#i’m honestly more and more for this to apply to written language as well

[touchlikethesun]

like just to be clear, everyone has linguistic pet peeves, little language tics and particularities on other people that get to them, but as long as you understand the meaning of the utterance, no speaker has the right to assert how another person ought to speak.

“but what about—” no. whatever it is, it’s your problem, not theirs.

[agendabymooner]

it’s time to go ! max v. x ofc (hearth sister!ofc)

“sometimes giving up is the strong thing.”

summary: sylvie edson ford hearth swore not to think about what had happened back in 2012, but max verstappen has a different plan with his absent childhood friend. OR lando norris has a bad habit of sharing things that he isn’t permitted to share— like her phone number.

content warning: written and text messages applied, frenemies to lovers (ish), hurt/comfort? or angst, use of explicit language, model!student!ofc (sylvie), mentions of anxiety, consciousness, childhood friendships

note: i had to listen to a lot of ts songs. thank you all for the 82 followers!!! i’m so glad you guys are enjoying the content i make. i honestly had been making them because i keep them in my notes but never wrote full narratives of them. if they are written down, they’re normally not published— aka they’re in my wattpad draft. so… i hope you guys enjoy this xx

masterlist

Everybody swore that the two would get together eventually. Too bad it didn’t work like that.

Christmas was what Sylvie considered the best time of the year. She loved the way Christmas lifted the spirits of everyone, no matter how difficult the year had been for them. She loved being one of the children who would chase each other down the halls while parents gathered around and talked about the last season. She loved being around people that knew her well.

The thing was, however, no one knew her anymore. Not as well as they used to.

For a supermodel-on-the-rise, she sure felt conscious about the amount of eyes that watched her as she stepped foot inside the ballroom of the estate. The tulles of her red skirt should have given her more space to breathe, but she felt her body hyperventilating as she nearly dove headfirst into the mini bar.

Looking down on her newly manicured nails had been a habit of hers that night. She pretended to admire the polished nails while she waited for the bartender to mix her strawberry daiquiri, not wanting to look up and meet anyone’s eyes.

The teenagers and the ones who recently left that phase wondered how… How did she change that much?

Her physique certainly matured more than anyone could expect. Her slightly rounded cheeks were replaced by the sharp jawline that could possibly kill. Her eyes that avoided any form of communication were foxy and just as sharp as her jaw. Her nose was just as sharp, as well. If you were to ask Lando, she didn’t have to wear heels to out-height him. Her body and face were no longer recognizable. She was ready to be a fan favourite and a well-paid supermodel.

Funnily enough, she prioritized racing first before she did her child modeling classes. How she managed to transition from one thing to another in the span of three years, nobody could answer. She was a jack of all trades, said by her mother, just like her siblings. She was one of the many sisters who had more options to pursue instead of just sticking to racing. So for her to continue with modeling and fashion… yeah, she already knew how to operate before she was even hired by an agency. At least now she didn’t have to struggle with finding work. She didn’t have to worry about getting hired by a team.

Her career now was clearly something that she couldn’t act on, though. She was always told to walk, don’t pay attention to what everyone’s talking about and get a move on.

But this party wasn’t a runway. The judging eyes didn’t want to pay attention to the details of the clothes, but rather, the figure who wore the dress herself.

“You’re a bit tense, lovie,” Tilly was a blessing in disguise, shaped in the form of a woman who carried a 20 weeks worth of a precious gift in her womb. She must’ve picked up on Sylvie’s discomfort that she decided to strut towards her sister’s direction as quickly as a pregnant woman could. “You could have stayed at home, as I said.”

“I’ve got to say hi to them at some point,” Sylvie murmured to her sister. “Especially Lando. That bloke wouldn’t let it go if I decided to avoid him, too.”

“Well, they should be around here,” Tilly quipped as she rubbed her stomach. Seeing the movement in her peripheral vision, Sylvie spontaneously reached out and got a feel of the bump. She tried to ease her mind by doing the most peaceful thing. “They’re not looking at you for the wrong reasons, Sylv. I promise.”

“If they are, then they’re going to have to face Maman and I’s wrath,” Tilly cheekily smiled. Tilly looked past Sylvie’s shoulder as she said, “Look. Here are the boys.”

Sylvie was glad that her glass was empty and already resting at the counter, otherwise she would have made a scene if she had dropped it after being attacked by a bear hug.

“Fucking Lando,” she swore beneath her breath, trying to pull him off as she turned feeling restrained. He wouldn’t let go. She would have sworn once more, preferably aloud this time, had it been for the other boys that stood excitedly with him. She couldn’t even look at them properly due to the hold that Lando had on her.

“I told you I was going to kidnap you,” Lando let out an evil laugh before waving enthusiastically at Tilly, “Thanks, Tils! I’ll return her to you later!”

“Good, you better,” Tilly called out.

Her poor feet would be dead by the end of the night and Sylvie knew that she was fucked if she didn’t do anything about it. It wasn’t like she could stop Lando from dragging her down to wherever he’s taking her to just so she could slip out of her Valentino. She couldn’t seem to stop him especially when they both passed by familiar faces. Especially one that she didn’t want to see.

Fucking Max Verstappen. She thought that God was laughing at her that night.

She couldn’t even look at him by the time that they formed some sort of circle around the lounge room.

The telly was on, but it had been playing nothing but the screen of the karaoke waiting to show its texts and tunes. None of them paid that much attention to it, especially her.

The boys seemed like they were craving for companionship of a woman as they surrounded her with curiosity and excitement. They tried to get her attention while she was still speaking to another person. She felt like she was what Fergie was talking about in Fergalicious.

She still couldn’t look him in the eyes, situating herself between Charles Leclerc— her favourite enemy in the track and George Russell— the boy that she once called “everyone’s crush”— to avoid sharing a conversation with Max. She made sure she sat next to the two, not looking at the Dutchman as she continued to catch up with Lando and the other people she was acquainted with.

Most of them knew who she was, of course. She had been friends with most of them for years, finding themselves in the same track as they trained. She competed with them, offering nothing to the boys but fun and friendly competition. She saw things differently from everyone else. No matter how much she wished to be an F1 driver, she didn’t push past her limits— not even when her father told her to.

She was dubbed “the Wild Mustang” at the age of 10 after she realized that she was able to reach the pedal and brake of her mother’s vehicle.

The boys had never seen someone do a donut in their own parking lot before. Let alone a 10-year-old girl—thank god for her Uncle Gilles for teaching her how to do that on TV. Despite their amazement and enthusiasm, Sylvie was no longer allowed to be in the vehicle on her own after she was caught doing another donut while the other kids watched and cheered. Sylvie clearly made everyone’s time because of her wildness and risky attitude. Oh, and her blunt mouth.

So for her to sit silently as she nodded to whatever it was that her acquaintances were talking about? It wasn’t her.

Ever since she left the academy, at the age of 14, she didn’t look back. She didn’t look back at her own friends, either. Lando was the only one persistent enough to barge inside her room only for him to find out that she was packing to go to university.

Extremely early advancement program, she said. She went to university and while she was there, Lando made sure that she’d call him at least once in a while. Otherwise the security would have a problem fighting with a 4 foot something boy who only wanted to see his friend.

Nobody truly saw her behaviour change besides from her family… and Lando. She seemed more reserved when she’s out and about, much to Lando’s dismay. He really hated it when he was the only one who would bring the energy into the room. As if she lacked the power. Lando was convinced that he annoyed her because of the lack of retorts she had passed to him.

He didn’t stop talking to her. He abruptly confronted her about her behaviour instead of trying to skirt his way around it. He was more than relieved that she wasn’t annoyed by his presence, yet he was curious to know what had her acting like this. She had been like that since she left the academy. Her silence could be interpreted as sourness and hatred.

Regardless, they saw each other every other six months whether it’s during the race weekend or an event hosted by a family. But she never went to any of his racing tournaments.

She had attended certain Formula One race weekends throughout the absence of her racing career. People only caught a glimpse of her whenever she went, wondering how fast she’d disappeared even when she visited each garage.

Her attitude remained the same to her family, though. That’s why Tilly and her sisters wondered how people could see Sylvie as an introvert or a bitch. She made fun of Tilly back when Toto was still a stranger to the family. She spoke to whichever Mercedes staff had brought her to the grandstand or hospitality. She was… still her.

She refused to speak to people her age— that weren’t her sisters, of course. Especially those who were familiar with the tracks and familiar with who she was. She never looked at them. She didn’t feel comfortable being in this room. Lando was just pushing her to speak as much as she could since his attention was everywhere. He was friends with everyone in the circle and that meant that she, too, had to speak.

Still, she couldn’t seem to reply to Max. She’d only have a passing comment if he asked something to her. He was clearly trying to get her attention, but her eyes were trained anywhere else but his own pair.

“I want some more Coke,” Lando complained, “you should have gotten more, Alex.”

“Eh? Why me? Why don’t you get up?” Alex Albon replied with a scoff, “You’re the one who’s drinking it.”

She took this as an opportunity to dip out for a moment as she said, “I’ll grab ‘em.”

“Thanks Mustang,” Lando’s boyish grin appeared on his face as she stood up from the carpet. Her skirt slightly wrinkled from sitting on the floor for too long, but her feet were thankful that the low heels that she wore were taken off. “You are the best.”

“Only when you need something, espèce de salaud paresseux.” you lazy bastard. Charles snorted, clearly understanding what she just called Lando as she walked down the hallway to find the little man cave that she once explored. The room was dark, the only thing that brightened was the mini fridge with cans of Coke in them.

She didn’t know why she tiptoed towards it, kneeling down to its level as her fingers touched the cold metal. She didn’t even realize she couldn’t carry that many cans. Lando, on a good day, would drink a dozen of the mini cans and Sylvie learned that you might as well get them all now before he bitches about running out of drink.

“D’you need help?”

“Oh, Jesus Christ!” She hit her head when she tried looking up to see who just spoke. But she didn’t need to look. She already knew who decided to corner her. In a dark room.

“Shit, shit, sorry schat,” Max swore as he reached out, “are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she replied with a hiss, “lost a fucking brain or two but I suppose I am.”

The last time that they spoke was at the paddock during the 2014 Silverstone race. That was when he shoulder checked her unintentionally, leaving her to bark at him in annoyance before stomping off. They didn’t even see each other’s faces.

“Here, do you need help?” He asked genuinely, gesturing with his empty hands as he offered some sort of support.

She didn’t bother hesitating, just shoving the cold cans of pop in his arms while she turned to grab more. She busied herself with the fridge before she groaned after hearing him clear his throat.

“So uh… How have you been, Sylvie?”

“Delightful,” she responded drily.

“How was your first and second term?”

“Busy.”

“How are you doing with the…modeling stuff then?” Oh he really wouldn’t leave without getting words out of her mouth.

“Great,” she muttered. He still wouldn’t catch onto the disinterest in her tone. Was he really this oblivious or did he lose a brain cell or two for the past few years?

“You look—“ he cleared his throat once more, feeling his face flush pink as he remembered the last picture that he saw of her. The holiday collection of Victoria’s Secret Pink. “You looked very beautiful at them.”

She paused, wondering what the fuck was he doing in the man cave with her. What was the reason for his intervention? Did he corner her just to compliment her latest project?

“Thank you,” she sighed before grabbing the last of the cans, kicking the fridge closed as she walked past him.

“I want to catch up with you,” he voiced out as they walked down the hallway. It remained empty, the ballroom was obviously occupied by loud music and loud guests and hosts. The lounge room, despite it being a few feet away, remained loud as well as the boys sung their hearts out. Poorly.

His voice echoed in the hallway, leaving her to pause and turn around. She remained standing there as he finally jogged towards her. They were both still cradling cans of pop as if those were their children.

“It’s just…” Max trailed off, wanting to scratch his head but couldn’t. “You stopped talking to all of us after you left. At least all of us but Lando.”

She wanted to scoff. She wanted to laugh at his face. There was no way he’d have this much audacity to assume that she’d even dare talk to him. Not after all of that fiasco.

“Some of us were wondering,” he rocked back and forth on his feet. “Especially with where you went after all of that. I was going to apologize to you.”

“Hm,” she hummed disinterestedly. She was itching to go back to the lounge room.

“For doing that,” Max spoke meekly.

She was infuriated for the first time in four years. She had never been angry about this. She downplayed her anger and acted as if she had only quit the academy when she was already on her way to become the first female F1 driver. She pretended that he didn’t exist, because God only knew what she could do at the thought of him.

Back in 2014, when she learned that he was a reserved driver, she begged her sister for something so silly. To fire Max. She didn’t really mean that. She only wanted to say his name with disdain to let it out of her system. But then she returned to her routine of being silent and keeping some shit to herself, not wanting to slag him off any further as an ounce of guilt filled her mind.

Then he said some shit like this. He wouldn’t even tell her what he did. She had never been so angry since now.

But she could only offer nothing but a cold tone. “For doing what?” She asked coolly, looking at him in the eyes as she challenged him.

Her coldness left him stammering, “F-for the uh…” then he was silent.

Watching his mouth clamp shut, she laughed humourlessly before shaking her head in disbelief. “If you’re going to apologize, you have to recognize what you’ve done first. Oh, Verstappen,” she tutted, “you are so silly.”

Walking back to the lounge room, she left him behind in the hallway. Maybe after today, she could cry herself to sleep this time. She hasn't been able to cry ever since she left. Maybe after letting that out, she’d be able to rest a little bit better.

Everyone thought that, after growing up with each other, they’d end up as something else that’ll last forever. But if anyone had seen this confrontation, they’d express how wrong they were. Because the first glimpse of her long lost lover turned into something like hate. It wasn’t the same as it was before 2012.

[vykko]

Not going to lie, dyslexia is amazing as nobody in my school or life remembers it exists and if they do they pretend it isn’t a disability

it great like

Tiny letters for no reason that I have difficulty reading

Me trying to make my phone more accessible to myself is not as good as I want it because both, the lay out is not meant for big letters and it doesn’t apply it’s self to anything not deflauf on the phone LIKE GOOGLE

having to learn cursive just as it was no longer useful so now I write in semi cursive when tired or having to be quick, I can’t read cursive

having to ask people who know I’m dyslexic even as well to slow down multiple times when writing stuff

not spelling well so getting lower marks

its a pain in the arse to get my accommodations and ATAR is basically wanting me to get diagnosed again to get a lower word limit so fuck me I guess

I can write and spell well, buuuut because everyone else can write quickly I have to too so I cant read my notes and I’ve cried before because a teacher would slow down

I have to write my notes before the teacher says so, so I can have written before they ask if everyone’s done. Which if I say I’m not I get either have everyone now focusing on me or it’s kinda ingored

”why do you have someone scribe” we don’t have teacher aids in high school for some reason, and during exams yet again getting accommodations is incredibly difficult it was a very hard for me to just get word limits brought down

beimg forced to write rather then type because if the teacher lets us use computers people might play games so again fuck me

them trying to help me with effectively treating dyslexia like I I understood nothing in the English language. also we worked on vowels sounds for ab example of how they did stuff, first I’d done it for 2-3 years 2 yes pior in speech therapy and I was flying through the activities and instead of picking up that I already knew the basics they kept doing the basics

effctivly trying to teach someone who is having difficulties holding their breath underwater for the same time as everyone else by teaching them how to swim by scratch when they allready can swim

more gaint stuff but it gets more ableist so I’d not want to talk about here but later

Last one is the time they changed the daily noctice section telling us where to go when a teacher was away

everyone had difficulty reading it and I couldn’t read it at all and got mild headaches from eye strain, I got lost for 20 minutes because I had forgotten my teachers name and had to get others to read out the table for me and getting pointed I’m the wrong direction by myself

It happened again but it was fault of lazy admin

yeah but I have soo many more stuff on how dyslexia isn’t at least in my school, city, most standard books, old people, the special system at my school, most signs, weirdly a lot of dyslexia awareness stuff and much much more is not accommodated for

also why is dyslexia treated like it’s not a disability

Like if a website has a bad autocorrect system you can very easily tell how much difficulty I have eg

tumblr = good

Skype= BAD!!

like it’s so jarring when I go and write after texting because all of a sudden it’s incredibly hard to English

like if you want to see how kinda I write in pen but for typing either look at posts I made while tired or upset or I’ll take a screenshot of Skype messages

sorry for how long of a rant this is, it’s just infuriating how I honestly struggle because somehow I’m excepted to do as well as my peers WHEN I HAVE A LEARNING DISABILITY, honestly dyslexia isn’t hard to accommodate

[astrabear]

I posted 810 times in 2022

That's 489 more posts than 2021!

363 posts created (45%)

447 posts reblogged (55%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@fruityculture

@raedear

@astrabear

@beepbeepsan

@ongreenergrasses

I tagged 684 of my posts in 2022

Only 16% of my posts had no tags

#ask game - 102 posts

#my fic - 100 posts

#the old guard - 96 posts

#the old guard fanfiction - 35 posts

#life of a writer - 31 posts

#nicolo di genova - 22 posts

#andromache the scythian - 19 posts

#yusuf al kaysani - 18 posts

#nile freeman - 18 posts

#quynh - 16 posts

Longest Tag: 135 characters

#obligatory clarification that i don't think there's anything inherently bad about putting on different accessories and making them kiss

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

I really enjoyed Our Flag Means Death and I'm glad a second season has been confirmed, but as an Old Guard fan it has been hilarious to see the OFMD crowd acting like waiting an entire ten weeks for news of a sequel was torture. You are a child, an infant. Your impatience is thus infantile. Our fandom has forgotten more ways to yearn for updates than entire stan armies will ever learn.

218 notes - Posted June 2, 2022

#4

Thinking about “We all remember what it was like.” They all remember, even Nicky and Joe who came into immortality together. After almost a thousand years, Nicky still remembers the confusion and fear and alienation, enough that it makes finding this new immortal their most urgent task.

My favorite fic treatments of their first deaths really lean into this. Not just surprise or awe, but horror. Going a little bit out of their minds, begging to die and stay dead, because that’s what humans do, that’s how the world is supposed to work. I feel it viscerally, imagining the terror of finding yourself so profoundly apart from everything you’ve ever known to be true.

And the only other person who’s in it with you is the enemy you were trying to kill. This is the real impediment to replicating their dynamic in an AU. Anyone can run the enemies-to-lovers course. But enemies to “I still hate you and I don’t understand you but you are the only solid ground in this terrifying new reality and I think if we don’t hold onto each other we’ll lose everything” to lovers is pretty hard to capture in any other setting. 

282 notes - Posted April 4, 2022

#3

unofficial poll time

You are reading fanfic. The source property is set in the present day. The fic, maybe because it’s an AU or the canon just works that way, is set in a noticeably different historical period. Which of these answers most accurately reflects your feelings? (choose all that apply)

A. I like it when the writing style (both dialogue and narration) is period-appropriate, or at least a general approximation thereof.

B. I like the dialogue to be period-appropriate, but it’s fine (or even preferred) for the narration to feel more modern.

C. I don’t care either way, as long as there aren’t glaring anachronisms.

D. I prefer that both the dialogue and narration are similar to what I’m used to reading and seeing. So not modern slang or anything like that, but I don’t want it to be jarringly different.

E. I like it when the characters speak the way I’m used to them speaking, even if it’s not period-appropriate.

F. I simply don’t read fics set in past eras.

G. The only thing that matters is that it’s well written.

H. English is not my first language, so old-fashioned phrasing and vocabulary is more difficult for me to read.

I. I actively dislike attempts at period language unless the writer has done enough research to do it correctly.

J. I honestly couldn’t tell you in advance what kinds of things are likely to throw me out of the story, I just know that there’s a potential for it to happen.

K. I read fic because I like the characters and tropes. I don’t pay attention to writing style.

L. Other (in tags)

Please share and answer in the tags. This is very relevant to something I’m working on and I’d like to get some outside perspective.

315 notes - Posted June 13, 2022

#2

The violence at the end of the episode was upsetting, but I tell you, what has stuck with me in the days since I watched it was "Which one of you gonna fuck me?!" It haunts me. Deeply shocking, viscerally repulsive, absolutely heartbreaking... and just the tiniest bit funny. It's like a gut punch every time I think about it.

I think a very young Claudia is much better suited to a written format. A five or six year old actor can't give the kind of performance that's required... and some things just wouldn't be right to do with a child actor of any age. But a 19-year-old playing a character who's physically 14 opens up so many tragic, horrifying possibilities.

And Bailey Bass is so good. I can't get her face out of my head. "And after forty years... still little boys?" God, there's just so much going on. And you feel all of it.

388 notes - Posted October 26, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

The tough thing about boundaries is that it’s not enough to state them, you have to enforce them.

I think some folks see “setting boundaries” as a kind of magic talisman to influence other people’s behavior. “I’ll tell you what I need or can’t accept, and you will act accordingly.” And sometimes that’s what happens, and that’s great! But if the other person disregards your stated boundaries, it doesn’t mean setting boundaries didn’t work.

Because boundaries aren’t about others’ behavior, they’re about your own. If the other person’s behavior doesn’t change, then yours has to. “Please don’t discuss [x topic] with me” is a request. “If you continue to talk about [x topic] then I will end this conversation/hang up/leave” is a boundary, which you must then enact. The point is less about stopping the other person (although that’s ideal) and more about protecting yourself. And you have to be committed to protecting yourself, because no one else will be.

You have to be so committed that you’re willing to tolerate other people being hurt or angry or uncomfortable. You have to accept that some relationships might change. You have to hold onto the idea that it’s all right for them to change, because the way they were before was hurting you, and you deserve to not be hurt. You gave them a choice: maintain a relationship or keep doing the thing that hurts you, and they chose to keep hurting you, so if the situation is now awkward or unpleasant that was because of their choice. Enforcing boundaries means deciding that if someone is going to feel bad here, it need not be always and only you.

There is no magic formula that will make other people treat you kindly and respectfully. But you can learn to treat yourself with kindness and respect. That’s what enforcing a boundary is.

9,690 notes - Posted July 17, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[letters-to-rosie]

Section Four: Delivery

How we package the tour is just about as important as everything else. This is normally where one would talk about grammar, but I find that general grammar advice can be kinda hard to give. Even in English, different kinds of English have different rules. I use American English rules (usually Chicago style), but I break the rules all the time for fun. If grammar is a concern (and it can be, since it can hinder the communication process), I’d recommend doing some practice online. I’ve recommended the Longman’s Student Grammar to a client before as well, but honestly, this is the internet, and it’s probably not that deep lol. Because I tend to think of writing as a communicative process, the questions I ask myself about delivery are often related to that: how does this come across? Is this being explained in a way that relies on patterns of my own thinking that my audience doesn’t necessarily share? Is this clear? If it’s not clear, how can I improve its clarity?

Generally, clarity is the chief concern for me. If I’m not being clear, then I’m not communicating, and if I’m not communicating, the experience of my readers is hampered. But otherwise? Go crazy.

When I work with friends to resolve issues of writing on the sentence level, many times the trouble at hand is that their vision in their heads is not making it onto the page. It’s important to remember that things that are obvious to us are not necessarily so to other people. While we don’t want to overexplain everything in a way that feels condescending, it’s good to be mindful and look for blind spots we may have. The good thing is that many other aforementioned writing tools such as perspective, narrative distance and voice, tone, and the like are helpful in this task. As are thinking of our goals. No writing delivery will ever be perfect, but we can always practice in ways that lead us closer to our goals.

Some things I like to keep in mind include:

Asking whether my descriptions impair meaning. I think a lot of people like to develop prose styles that feel rich and artistic. However, sometimes it can be hard to accomplish this and still get an intended meaning across. I often rewrite descriptions I feel like are unhelpful to make them simpler. As I improve, however, I feel like my range of options for descriptions grows along with me, and my prose becomes richer.

Rhythm. This one is a bit hard because it’s not equal for everyone; familiarity with the spoken version of the language you’re writing in and musical sensibility are big advantages here. Just like speech, written language has rhythm. This is often mentioned in the context of sentence length, but it’s also helpful for word choice. Good rhythm reduces awkwardness, and less awkward writing is easier to read. If a section of writing feels awkward, I almost always suggest reading it aloud. Reading things aloud is helpful for uncovering where things feel redundant, bulky, or confusing. I’ve read entire editing assignments aloud for this reason.

Word choice. Word choice is one of those things that improves with reading. Beyond that, it’s hard to improve at it. We need not be beholden to dictionary definitions of words, especially when writing in a creative way, but the communication aspect of writing does mean that some words might not get across what we mean. I tend to doublecheck ones I’m unsure about, just in case. If it doesn’t have to do with meaning, then go crazy! There are some words that just sound more fun than others. Trust yourself here (I make like all my word choice decisions based on rhythm and the potential for wordplay. If a pun can be made, I’m making it).

Beyond that, things like dialogue, how much description to apply, how short or long you want sentences to be, how you want the writing to feel—just about all of that is subject to your goals. Don’t be afraid to change things up if you think it’ll help your vision for your writing! Especially in “The Fire Next Time” and “revolution,” I’ve been doing a good bit of experimenting, trying things like more natural-sounding dialogue, varying the level of description, cursing, and so on. It’s really fun! It makes the projects very different from anything I’ve written before them.

[ao3feed-the100]

This Time We All Do Better

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/WSxlH3A

by Amberpoconuts

While Clarke may have failed the test Raven was able to earn them a re-try.

So basically I did this with harry potter and figured why the hell not? The logistics get explained in Chapter 1 but long story short everyone wakes up in season 1 episode 1 and remembers the entire series. Honestly, it wasn't even hard to swing it since the show ended in a rapture. Lol.

 Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own original content.

Words: 11602, Chapters: 5/?, Language: English

Fandoms: The 100 (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage

Categories: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M

Characters: Indra (The 100), Madi (The 100), Gia - Character, Nyla - Character, Wells Jaha

Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Bellamy Blake/Echo, Emori/John Murphy (The 100), Octavia Blake/Lincoln, Monty Green/Harper McIntyre, Abby Griffin/Marcus Kane, Eric Jackson/Nathan Miller, Jasper Jordan/Maya Vie, Clarke Griffin & Madi, Bellamy Blake & Clarke Griffin, Bellamy Blake & Octavia Blake

Additional Tags: Feel Good Fix It, Time Travel Fix-It, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Time Travel, After Season 7 Time travel isn't even that wierd, But basicly everyone wakes up and rembers thier lives, Total fix it of the entire series, I am not a scientist so bare with me, Not Beta written, The Relationships are not the center of the story, Well at least not the romantic aspects of them, I'm more of a world builder type of bitch, no hate allowed, If you don't have anything nice to say don't say it at all applies in this fic!, Constructive Criticism Welcome, I will delete or freeze any hate comments

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/WSxlH3A

[kikithecoconut]

Look Up

I wrote this piece last year in English for my folio and ended up actually liking it to a degree, So I’m posting it here.

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“You aren’t afraid of being alone in the dark, you’re afraid of not being alone in the dark.”

A saying his mother had taught him from a young age. Although it didn’t really apply to him anymore. He was always in the dark.

Having no eyes frequently impacted his work. As a librarian, he couldn’t read any of the books people asked for and often had an apprentice who would do the work he couldn’t.

Such a pity that his last one disappeared. The town had given their condolences to The Librarian, well, those who weren’t too scared of him. 

Luckily, finding another hadn’t been too difficult. A ding of the bell above the door told him that somebody had just entered the library.

“Hello? Mr Librarian?”

His name was unknown to everyone in town, even the young apprentice now standing in his doorway. Oliver was his name. A smartly dressed young man with platinum blond hair. 

The Librarian scuttled through the bookshelves to greet him. “Ah, you must be Oliver, hm?” His voice was raspy, as if his throat was dry. That was another feature that tended to put people off. He was wearing a simple cloak, a cobweb pattern embroidered into the lining.

“Oh-! Yes that- that’s me-“, timid, yet still so enthusiastic. The Librarian smiled, “there are two rules here, boy,” he grabbed his wrist, almost yanking him towards a black, menacing gate. The words ‘Forbidden Section’ were written across it. 

“Under no circumstance do you enter this section of the library. And don’t be loud.”

That was it? Oliver wasn’t about to complain but these seemed like very relaxed rules for a man people were utterly petrified of.

“Uhm- sir- if you don’t mind me asking,”

“Hm?”

“Do you have a name?”

“That’s none of your concern, boy. Just call me Librarian.”

The next few weeks passed without an issue. The Librarian asked his questions, all of which Oliver answered honestly. The oddest one being about the colour of his eyes. A soft blue. He’d found the smile The Librarian gave him rather scary after that.  Oliver asked his questions too, but The Librarian never answered, and when he did, Oliver didn’t know if he believed him. The only issues the young man ever had with the job was the lack of light in the building. He had once suggested they get more lights in the library, however The Librarian only responded with very a firm ‘no’. Oliver didn’t ask again.

One day, The Librarian told him to stay late, as he had something for Oliver.

As the Librarian led him towards the back of the library, he lit a torch, stopping just in front of the gate of the Forbidden Section and muttered something in a language Oliver didn’t understand. “Aperi viam”.

And just like that, the gate slowly opened.

“For being such a wonderful apprentice, I’m going to give you a book. You aren’t obligated to read it, although I recommend you do.” He said, no other explanation behind it.

“..Okay.” Confusion riddled Oliver’s features.  

The Librarian pulled out a book from one of the shelves. Its cover looked old, as if it hadn’t been read in a long time. Oliver frowned. If he wasn’t allowed back here then why was The Librarian giving him this book? Before he could question him, The Librarian was rushing him back out and towards the door of the shop.

“I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, young man.”

Upon arriving home, the book was discarded on a chair. Forgotten about until it was far too late.

The book had completely left Oliver’s mind by the time he entered the library the next day. All seemed well, although The Librarian was nowhere to be seen.

“Hello?” He waited for a few short seconds, before taking a few more steps inside. He scanned the room, but there was nothing to indicate the man was there. He decided to look around, hoping that he was somewhere out of sight. But he couldn’t find The Librarian anywhere. One thing that did catch his eye however, was the fact that the wide open gate to the Forbidden Section. He took a deep breath, before lighting a torch, just as they had the day before, and stepping through the gate.

He walked slowly, the knot in his stomach tightening with each passing step.

He was actively breaking the number one rule of the library. Don’t enter the Forbidden Section alone.

“You silly, silly boy.”

He jumped at the sound of the voice. He couldn’t place exactly where it had come from, but it was with him. Somewhere nearby.

“I told you to read that book, yet here you are.” Oliver was trembling. The library had always made its odd noises and scared him a couple of times, but it had never been like this, he had never felt like he was in genuine danger.

“Look up.”

Holding up the torch, the last thing he saw was The Librarian hanging from the ceiling, like a spider, his head rotated 180°. It was the most horrifying sight he’d ever seen, and it would unfortunately be his last. He began to make a run for it, but The Librarian seemed to move at a speed that no man should be able to. The moment he was directly above Oliver, he dropped from the ceiling.

Everything went dark.

When The Librarian awoke from the surgery, he laughed. Oliver’s eyes had been the perfect colour, the perfect size. Perfect. The Librarian could finally see. After all these years.

His doctor, Samuel Voytek, was a gifted man. Both in his practice of medicine and magic. This hadn’t been the first time that he’d done the surgery for The Librarian. None of the other eyes had been right though. But these ones. These soft, blue eyes that he’d so miraculously found. They were everything he could’ve wanted.

The book that the Librarian had gifted Oliver had told him what would happen. If Oliver had read the book and hadn’t returned to the library again, then he would still be alive. The Librarian would have left him alone and found another. Alas, he forgot all about the book, and had lost his eyes for it. His life. He told the boy’s family that he had been killed by an animal in the forest after he had sent Oliver out to gather firewood for him. The eyes now in his head, he had explained, had come from another kingdom. They just happened to look similar to that of his former apprentice’s eyes.

[saintzenni]

fic author q&a

heehee love these!! thanks for tagging me @deadheaddaisy and @themurdochmemesteries !! time to procrastinate :)

1. why do you write fanfic?

i think my answer is twofold. firstly, i want to be a novelist one day, and writing/publishing fanfiction is a great way to improve my writing and also learn to deal with affects such as joy, disappointment, etc that can arise from the reception of creative output. i love storytelling and honing that craft. secondly, i just genuinely love the characters i write about! i want to see them in stories that their shows didn’t tell.

2. which of your posted stories do you think about the most, even though the story is “finished”?

overall, probably “Daydreaming (Is a Mild Form of Dissociation),” as it’s the first enterprise fic i wrote/posted, and i have a bad habit of measuring my current writing against it (have i improved? or is my writing worse now?). i think i’ve improved, but i think there’s still stuff i can learn from my past self—i think my figurative language was stronger back then, and i’m trying to incorporate that more now.

but right now, it’s probably “Sweet Tooth.” honestly i just have an obsession with mirror tucker because he’s very chipped china teacup missing its matching saucer. also i think i can improve on that story, and i’m considering adding some stuff to it.

honourable mention to “Sour Cherry Pie” because i think i want to make it into a series, so i think about it often in that context :)

3. if you could give yourself fic advice from when you started writing fic, what would that advice be?

DON’T DELETE YOUR STORIES!!!!! i was on ff.net and the appearance of your profile was pretty important, so i deleted fics that got low interaction/were no longer representative of my writing/i didn’t like anymore. i regret it so much. i wish i’d left them up so i could see stuff like what i put in the author’s notes, the comments, and how much i improved over time.

4. what’s your relationship to fic stats?

pretty good? i’ll admit that sometimes they’re discouraging if something didn’t do well, but overall, i’m pretty detached from them emotionally. stats for me evoke curiosity more than anything else. and, i mean, when something does well and the numbers reflect that, it’s a great feeling! it shows that i’ve affected, like, a classroom of people in some way, and that’s pretty awesome.

5. is there a pairing or scenario or friendship that you miss writing? if not, why not?

hmm not massively? but i do sometimes feel kind of nostalgic for fruk (hetalia ugh i know gross). that pairing was my first foray into fic writing and i still sometimes get a bit of a freudian slip where i think “arthur blah blah blah” instead of whatever character i’m supposed to be writing for. i definitely miss the diversity of stories that had been written for fruk and i miss that creative precedent! i felt like i could write anything without the constraints of canon. i think star trek in general is a lot more dedicated to writing within the canon timeline, and i sometimes feel it limits my creativity, as there aren’t as many different stories out there using the characters i love that can inspire me.

6. what motivates you to write?

god, what a loaded question. what drives humanity to storytelling? maybe some kind of inborn desire to create? to communicate ourselves to others? to explain our world? i really don’t know—i’ve written on and off since i was eight years old, and i have no idea what motivated me to start; maybe i was just creative. i think that’s part of it: i’ve always had ideas for stories that wanted to be given air, you know?

probably it has something to do with helping me sort out the world around me and specifically social interactions, as my autism made it necessary that i observe and learn social cues. writing characters probably helped me process, understand, and apply those cues in a safe context. maybe part of it is the catharsis to be found in stories and the way they can help me process/regulate my emotions.

as an adult, it’s therapeutic, i think, to have a hobby that you don’t expect to profit from; that you can use as an outlet to express yourself in a way that maybe you can’t in your regular life.

but i also just love language. i love words and how they fit together and how they flow. how black letters on a white page can create bright, sensorial images in the brain; how words sometimes disappear, almost, subsumed into the images being generated in the reader’s mind. i love literature, and i want to study it and apply its lessons. so maybe writing is about learning? i dunno.

7. why do you write for the fandom(s) that you write for?

to spite rick berman :)

in all seriousness, enterprise was a badly mismanaged show. it had the makings of greatness, but somehow berman & braga consistently fumbled the bag? but the characters are broad enough that basically anything goes in terms of characterization and i like that. it makes them more like clay waiting to be moulded rather than a finished statue, and i think that gives me as a writer a lot of leeway.

as for desmond’s, it’s just a genuinely awesome, heartwarming show that i love and cherish! in its case, part of the allure for me is the lack of fanfic for it; i can do whatever i want. there’s no fanon. it’s very liberating. and i love the characters!

8. if you’re stuck on a wip, what do you do?

usually, i take a break. walk away from it, maybe sleep on it and come back. usually the problem will become clear after sitting on it for a bit. but sometimes, i find the best way to get past writer’s block is just to bulldoze through it! force yourself get anything on the page, no matter how terrible, because you can always go back and edit.

9. what do you wish people knew about comments?

i know it’s kind of taboo in fanfic spaces but i am begging for some constructive criticism🧎🧎i wish more people left (constructively) critical comments!

10. maybe there’s a question you wish had been on here. what’s that question (and answer)?

maybe: thoughts on concrit? i fucking love that shit. i eat it up. i think fanfic readers/commenters (and i will admit that i’m guilty of this, too, because i never want to make someone feel bad and i don’t know every author’s opinions on concrit) don’t feel comfortable giving criticism because in their heads, criticism equals you think the story was bad. maybe it’s just me, but i think receiving criticism is one of the biggest compliments i could receive: it means the person criticizing read the story close enough that they can see places i could improve! i find it really hard sometimes to exist in an echo chamber of people saying they liked what i did, even when i can sense something’s off about the story but can’t put my finger on what it is. i just wish people left more critical comments! (and if you read my stuff, please feel free to leave those kinds of comments!!! i will not take it personally, i promise!!!!)

that was very fun! thanks for letting me yap :) tagging: @papercranesong @glitter-and-metal @cyanocitta-cristata-bromia @scatterbrainedcapybara no pressure!

fic author q&a

I was tagged by @deadheaddaisy for a fun and great fic author game. Thank you for tagging me, @deadheaddaisy! ❤️ As happy as I am to be tagged, the thing is, y’all, I’ve done that particular game a few times already and, even though it’s a great game, I was in the mood for something different. So, I’ve made new questions — and answered them — and I’ve tagged some folks in case they want to answer them, too.

1. Why do you write fanfic?

Life can be stressful, and writing fanfic can be like a little vacation. It’s not my life, anymore, it’s the characters’ lives.

2. Which of your posted stories do you think about the most, even though the story is “finished”?

I think about Malleable and Unmalleable Orders (Mirror Pikeone, E) probably because it’s so different from what I usually write. I also think about The Light Before Dawn (Pikeuna, M) because, even though it would have bogged down the story, I do think they eventually get married and the details of all that sometimes cycle through my brain.

3. If you could give yourself fic advice from when you first started writing fic, what would that advice be?

Enjoy this time of not really knowing fic conventions or expectations.

4. What’s your relationship to fic stats?

I try to avoid them. I love every kudos and comment and bookmark and subscription. But I don’t go looking for the numbers unless I have to.

5. Is there a pairing or scenario or friendship you miss writing? If so, why? If not, why not?

I miss writing Kathryn Janeway/Tom Paris. I had a lot of fun with that pairing for a while.

6. What motivates you to write?

If I don’t write the stories down, they get stuck in my brain. So I guess setting them free (in good ways) is my motivation.

7. Why do you write for the fandom(s) that you write for?

I really do believe in the ideals of Star Trek — IDIC and peaceful coexistence and all that stuff. Even though I often write for the spin-off series, not the original Star Trek, creating stories in that universe lets me be part of it, even in a small way. Also, as a bonus, I do think Trek readers are great about comments, kudos, etc., and that helps a lot.

8. If you’re stuck writing a WIP, what do you do?

I might work on something else or take a break. The problem will rotisserie in my head and probably work itself out if I don’t push it too hard.

9. What do you wish people knew about comments?

That any nice comment is welcome and appreciated and, if the person doesn’t want a reply to their comment, they can just say so and it’s easy enough for the author to honor their wishes.

10. Maybe there’s a question you wish had been on here. What’s that question (and answer)?

How about, “Do you read public AO3 bookmark notes on your stories?” Yes. Because of bookmarks like these on The Autobiography of Kirsten Clancy (Gen, T):

Tagging with no pressure: @deadheaddaisy, @iamstartraveller776, @fiadorable, @sun-lit-roses, @coffee-in-that-nebula, @grissomesque, @enterprise-come-in, @starrybouquet, @lorcaswhisky, @marymoss1971, @emilie786, @cnrothtrek, @elephant-in-the-pride-parade, @pc-corner, @divinemissem13, @meddow, @missparker, @jazzfic, @the-lady-general, and you. If my tag anxiety got the best of me and I didn’t put your name here, please consider yourself tagged. ❤️

[lonelyridesinecto-one]

Cat Caught Your Tongue?

Egon Spengler • She/Her Pronouns • GB Intern!Reader • SFW

Requested by: Anon

“You’re finally hiring another to help around?”

“She’s a student at Colombia looking for a work study while finishing up her PHD in Chemistry. She’ll get her experience and lab hours working along side me.”

“Egon, she’s working in GB headquarters. She will be doing much more than being your lab assistant”

“That is what she needs to meet her requirements and she’ll do field work along Ray”

Peter quickly grabs Egon’s shoulder causing him to immediately push it off. “So she’ll be working with you and Ray—-“

“And Winston”

“And Winston—But not me?”

“She’s here to learn and you are a man whore that doesn’t know when to keep his hands to himself” Egon states opening his GB locker grabbing his coat.

“Way to already put an impression of me—-“

“How’s your relationship with Ms. Barrett?” He smirks receiving an annoyed look from his friend. “Don’t scare her away on her first day tomorrow” and with that Spengler makes his leave.

The next day, Egon expecting to be the first to arrive at the firehouse given he always goes into work around 5am. He spotted the young woman skimming through a very used composition book and as he got closer he noticed the messy but clear handwriting going through formulas.

“If you change that number to an odd one, you’ll receive the positive result you’re looking for”

“Yes but I’m applying this to the spore study I’m doing on my spare—“ The woman finally looks up at the scientist before her and couldn’t help the smile on her face. “Well. Aren’t you a sight?”

“I-I…What?”

“Sorry Dr. Spengler, I’m Y/F/N Y/L/N…and I tell no lie when I do say you are quite the sight. Taller than I expected…much handsomer in person compared to the university’s paper” Y/N smirks spotting the heat to rise to Egon’s ears as he was quick to ignore what she said by clearing his throat.

“Are you ready for your first assignment?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be…Doctor” She continues to smirk entering the firehouse with Egon.

Peter being the last one to arrive out of the Ghostbusters, spotted the intern talking to Janine and Lewis as he slowly approaches the crowd.

“Well hello—-“

“Sorry have to get these calculations to Dr. Spengler and Dr. Stantz” Y/N cuts off Peter quickly heading down to the basement as the OG Ghostbuster looks at the other two standing there watching them laugh at him.

“Don’t even try Pete”

“Try what?”

“To shoot your shot” Lewis states with that dorky smile of his as he leaves to his desk.

“Shoot your shot—-Are you teaching Lewis phrases?”

Janine shrugs smiling closing her magazine to answer the phone watching Peter leave annoyed.

“With these numbers we should be okay until next month. Maybe we can look into energy alternatives to avoid—-“

“The containment unit overloading and erupting like the first time around with the Gozer incident” Y/N fills in the rest watching Ray, Egon, and Winston all look at her a bit surprised. “What? I followed all of Doctor Spengler’s works from his days back at Colombia that who wouldn’t stumble across a few articles written about the ghostbusters. And might I say…Dr. Spengler knows how to pose for a magazine.” The way she bites her lip after saying that made Egon’s face heat up as the two bystanders (Ray and Winston) share a quick glance. “I’m going to grab any job ticket if we have any from Janine, I’ll be back” she states letting the silence creep in with her departure.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Language”

“Sorry but damn, you’ve caught one Spengs”

“I did not catch anything. She really likes my work”

“And really likes you as well. Egon don’t be blind to that” Winston states with a nodding Ray right beside him.

“…You two are idiots”

Sorry Doctor, but you’re the idiot

Even Peter started to notice the smallest things Y/N would do or say to get Spengler flustered and honestly it gave him fuel.

“Americano” Y/N handed it off to Ray. “Black with two sugars” she hands it to Peter. “Double shot espresso with milk” handing the drink off to Winston. “Black & Green tea with lemon” handing the drink to Janine getting a soft thank you. “Honey lavender” she handed off the second to last drink to Lewis before turning to Spengler.

“I don’t drink coffee or te—-“

“Green juice. But a bit light on the kale because I’ve heard not everybody enjoys such a green so” Y/N hands the drink to Egon as she couldn’t see the others’ expressions but Egon could seeing that they’re waiting for the man turn beet red any second.

“You’re not…an ordinary intern. You don’t have to get drinks to rise up in your work study”

“I know but I’m always willing to show my gratitude to you Dr. Spengler” She coos watching him blush again before turning to pick up her tea seeing the group scramble making her smirk a bit. “I have to go back to the university to meet up with one of my mentors. I’ll be back before the on-call shift starts” she informs collecting her things and as she passes a turning Egon she turned on her heel to face back at him. “Don’t miss me too much” she winks on her leave.

“Yeah…don’t miss me too much, Egon” Peter teases getting a laugh from Ray. “Come look at these readings Doctor. Please punish me if I wrote something wrong” he continued and it only got weirder.

Causing Egon to be awkward in the lab with Y/N for the on-call shift. Her first shift as a GB rookie but in the mean time they were working on both of their side projects outside of the ghostbusters.

“What exactly are you aiming your focus toward when you get your doctorate in Chemistry?”

“Finally taking an interest in lil ol me?” Y/N teases watching him roll his eyes for once as she went back to her Petri dishes. “I’ve always admired your work when it comes to psychosis but I was more interested in the medicine to help “tone it down” in a sense. I prefer testing on alternatives compared to the inhumane way of testing on animals like most chemists do for pharmaceuticals”

“It’s surprising how some animals are still being tested on for certain products. Animal trails for medical research is…something else. Not right but until the medical community finds a way to cure disease without fatal trails along the way, we’re stuck.” Egon sighs before taking out his brief case from under the desk in the lab to retrieve a business card and immediately handed it to Y/N. “Hopefully you’ll be a part of the change like her and her team is. I’ll put in the good word before you graduate and you’ll be set with a job afterward”

Y/N happily took the business card biting her lip to stop herself from the over joyful squeal that could escape from her. She’s been looking for a while and part of her is a little disappointed since being with the Ghostbusters changed a lot of what she wanted to do for a career. But given the opportunity…

“Already want to give rid of me that quickly?” Y/N smirks inching closer to Egon as he felt himself bringing himself closer. “Color me disappointed that you wouldn’t want me to stick around…be your personal lab assistant?” She continued to smirk leaning a bit closer only for Egon to take her shoulders into his hands forcing her back just a tad which awoken something in her resulting in a surprised smile.

“I know why you’re doing this”

“Please tell me…and slowly” She says playfully causing Egon to stutter before letting go of her and standing his ground.

“From what I’ve seen the past few weeks with you here, your behavior has only changed drastically and always around me. Your tone of voice being more…firm and playful when talking toward me compared to the harsh bite you have toward Venkman. The body language and always being in my proximity…always keeping eye contact and clear speech when answering my questions…bringing yourself closer to keep my focus on your actions…” Egon started to trail on as Y/N couldn’t help the joy and satisfaction she was feeling when he continued to describe how she was flirting with him ultimately leading to him leaning against the lab table as she strides back close to him.

“Is that right, Dr. Spengler?”

“Y-Yes. Your hormones or also known as oxytocin for females in this case are firing to your brain a sense of trust in my presence.”

“Hm. Well to sum up everything you’ve said Dr. Spengler” Y/N brought her lips to his ear keeping her voice quiet. “It simply means that I like you” she smiles pressing a kiss to his cheek watching his complexion redden when she pulls away.

With that being done, she leaves him to ponder what happened to go make some tea for herself. Egon genuinely felt as if he was going to explode with that information.

The last few months of her internship felt extremely fast, and Egon hated every second of it when it got closer to her leaving. She grew on him…enjoyed her company, her intelligence, her smile…laugh…

He’s smitten and only knew one way to tell her.

“Y/N mind helping me with a quick experiment?”

“Sure!” Y/N smiles picking up her things to follow Egon to the lab only to watch him trip and fall. She immediately drops her things to help him watching his blank expression with his darting eyes. “Egon, are you okay?”

“I’m sorry…I have fallen…” Egon adjusts his glasses taking her offered hand being helped to his feet. “For you”

It clicked instantly to Y/N as she was at a loss for words with a blush rising to her cheeks and a smile to follow.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” Egon gently rests his hand on her cheek seeing her ease into his touch which he didn’t calculate happening so he had to collect himself quickly. “Cat caught your tongue?”

[elvisabutler]

I’m always a sucker for meet cute. Would you be open to writing something for Austin and a non-celebrity person meeting under mundane circumstances? I’ll leave it open, but let me know if you want something more specific!

i literally looked at this ask when it came in and had to clutch my face. one because you were requesting it and two because honestly i adore reading and writing meet cutes but haven't ever written one for this fandom. mostly because that's not what gets requested from me and generally speaking i just haven't had a good itch strike me to do one. but this is my perfect opportunity so i have to honestly thank you from the bottom of my heart for it. also blame that one podcast for this being a cooking class situation.

tw: a break up? a bit of depression related to that? this is tame. it's a meet cute.

austin butler - cooking is my love language

there is a universally acknowledged saying that tells you not to put all of your eggs in one basket. you've been aware of this saying since your mother drilled it into you when you wanted to only apply to one college, when you wanted to only go to a specific summer camp, when you told her you were only ever going to be with one person.

somehow you had forgotten that old saying when it came to learning how to cook. sure, you knew the basics and wouldn't be left completely defenseless but anything more complicated than pasta with canned sauce or simple chicken dishes and you were done for. thankfully you had been dating someone who knew how to cook since the beginning of your college years and beyond. you had actually been dating long enough that the fact that you weren't married to them raised more than a few eyebrows, your own included from time to time. it didn't matter though because you two didn't need to be married to love each other and to want to stay together plenty of couples did that and were fine.

you thought that until the exact moment you were broken up with and found yourself struggling to make a food that had developed into your comfort food since your now ex had made it for you for the very first time. you had no idea how to make it but knew that they had learned it from a cooking class they had taken somewhere downtown. it doesn't take you very long to sign up, something you're thankful for considering the late hour you're trying to do all of this. the class is set for next week which gives you time to- well wallow in your grief. if that meant that you used a bit of sick time to just sit at home and watch cheesy rom-coms and old hollywood movies, well, that was your business because it's not like you bothered anyone doing it. besides, you planned on showering and putting yourself together before you went to the cooking class in general.

putting yourself together isn't exactly the correct word for what you did. you did shower which you felt exceedingly proud about but rather than do anything special to your hair you just kind of let it exist. it was brushed and that was that. you chose something comfortable to wear, an old but not threadbare tee shirt and some sweats, unsure what exactly was going to be going down during the class. it's not like you were trying to impress anyone anywhere, let alone here. why would you need to dress up?

you're early mostly because you figured you were going to get lost and run late so you planned for plenty of getting lost wiggle room only to find that the room had about fifteen signs - you think, you actually lost count around sign number 7- leading everyone to the room. you take a seat in one of the barstools and take a moment to pull out your phone. you know you shouldn't mindlessly scroll through it especially when you need to edit your feeds to not have anything related to "person who will not be named" but you're bored and you've still got at least fifteen minutes before anyone else probably shows up. at least that's what you think before not even five minutes into your scrolling session you hear the door open. it startles you just slightly and has you looking up at the intruder.

he's- well he's familiar but you can't quite place the face. a shame because he seems kind of cute and he's chosen the same comfortable sort of look you have only with jeans instead of the sweats and a hat to cover his face and hair up. you hum slightly to yourself before turning your face back to your phone, figuring your partner in being early would take advantage of the timing and just sit wherever he desired. preferably somewhere not next to you.

your hopes were dashed the second you feel a tap on your shoulder and hear a voice- well it's a deep voice and one you wouldn't peg as coming from the reasonably lanky person standing there- asking you a question.

"you mind me sitting there?" he asks, tilting his hat up just enough for you to see his eyes. he's not quite pouting- though his lips do leave you questioning that assumption- but he does look almost as if you saying no might be the worst thing for him to hear for the rest of his life. you should say no, you're contemplating saying no before you motion for him to sit.

"i don't. wondering why you want to sit next to someone right now but- i don't mind." you shrug as he pulls out the barstool and takes a seat on it, somehow manspreading on a chair you thought would make it impossible.

he purses his lips and bites his lower one almost like he's debating if he wants to answer you and defend his actions. in the end he rubs at his neck and opens his mouth to speak. "i- i spent a lot of time during lockdowns and shutdowns alone. the idea of being next to someone is kind of- overwhelming but thrilling at the same time. i missed it. i really- if this is bothering you-"

"it's not." you say, putting your phone down. "i'm- i think i was just deciding you want to be like me and be a loner in a cooking class."

it's true, that's really why you had even had a slight concern with him sitting there because who really wants to sit next to a stranger doing something like this.

the laugh he lets out sounds warm in a way you haven't really ever heard before. a sunny day captured in a moment in time almost. it makes you smile despite yourself as you listen to him. "normally i would be. i've been painfully shy most of my life. i'm getting better at it but you seemed nice and i've needed an alive human being to talk to that i don't work with."

"you know that makes you sound like a serial killer, right?" you try not to laugh because it's not funny especially if he actually is one but who says something like that to someone they just met. "not accusing you of being one but- i don't even know your name- man, you know how that sounds?"

there's a moment where you think you've overstepped and that austin is going to get up before he rubs his hand across his face and just sighs. "i- i should have. sorry. i'm- my job had me studying someone who's been dead for 45 years. famous so it was a lot of stuff i had to study. still kind of wrapped up in him a little." he pauses. "austin. my is." he takes a breath. "my name is austin. i promise i don't trip over my introduction like that normally."

it's then that you honestly laugh for the first time in what feels like a long time. sure, you had only been single for a week but you don't remember the last time you actually laughed with your significant other. it was strange having someone make you laugh this easily. "y/n." you say between your laughs and you can't help the way you end up biting your lower lip. "i've heard worse introductions. teenage me actually gave worse ones. what do you do for your job?"

austin tenses and you can see his eyes dart around for a moment like he's looking to make sure no one is watching which is mildly confusing up until the point when he takes off his hat and you suddenly realize who you've been talking to. you manage to school your face into something that isn't shock before he answers your question. "actor. i don't know if you've seen it-"

"i have." you blurt out before your brain catches up to you and you clap your hand around your mouth. "i mean. you were good, great, i'd give you an oscar for that performance but i'm not an actor myself or anything." you take a second to breathe and look up at his face. "i'm not obsessed or anything. you were good, austin."

you see his face flush and he has the audacity look bashful before he rubs at his face and bites his lip. "you think so? think i'm actually good enough for an oscar? i mean i know cannes but-"

you stop him and nod your head vigorously. "oh yeah. i know people are talking about brendan fraser and we all love his comeback story but yeah, i could see you winning." you pause. "i listen to the river cafe podcast normally by the way. just so we can clear the air."

austin blinks and looks at you with a pained look. "so you've heard-"

you nod and look down into your lap. "mmhmm. i have heard. you already know how to cook and you’re in a cooking class.” you purse your lips. “why?”

the look of sheer distress and panic that crosses austin's face almost makes you pause, makes you tell him that he does not need to answer your question and it makes you want to put his hat back on his head so you both can pretend he's just austin the mildly attractive guy who can seemingly make you laugh. the second you start to open your mouth he puts his hand up. “i forgot how to make boxed mac and cheese. figured i might need a refresher on the basics.”

your eyes narrow before you raise an eyebrow. “the instructions are on the-”

“box. yeah. i still burnt it.” he finishes, looking suitably moritfied for the sentence he just uttered. knowing fully well you're aware he can cook pizza's in a wood fire oven and salmon on a plank.

“oh wow.” you wince at the idea. "that's- i can understand why now. i'm-" you pause, unsure if you want to tell him why you're here but he's already humbled himself so what's the harm in you doing the same. "my partner broke up with me. they normally did the elaborate cooking so i have to learn how to do some stuff beyond the basics."

austin looks like he's about to say something before more people start shuffling in and he plops the hat back on his head. he does mouth "later" to you and for some reason you find yourself smiling.

the class goes without too much fuss, austin staying hidden from everyone under his hat and you not giving anything away. your instructor has people pair up when cooking and you find yourself glad she does. austin's good even if he forgot how to cook boxed mac and cheese and he helps you stir when your arm gets tired and there's a moment when his fingers brush against yours as he grabs the garlic powder.

he stutters for a moment and holds the garlic powder close to his chest before he shakes his head. "sorry- i think i might have shocked you. you shocked me at least." a pause. "i know the recipe calls for just a bit of this but i made this for- i made this for an ex a while back, it tastes way better with more of it."

you wouldn't call the feeling you had a shock mostly because you don't think there's enough static electricity to cause that between the two of you but you don't correct him. "i'll trust you. you know more than i do."

the next words out of austin's mouth are not ones you expect and from the look on his face they're not ones he expects to say but he doesn't even try and properly stop himself. "don't worry, i'll teach you."

after a moment of mimicking a fish you nod and hum in the affirmative before just staying quiet the rest of the time until it's time to actually try your food. austin was right, it did taste very good with garlic and hum in delight, shoving another helping in your mouth without a single beat. you look up to see austin wearing the biggest grin- wearing a grin that you swear rivals the sun before he takes his own bite. he chews and once he swallows he offers an explanation. "i like knowing people like my food. you heard the podcast-"

"it's your love language." you finish for him enjoying how he blushes and chuckles quietly as he nods his head.

the rest of the meal and the class goes by too quickly for your liking and you find yourself not wanting it to end. not wanting to lose austin's company. you both stay behind for a moment, waiting for everyone else to leave so he can make a subtle getaway when he bumps you subtly with his hip to get your attention.

"i don't normally do this- don't normally give away my number but you- you seem nice and you're cute if you don't mind me saying. i'm not expecting anything in return but if you'd like i could give you lessons. complicated ones while you do these ones." his hand goes up to his face as he rubs at his lower lip. "you can say no."

your answer surprises you but all you can think is that you want to keep talking to austin in whatever way is offered. "yeah. i'll- i'd like that a lot. the lessons and i guess your number."

he smiles and nods a little vigorously before holding out his phone. "okay, cool. just put your number in, i'll shoot you a text."

"you can call too." you say as you put your number in under mac 'n cheese. "if you want."

"how else do you think i'm gonna teach you to cook while i'm filming?" he asked as he took the phone back from you and laughed at the name you chose for yourself. "never gonna let me forget that, are you?"

"never in the slightest mr. butler." you laugh before saving his number in your phone after the text goes through. "but- okay. i- i've got to go, promise i'm not just running away because you reminded me that you're a very busy actor but-"

"i get it." he murmurs stepping a little closer to you. "but you mind if i give- you might if i get a kiss before you go?"

you shake your head, the feeling of your ex a little too raw to contemplate kissing someone else on the lips. "not yet, austin. maybe next time i see you?"

he nods and grabs your hand just for a little squeeze before he turns to leave. "okay. we're gonna try pork chops next week, be prepared, mac 'n cheese."

the nickname delights you enough for you to actually take a moment to give austin a quick peck on the cheek. "will do, white peach."

if the sound of austin's laughter as you turn around and go your separate ways to your separate cars feels you with such joy you don't stop smiling until the next day- well that's your business.

but the fact that you might have replayed it over and over in your head to the point where you weren't that prepared for the pork chops next week? well that was his business and yours.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Artist

Summary: A big job offer promotion leads to an even bigger fight between the reader and Jensen...

Pairing: Jensen x reader

Square: Lovers to Enemies to Lovers

Word Count: 2,000ish

Warnings: language, angst, smidge of fluff

A/N: Written for @supernatural-jackles​​ Tell Me A Story Bingo! I wanted to do something extra angsty!

______

“Honey,” you said when Jensen pushed most of his uneaten dinner into the trash. “Feeling okay?”

“I’m fine,” he snipped. You took the plate and rolled your eyes when your back was turned, Jensen huffing. You shoved it into the dishwasher and spun around, crossing your arms.

“What’s got you in a bad mood?”

“When exactly were you going to tell me you got a job offer in Denver? You didn’t even tell me you applied,” he said. You raised an eyebrow and he narrowed his eyes. “I saw the offer package on your desk in the office.”

“First off, I didn’t apply anywhere. It’s one of the other companies the conglomerate I work for owns in case you forgot. It’s a promotion and the company is based out of Denver. I never said jack shit about moving.”

“Do you have to move?”

“No! I go up for two weeks when I start to get a feel for the team and then drop in for a day every few months. That’s it.”

“Well how the hell are you supposed to do all that when-”

“Excuse me? You who runs the fuck off all around the country, to other countries, to do your job all the time? You want me to just sit in this house or follow you around to your heart’s content?”

“Your job now is completely remote,” he said. You stared at him, blinking a few times.

“Are you seriously mad that I got a promotion?”

“Of course not. But how the hell are you supposed to go to Denver all the time when we’re trying to start a family? What if you get pregnant? What if this new job is way more stressful than your already stressful one? Do you really want to do all that at once?”

“Would you prefer I just sit home and be a stay at home mom and give up on all of my goals? No, you’re right. You’re the one that makes all the money after all. You’ll drop half my salary for the year on a watch and not even think twice. What’s even the point of me working? You’re right Jensen. You’re totally right.”

He clenched his jaw but didn’t speak and that was more than enough for you.

“You honestly want me to stop working, don’t you.”

“You don’t have to and with kids-”

“I’ve been working my ass off at that company for years. I interned there in college. I started as entry level. I’m already a senior level and at my age that’s unheard of there. They want to promote me from that. From-”

“You fucking complain about that job all the time. You’re always working weekends and nights and checking email. You never get away from it! You’re gonna get even more stressed and between both of our schedules, when the fuck will we even see each other? It doesn’t matter if I’m off of work or want to take you to a function or anything. You still have work and that has always come first to you.”

“Don’t you spin that shit on me. My work comes first? Pot calling the kettle black sweetie.”

“Why do you even want that job? You only became an engineer because you wanted to make a lot of money to help out your parents. Guess what? We already paid off their mortgage, their cars, their debts. You were so terrified of living like you had as a kid that you went into the field for the money and that is the only reason why. You don’t even like it.”

“So what if I don’t like it? I’m not sitting around on my ass all day while my husband goes off to make the money. It’s not the fucking fifties anymore, jackass.”

“I didn’t say to sit around all day! There’s plenty of shit you can do and be involved in-”

“I have to pack,” you said.

“Where the hell are you going?”

“My parents,” you snapped, heading up the stairs.

“Your parents live in Washington.”

“I’ll get a flight.”

“No you won’t,” he said.

“Yes I will!” you shouted, spinning around and towering over him on the stairs. “Before I say something I really regret.”

Two Days Later

“Mom,” you sighed when you heard the shed door open. You put down the paintbrush and put your hands on your hips. “I told you I wanted to be alone and paint. Please.”

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you paint.” You spun around, Jensen standing in the pouring rain, his flannel already soaked through.

“You never remember to bring a raincoat up here,” you sighed, spinning back around. You heard the door shut and the sound of water dripping all over the floor, heavy breathing behind you. “Why are you here?”

“Because it’s where you are.” You swallowed, looking over your shoulder at him. Water was running down his hair and face, Jensen’s lips parted. “If I have to stand in this shed freezing my ass off for the rest of my life then that’s what I’ll do.”

You turned around and pushed him out of the wet flannel and shirt, stripping him out of his sneakers and jeans before he was left in just his boxer briefs. You reached over and cranked the space heater up before peeling off your oversized hoodie and holding it out to him.

He tugged it on, stepping beside you next to the space heater, holding out his hands to it.

“How long were you standing out there?” you asked, picking up the brush again.

“A solid ten minutes,” he said. You turned your head and shook it.

“It’s forty five degrees out,” you said, stroking a flash of red on the canvas.

“Your parents said you were angry. Very angry. I wasn’t sure if you were already gone.”

“What makes you think I’m not gone,” you said, filling in another line.

“You’re out here wearing my hoodie. The one I gave you on our first date cause you were cold.”

“Jensen what you said felt like a slap in the face from the man I married. It was like being told you just want me to be a mom and nothing more.”

“I want us to be best friends again,” he said quietly. You set down the paintbrush and leaned back against the workbench, Jensen putting his back to the space heater. “We don’t talk anymore. We don’t play and laugh. A baby won’t fix that. It’ll make things worse. I just want us back.”

“I will admit that I work a lot more than I used to and maybe I’ve slowly become a workaholic but so have you.” He looked down and nodded, rubbing his thigh, goosebumps prickling over the skin. “I should have answered the phone. That’s not how a married couple acts.”

“I let you leave that night. We both screwed up. We had a fight. All that matters is what we do now.”

“You know I’d walk away from everything for you. I will make sacrifices for you always. But you were the one who said when we got together that we’re partners. We’re equals. It doesn’t matter how much money either one of us makes. We’re a team. Us against the problem. Jensen you jumping down my throat like that, angry at me for getting a promotion I hadn’t even accepted or had time to consider yet...it made me really upset. Like I don’t matter and only what you want does.”

“I’m proud of you for getting that promotion. You deserve to finally be recognized for everything you do,” he said. “If you want to take the job, take the job. We’ll find a way to make it work.”

“Jensen, I gave my two week’s notice this morning.” His eyes went wide and you looked down.

“Y/N you don’t have to do that. You absolutely don’t-”

“You’re not the only one who wants their best friend back. I miss you. I miss when it was fun and easy and we both weren’t always working. I don’t know what I want to do but Jensen, I am not sitting at home being just a mom and your wife. I have a life too.”

“I know. I just want it to be a happy one,” he said quietly. He took a step over, stopping in front of you. “All I want is you to do what makes you happy. I might have an idea.”

He looked over at the canvas and back to you.

“That’s not a job.”

“Because you don’t sit in a cubicle and have stupid meetings? Give it a try. If you make money, great. If you don’t, we’re covered. It’s a job. A job you can pick up and put down and do on your own time, no one else's. You don’t have to do it at all. Maybe you take a break for a bit and find out what you do want to do now.” You hummed, Jensen cupping your cheek. “I’m going to cut back too. I don’t have to say yes all the time and I can tell my manager no.”

“Yeah but you could hurt your career if you slow down too much.”

“I’ll still act. But I don’t have to act ten months out of the year. I can do less projects and still be okay. I would walk away from all of it for you too.”

“I’m not asking you to do that.”

“I know you’re not. But you deserve a better best friend and husband than I’ve been lately and I’m gonna be here for that.” You wrapped your arms around him, finding him a little cool, a contrast to his normal toasty self.

“We’re okay,” you said softly. He eased and buried his face in your neck, breathing deeply. “You were concerned about the stress it’d cause me and that was valid. It just didn’t come out the right way.”

“I’m going to sound awful for this but I really would like it better if you didn’t have a normal 9 to 5 job,” he said. “I just think if you had a more flexible job too it’d be easier when things pop up.”

“Honey. I have no desire to do a job I dislike for the rest of my life. And we were able to help out my parents like I always wanted to. It’s just hard to get off the path once you’re already on it.”

“I’m not trying to make it sound like-”

“I know. I’ll find something better that I enjoy. Maybe it’s flexible, maybe it’s not. But it won’t be nights and weekends anymore. Neither of us. Deal?”

“Deal,” he said. He hugged you tight and you squeezed him. “I got nervous for a second there.”

“As much as you can piss me off, I will always love you. You never have to be scared to talk to me. Even if I do act like a child and run halfway across the country.”

“I’ll follow you wherever you go, always.” You were quiet, walking him back over towards the space heater, feeling him warm after a moment. “That’s a beautiful painting.”

“I call it anger,” you chuckled, turning to the side, resting your head on his shoulder, his arm wrapping around your waist. “You honestly think someone would buy this shit?”

“We live in one of the most artistic cities in the country. I think if you put a few pieces up for sale, you’d get buyers. The one you did hanging over the couch? Do you realize how gorgeous that is?” 

“I don’t even remember the last time I painted for you,” you said quietly.

“When’s the last time I did something romantic? We’ll get back there. Give it time,” he said. You leaned up and kissed him, Jensen returning it. “Can I watch you paint?”

“Of course,” you said. You patted your stool and he took a seat. “What would you like me to do?”

“What makes you happy,” he said softly.

“I’ll try my best.”

“That’s all I ask sweetheart.”

_______

[mrwinterr]

Over & Over

Pairing: Pornstar!Bucky Barnes AU x Pornstar!Female Reader

Summary: You’re an up-and-coming adult film star secretly eager to work with the popular Bucky Barnes, and with just the right connections, your paths cross much sooner than later.

Warnings: Adult themes. Smut 18+ (unprotected sex, vaginal penetration and instructional fingering, oral [male & female receiving], size kink, spit & cum play, a smudge of male dominance), dirty talk and language.

Disclaimer: I don’t know how the porn industry works; this was just written for fun.

Title Inspiration: “Over & Over” by Smallpools

A/N: After doping up on strong painkillers wasn’t enough, I thought releasing endorphins would help ease my headache, so once again watching porn inspired another fic. Idk. I’m a mess. Enjoy!

Slipping on your oversized sunglasses, you walk along the rectangular outline of the hotel’s lavish pool, to one of the vacant lounge chairs next to the redheaded goddess, whose wings you were taken under and could gratefully call a close friend. You hadn’t known a single soul when you packed up and moved west to Los Angeles at 18, but you knew you were destined for more than what your humdrum life back at home could offer.

The porn industry wasn’t your first choice at a career in entertainment, but the starving profession wasn’t paying the bills fast enough. You weren’t going to survive in L.A. another year juggling to pay for tuition and stay enrolled in acting school from the income of working menial jobs and booking small gigs. However, one minor role as an extra in a one-night stand sex scene of a TV show, you catch the eye of the multitalented adult film actress Natasha Romanoff.

It was pure coincidence she was also casted, playing a bigger role, of the same episode, but she saw more in you in your less than 15 seconds of fame than most casting agents did before offering you a chance to shadow her. You knew she looked familiar and you were no stranger to watching porn, but when you’re as down on your luck as you were, you went all in and soon enough countless scenes now under your belt within a year, you’re porn’s best female newcomer.

“There’s this year’s Best New Starlet!” Natasha proclaims loudly for almost everyone around to hear.

Lucky for you, the shades conceal the roll of your eyes at her comment as you kick off your flip-flops and remove the thin cover up to reveal your skimpy bikini. You dare look over at her in time to catch her mocking reaction, jaw dropped from your attitude.

“After all I’ve done for you,” she says, placing a hand to her heart, feigning hurt.

The pair of you laugh at your nonsense and after she helps you with applying the appropriate amount of sun care protection, you recline in your seats and attempt to soak up some sun. It was a much-needed break with the long stressful week of the award show now behind everyone. Your hard work had paid off and after all you did learn from the best.

Your predecessor before you, Natasha was also a former Best New Starlet, and now is a household name in pornography. She didn’t welcome a lot of people into her inner circle, but she had plans to one day direct and knew she had to find the next big thing before anyone else to take her place.

“Hello, ladies,” comes from the voice of this year’s Director of the Year and other close friend Wanda Maximoff.

“Hey Wanda,” you greet her by sitting up to give her a proper hug.

You met her through her twin brother, Pietro, who happened to be your first co-star and was very welcoming and caring to you. The twins took care of you during your first few months starting out. Much like Natasha did for you, you help her administer the same amount of sunscreen on her body.

“Congrats on your achievement,” she says wholeheartedly, looking over her shoulder at you as you finish up on her back, and even under the heat of the sun, she could still see the blush creep up on your face.

“She’s a natural, isn’t she?” Natasha comments casually, to which Wanda nods enthusiastically, only speeding up the process of the rose tints on your cheeks to spread all over your face. They were your biggest fans and supporters; you were so happy you could make them proud.

“I owe it all to the queen herself,” you say, downplaying your achievement and turning the attention to your mentor in Natasha. She scoffs at that and teases you about just taking the damn compliment. You put in the work; it was all you.

“Seriously, you deserved it,” Wanda says honestly, and you finally accept the praise.

“So, what’s next for miss Director of the Year?” Natasha asks leaning on a propped elbow, body facing towards you and Wanda.

“Well, I managed to finally book Bucky Barnes in an upcoming project…” she starts out, but the moment you heard his name slip from her lips, the rest almost didn’t matter.

Bucky Barnes was somewhat of a legend. There wasn’t a model or director that didn’t want to work with him. The man was downright gifted in every aspect and his work speaks for itself. Before you broke onto the scene, you’d gotten off to his videos, and only dreamed of one day starring in a scene with him, but you were still new to this world.

As a promising star, you had a long way to go and tons of plots, positions and people to still experience, so landing a role with someone like Bucky Barnes wasn’t entirely written in your plans any time soon. Then again, your first girl-on-girl scene was with your mentor herself, so anything could happen, right?

“I just haven’t found my girl yet,” was the next thing you pick up Wanda say the moment your head comes back from the clouds, “...I have all this momentum now that I want this to blow everyone away, especially Stark.”

Tony Stark was her rival. It was a friendly competition amongst friends. You hadn’t gotten the chance to work for him yet. He was a playful character and had directed some of the best adult films out there, Wanda just happened to be the better of the two this year…

“Sorry, I’m retired,” Natasha reminds her and repositions herself on her back.

“Fuck you,” Wanda says playfully to which Natasha responds with a finger in the air before she clarifies, “I was hinting at this year’s Best New Starlet…” and slyly looking in your directly.

“Me?” You ask incredulously. Your head can’t even start processing that you’re finally getting the opportunity to work with Bucky.

Wanda rolls her eyes at your obliviousness, “no, last year’s Best New Starlet. Hell no! Of course, you!” You respond in the same manner as your mentor, who is more than amused at you also following her lead, and flip Wanda off. Wanda snatches your hand to bring it away from her face, “I’m serious!”

“I-I don’t know, Wan,” a part of you is a little scared that you’re not going to be able to keep up with someone as established and with the star power as Bucky, “...like you said, you have all this momentum behind you. I don’t want to fuck this scene up because I don’t have a lot of experience.”

“Are you fucking kidding?” Natasha pipes up on the other side of you. “This is the perfect role for you!” She sees the questionable look on your face and sighs before explaining. “You’re a fresh face and rising star! People are lining up to book you, Stark included.”

“Nat is right. You’re a hot commodity now! I need someone who is a little inexperienced to mix with someone that is,” Wanda further explains her premise, “let him take the lead, but at your pace. I need it to be raw and passionate. People love that shit!” They were right, he had all the experience, and you were a fresh loveable face. It was the perfect combination.

You remain quiet for several seconds before Natasha rats you out, “and don’t even try to act like you don’t want to work with Barnes. This is your fantasy come to life.” Way to throw you under the bus like that…

There’s no denying your goal to work with him. He’d been in this business much longer than you had, you didn’t think your paths would ever cross on a set, but the opportunity couldn’t have presented itself in a more perfect point in your career.

The room is very pristine. White walls with a king size bed, also adorned in white sheets, fluffy pillows scattered at the top, minimal furniture around to make it look realistic, and the lighting was just right. Wanda had received a hefty budget after her recognition that’s for sure.

“Alright, girly, let’s get you on the bed!” Wanda happily directs.

You nod silently, remove your footwear and plop down on the center of the large mattress. You decide to leave your legs sprawled on one side of your body, settling on a bashful position. It’s not hard for you because although you agreed to do this and have done several scenes, internally, you’re freaking the fuck out. Unbeknownst to you, it’s all part of your charm; the innocence you somehow still radiated was an all too endearing quality and actually sexy.

Even your attire was pretty modest, opting for a more casual look with black leggings and a tight long sleeve that accentuates your figure and shows off the right amount of cleavage. It was something that you could easily wear out in public, which again was a part of your brand in being as natural as possible, but come the right circumstances, when it was time to roll you could turn on the right switch.

“We’ll start off like a typical casting interview before we bring Bucky in and then we’ll go from there. Sounds good?” She runs down the plan with you, fixing a few strands of flyaway hairs on your head before back away from the bed. With a thumbs up and a smile from you, she starts recording.

“Welcome, Best New Starlet of the Year!” Wanda greets from behind the camera.

“Hi,” you politely reply with your signature sweet smile and a wave to the screen.

These scenes start off with a small interview recounting your tale into the porn industry leading up to your recent achievement and even delving a bit into your personal life before the topic changes to your co-star.

“So, how excited are you to work with Bucky today?”

No matter how hard you practiced at keeping a straight poker face, that was something you were unable to master from Natasha, and the blush couldn’t be contained.

Fidgeting at the hem of your top, you open and close your mouth, trying to find the right words. You’re overly flustered at the thought of Bucky and he wasn’t even in front of you yet. You don’t want to sound like a fool and ruin the atmosphere. Wanda mouths words of advice from where she sat in the director’s chair, “be honest.”

“Um, I’m...nervous,” you say truthfully.

“Nervous?” She questions, urging you to elaborate.

“Yeah, he’s Bucky Barnes! He’s hot and he’s got so much experience. I’m kind of scared I’ll be boring,” you finish explaining and hope to God that Natasha doesn’t kill you afterwards, or with that answer let Wanda down, but the smile on her face sends you a wave of assurance.

Maybe you could do this...

Earlier that day, Bucky had already recorded his little opening scene. Wanda had called him to report on set before you were scheduled to arrive.

On the contrary, Bucky was also a tab bit anxious to work with you. He’d seen some of your work and more so heard about your talent from his own best friend, Steve Rogers.

He didn’t deny it, he was very much attracted to you and he wanted a chance to work with you too. Bucky wasn’t a jealous person, which made working in the porn industry easy for him, but when he had to hear Steve recount his scenes with you, he couldn’t help but want to sock his own childhood friend. He didn’t of course, but the rage was evident and his other friend, Sam Wilson, took some sick pleasure in teasing him over it. In fact, the eccentric personality of the trio of friends, decided to tag along with Bucky to introduce himself to you and get under his skin a little more.

“What’s going on in that nasty head of yours?” Sam poked at Bucky as they made their way over to Wanda, who was by the camera setup going over a script with another stagehand. When Bucky doesn’t respond, it provokes Sam even more, “no way, you’re nervous!”

Bucky sighs fed up with dealing with the anxiety brewing ever since he found out he was going to star in this film with you. “Shut the fuck up, will you? Of course, I’m nervous,” he says, trying to remain calm.

“Dude, you’ve slept with some of the hottest people in the world and millions of people have seen you naked. Why is one girl any different?” Sam wonders.

“I don’t know, ok. She just seems so down-to-earth and normal?” Bucky attempts to explain. You were real. His work was just that, it was a work, and he was afraid that it would be different with you. He could say he was almost intimidated by you.

“Yeah, as if I don’t have to hear that enough from Rogers…” Sam chimed in. Steve had nothing but high praise for your performance. In fact, his testimony helped expose you a little further. He was an honorable performer and a respected one, so they took his word on you. “Maybe, I’ll be her next co-star,” and just like that Sam ruined a moment.

“God, I hate you,” was the last thing exchanged between the two friends as they finally reached Wanda. She warned Sam to behave and gave Bucky a quick rundown before instructing him to hop on the bed.

Bucky’s interview starts a little differently than yours. Having already been a more established performer than yourself, no one needed his background story. The only thing Wanda wanted out of him was his plans and opinion on you.

“Well, I don’t know too much about her, personally speaking...but everyone seems to love her,” Bucky’s answer was a bit bland for Wanda.

“She’s a great person to work with,” she comments and that’s a tactic most directors used to get talent to keep talking.

“That’s what Steve keeps saying,” he says with somewhat of an awkward light laugh. He could see Sam facepalming next to Wanda at that lame answer.

“Yeah, you don’t win best female newcomer for nothing,” Wanda points out. If anyone was the lucky one here, it was Bucky. He was climbing up in age and you were the next big thing. You were the real star of this film not Bucky. She was counting more on you to deliver than him.

“That’s right. She’s a very talented performer,” Bucky says, and this small comment opens up a can of worms for Wanda to build up on.

“Oh, so you’ve seen some of her work?” Bam! He was caught.

Bucky’s mouth starts twitching slightly and Wanda and Sam are smirking from their spots as they watch the gears in Bucky’s mind start turning faster trying to think of something. The only piece of advice Wanda gives is “be honest.”

He sighs, the jig was up. Smooth Bucky Barnes was caught red-handed, “yeah, I’ve watched some scenes. I’ve seen her in person a few times too…”

“Wait,” Wanda interrupts him abruptly. She knew you were attracted to Bucky, but never knew of any encounters between you two, “when did you meet her?”

“I haven’t,” Bucky starts, which causes a look of mass confusion on Wanda’s face before he follows up, “formally. I haven’t met her formally, but I’ve seen her at a few parties and at the award show...I was just nervous to walk up to her,” the words just kept flowing out of his mouth and he inwardly cringed at how awkward he might’ve sounded.

Sam was amused by his embarrassment, but Wanda was pleased with this result. Bucky was good at what he did and that included him trying to play it cool, which he did well on screen, sometimes.

“You know she was actually thrilled to find out she would be working with you,” Wanda said, stretching the truth. The truth was, you hadn’t verbally confessed that, at least not yet.

“Really?” Bucky asks all too hopeful, his mood noticeably perking up.

“Yup! Ever since she won Best New Starlet of the Year, people have been lining up to book her, but she chose this project. You were the deal breaker, Barnes,” she fabricated and hoped this all worked out for you two in the end.

“Wow, who would’ve thought this has-been still had it in him?” He jokes at himself. His humility would get the best of him in every situation.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself! You didn’t win Best Male Performer of the Year again for nothing!” Wanda says and then steers the interview to a close.

After wrapping up Bucky’s scene, he’s allowed to stay in another room with a monitor. At first, he thinks it’s to help him prep for the scene, but to his surprise it’s a live feed of your interview and he starts clinging onto your every word. Enthralled by your journey, work ethic and he gets flustered all over again hearing you talk about your equal eagerness to work with him.

“You know, if anyone is the lucky one in this situation, it’s Barnes,” Wanda reminds as your interview comes to an end.

“Right,” you sarcastically remark.

“Are you ready for us to bring Bucky in?” She asks.

“It’s now or never,” you reply. 

You watch the doorknob twist and the door open to slowly reveal Bucky. Where do you even start with him? He just looked like the total package. His gaze immediately on yours. As he makes his way towards the bed you’re still sitting on, when his knee comes in contact to the edge, you maneuver your body in his direction, sit up on your knees to meet him halfway and welcome him in a hug.

“Hi, it’s nice to finally meet you,” he says when you pull apart. The both of you don’t break away completely. Your arms are still wrapped around his neck, his hands placed just above your waist, you can feel his fingers that slipped under the fabric rub your skin.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you respond, giving him a genuine smile and can’t help but stare at his pretty face. You had to remind yourself he’s just another guy, except he wasn’t. You didn’t know how he felt, but you wanted this, wanted him. You also don’t know if you’ll ever work him again after today, so he was going to get the real you.

A small, subtle clearing of someone’s throat shatters the staring contest between you and Bucky causing you both to sheepishly break away from the other, not realizing you’d both allowed dreaded dead airtime to pass by. You scoot over to make room for him next to you on the bed. After he pulls his footwear off, he sits cross legged in front of you, you have one leg tucked in and the other extended in front.

Bucky’s not entirely oblivious. He not only witnessed you backstage reveal you were actually nervous to work with him, he could feel it, so at an attempt to help ease both your nerves, he places a hand on your shin and absentmindedly run his hand up and down the fabric, fingers sometimes stopping to mess with the cuff of your leggings and at the skin of your ankle, while he listened to you speak.

He congratulated you on your achievement as you did with him, both a blushing mess before diving into different topics like traveling and other interests.

Wanda stood proudly behind the camera watching the scene unfold. Everything was so candid and real between you and Bucky, the chemistry was clearly evident, she didn’t foresee there would be much directing on her part today, which was going to make her job easy.

“Wanda said you were excited to work with me,” Bucky teases, wanting to see if what you said was just for the cameras or if it was really true, but also, he found out he liked to see you get all hot and bothered in more than one way.

Your jaw drops and you look directly into the camera, breaking the fourth wall, calling out to Wanda. You playfully chastise and curse at her for revealing your secret. She tells you it was going to come out anyways, and while that was true, you’d hoped it was later and much after you’ve slept with him, hoping it doesn’t ruin the shoot, but Bucky assures you that it’s actually a flattering to hear or in his words, “assuring” for someone like him.

“Are you kidding?” You say, lightly shoving him back, “you’re like a legend! Of course, I was excited! I’m surprised you agreed to work with a rookie like me!” Now that the cat was out of the bag, you might as well own up to your secret.

“Everyone wants to work with you,” he makes clear, leaning in closer. Fuck, he didn’t even need to initiate foreplay because with the way he was looking at you right now, you could come swear you’d come undone for him in an instant.

“Oh really?” You challenge, your body gravitating like a magnet towards his.

“Yup, Steve wouldn’t shut up about you and even Sam said he can’t wait to someday work with you,” he said, voice slowly dropping in decibels and his hands sliding up your thighs.

“Did he?” You ask, but you don’t really care about Sam as your eyes look dead into Bucky’s blue ones, swirling into a darker shade full of deep want and desire.

“Yeah, but let’s see if he still wants to try to outdo me after I’m done with you,” he whispers, finally closing the gap between your lips in a sweet kiss. It was about as sweet as it could last because after just one taste of your lips, he was a starved man, hungry for more. You tried your best to match his pace and the kiss turned sloppy very quick.

You moaned at the pressure of his lips pressed roughly against yours, and you do your best to keep up, but you’re already finding yourself short of breath. However, the more you try to pull back to regain some oxygen, the more he’s unwilling to part as he grasps your face in both hands to keep you still, so you lightly squeeze at his biceps as a warning in hope he gets the message.

Lucky for you, he does and lets up. He’s also noticeably breathless, his warm breath fanning against your kiss-swollen lips, his forehead resting against yours. Bucky’s hands are still on your face.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, and you let out a small chuckle at the sincerity. He was cute.

You take his hands in yours and bring them back down to begin undressing him starting by helping him slip his shirt over his head, the fashionable dog tags around his neck clank as it slaps against his toned chest, you let him keep them on though.

Bucky sits up on his knees as he watches you settle on your stomach, propped up by your elbows, hands getting ready to work on his lower half. He patiently watches as you unbuckle his belt, pop the button of his jeans off, and drag the zipper down.

With his pants hanging loose off his hips, you begin to plant soft kisses along his navel down the defined lines that lead to his cock. Each contact of your lips sends a ghostly tingle and the blood to rush even quicker down his lower region. The imprint of his endowed member doesn’t leave much to your imagination, you can already see the stain where the tip is through his tight boxer briefs. It gives you a little boost of confidence knowing you’d caused this and would get to take care of it.

You hook your fingers into the undergarment and tug them down his muscular thighs. His cock springs out, almost hitting you in the face causing you to jolt back a little and a smile to spread across Bucky’s.

Your clumsiness was also a part of your charm. It wasn’t on purpose, you were still learning after all, and that’s what made it so unique and fun to work with you. Your partners just felt a real, genuine connection, citing it felt less choreographed and of a porno with you.

A little embarrassed about that move, you’d watched what he can do with that cock, but nothing could’ve prepared you for it face-to-face. You don’t waste any time on getting your hands on him and wrap your fingers around his half-hard cock and start pumping him sensually.

He’s hot and soft in your hands before getting gradually heavy. The look in your eyes grows more predatory as you watch him grow and feel him getting harder with each pump causing more and more pre-cum to ooze out. You spread it all over the head of his cock with your thumb then daring to look up at him, hoping he was indeed enjoying your work, before you pucker your lips and kiss at the crown. Bucky curses when he sees your lips shining, coated in his pre-cum, with a string connecting you to his cock.

You gather the fluid up in your hand before spreading it all over his length, when it’s not enough you start not only pumping him faster, but also licking up and down, from the base to the tip, hoping to effectively slick him up. The way your tongue scrapes along over Bucky’s sensitive flesh stirs him up. Your other hand joins in to fondle with his neglected balls, massaging and pulling at them in the right moments, sometimes you travel a little south and take them in your mouth. It all but drives Bucky wild and it’s confirmed with each swear that leaves his mouth.

Bucky wants nothing more than to lodge himself deep in your throat, but he remembers he needs to go at your pace, and once you’re broken in a little more, you could follow his, so he’ll bide his time for now and watch you work.

When you’re ready to take him in, you regain his attention and he watches you slowly take in his inches down your mouth, stopping halfway before your wide-open mouth hollows out. Your full mouth immediately waters around him and it doesn’t take long before you’re a drooling mess all over his cock. You pull back torturously slow, looking back down watching his cock reappear and loving the way it disappears back in, and especially how it feels when it drags through your mouth, taking note of the veins and unique ridges.

“Don’t be like that, doll,” he says, wiping some of the hair away from your face, “come on and show me why they don’t stop talking about you,” he coaxes, now gathering some of your locks in his hand to completely give you both a clear view. He tries his best to not take the lead, but you don’t disappoint as your mouth works faster on him. The gagging and sucking, mixed with Bucky’s moans of pleasure soon become the soundtrack.

You’d gradually take him more and more in, close to deep throating him, and you’re just ready to let up, but he can’t help it and before your last round, he holds your head in place.

“Don’t quit now, baby,” he encourages you, placing his other hand on the back of your head, keeping you still and carefully starts to thrust his hips, urging you to take him all the way, “...that’s it, you can do it, you can take it,” he releases a big sigh feeling the tip of your nose bump his lower abdomen. The moisture builds up in the inner corner of your eyes and you do your best to mind your breathing and not choke.

“Fuck!” He can’t help but shout when he feels your throat contract around him. You just looked so divine, mouth full of his cock. He keeps you there for a few seconds, before releasing his hold, and you immediately pull back, drool dribbles down your chin, and you’re desperate for oxygen to return back into your system. He grabs your face by your chin forcing you to look up at him.

He uses his fingers to scoop up some of the mixed fluids of his arousal and your saliva at your chin before presenting it in front of you. You easily read his mind, look up at him with big, watery eyes, and take his coated digits in your abused mouth sucking the juices clean off him. 

He growls and commends you, “...such a good girl.” When he slips his fingers out of your mouth, a small pop could faintly be heard, he gently yanks at your hair, craning your head back further, it’s almost painful but you don’t care, “do it again,” he demands.

You bite your lip and reposition yourself. Bucky settles in a more comfortable position on his back, completely rid of his pants and underwear, his legs spread open for you to lie between them. Before you get back to the job, you slip your tight top off, all-natural breasts spilling out and on display for him. His cock twitches at the sight and he lets his head fall back when he’s once more fully encased in the warm, wet cavern of your mouth.

When he finally starts begging you to let up, you pull back slowly pumping him and watch his every move, the rise of his chest as it heaves from the activity, the way he runs his hands over his face. He’s absolutely stunned by your performance so far.

“On your back,” he says, and you do as he commands, and forget who is supposed to really be in charge. He yanks your leggings and panties all the way down, chucking them behind him somewhere in the corner of the room.

“You’re so sexy,” he compliments, eyes taking in every inch of your naked body, hands getting their fill. His body dips, lips latching onto your breasts, kissing at the skin and sucking on each nipple before they make their way up the juncture of your neck and claim your lips again.

You feel his tongue run along your bottom lip, and they part to grant him full access. You barely notice how he takes a hold of one of your hands, he pulls his face away to bring the hand in his grasp up to your face, using your fingers to trace the outline of your lips. You see him inaudibly instruct you to open your mouth, you do as you’re told.

“That’s right get those fingers nice and wet,” he coaxes you to suck on your own digits until he deems you ready for the next move. When he finally does pull your fingers out from your mouth, he extends your arm, ghosting them just over your pussy.

“Play with that clit,” he tells you and you don’t need to be told twice. Your pussy was begging for any kind of attention. You let your wet fingers roll over the bundle of nerves, puffs of breath escape your body as you’re finally attending to your own needs.

Bucky sits back and watches you intently, fascinated by your every move. He instructs you to close your eyes and listen to his voice, instructing you to go slow at first, “does that feel good?” the only reply he gets is a fast nod, “yeah? Make yourself feel good...that’s it,” his words only encourage your fingers to soon work faster, “let me hear how good it feels,” he demands, and you moan and whine like the true pornstar you are, your circular motions speed up, the lewd noises egg him on and soon enough he wants a taste.

“Let me help you out,” and you feel the bed shift a bit, “spread those wet lips for me,” he requests. You use both hands to invite him into your wet, glistening hole. You pick your head up to see his face buried between your thighs, you watch just long enough until each broad lick up and down your pussy sends you close to the edge.

He no longer needs the support of your hands, and they find purchase in his dark, fluffy hair as he starts sucking on your clit and tonguing your folds. At first, you’re doing a good job keeping your legs apart to accommodate him, but it gets harder and harder for them to not clamp around his head, with every nudge the tip of his nose makes at your clit and it doesn’t help your case when he inserts a finger inside you. With a good curl, his finger scratches dangerously close to your sweet spot, causing your legs to start quivering.

The sudden hitch in your breathing catches his attention, and Bucky tests the waters more by digging in deeper and curling in further. He notices the increasing agitation and knows he’s found the trigger.

“Bucky,” you whine, hoping he doesn’t push you over just yet. You want to last longer, and so you reluctantly attempt to scoot back further away, but the sudden strong grip  he has around your leg locks you in place. You pick your head back up and find Bucky’s eyes trained on you. You see the stoic look in his eyes laced with determination. Oh no, he wanted you to come now. You feel a hum from his full mouth, only pushing you further.  

“Don’t hold back,” he says against your pussy, “let go,” and the gruff in his voice, vibrating against you, his thick digits still curled deep inside you, you can’t hold back the floodgates from bursting any longer.

He laps up your arousal as you desperately try to regain composure. He really pulled one out of you, proving he was as every bit good as he put out and you’re not even close to the end of this scene.  

“Come here,” he says, getting back on his knees and pulling you up by your arms so you’re in an up-right sitting position once again, but with Bucky still towering over you, “open up.”

You comply and open your mouth wide, tongue out, not understanding his motive, and you’re met with full surprise when he spits in your mouth, a firm grip on your face, he holds you still.

“Don’t swallow,” he gravely warns. You feel and probably look stupid not knowing what he wants you to do with your mouth open wide and full of his spit mingling with your arousal, just trying to keep it all contained. Bucky was testing your patience and obedience and you passed every test so far. You were just the right amount of submissive, absolutely perfect.

You can feel his hard cock pressing up against your sensitive pussy, it slides up between your folds and the base rests on top of your mound. “Drool it out...on my cock,” he instructs. Oh. He guides your gaze down between your bodies, you purse your lips, and both watch as the liquid cascades down onto his erect member. He uses it to lube himself up before he pushes you down to lie flat on your back.

Bucky slowly but easily slips inside your wet channel but notices your slight struggle. He was big, and he gets it. The way your eyes are tightly shut, hands pulling at the sheets, you struggle to breath and your walls cruelly grip him tight. Normally, he’d just pound away until his partner got used to him, but he didn’t want to do that with you. He wanted you to enjoy feeling him.

He tries to help you relax by rubbing your thighs a little with soothing motions, when they fall limp on either side, he leans down, you feel the cool metal of his dog tags against your heated skin, his weight sort of comforting on yours, and arms entrapping your head. He lovingly calls out your name, and your eyes flutter open, your attention refocusing on him.

“We’ll go at your pace, alright?” he assures you. You curse yourself for allowing your heart to swell at his concern, but you nod giving him permission to move slowly. Your whimpers soon transition into pleasurable moans, the more your body begins to adjust to his.

“Damn, you’re so tight. You’ve never been stretched out like this by anyone before have you?” he dares ask, once he sees it’s a safe playing field once more, his hips moving slow, his cock sliding in and out of you. You attempt at a laugh between your ragged breathing and the intense sensation coursing through you.

“No,” you respond and kiss at his chin, the light stubble pricking your soft lips, “you’re so big.” You feel his cock twitch inside and you want to curse yourself again at the comment that unintentionally riles him up because he was nestled close to your spot again. Fuck, he could reach just the right depth in you.

“Fuck, Bucky,” you don’t want to go slow anymore. Fuck Wanda and this movie, you wanted all of Bucky now, “please fuck me,” you resort to begging. He inwardly growls and his hips start snapping forward, thrusts growing hard and uncalculated. You just lie there and allow him to use your pussy for his pleasure.

Bucky’s movements falter a bit in this position, so he steers both your bodies on their sides, still facing each other, he slings your leg high up over his hips, and resumes his task. His cock glides right back in your pussy and the new angle causes you to yelp and walls to clench around him.

“You feel so good,” his voice riddled with so much lust as he brings your body closer to his with a hand behind, full of your plushest asset. Your head rests on the bicep of his other arm that was underneath it.

Bucky’s expressive eyes ask you if you're close, and the more your walls continue to grip him, he starts begging for you to come with him. “I’m gonna cum,” he warns, giving up and letting you take the rest of the lead.

“Yeah?” you huff out, your fingers digging into the side of his hips, “you want to cum inside me?” You know he does; you can feel and see it written all over him, but you want to just poke at him like he had with you, “I want you to...I want all your cum inside me, Bucky,” and you wanted him to cum hard, deep inside, “fill my tight pussy up, please,” you plead.

With one more jab of his hips, your back arches and head is thrown back, you can’t help but let out a scream as your orgasm rips right through you like it’s never before. Bucky’s body on the other hand caves into yours, feeling almost paralyzed as your tight walls hold him in place and all he can do is bury his face into the sweaty skin of your neck.

His mouth hangs open, a plethora of profanities coming out of him, and he waits for his cock to finish spewing ropes of his hot, thick cum into you. Your walls can’t help but to involuntarily contract in small aftershocks, especially when he’s still coming.

Bucky continues to moan as he does as you hoped, he came hard and deep inside you. When you’ve both finally come down from the high, it’s silent, and even though you’d both long forgotten you were on a set with multiple people watching you two, they were also quiet, completely taken back by the performance.

Incoherent cries come out of each of you, when Bucky agonizingly pulls his cock out. For the most part you’re able to keep him inside, but he’d proven to come so much some of it seeps out and runs down in streak fashion along your thigh, staining the bed sheets.

In your last act, as your gazes meet each other again, your fingers dip inside your soaked cunt and coat them. Hypnotized by you, Bucky watches as you greedily suck off his essence from your digits, and you evoke a small hum in his favor at the taste bursting in your mouth.  

Bucky bites at his bottom lip, trying to not lose it again. When your hand disappears, he tenderly wipes the matted hair away from your face, smoothing your hair back before pulling your body close again, swooping your lips for a deep kiss.

“Shit, you’re good,” he admits, when he pulls away, effectively breaking the blissful silence. You bust out in a fit of giggles beside him and it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen. He’s not sure what he’s feeling, but it’s not something you’re supposed to feel towards your co-star, especially in the porn industry.    

He smiles at you, basking in your afterglow and all he knows is that he wants to feel this high with you over and over, so he decides to risk it all, “I hope this doesn’t ruin the moment, but can I take you out some time?”

You try your best to read him, wondering if he was just still in the heat of the moment. Either he’s really good or he’s being sincere, you can’t tell and you’re hoping you’re not overthinking it, but his eyes, this whole time, were what gave him away. He performed with them and he definitely spoke through them.

Before you could accept and give him a definite answer, you’re both brought back to reality, “we’re still rolling here!” Wanda reminds.

A/N: Thank the pain meds for this. I think I effectively used up my vacation days the right way, won’t you agree? Likes, reblogs and comments/emojis are appreciated! 

[pushpinsheep]

Hopefully this puts things in greater perspective because some tourists just don’t get it and need to hear this. For those who are curious and looking to travel in the future I hope you find this is informative! :) We could all use more perspective on linguistics and traveling imho. I have made some of these mistakes in the past too. We can all learn to be better guests/tourists. This mindset people have that not only is it okay for tourists to exploit and mistreat local populations, but it’s something that should be encouraged is wrong. You’re not entitled to anything special as a tourist just because you have enough money to play around somewhere “exotic” for a few weeks. Regardless of where people travel to. As a guest in someone else’s home you should put more effort into not being a total asshat. You will have a better time and you might learn something cool along the way. I will mostly be using France as an example since I live here and have more insight, but everything I say applies outside of France as well. Note: This information only applies to tourists. Immigrants and refugees are a unique situation and thus face different challenges and have different needs. A tourist chooses where to go and has time (and money) to plan for their trip, which is often only a few weeks or days. Immigrants and refugees often don’t have that same luxury and remain in the country for far longer. (in many cases permanently) Moving to a country places a greater linguistic and cultural demand on an individual. Remember to check your privilege. tourism =/= immigration/asylum. A) English is not the only language in existence. It might be a widely spoken language, but it’s not the most widely spoken language (that honor goes to Chinese) nor is it the only lingua franca. Chinese, Hindu, Spanish, French, and Arabic are all widely spoken across multiple borders and where you are on the planet will obviously dictate which one of these people go with. If you expect that to be English because your sphere of the internet happens to put you in that bubble of “my language or bust” ignorance then like... that’s on you pal. Get with the times and stop assuming everyone should just speak English. English speakers are not the only tourists and English, though widely used, is not the only other language a person might need. I have a friend from Laos who speaks absolutely no English. He doesn’t need it and never has. (even now) He speaks Lao (the regional dialects can be as different as Thai is from Laotian btw), Chinese, a bit of Thai, and French because they still use a lot of French for business dealings there. (something I didn’t know ngl) Assuming he should just speak English because “everyone else does” is ignorant. It’s rude. It puts no thought into his situation. It’s entitled. He’s traveled to visit friends in England and he has an English phrase book. He doesn’t need a lot of English so like... the phrase book is absolutely perfect. Most of what he does in England is sight see and speak Chinese with his friends. Be more like my friend from Laos. B) Official languages may not be the only language a country speaks within its borders. Regional and native languages exist and expecting the locals to speak a 3rd language on top of all that is unbelievably entitled. France has a number of them. There are people who are born and raised in France who don’t speak French in their day to day life. (or at all) Basque, Breton, Occitan, Alsatian, Yiddish, Ladino, Arabic and a number of others are all spoken within French borders. Many are at risk of being permanently lost (that’s why our new regional language law is important btw) and as a result a greater emphasis is placed on preserving them as opposed to learning something new. Most people have to learn the official language as it’s the only language a lot of countries will accept for paperwork, but anything else is up to the individual and you can suck an egg if you don’t like that. (this also applies to immigrants and refugees btw) Heck there are places in the US where people don’t even speak English day to day! Some places actually speak French or Spanish. I heard more Spanish in my day to day life than I did English where I grew up in NC! (moved to Florida and Spanish exploded. loved it!) C) Borders are a thing. People working and living across borders exist and English is often not the language they chose to go with as a result. France borders Germany, Spain, Italy, Belgium, England, and Switzerland. People who share these borders often choose to go with these languages. English is in there, but please note it’s not the only one. D) Culturally speaking a country may not like [insert common language here] and as a result may refuse to speak it. That’s entirely their choice. If you don’t like that then don’t visit the country. It’s really that easy.  Colonialism is often a major factor at play in these situations. Respect that choice. You do not get a say in how people reclaim their identity. As for France? This might come as a shock to some people, but France doesn’t like England. I’m 100% certain these two places exist solely to punch each other in the nuts. (ball tap. an international past time) As a result getting English people to speak French or French people to speak English is about as easy as pulling your own teeth. I’ve been spit on for speaking English because people here just assume I’m from England or they hate “annoying Americans” and after seeing how y’all responded to the last post I made... yeah I totally get it now. Granted, that’s no excuse for someone being hostile, but it is something to keep in mind when you visit and applies to more than just France too. E) Retail workers and small shop owners don’t owe you shit. You have absolutely no right waltzing into a shop and demanding the staff speak your language (I don’t care how common it is) for the two weeks you’ve decided to play around in their home. Always ask them first. If they can’t or choose not to then tough luck. This is why a phrase book is important!

Retail workers and small shop owners get treated like shit enough. Some of y’all have never worked retail a day in your life and WOW does it show. Please respect retail workers and small shop owners. You don’t know what their day or life has been like. If they’re tired and don’t want to speak to you in a foreign language then that’s their right. I have had no issues using my phone or a phrase book to help communicate concepts when there is a language barrier. (and I fucking live in France. I’m not even visiting) Emergencies also happen and a phrase book or medical card in the native and/or official language is absolutely essential! Even if you just have an allergy to something! This is a great way to stay safe! When you visit another country being aware of and researching cultural differences includes linguistic differences. Tourists are guests. You don’t live here, you don’t get a say. Remember, learning a second language (esp if you don’t use it often) is really hard. If you’re visiting a country do not expect them to just use whatever language you speak. Mind you a phrase book is also important because people within a country may not have a strong grasp on English even if they do speak it. You can very easily get lost or injured without a phrase book to help you. These things allow you to better experience a country and communicate without actually having to learn the entire language... or any of it. And, once again, they exist for free online! You do not need to learn an entire language to visit somewhere, but you need to be prepared for there to be a barrier. People assuming I mean you need to learn a whole language are uh... really something else. Like do you guys think half the people bending over backwards to communicate with you know the full language? Go ahead. Fuck around and find out. ;) Obviously I’m not saying you should be treated poorly when visiting if you don’t know the language. Unfortunately no matter how much effort you put in there will always be someone who’s a jerk and I’m sorry for that. All I’m saying is as a tourist you owe it to yourself and others to be better prepared. Trust me. You’ll have a better time in the end. (and if you did the research you’d find that Paris is not the best first place to visit... even if you’re french lol) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GS64ZT4eWUA Please watch this guy’s video. It is hilarious and touches on a lot of the same points I just made. Thank you for your time. :) ---------------- Cultural tidbit for those who are curious about where I live in France: I live in Alsace currently! (moved from Lyon, but my spouse is from here) In Alsace you might meet people who speak English, but it’s also entirely likely you won’t! Alsace is also a very tourist heavy area because it looks like a German fairy tale and has a lot of tiny villages with cool stuff to do! I highly recommend visiting here over Paris! We have so many storks! (clackclackclack)

Our logo is a pretzel!

That being said, Alsace has its own regional language!

It’s not uncommon to see bilingual signage or to pass someone on the street and hear them speaking Alsatian. You’ll usually hear it from older people, children, or those from rural areas. It’s really fun to listen to and absolutely wild to see written on museum signs!  Kids here will start school learning French, regardless of what they speak at home, which has resulted in a downswing of Alsatian speakers in recent years. That’s why the new regional language law I mentioned waaaaaay above is so important. It’ll allow schools to teach most of the day in Alsatian instead of French with the goal being fully bilingual adults! :) As of right now, most kids here choose German or English (depending on the school) as their second language. Some kids pick Alsatian and honestly? Good for them! I’m glad!

[astrabear]

unofficial poll time

You are reading fanfic. The source property is set in the present day. The fic, maybe because it’s an AU or the canon just works that way, is set in a noticeably different historical period. Which of these answers most accurately reflects your feelings? (choose all that apply)

A. I like it when the writing style (both dialogue and narration) is period-appropriate, or at least a general approximation thereof.

B. I like the dialogue to be period-appropriate, but it’s fine (or even preferred) for the narration to feel more modern.

C. I don’t care either way, as long as there aren’t glaring anachronisms.

D. I prefer that both the dialogue and narration are similar to what I’m used to reading and seeing. So not modern slang or anything like that, but I don’t want it to be jarringly different.

E. I like it when the characters speak the way I’m used to them speaking, even if it’s not period-appropriate.

F. I simply don’t read fics set in past eras.

G. The only thing that matters is that it’s well written.

H. English is not my first language, so old-fashioned phrasing and vocabulary is more difficult for me to read.

I. I actively dislike attempts at period language unless the writer has done enough research to do it correctly.

J. I honestly couldn’t tell you in advance what kinds of things are likely to throw me out of the story, I just know that there’s a potential for it to happen.

K. I read fic because I like the characters and tropes. I don’t pay attention to writing style.

L. Other (in tags)

Please share and answer in the tags. This is very relevant to something I’m working on and I’d like to get some outside perspective.

[arvinsescape]

Meet mum.

A/N: I do not think Nikki would be like this. Written for entertainment purposes only. As always hope you enjoy! I only changed the setting of the request.

Based on this request:  Hey I was wondering if You could do a Tom imagine where he brings the reader home to meet his parents and brothers but his mum don’t like her and judges her but Tom gets angry and sticks up for her ect.

Warnings: Language.

W/C: 2.5K. Wow how’d this get so long?

To say you were nervous too meet Tom’s family was an understatement. The only member of his family that you had officially met was his brother Harry, who you got on with really well. You were going to a restaurant in town, completely Tom’s idea, he was adamant that it was time you met the rest of his family and you were excited but also nervous.

You finished up getting ready and made your way downstairs were Tom and Harry were waiting.

“Sorry, I just needed to finish my hair off. It wasn’t cooperating.” You said as Tom grabbed his keys, wallet and jacket. He moved towards, placing a swift kiss to your cheek.

“That’s alright darling, we’ve got loads of time. You look beautiful by the way.”

“You look so nervous Y/N! Lighten up, my family are amazing, I’d say you’ve met the worst of us when you met Tom.” Harry laughed as he took in your tense posture.

“Oi! Don’t start already, you only get worse when Sam is with you.” Tom laughed as he gave Harry a light slap to the back of the head. “He’s right though love, they’re lovely, they’ll love you.” Tom reassured you with a smile as he grabbed your hand and you all made your way to the car.

**

The drive to the restaurant was quite relaxed, making your nerves die down slightly and you mostly had Harry to thank for that. He was consistently making jokes in order to settle your nerves. As you pulled up you realised that you were the first ones to arrive, having not spotted anyone else’s car. You made your way in, taking your seats at the large table, looking at all the empty seats, reminded you just how big Tom’s family was, and the nerves came back quicker than they’d settled.

“Sorry I’m late! Didn’t finish work on time!” A voice pulled you from your thoughts. You looked at the male as he approached the table, this was Harry’s twin Sam, that much was obvious. “You must be Y/N! I’ve heard a ridiculous amount about you.” Sam teased as he pulled you into a hug. “Sam, the better twin and superior brother.” He joked as he punched Tom’s arm before hugging him too. Okay maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

“This is going to be a long dinner then?” Tom groaned as he watched the twins greet each other. You engaged in small conversation as you waited for his parents and final brother to arrive. It wasn’t too long after that they did. Paddy making his way over first.

“Hey guys!” Paddy said as he approached the table, taking a seat next to Sam.

“You won’t get a hug from him Y/N. He’s a typical teenage boy, I’m sure stuff like this has inconvenienced his night somehow.” Harry laughed as he watched Paddy pull his phone from his pocket.

“Shut up Harry! You were a teenager once you know. Hi Y/N, it’s nice to finally meet you.” Paddy said as he offered you a small smile.

“Where’s mum and dad?” Tom asked as he furrowed his brows.

“Dad was parking the car and mum went straight to the loo, they won’t be long.” Paddy answered, more interested in his phone than the conversation. You laughed at his typical teenage response to social events, reminding you of how you were at that age. Just after he’d said it you watched another man arrive at the table, presumably Tom’s dad.

“Y/N, this is my dad Dom. Dad this is Y/N” Tom said as he got up to hug his dad. You stood up as well extending your hand for him to shake unsure of what he would have expected as a first response, a hug would be too much maybe?

“It’s nice too meet you.” You said shyly. Dom laughed as he pulled you into a hug, startling you at first.

“We’re huggers if you hadn’t already gathered. Well, everyone except Paddy, he needs a couple years.” Dom laughed as he let go of you and took his seat next to Paddy. Tom grabbed your hand under the table, giving it a small squeeze to reassure you that this was going well.

“Paddy how many times do I have to tell you, it’s rude to be on your phone at the table.” A woman’s voice suddenly interrupted the light conversation. You looked up at Tom’s mum, she was beautiful. Paddy groaned before shoving his phone back into his pocket. “Hi Tom.” His mum said as she hugged him, she eyed you up and down, before mumbling a quick ‘hi’ and sitting down in the final seat. Your nerves were back, had you done something to offend her?

Tom cleared his throat awkwardly before engaging in conversation with Sam. Harry leant over towards you. “Ignore her, she can be like that sometimes, she’ll snap out of it.” Harry whispered as he gave you a reassuring smile.

You all ordered after five minutes and light chatter, started out amongst the table. As the starters were served, Dom switched the attention to you, which in hindsight, you really wish he hadn’t.

“So, Y/N? What do you do for work? Tom’s told us a lot about you but at the same time not all that much.” He laughed.

“Yeah it’s cause he’s always talking about how pretty she is.” Paddy mumbled as he stuffed his fork into his mouth, Tom’s cheeks burned red as he mumbled a ‘fuck off’ in his brothers’ direction. Paddy laughed at him before adding. “Not that he’s wrong! I didn’t mean that in a bad way, it’s just all he usually talks about when you come up in conversation.” Paddy stumbled over his words as he thought he may have caused offence, you laughed, again being reminded of when you were an awkward teenager and thinking anything you said would be taken as offence.

“I’m a book editor. I’m hoping to move into script editing because I think that’d be more fun but for now, I’m with the books.” You answered confidently as you smiled at Dom. Your smile faltered as you heard a scoff come from Nikki’s direction. Tom eyed her carefully before he cleared his throat and spoke up.

“Yeah, it’s great. She gets to travel with me a lot because she doesn’t have to go into a workplace to do her job.” Tom said as he finished his starter. Shortly after they were cleared. Tom took your hand again under the table, interlocking your fingers.

“That’s great! How long have you been doing that?” Dom asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“About three years, I graduated at 21 and got straight into it.”

“Ah, so you’re the same age as Tom then?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, he’s a couple months older than me.”

“So how did you meet? Like I say Tom has told us a lot about you but at the same time nothing at all.”

“We met in a pub actually.” You laughed as you recalled the memory. “I wasn’t sure Tom would remember talking to me let alone remember he’d taken my number. He was really drunk.” You teased as Tom went red again. Everyone laughed except for Nikki, who eyed you in a way that made you feel quite small all of a sudden.

“So, did you know who he was then? When you gave him your number?” She asked in an accusatory tone.

“I mean yeah, I’ve seen all the marvel films, so I did know who he was, but that didn’t really matter to me. I liked Tom for Tom.” You answered carefully.

“I’m sure you did.” She said as she gave you a sarcastic smile before sipping her drink.

“Mum.” Tom groaned before squeezing your hand that was still in his.

“What? I’m just making small talk.” She answered as Sam and Harry rolled their eyes. Paddy shifted awkwardly in his seat as he watched the conversation unfold. Luckily the main course arrived to settle the tension.

“So are you hoping to get into script editing through Tom’s career.” Nikki asked. Dom choked on his drink out of shock as you dropped your fork back onto your plate. The question completely taking you off guard. Tom’s hand found your thigh as you saw him tense next to you.

“You don’t have to answer that Y/N.” Sam said as he smiled at you.

“No, it’s okay. That’s not how I’m hoping to get into script editing. I’ve been applying for different companies for a while now, before I met Tom actually, I just haven’t had any luck.” You answered as your eyes met hers.

“But surely you would have hoped Tom’s career would help if you haven’t had luck.” She sneered.

“Nikki.” Dom hissed.

“No that’s not it at all.” You answered, slightly offended. You knew what she was implying but it wasn’t true. You could make your own way in the world.

“We’ll see.” Nikki said as she continued to eat. The atmosphere around the table had shifted dramatically it was incredibly awkward now.

After you had finished your mains, things hadn’t got much better. Everyone was engaging in small talk, but no one dared shift the attention back towards you. Well, for a while anyway.

“That’s a nice necklace.” Nikki suddenly said out of nowhere. You clutched the necklace that was around your neck, it suddenly felt very heavy around your neck.

“It’s from-“

“Tom? Yeah I’d have guessed. Is it real gold?”

“Yeah but-“

“Of course it is.” She sneered as she rolled her eyes at you. You suddenly felt like this wasn’t going anywhere and you felt the tears brewing in your eyes. You excused yourself from the table, finding your way into the bathroom.

**

“What the fuck was that?” Tom asked his mum as his nostrils flared.

“Don’t swear Tom.” Nikki replied. Paddy was eyeing the exit at this point. He knew it wasn’t going to end well.

“Okay, sorry for my language. My question still wants an answer. What. Was. That?” He asked through gritted teeth. He’d never in his entire life felt so angry with his mum. He looked at his dad who just offered him a small smile.

“I don’t know what you mean. I was just making conversation.”

“No, you weren’t. You were being rude. Why?”

“I’m just making sure she’s good enough for you.” Nikki answered her son, honestly.

“By making her look like a money grabbing, opportunity seeking bitch?” Tom fired back. Trying to keep his anger under control. He didn’t want to cause a scene in the middle of a restaurant. Nikki just shrugged and he felt some of his anger spill over.

“That’s not fair mum! I pursued her! She hasn’t once asked me to help her further her career, in fact she’s very careful to try and keep herself distant from what I do and what she wants to do. That necklace you felt the need to point out, came from her grandma, it was left to her after her grandma passed away. Something her granddad bought for her grandma. But of course, you’d have known that had you let her speak. I am so beyond angry with you right now, mum. You had no right to speak to her like that, you don’t know her, I do. I’m also a little offended that you take me for someone who can fooled. I get it you want to protect your kids, but you can’t treat people like that. You need to give her another chance, because I love her, and your little show tonight won’t change that.” Tom felt some of his anger dissipating. His brothers and dad looked at him, almost as if they were proud?

Nikki’s expression dropped at her son’s words. She suddenly felt immensely guilty. Tom was right, she’d taken it too far and judged the poor girl without giving her a chance.

“I’m sorry Tom.” Nikki said sincerely trying to meet her son’s eyes.

“Not me you should be apologising to.” Tom crossed his arms as he refused to meet his mum’s gaze.

“Your right.” Nikki swallowed as she got up from her seat.

“I swear if you’re on your way to upset her again, I’m going home.” Tom called after his mum as she made her way into the bathroom. He sighed as he looked at his dad.

“I know your angry son and I know she had no right. But forgive her yeah? She had your best interests at heart even if she went about that the wrong way.” Dom said as he offered his son a reassuring smile.

“I know. It just upset me that she treated her like that.”

**

You’d managed to stop the tears and you were splashing your face with cold water trying to get rid of the redness in your face. Would Tom believe you if you said you weren’t feeling well and let you go home? No, then you’d be taking him away from his family. You were pulled from your thoughts as another person joined you in the bathroom. You didn’t look at them, didn’t want to draw attention to your tear stained face.

“Y/N? I’m sorry.” You heard you were shocked as you turned around to see Nikki. You didn’t say anything, not wanting to upset her further.

“I mean it. I’m sorry. I just get so protective of him you know. He has had girlfriends like that in the past and I’m just scared someone will take advantage of him again. I know I shouldn’t treat him like he’s naive, but I can’t help it sometimes. I’m truly sorry for the way I have treated you tonight. It was unfair of me to judge you when I don’t know you.” She said as she smiled at you. You sighed as you took in her words.

“Look, I get it. I get that you want to protect him but I’m not like that I swear. I really do love Tom for Tom. I’d love him whatever he did for a living.” You said sincerely. Nikki smiled as she pulled you into a hug. You hugged back.

“Okay, let’s get you cleaned up. Let’s start again?” She asked you hopefully.

“I’d like that.” You mumbled as she helped you fix your appearance. You made your way back to the table Tom, instantly standing and pulling you into a hug.

“Are you okay? Did she upset you again?” Tom whispered protectively into your ear. “Tell me if she has, we’ll go if that’s what you want.”

“It’s okay Tom. She apologised. We’re going to start again. I get were she was coming from in a way.” You whispered back as he squeezed you tighter.

“Doesn’t make it right.” He mumbled and you hummed in agreement before whispering “let it go, okay,” kissing his cheek before you both sat back down. He didn’t let go of your hand all night. The rest of night went by without any more awkwardness, in fact when you left, you’d argue that you and Nikki had gotten quite close. Tom let his anger towards his mum disappear over the course of the night and when you all left to go home you made plans to do the same again next week and everyone left far happier and content than when they’d arrived.

[yelena-bellova]

Safe Haven: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader - Chapter Three

chapter two - Chapter Three: Ceasefire - chapter four

Series Masterlist

Plot: Bucky, Sam and Y/n visit Baltimore and unearth a long kept, heartbreaking secret. Bucky and Y/n’s tension comes to a head when they meet with Dr. Raynor.

Word Count: 7.3k

Warnings: spoilers for episode. 2, angst, language, racial undertones, racial profiling, PTSD, mention of torture, mention of suicide, fluffy angst, Walker is an asshole and Y/n is a bad bitch, the start of the slow burn 🔥

A/N: This shit was heavy to write because of the subject matter so hopefully the fluff towards the end makes up for all the angst I’m about to put you through lol. Honestly, it’s so hard to write this series not having the ending of the show yet 😂 Like I’m trying to build this and I know where I need it to go but it all depends on the show. This week’s episode was 👀 and I’m already drafting in my head. Anyways, enjoy!

----

Military craft bathrooms, I had found out, were not an ideal place to apply makeup.

I had woken up in the early morning hours stiff, achy and with a deep purple bruise on my cheek. I’d done my best to conceal it as to not attract attention wherever Bucky was taking us, but I wasn’t a magician.

Sam and I had yet to speak about me going home, but the tense exchange we’d shared before I passed out still hung over us. It wasn’t like we’d never fought, but the reasoning had never been over one of our lives being endangered. I didn’t want to leave him, but it was futile to argue the point.

The neighborhood that we were passing through didn’t look all that different from New Orleans. Bucky still had yet to tell us who we were here to see, only that it was important that Sam met him. I was done asking questions and trailed behind them on the sidewalk, my hands shoved in my jacket pockets and my head hung in defeat. I’d tried to do the superhero thing and failed miserably.

“Hey, it’s Black Falcon! What’s up?” “It’s just Falcon, kid,” Sam replied to the boy sat in front of a chain-linked fence with his friend.

“No, no, my daddy told me it’s Black Falcon,” the kid insisted. 

Sam stopped in front of them, “Is it because I’m black and I’m the Falcon?” “Well, technically, I mean, yes,” he shrugged. “So are you, like, Black Kid?” The kid’s friend burst into laughter and Sam did the same, “I got him, right?”

“Whatever, man…” the kid sat down, I was just about to pass him when he stopped me, “Are you a superhero too?” Sam stopped and looked back at me, his lips pressed in a thin frown. His eyes were sympathetic but I wasn’t in any mood to discuss my unsuccessful attempt to enter his world. I gave a sad smile to the kid, “No, I’m not.” I patted his shoulder and left, Sam chose to walk with me instead of ahead of me.

Bucky was already on the house’s front porch when we climbed the stairs, he banged on the door marked with a ‘No Trespassing’ sign. We waited a few seconds before it opened to reveal a boy, 16 or 17 maybe.

“We’re here to see Isaiah,” Bucky said. “Nobody named Isaiah live here,” the teen replied.

“Look, we just want to talk to him,” Bucky gently pushed.

“You must not hear what I just said, you ain’t getting in this house. Ya’ll can leave now.” Bucky dropped his head and shut his eyes, looking as if what he was about to say pained him. “Tell him the guy from the bar in Goyang is here,” his voice dropped, “He’s gonna know what that means.”

The boy’s eyes bounced between the three of us before backing away from the door, “All right, wait here.” “Nice kid,” Sam commented once he was gone, “How do you know this guy?” “I used to, we had a skirmish during the Korean War,” Bucky explained. The screened door opened once again to reveal the teen, “Today’s your lucky day. He said he wanna see for himself.”

Bucky led the way inside followed by Sam and I. Where the living room met the dining room was where a tall, grey haired black man stood. “Isaiah,” Bucky greeted him as we stepped inside. “Look at you,” Isaiah said, taking cautious steps toward Bucky. “This is, uh, Sam. Sam, this is Isaiah,” Bucky raised his hand toward the man, “He was a hero. One of the ones that HYDRA feared the most, like Steve. We met in ’51.”

“If by met, you mean I whupped your ass, then, yeah,” Isaiah interrupted to correct Bucky’s inaccurate storytelling. “We heard whispers he was on the peninsula, but everyone they sent after him, never came back. So the U.S. military dropped me behind the line to go deal with him,” he spat the last part of the sentence. “I took half that metal arm in that fight in Goyang, but I see he’s managed to grow it back. I just wanted to see if he got the arm back or if he’d come to kill me.” I watched over Sam’s shoulder as Bucky shook his head. “I’m not a killer anymore,” his voice hitched slightly.

“You think you can wake up one day and decide who you wanna be? It doesn’t work like that,” Isaiah’s voice hardened, “Well, maybe it does for folks like you.” There was a pause as Bucky collected himself before we got to the heart of the matter, “Isaiah, the reason we’re here is because there’s more of you and me out there.” 

“You and me…” Isaiah seethed, his eyes boring into Bucky.

“And we need to know how…” “I’m not gonna talk about it anymore,” Isaiah growled before picking up a metal tin and flinging it across the room. Sam threw an arm out to shield me but the tin lodged itself in the wooden paneling of the walls. With that power at his age, Isaiah was undoubtably a Super Soldier. 

He took deliberate steps toward us till he stood only a foot away from Bucky. “You know what they did to me for being a hero? They put my ass in jail,” Isaiah’s voice broke, the traumatic memories were hitting him as he spoke, “For thirty years. People running tests, taking my blood, coming into my cell. Even your people weren’t done with me.” “Isaiah…” Sam said carefully.

“Get out of my house!” Sam and I startled at the sudden noise, but I didn’t fault Isaiah for his reaction. My heart broke for him in fact. Tears had welled in my eyes as he told us fragments of his life, my hand slipped to my mouth to prevent my sobs from escaping. Bucky turned away first, leading me out as Isaiah’s presumed grandson did the same to Sam. He pushed ahead of us both, every emotion possible playing out on his face.

“Sam…” Bucky began as we descended the front steps of the house.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Isaiah? How could nobody bring him up?” Sam angrily pointed a finger towards Bucky, who remained quiet as the three of us walked down the middle of the road. “I asked you a question, Bucky.” “I know…” “Steve didn’t know about him?” Sam asked.

“He didn’t, I didn’t tell him,” Bucky answered, his eyes never leaving the ground.

“How could you not tell him?” I exclaimed, my tears still tracing abstract patterns down my cheeks, “If there were anybody to tell, it would have been him!” “So you’re telling me,” Sam stopped walking and pointed back to Isaiah’s house, “That there was a black Super Soldier decades ago and nobody knew about it?” 

Before Bucky got the chance to answer, the siren on a nearby police car sounded off. Two officers pulled up and exited the vehicle, “Hey.” “What’s up, man?” Sam said.

“Is there a problem here?” one asked, focusing on Sam.

“No, we’re just talking,” he answered, gesturing between the three of us. “We’re fine,” Bucky answered, visibly put out by the interruption.

“Really, we’re fine,” I shakily spoke up, wiping my palms under my wet eyes.

The officers didn’t accept our answers, instead coming closer towards Sam. “Can I see your ID?”

“I don’t have ID, why?”

“Okay, sir,” the officer held up his hands, “Just calm down.” “I am calm,” Sam responded, I could see the anger bubbling below his surface, “What do you want? We’re just standing here talking.” Bucky gestured towards the policemen, “Just give him your ID so we can leave.” The tears I was fighting so hard to control couldn’t be stopped as I watched the scene play out. “No,” Sam protested, “I’m not giving him shit, we’re just talking.” “Officers, there’s nothing going on,” I insisted, sniffling as I tried to speak. “Ma’am,” one of the men approached me, holding his hands out carefully as if to shield me from Sam, “If this man is making you uncomfortable in any way-“ “He’s my brother,” I sidestepped away from the cop, “You’re the only ones making us feel uncomfortable.” “He’s not bothering either of us, do you know who this is?” Bucky gestured towards Sam, I came to stand between both of them and placed a protective hand on Sam’s shoulder. If anything was going down, I was going down with him.

The cop that had briefly stepped away to his car came back and whispered something into his co-worker’s ear. His jaw dropped as he looked Sam over again, this time with a much less aggressive stare. “I am so sorry, Mr Wilson,” the bastard had the audacity to chuckle, “I didn’t recognize you without the goggles. I’m really, really sorry about this.” A second police car came down the street and stopped in front of us. The officers told us to wait as they hurried to try and clean up their mistake. It didn’t matter, the damage had already been done. Neighbors and people passing by were stood outside houses and on the sidewalk watching the scene unfold. And there stood Sam, the leading role of a story these men had written and forced him into. I’d never felt more helpless in that moment when I realized that had he not been recognized, there wouldn’t have been anything I could’ve done to save him.

“I didn’t…I didn’t tell anybody because he had already been through enough,” Bucky said quietly, reeling us back to our original point of conversation.

“Mr. Barnes,” the officer who had tried to cage me from Sam approached Bucky, “There’s a warrant out for your arrest.” “Look, the president pardoned him for all that,” Sam said. “Not for that. You missed your court-mandated therapy. It’s like missing a check-in with your PO. I’m sorry, Mr. Barnes, you’re under arrest.” Resigned was the only word I could think of to describe Bucky’s expression. He willingly followed and allowed them to handcuff him, quickly shaking his head at us as if to apologize for the ridiculousness as he got into the car. The worst part was I knew that if Sam or I were stupid enough to speak up, the consequences would be far worse than our reluctant cooperation. The car drove off, carrying Bucky and all his demons he hadn’t told his therapist about this week.

Sam and I remained frozen in the street, playing the last five minutes back in our heads. In a little house in a corner of Baltimore sat a war torn, wrongfully imprisoned, black Super Soldier who hadn’t had the suddenly privileged lifestyle Steve Rogers had. Isaiah had been beaten down, experimented on and abused for almost half of his life. The samples that had been taken from his body against his will had been used to create the Super Soldiers we’d met, ones that were out for blood. “Let’s get out of here,” Sam muttered, putting a hand on my back and pulling me into his side protectively. I snuck one last glance at Isaiah’s home, praying that whatever time he had left on earth was spent in the peace he deserved.

——

We hitched a cab ride to the downtown police station and were informed at the front desk that Bucky was being released. His therapist was flying in from New York to come and meet with him.

Sam and I sat in the uncomfortable chairs of the waiting area, him on his phone and me zoning out on the wall. The ‘what ifs’ of our confrontation with the police were still swirling around in my head, each one more brutal than the last.

“I’m not leaving,” I blurted out, “After this, I’m not leaving you guys.” Sam sighed and switched off his phone, “I’m not gonna argue this again with you. I’m keeping you safe, I don’t care whether you like it or not.” “Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m feeling,” I turned to him, my eyes watery and my fidgeting fists clenched in my lap. “I’m not going home just so I can sit from a safe distance and worry whether or not you’re gonna die at the hands of some cop who feels brave. Or a bunch of Super Soldiers with a grudge against the world,” I forced the lump building in my throat down, “I’m not going to leave and wait for your body to come back in a casket. The only way I’m going home is if you’re with me.” His lips parted like he was about to say something before deciding against it. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but I could see that my speech had affected him. He pulled me into him, my head laying on his shoulder and his arm around my neck. I had worried for my brother’s life when he was first in the service, even more when he first became an Avenger. But that fear couldn’t compare to the kind I felt when the cops disregard each of his truths. I sniffled as I rested against him, trying hard not to imagine a world where Sam Wilson wasn’t by my side.

“Sam,” a women approached us, “I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Dr. Raynor, James’ therapist.” We rose and Sam shook her hand, “So nice to meet you.” “Y/n Y/l/n,” I introduced myself as she extended the same greeting, “Thank you for getting Bucky out.”

“That was not me,” she smiled politely.

“Christina!” a nearby voice shouted, “It’s great to see you again.” 

When bulls see the color red, it angers them to the point that they’ll charge toward it in a fit of rage. My reaction to seeing John Walker in the red white and blue suit was one of a similar caliber.

“You gotta be kidding me,” I grumbled, covering my face with my palm. 

“You know him?” Sam asked in disbelief. “Yeah, we did some field ops back in the day,” Dr. Raynor answered.

Walker strutted towards us, “I heard you were working with Bucky so I thought I’d step in. Bucky’s not gonna be following a strict schedule any longer.” 

“We haven’t finished our work,” she asserted, “Who authorized this?” Walker held up two hands and aimed them at his arrogant self. “He’s too valuable of an asset to have tied up. Just do whatever you got to do with him, then send him off to me. Got some unfinished business, him and I,” he pointed to me and Sam, “You guys too. I’ll be outside.”

He marched back out through the door he’d come through and if we hadn’t been in a police station, I might have reeled him back in with my energy to inform him of just how low of a chance there was that we’d ever take an order from him. But if we had to go through him to spring Bucky, I’d bite my tongue for his sake.

“James,” Dr. Raynor turned, addressing Bucky who was now leaned up against the nearby counter, “Condition of your release, session now,” she looked over her shoulder towards us, “You too, Sam, Y/n.” Sam was quick to decline for us both, “That’s okay, we’ll be out here-“ “That wasn’t a request.”

Judging by the unenthusiastic glare we were getting from Bucky, he wasn’t any more excited than we were. “The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can leave,” I said to Sam, taking the initiative and following Dr. Raynor, once again with the men in my tow.

“What exactly is your relationship with James, Miss Y/l/n?” Dr. Raynor asked as she slowed her pace to match mine. “I don’t have a relationship with him,” I answered plainly, “I only met him yesterday. We got our asses kicked in Munich together.”

We were led into an interrogation room, just as cold and bleak as the ones I’d seen on tv. There were two chairs on each side of the table awaiting us. “Since I’m here primarily to speak with James and Sam, Y/n,” Dr. Raynor removed her coat and placed it on the back of her seat, “You can observe alongside me. You two on that end.” A simple thing as even sitting next to one another seemed like too big an ask for Sam and Bucky. The two of them looked like kids sent to the principal’s office as they begrudgingly sat down. I for one was looking forward to watching them sort out whatever beef they had that I had gotten tangled up in.

“So,” Dr. Raynor set her notebook down on the table, “Who would like to start?” “All right, look, Dr. Raynor?” Sam began, “I get it, why you want me to talk to Freaky Magoo over here. But I’m 100% fine.” Sam’s fatal mistake was darting his eyes over to me before looking back at her. I already knew he was lying, but his tell confirmed it.

“It is my job to make sure that you’re okay,” Dr. Raynor addressed Bucky, “And so, yeah, this may be slightly unprofessional but it’s the only way that I can see if you’re getting over whatever’s eating at you.” 

“This is ridiculous,” Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I agree,” Bucky shook his head.

“This is the first time they’ve agreed on anything for the past twenty four hours,” I spoke up, leaning back in my seat to watch the show unfold.

“See? We’re making progress already,” Dr. Raynor said, “So, who wants to go first?”

Silence.

“No volunteers? Wow, how surprising…” she remarked, “Okay, we’re going to do an exercise. It’s something I use with couples when they are trying to figure out what kind of life they wanna build together. Are you familiar with the miracle question?”

“Absolutely not,” Bucky answered. 

“Of course not,” Sam’s voice overlapped with Bucky’s.

“Okay, it goes like this. Suppose that while you’re sleeping, a miracle occurs. When you wake up, what is something that you would like to see that would make your life better?’

Bucky suddenly became chatty, “In my miracle, um, he would…he would talk less.”

“Exactly what I was gonna say,” Sam replied, “Isn’t that ironic?”

“You guys are leaving me with no choice,” Dr. Raynor shrugged, “It’s time for the soul-gazing exercise.” “I like this better,” Bucky perkily pointed a finger towards his shrink.

Sam chuckled quietly to himself, “He’s gonna love this.” “Yeah, I’m ready.” “This is right up your alley…” Dr. Raynor motioned for them to rotate, ”Turn around, face each other.” “You should really enjoy this,” Sam said acidly. 

“I’m going to,” Bucky said with a sarcastic smile, the only one I’d seen him wear. “Let’s do it,” he said happily as Sam moved to face him, “Let’s stare. This is a good exercise, thanks Doc.” “Alright, get close,” Dr. Raynor instructed, they scooted slightly towards one another, “Come on, get closer.” With their knees touching, any further would put them much closer than either of them would ever want. “Which way do you want to go?” Bucky asked, “Right or left?” “Why are your legs open?” Sam asked impatiently, “You know what? Fine, here, you happy now?” He used Bucky’s chair to pull him forward so they legs were locked together.

“That’s a little close,” Bucky said loudly, adjusting in his seat. Sam nodded in agreement, “It’s very close, that’s what you wanted, right?” 

I couldn’t hold in my laughter anymore, causing both of them to shoot daggers at me. “Is this fun for you?” Sam snapped, gesturing towards their touching thighs. “Very,” I grinned unapologetically.

“Guys,” Dr. Raynor held up a hand to silence us all, “Now, look at each other. You need to look at each other in the eyes,” they obeyed and lifted their eyes to meet, “There, you see? That wasn’t so hard.” The stares they wore intensified, “Wait, what are you doing?” Dr. Raynor asked, “Are you having a staring contest?” Sam adjusting his eyebrows was her answer, she leaned over the table and snapped her fingers. “Just blink! All right, James, why does Sam aggravate you?” Bucky turned to his therapist with as close to a real smile as I’d seen on him when she cut him off, “And don’t say something childish.” His head lolled to the side in defeat, his pink tongue came out to wet his lips as he thought over his answer. “Why did you give up that shield?” “Why are you making such a big deal over something that has nothing to do with you?” Sam shot back.

“Steve believed in you, he trusted you. He gave you that shield for a reason,” Bucky’s emotions were starting to seep out, “That shield, that is- that is everything he stood for. That is his legacy. He gave you that shield and you threw it away like it was nothing.” “Shut up…” Sam muttered.

“So maybe he was wrong about you. And if he was wrong about you, then he was wrong about me.”

The way that Bucky’s voice had quivered at the end was telling of just how deep the wound ran. But Sam’s forgoing of the shield was backed by reasons that Bucky could never wrap his mind around.

“You finished?” Sam spoke up, when Bucky said yes, he continued, “All right, good. Maybe this is something you or Steve will never understand. But can you accept that I did what I thought was right?”

This was the issue that made the heavy silence we were sitting in all the more complicated. Both men were valid in their feelings, but there would be no resolve for either of them. Steve was gone, Walker carried the shield and Bucky and Sam were trying their best to navigate a new world.

Sam scoffed, burying the emotions that I knew he was trying to hide from. “You know what, Doc? I don’t have time for this. We have some real serious shit going on. So how about this? I will squash it right now. We go deal with that, and when we’re done, we both can go on separate long vacations and never see each other again.” My eyes widened at how quickly the conversation had escalated. “I like that,” Bucky agreed.

“Great. Well, let’s get to work,” Sam turned to Dr. Raynor, “Thanks, Doc, for making it weird. I feel much better,” he turned to Bucky, “I’ll see you outside.” With a slap to his shoulder, he rose from his seat and was out the door in seconds. There was so much left unresolved that didn’t sit well with me. As Bucky went to stand up, I did too. “Actually, Doctor,” I walked around to table to take Sam’s empty seat, “I’d like to say a few things.” Bucky annoyedly fell back down into his chair and shook his head in irritation. I didn’t particularly care that he didn’t want to speak with me, all he had to do was listen. “I know you and Steve were best friends and I know how much he means to you. But I can’t sit here and watch you berate my brother relentlessly over the fact that he didn’t take up that mantle. It’s easy for someone like Steve to be Captain America without any pushback, but Sam?” I pointed to the closed door, “It’s a whole ‘other ballgame. And while Steve would never have fully understood it, he would have made an effort to. And he wouldn’t be pressuring Sam like you are. You need to drop this and you need to drop it now.” “Let’s get one thing straight,” his razor sharp jaw ticked in anger, “You don’t get to talk about Steve like you knew him or like you understand anything about our friendship. You never met him, you don’t get to speak for him.” He could have never known what button he had just pressed, but my reaction wouldn’t have changed even if he had. I sat up straighter in my chair, my steely eyes boring into him. “I didn’t know Steve? Well, then I guess it was a different Steve Rogers that Sam introduced me to when I came to visit him in D.C. And it must have been a different Steve Rogers that I visited at the Avengers compound when I helped Sam move in,” I leaned forward, the dam in my eyes threatening to break, “It must have been a different Steve Rogers that I ran to when people all around me started turning to dust.”

————

It was pouring rain outside the Avengers compound, the piles of dust that had rested on the ground having long since been washed away. Y/n stormed across the front lawn of the compound to the entrance, she had driven straight through for 20 hours from Delacroix to upstate New York. Getting past security hadn’t been hard once she had said who she needed to speak to and who it regarded.

Her boots squeaked across the floor as she marched through the compound, she’d only been once but she still remembered her way around. She navigated through hallways until she’d found the main room, she only recognized one of the figures that stood hunched over a table in deep discussion. At the sound of her entrance, each one of them turned around. “Y/n…” Steve said in shock, a relieved sigh spilling from his lips, “You’re okay.” “He’s here, right?” she trembled, “He’s in his room or the kitchen? Steve, tell me he’s here.” When Steve didn’t answer and ducked his head, Y/n pushed harder. “Tell me he’s here, Steve.” He looked back up, finally meeting her eyes. “I can’t do that.”

Y/n let the last bit of strength she had slip through her fingers as her soaked form dropped to the floor. Steve was quick to hold her, offering what little comfort he could, knowing that he wasn’t the person she wanted to see most in the world. She sobbed in his arms, the first step in the long process of mourning her brother.

Steve made a true effort to keep in contact with Y/n over the next five years. He flew down to New Orleans to visit every couple months or he offered to fly Y/n up to New York. About two years post Blip were when financial struggles really started to hit Sarah and Y/n’s business and Y/n had to decline each kind offer to meet him on his turf. When she explained why, Steve showed up on her doorstep two days later, ready to stay for the week and help out however he could. It wasn’t hard to see why Sam had bonded so deeply with Steve, he had just as big a heart as her brother.

The day that Sarah and Y/n received the joyous call from Sam that he was back from the dead was the best day of their lives. Y/n called Steve immediately after to tell him the news and thank him for whatever part she had guessed he’d played in reuniting their family. Her calls kept going to voicemail. After Sam’s reunion with his sisters and nephews, he took Y/n aside and handed her an envelope. Inside it was a letter from Steve explaining that he wouldn’t be returning after the restoration of the population. He wished her a good life with her family and that he had valued her friendship and kindness towards him. As brokenhearted as Y/n had been over the loss of her friend, when Sam told her the true reason behind Steve’s sudden disappearance, she was overjoyed that Steve had gotten somebody he loved back too.

Steve Rogers was there for Y/n in some of her darkest hours. They had bonded deeply, their friendship a single ray of light in their then darkened world. To see his shield paraded around by someone who didn’t embody the same qualities and values that he did hurt more than she let on. The world may have accepted John Walker, but he’d never be Captain America in Y/n’s eyes.

————

I had somehow made it through my retelling of my time with Steve without completely breaking down. A river of silent tears streamed down my cheeks but my voice held firm. 

Bucky’s harsh stare had diminished significantly the longer I spoke. His plush lips were parted in surprise, words I didn’t care to hear hanging off of them.

“I don’t ever want to hear that I didn’t know Steve Rogers,” my voice threatened to break finally, “You’re not the only one who wants to protect his legacy.” Dr. Raynor had remained so silent while I talked, I’d forgotten she was there until she offered me a tissue. I hastily wiped my cheeks, ducking away from Bucky’s gaze. “Thank you, Doctor,” I said softly as I stood up, “This has been really helpful.” I wrapped my arms tight around my torso and exited the room as quick as I could, making a beeline for the lobby to find Sam. When he spotted me, he stood to attention. “What’s wrong? What happened?” “Nothing,” I shook my head, “I just want to get out of here.” He placed a protective hand on my shoulder as he watched me sniffle the last of my tears away. Bucky joined us seconds later, I couldn’t look directly at him after bearing so much of myself to him. The three of us left the police station in a now familiar silence, each deep in thought about what we’d revealed. 

“Well, I feel better,” Sam said as we stepped out into the cool evening air. “I feel awful,” Bucky grumbled.

A siren whooping caught our attention, I wished it hadn’t. There stood Lemar Hoskins and John Walker, waving at us and calling us over. The three of us reluctantly made our way towards them. “Look, if we divide ourselves, we don’t stand a chance, you guys know that.”

Sam rolled his eyes and humored him, “So what do you got?”

“Well, the leader’s name’s Karli Morgenthau,” Walker explained, “We’ve been targeting civilians who’ve been helping Karli move from place to place.” “They geotagged a location, then scrambled the signal,” Hoskins interjected, “But our satellites have found their symbol popping up in various displaced communities all across Central and Eastern Europe.” 

“We think she’s taking the medicine she just stole to one of these camps,” Walker finished.

“Well, there are hundreds of those all over the planet since The Blip,” Bucky spoke up across from me, “So I guess you’ll have to look real hard.” Walker smiled, “Good thing I have 20/20 vision, huh?” “Where is she now, Walker? Do you know?” Bucky asked. “No, we don’t know, Bucky,” his voiced raised, highlighting his frustrations, “It’s only a matter of time before we find out.” If I knew anything about Bucky by now, it was that he had no issue with provoking people. “Things are really intense for you, aren’t they, Walker?” I clapped my hands together once, “Okay, if this keeps going, someone’s probably gonna end up back in there behind bars so let’s just settle down.” “Look, Walker’s right,” Sam stepped forward, “It is imperative that we find them and stop them. But you guys have rules of engagement and all kind of authorizations you have to get. We’re free agents. We’re more flexible. So it wouldn’t make sense for us to work with you.”

We didn’t make it further than a three steps when Walker spoke up again. “Miss Y/l/n,” I stopped walking at his call, “You’re an enhanced individual, right?” “I’m what they call a mutant,” I spun on my heels to face him, “But to simplify it, sure, I’m enhanced.” Walker raised a condescending eyebrow, “Are you familiar with the Sokovian Accords?”

My spine stiffened, he was trying to blackmail me without actually saying the words. I was far too familiar with the accords and the ramifications they’d had on the Avengers. They’d sent Steve and Sam on the run for two years. “I think I’ve heard of them, yeah,” I smiled humorlessly. “It clearly states that any enhanced individuals who haven’t signed are not authorized to participate in any national or international conflicts or any missions run by private organizations such as the Avengers,” he gestured towards Sam, “You’re running with an Avenger, aren’t you?” A mirthless chuckle fell from my mouth as I watched him try and intimidate me. “Look, Craptain America,” I took slow and calculated steps towards him, “You can order your partner around or the soldiers that look up to you, but don’t think for one second that you can threaten me and try to pull the same shit the government did with Wanda Maximoff. I’m not going to be told who I can and cannot help.” Walker looked down at me menacingly, resembling a little boy who hadn’t gotten his way. “A word of advice then,” he said, eyes flicking between Sam, Bucky and I, “Stay the hell out of my way.” The juxtaposition between him and Steve had never been more apparent. Here he was daring to threaten me with incarceration followed by an ominous warning when it hadn’t worked. Bucky, Sam and I waited until him and Hoskins had left before heading our own way. “‘Craptain America?’” Sam echoed, slinging an arm around my neck, “I don’t think I’ve ever been prouder of you.” “It was a low blow,” I admitted with a contradictory smirk.

“Someone needed to say it,” Bucky chimed in, hesitantly looking over to me before quickly averting his gaze back to the sidewalk.

“Do I need to be worried that he threatened me with the accords? Are Sarah and I going to have S.H.I.E.L.D showing up on our door or something?” I asked.

“I think he’s just trying to intimidate you, but…” Sam inhaled wearily, “But I’d rather keep you here with us, just to be safe. If anybody were to come, we could protect you.” My smile grew as I looked up at Sam, the parameters of how to keep me safe had changed in my favor. I was almost grateful Walker had threatened me. “I can stay?” “Stop looking so happy about it,” Sam dropped his arm from around me, “This isn’t going to be easy,” he looked to our left to Bucky, “So what are you thinking?”

“Well, I know what we have to do,” he answered, if he had reservations about me sticking around, he was kind enough not to mention them. “When Isaiah said “my people…””

“Oh, don’t take that to heart. That’s not what he meant.”

“No, he meant HYDRA, HYDRA used to be my people.”

Sam thought the answer over for a second, decoding it. “Not a chance,” he scoffed.

“Walker doesn’t have any leads,” Bucky shrugged.

“I know where you’re going with this, no.” “He knows all of HYDRA’s secrets. Don’t you remember Siberia?” “Wait, you’re not talking about…” I sought out Bucky’s eyes that were still dodging mine. I didn’t need a history lesson on who he was referring to. “No. Not him. He’s crazy.” “We don’t exactly have a lot of other options,” Bucky said as if that was justification for what he wanted to do. “So you’re just gonna go sit in a room with this guy?” Sam asked. Bucky hesitated, searching for a more sophisticated answer. “Y-yes.” I may have been allowed to stay, but I knew that I wasn’t experienced enough yet to argue on their level. They knew when and how to make the difficult calls, they could operate in a grey area with little to no issues. All I could do was sit back, be taken along for the ride and tolerate any passengers who got in along the way.

“Okay, then,” Sam finally concurred, “We’re gonna go see Zemo.”

————

I couldn’t sleep.

We were back on the jet speeding back to Germany, this time with an even more sinister problem at hand. I had wanted to come along, I just hadn’t guessed that the reason I’d be allowed to stay would be because of a threat to my safety. All because of my powers. This was the reason why my father had been hellbent on keeping them a secret. I felt in a way that I’d failed him, that somewhere in the afterlife he was disappointed in me for telling the truth, even if I’d done it for the right reasons. Sam was conked out next to me, I envied his military training to get quick sleep wherever he could. I personally felt like I’d injected caffeine into my veins back in Maryland and hadn’t been able to come down since.

“Can’t sleep?” Bucky asked from where he laid on the floor, I thought he’d been unconscious the whole time.

“Can’t imagine why,” I dryly chuckled, “We’re only flying cross country to sit down and meet with one of the world’s most dangerous criminals. Why the floor?” “Oh,” he’d sat up and was looking back down at his lousy makeshift bed, his jacket balled up as a pillow and an itchy blanket, “It’s, uh, hard to explain.”

After a few seconds of near uncomfortable silence, he pushed himself up and made his way to where I sat. I tucked my legs under me to make room for his burly body. He was big enough that with all the space I’d tried to give him, my knees still brushed against his thick thigh. He sighed loudly, giving voice to the divide that if we’d have gone our separate ways, as planned, wouldn’t have mattered. Now that we were going to be working together, we couldn’t ignore what had been said in that interrogation room.

“Listen, about what…happened,” his face contorted in a mild cringe as he played the scene back in his head, “I’m sorry, for what I said.” “You didn’t know,” I offered, picking at a loose thread on my jacket, “I don’t talk about Steve a whole lot except with Sam.” “Still, I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that,” Bucky continued, folding his hands in his lap. “I’ve been rude since we met and that’s not okay. Especially when all you’ve done is try and help.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” I leaned my head against the back of my seat, “No permanent damage done.” His thumbs danced together, his brows were knitted in concentration as he prepared to speak. “Can I, uh, ask you about your powers?”

I twisted so that I could properly face him, “Ask away.” “How did they happen?” “I was born with them, actually. I’ve got this thing called the X-gene, it’s supposed to manifest at puberty but for me it activated when I was really young,” I ran a hand through my hair, “Imagine being five years old and having blue come out of your fingers when you were reaching for a juice box.” A miracle occurred and Bucky’s lips actually quirked up in a half smile. It encouraged me to keep talking. “My mom wanted to take me to this school for kids like me but my dad forbade it. He kept saying that it was too dangerous and that somebody could find me. It was like he didn’t realize that it was a refuge for people with powers, not a hunting ground,” I paused, flashing back to arguments between my parents of which one of them actually knew what was best for me. “So instead, I just taught myself how to control them. There were a couple incidents but other than that, I’ve kept them under lock and key for a long time.”

Bucky had remained still and fascinated as I spoke, switching between watching my eyes and my lips. Suddenly it felt like nothing had ever gone on between us. We were just fellow soldiers or co-workers having a conversation outside of work.

“What do they think now? Your parents?” he asked, the ease of the moment slipping away with a simple question. He couldn’t have known the minefield he was stepping into.

“My mom doesn’t know yet that I told Sam,” I sighed deeply, inhaling strength and exhaling bad memories, “And my dad killed himself when I was a kid.” “Oh,” Bucky’s eyebrows lifted, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried into-“

“No, no, it’s fine…” I waved him off, “Whether I want it to be or not, it’s a part of me. He was in the service and when he returned, he was diagnosed with severe PTSD. I was so young when he came home that I don’t really have any memories of him before it happened. He had all the classic symptoms; flashbacks, nightmares, paranoia, fits of anger, at some point he even stopped believing that he was a good father and husband,” I tear slipped down my cheek, “That was around the time it happened. We tried for so long to help him but the trauma consumed him. Every day he was just doing his best to survive himself.” I glanced up at Bucky to find that his eyes were just as watery as mine. It hadn’t dawned on me that I was telling him everything that he already knew about what happened when someone returned from war. He was living it out right now. 

“I’m not trying to strike any nerves but…in that session tonight, I saw how much you were holding in. With Sam, with me…” I started, praying I wasn’t going to end up pushing him further away, “I’ve seen what bottling things up and isolating yourself can do to a person and it’s a hell I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. I know you don’t trust me yet but…if you ever do need somebody to talk to…I can’t understand your experiences, but I can recognize some of it.” Bucky truly looked lost, like he’d never been in the position of receiving such an offer. His face, usually so hardened, had softened so much he was almost unrecognizable. And yet there was still some barrier, some pain weaved between the hope and vulnerability that kept him from receiving my kindness with open arms. In the session, the pain I had seen in his eyes reminded me so desperately of that in my father’s eyes. If I didn’t try to help him, that look would haunt me for a long time.

“Thank you,” he finally said, his voice raspy enough to make me shiver. We sat there in the dark, both our walls we’d built around ourselves starting to crumble as we chipped away at one another. There was some feeling I couldn’t put a name to that had settled over us. The eyes that I’d avoided all day were now all I could focus on, digging into the deep blue pools and feeling like I could lay down my sword there. If we were going to get through this mission, we needed to be friends at least and I felt confidant we were on the path.

Bucky eventually cleared his throat, shaking me from my thoughts that he was at the center of. “We’re gonna be to Berlin soon, you should get some sleep.”

Internally, I smiled at the familiarity, it was almost word for word what he’d told me the other night. Only now the hostility had been dropped.

“You need it too,” I replied as he rose and made his way across the plane, “Goodnight, Barnes.” I curled up in a ball near Sam’s feet, praying he didn’t kick me in his sleep. I had just shut my eyes to try when a voice spoke up, “Bucky.”

“Hmm?” I opened one eye to see him lay back down on the floor, attempting to get comfortable.

“Call me Bucky.”

I pursed my lips slightly to decrease the size of my smile, I wasn’t the only one laying down their weapons. “Alright. Goodnight, Bucky.”

----

A/N: There’s something so powerful about name dropping Wanda Maximoff and Y/n having been besties with Steve Rogers lol. Hope you all enjoy, let me know what you thought or if you’d like to be tagged! 

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