#ceiling paint color combinations

[hometoursandotherstuff]

I have never seen anything like this remodeled 1930 home in Rochester, MN. It has 3bds, 3ba, and is completely tiled inside and out. The exterior is basically bathroom tile. Asking $849K. Well, at least you don't have to ever paint, just spray it down with shower cleaner.

You'd think that it would at least be something other than the usual white, gray, and black. And, you don't even have the option of painting. Ever.

Tile stairs go up into the living room.

I don't really like the small subway-type tiles on the walls in here. Even the fireplace is tile. The bookshelves & ceilings, however, are wood.

I've never seen a combination fireplace/kitchen counter.

The lower cabinets are nice.

The backsplash is a herringbone pattern.

The primary bedroom has a fireplace wall. As if it doesn't have enough shine, they had to put mirrored doors on the closets.

The en-suite bath has that nice shower door that looks like paned glass.

What is this nonsense? No tiled walls? This is actually very nice. It can be repainted in a very attractive color scheme.

Bath #2 has large pieces of tile joined by metal strips around the tub, plus a wood-tone ceiling. There are 4 different tiles in here.

Bedroom #3 has the small tiles on the walls.

Well, that's different - twin fireplaces.

The finished basement is set up as someone's bedroom, office, and gym. I like the glass wall partition.

There's also a shower down here.

And, a sauna.

There's an outdoor kitchen with storage.

The kitchen is, of course, tile.

The lot is .25 acre.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/902-14th-Ave-SW-Rochester-MN-55902/91456791_zpid/?

[nina-ya]

Happy Birthday - Law Edition

A/N: this is single-handedly the most self indulgent fic Ive done in a while so uh yeah anyways bye Pairing: Law x Reader CW: None WC: 2k

“Happy Birthday!” 

The joyful shout rang through the room, jolting you awake from your mid-day nap. Your eyes fluttered open to the smiling faces of your crewmates who gathered around your figure with infectious grins. 

You blinked, trying to make sense of the scene before you. Streamers in vibrant shades of various colors draped from the ceiling, balloons bobbed merrily in the corners, and confetti showered down on you, all combining to paint the room in a riot of colors.

“What–?” you began, your voice thick with sleep, but your words were swallowed by the laughter and sound of a party horn. The atmosphere was alive and filled with excitement, the joy emanating a celebration that was crafted only with love and care.

Bepo, with his furry face beaming, bounced on his toes, eyes sparkling as he spoke, “We couldn’t wait for you to wake up on your own,” he said, voice filled with eagerness. “We’ve been planning this for weeks!” 

Ikkaku handed you a steaming cup of coffee as she said, with a grin stretching across her face, “We just wanted to make sure you felt celebrated.”

“And it looks like Law is waiting for you with your first gift,” Shachi said, excitement evident in his tone.

The mention of Law piqued your curiosity, and you quickly set down the mug, eyes darting around the room for him. “Law? Where is he?”

Penguin sat on your bed beside you, nudging your leg playfully. “He’s been waiting for you to get ready. He should be somewhere on the deck.”

Surprised flitted across your face, and you scrambled out of bed, dashing to the small bathroom of the Polar Tang to quickly toss yourself together. A few hurried adjustments later, you made your way to the deck, spotting Law standing near the railing. He turned as you approached, a shadow of a smirk playing on his lips as he watched your excited figure approach.

“Hey,” he greeted, voice as steady as ever. “I wasn’t sure what to get you, so I thought it would be best if you picked something out yourself. How about we spend the day shopping?”

You blinked, momentarily taken aback by the idea, “Really? You didn’t have to do that, but I would love to!”

Law nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. “I figured it would be more enjoyable if you chose something you really like. Plus, I thought it would be nice to spend some time together.”

With a nod, you fell into a step beside him as you left the Polar Tang, and made your way into the inner city of the island. The marketplace of the island was alive, filled with stalls that offered various trinkets and items. You meandered through the endless rows of vendors, each presenting their products with enthusiasm. Street performers drew crowds to their lively performances, the smell of the street food wafted through the air making you salivate with an eagerness to try everything. As you explored, you found yourself drawn to a smaller shop brimming with trinkets and Law watched as you admired all the handcrafted figurines and jewelry. 

The hours passed, the sun already inching across the sky by the time you both made your way back to the Polar Tang. The day had been nothing short but delightful. You carried a small bag filled with a few selected gifts, all paid for by Law, of course. 

You inched closer to the ship and you noticed the crew’s unusually quiet demeanor. You were curious, but brushed it off as nothing more than fatigue from the day’s tasks. Law walked beside you, his expression unreadable, though there was something in his eyes that suggested he knew something more than he was letting on. 

Upon entering the ship, you were greeted by darkness, and as you descended deeper into it, the lights suddenly flickered on, and a chorus of voices erupted in unison yelling, “Surprise!”

The crew transformed the Polar Tang into a vibrant celebration space, adorned with those same streamers and balloons that you had woken up to, along with a large banner stretching across the ceiling, reading “Happy Birthday!” in bold letters. You spotted a table filled with nothing short of a feast, and music began to play as the festive atmosphere was cranked up to a maximum. 

The party got underway and laughter and conversation filled the air. You were swept up in the festivities, moving on from one group to the next. At one point, you found yourself pulled into a less-than-graceful dance with Bepo. The two of you twirled and spun around the submarine, your laughter ringing out over the music as your fellow crewmates clapped along. It was a moment of pure unfiltered joy.

Everywhere you turned, there were reminders of the thoughtfulness that had gone into the celebration. The party soon moved to the deck of the ship, now laughing and enjoying the festivities under the moonlight.

As the night wore on, you felt a gentle tug on your arm. You turned to find Law standing there, his expression softened by your unbridled happiness. ”Mind if I steal you away for a moment?” he asked, voice raised to carry over the lively chatter. 

You nodded, and Law gently tugged you away from the buzz of the birthday festivities, leading you to a quieter and more secluded corner of the ship. The lanterns that hung off the side of the Polar Tang enveloped the two of you in a warm, ambient light as the laughter and chatter of the party grew distant.

You glanced around, every nerve in your body alight with happiness. “This has been the best birthday I’ve ever had, without a doubt,” you began your voice becoming thick with emotion as you spoke. “I’ve never had anything like this before. It feels… It feels like a dream. I never knew how much I needed this, how much I needed all of this.” 

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions as you continued, “It’s overwhelming. I don’t even know how to put it into words. This whole day, everything… It’s been perfect.” Your voice had cracked slightly, and you wiped at the corners of your eyes, trying to keep those tears at bay. “It’s as if I was drowning, and being with everyone, with you, is just like coming up for a breath of fresh air. I-I don’t even need anything more. This has been just a perfect day.”

Law watched you, a soft, almost wistful smile on your lips. The sight of you so vulnerable and so emotional just pulled on his heartstrings. You were absolutely precious to him and he couldn’t help but want to protect this version of you. To keep you this happy forever. “I wanted to give you something,” he said, his voice quieter as he seemed to dive into something more personal.

You looked up at him, curiosity panging at you alongside the rest of the overwhelming mix of emotions that were about to spill over. “Wait, wait, I thought the shopping spree was your gift to me.” 

“Did you really think I wouldn’t get you a proper gift?” he asked, chuckling.

“I- You… you didn’t have to get me anything,” you whispered, your voice breaking. 

Law reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box wrapped in a red wrapping paper with your name inscribed right in the center. As he handed it to you, your fingers brushed slightly against each other, the contact sending goosebumps up your arms. The sight of the gift caused the tears to start falling, the dam of emotions finally bursting. 

“Hey hey,” he said softly, a chuckle escaping his lips as he watched you with mild concern. “You haven’t even seen the gift yet, and you’re already crying. Am I really that bad at this?”

You laughed through your tears, embarrassment evident in your response. “It’s not you. It’s just… everything. It’s too much”

Law’s grin widened, and he shook his head, urging you to unwrap the gift. “Well, I’m glad I could make you cry, I guess. Here-- open it before you become a total mess.”

You looked down at the box and your tear droplets had stained the wrapping paper a deep maroon. Carefully, you began unwrapping the gift at the seams, revealing a small, black box. You opened the box to reveal a bracelet, its delicate silver chain catching the soft light and shimmering against the velvet interior. 

Law took the bracelet from the box with careful fingers, and you extended your wrist towards him. He gently wrapped the bracelet around your wrist, the cool metal contrasting the warmth of his fingers as he fastened the clasp, the charms tinkling softly as they settled into place. “Everyone got to help pick out some charms,” Law said, holding up your wrist and gently rotating it to show off the bracelet. You looked closely and saw the array of charms, each one a gift from your found family. There was a polar bear, a whale, a penguin - each representing some of the members of the crew - and others that you realized reflected your personal interests.

“These I picked myself,” Law continued, pointing to three charms that lay by each other. He grew a bit shy as he started to explain their significance. “The national flower of the island where I first met you,” he said, pointing at a floral charm. “A firework, for the night at that festival where I took you because you begged for days on end,” he added with a small smile, pointing to the second charm. Finally, he gestured to the last one, a tiny depiction of a moon. “The phase of the moon when we first kissed.”

You looked up at him, sniffling as confusion overtook your teary features. “First kiss? What? I’m confused.”

Law glanced up at the sky, prompting you to follow his gaze. There, hanging in the night sky, was the moon in its waxing gibbous phase, mirroring the smaller charm on your bracelet. The pieces started to click in your head as you looked back at him, realization dawning.

He spoke up, his voice soft yet steady. “Tonight. If you’ll let me.”

You blinked, caught between disbelief and the rising emotions that made your heart race in your chest. The realization of what he meant – what he was offering – washed over you and it was as if the universe had aligned for this one moment. 

His eyes met yours and there was a vulnerability present, the unanswered question hanging between the two of you. You found yourself nodding, and without breaking eye contact, Law took a small step closer, the space narrowing until you could feel the heat radiating off his body and the scent of him overcoming your senses. His hand reached up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing lightly against your tear-dampened skin. 

Law leaned in slowly, giving you time to close the gap if you wished, but you eagerly met him halfway, your lips lightly brushing against his in a gentle touch that sent shivers down your spine.

The kiss was soft at first, a hesitant exploration of each other. But, as you leaned into him, your hand having found its way to the nape of his neck to tangle in his hair, it deepened, the initial hesitancy giving way to something more fervent.

The gift box in his hand dropped to the ground with a thud, and he circled his arm around your waist, pulling you close. The world seemed to tilt on its axis, time standing still, as the kiss unfolded. His lips were soft against yours, moving with a gentle insistence that left you breathless and demanding more, the taste of him intoxicating, making your head spin.

When you finally broke apart, the need for air becoming unignorable, you both lingered for a moment, foreheads resting against each other as you caught your breath. The night was alive around you, the sounds of the party fading back into awareness, but for that one moment, there was only you two.

“Happy birthday,” he murmured, a soft smile playing on his lips as he leaned in once again, capturing your lips in another kiss that was more heated than the last. 

This certainly was the best birthday ever. 

[skzdelf]

Hold my hand | Han Jisung

.ᐟPAIRING: Han Jisung x afab!reader

.ᐟSYNOPSIS: On a crisp autumn day, Jisung and you share a visit to a small vinyl shop that sparks unexpected moments of inspiration.

.ᐟCONTENT: friends to lovers; nonidol!han

.ᐟWORDCOUNT: 1,4k (1469)

He knew a lot about music.

In fact, he knew a lot about everything you could imagine.

And you knew everything about him—his favorite color, his favorite band, his favorite author, the chord he played best, and the ones he struggled with a little more.

You knew how many songs he had poured straight from his heart into the notebook you gave him months ago.

You knew he couldn’t see well without his glasses, and you also knew he didn’t like wearing them—except when he was with you

You spent all your time together at his house, mostly studying.

Study sessions at his place always played out the same way. The two of you would sit at his desk, or sometimes on the floor when the notes took up too much space, with music playing in the background from Han’s massive collection of records and vinyls.

After a while, once the calculations were solved and summaries were written, Han would usually stand up and grab his guitar to clear his mind, as if music and his guitar were his safe haven.

He’d start playing familiar melodies or compose something on the spot. He always looked up from his guitar whenever he thought he had stumbled upon something special, searching for your eyes, as if your approval was the confirmation he needed to trust his creation.

In those moments, the world seemed to stop. The music filled the room, and you could feel the weight of his gaze—expectant, eager for a word or gesture from you to reassure him. Sometimes, you’d nod with a small smile; other times, you’d let out a soft “I like it,” or you’d suggest a minor change, sparking an unmistakable glow in him.

With you, he truly felt heard. You paid attention to every little thing he did or said. You didn’t roll your eyes, even if he asked for the seventh time whether you really thought the lyrics to his song were good.

You didn’t lose your patience when, with wide-eyed enthusiasm, he explained the difference between chords.

For you, Han was your refuge, and his was music.

For Han, music and you were his safe place.

So, what could come from a combination of the things he love most in the world?

The cloudy, cool autumn day was perfect for meeting friends at a cozy café or curling up on the couch with your pets. But here you were.

You and Jisung were strolling through the city streets, the brown and reddish leaves painting the gray, gloomy roads with their vibrant colors.

Han had discovered a small, old vinyl shop online and had spent the entire week insisting that he wanted to go with you as soon as exams were over.

When he spotted the shop less than a block away, Han got excited, grabbing your hand in a quick motion and rushing toward the store. Both of your laughs filled the air with an overwhelming sense of joy.

A hand-painted wooden sign, weathered with age, hung above the entrance and read: “Eternal Melodies.”

Crossing through the door, a soft jingling of bells announced your arrival. The interior was warm and welcoming, lit by dim ceiling lamps that cast a golden glow over the shelves. The floor creaked lightly under your feet.

The walls were lined with shelves that stretched to the ceiling, packed with vinyl records organized by genre and artist.

Han immediately started browsing shelf by shelf while you made your way to the section where your favorite artist was. You searched through the records until you found one you didn’t have and decided to take it.

When you turned back toward Han, you saw him holding three records already. Laughing, you pulled out your phone to snap a candid photo of him.

That same day, after leaving the shop, you headed to Han’s home to listen to the new records.

When the second record finished playing, Jisung stood up and grabbed his guitar, apparently inspired. The sound of his dark boots echoed on the tiled floor.

He sat down on the floor, leaning his back against one of his colorful furniture pieces. Taking his pick between his teeth, he started playing a melody that seemed to be etched into his memory—it wasn’t improvised at all.

When he finished playing, as always, Jisung looked up from his red guitar to meet your eyes, but this time, his gaze was more intense than usual.

As the vibration of the guitar faded, you looked up from your phone, focusing on the boy with glasses.

“What did you think of the melody?” he asked, his cheeks slightly flushed.

“It sounds beautiful, like all the others,” you replied, offering him a warm smile.

“Would you like to hear the lyrics? They’re not finished yet” he asked, a hint of doubt in his voice.

Your eyes lit up with curiosity at his question. You nodded softly, letting the anticipation fill the air.

“Of course, I’d love to hear it” you said, shifting closer to him on the floor, ready for whatever he had to share.

Jisung let out a quiet sigh, as though gathering the courage he needed. His fingers tapped nervously on his red guitar before he began to sing. His voice was soft, a little shaky at first, but with each verse, it grew stronger.

He started singing what you assumed was the chorus of the song from the way the rhythm carried it forward.

“Cause all I want is you, not your tears, until the tears dry up.”

As he sang, his eyes stayed locked on yours, conveying every word with a sincerity that moved you. The song spoke of being there for someone, offering unconditional support, and a promise to never let go of the hand of the one you love, no matter the challenges.

The lyrics reflected the depth of your connection, and you realized this song was his way of expressing feelings that ordinary words could never capture.

“I wanna make you the happiest one, no fear. So baby, hold my hand now” he continued singing, his eyes fixed on you. Even without looking at the chords, he didn’t miss a note, as if he’d memorized it completely.

When he finished singing that small piece of the song he had written, he set his guitar aside and held his hand out to you.

“Baby, hold my hand?” he repeated, this time in a questioning tone, waiting for your response.

You lifted your trembling hand from your lap and placed it in his, resting it on his palm. A beautiful, radiant smile spread across Jisung’s face—the brightest you’d ever seen.

He brought your hand to his lips, gently kissing your knuckles without breaking his gaze.

“It’s called ‘Hold My Hand,’ and I wrote it for you. It’s hard for me to express myself with words, but… I’d like to stay by your side forever” he admitted, his face growing redder by the second as he tried to hide it by clasping his hands together.

You couldn’t believe that the boy who had become your safe place was now in front of you, showing his vulnerability through a song written especially for you. Your heart raced so fast you feared he could hear it, but when he looked at you again, with that mix of nervousness and tenderness, a warm sensation filled you completely.

“Did you really write that for me?” you asked softly, barely believing what you’d just heard. Jisung nodded timidly.

“Yeah… It’s just that, well, you inspire me to feel things I’ve never felt before. You’re my safe place” he admitted, glancing away for a moment before meeting your eyes again.

In that exact moment, between the four walls of his room, you realized there was nothing else in the world you wanted more than to make sure he knew how important he was to you.

“Jisung…” you began, holding his hand tighter, as if you didn’t want him to ever let go. “I… you’re my safe place too. I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but I’m so happy to have you.”

A wide smile spread across his face again. Without thinking much more, he leaned toward you, resting his forehead against yours.

“So, will you stay by my side?” he whispered, his eyes closed and an expression of pure sincerity on his face.

“Forever” you promised firmly, feeling his lips brush softly against yours in a kiss filled with emotions. At that moment, you knew there would never be a safer place in the world than his arms.

It seemed you didn’t know everything about him after all. You didn’t even know how many songs he had written in the notebook you gave him, because you definitely didn’t know this song.

Your new favorite song.

[siribaes]

beggin’

armando aretas x (oc) [ black!fem! ]

a decade ago armando spent an unforgettable summer with an unforgettable girl, who taught him everything. his sex teacher. now decade later he’s face to face with the teacher once again, determined to show that her lessons didn’t go to waste.

contents: some dom & sub dynamics. voice fixation. size kink. praise kink. pet names. fingering. brief! p in v. cūnnilingus. p!ssydrunk armando bc duh. slight impact play (no face slapping!) they’re in love but in denial about it, minor drug mention, etc. mdni!

suggested tunes📻: elevator by flo rida & timbaland, strip tease by danity kane, get naked (i got a plan) by britney spears, radio by girlicious, virtual diva by don omar, push by enrique igelsias

author’s note: this is slight au, so think of this being the early stages of the revenge plot prior to isabel’s escape. lol the chokehold that the long lost love/lovers reuniting has lol >> i tried to make this as filthy as a possible :) not proofread or edited!

club exquisite was in full swing. bodies packed the building, from wall to wall, people were dancing, drinking, or doing both simultaneously. multicolored strobe lights swirled and danced, combinations of blues, greens and reds illuminated the dance floor, complimenting the dj’s killer set of miami’s finest.

it was lively and fun.

armando, however, was having anything but.

tucked away in a corner booth of the v.i.p., armando sat bored out of his mind, sipping on way too sweet champagne. he should’ve been doing something more useful with his time. instead, he was stuck playing babysitter for the son of a future drug connect, all this per his mother’s instructions.

. . .this marriage between his son and your cousin, alejandra will benefit us. our partnership will bring us one step closer, it’s all apart of the grand design mijo. . .

was sipping champagne that tasted like super sugary, ginger ale a part of the grand design? apparently. watching the groom-to-be snort a line of coke off of girl’s ass was a part of the grand design too. armando took another sip from the flute before sitting it down on table, watching as the girl giggled and kissed sebastian on the mouth. armando never cared for sebastian, they were just so different from one another. sebastian was a pretty boy who liked pretty things, he never worked a day in his life and instead of doing his own thing, he basked in the glory of his father’s notoriously ruthless reputation. armando was self-made, haunted by his father’s death and forged by the fire of mother’s imprisonment. armando blazed his own path and was destined for greater things.

yet, he was here in miami, clubbing with sebastian’s and his pack of idiot friends.

a heavy hand shook him out of his thoughts.

“primo,” sebastian slurred. he swiped at his runny nose, before running hand down his half buttoned shirt. “c’mon, we’re going to the real v.i.p.,”

slightly relieved, armando followed sebastian as the bachelor party were lead by security out of the main dance floor. as they weaved between the crowd, armando trailed slightly behind, keeping a careful eye out on the crowd. despite never being in a fight in this his life, sebastian had a fuck ton of enemies. he was like that. the music became a faint murmuring as the group walked through a door and into an elaborately painted hallway. the walls were a warm golden color, while the ceiling and its floors were covered in mirrored tile. the group continued on, armando continued to linger in the back. amongst the drunken laughter of sebastian and his friends, was this clicking sound.

click! . . . click! . . . click!

armando searched around for the sound as they continued down the hallway, eyes roamed around until he found the source, woman in a pair of high heels. they weren’t just any, regular pair of heels, they were black-patent leather so kate louboutins. fortunately enough for armando he’s familiar with the shoe, he may or may not have purchased a pair or two for his past situationships. armando continues to observe; taking in the details, the woman’s shapely and toned legs, the rich brown skin, and the intricate zipper tattoo that began at the back of her ankle, and traveled up her leg. the remainder of tattoo was lost from the fabric of her dress.

a curiosity sparked inside of armando, watching the woman confidently strut the mirrored floor. he wanted to see just how far the tattoo went. she continued leaving a lingering smell in her wake. it was a combination of warm and spicy, like cinnamon and peach pie. her fragrance filled the molecules in the air he could practically taste it. after turning a corner, the group came to halt in front of pair of doors. from the other side, a pair of security guards opened up the doors.

sebastian and his friends drunkenly ooo-ed and ahh-ed and the ornate nature of the room. armando could care less about the sliver couch, the decked-out bar or the strippers that awaited them upon their arrival, he focused on her. although he got better view, she still alluded him, he could see her from the back, fully, a black bandage dress, accentuated her curves and that ass. . . it looked so round and perky like you could bounce a quarter off it, or grab a handful.

something slowly churned inside of armando as he moved further into the room. he leisurely grabbed a seat on the far end of the couch, with the hopes of seeing his mystery girl's face. the party continued on with the speakers on the room ceiling playing a feed of the dj’s set back out on the dance floor. sebastian and his groomsmen settled on the couch, excited for their lap dances. the lights dimmed too, not enough obscure one’s sight completely, but dark enough to bring on a certain atmosphere to the space.

armando scanned the room for his mystery girl. somehow she’s disappeared on him.

“aren’t you pretty one,” a voice whispered to him, distracting armando from his search. standing before was a woman, one of the strippers. her voice was overly smoky and performative. even the way she batting her long, wispy lashes, she was trying way too hard. he tilted his head away from his obstructed view, “you wanna dance, papí?” armando glanced up at her, a laugh bubbled up inside of him, he suppressed it, for her sake of course.

“nah, sweetheart. i’m good,” armando rasped. the woman shrugged, on to the next. when the stripper moved, standing directly in his sight was his mystery girl. even through the darkness, she was as clear as day.

her heart-shaped face, her button nose and glossy lips, her disney-drawn eyes, brown and wide, in they way they’ve always looked when she was shocked or anxious.

armando’s mystery girl, was no mystery at all. he knew her.

before he could call out to her, she bolted out of the room through the doors. armando glanced at sebastian, who was having a grand ‘ol time being motorboated by a voluptuous stripper. he’s fine. armando took off, following the cinnamon-peachy scent out to the hallway.

she was almost at the end of the hallway. . .

“leyna?” she stopped. she slowly turned around and faced him. “you runnin’ from me?”

her brows furrowed. “i wasn’t running. i was just. . .getting some air,”

armando’s lips twitched. he sauntered over, baring no shame is as he took, no, drank leyna in. it’s been so long, his eyes roamed over leyna. armando took his time, observing, noting every single detail, both old and new. he zeroes in on her legs, watching has she nervously bounces her right leg, the tattooed one. her louboutins make a soft clicking noise against the floor.

armando smirks.

“still shakin’. . .you must be nervous,” armando gestured, it was a tick leyna’s had since she was a kid. leyna frowned, she stopped bouncing. she folded arms around her chest.

“please, i’m not nervous,” she sassed. her glossy lips pursed, forming into a small pout. such a brat. he wanted to kiss the pout off her lips. “anyways, what are you doing here, in miami?”

for a moment, he thinks. armando could tell her the truth flat out: he’s here in miami for business, and his only job was ensuring that sebastian, sober or not, makes it down the isle. . .or he could stretch the truth out. make it a game for himself. anything to distract leyna, even if it’s for a short while.

so, armando shrugs. “business,”

“business? that’s it? it’s been ten years armando, that’s all you have to say?”

armando steps closer to leyna. his over 6-foot frame easily towers over her petite 5-foot-3 frame. has she always been so tiny? he reaches out towards her, the corner of his lips twitch as leyna’s chest rises as her breath catches in her throat. he twirls a long strand of between his fingers, before giving it a gentle tug.

“s’ somewhere we can talk?”

“armando,” leyna sighed. her voice was all high and pitchy, it scratched a certain part of his brain. a flood of memories came surging through. he need hear leyna say his name like that again. “i’m working. both of us should get b-back,”

leyna moves past him, armando doesn’t protest. as she starts walking away, armando reaches into his pant’s pocket.

“how much?” leyna spins around on her heels. a flicker of curiosity dances in her eyes.

“huh?” armando watches leyna eyes light up even more when pulls a money clip out. he thumbs through several bills before he lifts it up.

“its ‘bout three g’s in my hand. should be enough for a shift plus tips, yeah?” her eyes bounce between the money and armando. he can see the wheels in her mind turn, she chews on the bottom of her glossy lips.

“10-minutes. that’s all i can do,” armando nodded. he placed the money in her hand, his fingers gently brushed against hers. ten minutes is all he needs.

armando follows leyna down the hallway, opposite of the party. his eyes roamed, watching leyna’s body sway as she walked. he shouldn’t be turned on from a walk but he was. leyna didn’t walk, she glided. so effortless, and so easy, better then any it was something about seeing her so confidence all these years later. it was refreshing, armando dealt with so many fakes and try hards in his line of business. leyna’s confidence was real. she was real.

“i can feel you staring,” leyna sassed. they stop at a door, she quickly inputs a set of numbers on a keypad. the door clicks.

“i like what i see,” leyna shakes her head, she opens the door, stepping aside to let armando walk in front of her.

the room itself was half the size of the v.i.p. room, and opposite in aesthetics too. the walls were painted a nice, creamy beige, with a matching colored couch. on the far wall, there was an elaborate shelf display old-used bottles of champagne. armando steps inside, taking the room in. the door softly closes, with a click. the room is quiet.

“so,” leyna drawls. she takes a seat on the couch. armando follows suit, sitting next to her. their knees almost graze each others. she flips her hair over her shoulder. “wanna tell me the real reason why you’re here in miami?”

armando chuckles. “a wedding. my cousin ‘s gettin’ married,”

“alejandra?” she remembered, of course she did. she was always to so knowledgeable and attentive. she used to be like that to him.

“yeaaah. she’s been lovin’ bein’ in charge of everybody with the plannin’ and stuff,”

“i hope she’s not bogging you down too much,” his lips tipped into a teeny-tiny smile. she still was still the ever-doting teacher, worried about her student.

“nah. wedding plannin’ ain’t my thing. besides, i’m just assigned babysittin’ duty for sebastian,”

“mhm. i would’ve never paired them together. alejandra, from what i remembered, was so kind, and funny, smart too! sebastian is just a grade-a asshole who likes wreck every club he goes to and piss in public,” armando chuckles as leyna shivers, maybe recalling a memory. armando reaches for the hem of her dress, he toys with it between his fingers. she doesn’t stop him.

“she loves ‘em i guess,” part of that was true, their marriage was arranged yet, alejandra told him that she’s learned to love parts of sebastian. there’s a part of him that wished it wasn’t like that for her.

“i wish her the best,” leyna spoke solemnly.

the room fell quiet, armando still toyed with the edge of leyna’s dress. he tipped his head, looking at leyna.

“you’ve been good though, yeah,” he meant for it to be question but it came out as a statement. she had to be good though, she looked good, and had this fancy ass job at one of miami’s most exclusive clubs. life had to be good.

leyna’s leg began to bounce, as she twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “yeah, i guess. my life’s been pretty boring since you’ve seen me,”

“tell me,”

“well. . .” leyna trailed. her leg still bounced. armando wanted grab her ankle and make her stop. why was his girl nervous? “i graduated, i gotta b.a. in business administration, got this hostess job short after, met my best friend ana here, let me tell you she’s literally the best cook,” she was rambling, slightly, but armando didn’t care, he wanted to know every single detail. he missed his girl, his bambi. they need to make up for lost time.

“we’re going into business together, a restaurant. i’m going to take care of all the logistics, put my degree to good use, finally. so, yeah, i’m really excited about it, as you can see. but yeah, uhm, what else, i was engaged,”

armando stopped toying with the hem. he turned and took her fully, her right leg bounced even more so. that’s what she was nervous about.

“what happened?”

“uhm,” her beautiful features held a pained expression. a twinge of anger sprouted inside of armando, seeing her like this. whoever made his girl upset needed their ass kicked, especially by him. “to make a long story short, he cheated, multiple times actually. i just got tired being the laughing stock in every room,” she lowered her gaze and fiddled her hands.

armando slowly reached for leyna’s hands. her hands were so soft under his touch. with his thumb, he drew light circles on the back of her hands. a strange emotion was bubbling up inside him, he couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was. a little anger, some jealousy, a little sadness too, it was just too much fully explain but the his urge was clear. armando wanted to pull her close, and take care of her like she truly deserves.

“he didn’t deserve you,” she looks at him now, her big brown eyes all wide and glossed over. long lashes fluttered against the tops of her round cheeks, her resemblance to bambi was spot-on. the air became thick around them, and that urge, thrummed in his bones.

armando wanted leyna and he wanted her bad.

“you deserved somebody that’ll take care of you,” he rasped. his words were sincere and true, leyna was one of the kindest, tentative, sweetest people he had ever known. she shown him a kindness when most people wouldn’t. leyna deserved the world, and then some. “you deserve someone who’s gonna protect you, an’ spoil you, an’ just fuckin’ be there,” words were spilling out of his mouth now, like faucet left on. he leans in closer to her, glancing down her glossy lips. he licked his own. “bambi, you deserve someone that can make you feel good,” armando was so dangerously close he could see a breath get caught in leyna’s throat, her chest slight rose up in response. he caught a glimpse of leyna’s jet-black bra that held up her ample cleavage. the peachy-cinnamon smell radiated off the column of her neck, it enticed him, slowly drawing him closer and closer to her.

armando leaned his forehead against her’s.

“fuck, bambi,”

“. . .armando,” leyna whispered. her voice was so pitchy and soft, it smoothed over him. it triggered a hunger for leyna, more veracious than ever before. ten years of distance and unresolved feelings, danced in his blood. his palms itched with desire to squeeze and caress leyna’s soft skin. he wanted to touch the softest part of her.

“please. bambi, ‘jus lemme care take of you, make you feel good. . . i never get what i want,”

leyna back away from him, keeping a steady gaze, she caressed the side of armando’s cheek. her manicured acrylics lightly scratched at his goatee. a bolt of electricity shot through his body when her thumb swiped at his bottom lip.

“i’ve only been with a few men after you,” leyna confessed. “none of them, including my ex, made me feel good like you did. you were the only one,”

armando groaned, lowly. everything in him surged to the surface, so much so he was bursting at the seams.

“c’mere,” leyna obliged. he pulls her in for a kiss. at first it was chaste and sweet, armando tried to ease into the kiss, but the pillowy, softness of her lips and her sweet peachy smell drove him insane. he deepened the kiss, moving his lips hungrily, against hers, while he cradled her head. when he licked her lips, leyna opened her mouth to allow him to explore with her with his tongue. she tasted like peach pie.

"i need it," leyna moaned into his mouth. armando hovered over her lips.

"you say somethin' bambi," he teased, he slid his hands down her frame, stopping at her ass. he rubbed and squeezed, before smacking it. she squeaked.

"baby, please," leyna whimpered, she climbed into armando's lap. she slowly, ground down on his lap, she gasped, feeling his hardness. the look she had in her eyes, a mix of lust and longing, shot straight through him and went to his dick. he snaked a hand towards the back of her neck, he gently gripped the soft flesh. she stopped her movement.

"take that fuckin' dress off," he groaned. leyna blinks. she rose from his lap and proceeded to shimmy out of the dress. she let it pool at her feet before stepping out of it. armando couldn't help himself, all of her smooth curves, and deep rich skin, he just wanted to take a big bite of her. he pulled her back to the couch, switching places, and slid between her legs.

there was no pretense, armando immediately spread her legs wide went straight for leyna's pussy. with his thumb he rubs at her clothed pussy. he revels in the small squelching noise that her pussy makes. leyna whimpers, looking down at him with those big, brown eyes. he chuckles.

“still sensitive?” leyna quickly nods. armando chuckles again, he peels her to the side, admiring the slivery trail of arousal that drips from her pussy onto the fabric. he hums. such a pretty pussy. leyna's pink pussy drips and drools with arousal, fully open and ready, all for him. with calloused thumbs, armando rubs small, droopy circles on the inner parts of leyna's thighs. he inched forward, replacing his fingers with chaste kisses, they create goosebumps on leyna's skin. he licks his lips, keeping his eyes on leyna, kisses her clit.

"fuck! armando,"

he anticipates. before she could ask, armando lays his tongue flat against leyna’s dripping core.

“oo-ooh,” she coos. “you ‘remembered,”

how could he forget, images of him buried between leyna’s shaky legs are burned into his brain. countless lessons from her, teaching him, guiding him. he swears he can hear her voice, way back when during that time.

. . .spread your tongue, a little to the left. yeah ‘just like that, s’ good. good boy. . .

a forceful yank on armando’s curls bring him back to reality. he adjusts his grip on leyna’s thighs, spreading them wider, the pads of his thumbs caressing the plushness.

“fuuuck me! oh my g-god,” leyna whines. armando smiles against her skin, his tongue licks a long stripe against leyna’s core. her arousal is sweet, like peach ice cream. it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever, will ever taste. his sweet girl. armando groans, pulling back slightly, he brings his calloused thumb to leyna’s swollen nub. armando rubs her clit, reveling in her response to his touch. she practically glows, deep brown skin, completely flushed, reddening a bit at her chest. her glossy lips formed into a cute pout, her bottom lip poking ever so slightly, just begging to be kissed, to be bitten by him. seeing her so overwhelmed, so pleasured, sends wave of arousal through armando. his erection painfully rubs against the fabric of his slacks.

“eyes on me, baby,” armando rasps. leyna’s struggle to stay open, succumbing to euphoria between her legs. smack! leyna’s disney-drawn eyes shoot open, to look down at armando. for a moment armando sees something flicker in them, it strips him bare, milliseconds feel like years under her gaze. armando pulls back, spitting directly onto leyna’s pussy. with a new vigor, he dives back in, his tongue licks and drags up and down her softness. his tongue swirls the mix, leyna’s honeyed arousal and his spit, gathering and spreading it onto her clit. he begins suckling the nub, feeling leyna’s sugary essence drip down his goateed chin.

“a-armando! wait s-slow down,”

“uh-uh. you’re my big girl,” he spits, again. armando slurps leyna’s clit, hard. no better then a starving man. “you can take it,”

“c-cumin’. i’m cumin’ baby, pleaseee,” leyna lets out a melodious whine. better than any song or music he’s ever heard. nothing can compare to his girl’s angelic voice, all pitchy and delicate. it’s music to his ears.

“ 's i got you. i got you bambi, let it out,” armando drawls. he sucks at leyna’s clit as it throbs against his tongue. her legs clamp down around armando’s head, this makes him push harder to get her over the edge. he switches his approach, one hand pries open leyna’s leg, with the other he slips his middle finger inside her entrance, slowly prodding her open, he flattens his tongue to lap at her clit. with the other hand he reaches, palming one of her bra covered breasts.

“s-shit! don’t stop please,” leyna is babbling now. she rakes her nails through armando’s thick curls. armando can feel her tightening around his middle finger. she’s close. . .

bam! the band snaps. leyna orgasms hard.

her sugary, syrupy essence flows out of her. leyna holds armando’s head close, she rides out her aftershocks, jerking lightly when his tongue and nose glides over her sensitive clit. slowly, armando pulls away, a string a saliva connects from his lips to leyna’s pussy. he rose up from his crouched position. armando towering over her, his eyes gazing down at her, dilated pupils heavy with dangerous mix, care and lust, maybe even something more. the soft lighting catches armando’s glistening goatee and cheeks. his pink tongue swipes at his bottom lip, like a coyote eyeing its subdued prey.

leyna was everything at the same time. his baby take care of, his princesa to spoil, and his bambi to devour.

“h-how’d you get so good,” leyna stammered. her breathing is still a bit choppy.

“learned from the best,” he rasps, he eyes slowly rake over, as if he was studying her. he wanted to remember her in this very moment.

leyna smiles, sheepishly.

“c’mere,” armando beckons. leyna obliges, she sits up, scooting closer to the edge of the couch. armando tilts leyna chin upwards, he leans in, capturing her lips. he nips at her bottom lip, when leyna opens her mouth, he seizes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside. she tastes herself on his tongue, it starts off tangy but quickly bleeds into a saccharine taste. their tongues wrestle. before, in this war of mouths, leyna used to win, mostly due to armando’s lack of experience, but now it’s much different. he wields his tongue masterfully like knight and their sword, twisting and tasting every inch of her mouth.

“you ready for me princesa?” leyna nods. he watches as her mouth opens and then closes when he slips his shirt over his head. she's pratically drooling at the sight. she should be, countless hours of training have contributed to his sculpted body, all muscles and hard edges. mindlessly her fingers trace over his chest. nails drag over the ridges of his six-pack. she stops her ogling when she sees a scar near his rib cage. armando notices.

“bar fight. fucker, got me good with a broken bottle. had to get a couple stitches,”

“oh baby,”

“hey, hey,” armando gently grabs leyna’s hand. he drags it up, so it cups his cheek. “i’m good,”

his voice holds sincerity as that strange feeling returns inside of him. that urge to hold and take care of leyna, to protect her from his woes, the world, and all its troubles. leyna reaches down to unbuckle his pants, but he stops her.

“not tonight, bambi. wanna be inside of you,”

leyna gulps. he cocks his head to the side.

“don't get all shy on me now," armando tilts her chin. "you know what to do, princesa,"

leyna peels out of her slightly ripped and soaked panties, she tosses them aside. she reaches behind for the clasp of her bra, she unbuckles it, carefully she lays it on the couch next to her dress. when leyna reaches down to slip off her heels, armando tsks.

“nah. leave ‘em on,” armando bites his lip, his eyes sweeping over her naked frame. she’s changed a lot over ten years, she’s curvier, with an obvious plushness and fullness in her breasts and ass. noticeably, there’s a small tattoo of a lotus flower on the upper right side of her rib cage. “fuck, bambi. you all grown up,”

leyna opens her mouth to retort but she shuts it as armando unbuttons his pants.

"you trust me?" armando huffs, he slowly pumps his hardness, feeling pre-cum leaking from his tip.

“of course, i trust you,” leyna replies softly.

“shit princesa. you can’t say stuff like that,” armando murmurs.

he slowly spins leyna around, her back was at his front. he made sure slowly grind his bulge into her, so she could feel all of him.

“soy el rey ahora,” there a slight edge in his voice, it contrasted with the soft circles he drew on the back of her neck. “on all fours, princesa,” leyna obliges. she moves towards the couch, planting herself on her hands and knees, and arches her back. armando groans as she makes a show of it, wiggling her hips in the process. “so pretty liked this. my sweet girl, my bambi, imma fuck the shit out of you,” armando all but growls. a hand reaches into her scalp, fisting her hair. he forcefully tugs at her locks, pulling her head backwards.

leyna whimpers. “baby ‘s rough,”

armando roughly spits on her pussy. he watches as the spit slides down, mixing with her slickness. he’s not nice, not like before. all the care and attention he paid towards her pussy, that armando was long gone. now, replaced with a meaner, tunnel-vision armando. he pushes himself, filling her to her hilt, his stretching out her pussy, all of ridges of his dick rubbing against her gummy walls. she's so warm and tight, a delicious contrast of pushing and pulling him further inside of her. a chill runs down leyna's spine while her manicured nails claw at the fabric of the couch.

“oh fuck!” leyna shouts, armando smacks her right ass-cheek. he executes a few shallow thrusts, barely moving in and out of leyna.

“how bad you wan’ it?” armando drawls.

“so bad baby, please fuck me, please,” leyna’s hoarseness sounds ethereal to him. the breathy way she sounds, the want, the need, makes him even harder. so much so it pains him.

“i got you,” armando tightens the hold he has on leyna’s hair and hip. he pulls all the way out, admiring the mess his girl makes on his dick. the glossy shine the covers him. he stifles back a moan, her warmth and softness send waves of pleasure straight to his dick. he bites down on his lip, watching leyna’s ass ripple against him with every stroke. a bolt of electricity shoots through him as she clamps down on him, her walls tighten, and grip at his dick. she's close.

"i feel you, you cumin' bambi?"

“y-yes, oooh fuck! i’m so close. don’t stop,"

a loud chiming erupts over the sex sounds leyna makes. armando can feel a vibration in his pocket. he reluctantly reaches and sees who’s calling his phone, he answers, while still keeping a steady pace. pumping in and in out of leyna.

“fuck, you want,” armando growls, one hand on the phone while the other holds onto leyna’s shoulder. she moans a little too loud, so he covers her mouth. over the phone one of sebastian’s groomsmen informs that sebastian has wandered off with one of the strippers, no one can find him and he’s left his phone behind. “fuck me. fuckin’ pendejo, i-i’ll be over in a minute, shit,” armando slows down his pace before pulling out completely, leyna whines at the loss of contract.

“i gotta go,” armando sighs. leyna now sits facing him.

“but why? what’s the matter?” his heart pangs at the disappointment that edges out in her voice. he quickly redresses, buckling his pants and slipping his shirt back over and on.

“a situation came up,” he leans down and kisses her on the cheek. “imma come an’ find you,”

without another look or word, armando walks out of the v.i.p. with a hard dick and an odd feeling panging in his chest.

[blueiscoool]

Mummies with Golden Tongues Found in 2,500-Year-Old Egyptian Tomb

More than a dozen ancient gold tongues have been discovered in a cemetery at the site of Oxyrhynchus in Egypt.

Archaeologists in Egypt have discovered 13 ancient mummies with gold tongues and nails in a cemetery at the site of Oxyrhynchus.

The team made the finds when they dug down to the bottom of a burial shaft, revealing a hall with three chambers that held dozens of mummies. The human remains date to the Ptolemaic period (circa 304 to 30 B.C.), a time when a dynasty descended from one of Alexander the Great's generals ruled Egypt, according to two statements released by the Egyptian Ministry of Tourism and Antiquities.

Archaeologists had previously unearthed 16 gold tongues at Oxyrhynchus. The ancient Egyptians put gold tongues in mummies with the intention of helping the deceased speak in the afterlife, and because they believed that gold was "the flesh of the gods," Esther Pons Mellado and Maite Mascort, co-directors of the Spanish-Egyptian archaeological mission at Oxyrhynchus, said earlier this year. The same team made the new finds.

"The number of gold tongues here is high, which is interesting," Salima Ikram, an Egyptology professor at the American University in Cairo who was not involved with the latest excavation, said in an email. "Possibly the bodies belong to higher elites that were associated with the temple and animal cults that proliferated in the area," Ikram said, noting it's possible that gold tongues "might have been the vogue for the embalming house in the area."

During the latest dig, the archaeologists also found 29 amulets with the mummies. Some amulets are in the shape of scarab beetles, as the ancient Egyptians associated scarabs with the movement of the sun across the sky. Other amulets are in the shape of Egyptian deities, including Horus, Thoth and Isis. Some of them have forms that combine multiple deities together.

The excavation also revealed wall paintings, including one that depicts a tomb owner named "Wen-Nefer," who is shown being accompanied by several Egyptian deities. Another painting on the ceiling depicts the sky goddess Nut surrounded by the stars. There is also a painting of a boat that has multiple deities depicted on it.

"As for the paintings, the quality is really excellent and the freshness of colors is simply amazing," Francesco Tiradritti, an Egyptologist at D'Annunzio University of Chieti-Pescara in Italy who was not involved in the dig, said in an email.

By Owen Jarus.

[dem-obscure-imagines]

You're So Timeless | Vol. 2

Steve Rogers x Reader

Fandom: MCU

Summary: In 1943, Steve Rogers was visited by his soulmate. He fell hard. Problem is, she was from the future and didn’t stick around for long. Now, in the twenty-first century, he finally found her again, except this version of her hasn’t met him yet and won’t know he’s her soulmate for another year. 

Note: So this is a combination of my other two Steve Rogers soulmate AU fics, but lengthened and fleshed out into a full fic. I was literally possessed to write this. I have no other explanation. I really like how it came out. I gave this one chapter headings (I am also going to post it to Ao3) and yes some are Taylor Swift titles. Sorry about that. It takes place roughly around the time Civil War would, but we have managed to avoid the war this time around. I also moved some other characters up the timeline because I think they’re neat and I said so. Without further ado, please enjoy my new Magnum Opus.

Also Tumblr made me split it into two parts. This is PART 2. Part 1 is linked HERE.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence/injuries, soulmate au, tons of mutual pining, kind of a slowburn but in reverse. Light angst, but a happy ending.

Word Count: 38.7k total (I am not sorry)

Reader Is: Enhanced (forcefields), 24 years old, female 

The Recovery Period

When you woke up, Steve was there sitting in the infirmary, sleeping. His head was leaning back against the wall, snores deep and quiet. It was dark. You weren’t sure how long it had been. You blinked a few times and took a breath, your chest protesting when you did.

The monitor you were hooked to started beeping loudly and Steve awoke, meeting your eyes. He called for Bruce and stood from his chair, approaching the side of your bed. You reached for his hand and he gave it to you immediately, fingers latching onto yours, as though to prove you were awake, that you were alive.

Bruce arrived and gave you the rundown, the grenade, which you remembered, the fact that you had a cracked rib and quite a bit of bruising, but that you had gotten very lucky otherwise. He prescribed you some pain meds and six weeks of rest with a brace before he’d reevaluate.

And at first, it wasn’t bad. Sam played a lot of Fortnite with you. You were pretty good at it, surprisingly. Tony had a pretty extensive collection of movies and you had every snack you could ever dream of. You got some reading done, you picked up crochet, and everyone spent a lot of time entertaining you.

Bucky introduced himself. Steve had talked about him a bit before you met him, but the man standing in front of you was a lot quieter than you’d expected, more timid. You figured he’d open up more once he was convinced none of you were scared of him. And you weren’t. The dangerous part of him was the Winter Soldier, something Wanda had been working with him to unwind from the depths of his mind.

After a few days, when your pain had toned down a bit, Natasha sat you on a stool in the kitchen and gave your hair a trim, getting rid of the singed ends. Wanda got into the undercover stash in one of the bathrooms and found a few bottles of hair bleach and some blue dye. Steve found the three of you in there with hair shears, and a bowl of mixed blue dye that Wanda was painting onto your freshly bleached ends.

He had no complaints. After all, blue was your color. It was quite a bit shorter, too, but he thought it suited you. He thought everything suited you, to be honest.

You did some online shopping in those first few weeks. Your Avengers allowance was no joke and you had barely touched any of it yet, which meant a new reading chair was well within the budget, a cool round one than you could hang from the ceiling. It was Steve that found you pushing the giant box down the hall when it arrived.

“Hey! Woah, are you supposed to be pushing that?”

You froze, turning to face him. “Maaaaybe.”

“Alright, move.” He chuckled, rolling up his sleeves and taking over, pushing it down the hall to your room. “What is this anyway?”

“New reading chair. It’s really cool, it hangs from the ceiling.”

“And you were going to do that part, too?”

“I was gonna figure it out. Maybe use my powers for that part.”

“Ah, right. Forgot about those.”

“Me too, honestly. Haven’t used them much lately.”

“For good reason.” He straightened out, the box now sitting in the middle of your room. “How are you feeling, better?”

“A lot better. Still a little sore, but my bruises are starting to clear up.” You motioned to the brace you had to wear around your middle. “Might be out of this thing before six weeks if I can help it.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see what Bruce says.”

“Of course.” You nodded, using a pair of scissors to slice the tape along the top of the box.

Steve opened it up and started taking parts out. You reached for the instructions and sat down next to him on the floor, familiarizing yourself with the process. It didn’t look too difficult and it was only a few pieces of hardware.

“I’m gonna go grab some of Tony’s tools.” He told you, walking towards Tony’s workroom. He returned a few minutes later with a drill and a screwdriver. “Alright, where are we starting?”

“Okay, so we attach the chair part to the support chains, and then those get screwed into the ceiling. Like this.” You showed him the diagram.

“I’m no handyman, but I think we can figure it out.” He grinned, scooting a little closer to you.

“Oh I’m sure we can.”

It didn’t take long. Less than an hour. The two of you talked, joked, laughed. Eventually, you used your powers to hold the thing in place so Steve could screw it into the ceiling. He got off the stepladder and sat in the chair, testing the strength of the chair himself before deciding it was good enough for you. With a smile, he got up and motioned for you to give it a try.

You put the cushions on the chair and sat down, smiling. “I’ve always wanted a chair like this.”

“Well I’m glad I could help that dream come true.” He chuckled. He handed you the book sitting on your desk. “Here, give it a real test.”

“Oh good idea.” You chuckled, positioning the book in your hands, curling your legs into your desired reading position. Yep, it worked. And it was pretty comfortable. “Now all I need is a little lamp over here.”

“Let me know when that comes in.” Steve chuckled, thumbs tucked into his pockets. “I’ll be here.”

Steve watched you with a soft smile, how happy you were. Maybe someday, he would build other things for you, in a house you shared. A nice little place in the suburbs, or on a farm somewhere, like Clint had made for his wife, Laura. He’d build you a million reading chairs. Hell, he’d build you a whole library if it’d put that smile on your face.

“You ever built Legos before?” you asked.

“I don’t even know what those are.”

“Alright, we’ll fix that. There’s a really easy fix to that, actually.” You pulled out your phone, clicked a few links, and then looked back up at him with a smile. “It’s on its way.”

“What’s that look for?”

“You will find out in two to three business days.”

***

By the time your Millennuim Falcon Lego set came in, Steve had been sent on another mission. And while he was gone, the Compound got an unexpected visitor in the form of Scott Lang, who Sam found on the roof and promptly got his ass kicked by while you were sitting at the monitors, one of the only things that you could do with your current injury.

“Don’t tell Steve.”

“Oh I won’t.” You spun out of your office chair, made a portal to the warehouse, and stepped through it, using your augmented goggles to find the guy, trapping him in a tiny forcefield. Sam came into the warehouse shortly after, looking at the bubble you’d made with interest.

“Got him. Ow!” Something nipped at your ankle and you looked down to find hundreds of ants. “Oh FUCK no.” You dropped him and kicked off the ants, making a platform of energy to stand on so they couldn’t crawl on you.

“Hey man, she’s injured!” Sam called into the room, looking around for wherever he had gone.

“Sorry!” The attacker replied.

And that was the last you saw or heard from him until Sam tracked him down, offering him membership on the team, if he so wanted it. Someone who shrunk could be a great asset on the team. Which is why when he told the rest of you about Hope, someone who did the same but with wings, obviously, she was invited, too.

The team was growing, and as it did, the Compound felt less empty, which was nice, especially when the team was split off doing their own things.

Steve came back shortly after, looking tired. It hadn’t been anything too bad, from what you’d heard, but he, Natasha, Clint, and Tony had been gone for a week. Still, the moment he was back, he popped his head into your room.

“Hey.”

“When did you guys get back?” You asked, looking up from your book, curled up in your reading chair.

“Just now. Um, I’m gonna take a shower, and then…Legos?” He asked, eyes earnest. You could tell he had been thinking about it the whole time he’d been gone.

“Oh absolutely. I’ve got ‘em ready to go.”

“Excellent. See you in twenty.” He saluted, walking down the hall to his room. You got the massive box of Legos out of your closet and brought it out to the table in the lounge, waiting patiently for Steve, who got out of the shower not that long after, dressed in sweats and a tank-top, still a bit damp from the water.

“Tadaaaa~” you said, pushing the box across the table. 

His eyes lit up as soon as he realized what it was. “Where did you get this?”

“Amazon.”

“It comes with Han Solo?” Steve asked, looking at the pictures of the minifigures on the box.

“Yeah, of course it does. Comes with Leia, too.” You grinned, opening the box and dealing out instruction manuals, sorting the bags into neat little piles.

“This is great.” He smiled. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” You shrugged. “I owe you one for building my reading chair. Now pay attention; This little orange thing is a Lego separator. It’ll help if you get them stuck together and can’t get them apart. Oh, and do not step on them. It will hurt so bad.”

He chuckled. “Thanks for the heads-up. So where do we start?”

Catch Me Now

Finally, after what felt like the longest recovery period ever, you were cleared once more for missions and training. However, you didn’t have any at the moment. Missions, that was. You were back to training with the others three times a week. Steve had you back on a workout regimen, but he was treating you different, like at any moment your rib might randomly re-crack.

Wanda and Vision got sent off on a mission with Clint, a recruitment mission. Apparently, there was another archer on his radar. A good one. It was his hope that with another archer on the team, he could take a bit of a step back, still be involved when he was needed, but hopefully, he’d be able to spend some more time with his family.

This meant, however, that you didn’t have anyone to go to the local theater’s Hunger Games marathon with. You asked Natasha first, but she was busy looking through some files, working out the details of the coming missions.

“I think Steve is here today. You could ask him if he wants to go.”

You could, you supposed. You felt a lot closer to him, lately. You had been spending a lot of time with him, between the extra training and the Legos. He had custody of the Millennium Falcon set, but he’d given you the Leia minifigure. She was sitting on your desk in your room.

So, with a shrug, you agreed, walking down the hall to Steve’s room and knocking on the door. He and Bucky were in there, talking hushedly about something, but they quieted at the sound of your knuckles against the wood.

The door opened and Bucky looked down at you, smiling when he realized who it was. “Oh, hey, (Y/N).” He welcomed you in, shooting Steve a look.

“Hey, (Y/N). What’s going on?”

“If you’re busy, I can come back later.”

“Oh, no, we’re just…catching up.” Steve said.

“Gotcha. So um…Wanda was supposed to go to a movie marathon with me at the mall today, but she forgot she had to go on that mission, so I was wondering if you wanted to come with? I already bought the tickets.”

“Oh, sure. What movies?”

“The Hunger Games.”

“Yeah, absolutely.” Steve nodded. “Just let me get changed.”

“You can come too, if you want, Bucky. I’m sure they’re not sold out.”

“Oh, that is alright, (Y/N). Thank you, though. I’ve gotta work myself up to public outings.” He looked between the two of you, a weird sparkle in his eye. “You two have fun.”

“Will do.” Steve replied, chuckling as his friend left.

You left after, getting changed into the outfit you’d picked out. It was pretty simple: a bleach-dyed Hunger Games shirt, some comfy joggers for the long day ahead, and a pair of slip-on shoes. You grabbed your purse and walked back out to the living room, where Steve was waiting, dressed in his civilian disguise, a baseball cap and glasses. No one would ever recognize him in glasses.

“Ready?”

“Ready.” You nodded, plucking your keys off of the hook by the door.

“Oh, I can drive.” Steve offered.

“Okay.” You agreed, putting your keys back.

He picked up his instead, from the hook next to yours. You walked out and got in Steve’s car, hopping in the passenger seat. The mall was about an hour out. Steve took the backroads, the scenic route. But you didn’t have to give him directions. He knew where he was going. After all, it was the same mall where he had met you.

You gazed out the window, watching the trees go by, looking for deer. Steve gazed over at you every so often, thinking about how someday, when you were driving places, he’d be able to reach over and take your hand, bring it to his lips. His heart ached just thinking about it. The next four and a half months couldn’t pass quickly enough.

“So what are these movies about? I keep hearing about them.” He asked, desperate to hear your voice.

“Are you familiar with the dystopian genre?”

“Yeah, kinda. Like weird, bad future kinda stuff.”

“Exactly. So this one is in a world called Panem, which is supposed to be North America hundreds of years from now. There’s twelve districts and a Capitol that rules over them all. Because of a rebellion about seventy-four years earlier, every year, two kids are chosen from each district to battle to the death in an arena.”

“Woah.”

“Yeah it’s kind of a lot. It’s really good, though. Lots of commentary on the United States government. No offense.”

He chuckled. “None taken. The America I stood for back then…I’m learning it was a different America from the one we live in now. But it’s hard to shake a name that’s been stuck with you for the better part of a century.”

“What would you choose?”

“What name?”

“Yeah, if you got to choose again, now, what codename would you choose?”

“Oh, gosh, I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Something cool. I’d need help workshopping. And you? If you got to choose again?”

“I’m good with Waypoint. For a while, at least.” You shrugged. “It’s kinda fitting, all things considered.”

“It is. Suits you.”

“Thanks.” You chuckled. “So how is everything? How is Bucky doing?”

“Good. They’re um, scheduling a day to test out his…what’re they called, his trigger words? To see if Wanda’s tinkering in his head has been working.”

“Oh wow. That sounds like a lot.”

“It is. He’s nervous, but he knows it has to be done.” Steve sighed and gave a shrug. “And whatever happens, he’s got us to catch him, figure out what comes next.”

“Absolutely.” You nodded.

Steve pulled into the mall parking lot, following the signs to find the doors closest to the theater. You handed him his ticket, which was printed on shimmery, gold paper, the Mockingjay symbol stamped on in black ink. You reached into your pocket and handed him a length of string with beads on it.

“I made it for Wanda, so it might not fit.” You warned.

He read the words, spaced between orange and black and gold beads. “District 12?”

“It’ll make more sense in a bit.” You chuckled and held out your wrist, where the matching one was. “Gotta represent.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” He slipped the bracelet on, the beads spaced out and stretched around his wide wrist. “See, fits fine.”

“Uh-huh, sure does.” You laughed. “Look, it fits perfectly. You can almost read it.”

“Just about.” He grinned, reaching for the door handle.

“So, what’s our cover?”

“What?”

“Our cover. We can’t be Avengers here.”

“Right, um…” Steve thought for a moment. “You work at the library. I’m your boyfriend and you dragged me here, but I’m very supportive.”

“The most supportive.” You agreed. “Alright, I’ll play. Let’s go.”

Steve locked up the car, the horn honking as the two of you walked towards the entrance of the mall. You led him upstairs to the movie theater entrance. You checked in with your tickets and the girls at the table gave you your commemorative popcorn tins and cups. Steve went to get the popcorn filled. You stood over by the soda fountains. He returned with a huge grin and a bucket of popcorn.

“Look at this! They’re so big now.”

You laughed. “How big were they before?”

“Little paper bag.” He chuckled and turned towards the Cocacola Freestyle machine, looking at the buttons with wonder. “Alright what is this?”

“The future of beverage technology.” You told him, putting ice in your cup and tapping one of the beverage options, opening up all the extra flavors before choosing yours.

Steve poked the Coke button and read over all the options before settling on Cherry Vanilla Coke. He snapped the lid on and put a straw in it, taking a cursory sip. He smiled. “Takes me back.”

“Got that vintage taste?” You asked.

He nodded. “At the risk of sounding like a commercial, yeah, it does.”

You led Steve to the theater where you’d be spending the entire rest of the day. You walked him through the schedule. First was Hunger Games from noon until 2:22. There’d be a ten minute break, then Catching Fire from 2:32 to 4:58. There was a forty-five minute break for dinner. Then Mockingjay Parts 1 and 2 until just after ten. Every movie, they punched a hole in your ticket, and if you got all four, they were handing out little prizes, supposedly. You weren’t sure what yet, but you were excited to find out.

“Got a long day ahead of us.”

“I better not catch you nodding off.” You teased, kicking back the recliner.

“I don’t snore that loud.” He said, following your lead and pressing the same button to lift his. God, theaters had changed. He set the popcorn tin between the two of you. He couldn’t count on two hands how many pointless dates he’d gone on with Bucky before he met you for the first time, how many pretty dames he’d offered popcorn, only for them to completely blow him off. But when he’d taken you to the movies back then, you’d shared gladly. And today was no different. You scooted closer, your hand brushing his every so often.

The movie started and Steve watched, enamored. It was different than the movies he was used to, sure. Maybe Star Wars had warmed him up, or maybe it was the fact that you were sitting there beside him, but he loved every second.

Between movies, the two of you went back out to the lobby to get your tickets punched for Catching Fire, stretch your legs and get refills. Steve noticed a handout for the flashback movies that were coming up. His eyes landed on the Wizard of Oz and his gaze softened.

“They still show this?” Steve asked, pointing to the poster.

“Yeah, every handful of years. It’s a classic.” You smiled. “I think I was Dorothy for Halloween one year.”

“Would you go see it with me?” He asked.

“Yeah, of course.”

Sure, things were different between you and Steve than he thought it would be. He knew it would be a while before you’d know. You’d told him you’d been friends for about a year before visiting him, but it felt so much longer, living through every day, scared to even take your hand without sending the wrong message.

You saved him the trouble, though, reaching out for his free hand. He took it without hesitation, giving it a squeeze. God, he’d do anything to kiss you, but he knew that would be stepping clear over that line. Holding hands was friendly enough. Hell, you held Wanda’s hand all the time and that didn’t mean anything. He was pretty sure, anyway.

“Where’d you go just now?” You asked, your hand his anchor in the moment, keeping him from drifting back off into the past again.

“Nowhere, I just…this is nice. Thanks for taking me out.”

“Thanks for coming with me.”

You went back into the theater, hand in hand, carrying your refills. This time, you’d gotten a slushee, and he had decided to do the same. You settled back into your seats, assuming your spots with the people you had been sitting near before. If anything, there were even more people in the theater for Catching Fire.

Steve took a sip of the slushee, looking over at you. “It’s cold.”

“Yeah, it’s ice.” You laughed. “Do you like it?”

He scrunched his face. “Ooh, brainfreeze.”

“You’ve gotta go slow.”

“Lesson learned.”

The lights dimmed and you grinned, looking back at the screen, missing the longing look in Steve’s eyes, admiring the way your face was lit by the glow. And in those seats, once again, he was that little guy from Brooklyn, watching a movie with his soulmate.

***

Two and a half hours later, the theater lights went up and you had forty-five minutes to kill until the next one started. You wandered down to the food court to get something to eat. 

“So what did he mean there’s no District 12?” Steve asked when you settled down at one of the tables. Shoppers walked all around, laden with paper bags full of goods. It was a kind of busy day, actually, but it was fine. You liked to peoplewatch.

“When the books came out, I had to wait a whole year to get the answer. I think you can handle the next forty minutes.”

“There are books?”

“I have them. You can borrow them. And they are even better than the movies, if you can believe that.”

“They must be pretty damn good, then.” He chuckled. “You want to shop around a bit? We’ve still got some time.”

“Oh absolutely. There’s a Lego store here.”

Steve grinned. “They have a whole store for those?”

The two of you finished eating, threw out your trash, and then walked down the hallway to the Lego Store. Steve browsed some of the boxes. There were a lot of cool things. Buildings he recognized, landmarks, things from movies he hadn’t gotten to watch yet. There were also flowers. Lots of flowers, and Van Gogh’s Starry Night. He could see himself building any number of them with you.

You were over by the minifigure bags, squishing them to feel which character was inside. Steve chuckled, but didn’t question your process. Instead, he wandered over to a rotating display of minifigure keychains. A few caught his eye, but more than anything, you did. That was, a keychain of you, in your suit, that eight-pointed star on your chest. Right next to it was him, shield and all. He chuckled and then grabbed one of each, heading towards the checkout.

By the time you caught up with him, he had already paid.

“What did you get?” you asked through your giggles.

“It’s a surprise.” He smiled, voice soft, eyes softer.

“Alright. Keep your secrets.” You chuckled.

Steve took your hand, walking back towards the theater. You got one last refill for the last two movies, got your cards punched, and headed back inside to finish off the saga.

***

At the end of the night, all the people who had been there for all four movies got a t-shirt, a Mockingjay pin, and a mini poster. Along with the tin and cups they’d given you, you’d say it was definitely worth the ticket price. You and Steve walked out to the car together and sat in the seats for a while before either of you spoke.

“Thanks for coming today, Steve.”

“Oh, any time, (Y/N). We should do it again sometime.”

“I’ll let you know if I catch wind of a Star Wars marathon.”

He grinned. “Oh please do. I’d love to see those on the big screen.”

He pulled out of the parking spot and drove off the lot. By the time you got back, almost everyone was asleep. Almost. Bucky was on the couch, watching something, volume on low. He looked up when the two of you came in the door.

“Fun time?” He asked.

“Oh, very.” You laughed kicking off your boots and setting them in your slot on the shoe shelf.

Steve plucked your keys off of your hook and, very efficiently, added his top secret Lego purchase to yours, the keychain of himself. 

“Oh my God.” You giggled, looking at it. “This is great.”

“We match.” He said, holding up his own keys, which already had the keychain of you on them.

Your heart just about melted. “We sure do. God, you’re giving my soulmate some awfully big shoes to fill, Steve.”

“Well,” he smiled, and suddenly, he was that little guy from Brooklyn again, at your height, in awe of the woman the universe had plopped directly onto his front porch. “I’m sure he’ll grow into them.”

Mr. Perfectly Fine

You had training early, almost all hands on deck. Tony was on a business trip, Thor was on Asgard. But otherwise, everyone was accounted for. Clint’s new recruit, Kate, seemed nice. She was twenty-three, fresh out of college, and really did have quite a shot. She might shape up to be a pretty good Hawkeye after all.

Scott and Hope were there as well. Hope was extremely skilled. You could tell she’d practiced for a while, knew her suit and the Pym Particles inside and out. And Scott was also there. He was nice, there was no question about that, but you could tell he still had a lot to learn about the crazy world he’d stepped into. Still, it was nice to have them around regardless.

Tony hadn’t officially inducted them to the team, and there had been no party announcing such a thing. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was waiting for someone. One more member, perhaps, before making it official.

You had been in…something of a mood since your little outing with Steve. It had been a blast, sure, but it had also been a reminder: Steve had a soulmate, in the past tense. There was a name on his wrist. And your bare wrist meant that it wasn’t you. You had a soulmate out there somewhere, human or super, whether you wanted them or not.

Steve was perfect for you. But you couldn’t have him.

And god, did it hurt.

You trained hard, hitting the punching bag that occupied what was usually Steve’s corner. He was there a lot, blowing off steam. Now you got it; it felt good to hit something. You spun, kicking the bag.

“You’re unbalanced.” Bucky piped up, walking over.

You looked up at him, watching his movements, but he didn’t mean any harm. Obviously he didn’t. He’d passed his mind-control test with flying colors. He was a free man now, and he was a lot lighter because of it.

“Am I?”

“You’ve gotta shift your weight a little, really plant that other leg.” He instructed, adjusting your body, hands gentle but firm. You could feel Steve’s eyes on you from across the room, but he didn’t come over. “Otherwise they’re gonna push you right over.”

“Well thanks. I appreciate it.” You said, giving the tip a try. “I haven’t done enough hand-to-hand.”

“We’ll get ya there. I’m surprised Steve hasn’t been working on it with you.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. Things have been weird since the Hunger Games.”

“I noticed.” Bucky chuckled. “I’ll talk to him. See what’s going on in that head of his.”

“It’s not his fault. I’ve been the weird one.”

“Oh. Need to talk about it?”

“No, I just…I need to work through some stuff.”

Working through stuff meant that after training, you went straight to your room, closed the door, and started listening to your angst playlist, spread like a starfish across your king-sized mattress. And that was how Nat found you almost an hour later.

“Knock-knock, I’m coming in.” She said, opening the door. “Hey. Why are you listening to Songs for Sad Bitches in here?”

“What? How’d you—?”

“Your playlist name is on the screen out here when you play stuff on the built-in speakers.”

“Embarrassing.”

“Happens to the best of us.” She shrugged, closing the door behind her and sitting on the bed. “So, why are we sad bitches today?”

“I can’t talk about it.”

“You can’t talk about it, or you can’t talk about it here?”

“The second of those options, yeah.”

She dangled your keys from her hand, the little tiny Captain America taunting you. “Thought so. Let’s get out of here. Kate hasn’t been to the mall yet and she needs to buy some more clothes.”

“Alright. I could go for some mall pretzels.”

So, for the second time in a week, you piled into a car and headed off towards the mall. This time, however, you were with your friends, Wanda, Nat, and Kate, not your unattainable work crush.

Wanda loved the mall. Seeing her that happy almost made your heartache go away. The four of you shopped around. You picked out a few new tops, some accessories, a cute bag, and it was a nice distraction until you passed the Lego Store. You got some pretzel bites and hunkered down in the food court with the others.

“Alright. Spill.” Nat urged.

Wanda offered a sad little smile and Kate looked up, waiting to see where this was heading. She was new to the team, which meant she was new to the drama, too.

“I don’t know, just…going out with Steve…”

“What, you don’t like him?” Nat asked, prodding.

“The opposite.”

“Then why are you all torn up about it?”

“Because I can’t have him.” You said, pushing a pretzel bite around in the cup of cheese. “He has a soulmate.”

“Had. In the forties.”

“Right, but…I turn twenty-five in what, like four months now? And then I get whoever and…I need to let him go before I get hurt, but I can’t.” You sighed. “Or before I hurt him, leading him on just to run off into the sunset with someone else…I just feel like shit about the whole situation.”

Natasha sat there with the perfect poker face, giving a sly little smile. “It’s gonna be fine. I promise. And if not, you’ve got us here to catch you.”

“What she said.” Kate agreed.

“It will be fine, (Y/N).” Wanda promised, patting your hand. “My birthday is first. Let me be the stressed one.” She let out an incredulous laugh. “I have a crush on an android.”

“Hey, if any robot has a soul, it’s gotta be Vision.” You said, eyes soft. “Obviously, he doesn’t have a mark, but, if your wrist has his name…”

“That would be enough for both of us.” Wanda agreed, nodding. “It’s weird. I know…I know he’s the one but I still have to wait. I wish if you figured it out early, the universe would just let you have it.”

Natasha looked to the rest of you, soaking in silence for a moment before taking off the cuff she wore around her wrist. “Alright, it’s been a secret long enough.”

“Woah, Nat…” You gave her a moment to back out, but she held up her wrist, letting the rest of you read the name on her wrist. Bucky. Her soulmate was Bucky. It…made a lot of sense, actually. The way he looked at her during training, the way she kept herself so guarded around him. “Does he know?”

“Unclear.” Natasha shrugged. “I, uh…Steve said he wasn’t sure. And Bucky’s memories are a little fuzzy. The Red Room tried to get rid of our marks. Said they made us liabilities. When I got out, they hadn’t found a way to do it yet. It showed up a few years after that.”

“Is that like…still around?” Kate asked. “The Red Room?”

“Unfortunately.”

The word sat on the table for a few long moments before you said, “What if we took it down?”

Something sparked in Natasha’s eyes and she met your gaze. “Elaborate.”

“I’m serious. The four of us,” you thought for a moment and then it clicked, “Hope.”

“Maria.” Natasha said, putting the pieces together herself. “I mean, that’s really all we’d need. Plus a location and a plan.”

“Oh my god, are we going on a mission?” Kate asked, lighting up at the prospect of her very first real mission.

Nat grinned. “Yeah, I think we are.”

I Can See You

Steve caught wind of Operation: Red Room before you’d so much as suited up. Of course he didn’t think it was a good idea. After your accident, he still saw you as fragile. You were fine. Your ribs were fine. They’d healed better than even Bruce had expected them to. Still, that look in his eyes said otherwise.

“I’m just not sure this is something you should be doing on your own.”

“We can’t bring you. We can’t bring Bucky. It’d be handing them two supersoldiers on a silver platter.”

“So you’re just gonna waltz in there instead?”

“Yep.” You replied, lighting a little forcefield around your fist and holding it up as evidence. “I can handle myself, remember?”

His eyes softened. “I know that.”

“Then why are you still fighting me on this? Do you seriously think Natasha would let anything happen to me? Do you think Wanda would?”

“What if they have something that disables your powers? Both of your powers.”

“If they did, they’d have used it already.”

He sighed, muscled arms crossed, pink lips pressed into a pout. “(Y/N)...”

“You’re not talking me out of this.” Not even with those pretty blues, you sneaky bastard. “Besides, it was my idea. I’m not leaving the girls hanging.”

His eyes widened. “It was your idea?”

“Well, it was a group effort, but I’m the one that put it into words, yeah.” You shrugged. “If you didn’t think I could handle being an Avenger, why did you recruit me?”

“I never said that.” His jaw clenched and he shook his head. “I just…I don’t know what I’d do with myself if something happened and I wasn’t there to stop it.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Always.”

“Then trust me to do this.” You told him, resting a hand on his chest. “And trust me to come back to you.”

He met your eyes, melting at your touch before relenting, “Okay. But be careful, alright? Promise me.”

“I promise. I always am. You guys should be here to hold down the fort anyway, in case they retaliate.”

He nodded. “Yeah, alright. I’ll be here.”

You walked down to the locker rooms and suited up, making sure everything was tugged tight, belt equipped with both real guns and stun guns. Natasha had told the rest of you there was brainwashing afoot with the Widows that were still in the Red Room. If you could help it, the goal was to get them out without hurting them. That was where Wanda came in. Her specialty.

You all loaded up into the jet, Maria Hill joining you as your getaway pilot. You hadn’t gotten the chance to work with her yet, so you were excited to. You rehashed the plan on the way. The Red Room was housed in a floating base, which was why it was so untraceable; it was always moving. 

You, Kate, and Wanda were on Widow duty. Wanda would dispel their brainwashing, and you and Kate would deal with the physical cells and deal with any guards standing in your way. Once the brainwashing was handled, Wanda would go with Nat to kill Dreykov himself, the man in charge who had escaped countless assassination attempts. This time, she wasn’t leaving anything to chance. Hope was going to shrink down and destroy the place from the inside, and once everyone was out and safe, Maria would fly you all to safety.

Ideally, anyway.

Steve saw you off, standing in the driveway as you flew off.

“Natasha wasn’t kidding. You’ve got him wrapped around your finger.” Maria chuckled.

“You could say that.”

At the moment, the Red Room was hovering over a suburb in Maine, nearing the Canadian border. Any closer and it would become an international incident. It had to be now. Maria cloaked the jet as it approached, hiding it from onlookers, obviously, but also, hopefully, from the Red Room itself. Though, their sensors were very advanced so there was no way of knowing until you got closer. That put you on edge.

So, instead, you turned to Kate. “First mission today. You ready?”

“Oh hell yeah. I’ve been waiting for this.” Kate nodded. She slung her quiver over her shoulder. “What was yours?”

“The local county fair.” You chuckled. “Though, I guess if you count my first encounter with a bad guy, it was at the mall, guy with a flamethrower and a dream. He is in jail now.”

“That is typically what happens when you dream of arson.” Natasha said, grinning. “Thank you all. For this. For coming.”

“We’ve got you, Nat. They did some pretty awful shit to you. Time to make them pay for it.”

“Speaking of, ready up, ladies. We are two minutes out.”

Power crackled in your fingertips. You were ready to go. Well, as ready as you could be.

Maria pulled up to the docking bay and the five of you got out. Hope lowered her helmet visor, saluted, and then shrunk, flying off into the vents. The other four set off in a linear path, up the winding hallways towards where they kept the Widows.

The hall was bathed in red light, dim. It set you on edge. Natasha led the way, motioning the rest of you on. You noticed as you approached each camera, it flicked off, the heads of them tilting down.

Oh right, Hope. Awesome.

You approached a series of rooms, doors all identical. They slid open when you approached, and sure enough, two dozen women came charging at you all at once, dressed in identical athleisure. Wanda waved her hands, red mist cascading down the hall, their eyes filling. It took a moment, but they all stopped, looking around at each other for some idea of what was going on.

“Natasha?” One of the voices in the crowd said, a blonde girl with wide eyes. “You came?”

Natasha nodded, smiling. “Of course I did.”

“You’re the Avengers.” The girl said, looking at the rest of you. “You’re really here.”

“Some of us. Come on, we’ve got a ship waiting.” You told her.

The girl looked at you and then back at Natasha.

“Go with her.” Natasha instructed. “I’ll be back in like five minutes. Tops.”

“What’s your name?” Kate asked, starting to lead the others back to the ship.

“I’m Yelena. Natasha’s sister.”

As you led them back down the hall, armored guards rounded the corner. You made forcefields at their feet, tripping them up. Kate shot arrows down the barrels of their weapons, causing a few small explosions. The Widows fought with you, taking out anyone that approached. Soon enough, you got to the docking bay, which exploded as soon as you approached.

You put up a shield between the rest of you and the explosion, blocking the girls from the flying debris. Okay, that put a wrench in things a little bit.

“What are we gonna do?” Kate asked, looking to you, the reflection of the flames shimmering against her skin.

“I’ve got an idea.” You said, approaching the opening carefully, wind whipping all around. Maria was still piloting the jet, doing her best to get close to the massive hole.

You made a platform with your power, curving it up at the edges, like a giant spoon. Slowly, you slid it across the gap to the jet. Maria got the hint, turning it around and opening the ramp. You made another platform and two of the Widows hopped in without hesitation. Slowly, you started the process of feeding them all across, two by two until everyone was in the jet. Everyone except you.

“Hey.” Hope said, landing and returning to full size, out of breath. “What did I miss?”

“Not too much.”

“Want a lift?”

“Why not?” You shrugged. Hope took your hand, flying you across the gap and into the ship. That just left Wanda and Nat unaccounted for.

You watched anxiously, waiting, waiting, waiting. Nothing.

“Hope, how long before this thing blows?”

“A few minutes.”

“Fuck.” You shook your head. You pressed a finger to your earpiece. “Nat, Wanda, do you copy?”

Radio silence.

“(Y/N), there they are.” Kate pointed. She really did have eagle eyes.

“I’ll get them.” Hope offered until an enemy ship opened fire.

“I’ve got it.” You said, channeling something deeper. Instead of making a bubble, you formed a tunnel of shimmering blue energy from the platform they were standing on to the back of the jet. “Hold her steady, Maria!”

“As steady as I can.”

A few explosions started at the back of the base, setting off a chain reaction. The two of them ran through the tunnel, its energy shielding them from the fire, the debris, and the rain of bullets. Wanda sped them along, until they were safe and sound, in the jet again.

Maria closed up the door as more explosions went off. You lowered your hands, letting the energy dispel. She flew off to a safe distance. The rest of you watched in awe as the Red Room fell, crumbling to bits, to ashes and ruin.

Yelena hugged Natasha, thanking her. Natasha apologized for not coming sooner. And the rest of the Widows were able to rest, breathing free for the first time in years.

***

The first stop on the docket was a SHIELD base in New York to drop off the majority of the Widows. SHIELD had a plan in place to get them back into society, integrated, rehabilitated, whatever they needed.

The second stop, of course, was Taco Bell, for refreshments.

The third stop was home, where Steve was waiting at the dinner table, chin resting against his folded hands, Bucky sitting across from him. He whipped around at the sound of the door opening. You, Kate, Wanda, Natasha, Hope, and Yelena were talking and laughing, laden with bags of fast food.

His eyes fell on yours first and it was like time stopped.

“How did it go?”

“Good. I got you a Baja Blast.” You said, setting the large cup of the teal drink in front of him.

He stared at it for a long moment before looking back up at you. “You…”

“I’m alright, Steve. We all are. And, uh, we have a new teammate.”

He finally spotted Yelena in the mix. “Oh?”

“Natasha has a sister.” You shrugged, sitting down and unpacking your order. “Apparently.”

Speaking of whom, Natasha walked up to Bucky, looked him in the eye, and said, “Barnes. Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Yeah, of course.” He nodded, following her into another room.

“Wonder what that’s about.” Steve murmured, sticking a straw into the drink he kept staring at like it was a potion you’d plucked from a fantasy realm. You supposed teal was kind of an odd color for a drink…

You smirked. “I have some idea.”

“She told you?”

“Yeah.” You shrugged. “It makes a lot of sense. The way he looks at her…”

He nodded. “Like something out of a movie.”

“Yeah, exactly.” You sighed and then shook out of it, motioning to the drink. “Alright, let me know what you think.”

He took a first sip, holding it in his mouth for a second before swallowing. The smile on his face grew. “It’s sweet.”

“Too sweet?”

“A little.” He chuckled, going in for another sip. “No, maybe…maybe I do like it.”

“Uh-huh. Think about it.” You laughed.

Yelena sat down next to you. “Is this seat taken? I’m starving.”

“Have at it.”

“Alright, well, you girls have fun. I’m headed to bed.” He held up his cup. “Thanks for the drink. Glad you’re home safe.”

“Night, Steve.”

Yelena looked at you, wonder in her eyes. As soon as he was out of earshot, she said, “Oooh, tell me everything.”

You chuckled. “Where do I even start?”

Champagne Problems

Two weeks later, you got dressed for Wanda’s twenty-fifth birthday outing. It would be just the girls, headed to a club nearby. Wanda would turn twenty-five just after midnight and she didn’t want to be in the same building with Vision if she was going to get her heart broken. It wasn’t a bad plan, all things considered.

You were wearing a black dress, knee-length, form-fitting, paired with a dark red lip, and of course, the star necklace Steve had gotten for you all those months ago. You let your fingers linger on it in your reflection before throwing on your heels and walking out to the living room to wait for the others.

Steve was on the couch, watching the Muppets Movie.

“See? I wasn’t lying about Gonzo.”

“You weren’t.” He laughed.  He opened his mouth to make a quip, but it died on his tongue when he got a good look at you, eyes softening. “You got a date tonight? You’re all dolled up.”

“Huh? No.” You laughed. “It’s girls’ night.”

“Didn’t you just have girls’ night? I believe it involved several explosives.”

“Right, well, Wanda turns twenty-five just after midnight, so we’re going out again. This time hopefully with less explosions.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “Well, ya look great.”

You blushed. “Thanks.”

“You hear about Nat and Buck?”

“It’s official.” You grinned. “I’m happy for them.”

“Me too. They’ve both been through so much. They deserve to be happy.”

“So do you, Steve.”

He tilted his head, giving you that sad smile. “I am. Promise.”

The other girls came into the living room before you had the chance to respond. Nat was hand-in-hand with Bucky, who kissed her on the cheek before releasing her and joining Steve on the couch, grinning like he’d won the lottery. In a way, he had.

“Let’s get a move on, birthday girl.” Natasha said, slinging an arm around Wanda’s shoulders. “The night is young.”

She looked back longingly where Vision was hovering in the corner of the room. “Be back soon.”

“Text me when you find out.” He said.

“I will.” She promised, eyes brimming with tears.

You took her hand in yours, giving it a comforting squeeze. She squeezed it back, meeting your eyes and offering a smile.

The five of you piled into the car. Hope wasn’t coming because she was in San Francisco for the weekend, but Yelena was. She seemed determined to experience all the life she’d missed out on thus far. You couldn’t blame her in the slightest.

The club was lively, music pulsing loudly. There were lots of birthdays being celebrated, it turned out, announced by party hats, birthday crowns and sashes, and the periodic cheers of groups of people, yelling out in excitement when their friends learned who their lives were promised to. It was kind of magical.

You ordered a drink, downing it quickly and surrendering to the fuzzy feeling at the edges of your mind. You were pretty sure the last time you’d been drunk was your induction to the team. You remembered that night with Steve, how he looked at you, how it felt. And then you ordered a second drink, dancing to the music with the girls, trying to forget your worries, even if only for the night.

A guy approached you, a look in his eye. He eyed up your bare wrist. “No soulmate?”

“Not yet. A few months too early for that.”

“Then would you mind if I swept you off your feet for the night?”

“Sorry, I…I’m here for my friend. It’s her twenty-fifth.”

He scoffed, looking you up and down before stalking off towards his next victim. “Alright. Your loss.”

“Asshole.” Yelena rolled her eyes, taking your hands and spinning you around on the dance floor. You let her, dancing along. “I do not blame you, (Y/N). If I were you, I wouldn’t settle either. Not for that.”

You laughed. “Yeah, not my thing.”

“You’ve never…?”

“Well, a little. In high school, we used to have parties where we ‘practiced’ for our soulmates. It never got any further than a little spin the bottle, though.” You confessed.

“Ah, see, I’ve had practice. But it never meant anything. Red Room, bleh.” Yelena shrugged. “I am ready for something real.”

“How long you got left?”

“Another year.”

“I’ve got three and a half months.”

“So I’ve heard. I bet you are excited, being so close to it.”

“Excited, nervous.” You laughed, shrugging. “I kinda just want to rip the Band-Aid off, get it over with.”

“I’m sure.” She motioned Kate over and she joined the two of you, dancing to the beat. “Kate Bishop, how long do you have left?”

“I’m twenty-three.”

“Ah, well, then you have lots of time to party.” Yelena grinned, spinning her around. “We should really do this more often.”

You chuckled. Yelena had only been part of your little family for a few weeks, but already you could tell she was going to be a handful in the best way.

Eventually, you wandered back over to Wanda, who was standing in the corner of the room, nursing a single glass of Vodka Cran.

“Hey, birthday girl. You doing okay?” You asked.

She nodded, irises ringed with red, as they often were when she was stressed. She blinked a few times, forcing them back to hazel. “Doing great.”

“Wanda, whoever they are, they’re so lucky to have someone like you.” You took her hand. “Now let’s go dance and forget about it for the next hour.”

She smiled. “Lead the way.”

***

In what seemed like no time at all, midnight came. Natasha ordered a bottle of champagne and each of you got a glass. Wanda sat on a barstool, staring at her wrist. From right next to her, you had a pretty good view, watching with a racing heart as a string of letters appeared, darkening into existence.

The Vision.

She burst into tears, hitting the call button on her phone. He picked up on the first ring.

“It’s you, Vis! I knew it was you!”

The rest of you gathered your things, eager to reunite them as soon as you could. Your thoughts were racing, though. You’d never really thought of it before, but…your soulmate could be someone you already knew. Someone you were already in love with.

Someone who was already in love with you.

Maybe there was some hope after all…

The Origin

Only weeks after your night in the club, you found yourself in yet another bar. This time, it wasn’t for fun, though. You, Sam, Nat, Bucky, and Steve were undercover in a quaint little tavern in Alaska. A quaint little tavern that happened to be a front for Hydra, as it were. But that didn’t mean that everyone there was Hydra, just definitely the bar tender and the security guards that kept eyeing you up. Probably a handful of the patrons, too.

In addition to that, so were the flannel-clad guys at the bar.

“Hey, little lady.” One wandered up to you, bumping your elbows. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“I’m all set with this one, thanks.” You said, taking a long sip from your drink.

“Aww, come on, just one more?” The guy on your other side egged on. “Pretty girl like you deserves to have a little fun.”

The guys around them started getting riled up, trying to convince you to have another drink. Never had you been so glad to hear Steve’s voice.

“Sorry fellas, she’s taken. Come on, sweetheart.” You felt his hand on your shoulder and let him pull you away from the fray, back to his little corner. He had been growing out a bit of a beard for this. God, did it suit him. He rested his hands on your waist, face approaching your own, nose nestled beside your cheek. “You see anything?”

“Bartender has a gun under the counter. Intense code-protected lock on the door in the backroom.” You told him, masking your words with a smile, nuzzling your nose against his.

“I’ll get to work on the door.” Bucky said over the coms. “Whatever you’re doing is working. Those guys have lost all interest.”

“Perfect.” You chuckled. “Thanks for defending my honor.”

Steve smiled and it was breathtaking, the way his eyes sparkled in the warm light. “Anytime.”

You really couldn’t help yourself. You couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol; there hadn’t even been any. It was a virgin drink. Your arm wound around his neck, pulling him in so you could kiss his cheek. His arms wrapped tight around you and he buried his face in your neck to hide his rosy cheeks, laughing.

Once again, that line between your cover and your feelings began to blur.

“Alright, I’m in.” Bucky said. “Feel free to join us whenever.”

“Coming.” Steve murmured, a hand moving the hair out of your eyes. He pressed a long kiss to your forehead, sending your heart into a frenzy before taking your hand and leading you to the backroom, where Bucky and the others were waiting.

“You were born for undercover work, (Y/N).” Natasha said, giving you a smirk and a friendly nudge.

“Yeah, I don’t know about that.” You laughed. “It’s kind of fun, though.”

The five of you walked down the tunnel. When you finally reached the main room, it was kind of dark. You lit your fist with blue energy, using it to find a lightswitch. There were several computers that flashed to life, a wall of weapons, and also, a wall of screens. There was a little electrified cell, but it was empty. No captives, as far as you could see.

You started looking around while Natasha backed up files to a hard drive. Bucky watched the entrances. Sam looked over the weapons, taking notes of the ones that were out of the ordinary. Steve stared at the screens, mesmerized by…something.

“Um, (Y/N)?” He asked, motioning you over.

You looked up at the images. They were all of you. Pictures of you in the field, diagrams of your anatomy, hospital records, your birth certificate. There were illustrations of you, and a few fields marked as unfulfilled: blood sample, soulmate information, DNA.

Beneath it was written Planet of Origin: Illustria

“What the actual fuck.” You said, voice flat, staring at the word. You’d never heard it before. Not even with the recent discoveries about space and the wider universe. Thor, your only connection to space, had never mentioned it. Yet, for some reason, Hydra had reason to believe you were connected to it.

“Company.” Bucky announced, readying his gun as a group of Hydra agents stormed down the tunnel. 

A section of the wall slid open and a scientist-looking man stepped into the space. Steve threw his shield, bouncing it off of three surfaces before it came back to him. The man made a run for it, but you lit your fists and ran after him. Steve followed after.

Once you were both through, the wall slid shut. On the other side, you could still hear the sounds of the fight. They needed you. But you needed answers. It was an impossible choice, made easier when he started talking.

“Ah, the Girl from Space and the Man Out of Time. How nice to have you both here in one place.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” You said, fists clenched, eyes glazed over with raw power, glowing like Wanda’s did.

He laughed. “You didn’t know? Your commerades didn’t tell you? Surely they must have seen the suppressor in your neck when they were running all those tests.”

Your world came crashing down. “The what?”

“Your parents paid us to put it there. Paid SHIELD, at least, but, we’ve been one in the same for a long time. Didn’t know how to handle their little alien girl, especially at her full power, on a planet that wasn’t their own. They should have known you’d outgrow it eventually.” He tsked. “Of course, I could always take it out for you.”

“You touch her, you die.” Steve said, voice as smooth as steel. It sent a chill down your spine. “I’m warning you.”

It made sense. It was like a switch had been flipped when you were in college, your powers coming from seemingly nowhere. They’d been suppressed all your life, but finally, the suppressor stopped working. You hadn’t even known it was there. Maybe that was why you’d been stopped at so many airports.

“Not to worry Captain, I was on my way out of here anyway.” He raised his hands and started walking towards an exit tunnel.

You raised yours, making a cuff of energy around his wrist, holding him in place.

“No, you get to answer to SHIELD.” You told him. “And then you get to answer to me.”

Steve used his shield to knock the guy out with one quick, precise throw. The door behind the two of you slid open, Natasha pushing it open. There were downed Hydra agents all over the floor behind her.

“Having a party without us?”

“Something like that.” You mumbled, heart still racing.

“I got the files, (Y/N).” She said, playful demeanor falling immediately. “We’ll figure it out.”

Steve lugged the scientist over his shoulders, handing him off to the SHIELD agents who had come to help, one of whom happened to be one of the guys who was hitting on you at the bar. Go figure. Bucky and Sam joined the three of you. Sam put a hand on your shoulder and offered a supportive smile.

You still felt numb.

***

You got back to the safehouse and the snow outside doubled, coming down in droves, thick snowflakes and heavy winds. It was safe to say you would not be making it back to the Compound tonight.

You changed out of your bulletproof gear and into a tank top and sweats, running a hand through your hair. You met your eyes in the reflection, noticing how they flickered blue. In the other room, you could hear the video call finally go through with Tony and Bruce, who were back home.

“Oh don’t give me that look, Rogers.”

“Well, can you blame me?”

“What, like you’ve never kept a secret ever in your life, give me a break!”

“About her life, Tony!”

“I’ll get her.” You heard Natasha tell him, and then heard her footsteps approaching the bathroom door. She knocked. “Hey, they’re on. I made you some cocoa.”

You opened the door, letting out a sigh and nodding. “Thanks, Nat.”

She smiled, patting your shoulder and leading you out to the couch. Tony and Bruce were sitting in the living room on the screen. Steve had been pacing, obviously, given his stance and the fact that he was still standing.

You sat down, making eye contact with each of them, lips pressed into a flat line. Your heart raced, chest aching, stomach on fire from the adrenaline of it all. “So?”

Tony sighed. “You’re an alien.”

“Half.” Bruce amended. “On your mother’s side. She’s from a planet called Illustria.”

“Uh-huh, yeah. I got that part. How long have you known?”

Bruce looked at Tony, hoping he’d deliver that part of the news. He did. “I’ve known since you were recruited. Fury did a background check. You were already on the files.”

“What about the suppressor?”

“We didn’t know what it was. We didn’t know what taking it out would do to you.” Bruce admitted. “We thought you knew it was there.”

“I want it out.” You said with certainty. “I want it out as soon as we get home.”

“Are you sure?” Bruce asked.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life. I want to know who I am. That starts with knowing what I’m actually capable of.” You sighed. “And call Thor. I have questions I need answered. His alien friends might know.”

“Anything else?” Tony asked.

“Who else knew.” It wasn’t a question, it was a demand.

“Just me and Fury,” he said, but you couldn’t tell if he was lying or not.

“And Hydra.” You snapped. “What, are you afraid of me? Had to keep a lid on my powers because you’re so fucking obsessed with control?”

Tony scoffed. Clearly, you’d struck a nerve. “That’s not it.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know how you would take it.”

“Okay well, I think I would have been okay hearing it from a friend, in a place I felt safe. I had to hear about it from Hydra. They had a fucking cell with my name on it.” You said, trembling as you remembered it, tucked away in the corner there. That was the only explanation for it, really. And then something else clicked, too. “That…that day when Steve got tranq’ed. They weren’t trying to hit him, they were trying to hit me. He jumped in the way. They’ve…been trying to take me this entire time.”

“Oh my god, Tony…” Natasha said, voice quiet.

“Get those files to me, Nat. I’ll take a look. See if they have anything on the suppressor so I can take it out when you get back.” Bruce said, eyes soft. “And I’m sorry, for the record.”

“It’s not you I’m mad at.”

“Kid, please don’t—”

You cut Tony off with a click of the remote, hanging up the call. You let out a shaking sigh, setting the remote down. Your fingers were trembling. You took a few breaths, lungs heaving. You wanted to scream. You needed to let it out.

Everyone else on the team knew why they were there. Every other person in your life knew what made them special. Wanda’s power came from the Mind Stone, Steve’s came from the Serum, Tony’s came from his massive fucking ego. They all got the privilege of their origin story.

All of them except for you.

You needed to call your parents, if you even could. They’d told you they were moving to Florida. Now you wondered if they’d moved off the planet.

“You gonna be okay?” Sam asked, eyes trailing you as you paced through the room towards the door.

“Nope.” You walked out to the other den, burying your face in your arms, sobbing for a few minutes until you got it all out, or most of it anyway. Eight months. Eight fucking months he’d known you and didn’t think to tell you.

The chip in your shoulder burned.

You began to seriously wonder if anyone else had known. Bruce had run all those tests, surely he had seen something. He’d told you there were abnormalities, but he’d assumed they were from your powers, not the cause of them.

Steve crossed your mind briefly, but you shot that down pretty quick. He, of all people, would never keep a secret like that from you. You knew him well enough to know that.

Aside from that, the only real suspect you had was Vision. He had been JARVIS once, surely he still had some of that database in his mind. You’d give him the benefit of the doubt. For now.

“Hey.” Even before you looked up, you could tell Steve would be leaning in the doorway, that lovelorn look on his face. You were right, obviously.

Tears welled in your eyes. “Steve.”

He crossed the room, collecting you in his arms, hands rubbing comforting circles on your back. You surrendered to him, crying into the fabric of his crewneck, face tucked into the crook of his neck. One of his hands cradled your head, smoothing over your hair comfortingly.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” He rumbled, voice deep and soothing. “I would have told you.”

“I know you would.” You sniffled, gripping him like a lifeline, your anchor in the storm. You pulled away to meet his eyes. “I feel so stupid for crying about it.”

He shook his head. “It’s not stupid. I would, too.”

“Like it’s fine. Aliens are cool. T-Thor is cool.” You sniffled again, more tears running down your cheeks. “I’m fine with being one, I just…”

“You’re still (Y/N).” He asserted, a gentle thumb wiping your tears away. “You’ve always been able to do these amazing, beautiful things. Now we know why. And maybe there’ll be even more things you can do with that thing out of your neck.”

“Yeah…” You nodded. You took a deep breath. “I’m really glad you’re here, Steve. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t.”

He pulled you back into his arms to hide the look on his face. “I’ve got you. Always. We’ll figure it out.”

***

Hours later, you were curled up on the couch, asleep. Despite the fireplace raging with fresh-chopped wood, you were still shivering, pulling the blankets around yourself as tight as you could.

Steve watched you from the dining table, forlorn. Natasha nudged him, motioning towards you. He shook his head. He couldn’t. Right? What, take advantage of you in your vulnerable state?

Bucky seemed to agree with Nat, grinning into his mug of coffee. Of course they agreed. They were soulmates, after all. Just like you and Steve. 

The mark on his wrist seemed to thrum when he thought about it.

Relenting, Steve got up off of his seat, walked towards the fireplace and adjusted the logs, adding another small one for good measure. He looked back at the others, who were silently, but aggressively, encouraging him to go over to you. Sighing, he did.

He knelt down in front of you, clearing his throat, which caused you to jolt awake.

“Is everything okay? Are we under attack?”

Steve chuckled. “No, uh, we’re all good. Are you cold? You’re shivering.”

“Kind of, yeah.” You admitted. “I’ll be okay, though, I promise. I’ve always been kind of cold. Must be an alien thing…”

“Do you…want some company?” He asked, unsure of how to word it. “I…run warm.”

“Do you mind?” You asked, sitting up a little and raising the blankets you were under.

His heart raced. “Here, um…” He wiggled in underneath you, letting you lead as the two of you settled.

“God, you do run warm.” You hummed, all but collapsing against him, a hand flat against his chest while you adjusted.

“I didn’t always.” He said, voice sincere. “Buck and I used to have to share a bed in the winter. It was brutal.”

“Sounds like it.”

“Yeah, he snores.” Steve joked, earning a laugh.

“Oh I know. I can hear him three doors down back home.”

“And I can hear you from the other room!” Bucky called, sending you and Steve into a fit of giggles, like kids at a sleepover. “It’s a small cabin!”

You heard him and Sam devolve into a bickering match about the truth of whether or not Bucky actually snored that loud.

You looked up at Steve, asking “is it okay if I put my arm here?” while carefully draping an arm across him.

“Yeah, of course. Get comfortable.” He nodded, leaning against the pillows and pulling the blanket up around your shoulders.

You rested your head on his firm chest, listening to the way his heart was racing. Cute.

“We could, uh, put on some music if you want.” Steve suggested. “I’ve still got that playlist on my phone.”

“Which one’s your favorite?” You asked, voice soft, curious.

“Timeless.”

“I thought it would be.” You smiled, meeting his eyes, which sparkled in the light of the fire. “You’re so timeless, Steve Rogers.”

He grinned. “You think so? You don’t think I’m a fossil like everyone else?” he said, quoting Natasha and Tony and many others who equated him to some dinosaur because of his accident.

“Not even close.” You shook your head and sighed. “This might be the wrong thing to say, but…I’m really glad you’re here. Your life could have looked a lot different, but I’m really glad you ended up in mine.”

It took every ounce of his being to hold in his tears when you said it. If he could have confessed then and there, he would have. He would have kissed you square on the lips, told you he loved you, that he always had, that you weren’t some accident, you were his destiny. Always had been.

Instead, he had to settle for, “I’m getting used to it, but I am, too. I’m really glad I found you that day, (Y/N).”

“Me too.” You smiled, readjusting your cheek against his chest, letting out a long breath. “Goodnight, Steve.”

“Night.”

His warmth lulled you to sleep after a long, emotional day. Never had you felt so safe and protected. It was easy to feel that way in the arms of a supersoldier, you supposed, thoughts meandering until there weren’t any left. You were asleep in minutes, breaths slow and long and even.

Once he was absolutely sure you were out, Steve pressed the gentlest kiss to your forehead, grateful beyond words to have you in his arms again, grateful you were safe, grateful you were his.

Even if you didn’t know it yet.

***

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the sliver of a gap in the curtains, right into your eyes. You blinked a few times, trying to figure out why the mattress was moving. And then you remembered. Steve.

The supersoldier was still asleep, breaths long and slow, those thick, gorgeous eyelashes resting against his sharp cheekbones, lips impossibly pink. His muscled arm wrapped tight around your waist, the other settled on the couch.

Your eyes wandered to the band on his wrist. It was out of place slightly, the edge almost crooked enough to read the letters etched onto his skin. Almost.

There was a part of you that was tempted to look. To nudge it aside the tiniest bit, say it was an accident, and finally know who it was that had been holding his heart in their hands for the last seventy or so years.

But you couldn’t do that to him. He trusted you enough to hold you while he slept, while he was the most vulnerable. You respected him too much to do that. So instead, you adjusted slightly, closing your eyes again.

“(Y/N).” Natasha said from the doorway of the kitchen.

“Hmm?” You replied, eyes opening again.

She eyed up the two of you, grinning. “Cute.”

You chuckled. “Thanks.”

“Got those files sent to Bruce. He doesn’t think it’ll be a problem getting that thing out of you. Won’t even have to put you under.”

“Cool.” You nodded. “Is it…like right between my neck and my shoulder? On the right side?”

“That’s where it is on the diagrams, yeah.”

“Okay. Thought so. I get pain there sometimes.”

“During training?”

“Yeah. I didn’t think it was anything serious. Thought it was like a pulled muscle or a pinched nerve or something.”

“You never said anything.” Steve murmured, blinking awake. “You were in pain that whole time?”

“No. It comes and goes. Mostly when I try out new stuff.” You said, still planted on his chest, looking up at him.

He smiled. “Morning.”

“Morning. How’d you sleep?”

“Really well, actually. How did you sleep?”

“Like a fucking rock.” You grinned. “You weren’t kidding about running warm. Thanks for sharing.”

“Anytime.”

“Let’s get a move on, team.” Sam said, walking out from the bedrooms down the hall, Bucky not far behind him, looking tired.

You reluctantly left the warmth of your shared cocoon, sitting up and stretching, brushing your fingers through your tangled hair. “Alright, let’s go get this thing out of me.”

Show Yourself

“Alright, so, this might hurt a bit. Are you ready?” Bruce warned. You were laid out on a table on your stomach, a curled pillow beneath your head. It was a bit like a massage, except Bruce had made an incision at the base of your neck where your suppressor was implanted. He’d given you some numbing gel and pain meds, though, so you didn’t feel much.

On the other side of the observation window, Steve was standing with Natasha, his arms crossed, eyes focused. Tony wasn’t allowed even in there, which pissed him off. He’d tried to get on your good side when you’d gotten home and you blew him off completely, which, Steve had to admit, was amusing.

And Tony definitely deserved it.

“I’m good. Go for it.”

Carefully, Bruce used his tools to wiggle it free from your flesh, setting off a chain reaction in your body. The wave of relief you felt was almost enough to put you to sleep, a refreshing, cool sensation rushing from your head to your toes. Power crackled between your fingers, and you could feel your eyes glowing for a moment, despite the fact that you couldn’t see your reflection.

Bruce moved to stitch you up, but your body did the work for him, mending back together on its own before his very eyes. He adjusted his glasses, sure he was seeing things. But no, the wound was healed, just leaving a little dried blood on your skin, which he wiped off with a wet piece of gauze.

“Woahhh.” You murmured, coming out of the trance. You blinked a few times and it felt like waking up from a college nap, the kind you don’t set an alarm for and then come out of in a stupor.

“You feel okay?”

“Yeah, I’m great.” You nodded. “Are you done? Did you stitch it up?”

“I…didn’t have to.” He murmured, still staring at the spot. He handed you the shirt you’d brought in and you tugged it over your head, staring at your arms, your hands. You didn’t look any different, but it was like every atom in your body was electrified.

It felt right.

Bruce opened the door and Steve and Natasha walked in, watching your every move.

“Wow.” Natasha said, grinning. “You look…”

“The same, but…more you.” Steve met your eyes, offering you his hand. 

You took it, letting him help you stand. Even his touch felt different now. Better. You settled, adjusting. It felt different, like even the gravity itself had changed. It would take some getting used to.

“I need to hit the training room.” You said with an excited grin. “You two are welcome to join me.”

“Can I watch? I want to take notes.” Bruce said. “From the observation booth, of course.”

“Oh yeah, by all means.” You nodded, leading the others down the hallway. A few others tagged along, Yelena, Kate, Wanda, who were all curious to see what you were capable of now, and just how much Tony’s lies had been holding you back. Sam and Bucky were already there and smiled when they saw you coming, Steve and the others in tow.

They cleared out some room, letting you have the space you needed. You stretched and then got to work.

First, you made a few forcefields. They still had that shimmer, like sunlight in a swimming pool, but they were twice as thick as they had been before. Steve couldn’t break them with his super-strength anymore.

You had more control over your waypoints and your portals, which, the more you used them, were becoming two different things. The waypoints, your stars, were a quick zip from point A to point B. Your portals, however, were more like a window that you could open and close, and took on more of a circular shape.

You were stronger, too. Nowhere near as strong as Bucky or Steve, but twice as strong as you’d been before, faster.

And then came the other thing. If you focused hard enough, and focused on the floaty, tingly feeling in your chest, your body started to glow around the edges, and at long last, your feet rose from the floor.

“Oh my god…” You murmured, lifting yourself from the tile ground. At first, it was hard to control, but you quickly figured out how to get from point to point, and how to hover in the middle.

Steve stared up at you as you hovered, fists lit with power, hair floating in the breeze you’d created. It was like watching the birth of a star, powerful and beautiful and otherworldly.

For the first time since 1943, he knew in his soul that he had to paint you, exactly like this. He memorized the moment in his mind, every detail from the streak of sunlight on your chest to the misplaced strand of hair on your forehead, the exact hue of your glowing irises.

“A picture might last longer.” Natasha teased under her breath, watching as you touched down.

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.” Steve replied, already picking out a color palette in his head.

“Holy shit…” You breathed, the glow dissipating as you returned to normal. “What a rush.”

“Welcome to the fly club, kid.” Sam said, patting you on the back.

“Thanks.” You grinned. “You’ll have to give me some pointers sometime.”

“Oh, anytime.” Sam walked over to Steve with you. “You see her up there? She’s like Superman.”

“I saw.” Steve agreed, arms crossed. “I think this calls for celebration, huh?”

“What did you have in mind, Cap?” You asked.

“Baja Blast?” He suggested, earning a laugh and a friendly shove.

“So you did like it?”

“It’s growin’ on me.” Steve admitted, that sly smile spreading. “Come on, my treat.”

“Oh I’m in.” You agreed. “Let me just take these monitors off.”

You turned in Bruce’s software, all of the vital-measuring instruments, cuffs and little sensors hooked to your arms and legs and chest.

“So, give it to me straight, doc. Am I stable?”

“Yeah, everything looks great. Vitals are great, heartrate is fine, if not a little elevated, but I’d assume that’s just from the adrenaline.” Bruce noted, looking at the numbers and charts on the screen in front of him. “If you feel weird, let me know and I can check things over, do some scans, but otherwise, it seems…you’re doing better than you were before, actually.”

“Alright, good to know.” You said, trying not to let his words hurt you. 

It was good news, it really was, but you could have felt this way for eight months, not two hours. You were thinking faster, processing things at better speeds. Hell, it even felt like you were breathing easier. Whatever that thing was that had been inside you, it had been sapping your health for your entire life. And now, you finally knew what it was like to be at a hundred percent instead of eighty.

Fuck Tony.

***

Steve drove the two of you through the nearest Taco Bell drive-thru to get snacks for yourselves and the rest of the team.

You ordered your regular, your Baja Blast, and everything the others had requested, running it on one of the team cards Tony had given you all. On the drive back, Steve had a question you didn’t really expect.

“Where do people shop for art supplies these days?”

“Jo Ann’s or Michael’s. They have a little bit of everything. Fabric, yarn, paint, beads, basically everything you could need. Why, you got a DIY project planned?”

“Something like that, yeah.” He grinned. “I don’t do much shopping, so I didn’t know where to start.”

“We should go sometime. I was running low on yarn.” You said, taking a sip of your Baja Blast.

“Make anything cool lately?”

“I’m working on a sunflower cardigan for Wanda.”

“Oh she’ll love that.”

“Yeah, she’s the one who sent me the pattern.” You chuckled. “It’s gonna look really cute on her.”

The two of you got back a few minutes later, a drove of hungry superheroes descending upon the paper bags you were carrying almost instantly. It was a welcome sight, a full table of laughing people. Your family. You felt a little different now, but nothing had changed. Not really. They still liked you, still smiled at you, joked with you, laughed with you.

So then why had Tony felt the need to hide it for so long?

***

Days later, Steve walked down the paint aisle of the craft store, picking out some brushes, some canvas, paints. He found the perfect one for your eyes, another hue for your forcefields. The amount of time he spent looking at you made it easy.

He smiled to himself. The little guy from Brooklyn would be proud of him, getting back into art beyond the sketches he did from time to time. It reminded him, though, that he needed to swing back to that antique shop and finally pick up the painting that had been waiting for him for so long.

Surely, he could keep it hidden until your big day.

Happiest Place on Earth

Being an Avenger often brought along unexpected adventures and opportunities. Today, that adventure was a theme park. Apparently, Disneyland was putting in a whole section in homage to the Avengers and Tony wanted you all to be there.

And though the two of you weren’t on the best terms at the moment, who were you to fight a free vacation?

You and Wanda helped pick out each others’ outfits for your day off following the grand opening. But today, you were wandering the park in uniform, side by side with Captain America himself, as you walked side by side down the street in the parade.

They’d tried to teach you all to do a little dance as you walked. The only one even attempting it was Scott, who was absolutely thrilled to be there. Supposedly, his daughter Cassie would be there to see him, too. You hadn’t met her yet, but Scott loved her to the moon and back. With him as a dad, she’d have to turn out pretty cool.

“Waypoint,” Steve said, motioning you over to see a little girl dressed not as a princess, but as you, your star shining proudly on her chest.

“Hey there, superstar.” You smiled, giving her a high-five. “You look great!”

“I want to be a hero just like you someday!” She said, her voice impossibly small. Impossibly innocent. It was a cute moment, but you couldn’t help but hope she’d never have to be. That someday, you and the rest of the team would get the world to a place where superheroes weren’t needed, where there was just peace. Where people with powers could simply be like everyone else.

“You already are, hon.” You told her, posing for a picture as her mom held up her phone.

You continued along the parade route and saw a couple. The guy was wearing a Captain America hoodie, the girl was wearing a Waypoint shirt. You wondered if Steve noticed, but didn’t have to ask when you saw his eyes lingering there, his mask all but hiding the faint blush on his cheeks.

A few teenage girls stopped you and you signed their autograph books, throwing something together. Despite your time on the team, there had never really been a time you’d been stopped for them. It was an odd feeling, being famous for something like this.

Steve signed with confidence, though. Sometimes you forgot that before he actually got to go out in the field and make a difference, he’d done a stint as a celebrity, touring the country to sell war bonds.

Someday, you’d bribe him enough to show you the videos, if he hadn’t already burnt all of them first.

“Are you excited for your birthday?” One asked. “I heard your twenty-fifth is coming up.”

“Oh! Yeah! I mean, I guess I’m more anxious than anything. It’s the big one.”

“You’re going to have every twenty-four year old in the country on the edge of their seat waiting to find out if they’re the one.” Another joked. 

You laughed along. “Yeah, I guess it’s coming whether I want it to or not.”

You were near the end of the route, so it wasn’t long after that you were off the hook to walk around a bit, get something to eat.

Steve turned to you, trying to sound casual when he asked, “You don’t want your birthday to come?”

“I mean, yeah.” You shrugged. “I���m not entirely set on the idea of pledging myself to some stranger for the rest of my life.”

“It’s not always a stranger.” Steve said. “Maybe you already know them.”

“That’s true. That would be…I mean, it would be better, sure, but…I’m pretty sure the only person I want it to be already has someone else.” You couldn’t meet his eyes when you said it, afraid of the answer, one way or the other, whether he finally said it outright, or if those pretty blue eyes said it for him.

You couldn’t handle the heartbreak.

“Wait—”

“(Y/N), we have time to hop on Pirates of the Caribbean.” Wanda said, swooping in to save you. She was really good at that. She took your hand and the two of you ran off in the direction of the ride.

Natasha walked up behind Steve, hand in hand with Bucky, who was nibbling on a churro. Obviously, they had heard the exchange.

“Fuck.” Steve muttered, shaking his head. “Well, great.”

“What’s going on, soldier?” Natasha asked.

“She’s gonna be so pissed when she finds out it’s me.” Steve said, voice small, as he watched you walk away. He waited for you to glance back at him. You didn’t.

“What are you talking about? Steve, she’s liked you for months. She listened to Songs for Sad Bitches when she thought she couldn’t have you.” Natasha reasoned. “Feelings like that don’t just go away.”

Bucky chimed, “Are we forgetting the night at the cabin?”

“That was three months ago.” Steve said, staring at his shoes. “I…I’ve been keeping it from her this entire time, hiding it from her, letting her feel like shit and stress herself out over it. I shouldn’t have gotten so close in the first place, but…I just can’t keep myself away from her. She looks at me with those eyes and I just…crumble.”

“I hear ya, pal.” Bucky said, patting his arm. “But you remember the look in her eyes at the bar that night? You remember the things she said to you? That (Y/N) is still a month away. She still has feelings for you. She still loves you, and she’s…she’s even excited to see the little guy.”

“She loved the little guy.” Steve agreed, smiling softly, remembering the look on your face when he’d found you, laying on his porch, the tenderness with which you’d whispered his name. In a world that constantly looked down on him, figuratively and literally, you were the first person aside from Bucky that made him feel loved, like he had something waiting for him.

Steve let out a long breath, nodding. Bucky was right. Back in the forties, he’d been the level-headed voice of reason, getting Steve out of the trouble his big mouth got him into. Even in the twenty-first century, he was still doing his damage control. In a way, he had missed it.

“Alright, now I know I missed some chapters.” Sam was on Steve’s other side, holding an ice cream sandwich, eyes wide. “When exactly were you going to tell me your soulmate is on the team?”

Steve chuckled. “Surprise?”

“Welcome to the inner circle, Sam. We’ve been waiting for you.” Natasha joked, wearing a grin.

“I mean, it explains a hell of a lot. Here I was thinking she was like…the grandkid of one of your old war buddies or something.”

“That’s what I thought!” Natasha agreed. She and Bucky finally filled Sam in on everything he’d missed over the past several months.

Steve’s eyes wandered back to that couple, dressed as him and you. They were holding hands, walking down the pathway, laughing, talking. They stopped for a selfie together in front of the Avengers Campus sign, which inevitably devolved into a kiss.

And in his head, he replaced them with him and you, carefree and in love in the happiest place on earth.

You’re On Your Own, Kid

Maybe, if you lied very still, you could convince the universe no time was passing at all. You were staring at the ceiling, flat on your back, the weight of the world resting flat against your entire body. No, against your soul, weighing you down.

Tomorrow was your birthday and you were not ready. Not in the slightest.

You let out a loud groan, forcing yourself to get up, to get dressed. You chucked your pajamas in your hamper, throwing on some joggers and a t-shirt, the old Star Wars tee you’d had since high school. It was a simple one, black with stars scattered across the fabric, the yellow logo emblazoned across the front.

There was a knock on your door.

“It’s open.” You called, not turning around to see who it was. You put on your star necklace, the one Steve had given you almost an entire year before. You tucked it under the fabric of the shirt.

“Morning. How’d you sleep?” Steve asked, leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes searching.

“Not well.” You sighed, turning to look at him.

“I didn’t either when mine was coming. I swear I didn’t get any sleep for a week.” He said, eyes soft. “I, um, got breakfast. It’s in the kitchen. Those breakfast sandwiches you like.”

Your lips curled into a tired smile. “Thanks. That’s really sweet.”

“Of course. Whatever you want today, just say the word.”

You crossed the room, walking right up to him and straight into his arms. He held you to him, read resting against yours. For a moment, he questioned if it had already happened, if he’d gotten the days mixed up.

If you already knew.

“I just need you to hold me.” You whispered, holding in tears. You should have been excited. It should have felt like Christmas Eve. You should have been absolutely buzzing with excitement for the day to come.

But you weren’t ready to let him go, for everything about your relationship to change. You needed more time.

“I can do that.” He said softly, thumbs etching circles into your shoulders. “As long as you need me to. I’ve got you. Always.”

“Okay.” You whispered, voice breaking. The tears finally slipping down your cheeks. It was all you could say to keep yourself from saying ‘I love you.’

You ate breakfast with the others. Natasha could tell you had been crying, so after, she took you, Wanda, Kate, and Yelena out of the house. It was a welcome distraction. The mall was the perfect spot. It always was. 

“What about this one?” Wanda held another dress against you, imagining you in it for your birthday party the following night. Steve had taken it upon himself to be the entire planning committee, which was why he was back at the Compound with the boys, getting things in order. The only thing he wanted to have to worry about tomorrow was the party itself.

“Does it come in blue?” You asked, eyeing up the rack she’d pulled it off of.

“It does.” She smiled, putting the red one back in exchange for blue. It was sparkling, form-fitting, a little less formal than the one you’d worn to your Avengers induction, but it had the same vibe, just shorter and with a deeper neckline.

“Perfect.” You said, turning towards the dressing room. You handed Wanda your purse and slipped into it. It fit perfectly in all the right places. You did a little turn in the mirror, satisfied, and then walked out into the store again, where Natasha was nodding in approval.

“Alright, dress acquired, where to next?” Kate asked, checking the list she was keeping on her phone.

“I heard there is a Lego store here.” Yelena said absentmindedly, glancing out the door. “We should go.”

“Is that where you got Steve’s Millennium Falcon?” Natasha asked.

“Steve has a Millennium Falcon???” Yelena asked, eyes wide. “I want one.”

“I got it online. It was on sale.”

“I didn’t know Steve liked Star Wars.” Kate noted as you walked back into the dressing room to change back into your Star Wars shirt, ironically enough.

“Loves it. He’s a big nerd. Bucky, too. Buck’s more of a fantasy nerd, though. He’s super into Lord of the Rings.” You could hear the grin in Natasha’s voice when she said it.

“Steve said it was the first thing he watched out of the ice. Star Wars, that is. I don’t know if he’s seen Lord of the Rings yet.” You added. “And he’s talked about going to the Stark Expo back in the day. Vintage nerd.”

“Nice.”

Once you’d paid for the dress, you moved on to the Lego Store, where Yelena just about ran to the Millennium Falcon set to see it for herself.

“Lego typewriter.” Natasha noted, pointed at it. “Speaking of vintage nerd.”

“Oh I’m sure he’d get a kick out of that.” You laughed. Depending on how things settled after your soulmate bomb dropped, maybe you’d come back and get it for him. At the very least, you were pretty sure you’d still be friends after it all. And friends built Lego sets together.

“Hey, wait, there are Legos of us?” Kate asked, eyeing up the display where Steve had, you assumed, gotten your matching keychains. “This is news to me.”

“Let me see.” Yelena walked over and gasped, eyes falling on her Lego self.

Wanda smiled softly, head tilting as she looked at you. She rested her hand on your shoulder.

“It will be fine. To quote someone I care about very deeply: whoever they are, they are lucky to have you. Now, let’s forget about it for a bit.”

“Alright.” You agreed, letting her lead you over to the Build-a-Figure station, where you started mixing and matching the pieces. It was hard, but you let your worries melt away, at least for a little while.

***

Meanwhile, Steve was walking around the Compound with a clipboard, making sure everything was ready for the next day. Scott and the ants were helping put up the decorations. He’d sent Sam and Bucky to pick up the cake, and Tony had taken it upon himself to take care of the catering. A peace offering of sorts.

Steve was putting together the playlist for the party himself, hand-picking songs you liked, recommendations from Nat and Wanda, songs from Taylor Swift’s discography, and then, finally, a special song he’d been saving. 

Steve liked to listen to his records in the privacy of his room, away from the ears of members of the team who would tease him for it. They were forties jazz mostly, made the place feel a little more like home, especially when you weren’t around. But there was a song that he would soon share with you, as soon as tomorrow came. He hesitated to add it, but eventually, he pressed his thumb to the song, adding it to the playlist.

He closed his eyes, remembering that moment. The last song of the night before Val’s closed. It was one of the last times he had gone there.

“We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when…” The singer’s voice had floated across the room, words striking him to his core. He got chills, opening his eyes again. God, he couldn’t wait for you to know. Sure, he was a supersoldier, but he was pretty sure the weight of his secret was finally crushing him.

***

You retreated to your room when you and the girls got home. It was kind of late. You’d decided to catch a movie while you were out. You didn’t mind. You were beyond ready to go to sleep and just…get it over with.

Off with the Band-Aid.

“Where’s (Y/N)?” Steve asked, finding Natasha and Kate in the dining room.

“She went to her room for the night.” Kate replied innocently.

“Alright.” He nodded. “How was she doing?”

“Not great.” Yelena said, already into the box of the Lego set she’d settled on. “I mean, she’s like fine. Just…kinda sad.”

“Quiet.” Wanda agreed. Vision had his arm around her.

“Okay, well…” Steve put his hands on his hips, thinking. What was the harm in telling them now? Warning the rest of them what they’d be waking up to tomorrow. “Vision, can you round up the others?”

“Of course.” Vision nodded. “To be clear, I am to leave out (Y/N)?”

“Yeah. Yeah, everyone but (Y/N).” Steve confirmed, leading the others upstairs to one of the lounges. He sat on the couch, mouth resting against his hands, elbows on his knees. Tony sauntered in, followed by Bruce. The rest of the team filed in one by one, finding seats, staring at Steve, waiting for answers.

“So, um, thanks for coming everyone.” Steve said, meeting their eyes.

“Uh, Cap, we’re missing (Y/N).” Clint said, looking around.

“That’s the idea.” Natasha replied.

“Is this a party planning meeting? Do the decorations look okay? I really thought the ants did a good job.” Scott said.

“They did a great job.” Steve reassured him, taking a moment to collect his words. “So, as you all know, tomorrow is (Y/N)’s twenty-fifth birthday. And…I need to finally come clean. I’m her soulmate.”

“Okay, now that I did not know.” Tony said, meeting Steve’s eyes. “Your long lost love is one of our housemates?”

“Tony.” Nat shot him a look.

“No, I’m serious. I’m just…I’m relieved is all.” Tony admitted with a sigh. “I…the reason I didn’t tell her is because I didn’t know if Illustrians…I didn’t know if she’d have one. I figured…” He shook his head, staring at the floor. “I didn’t want to bring her down when it was so close.”

Steve took off the cuff on his wrist, finally finally showing him the mark that had been there since his twenty-fifth birthday in 1943. Your name, written in your neat, careful handwriting, first, middle, and last.

“Why not tell her, then?” Kate asked. “Why haven’t you told her?”

“That’s a little more complicated.” Steve thought. “When I turned twenty-five…she was there. In a few hours, when she goes to sleep, she’s headed to the forties to see…well, me, before the serum. I don’t know how or why, but…when she got there, she didn’t know. I didn’t want to risk changing anything. Butterfly effect and all that.”

“Time travel?” Bruce asked, eyes bugging out of his head. “You are just casually telling us that time travel exists.”

“I guess so.”

“Woah. Bruce. We’ve got some tests to run.” Tony said.

“Oh I am already taking notes in my head.”

The meeting ended shortly after that. The rest of the team gave him supportive words and smiles, but Tony’s were the most poignant. 

“I don’t know what you’re still doing here, Rogers. Go see her off.”

“Right. Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good luck, Steve.”

“Thanks, Tony.”

***

You closed the door after Steve left, listening to his footsteps retreat down the hall, steady and even. You let another tear roll down your cheek. All of the crying was exhausting. You just wanted to be done with it.

You sat on the bed, taking off your bra and chucking it across the room, laying back to relax and, hopefully, get some sleep.

The exhaustion must have been helping, because as soon as you closed your eyes, you felt the drifting start. It was strong and immediate, pulling you down through the mattress. You felt like you were floating and falling at the same time, limbs tingling. Your eyes shot open when you realized what was happening, but it was already too late.

And then everything went white.

Right Where You Left Me

In 1943, you walked hand in hand with your soulmate down the sidewalk, through Steve’s favorite park. It happened to be a shortcut between his favorite diner and the local theater. He liked to sit there sometimes, sketch couples walking by. Never had he imagined he’d be one of the couples someday.

For the past week, he’d about worried himself sick. He’d barely slept, he’d had no appetite, he’d had the worst art block of his life. Every time he fell asleep, he had dreams of finding his soulmate, only for them to be some pretty but shallow girl who didn’t want anything to do with him. He had nightmares of a grayed out mark like Bucky’s, or worse, no mark at all. Which is why when he’d run out that morning to get the mail, he hadn’t even checked yet.

Part of him didn’t want to.

And then he’d found you out there, laying under the mailbox.

And now, he was holding your hand. 

You caught his eyes, grinning. He smiled back, heart racing. Gosh, maybe he needed to sit down.

“Hey, could we sit for a minute?” He asked, motioning to the bench beside the path and trying his best not to sound out of breath.

“Yeah, of course.” You agreed, following him and sitting down beside him, hand still clasped tight in yours. “Do you have an inhaler?”

“What’s an inhaler?”

“Shit, right, they probably haven’t been invented yet…” You murmured, pulling your lip between your teeth. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

“You…know about the asthma.” He realized.

You nodded. “I know about all of it, Steve.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “And you’re still looking at me with those eyes?”

“What eyes?” You tilted your head, innocent. “There’s no one else I’d rather be looking at, Steve. Just you.”

“Okay, now I know you’re not real.”

“Am I gonna have to spend all day convincing you I am?”

“You just might.”

You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek, leaving a reddish mark there. “Oops. Sorry, let me—”

Steve grabbed your hand, stopping you from wiping it away. “Leave it. Bucky comes home covered in ‘em all the time. I’ve never gotten one before.”

“I am going to cover you in lipstick marks by the end of today.”

He grinned, finally standing up to keep moving. “Is that a promise?”

***

It was nearing the end of the night. Steve could feel his time with you was nearly spent. So he led you by the hand to the stairs at the back of the bar, the ones that led up to the roof. He’d found himself up there alone on quite a few nights, when the double dates Bucky set up inevitably crumbled.

It was a beautiful night, clear. The stars were out in force, dotting the sky in perfect constellations. In the distance, fireworks boomed. It was one thing he’d always loved about his birthday.

“Wow, this is great.” You murmured, looking out at the city. It was like you were living in a photograph, the old buildings looming in the skyline, vintage cars driving down the street.

“My favorite spot.” He explained, walking over to the railing.

“I can see why.” You let out a sigh, gripping his hand tighter, fingers laced with his. You turned towards him, looking at the smattering of kiss marks on his cheeks. You’d kept true to your word.

Steve twirled you around, pulling you closer, a soft, romantic smile on his face. “God, you are so beautiful.”

“Let me show you something.” You told him, drawing his eyes to your hand where you made a tiny, gentle forcefield, its blue light shining across his features.

“What…is that?” He asked, staring at the orb. “Is that how you got here? Where were you keeping it?”

You curled your fingers, letting the bubble fizzle away. “It’s not a thing. It’s part of me. Something I’ve been able to do since college. There are a lot of people like me where I’m from, people with gifts. Steve…after I leave, your life is about to get a lot weirder than time travel and forcefields. I can’t tell you how or why, but…”

“I appreciate the heads-up.” He assured you, smiling. “And I love you, too. I didn’t say it down there, and I know I just met you this morning, but…I…I love you so much, doll. I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you.”

“You, Steve Rogers, are going to do amazing things.” You whispered, taking his hand again.

“Says the girl with superpowers.”

“I’m serious.” You told him. “I grew up hearing stories about you. I wanted to be just like you. Brave beyond words, fiercely loyal. I guess it only makes sense that we share a soul.”

Steve grabbed your face with both hands, kissing you deeply, lips dancing against your own, heart racing, knees wobbling like Jell-O. He rested his nose against yours, breathing shallow.

“Careful, there. Don’t let me take your breath away.”

He shook his head, kissing you one last time before murmuring, “Oh doll, I could do this all day.” He glanced back towards the door, music from downstairs faint. He took your hand. “Let’s go back downstairs. I think they’re playing the last song.”

You smirked, following him. “I thought you had two left feet.”

He shrugged. “I’m a quick learner.”

***

After you’d disappeared, Steve felt hollow, walking slowly back into the house. Bucky was sitting at the kitchen table, absently reading the paper. He met Steve’s eyes when he heard his trudging footsteps.

“She left you something.” Bucky chucked the bundle of fabric at him and Steve caught it, holding it out in front of him.

Your Star Wars shirt. Shit. He hoped you didn’t need it for anything. “Uh oh.”

“Might fit you.” Bucky chuckled. “Obviously you can’t wear it out, but…”

“Yeah.” Steve agreed, eyes sparkling with tears. He held it to his face, inhaling the scent of your perfume like it was oxygen. “God, I miss her.”

“I know, pal. It’ll be alright. I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but it will be.” Bucky’s eyes fell to the grayed out mark on his own wrist, so faint it was barely legible. “You just gotta take it one day at the time.”

Don’t Know Where, Don’t Know When

Your veins were on fire. The blinding white shimmered, giving way to…your ceiling. You were laying on your bed again, sunlight streaming through the window.

You blinked a few times, feeling flowing back into your limbs slowly. Your heart raced. You sat up, staring at your hands. Soon enough, your eyes found your wrist. The letters were still there, spelling out the name of your soulmate.

Steven Grant Rogers.

“Oh my god.” You looked up and met your reflection’s eyes, your hair still set in elegant 40s waves. Your pajamas were gone, replaced with the blue dress. Your lips were a deep shade of red, the same shade you’d left all over Steve’s face last night. A different Steve in a different time.

You let out a breath, standing up and walking towards the door, your new-vintage forties heels clicking with every step. You marched straight out to the kitchen, where Steve was sitting at the table, fiddling with his cuff. He was sitting across the table from Bucky and Natasha, whose eyes tried to warn Steve that you were approaching behind him.

“Happy Birthday, (Y/N). Um, how’d you sleep?” He asked, eyes widening when he saw the way you were dressed. His first love, in the flesh, just the way he remembered her.

“I didn’t.” You replied, grabbing his wrist and pulling him out of the room, snatching up the folding footstool leaned on the end counter as you passed.

“Good luck, pal.” Bucky laughed.

You just about kicked open the door of the conference room, skirt swishing as you did. You closed the door behind you, locking it with a click.

“(Y/N), listen, I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you, but—”

You unfolded the stool, getting up on top of it and pushing him against the wall. You crushed your lips against his, hands grasping the fabric of his shirt. He moaned into your mouth, frozen for a moment until the rest of him got the hint. His eyes fluttered shut, strong arms wrapped around your waist, head tilting as he deepened the kiss.

Your grip on his shirt weakened, arms looping behind his neck, holding him close as his lips left yours. He rested his forehead against yours, breaths ragged. He laughed, tucking his face into the crook of your neck to hide the tint of his cheeks.

“Not quite where I thought this conversation was gonna go.” He murmured against you, pressing kisses up your neck.

You reached for his left hand, fingers lingering against the strip of leather that was still hiding your name.

“You can take it off.” He told you, eyes sparkling. “It’s about time.”

Carefully, you undid the metal bit holding it in place and peeled it back, revealing your name etched there onto his skin, your handwriting unmistakable. You choked on a sob, tears slipping down your face.

“The whole time?” You asked, grabbing onto his hand with both of yours. “You knew the whole time?”

“I’m sorry.” He apologized, eyes falling to the hand you were holding. “I…You didn’t know when I met you. I didn’t want to risk…changing anything.” I didn’t want to risk losing you.

“I can’t believe…Here I thought I was your rebound.” You laughed, sniffling through your tears of relief. “I thought you were falling in love with me and I would be the asshole for getting a soulmate and breaking your heart. And it was me the whole time.”

“That’s why you were worried we wouldn’t be friends?” He asked softly.

You nodded, more tears falling when you remembered the way you’d felt day before.

“Oh, sweetheart…” He shook his head, wiping your tears away. “Honestly…I’m really glad we got to be friends first. Most soulmates don’t get that. It made me appreciate every moment with you even more. It was weird and hard, but…loving you was easy. Always has been. It was not telling you that was crushing me.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t put it together sooner…” You said, shaking your head. “All of those little moments…the reading chair, the Hunger Games marathon, the cabin…” Your heart ached remembering the night in the cabin. 

You remembered him sleeping against the wall in the infirmary after you’d been knocked unconscious, unwilling and unable to leave you alone when you were hurt. You remembered the bewildered look in his eyes when he thought you were dressed up for a date instead of Wanda’s birthday outing. The argument about whether or not you should go on the Red Room mission, when he was more worried about your safety than anything else, broken over the idea of something happening to you when he wasn’t there to help. The Lego set you’d spent hours building together, his hands so careful, fingers brushing against yours every so often. The mission in the Amazon, when the only thing he could think about while pseudo-drunk was you.

It was always you. It had always been you. 

“Steve…”

“Are we gonna be okay?” He asked quietly, watching you, searching your eyes for some flicker of disappointment. “It’s okay if you need time. I’d understand. It’s…well, it’s a lot to process.”

“I just…” You sighed, squeezing his hand. “I can’t believe I get to have you. I can’t believe you’re mine.”

“Believe it.” He said. He raised your hand, pressing a long kiss to your soulmark. “I love you, (Y/N) (L/N). I always have.”

“I love you too.” You confessed, earning that handsome smile he was so famous for. You couldn’t help but admire him, your supersoldier, the man that time had saved specifically for you. “I don’t need time. I just need you.”

You looked down at your new dress, realizing for the first time what it meant that you were still wearing it. You’d left your other clothes behind.

“Right. Before I forget.” Steve said, presenting a tattered, faded wad of fabric that had once been a shirt. “You left this at my place.”

You unfurled the fabric to find your missing Star Wars shirt, or what was left of it. You stared at it, dumbfounded. “You’ve had this the whole time?!”

“Took it everywhere with me.” He admitted. “Storming Hydra bases in Europe, Battle of New York, Sokovia, everywhere. I used to wear it, back when I was…you know, but it didn’t fit after my growth spurt. Sorry I couldn’t get it to you in better shape.”

“This is why you like Star Wars.” You realized, staring at it and looking back up at him.

“Yes.”

“Oh my god.” You laughed, shaking your head. You handed it back to him. “I think you need this more than I do, Steve. You can hold onto it for me if you want.”

He smiled, eyes soft. “You mean it?”

“Yeah, of course. I know it’s safe in your hands.”

Your shirt wasn’t the only thing that was safe in his hands. You were pretty sure, finally, that your heart was, too.

You stepped down from your footstool. Steve watched with an amused smile, chuckling.

“We had less of a height difference last night.” You reminded him, folding up the stool.

“I remember.” He reached for your hand and you gave it to him. He brought it to his lips, kissing each of your knuckles with care. “God, I missed this. I missed you so much, doll. Which is silly because you’ve been here, but…”

“I get it.” You reassured him, dropping his hands and wrapping your arms around him instead. 

He hugged you to his chest, resting his head against yours and letting out a long breath. You could tell he’d been holding it in for a long, long time.

***

Before you changed out of your forties look, Wanda insisted on a little photoshoot, which you were grateful for. Looking back, it would be fun to have pictures, even just as more proof that it had actually happened. Steve obviously sat in on some of the photos.

You asked some questions, of course, such as “who all knew?” The answer was everyone, but not until the night before when he’d finally come clean to the team. Before that, it had just been Bucky and Nat, and more recently, Sam.

Wanda claimed she had felt something, but never pried. Anyone could see it, though. Anyone with eyeballs. The way he looked at you had always been with love.

You changed into your dress for the party, necklace on display between your collarbones. You touched up your makeup a little bit, but left it. Bucky’s vintage lady friend had done a good job.

Tony showed up about an hour before the party was supposed to start, instructing the caterers. He stopped in his tracks, meeting your eyes with an apologetic smile. “Rogers tell you my side of the story?”

“He did.” You nodded. “And I appreciate you looking out for me. Kind of. In your own way.”

“And I am sorry, for the record. Maybe there would have been a way to bring it up without…you know.” Tony shrugged. “Happy birthday, kid. I’m glad it all worked out for you and the old-timer.”

You chuckled. “Thanks.”

“Got in touch with your parents. You were right. They’re off-planet. But I have their contact info if you want to…”

“Yeah, I’d really like that. Thank you, Tony.”

“Of course. I’ll get that all squared away.”

Steve walked up to you as Tony walked away, eyes landing on the necklace there. You realized, as he stared at it, that you’d been wearing it the night before. You hadn’t taken it off before bed.

“Is that what you meant when you said you had help picking it out?” You realized, putting the pieces together. “I thought you meant Natasha or something.”

“No, I uh…” He grinned, nodding. “I got a good look at it that night. You never said who gave it to you, but I figured it may as well be me.”

Steve was wearing a blue button-up, his nice black slacks that did everything for his legs. He’d shaved, combed his hair all neat. His hand settled on the small of your waist, pulling you closer to him.

You stood on your toes, hooking an arm around his neck and tugging him down for a kiss, lips melting against his. You felt his warm hand settle on your jaw, tilting your head just so. He smelled good, like his woodsy mahogany cologne. His breath was fresh, spearmint. And his lips were soft, confident but gentle.

His nose nuzzled yours, breath warm as it fanned across your cheeks. He met your eyes for a moment before pressing a kiss to your forehead, pulling you against him again. Now that he could touch you freely, he just couldn’t get enough.

“Bout time.” Bucky chuckled, walking into the room, Natasha’s hand in his. She looked great, wearing a nice red dress. “How are you two doing?”

“Great, Buck.” Steve replied, still not letting you go as he swayed. “I’m doin’ great. How are you, birthday girl?”

“It’s the best one I’ve had so far.” You said, echoing his words when you’d asked him the same question. You kissed him again, lips finding his easily.

He smiled, eyes sparkling. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Same here.” You told him. “I’ve had a crush on you since middle school. Imagine how I feel.”

“Middle school???” He asked, laughing.

“Yeah, why do you think I was crying at Air and Space Museum?”

“I was still in the ice!”

“Middle school girl crushes know no bounds, Captain Rogers.” Kate said, her and Yelena walking into the room next, more or less matching in their black dresses and purple and red accents. “I had plenty of crushes on old dead guys when I was in middle school. No offense.”

He laughed. “None taken.”

The party guests arrived in waves. The remainder of the team came, along with the extended family: Maria Hill, Jane Foster and her intern Darcy. A handful of your college friends came, buzzing about the prospect of being at the Avengers Compound, as well as the fact that you were an Avenger now, since most of them hadn’t seen you since that change had occurred.

You greeted them all as they came in, smiling and laughing and joking around like you did during the good old days. You introduced them to your new friends, your team. The playlist Steve had agonized over set the perfect tone. Some songs were upbeat and danceable, some were chill and slow, giving the couples in the room the chance to pair off and dance together.

During one of such songs, Steve offered his hand.

“Come on, let’s dance.”

“Like old times…” You murmured, hand sliding into his as he led you out onto the makeshift dancefloor.

Steve faced you, strong hand settling on your waist, the other still wrapped around yours. There was only one song it could be, of course. His favorite of the songs you had shown him thus far. He spun you around, face hovering just behind your ear, where he pressed a tender kiss before spinning you back around to face him.

“Even if we’d met on a crowded street in 1944, and you were headed off to fight in the war…”

“You still would have been mine, we would have been timeless…” You sang softly, meeting his eyes, the smile on your face matching his own. It was like Taylor had plucked the lyrics from your very heart.

“I think we kind of are.” He said, head nuzzled to yours, still swaying along to the song.

“Yeah, I think so too.” You replied.

When the song was over, Steve leaned in and asked, “Can I give you your presents now?”

“Yeah, of course.” You nodded.

He led you out of the room and down the hall to one of the conference rooms, where he’d stashed them earlier. There were four things waiting there. A medium box, a tiny box, and two easels covered with sheets.

He turned a chair around and motioned for you to sit, so you did. He handed you the bigger box first, and the infamous clinking sound gave it away before you could even get the wrapping paper off.

“Oh I think I know what this is.”

“I thought you might say that.” He chuckled. “I didn’t know if you had this one or not. I kept the receipt just in case…”

You tore the paper off to reveal a Lego set. It was Van Gogh’s Starry Night. “I don’t have this one yet. And I cannot wait to build it with you.”

“That makes two of us, doll.” He kissed your cheek, handing you the next present, the smaller one.

You tore the paper off to reveal a small velvet box. You gently lifted the lid and inside, there was a set of star earrings and a simple silver band. An eternity band, if you weren’t mistaken. Not an engagement ring, but it was a common gift for soulmates to give once they found each other, especially after they’d spent some time together.

“Oh, Steve…” You murmured, tears in your eyes. “They’re beautiful.”

“Can I?” He asked, kneeling down beside you and reaching for the ring.

“Yeah, of course.” You held out your hand and let him slide the band onto your finger. How he’d gotten your size, you didn’t know, but it fit perfectly.

“I’ve been thinking about doing this since 1943.” He confessed, hands lingering around your own.

“It’s still so crazy to me.” You sighed, shaking your head. You met his eyes. “You were in love with me before I even existed, before my parents were even born.”

“I know.” He nodded, pressing a kiss to your cheek, another to the corner of your lips. “When I woke up after the ice, I…I was lonely for a while. I spent a lot of days alone, learning, trying to figure out the new world I’d found myself in. I was kind of bitter. I didn’t know why it had happened to me…until I found you in the mall that day. And then I knew it wasn’t some accident. What happened to me was fate. You’re my destiny. Everything that happened led me straight to you and it was all worth it.”

“You can’t keep doing this to me.” You sighed, fingers intertwining with his.

“Doing what?”

You leaned your forehead against his, whispering, “Making me fall more in love with you.”

“No promises.” He laughed, kissing your lips and pulling you to your feet. “On my twenty-fifth, you said you didn’t know I was an artist and I promised I’d show you sometime.”

He pulled the sheet off of the first painting. It was you, glowing a brilliant blue, streaks of energy emanating from you like you were a star. Your eyes glowed, hair blew in the breeze. Behind you was a bright waypoint and zipping through the air was his shield, all of it captured in breathtaking oil painting. You wondered how long it had taken.

“This is so beautiful, Steve.” You rested your head against him, arm wrapped around his waist. “You made me look like a freaking goddess.”

“Well now you know how I see you.” He reached for the sheet covering the second painting, a little more careful with this one due to the age of it alone. “You might recognize this one.”

It was the painting from the antique shop, the soulmates dancing in Val’s. Now, with your new knowledge, you recognized them immediately. It was you and Steve. Always had been. Tears slipped down your cheeks and your hand covered your mouth, muffling your sobs. There was a time when you were afraid no one would ever love you as much as the blond-haired man loved the girl he was dancing with and it had been you all along.

But that little blond guy had painted it for you, not knowing whether or not you would ever get to see it.

You turned to Steve, standing on your toes to wrap your arms around his shoulders, head resting against his strong frame as you cried.

“I never stopped looking. Never.” Steve said, voice getting emotional. “Every base I went to, I met every nurse. At every coffee shop, I studied every college student in case you were there doing homework. Every time I went to the theater, I was scanning faces for yours. It became habit, looking for you. I…”

“You found me.” You said, pulling away to see his face. You brushed his tears away with a gentle thumb. “You found me, Steve.”

He surged forward, kissing you deeply, with a century of passion behind his lips. Your hand wandered into his soft blond hair, the other settling against his firm chest. His hands caressed your body, memorizing every curve and dip, lips chasing yours through every slight movement. And after, he pressed a dozen kisses to your cheeks, your forehead, your nose. You giggled, finally catching his lips again.

Your breaths were heavy when he finally pulled away; his, too. You straightened out the fabric of his dress shirt, pulling him back down for one last kiss. Then another. Then, really, one last one.

“I love you, Steve Rogers. Now, then, and always.”

“Now, then, and always.” He murmured, kissing you again.

The two of you cleaned yourselves up before returning to the rest of the party. You blew out your candles and made your wish, for an eternity side by side with him, that wherever life took the two of you, it took you there together.

You had a slice of cake and some ice cream, sitting on the couch next to Steve, legs draped over his. He used his thumb to dab a little frosting onto the tip of your nose. You smeared frosting across his cheek with yours, which made him laugh.

After, there was one last song before most of the guests would be headed home for the night. As soon as the instrumental kicked in, you got emotional. It had been your last song with Steve the night before, a song that had been written about those going off to war, their futures as uncertain as the stars were numerous.

For Steve, it held a different meaning. He’d known then that his time with you was running out. He had no idea when he’d see you again, just that it would be a long time and that the version of you he met wouldn’t even know him yet, that it might be years before he got to kiss you again.

And so, the two of you danced as you had the night before, on Steve’s twenty-fifth and on yours, your face tucked against his, his arms wrapped tight around you as you swayed gently to the music.

“We’ll meet again. Don’t know where, don’t know when, but I know we’ll meet again some sunny day…”

Tags: @cap-lu20

[gothicallybright]

HOT TO GO!

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

you fall in love with your barista who is chappell in a paris coffee shop. that's it.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

𓆩♡𓆪 A/N 𓆩♡𓆪

i see that there are very few chappell roan ffs so i decided to do something about that. there's no smut just yet so don't get your hopes up. enjoy reading! 𓆩♡𓆪

The grey mist of the Parisian morning slowly envelops the empty street, wrapping everything in its cold embrace. The trees by the street, devoid of the bright colors of spring, are already bare and brown, as all of nature gets ready for the long and cold winter.

You, wearing a pair of black pants and a leather jacket, walked through the streets, shivering as you kept your hands tucked in your pockets. The leaves on the trees by your side slowly fell down to the ground with each breath of air, while the cold morning air bit through your thick clothes. The donut coffee shop's sign shone with a warm light that brought you comfort as you got closer.

As you walk towards the shop, you feel a cold northern breeze play upon your cheeks, which braces your nerves, and fills you with delight. Do you understand this feeling? That familiar nostalgic feeling that the bittersweet winter brings you?

With another deep breath you finally stepped inside the shop, sighing and breathing out warm air. The little bell attached to the door alerted the barista of your presence.

The moment you take another breath through your nose, its immediately filled with a blend of smells: the distinct scent of dark roasted coffee beans being brewed, the sweet smell of freshly baked donuts, the rich scent of melted chocolate, mixed with vanilla, the comforting scent of various herbs mixed with an undertone of cinnamon, and also the warm scent of hot milk and cream combined with sugar.

''Good morning. Please, make yourself comfortable, I'll be right with you.''

A soft voice came from behind the counter as the barista seems to be crouching down, looking for something.

You slowly take off your leather jacket, placing it on the jacket hanger by the entrance.

The small cozy coffee shop is dimly lit with warm lights glowing from the ceiling panels. The walls are all different shades of browns, and are filled with beautiful paintings done by local artists on canvases that line the shelves. Small, comfortable dark leather chairs and couches are scattered around with dim lamps glowing from the tables. Soft jazz music is playing through the speakers mounted on the walls in the corners. The whole contrast just reminds you of autumn itself.

You take a seat a little closer to the counter, like you usually do in coffee shops. Your eyes slowly drift towards the window, absorbing the scenery placed in front of you when suddenly the same soft voice breaks you out of your trance.

''What can I get you, miss?'' A pair of blue eyes stared back into yours and suddenly you forgot what you wanted.

Was it espresso? No, too bitter. Was it cappuccino? No, too bland.

''Uh…'' You let out a nervous laughter.

The somewhat short woman with long, intense brownish red curly hair stared deeply into your eyes, awating your answer, holding a server book in her left hand and a pen in her right hand.

Her clicking of the pen made you realize she was slowly losing patience with you.

''Can I just get a latte?'' You finally mumbled out, looking down at your hands knowing that you just wasted her time.

''Sure. Anything else?''

''No, that's all. Thank you.''

She nodded before turning around and walking towards the counter.

You couldn't read her nametag correctly.

The seat you chose gave you the perfect view of what's going on behind the counter.

You can see the woman that just took your order behind the counter, the glow from the coffee bar lights illuminating her face. Her eyes are sharp and focused as she expertly moves around the tools around her: the coffee cup full of strong espresso, a large stainless steel milk steamer, and a variety of syrups on the shelf. With the press of a button, the steamer starts, and the barista quickly turns on the espresso machine, steam coming out of the nozzle as a loud hissing sound fills the room. Holding the steamer above the coffee, she waits for the milk to gently foam up until it is the right consistency.

As you were looking at the barista, you felt your heart race with nervous excitement as you took in all her features. Your eyes darted and fixed on her hair, which you thought was really unique and good-looking. Soon, your eyes accidentally landed into the barista's eyes and she was also already looking at you. Realization flooded your mind and you quickly looked away in shame, your cheeks burning red. It didn't help that you were the only one in here either, it's 7 in the morning after all. The jazz music filled the awkward silence between you and the barista just perfectly.

You decided it's for the best to just look out the window until she brings you your drink. You had your head resting on your right hand, watching the trees get slowly covered in frost as you waited for your drink to be brought to you, the window fogging with the heat of the shop. You slowly turned away from the window, suddenly finding yourself facing the barista who has brought you the drink, the warm and inviting smell emanating from the hot drink filled you with a warm feeling as the smile on the barista's face brought out your own.

''Enjoy your drink.'' She said, still a smile on her face.

''Thank you.'' You replied back, the shakiness in your voice being too obvious for comfort.

You were finally able to read her nametag. Chappell R. Hm, you think to yourself, how unique.

Chappell turned around leaving you alone and you noticed that she drew a heart with the milk foam on the surface of the latte. How cute!

You slowly sipped on your warm latte as you pulled out the book you recently started reading. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen to be specific.

As time slowly ticks life away, the morning fog slowly vanishes in the air as the Sun brings warmth to this usually colder city just north of Paris.

You lost track of time as you were so deeply engrossed in the book, just barely noticing the two girls that came in.

''Can I just get one regular espresso, please?'' One of the girls spoke.

''Ugh, Sabrina you always get the same thing! I'll just have a macchiato please.'' Presumably, one of her friends replied.

You watched as Chappell wrote down the orders and went back to the counter.

Chappell was pouring the hot milk into the espresso cup, when the hot steam of the milk hit her face, causing her to jerk her arm holding the steel milk container. A loud clang can be heard and the container flew out of her grip spilling the hot liquid all over the counter and her hands, soaking her black apron and jeans at the same time. She yelped in pain, the hot liquid leaving red marks on her hands and clothes. Seeing the mess she made, she quickly turned around to see if anyone saw, only to find you staring at her wide-eyed.

You quickly put down the book and rushed to her aid.

''Are you alright? Let me help you with that!'' You quickly grabbed some napkins and went around the counter to help her clean up the spill. You reached over and started helping her clean the counter, taking a few quick looks at her hands as both of your hands brushed against eachother touching for each wipe of the spill.

Feeling satisfied with your clean-up, wiping your hands on clean napkins, you threw away the stained ones. This whole mess leaving you both with the aftermath of the spill, the smell of milk, combined with coffee and chocolate lingering everywhere. Chappell's apron and jeans were soaked as the espresso shot sat there untouched on the counter, still hot.

Chappell didn't have any other clothes and you decided to offer her your leather jacket which she accepted with a shy smile and a nod of gratitude. She put the jacket over her soaked clothes. You realized that this is a pretty hard one-person job so you decided to help her work. After that you started working together, Chappell reluctantly accepting your help because she thinks she brought you enough trouble for the day. You slowly started getting acquainted with how the work went. Together you worked hard, keeping costumers satisfied and at bay. The smell of the pastries and coffee filling the area as you worked in tandem. Your shoulders occasionally brushed, letting out a mix of scents: sweet pastries, chocolate and sweet coffee, and your cheap perfume that you bought on sale.

When the clock finally struck 6PM, the donut coffee shop finally closed and you were standing outside of it with Chappell, the rain soaking you both and the northern breeze occassionally shivering you both.

''Thank you so much for helping me today.'' She told you, her soft spoken voice warming you up.

''No worries. I personally think it was fun.'' You laughed a little, earning a smile from her.

''So? See you tomorrow, same time?'' You asked, hoping for a positive answer.

''No. See you tonight.'' She winked at you as she handed you a folded piece of paper.

It was her number.

[brandwhorestarscream]

He's really going to die this time

That's what Starscream thinks, the thoughts half-clouded behind the incessant tinnitus blocking everything else out. It had started about halfway through Megatron's tirade, when the heavy handed old gladiator had back handed him so hard he flew back and hit the wall with enough force he bounced forward onto the floor. The ringing in his audials had started then and soon after the sluggish pulsing of his spark joined it, and combined they were so loud he could barely hear his own thoughts when all was said and done.

...it's cold. It's wet. He hurts everywhere. He's bleeding in six... no, maybe seven places? His visual feed is corrupted with static. Seems something was shaken loose in his processor. His left optic is out, and the remaining right one won't stop flickering. It hurts.

The ceiling looks so far away. It's dark. How long has he been laying here? It feels like an eternity since he was thrown down onto the floor and Megatron finally stormed out, satisfied with his punishment. Time always passes sluggishly like this, and he's so, so tired. Exhausted, even. He can't muster the will or the strength to sit up, or even try to drag himself to the door. He doesn't know if he can. He can't feel his legs. Or his arms. Are they broken? It wouldn't be the first time his struts had snapped over the course of the war.

A wave of vertigo hits him even though he's laying down. It feels like the world has tilted at a 45° angle and now he's falling. Speckled colors dapple his vision and it begins to cloud over with darkness. Is he dying?

It feels like he's dying.

Panic jolts his spark then, because fragging pits what if he is dying?! No, no, not yet! He can't die yet! He's not ready, this can't be how he dies, alone and cold in a bloodied heap in the darkened command center, this can't be it!

Despite his desperation and straining he can't even lift his helm, and darkness swallows his vision. The falling sensation returns with a vengeance, and then... nothingness.

...

Starscream jolts awake and thrashes in panic as he flies into an upright position, chassis heaving as he gasps and heaves for air to cool his overheated frame. He's sticky and wet with condensation, and he grabs at his chest. His mind is racing along with his spark, and he barely has time to wonder what happened when the darkness is banished with a sudden flood of light.

He flinches back with a hiss of surprise, servos coming up to shield his optics. They're fluorescent, bright white, nothing like the somber violet of the Nemesis he's gotten used to.

"Rise and shine, Your Highness!"

That jars him. His helm jerks in the direction of the voice so quickly his neck cables nearly kink, and he's greeted by another seeker, quite a rare sight indeed. He's a cheerful bright green and blue, yellow optics set in a silver face and already bustling over toward him.

"Up and attem, time's a wastin'! Your bath is ready, and once you're clean I've got Finery doing your paint today--Prim's out sick, poor thing," he's talking a mile a minute and Starscream is nothing short of flabbergasted. Is- Is he hallucinating? Surely, he must be! Yes, that's it, he- he's in the medbay and is so doped up on medication he's having vivid hallucinations. The other mech keeps talking, completely unbothered by his slack-jawed expression as he opens up the bureau on the opposite side of the room. "-and then you've got breakfast with your parents and immediately after that you're scheduled for archery. Don't forget you've got a meeting with the House of Diplomacy and then a soiree with Lord Thundercracker, and you know how Lady Permafrost gets about tardiness so let's try to be on time today, hm? After that- come on, chop chop! Out of bed, come on! Up, up! We don't want to fall behind!"

"Wha-"

The stranger hurries over and all but throws the covers off of him--silver, imported silk by the looks of it, painfully familiar--before reaching to place something on his helm. A circlet retrieved from the bureau, that's what he had been doing. "Come on, Highness, you really shouldn't lollygag. Didn't you hear me? Your bath is already prepared, and-"

Wait! "Cloudbreaker...?!"

The busybody finally stops for a moment. "Yes, Your Highness?"

Starscream's spark starts hammering again, and he leans so far forward he nearly falls off the berth. "You're really Cloudbreaker?!"

"I- yes?" The other mech tilts his helm. "Who else would it be?"

He hadn't seen Cloudbreaker since the day before Vos fell. He died in the fall, as so, so many of them did. More than 90% of their population had perished in the massacre. His optics move on their own to examine the room, and his audials start ringing again.

It's his room. His room, his suite, from so long ago. There's all his shelves with all the things he's collected, his countless personal bookfiles and pretty trinkets and, Primus, he can spot one of his old, soft toys from when he was very small. He glances down at the berth and it's his berth, he's under his blanket, these are his fancy cushions and pillows. He reaches under one of them and, sure enough, an old, raggedy piece of cloth with his name embroidered on it, far too small to be used anymore but still so precious. Handmade and woven by his carrier, before he had even been born.

There's no way.

It- It isn't possible.

But...

He nearly trips over himself in his haste to get up, almost tangling himself in the berth's cushy mesh fabrics as he dashes for the window. It's not real. It can't be! He's hallucinating! But-

He throws the curtains open and bright, glorious sunlight streams in. Towers of white and gold and silver greet his optics, platforms and of all shapes and sizes stretching into the distance as far as he can see, all suspended in the air and flying amongst the clouds. He sees seekers by the hundreds, thousands, zooming through the skies and going about their days. He presses his servos to the glass, then his face, and tears well up and spill over before he can even think to stop them. He hears the city singing, the whistling wind rushing through the flying architecture making a unique symphony he hasn't heard in millions of years. It's so startlingly clear, so crisp, so real.

He sobs as he realizes just how beautiful Vos is, realizes how much of its' wonder he had forgotten, realizes how his memories had been dulled and diluted. He'd forgotten the breathtaking depths of the colors, he'd forgotten all the ways the light sparkled and shone off the buildings. He'd forgotten the distant sounds of their people going about their days, he'd forgotten this beautiful view.

"...Your H-"

"What time is it?!"

"Uh, well, it's nine-"

"No!" He whirls around and finds Cloudbreaker has approached him, and he grabs the other's face in his servos. Staring him down gravely as he demands, "Not just the time of day! What year?! What cycle, what lunar phase, what day, what time?! Down to the millisecond!"

Cloudbreaker rattles it all off, looking startled, and his spark jumps in his chassis. It feels like it's caught an updraft, suddenly elevated as a foreign sense of hope and elation tries to anchor within him.

There's still time! The bombing hasn't happened yet, and there's still time!

[myakikijackson]

Lost Girls

PART 1

Reader and Coco try to come to terms with the prisons they've each created for themselves. Longing for something beyond their reach and fighting for forgiveness for their past mistakes and a loss that tore them apart and hurt the ones they loved the most.

***Readers 18+ Only***

Warnings: Contains/mentions/implied pregnancy/childbirth, drug use, abuse (adult and child), SA (though not graphically described, it is implied), death. Not all are mentioned in every part, it is throughout

In the dead of the night, you stir from a sleepless slumber that has become indistinguishable from your waking hours. The line between day and night dissolved long ago, a casualty of the life you've been forced to lead. Different reasons kept you awake at different points in your life. As a child, it was the muffled shouts of your mother and stepfather fighting, escalating into crashes and thuds that would send a jolt of icy fear through your small body. You would lie awake, forcing your heavy eyelids to stay open, listening intently, ready to rush out to make sure your mother was okay. Even if sleep claimed you, it was never a complete surrender. Your dreams were fragmented by that constant sense of dread.

Now, years later, you stare at the warped ceiling above you. Cracks branch out like veins across its surface, the paint peeling in uneven patches, exposing discolored plaster beneath. A single bulb dangles from the ceiling by a frayed wire, swaying gently whenever a draft slips through the crumbling walls of the room. It casts a sickly yellow light that makes shadows dance in the corners, shapes shifting and expanding like specters. You don’t bother turning it on most nights. What's the point? The darkness feels more honest.

The bed you lie on offers no relief or comfort. The mattress sags in the middle, its springs digging into your back like cruel reminders of every wound you’ve suffered over the years. Wounds that have yet to heal. They’re reopened daily. The sheet draped over you is threadbare and scratchy, its once vibrant pattern faded to a dull gray. Holes speckle its surface, where cold air sneaks through and brushes against your skin, making you shiver. You pull it tighter around yourself, but it’s no use. It can’t ward off the chill that seems to seep from within as much as without it.

The room is sparse, each piece of furniture a relic of better days or someone else’s discarded life. A chipped nightstand sits to the side, its uneven legs making it wobble with the slightest touch. On it rests a plastic alarm clock with a cracked face and a second hand that sticks intermittently, giving the illusion that time itself has given up moving forward. Beside it, a dusty glass holds the remnants of stale water, the rim smudged with fingerprints.

The walls are adorned with nothing but grime and a faint, greasy discoloration where years of neglect have left their mark. In one corner too high for you to reach was a small window barely larger than a shoe box, boarded from the outside, it lets in tiny slivers of moonlight. A small hole on the slab mocks you with just barely a peek of the outside, if you focus hard enough you can make out the skeletal branches of a tree, swaying in the wind like bony fingers reaching for something they’ll never grasp. Or maybe it was just your mind playing tricks. Either way, it adds salt to your wounds.

You sit up, the springs groaning under your weight, and glance around the room. It's suffocating in its stillness, its emptiness. This place, this purgatory, feels like a prison. The air smells faintly of mildew and something metallic, a combination that has become so familiar it no longer bothers you. Your gaze lingers on the door for a moment. Its paint is chipped, revealing layers of previous colors, a faded blue, a once-bright yellow, now dulled by grime. The lock stood firmly in its place, only a key could open that door.

Your mind drifts as it always does in these hours. Back to when the nights were filled with other sounds. The drunken slur of your stepfather’s voice, the sharp retorts of your mother’s frustration, the thud of a fist against the wall or worse, against her. You remember the way you used to press your ear against the door, your small hands trembling as you strained to decipher every muffled word. Even as a child, you knew the sound of danger, of escalation. You knew the moments to intervene, to run to her side, and the moments when hiding was the only safe choice.

But it changed, didn’t it? You grew older, and the fear that once anchored you to her side turned into frustration, then resentment. Why didn’t she leave? Why did she let him stay? No matter how many times you begged, cried, or even screamed, she never packed her bags. Never took your hand and walked out the door. It was as if she had made peace with the chaos, while you were left to drown in it. It left you often time questioning if she even loved you.

The turning point came abruptly and without mercy. That night, the fight was louder than ever before. You remember running into the room, your heart pounding so hard you thought it might burst. He was standing over her, his hand raised. You’d screamed, thrown yourself between them, but it wasn’t enough. The next thing you remembered was waking up in a hospital bed, your mother nowhere in sight. They told you later she was gone, to a better place, one you always imagined was with you real father and that she was finally happy. That gave you some peace but she’d left you behind. No goodbye. Just gone. Forever. And that carved a hole in your heart that you thought would never be filled.

You pull yourself out of the memory with a shudder, your fingers clenching the frayed edge of the sheet. The room feels colder now, the air heavier. You glance at the clock on the nightstand. The cracked face reveals it’s just past three in the morning. The hour of ghosts, they call it. And maybe that’s what this is, a haunting. Not by spirits, but by memories that refuse to let go.

A sudden noise breaks the silence, a faint creak from somewhere outside the door. Your body tenses, muscles coiled like a spring. You listen intently, the pounding of your heart almost drowning out the sound. But nothing follows. Just the wind outside, rattling the windowpane, and the distant hum of the city that never truly sleeps.

You lie back down, staring at the ceiling once more. The cracks seem deeper now, more pronounced. You trace them with your eyes, imagining them spreading further and further until the entire structure gives way, collapsing under the weight of time and neglect. It’s a fitting metaphor, you think. For this room. For your life.

And yet, there’s a part of you that clings to something. A thread of hope, as fragile as the sheet in your hands. Maybe it’s foolish. Maybe it’s all you have. But as the minutes drag on and the first light of dawn begins to trickle through the cracks of the boarded-up window, you tell yourself you’ll keep holding on. For another night. For another day. Because sometimes, surviving is all you can do.

Part 2

Lost Girls

[madameaug]

Matcha Tea

Pairing: Jimin x Althea (OC)

Synopsis: Althea never had Matcha before. Jimin is sweet enough to take her to a spot he knows.

Konnie's Kafe was the name of the shop Jimin walked hand in hand with Althea. The spot was owned by a sweet Arab woman who Jimin met at one of the many food truck festivals in the city. The shop was a minimalist but modern decore. Tables were stacked toward the front of the restaurant, and the behind the counter is where the bar was.

"It's gorgeous, the lighting is perfect." Althea spoke to her phone camera. Documenting the experience as she usually did with new things she tried. In the camera, the ceiling light gave her a golden-hour look. Skin was poppin!

"Oooo, look at the flavors." Althea flipped the camera to show the blackboard calligraphy hanging above the bar. Cream-colored pendant lights hung above the cash register, and oil paintings of floral and matcha herbs sat behind the light. Little things that, as an interior designer, she loved to pick up on. The air was clean, the furniture was warmy. She could see herself here frequently.

Jimin figured he would try something new. Deciding to join in on the experience of trying something new with Althea. He tilted his neck, letting out pops as he internally figured out what to try.

The matcha and white chocolate combination caught his eye.

Konnie came out of the backroom. Her cheekbones are high as she smiled at the customers.

"What can I get for you all?"

Jimin looked over to his left to see if Althea was ready. She was too caught up in her monologue to notice the social cue Jimin was giving her. With a loving hand, Jimin wrapped his arm across her shoulder, his face coming into view of the camera. He looked at Althea through the camera.

"Ready to order?"

"Yes, sorry. Can I get the tropical matcha, mama?" Jimin read the flavor description.

Matcha, coconut, and mint leaves.

"I would like the midnight matcha." Konnie punched in the orders on the POS system.

Jimin handed Konnie his card before she announced the total. Swiping the card, Jimin thanked her before following Althea to a table. As part of the decor, a flippable hourglass was in the center of the table. Althea rambled, talking about nothing in particular.

In record time, Konnie delivered the drinks to the table. Jimin watched Althea's pupils dilate in real time. Althea's tropical drink had a paper and toothpick tent hanging off the corner of the cup. Brown sugar on the rim appeared like sand, really selling the beach vibes.

"It's gorgeous!" Althea lifted the cup. "Jimin try." She turned the straw toward his mouth.

"You haven't even tried yet yourself." Jimin laughed.

Konnie, watching the two, smiled. Althea reminds her a lot of her bubbly granddaughter. A soul who was experiencing her first life. She was so open to exploration that it was nearly impossible not to love her.

Sipping the drink, Althea pondered. "ten out of ten!"

"Drink your drink, baby." Jimin picked up his drink, enjoying the new flavor he had tried. He gave Konnie a thumbs-up. She smiled, leaving the couple to enjoy their beverages.

In seconds, the sound of air passing through a straw. Jimin, not even a quarter through his drink looked at the empty glass in amazement.

"It was really good." Althea shrugged, tapping her mouth and applying a fresh layer of gloss on her lips.

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

Day 1: Infection

(Disclaimer: the character in this story does not belong to me. MadPat/AftonPat/Phone Guy is the property of Random Encounters.)

(The end of this story was actually inspired by some fanart courtesy of the amazing @insane4fandoms ! I would link it here…if it wasn’t already hidden in plain sight~ Hope you’ve been feeling better, friendo! Also, thanks for remembering one of my special fanmade scrunglies yet again, lol)

(Trigger Warnings:  blood/gore, body horror, degloving/skin-flaying, mentions of murder/death, implied dismemberment/self-mutilation, nightmares, paranoia, weapons. Please let me know if I missed anything.)

(Note: the events of this story take place right after the end of FNAF The Musical: Shadows of Agony. Which means, of course, that it also takes place a while after a certain collab I've been working on lately...)

Day 2 Day 3 Day 4 Day 5 Day 6 Day 7

___

Cold. 

He isn’t sure how he can hear his teeth chattering over the drumbeat of his heart. 

The air is so, so, so damn cold. 

He doesn’t understand—he’s still wearing his precious work-suit. Even after all these years, the tan-colored fabric has remained soft, somehow always seeming to keep him insulated despite how thin it is. 

And yet, it’s like there isn’t any cotton barrier between him and the air at all. The chill is actively seeping right through his skin to settle in his bones. 

The corridors are so dark. 

Although he’s never felt remorse for his actions (and knows by instinct that he never will), he still curses every single time he complained about the obnoxious humbuzz emitted by the light panels installed up above. 

There’s nothing above him anymore. Not even an actual ceiling. Just a still, shadowy void. Even if he was able to climb up the walls, he wouldn’t dare. That darkness is palpable. If he were to get close enough, something would reach up from the other side and drag him into it.

The only reason he can still see anything is a faint glow that flickers just up ahead. A plethora of shadows practically lick at the walls right around the corner… 

Fire. 

There’s fire somewhere nearby. Warm, dancing, beautiful fire.

Then again, “nearby” apparently isn’t all that accurate. 

Because he’s been able to see that tantalizing light all this time. He’s been able to smell the smoke, to hear the crackling and popping all this time.

And yet, whenever the fire seems to be at its closest, whenever he finally manages to round that corner…

He doesn’t find a burning pit, doesn’t find any sort of kindling. 

He just finds. Another. GODDAMN. HALLWAY THAT STRETCHES ON FOR MILES WITH  MORE FIRELIGHT TO TAUNT HIM AT THE VERY END.

The black-and-white checkerboard floor tiles have all been swallowed up by a shroud of scrap metal.

Bits and pieces of animatronic endoskeletons, their once silvery material now covered in rust.

Every few feet or so, warped arms and legs and eyes and sets of teeth peek out of the ruin, framed by twisted wires that still spark now and then.

The robotic nature of it all truly makes this place feel like a hellish combination of junkyard and slaughterhouse. 

A screeching, grinding cacophony is fueled with each and every footfall. How he can still hear his chattering teeth above even that, he has no idea. 

It’s all made worse by the fact that the corridors are so narrow. 

He can’t move an inch without his elbows knocking against the painted plaster. Perhaps he wouldn’t have to feel the constant aches surging through his tendons if he was walking, but he just can’t afford to be slow right now. 

The air keeps getting colder and colder—to the point that he starts to see his own breath. Small, steamy clouds pour out of his mouth, disappearing less than a second later. 

He’s been sprinting for hours now. 

Why the hell isn’t he sweating? 

Why aren’t his lungs burning if they’re already more-or-less threatening to burst any second now? 

Why does his blood seem to carry both the consistency and temperature of a fucking slushie?!

He skids to an abrupt halt, just barely keeping his balance as he pushes what’s left of his hands—the stumps wrapped up in layers of bloodied bandage—against the walls.

…A new sound has joined the cacophony both in-and-outside his head. 

A splashing, churning sound. 

And it’s echoing from somewhere above him. 

He glances up just in time to see ripples stretching out on the surface of that inky void. As though something inside is stirring in its sleep, struggling to wake. 

He throws himself down, burrowing through the metallic waste until he feels enough of it slide into place over his back. 

He is hidden. Not safe—he’ll never, NEVER be safe after all the things he’s done—but hidden.

He shifts his neck, not wanting to move any more than that. He needs to keep watching the surface, but too much movement will only ensure that they catch him sooner.

Above him, something heavy touches down on top of the wreckage. The rusty pieces are all jostled in a rhythmic pattern. 

He lays there, muscles tense, feeling the blood rush through his head, waiting for what feels like hours. 

But nothing starts digging toward him. Nothing ever pushes his cover away. 

Finally, FINALLY, the new noise starts to fade. The jagged, uneven footfalls above move past him, getting quieter and quieter every inch of the way.

Once they disappear completely, he flounders, moving in a way that’s reminiscent of both climbing and swimming. He surges up, determined to get back on his feet and keep running, keep looking for that precious fire. 

…But his head never breaks the surface. 

As his arms sweep the layers of junk away, he only finds more waiting to take its place. 

He feels icy claws drip down his spine—he’d only buried deep enough to cover himself! That was it! How the hell are there suddenly miles between him and those hallways?!

In his haste, a section of his bandages gets caught on the jagged edge of a robotic hand—the way its lifeless fingers are curled resemble the branches of a long-dead tree.

He snarls, pausing his movement to yank his arm back. But as he does, at the very last second…the bandage tears, allowing the sharp rust to scrape the already marred flesh of his wrist. 

Fear cuts through anger like a hot knife through butter.

He howls in pain, trying again and again to free his arm. But the more he moves, the more his now ruined bandage gets tangled up in the rust. The more exposed his stump becomes.

All at once, the newly bare skin starts to hiss. Wisps of discolored vapor begin drifting out of the wound—only a few at first, thin and short. But in a matter of seconds, larger clouds start flooding out, alongside a stream of dark red ooze.

He can only watch and scream as his skin keeps burning, keeps blistering, keeps bubbling. Flesh and muscle peel away in ribbons, sloughing off of him until the rough, splintered remains of his wrist-bones are revealed. 

And it doesn’t stop there.

Like shed scales being pulled away from a snake’s coils, the sizzling rot proceeds further up his forearm. His skin continues to twist and melt away. Now he can see the glistening shapes of his radius and ulna; they’re being unveiled slowly, little-by-little, inch-by-inch.

Even as he thrashes and flails and shrieks, he keeps aiming for the surface.

There has to be a surface! There has to be relatively fresh air somewhere outside all the rust! The world hasn’t just caved in on itself all because he wanted to hide—!

He feels more searing pain start to concentrate on his shoulder.

And then his neck…

…his jaw…

…his EYE-SOCKET…

___

What could only be described as an intense Charlie Horse sensation wracked the space between Mad’s eyes as they snapped open.

That sensation then slithered down to his throat, forcing him to cough and gasp as he writhed against the old mattress. 

He had to roll onto his side, had to use his elbow to prop himself up. It took a couple long, agonizing minutes before his breathing became steady enough. 

Heart still hammering painfully against his sternum, he stared down at his wrist-stumps. 

The bandage-layers were still splattered with crimson stains, but they were whole. No rips or tears to be found. 

The jagged mess of his skin in that area was still covered. The bleeding had stopped a long time ago. 

No organic steam, no hissing, no peeling…

With a heavy sigh (and much more effort than he’d care to admit), Mad manuvered himself to sit up, his legs now sliding over the edge, letting his boots thump against the old hardwood floor. 

His vision was quick to adjust to the darkness; this building had lost all electricity about a month ago, but that didn’t bother him too much. Besides, the moonlight filtering through that cracked window in the corner certainly helped. 

He eyes kept wandering back to his stumps as he glanced about the decaying room. He snarled at the thick spiderwebs that clung to the ceiling—what were the odds of one of those eight-legged creatures scuttling in-between the gauze and spinning a little egg-sac somewhere in his flesh..?

Mad shook his head feverishly, shudders pushing their way along his ribcage. Bright red glinted out of the corner of his eye: that wonderful, deadly, genius new toy he’d put together just the other night was sitting on the nightstand. Right where he’d left it. 

Mad stood, and as his shadow fell over it, the weapon's material seemed to glint even more. Almost like it was waiting for his next move. 

Taking a deep breath, he cradled the flame-chain (yes, that was what he was calling it. Patent-pending, bitches) and hefted it onto his back, the straps fitting around his shoulders perfectly.

Though this dead motel—the recently-condemned place that just so happened to be only a few blocks away from Freddy Fazbear’s—had made for good shelter earlier, he couldn’t afford to stay any longer. For all he knew, a construction crew would be en route to tear this place down and start building something else on its bones first thing tomorrow morning. 

He needed a new hideout. Somewhere else to stay before he could make a plan to get back to the pizzeria. 

Licking his lips, Mad threw the room’s door open and stormed down the rotting corridor. 

Adrenaline started to fester in his lungs as he realized that he already had somewhere else to go. 

He had someone to stay with. 

He had a favor to cash in…

@sammys-magical-au @lexusinsannus @im-a-weird0 @b-is-in-the-closet @that-bat

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Here's a 1952 ranch style home in Bremerton, WA that has some creative decor choices. The 5bd, 3ba, 3,330 sq ft home is for sale for $799k. There's a new kitchen, but the rest of the home needs updating.

Any home that is not white or gray catches my attention. This home has a bit of a dated entrance, but at least it's not gray. I bet that with some cool, updated decor and fresh paint, it could be very pretty.

There's a very large, sunny living room.

It has a brick fireplace wall and room for a dining table, plus doors to the patio.

Next to the kitchen is a combination family/dining room. As you can see, the dining area is very pink.

Is the floor worn?

There's a lot going on in the kitchen. The centerpiece is a huge island with a wildly marbleized counter. I prefer that to the pure white ones.

A whimsically colorful chandelier is directly over the island. Painted walls and the ceiling are done in gloss black.

Display cabinets with glass fronts are above.

This large room must be the primary.

The kitchen and 2 baths were redone, which are the biggest ticket renovation items.

This bedroom is large, also.

The bedrooms are all quite big.

Bath #2 has also been remodeled.

Very nice room with sliders to the patio.

I don't think that this bath was recently updated, but it's fine.

And, this large bedroom is actually the basement. I would love to have a vintage merry-go-round ride.

There's a large fenced yard with an above-ground pool.

.69 acre lot.

There are waterways just a few blocks from the house- on one side there's the Port Washington Narrows, and on the other side is Phinney Bay.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/2144-N-Cambrian-Ave-Bremerton-WA-98312/23401906_zpid/?

[clementinebriar]

[ 2403 POTTS LN, APT 2A, BLUE HARBOR, IL ]

This cozy 500-square-foot studio apartment is located on the second floor of a vintage two-story building in Weaver Ridge. The unit offers an efficient layout, combining a comfortable living area with a compact kitchen. Windows allow natural light to brighten the space, while the original hardwood floors lend a touch of warmth. The building itself provides a functional fire escape and a basement laundry room, though amenities reflect the building’s age. Ideal for those who appreciate an affordable, no-frills home with urban charm, this apartment captures the unique, gritty essence of Weaver Ridge.

[ THE WOOD HOUSEHOLD ]

Clementine Wood’s studio apartment may be small and worn, but it’s unmistakably hers. Despite what the description of the apartment might say online, the place comes with its fair share of quirks: the basement laundry room is almost always out of commission, the kitchen appliances work about as often as they don’t, and the landlord is a rare sight. The bed has to be shoved up against one wall to create enough room for a modest living area, and there’s likely mold creeping somewhere in the walls. But, hey! At least there’s a functional fire escape. Inside, Clem’s apartment is a canvas in itself, a vibrant, unapologetic tribute to her love for art. The walls are spray-painted in a chaotic burst of color, covered with sketches and bits of graffiti, and behind her bed sprawls a mural of Blue Harbor’s view over Cardinal Hill. Art spills across every surface, layered over any patch of blank wall with more of her creations, as if they’re pieces of her personality on display. Plants fill the space, too — lining the windowsills, spilling over corners, and even hanging from the ceiling. The air smells fresh and earthy, with a faint hint of citrus from the lemons ripening on a tiny tree she’s somehow managed to coax into life in the kitchen. Amongst the art and greenery, she’s carved out a cozy corner for her blue budgie, Dionysus. His cage and a few perches make up a small, lively nook of the apartment, adding a touch of warmth and companionship. Clem has called this place home since she first struck out on her own at 18, and despite its faults, she’s transformed it into her sanctuary — a little slice of Weaver Ridge that’s all her own.

[manic-maniac-man]

HUgE Jan 2010

NEW SHOP GUIDE

2009 was another year of a furious rush of new openings in Tokyo, from the long-awaited flagship stores of major fashion houses to the renewal of exclusive stores for popular domestic brands, to unique select shops and even cafes and bars.

We've compiled a list of new shops you should visit now that are waking up Tokyo.

Kolor

Kolor is known for its use of never-before-seen materials and for creating simple yet somehow sophisticated clothing. This brand, which is currently attracting the most attention, has opened an exclusive store in a quiet alley just off Aoyama Kotsu-dori. The modern space has a unique atmosphere with a combination of different materials such as warm wood, inorganic concrete and stainless steel, and a deep blue carpet. Color's unique use of innovative materials is strongly reflected in the interior design. Another feature is that there is no background music playing so that customers can concentrate on selecting clothes. In addition to the full lineup of men's and women's items, there are exclusive items that can only be found here. This is the birth of a store where you can fully enjoy the worldview of designer Junichi Abe.

TROVE FLAGSHIP SHOP

Trove specializes in creating clothes that are reconstructed with a modern interpretation, using retro, antique, and vintage as their motif. The store is designed to resemble a space that men would not normally experience, with fitting rooms modeled after makeup rooms, creating a calm atmosphere where customers can enjoy shopping at their leisure. In addition to the full lineup of items, the store also offers precious antique accessories such as scarves and brooches collected from all over the world, which further express the brand's worldview.

LAD MUSICIAN SHINJUKU

The neon lights of "LAD" suddenly appear in the busy shopping district of Shinjuku 3-chome, a chaotic place lined with restaurants, record shops, and music stores. This is LAD Musician Shinjuku, which opened as the third flagship store in Tokyo after Daikanyama and Harajuku. Designer Yuichi Kuroda had long wanted to open a store in Shinjuku. The interior of the store, which he directed himself, is surrounded by exposed concrete and has a minimal, compact space with only the bare fixtures displayed. The store is a condensed version of LAD Musician's new values, which show a completely different approach from the previous two stores.

ATTACHMENT DAIKANYAMA

After descending a long staircase, the shop, which expresses the world view of ATTACH MENT, with its minimalist design based on steel and concrete, spreads out through a glass façade. The interior design of the brand, which maintains a consistent identity, was done by AREA DESIGN. The large box-shaped fixture in the center of the store and the vertically aligned steel lights that make use of the high ceiling accentuate the clean space. The Daikanyama store brings together all of Kumagai Kazuyuki's creations.

DRIES VAN NOTEN AOYAMA

This flagship store was created in collaboration with Antwerp-based interior designer Geert Forijans. It has a contemporary store design based on the concept of fusing Japanese and European culture and aesthetics. A huge painting by Belgian painter Herraute de la Ilesse from the 17th century and monochrome artwork by contemporary Japanese artists decorate the walls, linking the artistic colors to the collection. The spacious floor, minimalist in design with concrete and walnut wood, has the feel of a salon or tailor. Geo. F. Trumber, a long-established British grooming manufacturer, is only available at the Aoyama store in Japan.

ENGINEERED GARMENTS

Engineered Garments has finally opened its own store in Minami Aoyama. The interior, designed by GOO FACTORY, which has been handling Nepenthes stores since the early days, is reminiscent of the minimalism of the Tokaido coast. The simple interior, which combines iron and wood, has been well-balanced by Suzuki Daiki. The lineup includes products that are only available at this store, as well as selected imported items. Through the store, the brand conveys the realism of its own New York office.

TOM FORD ISETAN MEN'S

Following the opening of the Hankyu Department Store Men's Building last year, Tom Ford's first flagship store in Tokyo has now arrived at Isetan Men's Building. The interior, which is focused on symmetry, exudes a refined and luxurious atmosphere with a predominant color scheme of gray and deep brown. In addition to a full lineup of items, there is also a wide selection of accessories such as eyewear and fragrances. There is also a made-to-order service on offer, allowing you to fully enjoy Tom's couture techniques.

BLACK FLEECE BY Brooks Brothers

Following on from Bleecker Street in New York, Black Fleece Bible Brothers has opened its second independent store in the world. The boutique, facing the street on the first floor of Omotesando Hills, is a chic space with ebony interiors, classic black fixtures, antique and grey flannel decorations, just like the store in the US. It is a luxurious space where you can fully enjoy the identity that Thom Browne conveys.

UNDERCOVERISM

"UNDERCOVERISM" has relocated and reopened. The interior was designed by Kazuya Sasaki of "Small Clone", an interior designer who has worked on "Quadrophenia" and "Number Nine", under the direction of designer Jun Takahashi. The interior of the store makes use of the inorganic texture of concrete, and the first thing that catches your eye is the impressive shelving system by "VITSOE" designed by master Dita Rams, which sits in the center of the floor. A scene from the photo book "GRACE", released last year, is displayed on the wall halfway up the stairs, further emphasizing the brand's worldview. Also pay attention to the "GILAPPLE" tree planted in the courtyard, which has become the new icon of the brand. We hope you will enjoy the reborn "UNDERCOVERISM".

BURBERRY OMOTESANDO

Burberry Omotesando has reopened after a renovation. The store design was handled by creative director Christopher Bailey. The world's first façade features the brand's iconic mega check pattern boldly cut on the bias, making a big impact. The store is divided into two floors, with the first floor stocked with leather goods, eyewear and other accessories. The second floor houses the full Burberry Prorsum lineup as well as a section selling the brand's signature trench coats.

[isabellas-painting1-fall-2024]

Intentions for Word Painting

I chose to present my phrase, "Loyal Enemy" by connecting the two words and using capital letters. I decided to angle the phrase slightly from the side to capture the three-dimensionality of the words.

For my painting, I want to create feelings of unity, harmony, and oneness. Although the words that I chose are seemingly opposed, I want to emphasize the intuitive presence of the "loyal enemy" in life. Perhaps most of the time, an individual's most loyal enemy is themselves. I find this to be true in my own life as I am often my own greatest hindrance. Therefore, I want my word painting to feel unified, as if to represent the animosity that may be expected to arise from one's own mind.

To create this effect, I chose muted colors that are fairly similar. I also chose to only use the ceiling lights to create a soft diffused shadow. This shadow contributes to the harmonious mood because it prevents sharp breaks or contrasts in the composition. Additionally, in creating my maquette, I split each word in half horizontally and used the same color for both words in the areas where they meet. This aids in creating harmony because rather than creating separation between the two words, they are combined in such a way as to flow into each other and create a singular form.

[interiordesignerrrr]

Children's Room Design Tips for Creativity and Play

Designing a child’s room is both an exciting and challenging endeavor. A child’s room isn’t just a place for them to sleep; it’s their personal space to play, dream, and grow. A well-designed room can foster creativity, encourage learning, and provide a safe haven for imaginative adventures. Whether you're a parent, a professional designer, or someone exploring ideas, this guide will provide you with valuable insights and tips to create a functional, playful, and inspiring room for children.

Why Children's Room Design Matters

Children spend a significant amount of time in their rooms, and the environment can significantly influence their development. A well-thought-out design can:

Stimulate creativity and imagination.

Provide a safe and comfortable space for rest and play.

Adapt to their growing needs.

Encourage organization and independence.

Let’s explore actionable tips to design a room that caters to a child’s unique needs and interests.

1. Incorporate Flexible Furniture

Children grow quickly, and so do their needs. Investing in flexible furniture ensures that the room evolves with them. For example:

Convertible Cribs: Cribs that transform into toddler beds or even full-size beds can save you money in the long run.

Adjustable Desks and Chairs: These grow with your child and support good posture during homework and crafts.

Modular Storage Units: Stackable or expandable storage solutions can adapt to increasing toy and book collections.

Example:

A bed with built-in storage underneath can serve as a perfect solution for smaller rooms, combining sleep and storage in one compact space.

2. Choose a Fun and Functional Layout

The layout of the room plays a significant role in functionality. A child’s room should be divided into zones:

Sleeping Zone: Ensure the bed is cozy and placed in a quiet area of the room.

Play Zone: Dedicate a space for toys, games, and imaginative activities. Use a soft rug or play mat to define this area.

Study Zone: Create a focused area for reading and studying, equipped with a desk, chair, and good lighting.

Tip:

Keep heavy furniture secured to the walls to prevent tipping, ensuring safety during playtime.

3. Stimulate Creativity with Colors and Themes

Colors and themes can significantly impact a child’s mood and creativity. While younger children often love vibrant colors, older kids might prefer more subdued tones.

Color Palette: Choose calming colors like soft blues or greens for relaxation areas and brighter hues for play zones.

Themes: Let your child’s interests guide the theme. Popular themes include space exploration, jungle adventures, or fairytale castles.

DIY Wall Art: Use removable wall decals, chalkboard paint, or magnetic paint to create interactive walls.

Example:

A space-themed room can include glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, rocket-shaped shelves, and bedding with planets.

4. Prioritize Storage Solutions

Keeping a child’s room tidy can feel like a never-ending task. Smart storage solutions make organization easier for both parents and kids.

Toy Bins: Label bins with pictures or words to encourage kids to put their toys away.

Bookshelves: Low, accessible shelves promote independent reading.

Under-Bed Storage: Utilize the space under the bed for seasonal clothing or less frequently used items.

Multi-Functional Furniture: Ottomans with hidden storage or beds with drawers are excellent space-savers.

5. Encourage Imaginative Play

Fostering creativity is one of the most important aspects of a child’s room. Consider incorporating elements that inspire imagination:

Play Tents or Teepees: Create a cozy hideaway for reading or pretend play.

Art Stations: Include a small table with art supplies like crayons, markers, and paper.

Themed Beds: Think of beds shaped like cars, castles, or boats for added fun.

Example:

A corner with a small stage and a curtain can double as a theater for your budding performer.

6. Lighting: Layered and Adjustable

Good lighting is crucial in a child’s room for safety, functionality, and ambiance. Incorporate different types of lighting:

Ambient Lighting: A central ceiling light for general illumination.

Task Lighting: Desk lamps for homework or reading.

Night Lights: Soft, warm lights that provide comfort during the night.

Tip:

Choose fixtures with dimmer switches to adjust brightness based on activities.

7. Add Personal Touches

Make the room feel truly special by adding elements that reflect your child’s personality:

Custom Wall Art: Frame your child’s drawings or create a gallery wall.

Name Decor: Use wooden letters or a custom neon sign to spell their name.

Photo Displays: Hang family photos or snapshots of your child’s favorite moments.

8. Prioritize Safety

Safety is paramount in a child’s room. Pay attention to the following:

Rounded Furniture Edges: Prevent injuries with rounded corners on tables and shelves.

Non-Toxic Materials: Use VOC-free paints and eco-friendly materials.

Secure Furniture: Anchor heavy items like bookshelves to the wall.

Cord Safety: Keep window blind cords out of reach.

9. Create a Growth-Friendly Environment

Design the room to adapt to your child’s changing needs:

Neutral Base: Choose neutral furniture and use accessories to reflect their current interests.

Rotating Decor: Swap out pillows, rugs, and wall art as their tastes evolve.

Open Shelving: This allows for easy reorganization as they grow.

10. Incorporate Technology Thoughtfully

Incorporating technology in a child’s room can be both fun and educational. However, moderation is key.

Interactive Learning Tools: Install an educational tablet or interactive globe.

Projector: A ceiling-mounted projector can transform the room into a mini home theater.

Music Corner: Include a Bluetooth speaker for music or audiobooks.

11. Green Elements: Bring Nature Inside

Introducing plants into the room can improve air quality and teach children about responsibility:

Low-Maintenance Plants: Choose easy-to-care-for plants like snake plants or pothos.

Fake Plants: For young children, realistic faux plants are a safer option.

12. Optimize Small Spaces

Not all homes have large rooms for children. In small spaces, creativity is key:

Loft Beds: Utilize vertical space by incorporating a loft bed with a play or study area underneath.

Wall-Mounted Desks: Save floor space with foldable wall-mounted desks.

Sliding Doors: Replace traditional doors with sliding ones to free up room.

Conclusion

For further insights and inspiration, you can explore trusted resources like Wikipedia's Interior Design page or professional platforms like Houzz and Elle Decor. These sources provide comprehensive ideas and trends to elevate your understanding of children's room design and more.

Designing a child’s room is a wonderful opportunity to combine functionality, creativity, and playfulness. By focusing on flexible furniture, stimulating colors, smart storage, and safety, you can create a space where your child thrives. Remember, the best designs grow with your child, reflecting their evolving interests and needs.

If you’re looking for expert guidance or professional services for interior design, visit kasapros.com for inspiring ideas and solutions. Transform your home with designs that reflect your style and functionality seamlessly.