#but I think that sensitive toenail was to blame

[millerflintstone]

Blissed out during her Assisi Loop treatment for pain relief

[fragmentedink-archived]

Hell to Pay: Part Five

I, II, III, IV

In the morning, Lev discovered he'd been moved under the covers. It took a few minutes of sleepy confusion, but he eventually woke up enough to recognize Amara's scent. What his cousin had been doing here was anybody's guess, but Lev relaxed anyway. Amara'd never leave him somewhere he wasn't safe. Not that he hadn't felt safe before, but it was nice to have reassurance.

Lev snuggled deeper into the bed, wondering if he could doze off again. After a few minutes, he gave up and slithered out of bed. He made it up, fussing with the covers until he was satisfied there wasn't a wrinkle to be found. Only then did he shrug out of his mother's jacket and pad carefully out the bedroom door barefoot.

The sentries didn't bat an eye as he crept out the door. He watched them as he slunk past, but when no one jumped at him he scuttled down the hall. He wasn't sure if anyone was up, but he had run away last time he was in this house, and he was curious.

He didn't open any doors; if they were shut, he left them be. Maybe he'd get Nik to give him a tour, whenever Nik got up. Until then, though, he shuffled through the manor, peeking in open rooms and wondering what time it was. His phone had died and he hadn't seen a clock yet.

When he got to the kitchen he realized it wasn't empty. Cameron was busy, making bread, if Lev was guessing right. Making bread... naked. Lev blinked. He'd be more distracted if he hadn't been staring at the awful mess that was Cameron's back. No one could blame Cameron for not wanting anything against that. Even if it wasn't bleeding it did look tender, and bruised, and it hadn't looked that bad at the beach, and-

“If you’re going to be in here, sit down.”

Lev flinched, gaze dropping automatically. When he finally managed to look up, Cameron hadn’t even glanced in his direction. Lev slunk over to one of the chairs closest to Cameron, and perched, tucking his feet underneath him.

“How long have you been up?” Lev asked hesitantly, just to have something to say. When he didn’t get an answer, he shrunk back in the chair a little. Fair enough. Better than being snapped at. He fiddled with the hem of his shirt, already wondering about when he should head home. As nice as Cameron had been, coming to get him when Lev had fallen apart, Lev couldn’t expect that hospitality to last forever. That was rude.

Cameron plopped a plate down in front of him, and turned away again, giving Lev a wonderful view of his ass. When Lev finally glanced back at the plate, he found bread so fresh he could feel the warmth it gave off, and some cheese and fruit too. Well. It’d be rude not to eat. Lev picked up a slice and started to nibble, watching Cameron wide eyes.

Cameron’s back looked worse than when Lev had seen it at the beach, and it was taking a lot not to offer to help again. He’d gotten his no, and he should respect it. Even if he did think that whatever demonic healers Cameron had could never really measure up to an angel’s healing gifts.

He made it through a slice of bread and several grapes before he cleared his throat. “Cameron?” He tried. When he didn’t get an answer, he said, a little louder, “Cameron.”

“What?”

Lev flinched, ducking his chin automatically. Good omegas didn’t annoy alphas, they-

Lev swallowed, stuffing those thoughts away. He’d been getting better about that. There was no reason to start slipping now.

“What?” Cameron’s tone was a shade gentler, which in and of itself was surprising. Lev forced himself to look up.

“I just... I wondered when you wanted me to...” Lev chewed on his lip for a moment, trying to pick the politest way to phrase it. “When you wanted me to go home? I don’t- I don't want to overstay my welcome?”

“Who says you get to leave?” Cameron asked.

Lev stilled. He pressed his mouth into a thin line to stop his lips from trembling. That had to be a joke. “What?” He finally asked.

Cameron snorted. “Leave whenever you want. I’m not your keeper.”

Lev started to relax. A joke then, or the closest Lev could imagine Cam could get to one. Cameron’s next words gave him pause though.

“But I wouldn’t advise going back.”

“Why not?” Lev blurted. That was his home. Even if he was unhappy there, it was all he knew. Cameron couldn’t really expect him to just stay here, could he?

"You were crying in a closet with all your doors locked. Clearly you didn't feel safe in your house. But if you want to be idiotic, don't let me stop you."

Lev rolled a grape between his fingers. Cameron had a point, but... “I was probably being paranoid. I... I do that a lot, and nothing’s really happened to me. I just get- I get so- I get so anxious, and it takes over everything. And then I feel stupid for having let that- for letting it take over when I know logically nothing’s really wrong.”

When he looked up again, there was no sympathy in Cameron’s expression. “If you get yourself hurt, don’t expect me to come and rescue you this time.”

Lev blinked at him. “I didn’t expect you to come this time.” He set the grape down. “I don’t expect anything from you. I promise. You’ve done more for me than... than some people I thought were friends. I don’t know how I can... how I can say thank you. Or make it up to you.”

“You shouldn’t expect anything from anyone. It’s a good way to wind up dead.”

Even after a full minute of staring at Cameron, Lev had no idea how to respond to that. “I’m sorry,” he eventually said, looking down again.

“Stop talking and eat.”

Lev didn’t know what else to do, so he obeyed. He was hungry anyway, and he really did need to make up for yesterday.

------

Cameron watched Lev duck down and start nibbling on the still warm bread that Cameron had pulled out of the oven not thirty minutes before. If Lev kept apologizing Cameron was going to break out in hives. It was getting annoying. But he couldn’t apologize with something in his mouth.

The kitchen doors swung open and Nik nearly staggered through. Cameron and Lev both looked over at the walking trainwreck at the same time. Nik was in a pair of black leather jeans that sat at his hips and a pair of pitch black sunglasses, his hair a wild mess atop his head. “How is it,” he asked, “that you are more underdressed than I am?”

“You fell asleep in your clothes,” Cameron said unbothered, ignoring Lev choking on his bread. “I’m surprised you’re even awake, considering I have to wake your feathered ass up every afternoon.”

Nik waved him off and belined for the coffee maker. He grimaced at the empty pot. “Stars, who’s dick do I got to suck to get some damn coffee?”

“Mine,” Cameron said, dryly enough Nik actually looked at him.

“Can it wait though? I want coffee first.”

Cameron rolled his eyes. “Stop bitching and make coffee. No one forced you to get wasted with Amara.”

Nik opened and closed his mouth. He pointed at Cameron. “We were doing very important business things,” he said defensively.

“Were you? Or were you freeloading my booze?”

Nik seemed a little uncomfortable. He looked back at the coffeemaker, trying to change the line of conversation; Cameron let him. “So, how long is the Damsel staying here?”

“Until he decides to be an idiot and leave,” Cameron said, returning to the bread he was kneading. He wasn’t going to force Lev here, same way he wasn’t going to force Nik to be here. But that did not mean he was going to feel particularly bad about anything that should happen if they decide to leave his safety net.

Nik hummed his amusement before getting a mug and starting his coffee. Cameron watched the muscles move in Nik’s tattooed back, he watched Nik stretch out and unfurl his dark red wings before bringing them back in once more. Nik muttered something in spanish.

Lev cleared his throat. “I- I can fix that, if you want? Your hangover?”

Cameron looked over at Lev. Those bright golden eyes were shining with sincerity, face open, if a little anxious. Though, Cameron guessed that was just a default look for the omega. Nik glanced at Lev while pouring himself a cup. “Just can’t help it can you. Stars, my dad would love you.”

Cameorn did not think that was a compliment, Nik probably didn’t mean it as a compliment either. But Lev was still confused all the same. Cameron finished up the dough and put it in the pan for the oven. “He’s saying you’re obedient,” he said. “Nik move, you’re in the way.”

Nik took a step back so Cameron could put the bread in the oven. He got started on clean up, when Lev softly said, “Omegas are supposed to be obedient.”

Nik scoffed in disgust, but just brought the coffee cup to his lips. Nik probably had heard the same rhetoric, but clearly he chose to ignore it. If he hadn’t, Nik would not be in this house right now. He wouldn’t be sleeping with Cameron, and he most definitely would not be in a relationship with him. “I’ll pass,” Nik drawled. “I’m a big boy.” He looked at Cameron from over his sunglasses. “And how long have you been up? When I woke up the pillow was cold.”

Cameron tried to shrug, but pain laced down his arms. He bit back the choked off spasm. “A few hours, give or take.”

His back had been too sensitive, too painful, to sleep long. Even in his demon form, even with Nik beside him, he was still waking up wheezing until he got to the point of giving up and just getting out of bed.

Cameron couldn’t see what Nik’s eyes were like behind his sunglasses, but he knew pure hatred when he saw it. Even if it was gone in half a heartbeat. Nik took a long drink from his mug and went to look at Cameron’s back. He knew there were splashes of black bruising all across his shoulder blades, probably down to the base 0of his back too. “Don’t touch me,” Cameron said, automatically.

“Wasn’t going to,” Nik said, easily. “Probably wouldn’t hurt so bad if you just let Lev heal you. But you’d probably rather get your toenails ripped off, first.”

Lev sighed so quietly, Cameron almost didn’t catch it. Cameron forced himself to turn his head and look at him. Lev’s gold eyes were wide with horror. But at the look Cameron was giving him, he wisely kept his mouth shut. “I don’t need a damn angel to heal me,” Cameron said, moving the pans to the sink.

“We’re better at healing,” Nik said, leaning against the counter.

“You’re not,” Cameron replied, not bothering to look at him.

Nik stared at him. “Hitting below the belt early, I see.” He looked at Lev. “Don’t take it personally. He’s just a prick when he’s in excruciating pain.” He looked back pointedly at Cameron. “Masochism tends to run in his family, it would seem.”

Lev made a small, distressed sound. “I can help? Please? I’m- good. A good healer.”

Cameron turned around and looked at him. He did not enjoy how long it took. Lev shrunk back at the dark look Cameron gave him. “Do I look like someone that wants to be indebted to an angel?” He already owned Nik so much, and he was bound to keep it that way. To just one angel. “Besides, I thought good, obedient omegas didn’t defile themselves with demons.”

Lev looked down at the counter, shoulders curved in, just slightly. “I’m sorry,” he automatically said.

Both he and Nik said, “Stop apologizing.”

“I just wanted to help,” Lev said, in a small voice.

Nik’s mouth tugged, but he just took a long drink from his coffee. He downed the last of it, and went to get more. “Poor bastard,” he said, greatly amused. “Stuck in a house with two emotionally bankrupt assholes. Stars, what a life.”

Cameron snorted. “If he doesn’t like it, he can leave.” He considered, eyes going over the mess on the counter. “You want to help? Clean up the mess; I need to bathe.” Lev instantly got up, eager to have something to do. Cameron grimaced. “I’ll be back to check on your progress.”

He ignored the look pinned between his shoulder blades by Nik and took off for the washroom. The sentries’ admiring eyes followed him back- but he ignored those looks too. He flooded the lights on and began drawing water. Cameron couldn’t stop himself from gasping at the lightning shooting down his back and arms and legs.

-------

Nik could not stop himself from staring after Cameron. To have Cameron let someone other than himself clean his kitchen spoke volumes for the level of pain he was in. Nik turned to Lev, who was busily moving dishes to the sink to be washed. “Hey, heal me will you?”

Lev looked at him, surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He wanted to not have a jackhammer going at his forehead when he followed Cameron. Lev instantly came over and brushed his fingertips against Nik’s temple. When the pain subsided, and it was safe to remove his sunglasses, Nik kissed Lev’s cheek before following after Cameron.

Cameron was slowly- so painfully slowly- getting into the tub by the time Nik came in. He looked at the door. Despite the pounding in his chest, Nik shut and locked the door; he didn’t want anyone in here. Cameron looked over at him, unimpressed. “What are you doing here?”

“You need help.”

“No I don’t.”

“I thought you didn’t lie to me,” Nik said, unbuckling his belt. “That stoic bullshit doesn’t work on me, and you know it. You know you’re not supposed to be straining yourself. It’ll just make your back worse and then I’ll have to deal with you being a colossal prick to everyone. But more importantly to me.”

Those pale, unblinking blue eyes didn’t flicker. Nik’s hands stayed on his belt until Cameron leaned back in the tub. He took that as permission to keep going. Nik discarded his pants and climbed into the porcelain tub with him. It was big enough for his wings, at least. Nik would not have gone near a small tub to save his life.

The water was scalding, but Nik dunked a cup and went to pour the water over Cameron’s head. But Cameron said, “What do you get out of this?”

Nik was so caught off guard he pulled back and looked at him. “What?”

“Don’t be daft,” Cameron said. “You’re not that stupid.”

There was a compliment somewhere in there. Nik shrugged, and went back to pouring water over Cameron’s white gold hair. Cameron could be so damned thick, sometimes. But he wasn’t going to indulge him, either.

After getting through Cameron’s hair, Nik moved onto Cmaeron’s body. There was one tattoo and that was on the inside of Cameron’s wrist- usually where he wore his watch. Nik knew enough about Demon Politics to know what that tattoo meant; that he used to basically be owned by someone. Cameron had been used as a pawn by both his parents, to further end their own agendas. Nik hadn’t asked what all he had been forced to do, and he didn’t want to know, either.

Nik couldn’t help but watch the water droplets that lined Cameron’s eyelashes slide down the sides of his cheekbones. Cameron lifted his eyes to meet Nik’s. “What?”

“Nothing,” Nik said, quickly. “Turn around.”

He didn’t miss the way Cameron’s body trembled as he turned around. Nik’s face slackened at the sight in front of him. The skin was nearly black near the wounds, and the bruising only got worse the further they went. “Okay,” Nik said, voice not quite his own. “I’m. I’m going to start, okay?”

Cameron nodded slightly. “Hurry up.”

Cameron flinched violently as Nik brought the rag to his back. He was barely touching him at all. Stars, no wonder he had been awake for hours. Nik wouldn’t be able to sleep either had he been trying to breathe through back pain. Nik bit back his apology. He knew he was deliberately hurting Cam, but they had no other option- unless he'd let Lev heal him, but that didn’t happen. And most likely wouldn’t happen. “We’re almost done. Just - we’re almost done.”

Great. Now he was stuttering. “Rinsing now,” Nik said. Cameron ducked his head, shoulder’s tight as he braced himself. Nik watched the muscles in Cam’s biceps seize and lock in place as the water slipped down Cameron’s pale bruise splashed back. “Okay- almost done.”

“Will you stop saying that,” Cameron rasped. “It’s getting redundant.”

Nik muttered under his breath and rinsed until the soap was completely off his skin. Where it wasn’t black and grey from bruises, it was flushed and bright from the heat of the water. Nik quickly got out of the tub and went for one of the black towels in the cupboard. He came back and put the towel on the toilet before reaching over for Cameron’s arm. Nik guided it behind his neck. “Brace yourself.”

“You keep saying stupid things,” Cameron muttered. Nik ignored him and hauled him out of the tub. Camerpn wheezed and sat on the tub ledge. “Maybe a shower would have been easier,” he said to himself.

“Probably not,” Nik said, grabbing the towel. “The constant water pressure against your back would just aggravate your back worse than it already is.”

Nik started drying him off; his legs, arms, chest. Nik looked up to see Cameron looking down at him. His face was unusually open, but it was still unreadable. Those pale eyes, they were so light they were almost clear with the smallest splash of blue. Nik swallowed thickly, his eyes unwillingly going to Cameron’s lips. He knew that Cameron’s… attractiveness was in large part to his abilities, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still hot as hell. And his mouth was curved just right. “...Tell me no,” Nik said, wrenching his eyes up to his. “Tell me no.”

Cameron’s face shifted so slightly he almost didn’t catch it. He brushed his long, practiced fingers across Nik’s cheek, his thumb across Nik’s lip. Nik’s heart pounded in his chest- he didn’t know why the hell he was so nervous about this. A damn kiss was nothing. But a kiss from Cameron-

He leaned down and kissed Nik softly on the mouth. Nik was still surprised by how soft Cameron’s mouth was, even if he had kissed him a few times. But it was never enough for him. But he made do with what he had, because he was not going to push Cameron on this. Literally everything else, he was more than willing to butt heads with Cameron over. But not this.

Nik braced his hands on the sides of the tub. The porcelain was still hot from the water, but he leaned up and pushed back into Cameron’s mouth. Nik wasn’t sure when the next time this would happen, so he was going to make the most of it now.

Cameron’s slender fingers curled behind his neck, thumb brushing the length of Nik’s jaw. Nik only pulled back when his lungs began to protest. He gulped air deep into his lungs. “You- you’ve never kissed me like that before.”

Cameron lifted a brow. “I’ve kissed you like three times before,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but, that was different.”

Cameron was quiet for long enough, Nik almost wondered if he shouldn’t have said a damn thing. “You helped me,” Cameron said, as if that was explanation enough.

Nik flinched back as if he had been punched in the gut. “Did you kiss me because you thought you were paying me for doing something that a boyfriend should be doing in the first place?” When Cameron didn’t say anything to dispute him, when Cameron didn’t deny it, Nik scoffed and stood. “For fucks sake,” he snapped. “You don’t owe me anything. I don’t want anything from you. I just want you. You are allowed to kiss someone just because you want to. Did you want to kiss me?”

He couldn’t read a damned thing on Cameron’s face. What he would give to have Adrien’s gifts in this moment. Being a damned empath had to be useful for dealing with emotionally stunted males. “I don’t know what your mother did to you. Or your father. But. You got to get over it somehow. You got to get past it because you can’t keep doing this.”

Cameron gave him a horrifying smile. “You first.”

Nik threw the towel at him. “Get yourself ready. I’m getting something to eat.”

Nik turned around and stalked out of the bathroom with Cameron watching after him. Sometimes. Sometimes he just made everything so damn difficult.

----

Silas liked to think of himself as a reasonable man. A logical man. Sure, he lost his temper easily, but he wasn't prone to unneeded worry. So when Lev missed training in the morning, and he felt unease curling through him, he was quite sure that he had every right to be concerned.

He wasn't sure if he had every right to barge in on his half-brother first thing in the morning to explain why he was worried, but that was a different matter entirely.

"Listen," he said before Bay could say anything, "I'm really worried. Lev never showed up for training this morning, and Lev never misses... well anything. He shows up early to everything. I've known him for years and he's never been late for any sort of date or appointment. So I might have gone to his house- don't judge me, I was worried - and Bay, his front door was broken. Sort of. The lock was. The lock in the doorknob. He wasn't at home, and he wasn't in any of his usual places, so he's not curled up having a panic attack somewhere, or anywhere I can find anyway. I'm really worried, Bay. I'm not sure what to do next." Silas paused, and then held out the large iced coffee he'd brought. "Also I got you coffee. Hey, Nate."

Silas wasn't sure if that was a glare Bay sent that way, or if he was just squinting because he didn't have his glasses on yet. From beside Bay, Nate offered a sleepy hello. There was a reason Silas liked Nate better than Bay. He tried to wait patiently as Bay, now with glasses, reached impatiently for the coffee.

"At least you brought caffeine," Bay muttered, before going at the iced coffee with impressive determination.

Silas opened his mouth, and then closed it again. Maybe it was best if he didn't say anything. Though that wasn't very honest, and Bay was bound to notice anyways, eventually.

"What?" Bay finally said.

Silas stopped fidgeting, straightening up automatically. "I brought you decaf. For the baby. Aren't you supposed to be avoiding caffeine?"

Bay actually teared up. Knowing it was hormones didn't make Silas feel any better. "What's the point of the coffee then?"

Silas watched Nate lean closer to Bay and press a sympathetic kiss to Bay's shoulder. "I figured any coffee was better than showing up empty handed? And you like the taste, don't you? I can't imagine you drinking as much as you do and not like the taste." Silas hesitated. "I do want the best for my nephew, Bay.”

Bay sounded bitter as he said, “This is extortion.”

Silas scoffed. “Just because you’re gay doesn’t mean you have to be dramatic.”

Maybe sass wasn’t the best idea. Bay’s eyes narrowed. "I'm six months pregnant without any caffeine to deal with giant angels who think its okay to barge into my bedroom so excuse me for being a little dramatic.”

Nate rubbed Bay’s back, giving a low, “Baylor.”

Bay relaxed somewhat, his expression softening as he glanced at Nate. He switched his attention back to Silas, sighing deeply. “What did you want?”

“Lev. He’s missing.” Silas frowned.

“No he’s not. He’s in Razya.”

Silas went still. “He’s what?” He twitched back a step, before he said, “Why?” He tensed, and added sharply, “And if you knew, why haven’t you done anything?”

Nate’s growl was soft, and if it wasn’t Lev, Silas might have backed off, but it was Lev. Lev, who startled himself with his own sneezes. Bay was lucky all Silas had done was sharpened his voice a little. He wanted to throw a fit, and with a lot more explicatives than he was using currently.

“First off, watch your tone. Second, I told Cameron that if anything happened to your precious angel I’d snap his neck.” Bay’s icy voice cut through Silas’ anger spiral.

At least, until Silas processed what he’d said. “He’s with Cameron? What the hell, Bay?" Nate's near black eyes narrowed.

“No, Lev’s down in Demon Territory because he’s sightseeing. Yes he’s with Cameron. No, he’s not in danger, unlike you, if you keep pissing me off," Bay snapped, fingers resting lazily on his extended belly.

Nate stiffened slightly.

Silas took a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly. “Listen. Bay. Lev’s- stars, I know you think he’s useless-”

“Not useless,” Bay said tiredly. “Defenseless. And weak. He can’t defend himself despite the best warriors training him. It makes him a target.”

Silas flicked him a glare. “And it seems right now your brother is the one targeting him. He has no business in Demon Territory. What does Cameron even want with him?”

“I imagine he wants to fuck him,” Bay replied dryly.

That didn’t do anything to soothe him, or his alpha. “And you’re sure he’s there of- of his own free will? I’m not sure the word no is in his vocabulary.”

“Are you insinuating that I would let Lev be held somewhere against his will with a demon that has been known for terrorizing angels?” Bay sounded genuinely insulted.

Silas knew he should backtrack. “I just- worried, Bay. Did you talk to Lev at least? How long is he going to be gone?”

Nate cut in. “He’s also with my brother, Silas.”

Silas had to stop and think for a moment, before saying slowly, “Nik?”

“No, the other brother that Cameron is screwing," Nate said, impatiently.

Silas winced, trying to ignore Bay’s snort. “I’m still worried.”

"You’re being an insufferable territorial alpha," Bay retorted icily. "Lev isn't your mate and you have no right to him or what he does. So knock your shit off and go do something useful."

Silas blinked. His mouth opened and closed a few times, before he rocked back a step. “I- right.” He swallowed. “Right. Okay. I- sorry. Just... let me know if- nevermind. I’m gonna go now.” Before he did anything stupid. Or stupider, at any rate.

---

Lev puttered around the kitchen. This was familiar. He even had to look around to find where things went. It kept him busy and he liked it that way. He could even ignore Nik, who had reappeared a few minutes seeming upset, until Lev was sure he wanted to open that can of worms.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Lev finally ventured as he dried the last pan.

"No," Nik snapped. "Mind your own business."

Lev flinched, holding the pan in his hands close to his chest. Alright, so he hadn't been a hundred percent ready to deal with Nik.

Nik went off before Lev could figure out what to say. "Why him? Of all the people in this damned realm to fall in love with it has to be the most emotionally bankrupt, damaged asshole. He makes me look absolutely functional. Do I blame him for it? No, of course not. But that doesn't stop me from wanting to beat my head against a brick wall whenever he does shit like this."

Lev opened his mouth, only to close it again. Nik wouldn't want his apologies. He carefully set the pan down on the counter, and then turned to peer at Nik. "What did he do?" Lev eventually asked, braced to jump back if need be.

Nik didn't even blink, didn't seem to notice he'd spoken. "Do you know how old I was when I first kissed someone? Stars, I can't even remember it was so long ago. But a damn kiss is nothing. But for Cameron it might as well be defusing a bomb. Am I worked up over a fucking kiss? Yes I am. Because Cameron thought that I would want to be kissed because I helped him. Like some kind of damned transaction. How the hell do I even respond to that. I know I fucked up, leaving him in there like that, but he's a damned prick."

Lev tried to say something, and then decided to let Nik keep purging. It seemed to be good for him. So he lifted himself up on the counter and waited to see if Nik had anything else to say.

Nik dropped his head on the counter with a thud that made Lev wince. "I am. Awful. An awful, awful person who doesn't know how to help anyone. I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have walked out of there like that. No wonder my dad thinks I'm a waste of space."

Lev stared, eyes wide. He wasn't used to hearing that sort of rant outside his own head. After a moment, Lev reached over, tapping Nik's arm with featherlight fingers. Even Lev could see that flinch, but he spoke anyway. "You're not a waste of space," he tried. "And you're not awful." He dropped his hands in his lap, but kept his earnest gaze on Nik. "It... it sounds complicated and I don't understand all of it, but I don't- if you needed to walk out- that might be better than- than fighting. Getting upset and- getting upset and pushing doesn't really help."

Nik sighed. "Oh Lev. Lev Lev Lev. You shouldn't want to be within a hundred miles of either of us. We're both too neurotic and screwed up for someone like you."

Lev was quiet for a moment. "I think that's my choice," he finally. After bracing his hands on the counter, he glanced at Nik. "I know you and Cameron aren't perfect, no one is, but you both have been nicer to me than most people." He swung his feet back and forth lightly. "I think I'd rather take you two over the angels who hate me for something I can't control. I didn't ask to be a coward. But you two take me as I am. Usually. And I prefer that."

Nik grimaced at him, taking a sip of coffee. "Lev, that is really sad."

Lev shrugged. "It is what it is. I'm used to it."

Nik looked him in the eye. "If you get hurt on one of our edges, you have no one else to blame but yourself. Not gonna force you to go, but damn, you should take the warning."

Lev swallowed. "I've dated worse. I know you're not like- not like him. And that's enough for me. Anything else I can recover from."

Nik shot him a look so harsh Lev had to look down. "That's an extremely low bar."

Lev shrugged uncomfortably. "It's as low as it needs to be," he said softly. "Most people can't meet it anyway."

Nik looked towards the doorway. "Most people are awful. It's why I rarely ever get attached. It's not worth it."

"That's a very- it's a very cynical way to look at the world."

“Oh really? Is that your professional opinion on the matter?”

Lev flinched. “You don’t have to be mean, you know.” He slid off the counter, grabbing the last pan to put it away. “You could just tell me to shut up if you want me to.”

When he looked back, Nik was smiling a little. “You could still run, if you wanted. Or fly, as it were.”

Lev huffed out a laugh. “I’m actually terrified of flying,” he admitted. “My wings are good for pretty much anything but flying.”

That earned him a snort. “That is honestly the most in character thing I have ever heard from you. I almost asked how you were related to Amara but I’ve had sex with both of you.”

Lev flushed, and then went still. “You’ve slept with Mar?”

“Well. I mean. There wasn’t a lot of sleeping involved.”

Lev rubbed his face. “Would you be surprised this isn’t the first boyfriend I’ve had that she’s slept with?” He glanced at Nik. “Never while I was dating them, but- it’s a little weird, I guess. That- I dunno, that our tastes align? Or something?”

Nik grinned. “I hadn’t realized we were boyfriends, Lev.”

Lev’s flush went further. “I- I meant- I just- Was that too fast?”

The next thing Lev knew, Nik was very close indeed, and then Nik was kissing him. Lev grabbed for Nik’s shirt, and was reminded that Nik wasn’t wearing one. He wasn’t sure how he’d forgotten in the first place, but he certainly had more, ah, pressing matters to think about now. He tipped his head up, melting into the kiss and letting himself get crowded against the counter.

Lev stared up at Nik when the kiss ended, breathing hard. “Oh,” he said faintly. He didn’t get much chance to say much else. Movement caught Lev’s eye as Cameron wandered past to get some coffee.

“Clearly you weren’t that upset after all, Nik,” was all Cameron said.

Lev blinked. “He was,” he said eventually.

Cameron smiled a little. “Your throat must have made him feel better,” he said.

Lev flushed, his hand dropping from Nik’s chest. “I-” he cut himself off instead of apologizing. He wasn't even sure what he’d be apologizing for. “We talked a bit first?”

Nik grabbed his face, dragging him into another kiss. Lev gave a soft moan, couldn’t help it. It took a few seconds before he pulled back. “Nik,” he said breathlessly. “That’s- that’s not fair.”

“What isn't fair is your boyfriend trying to treat affection like a business arrangement. This is me wanting to kiss you because a) you're cute and b) I want my damn kiss.”

Lev blinked. He’d meant something else, but now he felt less like Nik was kissing him, and more like Nik was using him. He glanced between the two of them, and then stared at Nik’s collarbone. “If- if you’re going to just use me to- to get back at Cameron, I don’t- I don’t want it.”

Nik pulled back. “No one wants to kiss me,” he muttered. He grabbed his mug and refilled his coffee, before walking out of the room, still muttering.

Lev stared after him, hurt. He finally looked over at Cameron. “I like the kissing. I just don’t- I don’t want to be used as a weapon.”

“An ineffective weapon,” Cameron said dismissively. “He’d have to try harder than that to piss me off. He’s just being a child.”

“That doesn’t mean I like being used.” Lev pushed off from the counter. “He has a right to be upset, but I don’t want any part of it. Not like that.” He paused, pursing his lips as he flushed, but managed to say, “He talks enough, you’d think he’d actually talk to you about what bothers him.”

“He’s upset because he got kissed. He wanted to be kissed. So I kissed him.”

Lev blinked at Cameron. He really didn’t get it, and it baffled Lev. “Did you want to kiss him?”

Cameron’s expression was unreadable. “Does it matter?”

Without hesitating, Lev said softly, “Very much.”

Cameron was quiet for so long Lev thought he wouldn’t say anything at all. Finally, Cameron said, “I don’t know what I want. I haven’t had to want anything for centuries.”

Lev considered that. “It’s kind of hard to give consent if you don’t know what you want. Kisses don’t matter much, to me anyway, but they do, too. They mean a lot. But if you don’t want it, or if- it’s complicated. If- if- if they’re something you want or need to trade away, you at- you at least have to tell Nik before, because he thinks you’re consenting to something else entirely. You were kissing him because- because it was a trade. And he thought you wanted it. And if you didn’t, then you weren’t really consenting to the same thing he thought you were. And that’s where- at least part- of his problem is. I think. If that makes sense?”

Cam stared at him, blinking for a heartbeat, and then he just... walked away. Lev hesitated, before giving a small sigh. Abandoned again. He wasn’t even sure if he’d helped. At least he’d tried though.

----

For the last three hundred years, Cameron had every choice out of his hands. From what he wore to what he ate, to who he slept with. Wanting things was inconsequential. It did not matter, the only thing that should have mattered was keeping his heart beating. So that was what he had done.

Nik had called him his boyfriend. What did that even mean. He’s slept with people, he’s lived with people before. He wouldn’t call any of them partners of any kind. They were a business transaction. His mother had trained him: affection was not freely given. And it wasn’t given just because. There was always a reason.

Cameron found Nik in the bedroom, buckling a new belt to a fresh pair of jeans. Nik looked over his shoulder at him, black hair in his eyes. He sighed deeply. “What do you want. I am too tired for the mental olympics you subject me to on a daily basis.”

Cameron was silent for long enough that Nik actually turned around and looked at him, warily. “I… I shouldn’t have just- left you in the bathroom like that,” Nik said clumsily. “I just. I don’t know how to handle you.”

“Who said you had to,” Cameron said, quietly.

“I did,” Nik said, tiredly. “When you showed up on my doorstep covered in blood and half dead. That’s when I decided to handle you.”

Cameron felt his mouth twitch up. “You’re doing a shit job of it, Nik.”

Nik scoffed. “Don’t I know it.”

Cameron swallowed. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what I want. Wanting things mean nothing to me. I kissed you because you wanted me to. I don’t want things. I just keep myself alive.”

Nik seemed to consider that. He bit at his lip piercing. “And how do you keep yourself alive?”

“By doing what I’m told.”

Nik sketched a disbelieving brow. “You have never done anything I have told you to do.”

“Because you’re not going to kill me if I say ‘no’.”

“Not yet,” Nik muttered. But he sighed, the fight loosening from his shoulders. “No more transactions. Just. If you kiss me, don’t do it because I did something for you, that’s not how this works.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Before Cameron could turn around and walk out, he went up and kissed Nik on the mouth. Nik’s lips were soft, warm. Tasted like the bitter coffee on his tongue. But Nik yanked back, brows furrowed in confusion. “Why did you do that?”

“Because I chose to.”

Nik looked amused. “Because you ‘chose’ to,” he echoed. “Can’t just say you wanted to?”

“Clearly not,” Cameron said.

“I think,” Nik said, hand pressed to Cameron’s chest, “that you need to make this up to me.”

Cameron’s eyes narrowed. “How?”

“You let Lev heal your back- at least enough to get rid of the bruises. Angel healing is better than demon healing and you know it.”

“Your clearly biased views do not impress me,” Cameron said, wrapping his fingers around Nik’s wrist.

“Is it though? Is it biased when damn near every angel can heal and only a handful of demons can?”

Cameron growled. “If I say yes, will you both stop hounding me?”

Nik smiled brightly. “Absolutely.”

“You are a child,” Cameron sighed, bitterly.

“You should have thought about that before you decided to be an idiot,” Nik said hooking a ringed finger in one of Cameron’s belt loops. “Come on, it’s not like he’s going to bite. But I’m sure if you ask, you can bite him.”

------

Lev stared at the timer going off on the stove. Cameron had stressed no one was to touch his things, but Lev didn’t want the bread to burn. He waffled in front of the stove for a few seconds longer before he leaned forward and turned off the timer. He poked around the kitchen, and found a couple of oven mitts. He pulled the bread out, and set it on top of the stove.

“Good news,” Nik said from behind him, startling Lev. Lev whipped around, staring at Nik. He’d expected to be left alone much longer. “I conned Cameron into letting you heal him.”

Lev blinked. “You did? How?”

“I asked very very nicely and like a slut. Works every time.”

Lev stared at him for a moment, and then shook his head. “Forget I asked.” He set the oven mits back where he’d found them. “Is it a right now sort of thing? Where is he?”

“Right here,” Cameron said.

Lev startled again, and clutched his chest. “You both walk too quietly,” he muttered, but he took a step towards Cameron. “Can I?” he said, just to be sure.

Cameron stared him down, silent long enough Lev started to squirm. Finally, he said, “Just this once. Make it count.” He shifted to sit by the counter.

Lev considered him for a moment, eyeing the back presented to him. He didn’t want to touch Cameron’s back, not when he’d seen Cameron reacted to even the possibility of Nik touching him. Lev shuffled closer, and hesitantly touched Cameron’s shoulder. He tried not to be bothered by the way Cameron deliberately looked away, and focused on healing what he could. There was no way he could heal everything. There was too much, and he was too unused to magic to do as much as he should have been able to. Still, it’d be better than what Cameron had now, and if he was good enough, maybe a shade or two better than before Cameron had hurt himself helping Lev.

By the time Lev was done, he was near cross eyed, but Cameron’s back did look better. Not perfect, not healed entirely, but Lev didn’t think it’d crack open again unless Cameron tried to mess it up again. “There,” Lev said tiredly. “Best I can do in one go.”

“See?” Nik said. “That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

“Fuck you,” Cameron replied.

Lev closed his eyes. “You two bicker a lot,” he said, trying not to lean against Cameron.

Cameron shifted under Lev’s hand. “Carry him to his room.”

“I can walk,” Lev protested, straightening.

“Then walk,” Cameron said flatly.

Lev dropped his hand to his side. “I don’t- I didn’t mean- I don’t want to be alone,” he admitted.

“You won't be,” Cameron said. “Nik will be with you.”

Lev blinked. He didn’t think trying to get any further would work. He nodded once, and turned to Nik. He didn’t get far before Nik just picked him up, tossing him over his shoulder. Lev squawked, scrabbling for a moment, before giving up. “You guys like carrying me around,” he grumbled at Nik’s backside.

He squeaked when Nik smacked his ass. “Listen. Don’t complain,” Nik said.

Lev gave up entirely, sighing deliberately loud enough for Nik to hear. When he was dropped on the bed, he reached for Nik immediately. The moment Nik was close enough, he dragged him close insistently and snuggled close, relaxing only when Nik dropped an arm over him. So maybe he did need a rest, was the last thing he thought before he passed right out.

----

A few days later, Nik jerked awake when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He rolled over, unwrapping himself from Lev and fished it out of his pocket. He squinted at the screen and jolted up in a sitting position. He answered it on the third buzz. “Hello?” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

“Hello, Nik. Sleeping? It’s nearly night time.” Amara. She sounded rather amused.

“Ugh. Don’t judge.” Nik said palming his eyes. “Aren’t you the same person who sleeps until like four.”

“So?” she said. “We’re talking about you, not me.”

Nik waved her off and carefully slid from the bed to not stir Lev in his sleep. Nik moved quietly through the house to get to a secure room where he couldn’t be overheard. He quietly shut the door behind him and went for the window. He pushed it open and forced air into his lungs. “What did you want?”

“I found your guy.”

@solangelo3088 @idreamonpaper @halstudies

[marril96]

Tonight

Chapter 2: The Haunting Yes

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Characters: Rowena, reader, Sam, Dean

Summary: It was supposed to be a happy, carefree outing. After tonight, however, nothing will ever be the same for you and Rowena.

Editor: @rowenaisfabulous

NOW…

The house was cold.

Even though it was summer and the night was as warm as a spring morning, the house still felt cold. As if there were ghosts lingering the hallway, haunting the dark rooms.

The hairs on Rowena's arms stood up, sharp and straight as needles. Chills cascaded down her spine, spread over to her neck and then the rest of her body, an invisible veil of frost clinging to her skin, burrowing underneath it, sinking into her bones.

She let Sam carry you to the bedroom, following after him like a puppy. She watched as he lowered you on the bed and hurried to the other side to ruffle the pillow and straighten the sheet underneath you. To make you as comfortable as she could.

She owed you that much.

"She doesn't look hurt too bad," Dean commented as he looked you over intently, scanning every detail of you with utmost precision.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. Locking eyes with Rowena, he said for what must have been the hundredth time since he first saw you, "She's gonna be okay."

Rowena gave a nod and accompanied it with a smile. Forced, but genuine. "Thank you."

She appreciated their help. Immensely so. It had taken them a while, but they came when she'd called. They wanted to help. They didn't make assumptions, didn't throw around accusations. They genuinely wanted to help.

Gone were their days of animosity.

"Of course," Sam said, returning the smile.

Dean responded with a nod.

True to their word, the brothers helped. They worked on your injuries with the same professionalism they showcased while hunting. A few cuts and bruises were rather easy to take care of. Even still, the two of them took it in stride, worked meticulously, carefully, precisely.

Rowena stood aside and watched them. Watched you, unconscious, unresponsive, clueless of the world around you. For how much longer, she wondered? You were bound to wake up anytime now.

Would you be scared? Hurt? Angry? All of the above?

Rowena would be. She had the presence of mind to admit it, to herself at the very least. She would be terrified, out of her mind with panic. Her body would throb, but her soul would ache with the pain she didn't even dare imagine. She would hate it, and herself, and the people that did it to her. But no matter how hard she concentrated on other emotions, the pain would still crush her, cripple her, destroy her from the inside out.

Unlike you, though, she would be the one to blame.

She was the one to blame.

If she hadn't said yes…

Her heart flared, every beat a new flash of pain. As if shards of glass had embedded into it and dug deeper, pulled at the sensitive nerves as it pounded. Her eyes prickled with tears. These she held back; she was sick of crying, sick of being weak, of falling apart over and over like a broken, worn out doll.

As soon as Sam and Dean were finished with your injuries, Rowena pulled a sheet over you. Just in case you were as cold as she was when you woke. Then she ushered the brothers out and, as they awkwardly paced around before settling down on the couch in the living room, poured herself a glass of water and took a long, big swig.

The cool liquid burned at her throat as she swallowed. She relished in the feeling, held on to it, allowed it to ground her. She hadn't had a drink in hours. Her dry, scratchy throat begged for more, and she gave in to it, then refilled the glass and downed the entirety of its contents in one swig.

Strangely, she wasn't as cold anymore. She felt more like herself, if only a tad. More comfortable in her own body. More alive.

Filling up the glass once more, she grabbed it and, with shaky hands, carried it over to the coffee table. She took a seat on the sofa opposite the Winchester brothers. She could have used a cup of tea, but she was in no condition to make it. She was in no condition to do anything other than sit and stare into empty space until you woke up.

Then she would swallow her pride and do something she rarely, if ever, did — she would apologize. She would own up to her mistakes and apologize. If need be, she would fall to her knees in front of you. Anything to make what happened — what she allowed to happen — at least somewhat right.

"Rowena?" Sam said, breaking the silence that had settled over them.

Rowena perked up, looked right at him. "Yes, Samuel?"

"Can you…" He cleared his throat. Sucked in a breath. "Can you tell us what happened?"

Could she?

She knew she should. She owed them an explanation. But…

"No offense, but we found you surrounded by dead bodies," Dean said as tactfully as he could. Rowena could tell he was trying his hardest. "We don't wanna draw conclusions." Sam gave a nod at that. "But you gotta give us something."

She supposed she did.

If she were to walk in on them in a sea of corpses, she would have had questions, too. And just as many opinions, the majority not very flattering.

She sighed.

"It was my fault."

With that she started her story.

*****

EARLIER…

"So," you said that hot, humid afternoon, and Rowena knew right away you wanted something. It was your go-to sentence starter for when you needed favors.

"What do you want?" she asked in a cautious, suspicious tone. You had a tendency to ask for quite ridiculous things. 'I can't do that,' she was preparing to answer. One of her usual responses to your demands, along with 'I will not sacrifice a virgin for your nonsense' and 'The internet lied to you.'

This time, however, what you wanted wasn't of magical nature.

And, instead of a demand, it was more of an offer.

"There's this nightclub," you said, a touch uncertain. Testing the waters.

Rowena cocked up an eyebrow, curious. "Okay?"

"It's called Illuminae," you continued in the same tone. As if you were expecting to be interrupted at any moment, to be told you were annoying and to stop wasting her time. "It's just outside of town, maybe a fifteen minute drive. It's apparently supernatural-only. I was thinking maybe we could check it out tonight?"

Rowena stared.

You blinked innocently.

She kept staring.

You responded with an awkward smile.

A nightclub? You wanted to go to a nightclub? A supernatural one at that?

Who were you and what had you done with her Y/N?

"You want to go to a nightclub?" Rowena echoed her thoughts aloud, her face the picture of confusion, of sheer bafflement. You barely wanted to go to a restaurant. Sometimes she had to promise you sex in order to get you out of the house. What in hell was going on?

You blushed. Shuffled your feet nervously. "I just wanna see what it's like."

She shot you a look that said, loud and clear, try harder.

You sighed. Your eyes traveled downwards, to your naked feet on the floor. Stuck to your toenails like glue. A deafening, suffocating silence settled over the room for a few moments before you dared yourself to break it.

"You haven't been well lately. I know you've been having nightmares. I woke up to you crying a few times, but I pretended to be asleep. I knew you didn't want me to pry, so I didn't. And yesterday — you had a flashback, didn't you? You didn't say anything, but your face… I knew that look. Lana — that witch I've been chatting with online — mentioned Illuminae, so I thought we could check it out. Get your mind off things, y'know?"

Rowena was flabbergasted.

You'd noticed she was in distress. Noticed the change in her, in her body language. You'd noticed and you didn't say a word for you respected her privacy so much.

She could cry.

She wanted to, but she willed the tears back, forced her face to remain neutral, as blank as possible.

She'd tried so hard to keep everything she'd been going through a secret. She knew how worried you got when she wasn't well, so she kept it to herself. Hid it to the best of her ability.

She should have anticipated this. You were always good at reading her, at figuring out how she ticked. Nothing that concerned her went past you. You knew her like no one else did — like no one else had ever tried to know her. You cared about her with your entire heart and mind and soul. You loved her.

How could you not have noticed?

"Never mind. It's stupid," you said after a few moments of silence.

"No," Rowena said. Her voice sounded strange, more like that of a stranger than her own. As if someone had possessed her body and was speaking through her, for her. "It's not stupid."

She reached for your hand. You let her take it, and she squeezed it with both of hers as if holding on for dear life.

"I think it's a marvelous idea."

You perked up. "Really?"

Rowena grinned, big and bright. Happy. "Aye."

"We don't have to go. It was just a suggestion. I'm not trying to pressure you or anything."

"I know, dearest. I want to go."

It was a great opportunity.

You were right — it would take her mind off her problems, at least for a short while.

Most important of all: you thought of it. You suggested it for her benefit. Even though you hated going out, especially to places crowded with people, you wanted to go out for her. Because you cared. Because you loved her and wanted to cheer her up.

How could she say no to that?

You flashed your brightest smile, face lit up with joy. "It's a deal, then!"

"It is," Rowena confirmed. "What have I done to deserve you?"

"You're you," you replied with a shrug.

Laughing, she pressed her mouth to yours. Sealed the deal with a long, heated kiss.

It was going to be an amazing night.

*****

NOW…

"I should have said no," Rowena said.

"You couldn't have known what was gonna happen," Sam said softly.

Maybe so. But she'd still said yes. She'd agreed to go, anticipated it even.

She was a bloody idiot!

She sucked in a breath. Swallowed a lump that had formed in her throat, thick and heavy. Dug her dirty nails into her thighs.

"I need a shower," she announced, more to herself than to the brothers.

The two of them exchanged a look.

"Uh, sure," Sam said, uncertain how to respond.

"You do that," Dean agreed.

Without another word, she got up and left for the bathroom. She would tell them what happened later. Now, she had to clear her head a bit. Get this filth off her. Clean her body, at the very least, if she couldn't do the same for her guilty conscience.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @oswinthestrange @songofthecagedmoose @apurdyfulmind @getthesalt-sam @metallihca @salembitchtrials @jay-eris @hellsmother @elizabeth-effie @victoriasagittariablack @rowenaswife @dropsofpetrichor @xfireandsin @liddell-alien @hotdiggitydammit @lae-lae @darkhumorsblog @wayward-kaia @angel7376 @rowenaisfabulous @ruthieconnells @evil-regal-vampiress @collectorofsecretsandsouls @angel-e-v-a @melisandre02 @a-queen-and-her-throne

[aion-rsa]

Star Trek: In Defense of Enterprise’s Worst Episode

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

Don’t worry, this isn’t a defense of “These Are The Voyages.”* We’re here today to talk about the other “worst episode of Enterprise,” season two’s “A Night In Sickbay.”

“The episode that killed Star Trek.” “One of the worst episodes of the whole Star Trek franchise.” “Almost as bad as ‘These Are The Voyages.’” These and similar opinions of “A Night In Sickbay” are all over the Internet. The episode frequently appears on “worst episodes of all time” lists alongside “Spock’s Brain” from The Original Series and Star Trek: Voyager’s “Threshold.”

I have no intention of arguing that this is a great or outstanding episode of Star Trek – it’s not. But nor is it anything like as bad as those other two notorious examples. Does anyone turn into a lizard? No. Do any crew members abduct other crew members to have lizard sex with them? No. Does anyone’s brain get taken out and yet their body still, inexplicably, functions? No. It’s about time we went over a few of the more common complaints about this episode, to see if it really deserves its terrible reputation.

Complaint 1: Archer behaves like an idiot, and no trained diplomat should behave the way he does.

The episode’s events are kicked off when Archer takes his dog Porthos down to an alien planet on a sensitive diplomatic mission, and then gets upset when the aliens are insulted because the dog peed on one of their sacred trees, while poor Porthos nearly dies after coming into contact with an alien pathogen.

Viewers have complained that Archer’s behaviour in this episode is childish, that no “trained diplomat” should ever think it was appropriate to bring a dog on a sensitive visit, and that the episode makes the Captain look like an idiot. He spends most of the time railing at the aliens, the Kreetassans, avoiding taking any responsibility for what happened, and suggesting that he might refuse to apologise.

Bringing Porthos may not have been the brightest idea in the world, but it isn’t the act of total idiocy critics have made it out to be either. Archer himself points out repeatedly that they told the Kreetassans he was planning on bringing Porthos, and the Kreetassans said nothing about their sacred trees, plus they endangered Porthos’ life by not running proper checks on his genome. Should Archer have known better than to try to bring the dog with him at all, considering an alien species may not understand the nature of the dog-human relationship? Yes, and T’Pol tells him as much in the episode. Is he completely irredeemably stupid for thinking that he’d taken appropriate precautions and wanting to give his dog some exercise? No.

Archer’s reactions are also aggravated by the fact that the Kreetassans are, to put it mildly, gigantic pains in the backside. In their previous encounter, in the first season episode Vox Sola, the Kreetassans took offense because the Enterprise crew ate in front of them, which they consider vulgar. Except the crew didn’t just turn up to their planet touting takeaway – they were eating in their mess hall on their own ship. You know, the room set aside specifically for eating, an important social activity in Earth culture. The Kreetassans’ reaction is ridiculous and made worse by their reluctance to explain the problem, a reluctance they show again in this episode. Sure, Archer should grow up and get over it, but his frustration, while unprofessional, is very human.

It’s also worth bearing in mind the title of the episode – this takes place over the course of a sleepless night during which Archer is afraid Porthos is dying. He is stressed, emotional, and on edge, and he’s lashing out. By morning (and with Porthos thankfully having survived) he has cooled down and started behaving more appropriately again. And none of Archer’s complaints are actually communicated to the Kreetassans – he’s sounding off to his crew and his colleagues about a frustrating situation. He may not be the world’s best diplomat, but there are real life diplomats guilty of worse offences.

Complaint 2: Archer shouldn’t be whining so much about his dog.

How you feel about this one is going to depend partly on how you feel about dogs, or about pets in general. As a person who has slept in the lounge to watch over and comfort a sick dog, I have every sympathy with how Archer feels. If my dog is sick, you can bet I’m not at my best at work, especially if I’ve also had very little sleep. Archer’s way of explaining this, calling Porthos “my beagle, my pal”, may be a cringe-worthy way to put it, but those of us with “subservient quadrupeds” at home really are very attached to them.

Incidentally, given that Phlox’s bizarre treatment for Porthos involves drowning and reviving him, this episode initiates the dog into the grand tradition of Star Trek episodes that “kill” main characters only to bring them back to life again.

Complaint 3: Archer’s romantic feelings for T’Pol come out of nowhere and aren’t convincing.

While many viewers consider Archer’s romantic feelings for T’Pol in this episode to be a one-off story thread that was never picked up again, this is actually the end of a slight romantic thread between the two of them that started in season one, but largely fizzled out afterwards. Archer’s defence of T’Pol in “Fusion” could be assumed to be no more than a Captain protecting a member of his crew, but as well as several aside glances over the first season, they snuggle up together under a blanket in “The Andorian Incident”; in “Fallen Hero,” Vulcan ambassador V’Lar tells them she sees a “great bond” of “friendship” between them, and in “Shockwave Part 1,” T’Pol tells Archer she has his back. That may not sound like much, but in 90s Trek terms, that was practically a relationship.

The suggestion of an Archer/T’Pol romance would come up once more, in season three’s “Twilight.” Nothing to do with sparkly vampires, this episode had originally been suggested as a romantic storyline between Captain Janeway and First Officer Chakotay on Star Trek: Voyager, a couple who flirted mercilessly for seven years before Chakotay was inexplicably paired with Seven of Nine at the last minute. Re-written for Captain Archer and his First Officer, this episode is often considered one of Enterprise’s best – so it’s not the sexual tension between Archer and T’Pol itself that is the issue with “A Night In Sickbay,” merely the sloppy execution.

The main reason the idea of a romance between the two has such a poor reputation is that the way it’s brought up here feels rather strange, with Phlox insisting Archer’s concern for his dog is actually stress caused by underlying sexual tension, and some very dubious “Polarian slips” (“the breast I can,” really? With poor Jolene Blalock in that catsuit?). It’s true that the dream sequence in which Porthos’ funeral becomes a romantic moment between Archer and T’Pol, followed by yet more sexy “decontamination”, is rather silly, but it is just a dream. No one mated with each other and had lizard babies, and dreams are often weird – it’s not that bad a scene.

But the idea in itself isn’t inherently terrible – T’Pol and Archer do work well together and she is an obviously attractive woman. However, when she calmly tells Archer any kind of relationship would be inappropriate he does the right thing and moves on, and that’s the end of that. It’s a simple story of an attraction at work that isn’t pursued.

Complaint 4: The humor doesn’t work.

Some of the episode’s bad reputation is the result of its attempts at humour. The opening panning shot across Hoshi “decontaminating” T’Pol, who is “decontaminating” Archer, who is “decontaminating” Porthos, is presumably meant to be funny. The problem is, the exploitative “decontamination” scenes are so problematic in general, it just isn’t very funny, but rather makes it seem like the show is trying to sexualize the dog.

Similarly, the daft sequence at the end of the episode, where Archer has to go through a bizarre ritual in order to apologise to the Kreetassans, is a simple case of humour gone wrong. It’s too silly, his hairdo is bizarre, and it makes no sense. But again, no one turns into a lizard, or randomly picks a fight with some cavemen. It’s not great, but it’s hardly the worst Star Trek has to offer.

The main sources of humour in the episode are, of course, Phlox’s various shenanigans overnight in sickbay. He trims his toenails, he brushes his tongue, he and Archer chase a bat around. If you don’t find any of that funny, then sure, you may find the episode grating. Perhaps I just have a terrible sense of humour, but what can I say – I thought it was funny. Judging by this episode’s Hugo nomination, I’m not the only one.

This episode is sometimes accused of having “killed Star Trek” and blamed for Enterprise’s dwindling viewing figures and eventual cancellation. It’s true that it has flaws and it won’t be bothering any “Best Of” lists. But it doesn’t deserve its place on all the ‘Worst Of’ lists either. It’s a good chance to get to know Phlox a bit better, a fascinating and genuinely alien character who didn’t get the spotlight often enough. The interaction between Phlox and Archer here is genuinely fun to watch. It’s light and fluffy and silly, and maybe that’s not your bag, but that doesn’t make it bad. It shows Archer at his worst, at his most childish and petulant, but how can we really get to know any character without seeing them at their lowest? By the end of the episode, he has regained his sense of duty and is fulfilling his role as normal once again. He had a bad night – so do we all, sometimes. It’s about time we cut him, and this episode, some slack.

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*Though if that was a season finale, rather than a series finale, and if it hadn’t killed off a major character, it really wouldn’t be that bad either.

The post Star Trek: In Defense of Enterprise’s Worst Episode appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[nihilistsundays-blog]

The Weight of Women.

Sasha Fallon is drowning from the inside out. The only salvation comes in consumption and revolt. 

CONTENT WARNING FOR: extreme gore, cannibalism, misogyny, self-harm and character death. The bathroom sink was coated in brown hair. There was the dense center, where most of the curls had fallen to accompany the soft snipping sounds, a small pile of downy, tawny identity. Already, her face was new - framed by short, springy spirals that left round brown eyes and a doll’s delicate mouth defiantly exposed. Her freckles, splashed so generously across her cheeks and sharply upturned nose, could have been mistaken for a tan from a distance. A tan that her boss, Eddie, had more than once suggested would improve her appearance. “Our customers are looking for someone who really represents the nature of our brand,” he’d said to her. “Young, hot, edgy.” The blades of her scissors were edgy enough, she supposed, idly considering the sweet threat of their pressure against her fingers as she lowered them to the edge of the sink. She’d trimmed up, cleaned up, left a wispy mound of herself in the sink, and she smiled down at the mess.

Eddie hated it. She closed the store the next night, her freshly shorn curls proudly pomaded, the excess trashed. “Jesus Christ, you look like a fuckin’ little boy,” he said without preamble or niceties as she’d walked into work in rare form. “Why the hell would you do that to yourself? You’re already too flat to pull off the hot butch thing. Shit, Sasha.” He handed her the closing keys, unabashed in his appraisal of her as he looked her up and down. “Whatever, not my hair I guess. Later.” It was a quiet night, sales low, and she knew even as she swept and counted change that her new haircut would be blamed for it. A bone-deep ache bloomed in her, reverberating beyond the strains of the dance pop nightmare cycle that played on a loop over the speakers.

To unload all of her shed hair onto the glass counter, to show them. Look what I’ve done, more of me gone and every day I get closer to bones, clean bones, stripped bare, perfect bones. Because she’d lost weight, a while back - nearly sixty pounds, working out enough to keep her flesh from getting loose and hanging from those sweet clean bones that waited quietly underneath all of her sweaty, grimy, blood-gorged and porous flesh. She’d mourned then, the fact that she couldn’t see the fat she’d melted into nothing, couldn’t save it in a jar, sickly yellow curds of jiggling humanity, slickly wet and shed for her to lord over. She’d spent hours perusing the contents of pimples that she’d popped, squeezing them out onto her fingertip and turning her phone’s flashlight onto the tiny blobs of oily pus, the satisfaction enormous. More of her gone, the wet and weak parts of her excised.

Her boyfriend didn’t notice her haircut until after their sex that night. His own hair was long, down to his shoulders, thick and lemon-blond. He had Nordic features too, a straight and royal nose, narrow, tea-green eyes that caught the light as prettily as a bit of sea glass, a disarmingly full and feminine mouth that softened the punch of his jawline and thick brows. He was lying on his stomach, the length of his pale back illuminated by the soft glow of the blood moon through her bedroom window. He was a fair to decent lover, generally attentive and largely uninterested in anything too obscene for her tastes, content with missionary mediocrity and light conversation before sleep. “Whoa, you cut your hair?” he mumbled sleepily, rolling over onto his back and reaching out to thread thick fingers through her curls. “I thought you had it in a ponytail or something, guess I wasn’t paying attention. I liked it long.”

His opinion - entirely unrequested and wholly irrelevant - made her smile faintly. Men always assumed that the world was interested in whether or not they approved of something. But because the sex had been good, she shrugged and stayed silent. Her words were another part of herself that she’d recently decided to stop handing out with such mindless generosity. She had a plan, of course. It had come to her as she’d worked that night, and in its simplicity and brilliance it had taken root in her, a stargazer lily rising and opening in her belly and chest. “I guess if it makes you happy,” Ethan added as if placatingly offering her his permission to soothe the obvious sting that his criticism had to have inflicted upon her. He kissed her cheek, stubbing out his cigarette and passing out beside her under a curling haze of male smoke that dissipated up to her ceiling.

Her father bought her makeup for her birthday. “It’s that...that thing all the girls want right now,” he struggled to explain as she’d unwrapped it, her nostrils full of melting-sugar scent from the little round grocery store cake her mother had bought. She was not currently wearing any makeup, she rarely did, but it was a designer palette that she’d seen on the internet that was highly sought after by women with more cosmopolitan tastes than her own, and she knew it was expensive. He’d bought it for the daughter he wished she was, but she kissed his cheek anyway, thanked him and smiled for the family photos her mother took of them by the fireplace. That was a week after her haircut.

“Walking around lately like the cat that caught the canary,” Eddie commented on Friday. “You must have plans for the weekend.”

“Maybe.” Her smile was coy in a way that it never was, and it caught his attention.

“That haircut’s growing on me,” he remarked casually. “Hopefully it’ll grow too, and soon!” He snorted at his own joke, while Sasha only smirked indulgently at him. She was not accustomed to smirking though, and it looked like more of a grimace. Eddie interpreted this as discomfort, and he rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so fucking sensitive,” he instructed her with an abrupt disdain for her perceived female fragility. “I was just joking.”

Ethan, a physics student, had “major cramming to do, babe,” so she had the weekend to herself. She could have helped him - she was an aficionado of the Nova channel and an avid collector of Neil Degrasse Tyson collector’s editions, a shared interest that had been the initial spark to their relationship. He’d kissed her though, explaining that “it’s a little beyond that stuff you watch on TV, babe. I appreciate it though, you’re the best.” Neither the money nor the academic faith had been there for her to major in physics herself - or anything, for that matter - and high school had dissolved like a sugar cube in a warm cup of tea, leaving her in the dregs of retail for the past 5 years. 27 now, watching the Cosmos remake by night with feet sore from hours on a tiled floor.

She cut her fingernails first. Then her toenails, snipping and snipping until the edges of her cuticles began to ooze dark blood, her fingers and toes sore with raw exposure to a world they’d never known. The pain of the loss of the protective layer of her nails galvanized her to do what she knew had to be done, but she gave herself one last night to sleep on it. Caution was always advisable even in the face of an epiphany. The morning couldn’t stop her though, and sleep had not weakened her resolve. That afternoon, the drugstore offered up the supplies she needed - sturdier, industrial shears intended for gardening, an economy-sized pack of gauze and a dark brown plastic bottle of antiseptic, bandages and numbing gel. The liquor store next door kindly outfitted her with a bottle of vodka that was just powerful enough to suit her needs, and she hummed softly to herself as she hauled it all back to her car.

Ethan had texted her. Hey babe, thinking of you, let’s go out on Monday. My class gets out early. This studying is kicking my ass, what are you up to?

She let him wait. Cellos were better company, their music flooding her car as she drove. She’d already laid out the towels, covering a kitchen chair and the floor under it in them. It was definitely overkill, but the Girl Scouts had taught her to always be prepared as a child. More cellos accompanied her endeavor as she set her speakers to drown out the inevitable pain of what she was about to do. Ethan texted her twice more as she arranged everything, but she was busy propping one foot up on her chair and bending herself nearly in half under the kitchen lights, already having cleaned and tied off her pinky toe with a thick elastic band. It was raspberry-red now, thrumming with the strain of bloodflow. She was even wearing a pair of non-latex gloves, a nod to the scientist she’d never become, and she lowered the shears to form a serrated triangle around her toe. It had to be all at once, she knew.

The resistance of the bone surprised her, when she slammed the shears closed - it was such a brittle little bone, in your pinky toe. She’d expected to sever it in one grand slam, but instead there was a crunch and a blinding, blistering pain that shot throughout her entire foot and all the way up to her knee, slicing deeply through the vodka haze she’d drunk herself into about half an hour ago. Her toe hung by a strip of bloody skin and sinew, the bone mostly severed but not quite, and she had to snap the shears closed a second time. Finally it was removed, a bubbling wellspring of blood spurting up from the new stump and soaking the towel on the chair. Her toe rolled off, landed on the floor. Her toenail was still painted a jaunty red, she realized. Ethan had done it for her, the two of them laughing about how clumsy he was with her nail polish bottle last week.

She doused her brand new stump in antiseptic, laughing hoarsely at the new wave of white-hot pain that exploded through her before packing it all in six layers of gauze until it finally stopped bleeding through, and wrapping it in bandages. She’d even bought clean socks - infection wasn’t the goal here. Purity was, safety was. The cellos were still playing, their belly-deep moaning stirring her. She cleaned off her freed toe, dropping it gently into a mason jar for safekeeping and tucking it behind her bookshelf crammed to bursting with books about the stars.

Eddie didn’t notice her limp at work, but he did notice her new swagger. “It’s birth control,” he guessed as they did inventory that night. “That shit fucks with a girl’s hormones and changes her personality and shit. That’s what’s got you strutting around here. Or it’s some feminist shit, bet you started listening to Ani Difranco and decided to lop off all your hair and take charge of your womanhood or some shit, right? Or that pussy-ass boyfriend of yours with the Disney princess hair finally figured out how to use his dick.” He kept talking, teasing, goading, but Sasha only smiled. She’d considered leaving her severed toe in his jacket pocket, hanging in his employee locker in the back room, but in the end she’d known this would have been a mistake. He couldn’t have it.

Her stump healed prettily, more quickly than she’d thought it would. It was about a month before she felt ready to take off more of herself, and it seemed fitting to make it her other pinky toe this time. Her sense of balance hadn’t been terribly affected by the loss of one, but she figured she could make up for any residual issues by taking off the other one just in case. Ethan had invited her to a party with his classmates the night before, explaining to everyone that “my girlfriend is a hobbyist. A wanna-stronomer,” with a fond laugh. The name had stuck, all night. He’d been gentle in bed though, holding her in his arms and kissing her nose, her eyelids. He hadn’t noticed the  neat little stump of her toe at all.

It was easier this time. Like a scientist, she had a better understanding through trial and error of how to do this right now, the exact amount of force required to slice her left pinky toe off in one clean snap, and the amount of blood didn’t catch her off-guard anymore. Like a surgeon, she stitched over the new stump - something she’d neglected the first time, leading to more blood loss than had been necessary, but then women were always giving up their blood to the world - and she cleaned and packed it with a brisk efficiency despite the agony. Bearing up under pain was the most ancient gift women had, after all.

This time, she ate it.

Her other toe was too old to eat, by the time the realization had burned into her like a brand, but when the second one came off she knew what to do. Butter in the frying pan, spices, and she sauteed it until it was lightly charred all around. She nibbled the warm Sasha-flesh from the bone like a tiny chicken wing, felt it slide down her throat and into her belly, and she knew she’d found her answer. The bone went into the trash, where her hair had gone, but then she fished it out because her bones were the only clean parts of her and she was owed them. The weight of women was theirs to bear, but her bones belonged. She left it next to her vanilla candle from Bath and Body Works, in her bathroom where her bath and body worked.

Ethan finally noticed. “Fuck!” he said in a burst of unchecked shock when she’d toed off her socks to get into a warm bath with him a month later. “Sasha! What the fuck happened to your feet?” She’d almost forgotten by now, balanced and with about two percent of her safer from the world than it had been, and she blinked down at said feet. “Did you have some kind of accident?”

“No, not an accident,” she said, slipping into the water and resting her hands on his bare, freckled shoulders, but he wouldn’t be distracted.

“You lost your toes! How the hell did you lose both little toes?!”

“I didn’t lose them,” she tried to explain, kissing the side of his neck. He was rising though, dawning horror spreading across his face like an oil slick poisoning Nordic waters. It hadn’t occurred to her to consider whether or not he’d understand, or to care - something was stirring in her, breaking up, ice chunks in a spring-river thaw, and it was only in this moment that she became aware of how completely unimportant Ethan’s opinion of her body was to her. There was a satisfaction in his horror, the knowledge that it stemmed mostly from the fact that she’d done something to the body from which he took his pleasure that he couldn’t control. There was no going back, he could judge all he wanted but it wouldn’t put her toes back on. They were hers now, two tiny parts of her finally all her own.

Ethan was heaving out of the tub, a spray of soapy water falling away from him, nearly slipping and cracking his skull open on the sink in his haste to escape her new freedom. “We need to get you to a hospital! Why won’t you tell me what happened?”

Sasha’s laugh burst out of her, a bark, a siren. “A hospital? These toes came off weeks ago. I’m fine, Ethan.” Idly, she swirled her fingers through the water, the space he’d opened up around her more soothing than his presence had been. “It was just something that had to be done.”

“...Had to be…? Sasha, are you trying to tell me that you cut off your own toes?”

For a physics student, he could be awfully slow on the uptake sometimes. “Why don’t you get back in the tub,” she suggested, but he was backing away, hilariously naked, his wet and limp penis as vulnerable as she’d ever seen him while she lounged in her bath, a queen. He yanked a dry towel from the rack over her toilet and bolted for the bedroom, furiously drying off like a petulant child. She could hear him bustling around her bedroom, pulling on his clothes, muttering to himself about crazy-ass bitches. She closed her eyes, languidly relaxed. Finally, he appeared in the bathroom doorway again, fully dressed with damp hair and flushed cheeks. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on with you, but you need serious help,” he informed her, still convinced even now that his advice or opinions were necessary. “If I had your dad’s number, I’d call him. Just...get help, Sasha. I can’t believe what you did, Jesus Christ. This is too much for me, I’m out.”

And then he was, hauling a small armful of the things of his that he’d left there out to his car - two hoodies, a few DVDs, a shaving kit. Finally, things were quiet, but the water had gone cold. Sighing, Sasha rose dripping from the tub and considered her earlobes in the steam-fogged mirror over her sink. They would be next to go.

People had their earlobes removed for cosmetic reasons, she discovered that night on the internet. To seal up the gaping holes left behind from teenage phases when stretched lobes had been the cool cultural appropriation of the moment for all empty-rebellious white kids. Sometimes older people, whose earlobes were misshapen and sagging from years of heavy earrings, had it done. Straight razors, a sewing kit, and some more hydrogen peroxide, and the world was hers. Two bloody, tiny flaps of flesh weren’t much for her frying pan, but she made it work with some olive oil and seasoned salt. They burned in her belly in bed that night, a soothing amber light glowing brighter and brighter every day behind her honey eyes. Like her toes, no one in her life noticed their absence.

Ethan never tried to contact her again, he’d blocked her from his facebook after posting a vague update about “secretly unhinged” people who may or may not have been lurking in the personal lives of anyone, even his.  She supposed it was a lucky thing, considering that her nipples were next, and this was an adventure. The pain nearly drowned her on the night she did it, sawing away at the surprisingly tough and gritty flesh of her own areola until the entire nipple popped off like a tiny jellyfish carrying strings of fatty tissue and nerves that she had to pull out of her own breast to remove it completely. It was a few more weeks before she could bring herself to take the other one off, preserving the first in the freezer until she was ready to consume it. She’d become the Gordon Ramsay of properly seasoning and preparing her own human flesh at this point, having since learned that the best recipes to follow were ones intended for pork.

Eddie hired a new girl at work, who was soft and shy and slim with glossy blonde hair and wide blue eyes, downy lashes framing them in a perfect circle, perky breasts and a whispery voice. Her name was Julie, and Sasha found herself in the habit of hovering over her while she worked, aware of Eddie’s leering. She’d heard him laughing with Mike, another coworker of theirs at the store, about how “might as well give that bitch a raise already, she gives me a raise.” The dull throb of her missing nipples, the scar tissue slowly thickening where they’d been, seemed somehow worse every time Eddie made Julie laugh her nervous laugh, bright eyes darting. Her exhale of relief was only ever visible to Sasha whenever she came over to interrupt Eddie’s advances.

No one noticed anything until she took off a finger. It was a lot like the toes, but she’d bought a paper slicer online to facilitate the process. It had a thick, heavy green tiled platform and a razor blade as long as her forearm. By now the pain was an old friend, and after half a bottle of vodka, it was a simple thing to hack off her own finger. She handed in her resignation at the store, explaining that she’d been in a terrible accident and didn’t forsee the ability to work anytime in the immediate future. Her only regret was leaving Julie unprotected to deal with Eddie, but with any luck she’d soon figure out her own solutions. Hopefully those solutions would be sharp and heavy and soaked with blood too.

Her finger yielded a prettier bone, jointed and pointed, cleaned and gleaming after a stripping bath in her sink made of bleach and brine. She had enough money saved to live on for a while, and so she spent the next several months systematically amputating every finger on her left hand until it was a paw, a dense blunt thing lined with uneven stumps, the meat long since digested in her. She liked to look at it, lifting it to her face and running her tongue over the healing stumps, but now there was a problem. She had no way of taking the rest of her fingers off, especially not if she wanted to move on to a foot or two eventually. She sat up at night, stroking her paw-hand over her comforter, until she came to the answer. At least five fingers had to stay, to keep going, but she could probably remove and eat both legs with enough time and perseverance. Nothing worth doing was ever easy.

Her feet needed hacksaws, which were surprisingly hard to buy. They were distinctly male in the hardware store, lined up on a display as thick and proud as cocks, nearly as destructive and dangerous. They bent to her will that night though, or one of them at least, after she’d cleaned off and tied off her foot at the ankle. She’d watched Saw for inspiration, the first one, and the cellos and liquor carried her forth. The meat of it was gamey, stringy, but she swallowed it down with a sincere pride, after sewing off and bandaging her newest stump. She’d keep cutting until she finished off one leg, she reasoned, then she’d do the other. She had to wonder where, when, how she’d stop, though. How much of her could she protect? How much of her could be saved? This much, at least, she decided, chewing on a gristly cheek-full of skin and muscle tissue in her still, quiet apartment. Just a little more of her that they couldn’t have.

[bloodofthecovenants]

“Your heartbeat’s really loud.”

“Well i don’t think that can be really blamed on me now can it? what IS that thing?”

His sensitive ears are still ringing from the object he himself didn’t recognize in the other’s hand, It was a gun. Something he wouldn’t know, He’d existed before the creation of such a weapon and all he knew is made a really loud noise and it hurt his ears more then anything, enough to startle someone who wasn’t really all that jumpy to begin with.

“Because by arceus’s left toenail, Why does it make a noise that loud!”

[artificialqueens]

Royals (A The Selection AU Fanfic) Chapter 4 - TheQuartzMermaid

A/N: BITCHES I’M BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK! This was a wild end of semester, but I survived. Here’s Chapter Four (and yeah we’re meeting some new people today. YAY). Shoutout to Tiff and Vixen for running this blog and being awesome, and a special hiiiiiie to Shadowcat204 and Mr/Ms Anonymous, thanks for the support!

Again, if you’re not familiar with The Selection, I highly recommend you to read the prologue for this fanfic. If you like it enough, you can read the original books by Kiera Cass, they’re amazing.

YOU WANT SOME ROYALS? [HEEEERE WE GO IN LADY GAGA LANGUAGE]

Royals - Chapter Four (or The one in which Katya arrives at the palace)

Katya didn’t expect so much love from the people. Arriving at Angeles, nobody paid attention to Ottaro’s sweet Ivy Winters or St. George’s lovely Lineysha Sparks. The only other girl that competed neck-to-neck with Columbia’s belle for the support of the people of Illéa was Calgary’s stunning Violet Chachki. No surprise: the girl is a Two, a well known top model.

The four girls got along really well, despite first impressions. Ivy seemed too bubbly, Lineysha was called “Liney-shy” by her mates, and Violet came across as a bitch, but ended up being really nice – for a Two, at least. Katya also liked that they were very different on the outside, but shared interests – marrying the prince was clearly the biggest of them.

Compared to other girls, they spent little time traveling. At the airport, Katya followed Violet’s lead, talking to everyone she could as she pranced down the golden carpet. Ivy and Lineysha seemed to be doing well, but now even the celebrity was overshadowed by the blonde. Yes, they called her “Kathy”, but she couldn’t blame them. Katya only knew how to properly speak Russian because of her grandpa and the hours of classes he gave to his favorite vnuchka when she was little.

“Girl, they really love you”, Violet stated as Katya entered their car, a little hint of envy evident in her voice. “As if you’re not already a fan favorite yourself, Chachki”, Ivy rolled her eyes.

“Maybe they are just excited they’re getting another princess when this ends”, Katya suggested. “Queen Danica also came from Columbia, didn’t she?”

“My grandmother said she was from Carolina”, Lineysha opened her mouth for the first time since the landing. “But she must be wrong, she’s always calling me Lindsay.”

“She was definitely from Columbia.” Ivy said, trying to remember her History classes. “Queen Abby was from Carolina.”

“Are you extra dumb or just like to act it?” Anyone could have taken Violet’s words as an insult, but the other three girls spent enough time with her to know it was just her way. “Queen Abby was a Three, she came from Baffin. Queen Danica was a Four, from Columbia. The one from Carolina wasn’t even a queen.”

“Nicole Schreave, right? King Laswell’s grandmother.” Lineysha’s face lit up as she went for the gold. “But why are we discussing the previous queens’ provinces? Does it really change anything?”

“Not for us, but sure changes everything for Miss Katya here”, Violet looked straight into her friend’s icy blue eyes. “Our queen is from your province, milady. All the eyes will be on you.”

As if she wasn’t tense enough. There would be 31 other girls for her to beat – not in the literal way, or she would be expelled. She also wasn’t that experienced with boys, not that she didn’t want to, but because she was saving herself for the prince. Sometimes, when she’s nervous, her accent thickens a lot, making her English be almost unrecognizable.

Katya was really thinking about begging to someone to take her back to her lovely house in Columbia, where she could hide in her room and pamper Polina The Cat, when the car entered the palace’s walls.

“We’re here!” Lineysha’s voice was full of joy and excitement.

These gardens look like they come from a painting, Katya daydreamed. She payed attention to every little detail, to every plant and every person working out there – gardeners, guards, horse keepers… This was the beginning of the rest of her life: a life of luxury, opulence and happiness. Oh, and also with all the princess’ duties that come with it.

“Welcome, ladies!” A small woman greeted them as they entered the palace. She was all smiles and had two cute, deep dimples on her cheeks. “I’m Bianca Del Rio, we talked on the phone.”

“The phone call of our lives”, an over excited Ivy offered a hand to Bianca. The scene was quite amusing: the lady from Ottaro had to get down on her knees to talk to Miss Del Rio, as if the older woman was a child. “I’m Ivy Winters, from Ottaro.”

“Oh, I know you, darling. I know all of you girls.” Bianca’s smile now seemed forced and unnatural. “You must be Violet, Lineysha and Katherine, right?”

“It’s Yekaterina”, Katya politely corrected the lady, also offering a hand. Bianca held it firmly. “But I get it’s a little difficult to pronounce, so you can call me Katya.”

“Okay then”, this was everything the petite woman said before taking her hand back and turning to another person. “Please, someone, please! Take Miss Ivy to station five, Miss Lineysha to station three, Miss Violet to station seven,” she started looking for an empty station, eyes shining brightly when she finally found one, “looks like station ten is free. Take Miss Katya there, please.”

For the first time since the plane, the girls were separated. A young woman named Roxxxy came over to Katya and asked her something about her image. “I want to look like I just came out of a fairytale” were the Russian descendant’s words.

Then a group of workers helped her taking out her clothes and started scrubbing the hell out of her fair, sensitive skin. The sound of water almost made her piss herself – her bladder was almost as small as Violet’s waist. Oils, lotions… By the end of the process, Katya smelled like mint – the prince’s favorite aroma.

She was taken to another station for hair care. After saying she didn’t want to change the color or length of the golden cascade that fell on her back, the stylist began working. He cleaned, conditioned, created some layers, and finished with intricate braids, placed like a headband. Makeup and manicure were next. Nails and lips were painted red, her favorite color – and, according to the girl who did her toenails, also Prince Casey’s favorite.

When she was all done, Roxxxy led her to a rack full of dresses. “Pick one for now”, she said, “they’re all yours and will be taken to your room with your other belongings. These are day dresses, but you’ll be provided to evening dresses and night gowns too.” She thanked the woman and picked a random dress from the rack. It’s skirt was red and full of flowers. The top part was white, made of fine fabric, with a hands-shaped collar detail. For the shoes, she picked a red pair of low heels. She also had to attach a little pin with her name onto the dress. When dressed, a girl followed by cameraman went straight to her.

“Miss Yekaterina, can we ask you some questions? It’s for a Capital Report special on your transformations”, the reporter said with a sweet voice.

“Sure”, Katya found herself already looking at the camera.

She was ready for stardom.

[worryinglyinnocent]

Star Force: A Guide To Rumplurians - Part Two of... Who Knows!

Part One, exploring the Rumplurian religion, can be found here

BEFORE WE BEGIN:

====

Rumplurians are a fictional race of aliens found in a fictional TV show, Star Force, as mentioned in my rumbelle fic Friendships and Fandoms, an AU in which the various Once Upon A Time characters were the cast and crew of this fictional TV show. Gold played the Rumplurian chief medical officer, Dr Stiltskin, and Belle was his make-up artist (and also stood in as Stiltskin’s human wife, Lacey, when the actress due to play her had to pull out).

Friendships and Fandoms can be read here and @licieoic and I also wrote a few Star Force screenplays which can be read here.

====

You can all blame @woodelf68 and @ripperblackstaff for this. Thanks to them, I spent a ridiculous amount of time thinking about alien anatomy and reproduction and now, well, this happened. 

I need to thank @hedwighood and licieoic for some of the headcanons herein. Licie, I dunno, this might be useful for future Star Force episodes?

Anyway...

Are you all excited to learn more about scaly alien dicks?

I’m gonna take that as a solid yes! Without further ado let’s begin our second lesson in Rumplurians... anatomy and reproduction! As you’ve probably guessed, this post is not safe for work!

Disclaimer: Before we begin I’d like to remind you that this is all completely made up. No similarity to any actual aliens (or any aliens from other franchises like Star Trek etc) is intended. 

I’d really love to illustrate this essay with some naked Rumplurians but 

a) I’m bad at drawing

b) I’m even worse at drawing scaly alien dicks

c) I don’t have a scanner to upload said terrible pictures of scaly alien dicks

So you’re going to have to settle for some suggestive gifs and using your imaginations. 

*puts on David Attenborough documentary style voice*

To all intents and purposes, the Rumplurian doesn’t look all that different to the human, with the exception of the scales. When you look a little bit closer however... 

(I’m sorry I’m having way too much fun with this.)

Rumplurians are scaled all over. Yes, all over. They have no body hair, apart from that on their heads. (And eyebrows, because no eyebrows just looks... weird. We’re not quite sure where the eyebrows and head hair came from, but we think it’s the result of intermarriage with hairy races earlier on in the evolution chain.)

Their scales are not the same texture all over. The scales are generally smooth but will give a slightly rougher texture if rubbed in the wrong direction, with much smoother scales on the palms and soles (necessary for grip) and genitalia (necessary for enjoyable sexual encounters). 

Like a lot of scaled creatures, Rumplurians do shed, generally once a year. They don’t shed their skin all at once like snakes, that would just be creepy.

[Sheesh, I now have visions of Stiltskin shedding his skin on board Aurora while they were stranded and hiding it somewhere for Hook to find and freak out. Onwards because that’s just gross!]

The scales flake off individually, usually a good scrub in the shower with a loofah will get them all off. Their scales get greyer when they’re about to shed and are very itchy, so most Rumplurians like to slough off the shedding scales as quickly as possible. The new scales beneath are very sensitive for the first day after shedding. On the Rumplurian homeworld, it was perfectly acceptable to take sick days when shedding. 

Lacey particularly enjoys having fun with Stiltskin when he’s shedding. Many a happy shower has been shared.

Rumplurian skin is tougher than human skin and it takes slightly more force to puncture it; they tend to heal from scrapes and abrasions slightly quicker. Likewise, Rumplurian finger and toenails are much harder and more claw like. They’re fast-growing and naturally grow into points, and need regular filing, but they don’t like paring them right down like humans do their fingernails because the claws are a part of them and due to the way the nerves work, it can be painful to cut them too short. Mostly they file the tips to make sure they’re not sharp. 

(As has been mentioned in previous Star Force smut fics, Stiltskin keeps his index and middle claws clipped short. This is both for practicality and hygiene when performing complex operations and for Lacey, whose soft human insidey bits would not enjoy being accidentally scratched, and whose soft human insidey bits he likes putting his fingers into...)

(No, Rumplurian women do not have scaly vaginas but their inner walls are a lot tougher.)

(I cannot believe I just wrote the phrase ‘scaly vaginas’. Twice.)

Ahem. Onwards!

Since we’ve already veered into incredibly not safe for work territory, let’s stay here in the gutter! 

Rumplurians have long tongues (not like, chameleon long and prehensile, but longer than a human’s and more dexterous) and are very enthusiastic givers and receivers of oral sex. 

They aren’t cold blooded, they don’t need to sit under heat lamps of a morning to get them going, but their internal thermostat is set lower than a human’s and they come from a very warm planet. If they get too cold, they get sluggish. Which is the opposite of most humans, who get lethargic when it’s too warm. 

Lower core body temperature means... Yes, Licie, Stiltskin has internal balls. Rumplurian testes are kept in a kind of pouch inside the body, nice and protected from being kicked by... anything that might want to kick a Rumplurian dude in the nackers. However, the balls do drop down out of the pouch and hang down beneath the scaly alien dick in a human-like fashion (although they tend to be smaller than humans’ balls) when said Rumplurian is sufficiently aroused. The balls think “aha! time to make baby Rumplurians! let’s get to work, fellas!” and are very eager to get in on the action. So if you really want to successfully kick a Rumplurian in the nackers, wait till he has an erection first. 

*Worry has to go and take a break before she dies of either embarrassment and laughter.*

YES! ONWARDS! LET’S GET TO THE END OF THIS ESSAY BEFORE I DIE OF SHAME!  

Since we’ve got the lowdown on the downstairs bits, let’s move on to the act itself. Good grief, what am I writing here? *Worry takes a moment to question her life choices.*

Ahem. 

As you all know from my Star Force smutty fics (they’re on my masterlist somewhere), Rumplurian Baby Making is not all that different to Human Baby Making. Don’t worry, we’ll get onto the actual babies in a minute. Woodelf mentioned refactory periods and I spent way too much time thinking about them, so I’m going to talk about them. If a Rumplurian guy keeps receiving stimuli after having an orgasm he can be ready to go again fairly quickly - quicker than a human. However, if there’s kissing and cuddling and getting breath back time afterwards and his balls draw back up inside, then it will take him longer to get ready to go again - longer than a human. Rumplurian balls need time to recharge, dammit! 

And now for the Baby Making.

Rumplurian ladies don’t ovulate anywhere near as frequently as human women, generally only about twice or three times a year. They get super horny around this time because they don’t have as much opportunity for conception, but they don’t go mad, like animals in heat do. 

They also don’t menstruate because their womb is constructed differently. If conception is successful, then they’ll start to build up a shell like substance around the baby that grows with it. A full-blood Rumplurian pregnancy lasts five months, the babies are much smaller than human babies when born. When it’s time for birth, the shell shatters and the baby is born in a pretty much human way, although covered in pieces of shell. The rest of the broken shell is delivered as afterbirth, like a human placenta. 

Stiltskin can’t tell when Lacey ovulates, possibly because she doesn’t get as super horny as a Rumplurian lady would. He was amazed to find out that she does it once a month and to be frank he’s incredibly grateful for birth control methods. 

Half-Rumplurian babies are different and depend on DNA, each case is different. They follow gestation and pregnancy patterns of the mother carrying them, so Stiltskin and Lacey’s babies grew and were delivered in a human way, but a Rumplurian lady carrying a baby sired by a human father would have a five month shell pregnancy. 

Rumplurian ladies do breastfeed but their milk is very different to human breastmilk which can cause problems in mixed-race babies. Stiltskin and Lacey’s son Bae was fine with Lacey’s breast milk and it’s generally accepted that the human DNA in him is dominant. Their daughter Nim, however, rejected Lacey’s milk and also rejected Rumplurian formula. They tried a compromise whereby Lacey would express her milk and mix it with formula to create a mashup, but again that didn’t take and poor Lacey was frantic. 

Their Rumplurian friend, Dr Morgana, came up with the solution of giving Lacey some Rumplurian hormone supplements, which did the trick, giving her milk just enough Rumplurian hormones for Nim to be happy with, and my word, once she was happy with it, she was a greedy little girl. Lacey was so relieved!

The supplements made Lacey’s skin very dry and itchy as a side effect (since they’re designed for people with scales), but it was worth it for Nim, and Stiltskin helped by rubbing cream in all over... 

Right, I think I’ve exhausted my knowledge of Rumplurian Bits and Rumplurian Babies. If you have any questions, fire away! If you want to add your own headcanons, go ahead! If you want to write fic based on Star Force, feel free (just tag me in it because I wanna read it)!

If you think I should go away and think very hard about my life choices, don’t worry, I agree!

*Worry hits post and shakes her head*

[seventven]

Victim Behind the Gun

summary: reader and bucky escape from the states and find a small apartment in bucharest where they attempt to start their lives over. reader finds a job fixing electronics, bucky falls in love with ikea, reader is the big spoon and bucky finds comfort in painting. everything goes well until steve rogers shows up at their apartment and pulls them back into the world of politics, spies and super-soldiers. within just a few hours, it becomes evident that rogers blames reader for everything that has happened involving her father two years prior.

READ PART I HERE

word count: 22k+ (no im not fucking kidding i’ve been writing this one shot since july it took me 6 months to finish it im drained)

warnings: ca:cw spoilers (a lot of them but im being pretty vague so you pretty much have to know the plot of the film to understand this??), light swearing, violence, smut, slight inaccuracy in regards to the plot of the film, ptsd, my knowledge of hacking is basically nonexistent so don’t shit on me

a/n: this should’ve been turned into like a multiple chapters fic but i’m not about that life so enjoy spending two hours reading a single one shot.

let me know what you think here

inspiration: one / two / three

They left Pierce’s home before midnight. It was a starry evening and as Y/N and Bucky situated themselves in the taxi, the younger girl couldn’t help the feeling of heaviness in her chest. She stared with sad eyes as the house disappeared from her peripheral vision, the other buildings and trees on the side of the road turning into a blur of green, brown and red.

Next to her, Bucky noticed the way she bit into her lower lip and stared out the window for what felt like hours. He wanted to comfort her, the way she always comforted him even on his worst days. But a part of him was hesitant; after seventy years of nothingness it was difficult for him to get back to normal and understand regular human things. Over time he’d learn how to deal with emotions and know what to do when something like this happened, but until that time he would be left puzzled.

Bucky tried to remember what the old him would do in a situation like this. Faded flashes of memories appeared in his head if he thought hard enough; encouraging Steve to approach different girls and telling him it was far from difficult to make a woman swoon. It seemed that the old Bucky always knew what to say, what to do, and how to act in a way that could lift another person’s spirits.

But the new Bucky? The Bucky who after decades of torture, brainwashing and manipulation felt lucky he remembered even a snippet of his past? This Bucky… well, let’s just say comforting others wasn’t a talent of his nowadays. Or at least he didn’t think it was.

Y/N thought something different. When Bucky reached across the back of the cab and took her hand in his larger one, a pleasant warmth spread through her entirety, originating from the spot where their skin met. He squeezed her hand when she looked down at their laced fingers, and Y/N exhaled deeply before sliding across the bench and laying her head on his shoulder.

After what happened in her old bedroom earlier that day she experienced a new wave of feelings towards the soldier. Now, wanting to be close to him wasn’t only caused by her need to be there for him. What happened seemed to connect not only their bodies but also their minds, and for the first time in her life Y/N yearned for the feeling of knowing someone needed her as much as she needed them.

The taxi pulled up in front of a small hotel almost an hour later. Y/N knew that in order to avoid getting caught it would be better to leave town. She still had a few things to do before leaving the country and staying in her old house didn’t seem like the best idea.

They got a room on the second floor and while she talked to the lady behind the front desk, Bucky seemed to be looking around him, hands in his pockets, silently taking in his surroundings. It was pleasant; being able to notice how the world around him had changed over the years without his mind being preoccupied with thoughts of missions, killings and carnage. Steve managed to crack his outer shell on the Helicarrier earlier that day and he was grateful.

The cold water of the river helped, too. It all felt like waking out of a long, long nightmare and trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

The soldier didn’t sleep that night. He stayed awake with his back against the headboard and watched as Y/N’s chest moved up and down slowly with each inhale and exhale of breath.

A feeling of anxiety overwhelmed him. He feared that someone was going to knock down the door to their room any minute, point guns at them and take them back to the Hydra base.

He knew he was being paranoid; they were miles away from the facility and no one knew where they were staying. Hell, they didn’t even know they were together at all.

Bucky tried to sleep. He closed his eyes and wished for a state of unconsciousness but it just wouldn’t come. He turned and tossed and wished the girl sleeping on the second bed on the other side of the room would open her eyes and climb under the covers with him. But he just didn’t have the heart to wake her.

Eventually he did fall asleep, and stayed that way for roughly an hour before the sound of shuffling and bags opening woke him up.

He rubbed his eyes and blinked several times to clear his vision before he finally saw Y/N bent over her suitcase, her hands digging through the contents to find some clothes for the day. She had a white towel wrapped around her, meaning she had already showered and Bucky noticed that her toenails were painted a bright minty shade.

He sat up on the mattress, the fresh sheets falling down to bunch around his waist. Y/N heard the small movement and turned around, sending the assassin a tiny smile.

“Good morning,” she greeted him happily. For someone who had just fled their home and participated in the killing of their own father, Y/N surely did know how to act like nothing bothered her.

“Hi.” Bucky ran his metal hand through his hair, the segments of his thick fingers getting stuck in the brown waves. “Ouch.”

Y/N furrowed her brows and tightened her towel around her body before padding across the sandy carpet. She sat down next to Bucky and reached her hand up to where his hand was stuck in his hair.

“Let me take a look,” she giggled. Bucky seemed to relax, allowing the smaller girl to try and detach his hand from his head. It took some tugging and a few flinches from the soldier’s side but soon he was able to freely remove his hand.

“Hydra didn’t really care for cutting hair,” he told her when she was finished.

Y/N remained situated on the mattress, staring at him with her head tilted to the side and the edges of her lips curved upwards.

“I’m going to have to do something about it when I get the chance.”

When she didn’t respond, Bucky glanced at her questioningly with his eyes slightly narrowed. They held eye contact for several seconds before she finally spoke up.

“I like hearing you talk. You have a lovely speaking voice.” James looked down upon hearing her revelation, his fingers curling around the edges of the bed sheets. Y/N didn’t know if her statement related to a sensitive topic so she placed her index finger under his chin and lifted his head so she could look at him. Her insides tingled when she noticed the redness in his cheeks and she smiled softly before leaning over and placing a long kiss to his scruffy cheek.

She got dressed in the small bathroom connected to their room and came out with her hair dried and her shoes on her feet. Bucky was still in bed, smiling to himself with the thought of finally finding someone he could trust after all these God damn years.

“I have to meet up with one of my dad’s old friends,” Y/N stated as she bent over to tie her shoelaces. Bucky furrowed his brows, trying to understand the reasoning.

“He forges documents. He had a deal with my father that if something ever happened I’d be able to get a new identity.”

She looked up at him then, and smiled sadly. “He’s the guy who always sorted out your documents when they were ordering you to travel from country to country. He’s going to help us leave the States without getting caught.”

Bucky parted his lips and looked at her with concern.

“Isn’t he Hydra, though? Won’t he try to-“

“He’s not Hydra. He’s a college friend of Pierce’s. He doesn’t know my father is dead since he was the only person in the facility to know about his existence.”

“That’s smart,” stated Bucky. “That way he didn’t get caught.”

Y/N hummed under her breath and pushed herself up from the floor. She walked over to where Bucky sat and tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear.

“I’ll be back before three. There’s money in my bedside table if you want to go out and explore but please, be careful, okay?”

Bucky nodded, lifting his chin up and silently asking for another kiss on his cheek. Y/N obliged, peppering several kisses on the side of his face before grabbing her bag and heading for the door.

Bucky tried to fall back asleep, seeing as it was only eight in the morning. However, within minutes of trying to do so, he decided to give up and climb out of bed.

He got dressed and brushed his teeth before taking the money Y/N told him about and heading for the door. Bucky promised his roommate he would be careful but he couldn’t help the feeling of curiosity that made his stomach twist into knots.

Just before his last mission he heard someone mention a Captain America exhibition at a place called the Smithsonian. Bucky knew that going to it probably wasn’t the best idea and as he exited the hotel building with his room key tucked into the pocket of his thin jacket, he attempted to pick out the cons and pros of checking it out. Lucky for him, the pros seemed to outweigh the cons and soon he was taking the Subway to where the exhibition was held.

He paid the fee at the door and entered the museum with his head held low, his dark cap hiding his features as he sauntered around the spacious room.

It was weird; seeing pictures and watching recordings of things he had experienced but didn’t fully remember. He saw pictures of Steve who didn’t even look like Steve anymore; at least not the Steve he punched and kicked and shot on the Helicarrier the previous day. The Steve on these pictures was smaller, more naïve and innocent.

The exhibition described Steve’s journey from his pre-serum days all the way to present day. Bucky couldn’t help the smile from forming across his lips when he stumbled upon a photograph of the Steve he remembered looking out for.

Even though he didn’t remember much from before he left Brooklyn to fight in World War II, there was still a part of him that longed for those days. He missed the freedom, and laughter, and scrawny Steve getting into alley fights and Bucky having to step in.

He kept walking, scanning each and every display and reading everything they had to offer. And then he saw it; his own eyes looking back at him from across the room.

Bucky shuffled closer until he was standing face to face with a giant display about no one else but himself.

In the photograph, his hair was short and he was clean shaven, his expression neutral but focused. He was just about to begin reading the display when a male voice sounded from a speaker above his head.

“Best friends since childhood, Bucky Barnes and Steven Rogers were inseparable on both school yard and battlefield.”

The soldier glanced beneath the display where a small screen was showing black and white footage of himself and Steve, planning missions and laughing. A lump formed at the back of Bucky’s throat but he swallowed it down; he didn’t feel like he wanted to cry because really, there was only so many things he remembered about his past and honestly, after what happened to him throughout the years, he lost the need to be sentimental. He just felt sorry that he couldn’t go back in time to before all this shit happened.  

“Barnes is the only Howling Commando to give his life in service of his country.”

Bucky pursed his lips but remained stoic, hands in his pockets as he stared at the photograph of the old him. It was unsettling, to say the least; hearing someone speak of him as if he were dead. But maybe he was. Maybe the man he used to be died along with his memories and humanity when he was strapped to that chair. Maybe, just maybe – and he hoped he would be proven wrong – there just wasn’t a chance of getting the old, chirpy Bucky back.

“Excuse me?”

The soldier’s head turned slowly and he frowned when he didn’t see anyone. That is, until he lowered his gaze and noticed a girl who couldn’t be any older than ten looking up at him with her big doe eyes. She had rosy cheeks and light hair, tied into pig tails by two red ribbons.

“Would you be interested in buying some Girl Scout cookies?” Her grin was wide and she was missing one of her front teeth. It was then that Bucky noticed the box she held in her hands; it was filled with tiny packets of miniature cookies ranging from chocolate chip to strawberry icing.

Bucky stared down at her, silent, but her grin didn’t falter and she continued as if she didn’t notice.

“I’m here with my group today. We are raising funds for an animal shelter not far from here. Our leader thought it would be a good idea to try our luck here because it’s so busy. I recommend the caramel-”

She trailed off, brown eyes slowly growing in size as they scanned the image of James Buchanan Barnes on the display and then Bucky’s own nervous expression.

“Holy crap!” She exclaimed suddenly, lips parted. She was blinking at him, not trusting her own eyes. Bucky was blinking, too; over the exits and possible escape routes.

“It’s you! I need to get my friend. Stay he-"

"No, no," Bucky interjected, reaching out his hand towards the girl to stop her from rushing away. She didn't move, and Bucky dropped his metal hand, suddenly very aware of what he was doing and the child's eyes glued to the vibranium. He dug his hand back into his pocket and tried to pretend nothing ever happened.

"You have a metal arm? That's wicked cool!"

The young girl was grinning from ear to ear and Bucky felt utterly confused by her reaction. Most people showed fear and flinched away when they saw the prosthetic; he'd expect a child to be beyond terrified. Much to his surprise, this girl showed no signs of fear, only amazement and curiosity.

Bucky cleared his throat. "I mean... No one knows I'm here." He tried to remember how to speak to a child. "It's kind of a secret."

He attempted to curl the edges of his lips up into a smile but it just ended up looking forced and untrue.

"But she would die if she met you," the little girl pressed. "She did a project on you for history class. She got the highest grade."

The soldier pursed his lips, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. He stared down at the girl, not quite knowing what to say. One thing he did know, however, is that a pleasant warmth spread through his abdomen at a thought of a kid doing a project about his life pre-Hydra. He wished he could tell Steve about this.

"Please don't tell anyone I'm here," Bucky looked at the girl with his big blue eyes. "I'll do anything."

"Anything?" The little girl cocked her eyebrow. When James nodded, her grin widened.

"Buy my cookies. All of them."

Bucky furrowed his brows at her request.

"What am I supposed to do with a box full of cookies?"

The blonde shrugged her tiny shoulders, a smirk across her face.

"I don't really care. I just want to get an award for being the first one to sell everything. It's a family ticket to a theme park."

"I don't think that's a good idea. Is there anything else?" Bucky was getting frustrated, staring down at the child with a frown. He didn't like being blackmailed by adults, let alone little kids.

"Nope, it's either that, or I'm going to get my friend," she paused for a moment, scanning the area behind Bucky. "Oh, look. That's her right there. Emily-"

Bucky immediately interjected.

"Okay, fine. You win." He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out some cash. The little girl handed him the entire box and took the money. It turned out Girl Scout cookies were far more expensive than he assumed.

"Now, what do I do with all these?" Bucky muttered as his blackmailer counted the money. She seemed pleased.

"Eat them. Give them to your girlfriend if you have one. Whatever you want. They're all yours and I'm gone."

She waved a quick goodbye and skipped away, leaving a defeated Bucky with a box of cookies in his hands.

When he stepped through the door of his and Y/N's hotel room later that day, Y/N was already there and she was looking out the window, impatiently tapping her foot against the floor. She turned around when she heard the door closing and breathed out a huge sigh of relief.

"There you are. I thought something might have happened. Are you-"

Her eyes scanned his appearance, stopping on the box he held in his hands.

"Cookies?" She quirked an eyebrow.

Bucky sighed. "I was blackmailed into buying them by a nine year old with ribbons in her hair."

Y/N chuckled, making her way across the room and plucking a single packet of chocolate chip goodness out of the box.

“Charming,” she told him.

Bucky set the box down on the desk by the wall and glanced towards his bed. Several shopping bags rested on top of the freshly made sheets. On his pillow sat a passport, an airline ticket and what he soon learned was a piece of paper with an address.

He could feel Y/N’s eyes on him as he picked up the passport. It was for him; his photograph displayed on the first page and next to it a name; James Smith. Bucky scanned the rest of the passport and realised it looked like any other.

He set it down and picked up the small sheet of paper.

“It’s where we’re going to live. It’s a small apartment that I picked out today. I already contacted the owner and he’s ready to meet with us the day after tomorrow.”

Lastly, Bucky picked up the airline ticket, his eyes scanning the front.

“How’d you know?” He asked her, looking up at the younger girl over his shoulder.

“How’d you know that I’d choose Bucharest from the places you mentioned?”

Y/N smiled, swallowing the last cookie and wiping the corners of her mouth with her index finger.

“I just had a feeling.”

Bucky allowed the edges of his lips to curl upward, hooking onto Y/N’s heart when he turned around. He released a breath, looking at her from across the room and not really knowing what to do. Seconds passed before he finally parted his lips.

“Thank you,” he told her with a nod. “Not only for this but for everything you have done for me. Thank you.”

•••

The flight to Bucharest was long and tedious. Y/N had to admit, she was nervous about using fake documents to get through security but thankfully, no one seemed to question the authenticity of their passports.

Y/N allowed Bucky to rest his head on her shoulder and sleep for a few hours but he spent the majority of the flight looking out the window.

When they landed, they took a cab to another hotel and got a room for the night. In contrast to the previous two nights, Bucky fell asleep the moment his head hit the hotel room pillows and when Y/N emerged from the small bathroom, dressed in her pyjamas, she couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his face squished against the pillows. She crouched down beside the bed and stroked his hair softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead before, too, getting into her own bed and falling asleep.

•••

The apartment Y/N chose surprised Bucky. Honestly, he was expecting some sort of a cold, colourless ruin but he was happy to find that instead, the two bedrooms were painted with bright shades, that the tiles on the walls in the kitchen were all different colours and that there was even a vase of fresh flowers waiting for them on the coffee table in the sitting room; a small welcoming gift from the landlord.

“Do you plan on living in Bucharest permanently?” He questioned in a thick accent. He was a short, dark haired man with glasses and a moustache. He also had a good sense of humour and Y/N laughed at the jokes he made.

“Possibly,” Y/N answered, looking at Bucky who was staring out the living room window, hands hidden in the pockets of his sweatshirt.

The landlord smiled. “Ah, I understand. Young couples are all about travelling before settling down in one place these days. Like my daughter for instance. Makes life interesting.”

Y/N smiled sheepishly, deciding not to explain her relationship with Bucky to a complete stranger. The lesser he knew about them, the better.

They ended up signing the lease and when all the paper work was completed and the landlord had left, Y/N looked to Bucky who stood by the wall.

The younger girl strode across the wooden floor to where he stood, a bright smile stretching across her face when she took his bionic hand in her own.

“They’re not going to find you here. I promise,” she told him. “This is our home now. Let’s make the most of it.”

When Bucky nodded in agreement, she grabbed her bag and began tugging him towards the front door.

���Come on, let’s go get a few things to make this place feel like home.”

And although Bucky didn’t want to admit it at first, he absolutely fell in love with IKEA. He allowed the younger girl to lead him through various show rooms, and asked for his opinion on curtains and cushions and rugs and bed sheets.

Honestly, Y/N didn’t expect him to be as enthusiastic as he was about the whole thing. But Bucky felt comfortable around his new housemate and he found that home decorating was more enjoyable than he’d ever imagine.

Besides, it was nice to be doing something normal. Bucky liked Bucharest; no one knew who he was and he could easily blend in with the crowd. No one showed fear or screamed as he strolled through the store with his hands in his pockets and an old lady even smiled at him when he picked up the scarf she dropped and handed it back to her.

Not a single person spared a second glance in Bucky’s direction and it was nice; he enjoyed their absolute indifference and did what everyone else did, looking for things he liked.

Y/N stood with her back to him, attempting to pick a set of plates and bowls, seemingly undecided about which colour she should choose. Bucky stood at the side, casually glancing around him as people walked by, small children clinging onto their parents’ hands.

And then he noticed something intriguing. It was another one of the store’s show rooms; except that this one was decorated with colourful 40′s style love seats, polished wooden bookshelves, French art deco chairs, and framed posters of Billie Holiday, Bing Crosby and Count Basie.

Not really thinking much about it, Bucky sauntered towards the show room and stopped when he was standing next to one of the book shelves. This tiny example of a living room looked like something Bucky would dream of having before the war.

He gazed with awe at the patterned rug and the big lamps behind the sofa. The set up reminded him of home and when he looked down at what was placed on top of one of the lower bookshelves - a vintage record player - he couldn’t stop the smile from appearing across his face.

Bucky used the index finger of his flesh hand to trace the carved, polished cherry wood of the device, and he smiled fondly at it. He once had a record player pretty similar to this one; except that his own was in a poorer condition.

Snippets of memories involving listening to the artists whose photographs were perched on the wall appeared at the front of his mind and Bucky closed his eyes for a moment to savour the memory.

He could almost hear a saxophone playing in his mind and he desperately tried to cling onto the sound, but the noise of the store made it difficult. There was a child screaming incessantly somewhere behind him, the chatter of families and the clatter of pots and pans making it impossible to hold on to the blissful memory.

After a few more seconds, he pushed himself away from the record player and returned to where Y/N stood, scribbling something onto the page she grabbed when they first entered the store, a bright smile adorning her face. She hurried to fold the sheet of paper when she noticed Bucky approaching and the older guy cocked an eyebrow at her odd behaviour but didn’t question her about it.

•••

When they returned home, Y/N cooked dinner while Bucky worked on unpacking some of the smaller things they had bought. He carried the things Y/N chose for her room to the master bedroom, setting everything down on the bed.

So far, the two bedrooms were unfurnished, apart from double beds in both. That would soon change, however, as Y/N ordered desks and bedside tables and bookshelves and even weird, large exotic plants for the place.

Bucky spent some time in his own bedroom, making his bed and trying to figure out the weird lamp Y/N insisted was the "most awesome thing they'd find at IKEA". Every time he pressed the button on the side of the lamp, the colour of the light would change but the damned thing just wouldn’t switch off. In the end Bucky got angry and pulled the plug out of the socket.

When he was pretty much finished, deciding to leave his suitcase untouched until the furniture would be delivered, he strolled back to the kitchen where Y/N was finishing making some deliciously smelling spaghetti.

Bucky sat down at the tiny island in the centre of the room, watching as she swayed her hips to the music coming from the green radio she bought for the kitchen. Bucky found himself smiling as she quietly hummed to the tune of the song, completely unaware of his presence.

Watching her acting so carefree and relaxed when she knew there was a killer in her home made Bucky smile. He felt warmth in his chest at the thought of this girl giving him a chance to be a normal human being. She knew who he was, and Bucky was aware that she, herself, probably had some dark secrets - being Pierce's daughter and all - but he trusted her and the idea of losing her made his stomach tie into knots.

She continued swaying her hips as she stirred the sauce and when she spun around, a wooden spoon in her hands, to see Bucky watching her, she appeared mortified. Bucky's heart clenched at the sight of her cheeks turning a deep shade of red.

She smiled an embarrassed smile and pointed the long wooden spoon at Bucky.

"You scared me, mister."

Bucky reciprocated her grin and watched as she gave him a playful warning look and turned back to the pots and pans on the cooker.

“I didn’t mean to,” Bucky answered with a hint of a smile. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at the sight when she glanced at him over her shoulder.

She attempted to hide her grin before continuing to stir the sauce. “I hope you like spaghetti. I’m not a very good cook but I make some mean tomato sauce.”

James released a quiet chuckle, running his fingers over his dark hair. “I haven’t had a home cooked meal in what? Seventy years? I think it’s safe to say I won’t be complaining.”

•••

As weeks went on and Bucky became more comfortable, slowly adjusting to a normal life in the twenty first century, his other personality traits revealed themselves.

Bucky liked to tell jokes and as he regained more of his memories, he’d recite old punch lines which he remembered always made Steve crack up. They affected Y/N in a similar way and sometimes his jokes would have her rolling around on floor, clutching her stomach with tears rolling down her cheeks.

Sometimes his humour was subtle, innocent almost; other times it was crude and boyish. Every day Y/N waited to hear another silly joke from him and he never disappointed. Unless, of course, he was having a bad day.

After what he went through, it was only normal for him to have days where he didn’t have the energy to get out of bed or talk. But Y/N was always patient; never failing to climb into bed behind him and cuddle him for hours, or make him hot drinks and stroke his hair.

The first few months were especially difficult for Bucky; every night he was bombarded with dreams - sometimes nightmares - showing fragments of his past and every morning he’d find himself pondering over the images with a cup of steaming coffee in his hands, situated by the large window in the living room.

Speaking of the living room: it turned out that Y/N had seen the way he admired the 40s style showroom at IKEA and decided that there wasn’t a better way of making him feel at home, than decorating their own apartment in a similar manner. Without Bucky’s knowledge, she ordered the showroom’s art deco furniture, a patterned rug, those framed posters of 40s musicians and even the beautiful record player Bucky fell in love with.

It was a funny moment, really; the surprise on his face upon returning from an hour long walk around the neighbourhood to find their living room completely redecorated was beyond hilarious. He stood, motionless, in the doorway, for a moment even considering if he walked into someone else’s apartment by accident. But when Y/N emerged from the kitchen with a bunch of IKEA delivery guys behind her, holding a clipboard and pen in her hands, Bucky realised that she did all this, went through all this trouble just for him; just to make sure he felt comfortable and safe and at home.

Then, as expected, the delivery team left and the second they were alone, Bucky hurried across the room and enveloped his closest - and only - friend in a massive hug. Something within him just cracked at the realisation that this wonderful young girl in front of him cared so much about him.

He clung to her, and Y/N could feel his uneven breaths and a few hot tears on her shoulder. She held him tightly, stroking his hair and kissing the top of his head when he lowered himself onto the floor and pressed his cheek to her stomach.

“Hey, hey,” she tried to get his attention, delicately scratching his scalp and rubbing his shoulder. “Why are you crying?”

When Bucky didn’t respond she managed to loosen his grip on her middle and kneel down beside him. She held his face in her hands, smiling softly at the slowly returning light in his eyes, the new found hope for a brighter future.

“I just-” He had to pause, his adorable hiccup forcing Y/N’s lips up into a wider smile. “I just didn’t think I’d be able to feel happy again, and here you are, believing that after everything I can just lead a normal life. You can’t even imagine how grateful I am.”

It was true; the ex-assassin was beyond thankful to have Y/N in his life. He couldn’t comprehend the thought of being on the run from Hydra all by himself. The thought alone made a feeling of emptiness spread within Bucky’s chest and he’d gulp at the terrifying idea of not having anyone to help him adjust to this crazy new world.  

Y/N understood him, or at least she tried to, and that was all Bucky needed. She gave him all the time he needed to adjust; she was patient, caring, loving, and she never failed to make him smile, even on his worst days.

For the first couple of days they slept in separate rooms. Y/N didn’t know if Bucky wanted all this physical affection she was willing to give him, and she was terrified of being suffocating. At first glance Bucky didn’t seem like the kind of person who liked to be held or kissed; especially not after the stuff others had put him through.

But the reality was that Bucky hated being alone at night. Over the years he had spent being Hydra’s puppet, he grew accustomed to constant noise, discomfort, and pain. It was weird for him to lay on a soft mattress under a fuzzy blanket in a completely quiet room, no feeling of approaching danger gnawing at his mind. The peace and the silence were... deafening, almost. He despised being able to hear the steady beating of his own heart, or the rustling of the sheets whenever he changed his position.

For three nights he struggled to keep his eyes closed and his mouth shut, but when the exhaustion got to him on the fourth night, he decided he was sick of the silence. So he grabbed his pillow and quietly exited his room, maneuvering around the brightly coloured furniture in the pitch black hallway until he reached his destination.

Y/N’s bedroom door was ajar and there was light peeking out from the narrow space between the door and the frame. The lamps weren’t on, Y/N just had a habit of forgetting to shut her curtains and the moon was high up in the sky that night, illuminating her room and casting a silver light on her sleeping figure.

Bucky pushed the door open ever so slightly and just watched her for a moment. She was tangeled in her white sheets, clutching a large pillow to her chest as if she believed it was a person, her face buried in the snowy fabric and Bucky couldn’t stop himself from gulping, wanting so bad to just be that pillow.

He stood there for two, maybe three minutes, captivated by the serene expression across her face, one leg draped over the mess of sheets on the mattress. She was only wearing a black tank top, a pair of dark purple boyshorts covering her lower half. Her mouth was parted slightly and she just looked so soft and warm and inviting in the eyes of Bucky.

She stirred in her sleep, slowly waking when she detected the presence of someone in the room. Bucky’s heart sped up as she lifted her top half just slightly off the mattress, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Bucky?” She murmured, voice laced with sleep. She blinked her eyes several times and then looked at him in concern, wondering what on earth he was doing watching her sleep at one in the morning. But then she figured he probably had trouble falling asleep and before Bucky could open his mouth and apologise for coming into her room, she slid back on the mattress to make space and lifted the covers.

“Come here,” she told him, motioning with her head. Bucky’s mind didn’t register what he was doing as his feet carried him towards the bed but the next thing he knew, Y/N was wrapping him up to make sure he was warm and then her arm was sliding around his waist, her chest pressed to his back and she was kissing his shoulder.

“I’m sorry for just standing there, watching you,” Bucky whispered after a while and Y/N expelled a soft laugh.

“You don’t have to explain yourself. I’m more than happy to have you sleep with me.”

Much to his own surprise, Bucky did sleep that night. Once he was comfortably settled on the mattress, the sound of Y/N’s quiet breathing lulled him to sleep in a matter of seconds. For Bucky, there wasn’t a thing in the world that made him feel quite as relaxed as Y/N’s arms around him, her lips pressing feather light kisses to his flesh.

And, just like that, it became a routine. The next evening when Y/N’s yawning signalled that it was time to head to bed, Bucky found himself wondering if she’d let him sleep with her again. He didn’t dare ask, figuring he didn’t want to be annoying, but Y/N gripped his metal hand in hers and tugged him towards her room, letting him sleep with his head on her chest that night.

A month after their move to Bucharest Y/N stumbled upon a page in the newspaper, advertising a job at a nearby electronics store. Truthfully, she wanted to return to the real world and develop a routine for herself.

Sitting at home all day was nice for a while; she could read and spend time with Bucky but she was starting to miss the outside world. With her qualifications she was hired within moments of entering the store and she made sure to pop into a shop and buy some champagne so herself and Bucky could celebrate.

When she got home, however, taking off the uncomfortable shoes she decided to wear to the interview and setting her shopping bags on the floor, she quickly realised that Bucky wasn’t present in the lounge where he usually resided in the afternoons.

Y/N removed her jacket, glancing around the living room and furrowing her brows at Bucky’s absence. She figured he might have went out for a walk around the neighbourhood or something, so she decided not to worry and instead head to her bedroom to change. On her way, she passed Bucky’s room and stopped in her tracks at the sound of music coming from behind the door.

After Bucky began spending the nights in Y/N’s bed, his old room became entirely empty. Bucky’s clothes were moved to the giant closet Y/N ordered, and extra pillows were placed on her bed so he would be comfortable at night.

Y/N was silent as she lightly pushed the door open and peeked her head out from behind it. When she realised that Bucky was, in fact, present, she stepped inside.

Her eyes scanned the room first. The double bed which came with the apartment was standing on its side against the wall to make move floor space. The record player had been moved from the living room and it rested on the window sill, playing a quiet jazz tune as Bucky sat on the floor with his back facing the door.

The wooden floor was covered with newspaper, a selection of different sized containers of paint scattered across the room, and in the centre, among buckets of liquid colour sat Bucky.

Y/N noticed that his hair was pulled back into a low bun and that his metal arm was raised but she couldn’t see what he was doing from her current spot. The brunette wasn’t wearing a shirt, only a pair of tight fitting maroon sweatpants and the scars on his back were visible from where Y/N stood by the door.

It was only when Bucky sensed her presence in the room that she finally caught a glimpse of what he was doing. Bucky turned his head to look at Y/N over his shoulder, and that’s when she noticed the canvas in front of him, a long brush in his hand.

For a moment, Bucky looked like a deer in headlights but when Y/N closed the door behind her and slowly made her way towards him, kneeling down behind him and wrapping her arms around his middle, Bucky relaxed.

Their eyes fell upon the unfinished painting in front of them and Bucky waited for Y/N to say something, but instead she just pressed a kiss to his bare shoulder and admired his work.

The painting was a rather messy one, a combination of acrilic and watercolour mingling together to show a chaotic portrait of Steve. There were droplets of watered down paint running down the canvas, dripping onto the newspaper covered floor and staining it with various shades of blues, pinks and purples.

The look in Steve’s eyes was one of absolute defeat and Y/N’s mind wandered back to the day Bucky told her about recognising his old best friend during a mission. Y/N instinctively wrapped her arms tighter around the brunette’s middle, as if in a feeble attempt to protect him from his painful memories.

“I don’t remember much about him,” Bucky muttered quietly, placing a hand over the arm Y/N had wrapped around his middle. She kissed his shoulder once more, encouraging him share his thoughts if he wanted to.

Bucky sighed. “I don’t remember much, but I wanted to put down what I do remember,” he stated. “A way of... making sure I don’t forget, I guess.”

The brunette’s voice was soft as his blue eyes studied the painting in front of him. He didn’t consider himself to be a particularly good painter, but the piece depicted what it was supposed to. Steve looked distraught, surprised, maybe even a little terrified.

“I can always help you get in contact with him, you know?” Y/N stated quietly, hating the idea of Bucky not being able to reconnect with his childhood best friend. The two obviously had a profound connection and who was she to stop them from rekindling their friendship? Maybe she’d be putting herself in danger, but Bucky deserved to be happy. Besides, if Steve was as great as everyone made him out to be, then he wouldn’t do anything that would risk Hydra finding out about Y/N’s and Bucky’s whereabouts.

“No,” Bucky shook his head at the idea, yet his eyes remained focused on the painting in front of him. He closed them for a brief moment when Y/N pressed another kiss to his shoulder, squeezing him tighter in her embrace.

“Why not? You care about him, and he cares about you. I don’t see why you wouldn’t want to speak to him.”

Bucky released a breath, tearing his gaze away from the mess of paint and turning his head so he could look at Y/N instead. Her expression showed curiosity and concern; concern for Bucky’s happiness.

“I don’t remember him that well,” he lied. “Maybe sometime in the future. When more memories come back to me. Until then, all I need is you.”

He smiled and kissed the tip of her nose, pushing himself up from the floor and pulling her up to stand next to him. Y/N glanced at the painting of Steve one more time as Bucky tugged her out of the room and into the kitchen.

It wasn’t that Bucky didn’t want to see Steve because my God, he wanted to more than anything. He yearned to feel Steve’s hair tickling his cheek as they hugged, or hear his dorky giggle whenever Bucky cracked a stupid joke. He wanted to talk to someone who understood what life was like back in the 40s; someone with the same life experiences as himself.

Y/N was an amazing help in getting Bucky back into the real world. But despite her caring nature, there was still something that was missing; a brother. And unfortunately, that wasn’t something Y/N could be to him, no matter how hard she’d try. Not that Bucky wanted her to; what she was doing for him up to that moment was more than enough, and Bucky knew that he was developing feelings for her.

And much to his own surprise, those feelings weren’t exactly platonic. He cared for her as if she were family and he’d stop at nothing to protect her, sure. But there seemed to be a less innocent undertone to Bucky’s feelings when he really thought about it.

Firstly, sleeping together and exchanging kisses wasn’t a thing that you’d do with any old friend; especially not the kind of kisses where they’d be lying in bed together and he’d be biting her neck and she’d be struggling to breathe. At first Bucky saw it as a distraction from his gloomy thoughts but as weeks passed, he’d find himself craving the softness of her mouth against his.

He tried to brush it off, saying it was his boyish nature making a come-back. He remembered being quite the ladies man back in the day and he figured a part of him still yearned for the closeness of an attractive girl.

Soon, however, he realised that he was completely indifferent to cute girls he’d pass on the street. He didn’t care for the attractive girl who worked at the local library that always seemed to smile a bit too flirtatiously at him, or the cheeky barista who had his favourite coffee memorised.

Bucky didn’t think about any of them longer than necessary and when it came down to relieving his pent up sexual frustration in the shower, it was always Y/N’s pretty lips and soft skin he thought about.

Bucky longed for her comforting touch and feather light kisses. He knew Y/N was the only person in the world who could make his dark thoughts vanish with as little as a tight embrace or stroking his hair.

He cared for her so deeply that the last thing he wanted to do was to put her in danger. After all, she had a perfectly nice life that she could’ve easily kept if it weren’t for Bucky. She could still be living in her giant house in Washington, her father could still make her breakfast every morning and she could be working undercover for Nick Fury.

It was Bucky who took that life away from her and despite knowing she threw it all away willingly, Bucky still felt guilty. It was because of him that her father was dead and that she was on the run in a completely foreign country with no old friends to talk to. It was just the two of them, trying to rebuild lives for themselves without allowing the past to haunt them.

This is why Bucky took it upon himself to make sure nothing would sabotage that. And even though he wanted to see Steve, to talk and be held by him, he decided against it. If Steve knew about his whereabouts he’d come to Romania, and that, in turn, would raise some serious questions within S.H.I.E.L.D.; possibly Hydra, too.

He wasn’t going to risk anyone finding out about where they were; he wasn’t going to risk putting Y/N in danger like that. If he could go seventy years without seeing Steve, he could go another few decades until they would both be old and not remember each other at all.

And so weeks passed, then months, and then a year.

As time passed the walls of their apartment became covered with paintings depicting Bucky’s past, and then, in places like their bedroom, the coloured canvases showed images of Y/N’s sleeping form tangled in the sheets, or her sitting on the bed with a book in her lap or just going about normal, every day things.

Bucky liked the contrast between the dark and scary paintings that covered the walls of the hallway and the sheer purity and tranquility of those in their bedroom. He liked to paint Y/N because it relaxed him. A sense of fear was always present when he tried to put his past down on paper, but when it was Y/N he painted, all he felt was absolute peace.

It was one cold winter night when Y/N woke up to an empty bed. Instead of sleeping next to her, Bucky was situated on a chair at the foot of the bed, one leg crossed over the other, a sketchbook perched on his lap. He wasn’t wearing anything apart from a pair of black boxer briefs and it took him several seconds to realise that Y/N was awake.

“Are you drawing me sleeping again?” Y/N smiled at him lazily, rolling onto her side and draping a leg over the mess of sheets next to her.

Bucky sat with his back facing the window and the street lamps outside cast a subtle glow on the page in front of him. It was almost four in the morning but the sound of drunken teenagers outside their apartment building still resonated through the open window. A chilly breeze made Y/N shudder, goosebumps rising on her skin.

It wasn’t a surprise, really. The temperature in the apartment was unbearable in the evening and all windows had to be opened before they went to bed. Hours later, however, Y/N found herself a little bit cold in just the lavender shorts and simple black bralette she wore to sleep.

Y/N stayed silent for several seconds, watching Bucky’s eyebrows knit together as he continued drawing. His lips were pursed together and his eyes narrowed in concentration; Y/N found the sight of him to be beyond captivating.

After a while, however, she decided to force herself up into a sitting position and push her messy hair out of her face. She glanced at Bucky again, smiling a little as she got onto her knees and moved across the mattress towards him.

“Can I see?” She asked quietly, giving Bucky an innocent grin and leaning forward.

“Nope,” Bucky grinned back, shielding the sketchbook from her view.

Y/N pouted as she leaned towards him and placed her hands on his thighs, her knees glued to the mattress and her middle hovering above the space between Bucky and the bed. The brunette twisted his torso in the opposite direction, a laugh escaping his lips at Y/N’s stubborn nature.

“Come on, Buck. Let me see,” she whined incessantly, reaching out further and attempting to grab the sketchbook. Not really thinking much about it, she lifted her knee from the mattress and placed it on Bucky’s chair; a second later she was sitting in his lap with her legs folded on either side of him.

Bucky laughed again and dropped the sketchbook onto the floor by the chair, a place unreachable for the younger girl who had situated herself comfortably in his lap. Bucky’s fingers were quick to grab onto her hips, holding her in place and preventing her from leaning down and grabbing the object she was so desperate to get her hands on.

“You love to torture me, don’t you?” She shook her head in disbelief, a smile stretching across her face.

Bucky pretended to think for a moment but the dorky look on his face only made Y/N laugh harder.

“Only sometimes,” he answered with a casual shrug of his shoulders, hooking his bionic arm around his friend and pulling her closer. Y/N yelped as their chests collided and she expelled a contented breath upon burying her face in Bucky’s neck.

He held her close, liking the feeling of her warm flesh pressed against him and enjoying the innocent affection she granted him in the form of feather light kisses on his jaw and neck.

“Why are you up at 4am anyway?” Y/N asked quietly, tilting her head back to scan his expression.

Bucky sighed and squeezed her tighter in his embrace, readjusting her in his lap and pressing his scruffy cheek to her chest. Y/N ran her fingers through his messy hair, stroking his scalp slowly.

“Was it a dream?” She was worried he had another one of his nightmares; she despised the affect these bloody memories had on him.

Bucky hesitated, hiding his face in her bralette to make sure she didn’t see the redness on his cheeks. “Something like that,” he finally managed, but when Y/N placed her index finger under his chin and lifted it slightly to see the unmistakable blush across his face, it all clicked in her mind.

“That kind of dream,” she said, more to herself than to him. “And that’s why you couldn’t sleep?”

“Yeah,” Bucky confirmed, closing his eyes in mortification. “I haven’t had a wet dream since I was a sixteen year old boy in pre-war Brooklyn.”

Y/N used his moment of absolute embarrassment to slide off his lap and onto the floor. She had his sketchbook in her hands before Bucky could even open his eyes and by the time he reacted, she was already sitting on the floor with her back pressed to the side of the bed, eyes glued to the sketch in front of her.

Bucky knew he had been defeated and there was no point in trying to get his sketchbook back now; she had seen everything there was to see and he was sure that his face reassembled the colour of the star on his left arm. He slowly slid onto the floor and sat down next to her, glancing at the sketchbook in her hands and beating himself up for putting the image in his mind down onto paper. He should’ve just kept it to himself.

“This is... wow,” Y/N’s wide eyes couldn’t seem to look away and she felt a weird fuzzy sensation in her lower abdomen. Sure, Bucky had drawn and painted her before, but never like this.

None of the paintings hanging from the walls in their apartment depicted her from this angle, in this position and especially not in so little clothing. She tilted her head to the side, looking at the drawing from a different perspective and realising that it was her turn to turn the colour of the communist flag.

“So this is the image that kept you up?”

Bucky remained quiet, hands folded together and resting on his lap. He looked like a child waiting to be yelled at for doing something they shouldn’t have, but Y/N wasn’t angry. In fact, she was blown away with the sheer intensity of the drawing.

And despite it being based on what she looked like sleeping - what she looked like only minutes earlier - there was a weird forties feeling to it. Maybe it was the sexy yet modest femininity of it, or maybe it was the hat she had seen in pictures of Bucky just before he was sent to war. On Sergeant James Barnes it looked adorable but on Y/N it just looked silly, especially considering the rest of the uniform was missing.

Y/N was looking back at her own eyes and she couldn’t quite believe it was her. The face looked like her own, as did the body, but the eyes - blazing, almost whispering “come to me” - looked like the eyes of some other woman; a woman more sexually experienced and open than herself. The thought of lying naked in a bed with a soldier hat on her head and a look of overwhelming need for what could only be sex had never crossed her mind.

Now that she was looking at it, however, the idea didn’t seem that bizarre. In fact, she was picturing it and soon, she felt an unexpected longing to bring this simple sketch to life.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Bucky announced, trying to play it cool. He reached out and tried to pry the sketchbook from Y/N’s hands but she kept a strong hold on it.

“I like it,” she told him suddenly, tearing her eyes away from the page and lifting her head up just long enough for Bucky to notice that she, too, had turned an impossibly red colour. He smiled at her shyness.

Y/N moved to face Bucky, sitting on the back of her calves and continuing to study the drawing. She bit her lip lightly, looking up at Bucky with a smirk she was evidently trying to hide.

“So, uh... the hat?”

Bucky scrunched up his nose as if he had tasted something sour. He looked cute; so embarrassed and at a loss for words yet still amused with the situation. Y/N’s smile remained as she asked:

“Why did you decide to put it in there?” She nodded towards the drawing which now rested on the floor next to them.

Bucky looked to the ceiling as if searching for answers, and Y/N giggled at his attempt to give himself more time to think of a suitable reply.

“I don’t know,” he answered finally. “I mean, before the war I had this fantasy of a girl I was in love with wearing my uniform... or rather the hat and nothing else. I know, it’s dumb but it was just this fantasy I had. It seemed like a funny and cute thing to witness.”

His shrug had Y/N quirking an eyebrow. “Who was the girl?”

Bucky smiled, a lazy kind of smile that made it seem like he was looking back fondly at the memories. Then he expelled a laugh in the form of a tired breath.

“There was no girl. I thought it would be a nice thing to come home to, you know? But the place where the girl’s face would’ve been was always vacant; just waiting for me to meet someone I’d care to come home to every evening.”

Y/N felt a pressure in her chest, realising that now her own face filled that vacant spot in Bucky’s heart. She leaned forward when Bucky finished speaking and pressed a long kiss to his cheek, letting her lips linger there for a few moments.

When she pulled back just slightly, Bucky turned his head so that he was facing her and hesitated before moving closer and capturing her lips with his.

Y/N’s hands slowly moved to his face and she held it in place, fearing that he’d pull back sooner than she’d like him to. Lucky for her, that didn’t seem to be an issue because only a few seconds later the brunette was gripping her sides and pulling her closer, encouraging her to straddle his thighs the way she had before.

The kiss wasn’t broken as she moved forward on her knees, situating herself comfortably where Bucky wanted her. His mouth moved slowly against her own, wanting nothing more than to enjoy every moment to the fullest. Bucky was sitting up straight, his back no longer pressed to the side of the bed and he was putting every bit of emotion he had into the sweet exchange. He could feel every worry and every bad thought he had evaporating with the feeling of her delicate hands holding his face and stroking the back of his head. He could feel himself melting under her, feel the tension disintegrating, his body succumbing to the relaxation that kissing her brought him.

It took a while for it to transform into something more than just innocent kissing on their bedroom floor. But as minutes passed and Bucky felt his mind losing the need to be overly cautious, he stopped kissing her lips and moved further south, connecting his mouth to her uncovered collarbone and feeling her shudder when his breath hit her skin.

Y/N was surprised at first; they had only ever really done this once and the circumstances were entirely different. Last time she could feel his need to release his frustration and tension; it was quick and messy. Y/N didn’t think that they’d ever do it again; she thought it was a one time thing and that they’d go on pretending that it never happened.

She wasn’t going to lie, however. She had thought about and imagined what it would be like to do it again. This time without the fear of someone barging in, or Y/N’s anger and Bucky’s suffering mingling into the tension between them to form a lethal combination. And finally, after several months, she was getting an opportunity to find out for herself what it would feel like.

Her mouth fell open and a gasp escaped when Bucky pressed his tongue flat to the base of her neck and she could feel the corners of his lips curling up at the reaction he provoked. His mouth formed a perfect ‘o’ shape as he allowed his instincts to kick in and sucked a small patch of skin until it turned pink and purple.

When he withdrew, Bucky’s own mouth was swollen and his eyes blazing, begging for Y/N to agree to bring this whole thing to a new level. She didn’t have to be told twice, her own need for something more than just innocent kisses clouded her judgement and the next thing she knew, her fingers were buried in Bucky’s hair and she was leaving hot, open mouthed kisses down his jaw, neck, and finally his chest.

Every movement and every action was fuelled by their need for each other. Bucky was breathing heavily and he had thrown his head back as Y/N’s lips moved down his body and he could already feel himself throbbing like a pathetic teenage boy about to lose his virginity to the hottest girl in school. He was greedy and impatient and Y/N’s mouth felt so good on his heated skin he feared that if she thought it was a good idea to tease him, he’d actually spontaneously combust.

But she wasn’t one for torturing him - at least not that night - and it wasn’t long before she was pulling Bucky’s boxers down his legs and giving him a cheeky wink before situating herself between his parted outstretched legs and pushing him past the swell of her lips. Only a short moment passed before Bucky succumbed to his primal instincts and tangled his metal fingers in her hair, the other fumbling with the strap of her bralette, wanting so bad to just rip it off.

“Fuck,” he muttered, expelling a deep groan and throwing his head back. Bucky had almost forgotten how good oral sex could feel and the sight of Y/N between his parted legs wasn’t helping to delay his imminent orgasm. Her mouth felt warm and wet around him and the tiny sounds she was making - the quiet hums and heavy breaths every time she’d come up for air - had Bucky whimpering out her name.

Bucky’s cock looked so good in her hand, her feminine fingers wrapped tightly around the hard, pulsating shaft. But the sight of the swell of her lips against the bulbous head, or her pink tongue licking up the tiny beads of pre-come, had the brunette gasping for air, eyes watering with tears at just how amazing she was making him feel.

For a moment Bucky’s vision remained glued to the ceiling, lips parted as he wondered how it was possible for him to feel so much pleasure after decades of nothing but suffering. A mere few months ealier he believed it was impossible to escape from the pain; yet here he was safe, happy, with the girl he knew he was falling in love with making him feel things he didn’t know were possible.

He pulled her hair lightly and she moaned around him and glanced up. Y/N’s eyes met Bucky’s and he watched as his length disappeared into her mouth again, deeper than before.

“You’re gonna have to slow down a bit,” Bucky told her, a bit breathless. “I’m not going to last long if you keep doing that.”

But Y/N was adamant on making him feel good and refused to go easy on him. Her eyes watered as he hit the back of her throat, time after time, and it wasn’t long before Bucky’s metal fingers were tightening the grip they had on her hair and his mouth was falling open, tiny little groans falling past his swollen lips.

He came in short hot spurts down her throat and when he was absolutely spent Y/N began peppering sweet little kisses up his stomach until she reached his neck.

“Was that any good?” She asked quietly, kissing the spot right below his ear and feeling Bucky’s hands begin to wander. He stroked her sides, still a bit breathless, and then he was turning his head and connecting his mouth to her jaw.

“You’ve no idea,” he responded, a yelp escaping her lips when he lifted them both from the floor and placed her gently on the bed, smiling coyly before getting to work on returning the favour.

For two years everything was going beyond fantastic. Bucky was slowly recovering, taking his time to go back to a normal life. He was painting every week and even sold some of his works to a small art gallery in town where people could admire his talent. He took up cooking, and found enjoyment in surprising Y/N with new recipes he’d find on the internet. He befriended the guy who lived in the apartment opposite theirs and took care of his dog whenever he’d leave town to see his family.

Bucky was happy; he was living a normal life and he could go out for walks every evening and watch the leaves falling in autumn and curl up next to the girl he loved when he was cold and just enjoy the wonders of a simple life.

As for Y/N she grew to love her job. Fixing electronics was something she liked and everyday she’d wake up happy to go to work. It wasn’t a difficult job which required a lot of energy; for Y/N, going to work every morning was like a hobby she was getting paid for. Over the two years they spent in Bucharest she had learned the language and even convinced Bucky to go on a week long trip to explore the country’s places of historical value. Long story short, Bucky really fell in love with the Dracula Castle and upon their return home, he read Stoker’s “Dracula” and painted the spooky fortress.

James Buchanan Barnes was a creative soul and took up many artistic activities. At the beginning it was just painting and drawing, but as time passed things like cooking, writing and even knitting were added to the list. Y/N found the sight of him sitting under a blanket in the living room with knitting needles in his hands and a collection of different coloured wool next to him, a concentrated frown adorning his face, to be beyond amusing. His first finished product was a thick yellow scarf that Y/N loved to wear to work on cold winter mornings.

Unfortunately, their time of peace came to an abrupt end two years after their arrival to Romania.

Initially, the day started off like any other. Y/N woke up first and peppered kisses all over Bucky’s face until his eyes opened and he was awake. The brunette made breakfast as she showered and got dressed, and by the time she was ready to go to work, Bucky had placed a whole stack of pancakes on the kitchen island for her to eat before leaving.

She kissed him again when she entered the kitchen, thanking him quietly for the breakfast and munched on her food while Bucky worked on preparing eggs and bacon for himself.

“So, what are your plans for today?” She questioned casually, taking another bite of her pancake.

Bucky flipped the eggs and grabbed his mug of coffee, taking a generous sip as he leaned against the counter. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll do a bit of grocery shopping.”

Y/N finished her food and then headed to work, a smile present on her face as she went about her business at the store. It was a pleasant day; the place wasn’t particularly busy and she had lunch with one of her co-workers before heading home for the day.

Bucky’s day, however, was far from relaxed. Sure, he headed to the library and returned the books he was finished reading. But upon arriving at the market where he did most of his and Y/N’s grocery shopping, he realised his day was only going to get worse.

It started off when the guy working in a kiosk sent him a fishy look. Bucky pretended he didn’t notice, but the guy kept staring at him and when Bucky decided to step closer, he exited the small booth and ran.

Then there was the newspaper which had his face plastered onto the front page, announcing that Bucky had been involved in a bombing in Vienna on the same day he spent in bed with Y/N doing absolutely nothing.

The article led to Bucky rushing home and finding no one else but Steve Rogers standing in his and Y/N’s living room, looking at the paintings on the wall with an expression of utmost disbelief.

The piece he was looking at was Bucky’s very first painting, depicting his blonde best friend the day he was ordered to kill him.

Bucky felt strangely uncomfortable having Steve look at the painting. The nervousness of having Steve so close to him dominated the thoughts he had about being hunted down by the police.

Steve turned slowly upon realising he was no longer the only person in the apartment and Bucky honestly felt at a loss for words. His mind was absolutely blank and looking at Steve standing across the room in his silly American flag uniform made him feel both scared and surprisingly relieved.

Then his mind wandered back to Y/N and he wondered how he’d explain all of this to her.

“Do you know me?”

The question could’ve been answered one of two ways, and thinking about the circumstances and consequences, Bucky figured the best thing to do was to lie.

He avoided contacting Steve for two years in fear of putting Y/N in danger but there he was, at their apartment, and Bucky knew that it was only a matter of time before someone would knock down their door and try to shoot them.

“I know you’re nervous. And you have plently of reasons to be.” Steve always knew when Bucky was being dishonest. “But you’re lying.”

“I wasn’t in Vienna. I don’t do that anymore.”

A male voice sounded from Steve’s radio, warning them that only seconds separated them from being attacked. Steve ignored his friend, eyes focused solely on Bucky.

“I can see that,” he told him, looking around him, acknowledging the little love nest Y/N and Bucky had built for themselves. Steve’s eyes briefly wandered to the photograph of Y/N perched on the wall, recognising her as the girl who helped take down S.H.I.E.L.D. two years earlier. Steve knew what she did for Fury, but he also knew that she was Pierce's daughter and that she was involved with Hydra for years. He didn't like the idea of this girl snatching Bucky away from him, no matter what she had done to help Fury.

Steve diverted his attention back to Bucky, deciding now was not the time to lecture him on his choice of friends. He'd do that later.

The brunette had moved towards the door, listening to the noise of footsteps approaching the apartment.

"This doesn't have to end in a fight, Buck."

"It always ends in a fight," he responded, sounding rueful. He could already feel the happiness being drained out of him. He knew that there was no going back and there wasn't a chance of Y/N coming home that afternoon and cuddling up next to him on the couch. Never again would they lay in bed together in this lovely little apartment they shared and talk about nonsense like why giraffes had long necks or why there was no gravity on the moon.

Bucky knew that escaping from this world of violence and brutality was too good to be true.

"You pulled me from the river. Why?" Steve's voice got louder with the increasing volume of the German special forces standing outside the door. They could hear their talking, getting ready to knock down the door.

"I don't know."

"Yes, you do."

And then it began; a tear gas canister was thrown in through the window and the front door was knocked down all in the space of a second. Bucky succumbed to his instincts, not thinking much as he fought his way through the special forces, attempting to escape the building with Steve trying his best to keep up with him.

What he didn't know was that it was all pointless.

•••

Y/N's grin remained as she entered the apartment building, her earphones in her ears, an upbeat tune adding a swagger to her step. She walked up the steps to their floor, noticing the unusual mess on the staircase. She brushed it off, assuming that one of their neighbours was renovating their apartment and proceeded upstairs.

When she got to her destination, Y/N’s heart began to hammer in her chest at the sight of the broken down door, realising that the mess on the staircase originated from inside her and Bucky’s apartment.

She pulled her earphones out, not bothering to turn off the music, too distracted with the sight in front of her.

Y/N cautiously stepped over the rubble on the floor and quietly entered the apartment. She was paying attention to being exceptionally quiet. At first she assumed that someone might have broken in, but no burglar would make a mess of these proportions. She feared the absolute worst.

But before Y/N could even get a good glimpse at the living room, she was already being pinned down to the floor, her hands being pulled behind her and cuffed.

The young girl struggled beneath the weight of what she soon learned were German special forces, catching a glimpse of the letters on the back of their jackets.

“Ms Pierce?” One of the agents asked, and Y/N briefly wondered what would happen if she said they had the wrong person. Would he apologise for attacking an innocent civilian who simply walked into the apartment to check what all the commotion was about?

“That would be me,” she responded breathlessly, still situated on her stomach, trying to get a look at the four men surrounding her. They all wore black and had a number of weapons strapped to their uniforms, heavy helmets protecting their heads.

“We’re going to need you to come with us,” the male told her, roughly hoisting her up to stand on her own feet.

•••

The worst thing about the whole ordeal was that as Y/N was being forced into the grey bulletproof van which waited outside her apartment building she still had no idea what was going on. Of course, she figured it had something to do with Bucky and she was already freaking out internally but she refused to let it show. After all, these guys could easily use it against her and she had no intention of finding out how they would do that.

”Hey, no need to be so rough with me,” she told the agent as he pushed her inside the van, having already uncuffed her. Y/N rubbed her sore wrists as the door was slid shut, a frown visible across her face. She almost didn’t notice the guy sitting next to her, or the other two in front of her, one of which she soon realised was Steve Rogers.

”Who the hell are you?” The question tumbled past her lips before she realised and an expectant frown was present across her face as she turned to the guy on her left. His eyebrow was cocked.

“Hey Steve, I didn’t realise we were picking anyone up. I thought the boys left to get food.” His sense of humour was surprising, considering the circumstances. He turned to Y/N and flashed a smile. “I’m Sam, Captain America’s best buddy and also a fucking idiot for following him like a stray dog.”

Steve released a tired breath, shaking his head without turning to look at Sam. The guy sitting next to him remained silent.

“And who are you, may I ask?” Sam questioned, trying to seem polite.

The van began to move and Y/N thanked the heavens she had been uncuffed. She slowly put on her seatbelt and was just about to respond to Sam’s question before she was interrupted by Steve.

“Alexander Pierce’s daughter. One of the most important and skilled people at Hydra. Responsible for ninety percent of the crap we’ve had to deal with.”

The young girl narrowed her eyes, glaring at the back of Steve’s head. It was as if he felt her eyes on him and turned slowly, looking at her over his shoulder with a bitter smile.

“Did you have a good time hiding Bucky from me? What kind of lies did you feed him, huh?”

Y/N pressed her lips into a thin line, trying her best not to explode. She was already fuming and they had only been in the van for less than five minutes. She had yet to find out where they were taking her and her anger only grew with each passing minute.

“For your information I was the one who helped Bucky escape. I don’t know what Fury told you, or rather what he hasn’t told you, but I was working for him for months, trying to take down Hydra. So you can shut your mouth before I make you.”

A moment of silence followed, and even the guy sitting next to Steve raised his eyebrows in astonishment.

“Feisty,” Sam muttered under his breath, and nothing else was said until almost an hour later. By then, Y/N found out they were being transported to Berlin, thanks to the agents talking in the front seat, and realised she was in deep, deep trouble.

The guy sitting next to Steve turned out to be the new king of Wakanda, also the country’s protector known as the Black Panther. He seemed a little condescending to Y/N and she didn’t like the way he spoke of Bucky, so when Sam asked him if he liked cats, mocking his vibranium suit, she had to cover up her laughter with a forced cough.

Sam, in turn, sent her a cheeky grin and Steve told them to be quiet.

By the time they arrived at the facility in Berlin after what had to be the longest and most tedious car ride of Y/N’s life, Sam had explained the entire situation to her. He kept his voice low, not wanting the agents in the front seat to hear everything, and Y/N was thankful to have somebody tell her what was going on.

She wondered what Bucky was feeling. Was he scared? Did he know she had been captured, too? Hundreds of questions rushed through Y/N’s mind at a thousand miles per second and not a single one of them could be answered.

However, upon being permitted to leave the van once they arrived - and feeling an awful cramp in her legs after sitting down for so many hours - Y/N finally caught a glimpse of Bucky.

He was situated in a giant glass cube, strapped down to his seat by metal cuffs. He was frowning, seemingly deep in thought, but when his eyes met Y/N’s from across the building his expression softened. He went from frustrated to shocked to confused to scared in the space of a second and Y/N gave him a sad smile before she was led away to be psychologically evaluated along with the other three guys she shared the ride with.

Lucky for her, by the time they got to the floor on which they’d be kept, Y/N had been separated from the rest of the group and placed in a room by herself.

The place surprised her; she was expecting a cell but instead she was led to a small office with television screens, a conference table and a sofa by the wall. She wasn’t in there five whole minutes before the glass door was pushed open and an individual with a familiar face stepped in.

“Nice to see you again,” Y/N told Natasha, sending her a small smile as she situated herself on the sofa. She crossed her legs over each other, waiting for the red head to say something.

“You would’ve seen me sooner if you hadn’t vanished into thin air two years ago,” she joked, then her expression turned more serious. “Fury had me look for you for months. I’ve never seen anyone just disappear like that. Well done.”

Y/N chuckled at the compliment, running her fingers through her hair. “What’s gonna happen to Bucky?”

Natasha cleared her throat, avoiding Y/N’s gaze. She hesitated before replying.

“Psychological evaluation and extradition. Who knows what the US or the Wakandan government will decide to do to him after that.”

A moment of absolute silence passed. Natasha felt awkward being the person to tell Y/N about this. The younger girl, on the other hand, was too busy worrying about Bucky to realise.

“And what could that involve?”

Natasha’s lip quirked up into a tiny grin. “Stop worrying about Barnes. He’s safe downstairs. You have other things to worry about.”

Y/N cocked an eyebrow expectantly.

“They want to charge you for helping a criminal escape from the country and for what they believe is betraying S.H.I.E.L.D. and the US government. They think that you and Barnes have been working for Hydra all this time you were missing.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in disbelief. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Tell me about it,” Natasha scoffed.

Both of their heads turned towards the door when Tony Stark stepped into the room. He looked focused, a little distraught, maybe. Y/N had heard a lot about him from Fury but never actually got the chance to meet him. It was weird to finally get the opportunity to introduce herself in these terrible circumstances.

“Take a seat, Nat. I’m gonna need you to back me up here.” Tony motioned towards one of the chairs at the conference table and Natasha smiled softly before sitting down.

Tony shut the door, silently circling the table until he was standing in front of Y/N. He casually leaned against the glass surface, giving her a small smile.

“I’m Tony. I can’t say I’ve heard a lot about you from Fury, but I know a substantial amount.” He held his hand out and Y/N shook it, reciprocating his smile.

“Now, I have some good news and some bad news. The bad news is I was talking to the guys downstairs and they’ve decided that they’re not going to question you about anything until you arrive in the States. They don’t want the German government getting theirs hands on any information the US is not willing to share. And despite it sounding like a good thing, believe me, it’s not.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes, waiting for Tony to elaborate. She could feel herself becoming more and more nervous with each moment that passed and she yearned to return home to Bucharest and forget this whole thing ever happened.

Tony smiled sadly again. “They’re convinced you’ve been working for Hydra over the past two years but Natasha here,” he nodded towards the red head, “knows that you’ve actually been recruited by Fury. Unfortunately Fury had gone into hiding a few weeks after what happened in Washington so he can’t confirm anything. To make matters worse, no files with your name exist since Fury didn’t want your father knowing you were working undercover. They think you’re more dangerous than Rogers.”

“What’s the good news, then?”

Tony chuckled quietly at how impatient she was being.

“The bombing in Vienna took place during the signing of the Sokovia Accords. I’ve spoken to a few important people, pulled a few strings and they have agreed to forget the whole thing if you stand on our side. If you also agree to the terms of the Accords.”

Y/N was utterly confused. “What has any of this to do with me?”

Tony looked to Natasha who then continued, “The guys downstairs figured that you and Barnes are together. The Secretary of State thinks that if you sign the Accords, Barnes will follow your steps and surrender unconditionally. They’re hoping that if Barnes is on our side, Rogers will sign the Accords, too. A chain reaction.”

“Basically they want to use you to get Cap to sign.”

Y/N still didn’t know what to feel about this whole thing. She knew that Bucky didn’t mean to do any harm, so he’d probably have nothing against ending this whole thing in peace. However, the smile on Tony’s face made her feel as if he was hiding something from her, trying to trick her into something she’d later regret.

“Sorry, Mr Stark, but I’m not going to sign anything or take sides until I know what’s really going on here. Something doesn’t feel right and honestly, right now, I have better things to be doing than being used by the government.”

Tony’s grin seemed to disappear but he kept his cool, nodding his head curtly and silently walking out of the room with Natasha following.

•••

Y/N remained in her comfortable prison for a little bit longer. She was brought food by a young girl who only spoke German and she spent the majority of her time there pacing the room, trying to understand what on earth she was supposed to do.

It wasn’t like she could just push the door open and leave. Or could she?

She got the opportunity to find out when the lights in the room switched off and an alarm began to blare so loudly she feared it would burst her ear drums. The door to Y/N’s room opened on its own and red emergency lights flashed imminently on the ceiling.

She slowly stepped towards the door and peaked her head out, noticing that the corridor outside was absolutely deserted. She took a deep breath before exiting the cell, cautiously making her way down the corridor. She tried to be as quiet as possible, looking over her shoulder every couple of seconds to make sure she wasn’t being followed. She decided to descend the stairs and see what all the commotion was about. After all, her door wouldn’t have opened without a reason.

She wandered through corridors, climbed and descended several sets of stairs but she couldn’t seem to figure out where the hell she was going. A voice coming from an intercom located somewhere in the hall told everyone to evacuate themselves from the building immediately but there seemed to be nobody where Y/N had been locked up.

She continued trying to find her way to an exit for what had to be at least ten minutes. The building was giant, consisting of a maze of long windowless corridors and the lack of lighting wasn’t exactly helpful. Y/N was sure she had been walking around in circles until she caught a glimpse of red in the corner of her eye.

She turned quickly and released a breath when she realised it was Bucky. But her relief was short lived. Bucky was trudging towards her, his hair having fallen in front of his eyes and he looked angry yet focused.

“Buck?” She asked softly, and it was only when he didn’t reply that she realised she wasn’t talking to her soft, loving Bucky who liked to paint and knit her scarves.

The Winter Soldier gripped her wrist, remaining completely silent as he pulled her towards another staircase and forced her to climb up, throwing her over his shoulder when he realised she couldn’t keep up with him.

“Bucky, what are you doing? What happened?” Y/N asked, trying to get through to him. Warm wind whipped through her hair before she heard a door closing and it was then she realised they were on the roof of the building.

Bucky didn’t say anything as he carried her. The Winter Soldier walked over to the helicopter located on the centre of the roof and yanked the door open, throwing Y/N inside without much care.

The younger girl rubbed her elbow as he circled the machine, getting in on the pilot’s side and preparing to take off. Y/N’s heart was beating like crazy; for one, she had no idea how they managed to activate the Winter Soldier. Bucky had told her about his trigger words but he assured her that nobody outside of Hydra knew them. Besides, why was the Winter Soldier escaping with her?

What Y/N didn’t know was that two years back, when her father first assigned her to work with the Winter Soldier, they had reprogrammed him so that he wouldn’t hurt her. He had been programmed to protect her at all costs and always put her safety first.

Having been activated by Zemo, the first thing the soldier thought of was bringing Y/N to safety.

The helicopter had just lifted off the ground when Y/N noticed the door through which Bucky had carried her opening, and Steve exiting in a hurry. He ran towards the helicopter and Y/N assumed he must’ve grabbed onto the skids because suddenly they stopped lifting up.

Y/N noticed that Bucky was looking in the other direction; too focused on getting Steve to let go. She looked out the window, noticing that the helicopter was only about two metres off the ground. She glanced at Bucky again but he wasn’t looking at her.

Y/N took a deep breath before hurriedly opening the door and doing what had to be the most stupid and dangerous thing in the whole world, and jumped out of the helicopter.

She landed gracefully on her feet and didn’t look back as she ran in the opposite direction. She passed Steve, who didn’t even notice her and made sure she wasn’t anywhere near the helicopter as the blonde super soldier continued to pull it down.

Y/N was breathing heavily, wishing she could help but the only thing she could do was watch. She was surprised by Steve’s strength when he succeeded in stopping the helicopter from taking off, but her surprise turned to fear when the helicopter, Bucky and Steve all fell into river beneath the pad.

She ran towards them but by the time she got to her destination they had already fallen, and she stared at the water below, praying to God that they would be alright.

She stayed there for a moment, her eyes wide open with fear as she watched the helicopter sink to the bottom. Moments passed and nothing happened, until she finally saw a head of blonde and a head of brown appear above the surface.

She released a breath of utmost relief, closing her eyes for a brief moment before opening them again. She pursed her lips, breathing in heavily. She had to get down there, and fast.

•••

Bucky regained consciousness two hours later.

By that time, Steve had moved him to what looked like an abandoned metalwork factory, and situated him on the concrete ground with his vibranium arm held in place by a hydraulic press.

Sam had joined them, as had Y/N. She sat with Wilson in the corner while Steve kept a watchful eye on what was going on outside. No one seemed to have figured out where they had gone to.

“I mean, I’m not an expert but I don’t think anyone should just jump out of a helicopter,” Sam joked, watching as she smiled ruefully and glanced towards Bucky. He was still unconscious and Y/N was growing worried.

“She has done a lot of stupid things, Sam. This isn’t the first,” Steve stated from across the room, turning back to the group. Y/N glared at him again.

“Oh, yeah? Like what for instance? Make myself a target for a terrorist organisation to save your best friend? Participate in the killing of my own father to save your ass while you were on that damn Helicarrier? Please, enlighten me, because I would really like to know why you hate me so damn much.”

“If it wasn’t for you, Bucky could be living happily in Brooklyn with me right now. None of this shit would be happening if you could just follow Fury’s orders and hand him over once you escaped from Hydra,” he told her, his voice gruff, laced with sheer anger.

She wasn’t sure when, but next thing she knew, Y/N was standing up and her fingers were balled into fists. About ten feet separated her from an angry Steve and honestly, she was just itching to punch him.

“Please, are you actually stupid enough to believe that the government would just let him out into the streets and permit him to have a normal life? They’d put him in a high security prison and you wouldn’t have seen him ever again.”

Sam decided to butt in, his voice calm. “She does have a point, Cap.”

“You’re a selfish, crappy agent who couldn’t even do her job right. All of this is your God damn fault... What happened in Washington is your fault because you couldn’t stop your daddy in time. And why? Because you’re just like him.” Steve pointed a long accusing finger at Y/N and she scoffed at his stupidity.

“You watched Bucky suffer for years. You watched him be Hydra’s puppet and you did nothing to stop them.”

Y/N was fuming.

“The second I saw a chance to help him, I took it, Rogers. Not all of us have super soldier serum running in our veins.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “You have to accept-”

“Shhh,” Sam suddenly interrupted, raising his index finger. The two looked towards him and then diverted their attention to Bucky when Sam nodded in his direction.

He was waking up, his eyes fluttering open and Y/N could feel relief flooding her senses. He groaned quietly, quickly realising that his arm was immobilised and that he wasn’t the only person in the room.

“Y/N? Steve?” He whimpered out, forcing himself into a sitting position. He looked around the room, disoriented.

Y/N’s heart clenched in her chest and she smiled softly before deciding to make her way over to him. Before she could even take a step forward, Steve had grabbed her bicep, preventing her from moving towards him.

He turned his head to the brunette. “Which Bucky am I talking to?”

Y/N yanked her arm out of his grip. “That’s enough,” she told him angrily.

Steve looked at her again, almost seething with rage. “It’s enough when I say it is.”

Y/N glared at him and made her way over to Bucky. He was situated on a stone stool and she smiled lovingly at him as she kneeled between his parted legs. She cupped his face gently, looking into his eyes.

“How are you feeling, Buck?” She asked softly and he smiled back at her, allowing his free hand to tuck a strand of her hair behind his ear.

“I’ve been better,” he told her and chuckled lightly before adding, “I didn’t get to finish that grocery shopping.”

Y/N laughed, too. “And I forgot to do the laundry last week. We’re even.”

Steve coughed behind her, snapping them out of their little moment. Bucky looked towards him, feeling calm as Y/N gently stroked his face and watched him carefully, making sure he wasn’t injured.

“What did I do?” Bucky asked, sounding apologetic and regretful. Y/N wanted to tell him that none of what happened was his fault but Steve interrupted her before she could.

“Enough.”

Y/N looked at Steve over her shoulder, sending him a warning look. “Could you be useful and get him out of this contraption?” She motioned to the hydraulic press with her head. Her voice was laced with bitterness and even she was surprised by how angry the blonde made her.

Steve rolled his eyes but complied without a word, returning to his initial spot when Bucky’s arm was freed. Y/N laced her fingers with his own, kissing his knuckles one by one, just like that day two years back when he showed up at her kitchen.

He inhaled sharply, looking at Y/N as he spoke. “Everything Hydra put inside me is still there. All he had to do was say the god damn words,” Bucky explained ruefully.

“Who was he, Bucky?” Y/N asked softly, wanting nothing more than to kill the guy herself. The brunette glanced at Steve, then looked down at her and smiled apologetically.

“I don’t know.” He narrowed his eyes, thinking for a moment. His forehead creased and his eyes narrowed. Y/N associated this expression of concentration with lazy afternoons, those silly knitting needles in his hands. “He wanted to know about Siberia. The place where I was kept. He wanted to know exactly where.”

Steve looked concerned. “Why would he want to know that?”

A moment of silence lingered and even Sam looked eager to find out why. Bucky’s eyes remained on his girlfriend, knowing exactly what she was thinking and feeling so guilty for being a part of everything that had happened. Neither one of them was guilty for what had yet to be explained, yet both felt liable.

Y/N pushed herself up from the ground, brushing the dust off her jeans. She turned to Steve.

“Because Bucky’s not the only Winter Soldier,” she told him quietly, glancing at his face briefly. She diverted her attention back to Bucky, knowing that he hated talking about any of this.

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked to Y/N. She moved to stand behind Bucky, one hand on his shoulder, the other twirling a strand of his hair between her fingers. She was so happy to have him alive and well.

“Who are they?” The blonde questioned.

Y/N sighed. “The most elite death squad. More kills than anyone in Hydra history. And that’s before the serum.”

“How do you know all this?” Wilson questioned, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

Bucky raised his head and looked up at the younger girl, offering her a sad smile.

“I hacked into old Hydra files after we moved to Bucharest. I wanted to find out more about what was happening.”

Sam turned his attention to Bucky. “Did they all turn out like you?”

“Worse,” he answered. “These guys, they speak thirty languages, can hide in plain sight, infiltrate, assassinate, destabilise. They can take a whole country down in one night and you’d never see them coming.”

Y/N watched as Sam approached Steve and they proceeded to talk quietly between themselves for a few moments.

While they busied themselves with discussing the situation Y/N moved to kneel in front of Bucky again and kissed his cheek.

“None of what happened was your fault, okay? Don’t blame yourself for it,” she told him and Bucky smiled, kissing her mouth lightly.

“I’m sorry for all of this. I hate that they arrested you because of me,” he apologised and she shook her head at him.

“It would be twenty times worse if I just returned home from work and you were gone. If I had no idea what happened to you. I wouldn’t stand it.”

She pecked his forehead and stood up, turning to Steve expectantly. He was already looking at her.

“We need a place to spend the night,” he announced, and Y/N’s mouth curled up into a smirk.

“I know the perfect place.”

•••

The “perfect place” turned out to be a house that Pierce had bought years back due to his constant visits to Germany. It was there he stayed the weekend a sixteen year old Y/N found out he was responsible for the death of her mother. Y/N knew the police wouldn’t check the house. After all, there was no record of her existence in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s old files and nobody apart from Nick Fury and Maria Hill knew where she lived prior to leaving the US. There was no way they knew about a vacation home Pierce had purchased back in the 90s.

They didn’t leave the factory until after sunset, wanting to lower the chances of being caught. They arrived at the house close to midnight and Y/N smiled when she found a spare set of keys under a flower pot by the gate to the back garden, just where she remembered her father leaving it years earlier.

She entered the house first, switching on the lights and looking around. Bucky was behind her, studying the expression across her face as she drank in the sight of her childhood vacation home. Her parents had brought her to Berlin several times in her younger years and even after her mother was killed, she’d visit the house with her father.

“You alright?” The brunette asked her softly, and Y/N nodded her head, smiling when he took her hand and squeezed it gently.

“There’s enough bedrooms upstairs for everyone to get a good night’s rest. Unfortunately there’s no food so we’ll have to figure something out. I can always head out and buy something or we can just order food. I doubt the pizza guy works for the government,” she told them.

Steve and Sam headed upstairs in search of the bedrooms while Y/N moved to the living room. The whole place was perfectly clean, just the way she had last seen it and Y/N gulped at the sight of pictures of herself, her father and her mother perched on the wall.

“Hey, don’t pay attention to any of this,” Bucky told her softly, standing in front of the photograph of her father so she couldn’t see it. He stepped closer to her and embraced her in a hug, holding her tightly when she buried her face in his chest.

“It’s been such a long day,” she muttered, tightening her grip on him, wanting nothing more than to get into bed with him and sleep for a few hours. She wanted to be held by him and she wanted to kiss his shoulder and cuddle him forever.

“Go take a nice long shower. I’ll order some food,” he assured her and kissed her forehead before retreating.

“There’s a stack of food delivery brochures in the cabinet next to the fridge. Order a lot. I’m starved.”

Bucky smiled again as she headed up the stairs and to her old vacation room. She passed one of the guest rooms on her way; the door was open and Steve and Sam seemed to be in a deep conversation inside.

She decided not to interrupt and as told, took a long shower, changed into an old pair of pyjamas and collapsed on the bed. The food arrived almost forty minutes later and she had to drag herself downstairs, grabbing a wad of cash from another one of Pierce’s hiding spots and paying for the delivery.

The group ate around the kitchen island and when they were finished, everyone headed to bed. Lucky for Y/N, Bucky was just as eager to sleep with her head on his chest and not even a minute passed after they climbed into bed that both of them were fast asleep.

•••

The next morning consisted of getting into a “borrowed” VW Bug and meeting Steve’s friend, Sharon, to pick up their weapons and suits. When that was out of the way the group drove to the airport and discussed what they were going to do on the way.

Despite not being a super soldier, or a trained assassin, or having a wicked set of falcon wings, Y/N had a job of her own and she was happy to help.

Her mission consisted of staying by Sam’s side while he located the Quinjet the opposing team had arrived in, sneak on board, do some hacking and wait for the rest of the group to join her so they could fly to Siberia.

Y/N watched from a well hidden spot as Steve went outside and talked to Tony. His goal was to distract him for a few moments, giving Falcon an opportunity to find out where the Quinjet was before the inevitable fight would begin.

Y/N had to admit, she was nervous. Sharon had equipped her with tight fitting fighting gear and weapons which she was more than acquainted with using; she had guns, knives, high tech explosives and even a taser strapped to her clothes but none of these things was of any help in calming her nerves.

She wasn’t even that anxious for herself; she was more afraid of what would happen to Bucky. This entire ordeal was caused by the stupid fake psychiatrist who just couldn’t seem let go of the past and Y/N wished she could use the weapons she had on no other person but himself.

Y/N made sure not to be seen as she headed in the direction Sam had told her to go and kept a secure hold on her gun while she ran. The fight was only beginning, and Y/N tried not to pay attention to any of the punches thrown and just focus on her own mission. Lucky for her, Bucky wasn’t anywhere in sight and she could easily proceed towards the hangar, going unnoticed by the distracted team.

It was only when Y/N got inside and climbed on board that she released a sigh of relief.

The inside of the Quinjet was sleek and modern, nothing out of the ordinary for Tony Stark and his need for everything expensive and extravagant. Not that she was complaining; because of the fact the Quinjet had been programmed similarly to his Iron Man suit, Y/N’s job of hacking the system and sabotaging his work was made easier.

She was a bit out of breath from the running she had to do in order to get to her destination but she got an opportunity to rest when she took a seat at the console and got to work. Pulling out her USB flash drive, Y/N’s smile widened as she got to work. She hadn’t had an opportunity to have a little fun with computers in a while.

Her focus remained as she began messing with Tony’s suit, beginning with minor faults like not being able to locate targets and then slowly making him lose the ability to shoot or fly too fast.

“Can’t believe I’m saying this but well done. Keep up the good work, Y/N,” Steve said through her earpiece and she was just about to respond when a hand on her shoulder stopped her.

She jumped slightly, not expecting anyone to be behind her, and upon turning her chair to face the intruder she almost gulped.

Natasha was standing over her and despite the circumstances, she looked amused. Honestly, the red head didn’t expect Barnes to bring his girlfriend to the fight. He thought they had hidden her in some safe house until all of this would be over. It was a big surprise to her when Tony told her someone was messing with his suit and asked her to check who stood behind it.

“Secretary Ross isn’t going to be impressed when he finds out about this,” Natasha stated, her tone confident and warning.

“And who’s going to tell him about it? You?” Y/N cocked an eyebrow, surprised with her own relaxed tone.

Natasha, believing she had the situation under control, took a step back and motioned for Y/N to follow her. She wasn’t expecting a fight; after all, who on earth would want to start a fight with her when they had an opportunity to avoid it?

And because Y/N was smart, she figured getting her hands dirty wasn’t a good idea. At least not for another while.

She released a breath, groaning at being caught and pushed herself up from her seat, following Natasha off the jet. It was only when their feet hit the concrete ground of the hangar that the fight ensued.

Natasha wasn’t expecting it so when Y/N attacked, she was unprepared. The red head was good at defending herself in hand to hand combat and tried to throw a few hard punches but Y/N managed to block them. The younger girl seemed to be able to predict Nat’s every move and after a solid minute of fighting and not being able to take her down, Nat began to grow agitated.

Who on earth could’ve taught her how to fight like this? It surely wasn’t Rumlow.

Y/N inhaled sharply before jumping high into the air, placing one foot on Nat’s hip and throwing her leg over her shoulder. She swiftly moved around her, managing to throw her off balance and cause Nat to fall onto the concrete. In a flash Y/N was straddling her waist, using one of Sharon’s fancy toys to immobilise her.

“Where did you learn to fight? Why are you able to predict my every move?” Nat was breathless but she couldn’t stop the question from tumbling past her lips. Her brows were furrowed and she was beyond confused, shocked at her own failure to predict this would happen. She should’ve guessed, the moment she found out Y/N was at the airport, that Bucky wouldn’t bring her here if she was helpless.

Y/N’s lip quirked up into a smirk and she sent Natasha a small wink. For a moment the red head even thought Y/N might have been trained in the Red Room like she was but she knew that couldn’t have been it. Her father wouldn’t send her off to be trained into a killer by the Soviets.

“We had the same teacher,” Y/N told Nat, pushing herself up and leaving the other girl unable to move on the ground. “He taught me a few things over the last two years.”

She turned her back and rushed back onto the jet, continuing her task from earlier on until finally, she was joined by Bucky and Steve, taking off from the hangar before the door was even properly shut.

•••

The flight was long, but no where near as frustrating as the drive from Bucharest to Berlin. Steve decided to take control of the Quinjet the moment they were out of the opposing team’s reach and Y/N smiled at him gratefully before making her way to the back where Bucky was situated.

“How was the fight?” She asked softly, sitting down next to him. She had pulled one leg underneath her and sat facing Bucky’s side, peering up at his face with a tiny smile. She was happy he didn’t get hurt.

“Same as any other,” he told her. “At least no one got killed.”

She pressed her lips to his clothed shoulder and he reciprocated her smile. Bucky noticed the dark circles under her eyes and felt bad for her. She didn’t have super soldier serum like himself or Steve and the events of the previous two days had taken their toll on her.

Firstly it was the stress, secondly the lack of sleep and lastly the fear for Buck’s well being. He smiled sympathetically and reached out his metal arm, stroking her cheek gently.

“Tired?” He asked, and she nodded lightly, releasing a breath. He patted his lap, sitting back on the bench and inviting her to use his legs as a pillow. She complied without much convincing, closing her eyes and feeling Bucky’s fingers stroking her side, his other hand gently playing with her hair.

“Sleep for a while,” he told her.

Y/N was asleep within moments, loving the feeling of Bucky’s warmth and his hands stroking her flesh ever so delicately. The Quinjet was filled with silence, the occasional sigh or cough being heard until Bucky finally spoke up almost an hour later.

The flight to Siberia gave him a chance to think about everything; their actions and consequences, what would happen when all of this would be over and if he’d get the chance to live normally again.

Truth be told; Bucky hated fighting. He hated having to use violence, he hated guns and he hated the way people treated him because of his past. It seemed that no body understood him - he felt like even Steve wasn’t exactly on the same page as himself - but he was willing to keep going; having Y/N on his side was enough to motivate him to fight for their happiness.

“What’s going to happen to your friends?” Bucky asked suddenly, looking fondly at the sleeping girl situated comfortably with her head on his lap. Her hair was soft between his fingers and he loved the tiny peaceful smile across her face.

Steve didn’t respond immediately, continuing to stare at the vast expanse of clouds ahead. They were nearing their destination; the ground beneath the jet was covered in snow and the screen in front of Steve informed him it was well below zero degrees Celsius.

The blonde sighed. “Whatever it is, I’ll deal with it.”

He thought the response was good enough to satisfy Bucky, especially when he decided to remain silent for a long moment after it. But Buck wasn’t exactly okay with it; his mind was overflowing with thoughts of everything and he felt guilty for not letting the special forces shoot him when they found him in Bucharest.

None of this would’ve happened.

“I don’t know if I’m worth all this, Steve.”

The younger guy’s mind seemed to freeze for a short moment and he almost turned to Bucky with the most confused and frustrated expression but instead, he kept his eyes on the clouds in front of him. He pursed his lips and willed himself not to tell Bucky how stupid he was being. Steve wished they could go back in time to the 40s when, even with the war going on around them, they felt happy and at peace.

“What you did all those years, it wasn’t you. You didn’t have choice.”

“I know.” Bucky bit the inside of his cheek, continuing to play with Y/N’s hair. “But I did it.”

The feeling of her next to him relaxed Bucky and he was so damn thankful to have her with him through all of this. She could’ve easily signed the Accords like Tony asked her, and gone back to a normal life on her own. But there she was, risking her life time after time just to be with Bucky. Even Steve had noticed the sacrifices she’d made over the years and a part of him knew that despite her past, she was good for his best friend.

“Look, you have a girlfriend who’s ready to go to the ends of the earth to be there for you, to protect and to care for you. I know I was unkind to her because of what she did two years back but I can see the way she looks at you. She thinks you’re worth all this, as do I, and I will try my hardest to make you believe that because you deserve to be happy.”

Bucky smiled sadly, and when Steve glanced at him briefly over his shoulder, he realised that Bucky was biting his lip, willing it not to quiver.

The Quinjet didn’t land for another while, and when it did, Bucky gently shook Y/N awake and kissed her cheek.

“It’s time to go,” he told her softly, and she allowed him to pull her up into a standing position, handing her the waist holster she decided to take off earlier on.

They got their weapons ready and Steve stood next to Bucky as they waited for the back door of the jet to open. A cold breeze whipped through Y/N’s hair as she stood behind them, making sure that her gun was loaded.

“You remember that time we had to ride back from Rockaway Beach in the back of that freezer truck?” Steve asked suddenly, and Y/N lifted her head at the question despite it not being directed at her.

Bucky looked at Steve and grinned.

“Was that the time you used our train money to buy hot dogs?”

“You blew three bucks trying to win that stuffed bear for a redhead.“

Y/N involuntarily raised her brow, lips curving up at the edges.

Bucky’s eyes narrowed in thought. “What was her name again?”

“Dolores. You called her Dot.”

Y/N removed the safety from her gun and took a step forward so that she was standing between them. The door was almost open by then.

She looked up at Bucky, sending him a playful smirk.

“Dolores, huh?” She asked, faking jealousy. Steve chuckled when she sent Bucky a wink and proceeded to exit the Quinjet.

“She's gotta be a hundred years old right now...” Bucky trailed off, looking to Steve.

The blonde laughed, patting Buck on the back as they followed Y/N outside.

“So are we, pal.”

It wasn’t long before the group realised the fake psychiatrist from before had arrived at the Siberian base hours before they had. The door to the base had been opened and there were no signs of the guy’s footprints on the snow, having been covered with a brand new layer.

Bucky feared the absolute worst. He knew the guy had enough time to awake the five other Winter Soldiers before they arrived and as they entered the facility, he instinctively moved in front of Y/N, shielding her from any danger which could’ve arisen ahead.

They hustled through the cold air and whizzed sneakily around dark concrete corridors, their weapons ready to be used if needed.

The base was huge, located underground and the trio had to take an old rusty elevator to get to the bottom. It was eerily quiet and the place almost had a sinister quality to it. As they moved, following Bucky to where he knew the soldiers were kept, Y/N wondered how many people were held captive there, how many people were tortured, and brain-washed and how many of them simply weren’t able to survive it all.

They were in the midst of climbing a narrow set of stairs when the noise of a metal door opening made them turn around. Y/N held her gun up, pointing it in the direction of the sound, noticing that Buck was doing the same thing next to her. Steve stood on a lower step, holding his shield tightly.

Y/N’s face contorted in confusion when Tony Stark emerged from behind the door, hidden behind his Iron Man mask, and looking strangely relaxed. The light of the arc reactor in the suit was almost blinding in the dim, windowless corridor. He continued towards them, removing his helmet.

“You seem a little defensive,” he stated casually, and Steve began to descend the short set of stairs to get closer. He was still holding his shield up, unsure about what was going on.

“It’s been a long day,” he responded cautiously.

Tony’s eyes quickly moved to where Bucky and Y/N remained.

“I’m not currently after you, Barnes,” he stated, then glanced at Y/N. “Thanks for messing with my suit, kid,” he told her, and she rolled her eyes.

“My pleasure,” she responded bitterly.

“Ross has no idea I’m here and I’d like to keep it that way,” Tony continued, moving to lean against the concrete wall. “Otherwise I’d have to arrest myself.”

Both Y/N and Bucky lowered their weapons at the sight of Steve doing the same. Her finger remained on the trigger, however, just in case Tony was trying to be cunning again. Y/N learned the hard way that it was better to be safe than sorry.

“Well, that sounds like a lot of paper work,” Steve chuckled, and Tony smiled. The blonde lowered his shield entirely and gave the other Avenger a small nod. “It’s good to see you, Tony.”

“You too, Cap.”

Unfortunately, the peace between them was short lived. Tony had found out that the Winter Soldier was framed for the Vienna bombing and he wished to forget about it and help them take down the other five super soldier plus the vengeful Zemo.

But things never went as planned for Tony and upon being exposed to the horrifying truth that on December 16th, 1991, Bucky had murdered both of his parents, Tony simply lost it.

Y/N’s heart ached as she watched Tony’s eyes fill up with unreadable emotions, watching the video of his parents being murdered. The sound of his mother crying out for Howard bounced off the concrete walls and Y/N could feel Bucky stiffening next to her.

She looked up at him, and saw the utmost guilt in his expression. His eyes were welling up and Y/N wanted to wrap him up and tell him that it wasn’t his fault, that it wasn’t him who did all of this. Unfortunately, when Tony turned to her boyfriend and looked at him with rage, Y/N realised that now wasn’t the time to do that.

She instinctively stepped in front of Buck, holding her gun tight when Tony attempted to charge towards the brunette. Lucky for her and Bucky, Steve pulled him back.

Tony stared at Steve expectantly. “Did you know?”

A moment of silence followed.

“I didn’t know it was him.”

Tony was losing his patience and despite not liking the guy too much, Y/N felt bad for him. “Don’t bullshit me, Rogers. Did you know?” He demanded through gritted teeth.

Steve hesitated and nodded his head ruefully. “Yes.”

Tony took a step back and glanced at the screen again. Y/N held her breath as she watched him weighing his options and for a moment she even believed he was going to let this whole thing go. Maybe he understood that Bucky wasn’t in control of the things he did in the past; that none of this was his fault.

But this was Tony Stark; the guy basically ran on vengeance and there was no way he’d let Bucky just forget about it.  

Another fight ensued and while Bucky, Steve and Tony threw punches, kicked and shot at each other, Y/N decided to do the smart thing and follow Zemo outside.

She knew Bucky would be fine. He had to be. Besides, Cap was there to protect him, and someone had to find the idiot who stood behind all this. Y/N noticed Zemo trying to sneak off when he thought no one was watching but he ought to have known better than that.

The snow crunched under Y/N’s feet as she made her way outside. Her heart was beating rapidly with the effect of adrenaline and she tried to distract herself from thoughts of Bucky by circling the base in an attempt to find Zemo.

When she found him, he was sitting on a rock with his back facing the building, overlooking the vast expanse of snow ahead. Y/N stayed hidden behind a wall, noticing that he wasn’t alone. Next to Zemo stood T’Challa, the infamous protector of Wakanda who wanted her boyfriend dead.

For a moment Y/N even considered shooting him from her current spot but she figured she shouldn’t let her anger towards him get the better of her. Besides, she doubted any bullet could penetrate his vibranium suit.

“Vengeance has consumed you. It’s consuming them,” he stated and paused for a moment. Y/N wondered why but she couldn’t see his face from where she was standing.

“I’m done letting it consume me,” he added, surprising the girl hiding behind the wall. “Justice will come soon enough.”

“Tell that to the dead,” Zemo responded, and before Y/N could react he was pressing a gun to the underside of his chin and T’Challa was catching the bullet in the palm of his hand, saving Zemo.

She came out of hiding when T’Challa had yanked the gun out of Zemo’s hand and threw it onto the snow behind him.

“The living are not done with you yet,” the Wakandan king reminded him, and turned his head upon hearing Y/N’s footsteps. She kicked the gun farther away, coming to a halt about three feet away from where the two were situated, T’Challa’s arm pressing down firmly on Zemo’s throat.

“And neither am I,” she added, tossing a pair of iron cuffs in T’Challa’s direction. He caught them with one hand and gave the younger girl a small nod before forcing Zemo to lay down on his front, pulling his hands behind his back, and putting the metal bracelets on his wrists.

“I know Barnes is innocent,” T’Challa told her, and she gave him a grateful smile. She watched as T’Challa hoisted Zemo up to stand on his own feet and then began tugging him in the direction of his jet.

“What are you going to do with him?” Y/N questioned, expecting to hear something about a Wakandan prison; the place he wanted Bucky to be transported to when he was being questioned in Berlin.

“Hand him over to Ross,” he answered, then looked towards the entrance of the base. “Don’t worry. I have him. You should probably return to your friends. I’ll stay here and make sure he doesn’t try to escape. I’ll be waiting for the others to come out so I can personally apologise to Barnes.”

Y/N nodded and spun on her heel, hurrying back inside the base. Her speed increased as she ran through the building, tapping her foot impatiently as the elevator carried her to the bottom.

She was out of breath by the time she got to the area where the now dead soldiers were kept. Only a mess remained on the ground, all caused by the fight between the three men. Y/N’s brows furrowed as she followed the rubble on the floor, soon catching a glimpse of Steve who was helping Bucky walk, holding his weight and stopping him from falling.

Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat as she ran over. It was only then that she saw the damage done to her boyfriend’s prosthetic; most of it was gone, only a fraction of his bicep left. Loose wires and sharp fragments of soot covered vibranium remained. Bucky’s face was bloody and he was weak on his two feet.

When Steve noticed her, he whispered something to Bucky and then the latter looked up.

“My God, what happened?” Y/N demanded, grabbing a hold of Bucky’s face and pushing his hair out of his eyes. Steve was still holding him, allowing Y/N to take in the sight of her boyfriend and do what she had to.

Bucky’s lips curved up into a tiny smile at the sight of Y/N and she stroked his face, looking for other injuries she mightn’t have noticed yet.

“I’m okay,” he reassured her, but even Steve knew she wasn’t buying any of his crap.

“I’m not letting you out of my sight ever again. Do you hear me, Buck?” She told him, and Steve chuckled at her threat, knowing it to be true.

“Come on, let’s get him onto the Quinjet,” Steve motioned for Y/N to help him with Bucky’s weight and she didn’t have to be told twice before wrapping an arm around the brunette’s middle.

“There’s someone outside who wants to speak to you,” she said quietly, and Steve sent her a questioning look but she didn’t elaborate.

•••

The sound of Y/N’s high heeled shoes echoed off the walls of the Wakandan facility as she followed Ayo, T’Challa’s head of security down the lengthy corridor.

“Thank you for everything,” Y/N told the other woman when she stopped in front of a tall white door and motioned for Y/N to go inside.

“My pleasure,” Ayo smiled, flashing a set of pearly white teeth and walking away.

Upon landing in Wakanda with Steve, Bucky and T’Challa, the new king assigned Ayo to make sure nobody in the States would find out where they were and find them a place to spend the night in the facility. She was a kind woman with a short temper and T’Challa was surprised with her niceness towards Y/N.

Y/N pushed open the door and peaked her head out from behind it before finally entering.

It was a brightly lit, modern room with all sorts of technologically advanced equipment. A pretty Wakandan nurse sat behind a computer in the corner and she smiled at Y/N when she entered. She was surprised with everyone’s kindness towards her after everything that had happened.

Y/N’s eyes darted across the room to where Bucky was situated on a comfortable examination table, his feet dangling above the floor. He was wearing white, the remaining part of his bionic arm covered by a black fabric of sorts, preventing the loose metal from scratching his ribs.

He smiled when she approached him and she reciprocated the gesture as she moved to stand between his parted thighs and placed her hands of his shoulders.

“How are you feeling?” She asked him softly and Bucky reached out to wrap his arm around her lower back, pulling her closer to him.

“Better than yesterday,” he chuckled lightly and she leaned over to kiss his forehead, her hand stroking his face lightly.

“I love you, you know?” She asked, and her boyfriend’s smile widened.

“I know,” he answered quietly, craning his neck and silently asking for another kiss on his lips. She pressed her mouth to his, kissing him gently and loving the little grin on his face when she withdrew.

“Are you sure about this?” She questioned after a moment, her smile faltering a bit. Bucky’s decision to go back into cryo surprised her and she wanted him to change his mind but refused to stand in his way if this is what he really wanted.

He remained silent for a moment and she tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear, kissing his mouth again.

“I can’t trust my own mind. So until they figure out how to get this stuff out of my head, I think that going back under is the best thing for everybody,” he told her quietly, sending her a sad smile when he was finished.

“Not for me,” she replied, her tone laced with disappointment. Bucky kept his eyes on her, noticing that she was trying to stay strong in this entire situation but that her facade was crumbling. He tightened his grip on her and she buried her face in his neck, feeling his warmth and savouring every second of it. 

“Am I interrupting something?” She heard a voice behind her, and turned around to see Steve standing by the door with his hands in his pockets.

She shook her head at Steve and pressed a long kiss to Bucky’s forehead before retreating, allowing Steve to say goodbye to him before the doctors arrived.

“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back,” Bucky whispered to her as she was turning to walk away and she sent him a weak smile. 

Y/N and Steve stood by a wall as the proceedings began and she had to bite back a sob when the glass capsule closed and a white cold fog began to fill the space within it.

“Why didn’t you stop him?” Steve asked softly, eyes still focused on Bucky’s sleeping form inside the capsule. It was a peaceful yet horrifying sight.

“I wanted to, but after decades of not being able to decide his own fate, I thought I’d let him choose what he wanted to do without interfering,” she answered equally softly.

Y/N took in a sharp breath before spinning on her heel but before she could exit the room, Steve had placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Are you okay?” He asked, genuinely concerned. Despite their rough start Steve had actually grown to respect Y/N. She helped Bucky, she loved Bucky and Bucky loved her. What kind of a friend would he be if he came between that?

“No, but I will be,” she answered with a weak smile and continued out the door, letting it swing closed behind her.

T’Challa was standing alone in the corridor outside, looking at the vast expanse of trees on the other side of the window. It was raining, and Y/N almost scoffed at the fact the weather matched her gloomy mood.

She slowly made her way towards him and came to a stop when she was standing on his left.

“Did everything go as planned?” He questioned, and Y/N nodded.

“He went ahead with it,” she answered, biting her bottom lip.

“And what about you?” He turned his head towards her and studied her expression. He knew the feeling of losing someone most cherished by you; he understood the emptiness in her chest and the indescribable tightness of her throat.

“You know he’d hate for you to do this,” T’Challa noted, and she expelled a heavy breath, looking up at him from between her damp eyelashes.

“Good thing he doesn’t get to decide what I do,” she replied, then pursed her lips. “So where is this other cryo room you told me about?”

The taller guy smiled at her sorrowfully.

“Your bravery amazes me,” he declared, and Y/N chuckled sadly, glancing out the window, knowing it would be a long time before she saw the outside world again.

T’Challa motioned for her to follow him. “Right this way.”

tags: @stxnninq @spn-worm @becksly9 @melissalovesmusicyay @asirenscalling @green-spotlight @crownofmanga @mauve022 @bddybrnes @zoebet