#mads cho : threads.

[sorrymcm]

tag drop : muses pt. 3

[vid-writes]

Choso x F!Y/N

This story is not for anyone under the age of 18

Contents: Choso as a close friend, spontaneous sex, crying during sex, forced orgasms, cursed manipulation to keep him erect

"Don't you owe me a drink this time?" You asked Choso as he settled underneath the blanket of the kotatsu table in your living room. He arched an eyebrow at you as he sipped his water.

"No idea what you mean," he muttered as the introduction to the movie started. You made to grab the remote, but he snatched it up before you got to it. On instinct, you dove over the table to take the remote back, but he held it higher. You were oblivious to how your long shirt hiked up as you stretched to reach the remote.

He pushed you away with a hand on your cheek as you tried to stand and gain the high ground over him. This motion resulted in you bent over backward on the table as your hips pushed against his abs. Heat filled his cheeks as you writhed against him, still trying to get the remote. Frustration boiled in your veins until his hand slid down your throat and then between your breasts. You stilled as his pale fingers skimmed over your stomach as you held still.

"I've never seen you like this," he said softly. "So riled up you don't even notice the incredibly lewd position that your actions have put us in." Choso's fingers stopped just above where your shirt had ridden up to showcase your pink granny panties. "I guess it's lucky for me that I forgot our bet from last movie night," he continued. "Now I have the very woman who made me learn what my cock was doing sitting on my lap, showcasing her very adorable panties to me."

"Choso," you whimpered as his fingers trailed along the hem of your shirt.

"Should I stop?" He asked. You shook your head as his eyes stared into your soul.

"Please keep going," you nearly panted as his fingers skimmed along the hem of your panties. "I've wanted this for so long, Cho- please don't stop."

A feral grin graced Choso's face as his fingers pushed into your panties. A gasp left both of your lips as his fingers grazed over your bare pussy. You shaved once a month because the hair down there always bothered you, and as luck would have it, last night was your designated night to whack the weeds.

His calloused fingers grazed down your slit as his gaze remained fixed on yours, studying your every reaction to what he was doing. When a moan slipped from your throat as you writhed on the table beneath his hands, Choso spoke, "I know real sex is nothing like porn, but I did watch some, and I read books, so I have a pretty good idea of how to make you feel good."

"You studied up for me?" You asked.

His response was to circle his finger over your clit in slow and lazy circles. Your hips bucked up into his hand as he idly toyed with the bundle of nerves. Pleasure burst through your nerves as his other hand pushed your shirt up your body. Your breasts, free of a bra, spilled out right away, and his eyes lit up like you'd never seen before. He shifted himself forward and flipped his hand around to continue to stroke your clit in those agonizing circles as his mouth closed around one of your nipples.

As Choso continued to pleasure you, your fingers found the bands in his hair that kept it up in those silly pom-poms you loved and tugged them out. His fluffy hair spilled into your fingers as his tongue laved over your nipple slowly.

"Choso, that feels so wonderful," you drawled as his mouth moved to your other breast. Your fingers threaded into his unruly curls as his fingers picked up their pace on your clit. Raw need throbbed through you as his languid speed was starting to drive you mad.

"I'm going to make you feel wonderful over every inch of your body," he purred as he slowly kissed up your throat. His free hand traced down the inside of your arms, spreading goosebumps in its wake.

Your fingers tugged at his hair more as he slid one finger down to your entrance and slowly pushed it inside. You moaned louder as his finger moved in and out of you slowly as his other hand continued to graze up the insides of your arms alternately. His lips finally collided with yours as an orgasm finally snapped from all of the taunting. The odd taste of iron and heat filled your mouth as his tongue pushed between your lips. You knew his curse technique would make things different about him, but his taste wasn't one you had expected.

He sat back long enough to pull off his shirt, and the sight of Choso's delicious abs made your mouth water. Your fingers grazed over them slowly as he leaned forward to claim your mouth with his again. As his tongue explored your mouth, you allowed your fingers to dip below the waistband of his loose white pants and were greeted with the heat of his bare skin. You gasped at his smoothness against your hand, and he growled. His teeth tugged your bottom lip through them slowly as you palmed his length.

His lips left yours to trail down your neck as his cock twitched and grew longer in your hand.

"You're doing that on purpose, aren't you?" you asked as Choso licked slowly back up your neck.

"Maybe I am," he whispered in your ear as his cock twitched and grew again. You could barely fit your hand around it and could tell without looking that the tip was peeking out of the top of his pants.

"You can't possibly think all of that will fit," you gasped out as his teeth tugged at your earlobe.

"It will," he purred as he pushed a second finger inside of your soaked hole. You arched up into him as much as you could, being trapped between him and the table. His hands grabbed your hips and pushed you up onto the table until your ass rested on the edge closest to him. You whined as his cock left your reach and his fingers left your pussy.

"For now, I need to know how you taste. It's been torture being able to smell when you're aroused but not being able to devour you. Now I'm rectifying that situation," Choso said before tugging your panties down and off in one swift motion.

Choso's strong hands gripped your thighs almost hard enough to bruise and pulled your legs open wide. Heat flared in his eyes as that thick black line across his nose and cheeks changed shape. Before you could fully register the new form of his markings, he leaned forward and ran his nose up the length of your slit while inhaling deeply. He groaned with hunger before licking up your slit deeply and slowly like he wanted to relish in every moment between your legs. His fingers palmed your breasts as his tongue wasted no time in finding your clit. Choso licked slow and deep into your folds as his fingers rolled your nipples between them.

"That feels amazing, Cho," you moaned out as your fingers found purchase in his unruly curls again as he sucked your clit into his mouth. Keening sounds erupted from your throat as he bit down on your clit and sucked harder. You pulled his hair harder as he tugged on your clit and nipples at the same time. The building pleasure in your stomach snapped, and you nearly screamed as you came on his face. His tongue continued to flick your clit as wave after wave of the orgasm rattled through your body.

"Holy fuck," you managed to say once you finally came down from the high of orgasmic bliss. He chuckled against your folds as he pushed his tongue into your soaked entrance and started to fuck you with it. Choso's tongue continued to fuck into your pussy as he scratched down your stomach slowly. When the pleasure snapped for the second time, you felt tears well up in your eyes as your come spilled onto his tongue.

Choso hauled you into his lap before he stood up to carry you to your bedroom. His mouth trailed wet kisses up your neck as he moved the two of you through the apartment. Painful pleasure sparked from your clit as the throbbing head of his cock brushed against your sensitive clit.

When your back hit the bed, Choso wasted no time removing the rest of your clothes and his. When his naked body was flush against yours, anxiety bubbled in your stomach. The size of his cock resting between your thighs and against your stomach made you nervous because you weren't sure if it would fit.

As if he could read your mind, he whispered in your ear, "I will take my time making it fit."

His hips pulled back, and then the massive head of his cock pushed against your aching pussy entrance. Fear was replaced by pleasure as he pushed in the first inch and claimed your mouth with his own again. His unique taste of iron mixed with your come made you moan as his tongue invaded your mouth. Choso pushed forward another inch as his hands palmed your breasts again.

Pleasure sparked up your spine again as you felt him throb rhythmically, thanks to his curse technique. All of the overwhelming allowed for him to push over halfway in before you realized it. One of your hands grabbed his bicep as the other tangled in his hair again. You enjoyed playing with his messy curls as he pulled back out almost to the tip and groaned loudly in your ear.

"I lied," he groaned again. "I cannot take this slowly."

With that, he pushed inside of you in one slow, continuous thrust that felt like a small eternity. When he settled against you, he stilled. Choso slowly pulled back out until only the head of his cock remained inside of you.

And then he set his pace of fast but gentle thrusts that had your fingers curling into his hair and biceps more. His mouth closed on your right breast as his hand squeezed the other. Pleasure built tighter in your stomach as his cock felt like it was pushing into the spot where it built.

"Harder, please, Cho," you whined as his teeth and fingers pulled at your nipples.

He obliged as he drove his cock harder into your cervix. When the third orgasm exploded through you, a scream escaped your throat. Choso pounded you through the orgasm before he stilled and spilled his load inside of you.

"I probably should have asked first," he panted as he stayed still.

"It's fine, I have an implant," you croaked out as he kissed your cheek. His hips slowly pulled back before slowly driving in again.

"Can you take more? My erection won't stop until I will it to," he said as he pulled out again.

"I'll take as much as you decide to give to me, Choso. I've wanted this from the moment you showed up on my doorstep half bloody from that fight," you murmured as you traced your fingers down his back.

"That's so good to hear," he replied.

His hips pulled back again, and then he resumed his original pace. Choso's cock pounded into your cervix as one hand gathered your wrists and then pinned them above you. A feral grin graced his face as he fucked into you harder and faster. The punishing pace on your cervix made you tear up before you came again. You let out a sob of pleasure as he fucked you through your orgasm yet again.

"Cry for me," he crooned. His other hand slid down to your clit and began rubbing it in deep and fast circles. Another orgasm ripped through you before you could fully come down from the first one, and tears ran down your face. The dots on his nose shifted into a thicker line across his cheekbones as he came in you again without stopping his relentless pounding.

"Cho, that hurts so well," you sobbed out as his hand left yours on the pillows and closed around your throat instead.

"That's a good, pretty girl," he purred. "You're such a beautiful fucking wreck for me right now." His hips picked up speed yet again, and you came yet again.

The tears flowed freely down your cheeks as he continued to punish your cervix and torment your clit. You had never felt so free as you did right now. Choso squeezed the sides of your throat a bit tighter, and your head swam from the lack of oxygen. Pleasure continued to build and snap as you came unexpectedly over and over again. When he came again, he stopped moving to wipe the tears from your face and then kiss where the trail had been.

"I've had enough for now," he panted. "Let's take a break, and then I'm going to pound your brains out again."

"That sounds like a good plan," you sniffled.

He pulled out, and you watched as his cock shrank back down quickly and slowly stopped glowing red. With ease, Choso hauled your back to his chest and pulled the blanket over the two of you. His mouth trailed kisses along your shoulder as you settled into his warmth.

"Can we do this as often as possible?" He asked.

"Fuck yes, we can," you giggled.

Buy me a coffee?

[irresistiibles]

this event is lowkey my child so i am super excited! i will be away for a few days of it since i'm flying to seattle on the 20th and coming back the 25th but i'll still have my computer and am optimistic i can still get a lot done. with that said beneath the cut is a starter/plot call! i am capping it at 4 per character and per mun, though if there is something you really want to do i may be able to expand. feel free to like to plot or just reply with what starters you want and i'll make it happen. definitely let me know who you want it from and for cause i hate making decisions. finally, though i'll still write this week i will probably be dropping pre-event threads once it actually starts. you can find a condensed post with the starters i owe HERE.

amber - went in willingly - open to death and injury

amber definitely wandered in here with lumine thinking it was something exciting. all things considered she's still kinda intrigued even being stuck within the maze. they'll be helping people out, and be a bit concerned, but in a still upbeat and cheery way. can bring good energy to people who need it

starters (2/4) - gnudy, eula lawrence

asami sato - went in willingly - open to injury and maybe death

to say she went in by choice isn't entirely accurate. her girlfriend wanted to go in and asami wasn't going to let her just wander in alone. asami is freaked out but also a little used to weird stuff, and does have a gun with her. another one who will be helpful as needed.

starters (0/4)

ciel phantomhive - was forced in by magic - open to injury

yeah he's not the type to go in a corn maze even if it didn't just pop up over night, unless he has to and has his demon butler with him. since neither of things were true ciel had no intention of going anywhere near the maze and he's very unhappy to wind up there. he's not a great fighter and tires quickly, he's got a weapon he barely knows how to use, and will be trying his best to keep himself alive. he could probably use some help, though he would be the type to turn on others to save himself

starters (2/4) - lizzie midford, blaine anderson

columbina - was forced in by magic - open to injury

she probably found the whole idea intriguing but from a distance. she's not the type to get mad or upset even in the worst of situations, and honestly would not blame anyone wandering the maze who saw her creepy ass just sort of humming along as she goes and assumed she was a monster to fight.

starters (2/4) - alcina dimitrescu, henry creel

esther mckinnon - went in willingly - open to death and injury

honestly i think she entered just a tiny bit before the maze forced people in, her curiosity finally getting the better of her. esther is fully unaware, does not know how to use her magic, and is basically hoping to get by on good energy and a bottle of pepper spray. she could realistically use some help because otherwise she's not getting far here.

starters (3/4) - ethan mckinnon, marlene mckinnon, emmeline vance

glinda upland - was forced in by magic - open to injury and maybe death

yeah corn mazes are too outside in the dirt for her to have ever come in on her own. glinda is also not really a fighter, and only knows how to mostly use her magic to make defensive bubbles around herself. she's having a horrible time, probably is stuck there in heels, and really really wants to go home

starters (2/4) - cho chang, sella palpatine

gu zi - was forced in to magic - open to injury

i think he would consider going in but is a bit of a coward. if someone wants to say that they dragged him in though i would be happy to plot it. he's confused, scared, unhappy, and being a general cry baby about it. he is just absolutely not built for this please help.

starters (1/4) : sherlock holmes

inej ghafa - was forced in by magic dragged in by jesper - open to injury

no way in hell inej was entering a weird randomlly appearing corn maze of all things, and she's unhappy to have wound up here despite that fact. went in with jesper thinking it would be some quick childish thing and now here she is. she is pretty good at keeping herself safe, and her main priority is trying to find her friends, but she might help out others along the way.

starters (2/4) : kaz brekker, aelin galathynius

jin ling - went in willingly - open to death and injury

i was going to say he was forced in before i remembered jin ling is so good at walking into the worst situations ever without even thinking about it!! he's reckless and does not think and by the time he thought to hesitate going into this thing it was too late. he's also unaware so while he remembers some self defense skills his ability to fight is not nearly as good as it should be and he could be in a little trouble

starters (1/4) - nie ruizhi

lily evans - went in willingly - open to injury

unfortunately she and james were worried they were boring adults and decided to go explore in the worst way possible and now here they are. fortunately she is pretty decent with magic and self defense and is very used to the city's bullshit. her priorities and seeing if she can locate any of her friends and get the heck out of there but she will go and help others where she can.

starters (3/4) : lily luna potter, harriet hufflepuff, rubeus hagrid

luo qingyang (mianmian) - was forced in by magic - open to injury

she's so tired of this shit!! she kinda just wants to find a portion of the maze to camp in and roast some corn so people are welcome to join her for that plan because her desire to just wait this out is real. can fight and will try to help people however she can but god give her a break

starters (0/4)

madoka kaname - went in willingly - open to injury

another one who unfortunately just tends to walk into danger without thinking it through honestly. she probably thought it was just a surprise corn maze from the city and now here we are!! literally no way to defend herself beyond running and the worst right hook you've ever seen in your life and that will not stop her from throwing herself in danger to help others.

starters (1/4) - homura akemi

mei nianqing - was forced in by magic - open to injury and maybe death

this old man was not going to go anywhere near the corn maze!!! absolutely not are you kidding me! he's just trying to get back out again, though he was give (unwanted) advice to everyone he sees in a way that could maybe be considered helpful.

starters (0/4)

nico di angelo - was forced in by magic - open to injury

he knows a magic trap when he sees one and corn maze magically appearing reeks of magic trap. he's very capable of defending himself and even controlling some of the monsters wandering around so he can be a big help if you find him. though he's also very aware of death around him and may be feeling shitty because of how all too aware he will be of everyone dying in the maze.

starters (2/4) - bianca di angelo, hazel lavesque

nie huaisang - was forced in by magic - open to injury and maybe death

will be loudly crying until he finds someone who will help him through this whole thing! is also not mentally stable enough for any of this and may be very on edge!! be cautious around him i don't know what to expect from him so you shouldn't have any clue either.

starters (3/4) - jin guangyao, mo xuanyu, lan wangji

pearl - was forced in by magic

this is not pearl's scene at all but she is also very competent as a fighter and will probably be okay. she will be stressed rambling the whole time and stressing out everyone else around her as a result so there's that, but if you can deal with that she will be offering help. only one not really open to injury just because she's very hard to injure, but will happily involve her in someone else's injury or death plot

starters (2/4) - patch cipriano, dean winchester

princess zelda - was forced in by magic - open to injury

extremely confused and unhappy and stressed! zelda hates things she doesn't understand, and isn't much of a fighter, with only a little self defense training. she'll manage well in some of the more trap/survival areas but is going to have a very hard time dealing with monsters in the maze

starters (1/4) - patia por'co

roronoa zoro - went in willingly? - open to injury

i say he went in willingly but that's not entirely true. i'm so sure zoro was trying to head home one day and just wandered in to the maze by mistake, and now has been stuck there for an extra day. he is luckily very good at fighting and surviving, but his sense of direction is absolutely horrible so please!! help him out! also might start fights with other people because like, he just assumes anyone who looks a little strange or dangerous could be a monster. he's a mess

starters (1/4) - nami

shang qinghua - was forced in by magic - open to injury and maybe death

he knows a setup when he sees one! if anyone is capable of breaking the fourth wall of rp it would be shang qinghua who absolutely knew the corn maze could mean nothing but trouble and stayed away from it as long as possible. he's doing his best but is an every man for himself type of guy unless you're one of the rare people he likes and he will trip others to get away from monsters.

starters (1/4) - shen qingqiu

shi qingxuan - went in willingly - open to injury and maybe death

unfortunately qingxuan was probably out drinking with some friends who thought it would be fun to check out the random corn maze and now here they are! so unhappy! so stressed! so screwed!! trying to help out here and there despite everything but i cannot promise any actual useful help here. if anything she is the one who desperately needs assistance.

starters (1/4) - samara palpatine

toph beifong - was forced in by magic - open to injury

toph, who can use their seismic sense to see blocks of areas at a time and noticed the way the maze was constantly shifting and changing immediately definitely got in here only to immediately turn to anyone nearby and hit them with "well, maze is fucked." she'll be fine despite that tbh and will probably wind up having some fun fighting things, but isn't even trying to get out because she knows that's kinda impossible until whatever magic shit is happening stops, and will tell others this is the case

starters (1/4) - katara

wirt - was forced in by magic - open to injury

just went from one autumn themed horror show to another and is extremely unhappy about it!! hopeful that maybe his brother is somehow somewhere in this maze but he's not feeling good about it. extremely anxious but powering through to the best of his ability. he can't fight but he is relatively smart and he really wants out of this maze!! so if that means working with others that is absolutely fine by him

starters (2/4) - dani dennison, marco del rossi

yin yu - was forced in by magic - open to injury and non memory changing death

so tired. so so tired. he's got a shovel for a weapon, the energy of a sad thirty year old who has given up on improving his life, and is just sort of trudging through accepting that this is the next shit show in his never ending list of ls in life. he tries to be a good guy, he'll help out where he can, but if there is a vibe check he is not passing it

starters (0/4)

zagreus - went in willingly - open to injury and non memory changing death

he's excited! he hasn't gotten to experience many human halloween's and walked straight in and honestly, has not entirely realized there's something wrong with the situation. he likes fighting, he spent a chunk of his life escaping a maze like underworld, so he's having fun and feeling right at home. will help people out but will also be chuckling the whole time about what a cool event this is and how nice it is for the city to do it.

starters (1/4) : drusilla keeble

zhongli - went in willingly - open to injury and maybe death

this man is unfortunately the case of curiosity killed the cat. he knew it was probably a bad idea and walked in anyway! he's regretting it for sure since unaware zhongli can barely fight compared to aware zhongli, but he does have a level head and a very smart way of thinking, so he'll be getting by and repressing his emotions so he doesn't have to feel shaken until he escapes somehow

starters (1/4) - rowena ravenclaw

[imawholeassmood]

I will love you, always

early holiday gift for everyone celebrating alone or wishing for the day when they can make their own traditions. Part 3 of cat lena... AO3

part 1 | part 2

“How did I let you talk me into this?”

Kara tugs the final strap of the blue puff vest and steps away from Lena, who sits irritated on the table.

“What?” Kara says and pouts. “This was your idea.”

“Flying, yes. Not this. This is humiliating.”

The look Lena throws at her might have been intimidating if Kara wasn’t so smitten. She cups Lena’s face with both hands, black fur poking out between her fingers, and draws their noses together. Several kisses and ear rubs later, she steps back and admires her work.

“This is to keep you safe,” she says, “and warm.”

Lena moves first, her back arching towards the ceiling and her legs stiffening when the door to Kara’s apartment opens. Kara’s shoulders slump in relief when Alex walks through, a duffle bag in hand.

“Hey, Kar, I came to drop off some of Esme’s things for the weekend. Thanks, again, for watching her. Kelly and I really need a,” her voice trails off and she drops the bag on the floor. “Do I want to know what’s happening here?”

“I’m taking Lena flying,” Kara says and scoops Lena into her arms. She drops a kiss on the top of her head. “I even have a harness so I can strap her on.”

“Oh my god. I’m never coming over here again without calling first.” Alex steps back over the duffle bag and through the open front door. “Kelly will bring Esme by after school. Please don’t repeat that to her. Bye!”

And, just like that, they’re alone again.

“Oh,” Kara says with a full-faced smile, “can’t forget your goggles!”

***

“Aunt Lena,” Esme says while petting Lena who sits next to her on the couch, “how come you’re still a cat?”

On the other side of the sofa, Kara crosses her arms and huffs.

“Oh, um,” Lena says and looks at Kara before ducking her head, “I put an extra protection spell on me before we went flying today. It’s preventing me from shifting back, but it’ll wear off soon.”

Esme perks up at the mention of flying. “Can I go flying with you, Aunt Kara?”

Unable to resist the smile Esme throws her way, Kara softens, but not without tossing another shady glare to Lena first. “Sorry, kiddo,” she says, “I promised your moms I’d keep your feet on the ground this weekend.”

The pop pop pop from the kitchen draws everyone’s attention and Kara stands from the sofa. “Looks like the popcorn’s almost ready. Who’s excited to make decorations?”

For her part, Lena does try to help. She plucks kernels from the bowl on the coffee table and drops them in front of Kara and Esme who thread them onto strings. It takes three slow head dips and tentative releases from her teeth for Kara to forget she’s upset at Lena for casting an extra protection spell before they went flying. Even if Lena worried Kara might collide with an unskilled bird or be attacked by a rogue storm cloud or crash into a misplaced billboard, she had to have known that Kara would never drop her. The jacket, goggles, and harness were supposed to be all the reassurance Lena needed that she’d always be safe in Kara’s arms. But looking at her girlfriend now, as she places another piece of popcorn on the table in front of her, looking up at her with her big, green eyes, Kara understands that sometimes life doesn’t go according to plan, no matter how much you prepare.

Lena steps back from the proffered kernel and sits on her hind legs, curling her tail around herself. It’s then Kara knows. She’s looking at the face, one of them, anyway, of the only being in any universe who’s ever been the easy choice for her. No matter what situation they found themselves in, Kara never doubted her decision to choose Lena. She chose her when she was the resident Luthor no one wanted to believe was good. She chose her when she was mad at Supergirl, but still creating anti-kryptonite suits and fighting side-by-side with her against world-killers. She chose her when she lost herself in a fog of hurt. And she chose her when there was nothing left between them, only raw exposure of who they each are.

And now, Kara loved her. Every version of her. Every form of her. And although human Lena is her preference, Kara can’t deny her heart grows a size every time she shifts into her feline form, especially not when she’s looking at her with those pleading eyes and her down-turned ears and her fur is extra fluffy from the static of the blanket and the tip of her tail flicks just so.

She’s wrapped in Kara’s arms and resting against her chest before her cat reflexes know what’s happening. Lena rubs her face against Kara’s chin and purrs into her with her whole body.

“Aunt Lena, you’re so silly,” Esme says with a laugh.

Kara freezes, worried their display of affection might have crossed some line Alex would surely have liked for them to go nowhere near, but Lena licks her cheek and reassures her that snuggling with a cat is perfectly appropriate to do in front of a child. Even still, Lena jumps down from Kara’s chest, returns to the table, and paws at the string of popcorn.

“Shall we put some of this on the tree and see how it looks?” she asks. Kara watches the pile of strung-up popcorn nudge closer to the edge of the table with each poke from Lena’s paw until she bats the whole thing off the table in one swoop. Lena looks so shocked she searches Kara and Esme’s faces to see if either of them witnessed what just happened.

“Yeah! Let’s hang the decorations.” There’s nothing like a child’s excitement to put ornaments on a tree to distract from the fact that Lena is stuck as a cat.

It doesn’t take long to realize just how inconvenient that state of being is for decorating. Or as distracting, counter-productive, and chaotic. Kara picks up another bulb ornament from the floor and looks around at the growing spread of fallen pine needles.

“Lena,” she says with a contented smile, “if you’re going to play in the tree, can you at least not swot the fancy ornaments.”

When Kara stands, she spots two glowing eyes hidden amongst the branches. There’s not a single speck of remorse in them. She shakes her head and bites back her smile.

“Can I put the star on top?” Esme holds up the Star of David tree topper and Kara picks her up to place it at the top of the haphazardly decorated tree.

Lena thumps onto the ground, weaves herself through Kara’s legs, and looks up at the finished product. “Exactly which holiday are we celebrating?”

Kara chuckles. “All of them. Perks of being a member of the Olsen-Danvers-Zor-El family, right kiddo?” She holds Esme against her hip. “Looks pretty darn good to me. How about a story before bed? We can read something from Lena’s collection: ‘Bedtime Stories for Cats.’”

Lena falls asleep before Esme, passed out against Kara’s chest.

***

“Hi, sweetheart,” Kelly says and crouches down to catch the child running towards her, “did you have fun with your aunts this weekend?” Kara observes their interaction and the thought crosses her mind that Alex meant what she said about not coming over again without calling ahead first. Kelly turns towards her, “where’s Lena?”

Esme lets out a laugh and Kara draws her finger to her lips. She nods towards the kitchen and watches as Kelly’s eyes follow to the dining table where a paw pokes out of the top of the glass vase followed by what can only be assumed are muffled curses.

Kara answers Kelly’s unasked question, “she wouldn’t let me help her.”

“Well,” Kelly says and checks her watch, “I’m sorry we can’t stay longer, but I’m meeting Alex at the clinic to get this one her checkup. Thank you so much for watching her. We’ll call you later to catch up.” They exchange hugs and Kelly slings the duffle over her shoulder. “Bye Lena,” she calls on her way out the door, “love you both.”

Kara meanders over to the dining table where she rests an elbow on the table and props her chin in her hand. By now, Lena managed to twist herself enough to get her head out of the top of the vase. She gives Kara a resigned look and slides to freedom when Kara tips the vase over.

Instead of the puffed-up chest and denial of embarrassment Kara expects, Lena turns away from her and sits at the edge of the table with her head ducked. Her words come out soft enough Kara strains to hear.

“It wasn’t because I don’t trust you,” Lena says. She curls her tail around herself and Kara wants nothing more than to scoop her up and cover her with kisses.

“I know,” is all she manages.

“Because I do trust you,” Lena turns towards her, “and I know you would do anything to keep me safe, but Kara.”

It’s too much. Kara moves around the table and brings their noses together. She runs a hand along Lena’s back which results in a wave of arches that brings Lena to a standing position. They lock eyes and Lena speaks again.

“I can’t have you sacrificing yourself for me,” she says with so much sincerity it stings Kara’s eyes with the swell of tears. “You’re going to be around for a long time, and I need to know that I can protect myself so I can stay around as long as possible without putting you in danger.” A tear escapes Kara’s eye and Lena tilts to lift a paw and pad it away. “El mayarah.”

***

It’s the best way to wake up, Kara decides, with Lena’s hair in her face. When her first conscious breath draws in the scent of her favorite creation. Every inhale tickles her chest and fills her with happiness. Lena vibrates against her as she hums in half-awake bliss.

Kara reciprocates the press of soft lips against hers, and when they’re free again they let slip the words she’s been thinking since Lena placed the last piece of popcorn in front of her.

“Marry me,” she says against Lena’s forehead. Lena’s full-body purr pulsates through her and the sensation is so great she almost misses Lena’s acceptance.

[kdramacrybaby]

Sisyphus: The Myth (2021)

Genre: Sci-fi, Action, Mystery, Dystopian

Synopsis: Han Tae-sul, a genius engineer and millionaire, barely survives a plane crash. While trying to investigate how the plane crashed, he uncovers a mysterious suitcase, which seems to have appeared out of nowhere. From there, chaos seems to follow him no matter where he goes, and eventually, he meets Gang Seo-hae, a woman who saves his life. She has come from a different time with a mission that she is willing to sacrifice everything for. And remember, the important thing is not where, but when.

Episode info: 16 episodes / Runtime around 60 minutes

Lead cast: Cho Seung-woo (Han Tae-sul), Park Shin-hye (Gang Seo-hae), Chae Jong-hyeop (Choi Jae-sun), Sung Dong-il (Park Hyeong-do), Heo Joon-seok (Han Tae-san)

Link to watch: You can watch on Netflix or Dramacool

Drama rec masterlist | Drama rant thread (beware of spoilers)

,Right off the bat, this drama gave me serious Memories of the Alhambra vibes, which I love!

And the second thing I noticed was how gorgeous the drama was (with my very limited knowledge); the coloring, the way they shot it, I loved it. There were multiple times when I took notice of how smooth the camerawork/directing was, especially during the action scenes, where it can quickly become several cuts per second. I don't know much about directing and camerawork, but I feel like this was just superb. Definitely wouldn't have been as good a drama if they didn't have that flow.

After the first episode, I was super confused, but also intrigued, and I wanted to know more. And it was like that all throughout the drama. They tell you the bare minimum of what you need to know, and then expect you to connect all the dots yourself. Later on, they do catch you up to speed, but then add on another layer that has you questioning everything all over again.

They tell the story in a sort of spiral circle, where every once in a while, we end up back at a sort of checkpoint where we are now caught up, only to realize that everything has actually changed. I loved it! I feel like it was the type of storytelling that Eternal Monarch was trying to do, but they failed in my opinion. Especially with the rules they set.

With time travel (which I am usually the first to turn off when it happens on a show, I hate it), you have to be so careful with how you handle the story and the changes it would make. But I really do feel like this drama set some rules that could make sense and then followed them all throughout the story. If I did get mad at some points, they eventually explained it, and it would make sense.

Also, warning time: This does get a bit dark, and deals with death and suicidal thoughts later in the drama.

And finally, I love love love Gang Seo-hae. A badass female lead who likes pink flowers and plushies, kicking ass and taking names with her glitter-decorated gun? Yes, please! She's seen and experienced the horrors of the world and can very well take care of herself in a dystopian future where you have to kill to survive, but she is still just a young woman at heart who likes theme parks and pop music.

There was one thing where I was legitimately disappointed in this drama, but that had nothing to do with the plot; the amount of BTS placements in the dystopian future really threw me off the story. Usually, I can ignore product placements, but this was so blatantly out of place and I just... ugh, why?!

If you're into sci-fi and time travel, you are going to love this!

[sol1056]

What are your overall thoughts on Castlevania season 3? So far the season, particularly the last two episodes (especially the 9th episode), have been controversial.

Well, that penultimate episode definitely put me in mind of the famous quote…

Obiwan: “I feel a great disturbance in the force…”

Half of which was probably screams into the void over this seeming betrayal, and the other half was shrieks in delight about confirmed OT3 potential.

On a more serious note, I’ve got a bunch of asks about S3, so I’m covering them all in this one response, because my thoughts come down to one thing.

This season was all about trust.

If we can consider this season (much like S1) to be setup, these episodes are for getting characters into the places and mindsets that the following act will require. So whatever we get in S4, it’ll require that Sypha be accustomed to Trevor’s life as an outcast demon-hunter, that Trevor accept his choices impact more than just him, that Alucard repell intrusions on his solitary guardianship, that Carmilla has a bound forgemaster and solid plans to grow an army, and that Issac has a full-sized army of his own. 

A pedestrian approach would have been all plot: a whole lot of running from one place to the next while shouting exposition. It could’ve ended up a truly jarring tonal shift between what’s basically four separate storylines: Alucard and Cho’s former prisoners, Sypha and Trevor and Saint Germain, Isaac’s journey to find Hector, and finally Carmilla and Hector. Though given they hardly interact after the first episode, we could treat this as two parallel storylines: Carmilla and her sisters, and Hector and Lenore.

(Spoilers behind the cut.)

Instead, Ellis uses these four (or five) storylines to explore different issues with trust, betrayal, and isolation. Sypha and Trevor recognize that St Germain’s unexpected willingness to trust wasn’t born of seeing them as trustworthy, so much as a symptom of St Germain’s overwhelming isolation and loneliness – and they even remark on the similarity to someone else, implied to be Alucard. Who – after his highly guarded and distanced interactions with Sypha and Trevor in S2, followed by a month (or a year, Alucard’s lost track) of total isolation – has come to the same place as St Germain. 

In both cases, those finales pivots on whether this third, isolated person can be trusted, as well as whether that person can trust the pair that claims to be helping. St Germain isn’t a fighter, and goes into the finale clearly terrified as to whether Sypha and Trevor can even keep him safe, while Sypha and Trevor have to take it on faith that St Germain’s intentions are good. (If you take Alucard’s animation to indicate that he has no experience as a lover, then the parallels are even more stark.)

Meanwhile, Isaac – as the captain so insightfully points out – remains fixated on the offenses done him, easily dismissing the kindness of an unexpected gift from a stranger. Hector’s issue, on the other hand, is too much trust, given too easily, with no questions ever asked (as Lenore drives home, first through interrogation and second through manipulation). Isaac’s determination not to trust anyone makes his way more difficult, while Hector’s determination not to question his immediate trust in the latest authority figure is what eventually traps him. 

Even the four vampire sisters (an element I really loved, almost making up for the first two seasons’ near-dearth) pivot around issues of trust, but in their case, it’s whether they can trust that Carmilla’s grand vision is feasible. They don’t distrust Carmilla, or her ideas – they distrust that they can fulfill her visionary plan to its fullest extent. But they’re also intrigued by the idea, and clearly competent enough to make it happen – and despite a few times where it seems there might be fractures (more of Lenore’s diplomatic manipulation, in hindsight), the four really do trust each other pretty firmly.

There’s a secondary theme threaded through the storylines, too, although we only hear it stated explicitly in the Isaac and Trevor/Sypha storylines. 

the captain: “If you don’t have your own story, you become part of someone else’s.”

The context here is whether one’s motivation comes from an external source, or is internal to the person. Isaac’s motivation (at least at the midpoint of this season) is clearly stated as revenge on Hector – that is, to rectify Hector’s wrongs that undid Dracula’s story. Alucard, too, is trapped in someone else’s story, as his motivation first is that he thinks helping two lost souls would please his mother, and later that training new demon hunters would please Trevor. 

Sypha’s motivation is simpler: action! adventure! excitement! And in not stopping to consider the source (or the results) of her motivation, she ends up being accessory to not one but three stories (with Trevor along for the ride). The Trevor/Sypha storyline could be seen, in this light, as one in which they’re tools in other peoples’ stories. They fail to warn/assert/react fast enough to prevent the mad priest’s actions, they learn of (and then tackle) the church problem due to the town mayor’s need, and they learn of (and then tackle) the thing in the basement due to St Germain’s need. 

In the end, St Germain (like Dracula) goes onto the next chapter of his story, with Sypha and Trevor left to handle the aftermath (like Isaac). They don’t even reclaim their story with the final discovery of the mayor’s depravity, as they end up (if understandably) destroying the evidence, as the mayor had requested. 

When Trevor echoes the captain’s words (which could be Ellis wanting to drive the point home, or could imply that at some point, Trevor also met the captain), Sypha deflects his point. She’s quite certain she’s been living her own story, and enjoying it immensely. In the aftermath, Trevor turns the point around, saying that for the past few months, they’ve been living Sypha’s life, all action and adventure. 

Trevor: “And now, we’re living my life.”

Trevor’s origins, after all, lie in the destruction of his family – but that destruction wasn’t at the hands of the demons they fought. Instead, it was at the hands of the church, its people, and the larger community. His storyline in S1-S2 was of someone who’d seen the worst of humanity, and ended up deciding to fight because he chose to, not because humanity deserves it.   

With the possible exception of St Germain (which is more of an open question than a certainty), they trusted and discovered their trust wasn’t misplaced, so much as… that taking everything at face value meant they remained blind to what lay beneath. Their story halts with Trevor reminded of why he originally kept people at a distance (through snark and alcohol), and Sypha now enlightened as to how sometimes humans are far worst monsters. 

That blindness is also present in Alucard’s story, when he takes the two young prisoners-turned-hunters at face value. He opens his house (well, most of it) to them, trains them, and tells them secrets of how to hunt his father’s race. It’s a radical shift from his original reaction to the Belmont hold, as a museum dedicated to the extermination of his race.

Which brings me to Ellis’ choice to have the finales as parallel battles, but he manages to have them reflect each other, as well. For Isaac, Sypha, and Trevor, it’s an external battle against an overwhelming foe. Sypha ends with literal blood on her hands, and other than St Germain’s departure, the rest of their victory is literally pyrric.  

For Hector and Alucard, their storylines peak (ahem) at what should be a moment of trust and connection, which is why I can see the choice to have those storylines turn sexual. (Honestly, I thought the two young hunters were just going to cook Alucard dinner in return, or something – I had zero expectations that any story would ever go there.) 

First, five separate battles would’ve been just a lot of chaos, compared to the contrast of apparent happy-endings (or happy-middles). Second, it drives home that Alucard has defenses all over the place, but none to seduction, while Hector simply clings to whomever is willing to call the shots, and only thinks to question later. They’re in the stage of their story that the captain raises to Isaac: after you’ve achieved this goal, what next? What is left for you? 

Which is why I think their parallel endpoints – Isaac’s final battle, Alucard and the hunters, Hector and Lenore – all come to a head at being bound in some way. They’re still playing out someone else’s story, so they run headfirst into situations where that tunnel-vision can be used against them. Isaac may be the least trusting of the lot, but even he shows a remarkable tendency to take things at face value: to trust the gift from the seller, to listen to the captain, to sit and converse with the old witch who tells him about the possessed city. With as little foreknowledge as Alucard or Hector, Isaac rushes in, eyes too fixed on achieving someone else’s goal to see the trap ahead. 

None of the bindings are shown as simple, easy to break, or without lasting effect. At the same time, it’s striking that Isaac and Alucard do manage to force their way free, while Hector can only flail about in pain. To me – given the theme of trust – that implies that somehow, both Alucard and Isaac do have the potential for a balanced trust. That is (unlike Hector) knowing when to take it away, even if both struggle with learning to give it.

Oddly, that’s why I think the season managed to position things beautifully for a next season, because we’ve come full circle. 

It’s a curious thing about Alucard: when we first meet him in S1, he’s recovering from his father’s betrayal (of attacking humans); in S3, he’s recovering from the grief of loss (his parents, his only two friends) – and S4 ends with him shivering in pain/hurt over the betrayal of two people. Gotta wonder how much more Ellis will see fit to break this character down.

In S2, Hector was a valued lieutenant, if terribly blind to the implications of what Dracula wanted. Now those illusions are gone; he’s enslaved, wanted only for his skills (in the forge and in bed) – and the deal is quite explicit. Lenore has the grace to say that Hector should be getting something out of the deal, but that doesn’t change that Hector can’t pretend there’s no deal being made. 

Isaac begins cast out, grieving Dracula (not entirely as a mission, but more as a friend, I think) – and ends with the resources and experiences to go in a new direction. He doesn’t have to take out Hector, who could be seen as small fry, anyway. (Especially given Hector’s now just a shell of a controlled man.) If Isaac chooses to go after Carmilla in S4, that’ll be the first step towards making his story his own. Note also that although Isaac may seem alone, he’s accompanied by a host of creatures. He has allies.

It’s the trust in those allies that seems to determine who ends well, and who does not. Although Trevor and Sypha (especially Sypha) were dealt an emotional blow by the post-battle revelations, they always had each others’ backs – and they leave the town behind, relatively unscathed. Isaac ends victorious, with a few of his army intact and the material to make more. 

But the storyline that ends in the ascendant position is Carmilla’s. With her visionary ideas and her sisters’ abilities to make those visions real, Carmilla is positioned to go exactly where she wants. Which is why it’s also striking that (other than Lenore’s sex scene), neither Carmilla nor her sisters really have a ‘final’ battle. They’re effectively a season ahead of everyone else – the trust between the four is already established, solid, and reciprocated equally. 

So you could say that being foolhardy about trust will land you in hot water – which pretty much covers all the central protagonists. But the story’s not that bleak, despite its final scenes, because it’s also saying that sometimes, to get where you want to be, you do have to take that leap – as illustrated by Isaac and St Germain. Or even that you trust, and if betrayed, you deal with the consequences, learn the lesson, and move on, like Trevor and Sypha. 

Or you learn a different lesson, one preached by dear old dad: put the bodies of your conquests out front on stakes, and lock the doors, and trust no one. Which is a legitimate reaction to betrayal, don’t get me wrong, but one that S3 seems to be firmly saying will only end badly.  

[atsixesandcevans]

a fate that befell me

Summary: You made the ultimate sacrifice, and now you and Steve must face the consequences and reconcile your misgivings.

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Reader

Word Count: 6.4k

Warnings: angst, talk of injuries and blood, mild ptsd maybe? 

A/N: WHEW, thank you SO much for your patience with me on this, I’m sorry this took so long to get out. There were certain things I wanted to include and filling in the gaps was harder than I thought it would be.

This is the second part of my the fire it ignites series, so if you haven’t read the first part, I recommend you do that before reading :)

I really hope this was worth the wait! I’ve already started writing a third part and, since I know exactly where I want to go with it, I’m hoping the wait won’t be as long! Enjoy :)

Read on AO3 || Masterlist || Series Masterlist

Your body collided with his, making him stumble just a little, his name a harsh shout from your lips. He was about to turn to you, demand what the hell you were doing, when the gunshot rang through the air, sharp and piercing. The sound of it made his body tense as he felt yours stiffen then collapse against him.

Time seemed to slow, the moment dragging endlessly while his mind fazed in and out of focus and realised what had happened. You crumple to the floor, deep red already blooming around your hand, pressed against your side.

The team around him sprang into action, bodies moving frantically, orders being shouted, your name called. 

Steve, for what must have been the first time in years - maybe his life - found himself frozen, despite the unbridled, unmistakable panic swelling in his chest. The voices of his teammates, his friends - your friends - fade to nothing more than distant noise. Steve was unable to do anything but drop to his knees beside your head, moving his face to be directly above yours.

Your vision seemed to lose focus, but soon your eyes locked with his, and they filled with an oddly calm look, tinged with confusion. It was such a soft look that you gave him, brimming with affection that Steve didn’t deserve from you. He watched your face contort in pain as someone - he doesn’t know who, he couldn’t possibly look away from you now - replaces your hand with theirs, pressing firmly against your wound. His hand rested on your head, fingers threading into your hair, stroking, willing the action to bring you some semblance of comfort. Your lips curled upwards, just slightly, at the corners, your expression unnaturally peaceful for the circumstances. 

He wished he could take the pain away, bear it on his shoulders. It should have been me.

Your eyes began to droop, losing focus, and your apology was a breathless, heart-wrenching whisper. Steve wanted to shout, to tell you that you’re going to be okay, that it will all be okay, that he’s sorry too, but a firm hand on his shoulder drew his attention away from you.

Natasha stood beside him, eyes frantic but voice calm, measured. Steve knew her well enough to know that she was close to breaking, but managed to keep up her steely exterior. “We need to get her onto the jet.” It’s then that he noticed that the others were gone, already on the quinjet and getting ready to make their getaway.

Steve moved as if in a trance, slipping his arms underneath your shoulders and knees, lifting with ease. He held you close to his body, moving quickly from the building, and rested his face against the side of your head. He kept talking to you, reassuring, though not entirely sure if you could hear him or not. He pressed a kiss to your temple, willing you to be okay, then felt your body go limp against him, while the guilt settled thick and heavy in his heart. 

---

The hours that you were in surgery were some of the longest, and most stressful of Steve’s life. Second only to the hours when he didn’t know if Bucky was alive back during the war. But even then, he didn’t feel the same weight on his shoulders, in his heart. This was a different feeling, the guilt deeper, more consuming than he could remember having ever felt before.

He was sure his pacing would wear a hole in the linoleum floor of the hospital wing corridor. His hands were still stained with your blood, his grubby uniform undone but still clinging to his restless body. He refused to leave even long enough to wash or change. 

His hands balled into fists as the sounds of the gunshot and your pleading whisper flash through his mind, remorse never waning, settling like a rock in his chest. 

While Steve was pacing, the rest of the team arrived sporadically, having gone back to their rooms to change and shower, safe in the knowledge that he would alert them of any news in the meantime. 

Natasha was the first to arrive, along with Wanda, hair damp and wearing sweats and t-shirts, sullen looks on their faces. Sam and the others soon joined them, some pacing like Steve, some leaning against the wall, some folded in on themselves in the uncomfortable plastic chairs that lined the corridor. Even Tony had shown up, presumably at the insistence of Nat or Pepper. He was sat in the corner and busy tapping away at his StarkPad. Steve couldn’t even be mad at the tapping sound that interrupted the near-silence. He was just glad he had turned up.

Steve’s guilt grew exponentially as he realised that he’d been too caught up in his own thoughts and feelings to notice the hit the rest of the team had taken with your injury. For months, he’d been preoccupied with his dislike for you that he hadn’t even realised how much of a place you had found within the team. Looking around, he didn’t see a group of superheroes waiting for their colleague; he saw a team worried for their friend. Worried for you. You, who might not even be in this position if he hadn’t been so cold to you, if he hadn’t said those awful things, things that weren’t even close to being true. He realised that, now. 

A selfish person would never jump in front of a bullet for someone, especially someone who had been so awful to them. To you. And, looking around at your teammates, your friends, he realised that you did deserve to be on the team, perhaps more than anyone. More than him, that was for sure. The rational part of his brain tried to tell him otherwise, but he wouldn’t listen. After what he said, and what you did, he wasn’t sure he was worthy of his title. 

The pure relief that spread through the room when the doctor told them that the surgery was successful was almost palpable. He heard the doctor say something about blood transfusion and internal bleeding and broken ribs, but all Steve could think about was the fact that you were alive. You would be okay.

That was enough.

---

Once the team had had some time to feel the relief that their friend was alive, the doctor came back and explained that your recovery was going to take time. Although the wound itself had been patched up using Dr Cho’s new cradle, it would still take time for your ribs to mend, and even then it would be painful to make certain movements. Once you were all healed up, you would need to regain your strength and flexibility, which could take weeks. 

All things considered, nobody could complain about this outcome. Everyone knew it would be tough, but you would do it. If anyone could come back from this, it was you.

Now that he wasn’t stressed out of his mind, Steve’s mental and physical exhaustion finally caught up with him, and he slumped in a chair with a heavy breath. Although a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, there was still the undeniable guilt that he knew wouldn’t go away any time soon, if ever. 

After some persuasion from Nat, Steve made his way sullenly back to his room, where he swiftly stripped and showered, before collapsing into bed, falling quickly into a restless sleep. 

---

Everything was dark. And silent. It was unsettling, made you nervous. Why was it so dark? Where was all the noise? You couldn’t even hear your own breathing, and panic welled inside of you. Don’t let me be dead.

You tried to open your eyes, move your head to look around, but found yourself unable to move. The fear grew stronger, the complete absence of… everything too overwhelming, too confusing. Your ears strained to pick up on a sound, any sound, just to prove to yourself that you weren’t dead. Dear God, please don’t let me be dead. 

There was a sound. Voices, you thought, distant, muffled, like you were deep underwater, unknown depths threatening to swallow you whole. The voices grew louder, just a little, enough to make it feel like coming up for air, until something pulled you back under and it went silent again. 

Somehow, this time, it was comforting. Being surrounded by endless nothingness was oddly calming. The feeling of no obligations, no time restraints. It was leisurely, and you almost wished it would never end. 

A strange orange glow seeped through your eyelids, and you basked in it as if it were the sun on a warm June afternoon. You could almost feel yourself smiling, feel the light breeze on your cheeks and the happiness in your heart. 

The image was ripped away, however, when you felt a searing pain in your side. You choked on a gasp, before once again succumbing to the darkness around you. 

---

The hospital wing was quiet when Steve returned, too early in the morning for the regular bustling noise of pages turning and people chattering. It felt strange, being here at this time. Being the visitor, rather than the patient. It was eerie and reminded him too much of the night he lost his mother for him to make it a regular occurrence. Hell, if he hadn’t been called for a mission, he wouldn’t even be here. But he had to see you before he left. He had to make sure you were okay. 

Steve nodded and smiled softly at the nurse on duty at the front desk, tired eyes illuminated by the soft glow of a lamp where she worked on some files. He had become a regular enough admission to the wing to not need to have his ID checked, though he doubted he would need it anyway. 

As he rounded the corner and approached your room, he couldn’t fight the anxious knot in his stomach. He wondered what state you would be in if you would be awake or asleep. He wasn’t sure which would be worse. 

His racing mind couldn’t prepare him for the reality, though. 

The room was small, just big enough that there was room to move around unencumbered, lit dimly by an off-white light in the far corner. And, in the centre of the room, laying almost statue-still, was you, covered from the waist down by pristine baby blue sheets. The image of you, surrounded by wires and machines that he couldn’t name even if he tried, was jarring. You looked so small in the bed, so vulnerable, and Steve found himself missing your feisty spirit and your recklessness, even the way you always spoke back to him. He’d take any of it, all of it, over this. 

Before he could think twice, Steve found himself at the side of your bed, looking down at your sallow face, hair falling limp against the pillow. His eyes trailed down your torso, the edge of a bruise peeking out of the top of your hospital gown, and lingered on the spot he knew bore your healing wound. There were bruises across your knuckles, but that wasn’t unusual after a mission. He reached out instinctively and took your hand in his, the pad of his thumb brushing delicately over the purplish flesh. 

He was startled from his thoughts by the vibration of his phone in his pocket, and he quickly but gently rested your hand back at your side. Secretly thankful that there was no one around to see the blush creeping up his neck. Stepping just outside the doorway, he fished out his phone and answered the call with a stiff but hushed “Rogers.” He only half-listened to Maria Hill inform him of some new information regarding the mission before thanking her and ending the call. Heaving a sigh, he turned and looked through the doorway at you for a long moment, before tearing himself away to get ready to leave. The urge to turn around and go back to you only strengthened with every step he took.

—-

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was how heavy your body felt, like it had been dipped in concrete. It was unnerving, but you didn’t allow yourself to panic, not yet. Not until you had figured out exactly what was going on.

Taking a chance, you made an attempt at opening your eyes - though the apparent weight of your eyelids meant that it took a great deal of concentration to do so - and immediately regretted it. The harsh white light surrounding you sent jolts of pain through your eyes, like needles piercing the flesh behind them. You tried again, this time with more caution, opening them only a fraction, just enough to take in your surroundings. 

From what you could tell, you were in a hospital room, if the crisp sheets and rhythmic beeping beside you were anything to go by. As your eyes adjusted to the light, you were able to scope out a little more of the room. You could see the door, across to your right, as well as a set of drawers against the wall to your left. It was adorned with various vases of flowers and what looked to be Get Well Soon cards, along with a borderline-tacky foil helium balloon. As far as you could tell, it read something like ‘Sorry you feel like s**t!’. You were reasonably confident that that was thanks to Tony. 

The display of well-wishes confused you, though. Usually, the stints that any of the Avengers took in the hospital wing were short-term, so didn’t warrant gifts, which begged the question; how long have I been here? And its prequel, what the hell happened?

You scoured your recent memory, searching for anything that would tell you why you were in here, but all you got were fragments of sight and sound. A man pointing a gun. Your voice, shouting Steve’s name. A gunshot, loud and clear and unmistakable. A solid mass, engulfing you, protecting you.

Oh god.

Almost frantically, you pushed down the sheets that lay across your torso and lifted the hospital gown where the ache that you were suddenly aware of told you the wound would be. Your whole abdomen was wrapped in a white bandage, and you lifted one side of it to see the distinct scarring of what you knew to be a bullet wound. 

The fragments of your memory began to come together, forming one coherent mass, and the realisation of what you had done hit you like a freight train. You had taken a bullet for him, for the man you claimed to hate, the man who claimed to hate you. How had you been so stupid, so reckless? You were sure that if you were to look up the word ‘idiot’ in a dictionary, there’d be a picture of you, in this exact situation. 

What the hell were you thinking? And, more importantly at this moment, what the hell must Steve think? You’d virtually proven his point about being reckless. This was it, you were sure of it, this would be the last straw, and you’d be off the team. You resigned yourself to your fate, settling back into the pillows only semi-comfortably, and began planning your next moves. There was no way he’d allow you to stay here, after the stunt you pulled, so you’d have to find a place to go. You wondered what happened to your old apartment, the one you lived in before you were recruited by Fury, whether it had been sold, whether you could just go back there. Judging by the healed-over skin and the pain in your side that you knew to be broken ribs, you’d probably only need to be here for a few more days. After that, you’d get by. It would be tough, on your own, but you’d come back from worse, and without the support of an entire team behind you.

That was a lie, and you knew it, but this was no time for actual logical thinking.

Just as you were making a mental checklist of what you would need to do before you left, your thoughts were interrupted by Nat, wearing her trademark smirk. She was followed closely by a svelte woman in a doctor’s coat. “Well, look who decided to return to the land of the living.”

Your own lips quirked up into a matching smirk, though when you spoke, your throat was dry and hoarse. “Oh come on, Romanoff, surely we’ve known each other long enough that you can just tell me you missed me.” Natasha’s smirk morphed into a genuine smile, and she took a seat in the chair that had been angled towards the bed.

“It’s good to have you back, Y/N,” the other woman spoke, her voice light and melodic. Not at all what you would expect from a doctor who had to fix secret agents and super soldiers daily. She approached the bed and lifted the clipboard hanging from the end of it, flipping through with a natural smile on her face. “My name is Dr Helen Cho, I’m in charge of your recovery here.”

Your mind whirled, trying to work out where you’d heard the name before. Sensing your struggle, Nat elaborated, “Dr Cho is head of the U-GIN Genetics company in South Korea. She used her technology to design a machine that can create synthetic tissue and bond it to human cells. It’s pretty incredible.”

Dr Cho becomes almost bashful at the praise. “Well, it’s not perfect, there will always be ways to improve it, but it does the job we need it to. And I must say, it has worked wonders on your injury.”

You nodded absently, the final pieces coming together in your mind; perhaps you weren’t out for as long as you had thought, if that machine of hers was what healed your wound so quickly.

“How long have I been here?”

“Just a few days. You were in surgery for a couple hours while we figured out the extent of your injury and removed any shrapnel that might have gotten lodged in the wound. After that, we just let the Cradle do its work. And you’ve been in here, sleeping since then. We decided it was best to let your body take all the rest it needed, rather than forcing it to be either asleep or awake. The body is surprisingly good at healing itself, and sometimes the best course of action is to just allow it the time to do its thing.”

You listened intently as Dr Cho described the nature of your injuries, and the procedures they went through to repair them, before detailing what your next steps to recovery would be. She explained that you would need several days more bed rest here in the medical wing, followed by several more in your own suite. After that, you would be able to move around, provided you didn’t over-exert yourself until your ribs were healed. Then, you would need to train regularly in order to regain muscle mass and be able to move with the ease and fluidity as you did before. Dr Cho insisted that it would be a long process, but it was necessary if you were to make a full recovery. 

It wasn’t exactly the prognosis you were hoping for, but if it meant you could go back to normal? You’d do all you could.

----

Within a day of you waking up, you were able to sit up in bed a little more and actually feel like a human being again. You had your first actual food in days, and a slightly plasticky prepackaged sandwich had never tasted so good. Your skin had begun to return to its natural colour, your hair returning to its normal fullness. 

Since you’d ‘returned to the land of the living,’ as Nat had put it, most of the team had been by to say hello. Some only dropped by fleetingly, on their way to or from one thing or another, but some stayed longer, keeping you company. Nat and Wanda were with you most of the day, glad to have their friend back and eager to catch you up on everything that had happened while you were out. They brought you a couple of books and magazines to keep you occupied since they had meetings to attend and paperwork to complete. They even brought you food from your favourite takeout place.

The only ones who didn’t visit you that first day were Tony - who cited his known dislike for hospitals in his ‘glad you’re okay’ message - and Sam and Steve, who were away on a mission and weren’t expected back for a few days.

So, you were beyond surprised when, in the late evening the day after you came to, your attention was pulled from your book by Steve tapping his knuckles against the doorframe. He was dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt, hair damp from the shower, and held a vase of flowers in front of him.

Dread immediately settled in your chest, forming a lump in your throat, his name a surprised murmur from your lips, earning an equally quiet “hey” from Steve.

You’d never seen him so apprehensive. The tenseness he carried in his whole body made you think that, if they weren’t otherwise occupied, his hands would be in knots in front of him.

“Do you wanna come in?” He nodded stiffly, and moved towards you, placing the vase on the table to your side. You motioned to the empty chair, and he sat, looking uncomfortable and tight, and he looked everywhere but you and oh god, this is the end.

There were several minutes of somewhat tense small talk. He asked how you are, you asked how the mission went, though neither of your hearts are in it, and you wished he’d just get to the point already. After a stretch of silence, you both went to speak at once.

“Are you kicking me off the team?”

“I want to apologise for what I- you think I’m kicking you off the team?”

You sigh, almost exasperated. “Well, of course. You didn’t want me on the team in the first place, and now I’ve just given you more proof that I don’t belong here. The team would be a whole lot better if I wasn’t on it.”

Steve began to shake his head almost immediately after you started your little tirade. He sat forward in his chair so he could catch your gaze, which had dropped to your lap where you had begun picking at a loose thread in the blanket. When you met his eyes, they were sincere and full of regret, brows knitted together in a frown. 

“No, Y/N, listen… I am so sorry for what I said to you that day, and for the way I’ve been treating you since you got here.”

You nodded slowly, blinking back the tears that had begun to form in your eyes. “What you said really hurt me, Steve.”

Steve’s chest tightened almost painfully at the vulnerability in your voice, knowing that he was the reason that you looked so broken. He sighed, swallowing down his own emotion and sitting forward in his chair a little more. “I know. I know I hurt you and I can’t sit here and give you some lame excuse for my actions, especially now that I see just how wrong I was. All I can do is say that I am really, truly sorry, and hope that one day you can forgive me.”

You saw the sincerity and regret in his eyes and offered him a small nod and a watery smile. “For what it’s worth… I’m sorry too. I know I shouldn’t have disobeyed you that time in Minsk, I just… I wanted to prove myself to you, to the others. Prove I could be useful, that I deserved a place on the team.” You lifted one shoulder in a lopsided shrug. “I guess that plan backfired.” 

“No, you were right to investigate. Admittedly, I do wish it hadn’t been against my orders, but there could have been something useful in that room. I know that several others on the team would have done the same thing.”

After softly agreeing with him, you both settled into several seconds of somewhat tense, but comfortable silence, until you spoke up in a quiet voice, “so… what now? Am I still on the team?”

Steve’s answer was immediate. “Yes. Yes, of course, you are, there’s no doubt in my mind that you belong here. You’ll always have a place here, with us, as long as you want it.” You breathed a relieved sigh, chuckling lightly.  “But for now, how about a do-over? At your confused expression, he stood and held his hand out, clearing his throat a little. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you, I’m Steve Rogers.” You searched his face for any sign that he was making a joke, but his vaguely amused expression was sincere. You shook his hand and returned his sentiment, giving him your name, your voice light with humour.

The two of you chatted for a little while after that, finally allowing yourselves the chance to get to know each other, until Steve caught you trying to stifle a yawn. He graciously helped lower you into a comfortable sleeping position and turned the lights to a dimmer setting. He paused in the doorway, looking back at you with a smile, which you returned, before turning and making his way back down the hallway.

Smile still on your face, your eyes wandered around the room, settling on the flowers Steve left on the side for you. You admired the simple, yet beautiful arrangement, wondering if the symbolism of the flowers was intentional, eventually deciding that it was too on the nose to have been coincidental. 

Purple hyacinths. Daffodils.

Forgiveness, remorse. New beginnings.

---

To your surprise, you started seeing a lot more of Steve after that. 

The next morning, he turned up - way too bright and early for your liking - bearing heavenly gifts of decent, non-watery coffee and fresh pastries from someplace he passed on his morning run. He was oddly bashful about it, too, as if worried that you would blow up at him for bringing you breakfast. You accepted them gratefully, the smell alone enough to make your stomach rumble, acting as a reminder of the less-than-ideal food that you had been subjected to since you had woken up. Seriously, Tony could afford to replace entire jets every week, but couldn’t stretch to food that was actually edible?

You had just finished the last dregs of your coffee and were halfway through your third danish when Dr Cho appeared in your doorway, cutting off your - only slightly - stiff small talk with Steve. She offered the both of you a bright smile before letting you know that you would be moved back to your own room with strict instructions for rest for several more days, and no strenuous activities for at least a week. 

When Dr Cho asked if there was someone who would be available to help you if you needed it, Steve quickly offered his assistance and, after several minutes of arguing back and forth, you relented. He had pleaded with you for god's sake, who were you to say no?

Not two hours later, you found yourself in a wheelchair, Steve manoeuvring you through the corridors of the compound towards the living quarters. You had changed into fresh sweats and a T-shirt that Steve had Nat fetch from your room just before she and the others left for one mission or another, leaving you and Steve pretty much alone in the compound. 

You managed to get yourself settled into a corner of the couch in your room without too much fuss, your ribs only aching a little, while Steve went to return the wheelchair. When he came back, he swung by the kitchenette in your room, soon returning with two plates of sandwiches which he placed on the coffee table in front of you. You thanked him quietly and went back to flicking through Netflix for something for the two of you to watch. 

After several moments, you broke the silence. “So, cap, what’s your pop culture like? Have you managed to acquaint yourself with twenty-first-century television?” 

Steve chuckled softly, gently shaking his head. “Not really. Movies, sort of yes, but TV shows are always such a big commitment, and it’s hard to see the point in starting something when you could be called away for weeks at a time. Then by that point, you’ve missed a bunch and have to play catch up, only to be called away again. It’s an endless cycle.”

“You see, that’s the joy of Netflix.” You gestured towards the TV screen with the remote. “A lot of the shows on there are completed, and they’re there all the time, so you don’t have to worry about schedules or not being able to watch for a while. You can just jump right back in whenever you want.”

Steve seemed to contemplate that. “Huh. I guess I hadn’t really thought about it like that.” He was silent for a few seconds before he asked, “so, what would you recommend I watch?” 

“Well, it kind of depends on what you like, there’s such a variety. But… I personally would recommend the show, Sherlock. I feel like it covers a variety of bases, crime, drama, comedy…”

“Sherlock as in… Sherlock Holmes? Like in the Conan Doyle novels? I used to love reading those in the 40s.”

“Yeah, the show is basically a modernisation of those characters and stories, set in modern-day London. Plus, each episode is basically its own mini-movie, and there isn’t a whole lot of spread-out storylines, so you don’t have to worry about being away for long periods.”

Steve put his hands up in surrender, laugh bubbling from his chest. “Okay, okay, you’ve convinced me, I’ll try it.” 

You didn’t even try to hide your excitement and quickly found the first episode, both of you settling back with your sandwiches as you pressed play. 

—

The third episode was just drawing to a close when your stomach rumbled, drawing an amused chuckle from Steve, who offered to make dinner while you showered. Not, however, before spending several minutes fussing over you and making sure you were able to move around as much as you needed to. You were nearly forced to resort to violence, had he not finally relented when he realised that you had made it to the bathroom without assistance. He did make you promise to call if you needed help, though. 

It started out okay. You had managed, very carefully, to undress, and stand under the stream of hot water, the warmth and pressure relaxing your muscles and washing away the grime of being stuck in a bed for days on end. But then you made the mistake of trying to apply shampoo to your hair. You momentarily forgot about your ribs and raised your arms too quickly, sending a shock of pain through your side that had you almost doubling over, pained shout tearing from your throat. 

It took all of three seconds for the hurried knocking on the door to start, Steve calling your name sharply, voice laced with worry. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you gasped, trying to swallow the whimpers of pain. 

“No, you’re not.” Apparently, you didn’t try hard enough. Damn him and his super-soldier hearing. “I’m coming in.” You listened to the door opening, then closing, and when Steve spoke next, he was less than a metre away, voice softer but no less concerned. “What happened?”

You sighed, the pain in your side shifting to more of an ache than the sharp agony it had been. Your voice was quiet as you explained, “I went to wash my hair but moved too quick and aggravated my ribs, is all. I’m okay now.” You had hoped that that would be enough to placate him, but really you should have known that it wouldn’t. 

“Are you sure? Do you want my help?” He sounded genuinely concerned, clearly unfazed by the ridiculousness of the situation. 

You shook your head, even though he probably couldn't see you. “No, it’s okay, I…” You paused, and shifted a little on your feet, the movement sending another shooting pain through you, and you barely stifled the groan that it caused. You sighed again, relenting, and whispered a resigned “yes, please.” 

Steve could feel the heat of his cheeks as he stepped in behind you, having stripped down to his underwear, focusing his eyes on the tiles above your head, the knobs of the shower, anywhere but the drop of water making a meandering path down the curve of your back. 

You both settled into a tense silence, the quiet only disturbed by the steady stream of the shower, and the soft is this okay?s and whispered replies. 

His touch on your scalp was firm but gentle, and you wondered distantly what it would be like to have those hands on other parts of your body - pressing into your hips or skimming down your sides or pawing at your-

Steve’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, and you quickly snapped out of it, allowing him to gently move your body so that your head was under the stream of water. You hoped the flush you felt in your cheeks wasn’t noticeable. 

It was almost overwhelming, the intimacy of it all. You wondered how on earth you would be able to go back to treating each other as mere colleagues after… this. How would you be able to look him in the eye after having felt the heat of his body so close to yours? Felt the dexterity of his fingers running through your hair, felt the new and encompassing desire you had for him at that moment? You wondered if he felt it too, this strange charge of energy between you, hanging in the empty space between the cold tile walls of the shower. If he, too, felt something new and unexpected for you, born of forced intimacy and affection. 

It was nice to dream.

Once your hair was washed, Steve made sure you were okay to finish up before he stepped away, shoulders tense. He grabbed a towel and dried his body as best as he could, before slipping back into his clothes, muttering something about going to change. His voice was taut and barely audible over the sound of the water surrounding you.

By the time he returned, you had managed to finish your shower and change into comfortable, clean clothes without too much difficulty. You were settled back onto the couch with your phone, when a quick knock at the door alerted you to his presence before he came in, muttering an almost sheepish “hi.”

The air was thick with tension as Steve went straight back to preparing dinner. He barely glanced your way until you stood, a soft groan slipping past your lips at the physical exertion and the movement that jostled your ribs slightly. His head whipped around, and he started to approach you, telling you to stop and wait for him to help you, which you waved off with a flick of your hand. “I’m fine, really, Steve, I’m perfectly capable of standing on my own.” You took careful steps over to the kitchenette, standing on the opposite side of the breakfast bar counter to Steve, who had his eye trained on you the whole time. You pushed yourself onto one of the barstools next to you, sighing when you were finally situated. You did not enjoy how much simple tasks took out of you. You couldn’t wait to be better. 

Once sat, you lifted your gaze to meet Steve’s eyes, which were filled with concern, his eyebrows drawn together to form what the others had called the Eyebrows of Disappointment. You took a breath and tried to tamp down the rising urge to just hightail it out of there, realising that you wouldn’t get very far on your own and Steve would be able to catch you. Very easily. 

Taking a deep breath, you tried to figure out what to say. What could you say? As far as you were aware, there was no standard protocol for talking to 100-year-old super-soldiers who, not thirty minutes ago, had been in your shower. With you. While you were naked. 

“I… thank you. For your help earlier. I really appreciate it.” His features softened upon your words and your grateful tone, eyebrows relaxing slightly into an expression that held an unexpected tenderness that made your heart clench. It was clear he was trying to swallow his embarrassment, but there was no mistaking the pink tinge to his cheeks and the tips of his ears. You bit your lip and dropped your gaze to the counter in front of you. Steve waited patiently for you to continue. “I don't… I don’t want there to be any awkwardness between us, especially since we only just got on good terms, so… I think it would be best if we just… forget it ever happened?” Your voice was hopeful towards the end, raising your eyes back to his just in time to see a flash of… disappointment? - no, not possible - before he offered you one of his lopsided grins that, coupled with the softness in his gaze, had your stomach doing somersaults. 

“Sure, Y/N.”

You responded with your own grin, before adding, “oh, and maybe don’t tell the others? I feel like Nat would have a field day if she ever found out about this.” That earned you a full laugh from Steve, your own chuckle bright and cheerful, with a lightness that you hadn’t felt in a while. 

After a brief moment where you were both unable to break the soft eye contact, you settled back into light chatter, the shower incident a distant memory, just as you had asked. 

So why did you feel that unmistakable lump of regret in your stomach?

[shy-violet-soul]

Love in a time of COVID-19

Summary: Bucky won’t let anything get in the way of showing you he loves you & making you smile. Characters: Bucky Barnes x you; Steve Rogers; mentions of Clint Barton, Tony Stark, & Natasha Romanoff Ratings/Warnings: Character has Rheumatoid Arthritis, mentions of symptoms & treatments. Social-distanced-fluff of the highest concentration. Clint being weird & Bucky being goofball-y awesome. A/N: I saw the photo that inspired this on IG, and laughed so hard I just about cried. The marvelous OP graciously gave me permission to include it in my fic. You’ll find it at the bottom of the work. I thought we could all use some fluff in our lives these days!

I also have a friend with Rheumatoid Arthritis who is finding this time to be exceptionally difficult. Please support those in your circle who need some extra love right now.

Thank you @pinknerdpanda​ for beta-ing once again! All the social-distanced-hugs to you!

This work is a piece of fiction inspired by characters created by the MCU. Please do not copy/print elsewhere without my written permission

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He was convinced. People’d lost their damn minds.

Bucky had survived warzone trenches in Europe. Had lived through the Great Depression. And had never seen the level of human stupidity he’d witnessed the first few days of March 2020. It’s an airborne illness - why the hell were people buying 96 rolls of toilet paper at a whack? What were they gonna do, wrap it around their mouths and breathe through it?

The Avengers Tower was going through its own issues. Stark vowed to spend his self-isolation inside one of his suits; a good idea in theory until he realized he still had to pee. Steve kept expounding on the virtues of using the time to catch up on reports. Natasha spent her time snorting at the treasure trove of new social media memes while Clint thumbed his nose at the whole thing by licking every door knob he passed. Bucky was washing his hands more just because of that. Gross.

Yes, they were pretty well hooked up to do the shelter in place, social distance, whatever the hell they were calling this thing. Bucky couldn’t fault Tony (well, probably mostly Pepper) for the very streamlined system in place that kept the Tower stocked with all manner of essentials. And, the Stark Foundation was busily getting help where it needed to go while Bruce videoconferenced with Dr. Cho and Shuri on treatments and vaccines. They were good to go for the foreseeable future.

His only real worry was you.

Your rheumatoid arthritis made this whole thing much more dicey, and - if he was being honest - a frick ton scarier. The illness suppressed your immune system, which meant you had to be more proactive on a normal day with handwashing, etc. Throw in a virus with no vaccine and no treatment? ‘Proactive’ took on a whole new definition. Sanitizing surfaces and extra cleanliness efforts were easy to step up. But he knew how much you hated being cooped inside. It didn’t help that the humidity had climbed up into the 70-ish percent region. The heavy air, coupled with the bite of winter chill still hanging on to the calendar, had your already tender joints pitching all kinds of a fit.

Right now, you were curled up in your favorite spot - a well padded window seat overlooking Central Park. Bucky had switched on the fancy fake fireplace for you, had wrapped you in blankets and propped you with pillows. The light pouring in haloed a bright shine to your hair, which normally would have a smile on his face. But your wan face pulled a grimace from him instead. Your shoulders rose and fell with a sigh, and Bucky would have cheerly scrubbed every surface of the whole damn Tower to get you out and about and smiling again.

A knock on the door spun him on his heel, and Bucky stalked to the door. Everyone knew the protocol - no visitors allowed!

“What.” Not a question, but a cold, terse demand. Steve drew a deep breath as he measured the look being leveled at him. He’d faced firing tanks with less caution. His friend’s frown was fierce versus his blank murder stare. Bucky was mad but not in an assassinating mood. 

“Buck, I’m not gonna stay. I just wanted to stop in and say hi.”

“I’ll tell her you said so.” The door swung closed in his face. Steve rolled his eyes, throwing his arms up in disgust.

“C’mon, man.”

“No.” Exasperated, Steve couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his mouth. You and Bucky were a match made in heaven. Eidetic brain with the memory of an elephant, you were hands down one of the best analysts he’d had the privilege of working with. You chased after clues relentlessly, bulldogged in your tenacity. Straight up bullheaded in your obstinacy, though. 

If anyone could out-stubborn you, it was Bucky. Lord knows, he had enough experience chasing after a certain runt who couldn’t stay out of back alley brawls. Steve knew that, in odd moments, it still struck his friend that he didn’t need his help in the same ways. When Bucky’s muscle memory had him moving before his brain caught up if Steve coughed or sneezed. He could practically see the wheels turning as Bucky struggled to stitch together broken memories with current moments. A natural protector, Bucky needed someone to nurture. To cajole and wheedle and, if necessary, out-stubborn. You fit the bill to a tee.

“I don’t have coronavirus, Bucky!”

The door snatched back open. “Oh, yeah? And how do you know that?”

“I can’t get sick. Serum, remember?”

Bucky glared at him through squinted eyes before stepping back into the apartment.

“Carrier,” he hissed, slamming the door again.

“Was that Steve?”  Fatigue even hung heavy in your voice, the faintest gravel in the back of your throat threading a husk into your words. Bucky winced with you when you shifted in your seat, struggling painfully to stand.

“Yeah. Now I’m gonna have to wipe off the door knob again,” he groused as he briskly rubbed sanitizer over his hands. “Clint’s such a dumb ass.”

You snorted softly as you padded towards him. “I know. Who licks door knobs to prove a point?”

Taking in your stiff posture, Bucky leaned in close and pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“Why’d you get up? What do you need? I’ll get it,” he murmured into your hair. Your sigh huffed softly against his chest as you gratefully leaned against him, glancing at the clock in the kitchen.

“I should probably take another dose of ibuprofen,” the words mumbled up, uncertain. The illness had dragged up new challenges - too many doses of the NSAID was ripping up your stomach. Steroids helped, too, but you couldn’t take too many rounds too close together, and you’d already taken one prescription a month ago when the wet winter had your shoulders and wrists feeling like they were grinding straight through to your bone marrow. Pepper and your doctor were trying to get a DMARD approved through insurance, but with all this new virus ‘fit hitting the shan’, the insurance company backlog was sky high. That left you with balancing growing joint discomfort against growing stomach unhappiness. Thank God for ice packs and Tony’s ridiculously over-the-top whirlpool baths.

Bucky held in his own sigh as he pondered your situation. “Let me make you some of that chamomile tea and some toast to go with it.”

He didn’t think it possible, but your shoulders sagged even more. “I’m really not hungry, Buck.”

Threading his fingers through your hair, he gently rubbed the back of your head the way you liked.

“I’ll make it with that raspberry rutabaga jam on it. You want that?”

The catch in your throat grew to a fist-sized lump fit to choke you. The throbbing in your shoulders and arms radiated in time with your heartbeat up into your brain. Your knees felt weird - rubbery, tender, like you weren’t sure they’d support you. You missed your job, you missed your friends, you missed outside. As much as you adored Bucky, you were lonely for the other pieces of your life. The misery in your heart swelled to mammoth proportions, and you couldn’t choke back the sob that broke from you.

“I want -”

Bucky’s gut pinched so hard it hurt when you started crying. “What, love? What do you want? Anything, I’ll get it for you.”

Crying just made everything hurt more, and you swallowed hard to shove down the tears, anxiety, and stress. You glanced up, seeing the stress that pulled tight lines into Bucky’s face. You tried to offer him a smile and knew you failed pathetically.

“Rhubarb, hun. It’s raspberry rhubarb jam.”

Bucky saw you trying, knew you were trying to make him feel better, and wanted to cry himself. He’d do anything to bring back your smile.

“Rutabaga, rhubarb, whatever. You go sit, I’ll bring it out to you with the ibuprofen.”

You shook your head as you stepped away from his urging embrace. “No, I need to move around a little.” Neither of you spoke as you moved to the kitchen, content in the quiet puttering as Bucky filled the kettle and popped bread in the toaster. Out of habit, he went to wash his hands when an idea hit him.

Staring blankly out the window, your thoughts drifted to your ‘to be read’ pile as you tried to decide between starting a new book from your oft-ignored stack or comfort yourself with a lovely reread. You were so lost in your musings, you didn’t track on the activity behind you.

“Babe, can you grab the butter and jam? I’m washing my hands.”

You turned around to step to the fridge, stopped in your tracks at the sight before you, and burst out laughing. 

Bucky had taken off his metal arm and put it in the dishwasher.

Hilarity pealed from you in waves, folding you over as you leaned against the counter. You tried to catch your breath and glanced up at Bucky. The proud-as-punch smile on his face set you off again, laughing so hard your shoulders twinged at you.

When a snort broke into your snickers, Bucky couldn’t help but laugh with you. Giddiness swirled with relief at your delight, and he felt prouder in that moment that he did receiving his U.S. Army Expert Marksmanship medal in ‘42. He knew he couldn’t carry your burden for you, but in this moment, he’d lightened it a bit. Moving in close, he gathered you to his chest with his other arm, relishing the feel of your giggles against him. You gasped for breath as you wiped the tears from eyes, then reached up to cup his face in your hands, smiling fondly into his twinkling gaze.

“I love you, you giant goofball. Thank you for taking such good care of me.” 

Bucky leaned down and kissed the tip of your nose.

“Gotta take care of my best girl.” Giving you the gentlest of squeezes, he then urged you back to your cozy nest. “Go sit. I’ll bring it all out in a few.”

Still grinning, you headed for your phone. “First, I gotta get my phone. This is going on Twitter!”

[theacerbicprince]

🥝🥝🥝🥝🥝

//Here we go, blog recommendations. I’ve been saving onto this one for the past few days and I am currently listening to a James Horner piece and feeling incredibly emotional and sentimental so here we fucking go. 

Some of these will be familiar but I don’t care, I love these people so much and their work is amazing and I probably wouldn’t be in the tumblr rpc if it wasn’t for them. 

@xweofmanyfaces - She is my wife, I love her to bits. I love how in depth she has gone into her characters (even down to the point that she can tell me their exact weight and all these sorts of things). She roleplays strong women, that’s her thing and these women are super strong, the sort of women who could make you feel like the most important person in the world one day and then crush your heart under their heels another day. In particular, her Lily and Narcissa are beyond precious and mean so much to Sev. They are the loves of his life in two separate universes obviously and he would do anything for them. As for mun, I can’t imagine my life without her in it and I don’t even want to attempt to. She knows exactly how much I love her and always will. 

@crucioslut - She is my twisted sister and I love how our relationship and our character’s relationships have developed since that first meme where I said I wasn’t comfortable with NSFW.... ha! Now look where we are, cissatrix, boom, there you have it. 

I write my own version of Bella as most of you will already know over with my other girls on @thestrongestmagic and, to me, crucioslut is the benchmark for writing Bella. There is so much complexity to her Bella and you truly feel the tragedy of her situation. We get to see the woman behind the madness; loyal and fiercely devoted to those that she cares about. She can be so tender and loving at times too and that’s really come to the fore with our relationship between the two sisters. 

@itswasteland - I haven’t spoken to the mun really and their Sirius and my Severus haven’t interacted but I currently have threads with their Sirius with my Molly, Tonks and Andromeda and their replies are an absolute joy to read and I greatly enjoy replying to them. They capture Sirius so well and I think it’s safe to say that the relationship between their Sirius and my Tonks is just amazing and I love it so much. They are a multi muse so winner winner chicken dinner, what more could you ask for? 

@sinisteraugurey - I have probably said this before but I cannot emphasise enough how much I disliked Delphi when I read the cursed child and then I discovered Maya through Menda and I can’t think of what my rpc experience would be like without their Delphi. They are so devoted to their character and Delphi means so much to Maya and you can see and feel that love in every single word that is written. She’s always up for a chat and I’ve really taken to her Delphi, to the point that my OC Christina over on @thedarlingmalfoy now has an AU where Delphi is her daughter, not Bella’s and it is gorgeous and wonderful. For people who don’t like the cursed child, seriously, read Maya’s version of Delphi. Personally, I think she should have written the cursed child and it would have been amazing. 

@corda-comminuta - I can’t do one of these without mentioning my dear Menda. She completely changed my view on so many characters that she writes and she’s an absolute sweetheart and has been particularly kind in checking up on me while I’ve been ill and just in general. I’ve spoken to both her and xweofmanyfaces from the very beginning and they have put my characters through so much development and I cannot thank them enough for that. Menda is so detailed when it comes to her roleplays and she does something that I absolutely adore her for; she tells me when I’ve made a mistake so I can go back and fix it. She’s like a wee editor and I adore her for it. I think of her characters on this multi as the forgotten women; Cho, Pansy, Nagini, Lily and she invests so much in pulling them away from the canon and making them feel like real people and not convenient plot devices. They have needs, desires, yearning and they are formidable in their own way. Also, as a reminder to anyone who enjoys my Voldy content over on @thetruebloodofsalazar , you have this lovely lady to thank for the blog existing in the first place. I had never planned to write Voldemort but after speaking enough with Menda, the monster was born. 

I know that’s the five done but I want to put shout outs to others as well so I’m going to pop these in a list right here. There is a chance I will miss people and if I do, I apologise. If I write with you and or talk with you then you should know that I love your content. If you don’t follow or interact with these people, I’d highly recommend changing that; @pranking-masters/ @aparecium-muses , @pureblooded , @tmvoldemort , @rodolphus-lestrangex , @wewhoareflawed , @heartscfvalor

[lavenderek]

hi guys julie and i were talking about potential star wars stories that aren’t a part of this whole skywalker destiny shit all the canon movies can’t seem to let go of

and julie’s idea surrounded lesbians and a very heavy presence of Life Day because she hates me and wants me to be unhappy

my idea does not have life day in it because i have a soul. this was my idea that i pitched to her while i did my laundry and i dont think she was very impressed but i am impressed with myself.

so our main character is kristen stewart but purple. like her skin is a dusty sort of pastel lavender. but don’t let that fool you into thinking she is delicate - she is Indiana Jones But Backwards And In Space. her hair is like leonardo dicaprio’s in titanic, but wavy. 

her name is Gax McKu and she is an archaeologist. she is the protag of a series. her whole thing is that she likes to discover and learn about ancient cultures and artifacts, but she fuckin hates museums. and if another archaeologist is sponsored by someone who instructs them to bring the artifact to a private collection or a museum, she tracks it down and steals it and puts it back where it is supposed to be. so it’s sometimes indiana jones and sometimes ocean’s 11, because she has to do a heist to get the thing back. 

it’s just that other cultures and societies are lateral moves from gax’s own, neither superior nor inferior, and if somebody took some shit from her home planet she’d be peeved. besides, if we “discover” all the shit and take it away, there will eventually be nothing left for future scientists and historians to “discover.” 

anyway, i digress. 

this all takes place well before the prequels. 

ACT I

we find our protagonist at a dig site, and she has unearthed something totally baller like the fossilized bones of a gigantic space condor or like a prehistoric buried treasure or something, and she’s just like crouching and dusting it carefully, looking very shrewd and sexy. she’s probably got like colleagues also dusting shit and one of them brings her a rock and they talk about the rock. idk. 

this planet is like a mixture of how white people see africa, and australia. like some parts are a desert and some parts are a jungle kind of moment with lots of alien creatures. 

the people whose home planet this is, is - you remember in return of the jedi when there is a keyboardist who looks like a big soft elephant puppet? 

it’s those guys.

so they come up to gax at the dig site and interrupt her work, and she is very debonair about how she stands up and brushes her hands off to speak with them. they’re mad and they’re pointing at her and stuff. she understands their language and speaks to them in english like han does. she’s like “i don’t know what you’re talking about. we are here for this excavation only.” 

they take her to one of their cities in a vehicle that’s like a wide flat oval thing with a single wheel underneath in the very center. roads are on faintly glowing tracks. this isn’t an extremely urban type of city, there is a lot of greenery and the buildings are etched adobe clay. they are well maintained. this is a people who take care of their community and have a lot of dignity. 

she is brought to what we would assume is a beautiful chapel or church or something, with lots of colors painted in a very small geometric tessellation, but gax isn’t shocked or moved by this so we can assume she is familiar with these cities and culture. 

inside there is a vast collection of like beautiful stoneware, like marble and opal and granite and shit. lovely. but the biggest pedestal is empty. they glare at her and say stuff to her. she’s very gruffly like, “why would i take your moonstone sphere? i already catalogued this, check with jan bourno.” 

they insist and so she has to travel to another city, with a nervous friend who is john cho but he’s got a computer head like that computer head guy in cloud city. 

don’t tell me who this guy is or correct me that it’s just a thing he wears like google glass, because i don’t care. it’s a computer head and im the boss. 

john cho’s name is Flienn and he’s got a devastatingly handsome beard. 

they go to the other city because she’s got to investigate who took the thing. then she finds who took the thing and it’s a white guy, obviously. she fights him. gax has this cool laser knife that uses the same tech as a light saber but it doesn’t buzz as loud or glow as bright, which means she wears it in a holster on her belt, because she’s impossibly hot. flienn is held back by henchmen. he’s very damsel in distress. but gax wins and gets the bad guy to tell her who hired him. 

he was paid to get this thing because it is expensive and the rich guy collects rich stuff. he communicated through envoy and all he has is a name and a planet. the rich guy’s name is pelius bragnar. he’s scary. flienn checks on his computer head and tells gax that all records of bragnar have been wiped from any kind of system.

ACT II

they fly to pelius bragnar’s planet, and it’s a forest planet but it’s not like the endor moon, it’s just a very vertical, tree-based city with a lot of stone paths and structures based around the trees. this place is very urban, with a huge class gap. it is heavily policed and obviously corrupt. she meets an old colleague who is now a prosecutor. she is played by gabourey sidibe. her name is Graunda. she calls gax Sabine, and it turns out gax isn’t her birth name, which flienn did not know but gax makes it clear he’s not allowed to call her sabine. 

graunda is like, “yeah i know pelius bragnar, i was trying to shut down his gang that operates a drug ring and has the police force in his pocket, and so to control me they kidnapped my little sister. i can tell you where their gang does most of its operations on this planet if you promise to save my sister.” 

gax is like, “i don’t know what about my chosen profession indicated to you i was some kind of rescuer of sisters.” 

“ok, i’ve known you for like fifteen years and it’s not like you don’t have a history of vigilantism,” says graunda, “but go off i guess.” 

flienn is all, “the sphere probably isn’t being kept where they do their gang business, but this is all we have to go on.” flienn’s whole job in the narrative is to be stressed and point out the obvious in case the viewers are kathy and don’t get it. he mapquests the way there with his computer head and they have to devise a carefully designed plan to get in, this is the ocean’s 11 part. 

gax is expecting graunda’s sister to be like some 19-year-old and is not expecting her to be the pinnacle of beauty and femininity. she’s in her mid 30s and has big hips and perfect dark skin and almond eyes with like orange eyeshadow. she looks like a monster high doll if monster high dolls were fat and shaped like real people. her hair’s in twists that she’s got all along the crown of her head like a tiara, and then the rest of her hair is in these two low buns on the back of her head and they’re really big and round. they are wrapped in a golden thread. like my point is she’s a total babe and there is a fuckload of sexual tension.

her name is Lamaa. not like llama, the accent is on the second syllable.

they find her like locked in some kind of interrogation room. flienn cracks the code to the door. lamaa’s obviously been roughed up a little bit, and is tired.  

lamaa is super upset when gax tells her they can’t leave yet. gax is like, “sorry to add to what has probably been a shitty week for you, but what i came here for is a moonstone sphere.” maybe she goes over the history of the object a little bit. idk. 

they spy on somebody who somehow reveals where pelius lives, and there is a gala there next week. they aren’t expecting the tech in this room to have spyware that detects flienn’s computer head the way your work computer knows when you’re trying to plug your phone into the usb port to charge. they have to escape. lamaa is super smart but only ok with weapons and doesn’t have a lot of upper body strength so there’s a lot of sexy peril. 

they escape by the skin of their teeth and are now wanted by the corrupt police. they have to hide out in like the tree planet equivalent of a shitty motel and there is a hot love scene between gax and lamaa obviously, like, duh. it’s very steamy and people will be jerking off to it for eight hundred years.

flienn is bi. he doesn’t have a love interest in this installment, im just putting it out there. 

ACT III

they go in disguise to the gala, which means they have to dress in formal wear, which is also extremely sexy. lamaa wears a silky backless gown and her hair is coiled in a rope braid beehive. gax wears a formal vest and her hair in a slight bouffant. flienn wears a traditional fancy costume that involves sheer fabric wrapped around him and covering part of his head. he is not religious and doesn’t usually dress this way, but he has to hide his computer head. also he’s wearing eyeliner because why don’t more dudes wear eyeliner? it’s not even because he’s bi. lots of dudes wear eyeliner where he is from. 

they sneak around and find the sphere. i guess this is ocean’s 13, when matt damon has to seduce his way into the diamonds room. they get caught in there and are all held prisoner. gax and lamaa argue but it’s obviously just because lamaa is very scared of pelius, which makes flienn even more scared of pelius, which puts gax in a bad mood. she doesn’t really get scared until the physical danger begins. 

the physical danger begins. pelius comes in, The pelius. he is a twi’lek. he does a lot of sinister taunting and gax is mad because she’s nervous. 

lamaa escapes the ropes she is tied up with somehow and is able to get gax’s laser knife to her and they have to fight pelius’s henchmen, and they steal the sphere, and while she’s there anyway lamaa steals all his fancy gold and jewels and sticks them in her cleavage. they climb to the roof and use flienn’s drapes of fabric to zipline down some like fuckin ropes strung along all the treehouses and escape. pelius is like curse you gax mcku, i would have gotten away with it too if it weren’t for you meddling adults!! and your little computer head too!!! he is left as a future antagonist. 

lamaa is obviously a target now on the tree planet, so she goes back to the elephant puppet planet with gax. there’s another love scene but gax finds all the jewels and shit in lamaa’s bra. she’s like, “you can’t keep these.” 

lamaa is like, “i figured, i just didn’t want him to have them. i don’t know where these go.” 

so future stories will probably involve them trying to put those things back while also being chased by pelius and his drug lords. 

they all return to the dig, and now lamaa is wearing archaeologist clothes like gax, and her hair is pulled to the back of her head with a fancy barrette. gax is once again interrupted, but this time it’s by the guy who stole the sphere in the first place. he’s like, “pelius is going to kill me for giving up who hired me, and it’s your fault.” 

gax is like, “you’re an embarrassment to the science of archaeology. you’ve gone against the very tenets of our profession and i don’t care what happens to you.” 

this obviously makes him feel shitty, but rather than internalizing it he just hates her guts. he leaves, and she goes back to the dig and doesn’t watch him go. but he glares with contempt over his shoulder, because he will also be an antagonist in future installments. 

and that guy’s name? 

SHEEV PALPATINE.

i’m just kidding, these are all new characters, his name is like george or something. 

the end. 

give me money.

[tofuqueen]

drunk with moonlight ; cho seungyoun

warnings: mentions of alcohol, suggestive themes

wc: 1k

Friday nights at college are a two-way street.

There are those who prefer spending their nights in the comfort of their own dorms. These are usually the art students - those who barely hang on to the thread of college by a scholarship and, therefore, must spend their nights hunched over canvas and covered in charcoal so as to maintain some semblance of sanity. It’s not that art kids don’t want to go out on a Friday night, rather they more so enjoy the risk of smoking a joint out their dorm window when a smoke alarm is not even 10 feet behind them.

At the other end of the spectrum, there are the kids who we coin ‘party animals.’ These are usually the STEM majors - kids who, while may enjoy their major, are sick of poring over textbook formulas and powerpoint slides and would much rather down their worries in shots of tequila. These kids are quite easy to pick out, specifically in the Saturday morning library rush, coffee in hand and dark circles under their eyes.

You, on the other hand, do not fit under either category. And such is how you find yourself nose-deep in the stench of cheap beer - you can’t quite pinpoint the brand, but it’s a college party, so it’s only acceptable - and huddled against a leather sofa so riddled with the aroma of cannabis, you might as well be stoned by now. Any sane person would have likely up and left, but the very source of your struggles has your legs tethered down with the weight of his sleeping figure.

As if reading your mind, Seungyoun opens his eyes. His face is blank for a moment and you figure he’s in the midst of processing why he’s sleeping on your lap in the middle of a party. Then again, it’s not like you can expect much else after downing seven shots of vodka in under an hour, claiming it was ‘for Sparta.’

After seemingly gathering his bearings, Seungyoun looks up at you from where his head lies against your thighs, and soon enough his face breaks out into a smile. A slightly dopey, albeit endearing, smile. You find it hard to even remember why you were mad at him when he smiles as if the night sky is cast against your eyes.

Though, as his face morphs into something a bit more grotesque, you realize it might not be the best idea to ogle your best friend when he’s on the verge of throwing up.

—

It’s almost 2 am when you find yourself pressed against the hardwood floors of a frat bedroom.

For the second time that night, you allow your eyes to wander across the seamless features of the boy in front of you. You silently justify your actions, eyes trailing down the expanse of his face - just making sure he won’t throw up again. But when your eyes reach the slight pout of his lips and the curve of his neck against the moonlight, you think your heart just might swell out of your chest.

“Am I drunk, or are you the most beautiful woman I have ever seen?”

It takes you a second to fully process the words that fall from Seungyoun’s mouth, before you realize he’s still drunk. You curse the part of you that wishes he meant those words.

Rolling your eyes, you raise your eyebrows at the boy across from you. “You’re drunk.”

It’s a split second kind of thing. One moment he’s splayed across the beanbag across from you, and the next he has his body placed barely millimeters from yours, hands tickling the ends of your hair.

“What are you doing?” Your voice is hardly above a whisper. Your head seems to beat so hard, you can’t quite pinpoint whether the words even escape your lips.

“Exactly what you think I am.”

Seungyoun is your constant. He is your sun and you are his moon - forever revolving around each other, but never quite touching. A boy who has been with you through all 20 years of your slightly traumatic existence. A boy who has seen you in your most repulsive of states - specifically 12 years old with a choppy excuse for bangs and metal framed glasses that were far too large for a pubescent. Yet still, a boy who is unceasing in his loyalty to stick with the absolute mess that is you.

Perhaps that is why you can’t quite bring yourself to cast your eyes down to where his lips rest just inches away from your own. It’s almost like an unspoken rule; never kiss your best friend.

“Say the word and I’ll back off. I only want this if you want it too.”

But then again, who are you to follow rules.

Kissing Seungyoun is euphoric, to say the very least. Despite his apparent tipsy state, his lips are gentle against your own. It’s not clashing teeth, nor is it a rough battle for domination. It’s the softest of brush strokes against a canvas - a mix of baby blues and canary yellows. It’s closed eyes and groping hands and touches that are far too cautious to be experienced.

Yet, as you curl your fists into the material of his linen shirt, you think you wouldn’t mind if Seungyoun painted the night sky against your lips.

—

a/n: if you got this far, thank you for reading! It’s been a while since I’ve written, as I’ve been in a bit of a creative slump, but my love for Seungyoun shined through with this piece. happy birthday to our angel💕✨🥺

[shreddedparchment]

Of Two Minds Pt.07

You’re Getting Better

06/22/2019

Pairing: Bucky x Reader x Steve          Word Count: 7003

Masterpost          Warnings: blood, violence, angst, fluff

A/N: Let me know what you think. What was your favorite part? I know mine! I hope you like it. One more chapter and this one’s over. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work. xoxo

You feel movement beside you. Your bed dips. Then rises. Then you feel warm fingers around your cold clammy hand.

Opening your eyes, you look towards the warmth and see Bucky with your smaller hand held in his large ones. Metal and flesh; ice and fire.

The sensation is nice. You like the way it feels to have him hold your hand. Especially his right. His heat is welcome against the frost in your veins.

He’s not looking at you. He’s got the sides of his hands pressed against his forehead as he mumbles something that sounds like a prayer, but you’ve never known Bucky to be religious.

Desperate times maybe? Wait…why is he desperate?

You open your mouth, but you can’t speak just yet. Your throat feels raw and sore and you realize that you’ve got something in it. You choke around it, the thing stuck in it.

Bucky’s head whips up and he stands, tense and rigid.

He’s yelling. Yelling loud but you can’t hear him. It’s muffled. Like he’s underwater.

Maybe you are? Is it a snorkel in your mouth? No.

Stupid. Snorkels go up and out of the water. Not down throats.

Bucky runs around your bed and you watch as he steps out through the open door of your hospital room?

You can hear a muted beeping now. Why are you in a hospital?

Why is Bucky so far away? You want him back beside you. Holding your hand.

You want him.

You might not know where you are or why you’re here, but you know that you love him and being near him is the only thing that will make you feel better.

The sounds of ragged breathing and gagging as you continue to choke around the tube in your mouth gets louder. Or maybe your hearing is clearing up?

Why can’t you think straight? You used to be good at making deductions.

Bucky races back to you, his hands—ice and fire again—cup the sides of your face.

He’s talking. Mouthing something that you can’t hear. His eyes are flushed with panic and his face is pale with fear. His beautiful once-pink lips are pale too. Chapped. Can his lips get chapped?

A hand surprises you as it reaches for his lips, fingers pressed to the peeling skin of his mouth.

You freeze, not recognizing the frail digits.

It takes a second, but you realize they’re yours. Your fingers. You move them again, still choking, eyes crying, and massage the torn skin.

Bucky stills too, looking down towards your fingers before reaching for them to place his own warm ones over them.

He suddenly turns away from you and you hear more muffled shouts.

An angel brightens up your room. Blonde, with storm blue eyes, pink lips—perfectly hydrated. He’s holding a large bottle of water and he shoves it into Bucky’s chest hard.

They argue. For several seconds they argue but then the blonde angel turns towards you and the name echoes in your head like a hymn.

Steve. The voice in your head coos. Steeeeeve.

And it’s his voice that you hear finally. Still muffled. Still distant. But you hear it.

“I’m here, hon.” He whispers, reaching for your forearm as Bucky slips away from you and around the end of your bed to your other side. “I’m here.”

You flood with love for him. You’re so happy to see him. Then you look at Bucky and he’s chugging the water down fast. He throws the bottle onto the seat he’d been sitting in then rushes to your side and this time when he cups your face, you can hear him.

“Calm down, baby. Cho’s on her way. You’ll be okay. Can you breathe for me?” He asks, then breathes in like he wants you to.

It’s long, slow, and deep.

Like when he makes love to me. You think chaotically.

You breathe like him and the gagging and choking stops. Tears continue to stream down along your cheeks but they’re not from the pipe anymore.

You’re crying because Steve and Bucky are here, and your heart understands something that you don’t yet.

Steve called you hon? Why?

You don’t get to linger on the thought as a tall Korean woman with beautiful dark hair pulled up into a sleek and professional updo sweeps into the room and your boys—wait, my boys?—move out of the way for her.

It doesn’t take long for her to pull the tube from your mouth and when it’s free you swallow.

“Water?” She asks, knowing just how your throat will feel.

You nod slowly as she checks your heartrate and then the monitor you’re attached to.

“I’ll get it!” Bucky says.

“I’ll get it!” Steve says.

They both spring from the room leaving you alone with Dr. Cho. Her name comes to you now and you remember her patching you up on multiple occasions. This is when you also remember that you’re on the compound.

That’s the only place that looks like this.

“You’ve got quite the devoted following.” She says with a smile.

“I do?” You ask, uncertain, looking away from the doorway where they just disappeared and up at the beautiful woman.

She nods. “Would you like to sit up?”

“Yes.” You make to sit up but Dr. Cho—Helen…you call her Helen—places her hand on your shoulder and pushes you down. “Don’t sit up. You’re still very weak, Y/N. Here.”

She reaches down to the side of your bed and presses a button that makes the top half of the bed fold upwards.

As your weight is suddenly shifted, you do feel your body shift weakly with the shift of gravity.

“What happened?” You ask Helen. She keeps the button pressed until you’re sitting up at sixty degrees.

Her smile waivers and slowly she sits herself down beside you.

“You don’t remember?” She asks, curious and appraising.

“No.” You croak. You swallow hard, thick—where’s your water?

“Here.” Bucky’s voice suddenly rings in from the doorway.

You lean around Helen to look at him. To really look at him. You’re desperate to get your eyes on him.

He’s beautiful, chapped lips aside. He’s got his dark hair pulled back into a high bun, strands of his dark hair falling around and framing his handsome face. Scruffy jaw with a beard that must have taken him a week or longer to grow. His steel blue eyes are bright with excitement and his previously pale face is now rosy. His cheeks stretch and apple as he sees you looking for him.

“I’ve got it, baby. I’ve got your water.” He says proudly and quickly hurries around to the right side of your bed again.

He holds a cup out for you, carefully holding the yellow bendy straw towards your lips so that you can take a drink.

It takes you a second to do what he wants because you’re smiling too. You feel as if you haven’t seen him in days.

No…weeks.

Your chest warms at the sight of him.

With your lips closed around the straw, you drink, and your attention is suddenly pulled to your ailing body.

Never in your life have you been this thirsty.

Wait…that’s not true.

Your mind is filled with the smell of sea salt, humid rooms made of bolted steels in shades of black and red. The taste of rust and the hot rush of blood in your mouth. There’s the startling feeling of violation that courses through your limbs and you pull back from the cup to stare at Bucky with fear and confusion.

You’re not afraid of Bucky but you’re terrified suddenly.

“Why-?” You stutter, the word catching in your throat.

“What?” Bucky asks, suddenly worried. He puts the cup aside to sit on the edge of your bed and take your hand. “What’s the matter?”

You blink hard, urging your brain to pull at the violent thread.

The image of a wet steel deck rushing up to meet your face makes you gasp, and you remember a disgusting crack and the shooting of sharp pain in your right leg.

You pull your blanket up to look at the bright pink cast on your leg.

“How-?” You begin but Helen gets up and takes hold of your chin.

She tilts your head back, pulling a small flashlight out of her pocket to point at your eyes. She checks your pupils then reaches up to feel underneath your hair and against your skull.

“What’s wrong with her?” Bucky asks Helen.

“Wrong?!” Steve’s booming voice echoes from the open doorway and you lean around Helen again, yanking your chin from her grip to get a look at Steve too.

You’re so happy to see him. More than you thought you’d be. There’s something extra there that you’re not sure you understand completely.

A yearning. You want him. You want him to hold you and kiss you. You miss it. As if you’ve felt it before.

Steve rushes up towards you and he’s wearing clean jeans, a thick plain off-white t-shirt that clings to his wide chest and shoulders pleasantly. His hair is neatly combed, straw blonde, and you can smell the citrus of his shampoo from here. Oranges and lemons.

The smell is tart, compared to Bucky’s musk but you love it all the same.

Unlike Bucky, Steve looks like he’s been taking care of himself. He’s clean shaven, smells clean-good. Not just good because it’s his smell. And he looks healthy as a horse.

You look at Bucky as Steve moves to take up a spot behind him, staring at you with intense storm blue eyes. He reaches out and places his right hand on your cast while his left holds onto a cup just like Bucky’s but inside you can see flashes of green.

Grapes!

You hear a rattle too. They’re on ice.

“She’s having some trouble with her memory.” Helen says.

“What kind of trouble?” Bucky asks, worried with that little pucker between his eyes.

You watch him, taking in his ragged appearance.

Although Steve is dressed casually, he’s kept himself well. Bucky on the other hand is wearing a pair of dark sweats. They’re wrinkled around his hips and bottom like he’s been sitting in them a long time. His t-shirt, dark gray, has a few stains around the neck.

His cheeks are a little sallow, his lips chapped as you noticed before, and his hair is slightly oily.

He hasn’t been taking care of himself.

Your mind flashes back to Steve shoving a bottle of water into Bucky’s chest angrily and you realize that Steve had been getting mad at him for neglecting himself.

You reach out and as your hand trails down the center of Bucky’s chest, searching for a hold on him as your worry builds, he takes your fingers with his and holds them on the bed.

He’s too focused on Helen to pay you any mind at the moment. Still, the gesture is one of affection and for some reason you find it much more relieving than you remember.

“Y/N?” Helen says and you tear your eyes away from Bucky to look at her. “What’s the last thing you clearly remember? The last full memory?”

You think, blinking as you look back to Bucky. Your boyfriend. So much more, really, but that word sums it up well.

You smile at him, happy and bright, then as your eyes wander up over his shoulder to meet Steve’s you shoot forward through an array of painful memories.

Steve wakes up sweating in bed beside you and you look to comfort him and you both take comfort in each other. He ruts against you and you kiss him hard, the yearning from earlier doubling.

Then you’re telling Bucky that you love Steve. Then Bucky’s hitting him. Then you’re in Steve’s arms, fast asleep. You hear Bucky say he doesn’t care about you and your heart breaks. He makes love to you to prove he was lying but then he pushes you away again at the meeting.

Aaron! You remember Aaron.

Then you and Steve are together by the lake. Bucky sees. He pushes you away one final time.

You, Bucky, and Steve aren’t talking. Bucky leaves you. You fight hard. You’re not good enough. You hit your head.

With that memory filling your head, you reach up with your left hand to touch the back of your head and notice for the first time that it’s wrapped up in gauze.

“I-I hit my head.” You realize.

“Yes.” Helen says. “Is that the last thing you remember?”

“I-I don’t know.” You whisper, confused.

“It’s okay, baby.” Bucky assures you.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. You’re doing so good. You’re getting better. That’s all that matters.” Steve hurries to say and moves around Bucky to come stand by your head.

He places his arm around your shoulders, and you feel as if you can finally breathe.

“We-” You begin but stop. Terrified. They both seem to have forgotten that you’d been fighting.

“What, Y/N” Bucky asks, leaning closer, pulling your hand back up to his chest.

Why isn’t he saying anything about Steve and his arm?

“We were fighting?” You remind them, asking too because maybe you’d dreamt that.

Bucky looks up at Steve and they exchange a loaded look before he brings those steel blues back to you. With a smile, he reaches up to cup your cheek. Cool metal against your still clammy skin.

“It’s okay, baby. We’re alright now.” He promises

There is no lie in his words, and you look up at Steve for confirmation as his hand curls around to cup your other cheek. As Bucky drops his hand back down to hold yours, Steve’s left thumb traces loving circles against your left cheekbone.

He’s staring down at you. Smiling softly.

You’re so confused.

“Bucky?” You ask, utterly befuddled.

“I’ll give you three a few minutes but then I have to come in and check your stitches, okay? And you need more rest.” She’s stern but still sweet.

“Does she have to rest right away?” Bucky asks, a melancholy longing painting his voice blue.

“Buck, she’s awake. That’s enough, right?” Steve says, gently.

Bucky meets his eyes and though he clenches his jaw, he nods once before giving you a small tight smile.

Yes. He must be thinking.

The fact that you’re awake is enough. For now.

The way Steve says it, he’s really saying, at least she’s awake and not being fed through a tube.

“I’ll be back.” Helen repeats then gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze before leaving you, Bucky, and Steve to talk.

Bucky has never known happiness like this. The moment he felt you stir his heart began to thrum wildly.

Then you were coughing and choking, and he couldn’t help the anger that surged through him. You were awake and you were struggling. Coughing. Crying. Hurting.

He’d called for Steve, desperate for help and Steve had called for Helen then raced to the room as fast as he could.

Bucky has been grateful for Steve’s presence over the past few days. Though the twerp can be annoying with his fussing, Bucky knows now as he stares into your outrageously gorgeous worried expression that he should have taken better care of himself while you slept.

He can see the small quake in your eyes as you stroke his arm.

“You look so tired.” You fuss over him.

Bucky's heart swells. His beautiful girl is so concerned about him even when she’s laying in bed, malnourished and broken.

“I’m okay.” He promises but your brow crinkles as lay your head back against your propped up pillow.

Steve's thumb is still tracing circles along your cheekbone and it gives Bucky comfort to know that someone else’s world stopped turning when you passed out on that ship.

Steve had made sure to keep himself healthy though.

Bucky smiles a little more widely as he remembers Steve’s nagging.

You’re being an idiot. When she wakes up, you’re going to make her worry. She needs to be relaxed, Buck.

Bucky had only brooded in silence, holding your hand, kissing your knuckles.

Steve had sat on your other side, stroking your bandaged head and cheek. Kissing your shoulder and cheeks when he couldn’t help himself.

Now that you’re finally awake, talking, smiling, worrying Bucky doesn’t know how he’s going to break away from you to clean up.

When can you go back upstairs? He wants you in his bed, asleep. With him.

“What happened?” You ask, voice curious and unsure. “I remember falling. Breaking my leg. Then you.”

You reach up to touch Bucky’s cheek and he leans into your hand, grateful for your consciousness. You’re still so lifeless though. Cold.

“You came for me.” You gush and Bucky’s heart constricts painfully.

Had you doubted he would? Had he been so harsh with you that you’d actually thought that you could get taken and he wouldn’t tear the world apart looking for you?

He looks up at Steve who is also morose. Stunned by this fact, Bucky cups the hand you’re holding on his cheek and presses it firmly against him, desperate to convey his true feelings.

“I will always come for you, Y/N. You are my life.” And when your eyes water and you begin to cry, the tiny elated smile that curves your lips breaks his heart.

You’d seriously thought he didn’t want you. Love you. That he wouldn’t come for you. Had you thought that about Steve?

He’ll ask you later.

No. It doesn’t matter.

He hurt you. He needs to make it right.

“Really?” You ask him, tearing small chunks of his heart out with your words. “You’re not mad at me anymore?”

“Someone took you from me, Y/N.” He has to stop to swallow because it’s hard to push past the lump in his throat. “You could shoot out my knee-caps and I wouldn’t be angry at you right now.”

You laugh.

His heart is a-flame. His bones are jelly. His stomach is in flutters. He scoots closer, burying his face into your stomach as he wraps his arms around your waist and holds you.

Your laugh makes it all worth it for him and when your hands sift through his greasy, dirty, disgusting hair, he squeezes you tighter.

You chuckle again. Happy. You’re laughing because you’re just so happy. Bucky will always try to make you this happy. From this day until the day that he dies.

Steve tries not to speak.

Bucky needs this. He needs to feel you here with them. Steve had already lived through this moment when Bucky had placed you in his arms on the deck of that ship.

His desperate need to feel you close, to feel your heart beating against his, to feel the warmth—despite the fact that you’re not as warm because of your infection—of your body pressed against his; it had been sated thanks to Bucky’s understanding of Steve’s misery, at his utter failure to keep you safe.

He’d just about lost his mind several times while he and Bucky had searched for you.

It wasn’t visible. Not to the others.

While Tony scanned and scanned and searched and waited, Steve had secluded himself to a corner of the jet and wrung his hands. Fingers twitched and pulled as he stared at the floor of the jet.

Nat paced but then got an idea and contributed. She had at least been able to help and do something.

Steve felt so useless. He had been useless. All he could think about were the other options. The different paths he might have been able to take to prevent this from happening.

Lingering on what could have been instead of focusing on the task at hand wasn’t like him. He’d known it when it was happening.

Sam had lingered close by. Nervously watching Steve worry. Only Sam and Bucky could see the war waging beneath the surface. The push and pull of Steve’s mind as it contemplated and argued about his carelessness and the need to save Sam but his utter lack of responsibility leaving you alone.

For three days Steve had wallowed. He’d been inconsolable and no one tried. No one attempted to make him feel better because they all knew that there was no making him feel better.

Sam had tried to apologize but Steve had walked away from him without saying a word.

~~~~~~~~~~

Steve can hear Sam’s defeated sigh and he should want to tell him that it’s not his fault. It isn’t. Wasn’t.

But you’re still gone.

You’ve been taken from him.

You’ve been discovered as an Avenger.

That asshole jerk knows what side you’re truly on now.

What will he do to you? Torture you? Slowly? Kill you?!

Steve punches the wall of the jet as the cocktail of rage and agony bubbles up in his chest and explodes.

“That’s coming out of your paycheck.” Tony calls back to him, but he doesn’t wait for a response which is good since Steve won’t give him one.

He sits himself down in the furthest seat from the front on the left side of the jet and that’s where he sits for the next three days.

He gets up. Duh, of course he gets up. He has to. He must.

There’s no possibility of him not barreling through every single lead Tony, Nat, and Bruce find.

Sam leaves to chase one of the leads with Wanda and Vision while Thor scours the furthest most remote parts of the planet.

Everyone is looking for you so how can he just sit there? No. Steve just about loses his mind.

Every thug is Aaron and every thug is beaten to a bloody pulp.

Bucky stops him every single time.

It starts out the same every time.

They land.

Steve and Bucky race at top speed down the back ramp, tuck and roll onto the rooftop of whatever building they’re searching.

Most of them are in busy cities. New York. Paris. London. Prague. Los Angeles. This one’s in San Francisco.

Steve is the first to regain his footing—which doesn’t say much as it takes both of them mere split seconds to find their balance on their feet and rush forward—and he crashes through the rooftop door, shield first.

It clangs loudly, warning the vermin in the building that they aren’t safe. They should run.

They won’t get away.

They take the building one floor at a time. Clearing it out in minutes.

When the last thug is found, Steve doesn’t hold back. He throws his shield at the loser.

It hits his chest with a sickening crack. Ribs broken.

Steve doesn’t bother to catch it. It clatters to the floor as he grabs the thug’s shirtfront. He picks him up, flips him with one arm and then leans over the thug’s nearly crippled body and punches his face over and over and over and over and over.

There’s red on his knuckles. There’s red on the floor. There’s red all over the thug’s face.

Steve can’t even see the whites of his eyes.

He feels the brittle break of teeth underneath his fist.

He’s not even searching for information. He just wants to hurt someone.

That feeling is familiar, but it has never been this strong before. It has never consumed him like this.

He’d hated Hydra and the Nazi party, and he’d hated those bullies that picked on him as a kid. He’d hated the ones who’d taken Bucky from him and he’d wanted to eradicate them but never hurt them.

He’d never wanted to see them bleed. Not like this.

His bloodlust runs until Bucky’s pulling him back. He strong arms him away from the thug. The shirt Steve’s holding onto rips.

It’s not until Bucky pulls him away that he sees the nearly limp form on the floor. His shoulders are rising and falling hard. His hand is shaking, tight and compact. A fist.

His vision flows red with fury and he takes steps towards the broken body again, but Bucky holds out his metal forearm and pushes him back.

“Steve, stop.” Bucky says sternly.

“Ask him where she is.” Steve’s deep voice is surprisingly even.

“What if he can’t talk?” Bucky asks, and Steve suddenly realizes Bucky’s angry too. At him. For beating the thug?

Whose side is Bucky on?

Bucky must see the doubt in Steve’s face because he grabs him by his uniform and pulls him close.

He’s begging, angrily, but pleading with Steve all the same.

Steve meets his eyes and doesn’t relent.

“Don’t forget why we’re here.”

“You think I’d forget that?!”

“Then snap out of it. We don’t have time for anger.” Bucky gives him a shake.

Steve’s hands shoot up to hold his fists, pulling on them for release but Bucky doesn’t let go.

“She’s out there, Steve. I know-It’s not your fault.” Bucky’s voice shifts into strained pleading and it melts a little of Steve’s cold and calculated humor. “You hear me? I should have been there with her. We both lost her.”

Steve’s hands change from angry claws into searching grasps of comfort.

Bucky’s right and Steve can see that.

“You get one good punch. Maybe two if the guy’s big enough.” Bucky tells him. “Then you have to stop. We need them to be able to talk.”

Steve looks over Bucky’s shoulder to look at the bloody mess of a human on the floor. The guy is seriously wrecked.

“We need to find her, Buck.” Steve finally manages to mutter, turning his eyes back on his life-long friend.

“I know.” Bucky gives him another shake. A reassuring one this time. “Let’s ask this guy if he knows anything and hope you didn’t break his jaw.”

Steve keeps his word. Every time after that, he gets his one punch and then he steps back and lets Bucky ask his questions.

In the jet, he retreats again but Bucky sits with him. Together, they fume and think about you.

“I can’t not have her, Buck.” Steve says forlornly. The memory of not speaking to you before you’d been taken is replayed in his mind on a loop.

Steve also knows that the look you gave Bucky when he chose to leave you and go with Tony’s team must be playing itself on a loop in Bucky’s head.

“I’m not going to push her away anymore.” Steve admits.

“I know.” Bucky relents.

He sighs deeply, shakes his head once, and clasps his hands together before leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He looks up at Steve and the only thing Steve can do is stare at his best friend.

Does that mean what he thinks it means?

“You won’t have to. I think I always knew that it would come to this. I don’t want to lose her, and I know you love her. Maybe more than I do.” Bucky shrugs. “We’ll tell her together. When we find her. Because we’re gonna get her back.”

Steve’s chest burns with new determination. It flows through him like lava, igniting his resolve. When he finds you, you’re officially going to be his girl. It won’t be some dream anymore. You’ll belong to each other. All three of you.

Bucky too. Steve loves him. Not the way he loves you but, in some ways, that love is deeper. Perhaps it doesn’t burn as bright, but it flows like magma.

“We’ll get her back.” Bucky repeats, his own tenacity burning in his tone.

“Damn straight.” Steve agrees.

~~~~~~~~~~

Bucky clings to you, his face buried into your stomach and Steve knows this is right. Bucky had been so strong, holding him up through his own meltdown, that he doesn’t want to interrupt his best friend as he feels it.

It’s so good to have you back where they can touch you. Steve can’t take his arm away from your shoulders. He has to touch you. Some part of you. Any part of you.

He needs to know you’re really here.

Steve watches you stroke Bucky’s hair until Bucky pulls back to look up at you. He hooks his hand gently around your neck and Steve watches him kiss you.

His heart swells. Watching Bucky kiss you fills him with ease. You’re really home.

Then you look up at him, at Steve, and Steve leans down, moving slow until he can press his lips against yours.

They’re chapped. Like Bucky’s, but soft, and somehow warm. Steve relishes in their softness but kisses you gently. Like a flower with its crushable petals, you’re his tulip and he needs to be careful.

Your eyes search for Bucky as Steve pulls back and the fear in your eyes is understandable.

The last time Bucky had seen the two of you exchange affection it had been more sexual than loving, though there had indeed been lots of love there too. Bucky had broken your heart by telling you that he couldn’t share you.

That he wouldn’t.

“It’s okay.” Bucky tells you, pulling your hand back up to his lips to kiss it.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” You say, voice cracking, and near tears.

Steve loves how you’re so worried about Bucky. He loves that softness underneath all that darkness that had brought you into his world.

“You’re not.” Bucky promises. “I want you to be happy, Y/N. I want Steve to be happy too. I’m happy.”

Steve finds himself searching his best friend’s face too, just like you are.

As Bucky’s eyes meet his, Bucky huffs a laugh.

“I’m serious. Both of you. But I call first night. I need to hold you.” Bucky says just to you, and Steve is so happy he agrees.

He claps Bucky’s shoulder and then gives it a squeeze. “You got it pal.”

It takes an excruciatingly long amount of time to get released from the medical bay.

Helen likes that you don’t forget things anymore, but she doesn’t like that you don’t seem to remember the two weeks where you’d been gone.

Your pneumonia got better first. Then your strength came back.

Your leg, still broken, will be the last to heal.

You had also been a little heartbroken when you realized they’d had to shave almost the entire back of your head to stitch it up.

To hear Bucky and Steve however, it hadn’t diminished your beauty one bit and they kind of liked the strange half shaved hairstyle. Because you needed to keep your hair away from your stitches, you kept I up in a messy bun anyway.

For two weeks you had all of your team members visit. Thor made you laugh with stories of his adventures while you’d been asleep and funny things he’d seen while looking for you.

Sam apologized and you scolded him for it which he was grateful for. He liked seeing you up with your usual fire, or so he’d said. Everyone came and went regularly, bringing you gifts and food and fun things to do.

It’s been two weeks since you’d woken up and you’re finally able to go upstairs.

As Steve helps you up, Bucky gathers your things, nearly bouncing on his feet with the excitement of finally having you back where you belong. His room—or so he says.

“Careful.” Steve says, arm wrapped around your waist as he gets you up.

“I’m okay, Steve. I’m a fighter.” You tell him.

“I know that, you rescued yourself for Christ’s sake. Nearly killed yourself doing it, but whatever, right?” He grumbles.

“Oh my God!” You gasp, half-laughing. “If I’d known I was going to gain two nagging boyfriends, I would have just let Aaron have me.”

It’s a joke in poor taste and both Steve and Bucky hiss at you for it.

“I’m joking!” You laugh and they seem to relax. “If you’re going to make this much fuss why not just carry me?”

You’re joking about this too, but Steve doesn’t seem to realize that because he dips and lifts you up, carrying out of the room as he holds you close to his chest.

“I was kidding!” You gasp.

“Too bad.” Steve retorts, a big grin on his beautiful pink lips.

You stare at them, still uncomfortable with showing him affection while Bucky’s around.

This is all new territory and you’re not sure when Bucky will snap. What if he changes his mind?

Ugh, but you really wanna kiss Steve’s pretty lips. They’re so…You go for it.

You wrap your arm around his neck and pull him down for a nice long chaste smooch.

He huffs, laughing as he returns your kiss.

Bucky grumbles and your heart panics until you hear what he’s grumbling about.

“Why the hell did you bring dominoes? She doesn’t even know how to play.”

Steve pulls back and kisses you once more really quick as you look around to see if Bucky’s watching and he is indeed looking at the two of you.

You lick your lips, nervous.

His jealousy is either completely gone or he’s just gotten really good at hiding it.

“I didn’t know she was going to get to come upstairs today. I brought it for us. We’ve been in there every day since she woke up. Maybe she’s tired of hearing War stories?”

“So, what? You wanted to teach her how to play dominoes?” Bucky asks, unimpressed.

“I never get tired of your war stories.” You tell them, but they’re not listening to you.

“I never got to teach her.” Steve argues.

“Dominoes, Steve?! I mean, can’t you act the age you look and not the age you actually are?”

“What’s wrong with dominoes?”

“Nothing’s wrong with it, it’s just—why not some Gin Rummy instead?” Bucky asks, hopeful.

Steve laughs. “Are you serious?”

“What’s wrong with Gin Rummy?!” Bucky asks as all three of you load the elevator.

“You just like winning.” Steve tells him.

“You just hate that I always beat you.” Bucky teases.

This is when you realize that it’s really true. It’s really happened. You are officially dating both Bucky and Steve and they’re both okay with it.

“You just wanna bore our girl.” Bucky says, bringing your attention back to their conversation.

You’ve missed part of it.

He reaches out and tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, balancing a bag with all the stuff you’d accumulated in your recovery room over two weeks in his metal hand.

You smile at him, heart soaring.

Our girl!

He leans in and gives you a quick peck.

They argue all the way to your shared floor. When they step out with you into the hallway, you find yourself standing in front of Steve’s door. Bucky’s room is the last one, furthest from the small living room you three share. Then your room is on the opposite side of the hall.

For several tense seconds, the three of you stare quietly at Steve’s door. You know that Steve’s probably thinking about the agreement he’d made that Bucky would get you in his room first.

You see the dilemma in his eyes, and you need to uphold his word for him if he can’t do it himself.

He’d promised. If the three of you are going to make this work, you’ll all have to do this right.

Reaching up you turn his storm blue eyes on you.

“Bucky’s room, right?” You ask, eyebrows raised high on your forehead.

Bucky’s staring at the floor, uncertain.

This is new for all of you.

“Right.” Steve says, sighing lightly while his arms tighten around you. “Right.”

He turns and moves towards the right while a surprised Bucky moves out of his way. You smile at him as you pass him.

Bucky’s door is already open and Steve moves to place you on his bed carefully.

He lays you so that your back is against Bucky’s dark wooden headboard.

“Are these new, baby?” You ask, Bucky moves inside and drops the bag he’d been carrying in the seat by his desk.

He looks up to watch you slide your hand along the light blue sheets on his bed. They’re so soft.

“Yeah. I wanted to start fresh.” He says. “Get you something soft to sleep in.”

“How is this going to work?” Steve asks, bursting the easy bubble you and Bucky had been trying to maintain.

“Do we have to talk rules right now?” You ask, even though you know there’s no getting around it.

“Hon, we gotta work this out.” Steve says.

Bucky sighs and moves to sit at the foot of the bed. “He’s right.”

You slump back against the headboard and sigh as lightly as you can.

Bucky looks at Steve and Steve looks at Bucky. You watch them both.

“Alternating nights?” Steve asks.

“Maybe later. That’ll be hard on her right now since she’s injured.” Bucky points out. “Alternating weeks?”

Steve nods.

“I get Fridays for dates. You get Saturdays.” Bucky says.

“Parties?” Steve asks. “Tony’s already planning one for her release from the med bay.”

“Together.” Bucky says, strong and sure.

“Unless one of us doesn’t want to go?” Steve asks.

“Yeah. Or one of us leaves early.”

“Don’t I get a say in this?” You ask, exasperated with both of them for planning without you.

“Of course.” Bucky says, “You get to decide the other stuff.”

“What other stuff?”

It seems that they’re both on the same page though, because Steve’s cheeks flush pink as he reaches up to scratch the back of his head.

“The…the other stuff, hon. The sex stuff.” He says, low and quiet.

“Oh.” You realize, cheeks burning.

You give Bucky a nervous glance but he’s watching you with a stoic expression.

“I mean…” You begin. “So long as I want it and you want it, any time is okay with me.”

You shrug a shoulder and move your eyes from Bucky to Steve.

You don’t know why you hadn’t thought about the fact that you can now have sex with Steve yet. It’s the final step in cementing your relationship with him as really taking it to the next level.

He’s been your best friend for so many years.

You’re suddenly very aware of how much you want him. You lick your lips. Focus.

“So, no designated nights?” Bucky asks. “I like it. No interrupting dates, though.”

“Agreed.” Steve says, shifting his yearning gaze away from you to look at Bucky. “Y/N initiates. If she’s with one of us and she…she wants to be with the other, she has to come looking for us.”

“Yes.” Bucky agrees. “But if she’s alone?”

“Anything goes.” Steve says.

What if you want them both? Or they want you at the same time? Like right now...Focus!

You don’t dare speak the thought aloud, but you do wonder.

“If something special comes up, we need to meet and talk all together. We don’t make any decisions without each other. That goes for home-life and on mission.” You tell them.

“Together.” Steve repeats.

“Together.” Bucky nods.

Finally, together.

Bucky likes the way you feel curled up against him. You’re perfect there, in his arms. Tucked into his side as you sleep soundly.

Your snore is cute, and he reaches down to trace the shape of your nose on more than one occasion.

He and Steve had spent the day keeping you company in here but when the sun had gone down, Steve had gotten to his feet and reluctantly told you goodnight.

It was awkward. Bucky keeps thinking about it.

The conversation about how the three of you would try to handle this relationship had left some big questions in his head.

The most important of course would be whether the three of you can successfully make this work.

He knows that he gives you something that Steve can’t give you and vice versa.

He’s not worried about you not loving him anymore. Instead, he’s thinking on a whole new wavelength.

What if you need what they can each give you, all at once?

He hears the small click of his door and his steel blue eyes fly to the small crack.

Bucky can see a storm blue iris, peeking in nervously.

Bucky realizes that it must be hard for Steve to be without you when he’d been by your side for so long. Plus, having recently lost you for two weeks...

The storm blue eye drinks your sleeping form in. The door opens a bit more and Bucky can see the relief flash across Steve’s face.

He must have been worried for you. How you’re doing.

Steve looks up at him finally and then freezes, caught peeping. He’s so still that Bucky almost laughs but instead he just stares right back.

That wondering filters back to the forefront of his mind and he gives you a glance. The way you’re fisting his shirt, hand curled around the fabric over his chest.

The crease between your eyes. You’re clinging to him. Your body is tense despite the soft snoring. Not completely at ease.

Bucky looks back at Steve through the three-inch crack of his door and holds out his metal hand. He curls his fingers, calling him in.

Steve stands straighter, letting his arm push the door open some more before he steps in.

“Shut the door.” Bucky tells him.

You hum, a pained moan, before you settle again.

Steve shuts the door then moves towards the bed.

Very slowly, as if he’s waiting for Bucky to send him away, he climbs in until he’s settled in on his left side, curled around your back.

Instantly, Bucky feels your body melt some more. He watches your hand relax and places his own over it.

Steve’s hand finds its way beside them and with a sigh, Bucky laces his pinky through Steve’s, pulls it closer so that his hand is halfway between your hand and his own.

Bucky stares at the three hands, his pinky still laced around Steve’s, and considers how it makes him feel to hold his best friend’s hand over their girl’s.

It doesn’t suck.

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[ibboard]

Recently saw a huge long thread of “which character are you like”, and then Matt Mercer posted the link and his full results.

I was guessing some of the scores (”slovenly or stylish” or “disarming vs creepy”? What kind of scale are those?) but it’s probably not entirely wrong.

I don’t know the top ones, but Data, Simon Tam, C-3PO  and Ross Gellar probably isn’t far out, and I’m happy to see Giles in the top 25!

Everyone over 75% (which starts with Hermione)

Bernard Lowe (Westworld): 90%

Lane Pryce (Mad Men): 90%

Chidi Anagonye (The Good Place): 90%

Filius Flitwick (Harry Potter): 89%

Data (Star Trek: The Next Generation): 89%

Amy Farrah Fowler (The Big Bang Theory): 88%

Simon Tam (Firefly + Serenity): 88%

Dr. Chan Kaifang (Space Force): 88%

Brian Johnson (The Breakfast Club): 88%

C-3PO (Star Wars): 87%

Dr. Marcus Brody (Raiders of the Lost Ark): 87%

Ross Geller (Friends): 86%

Waylon Smithers (The Simpsons): 86%

Felix Gaeta (Battlestar Galactica): 86%

Evan (Superbad): 86%

Peter (The Room): 86%

Thufir Hawat (Dune): 86%

Artie Abrams (Glee): 86%

Dr. Adrian Mallory (Space Force): 86%

Al Robbins (CSI: Crime Scene Investigation): 86%

Dr. Shaun Murphy (The Good Doctor): 86%

Tom Hagen (The Godfather): 86%

Leonard Hofstadter (The Big Bang Theory): 85%

Sheldon Cooper (The Big Bang Theory): 85%

Rupert Giles (Buffy the Vampire Slayer): 85%

Timothy McGee (NCIS): 85%

Count Alexei Karenin (Anna Karenina): 85%

David Rosen (Scandal): 85%

David Phillips (CSI: Crime Scene Investigation): 85%

Pope (Outer Banks): 85%

Odo (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine): 84%

Nick Carraway (The Great Gatsby): 84%

Raymond Holt (Brooklyn Nine-Nine): 84%

Jared Dunn (Silicon Valley): 83%

Ash (Alien): 83%

Jack Crawford (The Silence of the Lambs): 83%

Bruce Banner (Marvel Cinematic Universe): 82%

Abed Nadir (Community): 82%

Mycroft Holmes (Sherlock): 82%

Donald Mallard (NCIS): 82%

Jimmy Palmer (NCIS): 82%

Ray Ploshansky (Girls): 82%

Linus Caldwell (Ocean's 11): 82%

Severus Snape (Harry Potter): 81%

Dexter Morgan (Dexter): 81%

John Munch (Law & Order: SVU): 81%

Jasper Hale (Twilight): 81%

Michael Bluth (Arrested Development): 81%

Kimball Cho (The Mentalist): 81%

Dr. Aaron Glassman (The Good Doctor): 81%

Dr. Jennifer Melfi (The Sopranos): 81%

Mr. Darcy (Pride and Prejudice): 80%

Charlie Carson (Downton Abbey): 80%

Miranda Hobbes (Sex and the City): 80%

Norman Wilson (The Wire): 80%

Peter Gregory (Silicon Valley): 80%

Amy Santiago (Brooklyn Nine-Nine): 80%

Marty Byrde (Ozark): 80%

Geordi La Forge (Star Trek: The Next Generation): 80%

Dr. Eric Foreman (House, M.D.): 80%

Oliver Hampton (How To Get Away With Murder): 80%

Ellen Parsons (Damages): 80%

Preston Burke (Grey's Anatomy): 79%

Lisa Simpson (The Simpsons): 79%

The Narrator (Fight Club): 79%

Billy Keikeya (Battlestar Galactica): 79%

Dana Scully (The X-Files): 79%

Walter Skinner (The X-Files): 79%

Henry Rearden (Atlas Shrugged): 79%

Johnny Rose (Schitt's Creek): 79%

Kenny Stowton (Killing Eve): 79%

Q (Tommorrow Never Dies): 79%

Brandon Stark (Game of Thrones): 78%

Cedric Daniels (The Wire): 78%

Alfred Pennyworth (The Dark Knight): 78%

Ray Arnold (Jurassic Park): 78%

Richard Hendricks (Silicon Valley): 78%

Donald Cragen (Law & Order: SVU): 78%

Randall Pearson (This Is Us): 78%

Jimmy Price (Hannibal): 78%

Caitlin Snow (The Flash): 78%

Capt. Oliver Queenan (The Departed): 78%

Varys (Game of Thrones): 77%

Principal Skinner (The Simpsons): 77%

Elsie Hughes (Westworld): 77%

Arthur (Inception): 77%

Dwight Schrute (The Office): 76%

Leo McGarry (The West Wing): 76%

Toby Ziegler (The West Wing): 76%

Jin-Soo Kwon (LOST): 76%

Dr. Strange (Marvel Cinematic Universe): 76%

Richard Webber (Grey's Anatomy): 76%

Lucius Fox (The Dark Knight): 76%

Daniel Jackson (Stargate SG-1): 76%

Betsy Heron (Mean Girls): 76%

Robert Fischer (Inception): 76%

Alan Harper (Two and Half Men): 76%

Jonah Byrde (Ozark): 76%

Dr. James Wilson (House, M.D.): 76%

Janet (The Good Place): 76%

Captain Jim Brass (CSI: Crime Scene Investigation): 76%

[witchymarvelspacecase]

Promise Not to Be Mad

Warnings: Fluff, mutual pining, Angst, mentions of injuries, cardiac arrest, more fluff

My entry to @whiskey-cokenfanfic‘s birthday challenge. It’s a day late cause I’m a piece of shit person. Sorry!!! Hope the birthday was amazing!

Prompt is in bold.

Bucky had fallen asleep in the common room. He’d been watching a movie with Sam, Wanda, and you. When he opened his, Sam and Wanda were both gone, and the TV was turned off. There was a blanket over his shoulders, and your head was in his lap. He didn’t remember you being that way before he fell asleep, but he was pleasantly surprised. There was a blanket draped over you too. Bucky suspected Sam was behind the blankets, but knew he’d never admit to it.

Sunlight was just starting to spill through the windows of the tower and the rays lit up the dust motes in the air, making them seem to sparkle. Subtle highlights in your hair sparkled too. The light brushed you face softly, giving you an otherworldly glow. Bucky wished he had some of Steve’s talent just then; he didn’t even have a camera handy.

And the moment wasn’t long-lived either. No sooner had Bucky made a conscious effort to commit the beauty before him to memory, than an alarm began blaring throughout the tower. 

You shot up out of his lap, or at least, you tried to. The blanket tangled around you and caused you to flop unceremoniously on the floor.

“Mornin’ sunshine,” Bucky chuckled. 

You gave him a tired glare which would have been much more fearsome had you not been sporting sleep marks on your face from the creases in Bucky’s pants. 

He helped you up and you both sprinted to the conference room.

“Ah, sleeping beauty,” Sam called as you entered the room. You weren’t sure who Sam was referring to, but you flipped him off anyway, before directing your attention to Steve and Tony. 

“U.N. compound is under attack. They don’t have the resources to defend themselves, and we’re pretty sure the attackers have ties to more than one international terrorist organization, so we’re up. Wheels up in 20.”

The file you picked up as you boarded the quinjet told you more. An untold number of insurgents with automatic weapons and some alien tech were hitting the U.N.. The building was in some tiny European country you’d never heard of, but there were more than a few dignitaries in residence at the moment, and this had all the potential to become a war if not handled properly.

“Couldn’t have waited an hour before they attacked, I was having a good dream,” you grumbled as you strapped into your seat.

“Well you certainly looked comfy enough, cuddling up with Bucky n’ all.”

“Shut up, Steve.”

“Well ya were,” Steve smiled as he continued teasing you. 

Honestly, you’d been pretty mortified that you’d fallen asleep on Bucky like that. It would have been bad enough if Steve saw you, but the fact that Bucky had been awake and sen you? God you wanted to die. 

More than once you had the urge to cuddle with Bucky, more than once you had wanted nothing more than to lean into him, or hug him, but you just felt you couldn’t. You wouldn’t throw yourself at him like that. This wasn’t the first time Steve had teased you about this either. He knew how you felt about Bucky. More than one drunken, or emotional confession had poured form your lips, and Steve was always willing to listen. You would regret the confessions later though; he didn’t mean anything by his picking on you, but sometimes it was too much.

You looked away from Steve, checking your gear again to avoid his gaze.

“What, it’s sweet,” Steve continued. He sat next to you even though his chair was on the other side of the jet. Jerk. He wasn’t gonna let up.

“Let it go, Steve. I’m already embarrassed about it.”

“What’s there to be embarrassed about?”

When you looked up, ready to chew him out, you caught his expression. He looked genuinely confused. Odd. You’d thought he’d been making fun of you. But before you could ask him about it, Bucky boarded the jet. He was the last to board so take off was initiated. Steve moved to his assigned seat, next to Bucky, and you were left confused.

…

“Hey Buck,” Steve said quietly as the jet flew to the U.N. building, “why would she be embarrassed that I saw you two cuddle up this morning?” Bucky caught Steve’s nod in your direction, but he wasn’t sure what to say. His face must have said as much, because Steve continued. “I mean, we all know you like each other. I just figured you’d finally figured it out. She’s got no reason to be embarrassed.”

“You what?” Bucky practically shouted.

“What what?”

“Why would you think we were- what do you mean “like each other”?”

“Seriously? Aside from the fact that you both practically moon over each other? I am friends with both of you. I talk to both of you. I know both of you,” Steve responded, exasperated.

“Yeah? And?”

“Think about how I know that you like her. Then ask yourself how I would know if she liked you.” Steve turned from Bucky’s lost face to look across the jet, a smirk on his lips.

Bucky didn’t have time to ponder that thought, final descent was called and everyone checked their gear one last time.

“After this,” Bucky thought. He could hear the chaos; gunshots and explosions already. “After this is over, Stevie and I are gonna have a talk.” The sounds of battle increased in volume. Bucky met your gaze and you gave him a grin. His heart kicked in his chest. Could Steve be right? No way did he deserve her, but if she chose him? Fuck, he’d do anything for her. He returned her grin with a wink as the jet’s rear door lowered.

It felt like moments later, but in reality hours had passed. Most of the insurgents had been cleared out, and all the civilians had been moved into the compound, to safety. A steady rain had begun to pour from the sky making your jobs harder, but the team was down to the last handful of enemies when it happened. 

Bucky heard you shout for Wanda, saw you running for her, pushing her out of the way. Then nothing. He couldn’t hear the gunshots anymore. He couldn’t hear Steve yelling. All he could hear was the sound of his own breathing, and over that, the echo of your scream. He felt like it took him far too long to cross the field to you. He didn’t feel pain as his knees hit the ground beside you, and he didn’t notice how his pants grew damp with a combination of rain water and your blood. 

Your eyes were wide open, but it was like you couldn’t see. Bucky had his hands on either side of your face, cupping your cheeks, but you didn’t look at him until he called your name.

“Hey,” you said weakly, a grimace ruining the smile you tried to give Bucky.

“Hey yourself. I thought you said it was Sam’s turn to get shot?” Bucky tried to keep his tone light as he assessed you. He could barely see anything with the dark tac-suit you had on combined with the cloud filled sky. The rain made it hard to discern what was blood and what was water. For a moment he wasn’t sure you had been wounded at all, until his hand brushed your abdomen.

You gasped, then a pain filled whine fell from your lips as Bucky applied pressure to the heavily bleeding hole below your ribs. 

He called over the comms for someone, anyone. He needed to get you out, to get you help, but everyone was engaged. Bucky all but screamed. More insurgents appeared around him, and for a moment, Bucky hesitated. He knew if he took the pressure off your wound, you might die, but if he didn’t handle the attackers, you would both die.

He hesitated a moment too long.

You managed to pull a gun from your thigh holster, and put bullets into three of the attackers before any of them even noticed you. The moment one of the opposing gun barrels pointed at you, Bucky moved.

Moments later, he stood over the fallen bodies of the insurgents. He hadn’t meant to kill any of them, at least not in the beginning. Now? Now, he didn’t bother to check any of them for vitals. Now, he moved quickly back to you.

Your color was awful. Where you’d once had a healthy glow, your skin was ashen. You were shaking slightly, and your lips had a bluish tint to them. Bucky’s knees hit the ground by your head and he carefully pulled you up so your shoulders were resting on his lap. 

“Did we get them all?” you asked. 

Bucky smiled, but tears were pooling in his eyes. “Yeah, we did. You got most of ‘em for me though, I just cleaned up.”

You tried to laugh, but it hurt so bad. You could barely breathe. Short, shallow pants were all you could manage.

Bucky’s fingers were gentle where they glided over your cheeks, wiping away the rain water, muck, and blood. You gave him a wan smile when one of his hands reached for yours, and you forced your non-responsive fingers to thread through his.

“Please don’t go.” Bucky’s whisper surprised you a little. 

“You had to know I wasn’t gonna live forever, Bucky. No one does.”

“You don’t have to live forever, you just have to live!” he yelled. He was angry, but not sure at whom.

“I’m tryin’,” you coughed and something warm trickled from your lips. “Promise you won’t be mad … if I fail?”

“I could never be mad at you, doll,” Bucky choked as tears spilled over his cheeks.

Sam and Steve appeared as your eyes closed. The rest of the insurgents had turned tail and run. The Avengers were pulling back into the compound. A flurry of activity ensued. Bucky was unaware of most of it. He saw you being placed on a gurney and taken away from him, and it was like his mind went blank. 

Next thing he knew, he was ensconced in a very uncomfortable plastic chair, staring at the blood encrusting his hands, as Steve paced in front of him.

…

Garbled announcements came over the P.A. Helen Cho power walked past him, and through a set of double doors, barely pausing to take a clipboard that the nurse offered to her. 

More and more people in scrubs dashed past, but Bucky could barely tell. All he could see was your smiling face turning into a pained grimace, and all he could hear was you asking him not to be angry with you.

It was all so very far away from where the day had begun. All he’d wanted a few hours ago was to tell you how beautiful you were. Now, maybe he’d missed his chance. He wouldn’t get to tell you, wouldn’t ever be able to kiss you if…

“Please live. Please,” Bucky whispered, his eyes shut tight against the hospital’s bright lights.

…

That was where Tony found him. Hunched over in a tiny chair, looking as if the weight of the world had fallen on his shoulders.

Tony knew that feeling, but he didn’t know how to help. Fortunately, Wanda walked in behind him. She stepped around Tony to crouch in front of Bucky.

“C’mon Bucky. We need to get you cleaned up before she wakes up. She’ll tell us all off for letting you sit around like this.” Wanda kept her tone soft, but her grip was firm as she tugged Bucky out of his chair, and down the hallway. Tony wondered is she may have used a bit of her powers, since Bucky didn’t utter a single protest at being removed from the area, but he didn’t ask, instead he walked over to stand next to Steve.

“Any news?” he asked.

“She’s lost a lot of blood, and there was damage to her stomach.” The men both looked out the window. “The doc was optimistic the last time I checked, but that was before she coded.” Steve shivered slightly.

“Little thing like that won’t stop her, Rogers,” Tony’s voice sounded sure.  Steve wasn’t sure if he really believed that or not, but he nodded, wanting to believe.

…

It was a few days later that the doctors gave the all clear for visitors. You hadn’t woken up, but the medical staff assured the team that you would soon. Bucky didn’t know if he believed them. He’d seen the blood, the wound. He couldn’t stop seeing them. He wouldn’t leave the room you were in. Steve hadn’t told him that your heart had stopped, let alone that it had stopped twice, and he wasn’t planning on it either. Bucky only left your side to go to the bathroom, and only then if either Sam or Natasha was with you.

Bucky held your hand. Sometimes he would rub his thumb over the back of your hand, sometimes he would hold your hand up to his cheek. Sometimes he would kiss your knuckles. But he wouldn’t let go. Couldn’t.

He fell asleep like that, holding your hand to his cheek, with his head resting on your bed. HIs back would be killing him in the morning, but he hadn’t thought of that. HAdn;t intended to sleep at all.

When you woke, the lights were just a bit to bright, but when you tried to raise your hand to shield your eyes, you couldn’t move it. Squinting, you looked to your hand and noticed a few things. One, there was an ugly pink blanket that was certainly not yours over you. Two, there was an I.V. in the back of your hand. And three, Bucky was under that hand, his hand on your wrist.

Raising your head slightly, you looked around. Not my room. Looking out the window you knew you weren’t even in the tower. You went to adjust your legs and an involuntary groan slipped from your mouth before you could stop it. 

Bucky’s head shot up. He looked around the room, checking for danger, and it took him a moment before he looked to you.

“Hey,” you croaked. Your voice was harsh with disuse, but Bucky clearly didn’t care. His hands came to either side of your face and he cupped your cheeks. You had a strange feeling of deja vu. Then your mind rolled back to the last thing you remembered. Bucky, pleading for you to live. “I’m okay Bucky. I’m okay.”

Bucky let out gasping breath and leaned forward, resting his forehead on yours. He pressed a kiss to the space between your eyes and his hands slid to the back of your head.

“Don’t you ever do that again.” His voice sounded gravely, like he was having a hard time talking. 

“I’ll do my best,” you promised, relaxing into the back of the bed, letting Bucky lean into you. “Promise not to be mad if I fail?”

Bucky pulled back then. His eyes stared straight into yours.His right hand came to the side of your face again before he leaned back towards you, but this time, he didn’t press his forehead to yours. This time he pressed his lips to yours. It was a brief, chaste kiss, but it was a kiss nonetheless. You blinked at him as he pulled back. When he started to look worried, you smiled at him and raised your hand to grasp his right wrist, squeezing gently. He returned your smile before pressing a longer kiss to your lips.

When he pulled back again he said, “I could never be angry at you, doll.”

----------------------------------

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[calwh7]

Sleep Walking - Chapter 1

Hey I’m back but with voltage, think I’ve moved on. This is something I’ve wanted to write for a while now so I thought why not?. Thanks to my friend tho who have encouraged me to write this especially @gamerneko-girl thank you 💕 also the gang mentioned in this is from my fave game sleeping dogs.

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Description: Yumeka, the daughter of Soryu Oh and MC lives with her mother in Hong Kong, oblivious to the fact that her father is the boss of the Ice Dragons, one of the Sun on Yee’s sworn enemies. Yumeka is also a mobster behind her mothers back, she is a high up member of the Sun on Yee. Now plagued by her mothers capture, she must fight for her mothers freedom by single handedly bringing down Soryu Oh, but with secrets uncovered left and right, will Yumeka make the right decision? Will she ever get her mother back?

Pairing: well it’s kinda Soryu x MC but it’s their kid. Who will also get a girlfriend.

Warning: this story contains scenes of violence, abuse, torture and very bad laungage throughout all chapters. There’s a scene in this chapter that’s kinda gruesome, it’s in between the * . You can skip it it’s not really story important.

Notes: a triad is basically a Cantonese mobster who belongs to one of a few specific gangs, Soryu is NOT a triad though. Yumeka is not a good person like her father. Also Sor doesn’t know he has a kid, he think that MC left him 19 years ago. Also Ryusei doesn’t exist in this. Enjoy!

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The rumble of the engine smoothed out as I parked my bike in a secluded alcove next to my apartment building, hidden enough so that no one would steal it through the night. I sighed as I began the journey up the stairs of the building, passing neon lights of suggestive words that flashed through the windows. I finally reached number 57 on the fifth floor, but hesitated before entering. I could hear shouting from inside, a mans fluent Cantonese shouting at a woman's timid, broken one that still had a strong Japanese accent. I think I'm really lucky I can speak both languages. That mans voice belongs to my mothers 'boyfriend',  Li Wei Shang, who is actually a customer of my gang, the Sun on Yee, although not a loyal one. He would never dare lay a hand on my mother, he knew the consequences, but he'll happily throw me about a bit, because if I hit back I know the consequences . I couldn't get rid of him, not with the ever present promise that a much younger Yumeka had made to her mother. That was to never hurt him and always show respect, because apparently he has given us a lot and we should be thankful. Bullshit, if only mum knew what he really is, but then again I would also be exposed for who I really am as well, and the one promise that my mother made me swear by was that I was to not ever enter mafia culture. That lasted until I was about thirteen.

I opened the door, dreading what was to come. I heard heavy footsteps hurrying closer to me, and when I turned round from closing the door I came face to face with Li.

"No, don't hurt her please! Get out of here Yumeka!" Her shouts were cut short when Li's fist hit my face, leaving a small trail of blood from my nose.

"Get the fuck away from me!" I kicked him in his stomach hard causing him to cripple over.

"This little shit stole my money, MC! I need it back" He was holding his stomach whilst pointing an accusing finger at me.

"Here it is, I didn't steal it, just borrowed it" I calmly placed 50 dollars onto the coffee table and paced along to the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I could hear the shouting continuing but it had reduced to a more shouty conversation, if you could call it that.

I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror, hands gripping the sink. Sighing, I took off my Adidas jacket to inspect a wound that was left there from this afternoon by a rather jagged hunting knife. It wasn't a deep cut but it was still bleeding and in need of stitches, I'm just mad the boy who cut me managed to cut into a tiny piece of my dragon tattoo that goes up my left arm. That shit was kinda expensive. Taking the medical kit I keep in a bathroom drawer, I began sewing close the wound with a medical needle and thread, then wrapped a bandage around it so it doesn't get caught. Halfway through my bandage work my phone rang, still in the pocket of my jacket.

"What do you want Sami?" Sami Cho is the nickname for my best friend in the Sun on Yee.

"Yumeka, I don't give a shit no more and everyone agrees with me, Li is three months behind his payment and he ratted us out to the cops this morning and that's why there was a drug bust down at the docks wear house, he know shit he ain't supposed to know. We gotta kill him, I don't care about your little promise to your Momma, just go tell her the truth, no point in lying. But we'll get him tonight, I'm sure you'll be joining in as well?" Sami's tone was final as he half shouted his demand down my phone. I don't think I could argue with him, not now. Too many times I've saved Li’s ass.

"Well shit Sami, nice to speak to you too. Umm... fuck, you really going to do this? My mums gonna kill me, and you ain't seeing me for a couple days either 'cuz I really gotta lay low if I ever want a chance to speak to my mum again. I know your right, and sure as hell I'll be the one killing that son of a bitch. Just come here at three or something, and don't ring the doorbell like last time, idiot" I whispered harshly down the phone, getting my point across. I've been waiting for the right excuse to get rid Li for a long time. I just turned nineteen last month so I've been an adult for some time now and I think I can handle the aftermath of my mother. Lame excuse, I know, but at least it's something.

I came out of the bathroom with my jacket crumpled in my hand shoving it in a dirty washing pile in a basket by the bathroom door. I felt the heaviness of my switch blade, phone and wallet in my front jean pocket, giving me some comfort at least. My next stop was the kitchen where I made a nice hot cup of coffee, just like my mum taught me, only this time I slip in a little sedative that I keep hidden in my medical kit.

"Hey, sorry 'bout that Li, I'll pay you back double and it won't ever happen again" I approached him with a weary smile and gestured for him to take the coffee off me.

"You better be you little shit, don't think your mum would appreciate me telling her all about her little mafia kid" He sneered at me, quiet enough so mum wouldn't hear from the bedroom and snatched the cup out of my hand, gulping down most of the laced beverage.

"Only thing your mum and you are good at, making fucking coffee" He laughed a little as he drained the other half of the cup before slamming it down on the coffee table and announcing that he was going to bed.

"Goodnight" I smiled at his back as he retreated to his bedroom that he shared with my mother. Now I only need to wait an hour, take my mum to the hotel round the block, and the rest will just be a good night out with my mates.

An hour passed of me lying on the couch and I could hear the thunderous snoring coming from the bedroom, time to make my move. I opened the door quietly and snuck up to my mums side and shook her awake.

"Mum, come with me. I need to get you out of here. Pack a small bag, your going for a trip" I whispered.

"Yumeka sweetie, it's two in the morning, it can't be that important" My sweet mother smiled up at me from her bed.

"I'll explain when we get there, but I really need you to do this for me. I'm in a bad situation and I really need your help, but we have to get away from here. Please mum, I love you" I whispered back at her whilst grabbing onto her hand, hoping my little performance would be convincing enough.

"You're scaring me now Yumeka, what kind of trouble are you in? Please don't tell me it's gang stuff!" Her voice broke halfway through her worried Japanese, almost like she was ready to cry. Maybe I was playing into her emotions too much, no time for crying, at least not now.

"Mum" I warned her with a hard voice. "Please do as I say. It's for your safety, not any one else's" I glared and regretted it as soon as it left my mouth, but it got the job done, 'cuz now my mums hurrying about the place packing essentials for at least three nights. She picks up her bag with shaky hands and headed to the front door.

"What about Li?" Mum turned around, finally saying something for the past ten minutes.

"Fuck Li, mum, just stay close to me. Where I can see you" I ushered her out of the door keeping a firm grip on her elbow, switchblade out of my pocket and in my other hand.

"Yumeka I don't like where this is going, why do you have a knife?" I gave her a side glance.

"You really need to be quiet, I'll explain later" I hurried her down the stairs and out onto the cold street and just as we turned round the corner, Sami and two of my other friends where there to greet me.

"Yumeka, how you doing? Go deal with your Momma and come straight back, we ain't gonna be waiting for long you know" Sami greeted me with a smile, almost like he hadn't seen me just a few hours ago when we were running from some cops down at the docks.

"Just give me ten minutes" I nodded and left.

"Who were those people? I'm seriously worried right now and I need answers" Mum gripped my knife free hand with her other hand.

"You'll know when we get there".

It took us only three minutes but we arrived in a stingy, run down one bed Hotel room. Good enough for one night.

"You better start talking Yumeka, I'm really freaking out over here. You're never like this" Mum sat at the end of the bed, holding the frame for some support.

“You’re really going to hate this mum, but I’m...sorta in...um. I’m a triad. And I’m in the Sun on Yee” After my little confession, I looked around the room awkwardly before sitting on a slightly dirty arm chair where I lit a cigarette.

“You’re what?! How could you do this to me! And for how long” Her last question was barely audible. Her face contorted as sobs racked her body. If I hadn’t been so eager to leave my mum and go kill Li, maybe then my heart would’ve broke a little.

“I was thirteen. I just started out as a drug runner, then my... talents got me promoted, you could say. Now I’m just like any other guy in the gang but I got special privileges so I can keep it a secret from you, since my boss wanted me to stay, ‘cuz apparently I’m a real good find talent wise” I shrugged my shoulders and took a long drag of my cigarette.

“So those dangerous looking guys back there, they’re your friends? And those tattoos, I should’ve known they’re gang related” Mum raised a shaky hand to wipe at her over spilling eyes.

“Yea, Sami is my best friend actually. Look I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve got a job to do. I’ll be back in an hour, please don’t leave the room. Here’s some money for room service” I dropped 20 dollars onto the end of the bed near mums lap.

“You can’t just leave me here Yumeka, I can’t let you do that. You’re going to hurt Li aren’t you?! Yumeka please-”Her cries were cut short when I slammed the door on her, taking the only key card with me. It pained me, but it had to be done. I walked down the hallway of the hotel and I could still hear my mums crying and shouting.

“Don’t you dare fucking let her out” I snapped to a passing maid who cowered back in fear. If I had known how wrong I was, I would have never left my mothers side, but nether the less I walked to the elevators humming a giddy tune, excited for the job of taking down Li.

* * *

“Look who finally showed the fuck up!” Sami shouted in my direction as I headed round the back of the sky scraper apartment building.

“Look I got a little caught up, you know how my mum is” I laughed as he punched my arm. I looked down a few feet away from him, a battered and wheezing Li Wei Shang at the other guys feet staring up at me.

“Yu-Yumeka” He coughed up a wad of blood onto the pavement.

“Don’t fucking talk to me Li. You knew this day was coming” I spat at him and gave him a swift kick to his stomach, earning a scream and from what I could hear, a broken rib.

“You better start talking. Why’d you tell Li?! Why were there cops waiting for us at our hideout this afternoon. Why were there Ice Dragons too?!” I shouted in his face and took my switchblade, slashing his shoulder as an ear piercing scream flew out his mouth.

“Oh shut the fuck up” I stood over him and grabbed his sweaty blood stained face.

“I-I told them! To get extra money! T-they said I would have protection” Li whimpered.

“Protection? You already pay us protection money. Well, you’ve been lacking on those payments for three months now. I’ve been lenient Li, you gave me and my mother shelter and food, so I got you outta a lot of trouble. But not this time, little bitch” Taking my blade, I held it close to his throat, watching him start to really panic. I wasted no time and quickly slashed his throat, leaving him to bleed out.

“Come on guys, I got places to be”.

* * *

“Mum, you okay in there?” I softly knocked on the hotel door. No answer.

“Look. I know you hate me right now but I’m coming in. I’m really sorry mum” I mumble just loud enough so that she could hear. I scan the key card and step inside.

“Oh fuck, no no no no, fuck!” I smashed my closed fist against the wall leaving a bloody hole. Funny enough, that was probably the least worse of the damage. There were chairs overturned, a broken window and TV, glass every where. There was a sizeable patch of fresh blood on the pillow of the bed, that means her kidnappers couldn’t have gotten far. But before I could do anything about it, I was brought to my knees by fear, letting a few silent tears roll down my face.

I took a deep breath, collected myself and stood upright again. That little moment won’t happen again, I will find my mum.

“She sure as fuck ain’t dead” I whispered to comfort myself, but I did not expect a chilly voice and the sting of a needle at the side of my neck to be one that answered.

“That’s what they all say. Night night”

And then I was dreaming.

[diinofayce]

Like A Whisper In The Night - 20

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC (Layne Hardin) | Word Count: 5k | Warnings: LANGUAGE, lots of language, angst...lots of angst | A/N: Here it is, the final chapter. There will be an epilogue, maybe, probably, I tend to feel guilty still about leaving people angsty. Maybe I’ll grow out of it. | PREVIOUS CHAPTER

“Bucky, you have to calm down,” Steve caught Bucky’s vibranium arm at the elbow as he turned and threw a fist at Stark.

“Let go of me, Steve,” Bucky growled turning and wrenching his arm out of his friend’s grasp. Bucky reached up and tore the damn mask from his face as he glared at Tony who was looking at the man with a mixture of fear and confusion.

“Bucky! He didn’t know! You would have done the same thing,” Steve argued and Bucky huffed, tangling his fingers in his hair and pulling - it was so much easier when it was longer. He knew Steve was right, of course Steve was right, but it didn’t stop him from being frustrated that Tony just repulsor blasted his girlfriend who was taking over the body of a crazed anarchist. It didn’t stop the fear that Layne, who was normally forced back into her body when the host was killed, was still out cold and being loaded into the back of an ambulance.

“Barnes, I had no idea she was in that maniac!” Tony yelled, his arm wrapped tight around Pepper’s shoulders.

Bucky raised his hands above his head in surrender, he knows, it’s fine, he’s just mad. He reached out and grabbed the edge of one of the dining tables before throwing it across the room with an angry howl. Steve reached out, mouth opening to say something to his friend, before he closed his outstretched hand into a fist and closed his mouth thinking better of trying to calm him down right now. Instead Steve turned to Natasha.

“I need you to chase down Ava List, I think Hardin injected List with whatever was in this syringe hiding in her glove. Tony, take Pepper home and bring this syringe to Bruce. See if he either knows what Layne was working on or if he can figure out what was in it.” Steve commanded, his Captain voice leaving no room for question. Natasha pursed her lips and nodded, casting a concerned look over to Bucky before turning and leaving the ballroom. Tony took the syringe and wrapped his hand gently around Pepper’s elbow, steering the woman out behind Natasha.

Steve sighed and waved off the staring and whispering uniformed officers who were watching The Winter Soldier have a break down.

“Bucky, Buck. You have to calm down,” Steve said softly, stepping forward to his best friend, to the man he’s known since he was in grade school. Bucky turned to him, gelled hair sticking out at odd angles from where he had pulled it out of place.

“What do we do Steve? What do I do? I felt her and then I didn’t and she’s not awake and she’s not responsive. What do I do?” Bucky rambled, panic wrapping around his chest. He couldn’t believe he was going through this again, he had just gotten her back, just finally started to kiss her and call her his. He groaned and carded his fingers through his hair again when he thought of what wall Susanna was going to throw him through when they got back. Layne was so damn impulsive, all she had to do was stand on that damn stage play eyes and ears, going near List wasn’t part of her mission.

“We have to call him in,” Steve said begrudgingly, wincing as he looked at Bucky.

Bucky stopped cold in his pacing and turned to glare down Steve. “We can’t. If she wakes up and finds out she’ll hate us.”

Steve sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and nodded, his hands on his hips. “Yeah. Yeah, I know Buck. But what other option do we have? She’s flickering back and forth like a shadow, he’s the only one that will know what to do.”

Bucky swore angrily and threw a chair, breaking and throwing things were the only things keeping him from going completely insane. Steve flinched and sighed deeply, waiting for Bucky to regain control.

“We promised that if it ever came up that I’d break it to her. This is going to break any trust she put in us,” Bucky argued weakly.

“If we don’t do this she might die, Buck,” Steve pressed softly.

Bucky placed his hands on his hips and squeezed his eyes shut as he took a deep breath through his nose. “I’ll make the call.”

~*~

The steady and irritating beeping of a heart monitor was the first thing Layne came to register as she slowly slipped back into consciousness. The next thing to start coming back was the heavy feeling of her arms and legs and the bright orange glow on the other side of her eye lids. She squinted her eyes shut tighter and groaned softly, the scratching of her throat sharp and dry. Layne raised her right hand to her face, the weight and pull from the IV in the back of her hand tugging as she moved. Layne heard a door open off to her right but refused to open her eyes, her hand covering them and blocking her from the outside world.

“Agent Hardin?” Doctor Cho’s voice was soft and Layne could hear her messing with the dials on the machines she was attached to. “Take it slow, Layne, it took a lot to get you back.”

“How long have I been out?” Layne rasped.

“Three days.”

Layne felt Helen’s soft hand brush the hand she had over her face and let the doctor peel it away. With a soft groan and a lot of effort Layne slowly opened her eyes, taking in the medical wing of the tower - the part that wasn’t still under construction. She turned her head to the side and eyed up the pitcher of ice water, Helen graciously poured her a glass and helped Layne drink. The cold water soothes her dry and scratched throat, they must have had to put her on a respirator. Her brows knit as she tries to remember back to the gala, shoving herself out of the anarchist’s head and not being able to find her own.

“How did I make it back?” Layne asked. She remembered wrapping her energy around Bucky in her panic, trying to find something to hold onto. But she could feel herself weakening and fading, she projected her regret not thinking that her actions would go as horribly south as they appeared to have.

Helen paused and smiled softly, helping Layne sit up and readjusting her pillows. “If you’re up for visitors, I feel like they’re better off explaining it to you,” she answered vaguely and Layne nodded.

Helen walked out of Layne’s room and within seconds both Bucky and Steve were rushing in. “Hey boys,” she said, her voice still hoarse and weak.

Steve looked at her with excitement, but Bucky’s face went through a variety of emotions; happiness, anger, concern, and guilt being the main ones that Layne was able to pick up on. But relief won out and Bucky made it across the room to Layne’s bedside in two long strides, at her bedside he hesitated for a second and Layne licked her lips before he bent down to capture her lips with his. Layne hummed in content against him before they parted, Bucky’s ice blue eyes raked over her face.

“You need to stop scaring me,” Bucky whispered, his voice cracking.

Layne cocked her head slightly, a small smirk on her face. “Nothing scares you.” Layne reached out and threaded her fingers with his.

“You scare me,” Bucky replied, the brute honesty behind his words rocking her.

“Layne,” Steve spoke up, clearing his throat and stepping forward, resting his hands on the foot of her bed. “There’s something we need to tell you.”

A soft knock on the door frame had all three turning their heads. Daniel Hardin leaned against the door frame, his brown curls clean and soft, his brown eyes warm and caring, and a small smile on his face. He looked healthy and much less dead than the last time Layne had seen him.

“Hey, Sunflower,” he said softly, looking from his baby sister down to his black Converses, waiting for the blow up.

“What the fuck,” Layne swore as she tried to get out of her hospital bed.

~*~ Two Days Ago ~*~

“He should be here by now!” Bucky yelled at Steve as he paced back and forth at the foot of Layne’s bed where she laid with a respirator tube down her throat. He chewed on the nails of his right hand as he looked at his girlfriend, looking battered and broken.

“Fury had to get a hold of this Xavier guy and then Xavier had to get a hold of Hardin. Coulson said he’s running a ghost mission for them, needed a break from SHIELD and Hydra and Fury thought it would minimize the risk of Layne running into him accidentally,” Steve rationalized.

Bucky nodded, scrubbing his hand across his face. He rounded the bed and sat down on the edge, cradling Layne’s hand in both of his on his lap, running his vibranium fingers up and down her forearm. Bucky didn’t like having to bring Daniel Hardin back in after they all lied to Layne’s face. He watched her struggle with the thoughts that she had killed her big brother and it had killed Bucky to keep his mouth shut. Bucky had fought with Daniel and Fury on the decision, but at the end of the day all Daniel was sent on were ghost missions and it made his job so much easier if he just didn’t exist and that was something Bucky understood all too well. But Bucky knew Layne was going to hate Bucky for not telling her, that it might be the nail in the coffin for her and her brother’s relationship, that it might be the thing that actually pushes her out of the tower and away from all of them. Steve walked over and rested a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly.

“She’ll be alright, Buck. Helen has the whole team on this and Bruce is running tests on that syringe.”

“All we’re doing is keeping her body alive, Steve. She’s not in there, I felt her fade away from me,” Bucky growled softly, trying to fight the tears that were pricking at the corners of his eyes.

“The problem isn’t her fading away from you, it was she faded into you,” came a familiar voice. Daniel Hardin sauntered into the room, rolling the sleeves of his black button up shirt to his elbows. His brown eyes were sharp and accusatory as he looked at the two super soldiers.

“Excuse me?” Bucky asked venomously, standing up to his full hulking 6’2” size and puffing his chest out.

Daniel scoffed and rolled his eyes at the power display. “Real it in macho man. What I don’t understand is how I set her up with a powerhouse enhancer, I open her mind to the rest of her mutation and powers, and instead of training her to use them you send her off on a totally unnecessary mission,” Daniel barked. Bucky noticed how his cheeks flushed and his voice shook in the same way Layne’s did when she was upset.

Bucky clenched his jaw and looked back down at Layne, hating the tube coming out of her mouth, hating how small she looked. Every so often a cloud would pass over the sun in her room and she would become almost translucent, the parts of her in the deeper shadows becoming almost invisible.

Steve stepped between the two men and raised his hands. “We had to go after List, what would you have had us do?” Steve asked, trying to play the diplomat.

Daniel looked at Steve with irritation and made a soft scoffing noise as if the answer was obvious. “I told you the moment you wanted List I could hand her to you on a platter. I had her eating out of the palm of my hand and instead you send the most reckless, arrogant, and hot headed person I know who has had almost no training into a situation where she would be out for blood? I figured two highly trained soldiers would be better strategists than that, especially one that’s taking the time to fuck her. Or is that all she is to you, Soldat? A good fuck?”

Bucky saw red and immediately whirled to shove Steve aside, but the man held firm like a brick wall. Bucky wanted to tear this kid apart limb by limb at this point, but Steve’s hands on his shoulders held him back. Instead Bucky threw a plethora of profanities at the dark haired man in front of him. Daniel just looked at Bucky with a shit eating smirk on his face, hands in the pockets of his jeans. Bucky felt a heat in his chest, an extra batch of anger that wasn’t his and Daniel squinted at him.

“Ah, there she is,” he murmured and Bucky froze, what was he talking about?

Steve looked at his friend and frowned. “Buck, your eyes are brown,” he said in confusion. Bucky’s eyes normally a crystal blue color burned with amber flame.

Daniel pushed past Steve and reached up to place his palm flat on Bucky’s forehead. Despite Bucky’s chest heaving in rage and being easily a head taller, Daniel wasn’t even breaking a nervous sweat being next to the super soldier who was literally shaking with so much rage.

“Hey, Sunflower,” Daniel whispered as his own chocolate brown eyes shifted to molten amber and his fingers tightened on Bucky’s head. “You gotta go home.”

Bucky growled and reached up to wrap his vibranium hand around Daniel’s wrist. Daniel didn’t even flinch at the bone crushing grasp, he merely dug his nails into Bucky’s forehead and shoved the man’s head back. A rippling energy force pushed from Daniel’s hand and through Bucky’s body. Bucky felt something tear and separate from his mind and leave his body, something he didn’t even realize had been holding onto him. Daniel’s eyes followed the movement of something, removing his hand from Bucky and reaching out to guide whatever he was watching towards Layne’s body. Daniel placed his other hand on his sister’s forehead and coaxed an invisible something towards her, his other hand joining the first. Steve and Bucky watched as Daniel’s palms glowed orange, lighting up Layne’s face, before he finally released a breath he had been holding and let go of his sister.

“She’s back. Take the tubes out, she’ll wake up when she’s ready,” Daniel said curtly, unrolling his shirt sleeves and buttoning his cuffs.

“When will that be?” Steve asked, watching Bucky warily. Bucky just rubbed a hand over his chest, feeling like he suddenly had a gaping hole in his heart.

Daniel shrugged and walked passed them. “When she’s ready,” he repeated and left the two super soldiers standing there.

~*~ Present Time ~*~

“Layne! Layne! We need you to calm down and lay back. You’ve ripped your damn IV out!” Bucky reached forward and put his hands on her shoulders, trying to push her back down while Steve reached forward to grab her hand and try to apply pressure to stop the bleeding.

“Fuck you! Fuck the three of you! What in the ever loving fuck?!” Layne screamed, spit flying, her throat raw as she glared angrily at the three men in front of her.

Daniel stepped forward, his right hand raised he pointed his first and middle finger at her and lowered them slowly. Layne felt herself calm instantly, it was like he turned the volume knob down on her emotions. She let out a deep breath and slumped against her pillows. Bucky and Steve both looked at him with wide eyes and he merely shrugged.

“How? Why are you here? Where did you go?” Layne asked, now that her anger had been taken from her the pain and tears had room to bubble up. They fell heavy and fat down her cheeks and when Bucky reached up to wipe them she flinched away from him. Bucky jerked back and stepped away from her with pain in his eyes.

Daniel flinched slightly before looking at the super soldiers. “Can we have a minute?” he asked, for the first time sounding cautious and polite when addressing them.

Bucky was about to refuse until Steve grabbed his friend’s arm. “Yeah, we can do that. Come on, Buck, we’ll wait outside.”

Bucky hesitated, looking back at Layne who just looked at him with pain and betrayal as tears fell down her face. “I’m sorry,” Bucky whispered to her which just caused anger to flare up in her eyes again before he followed Steve outside.

Daniel closed the door behind the boys and moved to sit on the side of Layne’s bed. “How are you feeling?” he asked her, reaching out slowly and placing a hand under her chin, raising her face so he could examine her eyes.

Layne felt her chin tremble under his touch, but bit back the sob that wanted to tear through her chest. “Confused.”

“Yeah, I don’t blame you.” Daniel said, folding his hands in his lap and sighing. “Charles Xavier found me in Madison, he runs a school for mutant youth but the mutant adults are apart of a task force kind of like the Avengers. They’re called the X-Men. We are not some construct of the Terrigen Mist, we always had our powers, they’re hereditary which makes us mutants.”

Layne blinked at her brother, reaching out with a shaking hand and taking his in hers trying to figure out if this was real. “So you went missing, you just up and disappeared to become apart of some super hero group.”

Daniel smiled wryly, regret in his eyes, as he ran his thumb over the back of his sister’s hand. “Yeah, well, you did the same thing. I knew you would, I told Charles about you and he went to your Director Fury. Charles has been trying to build a bridge between the Avengers Initiative and the X-Men for some time.”

Layne ripped her hand back. “So Tony didn’t find me because of my work at the University?” Layne asked in disbelief, the feeling of betrayal roaring up into her chest again. “And you, what, became some underground sleeper agent working for Hydra who decided it was totally a good idea to kidnap me and torture me and have me…fuck, Daniel, I killed people!” The heart monitor Layne was attached to sped up as her heart rate increased with an incoming panic attack. “I killed you, I’ve had nightmares for weeks. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, and that’s all your fucking fault.”

Danny stood up and shushed Layne, trying to calm her but she just wrenched away from him and sent him stumbling back with a flare of energy. “I don’t trust you. Get the fuck away from me.”

Danny sighed and stepped towards her again. “Sunflower,” he tried but Layne cut him off.

“No! You don’t get to call me that, get out. Don’t come back. Go back to your deep underground shadow bullshit and stay out of my life.”

Daniel looked over his little sister, her brown curls wild and her eyes fierce an angry flush brightening the freckles on her cheeks. He huffed a breath of air harshly through his nose and licked his lips. “You didn’t kill anyone,” Danny said finally. He picked a file up that had been sitting waiting on the end table and dropped it in her lap. His gaze roamed up to the enhancer on the side of her head, the tiny red scars that creeped out from the little metal box that mirrored his own.

“I know this was all less than ideal and I’m sorry, in a lot of ways my hands were tied. I picked my mission over keeping you out of it, but I did what I could to keep you safe. I will always be there to keep you safe.” Daniel gave his sister a once over once more before turning on his heels and strutting out of the room. She would find him when she was ready.

Layne pressed her hand hard to her mouth to muffle the sobs that ripped from her chest. With a shaking hand she opened the folder and flipped through the pages, picture after picture of the girls that thought she had killed staring up at her. Detailed accounts written in Daniel’s scrawling scratch on how he would ‘short circuit’ Layne when she was too far into a girl’s subconscious, how he’d implant the memories he needed her to have while he put the girls to sleep and sent them away to safety in secrecy. He mentioned a Logan Howlett and a Jean Grey that would pick the girls up and take care of them and either take them to the X-Men safe house or send them home with a back up group.

She was so focused on the files in front of her that she failed to notice Bucky leaning on the doorway, arms folded across his broad chest as he watched her flip page after page, tears falling down her face. He knocked on the door frame softly and Layne looked up, startled, and wiped away her tears with the back of her hand sniffling sharply.

“Hey, doll, I…uh…saw your brother leave,” Bucky said softly, looking down at the floor awkwardly not sure whether he would want him to stay or kick him out.

Layne hiccuped softly and closed the folder. “Did you know?” was all Layne asked, looking up at her boyfriend. She prayed for the first time in over a decade, she hoped with every cell in her body that he didn’t, that he was as shocked as she was.

When Bucky visibly winced her heart plummeted. She scoffed and reached for her glass of water. “Did you find List’s body?” she asked hoping for at least one shred of good news.

Bucky looked up at her sharply, narrowing his eyes. “How did you know we’d find her dead?” Bucky asked accusingly and Layne gave a small smile of relief.

She nodded, pleased, and started carefully taking out her IV lines and pulling the monitors off her chest. Bucky stepped forward and reached out to her but she shrunk from him and Bucky pulled his hands back like she had burned him. Layne swung her legs off the side of the bed and stood shakily, the thin hospital gown brushing just above her knees. Helen Cho burst into the doorway at the sound of the monitors all going flat, but Bucky raised a hand and signaled for her to step back out. Helen glared at Bucky, but left the room.

Layne turned and looked at the man in front of her. She loved him, everything in her heart ached for him, but she wasn’t sure she could over look what he had kept from her. “Did you know that I didn’t murder all those girls? Did you always know he was undercover?” Layne asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

Bucky shook his head. “I didn’t know any details. When he his heart starting failing Fury made the call. Same trick he used to escape me…you know…before. I wanted to tell you, but Fury made the call.” Bucky explained, sounding desperate.

Layne nodded, chewing on her bottom lip and looked over Bucky with a scrutinizing eye. “I injected her with a reverse of the super soldier serum. Instead of enhancing her abilities and her health it destroyed it. Basically a super advanced and fast acting cancer. That’s essentially what they gave you boys, by the way, cancer. Tell Bruce to follow the cookie trail and flip it in what’s left and he’ll be able to replicate Howard’s original formula. I can’t fight, I can’t shoot a gun, and I guess I’m gullible enough to think you liked me and weren’t just trying to distract me from the truth - that the good little soldier would do anything except fall in line, but at least I managed to do what Tony brought me on to do originally.” The venom that dripped from her voice was bitter and acidic and it cut Bucky to the core.

He swallowed hard, his adam’s apple bobbing, and tears welled in his blue eyes. “Layne, please,” Bucky begged, his voice breaking. “It’s not like that. I love you.”

Layne shook her head, blinking as her own tears slipped down her cheeks. “What were you trying to achieve, James? Who were you trying to protect by keeping that from me? You forget, I know you. Were you afraid that once I learned he was alive and working for a different team I’d want to follow? Were you afraid I’d choose him over you?”

“Yes,” Bucky answered honestly, the confession coming out in a rush of pain that Layne could just about taste. Layne using his true name stabbing him the heart like a shard of ice, bringing him back to the first time she whispered his name tangled in her sheets and hating that the meaning behind it this time was such a polar opposite.

“If you love someone, James, you put your trust in them for better or worse. You put their needs ahead of yours and you trust that they’ll take your needs into account.”  Layne said with finality. She wiped the tears from her face once more before walking around the hospital bed to Bucky. She reached up and wiped the tears that had slipped down his cheeks as well.

“FRIDAY? Please deliver my resignation to Director Fury.”

“Right away, Agent Hardin,” FRIDAY responded automatically.

Bucky trapped Layne’s hand against his cheek. “Please, don’t,” he begged once more. Layne smiled sadly and reached up to kiss him softly on the lips.

“See you around, Soldier,” Layne whispered against his lips before slipping out of his arms and leaving him standing alone in the hospital room, the feel of her lips still tingling on his.

~*~ Two Days Later ~*~

Layne finished zipping up her duffel bag, everything in her room packed into a few bags sitting on the foot of her mattress. The posters and mirror frames stripped from the walls and stuffed in a trash bag, music equipment boxed neatly on the floor by the door. Susanna hefted a few bags into her arms, sending Layne a small reassuring smile before turning to head to the elevator with them. Layne looked up when she heard an “Excuse me, Cap,” from Susanna and smiled awkwardly at Steve in her doorway.

“How’s it coming, kid?” Steve asked stepping through the threshold and Layne sighed.

“I showed up here, almost six months ago, with this duffel bag and my guitar. No combat training, no idea what I was getting myself into, just hoping I could actually make a difference,” Layne said bitterly, Steve stuffed his hands in jeans pockets and scuffed his toe in the carpet. He smiled fondly at the bright orange Converse high tops on Layne’s feet.

“How are you leaving?” Steve pressed, looking her over. She wore a baggy men’s Avenged Sevenfold tour shirt from 2007, jean shorts poked out of the bottom hem and her purple beanie was covering her head, her hair plaited in a long braid on her right side.

“With a lot more baggage,” Layne answered, chuckling darkly. “How is he?”

Layne looked over at the man she hoped she could still call friend, he had dark bags under his blue eyes and he had a beard growing in. She could only imagine that he had been staying up late with Bucky and a pang of guilt rocked through her core, but she ignored it.

“Terrible,” Steve answered honestly and Layne tried to keep her features schooled. ���He really cares about you, Layne. We all had our orders.”

Layne nodded, fiddling with the zipper on her bag. “I know. I care about him too, I just need to be mad. I need some space to figure all this out and I can’t have that here.”

“Fury said you revoked your resignation,” Steve delved, looking at Layne imploringly. Layne scrubbed a hand over her face.

“Yeah. I’m going to go on the road with the girls for a few months. I check in with him every big move, if I’m in the area of something I said I’d check it out. If when this is done and I’m better and he’s better maybe I’ll come back on,” Layne explained brokenly. “Tony took my choice away with that press conference while I was out.”

Steve looked at Layne with his brows furrowed, confusion and indignation on his face. “You think that you can just walk back in after a couple months and it’ll all be fine?”

Layne smiled wryly and looked around at the bare walls of her room. “Not at all, Steve,” she answered, slinging her duffel bag over her shoulder and grabbing her guitar case a perfect mirror of when she first stepped into the tower. “Bucky was…unexpected. When you and Tony first debriefed me on him I was afraid of what you were asking me to do, I was afraid of him and myself and god. I was afraid of everything, Steve. And Bucky was exactly what I expected, he was harsh and demanding and abrasive…until he was protective and caring and devoted.”

Layne licked her lips and laughed to herself, shaking her head. “I spent my whole life being treated like a child who couldn’t be trusted. Whether it was over protection or for my own good or another plethora of excuses my parents could spout. I thought, when it came down to it, that I was finally apart of the team, but all of you decided to omit me and my feelings and my reactions. I refuse to be apart of another family that thinks that’s okay.”

Steve let Layne brush passed him, watching as she left her room behind, aware of his part in making her feel like running was her only option again. Steve stepped into the hallway behind her and frowned as she made her way towards the elevator. “He’s not going to get over you, you know.” Steve called after her.

Layne hit the down button and turned back to Steve, her cheeks wet with tears. “That’ll make two of us, Cap. Good thing he has you to help him.” And then she stepped into the waiting elevator and was gone.

EPILOGUE