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wayward-mikaelson · 4 years ago

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Winter’s Doll--Chapter Three

Word Count: 2311

About: Nadia finally get’s to train with Steve and Bucky

Characters: Nadia, Steve, Bucky, Wanda, Natasha, Tony, Vision,

Pairing: None

Warnings/Trigger Warnings: Language, Train-fighting, Dislocated shoulder,

A/N: Sorry this took a while to get out. I got into a funk and then had two story ideas.

*This work contains content for the 18 and up crowd

**Please don’t copy and paste my work anywhere. I work really hard on all of my stuff.

***This work is also posted on Instagram (Excerpt ONLY), WattPad, and Archive Of Our Own

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*****Currently NOT taking any requests

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Chapter Two

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Nadia woke up that morning with a throbbing headache. Did she regret drinking that much? Yes, yes she very much. Did she regret her time talking and hanging out with Bucky? Nope, not one bit. In fact, Nadia enjoyed it every single second of it. The way she felt safe in his presence. The way he made her smile and laugh. Ditching her own party and just talking with someone like that was what she needed.

Nadia slowly rolled out of bed. The moment that she stood to her feet, her entire world started to sway and there was gurgling in her stomach. Fuck, she thought as she raced her way to the bathroom. Nadia slide on her knees to the toilet and just as she was opening it, she let everything from the night before out. She hacked everything up until her throat burned with stomach acid.

With a groan, Nadia sat back on her knees and hung her head back. This is going to be a long day, she thought. I wonder how Bucky is feeling. You stood up and then chuckled lightly to yourself. “He’s a super soldier, so of course he doesn’t feel like me,” Nadia said aloud as she started on her morning routine.

Once dressed in comfortable clothes and hair up in a hair tie and head band, Nadia opened the door to see Vision floating right there. Seeing him, startled her to the point that she almost let out a yelp. But she held back because she didn’t trust what sound came out of her mouth.

“You know,” Vision started to say tilting his head sideways. “A copious amount of alcohol will make you sick like that.” Shit, Nadia thought as he spoke. This is too early. “Maybe you should try and lower your intake from now on.”

Nadia blinked a few times and rubbed her face. “I don’t think so,” she said in a loud whisper. “Because I like drinking and I know too much makes me sick. But that’s the fun part about being human, you can ignore the fact that it does. And regret it the morning after.”

Nadia simply walked away from Vision without another word. Nadia walked her way towards the kitchen where she got a good whiff of someone making eggs and bacon. The smell started to make Nadia gag until Natasha held out a green drink.

“Drink up,” she said without making eye contact. “This will make you feel better. Disgusting as hell but you won’t be puking your guts out during training. Also eat this,” Natasha slid a plate of toast towards Nadia.

Nadia took the drink in her hand and glared at it as she turned the glass in her hands. “What is all on this drink?” she asked.

“Don’t ask, just drink,” Natasha instructed. “And also eat.”

Nadia made a face before bringing the glass to her lips. Trying not to breath through her nose, Nadia drank every last drop of the green drink. Natasha was right, that drink was disgusting. With each swallow, Nadia wanted to slam the glass on the table and puke it all up. The moment she was done, Nadia had shivers of disgust running down her spine.

“That was gross,” Nadia took the toast and slowly took a bite.

“Maybe, next time, it'll teach you not to steal my most expensive bourbon,” Tony’s voice enters the kitchen.

Nadia took another bite of toast. She could already feel the green drink and toast do it’s job. Yep, she thought, I am so going to order that glitter bomb. Maybe even two. “Maybe, new time,” Nadia walked towards Tony raising her eyebrow. “Keep it locked away or at least out of the open bar.”

Nadia turned on her heels and walked out of the kitchen and made her way towards the training facilities. Nadia wasn’t going to lie to herself, she was nervous as hell to train with Bucky and Steve. Given they were super human and could possible crush her very easily.

Nadia has seen footage of Steve fighting over the years on the news. He was quick and strong. Nadia knew of one his weaknesses. Bucky on the other hand, Nadia has never seen. She only had to assume that he was just as quick and strong, and plus he had a metal arm.

Nadia made it to the training facility to see that only Bucky was in there. He was writing something in a book. Hey looked really lost in thought because his eyebrows furrowed while he wrote. His hair was up again. He wore a t-shirt that defined his muscles perfectly. He also wore grey sweatpants. The whole look, looked really off for him.

“Hey,” Nadia approached Bucky. He looked up with is blue eyes and gave her a small smile. “What are you writing?”

Bucky closed his book and set it aside. “It’s a memory journal. I’m sure you’ve already heard about me,” Bucky looked down and Nadia could see some sort of sadness slowly creep into his eyes.

“Here and there,” Nadia sat next to Bucky. “It’s okay, I don’t really judge people on their past.”

Bucky turned to her. “That’s good to know,” he smiled. “Uh, Steve is running a little late so I can help you warm up before he shows up.”

Nadia let Bucky help her warm up for the next twenty minutes. He held up punching and kicking pad and Nadia showed him all the force that she held the small punches and kicks. Bucky’s face was surprised by how well she held herself. He would give her some minor corrections on hip and foot placement. Nadia noticed how gentle he was when correcting her hips. She felt the coolness of his metal hand. Even when he placed his leg between hers to push her feet slightly together, he was gentle as well. Nadia found it bit hard to concentrate but she was able to push it aside.

“This will help you move a bit quicker,” he said taking a step back. “I hope to see that when we spar.”

The doors opened and in walked Steve and the rest of the team. Nadia wasn’t used to having the whole team in watching her train. Maybe a few here and there, but she guessed that since she was training with two soldiers it would be an entertaining things to watch.

“Shall we get started?” Steve asked setting his water bottle down.

“Who am I sparing with first?” Nadia asked.

Steve and Bucky exchanged a look. Nadia knew the answer right away before Bucky spoke. “You’re going to sparing with the both of us. We won’t be going too hard on you, but we also won’t be going easy on you either.”

“At the same time,” Steve added. “So are you ready?”

Nadia was ready, she’d been in hand to hand combat training with a few fellow soldiers at once. But they weren’t super soldiers like Steve and Bucky. Nadia took a deep breath and bit her lips before giving her answer.

“Let’s get this show started.”

“Twenty bucks she takes them both down,” Sam Wilson said from his spot in the room.

“You’re on,” Nadia watched as Tony pulled a folding chair open and said down.

Nadia looked back at the two men in front of her and took a deep breath. Nadia scanned both men’s bodies. She looked for anything that looked like a weakness. Bucky seemed more planted firmly on the ground where Steve didn’t. Bingo, Nadia thought.

From the corner of her eyes, Nadia saw Bucky step to his right and saw Steve step to his right. Nadia was a small person. She moved quickly and knew how to maneuver her way in and out of people. It was what made her a really good asset to her squadron before being discharged.

Nadia quickly stepped forward between the men and dropped to the ground and swung her let out and managed to trip Steve. Steve fell on hard on his back, hitting the back of his head on the training mats. Nadia quickly rolled out of way of Bucky, who had actually anticipated that move. Nadia stood up and spun around in time think quickly and kick Bucky square in the chest. Bucky stumbled backwards.

“That was good, fast,” Bucky rubbed his chest with his metal hand.

Before Nadia could say anything, she felt her feet being pulled out form under her. Nadia fell hard on her chest, knocking the wind out of her. She was flipped to her back and Steve straddled her and attempted to pin her hands down but, Nadia grabbed his face and used what force she could and head butted him. Then she kneed him in the back Steve rolled over off her.

“She’s kicking Steve’s ass,” Natasha said.

Nadia ignored her. She kicked Steve over on his back and straddled him as she ripped the drawstrings out of his sweatpants. Before she could do anything, Bucky pulled her off Steve. Bucky, in no time, had Nadia up on the wall with his metal hand on her throat. He put enough pressure to where Nadia gasped. Nadia for a split second thought that what he did was hot.

“It’s okay, Doll,” Bucky whispered. “That’s all the pressure I’m going to apply.”

Nadia knew that was a mistake on his part. She smirked at him and Bucky tilted his head. Nadia kicked both her legs up until they landed on his shoulders. Nadia forced forced Bucky closer to her and the closer he got, the looser his hand got. Bucky had no choice but to let her go. This allowed Nadia to swing all the way onto Bucky’s shoulders.

Bucky’s metal hand came flying up, grabbing at Nadia’s shirt. Nadia, who still had the drawstring from Steve’s pants, use it to wrap it around Bucky’s neck. Not to tight though, this was training after all, but enough to have him notice and grasp at it. Bucky knelt down and Nadia flipped off his shoulders and rolled into a crouch.

“Nadia did what you couldn’t Nat,” Tony’s voice is teasing.

“Shut the fuck up, Tony,” Natasha snapped back. “Bucky was brainwashed when we fought. Nadie, just got the better end of the stick.”

Nadia noticed that Steve had moved to the side and was watching. Probably for the best, Nadia saw many weak points and blind spots in Steve. Nadia focused back on Bucky and she could tell that he was trying to figure out the best way to get the better of her.

Nadia looked at Bucky’s metal arm. He had the upper hand with that thing and she knew she had to figure something out to take it out of play. Nadia straightened her body up and began to walk slowly towards Bucky.

“We could call it,” Bucky said. He didn’t even sound out of breath. “Call it a tie or something.”

“Now why would I do that?” Nadia asked taking a deep breathe. She stopped a couple feet in front of Bucky. “I’m still having fun.”

Bucky chuckled and threw out his metal arm. Nadia dove down towards the mat but instantly felt Bucky’s cool metallic hand on her ankle. He yanked her back until their faces were a foot apart.

“Still having fun?” he mocked.

Nadia sat up and head butted Bucky in the face. The moment he let go, she hopped back onto his shoulder. The moment Bucky grabbed hold of Nadia’s legs and pressed them firm to his chest, Nadia knew that she made a mistake.

Bucky whipped both their bodies down on the mat. Nadia’s left shoulder hit first and she heard and felt a small pop. She yelled out and felt Bucky’s head roll away before she felt his hand on her.

“Are you okay?” he asked. The concern was very much heard in his voice.

“My shoulder,” Nadia groaned and bit her lip too distract her from the pain radiating around her shoulder.

Bucky felt around. “You’re shoulders dislocated. I’ll help you to the infirmary.”

Bucky help Nadia up and wrapped an arm around her waist. Nadia notice the whole team was standing up looking at her. No one said a word as the two of them walked out of the room and towards the elevator to the infirmary.

“You’re not that bad,” Bucky said pressing the button to the fourth floor. “You pretty much had me. I just kept going cause I’m pretty stubborn.”

Nadia laugh and then groaned at the new pain in her shoulder. “You’re not too bad yourself. My goal was to try and take your metal arm out. Temporarily.”

Nadia spent less than an hour in the infirmary. The doctor there pushed her shoulder back into place and gave her a sling and told her to wear that for the rest of the day. Nadia made a face and tried to protest but Bucky stopped her and walked her out of the infirmary.

“It’s better to just go with the flow,” He told her.

Once the elevator doors closed, Nadia pulled the sling off her and balled it up in her hands. Final day of training and Nadia get’s hurt. Not a bad way to end it. Now hopefully she can relax for the rest of the day or at least enough to make her new team mates comfortable.

“Unless I’m behind on military training and such, but you don't fight like a soldier,” Bucky turned to Nadia.

“That’s because I wasn’t just a normal soldier. Special Forces had this elite program that both my brother and I were in apart of. Technically it wasn’t supposed to exist.”

Bucky nodded in understanding what she said. “Well, you’re a badass and I’m glad you’re on the team.”

Nadia smiled. “Thank you.”

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wiener-soldiers · 4 years ago

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the imperfect bubble - steve rogers

summary: y/n looks at bucky barnes like he’s the sun and the stars; bucky looks at y/n y/l/n like nothing more than his best friend. steve looks at peggy carter like she’s a divine angel; peggy looks at steve rogers like he’s nothing more than the remnants of a college romance. y/n looks at steve rogers like he’s a mirror; steve looks at y/n y/l/n like she’s the only person left that he can confide in.

words: 10.2k (you read that right)

warning: angst, unrequited love, the slowest slow burn you can possibly fathom, okay maybe not a slow burn but more like an oh shit that happened, minimal editing

a/n: im?? back?? i really enjoyed writing this one tho

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Leave your grievances at the door.

It was no longer an unspoken rule; when Steve and Bucky stepped into Y/N’s shared apartment with her college—and by association, their—friend’s Natasha and Wanda for movie night, they found the saying printed on the doormat inside their apartment.

It was a tradition that Steve, Bucky, and Y/N started their freshmen year of college. Steve and Bucky were best friends since childhood and have been through thick and thin together. So it was no surprise that despite the two attending different colleges, they still made it a habit to spend every waking moment together.

The two left their beloved Brooklyn to attend schools in Manhattan—Steve at Columbia pursuing his history degree and Bucky at NYU pursuing his engineering one. It was Steve’s turn to make the trip downtown and hang out with Bucky, but to his surprise, upon arriving at his dorm, he met eyes with a slightly wine-drunk girl hanging upside down Bucky’s bed while he tried to throw popcorn in his mouth.

It was quite the first impression, but Steve learned her name was Y/N, she went to NYU for journalism, and that she’d be sticking around a lot.

That night, instead of going out, Steve joined them in Bucky’s dorm, watching shitty Netflix reality shows, getting drunk on cheap wine, and their weekly tradition lived on ever since.

The doormat saying was one Y/N jokingly said to Bucky in their sophomore year of college. Y/N had moved into a new apartment in the East Village with Natasha and Wanda, two girls she bonded with over mutual hate for a certain TA. Despite Steve and Bucky’s place being decently big after deciding to move into a place together, the girl’s place was decidedly better decorated and more suited for movie nights.

Bucky had come in complaining about how a girl in his class flirted with him just to steal his notes and eventually best him during their midterms. Granted, it was a thrilling tale, but Y/N has jokingly told him to, “Leave you grievances at the door, Buck. This is movie night; we are going to chill and get drunk.”

The unspoken movie night rule stuck ever since.

So, when Steve and Bucky (now juniors) kicked their shoes off upon entering the girl’s apartment, the let out an audible laugh, alerting them that the muscle of the group was here.

“You like it?” Y/N calls out from the kitchen, followed by several ‘pops.’ The smell of buttery popcorn wafted through the air as the two followed the scent into the living room. Natasha was already occupying her seat on the couch. Wanda sat on the floor, in between her legs so to let Natasha braid her hair, as she scrolled through her Netflix queue for movies to watch.

“Looks great, doll,” Bucky smiled at her, giving her a kiss on the cheek. Steve notices a red blush crawl up her neck and smirks, sending the girl a wink. Y/N’s blush extends even further.

“Where’d you get it?” Bucky asks, sauntering into the living room and hopping over the back of the couch to land beside Nat.

Wanda giggles, “I custom ordered it on Etsy. I thought it would be funny.”

“You’re not wrong,” Natasha replies before the three of them fall into easy conversation about their weeks.

Steve stays behind the kitchen, observing Y/N as she observes Bucky. He smiles amusedly at her before saying, “I take it he still doesn’t know.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, “He didn’t know last week. He didn’t know last year. He didn’t know since we were seventeen. You think I’m gonna tell him now?”

Steve shrugs, routinely helping Y/N gather the snacks and drinks for their movie night, “I think you’d be cute together, s’all.”

“Yeah? Tell that to the man himself,” Y/N says sarcastically.

“You could always tell him,” he counters, “Guys find it hot when girls make the first move.”

“Whatever you say, pal.”

---

As it turns out, Steve was right. And as much as Y/N hates to admit it, Steve was right about most things.

A few months after some mutual pining, Peggy Carter, the hot British international student that’s studying political science at Columbia grew more balls than Bucky and Steve ever could and asked the latter out on a date.

Y/N liked Peggy. She had gorgeous brown hair that was somehow always perfectly curled, warm eyes, but always wore seductively red lipstick. She looked like a drug, and if she wasn’t dating Steve, Y/N was convinced that she would ask the woman out herself.

Steve had stumbled into the girl’s apartment after their first date. Peggy had taken him dancing in a place in the East Village that played swing music and turned a blind eye when college students with sketchy looking fake IDs ordered cocktails. It’s not like they could do much harm anyway, most college kids who went there hopeless romantics who want nothing more than to dance with their dates with a little liquid courage.

As opposed to hopping on the subway slightly tipsy and potentially falling asleep before he reached in Midtown, Steve stumbled into his friend’s apartment, tipsy and high on the drug that took form in Peggy Carter.

“Hiya,” Steve said with a dopey, crooked smile. Y/N, Wanda, and Nat looked between themselves and Steve with widened eyes.

There were red lipstick stains all over his face.

Natasha smirks at him, “Looks like you had a good time with the missus.”

Steve points at Y/N, his eyes slightly lidded from drowsiness, “I told you it was hot when girls make the first move.”

Y/N lets out a snort. “It’s hot when Peggy Carter does anything, Stevie.”

His enormous grin widens. “Well, you got that fucking right.”

The three girls collective gag at the picture of Steve defiling the girl as Steve rolls his eyes at them, plopping down on the grey IKEA couch the girls were occupying. The couch was a moving in present from him and Bucky and despite how cheap it looked, they refused to allow the girls to get rid of it. If they were being honest, the girls didn’t have the heart to do so anyway.

“Do you mind if I crash here tonight?” Steve mumbles into Y/N’s lap.

“I’m staying at my brother’s tonight anyway,” Wanda says as she reaches over and runs a hand amusedly through Steve’s hair, “You can take my bed if you want, Steve.”

“No, s’okay. I’m comfy here,” he says, voice muffled by Y/N’s thighs.

“You’re a big fucking baby, you know that?” Y/N jokingly says, slapping Steve’s back. He screeches an ‘ow’ but doesn’t move an inch.

Nat smiles at them. Before she met Y/N and Steve, she would’ve been convinced they were dating. But, her heart is just as full knowing the incredibly wholesome and healthy friendship the two share. She reaches down to stroke Steve’s head before saying, “Y/N, I’m gonna go ahead and use the bathroom first—you seem occupied. Goodnight Steve.”

“Nighty night, Nat,” he murmurs. With Wanda, then Natasha stroking his head, sleep comes a lot faster than he intends.

“Steve?” Y/N asks him. It was her turn to slowly stroke his head.

“Mmhmm?”

“Did you let Bucky know you were staying over?” she asks, Mom-mode activating.

She feels her thighs rumble with Steve’s laughter. “He’ll live,” he tells her.

“He’s your best friend, hon. You gotta keep him updating on this kinda stuff.”

“But you’re my best friend too,” he sighs sleepily and Y/N’s heart swells with pride.

The corner of her mouth quirks into a smile, “Really?”

“Yeah, ‘course you duffus. ‘Sides, he probably thinks ‘m getting laid or somethin’.”

“You’re gross.”

“Eh, you love me.”

She did indeed. She let him fall asleep like that with a slight smile on his face, thinking about how well his date went. Y/N slowly slide out from underneath Steve, placing a blanket on top of him. She placed a glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol on the coffee table for him when he woke, along with a sticky note saying:

Gonna be up early tomorrow, lover boy. Take whatever leftovers you want from the fridge. Also, invite Peggy to movie night :)

---

Per Y/N’s request, Steve did ask Peggy to come to movie night with him. To which, she excitedly agreed.

And against Steve’s assumptions, Y/N seemed more excited to have her over than he was.

Steve and Peggy entered the apartment hand in hand, with Steve carrying a takeout bag and Peggy nursing a bottle of white wine. Bucky trailed in behind them, carrying a pack of beers.

“They have a cute place,” Peggy comments, slipping her shoes off and following Steve into the living room.

“Don’t tell it to their face, though. One compliment and they’ll fall in love with you and you’ll never be allowed out of their sight again,” Bucky jokes from behind them, wandering into the kitchen to set the beer down.

Despite their five-person gathering being a six-person one that night, Peggy fit right in. Over cheesy horror movies, glasses of wine and swigs of beer, and copious amounts of takeout, the bombshell of a Brit felt very at home with Steve’s friends. To her surprise, none of them were jealous of her—Steve was incredibly attractive and the perfect guy, so she was sure it was impossible for him to have female friends without them throwing themselves at him.

She was wrong.

She really got a full understanding of their friendship—especially Steve’s friendship with Y/N—when she wandered down the hall to find more blankets. She heard two voices quietly discussing in someone’s room. She would’ve walked away because she didn’t want to eavesdrop until she heard her name.

“Peggy seems to be really enjoying herself.” She recognizes the voice to be Y/N’s.

“God, I hope so. Thanks again for inviting her.” Steve’s voice this time.

“You were the one who invited her, jackass,” she hears Y/N say sarcastically.

She hears Steve groan, “Don’t even start with that. What I meant was…thanks for giving her a chance.”

Softer this time, she hears Y/N say, “Steve, you’re my best friend. I didn’t like your other girlfriends because they seemed like shitty people. Peggy is…Peggy is good for you. Like, really good.”

“Okay now…” he laughs.

“No, I’m serious. If you didn’t ask her out, I was really fucking close to taking her for myself,” she finished before she hears a yelp followed by a soft thud and mattress springs squeaking. She can’t help herself and takes a peek inside the room to find Steve tickling Y/N on the bed. Peggy smiles to herself at the closeness of the friendship.

She’s about to walk away when she suddenly feels the feeling in the room shift.

“Steve, I think I’m gonna ask out Bucky.”

She hears an excited gasp, “Fucking finally! I’ve been saying you guys would be great together for years!”

She hears Y/N shush him, “He’s in the other room Steve, shut up!”

Peggy hears Steve laugh, “Sorry, sorry. Why now, though?”

“Dunno. I guess I just like seeing you happy with Peggy. And I don’t know, it makes me think that I deserve that happiness too,” Y/N says softly and Peggy’s heart melts.

“I’m proud of you, Y/N,” she hears Steve say. Despite not knowing Y/N that long, she’s proud of her too.

“Thanks, Steve.”

---

Y/N doesn’t get a chance to ask Bucky out.

As Y/N, Nat, and Wanda were preparing brownies for movie night when they got a text on their group chat:

Bucky: Can’t make it to movie night

Nat: got a hot date or smth?

Bucky: ;)

“Y/N…” Natasha calls out.

“Mhmm?” the girl calls out. “Gimme a second, I gotta take the brownies before they burn.”

Natasha sighs and walks into the kitchen to find Y/N gingerly setting the pan of brownies onto the counter. Wordlessly, Nat shows Y/N her phone with the group chat open.

The smile immediately falls from Y/N’s face.

“Y/N…” the red-head starts before getting vehemently cut off.

“I should be happy for him, right? My best friend just scored a date—”

“Y/N—”

“I was happy when Steve started going out with Peggy, why can’t I be happy Bucky found someone too—”

“Y/N!” Natasha says, more firmly this time.

“Why did you show me this, Nat?” she hisses, whipping her head and staring accusingly at her.

Natasha narrows her eyes at her, “You fucking know why. This was on the group chat, but I wanted to be there if you needed me when you saw it.”

Y/N’s eyes soften, “Nat, I’m sorry—”

Natasha cuts her off and immediately envelops her in a hug. “Don’t be,” she whispers, patting her head comfortingly, “You’re too good for Bucky, anyways.”

Y/N scoffs into her shoulder, “That’s my best friend, asshole. And Steve always said we’d be good together.”

“Steve has no fucking clue what he’s talking about.”

Y/N laughs a little harder, forcing the tears she was trying to keep in slowly stream down her face. Natasha immediately notices, and wipes them away with her thumbs, “Don’t cry, sweetheart. And don’t think about Bucky. ‘Sides, it’s movie night and—”

“—I need to leave my grievances at the door, yeah I know,” she finishes with a sad smile on her face. Y/N shakes her head, “That saying is kicking me in the ass, isn’t it?”

Ten minutes later, Wanda emerges from the bathroom, screeching in frustration from Bucky’s texts in the group chat. Y/N tries her best to tell Wanda that she’s over it, but Wanda is strangely good at reading people (it doesn’t help that she’s also a psychology major). The girls usually love Wanda’s weird sixth sense, but Y/N couldn’t help but find it quite inconvenient at this very moment.

Half an hour after that, Steve arrives at the girls’ apartment, this time without Peggy. The first thing he does is wrap Y/N in a bear hug, despite her protests at everyone making a big deal out of it. Steve doesn’t care, only hugs her tighter.

The four of them huddle around the TV, watching whatever movie was next on their queue and catching up on life. They tried really hard to ignore the awkward tension and the lack of the Bucky-ness the group had. It was movie night, after all. The perfect bubble that was their movie night felt a little different than it normally had.

---

Bucky misses movie nights for the next few weeks.

With the end of junior year approaching, the group of friends rarely had time to socialize outside their study groups except for their weekly tradition. With Bucky gone doing whatever Bucky was doing, Y/N didn’t see him for weeks on end. The only interaction they had was the occasional meme being sent to the group chat or like on Instagram.

She missed him. But deep down inside of her, she wasn’t that all surprised.

What did surprise her was Bucky’s sudden appearance at their last movie night before the end of junior year.

They were halfway through their first movie—Wanda was teaching Peggy how to braid a flower crown, Steve had agreed to let Natasha paint his nails a red and blue ombre while he played a game of Connect Four with Y/N, all while a random movie played on the screen—when they heard the front door unlock.

“Sorry I’m late!” called a voice. It was distinctly Bucky’s, but the female giggle that followed was not.

Bucky and an unnamed blonde materialize in the living room and everyone looks at the pair in shock. Y/N could feel a few of her friend’s stares be redirected to her, but she can’t seem to overt her eyes from the blonde.

Her hair seemed like it was literally golden as it flows down her light-green sundress. She was wrapped around Bucky’s arm—the arm with his tattoo sleeve on it, the arm that she loved tracing the patterns of the tattoo with during movie night.

Peggy breaks the ice first, “Hi, Bucky.”

“Oh, you have an accent!” the blonde squeals and Y/N can feel her eyes roll. Wanda scoffs beside her.

“Bucky, can I talk to you for a sec?” Y/N asks, more like demands, as she stands up abruptly and walks briskly past Bucky towards the hall, away from the view of the living room.

Once they were out of earshot from their friends, she hisses, “What are you doing here?”

Bucky laughs almost mockingly, “What do you mean, ‘what am I doing here?, It’s movie night, isn’t it?”

Y/N sighs tiredly, “Bucky, we haven’t seen you for weeks. Then, you show up with some blonde girl that we’ve never met?”

“I’ve been busy. What, am I not allowed to be busy anymore? The world doesn’t revolve around movie night,” Bucky snarls at her.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, that’s not what I meant and you fucking know it,” she growls back. “You’ve been radio silent for weeks—you pretty much ghosted all of us. Hell, if it wasn’t for Steve living with you, we would’ve thought you were fucking dead! But we gave you space because we aren’t helicopter-friends. But then, you show up after ignoring us for weeks with some chick I’ve never seen before at my fucking house on fucking movie night?! Can you see why I’m a little pissed off right now?”

“The British chick is here! Why the hell can she be here but not Dolores?” Bucky bites back, his voice rising.

“Because Peggy was invited to my house and Dolores fucking wasn’t!” Y/N says aggressively, her voice nearing a shout.

“This isn’t your tradition, Y/N. You want to control everything about this friend group and trust me, sweetheart, we’re all getting sick of it.”

“Oh, you can’t fucking do that.”

“Do what?”

“Talk like you’re still a fucking part of this friend group.”

“What, you’re gonna kick me out of your clique because I’ve been busy? Because I have a life?”

“No, because you’ve been a shitty fucking friend!” Y/N shouts, chest heaving, and face red.

Bucky’s eyes widen in shock. Sure, they’ve had points in their friendship where they haven’t communicated in a few days, but never this long. And Y/N had most certainly never been this angry with him before.

That seemed to knock some sense back into him. “Y/N—”

“Get the fuck out, Bucky.”

“Wha—”

“I said get out,” she says, eerily quiet.

So, he did. Bucky stormed out of the hallway and grabbed Dolores before marching out of the apartment. When Y/N sat back down with the rest of their friends, she could feel their stares burning into her face, but all she did was reach for the remote and continue playing the movie.

---

After Y/N’s argument with Bucky, he stops showing up game nights. They even make a new group chat without Bucky in it (because apparently, kicking him out of the apartment was fine but kicking him out of the group chat was too mean). Despite not really knowing what exactly was said, everyone understood what happened that night. To be frank, they were all waiting for someone to snap. A confrontation with him was long overdue.

The friend group is different without Bucky’s presence. Not better, not worse, just different.

It was clear that there would be awkward tension among the friends immediately after the argument. Wanda and Nat immediately sided with Y/N and clearly wanted nothing to do with Bucky. Steve was a trickier subject. Wanda, Nat, and Y/N all understood that they couldn’t force Steve not to be friends with him, so they all accepted him as their neutral party.

After a few months, their different was starting to feel normal.

But Y/N still missed Bucky. Despite her years of pining, Bucky was still her best friend. He was still the guy who walked her to her morning lectures after his run and got her wine drunk after a guy rejected her. Y/N missed that version of Bucky—she just wasn’t sure if he existed anymore.

Based on periodic updates that Steve gives her, Bucky is still with Dolores. “He’s happy,” Steve tells her. “Different, but happy.”

After a few months of living without Bucky in her life, she starts to blame herself. Had she been overreacting? Most probably. Did she really need to kick him out of her apartment? No.

“Was what you did justified though? Definitely,” Steve would always remind her. Some days she believes him, some days she doesn’t.

Still, her life begins to reach some semblance of normal. Movie nights are still once a week, but they’ve changed from a place where they have pseudo-therapy sessions lead by Wanda while a cheesy movie plays in the background.

It was about halfway into their senior year when Steve drops something on them during one of their movie night conversations.

“I might move to London,” Steve says out of the blue.

“What?” Y/N turns to him in shock.

Steve stares blankly at his lap, fidgeting with the nearly empty glass of red wine. “Peggy wants to move back to London after we graduate,” he says softly. “She wants me to go with her.”

It was Wanda’s turn to ask, “Well, why doesn’t she stay here with you?”

“Her family’s in London.”

“And your family is here, Steve,” Y/N replies softly, “We’re here.”

Steve sighs and runs a hand over his face before releasing a frustrated cry, “I don’t know what to do, guys.”

Natasha looks at him sympathetically before grasping his hand tightly, “Have you talked to Bucky about this?”

“Not yet…he’s got a lot on his plate right now,” Steve starts, warily looking at the girls sitting around him.

“What do you mean?” Natasha presses.

“Bucky proposed to Dolores a few days ago…” Steve sighs.

“Well…” Y/N starts, trying to find the right words, “Congrats to them.”

“Yeah,” Steve replies lamely before downing the remainder of his red wine. “I love Peggy, I really do,” Steve starts, “but I don’t know if London is right for me.”

Y/N raises an eyebrow at him, “What do you mean?”

Steve sighs again, “I don’t know how to explain it but…lately it feels like our relationship isn’t real anymore⁠—like she’s using me as a prop. It feels like she’s dragging me along because she feels like she has to. I really do love her but going to London with her just doesn’t feel right.”

“And what does feel right, Steve?” Wanda asks him gently.

Steve answer in a heartbeat, “New York. With you guys.”

Y/N offers him her kindest eyes. She murmurs softly, “Steve, I think you have your answer then.”

---

Steve stayed in New York.

He was a little heartbroken by Peggy’s reaction though; she simply acknowledged him and went straight back to packing, not even bothering to fight for their relationship. Maybe there wasn’t a whole lot to fight for after all.

Bucky also married Dolores.

After their graduation, Bucky and Dolores eloped. They didn’t want the pressure of an actual wedding, so they got on a flight to Vegas and got hitched in their graduation gowns. The reassured everyone (especially their parents) that they would have a real wedding for everyone else afterwards.

Y/N, Wanda, and Natasha finally got their own places. Wanda was moving in with her brother, Pietro, into an apartment in Morningside Heights. They were both starting their master’s at Columbia (Wanda in psychology and Pietro in exercise physiology), so they wanted to live closer together. Natasha was finally moving in with her boyfriend, Bruce. They were a very private couple, so they weren’t at all surprised when they told them that they were moving into their own place in Park Slope, close to Bruce’s research job and Nat’s marketing firm.

Y/N was really close to downsizing to a studio when Steve rolled his eyes and told her, “Don’t be an idiot, I’ll move in with you. That place is too nice to give up. Besides, Bucky and Dolores are looking for a place to move into.”

So, what was once Y/N, Wanda, and Nat’s apartment was now Y/N and Steve’s.

Not much changed about the apartment: Y/N kept her old room and Steve moved into Wanda’s. Natasha’s room had the most natural light, so they turned it into an office. Steve, Y/N learned, was the ideal roommate—his stuff was never messy, he helped run errands, and he was a delight to be around.

If it was possible for the two best friends to get any closer, they did.

Y/N fell into an easy routine with Steve, almost like it was second nature. After both taking the summer off, Steve started his law degree at Columbia and Y/N started her job as a Staff Writer at the New York Times.

They woke up at around seven and Steve got started on breakfast while Y/N used the bathroom first. As soon as she got out, breakfast would be waiting for her, so she got started on making coffee for her and Steve. Steve didn’t usually take long in the bathroom, so they ate breakfast together, enjoying each other’s company before their day started. After they both got dressed, they both walked to the subway and rode the L train before they had to split ways: Steve Uptown to Columbia and Y/N to the New York Times building. Steve usually got out of classes first, so he usually ran some errands for the place or studied in a café in the Village somewhere so to let Y/N get home before he did. She loved making dinner, so Steve usually came home to her blasting music and cooking.

The funniest part about their arrangement is that it was barely an arrangement: they didn’t really agree on splitting up their day this way. It just sort of…happened. It was natural but it felt right to the both of them and that’s all they could ever ask for.

The arbitrary lines of being roommates slowly began disappearing as well.

Four months into living together, Y/N and Steve started sharing a bed.

It wasn’t romantic, but more like a necessity. Steve had walked by Y/N’s room when he heard slight whimpering. He immediately swung open the door and found her lying on her bed, clutching her stomach in pain with tears streaming down her face.

Steve immediately lost his composure, “Y/N? Are you okay?!”

“It fucking hurts Steve,” she mumbles, “Why does bleeding out of your vagina fucking hurt so much?”

Steve’s eyes immediately soften and he lets out a low hum, “Y/N, I thought you were dying.”

“I am dying. This heat pad isn’t doing shit!”

Steve laughs and makes his way to the bed, lifting the covers and sliding beside her. Y/N immediately shifts so that Steve can be more comfortable. He wraps his arms around her, making sure to put his palm flat on her stomach. In the mess of tangled limbs, they fall asleep like that and take the most relaxing nap of their lives.

Steve shares a bed Y/N that night. And the night after that. And the night after that.

Soon, Steve barely slept in his old room anymore. It got to a point where it didn’t even make sense for him to have his own room: Y/N’s room was bigger, closer to the bathroom, had a comfier bed, and Y/N was in it.

The two spend a weekend clearing out Steve’s new room and moving all his stuff into Y/N’s. They turn they put the grey IKEA pullout couch inside along with an array of painting supplies and camera equipment, effectively turning it into a home studio. They like the apartment better this way.

A few months later, the two get a dog together. The mini Australian Shepard has a gorgeous coat, different coloured eyes, and a scar that stretches across his face, a reminder as to why they rescued him in the first place. The renamed him Mando (because his face reminded them of the Mandalorian helmet) and he was like their child. He was full of energy, so Steve loved brining him along for runs in the park. But he was also quiet, reserved, and sensitive so Y/N adored cuddling with him on the couch.

It was their own little family. Steve, Y/N, and Mando.

Movie nights were still a weekly occurrence, but it wasn’t always at their place anymore. Almost six months after Steve moved in with Y/N, they hosted movie night at their place again.

It wasn’t as if Wanda and Natasha hadn’t seen Y/N and Steve since then, but it was the first time they really felt the changes in their old place.

“You redecorated,” Nat commented with a smile. She noticed there were more pictures up: some of their entire friend group, some of just Y/N and Steve. There was also a hanging shelf above the TV (something that Y/N had always talked about installing but never did) that housed some pottery and other knick-knacks Y/N and Steve have collected over the years.

Wanda notices the dog crate and bed in the corner of the living room, along with a basket of toys for the dog. She asks, “Where’s Mando?”

“Steve took him when he went to get the takeout. He likes to cuddle if that’s what you’re asking, Wanda,” Y/N answers amusedly.

“Whathcu do with our old rooms?” Nat hums as she takes a seat on their new couch. She wondered where the grey IKEA one went; it was unlikely that Y/N had the heart to throw it away.

Y/N sits down beside her holding three wine glasses and a bottle of red wine. She pops the cork and pours them all a drink before saying, “We turned your old room into an office and Wanda’s into an art studio slash guest bedroom. That’s where the grey pullout went.” Y/N finished her sentence absentmindedly, almost like she didn’t realize the implication she made.

Wanda and Nat smirk at each other.

Nat takes a sip of her wine before nonchalantly saying, “You know, I always knew you and Steve would end up together.”

Y/N chokes on her wine, “I’m sorry…what?”

Wanda chuckles at her, “You live together, you share a bed, you got a dog.”

Y/N hums nervously, “We’re not dating.”

“Seems like you’re already married if you ask me,” Wanda counters with a smirk.

Before Y/N could get any more embarrassed, the front door opened and Mando came bolting inside, followed by Steve who laughed as the dog jumped on the couch and licked its occupants.

“Oh, Mando you’re so cute,” Wanda gushed before she immediately became occupied and played with Mando.

Natasha looked on with a knowing smirk as Y/N watched Steve approach, both wearing matching smiles, and Steve presses a kiss on her forehead.

“I got Lo Mein if that’s okay. I tried to make it to the pizza place, but I guess Mando likes the smell of Chinese,” Steve says quietly to her before setting the takeout on the coffee table beside the glasses of wine.

She smiles at him, “That’s okay, thanks for grabbing it anyways.”

“I figured you wanted time with the girls to catch up,” Steve shrugs before hopping over the back of the couch to sit next to you.

As the movie started and everyone started eating their serving of food and wine, Y/N assumed the natural position of leaning against Steve’s chest with his arm thrown around the back of the couch. The smell of his cologne is so synonymous with safety to Y/N, so she naturally leans closer to him.

Halfway through the first movie, Y/N catches Nat staring at her and Steve with a smirk. Nat sends a wink her way which sends Y/N’s face in a red flush.

She averts her eyes and looks back at the movie. We are not dating, Y/N thinks to herself, this is just natural.

---

It was about a year after Y/N and Steve started living together when they both got invitations to Bucky and Dolores' wedding.

Their group chat was blowing up with questions like ‘should we even go to the wedding?’ and ‘won’t it be awkward for everyone involved?’

Steve already knew that he was going. Despite everything, Bucky was still like his brother. They still saw each other almost weekly and although he wasn’t Dolores’ biggest fan just through negative association, he was happy that Bucky was immensely happy.

Y/N, on the other hand, needed more convincing.

“Jesus, I wish he never invited me to his goddamn wedding,” Y/N complained, her head buried in Steve’s shoulder as they sat on the couch, “Is this his version of a punishment? The anxiety of choosing whether or not I should come to his wedding?”

Steve rubbed her shoulder comfortingly, “Y/N, he did use to be your best friend.”

“Before I told him to get out of my life and that I never wanted to see him again,” she states bluntly. “God, I was so fucking stupid.”

“Hey,” Steve says firmly, “The both of you were acting pretty stupid, we’ve established that. But you’ve grown up. Bucky did invite you, which means he wants you to come.”

Y/N stays silent as Steve continues, “I know you miss him, Y/N. And clearly, he misses you too. Maybe this is your first step at mending your friendship.”

“If there’s anything left of it,” Y/N says pathetically.

“You won’t know if you don’t go to the wedding.”

So, she ends up going to the wedding.

The actual ceremony went by in a blur. Dolores was wearing a beautiful gown with gorgeous floral lace and Bucky in a wonderfully fitted velvet suit. Y/N thought the first time she would see Bucky in years would be filled with melancholy, but Y/N just felt better that Steve (from beside the groom) was sending her reassuring smiles the entire ceremony.

The couple was technically already married, so they didn’t have a licensed officiant. Instead, they had an array of friends, including Steve, the best man, say different parts of the pre-made script. It was fun, lighthearted, and had Bucky written all over it—something that Y/N missed about him the most.

At the reception, she took advantage of the open bar. She spent her time socializing with Natasha, Wanda, and Sam, a mutual friend who became an Air Force officer straight out of college. The night was still young, so Steve spent most of his time with the wedding party, occasionally sending Y/N texts like:

Steve: Miss you!

Steve: How many drinks have you had so far?

Steve: You made sure to lock Mando’s crate, right?

Steve: Did I tell you that you looked rlly pretty tonight?

Steve: I can’t wait until everyone gets drunk so I can hang out w you :)

“Texting at my wedding? I thought you loved parties, Y/N,” a recognizable voice says amusedly.

Y/N’s head snaps up and she’s met with a face that she hasn’t seen in years.

“Bucky—”

Bucky cuts her off, “Before you say anything, I’m sorry. You were right, I was being a really shitty friend and I didn’t have the right to ignore you, yell at you, or just bring random people into your home like I owned the place. I just…really missed you. You’re my best friend and my life hasn’t really been the same without you.”

Y/N is rendered speechless. Her mind blanks as she stares into Bucky’s watery eyes, begging for forgiveness. She says nothing and instead wraps her arms around Bucky, pulling him close. The man immediately wraps his arms around her like they’ve never left.

After the wedding, Bucky starts to show up to movie night again.

It takes a whole lot of coaxing to let Natasha and Wanda allow Bucky back into their lives, but eventually, they come around. It wasn’t like college though, but it was nice, nonetheless. One night, Bucky revealed that movie nights are when he feels the most like himself again. The rest of them smile wordlessly at him, but confusion does seep into the back of their minds.

A year since the wedding, the group finally fully accepts Bucky back into their lives as if he never left. He catches up with Natasha during impromptu lunches, takes Wanda to dinner if she’s ever in Midtown, watches the Yankees play with Steve to take his mind off of law school, and drops lunch off to Y/N at the New York Times building if he’s in the area.

Bucky truly misses his friends, but somewhere deep in his heart, he misses Y/N a little bit more.

The rest of them also notice how little Bucky talks about Dolores when they’re together.

They found it strange at first; normally, husbands loved talking about their wives. But Bucky never brought her to their outings, to movie night (despite everyone insisting that they’d be happy to have her over), and rarely brought her up in conversation unless asked.

Y/N found it especially strange. In a mature attempt to move on from her college crush on Bucky, she tried to make amends with Dolores. Turns out, the blonde was an adorable girl from Brooklyn that absolutely adores Bucky. She’s sensitive but hilarious and Y/N loves spending time with her.

She also noticed how much Dolores talked about Bucky. It was clear how much she adored him, so it was almost unfathomable to her how Bucky didn’t talk about the wonderful woman nearly as much as she talked about him.

“Don’t you find it a little weird?” Y/N asked him as he was brushing his teeth. Steve was concentrated on her face despite toothpaste foaming around his mouth. Y/N sat on the bathroom counter, feet swinging as she absentmindedly played with an elastic.

Steve spit in the sink before speaking, “I mean, you know Buck. He’s a pretty private guy.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t shut up about crazy stories he’s had with you and Bucky loves you. I just find it a little funky that he doesn’t act the same with Dolores,” Y/N explained.

Steve sighs and gargles the rest of the toothpaste out of his mouth. “I guess I never thought about it that way… They have only been married for a little over two years though. Maybe they’re still figuring out the ropes of their marriage?”

Y/N shrugs with a sigh, hopping off the counter and stripping off her shirt and pants. Steve tries his hardest not to stare but he can’t help but stare at the curve of her body as she reaches to slip on one of his hoodies she likes to wear for bed.

Steve isn’t really sure where his relationship with Y/N stands, to be honest. It’s funny to him—they act like an actual married couple, minus the romance. Acting domesticated with her just feels so natural to Steve, but he’s scared putting a label on anything will change the dynamic, so he stays silent and cherishes the domestic moments he has with her.

“You’re right, I’m probably overthinking it,” Y/N mumbles before slipping past him, “I’m headed off to bed. Don’t take too long.”

Y/N doesn’t notice Steve’s hard blush as he scrambles to put on some pyjamas to join her in bed.

---

“I’m nervous.”

“Jesus, Steve. You’ll be fine! You’re the top of your class at fucking Columbia, so there’s no way you failed the bar,” Y/N cheers on excitedly from behind him. She rubs his shoulders as he stares at his inbox, too afraid to click on the email titled ‘New York State Bar Exam Results.’

Steve’s foot taps incessantly, “I’m still too scared to look.”

Y/N reaches over his shoulder and kisses his cheek. “Fine,” she says, “I’ll look for you.” She clicks on the email and scrolls down, searching for Steve’s exam number.

After a few seconds, Y/N hesitantly asks, “Steve?”

“Mhmm?” he replies, his head in his hands.

“What’s your exam number again?”

“S-24601,” he replies quickly.

Y/N squeals and hugs him from the back, pressing kisses all over his neck. “You fucking passed, Steve!” she squeals.

“I did?!”

“Of course you did, dummy!”

Steve laughs in excitement and disbelief, grabbing Y/N by the waist and spinning her off the ground. Mando barks excitedly, jumping up happily against Steve’s thighs.

“You did it!” Y/N smiles down at him, her cheeks hurting from all her laughing.

The two celebrate by hosting movie night at their place with extra food, desserts, and ridiculous amounts of alcohol. Wanda brings Vis, the high school chemistry teacher she’s been seeing, Nat brings Bruce, and Bucky finally comes around and brings Dolores along for the celebration. Even Sam, who happened to be off duty, was able to come to the celebration.

Despite it technically being movie night, most of the night was spent trading funny stories about Steve, emptying bottles and bottles of wine and beer, and finally letting loose for the first time in a long time.

Around ten in the evening, the board games came out and the group of twenty-somethings started playing games with a drinking twist. Y/N had been attached to Steve by the hip all night (largely because he always seemed to have his arms around her), but she couldn’t complain. The several glasses of wine she had did make it easier for her to ignore Wanda and Natasha’s smirks.

It also made it easier for her to be ignorant of how awkward Dolores felt at the gathering. Y/N sincerely like the girl, but she was unaware of her discomfort until around one in the morning. Most people had left, and it was just Steve, Y/N, and Bucky cleaning up.

“Y/N, I’m gonna take a quick shower,” Steve calls out to Y/N as she washes the dishes with Bucky picking up trash in the living room. “Goodnight Bucky!” Steve calls out before disappearing.

“Goodnight, Steve,” Bucky shouts back before walking into the kitchen. He leans against the counter and watches Y/N as she does the dishes. Y/N notices his presence, then notices the lack of someone else’s presence.

“Hey Buck, where’d Dolores run off to?” Y/N hums, drying the last of the dishes.

Bucky shrugs, “Took an Uber and went home early.”

Y/N turns around to face him, “Shit, Buck. You didn’t have to stay—”

“Nah, I wanted to. She’s probably fine,” he answers nonchalantly.

“Probably?”

Bucky doesn’t respond.

Y/N takes a deep breath and fiddles with the dishtowel in her hands before saying, “Bucky, why is this the first time in three years of marriage that Dolores has come to a friend get together?”

Bucky’s jaw unhinges a little, “What do you mean?”

Y/N sighs and sets the dish towel down. She takes a deep breath before saying, “We’ve asked you to invite her to come over for years, but you always make excuses for her. You don’t nearly talk about her as much as she does about you, and I know that for a fact because I’ve hung out with Dolores on multiple occasions. Bucky…is everything alright between you and Dolores?”

Bucky stares intently at her for a few seconds before his resolve crumbles. His eyes lose its intensity and are replaced with tiredness as he drags his hand across his face. “Dot and I…” Bucky starts, “are going through a bit of a…rough patch.”

“Bucky—”

“I made a mistake marrying her,” he says bluntly.

“What?” Y/N says in shock. Every time she’s spent time with Dolores, she had been nothing but lovely. She’s perfect for Bucky—she doesn’t understand where he’s coming from.

“I love Dolores but I…”

“But…?”

Bucky doesn’t say anything. Instead, he crosses the kitchen floor in two long strides and grabs Y/N by the face, kissing her fiercely.

Y/N freezes and her eyes widen in shock. What the fuck was happening? was the only thing her brain could possibly register at the point.

Bucky pulls away but the grip on her face doesn’t fade, “But I’m in love with you, Y/N. And I know for a fact that you love me too.”

He leans in for another kiss, but Y/N pushes him away. “Bucky stop!” she says, harsher than she intends, but she doesn’t regret it.

Bucky stares at her, dumbfounded, but she continues, “That was a long, long time ago. And Jesus, Bucky you’re married!”

He shakes his head, “I don’t need to be forever—”

“—And you’re drunk!” she explains in exasperation.

“But I know some part of you still loves me. And God, I love you too. All those years without you and it finally got through to my thick skull,” Bucky argues.

“But what about Dolores?” she whispers.

“Fuck Dolores,” he says. Bucky reaches for her again, but Y/N steps away.

“Bucky, I can’t,” Y/N cries. “Maybe there’s some part of me that loves you, that may always love you. But there’s a bigger part of me that loves what I have right now. Bucky, I’ve never felt so safe before. So happy, so cared for, so loved. I know it’s selfish, but I can’t give away the happiness and security that I deserve to explore what my life would be like with you because I love—”

Y/N stops abruptly, her voice catching in her throat.

“Because you love who, Y/N?” Bucky asks. She notices how his eyes have become glassy and how his shoulders had slumped slightly.

Because I love Steve, Y/N thinks. But she doesn’t find the courage to say it. Bucky can see it in her eyes, though.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Bucky doesn’t have to say his name who she’s talking about.

Y/N is silent, her heart thumping so loud her she’s afraid Bucky can hear it.

Her silence is enough for him, “Ah.”

Bucky waits a few more seconds before saying, “When did you know?”

Y/N gulps and lets out a shaky breath. When did she know? She racks her brain but can’t think of a specific time. Part of her thinks that she always knew. She was so natural around Steve. So safe and carefree. Steve was there when that perfect bubble of her friendship with Bucky popped, and he even stayed with her after. He was the one that helped her mend her heart and, in the process, built himself a spot inside without even realizing it. Her imperfect bubble, her lens of the world, may have been broken, but Steve was inside, and Y/N knew that it’s all the really mattered.

I love Steve, she confessed to herself. She felt like she was Cher in Clueless, with the fountain of her emotions erupting inside her. Bucky could clearly see it on her face as he smiled sadly.

“Did I ever have a chance?” he whispers.

“Yeah... A long time ago,” Y/N answers softly, not trusting her voice.

“Will I ever get the chance again?”

Y/N shakes her head softly, “Don’t wait for me, Bucky.”

Bucky smiles sadly at her, a tear escaping his eye. She reaches for him, but Bucky shakes his head, “See you around, Y/N.”

And just like that, he’s gone.

Y/N feels like she’s on autopilot. Adrenaline is still coursing through her system; coupled with alcohol and a whole lot of courage, her feet bring her to the bathroom before even realizing. She doesn’t realize that she’s turning the doorknob or stripping completely. She barely registers her stepping into the steamy shower before and she definitely doesn’t fully register her tapping Steve on the shoulder, reaching up, and kissing him fiercely.

He pulls away first, “Y/N?”

She kisses him in response. This time, he responds but pulls away a few seconds later, “Why are you doing this? Are you drunk?”

“Yeah, it’s not why I’m doing this though,” she says, voice raspy.

“Why then?”

“Because I love you.”

“Oh,” was Steve’s response before kissing her again. The two sloppily make out like teenagers discovering sex for the first time before Steve pulls away again.

“I also love you, you know,” he says lazily against her lips. He feels her smile.

“That’s good,” she replies before kissing him once more.

The night lasts a lot longer than both of them intend. But it wasn’t like they were complaining.

---

Life had a strange way of playing out sometimes.

It seemed as if Y/N and Steve blinked and the rest of their lives fell straight into their laps.

When they meet new people, they always ask them how long they've been together or when they started dating.

“A lifetime ago,” Steve would always say, his eyes lighting up and his face flushing slightly.

After the night that Steve learned he passed the bar, Y/N and Steve’s relationship didn’t change all that much, mostly because they acted like they were married in the first place. They already help hands in public, gave each other kisses on the cheek when their friends were around, and they acted more domesticated than a lot of actual married couples only months after they officially started dating.

In fact, most of their friends didn’t even realize they had started dating until almost six months later, Y/N made an off-hand comment about how Steve was secretly really kinky in bed.

The really didn’t have an engagement either.

After two years of dating, five years of living together, and nine years of knowing each other, Steve just decided to get straight to the point.

“You wanna get married, Y/N?” Steve asked her. He had just come back from his job as a corporate lawyer. He honestly hated it but needed the experience and the money to pay off his student loans. His grand plan after he was no longer drowning in debt was to become an Assistant District Attorney.

Y/N stopped cutting the vegetables and turned toward Steve who was leaning against the fridge, suit jacket slung across one shoulder and top button his dress shirt undone. She raises a brow at him, “Pardon me?”

“You wanna get married?” he repeats nonchalantly.

“Now? I’m making dinner.”

“Whenever you want, doll.”

She sets the knife down and slowly walks towards him. “This isn’t you proposing, is it?” she cackles.

Steve shakes his head and laughs, meeting her halfway. “No, I thought of this while I was riding the subway back home. I don’t even have a ring, honey,” he explains. “If I’m honest, it feels like we’ve been married for the past five years, so I kinda forgot that we aren’t.”

Y/N purses her lips in concentration before saying, “That’s fair.”

Steve stares at her for a few more seconds, “So…?”

“Do you want to get married?” she asks him this time, stepping forward and grasping his hands.

“I mean…yeah,” Steve says with a grin, “Telling people you’re my wife is a lot cooler than telling people you’re my girlfriend. Besides, if I ever commit a crime, you have the right not to testify against me because of marital privilege—”

He’s cut off with howling laughter and Y/N burying her face into his chest as he wraps his arms around her. Steve’s tired, really tired, but coming home to her was what he reminded himself he was working for.

“Should we do the whole proposal thing, too?” Y/N asks him after her laughter dies down.

“I don’t mind proposing if it’s something you want to do,” he tells her, pressing his lips to her head.

“Meh. I don’t really care,” she says cheekily before pressing her lips to his.

After their wedding—just like Y/N and Steve predicted—their lives didn’t change all too much. The only noticeable changes were that they were being addressed as Y/L/N-Rogers in the mail, but their lives were pretty much the same.

Their friends found it fascinating: when they had gotten married, they felt that their relationship dynamic had changed a little. But then again, they supposed Steve and Y/N had been acting like they’ve been married since the ripe age of twenty. It’s almost like they skipped a few steps in their relationship and went from friends to acting like they’ve been married for forty years.

The biggest change in their relationship came three years after their wedding when their twins, Avery and Jameson Y/L/N-Rogers were born into the world.

Steve and Y/N were natural parents and they loved their kids. When the twins were three, they took them on their first road trip to the Adirondacks. They spent the weekend at a lakefront cabin, swimming, canoeing, and hiking. When asked years later, the twins would always explain that this was their first memory. At four, the twins started school, and to say Y/N and Steve were worried would be a huge lie. They knew Avery and Jameson would protect each other no matter what. At age seven, a boy on the playground called Avery an ‘ugly liar’, and Jameson threw sand in his face. Steve gave Jameson a scolding about how it was bad to throw sand at people and instead saying that if he was going to throw something, throw a punch instead.

Y/N had to step in and tell him not to do that unless it was a last resort.

At twelve, Jameson had his first real crush on a girl named Mindy. But, Avery knew that Mindy was mean and the daughter of an entitled Karen, so when Jameson asked Mindy if she wanted to dance with her at the school dance, Avery made sure to scare her straight.

“My daddy is a lawyer and sends criminals to prison and my mommy works for the New York Times. So, if you hurt James, everyone will know how mean you actually are are,” Avery threatened, which made Mindy back out of dancing with Jameson. Despite being mad when he was twelve, he was thankful years later when he saw firsthand what kind of teenager Mindy would become.

Now at sixteen, though the two twins were still thick as thieves, they matured into respectable, and frankly perfect kids.

That year, the Fourth of July (aka Steve’s birthday) fell the same night as movie night and the twins took it upon themselves to plan their dad’s party.

“Avery? James? You doin’ alright?” Y/N called from the upper floor of their brownstone in Park Slope, Brooklyn. When it was obvious that Avery and Jameson were at the age that they couldn’t share a bedroom anymore, Steve convinced Y/N to move back to Brooklyn. It wasn’t the difficult, per se, especially when Steve found a place close to where Natasha and her now-husband Bruce lived.

“Doin’ just fine, Mom!” Avery calls back. She was busy frosting the good-old Stars and Stripes cake while James finished the last-minute decorations.

Just then, Y/N heard a thud before some soft moaning. She gasped, already halfway down the stairs. “Are you okay? Do you need help? Screw your surprise, I’m com—”

“No!” James shouted, quickly sitting up, “I just fell off a stool, Mom. No big deal, you don’t need to come downstairs.”

“Are you su—”

“Yep! This is supposed to be a surprise!” James calls back.

“A surprise for your dad, not for me Jameson.”

Avery cackles from the kitchen and James rolls his eyes at her. “We’re fine, I promise,” he reassures her.

“Okay, just be done before everyone gets here. Bucky’s stalling your dad for as long as possible but I know he’ll want to come home soon.”

When Y/N is finally allowed downstairs, she’s impressed with their work. Red, white, and blue streamers are hung all across the ceiling as well as helium balloons that say ‘Happy Birthday America!’ except America is crossed out with Sharpie and ‘Steve Rogers’ is written in her kids’ handwriting instead. In the living room, several games are put out on the coffee table and a playlist full of patriotic movies is ready to be played on the TV. All her friends (minus Bucky and Steve) are in the living room, having a laugh at all the funny touches on the decorations. Their dining table was filled with food their friends brought for the potluck, and for some reason, James had blasted (and looped) a remix of the Star-Spangled Banner and Happy Birthday.

“Do you like it, Mom?” Y/N hears before turning around and facing her kids. Avery’s hand was grasped in James’ and her heart melts. How did I get so lucky? she asks herself.

She gives them a huge smile before enveloping both of them into a hug. “It’s amazing. Better than anything I could’ve done, that’s for sure.”

“Do you think, Dad’ll like it?” James mumbles into her shoulder.

“HOLY FUCKING SHIT!” a voice suddenly shouts. The three pull apart to find Steve standing at the entrance of the living room with a huge grin on his face. Bucky stands behind him, chuckling at his reaction.

Y/N’s smile widens at the sight of her husband. “There’s your answer, James.”

The party is everything Steve could have really asked for. The food was great, his company was even better, and the thoughtfulness of his kids was enough to bring tears to his eyes.

When the night gets darker, the party of people head to the roof of the building so they can watch the fireworks. As they wait, Avery has everyone engrossed in a story of how James followed her on a date with a boy she really liked, Peter Parker. Steve stood at the edge of the crowd, smiling at how happy his kids and his wife looked. He feels a presence beside him and doesn’t need to look to know who it is.

“You did pretty great, Steve,” Bucky tells him softly.

“With Avery and James?” he asks.

“With life, buddy.”

Steve hums contently as the two of them watch Avery cause a bubble of laughter to erupt from the group. James punches her playfully on the arm, but the smile is still evident on his face.

“How’s Steph?” Steve asks him.

“She’s good. She’s with her mom for the weekend,” Bucky answers quietly.

“And how are you and Dolores?”

Bucky is silent for a few seconds. He clears his throat before saying, “Talking. We’re trying to work it out for Steph’s sake. She doesn’t deserve to have a broken family.”

Steve puts a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, Buck. You’re a good father,” he tells his best friend.

Bucky remains silent. After a few minutes of silence, Bucky’s conscious drowns him in guild and he speaks up, “I kissed Y/N when we were younger. It was the night you learned you passed the bar. I told her I thought I made a mistake marrying Dolores, and shit…I don’t even know what I was thinking because I knew she probably loved you. I’m so sorry, Steve. I never told you because you’re my best friend and—”

“Bucky,” Steve cuts him off with a small, sympathetic smile, “It’s okay. I know.”

Bucky’s brows shoot up. “You know?” he asks.

Steve nods, “Y/N told me. Y/N tells me everything.”

Bucky exhales, “Ah.”

“I’m not mad,” Steve tells him.

“You’re not?”

“I am married to her and still best friends with you, aren’t I?”

Bucky chuckles and looks down. He doesn’t deserve Steve, Bucky thinks. But he’s damn grateful a guy like him is in his life. “I’m still sorry,” he says.

“It’s okay, Bucky. I mean it,” Steve says, giving his shoulder a squeeze.

The two stand in comfortable silence when the fireworks finally start to go off. The roof glows with red light and Steve can’t help but admire how beautiful Y/N looks with the glow of light on her skin. Avery has her head on Y/N’s shoulder while Jameson has an arm wrapped around her torso. Steve notices Bucky admiring his family too.

“You know,” Steve starts, “she loved you when we were younger. I actually thought the two of you would be great together and wanted her to ask you out. She was about to.”

Bucky looks at him. “Really,” he asks suspiciously.

“Mhmm,” Steve hums, still looking at the fireworks. “And did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Love her?”

Bucky is silent. He stares at Steve’s side profile; he’s still staring up at the fireworks without a care in the world.

Bucky sighs and answers honestly, “All throughout college, even when I was with Dolores. But guessing by your reaction, I think you already knew that.”

Steve finally glances in his direction, “I’m your best friend. Of course, I knew.”

“Did I ever have a chance with her?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, finally looking at Bucky, “once you did.”

Bucky sighs, “How’d you do it? How’d you find someone you love so naturally?”

Steve shakes his head, his eyes trained on his wife and his kids. They looked so happy, living in their own little bubble. Steve smiles softly before saying, “I stuck around.”

Bucky nods wordlessly before turning his attention back to the fireworks above. Steve continues to stare at his family when Y/N turns around and catches his gaze. Despite the night sky, her eyes are bright and filled with joy and love.

Steve smiles widely at her.

And in their own imperfect, but beautiful bubble, Y/N smiles back.

---

steve rogers taglist: @milea

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sickybubbies · 5 years ago

Text

Golden and Pretty..

Sorry this took so long loves, enjoy this from both me and @moonjoonlanding ... such a star! enjoy~~ 🥺💜💜

Desc: Jungkook drinks two litres of golden and pretty beer happily, however the moment of bliss doesn’t last long, he caves to his leader hyung.

Pairing: NamKook.

TW: Emeto

it isn’t fun anymore, jungkook thinks as he struggles to lock the door behind himself. it had stopped being fun a while ago. now, his stomach is churning, full of too much alcohol and not enough food and everything feels distorted and spinny and bad.

he feels really, really bad. the about-to-throw-up kind of bad. and he feels guilty too. he feels guilty because when he’d gone out earlier, it had been with the promise that he’d be responsible, that he wouldn’t drink too much and that he’d be fine to dance tomorrow. at this point, jungkook’s pretty sure that dancing is not on the table for tomorrow. (although, it may have been tonight. he’s honestly not sure. things are a little hazy.)

his body jerks with the force of a hiccup and his belly rolls discontentedly in response. jungkook keens softly and shuffles forward, clumsily making his way through the dorm. he comes to a stop in front of namjoon’s door and knocks, leaning on the frame for support.

”hyung,” he slurs, ”don’t be mad at me,” jungkook fiddles with the doorknob, ”i didn’t… i don’t… hmm,” he cuts himself off with another hiccup and a quiet groan.

namjoon grumbles at the constant tweaking of his doorknob, it’s as if someone is grazing their nails against the surface of the sphere and it’s beginning to irk him. he decides that it’s one of the maknaes playing tricks on his sleep-deprived mind.

he yawns hugely, stretching his arms and rubbing his eyes as he shuffles out of bed. sliding to his door, he opens it without much thought and a look of shock and confusion plasters his features, “kook?”

jungkook waits with his head tipped back against the wood, feeling miserable and swallowing increasingly bitter tasting saliva while muffling the occasional hiccup. it catches him off guard a bit when namjoon is suddenly there and the door just isn’t. he stumbles slightly and reaches for namjoon to steady himself.

”hyung,” he moans sadly.

namjoon frowns, gazing at the time. he holds onto jungkook’s shoulders firmly, letting out a sigh, “i’m not even gonna ask what you’ve been up to.” he holds him, his head ducks innocently against the taller man’s arm “it’s pretty obvious, kid.”

namjoon leads the whimsy boy into the bathroom, flicking on the light as he does so and holding him over the bowl (because kookie looks like he’s about to toss his cookies with a blow). “sit or stand? i want to make sure that you’re comfortable,” he mutters in his ear, so he’s heard.

jungkook just groans and sinks to the floor, ”dizzy,” he complains, ”i don’t like this.”

he stares at the water at the bottom of the bowl, feeling more and more tense as the seconds tick by. the only other times he’s been drunk, it’s been around the members and he’s never felt this horrible afterward. he had never drunk so much at once, though, and thinking about it, he feels his breath quicken in his throat.

”i didn’t mean to,” he blurts, feeling the sudden need to explain himself. ”hyung, i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to. hyung told me to be careful and i didn’t listen and i don’t feel good and-” he sucks in a breath, ”i don’t like it!” he finishes, voice rising in pitch until he sounds a little hysterical. his fingers tremble where they try to grip the porcelain.

namjoon sighs, he crouches down next to the youngest and gives a few comforting pats in between his shoulder blades. “shh, relax, it’s okay. it’s okay, kook,” he soothes– or tries to since namjoon is very awkward in these aspects. he isn’t the designated vomit-dealing member either. he gnaws his lip. had jungkook not been so consumed in his panic, it’d better to call seokjin or yoongi, he thinks. “just focus on puking it all up for me, alright? so you can feel better afterwards,” he manages rather softly.

jungkook sniffles a little and holds his bloated tummy, feeling everything bubble sluggishly under his palm. his stomach squeezes then and he curls forward, letting his mouth fall open. saliva drips down into the bowl and he watches, too nauseous to feel overly grossed out.

his stomach clenches again and jungkook’s shoulders roll forward with a heave. he manages to hold it back for a moment, but another gag has his cheeks puffing out as his mouth fills with sick. jungkook swallows rapidly, bringing a hand to his lips, but it’s too late.

the taste of the vomit has him retching hard and a wave of entirely liquid gushes out of him. most of it misses the toilet, coating his hand and splashing over the seat and lid and onto the tile floor. he gasps when it ends, only to burp up another huge wave.

“how much did you even drink, jungkook?!” namjoon bites down a yelp, he’s stunned by the copious amounts of sick being brought up. jungkook merely answers with a gurgle and another awful heave. “uh okay, i’m sorry, don’t answer that, just… just keep doing it till you’re okay, bunny,” he rambles a bit, massaging in between the maknae’s shoulders and resorting to lightly pounding on his back.

he takes a wad of tissue paper and wipes down jungkook’s hand from the warm mess. grabbing hold of it, he squeezes tightly, “breathe, kook-ah, breathe, you’re okay,” he coaxes. his trousers are probably soiled from the puke below him, but the leader couldn’t care less.

jungkook tries to follow namjoon’s instructions, but his belly has other ideas and as soon as he takes a breath, he finds himself choking on more puke. his coughs echo in the bowl and he clutches desperately at namjoon’s hand as vomit continues to pour out of him.

finally, his stomach settles enough for him to clear his throat without gagging immediately after. jungkook winces at the sting of it and swallows. he eases himself to sit back on his heels and uses his free hand to wipe his watering eyes.

”hyung,” he mumbles, voice gravelly and thick, on the verge of actual tears.

namjoon gives an indistinct hum, flushing the contents down, “i’m right here, kook. what do you need?” he wraps his arms around the younger’s chest, giving it soft rubs.

jungkook slumps into him, ”everything’s still spinning,” he cries, ”wan’ it to stop.” he screws his eyes shut and turns to rest his forehead against namjoon’s neck, seeking something solid, ”my stomach still feels sick,” he adds.

“i bet you it does, kookie. that was so much alcohol, sweetheart,” namjoon murmurs while skimming his hands through the boy’s locks. he physically feels his heart melt and pour out of his skin at the pitiful whimpers that escape his lips.

jungkook shrugs and stays pressed against his hyung’s chest for a while, enjoying the warm feeling of security it brings, being close to someone he admires so deeply. eventually, his muscles start to relax and he droops tiredly. ”’m never drinking again,” he yawns.

“no, doesn’t look like i’m letting you drink any time soon, bunny,” namjoon chuckles lowly, knowing that statement from him would be very short-lived. “let’s get you to bed, yeah? it’s way comfier than the floor, i promise,” he uses all his strength to haul the vocalist off the floor, god! when did the maknae get so big?

jungkook flails and clutches onto namjoon, his head and stomach not appreciating the sudden change in elevation. ”hyungie,” he whines in mild protest, drawing out the last syllable with a pout on his lips.

“i know, kookie, i know.” namjoon doesn’t know. all he knows is the poor boy must feel terrible, it’s pretty evident from how his stomach rumbles under his fingers as he helps jungkook into bed.

soon joining him under the covers, he wraps his arms around the smaller boy. cuddling close, he looks so tiny, namjoon thinks. so tiny, yet so big, at times like this namjoon wants to be the knight in shining armour and shield his baby from everyone, even if it’s his own stomach.

jungkook’s tummy lets out another sickening gurgle and it makes the older grimace, slipping his hand under his tee and rubbing warm circles onto his bloated tummy. namjoon sighs once jungkook falls asleep, he lets sleep consume him too after kissing his head.

jungkook blinks slowly, head muddled, and at first, he’s not sure why he’s awake. it takes him several moments to register the strange wetness that has his shirt clinging to his chest and the stickiness on his chin and cheek. when he does, he moans in distress and pushes himself up on his elbows.

this turns out to be a mistake, his belly takes the movement as a personal offence and it’s all he can do to lean over the edge of the bed as puke spurts from his lips. ”hyung,” he croaks, hardly above a whisper, flinging his arm back to grope blindly for namjoon as another slurry of beer and the remnants of his last meal adds to the growing puddle on the floor and in the sheets.

namjoon stirs awake with the harsh tugs, it feels like someone is playing tug of war with the sheets. he frowns, propping himself up with his elbow and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. it is only when his mind is clear enough from the fog of sleep that he registers the situation. puke on the floor. puke on the sheets. a puking jungkook.

“bunny…” namjoon coos, slipping a hand under his sticky shirt and rubbing vertically on the bridge of his back. “you’re okay. it’s okay,” he comforts, voice raw from sleep.

jungkook shakes his head and retches again, only bringing up a small splash of sick. he clamps his mouth shut to muffle the sob that follows, feeling all kinds of humiliated and disgusting. his cheeks burn horribly and if he didn’t feel so awful, he’d probably make a break for the bathroom just so he could hide behind a locked door.

instead, he flops back in bed and brings his arms up to shield his face from view. he sinks his teeth into his lip to prevent another sob from escaping, but he can’t quite keep his shaking shoulders from giving him away. maybe namjoon will take mercy on him, though and pretend not to be witnessing the breakdown jungkook’s currently having in his bed at some god-awful time in the morning.

“you poor thing..” namjoon coos, carding his fingers through his hair. his voice deep and calm, comforting. he engulfs the younger man in his arms, hugging him closely to his chest as his shirt grows damp from his tears. “kook-ah, it’s okay! you’re okay!” he muses, rubbing his back. “did you know? the darker the liquor the worse the hangover? and beer is a light, golden pretty colour. so the chances of your head splitting open because your hung-as-fuck are pretty low,” he rambles on, dumbly with his intelligence, hoping to lighten his mood.

jungkook latches onto his hyung, tucking his forehead in against his collarbone. he feels overwhelmed and gross, but that doesn’t stop a little giggle from bursting out of him at namjoon’s words. he sniffles wetly afterward and lapses back into relative silence.

when the anxious buzz in his veins quietens, jungkook finds himself still wrapped in namjoon’s embrace, fingers curled against his back, gripping at his shirt. he leans away slightly and says, ”yeah, but… you should’ve seen how much i drank. i almost couldn't finish it,” a hint of pride laces his tone.

“and how much would that be, golden maknae?” namjoon asks, he’s a bit skeptical of the response. knowing how much the younger loves to spring above and beyond, even for the most childish of things.

”two litres,” jungkook declares, pitching his voice a little for dramatic effect.

namjoon nods, that seems pretty plausible judging by the amount that he physically regurgitated earlier and now twenty minutes prior. he shivers subtly at the memory, “pleasant.”

jungkook shrugs, a frown tugging at his lips and he slips a hand under his shirt to palm his stubbornly unsettled stomach. ”not really,” he admits, grimacing when the damp fabric comes into contact with his knuckles.

“I know kook, try sleeping it off, yeah?” namjoon choruses, he peels off the soiled shirt from the younger, it wasn’t of much use now. he pulls the covers over his shoulders and presses a subtle kiss to his head. once jungkook begins to doze off, he springs into action. he cleans up swiftly (also trying to manhandle the boy off the dirty sheets without disturbing him) and gets back into bed before the boy even has a chance to yearn for warmth.

jungkook sighs contentedly when he feels namjoon settle in next to him again. he burrows closer, leeching some of his hyung’s warmth. ”g’night,” he muffles, face hidden in namjoon’s chest. it doesn’t take long after that for drowsiness to seep into his bones and his mind to sink back into the realm of sleep.

”i’ll give you a detailed look at jungkook. jungkook has a mole on his ear. left ear,” yoongi murmurs from behind the mask on his chin, happily pouting

”that’s right,” jungkook agrees.

yoongi chuckles, ”you’ve become a bit round during the tour jungkookie,” a slight tilt of his head, pondering to himself.

”me?” jungkook asks, ”no. it’s because i drank a lot yesterday.”

he arches a brow, ”how much?”

jungkook fights back a grin and says, ”two litres. two.”

”two litres alcohol?” seokjin asks, coming up behind yoongi, looking appalled.

yoongi light-heartedly scoffs, bewildered, “how do you drink two litres? i don’t even drink two litres of water.”

”two litres of alcohol?” seokjin repeats, eyebrows raised, ”beer?”

”yes,” jungkook agrees smugly, conveniently leaving out the part where he’d spent the rest of the night throwing up.

namjoon snorts behind his chaptered book, he narrows his eyes playfully at the youngest. jungkook’s eyes share the same secretive glimmer between the two members, the maknae gives a conceited wink. “never again,” they chorus in their minds.

#sick!jungkook #caring!namjoon #bts emeto #bts fluff #lovemoonjoonlandingtobits

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kl-writes · 5 years ago

Text

This chapter doesn’t deal directly with the second warning, but the situation is close enough that I’m marking it like it is.

Chapter 3: January 29th, 2080

Chapter 3 Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Rape/Non-con

It was supposed to be a fun night on the town. It had been awhile since Perianwyr was in Chicago. He wanted to go out on the town, hear some of the local talent. Maybe there’d be something worth picking up- all the corps in the music biz wouldn’t know good music if it swooped down and ate them. He was a little hungry, too, so he headed down to an old bar.

Debevic’s was still in business, after all this time. The CZ was clear to enter now, and most of the staff had been caught in the Zone anyways. The owner’s son survived, and he had started building the restaurant and club back up.

“Evan Perry” was a bit too obvious these days. Peri smiled. It had been a while since “Periwinkle” was on the scene, and anyone who’d recognize her was in Seattle or dead. Perianwyr flew down to a back alley a few blocks away, and shifted into Periwinkle. A human woman in her twenties, blonde with blue eyes. Blue hair today, though. Just in case.

He ingratiated himself easily with the bar’s patrons. The staff was still a riot- Peri knew better than some of his elders and “betters” about what respect really was. He preferred the insults and scoffs to someone with a smile and rehearsed line.

The meal was small- a half-pound soyburger. Enough to tide him over without making it obvious what he was. He’d get most of his calorie intake from the alcohol anyways.

“So what’s your name?” a young elf male with violet contacts and black hair slid up to the bar next to Peri.

“Periwinkle,” he smiled at the elf. “You?”

“They call me Goth Gecko.”

“Oh? Was it your mom or your dad who chose it?”

“Neither! I chose my name, same as you.”

Peri started. Did he-

“Periwinkle’s not your real name, right? Relax, I’m a mage, too.”

Oh, right. Perianwyr hadn’t been using a ‘mundane’ aura for Periwinkle. A slight hermetic one, in case he needed to beat feet in a stealthy way.

“That doesn’t mean I’m a runner,” Peri said, cocking his head.

“Didn’t say I was a runner, either.”

Peri took a sip of his margarita, “Then what do you do for a living, Gecko?”

“Well,” he said, eyeing Peri’s drink. “Mostly odd jobs.”

“That sure sounds like a runner.”

“I’m exclusive.”

“Lots of runners are exclusive.”

“Oh, sure. I’m more of an employee or a servant. No shadowrunner’s perfectly loyal to their master. But I think you’d know more about that than me, Peri.”

And there it was. So much for the evening. Peri hoped that this Gecko guy didn’t expect to take him out just because he was in metahuman form.

Peri scoffed, “Well, it’s certainly better than belonging to a master. And who are yours, then? The Azzies? Ghostwalker? Maybe someone me and Kyle pissed off way back when?”

“Number three, darling,” Gecko leaned in towards Peri. “It’s a matter of professional pride for my boss. He’d like you alive, unfortunately.”

“Oh, well good luck with that,” Peri stood up. “Shall we take this outside, then?”

Peri suddenly felt weak in the knees. He started to fall, and Gecko caught him. Gecko gave him a wide smile, “Of course, darling. It seems like you’ve had too much. How about I bring you to my car?”

Peri started to retort, to cast, but was hit with a coughing fit. He spit up some of his drink onto the floor, along with some thick blue goo. Peri went pale. Blue-227 wasn’t supposed to have an effect while they were in metahuman form. That’s what everyone had been saying.

Gecko began to lead the helpless dragon out of the bar, “Don’t worry your pretty little head. My boss has an antidote for this particular concoction. Just focus on holding your current form and cooperate.”

Peri wasn’t able to focus on anything. He felt cut off from the astral plane altogether. He should’ve passed out and returned to his true form, but even as his energy was fading, his form seemed to lock. Only a few beings had the ability to inflict that kind of curse, and Blackwing wasn’t one of them. The Azzies weren’t supposed to have magic like that, not anymore.

There were a lot of things that weren’t supposed to be happening.

As he was brought out of Debevic’s, he made eye contact with his waitress. She was on the phone with someone. Who the heck still used a flip phone?

Gecko walked them around the back to the parking lot. He took care to arrange themselves like a nice, intimate couple. Peri couldn’t do much but follow along, as the weak elf’s grip on him felt like steel. Peri breathed carefully, trying to center himself enough to make some sort of spell.

They reached a plain black Americar. Not even an armored muscle car? Peri felt a bit miffed. Gecko opened the door, and helped his “date” into the back seat. As he walked around to the front, Peri heard the sounds of motorcycles tearing into the parking lot.

Gecko scoffed, “I thought you worked alone these days. Unfortunate for your friends.” The man drew a weapon from inside his coat and stalked off. Peri tried to pull himself up, but his mind was completely clouded. It felt like a thousand sandbags were weighing his back down, now.

The night lit up with the sound of automatic fire and shotguns. Peri shook his head, as each shot drove a hammer further into it. He heard the sudden WHOOSH of astral space opening, but did not feel the spirit that was summoned. He was completely cut off.

Then, all was silent. Peri heard steps coming towards the car and tensed. He couldn’t do anything to fight back, but he was damned if he wouldn’t try. The door opened, and before him was a short, thin woman with spiky black hair. The late Johnny 99’s wife, Becky 99.

Peri gaped, then his stomach leaped into his throat again and he threw up on Gecko’s car seat.

“She’s drugged,” Becky called out. The woman chanted, and let a detox spell into Peri. Some of the weight lifted, but the healing magic was moving Ithrough him like molasses. “Sonya, get the medkit and charcoal! This drek’s some weird shit.”

Peri finally heaved himself into a sitting position and faced his rescuer. “I- thanks.”

“Hey, take it easy. Do you know what he drugged you with?”

Yes. “No, I didn’t even know he drugged me until he tried to take me to his car.”

“Drek. Yeah, I haven’t seen anything like this before, chummer. Usually my magic’s more than enough.”

“It’s okay.” Peri looked around. Gecko was on the ground, dead. So were a few women in leather jackets, the same black and green colors as Becky. His eyes widened “What? You shouldn’t have come. I’m glad, but- I’m sorry. They shouldn’t have-“

“What, you ain’t worth it? They shouldn’t have died for you?” Becky shook her head. “It’s what we do. And, uh, don’t worry too much about it, girl. We’re a bit more resilient than we appear.” She gave Peri an odd grin.

“Okay.” Peri steadied himself as another wave of nausea swept over him. He fought to keep his stomach down.

One of Becky’s compatriots- must have been Sonya- trotted over with a briefcase-sized medkit and a glass. She handed the glass off to Peri.

He drank from it. Charcoal and water. He gagged.

“Sorry,” said Sonya, “This is the quickest way to clear the system if magic won’t do the trick.”

Peri spewed over the back of Gecko’s car. But finally, he felt connected to the astral plane again. He looked over at the women. “Thank you. Really.”

Hold on a second, was Becky always a Mantis spirit?

“You got a place to stay?” asked Becky.

“Well, I was just here for the show-“

“Look, come hang out at our place, then. No men around, just us girls.”

Peri smiled. This was probably the worst person for Perianwyr to have run into. Even if Becky was helping him now, he thanked the Totems, the Passions, and whoever the fuck was out there that he had been in dragon form when he kidnapped Johnny 99’s girlfriend.

“Okay, sure.”

Even though Peri was around friends at the Desolation Angels’ bar, he kept assensing his drink for any sign of toxins. Just copious amounts of alcohol. He was too on edge to let himself get drunk, so he kept to virgin drinks to allay suspicion.

He started talking with Becky. She and the Angels were based out of the Zone, and they did what they could to help the homeless, and to keep people in the Zone safe. Especially the women- with the Bugs gone, now all the sadists went back to their usual victims. She talked about how she used to be a runner, and shared some stories with Peri that Peri already knew about. Peri shared a few of his running tales, but was careful. Stuck to some of the things he and his partner did back in Wales. Just in case.

He couldn’t help but stare at Becky’s wedding ring. It hung on a chain around her neck. She noticed the look, “I don’t want to talk about him today, so don’t ask.”

“Sorry, it’s just- I lost mine, too.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, it was years ago. The anniversary’s coming up, that’s all.”

She nodded, fingering the ring, “I hear you. We can find new families, but the memories won’t go away.”

Perianwyr sighed, “No. That’s our burden, I guess.”

“Burden?” Becky smiled softly at the blue-haired woman. “I wouldn’t give them up for anything.”

Perianwyr gaped at her. Did Becky really know what it was like to be connected to someone, to have your heart and their heart strung together, beating as one? Feeling as one? She had to- Perianwyr knew she had, all those years back. “You don’t feel sad at all?” he had to chew his lip to keep from spewing fire breath. “Did he mean that little to you?”

“No, no!” Becky said, “Sorry, I’ve had time to come to terms with his death. I didn’t mean you had to come to terms with yours- closure takes time. And yes- I still feel sad when I miss him. I think I always will feel that way.”

Perianwyr nodded. Becky 99 was only a fraction of his age, but she was still so much older than him.

#shadowrun #writing #fanfiction

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kapsbrakclapsback · 7 years ago

Text

Dreammaker, You Heartbreaker (1/?)

I’ve got chapter 1 of the Breakfast At Tiffany,s AU! It’s also on AO3. But here it is! Based on @takealottodragmeawayfromreddie‘s awesome idea.

The lost man moves with a purpose, walking with a fashionable black evening coat paired with a coffee to-go and a Danish, the oil of the pastry leaving dark yellow-gray stains on the white paper bag. Sunglasses stand on the bridge of his nose, and no passerby can read his story from his eyes because of them. The city feels awfully tall as it surrounds him, but as big as the world around him is, he can still hear the soft taps that his slightly worn but high end shoes make on the pavement below him.

Maybe he’s been walking for hours, maybe minutes. We don’t know, and it’s not even clears if he knows. Nonetheless, he stops, sure in his halted step as he makes a sharp turn to face the large, shiny shop window. He takes a sip of the bitter coffee and just lets himself look.

Everything about it gleams. Tiffany's was like heaven as imagined through children's books, full of sparkle and shine. The shine itself takes on a new, indecipherable meaning in the kind light of the 7 am rising sun.

He takes a bite of his Danish and lets his head tilt in fascination, Let’s his concealed eyes scatter about the magic charm of it all. He wonders for a second if he should take the glasses off, but remembers that his hands are full and decides that he probably couldn’t comprehend Tiffany's if he got to view it in its unshaded glory.

This is god, he thinks. This is salvation, this is heaven. Nothing bad can happen here.

He gives himself a few more moments to heal, to let the power of Tiffany's and all of its glittering diamonds seep into his soul. Then, he pulls his eyes away from it, and begins the walk to his apartment building, falling into step with the collage of New Yorkers until he is more part of the pavement than he is an individual.

——

When Eddie got out of his impossibly bright yellow taxi and pulled out his suitcase (the rest of the boxes were to come later, he'd been told), he took a moment to stand on the sidewalk and just look.

He gazed at the way that the city popped and whirred to life around him, like some grey-brown toy store. Everything around him was tall, com the buildings to the pedestrians, but Eddie had been short for a long enough time to know that the feeling was to be expected in most new places. People of all types passed him as he let his gaze travel across every surface. Despite the circumstances, he felt freedom burn in his throat, felt it sear behind his eyes.

He heard the taxi drive away, but didn’t tear his eyes away from the cityscape. It was only when some gruff shoulder knocked against Eddie's, and he was pulled back to earth. After taking a moment to collect himself, Eddie walked out of the flowing sidewalk and onto the steps of the apartment building.

Before walking in, he reached into his pocket for the key that would let him into the set of hallways to get to his room. When it wasn’t in his right jacket pocket, he checked the left and then the right again. Panic grew, blossoming into a fire when there was no unchecked pocket and no key to the building, only to his apartment.

He took a breath in and another one out, but the effort was futile. He still felt like he was on the verge of combustion when he decided to just ring up a room to ask to be let in.

Eddie let himself into the lobby-of-sorts of the apartment building (it was a mostly blank room consisting of a board and a locked door), and tried to cool the panic stirring up in his lungs with a long breath. He took note of the inhaler in his back pocket to calm himself before settling himself before the board of his destiny, as his occasionally fantastical mind referred to it.

Sufficiently convinced that he could handle the next set of events, whatever the hell they were, Eddie stared at the grid of pearly white buttons. He let the pads of his fingers trail softly over them, the romantic streak in his mind looking at the possibilities hidden in it. His hand, of its own accord as far as Eddie's concern, drifted to the mid-left of the broad board. He took a look at the room number, just to be sure (it was E4, and the number/letter pair burned itself into his mind with a crisp harshness. He supposed it was a result of his heightened emotion). Finally, he put his index finger on the button and pushed firmly, leaving no room for hesitation.

The piercing, alarm like sound was unpleasant for him, but he persisted until whoever was on the other end answered back.

"Who is this?" asked a rough voice, raspy with sleep. Eddie smiled despite himself, glad that he actually got a response.

"Eddie, Eddie Kapsbrak. I just moved in, and I don’t have my building key. Could you let me in?"

"What time is it?" Based on the slow, fatigued rhythm of the voice on the other end, Eddie presumed that he had only heard about half of what he had said. A yawn could be heard through the rickety speaker, further solidifying the tiredness of the man in E4.

"10:30, if my watch is anything to go by," said Eddie, carefully stepping around his words, making sure they were slow and not too rambling. He still felt the panic itch beneath his skin, but began to put on the most calm, collected face he could.

"Shit! Do you have a bottle of water, by any chance? I have an appointment and I can't turn myself into a man worthy of New York this quickly without help."

The request was odd, but Eddie still peeked into his satchel to check, and smiled lightly when he found an unopened bottle.

"I’ve got water. Room E4, right?"

"Absolutely. Come on up."

Eddie heard a click, and strode towards the door, feeling optimism beneath his feet. He pushed the door to the building open with ease- it wasn’t not the grand, decorated door at the building's front, this one was thinner and had a weaker knob- and he held his case, letting it swing back and forth as he made his way down a hall and up a flight of stairs. He followed this pattern until he reached the fifth floor. He let his free hand trail on the painted white banister by his side, but quickly retracted it at the feeling of dust beneath his fingertips.

He stopped in place, holding his hand mid-air to figure out what to do about the dust. He could feel the tips of his fingers begin to itch, and he had read enough about dust to know its dangers. Before Eddie could take a second to think, he jerkily wiped it off on the front of his jacket, before realizing that he had basically just transferred the dangerous substance from his skin to another place on his body.

Idiot, idiot, idiot, he thought, berated himself with a venomous tongue. Eddie then used his palm to make brushing movements on the coat to get as much of the dust off of it as necessary before pulling out some hand sanitizer from a pocket inside his coat.

He put a copious amount of the aloe vera scented jelly on his hands, and scrubbed with veracity as he continued walking, stilted and distracted, his attention focused on purging the dust from his vicinity. His mind began cycling through the possibilities, but was interrupted as he gave a glance to the placard next to a door, and was shocked out of his illness infested reverie with the realization that he was a few rooms away from E4.

E1 may have looked the same as E2 which looked the same as E3, but E4 was an anomaly, a misfit among the uniform set of doors. First, there was a welcome mat, and a well used one at that. There were scrapes of dried mud, and the corner was stained with a faded crimson color, probably red wine. There were some words printed on it, but they were worn past readability. Eddie knocked three times, keeping a borderline musical pattern to them. He didn’t get a response for a long enough time that he moved his hand to knock again, but he was interrupted as the door was swung open, revealing the man who lived in E4.

Eddie found his breath taken away, but not in the way that he was used to. The man was dressed in a tuxedo shirt that was a few sizes too big (on second thought, it probably didn’t even belong to him) and a novelty sleeping mask pushed onto his forehead. The mask was rose pink with shiny gold eyelashes, and it must’ve been either a gag gift or a party favor. He was lanky, with wild, dark hair that curled around in effortless twirls. There was a smattering of freckles around his nose and cheeks, and he had cheekbones that made Eddie want to collapse in the middle of the hallway.

The amount of time it took for Eddie to find himself helplessly infatuated with him was about the same amount of time as it took for the man to collect himself from his slumber just enough to groggily open his mouth.

"D’ya have the water, Eds?" he asked, voice dragging and low.

"Don’t call me Eds," Eddie responded without thought, shaking himself a bit as he grabbed the water out of his satchel and handing it to the guy, who grabbed it with a heavy hand and casually beckoned Eddie inside.

"Hey, what’s your name?" Eddie asked, stepping in after him carefully, putting his satchel and suitcase next to the doorway.

"Richie Tozier's my name, and breaking hearts is my game," slurred Richie, smiling to himself at some hidden memory, before uncapping the water and taking a deep, long drink. Eddie felt his heart twinge in an odd, bitter way.

Richie continued to drink, and Eddie took a look around his apartment.

E4 was as unusual on the inside as it was on the outside, as it was simultaneously cluttered and empty. There was a nice couch which had just been slept on, if the blanket and pillows were anything to go by, but it was paired with the oddest side table Eddie had ever seen. It was misshapen and crooked, like a shop class project gone wrong. Curled at a leg of the side table was a tan-colored cat, who slept peacefully.

"You have a cat?" Eddie asked, eying the pet with wariness, remembering a specifically scarring testimonial he read about a claw scratching out an eye that had made him swear off pets when he first read it in college.

"Yep. His name's Cat," Richie answered, putting down the bottle and moving to the other side of the living room. There, he pulled off the eye mask and placed it on top of a stack of newspapers.

"Short for Catherine? Nice pun."

"No, he’s just Cat. As in the animal. He’s a free spirit, doesn’t need a name. We're kindred spirits, him and I. I barely have a name myself," explained Richie, his voice becoming floaty as he became a bit more alert. He grabbed a hairbrush from the seat of a wooden rocking chair, and began to casually run it through his hair as he rambled.

"How can you barely have a name? Everyone has a name, whether they like it or not," said Eddie, following Richie as he moved to get something from his bedroom. He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, as he watched Richie fish around for something.

"What if someone is called by everything but their name? What if people just point at them and start talking? They don’t really have a name," said Richie, as he found what he was apparently looking for at the bottom of a small basket. He held up the glinting slip of metal victoriously, and on second sight, Eddie realized that it was a jeweled clip.

"Well then, I guess their name is just 'Hey you', or the name that they introduce themselves as. You can’t just not have a name."

"Maybe so," replied Richie, lackadaisical and gorgeous in the pink lampshaded lights of his room. He peered into a mirror and slipped it into his hair, before grabbing a wide brimmed hat on his bedside table. An easy silence followed, before curiosity stirred in Eddie once more.

"So, what’s with the rush? What big event warrants all of..." Eddie trailed off, trying to find the right word for the flurry of hair clips and clutter that was this whole event, before finally choosing to make a noncommittal hand gesture as he said "this".

"I’m seeing Sally Tomato, and visiting hours are tight. He’s in Sing Sing right now, and I’ve got to give him the weather report," said Richie as he finished his sentence by moving into the adjoining bathroom.

"Sing Sing? The jail?"

Richie stuck his head out of the bathroom doorway to answer, and it was so cartoonish and peculiar that Eddie felt the corners of his mouth turn up, almost against his will.

"You know, I always thought that Sing Sing should be the name of an opera house," said Richie, and he then left Eddie's sight again. Eddie, however, could hear strains of an impression of an opera singer through the distance. It wasn’t a refined mimic, as the voice drifting through the doorways was more Richie's than anyone else’s, but it held an odd charm.

Richie then darted out of the bathroom, arms outstretched as he searched for something on the floor. He paused to look up at Eddie, staring bemusedly down at him.

"I’m looking for shoes, nice black ones. Shiny. You’ll know it’s mine if there’s a white line on the sole, it’s how I keep track of them at parties," he then dived under his bed, and Eddie decided not to contemplate on parties that required an absence of shoes and instead went looking.

There another stretch of silence, now accompanied with the musical sounds of shuffling through a messy bedroom, before Eddie spoke up again.

"You mentioned a weather report. What’s the deal with that?"

"Well, my good old friend Sally passes along messages with another one of my jail visitor friends. They’re always weird things, but never funny enough, which is a real shame. I mean, if you’re just going to tell each other the weather, might as well make it fun, right? But my little Sun-Dried Tomato wants me to quote verbatim, like some kind of fuckin' Latin teacher. It’s ridiculous, but what can you do? I mean, one time I- Found it! Got one shoe out of two. Any luck, Eds?"

Eddie tried to will the cobweb off of his left hand while making a sad gesture with his right.

"No luck whatsoever."

Richie, in that moment, seemed to be hit with some divine inspiration, looking past Eddie at a rickety wardrobe.

"Can you reach deep, deep in the clothes part of the wardrobe? I think Bev may have pulled something. That’s her usual stash space."

"Is Bev in Sing Sing too?" asked Eddie as he followed the instructions, his palm touching the (dusty, so ridiculously dusty) back wall of the wardrobe as he fanned it across to find the shoes. Richie was laughing softly at something Eddie couldn’t decipher when Eddie's hand hit the trademark stiff leather of a nice shoe, and he grabbed it with confidence, pulling them out victoriously.

Richie gave a cheer, and Eddie threw it across the room. Richie's catch was successful despite Eddie's inability to aim, and Richie disappeared back into the bathroom. Eddie, officially in the bedroom of a guy he had just met, took a deep breath and looked around.

This was an unknown feeling, the feeling of newness as it crashed its waves on him. He breathed it in, let himself soak in the unfamiliarity of it, until he was interrupted by the squeaking of door hinges. He looked to the door of the bathroom, and felt himself drown.

If Richie was beautiful in sleepwear and an eye mask, he was absolutely breathtaking in his streetwear.

His outfit, a semi-casual suit with a wide brimmed hat, was a fascinating sort of elevated normalcy. Richie himself, Eddie realized, was a sort of elevated normalcy. He had routines and schedules and everything that made Eddie dread daylight, but every movement was accompanied by a panache that was addicting.

"Do I look okay?" asked Richie, doing a goofy twirl.

"Yeah, I guess," replied Eddie, closing his dropped jaw and trying to play it cool. Richie rolled his eyes, smiling brightly as he pushed past the blushing Eddie, who followed his path as it led both of them into the hallway.

Finally, there Eddie stood, a changed man in the cramped quarters of the carpeted hallway in his new apartment building, the man of his dreams on his way out. Richie's back was turned as he flitted down the hall, swinging a bag with one hand and adjusting his hat with the other, and Eddie called out to him.

"Hey, Richie!"

Richie turned around, somehow looking both hopeful and afraid.

"See you around," said Eddie, and he smiled as Richie gave a soft wave.

Richie turned back, and Eddie swiveled to the direction of his room, feeling something warm and sunny grow in him.

#it (2017) fanfiction #reddie #richie tozier #eddie kapsbrak #the group chat is prob mad at me because i still haven’t written the legally blonde au but #hope this makes up for it

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