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elleskandal · 1 month ago

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match my freak

Rintarou has been reading "RPF - Volleyball" fanfic and it makes his life a little complicated when he develops feelings for Motoya because of it.

🏐 words: 7.2k

🔗 archiveofourown.org/works/59996212 (or read below)

🏐 🏐 🏐 🏐 🏐

“Did you know about the fan fiction?” Rintarou looked down at his phone as he waited for Motoya to finish getting dressed after practice.

“Yeah? What about it?” Motoya had heard of fan fiction, who hadn’t?

“The fan fiction about us,” Rintarou responded deadpan, now looking up from his phone. He wanted to see Motoya’s reaction to this. It took a second for it to compute.

“Fan fiction about… us?” Motoya pointed between the two of them.

“Yup.” Rintarou popped the p and raised his chin so he could look down his nose. He was lucky he had a good poker face because he was relishing this conversation.

“And?” Motoya’s eyes had started to bug out a little.

“And what?” Rintarou raised his eyebrows. He knew what Motoya was asking but he wanted to tease him.

“What’s it like?” Rintarou couldn’t see Motoya’s face as he put his gear in his locker.

Rintarou had already read most of the fic he could find on that cursed site. He had stumbled upon it when he was scouring his digital footprint. He had wanted to engage with his fans and when one accidentally tagged him directly instead of a fan account when talking about their latest story, he couldn’t help but check it out. He kind of spiraled from there.

He had seen that he was “shipped” with a couple of people in the v.League circuit. He saw one crack fic with him and vabo-chan which he had to admit was hilarious. Then he stumbled upon a story with Atsumu, which, made him grimace. The guy was objectively attractive, but if he had to imagine dating his best friend, he may vomit. So he avoided those. Then there was Aran, which is valid. They went to high school together, were kouhai/sempai, could even be seen as rivals, and the man was hot. He read a couple of those, but it got a little weird when they got too spicy. He just couldn’t picture it. He realized Aran was like a brother. So he checked out of that ship.

But when he found the fics that featured him and Motoya… everything changed. At first, it was funny. He felt like he needed a bucket of popcorn to eat while he indulged — he read through stories about how they celebrated their wins, supported each other through losses, took care of each other when they were sick, or pined after one another when their backs were turned. In some, they weren’t even volleyball players! They worked at coffee shops, wielded magic, ruled kingdoms, managed corporations, or were single parents.

However, his brain broke and was — possibly, probably, definitely — rewired when he read the ones marked E. He thought those were “E for Everyone,” like the video games. Boy, was he wrong. Sending each other to subspace, being alphas and omegas, and worst of all, when they were soulmates. It made him start to rethink his relationship with Motoya and his relationship with love in general.

Rintarou had never particularly thought he was a romantic, but reading about how so many people thought he was soulmates with one of his best friends? How so many analyzed their interviews and interactions, writing fiction around them getting together? Having sex and making love? It made him think. A lot.

Motoya closed his locker. Rintarou was leaning against his, spacing out. Motoya had to repeat his question a few times, waving in his face. “Hello? Earth to Sunarin. I said, what’s it like?”

“I guess you’ll have to read it, huh,” Rintarou smirked at that. He would actually like it if Motoya read it. He brought it up to plant that little seed in his mind. He wanted his teammate to suffer the same way he had over the past several months, falling down this deep dark hole. Suffer in how he found it difficult to look Motoya in the eye—he often had to look away from him in the locker room too and when he saw beads of sweat drip down Motoya’s neck after games? He had to suffer through the thoughts of licking them off.

Worst case, they could have a laugh together at the idea of Rintarou as Motoya’s assistant, knight Rintarou saving Prince Motoya, mob boss Rintarou purchasing debtor Motoya, or whatever other scenario their fans spun up. Best case, well… Rin didn’t think that would actually happen. This wasn’t a fan fiction, after all.

So Rintarou planted the idea. But he wondered if it was a mistake as he choked on his blue electrolyte-infused water that evening following the text he received.

>> What are alpha/beta/omega dynamics?

It was too soon for that. Couldn’t Motoya start simpler, something light and easy? Slice of life, maybe? This was like giving a kid the birds-and-the-bees talk.

And then the phone started ringing, Motoya’s name lighting up the screen. Rin just stared at it until it stopped, but when he got another text, he knew he was fucked.

>> Suna, pick up. I know you just saw that text!

Damn read receipts. He should turn those off. He liked to keep them off to make a point that he was being an asshole though.

His phone started ringing again and he had no choice but to pick up. He knew that gremlin would just keep calling.

“What do you want, Komori?” He sighed.

“So rude,” Motoya quipped.

“Okay, now that I have you on the phone. I’m looking at the fanfic you told me about,” he paused, “they have these tags and I don’t know what some of them are. Like knotting.”

Rintarou placed his fingers on his forehead to steady himself and closed his eyes. He was glad this wasn’t a video call. He’s not sure he would be able to look Motoya in the face. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold it together.

“You have Google.” Rintarou thought his heart would give out if he had to explain any omegaverse concept to Motoya.

“But sometimes it doesn’t explain nuances. Like when I looked up alpha/beta/omega, it just told me it was a part of the Greek alphabet or when a man is like macho or whatever. That’s not correct, right? I just don’t want to go into these not knowing what they are.“

Rintarou sighed. “Fine. That trope is like a dominance hierarchy. Alphas are usually the most dominant, while omegas are submissive. But maybe read those after experiencing something a little… tamer. Anything else?”

“Tamer? Sounds like you’re warning me away from the good stuff!” Rintarou could just imagine the way Motoya’s cute little eyebrows were dancing across his face.

“I just think you might want to ease your way in.” He sighed. Maybe this was a bad idea. Thinking about Motoya reading something so explicit made him warm—no, hot—he was getting very hot in the face.

“Uhh huh. With what kind of stuff? Do you have favorites? How much of it have you read?” He could hear the smile in Motoya’s voice. Damn him. He had suggested the fanfic because he wanted Motoya to suffer just like he was, but it seemed like Rintarou was going through it even worse now. He should have known.

Rintarou tipped his head back on the couch and stared at the ceiling. “Start with literally anything else. How about the ones based on Taylor Swift songs?” He avoided the question of how many he had read—he did not want to address that—or if he had favorites. He couldn’t send those over. Not yet at least.

“Cool. I’ll see if I can find them. I’m looking forward to learning what some of these words mean too. It’s like a whole new language…” Motoya trailed off. Rintarou swore he could hear him mumbling through the tags he was reading like dead dove, water sports, and selfcest. He had to get off this call. Now.

“Uh huh.” Rintarou’s eyes unfocused as he stared. He was about to dissociate.

“Okay, talk to you later!” Motoya thankfully hung up.

He went to his room and face planted into his bed.

—

About a year ago, Motoya had to console Kiyoomi through one of his many crises. This particular one’s cause? Fan fiction.

Someone on his team had found a particularly entertaining one and sent it out through the group chat—its subject matter, Atsumu. Kiyoomi wanted to clown on him like the others, who had all read it. It was an ode. To Atsumu’s tongue. The guys had not been able to stop quoting it, not that Atsumu’s ego needed it. Of course, in “retaliation,” Atsumu’s tongue remained outside of his mouth more than normal, which was already an absurd amount of time.

The real problem was the way the words of the fic burrowed themselves into Kiyoomi’s mind and created some kind of Pavlovian effect between that tongue and how he felt when he had read that stupid work of fiction. Because it was fiction—he had to keep telling himself that. Nothing written about his tongue was true, right? Right?

Every time Kiyoomi saw a flash of pink dart of out Atsumu’s mouth, his mind rebooted and powered up horny.exe, a virus implanted inside of him, which was rotting and melting his brain. He knew it was a problem when a ball from Atsumu hit him in the face during practice. He hoped the bloody nose it gave him would cause the stupidity to leak out of his mind, but alas, no luck—it only made it worse. Atsumu hovered around him, licking his lips in trepidation. That’s when he had to get some free psychotherapy from Motoya.

“I can’t keep going on like this, Motoya.”

“Hm, my mom would probably prescribe exposure therapy or something,” Motoya said offhandedly.

Motoya’s mother was a psychologist so he knew some of her treatments and exercises, but more often than not, he was talking out of his ass. That said, they had tried exposure therapy on Kiyoomi as a kid for his various neuroses. It worked to keep him from bringing his obsessive compulsion into volleyball.

“You’re a genius. I’ll read all the fan fiction I can find of Miya.” Motoya could hear the smile in his voice. Oh no.

“Uh, that’s not exactly what I was thinking. How—“

His cousin cut him off, “Look at what I found. Texted it to you. See ya.”

Motoya pulled his phone away from his face and looked at the link in his texts. When he clicked on it, it brought him to the page Volleyball RPF — Komori Motoya, listing every fic about him and his colleagues that he was tagged in.

“I hate you!” He was sure that Kiyoomi had not heard him before he hung up. It didn’t matter. He was stuck now. He was Schrödinger’s Fanfic Reader.

Like in Schrödinger’s thought experiment, Motoya was the cat—he was just as curious, so how could he not click on the link and dive deeper? To Kiyoomi (our modern-day Schrödinger), Motoya was both the reader and non-reader, now stuck in a box. Maybe if he never spoke of this again though, no one would ever know that he had actually died inside once he found those fics. He died and was reborn as someone new, someone who had read very explicit sex scenes between himself and his best friend; scenes that he couldn’t forget, scenes that he didn’t exactly want to forget.

But unfortunately, Suna Rintarou opened the box and Motoya was now officially dead, reborn as a fanfic reader. Even if he didn’t bring the subject up, it wouldn’t have made it any less true, but he could have continued pretending. He could still continue pretending—He didn’t have to let Rintarou know that he knew about it all just yet.

It’s not like Rintarou knew he let Motoya out of this metaphorical box��so Motoya could still pretend for a bit. He spent all that time in the box alone, accumulating all that knowledge. He should put it to use. This could be fun, actually.

—

“Sunarin! I can’t wait to tell you about what I found out.” Motoya clapped his hands. They were undressing to head to the showers after practice. “Knotting is like when a wolf—“

Rintarou slammed his locker and blinked his eyes slowly at Motoya in disbelief. “Let’s, uh, talk about it later.” He looked around to make sure no one else had heard Motoya. He did not want to talk about the myriad of alternate universes where they were together, all of them except here. He especially did not want to talk about the explicit versions of those universes (and whether he had an ever-expanding dick or not in them). He did not want to talk about how they had changed him and how he couldn’t look at Motoya the same way, and how—

“Sure. How about we grab dinner?”

“In public?” Rintarou’s voice was a little high. Maybe his poker face was cracking. Maybe he was losing it.

“Yes?” Motoya laughed as he brushed past Rintarou. Where they touched burned. Rintarou looked over his shoulder as he kept walking to the showers. “Or we could get takeout.”

“Takeout. Let’s do takeout.” Rintarou nodded and followed him to the showers.

Somewhere in the last two months, Rintarou had to stop walking to the showers with Motoya. He couldn’t look at the lean muscles of his back rippling as he walked or the little trail of stomach hair that begged his eyes to drop lower without wanting to slam his head into a wall. Otherwise, he’d have a worse problem on his hands. Today, however, he had other things on his mind.

As he sudsed up, Rintarou couldn’t decide whether takeout actually was a good idea. Talking about dubcon and cannibalism and whatever other stuff—kinky or otherwise—that Motoya wanted to throw at him could not be done in public. Then again, he thought about talking about it alone in his apartment and wondered if he was actually, truly fucked. He felt like he was on some kind of prank show. Maybe someone will jump out and yell “PUNKED!” at him if he’s lucky. But then he reminded himself that this was all of his own making.

He needed advice. Who the hell could he call about this? Didn’t Atsumu say he had read fanfic before? Maybe he’d understand. He finished up quickly and told Motoya he would meet him outside; he had a call to return.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up. Heyyy!” Rintarou paced around the side of the EJP training center, away from the door.

“Hey, bitch. Whaddaya want?” Atsumu answered and Rintarou breathed a sigh or relief. He normally would banter but he didn’t have much time until Motoya came out.

“I have a problem,” Rintarou said flatly.

“Okay? And? Be quiet, Omi. Sunarin’s upset.”

“I’m not upset,” he huffed.

“Spill.”

Knowing Sakusa was there did not make Rintarou feel good about asking for help from Atsumu, but he didn’t know what to do. Maybe if he was vague he wouldn’t let on his issue was about Motoya.

“I, uh, shit. I read all this fanfic about me and a friend and it fucked me up. I think… I like them.”

“Oh shit! Who? A teammate? Is it me?” Atsumu snickered. The jerk.

“It's not you, you ass. It doesn’t matter who it is.” Rintarou ran a hand through his wet hair and tried to fluff it up so he didn’t look like a wet dog with Motoya later. “What do I do?”

“Well, Omi and I read fic to each other sometimes. It’s pretty hot. It really gets him goin’.”

“Ew. Stop.” Rintarou didn’t want to know about their sex lives.

“Okay, okay. We also read them because we may’ve found a funny one or somethin’ cute, ya know?” Rintarou did know. He had read some tooth-rottingly fluffy fics. “You could share one that shows what ya wanna convey. Like from yer heart? If ya like ‘em like that? It could be a good way to take it to the next level, if that’s what ya want.”

“What the fuck? Did you just give me good advice?” Rintarou was honestly kind of stunned. He didn’t expect much but maybe dating Sakusa had matured him.

“Yer an asshole.” Then Atsumu hung up on him. Well, he kind of deserved it. He texted him a thank you though.

When he went to the front of the building, Motoya was waiting for him. “I ordered for us.” He held up his phone. “I got you those noodles you like from Botan’s.

“Thanks.” Rintarou didn’t let his emotion show. Motoya cared enough to remember what he liked and it made him a little gooey inside.

“So, do you have a favorite fic?” Motoya asked him as they walked to get dinner.

“Hm,” Rintarou had to think for a minute. “There’s a couple that I like.” He felt a little embarrassed to admit it, but he had to give a little to get a little.

“Me too.” Motoya didn’t elaborate and it left him wondering.

They walked in pointed silence after that and got their food. All the while, Rintarou thought about which one, or multiple, he’d want to share. His hands felt a little clammy and he wondered if Motoya could sense his jitters.

As he dug into his meal at home—Nikumiso Hiyamugi—mixing the minced pork into the noodles, he texted a link to Motoya. He had steeled himself on his walk back with a few retorts based on what Motoya might think. He could say he liked the way the slow burn was executed, how good the writing was, or even how the writer nailed their personalities.

Despite all that, he hadn’t primed Motoya to receive the fic but figured he’d be the first to share, before he had to talk about the omegaverse again, as that’s all the guy seemed to want to discuss, or god forbid get into the topic of what he could find in dead dove fics.

He wasn’t sure whether Motoya choking on his food was a good or bad thing. He tried to analyze his face for any giveaways—Rintarou was good at doing so on the court, but found Motoya could hide his true intention in everyday life almost as well as himself.

—

Motoya had to admit that maybe he was in over his head. When he clicked on the link Rintarou had sent him, he wasn’t expecting much—a silly alternate universe, a light-hearted slice of life, or something overtly raunchy. He could deal with all of those, easily. What he couldn’t deal with was this.

Why did his heart stop? Why did his stomach churn? Why did Rintarou send this of all of the things written about them?

What he was staring at was a fic with the following tags: getting together, pining, slow burn, friends to lovers, love confessions, they’re so in love your honor.

Motoya needed to stall. “Do you want me to read this now?” To be fair, this fic was kind of long. It would take him a few hours to read it… if he hadn’t read it already. Which he had, and it was utterly gooey and romantic. And it was Rintarou’s favorite?

“Aren’t you going to send me one too?” Rintarou stuffed some noodles into his mouth.

Motoya did not want to send him stories yet, not when Rintarou was sending him stories like this. Was it because he thought of their relationship like this or because he legitimately liked this kind of story? The guy didn’t seem like he’d be into romance, but what did he know? So he made up an excuse for now.

“I’m still pretty new to this, so I don’t know a ton of them. I need to get familiar with more of them before I can do that.”

“Didn’t you want to brag about what you found out earlier?” Rintarou cocked his head to the side and smirked. “You had to have read something.”

“Oh, um, I didn’t exactly take your advice and got wrapped up in the omegaverse. Pretty interesting place, huh?”

“Uh huh,” Rintarou affirmed through a mouthful of food. “Send me your worst then.” His tongue slid out to lick sauce off his lips. Motoya tracked it with his eyes as if it moved in slow motion. It reminded him that he had read about that mouth licking up his neck, nibbling on his ear, sucking marks on his skin, and—

“‘Mori?”

“Hm? Oh, sure.” Motoya was so fucked.

—

“Kiyoomi, I hate you,” Motoya grumbled into the phone.

“What did I do this time?”

“Remember when you sent me that fanfic link last year?" He didn't wait for a response and blustered through, "You gave me this knowledge and now I am cursed.”

“Uh huh. How so,” Kiyoomi sounded bored.

“There’s this person who was featured in them with me and it was never anything more than a fantasy before. But now they want to talk about it! The fics! They know! And I can’t play dumb.”

“Okay, sure. So this person, how do you feel about them?”

“They—“ Motoya wasn’t quite sure how he felt.

He found himself noticing this guy more ever since he stumbled upon those stories. Like, his eyes were instantly drawn to him when he entered a room. He had been analyzing his microexpressions and finding joy in understanding them. And experiencing skinship from the guy? He felt like little zaps of electricity ran through him when that happened.

Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.

These are not thoughts someone has about a friend.

“Motoya?”

“It’s complicated.” He was a teammate and his best friend. He didn’t want to complicate it with these feelings.

“It doesn’t have to be.”

Rintarou had sent him a tender and amorous fic as his favorite story about the two of them. Was it really that simple?

Kiyoomi’s words pinged around his mind.

It doesn’t have to be complicated. It doesn’t have to be complicated. It doesn’t have to be complicated.

—

Motoya elbowed Rintarou while sitting next to him on the couch, “So what’d you think of the fic I sent you?” His caterpillar of an eyebrow raised in question.

Motoya had sent over a fic where omega Rintarou was teased within an inch of his orgasm by Motoya licking at the slick coming out of his ass. He thought it was so unrealistic and out of character enough that Rintarou might find it funny.

“Was that your way of asking me if I’m a bottom?”

Motoya was glad he wasn’t in the middle of a sip of his beer because he would have definitely spewed the drink all over himself after choking. Instead, he froze, stopping the bottle on the way to his mouth.

“‘Cuz I’m a switch. So I can be both your submissive omega and your big bad, possessive Alpha.” Rintarou’s eyes flicked up to his. His teammate smirked, then took another swig.

“Oh my god, you’re so embarrassing,” Motoya threw a balled-up napkin at him. Rintarou snickered at Motoya’s beet red face.

Motoya cleared his throat to change the subject, “So do you have any other recommendations? I, uh, enjoyed the last one you sent me.” And suddenly he felt even hotter with the way Rintarou’s eyes bored through him.

“Sure.” While he took a sip of his drink, Rintarou pulled out his phone and shared a new link with Motoya.

This new fic had the following tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Idiots in Love, Fluff and Angst, Insecurity, Anxiety.

It doesn’t have to be complicated.

“Either you’re quite the romantic or I think you might be in love with me,” Motoya teased. There was a grain of truth in the jest, a hope that he wanted to bloom and flourish.

Rintarou could have quipped back with a taunt, laughed, or winked, as he had done so many times before during their bantering. Instead, he sat frozen with the bottle to his lips. When his brain came back online, he chugged the rest of his drink. It was still half full.

“Do you want another one?” Rintarou tried to stand up, somewhat robotically, but Motoya grabbed his arm to stop him and pulled him back down.

“Hey, Suna. Talk to me,” Motoya held a note of concern in his tone, almost pleading. He didn’t want Rintarou to feel like he had an issue he had to drink away.

“Would that be bad?” Rintarou’s face was neutral, but he wouldn’t look at him. His voice was quiet.

“Would what be bad?” Motoya still clasped his hand on Rintarou’s arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“If I liked you.” It was then that Rintarou turned to look at him. He had an air of vulnerability about him, one that he often hid and compartmentalized behind his flat facade and bantering jokes.

Motoya’s fingers skimmed down to Rintarou’s hand, looping his fingers into his friend’s. “No, it wouldn’t be bad.”

Rintarou’s mouth dropped open into a little ‘o’ and his eyes roamed Motoya’s face as he looked for any hint of a joke, any hint that this wasn’t going his way, unintentionally leaning in as he was drawn to the magnetism of the man, drawn to their inevitability.

Motoya’s free hand cupped Rintarou’s cheek in a move that was nearly too soft. He leaned forward, mirroring the other’s body language. They now shared each other’s space and air; their noses touched. He looked at Rintarou’s lips and knew he was never coming back from this. Those lips were a portal to another realm and when Rintarou closed the gap between them, he was transported there.

He was lightheaded and breathless getting to know Rintarou’s lips. Soft and full, they sucked and pulled at Motoya slowly in ways that made him wonder if he had ever really kissed anyone before. When Rintarou pulled back, Motoya chased them, wanting more. And he got it.

From kisses and nips at his lips to smiles, Motoya thought Rintarou’s face would get tired. He had never made expressions like that before and it was almost too much for Motoya. It made him melt. He wondered if he was the only person who had seen Rintarou look like that, and the fact that he was the cause? It made him a little feral. It made him want to eat Rintarou whole.

He left pecks along Rintarou’s jaw, as his hands roamed his back under his shirt. Fingernails left invisible trails as Motoya pressed his lips along the curve of Rintarou’s neck. He wanted to kiss along every inch of Rintarou’s skin.

“‘Mori, be careful.”

“Hmm?” He pulled back to look his friend in the face.

“I didn’t want you to be tempted to claim me.”

“Claim you?”

“We only just got together. I can’t be seen with a mating bite just yet.”

Oh, hell no. An omegaverse joke? Now of all times? Was this all one big joke? Motoya was shocked, stuck blinking and mouth agape.

When Rintarou’s face couldn’t hold back a shit-eating grin, annoyance overcame Motoya. He stood up and tried to get away, facing towards the door. “Are you fucking kid—

“Stop. Don’t go. I’m sorry.” Before he could get away, Rintarou grabbed his wrist. He didn’t look very sorry, as he pulled Motoya into his lap and wrapped his arms around him. He still wore that grin as he kissed Motoya with abandon. “I actually wouldn’t mind if you claimed me, but take me to dinner first,” he said when he came up for air.

God, he was kind of insufferable. “We both know you’re a beta. C’mon.”

“Ouch, babe. A beta? Really?”

Something bloomed in Motoya’s chest at the pet name, but he couldn’t relish it too much. He had bigger fish to fry—he was never going to live down this omegaverse thing, was he? He groaned and decided he might as well lean into it then, teasing, “Aw, so you want to be my good little omega then? You want my knot, huh?”

Now it was Rintarou’s turn to stare at Motoya, who began to laugh.

“And you think I’m the embarrassing one?” Rintarou started laughing along with the infectious laugh coming from Motoya, settling their foreheads together as the peels of laughter slowed and reverberated under their breath.

“Yeah, I do,” Motoya said and kissed him, while rubbing their noses together. “I like that about you.”

Motoya eased back into Rintarou, fingers finding purchase in dark hair as they became a mess of lips and teeth once again. The more charged the air between the two of them got, the tighter Motoya’s fingers gripped, not realizing how much he pulled or how hard he was, rocking against the other. Rintarou moaned with his head pulled back in Motoya’s grip, gasping into his mouth. Heat licked in Motoya’s gut at the sound.

“Bedroom?” Rintarou murmured against his lips. Motoya murmured an affirmation while he nodded.

“Hold on.” Before Motoya could parse the meaning of those words, long strong arms cupped his ass and hoisted him up.

While liberos were notoriously smaller in the league, he had a few kilos on Rintarou. Nearly all of Motoya’s previous lovers were smaller too; so when Rintarou hoisted and threw him onto the bed like he weighed nothing, he was certain he’d let the man do anything to him.

When he landed on the bed, it wasn’t his weightlessness or the little bounce that made Motoya’s stomach swoop though, it was Rintarou’s piercing stare that looked down at him hungrily that really did the trick. Motoya was so down bad it wasn’t even funny.

—

Rintarou straddled Motoya; both naked and aching for each other. He had fantasized about this so many times over the past several months and now that he was here, he didn’t want to fuck it up.

“Tell me what you want.” Rintarou peppered Motoya with kisses, finding it hard to control himself with the affection leaking out of him.

“I—“ Motoya couldn’t control a strangled noise from escaping his throat when Rintarou’s tongue licked up his neck.

“Out of everything you’ve read, there had to be something you wanted to do, something you’ve fantasized about.” Motoya groaned in response, rutting against Rintarou, who threw his head back and tried to keep his wits about himself. “C’mon, Motoya. Use your words.”

He had wanted to use Motoya’s first name more and more recently. Seeing the man’s reaction, he was glad he waited for this moment. His eyes were blown out and he licked his lips. “Ah, anything,” Motoya panted, “anything you want.”

“Anything? Shit.” Rintarou bit his lip as he thought about some of the depraved things he’d do given the chance, if only Motoya would let him. “You don’t know half of what I’d do to you.” He ran his hands up Motoya’s sides, who shivered. “Or what I’d let you do to me.” He flicked Motoya’s nipple and rolled it between his fingers, eliciting a gasp. “Let’s start easy and we can get into the anything next time. After we talk.”

Motoya continued rocking his hips into Rintarou’s, eyes closed and mouth open as if begging to be filled. Rintarou rubbed his fingers against Motoya's bottom lip and then couldn’t help himself—he slid his fingers in, catching Motoya by surprise. His eyes snapped open, but he soon adapted by sucking with gusto. Keeping eye contact, Motoya swirled his tongue around fingers, taking them as deep into his throat as they would go. Rintarou soon found out that Motoya didn’t have a gag reflex and wondered whether Motoya would look this good sucking his cock—probably better.

“You take them so good,” Rintarou breathed heavily into Motoya’s ear, who whimpered in response. “God, you’re so fucking hot.”

Pulling his wet fingers out, Rintarou brought them to curl around Motoya’s dick just to tease him. His hand roamed up and down, but not with any consistent pace or grip.

“Rin, stop teasing me,” Motoya whined and Rintarou’s stomach dropped. He liked hearing his name from Motoya’s lips as much as he liked saying Motoya’s.

“Okay then, do you want me to fuck you or—“

“Yes.” Motoya cut him off and Rintarou chuckled in return. Motoya looked tortured, debauched—he looked like he needed to be fucked immediately.

“I was going to ask, or do you want to fuck me,” Rintarou huffed in amusement. He wanted to give the man options. As much as he was into fucking him, he wanted to make sure it was what he wanted too.

“Yes.” Motoya squeezed his eyes closed and bit his lip, as he squirmed in Rintarou’s hands. God, he was making this so much harder. Making him so much harder.

Rintarou sat up, making a grab towards his nightstand for lube and condoms. He sat over Motoya without touching him. “Toya, you can’t just say yes to everything.”

“I know, but I’m excited.” Motoya snapped his hips up and Rintarou bit back an embarrassing noise as Motoya said, “How about you fuck me then?”

Rintarou confirmed it with a chaste kiss before coating his fingers with lube, rubbing them together for warmth. “Tell me if you want me to stop.” Rintarou spread Motoya’s legs apart, settling between them.

“Don’t stop until I cry. Seriously, make me cry, Rin. Shit—“ Motoya gasped when he felt Rintarou’s finger penetrate him.

Rintarou felt satisfaction curl in his gut. He’d hardly done anything and yet Motoya was so expressive. He loved seeing his range of emotions, wondering what else he could draw out from just his fingers. He wondered what it would take to see his tears.

Speeding up from one finger to two and then three, Motoya panted and writhed under him. His face flushed and blissed out, Rintarou whispered how much he liked hearing Motoya, how good he looked under him, how much he wanted to be inside him.

“Oh my god. I— fuck. I’m going to come.” Rintarou wanted to indulge him, but a little bit of the sadist inside of him liked teasing Motoya and wanted to pull his fingers out and hear him whine, edge him until he was close to coming and pull back, only to bring him to the edge again and again. Instead, Rintarou sided with the indulgent part of himself—if he indulged him over and over and over, maybe that’s how he could get Motoya to cry. So when he found that spot that had Motoya throwing his head back and chanting his name, he didn’t stop his ministrations.

That’s how Rintarou milked the first orgasm out of Motoya, cum splattering Motoya’s chest as he choked on a silent scream. When he came down to this plane from the stars he ascended to, he grabbed Rintarou’s face and pressed their mouths together, regaining the energy that left him.

“More,” Motoya breathed against his lips.

Rintarou had barely just removed his fingers and it seemed like Motoya’s refractory period was already over. “Fuck me already, Rin.” The way he whined Rintarou’s name would forever be cemented into his mind for him to replay at will—he wasn’t sure if this was a blessing or a curse. He wasn’t sure how he would survive a game, let alone practice, after hearing that.

Of course, he obliged the request. He sheathed himself in a condom and then mentally prepared to be in Motoya. He was so hard he was leaking and was worried he would fuck this up.

He grabbed the base of his dick to calm himself down and lined himself up. He closed his eyes and pushed inside Motoya.

—

“Rin, you have to move,” Motoya whined. He felt full, so full. If Rintarou didn’t start moving soon, he’d lose the hard on that just came back.

“It just feels too good,” Rintarou murmured. He had his eyes closed and his head tilted up. “You’re so tight.” Motoya thrusted his hips, circling them in a way that got Rintarou’s attention. “Toya—“ He said warningly. He held Motoya’s hips tightly, almost bruising, as Motoya smirked and kept trying to move. “Okay, okay. I’m going.”

Rintarou snapped his hips and railed into Motoya at a grueling pace. One hand gripped Motoya’s shoulder possessively holding him. It was exactly how Motoya wanted to be fucked—he felt like he was being flattened into the bed, like all the air was being knocked out of him.

Rintarou slowed his pace to a near stop to pump Motoya’s cock, which sat red and at attention. He used his other hand to pinch and tease Motoya’s nipple, which sent a zap up Motoya’s spine.

Arching and gasping, he sat warming Rintarou’s cock, while his dick was showered with lavish attention. He tried to move—to get more leverage for his hips, but Rintarou held him down and bit his shoulder, sucking and pulling at the skin with his teeth, all the while still stroking him. His head swam and he whined in delight, heat pooled in his stomach.

“Rin, I—I’m close.”

Rintarou started moving his hips in time with his strokes. “Be good and come for me, ‘Toya.” And he did. They were rewarded with a little spend to add to the pool on Motoya’s chest.

Rintarou loved to see how Motoya’s face scrunched, how flushed he became, how blissed out he looked, how he lost all the bones in his body when he came. He kissed Motoya as he came down through a lazy smile.

“I saw some vibrators in your drawer. Should we get them for the next round?” Rintarou looked at the drawer.

“Yes, let’s get the vibrator.” Unfortunately, that meant that Rintarou had to slide out of him and he was left feeling empty.

Another round would presume the end of the first, but Rintarou hadn’t even come yet. Motoya had to remind himself that not everyone could come 5 times or more in a row like him—that was acquired stamina. Most people were one-and-done; he was lucky that Rin was indulging him this way. He was lucky Rin was still going—his achingly red cock looked like it wanted relief so badly—he was probably edging himself at this point. God, that was so hot.

“Uhh, which one?” Rintarou held up two bullets that dangled from some wires attached to a button and another that was a cock ring. He had forgotten about that one. “Both?”

Oh, he’d never used both before. “Both,” he agreed.

He held out his hand to take them, but Rintarou held the items back. “I got it.”

So he laid back on the bed with his hands behind his head and let Rintarou get to work putting them on. Rintarou pushed both bullets in as far as he could get them and then pulled the stretchy silicone cock ring around Motoya’s dick. The ring had a little slot for another bullet which needed to be turned on and then inserted, which Rintarou did with ease.

When he put that last bullet in place—the only bullet actually on so far—Motoya was already beginning to feel heat pooling in his gut as he started to get hard again. Maybe he’d be crying sooner than he usually does. The overstimulation was beginning to take hold and build inside of him. The vibrations felt good—too good—to the point that his brain was slowly melting. It felt like pins and needles that grew slowly over his body. He could feel the pressure growing from the bottom of his spine up to the top of his head. He began to float and that’s when the other two bullets turned on.

Motoya stiffened and let a guttural moan loose from the depths of his soul. He could feel Rintarou lining up as he was asked, “Does that feel good? Are you okay? Tell me to stop if it’s too much.”

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck—Yes. Yes. Yes.” Motoya’s eyes rolled backwards as Rintarou entered him. Every time the bullets were fucked into his prostate, he screamed in pleasure. Maybe if he screamed more, he could release the pressure building in his body? Tears gathered at the corners of his lashes and his chest felt like it was ready to explode. The vibrators were too much in the best possible way. He was overcome with emotion that needed to get out and the screaming wasn't helping.

It didn’t take long before tears were rolling down Motoya’s face—it was too much, too good, too perfect. His head was fuzzy. He couldn't think. He needed to come. He was close, so close, but couldn’t say so. His words were stuck in his throat. He made eye contact with Rintarou and it nearly sent him over the edge to be looked at through dark, lidded eyes that way.

“You’re so sexy,” Rintarou said as he bent down and licked the tear rolling down Motoya’s face. This time he didn’t need to be asked to come. That did it. The orgasm wracked through him and he felt like he was floating away from his body, the bed, his head, this mortal plane. Tears continued to flow. And he slowly floated back with the vague understanding that Rintarou had come too. He wasn’t sure he had ever come so hard in his life.

Before he knew it, the bullets were all removed and Rintarou was holding him, burrowing into his neck as he shivered.

“Shit.” Motoya covered his face. Rintarou stiffened, but relaxed when Motoya huffed out a laugh under his breath. “That was—you licked my face?”

“What? You didn’t like it?” Rintarou held him a little tighter, almost defensively.

“I think the problem is that I liked it a little too much.” In fact, he loved it. He wanted it again.

He could feel Rin smiling into his neck. Motoya felt all the warm and fuzzies that he’d never felt after sex before.

—

Seeing Motoya cry like that? Rintarou didn’t think it’d be that hot when Motoya first mentioned it—in fact, he was a little apprehensive at first. He wasn’t sure what empowered him to lick Motoya either, but in the moment, everything just felt right. Normally, he didn’t think crying would be his thing, but knowing that Motoya wanted it and enjoyed it that much? So fucking hot. Seeing Motoya come so much too? Shit.

Rintarou wished he had it on video. He would replay it over and over in his mind from now until the end of time. Now he could definitely never shower after practice together again.

“Rin, did you hear me?” Motoya turned his head to try to look at him. They laid in the bed and cuddled after Rintarou had cleaned them both up.

“Hm?”

“I said, we’ll have to do that again.”

Again? Hell yes. Rintarou smiled. He hoped there’d be a lot of agains.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

Spoilers: they wouldn't even be able to count the number of agains there would be.

#sunakomo #suna rintarou #komori motoya #haikyuu #fanfic #komosuna

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truebluewhocanoe · 2 years ago

Text

The True Blue You- Author Commentary

Author Notes

Hi! This is the extended Author’s Notes for my fic “The True Blue You”, which you should definitely read BEFORE reading this post.

I like the Dr Nyarlathotep niche of Doctor Who fandom a lot. I want more Dr Nyarlathotep content (that isn’t porn). I figured a good way to promote that would be to write out my own thoughts on one of my Dr Nyarlathotep works and talk about how it came together. This is that! Most of this is going to be me talking about particular passages from the fic, the thought that went into them, and the references to other stuff that I’ve snuck in. ✨Let’s begin✨

Commentary

Hence his search for the Zero Room. Wherever he left it. So that he can unravel the extradimensional parts of himself into three-dimensional space and check that everything is in order.

Finding a good word for the Doctor letting out all their Nyarly was hard but I eventually settled on “unravel” and “unfurl”, mainly for the fabric & knitting connotations, because Looms. Aw yeah.

First comes the extraspatial limbs, then the temporal ones. His temporal tendrils and hooks hang in the air around him; vestigial eyes, the crystallised irises of his past bodies, dot his face. He snags a hook on one of his sleeves; he can taste its timeline, senses tracing the thread’s creation and transformation into a garment, tears and stains and cleanings. He deftly unhooks it, then takes a closer look at the sleeve with his fifth set of eyes. Microwave reflections let him peek into the molecular structure.

First things first: this fic is, as is probably quite obvious to anyone familiar with the Dr Nyarlathotep tag, inspired by “In The Holding Tank I Built For Myself”, which I consider to be more or less the definitive work of this fandom niche. One of the many things I took from Holding Tank and incorporated into my own Dr Nyarlathotep headcanons is the idea that bits of the Doctor’s old bodies get repurposed into their extradimensional body. One of the lines of Holding Tank that stuck out to me the most was the Fifth Doctor’s eyes looking back up at the Doctor- which ends up being pivotal to this fic.

Second: I never actually explain how the Doctor’s clothes adjust to him going Nyarly. I’m not going to explain here, either.

He stretches his wings one set at a time, starting with the small, webbed ones at the base of his primary spine all the way up to the feathered vortex-gliders that span the width of the room when fully outstretched. (And, it should be noted, the Zero Room is much larger than it appears.)

This was inspired by a very old tumblr post (which I can’t find now!!!) headcanoning Time Lords are being, essentially, Time Vortex dragons. The implication is that Time Lords can, in fact, fly around in the vortex under their own power, but use TARDISes to do so the same way we use ships to cross the ocean instead of swimming it. I love this concept and had to weave it in to my personal Nyarly canon.

His hair unspools from short blond curls into nigh-Samsonian locks, closer to fibre-optic cables than keratin follicles. A crown of hard-photon horns sorts the strands, with ivory halos at regular intervals down the length to keep the bundles from separating. He leaves the ends in mind-space where they loop around the TARDIS's psychic docks. He runs his aft right hands through the hairs, untangling knots with crystal-jointed fingers.

I want to say that the Doctor getting extra long glowy anime hair was inspired by Sixie going super saiyan in the PDA The Quantum Archangel and the relevant trope from Dragonball Z, but this section was written within a couple days of the trailer for Xenoblade Chronicles 3 - Future Redeemed coming out, in which another favorite blond character of mine is revealed to have grown out his hair really long, so that’s probably where I actually got the idea from.

Time Lords plugging their hair into their TARDISes to communicate psychically was probably subconsciously inspired by Avatar (the blue people one, not The Last Airbender.)

“Crystal joints” is a phrase I use in another Dr Nyarlathotep fic of mine, A Black Fire Burning, which you could definitely say was the prototype for this fic.

Yes, the Doctor has both halos and horns, and yes, they are used for cable management. Deal with it.

Letting all of himself out is like taking off a corset after a long night.

I’ll let you decide which Doctor out of the First through Fifth has worn a corset. (My money’s on Three.)

She can’t sleep.

You might find some parallels between this fic and my last Who fic, After the Archangel, which also consists of a companion hashing things out with a Doctor after being unable to sleep due to a traumatizing adventure. I guess I have a type.

Which leads her back to the elephant in the room. The Doctor wasn’t like this when she first met her. The Doctor she’d met had been open and amiable and polite. And then he died and left her with someone she didn’t understand. Someone who apparently was not alright in the head after having come back to life, who is supposedly fine now but not the same as the way he was before.

And so we reach the elephant in the room that is this fic: I do not like that Big Finish tried to squeeze in more adventures with the Fifth Doctor and Peri between Planet of Fire and Caves of Androzani. It ruins all the appeal of their dynamic (not to mention the latter episode, one of the most beloved in all of Classic Who) and just isn’t necessary. So yeah, those episodes are not canon to this fic, and in fact you could say that the conflict of this story is in protest of their existence.

This fic hinges on the fact that Peri still would’ve had a bumpy go of things with the Fifth Doctor, because he also wasn’t a very pleasant guy to most of his companions (no shade, that’s just how 80s Who went), and also ran into a ton of extremely horrible situations! Peri’s successful companionship with the Doctor comes in spite of those facts.

Writing the dynamic (and specifically, power dynamic) between Peri and the Doctor is a very tricky wire to walk but I think I did okay, in the end. The Sixth Doctor and Peri boxset by Big Finish ends on a note of the Doctor and Peri accepting that their life together probably isn’t very sane or healthy, but they do it anyways because they enjoy it. That’s the perspective I was trying to convey here. But that’s jumping the gun a little- let’s go back to the fic.

She looks at it, a great big thorny mass, as if M.C. Escher had knitted a scarf out of barbed wire. Then, without her even blinking, the thing bends, changing without changing, the duck’s head into a rabbit’s, and she sees a great spider’s web, or perhaps anemone, a thing of tendrils and gravity-defying lines.

The ‘thorny mass’ is inspired by a certain alien structure in the book Blindsight by Peter Watts. I finished reading it right around when I started writing this fic and really wanted to sneak in something from it, mainly because it’s a great sci-fi horror book (as much as describing it as such is an injustice to all it is.) The “duck’s head into a rabbit’s” is a reference to the duck-rabbit illusion, which is also utilized in Blindsight. (Seriously, even referencing that book in my own work is a grave act of authorial hubris. I am not worthy!)

Then, something catches her attention, a blip on the radar of her millennia-made pattern-matching instincts, a slap of color and pattern that can’t be right, must be a trick of the light, a name in the static, Virgin Mary in the burnt toast.

Invoking pareidolia here.

like the figurehead on the bow of a great ship

This was one of the central mental images I had going into this fic.

Humans consider the smooth eversion of a sphere, the simplest three-dimensional object, to be a form of paradox

“Smooth eversion of a sphere” means turning it inside out without breaking the rules of topology, as you might have seen explained in this perennially recommended YouTube video.

but his larboard greater forewing

Larboard is an outdated nautical term for “the left of the ship”, which was replaced by “port” due to how similar to “starboard” is sounded. Including it here is a reference to its infamous use in a certain fight in Final Fantasy XIV. I knew I wanted to use “larboard” to describe something of the Doctor’s Nyarlyness, which inspired the use of the similarly nautical “aft” earlier in the fic.

From seemingly random places across his body, purple-gold strands of what looks like stardust reach outwards, pulled taut clinging to thin air.

Inspired by, of all things, Origin Forme Giratina, as elucidated in this tumblr post.

She can’t make out his legs, the lower half of his body caught in a mirage with the posture of Schrodinger’s indecisive cat.

Of course, my headcanon for Sixie’s Nyarlathotep form is a bit more than “eldritch cat”, but I still wanted to work something feline in. The Doctor’s form seeming to be multiple things at once in a quantum sort of way was inspired by they'll turn me in your arms, lady by @lurking-latinist.

She can make out his face. It's almost the same, save for the spots that shine like jewels dotting it in two parallel lines like tear-trails beneath his eyes.

Knowing that the topmost pair of "jewels" is the Fifth Doctor's eyes, the mentioned “dozen" implies that every regeneration adds another pair, bumping the rest further down. A Time Lord on their last regeneration probably has eyes down to their collarbones!

Hold on, his arm shouldn't be bending that far. Counts the fingers on each hand- six. Wait, that’s not right.

I originally planned a bit where the Doctor held up all his fingers when checking that Peri was OK, only for her to count more than ten of them, but it didn't really work logistically (moved the Doctor checking Peri from the hallway to her room) or tonally (not the right place for humor.)

aquamarine nodules

I solemnly vow to never refer to the Fifth Doctor's eyes as "aquamarine nodules" ever again.

Hey, at least I didn’t call them "orbs"

“Um, Zee- Zed, sorry, Y, X, W, U, no, I mean V, then U, T, S, Q- is it Q?”

[...]

“Um, I was a kid playing in the backyard and a ladybug landed on my hand,” she manages to spit out, “And my mom told me about how they’re helpful because they eat other bugs.”

The Doctor sticks out an index finger, pointing up. “Follow my finger with your eyes and tell me more about ladybirds.”

“Lady- oh, right.

Emphasizing the emotional distance between two characters by highlighting their linguistic differences.

She couldn't quite make out what it was he was expecting her to say, so instead she looks a bit higher, at the strangely familiar blue… things… on his face.

Can you tell that I REALLY didn't want to call them orbs?

"I'm afraid I can't answer that, Peri," he responds, and she expects him to leave it at that but he continues, "Wanderlust is a powerful thing, not to mention its cousin, curiosity. I can only speak from my own experiences, but I find the more painful parts of the universe to spur me further onwards. Both to find the brighter spots, and to help where I can."

[...]

"In all my experience with your kind, Peri, I've found that no one is ever 'just' something. You're much, much more than that, Perpugilliam Brown."

Writing TV!Sixth Doctor is hard. Really hard. It’s hard to pull something consistent out of a character that was being actively sabotaged by the writers. So if it seems like EU!Sixth Doctor just shows up out of nowhere once we switch to Peri’s last POV section: sorry! I tried my best to communicate how unsure the Doctor is of where he takes this conversation. He’s more or less defaulting to mirroring what Peri throws at him… right when she takes a leap of faith and opens up to him. This is, more or less, supposed to be the moment in Sixie’s life where he realizes the value of not being so damn prickly all the time. He comes out of this story kind, if not quite wise to human nature yet. He’ll get there!

He pauses, and reaches up to feel his face. Back to normal.

An idea occurred to me to imply that some remnant of the Fifth Doctor kept the eyes out in a really weird self-wingman tactic, but I don't like the implication that the past incarnations are separate consciousnesses, so I didn't go through with it

It's at that moment the Doctor realizes that Peri is, for all intents and purposes, more accepting of his being a polydimensional monstrosity with vestigial bits of his own corpses repurposed as sensory organs, than she is of his fashion sense.

“Monstrous” being the word that the Doctor mouthed earlier to complete Peri’s sentence. The biggest difference between this fic and the aforementioned Holding Tank is that the Sixth Doctor lacks the self-hatred the Doctor has regarding his Nyarlyness in that fic (and that the Fifth Doctor is implied to have in this one.) That’s TV!Six’s pride coming in to play. But as we see after Peri sees him, he’s got some frustrations with the fact that his full existence is inherently dangerous to other species. At some point during his conversation with Peri, it does occur to him that she very easily could have left the TARDIS over this, hence his final words to her before bidding her goodnight.

Closing Thoughts

Overall, my goals for this fic were: 1. Believably write the Doctor and Peri coming to an understanding after Season 22 that doesn’t just full-on retcon the shitty writing (yes, a lot of their interactions that season are just poorly written.) and 2. Write a long Dr Nyarlathotep fic that doesn’t resort to just making the Sixth Doctor an eldritch cat AND doesn’t use the word “tentacle” at any point, because that’s not what I’m about. I personally think I met both those goals, so I’m quite proud! Hopefully it produced a fun read. And thank you for reading this full-on author commentary!

#doctor who #doctor who fanfiction #author notes #author commentary #dr nyarlathotep #sixth doctor #peri brown

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zaenaris · 2 years ago

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I loved the idea that you wrote in one of your fics, about Senju being passive aggressive with Waka and Benkei. I mean they may have had their reasons to go with Mikey (and it's not very clear when we read it) but they still abandonned Senju. and i'm pretty sure that, since they had abandonnement issues, it has deeply hurted her.

Also do you think that Mikey anbd Sanzu are in prison in your mabu post fight fic?

thank you for reading my fic❤️

yeah, after the fight, of course she'd be happy to have Waka and Benkei back, but their whole modus operandi was really stupid, even Inupi said it in their face that what they were doing made no sense

And we know Benkei and Waka were brother figures to her, and were Inupi's senpais, both Seishu and Senju cared about them and had a good relationship with them until before the KMG fight.

Inupi's priority was to get Koko back, and he did, therefore he can... let slide(?) the thing a little more (he still believes Waka and Benkei acted like fools, but he can also see that they didn't know how to help MIkey and they probably felt guilty they later stayed more with Senju after Shin's death, rather than Mikey - here I also personally headcanon that Waka started having drinking problems after Shin's death, but since he already had the gym with Benkei, he(Benkei) helped Waka. Of course we know Takeomi had his problems as well after BD disbanded and after Shin's death, but Waka and Benkei seem to have a deeper bond with each other rather than with Takeomi, that according to his profile in the 4th character book, look down on him)

meanwhile, Senju wanted to save Haru and to understand what happened to BenWaka, that had been with her for all that time, so she would have taken it more personally, even if she also realized they probably felt sorry for Mikey. Yet, I think for a few time she would be a little mad at them, but happy the're back

in general yes, i think sooner or later mikey and sanzu would end up in juvie for a while. Kakucho was stabbed/killed(?) and Takemichi as well, it's impossible to hide those things, there would have been an investigation. But I believe that, even with juvie, it would have been for the better. Mikey, as Draken believed was necessary, would have “looked at the sky” metaphorically after a defeat; we know when he felt guilty he let other people hit him and i think that, even if many things were the dark impulses fault, Mikey was still "sentient" in many moments and he allowed some not okay things, that's why i think that some time in juvie would help him feel that he'd made amends for everything.

same with sanzu, he was a victim of DI too and he also saw some terrible things in the other TL, that's why he had so many problems. But i think that afte the defeat of the DI, he would improve as well

#tokyo revengers #manjiro sano #sanzu haruchiyo #senju akashi #inui seishu #imaushi wakasa #benkei #arashi keizou #akashi takeomi #zae talks about tr #asks #mabu tl

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rozugold · 2 years ago

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Hello friend!!

Apologies for the wait it took me to respond to you — I only just checked back in with my ao3 account and noticed your comment, and since you don’t have an account yourself I’m unsure if you’d see my reply. So here I am, plaguing your inbox with it instead! I do hope it isn’t a bother, haha.

I was really very happy to see your name again. Admittedly I’ve saved all the incredible artwork my fic received over the course of my writing it, but yours genuinely have a very special place in my heart as some of the first and last I ever received. I still recall opening my inbox and seeing the notification the first time; it was so surreal to me that people would draw anything based on my works. Your art of Tommy and Techno sitting back to back, as well as your art of the forest trio at the end, serve almost as mental book-ends for me; I return to them often just to admire it, and to remember how happy it all made me. I can hardly believe it’s been more than two years, goodness.

I was also shocked to hear you may be putting together a playlist—if you would be so kind, I would love to know what songs might be on it! At your leisure of course, and only if you feel like sharing it, the thought alone is more than enough <3 thank you kindly for all of your support, truly, and once again for your gorgeous art. The memories have gotten me through many a dark day.

- Que (WWHWI)

HELLOOO QUEEEE it’s so good to hear from you again :D!!!! And yeah I should really get on getting an account already, it would probably make things a lot more convenient. BUT account or not you’re always welcomed to plague my inbox :]

And waaa I’m happy that you still like the fanart I made! I’m glad it’s stuck with you as much as your writing has stuck with me. SPEAKING OF WRITING I forgot you had so much of it??? Once life settles down a bit im definitely gonna make my way through them, so don’t be surprised if you see my name in the comments later on eheheh

AND YES PLAYLIST!! OK if I’m gonna be honest, the reason I started making this is because of god of war sjshSJDHD Every time I get into new media it only gives me ideas for the old media I’m trying to escape /j Two years man, and still these blorbos live in my brain rent free

I’m gonna ramble about each song now >:D warning spoilers for if you hadn’t read the fic!

First is Cave by Cody Fry! I wanted an instrumental to start it off and a song to represent the explosion of Manburg; I think this song serves that purpose well!

Half-Mast by Branches is a song I use in my other dsmp related playlists to represent Doomsday but it works so well in this context

^ this bit especially reminds me of Tommy and Wilbur ;;;;;

Casualty by Hidden Citizens & Tash is just absolutely perfect for Tommy. The scene of him screaming out in grief surrounded by the rubble that used to be his home- waaa it’s so good, both the song and scene

Sorrow by Sleeping at Last is for Tommy slowly learning how to live after the explosion (or at least learn how to function again :[ pobrecito..)

The Corner Dwellers by The Vocal Few is a Techno and Tommy song! It simply reminds me of them :’]

To Forgive or to Kill by Bear McCreary was chosen mostly for the title and the fact that it was from the God of War soundtrack skdhdhdh Incase you’re unfamiliar with the game, this song plays during a scene where one of the main characters is debating on whether to forgive or kill another character but ultimately realizes that she can’t do either. So naturally I thought this song would be good for when Tommy saves Schlatt from Technoblade! I’d like to have more instrumentals in this playlist but we shall see,, I’m very picky when it comes to instrumentals skdjddj

Carnivore by Bear Attack! Ok I might replace this song with something else later since it reminds me of c!Tommy and c!Dream’s relationship more than Tommy and Schlatt’s from WWHWI. But it’s works for now! Something to represent their first argument chat after the whole getting locked up bit

Marble Floors by Vian Izak & Juniper Vale is here to sorta represent Tommy longing for his life before the explosion and when he still had Tubbo.

^ also just,, this bit.. Ow

Drown by Seafret is for when Tommy gets blown up by the creeper. Just that scene where it starts off as a dream sequence then slowly twists until he’s suddenly shocked back into reality— GOSH it’s so good. And then the crisis he has afterwards when he bandages himself up, it’s probably my favorite scene. It’s so well done and makes me feel so much ;;;;;

Battling Life by The Dunwells is for Technoblade!! (And a little for Tommy too, now that I’m looking at the lyrics again) Gosh, the man gets injured but he doesn’t let that stop him from taking care of things and taking care of Tommy. You captured his perseverance and stubbornness perfectly :’]

Blood Upon the Snow by Hozier & Bear McCreary! Here I go, to shamelessly smoosh two of my interests together again skdhdj This song is also for Technoblade but more for his exhausted god-ness you characterize him with. (Atleast I think he’s a god in WWHWI? Or is he just a well known champion? Immortal? My memory sucks, I’ll have to find out when I reread it) This song is just super cool and reminded me of technoblade and is part of the reason why I started making this playlist skdjdjjd

Brother by Kodaline… what is there to say? They’re brothers :’’] BUT ALSO WHILE SKIMMING CHAPTER 15 EARLIER I FOUND THIS LINE: “"Stay here," he said to the man who'd long since become his family…” HELLO?? EXCuse me while I go sob

Sirens by Oliver Daldry, I may be wildly misinterpreting this song for this playlist but SCREW IT it reminds me of them okay

This repeating lyric serves as a little nod to the fact that this is an au. How Techno, Tommy and Schlatt would have all been strangers in this world if certain circumstances didn’t lead them to eachother

This bit reminds me of Schlatt @ Tommy, I don’t think he ever outright asks for forgiveness but in time they both find some peace with eachother.

All three of them are so different from eachother but they still care for eachother :’]

The Cave by Mumford & Sons acts as a sort of summary of this story to me! I imagine the first verse is from Techno’s pov, the second is from Tommy’s, and the last is from Schlatt’s.

This bit changes meaning depending on the pov. For Techno it’s him taking care of Tommy, ‘changing his ways’ yknow, or atleast adding the family role to his list of titles.

For Tommy it’d be him taking care of Techno, “finding strength in pain” and learning to move forward despite everything that’s happened

And for Schlatt it’s for him rushing out to help Tommy and Techno during the final battle. Man doesn’t even hesitate :’D

Gosh and just the line “I’ll know my name as it’s called again”. All three of them grew into people they never thought they’d be!! And despite a huge part of their lives is shaped from tragedy they’re okay in the end. It was far from easy but they’re okay. And that’s just so comforting yknow? This story is so comforting and beautiful and raw and I just love it with all my being ;;;;;

Wow that was long and a little all over the place lol!! I’m still working on this playlist as I go but that’s all I have so far :]

#I hope you can see why this took so long to answer sjsgsjk #also it makes me so happy that the playlist starts and ends with a song named Cave :]#rozu asks #anonymous #WWHWI

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simplytheevebest · 2 years ago

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Headcanon Time: Farah's Recovery (from the opinion of a non-doctor who did surface-level research and absolutely doesn't claim to know what she's talking about)

Considering how involved and concerned Terra was with Musa's magical recovery, I can only imagine how involved she'd be with Farah's. Musa gave up lost her magic but Farah was "dead" for an indeterminate amount of time(? I can't remember if it was said how long), came back as a force ghost trapped in a fern, and then had to recharge her magic and strength to regain her corporeal form (this is what happened, fight me canon).

But like, taking away the death-not-death magical aspect and just looking at a physical recovery, and setting aside that canonically Farah's body would've needed to be "regained" because I personally much prefer the headcanon that she rose from the grave, spirit and body intact, you can't just jump up from such a lengthy period of inactivity and be fine. It's been anywhere from a few months to a year since the events of season 1 (if season 1 took place during the winter semester and Rosalind took over for the spring semester it's been a few months; if we pick up during the new fall semester it's been about half a year). That's a long time not to be moving or working your brain (also depending on when she was found). Terra mentioned physical therapy for Musa concerning her wounds, and I personally know people who have had surgeries and recovered from horrible injuries and had to relearn how to walk, talk, eat, etc. So I definitely subscribe to the idea that Farah will need this too.

Combining my love of angsty realism and the magic of Fate, Farah has a long road of recovery ahead of her and she's never going to be just as she was before. Like even if you injure yourself in some smaller way, it can impact your health years into the future. I almost broke my toe over a decade ago and to this day it aches in the rain and humidity. Farah's likely already got scars from serving under Rosalind, which isn't going to help her recovery from literally dying either. So right out of the gate she's probably definitely going to have to regain motor function and she's highly likely to need to regain mental strength as well. And realistically there are other world doctors who would step in to properly assess but that sounds exhausting so instead, Ben and Terra are in charge of Farah's recovery and Terra is absolutely going to make sure Farah sticks to it because lord knows Farah won't be diligent. Yet she'll be impatient and frustrated at herself for not being able to walk short distances without her legs shaking or running out of breath, or being unable to pin up her hair because her arms can't support themselves. She might struggle to get her fingers to cooperate to write, or muddle words and phrases in her head and be unable to coherently express them. She won't be able to teach a class, or go on walks, or maybe even eat without assistance at first. She won't be able to do paperwork, or speak her thoughts clearly, or write down what she wants to say if she can't speak it.

There's a whole host of other things that could impact her: impaired motor function, nerve damage, brain damage, crush syndrome, respiratory issues, cardiac issues, seizures, numbness, organ failure, paralysis, etc. Like I've never been buried alive so I can't speak from experience nor do I know anyone that has, but just imagining, magic aside, that she was essentially in a coma underground for a week at least definitely means she's not coming out unscathed. And considering the magic would've saved her from the worst of it (the irreparable life-threatening complications like necrosis or organ failure) I still choose to believe she's going to have to relearn some skills and rebuild her strength because even if she remembers how to walk, she might not have the muscle strength to do so.

Which of course opens the door for so many angsty hurt/comfort fics (and I have read some excellent ones that are escaping me, forgive me) of the teens convincing Farah to take it easy on herself because they love and care about her, or Saul helping Farah with her hair after she tearfully concedes she needs the help. Because Farah is strong and proud and she won't want to admit weakness even when she has so many to support her. And sure, perhaps her recovery isn't that extensive, it depends on your interpretation of her injuries, but these are just a few examples of ways she could be impacted.

And then there's her magic. She's a mind fairy, so if her mind itself is healing there's no way she's going to have total control over her powers from the get-go. Which means intrusive thoughts and feelings of others in her head without being able to block them out, accidental projecting onto others, headaches, and that's just the mind. Farah is also a master of the other magics, so now we're considering random lights going on and off or exploding, liquids boiling over or freezing solid. Plants growing out of control, random flying objects from her haywire telekinesis. We had a glimpse into out of control magic when the Winx channeled it into the stone and forgot to cut it off. Farah is unfathomably more powerful than them, so her magic going off the cuff is problematic and potentially dangerous.

The magic is what's going to get to Farah the most, I think, because so much of her identity is rooted in being the powerful fairy she is, and especially because of Rosalind's influence. With her magic being so uncontrollable, she's going to suggest that the runic limiters be put on herself, and there's not a single person who will agree to that. Farah is going to have to practice what she preaches and be patient and kind with her own magic rehabilitation just as she is with her students. And I think Stella would be an excellent candidate for this, because she's benefited from Farah's teachings the most. And for all of s2's faults, I really did love and enjoy the character development with Stella because she really came into her own this season and demonstrated, to me, the kind of queen she will be, which according to her positive feelings towards Farah in the prequel, is likely very much influenced by Farah. So to have Stella directly involved in helping rehabilitate Farah's magic as Farah did for her is, I think, a great little parallel moment.

Again, I'm not a doctor, nor do I possess any reliable medical knowledge beyond my obsession with medical dramas, which is to say I have no clue what is and is not something that could be a side effect of being comatose and buried alive while also spreading your life force into the plants around you. But this is a show about fairies and magic so I'm allowing myself a bit of slack with accuracy here, because it's become my personal headcanon that Farah required physical, mental, and magical therapy after her nap and it was a long, slow process hindered by her own impatience and final confrontation with Rosalind, in which she was definitely not up to full power and probably would've died for real if, say, Bloom hadn't stepped in to vaporize Rosalind to save her headmistress. I'm just drawn to the idea of Farah's recovery having that ounce of realism that means she doesn't just wake up and go about like it's a normal day. Let her injuries be real and life changing as is the case for so many people, and let her have the support and love of others to rely on. No quick fix. But that's just me.

#eve best #fate the winx saga #ftws #fate winx saga #fate: the winx saga #farah dowling #long post #fate headcanons

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sapphicwhxre · 4 years ago

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ASTERIA'S 2.5K FOLLOWER FIC REC LIST

i read fics just as much as i write them so here are some of my favourites. tysmsm for this milestone, i love you all <3 quick note: i didn't re-tag anyone if i recommended more than one of your works because of the tag limit.

───────── girls ─────────

hermione granger

tuesdays - @stupxfy

probably one of my all time favs for hermione. it's just so well written and adorable and fluffy and yes.

if i could tell her - @hellounicorn

pining, pining, PINING. the way these emotions and hermione's described is just... art. perfection. there's a happy ending and it is so worth the build up.

darling dearest - @dracolvr

fluffy goodness. read to be hopelessly in love with hermione ─ which, let's be real, we all are.

november rain - @pansydaisy

uhm i love this one sm. it's so simple but amazing ─ everyone has their days like this and having hermione to cure them? it's what everyone needs.

i need more - @15-dogs

i sobbed the first time i read this. it'll break your heart but it's so amazingly written that it's worth the sadness. actual gut wrenching / mindblowing writing.

how the potter girls react to you in lingerie - @pottersanime

the title. need i say more?

honeyed eyes - @minty-malfoy

HEAVEN. being hermione's first kiss as friend? but both of you idiots liking each other? oh my god, sign me up.

hugging her from behind - @pastanest

again, the title. read to feel 🥺💙

grey days - @pepperimps01

PANSMIONE 😌😌 it's angsty with a happy ending and i love it sm. this does such a perfect job of capturing pansy and hermione's relationship growing and having its ups and downs with just a few paragraphs. honestly so good

grenade - @hellounicorn

another one that'll make your heart shatter. but in the best way. these are the fics i live for where the you can't help but feel like it's really happening to you and hermione and god it's so fucking powerful. underrated writing right here in general. and also pansmione is the loml so it hurts in that way.

honeybees - @pansydaisy

fluffy aesthetic heaven.

lead the way - @teacup-tai

more pansmione but this is pure filthy thinking and satisfies all the sexual tension dreams pansmione shippers have.

two queens in a king sized bed - @shysneeze

domestic christmas morning with hermione and it's angelic.

would you still love me if i turned into a worm? - @minty-malfoy

one of those blurbs i never imagined i'd read or love so much. not to mention it's spot on and adorable.

pansy parkinson

right and wrong - @starrkidmalfoy

a first kiss and the overdone trope that i will never get sick of, the bitch who's soft only for you. the descriptions in this are perfection and the writing is beautiful <3

messed up - @writseo

toxic, messed up love fics will be the death of me. insane how well you captured it all and i just yes damn fucking props.

pansy parkinson imagine - @moonlight-imagines

*screams* THE BEST FRIEND BANTER + THE ENDING OH MY GOD OH MY GOD ─ I SCREAMED WHEN I FIRST READ THIS. I LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE IT.

dating pansy would include - @lotsoffandomimagines

ABSOLUTE POWER COUPLE SHIT and to this day, pansy saying "jealous much?" when being scolded for pda remains iconic.

grey days - @pepperimps01

as i said before: PANSMIONE 😌😌 it's angsty with a happy ending and i love it sm. this does such a perfect job of capturing pansy and hermione's relationship growing and having its ups and downs with just a few paragraphs. honestly so good

new rules - @silversslytherin

excuse me this is immaculate ─ pansy is the best friend and the second you see that she's also the best s/o, you're done for. perfection.

study "dates" - @turning-dreams-into-chaos

the title is self explanatory and this whole thing is fluffy heaven <3

how the potter girls react to you in lingerie - @pottersanime

read the title, thank me later.

lead the way - @teacup-tai

more pansmione but this is pure filthy thinking and satisfies all the sexual tension dreams pansmione shippers have.

traitor - @hufflepuff-writings

a masterpiece where pansy chooses the wrong side in the battle of hogwarts. this ties up so well and the writing is so powerful.

back alley love potions - @a-simple-imagine

this actually hurts but in a beautiful way. watching pansy give draco a love potion is such a fucking concept and this is executed incredibly.

my little bunny - @emmamarie7708

pansy making you do this is so dirty yet she's slightly sweet and i am a sucker for it. god is a woman and her name is pansy fucking parkinson.

pansy parkinson imagine - @moonlight-imagines

i'll let pansy beat people up for me all day. they put me in madame pomfrey's, feel my girlfriend's wrath.

ginny weasley

blissful - @enyastasia

fluffy ginny goodness. the friends to lovers? the amazing kiss? 🥺🥺🥺💞💞 this fic lives in my heart <3

bubble pop electric - @hunnypot-imagines

this is hotter than a lot of actual smut and the chemistry is so... wow. ginny weasley owns me.

dear ginny - @alyssamalfoy

how does this short ass letter manage to make me feel so much. it's sorcery but i don't even care, it's beautiful.

wildflower - @pansydaisy

will i ever get tired of cheeky i love yous? not when loves like ginny weasley and ayli's so so pretty writing exist.

all i want - @hellounicorn

ouch. fuck you harry :) quite possibly the best ginny fic i have ever read. insanely talented writing, i genuinely feel every touch of emotion you put down and you need to know how amazing that is. keep breaking my heart.

linny hcs - @bluebirdlinginthenest

who doesn't need good linny content in their life?

how the potter girls react to you in lingerie - @pottersanime

sexy bitch, fuck me up.

willow - @padmeamiala

ginny is the loml. her brothers can cry about it.

bellatrix lestrange

attempting to bake with bellatrix - @carters-coffee

MY FAVOURITE BELLA FIC ─ there's not enough bellatrix fluff out there but this makes up for the lack of. heaven.

bellatrix prompt - @carters-coffee

this gives me chills. she knows she's a bad bitch and that's what we love about her.

change of plans - @dumb-sbian

why THE FUCK have i not had a rainy morning with bellatrix? she can sleep and mumble something just like this and i'm still head over heels for her.

being tortured as bellatrix's girlfriend - @writings-of-a-british-fangirl

definitely a concept BUT this makes me feel some type of way and i recommend giving it a minute of your time 😌

bellatrix finding out you're a muggleborn - @carters-coffee

the beauty, the nuance omg. this is art.

bellatrix prompt - @carters-coffee

yep jealous bella. trust me, im all yours mommy <3

sex with bellatrix would include - @onegayastronaut

so short but... sign. me. up.

luna lovegood

never leave - @/deactivated

luna smut is hard asf to come by and this is my favourite. it's so luna and the pain over her not knowing, not getting that closure about how you feel until this is an amazing rollercoaster.

she - @hunnypot-imagines

the beauty of falling in love with luna, through this majorly talented writing. ten out of fucking ten. i will not elaborate but there's also majorly good association in this imo.

silver berries and flickering fireflies - @duskgrangers

i love this fic so much. she's so herself and that is why we ✨ simp ✨ and the scene set just sounds so prettyy

how the potter girls react to you in lingerie - @pottersanime

luna + this title? yes please, ma'am i am simping.

would you still love me if i turned into a worm? - @minty-malfoy

put me in your pocket luna. im begging you.

dancing in the rain with luna - @/deactivated

only luna would get you a dress to go dancing in the rain and this is the stuff of blissful, fluffy dreams.

hugging her from behind - @pastanest

short and cute, do me a favour and read it :)

dating luna lovegood would go like - @glossymalfoy

life is NOT worth it if you don't read these cute little headcanons and imagine dating ravenclaw's baddest bitch.

linny hc - @bluebirdlinginthenest

like i said, who doesn't need good linny content?

cho chang

strawberry kisses - @pansydaisy

the only cho fic i've been able to find and it's SO WORTH IT. the cutest, it flows so well, and i absolutely love it. i need this with cho tbh.

fleur delacour

toutes les etoiles - @coffee--writes

im in love with fleur and this amazing writing. and for the first time since i started high school, my three years of taking french feel good for something.

being best friends with fleur would include - @harrypotter-imaginess

not romantic but actually so sweet pls. i want this friendship in my life so bad.

nymphadora tonks

dating nymphadora tonks would include - @imaginesforgirls

dating her + that warm little feeling of bliss that only HCs can give you

taking care of her after the war - @random-imagines-blog

this kind of hurts in that good ass way and i lovee it. they're simple hcs but i feel for tonks so much and then there's that warm lil feeling when you're the one to put her back together aand now my primary life goal is to help this woman heal.

───────── boys ─────────

harry potter

phosphenes - @minty-malfoy

ok shakespeare, the fuck?? this fic will never not get me right in the heart. the angst, holy fuck. and for once, the reader doesn't hurt harry and let draco walk all over them and it's just done so well. the transition from a toxic relationship to a sweet, loving one PLEASE. it's beautiful.

happy memories - @15-dogs

how does this manage to be so. smutty and fluffy at the same time? this is one of those short ones that has lived in my head, rent-free since i read it. and tbh any fic that includes expecto patronum is guaranteed to be good.

come back to me - @wondernimbus

right from the beginning, it's a mess of emotions both good and bad. that kind of good ass writing that hits you in the heart <3

making out with harry potter would include - @badfvith

read this title. done? now thank me later.

harry prompt - @thoseofgreatambition

harry x a sarcastic swooning bitch is an elite trope idc. short and sweet, i'm marrying this fic.

keep your eyes on the prize - @rowema-ravenclaw

first of all, showing harry up and second, pure fluff (and a little steam) right after. i also love how she writes harry in general because he's totally safe/in love with the relationship but still has that awkward lovable shyness and i just... *sighs*

always - @pansydaisy

uhm i will always love him and always reread this a thousand times so its a fit title + a good read.

late night studying - @lumosandnoxwriting

fuck studying, let his hand stay in my shirt. once again recommending fluffy bliss in the form of a short read that makes me feel things <3

would you still love me if i turned into a worm? - @minty-malfoy

he's so stupid. but he still loves you + this is from our resident perfectly talented writer so its a win.

cuddling after a rough quidditch practice - @badfvith

harry james potter is : b a b y

gryffindor's victory - @rowema-ravenclaw

make me gryffindors fucking cheerleader because HOT HOT HOT HOT HOT. AND THE WRITING IS IMMACULATE PLEASE. just read it, you won't regret it.

draco malfoy

silent treatment - @slytherinwh0re

andy's mad talented and this is just... insert a cheesy chefs kiss. unbelievably adorable but so fucking hot and an actually good smut plot (which is rare lmfao). remind me to give draco the silent treatment every time im upset.

rewards - @malfoysstilinski

so hot PLS. hype him up for the match and get your reward, bye. so good.

reading between the lines - @minty-malfoy

i've said this a thousand times but that's what happens when you've got a mad talented mutual BLESSING everyone with beauty like this. butterflies and warm feelings all around when i read this 💓

point of view - @draconisxcaput

its angst for hermione and fluff for you but overall ethereal writing. i am never going to recover from the pure talent that this is.

im not kidding im dying - @malfoysmatrioshka

i hate being sick with a passion but this... this would make it worth it.

hogwarts express - @/deactivated

draco fucking you because he knows harry's watching. the shit of legends and god is it hot.

draco laughing at you because you can't walk after sex - @glossymalfoy

*motions to the title* fluff with this loser 😌

the cheeseburger - @slytherinwh0re

really short read but this is one of those things i just. didn't know i needed. you're missing out and haven't even realised it if you haven't read about introducing him to cheeseburgers. and that ending is so funny/in character to me i fucking love it.

four am - @malfoysstilinski

domestic draco 🥺 but also sad draco 🥺 and then fluffy draco 🥺

hugging him from behind - @pastanest

real short and it'll brighten your day <3

would you still love me if i turned into a worm? - @minty-malfoy

how is it that this is so stupidly adorable. i love it 💘

ron weasley

heather - @hellounicorn

always making me cry with your fics i swearrr. this is a must-read. having someone but them not really being yours is a beautiful trope and this fic absolutely does it wonderful, poetic justice. your angst is addicting.

apple pie - @pregnant-piggy

ABSOLUTE DOMESTIC BLISS I AM IN LOVE. i don't even like kids or baking that much but this made me so soft. the whole cozy, heavenly vibes from this fic yes yes yes.

jealousy - @writeroutoftime

cliché jealousy turns friends to lovers and i am a sucker for it all over again <3

shaking and trembling - @ronsbadidea

if ron doesn't finger fuck me and then make a cheeky comment about it in class later then WHAT IS THE POINT :(

mixed signals - @iamthecabbage

i've always figured ron is this awkward idiot cutie with a crush and yea, this is it.

fred and george weasley

i love you, but you don't - @george-fabian-weasley

fred's a character i really don't read for often but goddamn. it's the saddest, most beautiful mix of rejection and pain and fred desperately caring but not in the way you want him to ─ an angsty masterpiece.

cockwarming george - @roonilwazlibimagines

because of this filthy gem, i one hundred thousand percent believe that he could make me cum without even fucking me and this is just... it's a good fucking read.

would you still love me if i turned into a worm? - @minty-malfoy

their responses are so wonderfully chaotic and adorable and GOD you're missing out if you haven't read these lil blurbs.

─

#harry potter x reader #hermione granger x reader #pansy parkinson x reader #luna lovegood x reader #ginny weasley x reader #draco malfoy x reader #fred weasley x reader #george weasley x reader #cho chang x reader #nymphadora tonks x reader #bellatrix lestrange x reader #ron weasley x reader #fleur delacour x reader #harry potter #fic recs #masterlist #smut #fluff #angst

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teletraan-meets-jarvis · 3 years ago

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Pieces - Chapter 1

Hi everyone!

Happy 45th Anniversary to Star Wars and Kenobi eve!!!! As a contribution to the celebrations, I've decided to kick off posting of my Commander Wolffe/OFC fic 'Pieces'!

For the posting schedule, I'll aim to release fortnightly on Sundays.

Synopsis:

Having trained her whole life to keep the peace, Jedi Padawan Issa Straun is thrust into the start of the Clone Wars, expected to take command of the 104th alongside the gruff Commander Wolffe. They wade through battle after battle, trying to find their feet sharing the responsibility of leadership under Plo Koon, but what neither of their training could prepare them for was how the war would leave scars to last a lifetime.

Chapter 1

AO3 Link

Pairing: Commander Wolffe/OC Issa Straun

Warnings: M - Canon typical violence, cursing

Word Count - 6.5k

A/N: I would just like to take the chance to thank the INCREDIBLE @wild-karrde who has listened to my ramblings about this fic month after month, who has dutifully beta read all my work and dealt with my abysmal grammar and punctuation. This story probably wouldn't exist without her backing and support and I am just eternally grateful, so thank you my friend!! 💚

Masterlist | Next Chapter

Blaster fire rained down, smashing into the crates surrounding them and making the commander wince as he ducked down further to protect his head. We need a new plan to get around these sniper droids. Across the battlefield, he watched as the rest of his troops got pushed back by the enemy’s ambush, retreating for whatever cover they could find. One of the shinies was knocked to the ground as he turned his back towards the enemy for cover, his shout of pain hardly registering over the battering of blaster bolts around them.

A trickle of sweat slid down the commander’s temple beneath his helmet as he flexed his jaw at the sight of his downed trooper. Osik. “Sir, we’re pinned. Besh team can’t advance until we take out those snipers,” his sergeant’s voice crackled over their helmet comms, sounding more frustrated by the second. You and me both, the commander thought as he ground his teeth together even further while more debris showered over them from the enemy’s onslaught. The entire mission had gone aft up the second their boots hit the ground and they were faced with a much larger enemy force than intelligence had suggested.

The commander’s head cycled through images of previous battle simulations, trying to find any similar situations which could spark inspiration from the catalogue in his mind. After a few seconds, the memories behind his eyes halted on simulation 309216, one from his ARC training. We’ve got you now clankers. He felt it as his body thrummed with the pace of battle, his heart battering against his rib cage as he sucked in a few breaths before clicking on his comm.

”Alright troopers! Listen up. Aurek and Cresh teams, send out four troopers to distract the snipers, Besh will provide cover fire while the remaining groups make a break for the towers and load them with droid poppers. Any questions?”

“No sir!”

“Good. On my mark… three… two… one, NOW!”

Just as Aurek and Cresh teams made their advance, a monotonous voice cut through the blaster fight and stopped the clones in their tracks.

“SIMULATION TERMINATED.”

Immediately, the battlefield around them fritzed out of existence, leaving the troopers in a daze as the bright lights of Kamino’s training facility came back into focus once more. The soldiers present moaned at the loss of the battle, their adrenaline running high and blood boiling for the continued fight.

Their helmets snapped upwards as the speakers in the room crackled to life once more. “CC-3636, please report to Taun We’s office,” a Kaminoan’s voice boomed through the tannoy, echoing off the simulation room walls.

Wolffe looked around. He could practically feel his troopers’ excitement in the air as the realisation of what was about to happen hit everyone in the room. It’s time. Since his helmet was on, he allowed himself a smirk before addressing his men. “Looks like we’re shipping out boys.” The room erupted in cheers and whoops, brothers in arms clapping each other enthusiastically on the back as they got ready to fulfil their true purpose. With an added spring in his step, Wolffe exited the training room to find out exactly who their battalion would be assigned to.

About damn time.

—---

Issa stared intently down at the sleeve of her auburn robe. The stitching had started to come apart, leaving some loose threads dangling from the seam. She pulled at one of them but it refused to budge, causing her face to scrunch at the offending string, as if it was personally mocking her. Beside her, a modulated chuckle sounded from her Master as he placed a clawed hand over her blue one, making her pause. “Relax, little one.”

“Sorry, Master,” the Pantoran sighed, not quite understanding why she was so nervous. Well that was a bit of a lie, it was very clear why she was nervous. Preparing to meet a battalion of cloned soldiers so that she could fight in a full-scale galactic war wasn’t really an everyday occurrence for the Jedi. She looked up at the Kel Dor next to her who was peering out the side of the transport they were on. Master Plo radiated tranquillity from his every pore and Issa had never been more jealous. There was so much unknown in their future that she was unable to let her feelings flow out into the Force. What was war like? How long will we be fighting? What will the clones be like? Can I actually fight and be the leader the army needs? The list goes on. Her mind refused to be silent as each question bounced back and forth.

Trying to refocus, the young woman paid attention to her teacher once more. “Master, how are you so calm?” Issa questioned, hoping to find comfort in Master Plo’s inevitably wise words.

He turned to face her, a friendly softness around his eyes that always seemed to pull some of the weight off of her shoulders. “Because I trust in the Force, Issa. As do you. This new chapter may seem daunting and uncharted, but it is for the greater good of the galaxy, for the good of the Republic. I believe you are ready for this challenge. It will be difficult and there will be loss, but in the end, the light shall always prevail. Ensure you don’t forget that, even in the darkest of moments.” As expected, she hung off his every word. His conviction bathed her mind in a wave of calm and helped quell her spiralling nerves until they became nothing more than whispers.

“I’ll try my best to remember that,” Issa replied with a smile which finally reached her dark eyes. Plo Koon nodded, a fond look overcoming his face as she put on a determined front. Compared to other humanoid species, Kel Dors lacked the usual facial tics hinting towards what emotions they were feeling. It’d taken years of spending time with her Master, but Issa now prided herself on being able to read the minute changes in his expression behind his mask.

With a slight jolt, the transport finally came to a halt. They could already hear the hustle and bustle of the ship yard: identical voices barking orders, people dashing about, drills and hydraulics hard at work. It was time. Issa pushed the goggles on her face higher up her nose out of habit and a need to do something with her hands. Her nerves settled into the pit of her stomach once more.

“Ready, Commander?” Plo asked, his equivalent of a slight smirk evident behind his mask.

The Pantoran smiled back at him, a twinkle in her eyes. “About as ready as I’ll ever be, General”.

As they exited the shuttle, they were immediately hit with the notorious Coruscant smog. The humid and stifling air was made worse by the fumes being pumped out from the lower levels, so thick you could practically chew it. Coruscant had been Issa’s home for practically her whole life and she adored it, but the tangible atmosphere was one thing she always wished could be changed.

“Master Plo, Padawan Straun it’s good to see you both,” a voice sounded from behind them. They turned, coming face to face with Master Shaak Ti, looking as poised and elegant as ever as she made her way towards them. Her hands were clasped under the long sleeves of her cloak as she strode forwards. “Are you ready to meet your men? I must say, from my brief interactions with them so far, I believe the 104th are some of the finest soldiers the GAR have to offer. You’ve been dealt a good hand.”

“We’re pleased to hear that,” Plo replied as the pair fell in step with the Togruta. The two Masters chatted while Issa took in her surroundings with unreserved awe. The shipyard was an explosion of noise; there was always something being hammered or drilled. Amongst the racket, the smell of oil and fuel hung thick in the air, making her smile. The scent reminded her of fond times with her Master in the Temple’s shuttle bay as he taught her the ins and outs of spacecraft maintenance on his ship ‘The Blade of Dorin’. The name always did make her chuckle.

Her warm thoughts were interrupted when Master Ti asked her a question, shocking her back to the present. “Issa, how are you keeping? Are you looking forward to your new assignment?”

“I’m well Master, thank you. As for the war, I’m… ” Issa pondered what phrase would effectively communicate her current emotions, “athirst… for what may come. Wars like what we are gearing up for are things I've only read about in legend. But I am content in our decision to protect and fight for the Republic.”

“I understand your apprehension. The weight of war is a heavy one.” Issa nodded at the wise woman’s words and the trio fell into a comfortable silence for a moment. That was until Issa felt the mood shift around them in the Force, a wave of mischief passing over her from the Togruta to her left. “To prepare you for what’s to come, if you would ever like to hear a first person account from the wars of the Old Republic, I'm sure your Master would be happy to oblige.” Issa couldn’t stop herself before a bark of laughter escaped her at Shaak Ti’s deadpan jab at her Master’s age, the woman’s face remained serious until her eyes met Plo’s mask and a small smirk graced her lips.

“I see your sense of humour is as sharp as ever, Master Ti.” Plo replied with a chuckle, before grumbling under his breath. “You’ve been spending far too much time with Kit.” As their humour subsided, the Togruta continued to lead them to their meeting point.

—----------

A small transport ship lowered to reach the three of them, a gust of wind from the descent making their Jedi robes dance behind them. The bland shuttle landed with a muted clang before the doors whooshed open to reveal a Kaminoan and clone trooper.

The Kaminoan moved in almost slow motion, a strange sort of grace in the way her long limbs glided, carrying her off the transport with the clone in tow. “Welcome Jedi Master Plo Koon and Padawan Issa Straun. I am Taun We, aide to our prime minister Lama Su, and overseer of the Jedi’s cloning contract. We will be leaving the 104th battalion in your capable hands.” Taun We then moved to guide the clone forward to greet the Jedi personally. “This is CC-3636. As a Clone Commander, along with having some enhanced features in his DNA, he has undertaken extra training beyond a standard Clone Trooper, including our specialist ARC programme. His record is exemplary, and he will be a fine asset in leading your battalion.”

The soldier who stood before them wasn’t in the standard white plastoid Issa had witnessed on Geonosis. Instead he had maroon paint adorning his armour and the pattern of a wolf covered the sharp edges of his helmet. Someone's an animal fan. The patterns and colour continued down the rest of his armour, and it was all finished off with a black kama, the edges piped in a matching red-brown shade.

The commander removed his helmet before speaking, allowing the Jedi the chance to see him for the first time. Issa took the opportunity to study the man before her. Visually, he seemed to look like almost all the clone troopers she’d come across before, with his identical features and what seemed to be a regulation haircut. His presence however held something unique. His face was very no nonsense. Despite barely being a decade old, it seemed he’d furrowed his brows to the point where even if he relaxed them, two lines would forever be present between his eyes. The man’s frame was also slightly broader than the average clone, making his military stance all the more imposing.

“General Plo, Commander Straun.” The clone nodded at them each in turn as a greeting. Issa was impressed by his greeting. He’d noted how Kel Dors were to be addressed by their first name. He brushed up on his homework.

It would seem given his rank, Issa and the clone commander would be working quite closely together. The thought made Issa’s stomach do another nervous flip. CC-3636 radiated this serious and gruff attitude which contradicted everything about Issa’s own positive and excitable nature; she prayed to the Maker that they didn’t clash too badly.

“General Ti, it’s good to see you again,” the clone offered politely, pulling Issa out of her thoughts.

“Likewise Commander. I like the new look. I take it the ARC’s rubbed off on you and your brothers after all.” The Togruta smiled warmly at him, and CC-3636 changed slightly before Issa’s eyes. The coarseness surrounding him softened ever so slightly at his familiarity with Shaak Ti. With a tiny smirk of knowing, he nodded an affirmative at the woman before she continued. “I was just filling Master Plo and Issa in on how fortunate they are in being assigned your battalion.”

“That’s very kind of you, sir.”

The pleasantries were interrupted by Taun We. “Master Ti, as much as I regret bringing this introduction to an end, we must continue on if we are to introduce the next battalion to the arriving Jedi.” She announced before turning to stride back towards the transport she’d only just exited from.

“Yes of course.” The Togruta turned to face the remaining people on the platform to bid them a farewell. “Master Plo, Issa, Commander, I wish you all the best. May the Force be with you.”

—

The Venator Class Star Destroyers were incredible, their size dwarfed the countless gunships housed in it’s bays, as well as casting a large portion of the humongous landing deck they were on into shadow.

The group strode up the large ramp, the commander in front as he led them onto their vessel. The sight which awaited them was something Issa probably couldn’t have prepared for. A sea of white armour which seemed to go on for miles stretched out before them as they approached. The troopers’ shiny plastoid was a stark contrast to the metallic walls that surrounded them.

The commander moved from their side and towards the ocean of soldiers. “ATTENTION!” At his order, every single one of the troopers stomped their feet together and raised a hand to their helmet in salute. The noise was thunderous, practically shaking the durasteel they stood on. CC-3636 turned back to face them, his chest puffed out with pride. “General, Commander, the 104th welcomes you to the Triumphant.” Issa tried to keep her cool, but she couldn’t help it as she gawked at the sheer number of soldiers before her. There were easily hundreds of them, all neatly stood in rows upon rows, making perfect rectangles. These were the men that would blindly follow her into battle, who would follow her orders and trust her without question. She couldn’t help it as a shiver ran up her spine at the thought of such responsibility.

With a raised hand, Master Plo stepped forward to address their men. “At ease.” His baritone resonated across the platform, the acoustics of the space replacing the need for a microphone. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all. I am General Plo Koon and this is my Padawan and Commander, Issa Straun.” He paused for a moment, allowing Issa to provide a small nod in way of greeting to the troops. In unison, the clones shouted a chorus of “SIRS!” and moved their hands back to their sides.

And so the fun begins, Issa thought.

—

With all the soldiers and gear loaded, Issa and Plo were led on a tour of the ship by CC-3636. He walked with perfect posture in front of them both, pointing out key areas of their new home as they passed them.

The trio finally reached the bridge. As soon as they set foot into the room, all the personnel milling about immediately shot out of their seats and into salute. “General and commanders on deck!”

“At ease,” the Clone Commander announced. Around them, the clones quietly continued on with their previous tasks as if nothing happened. This is going to take some getting used to.

One of the men on deck walked up to the trio, clad in his grey Republic naval uniform. “General Plo, Commander Straun,” the new clone greeted them politely, a slight starstruck look in his eyes. He spent a second too long looking at the two Jedi before CC-3636 cleared his throat with an unimpressed look, shocking the poor trooper back into a military stance. “Uh, sorry Commander Wolffe, I’m just here to report that all the cargo has been loaded and stored as requested.” At the mention of his apparent name, the commander’s eyes widened a tiny bit. Issa dared say he looked uncomfortable, which caused her brow to furrow. Why wouldn’t he want us to hear his name?

“Very good, trooper. Report back to your station.”

After the shiny clone disappeared, Master Plo spoke up, a slight tint of concern around his eyes at what was a clear oversight on both the Jedi’s parts. “Our sincerest apologies Commander, we weren’t aware some of you had chosen names for yourselves. How would you prefer that we address you? We’d be happy to use names over your designations should you request so.” Plo offered with a kind look.

CC-36- no Wolffe, on the other hand, looked unsure as his gaze flitted between the two Jedi. “Ah, that’s really up to you, General.”

Issa stepped forward and smiled at the gruff soldier. “Well Commander, we’d like to know what you’d prefer, honestly.”

The man studied the two for a moment longer before sighing. “My name would be good, sir. It’s more efficient to use in battle than our designations I suppose.”

“Then it’s settled,” Plo declared with a slight clap of his hands. “If possible, could you please find someone to gather a list of each clone’s name and designation so that we are better able to address the men?”

Wolffe looked slightly taken aback at his request. He quickly tried to school his features back into neutrality but Issa noticed the tiny upturn on one side of his mouth. “Of course, sir.” The clone turned on his heel to pass on the request to the relevant person, leaving the Kel Dor and Pantoran standing at the heart of their new bridge. Master Plo gave her a proud look and she smiled back at him, chuffed that they’d started off on the right foot with their commander.

----

It had been a rather long and surreal morning getting settled on the Triumphant. After Wolffe concluded the tour of the ship, the three of them had begun on their more senior responsibilities, which involved being holed up in a meeting room with Plo and Wolffe for hours on end, and while she loved her Master, this entire military thing had gone from zero to a hundred very quickly, and the young Jedi could really do with catching her breath for a few moments. Thankfully, her stomach rumbled at an opportune time, causing Plo to dismiss them both to get themselves fed before they continued their planning session.

Wolffe offered to show her to the mess hall but she politely excused herself so that she could pass by the refresher first, needing a moment to herself.

Once the durasteel door hissed shut behind her, she leaned over the sink and met her own gaze in the mirror. Issa’s navy and burgundy robes were askew on her shoulders, making her frown. The traditional clothing for Jedi had its place for many reasons, but oh how she missed her own clothes. The robes were heavy and loose, sitting draped over her thin frame, nearly drowning her figure. Guess we’re not known for being style icons, but still. She always felt like a youngling in her robes, almost as if she’d never grow into them despite being fully grown for a Pantoran, and above average height at that. Her delicate hands pulled at the neckline and readjusted her belt until she was happy that everything was back in place where it should be. The long, double-ended hilt of her lightsaber caught the light as she fidgeted, making her pause. She smoothed a hand over the engraved metal, attempting to draw some emotional strength from her weapon as the kyber crystal buzzed slightly beneath her fingertips.

Now somewhat pleased with her outfit, Issa began to give the rest of herself a quick once over. Her silver hair was scruffy from where she’d been running her hand through it. That, on top of the baggy robes, was not quite the look of professional Commander she was going for. Sighing, she lifted her goggles off her head and placed them on the side so that she could undo the bun atop her head. A groan of relief escaped her as the icy strands fell from their tight style. After messing about with it, she threw half her hair back up and left half down, her Padawan braid extending beyond her shoulder length cut. Finally content with her hair, she moved to rub at the indigo indents around her eyes. Despite not being able to see her own reflection without her eyewear, she knew from years of wearing goggles that the marks were present. As she relaxed her face, her mind began to wander back to the new weight that sat on her shoulders. Commander of a battalion. Issa was curious to know if she’d ever get used to the thought of such responsibility.

Before she could get herself worked up again, she turned on the tap and splashed some cold water on her face, jarring her back into the present moment. She dried her features and pulled her goggles back on, feeling like her whole self once again as the world around her came back into focus. Issa met her own gaze in the mirror once more. “Stop stressing, Straun. You’ve got this,” she instructed her reflection with a new determination. She could do this. She just needed to go out there and be the Commander that she wanted to be. The rest would fall into place she was sure. With a quick nod to herself, Issa mustered up all the confidence she could and exited the refresher, ready to continue on her personal mission.

——

Loud chatter bounced back and forth within the mess hall walls, all the identical voices combining into an almost white noise as Issa selected her lunch from the datapad in front of her.

The Jedi grabbed her tray and studied the room around her. She was greeted with a sea of white armour and grey naval uniforms. Her heart rate picked up as nerves began to roll through her mind. She was very much the odd one out here.

Closing her dark eyes, she took a deep and steadying breath. I came in here to get to know the battalion better, so that’s exactly what I’ll do. Issa rolled her shoulders back and began to hunt for a free seat with determination.

After a bit of wandering and feeling a few stares on her back, she finally clocked an empty space.

She plonked herself down with a shy smile and a hello to the troopers around her. All the men at the table had stopped eating and instead taken to staring at her like she’d grown two heads. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Despite her confidence in herself as a Jedi, Issa couldn’t help but feel incredibly awkward under the gaze of all these soldiers. She went to push her goggles up the bridge of her nose before scratching the back of her neck. “Sorry, I can go,” she muttered as she went to grab her tray and stand up again, embarrassment tinting her cheeks a pale lilac.

A quick chorus of “no no no,” rang out, and she paused half raised off her seat. A trooper with silver hair cleared his throat. “Sorry, Commander. Please sit down.” He looked at his brothers who’d taken to playing with the food on their trays. “We just weren’t expecting you to sit with us is all. But we definitely don’t mind.” His tone was sincere and he flashed a toothy smile which eased Issa’s worries. As her embarrassment faded, she sat herself back down next to the men. “So what brings you to the mess hall, sir? Other than the obvious.”

“I wanted to meet the people I’d be fighting alongside,” she said simply, tucking into her serving of pale soup. The steam from her meal caught on her goggles and fogged them up ever so slightly.

One of the others spoke up, a trooper that looked the most unique out of them all. His hair was shaved except for two stripes which ran down the centre of his head. The left side of his face from his jaw upwards was decorated in silvery scar lines, creating a delicate and intricate pattern across his skin. “But you’re a Jedi, sir. You know you don’t have to sit with a bunch of clones right?”

“Does Commander Wolffe sit with you?” At her question, the men turned to look at the clone sat at the end who she now recognised. “Ah, sorry Wolffe. Didn’t see you there.” He waved her off as he continued shovelling food into his mouth and reading his datapad. “Anyway, my point is while we may look different, we’re one battalion. I’m nothing special. I eat, sleep and breathe the same as you. I thought this might be as good a place as any to get started in getting to know one another.”

“That’s uh, nice of you sir,” the silver haired clone replied.

“You can all call me Issa while we’re having downtime if you like. I'm not quite used to the formalities just yet.” They all turned again to look at Wolffe, almost asking his permission. He shrugged as if to say they can do what they want and a few troopers at the table smiled. “Well since we’ll be using names, would you gentlemen mind telling me yours?” Issa asked.

“I’m Sinker,” the man with the silver hair stated. “That one with the dodgy hair is Boost, self proclaimed comedic genius and all round di’kut.”

“You love me really,” Boost tutted back.

“Huh, maybe you are funny actually.” Boost pouted at Sinker’s sarcasm, making Issa chuckle. Sinker next pointed to the clone whose head was buried in a datapad. The distracted man seemed to be of a slighter frame compared to the men around him. He also sported copper hair shaved short on the sides, the curls from his fringe falling into his eyes as he looked up at her. “The nerd there is Book. Kid is obsessed with learning new stuff, but he’s killer at strategising.”

The next clone had longer and messier hair which fell into soft waves framing his face and he gave her a friendly smile as Sinker continued. “This is Cloud. Not got much awareness of what’s going on around him most of the time, but he’s one of the best snipers and slicers in the GAR.” Finally he turned his gaze towards the last clone at the table. His hair was shaved off and an intricate tattoo of a Vexis sat atop his head, giving the clone a rather imposing aura. “Oh and the short one down the end opposite Wolffe is Two-Pint. In love with heavy class weapons and despite the name, can drink the entire battalion under the table.”

“It’s nice to meet you all. You clones really do have some wonderfully unique names,” Issa acknowledged.

Boost piped up with a smirk. “Well when you’ve got a million other people to compete with, you end up scrambling for options.” They continued to tuck into their food as they chatted, any awkward tension that remained from when Issa first sat down quickly dispersing, which warmed her insides far more than the soup ever could.

“Sir- I mean Issa-” Book paused, and the Jedi nodded approvingly, urging him to continue. “You’re Pantoran, correct?”

“I am.”

“I understand that Pantorans tattoo their faces with gold markings to communicate things such as family relations, wealth, social status etcetera. Might I ask what yours mean?”

“Isn’t that a little personal to ask someone, Book?” Two-Pint scolded around a mouthful of bread, sendings small crumbs flying towards Wolffe who somehow managed to frown harder at the heavy gunner.

“No it’s fine, I can understand his curiosity.” Issa smiled at the excitable clone who beamed back at her. “You’re right, Pantorans do mark their faces for those reasons, but given that I don’t really know my biological family and I don’t have many personal belongings, my markings are ones which show me being part of the Jedi Order. I’m not the first Pantoran, so my predecessors came up with a variety of meanings and designs for Pantoran Jedi to choose from. We go through a few milestones in our lives as Pantorans which grant us the honour of getting markings. Culturally, Pantoran Jedi are supposed to undertake their trials before the age of 25, within the next two years I should have most of my markings. As for the ones I have now,” she traced the two straight golden lines running vertically from her hairline to the start of her silver eyebrows, “these two represent life and the Force.” Her fingers then moved to the single line running from her bottom lip straight down her chin. “And this one symbolises the two coming together. For even in death, there is always the Force.”

Book looked enthralled as he typed away at his datapad, abandoning his lunch in favour of documenting Issa’s every word. “That’s fascinating, thank you.”

“No problem.” Issa nodded at him and a warmth spread through her chest as she watched Book’s fingers fly across his device. She wasn’t entirely sure what she expected when going to meet the clones, but something about Book’s excitement for life and information surprised her. “While we’re on the topic of physical features, can I ask you a question, Boost?” Issa looked over at the man, who nodded as he shovelled more food into his mouth. “Your hair is pretty different compared to everyone else’s. I was wondering if there was a particular reason behind it.” She saw his cheeky demeanour immediately change at her question, shifting to one of longing and remembrance.

“I, uh…” He cleared his throat and Issa cursed herself for asking him to relive a clearly painful memory. “The style’s called ��the double stripe’. It’s to honour my batchmates, the squad I went through cadet training with. They all died on Geonosis.” His face was sombre as he remembered each of his closest brothers. Beside him, Sinker placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, which the other man leaned into gratefully.

“I’m so sorry, Boost.”

“Ah, don’t be. They went out like heroes, which is all any of us can really ask.” He gave her a sad smile before clapping his hands together and rebuilding his mischievous persona. “Anyways, enough doom and gloom. Let’s find out more about you, Commander. What’s with the goggles?”

Issa chuckled as Boost formed two circles with his fingers and put them around his eyes to mimic her eyewear. “Nothing fancy, I just can’t see very well.” She shrugged and the men all looked at each other.

“So you’re telling us that the almighty powerful Jedi we’ve been hearing about for ten years, can have crap eyesight?”

“I’m only Pantoran, I’m not a god.”

“You’re really ruining this for us sir. I hope you know that,” Sinker explained with a sigh.

“Well I can still fight blind don’t worry. Though if Master Plo loses that mask, he can’t breathe. I’ve always carried a spare around with me just in case.” Issa rolled her eyes with fondness, while the clones just stared blankly at her as she joked.

Wolffe looked dumbfounded as he spoke up for the first time. “So between the two of you, we haven’t got one fully functioning Jedi?” Issa quickly felt the weight of the table’s gaze which made her squirm with awkwardness. Just had to stick my foot in it, didn’t I?

“I suppose not. But I’ve never seen Plo lose his mask, and I always carry spare goggles on missions, so you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“No offence, sir, but that doesn’t fill me with much confidence.” Without another word, Commander Wolffe grabbed his tray with an unimpressed look and left the group, his sass having cut Issa, leaving her mouth hanging slightly agape as he exited the mess.

———

Wolffe entered his new quarters as the day drew to a close. His boots clanged against the durasteel flooring as he dropped down onto his firm bunk. His room was small, more akin to a closet, but it was neat and it was private, and privacy was something he never expected to have in his life. It was a blessing and a curse to have some space to himself. On the one hand he much preferred his own time and quiet, never one for much socialising, but he’d be lying to himself if he said he wouldn’t miss the small sounds of his brothers just living around him: the snores, the laughter and the chatter. It was all he’d known for his entire life. It’ll take some getting used to.

The soldier took a moment to reflect on what would be the first day of the rest of his life. He’d finally been assigned his Jedi, and should he do his job right, they’d be the people he’d spend the war fighting alongside. General Plo Koon was one of the few Jedi he remembered from Geonosis, he didn’t fight alongside him directly, but a six foot Kel Dor on a battlefield stood out amongst the more common species within the Jedi Order. The general was mostly what he expected of a Jedi; reserved, wise and welcoming. He couldn’t put his finger on it but there was just something about the Kel Dor that put him at ease, as if a sense of knowing told him that his general would be someone he’d proudly fight alongside. Then there was the padawan, Straun. He found it interesting that while the young woman had been under the mentorship of the general for what must be years now, they were remarkably different people. She was clearly inexperienced, and cared far too much about what the men thought of her as a leader. She was quick to talk, which was a trait he didn’t favour in others usually, but she seemed to be trying at least. Wolffe supposed that her efforts were better than a removed leader who didn’t value the lives of his brothers. As commanders though, the two of them were very different, and it unnerved him that he wouldn’t really know her abilities as a leader until they were thrown into battle.

As he let out a long exhale, Wolffe’s gloved fingers unclipped his helmet from his belt and held it in his lap, the black visor staring back at him as he took in every sharp edge and line of paint across his bucket. The commander took a moment to think back on the battle of Geonosis. Those few months ago, he’d worn white plastoid armour, with only pips and yellow paint to signify his rank. Following the start of the war, the Alphas back on Kamino had taken Wolffe’s batch in and commended them on their efforts on the desert planet, for leading their brothers to their purpose to fight alongside the Jedi and defending the Republic. They’d taken them on for the new ARC training programme as an experiment and pushed them to their limits with a gruelling training regiment. There were points where Wolffe wondered if they’d make it, but in the end, all five of them survived and became the first ARC Commanders. A small smile made its way onto Wolffe’s face at the memory.

The five commanders stood in parade rest, Alpha-17 strolling in front of them, appraising his graduating students. Wolffe supposed they did look different from where they started. While the new training routine had brought out different strengths in all of them, they’d all gained more muscle mass and no longer looked as lean as the standard troopers.

“I’m pleased to announce you’ve all passed ARC training. You five are our first of many ARC Commanders. Congratulations.” 17’s face remained neutral, but underneath all the bravado, they all noticed the pride, burning like a roaring flame within him.

Wolffe held his own passive military expression, but chanced a glance at Fox next to him just as his ori’vod did the same to him. Their eyes met and the corners of their lips twitched ever so slightly. “We’ve actually done it.” the words were barely above a whisper as they fell from his lips.

The commander was brought out of his memories when his datapad began chiming next to him, the screen lighting up and pulling his attention to it.

-Command Chat Active-

Cody: so… everyone met their Jedi then?

Bly: yep

Wolffe: mhmm

Ponds: yeah!

Fox: funnily enough no I haven’t.

Cody: sarcasm just because you’re jealous Fox? It’s not a good look on you

Fox: mir’sheb

Cody: Love you too, foxy. Anyway, thoughts?

Ponds: Master Windu is awesome.

Cody: Bly, Wolffe?

Bly: … The General seems nice enough

Fox: But?

Bly: But what?

Ponds: you’re being suspenseful again Bly, just spit it out vod

Bly: Okay. But this goes nowhere as I’m trying to be a good Commander and all

Bly: but… WHY DOES MY GENERAL REFUSE TO WEAR ARMOUR. I’M GONNA GET RECONDITIONED WHEN SHE INEVITABLY GETS SHOT :’(

Fox: Well, seems this Jedi business isn’t all it’s cracked up to be

Wolffe: You want to talk about armour?! How about both my Jedi having major physical impairments?! One can’t breathe in most atmospheres and the other can’t kriffing see! They’re walking target practice for the clankers.

Cody: at least you haven’t got to deal with the Padawan from hell

Bly: don’t act like you’ll actually deal with him. We all know you’re gonna put that on Rex.

Cody: it’s called delegating, it’s what good commanders do ori’vod

Cody: at least General Kenobi seems sane enough.

Wolffe: I dunno, didn’t he teach the special one? His recklessness has to stem from someone

Ponds: *the chosen one

Wolffe: dork

Cody: … you make an excellent point

Fox: about the general or Ponds?

Cody: both

Ponds: :(

Cody: General Kenobi is going to turn out crazy isn’t he?

Ponds: they’re not called the disaster lineage for nothing

Cody: THEY’RE CALLED THE WHAT?!

Ponds: hmm maybe I shouldn’t have shared that

Bly: *gasp* Is General Windu a gossip?!

Ponds: I can neither confirm nor deny

Fox: Ponds got the best General. The rest of you are probably going to die. It was nice knowing you.

Cody: I’d tell him to Kriff off but he’s probably right

Wolffe: eh I’ll do it anyway. Kriff off shabuir

Fox: bite me ad’ika <3

—-Fox renamed the chat to CC’s Anonymous—-

Ponds: Seems appropriate

Back to TJ's Masterlist

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erimeows · 3 years ago

Note

NSFW headcanons for Optimus/Bumblebee? 👀👀👀

Oh, man, you got me in the weak spot. I really love BumbleOp because it's the first ship I ever read a fic for in this fandom; it was 40+ chapters and very soft, I consumed it all in four or five hours. Anywho, NSFW below the cut. Enjoy!

I explored this in my oneshot Telling, but Optimus Prime has a HUGE praise kink. Always wants to be told how pretty/handsome he is, how good he’s doing, what he’s doing that’s nice, how good he feels, etc. It’s not only very validating, but it’s nice to know that he can make his lover so desperate that he just loses his pride and says all of those things; the sweet, the filthy, and the tender.

Bumblebee feeds into it. He’ll tell Optimus whatever he wants to hear if it means Optimus feels good, which means Optimus will make him feel good in return. Just like Optimus, he likes hearing the praise in return.

Bumblebee’s favorite parts of Optimus are his audials, shoulders, and thighs.

Optimus’s favorite parts of Bumblebee are his servos, chest, and optics.

Despite being mostly vanilla, they also have a slight brat/tamer dynamic going on. Bumblebee likes to act up, tease, and talk big game to Optimus because he knows it’ll get him ‘punished’ (AKA serviced really good) and roughed up since Optimus won’t be rough with him unless he really does something to push his buttons.

Optimus likes it too, though, because he enjoys the control and the submission he gets from it, the power that comes with being to hold Bumblebee down and punish him for being a tease, whether that be touching him under the table at a public function or running a servo over his aft while walking past him in the hallway.

Their relationship is secret mostly, at least for a while. Not a FWB thing by any stretch since they’re both very in love with each other and want to have a committed relationship before interfacing, but it’s just easier to keep things a secret from their team to avoid making it complicated. The secrecy adds onto the thrill; sneaking into each other’s rooms, trying to keep the moans down, putting a pillow between the back of the berth and the wall to avoid the headboard slamming into it from the force of Optimus’s thrusts, stealing kisses in hallways and hoping that no one else is around.

There’s a surprising amount of dirty talk that’s like “What if someone walked in right now? You’d like that, though, wouldn’t you? You’re filthy, sweetspark,” and “Be careful; I don’t mind you getting loud, but as much as I love the noise, I don’t think you want everyone on base to know how good I’m fragging you,”.

Usually, Optimus prefers to be on top so he can control the entire situation, but sometimes, he’ll let Bumblebee ride. It’s nice to just be able to sit there and be pleasured, watch Bumblebee’s face twist with pleasure as he rides his spike and grips onto his shoulders for dear life.

They’re both incredibly tender, gentle lovers at heart, so they always worry about hurting or bothering the other and are usually pretty careful, even when they do get rough sometimes.

Bumblebee loves sucking Optimus’s spike, and Optimus loves eating Bumblebee out. They’re both super into giving and receiving oral.

Body worship all the way for both of these bots, too.

Bumblebee really enjoys being manhandled and thrown around, picked up and maneuvered by Optimus in the bedroom. It makes him feel smaller, weaker, like he’s there to be controlled and used, something he’s into.

Neither of them call it by name directly, but they both totally have a breeding kink... Especially Optimus. He usually doesn’t do it out of courtesy, but his favorite sessions of interfacing are when Bumblebee will lock his legs around his waist and trap him there, begging for him to overload inside and fill him with his transfluid. Optimus falls into it without any thought and will immediately start fucking Bumblebee so hard that the berth has probably broken at one point, making him overload a couple of more times before stuffing him full with his seed.

Anywho, yeah... There’s those! I’m going to go drink some holy water. Peace out, y’all.

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mollygetssherlockcoffee · 4 years ago

Text

Sunflower

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: When Y/N joins the team, Bucky isn’t fond of her but as time goes on, she begin to form bond with the team and with him.

Warning: Swearing, torture, violence, death

Words: 20,971

A/N: All translations were made using Google, so sorry if they are wrong! This is also my first Marvel fic, and my first Bucky fic, so all feedback is welcome!

Master List Tag List

May

You’re nervous. Your palms sweat, even with the air conditioner pumping through the compound, and your heartbeat is elevated. You know that your presence is allowed but you don’t know whether they will accept you. After all, you were part of one of the most atrocious organisations that had ever existed.

Hydra was wicked, cruel, sadistic, merciless and they were your past.

When approached and asked to be part of a drug trial, you had accepted. You were young, barely eighteen, and living on the streets of Krasnoyarsk. You had struggled to care for yourself, the orphanage having kicked you out a few months previous, and you had jumped at the chance of having a place to stay and food in your belly.

It wasn’t until you were taken in, subjected rigorous testing, that you found out where you are. The company name they had originally given you was fabricated, and your insides turned to ice as you saw the Hydra symbol.

You were, in a sense, tricked.

You were trapped there, no way out and you knew you wouldn’t leave alive. You had, in a way, signed your own death warrant. You had been foolish, your mind to focused on food and a bed to properly ask about the company who wanted you. Saying that, they probably would have killed you if you had asked to many questions anyway.

For three years, you were put through your paces. They taught you languages; English, German, Spanish, French, Romanian, Italian and others. You had to learn quick, and you were given daily tests. If you got a question wrong, a fist hit your stomach. If you completed the test with more than two wrong answers, you were sent to the Palach [Punisher]. His methods of…correcting…you varied. Beatings, cuttings, breakings, whippings…

They also taught you how to fight. They didn’t go easy on you, in fact, it was the exact opposite. The trainer used his full force, you couldn’t tap out. You adapted, or you got hurt. He’d almost killed you once, just to show you how easy it was.

It had taken you over two years, but you had developed your own style of fighting by studying his. While he was brutish, using his pure strength, you used your small structure. Your moves could be likened to those of a snake, you would slip around him, strike in the most unexpected of places and take him down that way. You fought like it was a dance, gracefully and beautifully.

You also learned how to use a variety of weapons. You could shoot a range of guns now, could strip and clean them too. You were confident with knives, easily able to add them to a fight and harm your opponent. They’d even taught you how to use a bow and arrow, and a crossbow, though they weren’t a first choice of Hydra.

In your three years, you learned more than you thought you were would. Did you want to learn all of this? No, of course not. You had no choice. With was either adept and learn or be killed. You didn’t want to die.

Your final ‘test’, as they called it, was to take another person’s life. A young man, barely of age, with dark brown hair and green eyes. His eyes were rimmed red, tears trailing over his high cheekbones and dripping over the cloth stuffed in his mouth and off his chiselled jaw. You didn’t know his name, but his face would never leave you.

You had hesitated a moment. You weren’t a killer, not by choice at least. You didn’t want to kill the young man, murder was not in your blood. However, you knew that it had been leading up to this moment. Why else would they be keeping you, training you?

It was kill or be killed. So, you shot him.

From there, the training was over. Then, the ‘drug trial’ began. For the first time in five years, you were given meals three times a day, for a week straight. They were building up your strength for what was to come. What were they going to do, that you would need to be so prepared for?

You were reading a Mandarin language-learning book when they came in. You could converse in the language well enough, but it wasn’t your best. And you had to give your best. Four soldiers and three people in lab coats. The soldiers carried guns and had knives strapped to them, you knew they wouldn’t hesitate to shoot you if you tried to fight and run. You had seen that happen to another ‘subject’.

You had been taken to lab where they usually tested you. When you entered, the three scientists joined their other eight colleagues. Your normal tests had only been conducted by three scientists, one preparing the tests and equipment, one doing the actual testing, and the final one recording the results. Seeing so many scientists, you knew this was it, that this was ‘the big day’, so to speak.

You were strapped down, thick leather tightened around your body to hold you to the metal table. Your left arm was outstretched, your inner elbow exposed.

Everyday you had been kept at Hydra, you had been scared. But at that moment, on that cold metal table, your fear was heightened. You didn’t know why. They had taught you how to kill, how to lie, how to steal, hack, seduce even… but they left you with fear. They wanted you to fear them, it would ensure your loyalty.

Electrodes were attached to your forehead, the metal discs roughly pressed against your temple. A heart rate monitor was clipped to your finger and a blood pressure cuff was put around your right arm.

You could hear the machine showing your heartrate increased as a scientist moved towards your left arm. In his hand, he held a large syringe. A think, green liquid swirled in it. It was vile looking, it was something you would expect to see in a swamp. He took your arm in one hand, bracing himself before pushing the needle through the skin of your inner elbow.

As soon as the green mixture had entered your body, you had been set alight. You’d cried, screamed, begged for them to make it stop. Since joining Hydra, you had went through pain but this was unlike anything you had ever felt. Your whole body was on fire, flames burning you up from the inside.

It hadn’t taken long for your eyes to roll and for you to pass out in pain.

You had woken up three days later. You didn’t know what they had injected you with but it didn’t taken long for you to discover the results of it. When you got angry after being tied down, the ground had shaken. The stone floor had cracked and began to crumble. When you were scared when the guards entered, vines had extended from the walls to enclose you. When your hand had sat on the wooden table, a flower sprouted, its thorns wickedly sharp.

You had could create and control the earth and plant-life.

It was a terrifying discovery. You had walked into Hydra as a weak orphan, yet now you were a trained killer. You had walked into that lab a human, and now… now you were something else. You couldn’t be called a mutant; you were born like this. You were created. You were an experiment. A test subject.

For two more years, you were subjected to more testing and more training. Hydra pushed you to the limits of your ability, seeing what you were capable of and forcing you to improve. You gained more control over time, soon able to completely control the earth around you with little effort. You also had to ‘update’ your technique with your new abilities. You learned how to weave your gift into your fighting style, making you all the more dangerous.

Though you were skilled, you knew that someone would still be able to take you down.

You had heard about him. The Soldat. You had heard the scientists whisper his name, but it was the guards outside your room which provided the information.

“Soldat escaped” the first guard murmured quietly.

“Do you think they’ll send her after him?” the second questioned, just as quiet. You knew he was referring to you.

“Probably” the first confirmed. “They’d send her to the chair first. Still, with his metal arm he would beat her. It will be a waste.”

You didn’t know what the chair was, but you knew it was bad. Thankfully, you never got to meet it.

Less then a year later, the base you were kept at was stormed by the Avengers. You had seized the moment. While the guards had rushed to fight them off, you had broken the door of your room. A thick, green vine had curled around the large handle and ripped it from its hinges.

You had run from the metal room, which they had put you in after discovering your abilities, and you hadn’t looked back. You had lifted a hand in front of you, causing a stone wall to break and you had climbed through, running into the forest.

You escaped and went on the run. You were sure that those who had kept you at the base had either been captured or killed by the Avengers. Being in prison, or in a grave, they wouldn’t be able to come after you.

You hadn’t counted on the Avengers not coming after you, though. You hadn’t thought of it previously but of course Hydra had files on you. When they had seized control of the base, the Avengers gained access to those files. They found out about who you were, what you could do. You were dangerous.

It had put on the run from both sides. Other sources of Hydra might still know of you and want you, but now, the Avengers wanted you too.

While on the run, you had heard more about The Soldat. While they called him that often, his code name was The Winter Soldier. He was a man out of time, taken by Hydra, turned into a weapon and frozen. He was a victim of the organisation, just like you. They had turned him into a super-soldier and given him a metal arm, strong enough to crush people’s skulls. No doubt strong enough to destroy you. Even with your abilities, he was stronger and more experienced than you.

You knew they were after him, just like how they were after you.

Then, it happened. Khvatka. Der Schnappschuss. The Snap.

One minute, you were fine. The next, your hand had tingled. As you looked down, it began to turn to dust. You had been shocked, but that soon turned to horror as your arm turned to dust and surely… so did the rest of you.

It seemed like only a moment later, you were opening your eyes again. Everything around you looked different, there were buildings surrounding you which hadn’t been there before. You knew you were in the same place though, the earth beneath your feel felt the same.

You hadn’t understood what happened at first but then you had stolen the newspaper and heard people talking. Then, you understood. Half of all life, sentient and non-sentient, had been erased from the universe. And you were part of that half. You had been erased.

You didn’t think it would affect you much. You had nothing before The Snap, you had nothing after. You were wrong. In a few short months following The Snap, the Avengers caught up with you.

The Scarlett Witch, Captain America, Iron Man and The Black Widow.

“I’m not going back to some lab!” you had growled at them, before running.

They had caught you. in fairness, you would have been able to escape, but since leaving Hydra, you had refused to inflict harm. Your actions towards the Avengers were all in defence, and they had noticed that you didn’t not make an offensive move on them. You could have hurt them, killed them even, but instead, you just blocked.

You had been so focused in not hurting them, The Flacon had been able to sneak up behind you and with a sharp prick to your neck, knock you unconscious.

You had been extremely lucky that you only fought defensively. After extensively looking over your file, noticing your singular kill in, arguably, self-defence, you had been invited to join the Avengers. You didn’t know how they had arranged it, after all, you had previous ties to Hydra. However, it was either join them or be held in a secure unit.

It wasn’t a tough choice.

That led you to this moment. Standing outside of the meeting room which held all of the team members. While you knew there was a core group, there were many other notable members which weren’t always included in the specific name.

“You ready?” Steve Rogers, Captain America, asked.

You rolled your lips between your teeth for a moment in nervousness before you nodded. “Yeah, I’m ready.

“Okay, lets do this” he pushes the door open, stepping into the room and holding the door for you to follow.

Most of the team was on edge with you at first, watching you wearily. They knew who you were, where you had spent nearly six years of your life. You didn’t blame them for not trusting you straight away. Their trust was something you were going to have to earn. The only person to fully accept you straight away was the Scarlett Witch, Wanda Maximoff.

She had previously been a test subject of Hydra which had given her gifts, including telepathy. You knew she had looked into your mind straight away and while it was invasive, you understood. By looking into you mind, she would know your thoughts, feelings and intentions. What she saw obviously convinced her you owed no ill will, which was true, and she readily welcomed you.

The rest of the team politely nodded, said hello or gave you an awkward smile. Peter Parker, the youngest of the Avengers, seemed to do all three. Though he was obviously nervous of you, you had been with Hydra, he stilled tried to welcome you enthusiastically. It was sweet of him, you thought, offering the teenager a small smile.

“Funny suit” you commented, head slightly tilted as your eyes looked over the spiderweb pattern.

He looks down at his suit before nodding at you. “Thanks. I’m Spider-Man.”

You hummed in amusement, he was a little too young to be considered a man, but it was cute.

The rest of the team greeted you until you got to the final member.

Standing close to the door, in a position allowing him to have complete view of the room and the entrance was someone you recognised description alone. He was tall, with long, dark hair which made his blue-grey eyes stand out. His mouth was set in a hard line as he watched you, arms folded across his chest. Though he had on a long-sleeved shirt and his hand was hidden by his right arm, you knew his left arm was metal.

This was The Soldat, The Winter Soldier.

You tried not to react. This was the man who could take you down, with absolute certainty. Hydra said he would be able to do it, you had to believe in that fact. Looking at him now, you could see why they came to that conclusion. He was much larger than you.

“This is Bucky” Steve introduced.

“da [yes]” you can’t help but fall into Russian. There was something about him that made your mind fall back to Hydra, where they had only allowed you to converse in Russian. It was probably because that was where you knew him from. His jaw clenched, and his nostrils flared minutely. His head titled up and he looked down his nose at you. Tensing, you quickly spoke again. “Sorry.”

“Dobro pozhalovat’ v komandu [Welcome to the team]” his voice was gruff and low. As soon as the words were out, we passed you, careful not to touch you, and left the room.

Steve apologised for his friend, watching him go without a single glance back. You waved off his apology, assuring him that Bucky wasn’t rude and that you had probably unintentionally made him uncomfortable by speaking Russian.

Later in the evening, you ate dinner with the rest of the Avengers, but you didn’t see Bucky again.

July

You collapsed onto the couch, holding the cold-water bottle against your neck. You had peeled off your suit, which was similar to Natasha’s but was dark green in colour and taken a shower. Though the water had been cool, your body was still hot.

“Move” Wanda ordered.

You sat up slightly, allowing her to sit down before you rested you head in her lap. She moaned as she sunk into the cushions of the couch, and you knew her body ached just as yours did. She adjusted herself again, and then her hand moved to play with your hair.

Since joining the Avengers two months ago, your relationships with the members had improved. You were closest to Wanda, who had quickly become a close friend and confidant. In your first few days at the compound, you had been quiet and just observed the team, not taking part in their talks and jokes. Wanda, however, made sure to speak quietly to you at every meal. She slowly brought you out of your shell and encouraged you to develop your relationships with the other members.

Your relationships with the rest of the team was varied.

As Wanda trusted you, Vision seemed to be open to you. He wasn’t your biggest fan, believe that with your abilities, you posed a strong threat. However, he was respectful. He would often join you and Wanda for film nights and would keep you both supplied with popcorn. He spoke to you politely, but never singled you out for conversation. It strangely hurt your feelings, considering how close you were to Wanda, but you accepted his attitude towards you.

Upon seeing you use your gift, Peter Parker wanted to spend time with you whenever you were both at the compound. He was fascinated by the power of your abilities and the level of control you had. He asked multiple questions, eager to understand how you were able to do what you could. While it had made you uncomfortable at first, you soon began to appreciate his interest. He didn’t want to know these things because he wanted to use you, or because he was scared but because he admired you.

And while you spoke about your abilities often, you also spoke about him. He was struggling with his language class and, being fluent in most languages, you had offered to help. He had also shyly asked you to forge Aunt May’s signature on his language test when he got a bad grade. You had done it, but you had told him he needed to speak to May about it.

Aunt May was accepting of your relationship towards Peter. At first, she had been weary, which you couldn’t blame her for, but then her attitude changed in the few weeks between visits. You think it was Peter’s doing, that he had gone home and spoken about you. Perhaps told her that you helped with his schoolwork, that every weekend you’d give him a bunch of flowers for his girlfriend, MJ. Or maybe about the time you scolded him for his recklessness on a mission and sent him to his room at the compound without dessert.

While Aunt May was his mother figure, you had seemed to have taken on the role of overprotective older sister. A role which May seemed happy for you to have. She had spoken to you just last week about how grateful she was that you were helping Peter and keeping an eye on him while on missions.

Tony Stark had taken somewhat of a liking towards you. He had provided you with your new suit and various weapons, all of which you were grateful for. Just like with the rest of the team, he did tend to tease you. He often called you Ivy after the famous ‘Poison Ivy’ from Batman. It was so common to hear that nickname, it was sometimes used instead of your codename.

You didn’t have a codename when you were with Hydra, they just called you ‘The Subject’, but joining the Avengers had afforded you one. Hemlock. It was a stupid codename and you had immediately hated whoever had assigned it to you. You understood the choosing of it, it was a deadly plant, but still… it was stupid.

Though Tony’s nickname was unoriginal, and it occasionally annoyed you, you much preferred it. Hemlock just seemed presumptuous. It was a deadly planet and having that as your codename, would make you appear to be deadly. You had the potential to be, yes, but you had only ever harm one person and that was out of a need for survival.

Natasha Romanoff usually observed you quietly, as if waiting for you to flip and attack. However, she didn’t go out of her way to make you unwelcome. She included you in conversation and would normally speak in Russian, which was also her native language, but you think that was to annoy Tony. He hated to be excluded.

She was sassy, her jokes hidden within her words. Though you hadn’t grown close with her yet, you could see yourself favouring her in the future. There was an appeal about her, she was mysterious, and it kept people interested, wanting to know more. You were no exception.

You had only seen Clint Barton once or twice, but he was always nice. He also adopted Tony’s nickname, calling you that more often that your own name. He didn’t seem to care for you though, not in a mean way, but in a way which he doesn’t view you as a threat. Which was refreshing.

It was from Tony that you learned Clint lived on a farm with his family, who had previously lost to The Snap. It was nice to know that while being a ‘hero’ didn’t mean you couldn’t have a normal, quiet life.

James Rhodes was another member of the Avengers that you didn’t have much contact with. Though you saw him around the compound, it was only ever in passing. He was often with not alone, with Tony or a military colleague. When he was alone, he carried files in his hands which he read through, ignoring the environment around him.

Sam Wilson welcomed you easily. While he kept you at arm’s length for the first few weeks, that soon gave way to flirtatious teasing. You knew he meant nothing by it, and you enjoyed the comments, no one had ever said such things to you. Though there was no attraction there, between either of you, you both enjoyed the flirtatious attention you afforded the other.

He had taken to calling you Petal, or the shortened Pet, a cute nickname because you were as delicate as a flower and also because of your ability. You acted annoyed when he called you it but secretly, you adored it. It was cute, sweet, and it felt like it fit.

Sam was also the one who you trained with often, though you tried to put him off it. You were trained to kill by Hydra, your skills on par with Natasha and Bucky – though he was much stronger than you. You could make Sam down in minutes, which a few members of the team enjoyed seeing, but you could beat him in seconds on the rare occasion you used your ability.

Still, he insisted. “You need your practice, Pet, I’m not always going to be there to save you.”

You beat him every time.

Steve Rogers was the unofficial leader of the team. Unofficial, because he didn’t want anyone to think he was above them. However, he was the one who decided on and led missions. He was the one who kept the team in line, he was the one who kept an eye out for everyone.

Since introducing you to the team, you hadn’t seen much of him; for various reasons. He worked often, going on missions more and when he wasn’t, he was busy preparing for the next mission. When he wasn’t doing that, he was working out with Bucky or just spending time with his best-friend.

And therein was the reason you hardly saw the Captain.

Bucky Barnes did not appear to be a fan of yours. Your presence seemed to make the man uncomfortable. When you entered the room, he would sit up straighter, would tense and watch you as you moved about. When you trained in the gym, his eyes would focus on you and you knew he was working out your style, to know how best to take you down. He only spoke to you when necessary and he was always short and to the point.

He wasn’t outright rude, but his dislike of you was clear. The only time he had outright asked about something pertaining to you, it was when he was confused over Tony’s nickname for you. Tony had proceeded to introduce him to the Batman comics and with Poison Ivy’s character, you were sure you were put in a darker light.

In his avoidance of you, Steve was also avoiding you by association.

You didn’t see much of the other Avengers. Thor was often in Asgard but had graced the compound with his presence occasionally. He was always polite but often kept a close eye on you, especially when his brother, Loki, took a shine to you.

Loki thought you were interesting for a mortal. He had never met a mortal who could control nature like you could, he called you ‘The Life Giver’ which you had strongly disagreed with. However, you found Loki fun to socialise with, he was interesting and mischievous, often liking to cause trouble which you couldn’t help but find amusing. He also had a love of knives which you shared an interest in and you had compared various weapons, discussing the pros and cons of each.

Honestly, none of the Avengers approved of your blossoming friendship with the God of Mischief. Still, they let you be, though they kept close watch.

You had only met Doctor Strange once but you found him fascinating. A sorcerer of great power, you were amazed by his abilities. Peter had told you how he had worked with Doctor Strange during the battle against Thanos, and that the magician could create portals. Thor had taken that moment to delight in telling you that Doctor Strange had made Loki fall through a portal for thirty minutes.

Apart from that first meeting, you also hadn’t met any of the other members of the team again. King T’Challa and his sister, Princess Shuri had left almost immediately for their home. Scott Lang didn’t often visit the compound but whenever he did, you didn’t happen across him.

“I can’t wait for winter” you huffed, dragging the bottle over your sweltering skin.

“Too hot for you, Pet?” Sam asked, taking a seat on the couch opposite you.

“Mm” you agreed. “I’m Russian, we like the cold. My sozdany dlya etogo [We’re made for it].”

“Kak pokazyvayet tvoye serdtse [As your heart shows]” Natasha jested, earning a chuckle from you.

While the words at face value were funny, it was hiding a meaning behind them which you both chuckled at. Natasha was one of the best spies in the world, tied with Bucky. She was observant and smart, and it hadn’t taken her long to put two-and-two together.

She knew you found The Winter Solider attractive. You couldn’t help it. Tall, broad shoulders, dark hair and beautiful eyes. He was a stunning specimen of a man. He was clearly intelligent and undoubtedly observant, with a key attention to detail.

Working with him on missions and seeing him the limited times around the compound had drawn your attention. There was something about him. He was all man. Your body hummed when he was near, and you were acutely aware of his presence.

You didn’t bother to deny your attraction when Natasha had confronted you. There was no point. There was no lying to Natasha Romanoff. She didn’t judge you from you crush. She did, however, make veiled comments.

“What does that mean?” Tony asked, looking between the two of you. “You know its very rude to speak in a language that others don’t speak.”

“Bucky can speak it, he counts as others” you shrugged, smirking at Tony. “Eto ne nasha vina, chto vash ‘geniy’ zakhodit tak daleko [It’s not our fault your ‘genius’ only goes so far].”

This earned a laugh from Natasha and Bucky, who was quietly leaning against a wall, Steve sitting in front of him. Tony’s eyes flickered between the three of you, “What? What did she say?”

“On vyuchit odin den’ [He’ll learn one day]” Natasha smirked, wiggling her eyebrows at the billionaire.

“What? Bucky,” he turned to the quiet assassin, arm extended and pointing at you and Natasha. “What are they saying? Are they talking about me? What did they say?”

Bucky’s eyes went from Tony to you. His blue-grey eyes taking in your relaxed pose, leaning against Wanda as you held the cooling bottle against the base of your neck. You fought to keep your heartrate calm, his gaze sending tingles down your spine.

“YA somnevayus’, chto on budet [I doubt he will]” he rumbled before throwing the tiniest smirk at Tony and turning to leave the room.

It took a moment for you and Natasha to process his words but then you’re both laughing as Tony continues to question what you all were saying.

August

Your hands sat palm down, fingers spread as the glass tickled between them. Your hands ran against the grass and you sighed, smiling to yourself. You could feel the hum of the earth beneath your palms, the steady thrum of life which only you could feel.

It was an intoxicating feeling. Since leaving Hydra, you had taken great pleasure with just being part of the life around you. With your abilities over nature, you could feel the power of the earth and you fed off it.

In Hydra, they closely monitored your exposure to nature, not wanting to give you an opportunity to fight back and escape. You had never been able to explore the deep connection you had with the earth but since escape, it was something you indulged yourself in at every opportunity.

The compound is surrounded by open fields which back off onto tidy forests. After obtaining permission from Tony, you had happily taken ownership over a small section of the property and turned it into your own, personal, sanctuary.

You had started at the very beginning and created a small pond. It hadn’t been very hard to create the hole and line it with stone. You did take your time, lining the stones in a perfect formation with small ones framing the smaller ones. Tony had called in a water truck to fill it for you, which took an hour or two, but you hand enjoyed watching the pond fill.

When it was full, dressed in a new bikini, you had climbed into the pond. The water wasn’t deep, going to just above your waist. Your fingers trailed over the surface of the water, leaving flowers floating. Beautiful lily pads with bright pink lotuses, purple water lilies and water hyacinth. Yellow water poppies floated behind you, lazily moving across the pond. You walked to the edge pond, your finger running over the sides and leaving broadleaf arrowhead behind.

Flowers and weeds would soon bloom around the pond, and you hoped it would attract wildlife. It would be lovely to see frogs, dragonflies, and butterflies. You hoped that when your little spot of paradise was done, it would be teaming with life.

You crouched on the grass on north-west side of the pond and touched your hand to the earth. You breathed out slowly, closing your eyes as you envisioned what you wanted. The ground beneath you hummed as your power soaked into the grass below you, spreading outwards. You could feel the ground welcome you and allow you to bend it to your will.

You focus on the soil, creating the image in your mind of what you wanted. Long, strong roots buried deep in the ground, anchoring the large tree. From the ground, a large base would emerge with dark brown bark. It would stand tall, the thickness of the trunk showing strength and making it appear old. Branches would expend out, weighted down by long branchlets. You imagined them spanning wide, going so far as to dangle over the pond’s side.

You opened your eyes and stood up, smiling to yourself as you looked at the weeping willow in front of you. A hybrid of two different types of willow, it only had a life span of between forty to seventy-five years, but you knew you could make it live for a lot longer.

The tree fit in perfectly with the pond, giving off an enchanted vibe. It looked like something out of a fairy-tale, as if magical creatures would be hiding within the weeping willows branchlets. You created a stone bench at the base of the trunk and framed it with blooming flowers of varying colour, adding to the magical appearance.

You had made sure the rest of your area was full of natures favourites. There was plenty of nectar-rich flowers for bees and hummingbirds, with bright and bold colours to attract them. Marigolds, pansies and petunias sprouted, ready for the hungry tummies of rabbits you hoped to see in the future. You didn’t know whether the neighbouring trees housed deer but on the off chance, you made sure to grow hostas, daylilies and roses on the edge of the tree line.

Not wanting to make such a harsh change, you had extended some flowers into the other fields, letting them slowly grow to have more and more as they went towards your plot. It was a beautiful sight, anyone would agree.

Slowly, as the weeks went by, life began to bloom within your paradise. It started off small, a few butterflies and a stray dragonfly. Tiny frogs, that would hop away and hide if you got too close. Then you found the small warren and when you hid to spy on it, your heart warmed as the tiny rabbit’s nose which peaked out. It was incredible, to say the least.

Since creating this little slice of heaven, Steve had visited with his sketchbook in hand. The image the sanctuary provided was beautiful and something he was eager to capture. He had given you one of his sketches, one that was coloured in with watercolours which blended together. You had hung it on your bedroom wall that day.

Wanda had visited, smiling softly at the rose canina which scattered around the area. They were the flowers her brother used to pick for her, which were native to her homeland of Sokovia and the neighbouring country of Slovakia. Since then, you had made a small bush of the flowers outside her window and made sure it was always in bloom. She had said nothing but the smile she had was thanks enough.

The most common guest to your sanctuary was the most surprising. Bucky. He would come to quietly sit on the stone bench, lost in his thoughts as he watched the breeze blow the branchlets of the weeping willow. He found peace in that spot, and he enjoyed the freeness of the area rather than the confines of the compound.

One time, you had brushed through the branchlets of the tree to see him sitting motionless, watching a rabbit eat the marigolds on the floor beside him. You had frozen, worried about startling the little animal, but it ignored you, carrying on with its early afternoon snack.

“You’re here almost as often as I am” you observed, carefully walking to the edge of the pond.

“Its nice” he grunted, looking around appreciatively. “The compound can be… crowded.”

“Yes” you agree. You look over your shoulder to see him tracing a rose with his finger, avoiding the prickly thorns. “What flowers do you like, Bucky?”

Since that evening in July, Bucky had been more open towards you. Though he still kept his distance, he didn’t out-right avoid you. He no longer tensed when you entered the room, but his eyes remained on you, keeping a close watch. His observations of your fighting style had decreased and now he actually continued his work out, only throwing occasional glances at you.

It was progress.

“Sunflowers” he finally replied, having been sorting through his thoughts for the last few minutes.

The next time he visited the sanctuary, sunflowers lined the entrance to the willow’s spot.

Now, you sit with your palms on the grass with your fingers spread. You allowed yourself to just breathe in the fresh air and enough the hum of life beneath your palms. It was a wonderful feeling, making your heart fill with content as you allowed yourself to just feel.

So entuned with the earth beneath you, you felt the approach of another instantly. You knew their footsteps would be considered light, soundless, but through the ground it felt heavy. There are five sets of footsteps approaching from in front of you, a direction that no one should be coming from. There about a mile out, far enough that your other senses wouldn’t have picked them up.

There’s another set of footsteps behind you. These ones feel light even through the ground and you quickly recognise them. You don’t turn your head to him when he pushes through the branchlets and instead keep your eyes in front of you.

“Na severe otsyuda yest’ proryv [There’s a perimeter breach, north of here]” his voice is low, and you know his eyes are scanning the area. He always speaks to you in Russian during missions when he doesn’t want locals or enemies to know what he’s saying. “Natal’ya i Toni idut szadi. Oni idut syuda [Natalia and Tony are coming in from behind them. They’re coming this way].”

“Pyat’ iz nikh. Meneye chem v odony mile [Five of them. Less than one mile out]” you inform him.

You ignored Bucky as he quietly passed on your information to Natasha and Tony, and, instead, focused of the intruders approaching. They walked in formation, and you could feel the heaviness of the weight they carried. They weren’t hikers who had gotten lost, these were people looking for the compound and with the sneaking up, you could assume their intentions weren’t good.

You take in a deep breath before pushing your ability outwards. In your minds eyes, plants begin to grow on the path before the intruders. Stinging nettles, hogweed, pain bush, and poison ivy. You line the forest floor which leads to your sanctuary with the plants. Though not plants that will kill, they are ones which will cause discomfort and, hopefully, impact the intruders.

You ensure to line the way with overgrown roots, little pockets underneath where a person could catch their foot. It wouldn’t be enough to stop them, but it will slow them down.

“YA mogu sdelat’ otverstiye, chtoby derzhat’ ikh. Oni dolzhny byt’ blizhe, khotya [I can make a hole to hold them. They need to be closer though],” you tell him, standing up and looking at him. “Mne nuzhno umet’ pravil’no yego razmer [I need to be able to size it correctly].”

Bucky nods and reiterates to Natasha and Tony, telling them to follow the group but keep a distance. He pulls out a knife from his leg holster, flipping it in his hand and preparing. He trusted that you would be able to effectively take down the intruders, but he still liked to be prepared for anything. That was the solider, the assassin, in him.

Soon enough, the intruders were close. You couldn’t see them through the trees but you could feel them through the earth. You knew Bucky could see them, he was a super solider with heightened senses.

You quickly took note of where each member of the group was. One leading, dead centre. Two sets flank to the left and two to the right, in a triangle formation. The weight in their feet makes it easy to calculate their heights, the tallest being just over six foot.

Their weight shifts slightly, they’re preparing themselves. Without waiting to see what they are readying themselves for, you open a pit below them. It was quick, instantaneous. The once solid ground simply opened up and swallowed them, leaving them in a pit eight feet deep.

By the time they’re on their feet, the hole is surrounded. You and Bucky stand on one side, Natasha and Tony on the other. Bucky and Natasha have guns out, each pointed at the group while Tony brandishes his Iron Man blasters.

Standing over them, you quickly allow vines to grow out of the sides of the hole. They grasp onto the intruders, wrapping around them and preventing them moving. They’ve unable to pick up their military-issued guns from the floor nor get the handguns or knives from their holsters.

“I didn’t realise we were having a party” Tony sasses, his helmet retreating.

You used the vines to lift each intruder out one at a time. Bucky and Natasha quickly relieved them of any weapons on their person and Natasha cuffed them with zip-ties that were in a compartment on her suit. If their grunts were anything to go by, she made sure the zip-ties were tight.

When they were all above ground and cuffed, you quickly filled in the hole. You didn’t want any stray animals falling in it and getting hurt. With their weapons in a pile, you form a basket of branches around them to carry them.

Tony leads the way through the sanctuary, mental hand on the shoulder of the leader of the group. Bucky follows behind with two more of the group, each of his hands griping one of their arms. Natasha escorts the final two and you are left to carry the numerous weapons.

“Tony, watch the sunflowers!” you scold as he roughly shoulders past one.

“You can just make another one” he scoffs, pushing the leader forward when he tried to stall.

“No, Tony, they’re special!” you tell him, stopping beside the sunflower to make sure it was okay and undamaged. “This is our safe space; you can’t just walk around like a brute.”

“I’m not walking around like a brute” he defends, looking at you over his shoulder. “And it’s just a flower, Y/N.”

“’Just a flower’?!” your voice rises with outrage. “I’ll have you know-”

“Ostav’ eto, Y/N, on ne ponimayet [Leave it, Y/N, he doesn’t understand]” Bucky says.

Though you were no longer ‘on a mission’, so to speak, he liked to speak in Russian to annoy Tony. After the instance last month and a few repeated scenarios, Tony had attempted to learn Russian but after a week, he soon gave up. Bucky, Natasha and you often spoke in the language to annoy the billionaire, with the former two taking great pleasure in making him uncomfortable.

“No Bucky- [But Bucky-]” you protested, throwing a glare at the billionaire.

“YA znayu [I know]” he nods. “On yego povredil? [Did he damage it?]”

“Net [No]” you confirmed.

Bucky let out a grunt and nodded, throwing a look of displeasure at Tony.

Though you hadn’t outright discussed it, Bucky knew that the sunflowers were specifically grown for him. They were a way of showing that Bucky was welcomed in the sanctuary, that it was a place that he could escape to, should he need to.

It was something he was grateful for. While he wasn’t a man who was particularly enthused by nature, he could appreciate its calming and healing abilities. The willow tree bench often brought him comfort in times of stress, ever peaceful with disruptions only coming from the wind or small passing animals.

Bucky had been truthful when he told you his favourite flower was a sunflower. He didn’t, however, tell you why. You didn’t pry, it wasn’t any of your business and you suspected it had something to do with life before the war. You knew he was truthful though, because you sometimes caught him gently stroking the petals of one of the flowers, a far-off look on his face.

Once you had returned to the compound, you separated from the group. You took the weapons to Tony’s lab, knowing that he would want to examine them before they were put in the lock-up. You had only visited Tony’s lab twice. The first time was when he wanted to run tests on your abilities, which you had reluctantly agreed to. The second time was two weeks ago when you dropped off a vial which you had been sent on a solo mission to gain.

Since Hydra, you weren’t a fan of labs or doctors’ offices. They made you extremely nervous and set you on edge. It made you feel like you were still in Hydra, that you were going to be strapped down and another serum would be pushed through your veins.

It was a terrifying thought. You never wanted to return to that lab, to be tied down again. While you were grateful for your abilities, if you could go back, you would change so much. You would have stayed on the streets of Krasnoyarsk, would have taken your chances at survival there. Hydra had changed you, and you still weren’t sure whether there were truly any ways it had changed you for the better.

Doctor Cho said it was completely normal, it was a form of PTSD, and as such, if you needed medical attention, she came to your room. While you still weren’t completely comfortable having a doctor around you, being in your own space made you more comfortable and allowed you to remain calm as you received medical treatment.

With your drop off complete, you returned to the team’s living quarters.

The kitchen was a beautiful mix of light grey and white, with marble countertops. Everything matched, from the white appliances to the grey cupboards. On the island was a vase of flowers, that you always kept in bloom, which offered the space the only pop of colour. The vibrant pinks, blues and yellows seemed to somehow brings the space together.

The arched doorway led into the living room. Though Tony had paid for it all, you knew that Sam and Natasha were the ones who chose the furniture. The plush ‘L’ shape couch was a dark grey, with colourful pillows and a two thick throw blankets over the back. Two soft armchairs sat on the right, with the TV at the end completing the rectangle of furniture.

There was once a fluffy rug under the coffee table, which sat in the middle of the put-together shape. However, Bucky wasn’t in the habit of removing his boots and had trailed dirt all over it. Wanda had gotten it clean, but it was a repeated offence until it was finally just thrown out.

As you passed through the kitchen, you waved your hand over the vase, brightening the flowers. While they were still beautiful, it looked like they had been knocked slightly and bent out of shape. It wasn’t a surprise, while they respected your ability, the Avengers didn’t tend to take care towards your plants.

Except Bucky.

He was always mindful of your plants. While he often touched the plants in the sanctuary, never once had he left a single petal out of place. When the team was having ‘family’ meals, he would quickly pull the vase of flowers from the table before Sam could accidently knock them off while roughhousing with one of the other men. You’d heard him telling Natasha and Peter to be careful when they had nearly toppled the flowers over while throwing snacks to each other.

It was only a small thing for him to do, but it still meant a lot to you. Bucky knew, perhaps better than anyone, what you could do with your abilities but still, he didn’t want to cause more damage than absolutely necessary to your plants.

And while you weren’t close with the man, it would be a lie to say you didn’t have a soft spot for him. The way he respected your creations warmed your heart. He could barely be labelled as a friend. Still, it reaffirmed the crush that you had on him.

You curled yourself into the corner of the couch, folding your legs under yourself. You grabbed the TV remote, knowing you had at least a few hours to waste until you would find out why the intruders were at the compound. You settled on Kitchen Nightmares, snuggling yourself further into the cushions.

Natasha found you a few hours later, eyes slightly glazed over as you were lost in your thoughts. You didn’t blink as she turned of the TV, and you didn’t acknowledge her until she gently shook your shoulder.

“Nat?” you blinked, looking around. “When did you get here, what’s going on?”

“Only a moment ago, you seemed pretty lost in your thoughts” she told you, taking a seat on the couch. “We got them talking, in the end. We know why they came here.” “And?” you asked, sitting up straighter and turning to face her.

She waited a moment, her eyes carefully taking in your expression. “They came for you and Barnes.”

“Hydra?” you sighed when she nodded in confirmation. “It’s been years and yet they still want us.”

“We thought we had got all of their agents… obviously we were wrong” she said, head tilting and eyebrow lifting slightly as she spoke.

“‘Cut off one head and two more shall take its place’” you quoted.

October

You had never celebrated Halloween before. You had been raised in an orphanage un by the Orthodox Church and Halloween was act of betrayal to God. After leaving the orphanage, you had been taken into Hydra, where you never celebrated anything. After escaping the clutches of Hydra, you had been on the run. There was no time to celebrate a Pagan holiday while running for your life.

For the last week, Peter had not stopped talking about the upcoming holiday. You knew the young hero was excited, he practically bounced when it was mentioned. He got especially excited when Tony had announced he was throwing a Halloween party and that Peter could invite his friends.

“What was Halloween like in Russia, Y/N?” Peter asked you.

“It’s not hugely popular, not enough to be a tradition, anyway. People do celebrate it though” you replied. “When Russia welcomed the West in the nineties, it became more well-known… it depends on where in Russia you are from. The Orthodox Church doesn’t approve of celebrating it at all, so if you’re from a religious area…” you shrugged, trailing off.

“Did you ever celebrate it?” he passed the carton of ice-cream over to you.

“No” you shook your head, accepting the scooper. “This will be my first time.”

“Oh, you’ll love it! It’s so much fun!” he assured.

After you had agreed to attend Tony’s party in two weeks’ time, you had gone costume shopping with Natasha and Wanda. You hadn’t been planning on dressing up as anything really, you were happy to just put of your suit and go like that. However, neither of the girls were willing to let you do that.

“So, what do you want to be?” Wanda asked, browsing the shelves at the local mall.

“I don’t know” you shrug, following after her. “What are you going to be?”

“Vis and I are doing couples-costumes this year” she blushes. “We’re going as Alice and The Mad Hatter.”

“I’m going as Pennywise; I have the hair for it” Natasha shrugs.

“What’s Pennywise?” you ask, looking between your two friends.

“You’ve never seen It?! You’ve seen Sleepless in Seattle, but you haven’t seen It?” Natasha huffed in disbelief.

“Tom Hanks is in Sleepless in Seattle… I like Tom Hanks” you defended weakly, giving an awkward smile and a small shrug.

“We’ll watch it later, it’s great” Wanda assured.

You continued to search the store for a costume, but nothing caught your eye. As you were beginning to think that maybe you just wouldn’t find one, a gasp to your left caught your attention. You turned quickly, your arm raised and ready in case someone was being attacked.

Instead, Wanda stood holding a costume, grinning and bouncing in her spot as she showed you. As soon at Natasha saw it, she was smirking at you too, firmly agreeing with her choice. As you hadn’t found anything you liked, though you had been in the store for two hours, you reluctantly agreed to their choice.

Later that evening, you sat on the couch with the rest of the team as Wanda kneeled in front of the TV. She placed the DVD into the player and grabbed the remote, returning to her seat beside Vision. She had managed to gather the whole team into the front room to watch It, a horror film you had never seen before.

Wanda had shown you DVD case earlier and you had to admit, you were already a little on edge. You were an Avenger, trained by Hydra, with abilities beyond normal. However, seeing a picture of the clown, Pennywise, made your stomach turn. Especially when there appeared to be children involved.

“Oh, no…oh, no” you whisper quietly to yourself, watching the small paper boat drain.

The child, Georgie, was wearing a yellow raincoat like the child on the front of the DVD case. It was reasonable to assume he would meet the clown. Now, you weren’t a particularly nervous person in normal circumstances, but you grew up surrounded by children and looking after younger children in the orphanage. The instinct to protect children was ingrained within you, so you know this film would put you on edge.

You hardly notice as you start to tilt to the left, your hand lifting up to pull at their shirt. The pulling causes them to lean forward slightly, enough for you to tuck your head behind them with your eyes peaking over their shoulder. You quickly close your eyes, ducking your head to hide as Pennywise’s mouth opens and reveals its pointed teeth.

You breathe in deeply through your nose and its then that you realise who you are hiding behind. His unique smell fills your senses, making your head go fuzzy for a moment. It was a wonderful mixture of mint and woods. It was the scent of the outdoors, dirt and wood and rain. There was another smell underneath, something you couldn’t identify that was just all him. It was intoxicating, making your eyes want to roll back.

You slowly pull away from Bucky, moving back to sit properly. Your cheeks are ablaze, no doubt bright red with embarrassment. You had never touched Bucky before and the first time you had, you had hidden behind him because of a film.

Though Bucky had allowed you to move him – he was more than strong enough to resist you – you knew he wasn’t comfortable with that contact. While he hadn’t been rigid, his body had been tensed against yours. You knew Bucky well enough to know that he didn’t have physical contact with many people. He hugged Steve every now and again, received and gave friendly pats of the back with Sam, and often physically trained with other agents. However, that was the extent of the physical contact.

Guilt ate up at you. You liked Bucky, harboured a small crush on him, and making him uncomfortable was not something you had wanted to do. You hadn’t even realised that you were moving to hide behind him. Still, you thought, that wasn’t an excuse.

“Sorry” you whispered, so low that only he would be able to hear you.

“‘s’fine” Bucky replied, eyes not leaving the screen.

You sat stoically throughout the rest of the film, so lost in your embarrassment that you hardly jumped. You couldn’t believe you had done that, that you basically cuddled up to him.

In honesty, you weren’t surprised you had leaned towards Bucky when you were scared. It had been a subconscious decision to seek comfort from him, rather than from Sam who was to your right. Something about Bucky just screamed ‘safe’.

A soldier, Hydra trained assassin, and valuable member of the Avengers, Bucky was not a man to be trifled with. He was strong, brave, and powerful. In every sense of the words. However, while you knew of his brute strength, there was something about his quiet persona which also assured you. He was observant, thoughtful, smart and patient.

Everything about him screamed ‘protective’. You knew it wasn’t just your mind telling you things either. Bucky had proved on multiple occasions that he had the teams back, including yours. He had thrown a Hydra agent away from Natasha when she had been caught up in a fight with two other and hadn’t seen him sneaking up behind her. He had covered Wanda when she was using her powers to contain a bomb. He had covered for Sam when a one-night-stand just didn’t’ get the hint.

He watched out for all of the team, without expecting them to return the favour. Of course, the team looked out for him in return, he just didn’t just assume they would. They worked together well, treating each other like the family they were.

The film ended and the room was plunged into darkness for a moment before F.R.I.D.A.Y switched on the lights. On the right of you, Sam was sprawled against the couch with his head tilted back and soft snores falling from his nose. Looking around, you noticed Tony was also fast asleep and Peter was yawning.

“So, what did you think, Y/N?” Natasha asked, shifting in her chair to face you.

“I didn’t like the clown” you admitted, blushing as you bit your lip and shrugged.

“Really, you’re scared of clowns?” Peter questioned. “Why?”

“That film… erm, the…the…I don’t know it in English. Pokhititel’ detey [Child snatcher]” you replied.

“Child snatcher” Bucky and Natasha translated simultaneously, before Natasha continued, “’Chitty Chitty Bang Bang’.”

“Mm” you confirmed with a nod. “We were told he was a clown who took children… It scared us all. The nuns would always threaten us, tell us that he’ll come to get us.”

“But he doesn’t look like a clown” Peter protested, confused.

“No” you agreed, nodding. “But when you’re young and that comparison is made, it sticks.”

When Halloween came, you were locked up in your room to get ready with Wanda and Natasha. The women had both been excited for that the party, and you had secluded yourselves to get ready four hours early.

Wanda looked beautiful in her short blue dress, with a white apron and a pair of white tights. The front sections of her hair were pulled back from her face, held back by an invisible hair tie and a blue headband. Her hair was lightly curled, bouncing down her back beautifully. Her black heels sat by the bedroom door, ready for her to slip on when you all left for the party.

Natasha, true to her word, was dressed as Pennywise. The female, sexier version, anyway. She wore a short, ruffled dirty white dress with red pompoms down the middle. White knee-high socks covered her legs with a pair of blood red pumps on her feet. Her red hair was in two pigtails, the ends waved. Her face was painted white, with two vertical lines cutting through her eyes, over her cheeks and connecting to her red lips.

As uncomfortable as clowns made you, you couldn’t deny that Natasha looked great as the killer clown.

You stood in front of the full-length mirror, pulling at the hair that fell over your shoulders. While you could admit that you looked good, you still didn’t know whether you were up for wearing it. You were showing more skin than usual, much more, and something inside you said that was wrong.

“You look great” Natasha assured you. “You just need to add the vines.”

Your eyes ran over your body again. You wore a tight green corset body bodysuit which pushed your breasts up and together. Wanda had help you put on the authentic looking pink-red wig which fell in long waves over your chest and down your back. The two women had insisted that you skip the green tights and just wore the green heels with your legs near bare.

While you looked good, your outfit wasn’t yet a costume. Not a proper one, at least. You walked over to your windowsill, hovering your hand over the small pot of dirt that sat there. Slowly, two stems of vines poked out from the soil. You reached in, plucking them out and bending over to hold them against your ankles.

A few moments later, long vines were wrapped around your ankles and extended up your ships and curled around the bottom of your thigh, just above the knee cap. Small pink, white and yellow flowers bloomed sparingly along the vines, adding pops of colour around green leaves.

Picking one of the leaves and holding it to your chest, you closed your eyes and envisioned yourself. You imagined the more leaves sprouting from the one you held, imagined them growing and wrapping around your corset. The corset would be covered, left to look like it was created by leaves and not fabric.

Plucking a flower from the vines on your leg, you held it to your hair and let it wrap around the stand, holding the hair back from your face. There, you thought as you looked in the mirror again, you looked much more like the character Tony nicknamed you after.

“I feel like that’s cheating” Natasha joked, her head tilted, and lips pursed. Her eyes trailed over you, taking in the whole ensemble. “That lipstick does look good on you though; you should wear it more often. Now come on, we’re gonna be late and Wanda needs to meet Vision.”

Natasha was right and you did enter the party late. Agents, scientists, doctors, social elites and at least one member of the press filled the open space. Tony had elected to throw the party at the compound, on one of the lower floors which had a huge open space.

While the room was bright, shadows were thrown from the decorations. Fake spiders sat in cotton webs, hanging over banisters and on the edge of the bar. A cauldron bubbled, dry ice emitting white smoke over its rim. Knee-height plastic fencing lined a little path to a small booth where a photography waited to take pictures of guests.

“Is that a coffin?” you asked, looking to the far side of the room.

“Any Halloween decoration that you can imagine is in this room” Pepper nodded, looking around. “You know what Tony’s like: ‘Go big or go home’.”

“Hence his attitude” Natasha whispered, just loud enough for you to hear.

“Nat” you elbowed her, biting your tongue to hold back your laughter.

“Ivy!” the shouting of your nickname draws your attention to the eccentric millionaire who had just caught sight of you. “And you’re actually her!”

Tony was thrilled by your outfit, and, in a rare display of affection from him, gave you a tight hug. Of course, he was immensely proud to say that he gave you the idea for the outfit. You smiled and shook your head, not bothering to argue with him.

His hands traced the leaves curing around your hips, obvious amazement in his face. “How did you get them to do this? It’s amazing, they’re literally wrapped around you. Bruce, Bruce! Have you seen this, look!”

You had been introduced to the quiet Bruce Banner earlier on that day. Natasha had convinced him to visit the compound and Tony had bribed him to stay with access to his own lab. While rather timid, he was more than comfortable to speak to you about science. While your brain wasn’t that of a scientist, your abilities were a scientific mystery.

Something about the kind man made you comfortable to answer his questions. He wasn’t invasive like other curious people. Rather than wondering how you got your gifts, he was more curious about what you could do with them and how. Not because he wanted to use you, but because he wasn’t you to have a better understanding of them.

What shocked you more was why he had this reasoning. You had heard about The Hulk, though you didn’t know much about him. While on the run, you had heard of the green giant with a strength beyond current measure. Finding out that Dr Banner was The Hulk was astounding.

Rather than wanting to state his own curiosity, he wanted you to understand yourself. When he first became The Hulk, while he knew it happened because of his experimentation with gamma radiation, he didn’t fully understand. It wasn’t until years later and a lot of further research, that he got his answers and he was finally at peace with himself.

Bruce wanted you to have that peace too.

“Huh,” Bruce said, poking at the leaves. “I don’t think this is natural behaviour at all, but we’ll have to run some tests.” He picked at a leaf slightly, turning to Tony, “Do you think we could get a few different varieties of bushes and flowers to-”

“Okay, stop, leave the girl alone” Pepper shooed them both away. “This is a party, your party Tony, you can play scientist tomorrow. Now go.”

Smoothing down his lab coat, because of course he came as a scientist, Bruce smiled before taking his leave. “See you later.”

“I can’t believe you just came in a suit” you shook your head at Tony.

“I’m James Bond” he defended, pulling a ‘are you for real?’ face.

“Yes, well, James Bond needs to speak with Mr Mikaelson about fund raising gala next month” Pepper said, hooking her arm through Tony’s and pulling him away.

The rest of the party goes well, with you receiving many compliments on your outfit. Just like Tony and Bruce, they all seemed amazed at the authenticity of the plants which wrapped around your body.

A member of the press seemed to be infatuated with your costume, though it was in appreciation of the plants but rather of your body. His eyes had travelled your body, focusing on your thighs, and he fought to keep his mouth from dropping open.

You had made an attempt to avoid the man and his camera. Your evening was made exceptionally better when you heard his yell from across the room. He had put his camera on the table while he went to grab a drink and when he returned, his camera was broken. You had caught a glimpse of it, and it appeared to have been crushed. You couldn’t say you felt any sympathy for the man.

It was towards the end of the evening that you ran into the trio you jokingly referred to as ‘The Three Musketeers’. The three of them stood near the bar, each with drinks in their hand as they cast watchful glances around the room.

Sam had obviously gone for the humorous look. Dressed in a cheap Captain America costume, with the obvious cushioned muscles, he was clearly poking fun at his friend. In his hand was a plastic version of the real shield, part of it bent which was probably from Steve trying to grab it off him earlier in the evening.

He was the first to see you walking over to them, reaching out and pulling you closer. He gave you a gentle squeeze in greeting before letting you go and waving for the bartender.

“Y/N” Steve nodded in greeting.

“Hey, Cap” you smiled. “Love the outfit.”

Steve was dressed as Indiana Jones, having watched the film a few month ago and becoming a huge fan of Harrison Ford. The brown leather jacket was tight across his back and he had the whip wrapped up and attached to his hip. The famous hat sat on the bar beside him, resting next to a glass of what appeared to be whiskey.

You had to admit, Steve pulled off the character rather well.

Bucky made up the last member of the little team. His outfit was rather unsurprising. Rather than a traditional outfit, he wore his mission suit. A tight black leather top with matching black trousers, combat boots on his feet. He looked like he did on any other day.

When you tilted your head to the side and went to open your mouth to comment, he quickly held up his right hand. You quickly grinned when you spotted the mask, your eyes lighting up in amusement.

“Oh, Bucky, we match!” you grin. “Now we just need to find our Robin, Harley Quinn and The Joker.”

“Hm” he rolls his eyes, letting the Batman mask fall to his side.

“Don’t worry, I won’t try and poison you tonight” you teased with a wink.

Sam snorts into his drink, turning away to hide his smile.

“What made you go with… this?” Bucky asks and your insides burn as his eyes travel over you.

“Wanda suggested it after I couldn’t find anything I liked” you shrugged. “It’s amused Tony and he made me take a few pictures with him. The nickname is definitely staying now.”

It was true, Tony had found you after slipping past Pepper and had pulled you along to the photobooth. He’d taken great pleasure in telling the photographer that he had nicknamed you ‘Ivy’ and had, essentially, given you the idea for the costume.

“I still think ‘Petal’ is better” Sam argued.

“I’m sure you do” you acknowledged with a nod. “You never call me by my name anymore.” “What is your name?” he joked; his face mock serious. When you made a playful threatening move towards him, he quickly wagged his finger at you. “Careful Pet, you can’t take me all by yourself.”

“I know for a fact that Bucky has a least one knife-” you begin.

“Three” Bucky interrupts to confirm.

“Three knives” you correct with a small nod in thanks. “hidden on him and would sooner back me up than you.”

“Three knives?! Bucky!” Steve chides, giving his best-friend a disapproving look before turning to you. “How did you know he had them on him?”

“The same way that he knows I’ve got a knife hidden in my corset” you shrug. “It’s what we were taught.”

There’s no response to that as Steve and Sam are reminded of your time within Hydra. Though you weren’t often comfortable talking about the scientific experience of Hydra, you were not ashamed to admit you had been trained by the organisation itself. You had been tricked, and later forced, into it and it was in the past. You couldn’t hold it over yourself anymore or you’d never be able to move on.

You had accepted your past and, now, it was time to more forward with your life.

“And one in your left shoe” Bucky nodded at the heel.

“All right, pipe down” you rolled your eyes.

Since the night the team had watched It, your interactions with Bucky had steadily increased. Though you could hardly be called best friends, the former assassin now spoke to you. The conversations were neither long nor often but still, everyone made your insides warm from his attention.

The friendly conversation and teasing callouts were something you wasn’t expecting to develop but you couldn’t deny that you your enjoyed them. From the small remarks he made, you knew that behind his quiet brooding, there was a man with a sparkling personality.

Hydra had just buried it deep within him.

Every day with the team seemed to slowly chip away at the walls he had been forced to build. His morning runs with Steve and Sam, his time spent with Steve regaining his memories of the forties. His playful fights with Sam, verbal and sometimes physical in the gym. Natasha goading him into a fight to see who the best assassin was while Wanda quietly encouraged him to join in with team activities.

However, it was Tony who helped in the biggest way. It had taken time, but he had accepted that it was The Winter Solider who had taken his parents. He no longer blamed Bucky, which greatly eased the man’s guilt. He still felt horrible for what he did under Hydra’s influence, but he was slowly learning to forgive himself.

“You two are unbelievable” Steve shook his head with a small smile.

“Thank you” you grin, playfully bumping your arm into Bucky’s.

“We’re here all weekend” he finished, flashing Steve his own smile.

“Where’d you learn that?” you asked, eyebrow raised at the super solider.

He pursed his lips, shrugging. “The Tonight Show.”

“Don’t tell Tony” Sam advises, glancing around for the billionaire. “It would only set him off and he won’t stop talking about how he’s been on there.”

You spent another ten minutes with the boys before you left them to find Natasha. The rest of the evening passed fairly quickly, and it wasn’t long until you found yourself tucked up in bed. Your head aching from the wig and your mind overworked from socialisation, you soon drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

You woke up the next morning from a message from Natasha with a link which you soon clicked on. It led you to an article, posted very early that morning, of Tony’s party. Your eyes barely skimmed the article but near the end, you understand why she had sent it to you.

There, clear for you to see, is a picture of you and Bucky. Your slightly leant against him, with you head barely titled towards him. Your both looking at something off to the side, both of you grinning happily. It takes you a moment to place it but then you realise, its from that moment with Steve.

You both look happy, carefree. It’s the first time you’ve seen Bucky fully smile, his eyes seeming to sparkle as he looked at his best friend. Though you know he wasn’t entirely comfortable in a room full of strangers, he looks content to be within that group, your group.

You smile and save the picture, dropping your phone on the bed and getting up for a shower.

November

“I can’t drink that; my aunt will kill me!” Peter hissed, pushing the flute away and quickly looking around to ensure no one was watching you both.

“Its fine, Pete, it’s just one glass” you assured him. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“I’m pretty sure the drinking age is twenty-one, Peter” Bucky said, stepping up beside you, arms crossed, and an eyebrow raised.

“I wasn’t going to drink it, Sergeant Barnes, honest” Peter denied, stepping back and waving his hands to show they were empty.

You rolled your eyes, nudging Bucky. “Leave the kid alone. He’s almost eighteen, and I know you drank way before you came of age.” You turned back to Peter. “I promise, Pete, your aunt won’t kill you for one glass. If you don’t want it, that’s fine, but don’t reject it just because your scared of getting in trouble.”

You knew Peter wouldn’t get in trouble for drinking the one small flute of champagne. Before offering it to him, you had asked Aunt May if he would be allowed to try it. If he tried it in your company, where you could keep an eye on him, he wouldn’t sneak off to try it later and get himself in trouble.

Tony’s charity gala was going incredibly well. Celebrities, socialites, the press and even a few ‘ordinary’ people. You could even spot two Gods walking around. The gala was being held in a large hall in the middle of Manhattan. Round tables with matt gold table clothes lined a hard wood dance floor in front of a large stage. Crystal chandeliers cast light around the room, with help from a single candle on each table.

“Are you sure I won’t get in trouble?” Peter asked, eyes wide as he blinked up at you.

“I promise” you assured him.

He took the glass from your hand and starred at it unsurely. He took a deep breath as if to prepare himself before bringing the glass to his lips, taking a sip. His nose scrunched up, head shaking as he pushed it back into your hands. “Ugh, no, that’s nasty.”

You and Bucky laughed at his reaction, and you dropped the near full glass on the empty table behind you. “It’s champagne. People rave about it but it’s not really that good.”

“If it doesn’t taste good, then why do people drink it?” he asks innocently.

Bucky snorts, shaking his head. “They don’t drink it for the taste, kid.”

“Some people do” you correct him. “Some people like it, like Tony, Pepper and Natasha.”

You were solidly in the ‘I don’t like champagne’ team. Tony had insisted on opening a bottle after your first mission, to celebrate you joining the team, and that had been the first time you had tried the bubbly drink. Your nose had scrunched up at the taste and it led to teasing for hours about your lack of taste in alcohol.

“I think I’ll just stick with this” Peter said, tilting his glass of Sprite towards you. Something catches his eye over your shoulder and he grins. “MJ’s here!”

“Go get her, tiger” you tease, nudging him in her direction.

“I’ll see you later” he blushes, hurrying in the direction of his girlfriend.

Your heart warms as you watch them greet each other. Their hands link, squeezing gently, neither of them ones for public displays of affection. They were truly adorable, probably the cutest couple you had come across. MJ was a sweet girl, a dry sense of humour and a sassy personality. She complimented Peter’s soft nature perfectly.

You were glad she had accepted Peter’s invitation, though you knew she wasn’t a fan of large fancy parties. Everyone was told that they needed a date for the gala, and Peter had worried that MJ wouldn’t accompany him, and Tony would be disappointed that he was failed to acquire a date. You had reassured him, of course, but that worry was still there.

“I adore them” you sigh happily, watching as they huddle at a corner table to hide and talk, rather than socialise.

“Trust me, everyone knows” Bucky nods. When you turn to his with a raised eyebrow, he continues, “You provide the kid with a bouquet every time you see him, just so he can give them to MJ.”

You shrug, taking a sip of your drink. “She likes the white and blue hydrangeas.”

It was quiet for a moment before Bucky spoke again, “You know the last time she came to the compound, he took her to the sanctuary?” “I’m not surprised, everyone visits at some point” you grin for a moment before turning a little more serious. “I found Richard from HR there the other week. He was picking at some of the daisies… which mysteriously suddenly grew sharp thorns. He’s been permanently banned, and I asked Pepper to send a compound-wide email with instructions of not to touch our flowers.”

From the corner of your eye, you could see Bucky give a small smile at your use of the word ‘our’. You quickly lifted your glass for another sip of your drink, attempting to hide the blush colouring your cheeks.

You had been truthful in your words. In your mind, the flowers belonged to both of you. While people visited the sanctuary at their leisure, it had an ‘owner’, so to speak. However, you couldn’t help but feel like the sanctuary belonged to you and Bucky.

Even though winter had come, you could still find Bucky in the sanctuary at various times throughout the day. He’d be wrapped up in his leather jacket, with a scarf and a pair of gloves on. Sometimes he’d have a thermos between his knees, a book in one hand and a cup of still-steaming coffee in another.

With the amount of time you both spent in the sanctuary, you had gotten comfortable in each other’s company. You would share the bench and read together. Bucky would bring an extra thermos for you and you would pastila, cherry pirozhki, and plyushka. You sit with your coffees and snacks and enjoy the silence and comfort of the sanctuary.

Slowly, you began to talk more and more. While before the conversations had been short, they slowly grew longer and more personal. His trust in you grew. You had been with the team for six months, and it had taken time, but he grew to trust you. you had his back during missions, you supported him silently through training with small nods in his direction, you helped his healing by growing sunflowers for him.

It was during one of your evenings on the bench that he told you about his favouritism of sunflowers. Most of the plants in New York, at the time, were rather drab. Weeds grew from the sidewalk, some a spikey green and sometimes a sickly dandelion. He’d seen bouquets in stories, once someone had even brought one for his sister, but the variety was selected and with the fumes of nineteen-forties New York, they were often on the verge of weltering.

However, when he had left the city of New York and went for his training with the army, he had seen them for the first time. Stuck in a bus of sweaty men, Bucky had gazed out the window and saw sunflowers for the first time. He’d tried sunflower seeds before, though they weren’t a huge staple in his area. However, he had never seen the flower itself.

Bucky’s memory of the forties wasn’t the clearest, but this was a memory which he could envision easily. Dozens upon dozens of sunflowers lined the field. They stood tall, the large heads of the flowers pointed to the sun and soaking up its goodness. Unlike flowers in the city, these flowers were vibrant in colour. Bucky was sure he had never seen a flower so beautifully yellow.

Through the horror of preparing for war, the flowers still stood bright and strong. It installed a sense of hope within him. If those sunflowers could be so full of life during war-time, there had to be hope out there. So, when Bucky shipped off for war, that was one of the things he would hope for. He’d think about returning to his mom, his sisters, Steve, and he would return to see those sunflowers again.

It wasn’t just Bucky who had opened up. You told him about your childhood in the orphanage, of the children you used to help care for because the Nuns were always too busy. Though they could be kind, they weren’t exactly nurturing individuals. In a way, you couldn’t blame them. They had joined the church to serve God, and while some did choose to attend to the orphanage, a lot of them were assigned there by those of higher authority.

You told him of little Nina. A beautiful little girl who was half your age. Just as her name said, she was a dreamer. She dreamt of leaving the orphanage, of going to far away lands such as England or France. She loved the sound of France, with the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre museum. While you did your chores and looked after the toddlers of the orphanage, she would tell you of her dreams to travel and explore. She’d been adopted two years before you left the orphanage, by a family in Austria.

You had also found the courage to tell him about your time in the labs of Hydra. He was the first person you had openly spoke to about it, and he was patient and listened to you. it felt like it had taken you hours to tell him everything, the fear and hatred of the labs making you take breaks to gather your strength. He stayed quiet, a solid rock of support by your side as you finally told someone about what Hydra put you through.

After opening up about your time with them, he told you about his. Hearing that someone else had been subjected to similar treatment… it brought you a sense of comfort because finally, someone may understand.

Your interactions with Bucky weren’t limited to the sanctuary either. You sat together during movie nights and bowls of popcorn. He would spar with you in training, telling you to not use your abilities.

“You never know, you could find yourself without them” he had said.

You would leave out a plate of freshly made plyushka for him, with a small sunflower as an identifier of who the treats were for.

When it came to the gala, it seemed natural for you to attend with Bucky. Just like Peter had been required to have a date, so had the members of the Avengers. Steve and Natasha, Wanda and Vision, Tony and Pepper, Sam and his current girlfriend Marianne. Bucky was your friend, someone you enjoyed spending time with.

Going to the gala together saved you both. Wanda had wanted you to go with Richard from HR, the one who violated your sanctuary, and Sam tried to set Bucky up with Sophie from the third floor. Neither you nor Bucky were interested in the suggested individuals, so going together seemed like a pretty smart idea.

However, you had not been prepared to see him in his suit. You knew Bucky was attractive, you had checked him out multiple times and had been teased by Natasha about your crush on him. Seeing him in a form-fitting suit, with his hair pulled back in a half-bun… it made your knees weak. You already knew that dark colours suited him, so of course he looked great in the black suit, but you’d also discovered that the pink champagne colour of his tie suited him nicely.

Bucky’s tie perfectly matched the colour of your dress. Your dress was a beautiful pink champagne colour which complimented your skin beautifully. Spaghetti straps laid delicately over your shoulders, leading to golden vines and leaves which covered your breasts. There was a small gap of fabric between your breasts and waist, leaving smooth skin visible beneath the vines and leaves. The vines extended to the beginning of the floor-length champagne pink tulle skirt, which hugged your waist but then flowed freely to the floor.

It had taken a long time to find the perfect dress. You had spent the day shopping with Wanda, Natasha and Pepper to find the perfect dress but all the ones you came across just weren’t…. you.

You had tried on a tight maroon red dress, with a plunging neckline and a slit up the left leg. Natasha had been quick to praise you in it, her eyes wide and her lips stretched in a grin. The next dress you tried on was a strapless forest green, with slight ruffles on the skirt. Wanda had loved it, saying it ‘fits you perfectly’ but you didn’t think it was the one. Pepper had favoured a lilac dress with small flowers which climbed from the hem of the skirt. It was a wonderful dress, probably your favourite out of the three, but still… it didn’t feel right.

You’d found your dress at the back of the store, hidden behind the colourful gowns that people usually went for. While still elegant, it was slightly more subtle than the other dresses in the store. As soon as you saw it, you knew you had to try it on. It was while you were putting it on that you came across the realisation.

There was some form of floral design on every one of your outfits.

The black jeans you had worn that day had small sunflowers stitched into the waist band and along the ankles. Most of your tops had pastel flowers pained on them, or bronze leaves. You had even specially ordered a pair of Converses with sunflowers, orange roses and orange and red bicolour germini.

You don’t know how you didn’t realise your fashion choice sooner.

When you had tried the dress on, you had known it was perfect straightway. Even without your hair and make-up done, you felt, as they say, like a million dollars. As soon as you had stepped out of the changing room, the girls had praising you and telling you ‘its like it was made for you’.

When you had met Bucky at the compound, ready for the drive to the gala venue, he’d quickly complimented you. You noticed how his eyes trailed over your appearance appreciatively, with his mouth slightly dropped open for a moment before he quickly caught himself. Offering you his arm, he had given you and small smile and told you looked beautiful.

You had thought for sure that you were going to die from the heat filling your cheeks. Your throat had seemed to close up and her heartbeat erratically in your chest from his compliment. You had been hyper aware of his presence by your side, his usual calm and quiet self except when he whispered quietly in your ear about a stuck-up attendee.

“Mrs Archard thinks Pepper’s choice of band is appalling” Bucky whispers, pointing discreetly to the seventy-year-old woman who stood beside her husband, sipping on her gin and tonic.

“She thinks this is bad?” you head tilted in the band’s direction with a roll of your eyes. “This is classic music, no doubt from her generation.”

“Shh!” he quickly hushed you, turning you both when Mrs Archard looked in your direction. “Oh, hey, look.” He pointed over to the bar, your eyes widening when your eyes land on the person he’s pointing out. “Its that the guy who played Sally? In the plane film?”

“Sully!” you correct him, going on you tip toes to get a better view. “And the film was based on a real event, Bucky, you know that. It’s Tom Hanks, the Tom Hanks, and he’s here!”

“Let’s go meet him” Bucky shrugs, beginning to pull you in the direction of your idol.

You quickly pull on his arms, bringing him to a stop. “No! No way! I can’t meet him, that’s crazy.”

“Y/N, doll, he’s just a man” he said, and you can see the corner of his lips tilt up in amusement.

“No, Bucky, he’s not!” you insist. “He’s Tom Hanks! I can’t meet him, no way.”

When Bucky tried to tug you over to the bar again, you quickly duck away from him and dart to the other side of the room. Since coming to America, and joining the Avengers, your exposure to film and TV had increased. From the countless movie nights with the team, you had discovered your love for Tom Hanks.

The actor was incredible, and he made you feel content while you were watching him. You had watched all over his work, multiple times, and you respected him immensely. He was your favourite actor, and an idol you looked up to.

You were, however, much to shy to go and introduce yourself. You were a member of the Avengers, a highly skilled, Hydra changed agent but meeting your favourite actor? You couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You don’t know why the thought of meeting him shook you to the core, maybe because, in your mind, he was so pure and so good, far away from the dangers of your life, that you didn’t want to taint that by introduction yourself.

Bucky, however, clearly didn’t think you should miss out on the opportunity to meet your idol. When you heard him say your name ten minutes later, you turned to find him standing there with the man himself.

“Tom, this is-” Bucky began to introduce you with a small smirk.

“Y/N, yes” Mr Hanks interrupted with a nod. “I’m a huge fan, I’ve seen you in action on the news. Absolutely incredible.”

“Oh, erm, wow, erm, that, I-I, wow” you stammered, completely star struck.

“Y/N’s a huge fan of your work, Tom” Bucky informed him.

“Oh, so we have a mutual appreciation of each other” he chucked, gently patting your arm.

“It’s an honour to meet you, Mr Hanks” you finally found your words, your cheeks heating up.

“I could say the same” he assured you with a smile. “Bucky was just talking about you and I just had to get him to introduce us. As I said, I saw the work you’ve done on the news. Your saving of those children in Cambodia… Its honestly inspiring.”

Your heart was in your throat for the next ten minutes while you spoke with your idol, who actually said that you were his. To know someone you looked up to regarded you with so much respect, it made you appreciate the man even more.

When a gala photographer asked to take your picture with Bucky and Tom, who had insisted you call him that, you couldn’t stop smiling. And the next day, when Bucky gave you a copy of the framed photograph, it was if the smile would never leave your face.

December

Your birthday passed in a blur of happiness and excitement. The day seemed so long, and yet so short. You’d entered the kitchen to a wonderful breakfast, where you, of course, sat between to of your friends and avoided the corners, as per tradition.

Natasha gently took hold of your ear, tugging it and saying the traditional; “Rasti - ne bud’ laphoy [Grow up – don’t be noodles.]”

The presents were wonderful. Natasha had brought you a new pair of black heels with, of course, a floral pattern. Wanda and Vision got you a beautiful jumpsuit to match which you couldn’t wait to try on. Steve and Sam had teamed up to buy you a beautiful charm bracelet with a beautiful Avenger’s charm and a charm of St. Basil’s Cathedral. Tony and Pepper got you a complete copy of the collection edition of all of Tom Hank’s work. Bucky had brought you a beautiful silver sunflower charm for your bracelet and, later, gave you a small collection of sharp throwing knives.

You loved all your gifts, but the throwing knives made you tingle. You had spoken to Bucky weeks ago about them, telling him that you had seen a beautiful collection in a store over the other side of town. And from your limited description of them, he had found them and got them you.

You couldn’t stop yourself when he gave them to you and had automatically thrown your arms around his shoulders. He had frozen at your abrupt action, seeming shocked. As you moved to pull away, his arms came around your waist. His metal arm was a heavy weight against your back but also incredibly light and gentle as he didn’t want to harm you.

His manly scent of mint, the outdoors and just pure Bucky filled your nose and made your eyes clench shut. He smelled amazing, it was like your nose was clear for the first time and your first breathe was full of him. It awoke your senses and made you tingle as he took over your mind.

You could have sworn there was a light pink tint to his cheeks when you pulled away, but you couldn’t be sure.

It was an incredibly thoughtful gift and you had been quick to cover the blades in toxins which would render a person unconscious. Throughout your training, you had always favoured small blades which include the small throwing knives. They seemed to work best with your abilities.

Throughout December, you noticed a subtle change in Bucky. Though he tried to seem casual about it, it was obviously to you. You were completely in-tune with everything he did, and when it involved you, you were even more hyper aware.

Bucky touched you more.

On movie nights, he would always make sure to sit next to you. Slowly, throughout the film, he’d relax more and more and then, by about half-way through, his arm would be pressed against yours. Sometimes his knee would bump against yours too. When passing by you, he would press his hand gently against the small of your back, his fingers trailing the skin. Rather than asking you to move when he wanted to get to a cupboard above you in the kitchen, his chest nearly pressed flush against your back as he leant to retrieve what he wanted.

Once, he had even offered you his arm when you were both making your way to the sanctuary together.

If it was anyone else who did these things, you would think nothing of it. However, it’s Bucky. Bucky had never been touchy-feely with you. Before, he would touch you only when necessary but that had obviously changed. It wasn’t a change which translated to the rest of the team either. He still avoided physical contact with them when he could, bar Steve.

You didn’t want to let yourself read too much into the implications of his actions. You didn’t want to wonder if he was doing it because he was perhaps interested in you, because that would lead you down a dangerous path. If you allowed yourself to believe that he did, and then it turns out you’re wrong… No, you would just ignore it.

Your first Christmas with the Avengers didn’t go to plan.

You noticed the new presence in your room straight away. As soon as the doorknob had turned, you were roused from your sleep and your hand had stealth moved to the knife under your pillow. When the hand touched your shoulder, you quickly rolled over, bring the knife up and towards the persons throat.

Your wrist was caught in a strong grip and was twisted to the side. It wasn’t enough to make you drop the knife, but it stopped it from hitting the persons throat. You sighed at the person standing in front of you, releasing the tension in your arm as a sign of you posing no more of a threat.

“If you wanted to get into bed with me, you just had to ask” you teased, pushing yourself to a sitting position.

“Maybe I’ll join you later” Natasha replied. “Get up and suited. There’s been an explosion in Kecskemét.”

“Hungary. What happened?” you asked, getting out of bed and moving to grab your suit from the wardrobe.

“We’re being briefed on the jet” she left the room, most likely to wake the others up.

You changed quickly, pulling on the tight, dark green body suit. You strapped your gun holster to your left thigh, securing the weapon and then attaching additional ammo to your utility belt. You tightly strapped your throwing knives to your right thigh where you’d be able to grab them quickly. A combat knife was strapped against your right ankle, and you put the comms device in your right ear before leaving for the jet.

On the twenty-fourth of December, at nine-twenty-eight in the morning, local time, an explosion went off in the town centre of Kecskemét. Fifteen people were killed in the explosion with a further two-hundred and seven injured.

From there, it was reported that three different groups were making their way throughout the city armed with heavy weaponry. They were executing people indiscriminately. Men, women, children… babies.

The Avenger’s had been called as soon as the explosion had occurred, with the team on the jet and departing the compound with thirty minutes. The Hungarian army had been deployed to the city, but it was soon clear that they were not equipped to the weaponry that was being used against them.

On a large screen on the quinjet, Tony played a video from the streets of Kecskemét. While the camera was shaky, the image was clear to make out. Bodies littered the floor; buildings were crumbled, and dust settled over the streets. A group of men stood at the end of the road, one pointing off to the side as he spoke, gesturing around himself.

Tony froze the footage, zooming in on the weapon in the terrorist’s hands. It was large and bulky, made with thick metal and emitting a glowing blue-purple light. You leaned forward slightly, your eyes narrowing as you took in the sight. You had never seen such a weapon before. Being part of Hydra, you recognised nearly every weapon known to man, and knew how to wield most of them. However, you couldn’t recognise this one.

“That’s modified Chitauri weaponry” Natasha observed. “How did they get that, I thought we got it all?”

“well, obviously we didn’t” Tony rolled his eyes, shutting off the record.

“I’ve never heard of Chitauri weaponry before” you said, looking between the two of them. “And something with this much power… Hydra would have trained us with it. Where is it from?”

“A few years ago, twenty-twelve, Loki tried to invade Earth” Steve began to explain. You nodded in understanding, remembering the team mentioning it happening but you had never known the names of the aliens which stood with the God of Mischief. “A section of New York was destroyed due to the Chitauri army which aided Loki. We thought we had collected it all but then there was underground trading of the weapons in Queens. Peter stopped that. Obviously, the trading of the weapons expanded world-wide.”

“That was Loki-Loki by the way” Tony injected, raising an eyebrow at you. Out of the whole team, he was the one who objected against your… ‘friendship’ the most with the man. “You know, your little bestie.”

“I never said he was a good man” you defended. “However, he treats me well and I shall treat him with the same respect.”

“Yeah, really?” he asked, both eyebrows raised now, and his arms crossed over his chest. “And when tries to make a move on Earth again?”

“Firstly, we don’t know if he would do that” you argued. “He may be a bad person, but he’s not stupid. Secondly, I would gladly help to stop him. He may be a friend but that doesn’t get him special treatment.”

The quinjet cut the ten-hour journey to just over four hours, and it wasn’t long until you were landing just outside of Kecskemét. You were quickly split into three teams consisting of Wanda, Natasha and Clint, then Vision, Sam and Tony, and finally you with Steve and Bucky. After a round of ‘Good luck’ nods, everyone left to their assigned area.

“Y/N, I want you watching out for any civilians. You see any, you get them out. Watch the buildings, make sure none of them come down on us” Steve ordered as your group headed for your designated zone. “Bucky and I’ll take down the assailants.”

“Ah, so you’ve got the easy job” you joke, pushing a stray strand of hair back. “It okay, I get, you’re getting old.”

“Pft,” Bucky snorted, rolling his eyes. “I’m still in my prime, its that punk that’s on his way out. Dinosaur.”

“You’re still older than me” Steve argued.

“Don’t worry boys, I’ll visit you both in your care homes when we get back” you assured them.

It didn’t take you long to reach the infiltrated area. Burning cars lined the streets, shops broken into with glass littering the street. A handful of people lay on the sidewalk, all on their tummy and went you bent to check for a pulse, there was nothing.

You were about to turn a corner when you quickly reached out, grabbing the two super soldiers by their arms and pulling them back. You could feel it through the ground. The vibrations hummed into the floor, travelling to you. You could feel the movement of people walking on the ground, sending you clear information of what was around the corner.

“Seven assailants. Two, far west. Three, east. One, front north. Two, south west” You reported, reading the vibrations of their footsteps. “Nine civilians in the building three ahead of them, east side.”

“Circle round the side, go in from the back” Steve told you.

“Got it” you nodded, turning to go back the way you came.

As you pass him, Bucky grasps hold of your hand. He holds your hand for a fraction of a second, his eyes meeting yours. There worry in stormy eyes, but he quickly hides it as he gives you a nod, gently squeezing your hand before letting you go. You give him a small before continuing on with your task.

You run up the road directly besides the one with the assailants. It takes you less than a minute to reach the house which sits behind the building containing the civilians. Bringing your knee up and to your chest, you aim your kick to land directly besides the lock. Within two kicks, the door is down and you’re rushing inside.

You run to the top of the building, on the far-left side. The room you enter into is small, which boxes piled three-high. The boxes are full, nearly bringing with metal pots, ornaments and clothes. Taking care to move the items to restrict damage to them was not an option, you had to get the civilian out quickly.

The wooden floor of the room split in half, bowing downwards, and allowing the boxes to fall into the room below. The floor fixed itself within moments, the crack sealing over and leaving no trace of having been there. The wall separating you from the other building began to break. Bricks crumbled outwards, plaster falling with a swoosh of dust as a hole began to form.

People who had previously been cowering against the wall quickly move away, frightened gasps leaving them as they watched the wall crumble. The terrified voices of a woman filled your ears and you hurried to assure them in their native language.

“Ne fuss, itt vagyok, hogy seítsek. Az utcán vannak olyan férfiak, akik ártani akarnak neked [Don’t run, I’m here to help. There are men on the streets below who wish to harm you]” You speak, holding your hands up to show you meant no harm. “Kérem. Ki tudok hozni innen. Gyere velem. [Please. I can get you out of here. Come with me.]”

“Hemlock” one of the children say, recognising you. He tugged on his mother’s sleeve, pointing at you again and repeating your code name, the name civilians knew you by.

“Avenger” the woman realises, recognising you after her sons prompting. She turns to hurriedly inform the rest of the party, telling them you were part of the ‘superhero’ group and had come to save them.

It was still strange to hear someone refer to you as a hero. You had never considered yourself to be heroic, actually, you had often thought yourself to be the opposite. You were a product of experimentation by a terrorist group, who made you into a weapon. You had the power to crumble things to the ground, you could wipe out a city with a single thought.

Of course, you wouldn’t do that, but you still had the ability to do it.

In the months that you had been part of the Avengers, you had saved over a dozen lives. Still, you didn’t believe that saving someone made you heroic. Well, that was a hypocritical statement. You considered Steve a hero, Bucky a hero, Natasha, Peter and Wanda too. Tony, Sam, Clint and Vision, they were all heroes. For some reason, that just didn’t translate over to you.

You waved the civilians through the wall before quickly repairing it. You instruct them to remain quiet before quickly leading them to the street below. Before opening the front door, you pause and take note of the roads between you and safety. The streets between the house and the safety of the Hungarian law enforcement were clear.

“Kövesse a virágokat, ők a rendõrséghez vezetnek [Follow the flowers, they’ll lead you to the police]” you instruct them.

You opened the front door and led them out. On the floor, in a straight line, was a of flowers going down the street and around the corner. You had created the path of flowers to guide them to safety, knowing that you couldn’t go with them. You had to go and watch your teams back.

“Köszönöm [Thank you]” one of the women said, squeezing your hand.

“Megy [Go]” you encouraged, nodding after the others.

She gave your hand a final squeeze before hurrying after the other.

You ran to the end of the street, quickly making your way to the road where you knew Steve and Bucky were squaring off against the assailants. Rounding the corner, you see three of them on the ground, with the others attacking the super soldiers.

An assailant aimed their weapon at Steve, shooting it in rapid succession as he held up his shield to defend himself. You lifted your arm up, pointing at him as you concentrated on the assailant’s feet. Vines quickly wrapped around his right leg and he was pulled off balance. The sudden change in stance loosened his grip on his weapon and stopped him from firing, allowing Steve a moment of reprieve where he could throw his arm out, knocking the man unconscious.

Your attention turned to Bucky, who was fighting two assailants at once. He grabbed the thrown fist of one in his metal hand, twisting a throwing a kick into the chest of the other man. His flesh hand fisted, knocking the first man backwards.

It was at that moment you realised something was wrong. There were four assailants on the floor, with Bucky fighting two and Steve moving to remove the seemingly unconscious men’s weapons; knowing that Bucky had his situation under control. That made a total of six, there was one missing.

Strong vibrations pushed through the floor behind you and you quickly turned to see the final assailant heading for you. He brought his hand, holding a silver combat knife, down towards your chest. You right arm crossed over your body before moving up and to the right, pushing the knife to the side. Your hand flipped over, grabbing his wrist as you crouched and slid under his arm, you leg darting out to swipe at his ankle. As his leg went from under him, you twisted his arm behind his back and pushed him to the ground using his own momentum from falling. You grabbed his dropped knife and stepped off him, allowing the vines to climb over him and hold him down.

When you stand up, you notice Bucky watching you. His eyes are intense, watching as you push the hair out of your eyes and step away from the man, flipping the knife over in your hand. Walking over to where he stands with Steve, you give him a small smile before focusing on the Capitan.

“All seven down, civilians are with law enforcement now” you confirm.

“We’ll have to take these weapons back to the states” Steve examines one of the weapons in his hands with distaste.

“We’ll need to take a few members back too” Bucky says. “Need to speak to the others, find out who the top guys are.”

“Mm” Steve agrees before reaching to activate his comms. “I’ll get us a van to transfer these guys.”

It took a further day to ensure all the terrorists were captured, the team wanting to be certain that all members had been flushed out of hiding and another attack wouldn’t happen after you all left. The younger members of the group squealed quickly, and it was only a matter of hours before you found out who the leaders were and they were flown back to America for questioning, with the rest being taken into custody by Hungarian law enforcement.

The team stayed in Kecskemét for a further three days to help with aid towards the injured city. While the team’s actions varied, you focused on repairing the damaged structures of the city. Any cracks, holes, or chips were repaired with buildings foundations made stronger. You ensured that every building was to high standards you held, meaning that no one would be getting hurt any time soon.

By the time you all arrived home, no one felt like celebrating Christmas. You were all tried from the long four days in Europe and just wanted to collapse into bed. Presents were exchanged, but there were no celebrations, just a lazy family dinner of take-out food.

January

You had a new nickname to add to your extensive list, Doll. You hadn’t noticed it at first but after the first few times, you realised that was the only nickname that Bucky used for you. He only ever referred to you by your name, or by ‘Doll’, never ‘Ivy’, ‘Petal’, ‘Pet’ or anything else.

He only used the nickname in private, when no one else was around. Or he would lean beside you and whisper it in your ear.

“Hey, Doll” he greets when you push through the branchlets of the willow tree.

“Hi, Buck” you return, moving to sit beside him. You accept the cup of coffee, curing your hands around the plastic cup from the thermos. You sipped at the steaming drink, letting it warm you up from the inside. “Thank you. Mm, you added caramel.”

He gave you a small smile and a nod, turning back towards the pond in front of you. “You liked it last time.”

“Oh Buck” you grin, nudging him playfully. “You’re going sweet on me.”

“Don’t know why, you’re a pain in my ass” he teases but you notice his cheeks are tinted pink.

“A pain in your ass?” you laugh, shaking your head. “I grew sunflowers for you, made sure there were plenty of plants for your little bunny friends. I have your back all the time, not just on missions. Remember when Sam and Tony were ganging up on you because of Sophie? I got them to back off. What about when you realised, you’d never tried fajitas? Who cooked them for you? Me. Who saves you plyushka? Me. Oh, and what about-”

“Okay, okay!” he interrupts with a small laugh, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’m the pain in the ass.”

“Yeah, you are” you agreed. “You’re lucky that I like you Bucky, or you’d be in trouble.”

February

“I’m don’t know about this” Bucky’s voice reaches your ears as you walk towards the kitchen, low and unsure.

“Do you or do you not like her?” Sam asks and it quiet for a moment before he continues. “That tell the woman! We all know she’s sweet on you.”

“She’s pro’lly just being nice” Bucky disagrees.

“Buck… she’s not like that with other people” Steve’s voice joins the mix.

Your heart stops for a second, who were they on about? Bucky had a crush on someone, who? By the sounds of it, it was someone who was nice to him. Then again, who wasn’t nice to Bucky. He was like a little puppy which the team secretly adored.

You knew it wasn’t Wanda, she was happily with Vision.

It could be Natasha. She had always had a close friendship with Bucky, sharing experiences which were eerily similar, and he had even shot her once, which she was completely okay with. It was a strange friendship, you admit, but it was clear that they favoured one another. They had silent conversations with just a shared look and seemed to be completely in sync when on missions.

It could be Sophie, from the third floor. She was sweet on Bucky; you knew that for sure. She had brought him coffee, invited him to see a movie and made him baked good. You had thought, however, that Bucky wasn’t interested in the girl. Maybe you were wrong, maybe he did like her.

A part of your mind whispered that it could be you, but you quickly dismissed it. Bucky had never shown any interest towards you that wasn’t platonic.

“So, what, I just ask her out?” Bucky asks.

“Ooh, who are you asking out, Bucky?” you force a smile onto your face as you walk into the kitchen.

“Well-” Sam begins, his normal shit-eating grin on his face.

“No one” Bucky is quick to interrupt, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink.

“Oh, come on! Sam and Steve know, why can’t I?” you pouted, reaching for a glass.

“You’re different. You’re not one of the guys or anything, you’re… you” he shrugged.

Your shoulders deflated at the comment and you realised it was true. You were just Y/N, you weren’t one of ‘them’. You had thought that you and Bucky had gotten closer but obviously that assumption had been wrong. You weren’t close enough for him to talk to you about stuff like that, his words had made it obvious that he didn’t want to talk to you about it just because you were a girl. He didn’t want to talk to you about it because you were Y/N.

“Oh” you nodded quietly. You filled your glass with water and walked back to the door. “I get it, sorry for asking.”

“Y/N, that’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean it like that” he rushes to say.

You held up your hand to stop him, giving a smile which probably looked more like a grimace. “Its fine, Barnes, don’t worry. I get it. I’m sorry for asking.”

You left the room quickly, retreating back to your room and crawling under your duvet. You’d never called him by his surname before. You usually referred to him as Bucky, or Buck, and, when you were feeling particularly playful, sometimes ‘sir’. If your tone didn’t show that he had hurt your feelings, your use of his surname would definitely make him aware.

It felt like hours later when there was a knock on your bedroom door. With a groan, you pull yourself out of bed and open the door. On the other side, Bucky is standing with his hands in his pockets, slightly hunched and looking as if he was trying to appear smaller. He rolled him lips into his mouth, his voice quiet as he asked if he could come in.

Closing the door behind him, you returned back to your bed, pulling one of your pillows into your lap as he stood in the middle of your room. He looked around himself, taking note of the loveseat, which was covered with a fluffy blanket, your laptop balanced on the arm. Your wardrobe door was slightly agar and had a scarf hanging over it.

“I’m sorry for what I said” he apologies again, avoiding looking at you.

“It’s fine, I shouldn’t have been nosey” you shrug.

“No, you don’t understand” he sighs, his metal hand brushing the hair back from his face. “I didn’t want to tell you because… because…”

“Because I’m me, I get it” you assure. “I’m the person you sit and look at flowers with, I’m not the person you talk to about your crushes.”

“No, you’re not” he agrees.

You nod your head, biting your lip as your eyes stings. Your chest aches, as if a hole had been carved through it. The thing that hurt you wasn’t that Bucky liked someone else, it was that he didn’t consider you a close enough friend to want to tell you.

You had considered him one of your closest friends. You told him your secrets, told him of your desires to go back to Russia one day and see your home city. Of wanting to visit places you hadn’t gotten a chance to because of you were hiding before. You had told him that you were scared that one day, Hydra would find you again; something you hadn’t even told Wanda or Nat. He knew of your secret love to goad Tony into an argument by speaking in a language he didn’t understand. And he knew so much more than that.

And yet he didn’t want to tell you this. You knew it was ridiculous to be hurt by something like this, it was small and trivial, but you couldn’t help your feelings. Your feelings were valid though. The person you trusted, didn’t trust you in return. It was, sad to say, a fact which you would have to accept.

“You’re the person I have a crush on” Bucky finishes, his voice small as he finally looks at you.

His expression is one of obvious worry. His blue eyes are wide and doe-like, watching you with nerves as you try to come to terms with his confession. He’s rolling his lips into his mouth, waiting for your reaction which he no doubt expected to be negative.

“You… what?” you ask, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Me? I’m the person who you have a crush on? Why would it be me?”

“Why wouldn’t it be you, doll?” he snorts, giving a small shake of his head. “You’re amazing. You grew my favourite flowers for me, without hardly knowing me. You save my seat on the sofa during every movie night because you know that I like being on the end. You make sure there are toffees in the snack draw for me, and you hide the Starbursts from Tony and Clint for me… You took me to Starbucks and Walmart for the first time, and you helped me hide from the woman in Target. You trimmed my hair when I got too nervous about the hairdresser and you sit with me when I need my arm looked at. You watch out for me on missions and when we get back, you always bake me something to cheer me up…”

He moves to crouch before you, taking your hand in his. Your heart is beating wildly in your chest, likes its about to break through your rib cage. You couldn’t believe what he was saying. Bucky Barnes had a crush on you. Your heart was souring, your mind floating through the clouds.

“You’re sweet on me, doll, but I’m just as sweet on you” he tells you. “It’s okay, though, if you don’t feel the same. I don’t expect you too. I know that its pro’lly just you being nice. You’re always nice, nice to everyone… but… I just want you to know, it’s you that I like, and I’ve liked you for a long time.”

One of your hands left his, moving to cover your mouth as you laughed in disbelief. The tears in your eyes changed from those of hurt to those of pure joy. Bucky liked you, he wanted you. You couldn’t believe it. You hadn’t allowed yourself to believe that this moment could ever happen, it was never a real possibility in your mind. And yet here he was, professing his feelings for you.

“I do” you assure him, pulling your hand away from your face so that he could see your smile. “I do like you!”

“Really?” his eyes light up, a grin quickly spreading over his face.

“Of course,” you nod, cupping his face. “You’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met, Bucky, how could I not? You make me feel things that I never thought were possible. Being around you, I feel happy, I feel free. I can’t even put into words how much you mean to me.”

By the time you’ve finished speaking, his hands are gently cupping your face, his thumbs softly tracing your cheeks. You could see the slightly tears in his eyes, and his smile is wide and happy. It’s as if he’s just heard everything he has ever wanted to hear, as if you had said the magic words.

His eyes flicker from your own, down to your lip and then back to your eyes. You give a small nod, barely moving your head but he catches the movement and he leans him.

When his lips touch yours, your breath leaves your body in a pleasured sigh. While his lips are soft, their a little chapped from where he has bit them due to his nerves. They were gentle against yours, the pressure light as he didn’t want to push you too far.

You were on top of the world, your heart beating erratically as you leaned into the kiss, your fingers tracing his stubble. You had never thought that kissing Bucky would be like this. It was like a set of fireworks were going off in your chest, and you were more than happy with it.

“Does this mean I’m your girl?” you ask him, smiling when you’ve pulled back from the kiss.

“My best girl” he confirms, pulling your lips back to his.

And you went happily.

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