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luveline · 9 months ago

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Hii I sent the ask for more kbd could you please write them all going on there first family holiday lovely 🤍🫶🏻

love u <3 kbd au —the harrington’s vacation !! mom!reader, 1.5k

This is a good idea, you repeat to each other for weeks. Paying for the flights, making lists, getting Dove her baby passport, packing the suitcases days in advance.

Most of the time you agree with one another. The day you buy Avery and Beth little swimsuits Steve can’t stop smiling, and the nights leading up to it are like Christmas for Avery when she remembers (and Beth when Avery tells her).

But the night before you’re sick to your stomach, and then Steve can’t breathe right at the airport, but you get on your plane, and somehow the girls are good. Dove cries when you land because of the pressure change, but she’s soothed by the time you’re past the gate and into the sunshine.

“Steve,” you say, Dove strapped to your chest, world's heaviest baby bag on your shoulder, “sweetheart, we’re here.”

He holds Beth’s hand, who in turn holds Avery’s hand, trying to pull the world’s biggest suitcase behind you without running over his own foot. “I told you it would be easy.”

Your children look beautiful. Avery wears a sun visor cap and a blue dress with white socks and blue converse, and Bethie wears dungarees and a short sleeve top, little black converse to match her sister but unable to handle the sensory nightmare of a hat. They look ready for the sun, and excited to be somewhere new.

Dove sleeps on your chest. “Easy isn’t the word I’d use,” you mumble, kissing her forehead. “Okay, what’s the next thing? Are we getting the shuttle?”

Steve checks his watch quickly. “It’s another ten minutes,” he says. “Is that okay?” He points at your harness. “Digging into your side?”

“It’s fine.” You bend with your arm behind Dove’s back, turning your smile on your sweethearts where they mill around their dad’s legs. “How do you guys feel now? So happy? I’m so happy we’re not on the plane, we can stretch our tired feet!”

“Yeah, mom!” Avery says.

“Can we have soda?” Bethie asks.

And okay, you promised them treats if they behaved on the plane, but you’re on vacation. It’s allowed.

“Yeah, baby, let’s go find you a coca cola before we get on the big bus!”

You don’t want to pay seventy cents for one can of coke, let alone three dollars for three, but everything will be free when you get to the resort, so what does it matter? Plus, Bethie really, really enjoys it. She beams at the fizzing and begs you to try it like she’s worried you’re missing out.

(It matters. You and Steve are raising three kids on one salary. All inclusive vacations are expensive. They all needed new clothes including you and Steve, clothes and haircuts and mini shampoos. But it genuinely won’t matter if they have a good time, and make good memories.)

“Right,” you say near the shuttle, “Avery, you hold mommy’s hand when we’re outside. Beth, you’ll hold daddy’s. No running, and try to be polite. Deal?”

Avery twines her fingers through yours, little tiny fingers to your fully grown ones. When she looks up at you, she’s practically a hundred percent Steve, his smile, his lovely demeanour, and his attitude too. “Duh, mom. That’s an easy deal.”

Steve ends up carrying Beth onto the shuttle, and off of it again at the resort. She’s in his arms from the lobby to the elevators and into your suite, but she wants promptly to be put down when Steve shows your two girls their room.

“Mom, there’s bears!” She gasps. “It’s Goldilocks!”

A huge storybook mural covers their walls and parts of their ceilings, their single beds outfitted with gossamer curtains on four posters and princess pink sheets. “There’s a castle!” Avery shouts.

“You okay?” Steve asks again.

You’re a little tired from Dove's restlessness the night before, but you’re happy you’re here. You nod without thinking twice about it.

“Okay.” He pulls you toward him. Careful, he unsnaps the buckles of Dove’s harness, loosening the cords that keep her tight to your body before pulling her out. She grizzles at being moved, and he pats her back deftly to settle her before it becomes a big cry. Then he’s cradling her one handed, loosening the straps of the carrier behind your back and taking it off of you with a kindness that softens you for the thousandth time. “There, that’s better. You look like you can breathe again.”

Steve puts his hand flat on your chest and rubs a line with his thumb. “That’s a nice smile,” he adds.

Okay, you think. Goner, total goner, you cover his hand with yours. From the girls’ bedroom you can hear the squeal of bed springs being jumped on and the zipper on someone’s mini backpack. “Can we have fruit snacks?” Avery shouts.

Steve’s hand moves to your neck, your face. He rubs your jawline with the tip of his thumb. “Do they have fruit snacks at the buffet?”

“They promised they’d have everything at the buffet.”

You sound exuberant. You are. It’s nice to be touched sweetly, and to be somewhere cool. This is the life you’d dreamed of making with him, and at the same time, you never could’ve summoned this image of him.

You can’t wait for him to take his shirt off by the pool. You’re gonna take a whole disposable’s worth of photos.

“You have nice arms,” you say, feigning absentmindedness.

“Thank you.” He’s looking at you funny. It reminds you of when you first started dating, he’d get these weird moments of smiling and not telling you what it is that’s so funny, which would always inspire insecurity, but has since been explained to be awe rather than disdain. He pulls Dove closer to his neck and more toward his side, offering his empty arm to you for a hug. “You have nice everything,” he says, kissing you quickly on the temple.

“We’re actually on vacation.”

It always seemed too daunting. The more kids you had, the scarier it seemed. But one day Avery must’ve seen a commercial on TV or heard it from one of the little girls at the park, and she’d strolled up to you to ask you about vacations and the beach and aeroplanes. You’d taken her and Beth to Lake Michigan a bunch of times, but nothing feels quite like this.

“Let’s hope it really feels like one,” Steve says.

“Especially for you,” you say.

Stay at home dad-ing is exhausting. You can’t imagine he wants to be the one in charge here too. You’re determined to pull your weight, even if he isn’t keen to let you, plans for secret lie-ins and well-researched playtime clubs at the resorts recreation centres. You’re not delusional, you know you can’t do this without him. Or perhaps you could, but you’d enjoy yourself a lot less. Either way, you’re wanting to have fun too, so he can take Dove from you and wrap his arm around you like he’s the one in charge for now. It feels nice to be doted on, better when he starts his fretting.

“Do you want to get changed before we take them down for dinner?” He backs away enough to see your face but not too much as to steal the warmth of his chest where it kisses your arm. “Showers? You need something to drink. Where’s the mini fridge?”

“Remember what we talked about?” you broach carefully. You have no intentions of patronising him, but it’s unfortunate he’s forgotten already. “Relax, honey. That’s what we said we were gonna do this week. You don’t have to make sure everyone is one hundred percent all the time. If I need something, I’ll tell you.”

“What sort of marriage do you think this is?” he asks, smiling playfully, his warm eyes betraying how happy he is even through his worry and facade.

“One where you kiss me like you miss me all the time,” you say.

“Oh, is that so?” He ducks down and aligns your lips, the corded muscle of his arm lean where it presses to your softer back. “What do you do?”

“Kiss back.”

He laughs into your lips, a smile pressed firmly to a smile.

“Daddy, can you help me ‘i my shoes?” Bethie asks.

Steve breathes in deep as you part, hugging you tight to his side. “Where are you gonna go without shoes?” he asks her, genuinely curious.

“To bed.”

“You want a nap?”

Bethie nods tiredly. “Planes are hard.”

“Yeah, bub, planes are tough. You don’t wanna go have dinner first?”

She shakes her head tiredly. It’s the first hurdle of your vacation, but it’s not a terribly hard one to navigate.

“There’s gotta be some sort of snack in the fridge, right?” he asks.

Family nap time commences just as soon as Avery’s eaten her fill of mini sandwiches. You sleep like a baby under Steve’s arm, at least until the real baby rouses for another bottle.

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vase-of-lilies · 2 years ago

Text

Efforts to Make Amends

❀ Tfatws!Bucky x Mom!reader (f)

❀ Non-con and rape (DO NOT READ IF YOU DO NOT LIKE IT), past abuse, past parental abuse, mentions of captivity, fluff, childbirth, some suicidal ideation (but no actions), taking of virginity, some after sex bleeding, talking badly about a baby, pregnancy, dad bucky 🥺 (if there is anything else, PLEASE let me know!)

❀ Word Count: 6.3k

❀ A/N: This came to mind when I was just thinking about Buck:) I don’t know if this is already a concept, but if it is here is my take on it! :D

The cry of the newborn baby sent shivers down your spine. Not a scared shiver, or a nervous shiver. Just a shiver. You are her mother now, and you can not let this baby down. You won’t let this baby down. As the nurse gently handed the bundle of joy over to you in a pink blanket, you laid eyes on the most beautiful little thing in the world. With her eyes barely open to see, her blue eyes stared back into your own.

Tears filled your eyes as you held her to your chest, her babbles slowly dying down to soft breaths. You smiled down at the tiny human in your arms, clutching onto your finger softly. You heard the heart monitor go off, and you immediately held your daughter tighter in your arms. Not wanting to let her go, not for one second. Your OB/GYN entered the room, smiling brightly with the paperwork of your brand new baby.

“All is well with your little girl. I’ll let you decide on a name and we can fill out this boring stuff.” She chuckles and sits next to you on the bed.

“Oh, I really like this one.” She hums softly at the baby names in question. She points to the fourth one on the list that you made on a piece of paper. “Clarisse” is the name she chose. It was your mother's name. Bright, shining, gentle, and brave. She was your advocate through the years you were held captive by your own father.

Of course the circumstances of how this child came into this world is not how you imagined it, you are still eternally grateful to have her in your life.

It was at this moment you knew all too well what you had to do. You had to start brand new; New name, address, hair color. Everything you can to stay away from the life you were forced into as a child. Going by the name Carla, you set off out of the police station with your new ID, and a new life ahead of you. You couldn’t hold back the smile that had formed on your face by the time you made it to the bus stop.

Paying the bus driver, you sat down on the bench by the window. Carefully holding your newborn baby to your chest, you stare out the window at the passing cars, buildings, and people. All making their way home from work or even to work. Even the people who call themselves “superheroes” have a home to go to, don’t they? No matter where you go, you know you have to provide what's best for this baby. The police were some help, getting you your ID, colored contacts as well as a wig and a new passport. But it was a long, aggravating process. With every woman looking at your baby with prying eyes, getting ready to let their lips loose in the daily office gossip session.

Finally, it was time to leave. It was time to leave the life you were previously living, and set off on a new adventure with a new companion.

~~~~~~~

Arriving at the airport, you follow the directions to buy a ticket to Spain. With what little Spanish you knew was not the problem at this point. It was getting away from a crime populated city such as New York. The culture, the people, and the ocean around the country felt like the safest option.

“ID, ma’am.” You heard the woman at the desk say. Pulling out your ID, you make sure it is your new one. This has a special hidden key trustworthy people can scan that tells them you are a witness in protection. They are very caring with you, and question nothing if you hesitate with your new name. “Carla Davenport. Date of birth November eighteenth.” Fuck! What's the year?? “Year?” The woman asks. “U-uhm, 2001...” You almost say it as a question, but the woman smiles and hands you back your ID.

“Enjoy Spain!” She says from the desk, and onto security you go.

~~~~~~~

The plane ride was long, and agonizing with how anxious you were. But Clarisse easily soothed your nerves. The looks people gave you were noticeable, and the last few people to board on the plane seemed reluctant to sit next to you. A newborn on a plane is someone's worst nightmare. But Clarisse was a sleepy girl, and slept a majority of the flight. The moments she did start to cry, you knew she either had to be changed, or was hungry. Once you went to the bathroom, you sat on the toilet and began to breastfeed your little girl.

The mirror that was across from you, a woman you barely recognized stared back. False black-dyed locks fell around an exhausted, hurt, and abused mother. There wasn’t much that stared back. You peeled your eyes away from the mirror, and pinned them back on your little girl. Clarisse was enjoying her milk, and was soon going to fall into a milk coma. You just knew it.

Sighing as you sit back down, you look back out the window. The night sky was absolutely beautiful at this time, and you loved what it looked like. Even though Clarisse was asleep, you still pointed out the lights along the coast that shaped the continent of Africa, and soon to the lights that covered Madrid. Your new home town.

As the plane landed, you stopped at the gift shop to get a Spanish-to-English dictionary to start learning. Also stopping at a small convenience store in the airport, you exchanged all of your US dollars to Euros and bought some diapers and a diaper bag as well. It was the small things that the program didn’t provide that seemed to be the biggest issues for you. But you were grateful for the small apartment they found, and even more grateful that they provided rent for the first year of living there.

Getting a job will be difficult, but you knew that you would figure it out somehow. With how populated the world is, there is bound to be an English speaking job for you out there. But that was the least of your worries right now. What you needed the most was food, sleep, and a warm blanket for you and Clarisse. All that you needed for a couple nights was already at the apartment, and you were eternally grateful.

Finally getting to the small one bedroom apartment, you immediately lock the door behind you, and set off to the small bedroom. There is a mattress on the floor as well as a few blankets and a pillow, but other than that nothing much else. It was simple, and you liked it. Just for you and your little girl. You smiled as you saw the view out the window. The beautiful city lights shone through the fire escape balcony, giving a soft glow in the bedroom. It felt safe.

Getting out a diaper and some wipes, you begin to change Clarisse. “I know sweet girl, it’s been a long day.” You whisper, giving soft kisses to her face as she babbles into the open air. “Are you gonna sleep well tonight? Hm? Or are you gonna keep me up?” You chuckle at the small girl in front of you, and you softly tickle her sides. Her incoherent giggles are music to your ears, and it is nothing like you have ever heard before. “You are so beautiful my little flower.” You smile, nuzzling your nose against hers softly.

After getting Clarisse all settled, you decided to move the mattress just under the window to get the perfect view of the night sky. You lay your head on the pillow, a feeling you haven’t felt in a very long time. Your little girl snuggled right up next to you, and stared up at the sky as well. You knew she would grow up to be the best little girl there is, and there is no doubt about that.

~~~~~~~

Sweat covered your forehead as you ran through the cold Russian woods. Barely escaping the Hydra base with your ankles not broken. You kept running until you knew you were far enough away to take a breath. But oh... were you wrong. The Winter Soldier was right behind you, every step of the way. It almost felt like he was in the trees, stalking your every move just like your father had conditioned him to.

The man was silent as he looked for you, but the silence screamed death. You were terrified, and rightfully so. Even trying to hold your breath so no one could see it, including you, was one of the only options to stay hidden. Besides trying to hide within the trees, and snow on the ground. It was hopeless. You could already hear the crunching of the snow underneath the heavy combat boots of the Winter Soldier coming your way.

This was it, you were going to die. You never knew why your father kept you in the base, but he would not be disappointed to hear that you were gone for good. Maybe it was for the best. No one would have to worry about keeping you silent, or contained. With the secrets you know, you could uncover the world's most dangerous criminals, documents, and codes to plenty of nuclear energy. But you swore to your mother you would never tell a soul. She loved her husband and her daughter equally, but her caring nature made her keep the world she lived in safe.

You were in your thoughts for too long. ‘Fuck-’ you suck in a breath, not moving an inch as you feel the cold blade barely cut into your neck. “Please...” you couldn’t believe you were begging for mercy, but you were strong. You had to stay alive; for your mother. “Cooperate and I won’t kill you...” the soldier said in a dark voice. You didn’t understand why he wasn’t going to kill you.

Instead of questioning him, you gave a small nod. “Good girl.” He whispered in your ear, sending chills down your spine. Soon the cold spread from your arms all the way down to your most intimate parts. He had sliced away at your thin hospital-like gown, and stripped you bare. You couldn’t do anything with a knife to your neck so you stayed still. “Please d-don’t, I-I’ll go back wi-with you, just p-please!” You quietly beg him, but he has already stripped himself of his own tactical pants.

He ignored your pleas, commanding you “Be a good girl and lay on your back...” A whimper left your throat and you froze. “N-no.” You stated, calmly. Instant regret filled your veins as he swiped his foot underneath yours and you fell to the ground. Your head hit a root sticking out from the ground and your vision was rendered blurry. “P-please...” Your attempt of a small plea exited your mouth, but you gave up.

His veiny, god-like sculpted cock filled your cunt to the brim. You tried to scream, but nothing would come out. He started to thrust, and thrust, and thrust. It felt like it never ended. His blue eyes stared into your dull y/e/c eyes with no emotion or mercy. He was told to do this to you, and it traumatized you. With no luck, you tried to push him away but he was quick to pin your hands above your head with his strong arms. One metal, one flesh.

“It's ok... just take it...” Was he trying to comfort you?

“I- I can’t...”

“You will.” That was the very last thing before you were left in darkness, unconscious and barely alive.

~~~~~~~

Clarisse lets out a small cry, waking you up instantly. “Hey sweet pea, shh shh mommas got you.” You whisper to her, gently rocking her in your arms. You didn’t know what time it was, but you knew for sure you only slept a wink. You stayed up the rest of the night, helping her to sleep, feeding her every now and then, and getting only some sleep yourself. You were more than happy to stay awake for her, and that was a sacrifice you were willing to take.

Once the sun started to come up, you yawned and decided to see what snacks you had brought from the airport. Some ChexMix and an apple was enough until you gathered enough courage to go grocery shopping. It had to be about 9:00 once Clarisse started to wake up. Swaying her as she drank from your breast, you hummed her a soft song and smiled from above her. As she drank, you began to grab what money you had, Charisse's baby bag and a face mask just in case someone did end up recognizing you. It would be lethal to have anyone from Hydra even know you exist.

~~~~~~~

Bucky POV:

Of course I regret everything. I have to live with what I have done every day of my life, and deep down I know that I can’t blame myself for my actions. It’s not something to get used to. Some would say that I have gotten used to hearing the last breath come from someone's gurgling throat. Some would say that “he likes to watch them die.” But in truth, nothing is worse than seeing someone's life drain from their eyes just like a painting being washed away; the paint clinging to life to stay on the canvas but the water just too damn strong.

A victim I remember very clearly, said whilst looking through the barrel of my gun “Fools make romance of death, for it is brutal and cruel. That I say be at peace with my passing is not such a thing. But once it is done, I will be safe and sound once more. I will live as long as I can, be with you as many days as we are sent, then keep me in your memories. I will see you again. That is a promise.” He was right, I would see him again. Not in heaven, or hell where I belong. But in my nightmares every single night. Therapy can only do so much for a broken, lost and helpless soldier. Let alone a 106 year old one.

However, I was slowly making amends with the people who were fortunately left alive. Yori Nakasima, the sweet old man I have lunch with every Tuesday is just an example. He was not a victim, but his son was. He was caught at the wrong place at the wrong time, and in turn he fell straight to the line of fire. My line of fire. No matter how much I try, I can never expel the begging that came from his mouth. He was innocent and had absolutely nothing to do with that mission. Simply… a loose knot that had to be tied tight. Yori and I went our own ways, and it makes me happy to see him still go to the same restaurant every Tuesday. He may not remember our conversation, but rest assured he can sleep knowing what happened to his son.

One more name.

One more name and I can throw this damned book away.

Y/n Y/L/n.

Y/n has been on this list for four to eight months now. Her name staring back at me with anger and regret. God why did her own father make me do this? Thoughts were racing through my head as I searched for Y/n, but nothing came up besides death certificates. She can’t be dead. She has to be alive, I know that she got out of there alive… Going deep into police, military and FBI/CIA records, along with the witness protection program as a sergeant, I was able to find someone by the name of Carla Davenport. I obviously knew this was wrong, and I was mostly doing this for myself. But there was one part of me that wanted to tell her that she is safe, and that she could finally rest with her guard down.

Doing further research, I finally came across an address. I lucked out by being in Madrid at the time with Zemo and Sam while I did my research. All I had left was to confront her and tell her my intentions. Knowing Y/n, she would be feisty, careful but most likely fearless. I know her, and she would fight with every last cell of energy in her body to win. I slightly jump as I hear my phone buzz and I answer Sam.

“Hey Sam.” I said, jotting down Y/n’s new address. I heard a sigh on the other line, and I knew I was in for something.

“I got a call from a CIA agent who found a breach in the witness protection program. Was that you?” Sam replies.

“Uh, why would you think it would be me? I have no reason to be on that site in the first place.” Seriously? What kind of answer was that?? “Dr. Raynor told me you needed to find some people… Buck come on man, we could have done this together.”

“Whatever happened to patient privacy? I found what I needed, so can I log out and be on my way?”

“Listen, I know you’re hurting. Especially over Y/n. I'll help you find her, but can we please do it the legal way?” He sounded convincing enough that he actually wanted to help, but I knew that it was just a ploy. Or, maybe that was my irrational thoughts talking for me.

“I’ve gotta do this on my own. She is the last one before I can finally go out and live how I want to. She will determine if I deserve to be free.” There was silence for a short period of time, and then another soft sigh from the man on the other line.

“Alright, fine. But if I get one more phone call telling me you did something illegal, you’re kicked off my team for charades, and you are going to talk with Dr. Raynor. Do you understand?”

I chuckled at his threat, and I nodded to myself. “Yeah, Sam. I understand. I wouldn’t want to bother Captain America with calls from random CIA agents about the site of witnesses in protection. This is honestly something Raynor should have let me do. She was the one who told me to “use your resources'' where there was nothing else to use. Anyway, I have to go. I'll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow Buck. Have a good night.”

Hanging up the phone, I sigh and I finish writing down the information from the website. Now that I knew where she lived, it would then be the hard part of everything. Telling her what I did, and apologizing for it.

~~~~~~~

Your POV:

It had now been three full weeks of living in Madrid and you were living your best life! You had a desk job dealing with English complaints for a website that was fully in Spanish, and your little girl could be with you all day long. Being able to earn a stable living was nice in such a large and new country. Also with your new way of life, you were not living off of ramen and buttered toast. You were able to make full meals with fresh ingredients from the finest vendors just down the street from your apartment. Steamed vegetables, freshly cooked meat that only needed a little bit of heating in the oven and your own seasonings and finally the glorious, melt-in-your-mouth Churros con Chocolate was what you were blessed with for dessert. It was heaven, and you were living in it with such happiness.

Clarisse is now one month old, and has been a little more aware of what she can do with her body. Even at this young age, she knows who you are and who you are to her. Soon she’ll be running around on two healthy legs with energy skyrocketing every second. Watching her grow up is the highlight of your life, and you never wanted it to end. Her eyes would scan each room you went through, each aisle you walked down, and even grabbed up at you from your arms as you made your way down to the baby section. Clothes, shoes, food. Clothes, shoes, food. All you needed was those three things, and you would be on your way.

It was a relief that you had not encountered a challenge by anyone. Not when little Clarisse cried for a little bit, and not even when the panic set in at the sound of the bustling cars outside the store. It was a success, and you could not wait to get home. Checking out with ease, you held Clarisse close to you as you took your groceries in the small basket on the back of your bike, and strapped the little girl into her car seat carrier on the front of your bike. “All safe and sound, my sweet girl,” You whisper, gently putting her blanket over her. On the way back to your apartment, you followed the same route to and from. Two lefts, a right, up the hill and to the left. It was almost a song you replayed over and over in your head, just to help you get home. Just like your mother taught you;

Down the hall and to the left, a little bit longer, up the stairs and in my arms you go! This song was to navigate the hallways of the large house your father had bought your family before he decided to keep you as his own lab rat.

Once you made it into the safe walls of your home, the lock was the first thing in place after putting your bike inside. Clarrise still strapped in her seat, you rolled the bike to the far wall of your kitchen. The babbling baby in her carrier made you smile as she reached out to you, her feet kicking in excitement as she made eye contact.

Holding your little girl felt so right, yet so wrong at the same time. Not only was this life forced upon you, but this baby took everything from you. Your passion for dancing and painting, your want to go to college, desire to learn and grow. This creature that is in need of so much care and attention took all of that from you. But so did he. He hurt you the most.

Every day memories flow through your brain like a movie projecting onto a loosely hanging sheet. Warped, but clear for a person to know what happened. It was your duty to Clarrise that she did not know your past, and that she was brought into this life in a way that is a crime. And she never had to know. Having her not grow up with a father was a sacrifice you were willing to take to keep her protected from the pain you went through.

Your alarm on your phone went off, and you sat down on the couch to feed Clarrise. As you unclipped your padded bra, you froze at the sound of a knock came from the front door. Luckily Clarrise didn’t seem too hungry at the moment, so you slowly approached the door. You looked through the peep hole and saw a man. He had short brown hair, and piercing blue eyes. He looked… gentle.

As you held your child close to your chest you slowly opened the door.

“Can I help you?”

He looked down at you, a hight difference clearly present. He smiled at the small child in your arms and responded to your question. “Im looking for Carla. Does she live here?”

You nod and say “I am her, is there something I can do for you?” You ask again, wanting a reason for the sudden visit from this man. He looked back to your face and you made eye contact with him, it was his eyes that looked so familiar.

“Right, I just moved in down the hall way and wanted to introduce myself. Im James Barnes, and I’m from 107, that way.” He pointed down the hall way and you followed his finger. You nodded with a smile. “Well, its nice to meet you James. Would you like to come in? I was just about to feed this little one, but if you don’t feel comfortable with breast feeding, you don’t have to come in.”

You invite him in, not thinking of the dangers or intents of this man. He kindly accepts and enters your small apartment. Offering him a seat on the couch, you sit down opposite from him in the rocking chair. Putting a cover over Clarrise, you begin to feed her, the milk coming from your breasts entering her mouth as she begins to feed.

“What brings you to Spain? I don’t know a lot of English speakers here besides the land lord.” You say, wanting to start conversation. He nods and shrugs, smiling softly.

“I just needed a change of scenery, thats all.” He keeps his answer simple, not knowing how to bring himself to tell you what he did.

“Have I seen you around? You seem very familiar, maybe in the market?” You ask, knowing you have seen him somewhere.

This was his chance, this is the time to tell her.

“No, I don’t think it was in the market,” He says in a sad tone. “It was a while back, I- um, I worked with Hydra. For your father. A-and I was ordered to do something very harmful to you, and I believe it was the result of- of her…” He slowly explains as he takes off his glove, revealing his metal hand.

Your heart drops, the puzzle piece finally fitting in the right place in your mind. Tears pool in your eyes as you look from his eyes to his hand. The metal one. The memories come flooding back to your head, the nightmares, the feelings, and the eyes. His eyes, those got forbidden eyes. As cold as ice, yet as blue as the ocean of where you pictured yourself at the time of his assault.

"I am only here to apologize. I am not asking for forgiveness. I am no longer the winte-”

“Why,” you cut him off. “Why did you do it?” Your voice cracks, many emotions coming through your gritted teeth.

His eyes softened at your broken voice, and he sighs softly looking down at his hand. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“What did my father do? What did he do to you?” You ask, pity also filling your voice as you too know what horrors other prisoners went through. You felt bad, even for him. You tear your eyes away from him, moving them to your baby, his baby.

“He did horrible things, but nothing compares to what he did to you. What he made me do to you. I- Im so sorry Y/n…” He takes the risk of saying your name, not expecting anything from it.

“What are you doing here, James? What do you expect me to do?” I ask, trying to understand why he is here. “Did you come to finish the job?” You ask the question that dreaded your mind the moment he told you who he was.

“No, not at all. I actually came here to offer protection. But I understand if you want nothing to do with me or the life you had to endure when under the horrors of Hydra.”

You considered. You actually considered letting him stay and try to protect you. “What or who am I in danger of?” You counter his offer, trying to prove something but unsure of what. You sigh and shake your head. “Forget about it. Im in the witness protection program, so protection shouldn’t be a problem.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure, Carla. How do you think I found you?” He asks, exposing what he did to find you.

Your brows furrowed and you glared at him. “I see.”

You didn’t engage anymore, you were numb and didn’t know how to feel about the situation. You felt violated all over again, by the same man. “Leave. Please just go.” You whisper, tears falling freely down your cheeks. Once Clarrise was done eating, you clipped your breast back into your bra and stood up. You didn’t notice James put a card on your coffee table as he made his way to your door.

“I understand your fears. I hope you have found safety in Spain, Carla.” He said emotionlessly, actually understanding your fears. As he went back to his apartment which he did actually buy, he sighed and shut the door.

As he dialed the only phone number he actually knew, he slid down the door and sat against it as the line rung. He closed his eyes and let his head hit the door.

“Hey, you’ve reached Sam Wilson, Trauma counselor at the department of veterans affairs. Please leave a message and I will call you back when I’m free. Thanks!”

“Sam, It’s done. She- She’s crossed off the list.”

~~~~~~~

Hours had passed by the time you could even speak. “How could he have found us?” You ask as you bounce Clarrise in your arms. The sleeping little girl in your arms was clueless to your question, hopefully dreaming of running free and not in hiding anymore. “My god, maybe it would be good to have protection…”

You were talking to Clarrise as if she understood, but you knew she didn’t. You give her head a small kiss, looking in the direction of the coffee table in the middle of your small living room. An index card sat on the corner, scribbled on it was a phone number and a sloppy “107” on the bottom. You knew who this was from.

You sighed and sat on the couch, cuddling your baby close to your chest, clutching her as if she would disappear. Staring at the piece of paper in your hands you contemplate calling him, contemplating on apologizing. Apologizing on your fathers behalf.

Before you could stop yourself, you reached for your phone and dialed the number.

~~~~~~~

Bucky jumped at the ring of his cell phone. He instantly recognized the number from the witness protection program website.

“Hello?”

You took a few seconds before talking. “I know you know who this is. I’m making dinner a-and was wondering if you would like to join me?”

Bucky was taken a back by the sudden invitation, “Oh, sure I would love to. What time should I be there?”

Responding rather quickly, you said, “Now?”

Before he could say anything, you had hung up and began making dinner. Boiling water for the noodles, opening up some seasonings you had just bought and putting the bread in the oven, you were ready for James.

He knocked on your door and you put Clarrise in her bassinet in the living room, keeping an eye on her as you cooked. As you opened the door, you smiled softly at James. Instead of fearing him, you wrap your arms around him. He freezes, not yet used to such a gentle gesture from someone.

As you sigh into him, he returns the hug and softly wraps his arms around you too. “Im so sorry James. Im sorry for everything my father did to you…” You know you shouldn’t have to apologize, but you can’t help but feel obligated knowing what James went through.

“No, you have nothing to apologize for. It was and never will be your fault. Do you understand me?” James said, giving you a soft squeeze.

You nod silently in response, and you gently pull away; tears falling from your eyes. Out of instinct, he cups your cheek and tenderly wipes the tears from your cheeks.

You lean into his benevolent touch and look up at him, a sense of security falling over yourself. Even though you knew him as the winter soldier, you knew you were safe with James. You knew that Clarrise was his child as well, and that she was safe with James.

Gently reaching for his hand, you lead him into your home. He shuts the door behind him, and smiles as you walk to the kitchen continuing your work making dinner. You pause and look over at Clarrise who is now wide awake.

“Do you want to meet her?” You ask, noticing James looking over at the babbling baby.

He nods with a smile, subconsciously knowing that Clarrise is his child. As you approach the bassinet, you smile down at her. “Hi sweetheart, are you awake?” You ask in a small voice, smiling as she smiles back up at you. Picking her up, you hold her against your chest, looking to James with a smile.

“I named her Clarrise, after my mother. Do you want to give her a middle name?” You ask, subconsciously accepting that he is her father. He looked to you and tilted his head.

“Are you sure?” He asked, not wanting to force himself into the life you and Clarrise already have. You nod and wait for him to give an answer. “What about Sarah? After my sister?”

Your ears perked at the word ‘sister,’ “You have a sister?” You ask with smile.

“I had a sister. She um, she passed away a couple years ago. But she was sweet, and I think that it would be perfect for this sweet girl as well.” You smile at his suggestion and nod in approval.

“Clarrise Sarah Barnes.” You utter, gently handing James your baby girl. “It’s ok, you won’t hurt her, I know you won’t.” Looking up at him, you can see the hesitation in his eyes. As he takes Clarrise in his arms, the connection is clear between them. A father-daughter bond that no one can just create. She was his.

“She’s beautiful, just like her mother.” He subtly compliments you, himself falling for you. This time in the form of true love, not forced love. You feel your cheeks heat up, a shy smile pulling at your lips.

“She has her fathers eyes,” You point out Clarrise's blue eyes, still slightly forming as she grows. “And his bravery.” Adding onto her attribute, you look at James face as he interacts with the baby.

Thinking of his preposition, you say to him, “You know, I wouldn’t mind a little protection. I-it would be nice to not feel so scared going out. Clarrise I bet would love to have her father around as well.”

You anxiously wait for James’s reaction, hoping he doesn’t think you are moving to fast. Relief flooded your system as he nods. “I promise you, no one will hurt you. Not anymore.” He says, turning his head back to you. “I promise, Carla.”

You shake your head, and wave your hand a little bit. “Y/n is fine. Im sick of being someone Im not.”

He chuckles softly. “Trust me, I get it.” You smile and you move next to him, leaning on his strong bicep as you both look down at your beautiful baby girl.

“James?”

“Yes, Y/n?”

You pause.

You smile as he transfers Clarrise back into your arms. She has fallen asleep again, so you put her back in her bassinet. With the knowledge that both of her parents looking down at her, it makes you feel secure and safe.

You turn to Bucky and look up at him, your hands coming to meet his cheeks. The proximity of the both of you made your heart beat quicker, and your mind blank. You did what you felt was right and leaned forward, connecting your lips with his. His hands hold your waist gently, and he pulls you into him. You pull away breathlessly and he kisses your temple. You move your arms around his torso, and he holds you in an embrace, his chin resting on your head.

"I’d like you to stay. Please.” You answer, a sigh of relief escaping your mouth as you feel him nod his head.

“Of course, princess, of course.” He cradles the back of your head in his large hand and kisses your forehead once again. He may have hurt you in the past, but he’s gained a little bit of your trust. He showed you that he is sorry, and you understand that it was not his fault. In this new chapter of your life, you know you will make it far.

And so will your baby girl.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #Bucky barnes x mom!reader #TFATWS!Bucky x reader #Bucky banres x Y/n #slightly dark fic #bucky x reader #Winter soldier x reader #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes angst

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sunshine-theseus · 1 year ago

Text

Lego House | Aggie Beever-Jones x Reader

Words: 3.8k Summary: 2 years together basically means forever, no matter what happens. inspired by Ed Sheeran’s ‘Lego House’ Warnings: injury, you guys know I don’t stick to actual events so, slightly suggestive maybe? this is for me but also kinda for @perfectpersuasion because they seemed really excited about it

“Headphones?”

“Check.”

“Chargers?”

“Check.”

“Passport?”

“Double check.”

“Then why am I 100% sure it’s still in your top draw?” I dramatically reach across to my bag to prove that my passport is in fact packed safely in the secret pocket that I designated purely to the piece of identification.

But it’s empty, and I have to bashfully turn back to Aggie to admit it isn’t where it’s supposed to be. She only gives me a pointed look and I’m standing up and dragging my feet behind me to grab the passport from my bedside table draw.

“I swear I put it in there Ags. Last night after training.”

“Well it’s a good thing we’re doing the checklist. It happens every time, you forget something.” Once I slide the small book into my bag I drop back down onto our couch, leaning into my girlfriend. She wraps her arms around me, and I bury my head in her neck, feeling the regretful late-night yesterday setting in.

“Come on we’ve got to be boarding the bus in an hour and who knows how long it’ll take us to get there.”

~~~~~

Naturally Aggie and I sit next to each other on the bus and/or the plane when the team travels for matches. We usually take a spot toward the back, or wherever is least populated or energetic, so that we can just be there together. Our hands are almost always interlocked and I’m usually leaning on her shoulder as we talk about our play or whatever interesting things going on.

“I’m nervous.” I whisper in her ear as we begin the decent into Gothenburg.

“Everyone underestimates us because we’re young, so when you get on that pitch, either starting or as a sub, you show them you belong at Chelsea, and that we belong in the Champions League. Okay?” When she looks at me to confirm my answer I lean forward, pressing a small kiss to her lips.

A flash goes off in the corner of my eye and I turn to find Zecira holding the media crew camera.

“The fans are going to love that.” Smiling a toothy grin, she turns to someone else, leaving us be.

The dark December sky encourages the cold and the light dusting of snow that begins to cover the tarmac. I wrap an arm around Aggie’s as we wheel our bags into the airport, trying not to fall face first on the slippery surface.

The warmth inside is welcomed as we are guided past the large crowds and onto the bus. Once again, I take my spot beside Aggie, behind Jessie and Niamh who were talking about Jessie’s new favourite tea. A calmness settles over everyone as Emma announces who’s rooming with who, which we all basically already know. 9 times out of 10 it’s the person currently sitting next to us.

Opening the door to our room brings great relief as I flop onto the bed closest to the window. Despite the two queen sized beds on either side of the room, it was inevitable that I’d end up curled up in my girlfriend’s arms as we huddle under the blankets, the other bed left untouched. This also usually meant that our room was the one to come to for activities, an extra bed meaning more space.

Aggie stands staring out the window, the city spanning across the horizon as the sun begins the set, the blue barely beginning to fade into purples and pinks. Old buildings and the river that runs through the architecture draw her eye as I stand behind her, taking in the way her body rises as she breathes, and the twitch in her lips as she spots something she finds beautiful, a certain spark in her eye. One that’s always there when she looks at me, hard to ignore.

“Did you bring your camera?” I ask as I slot in beside her. A hum in answer suffices as we take in the moment.

“We’re really here. Together.” I press kisses to her shoulder.

“Stamford Bridge is one thing but, we’re playing in the fucking Champions League. We’re not sat on the bench forever, we actually get minutes, not matter how little.”

“And we’re going to fucking win tomorrow’s match. Consider it an extra anniversary present.” Aggie chuckles and I feel the butterflies that burst to life in my stomach every time I look at her.

My mind drifts to the real present that sits carefully in a compartment of my bag for our anniversary tomorrow. My mum insisted it was perfect for Aggie and despite my hesitancy, I had to agree.

“We should head down for dinner.” Aggie leans down to kiss me before we leave.

~~~~~

Emma gave us a few hours to explore the city in the morning before we had to begin training and warming up for tonight's match. Jessie, Niamh and Zecira join us in the foyer, and we start our journey through the Swedish city, Zecira eager to introduce us to her country's traditions.

Not long into the walk, we stumble upon a small café on a terrace. We slide into a table and order our respective drinks, Aggie additionally getting a kardemummabröd, cardamom bread, for us to share. Niamh refuses to be apart of the picture that I take of the group at the table, but I manage to convince her to smile for the camera as we head back down onto the street.

The group splits into 2 after that. Aggie and I leave to seek out some flowers and a quiet spot to spend time together for our anniversary, while the others head back to the hotel, desperate to stay warm, although Jessie doesn’t seem to mind the cold winds.

“Look! They have red carnations!” Aggie is the one to point out the flower stand, full of red and green, that holds bunches of my favourite flower.

When the shop owner sees our linked hands, she smiles, the corner of her eyes wrinkling as they light up.

“For free.” She pushes Aggie’s hand away as she tries to pay for the red carnations.

“Love is enough payment.” I slip some money onto the bench as we leave, heading to an empty but rather beautiful park across the road.

“Happy anniversary.” I press a kiss to her cheek as I hand her the small bag. Inquisitively, she opens it and the box that sits on the bottom, revealing the gift.

“It’s a family ring. Handed down through a bunch of generations. The oldest kid gets it to give to their partner, the one they and the family think is the one. The person they’ll spend the rest of their life with, who makes them the best them.” I explain the origins as I take the ring from the box and slip it onto her hand. The gold band holds a small, encrusted peridot gem and fits perfectly on Aggie’s hand.

“Thank you. I love it.” Her voice is soft and watery, and her cheeks flame red when she looks at me. I can only imagine the love that adorns my face as I look at her. I’m about to kiss her when she has a moment of realisation.

“I left your gift in the fucking room.” The sweet moment is broken as she throws her head back and groans, and I can’t help but let out a hearty laugh.

“It’s okay.” I place a hand on top of the one she has on my thigh.

“Nooo we won’t have time when we get back, you’ll have to wait until tonight and that’s unfair.”

“I don’t even expect gifts Ags, just you and me. Plus, you got me my flowers. My favourite flowers from my favourite person. Sounds pretty good to me.”

“I’m your favourite person yeah?”

“Mmhm.” Her finger links through the thin gold chain that hangs around my neck.

“Show me then.” Her voice is raspy and deep as she pulls me forward by the necklace until our lips meet. It’s a hot and heavy kiss considering where we are, but I reciprocate it none-the-less.

I go to pull away, but she pulls me back in and I end up on her lap as we make out on the park bench. Her hands grip my thighs and mine hold the back of her head… Until we remember we’re on a park bench.

“That was kinda hot. Definitely a good make up present.” I smile down at her as our foreheads rest against each other.

“Emma’s going to kill us if we don’t head back soon…” Aggie is adamant that we begin walking to the hotel so we’re not late, so we walk hand in hand through the cold, barely arriving in time.

Training and warm up went well. The schedule was easy to adapt to and we weren’t pushing excessively as to waste energy before the match.

In saying that, we were up 2-1 when I got subbed on in the 60th minute, replacing Lj who wasn’t feeling all too well at half time. I felt good and energised, ready to make my second UWCL appearance.

Sam and I were gelling well together as we often did, making passes and taking shots on goal, only to be blocked by the Hacken keeper. It was a hard game but we were winning.

Aggie gets subbed on in the 68th minute, along with Jessie. The ball rarely makes it back past us, Erin often making a run with the ball toward us. Eventually Aggie passes me the ball and I try to gage my surroundings. Sam is offside, passing back to Aggie would be a mistake, Jessie’s surrounded. Erin has a clear path and shot of the goal.

I begin to run, and right as the ball connects with my foot, flying toward Erin, a body knocks against mine and my knee buckles. Nothing feels real as I fall to the floor, a loud pop filling my ears as pain radiates through my knee. I let out a blood curdling scream, but it isn’t heard over the cheering of Chelsea fans as Erin hits the ball into the goal.

I toss around on the grass, holding my leg and slamming a hand repeatedly against the ground as I sob and wale, waiting for someone to notice. It’s Sophie who places a hand on my back and yells for the ref, who then yells for the medics.

Aggie drops down in front of me as we wait, and I try and reach for her hand. The task finds itself to be difficult as my own hand shakes and my vision is blurred by tears.

“It’s- it’s my ACL.” A loud sob slips from my lips despite my attempt to hold it back.

“You don’t kn-”

“I know it Ags. I know it is I swear.”

“Okay, okay. It’ll be okay. The medics are here to look at it okay?” I nod as their hands grasp my leg, asking whether certain movements hurt or not.

It’s when I see them wave for the orange stretcher that things feel real again. Like everything was happening in slow motion until that moment. And I begin to cry again, my head now resting in Aggie’s lap as she runs a hand through my hair.

Every movement hurts as they transfer me from the ground to the stretcher, and I try not to scream out. A couple of the girls walk alongside me until the sideline, where Aggie grabs my hand and kisses me.

“I’ll come see you as soon as I can, okay?” I nod and watch as she runs back onto the pitch, her head turning every few steps to look at me, worry set in her eyes.

Turns out ‘as soon as I can’ would be much later. The medics had decided that instead of waiting until tomorrow or until we were back in England for a scan, it’d be best to go straight to the hospital. So we did.

Despite the usual wait to receive scan results, I’m sent back to the hall to wait for them. While waiting for the radiographer to call my name, Emma messages me asking if I wanted the team there. I decline the offer, knowing the girls would be exhausted after the last game of 2023 and would just want to sleep.

That doesn’t stop Aggie showing up.

I can hear the pounding of shoes hitting the linoleum ground, someone clearly running, but I don’t give it much thought as I scroll mindless on my phone. When she crouches in front of me, hands on my thigh to keep herself balanced, I have to try not to show how relieved I am. I knew what the results would be but hearing it makes it all the more real and I needed my girlfriend to hold my hand.

“Did we win?” a soft chuckle fills the air, and she nods as I put my phone in my pocket.

“3-1, because of your pass to Erin.”

“Oh, that’s good.” I’m aware of the glum look on my face as Aggie sits on the ground in front of me, allowing me to braid her hair repeatedly as we talk, waiting for the results.

“Ms L/n?” Aggie is quick to stand and turn to face the doctor while I struggle with the crutches.

“We know you already know what’s wrong but, to confirm, you’ve ruptured your anterior cruciate ligament in your right knee. You’ll be referred to a doctor and surgeon in England so you can arrange the surgery as soon as possible once you get home. I’m terribly sorry.” she leaves us with a woeful smile and the only thing I have to stop me from spiralling is Aggie’s hand on my shoulder.

“You’ll get through this. We will get through this. I’ll be there every step of the way. So will the girls. And if you fall down, I’ll pick you back up.” She kisses me on the forehead, and we begin the walk out to the parking lot, waiting for someone to pick us up.

Most people are asleep or relaxing in their rooms or the meal room by the time we get back to the hotel. Emma gives me a hug but doesn’t encourage us to stay or talk to anyone, knowing I’ll want to be alone with Aggie for a while.

“Getting on the plane tomorrow is going to be a challenge.” I try to laugh off the thought of all the normal activities that won’t be easy anymore as I shift onto my side of the bed.

“I’ll carry you, bridal style.” With that, Aggie hands me a gift, the gift she forgot on our date earlier in the day.

The box is rather heavy, and when I take off the lid, I find a photo album. It’s hard not to smile at the photo of us kissing that’s stuck to the cover.

“A page for every day we’ve spent together. For every day I’ve loved you.” I flick through the pages, reading some of the notes around the photos.

“This is why you take a photo of us every day?”

“I also just love capturing your beauty.” I pull her close to me and kiss her.

“I love you so much.”

“Not as much as I love you.”

~~~~~

I ended up having my surgery on Christmas day. Aggie and my family had planned on having a big day together, opening presents and having a feed, and I felt guilty taking the joy away. There wasn’t really any other choice. Aggie held me the night before as I cried. Our bed felt like the only safe place, even in our apartment, so that’s usually where I stayed. The increase in rain felt very fitting for how I’d been feeling.

Once everyone started coming back from the Christmas break, our place became more lively. I still used a singular crutch just in case, but for the most part I could put solid weight on my leg again, which meant I was able to do more activities with the team. We would hold game nights and/or movie nights once a week and occasionally I’d cook a Sunday roast.

Eventually Aggie began to take me to training. I wasn’t able to do anything, but I enjoyed watching the girls and just being in the environment again. It also made me happy watching Aggie play, it was when she looked the most carefree, despite others claiming that was when she was with me.

Aggie hadn’t left my side. Helping me shower and do the exercises for my knee. She always made sure I was entertained and asked if I needed help. Most of our spare time together was spent with me wrapped in her arms, watching a shitty tv show or talking.

“What did the doc say?”

“The ligament is looking good. They still think I’m on track for getting back in the gym in May, test out that anti-gravity treadmill.”

“And you got the team physio check up tomorrow yeah?” I hum as I adjust myself in her arms, head slotting into the crook of her neck.

I was having weekly check-ups with the Chelsea medical team and my own physio, which made it rather nerve wracking, wondering if one would feel the same as the other. If we weren’t all on the same page, my recovery time could be pushed further back. The team physio check up was the last one to confirm that I’d be allowed to start training and building stamina back up next month.

When I arrived at Cobham in the training kit, I felt really good. Some of the girls who pulled up at the same time as us were screaming across the car park and wishing me luck in my first session back.

I knew I’d be stuck in the gym for at least 2 months before I was allowed back on the pitch. Even then it’d be another couple of months before I was properly training with the team again, but this was the first step, and nothing could take that joy from me.

The girls started their mornings off in the gym, which meant they were cheering me on and helping me as the trainers gave me exercises to do. Aggie spends most of the hour doing the exercises alongside me, only leaving to complete something mandatory or to get us more water.

“You don’t have to Ags. You should focus on your training.”

“I promised I’d be here every step of the way. I’ll do it all for you.” She locks the leg extension and gives me a hand to help me up.

“Now onto the anti-gravity machine. First time huh?” she gently bumps me with her shoulder as I get ready to step into the chamber before Lily, my designated trainer, enables the ‘anti-gravity.’

“Oh this feels weird.” The way my body lifts with every step eases the pressure on my knee as I start to get used to it.

“Look at you! This is so cool.” Aggie doesn’t stop smiling as she watches me, some of the other girls occasionally making their way over to watch.

As predicted, 2 months later I begin training on the pitch. It felt lonely, watching the girls and being so close to joining them, yet so far. But I knew I was nearly there. Lily helped me with building up speed and getting used to the feel of the boots and grass again. Then came shooting practice; standing, getting passed a ball, and shooting. Eventually we added the training mannequins and Lily played goalkeeper as I manoeuvre around the pitch and obstacles.

Aggie likes to join us at lunch or sometimes gets excused by Emma to help me.

“Aggiiiie. I’m supposed to have the ball you’re supposed to just block me.”

“You gotta fight for the ball or take it off someone at some point.” Her cheeks are that beautiful pink as she grins at me.

“I hate you.” I puff out as I try to catch my breath.

“I’m wounded.” A hand falls to her heart before she approaches me, the ball still at her feet, and she leans in for a kiss.

“Nuh uh you’re being mean.”

“No I am not! Please one kiss.”

“Fine.” As she closes her eyes again and leans in, I swipe the ball from underneath her and start to run to the goal.

“What the fuck!?”

“Get better babe!” I take a shot around Lily, although not very hard considering her lack of goalkeeper training, and watch as it slots into the back of the net.

“73 minutes in and number 10 Lauren James is being subbed off! Who for? It’s Y/n L/n making her first appearance of the 24/25 season after rupturing her ACL in the Champion’s League in December last year. Her first game in 326 days at a sold-out Stamford Bridge! And who else is there to walk with her onto the pitch, if not her girlfriend and one of Chelsea’s star strikers, Aggie Beever Jones. Today is a great day for it.”

I try not to cry as Aggie takes my hand, making my way to my position. The cheer from the crowd as I jog on is deafening and I clap back at them before the ref blows the whistle.

Not long into play, Aggie makes a run forward, and I find a clear space between players near the goal and call for the ball. She kicks it and it soars through the air, making contact with my head as I jump. The net ripples as it skims passed the Arsenal keeper, and I’m making a run for Aggie to celebrate.

“First game back and you scored! Let’s fucking go!” she grabs me by my face and pulls me in. The kiss is unexpected but welcome in celebration.

We win 4-0, and Aggie and I find ourselves tangled up in our sheets, tracing patterns on each other’s bare skin as we whisper messages of love and adoration for the other.

“I’d do anything for you.”

“You did everything for me.”

Y/N_L/N

Y/N_L/N: this is a thank you letter to the one who’s stood by me for 3 years. who’s loved and cared for me when I didn’t think anyone would. a year ago today I ruptured my ACL, on our anniversary, and in the year since then we’ve only grown stronger, loved each other harder, fallen deeper. i'd do it all for you, like you did for me

---------

Beth and Viv’s new doco on their ACL journey really helped me with writing this. Obviously not everyone’s journey is the same so I tried to make it as different as I could with ruining it all together. I hope they’re proud of the doc because it’s really going to help people, and hopefully encourage more funding in researching the ACL injuries in women’s football and help with creating boots designed for women, so it lowers the risk of injuries like ACLs.

#woso x reader #woso #womens soccer #wsl #woso fanfics #aggie beever jones #aggie beever jones x reader #aggie beever-jones #chelsea women #chelsea fcw #cfcw

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on-a-lucky-tide · 2 months ago

Note

reread Cigard & Vodka again and the part where Nik receives his british passport reminded me of "Stay, I Pray You" from the Anastasia musical

Let me have a moment / Let me say goodbye / To bridge and river, forest and waterfall / Orchard, sea, and sky / Harsh and sweet, and bitter to leave it all / I'll bless my homeland 'til I die

This is beautiful. Thank you, Non. I'm going to see if I can find it on Spotify.

I think I've said this before, but a lot of my shorts are exercising parts of the character I want to build into my long fic.

At the start, I have a highly broken and struggling Nikolai, who deeply loves his homeland, his culture, his people, everything, but he is morally conflicted over the direction in which his country is being dragged. In his eyes, he has to make a choice between the home he loves or his soul (his values, his integrity, his conscience). He reaches a point where he can't have both.

The fact that Nikolai is able to make a new home, after many trials and tribulations, with John. That is a part of him healing. He will always be a proud Russian, it's woven into his heart, but that now belongs to a man with a stupid, scruffy beard and the most intelligent, mischievous blue eyes he's ever seen.

The loss of his homeland puts him in a dark place, but, through his own personal strength, Laswell and John, he becomes a better man than he was before. One that can hold his head up proudly. Be who he is authentically. That's the Nikolai we meet in the games. Still with his flaws, but centered, calm, defiant of what the world would have seen him become. I'm just handing him the disaster bisexual his big gay heart absolutely deserves.

#cod nikolai #call of duty #cod #nikprice #prikolai

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esmerulia-chantelle · 4 months ago

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A/N: I remember seeing a picture of Azul as a doctor before. And then this hit me.

Notes: mentions of injuries/wounds, blood, fainting

🐙 Thinking about Azul who works as a doctor 🐙

Let's say Azul owns this clinic and works as a doctor there together with Jade and Floyd helping him as a nurse or some other staff. Then in comes you, new to the city and a fresh injury on your body from traveling.

It was the nearest clinic to you and you went to pay a visit to have your wounds treated. It wasn't anything major but the constant bleeding from the opening in your skin has you worried. You felt faint and the moment you stepped inside the clinic, you fainted.

When you came to, you opened your eyes to a white ceiling. You blinked your eyes a few times and remembered you went to the clinic. You slowly sat up with a groan and checked your body and realized the small injury was now bandaged. As you sighed in relief, you heard the sound of the door opening.

"You're finally awake."

You turned your head and saw a handsome man looking at you. He had fluffy white hair with a longer strand framing the left side of his face. He had piercing blue eyes behind his silver-rimmed glasses and a beauty mark resting on the left corner of his soft-looking lips. He donned a pressed button-up shirt and some slacks underneath the white coat. He was also wearing a pair of formal shoes as he stood tall, looking at you while holding onto a clipboard.

He closed the door and walks closer, taking a seat beside you.

"I'm Doctor Ashengrotto. How are you feeling, Mx. Y/N?"

"I'm fine. Thank you, doctor. Just feeling a bit weak... How did you find out about my name though?"

"Your passport was in your pocket and it fell out when you fainted. Rest assured. Your things are right over there." He points to your other side and you found your belongings there.

"Ahh! Thank you so much, doctor! I'm so sorry for the trouble."

"It was no trouble at all. After all, a doctor can't deny someone in need of care, right?" He flashed you a smile. "I'll call one of my nurses to get your vitals checked before we discharge you from the clinic."

As he left, you couldn't help but wonder more about Doctor Ashengrotto.

You later meet two medical staff who assisted you during your short stay in the clinic. They were twins named Jade and Floyd. Jade was calm and polite man who looked a bit mysterious, as if his eyes were always observing. Floyd was more energetic than him though you noticed his mood could shift from one to another. They were pleasant to be with though.

You finished with the things you needed to do at the clinic before leaving with your things, bags and a large suitcase in hand. You said your thanks and bid them goodbye, thinking that was it.

...ah, how wrong you were.

Because for some reason, you always keep bumping into Azul and his close companions. They were like this formidable trio in your eyes but you couldn't deny you enjoyed your company especially since you didn't know anyone in the city.

Doctor Ashengrotto, or Azul (as he insisted you call him that) or simply Zul (a nickname by you) who may have invited you to work for him in his clinic as his PA just so he could subtly spend more time with you.

Azul who has seen many injuries from accidents in life as a doctor and always acts cool and collected but when it comes to you, there's always that hint of panic and a deep-seated worry in his blue eyes when something bad happens.

Azul who invites you out to have dinner together with the twins but somehow ends up with just the two of you.

Azul who says you can stay with him for a while when you were having difficulties with the room you rented, saying it would make it easier to go to work since his home is just above the clinic and it's more convenient (so he could watch over and care for you).

You felt that you would be a bother but Azul insisted and said it was only temporary until he helps you find a new place. (Which he isn't really doing because now, he will get even MORE alone time with you when you move in with him.)

Azul who takes you with him to parties or events or gatherings and you're ALWAYS mistaken as his romantic partner. (Which he doesn't mind. And maybe you don't either.)

Azul will provide for you. He will care for you. He will spoil you and give you a life comfort. He'll do anything for you, just stay by his side.

Azul can't imagine the rest of his life without you anymore. He needs you to be his.

#twisted wonderland #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #thinking about azul🐙

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gotham25052 · 5 days ago

Text

Dark Waters

Part 7

Contents: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Author's note: The complete chapter is posted on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60435238/chapters/158405293 Please note the warnings/tags on ao3.

I posted a shortened version here where the most explicit portions are removed. (But this version is also NSFW) Brackets [] denote removed portions.

So if you want to avoid the most explicit stuff, stay here, but if you'd like the full chapter, head to ao3. I will also post the link at the first breaking point in the chapter.

TW: 18+, NSFW, violence, sexual content, swearing

When Annie was young, perhaps only six or seven years old, she joined her family in a familiar yearly routine for many in her small rural community. In the early spring, they walked to one of the patches of forest scattered between fields, on a search for edible mushrooms. It was one of the earliest, and most enjoyable, memories of her childhood. The adults took sticks they found on the ground, and broke off the unnecessary twigs, using them to push aside old leaves from fall and the newly sprouted wildflowers and nettles on the forest floor. They wanted to see the ground clearly to spot the brown and tan morels that were so delicious after they were cleaned and fried.

Annie walked slowly in the woods, afraid that she might step on one of the precious mushrooms after she had been cautioned by the adults to be careful where her feet fell. She had an immediate love for the forest in spring - the new buds on the trees made a variegated canopy above her, still letting the blue sky shine through. In many areas, she delighted in the tiny white blooms of wildflowers carpeting the ground, like a fairy wonderland. She imagined it must be what heaven looked like.

The delicate purple of woodland phlox, the luxurious red curves of prairie trillium, the surprising yellow of the wood sorrel, all of them could be found on the forest floor. Beautiful and unique shapes that only appeared in the forest in spring, quick to be overtaken by aggressive weeds in June and July.

But there were also places in the woods she feared. As a little girl, her shorter height made patches of mayapples quite terrifying. Their leaves spread out like small umbrellas on the ground, and their height sometimes came up above her knees. She was always afraid there might be something underneath them, as their spreading canopy created an impenetrable surface she couldn't see through.

And as she followed the adults on their search, the sticks they held pushed back the rotting leaves of fall, sometimes uncovering new flowers or the leaves of small plants, but also sometimes bizarre things - things that looked like they came from another planet. Toadstools, mounds of mica caps, the intricate branching white of coral fungi, the bright red of scarlet cup. She didn't like the strange surfaces and bizarre colors of them and the way they appeared out of nowhere when the leaves were moved aside.

Annie didn't know enough about what was happening in Gotham to have made the comparison, but the city that spring was much like the forest floor of her memories. With their routines changed and the grind of work removed for many people, there were lovely things - newfound pleasures and time together with family. There was young love, like Annie's growing affection for the Joker, which at its root was sweet and pure, like wildflowers. But there were other things growing unseen under the rotten leaves of fall, foul things, ugly things, misshapen souls and violent desires. Especially for the young men of Lower Gotham, the disappearance of any regular occupation and their constant harassment at the checkpoints led to growing gangs, some wearing clown masks, some not; some angry at the injustice of the passport system, some simply angry at anything that got in their way. The contrast of darkness and light couldn't have been more pronounced. It was exceptional, that spring in Gotham.

Annie lived like someone suspended, walking on a thin wire between two realities. Her previous existence in Gotham, full of work, self-denial, and control was now gone. There was no job that kept her up late, no commutes through the city, no juggling of bills to pay. In front of her, there was an uncertain future. She didn't feel ready to commit herself to whatever world she was now in - so much was unknown to her. And she still feared discovery, if somehow the police figured out her real identity.

She hovered on the wire, unable to go back, and unsure about moving forward, with a black abyss stretching out below her.

Annie's situation was unique, of course, but many others around her in Lower Gotham also found themselves suspended in their lives in different ways. Many of them had lost their jobs due to the difficulty of the commute to Upper Gotham, too, and they also didn't know what the future brought. The general atmosphere was one of uncertainty, in a way exciting due to the strange emptiness of the streets and the promise of something new and unexpected in the absence of the everyday drudgery of work. But it was also disconcerting, as people waited to see what this new world would bring.

Thankfully, the past public relations disaster of Dent's comment about the food shipments to Lower Gotham meant that there was an overabundance of food deliveries from Upper Gotham, Annie noticing that at least one drop point was located on the street below her window. She would walk past the boxes every day when she went out for walks. She always went out in the early morning hours when there were few people on the streets. She was beginning to run low on food, but she still had some time before she would have to ask the Joker's men, stationed near her door, for help getting more. She was nervous about approaching them, but she would do it when she had to.

She often stopped in the apartment building's lobby to gather more information about what was happening in Gotham from the small TV there. She was especially interested, of course, in what kind of search they were mounting for her, and how careful she should be. She had been mentioned in the news, a mysterious woman the Joker had deposited at the hospital. But her story was one among many others about Dent's checkpoints, thankfully. And by some stroke of luck, probably because she had not yet been placed under arrest, no one had taken her photo in the hospital. The only images shared on the news were sketches, all of them hopelessly inaccurate. The only feature they seemed to get right was her unusually blue eyes.

As the weeks passed by, Annie's health returned. Her recovery was slow and the changes imperceptible at first, as recovery from a long illness often is, but soon enough her face was filling out again into its usual form, erasing the hollowness of her cheeks. The youthful bloom of color on her face came back, making it hard to tell that she wasn't just a normal young woman who hadn't gone through trauma and illness. Her walks brought back her strength, and though the burden of uncertainty always weighed heavily on her, she did thrive on the freedom to shape her days and roam as she wished.

With her newfound time, her mind wandered back to things she had enjoyed in her childhood. She had loved music, but of course all the music in her small community centered around hymns sung in a religious setting. She could still sing them, all of them, but she could no longer get enjoyment out of them. Everything from her past in the Church was tarnished beyond repair. She gave up on trying to pursue music as a hobby, the sadness of her personal history still hanging over her.

Her thoughts most often found a way to wander to him, to the Joker. In a way, she was more afraid of meeting him again now than she ever had been before. She understood her feelings better now, but she felt completely unsure of what would happen when they met. She often found herself dwelling on the kiss they had shared, hoping just the memory could give her some satisfaction and perhaps allow her a break from her thoughts of him. But the kiss was not just a kiss - whether it was real or just a show by the Joker, she didn't know, but despite its generous sweetness, his kiss had a hunger in it. She could feel that he wanted more. And examining herself, she realized that she had responded to him with a lustful desire too. She was surprised at the strength of her own feelings and reactions. The memories of him had helped get her through her time in the hospital, but now the memories were not enough. Now she could feel a need for him in a way she had never experienced.

Of course she had been with someone before, but it was as far from this as night from day. She was so young, she had barely even thought of the opposite sex, and then a marriage was thrust upon her and consummated as a matter of course, without any consideration for her inexperience. Her body grew accustomed to the way her husband came to her and the shock wore off, but nothing like love or even attraction ever developed for her. When she had escaped to Gotham, one of her chief victories was simply to have power over her own body again. And she left it in peace, not wanting to stir anything that would lead to being involved with anyone again. She had assumed she would keep that pledge with herself for the rest of her life, but now everything was different. She still felt some anger toward the Joker for having woken up all these complexities in her, for pursuing her like this. But even with his seeming dedication to getting her out of the hospital, she also didn't really know anything about him. Would she even see him again? She admitted to herself that she wasn't sure. Maybe he did this kind of thing all the time, with many women…

The Joker opened the door and walked in with barely a glance at her, his long strides cutting across the room to the kitchen. This was the first time she had seen him since he had brought her back from the hospital. She was standing behind the counter, but he ignored her, silently opening each cabinet door and slamming it again, then ending with the refrigerator. He was a flurry of motion, his open purple coat flying out behind him each time he turned. The anger was clear on his painted face.

He whipped past her and left the kitchen, standing in front of her on the other side of the counter. "Every cabinet is empty. What's wrong with you, Annie? I told you to tell my men whenever you needed anything. It's been weeks, and they said they haven't heard a word from you." His loud, accusing voice rang through the cramped apartment.

But Annie barely heard him. She forgave him inwardly for his outburst. She was used to rationing, she'd been doing it her whole life. He didn't understand that. And something about the way his anger animated him today, it highlighted the strange grace in the way he moved. The strength apparent in his body even under the layers of clothing, the way he spun around almost like he was dancing instead of reprimanding her, it all struck her with far more force than his words.

He opened his eyes wide, seeing that she was not reacting with the fear he expected. He thought she must be off in one of her other worlds again, with her faraway look. "You know, I even have the food drops from Upper Gotham set up right here, right under your window. You could ask my men, or you could go down yourself, and just take something." He took a seat in the lone chair in the room, leaning his head down and raising his hand to his forehead to push his hair back in frustration.

She had moved out from behind the counter, walking toward him, not really knowing what she was doing. She came closer, hardly daring to touch this tornado, this force of nature.

She remembered her last thoughts, how they all centered around him, when she was on her journey into the snow. He had destroyed the life she had, but the swath of color he left in his wake dazzled her eyes. She knew she was stepping off the wire now, letting herself fall. With him here in front of her, though, it was easy - so easy.

"What can I do to get you to understand, when you want something, take it?" he muttered, more talking to himself now than to her. With his head down, he hadn't noticed how close she was. A calm came over her and she knelt down in front of him, putting her hands on the sleeves of his coat, the texture scratching her skin as she slid them down the purple fabric and lifted her eyes to meet his. She felt very much like she was playing with fire, and the flames might stretch one way or the other.

He raised his head to meet her gaze. "Just take it" he said slowly. His eyes were softened but still shone intensely, like burning embers before the flames break out. He brought his hands up to either side of her face, guiding her chin upward. He had been so wrapped up in his frustration that he hadn't noticed how the color had returned to her face, but now he could see the youthful glow there again and knew that her health had come back to her.

He had wanted to make her wait, he had wanted to make her suffer like he had suffered, waiting for her. But the look on her face, almost like her feelings gave her pain, melted those plans away. He brought their lips together, the sweetness of the kiss spreading down her neck and warming her body.

He broke away from the kiss, standing up abruptly and bringing her up with him. He could feel the refreshed strength in her body. He pushed her backward, making her stumble, but by now he had his arms around her, supporting her until she found her back against the wall. "I wanted to do this before," he said. He bent down to slowly kiss her neck, his tongue caressing her skin.

"I thought you wanted to kill me." she murmured.

"No, remember, I wanted to save you," he sighed, pressing his hand onto the middle of her chest until she could not draw a breath. But she didn't care. Her eyes were glazed over with desire. His lips met hers and he was quickly inside her mouth, pushing her head back, and he relaxed the pressure on her chest as if he was too distracted to maintain it. She gasped involuntarily and the sound only made him more desperate. His earnestness and focus made him seem almost innocent, wholesome.

He broke away from the kiss and pushed her back against the wall again, looking at her searchingly. He already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear her say it. "Do you want me to take off the paint?" His tone was completely changed from a moment earlier. It was light and inquisitive, as if they were just chatting about the weather. Her eyes dwelled on the exquisite textures and garish colors running across his face.

"No," she shook her head slowly, mesmerized by him. "I like it." He rolled his eyes down to her, giving her a knowing stare.

"The police were right, you do belong in Arkham - you're fucking crazy" he said distractedly, as he brought his body close to hers again.

[] (Explicit portion removed)

Link to ao3 for full version, note the warnings/tags there: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60435238/chapters/158405293

The night stretched out before them. She sometimes felt she was above the sparkling waves and completely free, and at other times like she was deep under the dark currents. But when she reached too high or too low, his voice came back to her and tethered her to reality. He molded her into a thousand forms and then drew her back with a raspy order.

She woke up in the morning to his fingers lightly dragging along her neck from her ear to her collarbone, and back again. His side was propped against the wall, giving her his chest to lean against as her eyes opened and she surveyed the room. She was in her simple box of an apartment, but somehow she now felt unimaginably wealthy. His strong body behind her and the luxurious strokes of his fingers on her neck could have been a queen's throne and the most expensive of necklaces - she felt surrounded by opulence as she turned the soles of her feet back to feel his legs behind her.

"Kitten, go to sleep. I have to get back to my work."

"No," she said, but she already felt her eyelids drooping lazily. The hypnotizing strokes of his fingers hastened her return to sleep, and she was soon dreaming again.

He waited until she was sleeping deeply, then left the bed and took his clothes from the floor, dressing slowly and deliberately. He put his head out the door and asked his men for a cigarette and a light. Because he didn't often smoke, they weren't prepared, but luckily they found one of them had a cigarette leftover from their long night of keeping watch. He drew in a deep drag and went back into the room. He sat in the one wooden chair, looking at her on the bed, as if he was enjoying her unmoving, unconscious state. He starred out of the window at the city, surprisingly bright this morning with rare sun reflecting from the buildings' shiny facades. He found his eyes traveling up and down her legs as he finished the cigarette and looked down at the burning ember left in his hand. He seemed to tear his gaze away with some effort. He stepped into the hallway, dropped the small remains of the cigarette on the floor, and snuffed it out with a few purposeful turns of his foot.

The men stationed at her door called him, interrupting his conversation with one of the GCPD officers he had bankrolled. "It's been almost a day now since you… visited, Boss, and we haven't heard anything from inside the apartment. No water on, no footsteps. We thought you should know."

"I'll be there," he responded, and hastily put away his phone. He left the scene without another word, swiftly walking back to the car. As soon as it was parked on the street outside her building, he was taking the stairs to her apartment two at a time. He felt frustrated - this was the second time he hadn't been able to predict her actions, the second time he was rushing to her apartment - how could she be so uncontrollable? A prickle of fear now began to rise up his spine. He hadn't thought she would take any drastic actions, he thought he had left her happy. He knew a lot of what made Annie tick, but at the same time, she had a certain remoteness that was hard to read. There was a silence to her that he couldn't decipher.

He quickly opened the door without a glance at his men and was immediately relieved to see her sitting up on the far edge of the bed, her back toward him. She was completely naked, as he had left her, and the blankets and items thrown off the bed were still strewn over the floor. He closed the door behind him and walked toward her. He moved more slowly as he came closer, coming around the bed to face her. She sat with her hands to her sides as if to get up, but she was completely motionless. He bent down on his knees to get a clear look at her face. Her eyes were focused far away, her expression blank.

Despite her vacant stare, his eyes lingered on the perfect curve of her lips. He took her face in his hands, kissing her deeply.

She seemed to stir and begin to return from whatever far away journey her mind had been on. He felt the pressure on his lips as she responded to his kiss. She pulled away, focusing her gaze back into the present and studying his face quietly. She reached up and traced her fingers over his scar, from his ear to the corner of his mouth. She kept tracing the imaginary line and found the indentation of the cut in his lower lip. She touched it delicately, taking her time to feel the ripple in his smooth skin. She began to speak, her voice raspy: "My lover is handsome and strong; he is one in ten thousand. His cheeks are a bed of spices, as sweet flowers: his lips like lilies, dropping sweet smelling myrrh… His mouth is most sweet…"

He didn't like for anyone to touch his scars, but the gentle way her fingers glided over them and the strange poetry falling from her lips would not allow him to protest.

Her words hung eerily in the dim room. He brought her toward him, holding the back of her neck and kissing her, this time messily dragging his lips from her mouth to her neck.

[] (Explicit portion removed)

The men outside shrugged. They were never surprised by the Joker's erratic behavior. They returned to their game of cards in the hallway.

"Ok, upsy daisy, kitten." They had woken up together in the morning, and he had decided it would be best to take her outside with him. Maybe the fresh air would snap her back into her usual self. Though, if he was being honest, he liked his kitten being so dedicated to him. He really was a selfish man. She seemed to only breath when he told her to, her body only moving when his hands were on her. But he knew it wasn't sustainable - she needed to take care of herself. He wondered what had happened in that faraway mind of hers.

First, he would have to get them cleaned up. She was a disaster and he assumed he probably looked no better. She smiled at his efforts to pull her out of bed, making it difficult for him to get her up and into the bathroom. But she eventually relented, and once he turned on the water to the shower, she seemed to perk up a bit and reached her hand in to splash him with the water.

It was something beautiful to see her like this, seemingly without any inhibitions and allowing herself to act like a child. Growing up the way she had, so quickly being saddled with the responsibilities of adulthood in a community that trained girls to take on the housework and care of younger siblings so early, she had never really gotten to be a child. The Joker's life was a mystery, but maybe his childhood had been taken away from him too. The way they giggled as they bumped against each other getting into the shower, the way he laughed at the pitiful stream of water streaming from the showerhead in the cheap apartment, it seemed like two people living a late moment of thoughtless fun, like children again for this short time.

The small shower of a compact apartment didn't allow them much room, especially for his tall form. But they made it work, laughing as they grabbed the shampoo. They fought over it first, but then he relented and let her take some. He had to bend down for her to reach him as she washed his hair, slowly working the foam into his scalp with her fingertips. He washed hers next, enjoying the slippery feel of her wet hair.

She set her eyes on his face, seeing that their night together and the shower had taken off a great deal of his makeup. She decided to work on removing the rest, grabbing a cloth and rubbing it over the remaining paint gently, patiently. It was stubborn but finally relented, staining the cloth with its colors.

With the makeup mostly off now, only a trace of the black eyeshadow left and a little embedded red in the creases of his scars, he looked suddenly so young and so simple. As she worked on removing the last traces of the paint, she wondered what he was before he was the Joker. The naked skin of his body and now his face too made him seem suddenly vulnerable, and she knew he could see the question in her eyes. He put an arm around her to draw her closer, saying, "Annie, don't ask me about my past, please." She was taken aback. The way he said please with such a supplicating tone, as if he was afraid of her - as if she could hurt him. She had never heard him speak like that before. She looked up at him with concern. "Ok," she said, reaching her hand up to his face and cradling his cheek there. He took her face in his hands, bringing their lips together and kissing her deeply. The taste of the water was so different from the smooth waxy flavor she was used to. His lips offered more resistance now, giving her a better grip as she drug her mouth over his. It was a desperate kiss, a wonderful kiss.

[] (Explicit portion removed)

"Annie, these clothes are horrible. You only have your work clothes?" He was trying to find something for her to wear. He didn't wait for an answer from her. He went to the door, poking his head out and addressing his men. "Go get the red dress from the van, it's still in the box. And get me that bag under the seat."

He had handed her a hairbrush and told her to use it, and when he checked on her, she seemed to be complying. His men soon returned with the items he had requested. He lifted the red dress out of the box, the same one she had worn to the news station months ago. She looked at it with some hesitation, revealing the Annie the Joker was accustomed to. "I should get some underwear," she said. "No, kitten, this dress doesn't need it," he said, and hastily lifted it over her head. She allowed him to pull it over her obediently. "Now finish with your hair," he said, handing the brush back to her. She struggled with it for a bit and finally gave up, letting some of the tangles remain.

She entered the main room of the apartment, where he was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed and wearing a brown sweater, the makeup still absent and his hair pulled back again, like it had been in the hospital. She was struck with the rich color of the sweater and how it complemented his eyes. It took some effort to stop looking at him. "Genevieve said you'd like it," he said as a matter of course, as if Genevieve was some old friend of them both. He got up and came closer to Annie, speaking into her ear, "She said you'd want to eat me, if I wore this. I think she was right." Annie knew her deep breaths betrayed her, but she decided not to give him the satisfaction of telling him that his friend had guessed correctly.

"When was the last time you had a meal," he asked her, and she looked up to the ceiling as if she would find the answer there. "I don't know," she responded, seeming to truly not know. "Ok, kitten, that's what I thought. I've got some food on the way."

Soon, a feast was arriving through her door. Fresh fruit, breads, cheese, fragrant soups, more meat than she had ever had in her apartment at one time. Her eyes were wide, just taking it in. She really was very hungry, now that she saw the food there. She began to take bits of it, enjoying the incredible variety he had brought. She was more than unaccustomed to this kind of luxury. She looked over at him. He was eating too, but she could tell from his sly smile, he was watching to see what she'd do. Maybe he was wondering if her long history of poverty and scarcity would show itself, and she would try to save anything that they couldn't eat. He had certainly gotten far more than was needed for two people.

She thwarted his plan, opening the door to her apartment and finding three of his men there, as she expected. She invited them in to eat - "The Joker wanted you to come and eat too," she said, motioning to the food.

The Joker rolled his eyes at her, now eating his fill before his men took it all.

They departed from the steps at the foot of her apartment building, making their way to one of the main thoroughfares of Lower Gotham. "Where are we going?" she said, wondering what the purpose of this outing was.

"Just on a walk, kitten, I thought you liked walks."

"These are strange walking clothes," she said, looking over at him and then down at the ornate embroidery and sequins on the form-fitting red dress.

"Nothing is strange in Gotham now," he said with a smile.

He took her arm in his and they walked onward, mostly ignored by passers by, though some eyes lingered on her overly formal dress. The weather was unusually warm for spring in Gotham, and neither of them required a jacket. He had tossed a light scarf on, presumably to disguise his scars. The weather had lured out many of the residents of Lower Gotham - the streets were busier than she had seen them since the food crisis. She began to feel nervous, knowing from the trajectory of the events she had seen on the news in the hospital that large gatherings in Lower Gotham might not have positive results.

They seemed to be coming upon more and more people as they neared the entrance to one of the bridges, and she soon saw why. Makeshift scaffolding was set up, blocking the roadway, a man on top gesticulating and speaking to the crowd. Chaos surrounded them, some people obviously rushing away from the scene to avoid being drawn up in the mob and others rushing toward it, cheering after each statement he made. He seemed to be voicing complaints about the passport system, pointing out the injustice inherent in it. "Upper Gotham gentlemen and ladies," he said mockingly, "don't need to prove their identity to cross over to our side of the city, but us Lower Gotham 'rats' have to show this special ID and explain why we are crossing to the other side of our own city!" The crowd cheered when he said 'rats,' clearly understanding his reference to Dent's disparaging comment in the leaked audio that came out months ago.

The Joker had grabbed her hand and was leading them closer and closer to the base of the scaffolding, past even the crowd that had gathered in the front row of spectators. "What are you doing?" she asked, concerned. He turned to look back at her and had a wild grin on his face. He had obviously come up with some kind of plan, whether simply mischievous or murderous, she didn't know. "Did you know this was here?" she asked, looking up at the rickety platform as they stepped under it. "No, the people of Gotham did this all by themselves, kitten," he said with excitement in his voice.

The man who had been speaking came down the ladder on the side of the scaffolding, and the Joker strode up to him, somehow hiding the perverse excitement on his face and changing his expression to one of earnestness. She was disconcerted by how quickly he pulled off the transition. Could he always change his personality on command like this?

"That was amazing," he said to the man, as if he was completely taken aback by his eloquence on the platform. "So inspiring. My girlfriend here, her father was killed by the GCPD just two weeks ago. She's been so distraught. She'd really like to say a few words to the crowd." He pulled Annie up beside him, jerking her arm with more than a little strength due to her reticence to come any closer. She simply stood there, wide-eyed.

The man's face was confused but then melted into a generous expression, matching the Joker's feigned earnestness. "Of course. Everyone is welcome here. Go on up."

The Joker turned to her. The light scarf, which wasn't really disguising much anyway, fell down to his chin. "Go on up, sweety. Tell them all about it. I know you have a lot to get off your chest about this." As he ended his words to her, a toothy grin slowly took over the false sincerity of his face. No one could see his expression but her from this angle.

He had seen an opportunity to cause trouble, something irresistible to the Joker, but also, he had been looking for something exactly like this on their walk, some situation he could put her in that would help snap her out of her trance-like state. Being on stage seemed uncomfortable enough to force her to think again, to craft something that would get her out of it.

She stood there, still stunned. "Ok, honey," he said, irritation beginning to edge into his voice. "Up you go!"

He lifted her onto the ladder, placing her hands and feet on the rungs so that she was starting to climb to the to the plywood platform above. She looked back down at him with accusing eyes as she grabbed one rung after the other, the whole structure swaying slightly as she reached the top. It must have been just about one story tall, not a massive height for onlookers, but once she was on top looking down, it seemed quite tall indeed. She had no idea what to say, finding herself standing there on the platform, looking out at the large crowd below. She knew their anger wasn't directed at her, but her ridiculous dress and the seriousness of their faces did not help calm her worries.

The Joker was below chatting with the previous speaker. "Just stage fright, she'll snap out of it."

As she sometimes did in moments of panic, her mind retreated to the words imprinted there since childhood. Her terrified expression turned to one of blank calm, and the murmurs from the crowd began to quiet in expectation. Something about the figure in the red dress seemed like an omen to them. She was a strange vision, like some kind of avenging angel that had appeared there.

Her voice rang out, surprising both for how well it carried and for its femininity in the male-dominated crowd.

"Every valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill shall be made low; and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough places a plain.

"Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I have not come to bring peace, but a sword…"

The simple words seemed to strike a deep chord with the crowd, and they began to cheer with a volume and intensity that not only alarmed Annie, but also caused the Joker to take action. Someone had a gun and a shot rang out into the sky, the mass of people so riled up that they just cheered more with the sound instead of cowering at it.

His tone completely changed from his mischievous teasing earlier as he yelled up to her, "Stop, kitten, get down, now." She obeyed, crawling on her hands and knees to the edge of the platform and endeavoring to get her grasp on the ladder again. She managed to climb halfway down, even with the difficult dress, and then she felt his arms grabbing her from behind and taking her the rest of the way. He set her feet on the ground and grabbed her hand as they looked for a way out. People were rushing underneath the scaffolding, heading toward the central checkpoint on the other side of the bridge. The plywood platform began to teeter and shake with the rushing bodies.

The Joker took her hand and at first ran with the crowd, because there really was no other option. Once the mass of people spread out on the bridge, there was more room to maneuver, and he was able to weave them in and out of the streams of people. He moved so fast, she had trouble keeping up, but he kept a secure grasp on her hand that she knew wouldn't waver. Finally they were out of the rush of people and could turn back to her apartment. They began to walk at a normal pace again, and he swung their hands back and forth like they were on the most lighthearted of strolls. He wore a sly smile, while she had a fearful expression from what she had just witnessed.

"Well, that was very interesting…" he said. She didn't know how to respond, still processing what had happened. When they passed the next alleyway, he suddenly slid off the main street into it, taking her with him. He pulled her close, his hands finding easy purchase on her waist and her thigh under the high slit of the dress. "You were so beautiful there, looking up at that platform with those scared eyes."

[] (Explicit portion removed)

He smiled and took her hand, straightening her dress over the mess he had made of her, and they both ran back in the direction of her building. A smile spread across her face and he could hear her laugh trying to keep up with him, as they ran together down the street, drunk with each other.

Late into the night, the van arrived near Annie's building to take the Joker on a special patrol he had wanted to complete, checking on key locations in the city. This had been a long day for the driver, and he didn't have a lot of patience for the Joker's antics. He headed inside to see what was going on. He soon found himself in the hallway outside her apartment, and not hearing anything from inside, ignored the warnings from the two men stationed there and took matters into his own hands, opening the door. He walked in and called, "Hey, the van…" He immediately regretted it.

The moonlight was the only illumination in the room, but he could easily see the details of their bodies, intertwined and naked. The paint was nearly gone from the Joker's face and it instead marked their bodies like some kind of jungle camouflage, smudges and splashes of it glowing everywhere on their skin in the half-light. They looked over at the intruder at the same time - the Joker with his eyes alert and fiery like a lion on top of its prey, her eyes dazed and misty and her lips parted with heavy breaths. Fear rooted the driver to the spot.

"I'm. Not. Done," the Joker growled darkly, fixing him in his gaze and slowly enunciating every word. The driver shook off the terror that held him and turned quickly, running from the room and into the hallway, sprinting away without a backward glance. He kept running into the streets of Gotham, abandoning the van. He likely left Gotham that night, knowing that the best way to escape the Joker's wrath would be to leave the city.

[] (Explicit portion removed)

Author's note: [spoilers!] I hope I didn't disturb anyone too much with the speed of their relationship development - I just really felt that once Annie's hesitation was gone, the floodgates would open. It made sense to me. Though the Joker here is pretty chatty lol, I thought they would both express themselves better physically than verbally. I apologize if any of this is rough around the edges - it's a new type of writing for me. I think some portions are special and hope at least those came across well.

This is fanfic, so of course I don't own any characters from The Dark Knight (Joker, Batman, etc.). The main female character is original.

Image attributions:

Forest Dietmar Rabich / Wikimedia Commons / “Haltern am See, Hohe Mark -- 2020 -- 6883” / CC BY-SA 4.0

Woodland phlox Jay Sturner from USA, CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Prairie trillium USGS Bee Inventory and Monitoring Lab from Beltsville, Maryland, USA, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Wood sorrell 6th Happiness, CC BY-SA 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

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readythefanons · 5 months ago

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I stand by my previous statement that Klaasje has some banger voice lines, and her VA delivers them beautifully.

I have a lot more thoughts about her specific lines and so on, but I'll shut up for once and let the work speak for itself.

Disco Elysium fan audio track using Klaasje voice lines and royalty free music. Put together in Audacity.

Duration: 3:14.

Voice lines from GrandFrance on YouTube

Music from Pixabay music ("Beautiful things" by Calvin Clavier from Pixabay)

gosh reddy i love these weird audios i'd love to hear more

Transcript below the jump

I'm waiting for the miracle to happen. It'll take one to get me out of the mess I'm in.

Something is happening--in this city. I can feel it when I'm out here at night.

They say there will be an event. That it will happen somewhere here.

"The Return" is part urban myth, part political science.

It's a fool's hope, sir, and it's also all I've got.

Soon. But it's been "soon" for almost half a century now, so... Don't hold your breath.

In Revachol--Revachol West. They say it will happen soon, and that it will change everything.

I came all this way on a false passport and some money. To hide, mostly, in the most volatile part of the Real belt, where it's easiest to disappear. Where the walls are still porous and you can slip through. This is just something to get me through the night, you know? A little espérance.

How do you deal with anything? It's all just... How do you do it?

The return is a big hit in the industrial espionage circles. A lot of desperate, seedy types there. All screwed in this unipolar world.

there's talk. A lot of people like me who need a new color in the map. It's all blue, you see, and that blue doesn't like us.

I love Revachol, though.

I hope she loves me too.

It's a fool's hope. And it's also all I've got.

But at the same time, I mean--things can't go on like this forever. Something will give. It always does.

I do. I'm waiting for the miracle to happen. In Revachol, Revachol West.

#disco elysium #klaasje amandou #klaasje #DE audio project with your pal reddy #if you enjoyed this please let me know

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beefromanoff · 1 year ago

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Project Mockingbird Ch. 6

summary: a little insight into Charlotte's backstory, lots of training.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC

author's note: there are more visuals than I usually use for this chapter, but it's just so fun! let me know what you think and if it's distracting! thanks for reading, xox!

tag list: @bangtanxberm (let me know if you want to be added <3)

chapter list

_________________________________________________________

Six weeks.

It had been three weeks of living at the compound. The longest she’d lived anywhere, except - no. That doesn’t count. She didn’t live there, she was kept there.

In the time since her imprisonment, she’d flitted from place to place, from life to life. Being a quick learner, she slipped into different places almost seamlessly. Her first stint in the real world had been in Siberia, not exactly an ideal place to be. She’d traveled across Europe by train-hopping, stowing away, and hitch-hiking before eventually settling in Austria.

Her mistake was being a little too reckless with her abilities. Though she’d gone relatively unnoticed at first, it was difficult to make it anywhere without money. That’s when she started doing what she did best…fighting. A few underground fights, cash payout. It was a cakewalk. Through a few connections she made in the seedy world of street fighting, she moved up. People wanted to bet on her, knowing they’d win. It fast-tracked her to bigger fights, higher winnings. She’d even given thought to making that her new life, it was something she knew and something she was good at. Something she was made for.

Until she saw the most beautiful, elegant thing she’d ever witnessed. In her studio apartment, rented for her by the man who’d been making a shitload of money off of her fighting, she sat surfing through channels just like every other night. On the screen, a strong, graceful girl hurtled through the air, landing perfectly on a blue mat. It was the first time she’d ever seen gymnastics. Charlotte couldn’t tear her eyes away.

The next morning, she’d packed her limited belongings in a bag and headed for the train station. The man called her 27 times when he realized she’d left. At least, that’s how many she counted before she threw the phone out a train window.

In less than a week, she’d learned everything she could about the gymnastics world, including the fact that the National Championship meet was being held in two weeks in Boston. With no ID, no passport, and no real identity at all - flying internationally wasn’t an option. However, when a cruise ship acrobat had suddenly received an urgent call from her ailing mother and fled to attend to her, Charlotte was there ready to step in. Her “audition” was enough for them to offer her a permanent contract performing on the ship. Politely declining, her only goal was to get to the United States. After ten days of performing for sunburnt tourists on the ship, they docked in the Port of Boston with just enough time to spare.

Knowing she’d need to incentivize the powers that be to allow her to participate in such a prestigious meet as a nobody, she went back to the drawing board. While thinking of how to come into a large sum of cash in less than four days, she overheard a group of Harvard students talking about how they didn’t know how they would ever pass the BAR exam that weekend. In less than 72 hours, she walked out of the last exam with twenty thousand dollars cash in her bag. Four students, desperate and wealthy, had jumped at her offer to take their exams for five grand each. All it took was a night of leafing through their textbooks with a box of takeout in her lap to have it all memorized.

With one day left until the meet, she bought the most beautiful leotard she could find. All black, one long sleeve, beautiful jeweled detailing. She watched footage of old Olympic meets, NCAA gymnasts getting perfect scores, anything she could find online. On the day of the championships, she stood waiting by the front door long before sunrise for the first judge to show up. She offered him ten thousand dollars cash to put her name on the roster for the day. He immediately accepted, leaving Charlotte pleasantly surprised. She’d been prepared to offer the full twenty.

The rest is history. She competed last, swept the meet with perfect scores in every event. Her name was in headlines across the country by the next day, even making it on ESPN.

For a little while, she thought she could have her dream life after all. Thought her abilities could do more than the violence she was bred for. It was beautiful, but it was fleeting. Just before the conclusion of Olympic Trials, she was framed for using performance enhancing drugs and kicked out without ever even being drug tested. She knew gymnastics was a very political sport, and if she could bribe her way in, it was only feasible that someone else could have bribed her out.

So she went back to fighting. This time in Vegas. After a few months of that, her penthouse suite rented indefinitely with three additional safes full of cash, she decided to switch to gambling. Poker and blackjack were her favorites. She’d managed to keep that going for a few weeks before casinos started to pick up on it, not knowing how seriously they took card counting. In her naive newness to the modern world, she thought that winning would be allowed and rewarded. It wasn’t the case. Not in the casino, not in gymnastics. The second someone caught wind of her unfair advantage, even when they couldn’t begin to explain it, she was kicked out. So her life became a run from one ruse to the next, catapulting to the top of whatever she tried and then forcing herself to abandon it as soon as eyebrows started to raise.

Until Nat showed up and finally gave her a chance to stop running.

And that was six weeks ago.

After breaking her conditioning, she’d found a loose routine. One that didn’t involve lying about who she was or figuring out how to conceal all the cash she had without so much as a drivers’ license to open a bank account. These days were good. She’d wake up early with the team, following a different member each day. Since she didn’t really have a role of her own, she helped out where she could. Sometimes watching and assisting Tony in his lab, sometimes watching Steve train the SHIELD agents. Everyone had something to do, a role here. Except Charlotte. Up until now, it didn’t really bother her. She liked the freedom to drift around the compound, not looking over her shoulder. After about a month, however, she was beginning to feel restless.

Which is why she asked to train with the SHIELD agents two weeks ago.

“I thought you didn’t want to be an Avenger?” Nat had raised her eyebrow.

“I don’t,” Charlotte protested. “But I’m…bored, I guess. I don’t have anything to do here. I feel like I’m in the way. If I can train with them, at least I’ll be prepared, you know…if anything happens and you do need me.”

“Something tells me you’re already more prepared than even our veteran agents.”

“Please, Nat, I need to do something.” Her eyes were desperate.

“I’ll talk to Steve.”

The next week, she’d begun training. Alternating between hand to hand combat, weapons’ training, and intelligence tactics, Charlotte was in Heaven. There was a schedule, a routine, and always more to learn. Although not all of the agents felt the warm fuzzies about having her there. The team had chosen to limit the amount of information given on Charlotte for her own privacy, but her performance had left people with suspicions.

“Fuck me.” Agent Bronson mumbled under his breath, stepping forward when his name was called.

Steve frowned. “What was that?”

“Nothing.” He ran a hand through his hair as he climbed into the sparring ring with Charlotte. “Let’s get this over with.” A few of the other agents snickered from the sidelines, relieved their name wasn’t called to be her partner.

“Don’t sound so enthusiastic.” Charlotte rolled her eyes.

“Come on, Rossi, we both know how this is gonna go. Just try to leave me a shred of my masculinity this time.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” She smirked, feet set in a defensive stance. As soon as Agent Bronson began to raise his fists, her eyes tracked every miniscule movement he made. The way his eyes flicked to her feet, debating a leg sweep to take her down. The muscle that tensed in his neck when he prepared to throw a punch. In fractions of a second, her mind cataloged his fighting style, instinctively reacting to dodge and duck all of his attempts.

Eight, nine…She counted each of the blows that whipped past her. Steve had scolded her at the end of the past week, telling her that if she was going to train with the agents, she had to at least try to stay on their level. She told him she’d give each agent a ten swing head start before she went on the offensive. Ten.

When his boot swung over her head, Charlotte dropped to the ground, swinging her leg to knock his planted one out from underneath him. His back smacked the mat, making the spectating agents wince. From her crouched position, she interlocked her legs with his, flipping both of their bodies with the momentum. Agent Bronson was flat on his face before he even knew what happened. In another half second, Charlotte had his arms locked behind his back with her knees driving his shoulders down.

“Fuck.” His voice was muffled as his face pressed into the mat.

“Alright, let him up.” Steve stepped in. Charlotte climbed off, extending a hand to help him up.

“I tried to make it quick and painless.” She grinned, whispering in his ear as he stood.

“Much appreciated.” He grumbled. Of all the agents, Derek Bronson had been one of the more welcoming ones. He had some security from being one of the top performers, but still fell short when it came to Charlotte.

“Okay, team, what can Agent Bronson improve in his hand-to-hand?” Steve looked over the group, waiting for a response. The agents exchanged glances, shuffling their feet. “Anyone?”

No one spoke up for fear of being assigned to spar with Charlotte next, to demonstrate what they thought they could do better. After a few moments of awkward silence, Steve spoke again. “Alright, let’s wrap it up. We’ll resume on Monday. Good work today, agents.” He patted Agent Bronson on the back. “You’re a good sport.”

As the agents filed out of the training room, Charlotte took her time gathering her things. She knew she wouldn’t be invited to wherever the group of agents chose to get dinner and happy hour drinks outside the compound, so she preferred not to see them make the plans at all.

“You bored yet?” Steve crossed his arms and smiled.

“Do I look bored?”

“You looked bored the second day you got here.”

She laughed. “I’m not, actually. I really enjoy it. I could do this all day.” She winked, using Cap’s favorite line against him.

“I know you can, that’s the problem. Why don’t you train with us?” He held his hands up defensively. “Just train, that’s all. You don’t have to go off base, but it would be a little more of a challenge than this.”

Charlotte narrowed her eyes, thinking. “I’ll try it out. But don’t get mad at me when you end up like Bronson.”

This time, it was Steve who laughed. “I’m a decent sport, too.”

_____________________

The next morning, Charlotte and Bucky jogged around the lake, having lost track of their laps an hour ago.

“Good God, do you ever get tired?” He groaned as she ran past the trail that lead back to the compound, beginning another lap.

“Eventually.” She smirked over her shoulder. “Keep up, old man.”

He caught back up to her, throwing a dirty look. “We’re the same age.”

“Semantics.”

“Alright, one more mile and I’m calling it. I want to do more with my day than run in circles.”

Charlotte shot him a mischievous look. “Race ya.”

They took off running back into the woods.

_____________________

The training room of the Avengers Compound buzzed with anticipation as Charlotte stepped into the ring, her eyes focused, albeit a little arrogant. Though the buzz of her first session with the Avengers’ had made its way around the compound, they elected to keep it a closed session. The group of them was clad in their black training uniforms, meant to mimic the weight and feel of their combat suits. Since Charlotte didn’t have her own yet, she wore another of Natasha’s. Each suit was specially engineered for the one who wore it, meant to accommodate their specific skill set. Nat’s was thinner, lightweight and flexible. Sam’s was double lined to keep him warm in high altitudes. Bucky’s suit had a cutout for his left arm, allowing full range of motion for the prosthetic.

Sam, with his usual charismatic grin, stepped into the ring first. "I’ll take it easy on you, alright?" he held the ropes open, allowing her to step in.

"I wouldn’t." Charlotte replied, her eyes glinting with challenge.

The spar commenced. Sam lunged forward, his wings extending to give him an advantage in reach. But before he could react, Charlotte sidestepped, her movements fluid. With a swift motion, she dropped to her knees and slid beneath the reach of his rings, grabbed his arm and twisted, putting him in a painful bind that dropped him to his knees.

"Damn girl," Sam breathed, his eyes wide with surprise.

"T’was a pleasure," Charlotte replied, releasing him and mock curtseying, barely out of breath at all.

Next up the Black Widow herself. She stepped in the ring with an air of confidence, her eyes sharp and assessing. She must have noticed how Charlotte balked, not wanting to overstep on her first friend, the reason she was here in the first place. "Don’t you dare take it easy on me," Natasha reprimanded.

“If you say so.” Charlotte gave a small smile, preparing for action. Faster than Sam, Nat put her weight back on her left foot, aiming a kick at Charlotte's midsection.

Charlotte spun to her right, evading the kick. Nat was already striking again, punching across her body. Charlotte blocked, dropping her elbow in the crook of Nat’s arm, bending it and bringing them within inches of each other. Both women moving at once, their legs interlocked in the same takedown attempt. They rolled once on the floor, a blur of black neoprene.

While Natasha was one of the most skilled Avengers in hand-to-hand combat, Charlotte was stronger, pinning the redhead down as they came to a stop. She held her forearm to Nat’s throat, knees pinning her arms down.

"Impressive," she croaked, a flicker of admiration in her eyes. Charlotte stood and helped Nat to her feet.

“Right back at you.” Charlotte’s chest rose and fell, breathing hard.

Then came Peter Parker, all enthusiasm and boyish charm. "You ready for this?" he asked, a grin on his face.

"Are you?" Charlotte replied, smirking.

Attempting to go for the element of surprise, Peter shot a web at her feet, aiming to immobilize her. Having seen his tell, a clenched jaw and eye flick to the place he wanted to shoot the webs, she knew it was coming. Somersaulting forward, she rolled over the web blast and closed the distance between them. Without rising back off the ground, she delivered a swift kick to the back of his legs, buckling them and dropping him to his knees. As soon as he fell, she wrapped her arm around his neck from behind, pulling him onto his back on top of her. Each of her legs hooked around his arms, pinning them to the ground so he was at an impossible angle to web her. He froze, momentarily stunned.

"You're so fast," Peter breathed, eyes wide.

“So I’ve been told.” She untangled her legs from his arms and he climbed to his feet, offering her a hand.

Finally, it was Steve’s turn, the one who’d convinced her to do this in the first place. "A little more fun than the agents?" he joked.

“I guess you could say that.” Charlotte tensed, knowing he would be the toughest of the three prior.

The spar was intense, each blow whistling through the air as she dodged it, power oozing from his every movement. Charlotte anticipated Steve's moves with uncanny accuracy, her eyes keenly observant of his every shift in stance. Steve, in turn, pushed her limits, testing her stamina as the clock ticked on. His style was classic, controlled. He relied on speed and strength more than exceptional skill or strategy.

The round went on longer than the previous three combined, Charlotte getting Steve in a near-pinned position three times, but unable to overpower him enough to keep him down.

This time, she took a different approach. Steve swung with a hard right hook, and instead of dodging what she knew was coming, she stood her ground and took it. His fist collided with her jaw, blood immediately bursting from her split lip. Her head snapped to the side, but she didn’t lose her footing.

“Oh, my God, Charlotte, are you okay?” Steve broke his defensive posture, eyes full of guilt.

Exactly the reaction she wanted.

In two moves, she swung her leg up, momentum carrying her into the air. Her legs wrapped around his neck and she twisted, throwing him to the ground. He landed flat on his back with a resounding thud, her shin pressed to his neck.

"You're good," Steve admitted, a grin tugging at his lips. "Although some may say that’s cheating."

"All’s fair in love and war," Charlotte replied, blood dripping off of her face from the busted lip.

The other Avengers, watching with keen interest, broke into applause, their admiration evident. Nat cheered the loudest, recognizing her signature move in the final takedown.

Bucky stepped forward and approached the ring, offering Charlotte a towel for her bloody face. “That looks like hell.”

“But kinda badass, right?” She smiled, showing her blood-stained teeth.

“Something like that.”

Charlotte, slightly breathless but clearly exhilarated, wiped her face and stood to face Natasha, waiting to give her kudos.

Bucky turned to Steve with a sly grin, clearly amused. "Well, well, Steve," he teased, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Losing to a girl half your size. What would Coach Tyler say?"

Steve gave an incredulous look. “Our high school wrestling coach, really?” He rolled his eyes. "Why don't you give it a shot, Buck? Let's see how you fare against that girl that’s also half your size." He raised his voice at the end, baiting Charlotte.

Bucky cracked his knuckles, his metal arm glinting under the training room lights. He stepped into the ring, eyeing Charlotte with a playful glint in his eyes. "Hope you're ready for this, sweetheart," he said, his tone mockingly confident.

Charlotte met his challenge with a smirk, her confidence unwavering. "I don’t know if you’ve forgotten, Barnes, but I was made for this."

He grimaced ever so slightly, still not used to the flippant way she spoke about her tortuous past. The team had heard more about HYDRA in her six weeks at the compound than in Bucky’s five years. Clearly she coped with trauma differently than he did.

The two circled each other in the ring, the air crackling with anticipation. Eyes locked on each other, Charlotte raised an eyebrow and licked blood off her lips. Bucky lunged forward, his movements swift and controlled. Charlotte dodged his advances with ease, her lithe form moving as fast as his fists. She countered his strikes, her blows precise and calculated, although they didn’t seem to phase him in the slightest. Their movements were lightning fast, the spectating Avengers’ having trouble tracking the action. It was clear neither of them held back the challenge too tantalizing to back down from. The two didn’t spend a ton of time together outside of group settings, save for the occasional run, but they seemed to get along well. Their shared sense of grim humor was the catalyst for most interactions.

Bucky tried to catch her off guard, but Charlotte anticipated his every move. He advanced on her, swinging with near lethal force. She executed a series of back handsprings, narrowly avoiding his attacks. The ring seemed to blur with her swift movements, a small nod to her brief stint in the gymnastics world.

"Show-off," Bucky remarked, his admiration evident.

Charlotte grinned. "Impressed?"

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

Their spar escalated, each move met with a countermove. Bucky utilized his strength, attempting to overpower her, but Charlotte danced around him, always one step ahead. She was incredibly light on her feet, her agility allowing her to evade his strikes effortlessly. Where he was strong and intense, she was quick and fleeting. She landed more blows, but they barely even registered. He swung harder, but she stayed out of reach.

After almost twenty minutes of intense combat, both combatants found themselves in a deadlock, neither of them able to budge. Flat on his back, Bucky's arm stuck up in the air, his metal hand wrapped around Charlotte’s throat. She perched above his chest, one shin pressed into his throat, the other leg braced on the ground, giving her leverage to push down harder. Their breathing became ragged as neither one conceded, fighting for oxygen as they continued to right each other.

“Should we -” Steve murmured to Natasha, brows knit together.

“Let’s see how this plays out.” She narrowed her eyes. “Worst case, they both pass out.”

Steve frowned but said nothing.

In the ring, Charlotte tasted the salt of sweat mixed with the lingering metallic taste of blood. She grit her teeth and drove her shin further down onto Bucky’s throat. He grunted but didn’t concede, gripping her throat tighter. Sweat had caused a few strands of his dark hair to stick to his forehead.

The corners of her vision were beginning to go dark, the sounds of the training room sounding like they were fading away. Charlotte saw the blood vessels in Bucky’s eyes reddening and knew he wasn’t far behind her. Their eyes locked, a battle of wills and stubborn pride. Bucky felt her wobble ever so slightly and made a snap decision.

“Truce?” He croaked. She paused, ever so slightly, debating if she could somehow spin this into a fifth victory of the day before her lack of oxygen overruled.

“Truce.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper through the vice grip he had on her neck. They paused for a second longer, eyes narrow, as if neither one of them trusted the other. Finally, they both released their grip, Charlotte tumbling to the mat beside him. Both chests heaved, their senses flooding back as their oxygen was no longer restricted.

Charlotte looked to her right and grinned. “You called a truce.”

Bucky, still flat on his back beside her, narrowed his eyes. “I’d feel bad choking out the new girl the first time we sparred.”

“Whatever stops the tears.” She winked.

The other Avengers applauded, climbing into the ring with them. Natasha and Steve pulled them to their feet. “Just when we thought no one was more stubborn than you, Barnes.”

Bucky chuckled, shooting a glance at Charlotte. "She’s tougher than she looks."

“Wish I could say the same for you.” She raised her eyebrows, eyes fiery. His eyes scanned her face, amused. Just like in the hospital room over a month ago, she swore she saw his eyes flick to her lips for just a split second.

The team’s enthusiasm drowned out their banter, equal parts shit-talking and compliments flying. Someone handed her a bag of ice for her chin. One one side, Peter was asking her to teach him a back handspring and on the other, Sam was mimicking her doe-eyed look to Steve right after he socked her. All of it was good-natured, all of it was warm. Even with the throbbing in her jaw and pounding in her head from almost passing out, she was happy.

So much better than the goddamn SHIELD agents.

#james bucky barnes #avengers #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x oc #bucky fanfic #winter soldier #bucky fluff #sebastian stan #winter soldier fluff #winter solider x reader

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royallyprincesslilly · 2 years ago

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Title: 3 Days, 4 Nights: Day One {Three Shot}

Title: 3 Days, 4 Nights: Day One {1}

Alfie Enoch x Reader

Warning: Mild Cursing, Plot

Words: 1.8k

Synopsis: You’re getting ready to start filming your latest project, the much-anticipated remake of “The Blue Lagoon” but because you’ve been hustling so hard, you’ve taken a much-needed vacation to recharge and cut loose. The vacation package brochure said, “Come to Brazil the land of beautiful people, beautiful beaches, and captivating architecture and experience all the country has to offer, we guarantee an unforgettable stay.” So that’s what you did. You had no idea just how unforgettable your stay would be. Day one a beautiful stranger with haunting eyes captivates you.

Note: Yaaaaaay, more Alfie!!!! Expect plenty more as I’ve discovered new to me pics of him and new-to-me facts about him. Fell deep in the rabbit hole of him the other night. This will be a 3 parter following each day.

Note II: There will be Google-translated Brazillian Portuguese in this fic. The text that is highlighted beside the Portuguese is the English translation. If it is incorrect, I apologize, and let’s all blame Google. Hopefully, it isn’t wrong.

Thank you guys for reading, I hope you enjoy this!

If you enjoyed this, please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG.

***NOT Edited/Proofread**

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Chapter One: Welcome to Rio-Day One

“Eu espero que você aproveite a sua estadia.” {I hope you enjoy your stay}, the hotel front desk attendant said with a bright smile as she handed you back your passport along with your room key card and a folder.

“Muito obrigado.” {Thank you so much}, you replied returning her smile.

The lobby of the hotel was in full festive swing. Across the way to the left, there was a group of musicians playing instruments which filled the lobby with the sounds of steel drums, something that looked like a tambourine but slightly different, a musical bow looking contraption and a guitar. Altogether it sounded very close to samba music but with a tropical twist. You loved it.

“Your Portuguese is sufficient but I speak English,” the attendant said.

You released a breath. You’d been practicing for the last month and a half in prep for the movie you were going to be filming around the smaller islands and locations but you were nowhere near confident in yourself to proclaim yourself fluent or even conversational.

“Thank goodness. I’m sorry if I’m butchering your beautiful language.”

She giggled then waved you off. “You aren’t, I promise. I’m impressed you even tried. Portuguese is not an easy language to master.”

“Tell me about it. I’m trying though.”

A man in similar garb to what the attendant wore approached you with a warm smile.

“Eu tenho suas malas, por favor, siga-me.” {I have your bags, please follow me}

You glanced back to the attendant knowing when you were out of your depth. She smiled then translated for you. Nodding, you thanked the man and followed him as he wheeled you through the lobby and around the many guests standing around and watching the musical performance. Once in the elevator, you got lost in your phone checking your emails and messages. You’d been getting plenty of emails from your agent the last few weeks as filming for “The Blue Lagoon” drew nearer and nearer.

You’d seen the originals and had always loved them for their simplicity. When you heard they were remaking them you jumped to audition but didn’t hold your breath that you’d be called back or even selected. If history was any indicator you expected the role to go to some tall, slim, little to no melaninated actress who had more star power and more of a stronger backing. You’d been in LA for three years and had done mainly commercials, modeling gigs, and C-level sci-fi movies.

So when you’d gotten the call back you were shocked. Then the second call back stunned you even more. By the time your agent called to give you the news that you’d been chosen you were speechless. The news had come mere days before you were going to make the decision to throw in the towel, leave LA and go back home to figure out your next move.

“Esse caminho por favor. Este é o seu quarto.” {This way please. This is your room}

You understood maybe four words but it was enough for you to follow him as he used your key card to open your room at the end of the hall. You thanked him then walked in first and couldn’t help but gasp.

“My god.”

The view before you was incredible. The lush green of the palm trees framed the picturesque blues and sandy browns of the beach and the Atlantic. From this high up it was enough to leave you in awe.

“Bonito não é?” {Beautiful, isn’t it?}

“Sim, muito muito bonito.” {Yes, very, very beautiful.}

A few moments later, the man handed you back your key card then bowed his head before he left. Walking closer to the nearest window, you opened the sliding door and stepped onto the balcony then took a deep breath. The salt from the ocean mixed with coconuts and the sweet smell of pastries and you sighed.

“Three days and four nights of this. Just what the doctor ordered.”

An hour or so later you found yourself wandering around taking in everything you could. The city was so lively and loud you knew that there had to be tons of pockets of culture and normalcy for you to take in. You’d read an old interview of one of your favorite celebrities where they said they wished they would have soaked up traveling like a local rather than a tourist when they could because getting to know a city for what it really was couldn’t be beaten. That had stuck with you and whenever you traveled you preferred to do the less touristy things.

From the corner of your eye, you spotted a fruit cart and hurried over to order an assortment of the top local fruits. You watched as the cart owner prepared sliced pineapple, guava, papaya, and mango and placed them into a large plastic cup. She then drizzled a mixture over the top then held it out to you. Smiling, you accepted and handed her the money then went on your way. Upon first bite, you realized the drizzle was a mixture of lemon and lime juice and salt. You moaned as the sweet fruit juices washed over your tongue then melded with the tang of the drizzle. You already didn’t want to leave.

Soon, you got lost going from cart to cart looking at crafts, tools, clothes, accessories, fruits, foods, and even masks. You were like a hummingbird flitting all over the place inhaling everything about the city that you could. If one was to judge a country based on its food alone then Brazil was top-notch.

“Garota linda! {Beautiful Girl!}”

The shout was so loud it boomed over the chaos of the street. You glanced in the direction of the voice and found a man in a colorful mesh top and white pants waving you down with one hand while his other hand continued beating against the pad of a drum. You approached the man and watched as the ones with him expertly played their instruments. The sound was beautiful and easily made you feel like you were right where you were—in one of the music capitals of the world.

He smiled and said something else you didn’t understand before he motioned to your lower half.

“I’m sorry I don’t—.”

“He said dance.”

You spun around to find a tall man towering over you by at least a foot. His hair was a neat but messy curled afro that matched his beard and mustache. Hypnotizing amber eyes stared at you with a glint of humor in them. You felt like you’d seen him before but you couldn’t place from where. There was something familiar about him in an unfamiliar way. One thing that could not be missed was his attractiveness.

“Uh—dance?”

“You know how right?”

“Well—I do but--,” you protested.

“But what? You either know how or you don’t.”

“Mova esses quadris!”

You looked back to the man beating the drums then back to the newcomer who’d translated moments before. He was also smiling.

“Move those hips,” he translated.

Without you realizing it, a crowd had formed and they were now clapping trying to motivate you.

“Oh garoto, siga minha liderança, {Oh boy, follow my lead.}” the tall dark and handsome man said before he approached you holding out his hands

“Posso?”

“Huh?”

“May I?”

Slowly, you nodded then he placed one hand at your waist and the other on your back. He then pushed your waist inward while thrusting your back forward.

“You’re too stiff. The first thing to learn in Brazillian dancing is in order to have any rhythm you have to feel the music and always be fluid.”

“Okay.”

“Rotate your hips like you’re hula-hooping.”

“What?”

He smirked, “Trust me.”

“I just met you.”

“Exactly and I’m the one who stepped up so you don’t make a fool out of yourself and have them making fun of you in a language you don't understand.”

He nudged his head to a group of older women who were watching you with nothing but amusement.

“Okay,” you conceeded.

You imagined a hula-hoop around your waist and you began circling your hips. First slowly then you got into the rhyme of the instruments. When your eyes met the man before you he looked impressed.

“Wow. Not some stiff americana tourista I see. You know you have hips. Next are the steps. Follow me.”

You watched his feet as he did a cool two-step that turned into a slightly complicated four-step. He did it again and again and again until you slowly caught on.

“Good. Keep your hips moving letting your legs lead. The dance is important to the music, it tells a story. Think you have it?”

You nodded.

“Let’s see.”

You mimicked everything he did while trying your best to keep your hips in motion to the rapidly changing music. The crowd around you began to cheer and clap and that was when you knew you had it.

“Good. Now faster.”

You tried your best to keep up with him but when his legs moved like he were some sort of otherworldly creature you knew there was no way to keep up. The crowd laughed but applauded you. The amber-eyed man chuckled and joined in applauding you. You smiled and spun around feeling like you’d just put on an award-winning performance. Suddenly, you felt heat by your ear and you probably should have been a little put-off, but you weren't.

“I see there’s hope you just might get some Brazillian into you while you’re here.”

You didn’t know if it was the depth of his voice that elicited the reaction or his wording choice but an intense shiver ripped through you making your stomach drop but not in disappointment. This was something else. When you turned to face him, there was no one. Your eyes scanned the street but the sea of people made it impossible to find him. The only thing in your mind was a question.

Who was that?

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