not make me cry.”

“Okay, but if it did it would be okay.” Suddenly he felt a tear fall from his eye, all the way to his nose and then to his cheek, falling on the pillow. “Love,” she said and he sniffled, burying his face in her neck. “It's okay, I love you, I'm sorry.” She wasn't saying sorry for something she did, she was saying sorry because she was sorry that he went through so much in his life, that he went through years and years of not feeling loved. And as his shoulders trembled and his tears stained her collarbone, she made a promise to herself. She would make him get used to this. 

~taglist~ @mischief2sarawr @midnights-ramblings @paetonnn @tohellwiththedevill 

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Rectify: Part 3

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

As requested by anonymous: It would be awesome if you could make a tfatws Bucky fic or series where the reader is on the list for his making amends because the winter soldier did something to her or someone she loves, and once he gets close to her in some way he ends up falling for her and it’s really angsty but a happy ending !!

A/N: FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER SPOILERS AHEAD!!! also, NO TAGLIST WILL BE AVAILBLE.

A/N2: this is a little hard. there's some violence, angst, and bucky has an anxiety attack.

Part 1 Part 2

"P-Please! We don't have them! We destroyed them!" the man suffering under the Soldier's hold rasped out. The man's own hands trying to rip the metal arm off his neck. The Soldier turned the man around, putting him in a chokehold. The man stared into the frightened, weeping wife. There was a snap and the man fell limp.

The woman across the room cried harder as the Soldier marched over to her. She looked up into his emotionless eyes, "Why are you doing? We don't have anything any more! Just tell them we don't have them!"

The Soldier pulled out his silencer and stared deep into the woman's eyes. He pointed the gun at her and spoke clearly, "Hail Hydra." he pulled the trigger and the women fell onto the floor, a splatter of blood smearing down the wall. He pocketed his gun and took another look at the woman, but her face changed.

It was you.

Bucky gasped as he shot up from his place on the floor. It was still dark, but the tv illuminated the room. Bucky was panting, a sheen of sweat covering his care torso.

He ran his vibranium arm through his cropped hair, trying to catch his breath. He swiped up his phone from the floor and mindlessly dialed your number. It rang a few seconds before you answered with a rasped voice, "Bucky?"

He mentally cursed, not even thinking about how you'd be asleep right now.

"Bucky? Is everything okay?"

He gulped and rasped out, "Yeah. Sorry I woke you."

"Was it a nightmare?"

It had been three months since you first met and started talking. Bucky had told you once that he still gets plagued with nightmares, recollections of his time...contracting. He told you that he goes to therapy, but he doesn't think it helps him that much.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" your voice a little bit more clear now.

Yes. "No, it's okay. I'll let you go back to sleep." I'm sorry. It's my fault. I killed your parents. It's my fault.

"Are you sure?"

No. "I'm sure. I'll talk to you later, Y/N."

"Okay, Bucky. Remember that I'm here for you and I care about you okay?"

You shouldn't. "Okay."

"Good night."

"Night." he ends the call and let's his hands fall from his hand and clatter onto the wooden floor.

Bucky started feeling this heaviness in his chest, it was starting to become hard to breath. His tears started to water and he let out a whimper.

He's messed up so much. In the past months he's gotten to know you, become your friend, it made it increasingly hard to tell you the truth. He couldn't stop himself from being drawn to you. You weren't just a name on a list. He couldn't believe he tried to resort you to something so simple when you were anything but. But because of that, he's now put into a difficult situation and no matter what, someone's going to end up getting hurt.

__________________________

Bucky's been distant and you're not sure why. For the past two weeks you've hardly seen him or heard from him. You're curious if something happen, but, because you're such a caring person, you left him messages letting him know that you hope he's doing okay and that you're there for him.

It's after two weeks of silence that you see him again.

He approaches you at the cemetery Sunday afternoon when you're seeing your parents.

He's wearing the black leather jacket that you see him wear often. He wears a hoodie underneath it, and the hood is drawn up. Despite the gorgeous weather out, he looks like he has his own personal rain cloud looming over him.

You shoot up and meet him halfway, arms wrapping around him in a tight hug, "Bucky! Oh my gosh! It's so good to see you! I was so worried!"

You pull back to look at him and he looks so solemn, "Bucky," you breath out his name, "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry for disappearing like that. I've-I've just been having a rough few weeks."

"It's okay, Bucky. I understand. Given the things you've gone through, it's understandable that you might go through these things." you put your hand on his arm and squeeze, "But it's okay. You're here now." you then slip your hand into his and pull him towards your parents' plot, "C'mon. Sit with me."

You feel Bucky hesitate and you shoot him a warm smile, "It's okay."

Alarms are going off in Bucky's head as he follows you to your set up.

You should tell her now! You can't keep prolonging it! You just have to accept the consequences of your actions! His and yours!

But he doesn't listen.

No. Not today. I'll tell her. I promise. Just....let me have this with her. One last time.

So that's what he does. He doesn't talk much, letting you do all the talking. You update him on the things that he missed during his two week hiatus. He'd occasionally ask questions for clarity, but other than that he just sat there relishing in your presence and the joy you radiate.

He munches on the snacks you share with him, giving you nods of understanding and gratefulness. There's a moment, after you've both eaten all of the food that a silence washes over you two. It's not an awkward one. It's light and comfortable. For a moment, Bucky feels one hundred percent at peace. The sun is shining. The birds are chirping. There's a slight breeze that cancels out the heat the sun provides.

He's looking up at the sky and smiles.

He freezes when he feels warmth press to his cheek. It's not the sun, no. It's your lips. But is there a difference?

He gulps and looks at you when you pull away. You suddenly look really shy, looking down and avoiding his gaze, "Sorry. I don't-I shouldn't have done that."

Just let me have this moment....before I ruin it all.

"Y/N?" Bucky calls out your name and you look up. He suddenly leans over and cups your face with his hands and his lips are on yours. You're shocked for about a second, but then you fall into the kiss. You grip the lapels of Bucky's jacket and you pull him closer. You two end up falling, you backwards and him forwards.

"Oomf!" you say against his lips and he pulls away with a chuckle, "Sorry," he replies in a low murmur.

You softly smile up at him as his face hovers over yours, "It's okay." You two stay in the position, eyes wandering over each other's face, until you speak up again, "I really like you, Bucky."

Then the air changes.

His eyes harden and he climbs off of you and onto your feet, "I'm sorry."

You clamber into a stand, confusion written all over your face, "Wait, Bucky. I'm sor-"

"I have to go." he stuffs his hands into pockets and he's walking away, leaving you alone, too shocked to comprehend what exactly just happened.

[ssa-steverogers]

TFATWS EPISODE 4 SPOILERS BELOW

guys can we just please fucking appreciate episode 4 of the falcon and the winter soldier? jesus fucking christ this episode was so fucking good and we got so much out of it and oh god ohhhh godddd i hate john walker but the episode was so good that i’m about to cry

the opening scene? you can literally see bucky “freeing” himself as he is finally able to resist the words and then the scene cuts to ayo and bucky from the previous episode and she says “how could you free him?” about zemo. which TO ME feels like that means a lot to bucky knowing that he has a lot of self doubt about his character. it’s almost as if the question is asking how could bucky have freed the winter soldier. ya feel? also there’s a lot of talk about bucky ‘not knowing’ that the wakandans could just disengage his arm like that. when bucky says ‘no’ to sam asking if he knew they could do that, my interpretation of that is bucky was being honest. sure, the arm wasn’t embedded into his skin or fused into his shoulder so bucky probably knew there was a way to take it out. but did he know that they could easily disengage it while in combat? probably not.

i also think that no ones intention was to kill anyone. karli is obviously young and i don’t think she had ever intended to start killing people like this but because she is young, things tend to get messy faster rather than not. it starts with the bombing at the GRC with the defense of “this is the only language these people understand” then it was lemar. prior to lemar, there were hardly accidental kills or any kills at all. but when people are threatened, it is instincts to attack back with more power. karli threatens sam’s sister, even though she had just lost mama donya (which is making her more emotional/compulsive) so she knows full well how important family is but chose to be the ‘bad person’ here. so then john walker killed karli’s second in command after she killed lemar and so instinctively, karli will get more aggressive in order to reach her goal. i cant wait to see how she tries to control/justify what she will do next???? like sam agrees with karli’s ideals but at what point will he realize that she must be stopped at all means possible and that zemo was kinda right?????

anyways! john walker! he! doesn’t! deserve! the! shield! never! did! never! will! “the serum amplifies everything that is inside. so, good becomes great. bad becomes worse. [...] because a strong man, who has known power all his life, will lose respect for that power.” -dr. abraham erskine in captain america: the first avenger, about the super soldier serum. we’ve only just met john walker but most of us hate him lol and he is sus. but from the beginning he’s already an over achiever, already experienced in being honored for doing something good. now, the only difference is that there is a label on him. but we can also see that he’s kinda full of shit rage. he’s visibly angry when nobody would talk in episode 3 when they raid the safe house that karli was in. so once he took the super soldier serum, he’s stronger, sure. but now the rage is also enhanced. he wrongfully killed karli’s second in command in an act of rage. sure, his partner was just killed but if you’re a representation of ‘hope’, you can’t blatantly kill someone the way he did.

anyways the scene that walker kills the guy???? PARALLEL1!!1!1!1!1!!1 steve rogers in captain america: civil war raises his shield on tony stark and brings it down onto the arc reactor of his iron man suit when that could have easily been a fatal blow to the head. even when enraged enough to fight against a close teammate to protect a brother figure, steve had enough strength to pull himself back and say, ‘hey this isn’t what i stand for.’ unlike walker, who kills the guy without hesitation in a moment of pure rage. there’s nothing in him that is doubting that killing the wrong man is bad. walker’s putting the shield into the guys face and chest, repeatedly as he’s begging for his life. and when he’s done, the shield is covered in blood. it’s the blood, the eccentricity, the consequences of taking the serum, everything is on his hands (and on the thing he is supposed to represent).

can i also just say how much i love the directing style of this episode? camera movement is actually so important to filmography and i am not a professional or anything but i love appreciating the skills 🥺 like when lemar is killed, the camera pans onto sam and bucky. it’s like the world stops for a bit as you hear the snap of his neck. the pause in everything as you hear walker trying to wake lemar up. then, everyone runs. now, even though walker is fighting karli’s guy, the camera movement is no longer aggressively moving like a fight scene usually is. instead, it’s mostly steady, showing the goal that walker is determined to reach.

OH GOD AND ZEMO. idk how to feel about him. i love him but i also hate him???? fksjsjwkjdkx his dancing makes me want to forgive him but he’s also an idiot with an agenda???? but his DANCING. omg and episode 4 is named the world is watching and omggggg that means that the video of walker must have gone fucking viral for SURE i mean obviously it did but OH MY FUCKING GOD. god i have so many things to say about this episode and i can’t fucking wait for episode 5 omg but i’m just rambling at this point lol

[anika-ann]

In the Strangest Place (We Just Might Find Love) - Pt.2

Type: two-shot, pretty much canon

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader     Word count: 2750

Summary: You’re hiding from your boss in a supply closet, minding your own business, when a stranger joins you unexpectedly.

Steve is not entirely a stranger anymore; he knows about your troubles and you know about his. And he’s determined to sort out yours this very moment.

Warnings: mention of sexual harassment, a bit of angst, language, something that might be close to a panic attack if you squint

A/N: There we go... hopefully I’ll make mid-week a bit sweeter for some of you ;)

Part 1

“Alright, kids. Let’s have a trip.”

And you just stared.

…what?

“W-what?” you stuttered, suddenly consumed by the familiar feeling of losing the firm ground under your feet at the idea of trying to confront Gregory head-on. Not even Steve at your side was helping at all as the four of you started walking towards the IT department.

“I-I don’t have any prove! I can’t-- he told me he would--- that he would-”

“That he’d twist it around, convince the HR that you were crushing on him and he turned you down, which turned you into a soulless bitch craving revenge?” the billionaire finished for you and you just uselessly opened you mouth, unable to let out a word to deny it. It seemed to amuse him, because he scoffed; and there was something very bitter in that sound too. “Kid, he’s not the first asshole to take advantage of his superior position. I’ve seen the types. Relax. If Cap here believes you, then so do I. Plus, I know a liar when I see one. And you ain’t lying.”

You breathed in shakily, a flicker of hope igniting in your chest. Could it really be so easy? That couldn’t be right…

“T-thank you, Mr. Stark. I-”

“Yeah, yeah, just name your first kid after me,” Mr. Stark uttered, waving it off.

The Falcon next to you chuckled and you shot Steve a confused gaze. Was that how Mr. Stark usually was? You had never met him in person; you had only ever heard him giving a speech on TV and you knew he had a certain reputation, but this was… different.

You were surprised to find Steve watching you; perhaps he worried about your reaction to such bluntness, since he had seen your outburst in the closet. Upon meeting your gaze – probably shy and undeniably surprised – he charmed a tiny smile for you.

“It’s gonna be okay, see?”

“What are you even worried about? You have three Avengers coming with you!” Mr. Wilson questioned lightly and you bit your lower lip as you thought of the source of anxiety indeed.

Yeah, I have three Avengers and they are all men. Sue me for not being sure which side they would take – not until now.

“You’re not a full-time Avenger, Wilson.”

Falcon gasped, clutching at his chest theatrically at Stark’s remark. “Ouch, Tony. My heart.”

You let out a breathy laugh at their banter and felt yourself relax despite your better judgement. You almost let yourself believe it truly would go alright. Well, as much as dealing with such shitty thing could.

“You’re all my heroes,” you whispered timidly, which earned you a bright smile from Sam Wilson.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Cruel, Birdboy. You stole the old man’s line,” Mr. Stark hummed, amused.

“Heh! Sorry, Cap. But I’m sure you have a whole set of other lines to use on her.”

You choked on your own spit as Steve faltered in his steps, his grip on you growing stronger. What the hell did the Falcon just say?

“Oh my God, Wilson, shut up before we get stuck with another harassment report.”

“I don’t think this a subject for joking,” Steve interjected, slightly irritated, and you shot him a grateful look, because he definitely had a point.

Except… once you weren’t in such a sticky situation, you totally wouldn’t mind Steve Rogers using a line on you. Not at all. And his hand around yours felt nice for multiple reasons, the wordless comfort and support only being one of them. It was warm and slightly calloused, a reminder of his physical work, and it was bigger than yours, so sweetly and distractingly enveloping yours…

But now it was so not the time.

Your peculiar group approached the office and you didn’t even have the time to brace yourself as Tony Stark simply threw the door open, not bothering to knock.

“Thomas Ian Gregory, you are fired this very second,” the billionaire exclaimed dramatically.

You would think he was just being a drama queen, except he sounded deadly serious, using your boss’ full name which he must have read out on the door, and his eyes were throwing daggers at the man sitting behind the desk, looking as if he was the fucking king of the world.

Your boss blinked in surprise and eyed all four of you; Falcon with his arms crossed on his chest, Ironman minus his suit with a murderous glare and a hand raised towards him as if he wanted to point a finger and then Gregory’s gaze fell on your hand connected with Steve’s; you wanted to retrieve it quickly, but Steve wouldn’t let you, his grip growing firm. Anger flashed through your boss’ eyes for a second, before he composed himself and rose from his chair with an innocently confused expression.

You wanted to puke and you felt your legs turning into a shaking mess of jello. This was it. Now he would use his slimy words to turn this situation around and you were about to get fired and humiliated so much that jumping under a bus would be the most likeable option for you.

“Mr. Stark, it’s an honour. Captain Rogers, Mr. Wilson. What do I owe the pleasure?”

You couldn’t believe this--- this pig. Seriously. Who the fuck did he think he was?! How could he--- just lie so easily, pretending that everything was perfectly fine?!

But Tony Stark was not fooled by the charade and you mentally sighed in relief, sure they must have heard the weight falling off of your shoulders even in Jersey.

“I’m sure you heard me, Mr. Gregory. You quit and you’ll be hearing from the HR soon. And you’ll be damn lucky if this young lady right here won’t sue you.”

You honestly wished you were invisible when Gregory’s gaze flickered to you, subtle anger with a promise of consequences in his irises – consequences that would come should you not cut this bullshit right now.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand, Mr. Stark. If this is about the unfortunate feelings my assistant has for me-”

Tears of rage and baseless shame stung in your eyes at his words and you breathed in sharply to defend yourself; before you could, Gregory continued.

“Though I can see they weren’t very… honest. Obviously my inferior seems to be the ‘love them and leave them’ type, which I should warn you about, Capta-”

Breathless at his malicious made-out theories, you did not expect Steve to drop your hand in favour to tower over your boss, making him shut up with one single glare.

Alright, you could see why he had thought that simply appearing at your office would make Gregory tremble in fear. Your boss actually backed off and learnt onto a table, looking as if he was supporting himself under the weight of Steve’s judgement.

“I met this woman for the first time not half an hour ago, hiding from you, too scared of your dirty hands to return to her own workplace. Trust me, it left an impression, just like you are leaving one now,” Steve grunted menacingly, causing your heart to pound in your chest in fright even with his words not aimed on you. “If I can give an advice, you pack your things as fast as you can, apologize to her profusely, begging for her forgiveness and you don’t set a foot in this building or speak to her ever again. Do we have an understanding?”

You weren’t the only one affected. Your boss tried to reciprocate Captain America’s glare, but he failed miserably. He visibly gulped and circled his desk, still watching the soldier as if he was expecting to get hit; then his eyes just dropped to his desk and he frantically started picking random things from it.

You watched the scene in front of you, paralyzed. Your heart was beating its way out of your chest, pulsing in your temples, your breathing alternating between hitching and picking up. Your vision started to swim.

Holy. Shit.

“Cap, I think you broke her.”

Steve spun to you at instant, his eyes roaming your face; or you thought so. He looked worried now; or you thought so. Thinking and frankly evaluating the stimuli your senses were receiving was a bit difficult at the moment.

What the hell had just happened?

Gentle hands took yours, leading you out of the room. You blindly followed, unsure how to put one foot in front of the other, your body running on autopilot.

It was over. Thomas Gregory was no longer your boss and it had happened without you losing your job. And Steve Rogers had scolded him as if he was a five-year old kid – a very pervert one, but a kid nonetheless. Steve put a fucking fear of God into him. All of that happening within three minutes. And you just… couldn’t quite process all that.

You barely registered getting into and out of an elevator, being seated on a couch, having a blanket tossed over your shoulders and a cup of warm liquid pressed into your hands. You automatically brought it to your lips, only to be stopped by a tender fingers curling around your wrist.

“Careful. It might be too hot,” a pleasant voice warned you and you blinked, finally focusing your gaze, finding rather worried and very handsome face staring back.

You glanced at the cup, surprised to identify the drink as Steve’s hand let go of yours.

“Is that… is that hot chocolate?” you stuttered, bewildered. Well, more like… astonished.

“Yeah. You’re not allergic to milk or anything, are you?”

You looked up back to Steve’s face, only to find him with his brows furrowed in concern, lips thoughtfully pursed. It snapped you to action.

“No! No. It’s just… I didn’t have one in years. Thank— thank you.”

His expression cleared, as he was evidently pleased with himself. “Good. You’re welcome.”

The words fell off his lips so easily. As if he just hadn’t… hadn’t saved your career. Or your mental health, really.

You eyed the table by the couch, setting the cup down, only to fully turn to him. He seemed a bit confused at that; but God, you had something important to say and since you didn’t want to give up the blanket just yet, you decided to get rid of the mug at least to look less pathetic.

“No, Steve, I… thank you,” you whispered sincerely, feeling tears in your eyes for like a millionth time that day. His smile widened a little.

“You’re welcome. I’m sorry if I… if I scared you down there. It wasn’t meant for you.”

“You didn’t-” you blurted out in attempt to deny it and make him feel better, only to waver as his eyebrow rose, picture perfect of doubt. It made you chuckle at yourself self-deprecatingly. “It’s not your fault that I was… surprised by your little hulk-out. I guess I just didn’t see it coming.”

“Hulk-out, huh? How do you feel?”

You shrugged, exhaling slowly, thinking hard about your answer.

“Like I just watched my life take a way better turn that I would expect... and I’m still only watching,” you whispered honestly, which led to his face twisting in a grimace.

“Anything I can do?”

You couldn’t help it; you scanned your surroundings, realizing you were in something that looked fancy enough to belong to Tony Stark and was way too big to be part of an actual apartment. You ran your hand down the blanket covering your shoulders, reaching for the abandoned cup to blow on it softly and take a careful sip of chocolate. Steve’s questioning gaze observed you while you did so and you smiled blissfully into the cup as the delicious rich taste caressed your tongue.

“You mean besides comforting me despite being a complete stranger, getting my harassing boss fired and scaring the hell out of him, taking me to--- here, giving me a blanket and making the best cup of hot chocolate I had in years? Give me a second, I’m sure I’ll figure out something else,” you babbled and Steve’s smile grew, tense shoulders relaxing. “Seriously, Steve. This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. I owe you. I- I know you’re a hero and all that, but… yeah. I should be asking you what I could do for you in return.”

“That’s not-- I’m not--- ...you make a pleasant company,” he said in the end as if he realized he couldn't deny any of the things you had listed. You lowered your gaze to the chocolate as his eyes twinkled at the statement.

“Ditto.”

“Does that-” he blurted out and you tilted your head to side, watching him curiously when he stopped talking just as abruptly. “This is a terrible timing, but that’s apparently an infamous quality of mine, because usually I wait too long, and… uhm…”

Your heart skipped a beat at the suddenly embarrassed soldier scratching the back of his neck, peeking at your through his eyelashes. Was that--- was he trying to-? No, it couldn’t be.

“Yeah?” you softly encouraged him to continue.

He wetted his lips, causing your previously tight gut to warm up.

“I understand that it’s the last thing you’re thinking about right now, but… when you settle down again... and things are a bit calmer for you… would you- uhm,  like to… maybe spend some more time with--- with me?”

If he had blurted the sentence in one go, you would have dropped your mug in surprise despite suspecting this incredible thing when he had turned bashful. But he didn’t so your brain had enough time to process the words slowly leaving his lips, one after another, little shy, little hopeful. Your heart was speeding up with each of them, ready to burst when he finished with a tiny nervous smile.

Well. How could you possibly say no to that irresistible creature in front of you? You smiled into your drink.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

His face lit up. “Really?”

You wanted to chuckle at the pure surprise on his face, but it was just too endearing and so you had to fight the urge to make an embarrassing sound like an aww instead.

“Yeah, Steve. I’d really like that,” you repeated, hiding the teasing note in your voice. “But you’ve got to teach me how to make a chocolate that good, because seriously, it tastes amazing.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” you demanded, a bit hurt, rather surprised. “I don’t want you to give up your secret recipe right away! Just… in time.”

He grinned at you boyishly, leaning a bit closer to you. You held your breath in anticipating, a the change. “I could. But then I wouldn’t get to enjoy the process of preparing it for you and your smile in return.”

You stared at him for few moments, taking the statement in, wondering if he was teasing you or was being serious. The corners of his lips were quirked up as if he was indeed joking, but there was a certain spark of honesty in his eyes.

You decided to play along, whether it was a game or not. Perhaps it was the relief of newly found freedom from a sleazy man in your life that plucked up your courage and woke up your jovial side.

“Aww, Steve, that’s so sweet. Is that your way of telling me you’re planning on spoiling me? Because then I would need significantly less time to… settle down.”

His grin widened at your words. “Is that so?”

“Mm.”

“Well then…” he brought up lowly, torturing you with anticipation when he didn’t continue, only to watch you with a mischievous smile.

“...then?”

“What are your plans for Friday evening?”

Oh, you were so glad you were sitting, because otherwise the force of the moment in which Steve Rogers asked you out on Friday night would knock you down.

You tried to think of an answer that wouldn’t sound like an over-enthusiastic YES, but his blue eyes staring into yours made it very difficult for you.

Dammit, it was harder to talk to him when you could actually see--- you smiled smugly at the idea that popped up in your head and raised an eyebrow in silent challenge.

“I’m hiding in a supply closet. Why, you wanna join me?”

Steve burst out laughing, throwing his head back with that sound and the picture armed your heart so thoroughly it was unfair.

“Sure thing. Would you like me to bring muffins and coffee or do you prefer an actual dinner?”

You found yourself laughing too and you suddenly believed that your life would indeed get better. It already had, after all.

S.R. masterlist

Beautiful divider by @whimsicalrogers 

Thank you for the kind feedback on the first part and I hope you liked this one too :))

Thank you for reading!

[starshipsofstarlord]

Jim and Jody - Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary; it was one of the biggest decisions of your life, but will you change your mind before your future is sealed?

Warnings; angst, mentions of abortion (everyone is permitted to do what they want with their body, in this imagine the reader wants to keep the baby, but pro choice, as everyone deserves control over their bodies and all 🤍), brief mention of sex and threats

Masterlist Link

To see him so relaxed, so completely and utterly himself was a paradise all on its own. There was a heaviness aboard your shoulders, but as you watched him goof tirelessly about, you had no other concerns, not even as you subconsciously raised your hand over your stomach. You shook your head at the sentiment, the two of you had already made the decision to abort this child, it was unknown how the poor fellow would turn out to be; with the combination of your powers and his super everything, it was sure to be quite the complication, and not one that you supposed was to be an easy course.

A smile pried at your face, simply from viewing him with the pack of children, the wind from the docks swept your hair into your face, and in turn, you swept the locks out and away from your vision, so that you had further access to watch the man that you loved in his absolute element. Through the years, past and recent, he had lost so much, and this child was just to be another mantle on the wall of memorial in his mind, it was sad really. If the two of you were normal, with average and lives that had perceptions with no regards of being heroic, there’d be no query about it, you’d keep the baby.

That life though, to your grave misfortune, did not exist, it was merely a fantasy living painfully inside of your mind, haunting you whenever you closed your eyes, with the flashing images of a resolution and end to the errors in your lifestyle. There’d be a big house, yet nothing to prissy, just enough room for the pair of you and few children of your own, a grand garden with a swing set and sand pit, where the infants could grow up and play in once they were older. Then there’d also be a shed for Bucky to work on small projects, such as attaining some love and care to his motor bike, as well as storing the supplies that he’d need to do so.

All that is a universe away, muffled from possibility by the stars expediting through the gorgeous veil of the galaxy, corrupting the possibilities of ever gaining access to such... peace. That was the one thing that the pair of you wanted, however catching a break was rather rare within your predicament. A stifled laugh reeled from the conjunction of your lips as you simply and endearingly surveyed how the boys, specifically Sam’s nephews hung from the vibranium branch of his arm. It was all your attention was focused on, until an extra person took a seat on the picnic table beside you, his sweet yet musky scent detailing whom it was. “If your not going to eat that, I’m sure Barnes Junior might want an opinion on that.”

The underlining of the words caused an abstract grimace to forlorn your features, as you stared not at the speaker of whom you were close with, but instead the slather of cake that was planted on a paper plate before you, the icing beginning to become slightly sick from the beating of the viable son. “You’re glowing, you know? Motherhood is a good look on you y/n/n, I wouldn’t be so soon to let that go.” Your fingers pried at the dismantled crumbs off your section of desert as you looked to your new captain, a resonating conformation fo bridled suffering and hopelessness clouding your view of his attempt at making you atone before you made a sin that you’d forever regret.

He, like many others, knew that the family life was what you wanted; you wanted to be your child’s hero, tending to their each necessary (and unnecessary) need, them being your main focus and project and life. Instead, you had been handed your options on a short stick, and thus, your decision, albeit somewhat of a sensible one, didn’t make it hurt any less. “Sam.” You spoke his name, observing from the corner of your eye how Bucky paraded around the dock with Jim and Jody. It’d be nice to give him a slice of this kinda life, he was thriving as an adult around children, you could only imagine him in the case of this one being birthed into the world. “It’s not that easy.”

“No one said it was going to be easy.” Sam responded quickly, affirming your fears to your nerve wrecked face. “I get it, I do. People will be after this kid, and that is no way to live, but you two aren’t alone in any of this, nor will you be in that. You have me, along with many other old friends of ours, hell even the Wakandan’s. Do you really want to sacrifice this one life so you can continue living this one? You and Bucky have both lost so much, you don’t have to force yourself to willingly give away something else. The decision can be changed the last minute, it’s a lot to take in, I get that, but I see the way Buck is with my nephews, and how you watch them when you think nobody’s looking over at you. With your state pardon, you two can retire, and go far away, and abandon everything for this one little guy or gal, because I know that if you do, no matter what, they’ll be worth it.”

Bucky wailed a warrior’s shout as Jim and Jody playfully struck him down, his unsheathed metal hand grasping at the cloth that was tightly aboard his addictive chest. He rolled on the ground as the children ran to retrieve their toy lightsabers, leaving him to be expendable against their weapons. There was a giddy and fitting smile smouldering his usual stoic expression. It was no wander why he found calm in visiting Sam and his sister’s small, and accepting family. The kids brought out another side of him, which he had been tortured to refrain from showing, but you had seen, and were contemplating many things within your mind. You were lapping up the image, as though you were dehydrated and the sight of him appeased by the company of young ones was a source of water.

Sam was right, he always was and had been. “The decision was on both of our parts, you don’t think Buck’ll change his mind, or do you?” You were invested in getting a responsive answer, yet the man spluttered a laugh at your confused expense. He heaved for a moment, bracing his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. There was nothing stopping him from gaining it back, unlike Bucky whom had grabbed a saber of his own and lightly began to paddle against the one that was directed against him, other than another round of hysterics that abandoned him. A reasonable smile resonated a comfortable position upon the former falcon’s face, as he tentatively patted your knee, watching as you broke off a small rupture of cake and popped it in your mouth, feeding not only yourself but the inmate within your womb.

“There isn’t really much for me to say, it’s easy, look at him. He will be fine with whatever decision that the pair of you succumb to, after all, it’s your body, but it will pain him like nothing else ever has if you go through with the abortion, and if not, then trust me, we’ve both seen how hard he fights; think of that but ten times the mass in consideration of this baby, because I am certain that he’d do anything for them. He lost his entire family when he awoke from his mode of hydra assassin, this could be him getting it back. Different members, but a family all the same.” He stole a little of your cake, making you lightly elbow him as a smirk rendered a beauty upon his face.

“What’s that going to make you, the patriotic uncle who just can’t keep himself from flashing his shield?” Now it was his turn to retaliate, he lightly scuffed your ankle with a feather light tap of the toe of his shoe, causing you to promiscuously roll your eyes. “I’m joking, that was Steve’s aesthetic, this new version of cap is your baby, I have great faith in you to make this world a better and safer place. The funny thing is, when you finally accepted that shield was yours, that’s when my mind shifted to the possibility of keeping this kid. It was and has always been a sign of hope and protection to Bucky, maybe it could be the same for our little one. It was just a thought, I’m not meaning to put pressure on your or anything bu-“

“I get it, and I’m honoured. And if that is how it seems, then I want you to know that I’ll be there to protect them too. The main bump in the road for now is for you to talk to that grumpy ass boyfriend of yours and figure this sperm plus egg equation out, send Jim and Jody over here, I got somethin’ to show those two anyway.” With a nod and a grateful pat upon your friend’s head, you slowly plodded over to where Bucky was being cornered against the side of the truck by the boys. His blue orbs danced around their small and imaginative beings, until they landed on you, it was as though his pupils were calling out for help, begging for you to spare some mercy upon him.

“Jim, Jody, your uncle Sammy has something for you two to see.” They groaned lightly, having been pulled away from the narrative of their play time, but nevertheless their faces were clean slates as they expressed hyper smiles, and bolted their route towards their mother’s sibling, carrying their lightsaber replicas along with them. “Two kids beat an infamous, deadly badass with a metal arm. I think you might be getting too old for these kinda battles Buck, you were losing, and quite terribly if I say so myself.” Crossing your arms, as he came to an upright stand, hoisting himself off the ground, so that he could be more level with you.

“Yeah, yeah, rub it in. Thought you were supposed to be supportive of me and all that, as you said to Zemo, you’d quite happily cut his dick off if he compared me to the shadow that I used to be.” His brow raised, as he reminisced on the thought of you threatening Zemo; it was hot, and certainly had gotten him going, which had shortly left you in this predicament, trying to save the world and execute the one last thing that exhumed hope to either one of you. The baby. It was almost a certain and solid fact that the little one inside of you had been procreated on the Baron’s private jet, more specifically, the small and clean bathroom that had became dirty with your primal sins.

“And I still regret not doing that, he’d have had much less leverage in any sense of the word of phallic if he had it sectioned off.” Silence emitted between the two of you, although a humoured smirk tantalised upon Bucky’s graceful face. For a change, he was not prompting the expression of a grumpy cat that was refused its nip, no, instead he could be compared to a future - actually, he already was a father to the bean held in the shield of your body, having been an ample ingredient in bringing the small person into being. “So, you having fun with Sarah’s kids, sure looks like you were quite in your element before I cut in.”

“I’m always in my element when you’re around doll.” He smiled, wrapping his uncoordinated hands around the oval of your waist, and tugging you sentimentally closer, your hips bumped with his, as your eyes ogled infatuatedly up at him. “They’re great kids, makes me realise exactly what we’re gonna be missing out on.” Bucky gulped, sparks of emotion taunted the behind of his eyes, like saucers of resentful fire. “You’d be the perfect mother, you know that right? After all you’ve done for me, you’ve nurtured me close to the man that I once was, the only difference is that I want to settle, but I don’t know how to go about dropping everything. This kid is killing me, he’s making me question everything.”

“That’s what kids are supposed to do, unborn, or very much avidly attacking grown men with false lightsabers.” Bucky deeply into your frustrated and corresponding eyes, your hands reaching up to play defiantly with the smooth dip in his chin that could be seen through the shading of his light stubble. “What if we did have a Jim and Jody of our own some day? We could keep him or her, they’d be our greatest concern, we don’t have to go down this painful and longing, rusted road. We could bring something good into this world, protect them against all forces that threaten to disrupt their life, I want this with you Bucky. We could move far far away, or go somewhere close to home.”

“Brooklyn.” He stated, causing a line to crease gently in the plain of his forehead. “I want to call them Brooklyn, if I am to fight the rest of my life for something, I want it to be my home. Last time I had to leave there, but it’s my amends to never leave this child of ours, if we’re going to do this, we need to put them in front of everything, and I mean everything.” He spoke, in reference to the other avengers and other aliases that you had stood by for so long. Bleakly you nodded, grasping his jaw down for an amorous kiss, humming against the palette of his lips, as your hands entwined behind his neck, pulling his face closer to your own, prompting his tongue to travel deeper within the realm of your mouth.

“Brooklyn is a nice name. How about Brooklyn Margaret Barnes? I think that has quite the ring to it.” You offered, and he hardly reacted, instead quickly appraising a pleasant smile onto the canvas of his work of art face, as he ducked his head down, conjoining the pair of you into a passionate and meaningful collide of your lips. Sam smiled as he watched the pair of you, pointing at you two from afar, as his nephews from afar. He was giving them a man to men talk, offering them advice that they would have valuable usage of in the future.

“Now that is love. You don’t give up for the one thing that connects you, and those two, well Bucky and y/n have been through a hell of a lot. They deserve this, and when you meet a woman when you’re older, and your mum is watching on towards the two of you, I want you to make her proud by treating your girl like a princess, willing to sacrifice everything simply to create the future that she wishes for you.” He emotionally wiped his eyes, rushing to stand before he grasped a lightsaber, leaving the other to spare for one of them. “Now Jim and Jody, which one of you will be my padawan?”

[ohmygoodnessgraciouss]

Reality Check - Chapter 6

Summary: Y/N and Wanda were very close after returning in 2023.  The two bonded over the loss of their partners.  It wasn’t enough to keep Wanda grounded after she found Vision’s body though, and Wanda wants the best for her friend.  Unfortunately for Y/N, this means she’s going to be thrown into a reality she wasn’t expecting.

Notes: Thank you all for your love and support!!  I love you guys so much and your feedback makes me smile.  It’s hard to reply to everyone but I’m keeping tabs on the taglist as much as possible.  I’ve noticed a few usernames are not being tagged on this post, so I’ll be sure to contact them.  Tumblr decided not to tag them I guess lol!  

Anyway, enjoy this new chapter.  I changed things a little bit.  We’re going a little off course of what I had before, hence the reason why this is late.  The chapter I had written at first is only being stocked away for the next chapter, which means it’ll be out sooner than this one did.  I promise! 

Happy Falcon and the Winter Soldier day, everyone! 

“Well Wanda, I gotta skitty before Loki starts wondering where I’m at,” You chuckled nervously.  Watching her fix the wall was incredible.  It was unlike anything you’ve seen before.  So unusual yet so familiar. 

Wanda smiled lightly at you.  “Alright, I understand.  But please feel free to come by anytime.  Whatever you need,” She said.  You smiled back at the woman. 

“Of course!  Maybe I’ll swing by in a couple of days to see the boys!” You waved goodbye to her and opened the door. 

You took your leave, closing the front door behind you.  Vision turned to see you come outside moments later, a confused look on his face.  “Vision?  What’s wrong, buddy?  You look paler than a ghost.” 

Vision turned to look back at the fence, where Herb and Agnes once stood.  The two had left a while ago, but he seemed frozen in place.  “It’s nothing,” He smiled.  

“Are you sure?” You asked, looking back at the fence that he seemed to stare at before he looked at you.  It was cut nearly in half.  From what, you couldn’t tell. 

“Absolutely.  I suppose I’m just rather nervous about becoming a father.  It feels like it happened so quickly.” 

“Well, I’m sure it did, Vision.  You’ll be fine though.  You’re a good man and remember, Wanda’s going to be there too.  Like I said before, it’s not like you’re doing it alone.  You’ve got this whole town.”  

“That’s true.  This town seems to be quite... Supportive.” 

“Sometimes too supportive.  It feels like everyone’s connected sometimes!” You two shared a nervous laugh. 

“Oh yes, everyone here is quite connected.  Sometimes it is almost concerning.  This town is nothing like I have ever seen before.  I feel as though you can’t keep any secrets around here.” 

“Yeah, I know how you feel.” 

~

“What do you mean?” Loki asked, trying to figure out what’s going on.  The blade was pressing against his skin, close to piercing it.  His eyes scanned the man’s face, unable to determine who he was. 

“I won’t ask again.” 

“I don’t even know who you are,” Loki replied, now glaring at the man.  

Scott revealed himself to Loki, green magic engulfing his form.  He wore the same suit as he did before, but his hair was longer now, reaching down to brush his shoulders slightly.  His green eyes were sharper now, and his face was far more defined.  Loki watched as the man morphed into a mirror image of himself.  “Do I look familiar now?” He spat out, annoyed by the impostor.  

“Quite,” He said stiffly.  Loki pushed him back while “Scott” wasn’t paying that much attention.  He walked to the other side of the room, giving the two of them space between one another.  “I am Loki.  But who are you?” 

“That’s impossible,” Scott said.  “This reality’s version of me was supposed to die in 2018.” 

“2018?” Loki questioned.  “The year 2018?” 

“Yes, the year 2018,” Scott rolled his eyes.  “What other year would I mean?” 

“What year is it now then?” 

“2023.  You’ve been dead for 5 years and yet you’re here.  The T.V.A didn’t tell me about this.  Of course they wouldn’t.”

“The T.V.A?” 

Scott ignored his question.  “Now I’m stuck in the Scarlet Witch’s fake reality with another version of me.  But they told me he died.  Is it possible?” He was thinking aloud, causing Loki to grow even more confused. 

“What are you talking about?” 

Scott shook his head.  “It doesn’t matter.  I have a mission to carry out if I want to get out of there.  Plans have changed.” 

~

Ten minutes later you found yourself walking to Ellis Avenue.  It was close to the edge of town, and very few people lived there anymore.  The sun may have been shining and birds may have been chirping, but you felt like the air was icy as you got closer to the border.  The sign “Leaving Westview: We hope to see you again soon!” looked old and rundown, as if no one had touched it in decades.  An image of a family playing in the park was shown next to the lettering.  Perhaps once upon a time it was a cute sign.  Now it seemed ominous. 

A sense of dread and misery started to seep in as you continued walking closer to the end of the road.  It was like you couldn’t control your own thoughts anymore.  Or perhaps, it was the other way around.  For the first time this week you felt like you were gaining control again.  

Making your way to the border, you noticed that there was not a single person in sight.  The road continued on, making its way through the forest that was only a mile away.  The trees swayed with the wind soundlessly.  A part of you almost seemed to beg to leave the town.  

So you kept on walking. 

It felt like some sort of energy was trying desperately to pull you away from it.  You couldn’t understand what pulled you to this town, what kept trying to pull you back into it.  You hardly remember anything before Westview.  What was on the outside? 

You were abruptly stopped by a barrier.  It was glowing red, much like the other objects you saw a few days ago.  The vibrant color seemed to pulse and move as you walked closer.  It was an electrifying feeling, being this close to the magic that kept everyone trapped inside.  Some part of you begged, screamed for you to stay back.  The other part of you asked for the exact opposite.  

You touched the barrier, a shock running up your arm when you did.  You almost pulled back instantly, but something protected you from it.  You stared in amazement as blue shockwaves seemed to surround your hand.  They disappeared, fading off into the red barrier.  

You turned around, looking to see if anyone was nearby.  No one seemed to be in sight, but you felt like you were being watched.  You turned back to the barrier, pushing your hand further in.  It hurt, but something egged you on, daring you to cross it.  

You took a step in, watching the red engulf your entire body.  You couldn’t think, couldn’t hear, couldn’t even see anything that was going on.  You had two options: Go back into the town that you’re trapped in or see what’s on the outside.  

It seemed to last forever, but it was probably because you could hardly move while you were in it.  It felt as if you were frozen solid.  Whatever it was didn’t want you to get out.  Memories were starting to seep in though.  Memories of the distant past, and memories of what had happened only two weeks ago.  

You gained feeling back in your hand again.  You had to be close to the end if you could feel it.  In just a split second you were thrown out of the barrier.  You collapsed onto the grass, taking a deep breath.  It felt like someone splashed cold water on you.  

Lights began to blind you as you heard voices all around you.  “Put her in custody, and someone get a doctor!” You heard one say.  It was distinct, clear, loud.  Whoever it was sounded like the leader. 

You felt several people pull you up from the ground, placing you on a softer surface.  A gurney, probably.  You blinked several times, squinting to see where you were.  Someone familiar stood next to you.  It was Geraldine.  Was that her name?  

At that point it didn’t matter.  Your head was in too much pain from everything else that was going on to care.  

“You’ll be okay, Y/N.  We’re going to get you checked out,” The woman reassured you.  She smiled slightly and you tried to smile back at her. 

You started to doze off, choosing to sleep and recover from the traumatic experience you just had.  For the first time in a long time you were able to dream.  These dreams weren’t normal though.  

They were memories. 

Memories of everything before Westview. 

Scott watched Loki’s body slowly disappear.  Clearly, he was just an illusion.  Something set up by the Scarlet Witch to keep Y/N in control.  He contacted the TVA on his communicator, sending them a message as he watched the body dissolve.  

He was told that this reality was created by the Scarlet Witch and that he had to get the timeline back on track.  They never told him about Y/N being involved.  They didn’t even tell him that an illusion of himself would be in it too.  

The plan would have to change if he wanted to make sure this worked.  They didn’t even give him an idea of how to set the timeline right.  Now that he knows what’s going on, he has an idea. 

And now, he’ll make sure he gets out of here in time. 

And he’ll be sure to give the Time Variance Authority hell.  

~

Wanda smiled down at Billy, sitting next to Vision who held Tommy.  She felt something turn in her chest.  Something was wrong.  Her eyes widened, and she looked out across the room, zoning out.  

Vision noticed that she seemed distracted, trapped in her thoughts.  He reached over slightly to touch her hand, bringing her back.  She turned to him and smiled.  

“Is something wrong, my love?” He asked. 

“No, nothing at all.  Everything is just fine.” She said, looking down at Billy once more.  

She wasn’t going to concern him with the fact that she knew something was wrong. 

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

@emberfulclass @momoneymolife @high-priestesss @hailey-the-heathen @mochminnie @dpaccione @intricate-melody @lindseyrae20 @storminateacup15 @ilovemollyweasley @bookgirlunicorn @chims-kookies @austynparksandpizza @yikesdameron @littleladdty @three-eyed-snail @kymera-casterwill @justsomerandompersonintheworld @followthepastelcloud @11mb0 @carolinesbookworld @from-hel-i-with-love @grimalkynslee @boywivlove @prettysbliss @youreobsessedwithmarvel @th3gl1tt3gram3roff1c1al @luthien-t @lokilove3000 @treblebeth @weclassygirl @justfangirlingaround @drpepperobsessed @how-does-this-work @prideofnewberk @matterdontminduntildone

[panlight]

What are the top three ways that the story breaks belief by giving Bella whatever she/Meyer wants? What are the top three ways that the story does great at showing the realities of vampirism?

1. The baby. Yes, I know, SM technically didn’t address a male vampire and female human and whether they could have a child or not, but all her comments pre-BD heavily, heavily implied that vampires couldn’t have children, to the degree that the whole fandom believed this and would comment on fic where they had kids as being unrealistic. She also wrote Bella as not liking/wanting kids, easily giving it up when Rosalie warned her, being dismissive of Esme and Rosalie’s longing (”they get by just fine”) and then . . . gives her a kid and she’s instantly on board and fulfilled being a mom at 19 (although Edward is still her priority in a lot of ways). Also SM’s justification for Edward being able to conceive is an entry on a 1990s vampire website on Angelfire about the incubus which isn’t even really a vampire and if you look into that mythology the incubus’ children aren’t his biologically but that’s a whole other point. It just makes no sense to me that one half of the species is 100% infertile full-stop but the other half retains the ability to conceive children but ONLY with the species they are supposed to eat. What kind of biology is that, that’s so weird. It all feels so contrived just so E/B *specifically* can have a kid and honestly they would have been fine without one, it wasn’t THEIR great desire, it was Rosalie’s and Esme’s. 

2. Letting Charlie in on it. I know, it would have been sad and awful for her to have to fake her own death or just disappear but that’s what she was signing up for and getting to keep Charlie around with some loophole about not using the word ‘vampire’ does not feel realistic to me. Honestly the whole idea of secrecy is just so inconsistent. We need a convoluted plan to steal multiple cars because omg secrecy! the sun! the cops! but then they can go to a hospital where somewhere knew forever 23-year-old Carlisle 14 years ago and secrecy? What secrecy? We’ll just let him think it’s plastic surgery, whatever. Likewise Charlie. Oh no humans can't know, it’s not safe, we’ll have to leave him in the dark to protect him! And then it’s just like “Charlie conveniently doesn’t want details and as long as we don’t actually use the word ‘vampire’ we aren’t breaking any rules” feels too easy. 

3. Pretty much instant self-control. She passes it off as Bella being “prepared” and “braced” for it, but then in Life and Death, Beau is also pretty much instantly in control too and he didn’t have time to prepare at all. And sure, you can come up with reasons, her aversion to blood as a human being a decent one, and by itself it might not have bothered me too much, but because it’s combined with all the other ways Breaking Dawn lets the air out of the balloon after three books of build up about how much Bella will have to give up and what a struggle it will be to be a vampire, it feels too easy. I WANTED the newborn stuff! I was excited for it! I was stoked to get to see first-hand what it was like to go from human to vampire and what kind of adjustments you have to make within yourself, so Bella just being instantly great at it and loving it with zero angst was anticlimactic and boring for me.

But vampirism is pretty terrible for like, virtually anyone else? I mean, pick a backstory! They’re all dark and awful and sad (at BEST bittersweet) and fit perfectly in the vampire genre (could do without the violence against women, though, since she doesn't apply it in the same way to the male characters. Life and Death makes that glaringly clear). 

1. Alistair was turned into a vampire after his power-hungry father enlisted the help of a shady vampire who went by Astaroth, Prince of Hell, but was actually some blond dude named George and fed him his wife and daughters in exchange for Alistair to become a vampire and then eventually King (how was THAT supposed to work? Oh well). Then Alistair accidentally kills his father, his horse breaks his neck trying to get away from him, and all his beloved falcons are terrified of him and abandon him.

2. Within the Cullens, you have Carlisle, the son of a monster-hunting pastor who was turned during a vampire raid, knew he could never return to his father like that, tried to destroy himself, and ended up trying to starve himself, as a newborn, in the forest, for months. The angst! The crisis of faith! The horror! This is a compelling vampire story right there! A crime it wasn’t in the movies!

3. Everything about the newborn wars. That’s all terrible and brutal and violent and like, thank you, this is a vampire story, we need that. The idea of creating armies of new vampires, at their strongest and most feral, and then killing them when their power wanes after their first year is so dark and awful. Gaslighting the few mature vampires who remain into believing that it’s the way ALL vampires live so they’re no point in leaving. Just eternal, constant warfare and killing--not only killing humans for sustenance but your own kind. And it bucks the trend of a lot of vampire stories where vampires grow more powerful with age; the idea that NEW vampires are the strongest is actually pretty terrifying, it makes turning anyone into a vampire to join you as a companion or partner a pretty big gamble--can you control them until they Calm Down? Will their instincts overwhelm them and they’ll see you as a threat and destroy you? 

You read about these things and you’re like “the same lady who gave Bella a baby, a fairy tale cottage and a sexy brand new car upon her conversion to vampirism came up with THAT?” 

[bookishofalder]

Night Changes [Nine]

Summary: Will Poe and the reader be reunited?

Warnings: Angst, character deaths, language, smut. TW-pregnancy, birth, infant, breastfeeding. WC—+10k

A/N-At the end.

“Rey,” At the sound of her name, Rey paused and glanced around to see Leia standing next to the Falcon, waiting. Meeting her kind eyes, she hoped Leia wasn’t going to try and convince her not to go again; she’d already told the wise General that she had to find the Wayfinder, that she needed to complete Luke’s mission and get to Exegol. Finn, Poe, Chewbacca and C3PO were already on board, waiting for her to join them; it was time to leave.

“Leia?” She stepped toward her mentor, who looked around cautiously before lowering her voice to speak to Rey.

“I need to give you something.”

Rey frowned, confused, glancing down to Leia’s empty, “What do you mean?”

Leia sighed, her eyes tired. Rey understood—she felt exhausted too. “I can’t explain it. And you must keep it to yourself until the moment is right—trust me, you’ll know when that is—if you do end up needing to,” Leia took hold of Rey’s hands, squeezing, “I’ll show you, but you must keep it tucked away no matter what.”

Seeing the seriousness in Leia’’s eyes, Rey swallowed and nodded, “Of course. I promise.” She returned the pressure to the General’s hands and watched as she reached up and pressed her fingers gently to Rey’s temple.

In a brief flash, Rey saw enough to understand.

As he was pushed roughly through the doors to an open hangar with Finn and Chewie, Poe couldn’t help but reflect on his life over the past year and a half. He’d had a lot of close calls, even been captured, but this was the first time he felt like he was going to die, as General Hux and a couple of Storm Troopers stood behind them, ready to execute Poe and his friends. He hoped Rey was able to escape, at least.

And Leia could get the news of his death to you. She would make sure you were taken care of for the rest of your life. He had no regrets, no, not with you on some planet far away from all of this and free to raise the baby. He’d done everything he could, fought as hard as possible, but that didn’t mean he was guaranteed to live.

Poe tried to picture what the baby might look like, whether they got your smile, his hair. Pain shot through his broken heart that his child would grow with only pictures of him, no memories. He glanced up at Finn, eager to distract himself; he could hear Hux speaking to the Troopers and ignored them.

“What were you going to tell Rey before?”

Finn hesitated, appearing uncomfortable, “You still on that?”

“Oh,” Poe frowned at him incredulously, “Is this a bad time?” He just wanted to hear Finn admit aloud he had feelings for Rey. He could sense it between them, especially recently, and thought that they made a good pair. In another life he could see himself with them, you at his side, enjoying a late-night dinner, laughing around a table while the kids pretended to be asleep in their bedrooms.

Nodding, Finn gave Poe a wary look, “It sort of is?” Poe scoffed, shaking his head.

“So I tell you my deepest secrets but right before we’re about to die you’re locking down on yours?” Poe hadn’t just told Finn about you; after he’d confessed your existence, he hadn’t been able to stop sharing with his friend, who listened attentively as Poe described his life with you, how he’d love you since he was ten years old.

Finn blanched, and after a pause opened his mouth to respond, only shots went off behind them and they flinched. Poe expected to feel pain, or perhaps nothing if the shot was well placed, only they heard thuds behind them and instead glanced around to find Hux holding a blaster, eyes on the dead Troopers momentarily before he looked up at them.

“I’m the spy.” He claimed, a dark smirk on his twisted face, and Poe felt a rush of confused relief—he and Finn exchanged looks as Chewie groaned.

“What?” He exclaimed at the same moment Finn yelled, “You?” In disbelief.

Hux ignored them, “We don’t have much time, we have to go.” He gestured for them to follow and after a brief pause, they hastened to climb to their feet.

Poe hurried forward and grabbed a few of the fallen Troopers blasters, passing them to Finn and Chewie before taking one for himself. His blood was rushing, the feeling of being alive still—of getting lucky, again—made him feel powerful like you were out there somewhere sending him the strength and good fortune that he needed at every turn.

As they ran behind Hux, Finn touched Poe’s arm. “That was too close—made me realize, do you have a way of her knowing if something happens to you?”

Poe nodded, “Leia will tell her.”

But he sincerely hoped that would never happen, that you wouldn’t be standing in the doorway of some home he’d never know and hear the words that he had died, that he was never coming for you. The idea of you being in that kind of pain was something he couldn’t fully fathom, and it only renewed his determination to get to the Wayfinder and finish this fight once and for all.

11 Months Ago

“Doesn’t matter how many galaxies separate us, I will always be with you, and you with me. I promise.”

Memories of your life with Poe had a way of burrowing into the forefront of your mind when you least expect them; when you let your guard down. The emotional goodbye all those years before, back on Yavin-4 when you were just kids—Poe leaving with Charlie to join the Resistance...it was a lifetime ago. And as much as you believed his words both then and now, it didn’t make the pain any easier to endure as you lay here without him, the Healer and Kes having left you alone with the newborn baby cradled in your arms.

You were surprised when the Healer had passed you the baby—after almost nine hours of labour—to see the tuft of dark curls on their head; Kes had remarked that Poe had come into the world with as much hair, and you’d laughed through your mixed tears of sorrow and joy and love. So they took after their dad—what a beautiful, heartbreaking thought.

Stars, you hoped Poe would meet them before long--before they grew too much. Just seeing the tiny creature, skin-to-skin with you like the Healer recommended, both made your heart feel complete while simultaneously tearing it apart. He should have been here to hold your hand, to cut the cord and press soft kisses to both of your heads and cry tears of joy from it all.

It wasn’t fair. Up until this moment you’d been able to lock back to anger and the bitter feelings over having let Poe send you away because it had been the right choice no matter what way you looked at it. But now, as you lay exhausted and bursting with love for the baby you made with your soulmate, you let some of that anger free through wretched sobs because it wasn’t fair that he had to miss this, that for all you knew he could be...

You stopped yourself from thinking of the worst-case scenario. It wasn’t helpful to imagine what he was doing now, where he was, if he was okay. And you’d promised him you would keep him alive in your mind unless you knew for certain that he wasn’t.

A small whine met your ears and you glanced down at the baby, smiling at their pinched expression as they struggled to adapt to their new surroundings. “It’s okay, little bug. Mama is here, shhh...” You cooed softly, running a lone finger over their hair in a gentle motion. You watched their eyes flutter beneath the lids, enjoying the feel of your touch, and then froze when they opened their eyes for the first time to look up at you blearily.

Stars, they had Poe’s eyes.

Now - 35 ABY - Battle of Exegol

When Temmin died, Poe truly began to lose all hope.

Before watching another friend’s x-wing get shot down, he’d managed to scrape the bottom of the barrel for that hope, for any remaining belief that they could win this fucking fight. That everything he’d ever sacrificed was worth it because now they had arrived and it was time to put an end to it all—but then he was screaming for Snap to watch his six, heard the anguished cry through the comm when he was hit, the searing memory of losing Charlie so many years before in the same way making his stomach churn, and he just felt so...

So fucking hopeless.

Leia was gone. The Resistance was down to pathetic numbers, and he had finally lost all hope.

Shit, if he was being honest with himself he’d been running through these last few days with urgency and adrenaline that prevented him from overthinking the odds, a blissful denial that anything other than winning could occur. When he’d told the remaining fighters of the Resistance that this was their final stand, that help would come, he had meant it as much as he’d hoped it was true.

“Help will come if they know there is hope,” Poe had stared around at his friends, at their doubting expressions, “They will. We have friends out there. The First Order wins by making us think we’re alone. We’re not alone—good people will fight if we lead them.”

In all of the time that had passed between when he’d said goodbye to you to this moment, he’d never once regretted sending you far away from the fight. Even here, with Rebel, after Rebel dying and a fleet of Destroyer’s that would wipe out entire planets unless they bent to the will of the First Order, he felt a sense of peace knowing that you were safely tucked away well beyond the reaches of their tyranny. His child would grow up with a mother who could share stories of Poe’s life, his love for you, for them.

It still stung, though, knowing he would never see you again. That he would die fighting and his last thoughts would be of you, of his little family, and you would have no idea. He hoped when you did find out the Resistance was done, the fight was lost, that you didn’t take it too hard—didn’t blame yourself in any way. He wanted you to be mad at him, not at yourself, not after everything you’d done for him, everything you had sacrificed.

He almost could have laughed, bleak as the outlook now was it shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did that no aid had arrived, that Lando and Chewie flew to the inner core worlds for nothing—clearly, no one was coming. Just like the Battle of Crait, they were alone; only now Leia was gone and Poe was the General, he was the one everyone was screaming for orders from through the comms, he was the one that had to say it aloud.

“My friends,” His voice was scratchy, choked up, as his mind played flashes of his life—of you, of losing Charlie, marrying you, losing Leia. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry—”

He would die taking down as many enemies as he could. He would tell the rest of them to either do the same or flee—he wouldn’t blame them if they fled. Poe could almost imagine himself doing it, but the idea of finding you somewhere out there and saying he’d left at the final hour made bile heave in his stomach. He would never abandon the fight, not when you had wanted to stay as much as you had, but left for the baby.

As he struggled to pull in a breath to speak, he recalled the last time he saw you.

It was late, the base quiet and most of the Rebels sleeping, all except for Poe and you—it was time to say goodbye, under the cover of darkness. He wasn’t allowed to follow you into the hangar because he couldn’t know even the most minute details of how you got off-planet. Still, he would walk you as far as he could, and savour every final second together.

“I changed my mind, I’m not leaving you.” You whispered, halting in the hallway and turning to face Poe. One hand ran absentmindedly over your swollen stomach, the other reached up to grip his forearm. Your lower lip trembled, and he felt every word you wanted to say to convince him you should stay.

Poe took a shuddering breath, “Sweet girl, you aren’t leaving me—stop thinking about it like that. You’re saving our baby, keeping them safe, remember?” He tried to keep the desperate plea minimal in his voice because it had been like this for the last few days. One moment you were reluctantly prepared to leave, the next you were begging to stay. He didn’t know how much more of this torture he could stand before he broke down and let you stay.

Your pretty eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed, just like his. You’d each cried more than enough to last a lifetime, and although heat pricked the corners of his eyes now he knew no more tears could come until you were out of sight. He would cry in his bed alone tonight, and probably every night until he saw you again, but right now he needed to show strength.

You stepped into his arms and Poe hugged you close, your body angling your stomach so that it wasn’t pressed between you both. “I don’t...Poe, I don’t think I’m strong enough to do this.”

Poe stared at you in disbelief, “Not strong enough? Are you kidding me?” He brought his hands to cup your cheeks gently, “You are the strongest person I know. What you are about to do for us, for our baby, is the most incredible sacrifice anyone could make. Everything you are doing and have done in your life only proves how amazing and strong you are—no matter what happens, please never forget that, okay?”

You whimpered sadly, nodding your head, and Poe shakily pressed his lips to yours, capturing you for one last kiss. It was soft and for one brief moment, he let himself imagine it was a greeting, though in truth it only made his heart fracture further rather than make him feel any better.

“Whatever happens, Poe, we’ll be okay...so don’t worry about us, focus on yourself,” You reached up and pushed your hands into his curls, savouring them one final time. “Promise me you’ll never stop fighting, flyboy.”

Poe smiled sadly down at you, his eyes drinking in every detail of your beautiful face, “Never, sweetheart, I promise I’ll never stop fighting. And this isn’t goodbye,” He pressed one hand gently against your belly, “It’s just a...see you soon. Once I’m finished blowing shit up in my x-wing.”

You laughed, tears streaming down your face and then pulled Poe against you again, his hand stuck between your bodies as you crushed him in a strong embrace. “I love you, Poe.”

“Oh, sweet girl, I love you too.”

35 ABY - Sorgan

You missed flying, though the place Leia had sent Kes and you to barely had any air traffic, the planet much too out of the way. Still, it had a sky that night or day you’d find yourself gazing into, wishing you could feel that weightlessness that came with blasting off from base, that you would look to your left and see Poe in his ship, the stars stretching beyond.

Poe. Stars, you missed him more and more every day. You had trouble believing it had been over a year, that the baby was now eleven months old and starting to try and walk and they’d never met their father. Though each time this knowledge became too heavy, you reminded yourself of the peaceful life you were living on Sorgan and how that had been the whole point of you leaving the fight—for the baby, for safety.

Sorgan was so far removed that no news reached the planet from the middle and core rims, something you’re sure Leia knew when she decided to send you here. You sometimes felt suffocated, not knowing a single thing about what was happening out there, but then you knew if you did know, it might make it harder to stay. And you couldn’t leave, you knew that for certain the moment you’d laid eyes on your newborn when the Healer had set the baby in your arms, face pinched as shrieks filled the air until they’d calmed, skin to skin with you.

You had gazed at the beautiful baby and you knew that you could never bear to part from them, no matter what you did or didn’t know about the war. Nonetheless, it was perhaps infinitesimally easier to be ignorant and allow yourself to imagine that it was all going fine.

You were living in a small but cozy yurt on the edge of a fishing village. The simple space comprised of the main room that hosted the barebones kitchen with a big table to eat at and a couple of comfortable sitting chairs, and had two rooms, one on either side, for sleeping quarters. The baby was in a crib at the end of your bed, where you were laying now. Very much awake even as they slept soundly.

Or so you thought until you were jerking from your thoughts at their sudden cries. You waited for a minute, the soft cries more whimpers than anything, and hoped the baby would soothe themselves back to sleep. They hiccuped, however, and started to cry again from the jolt. You sighed before sliding out from under the covers and padding softly to their crib.

“Your eyes aren’t even open,” You accused, grinning at the baby with the scrunched face, all the drama of their dad and only eleven months. Carefully lifting them, you tucked the baby against your chest and began to stroll slow circles around the bedroom, swaying as you went. “You know, when your dad finally comes and meets you he’s taking night duty over. I don’t care how many wars he wins.”

The little coo you got in response was enough to tell you Bug was on your side.

Though every day apart from Poe was painful, you did savour the good moments with the little piece of your heart that remained, beating for the baby you held now. And on this peaceful, sleepy planet most days had plenty of good—even if you were sad. Kes was an incredibly positive man, and like his son knew how to read you well, often stepping in to whisk the baby away whenever he sensed your sorrow was too hard to contain. You tried to spend all of the energy you had smiling for Bug because that was the only thing you could really do.

The guilt was heavy. You knew Poe would be devastated if he knew just how much you carried, living so comfortably—if a little rustic—on Sorgan all while he spent every day fighting to stay alive. But it was easier to focus on that guilt, to hate yourself than it was to be afraid of losing him—never seeing him again. Stars, the guilt was practically a salve in comparison to that.

Some days though, it was harder to keep the frame of mind that staying was the only option. As the baby grew, the guilt began to feed a steady flow of ‘what if’s’ into your mind. It was getting harder to ignore the sense of it. When Bug started to mix food into their diet, weaning partially from your breastmilk, you told yourself you could wean them completely, earlier than you planned but then you could hire a ship to take you back to D’Qar...

Only, you didn’t even know if D’Qar was still safe anymore.

It was a circular battle you couldn’t win no matter the choice you made, though you always chose the baby, chose to stay because you promised Poe you would. He’d told you that you were making the greatest sacrifice, and he had been right—he knew he could distract himself with the fight, and that you would only be able to distract yourself so much with raising the baby. He understood you would spend every day apart wishing you could rejoin him.

A soft snore pulled you from your thoughts and you glanced down at the baby to find them fast asleep again. You smiled fondly, that little chunk of your heart giving a happy beat as you settled them back into their crib and ran your fingers gently over their soft cheek.

“Goodnight, Charlie, my sweet girl.” You whispered heart clenching at the sight of her chubby cheeks relaxed in sleep.

Deciding a cool drink was needed, you slipped from the quiet of your room and into the main extension of the yurt you shared with Kes. A single lamp lit the small space dimly, and you helped yourself to a glass of water and took a seat at the table. You weren’t sure how long you were sitting there before Kes appeared and sat down across from you with a knowing smile on his face.

He sat silently for a few minutes as you sipped at your drink, speaking only once you’d finished. “Can’t sleep again?”

You sighed, running your hands through your hair, exhaustion setting deep in your bones.

“I keep having the same dream, Kes. Poe and Bug, back home on Yavin-4. Only, the beach is in colour but they aren’t.” You choked up, glancing toward your room, where you could see the crib through the doorway.

Kes followed your gaze, “Bug will meet him someday. I know it. You need to believe that too, kiddo, and you really need to get some sleep.” He patted your hand gently before standing and you watched him make his way to his room, pulling the curtain across his doorway as he did.

Taking a deep breath, you pressed your palms into your closed eyes, willing your mind to settle so that you could go to bed and get some rest. You just don’t think you could stand to have the dream again—always waking up and wondering, would you ever really get to see Poe again? Would he ever get to meet his little girl?

When you climbed back beneath the cool sheets of your bed, you fell into light sleep, your dreams the same as ever—Poe playing with Charlie on the beach back home on Yavin-4 while you sat on a blanket on the sand watching, laughing as they splashed each other. Your family, together again.

35 ABY - Battle of Exegol

As wretched as it was to think of never seeing you again, this wasn’t the first time he thought he was going to die. At least here, in his x-wing, he could take out as many enemies as he could before going out in a blaze—just like...like Charlie.

“I thought we had a shot. There’s too many of them.” He finished speaking to the remaining fighters in resignation, his eyes heavy—he was tired, so tired. Enough so that when a new, familiar voice came clear over the comms, he sat up straighter before his mind even registered what they were saying.

“Oh, but there’s more of us, Poe. There’s more of us.”

Poe spun his ship around, his heart frozen in his chest, flew up over the wreckage of the one First Order ship they’d so far managed to take out—and there it was.

Lando and Chewie were back; he could see the Falcon, and behind them were thousands and thousands of ships. And still, more coming as he looked, pulling out of light speed to fall in with the Falcon. Poe could hardly believe his eyes, but right before him, he couldn’t doubt for a moment that his friends had come back and they...

They had brought hope.

You sat with your toes in the water, the sun shining on your back warm and comforting. Charlie splashed around happily, her water suit covering her arms and legs, joining her cute straw hat in protecting her from too much sunlight. She kept looking from the water around her chubby legs to the flowing stream behind her-as if dissatisfied with the ankle-deep water you had set her in.

“You can go in the river in a few years,” You cocked a brow at her as she gave you a pouty look. “You’re very cute, but mama says no.”

With a resigned sigh that seemed far too mature for her, she went back to splashing the water and you slid your toes towards her, wriggling them so that she tried to catch hold. When she managed to grab your big toe, you laughed and she giggled brightly, her gleeful peals filling the quiet around you.

It was a beautiful day on Sorgan. They all were, really, even the rainy days, the ones that kept you inside the yurt listening to the rain while Kes tried to teach Charlie how to crawl and you laughed as you watched them. But the sunny days were the best, the ones you could fill with endless activity to distract yourself as much as to tire out the baby. Because when your mind settled, it tended to stray off into dark thoughts.

Maybe Poe was gone.

Maybe he would never come to find you here, your little family would be memories of Poe as you raised his little girl with Kes instead. The weight of that responsibility, of ensuring she had a happy life all while missing a whole section of your heart for the rest of your own was heavy so you tried not to overthink it.

You channelled that energy into Charlie, focused on her and you think you were doing a good job of keeping her safe and content. You showed Charlie pictures of Poe every day, wanting to ensure she knew his face even if she would never get to see it in person. She’d been looking at him since she was just a little bean, and you repeated his name, ‘dada’, every time as well. She wasn’t speaking yet, but it couldn’t hurt to keep the association in her mind when she was ready to start talking.

Charlie stopped splashing and glanced up at you with wide eyes, her expression familiar. “Hungry, Bug?” You reached out for her and lifted her from the water, carefully standing and wading to the grassy spot you’d set your picnic up.

You dried her off first, then let her crawl on the blanket while you dry your feet before following her to sit. She beelined for you as you untied your tunic, lowering one side and easing your breast out, grateful your nanny droid had provided you with a soothing balm for your aching nipples. Breastfeeding was your favourite way to bond with her, but Stars, it came at a cost.

You settled Charlie against you and watched as she closed her eyes, suckling softly. You adjusted the tunic to protect her from the sun and fell into a quiet state as she fed. It was sometime later that the sound of a large ship captured your attention, breaking you from your meditation.

Charlie was asleep against you, her face still pressed to your breast, and didn’t stir as the ship, far in the distance, flew past. You wondered briefly, a jolt of electricity coursing through you wondering if it was Poe come to find you both. But when the ship flew only further away, you pushed the idea from your mind. It was probably a shipment from the core worlds going to the markets. You made a mental note to plan a trip there for the next day—if there were fresh supplies, you might find a treat or two. Get something nice for Kes, perhaps.

Feeling exhaustion hit, you napped with Charlie there on the river's edge. You had nothing to fear on Sorgan, and in fact, many of the neighbours in your village were around, not too close but enough so that if needed they could come and wake you. You kept Charlie protected from the sun but let it shine on you, the brightness no match for the gentle lull of sleep, the soft trickle of the river.

When you woke an hour later, you felt more rested than you had in some time, pausing as you sat up to stretch the kinks from your body. Charlie was wriggling and you knew she probably needed to be changed. “Time to go home?” You asked her with a grin, and she made a sour little face in response that made you laugh. You loved how expressive she was, how even though she wasn’t talking yet she managed to let you know how she felt.

With practiced movements, you packed up the little picnic, hoisted your bag over one shoulder before lifting her to sit against your hip, and made the short walk home. Kes was sitting outside the yurt when you arrived, reading, though he set the book down at the sound of your footsteps and grinned widely when Charlie cooed for him.

“Did you have a nice time, ladies?”

You smiled, “She sure loves the water, I should start taking her in the river, see how she likes floating,” Kes took her from you carefully—Charlie made a face and you both laughed, “Sorry, Kes, I think she needs to be changed.”

“No worries, you relax for a bit and I’ll deal with diaper duty.”

Nodding gratefully, you set your bag down on the chair Kes had vacated and turned to gaze out at the grassy lawn. It was a simple home, certainly not where you would have planned to raise a baby, but it was peaceful. You start to think about the next steps, how long you would stay on Sorgan before leaving. You would go ahead first, find out if it was safe, and then you wanted to return to Yavin-4. Not for a few years, although you’d like to leave before Charlie got too old and she was too attached to this place.

You stepped away from the front of the yurt to stare out over the fields. First towards the villagers as they came in from working for the day in the waters, ready to put their feet up before making dinner, and then you turned toward the river and watched the water for a while, your arms crossed, listening distantly to Charlie and Kes making each other laugh inside.

When a voice broke through your thoughts a short while later, you started in surprise before spinning, recognition of the honey-warm tone slamming into you.

“You dreaming about me, sweet girl?”

“Rey, I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you—“

Rey cut Poe off, gripping his arm with a soft smile, “It was Leia, Poe. She found me before we left Ajan Kloss, she put the coordinates in my head, just in case she didn’t make it.”

Poe hugged her quickly, “Still, without you, I don’t know how long it would have taken me to find her here.” He hurried to the ramp, hitting the button to lower it with excitement mounting within him by the second.

“What do you want us to do?” Finn was standing next to Poe as he waited for the ramp to lower onto the grass.

Poe glanced up at his friend, “I have to go alone, can you wait for me here? I’ll come for you—or send for you—if I find them.” He adjusted his jacket as he spoke, nerves slicing his stomach to pieces. He hadn’t felt this close to you in almost a year and a half.

Finn nodded, a small smile on his lips, “We’ll wait. She has to be here, Poe, you’ll find her.” He clapped Poe on the shoulder encouragingly and he swallowed, unable to form a response so he just returned a half-smile and then clambered down the ramp.

Sorgan was a quiet, sleepy planet full of green. If you were here, the idea that you spent all this time in such a place was comforting to Poe—you would have been able to enjoy the land, be outside, not cooped up somewhere.

He was in a small village, and the market that lined the street was bustling with after-work crowds that were in the tens, the people all smiling at one another in a way that revealed how kind of a place it was. He wandered for a few minutes until he spotted a stand that carried medical supplies and approached the vendor, a friendly-looking older woman who grinned at him.

“Hello, stranger. How can I help you?”

Poe held up the photo he had of you, one he’d taken not long after finding out you were pregnant, your hand on your small belly and a big smile on your face. “Have you seen this woman, ma’am?”

“That’s Mrs. Carstairs,” She responded with a small nod. Poe felt his insides inflate, his excitement now ready to burst forth in a shout of glee that he had to bite back. He took a steadying breath, realizing that you had used your mother’s maiden name as your cover.

He grinned, “Yes, (y/n)—“

The woman cut him off, her eyes widening, “Oh now, you must be the husband. Now that I look at you, the baby has your eyes.”

Poe’s stomach turned over at this information. The baby had his eyes? “That’s me, do you know where I can find her, please?” He made to pull out some credits to pass over to the woman for her trouble, only she reached over to take his hand gently and shook her head, smiling.

“No need for that, dear,” She jerked her head in the direction of a nearby road that split off from the village, “Just follow that, about twenty minutes you’ll come across a fishing village. She lives right off that road on the outskirts of the village.”

Saying his thanks quickly, Poe ran faster than he had in his life in the direction she had indicated.

When he finally saw the little yurt along the main road, he breathed a sigh of relief. The sun was lowering in the sky and casting a golden glow over the ponds, fields and the nearby river. It was beautiful, and as he passed the fishing village he smiled at the villagers, who gave him curious looks before returning friendly smiles. He slowed to catch his breath, his eyes moving back to the yurt, now much closer. And then his gaze snapped to a figure standing not far from the door, gazing out in the direction of the river.

It was you.

His heart about ripped out of his chest at the sight of you alive and well. The closer he got he could see how you’d barely changed—your skin had seen more sunlight, your hair was longer, and he could see the soft curves of your figure that motherhood had brought on. He watched you for a moment, standing a few feet back, and he could hear his dad inside the yurt making a baby laugh.

Making his baby laugh.

“You dreaming about me, sweet girl?”

You spun around so fast you were a blur, though Poe didn’t miss the way your hand twitched toward the blaster at your hip before your eyes landed on him. Seeing this only made him grin more broadly, but nerves for the reunion kept him rooted to the spot. What if you were angry with him? The thought hadn’t occurred to him before this, but perhaps you-

“POE!” You cried out, and then you were running forward and jumping into his arms and it was everything he’d dreamed of and more. He caught you and held you close as you both fell to your knees in the grass, and Poe let himself get lost in the moment, sobs pulling from deep within.

He hugged you as tight as he could and then started to pepper your face with kisses, “Oh my sweet girl, I missed you. Stars above, I missed you,” He murmured, his eyes closing as your fingers sunk into his curls and tugged him, your lips crashing to his in a desperate kiss that felt exactly like coming home.

“I was so afraid you wouldn’t be able to find us,” You whimpered after pulling back, your body still pressed against his, “I can’t believe you’re finally here...”

Poe shook his head, “Leia had a backup plan all along. Stars, you are so beautiful,” He swept his fingers over your cheeks, getting a good look at you now and seeing how well cared for you looked; Sorgan had been good to you. “I’m here now. It’s over, we’re safe now.”

You released your hold on his head to run your hands over your face, wiping at your tears, “Poe, the baby’s just inside, I—”

Poe and you both turned your heads at the same time at the sound of Kes coming out the door, his excited shout of glee making you both grin wider. He was holding the baby in his arms, and they looked around at the sound of your laugh, eyes just like Poe’s wide and curious—what a beautiful sight.

For a beat, the baby just stared at him, and then as Kes moved closer, a smile—a little smirk just like yours—appeared.

“Dada!”

Kes froze and glanced down at the baby in surprise, and Poe heard you gasp, one of your hands landing on his arm and squeezing excitedly. “That’s right Charlie, sweet girl, this is your Dada!”

Poe couldn’t stop staring at the baby, who hadn’t looked away from him either even as you spoke to her. She made grabby hands then, reaching for him and he tentatively raised his hands. His dad closed the gap between them and lowered the baby and he took hold of her cautiously, words caught in his throat and his heart beating fast.

She was a solid thing, sturdy in his arms and cooing happily as she gazed up in wonder at Poe. She was stunning, her eyes honey-brown and lined with thick, long lashes just like yours. Her skin was soft, and she was chunky, her baby rolls making him smile wider. After a minute, she spoke again, “Dada!” She raised her little fists towards his scruffy jaw before glancing at you.

Poe followed her gaze, “How does she know me?” He breathed, his heart in his throat.

Your watery smile only grew, “Showed her your picture every day. Wanted her to know her daddy, even if he...he couldn’t be with us,” You shuffled closer, one arm securing itself around Charlie and grasping Kes’ arm. “That was her first word, Poe. She said it just for you.”

Tears stinging at his eyes, Poe sat huddled with his family, clutching the baby closer with one arm, the other around your shoulders. His dad had thrown his arms around both you and Poe and was lamenting about how good it was to see him while Charlie cooed happily in his arms.

The moment was better than he’d ever dreamed.

Poe couldn’t put Charlie down. He carried her around for the rest of the evening, following you into the comfortable yurt you had called home all this time, one hand always on you, keeping you close.

Dad was making dinner and Poe enjoyed the banter you had, the routine of living together clearly having established itself long ago. He felt a jolt of gratitude for his dad dropping everything on Yavin-4 to take care of you and Charlie all this time.

He ate with one hand, relinquishing his hold on you but tugging you into his side before eating, his eyes constantly drinking in every expression on the baby’s face. He hadn’t realized how in love he would be so instantly, and certainly had not expected Charlie to adore him just as much—he’d thought the baby would be shy around him, maybe cry when he held them. But you had ensured she knew his face, his name—just another thing you did for him.

Poe was never going to be able to thank you enough for everything you had done.

“Poe?” Your soft voice broke into his thoughts and he looked around at you. You gave him a tentative sort of look, “Where is BB8?”

His shoulders relaxed automatically, “Oh he’s on the ship I came here in...with my friends,” He grinned and you copied him, your eyes curious, “I’ll go get them tomorrow and you can meet...I have so much to tell you, sweetheart.”

Your expression softened, “We have all the time in the world now.” You reached up and stroked his jaw, the motion so familiar his eyes automatically closed and emotion swelled in his chest. Before he could reply, he felt a second, much smaller hand land on his jaw and begin to copy the movement.

He smiled, looking through his lashes to see Charlie watching you intently as she imitated you, “Clever baby,” He murmured, and Charlie lit up at the sound of his voice. He turned his head and kissed her little hand affectionately.

“She gets her brains from me,” Kes piped up, tossing a wink at you before collecting everyone’s plates. He set them in the large stone sink before glancing at his watch. “You want to put her down for the night in my room?”

As you nodded, your eyes falling from Kes to Charlie, Poe felt a flush begin to creep up his neck at the idea of being alone with you again after so much time. He wanted to hold you close with nothing separating your bodies and curl into your healing warmth. Your hand reached for his, pulling him from his thoughts, and you tipped your head toward the baby in his arms, whose eyes were blinking slowly as exhaustion set in.

“Time for bed, little Bug,” You murmured, leading Poe towards your room. The curtain across the doorway sat open, fluttering slightly in the cool evening air, and the room was dark, illuminated only by the moonlight outside and some of the filtering light from the lamps in the main room of the yurt.

Poe carried Charlie to her crib, pressing his lips gently to her forehead, “Goodnight, Charlie, I love you.” He whispered, smiling to himself when she replied with a sleepy little coo. You took her from Poe then and took a moment to show him how to put the baby down for the night.

His heart was beating wildly in his chest as he watched you soothe Charlie, your fingers brushing delicately over her cheeks until her fluttering lashes settled and a small snore confirmed she was asleep. Poe hadn’t felt so much love in such a long time, he was half convinced he wouldn’t survive all of it thrumming through him now. And Stars, he was fucking proud of you, of how good of a mother you were; you’d done an amazing job raising Charlie so far, and he briefly worried about how he would ever be able to compare to you; if he could be as good of a parent as you were.

Once you had Charlie tucked in, you pushed the crib silently into Kes’ room, then wandered over to an armchair and picked up a blanket. When you turned to look up at Poe, his breath caught at the expression on your face. “Come with me, flyboy.”

Gulping, Poe followed you outside and across the grassy lawn in silence. You led him straight to a secluded spot along the riverbank, the flow of the water the only sound he could hear aside from his heartbeat. He wasn’t exactly sure why, but he suddenly felt nervous, alone with you for the first time in over a year—he’d faced down death countless times since, and yet it was this moment that was giving him pause.

He watched as you carefully spread the blanket out on the cool grass, then slipped off your shoes before stepping towards Poe with a soft smile. “Come here,” You whispered, and he closed the gap between you both eagerly. Kicking off his shoes before pulling you against him in a crushing hug, nuzzling his face into your neck, inhaling your familiar scent deeply.

He couldn’t have said who started to cry first, just that the moment he had you tight in his arms, you were both taking shuddering breaths. He let himself sob in a mixture of joy and sadness for everything, one hand cradling your head against his chest as you sniffled. “Sweet girl,” Poe drew back to look down at you after a few minutes, “Maker, I missed you. Every day was...shit, just complete shit without you.” He admitted, eyes closing automatically when you reached up to brush the tears from his face.

“I missed you too, but you’re here now, Poe. You’re here and you’re safe,” You whispered, leaning up on your tiptoes and pressing a gentle kiss to the end of his nose, “You’re safe, baby.”

He kissed you then; harsher than he’d intended, but you met him with equal intensity, your hands sliding into his hair to draw him closer, teeth clashing. The need then, to be with you, became overwhelming—he pushed your pants down frantically, then undid the tie of your wrap tunic and slid it off your shoulders, grunting when he realized you wore no chest band beneath.

You’d started undressing him, but when your hand passed over his length he brushed his fingers against your pebbled nipples in response and you hissed, body jerking away slightly. Poe’s eyes snapped open and he quickly pulled back from kissing you, “Sweetheart, did I hurt you?”

You tugged at his shirt, smiling softly, and he removed it before glancing down your body, his eyes drinking in every glorious curve, the fullness to your breasts. “Breastfeeding is hard on these,” You replied, gesturing toward your somewhat swollen nipples, “You didn’t hurt me, just need to be careful.”

Poe nodded his understanding, surveying your postpartum body with a new wild hunger he’d never before experienced. You were beautiful, always, but something about seeing your shape with its new fullness, your milk-filled breasts and soft stomach—it made him feral. With a groan, he quickly helped you to lay down on the blanket, careful to avoid your chest as he peppered kisses down your warm body, relishing in every square inch of you. “My beautiful love,” He spread your legs apart, his hand trailing down the slit of your wet heat, “Oh sweet girl, so wet for me. You’re a fucking dream.”

As much as he wanted to taste you, lick you until you couldn’t see, the need to be inside of you was too great to allow for any more time apart. Propping himself on one arm, Poe gripped your thigh, lifting it from the ground, and gently rocked his hips forward, groaning as you tightly gripped around his cock, your body needing his just as much.

“Oh fuck, Poe...”

“I know—I’ve got you,” Poe whispered, settling between your thighs, he dropped your leg and lowered his body fully over yours, careful to keep his weight on his arm. He captured your lips against his as he slowly dragged his cock back, then rutted forward, building a slow pace meant to draw out the feeling of bliss for as long as possible. “Missed you—dreamt of you every night, baby, every fucking night.”

You had one hand tangled in Poe’s curls, the other pressed into his lower back and your legs wrapped around his hips. You whimpered, “N-never leaving you again,” The words came out strained, thick with emotion even as you moaned at the feel of him moving within you, “It’s you a-and me, f-forever. Forever.” Your back arched slightly, and Poe groaned at the change in angle, your walls clamping around him harder.

“Fuck,” He felt himself getting close and quickly slid his free hand between his body and yours, slamming into you as he circled your clit tenderly. “Forever, sweet girl, I promise—cum for me, let me feel you—“

“Poe—“ You whined, your eyes fluttering as your pleasure spiked, and he felt your body go rigid beneath him as his hips stuttered—he came with you, spilling himself with a groan as you trembled and moaned, then pressing himself as deep as he could while you both came tumbling back to each other.

When Poe finally collapsed next to you, he slipped out of you carefully before tugging you into his side, pressing his lips to the crown of your head while you both caught your breath. “Still...still got it, flyboy.” You joked, giggling when Poe shifted to look down at you with a smirk.

“I was going to say the same to you.”

“Ah well, it’s busy work running around after a baby, you know. Keeps you fit.” You grinned, snuggling against Poe as the cool night air seemed to seep between you. He reached above his head, grabbing his shirt and tossing it over your upper body to protect you from getting too cold.

Once he was satisfied you were comfortable, he rolled so that he was looking down at you, your head resting on his forearm. “Sweet girl, you—I mean, Charlie is perfect. You kept her safe, raised her, taught her who I was...I can never thank you enough, but I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying.”

“Oh Poe,” You smiled, your eyes glistening as you gazed up at him with a fondness that he felt almost undeserving of, a hand cupping his cheek. “You came back to us, that’s all I could have ever asked for—you’re alive and you’re here.” You choked up, then, and Poe leaned down to press his forehead to yours, cupping your cheek softly with one hand.

You lay together for a short while; until the cold became too much. Curling up together in bed sounded almost too good to be true. “Come on, sweet girl, let’s get some sleep,” He gathered you in his arms, pausing as you grabbed at the clothing he wasn’t going to bother putting on, and carried you into the yurt, the blanket abandoned in the grass outside.

When Poe had his body pressed against yours under the comforter of the bed you’d slept in alone all this time, he kept his arms securely around you and felt peace wash over him, “Going to introduce you to some pretty special friends in the morning, and then we can plan our next steps, my love.”

With a happy little sigh, you tucked your head into his neck and fell asleep promptly, your light snores lulling him until, just at the precipice of sleep, he smiled to himself—he was home.

The first thing you noticed when you woke early the next morning was the bed next to you was empty. Your hands roamed for Poe and when you didn’t find him you sat up quickly, wondering if perhaps you had dreamt of the day prior, of him coming home...

Only, a little giggle from outside your room sounded and you heard Poe proudly declare, “Clever, just like your mama, Charlie girl.”

You hadn’t ever known happiness like this, truly. Your heart was full and repaired and you couldn’t believe how after so much time, so many years of mistakes and pain, you were married to your best friend and he was currently waiting for you to wake up while caring for your baby, the little girl who shared traits of the both of you. This felt like a dream, but it was so raw it couldn’t be anything other than real.

You sprang from bed, throwing on your robe and hurrying out to see Poe holding Charlie as he sat in the armchair, bouncing her on his knee as she giggled for him. When you paused to watch, a smile stretching over your face, he glanced up at you and his own broadened, eyes shining brightly with affection.

“Morning, mama,” His thick morning voice always sent heat through you, and the fact that he was sitting shirtless, his hard muscles flexing as he moved Charlie only doused further fuel on the fire within. He seemed to read that in your expression, his soft eyes darkening somewhat before he sent you a wink that said there’d be time for that again later.

Charlie had looked around to follow Poe’s gaze and she cooed loudly when she saw you, her hands raised towards you. You frowned, “Oh, now you want mama time? Could it be that you’re hungry?” Charlie made grabby hands as Poe laughed and you pulled her from his arms before settling into the chair next to him, easing your robe open enough for her to have access to your chest.

Settling her in for her meals was second nature to you; you knew the way she preferred to lay, how to hold her just right, that she liked to feed quietly in the mornings but at night you were allowed to rub her back and speak soothing words to her. As she began to suckle, you carefully adjusted your breast to make the angle more comfortable, then glanced up remembering that Poe was watching.

The expression on his face was stunning—he was watching you rapturously, as though the sight before him was the most beautiful he’d ever seen. You saw emotion mixed in with the awe and the adoration, and you knew he was feeling grateful he hadn’t missed something as pure as this entirely, that Charlie hadn’t grown too much.

You leaned your head back to rest and smiled at Poe warmly, “She’s on partial foods now, you can feed her yourself a little later, if you want.” You whispered, and his face brightened even more. You felt a bit like those first days after you’d joined him and your brother on D’Qar, the giddy joy of reuniting making the smiles stretch for days.

“I’d love that,” He shuffled his chair closer, resting one hand behind where you were holding Charlie, the other raising to brush over your cheek. “Does it...hurt?”

You shook your head and his look of concern relaxed, “Not really, she’s good about not biting,” Poe cringed at the thought and you giggled, “She’s a good baby. Now, you said you wanted us to meet your friends?”

He nodded, his expression softening sadly, “They’re the reason I was able to make it home to you...I have so much to tell you, but I want you to meet them first.” Poe’s eyes dropped down to watch Charlie again and you let him have a moment, recognizing he had suffered a great deal over the year and a half apart.

You let your eyes wander over his bare torso and noticed now, in the morning light, that he had some new scars, some angrier than the others. The idea of him having been hurt made your stomach sink, and you couldn’t help but lean toward him, capturing his lips against yours when he glanced up. He moaned softly at the tender kiss, petting your hair, and you let yourself sink into the moment, pulling back only when Charlie stirred.

“Where did you leave them?”

Poe gestured toward the main village, “Just outside the village, on our ship. I could go and get them—“

You shook your head, “I think a walk will do us all good. Let’s get dressed, eh Charlie?” You made a face at the baby, who was sleepily peering up at you, happy with her tummy now full, and she smiled at your expression.

Poe insisted on changing Charlie’s diaper and dressing her, so you merely stood by and watched, handing him her daytime outfit and trying not to laugh too hard as he struggled. You could see the joy in his eyes as he attempted to get her arms through the sleeves, his big hands so incredibly gentle as he worked. It took about twice as long as normal, but eventually, Charlie was ready to go and you took her from Poe, strapping her to your chest with a sarong, watching him as he dressed.

You wanted to ask about the new scars. But you were afraid when you did, it would open up the vault he was currently guarding and all of the terrible stories would come tumbling out. Enjoying this peaceful reunion for a little longer wouldn’t hurt anyone, so you resisted the urge and instead popped your head into Kes’s room to let him know where you were going.

“It was hard, not knowing anything,” You admitted quietly as you walked along with Poe, Charlie gazing around happily. The arm draped over your shoulders tightened somewhat at your words. “Leia sure picked a good place for us, though. It’s been quiet, safe.”

You glanced at him, the tension in his jaw confirming something you’d suspected since he’d arrived-after he’d mentioned it was thanks to one of his new friends that he’d been able to find you. Leia was gone, but he didn’t know how to tell you—just as much as you were avoiding asking him for details, he was reluctant to give them.

“Yeah, she knew what she was doing,” He replied softly before his eyes lit up. You followed his gaze and saw a large ship, its ramp lowered, come into view just as a familiar orange and white blur was speeding in your direction.

“Buddy!” You yelled, hurrying forward and dropping to one knee to greet BB8, one arm securing Charlie closer to ensure she didn’t get too jostled from your movements. The droid beeped and whirred excitedly and the baby began to giggle, craning her head to look at BB8. “Charlie, this is BB8, wave hi—“ You laughed as Charlie roughly flopped her chubby arm in the direction of the droid.

You could feel Poe’s hand resting lightly on the crown of your hand, and you looked up at him to speak but before you could, another voice chimed in. “Poe, man, you found them!” A handsome man with enviably smooth skin and a friendly grin was walking towards you with a pretty woman who had sad eyes next to him.

Poe helped you to stand back up, his arm securing around you as he led you forward to meet his friends. “Finn—Rey, meet my better half, (y/n), and my kid, Charlie.”

You saw the pair shoot wide-eyed looks at Poe when he said Charlie’s name, and you realized he must have told them about you, about your brother. The thought warmed your heart even further. You reached out and grasped each of their hands in turn, grinning, “It is really lovely to meet you, thank you for getting Poe back to me and Charlie safely.”

Finn smiled warmly, “Hey, he saved our asses as much as we saved his,” Poe shoved his arm playfully, laughing. Rey was quiet, you noticed, gazing at the baby thoughtfully. You wondered who she had lost.

“Do you want to hold her?” You asked, and Rey met your eyes in surprise, though after a brief pause she smiled nervously and nodded. Her smile lit up her whole face, and you were glad you thought to offer the baby as a way to pull it from her—babies had a way of making the sad a little less daunting.

You lifted Charlie out of the sarong, “Say hi to Auntie Rey, Charlie!” Charlie began to babble incoherently in that cheerful baby talk as she settled against Rey’s hip. She watched her, smiling to herself, before glancing between you and Poe.

“She’s beautiful,” Rey’s hand caught one of Charlie’s, squeezing gently, “Takes after her mama, clearly.” She tacked on, throwing Poe a look that made you laugh out loud.

Finn, you noticed, was watching Rey hold the baby with a quiet expression of adoration that made you smile inwardly. He caught you staring and grinned cheekily. As he began to chide Poe teasingly, a sudden memory came to mind, of the last time you had spoken to your father.

“Just remember, family always comes first—but we can make our own family, sweetie,” Dad squeezed your hand, “Family is what we make it, big or small, blood-related or not. So you make sure to surround yourself with good people, people you love and trust, and you’ll always have a family.”

And as you stood there, gazing at your new friends, the people who had ensured your Poe had come back to you, you realized that you were only adding to your family today. You felt like the luckiest woman in the entire galaxy, your heart was bursting with joy and hope for everything still to come.

Poe pressed a kiss to your temple, and you shot him a smile, knowing he felt it too.

Here, you thought, was where the next chapter of your life began. And you couldn’t be more excited.

A/N—THANK YOU for reading this story, for enjoying this journey with me and loving my characters so much. I’m hopeful you loved this final chapter and can’t wait to hear your thoughts. And of course, we still have the epilogue coming!🤍

Taglist

@mermaidxatxheart @foxilayde @eleinemk @paintballkid711 @mylifeisactuallyamess @20th-centu-fairy-girl @deitysnips @cannedsoupsucks @ubri812 @poedameronloverx @hoeforthefictional @astrological-bitch @itsnottilly @itsdameron @alex-sulli @generousrunawaydonut @wildmoonflower @onlyferorder66 @afootnoteinyourhappiness @asaucecoveredsomething @ladydmalfoy

[olivemac]

1300 miles | chapter one | b.b.

Summary | Bucky Barnes is adjusting to civilian life, living in Brooklyn, visiting Sam in Delacroix when he can, and trying to figure out what he wants. When he meets Jo Landry, the tattooed lead singer of a New Orleans-based band, he thinks he might have found the answer. Too bad they live 1300 miles apart.

Time Frame | post-TFATWS

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x fem!oc

Rating | explicit

Warnings | mentions of combat-related injuries, alcohol use, tattoos/body piercings, coarse language, gay male character, bisexual female character, recreational/medicinal drug use (weed), pet names (doll, Sarge), smut (f/m, mutual masturbation, fingering, slight dom!Bucky, praise kink), angst if you squint but not really, and all the romance tropes/fluff because I'm a sucker for it; more warnings to come; 18+ ONLY, minors DNI

A/N | It’s my birthday, so to celebrate I’m sharing chapter one of my new WIP. This started its life as a one-shot but then my enneagram 4 brain took over and now it’s looking like it’ll be a multi-chapter short. Enjoy!

Also, feedback – comments, likes, etc. – is always appreciated, my loves.

AO3 link | 1300 miles playlist

_____

The sun is just starting to sink in the sky as Sam and Bucky finish the latest repairs on the boat. Sam has spent the last hour pestering Bucky about things he’s missed over the last 80 years — things he needs to do, shows and movies he needs to watch, music to listen to, places to go. Bucky is considering the consequences of putting his vibranium fist through the new Captain America’s face.

“You’re telling me you’ve never been to New Orleans?” Sam half-shouts at Bucky in amusement.

“Sam, besides the airport, when would I have been to New Orleans?” Bucky sighs.

“We’re going. Tonight.” He stands up. “But none of that Bourbon Street bullshit. I know a place,” he says.

_____

The bar is crowded on a Saturday night, but they manage to find a table near the small stage where a band is setting up.

“I’ll get drinks,” Sam says, heading to the bar.

“Sam said he knows the owners?” Bucky asks Sarah.

“Jo and Danny. Yeah,” Sarah says. “Danny served with Sam on his last tour. Real young kid when he served. Took some shrapnel to the chest and face in an RPG explosion and got out early. He and Sam kept in touch.”

Bucky watches Sam talk to a man with a mop of curly, brown hair and an auburn beard behind the bar. From where he sits, Bucky can see a jagged scar peeking out from the top of the man’s beard over his cheek, stopping just below his right eye.

Sam returns with three beers. "Danny says hi," he tells Sarah. "Says he'll come over when he has a free minute."

"Jo around?" Sarah asks.

Sam nods toward the stage. "She's playing tonight. Danny says she's in the office rewriting the set list."

Bucky sips his beer and looks around. When they entered, there was a wave of enthusiasm as people recognized Sam as Captain America, but it seems to have died down and now no one is paying them much attention. Bucky prefers it that way, though he’s happy that people are excited for Sam.

“Speak of the devil,” Sam says, smiling and nodding toward a woman emerging from a door beside the bar marked ‘Employees Only.’ She’s wearing a loose-fitting white tank tucked into light-wash jeans cuffed just above a pair of black combat boots. Her wavy, dark hair fans out behind her as she rushes towards the stage. She's clutching a piece of paper in one hand, and the smile on her face makes Bucky's heart stutter for a moment.

Sam catches the way Bucky is watching Jo as she jumps onto the stage. He elbows Sarah and nods at the lovestruck look on Bucky's face, and they share a smirk. Bucky doesn't notice the exchange. He's too busy studying Jo. Her arms are covered in tattoos, from shoulders to fingers. When she tucks a strand of hair behind her left ear, Bucky can see the row of piercings adorning the curve of her ear. There's a gold ring between her nostrils. Bucky's seen some of the kids in Brooklyn with that piercing, but he doesn't know what it's called. He's seen plenty of women like her since moving back to New York — with tattoos and piercings and dark hair — but there's something about the combination with her green eyes and soft smile that makes his mouth go dry and his palm sweat.

He takes another sip of his beer to ground himself.

Jo picks up an acoustic-electric guitar from its stand, swings the strap over her shoulder, and plugs the guitar into a small amp at her feet. She raises her right hand in the air and sets a count with her fingers — one, two, three, four. The band starts, and Jo strums the guitar, smiling at the crowd. When she steps up to the microphone and opens her mouth, Bucky is surprised at how sweet her voice sounds. He was expecting it to be rougher, but it's gentle and warm, and he likes the way her mouth looks as it forms the words to the song.

Next to him, Sam taps his foot along to the music. Bucky can't remember the last time he saw a band play live. God, he thinks, it was before the war, before everything. He takes another sip of his beer before Sarah hands him a fresh bottle. He hadn't even noticed that she'd left the table and gone to the bar. He smiles and nods his thanks.

Sarah leans over and whispers to Bucky just loud enough for Sam to hear, as well, "You should ask her out after the show."

Bucky grimaces and shakes his head. As he told Yori once, there's a dance to these things, and he's eighty years out of practice. Plus, his last date didn't exactly go as planned.

But he can't stop staring at Jo's painted black nails and tattooed fingers as they move across the guitar strings. LOVE is written across the top knuckles of her right hand, HATE on the left. A series of lines and dots decorate her lower knuckles. There’s a snake curling around her left wrist, its inked head resting on her hand, and several large peonies cover the back of her right hand and up her forearm. Bucky wonders what her tattooed hands would look like wrapped around his cock. He also wonders where else on her body she has tattoos and what that voice would sound like when he's between her thighs. Fuck.

The band transitions into another song, and Jo's eyes land on Bucky. She's used to people staring at her, especially when she's on stage, but she's caught by the way his eyes never leave her, never wander to look at the band's female bassist or to Sarah sitting next to him. She's certain his stare could burn a hole right through her, and she wouldn't even complain. He’s fucking gorgeous.

She knows who he is, of course. She’s seen the recent footage of him with Sam in New York and read the Times article detailing his move from assassin to almost Avenger. Plus, her twin brother, Danny, was a bit of a history nerd as a kid so she’s definitely seen a Captain America documentary that mentioned the Howling Commandos. And they may or may not have hidden a fugitive Captain America and Falcon following the Accords.

Jo tears her eyes away from the super soldier and focuses on the rest of the audience. She can see Danny behind the bar, flirting with the man he's been trying to sleep with for the past two weeks. She catches his eye and smiles her encouragement between lyrics. Get his number! she tries to say with her eyes. Danny's usually pretty good at reading her mind. She doesn't know if it's a brother thing or a twin thing or just a Danny thing, but when he holds up his phone in surrender and smiles back at her, she knows he got the message.

The first half of their set ends with a crash of drums and a long guitar riff. Jo takes a swig from the mason jar full of water she keeps on stage. Her eyes meet Bucky's again as she swallows, and he licks his bottom lip. Heat curls in the pit of her stomach at the thought of what else that tongue could do.

Willow, the band's bassist, steps over and whispers in Jo's ear, “If you don’t fuck him after the show, I’m going to."

When Jo looks at her, she can see the amusement dancing in Willow's eyes. She rolls her own eyes and avoids looking directly at Bucky for the rest of the set.

_____

After the last song, Jo thanks the crowd and helps the rest of the band tidy up the stage, unplugging amps and turning off the mics. She's still trying not to look at Bucky, even though she can feel his eyes on her.

"You have to stop staring, man," Sam whispers to Bucky.

"I'm not staring," Bucky grumbles.

Sarah laughs, "You're definitely staring."

“Here," Sam says, "I'll introduce you." And before Bucky can protest, Sam is waving Jo over. "Josephine," Sam says, hugging her.

"Samuel," she returns, smiling. "Congrats on the new gig." She punches his shoulder lightly. "Better you than that John Walker douchebag," she says. Bucky snorts, and she catches his eye and smirks before turning to Sarah. "Hey, Sarah." They exchange pleasantries while Bucky tries to get his tongue to turn back from lead.

Sam points at Bucky, "This is—"

Bucky stands. "Bucky. Barnes."

Jo smiles and shakes his gloved hand. "Jo. Landry," she says, matching his cadence.

Sam was right. Bucky can't stop staring at her. This close, he can see there's a bit of gold in the green of her eyes and a slight gap between her two front teeth. She smells like sandalwood and citrus and just a little bit like pot.

Jo returns his stare. His five o’clock shadow doesn’t hide the dimple in his chin, and she briefly imagines pressing her lips against it. She’s trying to name the exact shade of blue of his eyes when Sam clears his throat.

She’s not usually so easily flustered by attractive people, but Bucky's blue eyes and chiseled jaw have done a number on her self-control. “Let me grab a drink,” Jo says, turning quickly.

“No need,” Danny says, appearing in front of her and handing her a glass. He leans in and whispers in her ear, “He’s cute.”

“Please fuck off,” Jo hisses in return, widening her eyes at him. She’s only half-serious, and Danny knows it. It’s a twin thing.

When she looks at Bucky again, he’s smirking, and she wonders if enhanced hearing is a super soldier trait. Bucky pulls out the fourth chair at the small table for her to sit, and Jo can't remember the last time someone did that for her.

"The show was great," Sarah says, grabbing Jo's attention.

"Thanks," Jo replies. "Took a while to get back to it after…” she snaps her fingers but doesn’t finish her sentence.

"You were snapped?" Bucky asks.

Jo nods. "Yeah. You?"

"Yeah."

"Cheers," she says sarcastically, raising her glass in a toast. She shakes her head again and pushes her hair behind her ear. "Five years just," she holds her hands open, "gone. Danny was still here, holding all this together by himself."

She tucks one leg under the other, and her knee bumps Bucky’s beneath the table. When she moves to pull her knee away from his, he places a gloved hand on her thigh, holding her leg in place.

Bucky surprises even himself with this move. He hasn’t been this forward with a woman since an auburn-haired nurse in Italy during the war. With her, it was all hands and mouths and skin on skin because he was certain he was going to die any day. Now he supposedly has all the time in the world. He just isn’t sure what he wants to do with it.

But in this moment, he's comfortable here, in this tiny bar, with a beer in his hand and Jo's knee pressed against his. He's confident that Sam would never introduce him to someone he couldn't trust.

Bucky's flirted with Sarah, sure, but that was mostly to irritate to Sam. And as much as he doesn't want to admit it, the thought of something happening between himself and Sarah and then ending badly and ruining his relationship with Sam makes his stomach hurt. Pursuing Jo seems safer in that regard. She and Sam are friends, but if — when, he thinks — he ruins things, he can just go back to New York instead of losing his only friend.

Jo asks Sarah about AJ and Cass to distract herself from the butterflies forming in her stomach at Bucky’s touch, and Sam starts a story about the boys' latest interests. Bucky is content to listen to the three of them talk, his eyes barely leaving Jo. When she flicks her gaze over to him every now and then, she doesn't seem phased by his staring, and she hasn't pulled her knee away from where it's softly touching his. After a while, Danny emerges from behind the bar and joins their table, introducing himself to Bucky with a firm handshake.

While Danny and Sam trade updates about people they know, Jo leans towards Bucky and asks, “You want another drink?”

“Sure,” Bucky replies.

Jo doesn’t say anything else, just nods her head toward the bar, stands, and offers Bucky her hand. He takes it, the leather glove of his right hand warm against her palm. He wishes he could feel her skin without the gloves between them. He doesn’t usually wear them around Sam and Sarah and everyone in Delacroix, but he wasn’t sure how the metal arm would be perceived at this bar he’s never been to. Sam told him not to worry about it, but Bucky doesn’t like to draw unnecessary attention to himself.

Jo leads him through the sea of tables to a barstool, then moves behind the bar and grabs him a fresh bottle of the beer he's been drinking all night. "Unless you want something stronger," she says, pausing before she hands it to him.

"This is good," Bucky replies.

She pops the top and hands him the bottle. He takes a sip as he watches her maneuver around the bartender on duty to fix herself another whiskey sour before taking a seat on the barstool next to him.

"Full disclosure; because it's only fair," she says, taking a sip of her drink. "I know who you are, Sergeant Barnes. Not the whole story, but bits and pieces."

Bucky pauses. He searches her eyes for the fear he's expecting but finds none. "And you're okay with that?" he asks.

Jo quirks the corner of her mouth up in a half-smile and says, “If Sam trusts you, I trust you."

“I’m not great with meeting new people, and I was telling myself the same thing about you," Bucky admits, almost sheepishly.

“You know we can never tell Sam about this, right?" Jo says, conspiratorially. "We’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Never,” Bucky agrees, and knocks his beer bottle lightly against her glass in understanding.

They talk for a while, just the two of them alone at the end of the bar. Jo asks him how he likes Louisiana ("Hot, but the people are friendly"); where he's staying ("Sarah's"); when he's heading back to New York ("A week from tomorrow"); what he likes to do for fun ("Still figuring that out"); his favorite place ("Wakanda") and favorite book ("The Hobbit"); and a myriad of other questions — some of which Bucky answers easily and some that make him pause. He makes her give her own answers to each one in turn.

Jo leans close to Bucky so she can hear him over the noise of the room, and he takes the opportunity to study her features more closely. He's practically mapped all of her face when her eyes leave his for a brief second and land on Sam, Sarah, and Danny staring at them from the table across the room.

"Don't look now," she whispers, leaning even closer, "But we seem to have an audience."

Bucky makes a big show of looking over his shoulder at the group.

"I said 'don't look!'" Jo laughs and swats casually at his arm.

Bucky takes the opportunity to pin her hand with his own, holding it tightly and licking his bottom lip before smiling at her. He can see the blush paint her cheeks and creep down her neck and chest.

He likes Jo, likes how easy it feels to be around her. He isn't used to that. He isn't used to feeling comfortable with people. Hell, he thinks, I barely feel comfortable with myself. But there's something about Jo that makes him feel safe and calm. Of course, there's attraction there — plenty of it — but he's sure it's more than that.

For her part, Jo is enamored with Bucky. She likes his hard edges and his snark, but she also likes the small glimpses he's given her of the man beneath all of that. She doesn't usually fall for people so easily, but she's found herself drowning in the sea of blues that make up Bucky's eyes, and she doesn't want to be rescued. How fucking cliche, she tells herself.

"We should probably go back over there," Bucky says, squeezing her hand once before releasing it.

They both stand and make their way back to the table. Bucky pulls Jo's chair out for her again, but this time, he makes sure to pull it a little closer to his chair in the process. This doesn't go unnoticed by Sam who smirks at him. Bucky returns the smirk with a thin-lipped smile of his own before scooting even closer to Jo.

Jo finds it hard to focus on the conversation in front of her with Bucky's warm body so close to her own, and she realizes she misses the pleasant feeling of his gloved hand around hers. She places her own hand on his thigh and hopes he gets the hint.

Bucky’s fascinated by even the slightest movements of Jo's tattooed fingers, and when her hand rests on his denim-clad thigh, he thinks the sight alone might kill him. Before he can second-guess himself, he pulls the glove off his right hand and links his own flesh and bone fingers with hers.

Jo doesn't look at Bucky — she's trying not to draw attention to her hand in his lap — but Bucky watches the corner of her mouth quirk upwards into a smile, and he squeezes her hand in response.

The conversation continues a bit longer before Danny leaves the table to check in with his bartender. Jo excuses herself to get another drink, and Bucky watches her pop behind the bar to fill a glass for herself.

"I need to get home, relieve the babysitter," Sarah says when she finishes her beer.

"We're heading out then," Sam says, then turns to Bucky, "You coming?"

Bucky looks toward Jo and says, "No, I'm gonna stick around. I'll get a cab back or get a hotel room in the city."

Sam smirks. "I don't think you're gonna need a hotel room, man."

Bucky rolls his eyes.

"Just promise me you'll use protection," Sam laughs. "We don't need any little super soldiers running around just yet."

Bucky gives him a sarcastic smile, but realizes Sam's probably right, and he definitely doesn't have any condoms in his wallet. He's not planning on sleeping with Jo tonight — he just met her, and he's not sure he's ready for that yet — but if the army taught him anything, it's to be prepared. As if reading his mind, Sam pulls out his wallet and places a condom in Bucky's palm before pulling him in for a hug and clapping him on the back.

"Have fun, man," Sam says.

Sam and Sarah say their goodbyes to Danny and Jo on their way out, and Bucky joins Jo at the bar, sitting on the barstool next to her where they sat earlier.

"Sticking around, soldier?" she asks. She reaches for his dog tags and tugs them gently. The drinks have been strong, and she's feeling more flirtatious than she would otherwise.

"If you don't mind," Bucky replies.

Jo smiles and reaches for his hand this time. "Not at all."

"Are you gonna finish your interrogation of me?" Bucky asks, amusement apparent in his voice.

Jo laughs in return. “I thought I'd read your palm instead," she says, turning his hand over in her own.

Bucky snorts but doesn't pull his hand away. "Is this a trick you use on all the guys?"

"And girls," Jo says, meeting his eyes. Then she studies his hand carefully, running her index finger across the lines that crisscross his palm.

"Your dominant hand," she continues, "determines your future, while your non-dominant hand is tied to your past."

Bucky snorts again at the truth of it all.

"I'm not making this up!" Jo laughs. "I mean, someone did, but I'm not!" She can see the laughter shining in Bucky's eyes, so she goes on, "Your head line is deep, meaning your thinking is clear and focused, but it's also curved downward which indicates a creative spirit and an appetite for literature and fantasy." She looks up at him, "Explains the love for Tolkien."

"I'm not sure I'm buying this," Bucky says.

"You've literally fought aliens, and you're gonna give me a hard time over palm reading," Jo laughs.

"The aliens were real," Bucky deadpans.

"And in New Orleans, palm reading and psychics and crystal balls and voodoo are real," Jo says, still laughing. "But I promise not to read your palm again or read your aura or get out the tarot cards."

Bucky likes the way her slight accent makes New Orleans sound more like Nawlins. He also likes the sound of her laughter and the way her face lights up when she smiles. She's still holding his hand in her own, so he turns his palm over in hers and brings her tattooed knuckles to his lips.

_____

Meanwhile, the bar closes, and Danny and the bartender clean glasses and close up for the night.

Danny points at Jo as he comes around the bar. "I’m locking up then heading upstairs," he says.

"Thanks, love," Jo replies.

Danny walks the bartender out and locks the front door, then retraces his steps to the back of the bar. On his way past Jo, he stops and kisses her on the cheek, saying, "Be good. And set the alarm."

He turns to Bucky. "And you, Sergeant Barnes," he says, pointing at him now, "I know you're an Avenger or whatever, but if you hurt her, I'll kill you."

"Bye, Danny," Jo says, rolling her eyes as he disappears through the door marked 'Employees Only.' "Don't worry about him," Jo says, turning back to Bucky.

“Older brother, right?” Bucky says. He understands; he was an older brother once.

“Twins, actually,” Jo smiles.

Bucky takes a sip of his beer. "Sarah said Danny served with Sam," he says.

"Yeah. Afghanistan. A lifetime ago," Jo says. “He only had one more mission before he could come home so he switched with someone. An RPG barely missed the helicopter he was in, and he was pretty badly injured in the explosion and the resulting crash. Almost lost an eye. He came home, got out of the Air Force, went to business school. Now we own the bar..." She pauses to take the last sip of her drink. "...and the building. Sam's really helped Danny get past everything."

"He's good at that," Bucky says.

"Another thing we can never tell him," Jo laughs.

"Agreed. So, when do I get to ask about your tattoos?" he questions.

"What do you want to know?" she asks.

Bucky licks his bottom lip. "Anything."

He likes her dagger tattoo the best. It’s inked on the inside of her right forearm, nestled amongst the peonies, the hilt facing the crook of her elbow and the knife’s tip pointed toward her wrist. It’s feminine and dangerous and incredibly sexy. She blushes when he tells her how much he likes it. He doesn't tell her it reminds him of one of his favorite knives, currently tucked at the bottom of his backpack back in Sarah's living room.

"In some ways, they're my armor," she explains. "When I'm on stage, people look at the tattoos, not me, and I kind of like that. It lets me be whoever I want to up there."

Bucky understands the desire to hide better than anyone. But she knows who he is so there's really no point in hiding from her any longer. Plus, he feels like his arm is something she would understand, something she could accept — not just because of her brother's military record but because of her own unique body modifications.

He pulls his left glove off and shrugs out of his leather jacket, revealing the vibranium arm beneath his black t-shirt.

Jo takes in the black metal and gold details. "That," she says, pointing to his arm, "is lovely."

"It's lethal," Bucky warns.

She cocks her head to the side and says, "If you're trying to scare me, it won't work, Sergeant Barnes."

Bucky can't stop the corner of his lip from pulling up in the slightest hint of a smile.

"Okay,” she says, placing her palms flat on the bar top. “You want another beer?" she asks.

Jo stands and turns to move behind the bar, but Bucky's vibranium hand on her arm stops her. She looks at him curiously, and he slides his arm behind her back and pulls her flush against his chest. She settles between his open thighs, her palms resting gently on top of his legs. He's staring at her so intensely she's convinced he willburn that hole right through her, but she can't bring herself to look away.

He leans in, his lips only a breath away from hers.

"Can I kiss you?" Bucky finally asks, his flesh hand moving up to cup her cheek.

"Please," Jo whispers, desperately.

Bucky closes the distance between them, and his lips meet hers. He's hesitant at first, but when he feels Jo respond, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing even closer, he runs his tongue along the seam of her lips until she opens them for him. She tastes like bourbon and lemon from the whiskey sours she's been drinking, and Bucky loves it. His tongue sweeps along the roof of her mouth, and Jo moans. Bucky is determined to hear that sound again.

He kisses across the corner of her mouth and over her jaw. The hand that was cupping her cheek moves to her hair to angle her head backwards and give him better access to the bare skin of her neck. He laves his tongue over the corded muscles there, then nips at the skin with his teeth. She moans again, and Bucky is on fire.

Jo's right hand weaves into his short hair and tugs until his mouth comes away from her neck. He catches his breath while Jo nuzzles his nose with her own and places a soft kiss against the Cupid's bow of his upper lip. His eyes meet hers, and her pupils are blown wide with lust.

The need to kiss her again is overwhelming. Bucky’s lips find hers, and Jo somehow leans even closer into his body, her hands tracing down his chest to his waist. Bucky lets his own hands move to Jo’s ribs, resting just beneath her chest, his thumbs teasing the underside of each breast. Jo gasps when Bucky’s right thumb moves across her taut nipple.

Fuck, he thinks, I need to slow down. While he’s shared kisses with the handful of women he’s met on dating apps, he hasn’t done anything this intimate in a lifetime.

Bucky pulls away, panting. He rests his forehead against Jo's and stares into her green eyes.

"I should leave," he says. “I’m getting carried away. I…I want to do this right.”

And he does. Desperately. He wants to buy her flowers and take her out and learn what makes her swoon. But he also wants to map every tattoo on her body with his fingers and tongue and then fuck her until she can’t walk straight.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

Jo laughs breathily. “We don’t have to do anything, but it’s almost three o'clock in the morning and your ride already left. You can sleep on my couch if you want to be a gentleman.”

Bucky groans. “I should be a gentleman."

She kisses him again, lightly, then moves away to set the alarm and turn the rest of the lights out. She leads him through the 'Employees Only' door and up a set of stairs to her apartment.

"You're not allergic to cats, are you?" Jo asks, as she unlocks the door.

"No," Bucky says. As far as he knows, he's not allergic to anything thanks to the knock-off serum, but he doesn't say that.

Inside her apartment, Jo kicks off her combat boots at the door, and Bucky does the same, leaving them both in their socked feet. There's a fluffy black cat sitting on the back of the green velvet sofa.

"That's Toulouse," Jo says. "Or Louie. He doesn't answer to either, so it really doesn't matter what I call him."

The cat regards Bucky with indifference before standing up, stretching, and leaving the room.

"Guest bathroom’s just there,” she nods. “Let me get you some blankets and pillows for the couch," Jo continues. "Unless you've changed your mind about being a gentleman." She smirks at him.

Bucky laughs through his nose. “Don’t tempt me.”

Jo leaves the room for a moment, which gives Bucky a chance to look around. He's standing in her living room; one wall features a set of French doors that lead to a balcony overlooking the street, and the opposite wall holds bookcases stuffed from floor to ceiling with books, framed photographs, and various knick-knacks. From where he stands, he can see a small room with an upright piano and guitars hanging on the walls. The exterior walls of Jo's apartment are brick, and everything else is set in jewel tones. He likes it. It's dark and cozy, and from what he knows of Jo so far, her living space matches her well.

When she returns, Jo is holding a stack of blankets and pillows. She sets them on the ottoman and moves across the room to close the curtains.

"There are some sweats and a t-shirt there that should fit you" she says, turning to Bucky.

"Thanks," Bucky says, smiling softly.

Now that they're here, in her apartment, Bucky isn't sure what he's supposed to do or say. He can still feel the heat of Jo's lips on his, and he's painfully aware that the condom Sam gave him is still in his pocket.

Jo must sense the hesitation rolling off him because she crosses the room to stand in front of him and takes his hands in hers.

"Get some sleep, Sarge," she says, squeezing his hands in tandem before dropping them.

"Goodnight, Jo," Bucky returns.

_____

Bucky lays on Jo's couch in the dark beneath blankets that smell like laundry detergent. He wishes they smelled like her. He unlocks his phone and looks up the distance between New Orleans and Brooklyn. Just over thirteen hundred miles. He sighs and drops his phone onto the coffee table before closing his eyes and reliving each kiss as he falls asleep.

On the other side of the wall, Jo falls across her bed, deflated. She likes this guy. She wants him — painfully so. But leave it to her to fall for the one guy in her bar who lives half-way across the country.

_____

next chapter

[marvelsassbutts]

With You

Summary: Sam takes matters into his own hands to help Bucky have some fun outside of the apartment. When he finds a themed dance night, he and Bucky take to the floor and find a new level of their relationship.

aka : i really wanted to write sam and bucky dancing because i can't get it out of my head

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier; Marvel (MCU)

Rating: T

Pairing: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes

Words: 4,662

Link: With You

I can’t stop writing them because they’re the best pairing to write because you can literally do anything with them forever and ever and there’s always something new they’re throwing at me and their dynamic is just so set to them ??? name someone else doing it like sambucky , you can’t !

Preview under the cut!

They end up getting a place in Manhattan much to Bucky’s insistence. Sam told him he wouldn't mind living in Brooklyn, would love it actually, but Bucky pushed all that aside saying something about having a “city of their own.” Whatever that means. Sam tries not to dwell on it too long for fear that he’ll create an expectation that Bucky doesn’t necessarily share. Still, it feels good. A “city of their own” sounds limitless. Sounds like a promise.

Their apartment is nice: two bedrooms, one bath, a decent kitchen, and a balcony hanging off of the living room. For two dudes without a steady income it could be worse. Thankfully between Sam’s and Bucky’s contacts they make the whole arrangement work. Sam’s more than happy in his cozy 2-1 and nests easily into the space.

And Bucky ends up not being a half bad roommate.

He’s as neat as he is considerate. Whenever he makes himself a mug of coffee in the morning, he’s sure Sam’s tea is hot and steaming right beside it, all without evidence that he had used any milk, sugar, or honey. Everything back in its proper place and any spilled ingredients swept right up. He doesn’t turn the TV up too loud on the nights he can’t sleep and he never leaves the balcony door open for any pests to get through. In fact, the only time Sam can even think about hearing Bucky is during his showers or when he’s cooking. Those are the moments where he takes advantage of the bluetooth speaker Sarah got as a housewarming gift and lets his music fill the space he’s in until there’s barely room for anything else.

Most of it is music Sam wasn’t alive to know about (but appreciates the sound nonetheless) but every now and then Bucky will play a song from more recent years and Sam will indulge in it by singing along quietly to himself or, when he can, filling Bucky in on the history of the song. And Bucky, the perfect roommate and friend he is, always listens, a smile as soft as moonlight dancing across his lips.

More often than not, Sam has to force himself to stay focused.

Sam does notice though that where every now and then he’ll go out, meet up with a few friends or take some time to himself outside of the apartment, Bucky stays home. Sure, he’ll go to the grocery store when they’re low on food or sometimes to the cafe at the end of their block but more often than not Bucky can be found right here at home: lounging on the couch, cleaning up his room, trying a new recipe in the kitchen. Sam thinks he could use a change of pace.

“Hey, man, can I ask you something?” Sam sits at the raised counter that looks into the kitchen and his eyes follow Bucky as he reads from a cookbook – eyebrows pinched together and mouth barely forming words – then moves to their spice cabinet.

Bucky pulls out three different jars of spices. “You can ask me anything.”

“Do you not like leaving the apartment?”

Bucky blows a heavy breath out while he slowly shrugs. He’s still looking down at the spices when he answers with, “No, I'm fine leaving the apartment. Why?” He adds the spices to the pot on the stove.

“I've never really seen you go out. Nowhere far at least.”

Bucky goes back to the cookbook and pushes up the sleeves on his arms exposing the ribbons of muscle and the slowly flexing plates of vibranium. Sam diverts his eyes and wraps a tight hand around his knee to keep himself from jumping across the counter. Bucky’s always doing aggravating stuff like that. Being effortlessly handsome and shit.

“Uhmm,” he starts and squints at the words. “I sometimes go to the park,” he hesitantly says, like a man who has been to the park exactly once. “Maybe...a bookstore?”

“Oooh, someone get a leash on this guy.”

Bucky flashes Sam a quick look of exasperation. “You asked if I left the apartment, not my top five most thrilling moments.”

“And number one would be?”

“Cooking for you.” He looks up with a smile that’s half genuine, half teasing. Sam could melt into a puddle of goo on the floor. Is pretty sure he nearly does. “Your palate has proven to be a very fierce opponent.”

Sam hums back his acknowledgement. Bucky’s cooking is a miracle. Who knew a man who came from the dark boiling ages would one day learn how to make a more than half decent bouillabaisse?

“What would you like to do for fun? What's a thrill for the great James Buchanan Barnes?”

Bucky shrugs again and then holds his arms out to his sides. He drops them after a second but only to have a finger drag against the page of the book.

“I don't know, Sam. I've kinda had enough thrills to last a lifetime.”

“Duuuude,” Sam groans and lets his head fall back. “Give me something to work with.” Sam lowers his head and sees Bucky’s eyebrows knit together. Sam can’t tell if he’s confused by his statement or something in the cookbook. “You don’t hang out with anyone?”

Bucky looks up, eyes crystalline and wide, “I hang out with you.” Sam’s heart swells.

Fuck this guy.

“But you’re right,” Bucky continues. “That’s not really all that fun.”

Yo, fuck this guy.

[blurglesmurfklaine]

Death Cannot Stop True Love

Summary: After being kidnapped from his kidnapper by the Dread Pirate Roberts, Blaine reminisces on the poor farmboy who once held his heart.

The Princess Bride AU, one shot, 1.7k words

A/N: did i work on ANY of my wips this weekend? no <3

BUT DID I WATCH THE PRINCESS BRIDE TWICE AND THEN SUBSEQUENTLY WRITE THIS? YOu BET YOUR ASS I DID

I've never really written anything like this??? But I surprisingly had a lot of fun with it, so let me know what you think! :D

Read on Ao3

*** 

Blaine’s hands land a bit too roughly against the grey granite for his taste, rather put off by the masked stanger’s manhandling.

He supposes being kidnapped by Willaim Schuester, then having the Dread Pirate Roberts kidnap him from his kidnapper wasn’t quite the delightful way he’d expected to end his evening ride, either.

“Rest, your Highness,” the man in black commands, the strands of tattered fabric that secure his mask tied behind his head billowing in the wind. Blaine refuses to shiver at the cool air of the highland whipping across his face, not wanting to show this man any signs of weakness. “You’re going to need it.”

“You’re the one who’s going to need rest,” Blaine spits, turning to face the man and take a proper seat on the stone. “My betrothed will come for me. Prince Smythe is an excellent tracker. He could track a falcon on a cloudy day, and he and his infantry will have me back in the castle and you in shackles by dusk.”

He should not make such bold claims at a time like this, and certainly not to someone as deadly as the Dread Pirate Roberts. Well, Blaine is only mostly sure he’s speaking to the infamous Pirate known for his murderous voyages on his ship, “Revenge”, but he’s certain enough.

“Ah, yes,” the man says bitterly back, fingers drumming ansty along the handle of his sheathed sword. “Prince Smythe. You have much faith in your most beloved, don’t you?”

Having his daily outing interrupted by that faux-philosopher Schuester from earlier and his two henchmen was unpleasant enough, but of all the things he’s heard come out of someone’s mouth this was the foulest. The law of the land gives Smythe the right to choose his spouse, and he chose Blaine. Despite this, Blaine knows he could never love Sebastian back. Now when he’s really known and lost his true love.

“I never said he was my most beloved,” Blaine snarls.

No. That title belongs to a name too precious to be uttered in front of the likes of a cheating, stealing, slaying pirate.

It’s been five long and lonely years since his dearest Kurt left him to venture out to sea, but Blaine can still feel Kurt’s hand in his sometimes, can still feel the residual warmth, as if it were yesterday. When he closes his eyes, it’s Kurt’s beautiful blue ones that are waiting for him when he falls asleep. Every round that his heart beats, it beats for the long dead Kurt Hummel.

Kurt had been Blaine’s family’s farm boy, and Blaine, in his infantile arrogance, loved nothing more than to boss him around. Whether it was “Farmboy, shine my saddle. I want to see my face shining in it by morning,” or “Farmboy, take these jugs down by the river to wash,” Kurt always responded with the same simple sentence that sent Blaine’s heart aflutter.

“As you wish.”

Blaine didn’t understand it at first—how could he, when he’d never been in love—the quickening of his pulse when he was near Kurt, how his knees seemed to careen and fail when hazel met piercing blue.

He didn’t understand why, when he’d asked Kurt to clean the stables, Kurt had looked at him with electricity in his eyes like a thunderstorm, and Blaine felt compelled to add a meek, “Please?” to the end of his request. He didn’t understand why when Kurt so softly answered him with those three little words— “As you wish” —Blaine would light like a lantern from the inside out.

He didn’t understand why he asked Kurt to fetch him a pitcher hanging right by his own head, just so he could be graced with having him in such close proximity, chest to chest.

“As you wish,” Kurt had said, and Blaine didn’t understand the magnetic force drawing them closer and closer.

And then Kurt’s lips were on his, and oh, how Blaine finally understood. He understood why wars were waged over Helen of Troy, and why lutists serenaded the public with foolish tunes of love that were actually the least foolish things in their nature.

He understood that every time Kurt said, “As you wish,” what he truly was saying was “I love you.”

He understood so clearly, and everything that wasn’t Kurt was reduced to complete and utter nonsense.

For a short year, they lived on borrowed time. Kurt’s family wasn’t from money, so he left the farm—and with it, Blaine—to seek wealth enough to ask for Blaine’s hand in marriage. It wasn’t long until the news came back to him that Kurt had encountered the Dread Pirate Roberts on the high seas.

There are three things Blaine knows to be true. Kurt Hummel was his one true love, death takes everyone and does not discriminate, and the Dread Pirate Roberts never takes prisoners.

Kurt never returned to him after that.

“No, I suppose he’s not your one true love,” the Dread Pirate responds, unimpressed. “I wonder whether a royal-to-be like yourself has ever truly loved.”

“I’ve loved and been loved deeper than you will ever know!” Blaine counters. “He was stolen from me, his blood on your sword. I know who you are. You’re the Dread Pirate Roberts, admit it.”

The Dread Pirate gives a little flourish, his night black outfit a stark contrast to the verdant grass of the highlands. “With pride.”

“You killed my love.”

“Quite possible. I’ve killed many of noble blood aboard my ship.”

“You know nothing,” Blaine says. “He was poor. Poor and perfect and with eyes like the sea after a storm. I received notice that he’d crossed your path on the high seas, and as we all know, you never take prisoners.”

Roberts shrugs, displaying such upsetting nonchalance at Kurt’s demise. “Can’t afford to make any exceptions. Once word leaks out that a pirate has gone soft, people begin to disobey you, and then it's nothing but work, work, work, all the time.”

Being held hostage by Schuester while the Dread Pirate fought off Michael Chang, one of the best swordsman ever to walk the earth, was nerve wracking. Hearing how he then proceeded to physically conquer who is probably the tallest man Blaine has ever seen, and then listening as he sat blindfolded to this man outwit William into drinking from a poisoned cup was a hellish enough adventure on its own, but it was not as dreadful as hearing his anguish ridiculed by this stranger.

“You mock my pain!”

“Life is pain, Highness.” The pirate gives Blaine a look that he would consider hurt, if he did not hate him so. “Anyone who says different is selling something… I think I remember this farmboy of yours. This would be about what, five years ago?”

Five years, three months, and sixteen days, Blaine refuses to say. His silence doesn’t deter Roberts from continuing.

“He died well, if it pleases you to hear that much.”

“With all due respect—which is little to none—nothing you can say will please me. Likewise, nothing you can say will harm me.”

“He made no attempts at either bribery or blubbering. He simply said Please. I need to live. It was the please that caught my attention. I need to live for him.” The pirate’s eyes grow misty and distant and so painfully reminiscent of his love’s that Blaine is forced to look away for a moment. “He spoke of a boy so lovely, and of enduring faithfulness. Sad to see he died for nothing. Tell me, Highness, when you heard news of his death, did you immediately become engaged, or did you wait a week out of respect for the dead?”

“Had I a choice in this matter I would join him among the realm of the dead!” Blaine yells back, surprised to see a bit of shock in the thief’s eyes. “You mocked my pain once, do not do it again. I died that day!”

The unmistakable sound of hooves pounding into the ground of the hillside opposite them causes Blaine to sigh in relief. He never thought he would be so elated to see his fiance. Still... elated may be too strong of a word.

The Dread Pirate turns to scout the incoming commotion, and Blaine acts before he has time to second guess himself.

“And you can die, too, for all I care,” he grits out, and shoves hard on the Dread Pirate’s back, sending the murderer tumbling down the hillside.

Blaine’s expecting to hear shouts of terror coming from the pirate, but what he hears next makes his stomach pool with dread.

“Aaaaaas yoooouuuuu wiiiiiiish!” echoes through the hillside, coming from the Dread Pirate Roberts and Blaine’s jaw drops.

“Kurt,” he gasps. “Oh God, what have I done?”

“Over there!” he hears Sebastian’s familiar and grating voice call out from just beyond the hillside. One glance behind his shoulder and Blaine knows they will come for him, and when they do, he will never see Kurt again.

So he jumps forward and follows Kurt rolling down along the slope of the hill.

Small rocks and flowers swirl past him in a blur, dirt kicked up every time his boots collide with the ground, and after falling for what feels like ages, his body finally comes to a halt, right next to Kurt’s warm one.

Blaine shifts to see Kurt better, body bruised from the fall, but soul absolutely jubilant.

Kurt scrambles over to him, black mask having been knocked off in the tumble. “Are you alright? Can you stand?”

Blaine laughs and reaches out to grab Kurt’s— Kurt’s —hand on top of his chest. as if to keep them physically tethered this time. “Stand? You’re alive. If you want, I could fly.” He buries his head deep into Kurt’s shoulder, inhaling the scent of him mixed with the grass and the dirt and the absolute joy of him being alive.

Kurt holds him back just as tight. “I told you I’d always come for you.”

“I thought you were dead.”

“My sweet Blaine,” Kurt murmurs, hand warm against Blaine’s cheek. “Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while.”

Blaine barely has time to smile before Kurt’s lips are on his again, back in their rightful place.

[karimac]

...in the details, Part 2

A/N: Warning for this series: 18+ audience (minors DNI), some cinematic level violence, some fluff and angst. Doubt that smut will be involved, but it may be implied. I’ll make sure that is noted clearly if it pops up.

All relationships, at this point anyway, are platonic.

Please do not repost or translate my work. Likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

A bit about the OC Kari

Part 1

All mistakes are my own.

Word count: 2,249

Before you ventured into Westview, a flight of birds overhead reminded you of Redwing and Sam. Poor Sam. That sixth sense you had told you that fight at the compound was going to lead you all into very weird places. And the first one left you very squarely not in the room once again.

This time it was Steve and Bucky being thick as thieves, and you and Sam were…making a sandwich run? Couldn’t exactly get GrubHub to make a delivery to an attack site, could you? Bruce did not want some driver with a cellphone putting video up on Snapchat. “How would that look?” he bemoaned as he worked on the time travel platform. “We’d be getting tourists left and right. I don’t need that.” So off you and Sam went.

“You know, you could just, you know,” Sam started to say as he waved his hands like he thought a wizard would do, “and just poof up a plate of stuff. Right? With extra food for Banner, of course. He inhales tacos like nobody’s business. Just ask Tic Tac.”

“Sam, what have I told all of you before? Magic is the transfer of energy and matter. No suitable food stuff means no sandwiches. I can’t just think about the deli counter at Wegman’s and make a sandwich and a side of coleslaw appear in my hand. So, we’ll order on the app and pick it up. Just like everyone else. Before I hit the button, any changes to your order?”

“No, it’s fine. But don’t tell me you’ve never done shit like that when you’ve had your back against it,” Falcon huffed as you went to the rental car you’d gotten earlier in the day. That, thank Heaven, was easy to get at the local but extremely small airport.

“I’ve killed small rodents and eaten them, and I don’t mean just rabbits. Snakes, too. And, well, birds of prey, like falcons,” you groaned as you started to get into the car, but you stopped and headed back to the passenger side. “And I know you hate my driving, so here you go,” you said as you handed Sam the keys. “Sorry it isn’t a Ferrari. I was lucky to get this Kia. They didn’t exactly have anything race course worthy.”

As Sam climbed in, he saw bags of gear in the back seat. “You pulling a Wanda? Need some me time away from all us testosterone jockeys? Cyborg is going to be pissed.”

“Bucky has other stuff to deal with, trust me,” you said as you rolled your eyes. “He does not need to add Crazy Old Broad to his growing list of things to do and people to take care of this week. I heard him talking to Steve…”

“You? Eavesdropping? You are human!” Sam smirked, but then he saw the comment had hit a nerve. “You know I was kidding, right?”

“I know you are,” you said as you swallowed hard. In reality, you were not exactly buying that last comment. Sam was a sweetheart, but his comment sounded like things Tony and Steve had said about you in the weeks before the Time Heist. It depended on the situation, but one or the other of them seemed to question you, your motives, your powers and what they could do, and, at times, your grasp on reality. You did have a connection to a goddess they couldn’t see. Blaming them for having those questions just was not in your wheelhouse. “And yeah, maybe I just need to go figure a few things out. You guys know how to get me back here if you need me.”

“Somehow I don’t think Steve, Bucky and I would look so great standing and screaming your name in the middle of a fight,” Sam noted as he finally turned the key in the ignition.

“Now who is having issues with gender roles?” you said with a very pronounced side glance. “Sam, we are all human. We all need a save now and then. Maybe you’ll never have to utter my name again after today, unless you guys can’t find something you think I hid? Thor will be back once he’s done exploring the universe, and you can always get him here fast if you have Strange find him. And Wong is just dying for his shot as a full time Avenger. We all know that! And I can go back and do, well, goddess stuff, I guess. And raise horses. Just, please, make sure no one drops the ball on Parker. He lost his parents and his uncle. Losing Tony will hit him harder than anyone likely expects. He’s a good kid. He just needs support and guidance. Now, want to get this thing moving, or do you want me to drive?”

“And have you antagonize the local cops by going Mach 1? No thank you!”

You had to laugh at that one. You did tend to floor it. A lot.

++++++++++

A short time later, you and Sam rolled back to the site Bruce had chosen to set up the time travel platform. After you two handed out all the food, you realized it was really time for you to get going. No, you didn’t have a train, plane or bus to catch or someone to meet. You just knew it was going to get harder to make the break the longer you stayed there.

“She’s pulling a Wanda on us,” Sam said as he finished off the last of the sweet tea he had grabbed at the deli where you’d gotten food. “I think it’s too much he-man macho stuff, but she won’t fess up to that.”

“Wilson, how many brothers did I have?” you asked as you cleaned up the trash from the table Bruce had borrowed from a local park that had been wrecked during the battle. It had a huge hole in the end, but hey, it was good enough for the moment.

“Eight,” Bucky replied before Sam got the chance. “Just don’t quiz me on all their names. I remember your twin, Branan, and the one who was the vampire. Ewan? Right?”

“Yup, that’s right,” you grinned at Buck. “And no quiz. Promise,” you said as you raised your left hand and crossed your heart with your right.

“Why are you leaving?” Bruce asked as he adjusted the sling on his still injured arm, putting extra emphasis on the word “are” as he uttered it. “We need all the help we can get.”

Bruce, heaven help him, was suddenly one of the last active OG Avengers standing on Earth. Thor was off finding himself with the Guardians, and no one could really begrudge him that. He needed time to heal, and you knew all too well that was not easy nor time limited. Clint had more or less retired again after Natasha’s sacrifice on Vormir. Steve was getting ready to take the stones back, but upon his return, he’d likely join up with Sam and Bucky again to root out any remaining Hydra cells. That left Bruce in a very different place this time around.

“Bruce, you don’t really need me being a head case. Trust me. You do not need me giving any news outlets ammunition to blast headlines that make the team look less than spotless. I need to go home, at least for a little while,” you replied, knowing full well you were not telling him or the others everything. “And as I reminded Sam, you guys can just call me, and I’ll be here. Just whisper my name. Or yell it. Whatever works. Text me! If it’s an emergency, and if I’m not in the middle of some new damned war on my end, I’ll come running. But I have a feeling you guys are going to be just fine. Hell, I’ll give you a blessing before I head out.”

Yeah. A blessing. More like the final nail in the coffin. The words to start the spell to make them forget you.

“Big guy, you first,” you said as you put your hands on Bruce’s injured right arm. “And no, I am doing this, Bruce. It won’t be a full healing, but it should speed things up. You got this, big guy. Biggest brain. Biggest heart. May you realize just how much this team was built with your sweat and tears as it was anyone else’s.”

“I can’t change your mind?” Bruce asked as he pretended to wipe a tear from his eye and pout a bit. “And I am not asking because you are likely the only one of us who can cook…”

“I’m pretty sure all of you guys can cook something. Maybe not a good Colcannon or a fine Dublin coddle, but you’ll survive. As for the cupcakes, you guys may need to get a bakery on speed dial,” you added with a laugh because you knew they’d make that bakery rich. The Avengers loved their sugary snacks.

“Just don’t bug my sister, Bruce,” Sam noted as he waited for you to come over to him. “I still remember asking why the Cupcake Lady had a sword that night when those demon things attacked near the tower. I never asked. Why the cupcakes?”

“And not why the demons or the sword?” you said as you nearly choked on your words. “You realize that was before Steve saw me at Peggy’s funeral. That night was truly a fluke, Sam. No one was supposed to see that side of me then. As for the cupcakes, they were my entry to your world. Gifts from a fan girl. They’re easy to carry, a synch to personalize when needed, and everyone can have their own without fighting,” you said with a grin as Sam shook his head. “What?”

“You sound like Sarah.”

“Then I am in good company. Tell her the good stuff you’ve told me all these years. The words of wisdom. The little jokes. The pep talks. Tell her often. A single mom with two boys needs that. Be there for her, and drag these guys to see her, too. It would do the boys a world of good to have all their uncles stop by. Now, Samuel,” you said as you gave him a hug, “remember to keep these guys flying right. And if the world drops opportunity in your lap, whatever it might be, do not look at it and push it away without a lot of thought. The world needs Sam Wilson, the hero with a heart.”

And now the hardest part of this good bye had you wiping tears from your eyes. “I know. I’m a big mush. Girls from Brooklyn would laugh at me for this, right? Sorry, but girls from Naas and Athy do cry sometimes. I’m going to miss you two lugs. A lot.”

“Lugs. Last time you called us that was in ’43,” Bucky said as he looked down at his feet for a minute. “Somehow Hydra missed that memory.”

“You’ll see us again,” Steve said as he turned briefly to see where the case with the stones was on the platform. “But this time, it better not take 70 years.”

As you looked at the best friends, something about their auras seemed off. They had been planning something when you almost walked in on their chat a few days ago. You had no idea what it was, and you suddenly didn’t want to hang around to find out what the next act was going to bring.

“Just…watch your back, Steve. From what Clint said about Vormir, that one is going to be tough. And Buck, whatever comes next, I’m rooting for you. Even if you can’t see me doing it.”

“You really don’t have to leave,” Bruce kept insisting as you hefted your backpack on your shoulder.

“Dr. Banner, do you really want to fight my demons after all this? I have enemies. You just haven’t seen them yet. Frankly, the only reason that Hydra didn’t grab me before I hooked up with the Howling Commandos was because I was pulled into another dimension by one of those enemies. It was only by some weird twist of fate that Peggy found me when she did. If the veil between worlds had not been so thin near that camp, I might never have made it back, or Hydra might have found me first. It was pure dumb luck.”

{{And, Heaven help me, part of it was these two lugs over here}} you thought as you turned to head to your car. Then you stopped. This was a lot harder than it had been any time before, but it was the curse of an immortal to have to keep moving on. “I wish you luck, joy and happiness. I wish you peace. And, if you are truly lucky, memories long enough to have little space to spare for the likes of me because they are filled with so much more! See you in my dreams, for now anyway, fellas.”

++++++++++

You rolled out of there before Steve started his mission to return the stones, and you got a text from Bruce hours later telling you everything that had happened. Steve not coming back as planned. Then an older version of Steve shows up, sitting on a bench near the platform, and he gives Sam the shield. Right in front of Bucky.

It was now weeks later. No. It was months later, and here you were staring up at the sign for Westview. You’d gotten out of your rental car so you could get a feeling for the area around this little town.

“You made it back,” a voice said behind you. “How are you, after all that mess with Wanda and that Agatha woman? She was a real piece of work.”

The person speaking to you was Dr. Darcy Lewis. Friend of Thor and Dr. Jane Foster. Why was she even here?

You couldn’t fully figure out what the hell she was talking about. You didn’t remember being here before. Yet, you knew who she was, and you had never met her before. Or at least you couldn’t remember meeting her, here or anywhere else.

“Apparently not as great as I thought I was,” you muttered as you winced again. “Dr. Lewis, how long ago was the blip?”

“Give or take a week, about six months ago,” she replied as you started to pace. “Why?”

“Shit. Not this again,” you hissed as you looked up at the sign once more. “I think I’m going to need your help. How much do you know about Celtic myths and Irish history, Dr. Lewis?”

[dettiot]

sons of old friends

The beeping of his comm link pulls him out of sleep. Luke groggily turns on a lamp with a wave of his hand, then pulls his comm over. “Skywalker,” he says, fighting back a yawn. 

“My apologies, Master Skywalker,” Tionne says, sounding truly apologetic. “But there’s someone in the atmosphere seeking landing clearance, and, well . . .”

“What is it, Tionne?” Luke asks, pushing himself up on one elbow. 

“He says he’s the son of an old friend. Someone you knew on Tatooine,” Tionne says. 

Luke frowns. He hasn’t kept up with anyone he knew on Tatooine, and people like Biggs, who was an old friend that he would have kept in touch with, are long dead. 

“Did he give his name?” 

“Korkie Kryze,” Tionne says. 

Kryze . . . Kryze . . . why did that name sound familiar? “That’s not a Tatooine name,” Luke says, tossing back the covers, his curiosity piqued. “Go ahead and give him landing clearance, Tionne. I’ll meet him.” 

XXX

It only took a few moments to shrug on his robes and head towards the ship that’s sitting on the guest landing pad: an old Kom’rk starfighter, a ship that hasn’t been seen in the skies for decades. 

Coming down the landing ramp is a man, dressed in Mandalorian armor. 

At that moment, it clicks in Luke’s head: Kryze was a Mandalorian name--one of the last rulers of the system had been named Kryze. 

But Luke doesn’t really know any Mandalorians. So how could this man, who looked a good fifteen years older than him, be the son of an old friend?

The man takes off his helmet, revealing hair of a shade Luke’s never seen: blonde but red, too. It reminds Luke a little of Mara’s hair, only less brilliant. His eyes are a pale blue-gray and piercing. He tucks his helmet under his arm and nods. “Luke Skywalker?” 

“I am,” he says. “Master Kryze, welcome to Yavin IV and the Jedi Academy.” 

“Thank you. I apologize for the mystery, but what I wanted to talk to you about is . . . delicate.” 

The man’s Force sense is muted, but it is there. He’s Force Sensitive--and he knows how to shield himself. That makes Luke’s curiosity kick up another notch.

“Then please, allow me to offer you some refreshments while we talk,” Luke says calmly. 

Kryze nods and follows Luke, his boots making almost no noise against the stone floors. “I appreciate your hospitality.” 

“Of course,” Luke says. “I’m quite envious of your ship. When I was a boy, I always wanted to see a Kom’rk fly.” 

The other man smiles. “It’s a pleasant way to get around the galaxy. And if you need to make it a quick trip, the Lily has got it where it counts.” 

Luke chuckles, thinking of Han. “I have a friend who feels the same way about his ship. Not that the Falcon is as streamlined as your ship.”  

For a few minutes, as Luke takes them to a kitchen and prepares tea, they share information about ships. It’s surprisingly easy to talk to Korkie Kryze, enough that Luke is almost content to wait until he broaches the reason for his visit.

Almost.

After his first sip of tea, Krzye leans back in his chair and looks at him. “How much do you know about Mandalore? Specifically in the thirty years leading up to the Empire?” 

“Not much,” Luke admits, searching his memory. “There were internal conflicts, I know. A siege just before the Republic fell.” He pauses and looks at the other man. “And a ruler named Kryze.” 

Kryze nods. “Satine Kryze, my aunt. Or so I thought when I was a child. In truth, she was my mother. She hid my identity to protect me, and my father.”

“Because you’re Force-Sensitive and Mandalorians don’t like Jedi?” Luke hazards. 

“Yes, although that came later. It was mostly about my father,” Kryze says, and there’s something there. A sadness, a deep regret. But it’s not bitter, Luke notes. 

“And who was your father?” Luke asks, since that does seem to be the sixty-four credit question. 

Kryze looks at Luke, a calmness to him that feels familiar. But then he speaks, and the last thing Luke feels is calm.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi.” 

XXX

“I just . . . I can’t believe it, Mara!”

Luke paces in front of the comm, all but pulling his hair out over this revelation. 

Ben . . . Ben had a son. A son he had never known about. But Ben had possibly suspected--he had met Korkie, after all. And now that Luke knows the truth, it’s very clear. His eyes, his presence in the Force . . . 

But it just upends everything he thought he knew about his first teacher. About the Jedi. 

“Admittedly, a Jedi-Mandalorian affair is the stuff of romance holos,” Mara says. “But after all, it’s not like it’s outside the realm of possibility for Jedi to have children. You and Leia are proof of that, Farmboy.” 

“I know, I know,” he says, stopping his pacing and dropping down into his chair to look at Mara. “I just . . . I always got the sense that Ben disapproved of what my father did. Falling in love, marrying . . .” 

“Which wasn’t what Kenobi did,” Mara points out. “It could have just been a fling.” 

Luke shakes his head. “I don’t think it was. Korkie said Ben was there when his mother was killed. By Maul.” 

Mara lets out a whistle. “The Sith that Kenobi was supposed to have killed on Naboo? Looks like Maul held a grudge.” 

“Yeah. It all lead up to the Siege of Mandalore, apparently,” Luke says, looking at Mara. “What do you think?” 

She takes a long moment before replying. It’s one of the many things Luke loves about her: she never hesitates to give her opinion, even when she knows it might hurt. But she always does her best to ease the hurt. 

“Why is he looking you up?” Mara asks. “It’s not like it’s very common knowledge that you were Kenobi’s student.” 

“Apparently, he ran into someone who knew both Ben and my father,” Luke says. “He didn’t give me much info, but . . . she was the one who told him about me being Ben’s last student. So he wanted to find out more about that.”

“Someone who knew him at the end,” Mara says, nodding a little. “Makes sense to me.” 

Luke looks at her. “So it’s not just Skywalker naivete making me want to get to know him?” 

Mara smiles at him. “No. Now, if he says he wants your help on some mystical quest, that’s when you should put the brakes on that farmboy enthusiasm.” 

Chuckling, Luke says, “I promise, if he mentions anything like that, I’ll wait for you to get here before leaving.” 

“Thanks a lot,” Mara says, rolling her eyes. She looks off-screen for a moment, then back at him, regret shimmering in her eyes. “I have to go.” 

“I love you,” he says softly, feeling the warmth of Mara through their bond.

“I love you, too,” she says. “Take care of yourself, Luke.” 

He doesn’t say anything, but he knows she can feel his promise to do so. And with that, their call ends and Luke pushes away from his desk.

There’s a lot to talk to Korkie Kryze about, and he can’t wait.

End.

My Star Wars Fic Masterlist