#needs to get rid of the soldier class entirely

[deqdyke]

A revolution can not succeed without armed resistance, but neither is armed resistance the only necessary component of a revolution. Both these things can be true.

[nyc3]

@bibibbon I was reading your post and thinking when you mentioned Mummy, and certainly is sad and disappointing that out of Nine's crew he was the one to get the short stick in terms of screentime and interactions with his own leader.

Such a cool looking villain with an awesome power shouldn't be treated like fooder.

But eh... I guess they really need give Bakugo an easy victory to show how badass he can be compared to the other loosers from the class.

Anyway, before getting absorbed by my hater side I can share my ideas about rewrite Mummy, because like his friends is fun write about him and fill the empty space left by the author.

Starting for his backstory:

This idea isn't entirely mine, but I love the concept of Mummy and Edgeshot being related.

Interesting to think because they share same birthdays, both their quirks have the aesthetic of red tape, they have grey hair and the names "Kamihara" and "Makihara" sound strangely similar.

I've seen people write them as twins, but I like more the idea of them having a big age gap in case of being brothers which fits more with Shinya being in his 30s in canon.

And so both Hoyo and Shinya being brothers born in a very traditional japanese family would make room for some family drama, as is more than probably that Shinya being the first born and with a quirk like foldabody would probably be seen as the pride of the family.

While Hoyo is seen as lesser and never able to live up to the level of his older brother, especially after Shinya got accepted at UA and started pay less attention to Hoyo.

While during his early childhood Hoyo only support was Shinya when he left the family state to focus on his studies Hoyo was alone with a family that never supported him and constantly remembered him how inferior he was.

Hoyo will reach a break point when his parents tried to get rid of him when he was entering on his teenage years, and he discovered they sold him to a mysterious organization that was looking for young low tier soldiers (which for some reason still happens in MHA world and nobody seem to care about it).

Note: This organizagion will be no other than the MLA but isn't really important for the story for now.

And so, without anything to lose since Shinya was long gone at that point, Hoyo escaped the family state and never came back. He also invented the false surname Makihara, as he didn't want anything to do with his family.

That would be the beginning of some rough years living in the streets for Hoyo.

Without proper studies (since he only got the basics at home instead of going to an actual school) and technically being a fugitive of his own family, Hoyo only could resort of stealing and other minor crimes for try to survive being homeless.

I imagine he also tried to gain some money doing dirty jobs for other criminals, which might be why we see him beating thugs in the street during the flashbacks.

That being said, this empty life style wasn't something Hoyo was happy about.

He still feel the necessity of prove himself and try to became something better, he was angry at the world and his family, and he also missed Shinya despite he didn't want to admit and prove his brother his worth.

Despite Hoyo's quirk still seemed to be quite useless as he couldn't do much with his puppets and give up at some point.

That was until he meet Nine...

My idea of how they meet is that Hoyo was hired to expulse Nine from the territory of a criminal gang that didn't like a homeless man like him was wandering in there.

Expecting just another quick job for a bit of cash Hoyo used his quirk with and old scarf to create a puppet out a vending machine, with he would use to intimidate the white haired man described by the gang.

Worse case scenario would be him having to beat the man in case he resists but isn't like he cared.

What Hoyo didn't expect is that when he meet the white haired man this one would have an aura of calm around him and rather than look intimidated by him or his puppet, he only got a glaze of interest coming from him.

"That... looks like a very powerful ability you got there" Nine commented very calmly looking at Hoyo like if he already knew everything from him.

Hoyo was a bit confused by the statement (and internally a bit intimidated by the way the white haired man seem look through him) but he only wanted to finish the job quickly as he was hungry and needed the money the gang offered.

So he tried to attack the white haired man with his puppet, but in the blink on an eye a small lightning bolt hit the puppet and make it explode.

Hoyo was pushed back by the explosion and the white haired man was still there with an unfazed expression.

"Not that powerful yet but..." Nine said looking at Hoyo "I can make it stronger" He said like it was a promise.

Nine then walk away and Hoyo tried to follow him without understand anything of what was happen, until they were almost in front of the gang hideout.

Hoyo observed how the white haired man rising one of his hands at the sky, and he didn't realize how suddlenly the dark clouds covered what until some moments was a very clear night.

A lightning bolt came from the sky and impacted the buildings Hoyo knew the gang used to hide, making the ground vibrate as they explode illuminating the night with the fire and the white haired man was stading there with the same bored expression as he that act of destruction was nothing for him.

Hoyo was totally speechless by that demonstration of power.

"I assume they won't represent a problem for you from now, I understand they wanted you to get me out of here so you don't have to worry for not get the job done" the white haired man said with the same calm Hoyo was used at that point.

For some reason it reminded him to someone else...

"Huh... and what do you want from me?" Hoyo replied rising his eyebrown tried to show more confidence that he actually felt "This kind of "favors" can't be for free"

"From you? Nothing..." Nine said plain and simple "Maybe offer you something, but first we should get out of here, he police and heroes can be annoying and they probably were alerted by my little spectacle" He said before walking out of the scene.

Hoyo didn't know why but he started walking behind the white haired man. There wasn't much to lose anyway...

"Are you hungry? Personally I am, so maybe we can get some food" Nine said after notice the young boy was following him.

Hoyo agreed on that, he really could get something to eat.

...

After all that happened Nine started to explain to Hoyo what his ideals and dream to change the world, a dream he really wanted to share with Hoyo for some reason.

Even if he didn't believe he meet the standards of power the white haired man claim to have, but Nine keep insisting on the potential of his quirk and how Hoyo was stronger than he realize and how wrong society was for overlook his true potential.

Not much time later Hoyo meet a friend of Nine, a really intimidating mutant who called himself Chimera and that name was fitting considering he was a mix of countless animals.

Hoyo found the guy to be quite charismatic and funny regardless of his loon however, and he was also very compromised to follow Nine's vision for the ideal world he evisioned.

And one day Nine also surprised Hoyo with a gift: a lot of red bandages that he notice were more resistant and powerful than anything he previously used to activate his quirk.

"Your power is greater than you think Hoyo, don't believe what the weakelings tried to make you think all your life. You can be better than them, you can fight for the world we deserve" Nine said in the most genuine way Hoyo ever heaf from someone.

And Hoyo really felt weak but also strong for equal reasons that moment, as never during his whole life he felt supported the way Nine made him to feel. Not his own blood family, not even Shinya, but this man who only wanted to give him and Chimera a better world to live.

Hoyo knew that moment that his life and heart belong to Nine and his cause forever, he give him a real family and home without even expect anything from Hoyo other than fight together like a team.

It motivated Hoyo to push himself and his quirk over the boundaries, training endlessly with the help of Nine and Chimera, so what once was the ability of control a single puppet quickly became the power of create armies of puppet soldiers thanks to the gift Nine give to him.

He even discovered an inhate talent with the sword, a gift courtesy of Chimera by the way.

Hoyo was poweful indeed, just like his friends believed.

But he also wanted a new identity as well, as his born name no longer felt something that represented who he was.

Then Hoyo became Mummy, and he used the bandages gifted by his leader to cover his body.

He felt safe and powerful like that.

Mummy finally meet himself that moment and knew who he really was.

...

P.S:

-Despite I make Shinya look like a careless and selfish brother in the backstory, I actually think later when he found what his parents did to Hoyo he resents them and felt totally guilty for not being there for his little brother. Edgeshot look for Hoyo during years hoping to find him someday and be a family again, he also keep his parents out of his life after what they did to Hoyo.

-I don't mention Slice here because I think she was the last one to join the team some time later than Mummy.

-While their age difference isn't actually that big, I like the idea of Mummy considering Nine a big brother figure and somehow filling the empty space left by Shinya.

[darthvashtique93]

Return of the Hawk

Chapter 27

Carter whistled a merry tune as he walked up the steps to his apartment. He had groceries in one hand and his keys in the other. He was excited. Tomorrow, the museum was receiving a sarcophagus, and he couldn't wait to get his hands on it. He placed his grocery bags on the counter after entering his house. It was 10 p.m., but he needed to be at work by 5 a.m. Is it too late for vodka? He turned to his living room but released an embarrassingly high shriek when he realized he was not alone in his apartment. "How long have you been there?" Carter asked as he regained his composure.

"Long enough," Batman said stepping out of the shadows. "Where are your wings?"

"My wings aren't organic."

"Meaning?"

"They aren't connected to my back. They're faux wings. I can take them on and off whenever I want. My father was responsible for manufacturing faux wings on Thanagar."

"You can make wings?"

"As long as I have enough Nth metal, which I do – I took a handful with me when I defected - I can make as many faux wings as I want."

"We can talk about the later, for now I want you to gear up. I'll meet you on the roof."

"Okay," Carter replied uneasily, still wondering how Batman sneaked his way into the apartment. "I need a better alarm system."

A minute later, Carter stood on the roof of his apartment building dressed as Hawkman. He was expecting it to be just him and Batman. Turns out, the Bat wasn't alone. "Superman!" Hawkman almost screamed. "Wonder Woman," he gasped.

"This isn't a social visit," Batman said.

"We would like to temporarily invite you to join the Justice League," Superman said.

"Is this because of the hunt for Hawkgirl?" Hawkman asked.

"How do you know about that?" Wonder Woman asked.

"He's the one who alerted me to Lobo's presence on this planet," Batman said.

"Lobo has been taken care of," Superman said.

"Space Dolphins?" Hawkman guessed.

"Yes. But how do you know about the Space Dolphins?"

"It's a well-known fact in the universe that Lobo has a twisted fascination with Space Dolphins. It's borderline predatory," Hawkman shuddered at the thought.

"What we want to know is how the Thanagarians will respond knowing that we have rid them of their prized bounty hunter. Also, we have one their agents in our custody," Batman spoke.

"Can we expect more bounty hunters?" Superman asked.

"I don't think so," Hawkman said. "Thanagarians are a proud race. We like to come across as perfect, never making a mistake. They wouldn't want help from the rest of the universe. They'd keep it in house."

"What about the Gordanians?" Wonder Woman asked.

"Working together with Thanagarians?" Hawkman asked in disbelief. "Yeah right. The only way these two races would ever work together is if Thanagar had something to trade. As to the agent in your custody, they're gonna kill her."

"Why?" Wonder Woman questioned. "Because she captured?"

"Yeah," Hawkman shrugged his shoulder, "Failure is not tolerated on Thanagar. We are a military planet. Why do you think they're coming so hard after Hawkgirl? She betrayed the entire planet. But why are you asking me this?" Hawkman asked. "Lieutenant Hol would know more than me. I was just a lowly officer. She's the one who was in the same room with higher-ups. Soldiers on my level never know what's going on. We do what we're told; no questions asked."

"What can you tell us about Shayera's family?" Batman asked.

"Not much. General Talov is a psychopath; and his wife, General Che-yara, is a sociopath. Her younger sister Issi is a mixture of both making her a nightmare to deal with."

"So, Shay – Lieutenant Hol – which one is she?" Wonder Woman asked.

"Neither," Hawkman answered. "She was…is…an anomaly."

"Explain," Wonder Woman demanded.

"We were in the same class. She probably wouldn't remember me," Carter added. "When we were around 14 our class was doing drills and obstacle courses. You know those courses your army or navy or marines run?" Superman and Wonder Woman nodded. "We were running those when we were 7. This one was ten times harder, and it was part of our graduation ceremony. Everyone was watching. Lieutenant Hol was out in front. She was killing it. She would have won, too. But, during the obstacle where we fly through rings while seasoned warriors shoot arrows at us, I got hit with an arrow. It went through my wing and pinned me to the wall. I was done."

"Didn't it hurt you?" Wonder Woman asked.

"My wings are not organic. Actually," he paused, "almost 80% of Thanagarians are born wingless. Anyway, everyone turned their bows towards me and fired. I closed my eyes, knowing I was about to die."

"Wait," Wonder Woman interrupted once again, "Students dying. Is that a regular occurrence?"

"Yes. At age 5, there were 350 students in my class. By age 14, we were down to 150. Going back to my story. I was pinned to the wall, arrows flying at me, but I didn't get hit. When I opened my eyes, Lieutenant Hol was in front of me. She had deflected all of the arrows. She then pulled the arrow out of my wing and helped me finish the course. I'll never forget the faces of the onlookers. The place was silent; everyone's mouths were open. They were speechless."

"Shocked because she rescued you?" Superman asked.

"Yes, but not pleasantly shocked. She had shown weakness by rescuing me. As the next in line to be ruler of Thanagar, that was not okay. Her father and mother were livid. Couldn't see their faces because of their masks, but their body language screamed murder. I was so scared for her, when her father walked up to her, she didn't look away. She returned his glare. I have never known anyone gutsy enough to do that; I have also never seen a being get slapped so hard."

"He punished her for saving you?" Wonder Woman asked, still not clear.

"He backhanded her so hard, half of her mask flew off her face. Those masks are made of the same material as my mace," he gestured down to the weapon at his side. "It echoed throughout the auditorium. She stumbled and landed on the ground, hard. Then, her father grabbed her by the wing, dragged her to a wall and pinned her there with a spear. She screamed. Her wings aren't faux like mine, they're organic. She had to dislodge the spear herself."

"Did she graduate?" Superman said, completely enraptured.

"Yes. But she stayed out of public eye until it was announced she was going to Earth. A week before she was sent here, I left. I disgraced my whole family when I was 14 by needing to be resuced. They completely ostracized me. I haven't seen, talked, or heard from since I left Thanagar. Earth was a welcome change." Superman and Wonder Woman silently absorbed what they had been told. "Batman," Superman turned to the Caped Crusader, "do you think – where is he?"

"How'd he do that?" Hawkman asked.

"When did he do that?" Wonder Woman wondered aloud.

"Why don't you come with us to the Watchtower," Superman offered. "We can talk more."

Chey-Ara paced her 10x10 cell. As far as jail cells went, this one was nice and different from the ones on Thanagar. This cell had a soft bed, a desk, and a desk lamp. Why she would ever need a desk while locked in a cell, she did not know. But who was she to complain? The ones on Thanagar were nightmares, standing room only. Her father had died in one. And…there's someone here. Chey-Ara whirled around to see the green man, the Martian Manhunter, standing just outside her cell. (The front wall of the cell was transparent. It wasn't made from glass or any other material she knew.) "You are back," Chey-Ara greeted, crossing her arms as a weird feeling grew in her stomach..

"I am," he said. He was munching on some small, round, brown thing. Her eyes widened in disbelief. "You like Chocos, too?" she inquired.

"I…yes…You are familiar with them Chocos."

"It is all I have eaten since coming to this planet," Chey-Ara admitted bashfully. "They are made from chocolate and have a vanilla crème filling. We do not have food like this at home."

"Would you like some?" J'ohnn held a pack out towards her.

Chey-Ara was about to accept the offer, but then she scowled. "Being nice to me to build rapport. It won't work," Chey-Ara turned to face the wall once again. "You come here every day and question me. Why?"

"To see what you know?"

"You have already looked inside my mind." she turned to face J'ohnn. J'ohnn shrugged, a habit he picked up from the humans of Earth. "You already scanned my body. I no longer have any trackers in or on my body. No one is coming for me."

"There are some things the brain can't tell me."

"Like what?" Chey-Ara scoffed.

"I know what you know about Thanagar's invasion, which isn't much."

"It was not an invasion," Chey-Ara said.

"What was it if not an invasion?"

"Liberation." Chey-Ara said.

"Liberation?" J'ohnn asked. "Please explain."

"The Gordanians were on their way to Earth. They would have made mankind their slaves."

"It seems the Thanagarians tried to make humans their slaves instead."

"We were going to teach the humans how to fight," Chey-Ara argued.

"The humans did just fine on their own. As you can see, neither Thanagarians nor Gordanians not control Earth."

Chey-Ara stormed to the clear wall, banging it once with her fist. The anger burned like fire in her eyes. "The only reason you ilíthioi won was because of that skýla. She showed weakness when she chose you over us!" J'ohnn's red eyes studied her. She quickly looked away. Chey-Ara hated to admit it, but this Martian's steady stare was unnerving, it did weird things to her stomach. She did not like it. "What?" she bit out in annoyance.

"Why did you think the Gordanians were about to invade Earth?" he asked.

"That's what I was told."

"Who told you that?" J'ohnn asked.

"The higher-ups," she replied. "They told us that the Gordanians were about to attack another planet. Earth. And if they conquered Earth, it would mean our annihilation. We needed to prepare Earth for an attack."

"You follow your leaders' orders, no questions asked?" J'ohnn asked, trying to understand the young, dark-skinned hawk.

"Yes," she answered confidently. "Our parents raised us to respect the leaders of Thanagar. They know best."

"Hmm," J'ohnn said thoughtfully. "You have given me much to think about," he replied after a moment. Chey-Ara raised an eyebrow. I have? "It is always a pleasure speaking to you, Chey-Ara," J'ohnn said as she walked away. Chey-Ara stared after him for a few moments before sitting on the bed. There was that weird feeling in her stomach again. She was going to puke.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13461097/1/Return-of-the-Hawk

[worrywrite]

Wait. Got it.

Book title: Ms.Stake's War Maid.

Subtitle: A comedy of errors.

Plot: a school teacher named Tanya Stake has her class do a fundraiser to support an underfunded branch of the military with letter and some downtime activities (kind of like how there are charities that send trading card packs and the like to soldiers irl) and a little money. Turns out the charity was not entirely clear on what I meant. Tanya Stake realizes she has inadvertently purchased a "War Maiden", a unit from a defunct branch of a space paramilitary special ops group. The unit is a cybernetic android, a human soldier that has been raised in the military and technologically augmented to better fulfill their role as a intergalactic mech pilot. Now defunct and retired forcibly from service after seemingly reaching an intergalactic peace treaty, unit 00P5 (Oops) must settle into a civilian life. Nicknamed Petra, because it was the first name Tanya could think of, the war maid is utterly incapable of handling life without a clear cause to fight for. Petra can hardly take care of herself, as her specialized needs from her augmentation were generally taken care of by her handler (which is also why it was so cheap to "purchase" her). Tanya figures out that Petra's classification as "military surplus" was an accident, but that actually "decommissioning" her is tantamount to murder.

Hijinks ensue. Petra takes a role as a janitor at Tanya's school, a task which she handles with military precision. The kids take a liking to her because she keeps accidentally breaking things and then having to spend most of her time fixing them. She gets accidentally roped into teaching an after school robotic repair class.

Tanya gets into a load of accidental trouble when she realizes the "charity" she was supporting was actually a rebel military faction that wants to disturb intergalactic peace and is carefully framing her as a patsy leader so they can disappear for a while and strike at a more opportune moment. They facilitated the disappearing of Petra as military surplus being sold off as part of an effort to rid themselves of the hassle of active war maidens assuming she would not survive or would be killed along with Tanya when they are discovered.

Tanya must care for Petra, uncover a plot of intergalactic terrorism, go undercover in the space government, and also teach advanced mathematics to 4th graders.

Ms. Stake's war maid.

[lunatriense]

I mean, at a certain point, how much is it worth arguing Oz is a bad character versus the writers are just….not good at their jobs? Or even a mix as Oz is a ploy device? He’s as smart or as incompetent as the plot needs him to be? Like with the cane nuke, I don’t think that was what it was, but the writers needed an out cause of the fucking Grimm whale. So cane nuke. Or something like that

Oh, the writers are absolutely shit, but the entirety of Oz's character comes from them; it's not like he's a separate, self-aware entity. The problem is that because of the way the writers have developed him, every season he gets more reprehensible.

He started off as just a sus incompetent headmaster which is fine. But then they had him intentionally send first year students on an incredibly dangerous and critical mission to Mountain Glenn, and refuse to secure the Vytal Festival despite knowing that Salem's agents were fucking around, and keep super important information from everyone which leaves them unable to respond to Salem, and pressure Pyrrha into doing the transfer with zero support or enough information to make an informed decision, and not fight to protect Beacon. Now he's a total bastard, too. Still fine, he's just a villain now, but cool, whatevs.

But then they make him immortal, which means all that stuff he sent people to do while he sat in his office suddenly becomes so much worse. And then they reveal he's been manipulating society for millennia, and was responsible for abolishing the militaries, which leaves everyone terribly vulnerable and entirely at his mercy to send hunters (either himself or through the other headmasters) to help. Except he also made hunters have no oversight so they can do whatever the fuck they want. Which, by the way, are all current or former child soldiers that usually get drawn into this no later than age 13.

And then we find out that he's been hiding relics that would be suuuuper useful in protecting the world, and used one of them to physically manifest Atlas' class divide instead of something helpful. And that he's on a mission from the bastards that already destroyed humanity once to bring them back under said bastards' sway, and they'll destroy everything again if they don't like the result. But he could prevent this by simply getting rid of at least one relic… except he doesn't, with no indication that it's impossible, so now he's intentionally holding a sword of Damocles over the world.

And then, we find out that the war he's been throwing a bunch of young people into a meat grinder for is pointless, because he has no plan to win, and he doesn't even tell them that so they think they're making sacrifices for the good of the world but really it's only for his chance at getting out of the deal he made with GoL. And that he didn't even tell the few people he has in his circle this, because heaven forbid someone else have an idea to actually win; no, more important for Oz to keep his secrets and maintain his influence.

And only then do we come to the cane nuke, which — by introducing it and having him use it on different power settings to save himself twice, and having it only hurt the people/things he wants to get— means that he knowingly and intentionally chose to not use it at Beacon or Haven, where he could have effortlessly stopped Salem's plan in its tracks and (in the case of Beacon) saved countless lives. Because it was more important to hoard his consumable item, except oh wait, when he needs to use it for himself he's all too happy to use it. Which, combined with respawning much quicker than usual and body snatching Oscar, suggests that he must've known he was going to come back fast — at least in time to continue his shadow war against Salem before she won — so it was okay to let himself die at Beacon because hey, nbd, he's the only one that matters and he'll come back, so fuck everyone else

Do I think that all these things are intentional on the writers' part? Or that they even realise the implications of them all? Hell fucking no, they're putting their clown shoes on in the middle of their show. But unlike other characters that have been fucked over by this kind of thing — Ironwood, Pyrrha, Penny, Adam, etc. — Oz has consistently been doing this shit that's both evil and boneheaded since episode 1, where he sees a girl with silver eyes and goes "y'know what, fuck her youth and being ready, fuck that I already got her mother killed and destroyed her family, I want anti-Grimm floodlights that I can direct at my will". And every. Single. Season. We get some new bullshit to add on that makes him that much worse.

So yeah

[americasmarauders]

in your eyes - Bucky Barnes

author’s note: so remember when I said I wouldn’t write Bucky anymore, only that one time? yeah, so I said, you know, like a liar. I saw the first episode of falcon and the winter soldier and that was all it took for me to fall into the ‘bucky barnes simp’ hole all over again. I made an entire one shot based on a single piece of a dialogue from the first episode. the story starts right before the first episode and ends right after the last. I spend an entire month and a half working on this please give it some love.(pls reblog i beg of you) Huge thanks to @batarella and @glorified-red for beta-ing this. ily <3 hwo knows, if people love it enough I might give a part 2. 

summary: her quiet job in the library got louder when Bucky walked into her life. (Bucky Barnes x telepath!librarian!reader)

WARNINGS: i do write a bit about addiction in this, if it makes you uncomfortable, please do not interact. it’s not heavy, or graphic, but the reader does experience abstinence. be warned.  no spoilers for tfatws, but i do reccomend you watching it. 

words: 11,416

mastelist

#

#

It was all so loud usually. When she first discovered her ability, it was like there were suddenly a thousand voices yelling inside her head all at once. She remembered falling to her knees, clutching her ears and crying out as the voices shouted different things at her. 

 Then the Professor came, promised her to help control her own mind. She didn’t want to trust the guy, even if he said he had the same power as her--even if he said everything would be alright. But the headaches were getting worse, the voices were getting louder and louder. She took him up on it and left her home to live in his boarding school. 

She met interesting people and--at the end of her stay--she achieved what she was there for. It took 4 years of her life, constant nightmares from reading too much of her colleagues' minds, and several isolated afternoons - more than she wanted to admit. Nevertheless, she could finally go to a concert or have a normal college class without crying from pain. 

She lived a normal life after her time at the Institute. She mostly ignored how her teenage years were far from the ordinary, or how sometimes she could hear a random thought from the person sitting next to her if the thought was loud enough. There were days when everything got too much, days where she lost control. She would stay in her house with noise cancelling headphones on (even if it didn’t work like that, it somehow helped) just going on throughout her day as quietly as possible. Tom knew she would get sick, even if working at the library rarely made her go into her lockdown modes. 

The library calmed her in a way. The thoughts were rarely disordered and loud, more focused and quiet. It fascinated her that even in their thoughts, people respected the quiet environment the library required. But sometimes, someone would appear with a troubled mind, something  books couldn’t even soothe. 

There was a regular now, he was one of those people whose thoughts were always all over the place; she couldn’t pick them apart, words would fly through her head -  words she often associated with the book he was reading. She wouldn’t know, it was Nancy that talked to him most times.

He always sat at the same old, worn out armchair, talking with the older people in the library as if they were the only people he was comfortable with. Sometimes, she would be restocking the books and see him looking at old newspapers. She never got the courage to talk to him. She figured her curiosity wasn’t enough to muster up the bravery needed to utter a word to him. 

Tom was on leave that day. He was stalling his doctor’s appointment, telling her his back pain wasn’t that serious, but she knew better. Every so often she would hear a whisper of pain in her head and she knew her boss wasn’t alright. It had taken her months, but she finally convinced Tom to go and get his back looked at. 

So she was working the counter that day: checking books off, admitting them, and then separating them so she could reshelve the books the next day. It was pretty boring work, repetitive, and she wondered how Tom kept busy all day when she finished all of her chores in a couple of hours. 

“Excuse me,” she heard, standing up as a reflex. Her eyes trailed up to the person standing in front of the main desk. It was the Loud Man (that was what she had taken to calling him). “I want to check this off.”

“Yeah,” she said, breathless. She was hearing too much from him, too many random words. It made her feel dizzy. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

She took the book from his hands, her fingers brushing slightly at his leather gloves, her thoughts suddenly got even more flooded at the slight touch. She could feel a rising nervousness in him, so much it blended with her own nerves. She quickly retrieved her hand, hoping she hadn’t seemed impolite. 

She sat back at her chair, looking at the book. “The Hobbit, huh?”

“I’m re-reading it,” he said, his eyes sincere, “I read it when it first came out.”

She looked at him funnily. “You read it in 1937?”

His expression froze, the slight smile morphing into a frown, his loud thoughts got louder with a single word: ‘lie’. “That’s a funny joke.”

She smiled at him, not taking his comment too seriously. “I’m a funny gal.”

He laughed, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. It was like he was only checking off  a box of social convention. It quickly faded to an impatient expression, and she could tell he wanted to get out of the situation as quickly as possible. 

“I haven’t seen you here before,” he mentioned.  

“Oh,” she muttered, “I’m usually reshelving things, Tom operates the front desk but he went to the doctor. I’m the only other person who works here, so,” she trailed off, “I’m Y/N.”

“Bucky,” he responded, his face slightly tensed. His eyes hovered over everything in the library, as if he was trying to find something wrong in it. 

“Nice to meet you, Bucky," she handed the book back to him. "It's due next week. Don't be late with it.”

“I'll return it tomorrow,” the words slipped from his mouth. 

“Fast reader?” she asked. 

“Got nothing else to do,” he shrugged, the word ‘lie’ once again swimming in her head in the mess of thoughts she received from him. 

He gave her one last smile and disappeared into the library. His thoughts got distant, but they lingered in her head. Flashes of pain, bright white lights, and screams littered her mind. She shook her head trying to get rid of them. It rarely worked, not with thoughts so persistent. 

Her head started to pound as the thoughts got more intense somehow. That never happened before, usually she could only hear people that stood near her and she was sure Bucky walked all the way to the back - he wasn’t close to her in any way. 

Her hand shook as she fished out her headphones. She put them on and connected them with her phone. Playing her music was a hopeful distraction, detering her brain enough to quiet down everything. She closed her eyes and breathed in and out slowly, just like the Professor had taught her. He used to say a quiet and strong mind was the key to ward off stray thoughts. 

It helped clear the thoughts, the mess of words only leaving whispers of broken thoughts in the way. She grabbed those and put them away, shoving them inside a mental box of lost thoughts. She did that with all the others, it helped keep her mind organized. 

She didn't know how much time had passed when she opened her eyes. She always took too much time clearing her mind, she would forget the outside world. Peter used to poke fun at her for that, drawing penises on her face. When she came to her senses she would always run after him, ready to tackle him to the ground. It was always useless: you can't outrun Peter. 

She noticed Bucky leaning on the frame of the front door. It was getting darker outside, an orange hue illuminating his eyes perfectly. Her breath hitched for a second before recomposing herself. 

“Good nap?” he asked, the smallest smirk on his lips.

“I wasn’t napping,” she smiled, shaking her head. She checked the clock and saw it was way past closing time. It didn’t go unnoticed by her that he had gone out of his way to stay with her when he should have gone home. “Why’d you stay?”

“Everyone left,” he said, “and I thought it wasn’t safe to leave you in a trance alone in an empty library.”

“I wasn’t in a trance,” she took her headphones off, resting them around her neck, “I was… clearing my head.”

He looked at her funnily, “Busy day?”

“It’s been weirder than usual,” she responded, smiling. She sat back down and logged off the system.

“How weird is working in a library?”

She scoffed, lighty. “You have no idea,” she smiled mischievously.

She picked up her things, keys in her hand. She left the front desk, going to Bucky’s side. “Thanks for staying,” she said, “You really didn’t have to.”

“It’s no problem,” his hand brushed the back of his neck with a timid smile, very unlike his general physique and stance, “I had nowhere else to go.”

She could feel his thoughts bubbling underneath her skin, wanting to come out and flood her brain with confusing images and words. Whispers of faint words echoed through her mind, soft enough that she couldn’t distinguish what they were. 

“I find that hard to believe,” she said, words slipping out of her mouth faster than she could stop it. Old habits she supposed. She could always keep thoughts of other people to herself, it didn’t seem fair to them she could hear their thoughts, the least she could do was keep them to herself. But when it came to her own, they just came out of her mouth before her conscience could stop her. “I mean,” she started, “a guy like yourself -  good looking and all - must get a lot of people just, um, throwing themselves at you.”

He breathed out, an awkward expression on his face. She could hear one word clearly: ‘lie’. “I don’t date a lot,” he stated, “Not really my thing.”

She changed her approach to the conversation, sensing the uncomfortable energy he oozed. “Oh,” she muttered, “It’s okay, I mean, I don’t date a lot either. I barely leave my flat actually,” she brushed a single piece of hair out of her face, “I hate crowded spaces, and I have just the weirdest habits. You know, not a lot of people are into women who work at a library and barely make minimum wage,” she mumbled, her hands in her pockets restraining her hands for gesturing too much just like she always did,  “I have a lot of issues too, at least that’s what the Professor used to say to my therapist before each session, which is fair and--oh God, I’m sorry, I just rambled.”

He chuckled (an actual chuckle), a full light-hearted laugh, one that rumbled throughout his chest. “It’s fine,” he said, “I like listening to you talk.”

She heard the words ‘like’ and ‘quiet’ shoot through her mind. She smiled at him shyly, looking down at the ground. “I don’t know how to respond to that,” she laughed awkwardly, “Thank you again, for waiting and being, I don’t know, just nice, I guess.”

He smiled, a slightly bigger smile then he had given her the entire time they’d interacted. “Yeah, yeah,” he shook his head, “No problem.”

Both of them walked out the door. She turned and locked it, then pushed a button that activated the security systems of the building. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then,” she said whilst shrugging. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he went down a few steps of the main staircase. “I’ll see, uh, see you tomorrow.”

She saw him go down the steps, listening to the faint echoes of his thoughts in her head. She felt the tips of her mouth curl up, watching him go as the sun set on the horizon. She hadn’t felt that before, that sense of mystery, of wonder and curiosity. His mind was in shambles, broken pieces of it laying in every corner of his brain, and she heard all of it. It compelled her, even if it felt completely wrong to be so enthralled by someone’s mind. 

She felt inadequate for liking his mind when he didn’t even know she could listen to it. It wasn’t the first time she felt that way. She remembered a boy from the shop near the Institute, she loved hearing his thoughts. She rarely left the Institute, but when she did she would always sneak to the store to buy a popsicle as an excuse to admire him. Sometimes he would smile at her and her brain would malfunction for just a second, his thoughts flooding her and overwhelming her every time that happened. 

She anticipated it was only a matter of time before that happened with Bucky again. She didn’t exactly know if that was a good thing, if she should indulge in the latent curiosity and table herself further with his mind - with him. 

The sun set in the horizon, the orange glow fading to the blue of the night sky. Walking down the streets, she could still hear remnants of his thoughts inside her head, his imprint already set on her. She wondered how long it would take for it to fade, if it would fade and if she wanted it to.  #

#

He gave her one last look before walking away from her. She could feel him uncomfortable, it lingered in her head longer than it should. He lingered in her more than he should. Her eyes followed him on his way out of the library. His mind was confused and tired, it left a trail of breadcrumbs calling for her to solve the mystery that was.

Tom’s doctor ordered maximum rest. Apparently, the problem in his back was more serious than both of them anticipated. The doctor ordered as much rest as Tom could have, meaning more breaks and leaving early. That also meant she had to do double the work - she wouldn’t mind at all had she not left a pile of returned books to shelve. 

She put her headphones and drove the cart full of books through the library all afternoon. Usually not a lot of people came in on a Monday afternoon to check out books, most were local teens that were there to study or make out. She always pretended not to know which ones were there to actually study or not; the thoughts always flew out to her when they were there to snog, most times it was hard to contain the shit-eating grin that would want to rise. 

She felt someone touching her shoulder. She jumped slightly, startled at the touch. Turning around, she saw Bucky, his thoughts overwhelming her. She rested the headphones around her neck, pulling out her phone to pause the music. “Hey, Bucky,” she breathed out, trying to contain the images and words in her head, “What are you, um, how you doing?”

“I’m good,” he smiled at her, looking down at the ground, “Um, Tom’s not at the front desk and I gotta return the book.”

“Oh yeah,” she took the book from his hand. It was still warm from his touch, “I thought you wouldn’t come today, to be honest.”

“I said I was,” he looked at her intensely, eyes narrowing in suspicion. 

“Well,” she smiled awkwardly and averted her eyes to the ground, “People sometimes say things they don’t mean.”

She didn’t realise what she said until it was out of her mouth. She remembered how he was uncomfortable around her, and how he would think about lies just as he told her something. Embarrassment flooded her senses, she felt heat rising to her cheeks. 

He looked at her weirdly, as if he was analyzing her. The more he looked, the more she listened to his mind. Words of suspicion floated around, she swallowed dryly and nervously at the thoughts. Echoes of screams and a crushing sense of guilt came through, she wondered what had happened for him to think of that. She wondered if she was the one person that caused him to think like that. 

“I’ll return it for you,” she said, motioning for the book, trying to get the attention off of her. 

“Yeah, thanks,” he said, “D’you mind if I get another?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” she said, “I’ll wait for you - at the front desk, I mean,” backing away from him, she accidentally bumped into a bookshelf,  “Not, um, not any other way.”

He stared at her and nodded slightly. She turned around and walked to the front desk, cringing at her inability to mutter coherent words to him without stumbling in the middle of a phrase. Something about him made her lose all of her composure, she didn’t know if it was the constant flood of thoughts and memories she listened to from his mind or just him making her nervous. 

She sat down at the chair behind the front desk, and rubbed her face, as if it would rub the embarrassment out of her. Sighing, she returned the book for Bucky. Just as the day before, his thoughts lingered in her head, images that meant very little to her were calling out.

“Why’s Tom not here?” he asked. She looked up at him, his blue eyes piercing through her. It was the first time she noticed his eyes, and somehow, it made everything worse. Instead of whispers, she heard everything clearly. Fools said the eyes were the windows to the soul. She knew better: someone’s eyes told her what they were thinking, what they were feeling. And she could tell Bucky felt a lot. 

“Um,” she looked back down to the book she just admitted back, moving it to the pile of books to reshelve. “He’s on leave, doctor’s orders.”

“Back pain was somethin’ serious then?” he responded, handing the new book to her. 

“Yeah, I told him to get that checked out, turns out I was right,” she shrugged, getting the book, her eyes still fixated on the computer. She felt the leather of his gloves graze the tips of her fingers, and a searing pain shot through her head. She brought the book down to the table, closing her eyes hoping the pain would stop. “Brave New World? Revisiting the classics, huh?” she struggled to keep a whimper from emerging from her mouth. 

“Yeah,” he breathed out. She heard a whisper of concern run though his head, “Um, are you alright? You don’t look very well.”

She shook her head, faking a smile, pretending she wasn’t getting a thousand thoughts from everyone in the library- especially Bucky’s thoughts - blasted at maximum volume on the speakers of her mind. “Just a bit of a headache.”

“It looks serious,” she could hear the leather from his gloves squeaking as he rested his hands on top of the counter. 

“I’ll be fine,” she gritted through her teeth. It had been years since she was last in a position like that, her head throbbing with thoughts that weren’t hers. “I have these all the time.”

She heard his thoughts of concern louder than the others. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

She dismissed his question, not wanting to dwell on his concern longer. “Here,” she handed the book back to him, her other hand closed in a fist, “it’s due next week. Don’t be late with it.”

“I won’t,” he said, his tone slightly strained. “I’ll return it tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she shook her head, her eyes closed and teeth gritted, choosing not to question how he would return that book tomorrow. She fisted both of her hands, her fingernails sinking in the skin of her hands. “Yeah, it’s fine,” she whispered to herself.

She heard his footsteps moving away from her, she sighed in relief, hoping it would mean her mind was going to calm itself and the headache would fade. Instead, the footsteps grew closer to her once again and then the leather of his gloves was grazing the skin of her arm, helping her stand up and guiding her somewhere.

“Imma take you to the hospital, doll” Bucky stated, not leaving room for discussion. 

“No,” she tried to shake off his hold, “My shift’s not over, I can’t leave.”

“You look terrible, and you’re clearly in a lot of pain,” he grabbed her arm again, “You need to go to a doctor.”

“Doctors won’t solve this,” she once again freed herself of his hold taking a step back from him. More of his thoughts flooded her mind, a mess of memories and guilt overwhelming her. “They never solve anything,” she breathed out, her voice breaking, “I just need to rest.”

“Doll,” he dragged, his tone temptive and careful. 

“No doctors,” it was the first time she had looked in his eyes willingly. There was a sort of weird determination in her eyes, one that came with years of terrible experiences with doctors. Hundreds of appointments that left her more desperate than before, endless tests and thoughts heard that she didn’t have any fix, as if she was broken in the first place.

His jaw tightened and his intense eyes fell upon hers. Her throat dried up under his gaze, her head unbearably heavy with his thoughts and hers. “Fine,” he growled, his hands moving to the pockets of his jacket, “Fine.”

“I need to go back to work,” she backed away from him, slowly. “I--I’m sorry,” she whispered, not sure why she was apologizing to him. 

“It’s okay,” his jaw was still tight, his eyes were still intense lingering at her. She couldn’t even appreciate his gaze at her, and how if she was a normal person,--if she didn’t have that goddamn gene--she would have let her heart skip a beat and feel coy under his gaze. “It’s your choice.”

There was a stubbornness to his stance, something that told her he wouldn’t be backing down so easily. She couldn’t go to any doctor, she couldn’t risk anyone finding out. She didn’t want to go through the tests and the never-ending questions, whether it was out loud or not. There was only one person who could possibly help her, and she refused to go to him. 

She backed away from him quickly, turning around and heading to the front desk once again. Her headphones found their way to her ears, and she started to blast her music at full volume, hoping, or rather praying, it would help ease her headache. She put her phone in her back pocket, grabbed the book she had just returned. 

The cart wove between the shelves with ease under her direction. She could still feel Bucky’s presence within the library, it was like carrying an iron ball tied to her feet at all times. Unlike the day before, he was more troubled, he felt more things and more intensely. It was too much. She wondered what happened for him to be so restless. 

The music hardly helped, it somehow made it worse. She couldn’t shake the tangled thoughts and think for herself, and the music disturbed even more. She dropped her headphones, frustrated. Her head pounded, desperation rose in her. She refused to call Professor, he would not help, he would only rub in her face that she shouldn’t have left. ‘This wouldn’t have happened if you stayed at the Institute, Y/N,’ she could imagine him saying if she closed her eyes. 

“Are you better?” turning around, she saw Bucky, his hands inside the pockets of his jacket. His eyes were focused down, his shoulder slightly hunched. It looked like he was ashamed of asking her if she was alright, almost as if it was his fault that she was in pain. It was, but she didn’t hold it against him. She was certain it wasn’t his fault. 

“Not really,” looking at him, she analyzed his expression. His jaw was tense, she could see his hands were fisted inside his pockets, “I just need to sleep.”

He nodded slightly. “You sure you don’t want anythin’?”

Her head tilted slightly and her mouth quirked up a little. She could tell he wanted to charm her, she heard the word bounce around her head faintly--the guilt was louder, though she could barely hear anything else--and she would lie if she said she didn’t like his attention. “I am” her hands entangled together, her knuckles tight, “but thanks for the offer.”

“Yeah, yeah” he breathed out, his hand brushing the side of his leg in a nervous habit. “I need to go,” he pointed back at the door, his face stony. 

He gave her one last look before walking away from her. She could feel him uncomfortable, it lingered in her head longer than it should. He lingered in her more than he should. Her eyes followed him on his way out of the library. His mind was confused and tired, it left a trail of breadcrumbs calling for her to solve the mystery that was. 

#

#

She sat cross legged on her bed, her eyes closed. There were candles around the room, the lighting dim and warm. The smell of  incense was strong, it swallowed the entire room. It was necessary, she needed that to ground herself to the real world, and not lose herself in her mind. 

 Since calling Professor was not an option, she tried to take matters into her own hands. She was going to untangle the knot of thoughts Bucky had left in her head by herself. It could potentially be dangerous, if she wandered too far who knows what could happen. She had taken the necessary precautions, but she had  only done that before under the careful and judgemental eye of the Professor. It was the first time  she was doing it alone, it scared her to think what could go wrong. 

She breathed in calmly and concentrated on the knot in front of her. Her head was a whole other world, it could be molded to her will, she felt safe in it. Now, it was a black empty space, the only thing filling it was herself and the pulsating mess of thoughts Bucky had gifted her. 

Kneeling in front of it, she carefully picked apart superficial thoughts, setting them aside. They didn’t matter to what she was there to do, they were only random words and snippets of his day-to-day life that she was sure were not the ones causing him so much pain. 

It didn’t take long for her to reach what pained him. It was surprising to see the amount of thoughts in front of her, usually it was much less. People tended to blow things out of proportion often, little things could cause a world of hurt to themselves. Bucky seemed to take a lot of pain, underestimating his grief. A typical mentality of someone who lacked the confidence, who didn’t trust themselves enough. 

She picked a single memory and entered it. 

The lighting was dim, a yellow glow swallowed her. The room was dirty and disgusting, the tiles that were once white tinted an yellowish gray. It looked like a room used for medical procedures, judging by the sheer amount of medical-like instruments littered around the desks. There were no calendars in sight, she had no way of knowing when the memory had happened. 

There were at least 5 or 6 people in the room, all surrounding a metallic chair. She approached the scene, carefully. Standing beside the chair, she saw Bucky.

He couldn’t be much older than he was when she met him. His hair was slightly longer than it was currently, just brushing his forehead. He was shirtless, his skin glistening in the faint lighting of the room. His hand was tied to the chair. His temples bruised from something she hadn’t figured out yet. His chest moved violently, struggling to breathe properly. And his left shoulder? There was a red swollen scar there. She doubted the wound was fresh, more like reopened. Maybe they tried putting a prosthetic there and it failed. It was likely they hadn’t administered any painkillers in the procedure, and she felt anger boiling inside her at the thought. 

“James Barnes, 3255...” he trailed off, muttering under his breath. His eyes were halfway closed, it looked like he barely could keep them opened.

“Попробуй снова,” try again, one of the doctors said. 

Her eyes lingered on the doctor that had just spoken. He looked evil, and she felt in her bones he was. His smile was wicked as his eyes lingered on Bucky struggling to catch his breath tied to that chair. All of the doctors looked sadistic and malefic. She felt goosebumps flood her skin, disgusted by the situation. 

The machine started whirling. An appendix lowered into Bucky’s left eye, another lowering to his right temple. Someone put a protection on his mouth, and she could see Bucky trying to free himself from his ties. Something told her, even in an altered state of mind he was already conditioned to know that noise and that feeling were bad news. She swore she saw his eyes flicker to hers just before everything started. 

The screams - his screams - bounced on the walls and filled her soul in a terrifying way. Tears came to her eyes as she carefully studied what was happening to him. His hands formed fists, his knuckles totally pale on his flesh hand. His eyes were shut violently, his mouth open in a painful way. She wanted to reach out and touch him, but she couldn’t. She wanted to hug him and take him out of that awful place, but she couldn't. It was all a memory, it already had happened and she couldn’t do anything about it. 

The doctors recited words in russian repetitively. Her eyes traveled to the doctor holding a red notebook. The wicked smile never faltered, completely ignoring the man in pain in front of him. She felt a urge she had fought so hard to suppress: she wanted to invade their brains, pick them apart and tear them down from the inside. She wanted to scream and shout at them and destroy everything in the room with a single thought. The fact that she was inside a memory and couldn’t physically change anything bothered her little. The anger and sadness she felt were real.

The machine stopped humming and Bucky stopped screaming. When he opened his eyes, she saw something that utterly terrified her. His eyes were empty, devoid of emotion, very much unlike mere seconds before. They were wide open, focused forward, looking beyond the doctor that was hovering over him. 

“Soldat?” one of the doctors asked, a wicked smile forming on his lips.

“Готовы соответствовать,” ready to comply.

The room became blurry and she was sucked out of the memory. She stood there in front of the knot of thoughts. A feeling of inadequacy overwhelmed her, and she willed herself out of her own mind. She shouldn’t have done that, not without his permission. He didn’t even know she could hear his thoughts, much less explore the memories he had left with her. 

She gasped for air as she came back to her senses. Bucky was much more complicated than she had anticipated, and the guilt he carried around with him wasn’t blown out of proportion and unwarranted. He felt as if things he had done, whatever those things were, had been his responsibility. But she knew more about the mind than him, she knew that that person she had watched be tortured was not him. Those eyes told her nothing, and his eyes told her everything and more. Those eyes were from someone who was a puppet, stripped of free will and agency. So maybe his guilt was warranted, but it didn’t mean it was his fault.

She rubbed her face and laid in her bed, looking up at the ceiling. Her heart raced inside her chest, the adrenaline of doing something so wrong settling on her. She would have to be honest with him.  She let a shuddery breath, as she realized she was at the point she avoided when meeting people. The fear of rejection was crushing and familiar and with time she realized it was easier to push people away, not forming connections deeper than trivial than to explain what she was. But Bucky was different, she felt it in her bones. And she wasn’t willing to let him go. #

#

Tuesdays were fuller than Mondays, but only slightly. Maybe one or two more students came in, trying to get ahead of the curve and not procrastinate their studies more than necessary. The amount of work she had was enough to keep her busy throughout the day, even without Tom’s help. 

She hummed the song in her headphones, weaving her way through the shelves, puting the few books that were returned that day back where they belonged. It was the part of her job that gave her the most pleasure. It gave her a sense of control and order, something that had lacked almost her entire life, especially while she was at the Institute. Professor had controlled everything back then. He controlled her and Peter and all the others to be something that most would not have chosen to be if given the choice. It made her feel helpless and tiny. But she had freed herself from that reality, much to Professor’s dislike. And now she could happily find her control in tiny things, like putting books back on their shelves. 

“How come I always come when no one’s at the front desk?”, her headphones fell to her neck as she turned around to look at Bucky. He wore a shy smile on his face, clutching two books tightly in his gloved hands. His thoughts were quieter that day, but still present and loud. She doubted it was enough to give her a headache, but it was enough to leave a mark on her mind.

“Well, I’d say it’s just your luck,” the corners of her mouth quirked up. “Wanna check those out?” she pointed at the books in his hands.

“Yeah,” he breathed out. She started walking towards the front desk, Bucky at her tail. “So, are you better?”

“Yep,” she nodded, getting behind the desk and taking the books out of his hands, “Told you I just needed to rest.”

“Doll,” his head tilted, his eyes carefully analyzing her. She heard worry bounce around his head, “you looked like you were about to drop dead.”

She shook her head, a smile creeping its way to her face. “It’s more common than you think, it’s fine, Bucky, really,” dismissing his worry, like it was the best way to earn his trust. “For whom the Bells tolls? Really diving into the classics, huh?”

“Need some comfort,” he shrugged. “It’s been 80 years since I read these, it felt like the time to re-read.”

“80 years,” she dragged, “You look a lot younger.”

His face became briefly stony, his brain going haywire for a second before he relaxed and gave her an awkward laugh. “You’re a lot funnier when you’re not in pain.”

“Aren’t we all?” she slid the book over to him. “It’s due next week, don’t b--”

“Be late with it, I know,” he completed, “I’ll return it tomorrow. Like always”

She heard words of charm and flattery from his mind. It was a timid voice saying it, if she had been distracted she wouldn’t have heard it. Her eyes trailed downwards, her smile tiny and shy. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say that you’re lying.”

“How’d you know better?” his eyes narrowed at her and his head tilted to the side. She found it absolutely charming that he did that when he was confused. 

“I read minds,” she said, seriously, her face impartial, very much unlike mere seconds before. 

“That’s funny,” he laughed, pointing at her. 

She opened an awkward smile at him, looking carefully at his expression. His mind told her he thought she was pranking him, being funny to charm him. She wasn’t. “I know you think I’m trying to charm you,” her eyes looking at her feet, her fingers entwined in a nervous habit, “but I’m not,” she finished, whispering. 

She could hear confusion clearly in his thoughts. It wasn’t exactly at how she could read his mind, more to why she was telling him the fact. “I can hear your thoughts very clearly, they’re very loud,” she whispered. After all these years of experience with this power, it never got easier telling people about it. “And I didn’t think it was fair to listen to your thoughts - you think a lot you know? - all so loudly and clearly,” She couldn’t look at him, her eyes were still cast downwards in shame, “If you want to, I can explain how it is, we can go for a walk or whatever.”

She could feel his intense gaze on her skin, she didn’t dare to look up. Disappointment was one of the things she hated the most, one she had dealt with a lot. Seeing it in his face would surely break her heart, even if only a little bit. “Fine,” she heard him say it, airly, “But you’re paying.”

She looked up and his expression was impassive. But his eyes were twinkling with a sort of curiosity and wonder that could only mean good things. A weird sort of relief washed over her. She let out a sigh, her features relaxing. “Great,” she brushed a piece of her hair out of her face, “great,” she breathed out, “I just need to close this place.”

“I’ll wait.”

#

#

“Tell me what that boy’s thinking,” he said, pointing to a little boy by the pond feeding the ducks happily. 

Her eyes trailed to the kid, trying to focus on him. It was an exercise she hadn’t done in a while, since she had left the Institute really. “He’s happy he’s with his dad,” she reported, “he doesn’t see his dad often and he misses him.”

“What about the dad?” his hands were in his pockets, his gaze locked on the dad sat on the bench just behind the kid. 

“He’s guilty he doesn’t spend enough time with his son,” she added, her eyes following the posture of the man. His eyes were fixed on his son, watching his every move. It was clear he felt some sort of guilt towards his son, and it was easy to assume that by his stance alone--if you were observant enough. Bucky was, “He works two jobs to pay the child support. He can’t find time between them often.”

 “How do I know that you didn’t just meet those people and they told you their life story?” Bucky questioned, his gaze intense and locked on her. They stopped beneath a tree, orange sun rays peeking from between the leaves. 

“It’s the first time I've ever seen them,” she plopped down beneath the tree, crossing her legs childishly, “I barely leave my apartment.”

He stared at her, his gaze strong and judgmental. Huffing, he calmly got down and sat beside her, his legs spread out in front of him. He crossed his hands on his lap, and her gaze locked at his left hand. She wondered if the arm was still the same as the one she had seen in his memory. That arm sent chills down her spine, it was intimidating and terrifying, the red star staring at her menacingly. “Why, though?”

“I can’t, really,” she shrugged. She looked up, her head tilting to the side, considering her words. “I have these lockdowns when I’m surrounded by too many people. It hasn’t happened in years but,” her eyes closed, the memories of the last lockdown she had flooding back at her. She saw her younger self falling to her knees in the middle of the Institute’s lobby, screaming and clutching her ears, “but it happens, and I’d rather not go through that. I’m not in speaking terms with the person that can help me and I’ll do anything to not talk to him again.”

His lips formed a thin line. A hum trembled his chest, his head resting on the tree behind them. “How much have you seen from…” his jaw clenched, his voice quiet and hesitant. 

“Not much,” she dragged. “I stopped after I realized that I, um, that I was…”she found she couldn’t complete the sentence under his strong gaze. “It wasn’t fair to you for me to see anything, not without you knowing.”

“What did you see?” he gritted through his teeth, his eyes watery and sad. 

“I saw,” she gulped, her voice straining with emotion as she looked deep into his eyes, “I saw you, um, tied to a chair. You were so out of it,” she shook her head, tears flooding her eyes, “you were mumbling your name and some numbers. And then,” she sighed, picking up strength to continue, “and then they - they broke you.”

“What else?” he growled, his hands in fists. His eyes were no longer sad, there was a latent anger in them. It made her sad that she was the cause of his anger, or rather the target. 

“Nothing,” she shook her head, “nothing else. Nothing other than random words from your day to day.”

He considered her for a moment, his eyes hovering her face frantically. She tried her best not to listen to his mind, trying to focus on elsewhere, on someone else. But he was like a magnet, and she could help but to be attracted to him and his thoughts. Words of confusion, anger and infatuation floated in his brain and echoed in hers. “Can you turn it off? Your...thing?” he pointed to her head almost in disdain. She knew better than to believe his gestures.

“Not exactly,” she hugged her legs, her chin resting on her knees. “If I could, I would have, a long time ago.”

They remained in silence after that. He looked at the clouds, considering everything she had just told him. She looked everywhere but at him, trying to stray her mind from him. It felt impossible,  he became her gravity center, and she couldn’t really escape it. She found that she didn’t want to. 

“How did you get the…” he tried to find the right words, “the mind reading thing?”

She laughed at his silly phrasing. “I was born with it,” she looked down at her hands, her cheeks feeling hot. “Professor picked me up and took me to the Institute after I turned 13 because of it.”

“That sounds like a cute way of saying you were kidnapped by the guy,” he commented, his tone serious and his eyes on her. 

“I wasn’t,” she tilted her head towards him, as if she was telling him a secret. “I went willingly, actually. The nightmares were getting worse and the headaches,” her eyes locked with his for a brief second as she brushed a piece of her hair out of her face, “well, headaches like yesterday’s are light ones compared to those. And the Professor, he promised to help me control it.”

“That doesn't sound suspicious at all,” she could hear him roll his eyes in disdain. 

“He did help me,” she assured him, “but at the time, I didn't realize that it would come with a cost.”

“I’m guessing he wanted something out of you,” he inferred, “that you weren’t willing to give.”

“Something like that,” she responded, her voice vague and distant. Remembering the things Professor had planned for her made her scared and, most of all, angry. Angry he dared to think she would be so desperate to abide by his wishes. She had learned that following his plans brought her nothing more than frustration and loneliness, he robbed her and her friends of a stable childhood so they could become his pawns. “He wasn’t a good person.”

“I get that,” he whispered, his head down, looking at his hands. He opened and closed his left hand repetitively. The anger he had felt once she had told him what she had done came back, but directed towards someone else. 

“Listen, Bucky,” she turned her whole body towards him. Her hands itched to grab his, but she knew neither of them were prepared to cross that line, “I’m truly sorry that I… couldn’t control myself. I figured that if I could decipher your thoughts the headaches would stop, but I didn’t realize how much you kept hidden,” she confessed, her fingers fiddling with themselves in a nervous habit. “I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, I want to give you a chance to tell me these things yourself, that’s why I told you.”

He looked at her for a moment before responding. “You told someone who you’d only known for a couple of days your biggest secret,” he recited, almost as if he had been rehearsing the line in his mind over and over, “because you felt bad.”

“Well, when you put it like that it sounds foolish,” she grumbled. “I know what’s like not to be given a choice, and I wanted you to have the choice to, you know, walk away from me,” she finished, her voice just above a whisper. She struggled to keep her tears at bay, a couple of them spilling and running down her cheeks. 

“Why would I walk away from you?” he asked her, sincerity in his eyes. 

“You wouldn’t be the first person,” her eyes were cast forward, looking way beyond the park. She didn’t bother cleaning the tears that were rolling down her face. “And you wouldn’t be the last, certainly.”

“Doll,” he dragged, his voice low and beautiful, “I wouldn’t.”

She could barely hear his thoughts over her own. She couldn’t think straight anymore, too many emotions flooded her own senses, it was all too much. Her hands rubbed her eyes, trying to rid them of the tears. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cry.”

“It’s okay,” he shook his head. “But, seriously, don’t tell your biggest secret to someone you barely know.”

She laughed at his suggestion, her smile watery. “I won’t, don’t worry,” her head tilted to the side, her eyes carefully studying his face. It was the first time she truly took him in. His face was so wonderfully beautiful. His nose and his lips were perfect. But it was his eyes that would always fascinate her. So wonderfully blue and so beautifully deep. It was impossible to not fall in love with him with those eyes. 

He got up and brushed his gloves on the sides of his pants. He offered her his right hand, “How’d you say we get that coffee now and you tell me the craziest things you’ve ever seen people think?”

She smiled sincerely at him, her eyes looking up at him in admiration. She took his hand and she let him guide her.

#

#

“Doll, you need to start staying at the front desk,” he leaned casually on the side of the bookcase, looking calmly at her as she turned around to face him. “What if someone important comes in and there’s no one there?

She felt amused at Bucky’s teasing and smiled. “Tom’s supposed to be there, he must have just left to do something,” she stated, smugly. “Besides, you’re the only important person that comes here. At least, to me you are,” she tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. 

He bit his lip and looked at her in a way that made her melt. “Aren’t you a charmer.”

She could hear clearly in his thoughts he was amused by her behavior, the word ‘charm’ levitating around her brain. “I learned from the best,” she shrugged brushing past him and walking towards the front desk. 

She heard his heavy footsteps behind her. “Are we still up for tonight?” his voice had an edge that wasn’t there before. She sat down on her chair behind the counter as her eyes carefully analyzed his face. His jaw was tense, his eyebrows were furrowed and his fingers were tight around the book he meant to return. 

“I’ve been up for it every day for the past month, Bucky,” she narrowed her eyes at him. His jaw clenched even more in a way she didn’t know possible. She tried to ignore his thoughts and the words that bounced around her brain. “What are you trying to say?” she asked softly, taking the book from him gently. 

He sighed, resting his elbows on the counter he leaned in. “Sam needs my help,” he said, his voice low and tired. She could tell he wasn’t telling her the full truth, but she didn’t push it. 

“Oh,” she muttered, typing away to return the book he brought. “So you’re cancelling?”

“Doll, I wouldn’t if it wasn’t important,” he stated. She could tell he was sad, his eyes told her so, and so did the words in his head.  It pained her to see him give up their time together. It was cherished by both, and she suspected it was maybe one of the only moments of the day Bucky didn’t have to hold everything in. Mostly because she could see everything he was hiding. 

“Don’t,” she stopped him before he could further apologize. “I understand, an Avenger’s calling you,” she whispered, a devilish smile on her lips, “how could you not answer it?”

“I can think of a lot of ways,” he gritted. He had told her his qualms with Sam Wilson, but it only seemed like friendly teasing and nothing else. Nothing too serious, that's what she judged it to be. 

“Bucky,” she warned him, “there are more important people than me, and Sam is definitely one of those. Don’t feel guilty, that’s what I’m trying to say.”

“Y/N,” he never used her first name. He would call her ‘doll’, or ‘love’ or even sometimes ‘sweetheart’, but never by her first name. Hearing it leave his lips sobered her up quickly, “there’s no one more important to me than you.” 

Her mouth hung open in complete shock at his declaration. Her brain short-circuited for a moment, before recomposing herself. She opened her mouth to respond him but he quickly beat her to it. 

“I’m truly sorry, love,” he shook his head, his eyes cast downwards. 

Her eyes hovered him quietly for a second before slipping the book to him. “I extended the due date. Two weeks and nothing more,” she said, sternly. “You know the drill, Bucky.”

“Don’t be late with it, I know,” he recited. His eyes lingered on hers for longer than it normally would. It felt as if he was memorizing her, studying the little details of her face, the little quirks of her personality. She felt heat rising to her cheeks, like every time she was under his intense gaze. He looked downwards for a moment, his mouth slightly opened. “I won’t be gone too long, just a couple of days.”

She got up from her chair and walked to his side. She bit her lip as he watched her go around the front desk. He leaned on his arm, casually standing there as she looked down at her feet in front of him. “You have my number, I’m just a phone call away,” she muttered shyly. She couldn’t handle this flirty interactions with Bucky. Mostly because she would have to juggle her own thoughts with his. But there was something about his demeanor at that moment that put her at ease, she didn’t feel the need to juggle both of their thoughts, only to embrace them. She let herself feel the butterflies and be fully flustered under his charm. It felt nice. “I’m gonna miss you,” she whispered. 

“Yeah, me too,” he looked at her eyes, deeply and soulfully. She didn’t know how she hadn’t melted at the spot. “I’ll be back, I promise.”

The corners of her mouth quirked up. “I know,” her lips brushed his cheek. She quickly kissed it and looked back at him. “You should probably go. Don’t wanna keep Sam waitin’.”

He smiled at her one last time before leaving her. His smile, there was something different about that. It felt sincere and genuine, unlike all his other smiles that were usually caused by awkwardness and embarrassment. She had seen something completely different in that smile, something she couldn’t exactly place yet. 

#

#

She arrived quietly at her apartment, carrying a bag full of groceries and flowers for her tiny garden out in the fire-escape. Her upstairs neighbor had complained about it for months, until he joined and now she shared it with him. She had plans to make the whole building to contribute to the little garden, she was almost convincing her downstairs neighbor and she was a pivotal person. 

The apartment was too quiet, unlike normally. There were always whispers of her neighbor’s thoughts echoing through the walls, the busy sounds of the streets, the shouts outside from people going by their day. 

“I know you’re here,” she shouted to her apartment, “you weren’t subtle about it.”

“I knew you wouldn’t talk to me, otherwise,” Professor rolled in. He hadn’t changed a single bit since the last time she had seen him. His clothes were the same, his bald head glistened the same way it did, and his chair was just as stoic as his face. She hated him and seeing him in her apartment only reminded her of that.

“That’s cause I don’t want to talk to you, Professor, I thought I had made myself clear,” she growled, resting the bag and the flowers on the kitchen counter. “Why are you here?”

“It has come to my knowledge you’ve been having your episodes,” he said, robotically. 

“I’m not having any episodes, I'm fine” she muttered, her back turned to Professor. She cursed Peter mentally for being a fucking snitch. Next time she saw him she was going to give him a piece of her mind. 

“You’re not,” he corrected her. As usual, she only heard him in a tone of superiority and condencense, he always knew best. “We know what happens when you let yourself go with other people’s thoughts, child.”

“Don’t call me that,” she gripped the counter, her teeth gritted and her eyes shut. Her hands felt clammy, almost slipping from the counter. She had escaped the Institute, she had sworn she would never go back, for fucking Peter to bring Professor to her again. She knew Peter did it because he was worried. It still didn’t make it sting less. “I said I’m fine, I have everything under control.”

“How long have you been taking the suppressing pills?” he asked her, his voice judgemental and cold. 

She turned around to face him for the first time. He was impossible to read, he always made sure of that. As much as she begged him to teach her how to do it, to help her block out thoughts and stop people from getting into her head, he never really did it. She had to discover for herself, and, in that, she never was as effective as him. “It’s none of your business,” she scoffed. “It’s not like I’m of any use to you anymore, Professor. I’m sure you have a brand new shiny pawn you can play with that’s even better than I was. Besides,” she added, crossing her arms on her chest, “you gave me those pills.”

“They’re for emergencies only, Y/N, not continuous use,” he shook his head at her, his piercing through hers, She looked down avoiding his gaze, her jaw tight. Her head started to feel heavy, and she didn’t know if it was his prying or something worse. “Do you remember the last time you used those same pills continuously?”

Her teeth gritted and she closed her eyes to stop him from seeing the tears accumulating in them. She looked at him, her eyes completely angry and full of hurt, “I'm a lot stronger that I was back then,” she gritted. 

“Bad things happen when you repress your power,” Professor warned, leaning on his knees. “You learned that the hard way.”

“I haven't taken them in days.” she stated, trying to keep her head focused and her voice free of emotion. Professor considered her for a moment. She could feel him prying in her head, searching for traces of a lie well told. She knew he wouldn’t find any, she told the truth, even if it was half of it. 

“I know you’re not telling everything,” he told her, his hands fiddling with the orange vial temptevely. “What are you hiding?”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes at him. When she was younger, she wouldn’t even consider behaving badly around him. Now, she knew better. “I don’t owe you any explanations, Professor. I don’t even understand why are you here,” she pointed accusingly at him. “You've done a pretty good job showing you don’t care all my life, I find it hard to believe you care now.”

His eyes found hers, as always completely unreadable. But she saw the little details, the way his jaw tightened slightly, the way his fingers opened and closed the cap of the bottle nervously. It was hard to tell if the tick was fabricated or not, she could never tell with him. “Very well,” he said. “I’ll be in touch,” he wheeled himself towards the door. 

“Please don’t,” she said clearly as he exited her apartment.

As the door closed she let a shuddery breath, laying on her couch in exhaustion. She let a couple of tears fall from her eyes, quickly drying them after. She had cried because of Professor too many times in her life, she would not cry for him one more time. 

Her phone vibrated on her back pocket. She sniffed and fished out, checking what was the cause of the notification. ‘Just arrived. Call me’ from Bucky. Her heart picked up, smiling at her phone happily. 

It rang a couple of times before he picked up. “You’re late,” she said, before he had the chance to say anything to her, “you said a couple of days.”

“I’m sorry, doll,” he breathed out, “it took longer than anticipated.”

“It’s okay,” she shook her head, a smile on her face. “The book, though, you’re gonna have to pay a fee for being late.”

He laughed at the other end of the line. “First time I ever return it late, can’t you make an exception for me?”

“I didn’t do anything, it was Tom,” she stated quickly. Her lips adorned a permanent smile, so much it barely seemed Professor had just left her apartment. They stayed quiet before anyone said anything.

“I missed you,” he whispered, her heart racing in her chest as he recited the words. 

“I missed you too,” she replied back, her voice soft and full of emotion. She tried to contain her tears, an accumulation of feelings from just before and that moment but she couldn’t. “I was so lonely, I’m so glad you’re back.”

“Me too, love,” he sighed on the other end of the line. She could imagine him looking down at his feet, a silly smile on his lips. His eyes were twinkling in her mind the way that melted her, he looked absolutely beautiful as usual. “Do you want to go out? I owe you 2 weeks worth of coffee.”

She looked at the ceiling, trying to contain her heart and failing miserably. “Yeah, yeah, I’d like that,” she breathed out. 

“I’ll pick you up in 20.”

She hung up the phone and got up from her couch, a silly smile on her face. Her smile soon faded after she realised what she had done. She was only off the pills for 2 days, it wasn’t enough time for her powers to normalize. Without Bucky present, the abstinence wasn’t as noticeable. Sure, she could hear everything more clearly, the music her neighbor had stucky in his head, or the busy thoughts of a random person passing on the sidewalk. But Bucky always had a thousand things in his head, and that surely would be a problem. 

She was telling the truth to the Professor. She wasn’t taking them continuously, only a couple of times a week, when Bucky’s thoughts were always the loudest. But she hadn’t told him that she had stopped so late, later than she should have. She was toeing the line again, just like she had done when she was a kid and the prospect of not listening to everyone all the time seemed too good to be true. 

A sigh escaped her lips, her heart racing inside her chest, not for the right reasons. She hoped she could control it, keep her latent power at bay just like she did everyday. It was easy to fool herself like that. She forgot how addicting Bucky could be, how wrapped up in him she would get. It was almost an experiment: how would she deal with Bucky’s mind when her power was at the most raw. She wondered if she should be curious or scared. 

Her hands sweated as she unpacked her groceries. A cold rush ran through her spine, and she remembered the symptoms she experienced the last time she was off the pills. Dread settled in her, anticipating what was about to come. She cursed Professor, her stupid mutated gene and those fucking pills. She often wondered what would have happened if she never manifested any powers, how her life would have played out. 

Then, her senses were flooded by Bucky. She whipped around to the door, seeing the shadow of his feet lingering outside. Her head felt heavy and there was a pain blooming, something much worse than the ones she’d endured when she first met him. It was a side effect, she should have expected that. She leaned on her table for a moment, trying to get used to the pain. The knock echoed through her apartment. She barely registered it, his thoughts flooding her. It was all so incoherent, flashes of yellowed memories and newer ones ran through her head. She heard her name screamed in his head over and over again, his voice whispering pet names he had given her with images of their time together. 

She opened the door and there he was, standing in front of her. He wasn’t wearing his traditional gloves, and he had dodged the leather jacket of a simple longed sleeved t-shirt pulled at his elbows. It was the first time she saw his arm being displayed so freely, so unashamedly. He wore a boyish smile on his face, holding a bouquet of yellow and purple flowers meant for her. “I brought you flowers,” he handed the bouquet to her, his eyes twinkling with a charm she hadn’t seen in him before.  “You said you wanted to expand your garden,” he justified with a shrug, his eyes on the bouquet. The smile never left his lips. 

She almost forgot about her symptoms, letting his charm encapsulate her and warm her heart. She accepted the flowers, their smell overwhelming her. She stepped aside for him to come in, he ducked his head and got in the apartment quietly. It wasn’t the first time he had been over, but it was still odd to see him in her place. It looked smaller with him in it, less lonely. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, closing the door. Her hands glued to the plastic wrapping of the flowers. She wiped her other hand on her pants, gulping nervously. If before she thought his thoughts were loud, in that moment it seemed like they were being blasted in amplifiers at maximum volume. “How’ve you been?” she stuttered, her mouth dry. 

“I’m good, good,” he laughed looking down, his hands on his pockets. She could tell he wasn’t lying, for the first time she asked him that question he actually answered it honestly.  “How are you, doll?”

She grabbed a pot and some dirt to stick the bouquet in it from the cabinet under the kitchen island. “I’m okay,” she replied quietly. Resting the supplies next to the sunflower she had just bought, a wave of nausea washed over her. She felt the color drain out of her face, feeling lightheaded. Her hands gripped tightly around the backrest of a chair, trying to not collapse to the floor. 

She heard him rush to her side, his hands supporting her. The cool touch of his metal arm was contrastant with how hot her skin felt at the moment. “You don’t look okay,” it was like he was yelling in her ear, but she knew his voice was barely above a whisper. “What happened?”

“I’m off my pills,” she gripped his forearms, her eyes shut close. She tried organizing her head, separating her own thoughts with the thoughts of others. 

“Let me get them for you,” he guided her to the couch, gently sitting her down. 

“No,” she reached for him, her voice dying in her throat. Her hold on his wrist was weak, her eyes closed. The light only worsened her headache, she couldn’t bear to open her eyes. “There’s none left.”

“What d’you mean there’s nothing left?” he asked her, his voice strained. She knew he tried to contain his worry, but it slipped out in his tone. If she wasn’t so sick, she would have appreciated his care. “It seems like something important to have.”

“Professor took ‘em,” her words slurred, “I can’t take more, Bucky.”

“Why?” he hesitated, “what happened?”

“My powers,” her jaw clenched at the sharp pain going through her head, “I just wanted to spend time with you, Bucky, but the pain…” the tears spilled from her eyes, her eyes still closed. The grip on Bucky was tight, she was holding onto him like he was her lifeline, the only thing grounding her to the real world and not her head. 

He sat beside her, his hands hovering over her, unsure of what to do. She heard a sliver of guilt going through him, and sadness overwhelmed her because of that. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to her. 

“No,” she shook her head, wrapping him up in her arms, “it’s my fault. You’re amazing, Bucky, and I couldn’t stay away,” her tears wet his shirt, her head resting on his shoulder snuggly. She couldn’t help but notice the safe feeling that overwhelmed her in that moment. It was almost like it was where she belonged, safe in his arms. “Your mind… it’s just so beautiful, you’re so beautiful, Bucky. And I was greedy, I wanted you to myself, even if it meant a little pain.”

“A little?” he asked, his voice laced with a sassiness she hadn’t seen before. 

She laughed quietly, looking at his face. His blue eyes were sincere, full of emotion and thoughts she could never bring herself to decipher. “A lot,” she sighed, her eyes fixated on his.  “I fell back into old habits.”

“I get it,” he assented, his eyes cast on hers, looking for something she didn’t quite know what it was. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Stay,” she whispered, her heart beating fast inside her. “Please, stay.”

And Bucky did. For the first time, someone who had met her, all of her, stayed with her. That only made her love him more. He hugged her tightly, his head resting on the crook of her neck. “I’ll stay,” he reassured her, his thumb caressing her shoulder gently, “I got you”

She mumbled ‘I’m sorry’ like a prayer on his shoulder. It was too much input, her own emotions and his blended and her tears were their escape. “I shouldn’t have unloaded this on you,” she sniffed, breaking the hug. “It’s not fair.”

“Hey,” he gently pushed her hands out of her face. Her face was swollen and her eyes were red, but she could tell he didn’t care, she heard the word ‘beautiful’ bounce around in his head. “I can take it.”

She shook her head, words unable to escape her quivering lips. “Hey, stop,” he said firmly but lovingly, “listen to me,” he grabbed her face delicately, his fingers brushing her cheeks delicately. “I can take it, doll. Trust me. I have my demons too,” he whispered, “and they don’t scare you. You don’t scare me. I’m not going anywhere.”

Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t look away from his eyes. The sincerity in them disarmed her completely, the little restraint she had completely gone. Her breath hitched at the sight of the glimmer in his eyes and the love in his mind. “Thank you,” she mouthed, her voice gone. 

“You’re welcome,” he smiled at her, the boyish grin he had sported when he arrived back. “How about I make you some tea?” he got up, walking a few steps to the kitchen. He moved around like her tiny little flat was where he belonged. “I make a mean chamomile tea.”

She laughed quietly, her brain slowly calming down, her fever settling. “I’d like that.”

[dorotharry]

tiny dancer ; chapter two

Pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

PROLOGUE | CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 3

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: torture, nightmares, angst, let me know if there's anything else :) 

Summary: After being drafted for the war in 1942, Bucky goes to the ballet a week before having to leave with his best friend Steve. There he becomes infatuated you with the prima ballerina of the show, and he just has to meet you before his last week in Brooklyn is up. He hopes one day you would meet again; little does it know it will be 72 years later.

A/N: honestly I have no clue where I’m going but I’m hoping you’re all still following. There’s still soooo much to go into readers past and yep, it’s gonna take a while but I hope you enjoy this. Please feel free to give feedback, like and repost it would mean a lot! :)

MY MASTERLIST

*gif not mine

1943

Your head felt groggy, as you woke up. Not enough energy from an ounce of your body to open your eyes for the time being. The more your body woke up from the darkness of slumber the more the pounding of aches and pains became less subtle and started to fill each and every muscle. You weren’t sure where you were or what had happened, but you suddenly became aware that your surroundings weren’t familiar. The air was too cool and there was an eeriness from lack of noise.

Finally, you were able to pry your eyes open. The colours swirled around you into one, until they became to create recognisable shapes. Although this wasn’t somewhere you recognised, just as your mind had thought even before getting to look around.

You were laid down on a metal ‘bed’ if you could even call it a bed. The coolness of the metal began to get to you a shiver running down your spine and you attempted to get up. Only to be restricted. It was now when you noticed you had straps holding your ankles, down, but not only this; there was a limpness to your form. In fact, you didn’t have any real connection to your muscles. As if a switch had been turned on in your head you realised, this wasn’t a bed. It was a table.

Suddenly your anxiety rose. In an ill attempt to do something you turned you head groggily to the left, only to be met with machines, and hospital devices. You took in a sharp breath. This definitely wasn’t a hospital so why the machines? Rolling your head to the right with just as much difficultly as last time you were met with darkness. The faint sound of feet shuffling in the distance, and the whirring of more machines.

Almost as if whoever it was had realised you were awake, a bright white light turned on above you causing you to groan from the sudden contrast to the previous darkness. The footsteps became louder, as whoever it was approached you from their hiding spot.

“Ah you’re awake,” the voice started, “you know you gave our men quite a difficult time back there. Are you going to behave this time?”

Your voice barely was able to respond, only a hushed whisper came out, “Who are you? Where am I?” This worked to rejog your memory as you saw flashes of men running after you, as you had leapt from this same table. You had gotten pretty far and fought back fairly well but this place… whatever it was; was a maze. Realising now that amongst being kidnapped and knocked unconscious. Your first attempt to escape was probably why you were in pain all over. A vision of a few men jumping on top of you and beating you unconscious. Again. That must have been why you were tied down this time.

“I think you know the answer to that.” the small man with glasses responded appearing finally out of the darkness. “…We’re HYDRA, and you y/n...” He spoke reaching under your chin in a condescending manner. “…Were firstly going to be a pawn against your stupid Captain America. But you’ve shown promise, something our other soldiers don’t have.  Neither your American ones. My guess is it comes from your ballet training.” He shrugged as he moved away from you, turning and looking for something. Suddenly his hand was on a switch and machines began to rumble.

“Please,” you responded choking on your own words, “please just kill me!” You knew something was coming, otherwise why would be so aloof.

He chuckled at your words as he stood behind you. “The red skull doesn’t want me to do that, he needs more soldiers, and that’s exactly what we’re going to make you.” And with that you saw a metal machine slowly being dropped down over your left eye, and below your right jaw, causing your panic to rise. As quick as the unbearable pain started, so did darkness.

Present day ; 2017

You woke up screaming as the pain of what had happened almost a century ago shot through your entire body. You fumbled out of bed in a sweat like you did most nights. Heading towards your small kitchen in your small apartment. It was filled with greys, no life within in, you felt there was no need, why celebrate a life with no life?

Your life had changed in so many ways after 1943. You were one of HYDRA’S many toys, the many men that surrounded you called you tiny dancer, but not in a kind way, in a misogynistic arrogant way. Most people at that time though saw you as a weapon, something to be feared of, and they should have.

After you had stumbled upon the Winter Soldier on a mission in 2014 working as a freelance agent having cut your ties with HYDRA mere months before hand, it was only a few months when so had Captain America. From what you had heard amongst assassins under the radar living in Madripoor like you, it hadn’t gone well for HYDRA and now the Winter Soldier was nowhere to be found, invoking fear within many who had made themselves enemies to him. But you were sure his best friend would be looking for him. Whilst you had decided to go against helping him, Steve was not that kind of person.

Time had not been kind to you, you were no longer the frail girl who could fall in love in a week. In fact, you weren’t sure if you actually could feel love anymore. HYDRA had to make sure there was no collateral. Still once you saw him that night you wondered how amongst your many years with HYDRA, how you had never run into Bucky: The Winter Soldier. You had heard of the winter soldier, but you never knew it was Bucky behind the ghost of a person. Probably on purpose, HYDRA had been in your mind. Tthere was no doubt they knew who he was to you back then.

Not only did it invoke these thoughts, but it had led to your retirement. Well not your retirement, you were still about 25 years old on the outside, and though nor Steve or Bucky knew you were alive you knew how it felt to be in their position.

Hiding out in your small apartment in Madripoor was where you had spent most of your life since 2014, staying on the down low in case HYDRA somehow re-emerged, looking for revenge on a project they had wasted so much time on. You.  

You weren’t sure why they were so surprised people like you hated them with so much anger. They had taken your life, Bucky’s life and made you weapons against your will. You didn’t hold their values, it was forced upon you.

You shook yourself from your thoughts again. You only got sentimental after nightmares, and the nightmares had been pretty continuous after seeing Bucky those few years ago, so really you were sentimental most mornings. You think it had something to do with seeing him and how it brought back memories you didn’t even know you had.

Reaching for a bottle of water, you took a sip looking over at the clock that read 3am. You groaned, knowing that you’d probably never have a good night’s sleep again. Terrible payback for a terrible past. No sleep for the wicked.

You shuffled yourself back to your room getting into bed and turning on the tv as a way to mindlessly distract yourself until you actually had to do stuff.

A few hours past until it was 7am, and you decided you could at least go for a shower before your day at work. Working at a bar that opened at 9am wasn’t exactly high class living; especially when you had to deal with drunks so early in the day, so it definitely required more motivation than most jobs. You couldn’t do what you were originally good at, dance. And you’d decided you probably shouldn’t be doing what you were trained for. Killing people.

Turning on the shower to allow it to warm up, you rid yourself of your clothes, suddenly aware of how stiff your muscles were after another bad dream. Stepping in you let the water try and wash it away, and though it did help you knew it would only reappear tonight in another form of a nightmare. You closed your eyes sighing in content, and it did last for a brief moment until you heard banging on your front door.

At first you tried to ignore it, but it got louder and more aggravated and suddenly your heart had fell to your stomach, resorting to thinking of the worst that could be behind that door. Getting out you threw some clothes back on. You reached under your bed grabbing your shot gun, holding it close to yourself as you slowly walked towards the door that had started banging again. Times like this you wished you had a peep hole to look through.

You turned on your best poker face and opened the door abruptly to be more hostile. Only you were met with someone you didn’t know, though for some reason you felt you recognised. On the other side of the door stood a woman all in black, her hair was in a blonde bob and for a brief second you thought you saw a reaction flash across her face like she knew you too.

“Is this y/n?” she spoke firmly and with poise.

You raised an eyebrow, “Why?”

“Is it?” she returned her poker face staying on her face.

“Yes.” You huffed, the half-amused face falling from your face, returning back to the glare you constantly wore. “Who are you?”

She raised her hand for you to shake her face accompanying it with a small smile, which you hesitantly took.

“Nice to finally meet you y/n, I’ve been looking for you under Fury’s instruction for a while, my name’s Natasha.”

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: (let me know if you want to be tagged)

@maybe-a-marvel​ @thatredlipped-classic​ @flightsandfantasy​ @7minutes-tomidnight​ @rebelemilu​ 

[idkmanimhereforthegays]

Here it is! It’s really short. And probably bad. But it’s been like a year so that’s probably fine

It was a fairly normal day at the Naval Air Station Pensacola. As normal as any day in James’s overtly long life has ever been. Well, not even that’s entirely true, since he’s supposed to introduce the new recruits today. That was never  fun, telling people, newbies or not, that actually, Zombies are real and their new assignment revolves around them.

First one: Lt. Lucas Anderson. Fresh out of college with no real experience in the real world, but confined to paperwork until he manages to fight off his flight anxiety and be useful out in the field. The boy was smart for sure, he graduated from the USNA top of his class, but barely finished flight school, probably grew up with pressure judging from the high status‘s of his parents but also wealthy and an only child. In that way, Anderson reminded him of Toma, before he became what he is today. His file however didn’t say much more. Anderson is academically successful, nervous, uncoordinated, extroverted and well… new. But therefore also maybe a bit more easiest persuaded, James hoped.

He looks up at a soft knock on his door, putting away the papers he was passively working on and letting the other person in verbally. 

A lanky young (James guesses early twenties, but since he’s been 30 for 240 years now he wouldn’t bet money on it) man enters, visibly nervous and looking like he hasn’t slept more than an hour in the last week.  He looks slightly confused at the old-timely typewriter James till uses because Macs are confusing, but politely ignores it and clumsily salutes, obviously confused if James is a superior officer to him or not. He technically isn’t, but he appreciates the sentiment. The man would be answering to him anyway after all

„Ah, Lieutenant Anderson, I presume. Take a seat, please.“

James gestured to the chair in front of the desk he rarely uses. Really it was only there for appearances. He did most of his work at home, in peace, not in America

„Welcome to your new duty, Lieutenant. You have an impressive record at the USNA, but flight school was a bit challenging wasn’t it?“ 

James looked at Andersons papers as he said that, not because he really needed to, but because he needed something in his hands so he wouldn’t physically stop Anderson from jittering. How much caffeine did the man consume?

„I- yes sir. But I’m ready for anything!“

„Well you wont have to deal with jets much here. You’re part of the Navy‘s special department, the afterlife desk. We prefer Soul Service here though, just like dogfight special training or whatever they’re actually called prefers Top Gun. I’m James, here to guide you into and through all of this“ 

„Afterlife desk? By all respect sir but I thought I was assigned to aviation maintenance“ And there it was. Although, in Andersons defense, he was assigned to aviation maintenance, officially. He even would be doing some, probably. The boy was here to either get rid of his flight anxiety or get incorporated into the team

„You were. Partly. However, you wont be seeing many planes, mostly just a lot of paperwork.“ James took the template files from a stack of papers and handed it to Anderson 

„Here is the template you need, I can send it to you digitally later too, I know  all like that more nowadays. Your job is to fill these out. Do you know of the tradition of MIA soldiers being considered to be still on patrol?“

Anderson gave slight nod, obviously confused where this was going

„Well sometimes they do come back. Not too often, but often enough that you’re here. You just ask them these questions, fill their answers in and dismiss them. Call a clean up crew if necessary, you can imagine that they don’t always hold together that well. That’s it, the rest of the time we’ll find something for you to do. You got it?“

„Zombies, sir? Like, actual dead people?“ 

James could hear the disbelief in the younger‘s voice, but also could see how he  tried his best to not seem disrespectful 

„Undead, technically, but yes. Don’t let it distract you, your job is paperwork not exorcism. You think you can handle it or want me to go through it and? I can if you want, I have more than enough time“ 

He didn’t really, he still had three recruits to fill in, two of which have been in this military circus for sometime, but he liked the joke. He was immortal and older than this country. He did have a lot more time than most.

„No, no I think I got this. Where do I start?“

„That’s the spirit. I‘ll get you to your office.“ James said while standing up,

„Follow me please.“ 

Anderson hurried after him through the halls to his office, the closest to the coast. In the Navy, most undead tended to come from the ocean, even the ones that flew. 

James opened the door, motioning the other to go through.

„This is your new work space. Since nobody alive ever comes in here you can even decorate it a bit! Not too much though. Make sure you can get rid of it quickly. Everything you need is on your table. You even have a computer. And a pen if you want. No one ever does anymore. But if you do its there. I actually have something to do so I’ll leave you here, if you you need anything, write a mail!“ 

Before Anderson had the chance to react James closed the door in front of him and slipped into the shadows around the corner. 

Next stop: Pheonix, Army Base

guys guys I’m writing again this is so weird and cool and fuck I have barely written three paragraphs I would have written the entire chapter already probably but that doesn’t matter because I’m writing at all

[thewillowbends]

So I'm rewatching the first season and reading the book, and I've got Thoughts (TM)

And I've got a LOT of thoughts about what exactly Leigh Bardugo was doing here in terms of the moral and ethical statements of the narrative, so I'm putting it under the cut.

Something that's really glaring on the rewatch is just...the complete lack of compassion every character outside Aleksander has for the plight of the Grisha. The army treats treats them with reciprocal dislike, despite the fact that they couldn't even cross the Fold with the Inferni or Squallers. The tsar and tsarita treat them with condescension and disdain, clearly valuing them mainly as a utility that, historically, they've happily turned on when they felt they were growing too powerful. Baghra has just given up on trying to protect other Grisha who aren't immortal like her or Aleksander. Even Alina is guilty of othering them and has to be told off by multiple characters (Ivan, Aleksander, Baghra) to stop treating her power like a yoke instead of a responsibility and opportunity to help others.

We get this big, bad, armor-piercing line from her to Aleksander about how he doesn't care who suffers as long as he wins. Which is true to some extent, but...where is her compassion? Didn't we just spend a hefty portion of the narrative wanting to give her power away to somebody else so she can, what, be with her bestie? Meanwhile, there's, you know, an actual war going on. This isn't small stakes shit she sees going on around her. People are dying. We literally have an entire plot where we see a Grisha kidnapped, enslaved, and then sent to be put to death...who was given to the enemy by her own people!

And then we get that line from her in 1x07, only to have it followed up by her running away at the end of 1x08 for....why? Most people on the ship are dead or those that survived weren't his supporters. The people on the docks were killed, and most of them actually were traitors trying to kill Alina. Aleksander didn't lie about that. So she's running away to take the blame for some nebulous reason that's not really well explained, which is...well, what the fuck happens to the rest of the Grisha? Do we not care about how Aleksander's actions are going to reflect back on them and cause a potential backlash or something? Not to mention, nobody is on the other side to warn them that Aleksander is a threat to begin with. Even if you assumed he was dead, you'd definitely want to assume he likely had supporters back at the palace, too!

From a character writing perspective, I find it stupid that Aleksander doesn't tell her certain things because if he's such a big, bad, clever manipulator, he would absolutely be weaponizing his own pain and experiences to make her stumble in empathy. That's bad character writing to me when you're telling me somebody's an abusive villain but actually isn't using very real and effective abuser tactics. But then you also have Alina who refuses to even point out...Aleksander, I get it! I've talked to other Grisha! I see what you're going through! But this can't be the answer. You have to see this won't end well for you! Like, her own arguments make no sense to me. They're so myopic and self-involved.

One of the big things that bothers me that gets folded into Aleksander's other manipulations is this idea that he primarily associates and values her for her power, in contrast to Mal who primarily sees her for being herself. While I get the intent of that on a narrative level, in the scope of the wider story...it just literally makes no sense for Aleksander to parse those two as separate. Not when the whole reason Grisha are hunted down and killed is because they don't get the privilege of being people outside of their power. Aleksander doesn't get to be General Kirigan without also being the Darkling. Therefore, Alina doesn't get to be Sankta Alina without also being the Sun Summoner. Not a single other character gets to be relevant without being powerful.

Even on a narrative level, it makes no sense. One, it's frankly kind of sexist (when are male protagonists ever expected to be segregated from their power) and two...that's the whole reason we're telling her story! That's why she's the protagonist! She is special. She can't be separated from this unique power destiny has handed her. We don't tell stories about common, boring people; we tell stories about people who incite conflict or change. So even the mere concept to me of basing a character's identity or value around not wanting value is frankly kind of ridiculous.

There's just this strangely insidious underpinning to the story that power is inherently dangerous, even as it acknowledges that people who are NOT in power can very much suffer at the hands of those who do. So where's the moral and ethical reflection about what this means for the rest of us? What does that mean for minorities?

Think of the scene on the boat where Aleksander has Ivan kill off the nobility. The narrative wants you to see this moment as blackly humorous and awful, but stop for a moment and think about what happened there from his perspective. This is a man who spent centuries watching his people get killed and enslaved, and that isn't a false representation or manipulation from him, either. His statement is backed up both by what we see in the flashbacks and by other Grisha. Nobody created a safe haven for him and his people - he did that! He had to claw his way to the top, flatter, kill, and fuck his way through god knows how many noble houses, just to get to this moment where he could build a Little Palace. And it took him four hundred years just to get that! All while Grisha are dying!

And nobody did anything about it. Not the king, not the landholders, not even the peasantry. They were happy taking advantage of the Grisha's powers, of course, when Aleksander helped raise them up into a position of prominence, making them soldiers and enchanters. And even then, they're mocked! The army can't wait to get rid of them!

And then some noblewoman, who has enjoyed the benefits of her wealth and power, some of which were built on the backs of your people, sits there and tells you, the moment you take hold of the power everybody else has been grabbing for centuries, has the audacity to sit there and tell you that the world will hate Grisha and view him as a heretic?? When less than twenty years ago, your people were being killed right and left? When the enemy is still kidnapping and enslaving your people? When your own countrymen view you with fear and intrigue already? The audacity to sit there and frame it as a hypothetical when it's very much an actual reality still going on. Just look at the barely hidden seething rage and contempt on Barnes face when he delivers that quip about "needing to do that speech again." Motherfucker has been waiting YEARS for this moment, this revenge. And really, who can blame him...if you aren't wrapped up in the narrative wanting you to focus on just what he's doing to poor Alina.

The way the Grisha's situation is framed along with how the Darkling's descent into villainy is handled is so just incongruent to me. The pieces don't fit. You're asking me to see this man as completely irredeemable after you just showed me six episodes of Grisha being killed both for being what they are in the hopes of protecting Alina, after you showed me that Aleksander had already TRIED appealing to the protection of the crown by lending it his power, after making us see that lies and manipulation are the only way he and his mother have been able to survive as long as they have in a world that eradicated them. Where is the compassion in the narrative for that?

And okay, fine, you can do an irredeemable villain. You can do a Kilmonger-esque story with the Darkling, but that requires forcing your protagonists to empathize with the villain and change from it. But then I read ahead and...that doesn't happen?? She winds up walking away from it all at the end?? In fact, she even loses her power. And that's supposed to be a HAPPY ending? After we just saw how badly this minority was treated for how many centuries??

You know what it feels like? It feels like Leigh Bardugo read The Hunger Games, tried to replicate a Katniss, and then completely failed to understand the profound situational differences between her protagonist and that one. Katniss is a girl made extraordinary by her circumstances. She's not special herself other than the fact that she did the right thing at the right place at the right time and helped create the tipping point for a revolution that was already in the works before her. Katniss walking away from the world after makes sense because she's burned out after the war, but it also got its use from her. She helped make the revolution work; she showed up for the event while it was happening and did what she could. The situation was out of her control and power for the most part, and she still managed to rise the occasion.

Alina is NOT Katniss. She is inherently special. She is inherently powerful. She has the ability to create change and bring a new perspective that Aleksander has long given up on and which her country desperately needs. We know the world of the Hunger Games will be better because the creators of real change were always working behind the scenes behind Katniss. She was just their propaganda, their symbol. Alina is a symbol, but she is also a very real power. It's not an act of moral celebration for her to walk away from power at the end, namely because there's a whole minority class of people we still have to worry about. Putting a Grisha on the throne is no promise the country won't turn against them eventually, nor does that protect the hundreds of Grisha at the mercy of a superstitious peasantry and countries that will likely continue to invade them.

It's just...I dunno guys. It's frustrating because all the compelling elements are there in the characters and storyline, but it's like the author had a set of characters telling one story and then she had an entirely different plot in mind, and they just clash all over the place for me and become thematically inconsistent. But what really gets me is that she had seven years to think this shit over...and we're looking to get the same story all over again. Usually, it's a great thing to have an author involved in the show. This is a rare situation where I wonder if it hurts the chances of it improving.

[omegasamwilson]

I literally had a panic attack when I watched Ayo take off Bucky's arm. I was born without my left arm and see a lot of myself in Bucky. I have a prosthetic and had to stop the episode and watch it later. And it really hurt me to see your completely disregard that and say I have no right to be upset. It really pisses me off. I'm fully acknowledging that Bucky did a terrible thing, and he needed to be stopped. But she didn't have to remove his arm. He wouldn't have hurt her. To see you refer to his arm in the tags as a weapon further hurt me. It's not a fucking weapon, it's his fucking arm. You're trying to twist this into a race issue when it's about fucking ableism. I'm brown not black so I don't know if you'll accept my concerns with your post

Hi, one, I apologize for what is sure to be a very long and very frustrated statement. But I’m dealing with a lot of shit rn (actually related to race and ableism specifically) but I wanted to respond because my ADHD ass will forget otherwise.

Okay. One, you say “he wouldn’t have hurt her.”

We, the audience, knows that. Ayo did not. What she knows is that the man before her was an assassin and sniper, even before he was captured and forced to kill by HYDRA. He was a WWII sniper and seemed to be quite skilled (I’m going to assume that’s one of the reasons HYDRA tried to experiment on him and picked him to he the winter soldier.) In any case, this newly reformed (and at the time, just barely reformed. As in, he was healed a month, maybe two months before the events of infinity war. So he’s been healed for a whopping seven months.) This newly reformed assassin, who had been the victim of either chemical or otherwise mental subjugation freed a terrorist from prison.

Not only did he free a terrorist from prison, he freed a terrorist that was obsessed with HYDRA. If any terrorist knew a back door to unlock the winter soldier again, it would be Baron Zemo, who knew each and every one of HYDRA’s secrets.

While Shuri is definitely brilliant, it’s entirely possible that HYDRA buried a safety within their “asset” just in case he was able to break his programming. It’s entirely possible that it was so well buried amongst the labyrinth that is the brain that even Shuri couldn’t find it. After all, Shuri isn’t a neuroscientist, and the brain is largely regarded as the final frontier. So it’s entirely possible that she missed buried programming.

So, we have a person that got rid of HYDRA’s programming seven months ago that just freed one of the only people on the planet that could have the information that could potentially reactivate the winter soldier. And THEN, we have a video of this man “acting” as the winter soldier in madripoor. This was uploaded on the internet and I’m assuming that Ayo saw it.

What proof does Ayo have that he won’t hurt her? That she won’t weaponize his arm and hurt her? What proof does she have that he’s not under Zemo’s control, that Zemo can’t control him in a second. The only thing she knows are that Bucky Barnes freed a terrorist that had access to all of HYDRA’s information, the terrorist appeared to control the winter soldier in madripoor, and it is entirely possible that there is buried programming designed to deactivate the winter soldier.

She deactivates it, realizes he’s fully in control of himself and says, “bast damn you, James.” As in, “fuck you for freeing a terrorist and acting like it isn’t a big deal. You are clearly acting on your own accord in this.”

And yes, it’s different being Black vs. being Brown. It isn’t to say that racism and ableism don’t intersect with Brown folks because obviously it does.

But l specifically asked for Black opinions bc of the demonization of Black folks, especially the trope of “big scary Black women” or “big scary Black men.”

It’s ironic I see this today when I have a story that is so relevant and anger inducing.

I work with white parents of Black children, usually through adoption since I work primarily with lgbt parents, but I do have some cis het white parents raising Black biological kids. One of the parents and friends got into it today because her autistic Black child got into it with their sibling (also disabled). The sibling intentionally triggered their older sibling and punched them and it escalated to the point where the bigger sibling finally reacted and shoved the younger sibling. It broke the younger kid’s glasses. The youngest is legally blind and needs very expensive and specific prescription classes to even have 20/40 vision.

The mom called the police on her child and the kid was arrested and charged. She is 15. Mom described the kid as aggressive and awful and terrible and all sorts of names. A ww called the police on her Black 15 year old child having a meltdown. And she played into stereotypes that Black people, Black women, are aggressive/scary/angry. A ww could’ve gotten her child killed for having a meltdown because she broke a white child’s disability aid.)

A ww couldve gotten her child killed because she played into anti-Black stereotypes. That white people need protection from them. Even when the white child was initially the aggressor in the scenario.

Sure, it’s different, but it plays to the same stereotypes. Poor white disabled person needs protection from the aggressive scary Black person, and we’re just going to assume that the Black person was being unnecessarily aggressive because it plays into all of the stereotypes about Black people. No, there’s no way that this Black person was making a decision based on a series of evidence that could point to them genuinely being harmed.

(By the way, in the scenario of the two kids, I think they both needed help and support, and that the police shouldn’t have been called period.)

Nope, it’s just an aggressive Black person being ableist.

The same systems that have everyone seeing Bucky as a cute little uwu cinnamon roll in need of protection are what caused everyone to see Ayo as an aggressive ableist Black woman. White people usually get the benefit of the doubt. The best intentions are believed even when the evidence clearly says otherwise.

The evidence Ayo had indicated that she had no idea whether the winter soldier could’ve been reactivated and whether or not Bucky could’ve been under zemo’s control. She had no idea. None. She made a decision based off that information. And the fact that Bucky didn’t react strongly indicated that he was acting on his own accord.

Mayhaps, Ayo might even have been trying to trigger the winter soldier. I just thought of this but it makes sense. That the WS would react very defensively and even potentially deadly to that level of fighting, even if his previous orders were different.

In any case, this situation isn’t comparable to every day disabled people because our disability aids to not double as weapons. Most people can’t do more harm with a prosthetic limb than they can with a regular limb. Bucky can. Bucky’s arm is also a weapon and that fact complicates matters considerably. If bucky’s arm were simply a regular arm with typical strength, it’d be a no brainer situation. But it’s not. We don’t know the wakanda enhancements of his arms, but we know in the comics, he could kill with a single punch using his arm. He uses his arm tactically to map his surroundings. He uses his arm to send off EMPs that can disabled weaponry. It even has a retractable blade for close combat. It is a disability aid that it also a weapon. It was designed to be a weapon. The normal conversations around disability aids don’t fit it because no one today has a disability aid that could kill someone in seconds and even cause larger scale damage with a targeted EMP.

And finally, I want to say this, I am truly sorry that you had a panic attack while watching the episode. That is never fair and it’s never fun to be triggered by television shows.

I do hope this helped to better explain and clarify my perspective.

[honey-milk-depresso]

Meanie (Azul Ashengrotto x Reader) (2)

Die with me please I need serious help-

My drafts are scaring me-

But ehhh, hope you enjoy!

Part 1, 

Part 2 

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8 (END)

“Hey! Rise and shine Mr Octopus!”

He groaned in annoyance and tiredness. 

“Go away...”

“Hey! You said to come to your room when I wake up!”

“Later..”

“Come on!!”

Azul isn’t an early bird when it comes to the weekend. You knew that, but he promised you.

“Okay fine, listen. Once you wake up, go to Ramshackle with me. I got headmaster’s permission to go explore other shops Twisted Wonderland has! And I’m not talking about Sam’s Shop. I’m talking about huge stores and many market places and stuff-!”

“Okay, okay I will. I’ll be there at 9. It’s 7 in the morning, y/n, not now. Geez..” he grumbled.

“Alright, alright. I’ll leave you be. But don’t keep me waiting~”

And you went out.

=============================================================

“Are you ready?”

“Yes I am.”

You and Azul were in casual clothing as you prepared to go into the mirror.

“You two remember to contact me, I’ll bring you back!”

“Thanks, Headmaster!”

Taking Azul’s hand to which he blush slightly at the sudden contact, you made a running start as you jumped into the portal with him.

“Slow down!”

“Okay, okay!”

You stared in awe. This looked like a real town.

Cobblestone pavements, many boutique shops ranging from bakeries to shoes to blacksmiths. Rose bushes and trees along the road together with the street lamps. Cottages and houses of all different sizes, the town brought about a tranquil presence.

“Woah..”

“Hm. So he brought us the Rose Kingdom.”

“Wait! Rose Kingdom?!”

You took his hand again and started trudging to the stores.

“Hey! What are you-!”

“Let’s find Trey’s family bakery, and other things to buy, too!”

“You’re lucky I brought my wallet...”

“Don’t worry, I’m paying!”

He jerked to a stop, which halted you too.

“Wha-”

“Didn’t you spend on going to the VIP room yesterday?”

“Yeah, and I did pay right?”

“You have enough money left?”

“Well, I mean, enou-”

“Forget it I’ll pay.”

“Wahhhh! Hey, Azul! You don’t have to pay! It’ll make me feel bad!”

“Feel bad then.”

“Meanie!”

He sighed.

“Don’t waste your money, y/n.”

You sighed in defeat. “Alright, alright..”

You walked around the wide variety of stores.

“Ooh! Azul, look!”

He turned around to face you as he walked over to you, your eyes glued to the window of a store.

“Look! Isn’t that pendent pretty?”

There lied a pendent with only one of its bead, the center of attention, a white pearl carved into a spiral shell, a small diamond placed in the very middle of it. It gleamed under the light.

“Yeah, it is.”

“Ooh, how much is it??”

You looked down to see the price label.

“Irk?!- $200?!?!”

You sweat dropped and sulked. Of course something so pretty would be expensive. 

“Never mind... let’s find something else..”

Azul glanced at you and looked back at the pendent.

“Alright.”

=============================================================

“Wah! Trey’s family is so nice!”

Finally found the bakery, “Clovers’ Bakery”.

His mother knew who you are since being friends with him, Trey talking about you over the phone with his mother. His entire family welcomed you and gave you and Azul a free drink of your choice. You got hot cocoa, while Azul got a hot cup of coffee.

“This coffee’s not bad.”

“I mean, Trey is a good cook on his own. What makes you think his family can’t do better?”

“Not necessarily.”

“Hmmmm. Anyways~”

You gulped down you drink and ate the last piece of your sandwich. 

“You ready to leave?”

Azul sipped his coffee. “Yep.”

“Alright! Bye Mrs and Mr Clover! Take care all of you!”

Azul stared at your huge cheerful grin as you waved goodbye to the Clovers.

Wonder how you’ll react to see his own family.

=============================================================

“Oh my shit, Azul. Look.”

Azul turned around to see a booth stand, children throwing rings, hoping to get them into the bottles.

“ $2 for 10 rings?? To win an octopus plushie??? That’s like 10 times more than that pendent.”

“100 times.”

“I’m lazy to math, it’s the frickin’ weekend.”

“It’s basic math, y/n.”

“Come on let’s go!”

You dragged him to the booth as the vendor smiled at you both.

“Hmm? Oh my! What a cute couple I see here!”

You and Azul blushed in embarrassment. “Oh, we’re just friends!”

The vendor sighed. “Aw. You’d two would be great together though. Ah well. 10 tries?”

“Yep!”

Azul paid the vendor as she passed him the rings. “Good luck!”

Tossing and tossing, you landed at least 4 rings. But... you only had one left.

“Hmmm I’m scared... One more ring in the get the plushie, but if I didn’t..”

“Don’t stress it, y/n. 10 rings for $2, remember. I can pay for another round.”

“Didn’t you always say never waste a cent.”

That’s true, he’s always been cost conscious, but....

“I won’t charge you or ask you to pay me back, okay?”

“Hmmm, alright! But eh, I don’t want to waste my luck here. And I don’t want to restart so....” you passed him the ring. “I put my faith in you soldier,” while playfully saluting. 

“Oh shush. And you don’t have to rely on luck.”

Azul closed one eye, concentrating. You held your breath as he planned.

Finally, after some meticulous calculation and planning he threw the ring.

It landed.

“YES, AZUL YOU DID IT!”

“DON’T HUG ME LIKE WE WON SOME MARATHON!”

“BUT WE DID!”

=====================================================

“Hey, y/n, give me a moment, I want to get something from a store I saw was interesting.”

“Alright! I’ll wait for you here!”

He got up from the bench he was sitting, leaving you alone.

You looked up to the sky as you licked your ice cream he bought for you in one hand, and another to clutch your octopus plushie.

Honestly, it felt kind of embarrassing to be spoiled by your best friend. Well, at least you thought he was your best friend, you hoped he felt the same way too.

You also felt a bit guilty he’s spending money on you and all you do is drag him to other places. But... you wanted to spend the most amount of time with him and all your other friends as... well... you were going to die. 

With a severe Huntington’s disease, you couldn’t think straight. The doctors in your world and twisted wonderland had been doing their very best to make sure they could manage your condition. You’re afraid that in two weeks time, you wouldn’t be able to walk, because you would forget how to.

 You were scared to tell your friends, especially Azul. You wanted to, but deep down you felt like death would really do each others friendship apart. You couldn’t tell him directly that you have problems remembering and doing simple math sums worse than Deuce.

You hated your incurable disease, but you learn to live with it and find joy in every thing in life the best you could.

The staff of NRC knew this, excusing you from gym classes, giving you extra help on homework, exempting you from examinations. You honestly felt like an oddball most of the time and just wanted to live a normal school life.

You stared at your plushie. What if you forget how to feel too? You don’t want to lose your romantic feelings towards the octopus.

“Y/n.”

“Hmm? Oh Azul!”

“Here .”

He handed you a box and opened it. You gasped.

It was the same pendent you saw early in the morning.

“I- Azul, you didn’t have to buy it!!!”

“Well, I’d be seeing you sulking all the time, would I? And I’ll look like a terrible friend.”

You rolled your eyes and smile.

“Whatever. Thanks a lot though!”

He smiled. 

“Your welcome.”

For now, you wanted to cherish the moments you spent with him.

===================================================

Part 3 anyone???

Or just me trying to get rid of many drafts as possible-

[wolfish-trickster]

Young Oak Sapling

Part 2 to this (I seriously need to stop writing accidental multichapter fics...)

Loki x female!reader

Word count: 1,7K

Warnings: typos (as always), angst, fluff (it's there, I promise!)

Tag list: @gaitwae @lucywrites02 @hard-to-be-the-bard @birdgirl90 @laramoonworld @forevernthensome @kozkaboi

A/N: this is really messy, i'm sorry

'You have always been like a little sister I always wanted. I'm so sorry, we can still be friends'

For some unknown reason he kept having dreams about that one evening. 'Dreams,' he would scoff, 'more like nightmares.' They always end horribly. Either with you never talking to him again out of shame or him delivering those lines not so gently.

Loki couldn't understand why he kept dreaming about it. About her. How the light in her eyes slowly died when he told her. He told her the truth, right? It was the right thing to do, right?

*

She was hanging out with that soldier again. Loki's mouth twisted into disgusted grimace when he spot how he put his arm around her shoulders, how she held the single dandelion he gave her. A dandelion? Please, he couldn't really fall that low to give a lady some common weed, could he? A lady with such charm and class like Y/N deserves a dozen roses for every day she blessed this world with her smile and laugh.

Loki's eyes widened. Why was he thinking of her like that so suddenly? He never thought of her like that before. No. She's just a friend. Like his little sister. That's what he told her. She believed him. Now he has to believe it himself.

*

Sudden rain drove Loki away from his new favourite sitting spot in the corner of the garden. The oak stump. If only he kept a part of the tree. A twig or a leaf. He would've carried it around like a talisman. Or acorn, so he could grow another oak, even though it wouldn't be the same one.

His mind was on autopilot, he didn't even realize his legs carried him to your bedroom door. He stood there like a statue. Listening for any sounds. For any voices. He heard nothing. You must be somewhere else. That realization made him even more anxious. You could be with that soldier again. He can't have that.

He walked to only place he could always find you: library. As he wanted to open the heavy door you ran into him, colliding into his chest.

"Sorry-" your relax expression changed when you looked up into his eyes

"Hi," he smiled softly.

"Hello," you greeted, but without a smile. You tried to walk by him when he stopped you with his hand on your shoulder.

"Why are you running away from me?"

"I'm not. It's just.... this," you gestured between him and you, "it's awkward."

"Oh, so you avoid me, your oldest friend, and spend your entire day with Hofferson then," Loki crossed his arms on his chest.

"Aren't you supposed to be on a date or something?" you pushed yourself pass him, poison in your voice.

"Aren't you supposed to spend some time with me too?"

"I can't Loki. I'm trying to get rid of all of my feelings for you! I can't be near you if I want it to work!" you nearly screamed in his face.

Those words hurt Loki more than he thought. "Getting rid of ALL feelings? So you're trying to hate me then."

"No! Understand that I can't be friends with someone I love!"

"Platonic love exists too, you know," Loki remarked.

You rolled your eyes. "Whatever. I don't want to argue with you anymore, I'm going."

"Where?" he asked as you escaped him.

"To someone that cares about me, and not just platonicly!" you shouted behind your back and ran.

*

He hasn't had a word or a single alone time with you since then. You were always near that soldier, always talking to him, hugging him, hanging on his arm all the time.

Loki felt nausea whenever he saw Y/N with anyone but him. He wasn't used to seeing Y/N with other men, she was always near him. He missed her. Her laugh, her smile, her hugs. Everything.

No matter how many girls or boys he came across on streets, none of them could ever take your place. None of them smiled as brightly or as truly as you always did. Even when he was telling you about anyone he was interested in, you still smiled and wished him well with the person. You wanted him to be happy, even if it hurt you.

So why can't he do the same? Be happy you're with someone who will love you? Instead he grits his teeth whenever he sees the two of you together. Why does he want you all to himself? Why the thought of you being with someone else makes him throw up?

Loki sighed and held his head in his hands. It is true what they say. You'll realize you love somebody only after you lose them.

*

He felt like a coward. Standing in front of your bedroom door, with heart anxiously pounding in his chest.

Loki took a deep breath and knocked. No one answered. You must be out again. With him.

He shook the thought away and opened the door. If anything, he'll at least be able to give you a message without having to look into your eyes. While he was looking for a piece of paper and a pen around your room he noticed a new pot on your windowsill. It was brown and smaller than the rest with a single tiny green sprout sticking from the dirt.

Loki took the pot in his hand, it was small enough to fit into his palm. He smiled. It was so tiny and fragile. He wondered what kind of plant it was.

Before he could use one of the runes to find out a door creaked open behind him. "What are you doing here?" you asked. He was so startled by you catching him he couldn't even deduce if you were angry or surprised to see him.

"I-I wanted to talk to you," he turned towards you.

You looked at his hand. "Why are you holding it? Put it back, you might break it!" before he could even move you rushed to him, took the pot from his hand and held it close to your chest. Could one be jealous when a plant gets a cuddle but her oldest friend doesn't? Apparently Loki could.

"What do you want to talk about? If it's some noble lady I don't want to hear it," you turned your head away from him.

Loki shook his head. "No, it's not a lady."

"Some son of a sailor then?"

"No, I came here to tell you something."

You turned your head back to him. "And what is that?"

Loki took a deep breath. It's now or never. "I came to a realization. And not just a common one. I didn't think my life could be so lonely without you in it. Every single day I've missed you, longed to spend time with you again. Laugh with you. It pained me to see that Hofferson boy with you. Ever since I saw the two of you in the stables I wanted to rip you away from him. Just like I every boy you got close to in our childhood. For a long time I couldn't understand why I wanted you all to myself and no other man. But now I do. It's because I love you. Romantically. Just like you love me," he didn't look away from you. He didn't dare.

You shook your head in disapointment. "You're so selfish, Loki."

He didn't expect that answer. It was far away from anything he was expecting. All blood left his face. "Well, that's what love makes out of person. It makes them selfish, possesive."

"So how come I could let you go after your monthly interests without complaining like you did?"

Loki froze. "Y-you're apparently a better person than me," he picked on his palm.

You hummed. "So...what now?"

Loki took your lack of emotions as a rejection. He concluded he traded places with you. Now you were the one without romantic feelings and he was the one being rejected.

He couldn't keep looking at the love of his life rejecting him. He studied the pot in her hamds instead. "Now? I guess I will have to find a spell to erase all romantic feelings I have for you and wish you all the best with Hoffer-I mean Arne," he thanked all heavens above for his training that didn't let him fall apart in front of you.

You looked at him, fear in your eyes." Why would you do that?"

Loki laughed. It was a bitter one, filled with sadness. "Because you don't love me anymore."

"That's not true," you whispered.

Loki's head snapped up. "What?"

"I-I said that's not true. I never stopped, no matter how much I tried. I even saved a little part of our tree," you said softly and caressed the little sprout.

"That's from the old oak?"

You nodded. "For some reason I couldn't just cut it down and erase its whole existence."

Now Loki knows what it means when a stone falls from someone's heart. "So, that means you still love me?" he asked hopefully.

You nodded. "And you love me too?"

"Of course my love. Can we please start over again?"

"I would love to," you blessed him with your kindest, purest smile.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked a little too excited.

"No," his heart fell to the floor, "you have to kiss me."

Loki sighed from relief. He walked over to you and cupped your cheeks. From up close your eyes were even more beautiful than he noticed the first time he kissed you. He reminded himself to tell you everyday from now on.

And just like that, the history repeated itself. Loki gently placed his lips on yours in a loving kiss. Your head spinned once again just like so many years ago. And one oak tree witnessed it all.

[vinciwolf]

Bruised but Not Broken

Pairing: Cody x fem!medic!Reader

Warnings: 18+, light smut, angst, violence, blood, gore, death, alcohol, depression

Tags: @sunburstcody​ I wrote this for you.

           You’re on the battlefield of war again. Covering your mouth with a gloved hand, your lungs forcibly expel the thick smoke. Blaster bolts whizz past your head as you crouch behind a fallen AT-RT walker. The clone trooper slumped against the machine groans in agony, head flopping to the side, as you try to ease his pain with a numbing injection.

           With a steady, confident voice, you say, “You’ll be alright.”

           But deep down, you tremble. Please, not another one, not another one.

           You didn’t want another trooper to die. He was just a goddamn shiny! You wave down a passing clone trooper for help. Both of you take the wrists of the fallen clone and drag him behind the thick vegetation where the rest of the wounded were placed.

           You take off the trooper’s helmet to assess his wounds. The damage is severe, like most wounds you have already become desensitized to. His neck looks like an unraveled mess of shredded muscle and tissue, jagged and pointing in unnatural directions. The blaster bolt that clipped him left his neck looking life a half-spere, bleeding profusely. While tossing backwards the flap to your medical bag, the absence of supplies cruelly laughs at your surprised face and sends a cold wave of dread over your skin. The entire bag is empty.

           Trying not to make it obvious to the soldier, you advert your gaze and swallow the hard clump in the back of your throat. This clone trooper is doomed and there is nothing your can do about it. Rationally, you decide to return to the battlefield to save other potential survivors. No time to waste on the already dead. Before you can run back into the fray, the clone trooper clasps your wrist. You pause for a second, then kneel back down and grip the clone trooper’s hand tightly. Tears burn the back of your eyes.

           “I—I don’t want to die,” he gurgles. “I don’t want to be forgotten.”

           His face is a carbon copy of Jango Fett, but he has an intricate rose tattoo that stretches from his brow, over the side of his head, and down behind his ear. You also note his eyes to be a very rich earthy color, like when the soil is dark and saturated with water after a hard rain. But his beauty is short lived when ground-shaking explosions and echoing shouts from the other clone troopers sucks you back into reality. The clone’s eyes turn red and begin to wiggle with heavy tears.

           Deep down, the terrible pit in your stomach wants to lurch forward and trade your life with this clone. So, at least, he could experience life without fear, or missions, or being taught that he’s disposable in the grand scheme of this war he never asked for.

           “I won’t let you be forgotten—” your thumb brushes the tears falling form his eyes.

           Despite his pain, he weakly smiles at the thought that someone – somehow in his pathetically short lifespan – actually cares for him, then he shut his eyes forever.

           A single tear, heavy with thousands of memories like this one, burns the side on your cheek until in finally drops off your chin and absorbs into the blood soaked ground.

           You didn’t even get his CT number… not even his nickname.

           Blinking once, you bury these feelings into a deep place for another time. For now, you need to focus.

~

           You remembered the look Cody gave you when your battalion returned to the shuttle. The standard white attire you wore is stained with blood and soot. He is truly a sight for sore eyes. Halfheartedly grinning, shoulders slumping in relief, you are happy he survived. The thought of another innocent becoming a casualty of war turns your stomach. Luckily, the few clone troopers who managed to survive are either put into medical capsules or hobble into the arms of their fellow brothers. You shuffle towards the commander and plop your head on his shoulder. He squeezes you in his arms then helps you into the LAAT. This planet was devastating, but it was won. You should feel good, but all you feel is painful exhaustion in your shaky legs and feeble lungs. Not to mention the invisible weight creeping onto your shoulders.

           It is like this every time, all over again… and again… and again.

           Guilt fills your aching heart like an overstuffed balloon. It is like clockwork. This stabbing pang in your chest rises intensely and fades after every mission. You rub the unseen soreness with your palm as the refresher gushes hot water over your squatted, naked body, the steam cleansing your lungs. It is not enough to cure the pain however, but you need to rid your physical self of all the grime – all the evidence – of the soldiers you could not save today. The dense mist shields your vulnerable form and the heavy pattering of the water drowns out your whimpers as you cry away the horrible events that plague your mind.

           This… this small, private space in the refresher… had to be enough.

           It is your only fortunate curtesy in these dark times.

~

           Your first mission was on Kashyyyk and you were absolutely mesmerized by how densely forested one planet could be. Given that the temperature here was nothing like what you experienced at home, by the time your squad rendezvoused at the main base, your cloths had already become drenched with sweat. Taking a swipe to your forehead with the back of your hand, you began to understand why none of the other medic graduates willingly chose this planet. The only graduate on the list was you.

           The commander glances at you.

           “So, now the Republic is sending anybody these days. Pathetic,” he scoffs, probably eyeing you up and down under his helmet.

           “I wanted clone medics, not greenhorns who’ll shit their pants the moment they land on the battlefield.”

           Taking a step forward, Shots, the head medic, points at the commander.

           “Oi! Watch it. She finished at the top her class at the academy and is one of my best trainees I’ve had on the field. She might not be a clone, but I’d entrust her with my life. Plus, the Republic needs all the help it can get.”

           The commander dismissively waves at the both of you while turning on his heel and mumbling an agitated ‘whatever’ under his breath. Letting out a deep sigh and closing your eyes, you unclench your fists that you didn’t realize had formed during this rude confrontation. Shots turns towards you and pats his hand on your shoulder.

           “Don’t be intimidated by these guys—” he points over his shoulder at the clone troopers with his thumb “—war does this to us clones sometimes. Makes us hard inside—” his fist thumps twice over his heart.

~

           “Okay, when all hell breaks loose, just stay hot on my tail,” Shots whispers into your ear while your squad slowly proceeds through the thick vegetation. This was it. You first time on a real battlefront against the Separatists.

           Keeping your eyes ahead, your mind did not process the sudden explosion of brain matter that splattered on your face. You look to the side, towards its origin. Shots, the clone medic who had been your mentor since day one, the clone medic who never doubted your medical training, is flat on his back on the ground. The brain matter came from him. Shots’ face, a face you had conversed with just seconds ago, is now perfectly hollowed out by a blaster bolt. You crouch down and stare at the dead clone medic, hands shaking profoundly.

           He is not dead. This is not real. No way!

           No amount of medical training could prepare your for losing a loved one.

           Screaming grounds your focus. The blasters firing, the yelling, the smoke entering your lungs, the whole world rapidly woke up in your ears and everything is very loud again.

           “Where the kriffin’ hell are these blasts coming from?” a clone trooper hollers while shooting into the forest, his brothers scrambling to find shelter behind the trees.

           “It’s an ambush!”

           “We need a medic!”

           You run towards the clone troopers ducked behind a fallen log. Immediately, your adrenaline kicks in and you remember where you are, what you need to do. Pulling out supplies, you patch up their fallen comrade, but when everything seems to be smoothing out, a trooper bellows, “GET DOWN!”

           You look up and spot the missile flying right towards your face.

~

           You jolt awake with a startled gasp. Gulping down air, you realize that you are in your barracks. Safe…safe…for now. Looking down, you sigh at the state of your shirt. A dark stain in the fabric trails down your chest, sticking to your damp skin. You stand up and change into a clean shirt before heading over to the sink.

           After splashing your face with some cold water, you peer at yourself in the mirror. Exhaustion looks back at you. The purple bags under your eyes only seem to become worse as this war drags on. Nothing can make this night worse. As if on cue, the rapping at your door frightens you out of your thoughts.

           Stepping over to your room door, you click a button and it hisses open. You wipe your face with your hand, massaging the soreness out of your puffy eyes, and sigh a soft ‘what’ at the commander standing in front of you.

           “You’re needed in the med bay,” Cody states.

           Grunting in response, you turn around and begin to put on your uniform in silence. The commander steps into your room, rubbing the back of his neck.

           “I’m worried about you. You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

           You face Cody while aggressively putting your hair into a quick, messy bun.

           “Did Kenobi put you up to this? Now he’s sending his commander to spy on a poor ‘lil, sleep deprived medic, huh?” you spit while adjusting your boots too tightly.

           Cody does not respond and a twinge of guilt shoots through your stomach. Looking over to the commander, he is gripping his helmet a little too firmly and his eyes are adverted… deeply hurt.

           “Oh, Cody… I didn’t mean that…” you confess, shoulders sagging.

           Standing up, you cup Cody’s cheek and lift his chin to look at you— “It’s just… I don’t know actually…” I’m actually tired of burying myself beneath all this death.

           “You haven’t been yourself.” He overlaps your hand with his large one, eyes softening.

           “None of us have—” you let go of his cheek and wrap your arms around his armored torso, nudging your head close to his heart with a long exhale “—I’m sorry that I snapped.”

           Cody’s free hand rubs slowly down your back as he pecks your forehead. Releasing each other, you gaze up at the commander and force a tiny grin.

           Cody’s eyes sag downwards. “I… don’t know what to say.” I don’t know how to make things better for us.

           “There’s nothing you can say.” I want to tell you that everything hurts.

           As you veer around his presence, you pat his armored shoulder before disappearing into the corridor of the attack cruiser. Your heart screams for Cody to stop you from walking away. It feels like magnets pulling you back into that room, tugging your body to turn around and go back to explain everything. Inside your mind, however, you are blank of thought and ignore your instincts. The only thing filling the void is the agonizing screams and last words from the clone troopers you couldn’t save.

~

           THE WAR IS OVER!

           GRIEVOUS DEAD!

           CHANCELLOR ARRESTED FOR TREASON!

           Coruscant is in the midst of wild and loud celebration. At 79’s, the clone troopers drink and sing until they fall over, but Cody merely sits and stares at his untouched shot of alcohol in a private corner. Somewhere in the background commotion, Rex dances on a tabletop with two twi’lek, which makes the crowd of clones howl even louder. The floor screeches when the commander abruptly pushes his chair back to leave the bar. Nobody seems to notice his absence in all the partying.

           Outside, confetti falls from the sky while rockets pop and squeal into the air, lighting up the night. Cody walks alone and passes the multitude of citizens embracing each other. None are the wiser about the commander walking by them – a soldier who helped end the war – as he navigates through the streets of Coruscant. He doesn’t mind though because there is only one person on Cody’s mind that he wants to see.

~

           Standing in front of your apartment door, Cody hesitates for a moment before finally unlocking it and treading inside. He places his helmet on the kitchen counter and looks around. So many memories reside in this small place. Your couch still remains were it was the last time he visited your home. That couch where he kissed you for the first time and decided that this is the only person he wants for the rest of his life. Shaking his head with a fond smile, he continues his investigation.

           Sliding open the door to your bedroom, the commander expects the worst when his eyes glance towards an empty bottle of wine abandoned on the floor. He scans the room and finds shattered pieces of glass littering the carpet, a red dot staining the nearby wall. The commander assumes that you must have obliterated the wine glass in your fit of drunken rage. Holding his breath, Cody’s eyes widen at the dried-up specks of blood accompanying the mess. He finally takes a step past the bedroom threshold and notices the outline of your body beneath the mattress covers.

           Your body becomes larger as Cody slowly advances closer to the bed, boots dodging the sharp pieces of glass. He notices your arm, hand wrapped in gauze, poking out of the mountain of blankets. His fingers gently brush your wrist. Sighing with relief, the commander relaxes from the light thump of your pulse against his fingers. You groan in sleepy annoyance from his cold touch and retreat your arm into the safety under your huddled-up covers. Cody grins slightly in amusement. Pulling up a chair next to your bed, he tenderly shakes your shoulder to waken you.

           Slowly but surely, you peel your heavy eyelids open with a throaty groan then glance up at the commander sitting close beside your bed. You say nothing and just await the reason why he is in your room on this particular night. Cody closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before finally breaking the stillness.

           “The war’s over. I thought I’d find you with the rest of the boys celebrating, but you never showed.”

           Looking at your damaged hand, you remark, “I was… busy.”

           “If there’s anything on your chest, you can tell me about it.”

           “It’s all over now. The war’s over. There’s nothing to talk about anymore.”

           “No!” Cody snaps. “Somethin’s eating you alive inside. I’ve noticed! And—and—” his voice softens “— I want to help… Please… I love you.”

           That I love you stung.

           You give up hiding it. He already knows and there is no point keeping secrets from the man you adore… the man you trust.

           “This day isn’t fair! We won, so what? I’ve never felt less accomplished in my entire life—” your fingers dig into the bedsheets “—I couldn’t save them—” you blink away the squirming tears obscuring your vision “—they all died and never got to see the end.”

           Cody understands immediately who you are talking about. The clones. His brothers.

           “We were bred for this—”

           “Y’all are more than just stupid numbers, Cody! He had a name! They all did!”

           You scream in agony into your mattress as your walls come tumbling down. After a moment of letting go of the pain, small hiccups pipe from your aching chest as you slowly calm yourself down.

           “It’s hard being the one who survives. That’s a burden I – all my brothers – will have to carry. But not you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

           Not knowing how else to help you, he lifts his hand and slips his fingers beneath yours, helping you ease your grip on the poor mattress. His thumb rubs gentle circles into your skin while the atmosphere goes still again. Unspoken understanding passes between the two of you. No words had to be exchanged as you share this silent moment with the commander.

           Then, in the dead quiet, tears filter down your cheeks. You did not know where they came from, but you didn’t feel sick anymore.

           Cody is there. He takes off his boots and armor and slips into the bed, wrapping you with the most protective hug. This warm space inside his arms calm you, but the tears still fall. Peering up into the commander’s face, you giggle uncontrollably when he kisses your red, puffy eyes. He keeps kissing you until all the tears are dry and you stop crying, then he slows down and takes his time. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you embrace the commander and the hands running up your sides.

~

           Cody's body rocks together with yours in slow, sensual movements. Your arms firmly grip around the commander’s torso as he takes care of you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear while warmly caging you beneath his weight.

           His strong arms bend backwards to hold your thighs with his calloused hands. The affection in his thrusts is unrushed. His hips roll in big, smooth circles to memorize your walls, to memorize the way you softly whimper and pant from the endearing pleasure he gives you.

           You are his world. He wants nothing more than to keep you here in this moment forever to show how much he loves you. Luckily, he'll have so much more time to do so now since the war is over.

           Your head lulls back into the soft pillow, mouth agape, as you allow yourself this moment to unwind. As Cody's cock delves rhythmically into your folds, you moan with each stroke. The tip of your ears heat up from the way this man above you tickles your neck with feather light kisses. He strokes your thighs with his thumbs, making sure not to buck too harshly into your hips. Tears begin to burn your eyes again.

           This man is making love to you.

           Cody – after everything he has been through in this war – still somehow retained his gentleness. But now he is sharing some of it with you in order for you to heal.

           The commander continues to whisper into your ear as you silence your whimpers in his chest, hands coming to rest on his pecs to feel more sheltered and secure under him.

           "Everything will be okay," is all that he repeats. "Everything will be okay."

           Smiling, you believe him while he gently wipes away your tears with his thumb.

[hughiecampbelle]

Presume (Shelby!Reader × Thomas Shelby Oneshot)

Character/s: Thomas, Arthur, John, Finn mention

Word Count: 1,202

Requested: Tommy decides to throw a masquerade party (maybe to gain allies?) And little shelby, not knowing who the other person is, due to masks and such, begins to dance with the son of one of the other feuding families ~ anon

Tag List: @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt @myriadimagines @lilyswritings @encounterthepast @writerdream22 @brithedemonspawn @trentstonesobrienhoechlin @death-of-a-mermaid @woahitslucyylu @obsessedunicorn24 @thedarkqueenofavalon @fangirlsarah16 @captivatedbycillianmurphy @theshelbyclan @creativemayhems @soleil-dor @thegirlwithoutaname87 @babylooneytoonz @peakyxtommy @locke-writes @lucillethings

A/N: I LOVE HOW THIS TURNED OUT!!!!! I really hope I could do your request justice my love, and that it's exactly what you wanted!!! I hope the wait wasn't too long either!!! I did make this entirely gender neutral btw! Is it obvious ya gurl had never danced with anyone besides friends? :P Ngl, I am proud of the storytelling!!! I always feel awful with fic requests because I worry I can never write them well, but I'm so happy with this!!!! Hope you like it my loves!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💖💜

Gif Credit: @nofckingfighting :)

FIC MASTERLIST PART ONE. / PART TWO. / PART THREE.

WANNA BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST?

((FIC REQUESTS ARE CLOSED))

The watchful eyes burning into your back, through your skin, wishing they could set your insides on fire. Anything to stop you without forcibly dragging you from the room. Had to look good, play nice, be on their best best behaviors. Be professional. Instead, they stare, locked in by an image, a facade. No better time to push til they break. The glass already out of your hand, cheeks burning hot, tongue and teeth growing slow, sleepy. A drink, or three. Enough to give you courage. Teetering empty on the silver platter, calling your name as you slip through crowd, your shoes tapping the dance floor, picking at random. So many choices. One by one, lined up by their own kind. Blood had a funny way of tricking people, believing there is safety in packs, in numbers. There isn't. There never was, but they don't know. They will. Holding out your hand, waiting, and they take it, as if it were always meant to be there.

Do what you do because you can, because you're the only one who can get under their skin without the repercussions of a bullet between the eyes. They could try. Lock your bedroom door shut. Gloat and mock, the music, the crowds, all of the noise burning through the air all the way up. Too young. Just a child. Not ready yet. As if this business hadn't been your life since you were a kid, as if you weren't playing with guns and God the way other kids played with dolls, with soldiers. Toying with life and death before you could fucking spell it. It wasn't just a job, but the very thing that ran through your veins. That impulse, that thought, the rationalizing. It was all you, and you were going to show them, despite what they thought, you were as much a Shelby as the rest.

Their hands on your waist, close, closer than you inow any of them like. Your arms around their neck, the gentle sway you have so soothing amongst the chaos. Behind the mask there is someone unrecognizable, a stranger, the perfect distraction. A mask stolen, plucked from your brothers room, your door left open, broken, the lock heavy on the floor. A child may scream, cry, throw themselves on to their bed, thrash until they're red in the face and the festivities have all ended. You were not a goddamn child. Quickly, you dressed. Something itchy, uncomfortable, unwearable on any other occasion, but perfect for tonight. Grown up. Showing off every piece of you that made you look older, sharper, more jaded. Knife-like, a single touch a very dangerous thing. Down the stairs, scanning the first floor. Too many to count. Potential allies, and enemies, alike, all wanting a piece of power. Three familiar bodies, covered faces, but too easy, falling into their own imperfect habits.

John, Thomas, Arthur.

They hold you, their touch light, but intentional. Their hands nor their gaze ever travel, deserving a slap, a huff, a razor. No, they are shy. That much you can tell. Shy, even bashful, taking you in with every breath.A smile, that of innocence, of embarassment, and then, four simple words, whispered in your ear, barely above the violin, a voice that is far sweeter than you expected, honeyed with youth, hiccuped with wit. "I think they're staring." You don't dare look. You already know. Recognizing you soon enough. Good. You only shake your head, a head full of bubbles, and continue dancing. A stunt. That's what they named her, as if she were thoughtless. You'd never thought more about anything in your life. Not just the outfit, the picked lock, the alcohol, but your partner, the one you shared song after song with. You had your pick. Could have moved on, chose another, and another after that, but they stuck out, even behind the mask. They weren't afraid of you, or your brothers.

A party of class, wealth, legitimacy, all of these new things recently acquired by your family. One to gain attention, political allies, in search of anyone who wouldn't stab you in the back and leave you for dead. Far more people than you ever expected. All day, you watched Thomas' grand manor turn into that of a castle, one with a ballroom, rid of furniture, pictures, any evidence this place was a home, your home, at all. Other doors, places unused, unseen, locked. Careful, but not too careful. Your brother, always wary. One by one your aunt, sister, brothers, and their families come dressed for the occasion. Even Finn had been allowed to join in all the fun. You were geting ready, your hair undone, your clothes strewn across the floor. Tommy promised you there was no need to worry about any of that. The door slammed behind you before you had the chance to catch it. Your fists pounced on the door, pulling at the handle, your fury building. Of age, and still just a baby.

Alone now, you had time to think, to plan, to invade.

You weren't sure what was more careless: the fact they thought a locked door could keep you in, or that an event for allies could keep enemies out. The whole night you spent with them, your sweet stranger, one nameless, laughing at your jokes, your quips, unfazed by the cruelty, the hostility your words. Your mother tongue. They spoke the same language, one of cynicism, jabs at other guests as they kissed your brothers feet. In the end, they left you with nothing more than a kiss to your hand and solemn goodbye, never taking off their mask. The music dulled, the crowd thinning. Your punishment imminent, impending, cold hands tugging at your wrist, angry words quiet, hushed, threatening you with a lifetime of imprisonment.

A wonderful night come to an end.

It wouldn't be for a week or two until you saw that face again. Left out of another family meeting, a locked door becoming an old friend, left to wander the shop. You'd interrogate Finn later. For now, it was only you and the empty rooms. One by one you explored. A swesting glass of brown, the ice melting, on Arthurs desk, that of an early celebration. A drawing on Johns desk, illustrated from one of his young ones, colors scribbled and squiggled over his smiling face. And on Thomas' sat a pile of photos. All of them, thick black X's, drawn by his own hand, over their faces. A hit list. That of enemies, people out to kill. Get rid of them before they get rid of him. On the bottom, the dead rest. Towards the top were those he was hunting, the job not yet finished. One struck you, a slap across the face, one that left your nerves thin. At first, just another stranger. And then, a closer look. That smile, those eyes, you could almost hear their laugh, those words. Not a quip at the expense of your brothers, but their own watching your every move. Calculated, calloused, hungry. You hadn't even noticed. These days, enemies and allies walked a very thin line.

"I think they're staring."

You had to tell Tommy.

[kumeko]

A/N: For the Kidge zine (2) that got cancelled sadly! Look at me, practicing AUs!

…

…

…

…

Keith always had a plan. It might not be entirely idiot-proof (working with Lance had proven that), but it was always solid and well-thought-out. Today was no exception—he’d break into the Lion Castle, steal the comet fragments hidden inside the tallest spire, and escape without leaving a trace.

 Well, realistically, he’d have to fight off a guard or two at least. Nothing ever went entirely according to plan and if he was honest, Lance wasn’t the only hothead in his guild.

 Still, things were going smoothly so far. He slipped into the castle in the dead of night, between rounds of patrols. Weaving his way through the shadows, he found a narrow staircase leading up the spire and, even better, ledges outside the tower that made it easy for him to scale all the way to the top floor. Inside the room, there was a single box on a single table, almost as though the Alteans were daring him to steal it.

 As his hand rested on the box, he paused. This was too easy, even for a mission without Lance. Keith glanced in the direction of the door but it was impossible to see through it and at the soldier standing guard outside. The lone torch in the room flickered and Keith shrugged off his suspicions. There was nowhere for anyone to hide in here. Maybe the Alteans hadn’t realized just how valuable this comet fragment was.

 Quickly, he pulled out a small black bag as he opened the box. Once he’d secured the comet—

 The box was empty.

Keith always had a plan but it never accounted for someone stealing the comet before him. Dumbfounded, he stared at the black velvet lining the box, blinking as he processed what he saw. “The fu—”

 As though to punctuate his swear, a building exploded just outside the window.

 -x-

 “Woah!” Pidge screamed, falling backwards from the shockwave of the explosion. She covered her ears, but it was too late; all she could hear was ringing. Dimly, she was aware the Hunk was yelling something, but he was always yelling and she could make a good guess about what it was. Knowing him, he was pointing at the ceiling. Or rather, where the ceiling used to be. Lying on her dorm floor, she stared up at the night sky.

 Well. That was a first. Her experiments sometimes got out of hand, but this was the first time she’d destroyed part of a building. Her floormates were going to kill her. It had been bad enough that she had burned her hair the last time her spell got out of hand and set off the fire alarm. At least they’d started talking to her in class again after a week. This? She was going to get shunned permanently.

 “Oh god, you’re going to get expelled,” Hunk moaned, his voice slowly rising with each word. “I’m going to get expelled. I told you we shouldn’t have done this but nooo, you just had to do it. You just had to figure out what that stupid rock was for before anyone else could.”

 “I didn’t think it’d be that powerful,” Pidge grunted, sitting up. She almost wished her hearing hadn’t come back. Rubbing an ear, she gestured at the sparkling rock that lay on the floor in front of her. “I thought it’d just amplify our powers a little.”

 “If it wasn’t powerful, it wouldn’t have been locked up,” Hunk hissed in response. He paced back and forth on the floor, cradling his head in his hands. “You don’t think they’ll make us pay for all of this? I can’t afford this.”

 A high-pitched siren sounded, cutting off the rest of his rant and Pidge jumped to her feet. “Oh shit.”

 “The intruder alarms? But those—” Hunk turned to her, horror dawning on his face. “What’d you do?”

 “They must have found the people I knocked out.” Pidge darted to the door, poking her head out. “No one’s outside.”

 “You knocked out people?” Incredulous, Hunk stared at her like she’d grown a second head. “Who are you?”

 “Hey, it was heavily guarded!” Pidge scowled. Closing the door behind her, she stepped into the center of the room and stared up at the ceiling. “We must have a spell that could fix that.”

 “What’re you going to do, grow your vines?” Hunk scoffed, crossing his arms. “We can’t hide this. There’s an alarm sounding because everyone knows what we did.”

 “I just want to make it look a little less bad.” Pidge bit her lip, squinting up at the broken rafters. They had to have learned a spell in class about construction. Maybe if she checked her notes, she could find it. “Just something so we don’t actually get expelled.”

 “It’s way too late for that,” Hunk sighed, burying his face in his hands.

 Pidge rolled her eyes. If she wanted to get anything done, she had to get rid of him. “Yeah, yeah, you just go keep watch, I’ll figure something out.” She pushed him insistently toward the door.

 “Watch?” Hunk looked over his shoulder at her but didn’t fight the movement.

 “Yeah, so no one catches me. Just give me a heads up if anyone comes to check.” Pulling open the door, she pushed Hunk outside quickly. “I’ll go make it less noticeable.”

 “This is a stupid idea,” Hunk grumbled, but he started walking toward the staircase anyways. “So very stupid—”

 Not waiting to hear the rest of his rant, Pidge quickly closed the door shut. Okay, she just had to find the right spell and hide the comet and then they could figure out the rest tomorrow. A good night’s sleep could cure anything, even certain expulsion.

 “So this is where it was?”

 Pidge froze at the stranger’s voice. Was it a guard? Already? She turned around, silently cursing herself. So much for Hunk’s alarm. “I can explain.”

 “No need.” In the middle of the room stood a strange man, dressed entirely in form-fitting black. There were small pouches on his pants, daggers nestled in them, and the only thing visible was his face. His really pretty face. The moonlight shone down on him through the hole in the ceiling, revealing his mop of black hair, annoyed expression, and dark eyes. As she gawked, he crouched and grabbed the stone. “I can guess what happened but I don’t really care.”

 Well, that didn’t sound like any of the guards she knew. Not that he looked like one of them either. There wasn’t a patch to indicate his position in the academy either. Besides, she would remember a face like that. “You’re not a guard.”

 The stranger snorted, sending her an “obviously” response. Opening a black pouch, he slipped the stone inside and Pidge realized two things at one: 1) he was the reason for the alarms and 2) he was stealing the stone.

 The stone that she’d worked very hard to steal. The stone, which when gone, would definitely guarantee her and Hunk’s expulsion. As he turned away, she ran across the room and pounced, trying to rip the bag out of his hand. He smoothly stepped to the side, avoiding her, and she crashed to the floor. “Hey!” she growled. “Give that back!”

 “Why should I?” he retorted childishly.

 “Why?” she snarled, holding out a hand. Pidge had never really been one for rash decisions but this was a desperate time and desperate times called for desperate measures. Magic pulsated out of her as she shouted, “Recipero!”

 The stone ripped out of the bag and hurtled to her waiting hand. As it came closer and closer, Pidge realized with horror, the stone wasn’t slowing down. She tensed, trying to move out of the way, but her body was frozen.

 The stone hit her hand and she blacked out.

 -x-

 Keith gingerly kicked the unconscious woman at his feet. Maybe he should have expected the spells—the castle did have a famous magic school attached to it. There were bound to be at least some skilled mages here. “Hey,” he called out, but the girl didn’t so much as stir. He wasn’t too surprised; the stone hit her hand pretty hard. She must have passed out from all the pain.

 Quickly, he crouched next to her and grabbed her hand. Her fingers were loosely wrapped around the stone, as though to protect it from him, and he had to admire that tenacity. Gently, he pried open her fingers, revealing the sparkling comet shard beneath.

 A comet shard that didn’t look so much on her skin as embedded. He grabbed it, trying to pull it free, but the rock refused to budge. What the hell kind of spell did she do? Whatever admiration he had was instantly replaced with irritation; it wasn’t like his plans today had enough issues as it was, without dealing with this. Maybe he could pry it free with his knife—no, it could kill her and while he was a thief, Keith wasn’t a murderer. At least, not for unsuspecting students who did not sign up for guard duty.

 “Pidge! They’re coming!” a man shouted in the hallway.

 Alert, Keith picked up the sound of dozens of boots stomping up the stairs. The guards must have caught onto him. Or maybe onto her—that explosion was pretty big. Either way, he didn’t have time to figure this out. One last futile tug on the rock and Keith sighed heavily. The hard way it was, then.

 Without hesitation, he slung the woman over his shoulders like a potato sack. He’d have to figure out what to do with her after he’d escaped.

 -x-

 “Huhhh?” Pidge blinked as she stared at a black fabric, her face pressed against it and some hard substance behind it. She was moving somewhere, she could feel it with every bump. Where? Why? She was in her room, last she remembered. Experimenting with the shard—

 Pidge gasped, remembering what had happened. Turning her head, she realized she was outdoors, it was midday, and that black fabric was the back of someone’s shirt. The thief’s shirt, she was certain. “You’re a kidnapper too?” she shouted, struggling to get off him. She tried to kick her feet but his grip was too strong. Resorting to her fists, she hit his back as hard as she could. “Let me go!”

 “Hey! Cut it out!” The thief grunted when she got a particularly hard jab in and dropped her to the ground.

 Pidge groaned as she rolled on the gravel pathway. She should have thought that out more. Rolling onto her back, she rubbed her head. Something hard pressed against her skin and she raised her hand to look at it. The comet shard stared back. “Wait, what?” She had to be seeing things, right? Why did she still have it and why did her hand hurt so much?

 “Hey? You okay?” The thief crouched next to her, worriedly examining her head, and damn, now that he was close, he looked even prettier.

 Prettier but evil, definitely evil, she thought, and she swatted his hand away. “I’m fine.” She pulled herself up to a sitting position slowly. Her hand hurt a lot and she looked at it once more. “Is it just me or is there a rock in my skin?”

 “Yeah…” The thief stared at her. “What did you do?”

 “I…” Pidge furrowed her brows, remembering the last spell she’d called. Recipero. A simple spell, really, except she’d accidentally mispronounced it in the heat of the moment. It was more of a Ree-see-prohh instead of Ree-sip-roh. And sounds could change entire spells into something different. “I think I miscast a spell.”

 “Great.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Can you undo it?”

 “…uh…I’m not sure.” Pidge winced. She should never have stolen the stupid rock in the first place.

 “Even better.” The thief bit his cheek, looking back in the direction they’d come from. Following his gaze, Pidge realized she didn’t even recognize the part of the path they were on. Just how far had he managed to travel?

 “Uh, where are we?” she asked, studying the trees around her. They weren’t native to the castle grounds.

 “Near Galra,” the thief answered absentmindedly, still pondering his next move.

 Galra. As in Altea’s enemy and neighbouring country. As in a place she definitely could get killed because they were hostile to outsiders. Pidge’s legs felt wobbly.

 Standing up, the thief said, “Okay, I know someone who might be able to help.”

 “Right. Help.” Pidge was the top of her class, great with theory, getting better with practical applications. She was many things, but this was not a situation she was equipped for.

 “Here.” The thief held out a hand. “You can walk, right?”

 She stared at his hand blankly for a moment before grabbing it. “Yeah.”

 “Great. We have a long walk ahead of us.” He pulled her to her feet. “Don’t make me tie you up.”

 Well, even if she could run (she had terrible stamina), there was nowhere to go. Yet. But wherever they were going potentially had cities along the way and near Galra wasn’t in Galra. Not yet. Pidge could escape, if she bided her time.

 She smiled nervously. “Gotcha.”

 All she had to do was be patient.

[heliads]

The Watching Hawk Chapter 2: Capture

Bucky Barnes is constantly haunted by his past, but the memories of his days as a Winter Soldier will come into a new light in the form of the Watching Hawk, his old HYDRA partner. Will he be able to trust her, and will she be able to move on from his mistakes?

previous / series masterlist / next

Bucky rakes a hand through his already disheveled hair, desperate to uncover some memory about the woman he once worked with. “You’re sure she wasn’t just upset because you helped bring her to HYDRA in the first place?” Steve’s voice sounds out from across the room, and Bucky looks up tiredly. “No, it was something else. This seemed more like something personal, as opposed to me simply following orders.” 

Ever since he last saw Y/N, Bucky’s been hung up on what she last said.  I will never forgive you for what you did. The problem is, he can’t remember what he possibly could have done to cause her such pain. The only details he can remember about his time at HYDRA with Y/N involve the two of them spending time together, both on the battlefield and recovering from what they were forced to do. He knows they were close, but he can’t remember the wedge that drove them apart.

“Regardless, it’ll have to wait for now. Dominic Cole is only a day away from giving his presentation to Congress, and we know HYDRA’s planning another strike on him. This time, we have a different strategy- we have to take out the Hawk.” Bucky can’t help a slightly derisive snort once he hears Steve’s new plan. “And how exactly are you planning on doing that? She’s a world-class soldier, with control over as many HYDRA operatives as she wants. We are a group of four people.” Natasha clucks her tongue as she enters the room. “I love your positivity, Barnes. Despite all that, it’s the only chance we have at dismantling the plot against Cole. Without the ringleader, there’s no operation. Take out the Hawk, Cole is safe.”

Bucky runs a hand over his face tiredly. “What are your plans to house her? We all know that you can’t kill her- that would bring HYDRA down on us in ways you can’t believe. Your only chance is to lock her up in a cell that’s so hidden from view that not even the Director knows where it is” Steve nods thoughtfully. “I think we’ve got something in mind. We don’t need to worry about that, just how we can get to her.”

Sam turns from Steve to Bucky. “Do you remember any weaknesses? Any blind spots or things we should keep in mind?” “No more than any other soldier. It’ll take all of our focus and energy to take her out, so stay sharp.” With that, the meeting is concluded. Time to face the Watching Hawk once more.

Tensions are high when the black vans are seen once again the next day. They are the same ones from before, but there are far more in number. “HYDRA’s expecting an attack. Let’s give them one.” Sam speaks, pressing a button on the back of his suit that makes his wings extend. This time, they won’t be waiting for HYDRA to attack- as long as Bucky and his friends make the first move, they’ll have the best shot at capturing Y/N. He’s not sure how well that’s going to work, but if that’s what it takes to stop this newest plan of HYDRA, that’s what he’ll do.

The Watching Hawk is eventually sighted by Natasha. The Hawk is standing on a bridge, surrounded by dozens of armed soldiers. At a nod from Steve, Bucky and the blond take off quietly in their direction. Natasha and Sam will cause a distraction, and when the guards are busy chasing them, Steve and Bucky can swoop in and get Y/N. 

Unfortunately, things do not go according to plan. Although guards do follow Natasha and Sam away from the Hawk, there are still too many to immediately get Y/N. Steve crouches behind a nearby truck, then whispers urgently in Bucky’s ear. “I’ll get the soldiers. You make your way to her.” They nod decisively, then spring into action.

The second the soldiers see the two friends, they start shooting. Bucky dodges bullets and punches, all the while making his way closer and closer to the Hawk. She sees him soon enough, raising her head to stare at him cooly. Surprisingly, she stalks towards him with the confident attitude of a soldier long trained in battle. 

“You shouldn’t have come back.” She says, devoid of any emotion other than a lingering trace of hate. “We all make our own choices. Maybe you’ll understand mine later.” The Hawk looks up at him, confused. “Cпать.” The command tumbles from some corner of Bucky’s mind, and although he cannot remember where he heard it he is grateful for the effect- Y/N instantly crumples to the ground. 

Bucky quickly sweeps up her unconscious body in his arms, racing away from the fight. Once Steve sees him leave, he follows Bucky out of the range of the HYDRA soldiers. “How’d you manage to knock her out?” Steve asks once they meet up again. Bucky can only shrug his shoulders. “I think it’s an old HYDRA command. I didn’t really remember it until I saw her.” Steve just claps him in the shoulder. “Well, I’m glad you did. Nat and Sam are already heading back to base, we just need to make sure the Hawk doesn’t wake up on transit.”

Luckily, she doesn’t. Bucky finds himself staring at her the whole drive back to the Avengers compound, taking in tiny details of her face and trying to match them to different moments from a time when they were still close. Before he knows it, they’ve arrived, and Y/N’s unconscious form is taken away to her cell. Hours later, though, Bucky is still thinking about her, and he supposes that’s why he finds himself walking to the door of her cell. 

Y/N looks up when the cell door closes behind him. She is handcuffed to a chair, restraints encircling her arms, legs, and wings. “So, he’s come to visit. I didn’t realize you knew HYDRA commands.” Bucky returns her gaze steadily. “Neither did I.” 

The Hawk leans back against her chair, the picture of relaxation. “If you’re here to chat like old friends, you’ve come to the wrong cell. I don’t want to talk to you.” Bucky just shakes his head. “You used to tell me you wanted to escape HYDRA. That if you had the chance to leave, you’d take it. What changed?”

Y/N’s laugh is incredulous, echoing around the empty cell. “What changed? Have you actually forgotten, or are you just brainless without the guide of HYDRA?” Bucky’s fists clench at his sides, and the Hawk laughs. “Oh, I apologize. I wouldn’t want to make you upset.” Bucky shakes his head to rid himself of his anger, then he turns back to the woman in front of him. “We used to be close. You used to trust me. I don’t know what you’re talking about, but it didn’t bother you the last time I saw you.”

Bucky watches as Y/N’s face slowly changes from cool to hateful. It’s like seeing water freeze- the ice spreads across her expression, hardening her eyes and freezing her smile into a glare. “Oh, surely you would remember. Surely they’d let you keep that one memory. Well, if you can’t remember, I would love to tell you.” She tilts her head to the side just slightly, and Bucky leans forward to hear everything she has to say.

“It was a few years after I was first inducted into HYDRA. I had just completed a

mission, and they didn’t think I did a satisfactory job. They asked you what I did wrong, and you told them that I was too afraid to hurt my wings. That, by being preoccupied with not damaging them, I was distracted from my true purpose to kill. My wings were still feather and bone, of course. And so, they tied me down and ripped off my wings. Do you know how that felt?” Y/N’s trembling now, her entire body shaking as she remembers the torture of the years gone by. “It felt like having your arms torn off. It felt like I was being cut by knives for hours and days and weeks at a time. Then, they gave me new metal wings. The pain was so unbearable that I kept passing out, but they’d only wake me so I could black out again. In the end, I had monstrous metal wings, and it was all thanks to you.”

Y/N looks over her shoulder at her wings, and Bucky feels taken aback by the disgust and hatred in her eyes. “After my wings were replaced, I wouldn’t look at you or even speak to you unless they forced me too. Eventually, they removed the memory of you telling them to get rid of my wings so we could work together once more. So we could be the perfect partnership. Of course, once you left HYDRA they gave me back the memory so I could know exactly what you did to me. So I could kill you the second I saw you again.”

Bucky doesn’t feel upset or confused anymore, just pity. “You didn’t, though. If you wanted me dead, I would be dead. Even though you tell yourself that you hate me because of your wings, you know it’s not true.” The glare emanating from Y/N could kill, but Bucky can sense that it isn’t quite real. “You don’t know that! This is the truth, and you just can’t accept it because you don’t want to live with the knowledge that this is your fault.” Bucky looks at Y/N once more, staring into her eyes until he’s not sure if the world consists of her or the cell. “We both know that’s not right. You’re not angry at me because of your wings, you’re angry that I left HYDRA and I never looked for you. You’re angry that I never fulfilled my promise to have a life of our own together, and you’re angry at yourself for wanting it.” At Y/N’s piercing, troubled gaze, Bucky turns and leaves the cell. He’s said what he needed to, and he knows that Y/N has done the same.

Natasha, Sam, and Steve are waiting for him in one of the meeting rooms. Surprisingly, they’re still looking at the readouts from the clash with the HYDRA soldiers. Bucky walks up next to them. “I thought we were done with all that. We’ve got Y/N, why are you still looking at the data?” Steve sighs, turning to face his friend. “It isn’t as easy as we thought it would be. It turns out we have a chance at getting into HYDRA. There’s a file in here that mentions a conference soon, with HYDRA leaders out of the country. If we can get into one of their bases, it will be mostly empty and we can not only sabotage them but get some of their files, too. It’s too good an offer to pass up.” Bucky eyes Steve suspiciously. “What’s the catch?” Natasha looks over at Bucky, the firm slant of her mouth telling him that whatever she’s about to say won’t be good news. “We’ll need Y/N to help us get in.”

Immediately, Bucky’s on edge. “What are you talking about? She’d never help us in a million years. There’s no way she would agree, and even if she did, there’s no guarantee that she wouldn’t turn on us the second we were on HYDRA territory. This is a bad idea.” Sam gestures at Bucky in agreement. “See, that’s what I said! HYDRA agents always go back to HYDRA. We can get in without her.” 

Steve shakes his head. “We need Y/N for entry codes and to avert suspicion. There’s no way we can do this without her.” Bucky sighs, propping his head up on his hands. “So, which one of you is going to tell her that she’s going back to home base?” At the silence following his question, Bucky raises his eyebrows. “Surely you’re not saying I should talk to her. Y/N hates me! Every single word she’s said to me is about how I betrayed her and how she never wants to see me again.” Natasha folds her arms across her chest. “She won’t say a word to us. No matter what we try, she keeps her mouth shut. If she’s willing to talk to you, even if it’s about past grievances, it’s the best shot we have at convincing her.” Steve nods in agreement. “Look, we know this won’t be easy, but you’re our best bet.” Bucky grumbles, but he knows what he has to do. “Fine, I’ll do it. Just don’t expect anything to come out of it.”

And he’s right- once Bucky tells Y/N what they’re planning, he’s greeted with incredulous laughter. “Why the hell would I work with you? Do you really trust me that much?” Bucky glares at her. “You think I didn’t ask that already? You know why we want you on this project, and we know this is your only shot at a life without HYDRA. Take it or leave it, but you know what you’re giving up if you decide not to go with us.” The Hawk lets out a derisive snort. “I think you know what my answer is.” Her smirk is enough to make Bucky’s jaw clench, but he just walks out of the cell with as much dignity as he can muster.

A few hours later, Bucky, Natasha, Sam, and Steve are all plotting their entry into the HYDRA base. Even without the help of the Hawk, they’ve still got a fairly good chance of completing the mission. At a loud knock at the door, they all look up, and are especially stunned when they see who’s come to visit. Y/N doesn’t have to say anything, just a smirk. Her arms are bound in front of her, and there is a patrol of armed guards surrounding her. “I’m rethinking my allegiances.” At a stunned look from Bucky, she lets out a low laugh. “Oh, don’t worry, I still don’t trust you. I just want a way out of HYDRA. I refuse to be anyone’s toy soldier.” With that, she turns her attention to the data on the HYDRA base in front of them. All of a sudden, Bucky and his friends have a new ally.