#Surveillance Bed III

[zegalba]

Julia Scher: Surveillance Bed III (1994)

[ellecdc]

All's Fair in Love & Chaos (IV)

fourth installment ( I - II - III)

a short blurb style mini-series in collaboration with @unstablereader no real plot, just vibes and comedy.

Synopsis: soulmate au, everyone's soulmate's initials become visible on their wrist when the last person in the bond 'comes of age' (I've left the age ambiguous because their may be mature insinuations later on in the story). As luck would have it, and much to everyone's horror; it appeared that you, Barty Crouch Junior, and Sirius Black were soulmates

poly!DeathStar x fem!reader

“This is getting confusing.” Peter whined petulantly as the Marauders stepped into the Great Hall and surveyed the various tables. “We used to just wake up, go to the Great Hall, and sit at the Gryffindor table.”

“It’s good to broaden your horizons, wormy!” James offered with a hearty pat on Peter’s shoulder. 

Luckily for them, it appeared that everyone’s respective soulmates were sitting at the Slytherin table this morning. 

Unluckily for Sirius, it appeared that everyone’s respective soulmates were sitting at the Slytherin table this morning. 

“Nothing but the best for my girl!” Marlene proclaimed as Dorcas rolled her eyes fondly. 

“What? Did you buy her the best medication for your various sexually transmitted diseases?” Sirius taunted as he sat down beside you earning him a heavy kick in the shin courtesy of Marlene’s combat boots.

“Don’t be crass, Black.” Dorcas drawled. “She’s throwing me a birthday party.”

“A party?” James chimed in. “When? Where? Are we invited?”

Marlene playfully (though extremely aggressively) shoved James in the shoulder, which James had to massage when she was no longer looking as Dorcas answered him.

“Yes, yes. You’ve all been invited. Or, rather, your soulmates have been invited, and they were told to bring theirs, so.” 

Peter harrumphed as he poked around in his porridge bowl. 

“You’re invited too, Pete; don’t worry.” Marlene called over, earning her a smile that seemed to take a bit too much effort from the Gryffindor boy. 

“Where’re you throwing it? Gryffindor?” Remus asked Marlene.

“No, we’re going to have it in the Room of Requirement! Really deck the place out.” Lily answered for her, pulling out a heft binder that was well and truly over-flowing with party planning paraphernalia. 

“That’ll be fun, yeah? I can pick you up from your common room and we can go together?” Sirius asked you then, only to hear a derisive scoff emanate from your otherside.

“Fat chance, Black. I was here when the invites were shared, she’s going with me.” 

You opened your mouth to interject when Barty pulled you into his side. “Isn’t that right, treasure?” 

“I don’t know why I should have to lose out on my date just because Remus took so bloody long getting out of bed this morning.” Sirius argued over the top of your head. 

“The early niffler gets the gold, Black. I don’t make the rules.” 

Sirius let out an incredulous laugh at that. “You absolutely did make that rule! And every other rule in this sodding relationship! I have to walk around on eggshells sharing her with you.”

“And what do I do? Hm? This isn’t exactly a walk in the park for me to have to listen to your constant nagging and pestering when I’m simply trying to enjoy some quality time with my soulmate.” Barty sneered. 

“She’s our soulmate.” Sirius corrected quickly. 

“Yeah well I’d bloody like to fix that.” Barty muttered.

The entire table was stunned silent when you suddenly slammed both of your hands down onto the top of the table and stood abruptly. 

“I’m tired of this.” You beseeched as you climbed over the bench and stared defiantly at both Sirius and Barty who were now looking up at you in shock. “I am sick and tired of the bickering and the surveillance and the trade offs and the schedules. I'm tired of it! I’m living my life on some timetable that revolves around you,” said as you pointed at Sirius before moving your finger to Barty, “and you. And at the end of the day, there’s no time left for me.” 

You took a shuddering breath but soldiered on, grabbing each of the boys’ wrists (quite painfully, mind you) and flipping them over to expose their soulmate marks. 

“Yes I am both of your soulmates and you are both mine, but you are also eachother’s.” You released their hands and took a step back; your formidable glare falling into something more pained and vulnerable as you began picking at the skin of your nails. “And until you two realise that, or until you can at least pretend to get along for my sake, I don’t want to hang out with either of you.”

Sirius felt like the air had been knocked right out of him as you bent down to retrieve your bag and began walking away. 

“Sit down.” You hissed as you spun around, watching both Barty and Sirius slowly lower themselves back onto the bench. 

You looked as though you were going to turn around and leave again, but your eyes caught onto one member of the group.

“Peter.” You called much more gently than you’d been speaking to Barty and Sirius. “Would you like to go to Dorcas’ party with me?” 

“Yes!” Peter whispered excitedly, which was nearly drowned out by the protest that was going to come from Sirius before a hand smacked itself over his mouth. 

You smiled softly at Peter before you turned and left the Great Hall with not so much as a single glance in Sirius’ (or Barty’s) direction. 

James let out a slow whistle as Sirius shook the hand that was over his mouth, finding himself even more aghast to realise it had been Barty’s.

“Junior! Get your sodding hands off of me!”

“It wasn’t exactly pleasurable for me either, Black.”  He spat back. 

“You should have said something! Now she’s going to the party with Peter.”

“Yeah, yeah. We can kill him later.” Barty muttered indignantly. 

“I don’t want to kill one of my best friends! I want to go to a bloody party with my girl!” 

“Yeah well, your girl doesn’t want anything to do with you.” Marlene taunted with a smile on her face as she leaned into Dorcas’ side. “That was kinda hot, actually.” 

“Bugger off, McKinnon.” Barty and Sirius spat in unison, only to glare severely at one another.

“Merlin’s tits; is this what you’re every time you’re around each other?” Lily asked incredulously, to which Sirius quickly said “no” at the same time Barty replied “pretty much, yeah”. 

“She must be a saint, then; I would have dumped the two of you by now if I were her.” Regulus added in a bored tone, never looking up from his copy of the Daily Prophet. 

“Yeah well, we’re all thanking our lucky stars not to be matched up with you, Reg.” Barty sneered, earning him a snort of laughter from Sirius before he realised what he’d been doing and immediately went back to scowling. 

“Pettigrew!” Barty called as he leaned around Sirius. “100 galleons to not attend the party with Y/N.”

Peter looked equally fearful for his life and resigned to his death. “I don’t want to stand her up…”

Apparently, even Barty didn’t have the heart to have you - poor, shy you - attend a party solo. “Buggering fuck, fine.” He spat as he stood and grabbed his bag. “Pick me up in the Slytherin common room at eight pm sharp. And for the love of Merlin, bring me a sodding boutonniere!”

The group watched as Barty disappeared around the corner and the Great Hall returned to its normal volume. 

“He does know this is a semi-casual event, right?” Marlene whispered to Dorcas. “Boutonniere's aren’t required nor encouraged.” 

Dorcas simply snorted and returned her attention to her breakfast. “Marly, you come to learn to pick your battles when it comes to the likes of Barty Crouch Junior.”

But when Sirius turned his attention away from the door of the Great Hall, he saw her staring directly at him. 

“Duly noted.” He muttered as he loaded up his plate in resignation. 

Looks like I’m going on a date with Junior. 

… 

Never in a million years would Sirius have ever bet even a single knut that one would find him standing outside of the Slytherin common room dressed in his best trousers (that absolutely hugged his arse in all the best ways) and a simple button up shirt that he failed to button up all the way, leaving a sinful trail of skin along his chest. 

Yet, here he was.

Standing outside of the Slytherin common room, dressed to impress awaiting his date…who was none other than bloody Barty Crouch Junior. 

Sirius honest to gods thought about obliviating himself and just going back to his dorm for, say, maybe ever? But Barty chose that moment to step out through the door looking utterly delectable. 

“See something you like, Black?” He taunted with a haughty grin, causing Sirius’ eyes to narrow challengingly. 

“I don’t see Y/N around anywhere, so no.”

Both of them sighed as they considered each other. 

“Well?” Barty asked then.

“Well what?”

Barty scoffed and rolled his eyes dramatically. “Circe’s tits, aren’t you going to tell me I look nice? You Black’s have horrid manners.”

“You’ve not told me I look nice!” Sirius retorted.

“I didn’t run to the nearest loo to pour bleach in my eyes; you’re so hard to please.”

“Merlin’s saggy balls- let’s go.” Sirius muttered as he turned on his heel to head all the way back up the stairs he just came down towards the Room of Requirement. 

“Uhm, aren’t you forgetting something?” Barty asked as he grabbed Sirius’ wrist. 

“What, you want to hold hands on our way up too?”

“My boutonniere you git.” Barty replied as he pointed to his chest. 

Sirius gave a dramatic eye roll of his own as he pulled a small box from his pocket and returned it to its original size. 

He carefully pulled out the selection of flowers and batted Barty’s hands away when they reached for them.

“What in the bloody hell are you doing?”

“You don’t pin your own corsage, Junior.” Sirius responded tiredly. “Purebloods raise gentlemen afterall.”

Barty fell quiet at that as he watched Sirius’ face as he pinned the flowers to his black button up. 

“Green? ‘Cause I’m in Slytherin?” Barty asked derisively as Sirius admired his work. 

Sirius’ eyes flit up to Barty’s before falling back to the corsage. 

“Green because of your eyes, Junior.” Sirius admitted quietly before he turned on his heel and headed up the stairs. “Hurry along; I want Y/N to see us walk in together looking like perfect tens.” 

And though Sirius couldn’t see it, he could certainly feel Barty’s gaze fall down to his perfect arse as he took two stairs at a time. “Speak for yourself, Black. I’m an eleven.” 

The party was well underway by the time Sirius and Barty made it up to the Room of Requirement which was, indeed, well set up for the party. 

Sirius knew it was likely more thanks to Lily than it was to Marlene, but he also knew Lily would likely let Marlene take all the credit for it.

“Where is she?” Barty asked, leaning into Sirius’ side so he could speak into his ear. Sirius fought back a shiver as he made for the familiar sight of the bar table. “No idea, but I’m gonna need a drink.” 

They found you not long afterwards; Sirius’ heart nearly stuttering to a stop when he spotted you twirling around with Peter looking so carefree as you threw your head back in laughter and caused Peter to do the same.

And by the way Barty’s jaw fell slack, he was sure he felt much the same. 

“She’s kind of perfect, isn’t she?” Sirius asked then, watching as you and Peter reorganised yourselves for a new song.

“Kind of perfect? You’re way off, Black.” Barty shot back, but when Sirius turned to give him an incredulous glare for being so damned contradictory all of the time, he was surprised to see a soft smile on his lips.

Ah, Sirius thought, humour - I know a thing or two about that. 

“Should we show her what she’s missing tonight?” He asked Barty then, ridding himself of his cup and holding his hand out to his date for a dance. 

“It’d be my pleasure.” Barty said with a smile as he accepted Sirius’ hand and followed him to the dancefloor. 

“Is she looking at us?” Sirius asked as he fought every single urge to look at you.

“How could she not? We’re the hottest couple here.” Barty responded easily, surprising a bark of laughter from Sirius.

“Did you just call me attractive, Junior?” 

“I may find you completely horrid and annoying but I’m not blind, Black.” Barty bit back, though Sirius could see a blush forming across his face. 

“Don’t you two make a handsome couple.” Lily offered as she floated by, offering Sirius a wink as she headed for you. 

“Keep your eyes off my date, you trollop!” Sirius teased with a smile, relishing in the pleasantly surprised look adorning your face when you spotted the two of them dancing together. 

“She’s looking!” Sirius whispered at Barty then. 

“Don’t blow it, Black.” Barty hissed back, pulling Sirius flush against him. 

Sirius rolled his eyes (albeit fondly) and opted to rest his head against Barty’s shoulder.

“Does this mean the two of you are, like, together now?” James blurted then, surprising Sirius and causing him to straighten up and break away from Barty as if he’d been caught doing something naughty.

“What!? Of course not.” Barty snapped quickly.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Sirius added.

James’ eyes flit between the two of them as his brows inched closer together. “Really? ‘Cause it sort of look-”

“Well, you should probably get your glasses checked, Potter, because what it looked like was two blokes who share a soulmate working hard to ensure their soulmate doesn’t up and leave them.”

“Right!” Sirius agreed quickly. 

“Listen; do I think Black always looks like an off-duty model? Sure.” 

“And do I think Junior is by far the hottest bloke here? Sure.”

“Exactly! I could do much worse than Black, here.” 

“And do we make one hell of an attractive couple? Yes.” Sirius paused when his yes was chorused by Barty. “But that’s all it is.”

“That’s all it is.” Barty agreed with a shrug of his shoulders. 

James considered the two of them a moment longer before letting out an inelegant snort. “Sure; whatever you say.”

“He doesn’t get it.” Sirius said simply then, turning back to Barty to continue their dance.

“You’ve got dumb friends; can’t even understand two attractive people not being completely revolted by one another.”

And Sirius couldn’t help but agree; James really was dumb if he couldn’t see that Barty was, indeed, the hottest bloke at this party (Sirius excluded, of course).

[ramp-it-up]

Knock You Down: II

Summary: James Bucky Barnes is an avowed bachelor and one night stand artist. But when he meets you, he finds out that sometimes love comes around, and it knocks you down. Bucky has to answer some hard questions on date #2.

This is a follow up to Part I

Word count: 3 K

Pairing: Art Dealer (mob boss) Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: This fic was in part inspired by Seb Stan's latest pics and this press run 🫠, and partially inspired by an old song by some problematic people, lol. This is the result. As usual, I am Basil Exposition, so this is broken into parts.

Part III will be posted on Sunday, 10/13. I think it will be the final part. 😓

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Slow burn, cursing, mutual pining, daydreams of: oral sex (f receiving), marking, edging, & overstimulation. High potential for phone sex? Narrowly missed masturbation; a pet name in google translate Romanian; voice kink; drunk messaging/calling; Bucky has you under surveillance; AAAAngst. The heat is ramping up, but still no sex!

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

———-

Bucky woke with his lips tingling for want of you.

After your first date, sleep had been elusive. His thoughts of you led to a physical condition that he was used to taking care of right away, one way or another.

He decided that only you could solve his problem.

You had him as hard as a rock and Bucky knew that your soft curves were both the culprit and the cure

In his dreams, he had been eating you out, the smell in his nostrils a mix the your natural scent and perfume on your wrist as he went down on you. He couldn’t actually taste you, but he just knew that you were delicious.  

Knowing that he would be distracted all day, Bucky tried other means to work out his frustration. He got up, worked out, and concentrated on not being a simp. 

Unsuccessful.

At the stroke of 8 am Bucky sent you a good morning text and inquiring about your sleep. He hoped that your dreams were as full of him as his were of you.

Bucky chuckled as he pressed send. Good morning texts were not in his repertoire, quite the opposite. He was a pro in dodging follow up texts from his conquests.

After 10 minutes, he put his phone down, because he realized he was staring at it waiting for your response. In the shower, the stream of cold water was meant to calm the lava in his veins at the thought of you still asleep in bed. He needed to stop thinking of waking you up with his head between your legs because then his erection would never go down.

Back in his bedroom, Bucky saw that you had responded. His heart was in his throat at just the notification of not just a text, but an image sent on his screen. He had to sit down.

I had sweet dreams.

Image sent from Y/N

The image was a pic of you in your bed, hair tied back and no makeup. The morning sunlight on your skin was everything and the soft smile on your face looked so kissable.

It appeared that you were wearing a tank top. He could see your neck and the tiniest bit of cleavage, but it was enough to have him raging hard again. 

The highly rational urge to mark you up as a punishment for torturing him came to him like a bolt of lightning.

God, the thought of punishing, maybe edging you all day, or better yet, having you beg him to stop making you cum as he overstimulated you sent his hand to his dick under the towel, but his other hand was reaching for your contact. 

He groaned when he realized what he was doing. One hand had to stop. He wasn’t going to do this.

Bucky unhanded himself and sighed as your phone rang, then his stomach dropped as he realized you probably wouldn’t pick up. 

“Hullo? James?”

Your morning voice. The fantasy of how to wake you up took hold again.

“G-,” Bucky cleared his throat, but it didn’t help much.

“Good morning Frumoasă.”

Damn, his voice. Yeah. You had a voice kink. You felt the urge to ask for a picture of him.

And you knew where that would lead.

The rest of your day depended upon not revealing how much of a slut you were for him already, so you decided to crack a joke.

“Fumosa? What does that mean? You calling me fugly or something?”

Bucky laughed, and the sexual tension was broken. You were so fucking charming. He was definitely feeling you.

Bucky wanted to do so much more than to just be physical with you; he wanted to just be with you.

“Far from it, Y/N. Frumoasă means beautiful in Romanian. Ești foarte frumoasă. You are so beautiful.”

You could hear his smile as he replied.

“Hmmmm. Well. Good morning to you too, James. And thank you.”

Bucky smiled at his bedroom wall, reclining on his unmade bed, not caring that he would be late for work. But he was the boss, so it didn’t really matter. He wanted to hear that moan-hum thing you did again, so he repeated himself.

“Ești foarte frumoasă.” 

You were shook. When Bucky spoke in Romanian, his voice lowered an octave or two. It left you squirming.

You stifled another moan and Bucky shifted, his towel moving again.

This phone call was getting dangerous. 

“James…”

His heart beat double time when you said his name, as if you were asking for so much more than just his attention. One word from you and he would would make you see stars over the phone.

Damn, he was hard as a rock.

“Yes?”

The way his voice broke over that one little word left you speechless, trying to make a wise choice of words. Now was not the time for phone sex, no matter how much you wanted his voice to talk you through it. This man had you caught up, but you were trying to chill.

“See you in a few days.”

Bucky smiled again. You were constantly changing the game, a Queen to his Knight. But he was determined to capture you.

“See you in a few days frumoasă. I can’t wait. Have a great day.”

—

After that, you two stayed away from phone calls, subsisting on texts and anticipation for the next four days. 

But you couldn’t get away from thoughts of Bucky, especially since Nat showed up at your favorite coffee shop that morning. She claimed that she lived nearby while hinting that Bucky liked you a lot. You just smiled and tried to be enigmatic, not the blushing schoolgirl that you felt inside.

Hungry for more pictures of you, Bucky followed you on Instagram. You didn’t habitually reveal a lot of skin, but what he could see of you made him want more. 

You noticed his follow, (accompanied by several gossip rags) and took note as you blocked them and made your page private. James Barnes gave no fucks who knew about you. You smiled all day long at that knowledge.

On Wednesday, he noticed that you posted girl’s night out, apparently to celebrate your friend Sydney’s engagement.

You looked good, skin glowing, body giving, and those brown leather pants making him dizzy just by staring at them through a screen. He knew he’d be feral if he saw them in person.

Bucky fantasized all evening about you coming home to him that night.

When Bucky liked the post your heart rate increased and you felt like you were in a race.

“I’m winning!” 

You whooped it up with your friends and ordered another bottle. That’s when you saw Sam out of the corner of your eye. You invited him over for drinks, much to the delight of your friends.

Your drunk text to Bucky when you got home and the following exchange had him grinning as he went to sleep that night. Friday evening would be interesting indeed.

You woke up Thursday morning, wondering why you had a picture of a shirtless Bucky Barnes as the lock screen on your phone.

Your eyes almost fell out of your head as you opened your messages and saw this exchange:

Hey James. I want to fuck your voice. Especially when you speak Romanian. 🫠

But I can’t fuck until date number 3 sooooo

*Voice memo from James

*Voice memo to James

Image sent from James

Thank you Daddy. 💋

You are welcome, Frumoasă. 😏

You threw your phone.

You called him Daddy????

And you told him about the three date rule.

You were out of control.

You immediately sent him another message.

Good Morning, James. I apologize for last night. Please, burn your phone and destroy all messages from me. Have a nice life. 🫣

Good morning, Frumoasă. Last night was harmless fun. 😉 Have a wonderful day. See you tomorrow evening.

You grinned because although you were embarrassed, he was right. And also because he was a chaotic, but harmless gentleman. He just gave you what you asked for and didn’t take advantage of the situation. And his left arm tattoo sleeve was sexy as fuck.

What a man.

——-

When Steve and Sam caught him staring your picture during an auction that morning, Bucky just grinned as his best friends razzed him. He realized that you were worth it as he serenely endured them busting his balls. 

Later that day Sydney sent you some very interesting articles about Bucky Barnes and his business and called to check up on you. Your heart sank as you assured her that you were okay and thanked her for being a friend.

There was a different vibe for you now; James Barnes might not be the perfect guy. But you tried not to overreact.

Everything that was posted online wasn’t necessarily true.

You decided to exercise to clear your head, but lo and behold, when you looked to your left at SoulCycle, there was Steve Rogers, Bucky’s best friend. You managed to dodge a conversation by rushing off to work.

You were looking forward to your date, because James Barnes had a lot of explaining to do.

—----

When Bucky picked you up on Friday, you opened the door and quickly retreated to get your coat and purse as soon as he entered.

“Hello James,” you said from across your living room. 

Buck couldn’t put his finger on what shifted, but something had. He raised his eyebrow at you as you stood out of his reach and he felt the chill in the air.

“Hello, Frumoasă.”

He didn’t hide his admiration at your dress as he bit his bottom lip, positive that he could probably just flip up the hem and slip his… Bucky forced his eyes back to yours.

Damn, he looked good in the brown suit and black crew neck shirt. His eyes were everything on those colors. You noticed him checking you out and you looked down at your mustard dress.

“I hope this is okay. I wore this to work. Got out a little later than I expected. Billie, my assistant, and I were setting up for the opening tomorrow.”

Bucky smiled.

“You look amazing. And I can’t wait to see the exhibit.”

You cleared your throat. 

“About that. Are you sure you want to come?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at you.

“...Yes. We agreed when I conceded to your price on Monday. What’s going on?”

“Oh, nothing, we’ll talk about it later. Are you ready to go?”

Bucky let you have whatever space you were needing at the moment.

“Lead the way.”

You chose the venue of this second date, a Harlem Renaissance exhibit in the eponymous borough. Bucky remained the perfect gentleman, taking your hand as he helped you into the car, but keeping his distance as you rode uptown.

If it were not for his all consuming stares and the desire in his eyes, you would think he wasn’t attracted to you. But you couldn’t let your libido have you make a terrible decision. You were deep in thought the entire ride to Harlem.

—---

You were in awe of the exhibit as much Bucky was in awe of you. You caught him admiring you instead of the art more than once, but you just smiled and launched into a conversation about the pieces, discussing the merits of the exhibit.

“That’s very astute. So good. Beautiful and smart.”

Bucky’s proximity to you during your banter was not helping your resolve. His voice in your ear cooing praises was making you weak. But you had to be strong. When he took your hand again as you walked to dinner on Frederick Douglass Boulevard, the thousand butterflies which had taken residence in your stomach on Monday afternoon fluttered their wings. 

Damn. He had you down bad.

After you were seated, Bucky tried to break down the wall that you’d seemed to throw up between you.

“Alright, Frumoasă. Tell me. What is going on in that beautiful brain of yours? You’ve been in your head all night.”

You looked around, trying to avoid those perceptive blue eyes of his, and noticed that the rooftop terrace seemed to be deserted except for the two of you. You had been so caught up in your inner turmoil that you hadn’t noticed the surroundings.

“James…”

He was staring at you again, mouth open, and that tongue darting out to lick his lips.

“Yes, Frumoasă…”

“Did.. did you reserve this rooftop just for us?”

Bucky smiled and leaned back, clearly pleased with himself. He took a sip of wine before he answered.

“I may have called in a favor of the owner.”

“It’s Friday night! That is quite the feat.”

“Someone as striking as you deserves to be surrounded by beauty. Always.”

You shook your head at him.

“I’m serious James. I’m not your type. We come from two different worlds. You can have anyone you’d want. What would you want with me?”

Bucky sobered up, sensing your anxiety. He moved his chair closer to yours.

“I never make a promise that I can’t keep. And I don’t string women along. I try to make sure that everyone knows what it is with every encounter. Most women know that what happens is a one time thing.”

He stared at you with the ocean depths that were his eyes.

“And I hope you understand that you are not most women. Remember what I said Monday night?”

You nodded, remembering the rush of feelings and wild thoughts. 

“That was the first of many dates. I haven’t been on a second date in… I honestly don’t know how long.”

You digested what he was saying, really wanting to like him, and more. But you had to clear the elephant from the room.

“Speaking of honesty. What do you really do for a living, James?”

Bucky looked at you strangely.

“What do you mean? I-”

“James. You have one chance to tell me the truth.”

Bucky digested the look on your face; he knew you were serious.

“It seems that you have read some things. Or someone has said something to you.”

You shrugged and said, “Both.”

You were anxious and relieved that he didn’t insist on the lie.

“Okay. Then.”

He sighed and looked at you carefully with those eyes, giving you a minute. After he told you the truth, there would be no going back.

“I’ll give you the cliff notes version: 

When we moved to America when I was 10, my dad Jimmy fell into the family business, which was crime. He always expected me to take it over, training me from a young kid. Steve and I grew up together. Nat and Sam came along later. I dove in deep as soon as I was old enough and brought them with me, thinking that's what I wanted."

Bucky shook his head at his own miscalculation.

"It took five years to realize that it was no way to live. When my father died seven years ago, I could finally see a way out. I started the art business because it really is what I love, and I can divest myself of any connection to illegality be completely legitimate in a little over three more years.”

You sat back and crossed your arms. His explanation was too neat and tidy.

“You have a timeline to be done with crime?”

“I know it’s hard to believe, but yes. I had a ten year and a five year plan. I’m working the plan with the help of my friends. And I’m doing it for them as much as for me. And if I'm thinking about a future with someone...."

Bucky reached over and took your hand as he stared at you.

"I'd be doing it for my own family as well."

You wanted to melt, but remained strong, pulling your hand from his.

“So you’re saying you aren’t a dangerous man? That I won’t be putting my reputation, my employment, and my life on the line by dating you?”

Bucky sat back as you posed your questions. He had never had to consider them before. He had never ‘dated’ anyone before. He just got what he wanted and they were safe because he never saw them again.

But now that what he wanted was you, and for far more than a one night stand, he was terrified.

“Y/N. I told you. I won’t lie to you. Yes. I am still a dangerous man. And yes, being associated with me can be dangerous. But I want you, Frumoasă. And I will stop at nothing to protect you."

You saw the ferocity of his emotions and you thought of all of them these past few days.

“Nat, Sam, and Steve. Those weren’t coincidences. Were they?”

Bucky gave you a wry smile and dropped his gaze. His voice got soft, as if he were chastened.

“No. They weren’t coincidences.”

Suddenly, you felt stifled, that there was no air avaiable. Even though you were outside.

“I- I need to think. I want to go home.”

“Come. I’ll take you.”

You rose and stepped away from Bucky.

“No. I need some space. I‘ll call a rideshare…”

“Nonsense. Nico is outside. He will take you. I can call Steve to pick me up.”

You looked up into Bucky's sad eyes.

“O-Okay.”

You fought the urge to bury yourself in his arms, and in a few minutes, Bucky put you in the car and you were rolling toward Brooklyn before you realized it.

——-

It wasn’t until you were in your tank top and sweats on your couch having made your head hurt with all of the thoughts for an hour, when you realized you never ate dinner and were starving.

You sighed and picked up your phone.

In just about another hour, your favorite takeout was on its way, comfort for a tumultuous evening. When you answered your door, your stomach flipped at the delivery person clad in white t-shirt, grey sweats, and a backwards ball cap.

You smiled at Bucky.

He grinned back.

“So. Is this date number three, orrrrr?…”

You rolled your eyes at him.

“You can drop the food off in my kitchen. This way, James.”

You glanced at him over your shoulder, the heat in your gaze unmistakable.

Bucky smiled and thanked the heavens as he followed the sway of your hips into your home.

——-

Please let me know if you like it! 😊

Next part here.

[gauloiseblue]

Medic!Reader × Poly!141

Part I | Part II | Part III

[Tags: hurt/comfort, fluff, a love confession if you squint]

Taglist: @rainlovesyou12 @nijiru

When you're back at the base, the first thing that you get from your team is collective stares

"What happened to your cheek?" Price asked, visibly concerned

"Got punched by an asshole." You replied, still holding the ice pack against your face

"How did it happen?" He then glares at Graves, "You let this happen on your watch?"

He throws both of his hands in the air, while maintaining his smug face, "Easy there, soldiers." He said, "Sorry that I got your princess harmed, but it's necessary for the mission."

"Necessary?" Price growls, "Watch your mouth when you speak, Graves."

"Alright, alright. I'll leave." He then pats on Gaz's shoulder before turning around

The group immediately approaches you after he leaves, trying to look at your wound

"Whoa, he really gave you a nasty punch." Soap commented, "He wore rings?"

"All over his fingers."

"It'll take long before the bruise heals." Ghost interjected, "Since you're the medic here, I'm sure you know what's best for you."

Price nods before he looks at you, "You don't have to work today, you can rest after a mission."

"No, I'll come to work." You said, "Don't worry about me, captain."

He seems reluctant, but lets you do it anyway

Thankfully, your job requires you to use a mask, so most of your bruises are concealed.

At dinner, Graves brings quite a lot of alcohol to celebrate their mission. (The team had retrieved the important documents, as well as eliminating the target, so It's pretty much a success)

You usually skipped alcohol, but tonight you feel like you need it, so you join in

The table that you're in is pretty big, so three other soldiers are sitting with you and you team

Surprisingly, your team can handle their alcohol very well, but Soap is a lively drunkard, he talks a lot, and keeps the alcohol flows

Meanwhile, you're a chatty drunk. You can't keep a secret when you're drunk

"He touched me with his filthy hand, so of course I'd slap him." You confessed, "But then he dared to punch me in the face. The audacity."

"That's rough." Gaz winced

"But y'know, sometimes our job comes with those kinds of things." One of the men shrugged, "I didn't ask for it when I got shot or tortured, but then again, that's the consequences of my job."

"I didn't ask to be a surveillance." You hissed, "I'm just a medic, for God's sake."

"You could've ask him—"

"I did! I even tried to reason with him but nooo, he did care." You grit your teeth, "Even after roping me into this, he never once gave me any info for the mission and told me to be pretty and meek. At least I could've prepared if he told me things I could be dealing with during the mission."

"Cut it out, boy." Price stopped him before he could reply, "Y'know Graves was in the wrong here. We always brief our soldiers before missions."

"I'm not defending him."

The other man, who's silent for the whole interaction, finally speaks, "Maybe he did it because you've been using his name for unnecessary things."

You snort, "Somehow borrowing his name equals me almost getting raped?"

He shrugs, "Sometimes mentioning a certain name equals death."

"Yeah, okay, I get it." You immediately got up from your seat, "I'm just a spoiled bastard who can't handle the slightest discomfort aren't I?"

"Where are ye goin'?" Soap called when you're walking away

"My room. I'm tired of this shit."

Once you get into your room, you don’t bother to change your clothes as you go straight to bed

Of course, after getting angry and all, you can't immediately fall asleep. It takes about 15 minutes, before you're free from your anger

Then, you hear a knock on the door, before you hear a voice calls your name softly from outside

"Are you still awake?" You heard Price spoke

You contemplate whether you should answer or not, and decide to pick the first one

"Can I come in?" He asked, and you said yes

He steps inside, and pulls a chair by your bed. You turn around to see him, not hiding the tears streak on your face

"I'm sorry for what happened earlier, I hope you know he didn't mean that."

"I know." You frown while looking away, "I know all of those soldiers didn't mean to yell, or use hurtful words, I understand that, but I always try to comfort them, not telling them to grin and bear it."

He nods understandingly, "The constant threat in the field does make people numb to other's needs."

"Why are you here? Are you apologizing on their behalf?"

"No, I just got a feeling that you'd change division if I didn't clear it up."

You let out an amused snort, "I was just thinking about leaving. I hate Graves anyway."

"I won't force you to stay but I'll be very sad if you don't, you know how much I love your food." You roll your eyes at him, he chuckles, "Please hold on for one more month, then we'll go back home, to our base."

"Well, I can't disobey you if you say that, Captain."

"You better be."

You chuckle at him, and he gives you his usual (and sweet) smile. "Thank you, Price. I really do."

"No prob." He pats your arm, "You can talk to me whenever you want."

"I'll keep it in mind."

The next morning, when you're preparing your medical equipments, a patient comes into the room, and catches you by surprise as you recognize his face

"Johnny? Oh—" You hurriedly come to his side, "What happened to your face?"

"Got into a fight last nite." He grins, "Y'should've seen the other guy tho."

"My God, why did you do that? Who was it?" He looked away when you asked him, "... Don't tell me,"

"Ye don't 've ta worry 'bout it, bonnie."

"You can't make me not worry about you." You retorted, "They could've given a penalty!"

"Nah, they won't. 'M too valuable for that."

"Still," You let out a sigh, "You didn't have to do that."

"Yer angry at 'em."

"But it's only for a moment. I'm… used to that."

He looks at you for a moment, before pulling your hand into his. "Bonnie, ye kno' when you asked me to be a fake boyfie, ye told me that no one in the group'd be willin' ta help ya?" You furrow your brows at him as he continues, "Well, t'was a lie. They won't hesitate ta help ya, bonnie. But I didn't tell ya because I don't want 'em to."

You open your mouth to speak, but no word comes out of your mouth.

He chuckles at your silence, before giving your shoulder a pat." Make of that wha' yer will."

With that, he left the room. Leaving you there, dumbfounded, before you realize you haven't even treated him yet

You thought about him for half of a day, until lunch came and you sat down on the table without looking around. You didn't hear when the chair beside you was pulled, before someone took a seat

"Man, I miss your cooking." You snapped out of your thoughts, as you turned to see Gaz. "Everything tastes bland here, I can't even tell the difference between one dish and the other."

You chuckle when he pokes out his tongue in dismay, "I miss cooking too," You stare down at your plate, "... Helped me clear my mind."

"What's on your mind?" He asked, "Care to share?"

"Not sure if you'd wanna hear it though."

"What are you saying?" He retorted softly as he gave your shoulder a squeeze, "You know I'd listen to you."

"You're sweet, Gaz." You chuckled, "But really, I just wanna go back to our base. But at the same time, I feel like I'm just retreating back to my shell. I know that I can't be choosy for this job, but I wish I could be with you guys for a long time."

His gaze stays on you for a while, before he speaks in a hushed tone, "Don't tell anyone that I say this to you, but last night, me and Price were discussing about your contract, and," He leans closer, "It's possible to do a rescission for the contract. Since you've been put in harm's way."

"Really?"

He nods, "He might pull some strings to get you back, but the higher ups would dismiss it since you're not an operator. We're confident that this'll work, since Laswell herself has approved it."

You look at him for a moment, before pulling him into your arms. "Thank you." You said to him, "I don't know what I'd do without you guys."

You feel him smile before he pats your back, "People said that you're a spoiled princess," He grinned, "But we certainly don't mind spoiling you."

"You'll regret it someday."

"You're worth the regret."

His words stuck with you for the rest of the day, and somehow it lifted up your spirit as you took care of the wounded with ease. At night, when you're walking back to your room, you spot the masked man in the hallway. His head turns when you call his name, and you wave at him.

"Hi."

"Hey."

"Are you done for the day?"

"Mostly." He replied, "Just need to fill some paperwork."

"Alright then."

The two of you would bid goodbye, if you both didn't hear the angry stomp echoing in the corridor. You turn your head towards the sound, and your blood runs cold as you recognize the face

"I need to talk to you." Graves said with an unmistakable rage in his voice, "My office. Now."

You're about to open your mouth before you feel yourself pulled, until your body bumps against a hard muscle. It takes a second before you realize that Simon has his arm wrapped around you.

"Get outta the way, boy." He warned with a glare, "It's none of your business."

"No." He stated, as he kept you by his side

He snorts when he hears it. "No?" He sneered

"If it's about the revocation of the contract, she's not the one who filed it." He glared, "I did."

"Oh." He raised his brow in a mocking manner, "So you're the one who wrote those things?"

"Affirmative." He responded, "I was the one who saw her during the assault, so I'm eligible to give the account as a witness."

You see his muscles harden under his neck, as he hisses to the masked man, "I hope you're ready for Russia because that's where I'm sending you."

"Go ahead and try."

Just like that, the storm has passed by.

You don't know how long you stand there, before he reluctantly lets you go from his arm. You clear your throat as you step aside to face him.

"Um… Thank you." You told him while looking down

You feel his eyes on you, before his hand reaches up to pat your head. "It's nothing."

He bids you goodnight as he tells you to return to your room. You obey as you walk to your door, but when you look back to see him, you still find him standing on the same spot

The next morning, when you deliver your report to the Captain's office, you notice a familiar figure by his desk

The two men were talking, before they lifted their head when you walked in

"Hi." You greeted them, "Hope I'm not interrupting?"

"Not at all." Price reassured, "We were just discussing over something."

"Somethin' ta help fo' yer case, bonnie." His captain nudged him when he said it, "Wot? 'M sho she a'ready knew."

"Is it about Graves?"

"Well," He sighs, "It is. We were just talking about the things that he submitted as evidence."

You shot him a puzzled look, before you turn to Soap.

"The letters, bonnie." He grinned, "I gave him the letters tha' bastard wrote."

"You still had those with you?"

"'Course!" He chuckled, "Ah wanted to use it to rile him up, turns out they're useful for yer case."

"While they won't be included as real evidence, they're enough to convince Laswell to give her approval."

You look at him, while hugging the file close to your chest. "Price, I don't know if I could even repay you back—"

"Don't worry about it, (Name)." He dismissed it by a flick of his hand, "It's my job to ensure your safety."

"And out job ta keep the valuable member o' the team by our side." Soap added with a pat on your back, "Graves can bugger off with his shite."

"Oh…" You cover your mouth, trying to contain your emotions. "Thank you, I—"

"Stop it, bonnie." He said as he pulled you against his chest, "You owe us nothin'."

You didn't cry joyless tears, but they didn't know since you couldn't speak through your sob. You feel bad for causing them to panic, since you cry not out of distress, rather, you're touched by their kindness. When you feel Soap's embrace tightens, and your Captain's hand on your back, you can't help but indulge for a little while

[angelbarelywrites]

♡ scenarios | dating billy

♡ fandoms; The Boys

♡ characters; Billy Butcher

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡ cw; explicit sexual content

♡ notes; he’s the bane of my existence + love of my life tbh

reader isss implied to be working with Billy and in my mind a supe but i made it ambiguous since i didn’t write a meeting section :v but i love the idea of Billy falling for a supe so much

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

I. Kisses/ PDA

> he doesn’t like PDA…or at least that’s what he claims

> Frenchie and Marv give him shit- and Hughie is so supportive it makes him angrier than the others giving him shit

> but tbh they’re all happy to see him happy, and he knows that somewhere under that thick skull off his

> so when you give him a kiss or hold his hand or hug him in the base he grumbles, but he never pushes you away or actually complains

> and sometimes he’ll haphazardly pull you against him without saying a word, cheeks a bit pink as he mumbles something into your hair

> usually a ‘good job’ if it fits the occasion, otherwise a comment about how his coworkers are idiots

> now undercover, it’s a different story

> everyone is a potential threat then- and even worse, everyone is potentially going to bother you

> if he even gets a whiff of someone looking you over he’s got an arm around your waist and a hand not so subtly on his holster

> if you want to get any actual surveillance done you have to shoo him away so he doesn’t scare anyone off

> and even then he’s checking in way more often than he needs to

> it’s hard to get mad at, because it’s sweet in his stubborn, assholeish way

> and if you don’t care about surveillance it’s easy to get him riled by playing into it

> and then he’ll kiss you hard right in front of whatever chucklefuck was eying you

> “hope he’s enjoying the bleedin’ view”

> he’s a big cuddler when you’re alone- another thing he’d never admit

> but he loves when you snuggle up with your head on his chest, listening to his heart and nearly dozing while he goes through files

> or when you’re exhausted on the van ride home and make sure no one is paying attention as you hold with his hand in the front seat, rubbing his probably bloodied knuckles and pressing soft kisses them

> he likes your little late night rendezvous the best, though

> you’re both bad at sleeping, so most nights in the base he’ll find you in the kitchen near midnight brewing chai

> you’ll be sitting on the counter in one of his shirts and smile brightly despite the bags under your eyes

> and then when he comes over and puts a hand on either side of you, you trap him in your legs

> the kisses are sometimes heated, sometimes chaste

> but either way you enjoy the tea, and spend the rest of the restless night together

II. Sharing a bed

> when you’re all living in hiding, space is tight under the pawnshop

> you’ve both got shitty little twin beds, and he’s always complaining about space

> but the nights are getting cold and the heater barely works, so you hatch your evil scheme

> evil scheme might get giving it too much credit. like way too much

> all you plan on is asking to snuggle and never leaving his bed

> but he’s taking forever to get whatever he’s doing done, and you’re tired

> no biggie, you’ll just crawl in and wait for him so you can ask

> the next thing you know it’s two a.m. and he’s nudging you

> “oi. who said you could be in here?”

> you whine and give him the biggest pout, eyes all hazy from sleep

> and not wearing all that much either

> he sighs but you can hear the smile in his voice “c’mon then love.”

> before you can scooch over he’s pulling you on top of him completely, making you feel tiny on his broad chest

> he tried not to seem too delighted when you’re there again the next night

III. Let’s get kinky

> listen. i swear i don’t think every character has a daddy kink. just all the ones i’m super attached to

> but he canonically referred to himself as daddy and that’s not leaving my brain anytime soon. so.

> he refers to you as so many sweet nicknames- and he likes to pair them with a healthy mix of degradation and praise

> “you’re a filthy fuckin’ whore aren’t yah sweetheart?”

> his default is rough. he’s a frustrated man, and he’s been pent up for a while now

> but you can take it. probably.

> he likes choking. and spanking, he loves when you’re a brat and he can bend you over his knee

> mostly because then he can finger fuck you right then and there when he’s done and make you a complete mess

> if you wear makeup he thinks it’s twice as nice with your lipstick smudged and mascara running down your cheeks

> and you look prettiest to him on your knees, already a bit teary and sucking on his fingers until you’ve earned the real thing

> he wants to breed you so bad it makes him look stupid. (tbh not literally, even if it is possible, but god the dirty talk is so good that it doesn’t matter)

> his favorite position is reverse cowgirl- he loves seeing you whine and slowly ease yourself onto him

> and to me- he’s an ass man lmao, he loves watching it as you bounce on his cock

[cosmicanger]

Julia Scher: Surveillance Bed III (1994)

[visualpoett]

Surveillance Bed III (1994)

Artist: Julia Scher

Materials/Props: Bedstead, steel, wood, foam (15 x 150 x 200 cm), 4 monitors, 4 cameras, 1 infrared-camera, 2 computer video switchers, 2 video players, 1 video recorder, 1 microphone, 1 amplifier, 2 speakers, 1 ARRI light (with red filter), cable, bedsheet, blanket.

[olet-lucernam]

A Hollow Promise [15] chapter iii, part iii

{_[on AO3]_}

main tags : loki x original character, post-avengers 2012, canon divergence - post-thor: the dark world, canon-typical violence, mentions of torture

-

summary: In the aftermath of the Battle of New York, the Avengers need a few days to build a transport device for the Tesseract. With the Helicarrier damaged and surveillance offline, SHIELD sends an asset to guard Loki in the interim: a young woman who sees the truth in all things, and cannot lie.

Even long presumed dead, her memories lost to her, Loki would know her anywhere.

And this changes things.

Some things last beyond infinity. And the universe is in love with chaos.

(Loki was never looking for redemption. It came as an unexpected side-effect.)

-

chapter summary : loki's return to asgard becomes imminent, and his guard shows her hand.

recommended listening : i hear a symphony, cody fry

-

[PREVIOUS] | [MASTERLIST] | [NEXT]

-

It couldn’t last.

“Alethia, this is Agent Chen of Alpha Team. Do you copy?”

The cool monotone echoed faintly from her earpiece, just barely audible in the quiet.

Even if he had missed it- the sound swallowed by a stray clank of metal, or a quipped line of a dialogue from one of his illusions, or her sunburst laughter at the tale he was recreating for her- Loki would have still known what was happening, solely by the way her entire demeanour shifted.

Before the transmission had even finished, she had summoned up that air of impenetrable, unintimidated grace from their first encounter- relaxed and open and tauntingly arcane, with a stillness that bled defiance. It was the only armour that her honesty would allow, tempered magnificently from the practice.

Loki wondered if he should have set aside some time to destroy SHIELD, while he was on Midgard.

As though hearing the thought cross his mind, she met Loki’s eyes as she touched two fingers against the earpiece, the faint blue activation light staining her fingerprints, her brow arched.

Smirking lightly, Loki dismissed his illusions- the image of himself and his brother, playing out an incident from a few centuries past involving the theft of Mjolnir and one of their mother’s finest gowns- with a twist of his fingers, their forms dissolving into a shimmer of gold underlaid with emerald.

The light-show distracted from the faint ripple of dispersing magic, as the spell screening their mouths fell away.

They were monitoring the cameras- so her words through the audio link would have to synchronise with the video feed. After all, if SHIELD suspected her of colluding with him, even out of mutual dislike for a third party, her every move after his departure would be that much more scrutinised, and restricted. They had to appear as mere captive and guard, little more than indifferent amusements to each other.

The lie would protect her. Loki would make it convincing for her, crafting the deception that she could only foster by implication.

She spoke into the connection, smooth and crystalline as looking-glass.

“This is Alethia. I copy.”

“The device is almost ready,” the agent replied. “Orders are to prepare the prisoner for transfer, then report to the lab to review Stark and Banner’s work. Make corrections to the design if necessary. Debrief at the bridge. We’ll feed you the security code for the cell, so report when position.”

“Copy. Wilco.”

A disquiet pressed into her expression as her hand dropped from the device.

“Is it time?”

Loki’s question was gentle, and completely rhetorical.

Barton could read the words, but tone would be more difficult to detect.

She drew her lower lip into her mouth, biting down. Her gaze flicked aside, scanning the chamber- as though in one last desperate search for another way out, all while accepting the futility of it- before snagging on the bed still arrayed at the front of the cell.

“You should probably- revert that,” she said by way of a response, staring blandly at the mass of cotton and silks.

Loki tilted his head at her.

“Could you not keep it?”

Her mouth curved bitterly. “SHIELD would only confiscate it. To perform tests.”

So don’t give those bastards anything.

Canting his head in wordless agreement, Loki gave a clean upsweep of his hand.

A barb of mana loosened the transformation that he had secured into the bed, strong as a running stitch, and as easily ruined as a single snipped thread. The spell would hold- for now- but the slightest disturbance would have it unravelling.

Loki felt his breathing clear with the familiar sensation of satisfaction, of a spell sealed into place, of a problem resolved and a trick played to perfection.

“It will dissolve into its original state the moment they touch it.”

The corners of her mouth twitched, a glint of amusement- trickster, the word gathered silently in the curve of her lower lip- but her eyes remained vacant, a malcontent in her that Loki couldn’t distract or cure.

Loki exhaled quietly.

“Come here, darling.”

Her expression softened by a few precious degrees, gently breaking, like Castille soap shredding into flakes beneath the press of a thumb.

In an unbroken, unhurried motion, she reached for the armoured case beneath the terminal. Taking it by the handle and sliding it out, she straightened, pulling her shoulders back like unfurling wings.

Descending from the front walkway, she rounded the cell, climbing the steps to the sealed door with a few light strides. Loki turned with her, circling smoothly as the dial of a compass.

On the cameras, the action would look predatory.

Loki would call it baiting.

Once they were aligned- her figure set within the frame of the sealed door, Loki carefully positioned at the centre of the cell- she caught his gaze.

Loki felt as though he had swallowed a cupful of firelight, his heart thundering with anticipation, pressing at his ribs.

Come here, come here, come here, come here-

She smiled faintly, the slightest tremble in her hand as she tapped her earpiece.

“Alethia to Alpha Team. In position.”

“Copy. Relaying security code.”

The keypad chirped under her touch, as she deftly entered the meaningless chain of numbers supplied through the link, her gaze darting between Loki and the keypad before her.

With an assenting trill, the door unlocked.

Loki heard the bolt release, ejected from the magnetised latch. The hyperbaric chamber unsealed with a hiss of pressurised air, the door retracting from its moorings on fluid hydraulics.

The final barrier between them slid aside.

It felt oddly unceremonious.

She entered the capsule of the cell, like stepping out onto on river ice.

As soon as she was clear of the doorway, the panel closed behind her, relocking with a whisk of cold air.

The moment held like a breath.

Loki found himself acclimatising to her presence. Without the gloss of the translucent walls, rendering her a convincing illusion in the vein of Pepper’s Ghost, she was abruptly flesh and bone- viscerally real, living flesh, warm and breakable as her heart in his hand.

They were breathing the same air. It would take barely a few short, brisk steps to have her pressed against him-

The ensuing realisation was a slow flush of rage, blossoming like blood from an open wound.

They had locked her in with him.

Alone, unarmed, unprotected.

And she didn’t even seem surprised.

She moved forward, curving into an orbit around him, until she stood at the front of the cell, a few scarce feet from him. She set the armoured case down and, on the upswing as she straightened, Loki caught a faint sillage from the sweep of her hair.

Morning air. Hot metal. Vanilla.

Loki didn’t know whether he wanted to scream, or laugh.

After all this time, it was still the same- the clean coolness of open skies, the coppery tang of her mana, the richness and warmth that seemed to be hers-

“They sent you in alone,” he said, low and lethal.

Pushing back her hair, she met his eyes, head tilted back just enough.

He felt the wisp of her exhale.

“Yes.”

For the benefit of their audience, Loki gave a quiet, sinister laugh.

Gazing down at her through his lashes, he lifted a hand, grazing his fingertips across her wrist, tracing the stitching of her cuff.

He felt a flutter of involuntary motion, glancing to the unassuming point of contact.

His fingers were bright as ivory against the navy leather, tantalising close to the gold of her hand.

Swallowing against the temptation, Loki slowly turned his wrist- dragging a single digit up the curve of her arm, achingly unhurried. His knuckles grazed its wake as the angle shifted, applying only the lightest pressure, so that she would barely feel it through the thick sleeve.

A crease appeared her lower lip, the swell of flesh flattening as she caught the delicate inner flesh between her teeth, watching his face intently.

Loki paused at her shoulder, at the juncture where he could feel the ridge of her clavicle.

The heat of her skin radiated into him, her breaths pressing his touch closer with each inhalation.

His hand trailed up just a little further, along the crook of her neck to the seam of her collar, lingering just beneath her ear.

“Sweet thing,” he breathed, soft and dark as sin.

He felt her shiver- before it melted through her, a shatter of sparks merging into poured light. She released her lower lip, the abused flesh blushing darkly.

Control faltering, Loki curved his finger beneath the hinge of her jaw, slotting into place.

Her pulse pressed into his touch, tender, alive- and gloriously warm, enough that he wanted to sink into her like a freshly run bath.

It was, perhaps, the closest that Loki had ever come to tasting enough, to wanting nothing more, nothing else besides.

There was nothing more insidious than satisfaction, and the complacency it invited.

He slid his finger along her jaw firmly, forcing her head upwards, until it was hooked just beneath her chin, tipping her head back to meet his gaze fully. Her throat was bared in a long, strained, elegant curve through the open collar of the jumpsuit.

Her eyebrow twitched, infinitesimally, challengingly.

Loki wrapped his hand around her throat and- with a few swift steps- drove her up against the glass of the cell.

The heavy pane, strong enough to withstand a direct blow from Mjolnir, held firm. She barely flinched under his grip, caught beneath him like prey after a long chase.

“I could kill you here and now,” he gritted out, crowding over her and forcing her up onto the balls of her feet, balanced precariously. The ridged cartilage of her larynx flexed under his palm, the rise of her chest pressing into the heel of his hand through his vambrace- her breathing heightened, but astoundingly even, unpanicked. “I could snap your throat with a flick of my hand. Are they so confident I won’t harm you?”

She gave a steady blink.

“I told you the first time,” she said, enunciation slightly strained by the angle and pressure on her vocal cords, “that they are not particularly concerned.”

Abruptly, Loki understood the flatness in her tone, whenever she referenced her place within SHIELD.

It was a disaffected, almost laughing resignation, at knowing that she was considered disposable- and choosing indifference in response, rendering them irrelevant.

Still holding her in place by her throat, Loki leaned in- eliciting the quietest noise from the back of her throat as he pressed a thigh between hers, slotting them together in a frightening flash of intimacy- and slid his free hand to hers, raising and pinning her wrist above her head, against the glass.

His index finger pressed into the well of her palm like a nail, and her own fingers curled in loosely, grazing his knuckle in a caress.

From this angle, their mouths would be blocked to the cameras.

“Has it occurred to you, beloved,” Loki said softly, “that you would be happier without me?”

A look of wry amusement glowed through her.

“Happiness is transient,” she told him, each word rolling from her lips like droplets of pearlescent blood. “I want to feel alive.”

Loki tightened his fingers around her neck, blunt and testing.

She smiled darkly, undaunted.

Her affection was ruthless, Loki realised, in the truest sense of the word. It cut through everything superfluous with a clean efficiency, unhindered and unhesitating, twisting around obstructions and hindrances to secure firmly into place. It was a malleable absolute, both the origin and the destination, consuming and limitless.

Loki felt her thigh brush against his, a skim of contact through layers of leather, as she rose up an inch, balancing on one arched foot, pressing into him as much as his hand shackled around her neck would permit.

“Do you trust me?”

It was an absurd question.

Something of his reaction must have shown in him, like a shadow flickering through water, because Loki felt the short hum of a low, sweet laugh beneath his hand, the note reverberating like a purr.

She lifted a single hand, gliding over his breastplate until it rested flush against his heart.

Loki felt her mana gather, pooling on her tongue, before she spun the first line of spellsong.

The first taste of her magic seeped through his chest, warm as wine.

“I used to hear a simple song That was, until you came along-”

As the invocation solidified, gathering purpose and intent, Loki felt it course through his bloodstream, filtering into his capillaries.

Her magic luxuriated as it sank into his flesh, spreading like wings and swirling slow like steam from bathing, still closer to unrefined mana than the resultant spellwork. It was like fire-warmed hands gliding up and across his clavicle, wrapping around his ribs to the plane of his back, flush against the fuller of his spine.

“- something new I hear it when I look at you-”

He felt her press past the edge of his psyche.

Loki panicked.

His mind thrashed against the intrusion- his mental shields less like layered walls and ramparts, and closer to a living, ever-shifting labyrinth that would turn a trespasser back upon themselves- but she navigated them deftly, threading through like sunbeams, and Loki didn’t know how to stop her before-

“- wanted more Perfection is so quick to bore-”

Loki felt something displace in him- a strangely formed thought, like a shadow cast from an angle that didn’t quite make sense- you see, she’s the enemy, she lied to you, betrayed you, deceived you like all the others, how dare she, traitor, faithless, hurt her-

- no, that made no sense-

- but why would it not make sense, this was his mind, his thoughts, why would he not think that-

“- are more beautiful by far Our flaws are who we really are-”

Her magic burned, and Loki felt the strange thought begin to pull away from the surface of his mind, like a thick viscous tar being stripped from glass- its opacity pasted over a painful clarity, gumming together disparate fragments of memory and emotion to create a new image, a false mosaic-

That thought does not belong to me. It’s not real-

Loki darted in, seizing hold of the lie, trapping it in his awareness.

Her mana swept in, cremating it in a merciless, glorious flash, until it wisped away harmlessly like smoke.

Oh, Loki thought.

“- used to hear a simple song-”

It was a baptism by fire, disinfection by sunlight, scouring away the remnants of what the Black Order had set into him, splitting away and slaughtering whatever had survived his own purge. Her magic chased through him like wrought flame, killing each lie, and soothing the lingering pain left behind- bathing him in gold until her mana soaked into his bones, his own depleted reservoir brimming over and spilling like mead from a banquet cup.

“- you took my broken melody And now I hear a symphony-”

Loki hadn’t even realised how low the reserves of his magical core were, until she was pouring her own into him. He could feel a host of old injuries drinking her mana in, healing- bruised ribs, fractured bones, torn ligaments- the pain he had ceased noticing evaporating.

Steadily, the spell crystallised into him- and her magic pulled away, sealing the last of the breach like marble, glancing and sure as a kiss to the cheek.

“And now I hear A symphony…”

Loki opened his eyes- unaware that he had even closed them- just in time to see a sheen of gold drain away into her pupil, ebbing to the muted hazel.

She was breathing heavily, a triumphant smile painting her lips, fingertips pressing into his armour, as though trying to sink into the leather and pull him closer.

“Let them try to touch you again,” she breathed, faintly delirious, her grin sharp with a vicious mirth. “I dare them to try.”

Loki felt himself trembling faintly in the afterglow.

His hand smoothed down her neck, stroking into the hollow of her throat. The other still held her wrist, stretching her arm above her head, until she was almost lounging back beneath him.

He tried not to think about how easy it would be to lean down and kiss her.

“That was a risk, darling,” he told her quietly. “If SHIELD saw anything-”

She laughed prettily, euphoric and bright as the stars shattering together, her pale curls rumpling as her head dropped forwards slightly.

“I really don’t care,” she admitted blithely. “Not anymore.”

Loki exhaled an exasperated laugh. She was always at her most dangerous when she took a dose of his chaos.

“My heart,” he murmured, fond and quietly desperate, “my Astra-”

Her head whipped up, almost cracking the back of her head against the glass.

“What.”

She stared up at him, perfectly still, intense as the sun held arrested- and taken truly off guard for the first time in his presence.

“You-” she faltered, “what did you- it’s you. You’re the one who- you’re the only one who-”

It was as though something had snapped inside her, a support strut unexpectedly failing.

Loki sank in towards her, to hold her together, to seal her against him until she stabilised.

“Astr-”

“Loki.”

He halted.

Names had power. And this was the first time she had called his name- no titles to qualify it.

“Ald-” She choked, eyes pressing shut against it, as though the air had been punched out of her chest. “Alderliefest-”

Loki crushed down a whimper at the endearment- dearest of all, most beloved- and the way it was spoken, broken plea and a summons, a true cri de coeur.

Her nails scraped against his chest, the beds turning white at the desperate grip.

“My infinity-”

Loki jolted forwards a few treacherous inches.

Her eyes snapped open, saturating with a bloom of colour that he remembered, that had been drained out of her to create something nondescript and mortal.

Her irises turned richer, darkening, gaining depth, sparkling as though capturing drifting flecks of gold leaf- the effect celestial, and the resultant colour borrowed to create pieces of sea-smoothed Baltic amber, and the basin of a sunset, and the gashes of fire in the stones of the famed Brísingamen in his mother’s jewellery case-

The gold burned up through the hazel, like rice paper catching flame-

- and she shrieked in pain.

-

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[thewomanofrevelation]

julia scher, surveillance bed iii [x]

[resideinar]

Finding the Perfect Hostel Near Sharda University: A Comprehensive Guide

Embarking on a university journey is both exciting and challenging, especially when it comes to finding the right accommodation. For students at Sharda University, located in the heart of Greater Noida, the search for a comfortable, secure, and convenient hostel is paramount. This guide aims to help you navigate through some of the best hostel options near Sharda University, ensuring you find a place that feels like home away from home.

Proximity to Sharda University

One of the most critical factors in choosing a hostel is its proximity to the university. A nearby hostel can save you valuable time and money on transportation, allowing you to focus more on your studies and campus activities. Fortunately, there are several excellent hostels within a short distance from Sharda University.

Top Hostels Near Sharda University

1. A R Residency

A R Residency is a popular choice among Sharda University students due to its close proximity and excellent facilities. It offers spacious rooms with options for single, double, or triple occupancy. Each room is well-furnished with beds, study tables, and wardrobes. The hostel also provides high-speed Wi-Fi, ensuring you stay connected with your academic work and social life.

Amenities:

24/7 security and CCTV surveillance

Housekeeping services

In-house cafeteria

Laundry facilities

Recreation room with indoor games

Distance from Sharda University: 1.2 km

2. Girls PG at Knowledge Park III

This hostel is specifically designed for female students, ensuring a safe and comfortable living environment. The rooms are modern and well-maintained, offering a range of amenities to support your academic and personal needs. The hostel is known for its friendly management and homely atmosphere.

Amenities:

Biometric entry for added security

Regular health check-ups

Nutritious meals provided thrice daily

Study room and library

Transport facility to and from the university

Distance from Sharda University: 1.5 km

3. Boys Hostel in Alpha 1

Catering exclusively to male students, this hostel in Alpha 1 is a great option due to its robust infrastructure and student-friendly services. The rooms are spacious and come with all necessary furnishings. The hostel's management ensures a clean and conducive environment for studying.

Amenities:

Gymnasium and fitness center

High-speed internet

Common room with TV and recreational facilities

Mess with a variety of food options

24/7 power backup

Distance from Sharda University: 2 km

Budget Considerations

Budget is another crucial aspect when choosing a hostel. While proximity to the university and amenities offered are important, ensuring the hostel fits within your financial plan is essential. Here are some tips to manage your hostel budget effectively:

Compare Prices: Look at different hostels and compare their rental charges. Some hostels may offer more amenities at a slightly higher cost, which might be worth the investment.

Inclusions: Check what is included in the rent. Some hostels might have hidden costs for utilities, internet, or food.

Room Sharing: Opting for double or triple sharing rooms can significantly reduce costs.

Safety and Security

The safety and security of students are paramount. Most hostels near Sharda University are equipped with modern security measures like CCTV surveillance, biometric entry, and 24/7 security personnel. Always ensure the hostel you choose has adequate safety measures in place.

Social and Academic Environment

A conducive social and academic environment is essential for a balanced university life. Hostels often organize events, study groups, and recreational activities that help students unwind and build a community. Look for hostels that foster a supportive and engaging atmosphere.

Conclusion

Choosing the right hostel near Sharda University involves considering various factors such as proximity, amenities, budget, safety, and the overall environment. Aman Residency, Girls PG at Knowledge Park III, and the Boys Hostel in Alpha 1 are excellent options that cater to different needs and preferences. By carefully evaluating these aspects, you can find a hostel that not only meets your requirements but also enhances your university experience. Remember, a comfortable and supportive living space plays a significant role in your academic success and personal growth.

[vaishaliiiii]

Skin Cancer (Melanoma)

I. Introduction to Melanoma

Melanoma, the deadliest form of skin cancer, arises from the uncontrolled growth of melanocytes — the cells responsible for skin pigmentation. It poses a significant public health concern due to its aggressive nature and potential to metastasize to other organs. Typically triggered by excessive ultraviolet (UV) exposure, melanoma can manifest as abnormal moles or lesions, demanding early detection for optimal treatment outcomes. This introduction highlights the urgency of understanding melanoma’s risk factors, pathogenesis, and clinical presentation to improve its management. Through effective prevention strategies, heightened public awareness, and advances in medical interventions, the battle against melanoma continues to evolve, emphasizing the importance of timely intervention and education.

II. Types of Skin Cancer

Skin cancer, a prevalent healthcare issue, encompasses various types, with melanoma and non-melanoma being prominent categories. Melanoma arises from melanocytes, while non-melanoma types, including basal cell carcinoma and squamous cell carcinoma, develop from other skin cells. Melanoma’s aggressive nature demands early diagnosis and intervention due to its potential to metastasize. Non-melanoma variants are generally less aggressive but still require timely treatment. These diverse skin cancer types underscore the significance of dermatological healthcare, urging regular skin examinations, preventive measures, and patient education. By addressing each type’s unique characteristics and risk factors, healthcare professionals can enhance patient outcomes and reduce the burden of skin cancer on individuals and the healthcare system.

III. Risk Factors

Several risk factors contribute to the development of skin cancer, emphasizing the need for proactive preventive measures. Excessive exposure to ultraviolet (UV) radiation, whether from the sun or artificial sources like tanning beds, is a primary factor. Fair skin, especially when coupled with a history of sunburns, increases vulnerability. Individuals with numerous moles or atypical nevi, as well as those with a family history of skin cancer, face elevated risks. Genetic factors and certain medical conditions can also play a role. Recognizing these risk factors empowers individuals to adopt sun safety practices, undergo regular screenings, and seek healthcare guidance to mitigate their susceptibility to skin cancer.

IV. Pathogenesis and Molecular Mechanisms

Skin cancer’s pathogenesis involves intricate molecular mechanisms triggered by DNA damage and mutations. Ultraviolet (UV) radiation, a primary culprit, induces genetic alterations in skin cells, disrupting the cell cycle and apoptosis. Genetic mutations, such as those affecting BRAF and NRAS genes, activate signaling pathways that promote uncontrolled growth and evade immune surveillance. Dysregulation of these processes fosters the transformation of normal cells into malignant ones, ultimately giving rise to skin cancer. Understanding these molecular intricacies is crucial for targeted therapies and interventions aimed at halting the aberrant signaling and promoting apoptosis in cancer cells, thereby offering promising avenues for improved treatment strategies.

V. Clinical Presentation

Skin cancer’s clinical presentation varies, necessitating vigilant observation. Melanoma often appears as atypical moles or lesions that exhibit the ABCDE (asymmetry, border irregularity, color variation, diameter >6mm, evolving) characteristics. Non-melanoma types like basal cell carcinoma may present as pearly nodules, while squamous cell carcinoma can manifest as scaly patches. Early detection is vital for effective hospital management. Timely biopsies and histopathological analyses confirm diagnosis and staging, guiding appropriate treatment decisions. Regular self-examinations and professional dermatological evaluations aid in identifying suspicious growths, enabling early intervention and potentially reducing the need for extensive hospital-based interventions.

VI. Diagnosis and Staging

Diagnosis and staging of skin cancer are pivotal aspects of effective healthcare management. Dermatological examinations and biopsies facilitate accurate identification and classification. Staging, often following the AJCC system, assesses tumor size, lymph node involvement, and metastasis extent. Precise staging guides treatment strategies and prognosis prediction. Advanced imaging technologies aid in evaluating cancer’s spread. Early diagnosis through these measures optimizes healthcare management by enabling timely interventions, potentially reducing invasive treatments and improving patient outcomes. Regular screenings and collaboration between medical professionals ensure thorough diagnosis, appropriate staging, and well-informed decisions that align with the best practices in skin cancer healthcare management.

VII. Treatment Options

Skin cancer treatment options encompass a multidisciplinary approach tailored to the cancer type and stage. Surgical interventions involve excisional biopsy, Mohs surgery for precise removal, and lymph node dissection for metastatic cases. Targeted therapy utilizes BRAF and MEK inhibitors to block specific mutations. Immunotherapy employs checkpoint inhibitors and T cell therapy to enhance the immune response against cancer cells. Chemotherapy and radiation therapy may be considered for advanced cases. Evolving treatments, like personalized therapies and clinical trials, offer promising avenues. Choosing the appropriate treatment strategy depends on factors such as cancer progression and patient health. Collaborative efforts among healthcare professionals ensure comprehensive care for optimal treatment outcomes.

VIII. Prognosis and Survival Rates

Prognosis for skin cancer hinges on factors like cancer type, stage, and patient health. Melanoma’s prognosis varies across stages, with localized cases having better survival rates than metastatic ones. Early detection and intervention significantly enhance outcomes. Five-year survival rates offer insights: localized melanoma averages high survival, whereas advanced stages pose greater challenges. Non-melanoma types generally have favorable prognoses due to their lower metastatic potential. Prognostic tools, genetic testing, and personalized medicine contribute to more accurate predictions. Patient education, routine check-ups, and adherence to treatment plans play crucial roles in improving prognosis and overall survival rates in skin cancer cases.

IX. Prevention and Sun Safety

Preventing skin cancer relies on practicing effective sun safety measures. These include applying broad-spectrum sunscreen, wearing protective clothing, and seeking shade during peak sunlight hours. Avoiding tanning beds and promoting awareness about UV radiation risks are vital. Hospital management plays a pivotal role in prevention by integrating educational programs into patient care. Hospitals can offer skin cancer screenings, disseminate sun safety information, and encourage regular check-ups. Healthcare providers can educate patients on self-examination techniques and the importance of early detection. By actively engaging in sun safety advocacy, hospital management contributes to reducing skin cancer incidence and promoting overall community health.

X. Public Awareness and Education

Public awareness and education initiatives are critical in curbing skin cancer’s prevalence. Campaigns, workshops, and educational materials raise consciousness about risk factors, early detection, and sun safety practices. Promoting the ABCDE rule for mole assessment empowers individuals to identify potential warning signs. Schools, community centers, and healthcare providers play essential roles in disseminating information. Increased public awareness fosters proactive behavior, encouraging regular skin checks, preventive measures, and timely medical consultations. By equipping individuals with knowledge, public awareness efforts contribute to a healthier society, reducing the burden of skin cancer and improving long-term outcomes through informed decision-making.

XI. Conclusion

In conclusion, addressing the challenges of skin cancer necessitates a multi-faceted approach encompassing early detection, education, and effective management. QMe Hospital Management and Information System’s commitment to patient care is exemplified through proactive awareness campaigns, regular screenings, and leveraging innovative Information Software. This software streamlines patient records, aids in risk assessment, and facilitates personalized treatment plans. By integrating hospital management with cutting-edge technology, we enhance patient outcomes and empower individuals to take charge of their skin health. Through continued collaboration among healthcare providers, public awareness initiatives, and technology-driven solutions, we can make significant strides in preventing, diagnosing, and treating skin cancer, ensuring a healthier future for all.

[ro-is-struggling]

Undercover || Bucky Barnes x Plus size!Reader

Part I: The Preparations

Summary: Your first mission with the Avengers proves to be more difficult than you expected when you discover you have to go undercover with none other than Bucky Barnes. Spending so much time together posing as an engaged couple leads to the development of feelings that you fear will change your relationship forever.

Warnings: slow burn, mutual pining, fake dating, forced proximity (only one bed trope), mentions of the reader being insecure about her body, probably overuse of pet names (doll), eventual smut (part 3 coming soon ;) )

English is not my first language

Word count: 7900+

Notes: if you’re plus size there’s absolutely nothing wrong with your body, we’re all beautiful in our own ways and you shouldn't feel the need to fit into any standards!! I know a lot of plus size!reader stories focus on the reader insecurities and it sucks. But that being said, this story is a lot a little self indulgent so the reader has some of my own insecurities, sue me!

Tagging my bestie @caritobbg

Part II Part III

When Natasha told you she needed to talk to you, you didn't think she meant anything serious. Maybe she wanted to discuss something about your training routine or give you some feedback on your performance so far. You had little meetings like that all the time given that she had taken you under her wing after you joined the Avengers relatively recent. She had been training you and helping you integrate into the team, teaching you how things worked there and giving you tips on how to operate on the battlefield.

However, when she led you into Steve's office, you knew you weren't going to have one of your routine meetings. He was waiting for you, sitting behind his desk as he flipped through some files. Bucky was standing in the corner, his eyes scanning a folder identical to the one Steve was holding. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed in concentration and you couldn't help but think he looked adorable. As you entered the room both men raised their heads in your direction, Bucky's eyes locking onto yours. You shifted your gaze quickly, concentrating on the photographs and documents resting on the desk as you felt the heat of embarrassment settle on your cheeks.

Steve thanked you for showing up there and asked you to take a seat before he began talking about a case he was working on. It involved a known mobster who had apparently acquired a very dangerous biological weapon and had to be stopped before he had a chance to use it. He gave you details about his routine that they had obtained after countless hours of surveillance and told you some of the theories he had regarding his future plans. As you listened to Steve talk about a charity event that he believed would be used to cover up criminal activity, you couldn't help but wonder what you had to do with any of it. You were still being trained and the closest you had ever come to participating in a mission was the time you had stayed behind to analyze the intelligence they had on their target to help them capture him. You didn't understand why Steve was giving you so many details about the case since you didn't usually participate actively in missions.

"I'm sorry, but why exactly am I here?" You asked, a mixture of confusion and curiosity in your voice. Everything Steve was telling you sounded interesting, but you'd rather know what he was expecting from you before you continued.

"You're here because we need your help on this one." 

"I thought I wasn't supposed to go on missions yet."

"Well, you have to start somewhere, right?" Steve offered you a smile. "You've been training and following our lead all this time, and Nat and I were talking and decided you're ready to start to go out in the field with us a little more." 

It was good news to hear Steve say that all your hard work had paid off. You had worked all this time to get a place on the team, training day and night in preparation for the future. Getting out in the field and participating in missions was what you wanted. However, you didn't feel the overwhelming joy you thought you would feel when you heard those words come out of Steve's mouth. The situation was quite delicate and dangerous so you wondered if you were ready to face it. Suddenly you began to doubt your abilities and the judgment of Steve and Nat for choosing such a dangerous mission for you to make your debut.

"Are you sure I'm ready for this? I mean, it all seems kinda dangerous, are you sure you want me to be a part of this?"

"You are stronger and smarter than you think you are, Y/N." Steve assured you with a smile.

"And your powers can help us get to him without drawing unwanted attention." Natasha intervened.

"We are not going to force you to do this. You can come with us or stay behind if you don't feel ready, the choice is yours." Steve spoke in a soft voice as he noticed the hesitation on your face. "There's no shame in that, but just know that we think you're ready."

"Besides, you wouldn't be alone. Steve and I would be there as back up, making sure you're okay. And Bucky would be there by your side all the time." At the mention of the super soldier, your eyes traveled to his figure standing tall in the corner of the room. He was looking at you, your eyes meeting momentarily. Your heart raced, feeling small under the watchful gaze of his intense blue eyes. You wanted to scream because he wasn't even doing anything and yet the blood rushed to your cheeks. How could you work with him when you weren't able to control your stupid crush? 

It was a bad idea. You weren't ready and Bucky's presence would only distract you and make you more nervous. You knew it, you were sure of it. It always happened when you trained. You were a perfectly normal, functioning person until he walked into the gym and then your brain would stop working, leaving your mind to focus on him and no one else. It was stupid, but you couldn't help it and you doubted you could do it in the middle of a mission. In fact you were pretty sure it would be worse, your mind being distracted by him and by the nerves you would inevitably feel being on the battlefield for the first time. 

You should decline the offer, wait for a less dangerous mission to come along or at least one where you didn't have to work with Bucky. You knew that and that was what you intended to do when you opened your mouth to answer. However, the words that came out of you were the complete opposite.

"Fine, I'm in."

You really should have waited to know more about the mission before agreeing to participate. You should have asked about the details of the plan and your role in it all, but no, your mouth had decided to speak before your brain had time to process the words and now you were doubly screwed. Not only were you feeling the pressure of this being your first mission—considering the risks involved and the great danger you would unleash on the world if you failed—, but you were also feeling nervous after discovering that you would have to go undercover, maintaining a character that was nothing like you.

According to what you had discussed with Steve and Natasha you were supposed to attend the charity gala that the target would present in a few weeks under an identity they had fabricated. You were supposed to be a wealthy woman who loved to spend her family fortune on clothes, accessories and traveling around the world, and cover up her superficiality with charity and philanthropy. But you wouldn't go alone, no, that wouldn't be torture enough. Bucky would be by your side at every moment, playing the role of your fiancé. When they told you that detail you almost choked on your own saliva, your soul leaving your body as you imagined all that would be involved in keeping up that charade.

Honestly, you should have imagined that something like this would happen. Luck had never been on your side and fate loved to surprise you in the worst ways. It always laughed in your face, so why would this time be an exception? So now you not only had to concentrate on a highly dangerous mission and try your best not to screw everything up even though it would be the first time you stepped on the battlefield, but you would also have to find a way to control your stupid heart so it wouldn't explode from cardiac arrest the moment Bucky took you by the hand. No pressure.

"I don't think I can do this, Nat." you muttered as you inspected the clothes your friend and teammate had chosen for your character. Everything looked so... loud. There were so many colors and different textures that you felt overwhelmed. They were very nice clothes, but they weren't your style at all. It was too much. Too colorful, too fancy, too revealing in some cases. You admired women who wore those kinds of outfits, but they weren't for you. You didn't feel comfortable in them and you didn't think they looked good on your body. Your figure wasn't exactly what was on the minds of those who designed those kinds of outfits. However, Natasha didn't seem to see the problem.

"You'll do great! You're ready for this, trust me." She tried to cheer you up as she handed you some heels to try on. They were very pretty, but there was no way you could walk with those on your feet.

"I'm not a spy or an agent. I don't know how to be someone else. What if I fuck things up? You should go in my place."

"I'll be there, just doing something else. Don't forget we need your powers for this."

"Yeah, like you couldn't get the information out of him yourself." You rolled your eyes, dropping onto the bed in frustration.

"Oh we all know I can, but we need to be more… discreet. You can get inside his head and find the code we need without him knowing what is going on and that's exactly what we need right now."

"That is if I get close enough to touch him." You pointed out, reminding her that your mind-reading skills only worked when you were in contact with the person. "And even then I could still fuck things up."

"Where is all this coming from, Y/N?" Nat asked you, putting aside the clothes to sit next to you. "You were more confident than this when we trained."

"I don't know." You shrugged, not ready to talk about the thoughts going around in your head. "I guess I'm just nervous. I have never done something like this before... I don't know if I can be someone else for so long. I'm not used to changing personalities every few minutes and I'm scared I'm going to ruin the mission."

"That's normal, Y/N. These things take time, practice. You'll get better with time." Natasha smiled at you, giving your hand a light squeeze as a sign of support. "You have to think of this as acting. You're not you, you are a character in a story, Elizabeth in this case. You have to try to put inside Elizabeth's shoes, see the world through her eyes."

"Easier said than done." You huffed.

"If you have trouble getting in and out of character you could try to keep some characteristics of her always present in your mind. You know, like talking with her voice, using her mannerisms, dressing in her clothes all the time, that kind of stuff."

"But these clothes suck." You joked looking at the pile of outfits with disgust. "And I don't even think I can walk in these." You added pointing to the pair of heels Nat had previously passed you.

"Oh, that's a problem." The redhead spoke in a more serious tone than you expected. Were heels really that important? "Okay, let's go." Nat got out of bed, taking the shoes from your hand and walking over to the bedroom door.

"Where?"

"I need to teach you to use these. You'll have to wear them for the gala and I have to make sure you can walk, you know. If things go south you'll be grateful that I taught you how to run and fight in these." Natasha explained, waving the shoes in her hand before disappearing out the door.

"Fight? Nobody mentioned anything about fighting in high heels!" You reproached with concern, getting out of bed to follow your friend, her laughter echoing down the hallway. "Natasha, come back! I don't wanna do this anymore!"

After spending all day learning to move with agility wearing high heels you were convinced that they were the worst invention of mankind. They were nothing more than an element of torture, a tool of the oppressive patriarchal system to keep women tired, preoccupied with their aching feet and not with the problems of the world. It seemed impossible to you that a person would choose to wear those things on their feet voluntarily and you did not look forward to the time when it would be your turn to wear them again.

You collapsed on the living room couch, too tired and sore to walk to your room. Your plan was to rest there for a while, maybe take a nap, and head to your bed when your legs responded again. You settled in between the pillows and turned on the TV so that the sound would quiet the voice in your mind that reminded you that your long list of complications had just had one more added to it. You would be surprised if you managed to accomplish this mission without disaster. You flicked through the channels without paying much attention, opting to leave the reruns of a sitcom in the background as you struggled not to let the negative voice in your head win yet again.

You didn't know how long you sat there alone in silence. The sitcom laugh track sounded distant, mocking you as you lost yourself in the depths of your thoughts. Your eyes were glued to the television, but you had stopped paying attention to your surroundings, focused on the internal fight between the positive and negative voices in your mind that sought to cheer you up and tear you down respectively. You were so distracted that you didn't notice the couch sinking beside you under the weight of the body of someone sitting next to you. 

"Are you okay?" Bucky's voice brought you out of your thoughts. You turned to look at him, confused at first and then embarrassed as you realized the state you were in.

"Oh, yeah no I'm fine… I was just training with Nat." 

"She can be a little rough while training."

"Oh I'm used to that! But this was a different kind of training. She was teaching me to fight in high heels. And let me tell you something, it's uncomfortable as hell. I'm pretty sure its a form of torture, really." You joked and Bucky let out a laugh that awakened butterflies in your stomach. He looked adorable when he smiled, his lips curved upward and his eyes sparkling with amusement. You felt proud to be the one to cause such a response in him, even if it was over a stupid joke. 

"Copy that. I'll stay away from high heels then." This time it was your turn to laugh. Imagining someone as tall and burly as Bucky struggling to walk in heels helped push some of the negative thoughts that were weighing you down.

The room fell into silence once again, cut only by the sound of the television in the background. You pretended to pay attention to the plot unfolding in front of your eyes, but your mind was elsewhere. Your initial concerns had been aggravated by Bucky's presence, which was a problem in itself. You never knew how to act around him, your brain short-circuited when he approached and you forgot how to talk and be a normal human being. 

You wanted to be friends with him, but you were afraid that your crush would be too obvious if you opened your mouth. So you stayed silent most of the time and only spoke to him if he talked to you first. The problem was that Bucky, just like you, was a person of few words so most of the time you spent time together you did it in silence, sharing a couple of words until one of you left. You always felt awkward in those situations, wishing the earth would swallow you up or magically grant you social skills. And you always wondered if he felt it too or if it was another one of those cases where you were overthinking things. You used to remain silent no matter what for fear of making the situation worse, but this time you made an effort to keep the conversation afloat.

"Do you think we'll be okay?" You asked, glancing away from the television to look at Bucky. "The mission, I mean. Do you think it'll be okay?" You added noticing the confusion in his eyes.

"Why wouldn't we?"

"I don't know, it's my first time in the field." You shrugged. "An undercover mission to stop a mob boss from using a biological weapon seems a bit dangerous and intense for a first mission, don't you think?

"You're gonna do great. And you won't be alone so stop worrying about it. If something goes wrong it's everybody's fault because we're a team." Bucky smiled at you and that gesture did more to calm your nerves than his words, although you appreciated them too. "I'm going to be there with you the whole time, I've got you back."

"Do you really think people are going to believe we're together?"

"Why wouldn't they?"

"I don't know… what if I suck at acting?" You said so you wouldn't have to admit that you were actually the one who found it unbelievable that someone like Bucky would date someone like you. 

"We'll be fine." He assured you. "But if it makes you feel better we could practice."

"Practice?"

"Yeah, like spending more time together and getting to know each other a little better so we are more comfortable with each other."

"Oh." You muttered, unsure of what to say. It seemed like a good idea, although you weren't sure you could stand his proximity for long without making a fool of yourself. "Yeah, sounds great."

"Good! So… what are you watching?" Bucky moved closer to you, his leg brushing against yours as he settled on the couch to watch TV.

"Oh it's nothing, just background noise to keep me company as I rest my sore legs." You explained moving your feet that were resting on the coffee table. "But we could find something to watch together."

The next few days were not as terrible as you thought they would be. You continued to prepare for the big day, training and refining the details of the plan with your teammates, and even though you still felt a little insecure, your nerves had been considerably reduced. Much of it was due to Bucky.  You had been spending more time together, cultivating your friendship to feel more comfortable on the day of the mission, and that had helped you a lot. You still felt butterflies in your stomach every time he looked at you or uttered your name, but your brain had learned to respond correctly in spite of it. You felt less uncomfortable around him and you were no longer afraid to share moments of silence with him since they no longer felt awkward. 

You could say that you had become friends and surprisingly that helped you keep your crush under control. He was no longer just the perfect, unattainable man who melted your heart with just a smile and whom you admired from a distance, but now he was your friend. You knew him a little better and felt more confident when you were with him. And even if that didn't make your feelings for him disappear, it helped you see him from a different perspective. 

You liked being friends with him. Bucky was someone fun and relaxed when he wasn't on the battlefield or fighting his own demons. And once you got to know him, you found him to be easy to talk to. He was just like you, quiet and reserved around strangers, and talkative and relaxed when he was with his friends. You found that to be a good thing, one more thing you had in common.

Bucky was also very good with words. Somehow, he always managed to say exactly what you needed to hear. Whenever your nerves would flare up Bucky would find just the right words to calm you down, reminding you that Steve and Nat had trained you well and that everyone supported you and trusted you. He gave you confidence and reassurance. In spite of everything, you were grateful to have him as your mission partner. He was more than qualified for this and you now felt comfortable enough with him to trust him. 

You talked a lot about the mission in your time together as well. Bucky understood that part of your nervousness came from the lack of control you felt you had over the situation. There were too many variables that could negatively affect the plan, things that neither of you had control over. So he did his best to help you focus on the ones you did, discussing details of your characters' backstories and theorizing about different scenarios that could play out. You even discussed what levels of physical contact you were comfortable with. You were supposed to be engaged, so closeness was unavoidable. You both agreed that you were comfortable with all kinds of physical contact and displays of affection, from holding hands to the occasional kiss, although you couldn't deny that the latter made you feel a certain way inside.

When Bucky asked you if you were willing to kiss him if necessary, you could feel the blood in your whole body rush to your cheeks. So far it hadn't occurred to you that there might be a situation where you would have to kiss—you were engaged for God's sake—, and as much as the idea didn't disgust you or make you uncomfortable, you weren't sure you were ready for something like that. You didn't think you could taste his lips, find out what it felt like to kiss him, and then go on with your life as if it had never happened. But you couldn't tell him that so you nodded, hoping that there wouldn't be a situation where you had to kiss.

When the day of the mission arrived, your stomach was a roller coaster. You barely ate all day as you nervously awaited the moment to depart the avengers compound for the expensive hotel where Steve had paid for a room for you and Bucky. He and Nat would not stay with you so as not to compromise your covers. In fact, you wouldn't even fly together to your destination. They would board a Quinjet loaded with all the equipment they needed to help them elude the event's security cameras, while you would fly on Tony's private jet to reinforce the image of wealthy people you were supposed to be.

"Here you have everything you'll need for your stay." Natasha told you, handing you a suitcase full of clothes that she had prepared based on your character. "And this is what you have to wear now. You can change in the jet if you want, just make sure to have this on when you land." You peeked inside the bag she had handed you and grimaced in disgust, remembering how much you hated the style of clothing you were supposed to wear for the next few hours.

"Thank you, Nat." You thanked her as you hugged each other goodbye. Once you boarded your flights you would not see each other again until the end of the mission, communicating only through calls or your intercoms.

"You're gonna do great! Just relax and remember our training. Oh and also keep Elizabeth in your mind at all times, I put some stuff in there to help you with that." She said pointing to the suitcase she had just handed you. You nodded to yourself, wondering what she had meant by that as you watched her enter the Quinjet.

Once Steve and Nat took off it was your and Bucky's turn to get ready to fly. You decided to change your attire before boarding the jet, thinking that maybe that would help you get into character one step at a time. Although you refused to put on your high heels until it was completely and utterly necessary.

"You promise you'll catch me if I fall down while wearing these?" You joked sitting barefoot on the Jet, your heels resting on the side beside you.

"Always, doll. I got your back." Bucky smiled at you and butterflies exploded in your stomach, not only because of the sweet smile on his face, but also because of the use of that pet name. 

Doll.

He had never called you that before. You liked the way it sounded coming from his lips.  It made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, more than normal. You liked the idea of Bucky using affectionate nicknames to refer to you. You had never heard him call anyone that before and for a moment you allowed yourself to get lost in the fantasy that it meant something. You knew he was probably just getting into character, acting more affectionate with you because he had to pretend you were engaged, but you didn't care. As the blood in your body rose to your cheeks you allowed yourself to imagine what it would really feel like to have Bucky call you that all the time, showing you the love and affection you so desperately craved. 

When you finally arrived at the hotel the sun was beginning to set. Bucky took your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before walking through the large glass doors of the building and approaching the front desk. He took it upon himself to speak to the receptionist, giving her the false information under which you had booked the room. You were grateful that he had taken the initiative because your brain was overwhelmed, concentrating on keeping your balance on those high heels, trying not to forget that you had to act like a completely different person and, as if all that wasn't enough, trying hard not to giggle like a schoolgirl at Bucky's proximity.

With your keys in hand, you walked with your hands intertwined to the elevator, parting only when the metal doors closed. You leaned your back against the mirrored wall, letting out a long sigh. You hadn't done anything and you were already tired. You didn't want to imagine what the next day would be like.

"Are you okay?" Bucky's soft voice brought you out of your thoughts. You looked up at him, giving him a small smile.

"Yeah, I'm just tired I guess." You shrugged. "Over-thinking every little thing I do is exhausting."

"Well, you got tonight to relax and get ready for the big day. We can stay inside and order room service."

"That sounds nice." You smiled at him just as the elevator doors opened.

The first thing you did as soon as you entered the room was to kick the high heels off your feet. Bucky laughed softly at the exclamation of relief you let out at being freed from those instruments of torture, shaking his head as he closed the door to the room. Once you were settled you contacted Steve and Nat to let them know that you had arrived at your destination, and spent a couple of hours discussing the plan and adjusting some details following new information you had obtained about the security of the event. It was nothing too important, just a couple of extra steps Nat would have to do in order to help you trick the security cameras and guards. Your part of the mission remained the same, so you tried not to think too much about the changes so as not to get more confused or nervous.

When the call finally ended, Bucky took it upon himself to order dinner using room service. You were pretty sure it would be quite expensive given the type of hotel you were staying in, but you wouldn't be paying for it so you didn't care. Tony had enough money to cover that expense and staying in your room was the right decision right now so you felt no guilt.

While you waited for the food, you decided to change your ridiculous outfit for a more comfortable one. Since you didn't plan on going out again, you opened your suitcase in search of pajamas that you could wear without feeling strangely out of place. However, after inspecting the clothes Nat had packed for you, you only found one pair of pajamas that, like the rest of the clothes, were not at all your style. It was a pink satin two-piece set. The shorts were a decent length. They covered your butt well but left more thigh exposed than you'd like, especially considering Bucky was with you. The t-shirt, however, was a short tank top that you felt barely covered you.

"I'm gonna kill Natasha when this is all over." You muttered under your breath as you rummaged through the pile of clothes looking for something else you could wear. If this was her way of making you get into character you hated it. You knew it could have been something much worse—she could have packed a sexy nightgown or something—, but that didn't make it any better.

"Why?" Bucky's curious voice behind you startled you.

"She packed this ugly satin pajama for me to use as a way to get me into character I guess and I have nothing comfy to wear." You complained, pouting. There was nothing you wouldn't give at that moment to have your leggings and oversized t-shirts. They would clash with the luxurious room you were in, but at least you would be comfortable.

"Here, use this." Bucky threw you one of his t-shirts that he took from his suitcase, effectively hitting you in the face with it. "I always have some extra t-shirts just in case."

The shirt smelled like him, a mixture of his cologne and his signature body scent assaulting your nostrils. "Thanks." You thanked him with a smile before disappearing into the bathroom so you could change.

You took advantage of the moment of solitude to wash your face and calm your emotions a bit. You needed to concentrate and stop complaining. You were there for a very important mission. The lives of thousands of people depended on you doing things right, that should be your priority not a pair of uncomfortable clothes you didn't like. Bucky was a professional and you were sure he wouldn't be noticing how bad you looked in those clothes, let alone commenting on it. He had his mind on the mission and you had to do the same. 

Determined not to let little things keep bothering you, you changed into your pajamas. The shorts barely covered your butt and mid-thighs, the imperfect skin of your legs completely exposed to the world. You pushed your insecurities aside, taking the T-shirt Bucky had given you and pulling it over your head. It was long enough to almost cover your pants, resting loosely on your figure. You were a little surprised. You knew Bucky was much bigger, taller and sturdier than you, but for some reason you didn't expect his clothes to fit so loose. You were grateful though because at least one thing you were wearing made you feel comfortable.

When you emerged from the bathroom your eyes met Bucky's defined bare back, the muscles of his broad shoulders flexing as he rummaged through his suitcase. You froze for a moment, glued to the bathroom door frame as your eyes admired every little detail that adorned his exposed skin. He had a couple of old scars all along his back, some sharper than others, and you wondered how many of them dated from his time as the Winter Soldier. You resisted the urge to cross the room to touch them, though you really wanted to know what it would feel like to caress his back, to feel his warm skin under your fingertips.

"Oh, sorry!" You exclaimed, finally exiting the bathroom, though keeping your eyes glued to anything but him. "I didn't know you were changing." You cringed at the awkwardness in your voice, praying that he didn't notice the way in which his exposed body affected you.

"It's fine, doll, I don't mind. You're my future wife after all." Bucky joked, but your brain was too distracted by the nickname he had once again used to refer to you to respond. Butterflies awoke in your stomach and you had to resist the urge to fold into yourself and explode with joy as your mind imagined different romantic scenarios that would never happen.

"Are you okay?" Bucky asked when you didn't answer, turning to look at you. Your eyes fell again on his figure and to your luck you discovered that he had put on a T-shirt. Although nothing about what he was wearing really helped you much. The fabric of the t-shirt emphasized the width of his shoulders and the gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips didn't leave much to the imagination. For the sake of the mission and the sake of your mind you locked your gaze on his face, refusing to lower your eyes beyond his neck. 

But then you noticed that Bucky's gaze was focused not on your face but on your legs. It was only for a split second, but you could have sworn you saw him wander his eyes down the length of your figure, pausing momentarily on your thighs before returning his gaze to your face. Your heart raced, the blood from all over your body rushing to your cheeks as you discreetly tugged at the fabric of your shorts for a little more coverage.

"Yeah, sorry. I'm just a little tired." You lied, ignoring the tension in the air. You walked to the bed, pushing past him to settle on the mattress, using a pillow to cover your exposed legs.

The rest of the evening went on as normal. The tension in the air was quickly forgotten as soon as dinner arrived. You hadn't eaten much all day so you were starving, your stomach growling at the mere smell of food. You ate dinner to the sound of the big TV in the room, flipping through the channels until you found something interesting. You settled on a thriller movie that neither of you had ever seen before. The plot sounded interesting so you let yourselves get lost in the images so you didn't have to think about what had happened minutes before.

The movie turned out to be longer than you expected. It was getting late and you were starting to get sleepy, but you didn't mention anything until the credits rolled on the screen. Not because you cared that much about seeing the ending, but because you didn't want to think about the sleeping arrangements. There was only one bed in the room and as big as it was you weren't looking forward to the moment when you would have to lie down next to Bucky. If the scent of his cologne permeating the T-shirt he had lent you was enough to arouse the butterflies in your stomach you didn't want to imagine what feeling the warmth of his body next to yours would awaken. 

When the movie came to an end it was Bucky who turned off the TV, amazed at how late it was. He let out a yawn as he stretched, mumbling something about how it would be better if you went to sleep because you had a long day tomorrow. You nodded, getting out of bed to move the many decorative pillows to the side to make room to sleep. When you were satisfied with the number of pillows on the bed you headed to the bathroom where you locked yourself away for a few minutes to fulfill your nightly routine.

As you brushed your teeth you tried to mentally prepare yourself for the night ahead. The bed was big enough for the two of you, as long as you kept relatively still during the night you would have nothing to worry about. That was if you managed to get any sleep, but you tried not to think about it. Taking a couple of deep breaths to calm your racing heart, you opened the bathroom door. 

You expected to find Bucky already lying in bed or at least arranging his side, but you were surprised to find him lying on the couch. "What are you doing there?" You asked in confusion. The couch was too small for a super soldier to spend a whole night there. Bucky was huge, there was no way he would sleep comfortably in that tiny space. "Come to bed."

"You can take the bed, I'm fine here." He mumbled without opening his eyes.

"Bullshit! That couch is tiny. Come to bed with me." It would be awkward, but you weren't going to leave Bucky sleeping on the couch. Not only because that was cruel considering how small it was for him, but also because you needed him to be well rested for tomorrow. It would do you no good to have him by your side at the gala if he was tired and sore. You didn't know why he had chosen to sleep there, but you wouldn't leave him.

Unless he had done it because he didn't want to sleep with you next to him. You wouldn't blame him if that was the case, he probably found it strange to have to share such a small space with you. Especially considering the pajamas Natasha had packed for you. Embarrassment flooded your insides as you listened to the voice of insecurity in your head. "I mean, if you want to, obviously. I know it can be a little, humm, a little weird sleeping next to me, but, humm, I don't mind sharing the bed with, humm, with you." You mumbled incoherently, cursing your nerves for making you sound like a complete idiot.

"It's not weird." Bucky hurried to say, afraid that he had hurt your feelings by accident. It was the last thing he wanted to do, especially since he thought the opposite. There was nothing else he wanted more at that moment than to lie down next to you and wrap you in his arms for the rest of the night. But you didn't want that, so he thought it best to give you space. You were nervous enough as it was, so he didn't want to add to your problems.

"I just… I didn't want to make you uncomfortable, that's all."

"Well, you won't… So come here." You said, patting the empty space on the bed next to you. Bucky got up from the couch and walked over to the bed, arranging the side opposite yours before settling under the sheets. You did the same, adjusting the pillow before lying on your back, eyes glued to the ceiling. "Good night, Bucky." You whispered before turning off the lights, glancing over to his side for a moment to make sure he was already settled.

“Night, doll.”

There it was again.

Doll.

He said it so naturally, as if it were a common nickname he used with you. His voice didn't tremble when he uttered it, while you had to bite your tongue to keep the incoherent schoolgirl squeals from escaping your lips. You didn't know why he had started using such a pet name with you, but you honestly didn't want him to stop. It made you feel special. And yes, you knew it was stupid, but you couldn't help but enjoy the tingle that affectionate nickname awakened inside you when it left his lips. 

With a small smile on your lips, you rolled over on your side to sleep, turning your back to Bucky. You were sure you would be unable to close your eyes if you had him in front of you, your curious mind desperate to discover what he looked like in his sleep. You also made sure to keep as much distance as possible between your bodies as you didn't want Bucky to feel uncomfortable or accidentally invade his personal space. You also didn't want the opportunity to find out what it felt like to sleep next to the warmth of his body. You feared that once you found out you wouldn't be able to sleep alone in your bed again.

The night was as hard as you had imagined. Your brain refused to shut down, hyper-aware of your surroundings. Your eyes were glued to the clock on the nightstand, watching the minutes tick by as you listened to Bucky's breathing get deeper and deeper. You envied him for being able to fall asleep so quickly. You wondered if he had ever been trained for it or if it was just one of his many talents.

You tried not to move too much in bed. The last thing you wanted at that moment was to wake Bucky and have to explain to him the reasons behind your insomnia. But at the hour mark, your body forced you to change position. You rolled onto your back, admiring the ceiling of the room in the dark. The street lights coming in through the window formed figures on the surface, and for a while you amused yourself by finding shapes in them. 

Eventually your eyes strayed to the figure of the sleeping super soldier beside you. He was lying on his side facing you, his chest rising and falling with his breathing. The muscles in his face were relaxed, giving him a peaceful, almost angelic look. It was strange to see him so calm given that most of the time he walked around with a frown on his face, regardless of being angry or upset about something. But you liked seeing him like that, the calmness suited him. You had the urge to stroke his cheek and brush back the strands of hair that rested on his face, so you moved to turn your back to him once more. You needed to control yourself before you ended up doing something you would regret.

You closed your eyes and tried to sleep, counting sheep and concentrating on your breathing so you could relax. You tried everything, but still nothing worked. Your mind always found a way to divert its attention to something else. Sometimes it was the sound of Bucky's breathing or his slight movements on the bed. Other times it was the mission that awaited you tomorrow, the worry of having to work without any sleep ironically keeping you awake. And sometimes simple things like the sounds of the street would throw you off your concentration, ruining all the progress you had made.

"Stop moving so much." Bucky's hoarse voice from behind you startled you. You thought he was asleep.

You were about to apologize for disturbing him, but the words got stuck in your throat when you felt the weight of his arm on your body. His hand clutched your torso and very lightly pulled you closer to him, using his strength to slide you across the bed as if you weighed nothing. You wanted to ask him what he was doing, but then you felt the heat of his body against yours and your brain short-circuited.

"I'm sorry." You finally whispered in the dark. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't. It was a nightmare." Bucky was so close to you that you could feel his warm breath crashing against your hair as he spoke. It awakened a tingle that spread throughout your body, making you shiver.

"Oh." You whispered, not knowing what to say. Your brain was fucked up, completely overwhelmed by Bucky's body pressing against your back while his arm held you in place. The only thing that allowed you to have a semblance of normal cognitive functioning was the fact that your eyes couldn't see his face. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Nah, it's fine, doll. Don't worry." He spoke against your hair and your heart raced at the mention of the nickname. There was something in the raspiness of his voice that made you love him even more. "What I would like to do is go back to sleep, but I can't do that if you keep moving like that." There was a hint of amusement in his voice that let you know he wasn't upset with you.

"So what? Are you going to keep me trapped under your arm like it's a weighted blanket?"

"If I have to, yes."

"Bucky!" You protested although a slight chuckle escaped your lips. You tried to move, but Bucky tightened his grip, successfully pinning you under his arm. "Allright, you win! I'll stop moving."

"I don't know if I can trust your word, doll."

"What? Bucky! C'mon, let me go!"

"The hand stays until you fall asleep."

"Fine! It can stay, just not there." You accepted, taking his hand between yours and moving it to rest a little higher. "I don't need you clutching my belly rolls all night." You spoke in a light and funny tone to hide the fact that it was one of your biggest insecurities. You hated it when anyone touched your belly because you yourself hated your belly. In your mind everyone felt the same way you did about your body, seeing the same imperfections you hated. And every time someone hugged you from behind and rested their hands on your stomach, all you could think about was how exposed and vulnerable you felt, convinced that the other person would be judging you for your body shape.

Bucky thought to tell you that there was nothing wrong with your belly. He knew you felt insecure about it, he could tell by the way you always tried to cover it up or how you tensed up when someone hugged you from behind. He didn't understand why it was such a big issue for you. When Bucky looked at you he saw a beautiful woman, perfect from head to toe, and he didn't understand how you weren't able to see yourself the same way.

He wanted to tell you how beautiful you were, to teach you to look at yourself the way he saw you. But now was not the right time. It was late and you were in the middle of a mission. You both needed to sleep and he feared that such conversation would take a long time—not to mention that it might even make you uncomfortable. So instead of insisting, he accepted your change, adjusting his arm a few inches higher so as not to bother you. 

"Whatever, doll," Bucky said. "Just stay still and try to get some sleep. You're gonna need it."

You thought it was easy for him to say that since he usually closed his eyes and fell asleep in a matter of minutes. But you were surprised to notice that your tired eyes began to grow heavy, closing on their own. Your body relaxed under the weight of Bucky's arm, reveling in the warmth he radiated. As you leaned further against his chest to get more comfortable you thought you could get used to it. Bucky was a comfortable pillow and your bodies seemed to fit together perfectly. 

As you slowly succumbed to sleep, you couldn't help but think that there was no way you could ever sleep alone again after discovering what it felt like to be trapped in Bucky's arms. You were completely and utterly screwed.

[bri1234]

My Favorite Quotes from the Halloween Heists

I rewatched the 8 Brooklyn Nine-Nine Halloween Heists to find the funniest/best quotes!

Season 1 - Episode 6: Halloween I

Holt: Where did you get those birds?

Jake: By using my big fat brain!

Season 2 - Episode 4: Halloween II

Jake: Those guys at the impound. Did they really smash my car?

Holt: No. In fact, I had them wash it.

Jake: Ha. Good one, Captain. You can't "wash" a car.

Season 3 - Episode 5: Halloween III

*wailing at Boyle’s cockroaches*

Gina: If I die, turn my tweets into a book!!!

Season 4 - Episode 5: Halloween IV

Hitchcock: Attention, everyone.

Rosa: Enough. We know. The heist is happening.

Hitchcock: No, my ex-wife just died. No more alimony, baby!

Season 5 - Episode 4: HalloVeen

Holt: You’re not Cheddar, you’re just some common bitch.

Season 6 - Episode 16: Cinco de Mayo

Captain Holt: She's making it up. The pregnancy scam was my idea. Jake: No. No, no, no, no, Amy. Wait, is that true? Did you just lie to me about our baby? Charles: Yeah, did you lie to us about our baby?

-----

Captain Holt: How many cummerbunds are you holding right now? Zero. It's one bund to none, son!

Season 7 - Episode 11: Valloweaster

Amy: Sorry, sir, that no one wants to bone your dusty old skeleton.

-----

Captain Holt: Is this about the surveillance system I set up in your apartment? [flashback to Holt watching Jake and Amy in bed on a monitor] Captain Holt: Sleep, sleep, you ugly morons.

Season 8 - Episode 9: The Last Day

Jake: So the heist is actually going to be the perfect goodbye.

Amy: What does that mean?

Jake: Drama, glamor, shocking twists and turns. And the whole heist ends up with everyone at the Brooklyn Bridge.

Amy: Is that meaningful? Have we ever been there together as a squad?

Jake: Uh, yeah.

[theme music plays over clip from opening credits]

Jake: I'm not sure why we all looked so intense, we were just getting falafel.

Amy: I mean, that falafel stand is really good.

Jake: True that, yeah.

—————

Holt: Well, your intel is of no use since we’re locked in here. Unless… you smash your gigantic body through the wall.

Terry: I AM NOT THE KOOL-AID MAN!!!

Obviously, there are so many more funny quotes from this show. I just love these 😁

If there are any other quotes that you found funny in these episodes, feel free to drop them in the comments!

[wyn-n-tonic]

Golden, Like Daylight -- Part IX

Word Count: 3,087 Warnings: PTSD. Children. Fluff. Angst. Emotions. Dialogue heavy bullshit. Author's Note: Welp... this is it, y'all. I posted the first chapter of this on March 4, 2021, and it's coming to a close today on April 5, 2021, and I'm... a goddamn mess. I'm not ready to let these characters go, both the TF boys and my own character in Leah. I really appreciate all your kindness and encouragement throughout writing this, my whole heart belongs to you. Thank you, I hope you love this as much as I love you.

MASTERLIST | PART: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX

Her room is painted like a sunrise. He remembers the first time he went up there, like it was the first breath he ever took. All rising pinks and melting blues.

He wanted her to feel that freedom from the beginning.

Leah’s hands climb his back, a kiss pressed to the hot skin between his shoulder blades as he dips to pluck his peaceful little girl out of slumber.

“Baby, let her sleep.”

But he’s shaking his head, careful with hers in his hand, “she can sleep later, I need her with me now.”

“Hmm,” she hums, turning him to guide him back to their bedroom, “keep that enthusiasm.”  

Their shuffle is quiet, Luna’s big eyes slipping back to sleep nestled into her fathers shoulder.

He’s been home for over half a year and as he crawls back into bed, baby and wife clinging to him, part of him still can’t believe it. That after everything he told her, she let him stay. That, like tonight, she’s soothed the new nightmares like the old. That he celebrated Christmas with them, Luna’s first.

That he watched her lift herself up and take her first steps. That after all he had done, those first steps were towards him.

That he helped blow out the candles that he helped light, on the cake he helped make for the little girl who has her daddy’s eyes. His dimple. His smile.

One hand splayed across each of their backs, he’s talking to Leah but directing it at Luna when her bright brown eyes open again to find his.

“Hi, baby,” he whispers, Leah’s soft hand falling on his under her small back, “I’m sorry that mama and papa woke you up.”

She reaches a tiny hand up to his face and he melts into the small touch of her, his heart swelling at the unbelievable luck he has in chances granted again and again when a little, “papa,” tumbles forward in the softly lit room.

He feels Leah jump and his eyes snap to hers before they both fall back to Luna, just over one year.

“She just sa—“

“Say it again, baby,” Leah coos, tears spilling over Frankie’s eyes.

She doesn’t understand but as she grabs for him, the small voice repeats, “papa,” and he didn’t know his heart could feel so full despite all the compounding moments of fullness she’s brought to him. That they both have.

He bites his lip while looking into Leah’s glassy eyes and knows that her heart is just as swollen in this moment and all the others.

“The next one’s first word will be mama,” his hand finds the small swell of her lower belly, “I promise.” —————

She presses a coffee cup into his hand before taking a seat across from him on the living room floor, baby toys and blankets strewn across the space between them.

“What happened?”  

He takes a deep breath, finding the words he spoke out loud to his team in Lorea’s mansion, “A serious fuck up.”

“I figured that much, Francisco, but what happened?”

So he tells her and she lets him.

He tells her about the seventeen grand of Santi’s own money. How he promised himself no live fire and let himself and his desperation to give her and Luna and himself the best lead him into shattering his soul again. Ripping it up as life drained from the eyes of his fellow human beings and how he didn’t even have the protection of a flag on his shoulder to ease a semblance of that pain. How even if they were bad guys, they weren’t his bad guys to worry about.

He tells her about the helicopter crash, the result of his own greed for the money and for a lack of conflict led to more loss and conflict. How he doesn’t know if he’s the one who fired first on that village but he knows he fired, an automatic weapon slung across his shoulders as easily as the diaper bag he carries through the grocery store for her.

He tells her about the crumbling mountainside, how all he saw at the bottom looking down was himself never coming home to his girls. How that’s when something within him finally snapped, when he and Will silently decided to take the reigns from Tom and Santi’s hands.

He tells her about the fire, burning hundreds of thousands of dollars to keep warm in the freezing air that wrapped around the Andes. About the gunfire that followed them through the rocks in the morning sun.

About standing over Tom’s dead body, the relief and guilt crashing inside him like a warm front meeting a cold one. How he thinks he’ll feel those both every day that he wakes because, unlike the survivor’s guilt easing through you on active duty at the knowledge that this just happens sometimes, this time was different.

He tells her that, after all of that, he threw millions of dollars down a snowy ravine in the middle of Peru where no one would ever see it again, not even his girls who needed it so much because he realized it wouldn’t be fucking worth it for them to have it if it meant not coming home.

He tells her how he almost shot that kid in the jungle. How he would’ve shot every kid standing between him and the boat to get home to his own.

He tells her that he thinks, at the end of it all, Santiago and his plan ended up doing more damage to that country than not.

She listens intently, focused wholly on him. Her face never breaks but he can see the cogs turning behind her eyes, trying to take it all in. Trying to understand.

“I understand if you want me to leave, if you never want to see me again,” he reaches out for her hand, a shiver of shock running through his spine when she doesn’t pull away from him.

Blinking as the words catch up with her, her head shakes, “I just got you back, Francisco, you promised me you wouldn’t leave again so why the fuck do you think I want you to go now?”

“Because what I did is unforgiv—“

“It’s not, there are terrible men in this world who do worse everyday,” he sees the slight sheen of tears coat her lashes, “and you helped stop one of them.”

“There will be others to take his place,” he says around a sip of his drink, his coffee gone cold in the spaces between all his words.

Her hand gives a squeeze to the one it holds, “there will always be others to take his place.”

His breathing evens out, anchored in his chest by a warmth he doesn’t deserve, “there's something else you need to know.”

He tells her about the five million dollars they were able to make it to the boat with, “we signed it all over to Molly and the girls. Will and Benny and I, we decided to do so while Santi was sleeping. We figured, ya know, at least we were coming home. It wasn’t really money we were losing since it was never ours to begin with, Tom’s family lost everything and they didn’t even know it.”

The tears do come now, streams running down his face, “I couldn’t stop thinking about how close you came to losing everything and not even knowing it too.”

His stunted words around the hiccups in his throat draw Luna’s attention, her babbles reaching out to him the way she tried to soothe Leah’s over the weeks prior. Their attention is on her now, eyes wide as she lifts herself with the couch for leverage.

She toddles one step towards his still shaking body before tumbling forward, his hands dropping the now empty coffee cup and Leah’s hand to catch her.

He pulls her small body close, hiding his face in the crook of her neck to inhale the scent of baby lotion. As she giggles in his ear, he looks up to Leah’s soft face, “the boys and I still took three hundred thousand.” —————

“You're fucking insane,” Deana doesn’t quite whisper into Leah’s ear, “a whole ass baby with another one barely even a year old, have you heard of a condom?”

“How many mimosas did you have already, D?”

Kristyn struggles with her key in the door, a large bag in hand, “judging by the slight slur, I’m going with about three so far.”

“Fuck off, K,” she points, turning back to Leah, “I'm just saying that if that big goofy idiot husband of yours goes on another of his boy’s trips, I will kill him this time.”

Her fingers are still quoting around the air as the threat falls around them, Frankie’s attention at the other end of the room grabbed away from the pureed carrots of Luna’s lunch.

“Well,” Kristyn interjects, holding the bag forward, “that’s why I come bearing the gift of one Benjamin Miller, he couldn’t be here because of a boy’s trip.”

“What do you mean?”

Leah looks back at Frankie, his eyes now turned to the conversation. She sees the pain and confusion there, he didn’t know.

Kristyn follows Leah’s gaze before looking back at the older sister in front of her, “he promised me this was his last one and he’s sorry it had to take place during your baby shower but,“ she holds the bag out again, “he says you’ll like this one.”

“It's not a shower,” Leah rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah,” Kristyn interjects, “a sprinkle. Whatever.”

“It’s not even that since, ya know,” she looks down at the tiny bundle in her arms, “he's already here.”

“A birthday present then,” she beams, “Benny says he’ll set it up when he gets home.”

Frankie’s laughter finds them now, choking around the baby food he’s trying to convince his stubborn daughter of—she’s not and she’s learned how to voice that disgust with all thanks given to her Uncle Benny.

“Baby, it’s another military surveillance camera.”

Kristyn laughs, “yeah, our whole house is strung up with them at this point but they come in handy to watch the neighbors since I’m nosy.”

“When did they leave?” His voice is small, a slight worry behind it.

Kristyn lets out a breath, “about four hours ago, he made me promise not to tell you until he was gone.”

He just nods his head, a silent clock beginning to tick in his brain. —————

It’s been two weeks since he heard from Ben or Will.

The boys have been here day in and day out since they came home last year, always were before that and even more so now that all they truly had was each other and the families they were making with and around each other.

Benny ran through Kristyn’s apartment complex screaming her name so loud as he started to bang on her door that he was met with a baseball bat. Now that idiot was going to be his brother because the sight she was met with was one of Benjamin Miller on his knees with a ring in his hands.

They gave them space with the baby’s arrival, small and short visits until Leah felt ready to have them all over again. He spoke to them that morning as he shaved the night’s stubble away, they talked like they were coming by and how they couldn’t get enough of their new nephew. How they were getting him the best present.

Frankie runs his forefinger and thumb along his mustache now, the compromise of facial hair he settled on. He didn’t want his full and sparse beard but he also felt lighter at the way Leah laughed into him with every brush of his lips.

He’s pacing the living room, bouncing the baby as Leah and Luna nap upstairs. There's only silence and the soft gurgling of a newborn when the quiet knock comes.

Already close to the entryway, he closes the distance and whispers a silent prayer to himself. A prayer that this isn’t bad news. That this is Will or Benny, not using their keys out of courtesy to the newness of little life inside his home.

He opens the door and is met with the tired eyes of Santiago Garcia.

“Hey, Frank,” he says. All bravado of his being seeped from him and replaced with, what sounds like, apology.

He adjusts his son in his hold, ushering the shorter man in so the warmth of the house doesn’t keep seeping out, “I thought you were in Australia.”

“Yeah, well,” he turns to face Frankie again as the door closes, “I make some really shit decisions sometimes.”

Frankie scoffs, half a laugh hidden in the sound. He’s not wrong but he’s not exactly right either.

“Can I get you something to drink?” He’s walked through to the kitchen, the shorter man falling in pace beside him, “we’re a dry household right now with the baby and my therapy bu—“

“Nah, Fis-Frank,” he stutters, “just came to talk to you. And Leah. She around?”

“She’s resting but I can pass along a message if I like it.”

Santi reaches into the leather folder he always carries around and produces a booklet, the one from the lawyer in St. John’s.

But different, a different cover and date, a different name stamped across the front.

“The boys sent me to give you this alone, said we needed to talk about a few more things than just this. Said I needed to apologize to you and to your wife, that I owed you that for so much but especially roping you into that shit last year.”

“Water under the bridge,” Frankie replies softly, changing direction to move through to the living room, “I gave up on an apology a long time ago and Leah never expected one, but nobody’s mad at you.”

Frankie carries the bassinet into sight from the kitchen before walking back, “what is this, Pope?”

“It’s your cut, we went back.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re stupid and greedy and we fucked ourselves up getting it in the first place so we figured we’d go back and we figured we fucking owed you.”

Frankie squints at the shorter man, searching his eyes for the hint of a joke he’s not laughing at. There is none. His cold brown stare is dead serious.

“This is my apology to you, Fran—“

“Frankie,” Leah’s voice filters into the room, he can hear her sleepy shuffle as she pads across the carpet now, “did you feed Santiago while I was asleep or should I?”

“I fed him, baby,” he calls over his shoulder.

He looks back at the man who helped shape his life, tears welling in his eyes, and hears Leah talking about ordering Chinese for dinner as she crosses the threshold but he doesn’t hear her. He can’t hear anything over the squeeze around his midsection, Santi’s quiet strength taking all of his air and senses.

He lets go as quickly as he grabbed him, Leah’s presence heavy in the room now and he crosses the room to gather her in his arms, a kiss pressed to each cheek and then her hair. He’s careful not to hug as hard as he had Frankie, conscious of her still healing body.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers between them, “for everything I’ve done and everything I wasn’t around for.”

She’s trying to catch her breath, trying not to cry herself, “it's oka—“

“I should’ve been here for you guys.”

Her small hand comes up to pat the curls, a little more gray than a year ago, “you are now.”

He pulls away from her, a hitch in his voice as he says, “can I hold him?”

“Yeah,” she nods, “but you gotta wash your face and hands, no tears or snot on my baby.”

He mumbles to himself about how that makes sense as he moves to the sink, fumbling over the soap in the holder as he shakes with nerves.

She makes her way across the kitchen, wrapping her still sleepy being around that of her wide awake husband. The low lying winter sun is filtering through the windows, bathing everything in soft, warm light.

She sees the golden cover of the booklet on the counter and taps it, “what's this?”

Daylight Family Trust is stamped across in big bold words.

“That was the boy’s trip,” he whispers, “that’s our cut.”

He watches her as she slowly reaches for the document, the one that explains how this all works and looks between the men.

“How much?”

Santi rips a paper towel from the roll, “about thirty-five million.”

Frankie holds her as her knees start to give out but she’s still looking at Santi, she’s still looking for the joke he never made.

“Daylight's your call sign, you know,” he says cooly, “all the wives get one too, did he ever tell you?”

She shakes her head, looking at her husband now and thinking of all the times that very word fell from his lips.

“On our last real deployment,” Pope continues, “he was flying as the sun was setting and the sky was pure gold over the desert—“

Frankie’s eyes never leave hers, arms tight around her now.

“—he said it reminded him of the way the gold flakes in your eyes reflect the sunlight back at him, he called you Daylight until he got home and shed the callsigns altogether.”

“Frankie?”

He presses his lips into her forehead, his hand a heavy weight on her lower back that says, I’m right here.

“Your daughter has the same golden flakes in her eyes, like you, Daylight.”

Frankie runs his thumb along the swell of her cheek, "all I wanted to do last year was get home to you both, all I wanted was to make it right and see that reflection of light back at me through you both again.”

He leans down to softly press his lips to hers before nuzzling his nose into her hair, “our son has them too, the same gold in his eyes, it was the first thing I said to Ben when I walked out of the delivery room.”

"It was the first thing they said to me," Santiago says, "when they got off the plane." 

“Like me?” Her voice is soft, the heaviness of sleep still clinging to her limbs.

“Mmhmm,” Frankie hums, “like Daylight.”

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[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding IX

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

Part I - - - - - Part II - - - - - Part III - - - - - Part IV  - - - Part V - - - - - Part VI - - - - - Part VII - - - - - Part VIII

Content Warning: This chapter contains potentially triggering material, particularly aftermath of attempted suicide as well as discussions of bodily injury.

Cody woke up the morning after the...drunken keldabe still feeling uneasy. He spent half an hour attempting to read over reports in preparation for the Umbaran campaign before giving it up as a lost cause. He distracted himself for a little while by pouring over last night’s cantina surveillance, before giving up on that as well and sending a message to General Skywalker.

‘Any updates on General Kenobi’s status?’

He watched the comms as communications from everyone besides the General trickled in. He answered a few requests for requisitions, forwarded some medical reports, and ignored an irritating handful of overly-personal questions. 

Agonizing over it the whole time, he opened a comm-text link to Obi-Wan. It took nearly an hour, but he managed to send two sentences. ‘Hope you’re recovering well. Look forward to upcoming mission discussion.’

He immediately wanted to retroactively delete the message, mortified by every word and deeply concerned at every second that passed without a reply.

He spent the next 30 minutes hunched over, quickly closing every incoming CT and CC communication, justifying the time to himself as ‘technically on leave.’

He lurched forward when he finally received a General’s comm code, but slumped in disappointment when it was Skywalker, not Kenobi.

‘Not as drunk but still seems a little high. He says he wasn’t drugged. He’s taking the rest of the day off. I’m monitoring.’

Taking the rest of the day off. Did that mean he wasn’t carrying around his comm? Kriff. Should he more or less concerned that the general was actually taking a day off?

He decided to be more concerned.

‘Thank you for the update. Respectfully request information on any changes.’

Hopefully that would encourage Skywalker to keep him informed even if he stopped freaking out over his vod’s behavior.

Stowing the remote comm, he stood up and exited the temporary planet-side office, throwing himself into cleaning up the mess that was nearly 20,000 clone troopers simultaneously attempting to get the most out of a very brief R&R. 

Shortly before mid-day, he received another update from Skywalker.

‘Just managed to get him to medical. Healer cleared him of drug interactions but Obi-Wan’s still acting strange (not crying, but a lot of hugging).’

Cody stared at that for a long while.

‘Any other verbal indications of upcoming danger?’ he finally asked. Skywalker didn’t reply. 

Shortly after nightfall, his incident reports were interrupted by a call from an unknown temple number. He quickly opened it, and a holo of an unfamiliar Mon Calamari female healer appeared in miniature on the desk.

“Commander Cody. Thank you for answering so quickly. Are you somewhere private?” she asked, voice deliberately neutral.

The Commander tensed up. “Yes, sir. I’m in CC office space, alone. The room and the channel are both secure. Is this regarding General Kenobi?”

“Yes.” She replied. “My name is Master Bant Eerin; I’m a temple healer as well as a personal friend of Obi-Wan’s. He’s...he’s in the healing halls right now. We’re still trying to understand exactly what happened- I’ll tell you what I can but first we need to rule out any possible drugs he may have contact with. I need you to describe in detail anything he may have been exposed to that could have possibly had mind-altering effects.”

The Commander was a professional. He swallowed back his fear, his questions, and his demands to know what was going on.

“Of course. Everything on the Negotiator was GAR Standard, and I was with him when we left the ship. We went directly to the lower levels. The first time he was exposed to anyone outside the 212th was when we left our transport on level 3915. I...actually have footage of him the whole time night after that point. I’m sending it over right now, sir.”

“That would be extremely helpful, thank you.” He watched as she pulled it up on a second comm, sound barely audible. 

He continued with his report: “One of the boys took it without permission. He didn’t mean anything by it, he’s just an idiot; I’ve already issued a severe reprimand. In any case, he brought it to me after I issued surveillance on the cantina, it tracks everything the General did- as far as I can tell, he had a glass of house grub wine, two shots of rancor blood, and an unnamed mixed cocktail ‘on the house.’ You can see everything the bartender added- as far as I can tell nothing was slipped in. He just... blacked out suddenly after the fourth drink, and quickly startled awake, confused by his surroundings.”

“I see.” Her tone was still carefully neutral and Cody didn’t know how to read her expression. He waited, wishing he was wearing his bucket so he didn’t have to keep schooling his face into professional patience.

“You brought him back to the temple...correct?” 

“Yes, sir.”

She let out a deep breath, gills fluttering slightly. “We’ll probably have more questions later, but please understand our inquires are entirely based around determining how we can best help Obi-Wan. This call and any future ones are not intended, and should absolutely not be interpreted, as indications of blame. He’s actually spoken to me about you before, I know he has the deepest respect for you, personally and professionally. Someone will likely be assigned to talk to everyone whose spent time with him recently, including myself.”

The sick feeling in his gut from last night returned full force. “I...believe I understand sir. His condition is serious, then?”

Her gills fluttered again.

“Even now, I think we can safely anticipate a full physical recovery. He...there’s no easy way to say this...it appears he attempted to end his own life. Knight Skywalker got to him just in time, and he received bacta within minutes of the initial burn. I...like I said...we’ll began work to figure out why-”

Her voice broke and she stared up, large tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. She hastily wiped them away.

“Rest assured commander, he’s getting the best treatment possible. Thank you for your assistance. I’ll do my best to answer any questions you might have right now. This is my personal comm link- please feel free to reach out to me at any point for updates.”

“I-” Cody cleared his throat. “Can I come to the temple? To...” he trailed off, not sure how to finish.

“Not tonight, I’m sorry. The healers need to focus; he’s not allowed any visitors until he’s out of Bacta, I’m afraid.”

“Skywalker must be throwing a fit at that” Cody remarked numbly.

The healer winced. “Knight Skywalker is currently sedated. He was...injured in the struggle to keep Obi-Wan from further harm. Master Windu witnessed part of it, but we’ll have to wait until its safe to wake him to get the full story. I’ll be notifying Captain Rex of the situation after we finish speaking.”

“I’ll do it.” Cody offered immediately. “Tell me what happened.”

Eerin hesitated. 

“Please, Sir. It will be better coming from me and...if he’s the only other trooper who’s being informed at the moment...”

“Of course,” she said quietly. “We don’t know the full circumstances, but at some point in performing emergency care for Master Kenobi, Knight Skywalker was stabbed in the lower abdomen with a vibroblade. It pierced his large intestine. The blade was pulled out shortly before healers arrived, causing some further damage and blood loss. He’s already finished surgery, and should only need a few hours of Bacta at most. Considering his extraordinary past recovery rates, he’ll likely be out of bed tomorrow and fully healed by the end of the week.”

“General Kenobi wouldn’t...” Cody trailed off again. He was having a hard time putting coherent sentences together.

Bant looked at the ceiling for a moment, seeming to collect her thoughts.

“Psychosis can have many manifestations. Even with- with conventional injuries, people can mistake help for harm. There’s just too much we don’t understand, and only so much we can learn before they wake up. Are you certain you wish to be the one to inform Captain Rex?”

“Yes.” That was about the only thing the Commander was certain of right now. “Is there anyone else in the GAR I should inform of...anything?”

“The military aspect of this isn’t my area of expertise. If there’s someone you trust who can be a support for you, I don’t see why you shouldn’t be able to tell them in confidence. Some form of what happened is going to get out eventually.” she replied. “Please use your discretion, I suppose. It’s...not really my speciality but I imagine you’ll receive further orders on how much to release to the GAR once Obi-Wan’s stable.”

Right. Discretion. Because Obi-Wan wasn’t just Obi-Wan- he was a high general in charge of nearly 1/3 of the republic’s forces. If word of this got out to the wrong ears it would cause mass panic, maybe even an emboldened separatist advance. It was an insane amount of responsibility for one person, no wonder - he deliberately didn’t finish the thought.

“I’ll comm the Captain immediately. Thank you for the information, General.” he said out loud.

“Feel free to contact me for further updates, and tell Captain Rex he’s welcome to do the same. I’ll message you when its clear to visit the halls.”

“Yes, Sir.” Cody responded, saluting automatically. 

“Take care of yourself, Commander Cody”

The hologram blinked out. Cody sat motionless for several long moment before sweeping his desk off, sending the assorted flimsies and redundant comm-units of various designations to the ground.

He stared at the empty desk, then tapped a button on his wrist comm, opening a private audio channel. “CT-7567, please come in” he said calmly.

“Cody?” came the alarmed reply. “I’m here, what’s going on?” Why did he sound so panicked? He had deliberately used his calmest voice. Oh well.

“Please report immediately to CC Office 12 in Guard Headquarters”

“I’ll be there in 10″

Cody hung up. He stared at the blank wall. He knew something was wrong with how the General said goodbye.

He opened the single desk drawer and dumped the odd wires and coins inside to the floor. Eerin had said burn. That could mean a lot of things, but lightsaber was the most likely. 

Cody puked profusely into the empty drawer. He stared at the vomit for a moment before carefully closing the drawer. He still felt a little sick. He hadn’t even said anything back to the General, he just stood there, frozen. 

He stared vaguely at the wall across, wondering if he was going to puke again.

Rex burst into the room. “Cody! What’s going on?! You- kark, what is that smell?”

“I puked in the desk drawer” Cody explained.

Rex shut the door behind him and slowly walked over. He knelt down next to the desk, gently taking Cody’s hands in this own. “Cody. Vod. Talk to to me.” 

“Obi-Wan tried to kill himself.”

Rex’s hands tightened over Cody’s compulsively and Cody squeezed back harder. He closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at Rex’s expression.

“Some of ghost company went out for drinks last night. Obi-Wan started acted oddly. We flew towards the temple. He started crying. We got to the temple. He Keldabe kissed me. He told me goodbye. I didn’t say anything back.”

“Oh, vod” Rex whispered. He gently pulled the slack Cody off the chair and onto his lap on the floor. Cody continued mechanically. “I did reports today. Skywalker said he was with him. I left Obi-Wan a message. I don’t think he saw it. He tried to kill himself. Skywalker must have left him alone. He saved him. Obi-Wan stabbed Skywalker.”

Rex froze, still holding on to Cody. 

“The healer called. Asked about drugs. They don’t think its drugs but they had to ask. She said they’re both going to heal completely fine. I have a link if you want to call the healer directly. That’s...it. I have reports to do now.”

Rex held Cody tighter. “Not right now”

“It’s war. People get hurt. People die. I have work to do”

“Not right now,” Rex repeated. “You have the right to be upset. You have the right to grieve. You’re a person, of course you have feelings.”

“Obi-Wan said that.” Cody whispered. Then he started crying. He continued to quietly sob for some time, hurt and bewildered and scared. They sat on the floor together; Rex barely moved, simply held on to his older brother as he fell apart.

Inevitably, Cody’s tears dried up and he pulled away. 

“I don’t know how to clean this,” he said gesturing at that closed drawer. 

“I’ll take care of it. Let’s just get you to bed. There’s CC bunks here, right? 

“Yes but...”

Cody didn’t really like sleeping so isolated, but he also couldn’t imagine facing the 212th right now. 

“I’ll stay here with you. We’ll go to the temple together in the morning.”

Rex shepherded Cody to the fresher. He stared at the mirror with a vague sense of recognition before automatically moving through a standard sanitation routine. By the time he finished, Rex had joined him in his room.

“What did you do with the vomit?” Cody asked, suddenly exhausted. They slipped into bed together.

“Swapped the whole desk with Pond’s. That bastard knows what he did.”

Cody let out a snort. Then, much to his surprise, he sank heavily into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Part X

[theluckiestlb]

✏️”Your dad is going to jail for a long time after all of this.”

“Oh, jail isn’t the worst thing to happen to him. Chloe went and reamed him out and I really wish I had some popcorn and the surveillance video of that.”

“Oh come on—again!?”

Adrien dramatically flopped back onto the couch as TV declared Marinette’s victory on repeat.

“Finally done?” Alya called from across the room as she lounged on the bed with a magazine in hand, “Give it up, already—you guys have been at it for like fifteen rounds. You’ll never beat the queen of Ultimate Mecha Strike III.”

“But great effort boys,” Marinette giggled, poking Adrien as he wallowed in self-pity. Nino tossed his controller aside, sighing in defeat.

“Alright, I fold.”

“What!?” Adrien rose from the dead, aghast at his friend’s betrayal, “Seriously?”

“Alya’s right—you gotta take the L, my dude,” Nino replied with a head shake, pulling out his phone to scroll through the missed notifications.

Pouting, Adrien leaned back and rested his head on Marinette’s lap. She gently ran her fingers through his golden hair in admiration. It was a true sight to behold—almost as if his features had been carved by the most gifted Renaissance sculptor. 

It was hard to dismiss the blossoming feelings of inadequacy in the presence of a literal model. Adrien never made her feel lesser in any capacity—though his affection for someone so average never ceased to confound her. The status of their…friendship...was even more mystifying. Neither had managed to address the matter since their identities were revealed. Despite their perpetual limbo, Adrien sought comfort from her and freely indulged in physical intimacy.

“Well, it looks like your dad is going to jail for a long time after this.”

Dead silence swept the room as Nino looked up from the press release. Everyone had actively avoided any mention of Gabriel since the arrest. It was an unspoken taboo—agreed upon to shield Adrien’s mental wellbeing. The invisible elephant had loomed over the group and seemingly doubled in size with each passing day.

“It’s not the worst thing that happened to him this month, ” Adrien said eventually, allowing everyone to collectively relax, “He had a run-in with Chloé a few days ago. Heard it was quite the spectacle.”

“Wait, really?” Marinette blinked down at him.

A grin stretched across Nino’s face, “Damn, I would pay good money to get a copy of that surveillance video.”

“You’ll have to keep it. He only meets the lawyers at night in random locations to avoid the paparazzi,” Adrien replied flatly.

“Actually—” Alya strolled over to the group, phone in hand, “It looks like someone caught the whole thing and uploaded it online.”

Adrien sat up while the others gawked in disbelief. Their expressions slowly morphed into glee as Alya connected her phone to the television. She scrolled through YouTube and tapped on the most clickbait-y video, Hawkmoth gets absolutely REAMED.

“Is that him? I think it’s him,” a voice whispers off camera as they shakily zoom in. One of two bodyguards holds a glass door open as Gabriel walks out with a disgruntled expression.

“Dude, are you sure?”

After an inaudible reply, the camera moves through a few vehicles to get closer.

“When will people stop filming vertically?” Nino quietly muttered in disapproval.

A black car suddenly pulls into view. The chauffeur quickly steps out to greet Gabriel, holding the rear passenger door open.

“Mr. Agreste!”

Gabriel stops and turns as Chloé marches towards him.

“Ms. Bourgeois. What a pleasure,” he replies, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Pleasure!? Are you serious!? How DARE you—” the remainder of Chloé’s sentence is drowned out by honking across the street. She invades Gabriel’s personal space uninterrupted, aggressively pointing a finger at his face. Disdain chips away at his composure, twisting his face into a scowl.

“The bodyguards aren’t stopping her,” Marinette observed with amusement.

“Well, Jacques and Henri were akumatized—I think he forgot though,” Adrien shrugged, “A little surprising, since most of the employees were.”

“Limited pool of options, I bet. Nobody with a single working brain cell would beg that psychopath for a job,” Nino added, crossing his arms.

“Sociopath is probably a more accurate descriptor,” Marinette speculated, eyes glued to the scene unfolding.

“There’s a difference?”

“The diagnosis is still up for debate.” Adrien interjected, subtly bringing the uncomfortable subject to a close.

“Didn’t Gabriel akumatize Jacques’ kids?” Alya piped in, eyeing the group, “One of them is in Ella and Etta’s class.”

“Sandboy?”

“No—no the other one.”

“Ah yes,” Nino grinned, folding his arms behind his head, “Rat Boy.”

“Rat King.” Adrien corrected with a smirk.

“Rat King?” Marinette and Alya asked in unison, exchanging looks.

“We fought him like six months ago,” Adrien clarified, glancing at Marinette, “Remember? Thousands of rats came out of the sewers that night.”

Alya smacked her forehead, “Christ—I remember that now. They crawled out of the drain in the middle of my shower,” she shivered in disgust, “God, why did Gabriel have to akumatize so many kids?”

People gather to watch as Chloé’s rant grows louder. Gabriel’s attempts to shut her down triggers a wave of rage. She starts shoving him, yelling even louder than before. Bystanders cheer as she repeatedly smacks him with her clutch.

“She’s really laying it on him.” Nino whistled.

A guy suddenly runs up from behind and dumps a bag of flour on Gabriel’s head. The scene erupts into a frenzy. Someone off camera starts pelting the car with eggs—one smacks Gabriel in the chest. 

“—you WORTHLESS excuse for a father!”

Chloé proceeds to kick him in the shin and he shouts a series of angry expletives. One bodyguard begrudgingly steps in and pulls her aside while the other roughly ushers Gabriel into the backseat. The rowdy crowd boos with disappointment as the vehicle promptly speeds out of sight. The video cuts off.

After a few beats of silence, Nino heartedly clapped. The others snickered at his shameless amusement.

“Well...that was...something.” Marinette conceded, leaning back onto the couch, “Actually, good for her.”

Nino slapped his knee, pointing at the rest with a serious look, “I’m buying her a fruit basket.”

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