#its not like i could Drink beer | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

corameiwrites · 1 month ago

Text

𖦹 i want somebody to want 𖦹

pair: jason todd x gn!reader

plot: When you turn 21, the name of your soulmate appears on your forearm. Not everyone is born with a soulmate, and Jason Todd never thought he would have one.

wc: 2k

authors note: I remember reading in a fic somewhere about the Wayne Scholarship, and I forgot who/where I read it exactly, so credit to them whoever they are. Also, some characters may seem a little ooc and tbh I don't really care. I had fun writing this which is all that matters, and I hope you have fun reading it!

pt. 2

The place Dick had dragged Jason to wasn’t all that bad, considering it was located in Blüdhaven. Unless it was near the University area, there was always something sinister and more corrupt happening under the alcohol, vomit, and blood-stained floors of Gotham bars. Normally no amount of bribery or guilting could make him voluntarily dress up and go out drinking with his older brother, but today was not normal.

It was his twenty-first birthday.

Meaning that by 11:59 tonight, if a name didn’t appear somewhere on one of his arms, he was destined to be alone. Not everyone is born with a soulmate, and realistically, after all the shit he’s been through, Jason Todd never thought he would have one. Despite that, there was some sort of dread slowly filling his body the more he thought about it. Maybe it was that small flame of the little boy he used to be—before Robin and the Bat and the Joker—igniting at the chance of finally having one. It was the same boy who would trace his parents’ names on their wrist, asking them to tell him once more how they met, what they felt seeing the names appear on their skin. Unfortunately, that little boy would be let down yet again by the end of the night.

His plans had originally been to stay in his main apartment (the one where he stored all his books and indulged in a comfy couch), buy a 6-pack of the cheapest beer and get drunk alone. That was ruined, however, when he received multiple annoying texts from Dick, begging to go out for drinks tonight, specifying multiple times that it would be on him. Jason told himself the only reason he agreed was for the free drinks and to keep himself from checking his forearm every five goddamn seconds (a night out with Richard Grayson was known to be entertaining and unpredictable).

If it was Dicks plan to get Jason blackout drunk, he was doing a pretty good job of it. After agreeing he would be the designated driver, Dick had laid back on the drinks and only taken 3 of the five rounds of shots they had already ordered. Jason was opening up bit by bit, reminiscing on their childhood together. By his fifth shot, smiling seemed to come easier to Jason.

Currently, they were both watching the flatscreen hung behind the bar showing a news channel covering Batman and Robin putting an end to another bank robbery.

Dick pointed at the screen. “Damian learned that move from me.”

“No, I taught him that.”

“I’m the one who taught you that move when you were younger, big dummy,” Dick teased.

“Oh, I forgot.” Jason's tone lost its joking edge, and Dick looked over at him. “You know,” he continued almost somberly. “Ever since coming back, I seem to forget a lot of things.”

His eyes were glued to the screen, watching as Batman jumped out a window in pursuit of the bad guy. Robin shouted after him.

“You’ve been through hell and back, Todd. Normal people wouldn’t have been able to handle it the way you did.”

“No, you see, that's the thing.” Jason's voice was frustrated, his previous smiles gone. His brows furrowed the longer he ranted. “I’m not normal. I cycle through apartments and bunkers like crazy to help me lay low. I sleep in until 3 pm and I put a helmet on to chase down crazy guys with guns for hours at night. The public knows me as some traumatized kid who somehow survived a terrorist attack.” He pauses to take a gulp of beer, slamming the glass onto the bar, lifting his arm to wipe his mouth. Dick watched his jacket slip down his arm.

“Jason–”

“I don’t have a home, I don’t have a stable routine, I don’t even have life insurance!” Dick had somehow managed to get the former deceased and outlaw brother of his drunk and ranting about life. And the worst part? Nobody was ever going to believe him.

“Jason,” Dick puts a hand on his younger brother's shoulder, gripping him like a vice. His eyes never left his arm. “Your soulmate.”

Both of them are silent for a moment. Jason sighs, shaking his head.

“Damn, you're good at this.Yeah, it's about the soulmate thing.”

“You fucking idiot,” Dick slaps him on the back of his head. “Look at your arm!”

Dick watched as Jason stared him in the eyes, his brain clearly trying to catch up with what his brother was insinuating. When he finally looked down, it was comedic the way his eyes bulged at the fresh ink on his left arm. Dick tried his best to keep his excitement at bay, biting back his proud smile. His grumpy, tough, and borderline psychotic little brother had a soulmate. After a couple more seconds of silence, Jason cursed under his breath.

“I’m too sober for this,” Jason mumbled, chugging down the rest of his beer.

Dick laughs, waving the bartender over and handing him a card to close their tab. Jason slams the empty cup down, staring straight ahead at nothing in particular. “I have a soulmate.”

“Yeah man, congratulations!” Dick pats his brother on the back, but recoils at Jason turning abruptly and staring him dead in the eye.

“I have a soulmate.”

“I…yeah, you do bud.”

“...I have a soulmate.” He repeats, annunciating each word, as if he can’t believe it. “I need to find them,” Jason says, standing and walking towards the exit of the bar.

“Woah, Jason–” Dick hurriedly stands, apologetically yelling for the bartender and grabbing his card. Rushing outside, he sees Jason recklessly crossing the street to the parking lot. “Slow down!”

Jason stands awkwardly next to Richard Grayson's blue convertible, clambering over the door and into the passenger seat. Dick watches from across the street, shaking his head with a smile, making his way to the car. He couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed with Jasons drunken behavior.

Hopping in the driver's seat, Dick puts the keys into the ignition. “Alright loverboy, where are we going?”

“The mansion,” Jason struggles to get his seatbelt on (Dick intervenes). “The Batcave’s computer can find anyone.”

“Huh. That’s actually really smart considering you're drunk.”

“I’m not. Just shut up and drive.”

Dick laughs, hitting the gas pedal and doing as he was told.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ♡ ✩˚｡⋆𖦹｡°⋆✮

Bruce was home early, having quickly left the bank robbers tied up as Gordons responsibility. Currently, he was sitting in the library going over a case file. Damian had already gone to bed when he had gotten an alert of a vehicle coming up the manor's driveway. He checked the security cameras in the garage and was shocked to see his eldest rushing to the passenger side of the car to stop his sluggish brother from falling out. At first, Bruce had thought that he was poisoned or impaired in some way. He called for Alfred, asking him to prepare the medical rooms to tend to Jason. A few short minutes later, he heard faint voices approaching.

“I used to live here before I died, I know where I’m going.”

“Clearly not, we passed the entrance already.”

“The old man has a sensor on that door. We need to take the entrance in one of the bookshelves, they don’t notify him when someone enters.” No one but Alfred was supposed to know that.

“I doubt it’ll matter, he’s out fighting crime with—oh shit!” Bruce watched through his freakish peripheral vision as two figures hurriedly backed away from the doorway of the library. “Code Bat! Code Bat!” Dicks voice had dropped to a whisper, though not so quiet that Bruce couldn’t hear.

“B’s here?” A head with a white streak of hair popped through the doorway before quickly vanishing. “Oh no.”

“It’s only 11:45, what is he doing lounging around?”

Bruce chuckled quietly, now coming to the realization that they weren’t drugged or in danger; they were just drunk. Jason especially, which made sense. Quietly, he sent Alfred a message telling him to disregard the request. He feigned ignorance to their presence, going as far as flipping pages of the case file in his lap while they bickered, attempting to formulate a plan. Listening in to their not very secretive conversation, Bruce deduced that they had come to find Jason's soulmate on the Bat computer. It was his 21st afterall, and why else would he come drunkenly to the home he tried so hard to stay away from? Bruce found himself smiling for the boy. He had been through so much, and he deserved to have some good in his life. He only hoped that whoever they were, they took care of him in places where Bruce failed.

Sighing exaggeratedly, he stood, stretched and slowly made his way to the doorway, listening as the two brothers hushed. He allowed himself one last second of respite before wiping the smile off his face and walking out into the dark hallway. Dick stood alone, leaning against the wall and whistling. He turned his head, seeing Bruce standing, observing him.

“Oh, hey Bruce! I’ve been looking for you.” Dick pushed off the wall, going to stand next to his Father. “I thought I’d visit, wait for you to get home, but you’re here!”

“What do you need?”

“Oh nothing much,” taking Bruce's arm, he began to drag him in the opposite direction, past the library. “I just got nostalgic, and wanted to take a trip down memory lane with my Pops.”

“You smell like alcohol.”

“Like I said, I was feeling nostalgic!”

Dick rattled on, leading him down the dark halls, and Bruce noticed Jason slipping into the library. He smiled, turning his attention back to his eldest. He couldn’t find himself to be angry about his sons keeping secrets from him. If he felt anything about tonight's endeavor, it was disappointment. Bruce Wayne had taught his sons to be sneakier than they had been tonight.

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Jason, in his drunken haste, had almost tripped down the short flight of steps leading to the massive computer. He couldn't really blame the alcohol though—it was his fault for looking down at his arm every couple seconds, as though the black ink would fade away before he ever found out who you were. Even if it did, he had already committed the name to memory.

He knew how many letters were in your name, the number of syllables in the different parts of it. Despite this, he hadn’t yet spoken it out loud. For the last 30 minutes of his life, every breath he took held a certain weight to it, and the beating of his heart had persisted to be about 120 beats per minute.

He blamed it on the alcohol, but logically he knew the reason.

That little boy—the one he thought was dead and buried—was coming back to life, crawling his way out of the depths of Jason and settling into his gut.

His hand shook as he typed the name, every click of the keyboard ringing dully in his skull. Inhaling deeply, Jason hesitated for only a moment before clicking enter. Your name popped up surprisingly quickly, specifically registered under the “Wayne Scholarship” file.

His hand moved by its own volition and the link was clicked, a government ID popping up on the display.

Staring up at the photo of you in awe, his eyes flickered to the name and back to the photo, unbelieving that this was you. Your simple beauty was evident even through the low quality government ID.

He stared for a while, just taking in you. It was a little odd looking at the huge screen, knowing that you two were made for each other. The thought only made his heart speed up even more.

Digging into your file, he finds that you’re 20 and won’t be turning 21 for another seven months. The knowledge that he knows and you don’t makes him nauseous.

Clenching the edge of the table, he remembers that the reason he found you so quick was due to the Wayne Scholarship. You moved to Gotham for your third year of college to attend Gotham University, with most of the tuition paid for as long as you agree to stay away from any and all crime. Suddenly, he had found another reason to be thankful that Bruce was filthy rich. Your current residence was an old apartment complex in the University area, which was for the most part, free of crime. The more information he got from Bruce Wayne's files, the more his stomach fluttered.

That little boy was practically jumping up and down inside of him, chanting over and over again, “I knew it! I knew we would have a soulmate!”. As the information sunk in, he began to shake more violently, and he felt like his legs were barely holding his weight. In fear of throwing up or collapsing on the floor (or both), he fell backwards into Bruce's chair. A tear slid down Jason’s cheek, and then another, and another.

For the first time in a long time, Jason Todd sobbed.

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sbcdh · 13 days ago

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Dad wasn’t a nice guy. I don’t think I need to tell you that. But don’t believe the media. I don’t think he was evil. People give him a bad rap, or, they gave him a bad rap for the wrong reasons. They didn’t know the man like I did.

Tell me more about that.

He loved Emmett more. Told me himself, straight as whiskey. Emmett was tall, went to Harvard business school. Helped dad out in the oil fields. Well, helped in the oil fields at first anyway. He was clever. Had a melon like a jackknife and a nose like a bloodhound for finding tar sands. I never really knew how he did it. And well, look at me. I definitely took more after dad. Short fat and bad tempered. Ha! I really took after dad. I went to Harvard too, of course. But I went for geology. Fuckin’ geology. Yeah I knew dad better than any other man on earth.

Why do you say that?

Theres a way of knowing that only happens when you need someone to notice you. You need that like the air you breathe. You know everything about them. Learn the things they like, when their moods swing round, what they want and fear and dream about. Emmett didn’t have to care about stuff like that. Emmett was a golden boy.

He was quite skilled at finding oil wells.

You know he damn well was. Never did figure out how he did that. You know doc, now that you got me on the couch, you got me wonderin’. You reckon it was somethin’ hypno-economical? It always did seem like he could sniff out tar sands from over the damn horizon.

It is possible. I would like to talk more about you, and your relationship with your father.

Bet you do. Emmett was the key to everything. Dad made a lot of money early on. Said he was real good at cards. Said he made money cheating loggers at table games up in Canada. Who the hell knows? Point is by the time I was born he was already speculating in land. WWI was a great time for that shit…You know�� You know that reminds me. You know what my earliest memory of dad was? It was him, covered in fuckin crude from a new well. Painted head to toe like…like a doll. One of those old ones you only see in antique shops these days. He was smilin wide with big bright teeth and big bright eyes. He was shoutin to Gert about something and they were both real excited.

That would be Gertrude Jager, your m-

Emmett’s mom.

Yes, of course. Apologies. Please continue.

We were outside. It was early in the morning and I could feel the sun on my back. I had this blanket Gert made me and I was holdin’ it in my little fist. Just like this. Hey doc what are you writin’ there?

Notes on our conversation. Was there any sign of his…

Ascension to the throne of the god-pharaoh? Ha. I was wondering when you’d bring that up. You know, I think it was Emmett.

Emmett?

Yeah. Well, it wasn’t nothin’ Emmett did per se. He just. Well, its a big family, lotta big personalities you know? Dad wasn’t the best about keepin a lid on his temper, but Emmett. He was a bit funny. He’d work for hours on end. I seen him spend eight whole hours out in the fields, writing in some little notebook, come home to the house, and then spend eight more hours writing at the dinner table while the help brought him hotdogs. It was the same thing every time. Hot dogs, shredded cabbage, and beer. He’d eat nothin’ but that for days on end. Then he’d get all quiet. Lock himself in his room, drink himself to sleep.

You weren’t concerned?

I was 15. And the family’s got a lotta big personalities.

What changed?

It was the Wolf Basin lode. You gotta think about that for a second. One million barrels of oil, right when uncle sam is at his thirstiest. Daddy had always hobnobbed with politicians, but they were practically lining up outside the door. They were buyin’ him dinner, and he would up and tell em to take a hike! Imagine that! He would come home late at night, I never seen him happier. He tell me about all the things he said to those men. Made him happier than a pig in shit.

The success is what changed him?

Maybe. It weren’t just the money. It was the power. The letters he got. Official United States letterhead. Comin’ in from the governor and senators and once or twice even president Truman. Sometimes I’d see him at his desk just starin at em, not opened or nothin’. He just looked at em. That’s when he started readin’ about Egypt and whatnot. Told me he wanted to know about the old kings. Wanted to rule his domain properly. Read all sorts of things about the middle kingdom and Ptolemy and Ramses II. He’d ramble for hours if you let him. Then one day, he comes back from the Rio Grande in a homemade Nemes.

Nemes?

Thats the crown of the Pharaohs. He told us that. I think he made his outta old flour sacks. Said he was chosen by Aten to build a new kingdom-o-the-dead right here in Plano.

That seems quite sudden.

It was. It was sudden. Well- Well it was kinda sudden. I think it had somethin’ to do with Emmett. This was around when his funny moods were gettin’ bad. Real bad. He was workin’ himself to string. He weren’t eatin’ or sleepin’. Dad had politicians comin over every damn day to look at the oil fields and Emmett was like a ghost. He couldn’t work! I think dad was scared, because he knew Emmett was the key and none of it would work without him. He started wearin the Nemes more. Wore it round the house with a collar and a robe and whatnot. Started carryin’ a scepter. All that. The politicians and the media thought it was a hoot. They thought he was just bein funny. Or like it was some freemason thing. He could get a laugh back then. They just thought he was bein’ funny.

You don’t seem to share the sentiment.

No ma’am. He’d go into these rages. They were kinda like Emmett’s but, I dunno. Different, but the same. Ranting and raving about the english language “defiling” sacred hieroglyphics, navigatin du’at, securin himself a place in the field of reeds. He even made the help carry around palm fronds to fan him with. Even bought that purple Rolls Royce so he could travel around like Cleopatra did. Said it was the color of empire. It was around then. Yeah. He wanted to tear down the western guest house, and rebuild it on the north side of the property, so he could build a temple to Aten on the western side of the property. He and Emmett got into one hell of a fight. They’d gone at it before but not like that. It did somethin’ to Emmett. He locked himself in his room, wouldn’t eat or sleep. Sure as hell couldn’t work. A month turned into two, then six. There’d be a day when it seemed like Emmett was his normal self then, well then he’d fall right back down into his mood. Then, well.

What happened?

Some doctor said we oughta try lobotomy. You know, to fix Emmetts moods. Get him back to work. Dad jumped at it. With Emmett out of the fields he wasn’t making money half as fast as he used to. Practically dragged him to the doctors himself. Couldn’t get the pick behind his eyes fast enough the bastard. It broke him doc. Broke him ways I didn’t know a man could break. He-

Take your time.

He wouldn’t touch the table when he ate. Thought it would shock him like the doctors shocked him. He would break down crying and screaming if you asked him any sort of question. Ask him what he wanted for dinner and he wouldn’t know, and that would scare him, and it would scare him so bad he would tear out his own hair. Sometimes he’d just go quiet. Sometimes he’d just wander around the house. Then there were the nurses.

Nurses?

Yes Ma’am. See, dad got Emmett right back to work. But Emmett uh. Lord. He couldn’t focus. You couldn’t leave him alone for two minutes without him abusin’ himself in front of everyone. Hands down his pants, primin’ the pumps. So dad hired a bunch of fancy whores to follow him around dressed as nurses. If we had good company over, and Emmett started to get the itch, they’d just pull him into the next room like he was havin’ some kinda medical episode.

I- really?

Hand to God doc. Tell ya the truth its nice to tell someone about it. This psychotherapy shit is pretty nice. God. I remember one day. Drivin out to the basin in dads big stupid purple Rolls. He brought me along just to take notes. I was shotgun with all the papers, dad in the drivers seat in his Nemes, Emmett in the back seat playin’ hell with the whores. We got out, miles and miles from any other living souls. I remember gettin’ to check one of the dericks. Big ol mean dinosaur lookin’ thing, high heat middle of summer. It was dad and I glarin’ up at it. I was trying to actually check the damn pumps, dad was sermonating loud n’ proud about the rays of Aten while one of the whores was tryin’ to suck off Emmett. And its like I didn’t even care. I didn’t care one bit doc. I was just tryin’ to check the sediment.

I- Well, you’ve done very well for yourself despite everything.

Nah. Dad was fallin’ apart. I was just there to pick up the pieces. He couldn’t handle what happened to Emmett. Its like someone cut off dad’s own legs. It unhitched him from the world.

How so?

Well, he got convinced the Jews did it. Somehow, he got it into his head that the Jews were poisoning all the food in texas, and that uh -Jew poison- was makin’ Emmett like that. It was dad’s thought that the lobotomy woulda worked if it weren’t for the international bolsheviks. He would only ever eat food he grew on the family farm. Even turned a bit of the chemistry division of the business into that vitamin company.

Yes, its in my notes. Vitazon.

Vitazon! That’s the one! Said every pill had a bit o’gold in it, straight from the rays of Atem. Said it- Oh what the hell was it. Said it only worked if you… There was some funny little jingle he wrote for it. Ah hell. The point was the pills only “worked” if you ate em every meal, and that meant subscribing to the company. A whole month’s supply of Vitazon, that was all you needed to purge the Judeo-Bolshevism from your body. Buncha nonsense. Made good money though.

I see. Did you and your father ever reconcile before he passed?

Nah. He kicked the bucket before I got my big deal with the Saudis. Good riddance. You know what the last thing he said to me was? He called me while I was on a fishing trip up in big bear. I pick up the phone, and he starts rambling about how he wanted to be mummified. He wanted a full new-kingdom funeral. He said catholics weren’t allowed because they were a “semitic people.” I had him cremated, the bastard. But Emmett technically owns the estate. I think his ashes are kept in the temple of Aten, in one of those funny jars with the animal heads.

What about Emmett?

You know doc, I don’t really like thinkin’ about Emmett. He’s living at the old house. But he’s got proper doctors to take care of him now. I saw to that. They send me letters every few months. Apparently he’s better than he used to be. Calmer. They say he just shuffles around the house wearin’ dads old Nemes. I think it makes him happy.

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malum-forev · 1 month ago

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Eyes, They Never Lie

Summary: Sam and Bucky try to recruit (Y/N), Bucky's ex and a former Avenger who has left that life behind. But they realize her life has changed completely once they meet a her daughter with striking blue eyes.

Pairings: Bucky x Former!Avenger!Reader

“They want me to assemble a group,” Sam takes a long sip of his beer, thinking that it’ll do something to ease his mind. “The New Avengers.”

Bucky lets out a low whistle.

“I know.” Sam mutters. So far, it’s Captain America and the Falcon, but other than that, he’s completely lost. “Back when Steve was here, there was a place for us to go. We could aspire to one day go into the compound and train, but now, anyone who is willing to be part of the team is scattered all around the world.”

Bucky hasn’t said anything, not because he doesn’t know how to help his friend but because he’s so lost in his own journey. Running for congress sounded like a good idea, until he started dealing with the political world. So much bureaucracy, so many people wanting to fatten their wallets. And not enough actual helping.

“You got any ideas?” Sam asks, bringing him out of his mind.

But Bucky just hums, because the idea he does have is crazy.

“C’mon I know that being a silent watcher is your whole deal but I need some help over here. How the hell am I going to build a team from zero?”

Bucky finishes his drink, as if that’s going to help jumpstart his confidence. “Are you looking for fresh meat? Or do you got space for an old timer?”

Sam’s eyes widen. “I thought all your fighting days were behind you.”

“I want out,” Bucky loosens the tie on his neck. “I want to go out on the field again. Really help.”

Sam runs a hand down his face, there’s hesitation in the way he looks at Bucky.

“Unless…” Bucky gulps. “Unless I’m not what you’re looking for.”

“No, no.” Sam places a hand on his shoulder. “I just need to tell you something before you say yes to this-“

“What is it?”

“I was-uh-“ Sam looks up at the screen above them, not wanting to look at his friend in the eye when he says it. “I was gonna ask her to join, too.”

“Oh,” Bucky can’t help but think back to when you were his, at least for a moment. Every time he thinks about being happy, you’re right there next to him.

You were the first woman he was actually interested in. He spent years wasting time with thousands of women, letting them in his apartment but never into his heart. But your eyes reeled him in from the moment you started as an agent. Steve would always tease Bucky, saying he’d have to see you fall in love with someone else if he didn’t ask you out.

Those were the best years of his life. No doubt.

Until you left. You retired, and wanted nothing to do with him. And all the love you had seemed to evaporate from one day to the next.

But Bucky? He was still waiting for you to come back.

“I-I thought she disappeared, retired.” Bucky stutters at your memory.

“I found out where she lives now. And I planned on talking her into the group.” Sam looks down at the beer in his hand.

“I’m in.” Bucky says, but he’ll never be sure if he accepted because he wanted out of the political world or if he wanted another glimpse of you.

-------

“The house is supposed to be up the road.” Sam mutters, trying to find cel reception. But the two of them were so deep into the woods, it was almost impossible.

Bucky had always imagined you’d end up like this. Off the grid, living off your land. But in the dream, the two of you would be together. He’d spend the day cutting wood and harvesting whatever you’d grown, and you’d be deep into a hobby, spending your nights recounting your wild life.

They see an opening up the road, but as they come closer, their eyebrows knit together.

“This can’t be it.” Sam says under his breath.

A huge cabin, surrounded by pine trees, is the only thing around. There’s a big tree at the front of the cabin, with a tree house on one of its branches. A glittery pink bike on the lawn along with a replica of Mjolnir next to it.

Sam parks his truck and they both step out cautiously. Bucky looks around, wondering how the woman who used to scream at the sight of a spider could live here, all alone.

As they come closer to the front door, they hear rustling from the tree house.

Bucky nudges his friend’s shoulder. “There’s someone over here.”

Sam’s head whips just enough to see a pair of binoculars looking at them from the wooden window.

“Hello?” He calls out but there’s no answer.

“Do you live here?” Bucky asks, only to be slapped on the chest by his friend.

“You can’t ask that! It’s creepy!”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “How else am I supposed to get an answer if I don’t ask a question?”

But there's no response from the person inside the tree house. Instead, there's clanking and banging and before they even realize it, there's a little girl pointing a bow and arrow directly at them.

"State your name! Now!" She tries to look menacing but her outfit is too much for the two men to handle. Sky blue rain boots with a purple tutu, a Def Leppard t-shirt and heart shaped sunglasses.

"Oh my god." Sam immediately melts. "Aren't you the cutest little thing I've ever seen."

But the little girl doesn't fall for the Captain's words, she points the arrow directly at Sam. "Don't make me repeat my question, I know how to use this."

"Do you live with an adult? Your aunt, maybe?" Bucky's throat dries up as he asks the question. He knew you had siblings before you went into the crazy line of work that were the Avengers, and he begged that the little girl before him was theirs.

Bucky spent hours thinking about you on the way here. He'd been dreaming of seeing you again, thinking of what must have changed and what stayed the same. But he never thought there was a possibility you had moved on.

"Is your-" Bucky clears his throat. "Is your dad home?"

Sam eyes his partner. "Smooth."

The little girl walks backwards until her back bumps into the cabin's front door. "I'll call my daddy."

Bucky's heart stops. After years, he was still thinking of you whenever his eyes closed, and you, you were completely over him. Started a family with someone else.

"I'm sorry, Buck." Sam pats his back, immediately noticing the shift in his friend's eyes.

"S'okay." Bucky mutters, grinding his combat boot into the ground. "I'm not here for her, I'm here to assemble the team."

"I know, but-"

"I said I'm fine." Bucky snaps, running a hand through his shorter hair.

You'd begged him, for years, to cut his hair.

"I love your long hair," you'd once murmured against his lips. "But I also love how you looked during the Howling Commandos era."

"Era? You're making me sound more old than I am." Bucky smiled against your lips.

"I'm just saying, you could shorten it." Whenever you looked into his eyes, it made him feel like he was the only thing in the world.

"I thought you liked pulling my hair." Bucky flipped you on the bed, taking in your bubbling laughter.

The creaking sound of the cabin door brought him back to now. Bucky sucks in air, preparing to meet the man who is apparently so incredible that you decided to drop everything to be with him.

He has to be at last six feet. Well I'm 6 foot 1, on a good day. Bucky responds to his own thoughts. And he must be jacked. Not as jacked as me, I'm the fucking Winter Soldier for fucks sake! He must love her. Well I, I've loved her every day since I met her.

It feels like it takes hours for this mystery man to come out. The door opens slowly, only to reveal... You.

Bucky's knees buckle as your eyes meet his. You hadn't changed a lick, and if he didn't know better, he'd think that you were still his. Bucky's hands ball into fists at his side, needing a physical reminder to not reach out and hold you. Beg for your kisses. Tell you he doesn't care that you left, just as long as you take him back.

"Sam? Bucky?" Your voice trembles. "What are you doing here? How did you find me?"

The little girl pokes her head from behind your legs. "Mommy!"

"Mommy?" Sam and Bucky shriek at the same time.

"Attack them! Take them down!" Your daughter laughs.

"Young lady!" You scold.

But the little girl interrupts you, raising a chubby hand to stop your words. "I've already told you my name is Tashi Romanoff."

"Tashi, please, go upstairs and play. I need to talk to them for a moment. In private." You enunciate your last two words, knowing they were her least favorite words in the world.

"Fine," she huffs, turning on her heels. But not before taking off her rain boots and heart shaped sunglasses to reveal a pair of striking eyes. Clear blue with a steel ring surrounding her iris. Bucky's brows furrow as he catches a glimpse of Tashi's eyes, almost the same exact shade as the one he sports.

"W-wai-She's-" Bucky stutters out, not being able to comprehend what just happened.

"Tashi, huh?" Sam raises his eyebrows.

"Yeah, she’s going through a phase where she refuses to be called by her name," you close the door behind you. "Auntie Nat came to visit us during the blip and she just latched on to her."

"W-was her dad blipped?" Bucky tries to act normal but his heart is beating out of his chest.

"Her dad isn't in the picture." You cross your arms. "She was a surprise."

"So-uh-so that means." Bucky points between him and the house. Not being able to get the words out. "There's no way that."

"She's not yours, Barnes." You roll your eyes at your ex boyfriend.

"But she-her eyes." He blinks.

"There are a lot of guys with blue eyes out there." You let out a light laugh. It was strangely easy for you to slip into how things were, teasing and sharing laughs was the base of your relationship with Bucky. But now, so much time has passed, and you're definitely not the same person you were back then.

"What are you guys doing here?" You look down at the floor as you ask the question.

"Someone out there has created a mind controlling substance that puts everyone in danger. And we need to stop him. We found his lab and we got some of the vials but we need your help taking him down." Sam says but you're shaking your head before he even has time to finish. "I want to form a group. The world needs us again."

"Look, Sam, I appreciate you going through all the trouble to find me but, as you can see, I have other priorities now." You look back into the house through the window to find your daughter peeking through the window.

"But-" Bucky speaks up but you stop him.

"You guys can stay the night if you'd like," you say, looking at the darkening sky. "But I'm not going back. There's a reason I left that life."

Bucky bites his tongue to stop himself from asking you what that reason was.

"Thanks for letting us stay." Sam smiles as he passes the threshold of your home.

You never thought this day would come. Seeing your daughter run around your back yard with one of your best friends.

“She’s beautiful.” Bucky comes to stand next to you, but you only hum in agreement. Words seemingly disappeared from your mind the second his scent wafted closer to you. Sandalwood and fire, clean linens with a dash of something else. So masculine, so protective. So incredibly, Bucky.

“How old is she?” He asks.

“Don’t do this to yourself.” You take a deep breath in, letting him coat your lungs.

“I just want to know.” Bucky tries to act innocently. He dissects every trait he can tell comes from you, but the rest, they look awfully similar to him. Tashi’s nose has the same bump as his and her eyes crinkle just like Bucky’s when she smiles.

“Faking was never your forte.” You smile. “She’s not your daughter Bucky.”

“Bucky.” He repeats his name like it hurts him to say. “You never used to call me that.”

“Well, I used to call you baby but I wouldn’t want Tashi to start asking questions about who my other baby is.”

Bucky lets out a laugh, it’s a low grumble that shakes his ribs. It’s been so long since he felt this peace. “I missed this,” he lets the words slip out.

“I missed this too.” You say, barely above a whisper, stopping yourself before you say that you missed him. But you did.

Every day since you left, you thought of Bucky. Of the way he used to hold you so tenderly and the kisses he gave you at night. Of how he said I love you and made it sound like the only words that existed.

But all those memories were of the past, your life before Tashi came in. And you should keep them like that.

-----

The moonlight is the only thing that illuminates Bucky as he wanders around the cabin. He didn't mean to lurk but he'd woken up from a nightmare.

Your home was different than he imagined. A lot more stuffed animals and toys and less trinkets from your past life. There were a couple of pictures here and there but they were mostly of Tashi and you.

"What are you doing up?" Bucky jumps up at the sound of her squeaky voice.

Tashi looks up at him with those goddamned eyes. They looked so much like his, it was concerning.

"I-I couldn't sleep." Bucky rubs the back of his neck.

"Do you have nightmares?" She asks so innocently. If only she knew the things he dreamed of. "I have them too."

"You do?" Bucky whispers, making her nod her little head.

"Mommy usually helps be back to sleep but I don't want to wake her up." Tashi brings a finger to her mouth, motioning for the Sergeant to keep quiet. "Don't tell her I woke up, promise?"

"Promise." Bucky brings out his pinky, wrapping it around her little finger. "I'll let you in on a little secret of mine."

Tashi's blue eyes widen, urging him to go on.

"You may not know about me but, there was a time your Mommy helped me with my nightmares." Bucky smiles at the memory.

"I know about you, silly goose." Tashi covers her giggles with her hand.

"You do?"

She nods, holding her hand out and taking him to her playroom. Sitting Bucky in an incredibly small chair. "You're the boy from my book!"

Tashi places in his hands a hand sewn felt book. The characters were a bit wonky but Bucky could immediately spot himself in the fabric.

"You're the boy with the heart of gold and the arm of steel." She says, proudly pointing to the book.

"The boy with the heart of gold and the arm of steel would save anyone, especially the people he loved," Bucky read his description on the book. "People around the world misjudged him, but that didn't stop him from being good. He proved them all wrong."

"You're my favorite character," Tashi smiles wide. "Don't tell Uncle Sam."

"Your secret is safe with me." Bucky lets out a watery smile, setting the book down on the floor. "How about you go up to your room and I can tell you a story about your mom."

"Really?" Tashi jumps up.

"Only if you promise to try and go to sleep again." Bucky raises his eyebrow, trying to appear strong but the little girl already had him wrapped around her finger.

"Under one condition," Tashi crosses her arms. "I can go outside and get my Natasha figurine."

Bucky bites down on his lip. "It's quite late to go outside."

"Please?" She pouts. "It'll only take a second."

God she looks so much like you.

"Fine." Bucky gives in. "But I'll be watching by the door, can't let you go outside all alone."

The super soldier walks behind the little girl, watching as she runs outside and sifts through the grass.

Bucky should have known something was wrong, he should have heard them lurking in the bushes. But he was too distracted by her, too distracted by the idea that this could have been his life. That in some multiverse, Tashi was his daughter and he could've retired next to the love of his life.

But he didn't. And it was too late once he realized what was happening.

Tens of agents dressed in black closed in on the cabin, running onto the property. Tashi was the first thing they grabbed.

He heard her yell out his name, but it happened in slow motion.

"No!" Bucky screamed, running towards the man who kidnapped her. "Let her go!"

Tashi's red splotched eyes was the last thing Bucky saw before they crammed her into a black van and left down the only road. His feet burned as he ran behind them, but not even Bucky was able to catch up to them.

Once he came back to the cabin, Sam and you were running around trying to understand what happened.

"I'm sorry." Bucky lets the tears run down his face. "I couldn't stop them."

You dropped to the floor with a sob.

Bucky's knees finally gave out. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry- We're going to get her back, I promise that I'll get her back."

Authors note: hi hiiii omg I went a little bit overboard with this one. It's been a looooong time since I wrote something this long. I hope y'all like it! Xx

Taglist: @aoi-targaryen @whoreforbarnes @ironwinnerwonderland @oikarma @ellabellabunny123

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