#sigh i need to do something for december to cap off the year

[goldensunset]

in loving memory of my creative energy

[marvel-and-mischief]

❄️ December Writing Challenge ❄️

Day 24. Ice Storm

Pairing: Din Djarin x GN!Reader Words: 777 Warnings: none

December Writing Challenge masterlist

You knew you were safe with Din. His expert knowledge combined with years of bounty hunting experience meant that whatever situation you were in you could always rely on Din to get you safely out of it. 

Even now, with your back firmly turned away from your partner, stubbornly refusing to forgive him for his error in judgement, you knew you’d be okay in the end. 

“This planet is known for its ice storms.”

“Yet you still risked the layover.”

“We needed fuel.”

“We need to get back to Peli or she’ll never give Grogu back to us.”

Din chuckles in agreement. You glance over your shoulder to see his helmet turned in your direction. You quickly look away. 

“You’re mad. I understand. The locals are experts at getting the runways clear for takeoff. We’ll be able to leave in the morning.”

Being stuck wasn’t what you were worried about. It was being stuck with Din in one room because that’s all that was left in town. How was he going to eat if he couldn’t take his helmet off? And where were you both going to sleep? You scan the room from your perch on the bed; one circular window illuminates Din sitting at the foldaway table and chair in the opposite corner, a door that opens up into a tiny refresher, and a bedside table with a lamp. That is it. And to think you had to pay double the rate because there’s two of you. 

“I’m not mad,” you sigh, turning your body to face his, looking anywhere but in his direction. You weren’t mad, you were inconvenienced and that was a whole other emotion. You’d been travelling with Din long enough to have a great professional relationship, but on a personal level? Din was closed off, perhaps encouraged by the beskar heavy armour he wore at all times. Seeing him interact with Grogu gave you a sense of the kind of person he is; kind, protective, paternal. But personal information had never been volunteered. So the situation you found yourselves in? Awkward. 

“Get some sleep.”

“What about you?”

“I’m fine.”

“That’s not-.” You huff, exasperated at Din’s selfless suggestion. “If I go to sleep will you eat something?” Din crosses his arms over his chest plate. “Drink something at least?” He remains unmoving. “So you’ll just sit there and watch me sleep?”

“No.” Din pauses. You wonder what expression resides under that helmet of his. Is he annoyed? Confused? Curious as to why you care so much? You’re beginning to ask yourself that same question. “I will go to sleep.”

The chair Din is sat in leans back against the wall, his feet are planted flat and legs set wide. It’s not a comfortable position but you think he’s probably slept like this before. 

“Fine,” you mumble, propping up the pillows how you like them and moving to lie on your side. You can’t see Din, and you prefer it that way because you don’t want him to notice the deep set frown and the way you’re biting frustratingly at your lips. You’re caring too much. You can’t be caring this much for a man who doesn’t show you an ounce of emotion. Nor takes your worries seriously. 

You try to steady your breathing and clear your mind but nothing you do lets you fall asleep. You think about taking a shower when you hear it. A noise you’ve only ever heard of when you’re guarding a room to give Din privacy. The click and swoosh of metal moving against hinges, then the clink of a helmet resting on the table. Unsure whether he’s going to move around the room you freeze, gripping the scrunched up bed sheets and shutting your eyes tightly. 

Whatever Din’s doing he’s doing it slowly, cautiously, ensuring he doesn’t startle you into looking at him. You think about reassuring him, by letting him know you’re awake but won’t look when you hear a cap unscrew and then the glug of liquid as he takes a drink out of his flask. You lie there, unable to stop yourself from listening to every sound he makes; screwing the cap back on, his real breaths without the helmet on, gloved fingers scratching stubble, then picking up his helmet and slotting it back into place. 

It makes you sad to think it’s probably the closest you will get to the man inside the armour. But it’s enough to know he trusts you this way. 

Having been tense throughout, you finally relax and eventually fall into a restful sleep with the knowledge that you are both going to be okay in the morning. 

[malk1ns]

december twenty-six: rosy cheeks

Every year, Sidney rounds up everyone who’s stayed in town for the Christmas pause and heads out to a few of the retirement and assisted living communities around Pittsburgh to help shovel out snow on the walkways.

It’s not something the team is officially involved in; there are no cameras, no features on Twitter or Instagram to document the time spent, and Sidney likes it that way. He appreciates having some of their charitable endeavors highlighted, because it draws more attention and can lead to more donations and money from the community at large, but there’s a part of him that feels a little like it sounds like he’s begging for attention and praise for being a decent person.

By the amount of guys who willingly come along with him, it’s not an uncommon feeling.

They usually divide up into teams, with each group heading to a different facility. Sidney considered manipulating the lists to put Geno with his group, but they’ve always had one of the captains act as unofficial team leader, and it would be selfish to change that just because Sidney thinks Geno’s very cute when he’s all bundled up and pushing a shovel around.

Everyone parks at the practice rink to gather up shovels and pet-safe ice melt before they pile into vans Sid’s rented and scatter off to their assignments. Sometimes they all head to a bar after as a team, but this year the snow had been bad enough that most of the guys are eager to head straight home, and soon it’s only Sidney, Geno, and Kris left, putting away the equipment and chatting about their plans for the rest of their time off.

“No,” Kris says firmly, tossing his last shovel to the back of the equipment shed. Sidney sighs and follows it to hang it up properly. “If you do not come for dinner this break, Catherine will be very unhappy. She will come to practice and yell at you again. You both will come to my house tomorrow. Bring wine.”

“Bossy,” Geno mutters from where he’s sitting cross-legged on the floor of the shed, carefully combining half-empty containers of ice melt into one. “Yes, fine, we’re come.”

Sidney swears as one of the shovels he’d thought was leaning securely against the wall tilts over and knocks another three down with it. “Yeah, okay,” he relents. “If you’re sure it’s not too much work.”

“Good,” Kris says severely. “I will see you tomorrow. Don’t be late, Geno.”

“Hey, what the fuck—where are you going!” Sidney calls, but it’s too late—Kris is already gone, and by the time Sidney gets to the door of the shed, he’s practically sprinting to his car.

Behind him, Geno laughs. “He’s never help clean,” he says fondly, screwing the cap on the now-full container of ice melt and getting to his feet with a groan as his knees crack. “Come on, let’s do shovels and then we go home. It’s too fucking cold out today.”

“I guess it’s pretty windy out, yeah,” Sidney allows, following Geno back. “This shouldn’t take long, I just need to get them hung up on these hooks.”

“Too short, no wonder they’re all fall,” Geno says, grabbing the shovel from Sidney’s hands and easily hooking it into place.

“Fuck off,” Sidney says cheerfully, watching as Geno methodically moves down the row of leaning shovels. The shed is still bitterly cold even though it’s protected from the wind, and Geno’s cheeks and nose are pink. With his hair curling out from under the edges of his beanie, he looks like he did at their first Winter Classic, the fun one, before he’d started encasing himself in every layer available for outdoor games. “You should have worn a scarf or something.”

“Forgot,” Geno grunts, carefully rotating the last shovel and finally getting it to catch. “There, done. Maybe next year I’m go somewhere with beach for break. You come with—we’re leave Kris to do all cleaning and planning for this.”

He’s making a joke, of course, but Sidney thinks about it—a long weekend somewhere warm, Geno in those little swim trunks that give him tan lines way up his thighs. “That sounds nice,” he says, and Geno swivels to look at him, eyebrows shooting up.

“You’re never want to go to beach,” he says accusingly, crossing his arms. “You always say, oh no, it’s so nice in snow and cold, must have all seasons, I’m never go for break.”

Sidney shrugs. “It might be fun,” he says. “I mean, you have that condo in Miami, and I’ve never seen it—it might be nice to get away and stay there for a little.”

“You’re be serious?” Geno says hesitantly. “Next year I invite, you’re really come?”

“Yeah,” Sidney says. His face feels warm under the weight of Geno’s skeptical attention—their cheeks must be equally red by now. “Yeah, why not? The snow will always be here when we get back. My parents can go visit Taylor instead or something.”

Geno purses his lips. “Maybe my second bedroom isn’t done,” he says, a hint of challenge in his voice. “Like, I’m redoing over summer but it’s not finished by next Christmas.”

“Maybe we won’t need a second bedroom,” Sidney says, winking and slipping out of the shed before Geno can reply.

a series of ficlets based on the prompts in this post—with a few added and modified to suit my purposes :)

december one: A lends mittens to B even though they are way too big but B is blissfully happy and doesn’t plan on giving them back

Sid’s insistence on being the most Canadian Canadian to ever live is gonna kill him one day, Zhenya thinks, watching idly from the bus as Sid subtly flexes his bare fingers after pocketing his sharpie, shifting back and forth on his feet and gamely making conversation with the fans who’d found where their bus was parked at the arena and asked for autographs.

They’d hit the jackpot—everyone was in a good mood after the win, so Jason had the group of three stand near the bus door, and as the team filed in they all paused to sign something, endure a little small talk, and maybe take a picture or two. Even Zhenya had ducked down and done his best to smile naturally for a selfie, trying not to grimace even though his knee was aching at having to crouch so low to get in the frame.

Sid, though. Sid had been last in line as always, darting outside with his curls still wet against his jacket collar, and of course he’d been stuck with the brunt of the fan adoration—and he didn’t have on gloves.

Finally, Sully leans out of the bus door with a smile Zhenya knows is as fake as Sid’s jawline, saying something Zhenya can’t quite make out; whatever it is, the fans disperse, and Sid finally gets on the bus, scowling at the sarcastic round of applause Zhenya leads.

“Fuck you all, sorry for being nice,” he snaps, which is weak even for Sid.

He makes his way unsteadily down the bus aisle, holding onto the seat backs as the bus rumbles into motion; a particularly strong jolt as they go over a speed bump almost sends him toppling into Zhenya’s lap.

Zhenya steadies him, but instead of leveraging him back into the aisle, tugs him down further, scooting over to the window and pushing Sid down into the aisle seat.

“Hey,” Sid protests, but it’s perfunctory, and as soon as Zhenya pulls his hands back Sid relaxes into the seat, curling up a little into himself.

Zhenya opens his mouth, a chirp about how Sid being too bottom-heavy to be so clumsy at the tip of his tongue, but he stops, eyeing Sid’s trembling hands with disapproval.

“Sid,” he scolds, hooking his foot around the strap of his bag and tugging it out from under the seat in front of him, “where gloves? Hair all wet, no hat, no gloves—you gonna freeze. Not smart.” He bends down, splaying his knees out and knocking into Sid’s, pawing through his bag until he finds his own gloves. “Here, put. Stupid, Sid.” He shakes the gloves in front of Sid’s face.

Sid wrinkles his nose and snatches them away from Zhenya, dropping one in his lap and examining the other. “I was fine, G, stop fussing, you’re turning into your mom. It’s warm in here anyway.”

“Put,” Zhenya insists, staring down his nose at Sid until Sid slips the glove on with an aggrieved sigh, tugging it as far down his wrist as he can.

He wiggles his fingers at Zhenya, then jabs his hand into the seat back in front of him. The material collapses until his fingertips hit the seat. “Jesus, your hands are big,” Sid observes.

Zhenya’s glad the bus is warm and he’s still got his coat on—an easy way to explain the sudden rush of heat to his face. Because that’s—Sid doesn’t mean it that way, Zhenya knows that, but when he says it like that, with his voice all low and raspy from yelling during the game, looking at Zhenya from the corner of his eyes, it sounds like a come-on. Zhenya’s heard less blatant lines in the gay bars he sneaks away to sometimes.

Sid’s still looking at him. His cheeks are still pink and chapped from the chill outside, and his hair is curling as it dries. Zhenya swallows, forces himself to poke his tongue through his teeth. “No, is normal, you’re just smallest,” he says, jostling Sid with a sharp elbow.

Sid rocks away, then back into Zhenya’s side. “You can think that,” he says casually, working his bare hand into the other glove. “Thanks, G. I’ll give them back to you later.”

“Okay,” Zhenya says, looking out the window and trying to ignore Sid’s thigh pressed along his like a brand. Sid isn’t cold at all.

[kythed]

“teenage wasteland.” kuroo tetsurou x reader

4:08pm.

“yo,” kuroo says, opening the door quickly after you ring the bell, “you finally made it.” 

“what do you mean, finally?” you complain, kicking off your shoes and slipping inside. the dry heat of his family home’s living room assaults your bare face, a sharp contrast to the december frigidity outside. “you texted me like ten minutes ago.”

“felt like longer,” kuroo says with a crooked grin. “you want something to drink?” 

“water?”

“I kinda meant something stronger, but sure, water,” kuroo says, filling a glass at the kitchen sink. you furrow your brows.

“something stronger? I’m sorry, but last time I checked we were still underage,” you say, and kuroo laughs breathily — it’s almost a giggle, actually. for the first time since arriving, you notice an odd flush in his cheeks. “oh my god. are you drunk?”

“drunk?” kuroo gasps. “no, no. tipsy, yes. drunk, no.” 

“tetsurou,” you scold, reluctantly letting him pull you towards the hallway. “all those big, bad college boys can’t have been a very good influence on you.”

“I’ve had a stash of jack daniels hidden beneath my bed since sophomore year,” kuroo whispers conspiratorially. “those ‘big, bad college boys’ have nothing to do with it. speaking of which — you want some?” 

you shake your head vehemently and dig your heels into the carpet, realizing he’s trying to drag you into his bedroom. despite being kuroo tetsurou’s official best friend of a decade, you’ve never been inside his room before. you’ve never been inside any boy’s room before, actually — you’ve never been much of a rule breaker. 

(you suppose that’s why you and kuroo get along. you’re forever the straight-laced goody goody, and he’s forever the secretly bad, outwardly good honor roll kid.)

“I don’t drink,” you insist, and kuroo loops his arms around your neck. you stiffen. “and stop being so touchy. it’s freaking me out.”

“what?” kuroo says, feigning offense. “you don’t like my hugs?” 

“no!” you say, and he shoots you an exaggerated eye roll. “you’re being weird. I can probably count the number of times you’ve voluntarily hugged me on one hand.” 

kuroo ignores you, choosing to instead pick you up and toss you over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold. 

“kuroo tetsurou, you’d better quit it before I call your mother!” you pound on his back, a little taken aback to feel his shoulder muscles rippling under your palms as he staunchly marches you into his room. “I do not want to enter your disgusting cave of a room, you teenage garbage troll!”

“getting real creative with the insults there,” kuroo laughs, setting you down and backing up against the door to block you from running out. “come onnnnn. I thought we could play a game of monopoly or something. listen to the radio. finish the bottle before my mom comes home and whips my hide.”

you sigh and perch your hands on your hips. “so that’s why you invited me over.”

“no, no,” kuroo protests, crouching to pull a clear bottle of amber colored liquid out from beneath his bed. “I also just vastly enjoy your company.”

“why not just throw it out?” you ask, gingerly sitting on the edge of the bed. 

kuroo���s room is a lot neater than you imagined it would be — navy bedspread tightly tucked in at the corners, vinyl floor completely clear save for a small rug. his desk is probably the messiest part of the entire room, holding an old, chunky desktop that’s covered in post-its with smudged, scribbled notes, ranging from “email prof. miyazawa about missing grade” to “buy mom flowers to apologize for broken mug.” 

there are a couple posters on the wall, too, one for the japanese national volleyball team, and one for some punk-looking band dressed in an overabundance of leather, ripped denim, and hair feathers. 

“this shit was expensive,” kuroo says, gesturing to the bottle before screwing the cap off and taking a long draught. your eyes widen as he drinks down a quarter of the remaining liquid, his adam’s apple bobbing with each swallow. “I can’t let it go to waste.”

“I think you’ve probably had enough of that,” you say, gently twisting it from his hands. kuroo smiles angelically before coming to tower over you. 

“if you’re not gonna drink it, I will,” he says, reaching out to grasp the bottle’s neck. you hold onto it stubbornly.

“you’re clearly wasted, tetsu,” you say. “just let me throw it away.” 

“I may have a small drinking problem,” kuroo says, “but I’m sober enough to know I’m not about to throw away the fifty bucks I spent on that. give it.” 

“no!” 

“yes.”

“nooooo!”

“yes!” 

kuroo tries to wrench the bottle from you, and you spend a solid thirty seconds wiggling in his grasp before finally pulling it away. in an impulsive attempt to keep kuroo from getting even drunker, you bring the rim of the bottle to your lips and chug the rest of the whiskey.

kuroo’s eyes widen, and he guffaws loudly. “that was a lot of alcohol just now.”

you nod, wincing at the acrid taste, unwilling to swallow — the liquid is still swishing in your cheeks. you move to go spit it out in kuroo’s sink, but he grabs your arm.

“do not spit that out,” he warns. “that’s over two hours’ worth of minimum wage salary. I don’t work twenty hours a week in the wendy’s drive-thru just for you to flush it down the drain.” 

“mmmm,” you protest, breathing through your nose. “hrghhhh mmm mm mhm.”

“I have no idea what you’re trying to say,” kuroo says, obviously trying to stifle his laughter. 

you gesture wildly to your face, and then to the empty bottle, and then back to your face. 

for a moment, kuroo wrinkles his nose, and then slowly smoothes out his expression. a small smile stretches across his lips, and he steps close to you. you’re acutely aware of your personal bubble being popped, as well of the fact that he smells strongly of old spice and mango body wash. 

“I’ll do it then.”

“mm?” you squeak in confusion when he takes your chin in one hand and guides your face close to his. you’re not sure if you’re smelling the alcohol on his breath or tasting it on our own tongue. you’ve never been this physically close to your best friend in your life, and you can firmly say you’re absolutely petrified. you shake your head vehemently as he slowly leans down, tilting his head. 

“calm down,” he says quietly, and in spite of yourself, you do. “I’m just taking a drink.” 

then he presses his mouth to yours, and you freeze. oh, shit. 

kuroo wedges his tongue between your lips, forcing them open, and then he sucks the whiskey from your mouth, one hand keeping your jaw open while the other snakes around your waist. your eyes widen just as his close, almost as if he’s enjoying the kiss. slowly, you close yours too, letting yourself melt into him as he keeps kissing you even after swallowing the liquid. 

it lasts for a good ten seconds before you reluctantly pull away, letting your hands rest on his shoulders. he’s smiling, evidently very pleased with himself. 

“what the hell was that?” you say breathlessly, searching his face. 

“I was thirsty,” kuroo says nonchalantly. “and a little drunk. and you’re very pretty, as far as best friends go.” 

you feel like you should be offended, yet you can’t quite bring yourself to be. you’re definitely flustered, though, and a little embarrassed. (okay, a lot embarrassed.)

“I think, um, I think I should go,” you say, breaking eye contact. kuroo raises a hand to stop you, but you brush him off, bounding out of the room to grab your bag and keys from the kitchen counter. “we can talk about this later, okay? you need to go take a nap or something.”

“no, hey, wait —”

but you’re already out the door and in the car, jamming the key into ignition. you just kissed your best friend. or did you? does that count as a kiss? or was that just kuroo being stupid? your mind spins with useless speculations on the drive home, and as you sprawl out on your bed for an hour afterwards. it’s not until later that evening that you check your phone, greeted by a handful of social media notifications… and a text from kuroo.

with shaking hands, you swipe it open, face immediately splitting into a grin.

kuroo: sorry about that

kuroo: ok, not really

kuroo: I’m not that sorry

kuroo: cuz you’re a good kisser

kuroo: a really good kisser

you: you too

you wait for a moment as the three little dots on kuroo’s side pop up.

kuroo: thanks

kuroo: I was still kind of stupid tho

kuroo: my b

you: you regret it?

your fingers shake in suspense as you await his answer, feeling all the world like a lovestruck fifteen year old. you’re a little disgusted to find yourself suddenly crushing on kuroo tetsurou of all people, but what can you say? maybe falling for your best friend is a little cliche. maybe it’s a little overdone. maybe the fact that you kissed him with a mouthful of whiskey belongs in a cheesy teen movie, but you can’t help but find yourself delighted that it happened. 

kuroo: nope. not at all.

kuroo: not at all.

[oreosmilkshakes]

Mine; the sequel

Summary: The end of everything Pairing: The Winter Soldier!Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 11.4K Warnings: Violence, Endgame’s ending, character death,  A/N: This is the longest piece I have ever written and holy crap, it was tiring but worth it. Seriously. I’ll wait a little until I wanna write again. The sequel spans over CW, IW and Endgame so yall are in for a ride.   ED/N: Editor has gone to the Ether Realm (Written by author) Taglist: @igothroughphasesalot​ @paniniirae​ @winteroqers @felicityofbakerstreet​

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Two years. Two years was how long it took to hunt Bucky down after the events of HYDRA’s infiltration within S.H.I.E.L.D. . Y/N did not give up. She spent sleepless nights, using her contacts, satellite technology to find her soulmate but each time he appears, he disappears the next minute after. Even with Steve and Sam’s help, the job didn’t get easier.

After S.H.I.E.L.D.’s fall, a new power came in and that very same power thought it would be a good idea to control the Avengers through a series of words. Specifically, the Sokovia Accords after what happened in Lagos. Y/N knew it wasn’t Wanda’s fault. She was constantly with her best friend day and night, being her shoulder to cry on. Y/N pitied Wanda. She lost her brother to Ultron and now, people were dead due to an accident. Y/N was also there for Steve when he received the news that Peggy had passed on in her sleep. She attended her funeral, standing by the blonde super soldier throughout the entire event. Y/N knew how much Peggy meant to him. He was a man out of time after all. Y/N immediately pulled Steve in a tight hug after the coffin was sent for burial.

It was indeed dark days and darker ones were coming

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Y/N was requested by Everett Ross to accompany him and Sharon to greet Steve. She’s heard what had happened in Vienna and the whole explosion. Something big was going on. Y/N could feel it. So, as she walked towards the vans, one could imagine the surprise Y/N felt when she saw Bucky. Her eyes widened and so did his. Her jaw slacked a little, looking at Steve who gave her a subtle shake of his head. Everett Ross and Sharon Carter, along with the other German soldiers here don’t need to know Bucky and Y/N were soulmates.

(Gif credited to the owner)

Y/N’s heart was racing, Bucky’s too. Two years. Two long years of sleep deprivation and tears has finally brought Bucky back to her. She wanted to hug him, to feel him against her body, to touch every inch of his skin. However, seeing him caged like an animal broke her heart. Was it really Bucky that blew up the building and killed the king of Wakanda? It couldn’t be him. Y/N gulped, her eyes meeting with Bucky’s again as he was slowly transported away. She could see him flex his metal arm, as if trying to escape his prison so he could run to Y/N and be reunited. He has changed. Y/N could not see the same killer she saw back in 2014. However, he looked beefier and that made Y/N’s heart flutter. He was also tamer, calmer. Something like The Winter Soldier’s programming won’t go away easily, of course.

And Y/N was right.

Blackout. Steve looked around, all monitors had gone dark.

“Come on, guys, get me eyes on Barnes,” Everett spoke through his walkie-talkie. Bucky was left with a faceless man. Anything could go wrong.

Tony tapped on his ear.

“Friday, get me a source on that outage,” Something was wrong.

Sharon looked at both Steve, Sam, and Y/N. “Sub-level five, East Wing,” Without further delay, the trio hastily made their way to Bucky’s location.

Bucky turned to his supposed interrogator. “What the hell is this?”

“Why don’t we discuss your home? Not Romania. Certainly not Brooklyn, no,” Zemo dug into his bag, hand gripping the item most important to Bucky.

He pulled out The Red Book, holding it up for Bucky to see. “I mean your real home,”

Bucky’s eyes darken at the sight of the book. The very same book that was used by the Russian to control him like he was some dog.

Zemo removed his glasses, standing up with the book and a torch.

“Желание (Longing),” Something ticked in Bucky’s mind. The locks he had on The Winter Soldier was rattling, like a monster slamming itself against the heavy doors of its prison.

“No,” He whispered.

“Ржавый (Rusted),”

Bucky threw his head back. “Stop,” The door shook hard but not enough for The Winter Soldier to be released. Yet.

“Семнадцать (Seventeen),” Bucky clenched his metal fist. “Stop,” He growled. If, no, when, Zemo finishes those words, The Winter Soldier would be broken free and that scared Bucky. His soulmate was in the same facility as him and the chances of Bucky hurting his lover and everyone around her was high. Bucky’s breathing got heavy, growling under his breath as he tried to fight hard against his trigger words. Zemo looked up, eyes focused on Bucky in torment. “Рассвет (Daybreak),” Bucky screamed, four out of ten locks were broken now. He yanked his metal arm out, successfully breaking his cuff before moving to rip the cuff off his right arm.

“Печь (Furnace)”

Bucky grunted, moving to the door. His fists slammed against the reinforced door, grunting as he was losing to the locks on the prison.

“Девять (Nine),  Доброкачественный (Benign),” Zemo continued. Bucky’s metal fist slammed hard against the door, seven out of ten locks were broken now.

“Возвращение на родину (Homecoming), Один (One),” The cracks formed by Bucky’s hard punches grew bigger. He was feral once more, eyes wild and seeking freedom from his prison.

“Товарный вагон (Freight car),” And that was it. The door broke, locks broken and Bucky--No, The Winter Soldier was free once more. The Soldier burst out of his prison, hair falling over his face as he breathed softly. Zemo stood in front of him, The Soldier stood, eyes dark and showed no signs of Bucky at all.

“Cолдат? (Soldier?)”

“я готов отвечать (Ready to comply),” The Soldier replied, ready to receive his newest assignment.

“Mission report. December 16, 1991,”

And The Soldier knew exactly what to do.

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When Steve, Sam, and Y/N arrived, soldiers laid slumped against the wall, unconscious from being attacked by the dark Super Soldier.

“What the hell...Who did this?” Y/N gasped, checking on one of the soldiers, and sighed in relief when she found that he was still alive.

Steve led further into the cell, kneeling to check on a soldier when a soft voice called out.

“Help me. Help,”

Steve saw red. He stormed over to Zemo. “Get up,” He grabbed the man and slammed him against the wall. “Who are you? What do you want?” Steve’s fists clenched tightly on Zemo’s collar.

“To see an empire fall,”

Sam stepped in, narrowly missing a punch by The Soldier. “Bucky!” Y/N screamed to get his attention. Nothing. No hesitation or a glance at the woman. Sam landed a few punches on The Soldier before the assassin grabbed him and threw him against the cage. “Sam!” Y/N moved to help. “Y/N, stay back. This isn’t Bucky!” Steve ordered and Y/N froze. The Soldier looked at Steve and then to Y/N with dark eyes. He turned his attention to the woman, storming over to her. Before he could swing his fist at his soulmate, Steve grabbed Bucky and threw him back. “Y/N, get out of here!” “I am not leaving you here!” “Just go!” Steve narrowly missed a punch from Bucky, landing his fist onto his best friend’s face. Y/N took one last look at Bucky before taking off. Not to find safety, no. But to try and find ways to subdue The Soldier.

The Soldier and Steve fought hard against one another until they both ended in the water with a broken chopper. Sam and Y/N had left the facility to chase after Zemo but the man had disappeared.

Time to hide again

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Y/N didn’t hesitate to follow Sam to the meeting point where Steve had brought Bucky. She bit her nail, the man’s metal arm was clamped under heavy machinery so he wouldn’t be able to escape if he wanted to again.

Y/N moved to Bucky, brushing his hair out of his face. He was still unconscious, clothes and hair damp from his and Steve’s little swim. “Be careful, Y/N,” Sam warned. Y/N shook her head. “After two years, Sam. Two years of finding Bucky. I am not going to ‘be careful,” She cupped Bucky’s rough cheek, her thumb gently brushing the red bruise on his left cheekbone. Y/N held back tears, her heart was aching for the man before her. “I missed you, Bucky,” Y/N whispered, words filled with emotion and unspoken love.

The Winter Soldier slowly slipped back into its cage, the effects from the words were losing their power and once again, Bucky Barnes was back. The Super Soldier stirred awake a few minutes later from the distant sound of a helicopter. “Cap,” Sam called out. Steve stopped his conversation with Y/N, Sam gesturing to Bucky. Y/N’s breath hitched a little. Bucky was awake. She licked her dry lips, following Steve from behind.

Bucky groaned softly, using his hand to lift himself so he could look at Steve. His eyes drifted to Sam next and finally, Y/N. He parted his lips, wanting to say something to his soulmate but Steve cut off to him first.

“Answer me first. Which Bucky am I talking to?”

Bucky blinked a few times. “Your mom’s name was Sarah. You used to wear newspaper in your shoes,” Bucky chuckled. Steve was satisfied with Bucky’s answer. “Can’t read that in a museum,” Sam was in disbelief.

(Gif credited to the owner)

“Just like that, we’re supposed to be cool?”

Bucky’s eyes flickered to Y/N again then back to Steve.

“What did I do?” “Enough,” Steve replied. Bucky let out a soft sigh. “Oh, god. I knew this would happen. Everything HYDRA put inside me is still there. All he had to do was say the goddamn words,” Bucky whispered.

“Who was he?” Steve questioned.

“I don’t know,”

“People are dead. The bombing, the setup, the doctor did all that just to get 10 minutes with you. I need you to do better than “I don’t know,” Steve pressed on further. Y/N wanted to step forward and defend Bucky but Sam shook his head. Bucky squinted his eyes a little, brows furrowed as he recalled the moment before he became The Winter Soldier.

“He wanted to know about Siberia. Where I was kept. He wanted to know exactly where,” “Why would he need to know that?” Bucky knew it was finally time to spill the truth. And so he did. “Because I’m not the only Winter Soldier,” Bucky gave a brief recollection of The Winter Soldier program. Y/N moved a little closer to Sam, fear growing in her heart knowing there were more than Bucky.

Steve was now leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “Who were they?” “Their most elite death squad. More kills than anyone in HYDRA history. And that was before the serum,” Bucky explained. Y/N was now standing behind him, hands gently playing with the tips of his long hair as a form of comfort. Bucky found it comforting as well, leaning into the woman’s soft touch.

“They all turned out like you?” Sam questioned.

Bucky shook his head once. “Worse,” Now, it was Steve’s turn to speak.

“The doctor, could he control them?”

“Enough,” Bucky looked down at Y/N’s hands that were now on his strong shoulders. He leaned further into his soulmate’s touch, his head resting on her abdomen.

“Said he wanted to see an empire fall,” Steve glanced at Sam. Bucky leaned forward. “With these guys, he could do it. They speak 30 languages, can hide in plain sight, infiltrate, assassinate, destabilize. They can take a whole country down in one night, you’d never see them coming,”

Sam approached Steve, speaking to him lowly. Bucky turned to Y/N, his metal hand taking one of the woman’s hands softly. He brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I really am,” Bucky stood, turning to face the woman. He tilted his head down to face his soulmate, the corner of his mouth twitched into a small smile. “You know, I didn’t realize how short you are,” Y/N gasped, punching Bucky in the shoulder, only to realize she punched metal and winced softly. Bucky took both her hands, lacing their fingers together. “I want to apologize to you, doll. I made a promise and I didn’t fulfi-,” “No...Don’t say it. It’s not your fault. I know how hard it is to push him aside and be the man who you are today,” Y/N moved a hand up Bucky’s arm, resting on his bicep. She couldn’t get over how beefy he looked now compared to two years ago. Y/N cleared her throat, quickly averting her gaze so Bucky won’t catch her staring at him. Too late though. Y/N looked up at Bucky, cerulean eyes met hazelnut ones. Her hand moved up to his rough jaw, thumb feeling the sharp bristles of hair that covered his jaw. The Super Soldier leaned in slowly, his metal hand gripped Y/N’s waist gently. Their lips met in a soft kiss, one filled with unspoken love and kept emotions. Bucky pulled Y/N closer, deepening the soft kiss. A stray tear trickled down the agent’s cheek, Bucky pulled away slowly. He cupped Y/N’s cheek, his metal thumb wiped away the tear. He knew exactly why she was crying. Happy tears. Reunited finally after two years. “Two years, I spent wondering what my soulmate tasted like. I’m not disappointed,” Y/N laughed softly, both realizing that this was their first kiss. “Neither am I, Bucky. Neither am I,”

Bucky turned to face Steve and Sam, both men had smirks on their faces and nodding, seemingly impressed with the other Super Soldier. Y/N simply hid her red, embarrassed face in Bucky’s warm chest.

“Come on. We’re meeting someone,” Sam walked ahead, Steve followed shortly after along with Bucky and Y/N.

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Y/N certainly didn’t expect the days to get worse. The first being Tony and his side of the team ambushing Steve in Germany’s airport. Now, that was a bigger mess. Explosions here and there, heroes thrown around by one another and Y/N constantly at Bucky’s side. She couldn’t leave him and she was not letting him go anytime soon. Bucky felt the same way which is why he was doing his best in protecting the woman he loves. What’s worse was that those who could not get to Siberia were thrown in the Raft.

Steve manned the quinjet, Y/N and Bucky were seated at the back. Her hand took his metal ones, lacing their fingers together as Y/N leaned her head on his strong shoulder. Bucky let out a soft but audible sigh as he looked down at their laced fingers. All this fight was because of Zemo framing Bucky for the Vienna bombing.

Y/N looked up at Bucky. “Do you think this will ever stop? This fighting, people or organizations with plans to take over the world, the world in chaos?” The super soldier thought hard. Would it? Of course not. A storm was coming.

“I’ve been in this shit for over 70 years, Y/N. It won’t stop,” He looked down at his soulmate, cold thumb caressing Y/N’s skin. The woman nodded, leaning up to steal a kiss off his lips before snuggling into Bucky’s side for warmth. Bucky simply smirked at his soulmate’s action, heart fluttered a little from her affectionate gesture. Bucky stayed in the same position for hours while Y/N slept, making quiet conversation with Steve as the trio made their way to Siberia.

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“Doll, wake up,” Y/N heard a distant voice called out to her in her sleep. “Wake up, sweetheart. We’re here,” The woman’s eyes fluttered open, jolting up in an upright position as she looked out the cockpit window to see white. “Where are we?” Y/N let out a soft yawn shortly after her question.

“Siberia,” Steve answered before Bucky could. The quinjet landed beside a snow plower. Bucky moved over to the weapons locker, grabbing an assault rifle. The ram to the exit lowered, Y/N left first to examine the snow plower.

Steve glanced over to Bucky. “You remember that time we had to ride back from Rockaway Beach in the back of that freezer truck?”

Bucky looked over to Steve. “Was that the time we used our train money to buy hot dogs?” “You blew three bucks trying to win that stuffed bear for a redhead,” Bucky smiled brightly, remembering those memories that happened oh-so-long ago.

“What was her name, again?” “Dolores. You called her Dot,” “She’s gotta be a hundred years old right now,” Steve patted Bucky’s shoulder. “So are we, pal,” He nodded and left the quinjet.

Y/N stood by the opened doors.

“He can’t have been here more than a few hours,” The agent looked at both Super Soldiers. Tracks were still fresh too.

“Long enough to wake them up,” Bucky gripped the handle of his assault rifle, following Y/N into the facility with Steve behind them. The trio took the elevator down, stepping out, and swept corners. It was quiet. Eerily quiet. Y/N took the lead, handgun in her hand as she climbed the short flight of stairs. BANG

The trio simultaneously whipped around to the elevator, ready to attack the intruder.

“You ready?” Steve whispered. “Yeah,” Bucky looked through the sights of his rifle, hand steady. The metal door creaked, the middle was pushed open and it revealed Tony. Steve eased up a little, both men approaching one another. Tony’s headpiece pulled away to reveal the man’s face. “You seem a little defensive,” Tony commented. Steve nodded, still holding his shield up. “It’s been a long day,” Tony looked up at Bucky and Y/N. “At ease, Soldier. I’m not currently after you. Y/N, not gonna give this old man a hug?”

Y/N was no doubt Tony’s favorite person. They worked together with Y/N being mentored by him in tinkering with tech. After all, Y/N was still young. But don’t let that mistake you. She was smart, a formidable fighter and had friends in high places.

Y/N was just about to take a step down when Bucky stopped her. “No,” “Bucky, please. It’s Tony. I know him,” She whispered, gently pushing his arm away gently. The Super Soldier grumbled and moved his arm away, Y/N moved to hug the older man tightly. “I’m sorry you had to be tangled in this, kid,” Tony looked down at the young woman with soft eyes. “It was my choice, Tony. Don’t worry about me,” Tony sighed softly. He could never see Y/N as an enemy even if she was on Steve’s side. He loves her too much like a daughter. “Can’t help but worry, kid. You’re like a-,” “A daughter to me, I know. I’ll be fine,” Y/N smiled, giving Tony one more hug before pulling away.

“Why are you here?” Steve questioned, breaking the moment.

“Could be your story’s not so crazy. Maybe. Ross has no idea I’m here. I’d like to keep it that way. Otherwise, I gotta arrest myself,”

Steve stared at Tony with careful eyes. “Well, that sounds like a lot of paperwork,” Tony scoffed and Steve eased up, lowering his shield.

“It’s good to see you, Tony,” “You too, Cap,” Tony turned to Bucky, his rifle still pointed to the billionaire. “Hey, Manchurian Candidate, you’re killing me. There’s a truce here. You can drop..” Tony trailed off. Y/N approached Bucky, a hand on the muzzle of the rifle. “It’s okay..,” Bucky’s eyes flicked to his soulmate and lowered his gun.

“Let’s go,” Y/N moved past Bucky and led the way deeper into the facility.

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It was a surprise at how the facility still had power working after all these years. However, dust and cobwebs covered a lot of surface areas. The four ventured deeper into the bunker, entering a larger part of the facility. “I got heat signatures,” Tony informed.

“How many?” Steve asked.

“Uh, one,”

Six lights, six freezing tubes. “What the hell is all this..?” Y/N questioned, squinting her eyes at the tubes. Each one had a small hole in the glass.

“If it’s any comfort, they died in their sleep,” Zemo’s voice came on through the speaker. The four slowly walked over to the other side, Y/N closely examining the tubes. These must be the Super Soldiers Bucky was talking about. Each had a bullet in their head.

“Did you really think I wanted more of you?” Zemo’s voice came back on.

Bucky held his gun close, swallowing as he recognized each cold face. “What the hell?” He whispered, keeping close to his soulmate. “I’m grateful to them, though. They brought you here,” Zemo finally showed himself. Tony held his arm out, aiming a wrist missile at Zemo. Steve threw his shield at the glass, the Vibranium frisbee simply bounced off the wall and returned back to Steve. “Please, Captain. The Soviets built this chamber to withstand the launch blast of UR-100 rockets,”

“I’m betting I can beat that,” Tony claimed, cocky.

“Oh, I’m sure you could, Mr. Stark. Given time. But then you’d never know why you came,”

Steve approached the small window. “You killed innocent people in Vienna just to bring us here?”

Zemo moved closer to the window. “I’ve thought about nothing else for over a year. I studied you. I followed you. But now that you’re standing here...I just realized..there’s a bit of green in the blue of your eyes,” Zemo chuckled. “How nice to find a flaw,” Steve understood the situation. “You’re Sokovian. Is that what this is about?”

Zemo shook his head. “Sokovia was a failed state long before you blew it to hell. No. I’m here because I made a promise,”

Steve nodded slightly. “You lost someone?”

Zemo’s jaw clenched, clicking his tongue. “I lost everyone. And so will you,” Zemo turned, pushing a button.

By Steve, a monitor turned on. The blonde glanced at Zemo then approached the monitor. “An empire toppled by its enemies can rise again. But one which crumbles from within? That’s dead. Forever,” Tony, Bucky, and Y/N approached the monitor. It was a camera, panned in a very specific spot. The date in the corner read ‘December 16, 1991,’

Tony looked down at the monitor. “I know that road,” His eyes looked down at the tape. “What is this?” He questioned Zemo, the Sokovian simply chose not to say anything and allowed the heroes to watch as the video played.

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Y/N was horrified at the contents of the footage. Bucky--no, The Winter Soldier killed Tony’s parents. Tony’s eyes were hard, jaw ticking as he struggled to fight back his growing, erratic emotions. He was about to move to Bucky when Steve stopped him. “No, Tony,” Tony’s head snapped to Steve but his eyes didn’t meet the blonde’s until he found the courage to do so. “Did you know?” “I didn’t know it was him,” Steve avoided. “Don’t bullshit me, Rogers. Did you know?” Tony’s voice was strained, in a whisper of growing rage and sadness.

“Yes,” Tony pushed Steve away, betrayed by the fact Steve knew. Steve knew how his parents died and did not do anything to tell him.

“Tony, please, ju-,” Tony held a hand up to shush Y/N up. With a flick of his hand, he sent Steve flying before proceeding to attack Bucky.

It was an entire mess of chaos. Punches being thrown, kicks and just simply the pain of seeing a once-powerful team breaking apart all because of one single piece of footage.

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Y/N did her best to try and break off the fight but received punches herself. Steve and Bucky were overwhelming Tony. He shot a repulsor blast to Steve, sending him against the wall. “Tony, stop!” Y/N grabbed his right arm, struggling to pull Tony back. The billionaire shoved Y/N away hard, sending her to the wall as well. She bumped her head against the concrete, groaning softly as blood trickled from the open wound.

Bucky roared in anger, landing a hard fist onto the chest plate. Tony landed a few punches on Bucky but the Super Soldier barely flinched from it. Years as The Winter Soldier made him this way. Bucky was pissed off. Tony released a blast, Bucky forced the blast upwards before landing a hard punch straight to the core. Tony stumbled backwards. “You hurt Y/N!” Bucky roared, using his right arm to pin the billionaire against the wall. Metal fingers dig into the titanium plate. Steve struggled to stand, looking over to the side to see Y/N in pain.

“Y/N,” Steve groaned out, moving over to check on the woman.

Bucky pushed hard against Tony, screaming as fingers grabbed the glowing core. An unexpected blast from the core sent Bucky stumbling back, landing on his right arm.

Tony shot a blast at Bucky, the Super Soldier landed beside Y/N. “Bucky..,” Y/N moved over to Bucky, heaving his head on her lap. Her eyes landed on the metal stumped, the edges orange from the heat. Bucky took some time to recover, eyes blurry and mind hazy from the hit.

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When the fighting ended, Tony was beaten to a pulp. Y/N was supporting Bucky, with sad eyes on Tony’s downed form. Steve limped over to the two, assisting Y/N with her soulmate.

“That shield doesn’t belong to you. You don’t deserve it. My father made that shield,” Steve has heard enough. He simply dropped the shield, leaving the facility with Y/N and Bucky.

Steve carried Bucky back to the quinjet, setting him down. Y/N sat beside her lover, pulling him close.

“I expected to see you here, Captain Rogers,” T’Challa approached the jet. Steve was on guard, the King raised his hand up. “I almost killed the wrong man, Captain Rogers,” Steve relaxed as the King approached the ram of the jet. “I apologize, Mr. Barnes. I truly am,” T’Challa eyed the couple, understanding what was going on. Bucky simply gave T’Challa a nod, weak from all the fighting. “May I place an offer, Captain Rogers?” “What’s the offer?” “Sanctuary for Mr. Barnes and his soulmate in Wakanda. We will take care of them,” Steve looked at Y/N and Bucky, the woman was whispering soft words to her soulmate.

“Thank you, Your Highness. I think it’s best if they do so,” T’Challa nodded. “Very well then. Wakanda’s doors are open for you,” With that, the King left and before Y/N knew it, she was in Wakanda.

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Y/N looked at Bucky with sad eyes. He had to do this. She knew he had to do this. Cryosleep. Her hand rested on the back of Bucky’s neck, both soulmates looking at one another deep in the eyes before Bucky made the move to plant a kiss on the agent’s lips.

Steve approached the two. “You sure about this?” The blonde questioned.

(Gif credited to the owner)

“I can’t trust my own mind,” Bucky gave a short smile, looking up to his lover. He knew this would be hard for Steve, especially more so on Y/N. God knows how long it will take to remove HYDRA’s programming etched in his mind like a parasite. He took Y/N’s hand, lacing their fingers together.

“So, until they figure out how to get this stuff out of my head, I think going back under is the best thing. For everybody,” Steve nodded. He was not really fond of Bucky leaving Y/N alone and freezing up but if he wanted to prevent another Zemo occurrence, this was the price to pay. “I’ll give you and Y/N some time together,” Steve left shortly after.

Bucky turned his attention to Y/N, tears pooling in the corner of her eyes. “Baby doll..” He cupped Y/N’s cheeks, thumb swiping away a stray tear. “It’s..It’ll be selfish of me to stop you...So I won’t,” She laughed lightly, hands cupping both of Bucky’s rough cheeks and rested her forehead against his. “It’ll be over before you know it. I know you’ll wait for me, Y/N,” Bucky whispered, leaning in slowly until both their lips met in a soft kiss. Y/N returned the kiss, pouring all her emotion and love into it. She didn’t want to let go even though she knew she had to. So she did. Y/N pulled away after a few seconds, pressing one more peck to Bucky’s lips. “I love you..” Y/N confessed. She did. She loved Bucky with all her heart and soul and Bucky felt the same. “I love you too, sweetheart,”

Y/N stepped away, slowly releasing her touch. Bucky stood, stepping into the tube. Steve stood beside Y/N, watching as the Wakandan doctors began the process of freezing. He gave Steve and Y/N one last smile before leaning back, freezing up almost instantly.

Y/N missed him every day.

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Two years. Another two years of waiting for Bucky to awoke from his cryostasis. With Shuri’s help, Y/N worked hard day and night to perfect Bucky’s cure and when a solution was formed, Y/N could not wait to see Bucky.

“You’re sure this will work, right?” Y/N turned to her good friend.

Shuri smiled. “Come on, Y/N. You’ve seen my work, you tell me. I have faith in it and in us,” Y/N laughed nodding, her excitement was visible to the princess. “Two long years without your soulmate was hard, wasn’t it?” Shuri’s eyes were filled with pity but also admiration. She has yet to find her soulmate but every day, without fail, she sees Y/N. The woman went from a sad mess to a strong woman. Shuri assisted the agent with keeping her mind filled and for two years straight, Y/N’s mind was kept off Bucky.

Y/N laughed softly. “Yeah, too long, Shuri. Come on. I want to see him,” She left Shuri’s lab and made her way to the medical wing. Doctors and nurses surrounded the tube, the machine hissing as the defrosting process began. The agent bit her lower lip, standing behind the small crowd of doctors and nurses all on standby to assist with the frozen Super Soldier.

The door hissed opened, heavy mist escaped the tube. Two doctors stepped forward, helping the figure out of the tube. As the mist cleared and the doctors stepped aside, there he stood, looking exactly the same as he was in 2016. James Buchanan Barnes was reawoken, cerulean blue eyes scanning the room.

Y/N felt tears pricked her eyes once more. “Bucky..” She called out, tears falling down her cheeks. Bucky turned to the source of the soft voice, immediately recognizing it. “Y/N…” Bucky hoarsely called out. Y/N ran to Bucky, wrapping her arms around his abdomen, and sobbed into his chest. The woman cried hard, finally reunited with her lover. Bucky was in shock. A good shock. He wrapped his arm around Y/N’s body and leaned down, burying his face deep in his soulmate’s neck.

Shuri approached the couple. “Welcome back, Sergeant Barnes,” She smiled at the reunion. The first broken white boy she was going to fix. Y/N pulled away from the hug, wiping her tears away. “Bucky, this is Shuri. Wakanda’s princess and definitely the smartest person on Earth,” Shuri playfully nudged Y/N’s shoulder.

Y/N cupped Bucky’s cheek. “Babe, listen to me. The doctors are going to run a few checkups on you and when you’re done, I’ll take us home and fill you in on what’s been going on, okay?” Bucky simply nodded, throat too dry to even speak. Y/N stepped away, allowing the doctors to work on her soulmate.

The woman returned after half an hour, Bucky was redressed into more traditional wear. “Doll...God, I missed you,” Bucky pulled Y/N in for a short kiss, their first kiss since 2016. Y/N took Bucky’s hand, fingers intertwined. “I missed you too, Bucky...Too much,” She showed him a sad smile. “Come on. I’ll take you home,” And so she did.

Y/N had been living in a small, peaceful hut just a few minutes away from the main city. She fed him, showered him with affection, and of course, ran him through what has been going on. She mentioned that Steve visits them whenever he could, what’s happening to the world right now and in Wakanda.

Y/N moved to sit beside Bucky on their shared bed, the Super Soldier gave her a handsome smile. “Out of all the things I missed about this world, I missed your smile the most,” Bucky flirted. Y/N gasped softly, gently nudging Bucky’s shoulder. “Ever the gentleman, Mr. Barnes?” “I’m always a gentleman, doll. You just get to see more of that side than anyone else,” Now that made Y/N laugh, a sound Bucky came to love immediately.

Life was peaceful with Bucky. The couple has finally found peace.

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For months, Ayo, Shuri and Y/N have been helping Bucky with his release from HYDRA’s hold.

“Y/N, it’s going to work this time. Trust me,” Shuri watched as Y/N paced up and down her lab, biting her thumb. Ayo had brought Bucky deep into the Wakandan forest, insisting that it was best for this final process of the removal into the woods just in case Bucky reacted to the words and went on massive havoc.

“It’s been almost two hours, Shuri. What if..,” Y/N stopped, shaking her head to shake away the negative thoughts. Footsteps caught Y/N’s attention, her eyes looking towards the lab entrance. Her eyes widened when Ayo and Bucky stepped in. “He is free,” Ayo informed, bowing a little to Shuri. Y/N covered her mouth, gasping at Ayo’s words. Bucky was free. He was free. This means the words had zero effect on the Super Soldier. She approached her lover, noticing the puff under his eyes and the red veins on the whites. “Oh, honey...Come here,” Y/N reached up to her taller lover, hugging him tightly. This was not tears of sadness, no. They were tears of happiness. Finally, The Winter Soldier was no more. Bucky was now James Buchanan Barnes.

“Come on, let’s go home,” The agent turned to Ayo, mouthing a ‘thank you’ before taking the Super Soldier home.

That’s when their life truly took off. Y/N taught Bucky a lot about the world, including the usage of the smartphone. At first, Bucky was hesitant, claiming that he didn’t need to use a smartphone. Now? The Super Soldier was hooked on it. It made Y/N shake her head in amusement.

Apart from the teaching of the modern world, Y/N also spent more time with her soulmate. She took care of him, cooked for him, bathed with him, had some fun with him and Bucky truly knew, from that moment on, that he was devoting his life to his soulmate. Shuri witnessed their moments together, even taking note each time their White Wolf would fall in love with Y/N. She shook her head, smiling before resuming her work on a certain prosthetic arm.

Their happiness lasted for months, of course. Until Y/N spotted four figures walking towards their little home. “Bucky,” She called out softly.

“Hm?” Bucky hummed in response, looking up at his soulmate. Y/N pointed to the four figures. The closer they got, Y/N recognized who it was. “T’Challa,” Y/N greeted with a smile. The King returned the smile as a Wakandan soldier placed down a case. The agent knew what it was. Bucky came over, looking down in the content of the case. He looked at Y/N, who nodded at him. If T’Challa and Okoye were here bringing this asset Shuri was working on, that means something was coming. Something big that needed every hand on deck.

Bucky looked at the King. 

“Where’s the fight?” “On its way,” Bucky nodded, moving closer to the arm. “Steve Rogers is on his way,”

“We’ll be there,” The King nodded and left with his guards.

Y/N approached the arm, running her fingers on the golden of the cold arm. A big smile spread on her lips as she closed the case and picked it up. “Come on. I have a surprise for you too,” She took Bucky’s hand, tugging him back to their hut.

“Doll-,” “No, no. I’ve been working on this one. It isn’t much but I know you’ll like it,” Y/N cut her soulmate off before he could say anything. She set the case on the bed, moving to grab another case from under their bed. “Wait, how long has that been there?” Bucky raised an eyebrow. How did he not realize that fairly large box under the bed? Y/N laughed lightly, leaning over to steal a kiss off Bucky’s lips before setting the case beside the arm. “I placed it there when you weren’t looking, of course. You ready?” The Super Soldier nodded. Y/N unlocked the case, pushing the lid up to reveal Bucky’s newest suit. Bucky approached the leather suit, picking it up with his hand. “Doll, this is... This is gorgeous. Thank you,” He set the suit, moving to pick Y/N up by the waist and twirled her around in happiness. The Super Soldier leaned up, kissing his lover softly. “Thank you, doll...What would I be without you?” Bucky set his lover down, keeping his arm secured around her waist and forehead against hers.

Y/N pecked his lips sweetly. “Lost,” She exhaled softly, staying in their intimate position for a few more seconds before pulling away. “Come on. Let’s get dressed,” She pulled away from Bucky, leaving for the bathroom to change into her battle suit.

Y/N stepped out of the bathroom, tying her hair up. She found Bucky flexing his metal fingers, already in a full suit. “My, my, the arm looks good on you, honey,” The agent smiled, running a hand down the prosthetic arm. Bucky was smiling. “I didn’t think I would get another. This one is better than the old one,” She laced their fingers together. Bucky cupped Y/N’s cheek, leaning down for a kiss. “I love you,” She blushed lightly. “I love you too, James. Now, come on. Let’s wait for Steve,” Y/N led Bucky out, walking hand in hand with her lover to the entrance of the palace.

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A quinjet landed in front of T’Challa. The ramp lowered, revealing Steve, Natasha, Bruce, Rhodey, Vision, and Wanda. Steve approached the King.

“Seems like I’m always thanking you for something,” Steve held his hand out, T’Challa took it and shook the blonde’s hand.

“So, how big of an assault should we expect?” T’Challa asked.

“Uh, sir, I think you should expect quite a big assault,” Bruce assisted.

“How we looking?” Natasha looked at the King. T’Challa looked over his shoulder. “You will have my Kingsguard, the Border Tribe, the Dora Milaje, and,” The King gestured to Bucky and Y/N, the couple making their way over to Steve.

“Nat! Wanda!” “Y/N!” The two women ran over to Y/N, hugging her tightly.

“And a semi-stable 100-year old man,” Bucky finished T’Challa’s line with a big smile. Steve moved in to hug his old friend.

“How you been, Buck?” “Uh, not bad, for the end of the world. Been spending a lot more time with Y/N,” Bucky gestured to his soulmate. Y/N pulled away from Natasha and Wanda. “Steve!” Y/N ran over to Steve, pulling the tall blonde in for a hug. “Y/N,” Steve laughed lightly, picking the younger woman up and hugged her tightly. “Been too long, Y/N. We missed you,” The blonde set the agent down on her feet. “Bucky and I missed you guys too. It’s a shame that the only way for us to be reunited is when the end of the world is happening,” Y/N moved to Bucky, holding his hand. Steve nodded at her words. “Sadly, it is,” T’Challa approached the group. “Come. Let’s get to the lab. My sister has been itching to see Vision,” With that, The King and his guards let them to Shuri’s lab.

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Y/N was having a short conversation with Sam, laughing lightly as she watched Sam and Bucky have their usual playful banter when the Falcon noticed something amiss in the sky. Sam tapped into comms. “Hey, Cap, we got a situation here,” Something extraterrestrial had breached the atmosphere and was coming in fast to Wakanda. The object broke into pieces upon impact with the massive protective bubble that protected Wakanda. Y/N flinched a little from the sight of the explosion while Bucky looked in amazement. “God, I love this place,” Bucky mumbled, eyes fixated on the bubble.

Rhodey’s voice came over comms this time. “Yeah, don’t start celebrating yet, guys. We got more incoming outside the dome,” And true enough, more projectiles were approaching. This time, they were aiming to land outside of the protective bubble. Y/N moved close to Bucky as five projectiles managed to land successfully outside of the dome. She squinted her eyes, studying the five. “They look like..transport ships. Or ships in general. These can’t be bombs,” “Whatever the hell they are, Y/N, they mean trouble,” Sam pushed his goggles down, wings spread and ready to fly. Bucky looked over to the side, seeing the team on transport. “Come on. Let’s hitch a ride,” He ran ahead, his soulmate following from behind. -------------------------------------------------------------------

The large Wakandan armies were in formation. Rhodey stood by the front line, Sam was making flybys, Steve, Natasha and T’Challa had gone ahead to negotiate with the enemies. Y/N’s hand slipped into Bucky’s metal hand, both instinctively laced their fingers together. Bucky turned to look at his soulmate and Y/N did the same. “I love you. No matter what happens next,” The Super Soldier leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Y/N’s lips. The agent inhaled deeply, returning the soft kiss before pulling away when Steve returned. “They surrender?” Bucky released Y/N’s hand, eyes forward to the ships. Steve let out a heavy sigh. “Not exactly,”

(Gif credited to the owner)

The five ships began to move, hovering in the air. Loud snarls and heavy footsteps were fast approaching the edge of the dome. Y/N stood her ground, hand gripping her pulse rifle. It was a specially made and specifically designed rifle capable of long-ranged attack and hand-to-hand combat when turned into a spear. Y/N tilted her head, her body fully enclosed in a black vibranium-made suit complete with a headpiece to protect her face. This suit would protect her and best of all, it enhances her movements. The suit itself was black. It had blue streaks and fur around the neck. Kinda like a fur coat but make it extra badass. The helmet had ears, similar to T’Challa’s suit.

Y/N felt eyes on her and found Bucky looking at her with a smirk on his lips. Perks of being best friends with the Princess of Wakanda. All Shuri wanted was for Y/N to be safe during any battles she fought. “Don’t look at me like that,” Y/N pouted under her nanotech helmet. “Can’t help it, Doll. You look good,” Bucky complimented. Y/N playfully nudged Bucky’s side, placing her rifle on her back for now.

The massive hoards of Outriders ran past the trees and towards the dome.

“What the hell?” Bucky cursed under his breath. “Looks like we pissed her off,” Natasha added.

The Outriders piled up against the shield, snarling and growling as they tried to force their way in. Some were sliced in half and those that made it through immediately began charging towards the humans. The Border Tribe held their capes out, invisible shields lined up as the first row of defense.

Y/N stood her ground, getting ready for the attack and knowing that this would be a whole mess of dead aliens and explosions.

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All went well. Y/N felt she was winning until Thanos came and ripped the Mind Stone off Vision’s head. That’s when everything fell. “You should have gone for the head,” Thanos rasped out, snapping his fingers. A bright light and complete silence. When the flash cleared, Thanos was gone. Stormbreaker was on the ground by Thor’s feet. “Where’d he go?” Steve asked no one in particular, a hand on his abdomen. “Thor, where’d he go?” The blonde repeated but The God of Thunder simply kept silent.

“Steve? Y/N?” Bucky called out. Y/N whipped her head to face her lover, his hand was turning into dust. 

(Gif credited to the owner)

“NO! BUCKY!” Y/N screamed, running to her lover. Before she could feel his touch one last time, her soulmate disappeared into a pile of dust. The woman froze, some dust settled on her hand. Her heart was racing, her head feeling tight, and her chest hurting. Her body shook, dropping to her knees as her hands brushed against the dust. Tears pricked her eyes, color draining from her vision. Emptiness filled her heart. Y/N had lost Bucky, again. For the third time. Tears fell, trickling down her reddened cheek as she sobbed. She failed to realize others around here were turning to dust as well. T’Challa, Groot, Sam, and half of the population.

“Y/N, hey..Y/N,” Steve called out, moving over to the grieving woman. “Y/N,” She kneeled beside her, arms wrapping around her shaking form. Y/N tried to push Steve away but she knew the next best comfort was from Steve.

Y/N cried hard in Steve’s shoulder, hands gripping the brown shoulder straps. “He...He’s gone, Steve. I..I can’t see colors anymore... He’s gone... Bucky’s gone..,” Y/N wailed, Steve simply kept the crying woman close. He had just lost his best friend and Y/N lost her soulmate. Steve looked up from Y/N’s form, watching as the others, just like Bucky, disappearing into thin ash. That’s when Steve knew that Thanos had won.

Thanos won and there was nothing the Avengers could do.

For now

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Five long years. Five long, hellish years since Y/N lost her soulmate. She had no will to live. After all, her soulmate was dead and so was half of the universe. The first two years, Y/N struggled to cope with Bucky’s death. The smell of his clothes were long gone and the pictures they took together over the course of their relationship buried deep in the agent’s phone. She couldn’t look at them, fearing it would break her further. Natasha and Steve did their best to help Y/N but alas, they were not able to fill the void.

The third year was when Y/N has had enough. She was sick of grieving and had finally accepted the fact that Bucky was never going to come back. So, she contacted Clint and became vigilante partners, taking down those who took advantage of their situation for their own, selfish gains. For the remaining two years, Y/N fought side by side with Clint, now known as Ronin by many. It was just Ronin and Shadow. Until Natasha found them.

(Gif credited to the owner)

It was a painful reunion with the Avengers, especially with Tony. Seeing the man in such a malnourished state broke Y/N’s heart but Tony wasn’t angry at her. Hell, he missed the woman. Despite what’s going on with the world, time has been kind to her. Y/N assumed she was done after the reunion until Steve told her about their big plan. Something about Scott coming back from this Quantum Realm and Tony using Scott’s theory on Quantum Realm to create time travel. Y/N, of course, agreed to this plan. It was a chance to finally get the world, to get Bucky back altogether. She was not to let this opportunity pass. And so, the team went their separate ways. Scott, Bruce, Tony and Steve. Rocket and Thor. Nebula and Rhodey. Natasha, Clint, and Y/N.

Of course, with every major decision, a sacrifice has to be made.

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When everyone returned, there was excitement on everyone’s face except Clint and Y/N’s. Clint dropped to his knees and Y/N did the same, hands on her lap with head hung low. This pulled everyone’s attention to the two. “Clint, where’s Nat?” Bruce asked. Clint simply kept silent, lip quivering and a growing lump in his throat. That reaction itself was enough to inform the others of Natasha’s sacrifice. Y/N looked up at Steve, eyes red and teary but somehow, tears refused to fall. She knew Natasha wouldn’t want to see Y/N crying so she forced herself to be strong. It felt like Bucky all over. Natasha had been with her through thick and thin. Y/N inhaled sharply, wiping her eyes with the back of her hands before calming down. There was still much work to be done.

The Avengers stood in a circle around Bruce. The Gauntlet was ready, stones in place. Everyone was suited up, Y/N’s helm enclosed her face. Enforced doors began closing on Tony’s command. “Everybody comes home..” Bruce mumbled. He slipped his hand into the Gauntlet, the nano techs formed perfectly around his fist. As soon as the Gauntlet was on Bruce, power surged through his arm. Bruce groaned in pain, immediately taking a knee and held his right arm. Even with the power of the Hulk, it was not enough to contain the raw power of all six Infinity Stones. The power was burning through Bruce’s arm.

“Take it off, take it off!” Thor urged.

“No, wait. Bruce, are you okay?” Steve stepped in. Bruce groaned.

“Talk to me, Banner, “ It was Tony’s turn to talk. “I’m okay,” Bruce forced out, the burn was up to his shoulder. He yelled in pain, raising his fist up and finally snapped. A bright flash and Bruce was on the floor, the Gauntlet slipped from his destroyed arm.

“Bruce!” Steve rushed over to Bruce. Clint kicked the Gauntlet away.

“Don’t move him,” Steve instructed. Tony administered some medicine on Bruce’s arm, to cool off the burn.

“Did it work?” Bruce panted out. “We’re not sure. It’s okay,” Thor replied. The enforced doors opened. Scott noticed the green was back and so did Y/N but that was not why she followed him. She trailed Scott quietly, something wasn’t right. The birds were chirping and the greenery were lively. “Scott?” Y/N moved a hand to his arm. “Guys,” Scott whispered, lips shakily forming into a smile. “I think it worked,”

The next thing Y/N knew, she was blasted backwards with Scott, something had hit them upon impact. More and more projectiles aimed for The Compound, destroying the buildings into pieces. Y/N screamed as she tried to grab onto a broken ledge. She finally caught one and let out a sigh of relief. Y/N groaned, pulling herself up. Thank god for her Vibranium suit. She noticed she was alone. “Scott?! Scott?!” She screamed out. “I’m okay!” Scott replied. Y/N let out a sigh of relief. “Mayday, mayday, does anybody copy?” Rhodey’s voice came on comms.

“We’re on the lower level. It’s flooding!” Y/N gasped. Was Rhodey alone? Y/N hoped not. “Rhodey, I’m on my way. Scott! Get down there ASAP,” Y/N made her way down to the lower levels, moving fast to rescue her teammates.

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The flooding was intense. Y/N’s suit struggled a little to keep up but it was still holding strong. “Rhodey, hang on! Scott and I are on our way!” She spoke through comms, dodging debris and crawling through tunnels, climbing down to reach the lowest level. Y/N heard panting. “Rhodey!” She screamed out, jumping into the water. Scott had just arrived as well, back to his original size.

Rhodey was underwater and was losing water fast. That’s when he spotted something behind Scott. His Iron Patriot suit amongst the debris. Rhodey made some noise, gesturing to the suit. Y/N turned to where Rhodey was pointing and quickly made his way to the suit. She grabbed the heavy hunk of armor, bringing it over to Rhodey. The suit recognized its user and opened up, Y/N assisted the older man into the suit. Once enclosed, the water was drained and Rhodey could breathe.

“Rocket!” Rhodey held his arms up, thrusters lit up underwater to push the debris up for breathable space. Y/N grabbed Rocket, the alien Raccoon coughed hard, spitting out water. “Hey! Guys!” Bruce strained out. “Little help here?”

Scott tapped on his arm. “On it. Y/N, hold onto Rocket and Bruce. Rhodey, stick close to me,” The three moved on Scott’s instruction. Y/N held tight onto Bruce and Rocket.

On perfect cue, the rubble began moving hard. Scott grew in size, punching through the heavy debris easily. He set Bruce, Rhodey, Rocket and Y/N down. Y/N’s eyes grew wide in size at the massive army Thanos had and... Steve had? That’s when she noticed color pouring into her vision again and she gasped. There was...Bucky...Bucky was back!

Y/N struggled to find her lover amongst the army of Wakandans and Sorcerers and allies alike. She stood her ground by Bruce.

(Gif credited to the owner)

“Avengers...Assemble,” Steve spoke through gritted teeth. T’Challa yelled and it was go time.

Armies clashed together. Explosions, bodies flying, and bloodshed. It was utter chaos. Y/N clawed her way through the Outriders, fighting alongside Hope and M’Baku. She yelled in anger, slicing down each feral alien with her claws until her back touched with another. She turned, ready to attack but froze when a familiar metal arm shone under the light. Bucky turned as well, aiming his rifle at the figure behind him but froze. Y/N’s helm revealed her face.

“B-Bucky,” She whimpered. “Doll,” Y/N jumped on Bucky, hugging her soulmate tightly with her face buried in his neck. Bucky dropped his gun, strong arms wrapped around his lover’s waist and held onto her tightly. Y/N didn’t want to let go, so very terrified that this was all a dream. An explosion nearby snapped the woman back to reality and that assured her that all of this was definitely not a dream.

Y/N slowly let go of Bucky, pulling away slightly. Their eyes meet, hands held onto one another tightly. “Bucky, I-,” “No, No. Don’t say it’s your fault. It isn’t,” Bucky cuts his lover off, a hand on his cheek. Y/N couldn’t take it anymore. She pulled Bucky down for a kiss, a kiss filled with emotion, love, and pain. A kiss between two lost souls. It was like a twisted magical moment. Death and explosion surrounded the scene as they kissed. Y/N pulled away slightly. “I love you...I love you..” Y/N chanted. Bucky broke into a handsome smile. “I love you too,” The Super Soldier leaned down, stealing a  kiss off his soulmate’s lips.

“Hey! A little help here?” Rocket grumbled, blasting a jumping Outrider out of the sky with his dual blaster. Y/N pulled away completely from Bucky, grabbing her lover’s gun off the ground, and eased up the Outriders closing in on their position. She let out a sigh of relief, handing the rifle back to Bucky. “Let’s back into the fight, honey,” Y/N’s helm formed around her face again, running off to ease up the alien traffic.

It was a big fight indeed. Shots from Thanos’s ship rained down on the battlefield, sending his own troops and the heroes flying from the impact. Y/N groaned, landing beside Wanda. When the shooting stopped, Y/N looked up to the sky with everyone else. “What the hell..” Bright light forced its way through Thanos’s ship, cannons whirring down as the ship was rendered useless, breaking apart from the effective attack. Y/N turned to Wanda and nodded, running over to the bright light that landed by Peter. He handed the Gauntlet to Carol, noticing the large army of troops running towards the two.

“I don’t know how you’re gonna get it through all of that,” Peter looked up at Carol.

Wanda and Valkyrie landed by the blonde woman. Okoye approached Peter, gripping her spear. “Don’t worry,” Wanda assured.

“She’s got help,” Okoye continued. Pepper landed in front of Peter, Mantis, Shuri, and Y/N joined in with the stand. Hope grew back up to size, Gamora and Nebula by her side as the women approached the army. Both parties clash with Carol making her way towards the van. The others stayed back to reduce the large army down to size. Y/N effortlessly clawed down the Outriders, jumping on their backs to get to the Chitauri Gorilla towering over the heroes. The Gorilla roared in pain, falling dead with Y/N standing on its back. She caught Bucky looking at her from far, a proud look on his face. Y/N smiled under her helm, jumping off the dead alien, and ran to assist the other heroes.

Outriders after Outriders, it seemed endless. Y/N was thrown back by a Gorilla, her back hitting against some debri. “Y/N!” Shuri screamed for her, the Gorilla charging for the woman. She waited for the impact. Bright light and the impact never came. Y/N opened her eyes, the Gorilla had turned to ash. Immediately, she scrambled up to her feet and looked around to find the Outriders and Leviathans turning to ash. Who snapped the Gauntlet? Y/N rushed over to higher ground, looking around. Her eyes spotted Thanos’s form, disappearing and...Tony. “Tony!” Y/N screamed, horror-filled her eyes as she jumped off the debris and made a run towards the man.

Tony stumbled to the side, his left arm shriveled and burned from the snap. ‘It’s the only way,’ Tony repeated mentally. His legs gave way, the man leaned against the rock. His heart slowed, vision blurred. The heroes heard Y/N’s scream, following the frantic woman. Rhodey landed in front of Tony, faceplate retract. He approached the dying man, kneeling by him.

A comforting hand cupped the side of Tony’s head, both men shared a smile as Peter landed and Y/N skidded to a halt by the teenage boy. Her own helm retracted tears in her eyes.

“Mr. Stark. Hey!” Peter was breathing shakily, moving to Tony. “Mr. Stark, can you hear me? It’s Peter,”

Y/N dropped to her knees beside the teenage boy, taking Tony’s hand. He was like a father to her. She loved him and Y/N knew Tony loved her like a daughter. Tony turned to both of them, his grip was light on Y/N’s hand. He had so much to say to both of them and to Pepper too but life was slipping from him. “We won, Mr. Stark,”

Y/N nodded, tears spilling. “We won, dad... We won,” Y/N sobbed out.

“Y/N…” Tony whispered, giving her hand a light squeeze to try and comfort her.

“We won, Mr Stark,” Peter repeated, Y/N was hunched over and crying. Pepper held Peter’s arm, helping the boy stand up. Y/N knew Pepper was a strong woman. The older woman moved a hand to Y/N’s shoulder, rubbing it gently before facing her dying husband. “Hey,” Pepper whispered. Tony moved a little to look at his wife.

“Hey, Pep,” Tony mumbled. His hand moved over to Pepper’s hand over his chest.

“Friday?” Pepper called out. “Life functions critical,” The AI responded.

Tony looked at Pepper and Y/N, giving them a short smile. Y/N was shaking hard, trying her very hardest to not let the dam break. “Tony? Look at me,” Pepper urged and the man did so. He groaned weakly. The pain was all he felt. “We’re going to be okay,” Pepper assured. Tony felt his breathing becoming shallow, wheezing lightly. “You can rest now,” The blonde woman stroked Tony’s head lightly. The wheezing stopped and the grip on Y/N’s hand was now non-existent. Pepper hung her head, the light of the arc reactor disappeared. Y/N leaned forward, wailing hard on Tony’s arm. Peter wiped his tears, a shaky gasp escaped him to find the other heroes kneeling for Tony.

(Gif credited to the owner)

Bucky was the first to move, approaching his broken lover. His hands held her shoulder, helping her to stand and turned her to face him. The Super Soldier pulled Y/N into a tight hug, her arms moved around his waist as she cried into Bucky’s shoulder.

Tony’s sacrifice was not to be forgotten by anyone, especially to the rest of the world. What he did that day marks him as the greatest hero the world got. Tony possessed something many don’t have: the courage to sacrifice for the greater good.

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The funeral was held privately in the comforts of Tony’s property. Happy, Pepper, Rhodey, Morgan, Y/N, Thor, and Steve had gathered in the living room of the home. One of the Iron Man helmets was set on the table, projecting a hologram of Tony. “Everybody wants a happy ending, right? But it doesn’t always roll that way. Maybe this time,” The hologram began. Y/N looked down at a photo she held. It was an old photo of her and Tony in his old Malibu home, Tony had an arm around Y/N’s shoulder as she held her first piece of tech made under the older man’s supervision.

“I’m hoping if you play this back, it’s in celebration. I hope families are reunited. I hope we get it back. And something like a normal version of the planet has been restored. If there ever was such a thing. God, what a world. Universe, now,” The hologram continued. That statement made the group smile. Ever the joker.

“If you told me 10 years ago we weren’t alone, let alone to this extent, I mean, I-I wouldn’t be surprised but come on, who knew? The epic forces of darkness and light have come into play. And for better or worse, that’s the reality Morgan’s gonna have to find a way to grow up in,” The hologram paused for a short second. Morgan perked up at the mention of her name, looking at Pepper.

“So, I thought I’d probably better record a little greeting in the case of an untimely death. On my part. Not that death at any time isn’t untimely. This time travel thing that we’re gonna try and pull off tomorrow, it’s got me scratching my head about the survivability of it all. That’s the thing,” The hologram held his hand out as he spoke. “Then again, that’s the hero gig, right? Part of the journey is the end,” Y/N took notice of Morgan moving closer to Pepper.

“What am I even tripping for? Everything is gonna work out exactly the way it’s supposed to. And Y/N, if you see this, for God’s sake, kid, follow your heart. Remember what old Tony taught you, yeah?” The hologram moved, getting off the chair and moved to the helmet. The hologram--No, Tony leaned down, eyes in Morgan’s direction.

“I love you, 3,000,” One last smile and the recording shuts off.

(Gif credited to owner)

Y/N didn’t realize this was the closer she needed. The heroes had gathered outside of the cabin, all dressed in black in accordance with the funeral. Y/N stood beside Bucky, lacing their fingers together. As the bouquet of flowers, along with Tony’s old arc reactor floated away, Y/N had moved and stood by Steve, watching in sadness.

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Eventually, it was time for everyone to part ways. However, there’s one last thing left to do...

“Remember, you have to return the stones to the exact moment you got ‘em or you’re gonna open up a bunch of nasty alternative realities,” Bruce explained. Steve nodded, closing up the case. “Don’t worry, Bruce. Clip all the branches,” “You know, I tried. When I had the Gauntlet, the stones, I tried to bring her back,” Bruce looked at Steve. “I miss her, man,” “Me too,” Steve nodded. Bucky and Y/N stood by the machine as Sam walked the blonde to it. “You know, if you want, I could come with you,” Sam offered.

Steve turned to him with a smile. “You’re a good man, Sam. This one’s on me, though,” Steve turned to Bucky and Y/N, approaching the couple. “Don’t do anything stupid till I get back,”

Bucky broke into a smile. “How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you,” Bucky replied, moving to pull Steve in for a hug. He knew this was it.

(Gif credited to the owner)

“Gonna miss you, buddy,” “It’s gonna be okay, Buck,”

Steve pulled away from the hug, turning to Y/N.

“You take care of him, okay? Take care of one another,” Steve moved in and pulled Y/N into a hug. The woman didn’t think too deeply into Steve’s words. It was just a piece of advice, right? Y/N pulled away from the hug. “You know I will, Steve,” The blonde gave her a smile and moved up to the platform. The machine whirred up to live, the white suit covered Steve’s body.

Sam turned to Bruce. “How long is this gonna take?”

“For him, as long as he needs. For us, five seconds,”

Steve picked up Mjolnir. “You ready, Cap?” Steve nodded.

“Alright, we’ll meet you back here, okay?” Bruce looked down at the switches.

“You bet,” Steve replied, the helm covered his head.

He gave Bucky, Sam, and Y/N one more look.

“Going quantum. Three..two..one,” And Steve was gone.

“And returning in five..four..three..two..one,” Nothing. Bruce furrowed his brows, flicking a few switches.

“Where is he?” Sam asked. “I don’t know. He blew right by his timestamp. He should be here,” Bruce replied.

Bucky turned to walk off but stopped when he noticed a familiar figure in the distance.

“Bucky, what-” Y/N turned to the figure.

“Sam,” Bucky called out. Sam turned to the Super Soldier, stopping his urging with Bruce. He stood beside Bucky, eyes on the figure. The three approached the man and the closer they got to him, the more familiar he got.

“Go ahead,” Sam turned to Bucky. The Falcon walked over to Steve, Y/N watched as their interaction unfolded. She took Bucky’s hand, the couple looked at one another.

“You knew he wasn’t coming back, didn’t you?” That’s when it hit her. Steve hinted to her and she didn’t know. Bucky held onto his soulmate’s hand lightly, nodding. “Yeah... He deserves to be happy. Just like how I’m happy with you,” The Super Soldier leaned down, kissing Y/N’s lips softly.

“Five years, Bucky,” “I know, baby. I know. Nothing like that’s going to happen again. I promise you this,”

Y/N moved her arms around Bucky’s neck, embracing her soulmate tightly with the Super Soldier’s nose buried in her neck.

What happened for the past nine years was done. There was no changing it. Y/N has suffered just as much as Bucky did. How many times has Y/N lost her lover? How long did it take for destiny to bring two lost souls together again? Never again will the event of the blip happen again. Right now, Y/N Y/L/N treasured every moment she had with James Buchanan Barnes. 

After all, they were soulmates.

2nd A/N: I am also accepting request. I know I put a lot of gifs in but I love gifs >:))

[abbatoirablaze]

Bunk Mates, Chapter 8

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings:  mentions of drugs, smut, unprotected sex.

"Damn it," Captain Penisi growled at the rest of A shift as I put a fresh bandage on Granny, "I should have known my luck was gonna run out soon. Damn Christmastime is just around the corner."

"Chief, Christmas isn't until the end of the month," Ike said thoughtfully, "it's December 1st right now."

"I don't give a damn," he growled, scooting out of the room, “its around Christmastime.”

"What's with him?" I asked, moving onto Andy.

Granny shrugged, "Cap hates Christmas."

"Always has, always will," Andy added in. I sighed and cleaned Andy up a little before moving on to Ike, “he’s a scrooge when it comes to Christmas.”

"I can't believe that with all that muscle, you can't fight," I giggled, "I thought you said you and Mike used to wrestle around a lot as kids."

"We did," he said defensively, "he always won though."

"It's okay," I said playfully as I cleaned up the cut on the bridge of his nose. My hands rested on either side of his face. I slid in a playful wink, "I'll protect you."

He winced as I kissed the tip of his nose.

"Shit, I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he smiled. He took my hands away from his face, and pulled me into his lap, "Thank you for coming down and cleaning us up. I know you didn't have to on your day off."

"Oh please, you guys are my second favorite shift," I said, sticking my tongue out, “you know that.”

"How does C shift beat us?" Granny asked.

"Yeah, we are so much better."

"Yeah," Andy added in after Ike, "you're literally sleeping with him. What does C shift have on us that makes them so much better?"

"I mean I do work with them," I laughed, "and they kind of cover my ass."

"I bet Ike covers your ass."

"Hey!" he said, pointing at Penisi, "careful on that cap."

"Ikey is a little protective," I giggled, kissing his cheek, "don't poke that bear.  Or do…it only makes what happens behind closed doors all the more spicy.”

He let go of my hand as I got off his lap, and I grabbed all the supplies I'd used to clean the guys up.

"Hey, Lucy is leaving for vacation with some friends next week until the first of the year. Would you mind covering for her?"

"Where is she today?"

"Out with Chief McConkey. Terry is making sure she's set for her trip," Captain Penisi said, "but we need a full shift and I'd rather have you over any of the mutants on B shift."

"Is that okay with you, Ike?"

"Yeah," he smiled, "I'm so okay with us working together."

"Really?"

"Of course," he smiled, "we'd be on the same shift, and we could see each other all the time, instead of just on certain days...you know for at least the rest of the month."

"And it's okay with chief McConkey and Captain Tad?"

"I'll talk to Tad, and work something out," captain Penisi smiled, “don’t worry about it, kiddo.”

XX

"You know it's really weird to have Christmas eve off," he said as we cuddled up together on the couch. I nodded as the beginning of another Lifetime movie started, "do you want me to change the channel?"

"It's whatever you want to watch," I smiled against his chest. He rubbed my back, and I drew patterns on his chest, "I'm just glad we get to spend time together."

"Me too," he smiled, "I love that we get to do this."

He reached over and took his mug of hot chocolate and sipped on it. When he put it back, I felt him shift his body so that we were more in a sitting position and less sprawled out.

"What are you doing?" I giggled, "I was comfy."

"Sorry," he laughed, "I just...I wanted to give you your Christmas gift early"

"We're doing gifts now?" I asked.

"If you want."

"Okay," I nodded, happy that I'd packed a bag, "let me go get changed. I hopped off the couch and grabbed my bag. As I ran back past the living room, he was gone. I hurriedly changed into the Christmas lingerie and peeked out. He was still missing. I grabbed the tickets to the UFC fight he wanted to go to, and sat them, as well as myself beneath the tree.

Ike came into the room a second later, and it looked like his heart had stopped.  I smiled to myself, "Merry Christmas."

He slowly made his way over to me, and dropped to his knees, "babe, what are you doing?"

"Well," I said cheekily, "I'm gift number 1, and here's gift number 2."

I handed him the small card with the tickets. His jaw dropped when he saw them, "how did you...when? They've been sold out for weeks!"

"I got them from a friend," I smiled, "you'll be right up front. And there's three so you can take Granny and Andy. I know you guys have been talking about it for a while now."

"Alex," he gasped, "this is the most amazing gift I've ever gotten."

"Well, you're the most amazing gift the world has given me," I grinned. He leaned down towards me and placed a chaste kiss on my lips, “I just wanted to show you how grateful I am to have you.”

"I love you Alli."

"I love you too, Ike."

He drew my body closer to his, and we rolled around on the hardwood floor. I smiled as I was on top and straddled his hips.

"I like this." He smiled.

"Are you ready to unwrap the first part of your gift?" I giggled. He nodded, and I brought our lips back together. Moving delicately, I grinded my hips against his, and started lifting his shirt off. My breath hitched in my throat when he grasped my thigh. I moaned, "Ike."

"HEY BRO!" a voice yelled, bursting into the living room.

Fucking Mike.  

"I didn't plan on him staying with me for the week," he said defensively, "and I definitely didn't plan for him to interrupt our Christmas fun. I promise things are going to be different this time."

"Ike this is the second time he's shown up in the past few months completely unannounced, invading our space."

"He's my brother Alex," he groaned, "I can't just throw him out in the cold."

"I'm not saying that," I sighed, taking his hand in my own, "but doesn't he work at a college? Shouldn't he be teaching classes or something?"

"I guess."

"Well then why's he at your place, yet again?"

He sighed, "Susan and him are having issues. She doesn't like how much time he's away from home, so she kicked him out for a week. He's been talking to her every day though."

"Ike, I think your brother needs to go home," I muttered, “and he needs to leave us alone.”

"He didn't mean to walk in on you in the shower," he said, trying to defend his brother, “I don’t think he knew you were in there.”

"I was in the shower. He tried to join me, Ike."

"Maybe he just thought the water was running or something!"

"Luce?"

She shook her head, "I'm just here for the food and the sports."

"Andy?"

"It's not a common thing for people to just randomly leave the water on at a place." "Thank you."

"I don't know," he sighed, gripping the foam football a little tighter, "I just...can we not talk about this today? It's the Superbowl."

"Really, Ike?"

He made a gesture with his hands, shrugging his shoulders, and I shook my head.

"Fine."

"Fire commissioner Penisi is calling in the B shift early," Tad said over the phone.

"I know," I admitted, "I got a call from Vicky McConkey. The A shift put out a fire at the dispensary, but it left all of them high as kites. They can't finish their shift. I'm going to go pick Ike up from the hospital."

"A shift is the worst," he chuckled, “they can’t do anything right.”

"They can be."

"Are you alright though?" he asked, "I know things have been rocky with you and Crystal since his brother busted up your Christmas plans."

"Yeah," I sighed, "I just wish he and I had more alone time together. It feels like we never get to spend any time together anymore unless I'm bailing him out from the hospital, or his brother is interrupting our date night."

"Well, if there was a spot to open up on the A shift, would you want it?"

"Tad?" I asked, "what do you mean?"

"I would hate to lose you Boykins," he sighed through the phone, "You are an amazing firefighter...but at the same time, I know how serious you and Crystal are getting. If a position opened up on the A shift, would you want me to put you up for it?"

"I love you guys on the C shift," I admitted, "I wouldn't ask that of you, cap."

"We love you too, like a little sister, Boykins."

I smiled at the thought. The fact that my captain asked me if I wanted to move to a different shift to help my relationship made me really grateful that I was part of his team. But I couldn't do that to him. I couldn't do that to the guy. They really were like a second family to me, and it just wouldn't be right to pull that kind of thing on them.

"Miss, I'm sorry but you'll have to turn off your phone."

"Sorry Tad," I sighed, "I'm at the hospital. Gotta turn it off for a bit."

"Alright," he replied, "let me know when you get Crystal home safe and sound."

"Will do."

We both disconnected, and I turned back towards the nurse, "I got a call from Vicky McConkey. My boyfriend is one of the firefighters, Ike Crystal. Do you know which room he's in?"

She nodded, and looked at her computer, "second floor, room 19. The rest of the Tacoma FD is on that floor as well."

"Thanks."

I took the elevator up to the second floor, and when the doors opened, I was face to face with all of the guys joking around. Vicky smiled when she saw me.

"Thank god, keeping these boys reigned in is no easy task."

"ALEX!" Ike exclaimed. He rushed up and hugged me, "oh my god, I'm so excited to see you."

"Ike how high are you?"

"They are very high," Vicky laughed, "they just ate a feast big enough to feed half of the hospital. I was taking them back to their rooms for some rest."

"Oh Alex," Ike grinned, "let me show you my room!"

"Is that okay?"

Vicky nodded, and Ike dragged me down the hall, before stopping, "I don't remember what room I'm in."

He started laughing maniacally, and I patted his chest, "come on big guy."

"Hey how do you know where I was?"

I laughed, "Vicky called me. The nurse told me what room you're in babe. You need to sleep this off."

"I will."

He let me lead him to the bed, but stopped when I went to tuck him in, "what's wrong Ike?"

"Don't leave!"

"I won't leave," I replied. I pointed to the chair beside the bed, "I'll literally be right there. I just have to sign some papers to get you released first."

"No," he pleaded, pulling me towards him. He scooted over and pulled me into the bed, until I was against his chest, "don't leave me...please Alex." 

We didn't talk about it all that much, but it felt like we had grown closer together since the dispensary. Ike had become extremely attentive to our relationship, so much so, that he made Mike go back home to his wife. He and I had begun to talk about moving in together too.

Things were beginning to get more serious...and I was really riding that high.

I wanted a future with Ike. He made me feel so happy.

"Babe?"

"In the kitchen!"

"Hey," he said, walking into my place. He kissed me on the cheek as I stirred some sauce, "oh. You making dinner?"

"Yeah," I nodded, "I remembered you said you were really in the mood for chicken parm this morning, so I went to the store. That okay?"

"That sounds perfect," he grinned. He reached up to the cabinets and grabbed us some plates, and then into the drawers and grabbed some silverware, "do you need any help making it?"

"No," I said, shaking my head. He wrapped his arms around my waist, and kissed the back of my neck, and to the edge of my shoulder. A shiver went up my spine as his mustache tickled me, "Ike."

"Yeah?"

"Dinner will be ready in five minutes," I said trying to change the subject and remove myself from how turned on he was getting me, “that okay?”

"Okay." he whispered against my neck. He gave my shoulders one final kiss before disappearing, muttering something about getting a shower. When I heard him head up the stairs, I sighed to myself, realizing how out of breath I was. How he managed to get me all worked up in such a short amount of time was both a mystery and amazing to me.

I finished up dinner and got two plates and glasses of wine ready. It was a very nice dinner. We split the bottle of wine and began to get more and more giggly with every glass. I cleaned up our plates, and as I came back into the living room, he was popping another bottle.

"You want to open another one up?" I giggled. He nodded, chuckling to himself, and poured us fresh glasses, "are you trying to get me drunk, Ike?"

"No," he laughed, sipping the wine from his own glass, "maybe I just wanted to have a nice, relaxing night with my girlfriend."

"I like the sound of that very much," I giggled, taking a drink from his glass before putting it down. I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him, “tonight’s been perfect.”

He deepened the kiss, turning us so that I was against the couch. He sat me on the arm of it and wedged his body between my legs. Pressing our bodies closer I could feel the full length of his now hardening member against my inner thigh.

"Ike," I gasped, “I-“

“Yes?” he smiled.

My hands reached down and began massaging him through his pants. He moaned against my lips and bucked his hips toward me. I moaned and he grinned ear to ear. His lips made their way away from mine as he started trailing along my jaw and down my neck. Stopping at my sweet spot, I felt his hand go between my legs, and push my underwear to the side. He began rubbing small circles on my clit as he nibbled on my neck. I felt my pulse throbbing from my neck, racing fast. My wetness intensified as he chuckled against my throat. He inserted a finger into me, and my back arched.

"Ike."

"Alex," he smiled, “so perfect.”

I reconnected our lips again. Our tongues fought for dominance, and I won out, until he added a second finger, and began pumping them deep into me.

"Fuck," I moaned, breaking the kiss. He groaned, looking at me dead in the eye.  I grabbed his wrist, “d-don’t stop…please.”

"Say it," he pleaded, pumping into me again, “say it, baby.”

"I need you."

"When?"

"Now," I pleaded, “please, Ike.”

He kissed me once more, and my hands wrestled with his jeans. I needed that denim to disappear, and for my boyfriend to be buried inside me.

"What do you want," he whispered against my throat, “tell me what you need, Alex.”

"You."

He pulled my underwear off, shredding the flimsy thong.

"Who do you want?"

My legs pushed his jeans down, and his fully hardened member pushed against me, the only thing between us was his own underwear.

"You."

"What do you want me to do?

"Make love to me."

It meant to sound strong...but it came out like a pained whimper.

I needed every inch of him, and he knew it. He was teasing me, but I just wanted it. He knew I was craving him.

"Alex," he whispered against me, his breath fanning across my chest.  It sent another shiver up my spine and his face buried itself into my neck, “I love you, Alex.”

My hands were all over his chest, as he balanced us out with one hand on my hip, and the other around his member.

Without warning he pushed into me.

The shiver turned into fireworks going off at every nerve in my body. I arched my back. My left hand scratched down his chest, and the right went to dig into his shoulder. He slammed into me, hard and deep.

"Tell me what you want."

"Every inch of you," I pleaded, "fuck. Please. Don't stop. Ike. Fuck." 

Chapter 9

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Out Of Time ~ 112

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,900ish

Summary: Captain America: Civil War --- tread carefully.

Steve landed the quinjet as Bucky and Y/N grabbed weapons. 

“You shouldn’t come in with us,” Bucky muttered, shaking his head. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Too bad,” Y/N responded, slipping guns into the holster of her suit, that was thankfully in the quinjet. “I’m coming.”

Bucky sighed before looking up at Y/N. “I’m not the same man you knew.”

“I’m not the same woman. But…” Y/N stepped forward, took Bucky’s metal hand, and held it to her chest. “You’re still my Bucky.”

Bucky studied her eyes for a second before swiftly putting his free hand on the back of her head and pulling her in to meet his lips. She was shocked, not kissing back for a few, before remembering how much she loved the feeling of his lips on hers. He was the one to end the kiss, stepping away and breaking all physical contact with her.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” Bucky apologized. “I’m not in the correct mindset.”

He quickly made his way over to the back of the quinjet, waiting for the ramp to lower. Y/N joined him before Steve left the pilot’s chair and stood in the middle of them as the ramp lowered.

“You remember that time we had to ride back from Rockaway Beach in the back of that freezer truck?” Steve asked.

“Was that the time we used our train money to buy hot dogs?” Bucky questioned.

“Yes,” Y/N answered, with a reminiscent smile.

“You blew three bucks trying to win that stuffed bear for a redhead,” Steve continued.

“What was her name again?” Bucky asked.

“Dolores,” Y/N responded. “You called her Dot.”

“She’s gotta be a hundred years old right now.”

“So are we, pal,” Steve said, clamping his hand on Bucky’s shoulders. 

The three of them looked at each other before Steve slipped his helmet on and they exited the quinjet. It was cold, the wind blowing harshly as snow covered the ground. Bucky led them to the entrance, set in rock. The door was open.

“He can’t have been here more than a few hours,” Steve said as they stared at the door.

“Long enough to wake them up,” Bucky said. Both men looked over to Y/N. 

“Last chance. I really wish—“

“Save it Steve. You know I’m not leaving,” Y/N retorted.

Both men sighed. “Then no powers unless it’s absolutely necessary. I don’t need you throwing up in the middle of a fight.”

Y/N gave a small nod before Steve led them in, her in the middle and Bucky tailing. They entered a small elevator. She watched as the men nodded at each other while the elevator went down. Once it rattled to a stop, the men heaved up the doors. Steve held up his shield as the other two held up their guns, walking along a corridor, keeping close to a wall. 

The trio headed up a flight of stairs, Bucky leading, Y/N in the middle, and Steve at the end, when they heard a noise from behind them. They swiftly spun around, aiming down the corridor. Still keeping his gun up, Bucky gently pushed Y/N down so that she was more hidden.

“You ready?” Steve asked.

“Yeah,” Bucky responded. 

The three held their positions as the creaking of the doors at the end of the corridor continued. The double doors part, forced open by Iron Man. Both Steve and Y/N stared in surprise. Tony walked towards them, retracting the suits helmet.

“You seem a little defensive,” Tony commented. 

Steve got up and walked towards Tony, keeping his shield up. Tony eyed Y/N who was slowly following.

“It’s been a long day,” Steve replied.

“At ease, Soldier,” Tony said. “I’m not currently after you.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Could be your story’s not so crazy. Maybe. My girl friend also wasn’t at the place that I left her. Figured she was with you.”

“Tony—“

“Ross has no idea I’m here,” Tony cut Y/N off to continue. He lended his shoulder against a large cement post. “I’d like to keep it that way. Otherwise, I gotta arrest myself.”

“Well, that sounds like a lot of paperwork,” Steve said, lowing his shield. It’s good to see you, Tony.”

“You too, Cap. Hey, Manchurian Candidate, you're killing me. There's a truce here. You can drop.”

Steve signals Bucky to lower his weapon, in which he does. Y/N walked up to Tony, hesitantly.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Nat called and warned me. I had to come help.”

Tony stared at her, studying her carefully for a moment. He had a feeling for a few days now that something was up, something besides the Accords. He just couldn’t figure out what.

“I’m sorry too,” he said quietly, pulling her into his arms. He held a kiss to her head. Bucky tensed at the gesture, which Tony noticed. “Alright, let’s go.”

Tony put his helmet back over his face and the four of them cautiously walked further into the bunker. The three men were positioned so that Y/N was in the middle of them. Iron Man was leading the way towards an enormous chamber with capsules standing in it.

“I got heat signatures,” Tony stated.

“How many?” Steve asked.

Tony paused before answering, “Uh, one.”

As the entered the chamber, the lights turned on. A hazy, yellow mist descended within the capsules around the room. Each capsule contained a soldier. They all looked around, bewildered.

“If it’s any comfort,” Helmut Zemo’s voice came over a speaker, “they died in their sleep.”

They all walked around, staring at the soldiers that had each been shot in the head.

“Do you really think I wanted more of you?” Zemo continued.

“What the hell?” Bucky muttered.

“I'm grateful to them, though. They brought you here.” 

Zemo appeared in the control room, through a small window. Tony lifted up his hand as Steve threw his shield, but it bounced back.

“Please, Captain,” Zemo taunted. “The The Soviets built this chamber to withstand the launch blast of UR-100 rockets.”

“I’m betting I could beat that,” Tony retorted. The four of them rounded the center consul so that they could be closer to Zemo.

“Oh, I'm sure you could, Mr. Stark. Given time. But then you'd never know why you came.”

“You killed innocent people in Vienna just to bring us here?” Steve questioned. Staring Zemo straight on.

“I thought about nothing else for over a year. I studied you. I followed you. But now that you're standing here, I just realized . . . there's a bit of green in the blue of your eyes. How nice to find a flaw.”

“You're Sokovian,” Y/N stated, coming closer. “Is that what this is about?”

“Sokovia was a failed state long before you blew it to hell. No. I'm here because I made a promise.”

“You lost someone?” Steve wondered.

Zemo, looking grave, clicked his tongue. "I lost everyone. And so will you.” A screen suddenly turned on, bringing everyone’s attentions to it. “An empire toppled by its enemies can rise again. But one which crumples from within? That's dead . . . forever.”

They all moved over and looked at the screen. The frozen frame of a secluded road and the date, December 16, 1991. Tony’s face helmet disappeared, his eyes briefly met Y/n’s before flickering back to the screen that began to play.

“I know that road,” Tony stated, anxiously. “What is this?”

All eyes were now on the screen. A car came into the frame, crashing into a tree. Y/N watched as someone road up on a motor cycle and got off. The Winter Soldier. Steve watched Tony’s increasing unease. The driver got out of the car, crawling on the ground.

“Howard,” Y/N gasped quietly, eyes brimming with tears.

“Help me wife,” Howard begged on the video. “Please. Help.” The Winter Soldier walked over and hoisted him up by his hair. “Sergeant Barnes?”

“Howard!” Maria called. 

Tony looked up and glared at Bucky, before his eyes found their way back to the screen. Y/N was unable to take her eyes off the screen, her heart began racing. On the screen, the Winter Soldier lifted his metal fist.

“Wait!” Howard begged, hand digging into his suit coat. “You don’t want to do this, Barnes. Look.” Howard pulled out the photo of him and Y/N dancing. “We knew each other… You know her… Remember.”

Y/N heart clenched as a sob torn through her. Her hand came up to her mouth, trying to keep it quiet.

“Please don’t,” Howard continued. “Remember Y/N at least.”

After a brief glance at the photo, the Winter Soldier punched Howard over and over.

“Howard!” Maria called again.

Howard slumped over, dead. The Winter Soldier put him in the driver’s seat, face against the steering wheel. He walked around the the passenger side, where Maria was located. The Soldier reached in and gripped her throat, expressionless as he strangled Maria. The Winter Soldier then walked up and aimed a gun at the surveillance camera, ending the feed.

Y/N’s heart was beating rapidly. It was the only thing she could hear. Her breathing was becoming increasingly unsteady. Losing her balance, she backed up into the wall and slid down it. Steve kept his eyes on Tony, who lunged towards Bucky.

“Tony, Tony,” Steve said, stopping him.

Tony looked at Steve, clearly consumed with grief and tears glistening in his eyes. “Did you know?” Tony asked, trying to control his emotions. 

“I didn’t know it was him.”

“Don't bullshit me, Rogers! Did you know?”

“Yes.” 

Tony stepped back, chin jutting up in a twitch. Looking over at Y/N, he sees her struggling with this as well, making him realize that she didn’t know either. Tony reengaged his helmet. He punched Steve to the floor and deflected gunfire from Bucky, disarming him. Grabbing Bucky, he flew across the chamber, slamming Bucky onto the floor. Tony pinned Bucky’s arms down but was unable to fire because Steve threw his shield at him.

Steve barged Tony backwards. Tony then shouldered Steve to the floor, shackling his ankles. Bucky came back up and punched Tony, who just listed him and slammed him against a machine. Tony raised a fist, but Bucky twisted it. A rocket shot out from the Iron Man suit, a fireball exploding. Steve sliced his shackles as a towering structure of pipework collapsed.

Barely registering what was happening around her, Y/N was quickly thrown back into her senses, as pieces of metal began to fall around her, boxing her into the corner. 

“Ah!” She screamed.

Bucky and Tony were thrown to the ground by the metal, not hearing her screams. Steve though, did.

“No,” he whispered. Steve and Bucky stood up, making eye contact. “Find Y/N and get out of here!”

Bucky nodded. He quickly found her, throwing the metal to the side.

“I’ve got you, Y/N/N,” Bucky said quietly. “I’m so sorry.”

Y/N shaking in his hold as Bucky rushed towards the wall with the lowest platform. He hit a control panel, opening the over head roof. Tony shot at them, thankfully missing, before Steve landed in front of him. 

“It wasn’t him, Tony,” Steve stated. “HYDRA had control of his mind!”

“Move!” Tony ordered, hovering. He began to fly over Steve.

“It wasn’t him!”

Steve grabbed onto Tony’s ankle in mid air, smashing the bottom of the boot. They fought while Bucky was trying his best to make his way up the platforms with an almost unresponsive Y/N in his arms. He began to notice that the trembling was increasing and that she was sweating everywhere.

Tony unsteadily soared upwards as Bucky jumped across to another platform, Y/n still in his arms. Tony kicked Bucky down, causing him to let go of Y/n, who rolled away. Tony then took aim but Steve quickly jumped in front of Bucky, using his shield to rebound the energy back to Tony. He dropped, landing on a lowering platform.

“He’s not going to stop,” Steve stated, helping Bucky up. “Go.”

“Steve, it’s too dangerous for me to take Y/N,” Bucky worried. “Look.”

Steve looked over to see Y/N shaking, with sweat dripping down her forehead.

“I’ve got her,” Steve stated. “Go.”

Bucky ran and Steve leaped over and shot a wire around Tony’s neck, dragging him down. Tony deflected Steve’s shield, before trying to target Bucky.

“Come on, come on,” Tony muttered.

“Targeting system’s knackered, boss,” FRIDAY warned.

“I’m eyeballing it.”

Tony’s helmet retracted and he shut one eye, taking aim at the opening hatch. He fired, hitting the giant hinge and cutting off Bucky’s escape route. Tony then flew up, blocking two swings from an iron pipe Bucky was trying to use. Tony grabbed Bucky around the neck from behind.

“Do you even remember them?” Tony asked.

“I remember all of them,” Bucky replied.

Bucky pushed them both of the walkway. Steve jumped into them to deflect their fall. Bucky landed on a platform while Tony and Steve landed on the concrete floor besides an opening in the wall where snow drifts in. Finally hearing more of the commotion, Y/N pushed herself up, looking over the side.

“No,” she panted. 

The three men she loved most in the world where fighting each other and she had no strength to stop them. She winced as she felt a cramp in her lower abdomen. 

“No, no, no,” she whispered frantically. 

Pushing herself up, she shakily jumped down from platform to platform as the men still fought.

“This isn’t gonna change what happened,” Steve said to Tony.

“I don’t care,” Tony replied. “He killed my mom.”

The two began going at each other, with Bucky shown joining in. Y/N got down to their level as Bucky was blasted away from Tony, his metal arm blowing off. Tony zapped him again, throwing him to the side. Y/N rushed as quick as she could over to him.

“B-bucky,” she called, collapsing beside him. “Bucky, please…”

Bucky coughed up some blood. “Go,” he groaned. “You have to get out of here.”

“But you’re all killing each other.”

“And you shouldn’t have to see that… go… please…. I love you.”

“Bucky, I—“

“Go.”

With an unsteady inhale and a nod, Y/N opened a portal to the quinjet. She knew she couldn’t get much further than that. Closing it, she fell onto the ground. She had no more energy to move but her body still forced her to vomit. Y/N couldn’t focus on anything around her, black spots filling her vision. With one more heave, she blacked out.

~~~

Tony and Steve were both panting as Steve ripped the shield out of Tony’s suit and helped Bucky up. They began to walk away, leaving Tony on the ground.

“That shield doesn’t belong to you,” Tony said. “My father made that shield!”

Pausing, Steve raised his chin before dropping the shield. He walked around, with Bucky’s arm around his shoulder, leaving Tony to stare at the shield. Panting, he watched it until something suddenly hit him.

“Y/N,” he gasped. “No.” He pushed himself up. “Y/N!” 

He called her name as she walked around, searching for her. Tony feared ash something terrible had happened to her or that she had gone with Steve and Bucky. He eventually, after almost an hour, gave up the search and headed out of the bunker. Tony was thankful to still see a quinjet here. As he entered the jet, he saw a body laying in the middle of it.

“Y/N… Baby?” 

Tony slowly limped over to her. As he drew closer, he noticed the blood seeping from somewhere in between her legs. He rushed to kneel next to her. 

“Honey,” he tried to be gentle but firm as he turned her over from the vomit she was in and patted her cheek. “Y/N, please.” 

But nothing. He quickly moved to find where the blood was coming from. There was no gash, no wound. As he ran through all the possible things, Tony’s mind came to one solution. 

“No,” he whispered. “No, no, no.” 

He hurried and got the quinjet into the air and set for the compound before getting out of his battle torn suit. Tony then took Y/N into his arms, rocking her as he begged for her to wake. 

“I can’t lose more than I already have… I’m so sorry…” 

Dr. Cho was already there waiting for the quinjet when they landed back at the compound. Her and her people rushed Y/N away from Tony. He watched helplessly, falling onto his knees as tears trailed down his cheeks. And he did the one thing he’d never done before in his life. Tony Stark prayed. 

“Please God… don’t take them from me… I’ll be better, work harder… I’ll do anything. I’ll give anything. Including my own life… Just don’t take them from me. I’m begging you… I-I-I didn’t even know… I didn’t even know…”

next chapter >

I’ll see you guys after Disney World! I’ll still be responding to asks and comments!

NOTES: from now on the taglist when be added by a reblog. I will reblog it using my second account, @just-dreaming-marvel-2​​​. Just so that my main page doesn’t get too cluttered.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

[willexmagic]

Willie’s very forgetful.

If anyone asks, Willie tells them it comes with the fact that he’s been dead for forty years and sometimes little half-memories will slip through the cracks, washing away in the onslaught of California rain. But Willie still feels the phantom touch of his mother wrapping a chain with a key around his neck and patting his cheek, her thumb rubbing gently against his cheekbone as she sent off a little ten year old boy with unruly hair and cherry socks out on his first joyride on a rickety little board.

(keep reading on AO3 or under the read more)

When that little boy grew older and his mother got busy or didn’t care as much or maybe a little bit of both, he kept an old marker in his pocket, the clip having long since snapped off. He’d leave doodles across his arms, little messages and reminders written in his scrawled, half-illegible handwriting.

Even now, Willie still finds the marker in his pocket. He hasn’t had a need for it in a while, never having anything important or meaningful worth jotting down, but just uncapping it brings back that sharp smell that lifts him out of a fog, and as he spins it around in his fingers on days when he feels lost and alone and a little less human, the faded stormy gray of the ink rubbed across the surfaces of the museum makes Willie feel a bit less lonesome. Like he’s left a mark skipping across the limbo he exists in for someone, somewhere to find the jumbled thoughts of a ghost boy and wonder who he was.

Maybe other people will remember him when he forgets about himself.

Although one day, after forty long years, his fingers move on their own accord. His thumb slips against the edge of the cap, popping it off and revealing the tip, and in the crook of his arm he writes, meet the boys where alex and i met at eight.

Willie doesn’t think he’ll forget. Not after Caleb pestered him about making sure everything was perfect, not after Dante triple-checked his reservation with him, definitely not after the quick bounce of his head that Alex gave him, that one shake removing a few strands of golden blonde hair from their neatly tucked position behind his ear. Willie definitely doesn’t think he’ll forget the way they shook in the wind, enjoying their newfound freedom.

But it’s nice to remember.

And Willie finds that Alex is something he wants to remember.

During another late night when he’s alone in the museum, his back against the cold stone floor and feet resting on his skateboard, bored after hours of journeying through his makeshift home, he finds himself etching drawings and notes across his arms.

A baseball cap against his palm, resting backwards.

i would’ve still followed you like a lifeline across his veins, the emotions behind their meaning flowing through him like his blood did, once.

Dates, scribbled in the nooks and crannies of his joints. The day he met Alex, the day they first went to the museum, the day he found out Alex was free and they crashed into each other, clinging as tightly as the first hug but comfortable in the knowledge that they’d get to hold onto the warmth this time.

Funny, how Willie never used to keep track before. June would slip into December and 1992 would slip into 2007 and he never bothered to care, never bothered to take note of the world moving around without him.

But Alex slowed time down, and Willie wanted to remember it.

The boy in question poofs in so suddenly that the marker slips from its home in between Willie’s fingers, the doodle he was in the middle of working on suddenly and abruptly halted in progress.

He lets the marker roll to a stop as he tilts his head down to look at where Alex has his resting against his torso. He quirks an eyebrow up, asking a silent question, and Alex releases a long sigh. “Nothing to do.”

Willie knows Alex’s language, and so he knows that nothing to do really means questioning his existence in the universe at two in the morning when the world decided it wouldn’t give an anxious ghost the small comfort of being able to turn off your brain for eight hours a day.

But maybe the world did give Alex some sort of comfort, because Willie watches the mild panic fade into curiosity as Alex’s gaze travels up Willie’s arm. “What’re doing?” he asks, voice low as if he wants to hold this conversation close.

Willie blinks, not realizing Alex hasn’t ever seen him make notes before. He wonders what’s going through the boy’s mind as his eyes freeze on the words Willie had written just moments before: thank you, willie.

“Just doodling,” Willie answers, as if the word doodling encapsulates the way writing down these memories feels like reliving the warmth that spreads through his limbs at the way Alex says his name, like it’s a treat, a candy for the tongue to savor.

“Isn’t all this ink bad for you?” Alex asks, his eyebrows furrowing as he thinks of the toxins a boy from the 80s wouldn’t know about.

“Dude, we’re dead,” Willie reminds him. He reaches for the marker, pressing it into Alex’s callused palm. “I think you’ll be alright.”

Willie’s expecting Alex to inspect the marker, perhaps try to unravel the secrets of how it’s still working and not run out of ink by now. Or maybe Alex will draw something on his own arm, a doodle of his drums or his bracelet or maybe a reminder that he’s got band rehearsal tomorrow.

What Willie doesn’t expect is for Alex to turn his body slightly, rest his fingers carefully on the exposed skin of Willie’s stomach where his crop top has ridden up. The touch sends chills through his entire body, leaving him with that fuzzy warmth he so often associates with Alex’s company.

Alex presses the marker on his skin, writes carefully in a slow, neat print, mindful as to not press too hard and unintentionally hurt Willie.

He leaves behind three words.

i love you.

[redgillan]

Under Pastel Skies - 6

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 4,327

Warnings: panic attacks, Bucky recalls his accident

A/N: I don’t have much to say, Bucky’s real emotional in this one. I hope you enjoy this chapter :’) 

Wannabe sugar daddies don’t interact, idc if you have money, eat it and leave me be.

Everywhere Bucky looked his eyes and ears were assaulted by a cacophony of sounds and colours. Red and green baubles hung from the ceiling, shimmering like disco balls and sending sparkles around the mall.

The air smelled like pine and cinnamon, something he usually liked, but it was so pungent and unpleasant that it made his stomach churn and bile rise up his throat. He tried to breathe through his mouth, forcing oxygen into his lungs.

Flashes of silver and gold momentarily blinded him, and as someone walked past him, their shopping bag knocked against his leg. It didn’t hurt but it made him seethe with misplaced anger. Beads of sweat broke out on the back of his neck.

Christmas carols played over the mall speakers, more specifically Jingle Bells which they played three times in less than an hour. Enough, enough, enough. He was suffocating, unable to breathe. He felt too big for his own skin, he needed to escape.

Then he felt your hand at the small of his back, guiding him toward what looked like a furniture store. He followed blindly, his vision blurry and unfocused, and sat down when you gently pushed him down onto a sofa.

Bucky shut his eyes and let his head fall back against the cushion. A woman came up and asked if you needed help but you told her that everything was fine. The buzzing in his ears made the voices around him strangely soothing, as if he was underwater. Now that he was sitting down, he felt a lot better.  

You didn’t try to touch him, something he was very grateful for. He could feel your weight shift next to him and knowing you were there was enough. He focused on you –your heat, your voice, the smell of your shampoo- and his breathing slowly returned to normal.

“Sorry,” he breathed out with a small smile, his head lolling to one side to look at you. “I ruined our shopping spree.”

The fear and panic had dissipated, leaving him cold, exhausted and craving skin to skin contact. He took your hand and linked your fingers together. Your hands were freezing cold.

“You didn’t ruin anything.”

He snorted. “Yeah, I did.” A sad smile curved his lips, he needed to change the subject. “Do you celebrate Christmas?”

You sank further into the sofa cushion sitting shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand.

“We celebrated so many different holidays,” you said. “Perks of growing up in a multicultural family. Christmas was wild though. One tree, five kids. That poor thing never stood a chance. Now I don’t really celebrate anything. December used to be so much fun, now it’s just not the same.”

“We should create our own holiday,” Bucky suggested, squeezing your hand.

“Aren’t you going to see your family?”

“Nah,” he replied with a yawn. “My sister is taking her kids somewhere warm, and my parents are traveling the country in their RV. You can invite your siblings if you want.”

“They’re not available.”

Bucky tried to decipher the expression on your face. Every time you talked about your siblings, you had a faraway look in your eyes, as though you were reliving a memory. He couldn’t tell what you were thinking but your face twisted into a painful grimace. Then suddenly it was gone.

“I want a tree.”

He watched you with a lazy smile. “I’ll get you a tree.”

You pulled him up to his feet and decided it was time to go home. Home. It still made Bucky weirdly warm inside when you called his apartment ‘home’. You crossed the mall, your arm looped through his as you walked, and took a cab to Brooklyn.

He almost fell asleep from the gentle rocking of the car moving through the streets of Manhattan. When he glanced at you, you were looking out your window watching the snow fall.

You’d been living together for almost two months now and Bucky couldn’t have picked a better roommate. He liked the way you sang in the shower, loud, cheerful and most definitely off-key. He liked that you had more pyjamas than every day clothes. He liked watching you paint from the living room, and it always made him laugh when you added weird things to his grocery list.

He could go to bed and sleep the whole night without waking up, feeling safer knowing someone else was there. Of course, not everything was perfect but it was close enough.

He woke up on the sofa a few hours later, still dressed and with a fluffy blanket thrown over him. The sun was setting, painting the sky with reds and oranges. He basked in the setting sun, a content smile on his face, before he sat up.

The TV was on, the volume low, and you were sitting cross-legged on the floor between the sofa and the coffee table going through a bunch of old photographs. Bucky looked around the room, taking in the new furniture and decor.

There was a comfortable armchair in front of the gas burning fireplace. Your book was resting on the seat of the armchair. You had also bought a lot of decorative pillows, some were pretty funny like the one that looked like a giant cookie.

“Whatcha doing?” he asked, his voice gruff with sleep.

You looked over your shoulder at him. “Hey, you’re awake! I bought some picture frames. I thought it’d make this place look less like a high end furniture store.”

“I liked it better when you thought this apartment was amazing.”

You laughed. “I still do, but it’s a bit... soulless.” You tilted your head back, looking at him upside down. “Sorry.”

“Gotta call a spade a spade,” he said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “All right, well, while you do that I’m going to start dinner.”

He pushed off the sofa but you caught his wrist before he could leave. “I’m already done. I’ve left some frames for you.”

“I already have lots of pictures upstairs.”

“I know, but no one ever goes upstairs,” you replied, letting go of his wrist. “And you’re not in any of the photos.”

Bucky’s eyes were drawn to the picture you were holding. It must have been taken on the day of your high school graduation, you were dressed in a cap and gown, smiling with your whole face. He’d never seen you smile like that. He recognized Peggy Carter right away, her hair was more silver-white than brown and there were deep wrinkles around her eyes.

Your mom wasn’t looking at the camera, she was scolding the young man who was giving you bunny ears. The man was grinning mischievously at the camera. Bucky couldn’t tell how old he was, he appeared to be either twenty or fifty.

There were two other women wearing sundresses, one had long brown hair, the other had twisted her hair into Bantu knots. A young man with dyed silver hair and dark roots was squatting in front of you, his arms crossed over his chest à la Backstreet Boys.

“You should frame this one,” he said, sitting on the floor next to you.

You shrugged. “I don’t know. It makes me kinda sad.”

Bucky learned not to dwell on the past. It hadn’t been easy but it would have been impossible to heal without the support of his friends and family. Grief manifests itself in a number of ways, it’s raw and complex, and comes from your soul. 

Bucky had a deep love for his childhood, especially his college years, but while he would cherish this time forever, he had accepted that he was a different person. He wasn’t the same naïve, youthful man he used to be, and it wasn’t a bad thing.

But he also knew that some people live in the past. It makes them feel alive.

“Y’know,” he started, meeting your eyes with a smile. “My hair used to be pretty long. I think I still have some photos in a folder somewhere.”

You clasped your hands together in a silent prayer. “Bucky, I’m going to be honest with you,” you deadpanned. “I need to see those pictures. I need them now. It’s a matter of life and death.”

He rolled his eyes while he got to his feet. “You’re so dramatic. I’ll go get ‘em.”

Bucky took the stairs up to his office and came back a few minutes later with a laptop under his arm. He sat on the floor next to you and set the laptop on his lap.

“You promise you won’t make fun of me?”

“Absolutely,” you replied, mimicking a Cheshire cat grin.

He sighed and tried to look stern but it was nearly impossible. You were too lovely, and he couldn’t help but smile. He opened up the laptop and glanced at you from the corner of his eye; you were practically vibrating.

He started going through the photos when he found one of himself at a party. He was in his early twenties, slumped in a chair, his eyes glassy and unfocused. In the next one he had been joined by two equally drunk women, and he was now roaring at the camera.

“Early twenties, two arms, and not a care in the world,” he said with a little sigh.

You leaned forward, your elbow resting on the coffee table. “Looks like you were having fun.”

“College was a lot of fun,” Bucky said, grinning to himself.

“What was your major?”

“English,” he replied. “I was a really good student, I could have chosen anything but there were more girls studying literature so I enrolled as an English major.”

“Wait!” You recoiled as if you had misheard him. “Did you really choose English because there were more girls?”

He made a funny grimace, and his nose scrunched up a bit as he mulled it over. “Yeah... my priorities were a bit mixed up. Hormones and all.”

You lowered your face into your hand and laughed. When you looked up at him, he was sporting his boyish grin and you shook your head at him.

In the next picture, he was clad in a black university graduation gown standing next to a blond man also dressed in a black gown. They were smiling, sunglasses perched on their nose.

“When I graduated, I had no idea what to do with a BA in English,” Bucky said after taking a long look at the photo. “The thing is, I never found my life’s calling. In high school I didn’t know what job I wanted to do, or what really motivated me, and to be honest I never really thought about it. I figured I’d find my passion in college but...” he trailed off with a shrug. “You’re lucky to have found your passion.”

“Is that why you want to help me?” you asked. “Because I found my calling and I wasn’t pursuing it.”

He tilted his head to one side, considering. “Yes, I guess that’s part of the reason why I want to help you.” He took a shuddering breath.

“Turns out I wasn’t the only one struggling to keep my head above water.” He pressed his index finger to the computer screen. “This is Steve, my oldest friend. He had just started working as a professional freelance photographer. I had nothing to do so I decided to help him build his portfolio. You’re an artist, I’m sure you know that a portfolio will make or break you.”

“It shows what you’ve accomplished, the skills you mastered,” you said, nodding. “Your potential employers will want to see your portfolio.”

“Exactly, and you have to show them your best work. In Steve’s case, it meant taking risks. No matter how talented you are, no one’s gonna pay you for a shot of the Brooklyn Bridge. It’s gorgeous but it’s not rare.”

“So what did he do?”

“We decided to climb Mount Everest.” He mechanically rubbed his stump and your eyes followed his movement. “It might’ve been the dumbest idea we’ve ever had but it sort of made sense at the time. Steve needed a challenging project and I was trying to find my purpose. We trained for a year, put money aside and took a loan. We were young, we thought we were invincible.

“The thing is,” he continued, “Mount Everest is the most famous mountain in the world. It’s crowded and only half the climbers reach the summit. A lot of people die.” He took a small pause. “Sometimes they can’t remove their bodies and they become landmarks. Our Sherpa told us about this man, they call him Green Boots. He’s sort of curled up in a fetal position near what they call Green Boots’ cave. When you walk past him, it looks like he’s just sleeping and because it’s so cold out there he’s actually well-preserved.”

“Oh, God.”

“Yeah, it’s awful,” Bucky let out a small, humourless laugh. “When I fell, I dislocated my arm and it pinched my axillary artery completely closed. It cut off circulation. That’s why they had to amputate. I was just lying there, too weak to call for help, watching people walk past me. They thought I was dead. And I remember thinking, ‘I’m going to die here. I’m going to die here and people will refer to me as Blue Jacket.’ Then Steve and the Sherpa found me, and Steve carried me on his back until they found a shelter. When the rescue team arrived, it was too late to save my arm.”

He went through the photos in silence and glared at the screen without really seeing it, his mind far away. On the screen, there was an endless stream of blurry smiles and blue eyes but he couldn’t look away. His thoughts cleared up when he felt the back of your knuckles along his cheek and jaw.

He unclenched his teeth, feeling the pain in his jaw. You brushed your fingers through his hair, pushing it off his forehead. You mindlessly played with the curl on top of his head and raked your fingernails gently over his scalp. When you spoke, your voice was just a soft whisper.

“Come back to me.”

Bucky forced his eyes shut and swallowed past the lump in his throat, tears pooling on his lower lashes. He took a deep breath and released it slowly. After a moment, he felt his body beginning to relax.

“How do you do that?” he asked in a pleading voice, turning his head to look at you. “How do you quiet the noise in my head?”

The question caught you off guard but you recovered quickly. You took his arm and draped it over your shoulders. “I don’t know,” you said, snuggling into his side. “It’s your second panic attack today. Did I push you too hard?”

“No.” His response was immediate. “I don’t like winter. It’s freezing cold and it gets dark at three thirty. Not my favorite time of the year.”

“But this helps, right?” you asked, waving your hand back and forth in the space between you.

He chuckled. “Yeah, it helps a lot.”

“Good.” You snuggled a little closer.

“But since you’re hoarding my arm, you’re gonna have to go through the pictures yourself,” he added, grinning down at you.

“Sorry,” you laughed. You reached out and slid two fingers over the touchpad guiding the cursor over the arrow icon. “So where are those pictures of you with long hair, uh?”

He knew you were trying to distract him but still made him blush. Those photos were in a folder titled: recovery spring 2010. He gave you directions to find it and waited for your reaction, wondering if you would burst into laughter at the sight of him with long hair and a lot more weight on.

“Wow.”

Bucky turned his attention to the screen to see which one had caught your interest. It was a selfie Steve had taken one sunny afternoon after he had forced Bucky to go out with him and Sam. They were sitting outside drinking iced tea.

Steve’s smile was blinding. He was wearing that stupid baseball cap he loved so much. Bucky sat hunched over in his seat behind Steve, his smile small but genuine. It was the kind of smile that said ‘my friends forced me to join them but I’m secretly glad they did’. Sam was leaning sideways against Bucky, his eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses.

“You look like a completely different person,” you said. “So... strong.”

“Hey!” he gasped in mock offense. “How dare you? I’m still strong.” He removed his arm from behind your shoulders and raised it to flex his biceps. “Look at that!”

With a roll of your eyes, you let your hand roam over his muscular arm slightly squeezing his biceps. “Okay, I’m impressed.”

“Ah! Thank you,” he said with a pleased smile. “Now, c’mon, s’ time to eat.”

Bucky got to his feet and extended his hand to help you up. You trailed behind him as you walked toward the kitchen. “I bet Steve could rip a log in half with his bare hands.”

“I’ll ask him.”

“Where is he?”

“Hard to say. He works for National Geographic now. I think he’s supposed to be in Siberia.”

You spent the next few days like tourists. You showed Bucky your favourite museums, stayed way too long in front of several artworks but he never complained. Bucky took you to the movies. You sat together in the dark for several hours watching foreign films, and you only fell asleep once. Then the two of you would walk around Manhattan speaking in a made-up language and pretending to be characters in a movie.

Bucky couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so carefree. A little voice in the back of his head kept repeating ‘enjoy it while it lasts’ but he chose to ignore it.

“Thanks for helping me with this,” Bucky said, gesturing at the tree in the living room. “She went to the store to buy some ornaments.”

He handed Sam a bottle of beer which he took with a smile before tipping it to his lips for a long drink. Bucky hit his beer bottle on the counter to uncap it and followed Sam into the living room.

“She’s excited, uh,” Sam said with a grin. “You guys are spending Christmas together?”

“Liss,” Bucky replied after taking a swig of beer. “We’re celebrating Liss this year.”

“’The hell is that?”

Bucky shrugged. “It’s an old word. It means comfort, happiness.” A respite from pain. “We decided to make our own holiday. We’re going to spend two days in our fanciest loungewear, eating junk food and playing board games.”

“Cute,” Sam drawled out. “When’s the wedding?”

“Don’t say that.” Bucky glared at him. “Why do you always do that? I finally feel at peace with myself. I’m happy, I’m ready to take on new challenges. Why do you always have to make fun of me?”

Sam’s eyes widened at this. “Woah, I’m joking. It’s what we do. You tease me, I tease you. C’mon, I know things have been hard for you. I’m proud of you,” he rushed to say, afraid he might have hurt his friend’s feelings, but then he caught Bucky’s barely concealed smirk behind his beer bottle. “You’re messing with me.”

“Of course, man. Can you say ‘I’m proud of you’ again? Wanna make it my ringtone.”

“Screw you.” They sipped their beer in silence, each deep in thought. “But you like her, right?”

Bucky twirled the neck of the bottle between two fingers. “I do, she’s nice.”

Sam shook his head like he was frustrated with the answer “That’s not what I mean, and you know it. Don’t bullshit me.”

“I’m not in love with her, Sam.”

“I never said anything about being in love.” He was silent for a moment before he added, “Beside there’s an entire world between like and love.”

Bucky caught a glimpse of hurt and fear in the depths of Sam’s eyes. He reminded him of Steve: strong yet vulnerable, generous and righteous. Bucky had a feeling Sam wasn’t talking about you.

“Is this about Natasha?”

Sam hung his head and stared at the beer bottle he rolled between his hands. “Sometimes I feel like it was inevitable. These sugar daddy relationships are complicated; at first it’s fun and easy, we both get what we want.” He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. “And then it changes, so fast you barely see it coming, and it becomes the only thing you look forward to.” He took another swig of beer.

“These few hours with her mean more to me than anything else in this goddamn world. But it’s not real, none of this is real.”

“How do you know it’s not real?” Bucky asked, swallowing past the lump in his throat.

“I pay her.” Sam gave him a sad smile. “She spends time with me because I pay her. Sex wasn’t part of our deal but it came naturally. It’s going to end, one way or another. And If my time with her is limited, why make things complicated, y’see?”

An uneasy feeling gnawed at Bucky’s stomach, taunting him, trying to make him see something he wasn’t ready to see yet. “What if she feels the same way ‘bout you?”

“I don’t know,” Sam sighed. “To know that I’d have to talk to her, and I’d rather not take my chances. I’m happy with the way things are right now. It hurts, but I’m okay.” He leaned back and made himself comfortable. “You gotta be careful, Bucky. I see the way you look at your angel. You’re skating on thin fucking ice.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Like, love,” Sam said, weighing the two words. “And everything in between.”

They mulled over Sam’s words while they finished their beer. A million thoughts raged through Bucky’s head, circling around like wasps, buzzing and annoying. He was relieved when he heard the front door open.

“Italian leather loafers, mmh is Sam here?” you called out from the kitchen where you set your shopping bag down on the table before you joined them in the living room. “Hey guys! What’s the matter? You both look like someone kicked your puppy-OH MY GOD! LOOK AT THAT TREE!”

While you ran across the living room, Sam cast Bucky a look. The message was clear; be careful. They got to their feet and acted like nothing happened. Sam put on his coat and gave you a quick hug before he left.

Bucky was silent while you were decorating the tree. He let you decide where you wanted to put the tinsel and baubles. He just sat there with a vacant look in his eyes, handing baubles. A smile curled his lips when you cupped his cheek and ran the pad of your thumb along his cheekbone. He looked up at you.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Bucky said with a small smile. “Just old and moody.”

You laughed. “Come here, help me with this. It’s actually super boring when no one’s fighting for the baubles.”

“Oh, you wanna fight, angel,” he said with a smirk while he played with a tinsel garland. “Ok, let’s fight.”

You took a step back. “I’ve changed my mind.”

“Too late!”

You shrieked when he launched himself at you. He wrapped the tinsel garland around you, loosely pinning your arms to your sides. You laughed so hard your eyes watered and your shoulders shook. He used it to his advantage and looped two baubles over your ears like giant earrings.

Still laughing, you tugged one of your hands free and threw a handful of tinsel all over Bucky before you ran away. He chased you around the living room, using one of the fairy lights as a lasso.  

Soon, the living room was a giant mess. There was more tinsel in Bucky’s hair than on the tree, and you had managed to wrap the fairy lights around his body. You look pretty ridiculous with your giant earrings and dishevelled hair.

You and Bucky collapsed on the floor, out of breath and euphoric. The sun was starting to set behind the skyscrapers casting a warm golden glow over the room. You turned on the fairy lights and burst out laughing when Bucky sparkled like a tree.

He found his phone on the sofa and handed it to you. You opened up the camera app and nestled closer to him. The first photo was blurry because you couldn’t stop laughing. Bucky thought the second photo was nice but you didn’t like it.

“My smile is too wild,” you said.

“You look beautiful,” he argued. “I look like a Christmas tree.”

Bucky felt a pleasant stir in his belly when you placed your head on his shoulder. Be careful. He could practically hear Sam’s voice in his head. His chest was hurting. It wasn’t unpleasant, just peculiar and unexpected. He closed his eyes and rested his cheek on top of your head.

“Bucky! You have to open your eyes,” you scolded him after looking at the picture, unaware of his inner turmoil.

He wasn’t sure he could; tears were welling up in his eyes. He was terrified of his feelings for you, but his body was screaming at him to stop burying his head in the sand. He didn’t want you to see the tears in his eyes, he didn’t want to alarm you, because the truth was, he hadn’t been careful.

“Can’t. I’m comfy,” he replied, masking his true feelings behind a joke.

“Open them or I’ll tickle you.”

He chuckled. “Okay, okay, no need to use force.”

He soldiered on and opened his eyes, smiling at the camera. He liked you, and he promised himself he would never tell you. His feelings didn’t matter, it wasn’t part of your deal.

Part 7

[aswithasunbeam]

December 1814

“Hush, darling,” Eliza whispered. “It’s all right.”

Angelica curled up further on the bed beside Eliza with a soft whimper. At least she was resting, finally, after hours of panic about invisible demons reaching out from the walls to take her away. Eliza had had to push the bed away from the walls before she’d been able to convince her daughter to lie down.

Eliza closed her eyes, the press of the day weighing on her already. Servants were bustling through the halls just outside the door, heaving trunks from little Eliza and Phil’s rooms. They were all bound for New York at first light tomorrow to celebrate Johnny’s wedding to his dear Maria. A joyous occasion to be sure, especially as she anticipated having their children together for the first time in years: William was meant to be coming down from West Point, and Alex and Jamie had secured time away from their posts, as well. Joyous, yes, even as it hurt that so much of her family wouldn’t be there, with Angelica and Peggy both gone, her parents, and Philip…. She swallowed around a lump in her throat at the thought of her eldest.

Her younger daughter shrieked suddenly from down the hall. “Give it back! Now!”

“I’m using it!” Phil yelled back.

“It’s mine!”

Eliza sighed, easing herself from Angelica’s bed to go see what all the fuss was about. Phil and little Eliza were engaged in an all out tug of war over a bit of ribbon in the hallway between their rooms. She watched silently for a moment, frowning, her arms crossed, waiting for them to notice her displeasure.

Phil noticed her first and abruptly let go of the ribbon. Little Eliza stumbled backwards, landing hard on her bottom. She yelped, glared up at her brother, and aimed a swift kick at his ankles.  

“What are you two doing?” she demanded.

“She started it,” Phil said, jumping hastily out of the line of fire.

“He stole my best ribbon and he was using it to hang toy soldiers out the window.”

“I was going to give it back.”

“It’s got dirt all over it and you got it all wrinkled.” She held the ribbon up to show her mother. “See? I wanted to wear it to Johnny’s wedding.”

Phil stuck his tongue out at his sister. When she noticed, she aimed another kick at his ankles. He jumped back again, shouting, “Stop it!”

“What is all the yelling about?” Alexander asked as he slowly wheeled himself around the corner, to their collective surprise.

Despite the gathering dark outside the hall window, she was shocked to see him home; she’d hardly seen hide nor hair of him in the past days as they prepared to leave for their extended trip home. Both the children went quiet at his unexpected arrival, and little Eliza bounced up to her feet.

“Sorry Papa,” they both mumbled quickly.

“We seem to be having quite the disagreement over a bit of ribbon,” Eliza supplied when they failed to offer further explanation.

Alexander looked at her with a hint of a smile. “Want me to send them to help dig out the new latrine by the camp? That’s what I do with the men who mouth off. Very effective punishment.”

They both paled considerably, sending her matching pleading looks.

She made a show of considering for a long beat before smiling as well. “I think we can give them one more chance before we put them to hard labor.”

“We’ll be good,” Phil promised solemnly.

“I expect so.” Alexander tilted his head to the side to dismiss them. “Off you go. Stop making your mother’s life difficult.”

If only he’d take his own advice, she thought fondly.

They scampered off down the hall, both giving their father an affectionate peck on the cheek as they passed. He shook his head as he watched them go, then looked back at her, the laugh lines in his cheeks creasing. “Imps.”

“Well, we did complain the house was too quiet without them,” Eliza said. Indeed, when Alexander had sent them off to stay with family over the summer for their safety, the house had felt empty without their constant bickering and antics. She paced over to him and leaned down to kiss him, as well. “It’s good to have you home finally. You missed dinner again.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry I haven’t been much help getting ready for our trip. I’ve been in endless meetings. When I at one point raised the concern about the endless meetings, one of Jemmy’s secretaries quite unironically asked if I would like him to schedule a meeting to discuss it.”

She laughed.  

He grinned at her, but his eyes turned serious when he glanced towards the door to Angelica’s room. “How’s Geli today?”

Eliza sobered as she, too, glanced back at her daughter’s door. “She’s been having a bad day.”

He sighed. “She’s been having a lot of bad days, lately. I heard her whimpering and muttering when I got home late last night. She was wide awake when I peeked in at her. I doubt she got much rest.”

Eliza hardly needed reminding, having been up much of the night with her. “She’s resting now, finally.”

“That’s something, I suppose.”

His hands fidgeted on the wheels of his chair. She watched him a moment, sensing he had something else to tell her. The expression twisting his face usually signaled some sort of indigestion. When he failed to say anything more, she asked, “What is it?”

“Well,” he started, his hand going up to scratch at his neck uncomfortably.

Anxiety started to build up at his continued reluctance to speak. “If you say you can’t come to New York for your own son’s wedding—”

“No, no, it’s not that.” He sighed, resting his hands on the wheels of his chair once more, as though contemplating an escape even as he spoke. “It’s just, I need to meet with some people before I leave. And the only time they would both be available was tonight. So, I may have suggested they stop by the house before we leave. They’re on their way over now, actually. For tea.”

She felt her own expression twisting to match his, heartburn flaring in her chest as a suspicion about his guest list occurred to her. “Who?”

“Burr,” he said.

“Burr,” she repeated, disbelief in her tone even though that’s exactly the name she’d expected to hear. “You expect me to serve tea to Aaron Burr?”

“Well,” he started again.

“You promised me. You promised, when you suggested him for his position, that I wouldn’t need to be alone with him.”

“I said not just the three of us.” He fidgeted in his chair again, clearly not relishing delivering his next bit of news. “Someone else is coming, too.”

He seemed somehow more reluctant to tell her the next guest. How could it possibly get worse? “Who else?”  

He gritted his teeth, hesitating again before saying, “Monroe.”

A wave of cold fury washed over her. “Monroe!”

“Shh,” he hushed, pointing towards Angelica’s room behind them.

Her nostrils flared as she forced a deep breath, jerking her head to indicate he should follow her down the hall before moving around him towards his office. He liked to praise her as an endless fountain of love and patience, she thought, but much as she might try, she simply wasn’t. Her nerves were already frayed from sleepless nights and managing ornery children and overseeing the packing and planning for their journey. Now he wanted her to cap off her night by serving tea to two of the most loathsome men on earth.  

He rolled in to the office behind her, and she snapped the door closed.

“No,” she said firmly.

“Eliza—”

“No, Alexander. No. You ask too much, sometimes.”

He smiled softly, highlighting the dimples in his cheeks, and reached out for her hand. “You’d send me into the viper’s nest without my trusty mongoose for protection?”

“You can’t charm your way out of this,” she hissed.

“Betsey,” he sighed, expression turning serious. “It can’t be helped.”

“They’re not welcome here. Not in my home. Neither of them.”

“You know I try to keep them away as much as possible. I know how you feel.”

“Do you? Because sometimes, the way you act, especially around Burr—”

“I understand. I do. But I need to see them before I go. It’s important.”

“What’s so important?”

“Campbell submitted his budget, just before he conveniently resigned to see to his health. He estimated an appropriation of $25 million would be needed, which is far, far beyond the expected tax revenue of $11 million, and all that’s before factoring in the cost of rebuilding the capital.”

She sank into the chair near his desk, sensing a lengthy conversation. “Go on.”

“Then there’s this…this treasonous…convention.” She could hear the quotes around the last word as he spit it out. “Otis has called a meeting of Federalists all across New England to propose a radical change in our national compact. Because what we need in the middle of a war, apparently, is a new constitutional convention intent on gutting the Federal government.”

“Were you invited?”  

He snorted. “As if I’d stoop to attending such a farcical proceeding.”

She smiled a little. She knew he’d have gloried in attending, monopolizing the conversation until his voice went hoarse telling them exactly why they were all idiots and cowards, had he been given the opportunity. “So no?”

He shot her a glare, but then smirked, caught red-handed by her knowing look. “I think they knew what my answer would be.”

She threaded her fingers between his. “I know how stressed you are about the war and fate of the country, sweetheart. But I don’t see what a meeting with those two—” she paused, hunting for a word, and, finding none, continued with only the empty space to define them, “—helps accomplish.”

“Monroe is acting Secretary of War, and, with Campbell gone, probably acting Secretary of the Treasury as well at this point. I need him to call on Congress to establish a new national bank, which in turn will help fund additional men. At least 100,000 to start.”

“And I’m sure he’ll take your direction with great enthusiasm.”

“Not with enthusiasm, perhaps, but he’ll take my direction, once I explain the need.”

“And Burr?”

“The Hartford Convention needs to be minimized. We need a shot of patriotism in that part of the country, a call to arms to rally flagging spirits. Since the Northern theater quieted, they’ve been shouldering the financial burden with none of the chance for glory. Meanwhile, the enemy is starting to gather with an eye towards New Orleans. If we can start mustering troops in New England, threaten an invasion of Canada, we might be able to press England into peace and herd New England back into the fold at the same time.”

“And you want Burr to head the effort,” she said, intuiting his plan now. Once Monroe agreed to call upon Congress to fund new troops, Burr would ride north to start mustering a force to take on Canada again.

“Exactly.” His eyes bore into hers. “And it needs to happen now. Immediately. Congress can’t be frightened into cutting back on the army, or we’ll be a British colony again by New Year’s.”

She squeezed his hand.

“So?” he pressed.

She held his gaze. “I suppose I’ll let them in when they knock. I won’t agree to more than that.”

He leaned over in his chair to catch her lips. “That’s all I need from you.”

**

That she managed to bring in the tea service without pouring the scalding water over either of their two unwanted guests ought to have qualified her sainthood, in her opinion. She didn’t stay in the room with them, didn’t even mutter a greeting. She did stay near the door, however, listening, while Alexander laid out his plan. She couldn’t quite bring herself to abandon him, even when he’d invited the viper’s nest upon himself.

“I wasn’t a particular supporter of your bank the first time around, Mr. Hamilton,” Monroe said. “Why should I call on Congress to re-charter it now?”

“How else are you going to pay for more troops, Mr. Secretary?”

Monroe answered in a measured tone. “We’re mere weeks away from a peace treaty, according to my intelligence in Ghent. Once that’s signed, there won’t be a need for more troops. We can cut back, limit spending to match our more limited revenue stream temporarily, until imports duties return to their pre-war levels.”

“You don’t think the British are also gathering intelligence?” Burr asked. “They’ll be watchfully waiting for our new budget proposals. If we’re seen dismantling the army before the war is over, why would they ever agree to a peace deal? Might as well take us for their own again.”

Monroe scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. They’ve practically already signed. And I think we’ve proven far too troublesome to bother with as a colony again.”

“Too troublesome thirty years ago,” Burr pointed out. “And we were lucrative. If we can’t mount a solid defense, no reason not to give it another try.”

Alexander added, “You need to get the dissent in New England under control. And you need funding. Even without the additional expense of more troops, rebuilding the capital will be an expensive endeavor. You need to do this.”

“I don’t like the bank,” Monroe said sourly.

Alexander laughter bitterly. “It’s me you don’t like, Mr. Secretary. And that’s quite all right. I assure you the feeling is mutual. But you have to do this. Don’t make me go over your head to Jemmy to force you into action. It will only waste time.”

There was a long silence, tension palpable. “Fine. I’ll propose re-chartering the bank and adding funding for more troops. But I can’t promise it will pass.”

“Oh, I think you’ll find the votes, Mr. Secretary,” Alexander insisted. “Necessity is a great motivator.”

Sensing the meeting was coming to a close, Eliza moved to summon the servants to bring the hats and coats. She didn’t want them lingering in the front room any longer than necessary. In the moments she’d stepped away, however, something must have happened, because she suddenly heard raised voices coming from the office. She hurried back, opening the door to the office to find Burr standing in between Monroe and Alexander.

Monroe was all but shouting, “You think just because you’ve blinded Jemmy with nostalgic appeals to a long-dead friendship that you can always have your way, just as you did with Washington. I’ll not be so easily taken in, Mr. Hamilton, I promise you that.”

Burr placed a hand on Monroe’s shoulder, trying to ease him away from Alexander.

Alexander looked blithely unconcerned, all but smirking at Monroe as he said, “I’ll remind you there is no guaranteed succession in this country, Mr. Monroe, however many hats you acquire during this administration. I wouldn’t be so assured of victory in the next election, if I were you.”

Color rose in Monroe’s face as he pushed around Burr, holding a finger out in Alexander’s direction. “Enjoy your influence while you have it. Your days are numbered.”

“That’s quite enough,” Eliza said, voice deadly quiet, fury taking wing in her chest at the implied threat.

Monroe spun around to face her. “Mrs. Hamilton—”

“You have nothing to say to me, Mr. Monroe.”

“I apologize for raising my voice,” he continued, bowing his head slightly.

“No. No. If you mean to offer anything other than a full and sincere apology, not only for the unforgivable words you just uttered, but also for all the slanders and stories you circulated against my husband in the past, I have no interest in hearing it.”

Monroe frowned. “If you mean…the business with the Reynolds papers was hardly my doing. Your husband—”

“What my husband did was a matter we have long since settled between us. But that the rest of the world was involved was very much your doing. He has earned my forgiveness. You’ve never even bothered to ask it.”

“Mrs. Hamilton—”

“And you now have the…the gall to come into my home, drink my refreshments, and then threaten the person I hold dearest in the world. Please leave, Mr. Monroe. Now.”

He stared at her for a long moment. Burr patted at his shoulder, encouraging him forward. Just before Burr himself stepped out, though, he glanced back at her husband. “You’re a real pain in the ass, Ham. You know that?”

“So I’ve been told.” Alexander had the nerve to look fond as he addressed Burr.

“Out,” she insisted.

Burr at least had the decency to avert his eyes as he passed her, collecting their coats and urging Monroe out the front door without another word.

When the door had closed, she looked back at Alexander, still sitting in the middle of the room. He gave her plaintive look. “I’m so sorry, Betsey. I didn’t mean for things to get so out of hand. Or for you to be pulled into the middle of it.”

She pointed in the direction the two men had just disappeared, her hand shaking slightly from rush of rage and fear that coursed through her. “That man is never, ever setting foot in my home again.”

“Of course. Never again.”

Promises, promises—how he could make them. Her heart was still beating in her throat.  He rolled forward and took her hand, placing a kiss to the back of her fingers.

She softened as she looked back at him, calming somewhat with his easy agreement and solid feeling of his hand in hers. The reason for his insistence on the meeting in the first place re-occurred to her, and she felt a niggle of concern despite herself. “Do you think he’ll still put forward the proposal to Congress?”

“Yes.” He sounded completely confident. “He doesn’t have a choice. Jemmy will back me if it comes to a contest, and he knows it. I just don’t want to lose time on the argument when every minute counts. We’re too close, balanced on the edge of a precipice. I’ll not let our experiment fail over pigheadedness and pride.”  

She considered the exchanged she’d walked in on again, eyes locked on her husband. “You said that to him, didn’t you? You goaded him into shouting at you.”

He gave her a sheepish smile. “I do so enjoy winding him up with impotent rage.”

She wanted to be angry with him, but amusement was quickly outpacing the sensation. Damn him, his charm, and his sweet smile, she thought. She let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head at him. Relief washed over his face.

“I really didn’t mean to drag you into it, though, my dearest.” He kissed her hand again, looking more relaxed. “Though I confess I enjoyed watching you kick him to the curb. My darling mongoose.”

His darling mongoose, indeed, she huffed internally.

[admiringlove]

IX: aparecium; an incantation to always remember.

— you finally read all the other pages of his diary.

+pairing: miya atsumu x reader.

+genre: crossover(hq x hp); fluff; angst; frenemies to lovers.

+word count: 2.9k.

+warnings: FLUFF!! pls, if i don’t put fluff, some of my moots would cry(*cough* ray).

+usual customers(taglist): @babyworld @renee1414 @anotherhydrangea @seita @tobiosnoelle @weebslxt @tsukkiwaifu16 @loveusandoor @kozumebri @sarawrz @crackheadsara @kyuudere @cultsax @supernovaa-a @akaashikeijisan @b3llo-there @sugasloverr @kagebunshiin @tetsurolls @velvetfireworks @kritiiiii @1wai@seijohlogy​ @sweetrosemilktea @bellesowl @ems1des​ @akaashi-todorki @sakuric​ @irishhbamb​ @sweetsamus​ @cherriechurros @mxshimoo @bluebirdandcomrades @zukuroo @denki-core @sarahvvictoria​ @littlevoxine

+author’s notes: this is the last chapter(im def not sad) BUT i will be writing bonus parts!!

+navigation: previous, masterlist,.

You stand in front of your apartment, sighing as you close your eyes, making your way inside your bedroom and begin to pick up the cardboard boxes with the help of your wand, moving them outside into the living room for someone(who is quite late, yet again) to take to your new home.

You tie your hair up, fixing your overcoat a little as you sigh, making your way to the smallest box, placed in the corner of the room. Just by looking at the stamp on top of it, you smile. 

The memories of your time at Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry. 

You carefully sit on your knees, your plaid skirt riding up just a smidge, as you open the carton in front of you. 

To say that it was filled up completely was an understatement because right now, a few books and photographs fell out onto your lap, making you chuckle. You picked up the photographs, settling with your back against the wall and your legs stretching out, as you looked through them one by one. 

The first one—one of your graduation ceremony, standing next to Shimizu Kiyoko(the current owner of the most popular Quidditch shop in London) who was beaming vividly at the camera with you, holding up your wands as a gesture that you had finally done it. Something that seemed almost insurmountable when you first started school, and now? You all were content, happy with your lives. 

The second photograph was one from the third year, your first time in Hogsmeade. You were in The Three Broomsticks, and a mustache of the froth from the butterbeer had formed atop your lips. Behind you, a certain fox pointed and laughed his guts out. 

The next picture was from the Shrieking Shack—where all of your friends had ditched the second last day of school and spent the whole day drinking and reminiscing the past seven years of nostalgic happiness. A boy held your hand with the fondest look in his carob orbs, and you returned it. 

You gingerly took the three photos, storing them in the photo album that had also fallen out of the box in the process of you opening it. Smiling, you took out some more mementos. 

Your broomstick, the Nimbus 2001, sat at the bottom, but you excitedly removed it and placed it on the ground, saying, "Up!"

It almost made it to your hand but fell down upon grazing your fingertips. You pouted, blaming the number of years it had passed since you had played Quidditch. Peering into the box as you placed the broomstick aside, you found something even funnier. 

Cheap, piss colored hair-dye that was almost ten-years-old. 

You chuckled, looking at it playfully as you opened the top of the bottle. The disgusting odor that came from it made you grunt as you immediately placed the cap back on top, never desiring to touch that thing ever again. And once more, you placed the item in your hand to the side, looking into the box to find more things that reminded you of your happiest years. 

You couldn't believe your eyes at what sat at the bottom of the carton. 

An empty notebook with a soft leather cover, with a grey quill by its side, sitting there and ridiculing you. 

You blinked twice, making sure what you were seeing was real. Hell, you even rubbed your eyes until you could see mindless patterns in the dark. You opened your eyes, the patterns making themselves sort of visible in plain sight, disappearing after a few milliseconds when you grabbed the brown book in front of you and whispered with your wand in hand, "Aparecium."

September 2, 20**.

I don’t know what I’m doing at this point. It’s been 3 years since I started loving her.  When I saw her walk into the train today, umm, yesterday cause it’s past 2 AM now… I felt so happy?? I mean, I know I tease her and all, she’s quite amazing. She’s got the brains for it all and insults me back even when I say something stupid.  I really dunno. 3 years and I’ve made 0 progress. I seriously need to re-think my decision about my love for this girl 'cause 'Samu says there’s no chance she loves me back. Dunno if I’ll be able to stop my feelings, though. I’ve liked her since my second year. Damn me, for being such a lovesick puppy.  And to think I colored my hair for her too. [Y/N] called it piss-colored. Out of all things, why the fuck would ya compare somebody’s hair to piss? That’s utterly disgusting. I wonder where [L/N] gets these dumb ideas. Damn her, that slug. Anyways, I have class in a couple hours. G'night. 

'Tsumu. 

You immediately let out a hearty laugh, flipping to the next page when you remembered a certain encounter with the boy who wrote the diary. The day he told you he loved you, by the infamous Black Lake, he spoke of this particular page. He said that he addressed the nightly trips around Hogwarts, about how much he longs to be yours, about his happiness when he sees you, and your snarky comments that are just as, if not more, witty than his. 

September 4, 20**

Today was the third day of school. Also my first trip around Hogwarts with [Y/N] under my invisibility cloak. We snuck into the kitchens and got ourselves steak pies and treacle tarts, and then went to the Astronomy Tower where we ate them while laughing about nothing in particular. I love these little trips. They make me all warm and fuzzy inside. Dunno how to put it into words, but I really like spending time with her alone. It makes me really really really happy. I wish that someday, maybe when I'm all grown up and play for a known Quidditch Team and she's a DADA professor, we are still like this. Going around to aimless places, eating food, and laughing about the old times(or anything really, I just want to be with her even when I'm older). And just like always, she doesn't fail to throw dumb comebacks at me. I can't help but chuckle at them, because sometimes they really are offensive. Well, looks like it's time to hit the hay now, so g'night. 

'Tsumu.

You gasp as the page comes to an end, a hand on your mouth. He wasn't wrong when he said he wrote about you. You smile as a tear runs down your cheek as you flip to a random page this time, and you realize that it's written in his sixth year of Hogwarts. 

December 23, 20**

I stayed back for Christmas break this year and my dorm is all empty. So is hers, because she says she didn't want to go back home at all until the summer. I feel bad for her gran, that woman must feel lonely. 

You giggled at the line, grinning because you remember your grandma sending you a Howler, which yelled at you in the empty dorm-room for not coming home for the holidays. She said she missed you, and that your grandfather's health was deteriorating. She had also said that she knew why you didn't come back, and that it was okay, because she understood that you couldn't see another loved one go. The Howler ended on a sorrowful note, but everything eased back into its place because you remember the writer of the diary in your hands being there to comfort you when a dreaded letter came in after the holidays. You continued reading where you left off, wiping away the new wave of tears that had emerged from the memories.

Yesterday, me and [Y/N] went around the castle under the invisibility cloak I gave her. It was fun because I always get to see this little smile on her face that only shows up during these trips. We also went to the forbidden section of the library just because we wanted to look at a few spells that are probably illegal. I did accidentally kill a rat practicing the second unforgivable curse, and [Y/N] helped me hide all the evidence by feeding the dead rat to the Hippogriff she had found in the Forbidden Forest. I swear, if someone saw the way I did the spell and couldn't stop until [Y/N] threw Expelliarmus at me, they would throw me in the deepest pin in Azkaban and I'd probably never be able to see [Y/N] again. Anyway, I have to go back out for dinner now. G'night.

'Tsumu.

You, again, laughed at the man's childishness. You recollect distinctly how scared he was, that he had almost pissed his pants in the Courtyard that night. You had assured him that nothing would go wrong and that your lips were completely sealed, because he was your friend of course, so you had quickly formulated a plan to help him. And yet again, you flip to a new page, one from the fifth year this time. 

July 15, 20**

 I hate this part every year. Ever since my third year, it sickens me to come back home for summer. I can't see her because she lives in Lambeth while I'm in Westminster with my posh family. It makes me a little angry sometimes that my family is well-known in the wizarding world because this means my summers are filled with whatever my parents want me to do. The train ride back home was definitely not quiet. It was so chaotic(mostly because of the constant bickering between me and [Y/N]) and Kita-san yelled at us at the end. That was the first time I've ever seen him get angry, so he was either really fed up or we were being too dumb. Anyway, I'm gonna miss Hogwarts a lot for the next month or so, because after that I get to see her again. Honestly? Can't wait for the sixth year. I hope she grows taller, because right now, she's quite the midget. I'll write her a letter or two, but I probably won't send all of them. G'night for now. 

'Tsumu.

You continue reading it all. Page by page, parchment by parchment, word by word, letter by letter until you finally get to the last page. The one he wrote on the graduation day, where he says that he wants to marry you someday. But you don't get to read it just yet, because he walks into the room with his booming voice and boyish grin.

"[Y/N]! Sorry I'm late, sweetheart! I apparated back home as fast as I could 'cause Coach saw me slack off a lil-"

"So ya actually read it all, huh?" he smirks, walking up to you and crouching down next to you, "Ah, the last page, have ya read it yet?"

"Not the last one," you smile, "—if only I'd read these sooner, we wouldn't have gone through all that mindless drama in seventh year, right?"

"Eh, 'twas kinda worth it in the end," he shrugs, sitting down next to you and placing his thumb on your chin, "Love, you've been crying?"

You shook your head lightly, letting out a small chuckle which to him sounded like the sweetest melody on the face on the planet, "Tears of joy, 'Tsumu. You were a cute teenager in love."

He smiles with his teeth on display, his fading blonde hair falling on his face with perfection as he whispers, "Only for you, darling."

"I'm glad," you mutter, closing in and placing a ghost of a kiss on his lips when you realize, "Wait, shit! We have to take all of this to the House! I'm supposed to leave for Hogwarts tonight!"

"Kiss me first, then we'll talk."

"'Tsumu, you really didn't have to come all the way to Hogwarts to drop me off," you giggle, as the yellow-haired man intertwines his fingers with yours quietly, giggling along with you as he says, "Hey, now yer students get to see yer hot boyfriend that you've been with for the past eight years."

"My stupid boyfriend that did a lot of illegal things in school. You're not exactly a good influence, you know," you mumble, earning a little offended open-mouth Atsumu walking alongside you to your quarters. He continues faking the vexed expression, a hand on his heart as he says, "How could ya wound me like this, baby?" 

"I love you though, so it's justified," you say, opening the door and placing your trunk by the bed. He closes the door, leaning on it with his arms crossed over his chest as you set up your things in the room. When you turned around, you saw Atsumu looking at you with the most enamored look in his clove-infused eyes. You sighed, your shoulders immediately relaxing when your orbs land on him by the door. You step towards him, your beige trench coat trailing behind as you wrap your arms around his very muscular figure(now that he's a part of Nottingham Jackals as a Beater). 

"You're going to leave, aren't you?" you mumble against his chest softly, as he chuckles out, "Yer lucky ya get to stay in Hogwarts when I'm gone. Everything's gonna remind ya of me."

Before you open your mouth to retort, your boyfriend says, "Don't worry, slug. I'll send ya letters everyday. And I'll come to meet ya twice a month. Maybe you can even let me meet yer students."

"'Tsumu, no-"

"Imagine! Children and teenagers, all of 'em love me to death. They'll love yer class, even more, when you make me meet 'em!" he exclaims, his eyes filled with curiosity, "Also, also! What about the third years? I wanna be there when the boggart lesson goes on-"

"'Tsumu, no. The school won't allow it. Although, my students do come and ask about you a lot because they like your Quidditch playing skills. They're not idiots like me, they won't fall in love with your stupid personality," you chuckle, pulling away from the hug, but still holding his arms with yours. He pouts, pulling you into a soft kiss, but immediately pulling away and winking at you, "I'm gonna see ya in a few weeks. Maybe I'll take ya on a date to Hogsmeade again, we can sneak into the Shrieking Shack again under that invisibility cloak."

"'Tsumu, I'm a teacher, not a student!" you laugh, but he simply says, "If anything, that gives us an excuse!"

Miya Atsumu never expected you to be agitatedly running around in your green-room, trying to find things for your hair and make-up. He chuckles lightly because all the other people in the room can do is shake their heads and sigh at your frantic state. Your maid-of-honor, Kiyoko, tried to calm you down about half an hour ago, but it was to no avail. 

Atsumu sent Kiyoko a knowing glance, to which she and all the other bridesmaids stepped outside for just a minute. 

"[Y/N]," he says, his voice low but still soothing. You stop in your tracks, turning around and gasping as you looked at him—clad in sweatpants and a white shirt—and widened your eyes. 

"Dummy, you aren't supposed to see me just yet! Go away and wait at the altar!" you yell, walking over to him and attempting to shove him outside the room. 

Emphasis on the word, 'attempting'. 

"You look exactly like what you are right now, a slug. So listen to me, love. I need to give ya something before you start stressin' out all over again," Atsumu murmurs, placing his hands on your shoulders tenderly as he pulls out a book with a leather cover and hands it to you. 

You sigh, picking it up as you sit down by the vanity. Atsumu looms behind you, crouching down to whisper next to your ears, "Love, open the last page, will ya?"

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, turning your head to look at him with exasperation. He places a peck to your cheek, humming indulgently as an indicator for you to continue as he instructed. You sigh again, shoulders drooping low as you turn over the book and open it, and muttering, "Aparecium."

July 2, 20**.

I want to marry [L/N] [Y/N] someday. 

Miya Atsumu. 

From the last day of the seventh year, and Atsumu continues to explain to you that during the train ride back home when all of you were sleeping, was when he wrote the last entry of his diary, and never opened it again. Because he knew, that he meant every word scribbled on every page. 

You sat there, listening to the man with the messy faded blonde hair, losing yourself in his perfect brown eyes all over again. You felt as if you were diving deep into an ocean of pure chocolate, the sweetness and the slight bitterness getting the best of you as you drown—but voluntarily, because drowning was your intention. 

"I love you, Atsumu," you say out of nowhere, cutting him off. He stops abruptly, his eyes growing wide and his mouth forming into a pout. His lips form into the brightest smile ever, as if the rays of a thousand suns meeting at one point. His boyish grin melts your heart, as he presses his lips to your forehead and says, "I love you more, darling. Now, take a breather, will ya?"

"Oh, and before I go. Don't disappoint me today, slug. I've been waiting to do this for the past eleven years."

© all works belong to admiringlove on tumblr. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

i’m not crying. yes. 

[mandoalorian]

Falling In Love with Frankie Morales

DAY NINE: Falling in Love with Frankie Morales [requested by @wickedfrsgrl]

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Word count: 1k

Rating: PG-13

Frankie replayed the voicemail every fucking night. "The only thing that is making me stay in the city is you," you revealed in the message. Frankie could make out that you were on the road, later learning that you had been driving in the depths of the night. "Frankie, please call me back when you get this. Please call me back. I have to know."

One drunken night at a party, you had told Frankie the truth. He was your best friend, and you told him that you had been holding back your feelings for him for months, if not years now. The alcohol in your system, combined with how pretty Frankie looked under the amber lights of the night club, was what had pushed you to make the revelation. So your speech was slightly slurred, and Frankie would never be able to forget the way your fingers had traced the curve of his bicep, but despite this, you knew it was true. When the three words left your lips you realised they were the most honest three words you had ever spoken.

"You're drunk." Frankie deadpanned.

"So are you," you frowned, folding your arms over your chest. "I've felt these feelings since… since- since we were kids. Shut them out when you started seeing Elena-"

"Don't bring her into this." Frankie growled. He was so close to you, you could smell the cheap beer lace his warm breath. "I'm leaving. Don't need to put up with this bullshit from you."

"Frankie! It's not bullshit!" you cried.

"You're drunk!" He reiterated furiously.

"Doesn't mean it's bullshit!" you gasped, feeling very much hurt by his assumption.

"I'm going home. See ya." he said, taking off his cap and running his fingers through his dark brown hair.

On this Sunday morning, Frankie was nervous, so nervous he couldn't even drive. Santi was behind the wheel, his expression unreadable behind his sunglasses as he indicated and turned the corner. Frankie's thumb grazed the bouquet of red roses he was holding— your favourite.

"Your favourite flowers are roses? Red roses?" Frankie huffed, shaking his head in disbelief. You shot him a frown.

"Why? What's wrong with that?" you asked, your heart sinking in your chest and the feeling of the bouquet weighing down your hands.

"N-no! Nothing!" Frankie said, defensively raising his hands in an apologetic manner. "Sorry it's just, it's just uh… roses were Elena's favourite flower. Albeit she liked the white ones." Frankie trailed off, avoiding the bouquet in your hands. You frowned at the reminder of his ex fiancée, and put the bouquet back on the shelf.

"Oh, right. Of course." you whispered. "That's okay, flowers aren't that important anyway." you shrugged casually, offering Frankie a warm smile.

Frankie cursed under his breath as he remembered that afternoon. He should've just let you get the damned flowers. But no, he had to have been selfish. As he indulged in the fresh, rose scent, he was reminded of you. But maybe the reminder wasn't as bad as he thought.

"You sure about this?" Santiago asked, speaking the first words of the entire journey.

"Yeah," Frankie replied with a shaky exhale. "I should've seen her yesterday but I didn't want to face her family and friends." he revealed.

"I just mean…" Santiago sighed, indicating on a corner again. Frankie noted that he wasn't too far away now. "Fish, you don't have to do this. I think, deep down, she already knows."

"I have to tell her." Frankie choked out, diverting his gaze from the roses to the tall green trees that were a moving blur as Santiago parked up.

Santiago nodded, understandingly. "Me and the guys will be there for you when you get back." Santiago promised.

"What makes you think it won't go well?" Frankie spat, his vision becoming hazy now that he'd finally arrived.

"It's not too late to back down." Santiago said gently.

"Fuck you." Frankie snarled, sliding out of the truck and slamming the door behind you.

"Take as long as you need!" Santiago called after rolling down a window and sticking his head out. "I'll be here, waiting for you!"

Frankie trudged his feet through the crisp autumn leaves, a cold chill hanging over his head as he beckoned deeper in. When he saw you, he was filled with that familiar feeling of belonging that you had given him his whole life. And for the first time in weeks, he felt whole again. He wiped away the tears that pooled in his eyes and straightened his composure as he stalked over you.

When he was just inches away from you, he sat down on the grass and placed the roses down next to him. "I got these for you. Figured I owed you." he chuckled, but you did not reply. When Frankie didn't hear your voice, his heart shattered. "Uh… I'm sorry about what happened that night. Sorry it's taken me so long to come see you. It's just, this shit has been hard. Lexie misses you too," Frankie chuckles light heartedly after referencing his young daughter. "She keeps asking where you are. The guys miss you as well. I just wish it could've been different, you know? I'm sorry I didn't call you back. But actually, that's why I'm here… why I wanted to see you." Frankie blinked back furious tears. "The truth is, I'm in love with you too." Frankie choked back a sob before laughing furiously. He tipped his head back onto the cold stone of your grave and he laughed, laughed, and laughed because of course he fucking loved you.

*Ending note: Hello! This was something very very different. I'm so glad Soliel chose the prompts that she did because there's so much to each individual one that you can work with and I really want to try and make these as unexpected as possible. If you want some Frankie fluff to cheer you up, I do have a Frankie one-shot (smut/fluff) where the reader and Frankie fall in love. I promise it has a happy ending. You can read that here. I also have more Frankie works in my masterlist. As always, thank you for your support on my fics. xx

[tarteausuga]

Home for Christmas

CW: just pure fluff, really. As fluffy and as soft as snow but not as cold. Idol! Mark Lee x reader. Johnny's there too but just as support.

WC: 3.3K

Summary: in which you're alone for Christmas and Mark tries to give you a gift to make you feel less sad.

A/N: Merry Christmas, everyone. Happy holidays if you don't celebrate Christmas. I hope you're all happy, healthy and safe. I'll also be taking a break from TBTC next week and posting something for New year's ✌️

Long distance relationships were hard but they had their good sides as well as bad. One good thing is that you had a lot of time for yourself but on the bad side, you often felt lonely whenever you're out and see people with their significant others. You never really had to spend money on dates but conversely, you never had a chance to go out and show off your boyfriend in public. The time difference often made it hard for you to talk but neither of you ever missed out on your calls.

Mark would call you first thing in the morning when you woke up. It would be midnight to him but luckily, he was a night owl and didn't mind keeping you company while you got ready for your day. Then, you would go about your day before calling him at 5pm, 9am his time, to do the same for him. He often spent his mornings at home before heading to the studio for practice or to write so it was ample time to catch up and just talk about random things. He liked to watch you cook and he often would watch something in Netflix with you. Sometimes you were lucky enough to have him talk you to sleep, or sing you a song he's been working on to send you off into your dream world.

It sounds perfect in a way. You're both able to focus on your lives during the day because the other is safely asleep but you craved the physical aspects. You wanted to be held, you wanted to hold his hand, hell you just wanted to eat a meal with him sitting across from you at the table instead of on a little screen.

The past year and a half has been spent like this. You were childhood friends, growing up together before he moved overseas. You often spent recess running around together and sharing snacks. He wasn't necessarily your best friend, but he was one of the few friends you had growing up and even to this day. It's not that you weren't social but you just preferred being by yourself a lot. You kept in touch with the few friends you did have and that was all you really needed.

It was a surprise to run into him given the circumstances on both ends. He was an incredibly talented and relatively famous Idol in another country; and you moved across the country for school but ended up staying there after landing a good job. You were aware that he would be performing with his group but it wasn't your scene. And you couldn't get tickets anyway since they sold out almost instantly.

Out on your lunch break, you were grabbing a midday iced coffee. But you were trying to juggle setting up meetings and calls with a few important people so you weren't really paying attention when you went to grab the coffee, thinking it was yours.

"Oh I'm sorry." Both you and the owner of that drink said.

Finally, you looked up from your phone at the man and for some reason, you had a feeling of familiarity with him. After squinting your eyes and trying to go through your roledex of people you've encountered in your life, your brain finally figured it out. "Mark?" You say with bewilderment.

"Oh my god! It is you!" He pulled you into an extremely tight hug. "I saw you but I couldn't really tell and I didn't want to go up to a random stranger." He laughed and you couldn't help but do the same. Mark always had that effect on people, he would laugh or smile and no matter who he was with, they would do the same.

"What are you doing here?" You ask, somehow completely forgetting that he was due to perform the next day, which he reminded you of. "Oh! That's really exciting." If you were honest, you were distracted by how he's grown up. He used to be this cute boy that you would trade your fruit snacks for cookies with. But now he was incredibly handsome but still had those captivating eyes that could make you melt.

"This is amazing, I can't believe we ran into each other like this." He pulled you into another hug that brought a blush across your face. You were in a daze as he introduced you to the 2 other guys with him but you didn't really catch their names. You just noticed that they were also incredibly handsome. "But hey, if you're free tonight, we should catch up!" You agreed, thankfully.

And you could say the rest was history but beyond that one fateful day/night, you haven't seen Mark. A full year and a half later, you were entering your second Christmas without him but unfortunately, you weren't able to go home to your family to distract yourself from the boy you wanted to be with during the holidays. Not usually the type to be into overly romantic gestures, you uncharacteristically were craving the experiences that couples usually had in the movies. Your sisters told you countless times to stop watching Hallmark Christmas movies but you really couldn't help it when there was nothing else to watch on TV.

December 23rd. You were staring at your miniature Christmas tree that you had bought for your small apartment. The rest of your apartment was fully decorated in an effort to fill the emptiness you felt but it didn't seem to help much beyond wishing that Mark were there to experience it with you.

It was a perfect Christmas, the snow was falling outside and you reminisced about that rare snow day you had in your West coast town. That day was incredible. It was Christmas Eve and the whole city shut down due to the influx of white that they rarely had to deal with. Mark had banged on your door and begged your parents to let you go out and play despite it being Christmas Eve. That day was spent building snowmen, having snowball fights and everything before everyone went home and passed out to wake up to a white Christmas.

Mark had expressed to you that he missed that the most. Those snow days where everything shut down and you could just go out and be free to run around and have fun. You wished to be able to send some snow to him. But instead, you called him.

"Hi baby, how are you?" He said in a gravely voice as he had just woken up.

"I'm okay, just miss you a lot." You pouted and he copied your expression. "But look!" You showed him the view outside your window, including the snow capped trees and pillows of white on any surface it could cling on.

"Oh my god, that's beautiful." He sighed. "I wish I could be there to see it with you. I hate that you're alone this year for Christmas."

"It's okay." You flash a weak smile. "My coworker is going to drop off some food for me from her parents. I'll just have a Harry Potter marathon."

"Okay. I'll join you for that." He smiles. "My present for you should be showing up soon. I hope it gets there before the 25th."

"Hard to say. Doesn't matter if it does or not, I'm just happy to get something from you." You ease him of his worries. He often got worked up over the smallest things and you found it cute the way he would furrow his eyebrows in frustration only to breathe a sigh of relief when you told him to do so. You were his comfort and he was yours. Even if you were thousands of miles apart.

"I have to get going, love. I'll talk to you later okay?" He says and you are confused as he usually never has nice to do before noon. But you shrugged it off and assumed he just had some year end things to work on.

"Yeah I'll talk to you later. I love you." You blew him a kiss and he did the same before hanging up.

To be honest with yourself, you were starting to hate saying goodbye. Your heart would feel so heavy whenever a call ended and recently, that feeling got worse and worse with every call. Things were starting to feel like they were all for nothing. You trusted Mark and knew him well enough to know you were the only one that would be on his mind but that physical aspect was something you were craving. The simplest things like just being in the same room while you were both quietly working on your own things, exchanging loving glances every so often.

You dozed off watching The Nightmare Before Christmas and was woken up on Christmas Eve by the blinding white of the snow capped exteriors. Confused, you searched for your phone to check the time: 9:27. Mark has never failed to call you at 8AM every single day. It was your routine. It was your ritual. You send him a message but his phone doesn't even receive it. Is his phone off? You ask yourself. He did sound a bit off yesterday… Or was he just tired and groggy? Maybe he's having a late night in the studio. He said he didn't have anything scheduled for a few days though. In an effort to mitigate your panic, you throw your phone to the other side of your bed.

Forcing yourself to roll out of bed and make some coffee to try to dull some of the panic you were feeling. He wouldn't just ice me out on Christmas Eve. He's probably just tired and fell asleep before he could call, you convinced yourself.

It was nearing lunch time and you still didn't hear from your boyfriend. You had spent the morning curled up on the couch watching Disney Channel Original Christmas Movies, trying to distract yourself but every time something romantic happened, you sighed and wished for Mark. His phone still wasn't receiving your messages. Had his phone died?

In desperation, you text the only other person you knew who was close with him: Johnny. You had met Johnny that day that you ran into Mark but never processed it until you began watching their performances on YouTube. Mark had given you Johnny's number so you could apologize for ignoring him but you would occasionally ask him for favours. Usually asking him to get something for Mark from you. He often said, "I only do this because I love Mark and you love Mark."

You [11:34AM]: Hey Johnny? Are you awake?

You [11:34AM]: Merry Christmas, by the way!

It was almost 4AM so you would be surprised if he was still awake but he often stayed up late with Haechan so you figured it was worth a shot.

Johnny [11:39AM]: what's up?

Johnny [11:38AM]: Merry Christmas to you too :)

You [11:40AM]: is Mark okay? I haven't heard from him since last night. I'm getting worried.

You watched as Johnny's message bubble appeared and disappeared a few times. He was hesitating…

Johnny [11:42AM]: he's fine. You'll probably hear from him soon ;)

You [11:42AM]: ?? What's that supposed to mean?

Johnny simply replied with a shrug emoji and you wished you could send a punch through a text message. But you sighed and continued sipping on your hot apple cider as you pressed play on another movie. Johnny doesn't lie so I'll believe him for now.

You had somehow fallen asleep and you only realized when you felt your phone buzzing next to you. Without even checking the caller ID, you press the green answer button and put it on speaker as you tried to pull yourself out of the afternoon nap haze.

"Hello?" You say, barely above a whisper.

"Hey baby, sorry I've missed your messages. Johnny said you were worried about me?" Mark's voice shook you awake. You scrambled to sit up before picking up your phone and taking it off speaker to hear him more clearly.

"Mark? Are you okay?"

He simply laughed, "I'm okay babe. I'm sorry for worrying you." He apologized again.

"No, it's okay. I was just worrying over nothing. What were you doing?"

"I was at the airport." He said and you could tell there was something up by the tone of his voice. Mark could never lie to you even if he tried.

"And?"

"And I need you to come pick me up." He teased and you became even more confused which made you a bit upset as you didn't like being led on.

"Mark I can't, you're in another country." You roll your eyes even though he can't see.

"Baby, I'm not. I'm here." And it finally clicked in your head.

"Wait! You're here? Like here? Like in the same city?" You try not to scream.

"Yes, exactly. I wanted to surprise you better but the snow delayed things…"

"It's okay I'll come now!" You practically yell into the phone.

"Drive carefully!" He warned you before hanging up.

Like a tornado, you tried to clean up your apartment so your boyfriend didn't think you were a complete slob. At the same time, you were trying to pick out a cute outfit and do your hair in an effort to make yourself look somewhat presentable.

With your best effort, you shrugged when you checked yourself in the mirror before pulling on your parka and heading out the door. As your car warmed up, you reminded yourself that Mark had seen you at your literal worst. From the late night mental breakdowns to a hungover morning from having a few too many drinks with your coworkers, Mark had seen it all and always assured you that you looked amazing. Maybe he was lying a few times during those moments but he never made you feel like you were anything less than perfect for him.

You did your best to drive calmly to the airport. There wasn't much of a choice as the other cars on the road were also trying to get to their destinations safely so traffic was moving at a slower pace. After what seemed like the longest car ride you've ever taken, you pulled into a parking stall at the airport and checked your phone to see that Mark had sent you the gate he was at, waiting for his luggage. You practically sprinted across the parking lot and road, having a few close calls with other pedestrians and a few cars. But you couldn't help yourself. You were finally getting to see him.

Arriving at his gate, you tried to catch your breath as you scanned the crowd around the baggage carousel looking for Mark. When the two of you finally made eye contact, you burst through the crowd and jumped into his arms. You thought you would tackle him down but he was surprisingly strong and not only caught you but picked you up, allowing your legs to wrap around him like a koala baby. People aw'd and some even clapped while others pulled out their phones to candidly capture your reunion.

"You're here." You choked back tears, breathing in his scent and making sure you locked it up in your memory for future use.

"I'm here." He breathed into your ear which triggered the tears to start falling. He placed you back on your feet but steadied you in the warmth and safety of his arms. He chuckled while he wiped your tears away, "why are you crying?"

"I don't know, I just missed you so much." You sniffled while looking up at him with wet eyes. It's been so long that you had forgotten that he was taller than you by more than a few centimeters. So when he leaned down to kiss you, you were surprised but also extremely comforted as a wave of warmth filled up the emptiness in your heart.

"My little crybaby." He placed another kiss on your forehead.

You clung on to each other until his suitcase dropped down from the chute. Hand-in-hand, you led him to your car. Amazingly, you navigated the whole way there while beaming up at Mark the whole time. He reciprocated but occasionally pulled you to the side to avoid running into someone else.

The car ride back to your apartment was just full of you two talking about anything and everything. From when he planned all of this and how he managed to get out of his activities to Johnny almost ruining the surprise when he struggled to say something that would both ease your worries but not let you in on the secret. The whole time, Mark's hand was on your thigh as you needed both hands to properly manoeuvre your car through the snow. You sometimes caught Mark looking outside with pure wonder and amazement as he took in the image of the city blanketed by the snow. The smile on your face never left as you tried to process every moment with him to keep in your memories.

"So how long are you staying?" You say as you take the elevator up to your apartment. His arm was wrapped around your shoulders and you had a feeling that your boyfriend who was usually uncomfortable with physical attraction, wouldn't keep a hand off of you the whole time he was there.

"I have to leave the day after Christmas." He says quietly.

Trying not to be upset by the short time together, you reminded yourself that it was better than nothing. "We'll make it work." You say simply to him while learning up to plant a kiss on his cheek.

Mark felt overwhelmed by your apartment. The moment he stepped in, he was greeted by the sweet scent of vanilla and oranges. He tried to take as many mental notes as he could while walking around and taking in every single detail of your place. This was your home and he felt like every little knick-knack strategically placed by you was a piece of you.

"Here." You handed him a cup of apple cider to warm up.

"Thank you." He added a kiss to your temple. Suddenly remembering something, he let out a little gasp before placing his cup down on the coffee table and going to his backpack. He pulled out a box wrapped in red paper and a golden bow that was slightly flattened from its journey to the other side of the world to you.

"What's this?" You ask when he places it in your hands, taking a seat next to you.

"Just open it." He smiles. The excitement was practically bursting from him as he anticipated you opening the box.

"Your gift is probably on the doorstep of your mom's place right now." You sighed.

"It's okay baby, I can't wait to open it but just open yours now." He said.

The lid lifted to reveal a necklace with a delicate golden chain and a little purple gem dangling from it. "Mark…" you coo, your eyes welling up with tears again.

"Are you going to cry again?" He laughs and you playfully poke his side. "I know purple is your favourite colour… It's not much but I thought you'd like it." He said softly while he fixed it around your neck. You smiled up at him before you situated yourself in his lap, straddling his thighs.

"It's perfect." You kiss him, "what else did you get me?" You pull back when he tries to deepen the kiss.

"What do you mean?" He stared blankly at you.

"You said it's not much so where's the rest of my present?" You say mischievously.

"You said it's perfect but you want more?" He cocks an eyebrow up.

"Well… I haven't seen you in a year and a half, there has to be more." You tease.

"I'm your present aren't I?" He smirks, grabbing the bow from the box and sticking it onto his head.

"I guess…" you laugh while leaning in to kiss him again. "You're lucky you're cute." You say as he stands up, making sure to wrap your legs around him before turning towards your bedroom.

[hermannsthumb]

Could you please write #43 grandparents/neighbors one?

43. we’re having our family meal at my grandparents’ house this year so fingers crossed your parents still live next door and you grew up to be even hotter

from winter writing prompts here

oh god this one got so long. sorry everyone! thank you to @k-sci-janitor for the alien bit because it was so fucking funny

------------

Holidays have gotten a little weird to manage since Newt transformed into a fully-fledged adult with an apartment and a job and stuff, so while he hasn’t made it to the big Geiszler celebration in Germany every December since starting college out of elementary school, he still tries to make a point of dropping by his dad’s for dinner and a movie or something to fill his holiday quota. It’s fine by him; he loves his family, but they’re definitely overwhelming, and trying to submit final grades and work on syllabuses for the next semester all while distant relatives ruffle his hair and ask him when he’s going to hit his growth spurt is not his idea of a relaxing time. It’s a constant point of contention between him and his dad. This year more than most, apparently.

“Your grandmother misses you!” he tells Newt sadly over their Chinese takeout. “She calls me every week to ask how you are, and why you never visit with them. Every week.” He waves a fork at Newt. “You’re breaking her heart.”

“I’m in the lab, like, twenty-four-seven, dad,” Newt sighs. It’s a well-rehearsed conversation at this point, but it doesn’t get any less tiresome. Especially because he knows his dad is lying about the phone call thing—Newt is a great grandson and texts his grandmother plenty, thank you very much, he would know if he was breaking her heart. “I’m working straight through winter break this year. Seriously.”

“That’s what you did last year,” Newt’s dad says. “And the year before that…” Newt turns the volume up on the TV to cut his dad off before he can segue into the next part of his argument, which is (usually) that Newt needs to work on his personal life, maybe settle down, produce some grandkids of his own. Or at least adopt a cat. Also well-rehearsed.

He’s not sure why he says what he does next—maybe in a desperate attempt to distract his dad further. Maybe because of the sudden onslaught of childhood memories the mention of his grandparents’ house brought on. “Hey, do you remember that boy who used to live next door to grandma?” he says. “He had the weird haircut and always dressed kind of funny?” Old-fashioned, and a little too formal for the sort of things that little kids tend to do, climbing trees or playing in the mud—sweatervests and polished loafers and starched-white knee-highs.

Newt’s dad blinks at him. Newt half expects him to declare that Newt is nuts, and that he has no idea what he’s talking about, like this is one of those horror stories where the childhood friend turns out to be some ghost who died fifty years prior. The clothing would match up, he guesses. But he smiles in recognition a moment later. “You mean the Gottlieb boy?” he says.

“Gottlieb,” Newt echoes. It sounds familiar enough. “Hermann, I think. When I’d stay with grandma for the summer we would play together every day. I wonder what he’s doing now.” Hermann was a smart guy, a real geek like Newt; he used to carry a graphing calculator around in his pocket and build the most goddamn pristine model spacecrafts Newt had ever seen. Hermann’s dad shipped him off to a prestigious boarding school the last summer Newt spent there, when they were around twelve or so. Newt started at MIT not long after. “Dude’s probably designing rocket ships by now or something.”

“You could ask him yourself if you came with me,” Newt’s dad laughs. “The Gottliebs never moved away, and their children actually visit. I’m sure your Hermann visits, too.”

“Ha,” Newt says. “Yeah.”

It’s snowing by the time Newt and his dad finish their movie, and Newt (fearing his dad’s driving even in ideal conditions) declines the offer of a lift home to trudge his way through it to his T stop instead. It’s nice to have the chance to be alone with his thoughts, anyway, because he can’t seem to get funny little Hermann Gottlieb out of his head. What is he doing now?

A quick Facebook search on the train produces a few Hermann Gottliebs, but none of them promising—none of them have the brown eyes or strangely angular face (devoid of any baby fat even that young) Newt remembers, none of them are from the right German countryside, none of them went to a preppy English boarding school. Google (utilizing the information Newt does have) is a little more rewarding, and by the time Newt presses the button to request his stop, he’s scrounged up a decent amount of info: Hermann Gottlieb has a doctorate in astrophysics, Hermann Gottlieb publishes papers at a slightly terrifying rate, and Hermann Gottlieb turned out kinda hot.

As Newt stares down at a slightly grainy current photograph of his old friend—haircut and clothing unchanged, a cane in hand, some round librarian glasses perched on the end of his nose, wide mouth twisted into a scowl—he suddenly recalls another thing about Hermann Gottlieb: the summer Hermann was sent away to boarding school was the summer that Hermann kissed Newt goodbye, shyly and tearfully, under the shade of the tall maple tree in his yard. It was the last time Newt ever saw Hermann. It was Newt’s first kiss.

“Oh, boy,” Newt says.

He texts his dad when he gets back to his apartment. When do we leave?

Newt feels like the belle of the fucking ball when he steps into his grandparents’ house a week later, snow dusting his shoulders, small suitcase clenched in his hand. His cheeks are kissed; his scarf and hat and leather jacket are brushed off and tossed onto a coat rack; his hair is in parts smoothed down (too messy!) and ruffled (too flat!); he’s hugged more times than he has been in the entire last year, probably. “Still playing around with bugs in the dirt, eh, Newt?” his grandfather booms, tucking Newt into the crook of his arm with enough force to knock Newt’s glasses off.

“Actually,” Newt squeaks, scrambling for both what he remembers of his very rusty German, and his glasses before they can hit the ground, “entomology isn’t really my main focus at—”

“Newt’s studying jellyfish now,” Newt’s dad declares proudly. “He went on a diving expedition this July.”

“Diving? How exciting,” Newt’s grandmother says.

“Yeah,” Newt says. He pushes his glasses back on. “Yeah, it was fascinating, I was lucky to get the funding for it. You wouldn’t believe the sorts of—”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Newt’s cousin says.

“My little Newt’s a daredevil!” Newt’s dad says.

“It’s not that dangerous,” Newt says. “As long as you’re—”

“What happened to that nice man your father said you were dating?” Newt’s grandfather says. “With the, the what was it, the poetry? The poet? We thought you’d bring him!”

Newt flushes. Trust his dad to talk up some random guy Newt dated in March like it was a long-term affair and not an elongated one-night stand that fizzled out after three weeks. Though maybe that one’s on Newt—it’s not like he mentioned the one-night stand part to his dad, after all. He definitely didn’t mention that the guy ended it with a poem, too. “We broke up,” he says, weakly. He wriggles out from the throng of the crowd. “Look, it’s so great seeing you all, but I’m actually, like, really tired, soooooo…?”

“Oh, of course you are,” Newt’s grandmother says. She pats his head. “What a long flight you must have had! We’ll send someone up for you for dinner—you can have your old guest room.”

“Cool,” Newt says.

He scurries up the stairs.

The guest room he slept in during those summers is almost exactly the way he remembers it, but a little dustier—the floral quilt on the bed, his grandma’s sewing table crammed into the corner, the bookcase stocked with a weird combination of kid’s books and illustrated encyclopedias that Newt used to pore over for hours as a kid, often with Hermann. Newt draws back the embroidered curtains and peers out the window at the Gottliebs’ snow-capped house next door. Hermann’s window was directly across from his. It still is, technically, though the curtains (these navy blue and embroidered with little constellations) are pulled tight, and Newt has a feeling that Hermann hasn’t set foot in his old room in well over a decade. Two decades, probably.

He remembers the one summer he showed Hermann how to make a soup can telephone, and they managed to string it all the way across between their windows before discovering it kinda didn’t work as well as Newt said it would. He remembers when Hermann’s dad banned him from the Gottlieb house for tracking water all over their front hallway after he and Hermann went wading in the creek, but it was really Hermann who did it, because he forgot to take his shoes off and they got soaked, and Newt just took the fall for it so Hermann wouldn’t get in trouble. And when Hermann asked Newt to play astronaut with him, and Newt insisted on being an alien and mimed the chestburster scene from Alien, and Hermann freaked out so bad he fell in a mud puddle and got grounded for ruining his clothing, and Newt got grounded for that and for watching Alien when he wasn’t supposed to, and they spent the following few days staring sadly out across at each other before Newt’s grandma finally got tired of his moping and sent him to work weeding the garden. He remembers knotting a little friendship bracelet for Hermann out of embroidery thread he found in his grandmother’s sewing basket and Hermann vowing to keep it until he died.

Newt’s half of the soup can phone is still on the windowsill, though the string snapped and crumbled apart years ago. He picks at the peeling Chicken Noodle label, so distracted that he almost doesn’t notice the light suddenly seeping through at the edges of Hermann’s curtains, or the way they’re pushed open—almost.

Hermann—real, live, adult Hermann, botched haircut and round glasses and all—stares out at Newt with a shocked expression on his face. Newt drops the can with a clatter.

Then he waves.

“Hey, Grandma?” Newt says, poking his head into the kitchen. Tonight’s dinner is a massive pot of soup boiling away on the stovetop, dessert a mountain of cookies and tiny pastries on serving platters on the counters. Newt hasn’t had food that looked this good since he moved out, to be honest. The intersection of Newt’s sad lack of cooking skills and his attempts at vegetarianism means he eats a lot of boxed mac-and-cheese and frozen Vegetable Lovers’ pizzas. “Are you—?"

“Oh, Newt!” Newt’s grandmother says. She sets down her wooden spoon. “Are you feeling rested, then?”

“Yeah,” Newt says. “Grandma, I was wondering, could I—uh—maybe run some food over to the Gottliebs? To be…neighborly? We just have so much, and—”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Newt’s grandmother says. “They keep to themselves, mostly, but I can’t imagine they’d turn it down. You might even see your little friend again! What was his name? You were so fond of him.”

“Hermann,” Newt says, quickly shoving cookies into a red-lid plastic container. “Thanks, Grandma.”

He tucks the tupperware under his arm and nearly wipes out on the icy front path he runs to the Gottliebs’ so fast. Before he can so much as catch his breath and knock, their door swings open; Hermann, dressed in a tacky Hannukah sweater, arches an eyebrow at him. “I saw you sprint over here like a bloody madman,” he says, in blessed English. He must’ve remembered how shitty Newt’s German was when they were kids. “Hello, Newton. What’s so terribly important?”

His voice got deeper—expected—and he swapped out his German accent for an English one somewhere along the way. Probably at his stuffy boarding school. He also got taller—he’s got a few inches on Newt now, but Newt admits that’s not exactly hard. God, he’s even hotter in person. “Uh,” Newt says. Why is he here? Oh, right. He thrusts out the tupperware. “I brought some cookies over for you?”

Hermann peers down at the offering over his glasses. His forehead wrinkles. “How considerate,” he says. He pulls an olive-green parka on and steps out onto the porch, tugging the door shut behind him. He taps at a peeling porch swing with the end of his cane. “Just leave them there. Would you like to take a walk?”

It’s freezing, and snowing, but for some reason, a walk sounds like the best idea in the world right now. “Yes, please,” Newt says, and chucks the cookies onto the swing.

“I must say,” Hermann says, after their meandering walk around the Gottliebs’ yard takes them to the old maple tree. The branches are bare, but thick, and shield them from most of the falling snow. Hermann’s breath puffs out white in front of his angular face. The last time I stood here, Newt thinks, he kissed me. “I really did not expect to see you.”

“I didn’t expect to see you, either,” Newt admits. “From what I remember, you and your family weren’t—uh—well, very close. I didn’t think you’d be coming back to share in the holiday cheer with them, is what I mean.”

The corner of Hermann’s mouth twitches up. “That’s certainly one way of describing it. Yes, I suppose you’re right—my father is a bit of a bastard, isn’t he?” Newt laughs awkwardly, unsure whether to agree or attempt to weakly the defend a guy who openly hated him for being a bad influence on Hermann most of his childhood; he’s grateful when Hermann continues and saves him the choice. “This is the first year I’ve come home in a long while. My brother’s just had a daughter, you see, and I thought I should start getting used to playing uncle.”

“Oh, congrats,” Newt says. Hermann shrugs, and Newt has the distinct feeling that this is Hermann’s older brother, who used to dissemble Hermann’s telescope and hide the pieces around the house when Hermann annoyed him, and tattled on Newt and Hermann to Hermann’s parents the one time Newt snuck in to see Hermann after he got banned. He always made Newt thankful that he was an only child. “Same here, actually. Not the uncle thing—I mean I haven’t visited since I was in college. Too busy.”

“I know,” Hermann says, and then adds teasingly (in a way that makes color flood Newt’s cheeks and his heart beat just a little faster), “I’ve looked you up online. Er—quite a bit recently, in fact. I was curious. You’ve made quite the name for yourself, haven’t you, Dr. Geiszler?”

“I,” Newt squeaks, and then coughs. “I mean, I guess? I like…science.”

“I oughtn’t be surprised,” Hermann says. “You were always giving me bugs, and salamanders, and funny little frogs—”

Newt liked bugs, and salamanders, and frogs, but he liked Hermann more, and the gifts had a lot more to do with the latter than the former, because what kid wouldn’t want bugs or salamanders or frogs, right? Not that Hermann ever appreciated them—especially not the worms Newt would pluck from the sidewalks after rainstorms. He thinks he got grounded for that one, too, because his grandma wouldn’t believe that he really wasn’t trying to terrorize the poor Gottlieb boy. “And what about you?” Newt says. He pokes his elbow into Hermann’s side. “Dr. Gottlieb? Guess those model rockets paid off.”

(“No, Newton,” Hermann would snap at him on the rare occasions he would allow Newt to watch him piece one together, “the glue hasn’t dried yet. You have to be patient, or else it’ll fall apart.”)

“Not yet,” Hermann says, “but I hope soon.”

Hermann smiles at him. A snowflake catches in his eyelashes—his long, pretty, dark eyelashes. “Do you remember when you kissed me here?” Newt blurts out.

“It’s hardly the sort of thing I’d forget,” Hermann says. He reaches out and tucks a piece of Newt’s hair up into his hat. “I like your tattoos—I saw the photographs on your social media accounts. They suit you.” Newt wonders if this means Hermann saw the shirtless selfie he posted on Instagram. “I’m also pleased to see you’ve gotten your braces removed. It wasn’t a very pleasant experience last time.”

Then he leans in and kisses Newt. Again, technically. It’s so light and brief Newt hardly believes it even happened. Their glasses clack together, and when Hermann pulls away, he straightens out Newt’s.

“I confess,” Hermann says, “that I’m wholly pleased to see how you’ve turned out. I hope that wasn’t too forward of me. I’ve been thinking about doing it all night.”

“Jeez, dude,” Newt says, blinking at him, his head swimming just a little. Hermann looks smug. “Not, uh, not too forward. So. Uh. You wanna get dinner or something this week and catch up?”

Hermann snorts, and nods.

[peterman-spideyparker]

Eternally (Bucky Barnes x Reader) Part 3/?

Author’s Note: WAAASSSSSUP! I have been MIA on the fic scene for a super long time. I was just really uninspired and with school adjusting to the pandemic, things were just kinda difficult. My inspiration came back around December, so I started to write new fics and rewrite old ones, like this one. My writing style has changed since I started this in like 2017, so I’ve updated it, but it’s still in tone with the parts that have already been posted. I’ll try and keep posting, but school always comes first. Remember, this fic has flashbacks, which appear in italics, and the flashbacks aren’t in chronological order of their happenings. Everything that’s typed in normal font, though, is present day and chronological. I really hope you guys enjoy, and let me know if you want to be tagged! :)

Summary: A lunch break is just what you needed for both your sore arms and for your nostalgic heart. Everything is fine until one familiar face from long ago appears in the kitchen.

Warnings: Fluff, angst

Other Characters: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers

Word Count: 600

“Mm,” you hum as you lick your lips. “Just as good as I remember it.”

“I have never seen someone down a burger so quickly,” Tony laughs, sipping his shake.

“These burgers are the best around,” you say. “They bring back a lot of good memories.”

“I have to agree,” Tony says. “I would have never have known about this place if good ol’ Cap never dragged us there. He says he used to go there all the time back in the day when he was skinny.”

“Are you calling me fat in front of the new girl?” you hear a new voice tease.

“There you are, Rogers!” Tony calls, swinging around on the barstool to greet a familiar face. “We were just talking about you! Steve, this is Melissa, Bruce’s new lab partner.”

His gaze drifts to you, and your heart stops for a beat when his eyes grow wide, his pupils dilating. “Oh my God,” he whispers. “(Y/N)?”

“Melissa,” you say. “(Y/N) was my grandmother.”

“Small world,” he mumbles. You can tell he doesn’t buy it.

“I assume you knew her well?”

“Bucky knew her far better than I did, but yes, we were friends.”

“Alright,” Tony says, breaking the awkward silence that had grown. “Since you to clearly have a connection, I’ll let you catch up.”

You don’t protest his departure, but just stare.

“Fry?” you finally ask, doing anything to change the subject as you offer him the cardboard container while you sip your chocolate shake.

“It’s you, isn’t it, (Y/N)?” he responds. “I just don’t know how. You weren’t frozen for 75 years, you weren’t a prisoner of war—.”

“You know, Tony mentioned something about an insanely good ice cream mom and pop kind of shop, maybe I should—.”

“Stop avoiding my questions and tell me the truth,” he says, forcing you to look at him. “It’s one thing to have a family resemblance, but it’s a completely other thing to look and sound identical to someone separated by at least a generation. How is this possible? How are you here?”

“I think we’d need more than fries and ice cream for that,” you say quietly, your voice laden with fear.

“I’ve got time and Tony has a fridge full of wine, if that helps.”

You give him a gentle nod and move from the barstool to get rid of your things from the countertop. “C-Can we go and talk about this somewhere more private?” you ask.

“Of course,” he nods.

A few minutes later with full glasses of wine, you situate yourselves on Steve’s bed, and Steve lets Tony’s AI, FRIDAY, know that we’re not to be disturbed.

“So,” Steve starts as he leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“I used to be normal. I swear,” you whisper, your gaze locked on a patch of the floor. “It wasn’t always like this. Something just changed one day. But I have no clue what changed.”

“Well, we have a full bottle of wine to talk it over.”

You let out a long sigh and close your eyes, gently shaking your head before looking at him, ready to relieve a weight off of your chest you’ve carried for ages.

“If we’re gonna do this, we need to start from the beginning,” you tell him, silent tears rolling down your cheeks. “I am (Y/N) (Y/L/N). In the 40s, I lived in Brooklyn, and I worked as a nurse. I am still 28 biologically, like I was back then. But I’m not really 28. I was born on December 31, 1835.”

Permanent Taglist: @majesticavenger​​​​​​​ @steampowerednightvaler​​​​​​​​ @themusingsofmany​​​​​​​​ @just-the-hiddles​​​​​​​​ @toozmanykids​​​​​ @dangertoozmanykids101​​​​

[dulce-pjm]

all roads lead to you

word count: 4.2k

genre: fluff, angst

summary: nothing is more frustrating than standstill traffic. you should be long home, but instead you’re stuck in your car. alone, cold, and pissed. but when an old friend catches your eye, you might find it less difficult to bear the frustration and freezing weather. 

You slam your hand on the horn and scream. 

Nothing happens. Other than a few people yelling that you’re crazy from the safety of their cars, which, like yours, are completely and totally still. 

It’s been like this for twenty minutes. You could have been home by now, curled up under the covers or chatting over coffee with your dad. But no. You were stuck in standstill traffic because of the shitty winter weather. And even worse, your gas tank is low. You knew you’d need to turn off the car soon and just suffer the cold if you planned on making it to your house. But you grant yourself a few more minutes of warmth, halfway hoping it’ll thaw your cold, frozen heart. 

So much for the holiday spirit. 

“Jeez, Y/N, you could have at least warned me! I have my phone to my ear.” You breathe out through your teeth, attempting to quell the anger and frustration rising in your chest. 

“Sorry, Jimin. I’m just-”

“Pissed? I could tell.” Jimin chuckles sweetly through the phone, making you roll your eyes. Even when he was teasing, it felt like he was paying you a compliment and even you couldn’t be mad. Infuriating. 

“Just check the weather channel already, would you?”

“I just got home from the store, gimme a sec.” 

“Yeah, yeah...” 

The car beside you honks their horn. Good effort, buddy, but you’ve already tried that. You grab your strawberry chapstick from the cupholder and start slathering it on your lips. It’s instinct to do it at this point. You hate chapped lips and you hate winter even more for making chapped lips a problem for you. 

Through the speaker, you hear Jimin shuffling around his house and fumbling with the plastic grocery bags. Kid’s never been particularly quiet. 

“Didn’t you tell me you were going to the store like an hour ago? What took you so long, the corner store is right down the street.” You hear Jimin drop something and curse. 

“I got a bit-” Crash. “-caught up. I’ve been a little distracted since.” You scoff. He’d been a clumsy idiot since high school. You weren’t surprised even a grocery trip gave him trouble. 

“You okay, kid? If you’re busy you don’t have to stay on the line.”

“No, it’s okay! I want to, just give me a sec, okay?”

“Okay...” The neighboring car honks the horn again. You think you might even hear shouting. You wonder if people would actually riot over a prolonged traffic jam. You hope they do, kinda sounds like fun. 

“Well, shit, Y/N.” That can’t be good. “It just started snowing outside.” 

“Ugh, really?”

“Yeah, really. I’m about to turn on the tv but I think that might be your answer.”

The car next to you honks a third time, this time prolonged and obnoxious. You wish you had something to bash your head with. 

And then you think you hear your name. No, you’re certain someone is shouting your name from outside your car. You slowly turn your head to the left only to see the last person you would ever expect. 

“Y/N! Hey!” You’re caught frozen, chapstick hovering above your bottom lip. 

“Yeah, weather’s getting bad, but I think there was an accident ahead of you, so traffic should be moving soon. Oh, well that actually looks pretty awful, so maybe not? Do you want me to see if I can pick you up?” You aren’t listening to Jimin in the slightest when your eyes are locked with a certain individual’s. 

“Hey, Jimin?” The words are whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear. 

“Might be a few hours- yeah?” You gulp, unable to tear your gaze away. 

“I’m gonna call you back.”

“What? Y/N-”

You hang up the phone, still staring at the boy just a few feet away, separated only by your car doors. He’s waving madly, a massive, boxy grin stretched across his face. 

You roll your window down, unable to wipe the fearful and incredulous expression off of your features. Shivers run down your spine. Because of the cold, obviously.

“Taehyung?”

He hasn’t changed at all. His mess of brown hair is still overgrown and tousled, bangs barely poking over his eyes. His features are sharp and intimidating, but the goofy smile he always carries makes him nothing but approachable. Huggable. Even his outfit is reminiscent of your high school years, a rumpled plaid button up thrown over a white t-shirt. It’s almost like looking into the past, looking into a mirror but seeing your younger self instead. 

Your heart squeezes in your chest. 

“Y/N!” Taehyung sighs in relief, falling back into his seat. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for like five minutes now. What were you doing?” 

“I-” You’re stammering, struggling for words. Are you these nerves you’re feeling? Nerves? You’re not sure, but what you do know is that you feel like a clumsy eighteen-year-old again. “I was on the phone with Jimin, actually.” Taehyung’s eyes crinkle in delight at that. 

“No way, really? I was talking to him earlier. Did he tell you about the girl he met? He’d tried to play it cool but I can tell he’s already whipped.” You laugh breathlessly, still trying to wrap your mind around the situation. Taehyung- your Taehyung- talking to you like you were, what, old friends? Like nothing had ever happened?

“No, he didn’t.” You realize you’re still holding your open chapstick and quickly shove the cap on and toss it back into its designated cup holder. 

“Well, you should ask. It’s pretty cute seeing him all flustered.” You nod, cursing yourself for letting him make you feel like this. He’s the only one who ever made you feel so soft, so nervous, so small. He’s always had you melting. You hate it. 

“Well,” Taehyung pauses, searching your face, “how have you been?”

“Good, good.” You let the December chill shock you back to reality, force your mind to start moving. You should just treat it just like running into an old high school buddy, why should it be weird? “What about you?”

“I’m great! Though sitting in a car this long is making my back ache.” You nod in agreement. You weren’t gonna say it, but your ass was killing you. Without you offering any further comment, the man continues, suddenly looking as nervous as you feel. He throws a hand to the back of his neck, scratching anxiously. “Hey, I don’t really think this traffic is going anywhere and I’m starving. Wanna grab a quick bite to eat and catch up?” 

“Yes.” The words leave your lips before you have time to think, to reason, to be logical. 

And that’s how you end up slurping noodles across from your high school sweetheart. 

“Market research? Makes sense, you always did like numbers.” You roll your eyes, but the gesture holds no malice or annoyance. 

“There’s a bit more to it than that.” Taehyung smirks, shoveling his ramen into his mouth like it’s the last meal he’ll ever eat. Even when he dips his head to take another bite, his eyes never leave yours, making you squirm in your seat. 

“Well, are you gonna tell me or make me google it?” A small chuckle leaves your lips against your will. 

“Nah, it’d bore you.” You ignore the flash of disappointment in your ex’s eyes. “Last I heard, you were an art major?”

“Oh, no, not anymore,” Taehyung replies, shaking his head. He cracks his knuckles one by one, a sign you’ve long learned is one of nervousness and apprehension. You guess he didn’t love discussing this topic. Good, it’d make him less... comfortable with you.  “I’m pre-law now.”

You nearly spit out your drink.

“What? You’re lying.” Taehyung laughs, the pleasant sound making your stomach squeeze. 

“I’m not! I promise.” But you’re too intrigued now to let it go, and just like that, Taehyung’s pulled you in again. 

“I’m sorry to pry, but how did you, the Kim Taehyung, art genius, end up choosing law?!” You lean back in the booth, ready for the explanation of a lifetime. 

“Well, it’s not like I stopped doing art altogether,” he protests, mimicking your posture. “But I ended up taking a poly-sci class freshman year because it sounded interesting and easy. And then I ended up taking a philosophy class and I really enjoyed that. And then I met this really cool and chill lawyer that works with this nonprofit to change immigration laws and long story short, I realized I had taken enough prerequisites to switch my major and so I did. I guess I plan on being a lawyer now.”

You don’t know why you’re surprised. Of course he’d ‘go-with-the-flow’-ed his way into pursuing a law career. The most relaxed, unregimented person you knew had just happened to think law was cool and went with it. 

“Wow.” It’s all you can muster for the moment. “Is it working out well for you?” Taehyung cocks his head, giving you a knowing look.

“If you’re asking if I’m flunking all my classes, the answer is no, Y/N.” You immediately feel heat rush to your cheeks, embarrassment fill your chest. You quickly lower your drink from your lips. 

“No! That’s not what I meant!” A grin plays dangerously on his lips. Is he enjoying this? Seeing you flustered and caught off guard? You push the thought aside. “It’s just not like you, that’s all. You never were one for textbooks and memorizing and structure. And that’s what law is, right?” Taehyung shrugs, returning to his meal. 

“Yeah.” He takes a big bite, chewing while he talks. Guess that’s a habit he never broke. “But I think I could help people. I’m serious about it. And when I’m serious about something-” He swallows, eyeing you intently. “-I’m gonna do the work and chase after it, you know?” You gulp. 

“Yeah, I guess so.” Overwhelmed by his gaze, your eyes shift outside, watching the snow lightly fall. You can remember taking walks in the chilly weather with a certain person who may or may not be across from you. You remember shoving snow down each other’s jackets, gripping on each other for dear life when you started slipping on the ice, sneaking kisses as the sun set and the two of you were frozen to the bone. You remember hating the cold until you had Taehyung by your side, keeping you warm. You can feel his warmth now, comforting and inviting. It scares you immensely. 

“Do you remember the time we fell down the hill near your and Jimin’s house?” You gape at him, feeling like he stole the thought from your mind. Taehyung doesn’t notice your look, too caught up in the memory, a light chuckle echoing from his chest. “I lost my favorite hat during that fall!” You glare. 

“Not to mention my arm was broken.” Taehyung smirks. 

“And who took you to the hospital and stayed by your side?” You feign ignorance. 

“Hmm, Jimin?” you deadpan. Taehyung gasps, dramatic as always. 

“You forgot already?! I was your knight in shining armor, you know.” You scoff to yourself, eyes on your soup. 

“Yeah, I know.”

“I miss back then. We didn’t know how good we had it.” You quirk a brow, wondering if he means what it sounds like.

“We have it good now, Taehyung. That’s what you’ll be saying in a few years, at least.” Taehyung considers this and nods, sipping on his water. Your eyes linger on his lips for a moment too long.

“Right as always, Y/N.”

You can’t take it anymore. The question’s been plaguing you since you saw him in the car. It’s too painful without knowing, without understanding. The way he calls your name, the old habits he still falls back on, the new ones you’re itching to learn. It’s all too much. 

“Taehyung.”

“Mmm?” He’s gone back to work on his noodles, hunger seemingly insatiable. 

“Why are you talking to me? Why are you being nice to me?” Taehyung meets your eyes while he drinks his broth, leaving you in torturous silence for several moments. And then he shrugs. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” And now you’re annoyed. You shoot Taehyung a dark look that he doesn’t entertain for even a moment. He’s always been the more mature one out of you two. 

“You know why.”

“I don’t.” He’s relishing in the way you’re squirming, panicking. You can feel it. The little shit. Your nerves are overtaken by annoyance as you angrily switch to picking at your food. The two of you fall into a silence that Taehyung doesn’t attempt to fill, instead letting you sulk like the child he knew you were. 

It’s been nearly two years but the memories are still fresh. You’ve always been told that time heals all wounds, and in a way it does. The memories don’t hurt as much as they used to, thinking about them for too long doesn’t bring tears to your eyes. The sadness and heartbreak faded away, leaving resent and regret and shame in its wake. It was almost worse. Knowing what you did, who you were back then. Knowing you can’t change it or take your words back. 

When your eyes lift again, they find Taehyung smirking at you, amused at the private hissy fit you’ve been throwing in your side of the booth. 

You feel the heat rise to your cheeks. You suppose that while you were observing how Taehyung was exactly the same, mellow and unfazed by your antics, he was thinking the same thing about you, noting that your moody personality and attitude remained constant. 

It was moments like these that ultimately led to your relationship’s failure. It was a high school romance, after all. Naive to think it’d last. You were insecure, immature, uncomfortable with vulnerability while he was just the opposite. It made you angry, how he could just sit there and watch while you were exploding uncontrollably with emotion. But even more so, you were jealous of him. He was nice and approachable. You were judgmental and pessimistic. Anyone else would laugh at the thought of you two ever being together.

But once you found yourself in his vicinity, you never wanted to leave again. He had pulled you in, made you feel soft and sweet. In turn, you made him feel brave and adventurous, more willing to take risks and work hard if it meant having another moment with you. You were addicted to his light and he was addicted to yours. 

In the end, you relied on him too much to pull you out of the dumps, to give you hope.

But as the both of you realized that your futures were branching apart, that there was a chance this wasn’t going to work, you both started to self-sabotage. It was a dangerous trait for one person to have in a relationship, borderline explosive with two. You got madder, more irritable. You were looking for a reason to be upset with him so you didn’t have to deal with sadness of him being gone. And he was looking for a reason to let you go, to release himself from the guilt when he knew how you were feeling. 

You regretted all of it. Every last word that left your mouth. You regretted succumbing to your fears and letting them control you. You’d worked on changing that over the past few years, worked on becoming more in control, more at one with your emotions. 

But sitting across from Taehyung, you were absolutely terrified your old habits would sneak their way back in. That you’d fuck it all up just like you did last time. 

“Wanna get ice cream?” You sharply turn your head in his direction, feeling like you were going through emotional whiplash. 

“What?”

“That gelato place is down the street, if I remember right.” A sweet smile sits on Taehyung’s face as if you hadn’t just passive-aggressively tried to get him to admit what his intentions were. 

“You want to get gelato?” He nods excitedly, fumbling to get out his wallet and pay for his lunch.

“It should be open, I think. I can pay if you’re worried about that, I don’t mind. And traffic still isn’t moving.” Your eyes narrow. 

“You want to get gelato when it’s snowing?” Taehyung shrugs sheepishly, handing his card to the waiter and insisting he can pay for you in spite of your protests. 

“Why not? Let’s to do it, for old times’ sake.” You sigh, allowing yourself to further indulge in his presence. 

“Sure.”

You’re feeling particularly soft while spooning mint chocolate chip ice cream into your mouth and sitting on the sidewalk curb. It makes you just stupid enough to say what you’ve been thinking for the past two years. 

“I’m sorry, Taehyung.” He looks at you curiously, his lips slightly parted as he struggles to keep his strawberry scoop from falling off the cone. 

“Why are you sorry?” You inwardly cringe but push forward. You deserve to get this off your chest, to say the words you should have said all along. He deserves to hear it, too.

“I hurt you.” Taehyung doesn’t argue, so you elaborate further. “I was petty and childish and I didn’t deserve you. I took what I had for granted and I hurt you. I’m sorry.” 

When your once-boyfriend doesn’t respond, you force yourself to look away from the mint chocolate chip and study his expression. 

He looks slightly shocked, understandably. You weren’t the kind of person to admit when you were wrong very often. The person Taehyung knew definitely would not be admitting she’s wrong right now. 

But then, to your surprise, he starts to laugh. And laugh. And laugh. 

You blush, expression indignant.  

“Why are you laughing at me?” He attempts to answer but the words get caught in his throat as he attempts to catch his breath. You can’t help but give him a light shove. “It isn’t funny! I’m being serious.”

After a few moments, Taehyung starts to regain composure and wipe away the tears from his eyes. He’s positively endeared at the way you’re pouting to yourself, playing with your ice cream like a toddler. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I know you’re being serious.” He draws in a deep breath. “You really haven’t changed at all, have you?” 

You’re suddenly ashamed. Because you’d tried. You’d tried to change. You’d tried to better, but you guessed it wasn’t good enough. Taehyung saw right through you, saw how terrible you were. He probably thought you were insincere and simply saving face, or maybe-

“Always blaming yourself.” You freeze. That’s not exactly what you were expecting. 

“What?” A shiver runs down your spine as the cold finally seeps its way through your thick coat. Of course you were to blame, what was he even thinking? You were the one who’d acted like a child and told him to leave. You were the one who walked away.

“There was so many things I should have said to you, but I didn’t. I was an idiot. We both were. We were kids, Y/N. Stop think it’s all your fault and cut yourself some slack instead.” He shifts his body towards you, looking at you earnestly. “See the situation as it really was. We were young and naive and we made mistakes. And I don’t know about you, but I forgave you and regretted everything the minute you walked out the door.”

You laugh humorlessly, rubbing at the tip of your nose as it burns from the temperature. 

“No, I did too.” You pause, glancing his way. “Seems like you’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this.” Taehyung throws his head back and laughs, the sound comforting and sweet. 

“Speak for yourself.” That signature mischievous look crosses his face. “You know, I’d really love to hear that apology again, actually.”

“Huh? Why?” A sense of unease crosses your stomach. You have a feeling you’re about to be annoyed. 

“It’s not every day I get to hear the words ‘I’m sorry’ from the L/N Y/N. Actually, can I record you? I’d love to make it my ringtone.” You cover the giggle that threatens to leave you with a scoff while you jab at the sensitive spot in his abdomen. Taehyung yelps, nearly leaping to his feet and away from you. 

“Jerk!” If the snow hadn’t solidified into ice, you’d grab a bunch of it and toss it in his face. 

“Hey! That’s such a cheap move!” You roll your eyes at his protests. 

“You started it, idiot. Don’t expect me not to retaliate.” 

“Still, you could have skipped the retaliation tactic that makes me scream like a kid.”

You stare out at the cars, still stationary. The part of you that wishes you were home is rapidly shrinking, but you don’t notice 

“I was scared back then. I felt like you were leaving me behind when you decided to move off for college. I didn’t have direction and thought I would just hold you back.” Taehyung nods, finishing off his ice cream cone. 

“I was scared, too. I thought I was just stringing you along and one day you’d realize you were too good for me and leave.”

You scoff, shoveling another spoonful of ice cream into your mouth. 

“You? Too good for me?”

“Ridiculous, right? I am pretty great.” You shoot him a look and he instinctively protects his side, but you decide to spare him. 

“I’ve always been scared. Of you, mostly.” Your lips feel dry. You wish you hadn’t left your chapstick in the car. Taehyung hesitates, cracking his knuckles. 

“You still scared of me now, Y/N?” You sigh, needing no time to know your answer. 

“No, not anymore. I’m scared of myself. That I’ll hurt you again.”

“You shouldn’t be.” You meet his eyes, an unspoken agreement passing between the two of you. An agreement to put the past to rest. To forgive yourselves, to look forward. 

“I missed you,” he murmurs, dark eyes staring deeply into yours. A warm hand settles over yours on the pavement. “A lot.”

“I missed you too,” you reply softly. “A lot.”

You don’t need to say anything more. You both already know what the other is thinking. You fall into silence as the two of you watch the snow fall, looking away from each other. You almost feel like you might float away, but Taehyung’s hand grounds you. 

You feel calm. You have the closure you’ve been seeking for the past few years. A part of you dares to feel hopeful, too. Hopeful for a future with him. You’re not sure where it will lead, but you promise yourself to cherish every moment you have. You won’t make the mistake of taking him for granted again. 

“Oh, fuck!” You snap out of your daze and follow Taehyung’s eyes to see traffic moving again. The both of your cars sit still while everyone around you to begins blowing their horns in frustration. 

Before you have time to think, Taehyung is yanking you to your feet and tugging you towards your vehicles. 

You giggle, childishly delighting in the clumsy sprint the two of you are attempting on the slick pavement. With anyone else, you might have been embarrassed. But there’s nothing that could wipe the stupid grin off of your face. 

You throw yourself in your car, shoving your keys into the ignition. Luckily, you have just enough gas to make it home. You fumble to shift gears, when a knock on your window startles you. You whip your head to see Taehyung’s face staring at yours. 

“Hey, uh-” He begins as you roll down your window, suddenly flustered. You secretly relish in seeing him struggling for words. He’s always been endearing like that. “Your number is the same, right?” If at all possible, your smile stretches wider into your cheeks. 

“Yeah, it is.” 

“Oh, okay. Great. I’ll call you, then.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

The two of you are stuck grinning at each other like idiots before another angry car blares their horn and you’re snapped out of your daze. Taehyung tears his eyes from yours and gives the other drivers an apologetic wave before dashing to his car and sliding inside. 

You find yourself glancing at him as your cars take off and gain speed. A significant part of you is sad as you watch him take the exit before yours and you cruise down the highway, finally heading home. 

You switch the radio to the holiday station and sink into your seat, letting yourself hum along to the cheesy tunes. Your fingers are tingling from your time enduring the outside weather, but you don’t mind. 

You feel much warmer than before.