#don’t wear tactical gear to school

[raccoonb0y]

I forgot about a happy Halloween post

But yippee costume

[brodygold]

Brocessed

It was supposed to be a regular Friday night, just us nerds crowded around the table, rolling dice and fighting imaginary dragons. Our group had been together for years—me, Scott, Joey, Derek, and our Dungeon Master, Eric. We had snacks, character sheets, and an epic campaign planned for the night. Nothing out of the ordinary, right?

Except when that knock came at the door.

“Who could that be?” I muttered, looking at the clock. None of us had ordered pizza, and it was almost 11 p.m. We all exchanged looks, and Eric, the tallest of us and thus unofficial “leader” of the group, got up to answer it.

Before he could even turn the knob, the door exploded open, and six guys stormed in. They were huge—like, NFL linebacker huge. All wearing golden jerseys with a crest I didn’t recognize, but I swear I’d seen before. They had an intimidating presence, like warriors marching into battle.

“Who—who are you?” Eric stammered, backing up as the tallest of them—a guy built like a truck—stepped inside.

“We’re the Golden Army,” the guy growled. “And you’re all about to be brocessed”

“What the hell?” Derek muttered, his glasses slipping down his nose as he looked for somewhere to hide. Joey was frozen in place, clutching his character sheet like it was a life preserver. Scott had already backed up against the wall, hands raised in surrender. And me? I couldn’t move. My heart pounded as if I’d rolled a nat-1 on a saving throw.

“Get the gear,” the leader of the Golden Army barked. One of the guys—a muscular dude with short black hair—opened a duffel bag and tossed something onto the table. Golden jerseys.

“What... what are you doing?” Scott’s voice cracked as the jerseys landed in front of us. They shimmered in the light, catching my eye with an almost hypnotic glow.

“You’re gonna suit up,” another one of them said, smirking. “Or we’ll make you.”

I felt a strange urge as I reached for the jersey in front of me. My mind screamed no, but my body acted on autopilot. I slipped off my button down and pulled the golden jersey over my head. The moment it touched my skin, I felt a jolt—like electricity coursing through my veins.

The room began to spin. My body... it didn’t feel like mine anymore. The tight fabric hugged my chest, arms, and stomach, and I realized I was growing. My muscles were expanding, filling out the jersey as if I had spent years in the gym. My scrawny arms were now thick and solid, and my legs... they bulged with muscle. I could feel power surging through me.

“What the... what’s happening?” I gasped, looking down at my arms in disbelief. My voice sounded deeper, more authoritative.

“You’re part of the Golden Army now,” the leader smirked, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “We’re training for the championship.”

“Championship? What... sport?” Eric asked, his voice thick with confusion.

The leader smirked. “Football.”

I blinked. Football? I hadn’t played since high school, and even then, I was a benchwarmer for the JV team. I never even made it onto the field. But now, standing in this new body, it felt... right. Like I could take on anyone. Like I was born to play.

“I... I don’t know anything about football,” Joey muttered, but even as he said it, I could tell his hands itched to throw a pass. My body was already anticipating the rush of the game. My mind was trying to resist, but it was like the jersey was seeping into my thoughts. Changing me.

“You will,” the leader said, tossing us a football. “Golden Army doesn’t lose. The brocess make sure of that.”

The transformation wasn’t just physical. It was mental, too. As my body transformed, so did my mind. At first, it was subtle—just a heightened awareness of my surroundings, a sharper focus. But then, new thoughts and feelings began to flood in. I started thinking about football in ways I never had before. Plays, tactics, strategies—things I barely understood a few minutes ago suddenly made perfect sense.

The old me was fading away, and in his place, a new Ryan was emerging. This new version of me *knew* how to play football. I could picture myself on the field, reading defenses, making quick decisions, anticipating the moves of the other team. It felt as natural as breathing, like I had been doing it my whole life. The Golden Army had imprinted these skills and knowledge into my brain, reshaping my very identity.

I glanced around the room, watching as the same thing happened to my friends. Scott’s face, once sharp and angular, was now broader, his jawline square and strong. His glasses had been discarded, replaced by eyes that gleamed with a newfound confidence. He flexed his arms, grinning, clearly enjoying his new muscular form. His mind had changed too—I could see it in the way he held the football, like he already knew he was the leader on the field, our quarterback.

Joey, who had always been shy and soft-spoken, was now looking at his reflection in the window, grinning at the sight of his bulked-up body. His usual slouch was gone, replaced by a straight-backed stance that radiated self-assurance. His fingers twitched as if he was itching to catch a pass or make a play. He looked over at us and smirked, as if he had always been a part of this, always belonged here.

Derek, the smallest of us, was perhaps the most drastic transformation. He had gone from being the least athletic among us to one of the most intimidating. His shoulders had broadened, his neck thickened, and his arms were massive now, bulging with muscle that strained against the golden jersey. His usual timid expression was gone, replaced by a fierce determination. I could tell that the mental shift had been even stronger for him. The Derek I knew was quiet, bookish—but now, there was fire in his eyes. He looked ready to bulldoze through anyone in his way.

Even Eric, our Dungeon Master, was no longer the same. The intellectual intensity he’d always carried was still there, but it was tempered with an aggressive edge. His muscles were as big as the rest of ours, and I could see the gears turning in his head, already calculating plays and strategies for our new team.

And me... well, I was fully immersed in this new identity now. The Golden Army had done more than just change my body; they had rewired my brain. My old memories—of late nights rolling dice, debating over character stats—felt distant, like a dream fading in the morning light. In their place were new memories, new desires. The thrill of competition, the rush of adrenaline on the field, the camaraderie of my team—it all felt real, immediate, and, more importantly, right.

I could feel the old Ryan—the one who would rather hide behind a character sheet than step onto a field—slipping away. In his place was a new version of me. Someone who thrived on strength, speed, and competition. Someone who wanted to win, not just in a game of fantasy but in real life. The football field wasn’t just a new battlefield; it was where I belonged.

“Ready to crush it, man?” Scott asked, tossing the football to me.

I caught it effortlessly, my reflexes sharp, my hands steady. The old Ryan would’ve fumbled it, too shocked by everything that had just happened. But the new me? I was ready. I grinned, feeling a surge of confidence I had never known before.

���Yeah,” I said, my voice deeper and more assured. “Let’s go win this thing.”

We weren’t just a bunch of nerds anymore. We were the Golden Army. And there were more nerds waiting to be brocessed.

[b33zlebubz]

RECKLESS ABANDON--------

CHAPTER THREE - some faces are friendlier than others.

TASK FORCE 141 X READER (PLATONIC)

PREV CHAPTER || MASTERLIST || AO3 LINK || NEXT CHAPTER

TAGS: gender neutral reader, angst, fluff, slow burn found family, PTSD, trauma bonding, kidnapping, reader is a foster kid in high school, family drama, blood, violence, guns

"After your life falls apart at the seams very early on, you work hard to keep the small amount of peace you still have. Foster care is rough, work is draining, school is a drag...but you eventually find yourself in a good place. All of that quickly goes to waste, however, when your family's unfinished business finally finds its way back to you."

Fluorescent lights, you've come to realize, might be the lowest layer of hell.  Lower than high school and broken noses and every other unpleasant thing you've experienced thus far in your short life.

The low buzz and flicker of the sterile fixtures above your head seemed to follow you everywhere; almost mocking you.  They were there years ago in the hospital as you held bloodied newspapers up to your disfigured nose, watching the nurses talk to your social worker about what to do with you—then again at your first time working a full nightshift at the gas station down the street.  They were there at every adoption party growing up as you stood in the corner, awkwardly shuffling your feet as you—begrudgingly—introduced yourself to every adult that approached you.  Every school you attended, every clinic, hospital, and residency had them; lights sent from hell to assault your eyes specifically.

Even now, as you shoot upright in the spare dorm-like room Price supplied you with, the fixtures are above your head.  The only difference is that this time, they’re off.  Your brain swims, your breathing tight and fleeting as you grasp the fabric of your sweater in attempts to calm your raging heart.  When that doesn’t work, you throw the covers off and stumble for the door.   Cold, bare feet hitting the linoleum as shaky hands fumble through the dark for the bathroom doorknob.  When you finally get inside, you retch into the sink.

Everything between arriving at your house two days ago and ending up here is a blur.

You don’t leave your room much after the talk with Price—fully content to just sleep the days and nights away until the nightmares took hold.  You only wake up whenever Price knocks on your door and coasts you out to show you around.

You don't know what to think about him---not yet---but you're pretty sure he's safe.  He's painfully British; with thick facial hair framing his face and the faint smell of cigar smoke lingering on his fatigues when you open the door.  Unlike the others you've seen hanging around, always looking very official in pristine business-casual wear or covered head to toe in gear, he has a worn hat that never leaves his head.

He shows you the basics, introducing you to his colleagues around the building and making conversation as you walk.

The bathroom is down the hall, dining facility is downstairs, medical wing on the first floor, the common areas, Laswell’s office, and Price’s office…you can’t say you were able to pay much attention.

Not when that huge, skull-masked Lieutenant is in the same room as you for some of it.

It's then that you learn his name.

"Ghost?"  You question, raising an eyebrow.  You watch the man in question—looking utterly out of place as he slides over to sit with a few others at a table nearby.  He's dressed casually in a black jacket and dark tactical pants; but the balaclava and mask still remain. 

Price places a hand on your shoulder.

"Ghost, Soap…"  he nods towards the Scot you recognize from the day before.  He looks a bit more approachable than his masked counterpart, at least—poking fun at the Lieutenant next to him.  There's a thick bandage around his forearm where you bit him yesterday.

Then, Price gestures to the only one you haven't met yet.  "...And Gaz.”

The man is already looking at you when you meet his gaze, but he quickly glances away again, distracted by Soap who claps a hand to his shoulder.  Whatever he says must be funny, because Gaz laughs and shakes his head, distracted.

"Weird names," you remark, and that earns a chuckle from the captain.

"Callsigns," he replies.  "Nicknames, basically.  Stick around long enough you might earn one yourself…but let's hope not."

You nod.  Your hand comes up to once again brush at the cold dog tags around your neck. "Right.  Yeah, let's hope not."

"You'll be spending a lotta time with 'em for now, probably," Price says, tugging at the brim of his hat as he continues walking, briefly catching your gaze.  "So, I suggest you get used to 'em."

A knot of dread forms in your stomach at his statement.  You glance behind you as you walk—eyes locked on the skull mask.  Again, your head reels with the memory of yesterday.  Gunshots.  Yelling.  Blood on your sneakers.

Blood, blood, blood.

You swallow heavily, "Even Ghost?"

You're sure your unease isn't lost on Price from the way he looks at you.  He places a sympathetic hand on your shoulder, giving it a couple pats as he guides you along with an affirmative nod.  

“Yes,” he says.  "Even Ghost."

The thought makes your mind uneasy.  You swear your heart hasn’t stopped jackrabbiting in your chest since you left your house.  It feels like you should be running, fighting, escaping—something—but instead you find yourself barely leaving your bed.  Your hands itch for your phone to distract yourself but, alas, the only thing Price left you with is your blood-splattered sneakers which sit in the corner.  For good reason, you suppose.

You spend hours staring at the light fixtures above your head in the spare bunk, thinking about everything in your life that's led you up to this point; your father's lies, endless adoption papers, letters, and bright fluorescent lights.  Everything and nothing all at once.  When you finally get to sleep, that's when you find yourself jolting awake at night and stumbling to the bathroom.

When the gagging finally calms, you stand there.  Clammy hands grip the edges of the sink as you breathe—in and out—and swallow back the bitter bile that sticks to your throat.  In your panic, you never even bothered to turn on the lights, and your eyes shine as you make eye contact with your reflection in the dark, dingy mirror.  Light spills in from the hallway behind you, casting a halo of light on your frazzled hair.

Ugh.  You look awful; your bruised eye swollen and irritated again from tossing and turning. The skin on your arms and face is still rubbed raw from viciously scrubbing the blood off in the shower days ago, and you still didn't feel clean. Dried tears streak your face from crying in your sleep.  The thought alone of someone seeing you like this is enough for you to steal yourself.  You take a shaky breath in before letting it out, and you switch on the sink to wash your vomit down the drain.  While you’re at it, numb hands cup the freezing running water before splashing some onto your face, and you stare at yourself for a little while—acquainting yourself with the reality that yes.  This is happening.  Your father faked his death before dying again and now there’s people after you; the man with the scar on his face, you assume, and maybe others.  No, you don’t know the code that Price mentioned and no—you don’t know what’s going on.

You swallow again.

It is what it is.

The dog tags glint against the low light as you turn the faucet off.

Your breathing settled and your heart rate calmed, you're left with a shakiness that comes with the lack of adrenaline.  You lean against the sink for a moment, basking in the silence as the last of your nightmare fades.  You're so lost in thought that the sound of shuffling and low voices in the hallway are almost, almost lost on you.

"It was supposed to be a quiet mission for a reason."

Price's voice can be heard, muffled, down the hall—and you freeze slightly.

"Yeah, well…you can thank the Shadows for that one."  Another, deeper, British accent replies.  One that makes the hairs on your neck prickle.  "'Mission was to extract the kid.  That's it.  If Johnny didn't shoot first, Graves would've.  And we both know how that would've ended."

Price sighs tiredly in response, their voices growing closer as they turn the corner.  You can almost picture him running a hand down his face as he does, the other on his hip.  Then, their footsteps stop a little ways down the hall.

"'Suppose you're right," he says.  "Just…try not to scare 'em too bad.  You know Sparky would want—"

"Yeah…I know," Ghost grunts back, interrupting.  "No promises."

A moment passes. 

There's an unspoken goodbye before you hear footsteps fading off again, signaling one of them has left.  You take a breath and wipe your face before stepping out into the hallway.  You feel his gaze flicker to you as you cross the threshold and pretend not to notice him.  Shaky hands fumble with the doorknob.

It feels eerily similar to the first time you both met.  When he effortlessly killed two men, splattered the blood on you, and then turned around so nonchalantly and asked—

"You good?"  

You freeze up.  Finally, you turn to look at him.

He's not wearing the mask.  Not the skull one, at least, and it works to ease your nerves a little.  The fact that you can see an eyebrow rise at you through a balaclava helps you remember that he is—somehow—human.  A human with a plastic water bottle, a pack of cigarettes, and a lighter in his hand with no gun in sight.

You wipe your face again.  Your throat is tight as you speak, as if you've forgotten how to do it altogether, "peachy."

He huffs a breath at your sarcasm, but he doesn't press further.  

"Good," he says.  "'Cause it looks like you've seen a ghost."

You scoff, "you're not funny."

He shifts and tosses you the water bottle in his hand.  You flinch and just barely manage to catch it by the cap.  Then, confused by the gesture, you look back up at him.

"Keep your head up, kid," he says, the subtle softness of his tone not lost on you—although it seems completely foreign.  "'Cause, with the way things are lookin', it'll get worse before it gets better."

It's strange and cryptic.  Your heart lodges in your throat from the strange advice as you lower your brow at him.  "What does?"

"The blood."

You let out a shaky breath, looking away.   "That's hardly comforting."

A moment passes where he just looks at you.  You're unsure what he sees; other than a pathetic, disheveled teenager who just finished dry heaving into a public bathroom sink over a stupid nightmare.  You feel uncomfortable—like he's reading your thoughts, or maybe he's just amused that you're scared of him.  You’re unsure.

"Maybe not," he shrugs and finally looks away, unlocking his door.  "But it's the truth."

You swallow down your unease as you look down at the water bottle.  

A part of you knows he’s right.  Whatever your father got himself tangled up in—it involved you now.  You were being chased and if there was anything you knew about how these stories went; someone was going to end up dead.  Sulking wasn’t going to get you answers, and it certainly wasn’t going to help you going forwards.  You had no idea how the people in the movies, comics, video games, and TV shows always seemed so put-together.  How they—Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, and your father—managed to sleep at night with what they did.  What they saw.

"Does it get easier?"  You ask, for some reason.   Your voice is quiet.  Strained.  

Ghost seems caught off guard by the question, because he hesitates in his doorway—a gloved hand resting on the doorknob.  He doesn’t look at you, not really, and you don’t look at him.  You can hear the rain tapping against the window at the end of the hall and the sound of thunder rumbling across the sky above.  You figure he can read minds, because he seems to completely understand what you’re asking without needing to explain much.

“If you’ve seen enough,” he finally speaks.  “Yes ... you do get used to it.”

A moment passes before he shifts and looks at you again. 

“But try not to," he adds. "Your old man didn’t die just for you to get screwed up like the rest of us.”

And, with that, he steps into his quarters and shuts the door behind him, leaving you alone in the sterile hallway.  Fluorescent lights flicker above your head.

@brokenpieces-72 @warenai @karurururu @pertinentpostmortem @kaoyamamegami @hayleybarnesx @nostalgialeech

[purplelupins]

Losers Weepers

|Robocop|

Rick Mattox/ fem!reader

Summery: Working along side Dr. Norton had its perks…having to deal with a very cocky older man was not one of them. Mattox scared you, to put it lightly. He was blunt and handsome and harsh and a timid little thing like you didn’t know how to deal with that.

MINORS YOU KNOW THE DRILL THIS IS NOT FOR YOU

Warnings: smut, dub-con, age gap (reader is in her 20’s-early 30’s, mattox is early 50’s) , lowkey manipulation…maybe not that lowkey, pet names, mention of the word daddy but used as a kink, over stimulation, multiple orgasms, sex in work place,

Notes: yea yea I’m obsessed with Jackie let me just ride this out.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“As you can see his control and problem solving abilities have greatly improved since enhancing his software and multiplying the- please don’t touch that.” Dr. Dennett Norton halted his explanation and turned his attention to a man who looked to be much more interested in pressing the buttons on the main console to his left.

Rick Mattox was just about to poke at one of the display screens as he drowned out the words of the doctor. What with him only being there as a formality and not necessity, he couldn’t care less about what the kook said.

Dr. Norton had been so engrossed in getting each piece of information clear and concise that he didn’t notice the gruff man losing interest. Your panicked expression had been what alerted him; he was always glancing your way as if to ensure that he had your attention.

Dr. Norton adored your attention.

Mattox scoffed and peered through the glass at Alex…”Robocop”, who sat stationary and plugged in.

“What’s it gonna do, Doc? Make Tin-Man catch on fire?” He antagonized.

Norton rolled his eyes.

“If you tap the right sequence it’ll pump him with synthetic fluids for cooling.” You piped up, from just a few feet away from Mattox, and internally smacked yourself when each head turned to you. The older man that your boss had reprimanded was staring at you with a brow raised, “Um…b-but there’s nothing hooked up to the tubes…so he would have pressurized air forced into him…which would…well…make him explode.” You trailed off, staring down at your clipboard that had more doodles than information.

A beat of silence passed and he finally stepped away from the console and unfortunately closer to you.

“Well we can’t have that can we, princess?” Mattox said, a smirk sitting comfortably in the corner of his mouth. Your eyes widened and you refused to look up, pretending to not have heard his statement. The pet name made your skin warm and you were certainly not sure if you liked that.

“Let’s continue, shall we?” The Doctor sighed, and sent you an apologetic, small smile as he regained the room’s attention.

He continued, and you felt yourself start to glance at the notes you had as Norton’s voice filled the room. It wasn’t that you weren’t interested in what he had to say, it was simply that you had listened to his speech for two days to help him get every detail into it that was needed for Sellars and his entourage. Normally it would just be a few of his assistants to come and listen to any updates, but Sellars had insisted on attending…which always made things more tense.

When you looked up you caught the doctor’s eye, and you noticed the smallest upturn of his mouth, and returned it. Norton was a sweet man, and a genius one, too. You couldn’t have found a better mentor to guide you through such a project while you were barely out of school. He was patient and passionate, and knew how to light a fire under your ass.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Mattox glance over at you as he stood as solid as ever, arms crossed and still in his tactical gear. You wondered just how comfortable it was to wear a utility belt and combat boots all day…

He frightened you, to put it simply. He was blunt and skilled in every area you were not. Hell you were certain one punch from him would knock you out cold for a few days. You’d only met him once before, and you had tried to hide behind Dr. Norton the entire time as they chastised and argued over robot versus man. Sadly your attempt to hide had only amused the gruff man further.

“Afraid of the big bad wolf?” He had said to you during a break in the argument.

You had frozen.

To come to your defence, Norton had waved his hand, “Leave her out of this and spare her your ridicule.” He had said.

But when you had chanced a look up at the man from your control board, he was looking right at you with mirth in his bright blue eyes and a smirk pulling into his stubble. He was handsome. And he had no boundaries. And you didn’t know how to deal with either-

“You wear that for me, sweetheart?”

That rough voice near your shoulder made you jump, and snapped you out of your memory. When you looked to your left, Mattox was looking ahead, and you hoped you had imagined him saying anything, but then he looked back at you and leaned slightly in your direction which made you squirm.

“Like your hair pulled back like that too.” He rumbled, “Looks pretty.”

So he did say that-

You blushed at the thought of him looking at what you were wearing.

Of course, you knew he was only flirting to egg you on; he thought you getting flustered was funny. Truthful or not, however, you did note that he was the only one to actually notice your new dress.

But he was probably just bored.

So you ground you teeth and didn’t look up.

“Aw you wound me-“

“Mr. Mattox? Care to share with the room what it is that has you so distracted?” Dr. Norton stood with his hands in his trouser pockets, and a tired expression. You felt terrible that rhe interruption was very partially your fault- you were certain he hadn’t slept in a couple days and he didn’t need this extra stress.

“Can’t say I’ve ever been one to share, Doc.” He shot back quicker than you thought he would. At his comment, you felt yourself flush completely; warmth spread over your face and down your neck at his insinuation.

Norton sighed tensely and turned back to Stellers, “In three days, we will be holding an other test with Mr. Mattox back there, and Alex, if you would like us to patch through a feed. Aside from that, this concludes our progress unless Ms. L/n would like to add anything?” He pointed the question to you in a far gentler tone, and you finally looked up.

You shook your head.

“No, Dr. Norton, I believe you covered everything.” You said softly. You hated presentations. Too many people and too much stress.

“Good. Well then, that’s it then.” He concluded and opened the lab door.

The room slowly emptied and you took your place back at your desk where you gladly made yourself look busy until everyone was out. Especially Mattox.

You saw the man in question look over at you as he headed to the door, just passing Norton. Then he stopped.

Rick paused once he reached Dr. Norton, was the last to be out the door.

He leaned in closer to him.

“Does your little mouse know you wanna perform a few experiments of your own on her?” He spoke quietly, and nodded in your direction.

Norton visibly blanched. “I don’t know what you mean. It would do you some good to watch that mouth of yours.” He snapped.

“Just a question Doc.” Rick said and raised a hand in faux defense, as if he cared if the other man was offended.

Mattox left and while you couldn’t hear what they had said, you felt a knot in your tummy as the possibility that they might have been talking about you. You had seen the jaded older man nod in your direction…

“You alright, Dennett?” You asked timidly as Norton came back towards you.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes under his glasses.

You were so sweet and gentle. Wouldn’t hurt a fly and smart. He felt horribly guilty thinking less than pure thoughts about you; he knew you saw him in purely a professional capacity. A father almost. He was nauseated by that man’s words and how vulnerable they made him. Was he so obvious in how he felt?

The man nodded and tugged on his tie, “Just fine.” Then he turned to you and softened his expression when he saw your mouth in a flat line, “I apologize…I’m alright. Don’t worry about this old man. Tell me about any progress you’ve made.” He sent you a very small, reassuring smile, and that was enough for you; you smiled slightly in return.

As Norton settled beside you, you prattled off the few advances that had been made, and didn’t notice the longing gaze the man beside you gave you. You never did.

The next day, you were feeling off. You had spilled your coffee on your work pants as you were leaving and were forced to change into the only other thing you had clean- a dress; you had missed your bus, and almost smacked into the lab room door when you forgot the sensor was out and had to be opened manually.

After nearly ten minutes of deep breaths, you sat at your usual perch in the lab, and engrossed yourself in reading a new stats form. Norton had come and gone, said a few things to you and you had barely registered them. However, you failed to hear your name being called since your mind was completely shut off to anything exterior.

The snapping of fingers in front of your face was the only thing that alerted you of someone’s presence.

“There you are, I was calling you.” It was Jae- another scientist you worked along side. You liked her.

“Sorry- I um…I was- doesn’t matter.” You tried to explain what you had been doing but your stressed mind couldn’t be unfrazzled.

“That’s fine. Where’s Norton? We need him to brief Mattox on the next training program.” She waved off your failed explanation.

You thought back to an hour ago when you had mumbled a reply to something he had said, “I think he had to go see Sellars.”

She sighed, “Alright…you’ll have to do it then. He’s waiting down in the corner lab 65A- at the end.” She said nonchalantly, clearly unaware of how distressed her words made you.

Your heart rate picked up significantly and your palms began to sweat at the idea of seeing that man, let alone with no one to buffer his direct nature.

Your eyes darted around and you frantically tried to think of a solution.

“H-he should be back soon I can page him-“

“No, no it needs to be done asap. Norton might not be back until tonight and we can’t wait that long- the run through is in two days.” She said, then left you there in silence.

You couldn’t feel your fingers. You would have sat there for far longer but in an attempt to manage your anxiety you had started carrying out tasks you didn’t want to do faster rather than putting them off. You had read it in some article and you hated that it worked most days.

So you sucked in a breath, shrugged on your lab coat like armour, and began your way down the hall. It was a quiet part of the floor, and was used only for training. You had heard that the last session hadn’t gone very well for Mattox, and he was hellbent on getting another crack at it. At least that was what you had been told.

The door to Lab 65A came far too quickly for your liking. Your hairs stood on end when you went to knock on the door out of habit. But just at your knuckles went to fall, you stopped; this was your space, you didn’t need to knock.

After a moment’s hesitation, you opened the door and immediately were bombarded with that voice you tried to pretend you hated.

“Let’s get this over with quickly so you can get back that lit-…Well isn’t this just my lucky day,” Rick turned from his place in front of the dim console to see you, and he paused in pleasant surprise, “Have a change of heart there kiddo?” He asked smugly as he leaned back against the board, and crossed his arms- the fabric pulling tight.

You steeled your nerves and began to walk over to where he was against one of the control panels. “Dr. Norton is unavailable right now.” You managed to say calmly, coming to his side to pull up the information he needed. You put in your access codes and began selecting to correct files for him.

“So I’m in your soft capable hands?” He goaded you, probably laughing internally.

You sighed and chose to ignore him again, “These two programs will run what your bots will experience versus what Alex will with the new updates to him…should give you a better idea of how he problem solves and uses critical thinking to outsmart the other technology.” You started, and pointed to the screens. Some played the last run through in China, while others played the simulation from weeks ago.

For the entirety of your explanation, Mattox had remained leaning away from the screens, and focused on you. It make you highly uneasy. Something about his bright blue eyes made it difficult to look at him- for a man like him you would have imagined him to have eyes as black as coals…but instead he had pools of glacier water. They were startling. As was his undying confidence.

You saw him stand straight, and walk behind you out of your vision. “Mhm.” He hummed. You assumed he was taking a few steps back to get a better view of what was playing on the viewing screens.

Good at least he’s finally paying attention…

You continued, showing him the different programs he could run and the reports on the changes that had been made.

“- so if you think he’s reacting more mechanically, and similar to your bots, you’ll be correct. We’ve implan-“

You were stopped in the middle of your rant when you felt a pair of warm hands on your hips, moving your lab coat out of the way.

“What do you…” you tried, but your brain seemed to shut down at the contact.

There was warm breath on the back of your neck, “Shh…shh keep going…” you heard whispered from behind you.

You blinked and forced yourself to take some shallow breaths.

“U-um if an-anything lags or uh -doesn’t make sense…just-“ you tried, but then your coat was being slipped off your shoulders and the cool air hit you.

Mattox’s hands returned to your hips, bunching up the skirt of it and balling up the material into his fists, “-just um…r-reboot it. Sir what are you doing?” You forced out all in a rush as your mind tried to play catch-up with what you were seeing and feeling. The older man now had your dress’s skirt completely in his hands and he moved it out of the way for him to hold you, leaving you utterly exposed to him in just your panties.

“You want me to stop, Princess?” His breath was against your bare neck, and you felt his rough hands squeeze your hips, smoothing a hand over your left one to descend to the top of your panties. Just stroking a finger along the edge but going no further.

You forced out another breath, hands immobile and suspended in the air where you had been typing. You could only watch as he felt you and touched, unsure if you were actually just daydreaming and still sitting back at your desk in the main lab.

Mattox sighed in your ear.

“You don’t like me do you?” He asked offhandedly.

You swallowed, and felt your head start to pound when you forgot to breathe. “I-I- don’t-um…I’m i-indiff-erent-“ you stuttered out. Words jumbled together and you could almost feel your pride disappearing the more you tried to salvage your dignity.

The older man hummed, and the vibrations buzzed through his chest against your back and made you feel faint. “Do I scare you?” He whispered.

You wanted to disappear, get swallowed up by the earth. You could barely hear what he was saying over the rush of blood in your ears, but somehow your body made you nod shakily.

“Tell me why.” He prompted. It wasn’t goading or mocking…he sounded calm.

Which, you decided, scared you even more.

“Y-youre blunt and crass a-and forward and cocky and I-I don’t know what to do with that.” You breathed out all in a rush. Your fight or flight was kicking your brain to do something, anything, but you couldn’t move. He had managed to find something small in you that allowed him to sink his teeth into and pin you to the spot.

“You don’t know what to do with that?” Mattox rolled your statement over in his head, musing. “Well you’re quiet, tightly wound, and fucking adorable…and I think I know a few things I can do with that.” He purred in your ear, and this time he did sound rather condescending.

You could feel your breaths coming in shallow bursts as he continued to squeeze you bare hips- reminding you that he had you where he wanted you.

The older man sighed as if deep in thought, and ran a finger down the curve of your neck, speaking right against your skin so you could feel each word.

“I think you want me to touch you…don’t you?” He mused, “Just a little?” Rick wouldn’t normally work so patiently to get you, but he needed to break you down; you were like some little scared animal.

When you didn’t push him away, Mattox smirked against your skin and he ran his nose up along your neck. He could practically taste you with how much of a mess you were making without even touching you. After a moment of keeping you hanging by a thread, the older man eased his hand over your panties and ran a finger up at down your slit to your clit, and if it weren’t for his strong arm around you, you would have buckled and fallen to the floor.

He barked out a laugh at you losing your balance.

“That’s it, that’s it…Shh there you go. I got you.” Came his surprisingly soft voice from behind you. He chuckled, tightening his hold on you to bring you right against his sturdy frame as he continued to play with you. You felt your hips twitch into his palm which made you gasp involuntarily…then he was gone, and you whimpered at the loss.

The sound was so small but in the quiet room there was no hiding it. Just as you were about to turn around to see where he went, Mattox’s hand gripped your arm and began tugging you to the console where he wordlessly guided you to sit atop the screen while he took a seat, and spread your legs. You instinctively went to snap them shut, but he gave you a stern smack on the knee.

“Let me see you, babygirl.” He murmured with a slight rasp to his voice, “I just wanna look at you.” His bright eyes stared up at you, hungry.

Your brain was fighting hard to find something to snap you back from this daze he had spun you into, but there was nothing for it to grab onto. You were gone; so you gave in to your helplessness, and gathered your dress back up and bunched it around your hips like he had.

He heaved a sigh and shook his head, tsking you.

You felt fear soar through you at his reaction.

“Look at what a mess you made…you’re soaked…surprised you didn’t make a goddamn puddle on the floor.” He chastised you; you squirmed and looked away from his unwavering gaze, but his one firm hand on your knee stopped you immediately, forcing your thighs to spread. “Ah ah ah. Don’t even think about it.” He shook his head.

You whined and looked away.

“Sir I r-really dont th-“

You were cut off when one of the seams from your panties was torn clean in half. You stared down in disbelief.

He looked up at you innocently, “I’m sorry were you talking?”

Your lips parted but no sound came out. So you shook your head.

“Good girl.” He praised you and you would never admit how lightheaded it made you. Mattox ripped the other seam and tugged the panties from under you and shot you a wink as he pocketed them into his tactical pants. Something issued to him to serve and protect yet he was wearing them as he rendered you into a needy shell of yourself.

The older man then gripped your hips again and guided you into his lap and leaned back in the chair lazily; his hand stroking circles on the top of your thigh, dipping low. He sighed, taking pleasure in pretending like he wasn’t reducing you to a mindless toy in mere minutes. “Now what am I gonna do with you, hmm?” He thought out loud to himself.

An idea struck him and he held your gaze.

“Eyes on me.” He rasped, then your felt his hand slip down and disappear for a moment before the feeling of his finger stroking through your folds jolted you. You gasped and looked down to see him toying with you but he snapped his fingers in your face and you immediately looked up. “You can do better than that.” He told you and you couldn’t understand why you felt the need to prove to him that you could.

You swallowed and nodded.

“Let’s do that again, but this time do better, okay?” He spoke to you like you were so stupid…so small, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Mattox ran his finger through your slick again, and nodded when you kept your eyes locked on his. He smirked when he dipped his thick finger just barely inside you, and your lids got heavy and your lips parted in a silent gasp.

“You like that?” He cooed, running his wet finger up to your clit where he drew small circles around it.

You nodded, not daring to look away.

But then the man slipped his thick finger inside you to the knuckle and you fell forward against his chest; your head in his neck and your hips rolled into his palm. He hadn’t even started pumping in and out of you yet.

“Jesus you’re a needy little thing aren’t you?” He chuckled, but began a slow pace, easing his finger in and out of you steadily. He didn’t seem to mind that you couldn’t sit up.

The drag of his calloused fingers deep inside you had your muscles tensing and you twitched against him. Your fingers gabbed at his shirt, his smell overwhelming you and making your head dizzy.

Then he added a second, and curled them inside you and you choked out a sob into his shirt. Your little hands gripped him tight, rocking down onto his fingers in tandem with his ministrations. Your skin felt as if it was on fire and all you could hear were his words in your ears as the world faded away; as the heat inside you built and built until it was white hot and it snapped. There was no hiding how tightly you clenched around his fingers, he could barely keep them in your cunt from how tight you became- almost forcing them out. You cried into his neck, gasping and whining as you came on his hand after only two minutes.

You could hear him laugh,“Look at that, did you cum for me already? That easy, huh?”

You couldn’t even defend yourself. You hadn’t been touched by anyone since an office Christmas party two years ago and some delivery guy felt you up under the mistletoe. And Rick Mattox certainly knew what he was doing more than him.

Mattox gripped your hair and pulled you away from his shoulder. His bright blue eyes stared you down, almost carelessly.

“When was the last time someone fucked you?” He asked so bluntly as he sucked off your cum from his fingers, and began unbuckling his heavy belt.

“Um…I don’t…I don’t remember.” You answered truthfully.

He smirked again, “Thought so.” He effortlessly pulled his cock from his tactical pants with his free hand, and began stroking it; the head leaked precum all over his fingers and some leaked onto your dress. He was certainly not small, and most defiantly bigger than what you had had in the past; a length that you knew would burn the next day, and startlingly thick. The wet sound of him made you blush even more.

Mattox leaned you away and stared down at your soaked entrance as he ran the tip of his cock through you just as he had done with his fingers. You whined and pawed at him, trying to stay as still as you could lest he stop. He swirled the head around your clit, then just around the outside of your hole, dipping inside just barely when you started to get extra needy; trying to buck your hips to get him inside you, which he took great satisfaction in.

Mattox released your hair and brought his thumb down to explose your clit; he rolled his finger around it and you wanted to squirm away from the touch, still being too oversensitive from your orgasm, but you didn’t dare.

“Fuck…” he rasped under his breath. He spat onto your clit, and stroked just around the outside, teasing you to tears. Your fingers dug into his strong shoulders.

“I- please.” You whispered desperately. You could handle him stopping, but with this point of neither fucking you nor leaving you alone had you reduced to a needy little puppy.

Then, without much warning at all, Mattox thrust up and forced the first two inches of his fat cock inside you. You felt the air evaporate from your lungs as he shushed you, “There you go…that’s it. You can do it.”

He now gripped both of your hips, and watched his cock disappear inside you- a bulge forming in your naval.

Your brows pitched up as you tried to hold still, but you couldn’t help the twitch of your hips as he stretched you. You whined and hung your head as he bottomed out, the swollen tip firmly squished against your cervix.

Then he began to rock, barely guiding you to pull off of him. A filthy roll of his hips up into you as he ground his cock inside your sensitive cunt. The veins along his cock stroked your gspot brutally each time and you could barely keep your cries to a minimum.

“Christ you make pretty sounds, princess.” He breathed out in a satisfied rasp. He took one hand from your hip and brought it up to your cheek where he pressed his thumb against your lower lip and pushed down. You opened your mouth willingly, and sucked his offered thumb between your lips. You moaned around it and felt your eyes go glassy and unfocused as pleasure took over. You didn’t even notice how your body began to move with his. Not until your legs began to shake again and your pace began to stutter; increasing until you were leaning forward to rest your forehead against his as you held his wrist to keep his thumb in your mouth, and rode him desperately.

He wrenched his thumb from your lips and weaved the hand into your hair to get a firm grip before pulling you in against him tightly like before and sealed his lips over yours- his tongue eagerly tasting you. Licking into your mouth and sucking at your swollen lips.

The warmth of his mouth and scorching cock inside you made you dizzy, your mind slipping away until you could only feel him. He was invading all your senses.

You could feel yourself grow more and more sensitive which each second, your skin was hyper aware of every touch and breath.

He pulled from your lips away, and dipped his head to suck at your neck, which you tried to stop since you had nothing to hide any marks with, but he just grabbed your hand in an iron grip and continued effortlessly.

“You wanna cum for me again?” He murmured, rolling his hips harder, his tummy grinding against your clit, “You can do it…Cmon one more. You’re almost there.”

Mattox’s words hung heavy in your ears and his cock bullied your gspot again and again as he continued his filthy grind , until you couldn’t take it anymore, and you let go. A cry tore from your throat and a hand clamped over to your mouth to muffle the sound; you arched your back and somewhere in the back of your mind you felt him rip your dress’s neck down and latch onto one of your breasts, rolling your nipple with his tongue like a candy.

You felt a flood of liquid on your naval, but you barely registered it until you began to catch your breath, sagging against the older man beneath you. He continued a slow roll of his hips into you. You finally pulled away from him, and looked down between you, and he followed you gaze.

Your mouth gaped when you realized what had happened.

“What’s wrong? Never squirted before, kiddo?” He breathed out, throat starting to strain as he got closer to cumming in your young body.

You shook your head and began to breathe heavier as he fucked into your sensitive cunt.

He smirked and released you, then grabbed the hem of his now soaked shirt and brought it up to his mouth where he sucked; your lips parted in a silent gasp, and your forgot to breathe when you watched him taste you. His strong stomach exposed to you, and you wanted to kiss it, though you’d never admit it.

His hands gripped your hips, rough fingers digging into your flesh possessively. Mattox released the fabric between his lips, and smirked at you as you stared down at his taut skin, and where he entered you.

There was a moment where he paused, and stared at you, which caught your hazy attention. You slowly looked up at his eyes and he released a harsh breath before standing with you and dumping you onto the console; he pushed your thighs up to your chest and hooked your knees over his arms and leaned over you, effectively spreading you wide and rendering you at his mercy as he pumped into your cunt a few times as if to remind you to behave.

You gasped, and clung to his shoulders, feeling his muscles ripple and tense under your fingertips.

Mattox began rutting into you without abandon, his chest pinning you down. You sobbed and flushed with warmth when you felt another orgasm building inside you fast.

And he clearly felt it too. “One more? You spoil me.” He managed to huff, his face buried into your neck as he hunkered over you and started rabbiting into you.

You whimpered as his cock bullied that sensitive spot inside you and his stomach impacted your abused clit. You were already so sensitive, so it only took a few more thrusts before you were cumming for him again. You felt lightheaded and dizzy, and you could barely utter a moan as he bucked into you a few more times before stilling and sucking harshly at your soft neck as he came inside you. Warmth spread inside you; his ropes of thick cum filling you as he rolled his hips into you to ride out his orgasm. His hot breath was in your ear and you could barely think.

You weakly held onto him, and felt him catch his breath, then he heaved a sigh and held you tight before pulling you with him to sit back in the chair. Sweat soaked you, and you didn’t even realise you were clinging to him until he eased you away from being buried in his neck and he held your face far more gently than you would have thought.

“There’s my girl.” He purred, stroking your cheek. There was something dishonest in his face but you couldn’t even recognize it let alone dwell on it. “Look at you…” he mused to himself.

You stared back at him.

“All relaxed and fucked out of your mind…” he grinned, and tucked some hair behind your ear.

You breathed out a weak laugh, and he took satisfaction in how dazed you were. Mattox slowly guided your head down to him, his lips catching yours just barely.

“I think you like me a bit more now Hm? Still scared of me, Princess?” He spoke so quietly, but it was the only noise in the silent room.

You tried to think. You shook your head.

He chuckled and shifted under you, his cock still nestled inside you.

“No? Not so scared of me?” He repeated gar too gently.

You shook your head again, eyes glazed over. “I think I like you more than I should, babygirl. Guys like me aren’t supposed to like girls like you.”

You pulled away a couple inches and felt concern flood your features.

He sighed and elaborated.

“I could be your daddy, honey…a bit old for you, don’t you think?” He cooed, clearly not believing a word he said.

You worried your lip and he smiled, and pulled it from your teeth with his thumb.

“No, you don’t care that I’m an old fuck? Hm? Bet you even like it.” He tilted his head as he spoke, almost thinking. You looked away, and felt yourself blush again, a little embarrassed.

“Awe look at you. I’m just fucking with you, Cmere.” He inclined his head and guided your lips to his. You weakly moaned and he held you tight and his tongue entered your mouth, tasting you. You were embarrassed when your hips started rocking again, almost a reflex, but he didn’t appear to have a problem with it.

After a few minutes, he pecked your lips once more then pulled away. Your eyes were sufficient hazy, and he knew you weren’t thinking straight. “Are you my girl?” He cooed once a moment passed.

You nodded your head without even considering what he said.

He smirked and nodded with you. “Yeah you are.”

Mattox told you to wait for him downstairs, and while your senses were slowly returning, you still couldn’t say no. You didn’t even know which way was up and which way was down let alone who you were. The man even made a joke about having to carry you out.

You had hurriedly ran to the staff room on sore legs to get your coat and told someone you were feeling unwell and needed to head home. You knew they were staring, but you couldn’t care. You were just thankful the elevators didn’t take long. You didn’t even notice when you walked past the lab and Norton called your name, and stared after you.

Just a few minutes later, Mattox waltzed into the lab- a satisfied smirk on his face.

“I trust the training programs were to your satisfaction, Mr. Mattox?” Norton asked, without looking up, not that he cared.

“They were a little rusty Doc…I ran some tests of my own. That little assistant of yours was more than willing to help.” He pretended to look around as he walked over to the doctor.

Norton looked up at that. “Y/n?”

He held out a small drive to the man, “Take a look for yourself.” Norton took the drive and stared down at it, confusingly.

There was just one word on it.

Your name.

[chaoticxbeast]

Raph gets a taste of his own medicine part 4

First part. Second part. Third part. Fourth part

Context: Raph is targeted by Hun and forced to fight several waves of purple dragons on his own.

Content: Violence, some humor. Wordcount: 1050

--

The third wave was a group of four experienced purple dragons. Slice and Sparks, Tank, and Bruiser.

Slice was a wiry man with a permanent sneer that twisted his face into something untrustworthy. His hair slicked back, his skin was sickly white, and he had beady eyes that seemed to gleam with malice.

Sparks was a lanky guy, with a green mohawk, wearing camo and cargo pants, with random gear stuffed in his pockets. He also wore small round glasses that reflected the light from the small windows in the gym, making it hard to figure out where his eyes were focused.

Tank was a towering muscular man with a shaved head and scars across his knuckles. Raphael noted the vacant look in his eye, figuring he wasn´t exactly the leader of the group.

Bruiser was a lot like Tank, but with a more focused look upon his face. As if he wasn´t really a bad kind of guy, but just here on duty. He was a hulking man, with a broad jaw, broken nose and cauliflower ears, and he had old bruises all over his arms. Raph grinned up at him in attempt to intimidate him, but Bruiser just stared at him in return, as if to show dominance.

While Raph was the type of fighter that could flow well with chaos and impulsivity, these four had planned their approach. Slice and Sparks moved to flank the turtle, surrounding him, while the other two stayed put. Their tactic was to confuse, intimidate, and distract.

Sparks twirled his weapon, filling the air around them with electricity to confuse Raph´s senses. And Slice made darting movements, feigning attacks with his knives, causing him to feel on edge.

Raph was pissed. He didn’t have his weapons—this was a school night, after all—and the whole fight was beginning to feel unfair and infuriating.

“You know what?” Raph said. “You guys are bullies. This isn’t a fair fight. I don’t even have my weapons!”

“Maybe you should’ve prepared better,” Hun said casually, as if offering helpful advice.

“What? How? How could I have possibly prepared better?”

Suddenly, Tank charged forward with a steel baseball bat. Raph ducked just in time, diving low and locking his arms tightly around Tank’s legs. Using the brute’s weight and momentum against him, Raph held on hard, sending Tank crashing face-first onto the floor with a loud thud.

Tank fell on his face, and Raph got up with a grin on his face, grabbing the metal bat. Now he was feeling better. Raph spun the bat in his hand, and then instantly made a forceful swing at Slice’s face. Slice took the hit and wobbled back, grabbing his face and dropping his knives with a clatter. But before Raph could turn around, Sparks darted in from the side and struck him across the shell with his stun baton.

Raph couldn’t understand what had hit him, and dropped to his knees from the shock coursing through his body.

However, being a mutant, Raph had more durability and strength than most. He got back up on his feet, and turned with a furious growl, eyes blazing with anger, as if the pain triggered something volatile in him. "I’m gonna fucking kill you guys!"

Sparks faltered, bravado fading from his face and Slice laughed, a loud sharp shrilling sound that rubbed Raph the wrong way. Slice elbowed Sparks playfully. "Heehe..Now you’re gonna get it."

Raph waisted no time, and threw the bat full force at Sparks face. Sparks was hit right in the jaw, and fell backwards, knocked out cold. In the flow and completely beserk, Raph grabbed the stun baton and made two chaotic swipes at Slice, who darted out of the way.

And then Bruiser moved. His massive fist came down on Raph´s shell, hitting him like a hammer. Raph lost the baton, dropping on his knees, gritting his teeth through the pain. He was soon up again, and punched Bruiser hard in the lower gut. The turtle then bounced on his feet for a moment, before sending a spinning kick at Bruiser’s face.

Bruiser was down, but Tank was up again, and hit Raph across the plastron with his steel bat, once and twice. Raph coughed, and groaned, and fell on his face. It looked like the fight was over, and Hun walked over to Raph, kneeling down.

"Uh. I guess it’s time." Hun said. "Someone? cut off his finger."

"Well we’re done here." Tank said, hauling up his friends up from the floor. "Cutting off his finger huh, that’s fucked up."

"Well I’m not doing it. I don’t wanna hurt him." Hun said.

That was when Mr.Karma, the guy next to Casey and Angel (On the top row of the bleachers) got up.

"I’ll do it boss."

Casey Jones exchanged a look with Angel, who merely shrugged and got to her feet as well. “I wanna see this,” she muttered.

"Cut off his finger? Why??"

"To pay off my bike, for example. Apparently mutant fingers sell well." Angel replied coldly, and Casey wondered where he had failed.

“You need therapy,” Casey said bluntly. Then, louder: “Actually, you all need therapy!” Without waiting for a response, Casey kicked Mr. Karma in the back, sending him tumbling down the bleachers. “Goongala!”

Mr. Karma, apparently the last one of the fourth wave, hit the floor with a loud crash.

An awkward silence broke out, before several of the purple dragons, began to make their way out of the gym, some limping, and some were scared, knowing just how violent that hockey guy could get.

"Angel? You´re friends with this guy?" Hun asked.

"I don’t know him," She said, glaring at Casey, and stood next to Hun.

"Listen. I’m taking the turtle back out of here. And you better stop doing this..dumbass shit." Casey said, pointing a finger at Hun.

Hun sighed. Actually he just wanted to head home now too. "Whatever. Not like I’m the boss.."

Casey held his hands up for a moment, and made his way to the turtle. He crouched down, poking Raph in the shoulder. "Hey? Buddy. You alive?" Raph made a soft low groan.

"Oh good." Casey grabbed his arm and pulled Raph up from the floor. Raph seemed dazed, but in good shape besides a couple bruises. "Did..Did I kick their butts?" Raph groaned, voice low and hoarse.

"Sure did." Casey patted his strange green face.

"I´m awesome.." Raph grinned weakly. "Who´re you?"

"Name´s Casey. Lets get you out of here."

[starseedfxofficial]

The Williams %R and Three White Soldiers Combo That No One Talks About The Forex trading landscape is a bit like your high school cafeteria—everyone has their favorite hangout spots, and some tables get all the attention. Amidst the spotlight-hogging RSI and MACD indicators, there’s a quiet corner where a powerful yet often-overlooked duo sits: Williams %R and Three White Soldiers. I know, it sounds like a superhero team or maybe a folk band, but these two can work real magic together if you know what you're doing. Grab a seat, and let's explore why this combo deserves a spot at the popular table. Williams %R—The Moody Friend You Need Let’s talk about Williams %R. Think of it as that one friend who always reads the room correctly, sensing the highs and lows before anyone else catches on. This indicator, created by Larry Williams, is a momentum oscillator that moves on a scale of -100 to 0, telling you when the market is overbought or oversold. Basically, it’s the dramatic mood ring of Forex—when the market's gotten way too emotional, Williams %R is there to call it out. But why, you may ask, use Williams %R over the more popular Stochastic Oscillator or RSI? Well, here’s the scoop—Williams %R tends to be a lot faster on the trigger. It’s like the difference between waiting for a snail mail letter versus an instant DM. With Williams %R, you get early warnings, which is critical when you’re navigating those high-speed market shifts, especially when trading volatile currency pairs. Ninja Tactic #1: The “Rattle Before the Roll” Here’s a trick that’ll make you feel like a ninja trader: watch for Williams %R to breach the -20 mark, indicating an overbought condition. When that happens, don't freak out—this could be the market gearing up for the classic Three White Soldiers reversal pattern. Imagine it as a team huddle right before they charge onto the field. Recognizing this little heads-up lets you hop on the train before everyone else figures out which way it’s going. Three White Soldiers—Not Just A Battle Formation Now, let’s welcome our guest stars—the Three White Soldiers. If you’ve ever wished you could predict market reversals, these soldiers are your go-to army. The Three White Soldiers is a bullish candlestick pattern that consists of three consecutive green (or white) candles, each opening within the previous candle’s body, closing higher. Think of them as three successive boosts in confidence that’s like a marketer’s dream review: one person says “I love this,” and then two others say “Yeah, what they said”—and boom, trend reversal confirmed. A common mistake with this pattern is jumping the gun at the first green candle. As much as we want to see hope in the first uptick, patience is key. It’s like being at an auction—don’t raise your paddle just because someone else does. You need those three consistent signals, otherwise, you’re just making a guess rather than a well-informed move. Ninja Tactic #2: The “Three Musketeers Entry” For a juicy entry point, combine the Three White Soldiers pattern with a Williams %R bounce above -80. It’s like bringing a flashlight to a cave—suddenly, everything makes sense. If Williams %R is confirming that we're rising out of oversold territory and those three soldiers appear, that's your golden ticket. Avoiding The Fakeout—What Most Traders Miss Most traders get lost chasing the shiny “Three White Soldiers” without considering whether the context makes sense. Imagine buying a pair of bright yellow Crocs because they’re on sale, only to realize you have nowhere to wear them. Context is everything—look at the big picture. Always check if the overall trend is reversing or just experiencing a blip. One of my favorite insider tips is watching for a confluence zone where Williams %R confirms with other indicators. For example, pairing Williams %R with trend lines or Bollinger Bands can help verify the legitimacy of the Three White Soldiers signal—think of it as a double-check before trusting those new recruits in your army. The Power of Patience and Laughter Ever accidentally hit the ‘sell’ button instead of ‘buy’ and watch your position fall faster than an over-dramatic villain in an action movie? Yeah, it’s happened to the best of us. Forex trading is partly about indicators and techniques but mostly about keeping your head when all else is going haywire. Patience is a skill that comes in handy, whether you're waiting for Three White Soldiers to march in or avoiding emotional decision-making. Besides, a sense of humor helps. Seriously. It’s easy to get overwhelmed by a red screen with losses stacking up, but laughing it off and viewing your errors as part of the learning journey keeps you in the game longer. After all, even seasoned experts know that you have to kiss a few frogs—or make a few terrible trades—to find the profitable princes. The "Next-Level Combo Play" Technique Let’s put it all together. This is the advanced play that could make you feel like you've cracked the Forex code. Picture this: the market's in a clear downtrend, and suddenly Williams %R drops below -80. That's your cue to start paying attention. As soon as it rises above -80, and the first of the Three White Soldiers appears, it's time to start plotting your move. Set your sights on the third soldier, confirm with volume spikes, and there’s your entry. It's about anticipation and execution—like a chess move four steps in advance. Case Study—Real-Life Williams & Three White Soldiers Take a look at a recent GBP/USD setup from September 2023. The Williams %R dropped to -90, signaling deeply oversold conditions. A week later, those Three White Soldiers emerged, with each candle gaining strength. The combo of an oversold Williams %R and the Three White Soldiers pushed the pair up by 250 pips over two weeks—enough to turn a modest trade into a very respectable gain. According to John Bollinger, a seasoned technical analyst, "Combining different indicators isn’t just a preference, it’s a necessity." And he’s absolutely right—those 250 pips weren’t magic, they were strategic confirmation in play. Data from the Bank for International Settlements also reveals that traders who use multi-indicator strategies often outperform those relying on single-point analysis by over 30%. Bonus: The Hidden Trap That Few Traders Consider There’s a pitfall you should be wary of—the dreaded “fakeout soldiers.” Just because you see three green candles doesn’t always mean you’re out of the woods. Low trading volume can often mean the ‘soldiers’ are nothing more than a bluff, like a poker player going all-in with a weak hand. Always cross-check volume to confirm real intent. Wrap-Up: Marching Orders for Mastering the Combo So what did we learn today? We’ve seen how the Williams %R and the Three White Soldiers, two relatively overlooked indicators, can be as powerful as the more popular tools when used right. Mastering their combination is like learning a dance—you need rhythm, patience, and a bit of flair to make it smooth. But once you’ve got it, you’ll never want to stop dancing. If you’re intrigued by what you’ve read and want even more insider techniques, exclusive methodologies, or game-changing tools to improve your trades, why not check out our community? Join us at StarseedFX Community to gain expert analysis, live alerts, and more. Don’t forget to grab our Free Trading Journal and track those soldier marches with precision. Ready to step up your Forex game? Let’s get marching! Read the full article

[rainbow-femme]

My thoughts on the whole “make the internet child friendly” thing is that no one under the age of 18 should feel comfortable on the internet

If you are not a legal adult there are so many ways for you to be harmed through the internet, and the more comfortable minors feel the more at risk they are of being taken advantage of

When I was growing up at the beginning of the internet age I was constantly shown informational videos on how people could get my name and address from just a screen name, To Catch A Predator was on and showing all the ways adults posed as minors to trick them into being abducted, and even shows like Catfish on MTV were always there to remind you that if you did not already know someone in person you couldn’t be sure who they were online

For years I only went into sites geared towards kids and even then with strict rules on how to keep any identifying information out of my screen name and to never answer personal questions online. While YouTube existed, a large chunk of the videos didn’t involve peoples faces like almost all do now

When I got a tumblr at 16 I knew porn could come up at any time and I was cautious of how I used it because of that. People regularly scoffed at the idea of clicking a link you were sent in a message and who could be so dumb as to click one

I don’t want kids to feel safe on the internet because they aren’t, and people looking to take advantage of kids want them to feel comfortable. They want minors using their legal name, posting videos of their school, showing their face as they wear school sweatshirts. I’ve seen so many recent stalking cases that happened because the person used the Snapchat map feature that allowed people to see where they went and for how long every day

I think that it’s good to accept that kids exist on the internet and getting rid of some of the more horrific Wild West aspects is good (Chatroulette type situations, easy to stumble on beheading videos) but the amount that social media sites are telling people they’re safe for minors and said minors can let their guard down makes me very nervous. It is not difficult to film your 13 year old nephew for a TikTok, post it like it’s your own, then ask the other 13 year olds who like it where they go to school

And this is not me blaming Gen Z or calling them stupid, as I said the only reason I knew how to be safe was because the culture around me so heavily pushed all the tactics on how to be safe and what the consequences of not being safe were. Gen Z grew up with shows about how great is to be a successful teen vlogger, with child influencers, with teenagers who put their face and identifying information in Vines being tracked down and given prizes by Ellen DeGeneres. The entire culture they’re being brought up in is designed to tell them that being open online as a child isn’t just cool it’s a way to be successful and validated

So yeah I don’t want any site telling parents or their kids that it is a safe place for minors, that their information is being protected, or that none of the content can harm them

[becca-e-barnes]

Bucky Barnes

Fluff:

He Was Made to Be a Dad - Sarah throws you and Bucky a baby shower for your second child

I Remember This Song - Bucky has a bad night so to comfort him, you give him a little iPod full of songs from the 40’s

Let Me Help - John Walker attacks you and Bucky helps you recover

Oliver Grant Barnes - You give birth to your first baby with Bucky

Playdate - You’re a single parent to an outgoing little boy called Oliver. On the first day of school he makes a new friend, Thomas Barnes. Both Thomas and his dad Bucky come over for dinner

Smut:

Reminder that while I am not strictly an 18+ account at the moment, I do not want minors or individuals without their age specified interacting with my smut. If you do, you will be ✨ blocked ✨

Don’t Talk With Your Mouth Full - You rile Bucky up during a briefing and after everyone leaves, you make it up to him in the conference room, whether Steve is there or not

Gym Session - You know Bucky loves seeing you in his dogtags so you wear them to the gym. He gets his own back by making you ride his abs

Make It Up To Me, Barnes - Good old fashioned makeup sex with your husband Bucky after an argument

Intimacy - You get a date night with Bucky after your second baby and he reminds you just how much he loves every inch of your body

I’m Not Sure At All This Is Safe, But I Want To Try It Anyway - You and Bucky try knife play

Too Far - You and Bucky get a little too carried away in your Dom/Sub roles and you have to use your safe word

Wanna Make You Feel Good All Day - Pleasure Dom Bucky makes you forget all about a bad week at work

Welcome Home, Soldat - Bucky comes home from a mission in his full tactical gear and makes you get off on his boot

Would That Be So Bad, Toots? - You and Bucky decide to try for a second child

Limerence - Hate sex

AU’s

Best Friend’s Dad! Bucky

Rebound - Your boyfriend dumps you so you stay with your best friend Amy for a while. Her dad Bucky helps you forget all about the breakup

Night Out - Part 2 to Rebound. Amy thinks you need a night out to help you get over your breakup. Bucky thinks your dress is too short and gets jealous

Personal Assistant! Bucky

Take Care of Everything - Your PA Bucky takes care of everything for you but now he wants to take care of you too

Series:

Dad’s Best Friend! Bucky

Mini Masterlist - My collection of Dad’s Best Friend Bucky oneshots

Pornstar! Bucky

Mini Masterlist - My collection of Pornstar Bucky Blurbs

Blurbs:

40’s Bucky

Sex in an alleyway

[subwaysurf45]

Fragments (Prologue)

Summary: You always had a soft spot for innocent people who were viewed as monsters, must have been something in your blood. Nothing changed when you were assigned as the new handler for the Winter Soldier, he had just killed his previous one and you happened to be there at the right time to fill in. But what happens when you meet him years later? 

Episode: 0, Prologue

Warnings: kidnapping, guns, violence

Words: 1,486 (my prologues are always way shorter than my chapters, don’t worry!)

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Who knew a twenty-something year old could go from being on the right track to completely derailed and in the underground world of Hydra? A perfectly normal middle child passed through all odds while no one noticed, jumping through hoops and fighting tooth and nail to get their degree and become a criminologist. A life long dream no one seemed to understand, the serial killers or school shooters weren’t your target. It was the dad who had to leave his pregnant wife alone for the first three years of his daughter's life because he was caught with weed, how he was coping in the prison system. 

You always had a thing for the innocent people who were deemed monsters by society. 

But you were no longer at the New York city prison, the orange prison suits were weirdly missing as you walked the halls with two agents walking behind you. A metaphoric gun was pointed to the back of your head, causing you to stumble with every step you took closer to the meeting room you had never been in before. Heels clicked the floor, the skirt you were wearing was the only one they didn't rip after the raid. 

“Turn,” one guard said. You followed and turned right and saw the meeting room. 

The one and only Alexander Pierce stood with a sinister smile on his face, his hands were held in front of him and his feet were spread wide apart; a blatantly obvious intimidation tactic. He didn’t say a word as you passed by to walk into the meeting room, you could feel him walking behind you and almost clipping your heels. 

The first thing you noticed was the guns, all different styles and sizes. Hydra agents stood perfectly spaced out around the perimeter of the room, massive shotguns ready in both hands. The agents were in tactical gear, all black cargo pants and black jackets. The men who wore suits ranging from all black to navy blue kept their hand on their hip which held back their jacket in order to see the handgun in their waistband. No one was sitting but they were standing behind their chairs, waiting for you and Pierce. 

“Sit,” Pierce commanded. 

You pulled out a chair next to the head of the table, where Pierce was sitting, all the other chairs were taken. As the men got ready for a meeting they all looked as though this was normal, there was no small talk but the men casually adjusted and laid out their papers on the glass desk. 

“So,” you looked over at Pierce at the sound of his voice, “you know why you’re here, yes?” 

You didn’t know how to talk to the man, one wrong word and all the guns in the room might be turned on you. “I mean,” you cleared your throat, “why did you come after me even though he was the one who spilled the beans?” 

Pierce’s arms crossed over his chest, “that’s a fair question, I’ll give that you,” he nodded and looked around, “look, you’re a liability now because of what he told you,” his crossed arms moved so his hands now sat flat on the table, “but liabilities are a big deal, I hope you know,” you nodded, “we have been running this infiltration since the seventies, I can’t lose it to some shrink.” 

The word used to hurt you, all the work thrown away with one word. But after meeting with tons of inmates who hated the idea of opening up and being vulnerable, you quickly adjusted to the names you were called. You found that the ones who hated you most had the most to talk about, near the end they came around and opened up about their horrors endured in the prison system. 

“But why don’t you just kill him and then give me hush money?” you crossed your arms, suddenly finding confidence. 

Pierce began to laugh, no one else did, he threw his head back and had one hand over his stomach as he cackled. “You fucking fool!” he leaned in as he shouted, “you think I let that bam bam live?” a finger wiped away a fake tear, “I fucking own the prisons here in New York, that man sadly did the Dutch three days ago thanks to my inmates in there who make sure shit stays in line, there’s no investigation happening because I own the guards as well.” The fake laughing had stopped and he changed to a tone used to explain simple math to a child, speaking slowly to help you understand. 

You were no stranger to prison slang, inmates used it all the time like a second language. It took a while to figure out all of it but after getting the hold of it, the bam bam’s you were talking to liked you more. 

“And for the hush money,” he took a moment to think even though you knew he paused for dramatic effect, “money can buy quietness for so long, if you were sixty and near retirement I would have sent you money, I won’t lie. But you’re young and there’s something about you…” he paused again to reach out and stroke your cheek with the back of his pointer finger, “you’d wait three years and then anonymously tip the New York Times, thinking we’d forget,” his finger and thumb moved to pinch your chin in place, “Hydra never forgets.” 

“Understood,” you gritted out, “what are you going to do with me now?” 

“Well,” Pierce checked his watch, “while you were here my agents raided your apartment again and packed up a suitcase, you’ll be living here for a while.” He stood and collected his papers, “you’ll also be the new handler for the Winter Soldier.” 

“What-ow!” In the blink of an eye you were pinned down to the table after trying to stand, your face was thrown against the table, the stinging pain radiating down your body. You could feel the real gun pressed to the back of your head. 

“Easy,” Pierce scolded, “she can’t be banged up before meeting her new play thing,” sarcasm dripped from his lips, “you know that sets him off.” 

They let you go with a shove. You quickly stood and fixed your skirt and blouse, flicking the back of your head to get the feeling of the gun off. Without a word, you followed Pierce, and only Pierce, out of the meeting room and down a few hallways. He pointed out a few things but not a ton, he was focused on getting you to your room. 

“Here,” he opened the door, “is your quarters.” 

It looked to be about the size of a standard hotel room, there was one bed in the corner and a bathroom behind a door. There was no kitchen but there was a couch and small television, on the way over Pierce explained you’d be getting meals delivered. The bed was a queen by the looks of it, all white bedding and two pillows. The leather couch looked lived in, there was discoloration and scratches all over it. Hardwood on the floors were fake, you could see cement under the ripped up floor paper. The bathroom smelled of human remains and human waste, the bathtub was stained and so was the toilet, it wasn’t as bad as the black mold growing in the corners. 

“You’re not allowed to leave,” he said as you looked around and weaved through the boxes, “you’ll only leave when handling the Asset, nothing more or less.” 

“What do I do if I need tampons or more toilet paper?” you turned around and crossed your arms, kicking off your heels. 

He laughed and grew red at the mention of menstruation, “tell the guard who brings your meals and if they don’t do it right away, tell them to get me for a…meeting about the Asset, they’re too scared of me to say no.” 

You scoffed, “so…what am I?” 

“You work here,” he said plainly, “everyone who lives here works here, I can’t trust my agents and scientists outside,” he walked further into the room and stood before you, “you’re not getting paid, you can’t go outside, you also can’t talk back.” 

“Is it like that to everyone else?” you asked. 

“Sometimes,” he shrugged, “but my closest men and agents who have never stabbed my back live free, maybe one day you’ll make it out of here too.” 

“That sounds like I’m going to jail with no sentence,” your eyebrows pulled together. “So I'm your prisoner?” 

He walked away and opened the door, “the mail slot is where your food will come from,” he pointed to the gold slot on the black door, “and yes, I’m glad you said it before me.” the door slammed shut, leaving you alone and seemingly no place to go.

NEXT EPISODE

Series Taglist: @marvelouslovely-barnes​ @flyingbalto​ @fuck-is-going-on @readingbooksdrinkingtea​​ @linzc-reader​​ @hotleaf-juice​​ @honeybunchesofbucky​​ @sky0401​​ @striving4averagegirl​​ @seybox​​ @yaszx​​ @happyt0exist​​ 

If you would like to be added you can comment under this post, any post in this series, or the series masterlist which is linked up top!​

[secretswiftymarvelfan]

The Demigod From Asgard - Steve Rogers x Reader (Part 8)

Summary: You and Steve get sent back to school

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Fluff! Angst! Start of the painfully slow slow burn!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

Series Masterlist / Masterlist

Chapter 8: Back to school

After a couple more weeks settling and adjusting into this new world you had gotten a call to report in to Fury. You were excited to finally get to work. While you had enjoyed your time off after the battle of New York, you were itching to start.

Walking through the halls of the New York HQ you watched all the agents milling around. Some in office wear, some in tactical gear. As you rounded the corner you spotted Steve stood outside Fury’s office talking to the man in the eyepatch.

“Ah, nice of you to join us” Fury says when he spots you, Steve turning to face you his brow raised in question clearly just as surprised that you were here.

“Apologies if I kept you waiting Director” you tell him.

“You didn’t, now come on” Fury says nodding into his office “both of you” he clarifies when he sees you hesitate.

“Is it a mission sir?” Steve asks as you both step inside.

“No, you both need to go through SHIELD academy first” Fury says sitting down at his desk.

“Academy? We’re already seasoned fighters” you question with a quiet scoff.

“I don’t doubt that but it’s protocol and frankly both of you could use an update” Fury explains leaning back in his chair.

You and Steve exchange a look before turning back to the director.

“An update?” Steve states.

“Yes, both of your fighting styles are old fashioned, plus there are skills you two will need to learn so you are fully equipped to deal with whatever is thrown at you” Fury elaborates.

“What skills are there that we possibly do not already know” you ask finding the whole idea ridiculous. You had been fighting for decades now.

“Have you ever shot a gun?” Fury asks.

“No-“ you say

“Well there’s one right there” Fury points out before you even get the chance to say anymore.

“Look, it will take a month tops as opposed to the 9 months the other agents have to endure. The world is different now, it’s no longer black and white our enemies have evolved, and you need to too” Fury sighs.

You hear Steve sigh deeply, looking up at him he had a steely expression on his face. His jaw clenched as he looked over at the Director.

“When do we start?” He asks with a sigh.

“You can start today if you so wish” Fury answers.

Steve glances over at you before giving fury a curt nod.

“May as well get this over and done with” he mutters before heading out of the office.

Fury glances over at you waiting to see if you had anything to say, there was plenty that you wanted to say but you brought your temper under control. With a quick sigh you move to the door. You pause when you reach the door, looking back over at Fury who had a brows raised.

“Words of warning, insulting an Asgardian never ends well” you tell him flatly.

“Noted” Fury says with a small smirk.

Walking through the HQ you make your way down to the training gyms. Once changing into some workouts clothes, consisting of simple black vest and leggings. You made your way into the gym, spotting Steve as you walk in.

He was stood arms crossed, now dressed in navy sweatpants and a grey top that was definitely two sizes too small. His jaw was clenched as he looked out over the gym. When he glanced over at you his expression softened slightly as you walked over.

“Ready to show these guys up?” You ask making him snort with a chuckle.

“100%, old fashioned fighting? What are they talking about” he smirks.

“It works doesn’t it? Bet we’ll be out of here in a week” you say glancing around the room.

“I’ll take that bet” he chuckles.

The two of you watch as a couple more agents gather in the training gym. Along with two familiar faces.

“Now Clint, which one do you think had the biggest issue with this?” Nat smirks as they walk over.

“Oh tough one, I’d say Cap over here” Clint says nodding over to Steve.

“Are the two of you just here to watch?” Steve asks looking between the two of them.

“Kinda, we’ll be some of the agents assessing you. Since we don’t need to start from the very beginning we’re just gonna give you the final test and use that to work out where you guys need some help” Nat explains.

“They doing the bulldozer test?” Clint asks with a mischievous smirk.

“No not today, that’s gonna be the very final thing they do” Nat explains.

“Bulldozer test?” You question.

“You’ll see” Nat smirks.

A couple more agents walk over, Nat introducing them all to you. One of them being the head of the academy.

“Right so I’m sure Agent Romanoff has explained we are just going to do the final test today to see where you guys are at. The test comprises of multiple stations that’ll test you on different attributes of being a field agent. We expected that you guys will mass the majority of these with flying colours so don’t be stressed out about it” the head of the academy explained.

“You ready to go?” He asks once he was done explaining it.

“Yeah let’s go” Steve confirms for the both of you.

The test started with a simple assault course. You kept up the pace with steve the majority of the time, but as soon as it came to the running section he left you in the dust.

The next section was a shooting range. Both you and Steve’s aim was alright but not perfect. You just about hit the targets, just not at the right places. You had to repeat the exercise with different types of guns.

The next section was a mobile shooting range. You and Steve had to make your way through the course, targets appearing periodically. Your aim slipped even more here, to the point that you got so frustrated you blasted one target with ice instead of shooting it.

The last few stations were all hand to hand combat. You felt like you did okay here, you held your own. But even you had to admit you were on the defence the majority of the time. When you watched Steve he seemed to do better than you, his sparring partner did manage to pin him a couple times, only temporarily though.

Once you were done both you and Steve were dismissed while the assessors added up your scores. The both of you were sat on the benches by the water cooler.

“How did you find it?” Steve asks you downing the rest of his water.

“Alright, not too demoralising could have done better though” you admit shrugging your shoulders.

“Me too” Steve sighs leaning back, resting his back against the wall.

“You did much better than me” you tell him with a light laugh.

“You did good, I like how you shot that target with the ice” Steve says smiling over at you.

You scoff shaking your head “Probably lost a couple points there” you laugh.

“Agent should be able to adapt to any situation, that’s what you did” Steve offers smiling over at you.

You shrug your shoulders finishing the rest of your drink. The assessors now walking over to you.

“Right well somehow you two screwed over the bet we made, getting the exact same score” Nat says nodding over to clint.

“You bet on us?” Steve asks raising a brow at them.

Clint just shrugs his shoulders “its a usual thing, we bet on who we think will do best every time” he explains.

“So what’s the verdict?” You ask, leaning forward to rest your elbows on your knees.

“Well you both did very well, room for improvement though, Y/N you need to work on your fire arms but considering you never fired one before you still did pretty well” the head of the academy explains.

“And Captain, its just a matter of updating your fighting style, get some more martial arts in there. And we’ll also need to work with the both of you to integrate your enhancements into your fighting styles” he continues.

“How long should that roughly take?” Steve asks.

“You two seem like quick learners so no more than a month, you’ll be working with Agent Barton and Agent Romanoff so they won’t let you slack off either” he answers, both Nat and Clint smirking over at you.

“This is gonna be a fun month” you mutter glancing over at Steve.

It had been a couple weeks since the assessment. It had been pretty hard core both you and Steve pushing yourself to finish this as soon as possible.

The hand to hand combat was going pretty well. You had learnt multiple different styles of martial arts from Natasha. The one thing you still weren’t doing well on was the shooting. It was starting to look like Steve was going to finish all this before you.

You tried not to get too frustrated as you practiced but it was far too easy for your temper to flare. One bad shot and that was it for the day, your frustrations making you miss the target each time.

“Curse this stupid thing” you growl slamming the gun down in frustration.

“Wow I wouldn’t wanna be that gun right now” you hear someone say behind you.

Turning you see Steve stood with a small smile on his face, hands in his pockets.

“I don’t get why I need to use this, my powers work just fine” you say firing a fire ball at the target to prove your point.

“Sometimes subtlety is needed” Steve offers walking over to you.

“I can be subtle” you say shrugging your shoulders.

Steve raises a brow at you “you and I have very different definitions of subtle” he says.

You roll your eyes at him before moving to pack your stuff away. Too fed up to carry on.

“Whoa wait hold on, let me help” he says putting a hand on your arm to stop you.

“You don’t have to” you say trying and failing to shrug him off.

“I know, but I want to, I want to graduate from the academy alongside you” he says with a kind smile.

You look up at him for a moment considering it, when really there was nothing to consider.

“Fine, but you’ll still get out of this before me, you’re acing everything” you sigh stepping back towards the shooting range.

“Not true, your better at that martial arts stuff, I’ve got a lot of mass that slows me down, you’re fast and nimble” Steve says grabbing your gun and reloading it for you.

“Now show me your stance” He instructs passing you your gun.

Sighing in apprehension you take the gun and move into the stance Clint taught you.

“Okay, it’s good but could be better” Steve says as he looks at you “may I?” He asks.

You glance over at him realising he was asking if he could touch you “uh yeah sure” you say.

You feel him nudging your foot with his own widening your stance slight. His hands then land on your shoulders adjusting them slight. They then move down your back to your hips moving them gently to be in line with your shoulders.

As he touched you, you felt your body tingle. A sensation you had never felt before. You started to suddenly feel really hot, you breathing becoming slightly more shallow. Your mind went foggy for a moment before it snapped back.

He finally adjusts your arms, you can feel his chest pressing into your back. It was a nice sensation, if that’s the word you’d use. His hands them move to the gun clicking the safety of and moving it slightly.

“Okay now just look down the barrel, keep both your eyes open. Ready yourself for the kick, aim and fire” he tells you taking a step back.

You feel a rush of cold as he did so, the heat that was radiating off his body completely disappearing. Clearing your mind you refocused on the task. Looking down the barrel of the gun you aimed at the targets chest.

Taking a deep breath you fired the gun. To your astonishment it hit the target straight in the middle of the chest. Exactly where you had been aiming. It was your best shot yet.

“There you go, give it a couple more, try and go for the head” Steve encourages.

You take a few more shots and to your surprise each one found its target.

“Oh my god” you mutter lowering the gun, not truly believing you’d done that.

Turning back to face Steve you half expected to see a gun in his hand, him doing all the shots instead. But you just saw him smiling back at you proudly.

“See you’re a natural just needed a little push, now lets try a couple more positions” Steve says.

“Positions?” You question slightly stunned.

“Yeah, you won’t always be able to shoot like that, you’ll need to shoot from behind cover, crouching, sometimes lying down too” he explains

“Oh right yes of course” you agree your mind finally catching up.

You and Steve spent the next few hours training together. He helped you with your shooting, talking you through everything. Adjusting your stance when needed. You were starting to get pretty good, it still needed a bit of work but you weren’t getting frustrated anymore.

Afterwards the two of you had a sparring session together. As you sparred you could see Steve begin to speed up, and when he couldn’t he started to anticipate your moves two steps before you even done them. You’d hit the mat more times than you could count. However you had managed to pin Steve a few times too, using his own size against him.

“That was a good session” you say as the two of you grab a drink. The both of you dripping in sweat, a feat for either of you.

“Definitely, might be out of here by the end of the week” Steve says taking a few large gulps of his water.

“Thank god, can’t wait to get out there” You agree.

“What you doing later?” He asks as the two of you walk toward the locker rooms.

“Dunno, why?” You ask.

“Wanna come over watch a movie? Cross something off the list?” He suggests.

You smile over at him nodding in agreement “yeah sounds great, meet you out front” you agree.

“Great see you in a bit” he smiles before you both head off to the locker rooms to freshen up.

Exactly a month since your first assessment you and Steve were finally getting ready to repeat the assessment.

“You guys nervous?” Nat asks walking over to the two of you in the jet.

“Don’t think so? Why do we have to go somewhere else to do this? Couldn’t we do this at HQ like before?” Steve asks.

“Bulldozer test, can’t do it anywhere else” Nat explains.

“Are you gonna tell us exactly what it is? “ you ask.

“Spoilers” Nat smirks before walking away.

Once the jet landed you were led out onto the training field. You could see agents running around, all training. A few caught sight of the 4 Avengers walking across campus. A couple running into each other as they weren’t looking where they were going.

Once you were ready the head of the academy ran through exactly what you and Steve would be doing.

“And we’ll finish with the bulldozer test, now go warm up, we’ll start in 15 minutes” he finishes.

Once you had warmed up the final test began. The two of you worked through the stations you had failed the last time. The shooting stations went much petter this time. You hit everything target spot on, didn’t need your powers at all. Then it was the last station.

“You want us to push that?” Steve asks pointing to the bulldozer.

Nat smirks over at the two of you “yup, now get to it there’s a lot of money riding on who wins” she says.

You could see a large crowd of agents had all turned up to watch the test.

You glance over at steve with a playful look “wanna race?” You smirk.

Steve chuckles over at you before doing a couple stretches “you’re on doll” he smirks.

The two of you race over to your respective bulldozers and start pushing. It was heavier than you were expecting and it was taking all of your strength to move it. It was moving through, and at a good speed. You glanced over at Steve to see him edging ahead of you, exertion very clear on his face.

The two of you were neck and neck for a while but you began to tire quicker than he did. He pushes ahead of you, you could hear the crowd cheering which was enough to push you on. Finally you pushed the bulldozer over the line collapsing to the fall in exhaustion.

Looking over at Steve you see him bent over catching his breath. The crowd was cheering and you could see money being exchanged between agents. Steve walks over offering you his hand and pulling you up to your feet.

“You alright?” He asks chest still heaving.

“Peachy, congrats on winning” you say holding out your hand for him to shake.

“It was close, you had me on the ropes” he smiles shaking your hand.

“Well that was two of the best record breaking attempts I’ve ever seen” the head of the academy laughs as he walks over.

“I’d hardly call mine record breaking, I didn’t even hold it” you laugh.

“Still second to cap is still pretty cool” you add smiling up at Steve.

“Well congratulations guys, you have officially graduated from the academy” the head smiles saluting the two of you.

You salute back before turning and smiling at Steve. You couldn’t help it, you laughed as you launched yourself into his arms. The both of you celebrating your graduation.

“Right well even though I know you two can’t get drunk, but drinks to celebrate?” Nat asks as she and Clint walk over.

“Lead the way” you smile.

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Series Masterlist / Masterlist

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[acalltocivility]

Texas blowhard and cartoon villain Ted Cruz’s answer to mass shootings is simply “Gun laws don’t work”...and that’s it. No constructive “Let’s get together and see what we can do about this to curb the violence and death.” Nothing.  So, what, we’re not supposed to do anything other than lock ourselves and our kids indoors and hide? Or perhaps arm ourselves and our families to the teeth while wearing Kevlar and go all Rambo for eternity? We’re not supposed to even try limiting access to weapons but we should start building impenetrable fortresses in place of schools to serve as learning institutions? Other than distracting with the topic of mental health, even though just last month Texas Governor Greg Abbott (another NRA sycophant) slashed $211 million from the state's department that oversees mental health programs, Ted’s got bupkis.

If it were Ted’s kids that had been shot or any of the other GOP denier’s kids, it would be an entirely different story and will continue to be so until it is one of their kids. Stuffing your head in the sand isn’t working. We have to start somewhere. But just hoping it will go away is not an answer.  Not saying guns should be outlawed, but why does anyone in this country need assault rifles, semi-automatic weapons, and tactical gear unless they’re planning on overthrowing their government? Enough of the denial, diversions, and playing the blame game, Washington do nothings. We pay your salaries, but we all know who lines your pockets. #NRA

[itskateak]

Mint Ice Cream & Bubblegum Kisses - Chapter Four

(Bucky Barnes X Single Dad!Reader)

Series Summary: Y/N L/N works as an intel specialist at the Avenger’s Compound. He scans chatter on the international - and intergalactic - level for any information that might be helpful to the Avengers and other agents. But he’s also a single father to a beautiful eight-year-old girl: Angelica L/N. It’s tough raising a little girl on his own and working a full-time job, but he’s managing. A promotion has him launched up in rank at the Compound, leading him to work directly with the Avengers team. The only problem is it’s a 24/7 job. Life around the compound gets a little strange when his daughter is added to the mix of enhanced humans and ex-assassins.

Chapter Summary: Rumors had always surrounded Bucky Barnes. A very early morning has Y/N thinking that every single one of them are wrong.

Word Count: 3.9K

Warnings: Meet-cute, fluff, unwanted romantic advances (again), minor language, Bucky being a little self-loathing

A/N: I wish y'all could've seen what happened in the middle of revising this - we got a 5.1 earthquake out of nowhere that jolted the house pretty good and in my rush to pick up my glass (and not move from the couch because screw that, I'm lazy and mother nature would have to throw me off the couch herself like that guy in the bathtub on Nov. 30th, 2018 - which, by the way, who is just soaking in the bathtub at 8:30 AM???), I slapped the keyboard. Oops. And then we got two more in the next two minutes.

Masterlist

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Y/N sank into his desk chair, sleep hanging at the corner of his eyes. He almost had hit his alarm and gone back to bed, but since Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes were returning from a mission, he forced himself out of bed. They'd have information for him to add to the system that could be urgent. So, here he was, half-awake and booting up his computer.

He hadn't even had his caffeine this morning so his personality had yet to catch up. He was just a walking, mumbling shell of Y/N until his brain woke up entirely. That could take ten minutes, or it could take two hours. 

A knock on the door made him look up and blink to see who was in his doorway. The hall outside was still dark and his office wasn't very bright either so it was a little difficult to see.

Steve smiled in greeting and leaned against the doorframe. He was still in his tactical gear, a bloody scratch on his cheek proving that he'd come straight from the helicarrier. "Hey, Y/N. You're up bright and early."

"Well, you two decided to come back before even the roosters are awake, so...here I am. Just in case you guys had sensitive intel for me." Y/N tiredly smiled in return.

"Ah. Buck's the one who gathered most of the intel. He wanted to shower first since he was, in his words, sweatier than a sinner in a church and smellier than a nightclub on Wednesdays." Steve shrugged. "Sometimes I wonder if he's okay when he says stuff like that."

"A...nightclub on...Wednesdays?" Y/N asked, head tilted curiously.

"Apparently, Wednesdays were some of the busiest nights back in the day at the clubs he used to go to. Packed with people. We didn't really use deodorant in that time...so, it smelled pretty bad after a while." Steve explained. "Anyway, I came by to ask you a very important question."

"What's up?"

"What is your favorite caffeinated drink?"

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Y/N didn't realize he had fallen asleep on his desk until someone had carefully placed a cup next to him. He turned his head as he woke up, leaning his cheek against his arm. He blinked awake, noticing the mug.

"Bless you, you beautiful, beautiful person." He mumbled sleepily, straightening up and taking the warm drink gratefully.

"An apology for making you get up really early and somethin' to get you movin'." The person said with a soft voice. "Steve told me that was your favorite."

Y/N looked up at them and paused. He was tall - but that may have been the vantage point - and had wide shoulders. His eyes were a glittering blue and filled with friendliness. He gave a lopsided smile.

 "I'm Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, but everyone just calls me Bucky."

"Y/N L/N. Nice to meet you. And thanks for the drink." Y/N extended his hand to greet Bucky. "So, what do you have for me?"

Bucky set a small stack of old files on the corner of the desk before sitting down on the couch pressed against the wall meant for visitors. He laid his ankle on his knee, leaning back and lounging against the couch. He hitched his chin towards the dusty files.

"Grabbed them from the Hydra base we raided. Not sure what all is in there but it seemed pretty important given how it was locked in a safe within a safe, behind a vaulted door and guarded by people armed to the teeth." Bucky explained then sighed deeply, his head falling back against the top of the seat. He stared at the ceiling, shaking his head slightly.

"Sounds crazy. You okay?" Y/N swiveled in his chair to face Bucky, tilting his head slightly. He warmed his hands with the drink he'd been brought, taking slow sips periodically to avoid burning his tongue.

"Yeah, just tired and glad to be back." Bucky picked his head back up and brushed his hair back out of his face. It was obvious he had just gotten out of the shower not too long ago, his hair still damp and starting to curl up. 

"Did you get hurt?"  Y/N asked, concerned. From the looks of Steve, the mission had been rough on them. They'd been gone for almost two weeks.

"Nothin' major. Few scratches and bruises. Maybe a pinched nerve or muscle in my knee, but Bruce isn't awake yet to get it checked out." Bucky gestured with his head to his left knee before shrugging. "How're you settling in? I heard about Stark's smooth promotion offer."

"Oh, yeah...that scared the shit out of me. Everything's working out well. A little strange being my own boss, really, but it feels great. I know Angelica's having a blast with the fact there's a pool downstairs and she's surrounded by some pretty cool people." Y/N shook his head fondly. "New office, new room, new environment. It's different...but good."

"That's how I felt when I first moved here. Though, everyone wasn't as welcoming...and they had every right not to trust me." Bucky looked at the floor, expression faltering. "I'm...not the easiest to get along with somedays."

"I think we're getting along just fine." Y/N gave him a friendly smile. "I might be biased since you brought me my favorite drink."

Bucky laughed then, a warm sound that filled the space, and the corners of his eyes crinkled up. "So you figured out my plan. Bribe you into likin' me." 

"Don't think you have to bribe me very much." Y/N broke into laughter, too, happy to see a smile back on Bucky's face. "You should get some food and get some rest if you can."

"I won't be able to sleep until later. Too wired still and probably will be for most of the morning."

"Maybe Wanda will make some tea for you." Y/N set his cup down. "My daughter doesn't know that you two were coming back this morning. She can be very hyperactive and excited when meeting new people. I didn't want you to come back from a mission and possibly be in a bad state of mind only to be met with a kid who wants to ask you rapid-fire questions for an hour."

"I appreciate that. I won't be against meeting her this afternoon. It's a Monday, right?" Bucky glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost five in the morning. "Yeah. Sometime this afternoon, if you want me to swing by and meet her, just let me know."

 "Of course. Thanks, again, for the drink. I'll get to these files soon." Y/N smiled, waving his hand vaguely at the stack of files.

"No problem. I'll get out of your way and leave you to it. Nice to meet you, Y/N. Happy to have you on the team." Bucky stood raised his arms above his head in a stretch. "Oh, and if you need translating or cracking the codes, let me know and I'll help with what I can. See you around, Y/N."

"See you, Bucky." Y/N watched him walk past the glass front of his office and down the hall. All the rumors he'd heard about Bucky being gruff and cold to everyone he meets seemed to be untrue. He already liked the ex-assassin, despite only knowing him for ten minutes total. His rough exterior was offset by his kindness and concern for others.

Y/N pulled the top file and opened it. He sighed. It was all in Russian. Luckily, he could scan the documents into the computer and a program would translate them all out. The only thing he'd need to do afterward would be to create a decoder for the system Hydra used. He shook his mouse to wake his computer.

This was similar tedious work to what he'd used to do, but at least he could wear what he wanted and play music out loud without disturbing anyone. And his daughter could come in and out whenever she wanted when she was tearing around like the little gremlin she was. 

With a wayward glance at the clock, he stood and started scanning the documents.

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Angelica came running into Y/N's office after school had gotten out, her backpack thrown on the floor near the couch. She flopped onto it on her back, limbs sprawled out, groaning loudly.

"Well, hello to you, too." Y/N said, glancing up from his computer to look at his daughter. "How was school?"

"Boring. Like usual." She whined, throwing her arms out but nearly falling off the couch in the process. She squealed and steadied herself. "I wish we did harder math things or read more interesting things."

"Can't be as boring as what I've been doing." Y/N teased, scrolling through the newly translated documents. He was still scanning the files that Bucky had brought that morning and he had yet to start cracking the codes that HYDRA used. "I have at least thirty-eight papercuts on my hands now."

"Whatcha looking at?" Angelica rolled off the couch and moved to see his computer screens. He switched tabs quickly to a google home page. "Papaaa."

"It could be sensitive content, Angel. Can't show you that. And I have no idea what kind of content is in there. Some of it might not be suitable for you." Y/N picked her up and settled her on his lap, an arm around her waist. She leaned back against him, leaning her head against his. "I could take a break and we can watch some YouTube."

"Ooh! Can we watch some dog videos?" She asked, excited.

"Whatever you want, kiddo." He leaned forward and brought up YouTube, typing in a search for funny dog videos. "We can have a fifteen-minute break before I should get back to work and you should start on homework."

"Don't ruin this for me." Angelica groaned, lighting kicking his shin. "Ooh! The first one looks adorable. Look at his little paws!"

Y/N grinned and clicked on the video, turning up the volume. Her giggles and laughter always brightened his day. He watched a puppy stumble and tip a water dish over. Everyone needed a puppy break in the middle of the day and it was definitely needed after the very early morning. 

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"Oh, wow. This is fancy. You sure moved up in the world." Kiera's voice startled Y/N and he looked up from his notes. 

"Oh, hi! Come in, Kiera." Y/N minimized the tabs on his screens and closed his notebook. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, I have a few files from our department that are directly related to a mission that's coming up that they want you to look at." She said, holding up two folders. 

"I've not been told of any mission but let me see what's up." He held his hand out and she crossed his office to pass the files over. He opened the top one and scanned over the words. "I'll have to talk to Tony or Steve to see what this is about, but this seems pretty important."

"The boss man wanted me to run it up here as soon as it was compiled. Are you sure you don't know what it's about?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.

"They might've told me and I just forgot. It's been a crazy few days with Natasha and Sam prepping to leave for a mission tonight and the intel I had to send to the Guardians." Y/N set the files down on his desk.

"So, how's it feel to be in the elite club?" Kiera sat down on the couch, crossing her legs. She was wearing a pencil skirt and heels, which he didn't actually pay attention to after doing a quick scan over her. 

"I had to get up at like...three-thirty this morning because Rogers and Barnes decided to return from a mission with sensitive files at four." Y/N buzzed his lips, leaning back in his chair. "Rogers stopped by first to say hi and tell me Barnes had all the files."

"Sergeant Barnes makes me...uncomfortable sometimes. He's really quiet in meetings and always looks like he's angry or doesn't want to be there." Kiera pursed her lips. "And whenever he talks, he's really short and gruff. He just seems really cold and unapproachable. Did you have to deal with him alone?"

"He brought me my favorite drink, apologized for making me get up so early, and asked how I was settling in. He was nice and offered to help  decode the files he'd brought." He shrugged, thinking back on their conversation that morning. "He was really friendly and open. I think he just isn't comfortable around strangers or large groups of people."

"Y/N, I'm worried about you and Angelica. What if he tries to hurt either of you? I know they say he's stable but is he really? What if he just snaps one day and turns back into the Winter Soldier?" Kiera stood and crossed to him, sitting on the edge of his desk. 

Y/N arched a brow slightly as she laid a hand on his shoulder, her thumb rubbing in a circle over the fabric of his shirt. "Kiera, why are you even bringing this up? If there was even the possibility of him being a threat to anyone, especially Angelica, they wouldn't have let us move in here or he would still be in Wakanda."

"All I'm saying is that you should be careful, okay? I don't think you should get too close to him. I don't want to see you get hurt and I really don't want to see Angelica get hurt." Kiera said. She didn't even know Bucky other than what she's heard through rumors or the news, so why was she pushing this so much? In his eight-minute conversation with Bucky that morning, he'd already dismissed all the rumors and other experiences people had told him about because of how open and friendly he'd been.

"Kiera," He started, voice low and stern. "If I had any concerns about Bucky, I would speak to him directly about it. Talking about him behind his back and perpetuating rumors only hurts his reputation and the way people view him. He knows people don't trust him and feels that it's rightfully deserved."

"Just...be careful, okay? That's all I'm asking. I just fear for Angelica." Kiera said quietly.

"Oh, uh...I'll just...come back in a few minutes." A voice made them both turn and Y/N shrugged Kiera's hand off his shoulder. Bucky was standing awkwardly in the doorway, a hand raised to knock on the door.

"No, come on in, Bucky." Y/N flashed him a warm smile and gave a side-eyed glance at the woman still hovering near him. "Kiera was just leaving." He said through his teeth.

"The boss will want me back in my little cubicle." She stood and walked past Bucky without sparing a glance at him and paused in the doorway. "I'll see you Wednesday night." She winked and smiled before sauntering down the hall.

"Did I interrupt something?" Bucky avoided eye contact, looking at the pictures on the wall instead as he moved further into the office. He looked awkward, his arms hanging limply at his sides. Y/N wondered if he overheard their conversation. 

"She was just bringing files relating to a mission coming up that I may or may not have been told about." Y/N turned back to his computer, opening his tabs and notebook again. Bucky could see the intel and he didn't have to worry about the confidential issue.

"Seemed a little more friendly than that." Bucky snorted, sitting down on the couch, and immediately sinking into it. He was relaxing with every passing second. "Wednesday, huh?"

"I have absolutely no idea what she was talking about. The only plan I have Wednesday night is to go to the library after getting ice cream at Pop's Shoppe with Angelica like we do every Wednesday night." Y/N said, looking at him with an open expression of honesty. 

"Sounded like a date to me." Bucky threw an arm over the back of the couch, his ankle resting on his knee. "Nothin' wrong with that if it was."

"She's just a friend." Y/N sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I should clear that up with her in case she got the wrong impression." 

"I don't think you called me down here to talk about your workplace drama, though." Bucky gave him a lopsided smile, head tilted slightly. Any awkwardness or discomfort was gone. "What's up?"

"Need your help deciphering the codes. I've identified four different codes they use but I can't figure out what they mean." Y/N pressed his lips together in frustration. "I've written each of them down."

"Got a pen?" Bucky sat up, hand extended.

"Yeah. Here's the notebook, too." Y/N passed them to him, noticing that he didn't hesitate with reaching out with his metal arm. Not that he minded the metal prosthetic in the first place. "While you work on that, I can look over the files Kiera brought."

"She seems nice. Seen her in a couple of briefings. Knows what she's talking about and is really good at her job." Bucky said, eyes scanning the notebook as he wrote. "Not a bad choice, honestly."

"She is nice, but not my type." Y/N responded, opening one of the new files, ignoring the flush rising on his face. He was so embarrassed for absolutely no reason.

"Don't think she knows that." Bucky snorted before muttering something in Russian under his breath. He glanced up for a moment. "Maybe you should make it clear to her."

"Last week I used going to Operations Control - even though I was actually going to Accounting - as an excuse to leave just to stop her from asking me to dinner because I didn't want to turn her down." He admitted, keeping his gaze on the papers as his face warming up even more.

"Just let her down easy. Tell her you think she's nice but you aren't interested in a romantic relationship with her." Bucky suggested with a shrug.

A comfortable silence settled between them as they both worked on their respective tasks. Occasionally, there was a soft whirring of the computers as the fans turned on to cool them down or of Bucky's arm as he moved. It was because of this that they both heard the footsteps rushing toward the office.

"Papa, I finished my homework! Can you check my multiplication worksheet?" Angelica came dashing in, holding a folder to her chest, and smiling broadly.

"Inside voice, kiddo. Inside voice." Y/N looked up with a gently chastizing expression. "But, yes. I can check your math." 

Angelica stopped with wide-eyes, actually noticing the man on the couch for the first time since she'd sprinted in. There went the plan of setting up a meeting time for Bucky and the ball of energy.

Bucky glanced up and gave her a quick smile that reminded Y/N of the one he gave to people when they held doors open for him. It was full of awkward friendliness and Y/N had sympathy for him.

"You're James Buchanan Barnes." She said in amazement, smiling broadly in return. She bounced on the balls of her feet, barely containing her enthusiasm.

"Uh, yep. That's my name, but you really don't need to call me James or Barnes or whatever. Just Bucky works." He tucked a strand of hair that had fallen into his vision behind his ear. "And you're..?"

"Angelica. Kiddo, you can barrage Bucky with questions here in a second but I need your math homework if you want me to check it." Y/N chuckled. His daughter snapped out of her daze and rushed to hand her folder to him. She then skipped over to the couch and flopped down next to him.

"Whatcha working on?" She asked in her adorable way, her head tilted.

"Code cracking for your dad." Bucky hummed, shifting so he wasn't so closed off.

"Is it fun?"

"Sort of. I'm tired so I'm not exactly at a functioning level." He bounced his foot slightly. "I think you're the only person I've met who has been starstruck and knew my actual name."

"I did a project last month about you for history. That lesson was the only one that was not boring." Angelica swung her legs. "I think you're pretty cool."

"Oh," Bucky said, looking at the notebook. "Uh, thanks."

Y/N glanced up from the multiplication problems to see a blush spreading across the badass Winter Soldier's face. He smiled secretly and returned to the multiplication, scanning just to be sure his math whiz of a kid hadn't missed anything in her speed demon functions.

"Everyone else wanted to do projects on Natasha or Steve or Wanda and no one wanted to do a project on you. Made me mad 'cause they had all these ideas about you that were, like, not at all true but they didn't know that 'cause they jus' listened to their parents and didn't take ten minutes to think for themselfs." Angelica glared at the floor in her very childlike stern manner. "There's a reason you're a hero but they wouldn't know that 'cause all they'd heard was that you were a bad guy. So someone had to tell them otherwise."

"Alright, kiddo. This all looks correct. Good job." Y/N tucked the papers back into her folder and set his pen aside. She hopped off the couch and took her folder back with a smile. "Bucky and I need to get back to work, so you'll have to scram, okay?"

"Wanda said she'd teach me how to make some food from her homeland when I was done with my homework," Angelica told him.

"You remember the rules?"

"Yep!" 

"Then scram. Have fun." Y/N gently shoved her shoulder and she giggled.

"Bye, Bucky! See you later!" Angelica said, pausing at the door to give him a wave.

"See ya around, sweetie." He waved back with a friendly smile before she took off running down the hall again. "She is quite the ball of energy."

"You have no idea." Y/N laughed, picking the file back up. "She didn't make you uncomfortable or anything, right? She tends to get loud and talkative when she's super excited."

"No, no. It was cute. I've...never really had someone act like that the first time I've met them. Usually, they're all wary and distrustful like I'm some feral dog that has to be danced around." Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair. His lips were pressed into a firm line and he glared at the notebook.

"You know, when she did that project on you, she wouldn't stop talking about you for weeks. I've seen her get passionate about things before, but for some reason, she was extra determined to prove to everyone that you're a good guy now." Y/N smiled fondly. "She likes seeing the good in people. Always have, and probably always will."

"I think she takes after you on that one," Bucky mumbled under his breath. "This should let you decode the information. They mixed codes a lot just to be extra sure no one could sell the intel."

Y/N took his notebook and pen back with a nod. "Thanks. This will help a ton."

Bucky stood, wincing slightly as his knee popped. "I'll leave you to it, then."

"Oh, I have a deal proposition before you go." Y/N stopped him with a smirk. 

"I'm listening." Bucky arched a brow.

"You bring my drink every morning and every time Angelica plans a prank on you or a prank that could affect you, I'll let you know. If she asks, just say it's a super-soldier superpower or something." Y/N offered with a mischievous grin. "We have a deal?"

"We have a deal." Bucky shook his hand. 

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Taglist - @supernaturalwintersoldier​ @shadowolf993​ @myybebe @pastel-boy-sungjae​

[wkemeup]

Obsession

summary: Targeted after your complicated relationship with Bucky ends up on every news channel in the city, your stalker takes things into his own hands to ensure that you belong to him, and him alone.

pairing: bucky x reader

word count: 11.2k

warnings: stalking, kidnapping, mild torture/violence, people being assholes to Bucky, 

authors’s note: oooo man Ive been dying to write something like this for  awhile and I’m so happy I could incorporate a prompt from @afewmarvelousthoughts’ writing challenge! My prompt was “We’re going to be ok” Hope you enjoy!! ✨

Bucky has been through more in his lifetime than most, survived more than he should. He’d been drafted into the US army in the second world war and given a group of men to lead through the trenches of hell. He’d been a prisoner of war, twice, experimented on, tortured, beaten and mutilated for a cause he never agreed to. He’d been ripped of his memories, of his innocence, and broken down into a shell of his former self, forced to carry out orders for the vilest organization in known history.

He’d been destroyed from the inside out, in every sense of the term, and still, nothing torn through him with a paralyzing fear quite like the moment he found out you’d been taken.

O N E  M O N T H  E A R L I E R

“So, Y/n has a stalker.”

Bucky choked on his cereal as Tony strode into the kitchen with a hand full of manila envelopes, sporting a single raised eyebrow and a purse of his lips.

You giggled as milk trailed down Bucky’s chin, rubbing soft circles on his back until the coughing fit subsided. You nudged his shoulder as you scooped up a bite of honey nut cheerios from his bowl while he was distracted. He narrowed his eyes and you only shrugged in response, cheeks full of cereal and a drop of milk slipping from between your lips.

You didn’t seem to be bothered in the slightest by Tony’s announcement and yet Bucky’s palms were starting to sweat and his breaths were coming in a bit harsher than usual. He was a world class assassin, could take out a moving target from a mile away, was exceptionally calm under pressure to the point where he felt more at peace with the handle of a knife nestled in his grip than a cup of tea. That all went out the window when you were involved.

“What makes you so sure it’s a stalker and not some overly enthusiastic fan?” Clint piped up from the couch, eyes still glued on his book.

Bucky nodded to himself, attempting to bring his heart rate back to a normal pace before you could pick up on it.

Clint was right. The avengers had fans. It wasn’t a surprise that a few of them could take things a little too far. Steve has been bombarded for pictures while trying to pick up pizza from his favorite shop in Brooklyn more than once and Parker had to give hell to a few male fans not too long ago who had tried to push a girl down while she was asking politely for his autograph.

Luckily, Bucky wasn’t usually on the receiving ends of those sorts of things. The public still had a complicated relationship with the Winter Soldier, but he didn’t much mind. He was one of the few of the team who could still walk down the street without being bothered for pictures. Even without his metal arm in view, pedestrians still parted like the red sea when he walked in their direction. People would turn away, cower from him if they accidentally made eye contact. Some of the brave ones would take his picture from a distance, careful to shut off the flash, but he noticed.

In the streets, he was left alone.

But not you. No, you were exceptionally adored by the people of New York; always stopped for photos from little girls in dress up costumes hand stitched to match your stealth suit, dozens of interview requests pouring in weekly from esteemed journalists and high school newspapers alike, your image synonymous with relief, safety, and an aura of empowerment not even your critics could touch.

It was because you were so loved by the people, Bucky couldn’t seem to wrap his head around the fact that he was the one you let hold your hand in the quiet hours at the compound, to sleep next to you at night when the nightmares were too much, to pull that smile from your cheeks he fallen so easily for.

Your relationship was complicated, a tangled mess of something a little more than friendship, but there was no doubt in his mind how he felt for you. You’d make his heart jump every time you’d walk in the door, had this uncanny ability to make him smile even on his darkest days, and you took him as he was, unapologetically and without judgement.

You were everything to him.

Voicing it aloud was something entirely different.

He knew the world would never accept a relationship between you and him. You were too kind, too selfless and generous, and he was a monster by the public’s standard, an instrument of Hydra. So, he kept his feelings hidden far away in the back of his chest and held onto the small stolen moments he had with you. For now, it was enough.

It was well known amongst the team the connection you shared, but no one dared bring it up. Not after you nearly chewed everyone out when Sam had caught you carding your fingers in Bucky’s hair during a movie night when the explosions on the screen felt too real. You had only scooted closer to him, brought his head to lean against your chest as you raked your nails soothingly against his scalp, tossing Sam a glare whenever he so much as looked in Bucky’s direction.

It was always you and Bucky.

On missions. In the gym. Making pancakes in the morning. Binge watching on the couch ‘till three in the morning. Pulling pranks on Sam.

Racing to the other’s room in the dead of night when a scream ripped through the halls. Sitting in a folding chair in the med bay for hours on end when one of you was injured in the field. Unwilling to leave for even a moment until you knew the other was okay.

You and Bucky.

Tony pinched at the bridge of his nose and Bucky found himself drawn to the manila envelopes tucked under his arm. “No ordinary fan does shit like this.”

With that, Tony let out a heavy sigh, and pulled out a stack of photographs from the first envelope. He tossed them down the table until they spread out over the surface. Bucky froze, breath hitching in his chest as his eyes darted to the pictures; each image a picture of you in various locations, unaware of the camera.

Bucky couldn’t help but instinctively slide closer to you, his thigh brushing yours just to ground himself. He watched nervously as you glanced over the pictures curiously, eyes flickering to ones of you walking out of a cafe in Queens, one in your tactical gear where you led bystanders out of the path of whatever chaos was erupting in the streets, one of you chatting casually with Wanda with an iced coffee in your hand.

You narrowed your eyes, picking up one of you on your morning jog. You were standing by a bench in central park, wrist raised as if you were about to check your heart rate when something caught your attention. Your eyes stared in the direction of the camera, but you hadn’t seen it, just a little too far to the left.

There were dozens more. All from over the last three years since you’d joined the Avengers.

“How did you get these?” Nat asked, holding up a picture of you wearing that teal blouse that always seemed to make Bucky’s heart stop as you took a picture with a fan on the street, oblivious to the photographer behind this particular photo.

“Special delivery straight to my office,” Tony replied, rolling his eyes. “No return address, of course.”

Bucky found his eyes caught on a photo of you walking down an empty side street in Brooklyn, dressed casually in blue jeans ripped at the knees, a grey knit sweater, and a smile thrown over your shoulder as you looked behind you to something outside of the camera’s range. Bucky remembered that day well. You were looking at him. It was the first day he had agreed to let you drag him to the coffee shop you’d been telling him about for months.

“Oh, that’s not all,” Tony grumbled, pulling Bucky from his trance as he disbursed a second wave of evidence. This time, handwritten letters in thick black ink.

Bucky scooped up one of the dozens of crinkled papers. He began to read aloud, “Today I saw you by your favorite bagel shop in Queens. Each day you grow more beautiful and I stop to wonder if you’re not Aphrodite herself. You were wearing that yellow sundress you know that I love and I bought you sunflowers to match. You’ll find these with your captors’ assistant—” Bucky shook his head. “Captors?”

“Must be us,” Steve said as he started to read one of the letters himself. “It’s signed ‘with all my love, Eros.’”

“This asshole calls himself Eros?” Sam scoffed. “What kind of a name is that?”

“The Greek god of lust,” Nat replied casually and you laughed under your breath. Only Bucky seemed to notice. He couldn’t understand why his stomach was twisting into knots and you were seemingly unaffected by this.

“I’ve got everyone working on finding this freak,” Tony said, gathering up the photographs and letters. “We’ll find him, Y/n. Don’t worry.”

You only shrugged and finished eating your cereal, sending Bucky a wink that didn’t ease the tension in his gut.

After the team had disbursed and only you and Bucky remained at the table, even long after you’d both finished your breakfast, he finally gained the courage to ask, “how are you so calm about this?”

You smiled, your hand brushing over his shoulder, leaving goosebumps in their wake. It was a soothing motion you had grown to do for him over the years and Bucky leaned into it subconsciously. You had a way of easing him before he could realize what you were doing.

“I’ve known about Eros for years,” you admitted. Bucky narrowed his eyes in shock. “He’s been sending me letters since I became more public as an Agent. I knew him back when I was living in Queens before I joined the Avengers, before I met you, too.”

You must have noticed the flash of panic across his face because you reached up and brushed a hair from his eyes, smiling sweetly at him, enough to unravel the knots in his stomach.

“He’s harmless, Buck,” you said and he wished he could believe you. “I brought it to the local PD when he first showed up and they said they’d seen this stuff a million times. Men like this are cowards and they get off on appreciating from afar. He’ll never act on his delusional affection for me. Besides, I’m a highly skilled Agent of Shield and I live in a glorified dormitory for superheroes. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

Bucky nodded as you carded your fingers through his hair. As an exhale left his lips, you stood up to wash both of your dishes. Bucky watched you as you hummed to yourself, dipping the bowls in the soapy water, and he tried to convince himself that you were right, that this Eros would never make a move on you, that it would only every amount to creepy photographs and love letters.

He should have listened to his gut.

***

Bucky sat across from you, huddled in the corner of the small family owned café in Brooklyn you loved so much. Adorned in an oversized sweatshirt and your hair tucked back into a bun at the base of your neck, a few strands falling out to frame your face, and a pair of sunglasses in hopes to conceal your identity, you blew carefully on the surface of your tea. The steam wavered slightly and you crinkled your nose as you took a sip.

Bucky smiled to himself, adjusting the rim of his baseball cap and glancing over his shoulder at the hustle of commotion coming from the kitchen. Just a black coffee for himself, he didn’t pay much mind to the scalding temperature as it passed his lips, too transfixed in the way your eyes shifted, a gentle smile curving against your cheeks, as you watched an older couple settling down at the table off of Bucky’s left.

It was your tradition; one you insisted could not be postponed even with Eros lingering over your shoulder. It was nothing new, you told Bucky. It wasn’t going to get in the way of your weekly Sunday morning tea and coffee in Brooklyn. It wasn’t always this shop and it wasn’t always on Sundays in the weeks your missions interfered, but you had insisted it was important to keep up with. You wanted to make sure Bucky felt at home in Brooklyn again, felt safe to be out in the streets, and he appreciated that more than you knew.

When both cups had been drained and the server had stopped by to retrieve the empty mugs, Bucky slid a few dollars onto the table and followed you to the door. It had been a while since the two of you had a genuine day off and Eros was virtually silent for the time being, so you convinced him to take the longer route back to the tower. Bucky was keen to do just about anything you asked of him.

So, as you led him through the streets of New York, purposely taking turns onto the less crowded sidewalks, you told him about Sam’s latest prank he planned to pull, giving him a warning Bucky was sure Sam would not appreciate, though you only giggled to yourself and held your pointer finger over your lips to hush him. You told him about your encounter with a little girl asking for your autograph while you were on your morning run and the sunrise you’d had the privilege of seeing.

As you passed a group of kids playing basketball in a small parking lot, you asked for the third time in as many weeks if was absolutely sure he didn’t want to come do a mentor day with you at the Boys and Girls Club.

“The kids would really love you, Buck,” you said sincerely and Bucky knew you truly did believe it, though he struggled to find the truth it in himself.

“Steve’s got me trying to train the new recruits in hand to hand, so I won’t be able to make it this time, doll. I’m sorry,” Bucky muttered out, pressing his lips out into an apologetic smile.

It was a bullshit excuse, one he’d given before, though you never called him out on it. You knew him well enough to understand he didn’t trust himself enough to be around kids, to be a role model when he could hardly stand to look at his own reflection in the mirror.

So when your hand snaked into his, curling against hard metal as you walked, Bucky’s heart nearly skipped a beat. He never gave you enough credit for how perceptive you were. You just smiled up at him, leaning your head on his shoulder for the smallest of moments, and the gesture told him everything he needed to hear.

That you understood. That you were there for him. That you’d wait until he was ready. That it was okay to take his time.

A light squeeze in his hand and you tugged him out of the way of a runner he almost didn’t see coming. It wasn’t the first time you held his hand in public, but it was the first time you didn’t let go after a few paces. It wasn’t a stolen moment captured before anyone else could see or do double take in your direction. Ten paces later and you hadn’t let go. One block. Two blocks. Nearly ten blocks later and your hand still set carefully in his.

He had never wished his left arm could feel more than he did right now. He could sense the pressure, articulate the warmth of your palm, feel the trace of your thumb back and forth against his soothingly as you walked, but it read like data. He wondered if you’d let him switch to your other side but he was too afraid that maybe just acknowledging it would be enough to make it stop and he couldn’t risk it.

“But, uh,” Bucky cleared his throat nervously, “maybe you’d want to help me lead this training Monday morning for the rookies?”

He grimaced as the words left his tongue, already berating himself for taking nearly ten minutes of silence just to work up the courage to ask. Your hand in his was making him light-headed and he swore you could just feel the absolute abhorrent rate of his heart beat. When he looked over at you, he was relieved to find your lips curving up into your cheeks.

“Of course! I will absolutely be there!” you grinned wildly, enough to make Bucky’s stomach weak. “You know I love kicking the ass of some of those cocky agents fresh out the academy who think they own the place.”

Bucky chuckled under his breath, nodding fondly as he remembered the time you had an arrogant frat boy on his back within three seconds of sparring.

He paused at the red light, waiting for the crosswalk to signal for them to pass, when he noticed your face light up at the sight of the ice cream shop you had told him about a few weeks ago. Your smile was so infectious, Bucky didn’t even realize the grin on his face until his cheeks started to hurt.

“Oh Bucky, we have to go!” you exclaimed giddily, your other hand wrapping around your waist to hold onto his forearm. You were practically jumping with joy and Bucky felt his heart swell. The very second the crosswalk lit green, you began tugging him towards the shop and Bucky dragged his feet just for the drama of it, chuckling under his breath as you used your entire body weight against him.

“Bucky, come on!” you laughed, and Bucky realized he hadn’t felt that carefree in years.

The moment he gave in, you dragged him up to the line extending out the door, your hand still planted firmly in his. You grinned up at him, excited in almost a child-like state that Bucky couldn’t seem to get enough of it. You were in the middle of listing your top ten favorite flavors when a voice behind him caught his attention.

“Is that Y/n Y/l/n and the Winter Soldier?”

Bucky’s whole body stiffened. Being recognized in public never went well for him.

“Can’t be,” a second voice scoffed, also male, though a bit deeper in tone. They were further back in the line than Bucky realized, his super solider senses picking up what you didn’t readily hear yourself. “Why the hell would a dime like that be on a date with a psychopath?”

Bucky swallowed thickly and he hadn’t noticed your eyes catch up at him worryingly.

“Bucky? Are you alright?” you glanced back down the line and though you couldn’t find any threats. You could still sense his entire body tensing and you ran your hand soothingly along his arm in hopes draw away some of the strain. You knew him too well.

“Holy shit, it totally is,” the first voice echoed, a snicker in his voice as he must have caught sight of you looking back in their direction. “Wonder if she feels sorry for him...”

“You think she’s pity fucked him yet?”

Bucky visibly winced, recoiling at the man’s taunt as they snickered behind him and he could only vaguely register you running your fingers up and down his arm, the other gripping tightly to his hand.

A group of four exited the line and the two men were suddenly standing directly behind Bucky. He could hear them struggle to hold their laughs under their breath, swatting at one another to shut the other up with no success.

“Can’t believe they let him in the same team as Captain America. Didn’t know we were letting war criminals become superheroes these days,” one deeper voice went on in a hushed whisper, unable to stop himself and his friend laughed in response. Bucky felt you take in a deep breath, your grip on his hand tightening and he knew you heard.

“It’s fine, Y/n. Just ignore them,” Bucky implored, whispering low enough so only you could hear him. You shook your head, gritting at your teeth, though you did your best to do as he asked, despite how difficult these men made it.

“How many people as he killed again?”

“How the hell isn’t he locked up in a cell right now?”

“Can’t imagine why she would want to be anywhere near that freak...”

“Should probably have him committed to a mental state with the fucked up mess in his head.”

“Hydra should’ve just spared us all and killed him when they had the chance.”

That was the final straw.

Bucky winced as you spun around on your heels, dropping his hand and shoving yours hard into the man’s chest. He stumbled back a few paces and fell straight to the sidewalk.

“You wanna say that again, asshole?” you spat as the man cowered back and you stalked toward him, his friend hulling quickly him up to his feet. “You wanna talk shit about a decorated Sergeant of the United States Army?”

“N-No! Sorry ma’am!” the boy stammered out, couldn’t have been any older than twenty. Flip flops, cargo shorts, a university t-shirt. He was practically a child.

Bucky watched as cell phones sprung up from everyone in line, trained on you, as they began to recognize who you were. A few faces turned in Bucky’s direction, eyes wide in realization as many took a cautious step away from him, and he did his best to hide his face with the collar of his jacket.

He didn’t know how it happened, but suddenly reporters were swarming around the shop, bystanders shoved out of the way for cameras and microphones. The two men scrambled away and ran down the street, leaving you and Bucky at the center of flashing lights and microphones shoved in your faces.

Bucky reached out for you in the chaos, unconsciously searching for your hand. His heart only seemed to calm for a moment when he felt you grip the flesh of his right hand when the reporters started shouting questions over top of one another.

“Y/n! Y/n!”

“Tell us Agent Y/l/n, when did you start dating the Winter Soldier!”

“How long have you been together!”

“What does Captain America think!”

“What’s that arm like in bed!”

Bucky yanked you against his chest, guarding you from the camera flashes as you pushed your face into the crook of his jacket. Left arm out ahead of him acting as a shield, he attempted to push forward into the mass of reporters blocking your path but was met with too much resistance. There was no consideration to force them from his path, his public image already a nightmare without adding assaulting a journalist to the list.

The questions kept coming at you a mile a minute, and to Bucky’s relief you were able to ignore them. Until they started asking questions of a different nature.

“What are your thoughts on his dozens of war crimes!”

“Do you trust his affiliation to the Avengers!”

“What about his involvement in the attack on D.C.!”

“Do you believe he could still be working for Hydra!”

A growl ripped through you unlike Bucky had ever heard and you spun around to face the reporters, unveiling yourself from Bucky’s grasp as you shoved a hand to the microphones, swatting them away.

“Enough!” you shouted and the reporters silenced immediately. Your hand was still tied to his, gripping it tight enough to remind him you were still there even as he stood a step behind you. “You have no goddamn right to talk about him like that! James Barnes is a veteran who gave his life in service of this country! He was a prisoner of war for decades and has gone through more in his lifetime than any you could begin to imagine! He’s kind and selfless and the best man I know, so show some goddamn respect!”

With that, you whipped back around, hair flipping over your shoulders as you tugged Bucky away from the flashing cameras and stunned mass of reporters. They didn’t attempt to follow you after that.

The walk back to the tower was silent, though Bucky could feel you squeeze his hand every few paces, a careful glance up to his face. He didn’t know how to react. He knew you cared for him, he’d be a fool not to know that by now, but the way you defended him so fiercely, without even a second thought, made his legs feel weak. That footage would air on every news outlet in the city that night.

The only problem was that Eros would see it, too. Though, neither of you knew that quite yet.

***

Bucky first knew something was wrong when you didn’t show up to Monday morning training with the recruits. He had reminded you just an hour earlier when you slipped out from his bed to carefully tread back to your room for your running clothes. You had scoffed at him, feigning offense that he would even suggest you’d forget. He could still feel your fingers tickling over the bare of his back as he had curled up into the pillow for an extra hour of sleep. You promised you’d be back in time for the training.

Ten minutes past nine and still no sign of you, Bucky let out a heavy sigh and shouted for the recruits to follow him to the sparring ring.

Nearly two hours of training later, sweat dripping down his brow and a pleasant ache in his muscles, and you had yet you walk through the door.

He did his best to focus on the training, providing insight into the agent’s hand-to-hand formations and demonstrating techniques he had learned in his decades of combat. It proved rather difficult when an agent lingering near the back grumbled snide comments at every opportunity; everything ranging from Bucky’s role at an instructor to being personally offended that you weren’t here just for him to ogle at the way you looked in your workout leggings. It took most of Bucky’s self-control to make sure he still held his punches when he faced that particular agent in the ring.

“Good work today,” Bucky grunted to the young agents as he grabbed a towel and brushed it over his face, thankful it was over. He jumped over the barriers of the ring to find the agent who had been tossing a few unfavorable lines to his friends throughout the training waiting for him.

“I thought Y/n was going to join us today,” he remarked with a spiteful tone, as if Bucky’s presence had insulted him in some way. His friends snickered behind him as they watched.

Bucky rolled his eyes, his back to the agent before he turned around. “Agent Y/l/n had something come up. Maybe you should focus on the weak points in your stance rather than objectifying the best agent we have.”

A quick jag to the agent’s left side, one to his collarbone, and another to his right knee and the agent doubled over. His friends rushed forward to help him back up and Bucky chuckled to himself, exiting the gym before word got to Steve that he stepped out of line with another arrogant agent.

Bucky walked out into the kitchen for a glass of water to find the entire team gathered around the table. He paused at the threshold of the room as every pair of eyes landed on him. Tony stood at the end of the table, a solemn look upon his face and a heavy manila envelope in his hand. Bucky’s stomach dropped before he took another step forward.

“Thought you might want to see this first,” Tony said carefully and handed Bucky the envelope. Bucky stared at it for a moment, studying the folder marked with ‘To the Avengers, Signed Eros’ on the front, no return address, before he glanced back up to the team. Tony could only clench his jaw, sink down into the chair as his hand brushed over his mouth.

Trembling hands worked at the metal clips of the envelop that suddenly felt too heavy to carry. The team watched carefully as Bucky pulled a pile of pictures from the folder.

They were dark in color, lighting dim, but Bucky could make you out upon the image clear as day. Blood trailed down the side of your face, tape pressed over your mouth, and arms tied behind your back as you were clearly struggling against restraints, parts of your body blurred in the sudden movements captured in the photograph.

Bucky could hardly breathe, his chest twisting and burning, angry tears prickling in his eyes. He dropped the first photo to the floor, flipping through the rest only to find more of the same.

Photo after photo of you wincing as the flash lit the darkened room, close ups of the wound on your head where Eros must have knocked you out, a tear in your leggings at the knee, your wrists tied to the back of the chair in painful knots, red skin burning under the rope. Wide eyes, reflection of tears on your cheeks, and Bucky dropped the rest of the photos to the ground.

Paper thin and they fell with deafening sound.

The team swarmed in, each gathering a few photos to examine, to attempt to find any kind of clue to your location through the subtleties in the background of the images, but Bucky couldn’t stand to look at them any longer. He couldn’t see you like that, vulnerable, scared. It wasn’t right, didn’t sit well upon your features. He never thought he’d have to see you so afraid.

As the team argued amongst themselves over what farfetched lead to pursue first, Bucky found himself backing out of the room. He couldn’t let himself stop and think about the moment you were taken or what Eros was doing to you at this moment or how long you had been held hostage by this psychopath before anyone even realized you were gone.

There was nothing he could do but wait. Tony had the most advanced technology available outside of Wakanda, so if anyone had a chance in finding you off of these photos alone, it was him.

So, Bucky retreated to the one place he thought might be able to ground him.

He stood outside the door to your room for nearly five minutes before he let himself turn the knob. It was cold to the touch and the door squeaked as he stepped inside, something he had grown to be cautious of in the early hours of the morning when he’d seek you out after a particularly bad nightmare. You’d let him crawl into the bed next to you and even though he’d try to keep his body at the furthest edge of your bed, you’d still find a way to curl up against him and ease away the afflictions in his mind.

Bucky swallowed back the lump in his throat as stepped further into the room, taking in the smell of your freshly washed laundry and the faint scent of the vanilla candle you burned when you read at night. Framed pictures covered your shelves in the spaces absent of your collection of books and trinkets. Imaged of the avengers in their most human qualities; some candid, laughing and blissfully unaware of the camera, some posed, arms throw around one another, the widest smiles up their faces.

Though one in particular drew his attention. It was an image of you and Bucky; a selfie he had agreed to take after much persuasion while you were on a mission in Paris together and decided to stay an extra day after you recovered your intel. The Champs-Élysées stood in the background just over Bucky’s left shoulder. You were curled up against his side, arms wrapped tightly around his waist as he let his arm drape over your shoulders.

Bucky was the only one looking at the camera though, a smile curved on his pressed lips as you looked up at him, seemingly caught mid-laugh, the brightest look in your eye he’d ever seen.

He picked up the photo, holding it carefully in his hands, as a dried flower slipped out from behind the frame, falling delicately to the floor. He bent down to retrieve it, examining it in his hand for a moment until he recognized what it was from.

It was the first elaborate party he had agreed to go to after you had spent nearly an entire week begging him to come with you. If he was honest, he only gave in after Nat showed him the dress you were going to wear; long, forest green, with gemstones in the details and a neckline that was sure to kill him. Not much else could have convinced him to put on a suit and stand around at some stuffy gala to promote a public image he knew he’d never find the favor of.

He had felt a little awkward, showing up at your room to pick you up for something as fancy as this without anything to give to you. He was still a man of his time after all, so he had clipped the end of a carnation from the vase sitting in the center of the table that Wanda had picked from the garden, and handed it awkwardly to you as you opened the door. It was the first time he saw you blush.

He couldn’t believe you actually kept it. The gala was nearly a year ago.

“Buck?”

Breath caught in his throat, Bucky set the frame and the flower back on the shelf before turning around to find Steve leaning against the doorframe.

“Hey Steve.”

“We’re gonna find her,” he said, knowing exactly the train of agonizing thoughts swarming in Bucky’s mind.

“What if we don’t? What if this is it and I never told her that I--” he sucked in a breath, unable to finish the sentence aloud. “I can’t lose her, Stevie. I can’t...”

“I know,” Steve sighed. “Tony’s got everyone on this. All we can do is wait.”

Bucky nodded, but found he couldn’t seem to meet his friend’s eye. He sat on the edge of your bed, hands clenching at his knees as the bed dipped slightly when Steve took a seat next to him.

He didn’t know how long they sat there together in silence, could have been hours as far as Bucky knew. Steve’s hand would find its way onto Bucky’s shoulder every so often, just enough to offer him a light squeeze, remind him he was there when he noticed Bucky’s breathing increase a little too harshly.

Then, a subtle knock on the door and Bucky turned to find Nat standing just beyond the frame.

“Suit up. We’ve got something.”

***

Bucky woke to a blinding pulse at the back of his head. Struggling to adjust to the dim lighting of the room, he reached to the nape of his neck and touched a sticky wet substance. He didn’t need to inspect his fingers to know they’d be marked in red.

As he tried to stand, he found that he was met with a resistance in his left arm. Narrowed eyes glanced down to find his wrist secured to the wall, bound by a thick titanium band bolted into the cement.

He cursed under his breath, slumping down into the floor. He tried to think back to what had gone wrong, but his memory was hazy. He remembered enough to know that Tony’s AI had located the general vicinity Eros was holding you within a five mile radius and the team had split up to cover the most ground. Bucky took the north east quadrant on his own, despite Steve’s protests.

Whatever got him, he never saw it coming. Though, a concentrated burning in his side told him he’d been hit by a taser. Eros must have got him over the head when he was incapacitated by the electricity in his veins. A coward’s offense.

As Bucky’s eyes began to adjust to the room and he sucked in a harsh breath at what he saw.

Hand developed photographs were stung around the room in rows crossing above his head, taped against the wall, and throw along the floors. Some that he recognized from the day Tony had introduced the team to Eros, others from various locations around the city, some from before Bucky even knew you back when you were living in Queens near your cousin.

Though, there were a few, ones with dark red borders that caught his attention. Ones that made his stomach drop and left a deep unsettling ache in his chest.

Pictures of you with him.

Eros had written LIAR and TRAITOR over the images of you and Bucky in your tactical gear emerging from the helicarrier after a mission in Paris, over images of you walking next to Bucky down the busy streets back when he was sure to keep a careful distance from you, across pictures of you sitting next to Bucky in central park the day you had convinced him to start reading the Harry Potter books.

Labels of WHORE and SLUT carved upon images of you staring fondly at Bucky across a table in the café in Brooklyn you loved so much, upon images of the brief moments you had gathered his hand in yours in public, and over smiling faces as he had pretended to struggle to keep up with you on your morning jog. Stolen moments when you thought no one could see, not even Bucky.

In every image, his face was burned out with the hot edge of a lighter.

Suddenly, a sharp clicking at the door rang out into the room and Bucky recognized it as the locks unfastening. He steadied himself, back straight against the wall though he had no leverage sitting on the floor. His arm affixed to the cement didn’t allow for much else.

The door creaked open slowly and a muffled grunt echoed in from the hall. Some kind of commotion; a struggle, maybe. Bucky narrowed his eyes, craning his neck to get a better view, when the door slammed against the adjacent wall. His heart leapt at the sound, though nothing was quite like the twist of dread in his stomach at what followed.

You were thrown into the room, sliding hard on your shoulder and hip as you fell to the ground. Your arms were bound in front of you, wrists red and raw beneath the ropes, and blood dripped from the side of your face. Sweat gleamed over your skin, left in your workout gear though there was a tear at the knee, just as in the pictures he had seen earlier that day. A thick swatch of silver tape covered over your lips, muffling the groan you let out as you struggled to your feet. Otherwise, you appeared unharmed, though Bucky still struggled to catch his breath at the sight of you in chains.

A man Bucky assumed to be Eros stalked in behind you and grabbed a firm hold of your wrists, yanking you forcefully to the center of the room where he hooked the cuffs to a latch in the floor. Once secure, Eros backed away, admiring his work.

He was nothing like Bucky imagined him to be; tall, an incredibly average looking man, with thick rimmed glasses and a white button-down shirt. He looked like he had a stable job in an IT start up, albeit a maybe few social limitations, but entirely normal nonetheless. He could have been following you for years and you’d never pay him a second glance. He blended into the background with ease.

The way in which Eros watched you, a sickening smirk upon his lips, enjoying the way your breaths panted in your chest as you tried to brush the sweat from your forehead with your exposed shoulder, only to smear it further on your face.

You were on your knees, bent over to ease at the pain in your wrists. Tugging at the restraints, a heavy exhale left your lips when it didn’t budge. You slumped over onto your hip, an aura of exhaustion and defeat in your features.

Slowly, in agonizing pace, Bucky watched as you took notice of the pictures, eyes falling on the images he shared with you and a surge of panic in the hue of your iris. Your hand right hand curled into a fist to stop the sudden tremors.

Then, before Bucky could quite prepare for it, your eyes landed on him. You let out a guttural cry, though it was muffled against the tape secured over your mouth, as you tugged forcefully at the restraints. You tried to scramble towards him, but you were pulled back by the clang of the metal chain latching taunt.

His name upon your lips was subdued by the tape, your eyes wide and fearful as you looked him over. Bucky’s heart was pounding terribly in his chest, painfully so, as you winced against your bindings the more you attempted to reach him.

“Y/n, look at me. It’s okay,” Bucky urged, as the bindings on your wrist cut through and blood began to drip down to your fingertips. “We’re going to be okay, you hear me? We’re okay.”

You froze for a second, just meeting his eye and Bucky swore he saw a world of pain masked behind your irises. You shook your head subtly as eyes began to redden in the strain. You didn’t believe him. He wasn’t so sure he believed himself.

“Now the real fun can begin,” Eros grinned, stepping away from the wall as he moved to kneel by your side. His hand traced down the side of your cheek and you flinched away, shooting him a glare “Do you like the present I brought you? I thought you’d be happy I retrieved your plaything for you.”

Bucky watched as Eros stood slowly to his feet, a sinister look in his eye. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a long, black rod. He flicked the switch at the bottom and a buzzing sound filled the room, sparks of electricity bursting between the metal prongs at the end.

“Why don’t we have a little fun with him?” Eros smirked as he admired the taser. “It’s seven times the standard issue volts. Should be enough to bring down a super solider, don’t you think?”

You shook your head, words smothered by the tape over your mouth as you struggled to reach Bucky. The chains pulled you back every time.

Bucky met your eye for a moment, silently telling you he could take it, and maybe a part of him did believe that until Eros plunged the taser into his side.

His entire body tensed, slumping down to the floor, rigid, unable to control his limbs as jolts of energy eroded at his muscles. Convulsing tremors, breath caught in his lungs, he could hardly register your stifled screams. It brought him right back to the chair, to Hydra. There was no end in sight.

Then, relief as Eros pulled the taser away and the faint smelt of burnt flesh stung in Bucky’s nostrils. He laid on the floor, motionless.

“This is your hero?” Eros spat at you, nudging Bucky with the tip of his shoe, his body lifelessly slumping back down against the ground when he pulled his foot away, unable to move. “This is the asshole you've been parading around the city with? Huh? This pathetic excuse for a man? When you could be with me?!”

You screamed against the tape, tears brimming in your eyes as Eros brought the taser down to small stretch of skin exposed on Bucky’s collarbone. There wasn’t even a moment to prepare himself before the electricity surged through him again, rendering him completely helpless to the charge. Muscles stiff, body twitching, eyes rolling behind his head, and all he could focus on was your muffled cries.

Eros didn’t let up until he had grown tired of hearing you cry for another man and released Bucky from the electric waves in his veins. He crossed the room and ripped the tape from your mouth. You recoiled at the sudden stinging, clenching your jaw as red marks were left behind on your skin.

Bucky panted, attempting to catch his breath as he slowly hulled himself back to a sitting position. His muscles were too weak, he could barely lift his flesh arm. He weighed thousands of pounds, and his eyes were falling heavy. Brain too fuzzy.

“What do you want with him?” you demanded, voice broken and raw, as your eyes quickly flashed down to Bucky; a lifetime of guilt and apologies swimming in your eyes that took him off guard.

“The question isn’t what I want with him,” Eros responded, “but rather, what you want from him that matters here.”

You narrowed your eyes, glancing up at Eros for only a moment. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Eros shrugged, though there was a coy expression in his lips. “I need you to convince me he won’t come between us. I have seen the way he watches you. I know of his feelings for you. He’s corrupting you, my love; convinced you that he’s some kind of hero when we all know what he truly is. He’s trying to keep us apart; don’t you see that? I can't let that happen to us. I won’t let him take you from me.”

With that, Eros reached into a drawer nestled in the corner of the room and pulled out a handgun. You swallowed thickly, exchanging a nervous glance with Bucky. Eros cocked the gun, clicked off the safety, and in one foul movement, aimed the barrel right at Bucky’s head. Your eyes blew wide as a gasp left your breath.

Eros smirked. “I’m going to free him of us for good. “

Bucky closed his eyes, clenching his jaw as an unsteady breath came in through his nose, preparing for the worst, when he heard you scream.

“NO!”

Eros raised an eyebrow, a twitch in his eye as he stared at you. He hadn’t expected that. He wanted you to fall into his fantasy, to be the woman he made you out to be, who would be relieved that he had destroyed the man who was keeping you from him.

Bucky opened his eyes again, watching the exchange between you and Eros; the way your hands trembled as you closed them into fists, the displeased look upon Eros’ face.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t,” Eros grumbled.

Then, your face hardened, a seeming realization passing over you that Bucky didn’t catch onto. You took in an even breath, straightening your shoulders as you turned to face Eros, a purse in your lips as you glanced over Bucky from the corner of your eye.

“Don’t you want the satisfaction that I chose you over him?” you said breathily and Eros narrowed his eyes, waiting for you to continue. You licked at your lips, keeping your eyes trained on Eros. “There’s no reason to kill him. He's not worth the bullet. He’s not worth anything.”

Bucky swallowed back the bile in this throat, an awful pang in his stomach. He knew you were feeding into the man’s fantasy to bide time but hearing the words come from you, in your voice, hurt more than Bucky was able to hide. Eros must have noticed the way Bucky’s eyes darted to the ground and he sneered, urging you on.

“He’s nothing to me. Nothing,” you pressed, urgency in your voice as Eros took another step in Bucky’s direction, gun still aimed at his head. Your eyes widened as Bucky felt the cool metal of the barrel against his temple. “I was- I was using him! He’s nothing but something to pass the time with. You think I would actually want to be with him? An ex-Hydra hitman with a fucked up brain who can’t even get through a night without crawling into my bed? He’s practically a child. I have no interest in babysitting a grown man.”

A grin tugged at Eros’ lips and he let the barrel of his gun drop just enough for an audible exhale of relief to pass over your lips. Bucky clenched at his jaw, muscles aching in the effort. It didn’t matter how many times he told himself you were lying, that you’d never think those things of him, the pain in his chest only seemed to grow.

“Tell him how you really feel,” Eros demanded.

You didn’t respond, though Bucky could feel your eyes on him, begging him to look at you, but he couldn’t find the strength. His name passed over your lips, a breath so quiet he was sure not even Eros could hear it. He had always cherished the way his name came from your voice, like it was something precious, something that could be loved, adored. But now, it was broken, afraid, aching for a forgiveness he had absolved before the words had even left your tongue.

“Say it to his face!”

Harsh hands took a tight hold of Bucky’s hair, sharp pain in his scalp, yanking him up to meet your eye despite his protests. Bucky could do nothing to fight against him, limbs too weak from the remnants of electricity in his muscles. Eros hulled him like a rag doll, gun pressed up into Bucky’s throat. He tried to swallow, but found it too restricted by the barrel.

Your eyes were wide, fear dilating your pupils, unable to speak. Until the echo of the safety clicking off pierced through the silence of the room.

“You mean nothing to me.”

The words spilled from your lips, barely above a whisper. Bucky’s heart ached as you looked him dead in the eye, willing the emotion from your face as you put on the façade for Eros he so craved.

“I don’t want you. I could never want you,” you continued, struggling to keep your voice flat.

“Good, good,” Eros urged you on.

“You’re weak and- and pathetic.”

Tears brimmed in your eyes and Bucky tried to find a way to tell you he knew, that it was okay, that he understood why you were saying what you did, that he could handle it even if it stung, even if the words lingered in the back of his head after this was all over.

These words were never meant to come from you. He'd heard them before, on the streets from strangers, from the men at Hydra, in his own head. He knows these words well. He never wanted to imagine what they’d sound like in your voice, even if you only spoke them to save his life.

“Keep going,” Eros purred, readjusting his grip in Bucky’s hair, forcing him to wince at the sting in his scalp. “You know exactly what to say.”

You paused, a tear slipping down your cheek.

“You’re a monster. You’re broken and irredeemable and you will never be good enough for me.” Your voice cracked as you spoke the words you had once sworn so adamantly against. You had spent months reminding him at every opportunity that he was more than what Hydra made him, that he was worthy of love, that he was a good man with a kind heart who was dealt the worst cards imaginable.

It felt like all of that was being wiped away in a matter of minutes.

Eros released Bucky’s hair long enough to cross the room to kneel down by your side, his hand jutting out to grab a firm hold of your chin, yanking you to face him. He glared at the tears falling down the sides of your face like they had offended him. A snarl slipped past his lips.

“I don’t believe you,” he spat, shoving you back to the ground.

Eros had crossed the plane of the room before Bucky could realize what was happening and he turned on the television, sliding in a VHS tape to the opening at the bottom. Bucky watched you carefully, taking note of the way you couldn’t look in his direction, eyes focused on the floor.

The white and grey fuzz in on the screen soon transitioned into an image of you standing in front of a series of microphones. Bucky narrowed his eyes, watching as Eros hit play and your voice echoed through the room. It was from the day you had defended Bucky to the journalists in front of the ice cream shop. They played iPhone footage a bystander captured of you shoving the college kid out of the line after he and his friend took their comments a step too far, then switched to your impromptu press conference.

“He’s kind and selfless and the best man I know-” your voice rang out before Eros hit pause, rewinding it again.

“He’s kind and selfless and the best man I know-”

“He’s kind and selfless and the best man I know-”

You winced at every line; every scratch of the tape as it rewound to play again. Eros stood with his hands crossed over his chest, a rage building in his eye with every word. He paused the recording and Bucky caught sight of the way your hand clasped into his came into view in the bottom corner of the screen in between transitions in the chyron.

“Does that look like a woman who believes an ounce of the bullshit you just tried to push off on me!” Eros roared, shoving the tv off the stand and it fell to the ground with a thud heavy enough for Bucky to wince. The screen cracked, jets of green and blue obstructing the image of the tape until it flickered and faded to black.

“He’s manipulating you! Don’t you see that!?” Eros crossed the room, yanking the gun from his jeans once again and aiming it in Bucky’s direction.

“No! Please, I’ll do anything!” you begged, a sob cracking in your voice as you threw aside all pretenses of the façade. “I’ll- I’ll stay with you! I won’t try to run! Just, please, don’t hurt him!”

“Pathetic,” Eros spat, kicking away your hand as you reached for him. “You have no idea what he’s done to you!”

Eros straightened his back, a steady breath in as he adjusted the positioning of his weapon, clicking back the safety. “Once he’s gone, you’ll see.”

Bucky was only able to meet your eye for a moment before the deafening sound of the gunfire rang through the encased space. There was a terrible ache in his stomach, though he found he couldn’t quite focus on that with you screaming just a few feet away from him, tears falling down your face as you yanked against the chains binding you to the floor.

He only stared at you, watching intently as a ringing buzzed his in ears, muffling your cries. He wondered briefly why you were so upset when his right hand reached to touch the pain in his stomach and his fingers were coated in blood. Bringing his hand out in front of him, he examined the red glistening against his skin and his vision started to blur.

He slumped down onto his back, a faint chuckling registering as Eros crouched over him. Bucky could hardly keep his eyes open and even through his haze, he knew your face was the last thing he wanted to see when the darkness took him in; the tender look behind your eyes he had come to adore, the curve of your nose, the faded scar on your forehead from your first mission together, the hue of your lips. He just needed to see you one last time.

Bucky turned his head away from Eros to find your eyes bloodshot in red, blood oozing from your wrists, as you desperately tried to reach him with no avail. Tears streamed down your face and you were screaming, words he couldn’t quite understand, as he felt the cool edge of a barrel press to his temple. Eros smirked.

Then suddenly, a loud bang and Bucky watched hazily as your attention diverted to the door. A second gunshot rang out and Eros was suddenly on the floor.

Bucky’s lids were falling too heavy, he could hardly make out the sound of at least four sets of footsteps racing into the room. As he struggled to push his eyes open, he found a blur of red hair, hands working at the cuff on his left wrist with a laser.

His chest felt heavy. Each breath harder to take in. He let his eyes fall shut.

Then, he was being shaken forcefully, his left arm fallen to his side away from the wall, and he jolted his eyes open again to find you hovering over him. Steve stood just above your shoulder attempting to draw you away gently, though you clung onto Bucky with all you had.

Your hands gripped into his jacket, tears falling into his suit.

“Don’t do this! Don’t leave me! P-Please, Bucky! I need you to- to stay awake... Please!” you sobbed and Bucky wanted nothing more than to reach up and brush his hand over the side of your face, capturing the tears with his thumb as they fell, but his arm was too heavy. He couldn’t lift it.

He tried to nod, to tell you he’d do anything and everything you asked, but instead, his lids began to fall. The last thing he saw was Steve lunging down to scoop you into his arms as you kicked and screamed against him, desperate to throw yourself back towards Bucky.

Hands gripped under his body and then, he was floating.

***

Bucky woke to an influx of white light and a steady, high pitched beeping. He groaned, squinting his eyes as he attempted to adjust to the room, only to recognize it as the med bay of the avenger's compound. A quick glance to his left and he saw the red line on the monitor displaying his heart rhythm. To his right, you sat curled up in a chair, your hand grasping his as you slept and Bucky could hear the beeping pick up in pace as he finally took notice of your intertwined fingers.

He sank back into his bed, a semblance of relief passing over him as he let his thumb brush over your hand. Your nose scrunched in your sleep, adjusting your position in this chair Bucky could only wonder how you’d been able to find rest in. The days Bucky found himself in your position, he’d be leaning so far over the bed, he’d practically be on top of you just trying to find a position that didn’t kill his back.

He barely even noticed the lingering ache in his stomach when he looked at you.

“She’s been here for two days.”

Steve stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame as his lips curved into a soft smile. Bucky exhaled, nodding. He should have known. At least someone convinced you to shower and put on some fresh clothes. Cho must have wrapped your wrists as well and attended to the wound on your head. It brought him some peace to know you had been looked after while he slept.

“What happened?” he asked groggily, his voice raspier than he realized. His left hand ghosted over the bandages wrapped around his stomach.

Steve sighed, stepping further into the room, his arms folding over his chest. “Red Wing caught sight of you through a small crack in the foundation of the wall and alerted us to your coordinates, but we were too late. By the time we heard the gunshot, we had just entered the building. Eros was leaning over you, had a gun to the side of your head, and Nat didn’t hesitate to take the shot. Sam untied Y/n and... Buck, you should have seen her. I could barely get her away from you long enough for Sam and Clint to hull you out to the quinjet. She was inconsolable. She really thought you were gone. We... we all did for a minute there.”

Bucky nodded eyes flickering over to you, a semblance of a smile as he memorized the way your hair brushed over your cheek, lips twitching in your sleep. You looked so peaceful like that. He couldn’t imagine being the source of your pain.

“You should tell her how you feel.”

Bucky swallowed, not daring to look Steve in the eye, though he didn’t bother denying it.

“I’ve seen a lot in my time, Buck,” Steve continued, “but, the look on her face when Clint and Sam carried you away, the way she fought me, just trying to get back to you... it’s not something I will easily forget. It was the look of someone who lost everything.”

“What if it changes things?”

“Isn’t that the point?” Steve smiled and he nodded in your direction. Bucky followed his eyes to find you stirring in the chair, your free arm stretching high above your head as you yawned. When Bucky looked back to ask Steve what he should say, he was already gone. So, Bucky found himself waiting anxiously, heart monitor beeping a little faster, as you opened your eyes.

It took a moment before you realized he was awake. Bucky pressed his lips into a thin line, the ends curving up ever so slightly. The shades of your eyes fell upon him and your entire body froze. You sucked in a gasp, and suddenly your breaths were coming in too fast, eyes darting across his face as they blurred in glossy tears.

“I’m okay,” Bucky said carefully, wincing at how broken his voice came out. He squeezed your hand as you brushed the tears from your cheeks. “Y/n, I’m fine, doll. Please don’t cry...”

“I’m so sorry, Bucky... I’m so sorry,” you cried and Bucky felt a horrible ache in his heart. He tugged on your intertwined hand until he could pull you to the side of the bed, bringing you close enough to hold you against his side. Despite the pain in his abdomen, he adjusted himself on the bed, moving over to provide you the room to lay next to him.

“Please don’t apologize, doll, I’m doing just fine,” Bucky soothed as you curled up against him, your face buried in the crook of his neck and he could feel the wet of your tears drip onto his skin.

“He almost killed you, Buck. After- after all those horrible things I said to you,” you shook your head against him, unable to hear him. He’d been in your place too many times, been on the end of an inescapable misplaced guilt and self-loathing, and you’d always known what to say to bring him back. He hoped he could provide even an ounce of that for you.

“I know you didn’t mean ‘em, sweetheart,” Bucky said sincerely, brushing his hand over your forehead to draw the hair away from your eyes.

“But I said them, Buck. I said them and- and then you almost died! It coulda been the last things you heard me say and you didn’t- you didn’t deserve that.”

“Y/n...”

“I love you,” you confessed suddenly and Bucky swore his heart fully stopped. You pulled yourself up from his chest, just enough to meet his eye. You swallowed, your eyes capturing his and he swore he saw a flicker of a smile upon your tear stained lips.

“I am fully, and honestly, in love with you,” you continued, a brightness forming behind your eyes as you spoke that took Bucky’s breath away. “You are everything to me. You’re my best friend, Buck, and I don’t ever want to spend a day without you. I’m... I’m sorry it took until my deranged stalker nearly killed us to tell you that.”

Bucky surprised himself when a chuckle escaped past his lips, easing the tension in your face. You laughed back, the absurdity of the situation finally catching up with both of you. Bucky reached forward, his hand cupping around the side of your face, his thumb brushing along your cheekbone.

“You know I feel the same way, don’t you?” he asked nervously. “I’ve loved you as long as I’ve known you.”

“Really?” you grinned and the genuine shock upon your face only seemed to make Bucky’s stomach weaker. His cheeks started to hurt from smiling. It was a new feeling.

“Sam said I’ve been obvious about it, honestly.”

“Well what does Sam know anyway?” you teased, and even if Bucky’s heart was already filled to capacity, it managed to swell a little more.

Your laugh lingered a little longer, prolonging into the silence that followed, and Bucky’s eyes flickered down to your lips. The gentle beeping over his head pulsed quicker as you leaned in closer to him, eyes darting up to his when he felt the warmth of your breath on his cheeks. With a nod so subtle he wasn’t sure you had seen it, you closed the space between you and then your lips were on his.

Warmer, softer, than he imagined; you tasted of the mocha creamer you drowned your coffee in. Bucky’s hand snaked up into your hair, pulling flush you against him as he bit and sucked at your lips, do desperate to have you near. He grunted as your weight fell onto his wound and you yelped, laughing as you tried to pull yourself off of him, though he wouldn’t budge. It was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.

“What in the-”

You jumped off of Bucky, wiping your lips as your cheeks flushed red. Bucky chuckled, the ache lingering in his stomach as he glanced between Banner standing in the doorway and you attempting to hide red burning in your face.

“Maybe take off the heart monitor next time, kids,” Banner snickered, shaking his head with a massive grin as he disappeared down the hall again.

It only took one glance over in your direction before your lips were on his again, your body curled up against his side, careful of the wound on the left side of his torso, as he ran his hand along your back. You gripped at his right hand and pulled the heart monitor from his finger, tossing it to the floor. The beeping ceased and Bucky laughed against your lips.

“Think you can survive this, Sarge?” you panted as you peppered kisses along his jaw line.

“I’ve survived a lot in my life. I’m sure I’ll be okay,” Bucky grinned, cupping the sides of your face to bring you back to his lips. He pressed a simple, chaste kiss to your mouth before he pulled back, just enough to memorize the swollen look of your lips and the loving daze in your eye. “But, if this takes me out, I think I’m okay with that.”

“Shut up,” you giggled pushing forward to kiss him again and he didn’t mind one bit.

“You and me, doll. We’re going to be okay,” Bucky mumbled against your lips, drinking you in and reveling in the feel of you. It was heaven. It was home.

You pulled back for only a second, lips red and flushed, and hands grazing over the sides of his face. He’d never seen eyes as warm and loving as yours. You nodded with a smile beaming on your face.

“We’re going to be okay.”

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

[summonerscenarios]

The Oni characters reacting to MC putting the moves on them and telling them "Yunno you're the ONI one for me baby!" Keep being awesome Juno!

AASDFGHJKKJH Anon this is singlehandedly the best pickup line I have ever heard and this was just too good to pass up. Tho i did struggle actually finding out which characters were oni and which ones weren’t lmao

----

Takemaru

When you try to flirt with Takemaru he often thinks that you’re just trying to tease him - more than once you’ve slid in a flirtatious comment into the conversation just to watch him get flustered and warn you to not be so brazen teasing your elders like that. That does little to stop you, however, so once you thought up this absolutely perfect line you knew just who you were going to use it on. Takemaru has no clue what you’ve got planned when you sidle up beside him, conversing like nothing’s wrong until you find a moment in the conversation that’s just right to slip in your flirty comment.

Takemaru turns his head to stare at you as soon as the words leave your mouth. He’s so floored by your words that he reacts without thinking. He bursts into laughter, bringing a hand up to his face and shaking his head; he’s laughing so hard that he’s leaning over the table he was working at, gripping the edge with his free hand to keep himself upright. His laughter is contagious, and you’re giggling too, playfully whining that ‘come on, it wasn’t that bad!’. When he’s calmed down enough to get a word in he waves a hand in your direction, commenting that he just can’t take you seriously after you just said that, and you’re so amused by the situation that you can’t even be mad that the flirty comment fell flat on its face. Or so you assume, as once he’s fully recovered, Tak brings a hand to ruffle your hair, saying that even if it was cheesy it definitely hit it’s mark - just next time maybe go with something a bit more serious.

Oniwaka

Honestly, using this line on Oniwaka is a double whammy - not only is it a prime flirty remark, but it’s also a cute play on his name. So when you first come up with it, it’s too good of an opportunity to pass up on and not use it on him; the only questions were when, and where you were gonna try it out. It doesn’t take much to find him, especially because you see him so often, and you spot him with his back turned to you, focusing on something else. Seeing this as a prime opportunity you run up to him, using the momentum to slide across the floor the rest of the way and slam into the wall right next to him (granted your hands hurt like hell afterwards but it was worth it). Oniwaka jolts, snapping his head to face you and seems to relax once he realizes that it’s you; seeing him relax you decide now’s a good of a time as any to try out your newest flirting tactic. 

Oniwaka blanks once the words leave your mouth, once it clicks that you’ve just flirted with him you finally get a proper answer. He groans making a halfhearted comment about that line being such a cliche, but even you can see that his cheeks are turning a dusty pink color the longer that you grin at him, shuffling closer as you attempt to get him to admit that it was a good one. 

Suzuka

Flirting with Suzuka and not being threatened or scared off immediately in some way is a small miracle in itself. Unless you mean it you better not try and play any flirting games with her because she will shut that shit down fast; with that being said, however, you’re a notable exception, as most of your flirtatious encounters end in either a deep sigh or her snapping some kind of retort back at you. You don’t push your luck though, and save it for when you’re seriously putting on the moves on her. When you suddenly slide into the guild one day, yelling her name loud enough to turn a couple of heads she whips around to face you, watching in confusion as you steady yourself, take a deep breath and declare "Yunno you're the ONI one for me, baby!", in front of the entire room. The expression on her face is priceless - dumbfounded, then realization as her face blossoms a deep shade of red all the way down to her neck - but then she looks furious, and you’re suddenly realizing that maybe you should have done this in private.

What breaks the standstill is when you wink at her for good measure, then proceed to book it for your life right back out of the room, and all hell breaks loose. The next second she’s taking off after you, more embarrassed about you yelling your declaration out in public than she is about the corny line, and you can hear her shouting for you to stop running. She just wants to talk. If you’d stopped, you’d find that she wasn’t actually gonna kill you - granted you’d get lectured within an inch of your life - but for a girl known for her temper and fiery spirit, in that moment you’re 100% convinced that she’s going to give your torso some new holes if she catches you.

Toji

Toji attempts to remain stone faced when presented with your flirting. He can feel something’s up when, while spending time with you in your dorm room, you shuffle across the bed towards him, only pausing once you’re right at his side, laying stomach down on your bed with your chin propped up by your fists as you grin up at him. He stares at you from the corner of his eye for a moment, but he knows that you’re waiting for him to cave and speak first. Toji eventually looks away from his textbook and down at you, one eyebrow raised as he asks you what’s got you looking so smug now. With that as your cue you wave nonchalantly and tell him that you were just thinking, not going any further until he plays along and asks what you’re thinking about. It takes little more than that for you to tell him. “Oh, it’s just, y’know you're the oni one for me baby~!”

What follows next is Toji making a choked sound in response, then suddenly there’s a pillow sailing in your direction which has you dropping face down on the bed to narrowly avoid. You jolt back up with a ‘Hey! I thought that was a good one!’ He shoots back asking if you’re serious - did you really just say that?! With no hesitation whatsoever?! His reactions never fail to get a laugh out of you, and you’re biting back a smile as you try to coax him to admit that c’mon, it was pretty good - he closes his eyes, brows furrowed, before he releases a deep breath and, somewhat reluctantly, admits that it was certainly one of your more creative comments. He regrets it almost immediately when you shuffle right back over to his side, telling him that if he thought that was good, just wait till he hears the others you’ve thought up! You’ve got a whole bunch you’ve been just dying to tell him. Needless to say that textbook he’s reading is put on the backburner after that point.

Shuten

Getting a moment alone with Shuten is an occurrence that’s few and far between - a lot of his time is spent with his club members (namely Ibaraki) . Unless you ask him outright to have a moment alone. So it’s by a stroke of chance that right after club activities the two of you are the only ones in the changing rooms, already finished getting changed back into your uniforms and taking a moment to idle in the room before heading out and going your separate ways. You’d been mulling the line over in your head for a while, looking between your hands and Shuten and rolling the idea of saying it out loud in your head. There’s a pause for a second, then two, the three - then you just let it slip out, riding the rush of outwardly flirting with the baseball captain to get the words out there. It doesn’t get the reaction that you expect.

Shuten gives you a surprised look, head tilting slightly to the side and asking you to repeat what you just said. It’s a little bit embarrassing saying it the second time, the rush from blurting it out the first time wearing off a little now that you’re consciously aware that he’s paying attention to what you’re saying. When you say it this time he actually chuckles, saying “you know, that was pretty good” and immediately washing any nervousness you have right off of your shoulders. Emboldened, you shuffle across the bench to get closer, joking about how you’ve got a couple more up your sleeves that you’re sure he’s gonna like. In response, Shuten turns his attention to you fully and gives you an indication that he’ll listen to you - you’re pretty sure that he hasn’t clocked on to the fact that those flirting attempts are aimed directly at him, but it’s honestly a better reaction than what you’d initially expected.

Ibaraki

You often go to visit Ibaraki once the after school events have finished, since it’s the best chance of running into him if you’re not willing to go barreling into Kabukicho all the time just to see him. Since the game’s only just started wrapping up when you arrive, you spend a little while watching the team as they practice and go through some basic sports exercises before finally calling it a day. You catch Ibaraki as he jogs over to his gear, fishing around for something before pulling out something to drink to wash off the after training fatigue. He notices you and offers you a chill greeting, shrugging off his jacket and bringing his drink up to his lips to chug down at least half of the bottle - there’s a few seconds where you pause, but you’ve been thinking about this line all day that waiting is nearly impossible. So you blurt it out right away.

Waiting for him to finish his drink probably would have been a smarter idea, because as soon as Ibaraki hears what you just said to him he does a spit take and proceeds to choke on his drink so badly that you end up spending the next few minutes awkwardly patting his back while he coughs and sputters. By the time that he’s able to breathe normally again he looks up at you and rasps out a ‘What?! Did’ja not wanna wait till I was finished to spring that one me?!’ while wiping away the leftover drops of drink from his chin with the back of his hand. You feel kind of bad for making him choke, but the reaction was oh so worth it - you didn’t actually expect that kind of response out of him, and apparently neither did he as he tries to play it off, asking you how long it took you to think that one up this time while trying insistently to change the subject away from his reaction. Whether you actually let it slide or not is up to how hotheaded you want him to get.

[skinsharpenedteeth]

No clue what to call this one...

It’s PunkRock!Michael and Emo!Alex AU that pretty much no one asked for. That being said, it’s for @litwitlady per our previous conversation about the subtle difference with punk and emo kids.  As a warning, it fluff n smut.

              The ground vibrated under Alex Manes bright red converse and he wondered if he’d be able to hear anything once this night was over. He’d found the furthest wall and decided to hold it up for the evening as he waited for Maria to get done with her one-woman-mission to fuck SOMEONE in this derelict house that operated as a “music venue”. All the rooms were lit with harsh yellow lighting, bereft of all but the most untrustworthy looking furniture, and there were dents and holes in walls all over the place. Alex was a little afraid the second floor would cave in at some point and he’d have to find out that people actually lived here.

Looking back up towards the corner of what was once considered the dining room of the house, he was happy to see that he couldn’t see Maria anymore. Maybe she’d gotten lucky faster than he’d figured she would and soon they’d be able to get out of here. But that might still take a while, so Alex slid down the wall and took out the book he’d been reading about the perks of being a wallflower. He noted someone coming to stand next to him in this periphery but didn’t look up. He didn’t want to engage anyone here and the bouncing of their leg by his shoulder made him sure they weren’t looking to engage him either since they seemed to be enjoying the band.

               When the band finally wound down, the figure that had been standing next to him practically fell onto the floor in a heap of legs and elbows. He turned to look and saw it was Michael Guerin, probably the most serious, mysterious, hard core punk kid at his school. His blonde curly hair had been streaked with green and slicked back from his face. He didn’t wear any make-up like some of the punk kids did or Alex himself for that matter. He had on a D.A.R.E. shirt with the sides and sleeves ripped off which showed off his lithe, strong body when he slumped forward. The shirt was tucked into tight black jeans with safety pinned holes up and down the legs. He wore the rattiest shit-kicker boots Alex had ever seen which were covered with patches, pins, and spikes. He’d left his spiked bracelets and collar that he’d worn at school at home for the evening and Alex felt like he was almost seeing him naked. Which wasn’t unwelcome because for all Michael Guerin’s faults, being unattractive was not among them.

              “Having fun?” Michael asked, looking over at him in between nodding and slapping hands with various people milling around in the crowd. The band was breaking down their gear and everyone was moving to other parts of the house or out into the yard between acts. Alex pursed his lips at him and went back to his book. He was sure he was just fucking with him. Michael Guerin didn’t make small talk. He mostly just stalked the halls and kept his head down in classes. Alex couldn’t look at him without rolling his eyes sometimes, he was such a cliché.

              “I, uh, don’t think I’ve seen you at many of these. Thought you liked fuckin’ Panic! At the Disco and shit…” he continued, sneaking looks over at Alex. Alex sighed through his nose loudly. Apparently, they were going to do this tonight.

              “I’m here with Maria,” Alex finally responded, still not looking up from the book he was frankly only pretending to read at this point.

              “Oh? I saw her leave with one of the guitarists from the first band. Was she your ride?” Michael asked, sounding nervous. Alex did look at him then, trying to see if he was just fucking with him or if he was being sincere. When he decided he couldn’t tell, he dug his phone out of his back pocket and saw a missed call and a text from Maria.

>Found something strange and hopefully wonderful. Won’t be back tonight.

              “God fucking damnit, Maria,” Alex exclaimed, almost throwing his phone in frustration.

              “So I guess that’s a yes?” Michael asked a little sheepishly.

              “This is why you never see me at these things. I don’t have a fucking car and my ride likes to fuck strangers and ends up deserting me. I fucking know better. Ugh, fucking Maria,” he raged. Michael watched him at it for a while. Meanwhile the other band had finished setting up and people were starting to filter back into the room. Alex looked around at the people and groaned, just wanting to leave and get out of here.

              “Hey, come on. Let’s go outside. It’s about to get loud,” Michael suggested, standing up and offering Alex his hand. Alex absently noted that his fingernails were painted, though the polish was cheap and had already chipped off in several places. At the first screech of feedback from the amps, Alex grabbed his hand and let Michael pull him up. He shoved the paperback into his back pocket and looked Guerin in the eyes, feeling a fluttery feeling in his chest when their eyes met. He was a bit surprised when Michael didn’t immediately drop his hand, but instead held it while leading him through the dingy kitchen and out to the backyard area. A group of smokers hung around the door chatting and they called ‘Hey-o!’ in excitement when they saw Michael. He waved and grinned at them but kept tugging Alex with him until they were past the property line. Apparently, someone had found a couch on the side of the road and had moved it out into the undeveloped desert behind the house to stare out at the dark nothing beyond. When they reached the front of the couch Michael finally let go of his hand and flopped down on the cushions at one end with a sigh.

              “Uh, what are we doing?” Alex asked, looking over his shoulder to see if anyone had followed them. He shuffled a little and stared down at the orange and white plaid couch dubiously.

              “We’re hanging out. Chill, sit down, enjoy the night with me. We’ll still be able to hear the band from here,” he added, patting the spot next to him.

              “Oh, goody,” Alex remarked sarcastically before sitting himself down on the cushion farthest from Michael’s. He still didn’t quite trust his intentions, but he was glad to be out of the house. They could, in fact, here the band still, but the lyrics were muffled and it almost sounded like the songs had a melody this far out.

              “So, what’s up with the finger bruises on your arm?” Michael asked, pointing towards where Alex’s shirt sleeves had ridden up when he’d finally sat down. “Girlfriend like to get a little rough?”

              “Uhh…. That would be pretty remarkable since I’m totally gay and you know it. Like, everyone knows it,” Alex accused, deflecting his question about the bruises. He didn’t want to talk about his problems with strangers. As hot as this guy was, he was still a stranger. Michael smiled widely at him.

              “I didn’t know if that was a rumor or what, man,” he replied easily, seeming to take Alex’s correction in stride. For some reason that threw Alex off. He’d been waiting for an attack.

              “Oh,” Alex said, feeling a little deflated, “Well, it’s not. I’m gay. Does that make you want to run back to the party? Afraid someone will see you out here with the emo faggot?”

              Michael’s smile fell and he looked a little insulted. Alex almost apologized, but he didn’t owe this punk anything and he kind of wanted to see how he reacted to some pushing. His tone was less congenial when he finally answered.

              “I don’t give a fuck who you’re into. Love is love. What I do want to know is who the fuck keeps bruising you up all the time? Those aren’t love taps I saw on your ribs the other day in the locker room and you don’t skate or play sports. Who’s fucking you up?”

              He sounded mad, indignant on behalf of a stranger. On behalf of Alex, who was not used anyone giving a shit about him. It was a new feeling for Alex to have someone pay that much attention to him and care that he was being hurt. But he couldn’t just say ‘My dad knocks me around because I crave cock and hate the military’ so he kept his mouth shut and Michael watched him stay silent, watched him tense up with his shoulders closer to his ears and wrap his arms around his body. He obviously wasn’t going to say anything so Michael tried a different tactic.

              “The foster family I’m with right now… they’re alright. But the family I was with before them? Fucking meth heads. And meth heads get mean when they’re coming down,” Michael said, turning and pulling his shirt over his head to show Alex his back. There were long thin grooves over the middle of his back and little round scars like burns. “Not all that is the meth heads. The long scars were from the religious zealots I got put with a couple years ago. Being exorcised isn’t fun, but the lead up was worse.”

              Alex stared at the skin in horrified fascination, moving closer to see them better in the faint light of the moon. Before he knew what he was doing, he was reaching out to trace along one of the scars with his fingers, but at the last minute came to his senses and brought his hand back.

              “That’s awful, Michael,” Alex whispered. Michael pulled his shirt back down and turned to him, a bittersweet smile on his face.

              “Well, it’s all healed over now. Right now, no ones hurting me. So, who’s hurting you? Are you getting bullied? I know that Valenti kid is a fucking homophobic piece of shit jock bully, but if he’s literally beating you up I will get my boys and we’ll tear his ass in two,” Michael threatened with passion. Alex looked at him, feeling his face soften at how serious Michael was.

              “You can’t defend me like that. Kyle’s a fucking jerk, but he’s not doing this. It’s..uh… It’s my dad. He’s the one hitting me,” Alex admitted quietly. Somewhere in the middle of his confession, he had started to find his own hands fascinating. So fascinating he couldn’t look up to see Michael’s expression over his confession, but instead just kept watching the way his skin pulled taut when he interlaced them and twisted one way or the other. One of Michael’s hands came into his view then and covered his own, stopping their anxious twisting. Alex froze and waited.  He didn’t know what reaction he was hoping for but he felt himself bracing for it.

              “Do you have somewhere to go to get away from him?” Michael asked, his voice now quiet next to Alex’s ear. The hand not on Alex’s came to rest between his shoulder blades, thumb rubbing soothing circles through the cotton of his shirt. Alex felt his body relax a fraction, slumping a little as he realized he wasn’t about to be attacked.

              “Yeah, yeah. I have friends who will let me stay with them,” Alex managed to get out through the thickness in his throat.

              “Add me to that list,” Michael said. Alex’s head jerked up to look at him and he realized he was only a couple breaths away from him. “I’m serious. Add me to the list of people you can call if you need an out. I’ve got a truck, I’ll come get you. No questions asked, nothing owed.”

              “You don’t know me, Guerin,” Alex said in the stillness between them. He couldn’t stop his gaze from moving from his perfect hazel eyes down to his lips. He suddenly knew he wanted to kiss this guy. Whatever happened after was fine, but he wanted to do something reckless. Michael was pushing a long piece of hair back behind Alex’s ear and looking at him fondly and it made Alex’s gut clench with want.

              “Sometimes people do nice things without an expectations. It’s been known to happen,” he replied. Alex nodded and swallowed, suddenly filled with nerves again, though for a very different reason than before.

He saw Michael watching him, watching the way his eyes kept darting down to look at his lips, watching the way he mirrored licking them with his own. Slowly Michael leaned forward, closing the distance between them and pressed his lips against Alex’s. Alex was cupping his jaw and keeping him close before Michael could back away and end the kiss. Alex opened his lips, his tongue lickeding over Michael’s in a request and a question. This wasn’t Alex’s first kiss, but it was the first one he was adamant about pursuing further. Michael hummed deep in his throat and opened to Alex’s advances, letting him explore his mouth with his tongue before doing the same with his own. Alex felt breathless and elated. He didn’t care that the music in the background was hardcore punk being played so badly Syd Vicious would be rolling over in his grave. He didn’t care that he was kissing Michael on a dirty, half rotten couch out in the desert where anyone could see them and tell his father what he’d been doing with another boy. He didn’t care that Maria had left him to fend for himself so she could chase boys. This half-crazed make out session with Michael Guerin was making it the best night of his life so far.

              Maybe it was the lack of oxygen or the adrenaline of being seen by someone he’d never admitted to himself that he’d always been hyperaware of, but Alex couldn’t stop his hands from falling from Michael’s jaw and starting to grope at the skin exposed by the open sides of Michael’s shirt. In response, Michael turned his body and started to pull Alex until he was sitting straddled across his lap. Then it was Michael’s turn to slip his hands under the hem of Alex’s shirt and let his hands slide over the muscles of his back and waist. When it became too much, Alex finally broke their never-ending kiss to gasp air into his lungs. Michael didn’t miss a beat, his mouth attaching itself to Alex’s neck with sucking, stinging kisses that made Alex want to go crazy.

              “Fuck,” Alex groaned when he felt Michael’s fingers start to slip past the waist band of his jeans. It was so hot to feel him against his skin. It was too much, though, just too much with someone he’d really just been introduced to. “Wait, wait, wait! We gotta slow down…”

              Michael groaned and buried his head against Alex’s shoulder, hands immediately coming out from under his shirt and wrapping him up in a hug. Alex slowly withdrew his own hands, resting them on Michael’s shoulders while they both calmed down and regained their breath.

              “Sorry,” Michael murmured against his shirt before lifting his head and giving him a quick, close-mouthed kiss. “Sorry.”

              Alex smiled and laughed a little, rubbing his hands up and down Michael’s upper arms while he gathered himself. He was nervous about having stopped them, but he was still so fucking happy about what had happened.

              “It’s okay. All of that was okay, I just… Where did this come from? You don’t even know me, you’ve never talked to me at school or even, like, acknowledged my presence…” Alex said, eyes flickering over Michael’s face. He saw the way his expression went soft and slightly incredulous.

              “I may not know your favorite color, but I’ve wanted to kiss your emo eyeliner wearing ass since my first day at Roswell High. You’re always being so snarky and bratty to everyone and then when you’re with your friends? Your smile lights up the place and it’s so rare to see, but so fucking beautiful. It’s just… man, fuck school. Fuck those people. Fuck the kids, fuck the adults, fuck the institution. They’re answering just enough of the questions to keep us from asking more. It’s a fucking joke. I’m not in the right headspace at school. You’re about the only good thing about showing up every day. Just seeing you makes me hate humanity a little less.”

              Alex felt the heat of a blush infusing his face, but he also couldn’t stop smiling. This guy. This fucking guy.

              “Your,uh… your smile is pretty great too. I think tonight’s the first time I’ve even ever seen you smile,” Alex commented, his arms wrapping comfortably around Michael’s neck. Michael’s lips widened into a cheesy approximation of a smile that really just showed all his teeth with his lips pulled back while he crossed his eyes.

              “Oh my God, staaahhhp,” Alex said laughing at the stupid face. When Michael let his features relax back to normal, Alex darted in and kissed him. He meant for it to be one kiss, but it quickly turned into more as the heat which had been banked earlier, now came back to life with more energy.

              “Can we lay down? My legs are going to sleep,” Michael mumbled between kisses against Alex’s lips. Alex jumped and was about to scramble back and off his legs when he felt Michael’s hands under his butt and then he was being tilted backwards until his back rested against the cushions.

              “I shudder to think what’s on these pillows,” Alex grumbled even as he widened his legs and let Michael sink between them to rest his body against Alex’s. The weight and friction felt amazing. He suddenly didn’t care about the scratchy upholstery where his shirt at ridden up his back. He just wanted Michael’s mouth back on his and to keep feeling his body writhing on top of him.

              “You want to add to the mess?” Michael asked after breaking their kiss, raising an eyebrow and smiling mischievously. Alex looked at him confused for a moment and then his eyes followed Michael’s hand as it slid down to his own jeans, flicking the button open and leaving his hand on the zipper tongue. Alex’s eyes widened and he shot up to meet Michael in a kiss before glancing back down between them. It was so hot. He could tell Michael wasn’t wearing any underwear and his pants were almost painfully tight against his own body. “Alex?”

              “Fuck, yes. So much yes. All the yes. Enthusiastic conset given,” Alex babbled between kisses, his hands sliding down to start undoing his own jeans. Michael’s hand followed his, pushing his away so he could cup Alex through the black cotton of his boxer briefs. Alex felt like he could come just from that. His body was vibrating, breath caught in his throat as he gasped at the feeling of someone else’s hand so close to his own dick. He wanted to reciprocate. He wanted to touch Michael back so with shaky hands, he slowly pulled down Michael’s zipper and pushed aside the fabric of his pants. He felt the velvety skin against the back of his hand and then he pulled it out. Michael was uncircumcised. Alex felt like he knew this somewhere in his hind brain from talk or the locker room showers or something, but it was different when it was something you glanced while trying to hide as much of your own body as possible. Now it was thick and heavy in his hand. The foreskin moved in such a hypnotic way as Alex pulled and then pushed gently until he could see the wet, spongey head of Michael’s cock. It was giving him all sorts of scary, wonderful ideas of things he wanted to do and try that was definitely way too fast for a random hook up on a murder couch.

              “Does it freak you out?” Michael asked, voice a little breathy as he held still and let Alex play with him. Alex shook his head slowly, still watching his own hand as he jacked Michael’s cock, thumb swiping and spreading the precome over the head. Finally, Alex’s brain came back online and he looked up into Michael face. His eyes had closed and his mouth hung slightly slack. He looked like he was in pain, but he was enjoying every second of it. Alex didn’t stop his hand movements as he raised himself up enough to capture Michael’s bottom lip between his own. Immediately Michael responded, returning the kiss hungrily. His hand had stayed over Alex’s underwear, but now he pulled and tugged at the offending garment until he could get it far enough down to sit under Alex’s balls.

              “OOhhhhh my God,” Alex cried out as Michael’s hand finally grasped flesh and he was overwhelmed by the heat of his hand and the roughness of his skin.

              “You alright?” Michael asked, keeping his hand still to make sure Alex was still game. Alex nodded and sank back down against the sofa cushions. Michael was giving him a curious look from where he was holding himself up on one arm. Alex laughed a little and moved his hand to grip the back of Michael’s neck fondly.

              “That feels so much better when someone else is doing it,” Alex admitted a little shyly. Alex was afraid this was going to become a Conversation, but thankfully Michael just smiled softly at him and moved back down onto his forearm so he could kiss Alex while still having enough room between their bodies for their hands. Michael’s hand was a little dry on him, but he didn’t care. It still felt amazing and everytime their knuckles bumped against each other a zing of pleasure rocketed up his spine. He was doing this to someone else. Someone else was touching him. It was a-fucking-mazing. He started to feel a familiar tightness beginning in his core, his body winding itself tighter before it let go. He broke away from Michael’s mouth, panting and making pained little “Ah” sounds against his cheek.

              “Fuck, Michael, I’m about to—I’m going to—” he was trying to get out, even as his vision narrowed and his body became a singular being of exquisite pleasure. He felt Michael’s mouth cover his and then his own hand was wet as well. When it was over they laid there, panting against each other and then Michael tipped sideways to wall onto his side between Alex and the back of the couch.

              “Shit,” Michael said succinctly, cheek against Alex’s shoulder and breath still short. Alex just nodded and looked down at himself. There was come all over his shirt. His come, Michael’s come, marring the black in white, viscous stripes.

              “Shit,” he repeated after Michael, his voice less in awe now that it was time for clean up. Michael looked down at his shirt and honest to god giggled a little. He brought his come covered hand up and wiped it over a clean expanse of Alex’s tee.

              “Hey! I gotta wear this home!” Alex exclaimed, battling Michael’s hand away.

              “No you don’t. Follow me to my truck, I’ll let you borrow a shirt. This one is fucking toast,” Michael snickered. Alex looked down again and had to agree. Soon after, they tucked themselves back up into their jeans and got off the couch. Alex found himself a little wobbly after the high of an orgasm. Michael caught him with a hand on waist and kissed his cheek.

              “You get a little come drunk. Noted for next time.”

              “So there will be a next time?” Alex asked, suddenly finding he was nervous to hear the answer.

              “If you want there to be a next time, then yeah,” Michael said, holding out his hand to take Alex’s. Alex looked at it for a second and then up at Michael’s guileless face. He smiled then and reached his hand out to hold onto Michael’s. They slowly made their way around the outside of the house where the music was still rattling the glass panes left in the windows and out to the street where Michael had parked his truck. Alex stripped off his shirt and handed it off to Michael as Michael pawed through a backpack of clothes he kept under the passenger’s seat. Finally, he passed over a black Misfits shirt. When Alex put it on he noticed it smelled like rain, dust, and sage brush. It wasn’t a bad smell and in fact made him want to bury his nose in the collar to train it to memory. It was how Michael smelled and that wasn’t a bad thing.

              “Want a ride home?” Michael asked a little shyly as he tugged the bottom of his shirt on Alex’s body in some attempt to ‘straighten it’.

              “Sure,” Alex agreed, climbing in the passenger’s seat and buckling in. Michael closed his door for him and ran over to the driver’s side, climbing in and starting up the car. As soon as they were on the road, Alex slid his hand over the seat between them in a silent request for Michael to hold his hand. With a quick smile, Michael did.

[pocketmouse18]

For @agentsofchallenges​ : A Study in Socks and Subterfuge

(warning, this was hastily written and even more hastily edited... also TW for swearing, mention of death/‘crossing off,’ Hydra)

***

If it hadn’t been for a particularly muddy patch of Malta beach, Skye probably would have never known. She didn’t make a habit of looking at people’s feet, for one. Sure, you could tell a few things about a person from their shoes. She’d picked that trick up ages ago while living on her own – undercover cops all wore the same boots, people with money gravitated towards certain brands while people with less money than they were pretending to have gravitated towards other, that one brand of sneaker that ended up in donation bins more than the others – but she had thought she wouldn’t need it much now that she had gone legit at SHIELD. All the field agents they’d met so far had worn standard-issue SHIELD gear, and she didn’t need to check Coulson or Fitzsimmons’ shoes to learn what she needed to know about them. So she never expected to learn something about her SO from his feet.

They were back on the Bus after the Malta mission. She had flubbed in a few places (chickening out straight into a pool wasn’t her proudest moment), but overall she was pleased with what they had accomplished, and she was celebrating at the bar. Everyone else had retreated to their pods, or the cockpit, in May’s case, so it surprised her when Ward stomped into the room, scowling at a boot in his hand. He didn’t even realize she was there until he had nearly bumped into her.

“Do you usually take your boot for a drink after missions?”

Ward looked up, blinked, registered she was sitting just a few feet from where he had been rummaging around behind the bar.

“That’s classified information, Agent Skye.”

“You seriously can’t be telling me that your boot – your dirty, more than a little smelly, combat boot – has a higher clearance than me.”

Something softened slightly in his face. That had been happening more and more, now that they were spending so much time together, training. Skye had to admit it certainly was an ego boost to know that her wisecracking was starting to wear her SO down, bit by bit.

“I can’t get the damn beach mud off the toe,” he admitted, holding it out for her to see. There was a miniscule patch of greying mud near the toe that she probably would never have noticed. “I was looking for some distilled water to help. I think the minerals in the stuff we keep in the tanks is strengthening the dirt molecules or something.”

“I’m gonna check with Fitzsimmons, but I’m pretty sure that’s not how water – or mud – works,” Skye smirked. “It’s just a little bit of dirt. It’ll flake off in a day or two.”

“It’s critical that a SHIELD agent’s gear is in top condition at all times,” he said sharply, snapping back into SO mode. “Consider that a bonus lesson for today.”

“I don’t even have gear,” Skye shot back playfully, undaunted by his cold shift in demeanor. She was getting used to his moods. She sighed, got up from her seat and came around to help him look.

Oddly, Ward backed away as she rounded the bar, and tried to hide his leg from view. He wasn’t quite fast enough.

“What’s—Are you hurt?” Skye jumped forward, ready to inspect for damages and delighted at the opportunity to get on his case a little. Upon closer inspection, it wasn’t a wound she found. It was—

“I swear to god, if you laugh,” Ward warned, “I’ll throw you out of this plane and call it parachute practice.”

“Where did you get those socks?” Skye asked, biting down hard on her lip to keep from cracking up. The foot that wasn’t encased in a boot was clad instead, unmistakably, in a thick, woolen sock adorned with brightly-colored polka dots.

“I’m serious, Skye, jump school is about to be in session.”

“They’re just so… not you,” she grinned. “All fun and colorful and warm. Oh my god, they’re like anti-Grant Ward socks.”

“They’re not anti-Grant Ward socks,” he protested. “They’re socks. My socks. My Gramzy made them for me, if you must know.”

“Your Gramzy?” Skye had managed to reign in the urge to laugh, but the smile was still there. “That’s really sweet, actually.”

“I know you think I’m a cold, boring guy,” Ward sighed, “but it’s my job as an agent, as your SO, to be like that. I’m not always on the clock, though. Sometimes…” he hesitated. “Sometimes I’m a guy who wants to wear something cozy that his Gramzy made for him. Sometimes I’m a guy who likes spotted socks.”

“That is… definitely good to know,” nodded Skye, still smiling in disbelief. “You’ve got layers. I see you, Grant Ward.”

“Don’t read too much into it,” he warned. Skye could see him fighting a smile of his own, though, and she knew she had cracked him, just a little bit. Her SO was a warm and fuzzy spotted sock kind of guy. Well, a secret one at least.

 ***

Grant Ward was having a good day. Hydra had successfully taken down SHIELD in dramatic fashion, he had reunited with Garrett for real, crossed off Victoria Hand, and managed to maintain his cover with Coulson’s team. A great day, really, when you thought about it. Until, that is, he went to pack his bag for the trip to whatever secret base Coulson’s team had managed to stumble into.

“Damn it,” he hissed, yanking the zipper of his duffle shut.

“What?” called Garret from the shadowy side of the room. “You’re not blown are you? Because I trained you better than to blow your cover from a distance.”

“No, I forgot the spotted socks.”

“The what?” Garrett wore an expression of amused incredulity.

“The spotted socks. It was a tactic to soften Skye to me. She was a loose canon, and an unpredicted factor on the team. I had to come up with some creative ways of getting her to trust me.”

“You won the heart of the doe-eyed hacker with a pair of socks?”

“I pretended like she accidentally caught me wearing this god-awful pair of socks. Horrible, spotted things. Acted all embarrassed, told her they were from my grandmother.”

“And she bought that?” Garrett asked.

“Hook, line, and sinker,” Ward smirked. “I think it played into the idea she wanted to have of me. Tough guy with a secret heart of gold inside.”

“Well, that’s disgusting,” scoffed Garrett. Both men shared a laugh at that. At the naïveté and stupidity of the sheep Ward had so successfully shepherded straight into Garrett’s hands over these last few months.

“Do you need the socks to get back in?”

“No,” Ward decided. “I can play the loss for leverage. She likes it when I’m vulnerable about my family.”

“Good,” Garrett said. “Go. Use it. Report back when you have the drive.”

“Yessir.”

 ***

Skye wasn’t too proud to admit she was relieved to see him limp through the door of Providence. He looked terrible, bloodied and bruised and beyond exhausted, but at least he was alive. His news wasn’t great, either. Garrett, gone. Victoria Hand, dead. Hydra, heads still growing back at an alarming rate. But at least he was safe, at least he was here. She knew it was a bad idea, but Skye had grown… fond of Ward the last few weeks. Not that she was ready to marry the guy or anything ridiculous like that, but still, the kiss in the supply closet had been… nice. Nicer than she was expecting. She had no idea what it meant, or where it might lead, but at least Ward was still here, living and breathing, and they could figure it all out once things calmed down.

They finally got a minute alone hours later, once Ward had gone through the trippy lie-detector and gotten his official lanyard from Koenig. Skye was giving him the tour of the base, ending with the corridor where the bunks were waiting.

“We didn’t have time to bring much along,” she explained, showing him the empty room. “And we were traveling on foot through the snow, so we had to pack light.”

“It’s fine,” he said flatly. “I wasn’t expecting cushy accommodations. We have bigger things to worry about. Hydra’s out there. We should be spending our time working to stop them, opening up that hard drive. The hominess of my bunk is pretty much the lowest thing on my priority list.”

“You didn’t let me finish,” Skye told him, teasing. She tugged open the drawer from the wall and proudly brought forth her prize.

“You brought my socks.” Ward looked shocked. Totally caught off-guard. Skye didn’t know what to make of it.

“Well, yeah,” she said, offering him a half-smile. “You barely have any personal items in your bunk on the Bus to begin with, but I knew… I knew these were important to you. Plus, I wanted to give you something to help you remember the other side of you. The fluffy one. The world’s falling apart, everything sucks, Hydra’s back, but… you can still be a polka-dot sock guy, if you want to.”

“Spotted,” Ward breathed, taking the socks lovingly. “They’re spotted socks.”

“Okay,” Skye conceded. “Spotted. Whatever. I just don’t want you to cut yourself off from the guy who wears his grandma’s socks. There’s a lot to process right now, and we’re all feeling like we failed—”

“Because we did, Skye.”

“But that doesn’t mean we have to lose the parts of ourselves that still make us human,” Skye insisted, cutting him off. She reached out and took his hand. “SHIELD is down, but it’s not out. And SHIELD needs real, human people, people who have families and feelings and wear goofy socks, to keep fighting. Not cold, slithering squid Nazis.”

 ***

Sometimes in life, people surprise you. Sometimes a person who seemed cold and prickly has something warm and nurturing hiding underneath. Sometimes that person turns out to be a mentor, a friend. Agent May had surprised her in that way. Other times people surprise you by turning out to be disgusting, murderous traitors, and the guy you thought might be your first real shot at a boyfriend since you dumped stupid Miles turned out to be one of those slithering squid Nazis you had recently dedicated your life to fighting.

Honestly, Skye wasn’t too upset about losing her opportunity with Ward. He would have been a pain in the ass to date, way too controlling and buttoned up. Plus the combined murderer-Hydra thing was a big draw back. Mostly she was upset with herself for falling for him. For falling for his absurd tricks. She was usually so good at reading people, at trusting her instincts about people. She had been duped by him so easily, and frankly, it was embarrassing.

That was why, after Centipede had been squished, Garrett evaporated, the Petersons reunited, she had found herself outside Providence, building up a roaring bonfire in the Canadian wilderness. It was why, once the flames had gotten hot enough, she and Simmons had set to work systematically erasing all traces of Grant Ward from their history and their base. It was why the first thing to go up in smoke was an ugly, garish pair of spotted woolen socks.